#a preamble to the main show!

[daily-bipper-brainrot]

[tinycozycomfort]

made by hand

pairing: contractor!joel miller x housewife f!reader

day five of @pascalisbaby and i's joeltober: bondage -> read her day five here

summary: He has nothing to offer, after all; no love letter, no borrowed jacket, no wedding ring. This is all he has to show his devotion, to seal his promise—a fist full of glossy blue and the willingness to unfurl his body and scoop out his insides just to allow you a place to lay. All he can give you is himself.

warnings/tags: no outbreak, bondage, unprotected piv, joel's pov, age gap (joel is 40s, reader is not), yearning, dom/sub dynamics, joel is mushy, fixation, pet names (sweetheart, honey, etc), infidelity (reader is married)

word count: 1.5k

rating: explicit! 18+ only, mdni

a/n: in the same universe as this one-shot but set far enough after to be readable w/out it!

main masterlist

Joel doesn’t know what he did to be able to have you like this—to be able to steal this time from you—when you have so much else.

Even worse, you’re a dream. Soft and gorgeous and strung up for him, belly flush to the mattress with your wrists laid over the knobs of your spine, gathered in a twist of baby blue. 

He sits against the backs of your thighs, his own bracketing the swell of your hips, cock bobbing in a sticky pool over the smooth surface of your inner leg. You suck in a breath and punch out a whine each time you can feel the firmness of him, grazing over every slice of skin except where he knows you want him most. 

He peers down, runs a hand across the link of your wrists, smiling when he sees the way you’ve tucked two fingers into the hollow of your palm—holding your own hand—like you have to discipline yourself one extra degree.

After taking his mouth and his fingers for as long as he’d pleased without too much push-back, your efforts don’t go unnoticed, “Go on and ask me what you want to ask me, sweetheart. Think you’ve earned that much.” 

“Can you touch me?” He can see you tug against where you’re bonded, an extension of your plea.

Joel thinks it’s a sad thing, the made-by-hand contraption he’s used to restrain you—a wide loop of tall ribbon sewn through the center to leave a pair of loose cuffs. He’d originally crafted it because he wanted to give you something pretty—a gift that wouldn’t cause concern or raise any unwanted attention, perfectly mundane when stowed in the safety of your sock drawer. It was the first for-you-from-him that went beyond his body, something he selfishly hoped could also serve as a memento should he ever become just the past.

It took him one weekend to make and two months to bring to you, driving up that long stretch of unfinished pavement and pulling it out of his pocket, red-cheeked and anxious. The seams are jagged where he spent hours sealing them shut, barreling over each other in a weave to keep the integrity, the deep color of the thread more than a few shades off—steel against pastel. He had tried to hide the imperfections, smooth side up in his hand as he muttered some lame preamble about something nicer than using the underwear, sometimes. He remembers the face you made at him when you unwound his hold, no huff of laughter at his break in character like he thought, telling him you loved it. 

It’s the only thing you use now.

“‘M already all over you; already put so much of me on you, in you. What do you mean, baby? Be more specific.” 

“I need you—need it inside.”

He tugs on the center strip—the binding—rolling a finger over the lip to tighten the slack that allows the accessory to be slip-on. That feature, other than making the contraption reusable, alleviated the issue of markings; his stomach sinks when he’s reminded evidence is even a factor.

He bends down, initially careful to keep his cock at surface level when he hovers over you, the bristle of his beard behind your ear making him sigh, that spark of possessiveness bringing something hungrier, “Say it again.”

“Can you please put–”

“Don’t be smart. You know what I want to hear; say it again.”

Tipping forward on his knees, he lets the length of him run down the crest of your ass, passing through where he can feel your heartbeat, shining folds of flesh that beg to be parted—ever the fool who can’t deny you much for long.

“I need you.” 

His chest constricts, heart dimpling underneath where you’re always holding it in your clutch; just the weight of your desire for him is enough to pull his body down through the ground, to the other side of the earth. He needs you, too, so desperately. Naively, in moments like this, with declarations like that, he sees success in all of this—sees keeping you.

Joel leans back, thumb sliding against the stripe of wet at your cunt, peeling back the seam to get a better look at the hole he wants so horribly to fill. His cock aches, heavy and hot and ready to take. 

He wishes he could savor it—tries to every time—but he never knows how long this will last. How long it will be before you attend the couples counseling sessions your husband asks of you. How long before you decide that a house and kids and the life he can’t provide for you might actually be enough. How long it’ll be before you just tire of him. So he’s greedy, takes everything you feed him straight to the stomach; he doesn’t have the patience to chew, in fear of not being able to finish. 

He has nothing to offer, after all; no love letter, no borrowed jacket, no wedding ring. This is all he has to show his devotion, to seal his promise—a fist full of glossy blue and the willingness to unfurl his body and scoop out his insides just to allow you a place to lay. All he can give you is himself. 

And he does—uses that exploring hand to guide the head of his cock to the slip of warmth you so meanly demand him to enter, so sweetly beg him to stay in.

“Again.”

He rolls his other wrist to gather up more of that silk, dragging the mess of limbs higher up your back, both for leverage and to remind you he’s strong—worth that, too.

When he slides himself in, he can feel the squeeze run through to the very tips of his toes, the points of his ears—boiling, syrupy heat that forces his body to lock up, terrified to fall over and take his last breath as a result.

“I’ll give you as much of this cock as you want, honey. Just want to hear a few little words.”

He pushes in firmly despite his threats, and so easily does he meet the end of you, apex of your womb perfectly made to receive him, like you’d been fitted for each other. He pants as silently as he can, setting aside his pleasure in favor of yours, not even to be distracted by his own voice. 

Joel forces as much of his weight as you can handle on the bundle at your back, swinging into you with the power of everything he’s too afraid to confess. He can fuck that reassurance into you, instead—make up for his inability to be confident in those more tender moments with the role he takes in this swirl of lust. 

He can tell by the way you constrict around him that you’re close, the squelch of where you meet heightening every time he moves in to the hilt.

“I’m gonna come, Joel. Fuck.”

“Don’t like askin’ twice. C’mon, focus.”

He bows again, bracing his legs so he can wedge his right arm through the slot at your hip, elbow flat to the bed as he reaches down, in. Your clit is smeared in your slick, running down from where he’s giving you everything, and thinks maybe you understand what he’s trying to tell you without words. He pushes as best he can against the bead, fingers working rhythmically to bring you there, knowing he won’t be able to take much more.

You’re crying now, it seems, from the broken shape your words take as they fall out, “I-I, Joel. I need you. Please. I love you.”

He can’t handle that, the pulse of his orgasm almost immediate, the fierce curl of your cunt around him no help. You whine under him, and if it weren’t for the risk of crushing you, he’d take his mouth to yours.

He fucks you until he can’t, until he expresses his response to exhaustion. He’s heaving by the end, forehead to your shoulder where it’s glued down with sweat. 

It takes him much longer now to come down, to shimmy out from over your body, to release and turn and fold you into his lap. 

Cruelly, he keeps the silk in his palm, thinking he can force another memory into it by making it bear witness to all of this; another knot in your ‘relationship’—as close as this will ever come to being that, anyway. 

Joel breathes at the crown of your skull, hair tickling his lips when he finally decides to break the silence, “Do you really?” And before it has the chance to be taken away from him, “I love you, too.”

[shadowsndaisies]

athena; the preamble

WC: 3k

synopsis: athena at a glance basically

main masterlist

athena-verse master post

a/n: i know I should be working on cnng, but this idea has just fully taken root. the brain rot is real.... please come talk to me about it... please

Having Maverick for a dad is exactly what it sounds like.

He played fast and loose with the rules of the Navy, which made him a highly decorated captain, but at the end of the day, he had two loves in his life, the Navy and his daughter. Despite the risks he took and the chances he played with, you never doubted your dad's love. You did, however, have to learn to speak his language.

That meant early mornings in the hangar, learning how to fix up engines and motors of relics. It meant doing homework on base after school. It meant learning ranks and callsigns as a kid. And so you did. You did it all. You learned poker and swindled more than a few Navy men before you'd even hit puberty. You smiled pretty for every commanding officer your father's managed to piss off. It also meant developing a need for speed.

Having Maverick for a dad meant being on edge every time he got deployed. It meant spending his deployments with Uncle Ice and Aunt Sarah and your summers with Aunt Carole and Bradley.

Every deployment that fell during the school year was spent based out of the Kazansky house. You didn't mind too much. Uncle Ice and your dad always had each other's back, a bond forged in loss, that much you knew. Aunt Sarah acted like a mom; she cooked hot meals and taught you how to make some of your favorites. You spent time with their kids and went to school with them, too. It was fun spending time with Ryan and Elizabeth Kazansky. Ryan was about five years younger than you but a ball of energy, and little Lizzie was a planner and was often your partner in crime despite being eight years younger than you.

There were the odd in-betweens when your dad would have someone he trusted enough to watch you. That being said, you'd only ever spent a few deployments with someone not named Bradshaw or Kazansky; the exception was always one woman, Penny Benjamin.

You weren't an idiot.

Having Pete Mitchell for a dad meant wising up quick. Meant quick humor and a reckless streak that you had to work twice as hard to overcorrect and suppress because you both knew he'd never be the one to police you on it. It meant a semi-stable home life but so much love and too many role models. It also meant a fluctuating Penny.

Penny, who met your dad years before you were born. Penny, who you knew your dad loved and who loved your dad, even though they never seemed to get their timing right. Penny, who taught you how to sail, throw a proper punch, and French braid. Who showed you how to open a beer bottle without an opener in several different ways, using a belt buckle, a spoon, and your house keys? Penny, who was.. a mom. As much as you are reluctant to admit it publicly, Penny Benjamin was probably the closest thing you had to a mom because even though Aunt Sarah loved you and cared for you like she did with Elizabeth, she was always Aunt Sarah, never Mom. Even Aunt Carole, who was your godmother, could never truly fill the void of mother even though you know she tried her best to help you with the parts you missed out on. Penny was the only one who came close, at least when she was around she was.

Summers, though, were your favorite. Whether or not your dad was on deployment, you spent every summer in Virginia with the Bradshaws. You had a room that Carole always referred to as "little Miss Mitchell's room" and a best friend who taught you so much more about life.

Bradley.

Bradley, who taught you how to swing a bat and throw a football. Bradley, who gave you your first driving lesson when your dad got deployed before he could. Bradley, who you talked with weekly when you weren't living under the same roof. Bradley, who let you make fun of his name when you needed an easy out, Brad Brad, had been the running joke.

Bradley always had your back; he piggybacked you home when you skinned your knees during your skater girl summer. He took you out of the way to your favorite ice cream place whenever you had cramps and planted himself on the sofa with you to watch Sabrina, the Teenage Witch, and I Dream of Jeanie when you refused to move. Bradley, who ate the things you cooked when you'd test out Aunt Sarah's recipes and forgave you while throwing up when you gave him food poisoning when you were thirteen, who still trusted what you put in front of him even after that (though he had gotten you a meat thermometer and written up a cheat sheet to ensure you knew when it was fully cooked).

And you had his.

When Aunt Carole died, you mourned for months. Navy royalty knocked on your dad's door to share their condolences with the teen for weeks. Bradley had been seventeen at the time, about to start his senior year of high school. He completed that year back in San Diego. He'd had friends and people who cared for him in Virginia, who'd offered their homes for his final year of high school, but when your dad offered, he clung to the familiarity that was Mav. That year, your dad had a few deployments, and all of them were short. Looking back, you wonder if Uncle Ice had pulled strings to ensure that. Either way, when Bradley went to his senior prom, Mav was there. He filmed the awkward getting-ready stage, caught on camera as you helped Bradley tie his tie, and you got a great moment of Mav doing the last inspection before Bradley left to pick up his date.

You spent all your free weekends that spring at every single one of Bradley's baseball games. Aunt Sarah would come to every home game, and little Lizzie and Ryan loved screaming and cheering for Brad's mama. Look at Brad Brad go!

Bradley grieved and cried, and he was so incredibly sad and heartbroken. But he was still Bradley. He was still your best friend. He intimidated any guy who got too close and was the only person outside your father who you could love one second and be planning his murder the next. Bradley was your best friend; he was until he wasn't.

Until papers were pulled and words were exchanged, Bradley stormed out one day and never came back.

You found him; of course you did. He was your best friend. And even though you coaxed him out of his hiding spot, words were said. Phrases hurled at you that targeted the softest of spots that only he knew about. You held together; you had to. You got him at Viper's and left him there. You went to Ice's. You didn't talk to your dad for months, and Bradley never spoke to him again.

He reached out to you during your senior year of high school in an email apologizing for how he lashed out at you. You never responded. A scabbed spot in your heart that used to belong to him, still too raw to touch. He kept emailing, though. Random updates, more apologies, congratulations, and happy birthdays. You read every email, but you never could bring yourself to respond. Then, four years had gone by.

Bradley's bi-weekly email arrived when you were in your second year of university. You read it, reread it, and then read it a third time. Aviation Officer Candidate School. You weren't surprised; you knew Bradley wouldn't abandon his dream. You never thought he would, but being faced with the reality of it weighed heavily. Bradley being selected for AOCS was proof of his dedication. OCS, in general, required sponsors within the Navy and was much more difficult to get into than the Naval Academy; they only took individuals with a bachelor's degree to start with. However, for Bradley to get into AOCS, specifically the aviation program, someone up the ladder had to have helped. The more you sat with it, the harder it became to figure out who. It could have been Viper, who had dealt with an Angry, Confused, and Isolated Bradley for the remainder of his senior year and the summer, probably every summer after that. Or maybe it was Ice, cleaning up the mess your dad had made, just as he always did.

Your dad had cost Bradley four years in the Navy, but this program might help him bridge it, at least to some degree.

For the first time since the day you dropped him at Viper's, you respond.

Congratulations, Bradley, I'm glad you're achieving your dream.

That was it.

You didn't tell your dad. But you heard about it when he found out. Ice, thankfully, had given you a heads-up. You played dumb; you knew better than to admit to the emails. Your dad was strong and stubborn, but you'd seen what his and Bradley's blowout had done to him. The hollowness that followed him, the pain in his eyes at every memento and reminder. The ache in his heart is located between the gaps titled Goose and Carole.

He hadn't told you why he'd pulled Bradley's papers. You'd made (somewhat) peace (begrudgingly) with that when you finally let your dad back into your life nearly two months after the Pulling of the Papers, and only because he almost died in a bird strike and you as his next of kin had been notified upon his hospitalization.

When he heard about AOCS, though, the secret came spilling out. Carole asked me, and she gave me one request. You'd known your dad had a private conversation with Carole Bradshaw on her deathbed. You and Bradley had been asked to stand outside her hospital room while they talked. When you were allowed back in, they both had tears in their eyes. You'd always assumed it had something to do with Goose, and to an extent, you were right. Carole Bradshaw was one of the strongest women you'd ever met, but it seemed even she was afraid of the price you pay to the Navy for the honor of serving your country.

You weren't sure what drove you to it.

It could have been Bradley's transition into AOCS.

The truth your dad had finally shared.

Or because you still felt like you had something to prove.

Maybe even that need for speed that had never been handled properly.

But you enrolled in your university's Navy ROTC program that same week.

The most surprising part of the change was how easily it came. Orders sounded like they did on the bases you grew up on. Your history, lineage, and contacts helped get you started and acted as an excuse for your late decision to join. You found some semblance of peace in ROTC as if the missing parts of the puzzle were starting to become visible.

You weren't sure how you managed to get through ROTC and into your first year as a Naval officer without your dad finding out, but you did. And by then, it was too late for him to do to you what he'd done to Bradley.

Bradley, to his credit, had a mellower response, only because he didn't have your phone number anymore and could only type an email in caps lock to convey his yelling. He did include it on the bottom, though; I wish I'd thought of ROTC. I could've sped the pipeline along more.

You hadn't responded to any emails since his admission into AOCS, and if you watched his college graduation and sent a gift to Ice to pass off to him, that was nobody's business but yours.

Your dad was… displeased.

But he kept calling. He didn't freeze you out, and you didn't have it in you to do it to him again. So you talked, told him how training was, and when he finally asked you why? In such a pained voice, you told him the truth. There was no tangible reason, just that you had to do it, that this was your path. Safe to say, it wasn't exactly what he wanted to hear.

Becoming an Aviator was difficult. Not only because of the requirements and the toll it takes. Not only because you were a woman. But because you faced accusations of nepotism at every turn. You were, however, your father's daughter, and his lack of movement within the Navy did not diminish his accomplishments. You learned. You learned from the best. From your teachers, from your peers, from your dad, and from the men you considered uncles. And you showed everyone what you were capable of. You were a Naval Aviator within a year of graduating from college and the ROTC program, achieving the rank quicker than almost anyone following the same pipeline. You made a name for yourself using your brain. Where people were quick to assume nepotism, you were quick to show them your dry wit, sharp tongue, and tactical thinking.

That's where the callsign came from. Athena was the Greek goddess of wisdom and war, daughter of Zeus, and king of the gods. It fit well.

You did two and a half years as a Naval Aviator Officer in training in Norfolk and another two in Japan as a Junior Officer before you got the call.

Top Gun.

Returning to San Diego was… nostalgic. Being on the Miramar base even more so. You faced criticism of nepotism from your peers here as well; never mind that only the top two percent of naval aviators are invited to Top Gun to begin with. But you worked hard and proved your calling had more to do with wisdom and war than whose daughter you were. You came out of it with two friends: a pilot named Brigham Lennox, callsign: Harvard, and his WSO Logan Lee, callsign: Yale. Both of whom were the only two to wise up within the first day and realize you are so much more than your name.

It's also why the three of you were at the top of your class.

Afterward, Yale and Harvard are sent to Oceana, off the East Coast, where you knew Bradley had been based on his emails. And you were kept in state and sent to Lemoore. You preferred that, not that you'd say so. But being in-state meant being able to visit with Ice, even when you knew he wasn't doing so well, and it meant you could continue to avoid Bradley in peace. At Lemoore, you got placed with the VFA-14, the Tophatters, also known as the oldest currently active aircraft squadron in the US Navy. There's a lot of history attached there, a legacy to make proud of, as Ice and Viper would like to remind you when you'd join them for a monthly poker game.

Being stationed with the Tophatters came with two significant perks: Natasha Trace, callsign: Phoenix, and Jake Seresin, callsign: Hangman. Stationed with the VFA-41 (Black Aces) and VFA-151 (Vigilantes) respectively. Despite the fact that the two of them could not stand each other, you formed friendships with them both. In Natasha, you found someone who understood the uphill battle for women in service, but more than that, you found someone who kept it honest, called it like she saw it, and loved you for who you were.

With Jake, it was different. His bravado and charm worked, but not on you. Where other pilots got fed up with his cocky bullshit, you were able to stay leveled and see through. A benefit you shared once after a few beers of being raised by the best of the best. There must have been a sharper edge to your reminisces than you remember because Jake never made a nepo baby joke after that. A casual one here or there, but none at the heart of it, none with genuine malice. Not like he had in the beginning.

Jake allowed you to be. Rough edges and jagged ends. He kept your feet on the ground when you spent most of your day in the skies. You like to think you balanced him out a bit, too. Able to keep him from getting too stuck in the clouds, too sure of himself. You were always happy to knock him down a peg or two; truthfully, sometimes, he needed you to do so.

You found happiness on Commander, Carrier Wing Nine in the Strike Fighter Wing Pacific. You excelled in your squad and gained recognition and honors, ribbons that decorated your lapel. You talked with your dad, mostly about random things, given the confidentiality of both his and your assignments, but you found time. Ice and Sarah checked in, and Viper, too. And every time your feet were on solid ground, they found time for a barbecue or a poker game, or both, usually both.

You still read Bradley's emails. Bi-weekly had turned to monthly, and even then, they didn't come every month, but they did come, always with a reason, just as they had been for the last decade and change. You never could figure out why he kept sending them. You'd thought about replying, now, years after the rage and pain and grief you'd held onto had been let go of, nothing productive ever came from holding on too tight, you'd learned. But Bradley sent the emails, sometimes signing his name as Bradley or Rooster, but on the nostalgic ones, he'd always put Brad Brad, an olive branch, you knew, but you never could get yourself to click send on the drafts you'd write out, dozens of them sitting in the drafts folder as it was.

You'd found your space; it wasn't perfect, but it was yours.

And then you got recalled.

And so did 'Nix.

And Jake.

Then the email came in, and they're calling me back to Top Gun for some detachment. Maybe I could find time to come to Lemoore?

And then your dad hit Mach 10 and was missing in action for over five hours, only to be found in some small-town diner in the middle of nowhere Idaho.

He was sent back to Miramar, too.

And you were left wondering what the fuck was happening now, flying down with Phoenix and Hangman on your wings, and why it seemed to be colliding all the fragments of your world.

...

everything tags: @butterfly-skinnylegend

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

Things Learned and Unlearned Ch. 15

Series Summary: Y/N has spent her life trying to outrun her mother's reputation. When she meets the rich and successful playboy, Dean Winchester, how quickly can he get her to stop running?

Pairings/Characters: Dean Winchester x Y/N, Sam Winchester, Jessica Winchester, Lucy Winchester (OC)

Warnings: Each chapter will have it's own warnings, but there will be smut, seduction, virgin!reader, playboy!dean, Edwardian era BS attitudes surrounding sex and women. (Technically it's set in 1900 and the Edwardian era started in 1901, but you get it.) Angst, Fluff, all the good stuff that regularly pops up in my series. 😁

Chapter Warnings: None. Just angst and fluff.

Word Count: 3,343

A/N: So, here it is - Chapter 15, and the end of this series. I've been so grateful for all the wonderful reblogs and encouraging comments this fic has received as it's gone along week by week. Your support is the reason why it's finally completed.

It began life as just a few chapters from an orphaned fic of mine over on ff.net and now it's a fully completed Dean fic that I'm very proud of. 😊 So thanks again, and I hope you enjoy the end of this story, and feel it was worth the investment of your time. ❤️

Series Master List || Main Master List || Tag Lists

Four weeks later. January 1901.

Dean sat down heavily behind his mahogany desk and picked up his morning mail before immediately throwing it back down in annoyance. 

It will just be invitations and invoices, Dean thought, who cares?

He leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes and digging his fingers into them. He was hungover and had barely slept. He felt like he'd been hit with a brick building.

With a deep sigh, he opened the file in front of him and ran his hand over the top page. It was his copy of the deal that he’d finally signed a week ago.

Two weeks ago, George Taskett had called his secretary to arrange a meeting. When Dean showed up at the appointed time, George apologized profusely for what had happened at the theater.

“It’s taken me a little while to reach out to you because I wanted to be able to tell you that Byron Temple had been fired, and before I could do that, I needed to speak to the board about it first. But I can assure you now that he has been permanently removed from his position, and fired from our company. It seems that the board shared my concerns with his lack of moral character.”

George had told Dean that when they investigated a little bit, they’d discovered that the incident at The Manhattan hadn't been the first such incident for Temple. Dean was not surprised, and he was glad that the board of Northern Freight had been all too happy to show him the door.

So with Temple out of the picture, the deal had gone through as originally planned and all three companies were now set to make a lot of money. Winchester Shipping and Lumber was in the best shape it had ever been in.

But he still couldn't sleep at night.

As he tucked the file away, he heard a knock at the door and then Grant's voice when he opened it. Dean couldn't make out what he was saying to the visitor, but if it was anything other than, “come back another day”, Dean might have to fire him.

A minute later, however, Grant was in his doorway to announce his guest. But Dean didn't need the announcement, as he saw his baby brother's towering frame standing behind his butler.

Dean stood up with a frown, walking out from behind his desk as Grant left, and Sam entered his study. “What's wrong?” He asked without preamble.

Sam shook his head. “Nothing's wrong.”

Dean's scowl got deeper. “What do you mean ‘nothing’s wrong’? Then what are you doing here?”

Sam shrugged. “Just wanted to visit my brother.”

Dean crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back against his desk and fixing Sam with a look as he took a seat on one of the leather chairs across from Dean.

“You just wanted to visit?” Dean asked, his voice incredulous. “You thought you'd take a six hour train ride to just…drop in and say hi?”

“Sure.”

“Sam.”

“I just wanted to see how you're doing. See if you're alright.” Sam said innocently.

“Why wouldn't I be?”

Sam sighed. “Cause Y/N isn't.”

Dean's heart beat double time as he scowled again at his little brother. “Sam, honest to god…” He ran a hand through his hair. “This better not be the real reason you're here.”

“It is.” Sam said calmly.

“Well, then I'm sorry you wasted your money on a train ticket, along with six hours of your life.” He held up a finger. “No, twelve, actually, cause you're gonna leave now.”

Sam just continued to stare at him, annoying him profusely. Finally his little brother had the audacity to shake his head and scold him.

“Dean, why did you let her go? I saw you with her, saw you at Christmas. I know you love her.”

“Bullshit!” Dean barked at him, angrily. “You are imagining things, Sam, and I'm not interested in dredging up this same asinine conversation I already had with your wife.”

Sam nodded. “Yeah, she told me about it. Just made us even more sure that you were completely in love with Y/N. What we couldn't figure out is why you were so furious about the very idea of loving her.”

“Dammit Sam, drop this!” Dean shouted at him as he straightened up from the desk. 

Sam pointed at him. “Yeah, furious like that.” He shrugged. “But then…I think I figured it out “

"Oh, did you?" Dean asked with a death stare, feeling the panic start to rise up in him.

Sam's voice softened as he looked Dean in the eye. “You're afraid you'll end up like Dad.” 

Dean clenched his jaw and refused to respond.

But eventually Sam just shook his head. “You won't though.”

Fear and panic sat thick in Dean's throat, clogging his voice as he spoke. “You don't know that.”

Sam scoffed. “Yeah, I do.”

Silence reigned for a moment before Dean shuffled back and sat down behind his desk again. His head was pounding harder than ever.

He watched Sam for a while before he shook his head. “You don't remember him the way - I mean, obviously you couldn't remember him how he was. Before. But…” 

He scrubbed an exhausted hand down his face. “I remember. The way he was. I remember him laughing and smiling. The way he'd pick me up when he walked back in the door at the end of the day, ride me around on his shoulders…I remember all of it. And I remember when it was gone. He was like a completely different man. He might as well have died with her, cause he was gone and he never came back.”

Dean closed his eyes. “So, I swore to myself, I swore,” he emphasized, “that I would never do the same. I would NEVER love someone like that and then lose myself completely when they were gone.” 

He shook his head again and opened his eyes to pin Sam with another glare. “I just won't do it.”

Sam sat, quietly nodding for a moment before his brow wrinkled in thought. “Hmm…” He took a deep breath and spoke as he exhaled.

“Do you love me?”

Dean stared at him for a heartbeat before a red flush began climbing up his neck as he answered in a growl. “What are you talking about?”

But Sam just waved away his brother's words. “Nevermind, I already know you do. You love me a lot.”

Dean continued to glare at his annoying little brother, not sure what to even say to that.

“And I know you love Jess and Lucy too. Also a lot.”

“What is your point Sam?” He barked at him, although he thought he'd started to figure it out.

“I know this too, though.” Sam continued without answering him, “If anything ever happened to me or…Jess, or…” He didn't seem able to finish the horrible idea, and Dean felt his stomach churn and his chest ache at the mere thought. 

But Sam pushed on. “If something ever happened, you'd never abandon the ones left behind. You'd never leave us on our own.”

Dean bit his bottom lip, feeling his throat ache from his trapped feelings. 

“Oh yeah?” He asked doubtfully. “And how could you possibly be sure of that?” He smiled without humor. “I am my father's son, after all.”

Sam shrugged. “That may be, but you're also just Dean, my big brother. And he's the most selfless man I've ever known.”

Dean scoffed, but Sam continued over him. 

“You've never put yourself first. Not while you were raising me. Not when you went toe-to-toe with Dad for me, so I could go to law school. Not when you worked a second job outside the business, so that you could pay my whole tuition when Dad refused to pay for it with ‘company money’ as he called it.”

Dean couldn't look at Sam any longer, dipping his head to stare at the wood grain in his desk as his brother continued to heap undeserving praise on him.

“And ever since you took over the company, you've always put your employees first, you take care of them, you work twice as hard as you need to, and pay them a lot more than other companies do, to make sure they can live good, happy lives. I've seen your books, I know it's true.”

“So?” Dean cut into Sam's diatribe, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck. “Even if all of this praise was true, which it isn't, none of it proves that loving and losing someone wouldn't change all of that. Dad was a good man too, until he loved a woman and lost a woman.”

Sam tightened his jaw. “Maybe he was, but he was also a selfish bastard for abandoning us, for just going off to live alone with his grief and anger. You weren't even five years old, and you'd just lost your mother!” Sam huffed angrily. “He should have cared about that too. He should have cared about you, about us...not just the wife he lost.”

Dean's instinct was to defend their father, but he didn't. He'd begun to see that Sam was right; it had been pretty selfish.

“And I'm telling you,” Sam said with conviction, “if you and Y/N were lucky enough to be blessed with children, you would NEVER abandon them for any reason. Not ever. Because you. are not. our father.” 

Dean heard his little brother's words, and the freedom he found in them, surprised him. It felt like he could breathe deeply for the first time in a very long time. He felt a tear escape and he dashed it away quickly, turning his chair away from Sam and staring at the wall. 

After a moment of quiet, Sam spoke solemnly. "But none of this speculating about how you'd act IF you fell in love with Y/N really matters anyway. Because the plain and simple fact is, you're already in love with her.”

The words still made Dean's stomach clench, and he turned back to Sam and shook his head. “No, I refused, I wouldn't let myself love her.”

Sam rolled his eyes and breathed out harshly. “Damn! You really are a monumental idiot.”

Dean scowled at him, unimpressed with his opinion.

“Dean, you can't stop yourself from loving someone. You can't just control something like that.”

Dean felt the old, familiar panic start to rise in his chest. If he couldn't control it...if he really did love her already…then he'd already lost, and he'd never be free of her hold on him.

I don't wanna be free.

The intrusive thought leaked into his mind and he closed his eyes, trying desperately to deny it but-

“She's leaving.”

Dean's eyes popped open to stare at Sam. 

“What do you mean?” He asked quietly.

“She gave us her notice. She's leaving. Catching a train in a couple of days. That's why I came to shake some sense into you before it's too late. She's going west, says she wants to seek some adventure, but I know it's really because we're all just a constant reminder of you. She's been miserable this whole last month - trying very hard to hide it - but miserable.”

Dean felt a different kind of panic rising as he contemplated Y/N being on the other side of the country, living her life a million miles from his.

She'd get married to someone else - someone who didn't become paralyzed with fear at the thought of needing her in his life. He'd win her over, he'd make her smile, make her happy. He'd give her children; he'd be the damn compatible husband she'd always wanted, and give her the little cottage and respectable life she deserved. 

The exact life he'd told her to go and live just before he made love to her and then snuck out of the room before she woke, like a coward.

He looked at his little brother, desperate now for his help. “Shit. I walked away from her Sam. I left her a goddamn note cause I was too much of a coward to say goodbye to her face. Cause I knew if I spent another minute with her, I'd be so tempted to do anything she wanted, say anything she wanted, just to get her to stay. And I couldn't risk it.”

Sam gave him a scolding look and just shook his head.

Dean's voice was slightly forlorn. “What are the chances she forgives me for that?”

Sam shrugged. “Won't know till you try, coward.”

***

Y/N clutched the handle of her leather bag tightly, gripping it over and over, wearing it smooth from sheer worry. She recognized that traveling alone, to some remote California town she'd never been to was ludicrous and dangerous. But she just couldn't take it another day; she needed to get as far away as she could. 

Living with Sam and Jessica everyday, watching them in their happy, loving marriage, was simply more than she could handle. The fact that occasionally, when Sam smiled or frowned or laughed a certain way, a tiny piece of his big brother would appear on his face, well, that was just the knife in her heart that made leaving quickly a necessity.

So, here she was, on a bench on the train platform, waiting for a train to roll in and carry her away from endless reminders of Dean. But even just sitting on the bench reminded her that she'd first met him while she was sitting on a bench - on that cool day last fall, when he'd burned his way into her life, into her heart and then into her bed. Unfortunately, he'd also burrowed his way into her soul, and she knew he'd never leave.

Even now she imagined that she heard him calling her name over the screaming whistle of the steam engine that was pulling up beside her; it was the train that would take her away from everything she wanted to leave behind. Though she knew she'd never manage it completely.

Y/N frowned slightly as she looked up; she thought she heard his voice again. Was she truly going mad?

But then she saw him, running through the steam on the platform, coming towards her. She jumped up, completely confused, but somehow feeling like she needed to be on her feet.

“Dean?” She asked as he reached her. “Why are you…? What-”

Dean interrupted her. “Don't get on that train. Don't go. I have a proposition for you instead.”

Y/N felt her heart plummet. “Dean-”

“Marry me.”

Her words died in her throat and she just stared at him, her eyes bulging as she tried to work out what was going on.

“Oh,” she said almost sadly, “I've actually gone completely mad now.”

But Dean was shaking his head. “No, sweetheart, I was the crazy one. I was the one who thought I could simply wish away, or will away loving you, but I should have known it was never gonna work.”

Y/N returned to being simply speechless, eyes wide and staring once again, as Dean continued, his voice sincere and ardent.

“Sweetheart, I'm so sorry I didn't stick around to say goodbye. Hell, I'm sorry I even tried to say goodbye in the first place. I'm sorry I was too much of a coward to let myself love you, or admit to it anyway. Seems like I didn't really have much say in the matter. Apparently trying desperately to not love someone, doesn't actually stop you from loving them. Who knew?" He said with a lopsided smile and a shrug.

Still smiling, he took another step towards her and his voice was strong and sure. "But I'm mostly sorry that I didn't wrap my arms around you the very first time I saw you, and absolutely refuse to let you go.”

“That's actually kidnapping!”

Y/N whipped around to see Sam and Jessica standing behind her on the platform with Lucy between them. Jessica slapped Sam's arm for his sarcastic comment. 

“Shush. He's trying.” She waved at Dean and called to him. “You're doing great, champ! Keep going!” 

“Give her the ring, Uncle Dean. Ladies like rings!” Lucy shouted.

Y/N started crying and laughing in the same breath, and nearly choked. But as Dean nodded at his niece and got down on one knee, tears won out and she started crying noisily.

He gazed up at her with a soft smile and slightly glassy eyes. “I wasn't planning to do this with an audience, and I have a lot to explain to you, I know, about why I was such an idiot and how stupid I was to be afraid of loving you.”

“Quit reminding her she'll be marrying a moron!” Sam called out again, and Y/N heard Jessica smack him again. But she couldn't take her eyes off of the massive ring that sat in the velvet box Dean opened and presented to her.

It was a Tiffany's box, she noticed, and inside was a beautiful diamond ring, with a small round emerald in the very center.

“I love you so much, Y/N, and I know I don't deserve you, but please say yes anyway.”

“Yes!” She shouted, taking the box from him and then throwing her arms around his neck, letting him stand up and twirl her around, laughing with him through her tears.

Everyone on the platform clapped happily, as Dean kissed her. 

Sam covered Lucy's eyes but she pushed his hand away, clapping loudly at the little fairytale that had played out for her.

As Dean pulled back, he slipped the ring onto her finger and ran his thumb over her knuckles, before raising her hand to his mouth and kissing the back of it, just like he did the very first day they'd met. It still had the power to make her stomach flutter.

“Do you like it?” He asked, touching the emerald in the center of her ring.

Remembering her prediction that emeralds would always make her cry, brought on even more of those predictable tears. She was happy beyond measure that she'd been both right and wrong about that.

“Yes, I love it.” She said as she kissed him sweetly and then gazed into his bright green eyes. “And I love you, Dean. So much.”

“Thank God. Just...just don't stop. Please?”

Y/N nodded. "Promise." She whispered.

Dean sighed against her lips before claiming them once again.

***

The St. Louis World's Fair. Spring 1904. 

“Lucy Winchester! You've had more than enough of that spun sugar now, come back over here and hold your brother's hand.”

Jessica ran after her six year old with her two year old in tow, until Sam grabbed him up and settled him against his chest. With her hands now free, Jessica grabbed a protesting Lucy away from the cotton candy cart.

Y/N laughed at her former student's frustrated little face and decided to try and help her sister-in-law out. “Luce come here; your cousin needs your help.”

Jessica let go of Lucy's hand so she could run back to her aunt and uncle. Y/N and Dean walked behind them a little ways, with their one year old, Melody, toddling somewhat unsteadily between them.

Y/N let Lucy take Melody's hand. “She loves walking with you and you're so good at showing her just how a real lady walks.”

Lucy beamed proudly as she immediately slowed her pace to allow Melody to keep up, and then walked very sedately to help her little cousin learn how to be a lady.

Jessica smiled brightly over her shoulder and mouthed, thank you to Y/N who laughed lightly. Dean reached over and took her hand now that it was free, swinging it gently back and forth.

Suddenly Y/N remembered Christmas day three years ago and how she'd imagined going to the World's Fair, and walking hand in hand just like this.

There were no cherry trees beside them and the crowds were fairly thick on the pathways around the fair, which meant they were jostled around a bit more than she'd imagined in her idyllic fantasy.

But the feelings she'd imagined back then were exactly the same. Family. Love. Belonging. She stepped closer to Dean and rested her head on his shoulder, squeezing his hand tighter.

He kissed the crown of her head and then whispered to her. “Happy, sweetheart?”

She looked up at him and gave him a mischievous smile. “Happier if you'd kiss me.” 

He pretended to be scandalized. “Mrs. Winchester? In public? In full view of the children?”

Y/N laughed happily, making her in laws look back at them and smile.

Dean leaned down and kissed the tip of her nose. “That's all my strict moral fiber will allow for.” He said in pretentious tones.

Y/N pouted at him playfully and he dipped his head to whisper against the shell of her ear, making her shiver.

“But Mel is sleeping in her cousins’ room with the nanny tonight. So later, in the privacy of our hotel room, I plan on kissing every writhing, shaking inch of your body until you -”

“Auntie!” Y/N was yanked back to reality as Lucy called to her, excitedly. “Melody said my name!”

Trying to ignore the raging fire her husband had kindled within her, Y/N smiled down at Lucy. 

“Well, I'm not surprised. She loves her big cousin.”

Lucy smiled widely before she dropped Melody's hand to run up and tell her parents her good news. Melody started to fuss over her cousin leaving, until Dean scooped her up to sit on his shoulders; then she squealed happily, thrilled to be up so high.

Y/N just watched Dean for a moment, her eyes watering slightly as she thought about how heartbroken she'd been on that Christmas day so long ago, when she'd believed this life was forever beyond her reach.

Dean looked down at her and she picked up his hand again, pressing close to him.

“I love you, you know.”

His beautiful green eyes were warm and overflowing with happiness as he bent his head slightly, holding Melody tightly so she didn't slip, and kissed Y/N senseless. Despite his earlier moral protestations, his kiss was slow and deep and it stole all the air from her lungs.

He pulled back from her and the look of love in his eyes stole her breath all over again as he answered.

"I love you too, sweetheart." He kissed her forehead and spoke softly, for her ears only. "Thanks for teaching me how."

Jensen RPF and Any/All Characters:

@lyarr24

@lacilou

@deans-spinster-witch

@globetrotter28

@alwaystiredandconfused

@suckitands33

*

@jackles010378

@evznackles

@impala67rollingthroughtown

@candy-coated-misery0731

@krazykelly

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@envyaurora95

@spnwoman

@deans-baby-momma

@arcannaa

@luvr4miya

*

@viviwatchestv

@winharry

@ladysparkles78

Dean Fics Only:

@kr804573

*

@roonthelittlespoon920

@slamminmine

@zepskies

@safiyas-world

Any/All Fics Regardless of Character or Fandom:

@aylacavebear

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@kazsrm67

@slut-for-evans-stan

@sexyvixen7

@nancymcl

@hobby27

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Everything Incl. Fan Edits:

@waywardcheshire

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@k-slla

@leigh70

@eevvvaa

@kickingitwithkirk

@notinthislife50

@foxyjwls007

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@roseblue373

@mishkatelwarriorgoddess

@avanatural

@all-alone-he-turns-to-stone

@mrsjenniferwinchester

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@deangirl96

@stoneyggirl2

@fanfic-n-tabulous

[norcani]

DAI MOD GUIDE (for the first time player)

I made one of those for origins for newcomers for veilgaurd, and this is the dai version (da2 doesn't get one because there really aren't enough mods I'd rec for a first play)

preamble aim of this guide is to turn dai into a game that respects your time more and tries your patience less. There are both major and minor changes, and you can pick and chose what to use. I used all of those mods together so there should be no conflict between anything on the list. There are two major mod managers for dai, but for this guide you have to use frosty mod manager.

It should be ok to use all of those as a first time player, as while they change the experience, I'd argue you're not really missing out on anything beyond annoyance.

Note on frosty mod manager: people will swear up and down it is hard to use, increases loading times, and adds crashes. None of this is remotely my experience. There are dozens of both video and text guides, so I won't elaborate further here. However one important note is load order. Mods loaded LAST overwrite the rest. If I say load x after y that means y should be further to the bottom in the mod manager.

Note on hair mods and retextures: I won't recommend any as it is subjective, but you should know dai is very finicky with them, especially in the dlc where they can cause the game to crash. I will add a section to alleviate issues as much as possible under misc if you chose to use hair mods/retextures.

Bug Fixes skip section if: you love bugs?

https://www.nexusmods.com/dragonageinquisition/mods/1992 -> misc bug fixes

https://www.nexusmods.com/dragonageinquisition/mods/3603?tab=files -> dai is notoriously bad with triggering party banter, in some cases it not triggering at all the whole game. You can select any of the files in main file to change the trigger rate (personally using 10 min). Also grab the level fixes.

Fixing Wicked Hearts skip section if: you enjoy pointless time limits and item hunts. at the same time. Or if you're too concerned about changing the experience too much (for the better).

https://www.nexusmods.com/dragonageinquisition/mods/3309?tab=files -> makes the doors the plot is hiding behind that are only accessible via random collectibles you are punished for searching for just open from the start. It also removes "court approval drain" which if you are a first time player, essentially is a mechanic that disallows you to take your time while exploring in this quest. (note: there are mods that do only one or the other of what this mod does, but I have not tested them and I can't recommend)

https://www.nexusmods.com/dragonageinquisition/mods/1528 -> allows your whole party to be in the non-combat portion of the quest

~immersion~ skip this section if: this is all very subjective, Essential as far as I am concerned, but ymmw

https://www.nexusmods.com/dragonageinquisition/mods/3561 -> show full lines in the dialogue wheel instead of paraphrases.

https://www.nexusmods.com/dragonageinquisition/mods/2220 -> conversation camera zoom. There is a LOT of dialogue in the game and most conversations don't get dedicated cutscenes. The camera remains in the zoomed out exploration position during them. This mod zooms the camera in during the talks to give a more origins style talking head feeling. There is still no animations (besides lip sync) of course, it only zooms the camera.

https://www.nexusmods.com/dragonageinquisition/mods/3482 for some reason the default expression all characters have is pissed the fuck off. This mod makes the default face neutral instead. That's all.

Open world fixes: Skip section if: you enjoy open world gathering missions….very much.

https://www.nexusmods.com/dragonageinquisition/mods/1442 -> search radius increase. you will spend a lot of time in the open world frantically spamming your search key to find a random piece of trash. This increases your search radius so you can find your random piece of trash with less clicks of the button.

https://www.nexusmods.com/dragonageinquisition/mods/3528 -> less shards. Makes it so you need to find slightly less of the pieces of trash mentioned above.

https://www.nexusmods.com/dragonageinquisition/mods/788 -> quicker looting with several options. so you can pick up your pieces of trash faster.

War Table fixes: (war table operations are text missions that are essentially small chose your own adventure sections, where you chose how to deal with off-screen conflicts) Skip section if: you like the idea of real world timer based text only sections.

https://www.nexusmods.com/dragonageinquisition/mods/2755 -> complete war table operations instantly. Dai has a real time timer based on war table operations, which you can only access from your base. Which means most often you will get the operation complete notification while youre in the open world, then you will have to go back to your base and to your war room and then read the report and send them to the next mission. This is a massive waste of your time. (note: load this last after any other mods modifying war table missions)

https://www.nexusmods.com/dragonageinquisition/mods/4127 -> better war table gather operations. By default "gather" operations give you a laughable amount of resources like 6 pieces. This increases the amount found in each, but also adds back the time limit removed by the above for those specific operations. To avoid this load this BEFORE the instant mod above.

Misc: https://www.nexusmods.com/dragonageinquisition/mods/2051 -> speed launch. Because you probably already know who made the game and don't need a reminder every time you launch.

https://www.nexusmods.com/dragonageinquisition/mods/2712 , https://www.nexusmods.com/dragonageinquisition/mods/3439 -> hair and texture fixes (only necessary if you use retexture or hair mods) note that I still experienced texture glitches with these, though no dlc crashes.

https://www.nexusmods.com/dragonageinquisition/mods/2120?tab=description -> adds all crafting materials to a shop in your base. now this is basically a cheat, but sometimes you DON'T want to go out and search for random material for an hour because you are 1 short for the armor you wanted to make.

[baconcolacan]

ColaLosers vs TomTord: Different Fonts - Same Font Family [short essay]

ColaLosers is rivals-to-lovers and TomTord is enemies-to-lovers. That’s the main talking point of this post. I could end this here, but I really REALLY want to gab about them so indulge me.

It’s probably obvious by now but I’m such an avid fan of the rivals-to-lovers and enemies-to-lovers trope, and yes, I do differentiate the two, but I also think they share an umbrella under the ‘antagonistic’ branch of the relationship types. They’re in the same family, but not exactly the same thing. To me, they are very closely tied to each other but only in a way that they can be viewed as two sides of the same coin, except one side is a bit shinier than the other.

Moving that pretentious preamble aside, this whole yapping session is just me explaining how I personally see ColaLosers and TomTord’s relationships, so buckle down a bit and listen to me over analyze two fictional fanon gay relationships.

Like I said above, there is a lot of overlap in how their relationships are portrayed by the fandom, but I really do think there’s a fundamental difference between the two with regards to the people who are involved in them. Now I’ll be very very subjective about this, because I know that my opinion isn’t shared by the fandom collective, we aren’t a monolith, so take whatever I say next as a personal take and doesn’t reflect everybody’s interpretations, even if I might sound like I’m preaching gospel truth with how I word things.

My opinion is formed by most of what I consumed from eddsworld [of course. i.e. eddisodes and comics] plus whatever crumbs we have of Tord [of course] so it might not even be accurate but like I said; this is the musings of a queer man over analyzing fictional fanon gay relationships.

So, ColaLosers, to me in the fandom they’re very peak rivals-to-lovers. Eduardo does have some unaddressed grievances with Edd, which drives a lot of his actions against him, but all in all, this really just comes out to a competitive drive that he cultivates between the two of them. While yes, he doesn’t like Edd for upstaging him in their past, and quite possibly giving him a minor trauma and inferiority complex, his reaction to him would at most be resentment and at the least irritation.

It doesn’t mean his negative feelings towards Edd is light of course, but his way to go about it is to create competition when he finds opportunity, albeit a little unfair as he doesn’t inform Edd about them, but sometimes he does, like when they both agree to art competitions or when he gives Edd the chance to one up him if he can. See hammer and fail, though he’s very mocking about it and makes a spectacle out of the situation, but we can argue that he’s trying to recreate his minor trauma to make Edd feel what he felt in that moment.

Eduardo, while petty and catty, really just wants to facilitate competition with Edd, partially to prove that he can be at the same level as him or more [mostly more], and he has shown that he’s able to show care about Edd [see PowerEdd] and would rather have them settle their score one-to-one without much outside interference.

In a ColaLosers lens, you can see this as him wanting to have Edd’s full attention focused solely on him, he isn’t looking for approval from people around them, though he may have once wanted that, he’s looking to have Edd’s acknowledgement, someone who everybody seemed to love on principle. Every time he does something, or accomplishes something, who does he tell first? Edd. If he could have his approval, it was more than enough, worth more than enough.

On Edd’s side, the relationship feels like something that drives him to be better. Usually, Edd doesn’t seem to mind the world around him, or what other people think or are doing, while he does have a penchant for competition, it’s mostly on the average level where he strives to prove that he can win it, like most people might when finding themselves in a competitive environment.

When it comes to Eduardo though, he seems to take it a lot more seriously. It might have started out as mild irritation, but Eduardo’s insistence to take his first place, and not a first place, has made him more inclined to defend his position with gusto rather than to prove something, because usually he has nothing to prove, why should he? It usually goes his way, woopie! And if it doesn’t? Who cares? It was dumb anyway.

But with Eduardo, ooh, a point lost to Eduardo would incense him.

Eduardo seems to be the only person who can push his buttons and fuel his drive, usually Edd’s the one who does the gloating, but Eduardo targets him specifically and that just drives him up the wall.

I like characterizing Edd as someone who has a subtle MC syndrome [lmao], and Eduardo is the only person to rip him from his fantasy that the world revolves around him [double lmao. EDDSworld], and that his spotlight could very easily be taken if he isn’t doing his best to defend it.

So yes, ColaLosers, they have an antagonistic relationship, but they aren’t praying for each others’ downfalls, not genuinely at least, and they foster the relationship through competitions and verbal jabbing.

I feel like Edd and Eduardo already know the kind of people they are, while there is room for growth, they’re sure of their positions in life, which makes their relationship already grounded on sure footing, the only thing left for them to do is to learn how to stop stepping on each others’ toes when they dance to their respective songs. They aren’t opposites, in fact, I would say that they’re very similar to each other [lol]. It would be easy for them to compromise, even if their egos don’t outwardly let them or show it. Plus, they might even enjoy their little back and forths.

Now, TomTord, ough good god, this ship is the death of me. I have been obsessed with this dynamic for such a long time, especially since I’m a fan of opposites attracting. Unlike ColaLosers however, they are the enemies-to-lovers ship, and I do mean enemies.

Tom and Tord have never seen eye to eye, they might have started as rivals, but they are unable to fully reign themselves in before they take it too far, unlike how I view what Edd and Eduardo do. Sure the latter can cause some damage to each other, but it doesn’t seem to become as lasting and bitter than when the former do it.

To be honest, I think Tord was the one to try and start a ‘friendly’ rivalry with Tom, but he wasn’t good at reading the kind of person that Tom was as they grew together. Seeing as Edd was his best friend, he might have mistakenly tried to carry over his friendship with Edd, into whatever relationship he was trying to foster with Tom. Edd is much more cavalier about things than Tom is, as despite acting like he doesn’t care, Tom is a very emotional person who’s just good at hiding away his feelings when he’s hurt. Tord could have mistakenly thought that Tom could handle what he dishes out, but Tom instead got hurt and started to harbor a growing resentment for him that was seeded by very negative feelings.

Tom is also known to lash out angrily, so it would be no surprise if Tord and he got into a very bad altercation, it might not even be physical, just really bad, where you know that hurtful, personal, and threatening things may have been said.

I genuinely think that, despite growing up together, Tom and Tord didn’t give each other time to understand the kind of persons they were, not caring enough to get to know each other on a deeper level and instead making assumptions about each other, and with Tom being very quick to anger and retaliate, and Tord perhaps taking things too personally and refusing to back down, their irritation with each other could very well become openly hostile as the years go by.

They do not know how to compromise.

Tom doesn’t care [at least when it comes to Tord], and Tord doesn’t want to learn.

They’re both convinced that the other is a straight-a douchebag. Tom thinks Tord is self-centered and grossly, maliciously, petty, and any positive thing about him, be it his devil-may-care attitude or extroverted tendencies, is extremely overshadowed by his flaws.  Meanwhile Tord thinks Tom is an angry asshole who gets ticked off at every minor thing, although Tord acknowledges that Tom is smart and can truly get in his way if he really put an effort into it, which to be honest, is somewhat of a backhanded compliment considering he thinks he puts his emotions first before logic.

They both have very strong personalities, but their selfishness and self-centered mentalities gets in the way of good personal growth, they both have a lot of issues as far as I can tell. Relationship-wise, they have already shown each other the worst of themselves, and would keep to their hostile relationship if they aren’t willing to disregard their preconceived notions.

I think, really, that any relationship they could start at this stage would purely stem from rage, and would most likely only be physical at the start [emotions are high, and loathing feels very similar to love on a physiological level], it won’t be a very good relationship as neither party is willing to compromise. It’s a doomed relationship, even from the very beginning.

To be honest, they need time apart, so Tord leaving could be a blessing in disguise, their [lets face it] obsession with each other is distracting them from their own personal growth, and becoming a healthier person requires a lot of vulnerability and ‘softness’ that they would refuse to show each other or would find shame in. Without a distracting outlet in their lives [i.e. them antagonizing each other], they would be forced to face the negativities about themselves without fully taking it out on someone else like they are wont to do with each other.

I think they both have the potential to compliment each other [be it good or bad depending on who you ask] but they need time and space to figure out who they are first before trying any sort of relationship with each other, they need to address their own issues before a good and healthy relationship can form. And with their old perspectives on each other, they would be very pleasantly surprised to discover the person behind all that negative light, and find that, well, he could be someone who could understand them, as they had already seen them at their worst.

I find it endearing for love to bloom when the other person had already seen your ugly parts, and slowly get to know the good in you, it’s very easy to fall in love with someone you already feel so strongly about, only to find that they aren’t as bad as you think, especially when it all stems from a misunderstanding, like I believe TomTord to be.

Also, its funny when they get together and be the cattiest fucking gay couple you know, they’ll be gossiping about everybody and be totally vile about it, but what does that matter to them? They’re both assholes, and they love each other, the outside world doesn’t exist to them, they live in their bubble and can be horrible together if they so wished. What’s a more devoted action than pressing the nuke button on everyone together? Date night would be a blast.

Anyway, that’s it I think, thanks for listening, this was awful, goodnight.

[inators]

From that one prompt that said 'Heinz Doofenshmirtz has died'

The main console nearly bowed to the power of Perry's fists as he slammed them down, chair behind him clattering to the ground from the force at which he stood. He glared up at the screen, murder in his eyes and a ferocious curl to his lip. That was not funny.

Major Monogram and Carl glanced at each other, then back down at Perry with some amount of trepidation. Everyone knew of Perry's less-than-professional connection to Heinz Doofenshmirtz; they just didn't know how deep that connection ever went. "We understand that this might come as a bit of a... shock. We just got the news ourselves."

Perry's fists clenched even harder, if such were possible; his nails dug into his palms as he ground his teeth. Heinz, dead? Impossible. He had just thwarted him yesterday. The resultant explosion from his self-destruct button shouldn't have been near enough to cause serious harm. Not to the most resilient man he knew. Could it be? Did someone finally manage to thwart his nemesis? But that was his job. Who else... What else...?

( If this was Peter's work, he thought savagely, then OWCA would have a rogue agent on its hands in no time flat. )

「Show him to me,」demanded the agent without preamble, his signage snapped out restlessly. He held up a finger when Carl opened his mouth to object.「Now.」

Carl pressed a button. A pneumatic tube appeared next to Perry, which he tried not to hurry into. His mind was still reeling from the news... If it was news. Some elaborate plan, perhaps — or a duplicate, a clone, a doppelgänger of some sort. He'd cloned Perry before. Why not himself? He felt sick. His stomach was tying itself in knots. It was as if his body knew, even if he refused to believe it himself. Don't be dead, Heinz, he prayed, his heart beginning to ache as its beat thundered in his ears. Don't. Don't. Don't.

The morgue was clean in a way that was disturbing even to Perry. Every inch of it gleamed with a sickening promise. I will take him, it whispered as Perry exited the tube. I will take him and tear him apart.

He was so small.

Perry swallowed hard and approached the gurney, his body beginning to shake. Monogram and Carl stood nearby the tube, but he didn't care about his audience just now. Heinz — wonderful, ridiculous, extraordinary Heinz — lay there cold and lifeless. His arms were missing; someone had put them to the side in preparation for the autopsy, he guessed, but it only served to make his nemesis look... Tiny. Frail. Helpless. His fingers danced over his narrow forehead, down his cheek and along his neck where he finally stopped to check for a pulse. He bent, listening for a cough, a breath, anything, but nothing came. His own breath caught in his throat. No. No-no-no.

Ever so slowly, ever so painfully, Perry realized that yes, he was looking at his esteemed beloved cherished nemesis. He could remember every burn, every scar, both pink and grey, old and new. They were all there. Every single mark, every single story, mapped out on the stiff body displayed before him.

Perry choked.

Was he sick, or was that a sob? There was a constriction in his throat that he didn't recognize, and a wetness in his eyes that he refused to name. He breathed hard through his mouth, tried to let the pressure out, but he couldn't. For once, Perry the Platypus couldn't control himself. His fingers clenched on the side of the gurney as he tried and failed to stem his tears, determinedly blinking them away. Heinz wouldn't want him to cry. He would never want Heinz to see him crying. He needed to be the personification of unstoppable, dynamic fury that Heinz knew. For Heinz, he needed to be Agent P.

I never got to tell you, he lamented, and let his fingers trace over Heinz's cheek again. I never got to tell you... but I will show you.

He took one last look at Heinz, not knowing what his expression looked like — not wanting to know what his expression looked like — and turned away, heading back for the tube.

"Agent P — " Monogram tried; but Perry shouldered past him and took the tube back to his lair, where he shouldered his jetpack and headed straight for Doofenshmirtz Evil, Inc. He would find out who did this if it took his last breath.

And they would pay.

[daydream-cement]

The Horror Movie

Captain Phasma x Reader

Phasma protects you from the horror movie

Author's Note: PHAS IS A SECRET SOFTIE BUT DON'T TELL HER I TOLD YOU. this is the third week of spooky season with @alexusonfire! the prompt for the week is horror movies!!!

“This is a ridiculous ritual.” 

The captain sat cross-armed on the couch, her face forming her usual scowl. You dropped down next to her, tv remote control in hand, and flicked between channels to look for the perfect Halloween movie. 

“Most people watch horror movies this time of year.” You explain, shifting your body closer to hers so you could lean your head on her muscular shoulder. “I think you would prefer this over a children’s movie. 

Phasma shifted in her seat, pretending that she didn’t enjoy the feeling of you snuggling into her side. She mumbled as she glared at the tv screen, “I am not most people, and yes, I do not want to watch a children’s movie.”

You snort at her words, knowing she was dead serious. 

Continuing to flip through the various shows and movies, you finally land on the opening credits of a horror movie. You hadn’t watched many horror movies since you were a teenager and even then you found them too scary to watch - but that had been years ago... surely you were over your fear of horror movies now. 

The preamble to the movie was filled with suspense for the death and torture to come. 

This wasn’t exactly what had you terrified. It wasn’t until the first person was killed that you found your heart beating a little faster. 

With every little moment you expected the antagonist to pop out, you felt your hands winding around Phasma’s bicep. You chewed at the inside of your cheek, eyes fastening shut as you anticipated various jump scares. In contrast, Phasma’s facial expression remained mildly disinterested for the majority of the movie. 

Midway through the movie, her hand dropped to your thigh and gave it a squeeze in an attempt to comfort you. She turned her gaze down at you, her nose against your temporal bone as she whispered in your ear, “Is this really too scary for you?”

You knew Phasma well enough that her judgemental tone was just her natural way of speaking. 

Rather than answering, you shook your head ‘no’ as you continued watching. The blonde extended an arm around your shoulders and she turned her attention back to the tv, speaking protectively, “This isn’t real and nothing bad will happen to you.”

As the gore and intensity of the movie increased, so did Phasma’s commentary of how ridiculous the movie was. “Are you kidding me? Being stabbed there does not result in that much blood. The creators clearly have no clue what they were writing about.” 

Her hateful words caused a small smile to tug at the corner of your mouth - only for the smile to fade as another round of suspense built as the murderer worked their way down the hall to try and kill the main character. 

Phasma’s voice spoke up again. This time it was twinged with even more venom, “They aren’t even holding the knife correctly. That is no practical way to stab another human. If anything they are going to hurt themselves by holding it that way.”

Her words brought the smile back to your face. 

“The killer is a fucking moron. Why would you announce yourself if you wanted to kill someone? Just go in the home and kill her.” The captain sank back into the couch cushions, pulling you to lean back against her chest as her arm wound around your front for her forearm to rest protectively over your chest. 

 “I suppose you could do better?”

“Damn right I could, but if it were me, this movie would be ten minutes tops.” Phasma smirked at her own comment, her cheek leaning against your temple. 

The blonde’s commentary continued through the rest of the movie causing you to smirk and giggle through its entirety. Only if you could have seen the clearly pleased grin on Phasma’s face at how she was clearly soothing your fears. 

It seemed as though Phasma knew exactly every twist and turn that was to come. Her thumb brushed back and forth over your collarbone and she knew exactly when to distract you with her own criticisms of the film. Eventually, you turned your face away from the tv, your forehead against her jaw as you listened to her speak - the suspenseful music only secondary to the soothing presence of your girlfriend. 

That night you never even had the opportunity to finish the movie - the lower register of Phasma’s voice ended up lulling you to sleep. 

When the credits rolled, Phasma squeezed your shoulder, shaking you awake, “Time for bed, little trooper.”

“Did she live? Or did the killer get her?” You mumble sleepily. 

“She lived, but there was no way she could have killed them by using one of their traps against them... Absolutely stupid...” The captain slipped an arm under your knees and braced one behind your back, lifting you up as she stood. “I still can’t comprehend why we watched this for your Halloween rituals. I’m assuming it is just as silly as a children’s program.”

“Tomorrow we can watch one about three witches, okay?”

“I don’t think I will enjoy that, but okay.” Phasma shrugged as she carried you to the bedroom and deposited you on the bed. “Is there at least something enjoyable about this one?”

“They try to kill all of the children in the town.”

Phasma nodded, stone faced, “I suppose I could find something enjoyable about that.” 

Taglist: @charymobile, @bri-sonat, @weemswife, @smutuniversesblog, @opheliauniverse, @enchantressb , @renravens @scream-queenlover , @shyladyfan , @mcufanisme , @peanutbutterprincess , @larissaoftarthweems , @principal-weems09 , @imlike-so-gaydude , @emilynissangtr , @xuukoo , @brienneswife , @oculusalien , @giogwensversion , @milciak @gela123 , @thevillagegay , @katiemcgrathsbitch1 , @naomi-m3ndez , @salems-spaghettios , @imgayforwoman69 @bychrissi , @h-doodles , @alexusonfire , @weemssapphic, @hiiamkatana, @lilfartbox1, @mountain-bikingwitch, @willowshadenox, @aemilia19, @agathaandgwenslesbian, @gay-frogs08  

[gremoria411]

Zeon Remnants: Why so many?

*Spoilers for most of the Universal Century Below*

So a common criticism of Universal Century I see is that it’s essentially all Zeon Remnants, all the time. That it every antagonist to the Earth Federation is either a Zeon remnant or related to such and it makes the universal century feel smaller.

That is 100% a valid criticism.

However, it’s not something I particularly notice as a problem, so I figured I’d make a post delving into my reasons why. I’ll be talking about each of the “main” Zeon groups (The Principality of Zeon, The Delaz Fleet, Axis Zeon, Char’s Neo Zeon and The Sleeves) and I’ll talk about why Zeon are so frequently the antagonist. Alright, enough preamble, let’s get on with it.

Why don’t I have a problem with Zeon always showing up, all the time?

Because I usually consider each Zeon group its own thing. Like, yeah the aesthetics and some mobile suits tend to match up but they typically have…. If not different goals, then different cultures. It’s not just the same thing all the time.

I’ll be dividing them by roughly four factors:

Motivations - *Why* are they fighting, how unified are they?

Size - big force or little force, since it affects how they fight.

Newtypes - Oh hey, it’s just possibly one of their more important contributions to the setting in general. Kinda important. Focusing more on how they’re used and how they’re seen.

Mechanics - Mobile suits and overall tech level for the time.

The Principality of Zeon

First up, the good ol’ Principality of Zeon. The P of Z, if you will. Founded by Degwin Sodo Zabi in the aftermath of Zeon Zum Deikun’s death in U.C. 0068. Rapid Militarisation of Side 3 (Munzo), the colonies composing Zeon followed, with what would become the One Year War being declared in UC 0079. It’s sometimes known as “The Duchy of Zion” in older translations.

It’s a little unclear *why* war was declared, but the official line and the view of the average citizen would be that it was a war of Independence from the Earth Federation. Zeon Zum Deikun (who Zeon was named after) was the father of Contolism, a philosophy that combines two major elements:

Elseim - The Earth is Sacred, and must be protected (The Earth is Humanity’s Cradle, but man cannot live in the cradle forever-type stuff, with a big focus on environmentalism).

Sideism - All Space Colonies should be independent from the Earth Federation (This is where all the “Those whose souls are still bound by gravity”-type stuff comes from).

And nestled riiight in the middle of those two is the Newtype Theory, which postulates that ascending into space is the next stage of mankind’s evolution, giving rise to a “new type” of individual, with the ability to communicate over great distances and divides.

Due to Class divides and economic disparity between the Earth Federation “elite” and the Space Colonists (particularly those in Side 3), Contolism was massively popular, with Zeon Zum Deikun being raised to leader of Side 3. However, he died suddenly and (apparently) appointed Degwin Zabi as his successor. Degwin would instigate a purge of Zeon’s most loyal followers, and place his children in high ranking political positions, ruling the Principality of Zeon as absolute dictator. It’s unclear if Degwin declared war as the logical conclusion of the Contolism Philosophy to wrest Earth from the Federation, if he viewed it as a way to secure greater power or if he genuinely wanted to rule the entire earth sphere.

What I’m getting at here is that your average Zeon soldier believes he is fighting for the Independence of the Space Colonies and the safeguarding of Earth against the Federation Elites who seek to exploit it. The higher command however, is incredibly fractious, since each one is operating under a different member of the Zabi Family, and so there tends to be a lot of friction. Even if Zeon had won the OYW, it’s likely it would’ve had to deal with a Civil War at some point or another (dependant on which members of the Zabi family survived).

Zeon is also notable in that it’s the single largest organisation here, and since mobile suit combat was relatively new, it fought with a lot more variety than any of its successors, such as tanks and mobile armours. It also had the advantage of, with the notable exception of the RX-78 and its derivatives, being far better off than the Earth Federation technologically, possessing advanced mobile suits and actual Newtype research (important note; With one singular exception, it is never suggested that Zeon’s Newtype laboratories are anything less than above-board. Are they under immense pressure to succeed? Absolutely. But crucially, they aren’t inhuman). It had a large variety of mobile suits - usually a few good “workhorse” units (Zaku’s and Dom’s) with a bunch of oddities on the side (like Gyan’s and Zakarello’s).

Lastly, the One Year War itself. This is a point I’ll be coming back to frequently throughout this, but; The Federation possessed a major population and material advantage over the Principality of Zeon for the entire war, and was able to deploy a staggering amount of enlisted soldiers into the war. Zeon possessed the advantage of mobile suits early on, but they were also forced to mobilise a great many soldiers. Both Sides of the One Year War lost half of their respective populations in the early stages of the war (The One Week Battle) and Side 4 Moore was utterly devastated. What I’m getting at is that there would be an awful lot of individuals with millitary training and/or technological know-how running around after the war, as occurred in the real-world World War II and Cold War (strictly speaking I’m looking at them being an easy source of millitary experience in genre fiction, but you get the idea). So you have a lot of Ex-Soldiers and remaining military equipment hanging around, and a lot of people with “legitimate grievances” to hate the other side (Warcrimes on both sides, The Earth Federation essentially doesn’t change, Zeon Remnants remain an active problem with several becoming pirates and there’s a lot of Federation “mop-up” teams going around, the precursors to the Titans).

So, The Principality of Zeon in a nutshell; Principled reasoning (i.e. Contolism), massive force, Newtypes rare and incredibly valued (since they’re essentially a living reminder of why they’re fighting and a massive force multiplier), mobile suits essentially brand new and largely experimental.

The Delaz Fleet (and Zeon Remnants in general)

The Delaz Fleet was formally created in U.C. 0081, being primarily composed of former Gihren Zabi Loyalists from the Principality of Zeon, led by Aigulle Delaz (above, left). They were most famous for Operation Stardust in U.C. 0083. I’m also going to be discussing Zeon Remnant groups in general here, since the Delaz Fleet is essentially just a very large and successful Zeon remnant group. Delaz’ goal is relatively simple - vengeance. Delaz wishes to deal a hefty blow to the federation, largely to avenge the Principality’s loss at a Baoa Qu, with much of his forces feeling similarly (note: it’s possible that, had their been less withdrawals of Gihren Faction Loyalists like Delaz, A Baoa Qu may have gone differently). The forces under his command is relatively small, to the point where he is forced to seek aid from both the Axis Advance Fleet (though this is largely in materials and recovery) and the Cima Fleet, which costs him dearly.

Delaz specifically embellishes the “cause” of Zeon, focusing less on the Principality’s totally necessary warcrimes and more on Zeon’s fight for Independence against the Earth Federation. This is relevant because Delaz reaches a wide audience, espousing his own Zeonic ideals, largely divorced from the original Contolism basis. He also blames the weakened political leadership of the time (read: that nasty Kycilia murdering his precious Gihren Zabi). Delaz is specifically the most successful of the Zeon remnants in his era, directly to the space colonies detriment, since his actions directly lead to the founding of the Titans, who brutally crack down on the Colonies.

Equipment-wise, Zeon remnant groups are a varied bunch, but typically fight using older or ad-hoc equipment - The Delaz Fleet primarily utilises upgraded machines from the One Year War - Zaku FII’s, Rick Dom’s and, most notably, Dra-C’s - mobile suits cobbled together from spare Zaku and Gattle fighter-bomber parts. Any other materials they use are either stolen from the Earth Federation or are acquired through other means.

Newtypes are kinda weird here, since there just aren’t any in 0083, and the general theme with Newtypes in other remnant groups around this time is typically that they’re either propaganda or just not very good. It’s possible that the Newtype philosophy was largely dormant for a while immediately following Zeon’s defeat - either viewed as propaganda or directly suppressed by the Earth Federation themselves (like Amuro). The Newtype philosophy likely experienced as resurgence with the emergence of the Titans, since it would have been a rallying cry for spacenoid independence once more. As such, Newtypes just aren’t a big thing in Zeon remnant groups around this era, at least as near as I can tell (Delaz is the only animated force we see, and I try not to rely too much on manga, at least for Universal Century).

So, Delaz Fleet (and immediate postwar Zeon remnants) in a nutshell; Varied Motivations (though typically vengeance or survival), Small Guerilla Force, Newtypes near non-existent, mobile suits either OYW cast-offs or stolen.

Axis Zeon

Which I admit I’m using because it’s more easily distinguished than Neo Zeon, Neo Zeon and Neo Zeon. Anyway, Axis Zeon is made up of the various Zeon remnants that fled to the Asteroid Axis after the One Year War, this includes several pilots, scientists and engineers, which ensures that Axis enjoys a massive technological edge for most of its existence. Axis, in contrast to Zeons prior, is primarily concerned with “The Restoration of the Zabi Family” since one of the people that ended up there is Mineva Zabi, daughter of Dozle and the Zabi family’s only living heir. Except Glemy maybe.

Since Mineva was of the Zabi family lineage, of course she’d want to resume their conquest of the Earth Sphere, and so Axis was reconstructed into a fortress for her to rule when she came of age, with a regent being appointed to rule in her stead, which eventually fell to Haman Karn. Haman was essentially able to use Mineva as a figurehead in order to mount an invasion of Earth, and struck at the end of the Gryps War, when both the Titans and AEUG were reeling from that conflict. It’s also notable that a lot of the Axis members we see are very young, so were raised on “The Glories of Zeon” without actually seeing the realities of the One Year War with their own eyes.

Neo Zeon also was able to develop and field newtype weaponry, with newtypes being a potent threat against the AEUG. However, they still weren’t common, and so Cyber Newtypes were fielded. In contrast to “true newtypes” who have naturally awakened to their powers, cyber-newtypes are those with Newtype potential who have been forcibly conditioned with drugs and implants in order to function for combat. Though deadly threats, they are very unstable. You may notice that this seems anathema to the Contolism Philosophy espoused by Zeon Zum Deikun, and is incredibly dehumanising to boot, signifying that Axis is barely even paying lip service to its ideals of spacenoid independence. Axis Zeon is also notable for utilising clones to supplement its Newtype forces, which…. I don’t think is strictly counter to Contolism? But it feels like it’s against it in spirit, if not in letter.

It’s especially notable that a great many members of Axis Zeon espouse things like “For the Glory of Neo Zeon” and “For the Restoration of the Zabi Family” without really understanding what they mean. It’s also notable that, barring links with surviving Zeon Remnant groups, Axis isn’t noted as being very popular with the colonial population, likely because they don’t really understand what the “Ideals of Zeon” mean, and the civilians recognise them as merely parroting Zabi rhetoric.

Axis Zeon would eventually be undone by a Civil War within the organisation led by Glemy Toto, coupled with the AEUG’s offensives. Unlike the political manoeuvring of the One Year War, the Glemy Faction coup occurs very suddenly and results in massive casualties in the organisation due to his command of the Newtype corps.

Technologically, Axis is absolutely cutting-edge. They really don’t cheap out on mobile suit development and are able to design and field a variety of units comparable to the Principality in its heyday. Axis forces are essentially the best-armed Zeon will ever be, helped massively by the sheer amount of Newtype weaponry they can deploy (they have three mainline mobile suits in the Neo Zeon War, all three seeing good amounts of production at various stages and they’re typically first pick for Zeon Remnant Groups in the U.C. 0090’s). They also have the facilities for Newtype cloning, as mentioned above.

Axis Zeon in a nutshell; Hollow Motivations (Restoration of the Zabi Family and Conquest of the Earth Sphere), large force, newtypes and cyber-newtypes prevalent, mobile suits many, varied and cutting-edge.

(I haven’t quite finished all of ZZ, so forgive me if this one’s a bit rough)

Char’s Neo Zeon/Newborn Neo Zeon

Sometimes also known as Char’s Rebellion. It was basically founded in order to accelerate space migration….. by plunging the Earth into nuclear winter and making it near-uninhabitable. Founded by our good buddy Char Aznable in U.C. 0093, there’s less to go on for this particular iteration of Zeon, basically just a movie and supplemental information. It is composed of various Zeon remnants and political factions under Char Aznable with the express purpose of instigating the Axis Drop in order to make the earth uninhabitable and stop humanity from damaging it. Which is a terrible plan, barely paying lip service to the Contolist ideals Zeon was founded upon.

That’s because it’s a lie.

Char is in fact mounting a suicide run on the entire Earth. Creating a threat so massive that Amuro will be forced to kill him to stop it. Which is rather informative. Char is essentially using his influence to hold the entire operation together, and it’s notable that a good chunk of his own forces actively move to counter his goal when the option presents itself. Consequently, there isn’t much in the way of ideals on display here - Char is famous both for being the son of Zeon Zum Deikun and for his Dakar Address when he was a member of the AEUG. It kinda seems like a lot of his support is coming from people who know him from that, as opposed to what he’s actually doing. Newborn Neo Zeon is basically headlined and held together by Char, and has the vibe of a desperate last gasp for Zeon. It’s also notable that the only time we see Char actually lead Zeon is when he’s using its name for his own ends.

Newborn Neo Zeon also has a great more political pull than many of the other groups - Char Succeeds in a lot of his goals because he’s essentially able to play the Earth Federation like a fiddle, while remnant groups happily provide him aid. Technologically he has the backing of both Anaheim and Newtype Labs. Char’s mobile suits are, while not cutting-edge as such, very well rounded. The Geara Doga and Jagd Doga both share components and a general body structure, and the only reason the Sazabi is unique is because they couldn’t make the frame suit Char’s abilities (there’s a bunch of prototype units that pave the way to the Sazabi). Newborn Neo Zeon also retains a number of Axis Zeon Remnants, which bring their mobile suits and technical skill as well. Newtypes, while not exactly common, are considerably more stable than their Axis predecessors, and are given Jagd Doga’s, which are probably the closest a Newtype machine has ever come to reliability and ease of use. There’s also the Alpha Azieru…. which is also there (I don’t really have a lot to say on it honestly, it’s just kind of another “big newtype weapon”). Unfortunately, I really don’t have much to go on here regarding how the force views its newtypes - they’re essentially just treated as a special branch of the forces, no contolist ethics here, which is genuinely pretty sad. Because it illustrates just how far Char’s fallen from the ideals he espoused at the end of Zeta, especially considering he’s the son of Zeon Zum Deikun.

Char’s Neo Zeon in a nutshell: Motivations lean Char-centric, middling force with a lot of soft power, Newtypes present and mostly stable, small mobile suit variety but what’s there is very good.

(The Geara Doga’s one of my favourite grunt suits, so I’m probably quite biased here)

The Sleeves

Last of the “main” Neo Zeon Organisations. The Sleeves is a melting pot of every Zeon remnant group going. Founded around U.C. 0096, they were led by the man called Full Frontal, known as the “ghost of char”. Due to their disparate status, they aren’t recognised as a legitimate organisation by the Federstion, instead being branded a terrorist group - which they essentially are, being an aggregation of a bunch of other informal Zeon remnant groups. This mixed nature leads to a similar diversity in views and equipment - you have die-hard contolists, Glemy faction remnants, newborn Neo Zeon cast-offs and everything in-between.

They are essentially a return to form for Zeon Remnant groups, but are able effectively leverage their limited assets to fight quite effectively, though again, they’re heavily reliant on soft power, such as their relationship with Anaheim and political connections. They don’t have the forces to steamroll through the Earth Federation, so they’re forced to adopt an almost cell-based approach (at least that’s my read on Full Frontal and Suberoa Zinnerman’s relationship). It’s an odd mix of the realities of a Guerilla war against the federation and hearkening back to Neo-Zeon groups past (who were themselves hearkening back to the days of the old Principality). I should also note that The Sleeves maintain links with several other Zeon Remnant groups, such as some of the forces that attack Torrington in Unicorn. This is interesting not just because it shows a greater deal of collaboration between these groups than seen prior (Delaz and Cima were not exactly trusting of each other), it also shows a different mechanical composition to pre-U.C. 0090 remnant groups.

They’re kind of all over the place. Which I love because it’s 1:1 with their philosophical composition - they’re remnants from a bunch of different forces and groups, so of course it makes sense that their mobile suits would reflect that. The Sleeves do possess the…. Not-quite-cutting-edge-but-at-least-new Geara Zulus and the absolutely fabulous Sinanju (s), Kyshatriya and Rebawoo, but that’s kind of all they’re at. Everything else is from at least Char’s Rebellion or earlier - there’s one-of-a-kind custom units, old axis castoffs, even some stuff from the One Year War and immediate postwar period (like that poor regelgu). A varied armament for a varied force.

However, it is notable that The Sleeves don’t really have much of an identity of their own, largely due to their patchwork composition. They’re the scattered remnants of previous causes, and this is both called out and used against them in-universe. It feels like an examination of Char’s actions during CCA - Full Frontal certainly has Char’s charisma, but he doesn’t have his drive as evidenced by his eventual goal, which isn’t necessarily a *bad* aim, it’s just not Char.

Following on from this they share Newborn Neo Zeon’s just general…. disinterest in newtypes. They’re like any other pilot, they can just use different equipment. All the Sleeves Newtypes we see are very well-equipped though, so how they precisely look at them is unclear. This could be viewed as another extension of Char’s attitudes in CCA.

The Sleeves in a nutshell: Motivations are kind of all over the place, middling-to-low-sized force, newtypes uncommon but mostly-stable (one exception) and very effective, massive mobile suit variety but quality’s also all over the place.

Conclusion

So yeah, I find each revival of Zeon different enough that I can consider them separately to each other - yeah, there’s crossover, but their attitudes change each time - the only thing that stays the same is the aesthetic and who they’re fighting against.

But why are Zeon so often the antagonist?

Out-of-universe, because they sell. But you already knew that so let’s talk about possible In-universe reasons:

Old Equipment - The Principality was *huge*. Masses of equipment, enlisted men and yes, mobile suits. We see several individuals that are able to survive on the Scrap alone - Kelly Layzner, Judau Ashta, even the AEUG utilize a Gelgoog at one point. There’s a lot of material out there, and its a hot commodity post war and the Earth Federation will be in a hurry to rebuild - they don’t have the resources to track down every case of assault rifles or damaged-but-not-irreparable mobile suit. The South Seas alliance in Gundam Thunderbolt is one such organisation, but there will be a lot of Zeon Remnants who are still functional.

Loss of Leadership, not force - Aguille Delaz personally blames the “weak political leadership” (IE Kycillia) for the loss in the One Year War, but we can extrapolate that further. The Battle for A Baoa Qu saw pretty much all the remaining Zabi High Command due within hours of each other - Gihren kills Degwin, Kycillia kills Gihren, Char kills Kycillia. These are three massive losses to the war effort in very short spaces of time. Gihren’s betrayal of Degwin would’ve been very costly for him even if Kycillia hadn’t taken revenge there and then. He deprived himself of both the Solar Ray and the Fleet that Degwin was part of. The fact he took out Revil as well merely would’ve made it an even loss - if it wasn’t for the Solar Ray being rendered unusable into the bargain. Kycilia’s revenge killing of Gihren deprives A Baoa Qu of forces as the commanders loyal to Gihren flee the scene - Delaz among them - weakening the defence overall. Finally, Kycilia is killed as she is attempting to flee to Granada, where she planned to continue the war. This leaves a great many well-armed forces at large, since their strength wasn’t spent at A Baoa Qu - forces that Axis Zeon will draw on. All it really takes to galvanise these remnants is a charismatic individual, something which isn’t exactly in sort supply in the Universal Century.

Corollary to the above - Unclear loss - A Baoa Qu was absolute chaos, so the precise mechanics of “why Zeon lost” might be difficult for the average soldier to grasp - particularly one lacking in reliable non-federation communication sources. It would be easy to look at the mess of A Baoa Qu, then look at the equipment beside you and think “Yeah, we could’ve won. Yeah, we might still win”.

Unchanged Status Quo - Zeon launched the One Year War, at least officially, in the name of Independence. The Earth Federation was governing the colonies poorly, and class inequality was high. This does not change, if anything, it gets worse, as groups like the Titans see the OYW and Operation Stardust as Carte Blanche to utterly suppress the space colonies, and carry out War Crimes at least equal to Zeon’s. A failed war might at least spark some change to prevent another one, but if anything conditions for spacenoids only get worse, so resistance groups would see an upturn in numbers.

Corollary to the Above - Spacenoid Independence doesn’t stop with the war - The Independence of the Space Colonies is still a hot-button issue which the Federation has reason to suppress. So any ex-Zeon soldiers that folded back into civilian life may get involved with Colonial Independence movements. Or, any colonial independence movement that finds the Federation isn’t listening to them might seek a way to *make* them listen - and might find Zeon Remnant Groups sympathetic to their cause.

Little oversight - Before the formation of the Titans, the Earth Federation government believed Zeon to be removed as a threat - small pirate groups, but nothing major. Operation Stardust changed all this, yes, but before that Zeon remnant groups could operate largely unopposed, especially in areas with lower federation presence.

Total Societal Upheavel - Half of the population of the Universal Century died in the One Week Battle. Side 4 Moore was completely destroyed. There’s going to be some serious societal reconstruction after that no matter how you look at it. (Sidebar - Polygamy is mentioned as being a lot more common in Gundam Thunderbolt after the OYW, due to the massive gender disparity - you could also read this as Universal Century also being supportive of Lesbians). It’s not necessarily a driving force behind Zeon Remnant groups, but it’s worth remembering.

Military Experience - The big one, in my opinion. You have a lot of individuals with military experience after the war, including Guerilla warfare. This includes all the forces that had to adapt to new environments, like fighting in space, in colonies or on earth. There’s also a massive postwar economic depression. That’s not going to breed contentment towards a weak government, especially one that wasn’t doing a good job before the war.

In a nutshell, Zeon has the experience, materials and drive necessary to continue being a problem after the One Year War, and the Earth Federation Government doesn’t have the institutional will to stop them until Operation Stardust, which leads to the creation of the Titans, which really don’t help the situation.

Feel free to mention anything I’ve missed!

[cozymochi]

Can you tell us more about Cecil and his familiar? 🥺

I kinda did once here, tho to be fair it’s more so about Silver, but some there are some Cecil tidbits are in there.

Actual answer under cut.

Oleander is Cecil’s authorized familiar. Night Raven College does allow familiars, so long as they’re authorized beforehand. Under what circumstance I can’t say since that information isn’t entirely clarified in twst itself as of writing this. It’s mentioned by Crowley in the prologue that having an unauthorized familiar was considered a violation (under the context of thinking Grim was MCs familiar at first).

Though until further confirmed info is granted about this I can’t really say much with total certainty. Since none of the main cast has any (and therefore not relevant), it’s hard for me to really truly go ham on what functions familiars at NRC even have. Professor Treins cat Lucius is his familiar (but I also can’t be sure if as a staff member he’s allowed to do more than students can, i.e being allowed to just hang in classrooms). I will always modify info as more real info is unveiled and explicitly clarified.

^The above is just there to show the context I’m working under. Anyway, preamble over. Will yap now.

🌿 Oleanader (or just “Ollie” exclusively by Cecil affectionately) mostly stays within Diasomnia. He hates the small cute animals that break into their room thanks to Silver’s presence and will actively scare them away. He’s a very proud yet semi-reclusive bird.

🌿 Cecil got Oleander shortly after his magic manifested as a child. They’ve been inseparable since.

🌿 Between classes, during club activities, and within Diasomnia, Oleander is always near Cecil or perched on his shoulder. They clearly “communicate”, but Cecil’s animal linguistics is very poor so Cecil doesn’t actually know what Ollie is saying at all. Despite that, however, they’re still clearly very close and it doesn’t seem to affect their ability to communicate all that much in the grand scheme.

🌿 When Cecil is in class, Oleander will usually fly around campus and hang out within the trees. He’s usually out of sight, but never too far away to the point that he can’t come if Cecil calls for him.

🌿 Oleander is really good at finding things for potions. That’s kind of his thing.

🌿 Oleander becomes really protective and territorial if somebody else challenges Cecil or pushes him around, but will also visibly “laugh” at Cecil’s own self-afflicted mistakes and misfortune. It’s okay though, payback comes in dressing Ollie up in little bows.

🌿 Lucious and Oleander hate each other in equal measure.

🌿 During some of Crowley’s breaks, he and Oleander are sometimes seen chatting. It’s not known what they’re talking about, but Crowley is usually in tears from laughing so hard.

🌿 Oleander is just the Wormwood to Cecil’s Cedric.

(Random factoid I suppose: “Mugwort” was inspired from Wormwoods name since the plants names are sometimes used interchangeably. Wormy rep always has been here.)

Shoutout to all one maybe two people who read this stuff.

[haleigh-sloth]

I keep thinking about how much I want to see Tomura cry. I say this a lot, and I mean it.

Because one thing I love about BNHA is how much is emphasizes that it's okay to feel your feelings.

The main character cries...a lot. Readers hate him for it, I love him for it. Izuku cries a lot, but everybody outside of him tries to avoid it at all costs. But they let it slip sometimes:

And it's funny (probably intentionally done this way) that the first two people to be brought to tears after Izuku's intervening, they're the two to remind Izuku that crying is okay:

We had a whole arc where Izuku refused be himself and let his tears flow, and the same two people, once again, remind him it's okay to cry it out:

Now, those are people meeting Izuku eye to eye, being there for him.

Let's look at someone who has a different dynamic with him, someone who won't let it out and cry no matter what, or really until they can't hold it back anymore:

I've already said a few times that I think Dk vs Kc 2 is a very clear preamble for Izuku vs Tomura, and I think that so much because of how important it is in BNHA to cry.

Bakugo and Tomura have similarly constructed relationships to Izuku in regards to how they feel about him (disliking him because of how they feel about themselves).

Now lets look at our three villains:

Toga, who can and does cry:

Touya, who tries to cry because he feels those feelings that bring on his tears, but it's obscured with blood:

And then Tomura...who we haven't seen shed a single tear within the time frame of the manga:

Toga and Touya....more or less really know what they want. There are deep rooted feelings of self-hatred in both of them that they can't quite escape without help, but they know those feelings are there. Tomura on the other hand, has all of those same feelings, and isn't even really aware that those feelings are there. He's only good for destruction because that's what he was born to do, so why feel guilty or hate himself?

He's really far removed from his own truth, so he isn't letting himself feel what he really wants to be and should be feeling.

And we know what that is:

Bringing it back to Bakugo having a break down in front of Izuku. All I'm saying is that...if Bakugo was able to achieve some sort of relief, some sort of cathartic release by spilling his guts and letting the tears flow, and if Bakugo and Tomura are similar in this aspect in that they needed/currently need a person to spill it all out to, and if Tomura has yet to let the tears flow because he hasn't faced his own reality yet, then I think that's going to be a key part in Tomura really finally waking up.

We'll know when Tomura finally sees his reality for what it is when we see those tears flowing, because up until now the manga puts emphasis people crying to express their feelings. We'll know Tomura is really aware and making progress when the vision Izuku saw in the vestige finally shows itself out in the real world. Tomura is crying inside, and the reason he can't express that he wants to be saved yet is because he isn't crying on the outside yet.

Don't mind me, I'm just praying for my favorite character to have the break down of a life time.

[mandatory-blog-stop-asking]

my favorite stand-alone star trek episodes

someone in bluesky asked around my sphere what are the best Star Trek stand alone episodes for each show and I thought it was a cool exercise. My list and specifications are below. Long post so click the button to check it out.

Rules: Can't be super dependent on other episodes of the show, can't be a two or multiple-parter, can't just be every season finale just because it made me cry or anything; it has to be something that showcases how the show works its own individual aspects in a relatively ideal stage. Think of it like the episode you could show someone to prime them to like any of these shows if they don't even know the show exists.

The Original Series - The Corbomite Manuever

It's one of the first times Star Trek talks about peacemaking and looking before shooting as something you're supposed to do even in a situation where an overwhelming power is bullying you. Kirk comes out of this as a genius who knew better than to take a situation at face value, and has one of my favorite lines in the show:

What's the mission of this vessel, Doctor? To seek out and contact alien life, and an opportunity to demonstrate what our high-sounding words mean.

Banger idea, banger execution, iconic alien, cool shit all around, 10/10

Runner ups: Balance of Terror, Court Martial, The City at the Edge of Forever. Didn't make it because I like this one more.

The Animated Series - The Magicks of Megas-tu

I think it's probably the wildest episode in TAS? Kirk & Crew meet the devil and he's like, a swell guy you should be friends with. Spock learns magic. The devil tells the audience of mostly children to not have prejudices against those oppressors have deemed unworthy of attention. There's a magic duel at the center of the galaxy that is then tailored after the Salem Witch trials. If you haven't watched TAS, it goes fucking crazy.

Runner ups: Yesteryear, The Lorelei Signal, The Time Trap. Overall just think Megas-tu is more interesting and more incredibly fucking wild, how did that air in the 80s, oh my god.

The Next Generation - The Measure of a Man

While it is pretty early on, I think it's a very good example of what TNG does best: single-issue stories using its main cast as a vehicle for drama. This has a little bit of everything people love TNG for: Data's struggles as an android, Picard's struggles as a reinassance man occasionally having to face the dumbest motherfuckers in the entire Federation who would be burning witches at the stake if they could, a Badmiral, Riker vs Picard, Guinan taking Picard by the hand and gently reminding him the human condition includes some unpleasant elements, a farcical trial...

it's not perfect but I do think it holds up, and whenever I recommend Star Trek to people, this is always an easy case study to check if they're interested in the project.

Runner ups: Elementary Dear Data, Yesterday's Enterprise, Sarek, and honestly a lot of other episodes that just don't quite work if you don't have all the context of watching more of the show. Either that or they have weird characterizations that I don't think work super well for the episode.

Deep Space Nine - The Ship

I think Deep Space Nine has a ton of great episodes, but I do believe that show shines brightest when everyone involved is stuck in a bottle episode having to fight their way out of it. In TNG they would talk, in VOY they would trick people, in DS9 they use violence!

I think The Ship is the best version of a good DS9 episode that doesn't need so much preamble to understand. You have a tight cast, a very clear drama point, and the slow build up into a horrific ending where nobody is happy and everyone wishes war wasn't such bullshit.

While there's literally better episodes, I think this works really well for this "challenge."

Runner ups: This list literally had Homefront/Paradise Lost as my pick, but I ended up deciding two-parters don't count. Other than that, The Wire, The House of Quark, Badda-Bing Badda-Bang and my favorite episode of Star Trek of all time, It's Only a Paper Moon, that unfortunately only works if you've spent 7 seasons watching Nog go from the worst character in Star Trek to the best character in Star Trek.

Voyager - One Small Step

I think Voyager is very flawed and that season 4 is the highest peak the show comes to, but even then, I think One Small Step is my favorite episode. It has the BIG VOYAGER THINGS: Seven of Nine trying to wrap her head around human emotions, an old-timey feel (literally, it's about an old Mars mission), it has the Delta Flyer, and it ends with an absolute emotional gut punch that I haven't really recovered from to this day. It's a love letter to space exploration that really fits a show named god damn Voyager a lot more than it would any of the others. I really love this episode.

Runner ups: The 37s, Living Witness, Death Wish, and DISTANT ORIGINS, OH MY GOD, THE LIZARD PEOPLE ARE REAL; all episodes i like but that either don't quite get me where I want to go, or I just personally feel aren't as strong.

Enterprise - Dead Stop

So like, this list is awful for Enterprise, because every single episode of that series builds on the previous ones somehow. Season 3 is impossible to watch out of context so I can't use any of it, and my no-multiple-parters rule means Season 4 (which I don't even like anyway so I guess it doesn't matter ) is mostly out. But I really do think Dead Stop excels at what Enterprise is good at: making the galaxy look fucking weird again.

Dead Stop feels like a really good sidemission from a game you've played a lot but never did 100%. It proposes some things about the state of the galaxy that you never really consider and never comes back, and it acts like this really interesting bottle episode that, while relatively predictable (this is Enterprise), is also effective. I think everyone shines in this and I think the situation is very unique. Worth a shot if you've never seen Enterprise.

Runner ups: E², The Catwalk (lol), it... look, I'll be real, Enterprise is not made for this.

Discovery - Unification III

Speaking of shows that aren't made for this, Discovery wouldn't have made it if it didn't get a soft-reboot halfway through. I'm one of the people who likes the second half of Discovery, sometimes a lot even. And while I think it should have gone way crazier with its own stuff instead of wasting its time with references (season 4 is probably the moment I was happy saying I like Discovery), I think Unification III is the first time I actually liked Michael's character.

It still has Discovery's major problems of being overly melodramatic in the wrong places, wasting a little too much time with dramatic camera shots and monologues that don't always hit, but I think Unification III is Discovery deciding it can stand side by side with other shows: it fundamentally changes the Romulan/Vulcan dichotomy, it takes something old and makes it new again, and it for the first time in years doesn't feel embarrassed of itself.

I don't know if it would make a Disco hater become a Disco enjoyer, but hey, I enjoy the episode, and it's my list.

Runner ups: Forget Me Not, and.... that's it actually. Don't watch Discovery on random, it doesn't work. Picard isn't in this list.

Lower Decks - wej Duj

Lower Decks rules and wej Duj is the best episode of Star Trek released in the year it came out. It takes its premise and allows it to breathe, shows you parts of the universe you'd never see, introduces great characters you could make a mini series about if you were crazy, and it looks and sounds great. Lower Decks was too good for this world and cancelling it characterizes cruel and unusual mistreatment of an audience.

Runner-ups: First First Contact, Empathological Fallacies, a couple more but Lower Decks is so referential in nature that it also makes it hard. But this wasn't really a contest. I wrote wej Duj without looking up other episodes.

Prodigy - Time Amok

Prodigy is a weird one because it's less "Star Trek" and more "Voyager 2". It has a different idea and execution for what it wants to do, so it doesn't really adhere to structures other shows have. That being said, I think Time Amok is the first time the crew really comes together and shows why they're a good cast, what their specialties are and why you should like them. I would probably not have continued the show without an episode like Time Amok, and genuinely, it goes great places. Season 2 is one of my favorite seasons of current Star Trek. It just, you know, isn't the same.

Runner-ups: Honestly for my specific rules, this is it. But I want you to know Prodigy fucking rules and you should watch it. "Now... go boldly" still gets to me every time I think about it.

Strange New Worlds - Ad Astra per Aspera

I like Season 1 of SNW a lot more than Season 2, but the S2 opener really is the show at its best. It doesn't pull any punches when exploring the subject of what's essentially Federation-approved apartheid, and it might have the best performances in the show so far. It would have probably interested me more if this wasn't another prequel that can't change things too much, but, still. If you've never seen SNW and don't want to just watch it from episode 1, give this one a try.

Runner-ups: Strange New Worlds the pilot! It's a very good pilot! Also "Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow" and "Those Old Scientists", but like, a crossover wouldn't really fit here very well.

And there you go, that was a fun little exercise. How about you make your own? Add any of the shows you want, I just happen to be a freak who wanted to do it with all of them.

[writeforfandoms]

Waking Lions 16

Find the series masterlist

You attempt to gather more intel, with limited success. Fortunately (or unfortunately), Price isn't going anywhere.

Warnings: Price needs a whole warning label by now, flirting, swearing, Valeria also needs a warning label, more backstory for Ace, Flirting.

Word count: 1.9k

John Price x f!reader

You took over an empty office to make your call, shutting the door on Captain’s (admittedly mild) objection. You needed privacy to make this call, and Kate, at least, was used to your ways. 

You just hoped that Valeria would answer still. 

“Marigold.” She sounded faintly surprised. 

“You did me a big favor,” you told her without preamble. “I’d like to return the favor.”

“I’m listening.” She spoke carefully but didn’t sound suspicious, thank goodness. 

“There are… people who know about AQ and are working against them,” you said, hesitating briefly. There was only so much you could tell her without breaking your own rules. “If you’re still involved, I’d recommend you back out. Immediately.”

Valeria hummed softly to show she’d heard, undoubtedly weighing her options. “You’re certain?”

“Saw the plans myself,” you confirmed. “I’d rather not see you face this.” 

She was quiet for a few moments, and you remained patient. “Is this to do with the name that sent you running?”

For a moment, you debated asking how she knew. But you tabled that for a later discussion. “Yes.”

She huffed softly. “I wondered. He is a little too cozy with Al-Qatala.”

“Don’t suppose you know more about that?” It couldn’t hurt to ask.

She laughed softly. “Nothing that will benefit you, Marigold. You find somewhere to hole up until this blows over, then come visit me. We can build in the ashes.” She hung up without giving you a chance to respond.

Well. Good to know that you had a place with her if things didn’t work out. 

Now you just had to survive this whole mess. No problem. 

You opened the office door and found Garrick sitting in the hallway, typing on his phone. He didn’t seem like he’d been paying attention, and unfortunately you didn’t know if he spoke Spanish or not. 

“Kate ordered coffee and pastries,” he said, glancing up at you from his phone. 

“Thanks.” You stepped past him to the conference room again. Captain was gone, nowhere to be seen, leaving you and Kate alone. 

“That was fast.” She didn’t look at you, one hand waving to the pastries in a clear invitation. 

“I got lucky, caught my contact at a good time.” You picked out something that looked good, taking a careful bite. Mm. Yeah, you were definitely hungry now. 

“How are you?” She was fortunately still focused on her tablet as she asked. Well. Knowing her, she’d done it intentionally, giving you a little space. 

You puffed out a breath, taking a moment to decide how to answer. “Been better,” you managed lightly. 

“Understandable.” Kate breathed out slowly, glancing up at you. “We’re in a better position now than last time.”

“Yes,” you agreed mildly. But you didn’t voice the thought that so was he. 

So you decided to ignore the unease settling in your gut and just focus on helping Kate. 

The amount of information she had was a little surprising, and idly you wondered how hard she’d pushed to get it all. But that worked in your favor - the more information, the better. 

The main problem, as far as you were concerned, was that she had no information on Gray, and you didn’t have a way to get that kind of information. 

Captain and Garrick dipped in and out of the room, talking to Kate. You mostly ignored them, focused on your tasks and putting puzzle pieces together. But you did notice something… not odd, perhaps, but quite interesting.

Captain touched you every time he was near you. A hand to your shoulder, two fingers to the back of your hand, his knee pressing into yours under the table. Each touch warmed you, little sparks lingering on your skin long after he’d moved away again.

You knew what that meant. You’d felt something similar before. But you had no idea what to actually do with that information. 

So you didn’t. 

“The others will be here tomorrow,” Captain said, which finally made you tune back in. “Some of the Vaqueros volunteered to help, too.” 

“Of course they did.” Kate’s smile was small but pleased. “They’re good men.” 

“Sounds like a fun little war council,” you quipped, leaning back and squeezing the back of your neck. “Also sounds like not my area of expertise, so–”

“Not a chance,” Captain interrupted, smirking down at you. 

You shrugged, though you did eye him. “What if I promised to stay put?” 

“You’ll do more good here.” Captain returned his attention to the map. 

“You’re outmatched,” Kate told you, quietly smug. You flipped her off. 

“You should be on my side,” you grumbled at her. “I doubt I’ll be of any use to you lot.” 

“We’ll see.” Kate leaned away from the map finally, checking the time. Darkness had fallen outside the window, and you finally realized how late it must be. “I’m calling it a night.” 

“Good plan.” Captain helped roll up the map. “Meet bright and early, then?” 

“With coffee,” Kate promised. 

“Can I get you dinner?” Gaz asked, near-gluing himself to Kate’s side. “Mum has a recipe she wants me to pass on.” 

Those two left, their voices fading as they walked down the hallway. 

Leaving you with Captain. 

“Gaz’s got the right idea,” Captain murmured, stopping next to you. “Dinner?” 

You swallowed. Oh this was a bad idea. This was a terrible idea. But you tipped your head to look up at him, catching the flicker of a smile across his lips. Bad ideas hadn’t killed you yet. “Yeah. Sure. I know a place.” 

Captain motioned you out first, flipping lights off as you two left. “Why here?”

“Hmm?” You looked back at him, blinking. 

“Why have this be your bug out city?” He slowed his steps a little to match yours, hands brushing as you walked. 

You puffed out your cheeks, briefly debating how to answer. You could lie. Easily. But… You could also tell him the truth. What would he do, mock you? Somehow you doubted it. 

“I grew up here,” you admitted. “My father had a house in the suburbs.” 

“Seems a bit on the nose,” Captain murmured. “You’re certain Gray won’t think to look for you here?”

“Nah.” You grinned. “I’ve been back here several times over the years, you know. Even been here with Kate before. Gray abandoned this place long ago.” 

Captain hummed softly, stepping ahead only to hold the door for you to get outside. You hunched your shoulders a little, not expecting the chill. Captain stepped closer to you, lending you body heat in a way he probably thought was subtle. 

“I need to run in here,” you told him, nodding to the nearest store. “Got an order to pick up.”

He blinked at you. “An order?”

You shot him a wry smile. “Was in such a rush I didn’t grab clothes yesterday. It’s a bit out of the way to drive back there, so.” You motioned to the store. 

He snorted softly. “How long had you been awake?” 

“Not sure,” you answered honestly. “Way too long.” You were not in the least surprised when he followed you into the store. Picking up your order was quick, at least, and he took one of the bags for you. 

“You can give me directions,” he said, half an order, as he steered you back to the car. You just gave in. Honestly, it was easier. 

And, if you really wanted to be honest with yourself, you didn’t feel like arguing with him. 

You were surprised when he asked for a booth and sat next to you, though. He didn’t talk much until you’d both ordered and the waitress had left. 

“You make a habit of taking snarky information specialists out to dinner?” you joked, leaning back in the booth. 

“Nah.” He pressed his leg against yours, smirking at you. “Just you.” 

Your pulse fluttered in surprise, and your lips parted, just a little. His gaze dipped down, slowly, leisurely. 

He may as well have started a bonfire between the two of you for how quickly you warmed. 

“Well.” You licked your lips, watching him track the movement. “I’d ask if you know what you’re doing, but you seem to have things well in hand.” 

“Usually do.” His hand landed on your knee, a relatively safe location. And yet it sent your pulse thundering. 

“I can see that.” You let your gaze drop purposefully to his hand before meeting his gaze again. But you didn’t complain. Far from it. “What are you hoping for here, Captain?” 

“Getting you to use my name is a good start.” His fingers inched up to your thigh. 

“I’ll think about it.” You smirked, amused. 

“What’s it going to take to get you to use it, hm?” He leaned closer to you, voice dipping lower. 

You smiled slowly, tongue darting out to wet your lips and tempt him into looking. He didn’t quite give in, holding your gaze instead. “You’re a smart man,” you murmured. “I’m sure you’ll figure something out.” 

He hummed soft acknowledgement, fingers gripping your thigh gently. But he didn’t do more than that, gaze lifting to the waitress who brought your drinks and food.

Quiet fell between the two of you again, charged but also oddly… peaceful. Easy. 

You really needed to stop being surprised at how much sway this man had over you. You also had to decide what you wanted to do about it. 

Captain paid, waving off your offer. He even opened your door for you when the two of you got back to the car. 

The trip back to the hotel was silent. Charged but peaceful enough. And it gave you time enough to decide what you wanted.

You knew that if you said the word, he’d back off. Let you shower in peace and give you the bed again. Because that was the kind of man he was. 

And if you didn’t tell him to back off, if you gave him permission to continue… Well. You would be in for a hell of a night. 

You just had to decide what you wanted. He was already close, closer than most people ever got. He knew you better than most. And he already had a place in your heart. Which was the most dangerous part for you. 

He could so easily hurt you. 

But a part of you, a small part, wanted to trust him. To see if this would work. 

He parked the car but didn’t get out yet, simply sitting. You blinked and looked at him, shadows from a light in the parking lot playing across his features. 

If there was anyone you would want to try this with, it was him. He had Kate’s trust. Surely you could piggyback off hers and extend your own? 

“Plannin’ on looking all night?” he asked, low and amused.

“Still deciding,” you quipped back. “It’s an awful nice view, after all.” 

He chuckled, low and quiet, and popped his door. “Might as well have better lighting then, hm?” 

“Suppose so.” You flashed him a grin before you got out. He took one of the bags for you and walked you inside, hand light on your back. 

By the time the elevator made it up to your floor, you’d decided. 

When the door closed behind the two of you, you dropped your bag, uncaring of the contents at the moment. You turned, hands lifting to his mutton chops (surprisingly soft), guiding him down into a kiss.

[scotts-takes]

"Black Out See Saw" is the Climax Alkaloid Deserved

Top Songs from Enstars 2023 Number 1

I was blown away when the album art for Alkaloid was released a few months ago...

This art is such a sharp contrast from their first album art, that shows how they have grown. The basic military style unit outfits have been replaced with regal commander-style ones. The basic emotions that are shown in the original are now much more refined- in particular, Aira has evolved from someone simply happy to be on a stage to someone who is confident in his place on it, Mayoi is putting himself more in center, and Hiiro's confident smirk has become more stoic, as he now has the experience to go with his skills.

All of this went away, however, when we actually got the Alkaloid Climax song...

Sigh...it was the seasonal Halloween event for the year. Yes, the idea of incorporating hospital/illness and Tatsumi's relationship with it is an interesting story to tell...but Alkaloid deserved so much more, especially as the "Protagonists" for the !! era of Enstars. I was frustrated that the end of this era of Enstars for Alkaloid was wasted on a seasonal event, but was at least able to take solice in that Alkaloid gets 200 chapters of the main story dedicated to them, and we still had solo songs for each character to come from the album. December rolls around, and the album releases. After jumping through hoops to buy it, I throw my headphones on to give the album a listen. The first track, "DiZZineSS" is a weird 30 second preamble with no singing, not something I was expecting. However, it rolls directly into the first new song on the album

Bam

Black Out Sea Saw is a violent wall of sound, unlike anything else that has been done for Enstars before, and I can understand fans not liking it. The reason it sounds so different is because it was produced by TK of Ling Tosite Sigure, a 20+ year going Prog Rock group. I listened to the song 3 times before moving on, and waited for the MV release to come, as is usual with the "B" side track from Albums. And what we got was one of the most well constructed videos for Alkaloid fans, and the climax that I was looking for that wasn't provided by the Halloween song.

The video opens...strangly, especially if you haven't heard the song before. The opening is intentionally choppy and rough, almost like it was an unfinished song that still needed production. There is a weird reverb effect happening- which you can especially hear when Mayoi hits the high note, that led to a friend saying "it sounds like they recorded this in a bathroom or something". The other thing that really jumps out is how robotic and synchronized the movements of all 4 members are. This is a BIG deal. In just about every Alkaloid video, you can find little inconsistencies at various points- Aira is sometimes a bit slow to do something, Hiiro is sometimes a bit too fast, Tatsumi's movements are less athletic, etc. The robotic movements are all in perfect unison, especially at points where characters do things together, like make hand bridges. It's a sign of Alkaloid's growth as a unit- they started as a collection of rejects, and now they haver come together and become a great unit together.

As we go to the first chorus, the intensity of the song ramps up- it becomes FAST, yet every member is in perfect harmony. The dancing becomes more intense- and everyone stays perfect. And then we get to the final line "It's Error-Error", and things start to change- we start to see more finger movement, the motions become more flowing and less robotic (the robots are malfunctioning! error! error!), and more personality is shown by each member.

We then get a wonderful effect of feathers raining from the sky, before, and then we get to see everyone smile, including Hiiro with this soft and expressive look. (that I wish I was able to time slightly better when I took my screenshot!)

Why is this important? Lets take a look at the first Introduction of Hiiro, in his first close-up in Kiss of Life

It's a look of focus, of determination, and NOT one of joy. Hiiro NEVER smiles at any point in Kiss of Life except during the SPP- he maintains a focused look the entire time. Additionally, you can look at just about any Alkaloid video, and Hiiro rarely smiles- if anything, he just physically assaults the camera in every one of them! The final chapter of the main story is titled "Smile", which is a discussion between Hiiro and Rinne on what it means to be an idol, and Rinne telling Hiiro "Whenever I see you smile, it makes me smile too", with Hiiro responding that he will do whatever it takes to make people smile

Hiiro wasn't able to smile in Kiss of Life, as his focus was on putting smiles on the faces of others. It's weird, because when he isn't preforming, a smile is basically plastered on his face permanently. He has a very loud and infectious laugh, and he's just happy to be doing anything at any time. On stage, for him, its different. And Black Out Sea Saw is the first time that Hiiro is able to not just smile, but show kindness in it, as opposed to simple joy or excitement. It's a MASSIVE step forward for him- the kind of thing that, you know, you might build a Climax story around?

And then, we come to the end, where the intensity of the song does not let up, before it all crashes to an end as the lights go dark and Alkaloid go still

To me, this is the Alkaloid Climax, the song that I will remember. They have gone from a group thrown together to a cohesive unit with a sound unlike anyone else in the franchise, and all of whom have had character growth. It's the one that they deserve going into the new era that is upcoming, and even has a level of finality to it, seeing as how it was released right at the end of the year.

Alkaloid deserved better than Undying Holy Love, and boy, did they get it...

[eryiss]

Fraxus Week 2024 - Day 1: Transformation

Description: The hard part was meant to be asking Freed out on the date, but in the week between asking and the actual date, Laxus gets in his own head. Following the advice of his guildmates, he transforms himself into the man he thinks Freed deserves. Freed has other ideas, and utilises thievery, embarrassment, and an apple pie to show it.

Note: Fraxus Week 2024, as always hosted by @fuckyeahfraxus. Hopefully I’ll have something for the main seven days. I’m sure there'll be lots of good stuff made. Have fun, hope you enjoy reading it.

Link: Ao3

In Defence Of Apple Pie

Food

Laxus had been sitting in the corner of the guild for a little while, waiting for the bar to quieten down. He'd been playing with his beer tankard after downing it. Not nervous. Just… thinking.

He'd done the hard part, that was the main thing. He'd knocked on Freed's door, got over his stupid machismo and all the voices screaming not to put himself on the line like this, and asked Freed on a date. He'd said it plainly and clearly, leaving no room for doubt that he was interested in Freed, and had gotten the most beautiful smile and a quiet 'Yes, I think I'd quite enjoy that' in response.

So now he just had to plan a date. A date that would determine the future relationship he had with a man he'd been crushing on for over a year now. No pressure.

The second the bar looked empty, he pounced. He strode quickly, slid into the stool that was furthest from the throngs of the crowd, and beckoned Mirajane over with a jerk of his head. When she came, she gave him a questioning look.

"You know any good places to eat?" He demanded without preamble, voice low and quiet.

Mirajane, if she was affronted by his lack of a greeting, didn't show it. She hummed quietly to herself. "Of course. What type of place are you looking for? Fine dining? Quiet and undiscovered? Somewhere to show off about? Somewhere-"

"Need a place to take a date, that's all." He said it impassively, like it wasn't a big deal and didn't need commenting on. He had hoped that Mirajane would catch the energy he was giving and match it. Instead, her eyes shone, and she beamed an excited, gossip-starved grin at him. He was quick to cut it off. "Don't get weird about it."

"You're going on a date!" She exclaimed, though thankfully in a whisper. Laxus looked over his shoulder for listeners-in anyway. "Who with?"

"Doesn't matter."

"I'll find out if you don't tell me," She pushed on, leaning against the bar now. "Might as well get it over with."

Laxus managed to keep to his guns for about five seconds, before he huffed out a noise. "If you freak out on this, I'll kill ya," he grunted, and she nodded. "It's Freed."

She slapped the top of the bar, looked up to the roof with her neck straining, reached for a dishcloth and covered his mouth with it, then made a weird screeching noise. Once that was over, she looked back at Laxus, and in a whisper that might rival a teenage girl in irritation, said "It's finally happening!"

"Be quiet," Laxus demanded, once again looking for anyone who might have heard.

"No; I'm excited. Oh, this is so amazing. You're going to date and fall in love and get married-"

"Get ahold of yourself woman!" Laxus snapped. "It's a date. Just a date."

"Between you and Freed!"

"Not worth it," Laxus pushed himself back to leave the bar. "You tell anyone, the I'll-"

"Wait wait wait," Mirajane leant over and grabbed him by the arm, pulling him back to sitting. Laxus let it happen. "I'll stop. I promise. And I will help you out with finding the perfect place to go. It's got to be somewhere fancy, obviously. Freed's basically the idea of elegance come to life, so it'll have to be somewhere high class. Candles and table clothes are a minimum. Oh, there's this amazing little place tucked away in the corner of Harrow Street. It's called the Thin Sparrow, have you heard of it?"

She went on to give an in depth and detailed recounting of all the local, and sometimes non-local eateries that it would be respectable for Freed to date in. They were all pricey, fancy, snobby places that Laxus wouldn't ever think of going to normal. But Mira was right; Freed was a high class kinda guy, and Laxus wasn't going to risk their first date going to a place that was beneath him.

It raised an issue, though. Because Freed really was a classy guy. Laxus wasn't. Laxus was meat and potatoes when Freed was champagne and caviar. There was more to Freed than that, obviously, but his fancy tastes were a part of him too. He liked to eat well, dressed in fancy clothes, and talked smart because that was who he was.

Freed contained multitudes. Could Laxus appeal to all of them?

"Oh, I've got the perfect place. How did I not think of it before?" Mira grinned at him. "It's called The Mirror. Super exclusive and with a really long wait list, but I know the owner and I can get you in. They do the best food, and I'm sure Freed'll know about it, so he'll be really impressed. And I bet he'll have been desperate to try the food. You know what he's like in the kitchen. It's perfect!"

"You can sort that?"

"Of course," she beamed. "So long as you promise me you tell me all about it the next morning."

"Not a fuckin' chance," Laxus grunted. "He's private; I ain't gossiping about him." She beamed at him, which was frankly a bit disturbing, so he huffed again. "What?"

"You know him so well; you're going to make such a good couple."

Well, there was no real response to that that didn't involve him blushing, so he pushed away from the bar, and walked out of the guildhall, deciding that he'd done enough sharing for the day.

But Mirajane had been right; Freed needed, and deserved, to be wowed and treated like a goddamn Prince. Maybe Laxus wasn't princely to most, but he wanted this thing with Freed to work out, and if he had any hope of that, he needed to brush up and be the guy that Freed deserved. Unfortunately, he had a sinking, horrible feeling that achieving that meant calling for help.

———

Clothes

"Hideous. Awful. Revolting. Makes me judge you as a man."

This had been a mistake, but it was far too late to undo it now. All he could do was sit on the edge of his bed as Evergreen went through his closet, all the while Bickslow cracked stupid jokes and played the part of annoying fashion designer, the likes of which Laxus had only ever seen on TV.

"The fact that you still own this when I distinctly remember telling you to set it on fire," Evergreen huffed as she turned, holding out Laxus' leopard print shirt as if it were made of worms. "Is a travesty."

"It's one of my favourite shirts," Laxus defended himself. "I look good in it."

"I'm with the big guy here," Bickslow spoke up, and his agreement could only be a bad sign. "He should wear it on the date. It sends a message. It says, 'I'm a wild beast and I'm gonna pounce on you and get my teeth all up in your business.' I think Freed would go for that."

"I think you're both repressible men with no sense of style," Evergreen sniffed as she threw the shirt onto the ever-growing unacceptable pile. Laxus' irritation was also ever-growing. "You have a suit. I know you do. Where is it?"

"Under the bed," Laxus glanced down.

Ever gave him a look other people might have reserved for someone killing their firstborn, then got on her hands and knees and started to rummage under the bed. Laxus knew she'd found it when she made an aborted, angry squeak. Moments later, she was out from under his bed, holding his suit and looking furious, appalled and dusty all at once.

"A sleeping bag!" She exclaimed. "You keep your suit, the best piece of clothing you own, in a sleeping bag under your bed!"

"Barely ever wear it. Don't want it taking up space," he shrugged. "I take it to the dry cleaners if I need to use it."

"But it- You might- What if you-" She seemed genuinely lost for words. Then she found one. "Men!"

"Why're you bothering with any of that, we all know the real magic's in here," Bickslow taunted, tapping the set of drawers that housed all of Laxus' boxers. He reached for the handle. "Let's have a little-OW!"

Laxus, who had just shot off a bolt of lightning, glared at him. "You ain't rummaging through my underwear drawer."

"Why? You wear something weird? Thongs? Tighty whities?" He made a scandalised gasp. "Is it empty? Have you been going commando on us all this time? Because, if I were Freed and I found that out, I might just get on all fours and arch my back right there in the restaurant."

"Get out of my house," Laxus snapped, but Bickslow just laughed and collapsed onto the chair tucked in the corner of the room.

"Laxus, you can't go on a date with Freed wearing any of this," Evergreen sighed forlornly. "I expected it to be bad, of course, but not this bad. We'll have to go shopping. Right now. We'll have just enough time to find something perfect before dinner if we go now."

"I don't need new clothes."

"Laxus," She said it slowly, like she was talking to a child. "You're going on a date with Freed Justine. The same Freed Justine that only buys clothes with a designer label on them. You know he's going to show up looking like a million jewels. The first thing you do on a date is look at the other person. You check them out, you steal little glances, you drink them all in. Do you really want him doing that to you in something he's seen you wearing a hundred times before. In something that's been cut up and patched up after a mission. On something that, and let's be honest here Laxus, makes you look like you got lost in a charity bin."

That was quite hard not to take personally, but she was right about Freed's love of high fashion. Freed had once said he bought fancy clothes because they handled the wear and tear of a working wizards's lifestyle. But he was fashionable, too. His clothes worked with each other, matched colours and… well, Laxus didn't know enough about fashion to explain exactly why Freed's clothes looked good on him, but they did!

She was right about them looking at each other, too. Laxus was always looking at Freed. Couldn't help it. If Freed had agreed to date him, then maybe Freed did the same. On a date, the looking wouldn't have to be covert. It could be honest and brazen. If Freed were going to be doing that, then Laxus needed to look his best.

"Fine, we'll get something new," Laxus sniffed. "But nothing too weird. Something low key."

"Of course. Low key," Ever agreed.

"Low key fuckable," Bickslow grinned. "I say we get some jock straps in case it goes well. Frames that ass, hugs the crotch, and there's something about the snap of the elastic that just drives a guy wild. I know this place that does silk ones. It's mainly for porn, I think, but I'm sure they'll make an exception for you if we ask nice and you pop those pecs. Maybe do a body roll."

Laxus and Evergreen stared at him. Laxus spoke first. "He's not coming with us, right? Because if he does, I might kill him."

"Oh no, definitely not."

"You both suck," Bickslow pouted, then grinned. "Freed's a lucky guy."

He had a lightning bolt and a spray of fairy dust flying towards him before he could even think of defending himself.

———

Charm

Laxus was eating dinner in the guildhall when Loke took the seat opposite him, swivelled it around, and straddled it. He looked at Laxus. Laxus looked back at him. Neither spoke. Laxus wished that it was more socially acceptable to electrocute acquaintances to a point of unconsciousness.

"So this is how you act when you're eating, hm?" Loke tutted.

"The hell do you want?"

"You know, Freed and I have spent more time alone than you might think," Loke mused, leaning back from his straddled chair. "You're aware, I'm sure, that he and I have often been battling for dominance on the 'Wizards's I'd Like to Have Dirty Sex With' poll. We both make the top ten, of course, and those photoshoots are a long affair and it's inevitable that we'd get talking."

"That's not what the poll's called," Laxus grumbled.

"Might as well be," Loke waved off the argument. "I also got a little closer to him during your time with Blue Pegasus. He wanted advice on his flirting and, well, who better than me to test a man's charms."

"Good for you. Leave me alone."

"All of this is to say, I know what Freed is like when he's being charming and flirting," Loke leant forward again. "And I know that a man who's as silver tongued as him will want a bit of that flirty energy bouncing back at him. Rumour has it that you and he have a date, and I'd be simply remiss if I didn't give you a little advice on how to make the man squirm with just a few short words."

That rankled a little. "I think I know Freed better than you do."

"As a friend, and an ally, I've no doubt you know him better," Loke assured him. "But those photoshoots, we're expected to be as suave, debonair, and flirty as a man can be. And I'm sure you know what it's like to be in Blue Pegasus. You've seen him when he's trying to be platonic. I've seen him when he's romantic."

"You've seen him playing at being romantic," Laxus corrected. "He was pretending."

"Exactly," Loke sighed. "Laxus, when he's playing at being romantic, he's telling you what he wants in a partner. He thinks that his customers, or the photographers want him to be in a particular way. And he thinks that because that's what he wants when he's being charmed. He wants romance."

Laxus didn't say anything for a moment. "If he wanted that, why'd be say yes to dating me? Never gave him any reason to think I'm a romantic."

"Maybe he thinks it's just a part of you that isn't on the surface," Loke shrugged. "You don't need to worry. I'm sure he's not expecting you to be a totally different person. You might not even need to do any actual flirting at all, really. You've got this," he waved a hand in Laxus' direction, "awkward stud thing going on. A little flex, a stray wink, and maybe a little kiss to the knuckles will make all the difference."

Laxus couldn't do any of that! He couldn't wink without looking like he had something in his eye! He couldn't flex his arms for no reason without feeling like an idiot! Taking Freed's hand and kissing his knuckles would be humiliating! What would he do if Freed didn't want that, and took his hand away just as Laxus was lowering his head?

But, Laxus had spent months in Blue Pegasus, watching as Freed flirted with suave perfection. He could take anyone to his table and have them leave blushing and squirming. Surely Loke was right that Freed would want, and perhaps expect, a bit of flirting for himself.

"And you can teach me how to do that?" Laxus nearly whispered. "How to do it without making me feel like a jackass?"

"Oh Laxus, give me twenty minutes and I'll make a dandy out of you."

It felt like a mistake already, and the way Loke was looking at him had him more worried than a good deal of the monsters and dark mages who had actually tried to kill him. But Freed deserved a man who could make him blush, who could set his veins on fire with just a couple of words, and could make him feel flattered, charmed and adored all at once. If Loke could help him make Freed feel like that, then he'd deal with whatever awkwardness and embarrassment he needed to get over to do it.

———

Sex

"So," Cana said as she sidled herself next to him at the bar. "Little birdie told me you and Freed are going on a date, huh?"

"Your wife told you then," Laxus glared at Mirajane, who avoided his eye. "So?"

"Well, I know Freed gives off this whole stuffed shirt, reserved, prim and proper vibe, but something tells me that he's kinda freaky in bed and I thought I could give you some tips on how to handle a demon between the sheets. First hand experience of course. Now, what you wanna- where you going?"

Laxus stormed out of the guildhall, door slamming behind him as he went.

———

Truth

Laxus fiddled with the cuffs of his jacket, looking at his reflection with a small frown. He looked good. Really damn good, honestly.

Ever had eventually settled on him wearing a dark blue sweater, a darker blue jacket, and black jeans she said were slim fitting. The outfit was meant to show of his assets – Bix had cackled at that and made multiple jokes about what Freed would want to do with his assets – and it did that well. His thighs were hugged, pecs obvious, arms bulged, and waist emphasised. He looked sexy and knew it.

But he wasn't exactly comfortable. It was a summer's evening. It was hot. A sweater and a jacket were too warm, and kinda scratchy really. The jeans didn't leave much space for motion, which he was used to in his battle clothes.

Whatever. He looked good and would not look out of place on Freed's arm.

They were meeting at the restaurant, and Laxus had been sure to get there early. He wanted to get the lay of the land, scope out the other customers so he could see what they were like, and maybe get his heart to stop thumping quite so much. He quietly wished he could have taken Freed to one of the burger joints or ramen places he would get lunch from; maybe the home field advantage would calm him down.

"Laxus," Freed's voice had Laxus freezing, then slowly turning.

Freed had chosen to wear a simple black dress shirt, a jacket and black pants. The buttons on the shirt were open at the top, showing just a hint of his chest, in a way teasing and irresistible. He had his shirt tucked into his pants, and Laxus knew the second Freed turned away, his spectacular ass would be hugged perfectly. Did the guy really have to do so many squats in his workout routine? It was distracting!

Laxus started to sweat.

"Hey," he said awkwardly.

"Evening," Freed smiled. His eyes flickered over Laxus quickly, taking him in, and Laxus found himself shuffling to his full height. He felt his heart swell when Freed smiled. "Have you been shopping?"

"No," Laxus said a little too quickly.

"You look great."

"Thanks," Laxus ducked his head, then quickly added. "You too, obviously."

"Obviously?" Freed echoed with a question, and Laxus felt his cheeks bloom with heat. Freed didn't push the subject and walked to the door of The Mirror. Laxus had intended to hold the door for Freed, but Freed got there first and did it for him. That was fine. He could still pull Freed's chair out for him. "I have to say, I was surprised that you chose to come here."

"You were?" Concern bloomed. "You don't like it?"

"No, I've wanted to come here for quite some time. I just didn't think it was the kind of place you'd enjoy, is all," Freed looked around the small reception area, eyes flitting all over the place. It looked fancy and stylish, but Laxus clearly didn't see whatever had Freed so fascinated. He couldn't stop looking at Freed.

The host came up to them, and Laxus gave his name. She smiled brightly at them and guided them towards their table. About twenty or so tables, all with two occupants, were laid out. It was all romantic and sweet, with candles and flowers and glittering silverware. Again, Laxus found himself looking at Freed. His ass really did fill out those pants. Could Laxus think like that now? He'd stopped himself before, out of propriety and respect, but if they were on a date then…

What the hell was he thinking about? He was in a fancy ass restaurant, and all he could think about was how damn sexy his date was! That wasn't what you were meant to do, right?

How, in the week of unwanted advice, had nobody told him what was appropriate to think on a date?

As they got to their table, Laxus pulled out one of the chairs, and awkwardly motioned for Freed to take it. Freed did, a little slowly, and let Laxus sweep him up with it. Once Freed was properly settled, and Laxus had told himself a hundred times that Freed would see it as romantic and not painfully awkward, Laxus took a seat on the other side of the table. The host said that their server would be soon over, leaving them alone. Together. On a date.

"You look a little nervous," Freed said gently. "You don't need to be."

"I'm not," Laxus said quickly. Nerves weren't sexy. Confidence was sexy.

"Are you sure?" Freed asked. "Because if you are-"

"I'm not," he insisted. Thoughts of his painful hour with Loke rushed back. They'd discussed this very situation and how to deal with it. He reached over and took Freed's hand in his own, and dammit they were calloused and rough and perfect. Fawning wasn't the plan. Stroking Freed's knuckles was. "It's just that you're so beautiful, it left me breathless."

Laxus felt like an idiot for even saying it. Freed must have sensed it, because he slowly said, "Right."

There was an awkward silence, and Laxus had to fight the urge to pull at the neck hole of his sweater, which was really starting to itch. He'd fucked it up, hadn't he? Already. Any chance of this thing becoming real, and he's messed it up. God dammit!

"Might I posit a theory?" Freed asked, and Laxus frowned, then nodded. "You see, what you just said to me was exactly the same thing that Loke did to me the day he was teaching me how to flirt for Blue Pegasus. Down to the stroking of my knuckles. That, to me, suggests he's been giving you tips. Now, I can't for a second imagine that you approached him, so clearly, he's gotten involved on his own accord. That, combined with us being in a restaurant that nobody without an extensive knowledge of the Fiore culinary world knows about, and you wearing clothes that you don't seem to be all that comfortable in, suggest that maybe you've been given some advice," he shifted so that he had Laxus' hands in his now. "Did the guild get into your head, perhaps?"

Laxus panicked. "No."

"Laxus."

"Yes," Laxus admitted. "Fine, they did. I really wanted this to go well, and I wanted you to see me as someone you could date. I mean, you're you and I'm me and I just got it in my head I needed to-"

"What do you mean I'm me and you're you?"

"Well, c'mon. You're this handsome, elegant, cool guy who tops the Wizard's I Want Drilling Me into the Mattress poll-"

"That's not what it's called."

"-and you can fit in with people and flirt and you know how to look cool and collected in pretty much any situation. You look good. You model. You make guys blush just by talking to them and you always bounce back no matter what you do. I'm just… some guy who you know."

Freed stayed silent for a moment, obviously considering, and he slowly removed his hands from Laxus. "Give me a second."

And then he stood and was walking away, and Laxus wanted the ground to swallow him up. Dumping what you thought about a guy then being self deprecating was not sexy and was a pretty surefire way to end a date. Even before he'd gotten all the advice, he could have figured that out. He'd royally fucked this up. The fact Freed wasn't running for the hills was a damn miracle.

What was Freed actually doing? Laxus watched him as he approached a couple two tables down. "May I have these?" He asked, reaching for their freshly served desserts. When they started to say that, no, obviously he couldn't, Freed didn't stop. He lifted them both and smirked. "Well, then stop me."

They didn't, and Freed walked over with two bowls filled with apple pie and custard. Laxus looked down at them. "If you wanna leave, just do. Don't need to rush to dessert."

"That's not what I'm doing."

Laxus wanted to ask what Freed was doing, but Freed did the most peculiar thing. He plunged his hand into one of the bowls, grabbed as push of the pie as he could, and smashed it on top of his head.

The restaurant fell silent, and everyone just looked at him. Laxus included.

Freed then reached into the other bowl and fished out the pie again, smearing it all over his face. He then hefted both bowls up and upturned them over his head, letting the custard drip down over his face and onto his pristine clothing. He messed it in, ruffling and staining the fabric with the sticky sweet mess.

"What the fuck?" Laxus asked, truly baffled.

"I don't think anyone would call me handsome, elegant or cool right now," Freed said, blinking away a blob of stewed apple. "I think if I tried to flirt, it would be unsuccessful, no self-respecting photographer would allow me to model for them, and I don't think there's a chance that I'll bounce back from this, if the look the manager is giving me is anything to go by."

"What the fuck?" Laxus repeated.

"I agreed to date you, Laxus. Not the odd, polished version of you you've been told you need to be," Freed spoke softly, and it might be romantic if he wasn't covered in pie. "Now, I've heard theres a fajita food truck in the east quarter. How about we get something to eat there, maybe a couple of beers, and we eat by the canal?"

"You-" Laxus felt his throat get dry. "You wanna do that?"

"More than anything," Freed smiled. "Although, even if you don't, we should leave. I think security might have been called."

Twenty minutes later, they were sitting on the edge of the canal, legs dangling over the edge as they ate their fajitas and sipped their beer. Their shoulders were just close enough to bump against each other from time to time, and since Laxus had his jacket resting beside him, he could feel Freed's warmth

"You know you really didn't have to do that," Laxus said at some point. "You got a lifetime ban."

"I'll cope. They seemed quite snobby anyway. And they made me pay for that couple's entire meal. I only ruined their dessert. Hardly fair at all."

"You probably scared them."

"If a little irrationality scares them, then they're weak," Freed huffed, and Laxus had to laugh.

"Are you not at least gonna clean some of the pie off ya. It can't feel good."

"Oh, it feels terrible, but I can't imagine those clothes are all that comfortable for you, so we suffer together," Freed nudged Laxus with his shoulder. "I do appreciate what you were trying to do. I do. But I'd much rather be on a date with the man I've known for ten years. He's quite wonderful, even if a little down on himself sometimes."

"Shut up."

"He cuts quite the figure. Can pull off leopard print like nobody else – I was hoping that's what you would wear, actually."

"Nearly did. Ever talked me out of it."

"Then she shall be decapitated on sight," Freed huffed, and Laxus somehow knew Freed's hand would be on his sword if he'd brought it, just to emphasise his farcical point. But he didn't. He just leant against Laxus as the sun set and looked at him. "I'm glad the night ended like this."

"Me too."

Freed kept looking at him, and Laxus found himself looking back.

In a quick movement, Freed leant up and pressed his lips against Laxus', soft and quick and a little tentative. Laxus' eyes blew wide, and he was brought back to every time he'd ever wondered what it would be like to kiss Freed. Even in that split second, it was better than any of the fantasied, and they'd always been quite wonderful.

"Sorry," Freed gasped. "I just felt-"

"Me too," Laxus quickly said. "That was… is it too much to say it was amazing?"

Freed smiled. "Not at all."

"Then it was amazing."

"It was," Freed grinned slyly. "Even if you had to face your irrational hatred of apple pie?"

Laxus paused. "How d'you know I hate apple pie?"

"The same reason that you knew to pass me the hot sauce when we were getting dinner," Freed shrugged. "We know each other. I also know that you don't like apple pie because you find it bitter, which is ridiculous because it's literally covered in sugar and-"

Laxus leant down, cupped Freed's slightly sticky cheek, and pulled him into a kiss. It was slow and lingering and perfect. All of Laxus' anxieties and doubting voices and worry bled away and were replaced by a total sense of utter rightness.

"Hey," Laxus whispered as he pulled back. He didn't know why.

"Hello," Freed whispered back.

They were kissing again moments later, as the sun set behind them.

[bonzos-number-1-fan]

TMAGP 12 Thoughts: Nostalgia Bait

I have no real preamble on this one. I think it was a fun, straight forward, episode without too too much to really sink out not-soft teeth into here. Also please laugh at that subtitle, I'm very proud of it.

Spoilers for episode 12 below the cut.

A lot of office stuff here it feels like. Not a huge amount to really say on it as like with the rest of this episode it's more building on stuff we've already seen than it is adding new things to the show. Which is obviously not a bad thing but it's fairly straightforward. Celia and Sam are going on a date, which is cute, and Alice is very obviously jealous, which is also cute.

"You wouldn't be tempted?" "No" [bzzt]. Uh huh.

So first things first for the incident, this episode took places on 09/03/2024. 09/03/2024 is the date the incident in episode 10, Saturday Night, was filed. So everything that went down here was the same night that Gwen gave Bonzo the instructions and presumably he just killed whoever had their name in their. We don't really know who that was as of yet. Of the known characters I said it'd likely be Klaus but this was someone new. They're only identified as "Baz" in the episode, assuming the first victim was the main target, and we don't know any Bazs, Basils, or Barrys AFAIK. But if that's someone Gwen would know I think that only leaves two or three people it could be. I think most people will think Baz is a Bouchard or some other family member. I think it's possible that it's either someone on the corporate ladder that Lena eliminates as a show of "this is what it takes to move up in this company". There has been a lot of focus on Gwen's naivety in that area after all. The last main option I see is that it could just be someone fairly "random". Not someone Gwen is necessarily connected to but just some form of threat. Gwen "knows" them more in a general sense of "you know what I'm sending him to do, eliminate a threat". Hard to say just from the incident alone. The lunchbox and theme tune are "real" too, which is fun.

Outside of that not a load to say but it was a fun episode and it's nice to see Bonzo doing Bonzo things. It's really interesting that he appears to have either two "forms" or that he's got some sort of mental manipulation abilities. When Gwen saw Bonzo, despite being aware of him from TV, she reacted with abject horror. The party guests didn't. So either Bonzo didn't look like his current self or he's able to manipulate people's perception of him. Both would account for the reactions he got. Just a guy in a Bonzo suit. Not a sweaty meaty monster.

After that we just see Gwen horrified by the case. Which is an understandable reaction but I don't think its an elucidating one. I wouldn't say how she reacts shows anything beyond terrifying realisation about what the OIAR is. Her brief conversation with Alice also leans in that direction. So if it's a family member it doesn't look like one who's loss is felt as an immediate gut punch.

The only other comment I have on this is how refreshingly different Bonzo is being treated as a primary monster in this show. Unlike in TMA which did a lot of slow build up, small appearances, and things like that we've gotten two episodes very close together where he shows up and is a large focal point of the episode.

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Incident/CAT#R#DPHW Master Sheet

DPHW Theory: 4728 all seems pretty reasonably for what we saw. Death and Helplessness were not major thematic factors but Pain and Weird very much were.

CAT# Theory: 1.

R# Theory: B is totally in line with my ideas on this.

Header talk: Mascot (Kids) -/- Frenzy is what I have been waiting for. Sweet repetition. Sweet, sweet repetition. Episode 10, Saturday Night, was CAT1RB2275 - Mascot (Kids) -/- Murder. An identical Section (Subsection) with a different Crosslink.

This largely confirms that Crosslinks impact DPHW gradings. It doesn't say much about how these things are calculated but I'd wager it's something like Section (Subsection) gets a rating that is then modified by a Crosslink. Rather than all those combinations being in the book. It's not exactly useful information but does give more clarity on the role of the Crosslinks. With both cases having the same CAT#R# it's impossible to say at the moment whether that can be changed by the Crosslink.