#anger is one of the things almost better visually because I suppose it's about the action that comes out of it

[divinekangaroo]

There's also this joy in sk’s incredibly claustrophobic feeling settings and scenes, compared/contrasted with these spheres (or spears) of Tommy's global influence or influences coming through, because that, too, is a compelling juxtaposition. Tommy's horrors/hauntings by the man in the shadows (so close, in his house, at his heels, coming into his territory, invading, all the while it's the man [in the constituency] next door) while there's this weight and horror of global war on the horizon. (And I think about: if Mosley *doesn’t* go down, Tommy’s brokering of the IRA, American and Mosley’s connection might have been a very large part of Mosley's success? I mean, talk about a gamble...)

Anyway, I do like writing my fic!Mosley constantly slagging Tommy with the label domestic all while Tommy’s sitting there *seething*

[mrsdarkandyandere7]

BNHA Boys: 1st Time Noncon

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

Female Reader

Boys -> Hawks + Dabi + Bakugo

Warnings at each part (but the title is quite explicit, right?) + NSFW Link (be careful + on twitter (you need a account to see)

AN: Please, reblog and give me feedback + Gimme ideas

–

Hawks

-> Manipulation

Keigo is a cunning guy, always looking out for a way to get things done his way. He’s used to tricking people, using his tactics to reach his desired goals. But honestly? You have to be the biggest chump he’s ever met in his life. 

Did you actually believe when he deeply sighed and pretended to relent to your begging, just before meekly offering you to walk away from him?

Did your ingenuous self really trust him when Keigo swore on his hero honor - what honor really? - that he’d let you go home, safe and sound?

But the reality is that you fell for it, like a bee attracted to honey. It’s moments like those that Keigo acknowledges how naive and kind-hearted you are. Too cute and good for this twisted, cruel world. 

So that’s why a minor part of him is almost satisfied at the reluctance and doubt that shades your pretty face when he tells you the inflated price for your freedom.  

You clearly don’t want to sleep with him. Your attempts to bargain are immediately turned down and it takes less than five minutes for you to crumble down. 

Keigo almost feels bad at your distressed teary face. But hey, a win is a win.

You try to relax when he starts kissing and touching you. To be calm when he slowly starts making love to you.

But it feels so dead wrong and the overwhelming realization that Hawks was lying about letting you go finally hits you like a brick and you try to push him away, pointlessly make him get off from you. 

But no point in that cause Keigo isn’t gonna let you go anywhere. 

“Deal’s off, babe. I mean, I was willing to let you go and all, but since you ruined the whole mood…there was no need to fight me, ya know? I wasn’t forcing you into anything, was I? But since you broke your promise, I suppose I’m gonna have to keep you here with me.”

(VISUAL)

Dabi

-> Noncon

Dabi isn’t one to shy away from what he wants.

He takes what he wants, when he wants and how he wants and you don’t get any say in it. 

So, if for a moment you actually believed you could argue or convince the black-haired villain to leave you alone, then you’re not up for a great start with him. 

Dabi doesn’t care when you start crying, spirit battered over the small burns he gives you for trying to fight back. He doesn’t care for your wails of pain when he fucks you in the way he wants to. 

Dabi is sadistic like that, he actually enjoys the terror that floods your entire face when he explains in extensive detail all the scary lustful needs he wants to fulfill by using you. 

He’s definitely one to use tight ropes to bend you in uncomfortable positions when fucking you - just because they allow him better access and less struggle from you.

Doesn’t give a crap about your wellbeing or if you get to cum, those are unnecessary thoughts for him. 

As long as Dabi gets to end his night with a few orgasms, he’s good. 

“Oh sweetheart, there’s no point in begging. That’s not gonna change my mind. And can you even blame me? Just look at you, such a pretty body you have. You’re just too tempting to let go and trust me, I’m not planning to.”

(VISUAL)

Bakugo

-> Forced Oral - (male receiving)

Bakugo has mild-anger issues and everyone knows that so, if anything, it was entirely your fault for provoking the anger out of him. 

You saw an opportunity to try an escape and you took it, even though it was meant to fail miserably.

Bakugo ends up wrestling you back inside the house, tightly clutching your hair as he angrily shouts at how much of an ungrateful brat you are.

He’s so damn pissed that you almost got away that he can’t control himself. All the adrenaline and anger mixing up in his blood and all he wants is to teach you a proper lesson. Scare you into submission. Make sure that you’ll never act up again.

His hands are cruel as he roughs you up a bit, ignoring your scared shrieks. 

But the real punishment is the way he fucks your mouth.

His pace is so insanely fast, demanding and brutal, and he carries on without caring for the numerous times you gag and choke around his length, unable to pull away because of the vice grip he has on your scalp.

The way he facefucks you is humiliating and brutal, and the cherry on top of the cake is when Bakugo shoots his sticky cum all over your face before leaving you bruised up and with a hurting throat.

Afterwards, Bakugo might feel a bit bad because that’s definitely not how he planned your first time doing something intimate together, but on the bright side - you get much more obedient and calm towards him. 

“The hell you giving me that pathetic look for, huh. You fuckin’ deserved that and you know that. Had you not acted all lunatic and none of this would’ve happened.”

(VISUAL)

[relatableblorbopoll]

Round 1 of preliminaries, group 5

The first two places get a place on the bracket

Little reminder: there will be 2 more rounds of preliminaries, the losing blorbos of this poll still have 2 chances of getting in the official bracket

Propaganda under the cut

Melissa Chase (Milo Murphy’s Law)

"Her self worth is entirely based on her grade point average and getting straight As. She can’t remember anything, ever (specific examples include forgetting her maths book regularly, her student pass for the subway, and how many days are in February). However, she CAN remember the blood type of every president. She is terrible at throwing She gets visually upset when she realises that a plan was changed last minute, and that an academic event she expected to do well in was combined with a sporting event, giving no time to prepare for the new event She freaks OUT when she thinks she’s going to disappoint her headteacher- she doesn’t seem to expect to be given any actual punishment, just that the headteacher will be disappointed and think that she’s irresponsible She has a whole conspiracy room in her house dedicated to researching her best friend’s medical condition- Murphy’s Law being an interest that she is clearly very passionate about and interested in. she does all of that and still can’t remember her maths book. relatable queen her ambition in life is to be a “journalist, and queen of the universe” "

Candace Flynn (Phineas and Ferb)

"A ball of stress and anxiety. She's always angry because nobody listens to her, cares about her feelings, or believes her about anything, which tbh is like the quintessential teenage girl experience. Secretly just wants her parents to recognise and appreciate her."

V-Flower (Vocaloid)

"they believe that people only care about them when they are in pain"

Ciaphas Cain (Warhammer 40k)

"Don't let the sharp jawline and the mutton-chops fool you: Ciaphas Cain has no idea what he's fucking doing and would very much like to not be here right now. He is a high-ranking Commissar, essentially a walking morale boost for Imperial Guard soldiers and one of the only symbols of hope in the grimdark Warhammer 40k universe. He also has no idea how he got the job or how to get the hell out. Commissar Cain spends all his time accidentally doing magnificent bastard things while trying to run away from danger and dying inside. Over the course of his books, he's named Hero of the Imperium, has a hot mommy inquisitor fall in love with him, and saves hundreds of planets per panic attack he has. His cowardice and impostor syndrome are second only to my own, and that's why he's just like me fr."

Percy Jackson (Percy Jackson series)

"he's got big no thoughts head empty energy! he loves his friends and girlfriends SO much (more most YA characters, i think; he would have no qualms about sacrificing the world to save the people he loves, which goes against the typical hero). he is almost always ready to fight a bitch. he has adhd and accidentally says things he shouldnt all the time (but this has made him good at problem-solving, bc he creates a LOT of problems for himself)"

MK (Lego Monkie Kid)

"Oooooh boy where do I begin. MK the Monkie Kid is the protagonist of the story but he has *so many issues*. He wants to be a good person but has a whole lot of impostor syndrome and is convinced he will only hurt people the more he tries to save them. He is convinced that every major villain in the show is his fault, even as far as misremembering/changing up some events to put blame onto himself He also has an absent mentor figure that was supposed to help him but guess what he had to figure out all his powers on his own so abandonment issues go brrrr. He has so much anger toward his mentor Wukong but he just *bottles it all up* (common theme) Also he is so trans and adhd coded. First, MK is a nickname. We don’t know his real name, but it is v much implied he used to go by something else. He and his friends also puts a lot of emphasis on manly stuff like ‘I’m a big boy!’/‘he’s a Monkie *Man*!!!’/‘im the smartie boy, the plan man!’ He also has trouble focusing and listening to other people, is sometimes blunt and he is VERY interested in Sun Wukong and the journey to the west (Chinese classical novel that the show is based on) and just in general always needs constant reassurance and support from his friends. He is often compartmentalizing his feelings and internalizes a lot of fear and blame is also suppressing a part of himself that scares him. (Which, same) He loves his friends so much and tries so hard to keep them all safe, even hiding his own problems and worries from them as an attempt to protect them. He wants to go back to season 1, back when each episode was a villain-of-the-week kinda story, with no world-destroying threats. But nope, he saw the horrors, and he can never go back to the bubbly Monkie Kid from the beginning. Also he is terrified of spiders :>"

[sunny6677]

Strebers Rehearsal Rewrite for The Saturated AU!! (Since it's the shortest one, I figured I'd get over with rambling about this one first lmao)

( @catsockpuppet @mayisgoingnuts )

So it opens up with Streber actually taking apart some different supplies (from the last Haunted House he did), and then kind of looking down at them with a frustrated expression, before suddenly growing even more angry and practically ripping them apart—and grumbling to himself angrily about the Haunted House until he's practically screaming (with there being like fire in the backround just as a visual way of showing his anger). Then the lights come on—and show his friends looking at him in the back.

Ethan appears worried–while the others just seem confused or unamused.

Awkwardly, as Liv watches with a smug smirk and Leon has a very confused but somewhat amused expression on his face, Ethan nervously speaks up. "Uh.. hey, I know this is your job and all, but.. aren't you kinda stressing yourself out about this a bit much? You kinda just finished working on everything for this year anyway—"

Streber practically then marches up to Ethan, gesturing with his hand. "Ethan—Ethan.. listen. Listen. You—you don't get it. Kids are getting harder and harder to impress every year—" He then whips around as Ethan just sighs.

Streber continues to rant, while his friends either watch with amused expressions or unamused expressions (with Ethan being the only one who seems exhausted/worried) "Everything this year needs to be perfect so no brats go complaining to their parents about how 'scary' the house was even though it's supposed to be a Haunted House!"

He whips around again, placing his glasses on his face with a stern expression. "And that goes for you guys too. Okay? Okay."

He turns back to his desk with a stern expression as Aria let's out a long sigh. "..yeah.. sure. Whatever, Streber."

Leon then begins to dust some more makeup on his hand, while Ethan watches with mild anxiety—and at some point Leon notices, and attempts to slam the powder into Ethans face. He fails, but giggles about what he almost did anyway as Ethan flinches back in alarm. Confi then practically yells while gesturing with her hands, "Hey, how well do you think its gonna go this year?!". Leon and her have a muffled, off-screen convo. Leon tells her to basically shut up at some point during it lmao. Aria also just looks at herself boredly in her mirror.

As Streber faces his desk, he says, "Alright, listen.. I have a lot to work on. So—I'd say it's better you probably all leave." As he says this, he makes a unamused/impatient face at Liv who is taking photos of herself as she stands in the mirror, and gently shoves her away. Liv makes a slightly offended face but slowly stumbles away while rolling her eyes.

Blaz practically runs after Confi as she leaves the room while giggling to himself. Aria takes a look at Ethan who nervously smiles at her, but Ethan is then startled by Leon suddenly jumping out, and nearly bumps into Aria in the process. Leon laughs because he managed to scare Ethan, and acts all smug/high and mighty about it. Ethan shoots him a look that basically says "..uhh.. hah.. nice scare, dude" while giving a thumbs up.

Streber then sternly says, "I've been working on this since last night. I feel like I just got beaten up or something cuz of how exhausting this is." He pinches the bridge of his nose as he says this.

Leon then begins to walk out of the room quickly, but gives Ethan a rough pat on the back as he does so and laughs about it. Aria rolls her eyes at this, while Ethan just gets startled again by the sudden pat, but just sighs and follows after Leon. "..well, okay. We'll leave you to it then."

"Sheesh, what's with you? It's not that important, is it?" Leon asks, seeming confused at why Streber is so damn worked up about this whole thing.

"Eh, don't worry." Liv smugly says, "He always does this. He'll probably flip out over the Haunted House not being completely perfect and have a total meltdown over it again."

This makes both Liv and Leon giggle while Ethan rolls his eyes sadly. But then Streber grabs a whole ass ruler from on his desk, and nearly hits them. Ethan protects them from getting hit while they both go completely quiet, and Streber makes a stern face.

He snarls, and then says, "By leave—I mean go!" He snaps his fingers impatiently, turning to his desk. "Now!"

Leon and Liv become irritated at him, and just grumble about how impatient he is and about how he didn't used to be so stern about this kind of thing. Ethan walks off with them silently. And it pans on a scribbled out photo of Streber graduating in Highschool.

[jamisonwritestf2trash]

may i request sniperscout angst, specifically hcs about how theyd handle eachotjers deaths in a no-respawn au

SniperScout Angst Headcanons (No Respawn AU)

————————————————————

Of course you can! Even though it breaks my heart because I love Sniperscout sm 😭 Also almost back to back Scout angst, what did this man do to you people?

————————————————————

Uh, a little off-topic, but I feel like Sniper and Scout are Nick and Gatsby, I don't know. Is that weird? Like sure, we know Sniper talks to his parents, but I feel like his mom would be the only one to come while Scout planned the entire funeral. Anyway, on to the actual headcanons!

————————————————————

Scout locked himself in Snipers van. Bearly eating or drinking, he won't talk to anyone. He just lays on the bed, holding on to anything that could remind him of Sniper. He's not even just heartbroken. It's more than that. It's like his soul was ripped out of his body. He just wants to be able to hold him one more time, to tell him he loves him one more time, to live the life they were supposed to, just one more time. He keeps his hat and sunglasses close at all times. He never let's them go, and no one is ever allowed to touch them. He even attaches his van keys to his dog tags.

Once he gets back to normal, or as normal as he could be after losing someone who meant so much to him, he's ruthless in battle. Every kill he gets is for Sniper. Everything he does is for Sniper. He also goes to either his grave or where his ashes are kept after every battle, bringing a gift of some kind to place next to him, and then telling him about the day he had.

"I really gave them hell to day Snipes. You should have seen it." He let's out a sigh and kisses the top of the urn/gravestone.

————————————————————

Sniper would also lock himself in his van. It's never been so cold, so empty, so forgin to Sniper. Scout had added a sense of life to the van, and that was extinguished the day he died. He misses Scout's jokes, his smile, his laugh, and just everything Scout did. He made the world brighter for Sniper. He really just feels lost. He's never really felt a pain like this. He can barely breathe most days, and if you thought he was quiet before, he's dead silent now. He took Scout's dogtags, and he wears them every day.

Eventually, he gets the willpower to join the battle again. He's never gotten more kills in his life. Blood has stained the field more than ever. He visualizes every enemy as the one who killed Scout. He pours all his anger and sadness into his job. He visits the grave/urn a lot, knowing this is the closest he'll be to Scout ever again, so he spends most of his time near the urn or grave.

"I miss ya more than words can say." He says. (He also kisses the gravestone/urn)

————————————————————

OUGH HAPPY TIME BECAUSE I NEED TO ADD IT OR I'LL CRY!!! Basically, how they react if Medic brought them back (before being cremated or buried, obviously)

————————————————————

Scout is immediately throwing himself on Sniper, holding him tighter than humanly possible. Babbling about how he'll never let him go again, tears flowing freely as he jokes that if Sniper ever pulls a stunt like that, Scout will be his cause of death. Scout probably smothered this man with jokes, kisses, and cuddles that entire night. He's so thankful he got a second chance, and he makes sure Sniper knows that Scout will never take a moment with him for granted again.

————————————————————

Sniper runs up to Scout, asking him a million and one questions, all basically asking the same thing. Are you okay? And to Snipers relief, Scout is better than okay. Sniper is crying under his glasses, Scout only reaches up to pull them off and kiss his face. He hugs Scout so tight he knocks the air out of his lungs. Scout, let's out a soft chuckle, hugging him back. Sniper spends the night being the most emotional he's ever been. These two love each other so much it's insane.

————————————————————

Uh, the end! Ough I hope you don't mind the happy ending Anon. I'm a sucker for sweet endings :,) I hope you guys liked this, and I feel really hyped, i think I'm finally back into writing again, I missed it. I think I wore myself out for a hot minute, but I'm back! Anyways, hopefully, at least one or two new posts after this :)

Love you guys, and thank you for being patient with me 💖💖

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

So this fic may only be canon up to Malevolent 29, but...

I'd say some recent issues are working their way in anyway, wouldn't you? ^_^

(Fic still in progress, largely unedited, etc.)

(This scene is after so much drama, and they are wandering around the King's palace, stuck until someone decides to let them out. They're in the cookie jar for later, folks.)

(John has not benefited from hanging out with his older self, and has been nudged into some inappropriate behavior. Good luck getting him to SEE that, though.)

--------

Arthur isn’t okay that they’re in a glowing blue garden.

The last time they were someplace like this, things had gone very, very wrong. 

They’d fought each other - worse than they ever had, saying things neither of them could ever take back. They’d been captured, and dumped into the prison pits for months, and Arthur had defended himself against a cannibalistic murderer by committing murder and then cannibalism. None of it was okay, none of it was dealt with, none of it was a thing he’d ever want to think about again, but here they are, and John won’t stop talking.

It’s comforting. The blue light from the fungus might have some unseen properties; it’s calming, I’d say intentionally. There are benches here and there along the black gravel path, human-height, clearly designed to be inviting.

“Mm,” says Arthur.

Perhaps the fungus is better tended here, or maybe it’s merely part of the same genus, but it is a different plant. There are leaves, Arthur; leaves, and an occasional flower, unlike any I’ve known - shaped a little like lavender, but cascading down like weeping willows. The light is soft and gentle. I get the impression the walls, covered as they are in living things, might be soft to the touch. Arthur, are you listening?

“Mm,” says Arthur.

There is a pond of sorts in the center; not big enough to be called anything else, yet its clarity and stillness give an impression of great depth, says John, sounding significantly less calm. It is somehow silver in spite of the blue light; it doesn’t reflect as much as I’d expect, but remains so clear, so perfect, like the moment between breaths. The position of benches makes me think one is supposed to sit and contemplate it, perhaps think deep inside it, perhaps learn to be as still.

“Mm,” says Arthur.

What the fuck is wrong with you?

“Are you done?” Arthur wants out. He’s afraid. Deeply afraid. Keeping that barely under control with anger.

There is a pause. This isn’t like before, Arthur. We aren’t in immediate danger.

“Right. Right. Of course. Are you done?”

Another pause. Arthur. We need to talk.

“You know, John, you keep saying that, and it keeps being as absurd as it was the first time you said it. No we don’t, and we need to find Martin and his Jon. Which direction do I go?”

Yet another pause. Arthur doesn’t understand what’s going on with those. They’ve been happening since he woke up in that weird, luxurious bed.

Maybe John is consulting documentation, haha. Arthur gets the imaginary visual a manual labeled, RUINED HUMAN (MODEL: ARTHUR LESTER) INSTRUCTION BOOK.

John makes a sort of choked sound, as if he almost laughed.

“Oh, what is it now?” Arthur snaps. 

I refuse to go any further until we work some of this out! John snaps, his basso profundo bolstered by his contrabass growl.

“Are you bloody serious?”

Yes! Do you know how bad it would have been if he’d been who we feared today? Do you have any idea? And we wouldn’t have been prepared because we hadn’t talked about it!

“We most certainly have talked about it,” says Arthur in a light, pleasant voice he can barely believe he’s producing. “We already know what we would do: fight to the death. That’s all.”

NO.

Arthur stiffens. “No? No?”

John is puffing away in his head, sounding like an angry bull.

“You want to talk about it? Fine! We’ll sit here until the King changes his mind, or decides to distill us into some kind of stew, or opts to send some fucking animal after us to hunt us down for sport! Is that what you want? Fine! Then we’ll do that!” Wild with stubbornness, Arthur storms in his best guessed direction for a bench, and he rams right into one.

His shin does not thank him.

“Ow! Fucking damn it! That’s your fault.”

Arthur!

Arthur sits, well aware he’s flouncing onto the stone bench the way Faroe would during a tantrum, but utterly unable to stop. “What?” 

I can’t lose you again!

Arthur goes completely still, and John is amazed at all he can feel.

The flutter of Arthur’s heart; the twist in his stomach; the way his hand clenches and unclenches; the way his back straightens, stiffens, aches.

The way his eyes blink rapidly, because they are wet, and he doesn’t want John to know.

The taste in his mouth has changed - metallic, now, somehow an anxious flavor, and Arthur is also producing more saliva. Even his balls have tightened, as if to withdraw into his body.

Arthur exhales slowly. “You won’t lose me.”

You don’t know that! He… the King… 

“What, John?” And anger rises, narrowing Arthur’s eyes, tightening his jaw. “He did do something to you, didn’t he?”

And here was the perfect segue.

John was going to tell him about the thought-reading thing eventually, but it wasn’t a segue for that. No - this was an attempt to correct an error before it came back to bite them on the ass.

In the wake of everything, John had forgotten that Kayne threatened him with the knowledge of who the King in Yellow truly was.

John had lied about it. He had to cut the legs out from under this one before it had a chance to return.

He wasn’t even sure why he’d lied about it in the first place. Shame, maybe? Is that what this was? I need to tell you something. About the King in Yellow. About who he really is. And yes, he did do something to me. He showed me your death. Your counterpart’s death. Arthur, I… 

Arthur has grabbed John’s hand and is holding it. “That’s horrible. John, I’m so sorry. Why would he do that?”

He wasn’t trying to be cruel. He was trying to warn me. Trying to make sure we don’t make the same mistakes he did.

Arthur isn’t getting it. “What? How could you make the mistakes he did? We’re not even in his world. Fucking asshole.”

John briefly wishes he knew how to calm Arthur the way his counterpart had, then pushes the thought aside. That’s too far. That’s too much. He won’t do that. I… I lied to you, Arthur. I panicked. I didn’t want you to judge me, to… to hate me. And I lied.

Funny, how Arthur’s eyes still widen in response even though he can’t see anything out of them.

Funny, too, how the panic has ebbed, transformed into concern for John - and now, it’s getting a little prickly around the edges. “All right. When did you lie?”

About who the King in Yellow is. He is the King in Yellow, but I… 

“Is he Yellow?” Arthur guesses. “That would explain… but what happened to the original? Where is he?”

Dead. Killed by this one’s hand. But no, he isn’t Yellow.

“This one killed the King?” Arthur is staggered; then, disturbingly, he’s jealous.

It’s hard to see thoughts with Arthur like this, under waves of cloudy water and emotion, but John still gets the feeling that Arthur wishes he could kill the part of himself that must be responsible for everyone dying, everyone leaving, everything going so wrong.

John knew that was why Arthur wanted to kill Larson, why he’d gone apeshit on Uncle. Sure, he knew.

But this is a lot more self-loathing than he’d realized was there.

It runs deep. Right to Arthur’s core, and that palimpsest conversation comes back to John’s mind. That guilt is dangerous. Poisonous. Damaging.

Oh, this was not going to be allowed, no it was not, but John isn’t sure yet just how to make it stop.

“John?”

He’s waited too long again. John tells himself to focus. Arthur, what am I?

Arthur is confused. “What? You… you’re John. You’re my friend.”

I am your friend. But Arthur, that’s not what I asked you. What am I?

Arthur is genuinely confused. “Irritating?”

Arthur!

Arthur sighs and rubs his face. “I don’t know what you want from me, John.”

Yes, you do. He gentles his tone. I didn’t ask you who I was. I asked you what I was.

Arthur genuinely does not understand that John is, always was, the King, and he simply is not getting it. “Bored, maybe? John, is this really what you wanted to talk about? You said you lied.”

Fuck the gentle approach. He couldn’t stay here doing this for hours. I am the King in Yellow, Arthur - and the King in Yellow is me.

Arthur’s mind goes as blank as if he’d unplugged it from the wall. 

Arthur.

“You… what?”

John has a wicked idea.

Is it wicked, really? It’s just the truth. But saying now, when Arthur is in shock -

It will plant itself in him.

And John wants it to. The King in Yellow in this place is me without you.

“Y… you…what?” Arthur’s brain tries to start up again like a faulty engine, grumbling and stalling.

I lied because I was so afraid you’d judge me by what he’d done. That you’d… hate me for it. Arthur, I… I’m sorry.

John tells himself to stop there. Overselling it wouldn’t help.

And Arthur is tearing up properly now. “John…”

It is so damned hard to wait.

To let the seed take root.

To sit in silence and feel Arthur churning, balancing anger, betrayal, shock, love, hope, the choice of forgiveness, fear, loneliness, knowledge, against what he thinks he knows.

John hadn’t considered before how often Arthur has to choose his response in any given moment. 

There’s so much in there. So many emotions, so many conflicting beliefs, so much chaos and shame and anger. John is beginning to regret not taking the King up on the offer to just sit in Arthur’s head for a while when it was still clear.

“John. I forgive you.”

Oh, Arthur…

“I think I understand why you lied. And that you told me before I found out somehow, not because you had to, but because you chose to - that’s important. Thank you.”

Though he’s afraid now just how much he can trust John.

Though he’s afraid the King did something to make John lie.

Though he’s afraid.

Arthur, seeing what became of, me without you has…

Arthur waits.

I’m not okay.

He is, though.

Arthur is his. And while Arthur might not think of it in those words, exactly, he’s leaning into that choice.

“John.” Arthur squeezes his hand again. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m not thrilled you lied, but I understand why. I suppose you’ve seen the worst of yourself today, and it must have been frightening.”

Arthur is thinking it must be like when he saw Larson.

Oh; oh, it’s not like that.

John has zero problems with how his alternate self turned out. He can see the reasons behind every decision this other-him made.

But he’s still going to make different ones. Why? He won’t lose his Arthur. You forgive me.

“I do.”

Arthur…

“Is that what you wanted to talk to me about?”

Y… yes.

“No wonder you’ve been squirrely ever since we got here.” Arthur hasn’t risen yet. “I understand. I don’t envy you, my friend.”

You… you don’t hate me for it?

“Of course not.”

Then I don’t care about him anymore.

Arthur squeezes John’s hand reassuringly. “We might not want to tell Martin and Jon, though. This other you has… hurt that Jon. Badly. I don’t know how they’d respond, and I don’t want to have to try to protect you against Martin’s strength and Jon’s… whatever it is he does.”

Agreed. Though they already know, of course. We can keep exploring now.

“I’m ready.” Arthur stands. Now that he feels like he’s carrying John - metaphorically, not just physically - he is determined.

John can see inside that, too.

Arthur feels like he’s let down every single person he's ever known except for John. (Maybe John, too, but John is still here.) It's like he's trying to make up for a lifetime of failure with this one, good thing.

Mine, thinks John, who hasn’t missed that when doing things for him, Arthur is far more stable than when doing things for himself. Turn right. Now straight. Arthur, I think we won’t get home unless Kayne decides to send us back.

“Well,” says Arthur with a sigh. “He owes us a body, anyway. I suppose we can discuss it when he shows up.” 

The chill of fear that washes down Arthur’s spine with that is so much worse than John expected, and he peers closer.

Left me, Arthur is thinking, literally thinking, left me, leaving me again, and he doesn’t stop thinking it, and doesn’t stop remembering that moment when John left (That’s not what happened! John thinks, uselessly), when John proved that Arthur had suffered so much for no nothing, when John proved that Arthur really would always be alone, alone, alone, and Arthur may have forced John back via Kayne and capriciousness, but it was only for now because John would leave because everybody leaves, everybody always leaves, and - 

“Straight?” says Arthur, not even the tiniest hint of any of that showing up in his voice.

My Arthur is bleeding, John thinks, because he’s going to fix this, find a way to stitch this, though he doesn't know how.

He mentally shouts a thank-you to his alternate self, because he wouldn’t have known about this if not pushed to look inside.

He’s not telling Arthur about that, though. Not yet. Not for a while. He has to gather more information first. It’s logical.

Mine, he thinks again. Straight ahead.

It was not too late to turn this around.

[thegodthief]

The hardest thing to do is to update the website theme for Noxporium, really. I am not a designer and it shows, and I am very concerned that design choices that makes sense to me will anger search engine algorithms or worse, make the site unusable for folks using visual aids.

A long time ago there was a musician who made his music available for free but only if downloaded directly from his website. His website was beautiful. Javascript and Shockwave Flash had just been unleashed upon the naïve masses and there wasn't a single static anything to be had once the site loaded.

But first, it had to load.

And then, it had to run.

And after that, you had to navigate through the digital forests and digital caves to the digital clearing where a disembodied voice told you to click on the flickering digital fire to download ONE of the twelve-track album. After that download finished, you would be sent along another path to reach the next track.

So beautiful.

It triggered the heat alarms on my struggling netbook every time and I couldn't finish the first track download before the system shut down.

I emailed him after watching my netbook shut down for the fifth time after five attempts, explained that the beautiful artistry of the website was causing a thermal issue, and asked if it was possible to step through a less intense version, text only version, or if it was possible to even purchase the entire album in one shot without having to go through the website experience.

I thought the music was worth paying for with cash as I had access to a few of the tracks already and liked them and so was glad to pay.

No, the artist responded. The website experience was integral to the enjoyment of the audio and by the way where did I get the unauthorized tracks from because if I don't tell he's gonna sue me for infringement and if I do tell, he won't sue me but he's gonna sue the person I got the music from.

Naïve as I was, I responded. I told him that I would not divulge my contacts, but, here's the point, I WANTED TO GIVE HIM MONEY FOR HIS MUSIC. But first, the music had to be accessible. Wouldn't he at least consider an accessible version of his website for those that can't see the pretty pictures?

I have forgotten his name. I have forgotten his music. I have forgotten almost everything about this encounter except his response: "People that can't perceive all of my art don't deserve to have any of my art. If you can't afford a better computer that can run my website, then you don't deserve my music because you don't have the culture to appreciate it. If you can't see my website, then you can't see how my music is supposed to be approached. I don't make music for cripples."

Needless to say, not only have I never given him money for his music, but I deleted the tracks and notified the person I got the tracks from. I don't know if he rose to relevance in his corner of the world, because he has been all but scrubbed from mine.

When I made Noxporium, his words came to mind. I wanted the site to be a rebuttal to him. Pleasing to look at, but not to the point where the decorations overwhelmed the text. Easy to navigate with color shifts to highlight, but that color would NOT be required to navigate. Content that would be flagged properly as content so screen readers would not suddenly announce HTML code in the middle of a paragraph. And crucially, the site had to be parsable in a plain-text window.

I found that with the current theme, but I had to tweak it a bit to get the right fonts but that tweak is now broken. The current theme was the Hot Shit™ nine years ago. Because reasons, I need to replace that theme soon.

But for all the whizbangs and doodads and blinken-sparkle-thingies that even the cheapest of current smartphones can successfully load, I still want the site to be accessible. And I want the site to be pleasant. And while I can do the former to a passing degree, I have no idea how to do the latter.

But I tell you what I certainly do: I read cards for everyone. If there is a feature on Noxporium (or on my main blog for that matter) that is not working for you, that you can't access, that is causing problems with your aids please let me know and I will fix it.

I want to make you as comfortable as possible before my cards rip your ego to shreds.

[tiny-necromancer]

Chance fought so hard. He did. He fought when everything in him wanted to give in. Wanted to simply let Wes take him, protect him, keep him safe. But he wasn't safe. He never would be safe. Not as long as his father was alive. He had his blood in his veins. His magic coursing through him. And the sooner Wes realized that the better. But he couldn't. He just couldn't step away from him now. He couldn't leave him now.

And the words. The things that Wes said. They coiled around him like a rope, fastening itself to him. Holding him there. Grounding him some how. Because isn't that was this was about anyway? "No..." He whimpered, clutching Wes's face. His fingers trembling with fatigue and pain. And he just couldn't be strong anymore. The thought of Wes meeting the sun. The visual of it was just too much to bear. "You can't....you won't....not while I still draw breath." And it seemed like the most natural thing. His life. Wes' life. Were intertwined. There wasn't a scenario in this where one of them lived while the other died. Because if anything happened to Wes, Chance would die too. He just would somehow.

There was no other choice than this. No other choice. And oh....the relief that flooded through him brought tears to his eyes and they spilled down his cheeks. Because it meant he got to keep Wes. He got to stay with him. He didn't have to leave him. And he wouldn't leave him. "O-okay...." He stammered, nodding. "Okay...." He fought to keep steady. But it wasn't really working. His vision was starting to swim and the beat of the music was getting too loud. He clung uselessly to Wes. Hoping to ride this out, whatever it was. "Wes..." He breathed. "Wes...something's wrong...."

Caius just shrugged. He didn't want to fight with Sam. Not about something so trivial. Whatever happened to Chance and his vampire. That wasn't on him. He wouldn't take responsibility for that. He would however drag Chance back to Marcus if he had to. Kill the vampire. But. He hoped that wouldn't be necessary, at any rate.

The question made him pause, pressing his lips together. "Because I have to." He said. "I'm on borrowed time anyway. I'm his to kill as he wishes." And it was an automatic response. To a question he'd answered many times. It was practiced. Almost like it had been implanted in his head. And maybe, just maybe it had. But. It was important, above all else that Sam understood him. That he understood his reasoning. "I died. He brought me back. I owe him my life. We're blood bound." Still. A practiced answer. Caius frowned. This for whatever reason wasn't working they way it was supposed to.

He gripped the edge of the bar, so tightly his knuckles turned white. It was a damned compulsion. An implant in his head. A love note from Marcus. His lip curled into a sneer. And it became even more important to him that Sam knew. He forced the words out. Like they were a physical thing. Like they were caught in his throat and he ripped them free. "I tried to leave." He spat. "But he told me something. Told me something that he knew would make me stay. That he knew all along would keep me there. Caleb." When the name fell from his lips, the tension in him seemed to release a bit. "Caleb lives. My brother. He's supposed to help me find my brother."

As Sam continued to speak to him, his eyes fluttered a bit. The initial anger he felt at finding the compulsion dissipated and it left him raw, sort of empty. There was a hole in him. A hole where Caleb was supposed to be. And then he noticed another one. There was another hole. And he didn't know where it had come from at all. Or what it's purpose was. But it just felt really wrong. And he realized with a start, that its where the unsettled feelings had festered. He met Sam's eyes. His throat was threatening to close and he couldn't catch his breath. "What's happening to me...." It came out as a whimper. Because he didn't understand it. And he didn't know what it was. The only thing that was obvious, that meant anything at all, was that Sam was standing there. Something about Sam. Something real. And he'd said he would protect him. Protect Caius? The thought made Caius laugh, and it was a terribly hollow sound.

A warning...

Chance woke with a start. Darkness swirled around him and he had to fight to catch his breath. The pain in his body reminding him about what he'd just endured, and how he ought not to be trying to move just yet.

He rolled onto his side, clutching a pillow to his chest, biting into it to keep from screaming. He felt raw, wide open, like all his internal organs were spilling out of him. But he knew logically that they weren't. Just as he knew the pounding in his head wasn't from anything more sinister then having someone digging around in there with a shovel. And that seemed wrong. That thought. Because why should someone be rooting around in there at all?

Everything came back to him in flashes of images. Flashes of screams. Flashes of blood. There was so much blood. And Desmond. Oh Desmond....Desmond was dead. Tears pricked his eyes and he hugged the pillow tighter.

But then, he remembered something else. Something that wasn't pain or fear. Something that felt...comforting. And it took him only a moment more before he remembered what it was. Who it was. Wes had been there. In his head. Crooning to him. Stroking him. Or at least that's what it felt like. But Wes hadn't been there. He was sure of it. But that also meant that Wes was in trouble.

Chance heaved his battered body from the bed. Staggering a bit as his legs threatened to buckle. He had to get to Wes. Had to warn him. His father knew about him now. He'd hurt him, maybe even kill him. And Chance just could not handle that.

He escaped into the darkened hallway. Somehow it was quiet. An eerie quiet. That didn't bode well for anyone. Chance shivered a little from so many things. Turning to make his way towards the main doors, he nearly ran right into Caius.

Caius was close to Chance's age. But that was where there similarities ended. Chance wasn't afraid of him, not as he was afraid of others. But he was wary of him. Mostly because he had his father's ear. But Caius had never actually done anything to Chance. So he didn't feel like he ought to be afraid of him. Even though he knew what he could do. What he did do. "What are you doing out here?" Caius demanded, and there was something strange about him tonight. But Chance didn't know what it was. And he didn't have the time to try and figure it out.

Chance decided then that he needed to get Caius on his side. Because if Caius went and told his father what he was up to. He'd never make it to Wes. "I need to go to Twilight." He said insistently.

"The Vampire Bar?" Caius looked dubious. "Right now? Why?"

"Because I need to find someone. And I think he'll be there." Chance bit his lip, considering Caius for a moment. "Look. I just really need to go. Come with me if you have to. But I have to go." Asking for permission wouldn't work. And Chance didn't need permission to leave. There was no formal rule that said he couldn't leave. And he knew that's what Caius was deliberating. "Please..."

The strange thing about Caius was his emotions didn't make sense. He was never angry when he should be, never sad when he should have been that too. And Chance didn't know what it was exactly that his father had done to him. He'd never wanted to know. He had enough nightmares of his own. But tonight, Caius was pensive. And that was a curious thing. Because he usually wasn't. "Twilight?" He asked again.

"Yes." Chance responded, watching the gears churn behind Caius' eyes.

And somehow, they made it there. Chance didn't really know how. He was still shaky, still shocky, still just not right. And it felt like his skin was on fire. Like someone had poured molten lava over him. But still, he kept moving forward. Because he had something he needed to protect. And nothing else mattered other then that.

The bar was crowded. And Chance shuddered against Caius who had a steadying arm around his waist. For the first time, Chance started to panic a little. What if Wes wasn't here? What if they'd come all this way and he couldn't find him? He pulled away from Caius, taking a step forward. He closed his eyes, reaching for something, anything that could tell him Wes was here. And then, as if by magic, he found him in the murky darkness. Found him and pulled him towards him. And it wasn't in a physical sense, but a much deeper, more intimate sense. It screamed Wes. His essence. His blood. His unlife. When Chance opened his eyes again, he saw him.

"Wes...." He whimpered, staggering forward a step.

@that-kinky-photographer

[pens-swords-stuff]

How did you deal with cultural stereotypes? As an asian myself, I know that westeners think that asians are all studious and good at math and our parents are all strict and expect straight 'a's in exams, which may not always be true. So did these stereotypes give you any difficulty in your school life? Did you ever fit in to these stereotypes?

How do you deal with cultural stereotypes?

With a lot of teeth gnashing and furious rants to my friends and family, mostly.

I have absolutely struggled with Asian and Japanese stereotypes through my life! I think I struggle with it a lot less now since I am more secure in my intersecting identity as an Asian American and Japanese American, but it takes a lot of work to get here and America doesn't make it easy. And I don't think that struggle will necessarily ever fade. People can be ignorant and racist, even if they don't realize it.

It is so easy to think this is a personal problem. People think it's a compliment, or they think that you're overreacting when you get upset about it because it's not a big deal, so you either get shamed into feeling bad about speaking up, or you learn to internalize it and not say anything. That is really distressing.

So I'm here to say: It's not your fault. It's not you. It is never your fault that you feel terrible when someone says "wow you're different from other Asians", or "I thought Asians were supposed to be good at math". Those are called microaggressions, and those are racist acts. You are not crazy or wrong for feeling hurt or upset by microaggressions. You are right to feel that way; it's racist and unacceptable, even if other people refuse to believe it.

I think for me, one of the biggest things that have helped is reframing the issue and contextualizing it. I felt an enormous amount of relief when I learned that systemic oppression and institutionalized racism was a thing. For my entire life, I thought that I was too sensitive, or that I couldn't take a joke, or that there was something wrong with me for being so hurt and upset by microaggressions, but no. It's a societal problem that has deep, deep roots and impacts almost every single person livinig in Western society. Your feelings are valid. Your hurt, your anger, it is all valid and important. This is a societal problem, not a you problem. These things are real, and you are right to be upset.

Asian Stereotypes and Me

I fit into a lot of Asian/Japanese stereotypes. I was known for being super smart in school, I'm pretty quiet and introverted, I was really good at math. I'm a fantastic student who never needed help and always got excellent grades. My parents also had high expectations for me and were disappointed when I got a B, even though they don't otherwise fit into the stereotype of strict Asian parents and were actually quite leniant with me. I even fit into a Japanese stereotype visually: I look like your average Japanese character in the background of a school anime — the plain extras that don't have a name, they're just there to fill space.

I definitely got told "you're so Asian/Japanese" because of that. It really hurt that none of my accomplishments were really mine, you know? Like if I'm good at math it was automatically because I was Asian/Japanese, and not because I attended two schools and put in twice the amount of work into math because I had already learned it. Everything that I did, and all of my accomplishments and efforts were invalidated because it's something that I'm supposed to be automatically good at as an Asian/Japanese person.

Because I was the smart Asian in school, a lot of people compared their test scores to mine to gauge whether they did well or not. One moment that I remember from middle school very clearly is someone saying "Oh, I did better than Undine!!! That means that I did really well!" and boy howdy that put an unbelievable amount of pressure on me — on top of all of the pressure I was feeling that I had to be smart. I had to be capable, I had to be smart without asking for help.

I'm also a former gifted kid. I never had to study in elementary or middle school because everything came naturally to me and it was so easy. I experienced all of those gifted kid issues where I didn't know how to study because I never needed to, I panicked and froze when I wasn't doing well for the first time in life, couldn't handle failure because I'd never failed before, but all of that was also compounded by the experiencing Asian stereotypes. I wasn't just a gifted kid, I was also a Japanese gifted kid who had all of the Asian stereotype expectations to deal with on top of gifted kid syndrome.

And I internalized that so much! Not only did it ruin my self-esteem and sense of self-worth, it also impacted how the people around me treated me and it was awful.

I also think that one of the most painful things for me about being Asian was that I'm never an individual. When people look at me, they don't see me, they just see an Asian. I think that this is a part of white privilege that doesn't get discussed as often, but it's really important. When you're visibly a minority, you're never an individual. When you're white in America, you have the luxury of being seen as an individual. Everything I do reflects on my entire race and ethnicity, because people just see an Asian.

(And then you get white people who get super defensive when you talk about racism, and common responses are "not all white people are like that! You're just seeing me as a white person, you're not seeing me as an individual", and it's like... Cool? You just got a taste of how I feel all the time. It's institutional and systemic baybee~)

I remember a time when I was taking part in a program and I only knew two people there. So naturally I hung out with them, they were my friends! They also happened to both be Asian. We weren't hanging out because we were Asian, we just all happened to share some classes and got friendly because we didn't know anyone else in this program. Then, I heard someone refer to us as "the Asians", and I was so shook. I had a mental breakdown after I got home that day because it was so jarring and invalidating and shocking. Because I'm an individual! I have my own personality, my own identity, I have worth and so many things going on outside of my Asian American identity. I was hanging out with my friends because of a lot of other reasons, not because we were all Asian. But none of that mattered to those people. They didn't see me as an individual, they just saw me as an Asian. And that was the first time I really realized that and it was so painful.

This experience contributed to my own internalized racism, and the desire to be #not like other Asians. I had a huge fear of making Asian friends, and participating in Asian things with Asian people because it meant that people would only see me as an Asian, and not myself. And this is something that I'm still working through; I have a lot of unlearning to do still.

It's also hard because if people don't get to know you as a person, no matter what you do, you are only reinforcing stereotypes. If you do well on an exam, it's because you're Asian. If you don't do well on an exam, you're an exception, not the norm. When people look at you as nothing but an Asian, it doesn't matter who you are. All you are is a stereotype, or the rare exception and a weirdo because you don't fit the stereotype. And then people try to force you to fit into the stereotype anyway so again, it doesn't matter who you are.

And there are several other microaggression and stereotypes about being Japanese specifically that really bother me and happen quite often, but since this is already getting really long, I think that's a post for another time. Send me an ask if you're interested in hearing about those.

As a quick peek into the Japanese-specific stereotypes: the stereotype song was a thing back when I was in high school, and there's a line in it that says "I think that I love you more than a Japanese girl loves tentacle porn", so I got asked about tentacle porn a lot.

AAPI AMA 2022: Ask me anything about being Japanese!

Remember that these are just my personal experiences and opinions! My thoughts and experiences are not necessarily representative of every Japanese person, and should not be taken as such.

[maulusque]

Clone genetic enhancement ideas

So the clones were genetically enhanced, but i don’t really see any writers (in fanfic or in published stuff) really exploring what that MEANS beyond “clone very stronk”. Here are some ideas that would actually make clones significantly different from just a regular-ass human in peak condition. 

-enhanced senses: eyesight, hearing, etc. I’m talking eyes like a HAWK

-better reflexes

-quicker information processing

-can hear sounds of higher and lower frequency than standard humans

-can see light of a broader spectrum than human standard

-learn quicker, retain information and skills better (potential problem: if you learn something the WRONG way, that way might stick really well)

-photographic memory (really useful for memorizing layouts and maps)

-immunity to various diseases

-can tolerate a wider range of temperatures and environments

-increased stamina and strength baseline. Clones can just run full-tilt for hours and hours and be like “ah a nice stroll”. Over long distances, they can out-pace jedi in the same way that humans can out-pace horses.

-higher tolerance of certain poisons/toxins (clones can straight-up drink ethanol, and get maybe a little tipsy)

-bodies respond quickly to physical stress, and slowly to the absence of it (basically, this means that physical conditioning results in stronger muscles and a stronger cardiovascular system really quickly, and it takes MUCH longer for a clone to lose strength and conditioning due to not exercising than standard humans. Think how much valuable training time is saved if they only have to go on a run like, once a month in order to stay in shape)

-increased ability to function through intense pain and acute injuries. Basically, semi-disabling the pain system so it’s less distracting. Probably not good for the survival of the individual in many situations, but an advantage on the battlefield. 

-heal faster and better, with fewer long-term complications. Clones can dislocate their shoulders and NOT have the joint be permanently fucked up, because the Kaminoans re-designed the whole damn thing to suck WAY less.

-actually, unique internal anatomy. There’s probably a lot about the human body besides the shoulder joint that is actually just really stupid, and something no intelligent designer would actually build. So the Kaminoans can fix a lot of that stuff. Better knees, maybe. Stronger ribs. Maybe Cody punches droids not just because he’s a mad bastard, but also because his metatarsals are literally as strong as steel. 

-Hearing loss/hearing damage? No problem, your ear can regrow those little hair-thingies that help you hear. 

-Of course, it takes energy to maintain muscle mass, which is why human bodies lose it if we’re not using it. Clones need significantly more calories than standard humans. However, their digestive systems are enhanced to extract calories and nutrients from food much more efficiently, so food goes much farther. Potential weird side effect: maybe clones only have to poop like, once a week?

-You could probably extend that into increased ability to tolerate long periods without food/on low rations, despite the increased need for calories. 

-wouldn’t it be NEAT if the kaminoans somehow designed self-repairing DNA. This would mean that others couldn’t take a DNA sample from a clone and modify it to create their own clones (basically, it protects their product. It’s like DRM for clones). This ALSO means that clones couldn’t get cancer, and that they’d be immune to radiation poisoning. So a clone could just walk up to a sphere of uranium at critical mass and pick it up. Maybe with oven mitts on if it’s hot. (this would also make it harder for a rapid-aging cure to be developed, but uhhhh fanfic writers find a way)

- “bred for obedience” I think most of this would have to be accomplished through tightly-controlled messaging and cultural norms as the clones grow up- basically, enshrining obedience as a desirable and almost sacred trait, to be prized higher than anything else, including the lives of your brothers. In the same way that we hear stories of people sacrificing their lives to protect their loved ones, the clones would grow up hearing stories of soldiers sacrificing their brothers’ lives to obey an order from a superior. 

-SOME of the “obedience” thing could be engineered, though. Humans are already super social, but it would probably make sense for the clones to have an even greater need for social bonds. This would make for greater teamwork and coordination, and better unit cohesion, since the clones would be more inclined to prioritize friendship/agreeing with someone over winning an argument. It would also make it so they’d bond with their natural-born generals more easily, so they would obey them not just because they’re supposed to, but because they’d be much quicker to see them as a friend, and someone who’s trust they want to earn, someone they want to incorporate into their group and make happy.

-consequently, clones who find themselves alone do NOT do well. Isolation has a much more profoundly negative impact on clones than on regular humans.

-Originally, clones designed to operate alone or in small teams would not have the social enhancement- ARC troopers, spec-ops teams, etc. There wouldn’t be much of a noticeable difference in everyday interactions, but they’d also be vaguely weirded out by what they interpret as aggressive friendliness from their brothers, and their brothers would think they’re a bit shy and standoffish. 

-actually this social modification would make it MUCH harder for clones to kill people. REGULAR HUMANS are already super bad at killing people- i remember reading this article about how as soon as soldiers have to point their weapons at actual people, their aim gets mysteriously much shittier. Even when compared to situations that are exactly the same, except they’re not shooting at other humans. So reconcile this how you will, idk.

-I imagine a lot of these enhancements would be accomplished not through DNA, but through microorganisms. Retroviruses could explain the DNA resistant to modification, and the increased healing speed, and possibly some disease resistance (do i know anything about retroviruses other than a vague concept of what they are? no i do not. will that stop me? also no.) Their metabolism can be partially explained through specially engineered gut microbes.

-not sure how they’d go about making clones “resistant to any stress”, because you can’t exactly turn off the trauma response in the brain without breaking a bunch of other things. They could probably do a bit of fiddling to make clones more resistant to chemical imbalances, and therefore more depression-resistant. I think most of the “stress-resistance” would have to come through training. Either they train the clones to basically suppress everything, which might work alright in the short term. OR they actually have systems in place that help prevent the development of things like PTSD and help treat trauma. Meaning the clones are literally trained in self-care, positive self-talk, talking about their pain with their brothers, and having community rituals around things like death and grief. I don’t think that’s super likely because one thing that’s integral to those concepts is the concept of “i am a person and i have worth, and if i feel angry about something bad happening, that is ok and valid” and considering that a whole lot of bad things happen to the clones all the time and their childhood is a whole boatload of bad all happening at once, i don’t think the kaminoans would want the clones realizing “hey wait a minute i’m a person and i don’t deserve to be treated this way and it’s ok for me to be mad at you”. 

- the clones were supposedly engineered to be “less aggressive” but i think there was literally nothing more to that than a cover story for the control chip. The clones wouldn’t be raised with a lot of the aggressive western concept of masculinity, where anger is the default reaction to like, everything, and your personal pride is extremely important and also fragile (no offense lmao). So you wouldn’t have clones posturing and getting angry over perceived slights and fighting each other all the time, like everyone in-universe apparently expects to be the case. Anyway, why would you want your soldiers to be less aggressive? they’re literally supposed to fight and kill the enemy. You want them fully capable of getting angry, anger is the human response to fear and danger that lets us DO something about it. 

-obviously the biggest component in how they behave would be how they are raised, but that’s an entirely different post

-Specializations! I imagine that initially, the Kaminoans had different clones with different traits engineered specifically to fill certain roles. However, as the war went on, they struggled to keep up with demand and had to start shoving clones into whatever roles were needed (hence Fives and Echo becoming ARCs, despite not being engineered as ARC troopers). 

-Command clones would have better abilities in the executive function parts of the brain that deal with extrapolation, planning ahead, spatial reasoning, etc. They’d also have increased visual pattern recognition (like a pigeon)

-search-and-rescue troops would also have the pigeon pattern recognition abilities. The coast guard literally strapped pigeons to helicopters who would tap a button when they saw orange in the water, because they were better at spotting it than humans. Pigeons can detect cancer in microscope images of cells, because they’re that good at pattern recognition

-Pilots would have hella reflexes, excellent spatial awareness and spatial reasoning skills, much greater ability to process visual information, stronger hearts and blood vessels (to resist greater Gs of force), and they’d also be much shorter, to better fit into a cockpit. Which reminds me of Axe, that poor bastard from Ahsoka’s squadron over Ryloth who was almost eight feet tall. rip poor Axe, how did you even become a pilot, you long bastard.

-medics who can smell certain diseases. If you want to get a little bit out there, make the medics able to purr so they can sooth stressed-out patients. 

-infantry would have even greater endurance than everyone else, as well as greater tolerance for, and ability to, remain constantly on alert.

-ability to fall asleep at will? that would be super dope.

-maybe more efficient sleep, so to an adult clone, 4 hours of sleep is genuinely sufficient.

-concept: clones can sort of turn down their bodily functions- slow their digestion, heart, lungs, the whole nine yards- to last longer in adverse conditions. Sort of a half-hibernation (or quarter hibernation- they’d still be able to talk and think, but they’d feel very lethargic). They wouldn’t be able to function very well, but it would be great for things like enduring intense cold, periods without food, low-oxygen environments, and it would be especially useful if you were wounded and waiting for help, since you could slow your circulation, meaning it would take you a lot longer to bleed out. This state could be triggered by a combination of physical actions such as sitting or lying still, breathing slowly and deeply, and focusing on slowing the heart down (humans can actually slow down their hearts consciously if you practice at it, this is basically that, but turned up to like 1100).

-one thing that never made sense to me was the whole “we’re running out of jango fett’s DNA, all the new clones won’t be as good, and we have to stop ventress from stealing the original DNA” because like, can’t they just, get the EXACT SAME DNA from the clones?? you know, the exact genetic copies? With all the enhancements already done? But now my idea is that the kaminoans have engineered the clones so their DNA straight up can’t be copied. The clone’s own body can obviously replicate it, but if you take a sample and try to extract the DNA, it just self-destructs or something. This is to protect their intellectual property, but also means that they literally have to use a couple of Jango Fett’s actual human cells for every single clone they make (and the fact that they then have to do all the above enhancements to every single embryo helps explain why there’s so many small mutations, such as hair color and height). So they kinda shot themselves in the foot with that one. 

-of course since things like ADHD and autism have a strong genetic component, the kaminoans could theoretically engineer those out of the clones, but actually FUCK THAT so for whatever reason, that’s just not something they are able to do, and neurodivergent clones are absolutely a thing

[exovapor]

I'm OBSESSED with your writing. Can you try.. Maybe, Donnie being a filthy boy being an 'stalker-ish' of his long time crush? Be checks their FB for new posts, saves every picture of them he finds? He doesn't mean to be a creep, feels guilty, but just doesn't know how to ask for more than friendship?

Good afternoon Anon. Here is my short story in relation to your ask.

I wasn't sure where you wanted me to take this, so I had to do a bit of guessing on my part. I hope this something like you were wanting.

I will admit that this ask was a bit of a struggle for me, not knowing a clear direction to take it outcome made me a little unsure of my writing and guessing abilities LOL. However, I will admit to crying along with the characters in this story more than once.

Thanks again for the ask and the initial compliment. I hope to continue to earn your favor in future posts.

· Stalker [noun]: 1a person who harasses or persecutes someone with unwanted and obsessive attention. 2a person who hunts game stealthily.

· Donnie stared at the definition on his one of his monitor screens while his various other screens were busy flashing receipts of files downloaded, text trail streams from your phone, notices of any social media post/update/like/heart/emoji, a GPS line grid of your routes today (overlayed over the routes you’d taken previously), and data search hits of anything and everything that pertained to you.

· At this point, the boy had literally every picture you had ever posted, anywhere, of yourself. In fact, he had all the pictures that other people posted of you in them. He had even gone through the effort of designing a face recognition program that picks you out of the background of total strangers’ pictures and, yeah, he had those in a file too.

· He has special file folders that compile things that you like, things you don’t like, things that make you happy, things that make you sad. He is your own personal Pinterest and you didn’t even know it… and maybe that is the part that keeps bothering him so much.

· He sits staring at that word and definition and chewing his bottom lip. True, he knows the word and the meaning, but he needed to LOOK at it, analyze it, mull it over in his guilt ridden brain.

· He just KNEW the word Stalker couldn’t apply to him.

· After all, he isn’t harassing or persecuting you, you don’t know! So, it isn’t necessarily ‘unwanted attention’. It is just…unknown attention.

· Stealthily, hmmmm, did that part apply to him? Well, He isn’t EXACTLY being stealthy.

· If you knew about technology like him, then you would probably see his programs running on your devices and be alerted to his activities. AND, if you shared his love and view of technology, then you would probably be more understanding of his activities and not consider them stealthy…just data mining. In fact, you might applaud him.

· ‘Ok, that was taking it a bit too far’, Donnie thinks to himself and he feels a band tighten and squeeze around his infatuated heart.

· He is almost certain that you would be shocked to learn of his extra curricular activities and how they revolve around every aspect of you.

· Regardless of how he tried to spin the truth and wiggle out of the definition of stalker, Donnie still felt guilty for invading your privacy. However, he honestly couldn’t help himself…at least not anymore.

· He has fought the urge, the nagging thoughts and the burning need, to know more about you for what seemed like an eternity.

· Listen to him, he is starting to sound dramatic like Mikey! What is his turning into? He is losing his rational edge!

· To be accurate, it hasn’t been an eternity. In fact, he has known you 1 year, 36 days, 14 hours, 11 minutes, and 23 seconds to be exact. However, you started occupying space in his mind 2 minutes into meeting you and your claim over his mind has grown exponentially over time.

· You were quiet and reserved during that first meeting, so there wasn’t much to go on. It started as a simple visual interest with a thought of ‘Oh. She’s pretty’.

· However, then you started talking and that changed everything.

· You opened up more and more each time you hung out with their little group, revealing layers and layers of interests and personality. You were fascinating…and that’s when his thoughts about you really started to snowball and spiral out of control.

· You went from being a simple pretty face to being a walking embodiment of everything he seriously ever dreamed of having in a mate.

· Early on, there were three sticking points that really made Donnie’s feelings problematic. 1. He was a nearly seven foot tall walking talking turtle and you weren’t. 2. You had a boyfriend that you were deeply in love with and adored. 3. Donnie was too insecure about #1 and how you felt about inter-species dating to let you know that you had started to OWN his heart.

· Now, thanks to his surveillance, there were only two sticking points….#1 and #3.

· He still remembers the feelings of that day, 44 days ago, when the blip of information popped up on this screen alerting him to the fact that your boyfriend was starting to stray.

· Donnie had severely conflicting feelings bombard him at once and it was overwhelming.

· The initial knee jerk reaction was elation, one of the problems blocking him from you may soon be null.

· However, the feeling of elation only lasted for a second or two before the intense anger and sadness set in. Donnie was honestly shocked at the depth of his anger, he didn’t even know he had that level of malice in him. Had he been in physical proximity to your boyfriend at that moment in time, Donnie isn’t sure that he wouldn’t have hurt your guy…or worse.

· How COULD this guy do this? WHY would he? He HAD YOU! What the heck was this guy thinking? Not only did he have you, but you thought the world of him. When you spoke about him you would smile so genuinely, your eyes would shine and gaze off into a bright imagined future. Donnie was always so jealous to watch it happen, he wondered what it would be like to be THAT GUY. And here the idiot was throwing it all away and meeting up with another girl!

· WHAT THE…(yes, this called for a curse) HELL…IS WRONG WITH HUMAN MEN?

· As the anger set root in his heart, the sadness engulfed Donnie like an all-consuming wave. He realized he was going to have to share this information with you, somehow, and that he was going to have to watch as it destroyed you.

· At first, Donnie had a plan to try and save you both from that fate. True, it would hurt him more to save your relationship, but he would rather be the one facing the pain and not you.

· He TRIED to circumvent the situation. He sent anonymous messages to your boyfriend stating that he knew about the infidelity and that he would tell you if needed. However, it didn’t seem like your boyfriend cared because he sent messages back stating Donnie could, basically, go fuck himself.

· Life had cruel sense of irony, thought Donnie, that is exactly what I do since this moron has the woman that I love.

· So, after trying for nearly two weeks to stop what was happening behind your back, Donnie had no choice but to let you in on the secret.

· Donnie couldn’t come right out and tell you that he caught your boyfriend cheating by hijacking your data streams and the data streams of those around you. So, Donnie intercepted some texts between your boyfriend and his mistress and he then sent you a text, under the guise of your boyfriend, telling you to meet him at a specified restaurant for a date.

· It had been a gut wrenching night for Donnie. He remembered watching it all play out on camera feeds from around the restaurant and street outside. He watched you dressed up in your pretty dress get out of your cab in front of the restaurant. You had such a lovely smile on your face, you must have thought you were in for a romantic evening.

· He watched as you walked inside and how the hostess got flustered and confused by a 2nd girl showing up for your boyfriend’s seated-for-two table.

· Donnie stopped breathing as your eyes found the new couple holding hands and giving each other sweet kisses across the table. Hands and lips that were supposed to be yours were touching some stranger.

· Donnie watched your smile and eyes die…the light of your inner sun go out…

· …and it killed him.

· He’s not sure who was crying the hardest, you standing there in that restaurant witnessing the scene or him back at the lair watching your world crush around you on his monitor.

· It had taken a while for you both to recover from that night.

· His brothers noticed his melancholy mood for a couple of weeks but Donnie wouldn’t tell them what was bothering him. And you stayed in your bed, refusing to face the world, for nearly as long.

· Eventually, the group began to notice your silence and absence, so April stopped by your apartment to check on you. She was the one to pull you out of bed, get you to shower and eat. She visited everyday and made sure you had someone to vent to and a shoulder to cry on.

· Donnie was glad that April could be there for you when he couldn’t. He didn’t think it was appropriate for him, a male, to be your confidant at that time. Especially since he felt so much guilt over having to be the one to expose you to that pain.

· No, he didn’t CAUSE the pain, but he did have to make you face it and he didn’t like not being able to protect you from it. You were such a rare, precious creature and watching you in pain felt like he was suffocating slowly.

· There were some points during those first few weeks that he questioned if he did the right thing, but logic told him it would have eventually come to pass with or without his involvement. It was better to rip the bandage of quickly and let you start to heal than it was to let you linger and drag out the inevitable.

· Donnie did secretly check on you every single night during patrol. And, of course, his surveillance feeds were always running. He watched from a distance as his beautiful phoenix burn down to ashes and, eventually, started to rise again.

· Now, it’s been over 3 months and you’ve begun to be more like your old self. Donnie can tell there is a silent sadness there, but you are able to laugh and smile with the group during your get togethers. And each time you two are left alone, his mind nags at him about those last two sticking points.

· Would you be at all interested in him? And HOW does he go about telling you that you have become the center of his world?

· Still staring at the monitor and the Stalker definition, Donnie sighs and rubs the bridge of his snout to release of the pressure now pushing against the inside of his head. The memories of what has happened, the emotions of what was and what is, it was all starting to be too much.

· “Bro, what’s all this?”, Mikey says standing behind Donnie’s chair, talking around a mouth full of pizza.

· “NOTHING!”, says Donnie, voice breaking from the stress of being caught. A startled Donnie quickly taps some keys on his keyboard and the screens revert back to the standard lair camera feeds.

· Mikey may look or even come off as naïve at times, but he’s no fool, he can sense that his older brother is trying to hide something. “Dude, seriously, what was that? I’ve been standing back here reading the screens. I saw Y/N’s name and that looked like her phone number on that other file…, you know the file that looks like texts messages. And why is there a plotted map of the area around her apartment, her work, and to the lair? What’s up?”, Mikey said giving a disapproving look at being thought a pushover.

· “Just standard surveillance, Mikey, nothing to worry about.”, Donnie says trying to placate Mikey’s curiosity. Donnie hates lying, especially to Mikey, but he’s feeling so guilty about being such a…(inward sigh)…stalking creep that admitting the truth is hard to do.

· Mikey stands there staring at Donnie and, as he does, Donnie begins to fidget with his computer chair armrests.

· Mikey stuffs the remnants of the pizza slice into his mouth and does his best Leo impersonation by crosses his arms and staring down at Donnie as sternly as his jolly face can achieve, “Dude, I’m not going to ask you again. You’ve been weird for months. We’ve let it go for the most part but now you are hiding things from me…from ME, dude! You and I, we’re like peanut butter and jelly, we’re ice cream and chocolate fudge, we young dudes have got to stick together. Trust me, bro, I’ve got you!”.

· Donnie stared at the floor, too ashamed to meet Mikey’s eyes any longer. He gave a heavy sigh and reluctantly started to speak, “Sorry Mike, I…I honestly don’t know what’s come over me lately. I’m doing things I never thought I would do, I’m feeling so guilty about it, but I don’t know if I can stop doing it either. I feel…lost.”.

· Mike relaxed his leader stance and leaned against one of Donnie’s lab tables, “Bro, I can tell you’ve been carrying some heavy stuff lately. You need to let it out.”

· Donnie felt the heat rise up through his body like he was suddenly being consumed by a fire and he ripped his glasses off his face and drew them down on the desk in frustration, “Mikey, I’m in love with Y/N. I have been for a while. I have been…”, Donnie hangs his head in shame, “…tracking all her digital foot prints and watching her. In fact, I’m the reason she found out that asshole boyfriend of her's cheated.”

· Mikey’s mouth drops open at Donnie’s demeanor and use of the word ‘asshole’, “Whoa, dude, why didn’t you say something earlier?”.

· Donnie can feel a stinging at the corners of his eyes, this was so embarrassing, so frustrating, so…..so many things at a once. He didn’t have a response for Mikey, all he could do was shake his head.

· Still with his head hung down and staring at the floor, Donnie starts to hear Mikey chuckle. Donnie looks up to see Mikey’s eyes on him and for some reason they are full of merriment at his painful dilemma. Donnie stares at his, normally, very considerate brother in astonishment, this isn’t like Mikey at all!

· “Mikey, I’m more than serious here, now is not the time to make fun of me. What is so funny?”, Donnie asks exasperatedly.

· Mikey shakes his bald head and claps his brother on the shoulder with his green hand, “Bro, she thinks you’re cute.”.

· “W-What?!”, Donnie stammers out.

· Mikey, still chuckling, says, “Yeah, dude, that’s why I asked WHY you didn’t say something about liking her sooner, she’s always thought you were cute. She and I talk about it all the time.”.

· Donnie just stares at his jolly brother in silence. His mind is too blown to form a sentence.

· Mikey turns to leave stating, “And by the way, dude, stop watching her like that…that’s just creepy.”.

@turtle-babe83 @tmntspidergirl @kokokatsworld @nittleboo @the-second-circle-of-shell

[lb-desserts]

Pran might be neurodivergent and/or depressed. Here‘s why! Pt.1

I‘m back from the circus after my fake dating theory 🤡

disclaimer: This is a THEORY. This post is not supposed to anyone except theorising about a fictional character. I draw my knowledge from personal and interpersonal experience, and not professional knowledge.

Emotions are weird - what a mood

As we've seen the smiley's are EVERYWHERE. It's a constant reminder for him that emotions exist and which exist. For people who have difficulties interpreting emotions, having a visual depiction is extremely helpful in one's understanding of it.

The whole focus on 'am i happy or sad?' can allude to borderline or bipolar disorder, however Pran's portrayal of his mood-switches is much more reminiscent of chronic depression (dysthymia). His default state is :I with some happy moments ):) and when he gets sad, he reaaaly gets sad (:( which is called a double depression.

Pran has difficulty reading his own and other's emotions, so he uses his post-its to track his mood. He also has difficulties communicating his emotions and needs, which we can see in how he uses a door handle to communicate his emotional state to others.

His parents also were probably never receptive to his emotions or wants, and there was no room for emotional closenessat home (at least from his mom). It didn't matter what he wants (e.g. playing music) and he had to fulfil their expectations: be better than the neighbour's son, no matter what. This creates stress.

Take away the joy → Result: Depression

The secrets Pran keeps combined with the suffering from their parent's feud and the expectation to be perfect, creates so much pressure that it's almost impossible that he didn't develop a chronic depression. Especially when his outlet, music and Pat, was taken away from him for years.

Hide the pain Harold Pran: aka 'masking'

However he still has to keep up the appearance that everything is fine, right? That's where 'masking' comes in. Many people mask on a day to day basis and it's not exclusive to Neurodiversity.

If other people look away or are engaged in another conversation, the mask might slip because it's exhausting to keep it up all the time, as we see Pran do multiple times. Pran puts on the mask to keep up appearances, to not make his true feelings known, or to not make anyone worry.

This does not only include smiles, but also put on anger, disappointment, annoyance, and even putting on a 'i don't care' face. It's not only hiding the pain, but also hiding that you are waaay to excited about something or someone.

When there’s too much drama at school many emotions, all you gotta do is WaLK aWaYyyAYAyy: aka avoidance

The vine said it all. Sometimes everything is too much and you can't just put on a mask and push through it. Escaping the situation completely to prevent emotional outbursts or even meltdowns, is the solution in these cases. Pran often can't deal with being confronted about his feelings in general, and more than often about Pat.

In his mind avoiding it is the path of least resistance. Confrontation is pain. Dealing with something is painful. Consequences are painful. He doesn't want the situation to get even worse than it already is, or throw his in an even deeper hole than what came from the Christmas concert many years ago.

Some last words:

this is just a theory. I've gathered sources and written out the whole thing which got waaaay to long, so you'll get about 4 or 5 parts total, which deal with a different aspect of Pran's mental state and possible ND or depression symptoms. As always: I'd love to hear your thoughts and emotions about this theory.

[you-cant-spell-subtext-without]

ahdflksjaklf;jsls ok buddies - I hate talking about 14x13: Lebanon, but it has relevancy in the “John Winchester is a villain and cannot and should not be redeemed” discourse as well as being a crucial piece of finale denialist lore so I Have Been Thinking About It Too Much.

As you may recall, the Occult Object of the Week - the pearl - in Lebanon is supposed to grant Dean’s “heart’s desire.” Dean and Sam are Very Sure this means expelling Michael (the Dean Winchester Must Be Saved installment of season 14) (honestly that premise always seemed a little slim to me, I was hoping for Dean’s heart’s desire to be Cas, on Dean’s car, naked, covered in bees). 

Instead they summon Dad of the Year, which at first feels infuriating.  However after discussion with my earworms, I Have Fixed It (and also turned it into a grenade to launch at 15x20.)

Finale denialists and John Winchester derogatorians ASSEMBLE! and let’s discuss after the cut.

I’ve written in depth about Dean’s struggles with the cycle of abuse, so I won’t go too far into it here, but if you want to revisit any of that meta this is a good place to begin.  This post hinges on the same theory - that Dean’s true freedom is established in his release from that cycle - that is the logical outcome of any hero’s journey for him, and where he would finally be able to accept happiness and love.  This logically would also make release from the cycle of abuse and the feelings of self-hatred Dean struggles with his “heart’s desire” for purposes of the pearl.  When it comes to emotions, we also know Dean doesn’t deal with them well.  He punches things instead.  So odds are, Dean hasn’t really worked through these feelings.  

Dean also mentions when John returns that “it was what [Dean] wanted since he was 4″ - when they lost Mary, right before John became obsessed with revenge.  Season 12 Mary canonically remembers John as a “good dad,” so we can draw a line from that to the abuse really starting shortly after her death.  This is also corroborated by Dean himself:

DEAN: You know when you died, it changed Dad. 

(A visual of the John Mary remembers) (just my excuse to put pictures of Matt Cohen on your dash) (I shouldn’t need an excuse) (Matt Cohen hi you are on Tumblr please don’t read any of this I’m embarrassed).

So what Dean has is pre-Mary’s-death John and post-Mary’s-death John, post-Mary’s-death John being the one whose abuse created Dean’s own damaged persona.  Dean thinks the fix is to stop things on the front end (he is ignoring any process-centered solution, he just wants it to never have happened, he is in denial that he has to work through this and just wants it to be erased, etc etc etc).  

***also keep in mind that going back in time to change things on the front end as a “fix it” is a storyline SPN repeats regularly***

***and it always ends up being impossible to do*** 

Ok so for Dean, his damage/anger/brutal nature/darkness is always linked to John, and this cycle “began” for Dean once their family was torn apart by Mary’s death.  So the fix is his “blood family” together.  That’s his heart’s desire in Lebanon because Dean hasn’t really worked through any of his emotions, and it’s his very Dean way of fixing it - “oh if my family gets put back together I will be put back together too.”

***speaking of quick fixes, I’d like to note that any case in SPN that is referred to as a “milk run”  inevitably becomes complicated and messy***

***continuing the thematics of there’s no such thing as a quick fix***

This is no different.  Stopping the cycle by simply erasing it from the narrative erases anything else that happened along the way during the journey.  It erases this Mary (who they know as a person by this point and not just the mom on a pedestal) 

and (most importantly) it erases this Cas (the episode specifically replaces Cas with one who Doesn’t Know Dean).

We Emphasize This Of Course In The Dialogue In Case You Missed It

DEAN Cas, you know us. ALTERNATE CAS I don’t know you.

***Simply erasing the origin of Dean’s trauma erases all of Dean’s growth.  It erases this family that Dean is so proud to tell John he has now. It erases everything he has already overcome despite how hard it was to achieve it.

So, John goes back.  In that way, the pearl does give Dean his heart’s desire - his realization that this is not about a quick fix, it is about the journey to the good, and all you gain and become along the way (kind of similar to “Happiness isn't in the having. It's in just being. It's in just saying it" eh?).  it’s the process.  It’s every moment along the way.  It’s the people who help him get there.

And then he starts the healing journey by taking control of his own life, by owning his feelings instead of displacing the blame, by recognizing he is NOT guided solely by the actions of his father and this cycle:

DEAN

And for the longest time, I blamed Dad. I mean, hell, I blamed Mom, too, you know? I was angry. But say we could send Dad back knowing everything. Why stop there? Why not send him even further back and let some other poor sons of bitches save the world? But here’s the problem. Who does that make us? Would we be better off? Well, maybe. But I gotta be honest – I don’t know who that Dean Winchester is.

And the episode fucking ends with Cas, the Cas Who Knows Them coming into the bunker and asking them what happened, calling each of them by name just to emphasize again That He Knows Them, because Cas knowing Dean, and Cas being Dean’s family is the cornerstone of what Dean’s heart desires.

[CAS walks in from the door at the top of the stairs. SAM, DEAN and MARY walk out from the library to see him.]

CAS Mary, Sam, Dean. What happened?

So yeah, it took 14 damn seasons but Lebanon is where Dean realizes he can be defined by more than the acts of his father.  (That’s why it’s so terrifying for Dean when Chuck snatches back any control he gained in Season 15.  Because for Dean, Chuck is just John Winchester Controls My Every Action all over again, except he’s God which makes it even worse.) 

That’s also why the final blow to Chuck is not Dean killing him. 

The last stage in the journey that begins here with Dean’s “I’m good with who I am” - [I’m still bad and dark and damaged but I’m good with it]

is Dean’s “that’s not who I am.” [the most caring man on Earth; the most selfless, loving human being I will ever know]

Thats equally why 15x18 is so brilliant, 15x19 is at least acceptable, and 15x20 simply does. not. work.

Dean Winchester’s perfect heaven cannot possibly center on the blood family.  It does not have John Winchester and Mary, husband and wife, who took away his own free will.  It is THIS FAMILY.  The found family.  Cas and Jack and Sam and the Mary that was resurrected.  Dean’s entire character arc supports this journey, and to have it culminate in something that is so established in the season prior to this one as something Dean knows he no longer wants is maddening.

I’m even more mad now because I just remembered that the most prominent picture above Dying Sam’s bed was the blood family portrait from this episode; almost like they wanted us to remember this particular stupid lesson.  This show is so stupid when it could have been so so so very good.

***I want to say thanks again to all of you who read my spiraling if you got this far.  It’s therapeutic for me to do it, but it makes it all the better that people actually read it.  Seeing you in my notes MAKES my entire day****

[allnewalldifferentwildspider]

Zuko & Katara's Relationship Dynamic

This is like the third or fourth time I've tried to write up this post so please bare with me.

Oh wow. That video. Hopefully everyone has seen it now. Not only did it articulate arguments I've been making for years, but it also brought up ideas I had never thought of or noticed before. Watching that and watching the second half of Book 3 again (because it's my favorite) made me want to redo my zutara dynamic post.

I'm going to be using the tiny bits and pieces the show gave us to see how Zuko and Katara's relationship looks and how it would look if they gave us more because...Bryke really fucking hated zutara. I mean, I guess they did.

Katara is compassionate; Zuko is empathetic

A lot of anti-zutara arguments have said that Zuko and Katara could never be together because they would constantly fight and hate each other and it end sooner than later. Not only does this actually describe maiko, but that argument would need to ignore the characters' actual character.

One of Katara's biggest character traits is how compassionate she is. She has a drive to help others and ease their pain. Whether it's getting Aang out of the iceberg or healing a Fire Nation fishing village, Katara will go out of her way to help someone in need.

Katara: No. I will never ever turn my back on people who need me.

Zuko is very emotional and passionate person. As much as he tried to hide it to appease his father, Zuko does want to open up and connect with people. Unfortunately, aside from his uncle, most of the other people he knows are like Zhao and Azula. Not the most understanding of crowds. But because of this he can pick up what people are really thinking and feeling. Think of it as a defense mechanism he developed growing up around people like Azula.

Get these two kinds of people together and you get the crystal catacombs scene. Katara lashes out at Zuko until she breaks down. When she does Zuko opens up with empathy since they have something in common. This creates the beginning of an understanding between the two. Zuko uses that to finally open up to someone who isn't his uncle and Katara listens and reaches out to help. Contrast to the first episode of Book 3 when Zuko tries to voice his thoughts and concerns to Mai and she...doesn't really care.

Something similar happens during The Southern Raiders. Zuko figures out that Katara is taking out her anger of being separated from her father by The Fire Nation onto him and even connecting her mother's death to him.

It's not the first time Zuko has done this either. He easily figured out that Sokka was planning on going to The Boiling Rock. He does it again during Sozin's Comet when he tells Katara that Aang needs to figure out what to do about Ozai by himself.

There's a noticeable pattern of behavior by the time Sozin's Comet arrives. Zuko voices his concerns about meeting his uncle again and Katara is right there to help him through it.

Zuko's empathy combined with Katara's compassion creates almost a cycle of understanding and emotional vulnerability that the two can't really get with anyone else. One notices the other having concerns or problems and goes to give comfort by words or by actions.

Zuko still has a temper but so does Katara

Even after Zuko's fever dream character change thing, even after The Day of Black Sun, he still has it in him to yell at anyone who commits even the slightest transgressions against him:

Aang: That one felt kinda hot. Zuko: Don't patronize me. You know what it's supposed to look like. Aang: Sorry, sifu hotman. Zuko: And stop calling me that!

Sokka: So all we have to do is make Zuko angry. Easy enough. *pokes him with his sword* *annoying laugh* Zuko: All right! Cut it out!

Maybe it's the firebender in him or maybe he really is just like that. Basically if you annoy him, he'll let you know. What people sometimes overlook is that while it takes Katara a bit longer, she also gets worked up when people upset her.

Toph: What's the matter? Can't handle some dirt, Madame Fussy Britches? Katara: Oh, sorry, did I splash you, mud slug?

And remember, it was Katara getting angry at Sokka that even broke the iceberg that revealed Aang.

Katara: Ugh, I'm embarrassed to be related to you! Ever since Mom died I've been doing all the work around camp while you've been off playing soldier! Sokka: Uh... Katara? Katara: I even wash all the clothes! Have you ever smelled your dirty socks? Let me tell you, NOT PLEASANT! Sokka: Katara! Settle down! Katara: No, that's it. I'm done helping you. From now on, you're on your own!

The point is that it is both Zuko and Katara that are very passionate and emotional people. One of them isn't emotionally dominating the other because they both wear their emotions on their sleeves.

This also comes in to play when they set goals for themselves. When Zuko sets a goal, he puts everything into it. Katara is the same way. The difference is that Zuko's drive sometimes gives him a one-track mind while Katara is more flexible. Like for example Zuko being so focused on finding Aang before Sozin's Comet that he ignores Toph's story about her childhood versus Katara wanting to go to the North Pole but taking time to stop and help whoever they come across.

This passion also fuels their values and how strongly they stand by their beliefs. I already put The Painted Lady quote up above but Zuko's morality is what is making him so angry at himself during The Beach. He knows what he did was wrong, but he couldn't face it yet.

Sometimes their emotions get the better of them, but it's only because they are passionate about what they're doing.

Their natural teamwork is amazing

I can't provide a lot of clues in this bit because it's more of a visual thing. Just consider how flawlessly their plans worked during their attack on The Southern Raiders. Especially when you consider that it was a stealth mission so they barely even said anything to each other during and it still went incredibly well.

You could see it again during their mock battle with The Melon Lord. Sokka must have noticed because he paired them together to deliver some "liquidy-hot offence." And they pulled it off, again, without having to say anything.

They've only been a team for a few weeks(?), days(?) but they act as if they've been doing it for years.

They trust each other's judgment

Piggybacking of the previous point, Zuko and Katara have only been a team for a while but there seems to be a level of understanding in terms of judgement. They both know that whatever the other chooses is going to be a well-thought out decision. Maybe it's because they see each other as the mature members of the group even though Sokka is the same age as Zuko? I don't know.

Aang disappears right before they embark on their fight against the Fire Lord, and out of nowhere, Katara puts Zuko in charge.

Zuko: Get out of the bison's mouth, Sokka. We have a real problem here. Aang is nowhere to be found and the comet is only two days away. Katara: What should we do Zuko? Zuko: I don't know. Why are you all looking at me? Katara: Well, you are kind of the expert on tracking Aang.

and that wasn't the first time in that episode that she went along with one of Zuko's decisions

Katara: Aang, don't walk away from this. *She begins to walk towards him as a hand touches her shoulder to stop her from doing so.* Zuko: Let him go. He needs time to sort it out by himself.

As a lot of people have pointed out during the entirety of The Southern Raiders, Zuko never gives a suggestion on what he thinks Katara should do. Aside from making it a stealth mission, he follows her lead the entire way.

Katara teases Zuko (and he lets her)

The fun one. This one has two parts: pre and post The Southern Raiders.

Before The Southern Raiders, Katara was tolerating Zuko. She was still angry with him about the betrayal at Ba Sing Se. Getting little jabs at him was the only thing that was really helping her from loosing her cool around him.

Katara: I'm sorry. I'm just laughing at the irony. You know... how it would have been nice for us if you lost your firebending a long time ago? Zuko: Well it's not lost. It's just weaker for some reason. Katara: Maybe you're just not as good as you think you are. Toph: Ouch.

He just finished yelling at Aang and Sokka but all he does is glare at Katara. She does it again, but to be fair, he kind of set himself up for it.

Zuko: It's a sacred form that happens to be thousands of years old! Katara: Oh yeah? What's your little form called? Zuko: ...The Dancing Dragon.

Then comes post The Southern Raiders and...yeah, she's still picking on him and he still lets her. Granted it's a lot more playful this time around.

Zuko: They make me totally stiff and humorless. Katara: Actually, I think that actor's pretty spot on. Zuko: How could you say that? Actor Uncle: Let's forget about the Avatar and get massages. Actor Zuko: How could you say that?! (Cut back to Katara wearing a satisfied grin on her face and she looks to an expressionless Zuko as he slouches in his seat.)

I love pointing it out every time. She teases him and he does nothing about it.

Katara: Er, no. I was looking for cooking pots in the attic and I found this. Look at baby Zuko! Isn't he cute? Oh lighten up, I was just teasing.

And she admits it!

-

So what can we take away from this? From what little time they were given together (thanks, Bryke) it seems that Zuko and Katara really understand each other on an intimate emotional level. They can sense when the other is distressed and offer comfort. They're both passionate in and out of combat, for better or for worse. They're comfortable with each other as if they've known each other for years even though it's such a short time. Katara also likes to add a little bit of playfulness in there with Zuko letting her have her fun, again, showing how comfortable they are with each other.

I do think their relationship could have gone to romantic sooner than later if you would have given it a bit more time. Like first half of a hypothetical Book 4.

To me, at least.

[algumaideia]

The ableism in the Acotar series

I was thinking about all the problematic aspects of the Acotar books, and I realized that they are pretty ableist. I don’t know if someone have already talked about it, but just in case I’ll do it. But before I start, I need to say some things:

1. I haven’t read the series for a while, and I don’t remember some stuff. So, I might write something that is wrong.

2. I’m not disabled myself. This post is based on my research about disabilities and how disabled people are represented in the media. I have a lot of interest in the subject, and I also researched about it because I’m writing a story with several disabled characters. I also did a school project about assistive technologies.

3. English is not my mother language and I’m still learning it. There are gonna be spelling and grammar mistakes. I’m sorry about it, but it is life.

4. I haven’t read the acosf book, so maybe SJM changed the story or some character in this book and therefore my post will be incorrect.

5. Besides the fact that I consider Emerie to be disabled, I won’t talk about her in the post. Because as I said I didn’t read acosf and I think that her appearance in the acofas has the same purpose that the other female Illyrians (since Idk how to write Illyrians this will be write wrong in the entire post, I’m sorry).

6. I forget the name of some characters and I don’t want to search it, so I’ll just give them new names.

Now let’s begin.

I’ll analyze the following characters in this post: Papa Acheron, Lucien, Cassian and Ianthe, the woman from the library and the female Illyrians, the female creature from the forest, the Illyrian soldiers that came back from the war and the girl who couldn’t fly. I think I forgot someone, but patience. In the end of the post I’ll talk about disabilities, ableism and worldbuilding.

I also would like to say that almost all her characters got their disability as a punishment, and the problem with this is that it always links disability with something bad.

Papa Acheron:

As I said Papa Acheron got his disability as a punishment, since he didn’t pay his debts, some people went in this house and broke his leg. I might be wrong, but I think that it didn’t healed well and because of that he has chronic pain. So, to better analyze him I’ll compare him to two other characters with chronic pain, Kaz Brekker and Melissa, one of my main characters.

Papa Acheron became useless after he became disabled. He thought he was useless and by extension Feyre thought it too. I’m not saying that internalized ableism doesn’t exist, but the narrative never calls it out. Feyre accepts this excuse, it is kind of implied that if he weren’t disabled, he would be able to help his family and get money. Now let’s look to Kaz (I haven’t read the second book of the duology, please no spoilers). He accepts his disability, not only that but he uses his cane as one of his symbols. He goes against the idea that a disabled person is stuck with a cane or a wheelchair or whatever. He feels free with his cane. Now, this doesn’t mean that every disabled character needs to feel okay with his disability. My character, Melissa, feels a lot of anger because of her chronic pain. It hurts her, it disrupts her plans, it makes her suffer. However, it didn’t stop her to live her life and she also is not seeking anyone’s pity, which is very different from the Papa Acheron situation. Mel has friends, a social life, she studies, she will have a job, she will date, get married and have children. She doesn’t feel mad because she is disabled, she is also autistic, and she loves that part of herself. What bothers her is that her disability makes her feels a lot of pain. Papa Acheron is just someone to you feel bad and angry about. He doesn’t do anything because he is disabled and believes that this makes his useless and the narrative kind of agrees with him.

Lucien:

Lucien doesn’t have one eye, and that’s what makes him disabled. He became disabled as a punishment for falling in love with a lesser fae and not only that, but he is only without his mechanic/magic eye when he is on his worse. He was without his eye when his family was torturing and banishing him. And then when he was UTM. Again, disability being connected with bad things. Now about his mechanic eye. The first time that Feyre describes his eye she says it is creepy. Which is bad. But also, why it had to be magic and give him the ability to see spells or something like that (this was never brought back btw)? Why can’t he have a normal mechanical eye? Why he needs a mechanical eye? Why does his mechanical eye need to compensate the fact he is disabled? He is as much complete with and without his eye.

Cassin and Ianthe:

I put this two together for one reason, their disabilities were cured. I’ll talk about Cassian first. When they invaded Hybrein (I also don’t know how to write the name of the country) they hurt his wings badly. And considering that to Illyrians the wings are as much a limb as an arm or a leg, he was disabled for a while. (I’m aware that to something be considered a disability it needs to be long lasting. But I think that the fact that it was cured is ableist, if I’m not wrong the text said it was a miracle he was healed.)Then we had Cassian in the floor with his wings all damaged, suffering a lot, what a horrible scene. But don’t worry! The next time he’ll appear completely cured, because being disabled is such a horrible thing and SJM never used deus ex machina to save her characters. So, this injured made him disabled for a while, and it could be interesting. The wings are the Illyrian symbol, the symbol of their toxic masculinity and their sexism. Cassian being disabled because of his wings would make him revalue his culture and his own idea of masculinity and it would be so amazing. But he was cured. I think that this makes Cassian falls in the disabled for one day trope. Just like Ianthe. First the way she became disabled was disgusting. Feyre invading her mind was such a horrible thing to do. I’m not denying that Ianthe is a terrible person/fae but that doesn’t change the fact that it was a horrible scene. I really dislike characters with telepathic powers, because for me their powers are crossing a line. They invade and control someone’s mind. They take off the person free will. They basically turn the person in a robot. If I remember correctly when Feyre made Ianthe broke her hand it was with the purpose to make it useless. And when she appeared again in all her glory she was, surprise, surprise, cured.

The woman from the library and the female Illyrians:

I put they together because their disabilities are used for the same two purposes. The first is that they became disabled as a punishment for being female, and the second it to show how FEMINIST Rhysand is. He isn’t feminist, so all these women suffered for nothing. Again, disability being linked with bad things. The symbol of the female Illyrians suffering is they becoming disabled. NOT GOOD AT ALL. About the woman from the library, she was there to also show how good Feyre is. She is there so we can feel pity of her. She didn’t deserve it.

The female creature who couldn’t see:

My problem with her is that it is implied/said that she has better senses because she is blind. And that’s not how it works?? People just pay more attention in what they hear, touch or smell when they are blind/visually impaired.

The girl who couldn’t fly:

I'm gonna call her Anna. First Anna is like the only character who just have a disability. No trauma, no war, no punishment. She just has. Then she is a great disabled character, right? Wrong. She has inspirational porn written all over her story. She is there to make Feyre feel better about herself and make other abled people/fae feel inspired. She is there so we can say: ohhh poor thing, but at least she overcame her disability and now can fly. So ableist. Anna is also only valued after proving herself useful. That is wrong. Disabled people should be valued because they are people. They don’t need to be amazing in anything to be treated with respect.

The Illyrian soldiers:

My problem with them is how their disability is used to reinforce sexism and make Cassian and Rhysand feel bad. But what about the Illyrian soldiers? How are they feeling? It seems this is not important. They also bother me because of worldbuilding questions.

Disabilities, ableism and worldbuilding:

First, why humans and fae feel the same about disabled people? Feyre has the same opinion the IC have. And the humans and fae were separated for 500 years. This doesn’t make sense. Every court think the same thing about disabled fae? Does something change if the disabled fae is a lesser or a higher fae? It should make a difference. A real world example of how social class affects the way disabled people are treated: the first school for deaf people created only taught children of the nobles.

And why the way people look to disabled fae didn’t change after the war? What about the assistive technology? You know what, it is unrealistic the fact that we don’t have any assistive technology in this world. But this happen in the antient times, how could there be any assistive technology? First, assistive technology is everything that helps a disabled person, a cane, a screen reader, a scooter. Everything can be an assistive technology. Second, assistive technologies exist since the antiente times. One of the oldest prothesis were found in a mummy. There is a painting of Hephaestus using a wheelchair. And considering that this series happens in what was supposed to be the Middle ages, it was supposed to have assistive technologies. Wheelchairs during this time were heavy and the user couldn’t use it by himself, but they existed. There are records of a king using a wheelchair during the middle ages. And I mean with the war something was supposed to change. The first place to blind people in the France was created because 300 soldiers came back from the crusades without their eyes. It was in the century 20 that disabled people started to be more included in the society. And one of the reasons were the soldiers that came back from WW1 and WW2 disabled. Not only that but in war times the technology improves, so a lot of new assistive technologies and materials were created during this time. The first record of guide dogs comes from 1819 in school in Vienna, but it didn’t work. Only after WW1 that guide dogs appeared again. And you know with what purpose? Help veterans that were blind due to the war. Braille was a system used for the French army during battles. Louis Braille only made it simpler. The war should change something.

Why is the world ableist?  The excuse that this is an antient society doesn’t work my friend. The Egypt was a very including country. Blind people could be part of any social class. Dwarfs were part of the society since they had a dwarf god. In antient Japan blind people were expected to be independent. They could work with music, religion, telling stories etc. And the work of telling stories was very important since it made the Japanese tradition to continue. The excuse that this is an antient society is just this, an excuse. Now she could have used to say something. Leigh Bardugo used the ableism of her world to criticize the ableism of our world. I’m doing the same thing with my story. SJM made an ableist world just because.

That was my analysis. I’m sorry this was very long. I know this was a little confusing, but it was very difficult to put all the stuff that was in my mind in text. In my mind everythig made sense, but when I was writing it I realized I wasn’t following a logical argument. If that makes sense. Anyway, thank you for reading it.

If you read the books and realized I wrote something wrong, please tell me. If you are disabled and think I said something offensive, I’d love to hear you. If you are non-disabled and want to comment and give your opinion, feel free. And if you don’t want to comment, don’t do it. You can do whatever you want.

Best regards,

Me.

Ps. This is my first post in Tumblr, so I don’t know if I tagged it right, if you want to help, I would be really grateful.

[heliads]

Radio Silence Chapter Five: Can You Hear Me Now?

Poe Dameron has been assigned to work as an intel receiver to Acer, a Resistance recon agent. They’ve only ever talked through the comms, so when she’s captured by First Order troops he assumes she’s lost forever. When Poe accidentally rescues the absolutely infuriating Resistance spy Y/N L/N from a First Order Star Destroyer, he knows she’s got nothing do with with Acer. Right?

previous / series masterlist / next

What does he do now? What in all the stars is Poe supposed to do now?

Poe checks with another flight officer, two hanger clearance workers, and a recon lieutenant. All of them say the exact same thing: Y/N L/N left on a mission two standard hours ago. Yes, she’ll be going to the Core Worlds. Yes, they are aware that the mission will be dangerous. No, they cannot promise that she will be alright.

The worst part is that there’s this gnawing sensation of guilt that won’t leave him. When Acer was first captured, Poe had felt terrible, but there was nothing he could have done differently to save her. He had been stranded on the other side of the galaxy, and he didn’t even know her name or where she was held. Now, on the other hand, Poe can picture the cheekily grinning face of Y/N L/N, bloodied from wounds and staggering through the corridors of a First Order base. 

Some part of him almost thinks that this was his fault, that if he hadn’t blown up at her for not telling him she was Acer she might have stayed. Poe knows this couldn’t be true, that she’d been training for this mission almost since she had gotten back, but the shard of guilt still stays locked away inside of him, stopping Poe from forgetting about her. It is a little true, isn’t it? If Poe had never opened that crate and he hadn’t taken out that data file, he never would have known. He wouldn’t have been filled with that same anger and betrayal, and he wouldn’t have yelled at Y/N for keeping it a secret. 

What would have happened then? Would she have told him before she left, or would it stay a secret? At any rate, they would have had a better goodbye then the broken one in the hall. Poe can still feel regret burning up inside of him- Y/N had been minutes away from the riskiest mission in her life, and instead of making her smile one last time, Poe had ripped away any possibility of peace.

Y/N’s mission will likely last a week or two. It isn’t another spy reassignment, it’s an excursion into the Core Worlds. The roles have switched, and now it is Y/N foraying into First Order territory to rescue a recon officer, most likely managing to steal some plans for the newly built First Order battleships and armored cruisers while she’s there. It wouldn’t surprise him- Y/N has had a knack for gathering intel, a trait that had served her well during her undercover work as Acer. Poe can only hope that she’ll be able to stay alive during this mission as well.

Poe does his best to keep his stress under wraps, but evidently he’s not doing a great job of hiding his emotions because he’s approached by a commanding officer a few days into Y/N’s assignment. Leia, thank the suns, has taken pity on him and allowed him access to the command room where all details of the mission will be broadcasted. As Poe walks through the doors, he takes in the navscreen readouts and officers speaking into comlinks, checking in on the pilots and allies who could be in contact with Y/N’s team.

His attention, however, is drawn to the center of the room, where a large circular table displays holo footage from the mission. There’s a live map, allowing Leia to track the progress of Y/N’s team through the Core Worlds. This is the best information they have on the team- other than the comlinks, it was too dangerous to be in contact any further. This close to the First Order, any errant comms channels could be picked up on their scanners.

Poe keeps making excuses to drop by the room and see what’s happening. He doesn’t do anything unless asked directly, just stands in a corner and watches the proceedings. He can feel eyes occasionally flickering over him, officers surely wondering why Poe is this focused on an  important but unrelated mission. Poe doesn’t say anything, just watches and makes sure Y/N is still okay. After the days begin to pass, the eyes stop watching him and he blends back into the background.

One day, Poe swings by the command center on his way back from meeting with his X-Wing squadron to find the room in a state of utter panic. Everyone looks frantic, with a cluster of people huddled around the central table speaking hurried commands into the comms. Poe jogs up to Leia, who is staring anxiously at the readout in front of them. “What’s going on?” Leia gestures towards the map in front of them, which shows Y/N’s ship. Usually, the vessel is rendered as a simple white dot, but now it is blinking a furious red.

“They were attacked by a group of First Order soldiers on the ground. They managed to get into space and take off, but they were surrounded by fighters. The ship has been hit pretty hard, and they’re having trouble steering. They have been able to get away from the enemy ships, but there’s no telling whether or not they’ll be able to make it. The ship is falling apart as we speak.” Leia says, her knuckles clenched around the edge of the table. Poe’s pulse feels like it’s skyrocketing. They’ve been attacked already?

There’s a shaking command officer standing across the table from Poe, speaking to someone over the comms. With a rush, Poe realizes he’s speaking to Y/N, trying to give her instructions on how to fix the ship. From the tone of the man’s voice, it isn’t going well. Leia notices this as well. “Ervann, you’re supposed to be talking her through it, not raising her stress level.” The man- Ervann- looks up, face harried. “I’m doing my best. I don’t know what to do, so many systems are down on the ship.”

Poe’s jaw clenches. He can’t just sit back and watch Y/N go down, not if he can do something. Poe rushes around to the side of the table with the comms, forcing Ervann to the side. “Let me do this.” He flips on the comms system once more. “Y/N, you still read us? It’s me.” He doesn’t have to say anything more, not a name, not a call sign. Y/N knows who he is. “Yeah, I read you.” Poe nods. “What’s wrong with the ship?” He can hear her sigh in a rush of static. “You might want to ask me what’s working, I think that will be faster. We sustained heavy fire from the fighters and a lot of parts are down. No shields, electric power is flickering, and oh- we lost an engine.”

Poe starts. “You lost an entire engine?” In the background of the comms, he can hear warning lights from Y/N’s end. “Yeah, the left engine. Shot away.” Poe takes a deep breath, trying to visualize everything in the ship. “Alright, let’s get to work. You’re in a Solarbeam, right? That means your failsafe systems should be pretty good. There’s a lever on the console, probably under the hyperspace controls. Turn it on, and force your power to balance unevenly, hinging on the left. 60-40, a little more for the left engine.”

There’s the sound of whirring machinery, and then Y/N’s voice comes back on the line. “Done.” Poe taps his fingers absentmindedly on the table in front of him. “Alright, good work. Now leave the cockpit and head over to the side of the ship. You’ll want to disengage the fuel rods to the left engine so it doesn’t blow up on you.” Poe can hear a slight grin in Y/N’s voice. “That would be less good, yes.”

Poe can’t help but smirk. “Hey, this is important work. Nothing like that trick with the couplings, anyone could do that.” He can practically see Y/N before him, her jaw dropping in mock horror. “Excuse me, you were very impressed when I knew about that. You were stunned, in fact.” Poe shrugs. “You only knew about that from me, so it’s okay.” Y/N laughs, the sound crackling into static as it runs through the air. “You’re insufferable. Get somebody else on the line to help me.”

Poe rolls his eyes. “Nobody else knows your ship like I do. You need me.” Y/N groans. “It’s the return of Mr. Know-It-All Mechanic. Well, bravo to you for being such a genius.” Poe snorts. “That’s a terrible joke. I thought you were supposed to be an ace at this.” Y/N laughs. “And you think I’m bad? That was class-A terrible.”

Poe feels a quiet smile deepen across his face when he hears her laugh. He hadn’t intended on speaking to her at all during the mission, too sure that she wouldn’t want to hear from him. Yet when he had been standing there, listening to the panic growing in her voice as she spoke to Ervann, Poe knew he had to do something. He couldn’t stay silent in a moment like that. Hearing her laugh now makes Poe’s shoulders finally sink with relief. They can handle the repairs now, the two of them. They’re alright again.

Poe stays on the line for another hour, talking Y/N through the ship repairs. At last, she’s able to get the battered Solarbeam cruiser to limp back to a safe planet, where she’ll be able to buy more parts and have less of a chance of blowing up on impact. They say their goodbyes, and then the line clicks off once more. Poe leans his arms up against the table, spent. He’d been running on adrenaline for so long that even just talking about the repairs was exhausting. Poe has no idea how Y/N was managing, but a bubble of pride is still rising through him at the thought of it.

Poe looks up, realizing the area at the central table is silent. Leia is watching him with something that looks almost like a knowing smile, which worries him. Ervann raises an eyebrow. “I didn’t expect all that. I thought you hated her.” Poe straightens up, heading towards the door. “I’m not heartless. Not when it comes to her.” 

The mission continues. The days progress. Although Y/N’s team still gets into a couple of scrapes, nothing is as bad as that one incident, so Poe can continue to breathe normally. He still checks the command center at least once per day, but he’s never seen that level of panic again, which is good. He knows Y/N has an uncanny knack for making it out of tough situations, he just hopes she doesn’t keep having to prove it.

Just when Poe is finally looking forward to Y/N’s imminent arrival back at the base, the lights on the command center’s holoscreen start flickering, flashing in and out of existence. Poe’s eyes widen from his corner of the room, and he watches as Leia hurries over to a nearby comlink. “L/N, what’s going on?” When Y/N responds, her voice is weak, as if the signal on her end of the comms is dipping in and out of focus. “Not much… I can’t hear… You’re breaking up…” Y/N’s end of the line disappears in a shower of static, and then no other sounds come from the comms.

On the screen in front of them, the small dot designating Y/N’s ship vanishes one last time. Around them, tech crews scramble to patch back the comms channel or get any hold on the ship, but nothing happens. Leia’s brow furrows. “She mentioned that they were having problems with their comms systems. I don’t think we’ll be able to access them for the rest of their return journey.” Poe stiffens. “You mean she’s permanently cut off? What if something happens?” Leia fixes her gaze on him. “Then we wait.”

Waiting, as it turns out, is one of the most painful parts of this entire process. They have no way of knowing where Y/N’s ship is at all, if it’s still moving. The day for their expected arrival comes and goes, with no sign of them at all. Resistance scanners pick up word of increased First Order air traffic, and some skirmishes at the edge of the airspace. No one says what they’re all thinking, which is that the First Order wouldn’t come this far over unless they were following a potential threat. If Y/N’s ship was under fire again and it sustained more injury, it could go down entirely. This time, Poe can’t reach her to help. Y/N and her team are on their own. 

Three days have passed since the expected arrival. Three days of gnawing, suffocating fear that blocks out any other rational thought in Poe’s mind. He practically lives in the command center along with Leia and the other command officers, glued to that navscreen in the hopes that something will happen and they’ll be able to reach Y/N’s team once more. Nothing happens, and Poe can feel his nerves growing with every hour.

At last, on the fourth day, a hanger operator bursts into the room. All eyes turn to her, and she stands there for a moment, panting after the exertion of having run across the base. “There’s a ship in the hanger. It’s a Solarbeam, one that couldn’t respond to our comms. We think it might be them.” Poe’s head snaps up, and he isn’t aware that he’s running back through the corridors until he looks around and realizes where he is. Poe isn’t alone- the other command officers are pacing hurriedly beside him. No one says a word, terrified to break the fragile silence and somehow dispel the hope that Y/N’s team has returned.

The ship in the hanger is battered and broken. It’s a minor miracle that it managed to land at all. Poe’s eye catches on the left side, where an engine appears far newer than the one on the right. Y/N mentioned that the ship was missing an engine, so if she managed to get it fixed then this could be her. The access ramp opens with a shower of sparks and creaking metal. One figure limps down, clutching the railing. Poe can see a dingy bandage wrapped around his leg, evidence of a blaster shot. 

A second figure appears, walking down to support the first. There’s a pause, and Poe finds that his pulse is pounding in his head. Where is she- why is no one else coming out? Finally, a pair of scuffed military-grade boots appear at the boarding ramp, and a third figure descends from the ship. Poe feels his gaze lock on her. Y/N L/N is looking fairly worse for wear. There are the shadows of bruises lining her arms, and there are several blood-laced scrapes on her face. Yet she still looks utterly whole, the person he’s been wanting to see for days.

Y/N steps down from the ship, shaking hands with excited Resistance workers and nodding a greeting to Leia. She makes her way through the crowd, leaving the command officers behind to examine the other two members of her team. All of a sudden, she’s standing in front of him, her eyes at last meeting his. Poe has been waiting for this moment for a long time, yet now that she’s here, he has no idea what to say. Does he apologize, tell her that he was wrong to be so upset? Does he congratulate her on the success of the mission?

When Poe looks up, he realizes he’s kissing her. One hand is pressed against the small of her back, drawing her close. When he breaks away, she’s staring at him, and for a second Poe thinks he’s really done the wrong thing and she’ll hate him for the rest of his life. Then she leans forward and kisses him back, and Poe finds that he doesn’t care about anything else. Not the surprised looks of the hanger operators around them, or the whistles from that distinctly useless Ervann. The only thing that matters is Y/N right in front of him. This is far more eloquent than words, isn’t it?

radio silence tag list: @kesskirata​, @ubri812​, @itsnottilly​, @20th-centu-fairy-girl​, @imabeautifulbutterfly​, @cp11​, @chocolitelady​