treathergood5

[bradshawssugarbaby]

High On Lovin' You - Bob Floyd x Reader

a/n: this is an entirely self-indulgent fic inspired by a dream I had the other day, not beta read and may have some errors? I tried y'all. also inspired by h.o.l.y. by florida georgia line

pairing: bob floyd x wife! reader

warnings/content: bob as a dad, mentions of pregnancy, breeding kink, p in v, creampie, smut, fingering.

word count: 2.1k

The Californian breeze was warm and refreshing as it blew in off the coast of Coronado, brushing against your skin. You followed Bob up the brick-laden steps of Rooster’s seaside home, your daughter, Sunday, balancing on Bob’s hip as he jogged up the steps. You couldn’t help but admire the way he managed to make something as mundane as running up a couple of steps holding a baby effortlessly attractive.

His sandy coloured hair had been brushed back slightly, a change from his normal, military-approved style, and his wire framed glasses had been replaced with a pair of prescription aviator sunglasses. His baby blue polo shirt hugged his figure, accentuating his toned chest, his biceps flexing against the sleeve of the shirt as he held Sunday. He’d dressed her this morning, in a baby blue gingham dress that matched the hue of his shirt perfectly, with her curly blonde hair pulled back off her forehead with a coordinating headband, adorned with a bow.

“You ready to go see Uncle Roo, Sunny?” Bob cooed at your daughter, stroking her cheek gently with his index finger as he spoke to her.

Sunday giggled and cooed at her father as the three of you walked around to the side gate of the house. Bob reached around over the gate door to unlatch it, and as you watched him, you couldn’t help but notice that his normally slender build was appearing more and more muscular and toned. You knew that Bob had been spending a lot more time with Rooster lately, and by extension, Hangman, who’d convinced all the guys to start hitting the gym with him before trainings under the guise of “team-building” but you were convinced it was because he didn’t want to work out alone anymore. The gym sessions combined with carrying an almost toddler around were enough to have an impact on Bob’s upper body strength.

Bob looked over to you for a moment, flashing you a smile before walking up to Rooster with a firm handshake and a hug. Bob set Sunday down on the grass to play, watching as she started playing. He’d insisted on giving you a break for the day, feeling guilty for spending the last week and a half working overtime and putting in longer hours as they trained for an upcoming mission. You knew there was no use in arguing with him about it, and the extra time spent with Sunday meant the world to him. Besides that, something about seeing Bob take on the role of doting dad was driving you crazy with arousal, and you were going to make sure you did something about it later tonight.

“Sunday, come here, honey!” Bob called as he chased after your now very active and mobile 11 month old daughter. 

Later that night, you watched as your husband whispered goodnight to your baby daughter over the monitor on your phone, your heart fluttering at the sight of him leaning his tall, slender frame down to kiss his little girl on the forehead, murmuring sweet sayings to her that were barely audible over the noise of the sound machine that was playing.

 “Ok, I think Sunday’s finally gone down for the night. They aren’t kidding when they say that sleep regressions are the worst, are they?” Bob chuckled as he bounded down the stairs, shaking his head as he gently wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you in tightly towards his body. 

“Have I told you yet that you’re the best husband in the world?” 

“You might have mentioned it earlier when she spat up on my shirt right before Rooster’s party for his promotion, but I’d be ok with hearing it again.” 

A cocksure grin appeared on Bob’s face as he nuzzled into your neck, placing soft, gentle kisses against the curvature of your body. A soft, surprised moan fell from your lips as his mouth made contact with your skin, but that was all the encouragement Bob needed to start kissing a trail from the top of your shoulder up to your ear. His movements were playful and light-hearted, but he knew that was what drove you wild. His hands caressed at your waist, sliding down to your hips as he pulled you in closer to him with a gentle yank, the curves of your ass now pressed firmly against his body. You could feel the fabric of his dress pants beginning to tighten against you as he began hiking up the skirt of your dress, giving your ass a firm squeeze.

“Bobby!” You giggled, shaking your head as you felt your heart race as if this was your first time being intimate with him. 

That was the thing you loved about Bob, he made every time feel as great as the first - the passion, love and excitement of when you’d spent your first night together, recaptured as if it was happening all over again. Bob had always been a passionate lover - your first night together he’d sheepishly confessed to you that he’d only ever had one girlfriend before, and he dated her throughout his high school years until he graduated and left for the Naval academy at 18. He’d been worried that his lack of variety in the field had made him inadequate, and he assured you that, if there was anything he was doing that you wanted him to do differently, he’d learn it for you. It’d been nothing short of perfect - you teased him that he must have been reading Cosmopolitan or something to know all the right places to touch you and kiss you, to which he just shrugged, pushing his glasses up on his nose with a grin.

Since that day, it was clear to you that Bob was a people pleaser, and there was no one on earth who he wanted to please more than you.

“You looked so hot in that dress today, babe. You’re stunning, you know that?” He purred into your ear as he continued to run his hands along your body, his breath hot on your neck as he spoke in that low, seductive tone he knew drove you crazy.

“Robert Floyd, you’re pushing it,” you teased, shaking your head.

“Now, now, darlin’, that’s Lieutenant Commander Robert Floyd. If you’re gonna use my full name, better be using that rank too, got it, pretty girl?”

You gave Bob a mock salute, a shit-eating grin on your face as you looked at him. Bob pulled you in closer, holding your hips firmly against him, your dress hiked up to your midsection as he gave your sides a gentle squeeze, his fingers digging into your flesh ever-so-slightly as he held you. Grinding your hips against his, you grinned wickedly as Bob let out a groan. He spun you around quickly to face him, his blonde eyebrows raised quizzically at you. His bright, deep blue eyes were locked on yours and you felt like you might melt right there on the spot.

“Now, a pretty girl like you, she deserves to be treated right by her husband, doesn’t she?” Bob hummed, his fingers toying with your inner thigh. 

“Mhmm, is that so?”

“That’s what I reckon,” Bob smirked, his accent shifting, becoming thicker as he slipped into his natural Kentucky drawl, his fingers brushing against your wet slit.

“Bobby!” You hissed, unable to stop the soft gasp that came out of your mouth with it. 

“I think, since you do such a good job taking care of Sunday and I, I should return the favor, don’t you?” 

Before you could open your mouth to speak, Bob pushed two of his long fingers past your folds, pumping them into your core at a tantalizing slow pace that left you practically aching for more. He smirked as his fingers worked at your core, feeling your body clench at the movement of his hand. 

“Fuck, Bobby,” you mewled, feeling yourself tensing up at his touch, “Feels s’good.”

Bob pulled his fingers out of you, your body aching at the loss of contact. He stood upright, quickly undoing his belt at a break-neck pace. He smirked as he noticed you biting your bottom lip, watching him as he shimmied quickly out of his khaki coloured dress pants and boxer shorts. Reaching into the pocket of the now discarded pants on the floor, he pulled out a shiny foil square of packaging. As he started to open it, you shook your head, whispering in his ear, your voice in a breathy whine as you spoke.

“We don’t need to use that if you don’t want to, baby. I wanna feel you.”

“That so, baby? Thought you wanted at least two years between kids?” He laughed softly, raising an eyebrow quizzically at you.

“I know what I said. That was before I saw you handling Sunday so well at Rooster’s this afternoon. Now I’m thinking 20 months is good enough,” you replied with a shrug, your lips curling into a smirk as you tried to convince your normally level-headed and rational thinking husband to forgo any form of contraception. 

Bob furrowed his brow in thought for a moment before tossing the condom wrapper behind him with a grin.

“What the hell, I’m on board,” He shrugged as he lifted you up, causing you to squeal in surprise as you wrapped your legs around his waist.

Bob carried you effortlessly over to the couch before dropping you gently down on to the leather sectional. He grinned as he hovered down over you, lining himself up with your entrance. He dragged the tip of his cock against you in a teasing manner, causing you to shudder and whine as you felt him make contact with your clit. He gave you a wicked grin as he watched you squirm before gently pushing himself forward. He paused for a moment for you to adjust to his size - something you should be used to by now, but yet, each time your body needed that extra moment or two to stretch around him. 

“That’s it, pretty girl, taking my cock so well,” Bob cooed as he pushed himself further into you, maintaining the slow pace he’d begun with. 

“Bobby,” you whined as he filled you, your fingers gripping his shoulders tightly.

Bob began thrusting into you at a leisurely, slow pace, his voice low and husky as he grunted in your ear, reminding you of how good you feel, how you were all his, and how your body felt like it was practically made for him. You squirmed and shuddered with each thrust becoming harder and sharper, perfectly calculated to hit exactly where you wanted each time, something that was to be expected of a man who’s job entailed precision and skill when it comes to angles. 

“You feel so fucking fantastic, honey. Can’t wait to put another baby in ya. That’s what you want, isn’t it baby? Want me to give you another baby?”

Bob’s hips crashed into yours repeatedly as he thrusted, his sharp, quick movements beginning to grow sloppier as he edged closer to his orgasm. You tossed your head back in ecstasy as he bucked his hips into you, the combination of his words and his movements just about pushing you to your orgasm. 

“C’mon honey, tell me what you want from me,” Bob husked.

“Need you to put a baby in me, please, Bobby,” you cried out, unable to hold back any longer as his latest thrust pushed you to your boiling point.

As if your words flipped a switch inside of him, Bob’s hips bucked forward once more as he grunted, spilling out inside of you as your body clenched around him tightly.

Breathless and panting as you both rode out your orgasms, Bob couldn’t help but laugh as he looked at you, shaking his head.

“So what was it about my parenting that got you worked up?” He smirked, unable to shake the grin off his face as he leaned down to kiss your collarbone.

“Honestly?”

“Honestly, I know something got you worked up today, and I doubt it was the backyard barbecue at Rooster’s.”

“Your biceps have gotten huge from carrying Sunday around everywhere, and with the polo shirt and the aviators today, and you were all proud of yourself for coordinating your outfit with Sunday’s, it was a combination of things, but,” you breathed, shaking your head as you grinned, “imagine how you’ll look balancing two toddlers on your hip.”

[alienpossession]

Mode of Infiltration: Consumables

Eating and drinking are part of daily human activities. You cannot just suddenly decided to not eat. Well....you can, but you cannot do that forever. You have to eat and drink, whether it's home-made, to-go from a quick fast-food chain or some local diner and even fancy restaurant. That's just the reality

So, it is very convenient for these extraterrestrial being to slip itself in between human daily intake.

They simply played the long game, waiting for the unaware human to consume them instead without knowing that something sinister is already hiding inside their carton of milk, crawling inside their salad bowl, mixed in with the pancake batter previously made by infected individuals or tub of protein powder already tainted with extraterrestrial being that can break themselves down into tiny particles that finely integrated itself with the powder.

The possibilities are endless, which means human are very vulnerable from all angles when it comes to this mode of infiltration and the alien tend to be very swift at adapting to their human vessels, even smoothly stepping up to the role the real one left behind

And with these kinds of infiltration, it usually leads to a domino effect of widespread infiltration as the alien merged themselves into a whole batch of cooking or worse, an entire diner, and even worse than that, a whole production line.

For a simple case, Rodney here just prepared himself for a packed day filled with gym sesh and his overtime work session in the office. Clearly he needs breakfast, so his girlfriend for 3 years, Nikki, stepped into the kitchen and prepared something simple.

Several spoonful of omelette with a rather weird taste made by Rodney's lovely girlfriend to fuel his day suddenly choked him to the point of asphyxiation. Turns out, she didn't just made it with love, but also with fine dusting of black speck which already infected her brain when she went out with her girls for some brunch in the up-and-coming yet-infected local joint.

Rodney would be gasping for breath, fighting for his life, but his partner just smiled eerily at him instead of calling 9-1-1, waiting for "her" friend to take control of his body

In other cases, Cal might noticed that something is wrong with his protein powder once he tasted it. But, it's a little too late to reverse anything as instead of opening his mouth to spit out the shake, the alien that blended into the protein powder froze his lips and forced its way into his throat and nose.

Unable to scream for help, he can only endure his fate as he can sense the invading presence crawling to his brain. Mere minutes later, he's excitedly make another batch of protein shakes that he will give to his fellow gym-mate.

The closest mate, Jack, literally waited for Cal in the backyard and supposedly witnessed the whole ordeal. Yet Jack is a little bit distracted with the sultry chat from his girlfriend, his eyes focused to his phone instead to his flailing friend. Needless to say, when Cal offered his shake to Jack while trying to hide his mischievous smirk, the thirsty Jack eagerly accepted the offer and chugged the whole drink, his body instantly convulsed in the process as he managed to slightly opened his mouth to scream for help only for his hand already taken over by the alien to betray him as it dunked out more liquid as more of the infiltrator literally filled his mouth and throat to the brim. When the alien seized full bodily control, Jack smirked back at Cal as both of them eyed to go back to the gym and infect any unlucky attendant that they can take control

As it turns out, the whole batch of the powder is infected because one of the product mixer, a chemist, created the formulation with a whole colony of slimy alien from outer space mixed in to the other ingredients as part of the base formula of the eventual powder. He was taken over during his hiking trip and from then on, his goal is to just simply ensured the readiness of the new settlement for his species. And lucky for it, the young hunk worked for a company that certainly can help his new extraterrestrial friends to blend into human society. After all, not like anyone would expect a surprise from inside their sealed protein powder......

[itsabouttimex2]

not sure if anyone asked about the Monkie Glaive AU yet, but how does it work, exactly? I'm really curious to know about the group and character dynamics considering it's a Monster Hunter crossover! (I was listening to some MH + MHS themes today and it reminded me of this au ! :D)

Monkie Glaive

(I’m really glad you asked this! I was hoping to expand on this AU!)

So, to start- it basically transports the beasts and ecosystem of Monster Hunter into the world of Monkie Kid, which maintains a very high-tech and futuristic world.

It also turns demons and Celestials into monster-hybrids! Here’s five of the characters who are monsters in the AU:

For example, Sun Wukong is a Rajang, which means he can potentially tap into lightning abilities- after consuming a Kirin horn. He can also transform into a full-sized form, and is capable of entering a “Furious” state.

Also, instead of beetles or moths- glaive wielders partner with little FFM monkeys! These monkeys also take the place of Palicos! So, Wukong’s legacy spreads beyond his defeat of the Black Dragon- people to this day emulate his fighting style and actively live with his subjects in day to day life.

No single weapon- he cycles through old glaives and hunting horns as he pleases- after all, he gave the Ruyi Jingu Bang to MK!

Macaque is actually a Nargacuga! Instead of commanding shadows, he can turn invisible and fling spikes from his tail. And, like any Nargacuga, he’s sensitive to sound- especially to Sonic Bombs, and he’ll immediately enter a rage state once he recovers. Macaque wields Leumundslist, and has his own little melanistic monkey partner- she’s the only thing he really cares about. Although, meeting Y/N might just change that…

The Brotherhood is active even to the present day, having never been sealed in the Ink Scroll. They still command Camel Ridge and keep their “subjects” locked up nice and tight, refusing to allow any mortals amongst them to become Hunters or Riders. Instead, they themselves do the defending and fighting, and all their cherished mortals stay perfectly safe inside their walled kingdom- no one leaves.

But, with a little convincing and begging, a stranger may be allowed to come inside for safety and supplies- but only if they’re willing to stay. Expect to sign lots of contracts and papers written by Yellowtusk (who is a Gammoth, giving him the ability to create snow and ice. He wields the Iceshaker.) that were created for the sole purpose of keeping innocent and kind souls trapped inside their smothering protective city. These papers will be cited and show any time you try to leave.

Peng is a Gold Rathian, giving them the ability to both spit fireballs and secrete poison- instead of a tail, though, Peng’s poison is spread by their quills. Those quills also contains a mild paralytic, useful for quieting dissenters or subduing runaways to ferry back “home”. They wield the Gold Chordmaker and maintain a more supportive combat role than their Sworn Brothers. They’re usually first in line to track down any “wayward souls” that leave the loving protection of Camel Ridge.

Azure Lion is obviously a Lunastra, which gives him both a big pair of wings and ability to breath fire- as well as spread flammable dust to ignite later. With the Roilcloud Sword in hand, Azure has sworn to protect all his cherished prisoners subjects from the violent woes of a monster-ridden world- whether they like it or not. There’s not a single resident of Camel Ridge that he doesn’t adore with all his heart, nor even one that he’s forgotten the name of.

And not one is allowed to leave his care.

[actual-changeling]

We need to talk about the Archangel Michael.

No, seriously we NEED to talk about Michael because I think she's going to be way more important than we currently think.

(quick side note: I will be jumping between pronouns for everyone involved because I go by vibes and also bc I'm trans and I like doing it. Hopefully it won't be too confusing, but I'll try to make it clear who I am talking about.)

So! Welcome back to Alex's unhinged meta corner. In accordance with the usual essay rules, let's begin with my hypothesis before we go down a long, probably very unhinged spiral.

I completely underestimated how thorough I was going to be, so to not overwhelm everyone with a miles long post, I will be dividing this meta into parts and will post them as I finish them.

A lot of small details have been fluttering around my mind over the last few weeks, and I think I am finally starting to put all the pieces together—and there are a LOT.

Part 1: Season One and Michael's Rank

We know them as one of the three (four—but that's another post) Archangels next to Gabriel and Uriel. While Gabriel's title was that of the Supreme Archangel, Michael's is explicitly stated in episode one of season two as 'duty officer', which, broadly speaking, makes them the Watcher, the one in charge in the case of Gabriel's absence for whatever reason, taking command where he can't; usually that probably meant him simply being busy and not him being unemployed and naked.

Their position is further signified by their ring, which resembles the Ophanim, the many-eyed angel wheels.

They are the one to keep a literal eye on things—they find pictures of Aziraphale and Crowley in S1 in the Observation Files, they watch over the heavenly hosts, they oversee plans, everything.

Michael even takes it a step further and (presumably created) the grapevine with hell, having direct contact to higher ranking demons such as Ligur, most likely also Dagon, and Beelzebub.

This is where we get to my theory: Michael is actively working with demons against both heaven and hell. It doesn't mean that they care about preserving earth, though they might later on, but that whatever plans heaven currently has are to be stopped.

I'm going to take this one step further and say that Michael also knew about Gabriel and Beelzebub, and helped him escape.

Now to the fun part: the evidence!

In season one, they are interested in stopping Crowley and Aziraphale from preventing the apocalypse, but that does not mean that they agree with the plans heaven has for said event—only that they need it to happen so their own agenda can stay on track. She has information she technically shouldn't, like, well, literally all the details about how, when, and what is going to go down

This is due to heaven and hell's general cooperation, which is its own post, but all of that runs through them.

That 'apparently' is doing a lot of heavy lifting here, it's the basic and plausible deniability that's required for them to not be in trouble. She is also in charge of ORGANIZING the troops, fulfilling her role as a navigator.

On top of that, the way she talks to Ligur highly mirrors the way two covert operatives might talk to one another, using phrases like 'our man' and 'working for you'. The mere assumption Michael makes here, that Aziraphale could be a spy, implies that there ARE already spies and angels working for hell.

Consorting with the enemy is allowed as long as it is done within a very specific framework, so Michael and Ligur are free to do so, while Aziraphale and Crowley are working outside of it, which gives heaven & hell the basis to punish them for it.

I think the phrasing of this sentence is also quite interesting.

Not "time to come back to heaven" or anything along the lines that takes Aziraphale's ethereal status into account, no, she simply says he needs to 'choose sides'—and who is to say that he needs to choose heaven or that heaven and hell are the only sides one can choose? Additionally, Michael is the one to bring the holy water to hell while they send one of the Erics, and while the trial as a whole holds a certain tension, there does not seem to be any open animosity between him and the dukes of hell.

In short, Michael is working with hell behind the scenes, likely pursuing their own goals, and standing in opposition to heaven.

Moving on to season two, and here it gets REALLY fun.

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5

(hopefully it will just be five. it was supposed to be two. then three. but here we are)

[ninadove]

As a (very niche portion of the) fandom, our collective attention has been captured by how much Felix adores Kagami — which is true and good and beautiful and pure. But we’ve been sleeping on how much she loves him, and today, I want to shine a spotlight on her side of the most beautiful love story ever written.

Before we begin, let me get the obvious out of the way: yes, she did try to crush his skull with a chair in Pretension, and she was iconic for that.

HOWEVER.

This is only how their relationship started. What truly matters is how the story unfolds from then on.

And boy does it unfold fast. By the end of the episode, Felix has shaken Kagami’s worldview so much that she:

Stands up to her own friends and fellow heroes in an effort to not only protect him, but also ensure that he can keep the Peacock Miraculous;

Actively challenges her mother’s teaching that emotions (in this context, romantic love) are a weakness that should be eradicated from the face of the Earth;

Is planning secret dates with Felix, even though as far as she knows Tomoe has her amok (because you can’t tell me this little genius didn’t figure out the entire Sentilore in the sewers);

Trusts Felix with said amok despite his extensive criminal record, as illustrated by how quickly and firmly she takes his hand — with a little sigh if happiness, might I add. This is especially significant compared to previous instances of hand holding between the two, when he had to make all the effort while she remained completely limp.

And then Representation rolls around. And oh, boy.

Kagami instantly calms down from her TV-induced rage upon seeing her boyfriend on her balcony — a major improvement when you consider how big of a role anger and frustration play in her akumatisations.

Tangent 1:

Something similar happened in Ikari Gozen, when Mari protected Kagami from her mother, causing her to narrowly escape Hawkmoth’s influence. More on the Marigami-to-Feligami pipeline in another post, coming to your dash someday in the not-so-distant future.

Not only does Kagami instantly relax in Felix’s presence, but she laughs — something that previously only happened in the context of Adrigaminette, and we all know how that ended. Felix is the one to mend her heart and make her laugh again, for the second time since the dance.

Our two lovebirds proceed to straight up RUN AWAY INTO THE SUNSET. Kagami presumably spent the following 350 km (300 miles) cuddled up in Argos’ arms, admiring how handsome he looks in his glittery cosmic suit which we don’t get to see because budget.

Later on, they casually discuss Ladybug’s identity, while fireworks go off in the background. Let me rephrase this: Kagami trusted the person who stole the Miraculous with her best friend’s most burning secret, not because she wants to defeat Hawkmoth per say, but because Gabriel has been getting in the way of their make out sessions and she can’t have that.

Tangent 2:

Also coming to your dash in the not-so-distant future: an analysis of Kagami’s relationship to the concepts of truth and lies, and how dependent it is on what serves her and her loved ones in the moment.

Then, of course, the core of the episode: Kagami actively participates in the play, helping Felix tell his story in a way he feels comfortable with.

Tangent 3 (lots of ‘em today):

This part is extremely important to me, because I’ve seen So. Many. People. complain that the play could have been boiled down to two lines of conversation.

And like.

No???

Firstly, this is a show, not real life: we as an audience needed the confirmation to be as climactic as possible. If it hadn’t been, I can guarantee the exact same salters would be crying about the story’s “WaStEd PoTeNtIaL”.

But let’s delve into the real life implications of the Sentiplot for a second.

Abuse survivors do not owe you a brief, comfortable explanation of what they went through, neatly wrapped up with a pretty little bow.

The play is a beautiful illustration of how art can be cathartic and therapeutic, and I need you guys to understand that this sequence means something to many, many viewers — most of them children in similarly terrible situations. If I were to bet, I would say it very likely speaks to one or more members of the writing team on a personal level as well.

So you can pry these scenes from my cold, dead hands.

The kisses… All of them… During the firework show. As the sun rises to signify a new beginning. Disguised as Adrien’s parents. For context, this is the same girl who previously found a hand kiss to be too much for her broken heart to bear.

And of course, there’s the way she looks at him like he is her entire world, like she cannot understand how anyone could ever call him monstruous. Because Felix doesn’t get the monopoly of heart eyes.

Finally, in Recreation:

THE LIES CALLBACK. THE MIRACULOUS TEAM TOOK THE TIME AND MADE THE EFFORT TO PUT A LIES CALLBACK IN THE FREAKING FINALE. You guys know I’m insane about this scene already.

So what’s my point.

Because yes, I do have a point, apart from “KSSGDJDKSS Feligami SGDHDKLS 🥰🥰🥰🥰” (which, by the way, is a completely valid meta post in itself).

While we joke that Kagami is so far out of Felix’s league in every aspect — she doesn’t perceive him that way in the slightest. As far as she’s concerned, she has achieved every fourteen year old’s dream: dating the perfect cursed prince, tortured artist, evil-genius-on-a-redemption-arc combo.

She is just as enamoured with him as he is with her, and I think it’s beautiful. 🦚🐉

[whitegownsandflowercrowns]

Do you have any thoughts about Aemond calling Alicent by her name and the way the Green Siblings kind of think of her as an older sister 😭

Many many thoughts. (Below the cut because this turned out longer than I was expecting).

First off I think the age differences between Alicent and her children play a large role in this. These age differences range from 16-20 years, with Daeron being the only child she didn’t have as a teenager (and of course he’s the only one we haven’t seen so far). And then you take that small age gap and add on the fact that whatever age gap each green sibling has with their mom, that’s the exact same age gap they have with their actual older sister Rhaenyra, so it’s no wonder that they might see Alicent as more of an older sister. Putting aside ages, though, I think the way that Alicent has raised her kids and the way that she behaves definitely contribute to this perception.

First you have Aegon, who she treats like a younger brother from pretty much his first non-toddler appearance on screen. He’s the only child she’s (almost) never attempted to comfort, and (almost) every time he could need it, he either gets shot down (“you imbecile”) or she turns away (post Blood & Cheese). In fact, the only time she does actively comfort him is after he gets burned, when he can't respond to her and is probably barely conscious of what's happening. I don’t think it’s much of a stretch to say that he’s the child she has the most complicated relationship with: she was the youngest when she had him, he was her firstborn, he’s the physical representation of everything she’s sacrificed over the past twenty years (I do wonder how her relationship with Helaena would change if she had been born first) he’s a (likely serial) rapist, he’s the reason that there’s a succession conflict. I do think she loves him - I mean, she wasn’t exactly jumping for joy at the thought of giving him up - but I get the sense that she feels like she should love him a lot more than she does. And I don’t think she likes him all that much.

I think one of the first ways in which we can see this sort of older/younger sibling perception is in the fact that she is physically abusive towards him. I can’t imagine her dreaming of laying a hand on Helaena, and the only time she’s remotely rough with Aemond is to get his hands off Helaena. But she is violent towards Aegon in Season 1, slapping him twice and grabbing his face very aggressively in 1x06. If I had to guess, I’d guess those aren’t the only times in his life that she’s hit him (though I don’t think it was especially regular either). I think one of the main reasons behind this separation between “acceptable child to hit” and “unacceptable children to hit” is because Aegon is the child that she mostly sees as not her child, the one she most sees as a younger sibling, for all the reasons I listed above. And anyone who has siblings knows that you can get pretty physically rough with them, but if a parent hits their child, that’s abuse. So, not an excuse, but because I think she has this sort of subconscious mental block of “that’s my brother, not my son,” hitting Aegon isn’t hitting a child to her. Or, at least, it’s not on the same tier of badness as hitting Helaena or Aemond.

And then another part of that I think is the way she speaks to Aegon most of the time. It’s pretty demeaning. The one that stands out the most to me is in 2x04, when she says “What thoughts would you have?” It’s not the words themselves that stand out so much as the fact that Alicent is visibly repressing a giggle as she says it (and she does actually chuckle later in the scene). It’s not just that she’s calling him an idiot ten different ways in that scene, it’s the fact that she seems to be actively mocking him for being an idiot, in a way that seems less like a mother and more like an older sister picking on her younger brother. If the Green/Targaryen as a whole family dynamics weren’t what they are, those lines would feel more at home from Rhaenyra. I know that parents can be bullies, but there's something so juvenile about the way that she does it, as if she's not really aware that what she's saying could actually impact Aegon.

I definitely think Aegon has internalized this attitude of "that's not my mom, that's my older sister," and I feel like both he and Alicent are waiting for his "actual" mom to show up. As if she's a teenage babysitter, but a babysitter who's had to step in for his entire life and was nowhere near prepared. And yet, Aegon still desperately wants her approval, because he wants the approval of every adult in his life, and he can't get any of it. That would also explain what we saw of his approach to raising Jaehaerys: you don't really do the raising yourself, you're not the actual parent, you (the child) and the maids figure it out. This is pure subjective opinion on my part, but I think if the children had lived to adulthood, he would have 100% been a "Disneyland Dad": super fun, nice to them, but does absolutely 0% of the actual child raising and is more of an uncle than anything. I also think it's interesting that when the twins were born, he was the same age that Alicent was when she had him - I can't say "we don't talk about that enough" because I haven't talked about it, but I think it warrants further exploration.

Now on to Helaena. Out of all of the siblings, she's probably the one that has this attitude the least, and I do think her own motherhood informs this. I just mentioned Aegon's age when the twins were born: she was fourteen when she had them, thirteen when she married Aegon. Alicent was fifteen getting married and sixteen having her first child. Both ages are ridiculously young, but fourteen is especially egregious, considering that she wasn't even an adult by Westerosi standards, let alone 2024 standards. I understand that Viserys was decaying and all, but I would really like to know, in both book and show canons, why it was considered so essential by the Greens that this marriage happen so early, and why there were absolutely no protections in place to guarantee that Helaena wouldn't be having kids at fourteen years old.

For obvious reasons, we don't see a whole lot of Helaena's motherhood, so we do have to infer a lot about how she feels about having kids so young. Going purely off of show canon here, it would seem that her feelings are loving but complex - like Alicent, but also complex in a different way. Helaena has known for probably years that Jaehaerys was essentially born to die, and she probably also knows that Jaehaera's life will be short and tragic. I can imagine that that would mess your relationships with your children up at least a little (I mentioned in this post that her words about trying not to be sad about Jaehaerys are almost certainly inspired by her visions). But I can guess that having been so young when she had these children, possibly seeing them more like siblings or a niece and a nephew, would also complicate this relationship.

Ultimately, I think that's why she has this relationship the least with Alicent: because she understands that motherhood is complicated, and that these dynamics can be weird when the gap between you and your children is so small. Overall, their dynamic seems to be the most typical parent/child dynamic of the three: Alicent is concerned for her above all else (reaction to B&C, immediately going to see if she's alright when Vaemond is beheaded, the entire Season 2 finale), and Helaena seems to think of her as a mom. I also suspect that being the only daughter plays into this dynamic, since she doesn't pose any inherent threat to Rhaenyra and therefore Alicent doesn't have to worry about what Rhaenyra might do to her to secure her claim. Basically, she didn't have to grow up as fast (in that sense, she definitely did in other ways).

Finally, Aemond. The one you asked about, who just straight up called her Alicent and spends a lot of Season 2 treating her like his subordinate (every time I remember "domestic pursuits" I feel violent). This one's interesting because, unlike Aegon, I don't think this one is on Alicent as much. That's not to say none of it is on her, I do think the general emotional unavailability contributed to his issues (Exhibit A: everything with Sylvi). But there are other sources, the most obvious of which I think is Driftmark.

Losing his eye was unpleasant, no doubt, but I think the truly scarring part of that night for him was Viserys' reaction. Because, in that moment, he learns that it doesn't matter if he's nine years old with a giant scar where his left eye used to be, not even two hours after it was taken out: because he said the wrong thing, his father will choose Rhaenyra every single time. Since he's the one in the chair, I think this revelation hit him the hardest. Personally, I think this is the moment where the Dance and not just a succession conflict became completely inevitable, and I think the same is true of Aemond. Or, at least, he realized that if Rhaenyra decides that she needs to end all opposition to her throne he's done for. So I think that moment for him is a horrible sort of growing up moment, where he realizes the realities of the adult world around him and has to become an adult to survive it.

I think that's primarily where his "Alicent holds love for our enemy" attitude comes from. He's known since he was nine that when it comes to Rhaenyra it's kill or be killed, and his childhood has been destroyed as a result. So he sees Alicent pursuing peace even after he's killed Luke, and I think it frustrates him to no end because he's thinking I've known how this is going to end for years, why can't you accept that? I'd wager he probably sees himself as the adult in this situation, and Alicent as the idealistic teenager who refuses to accept that sometimes bad things have to happen. So if you take the general Hightower A+++ Parenting and combine it with everything I've just said, you'll get Aemond seeing her as an older sister (who would be a teenager/very young adult) and not his mother (full adult). There's also probably a bit of "I need to be the best and the smartest and the most mature" attitude on Aemond's part that could be delved into.

So those are my thoughts. In conclusion, the Targaryens and Hightowers are messed up, child marriage and neglectful parenting are responsible for pretty much everything wrong, and they would all heavily heavily benefit from getting far, far away from King's Landing and Westeros as a whole.

[apomaro-mellow]

Mafia AU 11

Part 10

“Ciao bella~”

A kiss of the hand and a giggle. That was how it started.

That and a little aside to her friend in Italian, poking fun at this man who had clearly used up all the Italian that he knew. Fortunately for him, he was handsome enough to take pity on and switch to English.

“What a gentleman. What family do you come from?”

“The Harringtons.”

“I’m afraid I’m not familiar with them.”

“You will be.”

At first, her father didn’t say anything outright about associating with him. He was working with the family after all. He only just warned her not to get too attached. But when he announced himself as an official suitor, her father put his foot down.

He wasn’t worthy of her, worthy enough to be the boss. That he, as her father, would find a more suitable match. But she had spoken in defense of her love. He might not be ready now, but he could learn. She could teach him everything he needed to know, make him the sort of boss the other men would respect. And like many fathers, his heart was soft under the intense gaze of his only daughter.

And so the courtship had continued.

To her delight and her father’s surprise, the outsider took to the job like a duck to water. He was ruthless and didn’t shy away from blood. He didn’t follow all of the traditions though, and didn’t hold respect for the old ways and the families that had paved the way as he should. But he got results. He had the approval of the boss and the love of the boss’ daughter. No one could touch him.

The bonding came as a surprise to no one, and the birth of their pup was met with elation. Her new bouncing baby boy was her greatest treasure. The father was happy for an heir, but didn’t appear to share the same wonder at their son. She had heard that it took fathers some time to truly bond with their children and brushed it off. As a wife and now a mother, her role in the family became less active, but no less busy. It was still her duty to support her husband after all.

It was her job to sit in with the other wives from their family and others. To hear what their husbands didn’t know about and to pass that information on to her own. It was what her own mother had done to assist her father. But while her alpha was good at most aspects of the business, he ignored the social part. Even when she came to him with something important, he ignored her.

When it became clear that he would hear nothing from her, she put her all into her son. In time she came to realize how others saw her husband and that she only needed to hold the line until her son could take his place. Just long enough that no one would oust them so that Stefano could do what he had been born for.

The first time she yelled at her husband had been when Stefano was five. The little pup had slipped away from his nanny and found his way to his father’s study in the middle of a meeting. She had been walking by when she heard him curse at their child so viciously he immediately started to cry. She felt a fire blaze inside of her, shouting at her husband and carrying their crying son away.

They fought later that evening, him angry at her for disrespecting him in front of others. 

“You will NOT speak to me that way in front of these people! Isn’t it all about honor?”

“You dishonor yourself! They look at you and think ‘what kind of a man curses at his baby like that’?!”

“He’s not a baby anymore!”

“He’s five years old! And if you keep treating him like that they will think you are afraid of your own child.”

He didn’t soften around Stefano, not the way she wanted him to as a father. But he never yelled at him around others anymore. He got used to expressing his disdain more privately. She realized by the time he was ten that his fatherly love would never come. And any love for her had been buried deep beneath his ambition. Her determination to protect her son and raise him to be a proper boss was strengthened as she saw him grow.

She made sure he knew the right people and how to treat them, brought him up in the right customs. Made sure he knew Italian just as well as he knew English. Her husband’s nose scrunched up whenever they spoke it in front of him, barring him from the conversation. She used to think that little quirk was cute. But nowadays it was a sign that not only did he not know, but that he had no intention of finding out.

Her son had a similar nose scrunch and it was the most adorable thing to her. It was amazing how the same thing could give such different feelings.

They didn’t have a major fight again until Stefano (sometimes called Steve) was twelve. She passed Tonio in the hall and he said she might want to pop in on the gymnasium. She did and found her husband treating their child’s face like a punching bag. There were a few other men who looked on with mixed expressions as Steve remained standing despite the blows to the face. They all parted to let her through and kept quiet as she laid into her husband. Her rage so blinding, that she was sure she was switching between languages but had no control over which one came out and when. But she made one thing very clear.

“If you ever put your hands on my son again, I will make you regret it.”

With that one incident, his reputation began to slip. The old boss made it clear he hadn’t been a hundred percent on giving the family to him. He had lost the love and respect of his wife. His son wasn’t looking too promising either and his only saving grace was that he seemed to take more after his mother.

“Are you trying to end this family?!”, her husband accused one night.

“I’m trying to save this family. I was wrong about you. How could I have been so stupid?”

“Haven’t I been good for you? Haven’t I given you everything we wanted?”

“You’ve only given me one good thing in this life. Everything I do, I do for Stefano.”

Her husband’s entire demeanor changed. Like he had closed himself off. “Well, until I have retired, I still run this family. And that includes the both of you. And my retirement will not be coming for a very long time.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure.”

“...What do you mean?”

She was going to answer when she noticed the crack in their door, the flash of an eye, and the whiff of a familiar scent. She let out a sigh and started towards the door.

“I am going to say goodnight to Steve. If I were you, I would take some time to think about what it means to be a part of this family.”

---------------------------

“They fought some more after that. And then, one day, my dad came to my room and told me she was dead”, Steve said. “She’d been out in the city and some random guy shot her while trying to hold up a jewelry store.”

Eddie swallowed. What felt like the first movement in hours but Steve’s story hadn’t been nearly that long. He wanted to reach out to him but the omega looked untouchable right now.

“How old were you?”

“I had just turned fourteen”, Steve answered. “It didn’t feel real. She was always there and she said she’d be back soon and then she just…wasn’t.”

“What was her name?”

Steve smiled. “Francesca Noemi Marini.”

Eddie ventured to reach out and put his hand on top of Steve’s. Steve turned his palm upward to hold his hand but didn’t say anything more for a while. And for once, Eddie was speechless.

“I don’t think it was random though”, Steve spoke up after composing himself. “I’ve had this gut feeling and something about it all seemed odd.”

“Well, targeting the boss’ wife would be a ballsy move”, Eddie said. “How did your dad take the news? Didn’t he ever punish the guy who did it?”

“He told me it had been handled. That he’d taken care of it. Back then, I just took him at his word. But I…”

“But you?”, Eddie urged.

“I just know that if someone killed the love of my life, I wouldn’t handle it quietly. I would make an example out of them. Make it so no one would ever fuck with my family again.”

He tightened his hold on Eddie’s hand and the alpha felt his heart skip a beat. Was he included in that? Was there ever a chance that Steve might rip the world apart if something happened to him? The thought of someone caring so furiously and having the power to back it up was a bit intoxicating.

“Any leads on who the culprit might be?”

Steve put his head on Eddie’s shoulder, shocking him to stiffness but he quickly realized it was just an excuse to whisper in his ear. Even deep in the maze, there could be eavesdroppers. And what Steve said next was completely traitorous.

“I believe my father had her killed.”

Part 12

[scentedstrangercreation]

An Indecent Proposal

Absolutely self-indulgent fluff. Fake proposal trope 🤡

---------------------------------

The wrench slipped from Garrus’ hand, bouncing off the thanix’s compressors and sliding beneath the cannon.

“Dammit.”

He crouched down and sprawled onto his back to slide under the battery. The opening was too narrow for his carapace, so he could only lean against it and stretch out his arm. His talons just barely grazed the tip of the wrench, spinning it hopelessly in place. Garrus sighed, tapping his head against the cannon’s base. His omnitool pinged on the opposite arm. He turned his head and watched the red light blink in its slow, deliberate rhythm. There was no point in checking who it was from. He’d only just spoken to his father yesterday, and the message had been clear: It’s time to stop playing mercenary and come home. There was a position ready for him on Palaven, a good service role. One that would make his family proud. The past few years would be forgotten—the Normandy, his time on Omega, Cerberus. Even the battle at the Citadel was becoming a distant memory everyone wanted buried. The bottom line was that the council wanted to move on—and Shepard was becoming a liability. The light pulsed again. He wasn’t sure why he bothered putting off his response. Turians didn’t make requests. Garrus was being given an order—an opportunity—and there was only one answer. Yes, sir. The door to the battery hissed open. “Garrus?” Shepard entered the room and the door shut behind her. He tried to sit up, forgetting his arm was still jammed beneath the Thanix, and slammed into the steaming pipes, “Spirits,” he grunted, extracting his arm. “Sleeping on the job?” Shepard crouched down beside him. “We didn’t all get a palatial suite.” He squinted up into the light as Shepard came into focus above him. “How’s the face holding up?” she gestured around her jaw. Garrus sat up, touching the bandages around his face. “Don’t worry. I’ll still be pretty.” “Thank god.” She offered her hand and he pulled himself up, “Wouldn't want you scaring the children.” He should have laughed, said something quippy back, but he was out of practice. Instead, he just stared at her for a minute in silence. He still wasn’t used to it—to her. Shepard was here. She was alive. He didn’t like thinking about it too much. Part of him was worried that if he wasn’t careful, he might wake up. Garrus shook the thought from his mind and cleared his throat, “What do you need?” Shepard held up a data pad, “Just wanted to go over—” Garrus’ omnitool pinged three times in quick succession. “You need to take that?” “At some point.” he dismissed the messages without looking. She looked at him curiously, but didn’t say anything. “It’s—nothing. Just…” he’d have to tell her eventually. He just wasn’t sure when…or how. She tapped the data pad against her leg and tilted her head slightly. He could tell she wanted to say more. But at Miranda's request, she had been practicing her…restraint. He smiled. It was like she had to physically restrain each word before they bullied their way out of her mouth. “Actually, we can do this later.” She gestured with the pad, “Want a drink?” He waved her off, “I should probably get back to—” “If you say calibrations, I’ll vent the battery.” “Well, I won’t say it then.” “Come on, don’t make me beg.” She turned around and started walking as if he’d already agreed, “have a drink with me.” “It’s actually been more threatening than begging.” “Oh, good. Then you’ll take it seriously.”

Shepard’s cabin was garishly large. He knew she agreed. The fish tank held nothing but water and the entire back half of the room was left untouched. He suspected she didn’t even use the bed, with its corners pulled taut and undisturbed. The contrast against the couch was almost cartoonish. It was clearly a hive of activity, dwarfed beneath a mountain of clutter. There were signs of small, abandoned projects strewn about: stacks of tablets, an omnitool’s motherboard exposed and connected to a desktop by frayed wires, her sniper disassembled and half-polished. His gaze continued about the room before settling on Shepard, rustling around in a small cabinet. "Look what I’ve got.” She retreated from the cabinet, two glasses and a bottle of something dark in her hands. She tossed it to Garrus. He caught the bottle, twisting it in his hand to see the label and released a low whistle. “Guess working with Cerberus has its perks.” He joked, flaring his mandibles and holding the bottle out to her. “Guess so,” she took it back and filled up a glass, passing it over before filling her own. “To the perks,” she said, gently knocking her glass against his. Not hard enough to spill it, but enough to make a sound. A ‘cheers’ she’d called it before. It always surprised Garus how many casual little rituals humans had. They enjoyed the first sip in silence. She released a groan and sank back into the couch, “Don’t tell Chakwas, but this is so much better than brandy.” “Your secret’s safe with me,” he walked over to the empty tank. Even without fish, it was relaxing to watch the light move through the water. He almost forgot what he’d been trying to ignore when his wrist pinged again. He could feel her watching him. Now or never. “My father reached out yesterday.” She made a noncommittal sound behind another mouthful of wine. “There’s, uh…” he struggled to find the phrasing, “He asked me to come home.” “Is everything okay?” she asked. “Yeah, everything’s fine.” He cleared his throat, “He just thinks…it’s time.” He knew he sounded foolish. He wasn’t sure how to explain it to a human. There was so much context she couldn’t understand. He watched her reflection. Her expression was carefully neutral. She seemed relaxed, but her eyes had a slightly unfocused, calculating bearing. “Is that what you want?” She asked like there was an easy answer, missing all of the complexities that seemed so obvious to him. “My father—,” he turned to face her. “I don’t care about your father.” He laughed, “You two have something in common.” “You know what I mean,” she rebuffed his joke. “What do you want?” “It’s…complicated. It’s not about what I want.” “Why not?” “Because...Turians—,” He paced a few steps away, releasing a frustrated sigh and rubbing his head. He wasn’t going to explain the intricacies of Turian culture to her. He wasn’t sure he even could. “Garrus, this isn’t some teenage rebellion.” He didn’t understand the phrase but he let it go. “This is for the galaxy. Your people should be rallying behind you.” “The way your’s have rallied behind you? Shepard, we're working for a literal terrorist organization.” “With” she corrected, “...But your point isn’t entirely lost.” He could see she wanted to argue more, but had decided on a more tactical route. “So what’s the situation exactly? You go home or you’re what? Banished?” He laughed a little, “Not with quite so much flair.” It was hard to put words to norms he’d always just accepted, “I don’t know how to explain it. To put yourself before the family, before the colony, is…You just don’t.” “This is the opposite of putting yourself first.” He wished he could say that was true. That if it weren’t for her, he’d still be out here fighting the good fight—but he knew better. Sure, he believed in what they were doing, but he was here for her. And they both knew it. “This isn’t Blasto 6, Shepard. I can’t just ask the Turian Hierarchy to just ‘go with it.’ Even you know how crazy it all sounds: ancient machines culling the galaxy?” He paused but she didn’t counter. “As far as they’re concerned, humans have been the biggest threat to the galaxy since the Geth.” “How flattering.” She gulped down the rest of her wine. “And then, after the Citadel, after…you—you know…” he stumbled over his words, refusing to make eye contact. “Well, they gave me time to grieve, and now it’s time to get back to reality.” “Glossing over the fact that this,” she set her glass down and tapped on the table, “is reality. So, what? You don’t go home and it ruffles a few feathers?” He ignored the turn of phrase.

“It’s more than that. We’re a collective, going against the Hierarchy is…egomaniacal. It goes against everything my people stand for.” She still didn't seem convinced.

“It’s not even really about me.” He sighed, “I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but I’m...not exactly a model Turian.” 

She raised her brows and tilted her head. He could tell she was fighting a small mirk, but she didn’t say anything. 

“I was a lost cause long before teaming up with the illustrious Commander Shepard—but my family?” Her brows furrowed and he tried to think of an example, “Say a Turian is demoted. It’s not really his fault. The disgrace lies with whoever promoted him in the first place. It’s the same principle in a family. They’re responsible for my actions as much as I’m responsible for theirs.” He thought he spied some semblance of understanding, “and since I’m not married, that means my father and sister would be—,” “Wait,” she held up her hand, “what does marriage have to do with it?” “It’s—,” He exhaled, annoyed by the tangent he’d introduced to the conversation. Shepard’s eyes flickered with a teasing curiosity, and for the umpteenth time since they’d met, he was grateful Turian’s didn’t blush. He rushed through the explanation. “Every Turian is completely tied to their family from birth. Your name, your reputation, your accomplishments and your failures. Everything is shared. That doesn’t change until you’re married. Then it sort of…” he searched for the right word, “transfers to your spouse?” He watched her carefully, trying to gauge her understanding. “Then, when you have kids, they’re tied to you and your partner until they marry—and so on.” 

He caught a flicker in her expression and stopped, “What?” “So you’re saying you’re twenty-seven years old, you’ve no money and no prospects. You’re already a burden to your parents and you’re frightened.” her words sounded strange. It took him a minute to realize she was using a different accent. He wasn’t sure what purpose it served, but he figured she was making a joke he didn't understand. “I guess?” He shrugged. She dropped it. “So if you were married—,” “It was a bad example.”  “No, no, listen. If you were married and your spouse—hypothetically—requested that you fight, I don’t know, the Reapers, you’d have to listen?” “Have you taken a psych eval lately?” She ignored him, “Then, even if the Turian Hierarchy comes knocking, it’s just about you and your partner? No kids, no dad, no sister to worry about.” “How romantic.” “Is that really how it would work?” She pressed. “You’re glossing over a lot of nuance and context—but on a basic level…yes? I guess.” He crossed his arms. How had the conversation gone so off-course? “Regardless, I still need to—” he stopped, “is something wrong with your leg?” Shepard was crouched down onto her knee. “What? No. This is how humans do it.” “Do what?” “Propose.” She said it so matter of factly he almost felt absurd for asking. “Shepard—” “Garrus—” “Shepard, don’t—” “You can just call me Jane now.” “Stop.” He pulled her up, doing his best to ignore the uncomfortable fluttering in his stomach. She wore a calm, level expression that frustrated and excited him. “I’m not joking.” Her eyes left his and began to drift across the room as she seemed to consider her words. “Listen. I…need you.” She let the words hang for a minute, as if testing the waters. Her eyes finally settled on a point just over his shoulder, mercifully avoiding his gaze. “We’ve been in this together since the beginning. I trust you and I can’t imagine doing…any of this without you.” She finally turned her eyes to his. Her expression serious. “You're my best friend, and if I’m going into hell, I want you at my back—If you’ll have me.” She added.

“Now you’re begging.” She grinned but continued to push, “I’m serious. Nothing has to change between us. You just get a Turian hall pass to come save the galaxy with me.” It wasn’t that simple, but there was something there. “I feel like this conversation has gone from zero to 100.” He rubbed a hand over his face. He felt like he was watching himself, standing dumbly in front of her.  “Time’s kind of a luxury these days,” she shrugged. “Shepard, I don’t—this is crazy.” He shook his head. She stepped towards him and took his hand, “Garrus Vakarian, will you marry me?” He sighed and she laughed. He was confused, flattered—a little annoyed—and something else he couldn’t quite put his talon on. “I’m not taking your name.” He said, finally. She laughed again, and this time he smiled.

[sugar-grigri]

Hi there! Hope you are having a nice day! I really love your csm analyses and meta! It's specially great because I don't understand literary symbolism at all, I'm learning a lot. I was wondering if you had any thoughts on my boy Yoshida. What do you think is his role? Is he only an obstacle for the romantic relationship between Denji and Asa? In a world where every detail has a deeper meaning, why an octopus? Hope you have a great day!

The octopus trap 

I think that if I asked every Chainsaw Man reader about Yoshida, most of the time I'd be told either "I have no idea what he's going to do" or, more precisely, "I keep expecting him to do something, but he doesn't end up doing anything".

You mustn't let your hair stand on end when you read remarks like that. Yoshida is my favorite character of Part 2, yet if I were to describe him succinctly it would be in exactly those terms.

When I say not to be annoyed by these remarks, it's because they're not the result of a lack of writing, a lack of development or even a depreciation of the character, these descriptions only underline the originality of Yoshida's writing.

Yes, it's surely worth clarifying what I mean by all this... 

Let's take a look at things chronologically. Yoshida's first appearance comes just after Asa, who has just discovered she's possessed by the war demon, is unable to set foot inside her school, a victim of anxiety, school phobia and, above all, Bucky's death. 

Yoshida suddenly appears during this scene. He is also quickly associated with Asa, as the demon-hunting club puts him in Yuko's and the protagonist's group. We all said to ourselves: great, something's going to happen between these two! She's dying of shame, so Fujimoto is bound to use this to create more interaction between them.

When Asa comes across her bullies, who have attacked her locker and shoes, only Yuko comes to comfort her, and Yoshida simply fades into the background. It's strange, because it was as if he had brutally hidden himself from the progress of the scenario and the reaction he might have had to this kind of situation. Keep this in mind. 

Then Yoshida reappears in chapter 103, as if Fujimoto were accidentally placing an ink blot in the background, Yoshida simply blending into the background until he hits his target. For the reader, this creates a certain "ah yes, where the hell has he been?" situation, and the element of surprise is intensified by the fact that this is Denji's first appearance as a human in Part 2. This time, Yoshida doesn't disappear into the background, as if evaporated, he appears when no one was expecting him.

Put that in the back of your mind too. 

Then, when he tries to put Denji's goal of a girlfriend into action, he introduces him to Asa Mitaka, whom we suspect, subconsciously or consciously, to be Chainsaw Man's love interest. So we're all thinking (myself included at this point), he's surely going to be the magnet between the two! Which turns out to be completely untrue, as Yoshida brutally declares that Asa has no business getting close to Denji.

This point not only shows that Yoshida's narrative function is hard to pin down, it also proves something else: he's not omniscient. He's not, as I've read, this absolutely perfect string-puller, since it's clear that he doesn't grasp until later that Asa may not simply be a young girl obsessed with finding a boyfriend, but a possessed one who might disturb the target he's watching: Chainsaw Man. 

The aquarium was Yoshida's observation ground. Yoshida has no desire to be active, as evidenced by the telephone scene where, after Asa has been humiliated by his failure to call anyone, he shows Denji his phone, arguing that he can't get a signal anyway. Now I'll get to that line : "Do you think CSM would eat it for us ? The Death devil"

Whether it was making you believe that Yoshida is a genius string-puller, this line made you believe that the boy had something to do with the demon of death. Fujimoto wouldn't ruin so many mysteries surrounding one of the most anticipated demons so unskillfully. That's why it's necessary to interpret it differently. A line belongs to a whole, and this scene between Yoshida and Denji is not a scene that escapes its whole, on the contrary, it has consequences.

It serves to show two things: firstly, Yoshida is aware of Chainsaw Man's ability to erase other demons, which was surely reported by Kishibe who learned of it in chapter 84, proving firstly that the public hunters are now aware of this ability. Something that had never been said before. Then we come to the most interesting part. Yoshida makes it clear in this scene that they've been locked up for three days, and the cases illustrate how each of the students is dealing with their own mortality, with Haruka crying, Nobana flips out, another prefers to be physically active to keep himself busy, while Yoshida prepares to die. As for Denji, he's been through worse, and is cooler than the others.

Then Yoshida pointed out, "Do you think Chainsaw Man would eat the demon of death?" This triggers Denji's act of kindness, as he realizes that he can also "suppress", "devour" fears in his human form, by taking action. Denji has noticed that Asa is looking to be active; she's the one who offered her a date, so she's the one who has priority to receive comfort, so Denji comes to devour the fear that paralyzed the protagonist. All the more ironic given that the demon they were all really facing was the demon of famine. 

I know everything I'm saying sounds disjointed at the moment, but hang on, I need to be a bit descriptive before I connect all this.

The same phenomenon of script feinting will occur, not to make it look like Yoshida will be a love rival, a friend of Asa, the magnet between Denji and Asa, or the demon of death.

No, this time, in chapter 133, Fujimoto makes it look like Yoshida will be a great antagonist by proposing Denji's horrible dilemma of either being human and living with his family or being Chainsaw Man without it. But it all falls apart when he realizes that Denji chooses both, leaving Yoshida completely out of his depth. This time Fujimoto erases all the mystique around this character, he's not the player who moves the pieces against Fami, he's just a mediator. 

The same phenomenon occurs when he locks Denji into this normal life that doesn't suit him, placing him in Fumiko's hands, leading to one of the least "normal" chapters, chapter 137. 

I think that with all this, you're beginning to grasp a certain idea: Yoshida's purpose is a narrative feint, he's a character with indecipherable eyes for us to place all our doubts and mysteries in. The questions just pile up, and we project them through Yoshida, who answers none of them. 

So who is Yoshida ? 

The only thing I can say is that he's a mystery. And when I say this, it's not to clear my name, as nothing can be said about him, because he is written as such and should be appreciated as such. I often read that his eyes, fully black like Kishibe's, are not only perhaps a sign of kinship but also a sign of deep despair. I think it's precisely in this way that we can miss the originality of these characters. 

Kishibe is not placed in the deepest despair, what makes him so strong, what makes him still here, being practically the only veteran of the public hunters (did you notice how young the public hunters still were?), is that he has accepted and internalized the madness of the system, bows to it instead of fighting against it, but is not dominated by it as someone unreasonable would be.

Whether it's Yoshida's black eyes or Kishibe's, the latter are simply the eyes of acceptance of the system. That is to say, their pupils are no longer illuminated by that little personal glimmer, seemingly devoid of emotion, since they are simply a reflection of the darkness of the system, of what's going on through them.

Yoshida's eyes are the eyes of a mysterious system that constantly stares at the characters without responding to them. 

And now you're probably wondering, Anon:

What about the octopus ?

This is surely the most interesting answer to Yoshida's question.

When you're looking for meanings for octopuses, your first instinct is to think of mythology, isn't it? Leviathan, Kranken, Akkorokamui, the octopus is the subject of a multitude of legends, whose interpretations are intertwined, creative, healing or destructive, beneficent or maleficent, or even the subject of great divergence from the public, cute? Or monstrous? 

This follows on from the previous statement: the octopus is a being onto which all concepts can be projected, even if they are contradictory. Yoshida's narrative function is the same: we project whatever we can onto him without him acting on it.

What's the one piece of information you could give me with any certainty? The fact that he's a demon hunter, right? In other words, the only thing you could say about the octopus is the environment it lives in? No ? 

Do you know how octopuses are caught ?

Have you heard of the Japanese octopus trap? Specifically, the takotsubo? In fact, they're not really traps at all, but a form of passive fishing in which simple pierced stones or clay pots are placed on the seabed. The octopuses then enter these pots to protect themselves, using them as shelters to protect their fragile bodies. Above all, when the pots are brought to the surface, the octopuses don't even try to escape, pressing themselves against the walls. 

Yoshida acts like these octopuses, not fighting the system, but rather embracing its walls, thinking he's safe when in fact he's trapped.

Hidden within this obscure system, the octopus has no idea that it's not safe, but has headed for its own destruction.

Now the connections make themselves. The only answer those big black eyes can give is a reflection of the system.

Asa is rejected by her classmates, by this micro-society that is school? The system appears.

Fans cheer Chainsaw Man on, as society is increasingly forged around him. The system takes an interest and invites him for coffee.

As Asa is rejected after her second date with Denji, the system will only add to her loneliness.

Chainsaw Man is a being whose function is to eliminate fears? The system will remind him of this.

Is Chainsaw Man an idiot? Will the system still try to control him, even if it means inhibiting him?

What if we were to use the metaphor of the octopus trap to provide the opposite answer ? Yoshida sticks to the walls of the system.

What does the system do? It weaves itself around Chainsaw Man.

Is this such a good idea ?

[dindjarindiaries]

Security - Chapter 58: The Armor

summary: When Din’s called into duty to save a foundling, Astra stays behind to protect their children, though an adventure of her own awaits her.

warnings: insinuations of sex, light angst, canon-typical violence, fluff

rating: M

word count: 8.064k

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chapter 58: the armor

Life with the covert is exactly what Astra would’ve expected from the greatest warriors in the galaxy. Their days are spent training on the shore, with constant sparring matches and other types of training drills. At night, everyone goes their separate ways for a meal, using the time to prepare for the next day’s activities. Din’s told Astra that this isn’t much different from the life they used to have in the tunnels of Nevarro, though now, they’re even more focused on survival.

Astra muses on this as she sits beside Grogu and Zora on the sandy shore. They’ve both taken a fascination with a cluster of rocks. Astra smiles at their innocent curiosity and turns her head to see Din still standing many strides away with his focus on the foundlings’ training.

It hasn’t been long at all since they returned to the covert. Astra can still feel the lovely ache of their first night, one that lingers as much as the fading lines of art she drew upon her husband’s back and the mark his sweet lips left upon her neck. It’s the first time in a long time that she’s felt at peace with her entire family together and no other quests or shadows looming over them.

Then, Astra sees the hilt of the Darksaber on Din’s belt catch the light. She grimaces and turns back to Zora and Grogu.

Astra wants so badly to believe that this is the home where they’ll stay indefinitely, but she can’t convince herself of it. The covert isn’t meant to live like this, and with the legendary sword Din possesses, he might just have the power to change things. But that’s not the role Din wants; If anything, it’s exactly what their newest ally had once wanted. All Astra knows is that Din will do whatever it takes to make a better life for his family and his people.

And that means yet another quest could be right around the corner.

Astra’s pulled from her thoughts by the sound of Din’s boots on the sand as he approaches them. She turns and watches him kneel between Astra and their children. Din tends to her first, one of his gloved hands taking a hold of her chin and easing her forehead to meet his helmet.

“Something on your mind?” Din asks, his modulated voice soft. She doesn’t need to see his gaze to know it’s searching her own.

Astra offers him a smile. “Not much,” she insists. “We’ll talk about it later.”

Din nods, brushing his thumb over her lip before he turns to their children. “What are you two up to?”

Zora takes a few excited breaths and points to a rock—a moving rock. “Papa, luh!”

“I see it, Zozo!” Din assures her with excitement of his own that he displays just for her. “Did you find a little sea creature?”

“Gogu!” Zora says as she points at her brother.

“You found it, Grogu?” Din asks their son. Grogu coos in the affirmative. Astra chuckles to herself as Din pats his head. “Very good.” Din pauses and gestures to one of the little creatures in Grogu’s hand. “You’ve got to leave them alone now, buddy. It’s time you learn with the other foundlings.”

Astra wrinkles her brow at Din’s words. Before she can say anything, Din’s already picking up Grogu and standing back to his full height.

“Playtime’s over,” Din announces. He nods at Grogu. “I’m gonna need you to focus.”

Astra reaches for their confused daughter and picks her up as she also stands to her feet. “Are you sure he’s ready for that?” Astra asks Din in a low voice.

Din looks at Astra as he starts to lead them towards the training. “You’ve seen what he can do,” Din reminds her. “He’s ready.” Din glances down at Grogu. “His size doesn’t matter. He can persevere.”

Astra takes a deep breath and nods, willing herself to have the same faith in Grogu that her husband does. Zora lets out an anxious coo and Astra gives her forehead a kiss. She can’t be a worried mother forever. Their children are meant to grow and become warriors just like the foundlings who finish a training match in front of her. She just has to trust Din and the way he’ll oversee their children’s training step-by-step, starting with Grogu.

Din stops and sets Grogu on the ground as the foundlings in front of them finish their fight. One of them, his helmet painted blue, manages to throw the other onto the ground just before the judge deems them, “Winner!” Astra looks at Grogu and watches his ears rise and fall.

Astra’s worries start to get the best of her again. Before she can voice them, Bo-Katan makes her approach and asks the same thing. “Are you sure this is a good idea?” Bo questions, her voice low as she joins them at Astra’s side.

“It was his idea,” Astra insists, gesturing with her head to Din.

Din huffs and sets a hand on Astra’s back. “If he’s ever to rise from foundling to apprentice,” Din explains, “he must learn.” He sets his weight on his lip and waves at the Mandalorian from before. “Judge!” The orange-painted Mandalorian makes his way back over to them. Din gestures to Grogu. “He challenges.”

The judge takes one quick look at Grogu. “He is too small,” he observes.

“I am his ward,” Din insists. “Proceed.”

Grogu coos as he looks upon his opponent. Astra resists the urge to give Din a dubious look as the judge continues. “What weapon?”

Din nods at the other foundling. “Let the challenged decide.”

Astra holds Zora close and sighs as she looks upon the foundling. He stands there with his arms crossed in determination. “Darts,” the boy answers.

The judge waves to another Mandalorian. “Bring the training darts,” he commands.

Astra shares a look with Bo-Katan. Bo tilts her helmet at Astra, who shrugs in response. The boy’s voice breaks through their silent exchange. “Why doesn’t he wear a helmet?”

“He is too young to speak the Creed,” Din responds, “and so, too young to wear a helmet.”

The foundling looks between Grogu and Din. “Then he’s too young to fight.”

Astra raises her brow, surprised by the boy’s bold words. Grogu coos in disbelief and turns around to face Din. “‘One does not speak unless one knows,’” Din quotes. “Is that not the Creed?”

“Well, I know,” the foundling mutters.

Din nods at him. “Perhaps this lesson is for you, then.” Astra smiles to herself. The man can’t resist acting like a father even to children who aren’t his own.

The Mandalorian returns with the training darts. He hands them off to the judge, who sets the crate down and opens it. “Fighters, arm yourselves,” the judge commands.

The boy takes his own while Bo-Katan sets a hand on Astra’s shoulder and takes the initiative for Grogu. Astra can just barely make out Bo’s words to him as she secures the darts in place. “Don’t worry,” Bo assures him. “My dad was the same way. He’s just proud of you.”

Astra smiles at Bo’s kind words. Grogu can use all the Mandalorian support he can get. When Astra steals a look at Din, she notices he’s tuned out of their private conversation, his visor instead glancing around as his cuirass rises and falls in a steady breath. Astra begins to wonder if he’s being brought back to his own childhood amongst the Mandalorians.

Bo-Katan stands back at Astra’s side. Astra thanks Bo and she nods in return. Meanwhile, the judge starts to explain the rules. “Each has three darts. You may fire the darts in any order. Each direct hit scores one point. A mark must be visible to score. One round. Highest score wins.”

Grogu turns to look at Din, his lip tucked in uncertainty. Astra’s heart aches for him, though Din’s quick to kneel down to his level. “Squeeze your fist to launch the darts,” Din instructs. Grogu coos and starts to lower his ears. “You’ll be fine.”

Din stands back up to his full level. Bo-Katan gives him an incredulous look. “He doesn’t know how to fire darts?” she questions, her voice hushed.

“He’s got this,” Din insists. “Trust me.”

Astra sighs and looks at Zora. She frowns at her mother and turns to look at Grogu. A smile returns to her lips as she claps her hands together. “Gogu!” Zora cheers. “Go go!”

Grogu’s ears rise on his head at his sister’s cheering. Astra smiles to herself and takes the hint from her daughter. You’ve got this, Grogu.

“Ready,” the judge announces. Both the foundlings nod at him. “Begin!”

Without hesitation, the boy extends his fist and shoots his first dart, hitting Grogu square in the center of his robe.

Astra holds a breath as the judge gestures towards the boy. “Point!”

Grogu turns to look at Din with a doubtful tilt of his head. He coos at his father, who offers a slight wave of his hand. “Don’t look at me. Look at him.” Astra glances at Din and he nods at her. He knows what he’s doing, and it’s likely what his Mandalorian mentor once had to make him do. It doesn’t make it any easier to watch from the side.

“Ready,” the judge calls again. “Begin!”

Yet again, the boy launches a dart quickly and gets a hit on Grogu. Their son coos in disbelief.

“Point!”

Din kneels down to Grogu’s level again. “Grogu, I’ve seen what you can do,” he encourages him. “It’s okay. Show them.”

Both Din and Grogu return to their previous places. Astra holds one of Zora’s tiny hands for comfort. She may still be unfamiliar with Mandalorian customs, but she trusts her husband, and she has faith in their son.

“Ready,” the judge calls one more time. “Begin!”

The boy goes to launch his final dart, but Grogu’s faster. The little one leaps and flips over the boy’s head, earning a surprised “Whoa!” from the foundling. Grogu flips back over as soon as he lands, fully catching the boy off guard before he fires all three darts at once to end the fight.

“Three points,” the judge announces. He points at Grogu. “Winner!”

The gathered crowd starts to applaud. “There you go,” Din praises Grogu.

“Gogu!” Zora joins in.

Bo-Katan looks between Din and Astra. “Did you teach him that?” she asks, impressed.

Din tilts his helmet at her. “Not me.”

“And definitely not me,” Astra adds.

The boy sighs as he walks away from the site of his defeat. Grogu looks at Din with his little chin held high and as Astra steals a look at her husband, she can imagine the way he beams with pride upon their little warrior. “Great job, kid,” Din says, his modulated voice warm with his praise.

“Goo Gogu!” Zora cheers with a few claps of her hands. Din tilts his helmet in admiration of her as Astra smiles with her. “Gogu go!”

“Grogu did it!” Astra adds, kissing her daughter’s temple. Grogu coos and lifts his ears in joy.

That feeling is short-lived. There’s a loud screeching from behind them that causes the entire group to turn in panic. All they can do is watch as a giant raptor flies low and takes the foundling Grogu had just fought in its talons, causing frantic chatter to spread throughout the shore. Astra takes Zora’s head in her hand and hides her little face in her shoulder while Din looks down and makes sure Grogu’s still close and covered. The raptor flies off as the boy screams for help.

Din unholsters his blaster to shoot it, but he’s stopped by Paz. “No blasters,” Paz commands. “It will kill the child.” Din nods and looks to Paz for further instructions. “Follow it to its lair.”

Din turns to Astra and holds her face between his hands. “Stay here and protect the kids,” he instructs. His helmet rests against her forehead. “I’ll be back.”

Astra knows better than to argue with him. When it comes to the safety of any child, there’s no way to talk him out of it. She just nods and squeezes one of his wrists. “Ni kar’tayl—.”

“—Gar darasuum.” Din forces himself to step away as he finishes her phrase. He stays in close pursuit of Paz as he activates his jetpack and follows the creatures, with other Mandalorians trailing.

Astra swallows back her worries for him as she instead focuses on their children. Zora’s whimpering against her shoulder and Astra soothes her with soft coos and a kiss to her head. Astra kneels down to Grogu’s height and runs her fingers along his ear. “It’ll be okay,” Astra assures both of them. “Your father’s gonna help get him back.”

Bo-Katan has since disappeared from Astra’s side, but she’s surprised to find the Armorer kneeling alongside her to help Grogu remove the training darts from his arm. “You did well, Grogu,” the Armorer praises the little one. Grogu coos with delight at her words.

“Thank you for your help,” Astra says, nodding at the Armorer.

The sound of a ship taking off keeps Astra from adding more. She lifts her head to see the Gauntlet following the raptor’s path. The thought of Bo-Katan bringing her ship puts more of Astra’s mind at ease. Din would be much safer within the Gauntlet than he would with just his jetpack. She can only hope that he’ll come to the same realization.

“All right, Grogu,” Astra begins with a soft breath. She gestures to the yellow stains on his robe. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” Astra pauses and glances at the Armorer again. “There aren’t more of those creatures, are there?”

The Armorer shakes her helmet. “Not that we have seen.”

Astra nods, smiling with relief as she stands and urges Grogu to follow her. She walks at his pace to the shore where they sat before. Zora’s already taken a new interest in the rock-like creatures as Astra sets her down and focuses on Grogu. Astra dips her hand into the waters and scrubs at Grogu’s robe. “Your father and I are really proud of you,” Astra tells Grogu with a fond smile. His large eyes sparkle as he listens to her. “You followed through with this challenge and you did it with respect.” She grins and kisses his head. “You’re well on your way to becoming an incredible Mandalorian warrior.”

Grogu coos and reaches for one of Astra’s hands. He takes it and hugs her fingers against his cheek, his eyes closing with joyful content. Astra’s chest goes aflame with the warmth of maternal love and lets it last even when Grogu pulls away and joins in his sister’s play.

Astra lets her children distract her while she waits for Din’s return, even playing with them for a while as they toss the sand around and splash in the edge of the water. She only stops when she sees a group of Mandalorians returning from where they’d flown, though they’re on foot now rather than in the air. Astra’s heartbeat settles only when the sun reflects off the silver beskar that stands out from the rest of the group.

Din’s quick in approaching them, allowing Astra to stay near their children as she stands to her feet. She looks behind him for a moment to notice that none of them are with the missing child. “How’d it go?” Astra asks once Din’s standing in front of her.

Din gives his helmet a shake. “Not well,” he answers, his voice low. Astra sets a hand upon his cuirass for comfort. “Our jetpacks ran out of fuel.” He gestures with his helmet to the place from which they arrived. “Bo-Katan’s pursuing them in her ship, though. Hopefully she’ll return with better news.”

Astra can’t help smiling at Din’s protectiveness over the foundling. “I’m sure she will.” She taps his cuirass and glances towards the entrance to the cave. “It looks like the covert’s headed back inside to regroup.”

Din nods. “They’ll probably want a briefing of what’s happened so far.”

It’s hard for Astra to hear the worry in his voice. His thoughts are likely plagued by the what-ifs of it being one of their children who was taken instead of this foundling, or a guilt that Din had let the boy walk away on his own after the fight. She bends down and picks up Zora to hand her off to her father. Zora squeals with delight and nestles herself into his cowl.

“Papa,” Zora says, her voice muffled by the material of his cape. “My Papa.”

Din just presses a gloved hand to the back of her head and leans his helmet against it. Astra takes Grogu in her arms as they walk in silence towards the cave, following their fellow Mandalorians to their place of assembly. Most, if not all, of the children are missing from the room, likely being comforted by the caretakers of the covert. It’s only Zora and Grogu who stay with their parents, listening to Paz fill the covert in on their hopeful plan of action.

When the sound of the Gauntlet returns, the Mandalorians rise from their seats. Din keeps Astra at his side even as he joins Paz at the front of the group, heading outside to receive Bo-Katan’s news. Din keeps Zora, who’s now napping in content, against his shoulder as he, Paz, the Armorer, and Astra lead the group onto the shore to meet Bo-Katan halfway.

“I kept a high altitude and followed it to its lair,” Bo wastes no time reporting to them. She nods with reassurance. “I know how to get there. We should muster up a hunting party and go after him.”

All helmets turn to the Armorer. “Very well,” she agrees. Her visor looks between Din and Paz. “Clan Djarin, Paz Vizsla, and I will help you form a plan.”

Bo-Katan nods once more before she leads the way back towards her ship. Astra looks at Din, but his visor’s focused on the way ahead. She twists her lips and sighs to herself. While she’d be more than happy to help, she’s uncertain that she’ll be of much assistance without the same equipment as the rest of the covert.

They board the Gauntlet and Bo reaches over her controls to pull up schematics. “I scouted where it lives and mapped the location,” she informs them. She turns and points at a holographic diagram. “There.” She walks between the group and gestures to a high peak on the map that’s flashing green. “The nest.”

Din steps around Bo to get closer to the map. He tilts his helmet, minding Zora’s sleeping head. “It flew a long way.”

Bo turns her helmet to look at him. “I will go get him.”

Paz shakes his head in protest. “The mountains are too high. If we use jetpacks, the beast will hear.”

“It would kill the child,” the Armorer agrees. Din shifts his weight in uneasiness. Astra frees a hand from Grogu to set it upon his back.

“These are no higher than the peaks of Kyrimorut,” Bo-Katan insists. “I used to climb them in basic training. I’ll fly to the foothills, scale the rest of the way on foot.”

Astra bites her cheek. Just as she’d thought before, it would be impossible for her to join this mission. But Din’s mind has already been made up. “I’ll join you,” he says.

“Paz Vizsla,” the Armorer begins, “enjoin the Shriek-hawk Training team to accompany you. I will pack extended lariats for your launchers. We must avoid explosives and blasters for the safety of the foundling.”

The group nods in agreement before they disband. Astra looks at Din while they head down the boarding ramp and speaks to him in a quiet voice. “I’ll stay back with the kids,” she tells him. Din tilts his helmet at her, but she manages a genuine smile for him. “Just don’t do anything too reckless while you’re gone, okay?”

Din huffs and brings himself closer to her side. He hesitates before he responds. “I know you want to help.” He stops them on the shore and lifts a hand to the side of her face. Astra leans into his touch. “I told you we wouldn’t have to separate.” He exhales a deep, troubled breath. “I’m sorry.”

Astra shakes her head. “Don’t apologize to me for being a good man.” She sets a hand on his wrist to lower his hand from her face. She laces her fingers with his own. “We’ll be just fine here.” Astra gestures to the Mandalorians who still surround them. “We’ve got a lot of backup if we need it.”

Din nods at her, keeping her hand in his as they walk towards the mouth of the cave. Paz has already made quick work in gathering the Shriek-hawk team to get the mission going as fast as they can. Bo-Katan and the Armorer work together to load any other supplies they might need onto the ship. While both Astra and Din are eager to help, their focus remains on their family for now, especially as Astra sets Grogu on the ground beside her and takes Zora from Din. Thankfully, their daughter remains asleep during the exchange.

Din gestures to the comlink bracelet on Astra’s wrist, one that’s rarely gone in use before. “Comm me if you need me,” Din instructs her. “Okay?”

Astra smiles and nods at him. “Okay.” She sets a hand upon his cuirass. “We’re gonna be just fine, though.” She gestures with her head towards the Gauntlet. “You can focus on the foundling.”

Din returns her nods and sighs. He rests his helmet against Astra’s forehead and shifts his weight between his feet. He doesn’t have to say anything for Astra to know that he’s just as reluctant to leave her as she is to be left behind. “I love you.”

Astra looks deep in his visor, much like the way she used to before she knew how kind his eyes were behind it. “I love you, too.” She gives his cuirass and gentle tap. “We’ll see you soon.”

Din nods once more and lifts a gloved hand to her elbow. He gives it a soft squeeze before he forces himself to step away and join the others on the Gauntlet. Astra stays where she is with Zora tucked into her neck and Grogu standing just beside her boot. Their family watches as Din and the others take off in Bo-Katan’s ship, heading off to an adventure that isn’t theirs to share.

The Armorer stands just a few steps away, her visor also watching the Gauntlet as it fades from view. She turns to look at Grogu as she breaks their silence. “You are too young to join them,” she informs him. Her visor then lifts up to face Astra. “And you are not well-equipped.”

Astra’s gaze falls to her feet as she shares a look with Grogu. He coos and tilts his head at her, as if they’re both seeking the same comfort.

“All in good time,” the Armorer reassures them. She turns and starts to head back towards the cave. “Come, Clan Djarin. If you wish to continue being Mandalorians, there is much work to attend to.”

Astra furrows her brow at her words. She and Grogu exchange a shrug before they follow the Armorer inside. The Armorer leads them into her forge, encouraging them to each take a seat on the wooden stools before she begins to attend to her tools and the beskar she has to work with.

“This is the Forge,” the Armorer formally introduces the space. “It is the heart of Mandalorian culture. Just as we shape the Mandalorian steel, we shape ourselves.”

Astra smiles as she rests her head against Zora’s. “Din has told me of such things.” Her fondness for her husband is evident in her tone.

“I’m certain he has,” the Armorer responds. “He has been taught all these same lessons, starting with this one.” She pauses to pour liquid beskar into a mold before she continues. “We all begin as raw ore. We refine ourselves through trials and adversity.”

The Armorer heats the metal before she tends to the controls on the forge. Holographic diagrams appear of various shapes of armor. She stops and turns to face Astra.

“Astra Djarin,” she begins with a note of pride in her voice. “It is time you earned your own armor.”

Astra’s head lifts from Zora’s as her jaw falls open in surprise. “Is that possible?” The corners of her mouth have already started to arise in an excited grin.

“It is.” The Armorer turns back to her diagrams and begins with a cuirass. “I can craft everything for you aside from a helmet.” She glances at Astra once more. “That would require you to take the Creed.”

Astra nods at her. “I understand.” Her stomach flutters at the mere idea of standing alongside Din in her own suit of armor, at long last able to fight alongside him the way she’s always wanted to. “It would be an honor.”

The Armorer returns her nod. “Din Djarin will train you.” Astra smiles even wider at the thought of it. “Though, I must warn you…” the Armorer pauses and prepares to begin crafting the first piece of armor, “the Forge can reveal weaknesses.”

The Forge begins to come crashing down upon the metal. Astra tightens her jaw and rests her head against Zora’s again, seeking her comfort. Still, with each crash of the Forge comes a ripple in Astra’s memory, each one becoming more and more powerful until she’s overcome with a shadow of darkness she can’t force away.

“My Lady, we must go,” her head guard insists, taking Astra by the wrist in hopes of pulling her away from the transparisteel.

“I won’t, Lumya!” Astra responds, trying to tear her hand away from her guard. “I refuse to leave our people behind!”

“They’re being evacuated,” Lumya reminds her. She has to raise her voice above the sounds of palace staff running around them, whispers and exclamations of terror at the chaos. “You know this. We may not have much more time!”

Astra gives Lumya a sharp look. “Then I’ll be the last one to leave.”

Lumya exhales a tight breath and sets her hands upon Astra’s shoulders. “Our people have just lost two of their leaders, My Lady.” Astra’s gaze falls at her words. “You have lost even more than that.” Lumya gives her shoulders a gentle squeeze. “They do not wish to lose more.”

Astra’s gaze returns to the Mirialan’s. Her green eyes are full of desperation even before she continues.

“I vowed to your parents that I would keep you safe at all costs.” Lumya nods at Astra. “Let me do that.” She gestures with her head to the transparisteel that overlooks the snow-covered city. “Do it for your people. They need a leader.”

Astra composes herself with a breath, her eyes closing as she considers Lumya’s words. When she reopens them, the sight of Lumya is blurred in front of her, but she clears her throat to keep her grief tucked away. It’s with a decisive nod that Astra finally follows Lumya’s command, letting her guard lead her to the ship that awaits in the palace’s hangar. Astra’s already sickened by the horrors of the day, but the idea of her being in luxury while her people flee only worsens it.

“Lumya,” Astra calls for her guard. Lumya stops what she’s doing at the controls to face her. “I need every ship in this fleet to be filled with Arilian people.”

Lumya nods. “Understood, My Lady. I’ll send out a comm—.”

“Including this one.”

Lumya’s eyes widen. “We may not have time.”

Astra sets her jaw in determination. “Then we’d better board them quickly.”

Despite her worries, Lumya obeys Astra’s command. She pilots the ship from the hangar to the port on the surface of the Arilian city, opening the hatch for the fleeing citizens to board. Astra greets each and every one and helps them onto the ship. The worried faces of her people start to blur together, and when they take horrified looks into the sky, Astra can’t bear to follow their gazes. She only redirects the citizens when the ship is filled to the brim, urging them to board the other ships that have fallen alongside her own.

“My Lady, it’s time to go,” Lumya calls to Astra over the worried murmurs of the Arilian people.

Astra gives her a nod. “Everyone hold on,” Astra gives her people the gentle command. A young girl cries from beside her as the ship starts to take off. Astra turns to the girl and her mother, her hand reaching for the girl’s small one. “You’ve been very brave,” Astra tells her with the best smile she can manage. She gives her hand a soft squeeze. “You’re going to be all right.”

The young girl sniffles, wiping her eyes with the back of her free hand before she returns Astra’s smile. Astra drops her hand and makes her way to the cockpit, watching the atmosphere of Arilia fade from around her for the very last time. Amidst the stars loom the remnants of what once was Alderaan, blazing pieces of civilization that hurl towards the place Astra calls home.

No longer.

“Where are we headed?” Astra asks Lumya, pushing past the lump in her throat as she views the horrifying destruction.

Lumya offers Astra a reassuring look. “Somewhere they won’t find us,” she assures her, entering jump coordinates before she pulls on the lever to provide Astra with the very last view she’ll ever have of her home.

Grogu’s coo pulls Astra from the memory, his ears lowered in his own concern and distress as his little hand seeks Astra’s. She offers it to him along with a gentle squeeze. “I’m okay, ad’ika,” she assures him. Her brow furrows in worry for him. “Are you?”

Grogu nods, his ears rising more and more as he stays close to Astra. She gives his hand another squeeze, wishing more than anything that she could understand him and talk him through his own difficult memories.

The dive into Astra’s haunting past had taken more time than she’d thought as the Armorer soon stops and faces their family. “Your armor is complete,” she announces. “But given the trials you have no doubt faced in the Forge and the late hour, I urge you to seek rest.” She nods at Astra. “We will help you get suited in the morning.”

Astra returns her nod. “Thank you,” she says, her voice strained in her honest gratitude. “It’s truly nothing short of an honor to be welcomed into your covert in such a way.”

The Armorer gives her helmet a fond tilt. “This is the Way.”

Astra stands with Grogu hopping down to her side. “This is the Way.” She leads their family out of the Forge and through the constructed tunnels to their quarters. It seems much bigger without Din being there with them, though it’s manageable for just one evening. Hopefully, it won’t take longer than that for Din and the other Mandalorians to return.

Zora’s still asleep when Astra puts her and Grogu to bed. Grogu’s exhaustion from his day spent playing, training, and facing the difficulties of the Forge causes him to fall asleep without much effort required. Astra smiles as she looks upon her children, their peace providing her with some of her own. She kisses their heads and rises to leave them for the night, giving them one last look before she pulls their curtain closed.

Astra’s own weariness from the day has started to grow heavy as she enters her bedroom. Din’s shirt is still left here for her, making her smile even before she exchanges it for her clothes. Sleeping with an empty side of the bed is difficult after all these years of having someone there, but it’s a temporary arrangement, and Astra can at least rest in the knowledge that Din isn’t alone.

Astra expects the night to transpire with more vivid and haunting images to her past, but the warmth of Din’s shirt on her figure and the scent of him that lingers on their bed eases her into sleep with peaceful dreams of the love they’ve shared and everything else their future has to offer them.

The next morning, Grogu tries his very best to help Astra with Zora. The absence of her father upsets her for quite a while, though when Astra encourages her to reach out and sense that he’s safe, she becomes more content. It’s a joyful flutter Zora sends to Astra’s own chest, one that she’s certain Din feels, too. Once the children are ready and fed, Astra returns to the Forge, where she finds the Armorer finishing something up near the flames.

“Welcome back, Clan Djarin,” the Armorer greets them. She looks up from her work to face Astra. “Are you ready to wear your armor?”

Astra nods, words failing her at the mere idea of getting to earn the sacred Mandalorian metal. Grogu coos from the pod at her side while Zora looks on in both fascination and confusion.

“You will first require a flight suit.” The Armorer leaves her work to pick up a neatly-folded pile of dark cloth that she hands over to Astra. “Return here when you’re settled.”

Astra accepts it and makes her way back to their quarters to change. She can’t stop smiling at the prospect of it all, especially upon observing that the colors of the flight suit are just the same as Din’s own. It looks bare without the armor attached, yet familiar. It’s a sight Astra’s seen on Din regularly, though it often reminds her of their days spent on the Razor Crest before they exchanged their vows.

When Astra returns to the Forge, the Armorer already has silver pieces of armor set out for her. The Armorer nods in approval before she starts to assist Astra in putting her suit of beskar together, piece-by-piece.

“Your set will not be as elaborate as Din Djarin’s,” the Armorer informs Astra as she works. “We must use the beskar sparingly, and at the time his armor was forged, he had a generous amount to work with.”

“I understand,” Astra assures her. “I’m grateful to receive any at all.”

“You are set with the most functioning pieces,” the Armorer goes on. “A cuirass, two pauldrons, two cuisses, and two vambraces.” Astra almost lets a soft gasp escape her when she notices that her right pauldron bears the symbol of their clan: the mudhorn. She grins to herself and lets the Armorer continue. “Your vambraces contain a blade, a fibercord whip, and a flamethrower.” She turns and picks up one more hefty item. “They will also give you control over this.”

The Armorer turns and reveals a jetpack. Astra stares at it with disbelief.

“Din Djarin will train you in the Rising Phoenix,” the Armorer assures her. She walks around Astra and sets the jetpack upon her back. “He will also teach you how to use the rest of your armor.”

The last thing the Armorer hands Astra is a pair of gloves to complete her suit. She pulls them on and glances down. Silver beskar shines back at her, reminiscent of her husband’s but also unique in its own crafting. Her belt is still as useful as it used to be, holding her blaster and any other supplies she has. The weight of it all will take getting used to, especially that of the jetpack upon her back, but Astra’s confident she’ll be able to make it all work.

At long last, she feels like the Mandalorian everyone keeps telling her she is.

“It’s truly my greatest honor to be wearing this,” Astra tells the Armorer, her voice strained in her sudden emotion. She takes another disbelieving glance at her armor and nods at the Armorer. “Thank you.”

The Armorer returns her nod. “This is the Way.” She turns her attention to Grogu. “There is, however, one more piece of armor for your clan.” She walks back to her work station and picks up a circular piece of beskar.  “It is a tradition in our culture for each to donate a small portion of what they earn to the foundlings. It is with these scraps of beskar that I forged your next piece of armor.”

The Armorer kneels down to Grogu’s height and turns the piece of armor around. Just like Astra’s pauldron, it bears the symbol of their clan, the mudhorn taking up nearly the entire surface. Grogu coos in awe while Astra sets a gloved hand upon her cuirass to steady her racing heart.

“Mandalorian steel shall keep you safe as you grow stronger,” the Armorer tells him as she places the beskar over his chainmail. “You will grow into this rondel as you grow into your station, foundling Grogu.”

Astra also kneels down to Grogu’s height and gives his ear a brush. “Look at that, Grogu,” she says with amazement. “We match!”

Grogu coos with delight, nodding at the Armorer with his own gratitude. The Armorer returns the gesture and looks as if she’s about to speak when the sound of a ship approaching creeps its way into the cave. The Armorer rises back to her feet. “The hunting party has returned.” Her visor looks at Astra. “We shall greet them.”

Astra nods and earns a fluttering feeling in her stomach. She’s unsure of how Din will react to seeing her with her armor. It’s a conversation they’ve had many times before, but neither one of them were sure of what the reality would be. All she focuses on is her joy upon being reunited with him, an idea so sweet it triumphs over everything and anything else.

The Armorer leads the way out and Astra takes the pod with her as they follow. Astra smiles when the Gauntlet comes into sight, landing on the shore where other Mandalorians have gathered to await the news of their journey. Astra steadies herself with a deep breath and continues to follow the Armorer as she leads them closer to the Gauntlet. They’re hidden within the crowd of gathered Mandalorians and they stop only when they’ve reached the boarding ramp.

The group watches as the first Mandalorians emerge. It’s Paz Vizsla who escorts the lost foundling, the boy free of any harm. Astra smiles in relief and joins in the celebration of the crowd, hitting her vambraces together in place of applause. She was confident that the group would be able to recover the foundling safely, but to see it confirmed is a consolation.

Astra’s heart launches into her throat when the next person to emerge is Din. She’s even more relieved to see that he’s all right, with no visible new wounds or limps. His visor searches through the crowd and Astra starts to weave herself and the pod through the Mandalorians who stand in between them. As soon as his visor finds her, Din freezes, his entire body going still even as she continues to make her way to him.

“Hey,” Astra greets, her voice soft as she steps in front of Din. He remains where he is, causing Astra’s face to grow warm already. She continues to focus on him as she sets a gloved hand upon his cuirass. “Are you okay?”

Din’s visor gives her an obvious once-over. Astra looks at her hand on his chest in sudden shyness. When he moves, it’s only to lift a hand to the pauldron on her right shoulder. She watches as he brushes his thumb over the mudhorn.

“I know it’ll take some getting used to,” Astra starts to ramble, “for both of us. But the Armorer said you can train me, and hopefully I’m still the quick learner I used to be.”

Din’s visor lingers on the mudhorn for a long moment. It’s with a quick motion that Din’s hand reaches for the back of Astra’s neck to pull her head against his helmet in absolute adoration. Astra beams at him and rests her second hand upon his cuirass for stability. He gives his helmet a gentle shake as he speaks in a rasp meant just for them. “I don’t understand.”

Astra’s brow starts to furrow with concern. Before she can speak on her thoughts, Din continues.

“How do you keep making me fall even more in love with you?”

Astra grins at him, her face now even warmer than before as she shrugs. She’s still not given the proper time to respond as someone else speaks up with excitement from the pod at Astra’s side.

“Papa!” Zora calls for her father. Astra turns to look at their daughter and sees her hands extended towards him.

Din turns his attention away from Astra only to care for their daughter. “Hey, baby girl,” he says as he kneels down to the pod’s level, resting his helmet against her tiny forehead. She giggles and presses a hand against his beskar cheek. “Were you good for your mother while I was away?”

“Mama?” Zora looks at Astra for an answer.

Astra laughs and nods. “Yes. Other than her missing you.” She presses a hand upon Din’s armored shoulder. It sets his attention back on her and his visor gives her another once-over of disbelief. Astra tries to redirect his focus to Grogu. “Someone else got armor today, didn’t you, Grogu?”

Grogu coos and tugs at his robe, showing Din part of the rondel crafted for him. Din gives his helmet a fond tilt and pats Grogu’s head. “Look at that, buddy,” he says, his voice strained much like Astra’s had been. “You earned it. Your mother and I are very proud of you.”

Grogu’s ears rise high on his head at Din’s praise. He babbles a few times, but someone else’s approach draws Din’s focus away from him. One of the Mandalorian caretakers stands beside Din and Astra. “We’re hosting a storytelling session to ease the foundlings and children after yesterday’s events,” the caretaker informs them. She gestures to the pod. “Would your children like to join us?”

Din and Astra look at Grogu and Zora, who both coo in shared interest. Astra smiles and looks at Din, letting him have the final say. He nods at the caretaker. “Sure.” He sets his hand on the edge of the pod and eases it over to the caretaker’s side. “Thank you. Let us know if they need anything.” He tilts his helmet at their children. “Have fun, you two. Be good.”

Zora and Grogu babble at their father, waving before the caretaker takes the pod and rejoins the group of Mandalorian foundlings and children she’s gathered. Astra smiles as she watches them walk off. “That’s sweet of her to do something for them,” she comments.

“It is.” Din sets his gloved hand upon her pauldron. She looks at him and yet again catches his visor looking over her with admiration. He makes a request with a low voice. “May I see you with my own eyes?”

The warmth returns to Astra’s face as she nods. He takes his hand in hers as they make their way towards the cave, setting off to the privacy of their own quarters. She’s used to feeling the material of his leather glove against her hand, but to feel it against her own leather is somehow even more special. They maintain a thoughtful silence as they walk, each sacred word being saved for when they’re alone.

It’s only when they’re tucked in the safety of their bedroom that Din stops them and lifts his hands to his helmet. His brown gaze glitters at Astra even in the dim lighting of the room. He takes his time observing her, setting every inch of her ablaze in the sweetest of flames. Astra’s patient as she waits for him to speak, but he can’t. His eyes meet hers and she can see everything he wants to say in the depths of his sincere gaze.

Yet he still says even more with his actions.

Din’s lips meet Astra’s just as their beskar chests do the same. It’s somehow easy for Din to remove Astra’s jetpack even from where he’s standing in front of her, the equipment being set on the ground before Din gently lays her down. His gloved hands appreciate every new piece of her beskar, though they find their focus on her cuisses as he breathes her in. His lips lavish a thousand praises upon her without him having to say a single word. Astra’s gloved hands find their first mission in mussing his hair, inflicting only the most beautiful kind of pain upon him. Her boots draw him in closer and closer as she indulges in his passionate adoration of her, every piece of her melting at his touch just like the metal that created her suit of armor.

Din only speaks when Astra’s satisfied, his gloved hands lacing with hers to help her sit up once again. He waits until part of her beskar chest has met his own, though her place upon the edge of the bed has caused her chin to rest upon his cuirass as she stares up at him. “Hopefully that spoke for me,” Din says, his tone laced with slight amusement. He bends down to provide her with a kiss that shares in her love.

Astra’s response comes when they pull away. “It did,” she assures him with a love-dazed smile. “It told me that I should leave you speechless more often.”

Din laughs, his gloved hand resting her head more firmly against him. Her cheek presses against the cool metal that covers him and she closes her eyes in content at the feeling. He runs his other hand over her back and speaks in a soft and honest voice. “I feel very honored that I get to train you in this armor. I know you’ll pick up everything very quickly.”

Astra wraps her arms tight around him and keeps them there. “Only because I’ll have a great teacher.”

Din clicks his tongue. “That’s if I don’t get distracted.”

Astra laughs and exhales a gentle breath. Her mind starts to return somewhat to the galaxy around them as she remembers why their children are absent from their quarters. “I’d like to hear about your venture to find the foundling. I’m glad he’s all right.”

Din takes a deep breath of his own. “I am, too. And I’ll tell you. I just…” he pauses, bending down to kiss the top of her head, “I’d like to stay in this moment for a little while longer, if that’s okay.”

Astra beams, her chest fluttering as she nods. “Of course it’s okay.” She pulls herself even closer to him. “I’d like that, too.”

There’s no doubt some heaviness left to unload from Din’s heart at whatever he witnessed on his mission, but for right now, their love can overshadow it. Astra couldn’t have asked for a more perfect way to break in her armor than with the heavy breaths she spent for him and his sweet adoration. She’ll have a lot of ground to cover in her training, but with Din right at her side through it all, she’s confident that there’s nothing she can’t do. Her right shoulder now bears the symbol of their clan and she’s intent on making them proud.

Astra’s not sure when her armor will come in use, though she knows that day will come eventually. The Darksaber’s hilt on Din’s belt resting just underneath her wrist proves that. At least she’s now fully confident that she’ll be ready for it, with both her new beskar and her husband providing her with a security that knows no bounds.

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[delirious-donna]

prologue: New Beginnings

Story Masterlist

pairing: Kakashi Hatake x female reader

warnings: SFW (NSFW in later chapters), mentions of alcohol

wc: 2k

synopsis: Kakashi Hatake, newly appointed Hokage, is struggling with transitioning from active duty to being sat behind a desk. Sure, he might not be placing his life on the line every day but perhaps now is the time he puts something else out there instead, his heart.

Meanwhile, things aren’t quite adding up. There is a discrepancy in the records that cannot be explained, and it falls to you to investigate. Never did you expect it would lead you to the door of the Hokage’s office, a man you had admired from a safe distance until now. What happens next leads you into a closely guarded secret that will change the rest of your life.

In a story where the past might be harder to let go of than usual, can two strangers find a semblance of happiness and peace?

beta reader: a huge thanks to @niatheangel for agreeing to be my beta reader and for holding my hand as I've never had one before!!

“Remind me again why I agreed to this?”

Kakashi’s index finger completed yet another circle around the rim of his sake cup, less than a few sips remained but he couldn’t face them. The same could not be said for his current drinking partner. Lady Tsunade swayed dangerously, clutching the empty sake carafe to her ample chest like it were her treasured child.

“S’too late to change your –,” there was a pause as she belched violently, “mind.” The former Hokage laughed raucously, the carafe between her breasts slipping from her fingers to roll across the tatami mat. It came to a stop as the sliding door opened to reveal Shizune looking less than impressed. Her brow furrowed at the antics of Lady Tsunade and Kakashi braced himself for the ear bashing that was likely to begin any second, glad he wasn’t on the receiving end.

“That’s it, you’re cut off!” Shizune fumed, dark bangs blowing out at the huff that pressed through her nose. The intoxicated Senju merely rolled her eyes, one blazingly red cheek pressed sloppily into her fist. Her blonde hair swung forward to obscure more of her features and Kakashi leaned back on his wrist to survey the situation with a soft sigh of amusement.

He watched the two women bicker back and forth, not truly listening to the words, more noticing the subtle shift in body language that demonstrated the close bond the two had and there was a strange sense of loss in his chest. A palm rubbed at the spot that felt empty, a frown tugging his features down but now was not the time to contemplate unravelling this mystery. Clearing his throat for attention, two sets of eyes swung around, one far more sharp and focused than the other.

“Perhaps I’ll ask you the question instead,” Kakashi gestured to Shizune with the sake cup still in his hand, “why exactly did I agree to this, to become the next Hokage?”

He hadn’t expected the almost apologetic smile that she offered, the softening of her features from riled to guilty so sudden that he stiffened in response. For months now Kakashi had the sense that he had made a mistake, that this path was not one meant to be walked by him. More fitting of another with the patience required of the position. This wasn’t his forte in life, surely?

Spending every day putting his life on the line for his village, protecting the ones that he cared for most and nurturing the future generations of shinobi, that was his calling, what he knew best and now he was expected not to do that? A life of sitting behind a desk stacked with reports, missions to be assigned rather than undertaken and decision-making at a level he considered to be far above his stance.

It had felt like the next logical step and it wasn’t the first time he had considered taking the position. There had been that brief time when the worst had been feared for Lady Tsunade and Kakashi had been seconds away from filling the role, but thankfully it had not been necessary. The few he had trusted enough to discuss matters with before he had given his final answer had all agreed that he would be perfect for it, but it was hard to agree with them and he disliked doubting his abilities. It wasn’t something he was used to doing, nor did he wish it to become habitual.

“Superiority complex?” chided Tsunade.

Kakashi shrugged, returning his now empty cup to the table and looking toward the sober person in the room. Shizune fidgeted, her eyes never seeming to meet his own and that only piqued his curiosity further. “You didn’t think I would take the offer, did you?” he asked flatly. Shizune exhaled with her shoulders rolling back, finally maintaining more than a fleeting second of eye contact.

“Honestly? No, I didn’t think you would agree. That is not to say that I don’t believe you to be fitting for the role, far from it,” she added with a pointed finger. “It’s just… don’t take this the wrong way, but I never thought you’d willingly step back from active duty.”

She wasn’t wrong. It was the main reason he had taken so long to deliberate. 

“I don’t think that anyone can answer your question but you, Kakashi. I’ll see you through the transition but I’ll remind you that a replacement is something that needs to be at the top of your priority list.”

“No worries, I have a thought on that already,” he reassured with a closed eye smile, wondering just how exactly he was going to broach that subject with the person in mind. He could already tell that it might be a hard sell, a lot of work for someone that did their very best to shirk as much responsibility as humanly possible.

“I guess you’re right Shizune, I’ll have to do some soul searching.” Kakashi pushed to standing but before he could take the few steps required to reach the sliding door, he was interrupted by a powerful palm that stilled against the very centre of where his scar lay beneath the layers of clothing. He hadn’t even noted her stand until she was directly before him.

Tsunade appeared more lucid at this moment than she had all night, including prior to her descent resulting from the copious amounts of sake she had imbibed. Brown eyes, dark and searing, held him in place. Gone was the intoxicated humour, the light that had danced in her eyes snuffed out and here was the serious Senju princess ready to face any foe in her stead.

“We both know that even if it isn’t the entire reason, it is partly because you owe me. Isn’t that right?”

There wasn’t a verbal response required, the weight of the former Hokage’s words hung around his neck like heavy steel. Kakashi inclined his head and stepped past the two ladies without a backwards glance. 

The streets of Konoha were quiet, the velvet blanket of night resting over the village and bringing with it a sense of tranquillity. Too bad that he could not benefit from that peace.

“You’re right. I owe you a great debt.”

~

“Do you really think they made the right choice?”

You frowned into your empty sake cup, you could’ve sworn that it was full mere seconds ago but only crisp white porcelain stared back at you. Touching your face, the heat of your cheeks was undeniable, evidence enough that you had in fact drained your drink in record time, and you took to fanning your face with a flat palm.

“Course they did. You’re always doubting yourself and your abilities, it’s getting kinda old now.” Your favourite co-worker and friend groused, waving a dismissive hand at your continued self-doubt.

Flattening your fingers over your cup, you tried, and failed to dissuade her from pouring more sake from the carafe on the table. Sighing heavily as another co-worker sat beside you with a friendly nudge aimed at your side.

“You went for the promotion and you got it. They’re not just gonna give it to someone if they don’t think they are capable so stop being such a worrier.”

You nodded slowly. They were right and if you were completely honest, you were on cloud nine about the news. Long had you wanted to progress your career, to start climbing the ranks and now you were finally getting somewhere. 

It seemed trivial in the grand scheme of things; there would always be that lingering thought that you were so much less than those that called themselves shinobi of the Hidden Leaf, but someone had to do the boring shit, and one of them was you. 

Never had the world of the shinobi been your calling. It was in your blood, your own father having served as a jonin for many years but that wasn’t your calling and your parents were simply content that you were happy. 

A toast was raised in your name, the alcohol that heated your cheeks only intensified by your embarrassment but you looked to your friends with affection and downed your drink in a quick gulp.

The sake house was lively on this night, the sectioned rooms keeping the noise of the respective gatherings subdued but laughter and conversation could still be heard from the main hallway. Your own room, despite only housing the three of you, was raucous enough to contend with the others, lively chatter and moments of whooping laughter filled the air as well as your heart.

Your head was growing fuzzy from the abundant booze, and it made you confident. “I honestly think that this is gonna be the event that sets my career in motion,” you enthused, hands gesturing wildly which only drew amused expressions in response.

“Oh yeah? Records supervisor is hardly a high-ranking position. What exactly do you think is gonna happen other than you spending your days looking over dusty ass files?”

You stood with a wobble, reaching out your hand to steady yourself on the wall whilst your friends laughed. “You don’t know! Hey, maybe I’ll make friends with some highfalutin officials, y’know, the ones that serve the Hokage directly or something wild like that.”

Excited giggling broke out at that absurd idea, all of you knowing that the chances of that were slim and not simply because, why on earth would you be mixing with those types of people, but also because you were more likely to walk through the streets of Konoha buck naked than approach ‘one of them’.

Perhaps it was foolish to set yourself apart from them but it was so very hard when you grew up to revere those that protected your home. You grew up swapping stories of the legendary shinobi and gushed endlessly over who you found to be the cutest. A game, nothing more than silly adolescent fantasies of being swept off your feet by a roguishly handsome shinobi who wouldn’t care that you were merely a civilian and you were reminded of those memories as your gaze sluggishly trailed around the room.

“I’m calling it a night, got work in the morning and I don’t wanna be trashed on the first day in a new role,” you stated. Your friends whined and tried to persuade you to stay to no avail. Leaving them to the rest of the sake, you thanked the hostess and shoved your feet into your shoes.

The night was cool and clear, the stars winking in the blackness of the sky and you took a moment to admire them before setting off for home. It was quiet and you enjoyed the sense of peace, the warmth from your cheeks dissipating as a faint wind blew through the streets.

Lost in thought, you began to hum a familiar tune, it was a habit of yours and it wasn’t until you sensed another presence did you stop.

Ahead of you, there was a figure in the distance, hard to make out except to say they were male and their hair was exceptionally light. They were far enough away that you didn’t find it concerning but you kept your eye on them as you continued on your path towards your home. 

They soon turned a corner to head in a different direction and the slight worry that had burrowed into your stomach melted away. Your peaceful humming restarted in earnest, picking your way through the streets unknowing that the man had stopped out of sight. He couldn’t see you, but he could hear you and he liked the sound of your voice. It brought him the first sense of peace in the longest time and it was intriguing.

To say that things were about to change, well, that was an understatement.

[skeletondoggy]

okay writing down my SMTV:V (world's funniest abbreviation btw) thoughts here before I forget. Full spoilers for the original SMT V you've been warned.

OKAY. SO. FIRST OFF WOW I am so so glad they are taking another stab at an alternative scenario instead of just doing either a base Maniax version or the route stuff Redux did. I really appreciate the first game's scenario (as controversial it is) and I wanna talk about what the director said about The Bull and The Snake.

SMT V vanilla is, to me (and friend's I've discussed it with) a game about bonds, the destruction of set standards, and most importantly Being Forced To Go Against Your Own Ideals. The way SMT V twists and distorts alignments and breaks them down is EXTREMELY interesting, but more importantly I think it's important that they don't necessarily Reflect What's Given.

Time and time again the game lets you know this is not the Nahobino's choice. This is a choice of an auxiliary force, and even at the end things don't really land on where they might have. The protagonist is an unwilling figured dragged along in the plans of others to the very, very end. A character that nothing works out for, because they have a fate they must choose.

This is also reflected in Tao's character as well and her lack of agency near the end. While joining Naho is her choice she's...kinda a victim of it all. A saint chosen by Bethel who is used as a martyr figure who then only comes back later, to reveal that she is going to disappear. Everything that makes Tao herself is taken from her, as she becomes a function in the wheel of life and not her own.

The Naho and Tao as figures have the power and fate to change the world, but never for themselves or their own ideals. Never for a better tomorrow, and even when that's chosen they must reckon with a broken throne. Even when Naho desires a normal, peaceful life without divinity in the true route he cannot get it. He is trapped. With Tao as the throne, and him as the lone overseer of all.

This is the bull! It's easy to see, how the horned king sits atop with nothing to share, nothing to love. And this where I'm really interested with Vengeance. Especially considering (guess who) LILITH! Because, in an interesting twist, LUCIFER actually represents the snake who offered knowledge to people in the context of SMT V!

Assuming the other figures within the group will follow suit, I think this is going to be a story about lashing out at the set systems and the snake represents a place of dis-empowerment. A place of rejection, and one where I think many characters are gonna see themselves way, way more active.

In the trailer, Tao says this very interesting line. "You're not along, if you want revenge I'll help you get it." We're then shown a shot of her with Sahori, which means this line is being said there or is probably from another part of the game. But IMMEDIATELY I think it's a very very very big deal to talk about!

Tao as a character is someone who's set into a complacent position through Bethel (and tbh the game too a little), so a self declaration like this could mean a lot of things! On top of this, we see her WELL and alive during the Lahmu section (with Atsuda replacing Lahmus place? Hello?)

Miyazu as well seems to be more directly bitter in the trailer (pleaseee let Khonsu stuff be in the main story lol) which indicates a more direct active role as well! Both her and Tao are very much characters who've been hurt or exposed as weak in the systems that they're trapped in. And fucking hell I'm curious what they're gonna do.

The Bull is a representation of given power, but a lack of control. Thus thematically, I like to think this may mean the snake represents gained power through one's own control. SMT V is a game about the people and their struggles, the way the universe has dealt them unfortunate hands, and how they must brunt this fate even if it is to make them miserable and they never "win". So perhaps this is a story of victory, or clawing for victory as hard as one may.

oh also i think yoko and lilith are def a naho pair lol THANKS FOR READING

[loksthegreat]

what happens to rhaenyra in your story? who's her husband? her children? her role? does viserys remarry after aemma and has the green children? does the dance happen?

Thank you so much for asking!! Alright here’s how I see this going down :

So in my first draft and plot line which is still the one I’m mostly using, cause it’s really well detailed, Alicent still marries Viserys and is as miserable as in canon, however I always thought that the dance was more of a Aegon vs Rhaenyra thing, not the Alicent vs. Rhaenyra conflict that hotd is making it out to be so the main antagonist is really just Aegon, who takes the opportunity to become king, and the great houses of Lannister and Baratheon who are fed up with the crown and don’t want a woman in power, however I recently started questioning why Otto would push Alicent to marry Viserys when he already has four sons by Visenya in 106 AC (which is the year Alicent marries Viserys) soooo I think I will scratch that and just let the dance of dragons be less like the canon dance (so no siblings fighting for the throne) and more of a normal war/rebellion (I’m thinking of doing something with the Targaryen bastards of Daemon/Viserys/etc, because I really have a few of them), but don’t worry I plan to write about the generations of made up Targa following Visenya too, and three kings and one queen later, we have a real Targaryens fighting Targaryens for the iron throne kinda situation around 200 AC.

Okay so back to the actual questions asked; I think Viserys will be less drawn to remarrying, since Alicent isn’t actively trying to seduce him and he probably doesn’t want to risk the claims of his daughters, however I think the Velaryons are still gonna be pushing for him to marry a daughter of theirs, which in my story would be Valaena, (mainly because I really don’t see Laena and Viserys happening ever) and since Viserys is a bit of a pushover, I think there is a strong chance of that happening (even though it might take longer, with Otto pushing against it). I have been playing with the thought of Viserys being the father of Valaenas kids for a while, since I already got them planned out, and it would make sense for me cause I believe in the theory that all riders of Balerion struggle with infertility and since Viserys only rode him once, he got daughters, but all his sons died at birth.

Alright now as for Rhaenyra, I see her having a happier live for sure, without the burden of being heir, and with Viserys not forcing her to live the consequences of his mistakes by making her marry Laenor, if he’s already married to Valaena. I’m not sure whom she will marry yet though, in the current state of writing she’s still very much an eight year old so I haven’t worried about it to much. Either I’ll make up some OC she can marry, or maybe she’ll just be allowed to marry Harwin, since he’s a knight, son of the Hand, and heir to his house he sure isn’t the worst match, and again in this story Rhaenyra has a good few sisters, especially if I make Valaena marry Viserys. I still plan for her to have those three sons and then maybe remarry and have more hypothetical kids, cause I still have reasons to kill Harwin and Lyonel. Who knows maybe she’ll even marry Daemon like in canon.

As for Rhaenyras role I am obviously pushing her to the side a bit, since she’s not the heir (I’m sorry I’m trying not to steal her entire storyline and life too much) she and Visenya spend the first four years of Rhaes life completely separate and while Visenya has a complicated relationship with her father, he dotes on Rhaenyra, so it takes a while for Visenya to warm up to Rhaenyra, they eventually grow close a few years before Aemmas death and stay like that until Rhaenyra eventually realizes Visenyas involvement in Harwins death and well, after that things are a bit frosty. Alicent is also gonna be romantically involved with Rhaenrya after Otto is dismissed as Viserys Hand and he and Visenya leave for Dragonstone. So that is another factor that sort of complicates the whole sisterly dynamic…

Wheww, I hope that wasn’t too much rambling and makes a little sense! Please feel free to asks any more questions you have, I love getting to talk about my fav OC and her family!!!

[sourkitkat73]

I just rewatched both Suicide Squad movies and find it interesting how the themes and I suppose morals (for lack of a better term) changed from movie to movie.

The first movie is somewhat authoritarian. The villains are forced to fight against other meta humans or die. And while obviously our main characters aren’t a fan of that due to their lives being on the line, the movie itself doesn’t really criticize it. We’re shown bad prison conditions and our main characters are being forced to do a job that might kill them to “do good for society”. Waller is seen as someone doing her job to protect America and yeah, maybe some people have to suffer for that, but that’s the price to pay, right? Someone has to be willing to do the bad stuff to keep the country safe.

This parallels with a lot of things that happen in America. A lot of American prisons are full of abuse. They have terrible conditions and inmates are forced to do work for little or no pay. Just like what happened to the Suicide Squad. They were given 10 years off their prison sentences (some of which were multiple life sentences) and Harley also got an espresso machine. Deadshot gets nothing close to what he wanted. And they quite literally saved the world. I think it’s also worth looking at Waller. In a lot of American spy films, there’s someone who’s willing to do bad things to protect their country and as the viewer, we’re usually on their side. The first Suicide Squad doesn’t address that Waller’s actions were bad and that she could’ve done things differently. If she hadn’t been trying to weaponize The Witch in the first place, there wouldn’t have been a big bad to fight. And even if there was a bad guy that only the Suicide Squad could take down, Waller could’ve treated them with more humanity and rewarded them properly.

The Second Suicide Squad is completely different. The premise is the same, but narrative lens is not. Our protagonists discover how terrible the Project Starfish experiments were, and the viewer is filled with horror and sorrow at seeing the human experiments. The film tackles authoritarianism and how wrong it was of the Corto Maltesian government to conduct them and send their political enemies there. Then later in the film, it’s revealed that the American government knew what was happening and played an active role in it. The suicide squad was just sent in to make sure America’s role in it didn’t get out to the press and general population. I really love the fight between Peacemaker and Flag, and how the viewer is shown how wrong Peacemaker’s worldview is. Flag’s last lines are “Peacemaker? What a joke”. I also really love Walller’s staff and how they change with the viewer’s perspective throughout the film. At the beginning of the movie, they bet on which members of the suicide squad will die. But as the film continues they start to question Waller’s actions. “Would you really have done that to his daughter?” And when Waller both admits that she doesnt care what happens to the Corto Maltesian people and tries to kill the suicide squad for trying to fight the giant alien parasite (that has the potential to kill everyone), her staff stops her.

I think the second film is really interesting and instead of being a dark twist on the classic American spy/superhero movie, it’s a movie that actively critiques American culture and encourages the viewer to think.

[strawberrisoulmate]

✍️🌦️💞☕️💘 for your ace attorney insert!! <3

wahhh yay, thank you!!! I've been on an ace attorney kick lately, so I'd be happy to talk more about my insert!! ♡

✍️: Overall, how does the fandom treat you? Are you a beloved character, or hated? Are you popular, or a minor side character? Anything in between?

I feel like my insert would be pretty looked-over in the grand scheme of things, honestly. She wouldn't be a major main character like Phoenix or Maya or Edgeworth, and would only show up as the defendant in one case and a witness in another. Some people might dislike her, for whatever reasons (I can also see her being compared to someone like Maggey a lot), but I think the general consensus would be fairly neutral.

🌦️: Would you be accompanied by mostly fluff or angst fanfics? Both? Explain why.

Hmmm, I suppose that depends. I think there'd be a lot of angst surrounding my insert's relationship with Godot and how she fits into his narrative (initially reminding him of Dahlia/prosecuting her trial despite her being innocent/him later being convicted guilty of his own crime and being imprisoned for it/etc). But I think whatever angst that would come out of our ship would be accompanied by a lot of comfort fics. I think our main genres in the fandom would be "angst with a happy ending" and "hurt/comfort".

💞: Aside from with your f/o, who else would you commonly be shipped with? Why?

I really can't imagine her being shipped with anyone else, tbh. Not necessarily because I'm only interested in Godot, but because I don't think she'd be a major enough character to warrant shipping her with anyone else. There might be a couple rarepairs and crack-ships out there involving slightly-related characters like Mia or Dahlia (or maybe even Larry if you take into consideration his role in Bridge to Turnabout, but that's a stretch imo), but I don't think there'd be anything outside of shipping her with Godot.

☕️: What are the most common plots of shipping fics between you and your f/o?

Post-canon coffee shop AUs, for sure. I have it established in my canon that we do open up a coffee shop together a while after Godot is released from prison and makes a small cameo later down the line (probably in one of the Apollo Justice games tbh), so I can imagine a lot of fics centering around that. Also, I'm sure a lot of fics would probably dive deeper into the time period where Godot is still in prison that would otherwise be offscreen.

💘: Why would people love your ship? Why would people dislike your ship? How might it start debates?

Oh, the Mia vs Hannah debates would be horrendous, I can already tell. There would be a lot of people who would really hate our ship because 1) my self insert is pretty vastly different from Mia and therefore doesn't "suit his type" and 2) because showing Godot actively moving on from his previous relationship and finding someone new after Mia's death would make a ton of people mad.

I do imagine that there would be people who really like our ship, however, because having Godot move forward with his life and find someone new to love is a pretty blatant display of his character growth and shows that he is finally learning to not cling so desperately to a past he can't change and instead start creating a new future for himself. It's what Mia would have wanted for him — to move forward and be happy — and it makes me glad to think that some people would recognize that and want that for him as well.

[chronostachyon]

Personal shit below the break (family sexual abuse, fundamentalist Christian religious hangups)

Goddamn, I'm really going through it this last week. I mean, the present is going okay, but that's giving me time to think about the past. And I'm having a hard time drawing a line between processing and wallowing. Especially when I have a bad habit of intellectualizing my past instead of feeling it, out of that fear of (being accused of) wallowing.

As a teenager my stepfather was abusing me in secret. I felt trapped, no one I could turn to, and the times I tried hinting at what was happening I was actively shamed for it. Internally, I was screaming for help. For my mother, my bio father, my friends, my teachers, for whatever gods or spirits might exist.

No one answered.

From the start:

Before my mom divorced my bio father, I was raised Church of Christ as a small kid. You've probably never heard of them. Conservative, fundamentalist, evangelical, full-immersion baptist (with a dunk tank under a trap door behind the podium), not as charismatic as the Pentecostals (e.g. no glossolalia) but otherwise not far off from that. No dancing, no secular music, no musical instruments in church (it's "lying to God" to use anything but your own natural voice in hymns)... although our family ignored those rules outside of church without a second thought.

I don't know how much of this was the church's teaching and how much was my weird-ass autistic + OCD brain jumping to conclusions, but as a kid I believed that God was listening to my every thought. On the one hand, I had to keep my thoughts perfectly pure or I would go to hell and fully deserve it. On the other, God saw everything I was going through and would make sure it was never more than I could handle.

Well, my stepfather was more than I could handle. But I'll get to that in a minute.

When I was 9 years old, they kicked my mom out for divorcing my bio father -- or, rather, for remarrying afterward ("adultery"). We went down the street to the Southern Baptist church of my stepfather's family, which (if you can believe it) is a vastly more liberal denomination than my childhood church. At that point, I realized how much of this stuff was made up by humans, and I didn't really care much anymore about specific doctrines. But I still believed God was in my head, in all of our heads, listening to our thoughts (for better and worse).

When I started to come to terms with my sexual orientation around age 12, being a young man attracted to men, the religious stuff in my head never presented much of an issue. Yeah, other people would judge the fuck out of me, I knew that well, but if God was going to be mad about something I had no control over, then I'd gladly face Him and walk backwards into Hell (to quote dril, the poet of our times).

Other things still bothered me, though. Puberty was rough. I still believed in a lot of prudish anti-sex nonsense, and the more guilt I felt over being a "pervert" the more and more I felt subconsciously compelled to lean into it and be more "perverse", to prove to myself how irredeemably awful I was. In retrospect, a lot of that was my stepfather's manipulations, which years later I recognized as what's now called "grooming". Some of those manipulations were done in plain view of my mom, sometimes even with her approval, her trusting that he understood teenage boyhood better than she did, and mostly just happy that he was taking a more active role in fatherhood than my bio father ever had. Even so, the things she saw were all couched in ways that made them sound supportive or even sexually liberatory... but they were very much not when you considered his private behavior toward me. He made it so that she and I had completely different views of the situation, driving a wedge between us so that I couldn't ask her for help.

When he finally molested me for the first time, a few months after I turned 16... well. I had been somewhat holding it together up to that point, by compartmentalizing and intellectualizing and dissociating. But from that point on it was too much for me. Each time it repeated, which it did many times over the next two years and once more after I left for college, I obediently went along with what he wanted, feeling like he hypnotized me or reprogrammed me like a robot or whichever metaphor you prefer.

And then I felt like shit afterward, because my actions said more about my true self than the rationalizations in my head. I'd always strived to rid myself of rationalizations and projections and other irrational things, demanding that I see things the way they are, because I saw them as the root of all interpersonal drama thanks to the TV and movies I grew up on (esp Spock from Star Trek). And, as I saw it, I was failing. I was a bad person and just couldn't admit it to myself.

About two months after he first started molesting me, I ended up doing something stupid with a vibrator and needed abdominal surgery to extract it. It bled for two years, and oozed for three more, thanks to the waistbands of my jeans. The scar still acts up to this day, almost 30 years later. It always reminds me of him when it does.

In the aftermath, what I needed was for someone to listen to what I was going through, and hopefully to end the situation with him abusing me.

What I got was shame:

my sister, for wasting family money on medical bills

our bio father, for seeing this as yet another attempt by my mom to "get him" with child support... which implied either that I'd done this to myself according to her plan, OR that he didn't give two shits about whether or not my mistake killed me and wished I had died of bowel obstruction to save him money

(even though I don't think he ever thought it through that far, because in retrospect he had about the same level of self-awareness and emotional maturity as Donald Trump)

(thank fuck he's dead now)

my stepmother, who really was a better fit for my bio father than my own mother ever had been

(not a compliment)

(still pissed about all the homophobic shit she's flung at me, her lesbian daughter, and anyone else in her blast radius all her life)

my doctor, for me being an "active homosexual" who was going to die of AIDS if I didn't pay attention to his safe sex lecture, when I already knew all that shit by heart because I was terrified out of my mind by my bio father's brother dying of "pneumonia" (AIDS) when I was 7

my classmates in high school, who'd I'd only told that I'd had an "intestinal blockage", and they responded by lecturing me about eating too fast

some of my teachers, none of whom ever said anything directly to me, but I think a lot of them had already guessed I was gay, or put two and two together after the "intestinal blockage", or else exchanged rumors in the teacher's lounge... and several of them were very cold, to me specifically, after that

(particularly my AP history teacher, a devout Mennonite)

(I hope he's grown as a person since then, but it hurt a lot)

It wasn't until a few years later that I really started to accept myself as agnostic / atheist. But, with hindsight, I think that's the moment it started to happen. God, the all-powerful and all-knowing and all-benevolent, who could not possibly have been unaware, had stood back and let this happen to me. My bio father, who emotionally functioned as a stand-in for God in my life, cared more about money and his grudge against my mother than he cared about me... and in retrospect, he always had, even when I'd idolized him as a little kid.

I wish someone could have taken me aside as a five year old, and told me that God wasn't listening to my thoughts, that psychic powers and Vulcan mind melds and merged consciousnesses and energy beings weren't real, that no one else would ever hear my thoughts if I didn't speak them out loud, that feeling a feeling from something doesn't mean that everyone else who witnessed it feels the same thing from it, and above all else, that we all have to speak up to be heard.

I'm sorry, five year old me. You deserved a better life. And you deserved parents who talked to you, instead of just assuming that since you were "smart" you would figure everything out on your own.