#but I chose to put this one up first because

[jabbasyogainstructor]

Marriage wasn’t even forbidden for Ki-Adi Mundi, who had four wives and several children due to his race basically becoming an endangered species, and he did this with the council’s blessing.

Yoda and Yaddle were (as far as anyone knows) the last of their species due to their home planet, along with most of their race, being destroyed. In all likelihood, Grogu is their child. The first season of the Mandalorian did establish that Grogu may be a strandcast, sort of a genetically modified clone? It’s possible that they both donated DNA to create a new species member and skirted around the council rules, but it still makes them parents if this is ever revealed.

It’s also possible that it means there’s more Grogus running around. That is a theory for another day.

In general, anyone saying the Jedi can never be criticized is holding them to a very high standard and also a very low one:

High - putting them onto a pedestal, “the Jedi are good, they’re here to help and keep the peace, they hold themselves to such a high standard that they can’t possibly do anything wrong” which is Calvinist philosophy, and completely wrong. People are going to people. The price of free will is the ability to do right and wrong, the ability to discern the difference, and the ability to choose to do either anyway. Anakin chose to slaughter an entire clan of Tuskens, men, women, and children. Not only did he face no punishment from the Jedi council, but his girlfriend, the most powerful voice of her faction of the Galactic Senate, helped him cover it up, justified it in her mind as “he was just angry,” and then married him a week later, because she didn’t view the Tuskens as people. Anakin remained a member of the order for a further three years and then fully turned to the Dark Side because he was denied a promotion and had a bad dream.

Low- Anakin slaughtered as many defenseless children in the temple as he could reach with his lightsaber, and a shocking number of people gloss over that. I have seen many people try to justify it as “he needed to save Padme!” No. He needed to take Padme to a doctor. They didn’t even know they were having twins. If his solution was “turn to the dark side and then MASSACRE CHILDREN” before he thought of adequate medical attention, I would question every decision he EVER made as a Jedi, and definitely as a husband, future father, or human being. And he had already committed senseless murder before, so this wasn’t news to Padme. The fact that she didn’t immediately tell Obi-Wan that he had done this before when he confronts her with child murder footage shows the level she was willing to stoop to convince herself that Anakin was somehow a good man. It wasn’t just Anakin who was a failure as a Jedi, everyone around him failed, Jedi and civilian alike, when they excused his every bad behavior and said “no, he’s a great guy, he’s just troubled. He needs to blow off steam. He’s being held back. The system is unfair to him.” Nevermind that the Jedi council bent those rules listed above to accept him when he was way too old, let Obi-Wan train him when Obi-Wan was a brand new Jedi Knight with no experience training any padawans at all, let alone one who was deemed both “angry” and with a prophesied destiny that I’m sure Kenobi felt an enormous of pressure to not screw up, and they continually accommodated him in order to fulfill his destiny, by putting him on the council without letting him become a master, making him a general and letting him lead a clone legion, even letting him train a padawan himself when he wasn’t ready. They called it “wartime necessity” but he was also continually referred to as the chosen one by Obi-Wan, Mace, Yoda, and others, enough to make one think he still received some special treatment. Anakin is glorified by the fans and he is held to such a low bar of what good things he actually did that it’s laughable. You could not limbo underneath it.

Friendly reminder that if you're gonna critize the Jedi, they have to be wrong.

"They told Anakin he wasn't fit to be a Jedi" Yeah, was he? He was unhappy the whole time, broke all their rules and eventually slaughtered them.

"They massacred the Sith Order" Yeah. Those "I'm better than everyone and everything and they all should kneel to me or die" people? I see no issue here.

"They fought in the Clone Wars as peacekeepers." Yeah. What was the alternative? Standing by as the clones, civilians and the Republic itself (the best government out those in the galaxy, although admittedly that's rather a low bar) were massacred by the Separatists? Yeah no. And peacekeepers ≠ pacifists.

"They forbid marriage." They are a religious organization, monks. Fobidding its members from marrying is pretty standard in monasteries. They also aren't celibate, friendship isn't discouraged at all and it's all but stated by Obi-Wan in TCW S6 that romantic feelings are perfectly allowed. Several of the Order's members practice their home planets' culture and religion and language (Barriss has a Mirilian Idol in her room, she Luminara Quinlan etc have cultural tattoos, many characters have accents which implies Basic isn't their first language and others don't speak Basic at all,etc). They have no dress code, they are allowed to drink, smoke, etc., even become part of other religions organizations (see Plo Koon)! Marriage being forbidden is nothing, literally meaningless next to the freedom Jedi have.

If you're gonna critize the Jedi, they have to be wrong.

No, they shouldn't change their whole way of life just because you don't like it.

[viperwhispered]

Notes on Jamil's speech patterns

I was supposed to just pick out some examples of typical Jamil lines. How he speaks, the vocabulary he uses, things like that. Something I could easily refer to when writing to get the tone right.

But then it kinda blew up, oop – because it’s hard to talk about how a character speaks without also dipping into why they say whatever they say.

Plus then I wanted to get examples of Jamil in different moods, and could not resist some poignant things that were more related to his character or backstory rather than strictly the speech patterns themselves, so… It expanded a bit.

Anyways. Some things I noticed he tends to do:

Sighs (more than I realized)

Snarks

Tch (though could be a more general twst writing choice too)

Stutters when he’s flustered / embarrassed / caught of guard (what a cutie)

Goes ahem like an old man when he’s trying to get back on track in those off-kilter moments

Kinda formal with his manner of speech and choice of words (especially in servant mode) (I always worry I exaggerate this but he sure does do that)

But there’s still some animatedness with the way he emphasises words, for example

(so long-suffering and ready to bark out directions to Kalim oh boy - the way the directness just comes through when he loses it)

sugarcoating his opinions if he doesn’t feel like he can say them plainly (tyrant becomes rigorous, etc.)

sarcasm, sometimes with a side of deadpan, sometimes with a smirk

“Good grief” (another thing I didn't realize was that much of a catchphrase)

Very mild on the level of insults & swears honestly, (I mean, "drat"?) but I imagine this is more of a result of the game's rating (I guess for in-game reasons we can say he's been very conditioned by his upbringing)

I put the screenshots that seemed telling, and some related notes, on to a google sheet. That way one can filter and order it in various ways.

The sheet is probably best viewed on a computer or another larger screen, the screenshots might make it a bit difficult to navigate on mobile.

I did go in with the assumption that Jamil might speak differently pre-overblot (when the servant mask is firmly in place) and post-overblot (at least those occasions where he allows himself to be more honest). Like, there’s the sycophantic (as Leona calls it) flatterer, versus when Jamil’s honestly voicing his own thoughts. Which also shows in how I chose to categorize the screenshots.

Of course events are a bit wibbly wobbly in relation to the main story so can’t be placed in the timeline in the same way, but there are still those occasions where it seems you can tell the difference between the servant mask and a Jamil who’s not saying things just for the sake of appearances.

So, to explain the logic of the sheet:

First column has a screenshot of something Jamil says. The second two columns give the source.

The column for whether or not this happened before or after the overblot is only really used for main story things, since event stories are kinda murky timeline-wise.

Next is whether Jamil seems to be putting on the servant mask or speaking more honestly. This is where get more to interpretation territory, and I’ve not applied it to every screenshot (either because that didn’t seem like the relevant part for that line, or because I couldn’t tell).

The last column of the sheet is where we get most to my personal interpretations. So of course you might read these lines differently than I do, and that’s completely fine, these are simply the aspects that seemed poignant to me. Some notes are simply pointing out specific word choices or style of speech, others delve more into character analysis side of things.

Totally fine if you want to copy this file or modify it to your own needs. All I ask is that you don’t pass off anything I wrote as your own thoughts.

Order of lines is based purely on the order the pics were in my screenshots folder, so guess this is also an insight on the order I played things in, lol.

Tagging some jamil peeps in case y'all find this useful:

@crystallizsch @diodellet @moonyasnow @twstgo @lex752

@majestickitty @viperbunnies

[zerocoded]

summary: when caleb appears at your front door on a random thursday night after faking his death for weeks, you can't help but want to punch him straight in the knees. lucky for you, you do just that.

authors note: this beautiful drawing that i'm using in the banner is from this lovely artist, credits to them! go check their x account ♡ ANYWAYS, the caleb post i've been daydreaming about the last two days is finally here. CALEB GIRLIES I GOT YOU. let's hold each other's hands until the 22nd comes. i hope i succeed in portraying a real mc bc i'm tired of seeing us being just happy when seeing caleb for the first time when BRO DECEIVED US and played with our emotions like that. without further bs, live laugh love caleb.

warnings: SLIGHT yandere!caleb • gaslighting and manipulation • sfw content • bad writing lol, be warned! • depressive thoughts • reader is on her grieving period • work exhaustion • mental illness mentioned • minor injury • manhandling and pining • height & size difference • caleb literally invades our home • fighting bc reader is a badass and tolerates no bitches • mc bites caleb's hands lol • others LI mentioned • one kissy scene hehe • caleb screams at mc once (boo) • ANGST Y'ALL!

word count: 6.1k

your apartment was silent, except for the faint hum of the city outside. tossing your jacket onto the back of the couch, you leaned against the wall, exhaling shakily. the weight of the day pressed down on you like a vice, your fingers brushing the edge of the message from linkon city hall still lying unopened on the counter.

confirmation of deceased: caleb. adoptive grandmother, dr. josephine. cause of death: explosion – classified incident.

you hadn’t needed to open it. the words were already carved into your memory, and the weight of them had crushed you all day. it didn’t matter that the explosion was months ago—seeing their names on an official report felt like losing them all over again.

you pushed away from the counter, willing your mind to focus on anything else. the hunter uniform hugged your frame perfectly, as it always had, and your reflection in the glass windows of your living room showed how tired you looked.

did anyone notice how wrecked you felt? you wondered if tara had gossiped to the other hunters about your predicament, and if she had left you alone because she somehow understood the weight of what had happened to you.

the message was awful. being asked to confirm the deaths of your loved ones had thrown you into a depressive spiral you hadn’t felt in days after returning from the N109 zone. your troublesome heart sometimes made you feel like you shouldn’t have even been born. when you trauma-dumped this on rafayel a few days ago, he had almost hit you with his paint brush, the words coming out of your mouth too much for him to process. the painter was pissed that you could think of yourself like that.

but that was how you felt—unworthy of being alive, because the person who raised you had been brutally killed.

why not me? you wondered.

linkon city was adorned with shiny skyscrapers, and your privileged view of the city made you feel even smaller, your grievance nothing more than a joke to the world outside of your apartment. knowing you’d have to show up to work again tomorrow added to the weight pressing down on your shoulders from choosing to be a deepspace hunter.

these last few weeks, you had questioned why you chose this job in the first place. since coming back from onychinus and befriending sylus of all people, you’d been thinking about your life decisions more frequently. sylus made you question every little thing you had once thought was a virtue, which now seemed like selfishness in disguise.

the man was good at disturbing your thoughts and making you feel things that put you on the spot.

you became a deepspace hunter because you were selfish. you wanted to make a difference, like the people you grew up with had made.

you wanted to be smart like zayne and attentive like josephine. you wanted to be helpful like caleb and as notorious as your other anhaunsen classmates. you wanted to do anything to escape the feeling you’d had since birth—uselessness.

as you sank deep into the living room cushions and exhaled heavily into the lonely air of your apartment, your phone buzzed with a text from zayne.

fate was joking with you today.

are you okay?, it read.

his worry made your heart flutter a little before sadness took over your entire form again.

you didn’t have the heart to respond. lying required more strength than you had in that moment, so you tossed your phone onto the center table and ignored him.

i’m sorry, zayne, i wish i was stronger for you.

your stomach rumbled, and your ribs ached. earlier in the evening, you had let a wanderer get too close before killing it, distracted as you were. the mistake had left you with a swollen rib and a deep sense of shame. you’d promised to take care of it when you got home, but right now, all you could do was discard a few of your sharp weapons onto the floor before dozing off on the couch.

you’d probably hate yourself in the morning for sleeping with these tight boots on.

for you, the hardest part wasn’t the silence left behind. it wasn’t the way the world seemed to keep spinning while yours had shattered. the hardest part was feeling like you needed to smile, to nod politely when people said, “stay strong,” as if strength could stitch together the pieces of your broken heart.

the hardest part was the way people looked at you, expecting you to move forward, to let the memories be enough. but how could you, when the smell of smoke still haunted your nightmares, when you could still hear caleb’s laughter drowned by the deafening roar of the explosion? how could you heal when your soul was still bleeding, the wounds too fresh, the pain still pouring out with every breath you tried to take?

how could you move forward when you still couldn’t clench your fists as strong as you were accustomed to because you were thrown into the air and broke both of them at the incident?

you wondered if it would ever be enough, and if someday you’d find out who was responsible for all of this pain.

the kitchen candles were the only light in the room when you heard the doorbell ring. sharp and sudden, it cut through the haze and fought off your sleepiness in a second, your hunter’s bells ringing warningly.

your heart jumped, and your hand instinctively went to your side where your pistol usually rested, only to find it absent. you’d left it in your locker at the deepspace headquarters, thinking you wouldn’t need it tonight.

the bell rang again, more insistent this time.

“probably xavier,” you muttered, trying to shake off the lingering unease. your neighbor and cute colleague had been away on a special mission as a hunter. his absence had started to feel noticeable in the quiet moments.

you liked spending time with xavier because he seemed to understand you on another level. he never seemed to expect anything from you, which made grieving next to him a little less daunting. you missed his midnight visits and occasional talks about claw machines and stupid wanderers, and you wished he would respond to your texts asking when he was coming back.

you felt like you needed to hear his voice right now.

without thinking much, you unlocked the door, combat boots still on and dark circles framing your usually bright eyes.

“took you long enough—”

the words died on your lips.

it wasn’t xavier.

standing in your doorway, dressed in a pristine daa military uniform, was a man—ridiculously intimidating and strange. he looked at you with judgment and arrogance, making you step back a little and guard more of yourself.

thank god you still had your uniform on and wasn’t wearing some flimsy nightgown. the man seemed to be eating you alive in his head.

before you had the chance to question the stranger’s presence at your door on this random thursday night, he tossed you aside and pressed you against the corridor wall of your kitchen, your breath instantly hitched and your ribs ached from the impact.

your hunter’s awareness triggered instantly, instincts flaring and mind still trying to process what the hell was going on. your hands struggled against his grip, desperately searching for an evol to resonate with. if your mind had already been spiraling out of control before, now you felt like you could fight a thousand wanderers at once and focus on surviving with mere instinct.

you couldn’t scream. his right hand clamped over your mouth, his left gripping both your wrists in front of your chest and preventing you from punching him like you planned to. somehow, this was a professional individual who knew your fighting mannerisms and wrestling tendencies by heart.

with great effort, you managed to bite his hand that was closest to your mouth and heard his pained grunt right after. you swore you heard him cussing before his head raised and his eyes finally met yours.

your heart stopped. the world narrowed to the faint outline of his silhouette as you finally were able to look at his face. his hair was concealed beneath a presumptuous cap, the daa symbol shining bright at its center. black, red, and gold adorned the unknown uniform of the man who handled your body as if it were weightless, plastic.

you thrashed and twisted in his grip until he was forced to pin both your hands above your head, hissing when you managed to land a kick on his right knee. the door clicked shut beside you as he silenced your attempted scream with his hand again.

amethystine eyes stared back at you, thick brows furrowed as your gazes locked. chills ran down your spine. your hunter uniform pressed uncomfortably against the wall, your combat boots barely touching the floor. yet, despite your effort, he towered over you.

you wanted to cry.

the hidden freckles were the first clue your mind was playing tricks on you, the shape of his mouth the second, and his skin tone the third. countless times since the explosion, you’d dreamed of caleb’s touch—more nights than you could count. but as the weight of the day bore down on you, your fighting spirit waned, the initial rush of adrenaline fading as you stared into his eyes.

everything felt cruelly unfair.

his gaze was uncharacteristically hard as he watched you, his bruising grip on your mouth and wrists warming for a moment before you snapped out of your daze.

a smirk made way to his lips and his stupidly manly perfume set itself on your senses. another attempt at kicking him made him press himself further into you, ribs screaming from the pressure. if he noticed your pained expression, he didn’t mention it at all.

“caleb,” you whispered, the name barely audible. your voice cracked, your body frozen in place, your mind unable to reconcile the impossible reality before you.

he didn’t seem to hear you, but his hand left your mouth, his gaze sweeping over your body and his face so close to yours you could count his naturally defined lashes.

the tension between you two shifted as he eyed you closer, curious eyes landing on your pretty figure. he could swear for a moment you wouldn’t recognize him and that thought perturbed his mind for the next few seconds he allowed himself to bask in your beauty.

caleb was familiar with the sight of you in a hunter’s uniform, but never had he seen you looking this wrecked.

so pretty, but so unfairly exhausted, he thought.

in the weeks leading up to the explosion, he’d promised himself he’d never let you get hurt by ever ever again. now, seeing you like this, he wondered if things looked different from your perspective.

would you hate him?

would you hate him for the decisions he made? for the people he deceived and the families he destroyed? for the secrets he exposed so he could be at advantage and fight for you from a more privileged position?

would you hate him for wanting you all to himself and sharing the same fate as him as a human experiment? for wanting to take you to the ever base and expose you to everyone right before killing them? for being the demise of your life but still wanting to keep you as close as possible?

would you still love him after he told you all of the wrongings he did to make things right for you and him?, he wondered.

the look in your eyes told you no, and because of that, his grip on your pinned hands loosened, the silence between you two remaining charged with tension. he saw the exact moment reality crashed down on you. your gaze faltered, and for a moment, you looked like you were going to cry.

he would hate to see you cry because of him, even though deep down he knew how lovely you looked while pouring your eyes out. he have seen it a thousand times before. caleb wanted to make you cry in other circumstances, not right now.

his lips pressed into a forced smile, and your breath hitched as his eyes shone faintly in the dim light of the kitchen candles. though the light wasn’t very effective, the touch of his gloved hand was enough to confirm the truth: this wasn’t a fucking stranger.

caleb felt when you stopped fighting and caved into his touch, scared to death. he let go of your mouth and stared right at your lips.

“no,” you muttered, shaking your head as if to clear a hallucination. your hands remained bound, your feet still searching for the floor. “this can’t be true.”

he tilted his head slightly, his eyes locking onto yours. “it’s me.” his voice was calm, too familiar, too real. too cruel.

your body trembled with his tone, his breath fanning on your cheeks while your eyes scanned his. it felt wrong to say anything at the moment, fear still there in your eyes.

your body snapped into action, reality slamming into you like a tidal wave. you raised your knee, aiming to knock him off balance, desperate to banish the ghost standing in your kitchen.

but the colonel moved faster.

his hand shot out, catching your leg with unnerving precision. before you could react, he hoisted you over his shoulder effortlessly.

you stumbled, panic surging through your veins. your instincts screamed at you to fight, to move, to do something.

“let me go” you demanded, your voice trembling with equal parts fear and fury, punching his back in a futile attempt to stop him. “who are you? who sent you?”

“i came to see you,” he said simply, his voice steady and unnervingly calm. his eyes darted around the apartment, scanning every corner like a predator assessing its prey. “you didn’t think i’d stay away forever, did you?”

why did he sound so smug and heartless? it pissed you off.

realization set heavy on your shoulders—did he... did he fake his own death?

“you’re a fucking asshole.” you didn’t care that this man was more than six feet tall or that he wore a military uniform of all things, you kicked and screamed as much as you could after he threw you onto the couch—the very place you’d landed earlier that evening.

the moment he released you, you inched toward the center table where your spare weapon was stashed.

caleb’s smile faltered, replaced by something darker. his voice dropped, softer but laced with unsettling intensity. “i hope you cooperate from now on, pipsqueak.”

the words sent a chill down your spine.

“who the fuck do you think you are?” you spat, pistol in hand, ready to aim.

his gaze flicked to your movement, and before you could react, he was there. his hand closed around your wrist, pinning it to the couch with a force that made you gasp.

“you’re not going to hurt me, pipsqueak,” he murmured, his tone almost teasing, though the intensity in his purple eyes told a different story. “i’d never hurt you. you know that.”

you struggled against his grip, your heart pounding as fear twisted into anger. “let me go, caleb.”

“not until you listen,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. he leaned closer, his breath brushing against your ear. “will you stop fighting and thrashing around? i need to see if you are ready”

“ready for what?” you spat, your voice trembling with rage.

“for us,” he said simply, his tone calm, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

your breath hitched as his words sank in, the weight of them pressing down on you like a storm. “what the hell is ‘us’? you died. i watched you fucking die, asshole.”

he leaned closer, his forehead almost brushing yours, his voice a low whisper. “and i came back—for you.”

the weight of his presence, his words, was suffocating. for a moment, you froze, your mind racing for a way out.

it sounded so intimate, so romantically unsettling having him above you and saying things that made your heart clench. you hoped the hurt in your eyes was visible to the man. you hoped he still had sympathy and felt guilt somewhere underneath that uniform.

caleb stepped back, releasing your wrist but still blocking your path, his expression softening slightly as he examined you. “i need you to be quiet until i can tell you everything.”

“who do you think you are? you filthy liar”. 

caleb’s gaze flickered as your words hung between you, unspoken accusations slicing through the air like shards of glass. he shifted his weight, his broad frame now more a shadow than a presence in the dim room. for a moment, it seemed like he might say something—anything—but instead, he exhaled, a quiet sound that carried the weight of a thousand unspoken apologies.

"you look as pretty as always, princess", his whisper reached your ears and you felt a wave of anger wash over you.

"i don't know what you did to caleb, but right now is not the time for games". you spat the words with disgust.

"you think you know anything?" he asked, voice low but steady. his eyes, catching the faint glow of the candlelight, held yours. he looked scary above you. 

"you think that you are right?," you bit back, the ache in your ribs forgotten under the pressure of the moment. "faking a death isn’t something i take lightly in my books”.

his jaw tightened, the faintest tremor in his hand betraying him as he sighed. the silence stretched again, taut and heavy, before he finally spoke. “trust me to take care of you as i always did, pipsqueak, i just need more cooperation from you this time. i needed to do that so I could've gotten rid of josephine”.

the vulnerability in his voice caught you off guard, stealing whatever biting retort was forming on your tongue. you searched his face, the faint scars etched into his skin, the weariness in his eyes. "what the fuck did you just say?" you said softly, your voice trembling with the effort to keep it steady. 

caleb’s expression shifted as he saw the tense tone of your voice, a flicker of something unreadable passing over his face. regret? anger? it was gone too fast to tell. "i said what i said," he replied, his tone measured, almost calm—too calm. "josephine was a threat. she had to go, and i handled it and you should put this in your mind and move on."

"you handled it?" the words came out as a growl. the disbelief, the rage, the grief—it all boiled over. "you’re talking about the woman who raised me, caleb. who raised you. and you expect me to just—what—trust that you had your reasons? that it’s fine because you handled it?"

you got up from the sofa and watched him tower over you once again, not being afraid to fight him out of your house this time. you took a step further and watched the surprise on his face mix with a hint of mischief.

"you must have lost your mind, who the fuck sent you here? answer me." you asked, your voice sharper now, frustration spilling over.

he stepped closer, the shadow he cast stretching long across the dim room. his voice dropped, soft but firm, the kind of tone that brooked no argument. "the sooner you accept the truth, the easier all of this will turn out for you. josephine was a loose thread that could put you at harm and, trust me, i won’t let anything or anyone put you at risk."

"shut up," you snapped, your hands shaking as they clenched into fists. "don’t you dare put this on her. don’t you dare tell me you did this for me." you pushed past him, pacing to the other side of the room as if distance could lessen the fury building inside you. "you’re out of your fucking mind if you think i’m going anywhere with you. you—i mourned you, caleb".

caleb turned, his movements slow and deliberate, his gaze locking onto yours. "you don’t have a choice," he said simply. "if you want a chance of surviving, you’ll accompany me to the farspace fleet so you can prove to me that you are not a threat, this isn’t a quest, Y/N.”

"stop acting like you’re my savior," you shouted, spinning to face him. "you lied to me, faked your death, and now you show up here, in my home, telling me what to do? you’ve lost the right to give me orders, caleb. i don’t have to prove you shit"

his eyes narrowed, and for a moment, something like frustration flashed across his face. "you’re impossible," he muttered, more to himself than to you. “don’t make me take you by force, princess, this is already hard enough for me”.

his presence felt heavier now, more intimidating and more overwhelming. “hear me out on this one, pipsqueak, you do as i say and we can have a nice chat. there’s more than one pair of eyes observing you in this room, can’t you see? you do what you’re told and you don’t cause any trouble, this is my final warning”.

caleb’s gaze didn’t waver, feelings too strong for him to back down.

“you think i trust you wholeheartedly as well? don’t you think i know about what you’re capable to do, what weapon they made you become?”, he questioned, raising more questions about your past to the surface.

you hesitated, your chest heaving as you glared at him, every instinct screaming at you to fight, to run, to do anything but listen.

“you think i don’t know what you’re capable of? you’ve got every right to hate me, but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re in danger and i’m the only one who can keep you alive.”

he stepped closer, his boots echoing softly against the tiled kitchen floor, the flicker of candlelight casting shadows that seemed to stretch and twist with your unease. the space between you vanished with every deliberate step he took, and before you realized it, the cool edge of the counter pressed against your back.

“i came here to get you so i can protect you,” he said, his voice softer now, almost tender, though his eyes burned with something far less kind. “won’t you trust me, pipsqueak?”

you swallowed hard, your ribs aching as the tension tightened around you like a vice. the pain flared again on your right side, but you forced it down, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing your weakness. caleb’s arms came up, caging you between them, his palms braced on the counter on either side of you. his breath was warm against your skin, the faint scent of mossy perfume and something metallic clinging to him.

his amethystine eyes locked onto yours, drawing you in and daring you to look away. “josephine wasn’t innocent,” he murmured, the words deliberate, each one cutting deeper than the last. “she was the only way left they could get to you easily. so i had to get rid of her.”

the shock and fury bubbling in your chest clawed their way to the surface, but before you could lash out, he moved. slowly, deliberately, he raised his hands, his movements calm but weighted with unspoken meaning. his right hand hovered between your bodies as he tugged off his glove, revealing cold, gleaming metal where flesh once was.

your breath hitched, your eyes widening despite yourself. the intricate machinery of his prosthetic glinted dully in the dim light, a jarring contrast to the warmth of his other hand still braced beside you.

“i didn’t get out of there without paying a price,” he continued, his tone dipping lower, the faintest hint of bitterness creeping into his words. “if that makes you feel better.”

the sight of the metal, the weight of his confession, sent your mind reeling. you wanted to stay angry, to hold onto the fury that kept you standing, but the cracks in his armor—the familiar of his voice, the faint tremor in his hand—made it harder to breathe.

“turns out i gave them everything they wanted to have even more control over my body,” he said, his eyes narrowing slightly, studying your reaction like a predator watching prey. “you’re not the only ever victim in this room, princess, don't you see?”

his words hit like a punch to the gut, the nickname twisting something deep inside you. your eyes burned, the sting of unshed tears making your vision blur. compassion clawed its way forward, fighting against the iron grip of your fury.

he leaned closer, his voice softening, wrapping around you like a velvet noose. “don’t you see now? i’m your only way out. only i can make you safe, princess.” his head tilted slightly, his gaze piercing through the layers of anger and fear you’d built around yourself. “why don’t you see it?”

the way he said it—like it was inevitable, like you were foolish for resisting—sent a fresh wave of defiance coursing through you. your fingers twitched at your sides, curling into fists. the tears threatening to spill were not ones of submission but of frustration, of fury that he could twist your pain and vulnerability into leverage.

your hands trembled as you shoved against his chest, trying to create even an inch of space between you. “you’re the danger here, caleb.”

his expression hardened, though the faintest flicker of something else—hurt? regret?—crossed his features. he caught your wrists before you could push him further, his grip firm but not painful, his proximity suffocating.

“i won’t let you go this time,” he said, his voice quieter now, the sharp edge replaced with something closer to desperation. his eyes seemed to ignore every red signal your body emitted. “what are you afraid of, pipsqueak? c'mon, it’s me, caleb”.

the charged silence that followed was unbearable, the tension between you a living, breathing thing. the weight of his words, the intensity in his gaze—it all felt too much, too close, and yet not close enough.

“answer me.”, he demanded, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous rasp that sent a shiver down your spine. “you need me, Y/N.”

you wanted to scream, to shove him back, to wipe that look of control and simmering frustration off his face, but the words stuck in your throat. it wasn’t fear keeping you quiet—it was the truth you didn’t want to admit. the truth you couldn’t admit.

“you don’t get to do this,” you managed, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions. “you don’t get to leave me, fake your death, and then come back like nothing happened. like i’m supposed to just—just fall in line and listen to you.”

his lips parted as if to respond, but no words came out. instead, he exhaled sharply, his jaw clenching as his grip on your wrists loosened ever so slightly. “i didn’t come back for you to listen,” he said, his tone soft but laced with an edge of frustration. “i came back to make sure you survive. with me.”

“you are crazy” you spat, shaking your head as you finally yanked your hands free from his grasp. “i don't know why you changed so much. you call this survival? being hunted, manipulated, dragged into whatever mess you’ve made? that’s not survival, caleb. that’s hell.”

“didn’t you want answers?!” he snaps, his voice cutting through the charged silence like a whip. his tone is sharp, frustration crackling in the air between you. for a moment, you flinched at his tone. “answers about your past, about granny, about the aether core that lives inside of you?”. he motions for your chest and you lean away from him.

caleb throws his daa hat on the floor and runs his gloved hand over his hair, desperation clinging into his actions. a move you were so used to seeing him doing as a teenager now seemed to paint his figure as someone totally different.

“guess what,” he continues, stepping closer, his boots scraping against the floor as the small space between you shrinks to nothing. “i’m the only one who can give you that.”

your back hits the counter again, the cold surface biting through your shirt as his presence looms over you. his hands grip the edge of the counter on either side of you, boxing you in, and his voice drops lower, quieter, but no less intense. “i know you’ve been looking for the truth. don’t pretend you haven’t. every decision you’ve made, every risk you’ve taken, it’s all been for answers.”

the weight of his words pressed down on you, heavy and suffocating, as if the walls of the apartment were closing in. his voice, low and deliberate, carried the kind of certainty that felt like a blade against your resolve. you hated that he knew so much, hated the way his presence seemed to draw out every buried question, every lingering doubt you’d tried so hard to silence.

the truth of it stung more than you wanted to admit. because it was true—wasn’t it? every decision, every desperate move you’d made since josephine’s death had been about finding the missing pieces. about understanding why your life felt like a jigsaw puzzle with crucial parts deliberately torn away.

you grew up with people like zayne and caleb so you’d become the best version of yourself. still, you felt unworthy of everything you have ever achieved.

you were... at a loss of words.

your ribs screamed in pain against the counter, the cold seeping through your shirt and grounding you in the moment. you wanted to push him away, to snap back with something that would shatter the arrogance in his voice. but instead, you found yourself staring at him—really staring—seeing the desperation etched into every line of his face. it wasn’t just his words that rattled you; it was the way his shoulders seemed to carry the weight of something far greater than just your shared past.

you noticed the tremor in his hand, the way it lingered too long on the counter’s edge, as if he were holding himself back from reaching for you. the way his eyes, though sharp and unrelenting, flickered with something almost... pleading.

caleb seemed to be holding himself back—as he always did. this time, though, you were not sure if you wanted him to break and consume you or to let you go and forget the two of you. this was the first time in your life where you felt close enough to the truth, close enough to calm the storm of questions in your mind. still, your grip on your ego seemed to be as tight as ever.

everything felt unfair because you were oh so tired. since onychinus, sylus and the aether core, your mind has been settled into finding answers of questions that were never asked in the first place. you were running in circles and you dreamed every night about how you missed caleb. how you knew he would guide you into the right path if he was alive at the moment.

now that he was here, something felt uncharacteristically right for the first time in weeks.

you need me, he said.

it was a bold statement, a manipulative one, but the worst part was the whisper of doubt it planted in your mind. what if he’s right? what if caleb, with all his possessive behavior, really did have the answers you’d been chasing? could you afford to ignore him—risk losing whatever truth he claimed to hold—just because you didn’t trust him right now? just because his posture changed and his eyes seemed a little darker?

had you the privilege of saying no to him?

you have always been so weak for him, haven't you?

your gaze dropped to his gloved hand, still gripping the counter, then to the hat he’d thrown carelessly onto the floor. there was something raw about the gesture, something that pulled at a part of you you’d long thought buried. it was the same caleb you remembered, the one who’d run his hands through his hair in frustration when things didn’t go his way, but now there was a hardness to him, an edge that made him almost unrecognizable.

he leaned in slightly, his proximity sending a shiver down your spine. caleb’s hands cradled your face with an unsettling gentleness, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks as if to memorize every inch of your skin. his breath, warm and steady, fanned over your face, and the proximity made your pulse race despite every instinct screaming at you to pull away.

“do as i say, princess,” he murmured, his voice a mix of honeyed persuasion and steel. “you know deep down that i’m right.”

you hated how easily he saw through you, how his words made your chest tighten with the weight of unspoken truths. but there was a flicker of something else now—a sliver of curiosity, of reluctant consideration.

you stayed in silence.

“you’re trembling,” he murmured, his voice dipping lower, softer, as if the words were meant for no one but you. “what are you afraid of, princess? me?”.

his breath fanned over your cheek, the tension between you felt alive, electric, as if the air itself buzzed with anticipation. caleb’s hands cradled your face with a deliberate slowness, his fingers grazing your jawline like he was afraid you’d shatter under his touch. his thumbs traced lazy circles just below your cheekbones, sending faint shivers rippling down your spine.

caleb was very meticulous about the way he touched you. his words—carved in desperation just for you. he brushed away the tears you were shedding, breath in synch with yours as if he wanted for you to share your burden with him.

his thumb brushed against your skin, warm and steady, the faintest hint of mint and wood lingering in the space between you. the closeness made your pulse quicken, the steady rhythm in your chest now erratic and impossible to ignore. his forehead almost touched yours, his lips dangerously close but not quite there, as if he were savoring the moment, drawing it out until the anticipation was unbearable.

you gripped his forearms, confused at the needy feeling clawing its way out of your chest, the longing for closeness and safety that your brain always seemed to tie with the body in front of you. the tenderness he reserved only for you made your heart flutter despite the cruel truths and harsh words that had passed between you.

“what are you afraid of, princess?” he murmured again, his voice impossibly soft, like a velvet thread weaving its way into your thoughts. “it’s just me.”

the way he said it—low and intimate, like he was speaking to the deepest parts of you—made your knees weak.

his metal hand slid down from your face, the cool pads of his fingers brushing over the curve of your neck and coming to rest lightly on your shoulder. the weight was grounding, steadying, but it also sent sparks racing across your skin. the meaning behind his touch was at odds with the coldness of his prosthetic; it felt like both a tether and a promise.

you wondered if he was using your evol against you, manipulating your emotions, or if it was just your stupid, traitorous heart making you feel like you were floating.

your breaths came shallow and uneven as the tension between you thickened, palpable and inescapable. his gaze flickered to your lips, the intensity in his eyes making your stomach twist with anticipation. you hated how much you noticed the way he leaned closer, the way his presence filled every inch of the space around you, until there was nothing left but him.

“you don’t have to be scared of me,” he said softly, his lips brushing the words into the air between you. “i’d never hurt you.”

the warmth of his breath sent a shiver down your spine, and before you could think of a reason to stop him, he closed the distance.

his lips pressed against yours, slow and deliberate, giving you every chance to pull away. but you didn’t. the kiss was soft at first, hesitant, like he was waiting for you to decide, waiting to see if you would break the moment or lean into it. and for a heartbeat, you froze, the shock of it rooting you in place.

but the tenderness of his kiss, the way his hand tightened slightly on your shoulder as if to steady himself, drew you in. your fingers curled into his forearms, no longer in protest but in something closer to surrender, the heat of his closeness chasing away the cold air of the room. you felt something stir deep inside you when you felt the dips of his muscles underneath his uniform.

when did he became so big?

the kiss deepened, his lips moving against yours with a mix of urgency and restraint, as though he were holding back a tidal wave of emotion. you felt the shift in him—the desperation, the longing he’d tried to bury under layers of control. it poured out now, raw and unguarded, and it pulled something equally raw from within you.

when he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm and uneven. his hands stayed where they were, steadying you as much as himself, and for a moment, the silence between you felt heavier than any words could.

“just me,” he whispered again, his voice breaking slightly, as if he needed you to believe it as much as he did.

you're here┃caleb uses you as hostage at the farspace fleet next!┃caleb teaches you his love language ( on going series )

author's note: want to cry more while reading? listen to remember me by d4vd and tell me that this song doesn't describe mc and caleb perfectly. SORRY FOR THE POOR ENDING, i'll make a part two of this post soon, follow me to get updated when i post or just check my masterpost from time to time :) send me a request • my masterpost

[danisluvv]

Obvious | d.avanzini

Pairing: idol!fem!Reader x daniela avanzini

Warnings: none.

Katseye this, katseye that.

Everywhere you walked you either heard about the group or the members individually, billboard after billboard was dominated by them, they were everywhere and it was like you couldn't escape.

You listened to their music a few times, and you can't lie, it was really good, so you kinda understood what the hype was about.

But it's not just about the music, the members itself were very popular for their looks and personalities, you don't really get the personality part because you don't know them personally, but the looks? Oh, you understood that part very well.

They looked majestic, all six of them had their own charisma and beauty that would make anybody swoon.

You couldn't chose between who was prettier or funnier or cooler, but there was one person that still caught your attention the most.

Daniela Avanzini.

You first heard about her when you were watching the pop star academy, and later when the group debuted she got more popular and her socials blew up.

You were casually scrolling on Instagram when a katseye post popped up, it was a video of her dancing with her group members but you couldn't keep your eyes off of her, and when you saw her account tagged in the caption, you couldn't help but want to check it out, and check it out you did.

You were stalking her account when you accidentally liked a few posts of her, and didn't notice, until you checked the comment section.

-

@/katseyeluvv

Bro, is it just me or is y/n acc stalking dani she's liked almost all of her posts in the last few minutes🧐

@/danismygf

No fr I see it too and I don't blame her💁🏻‍♀️

-

And before you know it, the "rumours" of you stalking Daniela went viral, fans making jokes in both of your comments sections saying stuff like "I wonder how long will it take for y/n to like this" or "but I don't see dani liking y/n's posts, is it one sided lolol."

You were bombarded with comments like that even when you were live, and would get sneaky comments from ningning, which would eventually end up in you two cat fighting and Karinas scolding.

At least you were thankful that Daniela and you two didn't know each other and have never met, because if she had noticed all the comments and ship videos of you two just like you did, it would've been awkward.

Well, the fate is never on your side now is it?

-

02:34 a.m.

You locked your phone, yawning as you tried to put on your slippers half-asleep.

Ningning had texted you saying she was hungry and you were going to tag along to the nearby convenience store, no questions asked.

At first you said no, but then you two made a deal, you would go with her and she would cut the "you're obsessed with Daniela from katseye who is two years younger than you" crap.

The deal was made, and you two were walking to the store in the middle of the night in you pj's, you offered to drive there since it was so late, but she insisted on going by foot since it was a five minute walk.

"So, about the d-" she started but you quickly cut her off.

"Ningning, we made a deal, I follow you here and you zip it, so shush." She rolled her eyes, slapping you on the forehead, "hey, I'm older than you, show some respect!"

"Yeah, older by like what, a day?"

"A day is a lot, it's a whole Twenty-four hours," she slapped you on the forehead again, "ningning, I swear to God, I'm gonna turn back-"

"Too late, we're already here!" She let out excitedly as she opened the door walking in, you were about to follow her when you noticed there was a group of girls right behind you, so you waited, opened the door wider and motioned for them to walk inside.

They bowed, saying quick thank yous and dissapearing behind an isle.

"Ugh, such a gentlewoman!" Ningning held her heart dramatically, making you chuckle.

"Just get whatever you want, I'll be right here," she nodded and she also dissapeared behind an isle.

You started to walk around, trying to act interested as you waited for her, when the same girls from before walked to the register, hands packed with cup ramen making you chuckle.

You took a few steps back to give them some space, when you suddenly bumped into someone.

You quickly turned around to see a few juice bottles all over the floor, making you gasp, "oh my gosh, I'm so sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going."

"What? No, no, it's totally my fault, I started walking backwards, are you okay? Did you hurt anything?" You said in a rush, looking over her for a sign of injury.

She looked familiar, although she had a cap and a mask on, her blonde hair and brown eyes seemed really familiar.

You tried to think of who it could be as you helped her pick up the bottles, the realization suddenly hit, no, it couldn't be right?

"Daniela? Are you okay?" Sophia asked rushing over, dang it, she looked over to you quickly, like she recognized you without even seeing your face.

"You gotta pay for the drinks that spilled you know," the cashier said from behind the counter, her words directed to Daniela but you quickly spoke up.

"Here," you gave her your card, "for the spilled drinks and other things that the ladies wanted to buy."

"You don't have to," Lara interrupted, shaking her head.

"Please, I insist, since I spilled your drinks and ruined Danielas outfit," you smiled at her as cashier gave you back your credit card.

"Thank you, really, you didn't have to," Daniela smiled, "it was nice to meet you, y/n."

And they walked out.

"Was that katseye?" Ningning suddenly popped up next to you.

"Yeah, yeah, it was." You giggled and proceed to pay for the things ningning picked also, since you payed for katseye, ningnings words not yours.

-

Your phone was going crazy, so you decided to take a break from practice and check what was going on.

@/daniela_avanzini started following you.

@/sofia_laforteza started following you.

@/lararajj started following you.

@/y0on_cha3 started following you.

@/meganskiendiel started following you.

@/meretmanon started following you.

Could they make it more obvious?

A/n: lmk what you think about it in the comments and if I should make part two! Don't forget to like, comment and reblog! Hope you enjoy♥︎

[quiescentem-puella]

Till's expressing himself through clothing – a rant

today's sad alnst thought of the day is that no matter how you view round 6, I think it's undeniable that ivan was able to give back to till a piece of himself that he lost after witnessing round 5

and i'm talking about this

I think Till outfits are important when it comes to discerning his mental state/attitude, both because of plot-related reasons (imo Till has a degree of power over deciding or at least selecting his clothes) and also character design (in a media like alnst, where most things are said by showing them, it's clear that vivimeng put lots of thought behind the visuals). We know nothing about the behind-the-scenes between r6 and r7, so we can just LOOK at Till to see if something changed

I said that Till has some power over his outfit choices because he's the only one who personalizes them, or so it looks like. It's very much in Till's rebellious nature to vandalize his outfits and I think both the r2 outfit (the spray-painted t-shirt, the patch hiding his branding, the lack of shoes) and the scene we see in the top 3 video (with graffiti all over the room and paint all over him) are proof of that. He's always shown drawing and doodling, so i think it's a fair assumption that when we see that on his clothing, it's his handiwork.

And that... disappears in round 6. Whether we look at his outfit in the actual round or when he's entertaining segyeins, he's dressed in muted, dark clothing. Very put together for his previous standards, almost elegant with his delicate, silver accessories (thin chains and tasteful earrings)

Gone is the asymmetry and the rage. Till is mourning and so he dresses for a funeral... either for Mizi (who's gone and presumed(?) dead) or for himself (without Mizi, he has no reason to keep going. he entered alien stage and stayed in anakt for her). Whether he 1) chose his outfits before and let the aliens take over in his grief or 2) fought the aliens on previous outfits to personalize them and stopped after r5, i think in both cases his clothes show how much he has given up

and then we have round 7

First of all, the color is back. Acid green and white pants. The tech gear too, in place of delicate chains. The hair is slicked back, similar to the scene out of stage in r6, but it doesn't feel as tamed

and i apologize in advance for the frame i'm about to use to prove this point (only scene we see till full figure in r7) but

THE SPRAY PAINTING CAME BACK!! on the pants!! Personally I think both the red and the two stripes are Till's addition, you could argue that the blood isn't bc it's just the pants done like this but it looks handmade to me, splotchy. Very likely to be Till's hand.

So going back to my initial point: something has changed between r6 and r7. In r7, Till FIGHTS with everything he has. He doesn't let Luka speak over him, he tries his best. He falters, but he enters the stage with a spark, a determination that was notably absent in r6

I think it's significant that we get this in Mizi's pov

because Mizi RECOGNIZES Till. Not in the sense that she didn't know it was him, but in the sense that it's the Till she knew from anakt: wild, rebellious, hateful towards the system. He's raging and screaming, putting on a wild performance.

And Ivan's sacrifice is what gets him like this. It allowed him to live, of course, but if we read deeper there's also something else. In r6, it's the first time we see Ivan openly defying the segyeins. It's pretty obvious that he didn't have the love Mizi had for them and he disobeyed multiple times (running away with Till is the prime example), but he put on a façade all the time. I would say it's exactly what allows him to get away with so much: he's so well-behaved that no one suspects him. He has no leash because, in the segyeins' eyes, he never tried to escape (and he never will, bc just like Till will choose to go back to Mizi every time, Ivan will stay for Till as well).

The only times we see him rebelling is: 1) the scene on the rooftop when he was still in the slums; 2) in r6, when he defies all expectations and "cheats" so that Till wins

Ivan fell in love with Till after seeing how defiant he was. And Till regains his spark, his will to rebel, after Ivan's sacrifice, when he chooses to publicly go against the aliens for the first time since he was a child.

i've seen a lot of talk about how Ivan was Till's downfall: because Till cared much more than Ivan thought, because Luka used that moment with Ivan (and not Mizi) to bring him down. It's all true and very tragic, but I think it's really important to note something else too

Till was able to be himself again (even if just for the span of a single song) because of what Ivan did. Ivan's act of love wasn't wasted.

[shikhao]

perv!stalker!nat x reader

mdni // tmasc!nat, intox, noncon, every character on this post is 18 years old.

you both study at the same school on your last year, you have some classes together, but you've never been close.

ever since you did a chemistry project together (because the teacher chose it) you just greet each other at the school halls, nothing more than a "hi", but for Nat, it was much more.

of course, because you are so smart and beautiful, Nat begins to be fascinated by you.

you noticed how he look at you in class, but for you it wasn't a big deal, even though he kept staring at you throughout the entire class, fucking you up with his eyes.

and dawg, he needs to relieve himself, he always — like, every single day — ends up asking to go to the bathroom in the middle of class, he literally needs to touch himself thinking about you. he's completely addicted to you.

at a party where you were drinking alone, you were so drunk, Nat offered you a drink — which you didn't know he had put some drugs in —, and when you got so dumb, suddenly Nat started rubbing himself against you, how come no one was watching. but you didn't care, you were drunk, he probably wasn't doing it on purpose.

cute anonymous letters appearing on your locker, like: “you looked so beautiful today.”, “I hope you know how pretty you are.”, “you are mine and I will do whatever it takes to have you with me.”

he definitely thinks about you while listening to romantic songs.

he discovered your favorite flowers and had a student deliver them to you.

he followed you home for a whole week to find out your routine.

one day you were walking home from school alone, the streets were empty and suddenly he pushed you into an alley. he started taking off his pants and made you kneel down. “Nat, what are you doing?” “I’m making my dream come true, babe.” so he made you gag on his packer.

he made you swear that you wouldn't tell anyone about this incident, or that he would spread some secret of yours to everyone, that he found out because he was a fucking stalker.

after that day, he would appear throwing pebbles at your bedroom window every night, and you were forced to let him in.

at first you didn't like it, you thought he was a freak weirdo. but after a few weeks, you started to fall in love with him. he really did so many things just to have you by his side. <3

on those nights when he appeared in your room, you slept cuddling together, he always ended up rubbing himself against you, touching you inappropriately, but you got used to liking it.

modern au perv!stalker!nat

an unknown number sent you lots of love messages, you don't know who is that, but you couldn't care less, what could he do, after all? so you ended up not blocking it.

suddenly you started receiving nudes from this unknown number, and man, it was Nat, you found out when he sent you a boob pic showing his face. you don't know if it was intentional.

he took pictures of you while you were changing in your room.

he managed to put a tracker on your cell phone.

I'm sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language and it's my second writing here. hope y'all enjoy it.

[stormyblueberry]

HOW DID I NOT GET NOTIFIED ABOUT THIS!? Im not tagging anyone, it’s open tags because I don’t have that many people to tag xD

So for those who don’t know, I chose Storm because she’s my main OC who also became my online persona.

StormyBlueberry came around eventually because her hair is a blue to purple ombré and I couldn’t get her being a blueberry out of my head.

Now that’s just the short story.

The long story is… Well, let’s start at when I first made her.

Imagine a 10-year-old Stormy who doesn’t enough know about or write fanfiction yet. I’d been on the internet since I was little, only at my dad’s house though. That’s where she got all my YouTube content until my stepdad gave her a phone. Technically, it was his one kid’s that we no longer talk to, but shhh, it was my phone from that day forward.

One day, just for fun, I started thinking about myself in one of my favourite series. For the life of me, I can’t remember which story I tried to self-insert myself into, I think it was the Rainbow Magic series? Don’t ask how little old American Stormy got a children’s book series written by people in Britain, but she did.

When I turned 14, though, is when I finally put pen to paper for her. First it was Quotev for a short stint of time, then it turned into Wattpad for my entire high school writing career.

First, she was just Storm because I’d used her in a fanfic with Jacksepticeye, crankgameplays, Nathan Sharp, PewDiePie, Markiplier, their egos, and of course, [Y/N] as the main cast.

I need to go back and delete that story now that I think about it… It’s not really me as a person anymore…

Anyways, while I was in the middle of writing that fic on Quotev, I’d found fanfictions from the fandom of a Minecraft FNAF rp my best friend, Hollywood, had gotten me into. It spiralled from there, because FNAF quickly became one of my biggest hyperfixations.

From that moment on, Storm was a multi-fandom OC. She was in the FNAF universe, and TheFamousFilms was my outlet for a short stint of time.

Then came Bendy (her husband), then Baldi’s Basics, then all of my other hyperfixations… And a whole list of last names.

Her main one, of course, is Afton.

Her next main ones are Lawrence and Drew, Lawrence because her dad is Sammy Lawrence, and Drew because of the OC I use a lot in Bendy fics that is actually Joey Drew’s son, Ben, who actually got tossed into the ink machine and turned into Bendy.

His sister, Ryan/Reanna, is shipped with my other Anti and another OC. Ben was originally created by the same person who made Reanna (who, btw is trans, mtf) but I stole Ben and made him my OC.

My online bestie was cool with me stealing him, just throwing that out there.

Now the Blueberry part, that actually came about in a roleplay that me and my online bestie were doing in a Google doc after we lost the third member of our group and before we moved said rp to Discord.

Yes I roleplay, so kindly shut.

Anyways, I kept coming up with many different nicknames for Storm related to her hair colour. I kept going from Bluejay, to Bluebird, to Bluey (this was before the show came out), to Blues Clues, to eventually Blueberry.

That one stuck, obviously.

I originally went by NightmareStorm on Quotev, then NightmareStorm102603 on Wattpad, then changed my Wattpad to StormAfton102603, then nixed the Afton and changed that one tiny part of the name to Films, then eventually changed it to Storm_The_Blueberry on both Wattpad and Archive of Our Own when I got invited there.

So there! That’s my story.

Edit: I lied I’m tagging @firequeenofficial just so she can see it, she already shared her username story, she doesn’t have to go again. Open tags still!

Tag game🎉

Tag your moots and ask them where they got the idea for their tumblr accounts name!

For my name it was a nickname I was giving back in middleschool! One of our teacher had a system where we worked with 'wifi' eachtime we talked in class we lost a bar of the "wifi" (was a weird joke and we never held count on that) All the kids usually joked if they needed 'wifi' , they would borrow mine if they wanted to talk more. (I was incredibly shy in middle school, I only talked to like 3 people at school;^;)

They called me Ms. Wifi because of that. I just thought it would be funny if I put 'miss' instead of 'ms' because of my terrible actual wifi connection I have at home lol.

That's my story! Now moots, only if you guys want to, tell us your story.

Tags-> @slipping-lately @firequeenofficial @noagskryf @twinklstarrrr @halfbakedspuds @polterwasteist @rokushi-san @mygedagtes +anyone that sees this and wants to do this as well

[conflagrazione]

Near (from death note) is a character that makes me so insane even after like six years since the first time I read the manga because. Imagine.

You're an orphan that grew up idolizing a person you never even spoke to and you liked him even more when he said that "he's a cheater that doesn't like to lose" and you found out that is not the embodiment of justice but just a man like you that liked to solve puzzles. You two even look so alike! And then he dies. And your rival/foster brother/ guy with whom you have this weird religious coded tension says that you're better suited for the job anyway, you've always been smarter than him anyway, and leaves you alone at THIRTEEN to solve the world's most dangerous case. And you don't even hate said guy, you kind of respect him and want to work with him but he makes his life purpose to beat you at this game. And you're the younger in this case but you're the less childish (emotionally speaking) and you are probably the character that expresses more vocally his dislike of Kira, that has not even a little bit of admiration for his intellect or motivation, and that's the reason why you're the one destroying his pathetic ass in the wharehouse. And then you spend years of your life alone because your "rival" put aside his fatal flaw and decided to die (knowing he will die) to save you and your team, because winning didn't make sense if he couldn't wait for you on the finish line. But they are the martyrs, and you are the one that put together their merits. So you let your hair grows like L's and you try to solve every case like he would, fulfilling the role of a dead person. Keeping L's and Mello's dolls with you even years after everything ended.

I always get annoyed when people accuse Near of being less smart than L ,of "not caring" about the Minoru case, of being a "bad copy" because he and L are identical. Babe. That's the point. He's not L, and he's not superior to him unless him and mello cooperate. Near himself aknowledges that the case was solved because of him and mello. Of course he doesn't do a big move (like shutting down sakura tv) to stop Minoru. That's something L (or even more, Mello) would do. Of course adult Near and L look so similar, he's trying to be him!!

(Honestly I wonder if him saying he wasn't very L- like in the C- Kira oneshot was the moment in which he chose to follow his own path, since in Minoru oneshot he doesn't seem as worried about acting like L as in the C-Kira oneshot or in the original series)

He is a bad copy. He's also just a half of the whole. He's not a copycat, he is haunted.

[lunaandco]

grassroots

pairing: gavi x ofc

summary: bea made a friend while getting her credentials to become a coach.

author's note: gavi said he was a coach and my hand slipped. nkt really happy with how this turned out.

taglist: @htpssgavi; @joaosnovia

masterlist // I do not take requests

The entire classroom looked up to him when he opened the door. Gavi awkwardly limped inside, ignoring the hushed whispers. He was not necessarily happy to be back in a classroom or to be surrounded by people he did not know very well and that already were gossiping about him, but both him and his therapist had agreed he needed to do something with his free time.

So getting some coaching credits done seemed like a great idea.

Gavi rushed to the back of the classroom. Contrary to popular belief, he had not been the bad boy that couldn't pass an exam and always got into trouble, but no one seemed to care about that now, as he caught a couple of eye rolls.

At the back of the class, there was only one seat left free, next to a girl that looked his age.

"I'm Gavi," he said.

"Bea."

The girl did not give any indications that she had recognised him, but Gavi knew she did. In the end, they were in a La Masia classroom, taking a course to become coaches. It wasn't too much of a stretch to assume she had watched a couple of Barça matches.

"Ah, Gavi, so glad you could join us. As I was saying..."

💙❤️

"You're the last guy to come, so you've got to do the practice workload with the girls team," explained Ramón, one of the youngest guys in the class. He was still five years older than Gavi. "Everyone kind of wants to train the boys, so... the spots filled up immediately. But between you and me... I'm sure they can do a little exception for you."

That part made Gavi uncomfortable. The one where it was insinuated that he could get all kind of favours and privileges, only because of who he was. He felt a heavy stare on the back of his head.

Gavi turned, even if he knew who was looking at him. Bea didn't speak much, but he could tell when she was judging him.

"She's hot, isn't she?" taunted Ramón.

"I guess?"

"She's a cold bitch. Won't let anyone hit. But I bet you could—" Gavi tuned out his blabber. Bea was the only girl in their class, the youngest with him, and a woman of very few words. She was probably the only one that chose the girls team voluntarily.

It did not take a genius to notice she basically hated everyone in the class, and hearing the way Ramón was talking, Gavi could understand why. Women in a male dominated field like football had to deal with a lot of bullshit, and just by observing Bea, Gavi was discovering new angles to it.

"I'm not gonna flirt with her," he protested. "She's a classmate just like you are. I don't flirt with you, do I?"

Ramón sputtered.

"Of course not—"

"And the girls team sounds fun. I've got little girl cousins, they are always super cool to play with."

💙❤️

In the end, and without the irony escaping to Gavi, he was paired with Bea for their practice activities with the teams.

The girls they had to coach could not be older than nine. Gavi watched them run around in the warm up drill he had set for them, heart squeezing. Bea was spreading some cones around the pitch for their next activity, silently watching them play. Her black hair was put up in a ponytail, blue eyes glimmering under the sun.

Gavi returned his gaze to the children, as she whistled them to regroup. Bea explained the next activity, her voice firm but sweet. She turned to do a demonstration, placing a ball by the first cone.

"Why doesn't Gavi do the demonstration?" Asked a girl. "He's very good!"

Bea's eyes darted to Gavi, and unreadable expression taking over her face. Gavi could not do the drill, since he had barely been cleared to walk without crutches, but the girls didn't need to know that.

"It's a secret, but Bea here is actually a pro in this exercise." He told the girls. "She xoes it waaaay better than I do."

The girls exclaimed in awe, going back to Bea to watch the rest of the demonstration. Once they were doing the exercise themselves, Bea went to stood next to him.

"Thank you," she said.

💙❤️

Once the children were picked up by the parents, Bea and Gavi were left to pick up all the mess they've made. Their instructor had left too, happy with the marks and notes he had gathered from their activities.

Gavi could not carry much, still quite useless with his injury, but he could walk with Bea and make her some company, following her like a sad little puppy.

"How did you know you wanted to be a coach?" He asked abruptly. Bea turned to look at him. "What? Just wondering."

"My little sister is in a girls team. No one will take them, and to enter the league they ended a qualified coach. La Masia offered a scholarship and I earned it."

"So... no aspirations of being a great adult coach?"

"No." Bea shrugged. "That kind of ambition is not for me."

Gavi nodded. He wondered what Bea thought, seeing the men in their class reject the girls team too. Like a vicious loop she couldn't get out.

"I want to be a coach when I retire. Here at Barça."

"Of course." There was no condescension in her tone, just the acceptance of someone who had already accepted jt as the truth.

"A bit cliche, I guess." Gavi admitted. Bea shook her head, a soft smile covering her lips.

"Well, there is nothing wrong with being a romantic."

A smile tugged at Gavi's lips.

"What's your sister's name?"

"Sonia."

💙❤️

"It's not exactly regular," said the instructor, "but if you want to switch to the boys'..."

"No," Gavi shut it down immediately. "I like the gursl just fine."

💙❤️

Bea warmed up to him slowly. Gavi could tell it made her uncomfortable when the grown ass men in their class stared at them interacting, but she was mkre open when it was just them with the children.

Graduation approached rapidly, as the climate turned hotter and Gavi's knee recovered most of its strength. The Eurocup was soon and he was desperate to find something else to do.

Bea laughed when he said he would show up at her sister's training, but when she saw him approach the shitty pitch with a hood up and a bag full of snacks for the kids, she hugged him tighter than ever.

Sonia was as sweet as he expected, clinging at her sister's shoulders like a monkey.

💙❤️

With the grassroots coaching licence, Gavi had very little he could do, but he still dragged his physios to Sonia's debut in the proper league. Now that Bea had the title, the girls were allowed to play.

The match ended in a draw against a boy's team that had been playing in that league for ages, which tasted like victory.

For the first time since Gavi had known Bea, she grinned genuinely at football related stuff.

💙❤️

"Thank you for showing up," said Bea, walking him to his car, a sleep Sonia in her arms. Gavi shook his head.

"Thank you for being there. Took my head out of some bad stuff."

"It's good for the girls, to see people like you care..." muttered Bea.

"Well, your girl is gonna know how much we care, I wouldn't be surprised if La Masia's scouts put an eye on her," Gavi gestured towards Sonia with his chin.

"Ha," Bea laughed, before realising Gavi was serious. "Fucks sake boy, I thought this would be only a hobby..."

Gavi shrugged.

"Depends on what she wants, doesn't it?"

"I guess. "

They fell into silence. A couple of kids with their parents passed them and Gavi lowered his head to avoid being recognised.

"I guess I'll see you in your next game? Sonja want to make sure she can skil her bedtime that one day." Asked Bea. He was almost healed, the medical green light closer every day.

"Sure. Soon. You... you could come, right? To the game?"

"You want us there?"

"I want you there always," blurted Gavi. It was risky, threatening their friendship with the promise of more, but it was worth the shot.

Bea smiled a bit.

"Is that so?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I could go, for the right incentive."

"What would that be?" Gavi was mkre breathless than after a full 90.

"Maybe a kiss?"

"Fuck, yeah" He bent over to kiss her, ignoring Sonia's complaints as the movement woke her up.

[galehowl]

I'm sorry, but I can't get over still what a mess Grievous' backstory now is lol, and mostly because I haven't looked at it for a few years, and somehow things got even more jumbled since then.

The amount of inconsistencies and conflicting info is just staggering.

Like, at this point I would honestly respect whoever is doing this shit way more ( initially Lucas and Filoni lol ) if they actually just. Changed his story and stuck to it. No "ambiguity" that Filoni tried to slide in out of respect and likely knowing fans wouldn't appreciate the new writing, no nothing. I would also respect it more if I could at least see that they put ACTUAL thought into it, more than the apparent 30 SECONDS that turned him into a character a 2-year old created.

I'd still ignore it, sure, but at least they could TRY to do something interesting with the "new and "improved" lore".

Instead we got that atrocity, and then the weird sliding back into Legends lore with them picking out some pieces and adding them to his "canon", while trying to avoid actually just changing it back to what it was, despite it creating a ton of nonsensical holes in the story. Why.

One of the MANY, but more recent examples I've seen was the shuttle crash incident from the now Legends, which made sense there, but not only does it make little to NO sense in the new lore, they also try to DIRECTLY STATE THAT IN THEIR OWN NEW CANON MATERIALS. They literally write "but actually it wouldn't have mattered if the crash happened, if it was the Sith who orchestrated it, because he already chose to be a cyborg and would've ended up as one anyway". Okay, then. Why did you add this back at all in the first place. You could've just not done this? Why was it brought back from Legends into canon just so you can then repeatedly say "but this event actually doesn't matter and has no effect on the story or Grievous' character development".

Literally what is this fucking shit. Who is doing this lol. How is any of this even acceptable writing.

Just, ffs - either keep his new lore, remove all the Legends stuff from it, and actually at least TRY to make something out of it - there are SOME interesting ideas, themes and directions they could go with this! If they actually gave a single fuck!

Or bring back his Legends story, remove this trash, and polish and work on expanding the original instead.

Every time I see some new piece of media that focuses on him, I have a shred of hope that they'll start doing something, anything with him, but instead it's either more garbage, or we just get something that expands on nothing at all, really.

It seriously feels like he's just a hated character by the majority of creators there, who refuse to work on him for YEARS and would rather give Jar Jar and other minor characters more development and screen time than him LOL. Jesus.

[knockknockitsnickels]

I think this is one of my favorite lines from the Wraith route because of (imo) how much the meaning changes depending on if you got there via Spectre or Nightmare. For Spectre, it honestly strikes me as a genuine question. Why are you doing this to her? If you're on the Spectre route, you presumably already know the Narrator can't really be trusted, since you had to reject his reward to get here. What are you hoping to gain from continuing to hurt her? For Nightmare, it honestly just makes me sad. As the Shifting Mound describes her, "She desires only companionship, but the only thing she knows is how to hurt." This line feels like a plea from someone who genuinely doesn't understand why you keep rejecting her. She wants to be with you, but she just can't understand how to do that in a way which doesn't hurt you.

[cometnoodle]

thought itd be fun to put edelgard in (vaguely) historical outfits from 1180s-ish, byzantine-ish and the holy roman emperors' coronation regalia lol

[sir-phineas-lost]

I have actually come around to thinking Aaravos involvement in Viren's death is a bit overstated. In part because I just hate the "Aaravos is behind everything" nonsense, especially in this situation where it undermines so many other character arcs, but also because it kinda just makes sense that he didn't do any of the things that lead to Viren dying.

While Karim meets Pharros soon after he is exiled, we are given no indication that seeking out Sol Regem or using the Sun Seed to heal him was even mildly suggested by Pharros/Aavaros. All of those plans were explained by Karim to Pharros (which does mean Aaravos would be aware of them) but they were 100% Karim's ideas. There is not even a hint of Pharros telling Karim a story or anything else that is Aaravos' usual MO when he wants to manipulate someone without them realizing. Also, Karim's character arc in season 5+6 of trying and failing to weaponize the very embodiment of Sunfire supremacy to restore his imagined glorious past loses so much of its impact if it failed because Aaravos gave Sol Regem bad directions instead of Karim completely misjudging Sol Regem's priorities and who he sees as "our enemies".

(a mistake he would later make again with Aaravos, with fatal results)

Also, I don't think Sol Regem needed Pharros to guide him towards Katolis. He may be blind but a guy connected to the sun should know East/West like the back of his claws and he can probably smell large groups of humans from the air. Aaravos didn't have to do a thing as Pharros for Sol Regem to take the first opportunity to fly straight at the nearest human population-center from his lair, which happens to be Katolis.

Obviously Aaravos possessing Pharros during the attack and smiling suggests he planned for it and I hate that they did that, but keep in mind that Aaravos plans are built on contingencies and opportunism, not perfect foresight. He didn't plan any step of Karim's folly with Sol Regem, but he had a front-row seat to it happening and could see where it was going from the start because he understands Sol Regem better than Karim could ever hope to. I doubt Aaravos even could have done anything about it other than maybe warn Viren not to go to Katolis, but he is also not above using a situation to further his goals so Sol Regem putting himself in the perfect position for Aaravos to finish him off in the most cruel way possible for some sweet revenge? Perfect. The fact that Viren dying also ends up serving him by manipulating Claudia (even though that later ends and they become true partners in crime) is just another thing he takes advantage of, not something he caused.

But the biggest reason why I think this makes the most sense is that the relationship between Claudia and Aaravos is so much more nuanced when there isn't this huge Achilles-heel in it that can make her turn on him for cheap drama. I can't even imagine how it would come up since literally no one has any hope of figuring out how Aaravos could possibly be involved with Viren's death. The only way they could have that happen and make narrative sense is if Aaravos confesses it to Claudia completely unprompted. Maybe as a way of driving her away if he thinks it will save her?

Unless that happens I chose to think Aaravos bears no responsibility for Viren's second death, even if he did use it for his own goals.

Do they know?

Does Claudia know that Rayla was the one who killed Viren the first time?

Does Claudia know that at the battle of the Storm Spire she could have killed Soren when throwing Noctu Igne at the sunfire army?

Does Claudia know that Aaravos can straight-up possess dark mages?

Does anyone know that Aaravos was behind Sol Regem's attack on Katolis and Viren's second death? (Claudia wouldn't be happy about that!)

Does the Dragang know about Leola and the Cosmic Council?

Still so much fascinating potential for juicy revelations!

[sapphire-draw]

Now that I've got a new phone I guess I'll have to pick a new background image...? Haven't touched it in 2 years...

*sigh*

Sorry Shadow, you've been dethroned.

[selfinflictedgunshotwound]

sorry for only saying this type of shit lately but i kinda wanna drive a car straight into a brick wall at the highest speed possible

[crystalkitty1220]

Man I wonder where the leader of the fear realm could've gone, it's alMOST LIKE NEVIN HAS AN