#but there are some things that he will still take for granted

[gojosprettyprincess]

˖ ࣪⭑ BEING NEEDY AND WAKING TOJI AT NIGHT <3

Tw - slight somno in the beginning, kinda mean toji. Not proofread as always.

It’s what, 1 in the morning? And he’s suddenly jolted awake, panting. His broad chest is glistening with sweat and his eyes are all blurry and tired. He had to go to bed earlier than usual because he has to be up around 4 am to get a head start on his new mission in the morning.

But you’ve been abruptly woken up from a wet dream— needy, aching, and desperate for some relief that only Toji could grant you. Your fingers moved instinctively, teasing your clit and dipping them in your drooling hole, searching for that familiar wave of pleasure but it just wasn’t enough.

It didn’t feel nearly as good as when Toji’s cock is stretching you open and ruining you. But then you remembered he was lying right there beside you so why not???

He lets out a deep groan from the feeling of your cunt suddenly fluttering around him as you sink down on his length. Your warm, wet cunt squeezing him in a way that yanks him out of his half-asleep state. His brow furrows together, lips parting as he grunts, still surprised and dazed.

“The fuck…?” His voice is hoarse, thick with exhaustion but there’s no real bite to it— just confusion as his calloused hands instinctively find your hips, holding you firmly in place. His fingers twitch like he’s debating whether to stop you or help you.

“Toji”, you whine softly, slowly rolling your hips. Your hands rest on his chest, feeling the heat of his skin under your fingertips. “Need you so bad”.

He sighs, head lolling back against the pillow. “You gotta be kiddin’ me”, he mutters, voice still laced with sleep. He’s so fucking tired. He should be scolding you and flipping you over, making you wait till morning like a bratty slut like you deserve. But the way your tight little cunt clenches around him, sucking him in deeper, quickly made his body betray him. His fat cock twitches inside you, growing fully hard and stiff despite his obvious exhaustion.

“Fucking horny slut”, he grunts, rubbing a rough palm down his face before roughly gripping your hip. His other hand slides up your plushy thigh, fingers digging into the soft flesh. “Can’t even let me sleep in peace, huh?”.

You swiftly shake your head, biting your lips and bracing your hands against his big chest as you rock against him, dragging his cock against every sensitive spot inside you.

“M’sorry, I tried” you admit breathlessly, cheeks flushed. “But my fingers weren’t enough”.

Toji exhales sharply through his nose. You’re gonna fucking kill him one day, he swears. He slides a hand up your back, forcefully pressing you down against his muscular chest, making you gasp as your nipples graze against his warm skin frictionally.

“Greedy fucking thing” he murmurs, lips brushing against your temple. “You wanna get fucked that bad huh? How bout you do the work then”.

His hands leave your hips as he leans back, resting his arms behind his head like he’s getting comfortable. A smirk tugs at his lips despite the sleepiness in his eyes.

“Go on, baby. Ride me since you’re so fucking eager.”

You wanted to protest, whine like a baby, and tell him he’s being too mean but yet you're rolling your hips on top of him— bouncing slowly at first, dragging his thick cock in and out of your soaked pussy, savoring the delicious stretch that’s he’s creating.

He lowly hisses, sharp jaw clenching as he watches you use him for your own pleasure as if he’s a fucking human dildo. Your little whimpers had his veiny cock pulsing inside you because of how cute you sound.

But soon, your desperation takes over. You grind down harder and faster. Your pathetic moans growing louder as you shamelessly chase your high. Toji watches through hooded eyes, groaning low in his throat.

“Tch. Look at you,” he rasps, gripping your waist when you start to tremble and your thrusts get sloppy. “So fucking dumb and desperate. Can’t even wait till morning for some fucking cock”.

You let out a choked moan as he suddenly thrusts up into your hole, meeting your sloppy movements. The force knocks the air from your lungs, your fingers involuntarily digging into his pecs.

“Toji—!”

He grins lazily, voice thick with amusement and lust. “Shit, if you’re gonna fucking wake me up dead at night like this, might as well make it worth it for myself, right?”.

And that’s all it takes, his exhaustion is suddenly forgotten as he grabs the fat of your ass, fucking up into you with fast, deep strokes that have you seeing stars.

Your moans grow louder, pitchy, and more desperate as Toji's thrusts overpower yours. The punishing abuse of his mean cock bullying your hole has tears welling up in your eyes from how intense it is. He’s dragging his shaft along your compressed walls in a way that has you trembling.

Your fingers claw at his chest. Legs shaking as you struggle to try to keep up.

“You wanted this so fucking badly, yeah?” he taunts. “Fucking yourself on my cock like some needy little whore while I’m sleeping— now look at you”.

You whimper, trying to move your hips faster but his grip tightens on your waist, holding you still. A low whine leaves your lips, frustration bubbling up when you realize he’s stopped letting you move altogether.

“Tojiii” you mewl, trying to push against his firm hold.

“What?” he mockingly drawls, smirking up at you menacingly, eyes heavy-lidded. “Something wrong?”.

You huff in frustration, glaring down at him with annoyance. “Let me move,” you demand, squirming in his tight grasp.

Toji purposely clicks his tongue, eyes darkening as his smirk widens. “Oh, so now you think you’re the fucking one in charge here, huh? Do I need to remind you of your place? Slut”.

Before you can even respond, he’s manhandling you onto your back in one swift motion, knocking the breath from your lungs. A gasp rips from your throat as he presses you into the mattress, slotting himself between your trembling legs. His heavy cock is still buried deep inside you, and the new angle has you crying out.

“You woke me up”, he irritatedly mutters, pressing his full weight down on you, completely trapping you beneath him. “Dragged me outta a damn good sleep cause you can’t stop fucking thinking about dick.” His tone is low, almost scolding as his lips brush against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

His big hand wraps around your throat— not squeezing, just resting there. Seems to be his reminder of who’s in control. His other hand grips your thigh, hiking it up higher around his waist before he pulls his hips back and rudely slams into you in a harsh motion.

A choked sob leaves your lips as he sets a brutal pace, fucking into you with deep, deliberate thrusts. His cock stretches you open, hitting that spot inside you that has your toes curling against his huge back.

“Toji— fuck, s’too much”.

“Oh, so now it’s too much?” he scoffs, his grip on your throat tightening just slightly, enough to have your head spinning. “That’s funny, ‘cause a minute ago you couldn’t get enough. So needy and desperate to have your pussy stuffed and fucked like some horny bitch in heat. What happened, baby?”.

You’re barely able to answer, your mind going hazy from the way he’s cruelly pounding into you. From the way his lengthy cock drags and throbs along your sensitive walls, making you a pathetic mess beneath him.

“You wanna act like a spoiled little brat?” he growls, his teeth grazing the shell of your ear. “Fine. But you don’t get to tap out on me now.”

He reaches between you, long fingers finding your swollen clit, rubbing tight circles that make you jolt and quiver beneath him. Your body’s already overwhelmed, teetering on the edge and oh he knows it.

“That’s it”, he mutters, watching your face contort in pleasure. “Cum for me, baby. Cum on my cock like the fucking slut you are”.

His words pushed you over the edge. Your whole body tenses as your orgasm crashes over you, your walls squeezing his cock in rhythmic little pulses. You sob his name, gripping his beefy arms, nails digging into his skin as the pleasure flows through you.

Toji groans at the warm feeling, his brutal thrusts growing sloppier as he quickly chases his own release. He presses his sweaty forehead against yours, loudly panting. “Fuck— gonna fill you up, baby. Gonna make sure you remember who this pretty fucking pussy belongs to”.

With one last deep thrust, he buries himself to the hilt, groaning as he spills everything inside you. His warm seed completely flooding your overstimulated walls. He stays there for a moment, catching his breath before he finally pulls out, watching the way his milky cum slowly drips out from your swollen, used cunt.

You’re completely gone, body trembling, eyes hazy and filled with lust. Toji chuckles at your fucked out state, pressing a lazy kiss to your forehead. He always takes pleasure seeing you like this, knowing that he’s the reason why.

“Next time”, he murmurs, brushing his fingers through your messy hair to move them away from your face, “wake your old man up at a decent hour, yeah?”.

But even as he says that he’s already pulling you close, letting you bury your warm face in his chest. His rough hand rubbing slow circles on your back as you both drift off once again because despite all his old man grumbling, you both know he’d definitely let you do it again.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Brian Barrett at Wired (02.27.2025):

If you’ve felt overwhelmed by all the DOGE news, you’re not alone. You’d need too much cork board and yarn to keep track of which agencies it has occupied by now, much less what it’s doing there. Here’s a simple rubric, though, to help contextualize the DOGE updates you do have time and energy to process: It’s worse than you think. DOGE is hard to keep track of. This is by design; the only information about the group outside of its own mistake-ridden ledger of “savings” comes from media reports. So much for being “maximally transparent,” as Elon Musk has promised. The blurriness is also partly a function of the speed and breadth with which DOGE has operated. Keeping track of the destruction is like counting individual bricks scattered around a demolition site.

You may be aware, for instance, that a 19-year-old who goes by “Big Balls” online plays some role in all this. Seems bad. But you may have missed that Edward Coristine has since been installed at the nation’s top cybersecurity agency. And the State Department and the Small Business Administration. And he has a Department of Homeland Security email address and, by the way, also had a recent side gig selling AI Discord bots to Russians. See? Worse than you think. [...] Similarly, you’ve likely heard that the United States Agency for International Development has been gutted and the Consumer Financial Protection Bureau has been put on ice. All true, all bad. But here’s what that means in practice: Fewer people globally have access to vaccines than they did a month ago. More babies are being born with HIV/AIDS. From here on out, anyone who gets ripped off by payday loan companies—or, say, social media platforms moonlighting as payments services—has lost their most capable defender. Keep going. The thousands of so-called probationary employees DOGE has fired included a significant number of experienced workers who had just been promoted or transferred. National Science Foundation staffing cuts and proposed National Institutes of Health grant limits will combine to kneecap scientific research in the United States for a generation. Terminations at the US Department of Agriculture have sent programs designed to help farmers into disarray. On Wednesday, the Food and Drug Administration canceled a meeting that would have given guidance on this year’s flu vaccine composition. It hasn’t been rescheduled.

Don’t care about science or vaccines? The Social Security Administration is reportedly going to cut its staff in half. The Department of Housing and Urban Development is going to be cut by as much as 84 percent. Hundreds of workers who keep the power grid humming in the Pacific Northwest were fired before a scramble to rehire a few of them. The National Parks Service, the Internal Revenue Service, all hit hard. So don’t make any long-term bets on getting your checks on time, keeping your lights on, buying a home for the first time, or enjoying Yosemite. Don’t assume all the things that work now will still work tomorrow.

Speaking of which, let’s not forget that DOGE has fired people working to prevent bird flu and to safeguard the US nuclear arsenal. (The problem with throwing a chainsaw around is that you don’t make clean cuts.) The agencies in question have reportedly tried to hire those workers back. Fine. But even if they’re able to, the long-term question that hasn’t been answered yet is, Who would stay? Who would work under a regime so cocksure and incompetent that it would mistakenly fire the only handful of people who actually know how to take care of the nukes? According to a recent report from The Bulwark, that brain drain is already underway. And this is all before the real reductions in force begin, mass purges of civil servants that will soon be conducted, it seems, with an assist from DOGE-modified, automated software. The US government is about to lose decades of institutional knowledge across who knows how many agencies, including specialists that aren’t readily replaced by loyalists.

Wired has a solid article on how bad the DOGE-ificiation of government has gotten.

[v4mpire45]

Oh, dear diary — K. Bakugo

currently playing ♫︎ bubblegum b*tch — MARINA

pairing: Katsuki Bakugo x Female reader

synopsis: For a year, you write diary entries about a certain fiery blonde.

April 7th, 2089

First day at U.A. High. It’s hard to believe I’m finally here. The whole place is overwhelming, huge campus, crazy architecture, and don’t even get me started on the students. But I guess that’s to be expected when you’re going to the top hero school in the country.

I didn’t expect to meet someone like him so soon, though.

We were doing some sort of introduction thing, and then this guy with spiky blonde hair, Bakugo, I think he’s called started yelling at everyone like he owned the place. At first, I thought he was some kind of teacher with how intense he was.

But no, it turns out he’s a student. Great. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone with such an... explosive personality.

I’m not sure how to feel about him yet. But I can tell he doesn’t take anyone lightly.

April 20th, 2089

Hey, I haven't written in here in a while. U.A. takes up a lot of time. Anyhow, things have been going well. I've made some great friends. I had a conversation with that Bakugo kid. Well, not really he told me to move 'cause I was being too slow?? But it's something, I guess. I don’t get him. He’s so intense and always so grumpy, it’s like he’s constantly mad at everyone. But I’ve noticed that when he does talk to people, it’s always like he’s trying to be superior.

Honestly, it's kind of funny. But it's also kind of annoying.

I really don’t get why he’s like that. It makes it hard to even have a proper conversation with him. He’s just… loud. I’m gonna try not to let it get to me, though. Maybe he’ll calm down eventually.

July 21st, 2089

Okay, so things are getting a little better with Bakugo. It's not like we’re friends or anything, but he doesn’t snap at me as much when we cross paths. In fact, he even said "good job" after one of our training exercises. Granted, it was barely audible, and he quickly followed it up with "but don’t get cocky," but still. It felt... different.

The summer’s been intense. U.A. is no joke, and I’ve definitely been pushed harder than I ever have been before.

But there’s something kind of inspiring about seeing Bakugo in action. He works so hard, no matter what. It’s almost like he’s always on a mission, like there’s something he’s trying to prove to everyone. He pushes himself to the limit, and I guess I can respect that.

But, there’s still that edge to him, that explosiveness. I’m not sure how to get past that or if I even want to. He’s definitely a force to be reckoned with, that’s for sure.

August 3rd, 2089

I didn’t expect Bakugo to be so... well, helpful? It was during our summer training camp (which was a horrible experience btw), and I was struggling with my technique. I thought I’d just tough it out and keep going, but Bakugo actually stopped what he was doing and gave me a few pointers. He was as blunt as always, saying stuff like, "You’re doing it wrong, fix it," but I don’t know. It was kind of nice. It felt like, for a second, he actually cared about how I was doing. And I have to admit, I don’t hate that feeling.

I still don’t know what to make of him. One minute he’s being a total jerk, and the next, he’s actually being decent. I can’t figure him out. But I guess that’s part of the appeal, right?

September 17th, 2089

Okay, I’m starting to think that Bakugo isn’t as bad as I originally thought. It’s not like we’re friends yet or anything, but I’ve noticed some small changes. During one of our sparring sessions, he actually took a moment to check if I was okay after I took a hit. No yelling, no insults, just… concern? It was so strange coming from him.

Maybe I’ve been too hard on him. I mean, I’m not saying he’s suddenly my best friend or anything, but I’ve started to understand that he’s just intense because he cares. He doesn’t show it the way most people do, but I think he just wants to make sure everyone’s pushing themselves to be the best they can be.

I don’t know… Maybe I’m starting to see him in a different light.

October 31st, 2089

It’s Halloween, and for some reason, Bakugo is actually acting... well, kind of normal? I mean, he’s still grumpy, but he didn’t yell at anyone for their costumes, which is surprising considering how much he complains about everything. I ended up in a game of spin the bottle at a party, and when the bottle landed on me and Bakugo, I swear, I saw the smallest blush on his face.

Of course, he immediately started grumbling, but I could tell he wasn’t as annoyed as usual.

He didn’t even comment on my Puss in Boots costume, which was honestly a little disappointing. But still, there was something about his reaction that made me think maybe he doesn’t mind me as much as he acts like.

December 25th, 2089

Christmas at U.A. wasn’t what I expected. Everyone was so cheerful, and there were so many gifts exchanged. But what really stood out was something small that Bakugo did. He gave me a little gift, nothing big, just a small pendant with a flame on it.

It was kind of like his quirk, but in a subtle way. He didn’t say much about it, just muttered something about not wanting to hear me complain.

But that was it, and honestly, it felt... special. I think he actually cares. Not that he’d admit it, of course, but it’s the little things.

February 14th, 2090

I think I’m starting to fall for him. I hate how cliché that sounds, but honestly, I really think I am. It’s been a few months now, and Bakugo... he’s just different.

Not in a bad way, but he’s grown on me. His brashness, his unwavering determination, the way he always pushes himself to be better, it's actually kind of inspiring.

And I can't deny it anymore, I care about him. More than I should, maybe. I find myself noticing the little things he does when he thinks no one’s paying attention. Like how he pulls his punches during sparring, making sure no one gets hurt.

Or how he keeps an eye on the rest of the class, even if he’d never admit it.

I don’t really know what to do about it. Maybe I’m just confused.

I used to write in this diary to talk about my day, to rant or say something random. But looking back at my entries, it’s all about him. I can’t even remember the last time I wrote anything that didn’t have to do with Bakugo, or Katsuki, as I call him now.

We’ve been on a first-name basis for a while now, and every time I say his name, my heart skips.

March 1st, 2090

So, it happened. I finally did it. I confronted Bakugo about it. The way I feel, I mean. It wasn’t as dramatic as I thought it would be. I just kind of pulled him aside, and before he could yell at me for something, I blurted out, “I think I’m in love with you, you idiot.”

He froze, stared at me, and then said, “Tch, you’re an idiot.”

But... he didn’t walk away. He didn’t leave me standing there, confused and embarrassed.

Instead, he stepped closer, grabbed my hand, and in the softest voice I’ve ever heard from him, he said, “You’re not the only one, dumbass.”

And just like that, he kissed me, he actually kissed me!

We’re still figuring things out, but I’m happy.

Really happy.

I never expected Bakugo to feel the same, but I guess I was wrong.

Maybe we weren't so different after all.

© 2025 v4mpire45 — All rights reserved. Please don't post my work as your own on any other sites.

[forestclan-clangen]

MOON 9 (Part 1)

<< FIRST | < PREVIOUS |

Barleywave finds the rogue he sired Warblerkit with while marking the border. He tells her the truth of what happened to Warblerkit. Barleywave apologizes, and said he should have never hurt them like this. After a long talk clearing up misunderstandings of Clan life and what ForestClan wishes to be, she agrees to join - for now. River decides to take on a clan name with the first snowfall that gracefully falls around them: Riversnow.

(Barleywave, warrior, male, 38 moons) (Riversnow, warrior, female, 58 moons)

---

Barleywave felt stars-damned cold. Leafbare had obviously set, with the Clan waking up to a thin layer of ice in their clean water bowls. It hadn't snowed yet, but everyone could sense that it was about to very soon - especially with the sky painted pale grey, masking the sun. Cats were rummaging around camp, trying to huddle near the cooking fire or top their nests with tanned pelts. Nobody would want to go on patrol once the snow started, which is why he volunteered to go check the border.

He had to get approval from Iciclepool to do it, as Redstar was still acting jumpy and paranoid about anyone leaving camp - especially after what happened to Shiverpaw and Tree the moon prior. Part of him wanted to shake Redstar and tell her that, StarClan's kits, Tree just took down a Woodcrawler, he thinks the Clan will be fine as long as Tree's given an apprentice and starts teaching the rest of them how to do that. He couldn't blame her, though - Redstar was getting cabin fever and kept telling clanmates that she hated being confined to camp. She felt useless, like she was wasting her time recovering instead of being out in the woods, trying to feed them.

Barleywave was glad that Hopechase did her signature "bullying-into-being-better" tactic, redirecting her to teach Perchkit and Branchkit about ForestClan's history. She's probably the only one who could get away with doing that to Redstar, too.

So now, here he was. Patrolling the border by himself, re-marking necessary points. His constant walking warmed his pelt, granting him some comfort. For a moment, Barleywave allowed his mind to wander.

It was…about a year now, wasn't it? Not quite. It was getting there - once leafbare was over. He met…her. And by extension, eventually Warblerkit.

Barleywave's tail lowered as he allowed the memory to wander. He didn't feel happy about it. But he was alone. No one would see him vulnerable here. Maybe this would be good practice. To confront his feelings, and all that. When else could he do it?

He regrets how they parted. He really did. They were just stressed and trying to find comfort in a dire world. He was also younger, and incredibly stupid. Barleywave scowled as he remembered his younger self's brain turning to useless muck at a pretty she-cat flirting with him. Great StarClan, he was so, so mouse-brained. At least his mouse-brained self had the common sense to feel guilty and responsible when she appeared on their territory two weeks later, pregnant, wild-eyed and gripping on a freshly-killed gopher like it was her lifeline.

He wished he did better. Yes, she didn't want to join the Clan. Yes, he hunted for her - at least, after Redstar caught him taking from the Clan's kill pile - and made sure she was safe under the deck of a Twoleg cabin. But StarClan, he would do anything to erase the image of her standing at the border, holding Warblerkit in her mouth. Barleywave saw how large she was during her pregnancy. She had not borne just a singular kit. But he saw the bruises on her face, the blood coming from her claws snagged with roots, and the dead, distant expression on her face.

He wished he did better. Said something. Asked her to come with him. Instead he asked what the kit's name was, like a frog-brained fool. She said it didn't matter, then turned to leave.

The last thing he said was, "Warbler. His…his name is Warblerkit."

She only twitched her ear once before disappearing.

He wished he did better.

Barleywave sighed deeply, allowing the cold air to fill his lungs and drag him out of his memory. Yep. Feelings still really sucked. Welp, time to kick the begging fish back down into the pond, hunt that some other time. And by some other time, he meant never. Feelings are terrible and he's not doing that again. Back to patrolling, like a normal tom. Yep. Border patrolling, definitely not having a guilt trip. Plus, he's overdue to check his surroundings; the woods were dangerous.

He made his routine awareness check, scenting the air for anything suspicious.

Barleywave paused. Then, his eyes widened and his fur bristled.

You know, he almost wished he smelled a Woodcrawler. Not because he preferred death, but because at least he knew what to do with a Woodcrawler. He would run away and sound the alarm for the camp. Maybe Tree would reveal they were actually a mountain lion, or some fox-dunged thing and would toss it into the lake.

But no. He had to smell her.

Oh StarClan no, he just finished hating himself for five minutes. Why? Why did the universe conspire to make him feel awful?

Barleywave looked across the border, into a set of twig-like bushes. Maybe that was a good spot to hide during any other season, or if it was snowing, but this cat's pelt was…was…

Still as light and flowing as he remembered. A part of him hoped it wasn't her.

"...River?" he meowed. His voice was strained.

There was a tense silence before a cream and white pelt slowly rose and stalked out of the twigs. Their steps were gentle, but calculated, like an owl stalking a mouse from the treetops. Barleywave blinked as he saw the cat's pale blue eyes, and cautious expression.

"...Barley," she greeted simply.

Barleywave froze as he watched River approach the border, and then slowly sit at the threshold, her gaze unwavering. A breeze hissed through the forest, blowing the fur on their pelts gently.

Her eyes were different. They didn't have the spark of curiosity, joy or amusement he remembered. He remembered offering her a strip of jerky once. She looked offended that he'd offer her something so meager, and it took some coaxing, but he remembered how her pupils dilated with pleasant surprise.

Now, her eyes held the same pain he saw the day he took their kit. It was dulled. But it was still there.

Barleywave closed his eyes and sighed deeply. Okay. Okay. Fine. He said he wished he could've done better. Maybe this was his chance.

"...Fancy seeing you here again," he said as he sat down, curling his tail around his paws.

River blinked slowly. She tore her gaze from him and stared at her paws. "I was passing through."

"I hope so. The woods are…"

Barleywave cut his sentence short as he saw River's neck fur rise. He shook his head. "N-Nevermind." He stared at the floor in shame. "I apologize."

Barleywave never knew there was such a thing as a 'sad silence'. But that's the only way he could describe how it felt, sitting on the other side of the border from her.

"...How's Warbler?" River finally asked. She raised her head, her pale blue eyes carrying an unknown feeling.

Oh no.

Barleywave didn't look up from the floor. But somehow, he had the feeling that River's ears were slowly folding at his perpetual silence. He had to say something. He could lie? No. It's too late. He was quiet for too long. The truth? No. She couldn't know. Not that her last kit was murdered by the same things that took his siblings. Warblerkit, why? Why did he try to comfort Olive? Why was he such a mouse-brained kit? A mouse-brained, brave, devoted kit?

The grief he thought he buried in his work all those moons ago resurfaced. His ears folded back and he closed his eyes. He couldn't be better. He couldn't look at her.

"Barleywave, what happened to my son?" River's voice was tight with fear. "To our son?" A surge of anger.

Barleywave opened his mouth, desperate for anything to come out. But he froze.

"You sent him to die." Her voice was seething with rage, her cyan blue eyes like frozen daggers. "You sent him to die, didn't you?"

Barleywave's eyes shot wide open. Did - oh StarClan, did River think they still did apprentice trials?!

She stood up, her claws unsheathed. "You…Clan cats and your monstrous, hateful - "

"No!" he yowled. He saw River inch back. He continued rapidly. "No, StarClan, no! River, I - we don't do apprentice trials! We overthrew the leader that did them specifically because they were cruel!" The dark tom scrambled to his feet. "I'd have brought him to the Twoleg Camp if Redstar dared to do otherwise!"

River glared at Barleywave, her eyes scanning him for deceit. Then, her fur flattened and her expression faltered. It was like prey she had just stalked vanished from under her.

"...What?" she squeaked.

Barleywave saw the pleading desperation and hurt in her eyes. Stars, he - he couldn't lie to her. He wouldn't. That was cruel. She couldn't feel worse than she already did, thinking that he willingly sent their son to die. The truth…the truth had to be better than that. Right?

He…he could do this. He had to talk about this. He had to be better. This was going to hurt, so bad. But he had to. "Last greenleaf. There was…a horrible storm."

River nodded. Wherever she was, the storm must've hit her too.

Barleywave swallowed. "We…we were taking care of a former loner. Her back was broken by a Twoleg vehicle. And she was pregnant."

River's expression soured with pain. Sympathy brimmed in her eyes.

"She…was not in a good headspace. She was afraid, and despairing. Warblerkit…he said that he'd fight off any monster that tried to bother her."

"No," River's fur bristled again.

"The storm hit. It hit hard. She was going into labor and…I couldn't find him. Redstar told me to take shelter, and she'd look for him. He was with Olive - the…the pregnant molly. They couldn't move him in that weather. We thought the…things wouldn't dare cross the camp in that weather, with the lightning and thunder. I was wrong. The last thing I saw was one of them wrapped around one of Olive's kits, and Warblerkit…"

"Barley."

"Warblerkit tried to save it."

That's all he could bear to muster. And from River's silence, that was all that was needed.

The two stood staring at each other in stunned, empty silence. The world around them continued, uncaring of their grief. Snowflakes started to fall from the sky and melt as they hit the ground. Barleywave felt the snow dapple his fur. He knew it would become a thin layer soon enough.

"...I'm sorry, River," he said. "It's all my fault. I never should have hurt you like this."

River sat back down and stared into space. She looked tired; exhausted and preparing to react a certain way - perhaps reciting a script in her head this entire time, and he just took that script and tossed it.

River shook her head. Quietly, she uttered. "Fuck." After a few more moments, she yowled, "FUCK!" She threw her head back and stared at the sky, laughing with exasperation. "Fucking god - damn it."

Barleywave had no idea what she just said - expletives he never heard before. Their tone got the point across.

River sighed heavily, still staring at the sky. "...How long ago did you stop tossing kits at the woods?" she asked.

Morbid. But not incorrect. Barleywave shook himself out a bit, removing the snowflakes from his pelt. "Let's see…uh…I guess we killed Lakestar last…stars, I guess mid-leafbare. So…"

"A year," River breathed. "You stopped being cultists a year ago."

"Cultists? Wait," Barleywave's hazel eyes widened. "That's how outsiders see ForestClan?"

"Well, yeah. You lived in…there," River gestured to the forest behind him. "...Word got around. Kits being thrown out of the camp at six moons old, left to fend for themselves overnight. Reports of angry screaming from some…crazy witch. Always making some...warning call or a threat. Sometimes it could be heard across the border. 'Go then, and feed the woods.'"

Barleywave's heart stopped and the hairs on his back rose.

Any uncomfortable emotion that rippled was chased by a massive shadow that breached the surface and swallowed him whole.

The suppressed memory played out in segmented images. A golden and brown cat, mouth open wide like a roaring lion. Green, poison-touched eyes. Screeching. Pointing at the gate. Towering over a cat that shrunk from her gaze. He couldn't remember the cat. They had a name. They had a color, a face, a shape. He couldn't piece it together. They had a name. He couldn't remember. He only saw the gold cat.

Cats recoiled with tails between their legs. They hid behind each other. Kits hid under their mothers. Adults avoided looking at the scene.

Another memory. The gold cat grabbed something in its jaws and threw it over the camp gates. He couldn't remember it. Didn't want to remember it. Only caterwauling and screeching remained etched. Complete silence when something knocked at the gate. Once. Twice. Three times. Repeatedly. More insistent. Violently demanding. The ground shook. His eyes burned. Something called for help. Over and over, the exact same way, until their voice gave out.

"Barleywave, are you still listening?"

He blinked. River had tilted her head at him.

He tore himself out of the belly of the memory and threw its remains in a pit. He felt disgusted. Wrong.

"...Barley?" River asked again. She sounded concerned.

He bottled everything up.

"...We're not about that." He said immediately. "We're just trying to live. Trying to keep the memory of people who were here before us alive. I understand how, uh," he swallowed. It was a name. It was just a name. "How Lakestar ruined all that, though." Barleywave looked at her sadly. "That's why you kept shutting down the idea of joining ForestClan, isn't it?"

"Yes. And now you've fucked up everything and made this so much more complicated," she hissed, her tail thrashing. She stopped, her eyes wavering with pain. "...I regret what I did last greenleaf. I left him in despair. Nothing mattered to me then. But as the moons past, I...I kept thinking about him. About what I did, leaving him to...to a cult, I thought."

Barleywave let out the start of a sympathetic purr, but stopped hesitantly. He didn't want to overstep. River continued. "...I came back, figuring that if Warblerkit was still alive, then I'd join ForestClan. Because screw it, I'm wandering around doing nothing with myself, so sure, let's join the stupid cult. If he wasn't alive, then I'd claw your eyes out, call you a stupid cult and that was that. But my kit's dead, and...not because of the stupid cult."

Barleywave let out a dry, humourless laugh. He saw the absurdity. "I mean, you can still do that."

"What, claw your eyes out?"

"If that'll make you feel better, sure. But I meant joining ForestClan. Not that I'd blame you for not wanting to," Barleywave added hastily when River gave him a weird look. Actually, that look was justified. What was he doing? "I mean, I'd get it. But I'm sure we'd be happy to have you. We have shelter, we keep ourselves warm and well fed. We're not free of danger - nowhere is. But you wouldn't have to keep wandering in harsh seasons. And we do have some methods to ward off the things in the forest."

River looked at him skeptically. Then, her eyes narrowed and her ears flattened. "Barleywave, I'm not becoming your mate."

"Wha - now, wait, hold on, where did I say I wanted a mate?" Barleywave was genuinely taken aback by this - what on earth gave her that idea?

River raised an eyebrow. "You're…not suggesting that?"

"No?" His face scrunched in confusion.

"What tom offers a molly shelter and safety from the weather and isn't trying to woo them?" she hissed, skeptical.

"First, keep your fur on, second, I'm not trying to woo you!" Barleywave retorted, his tail twitching. "I mean it! There's a small colony of us, our camp is surrounded by walls made of pine trees and sharp sticks. We look out for each other, kits and queens eat first, and we collectively hunt for food for a better chance at success. Like, yes, there's food and shelter, how else should I describe it?"

"You're seriously asking me to join ForestClan, no strings attached? I can just do that?"

"Yes? I mean, minus the fact that you're now a part of a cult in the woods, I guess," Barleywave joked.

River let out a huff. "Oh, yes. I guess now I'll have to add a suffix to my name too, enforced by your cult leader."

"Actually, that's not necessary. It's customary for kits and apprentices, but we don't really do that if an adult doesn't want to."

"...Really?"

"We have cats named Olive and Tree in our Clan. They're former outsiders who liked their names and wanted to keep them as they were." Barleywave shrugged.

"What if I…don't end up liking it there?" River's tail tapped on the ground. "Can I leave?"

"We'd be sad to see you go, but yeah, you can. Even if you were born to the clan, you can leave. Look, contrary to popular belief, ForestClan isn't a cult. Or…fine, maybe it was, under her. I don't know." Barleywave sighed. "But…ever since Lakestar died, we really are trying to be something else. Something better. Like…think of it like a warm shelter in the middle of a really bad winter. Others also sought shelter, and there's people still wanting to come in, or pass through. So, you help each other cause the world outside sucks, yannow? A…A gentler place. To help whoever needs it. Cause the woods suck, sure. But there's still good things out there, sometimes."

River stared out into the woods behind the dark tom. She flicked her tail pensively.

Barleywave saw her hesitation, and accepted that she might need time to choose. But, even then, he felt obligated to tell her one last thing. He hadn't had the courage to see it himself yet, even after all this time, but… "Can I at least bring you to his gravestone?"

River's tail froze mid-motion. Her voice was quiet. "...You make graves for them?"

"Yeah. Always."

River's gaze floated towards the side. She stared at the thin layers of snow that started to accumulate on the cold foliage around them.

"...Okay," she said quietly. "Take me there."

The tom made a small nod, then stood back up and turned to leave. When he turned to see River stepping over the border, she froze and stared around her for a bit.

"You alright?"

"River...snow."

Barleywave tilted his head at her.

"Riversnow. If you have to change my name."

"I already said we don't do that. Better question is, do you wanna do that?"

The cream and white she-cat paused. Her posture relaxed, as though she was enjoying the gentle snowflakes that graced the earth.

"I think I do." She glanced at the tom. "...Maybe. I'll keep you posted."

"Riversnow." He paused, then smiled, his whiskers twitching. "I like that one."

"It's not for you," she retorted.

"Nope, uh…nope. Totally your call."

"Absolutely," Riversnow declared, her chest puffed out. "Now, are you going to bring me to your cult or not?"

Barleywave laughed. But he obliged.

He was way overdue to be back from a simple border patrol anyway.

---

[NEW CLAN MATE ADDED]

<PREVIOUS | NEXT >

[azaharinflames]

"The issue, to say it bluntly, is that 806 felt like an AU, like some badly written one-shot that did not take into consideration anything that had happened before." - You always make such good points and I love reading your takes on things. Very well said that 8x06 seemed like an AU, and it would be so great if we could all forget about this stupid episode. It was so badly written in general. I still feel sorry for Lou getting blindsided by the breakup as well, and that they had to shoot the breakup scene before 8x05, where he portrayed the doting boyfriend so well.

Hi, Nonnie! This ask is so old, I'm so sorry for taking this long!

First of all, thank you! I'm glad whenever my word vomit makes sense lol.

Listen, I do try to be a bit lenient with this, but it's hard. I know Lou is a grown ass man and a very professional man at that, but my God, did I feel bad for him. Granted, at the end of the day, we simply do not know what happened. We weren't on set with him and we barely got any bts as it is. So we don't know what was said to him, and what he believed. But the feeling we all got based on his immediate interviews post-806 is that he'd been a bit blindsided by the whole thing, which did leave a sour taste in everyone's mouth. Not only did they mistreat Tommy in the series, but they weren't totally good to Lou either. And hey, he said it, and I agree - it's showbiz! But it doesn't mean it doesn't suck, either.

Like you mentioned, it does feel especially cruel to have him shoot that gut-wrenching break-up scene and then have him shoot 805, too. But boy, oh boy, did our boy deliver. He made everyone fall further in love with Tommy, as a character and as Buck's boyfriend (deranged fans notwithstanding), and honestly? I still don't know what the intent was behind 805 if it wasn't for the audience to truly fall in love with him and with the couple and to root for their reconciliation.

Just saying.

But overall, yeah. I fear sounding like a broken record, but 806 is such a bizarre episode overall. I don't know who was in the writers room but... my God. Even Madney's storyline left much to be desired. I think 806 is easily my most disliked episode in the series.

My inbox is open for ranting, venting, giving your opinion (unpopular or popular, I'm happy to receive and discuss both), and even confessions! Make sure to tell me if you do not want your ask posted though <3

Anon is back on btw! I'm a disaster human who turned it off a few weeks ago and forgot to turn it back on hehe

Take care <3

[habibisagi]

HAIIIIII i am taking a hiatus / lil break from the app !!!! ^>_<^

TLDR; swamped with school stuff, i want to write and finish my longfic and hope to have it ready to post by isagi's birthday [april 1st], + anxiety being on here no good ^_^

also, coincidentally, RAMADAN KAREEM!!! ‧₊˚ ☾. ⋅ i love you so much, please take care of yourself and your loved ones this month, as will i ^_^ <3

-> back to navi. ^¬‿¬^

ok first off peep the pic dude it's fucking frying me so bad KJHSDFJK i saw the cat with an apple on its head and went omg. what if i put a soccer ball instead. and then horrified isagi because the ball is stolen by the winner cat and he lost. ^¬‿¬^ i'm a genius i fear

anyway KJSDH OMG okay SO. this is my first hiatus YIPPEEE!!!! specifically, my first one since i got back on the app last year in may lol and before that i was gone for over a year (but that was unannounced like i just randomly disappeared KJHSDFK). cuz usually if i wanna be gone for a few days or take a little break i just don't get on tbh lmao like i don't need to make an announcement or say i'm taking a hiatus since it's no big deal!! especially since i'm not really actively posting writing or anything, so no real need for one.

however, for this one i am not too sure how long!! and so that's why i figured i would make one!! ;3c jic anyone was curious why the sudden disappearance ehe AND so i can like. force myself to be off here completely. like "girl you made a hiatus post now it would be embarrassing and bad to be on here still so shoo. and do your thing creature." but you will definitely see me back by april 1st ^_^ maybe earlier than that if i can get my shtufffff together quicker <3

and before you ask, no it is not because of ramadan! it's a pure coincidence actually, and it's making me smile and emotional a bit because ramadan is a month about forgiveness and taking care of yourself/sticking to yourself, among finding inner peace within yourself, so it was just meant to be and a sign for me to take time off <3

one of the first reasons is i'm behind on a lot of assignments rn and i have important deadlines coming up and so i need to get back on track for that, and the app is a huge blocker for me because i have 0 self-discipline v_v

the second is also another deadline but this one i wanna set for myself and not school related! and that is i'd like to focus and write my shoujo isagi fic and finish it while having fun at my own pace, and hopefully have it done by his birthday, which is april 1st!! >_< so omg exactly a month from now ehe (this part wasn't planned but the coincidence is bananas. truly a sign...). but yeah my adhd is poopoo farts and tumblr distracts me so much and i will have fun / even no fun on here for hours and get nothing done on what i actually wanna do </3 LOL. that is my shawty bae princess pookie pie boyfriend and i wanna focus on his fic and do something FOR ME for once :3!!!!! i wanna get so lost in the sauce as i write i forget i have tumblr and that i have to post it. that it gets done and i would be like "ohh i could def post this" NOT "omg i wanna finish this to post it". DOES THIS MAKE SENSE okay cool beans

the main part, however, is just some unexplained irrational anxiety i've been getting on here that makes me feel chronically online in a bad way and it hurts me LMAOOO. some interactions not seeming equally reciprocated and passive aggressive or even dry and then i feel isolated lol. even feeling like i'm being taken for granted. and I HATE THATTTTTTTTTTTTT booooo. i can be a deadbeat myself fs but i never actually ignore anyone and i am always interacting and putting in that effort and responding eventually and equally (off the inbox). and while no one is obligated to give it back or owes it (since DUH everyone has a life and stuff and no one owes you anything), as it's no one fault - it still stings a bit and i'm allowed to feel sad and pissy about it!!! v__v

(i'm not vaguing anyone specific btw, so really like. /nbhs ig i'm just saying in general this is how i've been feeling! and i'm valid for it ehe.)

yk that saying that's like "if they wanted to, they would"? i want to accept that ^_^ if someone wants to match my energy, interact in the way i do, they would. and if they don't they don't. BOO. i can't keep feeling upset about it. cuz like we are here having fun being silly about fictional characters at the end of the day, so truly it is not that serious LMFAOOO and maybe i am just being a wee bit dramatic, but my anxiety really is off the charts rn. so don't blame me ok.

you can always take time out of your day if you cared enough, and some just don't. and that's okay :3c!! when you give too much of yourself that is when you STOP and take a step back. and that is what i shall be doing ehe. not worth my time, not worth my energy.

i will be logging off completely and not checking notifs or the dash as soon as i post this >_> TIME AWAY WILL DO ME GOOD ONCE AGAIN. i won't even lurk or look up blogs to keep up or anything tbh because right now i just feel anxious and weird and i don't wanna be here >_< tumblr smelly and stinky right now i want me time

MUTUALS I WILL DEFINITELY STILL BE ON DISCORD IF YOU WANNA CHAT WITH ME BTW i am just getting off this app for a bit. I LOVE U i'm putting my discord in the tags :>

[disco-cola]

i'm so gonna rant about luigi now but something that has been on my mind for the past few days ever since reading the response letter (def his handwriting so i have no doubt) recently that the receiver has published - and whereas i know he should be granted at least SOME privacy and not every response letter has to be published, i think he himself is aware that this COULD happen when he chooses to respond, and in this case he might have counted on it - when he wrote how hard the solitary confinement was and worded it that he was "picked up at mcdonalds for the heinous crime of ordering a hashbrown." it really had me take a step back and re-evaluate the whole situation. like for one yeah i get it. i've been following the case since hour 0 as well, loved all the memes and tiktoks that came out between december 4 and december 9 of people completely denying their help to authorities and coming together even BEFORE he was arrested as a suspect cause even though i am not american i know about the fucked up healthcare system so i understood the reactions and supported it wholeheartedly. and when i first saw that mugshot i was also on my knees and yeah the looks and specificially the - alleged! - motivations to do something like this definitely played together and also had me thirsting over someone who usually wouldnt be in my realm of interest. but seriously what if it REALLY wasnt him and he was in the wrong place at the wrong time? he pleaded not guilty to the charges on december 23. i see why people have doubts about the arrest situation in altoona, pa and think evidence like the "manifesto" and even the gun could have been planted because authorities were under pressure after 5 days of not catching anyone. would my support stop? his disappearance and what he posted on social media like goodreads has totally backfired on him. but like just for my tumblr and instagram posts alone even *I* could be framed in a situation like that and i would have "motives." how horrifying must this entire ordeal be if you're accused and pre-convicted by several politicians and mainstream media and even some of your own supporters by always linking you to the crime and calling you the "patron saint of healthcare" and things like that. like HOW is he supposed to get a fair trial for which the main basis would be the presumption of innocence if even some supporters cant stop linking him to the crime and have made him into the poster boy for vigilante justice?

i get why memes and thirst traps are popular because i also have eyes and see, no matter if he did it or not, that he's conventionally attractive and some really ARE funny but at this point i cant laugh about many others at all anymore because it goes to show some people are so superficial and turn a real life person into a fictional character. like he's part of some viral netflix crime show you can just tune into when it's convenient. but like that man's day still has 24 hours even when he's not being photographed and going viral on social media and he's spending all of them incarcerated in awful conditions at the rathole that is MDC brooklyn for something he might not have even done. like i can only begin to imagine being in that situation and fearing i may never get out of there or get even unalived by the government and it gives me a panic attack just trying to imagine.

anyway what i wanna say is there (sadly) wont be jury nullification on the basis of "justified murder" cause brian thompson was a greedy corporate asshole who made millions as the CEO of a company that denied claims of the suffering and sick, the toxic system we are trapped in only plays in favor of criminals like donald trump who protect the fellow rich, BUT there might be the possibility of jury nullification on the basis of expressing and providing the reasons for REASONABLE DOUBT that he never was the shooter to begin with. and thats my point. if you wanna see luigi go free, give him the benefit of the doubt. YES the U.S. healthcare system is fucked up and we need to keep talking about that. but if you actually wanna see luigi go free start to separate the two topics and stop to inevitably link him to healthcare and in result the crime and start to point out his right to the presumption of innocence for the upcoming trials, federal and state alike. they WILL drag these out IMMENSELY. dont lose focus. and thats all i have to say about that.

[scribbledghost]

Ohhh you're so back!!!i was living on crumbsfinally some good content 🥺🌻

Would you please granted me with more Ivy (i feel like he has a very soft spot for reader but he doesn't show it) I 'm begging you. 🙏

Oh, he shows it.

You just have to know what to look for.

I think he's much like II in the sense that he's outwardly gruff most of the time, but it's just to veil how he really feels.

He'll find you in the library and suddenly you'll have a glass of water nudged into your face with a gruff "Y'haven't drank anything all day". He sounds cranky about having to bring you water, but if you look up at his face you'll notice how soft his eyes are. He won't stay long after you take the glass, instead opting to just run his knuckles over your cheek briefly before leaving again.

On the rare mornings where it's just the two of you in bed together, he'll get downright grumpy if you try to leave too soon for his liking. No matter what your excuse is, he'll just mumble a "too bad" and squeeze you against him tighter. If there's one thing you've learned about IV, it's that you don't get out of bed until he's ready for you to.

If you happen to catch him when he's alone and practicing for a ritual, you may even be lucky enough to have him offer to teach you to play a few tunes. Just... be sure to never let the others find out, because they'd never let it go. Absolutely no one else is ever allowed to touch IV's guitars. But you? You're different. Whether you already know how to play the instrument or not, he'll have you in front of him, with you between him and the guitar. IV will help guide your hands as he shows you how to play the new riff he just came up with.

If you wander into the kitchen late at night to look out over the back garden because you can't sleep, it's almost a given that IV will find you at some point. He'll almost always grumble about how you being awake keeps him awake, but he still never hesitates to gently wrap his arms around you from behind. He'll rest his head on your shoulder and start to gently sway you both back and forth for a bit before turning you around in his arms to dance with you properly.

It's usually in these moments - where the two of you are alone together, isolated and assured that none of the other vessels can tap into your mental connection in their sleep - that IV will catch your gaze in his. Once you're looking at him, you'll hear his voice in your mind:

Y'know I love you, right?

He doesn't say it out loud. He rarely does. But in these quiet moments, when no one else is around to hear or notice, he'll make sure you know.

[lockheed-martin-unofficial]

Starscream is given a bath, Part 6: (FINAL PART)

1038 words, and We! Are! Done! I would like to thank you all for reading along and supporting this, I had never expected it would get as much attention as it did when I decided to do it. Congratulations to you, specifically, for cleaning up Starscream!

Part 5: here

——————————————————————————

“It’s no problem.” The human replied, as if it truly wasn’t. Her clothing was visibly drenched in the water, and he silently cursed himself for being so inconsiderate. He was trying not to owe anything.

He truly didn’t take it for granted, he didn’t. A companion he could tolerate, one who did what he asked for some reason. Dropping her own things for his. Opening her dwelling up to him. He understood why he wasn’t feared, he knew she was aware he’d lose any and all chance to negotiate with the Autobots if one of their human companions died by his hand. But the rest, he just couldn’t figure out. He couldn’t figure out what she wanted, and she wouldn’t tell either.

He wanted to stay. Stay where he knew it was all warm and safe and soothing. But somehow, he couldn’t stand it at the same time. It all felt too much. So much, so quickly, and the reality of his situation was slowly dawning on him. She was far too smart to simply not have any ulterior motive, and he did not want to owe anything more than he had to.

“I’ve disturbed your recharge cycle.” He spoke up, and without letting her protest, picked her up by the back of her shirt. Out of the bathtub, observing thoughtfully as the water dripped from her clothes.

“Your… coverings, however you call them-“

“Clothes?”

“Clothes will need to be dried, yes?” His voice was uncharacteristically soft. It still had that edge to it, but he sounded more confused than anything. He didn’t know what he was doing, did he?

“Uhh…sure.” she shrugged, looking all confused as he lowered her down onto her feet.

Not letting her grab it herself, Starscream handed her the towel hanging behind the door. She gave him a confused smile while drying herself, startled when he left her and stepped out into the hallway.

“Hey- where are you going?”

“I’m getting you dry clothes.” He replied, his tone once more mimicking how she had said it. “And don’t refuse.”

Surprisingly successful in his mission to locate her spare pajamas, he returned with the coverings and poked his servo through the crack of the door to hand them over. She’d closed it behind her when he’d left, and he figured there must have been a reason.

“Thank you, I think.”

“Don’t misunderstand. It makes no odds to me whether you’re dry or not. True, you did something for me, but I don’t want you assuming I’m in your debt, or that we’re allies now.” he explained, a disdain in his voice especially when he said allies.

She opened the door, staring up at him. About to say something.

“Starscream-“

“Whatever you’re intending to get from me, you’ll have to try harder.”

He picked her up again, carrying her through the house to her bedroom. Finding it again with a bit of difficulty.

Warm and safe and soothing?

Almost.

Ungraciously dropping her on her bed, he tapped his heel on the floor expectantly and the human took the hint that he wanted her to get under the covers.

“Well?” she asked, as the jet moved closer to sit beside her.

“Your…assistance. I appreciate it.” For a moment, there was sincerity. And then it was gone. The seeker quickly stood up again, walking over to the window. “You should get on with your recharge cycle.” There was a reservation to his tone. Holding back, feeling out of place.

“Yeah, I’ll-“ she was cut off by the sight of Starscream climbing out of the window.

“Goodnight, uh- Starscream!” she waved awkwardly, getting out of bed to run over to the open window just in time to watch as he transformed and flew away into the darkness. So much for keeping a low profile, it was a wonder he hadn’t broken glass and set off car alarms with that sound.

A beautiful sound, a beautiful jet and she could almost make out the starlight shimmering on his newly cleaned finish. Silently hoping he wouldn’t fly into a cloud and get it wet, she returned to her bed and turned off the lights.

Starscream shot up into the sky, climbing into the depth of the night and circling the area until he saw her lights go out. The wind flowing over his wings once more was something he could never take for granted. He couldn’t be sure, but he thought the wind was flowing just a little bit smoother over his skin than it usually did. It was a clear night, making the stars and this planet’s lone moon shine even the more brighter. Reflecting off him. A sudden wave of melancholy hit his spark, traversing these skies alone. And Starscream realised at this moment that he’d been alone, that he’d been alone all this time. Even when he had been part of the Decepticons. Perhaps even more so then, when the bots around him were more akin to liabilities than allies. He hadn’t bothered to befriend them.

Why settle, when he knew would be less than what he’d once had?

How could he have ever made them into his friends when he had already lost the ones closest to his spark?

When he knew no connection he could make again would ever compare?

There was no trine to accompany him anymore, Skywarp and Thundercracker only a leftover memory from the times when he couldn’t have imagined going at it on his own like this for so long. But he had survived without them. Grown stronger, he decided. Yes, that couldn’t be disputed. A consolation prize for his loss. Primus’ joke at his expense. He wondered briefly if getting himself cleaned by this human was an insult to their memory. It had been their job, now done by an organic. The thought didn’t last long as he remembered that they would’ve probably yelled at him for not finding someone to help him preen sooner, and even if just for a moment it brought a smile to his faceplate. Although still unsure how he felt about this human, he knew one thing for certain: He was going to make this up to her, get even.

For one reason or another.

[sailorblossoms-rankane]

This is probably an unpopular opinion, but when it comes to Rankane fics, I get annoyed when the fic takes place post-Jusenkyo/post-manga yet the conflict is still Ranma not admitting that he loves Akane or not realizing that he loves her. I mean, sure progress is not linear, but you’re telling me that Ranma - who felt like he had no reason to live anymore thinking that Akane died in Jusenkyo, crying that he never got to tell her that he loved her - is still struggling to realize he loves Akane post-Jusenkyo? I don’t know I’m probably taking it too seriously, but I wanna know your thoughts. 

To me, it’s like every Hotel Transylvania sequel being about Dracula struggling to respect his daughter’s life decisions and accept her bf/husband (I thought you learned your lesson in the last movie Dracula, why are you relearning the same lesson for the nth time).

Every time I see "Ranma doesn't know how he feels about Akane" or "he needs some sort of intervention to stop being indecisive and choose Akane" I'm in danger of suffering a stroke. I won't spend time looking for panels for this response to not endanger myself, I'll just vent: I need everyone to make the conscious efforts of emptying their minds, letting go of whatever the fuck they absorbed when they watched the show before they read the manga, because they're absolutely not doing the same things. Anime Ranma is often either a cardboard or a fraud. I need him to get shot before anyone opens a doc or grabs a pen to draft a story. He's deceiving you! Let him go! It is that serious!

The thing about good ol' Ranma is that HE KNOWS HE'S IN LOVE WITH AKANE. HE KNOWS IT FROM VOLUME 1. HE DENIES IT BECAUSE HE'S A SHY BITCH WHO DOESN'T KNOW HOW TO DEAL WITH FEELINGS BUT HE KNOWS. STOP PLAYING WITH ME. Here's something important about Ranma: he's so secure in his feelings for Akane that he doesn't think there's anything to choose in the first place. Deep down he thinks it's locked in. This is why sometimes, when he gets jealous (which the old show KEPT OMITTING AGAIN AND AGAIN) he talks as if he thinks Akane is cheating on him. At worst, he can take Akane for granted (and so he's punished) The person who's more dense here in realizing their feelings at first is Akane, but she doesn't take fucking forever to know either.

Ranma and Akane are sparring. That's their dynamic throughout the manga. Ranma's whole deal in the final arc, when he denies that he said "I love you" out loud (which is true, he screams it in his thoughts, he didn't say it out loud. This being interpreted as "Ranma took back his I love you" is INSANE. Akane doesn't take it that way either, next panel she's going "you might as well have said it out loud you son of a bitch") is that being straightforward and verbally expressing his feelings FIRST is the equivalent of him losing their match, and he refuses to lose. Akane won't say it first either because "what if Ranma, immature and emotionally stunted as he is, makes fun of her instead?" there's pride here too. We could write an essay on what hold Akane and Ranma back from confessing their love, but they spend practically the whole manga in love and aware.

[spleenthecat]

alright let me take a crack at this

there are a few plot holes that we need to avoid here. and by a few i mean a good amount.

stan’s criminal record. nobody would want to take the identity of someone who still has jail time to serve. so this will have to be an au where a. it takes place before stan turns to crime or b. stan doesn’t commit crime at all. or a secret third option where ford doesn’t even realize how much of a criminal stan is until he’s too far in and has to learn how to run from the cops.

the fingers. nobody in gravity falls ever noticed that ford had 6 fingers, so it was easy for them to just go with a normal guy who had 5. but someone with 5 fingers seeming to randomly grow an extra finger? strange. especially since stan is much more sociable than ford. the guy who’s known for being super talkative and knows everyone in town suddenly locks himself away in his house? also strange.

stanley needs to be out of the picture one way or another. probably not dead?

ford needs a motive. this has two parts two it. a. he needs a reason to leave his old identity behind and b. he needs a reason to take stan’s identity specifically.

so with all of this in mind. i give you this.

stan gets to gravity falls before ford does. thinks “hey this place isn’t on any maps. no cops will find me here!”

settles in. makes a good living off of being a tourist trap.

he uses the bill summoning thing as another attraction. Very Stupid Idea.

bill comes to make a deal with stan. thinks “hey look there’s a guy i can con.”

stan gets approached by bill for a deal. thinks “hey look there’s a guy i can con.”

stan goes missing

ford arrives to gravity falls.

ford does not have grant money. people don’t believe in his weirdness theory because they think he’s just talking about the tourist trap that used to be there for a while.

finds an old abandoned shack.

investigates old abandoned shack.

“hey wait a minute. not only are there scraps of proof for my theory, but these are stan’s belongings!”

ford thinks. nobody takes him seriously. people don’t seem to take stan’s disappearance seriously either.

“hey! what if i took on his identity, reopened the tourist trap, and used this footing for money and such while i look for stan?”

and thus. ford takes stan’s identity, runs the tourist trap and tries to look for his brother.

the excuse for the fingers is that he had a run in with some kind of magical creature. it gifted him with extra dexterity in the form of extra fingers. everyone loves it.

ford learns to run from the cops. something he never thought he would have to do.

You know what? We have Stanley pretending to be Stanford for a long ass time

Now give me an AU where Stanford pretends to be Stanley. I don't know man, like he wasn't anyone you could even pretend to be. Stanley is a nobody. Basically.

So this AU would be where he is someone somewhere and Stanford has to pretend to be him. Why? I don't know, figure it out.

[saintsenara]

read Scylla and Charybdis today loved it! Very excited to see how it continues. I have a question for you as someone for whom the intricacies of the British class system are still a bit misty. Aren’t Snape and Lily both from Cokeworth? They’re almost neighbors, right? They’re able to run into each other at the swing set after having walked there at age nine or so. So how is it that Lily’s family is sooo much better off financially than Severus’s family? Or is that even true? Would they not have similar accents and similar ignorances at Hogwarts compared with their classmates? And Lily is muggleborn and a woman, so she has those disadvantages to deal with when Severus doesn’t. 

It feels like Severus is taking for granted that his situation is far more difficult than Lily’s. Is that a reasonable assumption on his part, or is he not seeing past the end of his own nose? From where I’m sitting, it seems like he feels so sorry for himself about his (def seems pretty grim) background that he decides to do terrorism about it and he sort of resents Lily for not grasping that. But she has a very similar background as far as I can tell? Or are things really that different a few streets away? Or is it specifically because Severus was raised by his drunk, deadbeat, abusive father that his outlook is so bleak? 

Like yes Lily can afford ice cream and it doesn’t occur to her to treat Severus (Harry is maybe a better friend than she was in some ways?). But being able to afford ice cream kind of looks trivial when compared to the prospect of trying to fit into magical public life after Hogwarts when a looooot of the population seems in agreement with Voldemort that muggleborns should definitely be treated as second class citizens? Kind of like what Remus says about how Harry’s view on his lycanthropy is rose colored by having only seen him under Dumbledore’s protection. Tho on the other hand, there are the muggleborn hiring quotas that Severus would probably point to. 

if the answer is just Yeah Severus is an insightful person but he also has a severe case of sees-what-he-wants-to-see-itis like that’s fine, I just suspect there are some cultural nuances I am missing as an American. 

thank you very much for the ask, pal! i'm delighted you're enjoying scylla and charybdis.

snape and lily's respective class backgrounds are something i've gone into more detail about here, but the summary is that they're both from working-class backgrounds, but that there's a hierarchy of sub-backgrounds - each with its own behavioural nuances - within each class bracket. from an outside perspective - that is to say, from a separate class bracket - these sub-hierarchies might not seem particularly profound, but they matter enormously within their specific brackets.

snape - who lives in victorian slum housing, is visibly destitute, has a father who's presumably unemployed a lot of the time [and who, when he does work, is presumably - since the text really hammers home the connection between his house and the mill - a mill-worker], and has a family who seem to have a reputation for not being respectable [petunia knows who snape is when he first meets lily, and she's clearly been advised not to socialise with his sort…] - is a level of working class below lily. i doubt she comes from a background which is rich by any means. but she was clearly raised in a family which was both much more financially stable and much more socially stable - and, therefore, much more socially respectable.

and these class nuances clearly repeat themselves in the wizarding world [the wizarding class system - for the doylist reason that jkr didn't want to flesh it out so she just made it the same as the real-world version and the watsonian reason that the way class functions in britain has roots which stretch back well before the statute of secrecy - is a mirror to the muggle one...]

they're just obscured in canon by the fact that so few of the main characters we encounter in the text are working-class. as i've gone into more detail about here, hogwarts is an institution which is pretty homogenous class-wise, but this isn't because the wizarding world is more egalitarian in terms of social class [we meet lots of characters - especially in manual or service roles - who are transparently intended to be understood by the reader as working-class and, therefore, to be understood by the reader as harry's social inferiors], it's because hogwarts exists in order to mould its students into people who conform to the social conventions of the wizarding elite, before it shuffles them off into state jobs to maintain and enforce the class system.

the teenage snape is one of only two students we ever meet - from any blood-category - who looks working-class [the other is hagrid]. he also appears to sound working-class - the swearing which prompts james to wash his mouth out is how the narrative communicates this, while the text's implication that everyone else at hogwarts sounds fairly homogenous is another way the school trains its students to be the elite - and to comport himself in a way which is similarly understood as a bit rough...

and this is very interesting, because it's a manifestation of one of snape's character traits which comes up again and again across the series - that he detests people who have had [or who he perceives to have had] everything handed to them on a plate.

he's not somebody who's naturally deferential - he will defer to people he believes have earned their right to consider themselves his superior [such as voldemort and dumbledore] but he's totally unwilling to defer to people whose only superiority over him comes from things like their class background [hence him responding to sirius implying that he's lucius malfoy's bitch by pointing out that he's actually the one who needs to worry about what lucius could do to him], their connections [hence his "ironic bow" when umbridge is trying to threaten him by referring to his relationship with lucius], their social status [hence literally every interaction he ever has with harry] or their wealth [likewise].

and this results in him being the only hogwarts-educated character we ever meet who doesn't play the class game while at school [voldemort - while he rejects the patron-client dynamic with slughorn which was clearly the only way he'd be allowed to enter the ministry - clearly makes the effort to speak and behave like a pureblood during his teenage years, which is exactly why everyone finds him turning down slughorn's job offers to be so shocking]. but, aged sixteen, the snape we find on the page isn't making any effort to embrace the social conventions which are his only hope of escaping poverty in a world with such a restrictive class system. he wants to become successful on his own merits.

this is a pretty admirable thing, in and of itself. but it gives him a series of absolutely enormous blind spots in his relationship with lily.

because lily does play the game. she's one of slughorn’s favourites, she's one of dumbledore’s favourites, she marries and takes the name of a pureblood man, and when she turns on her working-class friend [which she does for the very, very good reason that he's just called her a slur]... she does so by pointing out her superiority to his poverty.

from snape's perspective, this is class-treachery… but this means that he never bothers thinking about why lily might want to - and, indeed, need to - engage with wizarding society in a more conventional way.

[we also see this in half-blood prince, when harry, ron, and ginny find the idea of hermione attending the slug club to be ridiculous. none of them think for one moment about why a muggleborn woman might want to obtain the support of a well-connected pureblood man who clearly likes her…]

it's clear in canon that the only real way for muggleborns [and for part-humans - all of this also applies to lupin] to give themselves a modicum of protection from a state and a society which regards them as an underclass is to stick as rigidly to respectability politics as they can. they need to cultivate pureblood and half-blood connections and behave in ways which are deemed acceptable by the pureblood world and so on, so that when the state is seeking to oppress them, they have someone ready to defend them as "one of the good ones".

indeed, i'm always struck in deathly hallows that - when the trio infiltrate the ministry - reg cattermole [really ron in disguise] is told the following by yaxley:

"But if my wife were accused of being a Mudblood," said Yaxley, "- not that any woman I married would ever be mistaken for such filth - and the Head of the Department ofMagical Law Enforcement needed a job doing, I would make it my priority to do that job, Cattermole. Do you understand me?" [DH 12]

and this phrasing is really important. because it comes with the implication that being accused of being muggleborn is an accusation which can - on occasion - be beaten.

it's apparent in the text that being accused of being - or found to be - muggleborn [and therefore "guilty" of the "crime" of "stealing magic"] is more likely to happen to you if you're somebody the regime wants out of the way.

we see this in the case of dirk cresswell, who's clearly identified [correctly! we know he is one because slughorn tells us so in half-blood prince] as a muggleborn in order to benefit two men who are death eaters or death eater collaborators...

this bloke:

The wizard leaned toward Harry, leering, and muttered, "Dirk Cresswell, eh? From Goblin Liaison? Nice one, Albert. I'm pretty confident I'll get his job now!" [DH 12]

and runcorn, who would presumably receive some sort of job-related boost for "catching" as many muggleborns as possible:

The lift doors closed and as they clanked down another floor, Mr. Weasley said, "I hear you laid information about Dirk Cresswell." [DH 13]

runcorn is also the person who submits mary cattermole to the commission - and i have always believed that he does this because reg cattermole [who's someone arthur weasley clearly knows reasonably well] is known to have anti-voldemort views...

because hermione says something similar, when she points out to ron that him teaching her his family tree to help her pass as a pureblood would do nothing to protect her from the commission - the reason she's on the list of muggleborns who are wanted for questioning is because of her connection to harry [DH 11].

and ted tonks says that he refused to attend his registration hearing "on principle" [DH 15] - undoubtedly because he's aware that, as the father of an order member and the husband of a blood-traitor whose sister is one of the highest-ranking death eaters, he's someone the regime intends to kill, and he'd like to make doing that as difficult for it as possible...

but there's a subtext to all of these cases. if mary and dirk weren't people the regime regarded as expendable, or if ted and hermione weren't people the regime regarded as enemies, they'd have a chance of being safe. the commission would find some "proof" that they weren't muggleborn.

[perhaps by claiming that muggles traffic magical children and they'd been stolen from their real families, which would also handily stoke anti-muggle sentiment...]

yaxley is telling cattermole that the same thing could happen for his wife… in the right circumstances.

and so the lily of the 1970s is seeking to give herself as many of these right circumstances as possible. she's in the extraordinarily difficult position of wanting to fight voldemort - to the death, if need be - and having to set things up for herself in a way which enables her to keep fighting for as long as possible without attracting either voldemort or the state's ire, and having to deal with the fact that - when the anti-voldemort cause is victorious and the dark lord's dead - she's still going to be at risk from the state because she's a muggleborn.

financial worries are going to be less potent for her - james is wealthy; so is sirius, who she could presumably expect to help support her in a scenario where james was dead or imprisoned or in hiding; her relationship with dumbledore and slughorn could easily be leveraged into a high-flying job - and she's also [very probably] not going to stand out in terms of appearance, behaviour, or understanding of social convention from her hogwarts-educated pureblood and half-blood peers, which enables her - much like lupin - to move through the world without being instantly clocked as a target.

she's also protected - to some degree - by gender conventions. the married women we meet in canon prior to voldemort's defeat [the only exceptions, it seems, are tonks and maybe fleur] all take their husbands' names - and so lily acquiring a pureblood surname for herself offers her an additional, socially expected way to blend in which muggleborn men [or half-blood men with muggle fathers...] lack.

but these things are - of course - protections, rather than advantages.

snape just refuses to see it like that.

his focus is purely on the way he's discriminated against - and he is; he's not invented the grievance - due to his class background and financial status. and voldemort is the only person who takes this class aspect seriously - both in scylla and charybdis and in canon.

[this is why he has enormous support among werewolves and goblins. this is why the snatchers are all written as working-class young men. this is why there's a populist undertone to his regime.]

but voldemort is also treading a fine line. he can't declare himself to be seeking to destroy the class-system by which the wizarding world functions... because then the elite supporters who think his aims are pureblood oligarchy would abandon him and the ministry would be less willing to make concessions [after all, the implication of canon is that - if he'd just stayed away from harry - the first war would have been wrapped up by the ministry coming to the table…].

but he also needs to keep his popular support... so he can't be seen to be someone who's in favour of oligarchy.

but he also needs to keep those of his supporters who are drawn to him precisely because of his promise of violence happy... so he can't come across as someone who's perfectly happy to take over the state and its institutions and keep them running broadly unchanged.

but he also needs to keep the support he has among part-humans and non-humans... so he can't do anything which will have him dismissed as someone who's advocating for the same old wizard-supremacist violence.

but he also needs to keep both his elite and his popular wizarding support by not even remotely suggesting that he's seeking to replace magical people with werewolves and goblins…

he needs a scapegoat he can turn all of these disparate groups' ire on, in a way which prevents them from realising that he's lying to them all and that what he actually wants to do is to rule as an immortal absolute monarch with everyone else cowering at his feet.

and he finds that scapegoat in muggleborns.

[ivystoryweaver]

Cosmic - Poe Dameron

Episode 4: It Came From Outer Space previous

Cosmic Masterlist | Poe Dameron Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Pairing: Poe Dameron x gn!reader

Summary: Quality time and a day at the fall festival with Poe, who doesn't really get the point of a ferris wheel. Oh and your ex is there.

Content/Notes: fluff, tw food, language

Word Count: 3.2k

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

"That everything?" Poe asked, securing the final basket in the back of your truck. Heaps of fresh organic produce, homemade jellies, herbs and eggs from your chickens were loaded and ready for your little farm's booth at the fair.

The warmish weather had finally eased into a crisp, cool morning, invigorating your fall spirit and giving you a boost of energy needed to peddle your wares.

Poe, dressed in his boots, jeans and a flannel button up of your dads - a dark green and navy plaid over a white t-shirt - gazed at you expectantly, hands on his hips.

"I think so," you answered, granting him a bright smile. "Thank you so much for doing this. It would have been a lot with Chester away in New Jersey. I've never done it by myself." Your thoughts briefly drifted to your father. This was only your second year without him at the festival.

"Glad I can help," he grinned, pushing a hand through his curls.

Since you'd bought him hair products and toiletries, he'd attempted new styles with gel and hairspray, usually preferring his hair off his face. Today it seemed he didn't bother, remarking how his hair had grown longer than ever, and beyond his control.

You offered to cut it for him soon, after the festival was behind you.

Right then, your cat Cheddar darted out of the barn, with Marigold and Kit Kat hot on his trail. Your three barn cats had added themselves to the long list of animals who instantly loved Poe. Cheddar had almost convinced the both of you that he was truly a house cat who needed to sleep in Poe's room at night, rather than out in the barn with his siblings. Almost.

Curling around Poe's legs adoringly, Cheddar meowed, waiting for attention, which Poe was more than willing to give.

"Heyyyy, little buddy, came to say goodbye? Don't worry, I'll be back."

Kneeling down, he granted some attention to Marigold, while Kit Kat hissed in jealous protest.

"All right, you guys, go back to catching things. We have to go." You playfully rubbed each of their heads before gently shooing them away.

It was then that you noticed Poe eyeing you with about as much fondness as Cheddar had displayed. It caught you off guard for a moment, until he held up the truck's key and dangled it in front of you.

"Can I drive?"

"Give me those," you laughed, yanking them out of his hand and bumping shoulders with him as you headed for the driver's side.

"Come onnn, please," he whined, following you closely.

You reached for the truck's door, but he pushed his arm up against it to stop you, trapping you there against the side of the truck, with his arm caging you in. Noticing how close your bodies were, he lowered his arm slowly, licking his lips as your eyes locked with his.

"Sorry." He backed away to give you some space, noticing how your breath stuttered and your eyelashes fluttered. "I'm the best pilot in our fleet, I swear. I can definitely handle a truck."

"Wow," you whistled, pulling open the truck door finally, but Poe noticed you still had a playful glint in your eye. "You actually insulted my truck while bragging. Well done. Passenger's seat for you."

He groaned, but complied, leaving it alone while you cranked the truck and backed it away from the house. Stopping at the end of your long driveway, you peered over at him.

"I know you can drive my truck. It took you like half a day to get what usually takes us regular people a few months to learn. It's just that you don't have a license and we cannot have any questions asked about who you are and where you're from. You understand, right?"

Poe swallowed, nodding, noting how serious you were. "Sorry. I just thought it would be fun. I didn't realize..."

"It's okay," you smiled warmly. "I just...I get nervous thinking about if someone found out. I mean, Poe, to think of what could happen to you..."

"Is it really that dangerous here? In the United States?" He asked, as you eased onto the main road and started driving.

"It could be. It really could. We are in a kind of war right now. A cold war. No one's firing, but it's tense. And if they find out you're from space, they'll never let you go. We have to keep it a secret no matter what. Let's go over our cover story again."

So you spent the drive into town reviewing the story you'd concocted. Poe had come to work on your farm temporarily, as a replacement for Chester, who was with his ill mom in New Jersey. Simple enough. For now, the story would be that Chester gave a friend of a friend-type recommendation. You would loop Chester in on the plan ASAP, when he wasn't preoccupied with helping his mom.

Poe would be called Joe, which sounded a little more run-of-the-mill Earthy, and would be from Florida. The next step was to somehow get him some convincing documents without drawing attention from the wrong people.

This story should be easy enough to maintain. If someone were to question you about Poe's past, you could simply claim to not know, since you truly met him so recently.

Something heavy settled in your stomach as you drove toward the first public outing with this man who fell to earth.

"Look, I'm sorry about the driving thing," he offered, once you'd double checked your story together. "I know we have to be careful. I promise I won't get you in any trouble."

Glancing over at him, you realized this must all be frightening to him, or at least alarming. "It's okay. You must be bored out of your mind on the farm." Pulling into a parking space in the grassy field outside the fair's entrance, you turned to face him. "You don't have to stay in the booth with me all day. You should ride some rides. They're fast. Probably not as fast as an X-wing, but...could be fun."

"Okay. Only if you ride with me."

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

To absolutely no one's surprise, Poe was a perfect addition to your booth. Chester was a great help when he was around, but he was more of a behind the scenes worker.

Poe was a people person, charming customers, introducing himself as Joe, as instructed, and making them feel at ease. With the way he was able to add a dozen farm fresh eggs or a jar of your jelly to each order, you were certain he could probably persuade anyone to do anything.

"You know, maybe I should go ride rides, since you've almost sold all the eggs before lunch," you teased during the briefest lull in customers.

Dark eyes went wide until he realized you were messing with him. "Oh...I thought I was doing it wrong for a second."

"No, please. The sooner we sell out, the sooner we can pack up and the less we have to carry home. Be my guest," you grinned, folding your arms over your chest. "Exactly how many dangerous situations have you charmed your way out of?"

Poe laughed, pushing his fingers through his curls again. "Way too many, Trix. You have no idea."

"Oh shit," you whispered, ducking behind the corner of your booth, frantically waving Poe over to join you.

"What's wrong?" He whispered, conspiratorially huddling with you. "Is it someone from the government?"

Shit, you probably scared him. "No. Sorry, no, it's just my ex."

He gazed into your eyes. "Your ex...boyfriend? Girlfriend?"

"Ex asshole," you failed to clarify, groaning as you realized it was too late. You'd been spotted.

"Heyyyy, it's my favorite organic farmer," your ex boomed, embarrassingly loudly, as he was often prone to do. At one time, you had adored his exuberance and bold personality.

"Hey there," Poe interjected, "what can I help you find today? We have homemade jelly."

Your ex made a sour face at you and hitched his thumb at your new, shorter friend. "Who's this guy?"

"Joe," Poe responded, thrusting his hand between you and your ex for a handshake. "Just started at the farm a few weeks ago, while Chester's away. So what can we get you?"

Ignoring Poe, your ex stared at you, waiting for your attention. Fighting a smile, you returned his rudeness and instead turned to Poe. "I think you've got this covered, so I'm gonna unbox a few more things."

"Take your time. We're good here." Poe sent you off with a wink.

Your heart raced as you darted around the side of your tent, so thankful for the embarrassing situation that didn't just happen. It wasn't that you couldn't take care of yourself, or handle your ex. Hell, you were the one who dumped him. You simply weren't in the mood for his loud mouth and embarrassing antics, especially if he tried to give Poe the third degree for simply existing in the same space as you.

Wondering, for a second, if you felt managed by Poe, or dismissed, you sighed in relief, realizing that his reaction was spot on, and just what you needed. He minimized someone who loved to make everything about himself. He kept the focus on your booth and your products, allowing you to get to tasks that needed your attention.

To be seen and understood so effortlessly felt really good.

Another hour passed before the two of you took a break for lunch, closing your booth for about twenty minutes to sit near the back and munch on some ridiculously fried fair food you insisted Poe try.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

By mid afternoon, you'd sold out of everything except a few greens, but Poe was determined, continuing to sell while you started packing up.

As the sun set, your booth was empty and cleared, leaving the two of you free to enjoy the festivities.

"Thank you so much for today," you sweetly said, bumping shoulders as you walked along rows of various carnival style games. "This is the most successful year I've ever had."

"Happy to help," He smiled over at you, "with getting rid of produce...or ex-boyfriends."

"Oh my god, I'm sorry about that," you chuckled. "I appreciate it though. I was not in the mood to talk to him, believe me."

Poe focused his eyes ahead, enjoying the music drifting through the air, the smell of what you called popcorn and brightly colored balloons. "I thought it would be good practice for getting rid of unwanted attention," he shrugged. Waiting a bit, he added, "He didn't hurt you, did he?"

You let out a long sigh, prompting Poe to say, "sorry."

"No, it's okay," you assured him. "We had some good times. He helped out, you know...when my father got sick. But I found out he was going to propose. And then I found out why he wanted to propose."

Poe groaned, "Don't say he wanted your farm."

"Bingo," you remarked, snapping your fingers and pointing at him. "I mean, really, is this 1881 or 1981? He was after my land?"

"I guess there are worse reasons to marry. But I see your point," Poe conceded. "Was he good to you?" He flinched. "Is that okay to ask?"

"He was until he wasn't," you confessed. "Kind of ruined the whole, benevolent 'help my father' thing when I caught him with another woman."

Poe whistled. "Okay, now I have to kick his ass."

That made you laugh. "He's not worth it. Come on, let's ride the ferris wheel."

Less that ten minutes later, you and Poe sat side-by-side in the bucket seat...of the world's slowest ride, apparently.

"What does this thing do?" he questioned. "It's really slow. And goes in a circle. Is that fun in Iowa?"

You burst out laughing, swatting him on the arm. "It's peaceful and kind of magical because it goes up high and you can see the town." You explained this as your gondola climbed to the ferris wheel's highest point.

Poe nodded, taking a moment to enjoy the highest vantage point he'd seen in weeks, since his ship crashed here. Normally, he was used to being up in the air on a daily basis, so this was nothing too special. Until he glanced over and noticed your eyes shining as you gazed out across the festival and surrounding, rural fields.

Peering over the edge, you remarked how high up you were, bouncing with excitement before looking back at Poe, eyes bright and filled with wonder.

"You're right about the view," he said softly, eyes never leaving your face as the ferris wheel slowly brought you back down to earth.

Next you dragged him to a mini roller coaster, promising it would go at least somewhat faster. Hands gripping the safety rails, you squealed in delight as Poe grinned, enjoying the ride almost as much as he loved riding full speed on your horse Annabelle a week ago.

"I'll take you flying someday. Somehow," he promised. You appreciated the gesture, but your heart burned at the faraway look in his eyes. It sobered you to remember, again, that he needed to find a way to get out of here eventually.

"I'll probably embarrass myself and scream or get sick, but I would love to see you in action."

As soon as the words left your mouth, your face heated up. And he noticed.

Leaning closer his eyes dropped to your lips before he smiled knowingly, nodding behind you. "You want to see me in action, let's go."

Brushing past you, he left you a bit speechless until you realized he intended to play a shooting game. With perfect precision, he used rubber darts and a plastic gun to take aim at, and perfectly eliminate yellow duckies in a row, earning some oohs and ahhs from interested onlookers, and the game's attendant.

"Best shootin' I've seen all day, son. Pick a prize from the top row there." The older gentleman pointed up to the row of ridiculously oversized stuffed animals.

Poe grinned at you. "Which one?"

"You won it," you giggled. "You pick."

He chose a gigantic plush lizard.

"For you." He presented it with a dramatic flare.

"Wowww, this is...this is really something. Thank you." You laughed in spite of the weird but oddly cute offering.

"Well you have lots of animals at home, so I thought you might like something different," he explained as you headed for the cotton candy tent. "Besides, all the animals here are really...hairy." He squeezed the giant lizard. "This guy looks more like my galaxy."

"I love it then," you decided. "What should we call him?"

"Toe Dameron," he teased, a twinkle in his brown eyes. "That way, you'll think of me when you hug him."

For the first time in a while, you enjoyed a good belly laugh. "I don't need a giant lizard named Toe to think about you, but okay."

Poe carried Toe Dameron around while you bought some cotton candy, which intrigued him immensely. He gobbled it up quickly, which let both of you know he was actually hungry. So next up was the pizza stand, of which Poe was definitely a fan, polishing off three slices while you sat at a small table with Toe Dameron on the ground beside you.

"A picture for the lovely couple?" A photographer asked, appearing beside your table, with his camera at the ready.

"Uhh, not a couple, and no, actually, it's okay." You waved him off. Digging into your pocket, you gave him a small tip. "Thanks anyway."

"What was that?" Poe asked through a mouthful of pizza.

"Nothing, he just wanted to take our picture - like the ones in my hall, you know? A photograph?"

Poe nodded, polishing off his meal.

"But, even though I would love to have a picture with you, I just think it could be dangerous. Better to keep a low profile."

"Right, good thinking." Glancing around, the idea that he was an unwelcome guest on planet Earth seemed to sober him. "You're sure it's safe to be here?"

"Yes, it's fine," you assured him.

Hoping to cheer him up, you took him to a very spinny, very fast ride that he loved. But as soon as it ended, you both realized what a terrible idea it was to ride the spinning ride after eating a ton of pizza.

"Ready to go?"

Poe was gazing past you again, as he'd been doing all day, his interest piqued by every different or similar thing to his home galaxy.

This time, his ears perked up at the sound of live music and his eyes gazed at couples dancing on a makeshift dance floor.

"Come on," he urged, taking you by the hand. "Dance with me."

"Oh...okay," you smiled at his exuberance. Poe was so full of life, so interested in every little thing.

Swallowing down any trepidation you felt about making a fool of yourself on the dance floor, you eased into an embrace with him, swaying to a medium tempo song, getting used to the feel of one another.

The song cadenced and the beat kicked off a lively tune, which delighted Poe. He took the lead, guiding you through steps that were probably not of this world, but seemed to make sense. He certainly had a good sense of rhythm and was no stranger to dancing.

You slightly stumbled once, but he steadied you with his palm spread across your back. "Just follow me, I've got you." He smiled brilliantly, giving you a twirl and guiding you around to his opposite side, before somehow doing the same thing in reverse. You weren't sure how he managed it, but it was fun and you found yourself laughing and relaxing all the way through the end of the song.

The music slowed into a couples' dance, so you stepped back to give Poe an out, but he held out his hand. "One more?"

You smiled sweetly at him in spite of yourself, taking his hand as he pulled you close, somehow still keeping time even with the slow tempo.

"Is this okay?" He breathed against your cheek, arm cinching you closer even as he asked permission.

"Yeah...it's okay. You're a good dancer," you breathlessly whispered on his ear. "Which isn't surprising. You're good at everything."

"Thank you," he granted you a sincere reply, which you appreciated. "We danced a lot growing up. Not exactly like this but...anyway."

Easing back, you gazed at him questioningly. "What is it?"

He gently smiled, eyes fixing on yours. "Nothing. I just...I haven't had a day like this in years. A day off, to have fun and dance and eat and laugh." He sighed, peering up at the night sky. "I think this is one of the best days I've ever had."

"Really?" You gasped, surprised and touched, honestly.

"Yeah," he nodded, eyes finding yours again. "Really. I think maybe Iowa is a special place."

That made you laugh.

"Or maybe it's because you're here." His arms wrapped all the way around you now, palm pressing along the curve of your back.

You reached up to push a stray curl out of his eyes. "Bet you say that on every planet you land on."

"Maybe, maybe not. But there's definitely only one Trix."

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

thanks to @silvernight-m for the names-that-rhyme-with-Poe exchange and @reallyrallyauthor for pointing out that many animals in Star Wars world are reptilian

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

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[brw]

Okay, I've finished every Alpha Flight volume, all the limited series' and the one-shot, and most of the cameo appearances, and can I just say, I have truly no idea what the fuck people are on about when they say that Aurora and Sasquatch's relationship is uniquely awful, or abusive, or incredibly toxic, and I can't tell if it's because I have a uniquely high tolerance for weird and toxic relationship dynamics in comics (I have fun reading a lot of Ant-Man and Wasp comics, I love Vision and the Scarlet Witch, I'm a ReedSue warrior, etc), or if everyone else had Alpha Flight be their first 80s comics, because Sasquatch hasn't done like, anything! And I know she's my favourite, so I'm naturally inclined to be more gentle than most people, but even with that context, I feel like I'm usually pretty good at recognising when my faves do something messed up. I'm a Hank McCoy fan, I know how to criticise a blorbo for war crimes. but Sasquatch doesn't even do that very much until the last 20 issues of the series, and it wasn't Aurora. Because, okay, here are Sasquatch's crimes in Alpha Flight;

Attempted to calm Jeanne Marie down by explaining the relationship between Langkowski and Aurora. In this, the narratior dialogue literally says that Jeanne Marie does not feel the disgust she would expect of herself for learning of her altar's sexual activities, and that's what makes her react like that. It has nothing to do with Sasquatch's actions, and everything to do with Jeanne Marie's complex and negative feelings about her own sexuality, of which Sasquatch was kept in the dark about by Mac until this issue. Alpha Flight V1 #4

I've seen people say that Sasquatch persuing a relationship with Aurora after this fact was wrong, and I can see where they're coming from, but it does feel deeply infantilising, frankly. Would you say that about Betty Ross and her relationship with Bruce and Hulk? What about Marlo and Joe Fixit? Aurora clearly was interested in Sasquatch and was determined in pursuing that relationship, and I don't think Sasquatch is a bad person for returning those feelings and that desire any more than I think like, Janet van Dyne is a bad person for loving Hank still when he was Yellowjacket. This isn't an uncommon dynamic in cape comics, especially in the 80s. I don't know what to tell you. Acting like someone continuing to pursue someone with dissociative identity disorder is an awful person is just a really odd take to me, particularly again with the context that this is not an uncommon plotline in the remit of 80s comics. Is everyone who ever dated Moon Knight getting cancelled now, too? Or is it only women with D.I.D. who are too mentally ill to be capable of relationships and of consent? I'm not denying that the way this was written was ableist, and misogynistic, but acting like Sasquatch is awful for being romantically involved with a woman with D.I.D. while not being incredibly informed on D.I.D. is bizarre to me because you can say that about SO many comic book characters with dissociative identity disorder!

Camouflaged Aurora's x-gene when she asked Sasquatch to change her powers to be no longer reliant on Northstar. I've seen some people act like this entire situation was non-consensual, but no, Aurora went out of her way to ask to be changed to not rely on Northstar's powers with her light ability. Alpha Flight V1 #17

I don't think like, nonconsensual body experimentation is a good thing, but again, this is small potatoes to me. I'd understand it if it was Sasquatch changing Aurora's powers without permission, but the only thing she did was mask the X-gene, and I'd like to remind everyone this is the universe where they canonically have giant genocidal murder robots. Like I'm sorry but I just simply do not think this is the worst thing someone has ever done to their partner in comics! And granted, when Reed did the same thing to Franklin in the most recent FF vs X-Men, I also didn't care and I was on his side, so I might just be built different, but some of you people would not survive reading 70s Avengers comics. Is it a great moment? Of course not, but I think it's an understandable action in the universe where mutant genocides come monthly, and I do not think this holds water as proof Sasquatch is an awful abusive person, particularly when the reason for Aurora wanting to no longer be connected with Northstar came after multiple instances of Northstar assaulting Aurora, purposefully endangering her, slut-shaming her, being very controlling towards her regarding her relationship with Sasquatch as if that was not a choice she was making, and even after when Sasquatch was dead, continuted to be incredibly ableist to both her and the disabled man she was involved with, Roger Bochs. Like, I appreciate and I KNOW that their relationship has grown and has gotten much better, but at this point in time, frankly, Aurora was right to want to be separated from him, I think, because he was not a good brother to her.

And in any case, the mutant gene thing, the actual issue and the actual symbol of non consensual body modification, almost immediately gets forgotten. Writers have since talked about and discuss the way her powers were altered; none of them in the main Alpha Flight series have ever acknowledged her X-Gene being masked, so outside of this one issue, it literally does not come up and is never framed as an issue. I think you could, and I'd be interested if they did, but I do not think altering Aurora's powers WHEN ASKED to distance her from her brother, who at this time, was a distinctly controlling, cruel figure in her life, was a bad thing to do. The sense of ownership over her, the justifiying mutant bigotry, sure, that's messed up, but I've read every single fucking issue after that, and it does not come up again, so you're going to have to try harder to convince me.

And after this, that's sort of it? Like, I'm trying to think of anything else that happens in any of these runs, and nothing's really coming to me. They don't get back together after Sasquatch comes back, and don't get back together for the rest of the run.

I guess there's the bit where Sasquatch helps instituionalise Aurora in that random issue of Wolverine (#173), but like, I'm really sorry, you'll have to forgive me if a random issue of a Frank Tieri comic that only happened to set up Frank Tieri's Weapon X series which is universally hated by Alpha Flight/Aurora fans isn't something I'm gonna sit here and call core characterisation. It happened because Tieri wanted Aurora in that series so she could get sexualised and abused, and to my knowledge he has never written Sasquatch or Aurora before or since his Weapon X series, so again, you'll have to forgive me if this, to me, feels like the equivalent of pulling out Bendis' Avengers Disassembled as a core piece of Wanda Maximoff characterisation. Like, no. That is ridiculous. What are you talking about.

Look, alright, look. I'm aware, as I've repeated, that I have an unnaturally high tolerance for comic book nonsense. I like 60s comics a lot. I read all of Force Works, and Silver Sable and the Wild Pack recently. You think Byrne was weird in Alpha Flight? Try reading his West Coast Avengers. So it makes sense that some people would read these moments, and see them as unforgivable, because they aren't deep in the weeds of what nonsense comic books can be. They haven't sat down and read Avengers #200, one of the most infamously awful comics ever. They haven't followed the trajectory of Hank Pym and Janet van Dyne's relationship up to it's divorce, and afterwards, and seen how misogyny, ableism and saneism all combined in a very odd 15 years of comics. They haven't read fucking Force Works. Or Silver Sable and the Wild Pack. Or Super Soldiers. Or any of the other obsucre, awful comics from the 90s I've been reading. Fine!

But what I don't understand is the volume of people who have read all of Alpha Flight who think these are completely unforgivable, awful actions, when they barely rank a D tier to me in the grand scheme of comic book crimes. Like, okay. In issues #59 and #60 of Marvel Team-Up, Spider-Man teams up with Yellowjacket and Wasp, and over the course of those issues, we learned Hank injected Janet with like, extra Wasp DNA to make her powers stronger while she was sleeping as a surprise anniversay present. And when Janet finds out, she's like, "😊 You're so thoughtful", and you're telling me the worst thing you've ever read is someone agreeing to change someone's powers very slightly to not be reliant on the twin brother she has an incredibly fraught relationship with, a twin brother who purposefully tried to force you into a wild bloodlust to scare his sister so he could be the sole person she trusted??? That's the worst thing you've ever read????And I was under the impression that only weird people who read a lot of comics and are naturally used to this sort of thing read Alpha Flight, but I guess not??

Whatever. I guess I just expected a lot more and a lot worse in the grand scheme of comic books from the way people were talking about them and this relationship, but while I don't like, think these two are good for each other, or should stay together, their relationship at most just seems like regular John Byrne shenanigans, and I've read too many John Byrne comics for that to phase me. Did you guys go from reading slice of life webcomics to Alpha Flight with no in between? Sasquatch doesn't even leave Aurora to die in the Antarctic like Rogue did with Gambit (Uncanny X-Men #350)....

[the-chosen-fanfiction]

Jesus | An Alleyway Encounter | Platonic

When your parents find out you’ve been writing about a certain Jewish Messiah, they are enraged. Even though discouraged, you find your way towards an unexpected place whilst pursuing something tiny yet convincing.

Requested by Pia

With some effort, you manage to scribble another few words onto the paper, until your inkwell is completely dry and in need of a refill. A sigh leaves you as you read over the text you have been writing so far, content with your handiwork as you put down your pen to roll the aching joint of your wrist, glad with that your efforts are paying off. 

What you are noting down is dangerous and might get you disowned if you aren’t careful enough. Your heart, however, pours over with it; the teachings of the mysterious new Rabbi Who has been around Capernaum lately. Just when you thought that this was nothing but a boring backwater village where your parents had dragged you off to, so that your father could do his duty for the Empire as a centurion, things suddenly became a whole lot more interesting the moment you witnessed a miracle taking place on the streets. 

Granted, you couldn’t exactly verify that the man in question had been paralysed in the legs for a long time, but the reactions around him said more than enough, as did the anger within the religious leaders that the actions of Jesus had sparked. Then again, when you started to dig around in your own memory to search for any ounce of familiarity when comparing this Jesus to your own gods, well… You couldn’t truly relate what He did to anything you knew. 

Although you had been interested before, the moment you truly set your sights on Him was when you passed Him by in the street on a random morning, when you had been sent out by your mother to get breakfast for you and your siblings. There was no word that had come from His lips, nor had He halted to greet you. A meeting of the eyes, nothing more, but the second His eyes rested on yours, a warmth had spread from the cavity of your chest to all the other parts of your body. You had halted, but when you pivoted, He had turned the corner already. 

A split second had been enough, and you couldn’t stay away from His sermons ever since. Still, your heart was so full, but sharing about this wondrous Messiah was perilous. Your father was a devout follower of the gods and even after all these years, he was still adamant on you becoming a priestess one day. An honourable calling, he always said, but you didn’t feel called by them yourself.

Instead of speaking about Him, you decided to write everything down. Perhaps it would make it easier to eventually share it verbally with your parents, too. There was a plan steadily unfolding inside your head already: first, you would talk about Jesus with your siblings to ask if they had heard of Him, too. Next, you’d invite them over to a few teachings to gauge their response and eventually meditate on them together. When you’d gathered enough courage, you’d convince them to join you in order to confront your parents about this amazing Miracle Worker. 

Your plan is steadily being set in motion. You massage the painful joints in your fingers and slide off your chair in order to get some more ink from your father’s study, humming a song as you head over to the other end of the hallway. With a rapid knocking on the door, you announce your presence to him, hearing a muffled command to enter from the other side. 

The hinges of the door creak a little as you step in. “Hello, father,” you formally greet, curtsying a little as he looks up at you with slight disinterest. “I am in need of more ink.” 

“Again?” he rumbles, gesturing for you to place your empty inkwell in his outstretched palm, “What are you writing, that you are so often in need of it?” 

You shuffle back and forth on your feet as you try to come up with an answer. “Just some meditations,” you tell him, which isn’t a lie in and of itself. With narrowed eyes, your father observes you for a moment before slowly pouring some black liquid into your inkwell. You watch how it flows into the tiny opening with practised ease. 

“What kind of mediations?” 

“Just… Things that come to mind.” 

Your father rises a bushy eyebrow as he slides the full pot of ink back to you. You carefully take it to not let it spill over the edge. 

“About?” 

“God.” 

“Jupiter?” 

“No.” 

Your heart races as you wonder for how long you can keep this under wraps. The man in front of you is a stern and strict cynic when it comes to anything, especially when it involves his youngest daughter. 

The door behind you opens again, your mother appearing on the threshold with a look of defeat on her face. Your father gives her a questioning look, but sees how her gaze settles on you instead. 

“Mother?” you ask, seeing your cloak in her hands, your heart sinking at the realisation. 

“Why must you break our hearts, child?” she whispers, voice dangerously close to breaking as it teeters on the edge thereof. “Why must you fill your soul with such blasphemous nonsense?” 

The legs of the chair scrape against the tile as your father stands up, the sound of it making the hairs of your neck stand on end, and he steps around the desk with a few large paces. You gulp as you look up at him as he towers over you.

“What is your mother talking about? Speak!” 

Your mother hands him something — the piece of parchment that you’d been writing on earlier — and you feel your face grow hot. “I… I don’t know what—” 

“Don’t lie to me!” your father bellows, “What is this?!” The ink is still a little wet as he holds the paper out in your direction. You gulp, almost inclined to tell him to be careful with it. 

“That’s uh… That’s my mediations.” 

“On that Jewish Preacher that our respected and honourable Praetor Quintus has been warning us about,” your mother calls your out, wrath growing within your father’s gaze. “I was just in her room to fetch her for her daily prayers… And found not only this, but more notes on this heretic, too…” 

The silence that falls within the room is worse than your father’s endless ranting whenever he’s cross with you. Usually, he offers a lecture about how you should obey the wishes of him and mater, how you shouldn’t be disappointing them so much, but now he looks at you with heartbreak in his expression. Somehow, it stings more than his anger. 

“Go to your room,” he hisses, “Your mother and I will destroy every piece of nonsense you have written about this Jew and you will stay in there until you’ve learnt some good faith. You will say your prayers and we will check if you do! Once we go back home, I will drag you to the nearest temple and you will become a servant of Jupiter, Minerva and Apollo. Is that clear?” 

You let out a shaky exhale, chewing on your lips in an attempt to not cry, and you nod. “Y-Yes father.” 

“Now get out of my sight,” he huffs, “Before I die of shame. An apostate daughter getting involved with a filthy Jew.” There is so much malice in his voice that a wave of nausea hits you. “I’d have preferred for you to have become a common whore instead.” 

The moment you are alone again, you let the tears that have been building inside your chest go, embarrassment and sorrow escaping your throat as you start sobbing uncontrollably. Clutching your chest, you wail as you sink down on the floor with your back against the wall, your parents ignoring you as they barge in to rid your safe space from the documents you have been so carefully putting together over the past months.

Every time the ripping of parchment fills the room, you flinch and feel yourself sink deeper into humiliation. Once they are done, your mother holds out her hand to get you back to your feet whilst your father hauls the paperwork out of the room. “Pull yourself together, girl!” she orders, pushing you towards the altar, where she lights the candles that you had deliberately left extinguished, because you don’t feel like Jupiter deserves an altar like that. 

“Please, mother, I—” 

Your plea is in vain as she slams the door shut, the sound of the lock nearly inaudible over the ringing in your ears. With a blurry vision, you turn back to the altar to which you have been forced to pray. When commotion drifts from the open window, your attention is drawn to it, and you wipe your cheeks dry before you walk over to it, seeing how a large group of people crowds towards the other side of Capernaum, all whilst calling out that ‘He is here’, your heart tightening inside your chest.

What you would give to be there right now… But you are here, stuck inside your home, locked into your room by your own parents, who are supposed to love you unconditionally. Your eyes turn upwards to heaven under the sound of people cheering and rushing happily to witness Jesus’ miracles, and sudden bitterness grows inside your chest. 

“Is this what I get for trying to spread Your message?!” you mutter under your breath like a prayer, your brow furrowing angrily, “You know the plans I had for this, right? What I was going to do with all these documents? Why didn’t You do something to stop my parents? Has all my hard work for You been in vain?!” 

Enraged tears roll down your face and you step away from the window, your hands rubbing at your cheeks in a futile attempt to get rid of the wetness, and you sit down at your desk, where your parents have taken away all your writing materials to the very last pen, as if you could use it without an inkwell to begin with. 

“If You don’t want me to spread Your Word,” you utter, “All You needed to do was say so!” 

The sounds from outside grow louder and overpower the anger inside your veins. Curiosity gets the better of you and you walk over to it again, leaning on the windowsill to catch a glimpse of what might be going on outside. The crowd from earlier is moving through the streets, most likely to follow the Messiah Who is traversing the streets. 

There He is, His Disciples trying to keep a decent perimeter around Him lest He be pushed over, and you feel your breath hitch at the sight. You can barely count the people vying for His attention as Jesus is directed towards the other road, likely on another mission.

It is as if He senses you watching Him; there is no other explanation, as He looks to the right and lifts His eyes exactly into yours. That same sensation as the first time He looked at you hits you square in the chest and you stagger back physically, hand on your breast as you stumble into the altar to Jupiter, one of the candles falling over, the wax breaking in half as it extinguishes on the floor upon impact.

With a stuttering breath, it takes you a few moments to regain yourself, when red hot shame claws itself around your throat and you shrink against the wall, running a hand down your face, keeping it there until you’ve calmed down your hammering heart.

He saw you — He saw you — He saw… You… 

It is as if Jesus knew you were there, watching Him, as if He saw what just happened to you with a single glance… And as if He read your thoughts. 

Embarrassment knocks the air out of you, and your anger subdues into guilt.

That guilt consumes you for a while. 

You pretend to say your prayers as your parents keep a close eye on you. No matter how hard they try, they cannot keep the news about Jesus away from their household, seeing that the guards and other Roman citizens who have found a home in Capernaum cannot stop talking about Him, either. 

And even though you feel ashamed of how you had lashed out at God for letting your parents do this to you, you keep experiencing this inexplicable pull. 

You cannot stay away forever. One afternoon, after your father complained about Jesus’ influence and how it affected the townsfolk particularly much, you have had enough. Stuffing a few items into your bag, you sneak your way around the back of the house unseen, identity hidden by a cloak that is a few sizes too big. 

Instinctively, your feet carry you quickly through the town, and you keep your eyes peeled for any gathering crowds in the hopes of finding them around Jesus of Nazareth. 

However, you seem to not be the only one hard-pressed just to find out that Jesus is simply… Not around. Perhaps that a few people have pursued His followers in the hopes that they would lead them to Him, but to no avail. The Messiah is nowhere to be seen, making your dangerous mission redundant. 

You feel the smallest of tugs on the bottom of your cloak. When you look down, you see a tiny ball of jet black fur dancing over your feet. A scrawny kitten is vying for your attention and you cannot help but smile at it, crouching down to let it sniff your finger no matter how flea-infested the small creature might be. 

“Hello,” you murmur, “You aren’t afraid of humans, are you?” You let out a hum of adoration as it rubs its tiny face over your hand, but right as you are about to pet it, it hops away, turns and meows at you. You reach out for it, but it continues to walk off, although not without looking at you. “You’ve got a strong set of lungs in you, little guy,” you muse, “Alright then. Show me where you want to lead me.” 

Worry suddenly tugs at your heart when you follow the small animal into an alleyway. Perhaps that its mother has been injured by a wild dog or some other predator, or perhaps has gotten an infection and can thus not search for her kitten herself. Maybe that the baby cat is trying to bring you to help its mother, you think to yourself, wondering how far the intelligence of such animals truly runs or if it is just a coincidence—

—You freeze in your tracks as you see a figure seated against a wall. The kitten walks His way and hops into His lap, snuggling there together with its siblings as they are being petted with gentle hands. 

You know Who that is. Your lips part as you try to figure out whether you should say something or walk away, but Jesus looks up with a kind smile on His features. “Shalom,” He greets you, “I was already wondering if I’d meet you some day. I’ve been looking forward to it. I see that My little friend likes you, too.” 

The kitten who had found you on the streets earlier is meowing up at you and you scoop it up gently, letting it nuzzle against you, ignoring the tiny claws digging into your palms as it loudly purrs. You let out a soft laugh. Jesus hums and pats the spot next to Him. 

“Come,” He states, “Sit with Me. Look, the mother cat is so sweet, too.” 

You take a seat next to the Preacher with wobbly knees— Not only have you never spoken to Him, but you are also sitting so closely next to Him that your legs brush together. The feline in Jesus’ lap curiously eyes you, but head-butts your hand right after. You smile at the mother cat, who is nursing six other kittens. 

“How did seven tiny kittens ever fit inside of that small belly of hers?” you whisper in awe, and Jesus laughs at the beautiful wonder in your voice. 

“Well, that is just how God made it. The womb of an animal, or a human for that matter, is created just for that purpose.” 

You pet the kitten in your lap as it gently licks at your fingers. A brief silence falls between you and Jesus as you sit there for a while, cuddling with the animals that you had never expected someone like Him to even touch in the first place, seeing how filthy the fur is. 

“My name is (Y/n),” you introduce yourself.

Jesus nods. “I knew that. I’ve seen your face around sometimes, but then I stopped seeing it. What happened?” There is an edge to His voice that tells you He already knows, but if you’ve learnt anything from Jesus’ sermons, it is that He often wants things to be said out loud. 

You let out a sigh. “Well, obviously, I’m Roman.” You pull aside your cloak a bit to reveal your attire, causing Jesus to nod slowly. “Which is probably also evident in my accent.”

“I see.” 

You bite your lip and look at the kitten, feeling the anger that threatens to grow inside of you about God allowing your parents to be so strict with you subduing through the way the tiny cat innocently plays with your fingers as you wiggle them a bit. “I used to attend Your sermons and wrote down everything I learnt from You. I had it all figured out. I was going to show the written texts to my siblings, convince them of You as well, and eventually ask them to join me to convert our parents, too.” 

Jesus pulls a thoughtful face as He listens to your story. “What happened then?” 

“Well, my parents found out that I was writing about You, and locked me up in my room without any writing materials to continue my work. They… Destroyed everything I had documented about You. I don’t…” Your voice trails off as sudden tears spring into your eyes, no matter how cute the ball of fur inside your lap is. “I don’t understand why God would allow this. I was doing everything for Him, You know? To spread the message of His Kingdom, to convert others, to…” 

You swallow the lump in your throat, even though a few tears have slipped from your eyes already. You don’t want to cry right now.

“I see.” Jesus murmurs in such a soft voice that it almost offends you that He doesn’t sound more upset regarding your little emotional outburst. “And then?” 

“I stopped showing up.” 

“And your heart?” 

You turn to look at Jesus with widened eyes, feeling your heart skip a beat as you see how close He is sitting. It is as if He sees right into your soul, and perhaps, He does. 

“What about my heart?” 

“Did it continue to belong to Me?” 

The words hit you hard and you take a moment to recover. “I tried. But I don’t get it. Why would God allow my parents to be like this, why would He allow something like that to actively fight against Himself…” 

“God isn’t fighting Himself.” Jesus reminds you. When you look at him in confusion, He elaborates: “I know it might feel that way. Because He didn’t interfere, you feel like He is okay with what your parents did. Let Me tell you that He isn’t, and that you can still turn this around for good.” 

You shake your head a little, still not understanding it fully. 

“You see,” Jesus continues, “What you did is a beautiful thing for Me. You were so diligent in your writings and put everything together in such wonderful sentences. Your parents had to read these texts in order to see if they had to destroy it or not.” 

“Doesn’t that mean my work was in vain?” 

“No.” Jesus instantly replies, “Not at all. Because they’ve read the words that you’ve written to your heart’s content, because they’ve seen how much passion you’ve put on the parchment and how genuine that faith is… A seed has been planted inside them as well.” 

For a few beats, you process the words before responding. “But they still ripped apart my work.” 

“There is still a great evil in this world that doesn’t want your parents to see My Truth. It will do anything to make sure that others are led astray. However… Your work has only just begun.” 

The kitten crawls from your lap to its mother to drink, and you watch how it uses its tiny tail to balance itself. 

“How can I possibly carry on if I don’t have the materials—” 

“—This is not about the materials.” Jesus states, smiling softly. “This is about your heart.” He puts a hand on your shoulder. “(Y/n), whenever you read something from paper, you cannot see the expressions of the author, nor can you hear the passion in their voice. What your siblings and in turn your parents need is for you to speak to them.” 

You gulp. “But what if I forget one of Your teachings? I need to be ready to defend You in front of them. I mean, how else can I convert them?” 

“It is not up to you to convert someone.” Jesus kindly explains. “It is the Spirit Who does the convincing. All you can do is show them what I mean to you personally, and be a witness of the great works I’m doing. It is not your task to make someone believe in Me. It is up to themselves what to do with what you’re telling them. I just require a witness whose heart is so full of Me that they cannot help but speak about Me openly. Let them read the emotions on your face and figure things out themselves.” 

There is comfort in His words. It should not be an argument between you and your parents, nor a debate. All you have to do is just… Be a witness. Tell them about how Jesus changed your heart, and let God do the rest. 

“Can you do that for Me?” Jesus muses, “It is all I require.” 

Smiling at Him, you nod. 

“May I give you a hug?” Jesus asks, and you immediately wrap your arms around Him, causing Him to chuckle in amusement. “That’s a good hug.” The cat in His lap nuzzles herself into the embrace, causing you to pull away and laugh. 

The same black kitten who had found you earlier once again finds the comfort of your hands and Jesus hums gently. 

The mother cat lifts her head and sniffs all of a sudden, smelling something in the air. A barrel of fish is rolled by on its side and she leaps from Jesus’ lap to pursue it, her kittens running after her quickly. The one in your lap remains. 

“I think he likes you.” Jesus states, “Maybe you should bring him home.” 

You let out a small noise. “Oh, my parents wouldn’t like that.” 

“They make for great pest control.” Jesus muses, giving you a look that makes you chuckle. 

“I can’t take it away from its mother.” 

“I believe they are about to leave the nest very soon,” the Messiah tries to convince you, “I mean, they are about the age that they can take care of themselves. Their mother is close to rejecting them.” 

You hum and look at the tiny ball of fur in your lap. It was quite obvious, really, since the kitten had strayed away from its mother quite far by looking for you and leading you here. 

“Maybe I should give him a new home,” you state, causing Jesus to nod and smile softly. 

“That’s good. Do you have any idea what you might be naming him? Don’t say Jesus, that would be too easy.” 

You laugh at that. “Hey, that would have been my first choice!” 

Jesus shrugs and chuckles. “Well, what can I say? You’re a creative young woman. You can figure something out.” 

After a short quietness, Jesus speaks up. “Anyways, I think you should head home before you are missed. Meeting you has been a blessing for Me, (Y/n). Thank you for doing what you do for Me. Remember what I said. I hope to see you around soon, alright?” 

Reluctantly, you get to your feet, holding the black cat in your arms. “Thank You, too. I think we were meant to meet today, and this little guy helped us with that.” 

Jesus gets up, dusts down His tunic and takes a large backpack from the ground. “I’m sure of it,” He tells you, “Now, stay strong and courageous, just the way you already are.” 

With one last embrace, the two of you part. With the kitten in your hands, you exit the alleyway, heading back home with a certain spring in your step. 

The cat purrs and looks up at you with curious eyes and you look down at the small animal, already so fond of it. You aren’t sure how your parents will react to the sudden addition to the household, but you aren’t planning on letting the tiny creature go any time soon. 

With newfound fire inside your being, you walk up the steps to your home, the door already swinging open as your father has already seen you approach, an enraged look on his face. 

“(Y/n),” he hisses.

“Father,” you reply gently, a large smile spreading over your face.

“Where have you been?” His gaze snaps to the kitten in your hands. “Where did you get that thing?” 

You enter the home, closing the door behind you. With a confident smile, you look up at the grumpy man in front of you.

“If you fetch mater, I will tell you all about it.” 

[astray-anomaly]

I was bored and made a Ultrakill Gabriel x Ferryman one shot if anyone cares to read it. The Ultrakill brainrot is getting to me

https://archiveofourown.org/works/63510595

Fic text underneath

Gabriel landed on the ferry with a soft thud that made the worn wooden deck creek underneath his feet. He had been granted some free time which he didn’t know what to do with but he somehow ended up in Wrath on the Ferryman’s ship. He did visit often after saving them from the river Styx and grew quite fond of the sinner. However they were nowhere to be seen on the deck where Gabriel was usually greeted by them.

Possibly they were inside taking care of the passengers and the ship or simply just on a break. The Angel made his way inside, out of the pouring rain. He’d wish to shake the water out of his wings but he didn’t dare want to ruin the interior of the vessel which the Ferryman did so hard to keep comfortable for the souls aboard. Gabriel truly admired how kind they were despite being a sinner, he wished he could have some more of that himself as he lost his temper too quickly at times.

He dissipated his wings and walked through the corridors of the ship in hopes of finding the sinner who cherished him so much. Too much for their own good.

After wandering for minutes between the hallways there was still no sight of the Ferryman, perhaps they were in their cabin after all. He turned on his heel to head back to the direction of their quarters. He found the door cracked open but still knocked politely before opening it. “Charon?”

There was no answer and the husk seemed to be nowhere in the room. Bed and desk were empty, the canvas propped up in their painting corner of their room seemed unfinished. Gabriel stepped closer to the painting and realized it was another one of him. The amount of works the Ferryman made for him were always flattering and impressive.

He hovered his hand over the canvas, looking at the wings that were barely started. Some of the strokes looked harsher like they were a result of frustration. He then noticed the paint palette to the side with various mixes of blues that never seemed to get the shade of his wings just right. The Ferryman was always a perfectionist, especially when it came to making art depicting their savior.

Gabriel’s mind wandered, maybe he could help them with their paintings one day so they could get the color just right. Even if he didn’t care about the details being perfect he didn’t want his friend to stress over such small things. He knew they already had enough on their shoulders for taking the job of ferrying the souls of the damned around.

He turned away from the painting, right, he still needed to find where they were. He was growing worried until he remembered one place he hadn’t checked, his own quarters. The Ferryman had made a room for him a while ago so Gabriel could have longer stays instead of having to fly back to heaven. The room was the biggest the Ferryman could find, akin to their own room.

Gabriel opened the door to his cabin and looked around the room until his eyes settled upon the Ferryman who was sleeping in his bed. It was more like a nest now with all of the pillows and blankets Gabriel piled onto it. Gabriel sighed and approached the nest, looking down at the skeleton resting peacefully. It was hard to tell whenever they were actually asleep so he was careful with his movements so as to not wake them.

Did they really miss him that much to crawl into his bed while he was gone? He was not able to visit for a while. He carefully sat down on the edge of the bed, watching their chest rise and fall with each breath despite the fact their flesh and lungs had long been discarded. He didn’t question the logic of it.

He carefully got up again to take off the pieces of armor which were starting to get uncomfortable. The breastplate and pauldrons were especially the most annoying pieces. But with those parts of his armor finally off he got into the bed next to the Ferryman, letting his body relax into the mattress. It certainly wasn’t as soft as his bed in heaven but it was comfortable nonetheless. He appreciated that despite the scarce materials in Wrath the Ferryman still wished to give Gabriel the best comfort they could.

His head perked up when he heard the husk move in the bed, turning over so their covered face looked at Gabriel. Noticing the ashy dark skin with the white and gold armor. “My light?” Their voice was still heavy with sleep.

“Shhh, you can go back to sleep, my darkness.” He whispered, reaching out and gently rubbing their arm.

“Oh no you should have warned me- I- I should have been there to greet you-” They tried to sit up, looking around the room. “Oh my- I shouldn’t be in your room, I shouldn’t have been resting- I should-”

“Charon.”

They were cut off when Gabriel grabbed their wrists, grip gentle but firm. “Please, do not fret. You can rest here, I didn't mean to disturb your slumber.” He reached up to put a hand on the side of their clothed face. “You deserve a break for all of the work you have done.”

They didn’t resist when Gabriel pulled them back down on the bed. Holding them close so their body was against his, their head resting on his chest. They relaxed at the sound of the angel’s heartbeat while also trying to not panic at how close they were to him. “…Thank you, my light.”

The two held each other close, the Ferryman’s hands unconsciously feeling Gabriel’s skin, making the Angel quietly blush underneath his helmet. Gabriel hugged the Ferryman closer, summoning his wings again which were now dry. Wrapping them around both of them, the soft feathers brushing against the Ferryman’s bones. They looked at the wings in awe every time even if they saw them up close multiple times before.

His wings always reminded them of the sky when they were alive, the blue was so beautiful. Usually the Ferryman hated recalling their memories from earth or even of the times they still had flesh but this, they liked. They could stare into Gabriel’s wings forever, like their own sky. They didn’t need to make it to heaven to truly see it, all their heaven was right here in their arms.

Neither wanted to let go of each other, they didn’t need to speak, they just enjoyed each other’s company until sleep took them both.

Hours later the Ferryman had awoken again, still in Gabriel’s bed but the angel was nowhere to be found. They felt something in their hand and looked down, a blue shiny feather between their boney appendages. If they could physically smile then they would be.

They kept the feather close, this would be the perfect reference for their painting. They could finally get the color right.

Yet they wished that maybe their light could be there for a real reference. It’d be an honor to have Gabriel help with one of their paintings one day.

But for now they had to be patient.