Hey, sorry for the long break, but folks, give a war welcome to Sam Craven, monster hunter, sleazeball and horror film buff extraordinare!
Old college friends with Kitten, Sam became a Hunter after his family was attacked by Demons, leaving him the only survivor.
(Also i made this chart lol i just. Need to find the blank file.
As of HTP Canon, he works regularly with the Golden Goose Gang to improve his own skills, and to impress D, who he has a crush on. Despite his lack of experience, and tendency to mistake Real Supernatural Facts with horror trivia.
for almost a year now i've been trying to send a copy of the literary magazine i edit to an inmate who requested one. his prison prohibits any written materials that so much as mention drugs, weapons, criminal activity, or malicious violence of any sort. i've been poring over what's available of the 95 volumes my magazine has printed over the years, and of those found 3 that might pass inspection. the first two were sent back undelivered two months after i sent them because one had a short story that alluded to a playground fight, and the other a poem that used the word "fist" in a nonviolent context. The third was returned for the stated reason that its contents depicted the use of firearms. i reread the entire issue, there's not a single gun mentioned in all its 120 pages.
while going back and forth with this guy trying to figure out how to get a copy of the magazine in his hands, two of my letters bounced back for unspecified reasons. i learned that inmates are not given their correspondents' original letters, but scanned copies, often poorly reproduced and sometimes illegible. these people aren't even granted the ink their loved ones used to pen their messages, or to hold in their hands the paper their loved ones held, if they're able to receive their words at all.
Something that bothered me a lot during visitation with my dad was it wasn't even in person?? They basically made us drive all the way out there to do a video call. Like in shows you see the bulletproof glass between ppl who have to talk thru a phone, it was kinda like that but we didn't even get to be in the same room it was a line of screens set into the wall. Everything about prisons is made to be dehumanizing.
I know people have come up with other words for transandrophobia, but i’m digging in my heels on that term. Yall won’t ever be happy with whatever other word we try to use, because the point is you want us to shut up and not talk about our oppression. I’m not going to waste my time hopping from term to term in an attempt to please yall and get you to take me seriously.
Markus looked down at his own father, floating above him as if observing a fly on the windowsill.
"You have your sword in front of you. Why aren't you attacking?"
The question was made with genuine curiosity, his voice soft and monotone, a far cry from his loud and whiny former self.
D looked up at his son, with a sense of fear and paralysis that neither Markus, nor any hunter with him, had ever seen from him before.
He raised his head as he braced himself against the searing heat, tears in his eyes.
Normally, within this situation, he would be standing straight up, sword in hand, screaming against the monster that dared to hurt the unprotected.
"I... I cannot..."
Markus tilted his head, more confused. "Why not?"
D's breath was labored, sweat dripping from every orifice.
"Come on, Son. You know why."
The fire mage drew closer, growing impatient. "What? No. I do not know why." The formations on his face, most recognizable as eyebrows, furrowed with a familiar annoyance. "Aren't you supposed to be stronger than me? Smarter than me? More experienced?"
D's eyes widened with regret, his tears now coming full force. "Markus, no. I lost my composure, I didn't mean it! Please, believe me!"
Markus seemed almost disappointed at this answer.
"So, you lied to me. Again."
D's eyes narrowed as he shook his head. "Only to protect you! I can't have you gallivanting around with the paranormal, you don't know what it's li-"
...
D recoiled as he realized what he just said.
And who he just said it to.
"Oh. Oh no, father. I think I know fully well."
He moved directly towards D's face, the heat emanating off him like a furnace.
"So that's why you can't attack me. You pity me, as per usual."
D looked at Markus as much as he could, his hand shielding as much heat as he could, and held his head down low in regret.
He took a look behind him, where his clan should be.
"Well, why don't you kill me then?" He took a deep breath in, hoping to Gaia that this worked. "I'm the one you're angry with, right? Leave the rest." Tears rolled down his cheeks, then evaporated into the air. "Wouldn't that show me up? Killing your own superior?" He laughed, finding a strange bit of black humor in the situation. "I won't deny it, I've been cheating death for a very long time now."
His smile waned and receded. "What good is a hunter if he makes his sons into monsters, anyway?"
Markus stared at him for a second, in disbelief. The mere idea of his father joking about his death would be complete bullshit to him only a few days ago.
And yet...
"A tempting offer, but I refuse."
Now it was D's turn to be surprised, as a large, flame-like hand had picked him up by the scruff of his neck. He stared at Markus in disbelief, as he muttered one singular word.
"...Why?"
"You said it yourself, Father." Markus smiled. "A dead hunter is useful only as a warning, and there is so much more use I can get out of you." Markus floated up toward his dad one more time as the ground broke up and opened beneath him.
Markus looked down at his own father, floating above him as if observing a fly on the windowsill.
"You have your sword in front of you. Why aren't you attacking?"
The question was made with genuine curiosity, his voice soft and monotone, a far cry from his loud and whiny former self.
D looked up at his son, with a sense of fear and paralysis that neither Markus, nor any hunter with him, had ever seen from him before.
He raised his head as he braced himself against the searing heat, tears in his eyes.
Normally, within this situation, he would be standing straight up, sword in hand, screaming against the monster that dared to hurt the unprotected.
"I... I cannot..."
Markus tilted his head, more confused. "Why not?"
D's breath was labored, sweat dripping from every orifice.
"Come on, Son. You know why."
The fire mage drew closer, growing impatient. "What? No. I do not know why." The formations on his face, most recognizable as eyebrows, furrowed with a familiar annoyance. "Aren't you supposed to be stronger than me? Smarter than me? More experienced?"
D's eyes widened with regret, his tears now coming full force. "Markus, no. I lost my composure, I didn't mean it! Please, believe me!"
Markus seemed almost disappointed at this answer.
"So, you lied to me. Again."
D's eyes narrowed as he shook his head. "Only to protect you! I can't have you gallivanting around with the paranormal, you don't know what it's li-"
...
D recoiled as he realized what he just said.
And who he just said it to.
"Oh. Oh no, father. I think I know fully well."
He moved directly towards D's face, the heat emanating off him like a furnace.
"So that's why you can't attack me. You pity me, as per usual."
D looked at Markus as much as he could, his hand shielding as much heat as he could, and held his head down low in regret.
He took a look behind him, where his clan should be.
"Well, why don't you kill me then?" He took a deep breath in, hoping to Gaia that this worked. "I'm the one you're angry with, right? Leave the rest." Tears rolled down his cheeks, then evaporated into the air. "Wouldn't that show me up? Killing your own superior?" He laughed, finding a strange bit of black humor in the situation. "I won't deny it, I've been cheating death for a very long time now."
His smile waned and receded. "What good is a hunter if he makes his sons into monsters, anyway?"
Markus stared at him for a second, in disbelief. The mere idea of his father joking about his death would be complete bullshit to him only a few days ago.
And yet...
"A tempting offer, but I refuse."
Now it was D's turn to be surprised, as a large, flame-like hand had picked him up by the scruff of his neck. He stared at Markus in disbelief, as he muttered one singular word.
"...Why?"
"You said it yourself, Father." Markus smiled. "A dead hunter is useful only as a warning, and there is so much more use I can get out of you." Markus floated up toward his dad one more time as the ground broke up and opened beneath him.
Tumblr will look at a cast with ten different amazing roles for people of color & Joe, a sad white guy with three lines, and then make the entire tag Sad White Guy Joe gifsets, and x Reader fics, and meta about how tragic it is that he's sad and also canonically Sad White Guy Joe, like, murders several people
"autistic people need instructions for every simple task" okay how about we talk about the neurotypicals not following clear instructions. what do you mean it didn't work the way you wanted, i gave you the instructions. oh you didn't follow them? you didn't see where i clearly indicated the directions you were supposed to follow for this task? and you're shocked it didn't turn out right? you decided to pull a Jared I'm 19 and go rogue? you're surprised the road less travelled isn't fucking paved because no one travels it? do you get off on this
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