#i miss people so easily and i cannot deal with that right now

[havocsforest]

i feel so fucking lonely right now and i miss my friends so much even though i saw them today

i really want to spend time with them rn and go outside or even just chill somewhere together

i feel like i don't have a right to miss them because i see them semi regularly but i feel like something changed in our friendgroup and in the way we interact with each other and i'm scared that the group will break apart soon

and i miss my partner even though i just saw them a couple hours ago

its not logical to miss him after such a short time and i'm annoyed at myself and i don't know why i feel that way

i'm at home but home doesn't feel like home without my friends and my partner

[vaspider]

Look. A little advice.

Once you get to a certain amount of Known on the internet or a subsection of it, or even in a subsection of a RL group of people, there are going to be people who will make up a version of you which exists only in their heads and which has absolutely nothing to do with who you are. It might better resemble who you were twenty years ago or it might never have had anything to do at all with who you were then or are now.

You cannot stop this. You cannot prevent this. Once you get a certain number of followers or a certain amount of attention, that's going to happen: people will make up stories about you which either look through a fun-house mirror at some small aspect of who you are and twist it and blow it up until it doesn't resemble you at all, or which just have absolutely no basis in fact whatsoever.

This is just another kind of parasocial relationship; it's the kind which really sucks to deal with, because it's so negative and so pervasive. It's very real, and the frustration you feel about it is very real. Nobody wants to be known incorrectly.

But. You can't control this. It's gonna happen. No matter what you say, no matter how precisely you say it, the people who want to misinterpret you will find a way to do so. This doesn't mean 'don't pay attention to what you say,' or 'don't be purposeful and precise with your language,' but it does mean 'don't obsess over the people who are determined to get you wrong.'

You can be the most anodyne, run-of-the-mill, unremarkable human being, and the people who are determined to hate you will find something that they can point to and say 'ha ha! I told you that Spider danced with the devil at midnight! I witnessed it myself!' (It will not help the situation if you are, say, self-admittedly stubborn as fuck, long-winded, and sometimes kinda fucking obnoxious, but please realize that in the end, it doesn't really matter. This is gonna happen no matter what.)

The people who matter will look at what's being said, wrinkle up their foreheads, and say, 'uh, man, it looks like Spider was actually playing with his dog at 9 am?'

That said, if you don't have elephant-thick skin from being a marginalized-gender human being who's been on the internet since before the web had pictures, there are some things you can do to make it easier when people making things up about you starts to get on your nerves:

Establish protocols for when it becomes too much: have someone read your messages, turn off your notifications, have time where you purposefully disengage.

Establish protocols for how you interact, period: "I will block people without guilt if they engage positively with the people who spread untruths about me." "I will answer everything in public so people can't lie about what I said, because it's right there in public." "I will not answer work-related stuff in DMs, that has to go to the work email." Whatever it is, create some boundaries for yourself. Stick to them. The people who push you to bend them aren't doing that for your benefit but theirs.

If you get someone who really hits your Weirdo Alarm, trust it. Yeah, block and report, but also, take screenshots and store them somewhere that isn't easily erased. I have an 'Internet Weirdos' folder, which makes it a little easier to deal with when people start doing things like 'making threats of physical harm to me and my family.' Don't fuss, just take a screenshot and chuck it in the folder. Having that record makes it easier to just forget that it ever happened, because you have a paper trail if anybody starts doing something Real Weird.

Spend time offline, with people who do actually know you.

Don't get lost in the version of you that someone else makes up in order to make up for the shit that's missing in their own life. You aren't required to play the part that someone else is trying to script for you. It is never to your benefit, only to theirs; you gain nothing by standing in that role for them, and you lose precious seconds of your one irreplaceable life.

You could be using those seconds to look at this video of how to pick up a duck, which I think we can all agree is a better investment of your time.

[wisecrackingeric-2]

LONG ASS MESSAGE UNDER CUT!!!!!!!!!!!! ITS A MASSIVE THANK YOU TO EVERYONE!!! I’ll tag everyone whose made a star for this drawing in the replies- if I’ve missed anyone or if you wanna be added, PLEASE LET KNOW!!!!!!!

At the time of writing this, there’s about 40 minutes let of 2023, and I’m VERY DETERMINED to get this posted before 2024 so I am in a bit of a rush so alas, this may not be as well-written as I’d like it to be but that’s the price I must pay alas HDNEHENEJDN

I wanna start this by saying I’ve always had a lot of anxieties surrounding the New Years, and things changing- even just seeing posts that were from the year prior always seems to give me anxiety. Things change, people move on, while I stay with the same interests- it’s always been something I’ve struggled with, but making this has helped me come to terms with all of that and I’m glad.

Theres no better words I can say right now other than; Thank You. Thank you so, so, SO much to my friends, both new and old- my friends who’ve been here since the very beginning and have stuck by me through this whole rollercoaster- and to all of my new friends, who it sometimes feels like I’ve known you all for at LEAST five years and not like, five months or something HDBWHNWUDNDHDJS thank you to everyone who has ever been kind to me, supported me and enjoyed what I’ve created- I’ve recieved probably the kindest words I’ve ever heard in my entire life this year. Thank you to the people who stuck by me when times got tough and helped me through my own seemingly very insignificant or silly problems HDNEJENSK

This year has easily been one of the best years of my life. 2022, to keep it short, was awful- I came out as a Transgender gay man to my parents and it went awful. I was dealing with the worst mental health of my entire life and there were times it felt like there was no hope. On top of all of that, my childhood dog passed away- so all and all, I wasn’t looking forward to the future. But my loving partner introduced me to Resident Evil, and as a result the community as a whole- and to say it changed my life would be an understatement.

I know it’s obviously no secret that I have a favourite character, Luis Serra Navarro- but to say his character has changed me as a person for the better would also be a MASSIVE understatement. I’ve never ever in my entire life resonated with a character so profoundly before- as a queer and trans man, I saw myself reflected in his performance, and that means more to me than words can even describe. His character encapsulated me in a way no other has done before, and genuinely helped me accept my autism, my queerness and my trans identity as a good thing- I could write absolutely ESSAYS on his character and I have. I’ve consumed more Don Quixote media than I think I ever would have otherwise HDNEHENEJD and to say I’ve genuinely become a more confident and happier person because of his character would, again, be SUCH an understatement. It’s truly hard to describe how much he means to me, but I hope my words give a good idea.

For the first time in a very, very long time, I get to look forward to my future. I don’t see my Queerness or my Trans identity as a setback anymore; I have things to look forward to, plans I’ve made and a future I can look towards. And I cannot thank my friends- all of you know who you are- André and Andrea and everyone in my life and this small little community I’ve unintentionally formed for giving me that opportunity. Words will never be able to describe how grateful I truly am, but I hope this is close enough.

Thank you for letting me fully indulge in my autism and enjoy Luis’ character to the fullest. I’ve never felt happier enjoying something in my entire life.

Thank you everyone. For everything. May you all successfully defeat your own windmills <3

[ijustliketoreadstuff]

Lets talk about the London special trailer

Disney channel France released the trailer for the London special, lets dive in and see what's happening. I know TF1 also released another trailer but I want the majority of the special to be a surprise, so I'm just going to analyze one. I'm gonna try to piece together what parts of the trailer are in order, the first being of course Ladybug traveling to London with a very sad look on her face. The London special takes place in the season 5 finale, right after Monarch used the miraculous to make a wish , so of course she feels very troubled on account of that she just witnessed a lot of dark secrets unfold within the Agreste family, during her battle against Monarch at the Agreste mansion.

To top it all off, she even watched in horror as Gabriel chose to die to bring back Nathalie who we saw healthy and alive at the end of the season 5 finale, sitting alongside Amelie.

At this point in the London trailer, Ladybug is aware that Adrien needs to know his father is dead, but this reality will of course be very difficult for Ladybug to say and for Adrien to hear, since he has essentially now lost both his parents. Worst of all, Ladybug knows she cannot comfort Adrien as his girlfriend while she is still Ladybug, and must refrain from showing him too much emotion otherwise she will risk exposing her true identity.

Unfortunately, Adrien was just one part of the aftermath she has to confront, she also has to deal with the public who will of course find out on their own that Monarch is gone from his inactivity alone and will be needing some kind of answer to prevent them from trying to dig on their own about what really went on between Ladybug and Monarch's fight, especially once the entire world finds out that Gabriel Agreste had also gone missing the day Ladybug faced Monarch.

Marinette knows she cannot tell the public Gabriel was Monarch because the consequences from that truth alone would very quickly turn into a violent backlash against Adrien, who had no fault in his fathers choice to be the villain of Paris. She alone is fully aware there are people out there who will not listen to reason as many are already willing to turn against her alone, spreading misinformation and unnecessary hate about her ("Reunion").

Although many people close to Adrien know he would never try to harm anyone the way his father did, the pain and trauma Gabriel inflicted on so many citizens when he was Monarch, will of course leave some people more than willing to find someone to blame for his actions, and the closest to attack will be Adrien if they ever learn of Monarchs identity.

Gabriel left a great burden to Marinette when he asked her not to let Adrien find out he was Monarch, and as much as Marinette hated being asked to carry such a burden, Gabriel knew he left her no other choice, he knew Marinette's love for Adrien could be used to his advantage and force her to keep his identity a secret if she ever wanted to spare Adrien of the pain and consequences that would follow after he was gone.

Next we have what we can easily conclude is the antagonist of the special, this ghost looking person. I'm gonna go out on a limb and say this is not Lila despite seeing them in Lila's hideout, the reason being is because at the end of the season 5 finale, we saw Lila in her lair caught by surprise as a bright light suddenly appeared behind her, whatever that light was must have been from this ghost person who did something to Lila.

We don't know who this ghost person is yet, but they know Marinette is Ladybug, knowing exactly where she lives and that her earrings are the ladybug miraculous despite the jewels being in camouflage. In addition to taking the earrings, they also took all the other miraculous that were reconfigured into rings, what they plan to do with all that power, we still wont know until the special releases.

Regardless, whatever this person is doing, it's something that was not meant to happen in the timeline as we can see that their actions have alerted Bunnyx, who very quickly pulls Marinette into the burrow not long after Marinette realizes her earrings and the other miraculous were taken.

In the burrow, Bunnyx and Marinette watch as the various timelines in the time stream are turning black and disappearing, of course they will need to handle whatever it is that messed up the river of time in the first place, but what caused it? If the time stream could be affected by an anomaly such as Ladybug writing her real name on her gift to Adrien back in "Cat Blanc", then this could mean someone out there did something, something small, that they were not supposed to.

Unfortunately, without her earrings, Marinette can't do much against whoever took the miraculous and is now messing up the timestream, she needs the ladybug earrings. The only way she can use them while they are missing, is by borrowing them from another point in time when she wasn't using them. It's not the first time she had to borrow a miraculous from another point in time, they asked Fu from the past to let them borrow the dog miraculous in "Evolution". The only point in Marinette's life when she wasn't wearing the earrings to use in case of an emergency was in "Origins" when she wasn't ready to take on the responsibility of a hero, and that's exactly where we see her travel to in the London trailer. Back in "Origins" Marinette left the earrings in her drawer for the rest of the day, a perfect time for future Marinette to take them temporarily without alerting anyone or causing any damage to the timeline.

Well that just about covers everything in the trailer, now to wait for the official release, see you all in therapy!

[sexiestpodcastcharacter]

AI Bracket — Round 2

Propaganda

Imogen (Stellar Firma):

#IMOGEN 💥💥💥💥💥 #she invented a guy to just put them in situations that she couldnt do herself bcs she is . an ai . #she gave this guy to the most horrific man known to anyone and the only help she gave him was . giving him almost the same rights as humans #not according to anyone else but to her yeah #shes an ai who didn't want to work for big evil human corp so she made a guy who could let her not do that #i love her sm #i cannot hear the words ' watch it buster ' without thinking of her #shes soooooo <33333 #man i should relisten to stellar firma i miss her

The Audio Tour Guide AKA Mistholme (The Mistholme Museum of Mystery, Morbidity, and Mortality):

The ATG is a sentient museum audio tour guide for a museum full of spooky artifacts. It is both completely lovely and kind of bitchy

Sentient AI who is a real sweetie. Got pulled into too many adventures after the museum went on lockdown. Gives tours most of the time but is also the museum now and oversees daily goings on

A magic/tech hybrid AI exploring its own personhood and sentience as it grows. Could easily take over the museum it has become a part of but is a very kind soul. Most demanding it has ever been was convincing its friend to pat a cat for it.

It's a tour guide in an alternatural museum. After facing some challenges and dealing with huge problems, guide learns new things about itself and the world around it and makes new friends. Its woe is trusting people (or not only people), forgetting that they might have bad intentions. Guide is the bestest friend ever.

Where do I even begin? The Guide literally exists on those audio tour devices, go look it up its so cute. It had to deal with its growing sentience and new emotions basically on its own. Was treated terribly by the human museum staff and it had to basically debate them until they accepted its new-found personhood (but it still uses it/its yayy)(the staff have since apologized for their actions and treat it equally now). At some point it was hooked up to the museum mainframe which was supposed to be temporary, but as it turns out The Guide is actually great at running the museum and would like to stay this way. This eventually leads to a small identity crisis since it now sees itself as the museum itself, and its consciousness and responsibilities are a lot grander than when it was just a tiny little tour device. But it's figuring that out, and it still likes being the museum, thus The Guide also counts as a sapient location! It becomes besties with a creepy bloodthirsty creature because they share the struggle of being constantly dehumanized. It fucked around with the fae and found out. It has to deal with time travel bullshit. It loves cats! It got to hang out with the embodiment of knowledge itself. And did I mentioned that throughout all of this it still gives museum tours to guests?!! what a cool guy!

Guide my beloved <3 (platonic)

[gotskamstuff]

I'm gonna be honest here, words cannot describe how much I hate that Rudison thread on Twitter and how resentful I am to that person for creating it.

The whole thing is narrating fans speculations and rumors as ultimate facts on what happened to Rudy and Madison behind the scenes when in reality NO ONE knows what happened between them for certain and what angers me the most is knowing that these are exactly the type of things that make both of them (especially Rudy) even more distant and cold and detached from the show.

I might be dramatic but this shit could've singlehandedly made things catastrophic for the show, there's no way it hasn't reached them or anyone from the cast/Netflix... like, 18 MILLION views and 80k likes is insane and I know for stuff like this Rudy would lose his mind.

I honestly can't stand when the "fans" act like this towards Rudison, they're always crying about how much they miss them and how they wish they could go back to what they were and then they purposely go on social media doing and saying things that they know damn well Rudy and Madison can't stand at all, it's almost as if they do it on purpose…and then act all surprised when the two of them get uncomfortable on camera.

What good is this gonna do to them and to the show? It's only gonna make things 10 times worse and much more hostile, the only thing this helps with is creating an even bigger fracture and a more uncomfortable environment for them and the rest of the cast/crew.

If Rudy wasn't leaving the show already maybe he will now, 'cause a shit like that going viral to 18 million people AND COUNTING, I know is gonna make him (and Madison) mad.

I'mma be honest, I truly hope they sue for that thread (especially since the account is now monetizing from it with the blue check) 'cause it ain't normal how easily people think they can say and do whatever they want behind a screen about people's personal lives without any repercussions (‘cause news flesh Rudy, Madison and their partners are people whose mental health also matters).

Spreading fan speculations and rumors as real facts and creating such a malicious image for the both of them to MILLIONS is insane.

We always say "omg they're so immature" but to be honest Rudy and Madison have been far too patient for far too long, people constantly say the most deranged things to them and their partners (including friends and families at times) without any consequences...it's not normal.

On the long run shit like this inevitably has consequences on their mental health and their relationships and there’s gonna be a point when they’re gonna be TOO fed up and can’t deal with it anymore, don’t act surprised then if they leave the show, y’all did this and seem pretty happy while doing it.

That thread created such an unpleasant atmosphere right before the release of the new season and attracted so many negative reactions towards them that I honestly don't understand how anyone who calls themselves fans of the show, of Rudy or Madison can be giddy about it.

Play stupid games and win stupid prizes... don't act surprised if Rudy leaves OBX or if they don't look at each other in the face during promo when some "fans" do THE MOST to add fuel to the fire.

It’s less than 2 months since the release of a season that we've waited for almost 2 years and the fandom should be filled with excitement and positivity talking about the story and theorizing about it, yet everyone is doing the most to ruin it focusing on the wrong stuff (which are sadly hard to ignore when the consequences effect the show hence all the fans).

I hope by the time the season comes out y'all will have calmed your tits with the malicious gossips, bunch of Regina George wanna be.

[the-s1lly-corner]

May I please have a request of head cannons of TADC crew dealing with a clingy kid reader

Like two of them are basically plushies (Jax and Ragtha)

And please do take your time

TADC cast x clingy!kid!reader (platonic!)

YAHOO!! my back hurts but its okay because i drew my oc looking... (checks notes) "cunty" (doesnt know if theyre using the word right) anyways gonna knock out a few more requests; got that one friendship is witchcraft song playing on loop in my headphones so im typing like a speed demon rn RAAAAAAh

CAINE:

honestly hes probably the same with you, though like. with his eyes; he keeps an eye on you at all times. like i can easily caine being kind of negligent when it comes to kids and letting them get into harms way, but i also adore the idea of him fretting over you and trying to keep you safe. does not mind your clinginess, not one bit. always keeps close in IHAs, in fact we may even be able to joke that hes now a participant in his own games! he does it for both of your comforts, and to make sure you dont get hurt.. in cases where he cant be around, for whatever reason, he promotes bubble to babysitter to keep an eye on you; i think! reads you bedtime stories every night

POMNI:

i think i may have mentioned this a few times but pomni can get a little uncomfortable around kids; kids can be really wild and/or horrifically honest with no filter and pomni does not have the mental strength to cope, digital world or not/lh

with that being said it would take her a while to get used to you gravitating around her; i dont think she would tell you to leave her alone though. i mean, she tries to put herself in your shoes. shes losing her mind in this place and shes brand new and a grown woman. how is this effecting you? so she sticks around and just. embraces it, i think. probably checks in on you when you go to bed... kind of pauses when you ask her to stay, be it because you dont want her to go or because youre scared of monsters under the bed i think she would ultimately stay by your bed in a chair and watch over you

RAGATHA:

good news for hugging her, shes very soft thanks to the fact that shes literally a doll! honestly its rare that she would tell you to step aside so she can do something; plus like caine she generally likes to keep an eye on you to make sure youre not getting into trouble or danger,,, makes you plushies so you hang onto them when shes away and you miss her. like caine she also has a bedtime routine with you. maybe its because i just watched some adventure time today, but the ritual would be similar to sweet p's bedtime ritual (bedtime cheek kisses, tucking in, reassuring that youre loved ect ect ect) idk i just think ragatha would have that kind of energy when caring for a kid reader, clingy or not

holds

JAX:

one of the two characters who might get annoyed by your clinginess, especially in the beginning (oh boy i sure wonder who the other one is (looks at zooble)) and he might try to push you away and shoo you when you try to stick around him. might feel a little bad when he sees the sad look in your eyes when you turn away and walk away. jax, feeling bad for once? now thats rare

might try to bond with you by trying to teach you his ways of trickery; no one wants to see a kid sad, especially in a place like this and i dont think jax would be immune to your pouty face. older brother and little sibling dynamic, i think! i genuinely cannot see jax being fatherly, tbh

KINGER:

DAD KINGER DAD KINGER; do i need to say more? honestly kinger is very clingy himself with the people he cares about, given that hes lost so much he wants to make sure that those he cares about are still safe and sound. if anything, you might be the one asking him to dial it down a notch!/j

lets you snuggle up into him during bedtime stories, i think! like while the others who read to you would be sitting on a chair next to the bed, kinger would be close enough for you to lean into him if that makes sense. generally very sweet to you too, i think!

ZOOBLE:

the other one who would be a little annoyed by how clingy you are, again, especially in the beginning. zooble seems to really value their own personal time and space so its likely that they would try to set up a boundary; so you probably arent going to be able to spend every waking moment with them... that said i dont think they would exactly be... mean to you... like they dont hate you, they just tend to get irritated by small things! makes very clear communication, which is an important thing to learn! teaching moment! also cannot see them picking up a parental role, i can see them being the cool but angsty older sibling tbh. probably kind of freezes up when you hug them but does not push you away. does care deeply for you, just shows it in their own unique way

GANGLE:

oh you probably accidentally drag her around without fully meaning to! i mean im not sure how old the reader is, but lets say theyre on the younger side and they dont fully. mean to just drag gangle across the room. i mean its not like youre dragging her across the floor, at least! plus gangle is just so light, given that shes totally made of ribbon in the digital world. she doesnt really mind all the much, though... even if she did im not sure if she would speak up... lets you come and go into her room whenever, since sometimes you just miss her and she has enough trust in you not to mess with anything + sometimes you guys do arts and crafts together! yipee!

[sol-consort]

Hmmm...taboos on human/krogan coupling aside, what do you think could potentially draw any sort of krogan, male or female, to feel attracted to humans?

Would it be more of a personality-based thing considering how soft & fragile we are physically?

Looks wise?

Nada, Null, zero out of ten. We are an ugly duckling to them. The looks department has announced bankruptcy and will be shortly shutting down soon.

Well...unless you remember that the asari and humans could wear the same armour in ME1, and their statues at the temple look very similar to us. Then, by accounts, humans should be borrowing from the asari hotness in the eyes of the rest of the galaxy since we look so much alike.

+ we have guys

And Krogans hit on asari an absurd amount. Unless their attraction is solely based on asari's ability to reproduce with them? Then humans are still a zero.

We look so different from krogans that the only way for them to find us attractive would be through a "monsterfucker" kinda of attraction.

With us being the said monster.

Not necessarily an intimidating monster, but not like how you'd be attracted to an elf either, since elves are very similar looking to us.

You could make the argument that being attracted to humans in krogan society is the krogan equivalent of a human furry.

Our thin fragile necks must especially make them feel uneasy.

But they'd like our curves and fat! I'm looking at their physical build, and even male krogans have prominent hips.

Unless those are shells...

I don't think our hair is very appealing. Soft skin, small faces, and hair "fur" remind them of pyjack puppies. We're just missing the tail. Actually, the tail would've made us more appealing since Krogans still have their tail.

Our eyes! They must like our eyes. In comparison to most animals, humans have small eyes. But so do Krogans! Small eyes must be a plus. Unsure about the eyelashes and eyebrows, tho.

They have slit pupils, I wonder if they function like cats. Do our round ones make us appear constantly vigilant and focus? Like a predetor preparing to jump at its prey?

-

Personality wise?

We don't have a stick up our ass like the turians, we don't nag them like the salarians, we aren't holier than thou like the asari.

We are digestible. A little daredevil-ly, in fact, would lose an arm to pet a varren.

Let's do a little class exercise, I want you, yes you reading this, to close your eyes for a moment and imagine you're on a bus, sitting next to a krogan.

This is your reality, krogans have existed your whole life. They're rare to see, yeah, but nothing bad really.

What would you do? Realistically.

Mind your business! Duh. 99% of humans would just glance at the krogan maybe once, then go back on their phone. Nothing less, nothing more.

Now this simple act, seems to be lost on the rest of the galaxy's species who absolutely cannot mind their fucking business when a stranger krogan sits next to them. No, they have to make a big deal and either switch seat or feel threatened by the krogan, which leads to an argument.

Humans weren't there for the genophage or the war. Humans are a blank page when it comes to krogans. A new start, they really need like a breath of fresh air because dealing with any other race is too damn suffocating right now.

With time, as the wounds heal and people stop mindlessly discriminating against krogans, bridges will be rebuilt between them and the rest of the galaxy.

But as it stands today, humans are the ones most acting the most normal around Krogans. Leading to us forming the most alliance, friendships, and relationships.

Plus they must enjoy our easily influenced personality. We pick up habits from those around us, we cave under social pressure, we enjoy both the thrill and the softness of life. The same human wrestling with a krogan with little regards to their own easily breakup bones, would be down to cuddling with the same krogan on a comfy bed after they get tired.

Krogans were uplifted from the Stone Ages, and we humans are still running on old stone-age hardware bodies. We hold a lot of the primal urges our ancestors did. Evolution takes an absurdly long time to even make a dent into a species. There is very little difference between us and humans 2000 years ago.

We are feral to an extent, Krogans would absolutely adore that.

-

Culture wise?

We are diverse! unimaginably so. There are humans bound to click with krogan culture, bound to see the appeal they see, to fall in love with Tuchanka's deadly wastelands.

We can easily eat their food, we can eat most alien foods.

We didn't explore the galaxy just so we can nest up in our own cushy planet amidst our own coddling civilisation! We wanna explore dammit! Actually explore and verge into new cutleres, appreciate their customs and see if we can find ourselves a fitting place there.

You'd find humans on Tuchanka, merchants who just decided to stay one day and make this place their new home. Runaways looking for a new chance, tired of the constant social games. Humans who followed their krogan friends back home and found out that this place is pretty neat actually, think they'll stay here.

[sideboot]

In the 2011 article where Professor Schaverien publically debuts her concept of boarding school syndrome she has this fucking line, “For the first time in their life the child may be in a situation where there is no intimate contact; no love,” which pulled the ripcord right out of my spine.

Roy’s potential trauma at boarding school isn’t just about the environment he was in but the home that he was deprived of.  Roy was nine years old and there was nobody around him who loved him.

His grandfather’s death wasn’t just a tragedy.  It wasn’t just being deprived of anymore time with him or a lack of closure from being unable to say good-bye.  It was the Kent family losing an adult man who could drive and had a car.

When Roy was sent away his parents would have understood that Roy’s grandfather was going to be around to help.  He could visit Roy himself or he could take over childcare duties for Roy’s sister, so that Roy’s parent’s could make the trip.

Then there is the extra financial and scheduling flexibility that is inherent of an additional adult.  Working, retired, it doesn’t matter.  There was one more person in the family whose job it was to help take care of everyone, and by extension Roy.

Now Roy’s family is not only dealing with grief and arrangements, it might now be impossible for there to be frequent subsequent visits from the family.  It could have been very hard for Roy to make it home for the funeral.  Roy might have missed holiday’s he expected to be at home because there was no one to provide transportation.

Roy spending so much time with Phoebe may be a commitment made in deliberate response to the trauma of this event.  Phoebe is six in season one, so by season three she’s almost at the age Roy was when he went away.  Roy might find it incredibly important that he and his sister are able to provide Phoebe a childhood with not only financial security, but adults that are physically present in her life who do not have to send her away. 

From the subplot of Roy smothering Keeley, we know that Roy’s expresses  affection by being physically present with his loved ones.  He has no innate grasp that people can max out on time with the people he love.

He seems to experience a deep feeling of rejection at the idea that he would leave Keeley to go on vacation without her, as opposed to spending his time at home even if only one of them is not working.

I always stumbled at how strongly Roy reacted to Keeley suggesting he vacation by himself, especially after how easily he suggested canceling the entire thing.  I think Keeley, after being the one to push Roy towards punditry, was trying to give him permission and encouragement to do things for himself.  This is something that she herself has often needed.

But I think Roy’s takeaway emotionally was that Keeley was proposing, essentially, that it would be relaxing for Roy to abandon his girlfriend,  and that she herself was unbothered by the idea of their separation.

The entirety of his latest plotline is a showcase of the depths he will go to in order to avoid being left.  He broke up with Chelsea and Keeley.  He categorically cannot risk giving that which he cares about the chance to leave him first.

[salemshotspot]

YOURE WHAT MATTERS

Dean Ambrose x Reader

Song Fic

WORD COUNT: 2.6k

DESC: After being driven apart Dean and y/n voice their feelings to one another

Gender Neutral Reader [They/Them]

WARNINGS: Implied Alcoholism//Implied Depression//Self-Doubt//Bad Friends//Arguments//Not Proof Read//Angst With A Happy Ending//Brief Mention Of Paranoia//Manipulation If You Squint//Reader Talking Bad About Themself

RED >> Song Lyrics

A/N >> Some of the song lyrics are changed ever so slightly to either make grammatical sense or fit the pronouns used in the story! Sorry this has taken a while to get out, I’ve had a few personal issues making it difficult for me to write and at one point half of this got deleted and I had to rewrite it

TAGS: @itsvxlentine

Enjoy!

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There was no doubt that y/n and Dean were made for each other, they were like something only read about in twisted, romantic fairy tales; the insecure, shy y/n desperate to be cared for in any possible way and the unstable, brash Dean, who underneath his unpredictable demeanour just wanted somebody he could care for. Despite this ‘perfection’ both parties had their flaws, making the relationship a disaster waiting to happen, y/n and Dean hadn’t spoken in almost three weeks since Dean’s drinking and y/n’s unspoken relationship doubts fuelled by, what they were desperate enough to believe were their friends, had driven a wedge between the two. 

It was a fittingly dreary September evening, the sound of rain hammering against the windows of y/n’s home, echoing throughout the walls of the empty house, once again reinforcing the increasing loneliness y/n felt. Laying on their bed, enveloped in their own self-doubt y/n’ mind began to wander to places they couldn’t help but entertain; ‘it’s no wonder Dean hadn’t reached out, why would he when he could do so much better than somebody so pathetic, so weak-minded.’ As these types of thoughts began to fester within y/n they let out a defeated sigh, they cannot let their mind wander to that place again before they met Dean, he made their life so much better and realising this only made them feel more hopeless, as a last-ditch effort they pulled out their phone and called their two best friends, the only people they had left now Dean wanted nothing more to do with them. 

After hearing their phone’s dial tone buzz two times their friends answered the phone and greeted them with a ‘hi’ in unison and before y/n could continue one of their friends spoke up; ‘y/n if this is about us hanging out without you, we just forgot to invite you, it’s not that big of a deal’, y/n was that desperate to feel like they weren’t completely alone in this life they chose to ignore their friend’s hundredth excuse as to why they had once again been excluded from a group hangout. Putting on a forced smile in attempt to force an ounce of cheer into their tired voice y/n began to speak ‘what? No, it’s not that, don’t even give it a second thought I really don’t mind, it’s just-’ the same friend which had so easily lied to them cut them off in a harsh tone ‘it’s just what?’ ‘I just..I just need my friends right now, I know it’s stupid but I'm really missing Dean and-’ with a cruel, condescending laugh y/n’s previously silent friend cut their cry for help short. As y/n adjusted their body into a more comfortable sitting position they heard their friend continue ‘Dean?’ They laughed ‘you can’t be serious y/n Dean is an absolute psycho there must be something seriously wrong with you if you seriously miss him’; before y/n could respond their other friend chimed in with a soul-crushing laugh ‘yeah y/n we know you have to have low standards because well..look at you, you’re damaged to say the least and your looks definitely don’t make up for it but surely you can do a little better than Dean ‘The Self-Proclaimed Wildcard’ Ambrose.��  

With each word their friends spoke, with each laugh their friends shared y/n felt smaller, hated themself a tiny bit more, physically shrinking into themself to provide the smallest amount of comfort they could, y/n weakly responded ‘thanks for looking out for me guys’ before they abruptly put the phone down and sighed loudly; there’s not a doubt in their mind that their friends were talking about how rude and pathetic y/n was. Once they put the phone down and was once again greeted with an unwanted silence they couldn't stop themself from breaking down into tears, they have never understood why their friends hated them so much, why their very presence seemed so funny to them but it didn’t matter to them usually; it didn't matter when they had Dean. Usually when their friends made them feel this way y/n would have Dean to go to for comfort, for reassurance, for nothing more than conformation that no matter what they had one person who didn’t see them as a joke, who looked at them with unwavering love clouding their eyes. It was the absence of this security that made them do what they promised themselves they wouldn’t do this time; they called Dean, as usual they were the one to reach out in an attempt to make amends. 

Before y/n could question whether or not it was even worth it Dean answered the phone but stayed silent; after a few agonising seconds of silence y/n mumbled a question down the phone ‘can I come over’ and before they knew it, before Dean could even answer their question they were sitting in his driveway, gripping at their car’s steering wheel until their knuckles turned a sickening white as they began to question why they were even there, questioning if they should just drive home and forget this whole thing.  

Dean looked out of his window as he saw a car pull into his driveway, he immediately recognised the car as y/n’s, he felt a brief wave of concern wash over him as he could tell, even from the window of his house, the person sat in the car was a shell of the person they were weeks ago, part of Dean wanted to leave them there, consumed by their own emotions but another part of him knew he didn’t want this his way, he wanted theirs instead; before he could decide what he wanted to do he was already walking towards the car and knocking on the window.

Y/n’s head jolted to the right as they were pulled from their thoughts by the sound of Dean knocking on their car window, as they looked up at the man they frowned as their tired eyes scanned his features realising he looked like he hadn’t been sleeping. Seeing a frown form on y/n’s face Dean began to speak; ‘you look like shit, you should come inside before the weather makes you ill and makes you look worse’ and before y/n could respond Dean was walking back to his house, secretly hoping y/n was going to follow. Y/n sighed and decided since they had come this far they couldn’t back out now.

As y/n entered the house they froze in the doorway of the living room, suddenly terrified to enter, was this really a good idea? Before they could continue worrying Dean motioned for them to sit down. A suffocating silence filled the room and Dean began to subtly fidget with his hands as the silence made him feel powerless in a situation he already wasn’t in control of. Growing more uneasy at the silence Dean harshly questioned ‘what are you doing here y/n?’ Suddenly unable to formulate any thoughts y/n simply muttered ‘I don’t know, I was talking to my friends and-�� Dean abruptly stood up and cut them off; ‘I’m fucking going to bed, I can practically hear your friends laughing’ he spat.

As Dean walked away y/n, filled with adrenaline, stood up and, with a raised voice, questioned ‘what is that supposed to mean?’ Dean stopped in his tracks and turned around quickly, making y/n recoil in fear, regretting even speaking ‘it’s what they always do y/n’ he started in an irritated tone ‘they fucking want to break me, the way their eyes look show it-‘ but before he could continue something in y/n snapped, they couldn’t stand to hear Dean tell them what deep down they knew was right; 'they aren’t the problem Dean’ y/n shouted ‘it’s us! You’re paranoid, you’re convinced my friends, the only people that care about me are out to get you and I’m desperate enough to believe you because I can’t live without you’ and before y/n could even process what they had said the room fell silent.

‘Paranoid?’ He said in a low, almost sinister tone, Dean expected to have his paranoia thrown back in his face by a lot of people but not y/n, they lowered their head lowered in shame as Dean spoke, they took a step back as Dean began to shout ‘you think I’m paranoid about your friends? Was I paranoid when you kept knocking on my door when all I wanted to do was sleep and when I finally answered the door to your pathetic tear stained face you started with your whole ‘I hate my friends because they call me all night’ speech because you’re too weak to fuck them off so instead you let them call you all night making you feel like shit. You don’t get to call me paranoid when I deal with your problems that could so easily be fixed if you stopped being so spineless.’

Each word Dean spoke chipped away at y/n and he knew that but he was too angry to care; despite his anger blinding his scenes Dean was still very observant of the way y/n was carrying themself, he could tell they hadn’t been sleeping, it was only when they hadn’t slept for days they would be brave enough to argue back with Dean, this is why in his fit of anger Dean did what he knew best, he pushed their buttons. Dean was never good with the emotions that came with caring for somebody, let alone loving someone the way he did y/n which is why whenever he was worried about y/n and if they had been sleeping he’d make a passing comment about how they seem physically rougher around the edges, it was his way of showing he noticed things about them and he decided that this was a perfect time to do so as he knew them well enough to know this would push them over the edge and destroy their wavering resolve.

Mockingly Dean commented ‘the notches of your spine are looking sharp tonight’; as he did so y/n clenched their fists in an attempt to stop themself from crying as they almost softly began ‘you think I’m the only person to blame here?’ They almost laughed ‘you’re right, I’m pathetic, I’m spineless, but I’m not stupid Dean’ which caused the anger fuelled man to raise an eyebrow, unsure what they were getting at. ‘Before all of this I could see it in your eyes every time I told you I love you, you looked disgusted, you found it funny and you thought that I wouldn’t notice if you mouth the words back each time.’

Dean tried to interject but y/n continued; ‘I’m not like you Dean, I can’t throw a punch towards the wall whenever I’m angry but that doesn’t mean I won’t pull my punches, I’ll use my words to knock your teeth out one by one if you try and tell me I’m the only problem here Dean.’

Y/n fell silent expecting Dean to start screaming and shouting, they expected him to do anything besides stand in front of them silent. Y/n’s adrenaline levels began to fall causing tears to well in their eyes which is what caused Dean to break his silence; ‘could you hold your tears back just for another minute’ he asked in an unreadable tone. He sarcastically claps and begins to speak ‘if only you could be this harsh with your friends’ he stops himself and, with air quotations repeats the word ‘friends’ before he continues to speak ‘well what’s a friend without a secret you pretend doesn’t matter? Your secret is your friends don’t see you as anything more than a joke y/n and I can’t keep doing this’ he stopped speaking for a minute before continuing, strangely softly he continued ‘I have friends and they all matter, they all care about me and you don’t know what that’s like and quite frankly it kills me y/n, it takes someone special to get me to care about them and when I do I can’t stick around and watch them willingly destroy themself.’

The words echoed in y/n’s mind ‘ it takes someone special to get me to care about them’ and without thinking they asked in barely a whisper; ‘you care about me?’ Which caused Dean’s expression to soften in confusion, there’s no way y/n thought he didn’t care about them is there? 'Then why won’t you tell me you love me Dean, why does the idea disgust you so much?’ Y/n asked close to tears. Dean slowly took a step towards y/n and placed his hand on their cheek, using his thumb to wipe away a stray tear falling down their face; ‘y/n I do love you and it terrifies me, I couldn’t say it before because it scares me that I care about someone so much I can confidently say I love them.’ Dean sighed and continued to speak; ‘y/n I know you can do better than someone like me but it doesn’t mean I don’t love you I’m just scared, it’s like I’m a gas leak and you’re a woodhouse, we’ll both go up in flames when I inevitably break and I don’t want to be the one to do that to you, I won’t be the one to break you.’

‘Dean-‘ y/n tried to speak but Dean spoke over them 'your friends are right about me, I’m unstable and there’s no reason you should be with me but they are not right about you, you’re so much more than the creature they see you as but because of them whenever I look at you deep down it’s like you’re walking on water with rocks in your just trying to get home.’

With this y/n finally began to cry causing Dean to pull them into his chest as the two rocked back and forth; once they had calmed down y/n spoke softly once more ‘you’re right Dean, you’re always right, I just don’t know what I’d be without my friends, I just want to feel like I belong somewhere.’

Dean warmly smiled at the person in his arms and whispered as he titled their chin up to make them look him in the eyes; ‘you’d finally be yourself’ he stopped for a second then continued speaking ‘you’d be mine.’

Y/n placed their head back on Dean’s chest and began to take in everything he had said; maybe they really didn’t need their friends, this is something they had always known but hearing someone else say it seemed to give them to confidence to believe it.

Y/n was pulled from their thoughts by Dean awkwardly clearly his throat, ‘I’m sorry for what I said y/n I don’t think you’re pathetic or spineless' y/n was shocked as this is the first time they can remember Dean truly apologising for anything without being asked; ‘and you know what? You could cut my tongue out of my mouth on any given night and it wouldn’t change a thing, it wouldn’t change how much I love you y/n.’

For the first time in weeks y/n felt safe, secure, with this feeling a wave of fatigue washed over them; their lack of sleep and high emotions from this interaction tiring them out; ‘I love you too Dean’ they began ‘I’m sleepy’ they mumbled, prompting him to take the both of them to his bed where they both lay holding each other as if scared letting go would make them lose the other. Y/n smiled to themself before finally falling asleep.

Maybe this time they would finally be happy now they had Dean back by their side.

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A/N >> First time writing a song fic so sorry if it’s not great, drop any writing requests in my inbox!

[duncneydivorce]

Super-speed as a cultural framework

Perhaps the most iconic Quicksilver comic panel of all time is that beloved moment with Dr Samson when Pietro reveals to him what it feels like to be ‘living’ at super-speed.

The general consensus among most people seems to be ‘quicksilver is easily agitated, arrogant and abrasive because his constant perception in high speed means he must deal with the world moving slower then him all the time’.

This is almost completely wrong, not at all how his powers work, removed from context and most importantly totally misses the entire point of the character. I’m convinced most of the misunderstandings of the character come down to the misrepresentation of this scene.

So how does quicksilver’s powers work and what does this scene actually mean?

For starters, Pietro is unique among speedsters because he cannot turn his powers ���on’ or ‘off’ ; that's not how his powers work. He is not connected to an external source nor is he manipulating existing energies to increase his velocity. He just IS speed. The way he lives, breathes, how his heart beats it’s not something he does, it's just how he exists.

Now how is this shown in the story?

Quicksilver’s powers are used to speak to his mental illnesses. Pietro is not ‘Like That’ because his powers isolate him from everyone else. Rather, his powers isolate him from everyone else because he is ‘Like That’.

Quicksilver is not like reverse flash, who is trapped in a constant state of super speed by an external source, which drives him mad. He is not like Rogue who grows distant due to the nature of her abilities. Quicksilver’s powers are not the source of his issues, rather they are merely a manifestation of them. Yes, Pietro’s powers do isolate him from the rest of the world but this is not a constant state he always lives in, nor is it some kind of curse that comes with his powers. They disconnect him from everyone else because HE self isolates from everyone else.

But to truly understand what any of this means you must know who he is.

Pietro’s childhood is defined by the margins of poverty and persecution he is born into. His and Wanda’s origins examine the systemic racism, impoverishment and criminalisation of Romani communities. Since their debut their stories centre how their identities as marginalised immigrants from Eastern Europe affect their place as ‘superheroes’ and day to day individuals in America. The murder of their parents, their involvement with magneto and their alleged delinquency in the brotherhood are a result of this marginalisation, one that must be redeemed to secure their safety in the western world. I have talked about this before in more detail but to reiterate my point; pietro grows increasingly restless and anxious about the tokenism and prejudice they continue to face in adulthood. He carries the unresolved traumas of his childhood and struggles greatly with the culture shock and migratory grief. He is ostracised during his marriage in a classist, prejudice society and by his in-laws. All of this is the source of his more destructive behaviour. Consequently, he deliberately self isolates and over the course of his history he is never able to truly find a home in the avengers.

THIS is the reason why pietro is so distant and aloof. It's the reason why he is so distrustful, so volatile, so stubborn and chauvinistic in his ways. It’s the reason why he was always so “me and my sister against the rest of the world”, so overprotective and at times controlling.

I always found it frustrating when people treated that moment with dr Samson as a big revelation so we can finally understand why quicksilver is so aggy. We KNOW why he’s this way, they have out right told us already just read literally any quicksilver story ever.

Even within the very same run pietro revisits his session with the doctor and ponders on how his attitude and disconnect from the others is a result of childhood trauma.

Think of it like an allegory for displacement.

His powers are stunted because HE is stunted. His traumas lead him to become estranged in every single one of his interpersonal relationships at one point or another. But they also bleed into his super-speed. As such, he is LITERALLY isolated from everyone else.

It’s about the loneliness of the immigrant experience, it’s about migratory grief, it’s about the fear and anxiety and isolation of racism. This state of total disconnection from the rest of the world is merely what that feels like. No matter where you go you don’t belong and you’re cripplingly lonely, it’s a way of showing readers he’s not being coy or dramatic or difficult on purpose, that's just what it feels like to be a displaced refugee. That is LITERALLY reflected in his stunted inconsistent super-speed, trapping him in a prison of his own making.

It's important to understand Pietro is not constantly in this state. It's not something he has control over but notably his hero work subconsciously grounds him, it's the only time he is certain of his ‘role’, whereas personal relationships are something he always struggled with.

This was one of the most significant contributions to the character, however, I really want to emphasise that Peter David did not set out to create a meaningful metaphor about anti Romani racism because he IS an anti Romani racist. I suspect he was speaking to Pietro’s mutant-ness but it was not anti-mutant prejudice that oppressed his community, murdered his parents and subjected him and his family to extreme poverty and violence, it was racism.

Rather I think Saladin Ahmed is more deserving of this credit. While Ahmed acknowledges that David set the foundation, it was his work on Quicksilver: No Surrender that was able to meaningfully explore this aspect of the character.

The reality is most writers are not thinking about these kinds of things when handling quicksilver, most of them don’t even know it’s something they should be thinking about. This is what has made Quicksilver as a speedster stagnant for so long. I’m not trying to gate-keep who can use this character, but it’s not a coincidence that an immigrant of colour was the first writer to find an imaginative and nuanced way to extrapolate on Quicksilver’s speed.

Just to very briefly provide context for this story, in Avengers: No Surrender Wanda and Synapse work together to momentarily remove the mental blocks that cause Pietro’s inconsistencies, allowing him to access the full extent of his speed. He ceases to exist as he out runs the very concept of perception. We pick up in Q:NS. Quicksilver is in a state of exponential motion, completely isolating him from everyone at a rate he’s never experienced before. As Pietro has yet to actually control his abilities and needs help to unlock this speed he is stuck in this state. This is a story about generational trauma, which emphasises that only pietro can ‘save himself’ and return. By the end Pietro, for the first time in his life is able to consciously control his abilities to ‘slow down’ and return to everyone else.

There is a deeply and inherently cultural framework behind Pietro’s powers that are used to connect to his identity as a refugee as well as empower him, even the rate he feels speed is framed through the axis of oppression he faced growing up. He has come a very long way since he started out and personally I believe Ahmed’s work should set an example for how to continue to evolve this character.

[frostycatblr-fandom-files]

Poets and Painters (Golden Dawn Part 1) - Wolffe x Reader [Mature Fic]

Warnings and Information: In desperate need of just one day to take his and his men's mind off the war, Plo Koon orders that everyone make a stop on a relatively uninhabited planet in a peaceful sector of the galaxy to… have a picnic? Just what does he have in mind? A certain flint-gray Commander is finding it hard to believe that they're just on the planet for a day of R&R in the middle of a war, so he isn't letting his guard down. Perhaps someone will help Commander Wolffe find some way to help him relax before the day is over… 2nd person POV. Reader is undescribed save for minor details like personal touches to a uniform, and has a gender-neutral alias. Allusions to canon-typical violence, mention of injury and loss. Plo just being a dad to the 104th Battalion in the background. Swearing. Discussion of more adult themes and some lewd jokes (this is not an Explicit fic but it is Mature; Minors please DNI). Takes place on a fictional planet.  **The referenced 302nd Legion is an OC unit, led by my genderfluid Jedi OC named Caelen [they/them used for clarity].**

Word-count: 7,650

“I am Plo Koon.” The Kel Dor Jedi introduces himself carefully, speaking in slow and unhurried timbres to ensure no one will mishear him. “What is your name, little one?” She does not divulge her name, instead she takes Plo’s hand. She might be no older than five, maybe six. She's slightly taller than anticipated next to the Jedi as he kneels in the soft grass, nearly eye-to-eye with him. 

Screwing up her little, rounded features in an expression of utmost concentration, she takes his hand between her own, a little firmer now, to scrutinize. A quiet minute elapses as she examines the Force-user’s hand, the nail-cap, and the arm-guards he wears. The thick glaze of twilight, the lack of the moon’s light, does not appear to make her inspection difficult in any sense. Unfortunately, you and most of the battalion miss most of the delicate beauty in the micro-expressions the Kel Dor will see. 

When she speaks, it's a soft, awed voice. “Wow. You're a different kind of star person!” comes out in a peal of giggles. “So are they!” she adds, pointing to you and the commander next, then many of the men in formation behind you. 

Dozens of voices parrot ‘star person’ with a great deal of confusion and speculation behind their general, behind you and Commander Wolffe as you stand so close together. 

The backs of your hands are close enough to touch, knuckles nearly grazing with the other’s.

Someone hisses a sharp reminder for quiet! as the rumbling wave of voices begins to grow in volume - no doubt either of Wolffe’s sergeants. The 104th falls silent, tongues loosened in nervousness reigned in at once. Everyone still must tread carefully right now. Peace can still be so easily broken if offenses have been spoken, and disrespect has been shown. 

Your tentative situation here cannot allow for that.

“That's right, little one, we are different…” General Plo chuckles in agreement up to that point. “But I am afraid we don't know what you mean by star people.” 

The Chossi elder, same as before with the bent back, offers slight clarification to diffuse the confusion. “Young Mir means we are made of what stars are.” While the girl, Mir, is called back to who must have guardianship of her, Tack bravely steps forward with his datapad in his hands, seeking permission from the Jedi to offer his insight. 

“Um, General, if I may?” 

Permitted to speak his thoughts with a promising nod by the Wolf Leader, Tack takes a great deal of care in his words, projecting his voice to be heard by all. “The Chossi might mean we are all ‘star people’ in a very poetic sense, but, scientifically, they are right. They are star people. So are we, given that we’re also carbon based lifeforms. Stars are made of hydrogen, helium, and traces of all other known elements including carbon, to, ah… really simplify everything…” The initial confidence and bravado peters out near the end with a particular look crossing over his face, seconds before a hard swallow. 

Shit. Feel like I spoke too much, it reads to you. 

He likely wants to slink back to the line-up, and just keep his mouth shut for a while. Another Chossi elder, a kindly-looking woman with smile lines this time, her hair laid in many braids over the right shoulder, bids him to wait. “We are just the universe trying to make sense of itself, aren’t we, young…?” She speaks so kindly to him that it halts him in his steps. He’s been asked for his name; it would be rude to refuse to answer. Tack swallows again, less hard than before.

“Tack. My friends and brothers call me Tack.” the researcher answers. 

She smiles, and there’s such a radiance to it, such a profound sense of kindness found within. It puts Tack a little more at ease than before.

“Then we shall too.” Her name is Solladara, you learn; but as she admits, the name is a bit of a mouthful, and all are welcomed to call her Dara, or whatever is easiest. Adding as an aside, she asks that you’ll have to forgive any communication blunders. “Your language is not quite alike our own. Similar, yes, but… the structure. It can be difficult to grasp for some of us, born long ago.” Dara says with a mild laugh. (Amusingly, there’s a sympathetic murmur of agreement from Plo Koon. Either through rumor or an instance of accidental eavesdropping, you’ve heard that he’s three-hundred-eighty-something years old, but you aren’t certain if that’s in any way the truth.)

In any sense, it comes as further relief to you, when murmuring from the corner of his mouth Commander Wolffe says “Truly so much for your sketches.” with the slyest of smiles. 

“And so much for some of your… preparations, I’m guessing?” you return with a smile just as small, just as sly. You still haven’t the slightest idea what any of those preparations are, nor why Plo Koon had been so cryptic in his delivery. You don’t really know that you want to know the probabilities they prepared for. Falling under attack is a prudent assumption, but beyond that… Had they begun to prepare themselves for death? For the loss of someone in the chain of command, if things went askew? 

Had Wolffe been preparing himself for some small chance he may die, accompanying and defending his general? He had certainly shown no hesitation when he had thrown himself on top of you because of the blow darts fired from the treeline; gentle flesh and noble plastoid serving as a shield. There are no doubts he would not do the same - and more - for the one who raised a blue kyber-blade to defend him and the surviving remnant of the 104th over the planet of Abregado. 

Commander Wolffe does not verbalize anything, but he confirms your suspicions with a slight dip of his chin. The way he grits his teeth, sets his jaw, there’s some comment he likely does not feel it is the appropriate time to say.

“... maybe we should thank the Maker for that too, then.” you offer with a skyward glance, fixing an errant strand of hair back in place. “And the Force, to play it safe.”

The smile he offers is ephemeral, snuffed out by distraction.

There is an invitation issued by the Chossi elders posed to General Plo - extending to the whole of the company - to return with them and their people through the forest to their settlement. There, things will be discussed and questions will find answers. Ritual and practice to partake in and show you, they say. 

When it’s decided the Jedi will go, and the Wolfpack shall follow, you know you’ll need to - want to - stick close to the Commander after everyone has ensured belongings are gathered; like his helmet, still laying in the grass where it has been dropped on the hill. 

You may be ‘just Arcadia’, but without regard for how the whole of his battalion would see him in that climactic moment, Commander Wolffe had been prepared to jeopardize his own safety to ensure your own when the image of the moon had been swallowed in cloudcover… He had forgone the most important part of his armor for you to increase the odds of reaching you before any harm came upon you. 

Stooping, you pluck the helmet from the lush bed of grass it had fallen in. Relief floods your lungs to find the visor uncracked when he admits he may have thrown the damn thing rather than dropping it when you go to collect it together. “No, it looks okay.” you assure him, surrendering the sunbonnet into his hands. “Maybe it’s just the internal HUD to be worried about now. Here you go.”

This next grin, full of cautious relief and gratitude, feels sweeter than any million-credit smile as he situates his bucket against his hip. “Thank you, Arcadia. Not to worry; I can work with a bad HUD.” They have training for that, both official and unofficial, he explains. These little insights into the long-rooted tactics of the GAR have been a great fascination, today. 

And though you yearn to learn and understand more, you will not push for it. 

What you’ve been invited to see is a privilege, you know that.

So little is their own. Their blasters, their names, their breath. And a budding, secretive culture. Several troopers appear to be speaking in a kind of code as you and the commander make your return to the awaiting group, the tail end of some conversation being something that makes Wolffe’s lip curl with disapproval. 

It’s Waves from earlier - even in the low lighting conditions, you can plainly make out the extra length of his curly hair he draws his namesake from - who gets the brunt of Wolffe’s questioning. “Care to repeat that, private? Who’d you hear that from?” The commander’s voice is less of a disgusted snarl than you might’ve assumed from him, if what Waves said had really been so offensive. 

“I-I heard it from Orchid, sir…?” is explanation enough, for the time being; the commander only sighing before taking this young soldier by the shoulder to offer him a word of advice.

“Don’t repeat everything you learn from him, without looking it up first, you understand?” 

With the nod of an embarrassed man, the private apologizes. “Y-yes sir. Sorry, sir.” Waves’ bottom lip is set in a pout before he resets his helmet. 

Waiting until you’ve gotten a little further ahead while tailing Wolffe to ask what had happened, you press only once for what had been said. “Another of Orchid’s sexual innuendos?” Maker alive, his wealth of knowledge… Someone paid a little too much attention to the health and body lessons. Though… maybe the medics are grateful for that. Wolffe doesn’t provide you with any answers, only amused chuckles for your trail of thought. 

“It didn't sound like Basic, either,” you note in a whisper, “was it something in Kel Dor?” 

This the Commander answers. “No. Not Basic or Kel Dor.” 

“Strange…” You decide to let it go, figuring that now wouldn't be the best time to dig for details with the whole of the battalion following after Plo Koon and Commander Wolffe, where you have been invited to walk side-by-side. He lets another moment elapse in silence before he realizes you aren't prodding. 

The brow cloven in two by the stripe of scar tissue lifts rather subtly. You're not going to ask? All you offer is a minute shake of your head. With the company of Clones, the Jedi just in earshot, you certainly wouldn’t. Not now, anyways. Not when the Chossi elders kindly lead you back to their settlement. 

The adolescents, on the other hand, are not quite so warm; but at least they are civil, and warn you of dangers in the dark. “Root here. Take care not to trip.” one particularly brusque Chossi announces, thumping the end of a bo staff thrice on the aforementioned root to make his point. “One bad step, you’ll be hobbling in the dark.”

You thank him, and take a little extra care in your footing going forward. Would be bad to twist your ankle all the way out here, so far from the gunships at this point, for a number of reasons. Not only would it suck to get injured in the first place, it’d put a damper on making the most of this invitation for everyone; with an injured civilian, the opportunity would have to be cut short. They’d likely determine they need to go back, take you to the LAATs and some poor sap besides Clone pilot Warthog gets saddled with escorting you back to the Triumphant… The typical duties of their performance as a relief and recovery unit.

And, dutiful man he is, it’d likely be Commander Wolffe doing it of his own volition, silently adding to an ever-growing pile of stressors on a day it was hoped he could relax, before General Plo even had to ask.

After all, you think, the kind of look Sergeant Sinker was leveled with when he (in a well-meant fashion) offered to give you a lift since you were struggling to see well in the dark from the flint-gray commander had to mean something other than just back off.

There were a lot of curious murmurs as Wolffe took you by the hand; to better lead you through the forest, you assume.

There is a subtle shift in the clouds covering the face of the moon by the time the one-oh-fourth makes it to the Chossi settlement, a sweetened change in the wind so deep in the forest. It’ll be hard to go back to the oxygen-recyclers installed aboard the flagship and not feel suffocated by comparison after this. There’s a whispered word of concern somewhere in the sea of Kamino’s sons for General Plo that you catch somewhere behind you, a note of anxiety about the anti-ox mask’s capabilities to properly filter everything as it should. The brothers around the worrier tell him he won’t need to be concerned, the Jedi will be fine. 

You think it’s sweet of the soldier to be so mindful of the differences in physiology. 

At the invitation of the general and commander, you’ve been invited to sit among those making up the forefront of who stands across the large gathering-fire from the Chossi peoples, those who will be watched closest. 

“Unless, you’re not comfortable with that.” Wolffe offers you the opportunity to melt into the shadows while everyone is moving themselves in position, a soulful expression of understanding and sympathy. You’re not required to do anything here, like him. You do not have the same levels of expectation to perform any particular way, like him. When you kept sticking your foot in your mouth by continuing to address the native peoples of Little Archossi, it was out of panic and the ingrained norms of larger society to introduce yourself to people unknown to you. 

“You have a choice, here, Arcadia.” Wolffe reminds you, doing a near-perfect job of masking his envy. Commander Wolffe is not afforded many of these same choices… The leash around his throat binds him to his responsibilities. (You suspect it would take more than simply freeing him of the lead held in the hands of the Grand Republic’s army, too.) 

Under the scrutiny of his eyes, the cybernetic making notable, periodic adjustments as the Chossi stokes the gathering-fire so it burns brighter, you deliver your verdict. 

“I stayed on Little Archossi because I wanted to be here when General Plo made contact with the people of Little Archossi… The choice to go to the settlement was kind of made for me, but I… I think I will stay.”

He had been hoping you would say that, as evidenced by the subtle release in his tensing brow, and the freer nature of his next inhale in such close proximity. You can hear the unspoken question when the scarred brow lifts, just long enough, and just for politeness sake. 

Are you sure?

And the truth is, if you told him, you aren’t. (You’re still a bit of an absolute nervous mess after provoking the Chossi warning, even though nothing negative came of it in the end.) But it’s knowing how unfair it feels to you that he does not have a true choice in this matter that makes you agree to stay by him and the Jedi. It’s knowing you would not like being ditched were you in his boots that keeps you rooted to his side. 

If you thought of him as a new friend, shouldn’t you damn well act like it? 

You will stay. And you do your best to ignore the curious looks it earns you from most of the battalion; their dark eyes as unfathomable as the ocean burning through your uniform with every possible thought under the blanketing of stars in the galaxy. Wolffe’s men and brothers will have their attention drawn from you soon enough, you know, aside from perhaps a few. 

There’s a soft clearing of the throat behind you and to your left, vying for a chance to speak before things begin. “Commander? Hey, Commander!” Soapsuds calls in a muted whisper, just an arms reach behind you. Wolffe doesn’t turn at the waist to look, not with the bright eyes of the adolescents of the settlement held fast to him and General Plo most of all, but he still does acknowledge his brother. 

“Yes, Suds?”

“I’m sorry about the flare gun, Commander. I panicked.”

Wolffe offers a near imperceptible nod to show he’s heard his soldier, eyes trained on an elder’s hands as they repeatedly lift and lower things in and out of the reach of flame. The silver-haired sergeant theorizes to the Kel Dor in a low whisper that what they’re putting in and warming are some kinds of crude vessels for drinks, but he can’t get a great look. Boost is ready to whisper something back to Soapsuds to cover for Wolffe’s silence, maybe some soothing sentiment that he’d have done the same too (because it would make only too much sense that of the four survivors of Abregado, the brothers would be fiercely protective of those other two kin) when the commander gives a curt, but emotional reply.

“I panicked too…”

That’s all he can afford to say before Dara and the man with the bent back - who she’s just called brother, his name Row - signal for things to start, a collective hush falling over this new clearing like a favorite blanket. There are giddy, excited giggles from the little ones on the Chossi side of the fire that’s proving helpful for keeping the atmosphere from growing too tense for everyone seated around this symbolic gathering place. Dara and Row wait patiently for the children to settle down, again, turning a blind eye out of kindness to some of the responsibility falling on the Kel Dor’s shoulders for being more than a little distracting. Drawing from a well of infinite kindness and compassion for all, Plo Koon has made sure no child’s greeting has gone unanswered, no matter how brief, or shy it had been. 

It’s remarkably easy to forget for the moment he’s one of the sage members of the Jedi Council when you have the opportunities to witness how he interacts with children, with his men. Today he’s been so… different. Different in a way that’s difficult to articulate. You wonder for a moment when a little Chossi child curiously toddles around the fire and determinedly plops himself in the Dorin-born Jedi’s lap, if this has ever happened at the Jedi Temple, seeing the effortless nature in how he helps the child into a more comfortable position. The child looks as content as can be, happily tucking tiny fingers around a singular digit of Plo Koon’s right hand. The Kel Dor’s expression softens, something fond and amused all at once. 

“Friends and strangers,” Row begins in a captivating tone, “before we invite you into our settlement, our home and heartlands, we have gathered you here not only to answer the questions of the one who calls himself Plo Koon, but to offer you promises of peace.” There is a shaky gesture from Row, asking for someone with steadier hands to assist in this next part. “Traditionally, this means a drink is offered to the visitors.” Row elaborates as a clay cup is extracted from the edge of the fire. “But, since there are so many of you, it will suffice to have only one accomplish this: partake by proxy.”

Courageously, a Clone you believe to be named Kwill - a sort of ‘cultural communications expert’ or something if you recall - steps forward and takes the offered cup in the outstretched hands of Solladara’s brother. “Thank you, I'll take this to my Commander.” The Chossi elders find this acceptable and allow for the earthenware cup to be taken with a small word of guidance. 

“Sip only.” Row and Dara advise with sage nods, their copper jewelry swaying in the firelight. 

Commander Wolffe hesitates to take the cup from his soldier, a clear look of why me? etched in every feature. The resulting conversation is hissed, and urgent. 

“What is this, Kwill?” 

“Symbolic offer of peace, Commander. General can't drink it with the anti-ox mask. Has to be you, sir.” 

He already knew that much, star’s sakes, he was hoping Kwill could tell what this drink was. He resists the urge to roll his eyes, no matter how subtly he believes he could pull it off. Wolffe understands he needs to show the utmost respectful behavior possible, or risk sparking offense and discourse. 

He wouldn’t dream of disappointing General Plo like that. 

“Kark. Smells something awful.” the complaint comes under his breath, nose creasing with the first whiff of the pungent contents. 

Sitting next to Commander Wolffe, it smells like someone ripped up a handful of grass - mud and roots included - and threw it into a bucket of seawater, and then dumped everything into a blender before turning it on for two seconds. You can't fault him for complaining, and only feel admiration when he grits his teeth and follows the siblings’ instructions. 

Sip only. A full mouthful, and you wouldn't be surprised to find anyone immediately retching afterwards. It’s a long, tense moment after the very deliberate swallow Wolffe makes where he tries to find his voice. 

“... thank you, for the offering.” the flint-gray Commander chokes out with some minor prompting from Kwill. “Very, um, gracious.”

Without a word, the Jedi takes the remaining drink and opts to hold the cup in his free hand for the remainder of the proceedings. Politely, Plo Koon addresses his own thanks not just to siblings Dara and Row, but to everyone sitting on the Chossi side. “As already said by my commander, we thank you for your gracious offering and the invitation that was kindly extended to all of my men, whether they be soldier or crew.” Here, he also takes the opportunity to make apologies and further elaborate on why the battalion is on Little Archossi. “I sense there is still much distrust and suspicion, regarding our presence here. We had never meant to cause any alarm when it was decided to visit your planet.”

“And why did you?” comes the curious question from a third elder, the patina of her copper jewelry not quite so deep like Row or Dara’s. “What brought you to our planet, perhaps so far from your own homes to the heart of our clan?”

It’s a very good question. One the 104th has been trying to needle out of the Jedi from the start, and now, he finally provides the full truth. 

“I had hoped this day would prove relaxing for my soldiers and crew, a minor change of pace from our typical day to day. But I felt called to this sector of space, and came to investigate.” Drawn by the Force, he explains, after peculiar dreams. Visions filled by verdant seas of swaying trees, specklings of the color blue, and other things that had been obscured by a cloud, for the moment. But here, in the heart of their settlement, he feels a familiar presence. “The Force feels strong here, perhaps amplified by crystals I have noticed many of the children wearing.” 

The cup is set aside so he can comfortably hoist the clan-child higher, and Plo Koon draws attention to the small bangle of copper that encircles the wrist, inlaid with a semi-milky white stone. 

“Kyber, is it not?”

Tack looks like he's itching to get a closer look from where you sit, hearing that the general suspects it's kyber. Later it'd be explained to you that the heart of a ‘saber is something Tack has wanted to see for a long, long time now, but it's a desire he's kept pretty secretive. 

“You're familiar with kyber?”

Plo Koon bobs his head in response to the question, carefully settling the child back into his lap. “Kyber is what powers a Jedi's weapon, after they are of age, and have completed the Gathering.” 

The word Jedi sends murmurs of recognition from many of the older Chossi inhabitants, and a few children. Conspiratorial whispers are sown into the wind as Row and Dara confer with other community figureheads. Haven't they heard that word before? Isn't that what one young family believed their child to be? You steal a furtive glance at the child’s bangle, the cloudy stone, and ponder quietly. If you can commit enough of the detail to memory, you imagine you could capture the likeness in graphite and ink some other day. 

Discreetly as you’re able, you slip the sketchbook from your belongings and scribble down a couple of notes on the very last page by the amber glow of the fire. The breathy skritch! of the ink stylus is noticed by Wolffe, catching his attention like it had this morning. It does not take him long to decipher the Aurebesh scratchings, a lip curling with masked amusement. Maybe curiosity. 

“‘Like a piece of a star’, hm? Are you sure you’re not a poet, too?” 

“Shh…” you warn him, casting a nervous glance over to the opposite side of the fire. “Trying to be discreet.”

Worrying you’ll be noticed is needless; the Chossi are more focused on sussing out other matters with Plo Koon, asking him if he knows of a child who was taken to Coruscant many years ago now. He is given a name and a general description of their young clan member to discern for a moment. It takes him a small measure of silence to work out the perplexities. “I recognize the name, but if I recall, this individual does not claim it as their own any longer. Jedi Knight Caelen is the only one who fits the rest of the description. I must admit, I was unaware they hailed from Little Archossi.” As a further kindness, General Plo promises that this Caelen who leads the 302nd Legion of the GAR is in good health, and if it would be of interest to the clanspeople, some sentiment from Caelen’s homeworld can be passed along to them in due time. 

Force-sensitive children may be taken from their homeworlds and raised on Coruscant, but they do not have to sacrifice their cultures and customs. 

And sensing this will take some time to complete, Plo Koon suggests he confer with the elders without holding a large audience for it for the remainder of the night. Though obedient, patient men, the General does not want to keep the Clones from exploring, or perhaps making connections with the inhabitants that have invited them to the heart of the forest, where the star-people call home. 

“Yes, a wonderful idea,” Dara agrees, her smile-lines deepening, “perhaps… some of the children would be interested in helping our guests explore in the moonlight?” Indeed, the cloud-cover previously obscuring the silver glow of the moon has nearly and completely dispersed; the night vision would not be necessary to any who stray beyond the reach of the gathering fire, now that people are free to stay and listen to the discussion, or go and explore. 

The little ones don’t need a second suggestion before they’re breaking away from their side; more muddling of the boundary between stranger and friend without reservations. Clones find themselves climbing to their feet, following after their beckoning, tiny tour guides, leaving their helmets where they’ve sat. 

You’re considering staying and listening to the discussion, then going and having a look around the settlement afterwards. But Sergeant Boost has another idea for you, and Commander Wolffe, when Wolffe says he’ll join you in exploring later, assuming that’s what you’ll be doing, telling Boost he’s free to go, too.

“Heh, I don’t think so, Commander,” Boost replies with a defiant smile and cheek in his tone, “I’ll stay and listen for a while. Have fun exploring with Arcadia.” He won’t budge, either. He tunes out Wolffe’s insistence to get up, maybe keep an eye on Orchid, much to the frustration of the flint-gray commander. Not even trying to bring the General into it works; the Jedi offers that since Commander Wolffe took the symbolic cup, he agrees with Boost that Wolffe should have a brief reprieve. And you should too, Plo Koon adds. 

Sithspit, guess you’re kind of forced to go exploring, now...

Wolffe has been quiet and partly withdrawn for the past five minutes; save for the muted crunch of gravel and twig under his feet, he is little more than a silent ghost beside you, sometimes behind you, as you move through the settlement. You don’t - can’t - blame him. But you just want to make sure he’s okay, seeing his face set in something of a moue. 

“Hey… Wolffe?” You pause under one of the trees in order to talk to him, somewhere out of the way, off the path. “If you want to go back and listen, you can. You don’t have to follow after me. I’ll be okay.” The attempt to be assuring and dispel his concerns feels a bit lame once you’ve said it, but the brevity should do you more favors in the long run. “I can find Soapsuds, Orchid and Tack, stay near them, if-”

“That’s not the problem.” Commander Wolffe cuts in, wasting no time. “It’s what was said at the gathering fire. General Plo brought everyone here for more than one reason, just as I thought.” The tone is… difficult to discern here. With such a heavy thought weighing on his mind, the mild and bitter tang of anger in his voice is expected, but there’s distress here too. An undercurrent of vindication. A gossamer-thin disturbance in the utmost trust in his general.

“You must be upset with him.” you postulate, to which Wolffe is quick to shake his head no. “Hey, it’s okay if you are. I’m not about to go off and tattle like a fucking child if you admit to being upset, or angry, or even feeling betrayed that General Plo didn’t tell you - his damn second in command - what it is we came here for. You’re human, for star’s sake, you’re allowed to be angry. I almost want to be for you!”

You’re regarded quietly, thoughtfully, by the Clone commander following the increasingly emotional admission that you feel frustration for him in this situation. Full lips remain pursed together until the fire in your tongue has calmed and quieted itself, his ever-observant eyes half-lidded once he finally speaks. 

“General Plo must have had his reasons, Arcadia…”

“You don’t sound certain of that.”

With a slackening in his shoulders, it speaks more truth than any singular agreeable word could. A heart’s beat of silence fills the space between you and him before he allows himself the short confession.

“It’s a hope, for the time being.” 

Until the 104th makes it to the durasteel halls of the cruiser, Wolffe will not have the opportunity to confirm any of these suspicions. Before he can have a discussion at-length with the Kel Dor Jedi about what’s transpired here today, he intends to keep his comments to himself. Plo Koon will take the commander to his personal quarters to have the conversation uninterrupted, most likely; a small but meaningful act of compassion and respect for the concerns of a war-scarred soldier. His second in command. 

Yes, maybe you were right. Maybe the General should have told him.

For now, he reminds himself that he’s here, and this is where his focus needs to be. With his brothers. With you. 

On you.

“That’s… fair.” you decide in a quiet voice, dodging the potential for eye-contact with a wayward glance into the Chossi settlement. 

Many tall huts populate this area, each built around large, mature trees. You see the similarities to Comet’s sketch from before the late afternoon of the decaying house, where moss had grown over every shingle in a blanket of life, and the roof had begun to sag under the green weight of it all in the absence of the key-holder. (Where had the homeowner gone, to never return and leave the wilds to reclaim the structure?) These stand as humble testaments to wood-working prowess, and a great respect for the trees themselves, too. Care has been taken in building around low-hanging branches, rather than lopping them off, in some of these Little Archossian homes.

Curiously, hanging off the eaves of each hut, you notice windchimes made of kyber and copper. 

Are these abundant resources on Little Archossi? 

“Look,” you say, directing his line of sight to one set of chimes slowly spinning in a gentle breeze, “that’s got a lot of kyber in it… Do you think those had anything to do with the strange flutter General Plo felt when he approached the settlement?”

“... twenty-seven pieces.” Wolffe counts. 

“On that one chime?”

“On all of them.” comes the awed answer.

The number must have some significance to the people here, likely either cultural, religious, or rooted in superstition. Tiny little clues to a rich, inner life glimmer and glitter in the moon’s cold glow, throwing subtle fractals of light all around you. Twisting and turning to take it all in, the commander’s DeeCee tucked into the belt of your uniform begins to work itself loose and threatens to drop. You’d grown so used to the weight of it in such a short time, you’d nearly forgotten it was there. With care, you resettle Wolffe’s weapon, assuming he’d prefer you kept it on your person for some peace of mind. For both of you. 

Traditional weaponry cannot be underestimated, but you have no reason to believe the people of Little Archossi are of any threat to you and the soldiers of the Republic. (If anything, your concerns are turned to wildlife.) Several soldiers walk by, children of the settlement perched on their shoulders grinning bigger than nexus. Soapsuds is one such soldier, carrying one child on his back with a second and third clinging to his legs, all three of them giggling in delight with every careful step. 

“Oh, Arcadia! Commander Wolffe! Didn’t think I’d see you there.” The child on his back gives you a polite wave, which you return with laughter of your own.

“Aww, making friends, Suds?” you tease. 

“I guess so! I lost track of Orchid and Tack - been trying to look for them.”

“And your six new eyes are helping you look?” the commander muses, the sarcastic question bringing a brief smile out of him. Suds only offers a sheepish grin, his shrug softly bouncing the child perched on his shoulders. He can’t be sure. Plus the little ones would probably have trouble determining the differences that marks each man apart from his brothers. 

It certainly proves difficult, but not impossible. 

Through broken Basic, intermingled with the native language, you and Commander Wolffe are able to navigate the settlement in search of the soldiers you’ve made better friendships with today. The children prove less of a hindrance to Suds’ movements than you would have expected, as well; he’s able to keep up with Wolffe’s brisk pace, probably to the latter's growing annoyance. What had been giggles before is now full-blown laughter from each of these boys, who are holding on surprisingly well. They must be strong like the Clones, or just possess particularly firm grips. 

Even in the mingled moonlight, Commander Wolffe sees many Chossi children comfortably perching themselves in the branches of the trees with his soldiers. Some pairs have found themselves in rather lofty boughs, even, but his brothers hardly seem phased. More concerned about these children falling out than themselves. 

“That would make me too nervous, I think…” you admit after seeing Comet climb into one of these trees with a woven bag full of soft fruits slung over one shoulder. You understand the soldiers of the GAR possess rather well-muscled physiques, capable of great strength and stamina that make for great stories to listen to from your workstation, but it’s the speed that Comet climbs with that makes you maybe more than a little nervous for him. 

One of the boys clinging to Soapsuds’ legs decides they’re getting off here, and both climb into the tree after the Clone with two ovular markings on his helmet. It’s the fruit they’re after, calling it “hash-sah” when Comet offers some to them too. Seeing Commander Wolffe, he tips the bag in silent communication, offering some to you too. You decide to take one, but Wolffe declines. 

“No thank you. Comet, have you seen Orchid and Tack?” 

Comet first tosses one of the hash-sah fruit down to you, large enough to fill both of your hands, suggesting maybe you can share it with the commander in case Wolffe changes his mind. “Last I saw them, they were two trees to the northeast from here, sir.” He’s fairly certain that’s where they’ll be, anyhow. He throws two more hash-sah fruit down to Wolffe, saying Orchid and Tack may want to try the fruit, should you find them there. “Oh and the kids are saying not to eat the seeds, the seeds are bitter!” he calls after you as the three of you begin heading northeast after thanking him for the fruit. 

It does not take long to find the brothers Soapsuds lost track of, exactly where Comet told Commander Wolffe they’d likely be. Huddled at the base of a tree, Orchid and Tack are having a closed conversation between themselves, discussing the 302nd as you draw near. That was the legion of the GAR General Plo had claimed this Caelen led, as you recall. And recalling further back still, this might be your answer to where Tack’s researcher friend is stationed, too. 

“Can’t you ask Cypher? You’re friends with him, aren’t you?”

“I am,” begins Tack, scratching the back of his head, “but, he’s often a bit slow to reply to my questions… It could be a while before he tells us what’s up with their general and unit.” 

Like trying to pull rancor teeth, you recall. “Could you try sending Cypher a nice picture of a bug and then follow up with questions?” Behind you now, Suds says that’s awfully clever, and surprisingly sneaky. Soapsuds still has the little Chossi child clinging to his back like a Kowakian monkey-lizard, slender fingers having found stable purchase in the Clone’s armor. Nothing will make the girl let go, either. Not even for sweet-rations, when Tack offers some as a bribe. 

“Looks like you’re carrying her around for a while.” 

“Kids tend to weigh less than a typical field kit. I’ll be fine.” Suds says with a smile as he takes the sweet-ration and breaks it in half, reaching over his shoulder to offer a portion to the little girl. She gives it a curious sniff before stuffing the whole of it in her mouth, crumbs dusting her cheeks. “Hah, you really liked that, didn’t ya? Here, little one.” Suds gives her the other, uneaten half of the treat, kindly sacrificing his portion. It’s eaten just as eagerly, more crumbs littering her face. 

“Think the girl likes chocolate as much as you, Suds.” Orchid remarks with a gentle laugh, helping the child clean her face by offering her a wetted cloth he’s pulled out of his kit somewhere. Dropping his voice into a low whisper, he asks his brother if that was the last of the chocolate he had.

“Yeah. It’s okay, though.” 

Chocolate, true chocolate, is a rarity among the allotment of sweet-rations they get. It’s a rarity for you too, but you can at least get your hands on artificial chocolate as a special treat to look forward to once a month; you have no idea how often the Clones get it… You rattle down a note in your datapad that when you make it back to the Triumphant, you should see what you have to offer to Soapsuds. You’re quick to tuck the tablet back among your things just when Tack gets a return message from Cypher.

Hold on: you’re currently WHERE? 

The air practically punches out your lungs with laughter when the next message reads “Who snitched about the bug trick?” in all capital letters, and Tack tells his friend that if he wants to know, he better answer the rest of the questions he’s been sent. He’ll have enough time to give Tack answers, too, since one of the Chossi children approaches the little group that’s been formed with an invitation.

“Gray one?”

Though everyone here wears gray, with the slate of your uniform and the flint of the 104th’s paint, everyone figures the child must be using the same manner of address that Elder Row had in the clearing, speaking to and singling out Wolffe. Recognizing the girl, he responds promptly. 

“Yes? Mir, wasn’t it?”

Nodding, Mir points behind her. “My big sister wants to show you something.” Wolffe’s eyes fall upon you first, before his brothers. You can almost see those clever cogs stirring up some strategy to convince the child to allow you and the three soldiers to come along with him, if she really does mean just him, but there’s no need to worry. “They can come too.” Mir promises, grinning brightly as she reaches to take Wolffe by the hand. 

Perhaps you imagined there would be more hesitation, but Commander Wolffe is quick to give the girl his hand, and allows Mir to guide him through her community, slowing his militant stride to avoid rushing her. It’s practiced, you know. You wonder how many relief and recovery efforts he’s engaged in where he’s walked hand-in-hand with a child, perhaps ushering them from their war-torn homes… leading them to safety. Did all their hands feel so small? 

When he had held your hand, better leading you through the twilight than before, you had once again felt how wholly warm he was. But what had also been noticed was how his hand compared to yours; the map of calluses that lay beneath those raven dark gloves, and the grip-strength with every finger that wrapped around your own… Well you’re almost ashamed to admit it, but your mind turned back to that dirty holonovel you’d mistakenly opened earlier with the pilot throttling both his steering controls and his junk at the thought of someone special to him. 

Mir has taken Wolffe, with you, Tack, Orchid and Suds (the girl still on his back all the while) trailing after him, to one of the many shallow depressions in the soil that the community utilize as firepits, calling to her sister that she’s brought the gray one and a few others to come watch. Mir’s sister pauses in fanning the low-burning fire to greet you all, “Welcome. Come sit, come sit. Mir insisted that we show you something.” 

Once more, you and Wolffe find your places around the fire beside the other, palms planted in the rich soil. Your fingers brush against his momentarily, and you hastily apologize in whispered tones, hoping the light of the fire does not betray the color in your face that has nothing to do with heat-flush. 

You imagined those hands - again thinking of that holonovel - stripped of those gloves, and Commander Wolffe, rid of the rest of his armor… and the under-armor too… carefully pinning you to a bed somewhere, his private quarters perhaps. His touch flows between being velveteen and slow to rough and ravenous, some product of conflict in his need to satisfy certain sensual demands.

In fact, the mental images are starting to get a little more vivid now, the longer you’re near this fire. You swallow heavily and focus on the laces of your boots while you reign in your imagination, but it’s proving immensely difficult.

Maker alive. 

Mir’s older sister listens to the young girl’s curious babblings with patience, waiting until her sibling stops. “We imagine you have seen the little blue flowers that grow here, yes?” she asks, corners of her mouth curled in a smile.

“We’ve seen ‘em.” Tack answers with an eager nod, “Dinocaeruleus anthos.” 

Mir whispers something, and her sister hushes her. “I’m getting there, Mir. We call them twilight troubles, here. They can be harmful, when handled incorrectly, or taking honey from the wrong harvesters. But they can also be… helpful.” Her mouth quirks in another smile as she looks over everyone. “You’ve all been here long enough to become covered in twilight pollen.”

There is nothing visible to your eyes at least, but you don’t wholly doubt it with how many of those flowers you’ve been around today. The laundry sector of the Triumphant is going to become very busy decontaminating a whole battalion and crew’s worth of blacks, undergarments, and uniforms. 

“What makes them helpful?”

“Gi says it makes you creative!” Mir exclaims with excitement, no longer able to contain herself. 

With a long-suffering smile, Gi confirms that though it’s putting it a bit simply, her sister is correct. 

The poets and painters of Little Archossi use the pollen and other botanical byproducts of the twilight troubles to encourage their natural creativities and spur their inspiration. If you’re patient, she can ask Mir to go get some examples of their local artistry while she prepares something special for everyone since you are guests here on her planet.

Thinking of others before himself once again, Wolffe makes a quiet remark that he imagines you and Tack would be happy to see samples; Gi’s offer is agreed upon. 

Golden Dawn is the last segment, I promise! Just splitting it into parts. If you would like to add yourself to my tag list for any future fics, the form can be found here.

Taglist: @msmeredithrose @lonely-day3636 @dukeoftheblackstar

[Masterlist]

[Early Morning] [Midday] [Late Afternoon] [Evening] [Deep Night] [Here]

[Golden Dawn pt. 2]

[jbuffyangel]

Best Friends: Arrow 1x19 Review (Unfinished Business)

“Unfinished Business” takes a hard look at Oliver’s friendships with Tommy and Diggle, as one relationship crumbles and the other finds stronger footing – after a few missteps.

Prepare yourselves. I might write about the flashbacks this week because Shado provided an information download which was sorely needed.

Let’s dig in…

Oliver and Tommy

Oliver revealed his true identity to Tommy three episodes ago and it feels like their friendship has been a bomb waiting to explode ever since. A girl who partied at Verdant dies from a Vertigo overdose, which puts Quentin hot on Tommy’s trail and Oliver hot on The Count’s. This poor girl sadly is the catalyst for the explosion between Tommy and Oliver we’ve been waiting for.

The “evidence” that convinces Quentin Tommy is dealing Vertigo isn’t exactly irrefutable. The girl texted Tommy before she died, which Tommy easily explains because he receives texts from hundreds of people every night trying to get into the club. Her request for a “hook up” is not for Vertigo as Quentin believes.

The second piece of evidence raises the eyebrows, but Tommy has an explanation – albeit a shady one. There is ten thousand dollars missing from Verdant’s operating budget. Quentin believes Tommy used it to buy Vertigo, but he used it to bribe the zoning commissioner into skipping their inspection. Bribery isn’t great, but it’s a far lesser crime than dealing a deadly drug. L*urel could drive a truck through all that room for reasonable doubt.

This episode is another Merlance highpoint. L*urel believed in Tommy one hundred percent and he called her baby. Just leave me to my grave to die a happy woman.

After Tommy refuses Quentin entry into Verdant without a warrant, the detective comes back with one and it leads to a heart stopping moment. He wants to specifically look at the sub level not listed on the inspection’s floor plans. Ever the dutiful detective, Lance pulled the county records and knows it exists.

In my mind, I know this is not the way Oliver’s vigilante hideaway is getting discovered, but the panic in Oliver’s eyes always sends me to Stressville USA. Especially when he types the code!!! He’s shooting those panicked looks at Tommy who is as cool as a cucumber.

Quentin enters the The Hood's bunker and there’s no bunker! How Tommy moved all that equipment and replaced it with bottles of booze I will never understand. We simply have to believe in the magic of television y’all. Tommy is not going to rat Oliver out and he quite literally saves his ass.

Something Oliver should have known, but his lack of faith in Tommy is evident. It’s something Tommy cannot tolerate, not after everything that’s happened between them. He cannot believe Oliver thought he was dealing drugs out of the club.

Oliver doesn’t understand why Tommy wasn’t honest about the bribe. Oliver loses me right off the bat. Team Tommy all the way. Let’s list out the things you have not told Tommy, Oliver and we’ll see who has the longer list. YOU HID YOUR SECRET SUPERHERO LAIR IN THE CLUB YOU OPENED WITH TOMMY AND NEVER TOLD HIM ABOUT IT. A bribe is chump change in comparison to that lie.

Tommy: Let me ask you a question, pal. What have I done in the last six months since you’ve been home that would lead you to believe that I would sell drugs?

Oliver:  In the last six months? Nothing. But before I left you played hard. You played with bad people who were into bad stuff.

Tommy: So, did you Oliver. But I changed just like you did. Now you put arrows in people who do bad things.

Oliver gets owned in this argument, because Tommy is right. He refuses to see that Tommy has truly changed, but still expects Tommy to understand he has.

Source: @htbthomas

Oliver’s changes are a tougher pill to swallow. Tommy cannot understand how Oliver can kill people so easily and, quite frankly, wasn’t one hundred percent sure he wouldn’t end up with an arrow in him if he told Oliver about the bribe.

Is this insane for Tommy to be wondering? No, I don’t think so. We know Oliver doesn’t kill easily. We know he’s fighting a nightly war and there is a steep cost to this mission.

However, Oliver has not opened up to Tommy about what happened the five years he was away and he’s not Mr. Joe Here’s What I’m Thinking about being The Hood today. Killing is something Tommy cannot understand, but Oliver expects him to accept it with little to no explanation. Then he has the nerve not to trust Tommy? Seriously?

Source: @htbthomas

What Tommy thinks of him is a verbal gut punch to Oliver, but he deserved it. Unfortunately, this fight is not one Oliver can fix with a simple apology. Tommy has reached his limit and who can blame him.

Tommy: This club is important to me, but to you it’s just a front. You want me to keep your secret, help you be this thing you’ve become, but you refuse to see me for what I’ve become. I’ve got just a bit too much self-respect for that. I quit.

BOOM. YASSS MY SON!!! Way to stand up for yourself Thomas. I was so proud of him telling Oliver where to stick it.

Tommy: I’d prefer we skip the I-told-you-so’s, but the nightclub wasn’t really working out. I guess I need something more boring, stable… I guess what I’m saying is - I need a job.

TOMMY WHAT ARE YOU DOING??!!! WORST. DECISION. EVER.

Tommy is back in the arms of the Big Bad Malcom Merlyn. For one brief shining moment, Tommy stood tall on the moral high ground, but not five seconds later comes plummeting back down to work with the sludge of the earth.

Source: @fogsblue

Tommy has every right to be pissed at Oliver, but his father is not the answer. That man is a hellscape. Whatever positive changes Tommy has made he is in real danger of a serious backslide. Now that Tommy is on the outs with Oliver, Merlyn can lead his son right to his very own villain origin story. And Tommy may lose sight of who he really is.

Oliver and Diggle (Felicity)

Oliver is firing on all cylinders tonight with his bros. After accusing his best friend of being a drug dealer, Oliver pitches a hissy fit over Diggle not being available the second he’s needed.

John is distracted because he’s consumed with avenging his brother’s death and killing Deadshot. While Oliver was trying to stop a hostage situation with a man high on Vertigo, Diggle was handing over information on Deadshot to a friend from ARGUS.

Hello Lyla! This is her very first Arrow appearance. These two had more chemistry in this single scene than any scene with Diggle and Carly.  I don’t know what obsession this show has about siblings dating the same people, but it’s enough already. I have to deal with this crap on The Vampire Diaries.

Oliver is furious Diggle ignored Felicity’s phone call. John hilariously tells Oliver not to get his panties in a twist. He’s completely fine. Oliver pretty much puts his hands on his hips and says, “You couldn’t have known that!” They sound like an old married couple.

John is a little put out Oliver is not more understanding. He thought Oliver would understand his vendetta against Deadshot, since Oliver is walking around with a whole damn list of names from his father! But that’s right. It’s a mission. Not a vendetta. Where’s Helena? We need her around if we’re debating this again.

Diggle chooses to be more specific and reminds Oliver The Count almost killed Thea, so his fervor over getting this drug and criminal off the streets may be a little personal too. Oliver says nothing because it’s true.

Diggle: I can’t move on with my life knowing that he’s still out there. I thought if anybody got that it’d be you.

Oliver doesn’t say anything here either because that’s true too. #TeamDiggle.

Felicity and Oliver discover there’s a new antipsychotic drug added to Vertigo, which makes Oliver believe The Count didn’t break out of the asylum like he thought. Maybe he faked his escape like he faked the crazy.

Close, but no. The Count really is three paper plates short of a picnic. It’s his DOCTOR and a very burly orderly who are manufacturing Vertigo. Honestly, I did not see that one coming.

It’s a Vertigo episode, so Oliver is getting drugged, but this time Diggle does show up to save him. He takes out the horse sized orderly, and Oliver kills the doctor with three arrows. It’s not often The Hood requires more than one to get the job done, but his vision was a bit wonky, so he used three just to be on the safe side.

Both the orderly and the doctor had to die because they knew Oliver Queen was The Hood. Those are the rules. The interesting choice Oliver made was not to kill the Count, who is babbling like a toddler on a telephone.

Arrow uses this moment to draw a very important distinction between Diggle and Tommy. After the boys return home, Oliver wants to know if Diggle is ok. He’s the killer in this family, not John.

Diggle: I’ve killed before Oliver. It’s just been a while.

There is no judgment from either man. It’s just quiet acknowledgement that killing is necessary sometimes. But that doesn’t make it easy.

Tommy’s anger towards Oliver makes him blind to his humanity. Oliver is not a psychopath. He does not kill for the enjoyment of it. He is doing what is necessary to save the city from some really bad people. Tommy takes it too far believing killing is easy for Oliver. He’s furious Oliver doesn’t see the change in him, but the truth is Tommy doesn’t see the change in Oliver either.

This is something Oliver never had to explain to Diggle. John does see the change in Oliver. He stood by quietly as Oliver grappled with killing The Count. Diggle didn’t make any speeches. He simply left space for Oliver to make that decision on his own.

If Oliver chose to kill The Count, John would’ve understood that choice as well. He wouldn’t call him a murderer. John encourages Oliver to make different choices, but he also meets Oliver where he’s at. Maybe Oliver would open up more to Tommy if he offered less judgment like John Diggle.

Diggle is curious why Oliver didn’t kill The Count and he tells him the truth. There just didn’t seem to be a point with the Count chained up and lost to madness.

There are two things Oliver is not saying. He was convinced earlier in the episode that he made the wrong decision allowing The Count to live and was just a teensy bit mad.

Source: @lucyyh

But he couldn’t fire the arrow in the end.

Felicity’s gentle reassurance that locking The Count up was the right call hit her intended mark. If killing is truly a last resort, then Oliver has to utilize other methods of dealing with criminals. Oliver has shown more restraint ever since Felicity joined the team. He hasn’t stopped killing, but he does listen to her.

Source: @lucyyh

The second is Oliver believes killing an unarmed man in that condition would be wrong – like stabbing someone in the back. He’s not a threat in that condition and The Count truly didn’t have anything to do with the Vertigo being unleashed on the city again. There are rules to war and those rules keep his humanity intact.

John Diggle has Oliver’s back, so in return Oliver will have his and is making Deadshot a top priority. Couldn’t we have just done that from the beginning and skipped their couples fight?

Neither Oliver or Tommy can see the other for who they truly are. Yet, people Oliver met barely a year ago have more faith in him than his childhood best friend and vice versus. Sometimes history stops us from allowing change in the people we love.

You can see why Oliver is keeping his identity secret from his family and L*urel. It's not just about their safety. He's afraid they will all react like Tommy.

But there's no baggage with Diggle and Felicity, so Oliver has a clean slate. They can see Oliver for who he truly is. It's becoming clearer with every episode that Diggle (and Felicity) are Oliver's best friends.

Shado

Like Felicity, Shado is a breath of fresh air to Team Island. She is beautiful, kicks ass and knows a thing or two about a bow. Oliver has been helpless majority of the time. I am not expecting him to become a super secret agent man like Slade Wilson in a couple of months, but he does need to perform a function on this team other than dead weight.

Shado takes it upon herself to teach Oliver how to shoot, but she does not start with the bow. She begins by telling Oliver to slap a bowl of water. Like the idiotic American he is, Oliver is annoyed, but doesn’t really have anything better to do, so he slaps the water in the bowl. By episode end, his hand is strong enough to pull the bow string. This woman accomplished more in a day than Slade Wilson did in months.

She also provides some much-needed Yao Fei backstory. He was general in the People’s Liberation Army (the Chinese communist army).  The military committed a massacre and chose Yao Fei to take the blame. They sent him to Lian Yu for the rest of his life. Fryers knows this and wants Yao Fei to take the fall for whatever he’s going to do.

And we thought The Count was nuts.

Source: thearrowgifs

As for Shado, she spent years searching for her father. A man told her he knew where Yao Fei was, but kidnapped her instead and brought her to Lian Yu as leverage over Yao Fei. It took nineteen episodes to get that information. Yeesh.

Shado: I’m worried, this island, what he must have had to do to survive. That it changed him.

If this sounds ominous it’s supposed to. Not all change is good. That’s true for all of us - even Oliver Queen.

Stray Thoughts

“You could’ve just said he was nuts.” I like sassy Quentin.

Maybe it’s my whole Buffy history, but Shado and Slade sparring felt very sexually charged.

Budget cuts and the CAMERAS are the first to go in jail?!!!

This will always be one of Diggle's best lines.

TOMMY HAS FELICITY’S PHONE NUMBER. Oh, the fics this detail launched.

What did we ever do in the bunker without this perfect gumdrop of a human being?

“What’s happening now isn’t your fault.” Felicity should’ve tattooed this on Oliver’s arm. It would save a whole lot of time.

“My mom does yoga.” Ollie is just so… Ollie.

1141 is the passcode to the bunker. The Green Arrow was created November 1941 (11/41).

Listen to the Watchover podcast reaction to 1x19!!!

If you’d like to support the blog, please buy me a cup of tea!

Disclaimer: Any gifs on the blog are not mine. If you would like a gif removed from my reviews, please message me

[whumpy-wyrms]

UMMM… IT’S TIME TO GET WEIRD, OKAY? Bill Cipher and Anton meeting and getting silly is not leaving my head and it’s HIS FAULT. book of bill spoilers probably and some vague tllr spoilers that i’ve already talked about before

something something it is five years ago from present day tllr and Anton is depressed as fuck for reasons i cannot say (but you all can probably put the pieces together by now). he’s alone because Pierce left, he’s the most sad sopping pathetic wet cat he has ever been, and he decides to do a shit ton of horrible experiments on himself and clones of himself because he has nothing left and science is the only thing that he knows. but even still, he has no goal and no motive, his clones become horrible fucked up abominations that are an insult to life itself. he wallows away in his own misery and drinks glowing green science liquid to the ease the pain of reality and fucks with his own memories and he really doesn’t gaf anymore about what happens to him. this is all canon btw

ummm Bill fucking Cipher notices a genius scientist who’s alone and sad and has nothing to lose. you know what that means!

Anton’s a weirdo, Anton’s an outcast i mean he was created by a mad scientist and has lived isolated in a secret lab doing science all his life for fucks sake. he has no purpose anymore and Bill decides to give him one. Anton has never really considered the possibility of inter-dimensional travel because he and Pierce had always been focused on their goal of immortality and the limits of the human body. so this is something new and interesting and something that has absolutely nothing to do with Pierce so he jumps at the opportunity.

Anton is also. sad and alone! he wants a friend so bad and he is sooo easily manipulated! he hates humans (Pierce) and does not care if this weird floating triangle demon is a danger to humanity because every human he has ever known has either hurt so many people including him (Pierce) or left him (died).

they make a deal!!!! fuck yeah!!!! they shake hands and blue fire and shit!!!!!

so Anton finally finds his purpose again. and that purpose is helping this weird little muse in his head build a portal to other worlds. he does not know that Bill is only using him to create a gateway to the nightmare realm and cause the apocalypse so he can take over the universe. and if he did know that, he may or may not change his mind about all of this i mean he’s a bit fucked up too

Anton is kinda like Ford in this part, he sees Bill as a friend and likes hanging out with him and misses him when he leaves for months at a time. he lets Bill enter his mind whenever he wants and possess him (Banton) and thinks he’s the answer to everything. they have fun together. they get silly together.

um obviously this does not last forever as Bill is a sadistic manipulative freak who was only using Anton for his own personal gain and after Anton found meaning to life again he kinda realized that he DIDN’T want the world to end after all. Anton is scared as fuck of Bill now and tries to kill him just like Ford and that definitely drives him to the brink of madness. Anton whumpee arc am i right

OR maybeee not maybe he helped Bill do it and weirdmageddon happened and it was a fun and joyous time. Anton is weird!!!! he might have actually done it that son of a bitch!!!!

also debating if i want Anton to just move to Gravity Falls after Pierce leaves. maybe he is just like Ford and just wants to study the weirdness there and then comes across some stuff and summons Bill. but i also like the idea of Anton building that huge triangular portal in his own lab.

Dew sadly wouldn’t be in this au because it takes place five years before Anton decided to get his shit together and get another actual test subject. maybe this is a good thing. Basil is here though and hmmmm i dunno what her opinion on Bill would be honestly. i don’t know if Anton would actually tell her about Bill but i think he would. maybe they’re all friends

i don’t know what else to say ummmm i probably won’t actually Write this au but im definitely gonna draw stuff for it maybe in the form of tiny little comics and silly drawings. the idea of Bill possessing Anton is the silliest thing ever it fills me with so much joy. i’m not sure if they would fix each other or make each other worse. those two are just two silly guys looking for chaos and who cares if they’re a bit fucked up and evil honestly. my two favorite blorbos who make me the most insane are both rotating in my head at the same time and i’m interested to know how this will change me as a person

hold on a minute here i just thought of something ELSE! let’s say this au takes place years after Dew and Anton hypothetically go their separate ways. in this hypothetical scenario let’s say that after Basil died, Anton decided to let Dew go for real because he felt bad or something (actual au that has been a WIP for months lmao).

Anton meets Bill and weirdmageddon happens oopsie daisy. Anton’s regretting it and escapes Bill and is trying to survive the apocalypse while also trying to figure out a way to take Bill down. thennn he finds Dew :3 out in the wild. Dew is scared because he hasn’t seen Anton in years and he’s scared he’s gonna be taken back but um also the apocalypse is happening and Anton seems pretty fucked up and maybe this is his best chance at survival. maybe Anton came to Dew for help because he is literally the only other person he knows in the world because Anton is a little freak who doesn’t leave his forest and socialize with other human beings. maybe Dew realizes that Anton had literally nobody else to turn to. besides Pierce i guess but let’s say that when Anton first met Bill, they both killed Pierce together because he hates him.

the point is that this scenario is so wholesome and silly like yeah Dew hasn’t seen his tormentor in years and now he’s back and all sad and asking for help saving the world from the apocalypse that he caused!! Dew really doesn’t want anything to do with him but! he also doesn’t wanna die! and Anton is the only person who knows what he’s doing here

cue Bill using Dew against Anton like how he used Dipper and Mable and Stan against Ford. Anton cares about Dew and will do anything Bill wants just so he won’t hurt him. crazy shit guys my brain wow my brain

i probably have more stuff to say but this is everything so far. if this au is cringe and dumb do not tell me that alright my autism level is catastrophic and i’m thinking so much about this. i’m also gonna get a bill cipher tattoo once i get the money because i’ve wanted one since i was 12, that’s how much this weird triangle freak means to me. and yall already know how much Anton means to me so yeah… this au makes me a very happy camper

oh SHIT!!! WHAT ABOUT MAX??? well uhhhmmmm ummmm i’ll think of something! i’ll definitely think of something and post about it when i do! (or yall can throw more ideas at me and i will eat them up pls pls feed me i mean talk to me about this au i need enrichment in my enclosure)

[o-kaythislooksbad]

ailesswhumptober day 29: ownership / branding / "everybody will know that you're mine"

chapter 1 / 3 of we should get our act together | rated t, no archive warnings apply

personal space has an entirely new meaning for eddie after the life foundation goes up in smoke. the symbiote he had bonded with for a few days already pushed the envelope on the definition, and as they watched their polar opposites turn to ash, venom had insisted on clinging to as much of eddie as possible. 

to make sure that you stay here, they had spoken in his head. to make sure that we stay here.

"don't know where else i'd be," eddie muttered, figuring that would cause them to ease up.

a week later and the symbiote has only become more possessive. personal space is difficult to maintain when your person houses another living being in it, eddie muses as he walks down the street to the coffee cart outside of mrs. chen's. 

venom slithers through eddie's memories as he focuses on appearing normal. just a guy getting a coffee, exchanging cash for a paper cup full of caffeine, and if anything isn't normal… well, it is six in the morning and the vendor has certainly seen worse. he fumbles through the exchange and receives a sympathetic smile along with his coffee, cradling it between his hands as he walks to the park. 

venom delves deeper, towards the boxes that eddie keeps locked away for good reason, and he brings a hand to his head. don't do that, he thinks. boundaries, remember?

are you going to drink that or stare at it forever? venom asks, easily shifting gears. is there chocolate in it? they spike eddie's heart rate a bit, perking up like a puppy. 

"just coffee," eddie mumbles, sitting down on a bench. he takes a sip, enjoying the way it burns his tongue ever so slightly. "can't afford a sugar crash today."

"eddie?" 

it is anne! venom loudly, happily exclaims. 

"hey, annie." eddie waves. "didn't expect to see you on this side of town." 

"i have a new client meeting," she explains. "how have you been?" anne's steely eyes bore into his, but eddie has never backed down from a game of chicken before. "i'm sorry that you lost venom," she says. 

not lost, eddie. right here.

eddie takes another sip of his coffee. "yeah," he says. "it's fine, though. i'm fine. some things just aren't meant to be."

"wow, eddie. way to kick a girl when she's down."

"what? no, no anne, i didn't -"

she laughs, and man, eddie misses that sound. 

"i'm just messing with you. i'm running late but maybe we'll catch up later this week!"

that was not cool, the symbiote's voice echoes in eddie's head as they walk back to his apartment. you cannot keep pretending that i do not exist. they pull eddie's body into an alley, slamming it into the bricks. do i have your attention now?

eddie's head spins. "the fuck?"

that is close enough to yes.

we really need to work on your understanding of consent.

listen to me, eddie, venom rumbles, spreading out from his chest and enveloping his upper body, plastering him to the wall. do you feel this?

"kinda hard not to," he chokes out.

then why venom presses into his abdomen, are you they crawl down his legs and anchor him to the pavement ignoring me?

"i'm not. i just… you're meant to be dead. not that i want you dead, but it's easier for everyone if we say that you are. you don't want to be back in a lab again." 

i don't want you back there, either.

the symbiote hums, considering eddie's words. that excuse is acceptable. for now. they rummage through more of eddie's mental baggage, and he's helpless to stop them. i will make you a deal. i will remain hidden, but everybody will know that you are mine.

subtlety is far from venom's strength - they constantly attempt a dialogue with eddie, leaving him to zone out during conversations with people or reply out loud when he shouldn't, they move his body in ways that are unnatural, and they're currently holding him hostage in an alley. 

it's ominous and concerning, yet oddly relieving and reassuring, knowing that venom's seen those boxes, the ones with contents deprecating his worth and saying he'll never find a partner or a purpose. 

with venom, he now has both. 

venom wraps a tendril around eddie's left wrist, sinking into his skin until a new tattoo is formed.

i am venom, and you are mine, they promise.

[nimata-beroya]

🥤🐇🍄🌿 for the truth or dare writing ask game!

Thank you @kanerallels!!

🥤 ⇢ recommend an author or fanfic you love

Oof! This is tough and I'm sure I'm going to leave many talented people out bc I can never remember their Tumblr url even though I'm their avid reader on ao3 (I'm sorry!)

@seleneisrising @photogirl894 @airlockfailure @yukipri @takadasaiko @genericficerblog @mxtr3ssquickly @insertmeaningfulusername @fanfictasia @nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius @annwayne and of course, you!

🐇 ⇢ do you prefer writing original characters, reader inserts, or a mix of both? 

Original characters, for sure. I'm not fond of reader inserts, nothing against who write/read them, but it's not for me because they feel a bit gaslighting. The few occasions I dare to read them I always say "I wouldn't f*ing say/do that!", and I feel I have no right to force the reader to feel/say/do things they normally wouldn't. I know it's fiction, but I cannot connect with reader inserts, neither in reading nor writing.

But unlike insert readers, the possibilities with original characters is infinite and there's no one that can say that the OC wouldn't react this or that way except me! (When I'm writing them ofc) And I accept whatever the OC's reaction is when I'm reading it bc it is what it is. I have no base to refute it.

🍄 ⇢ share a head canon for one of your favourite ships or pairings

Kalluzeb when they get hurt: two sides of the same coin

Zeb goes berserk when Kallus is in danger. Any imperial in a mile radius of them will have a gruesome demise. It's a little scary to witness. But later, he calms down once they're safe and patches Kallus up with utmost care. Kallus gets often hurt, so Zeb is an expert by now.

On the other hand, if it Zeb who gets hurt during a mission, Kallus keeps his head cold and do what he needs to do to get Zeb out of there. He's methodical and pragmatic about it. But once they're safe, Kallus crumbles. He can't deal with Zeb hurt. It messes with his head.

🌿 ⇢ give some advice on writer's block and low creativity

I struggle with this myself, but sometimes I do things that help me

Take a break from writing (sometimes even a short break is enough, sometimes you need days or weeks. It's okay)

But during the before mentioned break (especially the long ones) you can do other things, get out of your comfort zone. Read something (your favorite book or something new), watch tv shows/movies in a different genre/fandom you're writing for. Do another type of art, listen to music, etc.

Brainstorm with someone else (or several others). This is VERY IMPORTANT. Sometimes what we need to get unstuck is voicing the problem. I'd say that 7 out of 10 times, you'll find the solution by yourself while explaining the other person. If not, then your friend(s) will give you one, or at least, spark your imagination by telling you the detail you were missing.

Remember that even just a sentence written is progress.

And, even if it's often discouraged by many writing advice lists, edit that last portion of what you wrote and don't be afraid to discard what doesn't work (but don't delete it. You can save that for another story or later on in the same fic you're working on.). Doing this, you can make the story flow easily again.

Send me one (or more) of these Writers Truth & Dare Asks!!