#I'd do the work just as good as any other asshole who's only goal in life is to be a doctor

[peaceblank]

Should I pursue a degree as pathology assistant, it pays well, but I'd have to stick around in this job, and I dont want to go back to school again.

[everybody-loves-purdy]

I think I'd be more interesting if Root wasn't a great mate/father,

not in the asshole way like Crowfucker but like never moving on from Bristle.

While I like to theorize that Moonpaw's voice is actually Bristle (or Goosefeather, which is a whole other can of worm) and the new series is about saving her/her spirit, I think Rootspring never being able to move on is SO much more interesting.

Picture this:

Wren confesses to Root who decides to give it a chance as he's very close with his family, it's something he's always wanted to have. They court and become mates, but Root still feels empty (it's a mix of depression, PTSD, and derealization from his time in Dark Forest/Never being able to see his first love in Heaven because she's double dead + Bramble's Ghost/Civil War).

He confesses he "wants a family" to Wren who immediately says yes and is ready to have kits, she's head-over-heels for him after all. Wren and Root have a good relationship and Root does his best to be a good mate. Kits are born and the two are happy... but it's clear Root does not feel any romantics towards Wren.

As the kits grow, Root is present but not entirely and towards the kits being 6 moons. Root breaks it off with Wren who is hurt but not surprised. Root and Wren become an awkward divorced couple as both care deeply about one another, and neither really hates the other. The kits are purely plot drivers as Wren and Root don't talk to each other much but still love their kits. After a lot of pushing and the kits pointing out their bullshit, the two talk.

By the time Wren and Root have a conversation and closure, I want Root to think about what he's done to his kits (i.e. neglect) and try to change for them. He has known that he needed help but refused to get any for so long, I mean what's the point? It's in the past. But his kits are quick to point out that "Bitch, we thought you didn't love us because you barely talked to us," and Root goes "Oh fuck my trauma has traumatised my own children, I REALLY need help." Root gets better and strives to be a better father...and friend.

Wren has her own development post-divorce. Being the only survivor of her litter, having helicopter parent Bellaleaf, and the expectation of continuing Skyclan's bloodline, shape Wren to be the stereotypical she-cat her society wants her to be. Wren latches onto Root as he's cute and kind and clearly not looking for anyone to be his mate. Wren DID fall in love with him eventually, but her initial attraction to him was purely because he's mate material: the dude is A Light in the Mist. A hero. So he's the perfect guy to have a family with.

The divorce was something Wren saw coming but didn't expect it to happen. She expected that she and Root would raise a few kits and just live out their days as mates, even if it was just in title. But Root wasn't happy. Root wasn't happy with HER (not really but it's how it came across). Wren has an identity crisis as having a mate and kits has been her goal in life since she herself was a kit. After some soul searching, Wren realizes that her dream isn't her own. It's society's.

Wren starts to work on herself. She had been told that she didn't have to be a good fighter or hunter to be a good mate and mother, so her kits decided to do some training with her to gain more confidence. But she's bad. Like. Really bad. Even her kits are like "Mom? No offence you REALLY suck, are you okay??" Then to the fun reveal that Wren cheated on her warrior assessment so she could get closer to Root. She's been able to scrape by without anyone noticing her so far because CAN hunt and fight, she just needs a bit more training. The guilt of faking her assessment plagues her, so her kits take it upon themselves to be her mentor/s. For drama's sake, Hawkwing overhears a conversation about Wren faking her assessment and is pissed. He has a private conversation with Wren + the kits about keeping this from him, and Wren is a wreak about someone finding out her shameful secret. She and her kits apologise. Hawk, being the himbo he is, goes, "Why are you apologising??? You can just take the assessment again??" Thus, upping the stakes and giving Wren motivation.

I think Root and Wren would have a talk before Wren's private assessment as they've both worked on themselves enough to hold a conversation and not just awkwardly ignore each other (This is only because I want Root and the kits to cheer her on during her assessment heheh). Root talks about his mental health, Bristle, the DF, all of it. He apologises for leading her on as he did want to have a mate and she's a great she-cat, she didn't deserve to be hurt like that. He also talks about how his mental health affects the kits and swears to be better for them, her, and mostly importantly himself. Wren apologises as well for being pushy about wanting kits/being mates to which Root is like 'Stop don't apologise, I wanted to be mates and have kits too'.

Wren talks about how Root made her feel like she wasn't there. How no matter what she did, nothing seemed to make him happy. She loved him and all she wanted was for him to be happy, happy with her. Wren talks about the fragile personality she adapted to seem more appealing, and how in the hopes of needing a 'big strong man' to help her, Root would be happy. Wren talks about how life-changing getting divorced was for her lol and how their kits have been helping her this whole time re-take her warrior assessment. She's ready to live for herself too. She apologises to Root for not being what she desires but she's okay that she isn't, Wren wants to be what she wants now: a warrior.

Ofc Wren passes her assessment and everyone cheers : D I'd like to think Root and Wren stay separated but become besties. Root becomes a better cat mentally and Wren breaks her own (albeit forced) social norm to be what SHE wants, as she should.

anyway erins hire me

This is so good I really love this idea

[olomaya]

Honestly, I'm relieved. This game was still looking so rough and I'd feel much more comfortable with a June release than this coming out in 6 weeks.

I was watching a video from SatchoSims* and he talked about how LBY is more just a compilation of gameplay features without any gameplay and he definitely pinpointed my main issue with the game despite my excitement for it. I just don't know what I'm going to DO or what I will want to do because they haven't really done a good job of explaining the rules and structures and goals of the game (aka what the game is about).

I'm still excited for it and will definitely play it in June and am eager to check out the modding tools but yeah, what are we doing?

The Sims was a time management game. You had to figure your shit out and meet your basic needs all while juggling other mini challenges and responsibilities and TRY to become successful which would then unlock cool shit to buy or do that you would have the time to do because the money and rewards and perks you grinded for allowed you to do it.

And then TS2 improved on that by focusing on interpersonal relationships and making that more complex so that Sims felt more unique but also had to focus more on mental health and well-being and the drama that comes with interacting with other people.

Then TS3 took that even farther by basically unleashing chaos all around you with an open world so you have less control over what is going on so while you are grinding away to create a dream house for the Sim you want to marry and grow old with, you head over to the park and see your future spouse making out with some asshole in zebra print pants! And then on top of that, they deepened skills and hobbies so Sims have soooo much to do so that life goals are so much more diverse (though I will admit this came at the expense of interpersonal relationships). People often say that they wish TS3 had TS2's hobby system but in my opinion, it not only does but it's infinitely much better than TS2's. I would argue that TS3 at its core is a game about hobbies and interests.

I love that LBY seems to be wanting to improve on TS3 (because TS4 definitely didn't) and give us a true life simulator but I still don't understand what the game is about. They show off how many traits they have and how we can mod in our own traits but what do the traits means? If a character has a Difficult Childhood trait, how is that going to affect their ability to form relationships, fall in love, be a good parent? They said we could have truly homeless characters to play Rags to Riches challenges. That's awesome! Can we see that? How does the economic system work? Could it be integrated, for example, where household taxes and bills actually go towards community development? Like THIS is gameplay. I don't want to see another treasure trove video or someone doing work tasks. Those are features, not core gameplay and if it is then I'm afraid Rod Humble is making TS4 competitor, not TS3 which would be a shame.

*I don't know if I like him or not, but he has good viewpoints compared to the other high-profile Sims 4 YouTubers who at this point are practically on the Maxis payroll desperately trying to pretend that game is interesting because it literally pays their bills 😭😭

[nothorses]

Sometimes I’m scared of becoming a toxic asshole for thinking these things, but when I saw the transmasc separatist dude, some of the things called for were things I already wanted to do. Like, seeking out transmasc authors and read their books, or transmasc musicians and listening to their music, or only dating other transmascs, or sticking to transmasc spaces. But I don’t want to do this because I think non-transmascs are incapable of not being transandrophobic. I want this because I’ve been hurt and all this feels like a way to give me some room to breathe and heal. And it’s frustrating cause the separatist stuff feels like it’s inviting me in for that but I don’t think it will help but I’m scared of others telling me I’m no better than them for needing space. I don’t know. Maybe I just suck at unity. Hate to think that tho.

I think there's a big difference between, like, "it feels good to discuss common experiences with people who understand them" (extremely normal and fine), and "it is only safe to interact with people just like me and everyone else is trying to hurt me" (unhealthy and counterproductive).

Everyone wants to see themselves in the things they read and watch. Everyone wants to relate to other people.

And I mean, I created a discord server for Transmascs for this reason; there weren't really any spaces where transmascs could talk about transmasc experiences with each other, and the lack of any kind of transmasc "community" was very sorely felt. I guess you don't see it as much lately, and I'm so incredibly grateful for why that is- but a lot of the early conversations around this stuff talked about how being transmasc was considered shameful or regressive; it wasn't something we were supposed to find joy or pride in, and it wasn't something you were supposed to connect with other people about. And that did so much damage to transmascs! It made us isolated and lonely, and it made it so hard to talk about anything we were going through that we often bought into the lie that none of it was real, or important enough to discuss. Not to mention the impact on our ability to share and get relevant information or resources.

There's nothing wrong with needing some space to talk about shared experiences with people who get it- and I'd argue that this kind of space is deeply necessary. We don't need to give that up. That's not what unity is.

Unity is recognizing that other transmascs are not the only people we share common experiences with. We're not the only safe people, or the only people with talking to, or the only people we need to be fighting for.

It's good to connect to your community! Keep doing that! Take the time to grow your identity, connect to that part of yourself, and work to heal the ways in which that lack of connection has impacted you.

Just don't do it out of fear of the people who aren't just like you, and try not to limit yourself to one community, or one type of person, exclusively.

You are a multifaceted person, and even the trans community itself is incredibly diverse; you will likely find, if you take the time to listen, that a lot of transfems and unaligned nb folks share a lot of the same experiences, too! Even ones connected to manhood, masculinity, or our perceived inability to be autonomous.

And honestly, it sounds like you know all this already- and like you're maybe afraid you have the wrong intentions, or you might mess up, even if you're honestly just trying your best.

Feel free to disregard this bit if I'm wrong, but if I'm not: trust yourself. Trust that you do not have secret, evil intentions or hatred hidden even from yourself. Trust that if you mess up, you will do your best to correct it when you find out about it. You're doing fine, anon, you don't need to be hypervigilant about your own thoughts and feelings. And maybe you'll find that if you can work towards that goal, you'll start to worry a lot less about Becoming A Toxic Asshole for, like, correctly identifying the kernel of reasonable motivation that lead to someone else's wrong conclusion.

[utilitycaster]

as a reader I feel that both canon-has-disappointed-me-and-i-shall-make-everything-how-i-want-it-to-be and the kind that, as you say, explores canon themes at least somewhat on canon's own terms has value, but it depends on which fandom I'm looking at, how much / whether I'll indulge in the former. I'd never even consider looking for it re: Calamity for instance (haven't seen candela yet), but then there's canons I'll be happy to entirely disregard. I think maybe it changes with just how much I personally value the canon work of fiction as a work of art in and of itself. plus, if the art is shit, if it's valuable to me as a jumping off point only, I don't see why I should respect the integrity of the work like that.

it does suck to think that people think of Calamity the way I think about, like, the call of duty modern warfare reboot tho.

anyway. not disagreeing at all I just. you know, I felt vaguely called out because sometimes I do like that style of fic, but then I realised uuuh it's probably not about me.

Hey anon,

I know you sent a follow up saying I could delete this if I wanted, but I am actually not annoyed and I think this offers an opportunity to elaborate that I'd like to take.

I will note: I am pretty aware that I make posts that are very easy to take personally if you a person who likes the thing I dislike. They are, more often than not, posts about trends rather than any individual person; but that doesn't mean that an individual person participating in that trend won't feel called out. This probably won't help with those feelings, but while I'm ultimately just making posts about my opinions and what I like, I am not opposed to someone feeling called out and rethinking what they do, and if they come to the conclusion of "hey, utilitycaster is an opinionated asshole and I don't need her approval" that is valid (honestly, more valid than strangers feeling they are entitled to my approval) but it's also a not undesired outcome if someone says "oh, huh, this is a good point, what am I doing with my constant fluffy fix-it fics of things that are about grief and loss and tragedy."

Anyway what I actually wanted to cover is respecting the integrity of a work you don't care for. I don't actually care about the integrity of the art in transformative works! It's fic! The writers and authors do not care! But I also have never, ever seen the point of saying "I don't like what this work did so I want to spend more time in this space and make it do what I wanted." At most, I've picked apart what I thought was good about the premise before it went to shit and used it to inform my other writing or my meta but like...I've stripped it down for parts to the point that it's not even a little about that canon anymore. I steal the concepts for a cool magic system or a specific character trait and bring them to other creative endeavors but I do not associate it with that work anymore. I don't write fic for stories that I, at least at the time of initial writing, did not think were pretty good. If it sucks, I do, in fact, hit the bricks and stop spending time on it. The only scenario I can really concoct is like, a Game of Thrones situation in which someone familiar with both the show and the books writes an ending that is true to the themes of the books (and earlier themes of the show) and diverges before the steep decline); but that is a very specific situation. Even shows I enjoyed that I think ended poorly - even those that are widely agreed to have had bad endings (Battlestar Galactica; How I Met Your Mother; Rusty Quill Gaming) do not entice me to write a fix. It's not that I think the writers or creators did a good job that I am obligated to honor; I just don't see the point.

Fundamentally, I do not see fanfiction as wish fulfillment. I simply do not. Nor do I watch/read/listen to fiction with an end goal of writing or reading fanfiction. If it happens, it happens, but just as much as my post was about "hey, if you look at a tragedy that was made with intent, and you cannot exist with it and live with it and embrace it as such, that's perhaps not a great thing," it is also about being able to see fiction as a completed story that does not need you.

This isn't me saying fanfiction can't be good or enjoyable or isn't an art or a worthwhile pursuit. But I left out some tags from my post that I originally had there, which is that almost all the fanfic I've actually enjoyed has been from people who also write meta. It's written by people who are as comfortable following and listening, as they are leading and telling. And again, this isn't about the integrity of canon so much as the fact that I believe that if you (the general you, not you the anon) cannot read (watch, listen) without saying "how can I make this mine" your work will never be good. I think a lot of people write fanfiction in order to mark hypothetical territory, or get a good grade in ao3, or because Fic Writer is a part of their identity, rather than because they have something to say is best communicated through the medium of fanfiction. And that's their right - I cannot and will not stop them - but I don't care to read what they're writing.

[folliesandfolderols]

Writing prompts day 58-60

From this prompt list. If you’ve read this far, I’m not sure you need any explanation, but the short version is I hadn’t written any fiction since 2019, I set a goal to write at least 150 words/day in 2024, and this list was my way to restart. Also I abruptly decided on day 2 I would write an entire Tim/Damian story connecting all the prompts, because I am Good at Judging My Limits. /sarcasm Anyway, I finished the rough draft a while ago and am now unlocking the old entries as I edit.

Read from the beginning here, or on ao3 here

Day 57 here

***

96. "Oh, sensitive there, aren't we?"

***

Tim seriously considered going off planet again for the entirety of his patrol. But he couldn't help remember Damian accusing him of always running away when people called him on his bullshit, and he couldn't stand the thought of proving him right.

When he got home, he heated up leftovers and texted Kon. 

hey u up

His phone buzzed on the kitchen counter within seconds. 

this better not be a sext rob

Tim snorted. 

like i'd want to fuck u right after patrol with my sweaty ass anyway

hey kink tomato or whatever.  I don't judge. what's up

Tim sat at the table but instead of eating laid his forehead on the shiny wooden surface and groaned. He couldn't believe he was about to do this.

am i an asshole

of course, part of your charm, honestly. why do you ask??

Tim blew out a sigh. 

weird convo w this guy i've been fucking

oooooooohhhhhhhhh, all of a sudden the trip off-planet begins to make sense

Taking a bite of naan, Tim gave the screen a disgruntled frown. 

wtf does that mean

you like this dude. sorry cuz I'm sure this is news to you, but since Bernard you always question if you're a decent human whenever you start liking someone

Tim set the phone down, completely confused. What did he even mean, he liked Damian? Of course, Kon didn't know who it was so he was just speaking in generalities. But why would that make Tim question his worth as a person? He was only wondering because of what Damian had said.

After another minute, he responded by marking the text with a question mark. Kon sent 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🩷💜🩵🤡 then nothing else.

Tim went to bed and hoped things would make more sense in the morning.

***

They didn't.

He opened his eyes and his whole body hurt. Some of it was the normal post-patrol bumps and scrapes, but a lot of it was a series of reminders of what he had done with Damian. The scrapes on his hip, the hickey on his shoulder blade, the never-ending ache in his stomach and chest. And of course sitting down wasn't super comfortable either.

Tim ended up messaging his team at WE to let them know he was working from home and available for video calls, then spent the day sprawled on his belly while he was at his computer. He knew it was self-indulgent, but it was also prophylactic. When his internal state got this tumultuous, forcing himself to be around groups of people became so draining that he ended up strung out and despairing.

He slept better that night, and went into the office the next day, but he still felt off-kilter, like he was searching for his balance on a ship in the middle of a storm. A couple of his subordinates gave him concerned looks, and when Tam dropped in with a quick question she asked if he was all right. It was strange because when he checked his reflection his face just looked neutral. The idea of others being able to see what was going on inside his head made him seriously uncomfortable.

Fortunately, when he headed to the Cave to touch base with Bruce about some aspects of the human trafficking case that could use the Detective’s keen perspective, the best possible distraction was waiting for him.

Bruce turned in his office chair as soon as Tim exited the elevator, shoulders relaxed in a way they only got around a select few. Tim grinned at the sight of the man standing next to him.

“Dick!”

He flung himself at his older brother. Dick’s arms closed around him, and suddenly all Tim’s internal turmoil calmed like a switch had been flipped.

Dick’s voice vibrated through his chest, against Tim’s ear. “Hey, Tim. You doing all right?” He tightened his embrace when Tim didn’t pull away. He had been the first person ever who didn't make Tim feel he should let go before he became inconvenient, and sometimes it still felt like that was true. "Seriously, are you okay?"

Tim released him and turned away, suddenly embarrassed. If Dick could tell something was wrong that fast, then his self-control was pathetic. "I'm fine. Sorry. It's good to see you. I was gonna run some case stuff by Bruce if he had time, but you're busy, so—"

"Hey, no, wait." Dick shot out a hand and grabbed his arm.

Tim looked back fast enough to catch the tail end of a concerned glance exchanged between Dick and Bruce. What the fuck, pretty soon people were going to start thinking he couldn't handle his shit. He forced a smile that hopefully looked effortless. He lied to the goddamn Batman when he felt like it—surely he could pull this off. "What's up?"

"We weren't talking about anything important. What's the case? Maybe I can help too."

Wonderful. More pretending, full steam ahead. "That sounds great, thanks." He reached past Bruce to call up the relevant files. "I'm comparing financials here to see if I can use tax evasion as a means of forcing these two guys in the human trafficking ring we're investigating to want to trade information. But they look really clean, so I'm having a hard time tracing the outflow of their under-the-table income."

Bruce looked up at the monitors, gaze sharpening. "Show me where you've looked so far."

Dick pulled up a chair behind them and sat, opening two of the files in side-by-side windows on a tablet. Tim and Bruce opened the files and went through them line by line, scouring them for inconsistencies that could indicate the information they were seeking, while Dick appointed himself the task of eliminating the files Tim had deemed less likely possibilities.

When Dick's hand landed on his shoulder again, Tim blinked in startlement, seeing squares of light behind his eyelids. "What's wrong?"

"You've been sitting in one position for about two hours, buddy. You need to move." Dick grabbed his hand and hauled him up to standing.

Tim scoffed but followed him away from the computer toward the workout mats. “You need to move, you mean."

"Six of one, half a dozen of the other. C'mon, change and we can practice your acrobatics for a while. It'll be fun."

Tim wanted to ask where Damian was—usually he was impossible to rip from Dick's side when his older brother was visiting—but held his tongue. Now that Jason and Cass both were suspicious he couldn't afford to give anyone else more fodder for speculation. "I'll be right out."

Dick helped him stretch first, then they started floor exercises. They began with simple tumbling and then moved into the true acrobatics and flips.

Tim couldn't help feeling off-balance in more ways than one. He sighed in frustration after his third unsuccessful attempt to land a round off back handspring layout with his feet where Dick told him to be.

"What am I doing wrong?" he asked.

Dick showed him the video he'd taken after the most recent attempt, playing in slow-motion. "Your shoulders are dropping too soon as you rotate over—it's happening before your feet begin to drive over. Wherever your shoulders are when your feet begin the rotation is the highest point you're going to reach with your layout, so then you have to pike out of it and your feet aren't going where you want them. Plus it looks awkward as hell." He gave Tim a searching look. "You've nailed that one before. Sometimes when something's bothering us it can show up in what our body does if we don't choose to deal with it."

Tim sat on the mats with a huff and drew up his knees, resting his forearms on them. "Nothing's bothering me. I'm tired, that's all."

Sitting next to him, Dick bumped his shoulder with his own. "Tim, my guy, we all operate tired every day. It's our normal state. This is different. You're hurting."

He rested his hand on Tim's back for a second, landing right on the hickey Damian had left there. It was still a little sore, and Tim flinched, then immediately cursed internally at himself. He hid the reaction to things hitting his wounds all the time, but around Dick his guard was down too much.

And of course Dick had noticed. "Oh, sensitive there, aren't we? Did you get an injury?"

He made to lift up Tim's shirt and check his back, and Tim leaned away. "Dick, I'm fine. Seriously."

"Your shoulders are telling a different story. You’re in your head and so you’re not in your body. You don't have to tell me what it is, but I hope you tell somebody, because right now it's eating up too much of your attention."

Shaking his head, Tim played with a loose thread on his shorts and avoided looking at him. "It's stupid. I don't want to talk about it. I just feel . . ." He searched for the right term. How the hell did he feel? It was so hard to figure out. "I feel like a bad person."

There was a long moment of silence. When Dick spoke again, his words were careful. Measured. "Can you tell me what happened to make you feel that way? Did you let someone down?"

At least he hadn't patronized him by pretending he could never be a bad person. Tim shook his head again and pulled his knees against his chest. "I accidentally let someone know I don't fully trust him and it hurt his feelings. Like, really hurt, not kind of peeved or whatever. I didn't mean to do it but it sort of just happened."

"And this person is important?" At Tim's shrug, Dick asked, "Are there good reasons that you're not safe with him?" Tim opened his mouth to protest, but Dick cut him off. "If you don't trust him, it's because something about him doesn't feel safe to you. Is he a genuine threat?"

Tim kept his eyes locked on the thread. "No . . . I don’t know. I just know that now I feel sick all the time. And I have this weird phantom ache in my chest and my stomach. It feels kind of hollow there? And I can't catch my breath, like, my whole body keeps trying to curl up around the pain to protect itself and I have to fight to stand up straight. It's so weird, like emotional flu. At first I was wondering if maybe I got sick while I was in space but I think it's this thing between me and this guy. Anyway, all that to say, it's not surprising that you can tell something's wrong."

Dick reached for him again, and this time Tim let him pull him into a sideways hug. He still spoke in that same cautious meter. "I’m gonna be honest here, buddy. What you're describing sounds a lot like a broken heart. Haven't you felt this way before, like after a breakup?"

Tim used every bit of his willpower not to tense. "I haven't been dating him, though. We're barely friends. We can't have broken up because there's nothing to break."

"Well, first of all, friends have breakups too, you know this. But I'm kind of wondering if maybe he means more to you than you're willing to acknowledge. It could be that you need to look at the situation from a detective's perspective and see what conclusions you can draw from the evidence. Something that’s got your focus this skewed could affect things in the field. I want you to be safe, okay?"

Tim rested against him, relishing the solid reassurance of the embrace. "Sure, well, better retire then. Time to go corporate full-time."

With a snort of laughter, Dick let him go. "Yeah, right. Hey, have you seen Damian?"

And there it was. They couldn't talk too long about Tim without Damian somehow gaining center stage, even in absentia, although for whatever reason it stung less than usual this time. Tim still couldn't stop the sharp glance he gave Dick, but his older brother only looked inquiring. "No, sorry."

"Hmm." Dick shrugged. "Must've missed him. Hopefully he comes back before I leave." He turned on his heel and walked away, whistling.

Hustling in the direction of the showers, Tim kept his head down and hoped he'd been a better actor than he'd felt.

Days 62-69 redux here

[melodraca]

okay well. now that I know you also have an oc named Ash I would love to know more about them (it is indeed a cool af name)

OK so Ash is pretty high up there on my list of ocs that I adore (even if I haven't drawn her nearly as often as I ought to have) I don't want to reveal too many plot details/characterization due to a combination of spoilers and her still being in development, but....

She's from a cosmic horror story I started working on in high school that I'm still hoping to finish at some point! Ideally it'll be a webcomic, but that would also take a while, so who knows lol

Her backstory is vague and mysterious because she doesn't actually remember it. She remembers everything from up to a few years ago, but beyond that, everything starts to get fuzzy

She's a cool bisexual. She's a bad bitch. She comes in a package deal with the lamest guy ever (Jamison) do NOT separate them

No, like seriously. They can only be described as soulmates. They would die for each other. They can't live without each other. They're connected by something cosmic, and supernatural, and personal, and human, and beyond human, etc. They were made for each other. And it's great because Jamison is literally Just Some Guy.

They were also originally and slightly inspired by those two gay guys in the bathroom from Saw (2004), but not anymore though, they actually like each other now

In other words... Ash:

Also this (via catcrumb):

It's not even romantic. It's romantic-coded? I'm not even sure if I'd say queerplatonic. I never really describe whatever the fuck those two have going on in any specific terms in the story. I'm obsessed with m/f duos that are really close but not in a romantic relationship, because just saying "yeah they're in love, they're dating" is boring.

She's also kind of mean to him

She's kind of snarky and sarcastic, a bit of an asshole too. She's impulsive and has that "you only live once" type mentality. She's also charismatic, clever, and good with words

She plays by her own rules. She's rebellious and stubborn, and she HATES authority

Women are allowed to be little a scary. As a treat

Her and Jamison, along with a few other characters, are the only people who can see the [redacted] that are starting to breach into their world. Their task? Tracking down and finding anomalies and aberrations while they try to piece together the bigger picture of the potentially apocalyptic event that is happening in their city

She's pretty chill about it. Her main goal is to try and remember her past, and to make sense of the nightmares and the fuzzy, vague traumatic memories that ceaselessly haunt her

I don't really have any of good art of her, but I do have a few frames from the forbidden (OLD AS HELL) animatic short film she first originated from

(Note that literally nothing from the plot of this short film is still canon to them, which is kind of awesome)

[a-weird-writer]

What do you think it would happen if Game! Terra meet Gigamix! Terra?

Nothing good.

Terra is a jerk to the point where he barely tolerates himself, I doubt Terra would like it if he ever met a counterpart, no matter which timeline he originates from.

Spoiler Warning (Mega Man Archie Comics; Ra Moon & Stardroid arcs), mentions of gore, war, genocide & homicidal jerk behavior from Terra's end

Game!Terra is a major downgrade from Gigamix, the bars from there are all low to be honest. Don't get me wrong. Terra's entire role in the game-Archie as well-is pretty dark for Capcom's standards in the eyes of the real world. But not as dark as Argia's characterization of him portrayed.

Game!Terra is much more moderate and eased. Not to mention far less apocalyptic and fairly tame.

Gigamix!Terra is another story; in every single way you can think of. Psychopathic; no humanity with violent tendencies and motivations. Genocide isn't even the tip of the iceberg; only one phase of a multi-stepped plan, bringing Earth's inhabitants toward a deserved demise.

It won't stop at that. Oh no, Gigamix!Terra barely just begun; chaos will rain, despair shall infect the Earth at core, and Terra will view it all; the end of humanity, the devastating death of Earth. And he will laugh.

Gigamix!Terra will watch, look upon the insects in evil glee as disorder quakes Earth's balance of nature off the axis. At peace with what he is, and what he is meant to do; destroy. Completely, utterly obsessed over destruction and pure devastation. His infernal hatred of life in general keeps his motivation at peck performance.

While Game!Terra is sociopathic at worst, he held some symbiose of a bond, a fondness for family. His brothers are highly regarded, a respected group of powerful forces not to be reckoned. Fast and strong, too good to be true. Better than tools, more than their bodies give. Cleaner then trash to throw away when Game!Terra finishes.

He is a great team leader, an experienced strategist in extraordinary war planning. Demanding but respectful, strict but mindful of their foes as they jump into battle. Game!Terra knows just what to say to bring his brother's minds together and fight as a single opposing calamity.

Dare say he cares for their safety (I'd say he cares for the Kuiper droids too. A basketball coach would for his team, one he trained til he could no longer sweat, pieced together day and night.)

Yes, Game!Terra is still an asshole; will kill, will destroy. Capable of berating and insulting others who don't deserve it, beneath him in knowledge and force. Given his line of work, that is predictable.

In the end, from how its put, he fulfills his position; a weaker servant to Sunstar. A world-conquering servant, laying patient underneath his great master. A job he is devoted too.

Violence aside, Game!Terra isn't nearly as incredibly extreme compared to his Gigamix version. Game!Terra is still selfish as hell, boundless in his strictness. But at least he contains some glimpses of humane emotions.

Brief as it is, its there.

Despite everything, Game!Terra cares for his brothers, nonetheless. As much so as a true brother would, looking after his family. He values them; hears their opinions, knows their efforts, respects their strength and works together in a common goal. He relates to the burdens, to any pain they may suffer. Training to look beyond weakness, exploit to adapt.

Most importantly, I feel like I should state this as clear as possible:

Game!Terra wants to rule Earth, not erase it.

-

Meanwhile Gigamix!Terra can't make it more obvious how much he fucking hates Earth and the universe.

Ok, seriously. Back to violence again.

He is out here floating in Earth's orbit, all crazy smiles like a motherfucker. Declaring war not only to robots, not only to humanity. But literally Earth itself.

Look at this bitch. Think he gives any fucks? Any shits?

If you said "yes" you're lying.

This pale ass bitch couldn't give a shit about anything. Especially when it comes down his own brothers, he doesn't even regard them as true siblings in some English translations of the Gigamix manga if we are really stretching the line paper thin.

Do I even need to talk about the stupid eyeball scene?!

Gigamix!Terra is horrible and terrifying. His brothers-oh no sorry, let me correct myself. His brethren are mere subordinates; soldiers meant to die doing as they were made to do. Tools to be used in Gigamix!Terra's plans to destroy the Earth.

It seems not much of a difference but given these are the Stardroids from 2 vastly separate worlds, I deem it very notable.

-

But back on the topic of your question, I really really can't see them getting along good.

I see Gigamix!Terra being kind of baffled at first, but then grows owl-like curiosity. You'd be pretty interested in meaning another version of yourself if you lived in the same timeline.

But that doesn't make Gigamix!Terra any less fucking creepy. A blank, blinkless stare and a harmless head tilt wearing a sinister smirk that doesn't reach his eyes.

Not surprised that different versions of him exist, existence is filled with different, limitless possibilities. It's a big world, just with small people. Interesting, this quite unexpected union. Fairly intrigued upon seeing an in-game self.

If Game!Terra lives then how many others are out there? None Gigamix!Terra bothers counting.

Their meeting will be less then friendly, however. No pleasantries, just empty stares, empty words. Tension will fill the air between, distrust and a dramatic show of their so similar powers. They are predators, equipped with flawless, apex senses and speed. Daring the other, their strange twin to move first, spark the inevitable battle. An aura of conflict, a heavy weight. Total unrest from Game!Terra's end, refusing to unveil any type of vulnerability. No one knows you better then yourself; thoughts, emotions and innermost turmoil.

It's a living joke, a possibility born from another impossibility. And they await the other to laugh. To call "sike", a signal for the illusion to fall flat. It doesn't happen, much to their displeasure. They view each other as potential threats, and almost groan in annoyance. More enemies to deal with in the future, more stupid problems to sweep under the rug.

Sure, they talk. Nothing wrong with a little chit-chat to learn about the other's intentions, mysterious as these weird circumstances are. Could be worse, they both know better. But the tension only worsens after Gigamix!Terra learns his in-game counterpart deals with planets and the weaklings differently...

a lot differently.

The silence is deafening. But then, it finally breaks. Something happens, slicing the insufferable quiet in half.

Gigamix!Terra laughs, quite literally at himself.

It's hilarious that this...

broken, weaker version of himself actually exists.

...

(I'm sure you can brainstorm some guesses about what happens next.)

[springcatalyst]

*banging on your door* I'D LIKE TO HEAR ABOUT JULIAN, LILIANA, UND BROOKE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE.

What are their final thoughts in the dark silence of night before they sleep? How do they sleep?

How do they choose their clothes when purchasing and dressing?

What is a fear that they cannot pull themselves away from? They need it, and they hate it.

OMG HELLO HI HELLOOOOOOOO i am taking ur coat like a victorian gentleman and inviting u inside.  These are so specific and dramatic i love

AHEM

-

Sleep, rather, the moments right before it, is when a person is at their truest.  You can’t really hide from it.  So those final thoughts are typically a lens into the basal forms that make up a character.

Liliana is a character that’s very true, very genuine, so her sleeping mind doesn’t show much that you wouldn’t expect, because there’s not a lot that she hides, at least not from herself.  She’s obsessive: stuck (though ‘stuck’ implies that she’s here by some force other than her own) in this quest that she’s been trailing for years, getting closer but not in any way that’s tangible.  She goes to sleep with ‘what next’ floating around in her skull, and dreams of a goal reached.  And she sleeps like the dead, but only because she puts it off for as long as she can.  Not that she avoids sleep itself, though, rather she stays up and works until she can’t stay upright anymore.  She is laser-focused, set on her task.  It can benefit her, in certain conditions, but mostly it leaves her running on so little sleep she has trouble functioning. Her being a satyr means her sleep schedule doesn’t quite align with a ‘typical’ one anyway, but she definitely fucks it more and also that’s not set in stone atm.

Julian, on the other hand, is a liar and he hides just about everything about himself, including from himself.  Julian and Liliana are similar in a lot of ways but this is not one of them.  So his unconscious truth doesn’t always align with what he appears to be.  It’s careful.  It’s somatic: a sort of ‘is the door locked is the knife within reach is the cane by the bed,’ but it’s also theoretical: more a ‘who here do I trust (in the most basic sense of the word) or who do I watch out for.’  He absolutely is the impulsive asshole he looks like, but the little bit of careful caution that remains beneath plays a role in his continued safety (relatively speaking).  Julian is also a pretty light sleeper, growing up with five siblings (lmao) there’s a good amount of noise in the mornings or if something is wrong at night, so he’s just kind of grown accustomed to waking up, even if it’s that barely-awake state, to evaluate the noise.  And he rises with the sun- mostly old habit, but it’s also convenient for guaranteeing some time unobserved, for safety or just for some quiet.

Brooke is different in that the thing that follows her into sleep isn’t as much a thought as it is a feeling.  Brooke spends a lot of time busy, not necessarily with the intent of keeping her mind securely in the present, but that’s the effect it has, no matter.  So when she isn’t doing something- following or fighting or helping or hurting -she gets that little moment of quiet calm and it’s occupied by guilt.  The weight of it kind of lingers above her, the knowledge of what she was a part of, the remembrance of what she’s constantly trying to undo.  Brooke lives in the shadow of a debt to repay, and it catches up to her when she has a moment of still.  She is an uneasy sleeper, heavy to the ongoings of the waking world, but she rarely sleeps straight through the night, nevertheless.  She doesn’t dream, just wakes with the feeling that she did, even as it evades her. 

-

I feel like this is already so long and that’s just the first thing but like, you gave me the opportunity so I’m taking it <3.  Choice of fashion is a little less dramatic but I’m sure I’ll find a way to make it anyway.  Clothing basically serves three functions: utility, expression, and comfort.  For the sake of character designs I usually focus on the first two unless it’s particularly relevant, which it isn’t for these three so much. 

Brooke is mostly utility.  She has casualwear, of course, but honestly I haven’t really designed much of it and usually just draw her in her armor.  Which is pretty obviously utile, but it’s also familiar.  She keeps this leather armor, embossed around the edges (that I’ll actually design and make mean something eventually but... not yet apparently) and either similar or just the same to the kind she wore with her family, their guild.  Familiar isn’t always a good thing, but it’s all she knows.  If I’m being real she’s still being developed, especially storyline specifics, so not a lot is decided.  I’ve thought about switching around the colors, the blue I typically give her can be a changed version, removed from its ties to before, which was maybe a gold or a purple, something more implicative of importance.  Or of having her rid herself of the armor completely, so caught up in breaking her bonds that she makes herself vulnerable... but I’m a little too attached to how the armor looks... basically, she’s just balancing the safety of utility with the unrest of something recognizably hunter. 

Liliana is mostly expression.  She doesn’t need anything particular from her clothes, so chooses what makes her feel good.  Nothing too extravagant, because she is still wrecking shit and needs to not be hindered by what she’s wearing, but she dresses to look good and be scary, when the need arises.  She wears dresses and skirts despite the fact that, as a satyr, she really doesn’t... need to?  Because satyrs, post-cataclysm, live closely tied with humans in particular, though fauns as well, depending on locale, and as such have absorbed some social elements of theirs- like clothing and gender norms.  She abides by those norms, gender in particular (to a certain degree), not because she has to but because she wants to- because, you know, trans.  She carries a good amount of things with her on average- swords and knives and lockpicks and money and various other whathaveyous -but rarely carries them all at once, taking them on or off her person whenever she thinks she may or may not need them, but her belt remains on no matter, because that’s what she needs to have any of them at all.  Her compass, too, stays on her at all times, but that’s more sentimentality than use. 

Julian is a bit of both, but with him, a lot of the expression melts over into utility.  The puffy shirts, while inherently pirate out-of-universe, are conveniently the opposite of form-fitting.  They make him look bigger than he is like a cat puffing out, but also hide, you know, trans.  Typically they’re white or otherwise lightly colored, because it’s cheap and function-over-form, but later era when he’s particularly full of himself he trends towards darker colors and black.  Black, as a dye, is expensive to make, so wearing it is a way of making it clear that he is either important or dangerous or both- he strives to command respect or fear and it doesn’t always matter which.  Julian, like Liliana, also carries some stuff with him, but the difference is that he has less, and so almost always has all of them.  The exception is his sword, which is bulky enough to always have that unless he for sure needs it, he’ll leave it in favor of a knife (or two, counting the one in his cane).  And because his right hand is typically occupied by his cane, his things are all strapped to his left, another reason he doesn’t always carry the sword- it gets in the way.  Finally, depending where storyline-wise he is, he wears a couple little gold earrings- mark of a pirate.  Been considering having it be a status thing, too: one for crewmate, two for first mate, three for captain, or something similar. 

-

Fear is a really interesting one.  I dig where you’re going with it, and I’m sure I’m about to exhibit some mental illness, but like, fear is possibly one of the most important things in a character, because it’s what’s really behind at least 90% of a characters’ motivations, isn’t it?

Gotta start with Julian for this one.  He is afraid of a thousand entwined things in a way he will never admit and might not even be aware of.  The way he is perceived is so important to him that he lives with the constant threat of what he’s built for himself being taken away.  He’s so... I can’t call him exactly fake, because it’s not all false... he’s so constructed.  Everything he is, is exaggerated.  He is angry, and impulsive, and fast and rude and detached, but the way those things are presented is curated to be viewed in the way that he wants it to be.  And because of that, because everything he is is built on a not-quite-lie not-quite-truth, he runs the risk of having it all crash down around him.  That’s what follows him: the fear of being seen past it all, because he thinks that with that, he’ll end up right back where he was before.  Not to be too insane but in my silly little character.doc that I have for fun there’s this segment that’s pretty much what I just said:

He is afraid of no longer being taken seriously

He is afraid of losing the image he has created

He is afraid of trust being broken and secrets getting out

He is afraid of being patronized or the subject of pity

He would have you believe he is afraid of nothing

Liliana, now that I’m thinking about it, is actually pretty similar to him.  I didn’t even do this one on purpose oops.  Her difference, though, is that what she is isn’t fake.  She has this legacy, this name, that she reigns- people know of her, she commands that same respect or fear that Julian has to try so hard to.  Part of that, though, is taken from her.  She has her... I don’t want to call it a birthright, because that sounds entitled, but she has her birthright, then it’s stolen from her, and she rebuilds it even as she is on a hunt to reclaim it.  And so her fear stems from the possibility of failure.  If she never reaches her goal, if she truly loses what should never have been taken in the first place, then it’s all been for nothing, not only her work, but her father’s.  And the longer she goes without reaching that finish line, the more she is afraid of ‘what if it’s too late’ and ‘maybe it’s already over.’  Because her failure is also his, what she’d lose is also his, and that’s worse than if she just failed herself, because she feels the need to honor what he built, what he left, and what he was, in his absence.

Brooke is afraid of exactly what you’d expect.  A thousand what you’ve done’s follow her.  She terrified of never making it right, of the possibility of her wrongs being something that she never can make right.  She made a vow and she intends with all her being to keep it, but there is no endgoal, there is no ‘finished.’  It’s constant, and as such the constant threat of failure, of breaking that promise, whether by action or inaction, stays with her.  She lives with it for so long that it begins to leech into her, more than it already was, so it becomes what drives her.  But also... it’s what’s always driven her.  For a long time, she’s driven more by what’s behind her than what’s before her, and all that does is make her steep in this guilt and fear, fighting for a repentance that she doesn’t even know if she deserves. 

-

Okay I’m done being insane now, I hope my fucked up little guys provide enrichment to your enclosure but either way you’ve given me the GIFT of LETTING ME BE ANNOYING so THANK U AGAIN BESTIE. KISSING U KISSING U KISSING U KISSING U K

[project-sour-grapes]

New New Leaf

I got a new job as a software engineer in a neuro imaging lab. There is a giant quote pasted on the wall of my jiu jitsu gym that says, "If you're looking for a big opportunity, accept a big challenge." This is definitely one of those moments.

I have been honing my cybersecurity skills and filling in all of the holes of my knowledge. I have been learning pentesting and how to actually make webservers and databases from scratch like I should have learned 10 years ago. Oh well. The second best time to plant a tree is today. I am feeling stupid constantly, but there's another quote that, "The person who asks a question is a fool for a minute; the person who nevers asks is a fool for a lifetime."

I don't know who the fuck these quotes are from.

On another note, the hospital that I currently work is an awful environment and the hospital itself is failing. I'm on the fence about staying per-diem and just working a few Sundays a month, given that the new engineer job is 9-5 Mon-Fri (versus leaving and being free of that toxic place). Staying would help me meet my financial goals on a steadier cadence, and it would probably give me just enough people interaction to scratch the patient care itch. But fuck, the environment makes me really despise people. I'm trying to balance the idea of, "The world is a mirror, not a window," with the fact that emergency medicine is a circus, and that remaining as the tiny bug under the foot of the wobbly chair that Dr. Elephant, MD, is balancing on is a psycho-socioeconomic deathwish. Is the brokenness of a system an acceptable reason to quit?

The thing I'm really trying to balance is my ability to tell myself when I'm being a whiny, little bitch with seeing others through that same lens and not being able to voice, "Hey, you're being a whiny, little bitch" (ergo, my patients). How can a person have one framework for themselves and then not get mad at others who hold themselves to a lower standard? Why am I wiping your ass, because you've been in our ER shitting yourself once every week since 2020, because you do street drugs instead of taking your seizure medication? But with this cynicism and anger, I don't have energy left over for good patients. Then I'm like every other person working in healthcare, who I swore I would never be like. Now what? There are 500,000 assholes who work in healthcare. Should I be number 500,001?

Back to systems being broken: every system is broken. If I think I should only have a career in a non-broken industry, I should go fuck myself, because I won't find one. On top of that, if a system isn't broken, would there be any improvement to be made? I would get bored and leave anyway. The system wouldn't need me. Or I'd be replaceable by any other goofball who can keep the system humming, and I always leave jobs like that.

The stopping point that I hit with jobs in broken systems is that I feel crushed by incompetent people who have more power than I do: asshole paramedics, patronizing nurses who treat their patients like shit, doctors who couldn't pass a Neuroscience 101 class. I watch them treat others like garbage, and I feel a limit on what I can do as a tech to say, "YOU ARE TREATING YOUR PATIENT LIKE GARBAGE." Or in other terms, "VERY TACTFULLY GO FUCK YOURSELF." But the REAL real issue is my own competence and position. The problem is MY refusal to become something, to sit down and study to be in their position and do it better. And I don't even have to go to paramedic, or nursing, or medical school. I am fully capable of sitting and learning everything that they know with all of the free textbooks and learning materials online. I just choose not to.

And it's not a question of whether I'm going to become a medic or a doctor (definitely not a fucking nurse, I swear to fuck). It's a question of--whatever I decide to do--am I going to do the fuck out of it or not? If I do this new engineering job, am I going to do it 200% or not? If I keep some per-diem hospital shifts on Sundays, am I going to take care of my patients 200% or not? Am I going to keep learning and growing and sharing what I've learned with others? Am I going to be a steward of medicine and science in every capacity that I can? Or not? Am I going to be a little bitch?

But we can't forget the healthcare paradox, where doctors, nurses, and medics work and study for 50-100 hours a week to become something and yet have to pay lip service to patients who refuse to take action to improve themselves. How can one empathize with the other for long?

I don't know what to do here. I can't run away from the question. That is what I have been doing in various ways for a decade (at least, the larger question of balancing competitiveness with caring for others).

I don't know. I'm sounding whiny. Gonna go for a run.

[dearyallfrommatt]

A hole that's never to be filled.

A friend of mine's dog is dying. He and his husband are having his wiener dog put down later today as his advanced age has made his many infirmities too much to bear. It happens.

I've known this guy on the internet for as long as Waf's been in the picture. We knew each other way back in the days when blogs were the place to be an absolute asshole to people who can't slap you. Liberal politics, but we had a good bit in common. Two weirdos from the worst the rural South had to offer in the '80s.

The way my friend talks, as much as a square peg I was, his was way worse on account of being gay and I can't argue with him. He's pulled a full-on Thomas Wolfe and lives with his husband in the Big Apple. What love I have for my little village's corner of the world I do not push on him nor does he pull.

I wish I had something better to say to him. Otis was probably the last thing that kept me hanging on. He died and I quit writing my news blog, I quit messing around with harmonicas or paying attention to music, and I really quit giving too much of a shit about what previously grabbed my attention.

Namely, politics and video games. Video games became mere background noise like bad movies and Lovecraft pastiches of dubious quality, so that's a story for another time. Once I get my head wrapped around it, I'll get back to you.

As for politics, well, I'm just tired. We've had a microscope on the American Political Machine - including the media, all media, that coves said machine - and I really don't think we've learned a single thing. Not about how the government works or what the media is even supposed to be, nothing. I hate to be almost cliched, but look who's running for president come November and ponder the important issues of the day, and tell me we - as a culture, as a people, as a nation - have learned a goddamn thing.

But so much for all that. The end came and for once in my life, I didn't try to grind it out until it started to work. No one read my news blog except for my brother for news about Mississippi and my ex whenever Facebook reminded her. I never received one response and none of my visitors were able to convince me they weren't digital ephemera.

Maybe losing Otis gave me an excuse. I quit the gym not long after because I wasn't able to make myself go. I quit talking to both my therapist and the pysch doc because I'm tired of talking to people, especially about my general depression and the specific disinclination to hang around longer than necessary. Hell, it was around this time my teeth passed the point of no return. Keep up your orthodontal health, brethren.

The therapist asked me to come up with three reasons to stay in this world and I could only come up with Momma and Otis. The dog, of course, is easy. I took him on a responsibility and never found anyone better to take over the job. As for Momma, well, as rough as her life has been - and rougher than it needed to be for anyone and for no good reason - I figure she didn't need to spend her declining years wondering why her eldest son and favored child couldn't stay in this life anymore and what she did to cause it. It ain't her fault, but you know how mommas are.

But that's all I've got. It's recently occurred to me that my lifelong restlessness - always stymied by my fathomless laziness - is because I've never really had any ambition or goals or, really, dreams. The whole writing thing is partly ego and mostly because it's the first thing I ever did that someone told me, "Damn, Matt, that's really good." Otherwise, man, I just like to read and thought it'd be an easy gig.

Called that one wrong. Pay attention to your Uncle Matt, kids. Always remember that no matter what you do, the bills have to be paid and they never stop. Just something to consider.

But these days? It occurred to me that I have the perfect set-up. Someone's paying my bills and I am finally free to do... what? If there was something I wanted to do, I'd be doing it. If there was somewhere I wanted to be, I'd be there. If there was someone I wanted to be with, I'd be with them.

There isn't. There aren't any stories I want to tell, either, and since there's nowhere I want to go and no one I want to talk to - and I don't want to talk to anyone about anything anyway - I'm not getting any stories to tell. I really should sit Momma down and make her tell me the History of Peaceful Valley (According to Mr. & Mrs. C. B---). If nothing else, it'd be colorful and with her, it's gone forever.

But I just don't care. I don't care what I eat for supper tonight. The next book, the next game, the next movie, the next documentary, the next bowl, it's all static to drown out the dark voices in my head. I don't care what my brother does with the current jigsaw puzzle of his life. I trust him, he's smarter than me, and he'll do the right thing for him, so luckily, I don't have to care.

I care about making Momma happy and basically, all I have to do there is be pleasant and unproblematic. That's a chore in itself, I don't know if I could manage much else. I guess I should count my blessings that no one is asking anything out of me. It's lonely but I'm used to lonesome.

[therealeagal]

Thoughts on: the end justifies the means

Decide for yourselves whether my words have value or if they are naught but the ravings of a madman.

Whichever you decide, don't @ me, bro. I'm not here to debate. Just to pontificate.

Let's begin.

Does the end truly justify the means? In other words, if the goal is something "desirable" and "good", might we engage in methods that are otherwise deemed "undesirable" and "bad"?

If you want to be a superhero who fights the bad guys and doesn't afraid of anything, but who also needs to have plausible deniability so that you can get at the villains in ways that the public doesn't need to know about, how acceptable is it to use your children as black ops agents and send them on dangerous missions where they might get murdered and dissected?

If you want to save a city, is it acceptable to sell your soul to a devil to do so?

If you want to bring your friend back to life, is it acceptable to threaten the life of a grievously injured girl so that the cat/human/ant hybrid that is healing her will instead heal your friend?

If you want to save your sister, how justified are you in using the power of a wish granting monster to threaten the lives of the rest of your family if they want to keep her locked away where the wish granting monster can't cause any collateral damage (the wish granting monster is possessing your sister)?

If you want to avenge your unjust imprisonment and/or your mother's murder many years down the line, how justified are you in using your magic water controlling powers on people who live in the same country as your captor and/or the murderer? What if the people you're using your magic water controlling powers on in this scenario also happen to work for a hostile military force?

If the leaders of the country next door shoot a few (dozen?) rockets at you, how justified is it to start killing their citizens? What if the other guys are using human shields? What if they're hiding in a hospital? Is it ok to blow up the hospital to get at the terrorists? Perhaps you can put an embargo on aid - food and water and medical supplies and stuff and junk - to the city where most of the combat is taking place. I don't know, just spitballing.

If a country is being an asshole and you want to end a war without having to accept any conditions for their surrender, is it acceptable to, say, drop a nuclear bomb on two of its cities?

What's the maximum amount of children that need to die to insure eternal world peace and happiness for all for all of eternity until the heat death of the universe before it becomes too many?

So does the ends justify the means? Does it? Does it really? Really really? Really really really? Really really really really? Really really really really really? Really really really really really really really? I could go on, but I won't.

Well, if you were to ask me, I'd say that the answer is an extremely qualified yes. The end very much does justify the means. You can't make an omelette without breaking a few eggs, after all.

Kill your family to save your sister and the wish granting monster. Your family are assassins anyway. Fuck them.

Use your children as black ops agents. You're already a vigilante. What's one more crime on top if it means the bad guy can't sell out the human race to aliens?

Use your magic water controlling powers as much or as little as you desire, on anyone and everyone who so little as looks at you funny until you and no one but you yourself judge your vengeance to be well and truly wrought. You are the moral pillar of your friend group. If you're doing it it by definition can't be wrong. Like automatically.

But the yes is qualified. Meaning it has conditions to be met before it counts as yes. Let's really low ball it and say there are only two conditions to discuss in determining whether it counts:

1: Are we talking in terms of the idealistic or the practical?

Idealistically, no. Idealistically, there is right, there is wrong and there is nothing in between. Doing wrong is always wrong, no exceptions, not now, not ever. Idealistically.

Practically speaking, yes. Obviously. The world's not black and white. How trite. I'm a poet and I didn't even know it.

Of course, that just recursively loops back to the subject of qualifications, so make of it what you will.

-> Give you an example. Murder. How justified is murder? What if it is carried out by a train full of people on one man, who then try to subsequently kill the man investigating the murder? What if the guy that was murdered was himself a murderer? What if he killed a little girl and got away with it?

Is that justice? I don't know. You tell me.

2: Is your justification sincere (irrespective of its validity) or are you, just for the sake of example, invading a country using the pretext of fighting terrorism that originated in a wholly different country - which fact literally everyone is fully aware of - in order to commandeer their valuable natural resources without having to pay for it?

So anyway, if your justification is sincere, then there can at least be some discussion. I mean, you're probably still wrong. But simply dismissing you out of hand is unproductive. If there's a chance, however small, that you might be swayed over to the right side of things, we owe it to everyone to take that chance. Give you an opportunity to own up to your mistakes.

But if it's the second one, then you'll land firmly in the "no slack" category, and you are disqualified from the yes forever.

Give you an example, that thing I said before about the rockets and the hospitals. Even if terrorists were hiding in the hospitals, I'm pretty sure that it's against international law to attack hospitals. And you're a smart cookie. Smart enough to know this fact. Conclusion, you're lying. You're lying about the terrorists. Or at best, you're not lying but otherwise just don't care about civilian casualties.

So you see, my children that life is full of interesting philosophical questions and in the pursuit of these questions I can pretend to be smarter than I am display just how incredibly brilliant I am.

Lo my mind is like unto the sun where the minds of humanity's greatest are but candles. You may worship me now.

[hawkinsschoolcounselor]

Hi hi! I'm glad you're well, except for the commute (oof). If you haven't done this already, I'd love to hear thoughts from you about Brenner. First of all, how does someone like him live with doing the sort of things he's done? Also, with him being "papa" to El in her early life, how well would you say stories of why abusive parents abuse, and how they understand what they're doing, fit to understanding Brenner's behavior and mind? (I hope that all makes sense?) Thanks! and have a good one! ^_^

Ok, you’ve been waiting for this one for quite some time. I apologize. It’s been hard to stay motivated between all the stress of the past year and the lack of fresh Stranger Things content. You’ve put forth a very thought-provoking question, as it really demands that I get into the question of human behavior and why anyone does anything, let alone something that many would see as horrible.

Too often, people like to write certain people off as “just plain evil.” This is a problematic argument, however, as it avoids any exploration as to why something might have happened. If we don’t understand the root of a given behavior, we leave ourselves open to it happening again. Brenner isn’t evil, but only because “evil” is a social construct that isn’t naturally occurring. Brenner himself would certainly give all sorts of justifications for his actions, and that is the real issue here. A stereotypically “evil” person would know he is doing wrong, and either not care or enjoy it.

Brenner doesn’t see anything wrong with what he’s done. He may know it’s illegal, even unethical, but he sees himself as doing something great. Those who are hurt along the way are simply the cost of doing business, for lack of a better term. He has little, if any, remorse for his actions. Everything is justifiable to him if it works towards his goals. What are his goals? First, to achieve greatness. Second, to have his greatness known. The closest he gets to caring for something other than himself is his desire to defeat the Russians, but that may well be driven by his desire for greatness rather than a desire to help his country. He’s not out to hurt anyone, but he cares little if that’s what it takes.

What this shows is a disregard for the rights of others, along with the previously mentioned lack of remorse. This is where an evil argument can be made, since it creates a situation where he quite simply seeing others as lesser than himself. This is what leads to people treating others as subhuman and expendable. Most people, even when put into a situation that requires decisions that can result in others being seriously hurt or killed, will struggle with it. It’s the sort of thing that would haunt the average person, even if they tried to rationalize it away, at least until they became desensitized to it.

We get no sense that Brenner himself was simply broken down until this emotionally detached person was all that was left. There’s no indication that he came into his research as someone with ethical standards, but got disillusioned over time. Everything we see in Stranger Things, as well as the supplemental materials, tells us that this is basically Brenner’s modus operandi. Any display of emotion from him is simply part of a greater strategy of manipulation. He tricks his subjects into thinking he cares for them, and, especially with the children, grooms them to see him as a father figure whom they will wish to please.

Using Brenner as an exploration of abusive parents is a bit dicey, as his parental status is essentially fake. God willing, he has no actual children. Still, it can work as a sort of metaphor, I suppose. An abusive parent would behave similarly, unrealistic elements of the series aside, in that I’d wager that abusive parents rarely see themselves as abusive. I don’t have any research handy for this, but, anecdotally, people take on traits of their parents (and other significant people in their lives growing up). The cycle of abuse is not a conscious choice that people make, and this is what makes it difficult to break. Billy was abusive because Neil was abusive. Billy started to see Neil’s methods as the only way to 1) be safe and 2) get what you want. Neil’s abuse of Billy likely decreased in frequency and severity as Billy took on traits that Neil appreciated. This reinforced the behavior in Billy, turning him into a carbon copy of the man he hated. Billy also likely harbored a great hatred of himself, assuming he had moments where he was able to clearly see the person had become. Abusive parents, particularly those who had been abused, would likely have a similar sense of shame once the defense mechanisms stop protecting them from their own behavior.

I’m not sure Brenner would feel ashamed of himself, though. Even if someone, somehow stripped away his delusions of grandeur, arrogance, and claims of the ends justifying the means, there’s no reason to believe that Brenner would have a Heel Realization. He’s not a Well-Intentioned Extremist or He Who Fights Monsters who simply needs to be put down. The man is a sociopath. He doesn’t value others enough to have any genuine emotional attachment with them. If you watch his scenes with El, you can actually see that any reactions he has are due to the results of his experiments with her. His emotional attachments are centered on his work. These people are subjects to him, merely nameless numbers. Their names only exist to allow him to put up a paternal front, so they feel compelled to obey and desire to please him.

I think a better look at abusive parents in Stranger Things would be with Neil or Lonnie. They’re both horrible people, but at least tried to be parents in their own twisted way. If we use the story of Lonnie taking Jonathan hunting to illustrate parenting, we can sort of see the differences. A good dad would see his son is upset and end the hunting trip. An abusive dad, like Lonnie, would make his kid do it anyway because he thought it’d toughen his son up and because he cared more about what other people thought than how his son felt. Brenner tried to make El kill a rabbit just to see if she could, so she can be a weapon.

Lonnie was a selfish abusive asshole, but Brenner was only ever in it for himself. El would have been killed or locked away in an asylum if her powers never developed. It takes a lot to come across as worse than Lonnie, but, hey, there’s always a bigger fish.

[eryiss]

Summary: Freed and Gajeel were total opposites in every way, only connected by the guild. When they were forced to train together under Makarov's orders, they expected antagonism and mistrust. Instead, they were given a lesson in how quickly opposition can turn to attraction. The issue: let the budding relationship simmer away, or let it explode. [Freed x Gajeel Multi-chapter]

Notes: Hey everyone, welcome to the last chapter. Thank you so much for reading through this. I know it’s a crack ship and not everyone’s cup of tea, but I really enjoyed writing it. I hope you all enjoyed it :)

Links: FFN, Ao3, Chapter List

Chapter Ten - Moving Forward

Two Weeks Later

"You feelin' okay?"

That was a loaded question, and one Freed wasn't yet ready to deal with. He and Gajeel were walking from the guildhall infirmary side by side, the first time that Freed had been outside since his demon had left him. It was mid morning and an entirely pleasant day, and Freed found himself angry at the sun beating down on them both. If it were raining or stormy then at least it would feel appropriate for his mood.

A cane. For the rest of his life, he would need a cane.

In terms of a mage's possible injuries, ending up with a cane wasn't much to complain about. People had been killed, mutilated and injured beyond recovery, so having to walk with a cane was hardly the worst that could happen. But every time he thought about it, Freed could only see a future limited by a piece of wood he would need to lean on.

The demon, it seemed, wasn't only eating away at his soul. It had slowly been sapping away at his energy both physical and magical, and the effect was more physical than Porlyiusca had thought. Porlyusica had said that, though she didn't know how long it would take, the demon would have eventually started to make Freed wither if it had been left to stay inside of him. The issue had been that, as the demon was being dragged from his soul, it's influence had exploded and affected Freed greatly, particularly in his lower right leg.

Porlyusica had said the influence had been like an ocean, slowly wearing away the coast. But as the demon was taken, it had turned into a tsunami.

He had been assured that the injury wasn't life threatening, and it was something that he could more-or-less get passed. Eventually, he would manage to bring the strength back to his leg, and when that happened the cane would only be a precaution for the occasional moments where the injury flared back up. Apparently he would be able to work as a mage again once the recovery began, though would have to change his fighting styles and work back up to the missions he had been taking.

Maybe he should be thankful that he would be able to continue working at all. He wasn't.

"Conflicted," Freed eventually said, walking beside Gajeel and determined to keep pace with him despite the unfamiliarity of the cane. "I'm glad you're here, though. Thank you."

"I wasn't gonna be anywhere else," Gajeel said firmly, and that was something of a consolation.

There was a lull in the conversation, and Freed knew what it was. Gajeel couldn't think of anything to say, because there was nothing that he could say to make the situation any better. No doubt, Gajeel knew that Freed wasn't fond of pity, and a lot of what a person might say in the situation might be seen as pitying, and so Gajeel was probably remaining quiet. Freed hoped this wasn't going to be a sign of things to come.

As if reading his thoughts, Gajeel suddenly perked up and looked at Freed with a mischievous smile. It was forced, but Freed didn't want to linger on that and so pushed it to the side and quirked up an eyebrow in a question.

"The stripper and the puppeteer are making Sparky and the flirt do their punishment this week," Gajeel said, and Freed laughed a little. "You wanna see them makin' asses out of themselves while being ordered around by two assholes."

"They actually went through with the butler idea?" Freed chuckled.

"Yeah. Even the thing about them being in their underwear and everything," Gajeel grinned, and maybe he was just happy to hear Freed amused. The last few weeks, he had been downcast at the best of times. "Even made sparky wear bunny ears. Though he was gonna fry all of us with how pissed off he looked. We were all laughin' pretty damn hard,"

"He takes bets seriously," Freed smiled. This topic, as stupid as it was, was a welcome distraction. "Are you sure you wish for me to see my ex in such a state of undress."

"Fuck yeah i do," Gajeel grinned. "You see him, then you see me and realise how much better you are now."

"So you intended to strip off too?" Freed probed. "I am being spoiled."

"Anythin' for my prince," Gajeel said.

Prince. Gajeel had been calling Freed that a lot over the last few weeks, and it always made him blush just a little. There was something so honest about the way he said it, as if Freed really were a man of importance to him as well as being someone to be revered. Freed wasn't the type of man to need complete adoration from a partener, but the fact Gajeel was so unquestioningly open about his reverence for him made Freed delighted. It was certainly better than city-boy, too.

And when he said he would do anything for Freed, it sounded like he meant it. Not just in the sense that he would do anything to make Freed's life easier now that this had happened. No, it felt like Gajeel was naturally happy to do things for Freed because he wanted to. Freed felt the same as Gajeel in that respect; he would do anything for him.

"I think maybe I'd like to go home for tonight," Freed eventually said, and Gajeel nodded.

"Thought you might," He said. "Don't worry about groceries or anything, I sorted 'em out. Spoke to yer team, so I've got everything you normally have, I think. Might make a cottage pie for dinner, Sparky said you like 'em. And I went to that bakery downtown and got you a banoffee pie for dessert."

And with a few statements, Gajeel had gotten Freed to cry.

The man who, less than a month ago, had been nothing more than a tedious acquaintance of Freed's was now somehow one of the most treasured people in his life. Because how could he not be? How could Freed not be entirely enamoured by a man like Gajeel? A man who had visited Freed every day in the infirmary, even sneaking in some nights despite rules saying he shouldn't. A man who, despite being known for his antisocial nature, had spoken to Freed's team to find out what he liked and what he did when the world was getting on top of him. A man who knew that something so trivial and comparatively not important as an empty fridge would be Freed's first thought after what had happened.

Gajeel noticed his sudden emotion and turned immediately. He looked at Freed with such open concern on his face, cupping Freed's cheeks with his large and calloused hands so carefully that Freed might swoon. Damn this brute of a man and his hidden fragility.

"It'll get better," Gajeel whispered. "I know it's shit now, and I ain't gonna tell ya how to feel 'cause that'd be shitty of me, but you'll get past it. Yer Freed fucking Justine, remember."

"I know," Freed chuckled, blinking a few times to cut off the tears. "Thank you."

"I ain't gonna let you do this alone, neither," Gajeel kept on. "Anythin' you need, anytime, I'm gonna do it for you. And you know you've got a whole guild full of people who'll do exactly the same. You'll get through it."

"I will," Freed whispered, and smiled at Gajeel. "You're too good to me."

"Like hell I am," Gajeel argued. "Now move yer ass. I wanna get in that damn bed of yours again. Mine feels shitty after havin' yours and yer runes would only let me in when I was bringing groceries."

Freed laughed at that. Gajeel certainly wasn't going to be treating him like glass. Good.

They walked down the streets of Magnolia side by side. For the most part it seemed normal, and on the few occasions where Freed's grasp on the cane wavered, or his leg buckled under him, Gajeel would help him back to being stable, held him while he walked for a few steps, and then acted like nothing had happened. Respectful, unpatronising, but there for him.

Gajeel was going to be there for him, and at that moment that was all Freed needed.

——

One Month Later

"Come on Prince," Gajeel yelled. "Nearly there, baby. Yer so close."

Gajeel was clapping as a form of motivation, standing on the side of the lake. He and Freed were in the forest that their relationship had begun in, having spent the night camping under the stars. The morning was a brisk and cold one, but Gajeel didn't care, as he watched his boyfriend keenly and with a ridiculous grin across his face.

Freed was so close. He was so close to getting there and Gajeel was so damn proud of him.

The couple had spoken at length about how Freed was going to move past his injury, and Freed had been adamant that he wanted to be as fit as he could and return to his missions as soon as he could. While Gajeel had been a little hesitant, he had worked with Freed on how they would accomplish that, and they had settled on building up his leg's muscle in small bursts. They would make goals for Freed to accomplish, and once he had accomplished one, he would move onto something more strenuous.

Swimming the entire length of the lake was the first goal. Although swimming didn't rely too heavily on his leg muscle, it kept it moving and put some on some burn. Multiple times a week they would get to the forest, and Freed would attempt it. So far, Gajeel had needed to dive in after and help him.

But this time, it looked different.

Freed was getting closer and closer to the shoreline and Gajeel could feel that this was the one. Finally Freed was going to get to the other end of the lake without any assistance. The water parted with each swift motion, and Gajeel was grinning from ear to ear as his boyfriend got closer.

"You can do this baby," He yelled again. "Yer fucking amazing. Yer so close."

Maybe Freed heard, because he seemed to speed up. As he approached the shoreline, Gajeel picked up his cane and rushed to where Freed was going to end up. He was going to do it! He was going to make it.

The moment Freed's hand hit the side of the lake, he removed his head from under the water. A look of shock turned to something close to joy, and Gajeel relished every second of it. To see the man he loved so happy, so proud of himself, was tremendous. Better still, Freed pushed himself out of the lake with no assistance, perhaps on an adrenaline high, and managed to stand up. It was wobbly, and he reached for his cane the moment it was within reach so he could prop himself up on it, but the fact he could do that after pushing his body so hard in swimming was incredible.

"Shit," Gajeel grinned. "You fucking-"

He was cut off when Freed grabbed Gajeel by the collar, pulled him down into a strong, passionate kiss. Gajeel stepped into the kiss and wrapped his arms around Freed's waist, not caring for how wet his clothes were going to be. He kissed back with as much passion as he could, because fuck - Freed had done it!

When they pulled apart, Freed had his left hand wrapped around Gajeel's neck. He looked practically giddy at his achievement. Fuck that was a handsome look on Freed, and Gajeel wanted to see it more. He pulled away, looked his man up and down and grinned.

Bastard shouldn't be able to kiss like that while dressed in a speedo.

Only Freed would be able to take the choice to give up sex until he was feeling reovered and turn it into a game where he'd try and turn Gajeel on every chance he got, just to piss him off. Motherfucking tease

"How d'you feel?" He asked, because Freed's health was more important than his arousal. "Nothing hurting too bad?"

"It burns, but like my arms do after lifting weights," Freed said, tentatively raising his right leg and moving it slightly. "But overall, I feel fantastic. Better than I have since everything began, I think."

"I'm glad," Gajeel grinned. "You wanna have some breakfast. Brought some pancake mix from the store if you wanna try it."

"Great," Freed grinned, and began to walk beside Gajeel to where they had set up camp. He looked up towards Gajeel with a spark in his eye that had been missing for some time. It was incredible to see it again. "I want to try and do it again tomorrow, to make sure that it wasn't a fluke. Would you mind sleeping here another night?"

"Of course not," Gajeel said immediately. Freed didn't need to ask.

"Once I'm sure that I can swim the length consistently, I think it makes sense to start working on exercises that focus on my leg, rather than using it as a secondary point of focus," Freed continued, seemingly unaware as Gajeel wrapped a towel around his bare shoulders. "I have a leg press at home which I could use, though perhaps that might be too much too soon. I suppose we can test it, can't we? You wouldn't mind being there, just in case something goes wrong."

"That's fine," Gajeel nodded, grinning at his boyfriend.

"Or perhaps some kind of ankle weights would be better," Freed continued, walking towards their camp as if walking on air. "They're not the most elegant solution, but they would certainly help build up muscle without too much strain. Perhaps you could make some for me, if you found the time of course. Maybe a continuous piece of iron that would snake around my calf, that way the weight would be distributed better around the leg."

"Makes sense," Gajeel said, chuckling. He was fairly sure he wasn't really a part of this conversation Freed was having with himself.

"I did want to start work on making the barn at the back of my property into a gym, but I've kept putting it off," Freed continued. "The space is rather a mess. Maybe the two of us could clean it out together. That would get me moving and help me be physical while using the cane," He then looked up to Gajeel and frowned. "Why are you smiling like that at me?"

"Yer cute when yer scheemin'," Gajeel grinned. "Glad I get to watch it."

Freed looked like he wanted to argue, so Gajeel leant over, pressed a kiss on the crown of his head, and smiled. Things were getting better.

——

Two Months Later

"Freed, no," Bickslow said firmly. "You can't do this to us."

"Why did you think this was a good idea?" Gray demanded, resting his head in his hands. "You've doomed us all."

"You're all so dramatic," Freed chuckled, leaning back in the chair and moving the wrapped box so it was out of sight again. "And I'm afraid that, when I'm choosing a gift for my boyfriend, I didn't prioritise the opinions of my friends."

"You should have," Evergreen huffed. "This is going to be awful."

The guild's New Years party had been going for hours now, and it had been a fun affair. People had drunk, made fools of themselves, and shared tender moments with their fellow guild members. While Freed hadn't engaged in much of the action, other than beating Max, Loke and Natsu in an arm wrestling contest, he had enjoyed a night of people watching and drinking with his friends and boyfriend.

As the night wore on, The Raijinshuu had flocked to a corner and sat at a table. Not only The Raijinshuu though, as Gajeel, Gray and Elfman were now mainstays of their table. It was odd, how quickly their small group had expanded and how easy these new friendships had been formed. Even Laxus, who had openly shown frustration at the fact he could have to go through the torture of becoming friendly with new people, had managed to find common ground with their new partners, even if he did pretend to be annoyed by their presence.

Or perhaps he was distracted. He and Loke could often be found glancing across at each other in subtle moments. Perhaps being forced to dress as sexy bunny-butlers had brought them together in a way fighting side by side just couldn't.

They were less subtle than Evergreen and Elfman, though. It was frustrating.

At that moment, Gajeel and Laxus had gone to the bar to collect the latest round. Freed had taken the opportunity to have a little fun with everyone else sitting at the table, and told them what his specific gift for Gajeel was. They had been less than pleased when they found out what it was, which only made Freed even more sure he had chosen the correct present.

"Hey," Gajeel said, placing a tray of drinks on the table and kissing Freed atop the head as he passed. "Why does everyone but you look pissy?"

"I told them that we couldn't open our gifts without you and Laxus being here," Freed lied smoothly, ignoring the roll of the eyes from Gray and Bickslow. "They were so enthusiastic to see what we've all got for each other, they didn't want to wait."

"Okay?" Gajeel frowned. "I don't believe ya, but if that's the story yer gonna go with, then I ain't gonna fight ya."

Freed chuckled. Gajeel really could see right through him.

Even though he didn't believe Freed's lie, the group did begin to open the presents they had gotten for each other. Elfman and Evergreen exchanged gifts first, doing so with the maturity of a woman who didn't know how to show off her affection, and the blush of a man who was delighted at even the smallest of compliments. Next, Bickslow and Gray, who had similar minds and had gotten each other gag gifts; Gray had been gifted ten coupons for a night with Bickslow, Bickslow had been gifted a pair of mens lingerie. Even Laxus had been given a gift from an 'anonymous' source, who had gotten him a small pendant shaped like a lion.

They really needed to be more subtle.

When it came to Freed and Gajeel, Gajeel offered his wrapped gift first. The box was long and thin, and Freed looked at it with curiosity as he began to unwrap it. When he looked at Gajeel, the dragon slayer was nervous.

"If you don't like it, that's okay?" Gajeel said, and Freed frowned. "It was kinda risky. So don't feel bad if you wanna change it back."

Not entirely sure what to expect, Freed opened the box. Inside of it was a new walking cane, one made of both wood and metal, a hell of a lot nicer than the one he'd gotten from Porlyusica. For a moment he wondered what Gajeel had been so nervous about, and what he meant by 'change it back', when he saw the handle. Rather than a simple handle, Gajeel had placed the hilt of Freed's sword on top of it.

The sword had been a constant burden for Freed over the past few months. He couldn't use it as his hand was occupied with the cane, so he had been forced to retire it. Looking at it was like a reflection of how much he had lost, and it had gotten so bad that he had put it in the attic and locked it away. Gajeel had apparently found it.

"I know the sword meant a lot to ya, but after what happened it made you feel shitty," Gajeel explained. "But I wanted it to make you feel good. Not something from yer past, but something from yer future."

"It's beautiful," Freed whispered, running his hand over the metal that had once been his hilt.

The sword had been the first thing he had brought with his own money, and the hilt had been the deciding factor over all the other weapons the armory had. For most of his life, it had been his most prized possession. Now, with the hilt attached to something that he could use, rather than something that taunted him with it's past importance, he could look at it with fondness and pride again.

"You sure?" Gajeel asked.

"Yes," Freed said earnestly. "It's perfect."

"You ain't seen everythin' yet," Gajeel was grinning now, and Freed removed it from it's box. "If y' push it into the ground and twist it anti-clockwise, you'll see what else I did."

Freed did as instructed, and heard a small click come from inside the cane. He lifted it up, and a thin blade was revealed to him. He looked at the shining metal with wonderment, and slowly brought the blade towards him. Another sword, more lightweight and agile than his previous blade had been, which worked better for his current state.

"I smelted down the old one and made it from the same metal, so it'll carry all the enchantments you put on it," Gajeel explained. "Thought you'd need one for when you started working again."

"It's perfect," Freed whispered, grinning at the blade. "Thank you so much, Gajeel."

"Happy new year, prince," Gajeel mumbled, pressing his lips against Freed's for a chaste kiss. "Yer gonna kick ass, I know it."

"I certainly intend to," Freed smiled, reaching for his gift to Gajeel. "While I admit it's not as thought out as yours was - I don't think anything could be - I do hope you enjoy what I got you."

Gajeel grinned and began to rip open the present, and everyone at the table who knew what he'd been gifted seemed downtrodden at the thought. Gajeel, however, looked into the large box with sparkling eyes and the biggest, most excited grin on his face. A moment later, he brandished his new electric guitar with anticipation rushing through him. Yes, Freed had definitely gotten him the right gift.

"Holy shit," Gajeel said with an excited laugh. "This is fucking kickass."

"I'm glad you like it," Freed smiled. "I should say, I expect a show."

Everyone groaned, but Gajeel ignored them. "Fuck yeah yer getting a show."

Before leaving, however, Gajeel leant down and pressed their lips together in a passionate kiss that was perhaps too deep for the situation. But with the constant PDA from Gray and Bickslow, the love/hate flirting from Elfman and Evergreen, and whatever the hell Loke and Laxus had between them, Freed felt he was allowed to kiss his boyfriend how he pleased.

"I should say," Freed murmured into Gajeel's ear as he pulled away. "I find musicians very sexy."

"Y' do, huh?" Gajeel grinned, voice a little husky.

"And if a musician were to dedicate a song to me, I could be persuaded to let him do anything at all to me," Freed continued, voice a sexy tease which he hopes would go right down Gajeel's spine. "Including, perhaps allowing him to bind me to my bed with the manicals that he thinks I don't know are hidden in the spare room," Gajeel's breath hitched. "I might let him keep me there all night, even. Though, I suppose, once I was bound, he'd be in complete control of me, so I'd have to do as instructed no matter what."

"Fuck yeah you would," Gajeel growled a little, and Freed smirked.

Once Freed had been recovered enough, the two men had restarted their sex life. Freed was happy both topping and bottoming, but Gajeel had shown himself to enjoy taking the top roll with sadistic glee. Freed had been happy to accommodate, and he'd been beaten and bruised by the man night after night.

"Something to consider before you start," Freed grinned, pulling away from Gajeel's ear to lean back in his seat.

Gajeel walked to the guildhall's stage with purpose, hefting his new guitar and plugging it into the amplifier. It seemed like everyone but Freed was unhappy with this turn of events, but neither man cared. This was for them, and they were going to enjoy themselves.

"I'm gonna dedicate this to my Prince, the hottest motherfucker in this guild," He looked towards Freed with an evil grin. "And this is a warnin' baby. You better be dancin' now, 'cause yer gonna be too fuckin sore to do it tomorrow."

Freed laughed, raised a glass to toast the sentiment, and sat back to watch his boyfriend perform.

——

Nine Months Later

Gajeel woke up with Freed wrapped up in his arms, and he still smiled at the sight of the sleeping man despite how much he'd seen it.

One year. He'd spent one year with Freed, and enjoyed every damn day of it.

Even if the start had been rocky, both with how they first felt anger towards each other as well as the difficulties Freed was facing with his leg, Gajeel wouldn't have changed a single day. Without their arguments on that first week, then Gajeel couldn't be sure that their passion would have turned into something more beautiful and more important than Gajeel would have ever predicted. And while he would give anything for Freed not to have had to face the demon and all the consequences of its possession, Gajeel was so proud of Freed for fighting through it all and was so glad he could be there to help him.

Now, Freed was a lot better. He was stronger on his feet and his cane was rarely needed, even if he always kept it with him. He could go on missions, both with Gajeel and with his team. While they weren't as action-filled as his previous missions, Freed was relearning his craft and creating a new fighting style that could accommodate his needs.

He was a fucking badass, and Gajeel loved him so much.

Life had changed for Gajeel too. Months prior, his contract in the shitty apartment had ended and Freed had invited him to move in with him. Now, every morning he got to wake up with Freed in their shared bed, in their shared home, in their shared lives.

Life was good.

With careful movements, he pressed his lips against Freed's to coax him awake. One thing that hadn't changed was Freed's adorable habit of sleeping in as late as he could, and normally Gajeel would be happy to accommodate. But today was their anniversary and he wanted to spend as much time as he could with his boyfriend. The afternoon and the evening were all planned by Freed, but Gajeel had a few ways of making the morning more fun.

"Wake up, baby," He murmured. "I got a surprise for ya."

Freed, as he always did when he was woken up before he wanted, blinked a few times and pushed his face into Gajeel's chest as if in protest to waking up. Gajeel chuckled, stroked his hand through Freed's hair, and gently pulled the man out from his chest. Freed was sleep worn and tired, but still smiled up at Gajeel.

"Morning," He greeted through a yawn.

"G' mornin'," Gajeel said with a grin. "Y' better not be tired all day. I've got plans for ya."

"Oh have you," Freed grinned lazily, hand resting on Gajeel. "Do tell."

"Not like that, y' horny fucker," Gajeel grinned. Of course, part of the day would be dedicated to screwing Freed senseless, but just not now. "Put on a robe or somethin', I'm gonna make ya breakfast."

Freed raised an eyebrow, but did as instructed and slowly removed himself from the bed. Once out from under the covers, Gajeel saw the man in his naked glory and smirked. Over the year, Freed had shown an interest in getting more piercings, and Gajeel had happily obliged. He had rings decorating his other ear, a stud on his nose, and a single barbell at the base of his cock. That was Gajeel's favourite. Day by day, he was turning his prince more punk.

In response, Gajeel had gotten himself some new tattoos in the shape of Freed's runes. They hadn't figured out how to implant actual runes, but the tattoos looked just the same. He now had the runic word for Dragon on his left arm, and he looked fucking kickass.

"When you said you were going to make breakfast, I hope you meant food," Freed teased gently. "Because at the moment, you look ready to eat me."

"Later, Prince," Gajeel promised, wrapping an arm around Freed.

They walked to the kitchen, and Freed sat at the table while Gajeel got to cooking. Freed mainly cooked for them both as he was better, but Gajeel was by no means bad when tasked with a meal. He also knew each and every one of Freed's guilty pleasure meals, and as such had decided to cook them both pancakes and bacon for their breakfast. They would need the energy for the rest of the day. No doubt Freed had something good planned, and then of course there was the double date dinner with Gray and Bickslow.

Apparently, according to Bickslow, they shared an anniversary, and as such had to celebrate together.

"Y' see that box on the table," Gajeel spoke over his shoulder. "Got you a present. Open it."

"I thought we agreed not to," Freed said, picking up the box.

"Yeah, I know. I had this already and thought it would be good for ya," Gajeel smiled to himself as he whisked the mixture. He heard paper ruffling behind him, and grinned when he heard Freed laugh. "Put it on. Every prince needs one, after all."

It was the wooden crown that he had carved when worrying about Freed in the forest. Once he had been sure Freed was okay, he had gone back to the forest and found where he'd left the carving. He had promised himself that, if he and Freed made it a year as a couple, he would give it to the man. By the amused expression on Freed's face, he had made the right choice.

Freed placed the crown on his head, rolling his eyes a little but smiling. Gajeel grinned and sauntered over to him. He pressed their lips together, grinning.

"Never thought I'd kiss a real prince," He teased. "Ain't I lucky."

"Not as lucky as me, I fear," Freed teased, running a hand up Gajeel's arms. When his fingers traced his runes, he stopped and smiled. "I never did tell you what this meant, did I? I suppose I was embarrassed. Would you like to know?"

"Yeah!" Gajeel exclaimed. He had always been curious.

"It means 'ownership'," Freed chuckled, and Gajeel's inner dragon leapt with joy. "It seems my magic has claimed you, Gajeel."

Gajeel grinned, wrapped Freed in his arms and kissed the hell out of him.

Yeah, life was pretty fucking good.

[spaceskam]

I'd love to see someone explore kyle being at the gay bar possibly hoping alex walks in? gone there bc of feelings for alex and wanting to explore it? have gone there with alex once and kept going back? has actually gone there ever since getting back to roswell but nobody noticed? idk so many possibilities but ending up with alex 😌

(i keep trying to add a read more and it refuses I hate it)

“You know, gay bars are supposed to be safe places, not places straight people go to for a museum experience.”

Kyle quickly looked up to Alex, eyes wide as he watched him walk towards him. In all the time he’d been coming here, he never actually expected to run into Alex here. Alex didn’t exactly seem the type to actually go out without being provoked to do so. It meant Kyle had to actually explain himself.

Which, you know, would’ve been easier if he knew how to.

“That’s... not what I’m doing,” Kyle said. Alex smirked more to himself than anyone else, sitting down at the table with his drink in hand. He looked more relaxed than Kyle was used to seeing him which immediately told him that absolutely was not his first drink.

“What are you doing then?” Alex asked, “Because I’ve been trying to figure out why the hell you’re in here for about thirty minutes now.”

Kyle huffed a laugh. “You’ve been watching me for thirty minutes?”

“I was trying to see what you would do if a guy came up to ask you to dance,” Alex told him, “Weirdly enough, no one did.”

“Yeah, I don’t think I’m anyone’s type around here,” Kyle laughed, shifting in his seat to try and hide the actual reason no one asked him to dance. There were only so many queer people in Roswell bold enough to go to a gay bar. Kyle had already been there enough times that anyone interested had already asked.

“Bullshit,” Alex said, shaking his head and looking way too hot doing it, “You just give off vibrant cishet vibes.”

Kyle tilted his head at his clearly very drunk friend. “That’s a new descriptor.”

“Yeah, I think it’s fitting.”

“I don’t know if I’d say that,” Kyle said, taking a sip of his own drink. If he was going to have to do this, he needed to catch up to Alex’s level of intoxication immediately. He ended up downing it before he looked back at Alex.

“Oh, shit, so you’re trying to get drunk to avoid to question,” Alex said, still smiling and laughing easily. It was weird seeing him so light. Kyle was kind of obsessed with it even if his presence was stressful. “Here, have mine.”

Kyle took it and drank it all, deciding he needed at least one more before he was at Alex’s level.

“How about this,” Alex said, leaning forward, “I buy you a drink and you dance with me.”

Kyle licked his lips and stared at him. All his visits here, all his experimenting, seemed to lead up to this moment. That was all training and dumb shit to test the waters and make sure he wasn’t a fool. This... this was the real deal. This was Alex, his friend and the guy who made him question anything in the first place. This was like fighting the big boss. This was the fucking Superbowl. 

“Why are you staring at me like a deer caught in headlights? You want a drink or no?” Alex asked, still smiling. Kyle blinked out of his daze and nodded.

“Yes, absolutely,” he agreed. Alex nodded and stood up, walking to the bar to get him another drink. Kyle took that moment to prepare himself, knowing that this was the night he was going to come out to Alex and it was going to be fucking awesome. Hopefully. Maybe. Fuck. 

Coming out was easier said than done. It was one thing to stroll into a gay bar for the first time with no confidence and be boosted up by a ballsy twink who gave him head before the end of the night. It was one thing to get comfortable with the idea of being with men and trying his own hand at new things with strangers in their cars. All of that was easy because he wasn’t even necessarily attracted to them, it was just a good way to experiment and they didn’t mind teaching him when he admitted that he was new to it all. It was something completely different to try and approach his friend who was so confident he was straight and say ‘hey, I might be in love with you in a gay way’. 

But Alex came over with a drink and kept looking at him like he was curious and Kyle tried to tell himself this was going to go his way.

“So, am I ever going to find out the real reason you’re here?” Alex said as Kyle tried to consume the drink as fast as he could so they could go dance, “It’s not to, like, creep on women who come here for other women, right? Because I might have to kick your ass for that.”

“No, that’s definitely not why,” Kyle said, pulling the straw out and just tilting the whole thing back. Alex shook his head.

“What the hell are you hiding, Valenti?” he asked, looking somewhere between amused and turned on and Kyle had exactly no idea how to handle that. Probably because there’s no way that’s what he was actually feeling.

“Let’s dance,” Kyle said, pushing himself to his feet and absorbing the slightly woozy feeling of the alcohol. 

“Yeah, let’s.”

Kyle avoided any looks the men he’d hooked up with before gave him as he pulled Alex onto the floor. They didn’t need to know anything and Alex definitely didn't need to get any ideas from them. He wanted to tell Alex himself. That was the goal.

Alex pulled him close, a challenging look in his eye as if he was just waiting for some type of line to be crossed. He grabbed his hand in one of his and put the other on his lower back, slow-dancing to the relatively fast-paced music. Kyle went along with every move.

“So, what’s the goal here?” Alex asked, leaning in close to speak. Kyle swallowed harshly at the feeling of his breath on his ear. Okay, so there was no time being wasted.

“What do you mean?”

“Why are you at a gay bar?” Alex asked again, “And why are you so okay with dancing with a gay guy? I’m trying to decipher your motives.”

“I’m not some straight guy trying to prove that I’m not a homophobe anymore if that’s what you mean,” Kyle told him, “I come here because I like the atmosphere.”

“What straight guy comes to a gay bar by himself?”

Kyle took a deep breath and focused on the alcohol in his system. Now or never.

“Why are you so sure I’m straight?”

Alex froze in his grasp before he leaned away from him, his eyebrows furrowed as he eyed him. Kyle stared back, unwavering and trying not to seem like a total loser. There was no way this was going to end the way he would’ve liked. 

“So... what do you mean by that?”

“I guess the word is bisexual?” Kyle said, “Or something. I’ve talked to a couple guys here and they agree that sounds right. I’m pretty sure my percentage is, like, 85% women, 15% men, or maybe even less towards men, but I’m still working it out, I just know it’s there on some level because when I look at you, I... Is that too much information?”

Alex was still staring at him like he’d grown another head. Kyle just waited and hoped he would be okay with that. He assumed he would be considering Alex didn’t seem to have a problem with Michael’s bisexuality. Except that confusion slowly slipped into something so close to betrayal that Kyle’s heart sank.

“Are you trying to say that you’re into me?” Alex asked. Kyle slowly nodded and Alex pulled away from him. “So, what, you’ve only been nice to me for the last year because you wanna fuck me?” Kyle’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head.

“What? No, oh my-”

Alex didn’t care to listen, shaking his head and quickly making a beeline for the exit. Kyle quickly followed him all while trying to follow Alex’s thought process. Of all the reactions he’d expected Alex to have at that moment, that wasn’t it.

“Alex! Wait, just talk to me!” Kyle called, following him to his car. “Just let me explain!”

“Explain what? That you’re just one of those people who is an asshole until you want something from me? Because that’s what I’m hearing. I thought you were my friend,” Alex said as he turned to face him. His face was red and Kyle didn’t know if it was the alcohol or the anger. 

“No, I swear to God, that’s not why I’m nice to you,” Kyle said, holding his hands up, “I didn’t even know I was into guys until, like, four months ago. Like I said, my percentage for liking men is extremely low. You just happen to be in that section and I didn’t realize until four months ago. You are my friend, I just... Wouldn’t mind also being more than that if you wanted.”

“Four months ago?” Alex repeated, eyeing him skeptically, “Like, four months ago as in that time my dad knocked us out and locked us in a small ass bunker together for 24 hours?” 

Kyle grimaced, still keeping his hands up by his head. “Guilty.”

“What the fuck about that day gave you a second sexual awakening? I-I was literally sweating the entire fucking time and covered in dried blood. I was gross.”

“What can I say? I guess I like when you’re gross?” Kyle said, trying to smile but it didn’t really work. Alex scoffed, shaking his head before raking his hands through his hair.

“I’m so confused,” Alex breathed, leaning against his car and covering his eyes. Kyle took a deep breath and tried to order his thoughts. He decided the best way to do it was just start from the beginning.

“Um, I think it was actually when we got out. I had to kinda help you walk and you were leaning on me and then, when we got in the backseat of Isobel’s car, you still leaned on me. You fell sleep on my shoulder and I, I was so scared that if I moved you’d wake up and get away from me. It took me a few hours after that to even realize that what I was feeling when you were leaning against me was sort of how I felt in high school with Liz,” Kyle explained. Alex peaked up at him through his hands. “It wasn’t sexual at first. I just... I kinda realized I loved you in a way I wasn’t supposed to.”

“At first?” Alex asked. Kyle shrugged.

“That I realized a little bit later when we were working on self-defense together. I definitely should’ve realized that earlier because I’ve had, like, x-rated dreams about you, but it never really clicked that that was something I would be legit interested in that until I saw you that day. Sweaty and shirtless and breathing really hard and pouring water over your chest like... Sorry,” Kyle said, rolling his shoulders back as he tried to get back on track, “But once I realized that, I realized I had no idea what to do about that. So I started coming here and, well, pretty much every single queer guy in Roswell is down for a meaningless fuck. I learned a lot, so...”

Alex dropped his hands, still looking semi-conflicted as he stared at him. Kyle waited patiently for him to say something. 

“You promise me you weren’t just using me?” Alex asked. Kyle nodded.

“I promise. I would never. And if you’re not interested, I promise we can just go back to acting like this never happened. It’s still early enough in my stupid crush that I can move on without issues if you say you’re not interested,” Kyle explained. Alex nodded slowly. “So, uh... are you? Interested?”

“I don’t know,” Alex huffed, “I’ve never thought about it.”

“Never?” Kyle asked. Alex gave him a look. 

“Not, like, since we were kids and I had, like, a dumb little kid crush on you. I kinda haven’t let myself think about it because you’re straight. Or, I thought you were.”

“If it helps, I thought I was too.”

Alex let out a soft laugh, looking at him with those eyes that reminded him why the hell he’d fallen for him in the first place. If only he’d been slightly less good looking or slightly less ridiculously caring and loyal and strong. But then he wouldn’t be Alex.

“Look, I don’t need an answer right now, I know I kinda put you on the spot,” Kyle said, “You can sleep on it or we can talk more or, fuck, you can shut me down right now. Whatever you want, Alex.”

Alex took a deep breath. “How about we go on a date?” Kyle blinked in surprise.

“For real?”

“Yeah,” Alex decided, “Take me out, woo me, see if it’s actually something we could do without it being weird.” Kyle nodded easily.

“Yes. Absolutely.”

“Okay. Then... it’s a date.”

“It’s a date.”

Kyle couldn’t help but smile at him, feeling giddy and already beginning to plan it in his mind. It was going to be fucking great and he was going to sweep him off his feet. Then he was going to put his new skills to use.

“But I think I need to go home now,” Alex said, huffing a laugh.

“Let me get you an uber or something, you’ve been drinking,” Kyle said, already pulling out his phone. Alex smiled and shook his head.

“What a gentleman.”

“That’s not even the beginning,” he said, “I’m going to sweep you off your feet.”

“Can’t wait.”

And, honestly, Kyle couldn’t either.

[rogue-barnes-16]

HISTORY REPEATS ITSELF

Suggested prompt: Ari is sent on a new mission with the reader... They have history together.

Pairing: Ari Levinson x reader

Genre: angst-ish

Tags:

Suggested by: @writerwithfluffysocks @ari-levinson

Ari Levinson: @capsiclesdoll

Permanent taglist: @notexactlythatgirl @thisismysecrethappyplace @sofreakinmanyfandoms @pizzarollpatrol @bubblycypress87 @1a-girl-has-no-name1 @loislp @lovenaturefirst @dyanna-corona @2ptonpt @goodnightmode @disneyprincessbuffyannesummers @mannls @cutie1365 @catch22inareddress @mybooradley @sebastianisasnack @butifulsoul125 @unlikelygalaxygiver

Warnings: language, shooting, mentions of wounds

A/N: here it goes my first Ari Levinson x reader fic, hope you enjoy darlings <3.

Rogue-barnes-16 masterlist

"Miss Y/l/n!" Little tugs on my hand made me turn around redirecting my attention to the little girl besides me who seemed to be craving it.

"What's it, Shira?" I questioned, bending the knee to be eye to eye with the kid.

"That man." She pointed at the opposite side of the room, where the open door communicated the class with the outside. "He says he wants to talk with you."

I spun my head to meet Ethan's eyes. "Shit." He gave me a smile, leaning against the wooden door frame. "Thank you, Shira." I flashed a smile at the kid and stood up.

"Y/n" he motioned at the kids, currently playing. "I see you didn't waste your time."

"why are you here, Ethan?"

His eyes shifted to mine. "Your vacations are over. You have a mission."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

My eyes were fixed on the view I had through my window the whole drive in that shitty pickup truck.

When Ethan wouldn't give away the name of my partner, I suspected something was off, so I couldn't say that I had been entirely surprised to see Ari's face in the airport.

"Didn't know he'd send you." Ari attempted to break the ice, although it wasn't an easy task.

"I didn't know you were the partner." We stayed in a new kind of silence that turned out to be way more uncomfortable than the first one. "Where's Sammy?"

He cleared his throat. "He left." his statement made me look at him for the first time since we left the airport. "Apparently, I'm fucking reckless, an asshole, and never have a plan."

"He ain't lying." I commented, leaning against the backrest. "Oh c'mon!" I exclaimed, acknowledging the anger in his eyes when he spared me a glare. "Y'know it's true, that's why you're mad."

He let out a humorless laugh, gripping the steering wheel with both hands. "Fuck y'know me so well, don't you?" Sarcasm dripped from his tongue as if it was poison.

I rolled my eyes, aware that starting a fight wouldn't help us at all. "Where are we staying?"

"Why?"

"Ethan mentioned you'd been compromised."

"A friend got us a room." he informed me, taking a turn to the left.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

We arrived at the hotel room, and not many words were exchanged during the daytime, but when the sun fell, we had no option but to talk, since we had to discuss the plan he had.

Or more likely, the plan that he didn't have.

"No" I shook my head no, sat on the crappy hotel bed. "That's not a solid plan. That's not even a fucking plan."

"What the hell do you mean?" he questioned, offended. "it worked 'til now." a tilt of his head accompanied his statement. "I'd say it's a good plan."

I buried my face on my palms, bending forward. "Okay, first off," I looked up at him again. "If it had worked til now, I'm sure Sammy wouldn't have left, and wouldn't be here. And second" he slightly shifted his posture, letting himself rest against the wall. "I'd say it's a shitty strategy, but got lucky."

"I don't see the problem." he replied, shrugging.

"yeah well I do." he clenched his jaw and I let out a exasperated sigh. "Ari, you've been compromised thanks to your 'plan', and you don't wanna change it."

"It's not the first time this happens, and-"

"Yeah, that's the fuckin' problem!" I raised my voice, hopping off the bed. "you keep doing this, and it always ends with your life on the line" he attempted to interrupt me but I kept throwing my tantrum. "and you drag everyone with you!"

He pushed himself off the wall, a frown formed in his face. "is this 'cause of Tangier? Because that one ain't on me, it's on you. You got in the way when Rachel warned not to."

"First of all, what the fuck?" my voice was now low, shocked that he pulled that card after what had happened in that city, not just the great disaster that his plan turned out to be, but also what we had had there. "it doesn't matter. Tangier, Khartoum, or any other mission, it's always the same, and I'm not willing to die for you." Not anymore, I thought. "so right fucking now, tell me we're changing that fuckin' shit to an actual plan."

He knew I was right, but he wouldn't say it. "it's late," he grunted, unbuttoning his shirt without sparing me a single look. "let's just go to sleep."

Exhaling, I grabbed a tank top and shorts from my bag and started to change my clothes.

Once I was done, I climbed on the bed and lay down, ready to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

I huffed, running my hands over my face.

Sleeping had become an impossible task, because damn, it was fucking hot in that tiny room, and I was sweating.

I sat on the bed, careful not to wake Ari, who seemed to have accomplished the goal that I had been chasing for at least a couple of hours.

I got rid of the shorts and, right after having pulled my tank top over my head, I felt a shift on the mattress before Ari's digits ghosted over the scar on my back. "this should've been on my chest."

The scar left there by an asshole's gun who had been aiming at Ari; the scar that worked as a reminder of what had exactly triggered the disaster in Tangier.

"I'm sorry." his thumb traced the line that remained there after Sammy's improvised sewing. "Don't know why the fuck I said that. You're right, I always drag people down with me." his fingers lingered on my skin just for a moment before he retreated his hand.

I breathed out. "it was the heat of the moment." When he didn't say anything, I turned around. "you okay?"

He gave me a lazy nod, his eyes lost somewhere in his darkest memories. "I really am a fucking asshole, and I never learn."

"You're kind of an ass." I agreed as he closed his eyes. "and you never learn, but you get shit done better than anyone. And" I poked his chest, making him open one eye. "you got a great heart, so don't torture yourself that much 'kay?"

He opened his eyes again, this time with a half smile. "I missed you, Y/n."

I mirrored his expression and held back the 'I missed you too' that I so badly wanted to say. "Alright, Levinson."

His smile grew wider, and the ghosts that had been chasing his blue eyes transformed into the happiness that used to show up in his pupils whenever I smiled. The only difference was that now, that happiness was stained with regret and melancholy. "Sometimes I wonder how it would have been if I hadn't fucked up." his eyes got lost again. "Wish things were different."

I pursed my lips, stopping myself from saying that I did too often wondered about what we could have been if things hadn't gotten in the way.

That I wondered if we would have been happy together.

I let myself fall besides him. "alright, go to sleep, 'cause tomorrow we gotta sort a shit ton of stuff out."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Everyone move to the back, now!" I shouted, helping the people we were helping to climb to the truck. "c'mon c'mon c'mon!"

I heard shotguns closer and closer, and when I turned around, I saw Ari sprinting towards us with a girl in his arms.

"fuckin' shit." I muttered, jogging to him to lend a hand. "Holy fuck. Holy fuck." I cursed, seeing the Jeep driving in our direction.

I pulled out my gun and started to shoot. "Get inside!" Ari shouted, almost throwing the girl into the truck before tugging wrapping his hands around my waist, sweeping me off my feet and pushing me to the front of the truck at the same time as he shielded me, just in case the bullets reached us. "Fuck fuck fuck fuck!"

I jumped inside and tugged him with me, starting the engine while he was sitting up properly. "Get us the hell out of here!"

We took off, following the route that we had carefully traced five days ago; a route perfect for us to lose the Jeep that was right behind us.

It took us around half an hour, but it worked.

Ari stopped the truck once we were safe and, as I let myself fall against the backrest, he rested his forehead against the steering wheel.

"we did it." I spoke, a little surprised.

"we did it." he repeated pulling himself up to mimic my posture.

His eyes were trained on mines and vice-versa.

Our breathing was heavy and ragged as we both dug our eyes into one another's with a feeling that wasn't easy to fight in this conditions; a feeling that I thought had been long forgotten.

His gaze flickered to my lips for a second and, when I subconsciously licked them, he gulped "I need air." he grunted, kicking the door open before climbing off the truck.

I didn't think twice before jumping off the truck and stalking to were he was now standing.

Before he could say a word, I grabbed his shirt and pulled him into a kiss which, as soon as he reciprocated it, became rough and needy.

His hands gripped my hips, pulling me as close as possible as we desperately devoured each other's lips as if they were water in the dessert; as if they were the air we breathed.

I pulled apart only when it was completely necessary for us to breath. "I missed you too." I whispered, letting him kiss my lips once more. "and I wish things were different."

"let's make things different." he replied, stealing one more kiss without letting go of me. "please, Y/n, let's make things different" he rested his forehead against mine, heavily breathing. " 'cause life's hell without you."

I nodded, kissing his lips, this time tenderly. "let's do it." his hands went up and down my sides at the same time as mines help in place the strands of his hair that tingled my face. "but let's finish this job first."

He nodded, a beautiful smile making tugging the corners of his lips at the promise of an 'us'.