#all the possible ship names for these two assholes

[starrynightarchive]

say what you will about zosan as a ship but you would be fool if you think they hate each other. they are undeniably best friends.

they get on each other's nerves. they wash dishes together. they are baring their teeth at each other every day. they fight together and it feels like a dance. it feels like breathing. it feels like they have known each other forever. they both think the other is the worst person to ever exist on this planet. they trust each other with their lives. every step, every sprint, every fight. they don't have to look back to see if the other is keeping up because of course he is. he is the most infuriating, head strong, insane bastard in the world. of course he's keeping up. how annoying.

it's unspoken, this bond between them. they could be at each other's throats but when the marines or the world government or even the fucking devil is in front of them to bring them down, they're on their feet. legs blazing, swords unsheathed. they know their way around each other like the back of their hand. one call of the other's name and he's already there, ready to bring the whole world down. they are the wings of the pirate king. they are the pillars that hold up the home that their captain built. they are two sides of the same coin. sanji and zoro, zoro and sanji, sanjiandzoro.

plates always filled with food that smells like home. hands always searching, always reaching out to pull him back to the right path with an obscenity or two or a million more. but for all his whining, he still comes to get him, every single time.

i will keep you safe. i won't let you lose your way.

eyes always watching. grin sharp and mad, words puling him out of the hell that is his mind with a taunt. silent nights spent in each other's company. the back of a sword jabbed at his ribs. silent determination. steady, solid, under your hands as you lose consciousness.

i will keep you safe. i won't let you forget your worth.

they've never known love that doesn't tear out of them, snarling, spitting, biting. they've never known tenderness. the crew teaches them love in their strange, gentle, loud ways and it's beautiful, it's confusing, it hurts in the best way possible. but with each other? they don't have to hold back. there's something so intimate about holding someone by their collar, dragging them close and yelling look. look. this is how i love. i will kick your face in and make you the best meal you've ever had. i will spend all my time thinking of stupid names to call you. i won't ever say you matter to me, but i will die for you. i will trust you with all that is important to me. look at this fucking mess. this is how i will always love. with teeth and nails and intent to kill. are you afraid yet? only to have the other lean closer with a grin so feral and say, do your worst, asshole.

they are nakama. they are rivals. they are friends. what they have cannot be put down in one word but in the end, the word will come down to something close to love.

[threeacttragedy]

Entry 8: The One About the Adjacent of Convenience

Are you guys ready to return to our regularly scheduled programme?

Actually, I must applaud the majority of the people who read my blog for how well they handled Sunday. It seemed many of you got a good laugh out of it and were then gifted Monday morning with an updated post from that dear restauranteur tossing out Lady Whistledown’s name for – honestly, I don’t know why he threw it out there. Do you?

Moving on…

Yesterday, I discussed Antonia. Today, I am going to venture over to the other side of the fandom and discuss – you guessed it – Jake Dunn.

And, no, I’m not summoning the Balrog today. In fact, I don’t equate Jake to a creature from the depths of Moria because, generally speaking, he doesn’t bother me.

Do I find him a tad annoying? Of course I do. But, only because the perception of his relationship with Nicola has been warped into something ass backwards (no pun intended) to anyone with two bits of common sense, and because he’s always inconveniently there.

At the right time.

For those pap pictures.

However, the rational side of my brain reminds me that if I don’t see anything romantic in Nicola’s relationships with, say, JVN, Mark, Golda, Jack, or either of the Dylans, I shouldn’t be bothered by her relationship with Jake. Would we be paying any attention to Jake if he wasn’t being shoved down our throats by anti-Lukolas? No, probably not.

But, here we are.

I will preface this entry with my belief that Jake did not ask to be linked romantically to Nicola. That was Deux Moi's doing. Keep that in mind as you read through this. Deux Moi created that bullshit plotline and then rabid dogs ran with it.

By the way, those are the people you should be worried about. The ones pushing their “Jakola” narratives with blind aggression. I’m talking about those “in your face” assholes whose real motive behind shipping Nicola with anyone-but-Luke is solely based on their rapid-fire hatred towards Luke. These people are not Jakolas; these people are the Jakholes.

*Oh, now is the time to slip this in… My disclaimer (or, my “ask”) for today is, let’s not pick on the Sincerely Ignorant Jakola shippers. They are just as volatile as the Sincerely Ignorant Lukola shippers. They spiral fast and hard, too. Seriously, don’t fuck with these people, please. I believe most of them to be nice people.

Thank you, next.

I know that some of you will argue that Jake is a manipulative little shit and intentionally tried to make connections between Nicola and himself by way of pictures in her personal spaces and a fucking bucket hat, and that may be true. In fact, I’ve heard this argument from Lukolas that I highly respect. It’s very possible Jake has taken advantage of his friendship with Nicola. I understand the argument behind this theory and, I’ll be honest, it has made me question Jake’s character.

But, that’s not the point I’m trying to make today.

Today, I want to focus on how Jake became an “adjacent of convenience.”

What is that exactly? Well, actually, I just now made that shit up. But, it means he’s an adjacent, not because he’s romantically involved with Nicola, but rather he was in the wrong place at the right time.

It’s funny to me, when you spend some time mapping out all the little nuances that make up the Lukola timeline, that you start seeing a bigger picture.

I do not know who was behind Papsmear. Word on the street is that it was Deux Moi. I don’t know if anyone has ever actually confirmed that so, for now, I can only speculate – and speculate I will!

If you look at events in chronological order, it is interesting that, in July, the day before a video of Luke and Antonia at the GQ dinner hit social media, Deux Moi posted old pictures of Luke and Antonia from, I believe, January. Why? It’s also interesting that the day before People Magazine published the Italy Pap pictures of Luke and Antonia, Deux Moi rehashed Papsmear. Again, why?

Do you see the patterns patterning?

I thought you would.

Then what happened?

Well, “Hot Boy Summer” suddenly came to an abrupt halt with Luke returning to London.

Alone.

Is it odd to you that Luke has not been papped with Antonia since the end of July? Because it’s pretty damn odd to me. Is it possible that Luke and Antonia ceased to be “together” at the end of July? If you have read my previous entry, you already know my opinion on this.

But, dammit, that’s a shame! No more scraps for the paps. How unfortunate for Deux Moi.

Okay, then what?

Well, “Chaos Week” began. We had Nicola posting a shit storm of content starting August 4 with French toast and ending August 16 with “Juna.” We had Wordle. We had Scrabble. We had the “Drink Your Milk” shirt. We had “Bless the Telephone.” We had “very demure, very mindful” (which, in my opinion, was confirming the intent behind “Chaos Week”). Oddly, all these things seemed to weigh heavily in Lukolas’ favor. We could even take it a bit further by including the August 22 “BTS Polin” picture and the August 23 “modern day carriage” story (you know, the picture of Nicola looking oh-so-come-hither-sexy in the back of a car), which was followed up two days later by JVN’s “finger” demo. I mean, the Lukola train was rolling, right?! Fuck, yeah, it was!

But, then it came to a very abrupt stop on August 25 when Deux Moi posted pictures of Nicola hanging out with Jake at a music festival. The narrative being given? Oh, so cozy vibes.

And, that’s the moment Jake became an adjacent of convenience.

Just from being at a concert.

Taking a picture with Nicola.

Before this point, did I know who Jake Dunn was? Yeah, I did. I’d seen – in fact DEUX MOI – post pictures of Nicola and Jake hanging out in a pub together in July. I’ll be honest, I looked Jake up at the time and everything I read about him seemed to point in the exact same direction it points to today – that he’s not romantically involved with Nicola.

In fact, I polled at least two dozen of my fellow Lukolas (with the majority of them being fellow Fact Finders, with a select few being “long haulers”) about whether they’d heard of “Jakolas” before August 25. Their answer was a collective and figuratively loud NO.

What does that say to you? It makes me believe that the Jakolas were born from those festival pictures.

How convenient.

Just a few short weeks after the Antonia/Luke ship (do they even have a name?) hit an iceberg (pun intended), we suddenly have the christening of a new ship. The USS Jakola.

How convenient.

Now, think about every good thing that has come about in the Lukola fandom since the Jakholes were released into the wild.

Every positive has been collectively counteracted with a negative.

Think about the timing of all those pap pictures with Jake.

Think about who is releasing those pap pictures.

Are the patterns starting to pattern in your head?

Think about how much effort Nicola has put into erasing the Jakola narrative.

Think about how little effort Nicola has put into erasing the Lukola narrative.

Think about how much that must piss the fuck out of the Jakholes. And Deux Moi.

Anyone want to go with me to rescue Jake from the USS Jakola? I heard the Jakholes put him in the hull closet.

If you have some hesitation, I suppose I could agree to keep him hostage until we know where his allegiance lies. But I'm thinking he's dying to get off that ship.

[black-rose-writings]

Things I have gathered about Danny Phanton without having ever watched the show (from posts and fanfics):

There's ghosts and they're kind of assholes, but they're also all friends and have christmas parties. Their presence is treated as a mild annoyance by everyone except the ghost hunters.

The main character is a dead 14yo. Sometimes. He's also trans.

There are adult professional ghost hunters around. Literally all of them seem like they are just taking out their serial killer urges on ghosts. "Man is the real monster" trope in action. At least some of the ghost hunters are a Men In Black parody.

The dead 14yo actually the most competent at removing ghosts from the mortal plane.

There is another 14yo who is not dead and also hunting ghosts. She's somehow also more competent at it than the adults.

The MC's parents are ghost hunters and want to torture him into perma-death. That is somehow not the biggest problem with their parenting.

(Like, I get that adults in kids' media need to be kinda dumb and immature for the premise of the show/book/movie/whatever to work, but I'm getting the feeling the adults in this show cross the line of 'plot necessary dumbass' into 'fucked up and abusive' territorry.)

One of the ghosts is tiny, piloting a giant mecha suit and dedicated to skinning the MC and hanging his skin on his wall. He somehow also has a cool rocker girlfriend and thinks this will impress her. Jury's out on whether or not that's a good strategy.

There is a ghost called the Box Ghost, who demands to be taken seriously. Nobody takes him seriously.

The MC's nemesis is another dude who is sometimes dead. He looks like a vampire and swears in food. He also wants to kill the MC's dad (for mostly valid reasons) and bang his mom (for no good reason at all) and adopt the MC as his son(mostly because of his hangups around the parents, not because said parents suck at being parents). In a villainous and fucked up way, because he's the main antagonists. He's also a billionaire, has a cat, and is weirdly obsessed with american football (IDK jack shit about american football, but the level of obsession is treated as not normal by the characters so I will assume it is weird and just how americans be like).

There were 3 seasons, but half of the fandom is convinced the third one may have been a fever dream because it's so bad.

There was a finale that everyone pretends didn't happen because it sucked.

There is at least one time travel fix it episode and the time travel ghost wears way too many watches.

The MC has two living friends - Wade from Kim Possible, but thinner and leaves his house, and a jewish goth vegan.

The MC has a clone and she's a baby and a gremlin.

The ships all have the weirdest fucking names.

Somehow half the named characters being dead is not the angstiest part of the show.

I kinda want to know how someone came up with it and what drugs they were taking. IDK if I want to try some or avoid them, but it would be good to know either way.

[greenunoreversecard]

HEYYEYHEY CAN I REQUEST LLOYD (ninjago) HEADCANONS PLEASEEEE (ty :3)

A/N: Ofc!I'll do general character ones, as well as x reader ones :) hope ye likey likey:pp

Lloyd, The Greenest and Geekest mf.

General character headcanons:

Half Japanese half Chinese

His hair is box blonde dye and you cannot change my mind.

Left handed

Severely dyslexic and hands off all scroll reading and just reading oriented tasks to kai.

Def gen z vibes. Like, the others give off more inbetween z and millenial, so they dont always get his humor. And sometimes he uses that to his advantage and "Speaks in code" (uses as much slang as possible)

Has LED lights in his room set to forest green.

Has given himself a smiley face tattoo.

Cried over a dead goose once.

OK, just to preface i see cole as a stoner of Sorts and uses the excuse "it gets me closer to my element"

With that in mind cole let lloyd try it and now sometimes when he is told to unwind, of feels like he needs to take a chill pill he and Cole spark up

in the beginning of his leader ship role, he used to Say;"kick ass and take names" and if things went wrong he had the fuck it we ball mindset, but got better with time. There are still times they wing it, though.

if he isnt in his gi he almost exclusively wears his pajamas (aka a Hoodie, tshirt and sweats)

Vv tired, and now has a raging addiction to energy drinks due to his lack of Sleep.

He used to eat worms as a kid bc he Thought he it was evil.

Has a eyebrow piercing, and wants a tongue piercing.

Wears "reading" glasses, that he should technically wear all the time because he can't see up close and has a astigmatism,, but he says yolo. Zane then make him contacts after he almost ran into a moving blade and got his head severed.

Adhd and OCD, as well as the normal line up (anxiety, depression, cptsd)

Lloyd in a relationship:

Hes very distant in the beginning, it'll take time to warm up to you.

He tends to be orage cat vibes.

On the cat trend, he gets close for a bit Before becoming distant. Going through waves of affection, kinda.

He hasn't had like, any good relationships in his life so he tries to "protect" himself when he feels he gets to close to you, and so he pulls away.

He does the fuckboy face when your sad bc it makes you laugh, as well as That weird dice roll

He actually does the face/dice roll combo whenever he Sees you as he walks over, it's an inside joke now

primary giving love language: acts of service and quality time

Primary receiving love language: gifts and words of affirmation. But physical touch is also high up there.

Also, not expensive gifts. He hates those. Give him a stick you saw on a walk that made you think of him. He'll cherish it forever. And maybe cry.

He will cry.

will make noises at you and expects a noise in response or he'll be sad.

Also randomly bites you. He's a nommer

also sends you memes throughout the day.

As well as random pictures with the caption;"BABY LOK THIS IS S. US IF WE WHERE *insert whatever item here*

Called you babe, baby, love, shitface, asshole.

Expect kind and loving gentle bullying.

Doesnt know how to express his emotions to just expect him to come up to you, lightly shake your shoulders and aggressively say;"I love you bitch.i ain't Evea gon stop lovin you. Bitchhhhhhh" (vine reference)

Sends you .5 of everyone, himself included. He's addicted to Taking them. You will not get out of it.

Also sometimes just walks around in nyas stilettos for fun.

You two have fashion shows.

You also take over the Living room sometimes and build giant ass forts to watch shitty reality tv in and make fun oF The people

Overall, once he realizes you won't leave he's the most funniest loving chaotic guy.

But expect it to take a hot minute for him to realsie this

give him time,, but also have some deep talks..

Let him vent

and for the love of God don't hurt the baby's heart.

Expect inside jokes

[vroomvroomcircuit]

You pulling in made me wish your Dad pulled out

(A/N): Thank you to @foreveralbon for workshopping this fic with me with this prompt. I don't know what to do if you weren't my muse.

Summary: Charles pissed off his neighbor with his parking. Her answers are notes taped to his car window. How can evolve more out of that?

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x female!reader

Wordcount: 1.6k

🏎Masterlist🏎 ________________________

(Y/N) knows that she isn’t the most professional car parker. She should never start a career as a valet for sure. After all, she needed a second attempt on her own practical test to attain her drivers license.

But there is this one neighbor of hers. She doesn’t know what he looks like, what his name is or where he even lives. But (Y/N) knows one thing for sure: He is a shit parker.

Like, he is the worst person at parking that has ever walked the world. If he could, he probably would park his oh so expensive car onto other cars. But she tries to not let that get too close to her. After all, we just talk about parking spaces and it’s not worth getting her blood pressure up over it.

But (Y/N) found her tipping point.

Her whole morning has been a shit show. Her alarm went off, but she accidentally turned it off instead of giving herself another five minutes of sleep. Five minutes turned into 45. That meant the young woman had to rush through her usual morning routine and she is 90 % sure that she put at least one clothing item on the wrong way.

But it’s ok, she is still on time. She just needs to get out of the car par-

This is where (Y/N) last thread of patience with that neighbor snaps in two like a potato chip, crisp and unclean. This person parked the front half of his car in a way that completely blocks (Y/N)’s rear end from exiting the car in a way that does not hinder the sidewalk.

It takes a solid seven minutes to get out of her spot, trying not to scratch hers or another car. Arriving a few minutes late at work because of that and receiving a reprimand from her boss is really the young woman’s last straw. On her lunch break she does some snooping on the internet and comes across a really fine find. It’s worth the price and shipping cost to her.

Actually, she can’t wait for the week it is supposed to take to arrive at her doorstep.

But the time between that particular day and the day of arrival do fly by when you use it getting madder and madder at the dickhead that is unable to park like a normal person.

The next occurrence doesn’t take long after (Y/N)’s package finally arrives. She wanted to park her vehicle in her usual spot when Mr. Ferrari already took his and her own too. How can one person be such an asshole?

(Y/N) takes one of the business card sized cuts out of her glove box and puts it in the slit of the black car’s window. Satisfied with her work she steps back into her vehicle and looks for a different spot, ending up walking several minutes back to her apartment building, having to look somewhere farther away.

Charles can see from a distance that there is a card at his car’s windowshield. Which makes him suspicious. Surely no one thinks that he wants to sell his car for cheap, so it can’t be one of those car handler’s business cards. Maybe it’s a new ruse of thieves, trying to get him to stand long enough at his car to read it and be able to steal his car. Or they are kidnappers. Anyways, he makes quick work of putting the card into his pocket and drives off at a neck breaking speed.

When he arrives at his destination, the Monegasque pulls the piece of paper out and reads it. “The way you pulled in makes me wish your dad pulled out”, he reads aloud, laughing a little to himself.

He has to admit that he might not be the best at parking. Who is he even kidding, he would win the world championship at being the worst car parker possible. But the thought of someone getting that angered over his non-existent skills.

It’s something that makes him happy throughout his entire day. Which is his main reason to try and look how much he can piss that particular neighbor off even more.

So Charles starts parking even worse. If he also starts on the habit of watching out of his window more often now, he would claim it is just a coincidence. But something in him wants to meet that neighbor.

That person that gets more and more creative with their insults. One time they called him an obstacle to evolution. The other day the business card said something along the lines of him belonging to the asshole club now.

Another, a handwritten, note asked him not to reproduce. The neighbor even left a condom for him. This made Charles laugh so loudly, that (Y/N) looked out her opened window.

She just finished one of the worst shifts she ever had since starting that job and all she wants is just a quiet evening to come down from the stress. Just the noise of the laugh is enough to set her off again.

Seeing her handsome neighbor from under her apartment pocketing the note and condom she left just minutes earlier isn’t what she expected. Watching him opening the car, sitting down and driving off is even less on her list.

It kind of destroys her world view, realizing that hot neighbor and asshole parker are the same person. In the last couple of weeks (Y/N) started to get some fun out of the mean comments she left at the black Ferrari’s window. This also could be her chance to finally make a move on him.

The young woman waits for the brunette to return with his car and stays seated on her couch for another couple minutes, for extra measure of course. After that, she leaves the apartment building with her prepared note and tapes it to the car’s rear window.

Charles on the other side stays glued to his window as soon as he enters his apartment. He finally wants to catch the person that gets angrier and angrier each time he parks in an outrageous way in the act.

Seeing the beautiful neighbor, who lives above him, sticking another note to his car makes his heart flutter in an unexpected way. For some time now he wanted to get to know her and if everything went according to his original plan, ask her out on a date. But maybe he can now use this to his advantage.

As soon as the beautiful neighbor is back in the building Charles waits an extra couple minutes before he once again makes his way to his car.

Running over his vehicle with a pep in his step, Charles is kind of excited about what insults or threats await him now. He has to admit, he actually parked pretty decently. Or as decent as he is able to. So the note has to be at least a little bit nicer than the previous ones.

“Hey neighbor. I thought instead of shitting on you and your parking skills even more, I want you to help and get better. I may not be a driving teacher, but helping you wouldn’t make your skills worse. Just text me with the times you are available at ;)” signed with (Y/N)’s name and number.

It’s kind of funny to explain to the press later how Charles met (Y/N) and became her boyfriend.

"Yeah, well I know that my driving has become sort of a, a meme,” he answers when asked a week after his announcement on instagram, “And my neighbor wasn’t too fond of it either. So she started to leave me these really funny, but also really aggressive notes at my car. One said something like I won the inconsiderate Parker Price. Which made me quite proud.” This entices a laugh out of the journalist. “Yeah, (Y/N) has a really good way with words, I fear. But in the end she offered me some parking lessons.” Charles smiles and thinks back to them.

He had texted (Y/N) immediately and they set up a date for the lesson two days away. But they still continued to text non stop and by the time they met up, it felt like they had been friends for years.

Which didn’t stop (Y/N) raging at Charles after his fifth failed attempt of parking his car according to her instructions. “I don’t believe you anymore. With the way you park you are not from Monaco but the deepest and wildest parts of Italy! Your Ferrari seems really fitting now!” This drew a laugh out of him until she graced him with the meanest look he didn’t expect her to be able to muster up.

“How about dinner as a thank you and apology?” He asked sheepishly, trying both to diffuse the situation and make his move. Why not shoot his shot right now?

Luckily the young woman agreed.

“In the end my parking skills weren’t enough to win her over, but my charm was what scored me a second date.”

And a third. A relationship. After some more funny parking jokes and him kneeling down on one knee with a ring and the promise to take lessons to keep their future family safe he even scored himself his unexpected forever.

[awkward-tension-art]

Darkness on Umbara Chp.10 (Rex x Reader)

Chapter 9. Chapter 11.

Mayhem and Chaos

cw: Rex x Reader, Reader is a medic, incorrect military procedure, graphic descriptions of injuries, blood, swearing, death and battle, Spoilers for the Umbara Arc, Pong Krell is an asshole, reader insert, names of non-canon dead clones, Mentions of breakdowns, reader is gender neutral, no use of (Y/N), if i miss a tag LMK

Minors DNI

As predicted, Fives and Hardcase were causing trouble. Were you going to stop it? No. Would you get involved? No. 

Would you standby and watch? Absolutely. 

At some point Kix had also joined in, aiding the troopers in their toying with the starships. 

You sat back, hoping you didn’t have to use life saving measures on any of these lovable idiots. 

“All right…” Fives typed away at a console next to the ship Hardcase had chosen. After some tinkering, the ARC trooper looked back up, “Okay, there. Should be a little easier.”

Hardcase rolled his wrists, adjusting to the controls. After a few moments to prepare, the Umbaran fighter lifted into the air, hovering unsteadily.  You weren’t entirely sure what they had changed from the first time, but you really really hoped nothing was going to explode.

After a couple of moments however, the ship jerked forward and the trooper inside overcorrected backward. One of the wings slammed into a stack of crates, sending them flying into the far side wall. Fives ducked, narrowly avoiding getting struck by the ship as well.

“Hardcase! What are you doing!?” He shouted up. 

“If I knew I wouldn’t be doing it!” Hardcase snapped back, clipping another umbaran fighter and dislodging from its holdings. 

You grabbed Kix and dove out of the way, barely dodging the thing as it hit the ground and knocked over shelves of metal boxes. The ship was out of control, spinning in the air and nearly hitting two other troopers. 

“Look out!”

“Move!”

Fives gripped the console and shook his head, “Great. This can't get much worse!”

As if on command, an intercom from a different dashboard buzzed before Krells voice boomed out, “Trooper, what's going on down there?”

The ARC trooper shoved the soldier out of the way, “Er... Yes, sir. Everything's fine in the hangar, sir.” He answered sounding as unconvincing as possible, 

Hardcase slammed into two other starships, sending them to the ground with loud clangs. You flinched, knowing this was going to be hard to explain.

“Then why have the alarms been triggered?!” The Jedi snapped over the console.

Fives stuttered before barely coming up with a response, “It's just a drill, a safety drill, sir!”

You and Kix managed to get behind a knocked down pile of crates. Both of you watched helplessly as Hardcase spun out of control, ramming into the wall and bouncing off of it. 

“Safety check occurs at 0600. Who authorized this drill?!”

The ARC trooper choked on his words before coming up with another excuse, “Uh...We are decrypting the alien hardware, sir. Standard operating procedure!” He finally found an answer to tell the General. 

Clones can not lie for shit! You threw a dumbfounded look at Kix before running to another spot for safety. 

Hardcase hit an already downed ship, sending it bouncing in one direction before screeching to a halt. Apparently things could get worse because the damn starship began to rapidly fire green bolts everywhere. 

“Shit!” You ducked down behind an open metal crate, next to Jesse “Hardcase, can you land the fucking thing!?”

“Let me try!” He called down to you. After a twist of his wrist, one of the large cannons attached jerked slightly and charged up a bright bolt, “No, no, no, no, no!” Hardcase desperately tried to undo…whatever he triggered, but was too late. 

The bolt launched, hitting directly into the hangar doors, causing a burst of light and the metal to melt into ash. 

“They’re dead. Krell is going to kill them.” Kix mumbled, sitting next to you, and Jesse, who was laughing too hard to speak. 

You had your face in your hands when Hardcase managed to land the Umbaran fighter, “Got it. I got it. It's easy. Just level your hands.” He had a proud smirk when the ship was fully on the ground and the cockpit opened. 

Five dashed forward, exasperated at what happened, “What, are you crazy? You could've gotten us killed! Not to mention ruining our hopes of flying this mission!” 

“It's a malfunction, no harm done.” The other trooper tried to calm his friend. Before he could say anything else, another voice cut through the air. 

“Explain this,” Krell demanded as he stomped towards the clones, “Now.” He was followed by captain Rex who looked more concerned and confused than mad.

Fuck! Clones really can’t lie for shit! You shot up, instantly speaking, “It was a trap, sir!” You could hear Jesse repress his snickering as you continued, turning the Jedi’s ire to you, “They were decrypting the enemy craft when what appears to be some sort of preventative failsafe went off.”

Rex’s eyes widened at you, but he remained silent, praying the Jedi wouldn’t see right through you.

“A trap!?” The General leaned forward at you, glaring. 

“Yes sir,” Hardcase spoke up, covering for your lie, “The fighter went haywire and had I not been able to get control of it, and aim the missile at the doors, something worse might've happened.” He was standing at attention as the besalisk stared him down. 

You kicked Jesse who hadn’t managed to stop his laughing. Rex, on the other hand, looked damn near stupefied. Kix had his face in his hands and you swear you could hear him praying.

Krell put his arms behind his back, a critical gaze on the troopers in front of him, “Is this true?” His question was directed at Fives who flinched at the sudden attention. 

After a second to stutter he nodded, “Yes, sir. That is what happened, no doubt.” 

The jedi General huffed, “Well, Captain Rex, looks like I was correct. The Umbaran fighters are dangerous and not fit for flight,” He turned and began to walk out of the half-destroyed hangar, “Lock down these fighters. I don’t want anything else exploding.” 

Rex shook his head and cast a look at Fives and Hardcase before turning to follow the general. 

You sank to the floor, putting your face in your hands. Jesse managed to calm down enough to get up and give a friendly clap to the two soldiers, “I thought the plan was to destroy the enemy ship with the fighters, not blow up our own hangar.” He had a grin as he put a hand on his hip. 

You were about to say something when your comm beeped, “Doctor, you're needed in the medical bay. A patrol’s been injured.” Without waiting another beat, you dashed out of the hangar, Kix close behind you.

The two of you had arrived to a broken patrol of 5 men. 

The most healthy was Cloud, holding a broken arm. But he was standing, and not your concern at the moment. 

Blue had a hand over his charred shoulder. His helmet was off and he was breathing, awake and aware of his surroundings, However, next to him was a trooper laying on the floor. You could see the blood seep from under the helmet and pool onto the sterile white tiles. 

Forty. His name is Forty. You remembered, spotting the ‘40’ he had written on his helmet. 

Bind was on the floor, normally white plastiod stained a deep red. His helmet was off, jaw barely hanging on to his skull by shredded muscle and ripped tendons. It looked like he took a blaster bolt directly through the mouth, melting his tanned skin. 

In his shaky arms was Thrall, heavy amounts of blood streaming from his stomach and chest. It looked like he had been ripped open by a beast and then thrown around. He was unmoving, and you weren’t even sure if he was even breathing.

“Kix, take Forty!” You commanded, immediately leaping into your training. Within minutes you had Thrall on one of the medical beds and hooked up to life support machinery.

Visually, you assessed the damage. To be safe, you used your new umbaran scanner to confirm. 

Broken ribs. Ruptured diaphragm. Collapsed right lung.

Your medical mind put the pieces together. You prioritized. 

Stabilize the lung, restore oxygen. Then, control the bleeding. Repair the diaphragm. Stabilize ribs. 

So you got to work. Your hands were fast and efficient, setting the chest tube correctly to inflate the lung. From there, you focused on the sources of bleeding. However, your repairs weren’t quick enough. 

Thrall’s heart rate took a nosedive. You fought against his death as long as you could, using a cardiac massage and other life restoring methods to keep him alive. As hard as you struggled and tried to save him, his body gave out. 

Thrall succumbed to his wounds, and the list of the dead forced its way into your head. 

Fyre. Vim. Oz. Ringo. North. Gabe. Tro. Tess. Zeb. Sante. Reign. Pheon. Dawn. Nim. Jamie. Hek. Recon. Mav. Zeo. Fisher. Hinge. Trident. Iron. Mesh. Steele. Bruno. Zeke. Jumper. Aura. Dia. Silk. Thrall.

“I’m sorry, He’s gone.” You informed the others before getting to Bind’s side. Kix was still working on Forty, and you couldn’t see exactly what the medic was dealing with.

Bind was breathing heavily, clearly in agony over the damage that was done to him. He was trembling, terrified and now grief stricken from losing Thrall.

“Bind, don’t worry, I got you.” Your voice took a soft tone as you injected him with the strongest painkiller available to you, “What happened to you five?” 

“Krell sent us to a backroad West of here,” Blue responded shakily, “Said it could be used as a supply route, but…”

“He didn’t tell us traps were set over there.” Cloud finished his comrades sentence, “When we commed him for a scanner to sweep the area he said there wasn’t time. We needed to secure the road.” 

“Krell…” You growled.

Bind flinched, jumping slightly when your finger brushed over an exposed nerve. 

Immediately you felt sympathy. As someone who, just a rotation ago, had your own nerves exposed to open air, you knew his pain, “I’m sorry Bind.” you murmured softly, “I know it hurts…”

He stared at you, brown eyes filled with unshed tears. 

Soldier bravado…of course…

“Blue,” you called to the trooper, “Come here, and let him squeeze your hand. He’s in a lot of pain.” You hid the true intentions of your request. 

Hold his hand so he doesn’t feel alone. 

Blue did as asked, clasping his trembling brother's hand. 

Kix slammed his hands down on the surgical table. He swore, sweeping the medical supplies onto the tile floor where they clattered, “He’s gone.” His voice was trembling from emotion. 

Forty.

Cloud slid onto the floor and ripped off his helmet before throwing it. It bounced a couple of times on the ground, “I fucking hate Krell!” He snapped. You didn’t comment when you saw the tears on his cheeks, “He’s purposely trying to get all of us killed!” 

Kix sat down next to you, aiding in Bind’s jaw. This time, Blue spoke up, “How many men have we lost?”

“Too many.” Your answer didn’t seem to make him happy, so with a sigh you told the truth, “Assuming any MIA are casualties…almost a third.” You’ve seen the numbers. You’ve seen the names. The list you replayed in your head were only those who died under your hands that you blamed on Krell. There were many more. Those you couldn’t get to. Those who perished in the field that would remain as they decomposed. Those Kix lost. 

There were too many that have died on Umbaran soil.

With Anakin and Ahoska, these numbers would never get so high. When they would lead, Kix and you were enough to handle the 501st with the Venator on standby to take the more seriously injured off the field. 

But with Krell? It was clear that two medics wasn’t nearly enough. 

If you had known this was going to happen, you would have contacted those you knew in other legions for support. You were sure General Plo would have gladly given his medics in the 104th to support the 501st. 

Fuck, if General Plo was leading the 501st, you were sure Kix and you wouldn’t even have injured to help.

“One third.” Cloud whispered, “one third of our brothers…”

You stabilized Bind’s jaw and let Kix finish up. Wordlessly you went to the emotional trooper's side to begin to help his broken arm. Before you did so, you reached up and wiped his tears from his cheeks, “I’m sorry,” you whispered, “When we get out of this, and we will get out of this, I’m going to reach out to some contacts to punish Krell for all of this.”

“Will that even work?” Blue asked from where he was, now being tended to by the clone medic. 

With a sigh you gave an honest answer, “I’m not sure,” you admitted, “But I know some senators. Even helped a few, so I’m sure they’d be willing to at least listen to me.”

“Just give up, Doc.” Cloud sniffled, looking away from you, “No one cares about us. We’re clones. We’re meant to be thrown onto the battlefield and then thrown away like trash.” 

“Not if I can help it.” You responded, “I’ll become a senator just to stop that from happening if I have to.”

Blue snorted, “I’m gonna tell you, Doc. it's talk like this that has Captain Rex in love with you.”

Oh, shit did they know? Play dumb. Kix glanced up at you before looking back down at Blue’s shoulder. 

Your words were steady and calm as you spoke, “He’s not in love with me, we’re just good friends.”

“You might see that,” Blue continued before wincing at something Kix had done, “But every time you turn your back, the Captain gets this lovestruck look in his eyes. He looks like a puppy, I swear to the Maker.”

Bind nodded in confirmation.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly. Oh if only they knew the truth.

Then an idea came into your head.

“What else does he do?” You asked playfully, taking full advantage of this. 

“Well, that last planet, on Sataran.” the trooper continued, “there were three women and two men that tried to get with him. And not only did he turn them all down, he was looking for you directly afterward.”

You remembered that. Poor Rex had been so flustered to have been flirted with so aggressively. 

“He’s in love with you, doctor.” Cloud chimed in quietly, “You make him happy.” 

These guys needed a distraction from their grief. That much was clear. It's why Blue was so quick to start gossiping about their captain. All you could do was smile softly.

“All set,” you stood once Cloud’s arm was stable, “Bind, I want you to stay here, take the bed on the far left. Blue, Cloud, you two can go to the barracks to rest.” They all gave you a salute before following your command. 

Once Bind was under the effects of painkillers and sedatives, you took a deep breath, “How long was that?”

“Couple hours at least,” Kix murmured, sitting down on a stool next to one of the medical consoles, after a few moments he sighed, “So one third of the 501st is dead?”

You confirmed with a nod.

“Maker, we suck at our jobs.” He mumbled, rubbing his face in his hands. 

With a bitter snort, you began to evaluate the other soldiers. You use the scanner you cracked earlier. Their wounds differed of course. Severe burns, broken bones, head injuries, but the anomaly in their brains was consistent. 

Perhaps it’s just a clone thing…

As you were working, the doors opened again. Dogma and Tup walked into the med bay. The longer haired trooper looked tired, as if he had been woken up against his will and dragged here by the former. 

“Are you two alright?” You spoke first, thinking perhaps they needed something for their sleep. It wasn't unheard of for troopers to need medicine in order to get a proper amount of rest. 

“Well, doctor,” Tup cleared his throat, “We-”

“Where did Hardcase, Jesse, and Fives go?” Dogma demanded. 

Oh boy…

“If you two are just here to waste our fucking time, you may as well leave.” Kix snapped, standing to face them. 

Dogma, however, didn't seem entirely phased by the medic, “If you know where they are, you need to tell the General. Otherwise it's insubordination.”

Poor Tup looked like he didn’t want to be here. You noticed the trooper looked extremely uncomfortable and unsure. 

Your anger spiked, “Fine,” You approached the demanding trooper and grabbed his wrist, “Let me show you what we’ve been doing.” Your steps lead you to the surgical table that Thrall was laying on under a sheet. Still holding his wrist, you threw back the white cover, revealing the dead trooper. 

“That!” You snapped, glaring at Dogma as he yanked his wrist back, eyes wide. “We don't know where those three are because we have been trying to fix that!”

Fyre. Vim. Oz. Ringo. North. Gabe. Tro. Tess. Zeb. Sante. Reign. Pheon. Dawn. Nim. Jamie. Hek. Recon. Mav. Zeo. Fisher. Hinge. Trident. Iron. Mesh. Steele. Bruno. Zeke. Jumper. Aura. Dia. Silk. Forty. Thrall.

Your emotions surged. Your vision blurred with tears. 

Fuck. Calm down. Keep yourself together!

“Your ass kissing of an incompetent General hasn’t done anything to help us.” you seethed, “So get the fuck out of my sight and don’t bother me unless your fucking dying!” 

He scrambled out of the medical bay, most likely to find Rex. Tup stopped in front of the door before looking back, “I think you're doing the best you guys can.” He sounded genuinely sorry for the situation, “Thank you for working so hard, and…I’m sorry.” He left quickly after Dogma, maybe hoping to talk him down. 

Kix sighed and shook his head, “You ok?” He asked quietly. 

No. I’m not. You thought before lying to your medic friend.

“Yea, just…yea. I’m fine.”

[betweenlands]

why you should vote herobrine in every single Tumblr Sexyman poll

he's one of the originals: look, a lot of these upstarts are new to the party. they may be sexy and they may be men, but they lack legacy. not so with herobrine. herobrine's been around. he's been around before sans. he's been around before bill cipher. he's one of the original originals alongside the onceler himself. know your herstory etc etc

he fits more of the criteria: look. i love benrey, i love reigen arataka, i love raymond animalcrossing. but look me in the eyes and tell me: is there a significant portion of people who ship them with themselves? once upon a time that used to be a requirement. and guess who does fit that requirement? that's right. herobrine. i mean, yeah, there's also herosteve i guess, but i was there back in the mid-2010s! i know what i saw! even to this day people will make new herobrine variant ocs! and guess what! sometimes they smooch!

he's a trailblazer: i think quite possibly one of the few more influential video game creepypastas you could cite would be BEN Drowned, but with all my respects -- he does not have the advantage of being in one of the longest-living games of the decade. herobrine, meanwhile? herobrine comes from the same time as first-era MCYT, and no matter how you feel about the phrase "MCYT" as a whole, you should know that interpretive roleplay and storytelling in the confines of video games is very, very cool and very, very important. and the first villain of every 13-year-old's minecraft roleplay? if it wasn't herobrine, he almost certainly made an impact elsewhere.

he's been through a lot: if i had a nickel for every time i saw whitewashed herobrine i would probably be a millionaire. despite being blocks he gets drawn as a stereotypical muscleman (twig herobrines get a pass they have a je ne sais quoi about them). his alive half-brother is a total asshole. people hate him on instinct because some famous jackass or another happens to play the game he's originated from. he's gotten banned from minecraft at least 10 separate times. he doesn't deserve this. he's just really been through the ringer and he really deserves this win.

i love your other guys. i do. except one or two of them but i don't want those guys anywhere near my blog so i'm not naming those fuckers. but for the most part i love like 90% of them and if it were up to me they'd all be given titles for their individual contributions to sexymandom.

but c'mon, y'all, it's herobrine minecraft. someone changed four pixels on the original steve skin and made a complete and utter legend and we can't just let that go unaccoladed forever.

[ID: an image of Herobrine's skin at a 3/4ths angle facing right. /End ID.]

the universe loves you very much, be gay do minecraft and vote herobrine.

[pyjamaart]

Breaking Bot (read more for some rambling about mega man fully charged)

Mega Man Fully Charged has been on my mind again lately, which made me realize that there's literally a robot named Chemistryman who worked as a chemistry teacher. Not using him as a Walter White stand-in would be a criminal offense.

I'll have to admit I started getting back into Fully Charged again after seeing some asshole on twitter complain about the character design for the hundredth time. I just can't stand that kind of negativity. I swear to god, Fully Charged is like the Sonic Boom of the Mega Man franchise. Personally, I really enjoy the FC designs. I've probably said this before, but I feel like the redesigns give some of the more forgettable robot masters way more character. Like, do I care for Classic Drillman from Mega Man 4? I mean, yeah, I do, but I wouldn't care as much if it wasn't for his Fully Charged incarnation.

I also really enjoy most of the original robot masters. I already talked plenty about Blastowoman and why I love her so much, but I want to talk about the others this time.

Take for example Chemistryman. Comparisons to Walter White out of the way, I feel like his character was a really fun idea. God knows I had teachers who put me to sleep back in the day. For me, it wasn't chemistry though, it was my economics teacher. I always compared her to a story teller at a Christmas market who would read children stories out of her big fairy tale book. Only that in reality, it was stuff like the minimization/maximization principle. Most of my notes for that class were incomprehensible chicken scratch, because I just couldn't keep my eyes open. In the end, I slept through like half her classes, lol. But I gotta say that I still always got a B or higher in the end. Somehow. I thank god every day that I never have to step foot in a school again.

I really wish Chemistryman got a little more time to shine though. Two episodes is just way too little. I would gladly take three more episodes with him over those gross Gutsman episodes. I know I love talking about wasted potential with this show, but I wish there was an episode that focused on Chemistryman outside of the school setting. I get that his whole character is "boring, bitter teacher", but I'd really like to see what he gets up to when he's not trying to force children to listen to his chemistry lectures. Like having Aki try to talk him into going into retirement for good. And then he tries to find hobbies for him so that he doesn't bore himself to death. I can see him getting into building model ships or something like that, lol.

Now that I'm already writing up a storm again, I might as well talk about some other headcanons I have about the FC bots. Since Woodman was in sleep mode for 30 years after the war ended (I don't know where I got that number from. I rewatched his debut episode, but the exact number doesn't appear anywhere. Oh well, let's just pretend this is canon, even if it isn't.) we got kind of a Shadow the Hedgehog type situation on our hands. All of his friends and family got to live their lives in this new, peaceful world of harmony between robots and humans, while Woodman spent 30 years powered down in a bush or something. Completely forgotten about. Like, why didn't they go look for him after the war ended? I don't think Aki and Suna wandered that far into the forest for their school assignment. If you really think about Woodmans back story for a moment, you realize how fucked up it actually is. 

Now my explanation for this goes into heavy heavy headcanon territory. When Suna calls the principal about Woodman, he warns her that Woodman is dangerous and to get away from him immediately. Now why would he say that? The principal also calls him "ruthless" in that same explanation. What I think happened back then was that Woodman actually planned to assassinate the human armies leader. (Possibly Sgt. Night?) The leader of the robots caught wind of his plan and put him into sleep mode himself, since he and Dr. Light were on the brink of finding a way to end the war peacefully. In my mind, this leader is the FC version of Swordman. Don't ask me why, he was just the first guy I thought of. And then it just stuck.

I know this makes Woodmans back story even more fucked up, but I just love putting my favorite blorbos through hardship. Don't even ask me about my headcanons for Drillman. They'd actually put me in prison.

Now all this culminates after Woodman is reactivated by Suna and Aki. Finding himself alienated from all his former friends and comrades (Maybe the other Mega Man 2 robot masters?), what was he supposed to do? He couldn't spend the rest of his life isolated (and homeless) in the forest, could he? And this is where season 2 could have delivered. But I'm done whining about that. If Capcom doesn't deliver, I gotta write my own season 2. Simple as that.

Anyway, getting back to Chemistryman, since he's pretty old, I imagine that he was already working as a teacher when Woodman was still around. Maybe he even was his teacher at some point.

And since I love having my favorite characters interact, I also thought of a scenario where Drillman wanders into the forest out of frustration over his miserable life, only to meet Woodman by coincidence. In the end, Woodman helps him work through his daddy issues and his body dysmorphia, while Drillman helps Woodman reintegrate and manage this (for him) completely new world of peace. Another great headcanon of mine is that Chemistryman is actually Acidmans father. Just because I think it would be funny. And as Fully Charged has confirmed: robots in that universe do indeed have parents. (Flashback to the time I drew Dr. Light beating the shit out of Drillman's father)

Speaking of Drillman.... For being one of my favorite Mega Man characters of all time, I haven't drawn him nearly enough. That will probably be my next project.

This might also be a great time to tell you that I've never watched Breaking Bad before, lol. Everything I know about it comes from RTGame's Stardew Valley playthrough and the RTVS Half Life parody.

Sorry for all the yapping. But if I don't talk about robots at least once a day, I might die. This is a serious condition.

[strangestofthings12]

This is going to be a very rambling and venty post cause im tired and annoyed and honestly am just using this to vent my anger/hurt. there is going to be stuff that can maybe be seen as anti tommy/bucktommy (please dont tell me a ship name to put i dont care about if they do have an agreed upon ship name right now) so if you dont want that please just move on. i dont want to fight i just want to yell into the void on a stupid throw away account so i dont bring my negativity stew and come out on my main blog where i just want to enjoy my stuff and just keep happy energy. I dont normally post and try and just find someone who explains it better because im not great and getting what im saying across or understood the way i want, so please bear with me. With that said i will move on to what i want to say

Okay so i have been watching 9-1-1 for years and i love and adore it. Its characters and dynamics and i have always loved found family. Now i will admit that i started watching it thinking that Buck and Eddie were a couple and had a son so i was kinda watching for it. Do i think if i didn't start watching thinking that i would ship them still yes 100%. I have always loved their relationship and i have loved watching both Buck and Eddie grow and start to be happy while also having each others back even at the worst times. Sometimes if i think to hard about Eddie and start crying cause I'm very normal about this show and it characters. Now Eddie is my favorite character in the show and at least in my top five overall favorite characters. I love him and his development and i adore seeing how much he does to just do right by Chris even when he messes up you can tell how much he adores that boy and how badly he wants to give Chris the best life possible. I could write essays about Eddie Diaz trying to explain how much i love him and why and i think words would run out before i could finish making people understand. Buddie is my favorite ship (sometimes second depending on my mood. i would say sorry but Henren and Madney will always be amazing ships and sometimes i just cant stop think about them)(Sorry Bathena i love you too i swear i just cant decide if i wanna kiss athena or be adopted by bobby and athena:( Its confusing) and has been for quite awhile and is one of my overall favorites and its one of my comfort ships.

With that context when bi Buck happened i was so insanely happy and i wouldnt shut up about it. it made me sick. i was so happy for Buck and while i think a part of me will always be a little sad Eddie wasnt his first kiss with a guy i dont think either of them are ready for that. i also understand that it wouldnt make sense for how the story is going right now. Now i have nothing against bucktommy in the show. I have watched the kiss scene and sobbed to much to pretend like i hate them or even dislike them. However I genuinely dont care about Tommy. Hes kinda bland and i forget about him half the time and before they brought him back i completely forgot his name. in my mind he was the one that wasnt as much of an asshole to chim and hen as the other two assholes which wasnt saying a lot. Now I dont dislike tommy nor am i going to act like hes irredeemable because neither Chim nor Hen seem to think hes still that guy and while they dont seem super close they seem to get along so clearly, he's not like that anymore. I have nothing that makes me dislike him nor do I like him. He's just there. He's just the guy buck kissed. Thats all he means to me. I would give up his screen time for Ravi or May or Karen in a heartbeat. because i love them cause they mean something to me. I don't think i thought about the fact that people might actually like him especially not more than EDDIE.

This is where the context matters cause i am to my core a one ship per person girly. I might see a ship and people who like it and even think thats not a terrible ship but i will still only look at content for my ship for that person (ie. i ship Destiel (dont say anything bad about them ill cry<3) but i can see the way someone would also ship Dean and Benny or crowley or Cas and Crowley or Mick but i will ignore the ship and move on and look at more Dean and Cas). normally i will just ignore the ship and move on because im not who its for. If it gets annoying in my tag or anything like that ill block it or whoever is annoying me cause its not a them problem that i dont want to see it. When i start to have a problem is when multiple people arent tagging right for whatever reason or people who are being rude about the ship i like because of their ship. When I started seeing Bucktommy stuff more and more in the 9-1-1 tag i went to the buddie tag cause i dont want to see them. my problem is that when im reading on AO3 and click on a fic tagged Buddie where bucktommy get married. it was literally just hurting Eddie. There was stuff before like id be scrolling though the buddie tag here and see someone saying that Tommy is a better character then Eddie and saying that they hope bucktommy is endgame. Whatever block and move on. Just like always but then people who have shipped buddie for years who ive seen talk about them are suddenly saying that they like bucktommy better. People who started watching because of bucktommy saying they dont like Eddie. People are going to have different opinions but it still bugged me. and then i read that and i was just hurt because it was tagged happy ending and i cannot fathom ever thinking Eddie hurting and pining is a happy ending. So i started to get more annoyed and i hate when that happens especially with a show i love and a character i dont dislike so i tried to just move on but more and more people are taking about it then i saw someone saying that they wanted eddie to die so buck and tommy can have Chris.

I just hate that so many people are jumping on the bucktommy train and saying that they like it better than buddie something that is so good and sweet or saying that they like Tommy more than Eddie. I just dont get it cause Tommy is boring. like yeah we now some about him and he flies a helicopter but hes forgettable he could be a completely different person and next to nothing would have to change. We have seen Eddie at his worst and claw his way back up and hes finally letting himself be open and honest and soft. Eddie couldnt be replaced. Now im not saying Tommy can't be an interesting character but as he is right now?? He just isnt. Hes just as bland as every women (minus Taylor and Shannon) Buck and Eddie have dated and been hated on for no reason!!! Like i get that Tommy is a guy and we got canon Bi Buck and people are happy but those same people turn around and shit on Marisol from what ive seen(I could be wrong cause again i have done my best to avoid). Buddie fans arent safe from that either, cause we all know that Buddie fans do that but so many of those people who hated on them and said they didnt want them with anyone else suddenly decided that they were okay if Buck ended up with any guy. I dont know its just weird and i hate how many people are acting like Eddie isnt always going to be better then Tommy. Part of me wanted Tommy to stick around and help Buck and Eddie figure it all out but now?? i honestly just cant wait for him to be gone cause I want to have fun and read fics for my comfort ship and just chill where i can see all of my ships in the show without buck and tommy being everywhere or people saying crap about Eddie.

I have more to say but most of its about how gratifying waiting and seeing where this whole thing goes(Buddie season 8 PLEASE!!) and this is already why to long and i think im just going in circles and none of this makes sense so ima shut up for now and hopefully this will help it not fester and drive me insane and become a tommy hater

Edit: but i also hate that Tommy calls Buck Evan so he already had some stuff against him rip

[january-summers]

Just thinking about some AUs.

Like: Wash having served on a similar ship to the MoI pre-Freelancer. Similar, but ever so slightly different in lay out so he keeps trying to auto-pilot navigate and getting lost, and Alpha's watching on the camera feeds and at some point just hits "this is too pathetic, i gotta step in" like any back seat gamer watching a let's play, except he actually can... if he can figure out how to get away with it.

So he comms Wash, either through a direct link in his helmet or through a regularly intervaled wall radio. "Uh yeah, I'm... uh... you can just call me... Church? I work in the... uh... yeah don't worry about it but I can see you on the camera feeds, again, and man i gotta tell you for a bad ass space marine this is pretty sad. Tragic really, anyway, turn around, 200 meters and take a left-"

And it keeps happening, and sometimes they just hang out, Wash hiding in a storage closet eating contraband foods (the good chocolate) while Alpha drops some funny stories from the command deck.

And Wash casually mentions him in talk with the other Freelancers, but they never get to talk to Church, and Wash can't introduce him properly, so everyone refers to Church as Wash's imaginary friend.

(... and then no one can figure out why all the AI are low-key obsessed with Wash, like they need him to like them even though he's not their human operator.)

or like (possibly the same AU): There is no Epsilon, Alpha has a moment of clarity about what's happening to him, what's being done to him, and fakes a fragment in order to port himself out and get put wholesale (what remains of him) into Wash's head. It's still pretty traumatic for both of them.

And then they skedaddle, go into hiding somewhere no one would ever think to look for them. Disguised as a sim trooper in a box canyon in the middle of nowhere.

... also thinking about Price deliberately pushing Wash's buttons and trying to provoke his PTSD so he has an excuse to put him on meds, except the meds are (on purpose) meds that Wash knows messes with his head and leads to psychotic episodes and he wouldn't take them, damn the orders, if he knew what they were.

but he doesn't, and he gets into a fight in one of the communal kitchens without his armour on and the first thing the other Freelancers know about it is when they get called for back up to the kitchen to help subdue a man that just killed three other Freelancers (bottom of the pack no-name annoying assholes no one liked or would miss anyway).

'cept the other Freelancers don't clock that it's Wash, because he's out of his armour and Wash is almost never seen without his helmet, unlike the others, so they aren't used to his face, and when they think of wash they think of bright yellow and steady charcoal greys, not "holy fuck that's a lot of blood did he fucking roll in it!?!?" reds.

But by the time they get there, psychotic episode is over, and Wash is in a semi fugue state, kinda clock's Carolina's blue and that he might have done something really bad, so he just drops the knife away from himself and half collapses to his knees like a puppet with cut strings, manages to lock his fingers behind his head before they try to tackle him to the ground.

Wash gets away with a slap on the wrist, and like a months probation. (Director was in on the 'experiment' to begin with, and now they're already down three Freelancers, no need to make it four. ... also Director won a bet about whether Wash could take on/out more than two opponents at a time.)

[oscconfessions]

With every new BFDIA/TPOT episode the TB/GB polyamory grows.

First it was just them, then Fries in Team No-Name, Bomby and Nickel in BFDIA 14, 8Ball with whatever he and Golfy had in BFB, Blocky just because he was on their team in BFB presplit, BasketBall and SnowBall simply because they’re just balls, Puff Ball, Eraser and Pen in late AYO, and Robot Flower before she turned asshole in TPOT.

These two balls are collecting partners like they’re Pokemon cards and I love them for that <3

Honorable mentions:

-Needle (TPOT 12 specifically bc of Pen if ur insane (This could also possibly include the entirety of FreeSmart (and their alternative/various ships) if you try hard enough)

-TearDrop (Because of Eraser during early/mid TPOT if ur also insane)

-Bottle (Once again bc of Eraser)

-Woody (WoodBlock fans rise)

-Gelatin (GelaTen jumpscare, would also include BarfBag and Donut if u once again try hard enough (Plus Firey and thus his various ships too)

-TV (Once again if ur insane)

-Literally every and any alternative ships including literally any characters mentioned above, which would then make the polyamory bigger.

No I’m not a multi shipper, I just REALLY like polyamory

-⭐️🐟 anon (I apologize to whichever mod has to tag all of these characters)

.

[tirsynni]

If we're asking about BotW/TotK ships, any thoughts on Revalink? Asking mostly just because it has been living in my head rent-free for months and I constantly desire more people to talk about it.

Anonymous asked:

Sorry for asking about your opinion on Revalink without even checking to see that you had already written Revalink fics, feel free to ignore previous ask

Oh, honey. I am always happy to talk about Revalink. They are absolutely my BotW/TotK OTP. I also adore Revali and I hungrily devoured even the slightest mention of him in TotK and have multiple WIPs scribbled on my laptop finding out ways to have him actually in TotK.

(Do I still feel a little cheated? Maybe. I wasn't expecting much, but ow, TotK.)

This ship has an insane amount of potential, especially since we have so few of Link's memories available in BotW. Maybe it was always just brutal tension between two fucked up young Champions with far too much weight on their shoulders (with most of it being self-imposed!). Maybe they quietly figured out something, just for Link to forget or maybe he didn't even forget but it didn't matter because the Link of then and the Link of now are so different. Ack! So much potential!

...but anyway.

Pre-Calamity, these two had so much weight dragging them down and not a single positive communication skill in sight. Link was buried under the title of Champion and Hero to the point he could barely see the sky anymore. Revali pushed and pushed and pushed himself to the point of collapse. He was absolutely driven and stubborn and passionate and snarky and desperate for validation. Link was silently begging for everyone to not look at him and Revali was silently begging for someone to fucking see him.

Specifically, he wanted Link to see him.

That's what absolutely kills me about that pairing. We don't know what Link saw or thought. We got everyone's journal but his. Hell, even his memories seemed like they were from an outsider's perspective (especially the last one). But we got Revali's journal and we got to hear Revali speak (and snark and yell) and so it baffles me when people paint him as an asshole who hated Link.

Doubtlessly, Revali would have pushed himself forever without external validation, but it didn't change the fact that he was thirsty for it. Where do we see it most? In his interactions with Link. In his journal talking about Link. It was a constant chant of "See me, see me." Link was strong and skilled and we saw in his limited memories that he pushed himself, too. While Zelda quietly mused in a safe, dry spot, Link stood in the rain and continued to practice with his sword. He threw himself at hordes of monsters and Zelda scolded him for being reckless. For their own reasons, Revali and Link actively pushed themselves arguably long after almost anyone else would have stopped, and I think Revali saw that in Link -- saw a possible peer who valued hard work and sweat and determination -- and desperately wanted Link to see him, too.

When they reunited one hundred years later, for all of Revali's snark about Link making him wait, nothing can convince me that Revali wasn't happy to see him again. We won't know what happened in those final days before the Calamity or what Revali knew about Link during those hundred years, but the fact that Revali specifically told Link to avenge him will forever be telling to me. Revali -- fiercely independent, determined Revali -- recognized that he couldn't avenge his own death. He also didn't expect the fight to be impersonal for Link, for it to be another thing for Link to check off in his quest. He didn't want Link to kill the Blight on his behalf: he wanted Link to do what he couldn't, he wanted Link to treat the fight as something personal, he wanted Link to fight in Revali's name. He wanted Link to avenge him.

(And in return, he gave Link wings and personally lifted him into the sky. <3 With an adorable little flourish.)

I also love the dialogue choices during the fight, and they are part of my argument for why Revali isn't hateful: he's snappy and snarky and is absolutely the guy who shows he cares about by calling his love interest an idiot for failing to appropriately care for himself. He spends that entire fight scolding Link and cheering Link on and snarking at Link and fretting over Link, depending on how the fight goes. He gets so worried for Link. Not because Revali won't be avenged but because Link is hurt and he checks to see if he is okay. ;_;

On Link's half? If Revali is the bird who is desperate to fly as high as he can, Link is absolutely the trapped, muzzled songbird. There's one scene where the king is scolding Zelda and Link is kneeling beside Zelda, absolutely forgotten by both of them. He's pretty much part of the scenery in that memory. His head is bowed. His face is expressionless. He's disregarded butterly as the king berates Zelda and Zelda focuses on vainly defending herself. That exemplifies so much of his backstory: he's the silent Knight. He's the Wielder of Evil's Bane. He's the guy who effortlessly claimed his destiny by pulling the Master Sword while Zelda struggled fruitlessly to call upon her sacred powers. I would argue (and this isn't a slight against Zelda, who is clearly a traumatized, overburdened, and royal teenager in all of these memories) that when Zelda finally sees Link as an actual person and not just another symbol of her failure, she still struggles to see him as a true individual and not another way for her to deal with and understand her own problems. For most of the characters in those memories, Link is characterized by his role and his duty, not as an actual overburdened teenager himself.

Except Revali, who never shows any indication that he gives a damn about titles and destiny and all of that bullshit, sees Link and wants Link to see him. Revali wants a response. Revali wants Link.

I've also written briefly about this before, but in regards to symbolism, Revali is also the closest in-game parallel to things normally associated with the Heroes of Courage. Courage is Farore green, courage is Farore's Wind. In Skyward Sword, Link rides upon his loftwing, a sacred creature which connects the Hylians to the Goddess. In Wind Waker, well, do I need to say it? The other Champions fit well with Din/Power (Urbosa and Daruk) and Nayru/Wisdom (Zelda and Mipha). Revali? Fits great with Farore/Courage. Revali, who pushes Link and gets so pissed (and hurt) when Link doesn't push back. Revali, who tells Link to watch him as he flies and grows so upset when Link doesn't react to that magical moment at all.

To leave the Great Plateau and begin his journey, Link needs to take a leap of faith and glide through the sky. Link needs the wind. Link needs to fly.

I could keep going for a while, but I think I should stop. lol I've written plenty of meta about these two before, though, so feel free to check out my Revalink tag. Always feel free to ask about these two (and fandom and such in general). I love rambling about them and people IRL tend to look at me like I'm crazy when I begin talking about this stuff. :D

[apollo-ap]

The School of Sinoran. From the ancient language of the Fae, Sinoran means rage. A school of battle, a school of war, a school of hardening. Since ancient times, powerful parents have sent their children to be trained as warriors. Common wanderers come here for strength. Girls from all corners of the world come here for wisdom and knowledge. But this is not just a school. You can't just learn here, it's not easy. You have to survive here. Especially the men. Men come to show their strength and find new strength. Lucien was sent here to die.

Beron had had enough of this reckless young man, the bastard of the Court of Day and his antics. He can't just kill him, so let him die in the wars that swarm the Continent. The sea and miles separate Lucien from home. From beloved mother. From an older brother. "But better that," Lucien thought, "than to be beaten constantly for a wrong look. I can survive here. Beron didn't break me, and I won't be broken here".

Now the young man stood looking up at this huge building. It is north and cold, summer is so rare here, but Lucien does not feel the frost, the fire warms his blood. Tall spires of towers, a wall more suited to siege defense. Who are they defending themselves against? No one in their right mind would attack the School, its graduates are listed as some of the finest warriors. Lucien suddenly felt uneasy. He didn't want to fight. But it was all he had left. Or death. Perhaps she was preferable.

Lucien looked up at the tall carved gates. They were definitely made by a craftsman. A craftsman who possessed magic and knew powerful spells. How else to explain that just looking at the entrance made Lucien's eyes water? Fucking Court of the Day abilities. Spells of restraint, of repulsion.

Suddenly, the monstrous gate opened and a broad-shouldered warrior with a cordial face appeared before the young man. Sharp ears made him look like a high fae, and his dark skin, the way he wore bracelets on his biceps, and the tattoo of a golden dragon wrapped around his wrist indicated that he belonged to the Court of the Day. Interesting.

The stranger's face suddenly twisted. And not surprisingly, probably the expression written on Lucien's face clearly expressed his attitude to everything around him. He was always frowning. Not because of anger, but just so it was arranged facial expressions, but when he smiled the others could go tears from the dazzle of this smile. But that's not the case. Lucien didn't want to smile at all, he was sick of this snow, this long way here, the sea, the ship, and now this guy was standing there smiling as if every day was the best. What an abomination. If he had his dagger with him, Lucien would probably stab either himself or this asshole out of anger. But he didn't have his dagger. Like any other weapon, really. Beron made him leave everything behind. Everything. Perhaps he had hoped that the careless offspring would die on the way to the School, but it was not to be. Lucien may not have been afraid, but he knew how to defend himself perfectly and in any way he could. He loved his life and he was not going to give it away cheaply in the near future.

"My name is Braskar," came a rich, deep voice with a distinct accent, "glad to welcome you to the path to rage, my possible comrade." It was a strange interpretation of the official greeting, but Lucien made an effort to be polite and pulled back his hood with the words:

"I don't need a path to rage, I have enough for everyone."

He heard a gasp of delight. Well, he was gorgeous, but the dust and dirt of the past two weeks of travel, first by ship and then on his own, had spoiled it a bit.

"You," Brascar began, "You're from the Court of Autumn! You are Lucien! I have heard of you. Rumors of your bewitching beauty reach this wilderness as well. Ha, unloved son. Let's see what you can do, boy."

Before he could speak, he found himself pinned to the ground, choking on snow. Lucien was on top of him, clutching his head and growling menacingly. How dare he. His weapon may have been taken from him, but he could just strangle him, couldn't he?

Suddenly, a powerful torrent of force threw them both back.

"I see you have a lot of rage in you, boy," said a quiet voice, but it only made Braskar fall to his knees, whispering apologies. Lucien raised his head and stared at the person who spoke. It was a tall man in a military uniform and shoulder epaulets. "Some big shot here," Lucien thought as bright pink eyes examined him from head to toe. Dark hair, blue in color, strong build, a sword at his belt, and blue claws on his hands. "Is he a natural fae?". Lucien didn't recognize the classification into higher and lower. The inferior ones were natural to him. They were weaker, but don't underestimate them. This one was strong. And not just physically. He reeked of power. The look in his calm eyes did not express anger, but he didn't want to change his mind.

Lucien straightened up and looked him straight in the eye. He doesn't know how to be afraid. They will not see his weakness. He will fight, no matter how much he wants to. He will prove he is worth more than just a handsome seventh son. Beron may have sent him to his death, but Lucien came here for something more important. Knowledge. He will learn.

It was as if his thoughts had been heard:

"My name is Ironil, and I am the chief general of the army of the Sinoran School. I will teach you."

---------

a little sketch, my idea of Lucien's past. Don't judge me harshly. I'm having trouble with the dialogs so far, but I'll get better.

[salaminus]

Rex & Cody and the unclear connection points

Summary:

Rex and Cody recently got Natborns on the ship who are actually civilians and of course they can spawn randomly in the galaxy, not to mention they have some potential for anything that can burn. Time for a briefing

Non-native speaker, pleaser bear with me.

Masterlist

Rex has two headaches. One is called Anakin Skywalker, is practically the same age as him in Natborn years, wields a glowstick and has never landed a ship without it being destroyed. The second is a baby Jedi edition with pointy teeth and an even pointier tongue - small, so small, so inexperienced, so eager to learn, but.... SMALL! And of course it comes after the first headache, Rex never has it easy. There was even a song written about it, 'I like it rough' by Lady Gaga - Rex recently got one of those strange cell phone devices, packed with music from an alien planet, which he listens to while typing reports. And he makes playlists, depending on his mood, the 'Headache' series in gradations from one to four. Playlist Two-three-quarters is currently playing, blaring out of the small device on the metal plate, next to a crooked tower of datapads. Framed in a really picturesque way, a few more are scattered across the plate, always nicely lined up, as straight as possible, because Rex doesn't like clutter.

The only thing that doesn't fit into the picture is the bottle, the liquid in it is dark red, a strange contrast to the other light and dark gray in the cabin, especially as it glows because it illuminates the lamp above the desk. Rex has thrown his legs up on the table - the door is closed, no one can see him like this and that's a good thing - and rubs his temples with one hand before stretching and reaching for the bottle. A very slow movement, as he still has a datapad on his thighs that he doesn't want to drop. The display grins at him, the grooves roll down gently, always at the same regular intervals, spreading a cold blue-white light - because there's nothing there. He hasn't typed a single letter yet, there isn't even a heading because he has deleted it.

Education - inappropriate, doesn't hit the nail on the head, too complicated, raises too many questions. Nici and Jojo - sounds like porn, he'll never save it anywhere where Wolffe can find it and make stupid comments. Natborn operating instructions - See above, this is even worse. Rex must know, he knows his vod'e, even Bly howls with laughter at the title and he wasn't really susceptible to dick jokes. My fourth headache - If a Medic somehow reads this, Redcross will annoy him again. He can actually ignore him, but recently there's a younger brother in the medbay (Kix, because their names are the same length and share a letter, Rex likes him) and he flinches every time he pulls the Medic title, but he does (and Rex doesn't like that).

Cody's problem - Would be lying, it's his own, because OF COURSE they didn't show up on the Negoiator, no, no, no, they showed up on the Resolute. Of course.

For now, Rex puts the bottle on and takes a big swig, even if the alcohol burns his mouth out and brings tears to his eyes - it's the weird stuff his boys have been brewing lately, he urgently needs to do more routine inspections in the barracks, otherwise they'll flood the ship and that won't end well. According to the regulations, alcohol is forbidden on duty, on the ships, on all GAR equipment. Luckily Rex is always on duty. Carousing assholes. A little absently, he shakes the bottle gently in his hand, listens to the clear liquid gurgling, then places it on the edge of the table next to his ankle. What a risk, what a danger, he of all people, the rule-abiding captain, rebels in his old age, becomes careless, not at all Cody's little nerd. Kriffin' hell. If Fox knew that, his eyes would pop out. Speaking of Fox. Rex grabs the right-hand datapad - his own, he can even feel it through his gloves, every groove on it, the light scratches. The painted Jaig Eyes, he can't, although there's even a second pair of them by now (If he already has a Natborn who is gifted at drawing who's getting on his nerves, he might as well use that, to the prime with you, Kote!)

The commander chat is empty, no new messages after the last flood of fraternal insults, Rex has to tap the arrow key a little until the chat with Fox pops up. He hasn't read the last twenty messages either (he probably doesn't even know how to do that), not that it would stop Rex from sending him another stupid holonet picture. At the same moment, the name at the top of the chat gets fat - WhatdoestheFoxsay - He says get karked is ONLINE. What's going on here? Rex is about to send him a middle finger when the door next to him shoots open- "Fuck you, Cody, you're late." He is, way late, probably his stupid ori'vod was banking on Rex already having this thing ready. Uhh, I'm marshal commander, Rex, the responsibilities, you have to understand me... Yeah, no. On principle, Cody isn't looked at, at least until the commander leans over Rex's feet and grunts as he grabs the bottle Rex confiscated for himself. "Get your own booze, what do you have Ghost for!" "Get your feet off the table, you rag." First stealing alcohol and then getting cheeky, that's what Rex likes. Cody should know better, of all people he knows how Rex deals with this sort of thing and yet he drinks far too relaxed - at least until Rex elbows him in the stomach. Cody gasps, tears his eyes open, actually spits booze, goes down on his knees for a millisecond - ever so slightly, but Rex has seen it and can't help but laugh. "Where's your cover, what's wrong with you?" Very slowly, Cody raises the hand he's holding the bottle in, wipes the back of his hand as he stares at Rex, the semi-evil Cody look Jojo likes to call "Sauron himself". Whoever that is, the image of a glowing red eye on a tower presented to him didn't help much - speaking of Jojo. The problem part one, the reason Rex is sitting here, and Cody should be here, but he's a nasty Hutt and is, once again, late. However, Cody is of the opinion to remind Rex of his marshall commander rank, he fixes Rex again without blinking, the head slightly tilted. "Are you getting cheeky, vod'ika?" There were times when Rex was really a bit scared of him. He was three then, now he's twelve, soon to be thirteen - which Cody seems to like to forget, as well as that they have the same training, only Rex, because he was planned as a CT, didn't become a commander and won't be because his Jedi has a Padawan. Because Rex only folds his arms behind his head and smiles compassionately at his ori'vod, Cody bares his teeth for half a second. "Oh, you asked for it, karking little shit...!"

And then he leaps forward, throwing himself at Rex with all his weight before Rex can get the blaster out of the holster. "You don't stun me, don't stun me, Rexi!" He's totally going to do that, Cody will see, for now they roll around on the ground, trying to pin each other, before Cody goes limp all at once and just stays on Rex's chest like he's a pillow. "I'm getting too old for this shit, why did I train you again..." So that they can now both sit side by side in front of Rex's bunk, legs stretched out, the questionable bottle between them. It's half empty by now, Cody's eyes are glassy, Rex's own are certainly glassy too, but he can't see that. However, he can already see his vo'd, who has rested his head on Rex's leg and is scratching the bridge of his nose, just like the datapad in Cody's hand.

"Karking hell, of course we get that kind of shit and nobody else does. Can't even Ponds get kriff like that? Or Wolffe, the big bad Wolffe on a rescue mission, he knows a thing or two about civilians - we absolutely won't ask him, Rex. Never. You might, but I will not." No, Rex won't either, it's enough that the Commander calls him a puppy, no matter how many times he punches him in the face. Some things just never change, especially with Wolffe, the imperfect commander in the marshal patch. All of his batchmates - Cody, Fox, Bly - they all became marshals, except Wolffe.

Because Wolffe didn't want to. In short, if Rex asks Wolffe for help because he has two karking Natborns on his ship that the Jedi don't know exactly what to do with, he'll laugh at him, just laugh hysterically into the com, before pushing him away, guaranteed with a comment like "You wanted to join us, CT!". Rex doesn't like that (just like when the medics pull rank, but he's more likely to let Kix take care of him than ask his ori'vode for help with Nici and Jojo). Because Rex doesn't answer anything, at least not vocally, he snorts once too loudly, which makes Cody grin wickedly before his favorite brother shakes his head. His hair scrapes over the plastoid under his head, Cody reaches out for the bottle and yawns without covering his mouth. "I could ask Bly. Emphasis on could, I'm sure he already knows what's going on with us anyway. After all, his Jedi is also on the Council and she tells him too much anyway. I'm actually surprised that nothing has come-" Rex's datapad beeps, the display lights up and reports a message on priority mode in the command chat. He sticks his finger in Cody's ear. "You've jinxed it!" Unfortunately, it's Cody, who stares Rex in the eye and doesn't even react, even though Rex put his finger in his mouth beforehand. Cody's nose twitches for half a second, though, making Rex curl his lips into a grin, before he leaves Cody's ear and grabs his datapad.

BLYla REX BLYla REX REX REX BLYla REXxxxxxxx WhatdoestheFoxsay - He says get karked Shut up BLYla Rude. REEEEEX. Cody BLYla Then this way @WOLFFE . Rex and Cody have kids! NeYO is online NeYO Nova asks for more information, which ARCs are there this time BLYla has sent a picture. A blonde young woman with curls pokes Ki-Adi-Mundi through the eye, another dark-haired one looks fierce enough that Wolffe would be proud BLYla Something to say? Bacara Mood. BLYla Not you! Bacara Shameless slut Wolffe is online. Wolffe has sent a picture. WHO. IS. THAT.

That's a problem for someone else. Rex has work to do. He has to finish writing a report. Regrettably, his Ori'vod is a marshal and he needs to read the chat, especially messages sent in priority mode. Cody clicks on the chat without comment and immediately disconnects before the pad can show his status as online.

Ponds is online. Commander Cody, I can see the activity log. Anything to say to the matter?

"No," Cody grumbles against Rex's leg, rolling onto his other side. "I don't want to. I'm drunk - We finish this fucking file now and send the thing, then we're out and all the other shebse shut the fuck up. Great idea, very good, let's do it, so come on, old boy. Rex, type something." Funny, hilarious, but Rex dutifully takes the datapad - and waits. Connection points in  orders need to be clarified, so let Cody do it, because he should know best.

So far, he's just staring at the ceiling, his own datapad pushed far away from him towards the door so that he doesn't see the flashing of new messages. "Let's start with... We'll just make a list. Bullet point one: Keep away from anything flammable. Bar two: Humor is good, but inappropriate, a gag is recommended. Bullet point three: Will not die immediately in blaster fire. Follow orders, nevertheless clarify rank beforehand. Mirror line four: Mirror line four: They offer cookies if they want to apologize. Cookies are very tasty. Dash Six: Unrecognizable in the Force, the Jedi disagree on how to proceed. Until then, categorized as... Natborn in clone training. Mirror Stitch Seven: Further testing and training required. Mirror Stitch Seven and a half: Deal with it, shebse - You know what, Rexi? Who do these two actually belong to, as whom did your idiot of a general save them?" In the system, Cody says in the GAR system, they have to be listed, because Rex will start a rampage if his battalion gets less food because of Natborns. "Information person, but with the wrong form. He took the one for contact-persons." All at once, Cody jerks up vertically - he's grinning ear to ear, a real Kote-grin. Damn, did Rex miss that, they've been getting fewer and fewer since the war started, the last one was a long time ago, so karking long ago...

"Contact-persons, yes? Very well. The 501st is ultimately under the command of the Seventh Air Force Corps, in other words under my command. I just happen to be responsible for their training and development. Coincidentally. You suggest people as ARCs and I sign off on it, of course, that's how it works. So the Natborns are formally mine and not outside Jedi? They're part of the GAR, though never officially joined, of course not, because contact-persons, thank heavens for Skywalker's lack of competence...!"

Two minutes later, Rex is typing on a training form for continuing education whereas Cody is just laughing. He's still chuckling even when their request is confirmed and Kamino announces that they're expecting and scheduling the three of them to arrive in three standard weeks.

[alizha]

𝑰 𝑭𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝑯𝒆𝒍𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒍𝒚 𝑭𝒐𝒓 𝒀𝒐𝒖 | 𝒁𝒆𝒌𝒆 𝒀𝒆𝒂𝒈𝒆𝒓 𝒙 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 | 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝟔

Rating: M Word Count: 5.3k Tags: reader has a name but is not described, childhood friends, zeke yeager being an asshole, brief descriptions of war, musings on mortality, dub-con (zeke being pushy), dom/sub dynamics, impact play, mild degradation, face-sitting, fingering, blink-and-you'll-miss-it breath play, praise kink, rough sex, unprotected penetrative sex, choking, multiple orgasms

Summary: After nearly ten years, Zeke Yeager reconnects with you, an Eldian doctor assigned as his psychiatrist. As children, you were out of reach—two years older and the object of a youthful crush. Then, he became a Warrior, and the dynamic shifted. Now, as you navigate the complexities of your new professional relationship, where do you stand? Who holds the power in this tug of war?

previous chapter | next chapter | masterlist | cross posted to ao3

Chapter 6: Stella

➴➴➴

Now

The war lasts another three years, and it’s amazing how much things change when the brass realizes they’re losing too many of their Eldian forces. Suddenly, they have to be selective about their fodder, about when to throw them into the line of fire and when to employ more strategic tactics. As for you and the other medics, you’re being worked to the bone making sure to preserve the soldiers they have left, and being kept as far away from the front lines as possible while still being accessible.

You’re at the camp outside Fort Slava when the Warrior unit’s aerial assault finally wins the war for Marley. Command waste no time moving their forces into the port city before the dust even settles. It’s a beautiful place, even half-smashed to bits from the fighting, with distinctive architecture and eastern flair. Hints of a culture that once occupied this place.

The upside is that the facilities are an upgrade, and you’ll all be shipped back to Liberio soon. You’re about to finish a shift at the infirmary as you make your way toward a quieter wing of the building, where the Warriors have been assigned rooms. You haven’t seen much of Zeke or the others in the past few months of brutal fighting, only crossing paths fleetingly in the haze of battle and the exhausted shuffle of reassignments.

The thought crosses your mind briefly as your boots click softly against the stone floor. Where is Zeke now in this massive, winding place? But you push it aside and focus on your patients instead.

Reiner lays stretched out on his cot, his massive frame taking up most of the space, while Galliard sits nearby at the desk by the window. You knock to announce yourself and approach quietly, noting Reiner’s face, still a little smudged and slightly more gaunt than you’d like to see. He looks almost peaceful, his usually tense features slack in rest.

“Still hasn’t woken up?” you ask Galliard.

“Nope,” he says, shooting you a sidelong glance. “Been sleeping like a log since he was brought in. He’s twitched a few times, though, so I guess he’s dreaming.”

He sounds like he couldn’t be more unbothered, and you hum thoughtfully. Titan-shifters have a strange way of dealing with wounds and fatigue. For Reiner to sleep this deeply, well, it doesn’t worry you too much. Though, it says something about the toll this war has taken on him. On all of them.

“Considering what he went through, I’d say the vice captain’s earned his rest,” you say softly, folding your arms.

Reiner’s young, almost fully a decade younger than you, but these past years have made them all feel so much older. While you’re not too worried about his physical well-being, you can’t help but feel bad for the psychiatrist working his case.

“Well, that’s all I needed to check. I’m sure he’ll be up and moving before they ship us back. Make sure he eats something when he wakes up.”

Galliard gives a curt nod. “Yeah, I’ll tell him.”

He doesn’t look up as you turn to leave, moving out the door and down the stone hallway. You glance briefly through the open doors, at other cots where injured soldiers slept or shift restlessly. Many of the uninjured soldiers have left to celebrate in town, but you don’t feel much pull to join them. You’re too tired from working through the night.

When you reach the washroom and step into the cramped shower, the freezing cold water feels like bliss. The grime and the blood of the past few days swirls away down the drain, and your muscles ache as you scrub your skin raw. Once you’ve emerged, towel-dried and in a fresh uniform, you feel a bit more human again.

As you make your way toward the mess hall, you nearly collideswith Zeke in the corridor, and for a brief moment, you freeze. Images of him in his Titan form, towering and bestial, his massive fists hurling rubble into the enemy’s fleet with a terrifying force, flash through your mind. You’d recognized that pitch—he threw those rocks with the same precision he’d once thrown baseballs, a detail that almost feels surreal. Now, here he is in his human form, looking just as worn and exhausted as the rest of them.

“Doctor,” he says, his eyes lighting up behind his glasses, blasé as ever like he’s completely disconnected from the devastation he wrought less than twenty-four hours ago.

“Captain Yeager,” you reply, feeling a surprising wave of comfort nonetheless at the sight of him.

He gestures toward the mess. “Was just about to grab something to eat.”

“Same here.”

You walk in together without speaking. The hall is nearly empty, so you grab your rations in silence, and you follow as Zeke leads you up a set of stairs to the storage attic. You settle on a couple crates by the wide window, unwrapping your food. The sunlight streaming in illuminates the motes of dust dancing lazily in the air. Outside and below, the harbor is still strewn with the wreckage of the enemy fleet, hulking ships half-sunken and twisted from Zeke’s barrage.

“So,” you start at length, eager for a break from thinking about the endless procession of wounded soldiers in the medical ward, “how are things going?”

Zeke shrugs, picking at a stale chunk of bread. “Just steeling myself for my meeting with the brass. I can already hear the lecture about ‘precision’ and ‘calculated risk’.”

You watch his face carefully as he gazes distantly out over the water, and the concern comes through despite yourself. You just can’t help it. “Are you… alright? Have you been sleeping?”

For a moment, he looks at you as if you’ve touched on a tender nerve. He’d told you that the loss of two of Nine would have consequences, and you know he blames himself in some part for that failure. But then, he smirks, a mocking edge to his tone.

“Going into doctor mode on me already? Maybe we should take this somewhere somewhere with a sofa to lie in, get the full psychiatric experience.”

“Not a chance,” you shoot back. “This isn’t the internment zone. Too many scrutinizing eyes.”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Yeah, well, I don’t need the checkup, Doctor. And I’m fine.”

You press your lips together and breathes in a lungful of the attic’s dusty air, seeing beyond the nonchalance he wears like armor. Zeke might act like he’s ready for anything, but you know it’s a front. It has to be, because you feel like you’re going to break every time you think of the clock running down his time as the Beast Titan.

“Fine?” you echo. “Zeke, you’re down to your last year, and you’ve already got an inheritor lined up.”

“What, Stella? Getting sentimental on me now?” he says with a small, wry laugh.

Maybe he thinks you’ll just let it go, brush it off, but the thought of losing him feels raw. It’s something you’ve been trying, and failing, to come to terms with since you were teenagers.

“Zeke, I never really—,” you cut yourself off, uncertain if your voice will hold up under the weight of the truth. “I’ve cared about you since we were kids, and I don’t think I ever really let that go.”

You turn away, almost hoping that if you don’t meet his eyes that maybe he won’t have heard your words. But when he doesn’t say anything for a long moment, you glance back at him. Zeke’s staring at you, looking almost as if you’ve shocked him. Like he hadn’t expected you to say something like that out loud.

But then, he sighs. “Stella, I already know what I’m doing with my final year.” He gazes out the window and over the horizon, face grim with resolve. “I’m gonna appeal to the brass to resume the Paradis Operation. I’m getting the Founding Titan back.”

He says it with a practiced decisiveness, like it’s part of the speech he’s planning to give at his meeting. You feel your heart drop like a lead weight into your stomach as you stare at him in disbelief. He’s a hypocrite. Anger flares in your chest.

“Are you serious?” you scoff. “You pitied the Scouts of Paradis during our sessions. You said they were throwing their lives away, that they were fools for spending their precious years fighting instead of being with the people they love. How is what you’re doing any different?”

Zeke’s eyes narrow, and for a second, you think he’s just going to bring down that wall of nonchalance between you. But then, he turns fully to face you, the morning sun haloing his pale hair in gold.

“It’s different because my efforts won’t be futile, Stella. The Scouts fight for something they’ll never reach, a freedom that’s just unattainable. But me? This isn’t pointless. I can end it. If I get the Founding Titan, it changes everything .”

You stand and cross your arms across the pain twisting in your chest. “So, that’s it, then? You’re going to spend what little time you have left on that island. And I’m just gonna have to sit here and watch it happen.”

He stays quiet for a while, gaze softening. “I didn’t expect…,” he stops and lets out a rueful laugh, “Truth is, I never really got over you either.”

Your eyes snap to his, lips parting. When he gets to his feet and reaches out to touch his fingers to your chin, you feel like your heart is going to leap out of your throat. Your first instinct is to dart your gaze around, make sure no one’s looking, but it’s pointless. You’re alone with him, tucked away in the storage attic above the mess hall, and it’s hard to look away from the stormy depths of his eyes.

“When I put in that request for you to be my psychiatrist, I told myself it was just a strategy. Cover my ass and all that,” he says. “Then, I told myself it was to get one up over you, the girl who got away. I wanted to beat you. To win, by finally having you. But maybe, what I wanted was more selfish than that.”

His words hit you like a physical blow, and you flinch away from his touch. Your throat tightens, anger mixing with a longing you’d buried long ago.

“Fucking bastard,” you hiss. “You pushed me away. You made this bed. Now, you don’t have the balls to lie in it.”

“Maybe,” he admits, stepping a little closer, crowding you into the stack of crates and sacks behind you. “Or maybe I didn’t know what I wanted until now.”

“Don’t,” you say sharply, holding up one hand to halt his advance. You can barely look at him. “You haven’t won, asshole. You don’t have me, and you never will.”

“Don’t I?” he says, taking you by the wrist.

Your stomach turns, not unpleasantly, and you grimace at the unwanted shiver running along your spine. You lift your other hand, intent on cracking your knuckles across his infuriatingly high cheekbone. But at the last moment, you open your palm and slap him instead, the resulting clap resonating through the otherwise quiet attic.

Zeke’s head snaps to the side when your blow lands, his cheek immediately burning bright red. You exhale sharply, palm tingling. When he looks back at you, his eyes are dark, and his fingers tighten around your wrist. You bite back a cry and try to yank yourself out of his grasp.

“Again,” he demands, jerking you closer instead. “Do it again.”

Desire pools between your legs, warmth flooding your face. You stop struggling, repulsion and arousal warring in equal measure inside you, and push your hips into his. Zeke’s eyes flutter closed at the slow grind, and just as he starts to let out a quiet moan, you raise your hand and slap him again.

“Fuck,” he groans, grasping your ass and pressing you even harder together.

His cock is already startlingly hard against your abdomen. It’s like you’re on fire, your body hot and fluttering as you reach around the back of his head to crush your lips to his. At that, Zeke finally lets go of your aching wrist to seize you by the nape and delve his tongue into your mouth.

You kiss him bruisingly, hungrily, mashing your hips together to rub against his steel-hard length through the barrier of your uniforms. Adrenaline courses through your veins, imploring you to take out this newfound aggression on Zeke and his maddeningly smug face. With a strength you didn’t know you had, you drive him backward and slam him into the wall.

Zeke lets out a groan against your mouth that sounds so pleased and satisfied that it stokes the flames of irritation licking at your belly. You kiss him harder, all traces of finesse lost, and start shoving off his jacket. He helps, shrugging the garment off and moving to unclasp your collar, but you smack his hand away.

“You’re enjoying this too much,” you say breathlessly when his eyes glaze over for a second.

“Can you blame me?” he chuckles, reaching for your belt.

With a noise of annoyance, you shove his hands away again. “Take your cock you, you arrogant prick.”

You step away, and he moves instantly, with purpose, unbuckling his belt and shoving the flaps of his trousers out of the way. At the same time, you jerk your boots off one at a time and set to work on your fresh uniform. Zeke’s length springs free as you’re kicking your underwear and trousers completely off, bare from the hips down.

“On your back,” you say, jabbing a finger at the ground.

Eagerly, he lowers himself down and settles on his back, his dick proudly standing at attention, flushed and thick. But you neglect it altogether, kneeling with your shins on either side of his head and reaching back to take hold of his hands. You gaze down at him as you weave your fingers together.

Zeke keeps his eyes on your as he turns his head, beard brushing softly against your skin. He kisses the expanse of your inner thigh, anywhere his mouth can reach, and you twitch and tremble above him. You can already feel him squirming slightly beneath you, but he doesn’t protest as you remove his glasses and set them aside.

“Stel—,”

He cuts off with a muffled groan when you lower yourself down, pressing your cunt to his mouth.

“Shut up, Zeke,” you breathe, rocking once against him.

His fingers tighten around yours as he sticks out his tongue, holding it firmly broad and flat for you. You sigh contentedly and start to ride him, tossing your head back. Each stroke against the searing heat of his mouth sends a pulse of sizzling pleasure straight through your core. When he starts to strain against your hold, you lift up, just enough to let him gasp for air.

Zeke moans as his tongue finds your clit, so you hold yourself up and let him work. He laps at you, and it feels so unreal. In the past three years, there’s been no time for anything but your own fingers, stumbling in the dark, trying to keep as still and quiet as you can as you bring yourself to pleasure. And before that, in the month spent with Zeke in the trenches, you’d both been constantly filthy and pressed for time that you’d skipped over any of the delicious lead up.

Behind you, you can feel his hips bucking. His cock must be aching for attention, but he makes no indication of it with how focused he is on licking you. His nose brushes against you as he alternates passes of his tongue over your clit and dizzying swirls. You let go of his hands to rake back his hair, and fuck , he looks so good like this.

No wiry little glasses obscuring his eyes, no scruffy beard in view. Zeke looks almost like the way she remembered from years ago, if a little older. But he’s still handsome with the hollows at his cheeks and the lines under his eyes. He’s blinking up at you, gaze half-lidded, moaning softly with each breath that sends a new spark of pleasure deep inside.

With his hands free, he moves one to palm at your ass and the other to your cunt. There’s pressure, circling and light, and then he’s slipping two fingers inside, curling right away to search for the spot that’ll make you quiver. His eyes practically shine when your whole body jolts.

“ Oh —right there.”

He zeroes in, winding you up tighter and tighter with each pass of his fingertips and tongue. You grip his hair a little harder, and Zeke shivers in response, gazing up at you almost pleadingly, like he needs to feel more .

“I know,” you murmur soothingly, starting to roll your hips against him again. “But you’re doing so well.”

His fingers ramp up faster, curling with each thrust into that spot that stokes the flames as he sucks your swollen clit between his lips. With one last tilt of your hips, chasing that peak, you break apart, crying out into the crook of your arm. Zeke watches raptly from below as you whimper and shake, apparently unbothered by the tight squeeze of your thighs on either side of him.

“Fuck, Doc,” he groans as you lift up onto your knees once your legs have stopped their trembling.

You shuffle down his body, eyeing the shine on his beard that he wipes away with the back of his hand. When you settle straddled over his thighs and take his cock in hand, he gasps. He’s already leaking from the tip, a thin line of pearly liquid dripping down over the crown and onto his throbbing length.

“Did you like me slapping you around that much?” you scoff, swiping your thumb up the wet trail and using it to spread over his shaft. “I should leave you right here, needy and desperate, and let you take care of this yourself.”

“Oh, c’mon, Doc,” Zeke half-chuckles and half-murmurs, his voice coming out strangled. “You wouldn’t be so cruel.”

“No?” you say, giving a firm roll of your fist down his length and drawing a choked-out noise from him. “Why don’t you show me how much you want it, then?”

“Tell me what to do,” he pleads.

He tries to thrust into your hand, but you release him and slap him across his faded-red cheek, a little softer this time. Zeke’s mouth falls open with a low moan, and his cock twitches between you.

“Stop me,” you say. “If you want it, stop me, or I’ll leave.”

You start to push yourself up, but Zeke reacts immediately. In a flash, you’re on your back, the air knocked out of your lungs with the impact on the floorboards. He leans over you and widens the stance of his knees, spreading open your legs slung over his thighs and around his hips.

“Shit,” you gasp, scrabbling to prop yourself up on your forearms, but Zeke grasps your wrists and pins them above your head.

“Convincing enough?” he asks with a smirk, shifting his grip on you so he can hold you with one hand and drift the other one down the length of your torso.

You squirm against him, attempting to wiggle away. He grinds his stiff cock into your clit, and you arch with a gasp, a fresh bolt of arousal ricocheting through you. His hand finds his length and angles it just right to seat himself inside you.

It’s a stretch that could have been an overwhelming burn after so long going without, if you hadn’t been so thoroughly prepared by his mouth. You’re not expecting him to move the way he does when he starts, but it sparks a deep, twisting pleasure deep inside that meets that exact same spot he was able to reach with his fingers, dead on.

Zeke sits up, apparently satisfied that you’re not going anywhere now, and grips your hips for better leverage. You reach for him, clutching and clawing wherever you can reach—his arms, his chest—but you can’t leave the angry red welts in his skin you want to because he’s still in his shirt. Your toes are curling as you try to choke back your cries at the sensation. He’s moving slow, but there’s nowhere to shy away from how directly he’s hitting you.

“Fuck,” you whine as everything narrows down to the point where you’re connected, pure fire burning white hot at your center. “Oh, fuck— Zeke —,”

He murmurs a string of gentle praise and your name, even as each calculated, deliberate thrust blurs the edges of your vision. You’re about to try again, but he’s one step ahead, curling his hand around your neck. It would be embarrassing how desperately your cunt clamps down around him when he applies pressure to either side of your throat, if it wasn’t Zeke.

And it’s then that you realize how fucked you are. You’re in deep, fallen for the captain of the Warrior unit, a man with little more than a year to live. You don’t even know the breadth of his sins, long lost track of the wounds and scars he’s collected along the way. It’s entirely irrational and so fiercely lodged between your ribs there’s no hope of tearing it out.

Before you know it, the wave of pleasure is cresting again. Legs shaking, you arch and strain against the hand at your neck, holding you steady. Zeke’s rhythm slows but doesn’t stop as you melt into a gasping, writhing mess.

His jaw drops into a soft moan as his gaze burns into yours, the storm gray of his eyes shoved to the very edges by pupils blown wide. This is Zeke—he doesn’t suffer this kind of vulnerability, but here he is anyway, desire laid bare. Desire for you . For your eyes only.

The grip around your neck loosens, pulls away altogether as he curls over you to brush his lips against yours. There’s a lingering taste on his tongue you know belongs to you as he deepens the kiss. The slow roll of his hips eases you down from your second climax without being too overwhelming, and it’s so fucking considerate, your heart feels like it’s going to burst.

“You okay?” he asks.

You’re so far from okay, torn between wanting to flee this instant and wanting the moment to last forever, but instead, you just murmur, “I’m okay.”

He nods and leans up, hooks his arm under your knee. You whine at the change in angle as he holds you open for him. Zeke doesn’t change his pace at first, languidly thrusting into you a little deeper, no longer entirely focused on that precision he had before. His fingertips brush softly against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, and you twitch under his touch.

The heat of him is delicious, hard and thick against your walls. That slick fiction is almost enough to make up for the unhurried tempo. It seems to go on forever until you feel the twinge of frustration starting to build up inside you.

“More,” you demand, but it comes out more like a beg. “Please.”

Zeke must be enjoying your exasperation because he doesn’t change a thing. It’s not until you’re canting your hips, rising up to furiously meet each of his thrusts that he throws your leg over his shoulder and starts to snap his hips faster.

“Fucking hell,” he groans, turning to speak into the side of your knee. “You feel so good. So good for me— shit —take me so well. You’re incredible.”

His thumb catches at your clit and circles, and it’s all you can do not to wail. Your muscles are sore from riding him and tensing around two previous orgasms, but all that teasing has you coiled up tight again and desperate for release. It’s in Zeke’s hands now—you’re too tired to chase another end, even if it’s just out of reach. All that’s left is to surrender as his cock and his fingers work you.

He’s striking the flint with every thrust, each pass sparking up between your legs but refusing to catch. Until finally, the fire ignites into roaring flames that ripple out and engulf you whole, and you’re coming for a third time with a ragged moan. Zeke gives one last long thrust and stills deep inside you as your walls flutter around his cock, shuddering with his release.

He slumps with a gasp and presses his mouth to your temple. Then, he’s pulling out carefully and collapsing onto the floor beside you as he catches his breath. You wince as you roll over to half-drape yourself across his chest, suddenly realizing you’re going to be sore for a while. Zeke’s arm wraps itself around you almost unconsciously.

His glasses are just within reach, and you grab them. They fog a little when you settle them carefully on the bridge of his nose.

“You can’t go to your meeting like this,” you say flippantly.

“No,” he agrees, huffing out a laugh. He turns slightly to meet your gaze, and the bags under his eyes jump out at you. “You still mad?”

“You still would rather spend your last year chasing the Founder than with me?”

You know it’s not as simple as that, but you say it anyway. Zeke shrugs weakly and splays his fingers on your back. It’s useless. You already know he’s not going to apologize.

“There’s something more, isn’t there? Something you’re not telling me,” you say when he doesn’t answer. “Some reason why this is so important to you. And it’s not your stupid pride.”

He sighs and sits up with a grunt, easing you upright with him. His hands make quick work of tucking himself back into his trousers while you’re reaching for your own clothes. Holding off on his jacket, he helps you to your feet and offers a steadying arm while you pull on your boots back on.

“I’ll tell you the rest, Stella,” he says, regret shadowing his expression as he bends to pick up the white jacket, dusting it off. “All of it. I’ll tell you when we get back to Liberio. If you want to hear it.”

Your mind races, trying to piece together his meaning. The only certainty you land on is that you’re standing on the edge of something unknowable. “What do you mean?”

Zeke slips the jacket back on smoothly and shakes his head as he adjusts the collar. “Not here. You have to be patient,” he says. “Take care of yourself, Doc. I’ll see you back home.”

And then, he’s gone, leaving you alone with your questions and a new ache in your heart.

➴➴➴

Then

You adjust the basket on your hip, glancing up at the dimming sky as you hurry along the quiet street. The village is draped in the warm tones of dusk, your favorite time of day for a walk and the reason why you’d volunteered to run errands for your mother. It feels good to be back after months spent in the internment zone in Hesse after the work it takes to gain special travel permission.

You’ve been home a few days already, and you haven’t seen Zeke at all in that time, despite running into his grandfather at the clinic. In fact, you’re beginning to wonder if Dr. Yeager’s passed on the message that you’re back at all. But then, as if on cue, you spot him across the street, his familiar pale blond head tilted down as he adjusts the collar of his coat.

Your heart leaps, and before you can stop yourself, you’re calling out to him. “Zeke!”

He looks up, brows lifting in surprise as he spots you. It’s the only shred of emotion he spares you, however, and his expression quickly slips back to neutral. He nods as you jog over, carefully holding the lid of your basket closed.

“Stella,” he greets with a reserved smile. He looks different. Not just the new glasses perched on his nose or the red armband adorning his sleeve, but the way he holds himself.

You can’t help but be glad to see him, though. Perhaps, he’ll always have that effect on you.

“Congratulations,” you say with a grin, nudging him softly. “The Beast Titan, huh? That’s huge.”

Zeke shrugs, pushing his glasses up his nose. There’s the barest hint of bashfulness in the gesture. “Thanks.”

His gaze drifts past you, lingering somewhere over your shoulder. You catch your bottom lip between your teeth, unsure of how to proceed. Maybe you’d been presumptuous, approaching him so casually.

“So, I’ve been back for a few days now. Did your grandfather mention? I thought maybe you’d come by the house, or… I don’t know, write? Not even a ‘welcome back’?” you say hesitantly.

Zeke stiffens a little, and his reply comes a little clipped. “I’ve been busy. Not much time for things.”

“I see,” you say, looking down briefly at the basket in your hands. Your stomach clenches, but you force yourself to smile. “Surely even Warriors get a break now and then. Don’t tell me they’ve made you too important to catch up with old friends?”

You keep your tone playful and teasing, but Zeke’s expression doesn’t crack.

“I appreciate the invitation,” he says, and it sounds like something he’d say to a stranger on the street. His eyes keep drifting, as if he’s looking for an escape.

“Right.” You clear your throat. “I’ll be in town a few more days. So, if you find yourself with a free moment, well, you know where to find me.”

Zeke nods, his hands shoved deep in his pockets, and you know with a sinking certainty that he has no intention of dropping by. “Sure.”

It’s silly, really. You should have known that things have irrevocably shifted. Zeke’s not the same boy who used to follow you around with stars in his eyes, and you feel guilty—ashamed, even—that you want him to stay the same.

You’re still recovering from the sting of his detachment when you catch sight of a girl approaching from down the street. She's pretty, wearing a skirt with demure white stockings, and her pace slows when her gaze meets Zeke’s. A tentative smile lights up her face as she waves, clearly waiting for him. It doesn’t take long for you to realize that this was who his gaze has been searching for, drifting toward, all along.

Zeke steps toward her and tells her softly, “Go on ahead.”

The girl glances at you briefly, then back at Zeke, a faint blush coloring her cheeks as she slips past the two of you. You clench the handle of your basket as her footsteps fade down the path.

“Friend of yours?” you ask, in what you hope is a light tone.

“Something like that,” Zeke says, raising an eyebrow at you. There’s a hint of disinterest in his voice, though, like he’s already dismissed the pretty girl from his thoughts. “She’s… convenient, I guess.”

“Convenient?” Your heart sinks as you let out a weak laugh. “Well, don’t go getting too attached, now.”

Zeke offers a half-hearted shrug, clearly unbothered. “Doesn’t really matter. It’s nothing serious. Just something to pass the time.”

You look away and force down the lump forming in your throat, to act as though you haven’t just been snubbed in favor of someone Zeke views as little more than a temporary distraction. “Well, I’d hate to keep you from your plans. You should know better than to make your dates wait on you, Zeke Yeager. So go on, don’t let me make you late.”

He nods, hardly sparing you a second glance. “Yeah, I should probably get going.”

Without saying goodbye, he heads off in the direction the girl had gone. You stand there, clutching your basket, staring after him until his figure disappears into the distance.

[hekateinhell]

I just need to get something off my chest real quick, there's really no need to read this unless you want to because you're bored lmao.

So I used to be really good at answering the asks I got. I wouldn't say I answered all of them, but I think overall I had a good ratio for a long time! And I loved it! I think the asks feature is the best thing that tumblr has to offer as a social media platform (god knows just about everything else sucks).

I loved getting asks and answering them and it's a great way to talk to others in our little fandom bubbles and trade thoughts and insights with one another. My mental health did take quite a few hits in the past several months, and part of that was real life (school, sickness, death in the family) and part of that was bullshit fandom drama.

But it just occurred to me yesterday that the reason I'm nowhere near as prolific in answering the asks I get is because I have always put so much effort into putting disclaimers behind all my meta, walking on eggshells so people won't throw tantrums every time I share an opinion they don't like.

And you know what? That just made me an nervous, erratic person afraid of her own tumblr shadow. The thought of having to do all the work to put ten thousand disclaimers behind everything I say so some asshole won't vague me because I accidentally hurt their feelings just made me not want to reply to anything at all. It's fucking exhausting having to think of every scenario in which people might interpret whatever you're saying (about fictional characters may I remind you) in the worst light possible.

In the end all that time and effort I put into censoring myself—because I try to be a nice person, I don't want anyone to feel bad because of me, regardless of the fact that that's been never my intention—in the end none of that mattered! There's people that have been vaguing me for almost two years now and it's not like I go seeking out this information but it's a small fandom and I stumble over it on another blog or some shit every once in a while.

Agonizing over whether or not some random is going to interpret everything I say in the worst possible faith and have a fit on main about my shit takes and make a block list of people who interact with my posts is just so stupid honestly, and trying to censor myself didn't do me a shred of good. People still regularly call me names and insult my intelligence because of the characters I ship, the meta I write, and the kinks I enjoy talking about. It doesn't even matter if I've been active recently or not, they're still mad about stuff I said ages ago! I can't win!

So from now on I'm just to do my best to break this depressing old habit and be online without being apologetic and diminishing my own opinions, answer asks however the hell I want without feeling obligated to coddle a bunch of grown ass adults, and if people want to cry about it, there's a box of tissues in the corner. Go nuts. ♥️