#also for the record most of his other wake-up events are great too!

[my-current-obsession]

Who has the best wake-up event and why is it Kagetsu’s C2.

[anonzentimes]

hi zen!! my friends and i are doing a powerpoint night this monday and like any self-respecting person almost 7 months deep in a dangan hyperfixation (i'm never getting out of here) i am using it as a platform for an all-encompassing kmhn infodump. this powerpoint is going to be the komahina bible and i want to hit Every Stop. i will grab everything i can find. no hesitation. however !! the danganronpa franchise is A Lot. so there's always a chance i will miss something. so! as a fellow kmhn understander and enthusiast, is there any particular Komahina Moment or piece of analysis you feel people often miss or overlook? could be big or small, or involve just one of the two of them, but i'd appreciate the input! <3 have a good one :D

OH MY GOD??? I’LL TRY TO ANSWER IN TIME FOR YOUR POWERPOINT LMAO THAT SOUNDS AWESOME?????? You should record it! Well, you probably will, but I’m still saying it anyways just in case you aren’t, because something that fun going unrecorded sounds like a tragedy!

I’ve had ideas of doing all encompassing komahina rambles for a video or something, but I’m already working on other projects so It’ll be a long time before I even try lmao. Makes me happy someone is trying something similar, and with friends no less! I’d be happy to help in any way I can, I hope you and your friends have fun! :D

ANYWAYS. I’ll say a huge ramble of Komahina things and hope it helps LOL.

This is more of a silly statement, but for a FULL Komahina coverage I think it’s most satisfying to cover the different flavors of komahina, if that makes sense? Like, depending on what approach you’re taking you may not cover kamukoma, since to a degree that’s an entirely different ship, but you’d still cover the canon adjacent other flavors. Basically, try including the canon adjacent variations!!! The Dangan island events are good for analyzing their dynamic with less horrible circumstances bringing them to worst and causing them to hurt each other. The stage plays are also great to mention since there’s some komahina content that is play original, and seeing them physically interact is fun! Can’t forget the Komahina CD too Lol. There’s also smaller things like their anniversary outfits, especially the matching purple ones, their animal outfits, and their Danganronpa S Swimsuits!

Little details that are so special to me are things like the parallel of Nagito waking Hajime up being reserved in Danganronpa 2.5, and there’s also how things like Hajime’s grief for Nagito that’s so compelling, special, and telling about their dynamic.

I think my main thing to actually add on properly is that, a lot of people say Hajime hates Nagito which is absolutely incorrect. I don’t think I’d try so hard or care enough to revive and or wait until a person I hated woke up. Hajime displays he actively cares a lot, they just happen to feel hurt and betrayed by each other due to the circumstances. Komahina is unhealthy but it isn’t toxic, if that phrase makes sense. The beauty of it is that they grow TO be healthier, they learn to love each other, understand each other, and in the process learn to understand and love themselves. Komahina is reciprocal, it gets unhealthy due to circumstances, but it is reciprocal and the beauty of it is them becoming healthier together.

Nagito is not a malicious psychopath, and Hajime is not an overly horny person with no personality, I see them misinterpreted and characterized like that constantly It’s ridiculous. Hajime is awkward, conflicted, introverted, caring, and tries to be positive but ultimately is usually a realist. Hajime gets attached to people easily and deals with discrimination, insecurity, and self esteem. Hajime is relatable enough to where he’s empathetic but unique enough to where he’s special.

Nagito is a mentally ill queer coded man who is an antagonist and an anti-hero. He is morally gray when it comes to his unhealthy coping mechanism and has complicated beliefs, he’s honest, intelligent, struggles with insecurity, struggles with self esteem, has absolute beliefs influenced by hope’s peak, is a parallel and warped version of Makoto while being his own person, and he’s very sweet. Nagito’s love language seems to be mostly playful teasing, he rambles a lot and weirds people out just by saying what he thinks is fact. He has tonal issues and usually isn’t self aware, despite this he also worries about the impression he gives off if he thinks it matters. His beliefs are very hierarchy based and he thinks he’s all the way at the bottom, he doesn’t absolutely hate people like him but he thinks they have no purpose other than to help those more capable and projects onto them. Nagito is a very complex character, he is numb to intense situations due to the immense trauma of it being normal for him. He’s optimistic but also pessimistic, he’s positive but also incredibly anxious, he’s well intentioned but also thinks anything is okay if it’s for hope, there’s a lot to Nagito but in the end once it clicks it really clicks. He is contradictory in a way that perfectly makes sense, creating the perfect character. There’s a lot to him but when you understand him there’s no need for words, you just get it. There’s a feeling to him, an understanding, and I think that’s really special. He really is amazing.

Anyways, the ramble on summarizing both of their characters simply is to more expand on points about their dynamic! Nagito and Hajime are sides of the same coin. Nagito is irrational when it comes to Hajime in the way that he defies his normal behaviors because he usually avoids others and thinks he’s not worth the ultimates time, it means so much to me that Nagito just immediately had a feeling and connection with him. I’ve seen some people not think about it, but genuinely Komaeda feels something upon first sight and it’s irrational given his regular behavior it’s so sweet.

This has been just a lot of me rambling, but hopefully some of it helps! I had fun yapping haha, thanks for you ask!

[kmgkmg]

EVERYTHING - LEE HEESEUNG

word count: 2.8k…

pairing: heeseung x gn!reader

synopsis: you are a freshly moved in tenant to a cheaply priced apartment, but is it too good to be true?

genre/s: fluff, non-idol!au, strangers-to-lovers, enemies-to-lovers more of a miscommunication trope, college student!reader, neighbor!heeseung

warnings: none!

rating: pg

a/n: for @dearhee!! hi, i was matched with you for the @kflixnet's exchange event! i'm a bit shy so i didn't message you, but i've enjoyed seeing your posts on my dash ^^ i hope you enjoy this short oneshot piece! the title is based off of everything by kehlani. i had a hard time choosing between her song and butterfly dream by khalil fong, also i did kinda get carried away and made you a fic playlist! and an older outdated playlist i made for heeseung a while back if you'd like to listen to it! sorry this author's note is so long omg.

Brown moving boxes cluttered your new living room. Sure, it looked a bit barren and depressing from the boxes and bubble-wrapped items lying around, but those would be dealt with right after you finished your coursework. Sitting down at the kitchen table you and Jungwon assembled just hours ago, your mouse hovered over the pause button of your laptop.  

You were attempting to finish the recorded lecture your professor posted yesterday. Latin American Politics seemed like a fascinating topics course to take, and to top it off, the professor had stellar reviews from classmates. Who would’ve known that you were getting yourself into the most intensive courses you’ve taken to date? The readings were interesting and you never had a problem completing them, but what drove you insane was the exams. Your professor would always include questions that would leave a lot up for interpretation, yet he would grade it seemingly randomly based on his mood.  The other half of the questions would require you to know a decent amount of outside information since he would ask questions that were never discussed in class or case studies, but would be relating to relevant precedents.

Something that was quickly driving you insane was your next door neighbor. You hadn’t had the chance to introduce yourself yet, but for almost the entire time you tried to watch the lecture, music could be heard through your shared wall. You thought the noise would subside if you waited long enough, but your patience finally met its limit when they turned up their music enough for you to feel the bass. 

This isn't how you imagined introducing yourself to your neighbors. You weren’t hoping to be best friends with them or anything, but you definitely didn’t think you’d be storming over to their doorstep at 11pm to complain. Still, it’s a weekday. How could they not have the common sense to be courteous of those who needed to wake up early in the morning?

Opening your door, you walked over and knocked three times on the door. A man with grayish blonde hair opened the door with a quizzical smile flashed towards you.

And maybe, no, definitely, his looks would’ve been more noticed by you on any other day. But you had an oral exam to finish polishing to present in front of your professor and classmates. 

“Can you lower your music please? I’m trying to study and it’s distracting,” You request, without paying much attention to your neighbor’s confusion gradually showing on his face. 

“I wasn’t playing any music though?” He innocently replies.

“For the past forty minutes I’ve listened to music from your side of the wall, don’t act innocent,” You groan. 

He smirked at you, “Sure, I can ‘turn it down’,” emphasizing the last part by using air quotes with his hands. 

“What do you mean with the air quotations?” You frown, imitating the air quotes he made moments ago. 

“Don’t you think you owe me a favor for turning down my music? I mean it is my apartment, I should be able to act how I want. Not my fault that the building’s walls are thin,” He shrugs. 

Of course, your neighbor is entitled. Just great. 

“You won’t turn it down? Okay, there’s an easy solution. What was the landlord’s number again? I think filing a noise complaint would make my problem solved real quick,” You answered, unlocking your phone screen and showing the dial pad screen to him.

His smirk fades, “Alright, alright, I’ll stop playing my music and singing,” taking your phone and typing a number onto it, “here’s my number.” He extended his hand to you with your phone placed on his palm. 

You snatched your phone back, narrowing your eyes at him. “Why give me your number? So you can bother me through texts and phone calls instead?” You scoff, already heading back to your apartment next door. 

“You can message me instead of our landlord when I make noise again,” He waves, before slamming his door behind you. 

Asshole.

One thing you absolutely hated was hot weather. Without the A/C on in the middle of today, a day that was record-breakingly hot, you felt certain you would melt any minute now. Your landlord sent out an email to all of the tenants in the morning explaining that the A/C broke and would probably be repaired by tonight. You didn’t need her email to wake you up though. You were already awake, sweating profusely. The comforter had long been thrown to the floor. You stumbled sleepily to your thermostat which read as 100°F/38°C. Outside it was a bit cooler, but being outside only exposed you to the blazing sun. It was truly choosing the lesser of two evils. 

What made the day even worse is that you ran into your annoying neighbor, whose name you learned is Heeseung, as you went outside to make a quick run to buy some cold snacks. It did make it slightly better when he was covered in as much, if not more sweat than you. You couldn’t revel in his misfortune for too long though. He miraculously managed to trip over his doormat, falling onto you. Both of you scowled at each other while childishly wiping each other’s germs off yourselves. 

He hadn’t played his music anymore since the day you confronted him, but he did sing nearly everyday. If you weren’t studying, you couldn’t help admiring how talented he was. His vocals sounded like they came straight from a CD. But your appreciation for his talent never lasted long, since he always had an intuitive sense to bother you. 

Y/N, I sound good, don’t I?

How would you feel if I serenaded you sometime?

Don’t you think a guy who can sing is sooooooo hot?

Have any song requests Y/N?

His texts immediately removed any hint of charisma his music might’ve given him. Heeseung knew that his texts drove you insane, and if you were just an ounce less nice than you were, he would’ve been blocked a long time ago. Still, he had texted you about a week ago informing you he’d be redoing the foam sound panels he installed a couple years back in order to hopefully be more soundproof for your sake. While you felt relieved that you would finally have some peace and quiet after weeks of living with his incessant noise, it was bittersweet. You had grown used to his singing, occasionally singing along to the songs you knew. Although, it didn’t change the fact that he was still arrogant as ever whenever he interacted with you. 

Snapping out of your thoughts about Heeseung, the elevator doors opened on your floor. You looked down into the plastic bag of goods you got from the convenience store and sighed disappointedly at the distorted shape of the ice cream you bought. 

“Sorry if the phone was cut out, I was in the elevator. But Jake, I’m going to die in this heat!” You whined through the phone, searching your pockets with your free hand for your keys. 

“Why don’t you just come over to my place then?” He offers generously.

“That would give me the perfect excuse to see Layla…” You trail off, tempted by your friend’s invitation. 

“See, Y/N just come over and we can eat some ice cream to cool down,” Jake persuades you further. 

“You know, I actually got ice cream and other stuff and I’m pretty sure it melted on impact the moment I stepped into this damn complex,” You reveal, lightening up at the sound of Jake’s laughter. 

You finally found your keys and unlocked your door, noticing the fan by your door. There was a Post-It note attached to it: You seemed to need it more than me - Seung. He was definitely sweating more than you earlier, so why would he give his fan to you?

“Jake, my annoying neighbor just left me a really nice fan to use?” You tell him, still glancing over the note. All of a sudden? For no reason? Your suspicions grew as they usually did, sure that he must have an ulterior motive. Nevertheless, you carried the fan and your melted snacks into your apartment. 

“You mean the neighbor with the angelic singing voice?” Jake asks to confirm he was thinking about the same neighbor. 

You open your fridge, placing each item in their designated spot, “You heard him one time, Jake.”

“One time was enough, Y/N. Dude’s got the voice of an angel for real,” Jake stands his ground. 

Rolling your eyes, you take out the semi-frozen pineapple juice you put in the freezer hours ago. The original plan was to drink it for yourself, but it couldn’t stop bothering you that Heeseung had seemingly been nice for no reason. The fan he gave you blew cold air and if you wanted it to be even colder you could add cold water or ice to a compartment. It was expensive, you could tell from the look of it alone. Also, you did happen to browse for fans while you were waiting in line at the convenience store. Was the fan in front of you the one you considered buying? That’s not important right now…

“Y/N?” Jake’s voice snaps you away from your thoughts. 

“Sorry, give me a sec,” You grabbed the plastic bag on the counter and added the frozen pineapple juice and gummies to it. It’s not equivalent to his fan, but at least it’s something. 

You reopened your door, preparing to hang the bag on his door handle and go back to your conversation. What you didn’t expect was Heeseung to be walking in the hallway, humming a song while twirling his keys with one hand and carrying takeout in the other. He caught you in the middle of what was supposed to be a discrete delivery, raising his eyebrow in amusement. 

“And what do I owe the pleasure, Y/N L/N?” He moseyed over to you, flashing one of his infamous smiles at you. 

“I just left some things in the bag since you gave me that fan. I appreciate it, but um, if you don’t want the snacks since you just got food, I can grab it later,” You mumbled, trying to scurry back into your apartment since Jake was definitely going to tease you about any interaction you had with Heeseung. 

“Wait, is that the angelic neighbor, Y/N?” Jake’s voice practically booms from your phone. You must’ve accidentally pressed the speaker button. Heeseung’s smile only grows wider as he looks at your phone, with you being completely mortified and hanging up on your best friend. 

“Angelic neighbor, huh?” 

“Don’t let it get to your head, Heeseung. That’s just my friend’s nickname for you,” You attempt to crush anything he was imagining, matching his cheeky energy. 

“Aw, so you talk about me that much? I’m flattered, really,” He places a hand on his heart, closing his eyes in a feigned earnest expression. 

“He heard you singing one time, Heeseung. Then, I mean I might’ve told him you were always singing with that flawless voice of yours, but that was it really,” You rambled, not thinking much about the words that were coming out of your mouth. 

“Flawless voice…” He repeats, turning shy at the surprise compliment you gave. 

You were completely unaware of what you said, still trying to make your way back to your apartment. 

“Anyways, if you don’t have anything else to say I’m going to head back into my place…” You point with your thumb to your door, confused as to why he suddenly turned so quiet. 

“Thank you.” 

Now it was your turn to be surprised, “For what?”

“I’ve been going to all these auditions but keep getting rejected. Each place I go nitpicks my technique, but you called my voice flawless. I guess I really needed to hear that right now,” Heeseung explains, now fidgeting with his keys. 

The puzzle pieces started falling into place, “So that’s why you’re always singing?”

He nodded in response, “The first day you came over to my door, I was practicing for a callback the following morning. I knew that we were expecting a new tenant and sure, I heard you moving things in, but moving in took me like three days. The last time someone new moved in was me, which was two years ago. So, I just assumed that you would still be moving in. It didn’t occur to me that you could’ve moved all your stuff in one day. I guess what I’m trying to say is, I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I was making that much noise that night, I didn’t know you were all moved in yet.”

His sincere apology surprised you for the second time, “I’m sorry, too. I’m a law school student and I was prepping for an exam that determined a huge part of my grade. I can get a bit sensitive to sounds when I’m studying for exams,” You apologized back. 

Heeseung’s fingers stopped fidgeting with his keys as his expression softened, “Thank you for the snacks, I’ll enjoy them, Y/N.”

The warmth in his voice as he said your name made you flustered, used to him only saying your name in a teasing tone, “Y-Yeah, no problem. Thanks for the fan, I’ll use it well.”

“Oh, before I forget, I was going to drop off one of these sandwiches by the fan if you weren’t home yet,” He reaches into his takeout bag and hands you a sandwich. 

Today must be the day he decided to endlessly surprise you since he handed you your regular order from the local deli, “How’d you know my order…?”

“About a week ago, you made an UberEats and the delivery person knocked on my door first,” He nonchalantly explained. 

“Ah, I see. But why are you being so nice to me? I mean it’s a complete 180 from this morning,” You question him, still suspicious of his kindness. 

“I just woke up when I tripped into you earlier. Also, I absolutely hate hot weather so I would’ve made that face if I bumped into anyone,” Heeseung answers, “I hope that we can get along from now on.”

You nod in agreement and thank him for the fan and sandwich once again before parting. 

Finally back in your apartment, you FaceTimed Jake only to be met with the faces of both him and Jungwon. 

“Tell us everything!” 

Months had passed since Heeseung and you finally cleared up your misunderstandings. Your once sour relationship with him had turned into a strong friendship, spending most of each other’s free time with each other. 

His love as a friend was anything but conventional. He knew all of your details, from the first time you officially hung out and watched the newest John Wick movie to the time when you went to a dog cafe together, he was always attentive to you and your interests. You were equally attentive to him, recommending songs that would suit his voice, or sending videos about fishing since it was his hobby. Jake had grown closer to Heeseung as well, reporting back to Jungwon each time you and Heeseung would gush about each other. 

It was obvious to everyone that you loved each other. Well, obvious to everyone but the two of you. That was, until one fateful summer night spent on the apartment’s rooftop with each other. You were watching a fireworks show in the distance, enamored with the various colors filling the dark night sky. 

“Isn’t it stunning, Seung?” You exclaimed happily, not breaking your attention from the fireworks in front of you. 

He wasn’t looking at the fireworks though. His eyes were fixed on you beside him, taking in everything you are, “Yeah, absolutely stunning.”

You turned towards him, only to be met with his unwavering gaze, “Heeseung?”

He softly led you to the table and chairs on the rooftop, hinting that he wanted to sit down next to you. You followed him, picking up when he wanted to say something.

After a deep breath in Heeseung began, “Y/N, I love the way you teach me about things I never would have thought to learn about. I love the way you listen to my concerns and nonsensical excited rants about my favorite shows or album releases. I love your extrovertedness and willingness to help those around you. I love your laugh. I love you.”

“Heeseung, I love you too,” You reply, unable to properly formulate all the reasons why you loved him. If you started listing the reasons why you loved him, you feared you would never stop. 

But your confession back was enough for him to shine brighter than any of the fireworks you watched before, “Really?”

You smile at him, causing him to envelop you in a hug. 

Who would’ve thought that your noisy neighbor all those months ago would end up being the person you loved?

[soisaidfine]

The artist and his producer. Writing a hit: Dancing in the Dark. (Bruce Springsteen and Jon Landau)

Pamela Springsteen, Bruce's little sister: Dancing in the Dark, live.

"Landau wanted a first single, and by that he meant more than just a guaranteed hit. “When I used the word single, in my own mind I meant it in a much bigger sense. The type of single I was talking about was a single that would truly represent what was going on. And I was also searching for a way to express the idea that I wanted something that was more direct than any one thing that was on the record. As I said to Bruce, a song where a person who is a Bruce fan, who stayed with you on Nebraska, even if it was mysterious to him, a song where that guy’s gonna say, ‘Yeah, that’s Bruce; that’s what he’s all about, right now, today.’” “I don’t have a song like that,” Bruce said. Landau persisted, arguing his case strenuously and in great detail. “I don’t know if I was doing it to be provocative or what. I was just doing it. I was saying things I hadn’t planned to say,” he remembered. Springsteen balked, then exploded. “Look,” he snarled, “I’ve written seventy songs. You want another one, you write it.” Landau took it on the chin but got in the final punch: The point wasn’t just that he wanted such a song—although he frankly admitted that he wanted this as much as Bruce had wanted Nebraska—but that the album needed it, that it would be artistically incomplete until such a song existed.

By the time they left for the studio, Landau and Springsteen had calmed down, but both found the experience “weird,” mostly because neither of them was given to such emotional roughhousing, at least not with each other. “It was a very explosive few moments, and it subsided very quickly and we went off and worked on the mix,” said Jon. “It was as close as we get to almost the atmosphere of an argument, but it didn’t hang in the air at all.”

But later that night, alone in his hotel suite, Bruce found himself replaying the discussion. Sitting at the end of his bed in those hours before dawn that he still treasured most deeply, he picked up his acoustic guitar and began to strum a simple riff. He’d already thought up an opening line: “I get up in the morning,” he sang and stopped. No, he thought, I don’t wake up in the morning. What do I do? “I get up in the evening,” he sang softly and thought, Well, how do I feel about that? “…and I ain’t got nothin’ to say/I come home in the morning, feeling the same way/Man, I ain’t nothin’ but tired, tired and bored with myself.”

Telling the story even a couple of years later, Bruce still seemed a little bit in awe of what happened next. “It was just like my heart spoke straight through my mouth, without even having to pass through my brain,” he said. “The chorus just poured out of me.”

You can’t start a fire, you can’t start a fire without a spark This gun’s for hire, even if we’re just dancin in the dark

By sunup Landau had what he’d asked for: a song that summed up Bruce Springsteen’s life in that moment. It was exactly what the album needed. But it was more—the most directly personal excavation Bruce had extracted from himself since “Born to Run,” a song whose intimacies ran bitter and deep. Even the song’s quotations from rock and roll classics were cuttingly ironic: Bruce Channel’s mournful “Heeeey, baby!” and Elvis’s “Have a laugh on me/I can help” each mutated into a statement of frustration. In a way, the song was about everything Bruce had withstood since Nebraska. Through it all, Bruce’s songs remained stoically philosophical. In “Dancing in the Dark” he finally let his bottled-up confusion explode. Through its verses, “Dancing in the Dark” sounds not so much bitter or angry as just plain irked, ticked off at events. When he recorded the song, Bruce snapped off every line as if it were so brittle it might well shatter, and as if he didn’t give a damn. Lonesome as some of those lines were, they were aggressively sardonic, too. “I wanna change my clothes! my hair! my face!” he cries, bemoaning “livin’ in a dump like this,” attacking his own loathing and fear of aging and responsibility and competition and the unending tug of each of these things. “Dancing in the Dark” becomes a jeremiad, as well as a replay of his rancorous discussion with Landau, this time with Bruce playing both roles. Juxtaposed against “You can’t start a fire without a spark” is the rejoinder: “You can’t start a fire, worrying about your little world fallin’ apart.” This was a protest song worth keeping—a marching song against boredom, a battle cry against loneliness, and an accounting of the price the loner pays. And on top of that, it’s also the moan of an extremely physical person who can’t wait to hit the road again: “There’s somethin’ happenin’ somewhere/Baby, I just know there is,” he sings, and again, “I’m dyin’ for some action.” He was well on his way to finding as much as he—or anyone—could handle.

Landau asked for a song about how Bruce was feeling. Bruce responded with a record that was about how he felt the second the song was proposed. In a way, “Dancing in the Dark” is about being caged in by one’s own creation—its genesis is the desire to finish making Born in the U.S.A. Oddly, however, recording it proved difficult for Bruce. The session was one of the smoothest ever for the E Street Band—that day just Bittan, Weinberg, Tallent, and Springsteen, with Clemons’s saxophone solo added later. But it came out as a record dominated by Roy Bittan’s synthesizer and the supple drumming of Max Weinberg, while Bruce thought the song should be led by guitar. Over the next several days, he tried a variety of approaches to make it work that way. “In the end, it was just like any child,” he said. “It was gonna be what it was gonna be, no matter what I wanted.” Springsteen surrendered and the record was done."

Dave Marsh: Bruce Springsteen

[elithesia-autem-danguarde]

Depot Agents Information Post (Part 2)

This is the second half of my introductions to my Gear Station Depot Agents. Get to know them better along with their individual quirks. 

Jackie:

-Jackie is a cisgender woman, uses she/her pronouns, and is a lesbian. She is also 5′8″ (173cm) tall.

-Jackie tends to talk very little in general. She’s often so quiet that people won’t know that she’s entered a room until she makes some kind of noise.

-Jackie’s background is mysterious and very hard to verify. While she’s undoubtedly an orphan, it’s not certain if her claims of being abandoned at the Gear Station and then having never left since then are true.

-Jackie can sometimes get lost in her own thoughts to the point where she forgets to initiate battles with people riding the subway, She always makes sure to apologize for it.

-Jackie cares for her coworkers and others a great deal, but she’s not very good at expressing it. She tends to do better by showing this through actions such as keeping the Subway clean, though her actions can sometimes be strange.

-Despite people’s best efforts to find anything on Jackie, no records of her life have ever been able to be located by anyone. It’s also unknown where she lives.

-Jackie can sometimes be heard humming or singing songs strange songs that don’t sound Unovan in origin. Guests to the Subway can sometimes identify them, though it can’t de declared she’s from any particular region.

-Similarly to Ingo and Emmet, Jackie’s eyes seem to illuminate in the dark sort of akin to train headlights. They think it’s hilarious.

-Jackie possesses psychic abilities that allow her to make short-term prophecies about future events. Though no one really understands it, all of her coworkers have learned to take her seriously. 

Isadore:

-Isadore is a demiman, uses he/him and they/them pronouns, and is bisexual. He is also 6′0″ (183cm) tall.

-Isadore is a very blunt person to the point of sometimes being mean, and they don’t always care about the difference. However, they will straighten themselves out if told to do so by superiors.

-Isadore brags about his battle prowess, but he does genuinely have the skills to back up his claims. 

-Isadore is a sore loser and can also get fussy if their plans are thrown off schedule.

-Isadore does work very hard in regards to his job and will make sure that no task is left unfinished at the end of each day.

-Isadore cares a great deal about the appearances of both themselves and their Pokémon, and will often wake up early to make sure they all look good before the start of each new day.

-Isadore is probably the most skilled of the depot agents in regards to Pokémon battling, only being second to Ingo and Emmet themselves. However, his attitude and mannerisms often cause this aspect of him to be overlooked.

-Isadore is actually a very big fan of Pokémon musicals, but will deny it to hell and back. They get touchy when people suggest they take up participation in that field instead.

-While Isadore is generally healthy, people will sometimes voice concern for his health due to how skinny he looks. However, he insists he’s fine and brushes the subject off.

Ramses:

-Ramses is a cisgender man, uses he/him pronouns, and is gay. He is also 5′10″ (178cm) tall. -Ramses has worked at the Gear Station for over two decades and has gained a reputation as a diligent and polite worker. -As a young man, Ramses took care of a young Ingo and Emmet for about a year after the deaths of their parents so that they could remain in Nimbasa City until they started their Pokémon journeys. -Ramses is often thought to be too nice for his own good, struggling to always handle discipline on the subway. However, he’s noted to be quite terrifying when angered, so it’s not good for people to test his limits too much. -Ramses never had much ambition for his life and has been satisfied with his job at the Gear Station for years. Out of all the depot agents, he’s probably the most satisfied with his life overall. -Ramses has a husband and two children of his own. He’s also by far the best depot agent to deal with children overall. -Ramses is an amazing cook and will sometimes bring meals for all of his coworkers to share and enjoy. No one complains and they all make sure to thank him for his efforts. -Ramses is way more into sports than he might seem, and can commonly be found at Big Stadium or Small Court on his days off. -Ramses is one of the only people working at the Battle Subway who has a driver’s license. He tends to carpool everyone home during times of bad weather.

[nancypullen]

Monday, Monday

Oh, I can’t wait for the day when Monday no longer means Mickey dragging down the hallway to sit in front of a screen all day.  He’s good at his job, and most days he actually enjoys it (that might be stretching the truth a bit), but he’s a little over a year from retirement and the grind is getting to him.  I bite my tongue and do not point out that he doesn’t fight traffic, he doesn’t even have to put pants on if he doesn’t feel like it, and his lovely assistant provides a delicious and nutritious lunch every day. He’s got it better than a lot of people, but no one wants to hear that when you’ve worked since your teens and you’re ready to relax and reap the benefits of all that hard work. In other words, Mondays around here are still a bummer.  I try not to be too chipper and I made Monday my bathroom cleaning and laundry day just so I can suffer a little in sympathy.  I probably have a better time cleaning toilets than he does at his desk.  In other news, it was raining Etsy boxes at my house today.

  I’ve used all but about three dollars of my gift certificates and I think I chose wisely.  Garden stuff, hobby stuff, a little jewelry, and this little mouse came all the way from the UK.

Now she’s here to keep my art room tidy.   Anyone recognize her? That’s Hunca Munca from Beatrix Potter’s  A Tale of Two Bad Mice.  She and her husband, Tom Thumb, left their mousehole because the temptation of a dollhouse was just too much.  Once inside the dollhouse they were so disappointed that all of the delicious-looking food was fake that they made quite a mess. SHe felt awful about it and now very early every morning Hunca Munca tidies the dollhouse before anyone wakes.  I’m hoping she’ll do the same around here. If not, at least she makes me smile.

And in the name of tidying up, I’ve been trying to make the most of the pantry space and get it organized.  This was the vision I had...

Yeahhhh, I don’t have that kind of pantry.

I have a long way to go, but I’ve labeled areas so I can start placing similar items in groups and eventually I’ll have lots of pretty baskets ad labeled containers.  But for right now it looks like this.

That’s just one corner. I also have sections for table linens, small appliances, baking stuff, and so on. It’s not pretty yet, but it’s functional.  Even though it’s not pretty, I have to admit that I love opening the doors and seeing Ina Garten smiling at me.

Right now I’m really wishing I’d painted the walls behind those ugly metal shelves.  You know darn well I’d paint them a soft, pale pink and make it all girly. Great, now I’m thinking pink and you know once I get it in my head....Mickey will hate hearing this idea.  I’d also love to replace those wire/metal shelves with some dark stained wood.  Bet he’ll fight me on that.  You all already know I’m going to have a pink pantry with dark shelves, right?   Anywayyyy, big weekend coming up.  The Edgewaters are escaping for a romantic weekend and that means that Little Miss is staying with us.  I’m brainstorming some fun stuff for us to do, but entertainment will not be a problem - my sister is driving over on Saturday morning!  She’s down from Maine for the winter and she wants to pop in and see us.  Actually, she wants to giggle with the grandgirl and I think it will be a hoot to see that her Grancy has a sister.  I’ll tell her we’re like Elsa and Anna except very, very old.  I’m sure the three of us can stir up some fun.

That said, here’s my quandary.  The Miss Universe pageant is Saturday night.  You know how I am about that particular event.  I’ve been doing my research, getting glimpses of national costumes, hoping for a peek at evening gowns.  I’m excited.  So, do I turn it on and let the grandgirl stay up past her bedtime to see princesses from around the world?  If I do that, there will be running commentary.  Also, her parents may not want her watching a pageant. Do I record it and watch it Monday night after we return her to her rightful owners?  I’d have to be very careful not to watch or read any news that might spoil it.  Does this seem frivolous - yes, of course. Would I give up pageants forever for weekends with her? Absolutely. But this is my Super Bowl and I enjoy the heck out of it.  I’m thinking I’ll play it safe and watch it on Monday.   I really don’t need her telling her parents that she stayed up and watched a show where women walked around in swimsuits in exchange for a big diamond crown. Mmmkay, I think I’ll head upstairs and take a bubble bath.  The mister is watching the Georgia-Texas game, apparently this is a big one.  If I go take a bath now I can stay upstairs and turn that tv to murder.  Either that or I can browse pink paint samples for the pantry.  Mickey will probably consider that a crime. Hope you’ve had a pleasant Monday.  If not, then I’m glad it’s over. May the rest of your week be surprisingly fun. Stay safe, stay well. XOXO, Nancy

[jefarawol]

Is this truly so complex a puzzle? Or have you no stomach for the obvious solution?

What in the hells are you doing here!?

A pleasure to see you too, Garlond. Now, if you would be so kind as to explain to these good people why you should be begging me for my assistance, that would be most appreciated.

Who is this man?

A pain in the ass...

Oh, how terrifically rude of me! Nero tol Scaeva, former tribunus of the XIVth Legion of the Garlean Empire. These days, however, one might say that I am something of a free agent.

What do you want, Nero? 

I was getting to that. Although you already know what I am about to propose, old friend. As you have rather belatedly realized, within that frail binding lurks an entity alike in strength to the great Bahamut. And the only force in existence which might conceivably contend with such a foe is the very creation which captured the elder primal in the first place. I speak, of course, of Omega.

Omega!? That hulk has been gathering dust beneath the plains of Carteneau since the Allagans breathed their last! And none alive knows how to wake it.

I'm sorry─do you understand who it is with whom you have the privilege of speaking? I am Nero tol Scaeva, master engineer─the mechanical genius who restored the Ultima Weapon to full operational capacity! And, as luck would have it, I am graciously offering you the use of my considerable expertise.

And, what, you just expect us to accept? You're a fool if you think your deeds at the Crystal Tower were enough to win my trust, Nero.

Trust? You wound me, Garlond! All those years studying side by side at the Academy, sharing both trial and triumph. We were countrymen, once, you and I. But sentiment aside─have you a better solution? Or do you mean to send in your vaunted hero there, as you always do, and pray the world is not engulfed in flame? Let us approach the problem in a rational manner. Does not the fact that Omega slumbers in stasis point to the existence of some overriding technology? A means of control?

I would ask a question, if I may─Nero, was it not? In the event that we succeeded in using Omega to shackle the primal in the manner you propose, what then would become of it? Do we not risk repeating the mistakes of the Allagans?

Omega is but a tool. How we choose to employ that tool is entirely up to us. Of course, if you would rather leave it buried beneath Carteneau while you continue your petty squabbles above, then I suppose that is also your choice.

Spare us, Nero! The Seedseer's concern is a valid one. He who controls Omega wields the power of the gods. The very power which led the Allagans to destroy themselves.

And does it not fall to we engineers to prevent such misuse? What was your company's proud slogan? “Freedom through Technology”?Cid: Hah. A creed you follow, is it?

What say you? Do we take this villain at his word?

No, but I'll keep and eye on him.

As will I. I don't like it, but then it doesn't look like we have much choice. Would the council be willing to entrust this matter to a pair of former imperials?

Yes. The task of restoring the Allagan relic will be yours. But the responsibility for its reawakening must remain with the council. Do we condone this course of action?

Aye. 'Twould seem we do. Let the records show that we invest this contingent with the authority to enter Carteneau and take command of Omega. Cid, I appoint you leader of the expedition. Scions─I would ask that you assign some few of your number to escort Master Garlond and supervise the other one.

[dearcraziness]

Chapter 1.

It was quiet, not a sound was heard in the whole studio. However, there will be lots of funny noises, as usual. The rooms and corridor were not very brightly lit, but this didn't prevent Bendy and his friends from having very interesting time together. The surroundings seemed dark and gloomy. It was only in the interior of the rooms, nothing more. If a stranger had entered and seen the gray-yellow walls, the dull wooden floor, they would certainly have thought that they were in the most depressing place in the world, which was far from the truth. The creatures living here, called "ink creatures" or "monsters", had a great time every day, enjoying singing songs or drawing pictures. Often the word "monster" causes negative impressions, for example, fear or contempt. But black and white cartoon characters were created as such, and they chose kindness and sincerity instead of rage and urge to destroy. They didn't want to create chaos at all, because they knew that they already had the most important in their whole existence - each other. Nevertheless, terrible things were meant to appear... People who have drawn the characters and brought them to life have done terrible things...

One fine day, Bendy discovered something new in the recording studio. In general, the imp found reasons to have fun every day. He was constantly illuminated by new grandiose plans and ideas, which he shared with Boris and Lara. Today was no exception.

"Guys, let's go quickly!" he exclaimed with impatience. "I have to show you something!"

"I hope I didn't wake up at five o'clock in the morning in vain." Boris remarked sleepily.

"Don't even doubt it!" Bendy confirmed. - You will definitely like it!"

They went down the wide wooden steps. The friends approached the vocal room, isolated from the rest of the room by the additional wall. This is where friends used to record their voices.

"Here, take a look," showed Bendy. "The device located opposite the microphone can not only record sounds, but also add different effects! For example, I can record a song in reverse form or make a montage, and also remake our tracks or combine them together."

"So you woke us up to show what you were going to do?" mechanic emphasized the penultimate verb.

"Exactly." Bendy confirmed, ignoring his friend's reproach.

"Oh, it would be great to hear the sound of one of our songs in reverse," Laura said. "Quite an interesting device."

"Have you also noticed what an amazing range for creativity it expands?" the musician smiled. "We'll definitely experiment with the sound overlays."

"What I'm more interested in is how did all this come before us?" the girl asked quietly.

"If it appeared, then it was necessary for someone. Why guess?" Boris asked. "I'm much more concerned about where my gloves are. I'm going to look for them."

Then he left the recording studio, looking under each chair and pulling gears and tools out of boxes - what if the loss is there?

"Hmm, aren't they on the table in his room?" Lara thought.

Bendy chuckled.

"Let him remember. He'll find them anyway." he smiled.

The girl smiled back at him.

"You know, Bendy, I have to tell you something..."

Bendy froze.

"I think I wanted to tell you something too..." he said and immediately blushed.

"Remember when I said I didn't have my own songs? Actually, I've written a couple of tunes, but I can't show them yet. I hope you'll understand..."

Bendy immediately came to his senses.

"Oh, of course, you can keep your creative ideas secret and share them only when you feel ready! Just know that I will support any of your endeavors." he replied good-naturedly.

"Thanks, I'll keep that in mind. Well, see you soon then..."

"See you at lunch..."

Before leaving the room, Lara turned around and smiled at the young man. Bendy waved after her.

Mixed feelings of joy, sadness, embarrassment, and dreaminess crowded into his heart. But he knew one thing for sure - there was a lot of good events ahead of them... After all, their world is especially noticeably sparkling with magic and miracles.

[dr-symbiont]

Is it time to talk about dreams? I haven't read any explanatory literature, I prefer to learn everything from my own experience, and I've been recording dreams for years. I have achieved results in my practice: now every period of hibernation I see something, usually all very clear, though not very logical - this is normal; also I do not forget or confuse events. I contemplate conscious dreams quite often, but do not find them interesting to consider. Lately, however, I've been too lazy to write them down, and some instances get lost altogether, so... here we have a veeery short selection of horror stories. <]

[November 15, 2022].

First you, a local homeless thief with only skin and bones left, are taken from the grim streets by certain priests. Not so - the Inquisition. The Inquisition, but vice versa. In this universe, you're not supposed to believe in religion, because if anything, it's Evil.

They mock you until a rank higher can see. We are bound and left, avatar, I feel your despair and incomprehension, and yet I am in your mind for the rest of this dream.

They are fattening you up. It goes on for a while before I have time to realize that in this dystopia, you and I are being taken on a boat, and we are drifting further and further away from shore, until I become uneasy.

You stare into the water, dark because of an overcast sky with a faded, unhealthy sun, and infinitely deep.

That's how they leave you. You have a whalebone in your teeth, bound hand and foot, and sinking swiftly in the somehow choppy water. I too am restless, my nameless avatar, I feel a vibration. There seems to be an approaching reason why the water has begun to fluctuate.

So, let's see.

That gang of cultists killed you and imprisoned you as the personification of the sea serpent for their glory. They hoped to subdue the avatar, but I didn't like their treatment of you.

You are very cramped, you grow and grow and grow and grow... there is not enough room in this world for you anymore. It's time to create your own. Embody Being somewhere where the laws of physics and space don't apply, right? That's great. Come on, snake.

I'm awake.

[November 18, 2022].

I was dreaming of a series of 15 episodes. I stopped at 7, some didn't have previews. At the end of each series I was almost dying and at least severely maimed, but someone else was dying instead of me: loved ones, colleagues, relatives, the maniacs themselves, and random people. The series always ended with a silent image of a bloody mess.

Darkness, a little light, whether from a lantern or moonlight, and a glistening pile. Often not the body, but only the insides. A grainy effect. A long, deep silence.

The causes of death were always some kind of killer, not ridiculous choices like in "Destination." So, in one of the more detailed cases, when I was still awake in the morning, I went with someone in the middle of the night to a place outside of town with fields and a big house that looked like a sawmill. Something there we needed. But the most important thing was not to be caught by a certain serial maniac known for killing his victims with a rock on the head. The important thing was not to make any noise. I was wondering where he was going to get the stones and why he would be here.

The problem was to get away from there. They left... not all, but because of the other guy, not the blue-eyed stone killer. Something was found on the spot, and I'll be honest, it reminded me more of a rift in another time. It scared me away, it smelled dangerous.

The driver on the bus was drunk. The bus was empty.

I had never read a dream book. What do you dream about your own death? The cuckoo's already gone, or stress, I guess. I don't care. When I get strangled, when I drown, when I run to the other side of the world in an attempt to delay my death, but know that I will be found with complete neutrality, as if a bot in the game would just follow my trail - I decide to wake up.

(upd: death in the dreambooks has a similar meaning to the arcana of the same name in the tarot, and does not mean death in its literal sense, but change and new ways).

God, one day this death will happen for real and I won't be able to wake up at will.

In another episode, somewhere near the end, when everything went relatively well, no casualties and I was walking home with my mother, when we were abruptly dragged into a car by a certain super-fast couple (by time standards, they were moving in space really too fast), and their car was going really frantic. The woman fired several shots at my mother, and she fired them at mine, and I felt an oppressive void at the point of impact, very dark and partly squeezing, until I reached out to move my gun in her direction, for she would not stop shooting at me. It didn't work, instead she shot through the glass, and then what happened, I don't know, all I saw were piles of other people's flesh and organs in a sort of downhill slope into the woods off the road. Must have been a car crash. I sat under a tree and looked up at the night sky. Much quieter than usual.

Did I remember, did I feel anything about it all being over? Or was I just looking up at the sky as if nothing had happened?

I was looking up at the sky, but it seemed as if I could still see this completely silent ending to the series, in which the insides are shown from one or two angles for a few minutes after the hype. No noise in my ears. That's how it felt.

On the human side, it's scary. It's scary to see and feel that, to realize one's immersion and involvement in what has happened, though more often than not people only want to cut themselves off from it.

On the dry facts side, this kind of dream detail is fascinating, there is something in it, and I will respect my dreams by all means. It didn't hurt me much, though-my real fears weren't there.

[November 19, 2022]

These were the wars associated with the airlift. <White army, holy countenance>. <Crosses>. I remember a day when the sky was a sunset crimson hue. They called it Twilight Day, which happens twice a year. Or once every two years.

Twilight Day was valued as sacredly as any other biblical holiday, in connection with which the wars were suspended for twenty-four hours, giving the soldiers a rest. I don't know who is fighting there and for what, but the flying military equipment is overwhelmingly huge.

The atmosphere of exaltation and bustle all around and at the same time such an easy calm. It's too beautiful.

[November 20, 2022]

The assassins again. This time indescribable objects that exist outside the quantum. They are unable to move as long as they are in sight, but once the world can't see them, they are full of speed.

Don't blink, you can't. Don't look away. Don't turn around.

They don't kill, but they feed off <potential> energy, I'm told. Something familiar, I may have read. And they take to the unknown. Potentially taken into the potential unknown.

They've got everyone. I sit alone in the corner of my room. My camera is on and pointed at the window. They've cut off the lights.

To die again. Fuck it.

[January 23, 2023]

You know, I always dream about something very distorted and hard, followed by hours of withdrawal if I try to go to sleep against my regimen, like at five in the morning - which is much earlier (and that's when this breathing problem occurs, which I have to remember to breathe or I will choke, but I won't slow down - I won't fall asleep, but it might just be a runny nose). I was just and just on a feeling level. I felt so exhausted, but not bodily, and yet so normal, as if I were living in broth. I want to mention the caves. It is just one of the many momentary places, the most important of all, that I was in at the same time as others, and it is indescribable. It was dark, warm and cold. In another place I also cut someone. :р

I was aware that this was a projection, and I just wanted to see if I would get any sensation from hurting others. It turned out to be surprisingly exhilarating (I could feel my body-sleeping chest heaving), on a deep level pleasant, not a superficial emotion like empty joy or physical satisfaction. A very light, unobtrusive pleasure as quantity, and the point exactly is not the victim's suffering and sobbing, but the mutilation of my hands. I tried not to get carried away, but the very fact that my snobbishness had such a prick is like a thunderbolt out of the blue. Tears seemed to flow from my sleeping body.

I stood in traffic afterwards and realized how much reality was turning upside down and how fucked up I felt.

It's worth noting that I've been confusing dream and reality for a long time now, and I wouldn't want to allow myself to have extreme faith in situations like this.

Generally, in the dream books, the meanings of such phenomena, as far as I know, will not be very positive in general, because well, THIS is literally WOUNDS and usually means a strong collapse on the verge of a slight roof overhang.

Purely psychologically, it could be some repressed emotion (not necessarily from the present) that somehow manifested itself in the dream, because the brain kindly gave itself permission to relax a bit and express that emotion HOWEVER. Thank you, mind, I was aware of my need for control, not enough sadism on top of that!

[palpipeen]

One Year, Eight Weeks, Two Days: Days -9 through -365

They didn't wake up in prison, only somewhere they've never been before, and they also don't remember the names of their family or the planet they're from. But lucky for them, some generous benefactor left holo-recordings for them to watch when they woke up. So, all things considered. Waking up in a room they’d never been in their entire life could have gone a lot worse! Rating: R for Language, Canon-Typical Violence Future Ratings: NC-17 for Sexual Themes Warnings: Amnesia, corrupt police, mentions of drugs/weapons smuggling, mention of slavery/trafficking, mentions of violence/war, a Mandalorian being big and scary and imposing This is an OC centric fic where the MC is AFAB Non-Binary and goes by They/Them pronouns WC: 2122 AN: Part two! This was actually all one chapter, but it got up to over 6k words. And that is just too many IMO. This one introduces the secondary MC - our Mandalorian. But not the Mandalorian. This fic is ENTIRELY OC centric, it is set during the events of The Mandalorian. The Mandalorian featured in this is not Din - he's his own guy. Hope y'all enjoy!

It wasn’t a jolt of panic or a wave of nausea that woke them up every morning. It was usually something slightly pointed jabbing them in the leg, over and over again, that once they recognized they pointedly tried to ignore. Keyword being ‘try’ of course. Because once their droid companion got her mind set on something, she wasn’t likely to let it go. 

And most of the time she set her mind on getting under Rigby’s skin. Multiple times a day.

A year later and Rigby was certain the droid was still a little pissed, but things could be worse. They’d held down a steady job. And they had friends now. Okay so they had coworkers, but when Rigby knew no one else in the entire universe, they counted as friends. Whether they liked it or not.

Somehow they got the distinct impression that it was the latter.

Regardless, Rigby wasn’t going anywhere. Against all odds, they actually sort of liked their job at the diner. The work kept them busy, they actually got to see and talk to people, they got free food when Kaati was in a good mood.

Oh, there was also the bounty hunter that became one of Rigby’s regulars.

Needless to say: plenty happened in the diner. A lot more than most would give the place credit for. Rigby had seen firsthand the dissolving and reforming of relationships. Heard stories that would make the most hardened and experienced individual blush. Laughed until they thought they’d broken a rib at some of the stories. And they’d experienced genuine connections with the permanent or temporary residents of the station.

In fact, the diner was probably the key to them learning all there was to know about Mahak Orbital Station after Kaati’s quick crash course on the lift.

She was an older model - made sometime near the end of the Galactic War. What most in recent years called ‘the clone wars.’ For years the station had been orbiting what was now the shell of a planet that was inhospitable, but had a great deal of resources that could be mined from below its surface. All of those resources had been taken now, but the station still remained. One of the last bastions of civilization before one got past the furthest major civilization recorded in any starmap. It wasn’t the nicest place to live. The law was a lot looser here, the local law enforcement were more prone to looking the other way after an exchange of credits than actually doing the right thing. Or committing crimes themselves.

Now that the planet had been mined out, it was no wonder crime rates started to increase. No resources to process and export meant that everyone had to turn to other means to make ends meet. There was good money to be found in repairing the ships that docked here before flying out into Wild Space, and manufacturing parts from the scraps. But other than that, there wasn’t much. So the population had depleted by a lot, but for some, there was nowhere else to go. People got bored. People got desperate. Spice rings, weapons smuggling, slave trafficking.

Even knowing next to nothing, Rigby knew this place was definitely not somewhere they belonged.

It was a fact they were made keenly aware of on a near daily basis. Life on the station had hardened them somewhat, but Rigby was still afflicted with something that was very…unfortunate this far out from the Center Rim. That being compassion, and an unhealthy dose of gullibility. ‘Soft’ was a word that those who Rigby got closer to called them, and there had been more than one attempted robbery.

Fortunately for them, there always happened to be someone within earshot who looked out for Rigby (much to their chagrin) to intervene.

Rigby knew they were lucky. Kaati had given them a safe place to be as they floundered. Everyone who worked at the diner looked out for each other, as distant as they all tried to keep themselves from one another. It was dangerous to get too close. People disappeared often, or got murdered, or shipped off to the nearest prison barge. Or worse. The diner was something of a safe haven to patrons and employees alike, one of very few in this cold, dangerous corner of the galaxy.

Like it or not, though, this was Rigby’s home until they figured out something.

And, frustratingly, they were no closer to figuring anything out than the first week they’d been conscious on this station. Who knew how long they’d been asleep in that apartment for? They certainly didn’t. Which was frustrating, and terrifying, and instilled Rigby with a deep urge to do…well.

Something.

A good seven months had passed until Rigby knew they would need something with more to offer than the diner by way of credits. They had no idea where Nugget had come from, but they knew how to perform basic and a few major repairs on the droid. And they’d done minor repairs on some of the ovens and deep freezers at the diner. So they’d gone looking for a job at one of the garages.

The many, many garages.

It had taken an additional month to find anyone willing to even hear them out. But Rigby was nothing if not stubborn when they had a feeling about anything. The crotchety old Bothan who ran the garage near one of the bottom levels of the station hadn’t been happy about it. But, Rej had no one else to help out. And when asked to perform a basic repair on one of his pit droids, Rigby had completed the task with...well, not flying colors.

Gliding colors. Barely touching the ground colors. That counted for something, apparently.

“‘Sides,” he’d gruffed as he drafted up a contract for Rigby, “got a high-paying customer paying for services I can’t do on my own.” His yellow eyes had narrowed at Rigby, “And if you keep your mouth shut, you’re getting half.”

“That’s mighty generous of you.” 

Rigby hadn’t bothered trying to hide the suspicion from their voice. They’d learned some things - kindness offered rarely came without strings attached, and Rigby had played the part of sucker way too many times. It would happen again, but on good days, it was rare. And this would turn out to be one of their last good days.

“Let me finish.” His teeth had flashed, reminding Rigby that any and all individuals on this station could be just as deadly as the next. “You’ll get half…once you’ve finished your apprenticeship.”

Well, they already had a steady source of income, paltry though it was. Rigby didn’t have it in them to argue. As difficult as Rej could be, learning his trade would pay off in the end. Rigby could just feel it. They didn’t feel that way all of the time.

Especially not when they’d met Rej’s mysterious customer, or seen his ship.

A customer that had quickly become their customer at the diner, through a series of embarrassing events.

He’d cut a very imposing figure when Rigby crawled out from under his ship a week into their apprenticeship. Mainly because he’d decided that the best place for him to stand was directly in the path of their exit, which meant when Rigby wriggled from under his ship they were sprawled out between his boots. Causing Rigby to freak out. Which had meant their skull clipped the edge of the underside of his ship when their body instinctively tried to shoot up to escape. 

Rej had really ripped them a new one for that. Their customer paid a lot of money for silence, and Rigby shouting loud enough to wake the dead would likely bring undue attention. Plus, them shooting up like a womp rat touching a live wire and maybe giving themself a concussion on his ship might’ve caused them to bleed all over it.

But how could a walking, talking, breathing suit of armor not draw undue attention?! Or not scare the shit out of Rigby when he just popped out of nowhere?! It defied all logic and reason, both of which Rigby only had so much of. For one thing, the man was huge. 

Rigby had left that part out when they’d tried to defend their reaction, feeling their customer’s eyes on them from behind a jet black, T-shaped visor. Something told them he wouldn’t appreciate them pointing that out. Or pointing anything about him out. Rigby wasn’t particularly keen to actually do that, so as Rej had reemed them, they’d studied Rej’s strange benefactor. Figuring it would be the last time they ever saw him, after their less than professional first impression.

It would take months until Rigby wasn’t convinced that the armor was covering some sort of droid. It almost entirely covered the man from head to toe with bits of his dark flight suit showing. Making his already broad figure even larger, but he seemed to move like it barely affected him. 

Honestly the whole ensemble spoke volumes of how stealth was on this man’s side more often than not. The majority of his armor was a muted, storm-cloud gray, and they got the idea in their head that it might make staying hidden easy for the very large man. Accents of deep gold along his vanbraces, gloves and bordering the visor were the only splashes of color that stood out. 

The armor looked well worn, at least to Rigby. Countless scours from various weapons, mysterious stains. This person had been in many, many fights. Probably a war or two, even. And come out, huge and somehow unscathed. Or in one piece, if there was anything humanoid under all that armor. Which made an altogether terrifying package. Alarm bells kept ringing in the back of their head the longer they’d studied him surreptitiously out of the corner of their eye.

Only for that alarm to be cemented when they’d tuned back in to Rej’s tirade.

“- bounty hunter pays for your silence, you stay. Fucking. Silent.” Rigby’s head had snapped around to gape at Rej. “Understand?”

“He’s a bounty hunter?!” 

The words came out in a barely audible squeak. All the exasperation on Rej’s face that had been commonplace when it came to dealing with Rigby seemed to add a decade of age to his features. But could he blame them? As little as they knew about their life, the concept of bounty hunters wasn’t new to them. Thanks to asking Kaati about it, after seeing someone getting caught by one months ago. 

But knowing now that this man was a hunter of people on the run brought back Teb’s words with a wicked vengeance.

Don’t leave the room.

“Yes, and a Mandalorian at that.” Okay, that word meant exactly nothing to Rigby. Grasping their upper arm, Rej had steered them out of his office and back into the main work room in the garage. Shoving them forward, he’d waved a hand impatiently as he stalked past Rigby, “Go apologize and get out of here. Don’t have time for your shenanigans.” Before he’d started work on the ship again, he’d whirled around and jabbed a finger at them. “And if you bled on this ship, that’s a week’s worth of pay!”

“Y-yessir.” Rigby nearly yelped again when they turned to the bounty hunter to find him standing right next to them. Watching them. Waiting. “Uhhh.”

Don’t talk to anyone.

“S-sorry, uhh, for before.” Rigby clutched the front of their shirt, taking a step back so they weren’t anywhere near the Mandalorian’s space. Only for him to take a step forward. So they took another step back. Another step forward. This continued as Rigby rambled out whatever apologies they could think of, but they couldn’t think so it was a lot of nonsense and bullshit. Backing away from the bounty hunter as he followed them, his movements slow and measured while Rigby was struggling to keep themself upright. Eventually their brain caught up with their own words, and they wanted to swallow their own fucking tongue. “ - sure you get tired of scaring the piss out of people, I bet it really sucks having that happen with the person who’s helping fix up your ship --”

“Dammit, Rigby!” Rej’s voice echoed through the garage, making them nearly jump out of their skin. “I told you to apologize, not talk the man’s ear off! Get the hell outta here!”

“R-right, sorry!” And just before they turned to scramble away, they heard the low, modulated voice from the man towering next to them.

“You don’t get out much, do you?”

It was a foolish hope that they would never, ever see that man again.

-------

Taglist: @seeking-kharis@jabbas-lightsaber@rain-on-kamino Wanna be added to the Taglist? Go fill out the form here!

[lucifermeo]

this thought has been niggling in the back of my head ever since dazai called akutagawa too slow to teach that time in the dungeon (which wasn't really true he was just manipulating aku) and only became more prominent when i read the failed sskk-vs-fukuchi fight but for a fighting(?) shonen(?) manga protagonists/main duo atsushi and akutagawa's talents (beside their innate abilities) are pretty....mid?

obviously i dont think theyre stupid but even if we dont consider the OP protags usually seen in the genre they still come up quite average in-universe? for one they are clearly not the brightest bulbs around. akutagawa's mostly been the brains behind sskk and he's pulled some pretty good saves like waking the tiger in 55 minutes or assisting atsushi throughout the fight against goncharov, so he's capable and can further improve (provided vampirism or death didnt turn his brain to mush rip) but theres no way its in the same dimension of the class of people considered the "brain" of the series (dazai, fyodor, ranpo, even mori). it couldve been somewhat better if their intellect complemented each other (for example ranpo+dazai whose brains become 1+1>2 together) but sskk are pretty similar in how they think? i dont think theres anything akutagawa could come up with and atsushi couldnt (well, i do have to give it to atsushi for the ability to consider strategic retreat, something aku is incapable of).

then there are their abilities & combat capabilities. the abilities are strong, no doubt, and even stronger together (sskk 1+1>2 goes here) but considering how strong the abilities are capable of, their combat power is just ok? and its quite not a problem of experience either because like how dazai and friends above reign over intellect we have seen other ability users with genius control over their abilities at very young, most notably oda and chuuya (no corruption) for me. oda's ability seemed like a cheat because he can see the future, but its really just 5-6 seconds so its still on him to react fast enough. from the day i met dazai we actually found out by 14 years old, he's killed so many people they thought it was an entire organisation behind the assassinations, but nah it was just oda alone. and even when his ability was canceled out in the fight with gide, he was still comparable in speed and marksmanship, and given how gide fought in the great war 10 years before the event of dark era, the man has years of experience over oda. similarly, its chuuya's ability to combine his gravitation manipulation to enhance his fighting with insane accuracy (generating the right momentum for his hits, gathering dust as leverage for midair mobility, etc.) that makes the gravitation control a lot more deadly. and hes done all this by the time we first saw him at 15, where "the sheep" aka basically chuuya alone has enough firepower to compete with port mafia. like oda, chuuya also fought with someone with the same ability and at 16, under normal power condition his hand-to-hand combat skills are comparable to verlaine, a government-trained spy and assassin, or even better as he managed to wound him (of course verlaine still won in the end because his dragon aka energy output is bigger than chuuya's dragon lmao). in comparison to them, sskk's track record doesnt seem as impressive? of course they have their limitations like how atsushi has only been at this for a year at most or akutagawa is simply too frail due to his illness (dazai's physical skills are below average for the mafia per chuuya's assessment and well, we all know how dazai-vs-akutagawa goes). but sskk actually had training and mentors and so far they look to be on an ordinary(?) learning curve, while oda and chuuya seemed to be just genius??

of course, as protagonists we love sskk for their drive and personal growth that us readers are privy to but kinda like how teruko told sigma, in a fight to the death its not like the geniuses like the ones above will have less drive to survive. anyway, its not really a complaint because the appeal of bsd has always been the characters and themes to me, not so much the powerscaling (even if it has been about fighting, having an "average" protag is perfectly fine). i just think its pretty interesting to take this into perspective considering if everyone manages to survive the doa arc future enemies are probably gonna get stronger, and i wonder how will we go from here, assuming asagiri still wants to give sskk the "main fight" of the arc (though who knows with the madlad anymore lmao)

(i wouldnt say no to more ability group fight like how the mafia ganged up on verlaine in stormbringer though that's be rad as hell)

[wonlouvre]

Yayyy i absolutely love your writing!!

I would like to request a Hoshi × gn!idol! Reader angst+fluff imagine where Soonyoung cheers/takes care of his reserved s/o who has been having a hard time and has opened up to him about it for the first time. S/o is someone who can't say no easily and because of that their workload had increased a lot. But in the end they can't hold themselves any longer and breaks down.

strength | k. sy.

pairing: hoshi x gn!idol reader genre: fluff, angst, then fluff again warnings: mentions of anxiety, physical and mental tiredness (please tell me if i missed anything!) word count: 1.8k+ (i honestly don’t even know anymore)

💌: thank you very much for requesting! i made some tweaks here and there and i hope you still like it! thank you for loving my writing as well :’( it really means a lot that <3 i hope you like this!

Soonyoung was aware that you’d be coming from Japan for your collaborative magazine photoshoot. He just didn’t know that you’d be going straight from the airport at four o’clock in the morning. 

He thought he read your message wrong saying that you’re on your way to the assigned shooting location. As far as he’s concerned, the call time was at seven a.m. He had to do a double take while squinting his eyes over the brightness of his phone but when he saw another bubble pop out saying you’re already there, he immediately jumped off his bed to shower. 

He misses you. You’ve been going in and out of the country because of promotions and the chances of getting to see you has been slim to none. If he ever meets with you, it will be short because either one of you has to go back to work or has to go back to bed because there is a flight to catch the next day. It’s obviously tough. But your relationship perseveres. 

Soonyoung will do everything to make it work and you are together with him on that. So if it means he has to shower half-asleep and wear his boxers backwards just to see you, he’d never mind.

Your Japanese album tour started and ended successfully but work didn’t stop from there. You were just getting started. Before leaving the said country, you were fully booked for live television performances, interviews, variety shows and the like. It was exhausting but, it was an opportunity that you couldn’t miss out on for the world even if you wanted to. 

Soonyoung is proud of you and he will always be. Heart eyes were formed whenever he got the chance to watch your performances whether it be from a paid livestream event or from kind fans sharing and uploading their videos or photos on Twitter or Instagram. He’s even more in love when it’s in person and he gets to watch your performance plus enjoy it with your never failing supportive fans. 

However, Soonyoung is also worried because he knows you’re also tired. He knows how fulfilling it is to do what you love the most, but he’s no stranger to the physically and mentally tiring part of it. He wasn’t even surprised to catch you asleep on the couch when he arrived at your dressing room. 

Your manager’s eyes brightened when they saw him, quickly standing up from the chair to give him a hug. 

“They told me they just need a fifteen minute nap,” they whisper against Soonyoung’s shoulder as he hugs them back. “But we both know they need more than that.”

Soonyoung sadly smiles while his eyes never leave your curled form. He mutters a simple “I’ll take it from here” while your manager excuses themself to buy everyone breakfast. 

It’s a challenge to take you into his arms without disturbing your sleep because he doesn’t want that from happening. He just wants to hold you for the remaining time without interruption from other people. He just wants to hold you and share this moment of calm before the lights and camera get into action later. 

Soonyoung’s thankful you didn't, although he still felt your lips lightly ghost against his jaw, telling him that you know that he’s here. He brings your legs over his lap while he cradles your head close to his neck. He wishes to lay down, but the couch is too cramped for two bodies so he’d have to settle with this position. He guesses it’s fine with how you deeply inhale his scent and snuggle closer and closer, locking your arms around his waist with no intentions of letting go. 

Just like you, he falls asleep, completely comfortable and content in finally having you in his arms again. 

Your tangled bodies were shaken to wake up at least an hour later. Both of your managers have food in their hand, ready to energize the two of you up before moving forward with the hair and makeup. The agenda for today includes a photoshoot with several changes of outfit, a short shoot for an audio video presentation and lastly an interview or question and answer of some sort. 

Your relationship has been publicly known for two years already. Some fans have been supportive while some have been angry. It’s nothing new and it’s nothing the two of you could care about at this point. 

Countless projects have been offered to the two of you during the course of those two years whether it be a song or dance performance, a guesting on a famous variety show and even a three second cameo appearance on a drama. They’re all lovely offers and you would love to participate, but the two of you made a decision to keep the relationship private. Sure, you’ll accept it from time to time. But, it’s still very limited to one to two songs to sing or dance to together and some magazine photoshoots. Just like now. 

By far, this is the third time the two of you would be featured on a magazine cover. Your respective publicists already know how to communicate to the publishing company your terms and conditions. Questions about your relationship are allowed, but to a certain number only. The rest will be about what’s mostly seen by fans and the rest of the public which is automatically your music. 

The concept is not necessarily daringly romantic. After all, what you’re trying to promote here is the clothes. But your chemistry is maintained with a few fleeting touches here and there. In one shot, you two were holding hands and the other has his arm is loosely wrapped around your neck. 

You and Soonyoung are careful to not get lost in each other’s eyes during the short breaks in between because the cameras were still rolling. Although, his soft touches on your hand and arm still lingered. On the other hand, you help him fix his hair whenever he gets excited and jumps from time to time. You could kiss him right now, but again, you want to be careful. 

The shoot concluded faster than you thought and the next thing you know, the two of you are sitting side by side with a camera blinking red in front, ready to record the interview included in the contract. 

The interview consisted of questions that’s nothing out of the ordinary. The magazine asked about your favorite go-to styles lately, your look inspirations, a little bit of this or that, your recent music releases or favorite music releases at the moment and of course something about your relationship that you're comfortable and willing enough to share. 

But one particular question caught you off guard that you had to hold your tears and brave through the rest of the interview without showing any signs that you’re about to cry.

“How have you guys been lately, individually?”

“I’ve been great,” you quickly answer with a smile that didn’t even reach your eyes. The camera may not have noticed, but Soonyoung did. It took a lot of patience and restraint for your boyfriend to stop himself from cutting the interviewer off to ask you again how you really have been. 

Everything that was in store for the two of you today ends and when the cameras are gone, you and Soonyoung hand in hand walk back to your dressing room. It’s a relief that this is the last project for the day and you’re glad you could get some rest for the coming week.

Your body slumps on the couch while the staff pack up. You puff out a breath before closing your eyes. You wish you could yell out how tired you are lately. Work piled up over the course of six months and you couldn’t have at least two days away from the makeup and flashing lights. 

Soonyoung bites his lower lip as he settles beside you. He’s contemplating whether he should ask you now or later because he doesn’t want you to grow conscious and shut yourself away. He knows how brave and strong you are. But he also wants you to know that you can trust him and that if you ever need a shoulder to cry or at least lean on, his are more than welcoming. 

“You okay, babe?” He asks in the quiet as the staff leaves one by one. “Anything bothering you?”

You surprise him by sitting up straight and opening your eyes, welling with tears. That makes him shoot up and instantly hug you close. “Oh baby.”

You finally cry and set free the tears that you’ve been locking deep within you. You thought you could brave through this pain and anxiety without having the need to shed any vulnerability. You thought this shall pass soon. You thought you could do this. 

But here you are now letting go with sniffles and shaking shoulders as Soonyoung gently caresses the top of your head. 

He hates to see you cry. But it’s only right to let you. 

“I just feel like I’m going to miss out on everything if I turn down any project offered to me.”

Soonyoung pouts when he hears what’s been bothering you. It took a while for you to calm down and finally talk, but it’s okay. He doesn’t mind. He will never mind. 

“I understand, honey,” he assures you and wipes your tear stained cheek. “And there’s nothing wrong with feeling that way.”

Your lips shake again and crying makes you want to hide. Without hesitation, you crawl to your boyfriend’s lap and wrap your arms around his shoulder. Soonyoung doesn’t complain and just keeps you close, protective arms around your waist.

The dressing room is empty except for the two of you. The staff got the message once Soonyoung pleaded with them through his eyes to give you some time with him since you’re already done for the day.

“It’s also okay to work and work,” he continues, soothing hands rubbing against your back. “But at some point, it’s also okay to take a break for them.”

You pull away and rest your hands on his neck. “Even though I’m going to miss out?”

Soonyoung nods and leans his forehead against yours. “Yes and there’s also nothing wrong with that.”

“I seriously want to go on a trip with my family,” you say and sigh. “And of course, with you too.”

Soonyoung can’t help but giggle. “I’d love to. How about next month? Let’s go somewhere with your family or friends. Where do you want to go? What do you want to do?”

Your boyfriend’s enthusiasm puts a smile on your face and this time, the smile reaches your eyes. “Let’s go somewhere quiet first. I want to take a long nap before we proceed to do anything that needs an awake body.”

“You got it, babe,” Soonyoung promises and kisses your lips.

[thefanficmonster]

Just Two Sad Roommates

Corpse Husband x Reader(Female)

Warnings: Swearing (maybe)

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Summary: The power of medieval tavern music gets put to the test when Corpse’s roommate is having a rough day. SPOILER ALERT: it’s more powerful than anyone could assume.

Requested by Anon. You know who you are 😊😋 Wish I could tag you, I loved this idea so much and had such a fun time writing it. Hope you enjoy it just as much 🥰

The last twenty four hours haven’t been so great. 

Last night I had a huge fight with my boyfriend over his flirty messages with several girls. It was not just witty banter, it was way more and way more hurtful to me. He obviously denied it and defended himself, at least in the beginning of the argument. Then he took on the accusatory stance, pointing fingers at me for living with another guy. That had me absolutely fuming. Not only was his statement fabricated and literally made up on the spot, but he also used some seriously horrible insults for him. I was having non of it. Corpse is a really great roommate, sweet guy and overall amazing person. I haven’t once argued with him since we’ve started living together. We’re actually quite good friends. So hearing my asshole boyfriend call him all those names was more than enough to chase him out of the apartment. Thankfully, Corpse wasn’t home to hear all that. He rarely leaves the apartment but by some miracle this was the time he was absent.

Then this morning my mom called me to have a chat. It started off decently enough but it only remained that way for so long. It didn’t take her long to start criticizing each and every element of my existence. From my job, my boyfriend, my living arrangement, the career I’ve decided to pursue, the fact I moved to a different state, my paycheck that’s lower than her friend’s daughter’s...…..You get the point. 

Now I’m sitting here, contemplating what the two years I’ve been in a relationship with Marcus mean to me. I guess it is just like a phone call from my mother - starts off nice but slowly deteriorates. All things follow this pattern in my life, apparently. And just like the phone calls, I’ve considered ending things between me and him many times but never actually decided on it. Until now. The last part of this decision is executing it, which doesn’t look very promising. My thumbs are frozen, hovering over the keyboard.

I take a second to take a look at my life from a third person point of view, like an out of body experience. I am wrapped in a blanket, huddled on the couch like a burrito with a face. A really sad burrito with a face. I have a job where I work as much as three highly ranked workers and get paid a little over a secretary’s paycheck. I’m in a constant state of exhaustion and disinterest. I often forget I’m human and just assume I can live like a cactus - no food, no water. I have a boyfriend that’s cheating on me and most likely has been for quite some time now. And we’ve been dating for two fucking years. Man, that must be the longest cheat streak in history. Who knows with how many girls as well. And I still have trouble deciding weather to break up with him or not. Actually no, scratch that, I have already decided, but it feel so unnatural and so out of character that my body refuses to complete the task of delivering the final blow to the structure of this relationship which was already weak to begin with.

And it only got weaker when I started catching feelings for another guy. I know, I know, I’m a bad person for that, but I was never planning to act on those feelings. They have always just...lingered, loomed over me. They got stronger and stronger every time Marcus and I would fight, as though they were laughing at my mock of a relationship.

Speaking of laughter, I hear my roommate laughing in his recording room. I gave him the spare room for his recording equipment for a cheap add to his rent fee and it’s probably the second best decision I’ve ever made - first being picking him to be my roommate. He was among the first to reply to my online add and appeared the least sketchy over the phone. More hypnotizing if I’m honest. He could’ve told me he was a hitman and I wouldn’t have batted an eye, handing the keys to his room and the apartment without a second thought. All he had to do was keep talking. Again, SUE ME.

“Fuck, I’m so fucking pathetic!“ I drop my phone when all the strings inside me snap, releasing the sobs and tears I’ve been holding back for so long.

I bring my knees up to my chest, hiding my head in between them, desperately trying to shield myself from the plane crash that is my life at the moment. Crying makes me feel even sadder and more miserable but I have nothing left to do to get all the crap that’s piled up inside me out.

I’m on the verge of falling asleep, the tears have dried and the sobs have died somewhere in my chest, when I hear what sounds like music straight from Robin Hood’s time. 

Holy shit, I’ve lost it

I lift my head from in-between my knees, looking around the living room for the source of the jolly, lighthearted tune which despite all the heaviness of my self-loathing makes me feel like the main character in an medieval adventure. Wait...Holy crap, it’s that medieval adventure, Robin Hood-ass music I hear from Corpse’s room!

I whip around to face the entrance from to the hallway where I see an arm sticking out, holding a phone which is where the music is coming from. 

“Corpse?“ I call out to him in a questioning manner, shifting to a sitting position with my blanket kicked off of me and bunched up next to me.

“I can’t tell if you’re angry or sad...or both. Didn’t want to get attacked upon entering the room.“ I see the right side of his face peek out as well.

I break out into laughter, covering my mouth with one hand, “You’re such a dork.”

He takes this as a sign to come in, pausing the music as he does so. “What’s wrong?”

My laugh stops but a smile remains on my face as I look at him. He just has that effect on me. “A lot. What’s going on with you?”

He shrugs his shoulders, plopping down on the couch, “The usual, streaming Among Us. You should play with me and my friends some time.”

I scoff, “I can pull of a lie no problem. Maybe I really should.” I don’t actually consider it, it’s just funny to think about. 

I have never watched any of Corpse’s content. Not his scary story videos, not his streams, not his animated compilations. Just his songs. And let me tell you...they are hella good. One song and I was hooked.

“Hey, I have a question.“ I tilt my head to look at him, “What’s with you and your love for medieval adventure music?“

“Medieval tavern music, and it’s not really love.“ He shakes his head with this dopey grin that is just. so. adorable. “More like a coping mechanism. Tell me, did you feel less sad I played it for you?“

I stop and think for a second. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Point made.“ He declares, leaving me to nod in amusement. “Now, tell me what that ‘a lot’ is.“

So, I do. I tell him everything, from how my boyfriend is cheating on me to how my mother thinks I’m a complete failure. He listens carefully, paying close attention to everything I’m saying. I catch myself laughing a few times while I retell the recent upsetting events.

Must be that music.

“So, you broke up?“ He asks once I end my monologue with a sigh

I shake my head disappointedly, “Not yet. I still haven’t pulled the plug. I don’t know what to say.”

He holds out his hand to me, “May I be of assistance?”

I look at his hand then at him and contemplate for only a second before deciding ‘what the hell’ and handing over my phone after unlocking it. The screen displays my boyfriend’s chat so Corpse just types away what he has in mind. Before pressing ‘send’, he hands the phone back to me. “Proofread it.”

‘Dear Marcus, this is one of your girlfriends speaking. Yes, one of them. You think I’m not onto what you’re doing, you little shit? Well, to your dismay, I am. And so, I discontinue this relation between us. That word might have been too long for your IQ so let me rephrase: We are over. Finished. Hope your other girlfriends wake up too, unless they are already in the know, of course. Love, but really hate, Y/N‘

I was never aware this level of sass even existed.

I add a smiling emoji and send the message, sighing in relief. “I can check that off my to-do list now.”

We both lean back on the couch, looking up at the ceiling. A moment of comfortable silence takes over, leaving us both wandering in our own heads.

“Hey, um, I wanted to do this when I first moved in, but then I met your boyfriend and I took the hint. Now that you’re single, would you want to...“ he sounds a bit uncertain but continues regardless, “It’s ridiculous cause I don’t really like the idea of going out, but maybe we could order take-out...“

“Are you circling around asking me on an at-home date?“ I am surprised by how unbothered I manage to sound while I’m squealing on the inside. It’s fascinating how quickly a person can flip someone’s day around. Turns out it wasn’t the music at all. It was him that had the positive effect on mine.

Out of the corner of my eye I catch his face turn red and have to contain my laughter. The grin can’t be tamed though, especially not when he says, “Yes.”

Internally squealing, I launch myself from the couch, standing up straight in front of him. “Thai. My usual order is on the sticky note on the fridge. But first,” I offer him my hand, “I need to find out if a person can even dance to that ridiculous music.” At his amusement, my grin widens, “May I have this dance?”

He laughs that adorable laugh of his I’ve only heard through the layer of a wooden door. It’s even cuter when there’s nothing between me and its source. The source is cute too, not gonna lie.

With a shake of his head which is most likely disbelief, he takes the hand I’ve offered him, saying: “And you call me a dork.” 

@susceptible-but-siriusexual  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @hacker-ghost  @itsminniekat  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios  @maehemscorpyus  @loraleiix  @letsloveimagines  @annshit  @i-cant-choose-a-username-help  @enigmaticmaze

[necros-writing-stuff]

You opened this can of worms. Now lay in it.

But I’m all seriousness if you have time can you do the wedding ask but with Kylar, Whitney, and great Hawk (I just think I’d be funny to try and explain a wedding to a harpy)

Aight here we go, part two electric boogaloo

NSFW below

Great Hawk

So, so confused. Does not get it, these strange landstrider ways of signing things.

Of getting permission from people to love.

Perfectly happy stealing you ring after ring until they find a perfect one though. If you want pretty jewellery, the harpy is more than happy to provide.

Its gonna be impossible to get the harpy into a dress or tux. Impossible to get them into town and find a venue or do anything normal.

And getting an official out in the moors? You better be paying good money.

But say you do do all that, manage to escort some poor priest or whatever to the tower, Great Hawk may get a little territorial. 

Once you calm them down, they’ll allow the person inside. If it will make you happy, they suppose. 

“Don’t worry about a witness,” the officiate says, obviously uncomfortable and wanting away from the situation.

If you dress up, Great Hawk will smother you in compliments, their mate looks amazing! So excellently preened!

The officiate goes through the words as quickly as they can, jumping when, instead of saying vows, the harpy screeches a song that declares their love for you.

You sign the presented papers, helping the harpy put their mark down, too. and the officiate runs off so they don’t have to risk their sanity any longer.

Buying a radio so the two of you can have a dance, sing along. Maybe even buying a small cake and feeding it to them, delighting in how they react to the sweet taste.

Great Hawk could fly you anywhere you wanted for a honeymoon. But what about the nest? Maybe you should wait till winter, then you two can find a nice spot somewhere warm.

Excited to mate that night, stripping your clothes and laying you down so they can breed you full of chicks. Tries to keep your clothes pristine for you.

Very thorough in their treatment of you, caresses your body and praising your everything.

You’re not entirely sure Great Hawk gets what happened. You’re still happy though, and so are they, knowing that you’re bound by their ways and yours.

Kylar

Oh this fucker planned.

Years and years in advance.

I’m talking slide shows, binders, cut-out collages of outfits and themes.

Proposes to you. The ring is goddamn expensive, and its perfect because of course it is.

The proposal was more of a formality, a definite put the plan into motion moment, you’ve always been bound to marry.

Lets you check the plans over, any changes you need to make are okay. Its your big day, too.

So happy to tour venues, to try catering, to find outfits. Everyone can see how excited Kylar is, how proud they are that they get to marry you.

Tells. Fucking. Everyone.

Old lady on the bus? Told. Local butcher? An earful. Don’t bring them to any poetry events, they’ll claim the mic to tell the whole room.

Really wants a Halloween themed wedding. Wants the two of you dressed like Gomez and Morticia, or Victor and Emily, or Jack and Sally.

If you let them do that, they’ll cry from joy and start practicing make-up every day so its perfect.

Don’t worry about price, they’ve got that covered.

The day comes and Kylar can’t wait to see you. Does not obey the traditional don’t see each other thing, will drag you off to touch you.

Most of the people from school are banned. Especially Whitney. May allow Robin, if you’ve assured them that you’re just friends.

Kylar’s family is there, they’re an interesting bunch. Rich, some a bit condescending. If this is your first time meeting his parents (unlikely) then I agree with the headcanon that one of them is probably just like Kylar - and gushes over you. Their little baby is getting a spouse all of their own.

Done in a church, even if its been dressed up in spiders webs and other stuff like that (if you let Kylar theme it).

Every guest is in costume, too.

If the PC is given away, then again you could use Bailey. They’ll smile and wave, knowing they can socialise and use it to their advantage. But I would find it funny if Doren does it, briefly telling you they were worried about Kylar in school, but you look so happy now! That's wonderful!

Kylar cries. Almost sobbing. Their mother/father stand beside them with tissues.

Records the wedding.

Personal vows. Its a poem, of course. Its not like the racy ones in English. Its heartfelt, beautiful, been drafted over and over again till it looked wrong and then right again,

One of you is getting dipped in the kiss. Be careful not to drop each other.

Honeymoon in Japan!

Going to the official stores of games you like, cat cafes, Kylar spending so long in the arcade.

Of course marathon sex. They’re not letting you go. You’ll be finding it hard to walk, room service being the only thing keeping you going.

Already said ‘I love you’ a thousand times during sex, now says it a million.

Time to start planning for babies, they’ll point out. They also have slideshows for that.

Whitney

You know how people get really drunk and do it impulsively? Yeah.

It would be on a trip out to some foreign country, you’re their slut so of course you get to come with. Doesn’t admit to having saved up for so long to take you away somewhere, just the two of you.

Parties hard throughout the vacation, taking advantage of the hot climate to dress in as little as possible, and wants to fuck you anywhere they can.

Until you wake up one night to find a signed marriage certificate with your names on it and a whole lot of missing memories.

Finds a camera, flicks though it to find out the two of you got married the night before. You’re dressed up in the worst outfits they’ve ever seen, but you’re smiling so wide, the kiss looks so full of love.

Oh look you took photos of the consummation, too.

Divorces are expensive, you know. Besides, not like you’re leaving them anytime soon. Its convenient to stay married.

Years down the line you could convince Whitney to do a proper ceremony. A recital, just so you can have one you remember.

They give in, and let you plan. But dear God are they nervous.

Terrified to tell their family. Doesn’t really want them there, scared they’ll say something to you. But if you insist.

Jokes about inviting Leighton for a brief second before deciding against. Bastard would show up and ruin everything, knowing them.

Almost runs off. Even if you’re already married, if its just a little ceremony with close people, Whitney feels vulnerable. Their friends will be there, will they think they’re weak?

But they suck it up and go to the recital.

Tries not to cry when they see you. Fails. Quickly wipes their face before anyone can see. Everyone already saw.

Whispers their vows to you. So quiet everyone leans in, but you hear them perfectly. They mean it when they say they love you, and you can only tell further when you go to place the ring on their finger to find a black band a writing around where the ring goes.

Its your name. Tattooed in a band, around their finger.

Okay now you’re both crying.

The after party is one hell of a show. Even if the venue, the food, the DJ aren't expensive, Whitney and their friends make it so that it isn't dull.

The best man’s speech is embarrassing for both of you, whether its your best friend (Robin, probably) or Whitney’s recounting something like you two stabbing at each other with protractors in Maths.

At one point you hear Whitney’s friends congratulate them. Telling them its okay they cried, they’re all happy for them.

The honeymoon? The place you got married in the first place. And you’re going to recreate the photos from the night, too.

Whipped cream and strawberries. Whitney covers you in it, licks it off and is eager to try other food-related kinks with you.

Whitney is very happy they didn’t run.

[its-real]

I was going to wait until I had finished doing all the concept sketches for this but uh, I’m lazy so here take it as it is I’ll keep adding surely surely.

-LONG POST-

AU where the hermits fall into the boatem hole with no way to fly out because of some event that happens - maybe an apocalypse, maybe everyone just goes apeshit, who knows - and they all get messed up heads from falling in the void and passing out n fun stuff like that. They ‘land’ - idk how this would work without them dying lol - in a semi futuristic city which for now let’s just call it Boateqm (silent q). The hermit crabs would also fall at different rates therefore appear in the city at different times. So where do they end up?

Hospital gang:

Etho wakes up in a hospital bed with no memories - most of them will wake up with no memories btw - his doctor/nurse (this hospital may be understaffed) Tango asks him a bunch of questions then has to go see another patient. Etho is seen by a certain Bdubs who had just finished visiting his buddy Scar -will get to him next- in the bed next door. Bdubs walks back to notify Scar, a fashion designer, that the guy in the bed across would make a great model, just look at the striking hair! And the red eye! He opens the curtains on the side and Scar gets a look. He asks if Etho would like to be hired. Etho is to say the least very confused and on the verge of a panic attack that never quite seems to happen so he’s in a weird kind of limbo anyway it is now that his doctor/nurse Tango comes back and having overheard the conversation suggests it would be a good idea. The hospital can only take custody of Etho for so long, might as well start earning money now so he doesn’t become homeless. Etho is still very confused. So Tango just agrees to the job for him as his caretaker lol, and besides Scar comes here kinda often so Tango trusts him. Anyway Etho’s true passions he discovers are synthesisers, breeding horses with Bdubs and finding elaborate ways to do tax evasion. A simple man.

Scar is in the hospital because he got SCAR (hehe) from walking into a glass door in his super fancy house, which he owns because he’s a super fucking rich fashion designer of his own label Scara (this is not the first time he’s walked into a glass door). Scar refuses to go to a rich people hospital tho cause 1) he cares about healthcare and wants more funds to go to lower grade hospitals 2) Tango is his mate, and needs a goddam raise. But yeah, very successful, ran for mayor once but someone really didn’t like that which resulted in another hospital visit. Mans in the wars. One hospital visit he got really inspired by the fabric and stuff there so he had a line of clothes that were hospital inspired one time, in turn making hospital inspired garb very trendy for a bit. What a mad lad. Ideas man. Some would call him a genius if he didn’t keep on walking into glass doors n shit. Scar woke up in the back room of a small tailoring shop owned by a nice old couple who took him under their wing. He thanks them in every award speech, and whenever he’s in the area make sure to stop by and give them presents. His side hobby is gardening.

When Tango came to, he was lying on the footpath of a quiet street in the suburbs just out from the main city. Gorgeous day, golden hour, pretty houses, very aesthetic. He also had a leg injury, fuck. So Tango did what anyone would do: hobbled to the nearest house, asked in the nicest way he could under a lot of stress (so he kinda yelled) for a first aid kit, and performed surgery on himself atop the nice families dinner table. The nice family turned out to have called the police and an ambulance, who showed up just as Tango was wrapping up his leg with a bandage and took him away to the police on a stretcher. This debacle got him a leading story on the local newspaper: ‘Man performs surgery on himself after waking up with no memories and a leg injury’. After being questioned by the police, they decide they can’t really charge someone with amnesia and no money with anything like breaking and entering (he did knock and they did let him in) or property damage (blood on the carpet). The paramedics are stunned at his surgery, so they tell the police to take him to the nearest hospital and get him hired there, he could save so many lives. He gets hired by the head doctor after an examination of the surgery. The head doctor doesn’t really care that Tango doesn’t have any records or anything, the hospital is understaffed and Tango seems like an Angel sent down from the heavens to him. Tango is very very good at his job. So good that he gets offered a job at a far better paying hospital which he takes, then soon drops because he prefers the chaos of his old job much better.

Tango found Impulse extremely dehydrated, looking like death, wandering outside his flat one night, so he carried the man inside and saved his life. Now they are flat mates, and Impulse works in a tech store - an upgrade from working at a service station previously.

Bdubs woke up in an inner city park at night, homeless, broke, and in the company of other homeless and broke people. He built his way to success, got luckily hired by some rich asshole to mow their lawns plural - the rich asshole didn’t ask much questions, he just saw a poor man criticising the way a park had been landscaped to an old guy in a caravan and though it was good enough, seeing as the last one quit - and Bdubs didn’t mind too much, because the rich assholes property was really gorgeous. Once Bdubs was able to say he had work experience and wasn’t homeless he started babysitting the kids in the neighbourhood, pretty good money. Plus the kids love him, and everyone he meets loves him, he's just a nice guy. He met Scar because he had to purchase a suit for a kids birthday party, so he went to the cute little tailors shop he always walked past on the way to his favourite cute little gardening supplies shop. By now Bdubs had been promoted to part time gardener - the job is shared - and started working on and off at a building firm. They become besties, turns out Scar is also really into gardening etc etc. Eventually Bdubs becomes an architect, mainly designing for city contractors n such but occasionally designer homes, like the one he did for Scar.

Mumbo and Grian wake up in the hospital around the same time that Etho is still there, however Etho has been awake longer, and should really find a place to stay soon now that he’s got a steady job. Since - ok plot point here - the two are in the exact situation that Etho found himself in, he starts to feel like something weird is going on. Mumbo and Grian take a lot longer to recover than Etho did, and the two become hospital bed neighbor buddies. When they finally recover Scar offers them a temporary place to stay at his house while they find work. Tango gets Impulse to put in a good word for Mumbo at his work.

Nomads:

TFC is an old man who lives in a caravan off the money he made being a very successful miner, he now collects pretty shiny rocks and gems and stuff to give to kids. He’s like an all year round caravan Santa and wise old mystical figure. Dope.

Joe is a humble man who likes to wander. He’s never had a home, but if he needs anything he’ll go to TFC’s caravan or a homeless shelter or something. But he isn’t sad or anything, he really likes the freedom of being a simple wanderer.

Others:

Keralis is a business partner of Bdubs. Kerlalis is mega stonks. He was one of the first to land, had a big diamond in his pocket, bought shares in a company that blew up soon after and now he is really fucking rich.

Doc and Ren are the only ones who remember anything, and they arrive at the same time. Doc manages to keep his cool, but Ren loses his shit and gets thrown in a mental institution. Doc spends some time trying to get Ren out, and after a final success and laying low for a bit the two seek to bring all the hermits together.

Pearl ends up working in Bdubs building company.

Beef works in a music shop -sells records and instruments- and he starts up a record label out back after his boss retires and passes the shop onto him.

And yeah I don’t really know the other Hermits that well was hoping some of ya’ll could help me find places for them in this city :) don’t really know how to format this either so maybe some input would be nice, just wanted to get the idea out hehehe

[attllhak]

Flora’s Musings

So, here’s the WingAU fic I mentioned. It’s the first one I wrote and features the fun trope of “The Unreliable Narrator That Is History”, which I had a lot of fun with.

I, don’t have a tag list for this AU at this point. So, this part is just my preamble I guess. So, preamble over, here’s the fic.

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

Zelda ran her fingertips between her shoulder blades. She tried not to think about what wasn’t there.

Her wings would come in, she hoped, no she knew they would. They had to. As the princess fated to stop Calamity Ganon it was her duty to unlock her sealing powers, face him, and earn her wings.

It was why she was down here now, in the hidden and secret library they’d excavated. No one cared about this area of the castle, but Zelda loved it there. It was so full of knowledge, and there were records about the Queens and Princesses of the past, ones who had wings themselves.

It was certainly a good excuse to hide down there and do research.

There weren’t many documents on the founders of Hyrule, but she’d translated a few of the ancient texts and had learned much. Apparently her powers came from the fact she was descended from Hylia herself! There were exactly three paintings of her down there, and all of them were old and weathered. Two, one of her alone and one next to her husband, the first King of Hyrule, who was holding the Master Sword, his own wings giving him away as the first of Link’s incarnations, were so old almost all of the colour was gone. The last one, however, had been tucked into a book and, protected from the elements, retained some of its colour.

The goddess reborn had gold wings, bright and shining and as beautiful as everyone expected them to be. Her Hero, however, had red wings, a bright crimson with soft gold flight feathers. What was more, this painting seemed to depict them in their downtime, the goddess still dressed up and all, but leaning over the edge of her throne. Her Hero sat on the dias and leaned against the throne, and was messing with something in his hands that the goddess seemed to be watching, though age obscured what it was. It was entirely unprofessional and sweet, and it made Zelda happy. It made them seem less like untouchable figures of pure good and more like real people. She liked that they were people too.

There was only one picture of the next Queen, and it was so old and weathered that Zelda was scared to touch it lest it crumble into dust. This queen had smaller wings, though Zelda couldn’t tell what colour they were supposed to be. Her Hero was there too, and he had four wings, and Zelda couldn’t be sure but it almost seemed like each wing was a different colour. She couldn’t find any other record of these two, and so she’d taken a picture of the image on the Sheikah Slate to preserve it. This painting was important.

One of the Queens came from the point in history called the Split, a strange period of several thousand years where very different events happened at the same time. They had, through the records in the castle libraries and the temples across Hyrule, figured out this Queen had lived three different recorded lives. Regardless, she always looked the same, or similar at least, in all of her lives. She was a warrior, and her wings, indigo and white and flecked with gold, were always held in a way that showed pride.

Her Hero wasn’t always with her, in two of her lifetimes she ruled alone. In one of them, her Hero had died trying to fight Ganon, and was buried with wings wrapped about him, as was traditional for Heroes and their Queens. The Queen had been Princess then, the books say, and was only 17. I made Zelda uneasy, Link had turned 17 just a few months ago, and her 17th birthday was fast approaching. To think the Hero of Time could die at 17 made her worried for her own Hero. The next of the two he just, wasn’t there. There was no record of the Hero after he defeated Ganon, he just vanished without a trace. Zelda still wanted to know why. The last life gave the most information on the Hero, but he wasn’t listed as a Hero at all. There was no fight in this life, just peace and a failed arrest. As far as historians could tell, this was the most accurate life of hers, but Zelda wasn’t so sure. After all, she and the head of her Royal Guard both had wings. Something had to have happened. These were the only records of the Hero of Time where his wings were visible. A beautiful metallic copper, with darker bronze flight feathers. He seemed to keep them close to his body, like he didn’t want anyone to pay attention to him or them. He apparently married a farm girl in this life.

There were different heirs in each of these lives. For the first life the Queen was a fighter, one with all kinds of magic at her fingertips. Her wings were pink and red, and when she spread them a little bit of gold could be seen at the base of them. This was a Queen who never shied away from the many, many issues her people faced. And many issues there were, records argued whether the number of quests her Hero went on was five or six or twelve. He seemed grumpy in every painting, but after seven-ish quests Zelda would be too. His wings were pink, a million different shades at once. He also seemed to prefer long tunics or dresses to pants. Apparently he didn’t like pants.

After them came a pair of Queens. Zelda initially thought they were cousins, but apparently one was the other’s ancestor, as bizarre as that was. Only one of the two had wings, a soft amber or honey colour, a safe, warm brown. The Princess didn’t have wings, but was no less important if the records and paintings were to be believed. Their Hero didn’t look like much, but his wings, a deep, dark green with earthy brown flight feathers, told of his heroics enough that his looks didn’t have to. Records said he married the Princess, but they never had children, instead helping the Queen raise her bastard twins as a group. Zelda wondered if perhaps the three had all been together, so to speak, and the twins were actually his.

In the second life, there was only one heir, a woman who was named ‘Tetra’ and not Zelda. Her wings were blue, with red separating the blue from gold flight feathers. It was a beautiful colour. Her Hero was usually pictured at her side, his silver tipped sea foam green feathers shining next to her. Those two were always painted outside, and usually on a boat of some kind.

Following the timeline that was decided to be ‘true’, the Queen following the Queen of Three Lives was her great-granddaughter. Her wings, sleek and graceful, were solid black save for the lowest layer of feathers, which was a soft golden-orange colour. Her Hero was hardly ever at her side, history said he spent most of his time in his home village or on assignments for the Queen. Zelda didn’t know if they didn’t get along, or if he hated the city and castle, or why it was that he was never around his Queen, but there was only one painting of him next to her. His wings were big, wide and strong, a range of soft oranges with a rare black feather scattered across them. He also wore a strange charm on a rope around his neck, but no one seemed to know what it was.

The only other Queen, save for the one from 10 000 years ago, was one with a story so outlandish that historians debated on whether or not she was real. She always held a sword or bow in hand, and her wings were either spread for flight or held in close for combat. They were gold, with white flight feathers that seemed to go indigo at the base of each feather. Black flecked the gold, making it obvious she was a fighter. Her Hero was always with her, his wings out behind him, flared up in a show of pride or confidence, a rallying cry for his troops. They fought in a war, so the records claimed. His wings were gold, shiny silver spots scattered over his wings, not dissimilar to the stars in the sky, that made his wings look like they glittered. He was beautiful, as was his Queen, and it was clear that the two were very close.

There weren’t any records on the wings of the Queen 10 000 years ago, nor her Hero, and Zelda didn’t know why that was. Perhaps those records were lost when the Sheikah split. It was unlikely she would ever know.

Zelda didn’t know when her wings would come in, and some days she feared they never would. It was a comfort at least that Link’s wings hadn’t come in yet either.

He found her a few hours later, bringing her a blanket and some food. He sat with her and politely signed a request for her to read to him. They read all through the night, and Impa found them the next morning, Zelda leaned over the desk with her head on her arms and Link leaning on the side of her desk, head tilted back and drooling. She left them there.

When the Calamity hit and she didn’t get her wings she felt like such a failure, especially since Link’s wings had just broken skin a few moments ago, greyish brown wings that were still all fluff coming through the slits in his tunic designed to accommodate them.

She sat next to him in the Shrine of Resurrection, just before they sealed it. His wings were still small, they had never had the chance to come in fully before he fell. She reached over and brushed hair from his face, watching his relaxed features and ignoring the burns on the rest of his body.

“Don’t worry, Link,” she whispered. “I’ll make sure they’re all safe until you wake up,”

She marched on the castle then, staring down the Calamity and ready to give everything she had to keep him at bay.

She reached forward, holding her hand out to the monster and ready to fight. She could feel the triforce on her hand burn in response, her body spilling a radiant golden light. The monster dove for her, and she held her ground, eyes open and ready to stand and fight.

A push on her shoulders, then the pressure bursting and wings spread out behind her.

Blue and white feathers sat on the ground where she was moments before.

(---)

Link stepped into the castle, tiny wings fluffed up in anxiety and nerves making them quiver. He paused as he moved towards the heart, lifting one foot.

Under his boot, was a pair of blue and white feathers, perfectly preserved from when they fell there 100 years before.