#I don't want too get too complacent with how good this offer seems

[waitineedaname]

I keep looking at this tuition calculator, certain something must be wrong. canadians, are you aware of how good you have it

[thebibliosphere]

Joy! I've officially jumped on the Phangs bandwagon, so I can finally send coherent questions about it—how did you come up with the political landscape? I imagine it's at least partially inspired by true events, but how do you keep straight the political compasses of each character?

Eeey! Welcome aboard!

And yeah, a lot of it's based on history, but also a lot of current events if you squint. (Or maybe you don't need to squint.)

As for how I keep the characters straight (ha!) I had definite ideas about them while forming their personalities and history.

Nathan is the youngest and only starting to question the political landscape around him. He's not politically unaware but perhaps a little naive and unwilling to see how corrupt everything is.

He's been conditioned from a young age not to question authority. Military indoctrination will do that to you. Only when he finds himself on the frontline of an unjust and hopeless war does he realize things aren't what they seem. He still toes the line... until he gets injured, and the true depths of how little the military or government cares for people like him gives him a nasty jolt. Even in the first book, he's still somewhat in denial because part of him doesn't want to admit that he's been complacent. You can see what in the conversation with his brother Miles. His realization that he's spent his whole life following orders doesn't sit well with him, and that's a theme that will continue for his character in all future books.

It's only when he meets Vlad that he genuinely starts to question things, and that's because Vlad is the walking embodiment of a homemade Molotov cocktail wrapped up in a silk suit and a fierce, unshakeable sense of justice.

Vlad was created as a challenge to the bored, misanthropic vampire stereotype who doesn't give a shit about humanity because they've been around for hundreds of years and lost all faith in humanity. If anything, the longer Vlad is around humanity, the more fiercely he loves it and wants to do everything he can to help them. He grew up under the bloody iron fist of his grandfather's regime and saw firsthand what happens in a world devoid of democracy, and he's been running from it ever since.

He can only do a little under his father's thumb. But what he can do, Vlad does with all of his being. He's found ways to enable free schooling and medical care on the island, and if you give him a few more decades, he'll find a way to make housing accessible, too. (It's a numbers game, and he's very good with numbers. And honestly, his father doesn't pay too much attention to what he's doing. Not if he's careful about it...) He's also a staunch believer in the power of worker's unions, and despite technically being the person the unions would fight against, he is trying to help the workers of his island unionize because he believes it is the just and right thing to do.

Ultimately, Vlad is my firebrand catalyst for change, and I am really looking forward to exploring his arcs in future books.

Ursula is... tricky. She's in a precarious situation where she can't afford to draw attention to herself and, at times, has been forced to side with people she'd otherwise cheerfully drown because they could offer her the best protection. It's exhausting and soul-destroying, and it leaves her feeling powerless. Which is laughable when considering who she is. What she is.

She hates it. She wants it to be different. She doesn't like feeling so hopeless. Defeated. But she's tried to change things in the past, and it almost destroyed everything. So now she just keeps her head down and works from the shadows. It's safest that way. Not to mention quicker. After all, what's one more human war to an immortal [REDACTED]? If she ignores it, it'll go away. Eventually. Right? Right? (This may or may not be the denial talking.) (It is absolutely the denial talking.)

The fact that human politics are about to severely and unavoidably affect her will not go down well. Ursula is, in fact, going to be bloody livid about it. Not to mention guilt-riddled for burying her head in the sand and letting the humans go unchecked for so long.

Fortunately, she's got some new allies in her corner. A fiercely protective werewolf with a newfound sense of political rage and a vampire who's been spoiling for a fight of this magnitude for over four hundred years. Maybe, just maybe, this time, things will be different...

[piratesoftheseaandsky]

Gods, Villains, and the concept of Change

I beat in Stars and Time recently, and it got me thinking.

Spoilers for In Stars and Time, Persona 5 Royal, Destiny 2: the Final Shape, and Slay the Princess.

The games listed above are some of my favorite, and they have a common ground I didn't expect. Change. Resistance to it, and how that affects the world around it. They're all excellent games made with a lot of love, and I highly recommend them.

Let's start with Persona. Persona 5 Royal is an angry game. It is a game about spitting in the face of complacency. In it, you fight a total of 2 gods. The first is one brought into being from humanity's want to not need to choose. It's a critique of Japan's culture just allowing heinous acts to occur without anyone speaking up because of a whole lot of factors. Prestige, corrupt and failing systems, so on and so forth. That's not why I want to talk about it.

I want to talk about it because this is the most grounded form of resistance to change that I can offer. The god you face says it outright, this is what people wanted, this is a longing from a society at large. No one wants to have to be the one coming forward to fight against things that feel too expansive to handle alone. So, they stagnate. So the world stagnates, and so comes a god of control, to make those decisions for you. And so you are complacent. The point of this game is to scream and bare your teeth at it, to rage at allowing others to be hurt because you're comfortable, because you don't want to pursue change.

You kill that god, stand on its corpse, a bullet through its metallic skull, and prove that things can change, that it's worth a shot. That complacency is not the answer. That to get better, we have to change.

Then comes the second god. A man, one so maddeningly stuck up his own ass that he can't imagine anyone's perspective but his own. Dr. Maruki is a horrible therapist and a worse researcher. But that's not the point. The point is that he ascends to a weird sort of godhood to grant people's wishes. This is where the game elevates itself from pretty good to fucking excellent. He wants to heal everyone, and grants anyone's wish, no matter what it is.

You see a teacher of yours undergo a drastic change from grumpy asshole to friendly and kind. By someone else's wish. It's an insult, in a lot of ways, a different kind of complacency. Everyone is dependent on wishes to make life easy for themselves, and Maruki never seems to bother thinking about what these wishes he's granting might mean when they affect others.

One of your Confidants makes an argument about this relatively early on, that I always took as illogical, until Maruki became a god. She is hypocritical, but also was being manipulated, and besides, there's no point in judgement, only in action.

Once again, that's what the game is doing. The point is to get mad, to act, to do something to fix it instead of letting a shitty situation stagnate. Don't let anyone else dictate you, what you are, how you act, all of it. Don't ever allow complacency to get others hurt.

The point is to change, and force society to change with you.

Now let's fling ourselves to the other end of the spectrum. To a universe ending extreme.

Destiny 2: the Final Shape is the culmination of a decade of storytelling and a last, heartfelt hurrah to a story and a character that players fell in love with. The Witness is not a god, not quite. Powerful, horrifying, but not a god. Not worshipped, subconsciously or otherwise. It is, however, a villain. One obsessed with perfection.

Perfection is always a sticky thing, symbolic for a whole load of things. Here, the symbol doesn't matter, the act does. The Witness freezes everything in what it considers to be their perfect moment.

Well, is in the process of doing so, that's when you show up. To do so, you have to step into the Traveler, your god, or patron, or whatever. It's what granted you immortality, and your only constant companion. Your Ghost. That's something to talk about later, in a different post, how the game flips your perspective of your Ghost on its head.

The Witness uses the Traveler's power, the darkness and the light, the mental and the physical, and manifests a whole world in the Traveler. A world of perfect moments. Your first revival, the first time you make it to the Tower, the first god you ever killed.

It is an iconoclasm. "To step foot in the body of a god would be unquestionably to defile it." The Witness twists your everything, takes existence and bends it into unchanging, frozen, moments. It loathes you, because you are it's antithesis. Impermanence itself, your first life, your original self long forgotten, a constantly changing eternal.

For an immortal, you are remarkably fragile. It drives you into perpetual motion, makes you beautifully imperfect. Everything the Witness hates. Your god encourages growth, and never interferes directly. You exist for a purpose. Your god won't tell you what it is.

Of course it won't, the Traveler doesn't like to dictate you, that goes against its philosophy. Your existence is yours, it won't shove itself into a life that only belongs to you. Choice is valuable, precious. The Witness wants to rip it apart for its own purposes.

Another insult, putting the wishes of one over the many, making choices that only belong to the individuals. You rip apart its "perfection", bare the blood and guts, ugly interior built on one soul's desperate grasping for control. It buries its followers-turned-dissenters under itself, sucks them of their power and strips them of their individuality.

You sink your teeth into its throat, tear it's vocal chords out and destroy it, make an example of it, like you have done with its disciples before. Your freedom, your ability to change, your individuality, you've fought everything to keep it. And someone makes a sacrifice. For you.

But it was their choice. And that's why it matters. They chose that change for themselves, and knew how it would end. It's an honor, that their final death was for you.

For as many times as the change is no one's choice but your own, there are just as many where circumstance forces your hand. Let's talk about In Stars and Time.

In Stars and Time is a game that took me 47 hours to beat, and put me through one of the worst crushers I've ever dragged myself through. I loved it more than anything. There is a belief in this game built around the concept of change.

Change, and time, and their relation to each other. You play as Siffrin, a traveler from a country now forgotten, alongside a party on their way to face the King. The King is freezing Vaugarde, the country you're currently in, in time.

He is not a god, powerful but not divine. Barely even a threat by the end. But that's not where the danger lies, because he's not the only one messing around with time.

At the start of the game, you make a wish. You don't know the contents, not truly, but it will decide everything that happens next.

You miss a trap, and a giant boulder is dropped on your skull as your party watches.

You feel a tug on your stomach.

And you're back where you started. No one but you, and your faithful guide, Loop, remember. You repeat the same two days more times than you should, break your brain apart as you try to figure out why you're stuck in a time loop, all the while pretending nothing's wrong.

You memorize what your friends say, and soon enough you're following a script, only ever erring when it make actually be useful to figuring this out. You uncover things about yourself and your past, you change while everything stagnates.

At one point you meet the change god. It talks to your friend first, for so many reasons I will talk about somewhere else. Then, it looks to you.

You, the only one who still changes, who is still allowed to change. Center stage, under the spotlight, all eyes on you. It thinks itself the audience.

No, you are the center of an orrery, the celestial body in this loop from which all things orbit.

You change in the worst ways, tear yourself apart and drive yourself to mania for any chance at an escape. All it takes is a promise.

All it takes is the worst things you've ever said, the biggest deviation from the script you've ever done. All it takes is honesty. All you have to do is let yourself be loved.

You and the King are foils, driven by grief for a country forgotten, you force stagnation in the world around you. He changes by choice, makes himself gigantic and intimidating, chooses consciously to pluck away an entire country's freedom.

You lose an eye on instinct, wish to stay as nothing more than a desperate whisper, unconscious and drowning in your own forgetfulness.

The Universe leads, you can only follow. A three body problem. The King is a star fading, freezing, everything in its orbit loses speed, until the solar system grinds to a halt.

You are star going supernova, blinding, bursting, taking all that surrounds you with you.

But you change. The King changes. You have a family, they'll stay with you, they love you. You can move on. The King remembers, in his final moments. The last of your home frozen forever.

But he changed. He is gone and you remain, a three body problem solved. Changes made.

None of these happen in a vacuum, there are circumstances outside of both your control and your sight. A whole world to save. Let's talk about one in which there is nothing but you, a path, a cabin, the voices, and a princess.

You are on a path in the woods. At the end of this path is a cabin. In that cabin is a princess.

You are here to slay her.

If you don't, it will be the end of the world.

These are the opening lines of every route of Slay the Princess. It is a love story.

Like In Stars and Time, the gameplay is built on change. Try every dialogue option, find every ending, meet every version of the princess and hear every voice of your own.

No matter what you do, you finish your first route, and you find yourself in the long quiet. First, you must touch a mirror, see yourself, and say goodbye to the voices. They cannot follow you here. A thing sits where the cabin was, holding whatever version of the princess you dragged out. It thanks you. It asks for more. 5 is the minimum. Just five versions. Just five routes.

Everyone plays it a little differently, finds different routes, explores different dialogue. Everyone gets a different ending.

We're not here to talk about the ending, we're here to talk about you, the Shifting Mound (the thing in the long quiet), and the narrator.

The narrator is fragments, echoes of a man who made a choice for no one but himself under the guise of saving the world. Like Sisyphus cheating death. His punishment is you. You and your other half.

He trapped change itself, and split it in twain. Plucked you apart and forced you to slaughter each other for eternity, until finally one succeeds and "saves the world". He interferes, he forces your hand in the most literal sense, he denies and deflects and refuses to be honest. No matter what you choose, before the end, if you've brought the Shifting Mound 5 vessels, you will destroy the narrator.

He shatters, and he gives you answers. Sort of. You only have so manu questions before the shards of glass beneath you can no longer sustain him. It doesn't matter, because you get answers.

A fabricated prison, a separation, ill-fated desperation, and a selfish wish. A wish to get rid of change, in its entirety.

He didn't lie, freeing the princess will bring about the end of the world. But not at once. Just eventually. Because for change there must be destruction. Because motion will always, eventually, run out of energy.

Inertia, and all that. What you do next is your choice. That's the point, after all. You and the Shifting Mound are Change, and there are many ways this can go. Possibilities brought about by chance, by choice, by change.

Four stories, all about change, all about stagnation, all about the value of choice, or the lack of it. Maybe this will be meaningful for you. Maybe you'll scroll past it without a second thought.

That's the point. That's the value of change. That's why I wrote this.

[bugs1nmybrain]

L Lawliet x Bipolar! Reader Headcanons

I know I said Aizawa would get the next fic and he will, I've just been unmotivated lately because of my depressive episode and homework is kicking my ass. That fic is in my drafts right now and will be completed soon. For now, here's this.

I hardly find any content with characters and mentally ill readers, especially with characters who are considered emotionally strong, like L and Aizawa. I needed this and I hope it helps somebody else, too.

Warnings: Sfw, mentally ill reader, bipolar disorder (I'm type 1 so this may relate better to type 1 people, though I hope it can resonate with type 2 people as well), mania, depression, psychotic symptoms (hallucinations and delusions), medication, L monitors you via cameras and tracking devices, I used personal experiences when explaining reader's psychosis; it's interchangeable to whatever your unique delusions/hallucinations are.

Honestly, your diagnosis doesn't intimate L. While he hasn't exactly engrossed himself in mental health research, he's very knowledgeable in psychology

Your symptoms don't surprise him or make him uncomfortable, and he's actually well receptive of them.

Though admittedly he finds himself a little lost when you're in a manic episode. He's not freaked out, but getting a word out of edgewise with you is challenging. He follows along as best as he can.

Insomnia is something he's well acquainted with himself, so if you can't manage to sleep for a few days he'll be at your side. He'll definitely try to encourage you to take a sleep aid, but if you're stubborn he'll concede and just hang around to monitor you.

He's actually protective when you're in a heavy episode. Sure, he trusts that you have autonomy over yourself, but he also needs to make sure you're safe. So he'll track your whereabouts when you're gone and will sneak cameras into your residence so he can check up on you.

Even if you're good about keeping track of your medication, he'll occasionally make sure you have. Simple reminders like, "Have you taken your medication today, love?" If you're not with him in person he'll text you.

Honestly, because he's so analytical, sometimes he can't help but feel intrigued by your episodes. He knows that every person with bipolar disorder is different, and so paying attention to how your condition affects you, in particular, is interesting to him.

Depressive episodes are harder for him than manic ones, surprisingly. He wants to keep you engaged and present, but when you're stubbornly depressed it's hard for him to know what to do. He gets creative, often asking you to join him for sweets or go shopping. Anything to get you moving.

When you lie in bed all day, that arches him the most. As someone whose brain is always on the go, he's sure that you doing absolutely nothing but sulk has to be painful. Sometimes he'll come and lie beside you for a while and try to talk with you.

As strong and collected as L is, he's no stranger to depression and hyperactivity either. Maybe he's not bipolar, but he can relate to constantly being on the go. His depression only really comes about when he feels hopeless about an investigation. He understands being unmotivated when it seems like nothing is going your way.

Seeing you cry is when he becomes the most complacent. This is tricky for him, he's not used to such a strong emotional response. He doesn't really know what to do or how to make you feel better. He wants to cure it and even just tell you to not cry, but unfortunately, it's not as simple as that. He knows that.

The only thing he can really do is hold you, or just be in your presence if that makes you more comfortable. But admittedly, he is very uncomfortable when the waterworks come out. L isn't inept at reassuring support, but being emotionally competent isn't his expertise.

He'll offer you some sweets to make you feel better. He's trying.

L's very in tune with your early warning signs. He's usually the first one to predict if an episode is approaching. He's studied your behavior so well that even the slightest sign of symptoms is apparent to him. He'll conduct some proactive measures to help if he can, though he doesn't want to seem like your psychiatrist or anything. If you use substances, he'll encourage you to go easy with them. He'll also encourage a better sleep routine (funny, coming from him).

One thing about L that makes him an excellent support, is that he's not scared of your symptoms. He realizes that medication is only a management strategy for bipolar disorder, not a cure. He's not going to lecture you on upping your dose or make you ashamed of your symptoms. It doesn't have to be a bad thing if you can manage it. He's a busy guy, so there's only so much he can do, but he'll help.

His main strategy is distraction, and his other is communication. If you need to talk about your symptoms, or even just ramble while you're manic, he'll listen (mostly. Your manic rants can be overwhelming sometimes).

When you're getting especially excitable he'll try to ground you with an activity; chess, maybe. Something that requires your brain to slow down and become more methodical. For your depression, his go-to for you is physical activity, like tennis. The endorphins help cope with depression and can give you some rewarding feelings.

Psychosis is one that he wasn't prepared for. He knew it could be a symptom of bipolar disorder but wasn't aware of the intensity. So when you came to him nervously asking who was watching all the cameras and if he had sent international government organizations to kidnap you, he was confused.

Then you started telling him about how you were the only person who has ever existed and everybody else was an extension of yourself, and he started getting it.

Delusions are tricky for him because ultimately he can't change your mind, but he does want to make sure that he can ground you as much as he can.

The cameras are an issue. He puts them everywhere, but because they are a huge source of anxiety for psychosis, he has to figure out a way to monitor you but also not make you feel like you're in danger. He may even lie to you about there being no cameras but has actually put them in places you wouldn't expect them to be in. It's for your safety, he tells himself. If you're insistent that there are cameras everywhere even after his lying, he'll try to at least have you understand that the only one watching them is him and it's because he loves you and wants to make sure you're ok. That's the truth.

Hallucinations, he gets. He's even had them himself when he goes many many days without sleeping (also remember episode 25. And before y'all tell me that he lied about the "bells", I don't care and I could write a post about it but that's not what this is for). He's quick to notice you turning your head behind you, or when he's talking to you and you'll be looking beside his head. He'll ask questions about it.

His busy schedule can make this hard for him to balance, but trust that you are not a burden. He wouldn't still be here if you were. He loves you and just wants you to be safe.

[butch-bakugo]

Blocking terfs is such a healing experience. Like the only bad thing about terfs getting termed is that I no longer have them blocked but going through and blocking them knowing damn well 90% are white women just happy to erase womanhood they can't define like my own, rooted in my ancestors that valued women unlike their shitty white cultures, it's just... So healing. So reassuring as I see their constant racist and ableist comments, how they talk no differently than your average conservative evangelical.

I will happily ignore your "source" when you can accept that I don't subscribe to white American/European radical feminism that makes no room for intersex, autistic and cultural gendered women like me. Cutting your hair short is freeing for you and you may feel the pressure from white culture to keep it long but in my culture, long hair is freeing. Long hair is connections to my ancestors and the great spirit.

Terfs fail because they want women to participate in their form of feminism, however, their form of what should be "freeing" for women is white culturally centered. A woman is bad for shaving her legs even if she did it for sensory reasons. A woman is bad for wearing a hijab or other head scarf even if it's part of her religion. Women are bad for not having buzzed heads even if she finds comfort in her long hair. Women cannot look or act in ways they do not seem "feminist" enough. They want to control you regardless or else you're not a "real" woman, even if you were born one. You become a complacent woman who assists the rapists (all men) and then they think you should be killed with them.

The fact that terfs actively encourage fgm on intersex female leaning people because their clitorises "look too much like a penis and thus violates their form of lesbianism" is proof enough. Woman isn't a sex or identity to them, it's a belief system, one they add a million contingencies to. The amount of "gold star lesbian" terfs who call women who were victims of rape "dirty" for no longer being "untouched by a filthy penis" should be enough. They actively tell women to do what they want then, if what she wants is to shave or grow her hair out or marry a man or be a mother or anything they deem a trait of a woman THEY AND MYSOGNISTS made up as the "perfect submissive wife" they take away your agency and self determinism and call you brainwashed and delusional and a pick me. Terfs can't handle that women will make choices that feel good to them and those choices may align or unalign with their movement and still be HAPPY.

They genuinely believe that all women who do sex work are pushed into it by means or force. They genuinely believe no woman would wanna shave her legs if not for men. They genuinely believe that having a natural attraction to men is as a result of brainwashing. They don't think women are capable of both making a choice true to themselves without outside influence (the patriarchy) and making a choice that they believe dose not align with their constantly shifting self image of what a "freed female" looks like. You and conservative cishet men both have individual and highly specific images of what an ideal happy woman looks like and both of you will harass and insult and abuse any woman who does not fit that image.

The reason Intersectional and inclusive feminism works is because it allows women to do what they feel is best for them. I'm sorry but even if a woman only wants to shave her legs to look more attractive to the average cishet man, I'm not going to harass her or try to control her actions. I'm not gonna outlaw it or call her a bad feminist. I'm not gonna accuse her of being on "men's side" or claim she's been brainwashed. I'm gonna suggest to look into it and offer her the mindset to do what feels best to her. Terfs don't want you to at all because body hair is labeled as bad within white society and they think everyone believes in white society until terfs "open their eyes".

They think any woman who "gives in to society" is a failed one. They have endless contempt for bisexual women and call them "rapist's side kicks". They say anyone who says " hey, harassing a random woman because she wears make up and doesn't go bare faced is rude even if you think make up only exists to please men" is just reinforcing choice feminism and would become one of them if they only listend to them. I'm sorry but you don't know what choice feminism is.

A terf who calls you a pedo or rapist for being trans and a conservative who calls you a pedo or rapist for being trans may have come to their conclusion through "different paths" are still both spreading a hateful myth. A terf ripping off a hijab because she wants to "free her" and an evangelical ripping off a hijab because they hate brown people are still committing a hate crime and assaulting someone. Just because you took a lavender colored path full of performative art of uteruses and (misused) labryses and they took a red, white ans blue covered path full of crosses and gunfire in the distance doesn't change the fact you both committed the same crime for the same hateful reasons.

Look at this screenshot and TELL ME this sort of weird phrasing doesn't sound like something a crazy Facebook Catholic mom wouldn't say then remember that it was posted by a fucking terf. ( Of course, please also note that op is fucking white and "the club" usually refers to black owned clubs and bars. Of course toss in the fact that teen pregnancy for all women is treated violently but it's particularly considered "on brand" and trashy for young black girls and you can see the constant flecks of racism terfs try to claim isn't there.)

Don't even get me started on the fact terfs think young boys under 5 aren't capable of empathy, all male children will grow up to be rapists, male children under 16 are a threat to all women if they go to a shelter with their mother, etc. etc. Terfs litterally scream about male socialization yet constantly give men the unintentional excuse of "men are just naturally like that." Like you are literally spreading anti-feminist rhetoric but think it's fresh and new cause you say something slightly different afterwards.

Terfs aren't feminists, they are just cis white women who can't accept people can exist without their experiences and not be soldiers of the patriarchy. They can't accept that their perisexist towards intersex people who can't fit their theory of two sexes or completely ignore their existence. They can't even accept that poc won't completely abandon their cultures for their white idea of a freed woman because it's fundamentally racist to expect them to. They just hold up POC Americans or woc from oppressive cultures and pretend that's everyone's experience when it literally factually isn't. My culture didn't treat women that way and I identify with multiple of my cultures's genders, none of which were considered lesser than others within said culture.

They can't even accept that people can reinvent and change the meaning of something ancient like their heritagial religions or identities and redefine them in progressive and accepting ways. They litterally can't understand why someone wouldn't want their form of feminism that would be white washing them or forcing them to abandon their own fucking culture for "non-racial"(fundamentally built on white idenities, communities and negative social expectations) radical feminism. No, white terfs, I will not cut my hair to stick it to your white man enemy, I will grow it long to remain with my heritage your ancestors and now yourself, are trying to erase, coerse and destroy.

I will not get surgeries (litteral fgm) to make my naturally occurring intersex genitalia look more like your perisex female genitalia, shocking I know but vaginal variations can get that extreme naturally (more extreme than your performative collage of women who have one longer labia majora by a centimeter or have a slightly bigger by a millimeter clitoris.) and you harm us when you try to claim we "don't exist enough" for you to "fight for".

I did not change myself, abandon my dieing cultures and get surgeries to fit the white man's idea of womanhood, what the hell made you assume I would do it for yours?

[ilovescarletwitch]

Palpatine and the Jedi Order

I have recently had some midnight thoughts about Palpatine and his relationship to the Jedi Order. Mostly born from a fic that clearly states that Master Windu was always suspicious of Palpatine and his relationship with Anakin.

Now, I believe there were a lot of things wrong with the Order. There were a lot of ways they were cruel and insensitive to Anakin because they blindly followed traditions and convention and just didn't stop to apply actual compassion to his situation. They had allowed themselves to become complacent and dependent to the Senate and that limited their ability to help people and were all mostly okay with that. Their insistence on taking on only toddlers and raising to know no other life stinks of indoctrination. But they were not deliberately cruel and they wanted to do good, even if they fell short on occasion.

Anakin had been friends with the Chancellor since he was a small child. At that age it would have been easy for his caretakers to bar the friendship. A nine year old wouldn't go out on his own and befriend the most important man in the galaxy. So the friendship was allowed by the Order. It's alright for a single knight or two to privately think and later say that they would have done things differently. But not the Master of the Order or other Council members.

Because if they always suspected the Chancellor, then it's pretty unforgivable to me that they left a small child alone with him. They took Anakin in and had a duty of care and responsibility to protect. If they knowingly left him with a man they suspected was a predator or was seeking to gain something from Anakin, then there are some pretty terrible implications. Namely,they didn't care what happened to Anakin and decided the slave child that had been taught from birth to completely obey anyone with power over him was an acceptable price to pay to keep the Chancellor happy.

But I actually like the Jedi and want to see them get their shit together and help people. I like Master Windu too, don't actually think his relationship with Anakin is so terrible as others think. He made some colossal mistakes with regards to Anakin but that was mostly ignorance. He would never place young Anakin in the path of a predator. Same for the rest of the council and Obi-Wan.

So they must have trusted Palpatine with Anakin. And I feel that this is so interesting and also canon. Because the whole point of Palpatine is that he is an incredible manipulator. He convinces people he is good. He makes them trust him. He gives advice that will ruin them while making it sound reasonable and right and if the advice didn't work it's because everyone else is terrible.

So let's imagine the Council does trust Palpatine. He seems genuinely kind. He fights against corruption. He worked tirelessly to get Naboo the humanitarian aid they needed to rebuild after the end of the occupation. He made time to return to his homeworld and personally assist making a fairer treaty with the Gungans (personal headcanon because at this point it would be inevitable so he must look supportive and ruin it at a later point).

Let's also imagine that Palpatine was also a councillor. Yes, that's right. The Palpatine in my head studied psychology. He understands people so well, knows just how to manipulate them. He must have learned from somewhere. Meanwhile, the Jedi are struggling with Anakin. They have never had a youngling like that. So this really nice guy, who has studied psychology and even worked as a councillor for a small amount of time, is offering to help. Naboo has a tradition of people entering politics and activism from too early, so these sort of mentoring relationships are common. And Anakin did help his planet not just by destroying a ship but by offering Padme help when he himself was in a desperate situation. So Palpatine feels obligated to offer help to the small child who is now struggling. And so the Jedi council gives it a shot.

And Palpatine is careful. He first builds an emotional rapport with Anakin and then slowly fans Anakin's doupts, self worth and self loathing issues and his feelings of isolation. But for the first few meetings Palpatine lends a judgement free ear and Anakin looks better when he returns. So the Jedi decide this has the dual benefit of both helping Anakin and building good relations with the Chancellor and approve the friendship.

[entomolog-t]

G/t tropes/blurbs/aspects: There’s so many good ones! The first encounter filled with wonder and fear. The gentle protection of a caring giant. But my favorite? Trust. The trust building from both sides. Trusting your giant friend to care about you and letting yourself be seen by someone who you feel like doesn’t need to. Trusting the tiny to come back and keep their word, while being completely in power but letting them have control. Even when that trust breaks, and they both try their best to fix it despite everything cause they want to trust the other; it’s just going to be a bit harder this time. Just Trust in G/t is huge. I love it slowly building up through interactions where one side might be nervous or one side might be WAYY too excited or it’s seen as unsafe to even try. Do what you will with this and be a Psychologist! I don’t mind :P

Okay, lets get another one!

First encounters are one of my favorite tropes as well. The feelings are so much more raw.

Trust is a powerful human emotion, which normally relies on essentially a bank of actions and observations as well as a few leaps of faith. In a G/t context, it acts as a very concentrated form of building trust. The stakes are much higher, and the gestures must be much more grand in order to cover a fraction of the ground. Small slip ups from the giant can result in a massive loss of trust from the tiny.

The archetype of the tiny often represents a desire to be vulnerable and to have that vulnerability respected.

In your example, it seems like the Giant has an important task of suppressing ones own wants and desires as a sacrifice to garner trust. Controlling one's impulses and having faith the tiny will see that action as enough to offer their own olive branch.

This could indicate a personal need for clear consent and personal boundaries, as well as a yearning to be vulnerable with those able to respect those boundaries. It also seems to suggest you want others to have faith in you in some form or another. The olive branch extended by the giant of simply respecting the autonomy of another being is not a large one if you actually do view the being as your equal, so the act of returning especially in the first meeting as mentioned prior, is a huge act of trust by the tiny, and takes a great deal of both faith and acceptance by the giant.

The act of letting the tiny go is a symbolic exchange of power. The Giant can enact their will if they so choose, but by offering their own power and trust as a sacrifice to the tiny, they hope to gain their trust in return. However it is only when it is a genuine sacrifice does this trope normally take place. The giant must be aware the tiny is not likely to return, or at the very least is not trying to guilt the tiny to return. They have left the proverbial ball in their court, no strings attached.

You specifically mention trust breaking and being mended, which harkens to a mature understanding of growth and knowledge that mistakes happen. The care to continually rebuild trust is generally symbolic of one's desire to be valued; To be worth the effort and the maintenance. This may suggest you don't like your personal relationships to become complacent, and you attribute aspects of your own personal value in the actions others take to show the care and respect you.

I wouldn't be surprised if you mirror this in your own friendships and relationships as well, showing that you care through specific and repetitive actions.

Some of your word choice also implies yearning for intrinsic value. Having the relationship be difficult but both parties work hard at it, being deeply nervous or overly excited, as well as it being seen as unsafe. All signs point to no, but something deeper says yes. A search for purpose, or fate, or a connection that defies logic.

A good exercise would be to further analyze the acts that build the trust and dissect how those may apply to you. Example;

Giant does not initially touch the tiny, - why does this appeal? Perhaps individuals don't respect your autonomy so the thought of someone who has no need to respect it bowing to your will fills you with a feeling of power and being cared for and respected.

-----

Oh, look at that, thats all our time for this session. My secretary has your payment information and an automated bill will be deducted from your account in 3-5 business days.

[lepoppeta]

Jatlas theme song and thoughts?

*gargles*

I have so many angsty thoughts and songs about these two, but the unfortunate reality is that a lot of the songs I end up choosing for them (and others) tend to fit within a narrative rather than just being... for lack of a better phrase, 'character themes'? They don't stand on their own is what I'm trying to say.

I want to be able to talk about them without giving too much away, but they're also the only songs I have to offer. I've never been one to really care about spoilers (I find that knowing that something objectively happens doesn't lessen the emotional weight of experiencing it). This will be more like me describing various plot points in the AU by way of song, so... I guess spoilers for the Musicalshock AU below...?

(Oh God, this is so long...)

*pulls up the playlist* I guess I'll just go down the list...

THE OTHER SIDE - Hugh Jackman, Zac Efron

Now is this really how you like to spend your days? Whiskey and misery and parties and plays? (If I were mixed up with you I'd be the talk of the town Disgraced and disowned; another one of the clowns)

But you would finally live a little; finally laugh a little Just let me give you the freedom to dream And it could wake you up and cure your aching Take your walls and start them breaking Now that's a deal that seems worth taking

But I guess I'll leave that up to you...

Atlas propositions Jack because he knows that, if he cares even a little bit, it would royally piss Andrew Ryan off (surprise surprise, Andrew Ryan probably doesn't give a rat's arse). There's a glimmer of something more intriguing here, causing Atlas to wonder if Jack's deeper than his apathetic rich-boy facade lets on.

Jack isn't an idiot, by any means. He knows that this would be a terrible idea, but Atlas is silver-tongue and pushes all of the right buttons, and Jack really is very lonely.

BAD HABITS - Ed Sheeran

Every time you come around you know I can't say no Every time the sun goes down I let you take control I can feel the paradise before my world implodes And tonight had something wonderful

(...)

Every pure intention ends when the good times start Falling over everything to reach the first time's spark It started under neon lights and then it all got dark We only know when we've gone too far

Jack placates himself for his choices by calling Atlas a 'bad habit' (something he brings up later just to be spiteful) -- really, what aristocrat doesn't have a few vices here and there? He's so dissatisfied with his own decisions that he's more than happy to let Atlas call the shots.

THE WORD OF YOUR BODY (REPRISE) - Johnathan B. Wright, Gideon Glick

Oh, I'm gonna be wounded Oh, I'm gonna be your wound

Oh, I'm gonna bruise you Oh, you're gonna be my bruise

Foreshadowing! This is the point when Atlas realises he may be falling a little in love with this guy, and Jack wants whatever affection he can get because this is the first person outside of his own late mother that even pretends to care about him beyond fiscal gain or influence.

I KNOW THOSE EYES / THIS MAN IS DEAD - Thomas Borchert, Brandi Burkhardt

There in that voice, traces of you (I am a ghost, just a mirage, Who chases traces of you) Dark and familiar and deep as the sea I know those eyes, torturing me (This man is dead, he is no more And though it's torturing me) Can either of us really ever be free?

How can you stand there a whisper from me? When you are still so far away? And why does the truth seem too hard to be true? With so much broken (And so much damaged) There are no words (Left to say)

This is a duet, certainly, but it's actually before Jack gets his memories back. In my imagination, the brainwashing process wasn't totally foolproof, and it was proven that Jack would ultimately be more complacent if he was listening to someone his brain at least thought sounded familiar. Cue Fontaine imitating Atlas' voice.

Fontaine is both hinting that he isn't who Jack thinks he is, but is also someone who Jack betrayed. And in a horrible manipulative way, he's right: Fontaine lied that Atlas had been executed in Persephone in order for Jack to become more cooperative (and also because he's a bit petty) and Jack just... gave up.

ELSA'S SONG - The Amazing Devil

Your voice it carries over The hubbub and the hum And it paints the sky and circles high Like the beating of a drum And you'll scream 'I won't forget you' But I'll cover my cold ears It cannot be a lie If no-one hears

(...)

And although you say 'good day' to me I know I don't belong And although you hold my hand and say 'I love you', you are wrong Because love does not exist here In this garden, there's no feeling And you say the words so often That I barely know the meaning

(...)

And in years to come you'll wander To the place upon our hill And then you'll cry to our painted sky 'I loved him then, I love him still' And you'll strew some sage and lilies And roses where I rot Of all the flowers you picked I knew you would forget forget-me-nots

This is meant to describe the instant where Jack reunites with Atlas after her regains his memories and Atlas has found his way out of Persephone back into Rapture at large. At this point, Jack believes that Atlas is long dead (supposedly murdered by Fontaine so that Jack would be more complicit to his brainwashing) and is fully committed to grieving his passing. Cue Atlas being alive and... not well, but as well as one can be given the circumstances.

Now, you have to understand that neither of these people are perfect, or even wholly good. Both of them have made mistakes and will continue to make mistakes. They are both selfish to a degree and deal with that feeling a lot.

Jack is relieved, obviously, but he's also understandably upset and incredibly, selfishly angry -- angry for being robbed of the chance to grieve after he thought he'd finally been given the chance to get his emotions under control; (unfairly) angry because Atlas didn't live up to his cocksure personality and didn't escape prison much earlier and rescue Jack from Fontaine's clutches; angry because he knows he can't just leave Atlas behind, but now he's got to find a way for him to fit into his new family and priorities.

ACHILLES COME DOWN - Gang of Youths

Achilles, Achilles, Achilles come down Won't you get up off, get up off the roof? The self is not so weightless, nor whole and unbroken Remember the pact of our youth Where you go, I'm going, so jump and I'm jumping Since there is no me without you Soldier on Achilles, Achilles come down Won't you get up off, get up off the roof

(...)

(You want the acclaim, the mother of mothers) It's not worth it Achilles (More poignant than fame, or the taste of another) Don't listen Achilles (Be real and just jump you dense motherfucker) You're worth more Achilles (You will not be more than a rat in the gutter) So much more than a rat

(You want my opinion; my opinion you've got) No-one asked your opinion (You asked for my counsel, I gave you my thoughts) No-one asked for your thoughts Be done with this now, and jump off the roof Can you hear me Achilles? I'm talking to you Now we flip to Atlas' point of view.

Originally this scene is Atlas talking down Jack from literally shooting him on the spot, since Fontaine used a mimicry of Atlas' voice to guide Jack around Rapture and do his bidding. Jack is conflicted because he remembers Atlas' face now, certainly, but the voice...

The second voice in the song is meant to be Fontaine in the back of Jack's mind, taunting him and really just being a complete Debbie Downer of a disembodied voice.

TRUST ME NOT (HERO AND VILLAIN DUET) - Backseat Vagabond

You are not my hero You don't know how it felt What else could I have done with All the cards that I was dealt?

(You are not the villain You once held my hand) Stand up, get out Sometimes things don't go as planned

Emotional climax song! This would be the equivalent of their major argument; all of their pent-up feelings explode to the surface.

Atlas is betrayed and hurt that Jack would give up on him so easily and would so quickly create a life and family for himself that Atlas isn't sure he wants or fits into, but he knows that Jack isn't entirely happy with him not being in the picture, and he wouldn't be either. Damnit, he loves him, and he doesn't really care much how or why.

Jack is irritated that Atlas keeps pushing this idea, and he also finally admits to having an nearly sub-terranean opinion of himself. He is Rapture's Prince -- he could have had enough influence to maybe change things for the better before they got bad, and yet he threw that away for a juvenile fling. Now he's got five little girls to take care of, and he has the audacity to call himself their father, when his silence could have prevented their parents being killed.

SONGBIRDS - Ben Thornwill

Twenty-seven years To find you Will that be twenty-seven watsed years If we don't see this through? Like songbirds in the city air I'm not gonna make it and I do care But it hurts too much And I worry that it's gonna get too hard And if I'm not what you need I promise I'll play the part

This is meant to be the make-up song after the emotional climax; a clarifying breath. The scene in a musical sense is a bit literal -- while they're both wandering around Fort Frolic, Jack finds a piano and starts absently playing.

Jack wants Atlas back in his life so very badly (because he selfishly but so humanly wants to be loved and caressed and kissed and wrecked and cherished), but he's scared to death to even try. He's afraid that they're both not willing to accept each other's changes (and traumas) and instead want things to go back to the way they were before the fall of Rapture, when they were stupid and not even sure what they were to each other yet; he's afraid that Atlas won't want to the commit to fitting into Jack's new life; he's afraid he alone won't be enough to get Atlas to even try.

[kirkwall-age]

#in the end of the conversation you can kinda wish howe luck in his future endeavors and last time I played cousland I did just that#and I found his reaction SO INTERESTING because obv I know what he's planning but he is caught so off-guard by cousland saying that#I wonder what the VA directions were for that line... (via @cantbearsedto)

I am happy to report that that whole conversation where you talk to him 1v1 is equally thorough and paranoid.

You can ask him 3 questions or wish him well, and I buried the lede at the bottom because every part of that conversation is equally as fascinating to me, personally:

If asked about the Orlesian War:

Howe: We fought together under King Maric, when he drove the Orlesians out of Ferelden.

Forceful. This was the best time in his life.

Howe: Heady times. The years since have not held the same promise.

Switching from nostalgia to a little bitter. "Time takes me farther from glory. I'm getting a little tired of that."

Howe: It's not something a youth would understand. It will be good to ride beside your father again.

Very small hint of resentment on "beside". Like he's been slightly below since losing favor of the old king. "The new campaign offers a chance at lost glory."

Howe: Your father hasn't spoken of our time with him? That man took care of his friends. As they say, he was large as life and twice as tall! (Laughs)

Genuine fondness. "Your father doesn't long for that time like I do. *That* king let me ride his coattails, and I loved it."

If asked a follow-up question about Thomas/Delilah:

Howe: The topic has come up from time to time. The young and their infatuations.

Vague dismissal with a wave of a hand. "I raised the topic to distract you and curry favor. I wasn't expecting to seriously explain it."

Howe: To be honest, I have no expectations. And your father seems determined to let you find your own way.

Honest disapproval under proper noble discourse/disguise. "If I give real thought to you dating my child, I disapprove. I don't like how you were raised."

Howe: If something did happen… well, we'd address it as befits a family of our stature.

Dismissive. Knowing that "Something *won't* happen. And you don't know it, but the statue of *my* family is about to change for the better."

If asked about the delay of his troops:

Howe: Poor weather, I believe. Their progress has been slow, but it's nothing you need worry about.

Vague dismissal. "They are delayed by an excuse I'd rather not get into."

Cousland: You told my father the delay was your fault. Howe: In a manner of speaking. If I had reinforced our border levies earlier, my troops could have left before the rains.

A little impatient. The player is asking too many specific questions. He is unsure of your motives. "My story is solid and well-rehearsed but your questions are making me suspicious."

Howe: I confess, my confidence in your father allowed me some complacency. I guess that makes it as much his fault.

Turning suspicion into praise to redirect. "Anything unusual is only because your father is so great. Let's all laugh about it!"

AND FINALLY. If Cousland says: "I just want to wish you well, Arl Howe."

Howe: I… thank you. That is… quite unnecessary.

Unused to unmotivated well-wishing. "I only praise when it gets me something. So I'm suspicious of others who praise me out of the blue."

Honestly. What a villain. What a guy.

exploring Origins Toolset (a gift that keeps on giving) and the V.A. directions for Arl Howe are FASCINATING. he has a secondary thought appended to every line of dialogue during the opening scene of Human Noble Origin -- and the insight into his psyche is somehow even more fucked-up than I thought

Bryce: I'm sorry pup; I didn't see you there. Howe, you remember my daughter? Howe: I see she's become a lovely young woman. Pleased to see you again, my dear.

Friendly, but hollow. "Here's the necessary exchange of pleasantries nobles must go through. I'm kind of preoccuppied with making sure your father is on track for my secret plan."

Cousland: Is your family here, Arl Howe? Howe: Oh no, I left them in Amaranthine, well away from the fighting in the south. They do send their best wishes.

Distracted. "I left them well out of harm's way. Though I don't want you to know harm is coming."

Howe: My son Thomas asked after you. Perhaps I should bring him with me next time.

Gauging the player's reaction. "My son wants to marry you. I don't approve, but mentioning it may get you to trust me."

Cousland (version 1): To what end? Howe: Ha! "To what end", she says! So glib, too. She's just like her mother when she talks like that.

Friendly, slightly menacing undertone. "You don't fool me, girl. You're playing dumb, but you're smarter than your reply suggests. I won't underestimate anyone in your family."

Cousland (version 2): ...Thomas is a few years younger than I am. Howe: As you get older, those years make less difference. A lesson often hard won.

Elsewhere. "It doesn't matter how old you are. You won't be getting any older."

THIS IS CRAZY. THIS IS A CRAZY THING TO SAY. OR THINK SECRETLY AS YOU'RE EXCHANGING PLEASANTRIES

[the-defiant-fluffball]

Let me tell you a tale of International Women's Day and how it's celebrated in different places. I'm not a big expert or anything, I'm just privileged enough to have lived abroad and to have many close friends from other countries.

What I'm used to is the way of former socialism. March 8th is a relatively big thing - women get acknowledged, we get flowers (not just from the men in our lives but like, you might get one if you walk down the city centre, courtesy of the local government), we get little gifts at work. The women of my family, which is all of my family minus like 3 people, get together for a dessert and a chat about feminism, but we're considered pretty radical. It's generally a tame holiday. Men get their own day shortly after - the martyrs' day - but we never had that growing up, and it's not a day that's taken very seriously. To me, it's kinda rural and churchy, and it very much feels like 'but why don't i get anything and you do??'. Minor celebrities will go on TV and talk about how they're not feminists, but.

Women's rights were written into the Yugislavian constitution in 1946, and abortion was constitutionalised in the 1970s. The current constitution of my country gives me the right to freely decide whether I want to bear children or not. It's been this way my whole life.

*

In the UK, I didn't notice IWD being a thing at all. No gifts in the workplace, no flowers on the street, not even sales (which are a thing where I live because everything is an excuse to have a sale).

UK had one of the most well-known women's suffrage movements that started in the 19th century. Women have had voting rights since the early 20th century, and abortion has been lawful (but is not constitutionalized from what I can tell) since 1967.

*

When I was in Mexico, I was impressed by the feminist movement. They seem to be ever-present, loud, and not afraid of a proper protest. IWD is a day of protest, too, and of wearing purple in support of the movement. I've also seen info about March 9th being a strike day, with women removing themselves from society (incl. work, school etc.). I've had a friend reach out with a very different message than what I'm used to here. It was a careful but supportive one, acknowledging the struggle and offering support. When we talked about it, he told me: 'all of my girl friends back home are feminists. borderline radical ones.' and I told him, that's how it should be. But the difference between our complacency and their activism is notable, and as much as I love that spirit, I wish it wasn't born out of necessity. I wish they could afford to be a bit complacent as well.

Mexico is apparently one of the 20 worst countries for women. The rape and femicide statiatics are atrocious. Women got the right to vote in 1953, and abortion was only decriminalized in 2021. From what I can tell, women still get prosecuted for miscarrying (and, as usual, the more indigenous you are, the more likely they are to go after you).

So. This IWD, and all following ones, I wish all of us complacent feminists a bit of an edge and rebelious spirit to keep on fighting the good fight. There's so much left to do. And to all of our sisters globally who can't afford to not be radical, I wish good luck and safety, and that you also get the opportunity to be a little complacent soon.

[sereia1313]

Discord Drabble Nights November 2021

Banner by the wonderful @yumanichan.

Also available on Ao3, Dokuga and FFnet.

Summary: A gathering of friends leads to unexpected discoveries

Cornucopia

It had been a last-minute thing.

Kagome ran around in a tizzy, trying desperately to make sure everything was perfect—as perfect as a large gathering could be in the feudal era, anyway.

The table was set, the fire roaring, and the cornucopia of offerings ready to be served.

All that was needed were the guests.

She checked herself in the mirror one last time, enjoying how the deep hue of her kimono made her eyes stand out in her reflection. Shippou had helped with her hair, his tiny claws strangely nimble when it came to intricate up-dos.

The night would be a success—one way or another.

Tradition

Dinner was meant to be a quiet affair, but Kagome was never one for tradition.

She preferred everyone chatting and sharing stories to the stilted and forced pleasantries that were expected.

Everyone chose their own seats, finding places next to those they wished to converse with, and it wasn't until everyone was settled that Kagome realized the only place left for her was in between Inuyasha and—

"Oi, who invited you, ya bastard?"

Not wishing to wreck all her hard work by sending her best friend crashing into the table, she settled with yanking hard on his ear.

"Behave! Sesshoumaru is family too."

Herbs

Grumbling under his breath, Inuyasha glared at his brother over her shoulder, then turned away, pulled into Miroku's current—and completely fabricated—story about their latest demon encounter.

Kagome shook her head in exasperation, then seated herself beside the Western Lord, giving him a sheepish smile.

"I wish I'd known you were coming. Do you want me to find something fresher?" She grimaced as she looked at the array of thoroughly cooked meat. "Maybe something with fewer herbs—"

"Do not distress yourself on my account, miko. What has been provided will do."

"But—"

"Your concern is appreciated, though."

Cranberries

The firelight must've been playing tricks on her, as she could've sworn Sesshoumaru had just smiled at her.

Shaking her head, she watched those she cared about set aside their squabbles to enjoy the night.

Well, almost everyone.

Inuyasha kept shooting daggers at his brother until Kagome finally grabbed some berries off the table and hit him square between the eyes.

"Ouch! What was that for?"

"I told you to behave! That includes facial expressions!"

"Keh!"

She turned to apologize again to find Sesshoumaru holding a berry between his claws.

"These are poisonous."

Kagome giggled softly. "I know. But cranberries don't grow in Japan, so I had to improvise. They're just for decoration."

Archery

A pale eyebrow raised before he placed the berry back on the table.

"It seems you have been practicing. Your aim with drupelets is almost as accurate as your archery."

Kagome felt her face get hot.

How did he know that?

She tried to play it off, not meeting his gaze. "I've had a lot more free time now that Naraku's gone."

"Perhaps you require a new purpose to occupy your day."

"Who says I want anything to occupy my day? I spent an entire year looking for shards, then another three dealing with high school before I could come back here. I'm really for a break!"

Blessing

"Negligence will lead to complacency, miko."

Incensed, Kagome forgot who she was speaking to and poked him in the chest. "I don't need to hear that from you. I shot your armour off back when I could barely hold a bow."

His lips pulled back into a smirk, fangs flashing. "And what a blessing that was."

Her mouth dropped open.

Sesshoumaru, Lord of the West, the Killing Perfection, is not flirting with me.

Their proximity was suddenly too much, and she scooted backwards, feeling the backs of her ears heat again.

"You say that like it was a good thing."

Second Chances

Golden eyes lingered before glancing towards the fire.

"Indeed."

Her tongue felt thick, unable to form words even as questions threatened to overflow.

She'd always wondered about that day too.

Why she'd been able to hit him.

If she'd been more than a passing thought once his armour had been repaired.

Second chances could happen, right? They'd both grown and evolved since their first meeting.

The absence of said armour caught her eye, and she smiled again.

"It's nice that you can relax once in a while too." Motioning to his chest and shoulder when confusion pinched his brow.

Laughter

"No one can be on guard all the time." He looked behind her, then leaned in. "Especially when it causes my brother so much ire."

Kagome covered her mouth to stifle her laughter, Inuyasha's glare already burning the back of her head.

"Trust you to see it that way."

Claws reached out, snagging a lock of hair that had come loose from her elegant braid.

"I am glad you are able to show such joy as well. Especially in the present company."

Kagome felt her heart stop as he brought her hair to his lips, his golden gaze holding her captive.

Friendship

The expression on his face was not one of friendship.

The fire continued to blaze in the distance, but it was nothing compared to the heated gaze currently focused on her.

"Oi, K'gome! Stop wasting yer time with the emotionless bastard. You said the whole point of tonight was to have fun!"

Sesshoumaru's eyes iced over, his mask sliding back into place, and Kagome felt a pang in her chest.

She went to pull away, but he tugged on her hair, bringing their cheeks together as his lips brushed against her ear.

"Perhaps we can create our own fun later. Kagome."

Memories

Blue eyes widened as skin turned crimson.

Much to the chagrin of her friends.

The string of curses that exploded out of Inuyasha's mouth was smothered, the hanyou struggling against the grip of someone. Kagome wasn't sure, her attention still locked on silver hair and magenta stripes.

Memories of blindly following Inuyasha during their search for the Shikon shards flashed through her mind.

She'd been lured by the promise of a happy ending—the possibility of forever.

Forever now shone back at her from the eyes of a lethal daiyoukai.

Maybe she'd been preoccupied with more than just tonight's dinner preparations.

Family

After making sure everyone had been fed—and placating Inuyasha—Kagome found herself wandering to the edge of the forest, the smells of spices and roasted meat giving way to fresh air and pine.

Youki teased her senses, sliding up her back like a caress.

She stepped up to meet him, Sesshoumaru's pale silks glowing in the moonlight.

"Did my brother give you any more strife?"

Kagome chuckled and shrugged. "Family is supposed to do that. It's kind of in the job description."

"Hnn." He considered her for a moment, the heated glow returning to his eyes. "What are your expectations for tonight, miko?"

Biting her lip as her cheeks darkened again, Kagome shrugged once more. "I'm not sure. A walk could be nice though."

The harsh lines of his face softened, then he offered his hand—his claws seeming less dangerous when they weren't dripping with poison.

Accepting the invitation, Kagome allowed Sesshoumaru to lead her deeper in the forest.

And onto a new path.

[broadwaytheanimatedseries]

Once Upon A Time, In A Far Away Land... - AU:

The legend says that King Raymond, then still a Prince and an adventurer, went to find the terrible threat known as the dragon witch, that has been rumored to have hurt innocent people and was the cause of great distress for a long time. What he found was a lovely, beautiful woman with charm and wit and a heart of gold, who's reputation had been tainted by those who tried to steal from her and payed the price when she defended herself.

It was then and there that the king decided he would do anything to make her happy.

Many years later, and the two married and had a family together. Three beautiful boys. Two of them ordinary looking twins, and the younger one seemingly half dragon and half human.

Now of course not everyone in the kingdom was immediately on board with their new queen, not did they all approve of the princes, especially the young one. But eventually, most of them came around, or at the very least knew better than to voice their negative opinions.

The years pass and the children grow up. Roman and Remus learn magic and swordsmanship, both being more talented in the latter, and they go on lots of adventures, both together and separately.

while Drake learns all that and more, doing his best to perfect all his skills but being especially talented in magic. he wants to be able to always have the right answers, to never be caught unprepared.

Unfortunately, he is caught very unprepared.

One day, while adventuring in a part of the woods rumored to be overtaken by the misfits and rebels of the kingdom, Roman and Remus are caught in one of their traps.

"well well well, a couple of trespassers." A hooded figure teased, eyes lighting up in amusement.

"those are no ordinary trespassers! It seems we're in the company of royalty!" Replied a man with glasses who didn't seem that mean compared to the hooded figure.

"Vee did good job with those traps, I gotta hand it to him." Said the woman among them, sounding pleasantly surprised.

The twins were too weak from their previous fight to do much, and they could only stare angrily as they waited for one of the rebels to speak.

Finally, the woman gave an order.

"R, Em, escort our guests. I'll go tell boss the wonderful news."

Hours later, as Drake was pacing in his room and his parents were sitting in the throne room patiently waiting for news on the whereabouts of their sons, all knowing it isn't like them to disappear for this long without giving a proper warning.

Finally, a message came, from the leader of the forest dwellers.

"if you wish to see your sons, there are matters to discuss. I will come to the forest's entrance every night for the next three days. Send a representative, they must come alone. We shall see if we can come to an agreement that's favorable for both sides. Should you fail to accept this offer, we will have no choice but to keep the princes as our prisoners. Their transgressions can not go unpunished, but perhaps theit unfortunate mistake can bring about a new era, for all those who deserve a better life.

Sincerely, P. Sanders"

Drake couldn't sleep that night, knowing that his parents had no intention listening to the rebels' wishes. He couldn't help but worry what his life would be like without his brothers. He didn't like the idea of it, not one bit.

So that night, after tossing and turning in his bed for hours, he decided to do something he never thought he'd do in his life.

He snuck out of the castle to disobey his parents.

He went to the entrance of the forest to speak to the leader of the rebels. The man he saw before him, however, was not at all what he expected.

Patton Sanders has been fighting ever since he could remember himself. He was hardly the first rebel to find shelter in these woods, but with all the elders that had raised him having passed away, he became the new leader. It wasn't an easy job, but it was rewarding, and someone has to do it. He couldn't let all these poor people go without any help, not when he knew from personal experience how hard it was to survive in the kingdom for anyone who couldn't be born or marry into nobility, and who couldn't fit into whatever narrow path was set up for them.

So to see that the king and queen sent their youngest son to negotiate was... puzzling, to say the least. After all, you'd think at least one of them would want to show up to discuss a way to get their sons back.

But when he saw the prince's nervous body language, he suspected he knew what was really going on.

"greetings, Mr Sanders." the young prince gave a small bow.

~at least he cares enough to show up and be formal about it.~ Patton thinks and decides that he can allow himself to be a little nice.

"please, Mr Sanders was my father. You can just call me Patton, your highness."

"oh, alright. Well then I suppose you can address me as Drake, if you wish."

There was a moment of uneasy silence before Drake decided he'll cut to the point.

"so what is it that you want in exchange for my brothers' safe return?"

"simply put? Justice."

Drake raised an eyebrow, not in judgement or mockery but in confusion. "I'm afraid you're going to have to be a bit more specific."

"why is it, you think, that generations of outcasts and misfits have sought shelter in these woods? Have you considered why we'd need to seek shelter from our own kingdom?"

Drake had a few ideas, but by the look on his face they troubled him too much to express.

Patton sighed in sympathy and decided to say it himself, as he had many times before, to save the young prince (who actually was about Patton's age, although the leader looked older due to all that he's had to endure) the embarrassment.

"the kingdom is under attack from within itself. The rich and powerful are attacking the poor and helpless, by not extending to them the aid they need in order to just barely survive, let alone thrive as the nobles do. And your parents have been complacent, content to let the broken system that benefits them go on as it always had. All I want is equality. To be provided with what we need to survive and to be allowed to exist however we choose, be given the same freedom the nobles have that we had to escape from the kingdom into the forest to find. That is all the rebels have ever wanted, and it is all I ask."

Drake listens carefully, studying Patton's face for any deception or insincerity, and finds none. He sighs, tiredly, heavily.

"you know my parents didn't send me, don't you?"

"I figured as much, yes."

"so you understand this is gonna be hell on earth for me, trying to accomplish what you're asking of me, against their wishes, right?"

"indeed, but considering your choice of words, it sounds to me like you've already joined the cause."

"...unfortunately, yes." Drake couldn't help but agree. He knew it was dangerous, and would take expert planning, and would be downright impossible to achieve, but besides the fact that it was the only way to get his brothers back without starting an unnecessary war with the peaceful forest dwellers, it was also the right thing to do. And besides, Patton was very cute- convincing! Drake had meant convincing, he insisted to himself, unconvincingly. Yes the irony of that is not lost on him.

Meanwhile, At the rebels' campsite, the twin princes were surprised to find that aside from the occasional jab or tease, they were being treated rather respectfully. Sure their hands were tied to ensure they couldn't escape but they were treated more like guests rather than prisoners. In fact, they were treated like equals, which has never happened to them before. Their parents treated them like kids and, although they tried to be subtle about it, so did a lot of the older nobles, and everyone else treated them like royalty, which they were. But this was the first time they've ever had a normal conversation with people who saw them as equals.

Roman was a bit huffy at first, insisting he be treated with the respect worthy of a prince, only to be met with laughter and eye rolls. "there aren't any classes here, you're no better than anyone else. Better get used to it, Princey." said a figure standing completely in shadow, though his eyes almost glistened in the darkness, the fire reflecting off them. "let him whine, Vee. It's all he's got now." the woman he now knew as Valerie teased, and the only reason he let her get away with it is because she had bested him in combat earlier that day, when he made a daring escape attempt. Seeing as she proved herself a fierce warrior, she had his begrudging respect. But then he heard the shadowed figure chuckle in response, and the sound evoked many different emotions in him, so he decided to focus on annoyance and anger. "so, you're the Vee in charge of the cowardly contraption that ensnared my brother and I." Roman could see the eyes squint as they looked him up and down, and then a smug smirk spread across the shadow's face. "the very same. Pretty neat trick, isn't it?" "I don't know what you think is so impressive about a machine made by a man too weak and scared to best his enemies face to face." "it's efficient, and it takes a hell of a lot more wit and talent than waving a sword around like a reckless idiot." the shadow bit back, sounding very defensive. Roman would have been prouder to have gotten him riled up if it were for Valerie looking very mad at him for insulting who he now had to assume is a friend of hers. He really didn't wanna anger Valerie. "I wouldn't expect a ruffian like you to understand anything about the fine art of sword fighting." at that, the shadow growled. Well and fully growled, sending a shiver down Roman's spine, filling him with fear and... Well he was going to ignore that other feeling for now and hopefully it would go away. "okay, fuck this. Val, can you untie his hands?" Valerie's eyes went wide. "Vee, you don't have to-" "no, I want to. It's worth it to get this asshole to shut up and show some respect." Roman would have said something if he weren't intrigued by the conversation. "alright, but I don't like this." "no one's gonna get hurt. I promise." as Valerie untied his hands she glared at him. "what? How was I supposed to know he'd react this way? Also what the hell is going on?" "you'll see in a second, just don't see this as a chance to try escaping again or I'll personally knock you unconscious." "noted." as the bindings were fully removed from his hands and Valerie backed away, Vee stepped out of the shadows, allowing Roman to see him for the first time. This was already a very big problem for Roman, as he was not prepared for how hot the rebel was. To make matters worse, Roman wasn't done checking him out sizing him up, when Vee pulled a sword from where it was resting on his hip, and he held it directly at Roman's throat, just inches away from grazing his skin. And that really should not have made the blood rush to the direction it did for Roman, but his body just had the worst timing. Luckily, somehow, he still managed to focus on Vee's next words.

"you wanted to fight face to face? Fine. I, Virgil Fabre, challenge you to a duel."

And that is when Roman realized his big mistake. Well, too late to back out now.

"I accept your challenge."

Remus was ecstatic, though. He immediately started feeling more at ease and free to be himself. He didn't even mind being tied up all that much, and he made sure to get that point across with a bunch of inappropriate humor that made everyone uncomfortable. Well all except for the two men who brought them to the camp, and a third, much cuter nerd, resembling the rebel in glasses but seemingly more stoic, but even he was clearly smiling at one of Remus's crass jokes. Their eyes locked and the serious rebel blushed and turned back to resume his conversation with the men he now knew as Remy and Emile. Fuck. Finding a way to enjoy being kidnapped while waiting to be rescued or until he found a way to escape? That was one thing. But crushing on one of the rebels who was holding him prisoner? Remus would have to be a fool to act on these emotions. He glanced the other way to check on his brother and asked why he was sword fighting with one of the rebels. After being updated on what happened, he sighs heavily. Well you know what? If Roman was allowed to be stupid, and they were truly equals in this forest, then dang it Remus can do whatever Roman can do if he damn well pleases. With this new conviction, he boldly strutted over to the handsome nerd, only for Emile to give him a death glare that immediately makes him turn around.

But he's far from giving up. They all are.

Anyway thats it for this au, for now (;

Let me know what you think and as always -

Stay Tuned!

[rixxy8173571m3w1p3]

Sweater Weather

I enjoy the headcanon of Doofus Rick having a variety of sweaters. And after looking at stock photos, I was inspired to write this fic. Hope you guys like it.

In this fic Ricks sweater causes some conflict.

____________

In the great vastness of space, one could learn the true meaning of loneliness. For miles upon miles, floating upon nothing, you could say it was like sailing across the sea. Yet, unlike the salt or crashing waves of the ocean, you two would navigate across star systems or avoid asteroid fields, while at the same time enjoy the peace which comes from being somewhere uncongested. However, as fascinating as it was to go on intergalactic, space adventures, one of the things you didn't enjoy was the extreme temperature changes; most of the time, you'd stay in the ship or stay home if a planet's climate was too cold for your taste, but on this occasion, Rick needed an extra pair of hands when you two stopped on Mars after spending most of the day at the Jerryboree.

After Zeta-7 had traded a few items of his own to obtain what he came for at a reduced price, you two ran as fast as you could back towards the ship, but by the time the ship was out of the Martian orbit, you were chilled to the bone. Rubbing your arms, you shivered. "I wonder if I'll ever get used to this."

Your breath came out like a cloud of smoke and the cold that had seemed mild at first had numbed your face and extremities. Rick turned up the heat, as well as turned on the seat warmers and offered you a freeze-dried Phytonian branch worm, but you passed on the offer. You knew it would have warned you up straight away, but the last time you tried one of those things, you had a stomach ache for three days. Concerned, he placed the ship on autopilot and did his best to search around in the back seat for anything you could use to warm up, but then as though it struck him on the head he groaned. "Darn it, I-I forgot that I removed the spare blanket to wash it."

"Where is it now?"

"I-I left it in the dryer."

You thought of telling him that it wasn't his fault he forgot it since you had distracted him this morning with a video about ninja cats, but it wouldn't have helped the situation. "Ricky," you tried to ease him with a weak smile but your teeth chattered. "it's not a big deal. Besides, we're not that far from home."

However, he wasn't convinced. You weren't as experienced when it came to space travel, but you knew well enough of the possible dangers associated with extreme body temperature shifts. The chill you had spread deep into your bones until you thought you'd rattle if shaken; a lick of fear traveling down your spine but otherwise you didn't feel too bad. Nonetheless, Rick was concerned for your well-being, and knowing you two were hundreds of thousands of miles away from your dimension's version of Earth, he made a decisive decision and started removing articles of his own clothing. "Whoa, what are you doing?"

With a blush, he handed you not only his knitted Jerry sweater but also his labcoat; leaving him in a thin t-shirt which had a snoopy patch on the right shoulder; how cute. "I hope it'll s-suffice until we get home."

"But what about you? What are you going to wear?"

Flashing you a stern look which left little room for argument, you slipped on his sweater and lab coat, and was delighted to feel a little more like yourself and relaxed by its scent; it was his essence; that of vanilla, of his home, and something you couldn't quite think of; chemicals perhaps. "Hmm, your clothes are a lot more comfortable than I expected them to be. How um…..how do I look?"

Turning down the lights and switching back to manual, he nodded. "It suits you m-mi corazón."

You admired its softness and passed your hand over the tight, twisted knit. It was a lovely shade of light sage green, and had a picture of a smiling Jerry holding a titanic ship model; you thought it was sweet that it was a picture of his friend. So many things this man-made or owned had a purpose or a story; this piece was most likely made to brighten up the day that the Jerrys in his care were having. Your Rick really was a good man; better yet because he saw the value in regular folk who probably didn't see it in themselves. "I like your clothes, Rick," you commented; your heart warmed by his goodness. "they seem to carry bits of you in them."

"Th-that could be said about any piece of clothing that's been worn. They carry bits of our DNA." he stated matter of factly.

"Eh….that's... I mean I get that, but that's not where I was going with this. I meant that they're soft and warm like you Ricky. You enjoy dressing comfortably, don't you? You own a variety of sweaters."

"Wh-who doesn't? I've sort of been dressing th-the same way for the last twenty or so years but when I met you, I had more opportunities to dress up. However, the older I get, the more often I'm in need of something a-a bit warmer and gentler on my skin. Actually, some of my clothes are locked to my particular genetic signature so that they'll or adjust according to the weather or climate. That way, I'll have less t-to carry on certain excursions."

"Incredible, that'll certainly come in handy, but can I ask you something?"

"Y-yes?"

"I know you're focused on driving," you started, wondering if your assumptions were correct. "but is there a reason why you haven't looked me in the eyes since we left Mars, or am I just thinking too much?"

He visibly stiffened, but he still didn't face you. Rick seemed troubled, for he tightened his grip on the wheel. Maybe this hadn't been the best time to ask, but what else could you have done? If you didn't ask, how else would you have known? Still, if you had waited, you would've noticed the red light blinking on the control panel sooner. It was a caution light, but you weren't so concerned, but you should've been.

Rick had opened his mouth to answer, with a faraway look in his eyes, but in the blink of an eye he made a sharp left turn around some space junk; jostling you two as well as the cargo. That was another thing you hated about space was Earth's contribution to its pollution. Unknowingly, you two had deviated from the usual course by a few miles, leading you two into a dangerous situation. Whether it was the fault of his navigation equipment or his lack of focus you didn't know, but it took a couple of minutes of evading space junk before you two could breathe a sigh of relief. And at the first opportunity, he switched the ship back to autopilot. "I'm s-sorry about that. I'm usually a better driver." he started, scratching the back of his neck as he glanced out the window in search of an answer in the emptiness of space. You couldn't see anything except for a few stars and the Earth straight ahead, but you had a feeling that where he was looking was somewhere you couldn't see. When he was ready, he turned around in his seat to glance at you, but then quickly turned back to face the steering wheel. How odd. "T-t-to answer your question," he stammered. "y-you're not thinking too much. I've just been distracted."

"Oh, okay."

"Are y-you alright? Nothing hurts does it?"

"I mean, other than feeling wide awake now, no harm was done I guess, but what happened? It isn't like you to let your mind wander while we're out here. Rick, would you like me to take over the wheel so you can straighten out your thoughts?"

"No, it's not - I can do it. I got this."

"Are you sure?"

"Mhm, as long as I-I focus on the wheel."

He hadn't really answered your original question, but since you guys nearly avoided death, it probably wasn't a good time.

________

He parked the ship in his garage, and since it wasn't that late, you two walked over to your home. Rick hadn't said much since earlier, but you figured he'd let you know what was bothering him later. As soon as you crossed the threshold of your home, you started a pot of coffee for Rick to drink when it was ready. Then, you got a blanket from the closet and offered it to him just in case he was cold, but he didn't care for one. He was still in a mood, and you wondered if the reason you'd upset him was that you were still wearing his sweater. "You probably want this back right?"

Slipping out of his sweater and labcoat, you felt the temperature difference immediately and took up the blanket you had taken out and wrapped it around yourself. "Thanks for letting me borrow them. I'll be sure to pack something with me next time."

"I'm n-not sure if that's such a-a good idea." he said with seriousness.

"What do you mean?"

The lines around his eyes deepened, as well as the creases of his forehead, and there was a pensive cloudiness of his usually electric blues. Frustrated, he bit down on his lip almost hard enough to make it bleed. "B-because it's distracting."

"What?"

He continued. "I-I should've brought you home first or gotten the parts a different time."

"But I thought you wanted help." you sniffled.

"Y-you don't understand."

"What's there to understand?" you retorted; sinking into the couch as tears stung the back of your eyes, and threatened to come out. "You...you don't want me to help you anymore? I thought we were a team."

Your saddened state shifted his sour mood, and he apologized. "Gosh, please don't cry mi corazón, I-I didn't mean it."

"But you sai-"

"I'm not upset at you," he reassured you. "I'm disappointed in myself for allowing this to happen. I've become complacent and I-I should've been prepared. You could've gotten sick, hurt, or worse just because I got distracted. Next time I'll bring you your own sweater and snacks or whatever you want."

"Is it because you don't want me wearing yours? Did I ruin it or something?"

"No, it's because," he swallowed, unsure how to broach the subject. "cuando lo usas, es… es apretado."

What? You understood the part where he said you used it, but not the rest. Pulling out your phone from your pocket, you asked Google what all of that just meant, but the answer you got didn't help. "Rick, should I be offended?"

"I-I hope not. I promise it's not what you're thinking."

"Then what is it? I'm not getting any clear answers here."

"I um - I'm sorry if I offended you. It's not what I intended to do. I know what I'm about t-to tell you sounds silly since I had hoped I'd outgrow this, but I still feel shy around you."

This much you did know. He was overly conscious of himself, his actions, and how he might disappoint or be lacking, but most of all was hateful of his own inadequacies. Yet, for where he found fault, you found virtue and you would remind him of that, but in this case, you simply needed to listen. "That's okay, I already knew that."

"I don't feel like that all the time, but today I got embarrassed all of a sudden. I-I don't know what happened. Y-you were wearing my clothes and I saw your silhouette in the starlight and I got nervous."

Huh? That's what was bothering him?

"Why?"

"It um - it made me wonder what it'd be like if we lived together and…oh, it's embarrassing."

The hand which he had resting on the couch gripped the fabric tightly, and he was mortified because he had been distracted by you; which under normal circumstances he'd be able to remain calm. Covering his hand with yours, you gave him a squeeze."No, I would like to hear what you were thinking about very much."

Lacing his fingers with yours, you two sat there for a matter of minutes as he gathered his thoughts together. When he calmed a little, he confessed. "I thought about what it'd be like t-to wake up right next t-to you and not be alone anymore. I-I think about it a lot."

"Oh." That hadn't been what you expected. However, was it really so strange? He had intended to propose months ago, but ever since the moment had been spoiled he hadn't attempted to try again; if it had gone well, you two might've been married by now. Though, who was to say he didn't dream of it? Of what he'd always wanted, of a family or of the life in which he needed? Perhaps gentle encouragement wouldn't hurt.

"You know," you responded with a serious, but gentle candor. "you're not the only one who thinks about us living together. I'm very happy here and I love what we do together. And although we've had times where we respected one another's space, I don't mind if that changes. However, there are things that aren't so simple. For example, if I would've known that I could borrow your clothes whenever I liked I would've done so more often. Though, only if you hadn't been concerned about me getting accidentally poisoned by chemicals or radiation. Remember that time you literally fought with the laundry?"

"I do remember," he answered wistfully. "it's what prompted me t-to teach you how to use the freeze ray and laser gun correctly."

"I think the longer we're together, the more our lives will intertwine. Meaning, the more we move forward, the more training I'm going to need to fit into this lifestyle of ours. I think I'm going to need a portable scanner that'll allow me to check your clothes before I think of putting them on."

With serious, but tender eyes, he studied you. Then, he picked up his sweater which sat between you two and wondered. "Y-you want to wear my clothes? A great deal of them have seen better days. Are y-you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure," you brightened. "because I love the way your clothes smell. If you were away, it'd make me think of you and it...I don't know, makes us seem more domestic. Is that along the lines of what you were thinking?"

"Y-yeah."

"Cool. Glad to know we're on the same page."

Relieved, he pressed a kiss to your temple and seemed ready for that cup of coffee. And as you stood, ready to head to the kitchen to prepare it for him, you mentioned. "And by the way, I gotta tell you something important."

"Gee, what is that?"

Striking a pose, you made him chuckle; that was a good sign. "That it's totally cool to be into me and check me out. I don't mind, and it makes me happy that I know what it takes to catch your eye. However, there's an exception: when we're driving around in space, where anything could kill us, we gotta keep our eyes on the space around us unless on autopilot. Only then," you winked. "might it be okay to be a little distracted."

Fin

[katsukisbeatingheart]

if you want

· - - - -

he has a bit of a difficult time being patient.

word count: 2143

a03

pt. 2

It was a little untoward but did as good a job as any.

A blush burst like confetti in a rage rash across his cheeks; and if you didn't know any better, you'd think the mighty Katsuki was actually maybe a little embarrassed.

"Well?"

He shifted in his place, trying—and failing—to maintain a façade of a complacent blasé boy just casually asking out a close friend.

"Close" was a bit of a stretch for you. Yes, you found him quite brash and obnoxious and a little insensitive; but you couldn't deny what he meant to you. At least, you thought highly of him, and you were sure you could tell him anything—but you weren't positive that was reciprocated.

Was he one of your best friends? Yes.

Would you even dare to ask him how he felt about you? No.

You! Didn't! Want! To! Ruin! What! You! Had! It had taken what seemed like ages for him to finally warm up to you, without, like, actually exploding—and if you think you'd run the risk of watching that go down in flames? You considered yourself an idiot.

However, unbeknownst to you—Katsuki thought you were the world. If he could put it to words and send them out through that angry trap cursing everything to hell—he'd say you were a force of nature. A worthy rival, a trusted partner, and a kind and wonderful friend.

Except all he's got are angry bees and a tornado in his brain, at all times. As such, anyone he admired, he felt the need to challenge. On all levels physical, he planned to annihilate them. Which wasn't necessarily the case, well, in your case.

Although, there were—a few physical levels— He shook that thought away. That's an idea for a later date. The blush flared. 'Much later.'

But really, he loved provoking you. Only because you're so cute and intelligent and warm and messy—so, so messy—and he got a serious kick out of that. You're complex and human and alive. Despite your faults, you refused to let anything stop you in the end game—you refused to let that keep you from what you wanted. He watched you grow, and evolve and adapt to those weaknesses, and suddenly the line between strengths and not began to blur. He even dared to call you one of his personal heroes.

Thankfully for him, no one in the class noticed for the longest time.

Unsurprisingly, Kirishima was the first.

Bakugo would casually watch you walk into the room, head in his hand, eyes trailing each step you took. A silent Ejirou, sitting beside his best friend minding his own business, would look up startled—at the now fuming boy with a hand to his temple, or rubbing the back of his neck.

"You alright there, man?"

"Stomachache."

The dear boy would stare on in confusion, but keep to himself—a man's business was his business. Puzzled, he witnessed Katsuki all but sprint out the door, noticeably more red than his usual complexion. Then, minutes later, Katsuki would return, smelling notably more of burning sugar, and looking like he'd run maybe half a mile. Kiri wouldn't question it. Until, after that, across the room you'd laugh at something Denki or Ochacko had said, and Bakugo would stand right back up again.

"What's wrong?"

"It's back again." And that'd be the end of that.

It became a reoccurring thing throughout the weeks, when finally—bewilderdly—Kirishima would come to the conclusion Katsuki had been stubbornly avoiding. He popped the question a few weeks later.

"You like someone, don't you."

Class had taken a recess, and his best friend took the liberty to gravitate toward him with a pencil and notebook in hand to work on an upcoming assignment—hopefully without being disturbed, which already wasn't happening.

Bakugo's whole body twitched. "I– you– what– you weirdo what is that supposed to mean?"

Kirishima blinked owlishly at his friend. He wasn't sure what to say next, as he honestly didn't think he'd get this far.

"Well... you've been acting kinda strange lately... around someone in particular..."

Bakugo raised his eyebrows defensively. He hoped that did a good job of masking his expression, because he suddenly had a pretty good idea as to where this was going.

"Well, I mean..." Kirishima dragged a path along with his eyes, coming to a stop at an angle, gazing at you covertly through his lashes. Katsuki rolled his eyes, trying really hard to keep his heart from racing anymore than it already was. He pointedly looked back down at his paper, a tighter grip on his pencil.

"I don't know what the fuck you're talking about."

Eijiro couldn't keep a grin from crawling across his smug face.

"Oh, but I think you do."

After that, the secret couldn't keep to itself and the rest of the class began to trickle into the loop. Much to the surprise of everyone, they weren't all that surprised because they thought you're quite wonderful. But Katsuki? And a crush?

He couldn't help it; the guy seriously respected you.

With all of the determination rivalling theirs to become professional heroes, the class set to work on making this happen. They split up and rearranged classroom chores, made up excuses as to why they couldn't make it to study sessions where you and Bakugo attended, and shut out any outside obstacles—curfews, misplaced lunch seatings, Mineta.

"Oh, no, it's okay! You go ahead, I've got this," you chirped, in a positively upbeat mood. It was so absurdly warm, Kaminari felt guilty about moping the entire day to get out of his after school tasks. He'd managed to convince you he had a sick baby bird at home to tend to, before having to return to the dorms later tonight. Of course, that was a lie.

'It's for a good cause. It's for a good cause. It's for a good cause. It's for a good cause.' Denki knew he was a simpleton; but he'd be damned if he didn't have his moments.

"Are you sure? I'd really hate to trouble you, ya know," he offered, conjuring his best solicitous veneer, silently hoping he wasn't overdoing it now.

"No, yeah! Go on ahead; I heard you mention you had some personal things to take care of—you sounded really stressed about it." Denki had to will himself from openly clutching his chest and bursting into tears.

'Attentive and kind as always! I would expect nothing less of you.'

He opened his mouth to reply with something a little more heartfelt, but the burning gaze of Mina—probably stealthily situated peering through the windows facing the hall—stared holes into the back of his head. Kaminari's mouth snapped shut, and he took that as his cue to bounce. "Great! Awesome. Noice, thank you—" he rambled in an absolutely-not-guilty-at-all lilt. At the door though, he paused, throwing a suggestive smile over his shoulder, "—you kids have fun."

You wrinkled your eyebrows, not yet having received the eight new text messages from your other friends, conveniently busy with their own matters, as well.

After a while, Katsuki came to realize that this dancing around his feelings business was getting to be a little old. He felt pathetic, ordinarily used to tackling things head on. It took some serious convincing, on his part—but he knew what he wanted.

He tried small things, at first—microscopic, all considered, but this was Bakugo. Katsuki began propping doors open for you to pass by if you were walking together, like a real gentleman would.

He dropped snacks by your desk;"You forgot your money again, didn't you, dumbass?"

Always kept an extra water bottle on hand with your name on it; "Don't need you passing out during class, idiot."

He even gave you a little star sticker he had "found" on his way back from an orthodontist appointment; "It was stuck to the bottom of my shoe. I don't want it, you take it." It was in too perfect condition for that to be true.

By then he felt silly, recognizing that this probably wasn't going to be enough to get his point across; even if his friends, at least, noticed the small attempts (trying very hard to keep their mouths shut, all the while).

Katsuki didn't know where the fire was, but eventually he'd had enough of himself. This was going to happen, and it was going to happen today.

After an afternoon of mulling and seriously suppressed grins, Bakugo approached you with an imperceptibly wavering stride. He could launch himself into the heat of a fight no problem, but Katsuki Bakugo was not perfect—no matter how arrogant and prideful he was to admit that.

"Hey. Come practice with me."

You blinked in surprise, running your fingers along the hem of your uniform almost self consciously. It was nearing the evening, and you'd figured he would've joined everyone in studying back at the dorms.

'Although, I suppose sparring is a form of studying,' you reasoned with yourself.

'But... why me?'

He brought you to a secluded clearing, amongst the woodlands surrounding the campus. It wasn't so deep in as to hide evidence, but it was free enough from prying eyes and ears—he made sure of that, with a totally justified menacing promise on his classmates' lives. The overhang of leaves, swooping branches, and glistening waters—complete with lil frogs leaping amongst the moss—made this probably one of the best places he could think of for this exact situation. It was definitely the most fairy tale thing he had ever seen, which said a lot—his mother had dragged him and his father to TDL on many an occasion when he was a child.

Of course, he supposed it was just his stupid, newly developed romantic bastard brain romanticizing everything.

Setting the scene was the trick—because if that had gone wrong, then this would've been glossing near "patronizing", and would probably be much closer to a threat. In a way, you wryly wondered if it really was.

"Hey," he nearly barked. "Anyone home?"

You'd been standing in a silent stupor long enough for Katsuki to grow nervous-impatient. He'd put his hands in his pockets and kicked a little bit at the ground beneath him, trying to maintain some sense of calm. The glower in his eyes gave him away.

Your lips popped open in a fish face motion as you grappled for your words. "I–I– I'm really– I–" Your tongue stumbled over itself. Katsuki gave you an expectant look and you felt your cheeks turn a brand new shade of red.

"I just– I can't– I don't–"

You tried so hard, trying to find the right words. They stubbornly refused to appear, wrestling with each other in the deepest part of your gradually dizzying consciousness. Your hands trembled, waving around aimlessly, making a point you hadn't even begun to form yet.

Bakugo suddenly felt as though he had hit a wall. An invisible one, because this was exactly the thing he was trying to avoid. It grated at his ego and he was slowly getting more and more agitated, his deepest insecurities writhing under his skin. You stuttered and gestured, wringing your slicked palms on your clothes.

After a long, silent moment, his face fell into a stone cold stare you'd never seen directed at you before. It morphed from uncertainty, to a grimace you associated with catching a bad smell, and into an equable scowl. Your heart thumped to the pit of your stomach.

A forcibly steady breath through the nose. "Fine."

He straightened his posture.

"I get it."

The dark look stared down at you, something you were sure was one of his special moves. "It's whatever. It doesn't matter, anyway." Except it did.

Your eyebrows knitted, your pulse quickening. "Katsuki, I– that's not–"

Biting back a sneer, Bakugo seethed through his teeth. "Save it," he hissed. "I don't want to fucking do this if I'm the only one giving my all."

The shock that came to you is what you assumed being struck by lightning felt like. You wanted to laugh, and tell him that was such a Katsuki thing to say in a situation like this; but he was already stomping away, taking strides to double yours.

"Katsuki, wait!" You called out, feeling coming back to your legs, and made to move in after him. "Katsuki!"

His silhouette gradually disappeared into the leaves that had initially felt so welcoming, like they promised something.

You went as quick as you could, mindful of the roots and pockets of earth at your feet.

As Bakugo slid out of reach, his words were a deafening whisper in the hushed world around you.

"Just—leave me alone."

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{a/n: hello!! i have this split up bc i wanted to write a few more scenes under the same premise... plus!! having something extra to do gives me a little more motivation & inspiration to make new things; thanks for reading<3}

[i-write-shakespeare-not-disney]

If you’ll only hold me tight…. Once upon a time I was falling in love, now I’m only falling apart. Once upon a time there was light in my life, now there’s only love in the dark. There’s nothing I can do- a total eclipse of the heart. August 20th, 2017 According to the watch Pidge had, that was date. And according to her research, there would be an eclipse on Earth the next day. The first total eclipse in 99 years. If things went well, they could portal close enough to see it from the castle. And after dinner, Lance was trying to psyche himself up to finally tell Keith how he felt. He was tired of holding in the emotions especially when Keith gave him such reassuring, soft smiles anytime Lance needed them most. Keith was a person who always had a scowl on his face if it was completely devoid of emotion. He was a person who only cared for people at a distance. He didn't hug, he didn't vocalize it, he didn't show it. But with Lance, he was different. Maybe it was in his head, maybe it was stupid, naïve optimism. But Keith had given him gentle smiles, offered comfort in the way he knew how, and protected him each time they had to fight. He was Keith's right hand man, and his Korean crush didn't seem to mind. He listened to Lance. He made sure Lance knew he was needed. Ever since that talk in his room, Keith had been so different with Lance. Then Lance recognized the butterflies in his stomach when he heard Shiro telling Allura that Keith had offered to stay behind, returning the Black Lion, to help Coran. Lance knew Keith wasn't close to Coran. Keith had done that for him. So he wouldn't be the extra paladin. So he would still be needed. Keith lived for battle and he had offered to stay behind. Ever since then, Lance only felt these emotions growing. With each smile that seemed especially for him, with each encouraging comment during training and after, with each chuckle and eye roll after Lance teased him lightly if only to keep up the familiar banter. He didn't want to feed more hope into these feelings if Keith didn't actually mean anything in those gestures. He had to at least let Keith know what he was beginning to feel before it caused problems instead of flowery, floaty feelings. He kept pacing back and forth in the hallway trying to gather the courage to knock on his door. He fought fleets of Galra warriors, he fought mutated monsters sent after them, he defended the freaking universe. He could do this. He couldn't do this. He was a coward when it came to cute boys with galaxies for eyes and smiles that could melt icebergs as quickly as their glares could. He shook his head, feeling a mixture of relief and disappointment, and he started walking away. Then he heard that familiar low voice with that pleasing rasp. “Lance?” He froze and turned to face Keith. His hair was sticking to his forehead, his shirt different shades of black where the sweat soaked through it, and he was sporting a few new bruises. He had been training. “You okay?” Lance cleared his throat. There were too many ways to answer that question. “Hey. Seriously, what wrong?” His dark eyebrows were furrowed, his eyes worried and a bright, beautiful violet color, surrounded by eyelashes that curled so elegantly it was unfair. It was now or never. “Could we talk?” Keith's eyebrows twitched lower, and he nodded, gesturing to his room. “Um, actually, can we take a walk?” Keith stopped and stared at him before nodding again and turning, waiting for him to lead the way. Lance started walking and swallowed the nausea building in his throat. He wasn't sure how to start. He kept opening his mouth to talk only to completely hate the way whatever he was going to say would sound. Once they'd reached the end of the hallway and turned, Keith spoke. “You're freaking me out, Lance. Are you okay?” “Don't freak out,” he said, his voice shaking. “It's nothing serious. And I don't think it's bad, I guess that up for interpretation, really. I just dunno where to start or how to say it without sounding stupid, you know and I-” “Lance, you're not stupid,” he interrupted with that gentle voice. Lance called it his serious voice. Keith had different tones for anything he said and Lance had managed to name each of them. His angry voice, his frustrated voice, his complacent voice, his tired voice, his sad voice-which was the same low voice but with a specific expression- and this one: his serious voice. A voice he'd started using with Lance more and more in place of angry or frustrated. It was his favorite. “Lance, what is it?” Lance blinked and brought himself back to reality, heaving a sigh. “I'm sorry, I'm probably making this out to be way more than it is. Just give me a moment, yeah?” Keith frowned and nodded. They walked around, feet almost automatically walking toward the training room and past it to the hangar. Keith stayed quiet, waiting on Lance. “Um. So first, I want to say thank you. Thank you for helping me especially when I feel like I'm not good enough or I don't belong. I never really thought you'd be someone to help me with that, but… I mean I never thought I'd be flying a giant metal lion either.” He chuckled nervously and Keith's lip quirked up slightly in that small, sweet smile that gave Lance butterflies. He cleared his throat and tried to use that smile to ground himself. “I really appreciate all of it.” They came to a stop in front of the lions. Lance looked at Blue sadly before turning to Red. Keith was looking at her too, but there wasn't really any specific emotion in his face. Lance gulped and licked his lips. “Look, we're going to be out here for who knows how long. And we're a team. So there shouldn't be secrets right? I… I have to tell you something. I really don't know how you'll take it, okay? And I'm not expecting anything specific, I just have to tell you. I don't want you to be angry, but… I guess I understand if you do get angry so-” “Lance,” Keith said with a hand on his arm. “Breathe,” he encouraged. “What is it?” He looked at him with concern, and Lance could feel the soft humming purr of his new lion in his head. He wondered if Keith could still hear her too. He couldn't hear Blue. But Red seemed to be gently encouraging him. The purr was comforting, and Lance was filled with a distant calming emotion. It would be okay. Lance took a breath, looked Keith in the eyes, and clenched his jaw. Then, in a single breath, he said, “I think I like you.” There was no explosion. No burst of realization. No gasp, no look of disgust or joy. The only change on Keith's face was a slight eyebrow raise, and the subtle parting of his lips. He never broke the eye contact. “You're… not joking.” Lance pressed his lips together and shook his head slowly. “When you say ‘like,’ you mean….” “A crush. Feelings. Romantic ones. Yeah,” he answered not really sure how to respond to this… unresponsive reaction. “Oh.” He kept staring at Lance and the blush that spread across his cheeks spread so slowly, Lance almost didn't notice. “That's… new. I'm not usually… um, likable I guess.” He finally looked away and Lance realized he could breathe. “Um… since when? Why?” He seemed so genuinely confused. Like the idea that Lance liked him wasn't bizarre, but the fact that someone could was. Lance felt a little less horrible and shrugged. “I can't say for sure when. But… because of how much you care. Even if not in the most obvious ways, you just… you managed to make me feel like I mattered. And you're inspiring. You're dedicated and determined and you don't just brush me off you know? Keith… I really admire you. From the way you're ridiculously fearless and the way you stepped up to lead Voltron. It's just…. I don't know I just started getting all of these giddy feelings when I'd see you or when you'd smile at me the way do. I feel like I think clearer around you, I'm… better around you. But I'm also a mess.” He chuckled and shrugged. “I just really like being around you and the fact that I can talk to you without feeling stupid because you make sure I don't… feel that way.” He looked up and saw Keith's red face and wide eyes looking at him. “O-oh. Oh. Oh.” Lance gulped. Red, I might have broken him. He heard the low rumble of laughter in his head. Keith finally took a breath and managed to stammer out actual sentences. “I've kind of never been good with people. Relationships and stuff… it's weird. Friendships, I mean. I just… I don't really get the dynamic, you know, I'm used to being alone.” Lance felt his heart sink, but he smiled and nudged him gently. “Hey. I told you; it's cool, I don't expect anything, I just wanted to tell you. Don't think I'm trying to-” “No, no, no,” Keith interrupted, waving his hands frantically. “I'm not saying…. I just mean…. I don't think I'm the best person to get a crush on. But… this idea is… it feels, um, right? It just… makes sense.” Lance tilted his head in confusion and Keith gulped. “I mean… maybe I can learn. And maybe….” Lance took a sudden breath, realizing what he meant. There was a chance? A possibility? Did Keith feel the same way? Could he? Keith groaned and ran a hand through his hair. “Just give me a tick to string my thoughts into coherent sentences, okay? Here, come on.” He sat by Red's paw and started chewing his nails. Lance sat in front of him awkwardly. “None of what I wanted to say came out right,” he breathed. He cleared his throat and sighed. “I'm still learning to take social cues and… I'm still learning to trust friends, and getting used to what it's like to have friends. So it's surprising to me that someone like you would like me.” Lance frowned and scooted away slightly. “Someone like me?” he repeated. Keith nodded. “Lance, you're way more level-headed than me. You're in touch with your emotions. You wear your heart on your sleeve and I… well I build walls around mine. I-I should be the one admiring you. And… um. Well I never really… thought about letting myself be interested in someone but maybe… I guess it kind of just clicked when the possibility of liking a guy came up. I…. Maybe with a little time or something, I-” Lance placed a hand on his arm. “Hey Keith. Breathe,” he said with a smile. Keith smiled back at him, his cheeks dusted with red. “We'll figure it out together, yeah?” “That'd be nice,” he answered softly. “Thank you.” “Yeah. Yeah, of course. Um.... Well, for now, I’m your right-hand man. You know that, right?” Keith smiled and nodded. “Perfect. I’m going to go ahead and go to bed. I’m really tired,” he said with a light laugh. Lance nodded and gestured for them to leave the hangar. They’d barely made it one step out when the castle jostled, toppling them over and sirens rang in their ears. “What the-?” “We’re getting attacked,” Keith realized, his voice dropping lower, his laughter gone. In its place a determined, angry expression. “Get your armor and your lion.” Lance nodded and raced off to tug on his armor. The original paladins really should have thought about making them a little more efficient. He went to the red lion who had lost all the playful purrs and replaced with vicious, menacing growls. Lance went in, sitting at his pilot’s seat before flying her out of the castle. The black and blue lions were already out. Pidge and Hunk followed quickly after, and the particle barrier flew up around the castle, flickering after the damage it took to the system. There were several Galra planes with ion blasters aimed toward them. “We don’t have time to form Voltron,” Keith growled. “We have to knock out most of the defenses. If we can, try to pinpoint Lotor’s. If not, at least get rid of enough so Coran and Shiro can distract them long enough for us to form,” Keith commanded. His voice was certain, level, no rush, only determination. “Roger that.” “On it!” “Sounds like a plan.” “You got it.” The lions spread out and a variety of colors began to paint the small part of the universe they were in. Blue, red, yellow, green, dark and light purple, white. All the beams and weapons shot across the sky creating a beautifully terrifying picture. The sounds of crashing metal, explosions, and weapons filled the silence. It was incredible to think that this was happening while the rest of the universe remained oblivious. Pidge had taken a particularly hard hit, and Hunk spent half the time acting as her second armor while fending off his own Galran ships. Allura and Lance managed to work together to shoot down some of the Galras, but more took their place. Shiro and Coran were sending their own hits from the castle but it wouldn’t be long before the castle was surrounded by ion blasters and shot down if the paladins could make them retreat soon. Of course, Keith had noticed and apparently decided to dive headfirst. Lance saw his lion speeding toward Lotor’s main battleship, the jaw blade slicing through any ship that came toward him and ducking any blasts shot his way. “Keith! What are you doing?” Lance shouted into the comm. “I’m cutting the head off this hydra,” he answered, his voice tight and angry. “It’s dangerous to go al-” “I’m already here, Lance,” Keith interrupted. “Keep fighting. All of you.” Lance could barely keep himself focused knowing Keith was heading right into the belly of the beast. Suddenly he was knocked aside and Allura shot an ice ray at two enemy ships that had aimed at Lance. “Focus, Lance,” she chided. “Someone has to help Keith,” he said. “What?” she nearly shrieked. But Lance was already starting for Lotor and the black lion. Come on, Red. I know you can do this. Red seemed to snarl in response, moving quicker and smoother, dodging blasts, nearly controlling Lance’s body as he shot his magma beam until they reached the platform of Lotor’s ship. He was horrified to see Keith wasn’t even in his lion anymore. “Keith what are you doing?” he shouted, not bothering to be subtle. “Get in your lion!” “I’m in,” he answered softly. He was sneaking in. But did he really think Lotor wouldn’t know he was there? “He’s in range…. It would help if I had my sharpshooter, you know?” Lance felt terror grip his throat. Too close, he was too close to danger. “Keith,” he said firmly. “Don’t do this. Get back in the lion.” “Lance, I have a chance to end this. I’m taking it. Are you helping or-” There was a series of noises that none of the paladins knew what to make of. “Keith?” Pidge shouted. “You there?” “Are you okay, Keith?” Allura asked, her voice calm, but Lance knew her well enough to know her face would be panicked. “Coran, Shiro, can you pick up his vitals?” Lance asked in a panic. “He’s there. They must have knocked the helmet off, but he’s okay. I got his heartbeat on the system,” Shiro said. “He’s surrounded by five Galra,” Coran added. Lance growled under his breath and grit his teeth. “I told him,” he muttered as he left his lion. “Lance what are you doing, dude?” Hunk shouted. “We can’t have you in danger too, get back in!” “Sorry, big guy. He’d do the same if I was in there. I’m pulling him out by the ear,” he promised. “Be careful, Lance,” Pidge warned before grunting, possibly in response to another attack. “Hunk!” Lance shut them out and dipped into the ship, noting that there was a severe lack of security. He slinked through hallways, heart pounding like hummingbird wings. “Guys, can I get a location?” he whispered into his comm. “Two more hallways down, turn right, second opening. It’s the control room,” Coran answered. “Have your shield up, my boy.” “Got it,” Lance answered, sprinting closer. There were no guards. No cameras. No trip wires or booby traps. Then he heard it. The fighting, the lack of mercy, the painful screams that made Lance’s blood freeze. He raced into the room, in time to shoot at a large Galra with tufts on the side of her head before she could get a hold of Keith. Keith looked over in surprise and seemed relieved when he saw Lance. “I told you-!” Lance cut off when he saw another Galra, this one cloaked, coming toward him. There were no facial features- no eyes, no mouth, no nose. He stepped back and tripped over something. He felt a gentle pressure on his chest and opened his eyes. A cat. It was a cat. Before he could shove it off, the blank faced Galra leapt onto him, hand clutching his throat without mercy. He heard a growl, and he could see Keith in his peripheral vision. His blade was a blur, his body agile, moving where it had to, light as he jumped and turned and kicked. Lance gripped the Galra’s wrist and  thrust his elbow up to hit her in the chin, causing her to jump back. Lance aimed his blaster at her, scowling as sher tilted her head, and the cat hissed and flicked its tail. “Move!” Keith shouted, gripping his arm and dragging him back as a beam blasted the ground where he’d been standing. “If you’d listened to me, this wouldn’t be happening!” “But I didn’t and it is, you really want to have this argument now?” he snapped, as he stood back to back with him, eyeing the Galra generals. There was a pink one with colorful markings and a childish smile standing in front of Lance. She didn’t look Galran at all. Not like the others. In fact, Lance could imagine himself trying to hit on to her if they’d met on a different planet. “They brought two of the kitties!” she said happily. As if there wasn’t a full-blown battle underway. “I thought so,” a deep, musical voice purred. Lance let his eyes drift where he saw movement, his hand tensing around the trigger of his blaster. He saw a Galran with stark white hair and yellow eyes with purple irises like Keith’s and an angular face. Lotor. He seemed so calm, so at ease. “Can we kill them yet?” the one with tufts growled. “I want the tall one,” she snarled, baring her teeth. “Patience,” Lotor said almost lazily. “Narti. Bring the lions aboard.” The cloaked one slinked away. “You take two I take two?” Lance whispered. He heard Keith huff in response. Then he heard an angry shriek as Keith lunged forward and brought his blade down on a human-esque Galra. The only thing that showed she was Galra was her skin tone and the ridges on her head. The violent one lunged at Lance, but he managed to duck and roll out of the way, coming up on one knee to shoot, the force of the blow throwing her against Lotor. “Oh, you’re cute!” the pink one said, flipping him upside down with the strange tail growing out of her head like a fleshy ponytail. Then she threw him against the wall. “Lance!” Keith shouted. He shoved the Galra aside and started for the pink one who danced around him with a musical laugh, moving as quickly as Keith. Lance pulled himself up and shot at the other Galra. Lotor scowled as the taller one blocked the hits with a large piece of metal. “Let’s go!” he snapped. “We have the lions. These two are useless.” The pink one managed a graceful backflip back towards Lotor, leaving Keith breathless as he glared. “Acxa. Make sure the fleets pull back. We can get the other lions another day.” The humanoid one nodded and slipped away, casting a final glare at them, reminding Lance of Keith. As the metal started coming down, Lance shot again, shoving the unsuspecting Galra back. She growled, but Lance kept his blaster levelled with his eyes, ready to shoot again. Lotor scowled and looked at them with contempt. “I’m feeling generous, paladins. Leave. Your services are no longer needed.” He smirked and turned away as if the fact that both Lance and Keith had weapons meant nothing to him. The other two followed. As much as Lance wanted to go after them, he knew it would be futile. They could barely fight them off last time when they were all together and now Lotor was there too. He gripped Keith’s arm and tugged him. “Let’s go. We’ll figure out how to get the lions back,” he said. He had to call for one of the others to come get them and take them back to the Castle of Lions. Then Lotor’s voice echoed through the control room. “Oh, and Zethrid? Get the bayards.” Just like that the Galra was on them, all growls and angry hits, tossing Lance aside like a rag doll as she wretched the blaster from his hands. He saw spots in his vision for a few seconds before he could process Keith shouting his name again. When his sight refocused, he saw Keith slicing his blade down, pushing Zethrid’s growling figure back, back, back. She lifted the blaster, but that was a long range weapon. Keith was fighting too close, moving too quickly. Lance heard more commotion, heard more fighting. Had the others come to help? One had called back the other fleets. The paladins were free to help. Maybe they could still win. Lance saw the blue blast fill the room before he heard it. He turned, shrieking for Keith in a panic, stumbling forward to find him. Then he heard a defiant yell and the sound of a blade being impaled. There was an angry roar and Lance saw Keith’s blade shoved into Zethrid’s side. She shoved him back, hitting him with the butt of the blaster before stumbling away, panting for breath. “Keith? Keith!” Lance shouted. Half of him wanted to hug Keith, and half of him wanted to yank him by the ear. But the second he saw him still standing, he decided to go with the former. He struggle to get onto his feet and threw his arms around Keith, pulling him in tightly as he was flooded with relief. His limbs began to shake from the adrenaline coursing through him. “Oh thank God you’re okay.” “L-Lance?” he croaked. “I’m right here,” he said. Keith’s arms came around him, then he slumped, and Lance staggered before he could regain his grip. “Keith?” “That blaster hurts so quiznacking much,” he wheezed. His eyes were glazed over, struggling to focus on Lance. Lance’s eyes went wide and he let them trail down. The white armor at his chest was smeared with crimson blood. Blood that kept flowing out from the the black nylon just under the slope of the armor, glistening in the most sickening way as it pulsed out of him. He had been hit too close. Lance fell to his knees, cradling Keith gently and shook his head. “No, no, no. You’re gonna be okay, okay? Focus on me. Look at me. Look at me.” Keith’s violet eyes flickered to him, blinking rapidly. Lance was vaguely aware of the fighting happening outside the room. “The others are here. They'll be here soon okay, just hold on. Keith, talk to me. Please.” “It- hurts,” he choked, his face contorting, his body spasming in Lance’s arms. His eyes stayed on him. “Ev-everything hurts.” He gasped for air and coughed, causing blood to sputter out and dribble down the corner of his mouth. “I-I should’ve… li-listened to you.” “Yeah, you think so?” Lance answered, his voice weak and breaking as he held Keith. “It’s okay. We’ll patch you up and put you in a healing pod and then when you’re out, I’m going to hound you for this. I'll put you in time out and everything. You're officially grounded.” Keith’s mouth quirked, but instead of sending butterflies through Lance, it caused terrified goosebumps. His eyes were too distant. The blood was bright against his pale, sweaty face. Lance gulped and held him tighter. “Then we’ll go see the eclipse. We can sit together. Drink space juice and watch and pretend none of this ever happened,” he continued with a soft, weak voice. He wasn't sure he believed himself. “Sounds… like… a date,” he breathed. His breaths were short and his grip was losing strength as he clung to Lance. The words made a half sob, half laugh bubble up in Lance and he pressed his forehead to Keith’s. “Take care of Red for me,” he mumbled. “W-what? Keith? No, no, no, Keith, wake up,” Lance said, shaking him. Keith winced, but his eyes fluttered open. “Don’t fall asleep. Don’t you dare, Mullet. We’re in the middle of battle, you can’t fall asleep. I swear I’ll start calling you Sleeping Beauty if you dare fall asleep on me.” Keith smiled weakly, his fingers twitching as they gripped Lance’s arm. “As long as you wake me up,” he whispered, shutting his eyes. “No, Keith. Open your eyes. Open your eyes, come on,” he insisted. Keith did, but it was obvious he was struggling. His gaze focused on the ceiling as his eyes watered and more blood seeped from his mouth. “Keith, come on,” Lance moaned. “I-I don’t… I don’t feel anything any-anymore,” he gasped. “Keith, stay with me. Stay awake, okay?” Lance whimpered. Keith’s breaths slowed, his eyes fluttering before they turned blank, slightly cross-eyed as his head lolled to the side. “No!” He shook Keith almost violently. “Come back! Come back, come back, come back!” he pleaded. “No, no, no!” he wailed, pulling Keith closer, sobbing into his hair as his limp body rested against him. Lance placed his lips to his icy, sweaty forehead, sobbing, hands shaking as he caressed him, begging him to wake up, to come back. He heard the rush of footsteps, heard the gasps, the shriek that must have come from Pidge, but he couldn’t bring himself to lift his head from where it remained buried in the crook of his neck, covered by that stupid, adorable mullet. Keith had been his rival. Then he became his leader. Then his friend. He became one of the few friends Lance could trust completely. And now he was gone. No more smiles. No more varying tones of voice. No more galaxy eyes reading him like an open book. No more maybes, no more hope, no more….

[umisabaku]

So, in regards to your D:M series, I was thinking. Himuro is really calm cool and collected. He has little to no shame and seems to be overall really confident in his position in life. My question is: is he always like this, or does he have moments of vulnerability in the face of, say, homophobia or something of the like? And if so, would Murasakibara notice and help him feel better, or would Himuro be really good at hiding it? We don't see much of them and so I was just curious. Thanks! :)

This trip back toAmerica has brought out a whole bunch of revelations that Himuro doesn’t fullyknow how to process yet. It was one thing to readily accept that his old friendNijimura Shuuzou had secretly been a genetically designed superhuman all along,it is another thing entirely to learn that Himuro’s own father wasinvolved with a different organization that dealt with genetically alteredhuman beings.

But at leastMurasakibara was here with him, and he seems to be scaring the crap out ofHimuro’s father, so.

At least there’s that.

*

It had been sheerperversity for Himuro to say, “Atsushi, would you like to visit America withme? You can meet my father.” And in all honesty, he rather expectedMurasakibara to decline the offer. He was already wondering if he felt liketrying to convince Murasakibara to come with him or if he should leave it wellenough alone, but Murasakibara had surprised him by saying, “Sure, Murochin”without any kind of coaxing needed.

Providence had been asurprise to both of them.

*

Now, Himuro is doingsomething he never thought he would be in the position to do: introducing hisboyfriend to his father.

Himuro Ryuichiro is anexpressive man—his lips tighten at the sight of Murasakibara, he stands verystiffly, he occasionally flinches slightly if Murasakibara stands too close.This is a combination of things, Himuro figures: the fact that Murasakibara isdating his son, the fact that Murasakibara is a mutant, the fact thatMurasakibara is over two meters tall and could crush anyone in his path.

At first, Himuro takesa great deal of joy in the fact that his father seemed scared of Murasakibara,but gradually it just makes him sad, and then sort of bitterly complacent. IfRyuichiro can’t approve of Murasakibara, then at least he knows not to pickfights with him. It’s a small consolation, but Himuro finds slight solace in itnonetheless.

*

“Is Murochin OK?”

“I’m fine, Atsushi,”Himuro says.

“Hmm. I could crushhim, you know. Pretty easy. He’s tiny.”

Himuro smiles, andburies his face in Murasakibara’s shoulder. “Yes, Atsushi, thank you. It isvery reassuring to know.”

*

“There are humanmen you could date, Tatsuya,” Ryuichiro says, his voice cool.

“Of course there are,but I don’t find them nearly as interesting,” Himuro replies blithely.

“Does he even have anykind of future planned?” Ryuichiru returns. “Does he have college or career inmind? Or is he just going to live off the celebrity of being a mutant?”

“I—” Himuro frowns,“Wait, are you criticizing him for being lazy?”

“I just don’t thinkyou should invest in a relationship if he’s not going to be serious,” Ryuichirosays.

Himuro isn’t entirelysure what to say with that. His father has never talked about any of the menHimuro—well, dated is probably the wrong word. But still. His father mostlyjust pretended they didn’t exist. He didn’t have opinions about them.

“I have every faith hecould be a professional basketball player,” Himuro ventures, just to see whatwould happen.

“Athleticism is ahobby, not a career, and I have told you that many times,” Ryuichiro sayssharply. “Tatsuya, you know I just want what’s best for you.”

It’s just thatRyuichiro seems to think “what’s best” for him is a wife and two children inthe suburbs. Himuro doesn’t say anything, and he’s sure nothing shows on hisface, but Ryuichiro sighs anyway.

“If you are seriousabout this young man, then he better have a stable job. I will not tolerate youshackling yourself to dead weight.”

“No worries at all, father. I fully plan on him making lots of money andmooching off of him for the rest of my life. I’m pretty enough to be a trophy husband.”

Ryuichiro huffs anddrops the subject, and Himuro wonders if he missed an opportunity.

*

Murasakibara leans onhis back, so that his long arms drape over Himuro’s shoulders and Himuro endsup slouching a bit.

“I could still crushhim,” Murasakibara ventures.

“I actually thinkwe’re making progress,” Himuro says thoughtfully. “But thank you, Atsushi.That’s a solid backup plan.”

A/N: Thank you,anon-friend! I spent a long time thinking about your prompt because I figuredthat Himuro probably doesn’t get too upset about many things (emotionalbasketball outbursts nonwithstanding) but I think Murasakibara would notice ifhe did, and would have a very singular approach to making him feel better =) Ialso meant to write a MuraMuro follow-up after the end of “Your Heart Ain’tCold” and then was super excited once I realized I could use this prompt to dothat =D Also figured I’d combine it with theother prompt I had for parental interactions. (Still holding off on Kagami dueto lack of headcanons). Thanks again anon-friends!! Hope you enjoyed!!