#anyway hopefully this came out actually coherent

[mansplainmanipulatemalewife]

Cas does care about Crowley; I think he realizes that sometime around s6, but to accept that would be to acknowledge that a lot of his actions are motivated by selfishness more so than a desire to do the right thing. The cognitive dissonance that causes, especially after TMWWBK, is why he convinces himself that what he feels for Crowley is hatred and betrayal - anything more would require a level of introspection and self-acceptance that he’s not prepared to deal with.

This is, in many ways, a result of the fact that he’s learnt how to be human from Dean, who has passed on his rigid, black-and-white mindset that for someone do bad things they must either be inherently evil or devoid of agency. There’s no space in Dean’s, and therefore Cas’, worldview for good people to simply make mistakes, so to keep himself from mirroring Dean’s spiral into self-loathing he must believe that he had no say in the events of seasons 6 and 7. Crowley never forced Cas to make any of the choices he did, only offered them up as possibilities, but that requires acknowledging the consequences of his actions, and it’s far easier to see a demon as inherently evil than to take the same view of himself.

[forever-rogue]

Bee you’re so amazing and sweet and kind and I hope you know what a beautiful positive impact you’re on this site 💙

I saw you’re accepting Steven Grant requests and my heart is singing cause I miss him so much!!! Might I suggest sweet and shy Steven finding every excuse available to go see you at work but never working up the courage to ask you out until one day he thinks someone else will ask you on a date and he finds his courage to do it first?

AN | I’ve missed him! He’s the best and I’m glad he’s back😌

Pairing | Steven Grant x Fem!Reader

Warnings | None

Word Count | 2.9k

Masterlist | Main, Moon Knight

── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──

"Your friend is here again," Cameron's voice caused you to look up from the espresso machine. You looked around the cafe in confusion, "well, your favorite customer."

"My favorite customer?" You echoed as Cameron laughed. There were a lot of people who came in on a regular basis so you had no clue as to who they could be referring to, "umm…who?"

"I think his name is Steven?" At the sound of his name your entire face lit up. Alright, maybe you did have a favorite customer, "so I was right!"

"I don't know what you're talking about," you lied, your entire face flushing with warmth, "he's just like anyone else. He just happens to be extra nice."

"He's been walking around outside for like ten minutes now," you peeked past Cameron and looked outside, indeed finding him pacing around. You couldn't help but giggle at him, "wonder if he'll actually come in."

"I'm sure he will," you certainly hoped so anyway, "maybe he's just waiting for a call or something."

"Or maybe his favorite barista is making him nervous and he's trying to get his act together," Cameron suggested as you shrugged innocently, "he's finally going to ask you out!"

“Oh my - stop!” you were laughing nervously and trying to hide your flaming face. You were definitely trying not to imagine him actually asking you on a date. It was a scenario you had imagined and daydreamed of about a thousand times before. But never once had you allowed yourself to believe that it might actually come true. And yet…you shook your head to yourself as you aggressively scrubbed a spot on the counter that you hoped was burnt chocolate and not anything else. You could feel Cameron’s eyes focused on you, “listen. I-I’m not going to flatter myself and think that he might actually like me.”

“And just why not, miss ma’am?” they asked as you shrugged, mumbling something under your breath. They were still waiting for your answer as you turned around and groaned loudly, “I’m telling you, and I would never lie to you, that is something is definitely there between the two of you. Like a spark or something.”

“Cam-” you cast another look outside and found Steven still there. Utter panic and confusion was etched onto his handsome face and you made a small sound of concern. You hoped that nothing was wrong, “he’s like a friend at best.”

“But he could be more if you’d both stop being such weenies,” and yeah, you couldn’t deny that they weren’t necessarily wrong. 

“I’m just…I’m gonna go and make sure he’s okay,” you whipped off your apron and tossed it on the counter before walking past the counter and outside the small patio area. At the sound of the bell twinkling over the door, Steven turned around and looked and was immediately surprised to see you standing there. You smiled softly and held up your hand in a small wave, “hey Steven.”

“H-hi,” he stammered nervously, cheeks immediately darkening as he took you in. The reality was that he’d been trying to work up the courage to come in and see you, and hopefully not make a fool of himself. It seemed like every time he saw, his brain turned to absolute mush and he wasn’t able to form even a single coherent sentence. A part of him that had hoped that by now he’d be able to actually hold a conversation with you but that seemed like an impossible challenge. 

“Is everything alright?” you asked softly and his eyes widened in panic, “I-I don’t mean to pry it was just that we noticed you pacing around. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Yes, of course,” he wasn’t sure if he was more embarrassed by the fact that you’d noticed him pacing, or more touched by the idea that you cared enough to go and check on him. Both…definitely both. You visibly relaxed at the small smile on his face, “I was just…thinking.”

“Oh! Well, we’ve all been there,” the temptation to ask what he was thinking about was almost too great, but you held your tongue. You weren’t sure if he had actually planned on coming inside or if he was going to leave now, but you weren’t ready to part from him, “do you want to come in and I can make you a tea? We’ve just finished baking some fresh biscuits if you’d care to sample.”

“You want me to come in?” he pointed at himself, almost in disbelief and wanting to make sure you were sure. He wouldn’t flatter himself with the idea that you wanted to spend time with him. But what if…

“Yes, silly! Who else?” you put your hand on his arm and gently motioned for him to follow you. Once reality caught up with him, he smiled and eagerly followed into the warm, cozy cafe. He’d learned to love spending time here, especially whenever his schedule coincided with yours, “c’mon!”

“Right behind you,” he promised gently. He was at the point where he was pretty sure that he’d already follow you whenever you went. And that realization was both exciting and terrifying, “right behind you.”

── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──

Steven, sweet, shy Steven had grown very fond of you. Or in love with you as Marc liked to put. He didn’t necessarily agree or disagree on that account. He often came in when you were working if his schedule coincided with yours. He’d more or less memorized the days and times you worked but in truth it had been accidental. He was keenly aware of a lot of things and you had just become such a regular part of his life and he had become very attuned to you. 

It was a dreary afternoon when Steven got off work, and on a weekend on top of it, he decided he could do with a warm afternoon pick-me-up. And he’d get to see you, which was a definite pick-me-up on its own. There was a definite spring to his step as he made his way over to your little cafe, and he even allowed himself to daydream of asking you on a date. It was something that he’d thought about often, more than he ever dared to admit, but he just couldn’t manage to turn into a reality. 

Marc had even tried to coach him on it, encouraging him to finally ask you instead of just talking about it. Steven had almost even felt ready to do it, but then he just…couldn’t. He’d see your pretty face and that sugar sweet smile and he’d practically melt into a puddle. A puddle that couldn’t do much more than stare longingly at times. 

But today felt different. Today felt like the day he might actually have the courage in his bones to ask you. Maybe it was an overinflated sense of self or something in the air but it all just felt so right. Feeling extra bold, he even allowed himself to stop at one of the small street vendors and purchase a small bouquet of flowers. You’d mentioned it once in passing that you liked daisies more than anything and once he spotted them he knew he was going to grab them for you.

By the time he made his way into the cafe, his eyes were already scanning the place for you. When he spotted you, he grew delighted and was ready to rush over. When he realized the current situation you were in, he stopped in his tracks and inhaled sharply. 

You were standing at the counter, leaning on your elbows as you chatted away with some customer. A very handsome customer from what Steven could discern from only seeing his backside. His heart practically dropped into his stomach at the sweet expression on your face. You were clearly invested into the conversation and that made him take a few steps back and contemplate running out the door. 

As thought you had some kind of sixth sense for him, you looked up and locked eyes with him. His big, brown eyes softened but the expression on his face was nothing short of panic as you waved cheerily at him. He held up the flowers in return as your curiosity piqued - who were the flowers for? You, a part of your heart secretly wished. 

“Hi Steven!” you excused yourself from the other - a friend maybe? - and went over to him, “fancy meeting you here.”

“I could say the same to you,” he managed to tease in return, heart beating wildly inside his chest. You always managed to make him nervous, butterflies exploding in his stomach and heart practically stopping. He felt more like a boy rather than a grown man, but it was a feeling he still managed to love and crave. He looked down at the flowers in his hands and back at your inquisitive eyes before deciding to just do it. It was now or never, “t-these are for you.”

“For me?” and yeah. He instantly knew he’d made the right decision as soon as the simple question escaped your lips. He nodded shyly before handing them over to you, “oh my goodness. They’re daisies! I love them - Steven, I…thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he stammered over his words and found it almost impossible to meet your eyes. He was sure he would have melted into a puddle then and there, “I should umm… I can see-”

“Come on,” you were almost pleading with him. And honestly, who was he to say no to you? You almost skipped behind the counter, grabbing a large pitch and filling it with cool water before putting your new flowers into it. Each step was done with gentle reference before you turned back to him, “what can I make you?”

“Oh, you don’t have to-” he leaned against the counter and tried to play you off, but you weren’t having it. You put your hand on top of his and gave it a gentle squeeze, and his heart almost stopped.

“Don’t even try that on me, Steven,” you insisted and he just made a small sound in response, “your regular or can I try something new and surprise you?”

“Surprise me,” he squeaked as you busied yourself with making him something special. You continually surprised him and it was one of the things he was coming to adore about you. He decided to be bold and push his luck and see if he could get a little information about the man that you had been chatting to. Just you know…out of sheer curiosity. For science…or something like that,  “busy day?”

“Oh you know, just the usual,” you waved your hand around, brow furrowed in concentration and tongue peeking out of your mouth, “average weekend afternoon. Lots of tourists and all that. What about you?”

“There’s a new exhibit on the old kingdom of Egypt at the museum,” he tried to contain his excitement; he loved talking about his job and he knew you liked hearing about it but he didn’t want to bore you either. He was still trying to figure out where the line was, “so lots of crowds, but they all seemed excited, which makes it worthwhile.”

“That’s great,” you smiled at it, handing him the beverage you had made specially for him, “I’d love to see sometime! I’ll have to come by sometime when you’re working, and you can give me the tour. If you’d like…”

“I’d love that,” his entire face lit up as you made up your mind that you would see him as soon as got an afternoon off when he was working, “there’s so much I could show you.”

“I’m sure you could,” you agreed as you went to grab him a fresh pastry, “Steven, I-”

Before you could manage to say anything else, you heard your name being called from the back. You sighed softly and gave Steven an apologetic look before turning towards the kitchen, “sorry, duty calls - I’ll talk to you later, alright?”

“Of course, yes, definitely,” his entire face was falling as he watched you walk away. Realistically he knew that you were at work and had to attend to your job but it still wished you could stay. There was something so magnetic about you that continued to draw him in. You were like a warm, sweet hot chocolate on a rainy afternoon, or a gentle, soft breeze on a perfect spring day, “bye…”

Alright, he was really ging to need to do something and either ask you out finally or just let this all go and move on. But being stuck in this odd limbo of sorts was only to make things worse or continue to break his heart. And, he wagered with himself, if he asked you out and you said no, he’d know where he stood. But…it would still break his heart a little if you only wanted to be friends.

What a dilemma indeed. 

Marc was going to kick his ass later for not asking you out today when he had the perfect opportunity to say so. 

Heck.

-── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──

Steven kept his distance for a few days, which you definitely noticed. You were sure that he was busy with work and life and tried not to let it bother you but you definitely missed his presence. It was hard not to notice the absence of the sunshine he brought in all the time. 

Steven, meanwhile, had been trying to work up the nerve to come and see you. He had promised himself (and Marc) that the next time he saw you he was going to ask you out. There were no if ands or buts at this point. Unless, you know, there was an emergency or something…then it would just be rude. Anyway - 

He made his way to the cafe and came inside without allowing himself to have any second thoughts. To his dismay and chagrin, he found the same customer from the other day chatting you up again. Talk about bad timing. He waited until the man left and made a beeline over to you.

“Hey there!” you looked at him with starry eyes and a bright smile, “I’ve missed you!”

“Hi, I - wait. You’ve missed me?” he asked softly as you nodded, “it’s been a busy few days.”

“You don’t have to explain to me,” you insisted, “just know that whenever I get to see you I’m happy.”

“Will you go out with me?” he blurted his question out before he could take it back or have any second thoughts. You blinked at him owlishly a few times, trying to make sure that you’d heard him correctly. When you saw the pretty pink blush creeping into his neck and cheeks you were positive you’d heard him correctly.

“Like on a date?” you asked, you know, just to clarify. 

“Y-yeah,” he answered nervously as you inhaled sharply, a sound of excitement, “I-I am. Unless you’re dating someone already! Like-like that guy you were talking to earlier.”

“James?” you made a sound of amusement before waving off the idea that you had anything romantic with him, “he’s my cousin! He’s been here visiting, that’s all.”

“Oh,” his embarrassment was quickly overshadowed by his excitement and nerves. That meant…, “oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” you teased lightly, “but umm…if the offer still stands, then I’d love to take you up on it.”

“You want to go on a date?” he pointed at himself as you giggled, unable to stop yourself from the incredulous look on his face, “with me?”

“Yes!” you hoped that he could understand just how much you wanted this too. The idea of asking him out had crossed your mind several times and you had almost done it yourself but the right situation just hadn’t come up, “I’d really like that.”

“Right, yeah, me too,” he seemed almost like he was incredibly surprised by your eagerness, “so then it’s a date.”

“It’s a date,” you confirmed, a saccharine silence falling over the two of you. You swallowed the nervous lump in your throat, “how does tonight work? I’m off in about an hour.”

“Tonight?!” you hoped he wasn’t getting cold feet now that the reality of an actual date hit him. You shrugged sheepishly before nodding, “yeah…tonight works. That’d be…great.”

“Good,” you couldn’t stop yourself from leaning over to press a kiss to his cheek, “do you want to wait or meet me back here later?”

“I’ll wait,” he touched the spot on his cheek that had been blessed by your lips, a starry look on his face, “maybe with a tea in the meantime?”

“I can do that,” yeah, you liked this guy a lot. And you were excited to see where it could all go, “that sounds perfect.”

“Yes,” he agreed, “perfect.”

[rarityroo]

ok this is me just like losing it and i need some type of comfort but.. mizu x reader who got banned from tiktok for NONREASON 😭

Content comfort

(Modern!Mizu x Gn! Reader)

I’m so sorry but when I first read this giggled a bit. Hopefully you like this, I made it into more of a funny cute fic because I didn’t quite understand the tone of what you wanted that’s probably my fault though. I clearly love writing for Mizu so please do request for her more she’s my actual GF, she’ll always have two pics instead of one whenever I write for her, anyway, Enjoy!🫶🏻

You stared at your phone in disbelief, you looked at the notification, again, and again. It seemed to not fully compute in your head.

As you sat on the couch staring at your phone completely lost, Mizu walked from the kitchen to where you were, the living room, Mizu looked at you with a concerned expression.

“Uh, my love?” Her voice breaks you out of your shock-induced trance. “…yeah?” You slowly said, not fully able to respond coherently. “Are you alright?” Mizu asks cautiously. You look up from your phone and turn your attention to her, “I-I don’t know?” You say disbelief very evident in your voice.

You had no way to explain this, not just the situation to Mizu but why you got banned in the first place. This definitely caught you off guard, Mizu moves closer to you, sitting next to you on the couch. “Tell me.” Mizu softly demands, she’s not one to dance around serious matters especially when they came to you. You look back down at your phone still shocked.

She puts her hand under your chin, making you look up at her when your eyes meet her beautiful blue ones, you take a deep breath, and you finally explain what happened. "So, remember that silly video I posted yesterday with our cat, Vinnie? Well, apparently TikTok didn't appreciate Vinnies moves as much as we did," you confess, trying to lighten the mood with a small chuckle. "They banned me for no reason!” You exclaimed exasperated.

Mizu's eyes widen in surprise, her expression softening into a mischievous grin. "You know…TikTok's loss is our gain," she quips, trying to humor you. "Now we have more time for our own little dance parties with Vinnie without worrying about those silly algorithms." She chuckles softly, nudging you playfully. "Who needs TikTok anyway when we've got our own private entertainment right here?" She gestures to Vinnie rolling on the floor in a crazed manner.

You can't help but smile at her attempt to inject humor into the situation, grateful for her humorous approach. "Yeah, you're right," you say, with a small laugh. "Maybe this is a sign that we should start our own rival app, 'MizuTok' or something." Mizu says in a serious tone, you stop and look at her, you stare a each other for a long moment, then burst out laughing at the idea, imagining the ridiculous videos that would fill that virtual space.

With a small grin on your face and Mizu’s supportive humor, you couldn’t help but feel a bit better.

[world0fmadness]

A LIFE TO LIVE

bård “ faust ” eithun x reader x ( platonic! ) oc daughter

♡ general headcanons for bård as a girl dad!

୨୧ this is very much long overdue since i got the pregnancy headcanons posted quite a while ago now! this was kind of hard to do in some ways since i was trying to write around him being in prison and such but hopefully it is still at least a little coherent hehe! is this good? i hope this is good <3

♡ view my metal masterlists here and here

reading music recommendations: the right way around by daughter - almost fantasy by fog lake

♡ to say that bård just completely fell in love with your daughter as soon as she was born would be one of the biggest understatements in the whole damn book!

୨୧ i mean, he was already in love with her when she was still growing and resting safely inside of your womb but when she was actually born? when he finally got to hold her small form in his arms and gently stroke her soft face? his love grew in ways he did not even think were possible, he thought he had already reached the maximum amount of love his heart could hold but he was oh so wrong and his heart only began to overflow with more true love from the minute she was placed in his arms for the first time…

♡ it might come as a surprise but the many restless nights that came after you gave birth to your daughter would later become just some of bårds absolute favourite memories to think back on later in life! though he often has trouble explaining exactly why he misses that tiring time in particular

୨୧ maybe he just misses awaking to her high pitched cries after what felt like just minutes of falling asleep next to you in your shared bed… maybe he just misses the rush of protectiveness that surged through his tired brain as the fog of sleep quickly cleared and he made sure you were still sleeping peacefully beside him before getting out of bed… maybe he misses picking your daughter up from her comfortable little cot that sits just beside your shared bed and pressing a loving kiss to her soft brown hair before gently bouncing her in a soothing motion as he rests his cheek down against her head to smell her hair… maybe he misses how quickly her cries would quiet down as soon as she was in his arms and how her breathing would even out as she fell back to sleep in his arms before he took her back to your shared bed to spend the rest of the night on his chest instead of in her crib…

♡ i mean, seriously! bård was just such a pro at calming her cries and every single time she got even a little upset, all she seemed to want was to be held in her fathers arms and to hear his gentle voice cooing down at her little cherub face as he brought his warm thumb up to wipe away her tiny tears from her apple red cheeks

“ oh, skatten min… you’re okay now, i have you… ” ( his voice is always so beyond soft and gentle whenever he speaks to her, he is a naturally very quiet speaker anyways but with his little baby girl? he speaks almost in a whisper and chuckles quietly when he hears her squeaks in response to hearing his voice directed at her )

୨୧ of course you could always calm her down and soothe her too but no one seems to do it better than bård does and she seems to just quiet down so much quicker in his arms than yours, she is very obviously a major daddys girl who simply views his arms as the safest and warmest place on this earth!

♡ soothing your daughter just came so incredibly natural to bård! the feelings of protectiveness that surges through his body and the overpowering needs to comfort her when she needs it most are so strong and so blatant in his mind no matter how tired he may be, no matter how exhausted he may be, both you and your daughter sit right at the very front of his mind at all times

୨୧ if your newborn daughter is having a bit of trouble getting back to sleep even after having quieted down from her cries in his arms, bård will usually plant a kiss on your sleeping face before leaving your shared bedroom with your daughter held comfortably in his arms to warm up some milk for her! he would stand by the small window of your apartment kitchen as the milk slowly heated up, his arm gently bouncing her up and down as his free hand points out towards the moon that shines through the glass pane before mumbling down to her about how beautiful it is whilst she stares up at him with sleepy brown doe eyes that mirror his own tired eyes

“ look at that moon, skatten min… you see it, hm? the moon is beautiful but you are much more beautiful, huh? yeah, i think you are… ” ( his face may be riddled with obvious exhaustion from so many sleepless nights with your newborn but a loving smile is still painted across his lips and admiration of his baby is still swirling around so heavily in his eyes as he looks down at her small form in his arms )

♡ when bård has fed her and made sure to burp her too, he is quick to join you back in your warm shared bed with your daughter still held in his arms as he lays flat on his back beside you, stretching his free arm around your sleeping body as you instinctively curl into his side whilst his occupied arm cradles your daughter safely atop his chest… he watches as her chocolate eyes begin to droop before falling completely closes as her breathing evens out and she falls asleep on his chest, very obviously soothed by her fathers soft breathing as his chest would slowly rise up before falling… only when he knows she is fast asleep and secure on top of him is when he will press a final kiss to her head before allowing himself to catch some well deserved winks too…

୨୧ this is where things get ever so slightly messy because in my mind, bård was arrested before your daughter had even turned one! he was swooped up by police just months after her birth but to go along accurately instead of inaccurately just for extra heartbreak, because he was serving a longer sentence than most bård did get weekends of very much temporary freedom to come home to you and his daughter every couple of months and he treasured those weekends so deeply, he did the absolute most he could ever think of doing with the both of you during those short weekends that seemed to fly by far too fast for his liking

♡ when bård had to leave you and your daughter, she could still easily be held in the crook of one arm but by the time he was allowed his first weekend leave, she was already a sweet little toddler with chubby cheeks who was quickly approaching her second birthday! of course he had seen her prior to his leave through simple prison visits when you would bring her along with you to see her father but seeing her outside of the cold feeling visitation room? getting to cuddle both you and her for a whole day with no fear at the back of his mind that it has to come to an end in just a short hour or two? it felt so different and so much more comforting to him, it felt so much more warm for him to wake up beside you in bed before having breakfast and watching cartoons with your daughter… it felt just like old times… it felt like just what he knew life would have been if not for what he had done… he so clearly knew this was the life he could be living every single day instead of occasional weekends if not for what happened that night and every time he has to go back in after a weekend out of prison, his heart seems to break all over again until he tries to just look on the bright side of hopefully getting another leave soon…

୨୧ the first few prison leaves is when his heart would break the most when it was time for him to go back to prison, that is when his heart would completely shatter in his chest at the realisation of just what his life is and will be for years now, it almost always used to end in long hugs being shared between the three of you and many tears being shed but over time, bård does get better at handling his emotions when it is time for him to go and he learns to focus on comforting your daughter as she clings on to him instead of accidentally making her more upset at the sight of her father crying too! do not get me wrong, his heart still breaks when he has to go back to prison but he gets better at hiding it from your daughter who still does not fully understand why she only gets to see him in a cold room or on distant weekends, he only really shows his heartbreak to you in the night before he has to go back where he will almost always completely break down in your arms as you cuddle up in bed

♡ if by some strange miracle bård did not get caught for the murder, it probably would not really change all that much about his feelings in some ways

୨୧ without being caught, he more so just lives with a strong sense of fear and nervousness constantly lurking in his mind as he wonders if every single day will be the day that he finally gets caught and had to leave the two of you! he would almost always be looking over his shoulder and would not even really enjoy leaving the house all that much out of worry that someone would see him and know something about what happened that night… the crippling feelings that surround him hurt so bad, they make him feel so strangely alienated as he realises his daughter will never have a normal father and it pains him to constantly have to think that any day could be his last day of freedom with his family so really, there is no majorly better way for it to turn out as bård would be deeply hurting in both outcomes…

♡ but enough of all that sad stuff, right? let me not just make you guys all melancholic and upset! let me just go back to all of the fluffy moments between him and your small family

୨୧ before everything terrible happened and your daughter was still a newborn, bård used to take her to helvete to visit your shared friend group all the time! sometimes you would join him but other times, you would just let him take her while you stayed back at your shared apartment and had some relaxation on his demand that you deserved it after giving him his baby, that you deserved to have a peaceful nap and a hot bath whilst he took her out for the day! every time, he would leave you with a slightly longing kiss to your soft lips before leaving your shared apartment with your daughter laying comfortably in her warm pram

♡ bård already very much knows he has a perfect little girl! from the second she was born and he got to admire her beautiful little face as she was held in his arms, he had been completely baffled as to how he had any part in co-creating something so beyond perfect… he could certainly understand her beauty coming from you but him too? it made close to no sense to him… he knows she has the most adorable face with big brown eyes that are always filled with such curiosity about the world surrounding her and chubby little cherub cheeks that are downright impossible to resist squishing which only ever causes a gummy smile to spread across her small face but his friends behaviour and actions around her really only demonstrated how obviously perfect she is…

୨୧ so many of his friends would often jokingly give him hell for being so obviously soft for both you and his baby girl but the second he brought her around them, they would crumble so quickly at the sight of her and melt into deep coos about how she was the cutest little thing they had ever seen, about how she was probably the only cute baby they had ever seen and she was so quiet! øystein especially appreciated just how silent she was every single time bård brought her over to helvete, he appreciated how she never seemed afraid of the low black metal record playing as white noise nor the black leather clad men admiring her as she is held up on her fathers hip

♡ seriously, øystein has never heard of a case of a baby being as deadly quiet as yours and bårds is but he certainly is not complaining! he may like loud music but a baby crying and screaming? not so much! he is always offering bård any open shifts at helvete in case he wants some extra cash and he makes sure bård knows that he can certainly bring his little girl along with him if he wants to, he would not mind seeing that adorable little face every time poked his head out of the back office

୨୧ by the time bård gets back from these little helvete visits, all he and your daughter ever want to do is go for a nap with you! he will greet you with a deep kiss before gently grabbing your arm, picking up your daughter in his arms and pulling you to your shared bedroom for a cuddle that will devolve into a deep sleep shared between the three of you within just minutes of becoming tangled under the thick blankets as your daughter rests on his chest

“ you okay, baby? did you have a nice bath? good… you wanna take a nap? i think i need a nap, and her too… ” ( the fact that your daughter needs a nap is always overtly obvious to both you and bård as you share a quiet chuckle at her droopy eyes and the way her head keeps bobbing down to rest on his shoulder as he slowly rocks her in his arms )

♡ before your daughter was even born, bård had picked up an old handheld camera that he often used to record you and completely random yet innocent times of the day during your pregnancy wether it be always zooming in on your bump to record the growth damn near every day, filming blurry close ups of the recent ultrasound you had got printed off, letting you record him as he attempted to assemble the cot before eventually throwing the paper instructions aside and walking off to make a phone call to tomas for some help! the little camera captured so much of your pregnancy and now that your daughter is born? the filming only gets even more common!

୨୧ bård films so much of your daughters life! wether it be simple little things like filming you as you hold her on your hip and help her put a bauble on the tree for her first christmas or filming her as she looks up at the camera from her cot whilst bård coos at her, wether it be bigger things like filming her first steps as both you and bård cheer her on with soft but enthusiastic voices! bård just loves capturing so many memories with her to eventually look back on

♡ you think bård is just going to have a daughter and not be teaching her all about drums as soon as she is old enough? come on! of course he would, he was sitting her on his knee with some thick earmuffs protecting her sensitive ears and playing his drums for her the minute she was old enough to sit up on her own! there are just three things he loves the absolute most in life and that is you, your daughter and his drums… some of the times your daughter was the most reactive in your womb was when you watched him practice and she would begin kicking in response as she obviously heard the drums, he knew right then and there that she would be a natural born drummer before she was even born and he was right!

୨୧ every single time he holds your daughter in his lap and plays some slightly less harsh songs for her, both of you can see her eyes completely flood with curiosity and interest at the muffled sound filling her ears as she watches his drumsticks move in front of her! did he buy her one of those cute little made for kids drum kit for christmas one year? well of course he did! though he would honestly let her practice at his own drums if she wanted to, anything of his is also hers by default in his mind! he will give her his drumsticks and hold her tiny hands in his as he guides her to gently tap the drums, chuckling down at her when she looks up at him in surprise from the noise before looking over at you and sending you a beaming smile

♡ when it was time for your daughter to begin attending primary school, bård told you to use your own surname for hers instead of his like it actually is on her birth certificate! this is not because he does not love her or because he does not see her as his daughter because of course he does, being with you and having her with you will forever be two of his greatest achievements in life but more so because he just absolutely does not want her to lose any opportunities of friendships or be picked on because people know who her father is and what he did… he knows that other children very most likely will not have the slightest idea of who he is at all but their parents likely will and if he knew they were telling their own children to stay away from her because of him? it would completely break his heart and he knows it is absolutely in the realm of shameful possibilities so he just does what he thinks is right and asks you to change her surname to yours when entering her into primary school, definitely not legally but just on the school papers…

୨୧ of course, you agree to do it! because unfortunately, you more than definitely understand exactly where he is coming from when he asks you to do it during one of his weekend visits as your daughter is taking a nap curled up on his lap as you lean into his side on the couch, it breaks your heart as you can so clearly hear how upset it makes him to even think about the idea of having to remove his surname from her even if temporarily, it really pains him to think about her introducing herself to a class and future friends whilst having to use your surname instead of his as was originally planned since her birth! but both of you know it is for the best, no matter how your hearts shatter at the thought of her being so confused as to why she has to use your surname instead of her fathers as she usually does but both of you know he will try to explain it to her the best he can when you guys tell her, he will do his absolute best to make sure she does not know how dark the truth really is just yet

♡ bård takes a really genuine interest in quite literally everything your daughter becomes interested in over the years!

୨୧ if she becomes interested in rocks as a toddler? he will gladly spend his free days taking her on walks through the forest and along little shallow rivers to collect pretty rocks with you by his side! always holding her small hand in his as she keeps her eyes on the ground for any rocks, crouching down to her level whenever he sees her pick one up and speaking with a heightened tone in his voice as he praises her whilst you watch with a smile on your face

“ did you find one, skatten min? show me, let me see… wow, that’s such a pretty one, hm? you gonna keep it? yeah? i would keep that one too… ” ( the big smile that forms on her soft face as she shows him the rock held in her small hand is impossible not to coo at as you watch them together, a bigger smile growing on your own face as you watch him chuckle at her clear excitement before squishing her chubby cheeks and kissing her head before standing back up to continue the walk together )

♡ or maybe she got really into space when she was a pre-teen? bård will read every single book related to space that the prison library has to offer, reading them over and over again to really store the information in his brain for the next time the two of you visit him or he gets a weekend leave! he will let her ramble to him about astronauts and space for hours if she wants to all with a soft smile on his face at how passionate his little girl is, how smart his baby girl is… she has dreams of becoming an astronaut? of course he is going to support her in that! he will spend every weekend leave he gets taking the two of you to space museums if she wants to do that, he will happily watch her nerd out about all of the little exhibitions with a proud smile on his face whilst having an arm wrapped around your waist as you lean your head against the side of his muscular arm and admire your growing daughter

♡ bård often finds himself getting completely lost in love and admiration when watching your daughter do quite literally anything! when she was a newborn he would get so utterly lost in her big chocolate eyes and rosy red cheeks as he held her safely in his arms whilst sitting on the small couch in your shared apartment, only breaking out of his trance when you would come up behind him and hug him from behind before leaning down to press a soft kiss to his pale cheek as he mumbled up to you about just how perfect she is

“ hm… she’s so perfect, baby… thank you for everything… for giving me her, for loving me… ” ( being around your baby makes him so unbelievably soft and willing to let every single one of his thoughts out of his mouth as his eyes stay stuck on his baby whilst talking to you, unable to pull his loving eyes away from her as she sleeps soundly in his arms )

୨୧ when your daughter was still a toddler, bård absolutely loved dressing her! both for obvious necessity and because he gets to make her look so adorable in colourful little outfits and accessories, when it comes winter time in norway? oh he always has to be the one dressing her in the morning, he always has to make sure she is wearing so many layers before going anywhere outside as snow still falls from the white sky and winds still blow cold! you usually just watch from the doorway with a soft smile on your face as he gets her dressed, admiring how focused he looks when making sure every button is done up and every fabric is unfolded but he will always feel your eyes on him as he works and turn around to face you with his own big smile before telling you to just keep ogling and pushing some long brown locks out of his pale face, letting out a deep chuckle when you jokingly scoff and roll your eyes before coming over to pick up your daughter who is now also letting out much higher pitched giggles at the sound of her fathers laughter

♡ when it is winter in norway, bård feels so especially protective of your toddler daughter! she is just so small and still so new to the world, he really prefers to just stay huddled up in bed with the two of you instead of taking her out anywhere in fear that she might catch a nasty cold! but of course, what even is a child if they do not want to play with snow when they see it through windows? and neither you nor bård can ever refuse your daughter when she makes grabby hands and looks up at you with big pleading eyes

୨୧ bård has to dress her in at least four layers before you guys take her out to play in the snow though! thankfully your daughter is extremely quiet and very patient so she puts up no fuss as he dresses her in multiple thick cotton jumpers, a pair of fluffy ear muffs, some soft little mittens as well as a cute knitted scarf that his mother had actually made for her and so on! he is just dressing her to the absolute max to make sure there is simply no chance of her catching a cold and falling sick, he could barely handle her pain when she was teething let alone something so preventable like a cold? he would simply never forgive himself for letting her get a cold under his watch! by the time he is done with dressing her in cold proof clothes, your daughter is starting to get ever so slightly impatient as she softly kicks her legs and he chuckles before kissing her head, gesturing towards you and asking if you are all ready too before the two of you take her outside together

“ hey, baby… you ready to go? i think skatten min is starting to get a little impatient, hm? come on then, let’s go… ” ( it takes less than a second after he says this for your daughter to quickly grab his large hand in her much smaller one, holding on tightly through her mitten as she waits for him to pick her up and take her outside with you which he does with no hesitation! your daughter loves being held by him and he loves holding her in his arms, it is quite rare that your toddler daughter actually walks anywhere )

♡ when you daughter is playing in the snow, forming little snowballs in her mitten covered hands and poking her fingers down into the previously untouched snow, bård is right there beside her whilst you film the two of them with his handheld camera, both of you laughing when your daughter attempts to hand him some snow before her big eyes widen in surprise as it quickly melts away in her hand, you coo from behind the camera as you watch him lay her down in the snow and attempts to teach her how to make a snow angel by moving her arms for her, you zoom in on them as he smiles down at her with such love shining in his eyes whilst making a tiny snowman just in front of her

୨୧ bård is a very proud father when it comes to quite literally anything your daughter does! she could hand him a stick that she found outside and he would treasure it as if it was made of pure solid gold, he would keep it in a drawer somewhere forever and absolutely never let you throw it out! he has major attachments and care for anything your daughter gives to him with it being meant as a gift for him because it just fills his heart with pure love for your daughter, it makes him feel so loved in his times of worrying that he does not make a great father because of his less than perfect circumstances in life… the cute little gifts from her mixed with so much loving from you about how all he will ever be to her is a wonderful father makes him believe that he is being the best father he possibly can be, it makes him feel loved and worthy…

♡ that is why he can just never ever find it in himself to throw away anything she ever gives to him, no matter how supposedly useless the item may be such as a common rock or twig! he will be keeping it so long as he lives on this world so do not be surprised when you randomly find it in a drawer when your daughter is no longer a toddler who picks things up off the ground to gift to her father, do not be surprised when your daughter is a growing teenager and bård comes home one day panicking about supposedly losing his so called lucky rock that she had given him when she was four years old only to later find it hidden in a hole of the pocket in his jeans! little things like that mean a whole lot to bård and they always will, he has even kept a lot of easily forgettable things related to you through the years but i will not go into that right now! he just loves you so much for giving him his little girl and giving him so much happiness in life! he loves his little girl for entering his life when he was still so young himself and changing him for the better

୨୧ when bård is finally released from prison and the two of you have another daughter together, he loves her just as much as he did your first daughter! he will always let her colour in his sleeve tattoos with markers as the two of them sit together on the comfortable couch with her small body curled into his side whilst she focuses on staying in the black ink lines the best she can! his voice is deep and burly yet so soft and caring as he mumbles down to her

“ stjernen min, you missed a spot there… there you go, smart girl! it looks so nice, hm? ” ( he will only tear his attention away from her toddler form when you and your now teenaged daughter appear from the kitchen after you had spent some time teaching her how to cook, welcoming the soft kiss you lean down and press to his lips and chuckling deeply against your lips when both of your daughters make dramatic grossed out sounds )

♡ you and bård had your first baby young, almost too young, but neither of you regretted it one bit! even now as the two of you are older with another perfect child shared between you, both of you look back on those early years with such fondness as he remembers how heavenly it felt to be a first time father and how beautiful you looked as a first time mother even if you are still very much beautiful now! he just loves being a father so much, he loves being a father to your children so much and would not trade the life he has for the whole world <3

[czolgosz]

my (hopefully comprehensive) leon czolgosz rpf compendium

full books:

the bradys and the anarchist queen; or, running down the "reds" (1902): short dime novel; has a bunch of slightly changed names so they can't get sued for libel i guess; the portrayal of anarchists as evil is so exaggerated that it's mostly just funny; more seriously, warning for earnest anti-black racism

with claw and fang: a fact story with a chicago setting (1911): a dubious response to the anarcho-egoist/proto-fascist book might is right (1896); leon czolgosz's name is nikola golzosch and he has different things going on from real life; bizarre & very christian; also warning for earnest anti-black racism

assassins (1991): the musical. we all know this one.

the anarchist (2001): the daniel a. coleman one, which is in fact the original The Anarchist; from the perspective of a psychiatrist who sort of befriends leon czolgosz in prison and is pushed left by his experiences with anarchists & his suffragist girlfriend; boring!; i have made most of a pdf of it 🫡 wait a bit

death of riley (2002): an aspiring detective investigates the murder of her employer (another detective) and meets bohemians and anarchists who are involved in the murder and the investigation alike in varying ways; leon czolgosz is canonically gay if you care; on z-library

the temple of music (2004): a wild ride, but still mostly coherent; has a bunch of different pov characters, only one of which is fictional; the writing is really not bad, and it was pretty emotionally evocative for me; probably has the most leon czolgosz scenes; speaking of which, he is in the midst of a mental breakdown for most of the book; on anna's archive

the anarchist (2009): the john smolens one; about some people trying to capture leon czolgosz and failing, and then getting involved in another anarchist domestic terrorism plot afterwards; probably has the second most leon czolgosz scenes; on z-library

a moment in the sun (2011): i haven't read this yet, as you all know; about the turn of the century in general; on z-library

the fifth assassin (2013): leon czolgosz never actually shows up, but there is some fiction narrative surrounding him; all the assassinations are connected, someone is repeating them all, and there's about to be a new fifth one; the protagonist aims to catch this assassin; on z-library

assassin of shadows (2019): some detectives uncover the conspiracy surrounding the mckinley assassination; on z-library

a gilded lady (2020): i never actually read it apart from the one very short leon czolgosz scene and don't really know what it's about; on z-library

very short things:

"interview with an assassin" (1901): a description of an interview in which leon czolgosz is a devout christian and explains his actions accordingly; written in opposition to christian proselytisation which had increased due to the assassination

"the last guest" (1901): about a woman contemplating leon czolgosz's execution; his corpse shows up but that's really it

"czolgosz heard from" (1901): excerpts from a letter leon czolgosz sent from hell

"oklahoma fish story" (1903): john wilkes booth, charles guiteau, and leon czolgosz are hanging out together in oklahoma

"the scar his ring made" (2010): short story by a high schooler about paweł czołgosz being abusive; starts on page 85

"very short dorian gray x leon czolgosz fic" (2022): need i say more

"reason" (2024): genderbent, one-sided leon (leona) czolgosz x emma (emmett) goldman

tv show episodes (which i haven't seen):

reaper s1 ep6 "leon" (2007): leon czolgosz escapes hell and some people are trying to make him go back; apparently the least accurate portrayal ever (it does not sound like they were trying anyway)

murdoch mysteries s7 ep15 "the spy who came up to the cold" (2014): the opening scene is the mckinley assassination; about a possible conspiracy around the assassination

[totally-sapphic-posts]

hi, so i might have my first date with a girl on monday, and i might be *slightly* panicking!! for context, i’ve known i’m queer for a while, but im still struggling with a lot of stuff (thank you to internalized homophobia), but im working on it. and i think i want this to work, but i have no experience at all, like in general. and im really stressed about how it’s going to go, im scared i might be too platonic, or just too in my head in general since i tend to be like that anyways. and yeah. im worried it’s all gonna turn sour for some reason

First date’s exciting!

I can give some tips on not being too platonic.

• when you give compliments, your wording is important. Example: ‘omg you’re so pretty!’=platonic, ‘you look really beautiful’= more romantic

• if you feel comfortable at any point in the date and you guys are walking, offer her your hand. You don’t have to straight up ask, ‘do you want to hold hands’. I know I personally don’t like asking out loud, so I just offer my hand and it’s up to them if they want to hold or not. If she doesn’t take your hand, don’t worry, she might just not be there yet, but it’s not the end of the world. Shrug it off and move on with the conversation, she’ll feel more comfortable. It’ll help if you keep the convo light here.

• if you guys have been talking for a while, maybe consider buying something small/making something small (simple bracelet or something) and on the date, say something along the lines of, ‘this would look pretty on you’ and put it on her. Or you can say you made/bought it for her. But iwl, I like ‘forgetting’ to ask for it back at the end of the date 😂 then telling her she can keep it because it looks pretty on her.

• try to do things on the date that will let you talk more (not movies). This is a personal preference, but can help with getting to know each other and not awkwardly glancing at each other in the cinema.

I could go on and on with more specific things, but I think the best thing to do is just be honest with each other while you’re getting to know one another, and slowly navigate more intense topics (probably best for later dates 🤞).

Just go with the flow as much as possible and maybe be transparent about your feelings with her. Tell her you’re nervous for the date, but really excited for it as well. Who knows, maybe she feels the same and can be an icebreaker for the two of you.

On your internalized homophobia, I’ve been there, and I really hope for the best for you. I actually used this blog in the beginning to help with my internalized homophobia, and used the space as a validation for the attraction I had for women and to let myself know that it was alright.

I hope this was helpful, my thoughts have been a bit all over the place lately, so hopefully this came out somewhat coherent 😂❤️ all the best to you, anon

[fulfillingbineeds]

completely understand what you mean about the not being able to promise anything! but if you’d ever want to write about about Rudy’s powers and the relationship between the two Rudy’s, or mayhaps Rudy and Nathan actually meeting each other? I do think both of those are fun underexplored topics I’d love to see you handle. Looking forward to seeing any fics you publish in the future, I love your work and hope your burnout gets better 👍

I need to rewatch the Rudy seasons first before starting to write anything about him. (<evil excuse so I get to watch misfits for the bajillion time)

I do have a planned Nathan/Simon fic series that might come out in October (that I cannot post on Tumblr, wink, wink), and one of them includes a Rudy cameo.

I'm one of the firm believers that Nathan and Rudy would HATE each other, more from the former than the latter. Nathan wouldn't vibe with Rudy at first, and he is, of course, a dick to him. Rudy, at first, is friendly and cordial, but as Nathan acts like Nathan, the one-side beef becomes two-sided.  

I think it'd be funny to see the dynamic between them while they squabble and act petty to each other, but they also get along, but when they realize that they are getting along, they go back to hating each other.

In one of the tweets from the old official Nathan account, he mentioned that he wouldn't get along with a clone of himself ("If I could clone people I wouldnt clone myself. We wouldn't get on.") and we see in the show with the whole Alisha and Nathan parallels that they don't really like each other—more from Alisha than Nathan. They're too similar, especially in things they don't like about themselves. But we do see they can get along (2x5 I love youuu. We needed more Alisha and Nathan team-ups.), especially when it came to making fun of others.

So, my thoughts about Nathan's and Rudy's dynamic are based on that thought process. Rudy was brought in as Nathan's replacement, which is why a lot of people can't get with Rudy because he was a 'poor' replacement. But people don't see that; sure, Rudy is in the same position of comic relief as Nathan was, and they have similar hobbies, family issues, and personality traits, but they are very different characters. You can tell by just their humour: Nathan is more attacking others, singling out their insecurities and using it to his advantage. He finds it funny when he can rise out of someone. Rudy, on the other hand, is more of the opposite. They still share the odd and bizarre (more from Rudy), quick-witted (more from Nathan), and clever references to pop culture.  

Nathan would see certain things in Rudy that he's self-conscious about himself and be bitter about it. Especially when it comes to Rudy's power, I think he'd feel insecure that Rudy can get along well with these emotion-ish centred clones of himself, while if Nathan was in his position, he'd want to run away, as that's what he tends to do when it comes confronting his complicated feelings. (substance abuse, hurting them first before they hurt me, etc.)

But we also see that Rudy struggles with it too (probably the whole reason he got his power in the first place!)

Anyways- I'm not really sure I can be coherent with my jumbled thoughts, lol. But it really is an interesting idea to analyze. Rudy is a super complex character, and well, very entertaining to watch, lol.

Hopefully, I'll get some new work done and up soon (thanks for the compliments ;D). Especially keep an eye out for the misfits zine coming out in November ;)

[mysteroads]

Okay, nerds! With all the MHA 426 spoilers floating around, I humbly offer you this to hopefully help soothe the ache. Still on the bittersweet side, but more sweet than bitter, and Mon-chan and Shiggy are there! And it's one in a series.

What? Did you think dying would stop the League from shenanigans? Never. 😉Here's the link to AO3, and the fic itself is below.

It's All About the People You're With

Much to his displeasure, Dabi wakes up after his final confrontation with his family. However, he finds that his family aren't the only ones waiting for him. Shigaraki is there to offer him a choice, and he brought his dog Monchan with him!

For the first time in his life, Dabi was cold. He was cold and everything else was dark and velvet soft silence. 

Fuckin’ bliss.

So naturally, he was pretty damned irritated when the curtains of darkness began to pull back, letting in the far more familiar and very unwelcome sensation of pain.

Oh fuck, he hurt. 

Not everywhere. A lot of his body felt numb, but not the floaty numbness of really good painkillers. No, this was the numbness that said, ‘hope you waved bye-bye to your nerve endings, you deep fried dumbass!’

Well, good riddance, pity he couldn't get rid of all of them. 

Dabi tried to move, to shift his body to a new position—as if that could possibly make it hurt less— but couldn’t. If he believed in a god he would curse them right now. Was he still on fire? Fuck it hurts! It hurts. It hurts so damn much! He couldn't swallow down the groan that crawled its way up his throat and dribbled out between his teeth. 

That groan apparently flipped a previously unknown switch, because as soon as the miserable little noise escaped, a wave of sound struck him and sent him reeling. 

Going from a blanket of silence to freaking bedlam knocked loose whatever tenuous grip he had on coherent thought, and he flailed around in a panic. What the hell was going on? What had happened? What was happening right now? Where was he?

When Dabi got himself back together, he at least had a new and different pain to focus on whenever he wanted a distraction from the burns! A migraine! What a fan-fucking-tastic bonus! More important: he could hear voices. Actual voices. Not just the one in his head that made smartass comments. The voices made him curious enough to pay better attention. He couldn't make sense of them—everything was weirdly muffled and distant— then one loud, all-too-familiar voice broke through the general hubbub and scratched nails down the chalkboard of his soul.

"You said there was no hope!”

“Mr. Todoroki, we discussed this possibility. Occasionally, a patient will continue to breathe on their own for some time after being taken off the ventilator. They may even make sounds. That does not change the inevitable outcome. I know this was a difficult choice, but—”

Dabi lost track of what the whiney voice was saying. He didn't care anyway. Fury overtook his confusion and irritation, fresh pain flaring across his body as his quirk tried to activate. For fuck’s sake! He hadn’t managed to take out his piece of shit father? After all that had happened?! What was the damned point then?! All his planning and suffering, all the bodies—including his own!— sacrificed, the League broken up… was it all for nothing?! He wanted to scream and weep and beat his fists against the floor like a child throwing a tantrum. It wasn't fair! It wasn't fair that he'd lost everything, only for that motherfucker to survive!

Heh … motherfucker. Literally. 

The thought came from so far out of right field it left him stunned for a second, then his body jerked as he tried to laugh. Oh, now that was a whole new world of misery, and the motion clearly set off a fresh clamor with a frantic edge to it, but he didn't mind this time. Yeah, calling his father a motherfucker was stupid, but sometimes you needed a stupid joke the way you needed junk food. Right now, a laugh was just the thing he needed to pull himself that little bit farther into real consciousness. 

Dabi couldn't laugh, but he could open his eyes. 

Hey, I still have eyelids. Neat. 

Felt like they were attached to weights though, and once he got them open, everything was a haze of colors and vague shapes. Well, he couldn't really complain, since he’d kind of thought, what with all the fire and ice getting tossed around, that the water in his eyes would be frozen solid or boiled away. Blurry vision was better than raisins for eyeballs.

“He opened his eyes!” 

The shriek, while sounding like it came through a layer of cotton, made him wince away. The blurs around him burst into disorienting motion and the noise swelled into a cacophony, forcing him to shut his eyes again as he fought back another moan of pain. Fuck, why couldn't his ears have been scorched off? Wasn’t it bad enough his insides still burned and ached, but then these jerks had to make it worse with their gabble? 

He tried to shout them down, tell them to shut up and get out! He was a fucking A-ranked villain, dammit! Have some fucking respect! 

All that came out was a hissing sound. 

His throat and mouth felt more like sandpaper than flesh, and there was something wrong, more wrong than usual, with his face.

"He’s trying to talk!” 

“Oh my god– Toya! Toya! Can you hear us?”

“Nii-san!”

Shit, did they have to sound so excited? Something wet and cool was pressed against his mouth, and he couldn't help his relieved whimper as it rehydrated the strip of jerky currently serving as his tongue (eyelids, ears, and tongue had all survived? Holy shit!), and damped the fire in his throat. It took him two more tries, but he finally managed to whisper, “Shut… up. Fuckin’... noisy.” 

He didn’t recognize his own voice. Every word crackled like radio static and was horribly slurred, almost to the point of incomprehension. Shit. My lips. I guess those did burn away after all. Three out of four’s not bad though.

It didn’t seem to matter to the people around him. They laughed and sobbed, and he felt hands on him, even through the pain and numb areas. Cold hands, which felt nice against charred skin, and a large hand that burned almost as hot as fire kept running across his head over and over. Dabi wanted to knock them all away, but he was exhausted. Whatever rush of energy had brought him back here was running out, and he was so tired.

Tired down to his blackened bones.

Opening his eyes again, he tried to look around. Still blurry. Lots of white though, so, hospital? Why was he here? Why were they wasting time and medicine on a wreck of a villain? They sure were kicking up a lot of fuss about something. He could see people-shaped blurs wearing white running around like there was some kind of emergency. He wished he could roll his eyes, but that was too difficult. Idiots.

In a world of motion, the eye is naturally drawn to stillness, and so his gaze fell on the figure in the open doorway.

“Dog.” The word was startled out of him.

“What?”

“Did he say dog?”

“Toya, baby, what did you say?”  

Cold fingers touched his cheek, and he answered without thinking, “There's... a dog...”

A rush of confused whispers around him, as if they couldn’t see the freaking dog right in front of them. It was the damndest thing though: The rest of the room and the occupants were nothing but splotches of colors to him, but the dog was perfectly clear, practically haloed in high definition. Some type of medium sized brown dog, a shiba inu or corgi maybe. It sat as if waiting for something, and even from across the room he could tell its eyes were a warm, melting brown. He wondered idly if its fur was as soft as it looked.

“Her name’s Mon.” The new voice cut easily through the babble, and was familiar to Dabi as his own quirk. He felt the muscles in his face pull as they tried to form into a smirk.

“Tomura… Shigaraki… You crusty bitch.”

“Shigaraki? Did he say Shigaraki?”

“I heard crusty bitch.”

“What?!” 

His insult was answered by a low chuckle. “I don’t want to hear that from the guy who looks like a hotdog that fell into the campfire.” 

His former boss stepped into view and Dabi had to take a moment. Shigaraki looked… normal. Last time Dabi had seen the man, he’d been somewhere between a ‘roided up megavillain and a goddamn eldritch abomination. Now he was back to what he called his “rogue build,” all slender limbs and lean muscle, made for speed and close quarters combat. His mop of white hair was cut above his shoulders, and there was no corpse hand hiding his face. Garnet colored eyes were almost fond as they ran over Dabi’s bandaged form. “You look like shit.”

“Fuck you…” Dabi mumbled, ignoring the sudden flutter of happiness(?) he got from the familiar exchange of insults. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed the easy banter of the League. “What… What are you… doing here… Shig?”

“Oh, you must be feeling all soft and mushy to use a nice nickname,” Shigaraki teased, tucking his hands into the pockets of his long black coat and stalking forward. The (theoretical) doctors bustling around seemed to avoid him without effort, but none reacted to the villain or the dog that trotted happily alongside him.

“Go die, ugly,” Dabi repeated, or tried to. It was hard to get enough air to talk. He ignored the urgent voices and insistent touches trying to get his attention, and focused on his boss’s face.

“I already did, you dick.” 

Dabi sneered, even as his stomach dropped. Shigaraki had lost? It seemed impossible, and yet… “Look good… for a dead man.”

“I look better than you do for sure, bacon boy.” 

It really wasn’t fair how true that was. Dammit, he honestly couldn’t call Shigaraki crusty anymore! The scars on his eye and lip were still there, but the lines around his eyes and the splits in his lips seemed less like flakey, dried skin and more like weathered, cracked stone. His neck wasn’t all scratched and scarred up either. The brat looked healthy. It was disgusting. Dabi tried to flip him off, but couldn’t lift his arm. He couldn’t even make his fingers move, so he settled for, “Still prettier… than you…”

Chuckling, Shigaraki stopped next to Dabi’s bed and gave him a small smile. He’d never seen such a calm smile on Tomura Shigaraki’s face. It made his chest hurt for some reason. “Keep telling yourself that, you emo bastard. To answer your first question, Dabi, I’m here because I’m the leader, and you’re one of my League.”

Dabi scoffed. “Didn’t you hear… what I told the… damn pigeon? Don’t care… about the League. Never did.” 

“Oh, I did hear about that,” Shigaraki said, and his tone made Dabi stiffen and his eyes widen. Oh Shit. Something started frantically beeping, probably his heart monitor. He'd forgotten that Shigaraki could be a scary son of a bitch when he wanted to be.

“Toya? Son, what’s wrong?”

“What’s happening to him?!”

“And I expect you’ll get an earful from Toga and Jin, but that doesn’t matter in the end.” Shigaraki softened, voice turning from wrathful to patient, which was annoying coming from a spoiled brat like him. “I never asked you to give up your own goals when you joined the League. In fact, I recall saying specifically that my comrades could do as they pleased. But, Dabi, for someone who didn’t care, you sure stuck around for a long time.” He smirked and Dabi wanted to punch his stupid, uncrusty face. “You could’ve left after All For One was captured. Hell knows that I was a mess and the League was barely holding together. No way you could’ve known that we could help further your goals. There was no reason for you to stay.”

Not exactly true. He’d only stuck around out of a sense of obligation, because he’d found out that Shigaraki had emptied his personal bank accounts on equipment and supplies for his League, as well as on bribes and informants… and had spent a large chunk of that money on a reputable healer for Dabi’s head injury and to redo his staples before they got infected. He could’ve been permanently crippled, or even killed, if it hadn’t been for Shigaraki. There was a debt owed, and even the underworld had rules. You paid back your debts. Dabi wanted to explain, but his throat hurt too much to go into it all.

He got the feeling that Shigaraki guessed what he was thinking though, because the other man continued, “You helped us avenge Magne.”

Maybe small words? He’d managed those before. Talking was painful, but Dabi was used to pain, and he couldn’t just let Shigaraki ramble on like this without replying. The little shit would get cocky and start thinking he was right!

“Magne… was nice…” Too fucking nice. She flirted with him and it was really damned irritating (and embarrassing), but Magne had been kind. She really lived up to her title of ‘Big Sis.’ She made everyone feel wanted and welcome, and that complete acceptance had fed a hungry part of him he thought had starved to death years ago. “Overhaul… deserved… it.”

“Mhm. You helped us with the MLA and Deika City, became one of my generals.”

“Geten’s… a bigger bitch… than you. Easy. And general… is a cushy job.”

Shigaraki reached down to rub Mon’s ears. He used all five fingers, and she sighed in appreciation, leaning into his touch. His eyes never left Dabi’s face, though. “You cried for Twice.”

He couldn’t deny it. Tried to anyway. “Not… for him.” Everything he’d said to Hawks was true. Twice would’ve tipped the scales in the League’s favor, in Dabi’s favor. His dream would’ve come true with Twice’s help. So he’d wept blood for that lost dream… and for a lost friend. For someone who had loved and trusted with a completely open heart, stabbed in the back while trying to save his friends. It still hurt, dammit! And Shigaraki, that fucker, kept right on talking, twisting the knife.

“When the war broke out, you came when Gigantomachia was sent to fetch you because you knew that I’d woken up early. You knew that I was surrounded by heroes, and that the operation wasn’t complete.”

“Opportunity,” Dabi muttered hopelessly. It had been the perfect opportunity to confront his father.

“Two birds with one stone, Dabi. You still distracted the heroes enough to give the rest of us a chance. You saved me, even if it was indirectly or by accident," Shigaraki insisted. “ And you stuck around after that debacle too. There was nothing there for you, really. You did leave for awhile, but you came back to check on me and Spinner. For someone who didn’t care, whose goal lay elsewhere, you sure seemed concerned.”

“Nowhere… else… to go.” Why did he keep nagging?

“You found Toga and torched her old house, told her to smile, encouraged her to keep going, and gave her some of Twice’s blood.”

Dabi didn’t have anything to say to that. Shigaraki patted Dabi’s leg and it felt more solid than the hands shaking him, the same way Shigaraki’s voice was close and the others’ distant as they called his name. "I'm fine," he mumbled to the voices, his head falling to one side. Jeez. Would he ever get some peace?

“Dabi,” his name brought his wandering focus back to Shigaraki, “We already know you’re an asshole. You don’t have to try and talk me out of bringing you back.” He leaned closer and met Dabi’s eyes, bloody red to clouded crystal. “I see you, Dabi. We see you, Dabi. We’ve always seen you. We want you anyway. Magne, Jin, Toga, Spinner, Kurogiri… they’re all waiting for you.”

Those words hit him like a punch to the gut, wringing out a soft sound of pure longing that he didn’t know he was capable of making. 

Arms— hot and cold, slim and thick, both of them ghostly— wrapped around him. He suspected them of trying to comfort him, but he didn’t need comfort. Shigaraki wanted him. The League wanted him. They didn’t care that he wasn’t perfect, that he had been born to be a failure, that he was a broken, twisted caricature of a human being. Knowing he was wanted despite all that… it healed a wound in his soul that had been bleeding as long as he could remember, and suddenly it didn’t matter that Endeavor was still alive.

The League wanted him. They were waiting for him.

And he was tired. 

So very, very tired.

Even so, he mustered up the strength for one last bit of snark. “So… you… expect me to… just, what? … Waltz into Hell… with you?”

Shigaraki raised his eyebrows. “You could stay, if you'd rather.” His eyes flicked to the blurry people around Dabi, lingering on the ones who seemed to be embracing him. “Your family would prefer that, I think. They seem really upset. It’s your choice, though. It’s always been your choice, Dabi. We'll still be waiting if you want to stay for a little while longer.”

Dabi considered for less than a second. “Let’s go, Duster.” He’d been toying with that nickname for months, now seemed like the perfect time to use it. Judging by the pleased light in Tomura’s eyes, he was right.

Grinning, Tomura held out his hand.

Dabi felt something shift inside him, the pain and numbness retreating, replaced by a kind of pleasant, tingling feeling. But when he tried to reach out for Tomura’s hand, he could barely raise his arm an inch off the blanket. He tried again, and still couldn’t. Sudden frustration and anguish made his already dry eyes sting.

“I can’t reach you! Tomura! Fuck!” Why couldn’t he do this? Just this one, last, final thing?! Why was it so hard to reach the things he wanted the most? “I… I c-can’t…”

Then his arm was being lifted, supported gently by someone else. 

Surprised, he looked in the direction of the red and white blur that held his damaged arm so tenderly. The blur wavered and came into sudden, sharp focus. It was Shoto. Shoto, his youngest brother, his father’s perfect masterpiece, the kid he barely knew but had tried his best to kill… and Shoto was crying. Crying so hard he had snot coming out his nose and his pretty porcelain skin was all blotchy. The sight made Dabi chuckle, even as it reminded him of Toga’s sad eyes. 

“Hey, little hero, don’t cry,” he said, and found that speaking didn’t hurt. He sounded like his old self too, the words clear and firm. Still raspy, but that was just the way he talked. “`S like I told Himiko. It doesn't matter whether we laugh or cry, the sun’ll still rise tomorrow... so you should choose to smile, baby brother.” Shoto’s lips wobbled as he tried to obey. Dabi smiled back and thought it probably looked like a nightmare, but for once, he felt genuinely happy and didn’t hold himself back. “That’s better.” 

Dabi was distracted from any reply his brother might’ve made as a cool, dry hand wrapped around his, and pulled him to his feet.

His boots hit the hospital floor with a satisfying thump. Dabi stretched, reveling in the absence of constant pain and exhaustion. He felt amazing. Like he could run a mile in a split second or fight a tiger quirkless if he wanted to! A quick survey showed that he was wearing his old villain coat, a clean white t-shirt that actually fit, and leather pants that felt soft as butter. And he had his right arm back!

Tomura reached up and playfully flicked a finger against the staples on his cheek. “Still stapled together, even after all that?”

“`Cause I’m not Toya,” he explained, snapping his fingers to cause a spark and delighting in the painless blue flame. Finally, finally, his quirk was truly his and the blue glow had never been more beautiful. Reluctantly, he let the flame die and faced his boss again. “Not Toya any more than you are Tenko. Toya's a part of me, but this is… me. This is who I chose. I’m Dabi. Dabi has staples and scars and a fuck ton of piercings.” It was true, and it felt so good to be comfortable in his own skin.

Tomura nodded, smiling. “Black hair suits you better anyway. Freaking emo.” 

“So speaks the dead man wearing a long black coat, with a black shirt, black pants, and red fucking sneakers,” he taunted. “Who’s the real emo, huh?”

“Shut up. I bet I can still dust you like this, matchstick.”

“Bring it on, mophead.” 

They were grinning at each other and Mon frolicked around them both, overjoyed. Dabi reached down and gave her head a pat, finding that she was just as soft as she looked. “Where to now?” he asked Tomura. In answer, Tomura went to a door Dabi hadn’t noticed before and opened it. He smiled over his shoulder, then stepped though, vanishing from sight. Dabi followed eagerly, but paused at the threshold and, despite himself, looked back.

There they were, no longer hazy or muffled, though they were somehow still far away: 

Enji, Rei, Fumiyu, Natsu, Shoto… his whole family, all of them clustered around a sad, empty vessel, holding it tight and crying like the world was ending. Strangely, seeing his own broken body was less distressing than watching his mother press teary kisses to its bandaged face.

Mon licked his hand and looked up at him with those big, melting eyes. She whined a little and he smiled at her. No wonder Tomura had her with him. She was a very good girl. “I’m okay, Monchan. Just wish they… that they knew,” knew that he wasn’t hurting anymore, that he was going to be with friends, that he was ready to leave all the old aches and sorrows behind, “But I guess they’ll figure it out eventually, huh? Maybe I can tell them myself one of these days.” Not today though. 

Dabi turned away from his family for the last time and stepped through the door.

As soon as he was through, he knew where he was. Their first villain hideout, the bar where they’d both lived and worked out of for months. So familiar, but changed. The wood floorboards beneath his feet still creaked and he could smell alcohol and something baking, but there were no booths or tables. Instead, right along with the bar and the stools, there was a comfortable looking couch and two armchairs, a coffee table, and a tv. That was all he got a look at before two bodies hit him and took him down.

“Dabi! It’s about time!”

“We missed you so much!”

Trying to breathe, he looked down at the two people trying to crush his ribs. Toga and Jin, of course, who else? Both of them with big anime tears streaming down their faces. “Can’t breathe!” he gasped, attempting to wiggle free. They loosened their hold enough for him to suck in some air, but didn’t let him get up. They looked different, of course, but like it had been for him, it was as if someone had peeled away their outer layers to show the real person beneath. 

Jin wore his villain costume, because he had been happiest being a member of the League, but he had no mask and there was no scar on his face. When he smiled, it was the same wide, happy thing it had always been. Toga had abandoned her school uniform, and was instead in something pink and silky, with bits that were black and sparkly, her hair left loose down her back. 

He ran his fingers through that mass of blonde waves. The changes suited her. “Hi, princess. You look cute.” She beamed at him, showing her fangs, longer and bigger than in life. He was struck by a wave of affection. Cute little vampire bat. Then he looked at Jin, not Twice anymore, and his heart clenched. He remembered a red feather and a burst of blood. “Jin… I’m sorry—”

Jin cut him off by giving him an extra hard squeeze. “Don’t be! I’m sad I couldn’t be with you guys longer, but I am so happy for the time I had. I’m the luckiest guy in the world to have you all with me still!”

After more hugs and tears, they finally got off him, though Mon took the opportunity to give him a doggy kiss before he could scramble to his feet. “Gross,” he muttered, wiping at his face.

“Probably the cleanest your face has been in ages, patchwork,” teased a voice. 

“Can it, gecko,” he told Spinner, and flipped him off. The lizard heteromorph grinned at him from his spot on the couch, and returned the gesture in good humor before scooting over to make room for Tomura and Mon. Spinner hadn’t changed much, just a few details here and there, mostly in the lack of Stain iconography. Dabi had wondered if he’d find Spinner looking human, and was glad the man finally felt happy with his looks. 

“Hey there, big guy, no greeting for me?” 

This time, he did a double take at the woman sitting on the floor among a pile of pillows, which made everyone else snicker at him. “Magne?” he asked, a little unsure. She laughed, and the laugh he did recognize. “Holy shit, Magne, you look…”

“Fantastic! I know, darling.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder and gave him a lecherous wink. “Why don’t you come give Big Sis a little kissy kiss?”

“Uh, hard pass,” he said, edging his way around her. Jin and Toga jeered at him, plopping down on pillows he was sure hadn’t been there a second ago, and Toga holding up a manicure kit that was definitely pulled out of nowhere. Dabi didn’t question it though. The three of them were happy, doing each other's nails and chatting, so where the kit came from didn’t matter. 

He made it to the bar unmolested and unmanicured, and squinted at the stranger there as he took a seat on his accustomed stool. The man behind the bar was youngish, dressed in a blue martial arts Gi and a brown bomber jacket, a bandage across the bridge of his nose. His hair was insane, like someone had stuck a cloud of cotton candy to his head or something. “The fuck are you?”

“I’m Oboro Shirakumo!” the man chirped, sounding waaaaay too perky for a stranger in what was supposed to be a villain hideout. Dabi eyed him and wondered if he could actually use his fire here and roast this cotton candy loser. Shirakumo seemed to sense his homicidal intentions and quickly added, “Kurogiri! I was Kurogiri for awhile! You might remember me?" He motioned toward his wild blue hair. "Still with the cloud theme, but more purple and black and swirly?”

Dabi’s confusion vanished. He had heard something about Kurogiri being a nomu, but hadn’t paid it too much attention, laser focused as always on killing Endeavor. “Weren’t you a hero student when you died?” he demanded. “What are you doing here?”

“I was also Tomura’s caretaker and protector!” Shirakumo reminded him, and shot Tomura a fond smile. Tomura returned the smile almost shyly. “He's my boy, and dying didn't change that. Anyway, I’m waiting for my own friends to make it to this side, so I figured I might as well make myself useful and keep an eye on you miscreants.” He smiled a big, sunshine smile, and Dabi let out a huff. Figures even here they couldn’t shake off the heroes. Whatever. Shirakumo or Kurogiri or whoever he was… he was half-villain and that would do for now. 

“So,” he asked, leaning his elbows on the counter and asking the really important question, “can you mix a drink as good as Kurogiri could?”

“I sure can. You want your usual?”

Dabi blinked at him. “You remember?”

Shirakumo’s smile softened. “I do.”

“Then yes, please. I just died. I think I deserve a drink.”

Laughing, Shirakumo agreed and turned to do just that. While he waited, Dabi entertained himself by watching the game Tomura and Spinner were playing. Eventually, though, he had to ask, “Where’s Mr. Compress? He’s the only one missing, right?”

“Mhm,” Tomura hummed, concentrating hard as Spinner cursed him for killing his character.

“Mister Showman’s gotta make a grand entrance!” Magne cooed, then giggled. “Who would’ve thought he’d be the last one?”

“Me,” Dabi said dryly. “He was always better at hiding than fighting.” He accepted his drink from Shirakumo with a nod. “What happens when he comes? Anyone know?”

Tomura paused the game and turned so he could see the room, running his eyes over each of them. “Whatever it is, we’ll decide together. Whether that’s us storming Hell or crashing Heaven, or even haunting Disneyworld for shits and giggles… we’ll stay together this time.”

“And we get to decide that?” Dabi pressed. He had been sure that, if there was an afterlife, he’d be giving the Devil the finger on his way down to the pits. Being allowed to have his friends seemed a little too good to be true.

“What comes next isn’t one-size-fits-all, you know,” Jin said unexpectedly, sounding very sure of himself. “There’s no checklist of good or bad, no racking up points either way. We’re not good people, we’re villains, but we’re not all bad either. Not all the choices were ours to make. And yes, we’ll be together, because we’re a family and Love is too strong a tie to break easily, and not a tie whoever is running this operation wants to break. Love is the whole point of living, you know? Why would it be taken from us when we worked so hard and lost so much? For most of us, the League is our one good thing. We can keep our one good thing.”

“That was so beautiful, Jin,” Toga said, her golden eyes shining.

“Thanks! I have no idea where all that came from!”

Everyone took a minute to absorb that little speech, and Dabi found himself relaxing back against the counter. His gut told him that Jin was right; that whatever came next, they’d be together, and that was all he cared about. He’d spent almost his whole life alone except for his obsession, and he’d resisted opening himself up to his friends like he should have. He wouldn’t make that mistake again. This time, he'd hold onto his League with both hands and burn whoever tried to take them away, be they God, Devil, or in-between.

Contentment washed over him at the decision, an emotion echoed on the faces of the League. It seemed they were all in agreement then. When Sako finally arrived, they'd be right back in step with each other, no matter where their path went. (Personally, when the time came to choose a path, he’d vote for storming Hell. That sounded like a party he could get behind.)

Sipping his drink, his elbow hit something on the bar top. It was a book, some young adult novel he vaguely remembered enjoying. 

He’d never gotten to finish it. 

Opening to the first pages, he took another sip and started reading. Behind the bar, Shirakumo smiled and cleaned the glass tumblers. On the floor, Magne, Jin, and Toga giggled and gossiped. Spinner and Tomura laughed and cursed, Mon yapping whenever Tomura got really excited, the music from the game a pleasant background. All that was missing was Compress’s soft humming as he practiced his slight of hand in the ratty armchair. Dabi realized just then that he was actually happy, and silently reveled in the sensation.

In death, same as life, it's all about the people you're with.

Reblog if you enjoyed! Thanks for reading!

[vibratingskull]

Dance Lesson

Part1, 2

Thrawxf!reader

Between dancing, stealing uniforms and your heart, your head gets fuzzy.

“I was caught up tutoring Shah-tezh on basic theory. I didn't have time to find a date for the Gala!."

"Fair enough. Hopefully it was worth it." Karyn replies.

You shrug your shoulders, you don't care at the moment, you are too busy laying on the grass enjoying the sun. With your limbs spread like a starfish you let the pleasant warmth spread on your skin while a soft wind keeps blowing a lock of hair through your face. You don't mind, at this instant you were really at peace.

"Do you have anyone in mind? Cosblo maybe?" She grins at you.

You burst out laughing together, hugging your ribs. You try your best to speak coherently.

"I can see his face! He would be so disgusted!"

Karyn joins you laying on the grass, her body shaked by her laughter. You both stay like that, under the sun's rays, calming down slowly and enjoying the simple company.

"So, do you have someone in mind or not?" She asks quietly after a moment of silence.

"No, I didn’t actually think that much about it. I’ll just pop up at the Gala alone and run off with their best bottles, what do you think?"

"Sounds good, but if Deenlark caught you, you would be in big trouble!"

"Blast Deenlark! I will have already graduated by then anyway, he won't be able to do much."

You let a moment pass, appreciating the song of a bird near you. It is a gentle melody but one of its last. Birds don't live long on Coruscant. They are constantly imported to the city planet to please the wealthy, but can’t survive in the urban environment.

"And you?" You ask.

"Hey, I still have two years before this Ball, don't pressure me with that now!" She responds playfully.

"Come on. Don't you have any targets? Nobody you wish you could ask in secret?"

She looks at you from the corner of her eyes before capitulating.

"Alright, alright. I am thinking about asking Tiabri's out."

You search in your memory Tiabri's face, you are not the best when it comes to remembering people.

"Tiabri, Tiabri, Tiabri… Long curly black hair and green eyes? The one with a silvery tattoo?"

"Yes, that's her." She answers lazily, getting more and more sleepy under the sun. It doesn't stop you from harassing her with questions.

"When will you ask? How?"

"First off, I can hear your smile with my eyes closed, stop it. And second, I don't know. I’ll see when the moment comes."

"Okay, but don't take too long. You can’t be the only one with your eyes on her"

"Says the one without a date?"

You nudge her.

"Oh shut up, you."

"Hey, J.C! Karyn!"

Shielding your eyes with your hand, you turn toward the voice and see Eli meeting you with a smile, making the grass crack under his feet.

"What are you both doing here?"

"Enjoying the sun, come sit."

Eli lets himself down to the ground beside you and sighs with contentment.

"Why have you never told me about this spot? It must be the greatest thing in this Academy."

"Because we didn’t want you here, but now that you've found it we’re screwed." You playfully whisper.

"(Y/n), language." Karyn berates you.

"Now we are exposed?"

"Better. Where is the other guy? Thram?”

“Thra-wn.” Eli corrects. ”He’s talking with Deenlark”

“He’s talking or he’s talking?”

“He’s arguing with Deenlark.”

“Oh for Maker’s sake…”

“Where did you come from?" Ask Karyn.

"I just came back from the race track, the team accepted me as a substitute after my essays."

"See? I told you they would say yes,Jakeeb is a fair guy, he wouldn’t say no to someone who wanted to join the team.”

“In fact I will mostly help as a technician but he said I could participate in the Senior Race at the end of the year.”

It’s the final race of the season and the one concluding the curriculum of the seniors students just before the final exam of simulation.

“And the ball to finish the year.” you added.

“The what?”

“The ball!” you respond in unison.

He opens his eyes and turns towards you with an incredulous expression.

“Beg you pardon?”

__________________________________

“One, two, three... One, two, three... One, tw- Wrong foot!” You drop Thrawn’s hand and cut the music “Let’s take a break.”

You go over your towel and rub the sweat off your face while the chiss with a frustrated expression go to his bottle, next to him Eli lays against the wall with a defeated look on his face. Clearly neither him nor Thrawn are pleased to be here.

“Eli, you’re next.”

“Okay, but can you tell us again why we have to sweat?”

“The Gala is in less than three months.”

“Isn’t it just a stupid dance?”

“I wish it was. It would be easier, but I’m not working your butt off for just some dance.” You take your bottle and go sit with them. “It’s the Academy Ball, it’s trickier than that.”

“We would show more enthusiasm if we knew what it entails,” argues Thrawn.

You take a sip looking at them, wondering how to put it simply. You’re not informed about everything either.

“To be brief, did you notice how many of the students are from the elite? It’s the new way the Gotha have to introduce its childs to the high Society.”

“Didn’t the Empire wipe them off to instate a new social order?” Thawn wonders, surprised.

“Well it did, but some old, old families of the Republic worked with the Chancelier Palpatine to keep their privileges when he would be emperor. Now the upstarts and the new bourgeoisie had joined them and adopted the old ways of the former Nobility. So they use the ball as a means to introduce their prized children as adults to the Society.”

“And put them in contact with the rest of the political and military scene, I see,” completes Thrawn.

“Of course, as aliens and outer-rim dwellers we don’t have to live up to those high expectations but we still need to honor and not embarrass the military corps in front of the wealthy. So you really need to catch up with those dance moves!”

“Why isn't there any rehearsal with the class?” Eli grumbles.

“We had them at the start of the year, with the taking of measurements of uniforms”

“There is specific uniforms?”

“Of course, they don’t want to present their future new officers with some cheap tuxedos. They’re unique costumes. All the students that could afford it got one. I would have gotten one for myself if Karyn hadn’t already promised me to lend me a dress from her family.”

“Your friendship is strong,” notes Thrawn.

“I stood up for her in front of a stubborn professor when she arrived two years ago.”

“I see, so she bears a sentiment of gratitude towards you since then.”

“Don’t know, she had plenty of occasions to repay me. We just connect well.”

“And what about the students that cannot afford a tailored costume?”

You put your hands behind you and roll your head to ease the muscles of your back.

“Not everyone takes them back so we take old ones that we touch-up, you should ask for one at the stewardship.”

“No.” Thrawn responds, holding his chin. “This will not be an option.”

“Why not?” Eli queries doubtfully.

“I am afraid this opportunity closed itself with my last argument with Deenlark not long ago. He swore he would try his best to get in my way to the navy command chain.”

Eli looks at him mortified, Thrawn has no equal when it comes to running into problems but it seems he surpassed himself this time.

“What did you do?” You ask.

“I merely pointed out alternative and more effective methods of education.”

“Did you?”

Sometimes you wonder if Deenlark wouldn't outright refuse Thrawn to graduate to make him pay for his insolence. He often flirts with the line.

“I bet none of you have the money for a private tailor, so that leaves you with…”

“Robbing one.” Thrawn completes.

You choke on your water.

“Hey, calm down! Isn’t there a solution less… radical?” Eli intervenes.

“You could borrow them,” you propose.

“Unfortunately, we are not popular enough students for that.”

“We could rent them?” Eli adds.

“As J.C said, they are unique costumes. No store would have them.”

“Maybe Karyn could lend us a costume?” Eli insists.

“We would run into the same problem, moreover she agreed to lend a dress to (y/n) who is a good friend of hers, none of us can say the same.”

Eli frowns, annoyed.

“You could just… not go?” you suggest.

“That is out of question for myself. This is evidently an important ritual for the navy. I cannot ignoreit. Moreover, it will get me in contact with the chain of commands as a whole, I can not let such an opportunity pass.”

His arguments are sound, but still… You both turn your head towards Eli.

“I want to go too.” He responds, pressed.

“Then it’s settled, we should soon think about a plan.”

“Hey! Don’t bring me into this!”

“As you wish” Thrawn speaks camly. “But with or without you we will find a way.”

You gave a long groan. You were going to regret this.

_______________________________________________________

“What do you mean Eli won’t come?” You ask.

It is still early in the evening and you just ended your daily session of Shah-tezh and revisions with Thrawn.

“He has practice with the team for the Senior race.” Thrawn answers unwavering, replacing the pawns in the box.

“Hmpf.”

You sulk during your walk to your room. You’re not worried for Eli, his dancing skills are good. He can afford to skip a few sessions, but it is not the same for Thrawn and you're worried about the idea of being alone with him. Who knows what lies behind those incandescent eyes.

You inhale and get ready for what comes next.

“Wrong foot again.” You lightly shake your head. “I don’t understand, you master it when you are without a partner but you lose it when we dance together…”

Thrawn steps back at a respectful distance.

“Maybe you should let me lead for once.”

“ I will when you know how to put one foot after the other, until then you lead nothing! Let’s try it again without music.”

You get back in position, providing enough distance so he can clearly see your feet.

“Let’s try it slow, everything starts with your left foot…”

You start once again, swiping across the floor at the measure of you counting.

“One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. One, two…”

It’s already been a month since you started teaching them. It has been an adventure if only for finding an empty room everyday, muscle soreness and all the time they stepped on your foot. With so little time you’re only teaching them the three most popular dances for those parties.. Eli was doing well enough, you had started helping him develop freestyle. Thrawn, however, was another entity. He’s doing remarkably in the solo exercises, but completely spoils it with a partner; too fast, too slow, off beat, zero synchronization. If only he could just follow the music you could follow him in return.

“One, two,thre- Ouch…”

You hold his shoulder while you prance to keep your balance and he holds your arm for support.

“I am truly sorry,” he says.

“I don’t doubt it, I just wished it didn’t happen as much,” you laugh it out. “I feel like you're not with me on this, like you're absolutely trying to take the lead.”

“I am trying my best but it has proven harder than expected.”

You put your foot back on the ground and think, what could prevent him from improving?

You won't say you fully understand him. His mind works in a different capacity than most anyone you'd ever met. He couldn't even look at a painting without finding a way to bring the art of war into it. Perhaps that was the solution.

“I think… You see your partner as an adversary rather than an ally.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“This is not combat, miss (y/l/n).”

“That’s exactly my point, you expect resistance where there is not. You should relax, go with the flow! Stop being so stern and serious all the time… I know!”

You put the music back on dropping the ballroom style for a more upbeat and joyous style and slide the volume up. You start prancing, swinging on site and encouraging him to do the same.

“Come on! Dance! Have some fun!” You dance and skip “It will unknot your muscles, you’re always so stiff!”

His demeanor doesn’t change but a flash passes through his eyes like you screamed profanity at him, something akin to a horrified expression twists his face for less than a second before getting back to it’s usual imperturbable look as you rotate around him in rhythm.

You take his hands and start swinging them.

“Come on, come on!”

Understanding he wouldn’t escape this, he starts shifting his weight on his feets reluctantly. You start freestyling, shaking your head with all your might to shake off all your stress and nerves from the last month, the exams, the ball, the simulation test, everything that came and is to come, throwing everything away.

At the corner of your eyes you see him expanding and caressing his limbs, more into a choreographed stretch than a real dance, but it will do.

You continue like this for five more minutes before switching back to the ballroom music.

“Let’s try this again! And dance with me this time, not against. ”

You hold your hands and you already notice a difference in the way he carries himself. You engage the first steps and he follows with ease like something just switched in his unconscious mind.

"Very good!"

You keep up the same dance until the end. There were still some errors and resistance on his part but the progress was amazing. These lessons will be less tedious from now on.

“Much better! Let’s take a break.” You turn down the sound and sit to do some stretches.

“Did you make up your mind?” Thawn asks.

“About what?”

“About helping us with the costume. The date is rapidly approaching.”

You hum out a sigh. “I’m not sure. This is not really my problem, no offense.”

He looks at you in silence with a cryptic expression

“I see, a pity.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“No nothing, what do you mean by “a pity”? You never make commentaries without some idea in mind, what are you thinking about?”

“I was just thinking how displeased you would be if your secret were spreaded.” _______________________________________________________________

I’m an idiot, you thought, leaning behind a wall to ensure nobody's there and Thrawn behind you to have your back.

You regret accepting to help and you regret this date was chosen. Although it is the best date possible, the Senior Race is monopolizing all the Academy and both teachers and students are at the circuit to support the team, it also means Eli won’t be there to help.

You feel uneasy, you didn’t talk much to Thrawn since you tried to kiss him the other day and you’re not sure how to act. He doesn’t seem to know about it and is acting like always, but your lips and cheeks burn at that single thought.

You press yourself against the wall when a loud group of students pass nearby. The storehouse is down the corridor at your left, and the connection point in front of you, you will need to traverse the junction when the cameras won’t look to the next blindspot.

“You know how to enter, miss (y/n)?” He demands with a low voice.

"That's why you asked for my help., And cut it out with the miss, you're stressing me out."

You turn your head towards the camera.

“Go!” You check left and right and cross the intersection “Stop!”

Hiding from the cam behind Thrawn you open your bag and take out a little console and start searching for the round plug.

“What is this?” He checks on you over his shoulder.

“This, my dear, is a technological marvel that you won’t find anywhere else.” You found it and plugged it right away. “It will take some seconds to connect.”

The screen lights up and you start playing with the buttons, searching for the correct command.

“C’mon, c’mon… Ha!” You click and select the correct files. “I’m hijacking the stream of the camera. There! We won’t appear on the tape anymore.”

He turns himself and kneels next to you to observe.

“It shouldn’t take too long from now on.” Series of numbers appears on the screen and your little machine starts searching.

“So what is it exactly?”

“At first it was sold to technicians to manage stocks, but some smart ones quickly found out how to overwrite the primary code and transform this little toy into a global master key. It works on everything because the code is the most simple one you can find, without any frills. After that the Republic destroyed them for public safety reasons.”

“Not all of them, I see.”

“Most of them.” You laugh. “My grandparents once robbed a bank with one of those!”

He raises an eyebrow.

“Or so I’ve been told.” You clear your throat. “There won’t be any cams inside but the droids can record through their eyes.”

“You sure seem to know a lot about the infrastructure, J.C.”

“No, not really.”

He looks at you with glaring eyes.

“Okay, I’ve done it once. But I only took chocolate bars for Karyn’s birthday.”

“It explains a lot.”

You can’t say if his tone is neutral or judgmental.

“It’s open.” You close your bag and stand up on your feet.

You check left and right once again and go down the corridor to see the storehouse door wide open, you gallop to it and close it behind Thrawn. Glaring across the room you both hide behind a metal box left here. Rising over it you observe the armada of droids handling the stocks, coming and going in a waltz rhythm by the hum of engines.

“And now what?”

“Now we must find the aisle and the correct box.” He answers mimicking a shush.

“I can find the aisle.”

He frowns at you incredulous.

“I told you this toy was a gem!” You look up at the screen. “Row seven.”

You put your console back inside your bag and spy the droids.

“How are we gonna cross the room?” you mumble.

“Haven’t you done this before?”

“There weren't as many droids! I think they took on the fact that someone came behind their back…”

He shakes his head and observes the whole room. His gaze travels from the door to the droids, to the shelves.

“We are going to climb the shelves.”

Without giving you any time to protest, he walks to the first shelf, careful to stay out of sight of the droids and climb the ladder rapidly to the top. You grumble and follow in his trail, avoiding the mechas by passing behind diverse structures and climbing as fast as you could. at the top you measure the area between the two shelves.

“You know we can't jump such a distance, right?”

“We are not going to need to jump, we will use the wall.”

You turn your head to observe the reliefs of the motifs on the walls, you could indeed grasp your hands around and put your feet on the rails but… The surface is incredibly slim. You look down to see the ground and you get dizzy.

“I’m not sure about that.”

“You can stay here if you are afraid.” Without hesitation he places his hands on the wall and starts crossing the gape.

You gulp, you’re not sure those costumes are worth the broken bones you risk with that method, but you’re not a coward and you won’t let that chiss believe it.

You wipe off your hands on your pants and follow him. The surface appears even slimmer now that your weight is on it and you feel like this is gonna be really difficult.

Don’t look down, don't look down, you repeat like a mantra while progressing along the rails. If only the shelves weren’t so spaced out! You grip the embossing with all your might as you start feeling sweat run down your back and your temperature rising. Are you really risking only a broken bone if you fell? Your arms and legs start trembling at the middle of the crossing, in front of you Thrawn already traverses and waiting for you at the next shelf. It looked almost easy when he did it, why is it so difficult?

You stop as even your fingers are shaking with cold sweat running down between them.

“Why did I accept to help you, again?” You whisper.

“Because I know about your family.” He responds deadpan.

Son of a bantha! You feel ire rising in your veins and a new energy spreads through your muscles, you quickly close the gap and seize the hand he extended for you while digging your nails through his sleeve. He doesn’t react and turns himself to the next gap. You forgot there was still five of them. Damn it! You have to take your breath, this is exhausting…

As you stop your eyes travel through the room and you notice a pallet truck moving around. You study its path and calculate roughly when it will come next to your shelf. You step back and sprint to the ledge, as it passes you jump and land almost too far. You crouch and wave to Thrawn as it goes by. It is way quicker than crossing the gap! You laugh a little, realizing the situation is both thrilling and terrifying. You hold yourself to avoid trembling on this precarious balance and you can jump back to the seven shelf. As you turn back you see Thrawn imitates you with another forklift and joins you back.

“Good thinking.”

Without missing a moment he goes down the ladder and starts searching for the right box. You follow him and you quickly find the box you need.

“How are we gonna open it?” You ask “It’s sealed.”

“With this.” He takes out his Lieutenant plaque and inserts it into a port.

“Won’t they find out who opened it?”

“It is a blank plaque, it should not be a problem.”

You hear a click and the lid trembles a little before stopping, you both take one side and slide it.

“I didn’t know a plaque could serve like that!” You say.

“I found it out recently as well.”

Now opened, you could see a myriad of uniforms tightly folded. Without any tag you will need to eyeball each of them to find the good ones.

“They should be ranged by size.” Thawn says.

You both start searching and it takes you around twenty five minutes to find both uniforms and ten more to fold and place back the one you don’t need. You calculate mentally how long the false video recording is and realize you have little time to go back. Once done you put them in your bag and close the box.

Thrawn looks at his chrono.

“We should hurry, the race will soon end.”

You go back back on top of the shelf and jump again on a forklift. Thrawn is right behind you. His landing sends a vibration through the metal, nearly forcing you off the platform. Before you topple off the edge, Thrawn seizes your arms, pulling you tight against him. You can feel the warmth of his hand on your skin and it reminds you again of this fateful kiss. You clear your throat, uneasy. The first shelf arrives quickly and you jump back to safety and go down rapidly. The way back is spent mostly avoiding the cameras and lonely persons wandering the halls.

As you reach Thrawn and Eli’s room you collapse on Thrawn’s bed without asking permission with a long and relieved sigh.

“Finally! Safety!”

Thrawn leans over to seize your bag and takes out the uniforms to try his one again. He plants himself in front of the mirror to appreciate it and finds where to do touch-ups. He really wore it elegantly, you think. At this moment, Eli enters with a cry of victory, so much it startles you.

“We ended up in second place! I got to race ‘till the last lap!” He proudly announces.

You jump off the bed and hug him tightly. “Congratulations!”

As you separate, you notice out of the corner of your eyes Thrawn silently observing both of you.

“How did it go for you?”

“We’ve found them both, you will have to try yours.”

“Quickly then, I have to join the team again after!”

You then take the opportunity to pack your stuff and go to the door.

“I’m gonna sleep a little. I will come celebrate with you later Eli!”

As soon as the door closed behind you, Eli turned to Thrawn.

“Did you really have to steal them?”

“Of course not. I lied to test J.C.’s aptitudes.”

@exoplorationn, @bluechiss

[thesweetnessofspring]

So I was going to make this a Reddit post (since up until this week that was the only place to have any kind of real discussion online about Crazy Ex-Girlfriend), but I took too much time to think it over so now it has to go here. I can't hold it in anymore.

Nathaniel is a poorly conceived character and lacks a genuinely earned change of character as a result.

Warning: This is a long rant, hopefully with a point at the end. I just have so many complaints I hoped I pulled them together in a coherent way.

First, to be clear, Scott is amazing. No complaints on the acting.

But the character? For a show that took stereotypes and showed the human behind them in a a way that was grounded despite the ridiculous nature of the show, they just fell absolutely flat with Nathaniel's character.

Obviously Nathaniel is the "rich boy/antagonistic lover" romcom cliche. I think that is the first part which created a hurdle, because CXG is set in West Covina, not Scarsdale. The other characters are normal and relatable. I've seen Josh and Greg get more criticism for their characters than Nathaniel (which is honestly so ridiculous to me) and I think part of it is because we all know Joshes who haven't learned to grow up and be someone a partner could actually depend on. We all know Gregs who are bitter and make sarcastic comments and bring down the vibe in the room. So it's easier to hate them because they're grounded in our world. But it's rarer to know a Nathaniel, so the show builds his character based not how real rich people act, but perpetuates the idea that movies and TV shows have put in our head about rich people.

Why is Nathaniel a jerk? BECAUSE HIS DADDY DIDN'T LOVE HIM! WAAAAAA! HIS DADDY WAS SO MEAN TO HIM! POOR NATHANIEL IT'S NOT HIS FAULT YOU CAN'T BLAME HIM FOR TRYING TO HAVE JOSH'S GRANDFATHER MURDERED!

I know that parent issues can come across cliche anyway, but really? The rich boy's daddy puts pressure on him and doesn't give him affection? THAT'S the best they could come up with? Some Logan Huntzburger knock-off?

I loved CXG from the beginning because of how real it feels despite its ridiculous tone. I remember watching the first episode and feeling so excited, because wow! West Covina was so much like the SoCal town I grew up in and the characters I could tell were already like people I actually knew! Nathaniel failed in this way.

I used to work on occasion with rich people as a legal assistant. I saw a few third-generation rich people that Nathaniel was supposed to be like. Do you know what kind of so-called "men" they were? They were all spoiled man-children whose daddies were bailing them out of their legal problems with money, lying, cheating, and committing perjury. They were able to use their family wealth to dick around, not do any real work, and yet keep living life high. Did they have good parents? Hell no! Did they have parents who pushed them to the point of perfection? Hell no! These spoiled rich babies always got whatever they wanted, no consequences. And that is what made their parents so bad.

For Nathaniel to be so rich he has his own private jet, and yet be pushed to work so hard is not the way it actually works with people that wealthy. Yes, for rich people who are still on the lower-end of "rich" their kids will have to go to a good school and pursue a career with money-making potential. But Nathaniel has little need to do any actual work.

If you want a more well-known comparison: Donald Trump is a third-generation rich person. After all that came out in the media, you can't tell me that Donald Trump was pushed to perfection by his daddy.

And then there are other things that bug me like, Nathaniel is a water polo player...but that isn't a rich person sport. Not in SoCal anyway. A kid from my high school actually went to Stanford to play on their water polo team (like Nathaniel) and I come from an area that is very middle class at best. West Covina should not have been the place he was first exposed to normal people! He even says that his water polo team were his brothers, who would have been made up of normal people because water polo is not a rich person's sport. Which makes me wonder why it wasn't until West Covina Nathaniel starts "becoming nice." You're telling me away from his dad, as an independent adult, spending HOURS with normal people including traveling for games and team bonding, and it takes a lady with big boobs and a quirky personality to make him "nice"??? I'm not quite as familiar with Stanford culture, but again, from the people I know who went there, it's not as much of a rich people haven as the east coast prestigious school (from my understanding). Then Nathaniel's parents house looks like it's straight-up from Gilmore Girls (again the Logan Huntzburger comparison) when rich people's houses in LA look nothing like that. Why in a show so based in California culture are they making him into an east-coast cliche? He's a mirror of Rebecca, sure, but then why make him from LA if they based his character off of east coast old money? California is new money! Even if the wealth is across generations, it is not at all like east coast old money at all!

So in terms of keeping the character based in actually seeing this type of person in real life? I'd give Nathaniel...2/10. Just because how cruel he is at the start is how real-life rich people act so he gets a point for that.

And another thing that annoys me about Nathaniel is how hard the writers went to try and make him sympathetic. Because if you have a character who is straight-up sexually harassing a female employee, cheating on his lovely girlfriend, verbally and mentally abusing his employees they have to make him even more uwu than the other romantic leads. So they always pull out things to try and make people say, "Awwww, but he likes the zoo! And monkeys! Look at him hugging that alligator all sad! And he reads Harry Potter?! He's just a lil nerd!!" (at the time people still liked Harry Potter) I just feel manipulated by these "isn't he so cute?!" additions to Nathaniel's character. I don't see them as a natural fleshing out of the character, I see them as the writers trying to wave me over to distract me from just how downright awful he is as a person. And that makes me resent him more. Like...ok, you go to the zoo Nathaniel...but you were still going to have an immigrant deported and ripped away from his family, you jerk.

Rebecca does messed up things, too. But the show gives her a diagnosis, she goes to therapy, they at least show her apologize to Josh about what she put him through, as well as the hormone-induced attempt to take a hit on Mona to Nathaniel, and own up to what she did to Paula. Nathaniel's response to trying to send a hitman to murder Josh's grandfather was "in my defense, I was promised sex." He never apologizes??? really apologizes??? to ANYONE??? He doesn't go to therapy or even get a life coach or...anything. I guess he does nice things for people (while reminding them HE'S NICE NOW and DEMANDING they get over the fact that he, again, TRIED TO HAVE THEIR GRANDFATHER MURDERED). I would argue that Nathaniel is way more messed up than Rebecca and doesn't do a fraction of the owning up to his past that she did, which imo is still lacking overall.

Like my dudes, Greg has his AA meetings, even Josh goes to therapy. But the objectively worst regular character on the show...doesn't. Huh.

And I think that's what drives me so bonkers about Nathaniel's character. Yes, Rebecca is this force that comes into West Covina and changes people's lives, but it makes sense for other people. She shows Heather unironic joy. She challenges Valencia's relationship with Josh, which pushes Valencia to grow. She gives life to Paula's dreams again. And I'd argue Greg is more changed by the result of their relationship (the DUI he got trying to drive to talk to her) more than Rebecca herself just being that amazing. But Nathaniel's character comes in hard and cruel. His actions and attitude are the kind that in real life, are above what I've seen ever actually change because it is so steeped in enormous privilege. Nathaniel would need to be drastically, drastically, and for a significant length of time humbled--not just pooping his pants in the office. And I'd say even that would likely be a stretch. The writers made him so unbearable to start that I can't believe even Rebecca could really help him change. Imo, they don't show it. They chalk it up to "he just wants to have sex with her really bad...and...uh...yeah his feelings are now just that strong for her. Mmmmhmmm, a woman really can change a man by his sheer desire for her!"

I just think they bit off more than they could chew with Nathaniel. I get they were going with another romcom cliche, but that cliche was too out there to start with and they jumped fully on board with it, not realizing that the strength of their characters are in how they reflect people we actually know. Nathaniel's character sticks out as not belonging or fitting in because he's simply a stock character they didn't add any real depth or nuance to or any earned change. His character being so privileged makes turning him into a good person all that more challenging.

And if I'm being honest? Since you've made it all the way down here...I do wonder what it would have been the response if Scott weren't so good-looking or white. Josh Chan, whose worst crime is a toss up between kissing Rebecca while with Valencia or leaving Rebecca at the altar without communicating with her at all about it, gets more derision from the fandom than Nathaniel, who again, would have orchestrated someone's murder without a second thought. I understand why Nathaniel is so popular, but it makes me worried that even a show as progressive as CXG with fans who have the same mindset still give such a quick pass to a handsome rich white boy.

[magnuficent76]

I don't know the exact deets but I do like how we basically have opposite views of Earth existing in the Borderlands universe.

You seem to view it as "the old world", where ancient relics of it can be found across the Borderlands.

I view the Six Galaxies as a Star Wars-esque setting where it takes place in a time and space far away from our own.

Granted my view might change when I get my hands on the lore book but alas.

To be honest my headcanon that Borderlands is set in the future kinda came out of nowhere aha. The way I reasoned it was mostly because of The Autism but let me try to explain !

1) A lot of what is established in the Borderlands lore is that the eridians were the only ones on the planet for the longest time, creating the vaults and all that cool shit, which is understandable seeing as the hostile enviroment in Pandora would make it pretty difficult for anything not already native there to thrive, yet they've all seem to have been wiped out. The vaults persist, there are guardians and stuff locked inside, but not even a shred of info for what happened to the eridians themselves, even if their influence over the system still lingers.

2) Humans are not only the main species in the planet, but the only sentient ones. That, and the fact they're just regular people who die A LOT because of the circumstances of the planet, tells me that the human race didn't just come to be on the planet– they were brought there somehow, and have had just barely enough time to be properly adapted (I mean, there's like 3 moons on this planet, the gravity must be INSANE. That without mentioning the notable lack of actual water). Aside from that though... They're normal guys. They're stronger and have slightly weird proportions (but my money goes on that its just the art style), but those are undoubtedly human beings, whom also have very normal if genre appropriate clothing, language, culture— And most of all, guns. They're so popular in fact that the Companies' main products are guns. You could argue that they're just banking on Pandorans being more violent, but what about the other planets ? For eden-6, there's even lore about how their guns are made and valued ! There's cultural shifts for how guns are manufactured in different planets !! If these people just naturally came to be on these planets, they would not need that much fire power... unless they didn't, and they were already preparing themselves in case of a threat !

2.5) That, and the fact there's so many references to Earth stuff in this universe [The names of the planets and magic being after greek myths, the company cultures, how some characters' names almost sound misspelled due a mistranslation, the references to just regular ass animals but Fucked Up, etc]

3) Ergo, there was a mass colonization of Pandora by humans, which subsequently lead them to get to all the other planets but also wiped out the Eridians in the process. The old world's history was slowly forgotten due to a lack of records ("I mean really, who's going to forget about the human empire? Don't even bother backing up those files!"), and its tech was either swallowed by the planet's ever changing surface (Like Pandora or Nekratafayo, both planets which are incredibly unpredictable and have fucked up structures in them), improved upon so much that there was no NEED to keep using them (Like Promethea), or just rejected overall once the population was established (Like Eden-6, which I headcanon to have the old timey aesthetic BECAUSE people wanted to reject those news technologies). All of these planets used to have aliens in them like the eridians, and the system was all interconnected with the building of the vaults, but when humans arrived they all just gradually either died off or went into hiding in planetoids and moons.

But thats just a theory... a GAY theory

Anyway yeah my headcanons are basically surrounding that haha. Hopefully this is coherent ! I LIKE the idea of Pandora and the other planets being more like star wars, but I'm Also Insane about the idea of using interstellar stuff as a grander space adventure typa thing <3

[bugtransport]

okay look i might have forgotten i can long post here. so. here you go: this is the actual context for that picture i did last night (here) which i have only somewhat edited from a discord message i sent someone so hopefully this is coherent. spaghetti incoming

here's the fucking description of what i've been thinking about for like the past two months. so i think as i mentioned [well, maybe not here actually, come to think of it. for those who didn't know: this is the context of how i first came up with this] i ran through the episodes from when hongo left to when hayato came in in one single sitting after my covid booster when i was running a fat fever and i could not stop thinking about that ep where hongo "misses" his friends wedding because his actor is down for the count. i get why it happened logistically but y'know it just seems sooooo out of character for him. but maybe it could make sense with the right context... therefore: there must be something more important going on that he's just not telling people about for some reason. hayato enters, he's like "oh yeah hongo saved me!!" there we are. that right there is a hook for me. started thinking.

since hayato got rescued by hongo he didnt necessarily need to be awake for the rescuing or even for the surgery to be nearly as complete as hongo's was. hongo's a smart guy right. he could finish the surgery maybe. was not aware of V3 at this point so you know what? my brain is just huge. anyway. the theory then was: hongo scooped hayato out of there and wrapped up what little was left to wrap up at home.

that took care of my issues:

why the fuck did he miss the wedding: probably he was waiting for hayato to wake up

why was he gone so often and would only show up ask Kamen Rider: he was off showing hayato the ropes. i can see him being like a mother hen and trying to ease him into all the discomforts of being a borg (he unplugs his fridge so it doesn't make noise and distract hayato's Newly Sensitive Ears, dimming the lights even more than is normal in hongo's ridiculously dark bachelor pad, etc.) (i don't think hayato needs this i just take hongo as both a little neurotic and sensitive to stimuli) (I AM TOO i can say that) (hayato's way more interested in the cool borg stuff)

why didn't he tell anyone: borg issues and being afraid of shocker catching wind before hayato was up and running. makes total sense to me; the wombo combo of Hongo Problems

i don't have a way to end this post besides telling you that i think this makes sense and i like it :) obviously now that i'm in V3 and know that hongo CAN actually borg someone up... he had to have experience with that and what better way to start than to have tightened the last couple screws and put the finishing touches on hayato to save him too

[inkandpaintleopard]

Dude do not get me STARTED on the Soft boys

I get that their purpose is to serve as a little breather (until Monster, anyway), but I feel like there could have been more done with that? Like dude this is one of the few mods that even ALLUDES to Frank, it would have been really unique (especially for the time) if Ben and Pico actually got to meet him; it'd even fit into the story because they're trying to go somewhere and "Frank lets us ride in his van all the time, we will ask him for you!"

Also I have just found out that Father Fairest's first name is actually Frank so uh. That could be fun (/s) for Ben

(also I feel like whatever SM Frank is doing in this universe he'd sympathize with both Ben's and Pico's plights, but that's besides the point)

Also just. I say this with a heavy heart but I do not like their designs. I get what they were going for but it feels... kind of cluttered? I think they would have looked better without their costumes on, give Pump some face stickers too to make up him not having spots

If anything I feel like leaning into that "creative" angle would have made for better designs, show them covered in paint and glitter or something because they're trying to make things, maybe even a little dirt because they love to explore just as much as the OG Spookeez, but their clothes show stains way more because they're not pure black

OH AND ON THAT-

It's just kind of a personal gripe but I wish their colors were closer to the originals too. Ben, Pico, and Grace all have the same color schemes as their original counterparts, just muted/pastel with a few changes, but instead of pastel purples and oranges Skid and Pump have completely different colors. I do like how the color of Skid's clothes mirror Pump and vice versa, but it's just weird looking at those three and then these two

Also again a minor gripe in the grand scheme of things but instead of removing the mic entirely they should have had a toy microphone, it still fits with their theme AND the context that they like Father Fairest's music

Yep, yep, yep, yep, yep, I get all that… before I even played the mod I just thought “Well their designs need work but hopefully their character is good.” Like dude they don’t even get an original song. I like the way they’re introduced but other than that they have nothing going for them.

I hadn’t even considered the whole Frank thing, that would’ve been nice.

I have such weird opinions on their designs; I think my biggest issue with them is that they don’t seem coherent. Why would Pump wear blue? Why do they look like they’re wearing jumpsuits? Are they? Why would they be? And yeah how are they that clean? And where’s the spookyness in it? I think about this for a lot of Skid designs specifically, because I feel like you wouldn’t know he was a skeleton if you didn’t already know what he came from, which is fine for all of us, but I feel like it doesn’t make sense in universe.

I was planning on redesigning them when I finally played the mod, but every time I think about redesigning/stylizing a character, I realize it goes against the way I come up with stories and stuff. For the Soft Spookeez specifically, every bit of dislike I may have for them gets added to whatever story I have in mind. Like oh, one finds their appearance underwhelming and annoying? So does every other Skid and Pump. I can’t get any personality from them? Their character is now that they have no character; everyone else is baffled that they came out of the Soft mod and are completely trauma-free. So on and so forth, help I don’t remember how to stylize.

Wait yeah them having a toy mic would be nice; I find them feeling weirdly detached without it.

[norcumii]

Sunday way-beyond-six

To keep with today’s apparent theme, we’ve got the first, unfinished attempt at my Rex/Obi week entry. Well. Chapters 1 and 2 came first, then I tried to expand into details here, ended up drowning in said details and realizing it was WAY more than I could/should get into and would never finish in time ANYWAYS. I might come back to this one day, but I doubt anytime soon because I’ve got so many ideas from the bingo and never enough brains to work on ALL THE THINGS.

So! Without cleanup or any promises of coherency, some more Rex and Gargoyle!Obi-Wan!

*****

It was a roasting, humid summer evening when Rex discovered the guy he’d been hired to follow wasn’t cheating on his wife, but instead was a drug dealer.

The problem with drug dealers, as compared to adulterers, was that they tended to come with goons. At least these goons were walls of muscle that relied on intimidation, which didn’t mean much to someone who had to regularly endure roughhousing from a professional kickboxer who always played dirty.

Of course the not-really-an-adulterer had run off by the time Rex had taken down the two goons. He was trying to decide if it was worth calling in to the nearest cop shop in hopes assault and drug possession would stick or if he should chase down the target, again, when the skinny little asshole came flying out of the shadows. The unconscious asshole slumped down over his buddies with a groan, and Rex whipped around, gun finally pulled and leveled at the shadows where the body came from.

He did not need to get caught in the middle of some kind of turf dispute. “Come on out where I can see you!” Rex demanded, resettling his grip on the gun. He could see the outline of someone there, but nothing more, and they hesitated. “Don’t make me pull out the badge and make this official,” he bluffed. While Rex technically had a badge and associated up-to-date paperwork, ‘bail enforcement agent’ wasn’t ‘police’ and he had no actual authority.

The little alley stewed a moment long, then slowly the figure stepped out from the shadows. Rex’s jaw dropped a little, but at least the weapon didn’t waver.

Cody can never learn of this, he thought distantly, before clearing his throat. The figure had stopped once it was in decent light, head cocked and one brow raised. It was definitively not human, with blue skin, giant clawed feet, wings and horns. The kilt and thick leather belt were a disconcerting contrast, the reddish-blond mullet even moreso, and the neatly trimmed beard and mustache just flat out made Rex’s brain short-circuit.

On the one hand, everything from the pointed ears to clawed toes said ‘monster,’ but on the other hand so very much else just said ‘hot’ – Cody’s years of accusations about Rex being a monsterfucker aside, because his twin was an unmitigated asshole with no appreciation for creature features or general horror films.

“Er, hello?” Rex dared to ask. The other brow rose to match the first.

“Hello there.” It raised a hand, pointing a clawed talon at the gun. “I presume that’s a weapon of some kind – some sort of, what, hand-crossbow or the like?”

This was too surreal and could not be happening. “...sure, something like that,” Rex said, because what else could he do?

“It doesn’t look very effective. Is it?” The whatever-it-was looked genuinely curious, like it’d never run across a gun before.

“Very.”

“I see.” It nodded once, more to itself. “Well, then if you wouldn’t mind pointing it elsewhere, somewhere not at me, I would appreciate it.”

“That’s nice.” Rex had to struggle to not roll his eyes. “And if I do that, are you gonna –” Eat me – suck my – oh god, there’s no safe train of thought anywhere. “– harm me?”

“I’ve no intention of doing so,” the creature said, mild as could be. “Mind you,” it added almost as an afterthought, “I will defend myself or others if need be.”

Well color him shocked. “And I should just, what, take your word for it?”

“Hopefully so!” it declared, beaming.

“Yeah everyone says that. Guess how reliable that is.”

“Well if everyone says it – do I look like anyone you’ve ever met?”

That was possibly the most ridiculous thing in an already surreal, very weird night. “No.”

“There you go then.”

Rex could practically hear rebooting noises from his brain as that bit of logic mangling processed. “Do you normally play this many word games on people you’ve just met?”

The creature grinned, showing off impressive fangs there were absolutely not hot. “Only when they’re holding weapons on me.”

The creature had a point. It hadn’t done anything but banter so far – aside from helping Rex by keeping not-really-an-adulterer from getting away. Smart money said to hold the stalemate, but Rex had just a little too much faith in humanity – or whatever the next door neighbor was.

He lowered the gun, resetting the safety, and the creature’s posture eased for real. “I gotta deal with the cops,” he grumbled, “you probably want to get out of here before then.”

It...hesitated, then the wings settled down on its shoulders like some kind of cape. “I was actually hoping I might be able to get assistance from someone,” it said, earning a baffled look from Rex. It shrugged, an affable, helpless gesture that looked so out of place on something with so many pointy bits. “I’m a lost traveler looking for some useful information.”

“You’re. A tourist.” That both made absolute sense, and no sense whatsoever. Rex could see the way the creature’s eyes tightened, the flicker of a glance to the side – he’d dealt with enough multi-lingual folks to recognize someone doing a quick translation.

“Exactly!” it declared, beaming a beat behind. “I understand you’ve unfinished business here, but once that’s completed, perhaps we could talk? I’m happy to compensate you fairly for your time and the inconvenience.” It rolled something in its talons, flourishing some kind of silvery coin it had pulled from who-knew-where.

Rex hesitated, more from the weirdness than the cheapness. He glanced around and winced. “It’s gonna take anywhere up to like, three hours for me to deal with bureaucracy.”

“I can wait for a time, within reason. Shall we meet here again when you’ve completed your business?”

He was already shaking his head. “Not here.” He could not believe he was doing this. Rex was keenly aware of the level of stupidity – among other things – involved in arranging a meetup with the creature. “There’s a park, a few blocks that way. Meet me there later?”

It nodded, still smiling pleasantly. “That’s agreeable. I shall see you there – and consider this a down payment.” It flipped the coin at him, then lunged upwards. Rex caught the coin – way heavier than it looked – then stared as the creature dug into the brick and climbed up onto the roof.

The creature had left clawmarks. In solid fucking stone.

It was almost reassuring, because without proof, he’d be certain none of it was real.

*****

Obi-Wan glided above what felt like an endless city, grateful for the abundant breezes and warm updrafts from the leagues of smooth black stone roads. As overwhelming as this new place was, as terrifying as it had been to waken without warning in this new world of light and noise and an ever-present noxious stench – there was a majesty to it all. So many signs of abundance and foreign struggle for very different survival than he could imagine.

Terrifying, and wondrous, and he was keenly aware they needed help. A human who stood their ground, who talked with Obi-Wan rather than running or screaming – that was rare indeed. With luck, that might be the help they needed.

Obi-Wan kept a loose circuit around the building his human had gone to, grateful that the dark skin and light hair were distinctive. He emerged before the hour was up, walking with swift, discomforted strides to the nearby park. Obi-Wan waited until he’d settled onto a bench in a side corner before signaling to the rookery sibs that accompanied him, then dove down. He landed far away enough to walk into view, and it was strange to see the human relax for a breath before tensing at Obi-Wan’s presence.

“I was afraid I was gonna be stood up,” the human said with a wry grin. Obi-Wan hesitated, letting the words roll around in his brain. Padmé’s translation spell was blessing and miracle alike, but she’d warned that colloquialisms were liable to be...difficult.

He decided to guess based on context. “There was some kind of business exchange going on down the path,” he said, gesturing from the direction he hadn’t come from. “I didn’t want to interrupt.”

A sour expression crossed his human’s face. “Good idea – not this late at night, not around here. It’s not exactly the best neighborhood.”

Interesting. “Then why suggest it as a meeting place?”

“Close by, safe enough, and presumably neutral territory.” The man gestured at the other end of the bench. “Have a seat if you’d like. You can call me Rex; what do I call you?”

He sat, trying to hide his delight – and relief – that this was a human who understood and presumably was accustomed to brokering information. “Obi-Wan.”

“Pleased to meet you.”

~end bit

[theevilmaninyourcomputer]

For the past few weeks I've felt like I've been in some kind of mental decline. Stringing thoughts together takes way too much effort, and I feel weak and faint when I stand for an extended amount of time. Also, my head has hurt constantly. I mean, I've had a headache for three weeks (I have chronic migraines so this isn't that unusual). I came to the conclusion that I was just extremely burnt out, and coming down off of final exam stress. But I'm a hypochondriac, so I secretly began to assume the worst. Maybe I have a blood clot in my brain, or I've spontaneously developed early onset alzheimer's or childhood dementia! I actually cried about this to my mom yesterday and she was like, "I'm not taking you to the ER for 'brain fog'" which is honestly reasonable. So, because I am incapabale of being normal about anything, I started doing research and I realized: I am so fucking dehydrated. Like, ridiculously dehydrated. There have been multiple days in the last month where my daily water intake has been one or two cups of coffee. And fun story, my sister absolutely despises the flavor of water. So much so that she has developed an irregular heartbeat, is randomly overcome with vertigo, and has done irreparable damage to her vital organs. It's bad. She's probably going to have to go on IV fluids in the near future. Anyway, I asked her how much water she actually drank, and she was like "I don't know, two, three cups a day?" Well, shit? If she's experiencing these symptoms and drinking more water than me, then what the hell am I doing? So long story short, I probably don't have a serious medical issue. I just need to drink water. Hopefully.

Still, it's freaking me out. I keep forgetting words, like, really basic words. Or accidentally substituting words for other words. And if I focus too hard on the spelling of a word, or the grammatical structure of a sentence, the words lose meaning. When I referenced my hypochondria, I wasn't exaggerating. I legitimately do have hypochondria. So since I've noticed this, I've been in a state of constant panic. I'm used to my head being a place I can retreat into. But lately, I haven't felt compelled to invent elaborate daydream worlds or internally monologue for hours. And to combat this, I find myself straining, forcing myself to do so anyway. I miss the comfortable chaos that used to be my mind. It's too still, too stagnant. It's disconcertingly silent. I feel like something is legitimately wrong with me and I'm fucking scared. But at the same time, I recognize the possibility that I am making a mountain out of a molehill.

My anxiety always worsens during the summer. I wouldn't consider myself an extrovert (far from it), however I do need some level of human contact or I lose my fucking mind.

But still, what if this is just how my life is now? What if I'm just not smart anymore? My entire life, I've been told that my writing is what's going to get me into college. If I can't form a coherent thought, or write a sentence without second guessing myself, how the hell am I going to get anywhere in life? If I lose the ability to create, then I am nothing.

This is besides the point, but I've already made the decision not to pursue a career in writing. I think I would enjoy journalism, or screenwriting (just, something creatively challenging), but with the recent developments in AI, I don't think that dream is feasible anymore.

I'm trying not to spiral, but thinking gives me a headache. An actual, physical headache. That's not fucking normal. What the hell is wrong with me??

Anyway this blog is like, my journal now. I know that no one will really see (or read) these, and word vomiting into the void makes me feel better. It's like, the potential of someone stumbling across it and connecting that is reassuring to me. So if you see this, just...idk. Tell me I'm not going insane. Or having a stroke. Or losing myself or my mind of whatever. Tell me I'm just dehydrated, and that the world isn't ending, and that everything is going to be okay. Because every day feels like the fucking apocolypse and my head hurts so bad and I wish I could just feel good and normal and okay.

So I'll try to drink more water (like, wayyy more water) and I'll update you guys. My head feels like it's full of cotton balls right now.

Later, dudes.

[satari-raine]

🐌 and 🎉 and 🦖 for the writing meme

🐌 What is one of your smallest writing goals?

Ooh, interesting. Haven't really made any yet, at least concrete ones.

I'd like to write at least 1k of something not related to my coursework or jobs once a month. Doesn't have to all be the same thing, or super coherent - just getting something down, maybe make a semi-routine around it? I'm open to ideas, too. As much as I love writing and am perusing a degree in it, I'm honestly a snail at it when it comes to fic and stuff like that (so I'm loving the fact that the emote is so fitting.)

🎉 How are you going to be kind to yourself if you don't meet your goals?

Honestly, I've been such a snail at writing and posting new pieces for so long now - definitely a far cry from when I first started writing - that it feels more out of place to actually write something and share it, so not reaching any goals (all of which are small, save for one fic idea I've had on a back burner) might just be seen as a result of not having a lot of free time due to being in graduate school, teaching a course (ohgodhelp), and working two additional jobs alongside just, uh, living and staying afloat.

Long winded way to say I'll hopefully be kind to myself. If anything, come the end of this year, I should have a lot more free time to write, even if it's just writing for my eyes only. I do want to start posting stuff again, though.

Uh, so hopefully kindly? Hopefully.

🦖 Are there any fandoms you wrote for in the past that you'd like to return to?

I've actually wondered about writing for Yugioh GX or Zexal or even Voltron again, mostly because I have years old WIPs I think about fondly still. Same with Pokemon, too - especially since the Arceus and ScarVi games came out - if I ever catch up on the manga again. At the same time, I'm also happy to just think back on the former fondly and just daydream ideas occasionally. I guess this is the downside of not having many fandoms I've written for in the past? Food for thought, though.

(Also, uh. Ironically, the first fic I ever truly wrote before I even knew what fic was (so many, many years ago) actually was for Sonic - and with the new game being so good, I've been tempted, so something might come from that! If the snailness ever stops, anyway.)