#i have to deal w family shit and my own brain being fucked up and all of this too i can't

[starry-toya]

I'm fucking cryiny

[cybershock24601]

My most unhinged and for the drama post canon Rookanis scenario is where Rook accidentally gets pregnant post the first night she and Luccanis spend together because they're both virgins, Rook's not on any contraceptive, and the final battle is happening pretty much right after so remembering to take the fantasy morning after pill kinda gets lost in the shuffle and it basically results in Lucanis speedrunning ditching the Crows to become the Ultimate Househusband.

The way I typically imagine post canon Rookanis going down is Rook moving in with Lucanis and her relationship with Caterina slowly worsening over months and years because while Caterina probably starts pretty neutral on Rook, she just does not vibe with Rook's personality and considering she's a paranoid old woman, does not like the influence this outsider has on her grandson or the sort of support Rook has unintentionally built up amongst the Crows during the whole, let's kill these evil elven gods fiasco. Sure Caterina named Lucanis First Talon but its pretty clear a lot of the power is supposed to remain in her guiding hand and Rook is an unknown and chaotic variable fucking with her plans.

Rook on the other hand goes in ready to do her best to build a good relationship with Caterina for Lucanis' sake but starts souring on Caterina the more she learns about Lucanis and Illario's childhoods and is like, no wonder shit went so sideways, which combined with Caterina's increasingly passive aggressive behavior, Rook is only being civil because she is not willing to cause more problems in Lucanis' already fucked up family but its not like Rook is taking Caterina's jabs without getting in a few of her own.

On top of that, despite Caterina's personal dislike of Rook, she's also pushing for Lucanis and Rook to marry and start pumping out great grandbabies to repopulate House Dellamorte. While Rook is more then willing to marry Lucanis, the more Rook learns about how Caterina raised Lucanis and Illario and just about the Crows in general, she starts getting a lot of reservations about raising any child of hers in such a fucked up environment. Meanwhile Lucanis is aggressively Not Thinking About It because while he can justify the treatment he received growing up, thinking about raising his children the way he was would probably break his brain a little because its a little hard to ignore how fucked up and traumatic your own childhood is when you have to confront how much that would fuck up and traumatize someone else.

So instead of these issues growing worse and worse over the years until they completely bubble over, Rook and Lucanis have to pretty immediately confront the realities of raising a family in the Crows and by the time the kid is 6 months old Rook has enough of a grasp of what this kids future will look like in the Crows and Lucanis has had to confront continuing the cycle of abuse he was born into and they just mutually come to the decision that they need to GTFO now.

Also maybe throw in a rival Talon trying to smother this future First Talon before they have chance to grow for a little extra drama and to force Lucanis to confront the same choice Caterina did on whether the seat of First Talon is worth sacrificing his family and the answer is obviously a resounding No.

And this is all without accounting for Spite and how he would react to Rook being pregnant because I'm sure that's probably an insane concept for a spirit or how Spite would deal with this new tiny person that's half-Lucanis and half-Rook. Not to mention whatever inevitable over dramatic reaction Illario has to becoming an uncle while trying to patch up his relationship with Lucanis after the whole 'attempting to have Lucanis killed to take the position of First Talon' thing. Lots of room for comedy here to balance out how fucked up the rest of this story is.

Anyways all this ends with Lucanis and Rook traveling around for a few years to keep the Crows off their tail because I doubt Lucanis would be able to easily leave without some reprisal before they eventually quietly settle down in the Necropolis. Which serves as great security because I like the idea of magical semi sentient locations and I don't think the Necropolis would let any Crow assassins reach its Crypt Baby or Crypt Grandbaby

[moriitis]

What would Toby do with a person with Lyra's exact appearance? Let's say they also have a similar personality. (Of course there would be no comparison)

I don't know how Toby would take it or what he would do and I'm really curious, seriously, I'm crazy.

WHY DO YOU GIVE ME ALL THESE SAD ASS ASKS OH MY GOD MY SHAYYYLAAA

Alright, I seriously fucking love this ask though, like so, so, so much. Thank you Anon for breaking my heart. I, too, am crazy about Toby and Lyra's relationship.

Content/Warnings; car accidents, mentions of abuse, alcohol, death, detailed descriptions of corpses, blood, brain matter, globe luxation (eyes popping out of sockets), vomit, bruises, stuttering, murder.

I guess to start this shit off, we better go back in time a little to talk about their relationship as siblings during the time Lyra was alive.

Their parents were deadbeat. I'll say it over and over again. Now don't get me wrong, Connie hated seeing her children living in poverty and being abused by their father, but you gotta remember Connie was a victim too. Abusive relationships SUCK and it's even worse when there are children involved because it makes it so much harder leaving. Did Connie allow the abuse to happen? On some times, yes, she did - because a part of her really believed that she loved this man, she wanted things to work and kids were.. well, they deserve a little slap here and again, right? I see a bitterness between Lyra and Connie because Lyra gets so angry at the fact that Connie sits and allows this to happen. Now when big fights did break out, like punching, screaming, things smashing and the cops being called, Connie did step in and try to calm her husband. Unfortunately, her husband was a heavy drinker and his father abused him, so drinking is his coping method to deal with his own abuse and trauma.

Due to having such an absent and useless mother, Lyra stood up and took the role to care for Toby at the young age. In fact, when Connie announced she were pregnant with Toby, Lyra cried so much because she knew how shit their family life was and it was unfair to bring a baby up in a situation they get no say in.

Lyra would dress Toby for school, make breakfast and ensured they both got the school bus on time. (During the time he still attended public schooling.)

She would 100% defend him in situations at school the best she could. Lyra wasn't particularly popular either, so really she took most the verbal abuse directed toward her brother.

After Toby got pulled for home schooling, she'd always feel so disgustingly anxious being on that school bus alone - without him.

She'd call the home phone almost every hour making sure he was okay.

Thankfully their father worked at a factory during the day, so she knew Toby was okay with their Mom who was a stay at home.

Despite everything, she was a bubbly and happy character, mostly because as she got older she got more freedom to stay away from home.

Lyra was a bit of a party animal, very social and had a nice group of friends.

She would not come back home for times on end, preferring to sleep on the couch at a friends just to avoid home.

But then she felt too guilty leaving Toby alone and would come back.

On the weekends, Lyra would take Toby with her to hang out with her friends! Her friends loved Toby, despite his tics.

They'd hang out at the mall a lot, which actually secured Lyra her first little job working in a clothing store her friend also worked at.

Which meant she earnt money to spoil Toby.

Like taking him to the arcades, bowling.

They went to the cinema once, which was a bad mistake because they came home too late and their father was still awake.

"Lyra.. are yo-oo..u awake?" Called a soft voice, a voice that lingered by the frame of her door. The light from the hallway illuminated the figure, casting shadows over her body that was outstretched on her bed. It was a familiar voice, a voice that made her turn almost instantly to glance over at the little brunette who was lingering by the door, his fingers hooked around the wood. Her door was only open a fraction but softly it pushed open a little, allowing more light to enter her dark room. She sat up, her fingers caressing the bare mattress below her as she forced a welcoming smile. It wasn't that she was unhappy or annoyed by Toby's presence, of course not - it was just the ache in her head that almost pulsated around her skull as she sat up.

"Hey you, no, I'm actually asleep," she teased softly, stifling her chuckle as she pulled her knees up close to her chest. It was always so cold in this house.

"Oh, should I go?" Toby replied much softer than before, already pulling away from the doorframe and descending back into the hallway.

Lyra rolled her eyes and scrunched up her brows. "Go?" she repeated, tilting her head to the side a little. The pain vibrated around her head, squeezing her skull and holding her brain captive. The pain was only temporary. "What's wrong?" she asked after a beat, wanting to capture his attention before he disappeared quietly down the creaky hall. Silence loomed over the two of them as Toby glanced back at Lyra, his brows twisted in concern as his fingers fiddled with the hem of his shirt anxiously.

"Did he-he-h... he hh-hurt you bad?" Toby finally spoke, those words so harsh despite the innocence in his voice. His words weighed heavy, so heavy even that her shoulders dropped a little at the question. Toby shouldn't have seen that, admittedly it was her fault for bringing them home so late.

So, with a little scoff, she shook her head softly although instinctively, her hand raised against the little bump on her head. It had stopped bleeding, thankfully, but the cut and bruise still felt fresh and raw. "No," she sounded convincing. "See? I'm fine." Lyra lied through her teeth, no, she wasn't fine.

Toby wasn't convinced and before he spoke, a grunt coming from their parents room frightened him closer toward Lyra's bed. She outstretched her arms out toward him a little, accepting him and acting as a barrier for any of his worries and fears. "He's asleep," Lyra reassured him and herself, her voice nothing but a whisper and Toby quietly climbed onto her bed. When did Toby get so big? A lump in her throat formed just looking at him.

His brown eyes darted toward her outstretched arms and he hesitated before slowly leaning his body against her own. It wasn't a proper hug, oh dear, no, Toby was too big for those now apparently but Lyra was satisfied to have him close to her regardless. Only if it were nothing but a shoulder.

-

Now, obviously we are aware that Lyra died in a car crash and I just HC that she reason she swerved and crashed into that tree was because she saw Slender on the road and it startled her so much. Toby always thought that it were a deer or something she tried to avoid - he knew how much she loved her animals.

-

"So, anyway, I told Abby that Jason was obviously just going after her because its Jason, he goes after everyone in school! But Abby didn't believe me and now she's all upset and mad at everyone but not Jason for breaking her heart?" Lyra groaned, hands gripped securely around the steering wheel as she vented away to her younger brother who sat behind her in the passenger seat. He was always a good listener and Lyra secretly knew he loved hearing all this gossip. For a brief moment, she glanced at the rear view mirror to Toby. He was exceptionally quiet today, arms crossed over his chest as he gazed aimlessly out the window. Her lips pursed at the sight, curiosity at what could possibly be plaguing her brother's mind? "Hey, you listening?" she asked, shooting occasional glances between the road and the brunette in the back.

Toby's brows furrowed for a moment, almost in irritation before his gaze softened upon connecting with Lyra. It wasn't often her looked at her in such a way and she raised a brow slightly, watching as closely as she could while also focusing on the road ahead.

The road ahead was quiet, no traffic, just them and the forest that surrounded them. The faint mumble of the radio, Lyra's music of course - Paramore more notably playing.

"Yeah," Toby choked out slowly, clearing his throat and shuffling in his seat as he tried to rearrange his thoughts and remember what Lyra was even blabbering about prior. She knew he were lying though and narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously, although she were just teasing.

"Liar," she pointed an index finger up at him before chuckling a short chuckle. Toby's lip curled a little at the corner but other than that, he remained quiet. Lyra knew Toby wasn't himself, not anymore, sure he was getting older and moodier - but his mental health played a lot into that too.

"I'm ssorry, j-just thinking about th-"

"What the fuck?!"

The smell of gas burned within his nostrils as he awoke to nothing but a fuzzy haze. Whatever the fuck happened, he wasn't sure, but now the car was flipped upside down. He blinked once, twice, trying to make sense of things as he glanced up. His blood coated the interior roof of the car, shit he must've cut his head up pretty bad - thankfully he couldn't feel shit though. The radio was still playing, filling the silence as the indicators ticked and the car groaned with each move Toby made.

"You are the only exception, you are the only exception~" the radio continued to play Paramore and sat atop the roof was Lyra's IPod that was still connected.

"Lyra-" Toby grumbled groggily as he went to reach out to the tuffs of blonde that poked out from beside the airbag. His seatbelt, still secured, restricted him and he fought against it for a moment as his main focus was on his sister. "Lyra, speak to me-" he grumbled through gritted teeth as his hands helplessly began to find the buckle of his belt, clicking it out and dropping him down onto the roof of the car with a loud thud. He could feel the air thickening around him as he tried to navigate around the carnage, upside down to help his sister. His heart was beating a million beats per second as he army crawled as close as he could to Lyra, the whole bonnet of the car practically enveloping a tree in a cold, metallic hug.

"Lyra," he repeated through gritted teeth, holding his breath at the thought of being alone out here in a wrecked car, his anxiety clawing at his very skin as he slowly craned his head around to the drivers seat. "Please talk to me, please-" he begged softly, hand reaching out slowly to brush a tuff of her blonde hair away from her face.

Lyra remained motionless, unresponsive and Toby hoped and begged and prayed to any God that perhaps she was just unconscious. "Wake up, Lyra, come on- you have to wake up now-" he began, his shaky hand making its way to her shoulder to shake her softly. The sister was limp and only moved softly from his violent shaking.

Her head was pressed against the airbag, her blood crimson red compared to the white of the bag. He could hear the insane amount of blood gushing from her and onto the pedals below her which made him almost heave. With one final push on her shoulder, her head fell toward his direction and her blonde hair fell down from her face, exposing the horror before him.

Her face, her beautiful face, untouched one side and her skull caved in on the other. The brain matter that ran down her face, her eye that was almost bulging out from her socket. The inside of her skull was empty, the rest of her brain had slipped out and fallen down her shoulder and torso. Her mouth hung agape, her other intact eye half lidded but her iris still enlarged in the shock she endured before the crash. Her torso was also caved in but her ribs poked out through her skin, exposing her vital organs through her blood soaked, cotton tank top.

Toby could only scream as he scrambled back into the passenger seat, desperately trying to get away from his sister. His hands grabbed helplessly at anything that could push him further away from Lyra, his fingers grazing the glass beneath him and slicing his skin open. His screaming was interrupted by the sudden urge to vomit as he clamped a hand over his mouth in a desperate attempt to stop the flow of acid, although it were already spewing past his blood fingertips. Choking and spluttering on the warmth of his vomit, he hacked up and spat out the rest of the taste that remained in his mouth before clutching a handful of his clothing within the fist of his hand.

"No, no, no, please, Lyra, no-" he sobbed helplessly against hitched breaths, trying to make sense of this nightmare. That perhaps this wasn't real, it couldn't be because how could he live without her? So, slowly, plucking up any courage he could find, he crept back toward Lyra and gently caressed her cheek. She was still warm. "Stop messing, Lyra, you can- you can- can- can get up now! Wake up! Wake the fuck up!" he was yelling at the corpse, shaking her violently before collapsing onto her lap. He didn't care about the blood nor brain, he wanted her to hug him again.

Toby cried into her lap, taking her arm and forcing it around him as he cuddled her corpse. Laying there for hours until a passer-by came across them.

-

Alright, you guys have the feels?! Now, back to the ask. After this traumatic event, how would Toby feeling seeing someone that looked like Lyra? And, oof, punch in the gut, this person also having the exact same personality? Yikes.

At first, he wouldn't believe it. He would either think its an hallucination or that he's dreaming because he knows that she is dead, shit, he saw it himself. Honestly, at first I think he'd be a little angry because it's like all that grief and trauma came and just slapped him right there and then.

He'd accuse this person and lash out, saying things like. "You think this is funny?!" "What are you doing?!" Just really bitter and mean, mostly a mechanism to try and cope really. He'll think this is a whole ploy to try and trick him or something.

There'd also be a part of him that really craves being embraced by this person too, like he wants to caress their cheek and touch their hair. Like he genuinely cannot believe that this is real.

Then once that anger has simmered down, he'd bite back the tears. Stepping away and going nonverbal, disappearing for a couple months to try and 'forget.' He'd cry like a little bitch too, calling himself stupid for leaving in the first place.

Then he'd come back, either really dissociated or really attached to this person. He'd crave their attention, despite it being so bittersweet and he'll be angry if this person says something that Lyra wouldn't say, you know?

NOW

If we are talking about a VICTIM HE WAS SUPPOSED TO KILL LOOKING LIKE LYRA- shit, that's a different story.

At first he'd hesitated, the hatchet motionless above his head, mid-swing as she stares down at the girl before him. Crying, sobbing and he would literally stop working. He wouldn't know what to do, he would freeze and just stand there staring at her in disbelief. Then he'd drop the hatchet with a loud clutter and fall to his knees before the girl, his shoulders and body shaking as muffled sobs begin to emerge from him.

This girl, who nearly just fucking died, could do two things. Knock him the fuck out or comfort him thinking that maybe it would spare her life. I think depending on what she does, if she were to comfort him, Toby would probably either push her away or embrace her touch and cry into her lap. If she were to attempt to knock him out, I think it would stir him a little back to life and he'd quickly just jump into action in an attempt to control himself and the situation.

Now obviously, he will NOT murder her. No, he couldn't - so he grabs his things and leave. Which is so, so, so bad and could get him into so much shit with Slender but I think in that moment, he doesn't care.

[angelicalbones]

Complaining about my ex

I don't know why a post of someone being hugged tight sent me into a tailspin but it just reminded me of the last time I had dropped my ex off at the airport. I got him completely organized and ready to go, took him alls far as I could and even tho we were separated at this point I gave him a tight hug and a kiss bc he gets extremely anxious traveling alone. And I didn't mind I did it completely willingly I even offered bc I could tell he wanted to ask for it.

And then I remembered how I drove myself to the airport every time. I had to deal w the stress and anxiety all alone. Organize expensive Ubers or pay over $100 in parking. He never once offered to take me.

The one and only time I remember asking him outright if he could take me bc we were literally 5 minutes from the airport I got punished for waking him up. I was relying on him to wake up on time to drive the 5 god damn minutes to the airport so I could go spend the holidays alone w my family bc he never fucking visited my family with me and he yelled at me. He stayed up insanely fucking late the night before and told me to leave him the fuck alone so he could sleep.

Even his shit head of a father(we were living w his dad at the time) was shocked and confused that he wasn't driving me. I told him my ex just wasn't feeling well so I was gonna take an Uber no big deal.

And then his dad was the one who fucking picked me up when I got back.

I bent over backwards to always be there for my ex even in extremely simple ways like driving and picking up from the airport bc that's just what you do for a friend or partner if ur able to! That's just how I feel and operate.

And yet I never

Ever

Got that energy back

I don't know how much I have to chalk up to well two different people have two different sets of standard operations and how much I can be like wow I feel consistently fucking neglected bc I never get half the fucking energy I put into this relationship back.

I couldn't even get him to run errands for me. I had to do them all. And usually I had to do them completely alone. And God forbid I forget something bc I have fucking swiss cheese brain thanks to physical and mental illnesses. I got in trouble for that shit too and would have to immediately turn around and retrieve whatever it is I forgot.

I convinced myself we had an equal partnership for years and we didn't. Sure he paid one month of rent, two utility bills, and moving costs. I feel ashamed I ever EVER had to rely on him financially and fucked up so bad I cost him so much.

He barely ever kept the house clean on a day to day basis. Never ran errands. Never did anything by himself so if he wanted to do something I was the chauffer. Never managed travel for cons that was all me. Never coordinated groups bc again that was all me. Never set up a single bill. I'm the one who got us into nearly every place we lived until florida. Even then the only place he "handled" was the last house and I'm still the one who set up the lease, the utilities, and everything else.

He just bought me trinkets and talked about all the cool things he wanted to do but couldn't bc I was financially draining him.

My life was falling apart bc of him. Of course I was making my own decisions and own fuck ups but he set the stage I proceeding to fall off of.

What is it like to be actually loved and supported. Is that even real? Am I even worthy / capable of it?

Fucking Christ this was such a spiral I wasn't expecting I'm exhausted.

I just can't handle thinking the past 8 years of my life were a fucking lie. But it's starting to feel like it was.

[delta0003]

Egotober2024- PUPPET 1

…ody…Mr.brody can you hear me, chase woke with a start and an immediate headache W-what where am i? Who are you?” My name is not important mr.brody” How do you know my name?” that is also not important mr.brody all you need to know is that you’re at an IRIS containment facility because eyewitnesses saw you appear out of thin air on a parking garage roof and you showed sign of high level anomaly aggression when said eyewitnesses tried to stop you from jumping’. What? No, I was in the middle of the woods in the mountains to be honest, I was just going for a walk to clear my head”. 

And does going for a walk to clear my head involve a BAC of 0.15% mr.brody”? Uh well n-no i suppose it doesn't i gu-” No mr.brody it does not in the slightest what you did was ideotic and reckless what were you thinking, you have a family to take care of a son that is waiting for you and what about your wife sta”- *slam*DON'T BRING UP THAT WOMAN’S NAME IN FRONT OF ME AGAIN AND KEEP MY FAMILIAL ISSUES OUT OF YOUR GOD DAME MOUTH…c̶a̸u̵s̶e̶ ̴t̶h̸e̵ ̴n̴e̶x̵t̷ ̷t̶i̵m̵e̴ ̸t̷h̸a̷t̷ ̸y̷o̵u̷ ̸d̴o̷ ̵I̸'̸l̶l̷ ̷r̶i̶p̸e̸ ̶y̴o̶u̴r̵ ̸f̵u̵c̶k̵i̶n̶g̴ ̵t̵h̵r̸o̶a̴t̵ ̶o̵u̶t̴ ̶a̸n̴d̷ ̵f̶e̴a̷s̵t̸ ̷o̵n̸ ̷i̶t̶ ̴w̵h̴i̴l̸e̵ ̴y̵o̸u̵ ̸s̵l̷o̶w̷l̴y̸ ̷b̸l̶e̵e̵d̶ ̵o̴u̵t̸ ̴w̶i̴s̴h̵ing ̶f̸o̸r̸ ̶a̷ ̴m̸o̶r̸e̴ ̶m̷e̵r̸c̸i̵f̵u̵l̴ ̶d̴e̶a̸t̸h̷=[̵cause the next time that you do I'll ripe your fucking throat out and feast on it while you slowly bleed out wishing for a more merciful death].

Robotic voice:anomaly detached initiating level 2 threat neutralizer. Da hell that mean shit for brains”. It means you're gonna be in dreamland soon”.what’? In a flash chase felt a sharp pain in the back of his neck Ow what the hell? Chase removed the tiny needle from his neck inspecting it and the tiny droplets of blood that came with it “heh  what was this little pinwheel needle supposed to do i dont feel a da-chase vision blackened before he could even finish his sentence processing with 2000ma’s for level 2 threat has been neutralized “fuck this i cant handle ALTR-114209-C on my own im gonna need reinforcement *sighs* hey camera page dr.hansen tell him i have a new case for him to deal with and also page him about everything that has happened in this room and ALTR-114209-C case file. Am I understood!? Yes dr. Jackson. Good and also one more thing have subject under 24/7 hour surveillance and put in one of those retro mood analyzing cameras. Yes Dr.Jackson will That be all. Yes that will all..now if you excuse me I have to report THIS THING to the higher ups. 

*sometime later* Listen hansen i don't care how many patients you have already this certain case is out of my league of expertise plus you owe me favor. Ugh fine I’ll take your case if you just stop pestering me about it and leave my office”. THANK you hansen you're a lifesaver. Yea yea just get of here before i change my mind. Also one more thing Dr. hansen. Hm? Be careful with him I don't know if the cams caught it but…when I was talking to him when he started getting agitated hes eyes changed I dont how but they did, i-it was like he was a completely different person, like he was being possessed or even controlled like a puppet on strings it was down right disturbing..well whatever that was i hope to never experience that again anyways ill leave you too it hansen I’ll see you around maybe get a coffee and some of that continental IRIS lemon surprise cake ive been hearing about heh-heh'.

[here-be-misfit]

A rant about my sister and her inability to understand me and my issues (especially mental health stuff). Putting in under "read more" because it's gonna be huge wall of text.

I think after meeting i had yesterday with my sister i am really sure, like 100% that she is nowhere near better than the rest of this dysfunctional family. Yes she might understand SOMETHING better but that's about it.

First of all, she absolutely invalidates me, doesn't believe i have trauma and tries to downplay it. "Everyone has some traumatic experiences"... Yea right... But not everyone gets to be severely mentally ill. Every time i tried to bring trauma as a cause for stuff she'd say something like "maybe BUT it could be...". I haven't talked with anyone who tried this fucking hard to downplay my trauma and abuse. Usually people say upfront and it is easier to deal with those and with how my sister does it. Also the fact that she believes that there aren't healthy people and everyone has some sort of mental issues says a lot because she literally downplays how severely mentally ill i am. Maybe it's her projecting or maybe it's just her brain trying to save her from her own shit idk. But it fucking sucks.

Of course i wasn't surprised when she didn't understand bpd even when i tried to explain splitting and shit. Not surprised because most people in this fucking country has no knowledge of bpd or of personality disorder in general. When i tried to explain it, her response was "but your personality is great and who cares if it's disordered and why it has to be like that". BITCH IT'S BECAUSE I HAVE FUCKING PERSONALITY DISORDER THAT'S WHY. 🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️ Idk why it's so hard to understand that personality disorders exist and idk why it's so hard to understand the concept of it. Then after i explained splitting she was like "well even people without disorders and mental health issues can be driven to do crazy shit and act in similar ways". 🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️ Then she absolutely does not understand what disassociation is and how it feels because what she described from her side isn't disassociation but more like bottling up emotions and stuff.

Then what really makes me so fucking angry and annoyed is how she said that she knows me so well. NO SHE DOESN'T. We barely talk on daily basis, we mostly meet during holidays or random occasions like this. She lives not with me and bitch mother anymore. How can she actually know me when we barely talk. That's right she can't. But wait, oh, i fucking forgot that she as also the rest of this dysfunctional family bases their knowledge on kid and teenage me and fails to update this version they have of me to current me so of course they think they know me well... 🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️ I fucking hate this shit.

And then the biggest and most annoying thing about that whole meeting and conversation with her is how she magically knows every single solution to every single mental health issue. And that solution is to write. 😂😂😂😂😂🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️ Yes, apparently if you write you will heal and shit and find every solution and it will also heal you from personality disorders and depression and ptsd and everything. 😂😂😂😂😂 Fucking hell. And what is even worse is how pushing she was about it. Like ok, I'd understand a suggestion of it but being pushy and forceful about your suggestion is absolutely wrong way to make someone even consider taking your suggestion or trying it out.

So yea, this is basically watered down version of what happened because there's so much shit I've heard from her. I was really expecting that she might have changed or something but i guess i expected too much from this shit family. And somehow i feel that i am only one sane and understanding person in this family so of course i am a black sheep. I do hope that she won't have any kids because this family and this fucking curse and shit needs to die.

I don't know maybe some of this was my fault, maybe i haven't explained well, i mean i suck at explaining and shit so maybe if it was someone else explaining stuff to her, maybe she would have understood better. 🤷‍♀️

[malcolm-reeds-pineapple]

OKAY IVE HIT SOME BAD NEWS BEARS okay so I’ve been planning on breaking up w my long term partner for a long time but I haven’t seen them face to face in almost a year. I was determined to do this face to face because it’s the honourable thing to do (and I have a lot of shit at their house) I decided I was tired of them back in April for a whole host of reasons but I’ll boil it down to a few:

Poor communication (never used to tell me things until everything boiled over biyearly)

Doesn’t deal with problems head on. If I have a problem I take the bull by the horns and deal with it. They, on the other hand, never had that skill and often took an apathetic approach to things which led to people making decisions for them.

No sense of adventure. I love adventures, I love taking risks, I love rolling the dice to see what Lady Luck has in store for me that day. They never did and would just send me out to go on adventures of my own. I’ve since learned that I want to share my adventures with someone. I want to have some one to yes-and me and vice versa while we get ourselves into trouble.

Unemployed for over 2 years with no real reason. Piggy backing on this, they moved back in with their parents in the middle of nowhere and doesn’t have the will to learn to drive.

No discernible drive to get better at living their life. In fact they repeatedly shot themselves in the foot. Absolutely no fire under their ass and it drove me insane.

Not once did they make an effort to meet any of my friends, not even my day ones.

Our goals no longer align. When we first started dating, I said that I didn’t want to have kids or get married but yeah no now that I’m older and my brain is developed and I know who I am as a person, I really fuckin wanna get married and have kids!!!! Not immediately or anything but god dammit I wanna be with someone who wants what I want long term!!!

Anyway my partner told me they were trans yesterday which I’m very supportive of and I hope being out will maybe help them improve as a person. I can’t imagine the kind of mental turmoil they’ve been going through their whole life with fundamentalist family while being closeted like that. However this didn’t magically fix all of the reasons I’ve wanted to end it with them since fucking April. It didn’t add onto the list or anything, but now I’m worried that if I break up with them they’ll think it’s because they’re trans :( I’m writing them a letter to make sure everything is abundantly clear but I’m not sure it’ll do anything :/// like how long should I wait to break up w them?? I’m really worried that this will hurt them and it’s not my intention we’re just straight up the worst possible match. I guess I never should have waited but we’ve lived 6 hours away from each other for a year and a half and before that we lived 2 hours away from each other for 6 months after we fucking lived together and shared a bed. I really just wanted to give them the decency of a face to face break up instead of just sending them a text or calling them. I was gonna go this Monday to do it like I’m freaking out

[cheemken]

Knight I just had a big brain moment (I hope). I was thinking about what AU I could create and then I started thinking about Unova characters, mainly N, Iris, and Ghetsis. Then it hit me

What if Iris, alongside N, was raised by Ghetsis?

Idk how they’d meet, whether it’s in Unova or Ghetsis just happened to be in Johto before she got adopted, but they do end up meeting through Ghetsis’ Hydregion who was a Zweilous at the time. I imagine Zweilous ran away from Ghetsis after another attempt to force him to evolve early, and when he goes to look for his Pokémon Ghetsis finds him with Iris. And he was just going to return Zweilous to his pokeball before leaving but.. the Deino line are infamous for being one of the hardest to raise, and here was a young child who calmed down a Zweilous she just met. The more Ghetsis looked at the girl who had calmed down a raging dragon type with the touch of her hand and a few words, did he realized how much control she had in the situation

How she was almost in control of Zweilous

How she was controlling a powerful Dragon Type

I imagine N was a cover, a distraction, for Iris. So the League would focus on him and not on Iris, who infiltrated the league as a gym leader and then the Champion. Her job was to give all the private information to Ghetsis and help destroy it from the inside

Screaming crying punching the wall throwing the absolute fuck up omfs Iris being Queen of Plasma

THATS DOPE THOOO CBMXBCMD oughhhhh Iris and N siblings REAL😭😭

God but Ghetsis having to deal w two kids who can talk to pkmn, one was just limited to Dragons, and he calls both of them freaks and god my heart can't take that but like cjxmcbmxnxmd OUGGGHHHHHH

But also man that must be rough for N tho bc knowing Ghetsis he probs made it really clear to N that he would just be there as a diversion, as a shield, for his own sister who their father has greater plans for than him. His sister was going to be a hero, and he wasn't opposed, she was nice to him, but damn he also sees how shit Ghetsis treats them and Iris probably still believed he genuinely cares bc for most of their lives he was the only one who showed an ounce of care for them

God fucking imagine tho, just as they got the stone of Zekrom/Reshiram, it didn't respond to Iris, rather it responded to N. And even Ghetsis was surprised. He was so sure, so fucking sure, that Iris would be the one to call out the Dragon, she had proven herself time and time and time again that she was a strong and capable Dragon master, that she could speak to them, that she could control them. And yet the legendary dragon did not listen to her.

Ghetsis was pissed, no this wasn't the plan, it was supposed to listen to Iris, it was supposed to recognize Iris as the Hero of Truth/Ideals, not N. Well, he just has to make do w what he has, N still listened to him, N still believed their cause was good, so he attacked Hil w his new Dragon. But man imagine how that'd fuck up Iris too cjmxbxmx

Like homegirl was led to believe she was going to be the one who'd Zekrom/Reshiram see as a hero, not her brother. But watching her brother command the dragon, watching her brother be beaten by the other hero, she doesn't know what to feel anymore. Before Ghetsis could even show her how pissed he was, she ran away, leaving behind Plasma, leaving behind her family.

Hiding was easy for Iris, she and N loved hide and seek, she always won. So she hid. Hid from the people of Unova, from Drayden, from N, from Ghetsis especially. She got to Lacunosa, hid within the Giant Chasm, and to her surprise she saw a slumbering dragon within the cave.

Kyurem. He said his name was. He was lonely.

Iris stayed w him ofc, stayed w him for two years, until Ghetsis found her. She was scared, terrified at what he'd do to her, but he knelt before her, giving her praises at finding a legendary dragon, especially since Kyurem was shown to be protective of Iris, having grown attached to her, despite not being held captive by a pokeball.

Ghetsis' plan failed two years ago, but w Kyurem under Iris' control, and w Iris still fearing him, still the most obedient child, he's sure he won't fail this time.

[skinni-girls-eat-books]

Sunday, December 17th

Lololol I'm acting totally crazy rn.

Pros of telling her:

She might break up with him leaving him to be a single POS

I would feel like an evil queen who rules the land

I would get some revenge on that pos (both)

Possibly help her from wasting her time (nice)

Cons:

They would both hate me probably forever

Trauma bond is real and it might make them closer together bc they're both so fucked up

His family might hate me for being a crazy bitch and possibly making him lose his mind which would effect them negatively because they would have to take care of him full time (ok actually this is the winner, I'm glad I wrote this out)********

****** this is the right answer bc on God I want that poor woman and her cranky sweet old man husband to just damn retire already, retire from having to raise their adult children AND grandchildren. Let them rest please this is what I pray for ❤️

Also:

I really don't have to do shit, he is fully capable of fucking this shit up himself it is simply a matter of time (if she has half a brain)

I really don't have to do this shit bc I have no intention of getting back together with him (for the aforementioned reasons in other posts) and have lost all respect and trust for him (he is literally a fucking joke)

If she has literally 0 no brain: then they are perfect together! I hope that one day I stalk his page and see them having 4 babies in a crack shack on W street, because they are "just chill like that" and being a ghetto dickhead is still cool when you can't do anything actually interesting or meaningful with your life, blissfully in love while they teach their kids to roll their weed, never take them to the aquarium or museums or on trips bc they were so self-centered when they were young that now they are dealing with the consequences 10 yrs later. Trust me, I don't think less of these ppl who are forced into these situations, but when you're given multiple chances to do better and you just don't, then I just don't respect your choices and truly think you must have rotted your brain out with shrooms or LSD or Xanax or fucking whatever.

Let's sayyyyyy they actually are great people (they aren't) they get engaged, get married, start a family, move into their own home, love each other unconditionally, admit to their past mistakes, agree to couple's counseling, put their kids in the best schools, have the best jobs, and go on regular date nights..... They have the perfect life. What's the con, you ask?

There is no con, I'll be living my best life rarely giving them a thought, like a random drop of rain on a perfectly sunny day, I'll have a thought, and then, right back to status quo 😎

Edit: 12/26/23

Remember what Faith said: Do you want to raise children with him? Do you want your kids to act like him when they grow up? Because he would be their role model. 😶😳🤯

Literally my best friend in the whole world I love her

[mokutone]

If you’re still doing the ask game, can I get stuff about Shino? I love your brain 😍

ahh sure, sure

favorite thing about them —i like that he's so annoyed when people forget about him, and yet he doesn't really go out of his way to interact with people. he does things on his own terms and at his own pace but he still considers the people around him very affectionately, and is hurt when they don't seem to reciprocate his quiet attentions.

least favorite thing about them — he has bugs living in his body and in his bones. i don't want to think about that!!! i don't think of myself as somebody who is bad with bugs, but if there's more than 7 of the same kind of bug in one place, i will start to wig out a little

favorite line —

brOTP — HMMMMM hinata and kiba both. i've said before that i think their team is really well balanced, you have somebody who is quiet and terribly insecure, you have another who is quiet and very secure, and then you have a loud one. I feel like between them all they make up a very well balanced group, socially.

OTP —i do not think much about shipping

nOTP —i do not think much about shipping

random headcanon —the aburame family is very tight knit, very supportive, and generally very good at reading each others moods and intentions. they're not a very talkative family but they all pay a lot of attention to each other, and most things are left unsaid or in implications. growing up in this environment, shino's an incredibly indirect kind of person. as he's gotten older he's gotten more and more blunt, because the effort of going to indirect effforts to commuunicate with people who do not seem to know how to pick up his signals, is fucking exhausting. he just says shit now.

unpopular opinion —ah...i don't know if i have any unpopular opinions about him. i think a friendship between him and kankuro would be hilarious. is that unpopular? both of them are relatively lonely and quiet, but also okay being alone. i feel like they would each think theyre doing the other person a favor by hanging out with a known freak like them.

kankuro might especially be like "this guys scary and his bugs are awful but you know what they say, keep your friends close and your enemies closer!" and so he starts hanging around shino to get info on the bugs and how to deal with them. and he pretends to be interested in shino and his bugs and makes overt gestures of friendship, and shino, who is often forgotten, is flattered by the intention. and is like "well. i suppose i should introduce you to my family. and also to my team"

and kiba is like "fuck yeah lmfao this dude is sooo easy to trick" but as shino and him talk more hes like "wuh oh this dudes lonliness is a harsh mirror to my own! girl help, i'm empathizing with the bug guy!!!!"

anyway. this conversation happens:

shino: what if the black ant used real ants kankuro: you disgust me. kankuro: but. that would be kind of cool honestly shino: yeah. kankuro: yeah.

for what it's worth, shino is on the other side of the friendship like "this suna kid is so fucking desperate for friends; his flattery is intense. and his manners are maybe worse than kiba's (is he a feral child raised by puppets?) clearly he needs it and i mean he's not horrible company. i will indulge him."

so they both lend up pointing at each other like. "i am doing this for you, because you clearly need it," but truthfully they make the friendship for themselves, because they dooo need it.

song i associate with them —Boys Will Be Bugs by Cavetown bc i mean.

I'm a dumb teen boy I eat sticks and rocks and mud I don't care about the government And I really need a hug I feel stupid (stupid) Ugly (ugly) Pretend it doesn't bother me I'm not very strong but I'll fuck you up if you're mean to bugs

i don't think that shino struggles w/ toxic masculinity all that much tbh which is what the thrust of the song is about, but i do think he probably struggles with trying to understand social conventions and which ones he has to adhere to and which ones he's only expected to adhere to

n there are lines in there like

"Ain't that how it's s'posed to be? Though it isn't me Boys will be bugs right?"

which i feel is better suited but still not all the way there. anyway, a song for a teenage boy that wants to protect the small and innocent alien things which remind him of himself, but is grappling with the expectations he feels are being demanded of him. this is a very obvious pick for shino but i hope it's not boring because of that.

favorite picture of them

i like when he hides his whole self. personal privacy icon.

[neo-culture-mafia]

[02:03PM] “Where is he, Mark? They should’ve arrived yesterday.” You questioned for the millionth time that day— pacing around the room as you looked at the window every two seconds.

“I thought you didn’t care about what happened to your arranged husband.” Hyuck muttered, receiving a not-so-nice glance from Mark.

“You’re not helping, Hyuck.” Mark scolded him before walking to you and gently placing both of his hands on your shoulders. “Unforeseen things happen during missions all the time, Y/N. I’m sure they’re on their way.” He stated with a gentle smile on his lips.

“Aren’t they supposed to tell you guys when something happens?” You asked, feeling the cold sweat take over your hands. Your nervousness was starting to show.

“Only when they’re fucked up.” Hyuck added, automatically shrinking his shoulders when Mark turned to him to mouth “I’m gonna kill you” with no sound.

“What he’s trying to say...” Mark turned his attention back to you with the sweetest smile he could put on his face. “is that they only call when they need help, so the fact they haven’t called it’s a good sign. Very good sign.” He assured you.

“Okay.” You finally let a deep breath out of your mouth, trying to let Mark's words sink in and help with your worrying.

“You should go to bed, though. We’re gonna linger around a bit more so we'll tell Renjun that you were worried about him when he arrives.”

“I’m not worried about him.” Your facial expression automatically changed and you adjusted your posture, getting out of Mark's grasp. “I’m just concerned about the others, there are people from my family there too, that’s all.”

“Uhum. I’ll let you fool yourself this time.” Hyuck gave you a sarcastic smile before walking to you with a bit less attitude. He knew better than to keep doing that to you, you had a scary husband. “But seriously, go get some sleep. I'll let you know when he arrives. You barely slept last night.”

Judging by the way Mark and Hyuck were staring at you, you knew that trying to say anything different would be a lost battle.

“Pinky promise?” You asked after sighing at how powerless you were in front of two of your closest friends. “I whole hand promise you.” Donghyuck held up his hand for you to hit, getting a weak smile as an answer from you. “He’s one of the best, Y/N. If there’s anyone in this world that you shouldn’t worry about, it’s him.” He reassured you before kindly scouting you out of the room.

{...}

When Renjun finally arrived at his house, his mind was too tired for him to remember that he was supposed to tell you he had arrived. His feet unconsciously moved towards the bathroom as he quietly repeated to himself that he just needed to take all that blood off of him and that he would feel better. A fallacy to say the least, but Renjun had never felt like himself whenever he had blood stains on him, it just bugged his mind as a constant reminder that one more life had been taken by his gun. Not the happiest thought to have before going to bed.

As he stepped out of the bathroom, finally feeling like himself again, Renjun paced towards your room on the other side of the hallway, ready to knock on your door to tell you he'd arrived and to hear you telling him to fuck off and let you sleep as the usual response. Instead, what he received was much different than expected.

When he was about to knock on your door, he noticed that the door was already open. Your room was empty.

“Y/N?” Renjun called for you. The silence was the only answer. “Shit.” He mumbled to himself, quickly running to your nightstand drawer where he had previously convinced you to leave a gun. It was also empty.

The fear started to grow inside of his chest as Renjun silently walked out of your room. Since you had firmly and kindly stated — or threatened to cut his balls off — that Renjun was banned from ever entering your room without your permission, he still hadn’t had the chance to put any alarms inside your bedroom. The only alarm capable of adverting the rest of Neo Culture in case of trouble was in his room.

Although Renjun had arrived around a few minutes ago, the hall's light was still turned off. He didn’t like to see the bloodstains on him, so he usually would only turn on the lights after making sure he wouldn’t see any reminder of violence on his body.

The fact that his room's light on had passed unnoticed by Renjun, something unusual to happen, only made the fear start to take over his body. Fear was a foreign feeling for Renjun, but when the thought that something might have happened to you occurred to him, he knew this was a rare exception. Someone was inside his house, and you were nowhere to be found. The equation was easy for him.

As much as your marriage wasn’t ideal, Renjun never pushed you away. He understood that you had a temper and that being rude was your way to cope with how fast things had “happened” between the two of you, and even though he didn’t enjoy being treated like shit, he was more than certain that no one had the permission to lay a finger on you. Arranged or not, Renjun took the marriage vows seriously, and someone hurting you was out of the question.

In a second of anger, Renjun ignored all the expert assassin instincts that were screaming for him to check the cameras before attacking- him throwing away the idea to know how many he was going to be dealing with. He ran straight to his room’s door and kicked it open to see a very confused you raising your head from his pillow.

Renjun's eyes were quick to scan your face. You had bags underneath your eyes, very red and swollen eyes, that tipped off that you most likely had cried yourself to sleep. When Mark and Donghyuck mentioned that you were worried about him, Renjun thought that they were just messing around. Now he could see they weren’t lying.

If the situation was different, you would have probably told him to get lost. But as your tired eyes landed on Renjun's figure, relief was the only thing radiating off of you.

You probably looked terrible. You could feel that your hair, your face, your clothes, and even your self-esteem were messed up, but your eyes were still locked on his anyway.

As your brain tried to come up with an explanation, you started to wonder: How could you explain your current situation without completely humiliating yourself in front of the man you thought you despised till yesterday?

“W-what,” your voice failed, causing you to mentally curse at your own stupid voice for not helping. “What’s with the gun?” You managed to say a few words as you quickly sat down on his bed.

“What’s with the crying?” He questioned back, not breaking eye contact with you as he placed the gun on his waistband.

“Uh- Nothing. I just missed my home.” You murmured, cleaning some tears off of your face with your hoodie's sleeve in an awkward manner as your vision tried to adjust to the combination of the room's light + puffy post-cry eyes.

“Oh.” Renjun's stare softened. His heart was still trying to calm down after so many bad scenarios flashed through his mind, so he didn’t even think about whether he would be invading your personal space or not when he sat down next to you. “I’ll ask Chenle to take you to see your parents tomorrow.”

As Renjun's body touched the mattress, your body automatically retracted and you were back on your feet, receiving a confused stare from the previously mentioned.

“I-I didn’t mean it in that way.” The words stumbled out of your mouth as your eyes tried to focus on anything but his face.

Surprisingly, your eyes were met with something you hadn’t seen before. You were so lost in your negative thoughts and crying when you walked into his room that you didn’t notice the small picture frame he kept by the side of his bed. It was your marriage day. You and he were in the picture.

“Huh?” He stared at you in genuine confusion.

No matter how many times you tried to push him away by telling him off or saying that he didn’t have any obligation towards you, he always took your marriage very seriously. He always prioritized whatever you needed, and he would always go beyond his limits just to make sure you had everything you needed.

Renjun never mistreated you. Not even for a second.

“When I married you, this place became my house. Even though I strongly opposed to the wedding, I accepted this as my house.”

“But?” Renjun instinctively asked as his mind was trying to conceive what was going on.

You debated for a few seconds whether or not to say the next words. Yet when you stared at his messed bed sheets that you were lying on instants ago, even if you wanted to, there wasn't any way to embarrass yourself more in front of him than you already had.

“This house isn’t my home without you in it.” You admitted, feeling a heavy burden get off of your shoulders as you let the very last piece of your dignity in Renjun's room before walking yourself out of it without turning back.

[arvinsescape]

Thank God for Tess

A/N: I love this concept and just had to write one.

Summary: Tess’s behavior has suddenly changed and you and Tom need to know why.

Warnings: Swearing. Mentions of sex but nothing bad.

W/C: 2.1K... Wow this got long quick.

Tessa’s behaviour had changed dramatically over the last couple of weeks and neither you nor Tom could figure it out. It started when you and Tom had been playfighting one afternoon. He had you pinned to the floor, arms above your head and knees either side of you.

“Tom! Get off!” You’d shouted as you laughed.

“Not until you tell me what Harrison said about me.”

“Nothing! It was just some sappy stuff you told him before you asked me out.” You laughed as he started tickling your sides.

“Yeah, but which sappy stuff?” His fingers were relentless and your sides were hurting from laughing.

That’s when Tess joined you. She barked at the commotion. Normally she’d get involved and playfully try and move Tom away from you.

“Look, Tess has come to save you.” Tom laughed as he carried on. Then you both stopped when you heard it. She let out a low growl as she eyed Tom.

“Tess, I’m just playing.” Tom said as he held his hands up in defence. Maybe she’d gotten confused and thought he was trying to hurt you. She growled again. Your eyebrows shot up as you looked at Tom. “Okay, okay. I’ll move.” Tom said as he got up off you. Tess moved and stood next to you still eyeing her owner.

“What’s gotten into you?” You said as you stroked her. She turned her attention to you and started trying to lick your face. You eventually stood up. “What’s up with her?” You asked Tom as he eyed her in confusion.

“Not a clue.”

That same night something else had happened that wasn’t normal. Tom again had you pinned but to the sofa and it wasn’t in a playful sense anymore. He took your bottom lip between his teeth and you let out a sigh of pleasure. Tom began kissing down your neck and you were letting out quiet whimpers. You moved your head to the side to allow him better access. When you opened your eyes you were met with Tess.

You and Tom had had sex multiple times on this sofa and she’d not once bothered you, usually disappearing into another room. Why was she here now? “Tom.” You pushed at his chest, he carried on, caught up in what he was doing. “Tom!” You said more forcefully, his eyes snapped to your face.

“What? Did I hurt you?” He panicked for a moment. Until he saw where you were looking. “Tess. Bed.” He said. She didn’t move. “Tess. Bed.” Tom said this time more assertively. She let out a low growl. “Tess, enough.” Tom said as she kept eyeing the two of you. it was strange.

“Tom, I can’t have sex if she’s gonna be staring at us, it’s weird.” You said.

“Well then we’ll move this upstairs.” He said as he stood up from the sofa, he picked you up, legs wrapped around his waist as he carried you upstairs. Tess hot on your heels.

“Tom she’s following.” You mumbled into his ear.

“Jesus Christ.” Tom muttered as he made his way into the bedroom. He shut the door and left Tessa outside. He felt guilty for a few moments before you started kissing his neck again. He moved you onto the bed and carried on where he left off. Sucking your sweet spot. Just as you were getting into it, you heard it. Tess had been scratching at the door. You both ignored it, she’d give up eventually and go to bed.

Not today it seems. She was now barking behind the door and scratching it more aggressively. You sighed and so did Tom. You didn’t want a complaint from the neighbours so Tom got up and opened the door. She shot straight past him and made her way over to you, trying to lick your face, making you both laugh as she jumped up onto the bed.

“What is with you today Tess?” You sighed as you changed into your pj’s. You got into bed and so did Tom after stripping down to his boxers. Just as he was about to pull you close to his chest Tess reappeared. She got right in between the two of you as she cuddled into your side.

“Cock blocked by my own bloody dog.” Tom sighed as he grasped your hand over Tessa. “She’s in a mood today.” Tom grumbled.

But it wasn’t just that day. No, she’d gotten really quite naughty in way. She followed you around more than usual and she was always trying to separate you and Tom, completely ignoring any command he gave. You’d actually had to ask Harrison to take her for a walk just so you could have sex. When Harrison had returned, Tess was again, all over you. He said that she’d been whining a lot, trying to turn around to get home quicker.

“What is with her? Do you think she’s sick?” You’d asked Tom out of concern.

“No, she’s eating fine and she isn’t showing any signs of being in pain. It’s like she’s gotten attached to you, like more than usual.” He said as he furrowed his brows in thought, observing his dog as she curled up in your lap.

She’d started growling at Tom almost regularly. Whenever he touched you in certain ways, she’d be there. Tom was growing frustrated at her, she was being more aggressive towards him and he wasn’t sure why. She wasn’t an aggressive dog, not in any way and he didn’t know what had gotten into her, he was growing more concerned about her.

Then Tuwaine came round and that’s when you saw Tom properly scald Tess for the first time. You and Tuwaine were close, as you were with all of Tom’s friends and you were currently engaged in a bit of light banter. Tess curled up at your side that she was seemingly attached too. You’d made a snarky comment and as was usual, Tuwaine went to give you a harmless and playful punch to the arm.

The second his hand made contact with your arm Tess shot up. She barked as she tried to bite his hand. Tuwaine instantly pulling back as you both stared at each other in shock. Tess was stood defensively next to you as she growled at him.

“Tess!” Tom shouted. She didn’t even look at him. She was never so disobedient. “Oi. Tess. No.” Tom shouted again.

“What’s her deal?” Tuwaine asked as Tom sighed.

“Tess. Bed. Now.” Tom said to her. He was being assertive and she still wasn’t listening.

“Tess, go to bed.” You tried assertively. She looked at you as if examining you were alright before trotting off to her bed. This shocked all of you. She wouldn’t listen to Tom, but she would you? It’s not that she didn’t take commands from you she just got away with more when it came to you.

“What was that?” Tuwaine asked.

“I have no idea. She’s been like this for about a week or so.” Tom sighed.

“What did I do? I was just doing stuff she’s watched me do before?” Tuwaine asked confusion all over his features.

“Yeah, I get that treatment as well now.” Tom sighed.

“She’s tried to bite you?”

“No.” Tom said as he apologised to his friend. Tessa hadn’t tried to bite him and then she did.

You’d been visiting Tom’s parents when it happened. Tess was doing her new routine of following you everywhere and making sure she was sat next to you. Tom had decided he wanted to slightly cuddle up to you but couldn’t because Tess was in the way.

“Tess come on, down.” Tom said. She ignored him. “Tess!” He tried more assertively. Nothing. He sighed as he went to gently move her. She barked at him and went for his hand and he pulled back in shock. All the Holland’s were shocked.

“Right, that’s enough. Tess come on.” You said as you stood up. She followed you as you went into the kitchen. You shut her in there and you felt immensely guilty but that was a huge no. She’d tried to bite Tom, her owner.

“What was that?” Dom asked. “Tess is never aggressive.”

“I don’t know dad, she’s been like this for about two weeks. It makes no sense and I don’t know what to do. It’s like people aren’t allowed near Y/N.” Tom sighed. “It’s like she won’t be separated from her.” As if on que she started scratching at the door and barking.

“Maybe you should take her to the vets Tom?” Nikki suggested. “Make sure she’s alright.”

So you did. The vet examined her thoroughly.

“There isn’t anything wrong with her.” He said.

“Why is she suddenly so grumpy?” Tom asked.

“Have you had any recent changes? Walking areas, house?” The vet listed off.

“No.” Tom asked with furrowed brows. The vet turned his attention to you.

“Are you pregnant?” He asked and you laughed.

“No.” You said.

“Well I would suggest doing a test. Dogs can get like this, especially Tessa’s breed. They are very family orientated. She may be trying to protect you because you’re carrying a baby.” The vet explained. You couldn’t be, could you?

“What if that’s not it?” Tom asked. He looked deep in concentration.

“Then I suggest you bring her back. If, however, it is the case. Make sure she feels included and make sure you don’t present yourself as any sort of threat towards Y/N, even if it’s doing things you normally would. She will calm down eventually.” The vet said.

You made your way back to the car. Once in the car Tom started driving home.

“Is there a chance you could be pregnant?” He asked, expression unreadable.

“I don’t think so.” You said as you racked your brains. You had come off birth control recently because of all the problems you were having with it but you and Tom had been careful. Shit. You suddenly thought. You and Tom were usually very careful but there was that one night where you were both so wrapped up in each other because he’d just come home that you can’t remember if you did or didn’t use a condom.

You took your phone out and looked at the date. Your period was three weeks late. Shit. You were panicking now. You’d forgotten you were due on. This was the longest stretch you and Tom had ever been away from each other and you’d gotten so caught up in the fact that he was home.

“Fuck.” You mumbled to yourself, panic setting in.

“What?” Tom asked as he pulled into the driveway. You didn’t say anything as you got out of the car and made your way into the house. Tess and Tom hot on your heels.

“Y/N, what’s going on?” Tom asked worried as you got into the house.

“When you came home six weeks ago. Did we use a condom?” You asked as you looked at him. He looked at you confused for a second as he tried to think.

“I think so. I don’t remember. I was so happy to see you, I’m sure we did didn’t we?” He was looking at you now.

“I can’t remember.” You said honestly. Was he going to hate you for this? What if you were?

“Then we should take a test, to be sure.” Tom said as he nodded. We that’s a good sign right? You sighed but agreed.

You’d gone out and bought a few tests. You took the first one.

Positive.

You took the second one.

Positive.

Third. Same result.

“Fuck.” You sighed. You looked at Tom and he had all three tests in his hand examining them. Face unreadable. The panic set in. Holy shit, what if he leaves you. “Tom.” You said carefully.

His eyes snapped to yours as he grinned.

“We’re pregnant.” He said.

“You’re not mad?”

“Mad? No! Jesus, I’m so happy right now.”

“I thought you weren’t ready for kids?” You mumbled.

“Me too. But seeing this has completely changed my mind, I’m ready and I’ll have you with me!” He suddenly picked you up and kissed your face all over. You giggled as you realised that this was in fact a very good thing. Tess calmed down after a few weeks as the vet had said, although there were still some things that Tom wasn’t allowed to do but they seemed to come to a mutual understanding, she no longer snapped at anyone anymore and she was more or less back to her original self. She was still attached to your hip but she did allow you and Tom some alone time now. You couldn’t help but thank her in a way. You’d been lucky enough not to experience much morning sickness and you wondered how long it would have taken you to find out. Thank God for Tess.

[kashimos-hajime]

homestretch of the hard times | g.t.

summary: the eve days of your potential death kinda spurns things to move forward: for takemura, it means confessions. for you, it means making exceptions. and drinks. ‘cause takemura’s the pickiest fucking eater you’ve ever met.

WARNINGS: small spoilers for act 1 of cyberpunk 2077 and references to non-spoiler texts between takemura and v, just fluff, small angst, swearing, idk what else is going on so if there are actual spoilers thats completely coincedental ndlnskfsldnf pairing: goro takemura x fem!street-kid!v word count: 2.6k

a/n: so cdpr did us dirty for not allowing us to romance him (to my knowledge) but he has my mind, heart and everything else so :) listened to the bones by maren morris w/ hozier

part of the tales of a two-bit thief series

It starts with something straight out of a romance movie: A car crash, saving each other’s lives (well, him more than you) and “Wait, V, I need you.”

You don’t know how you got here, to be precise. There were a chain of events, some absolutely stand up fucking moments on your part, and just… fuckery. So much fuckery and life went to shit.

All you know is the ticking time bomb’s only ticking louder and at this point, the only thing that can silence it at all is the man beside you. Not even the meds Misty gave you can help you now. 

You’re sitting in his car because you called him and he had answered and now… now they’re on one of the off ramps looking over Night City like they own the fucking place.

Maybe you did, once. Ha, maybe back when everything seemed more job to job and not life to life. For a moment, maybe you were in the big leagues.

Takemura doesn’t say anything, even though you can tell he wants to. His hair still pulled into that man bun, collared shirt with not a single wrinkle in sight. Weird how he never looks out of place, not really. Not even with the car crash. Shit, he always looked good.

You think you’re actually gonna miss that. That one semblance of someone being put together that gave you the hope that maybe you could stick it too.

You think you’re gonna miss a lot of things about him—from his stupid complaints about the food here, to his stupid random philosophy texts in the day, to the fact that he eats the ramen you buy anyway without complaint, even though it’ll never compare to what he has in Japan.

The thought that counts.

They don’t even have the radio on, just the dim lights of the car, a window rolled down. You don’t smoke but you feel like you should be tapping a cig either way. You haven’t had the time to just fucking breathe—not with Silverhand breathing down your neck, corpo rats swarming you on all sides. 

Everyone wants a piece of you, it feels like. 

You look at Takemura.

Almost everyone.

“Thank you,” you tell him quietly, with difficulty. It’s hard to get through your words without thinking Silverhand’s behind your back, mocking you. You’re so fucking tired. “It hasn’t been easy.”

He doesn’t respond. He’s too busy looking at one of the cars nearly collide with a pedestrian. You could’ve laughed. You used to make fun of the shitty drivers in Night City, knowing full well you’re one of them.

You get chased by a couple of cops, rules start to bend.

You used to wonder why you never left.

Then, you actually left, and you realized that hell, you can take the person out of Night City—can’t take the Night City out of a person.

Atlanta fucking sucked, but maybe you should’ve stayed there.

But then, a tiny voice whispers as you look out the window to the fresh night wind. You never would’ve met him.

It’s funny, you think. To come back and get a brain tumour in the shape of a rocker who can’t fucking touch anyone who loves him, who he loved, only for you to fall in love with a corpo you can’t fucking touch at all because… because there is no time left. It just isn’t fair.

“I used to be a corpo kid,” you confess, looking at him with a wry smile again. That catches his attention. He looks at you with those eyes that scrutinize you, interrogate you, peel you apart to your bare essentials and you have to look away before you can’t control your face anymore. God fucking damn it. “Not when it mattered, obviously, but… I remember what it was like. Grew up hating every single on of them.”

“Your parents were Arasaka?”

“Mhm. Security division.” It’s like your eyes are magnetic to his because when you blink, you find yourself regarding him again. Your fingers play at your lips. “Counterintelligence. I was supposed to go into that, too. Big dreams.” 

“I see.”

“Yeah, then my parents were tried for treason and murdered, so I got thrown out. That’s it.” Your hand falls away. You pick at the chipped nail polish on your thumb. “Never told anyone that. ‘Cept…” Jackie. Well, he’s fucking dead, now. “‘Cept you, now, I guess. Guess some corpos aren’t so bad.”

The corner of his mouth pinches up like he’s flattered and you can’t help the pleased warmth spreading through your chest. 

“Should I be honoured I am one of the few exceptions you have made?”

“Well, I don’t make exceptions often, so…” You grin slyly. He looks away just as you catch a flash of his smile growing. It’s a nice smile. You wish you saw it more often before the end of the road. Maybe it’s one of the regrets you have, too. “Yeah, maybe you should feel special.”

“Hm.”

“C’mon, Takemura. Humour the walking dead, yeah?” You stretch against the leather of his car seat with a pleased sound. “I’m spending what time I have left with who I want to. Can’t ask for much better than that.” A quiet hangs in the air as you melt against the black leather and you look at Takemura who’s staring at the wheel with an intensity you don’t often see. It makes your gut squirm. 

“And I? I am one of those people?”

You lean on one hip and look at him, bending a knee and resting an ankle on your thigh. He looks at you with an uncertainty—an uncertainty you’re sure echoes in your eyes.

It was business, then it wasn’t. Maybe it never was.

“Yeah. You’re one of the few on the short list.”

“Exceptions again.”

You laugh. “Yeah. You’re an exception to most things, I think. Weird, that.”

“How so?”

“Ah, I don’t know. I’ve had family—still do, ones that matter, you know. Just… no one ever like you, Takemura. Drives me crazy.”

“The feeling is mutual. Your mocking brings you onto thin ice, V.” His fingers tap against the steering wheel. The engine’s off so it seems more fidgety than anything. Weird. You never noticed he fidgeted before. Maybe he’s nervous?

About what?

“I must ask you something.”

“Shoot.”

“If you have a future, what do you see for yourself?”

Your eyebrows shoot up. You frown and pick at your flecking nail polish even more, looking at your hand and focusing more on that so you don’t have to answer your question. His eyes burn into you and you swallow, trying not to act like you haven’t thought, in regret, at night, about a hundred million fucking times the possibilities they could’ve had together.

You’re not about to say all that.

Instead: “Settling down with the family. Mama Welles, people at the Coyote.” You blatantly don’t look at him when you add, “Others. This has been enough action for a lifetime.” You rest your hands on your lap and chance a glimpse at him. He’s looking away from you, out the window on his side, and you shift in your seat. “How about you? You must’ve… had dreams. Before all this shit went down. You make it out of here and then what?”

When he looks at you, your heart nearly cracks at the sadness in his eyes. He smiles, but there is no strength, and his eyes are darker than the night surrounding them.

“I would go to the countryside, just as I’ve always wanted. Leave this, all of this, behind. Rural Japan is beautiful, so a small town would suffice where everyone knows everyone. We do favours for one another. It is community. Nothing like here.” His lips pull into a tiny frown. “When I was a younger man, I wanted a daughter,” is all he says. “I believe I could have been a great father, so perhaps… perhaps one day.”

“A daughter? Not a son?” you ask curiously, and he almost chuckles. You can’t help the faint smile on your face. 

“If my daughter grew up anything like her mother,” he explains with a slight glance towards you, “I would have more hope than a son who was like me.”

You frown.  “You’re not a bad man, Takemura. Any son like you—with your code of honour, your shitty selfie skills—no one’s gotta a chance.”

He merely scoffs in response. Again, with the you mocking him. It’s a wonder he lets you.

“But really, that sounds… nice. A daughter, a wife.” You drum your fingers against your knee and his eyes dart to yours, click like they were always destined to meet, and your lips part. Words stall on your tongue and you want to speak but in the dim lights, you are lost in the darkness of his eyes. Something comes, something goes, and you barely croak out, “Whoever marries you will have to deal with so much of your shit that the kids have to turn out alright. The complaining, for one. Picky eater for another.”

This time, he does chuckle and you swallow a breath at the sound. “Dealing with it comes with practice, V.”

“Is that so?”

“Shouldn’t you know?”

“I—“ For once, no funny retort, no witty quip shoots out of your mouth, and you realize that there is an implication—an intricate dance where they’re struggling not to step on each other’s toes and nearly failing at every turn, yet somehow, it works because they’re dancing, and it’s quiet, and it’s… it’s peaceful.

Shit, you’re getting a load of this. When’d you become a poet?

“I guess I should know,” you finally say. “Never understood why I got so giddy whenever I saw your texts, you know, seein’ your name flash on my phone.” You laugh bitterly. “Guess I know why, now.” He’s silent and you don’t look at him. You look at the dashboard where you’ve kicked your feet up a dozen times, the glove compartment that still has your sunglasses inside.

Shit.

“Thank you for everything. Shit’s a little… more bearable, I guess. When you’re around, that is.” The words come out stilted, awkward, but your heart is so heavy in your throat you feel like you’re going to choke. You look into your lap, your whole body incinerating under what you’re sure is the most judgemental glare of your life and you just hope to fucking God this man says something, does something.

Holy shit. You’re going to die of embarrassment. Didn’t even think that was possible.

Then, a loud sigh. A sigh you’ve heard often enough beside you right before a gunfight or when he has to eat the food you ordered for him or even the nights when they’re exhausted, bruised, and just plain tired right before going to sleep where they lay on the floor.

It’s exasperated, a how on earth did we get here, a very annoyed again, you’re so fucking stupid, and you’re still running through your list on what this particular sigh can mean before a hand gently takes hold of yours. Your eyes dart to his, blinking and he stares at you like you’ve just stabbed him. Your heart is fucking racing in your chest, pounding like thunder. His fingers fold over and you realize, as you interlace fingers, that his skin is burning at your touch. 

Or maybe, it’s the other way around.

They sit there in silence, not looking at one another, looking out windows, parts of the car, everything but each other, and when he squeezes your hand, you close your eyes and swallow your heart.

It’s over.

“V,” he murmurs, voice so deathly quiet and raspy in your ears that your gut clenches. You turn to watch him. “Tell me that you will not stop fighting.” You swallow your breath as his eyes flicker from your own to your parted lips. He inhales quietly and you swear you can feel his heartbeat pulsing in his fingers in your grip. “That this is not all for nothing.”

“It isn’t.“

“Then I was right.” His eyes flutter back to your gaze and he tilts his head. Wisps of fine hair escaping his manbun brush over his nose and you reach up on your own accord, swiping it behind your ear. You lean over the console, your elbow digging into the leather and, tentatively, you trail your fingers down his jaw, hold his face in your hand. “I am… what is that phrase you use so often?”

“SNAFU?”

“No.”

“Assblasted.”

“No.”

“Royally fucked?”

“We need to expand your vocabulary.” You smile nefariously as his other hand reaches for your chin. He pinches it lightly, thumb stretching up to brush over your lips and your face freezes at his touch. “But yes. Royally fucked. I wasn’t wrong when I said I needed you.”

“I think that meant a whole something else back then,” you whisper rawly and he smiles sombrely. His thumb leaves your mouth to brush your cheek, his eyes fixing on you as if he’s trying to memorize aspects of your face: the arch of your nose, the bow of your smile, the way your brow wrinkles. “Meant more business-like.”

“I did. And now, I believe the terms have changed.” He arches an eyebrow. “Are we at a mutual understanding, V?”

“Yes.” And I hate that we are. Your hand along his jaw lifts to wrap around his wrist. “Consider that feeling mutual, yeah? It goes both ways.”

“I will.” Another small smile graces his lips. It makes him look younger every time and you rub your thumb over the back of his hand. 

“Do you wanna grab something to eat before you drive me back home for some shuteye?”

“The choices here are atrocious, V.”

“Then, drinks,” you propose, letting go of his wrist. He lets go of your chin, and turning to face the front, you kick up your feet on his dash. He stares at you for a moment then sighs because there really isn’t anything he can do about it. Nor, do you think, he wants to. You squeeze his hand and send him a silly smile. “How about drinks? I wasn’t hungry anyway.”

“Are you paying?”

You eye him incredulously. “Who do you take me for? You?”

He snorts and the engine roars to life with a flick of his wrist. He grabs the wheel dominantly and you swallow at the way his fingers wrap around the handle. “The Afterlife, then?”

“Or, we could make it rustic.” You pull his hand into your lap playfully and run a thumb over his knuckles. His eyes flit over and you send him a smirk. “I know Mama Welles doesn’t like you, but the Coyote’s serving cheap. Happen to like me there.” He begins to pull out of their little overhang and he nudges their joined hands into your abdomen, silently telling you to buckle in. Rolling your eyes, you mumble out a ‘boomer’ underneath your breath before letting go of him and following orders.

He settles a hand on your thigh and squeezes. You hang an arm out the window. 

The wind’s running through the car, he has the radio on low, and they’re easing through onto the highway.

Your chest is lighter than a feather, mind’s quieter than a ghost.

You’ve seen scarier deaths, dealt a lot more. You know that silence is a bigger killer than most bullets.

But here you are now…

“I’m changing this,” Takemura says. “This music is terrible.”

…Shit, maybe life isn’t so bad, ending the way it is.

[pascalpanic]

hi i love ur writing so much!! can i request something with mutual pining, denial of feelings, idiots-to-lovers, hurt/comfort/angst , maybe some jealousy and fluff and smut if you want i just need something really angsty with javier peña, frankie m or din djarin?? tysmm!!!!!

The Bantha (Din Djarin x f!Reader)

Summary: Being an animal lover does not work well with the plans the Tuskens and Mos Pelgo citizens have to kill the krayt dragon. A retelling of S2E1 of the Mandalorian: The Marshal.

W/C: 4.4K

Warnings: talk of animals being harmed/dying, lots of arguing and angst, Vanth kind of is gross bc I hate his character aha, we respect the Tuskens in this house and use proper terminology for them, language, tiniest mentions of alcohol

A/N: Not gonna lie, the idea for this fic came to me pretty quickly but it took me a long time to properly figure it out. Lots of drafting and editing so THANK YOU to my beta readers, you’re all the best ever!! Anon, I’m so sorry this took so long but I hope it’s worth it!

Of all the dilemmas you’d expected to face as you traveled the galaxy with a tiny, Force-sensitive, 50-year-old toddler and a Mandalorian with the emotional capacity of the earlier-mentioned child, the last one you’d ever predicted you’d face had to be the challenge of ridding a tiny desert town of a giant sand beast that eats their banthas.

“You are so fucking dense,” you groan as you and Din settle on a speeder bike, the little green child tucked in a wrap on your chest. “You’re a Mandalorian, a battle-worn bounty hunter with a kill streak probably in the thousands, and some random man asks for your help and not only do you fucking freely give it, you decide to help them kill the sand dragon terrorizing their town.” You groan to him, rubbing your temples.

Din nods and starts up the speeder bike. “You don’t need to summarize what we just lived through,” he grunts and you wrap an arm around him.

“I do, because I need to clarify that your dumb ass would do that. Sometimes I really do think you don’t have a brain under that beskar bucket,” you shake your head, trying to keep the anger that you’re feeling. If you’re not careful, it’ll turn to adoration and love.

You’ve been battling your feelings for Din for a while now, trying to force the giddiness bubbling in your chest deep down inside. The man is everything you look for in a partner: strong, committed, tall, protective. He’s good with the child, adorably cuddly and loving. He’s even funny sometimes, making dry-humored remarks around the ship.

“Excuse me for caring,” the man grumbles through the modulator. He’s strong and warm beneath your arms, the Tatooine heat making the beskar warm like your bunk in the morning when you don’t want to get up. Stop it, stop it you remind yourself. This is not the time to be enraptured by the Mandalorian man’s body.

That’s yet another trait you love about him- how caring he is. He’s a bounty hunter, a warrior by oath who never shows his face and probably knows millions of ways to kill someone with his bare hands. Yet he cares. He raises the child well; he even raised him alone before you came into the picture. He puts himself in harm’s way for innocent people on the daily, all because he simply thinks it’s right.

You take a sip from your water canteen and hand it to the baby on your chest so he can drink too. “No, I will not excuse you for caring when you’re doing stupid shit, Din,” you scowl and cap the canteen as two three-fingered green hands give it back to you. “You came here- we came here, our family did, to find Mandalorians. There are none.”

“This man will give me his beskar if we help,” Din hisses, revving the engine of the speeder, non-verbally telling Vanth to get moving. The man is dawdling along, a few meters away, as he packs his bike up.

“What do you need it for, huh?” You ask him, throwing your arms up in exasperation. “I’m not a Mandalorian. This little shit doesn’t need beskar. You have a full set of armor already.”

“Beskar belongs to me, to my people, by my Creed,” he says, articulating himself with his hands too. It’s a habit he’s picked up from you. “You wouldn’t ask a Tatooinian to deprive themselves of the moisture they farm.”

You put your face in your hands and groan. “No, you’re right, because they fucking need water to live. You do not need beskar to survive, Din!” You shout, getting off the speeder bike. “And please, forget I called us a family. We’re clearly just a bounty hunter and his… assistant, whatever the fuck I am, and some little kid we picked up for the ride.” You stalk off towards the building.

“Where are you going?” He asks as you turn.

Cobb is standing to the side somewhere, and you approach him. “You got another speeder? I don’t want to put up with him for the ride.”

The man chuckles and claps your shoulder. “Sure thing, pretty thing.” He wanders off and returns about a minute later with another speeder. Din watches the two of you in annoyance, visible from his rigid body language. “Hop on. You know how to drive?” You nod once and he heads to his own speeder. “I’ll lead. You two follow.”

-

The ride is uneventful at first. Cobb Vanth tells the two of you the story of how he came to be the town marshal, and Din nods his silent comprehension when the man in beskar looks over at him. Most of the stories are aimed at you, desperate to crack your stony anger. It doesn’t work. You stare straight ahead, daring to break your frown into a neutral expression when the little green baby coos excitedly at the wind in his ears.

There are valleys and caverns to navigate through, nimbly ducking and weaving on your speeder bike. The kid loves it, squealing happily when you fly over a bump or turn a sharp corner. It’s a joyride to him.

When Din and Vanth suddenly stop your ride, you panic, holding the child close against your chest. From your holster, you grab your weapon and stand next to the two men. The growling noises are revealed to be massiffs, huge dog-like lizards. You squeal in delight, immediately dropping to your knees and summoning the beast in Tusken.

“What in the hell is she doin’?” Vanth mutters to Din as the big animal comes bounding toward you.

“She’s always like this with animals. Thinks they’re all big puppies,” Din rolls his eyes but can’t help himself: he smiles beneath his helmet as the beast licks your face and you scratch its sides.

You’re such a wonderful person, Din sighs, even though he’s mad at you. You’ve always been amazing with other species, like massiffs and the little green child strapped to your chest. You’re so intelligent too: speaking seemingly endless languages.

“They are big puppies!” You coo and press a kiss to the forehead of one massiff. Another finds Din, who also bends down to give it scratches and attention. “Green bean, look!” You tell the child and put out his hand for the massiff to lick. “See? They’re our friends,” you tell him, admiring the way the little green child giggles at the scaly skin.

From around a corner, a Tusken appears, then several. You stand and lower your weapon, speaking to them first in their native language. “We mean no harm. You have beautiful massiffs,” you tell them then turn to Din and Vanth. “Drop the weapons.”

“Are you crazy?” Vanth shouts.

“We are here to put an end to the krayt dragon,” you explain to them in their language. “Your assistance and knowledge would certainly help us. You want it gone too, yes?”

They affirm you that it’s a yes, and you nod back at the men. You know Din understands. “They’re willing to help if you’ll stop being a douchebag.” Vanth starts to talk but you hold up a hand and cut him off. “I know, I know. We can strike a deal. Are you willing?”

Din’s heart is nearly exploding. In any other timeline, he’d be the one conducting negotiations, using his threat as a Mandalorian to run the show. But here you are, with your gentle nature, making deals and completing them through cooperation and kindness. It’s hard to speak in a soft tone when speaking Tusken, yet you can do it. All with a baby strapped to your chest. Maker, Din thinks, he might be in love with you.

Vanth sighs a few moments later. “Why the hell not?”

-

Din talks with the Tuskens for a while at the camp, planning and negotiating as night falls and the air starts to get cold. To entertain the child, you spend time with the banthas, brushing their fur and letting the baby get exposed to the animals.

The kid loves them. He coos happily as he strokes their thick fur, giggling as one of them gives him a kiss and covers him in slime. You wash him off and return, quietly talking with the Tuskens caring for the creatures.

You’ve taken a liking to them. They’re gentle and soft, like big lumbering puppies, really. They moo when you brush their fur just right, let their eyes slip shut when you scratch them between the eyes. You’ve always had a soft spot for animals, like Din said earlier.

Cobb likes you. That much is clear from the way he finds you when he’s not working with Din and the Tuskens, bringing you food and water as you and the child mind your business. He’s overly flirtatious, to the point of annoyance. He’s rude and crude about the Tuskens, calling them words you’d never use to describe a human.

Politely excusing yourself, you allow the child to run with some of the other Tuskens’ children and spot a silver-plated man sitting by the fire.

“Vanth is such a goddamn xenophobe,” you grumble as you sit down next to the fire with Din, the child off playing with some Tusken children. He’d ranted about the Tuskens as you rode with them, luckily in Basic so that the people couldn’t understand him.

“Thought you liked him,” Din says and cocks his head. “He certainly likes you.”

You roll your eyes and sip the canteen of water, looking at the crackling fire. “Those things are not mutually exclusive,” you chuckle, looking over at him. “What, are you jealous, tin can?” You tease and knock on his beskar pauldron.

“In your dreams, cyar’ika,” he teases. It’s clear to him that whatever tension had been between the two of you earlier has dissipated, enough for him to steal the water flask from your hand and pass it to the child as he toddles past.

“I was drinking that, you fucking bantha,” you laugh and smack him on an unarmored part of his arm. The Tatooinian desert gets cold at night, you find, and you pull into yourself a little more from the cold.

Din unclips his cape and drapes it over your shoulders, tucking it in beneath where your arms press against your ribs so that it wraps tight to your body. “Hm. You do have a heart under there,” you tease and sigh, naturally leaning against Din and resting your head on his shoulder pauldron.

“So it’s been said,” he nods and even dares to rest his head on top of yours. Through the bare spots in his beskar, he can feel the way your body radiates warmth into the chilly night. You spot a little green head toddling past again, much slower than the other children thanks to his tiny legs, and Din scoops him up.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur quietly, the roar of the Tuskens’ conversations creating a soft hum around you. “For what I said, when I yelled at you. You’re right. You really are just caring for them.”

He nods. “You don’t have to apologize.”

“I’m more sorry for saying we aren’t a family. I mean, we are, right? Not that we’re like, a couple or anything,” you say hurriedly, your voice low as you stumble over your words. “But you and this little womp rat…” you muse as you scratch the baby’s little green head. “You are my family. That much is clear to me.”

Din nods once more. “I agree.”

You smile up at him. “What’s going on under that bucket, huh?”

He turns, looking off. “Just going over the plans for how we’re going to get that krayt dragon.”

“Ooh, share,” you ask, taking one of his hands and lacing through his glove-covered fingers. “I didn’t mean it when we said all of this for some banthas, you know. I’ve really fallen in love with them lately.”

Din is quiet for a moment. He doesn’t answer. “Din?”

He knows you’re going to hate him for this. Your big heart, your animal-loving, sweet talking kindness is not going be okay with this, but he has to tell you the truth. “We’re going to have to sacrifice some of the banthas for this mission to work.”

“What?” You exclaim, dropping his hand. “You can’t possibly do that.”

“We have to. We need to lure the dragon.”

“Do it some other way!” You frown, looking over at the big soft desert cows. “Seriously, please, Din.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he shakes his head. “They’re not sentient.”

“But they can feel!” You exclaim again, standing. “Fuck this. Why don’t you sacrifice yourself to the krayt dragon and see how that feels?” You shout, storming off. You’re aware it’s childish, but you stomp to your tent and lie down. You close your eyes and hope Din doesn’t come to find you.

-

Of course you didn’t mean it. Of course you didn’t want Din to sacrifice himself to the krayt dragon. So why is he doing it? Why are you on your knees, screaming to the sky that he did exactly what you said?

You’d been avoiding him since that night, since you showed vulnerability and subsequently returned to anger towards the man. You’d wanted to apologize, but you couldn’t get over the sacrificing of the animals for the cause. You just couldn’t.

Din had flown straight into the sand dragon’s mouth, just seconds ago, and is now deep inside its bowels, you’re sure. You clutch the baby to your chest and wail, agonized and terrified. Vanth stands at your side, a hand resting on your shoulder as you wheeze and sob.

But this is Din. He must have a plan.  He has to have a plan; he’s a battle-worn warrior and you’ve never seen him lose a fight. You’d stormed off before you could hear the rest of his plans the other night- maybe this was part of it. But the way Vanth stares at the dragon in terror makes you think that maybe it isn’t. Maybe Din just really fucked it up. You set the little green kid in his cradle and stand, sniffling and clinging to the metal sphere as if it’s your last lifeline to Din.

Suddenly, there’s a burst of green goo and out flies a shining silver rocket: it’s Din. “Oh thank the fucking Maker,” you shout as he lands not far from your small group, the wailing and dying sand beast behind him.

He’s covered in slime, but you’ve never been so happy to see the man. You rush to him and throw your arms around him, not giving a single fuck as you jump on him. “Please, never fucking do that again,” you wheeze into his cape, getting yourself covered in slime.

The hug is not comfortable. Din is all beskar where you want to feel his strong body, but it’s all worth it when he wraps his arms around you too. You’re crying, he knows it, and he knows just why. “I didn’t do it because you said it. You know that, right?”

You let go of him, sniffling and wiping your eyes. “Yeah. I was just so scared- oh Maker, Din, I can’t fucking lose you,” you admit, freely crying now. “I love you, I really do, and I can’t-“

“How?”

You look at him in confusion.

“How do you love me?”

This damn man. He’s full of surprises, just getting literally eaten alive by a krayt dragon, and now he’s asking you for a full emotional confession. You’re still reeling from the shock, but the fact that he’s there is enough. You don’t care that Cobb is definitely listening over your shoulder. “Every way. All of them. Romantic, friendship, family. You feel like my home and I want to be with you.” No better time than now, you suppose, to admit this all.

Din walks a step closer. “Romantic. Huh.”

“I hate that fucking helmet,” you admit, trying to deflect the emotion between the two of you. “I can never see your face. Can’t know what you’re thinking, your tone, your-“

Din cuts you off. “We ride back to the village and clean up. Meet me in the home as the suns set.”

What that means, you have no clue, but you nod. “I’m so glad you’re safe,” you murmur, putting a hand on the cut-out cheek of his helmet.

-

The town rejoices when you come back, shouting and celebrating over the dragon’s death and the plentiful meat that came with the creature. You’d joined in the reverie, taking a shot of spotchka and chanting along to a Tatooinian call-and-response they’d started. It was wonderful, really, and you and the little green thing were the stars. They admired the little green thing, cooing over him. You were proud to stand there as his mother.

The party died as the suns set. Din was notably absent from the hubbub, preferring to be alone as usual. You and the kid talked with the villagers, but as the suns started to sink, you excused yourself and found your way to the spare home you and Din each had rooms in.

Vanth and the women had taken the baby when you told them you were going to talk with Din. Not that it was hard: they all loved the little beast, showered him with affection. It was practically a competition over who got to play with him most.

The building has a warm glow as you wander over to it, wrapping your arms around yourself. The night has become cold now that the two harsh suns have sunk below the horizon, and it’s a relief to open the door to the home and feel the warmth radiating from a fireplace inside.

You find Din staring out of a window on the back, watching the endless wind sweep across the sand dunes, a dark sky contrasting the golden ground. Just his silhouette is visible, black against the deep blue. “Hi,” you say quietly as you walk in, the worn floorboards creaking beneath your feet no matter how deliberately you step. “Glad to see you got cleaned up.”

The man tilts his head in an obvious eye roll, even through the helmet. The slime was disgusting, although Din’s adoptive son had seemed to enjoy the gooey texture, as little ones are prone to. “I almost died and you’re already back to the sarcasm.”

“It’s called a coping mechanism,” you laugh gently and place a hand on his shoulder. There’s no beskar there, just soft fabric warmed by his body. It makes you shiver; even in the safety of the Crest, Din never takes off the armor. You wonder why it’s gone. Maybe to clean it?

Din’s quiet for a moment, enjoying the feeling of your fingers splayed over his shoulder in such an affectionate gesture. “You know how much I trust you, don’t you?” He asks and the black visor turns toward you, admiring what’s visible of your face in the moonlight. Your eyes glimmer and he admires them, the color he’s always loved.

You nod and smile just a little, cheeks growing rounder with the movement. “Of course.” He’s trusted you with his son, the most important thing to him in the galaxy. There’s one clear gesture even now: the absence of the beskar from his form. Maker, he’s broad, shoulders just as wide as with the metal.

He nods and shuts the window’s shutters, allowing even less light in before turning to you. There’s just a soft glow in the room, outlining the shape of the helmet and his shoulders. You can’t see any detail, just the shape. He walks over towards the long comfortable seating in the middle of the room and you instinctively follow, standing in front of it and stopping when he stops, facing him. His hands find your shoulders and his fingertips brush down your arms until they find yours. “Take off my helmet.”

“What? No,” you exclaim, frowning even though he can’t see it.

“Can you see anything?” He asks, a hand gesturing, an even darker shadow through the already murky visibility.

“No.”

“My Creed says you cannot see my face. Not that I can’t remove the helmet.”

You gulp hard, your fingers lacing through his. They’re bare. You’ve never felt them before. Often you’ve wondered if they’re calloused and tough from his work, soft from being hidden beneath the soft leather for all those years, or somewhere in between. They do fall into that in between, but they’re warm and strong and large, even without the leather casing them.

“I can’t do that to you,” you shudder, squeezing his fingers. “It’s the very thing about you, that you can’t take it off,” you start to ramble. You want to, desperately, but there’s no turning back now. If you feel his face, if you’re even so lucky as to kiss him, you’ll never be able to get enough of it. You’ll be subjected to an eternity of longing, even more than you’re yearning now.

“I want you to,” he breathes, his beskar-covered forehead falling against yours. “Please, cyare.”

“Why don’t you hate me?” You ask, your voice straining. You need to keep stalling, need to keep pushing it off or you’re actually going to do it. “I’m so mean to you. All the time,” you point out to him. You do it to keep him away, but he’s persistent. He never seems to care. “All we do is argue.”

“I may not be able to use the Force like the kid,” he mumbles, bringing one hand up to cup your face. “But I can sense your feelings. You don’t hide them well.”

“Din,” you plead, biting your lip and closing your eyes to prevent the tears that are threatening to well in them. “You can’t do this.”

“I can, and I want to.”

“Why are you so fucking patient with me when I’m only ever a bitch to you?” You practically wail, half annoyed and half honored. “You’re such a good man, Din. You don’t deserve someone shitty like me. I’ve got no hunting skills, I’m too stubborn, I’m mean and-”

He stops you by lifting your hands, setting them on either side of his helmet. “You can’t see me, so it doesn’t break the Creed. I want you to do this, because I want you.” He’s eternally blunt, but in this moment you can’t tell if it’s breaking your heart or warming it. “I love you too. Please. Take it off.”

“This is your last fucking chance, Djarin,” you tell him with a wavering voice.

“Cyare.”

“Okay,” you nod and take a deep breath. Din unlatches the little bit at the bottom that keeps it sealed against his head, and there’s a soft rush of air. Your hands grip either side and you slowly lift it off. Din takes it once it’s gone and rests it on the plush seat.

Your hands are drawn to his face like you’re being pulled on a string, your skin prickling as you feel the stubble along his chin and jaw. Your fingers trace his face for a few moments, exploring the new terrain. His cheeks feel hot, and his lips make you shiver again with how soft they are. Swallowing hard, you dare to look at his silhouette, noticing his hair is mostly matted down from the helmet. “What color are your eyes, Din?”

“Brown.”

You smile at that, and you rest your head against his shoulder, your hands dropping to your sides. His arms encircle you and it feels perfect, like you were meant to be like this for all of eternity and it took you long enough. “Of course they are.”

He chuckles at that and presses a kiss into your head, his hands finding your waist. “I did take this off for a reason.”

You lift your head, looking at his just-visible shape. “Really? I don’t know what you mean,” you flirt.

He’s silent. You’re sure he’s rolling his eyes, absolutely certain. “May I kiss you?”

The words are ever blunt, just like Din. “Yes, you bantha,” you tease, but the laughter is gone as his hands find your face again.

Just like that, his lips are on yours, radiating heat and love and it immediately tops the feeling of his arms around you. You gasp, not expecting him to do it so quickly, but your lips quickly meld to his and you sigh in content.

You stay like that for a while, hands traveling each other’s heads and necks and shoulders and sides as you kiss. He’s so warm and strong, his muscles just as sculpted as the indestructible metal that covers him. He’s so human.

After a bit, Din breaks away and presses his forehead to yours once more. He doesn’t speak, just rests there, his hands on your waist. His breath mingles with yours. For once, you’re speechless, unsure of what you can say back. The sarcasm has been stripped from your body like the beskar from Din’s.

“I better put the helmet back on,” he murmurs.

“Please don’t,” you whisper, tucking your face into the curve of his neck. You sit on the couch and he follows, desperate not to lose your touch. “Just… we’ll stay like this.”

He nods. He can’t say no when you kiss his neck feather-lightly, when your skin is pressed to his like this. He hasn’t had contact like this in years. He’ll prolong it as long as he can.

You do stay like that, relaxed and curled into each other. His arm wraps around you and you curl into a ball, nestled into his side. It’s been a long day for Din, you know, but the depth of it occurs to you as his breathing slows and his muscles relax.

He’s fallen asleep in your arms. You press a soft kiss to his neck and set a timer on the wrist-comm you’re wearing, so that you’ll both wake while it’s still dark in the room. For now, he deserves his rest. His face nuzzles into your hair, and he gives a soft sigh in his sleep. Yes, this is exactly what the beskar warrior needed: rest and you.

-

taglist:

@remmysbounty @mishasminion360 @blo0dangel @binarydanvvers  @sleep-tight1 @apascalrascal @randomness501 @spideysimpossiblegirl @notabotiswear @pedro-pastel @sanchosammy @lv7867 @greeneyedblondie44 @hunnambabe @astoryisaloveaffair @emesispo @pedritobalmando @magikfanatic @a-court-of-feysand-and-elorcan @princess76179 @starless-eyes-remain @tacticalsparkles

[milkacchan]

Request for anon: Hey! Can you please write about Aizawa having a favorite American exchange student? And if you’ve already written that can you link it?

• He see's that you're also really fucking tired

• and he loves it

• First things first one of his favorite things to do is watch your facial expressions when someone says some dumb shit bc its literally his internal dialog

• and he knows DAMN WELL you can control your expression

• you just don't care too

• an obvious difference in culture

• western culture tends to be a lot less strict and tense than eastern

• and he likes to see you act in it

• Bakugou says something dumb? The look of pure disgust on his face literally has him leaving the room in fits of laughter

• Denki answers in class? Something really really stupid? The little head drop to the desk has him giggling

• Midoriya goes on some pointless rant? The expression that follows isn't one he can quite describe but it has him REELING

• He loves it, two days in you already have a rep for 'acting like an American'

• because you really haven't completely settled into culture in Japan

• which he'll totally help you with

• Anyway you eat lunch in his class

• Bc like Mic, he's just one of those teachers that lonely kids gravitate to

• You sit quietly in the corner for a few days

• and everyday he asks how you're doing and adjusting

• There's a drastic difference in how you treat him and the students

• He gets a lot more respect, polite smiles and nods of the head

• "I'm doing well- I still haven't really settled in though," you laugh sheepishly. "Haven't really made friends yet."

"Oh you'll get there, I'm sure,"

"Hope so,"

• He'll definitely shit talk other students with you

• He might not give out their actual name, but you have enough common sense to know who its PROBABLY about

• Your native language is English.

• his native language is Japanese.

• This can be problematic

• Because you'll be sitting in class and he'll be going over something and you'll be like ????

• just completely lost

• sir??? Sir what the fuck are you saying???

• equivalent of 'aye partipradact?? Aye partipiridact skarvern.'

• Because even though you studied Japanese (you kinda had to) being thrust into the country, culture, and language was a lot different than learning it in a classroom.

• lowkey really stressful

• so on days like that, you'll avoid looking around like a lost puppy and just pretend you're taking notes

• he knows tho

• he always fuckin knows

• so tutoring is a big thing

• thats partially what draws y'all closer

• you're in there 3 out of 5 days of the week after school (during lunch too) getting help for what you don't understand

• He'll absolutely have you help grade tests though

• Its great, you know all their secrets

• Denki's a lot smarter than he makes himself out to be, even though he's not making hundreds on the tests, he does really well on the free response parts

• You can usually tell you studied and who didn't tho

• great ammo tho

• For roasts n shit

• "Watch were you look, grape boy, I'm in charge of your test grades."

"Ha! Got em."

"You too,"

• Hizashi takes care of the literature part of tutoring (he also speaks English, he can clarify in a way you understand) and Aizawa takes care of math and history

• He has learned that math is your least favorite and your brain kinda shuts down when math is shown

• You and History vibe though, you love learning about it, just the language barrier can make it confusing sometimes

• This definitely leads to a lot more opening up

• Because well fuck, you're alone in another country, and you're teacher is really the only thing giving you security.

• So he learns a lot about you and about your country

• He'll definitely try to learn a little more English to help you out when he can

• He speaks a little bit, like if he was stranded in America he knows enough to survive with a tiny bit of small talk

• And he can understand more than he can speak

• Thats partially due to his own endeavors but also, hanging around Mic (who speaks fluent english) gets to him too

• He likes hearing about America

• Will dead ads listen to you ramble for as long as you want about it

• he likes the light in your eyes when you tell him about places you'd hang out at or your friends or secret spots

• knowing Aizawa means you know Shinsou

• extra training w them???

• yes.

• Shinsou becoming basically a brother??

• Yes

• Also becoming very close with Hizashi???

• lmao fuck ya

• #deadass family time

• Yall will literally go to lunch like its no big deal

• You and Shinsou falling asleep on each other's shoulder during movie day

• You're still gonna get heavy workload and strict parameters

• bc he wants you to succeed

• though if you need a mental day or it needs to be a little slower bc you're having trouble grasping the concept he's got you covered

• Ngl he gets pretty bummed out when you have to go back

• He's not gonna tell you that straight up tho

• Tho you have his number and he sends you off with a fuckin care package

• and he thinks that the last time he's gonna see you

• ever

• :(

• BUT SIKE

• YOU GET REAPPROVED TO GO BACK

• so you're only gone for like 2 months before you're back

• BUT HE DOESN'T KNOW THIS

• So there he is

• Sitting in his classroom earlier than usual

• Just making sure everything is set up right

• And you open the door quietly with a grin

"Hey old man,"

His eyes widened for a split second before he scowls, one with not true malice behind it, "I just can't get rid of you, can I?"

"Nope." Your grin widens. "You missed me though, don't lie."

"Hold on, why are you here?"

"I got reapproved to spend my second year here."

"And you didn't tell me?"

"Nope, it was a surprise. Wasn't hard to do though "

"I gave you that care package for nothing."

"No, I definitely ate all the food on it while I was on the plane."

"Whatever," he shook his head with a small smile. "Help me set up."

"Sir yes sir."

• and so he can survive another year because you're there to keep him sane

[nevermindirah]

I've been drafting and redrafting this meta post for weeks now. It's about to be 5781 and my country that was founded on settler colonial genocide and slavery and a deeply flawed but fierce attachment to democracy might go full dictatorship in about 6 weeks and it's time for me to post this thing.

All our immortals are warriors, all have been traumatized by war. But only three of them died their first deaths as soldiers in imperial armies. This fandom has already produced gallons of meta on Nicky dealing with his shit, because Joe would not fuck with an unapologetic Crusader. But there's very rich stuff in Booker and Nile's experiences and the parallels and distinctions between them.

Nile was 11 when her dad was killed in action - that was 2005, meaning she and her dad both died in the same war that George W Bush started in very tenuous response to 9/11. Sure, Nile's dad could have died in either Iraq or Afghanistan, or in a training accident or in an off-the-books mission we won't know about for a hundred more years, but he died in the War on Terror all the same. I had to look it up to be sure because Obama "drew down" the Afghanistan war in his second term, but nope, we're still in this fucking thing that never should've happened in the first place. The US war in Afghanistan just turned 19 years old. A lot of real-life Americans have experiences like the Freemans, parents and children both dying in the same war we shouldn't be in.

I know a lot of people like Nile who join the US military not just because it's the only realistic way for them to pay for college or afford decent healthcare, but also because they have a family history of military service that's a genuine source of pride. Military service has been a way for Americans of color to be accepted by white Americans as "true Americans" - from today's Dreamers who Obama promised would earn protection from deportation by enlisting, to Filipino veterans of WW2 earning US citizenship that Congress then denied them for several decades, to slaves "earning" their freedom through service in the Union Army and in the Continental Army before it. As if freedom is a thing one should have to earn. Lots of Black Americans have the last name Freeman for lots of different escaping-slavery reasons, but it's possible that this specific reason is how Nile got her last name.

Dying in a war you know your country chose to instigate unnecessarily and that maybe you believe it shouldn't be waging is a very particular kind of trauma. It is a much deeper trauma when your military service, and your father's, and maybe generations of your ancestors', is a source of pride and access to resources for you but your sacrifice is nearly meaningless to the white supremacist system that deploys you. That kind of cognitive dissonance encourages a person to ignore their own feelings just so they can function. How do you wake up in the morning, how do you risk your life every day, how do you *kill other people* in a war that shouldn't be happening and that you shouldn't have to serve in just so that your country sees you as human?

We see Nile do her best to be a kind and well-mannered invader. Depending on your experience with US imperialism, Nile giving candy to kids and reminding her squad to be respectful is either heartwarming or very disturbing propaganda. We also see Nile clutching her cross necklace and praying. From the second Christianity arrived on this land it's been a tool of white supremacist assimilation and control, but like military service, it's a fucked-up but genuine source of pride and access to resources for many Americans whose pre-Columbian ancestors were not Christian, and it's a powerful source of comfort and resilience. This Jew who's had a lot of Spanish Inquisition nightmares would like to say for the record that it's not Jesus's fault that his big name fans are such shitty people.

Nile is a good person trying to do her best in a fucked-up world. "Her best" just radically changed. Her access to information on just how fucked up the world is has also just radically changed, because everything's so fucked up a person needs a lot of time to learn about it all and not only does she have centuries but she won't have to spend that time worrying about rent and healthcare and taxes, and because she now has Joe and Nicky and Andy's stories, and because she now has Copley's inside scoop on just what the fuck the CIA has been up to. Like, I want a fic where Copley tells Nile what was really behind the brass's decisions that led to her experiences on the ground in Afghanistan, that led to her father's death, but also I Do Not Want That.

Nile was 19 when Alicia Garza posted on Facebook that Black Lives Matter. She grew up in Chicago well before white people on Twitter were saying maybe police violence against Black people is a problem. She knows this is a deeply fucked up country, and she put on her Marine uniform and deployed with her team of mostly fellow women of color, and maybe she and Dizzy and Jay marched in the streets between deployments, maybe they texted each other when a white manarchist at a protest sneered at one of them for being a Marine. Nile's been busy surviving, and she knows some shit and she's seen some shit but she hasn't had much time to think about what it all means. Now she's got time. And Joe, Nicky, and Andy are willing to listen. (Is Copley willing to listen? I could see that going either way.)

Booker might also be willing to listen. The brilliant idea of cleaning up the rat Frenchman so that Nile can have millennia of emotional support and orgasms sent me down a Wikipedia rabbit hole, and holy shit do Booker and Nile have a lot of shared life experience as pawns of imperial wars. Obviously Booker is white and a man and that makes a very big difference. (Though G-d help me, Booker could be Jewish and France was knocking its Jews around like ping-pong balls in the 18th-19th centuries. Jewish Booker wouldn't make him any less white but it does add a shit ton of depth of common experience: military service as a way for your country to see you as a full member of society who matters, because who you are means that's not guaranteed.)

Booker was hanged for desertion from the army Napoleon sent to invade Russia as part of his quest to control all of Europe. We learn in the comics / this YouTube video that Booker was on his way to prison for forgery when he was offered military service instead of jail time. While we don't know how he felt about the choice beyond that he did choose soldier over inmate, it's unlikely he thought invading Russia was a great idea, given he tried to desert because Napoleon like a true imperialist dumbass didn't plan for how he was going to feed his army or keep them from freezing to death in fucking Russian winter.

I find it very interesting that the French Empire was at its largest right before invading Russia and fell apart completely within a few years. My country has been falling the fuck apart for a while now - see aforementioned War on Terror, growing extremes of economic stratification in the richest country in the world, abject refusal to meaningfully deal with climate change that US-based corporations hold the lion's share of blame for - but between Trump's abject refusal to meaningfully deal with the coronavirus and strong likelihood that he'll refuse to leave office even if a certain pathetic moderate I will hold my nose and vote for does manage to earn a majority of votes, ~y~i~k~e~s.

Our only immortals who have never known a world before modernity and nationalism happen to have been born of wars that were the beginning of the end for the imperialist democracies that raised them, and I think in the centuries to come that's going to give them some very interesting shit to talk about.

Nile's a Young Millennial, a digital native born in the United States after the collapse of the USSR left her country as the world's only superpower. She's used to a pace of technological change that human brains are not evolved to handle.

Napoleon trying to make all of Europe into the French Empire was a leading cause of the growth of European nationalism and the establishment of liberal democracies both in Europe and in many places that Europeans had colonized. Booker's first war produced the only geopolitical world order Nile has ever known and I just have so many feelings ok. Nile the art history nerd is probably not aware of this, and why would she be? This humble meta author is, like Nile, a product of US public schools, and all they taught me about world history was Ancient Greece/Rome/Egypt/Mesopotamia and then World War 2. Being raised in The World's Only Superpower is WEIRD.

Nile the Young Millennial is used to the devastating volume of bad news the internet makes possible. But she has absolutely no concept of a world where the United States of America is not The World's Only Superpower. In order to get up in the morning and put on her gear and point guns at civilians in Afghanistan, she can only let herself think so much about whether that American exceptionalism thing is a good idea.

She's about to spend many, many years where the only people who she can truly trust are people who are older than not only her country but the IDEA of countries.

She's got time, and she's got a lot of new information at her disposal. But there comes a point where my obsession with her friendship and eventual very hot sex life with Booker just isn't about sex at all. Nile needs someone to talk to about the United States who Gets It. Booker the rat Frenchman coerced into Napoleon's army, and Copley the Black dual citizen of the US and UK who's retired from a CIA career that he half understands as deeply problematic but half still believes in hence his mind-bogglingly stupid partnership with Merrick, are the only people on the planet Nile can talk to honestly about, and really be understood in, all the thoughts and feelings and fears and hopes of her experience as a US Marine.

And one more thing before I go get ready for Rosh Hashanah: Orientalism was a defining element of the Crusades and that legacy is painfully clear in current US-led Western military activity in Afghanistan, Syria, Israel/Palestine, you name it. Turns out memoirs by French veterans of the Napoleonic Wars are full of Orientalist language about Russia as well. I am maybe/definitely writing a fic where Booker spends his exile reading critical race theory and decolonial feminism and trauma studies monographs because he can't be honest with a therapist but maybe he can heal this way and become the team therapist his own damn self. I just really need him to read Edward Said and Gloria Anzaldúa and then go down on Nile, ok?