#like those protesters on the nexus

[persephoneggsy]

i need to rant about a quest in mass effect andromeda 

so in the quest “the little things that matter”, you agree to help Addison track down an Initiative doctor who went missing. you find the doctor, Zoe Kennedy, and she’s eight months pregnant. and apparently the reason she left was because Addision wouldn’t let the Initiative people start having babies

you know. the same Initiative that could barely support the people it was already responsible for. they had no stability, no steady food supply, they were in danger from the kett and the scourge, and then there was a rebellion so they lost even more people and assets in the fallout of that.

i think it’s pretty goddamn reasonable to say, “hey, maybe we shouldn’t bring more people into this galaxy until we can be sure they’ll be safe and provided for”. and i hate agreeing with Addison, but there we go.

but dr. “smartest person Addison knows” kennedy decides that isn’t fair, runs away, gets pregnant, and starts stealing supplies from the outposts that YOU establish to stay on the run. 

and then you have to save her ass from kett and roekaar and there’s no option to tell her off for being a shortsighted, selfish fucking idiot. she just had a widdle baby so she gets off scot free. 

fuck her.

[draculasfavoritewife]

Misconceptions

Summary: Traveling with the Mandalorian was always going to create false impressions -- if only they knew what he was like behind closed doors.

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!Reader

Warnings: Reader being a bit of a tease, implied smut, heavy sensuality and SOFTNESS! Din is a bit of a soft dom (according to me).

So I came up with this idea on a road trip last year, when I read a theory about the concept of Mandalorian celibacy, and the dialogue generator in my brain went off the rails 😁. My personal headcanon is that while Mando is not a full-on dom like I've seen some write him, he does like to be somewhat in control so yeah.

*Translations of less common words/phrases in Mando'a at the end

You knew something was wrong the second he entered -- or rather,  stormed into -- the small room in the inn your little crew was occupying for the night. Normally even when fully armored he can move with surprising stealth, stalking his prey like a wild nexu on the prowl.

You've always wondered how he manages to not clank like a droid wherever he walks.

Now, though, none of that control softens the thud of his heavy footsteps as he passes you without even so much as a greeting and aimlessly unpacks his gear, taking no care to muffle the clatter of his personal arsenal before he chooses his pulse rifle to dismantle and start cleaning.

You approach him cautiously, noting the deadly sharp motions of his gloved hands and the stiff angles of his shoulders. He's quiet, much too quiet, only the crackle of his tight breaths sounding through his vocoder.

"Want some help?" you ask, keeping your own tone warm and flashing a brief smile at his gleaming helmet.

Silence.

Undeterred, you delicately pull his EE-3 carbine from the mess and seat yourself cross-legged near his feet, expertly taking it apart and starting to lovingly free it from the layers of buildup caused by frequent use.

A side glance reveals that his shoulders have loosened slightly, rolling forward as a longer breath drags from his lungs. He's not angry at you, as your unsolicited presence actually seems to have calmed him a tiny bit.

The pair of you work in the quiet for some time, only disturbed by the child whenever he toddles up to one or the other of you to eagerly show you some new insect he's found in the dust of your temporary lodging quarters.

"So," you finally say casually, not taking your eyes from the detailing of his rifle as you finish your task. "Want to talk about what's got you in such a snit?"

He snorts. "No."

"Din," you finally look up at him then, and see his head tilt towards you as it always does when his true name leaves your lips, "you know you don't have to shoulder everything yourself anymore. We're partners. I'm more than capable of carrying my share. What's happened?"

"It's nothing like that," he grumbles, his visor flicking away. "Someone just made me angry, is all."

You wait, opening your arms and lap to Grogu as he squeals and reaches for you. Din's already said more than he probably meant to, which means there's more coming.

You just have to wait for it.

He doesn't keep you waiting long, to both his surprise and yours. You've been wearing him down with your patience lately, it seems.

"Some piece of bantha fodder in the cantina made a comment about you after you took Grogu back up here," he mutters. "He had the GALL to ask me what I pay you."

You hear leather protesting as his dangerous hands clench into fists.

By what he leaves unsaid, you know the implications of the remark meant something much different than simply a relationship of business employment.

You blink up at him, oddly more touched by his rage towards the scum who would suggest such a thing than bothered by the story itself.

"If we weren't already trying to keep a low profile here, Cyar'ika, I would have stuffed those words back down his vile throat until he choked on them."

You rise to your feet, Grogu still cradled to your chest, trying to deny that you find his threat on your behalf so arousing. "Well, I can't decide whether to be insulted or flattered. I never thought I could pass for a courtesan."

"You're not helping" he tells you dryly. "And you know that's a load of bantha."

With a grin, you take the child to his little bed in the next room, and place your palms against the Mandalorian's cool beskar breastplate when you return. "I'm sorry for joking about it, ner'cyare. And I'm sorry you have to hear people speculating about our relationship. I wish they could keep those thoughts to themselves."

Letting your fingers drift upward to tug on his cowl, you add, "But it's not even as bad as what someone said to me while I was getting food for Grogu."

He goes rigid. "Tell me."

"Some old guy gave me a pitying look when he saw I was with you. Came over and basically said something along the lines of, 'Best to give up sooner rather than later, Sweetheart. You know those Mandalorians...they're CELIBATE.'"

Din's left speechless for a moment, and you can almost imagine his eyes blinking in shock.

"I...what...why...?"

You shrug carelessly and step away from his body, crouching down to reorganize his weapons where they lie forgotten on the floor. "It's just a rumor, Din. Since our people pick up foundlings all over the place and have so many rules of conduct. The galaxy's just jumped to the conclusion that our people don't actually engage in...intimacy, of any kind. I used to hear the same thing said about me, before I stopped wearing the armor."

He's quiet again, thoughtful as he draws the curtains across the window, shrouding the room in shadow. You allow a wicked grin to curve your lips for a moment, confident you've rerouted his focus from his earlier outrage.

A muted clank tells you he's removing his beskar now that it's dark.

"I hope I didn't offend you by relaying that story," you sing-song into the shadows behind you.

Nothing.

As soon as your guard is down, a pair of long arms has you in a durasteel grasp and you're lifted from the floor and tossed onto the bed before you can even make a sound.

"What's brought this on?" you half-laugh into his bare chest as he all but smothers you.

Hot lips tease your throat and rough hands crawl up your spine beneath your shirt, making you arch into him for more and wrap your legs around his hips.

"I'll show you who's celibate," he growls close to your mouth, punctuating his words with a kiss that hints at teeth. "Someone's asking to be reminded."

"Teach me a lesson, then, ner'alor," you hum into his hair, reverently inhaling the smell of leather, sweat, and smoke that always saturates his skin. Most times he protests your use of such an authoritative term for him, but when he's riled up, you know that some deep dark part of him likes it.

He needs no further urging, and soon both of your respective annoyances are long forgotten in the throes of bliss.

Much later, when the flames have cooled, you lie tangled together in the sheets, his head resting on your chest and your fingers lovingly working the knots out of his thick hair. As much as you yearn to someday look upon the face of the man you love so deeply, you can't deny that the darkness gives a gift of true closeness you might never have known in the seeing world. The flicker of his eyelashes against your skin and the way his now-tranquil breaths warm your body are enough in this moment, and no amount of credits could ever persuade you to give this up.

"Your helmet has really made a reptavian's nest of your hair this time, my love," you observe as your fingers catch in his curling locks for the umpteenth time.

"Mmm, most of that mess is your doing this time, Cyar'ika." Din's voice is husky, as it always gets when he's on the verge of sleep, but he sounds more at ease than he has in days, and you allow yourself to hope that he'll sleep through the night tonight, that his body will actually let him fully rest for once.

"At least I can undo that with time. I'm afraid once daylight comes, my new skin pattern won't be so easily hidden." You have a few suspicions already of where the bruising evidence of his zealous kiss blossoms across your flesh, and as you prefer to dress much lighter than your armored companion, such adornments do not go unseen.

"You love wearing my mark." There's the barest hint of smugness underlying his tone. "Don't try to pretend otherwise."

"...Alright, I won't." You reach down to toy with his mythosaur necklace, letting the tips of your fingers flit down his torso and feeling him pull you closer in response, his own hands settling into their place at the top of your hips. "Whatever other people might say, Din Djarin, I love you. Never doubt that."

"Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, Mesh'la."

You're about to drift off, there in his embrace, when a lonely chirp from the other room jolts you fully awake and you sigh.

"I'll go get him, Din."

"Hurry back," he murmurs, reluctantly releasing you from his warm hold.

You scrabble around in the blankets for a moment, unable to locate your clothes, until Din tosses his shirt at you. "Here, take mine."

You pull it over your head, feeling immediately oddly at home swimming in the folds of the massive piece of clothing. It's unexpectedly soft, well worn from years of use -- and abuse -- and it smells just like him. You smile to yourself as you crawl out of bed, the shirt's hem drifting to the tops of your thighs.

"Cover your eyes, I'm opening the door," you tell him.

"I'm not going to go blind from a sliver of light," he grumbles.

"Just thought I'd warn you." You push the door to your shared room open, about to go rescue Grogu from his solitude.

"Wait. Stay there."

You hear him dressing in the other half of his clothes, and the bed creaks as he rises. You instinctively let your eyes flutter shut as his quiet footsteps approach from behind.

"Just for a minute...I want to really look at you with my own eyes."

Your heartbeat quickens at that, and you realize then that he's never really seen you, either.

Through the visor of his helmet, sure, but he's never actually set eyes on you this vulnerable, this...undressed.

You're almost as much of a mystery to him as he is to you, intimately as you know each other.

It amazes you, the trust you've established between the two of you as he stands before you and his breath rustles your unkempt hair. He doesn't reach to cover your eyes himself, worried that you'll look at him without consent. He trusts that your love and respect for him is enough to keep your eyes softly closed.

He studies you, hands tracing down your arms and along the shape of your body covered in his dark shirt. His touch is light, almost shy as he takes the sight of you in. Never in his wildest dreams did he imagine that one day he would be standing here with someone like you, someone wearing his clothes, who loves him enough to share everything with him and not demand that he break his sacred creed before he's ready.

Someone who he wants, more than anything, to be his forever, to one day, if his life ever allows it, become his riduur.

The person that he almost -- almost -- for a second entertains the thought of telling to open her eyes, to really LOOK at him as he is, unmasked in the soft light of the hallway.

But he doesn't, not this time.

Someday.

You feel his hands frame your face, melt into the familiar calluses of his fingertips as his thumbs lightly caress along your cheekbones. You smile wistfully as he tenderly kisses your closed eyelids, then rests his forehead against yours in a keldabe kiss.

"Mesh'la," he hums quietly, and you can hear the hushed awe in his voice, the way he gets when he's overwhelmed by feelings he can't put into words. "Dank farrik, you're so lovely."

You shiver slightly at his words, feeling heat race to your skin. You don't know exactly why, but you've always loved the sound of his voice when he lets that particular expletive slip.

"Careful, Djarin," you murmur as your lips seek out his. "You don't want me asking for another round before you're ready."

"Why do you assume I'm not ready?" he teases, teeth catching playfully at your bottom lip as you pull back.

"Developing more of an appetite, I see." You rise on your tiptoes to brush your nose against his, grinning as always at the way his scruffy facial hair tickles your face.

"I had to, to keep up with you." His hands tighten on your waist, drawing you against his well-muscled body suggestively.

You reluctantly push away from him, though not before planting a kiss in the hollow where his throat meets his collarbone, a place you know drives him wild. "I do have to go. Your ad'ika wants his buir."

"That was a dirty trick, Mesh'la." He sounds put out, and a little pent up now.

You twist your finger in his necklace, before turning away so you can open your eyes and finally go rescue your foundling. "I'll make it up to you later, Cyare. I promise."

"Don't make me pay you," he deadpans, reminding you of the comment that first started off this very pleasurable evening.

You smirk, knowing he can hear it in your voice as you saunter away. "Oh, I'm very certain I'll get exactly what I want from you."

When you finally return, the child clutching the folds of your borrowed shirt, he's in bed again, so once the door is shut the darkness swallows you in its comforting shroud once more.

You listen to Grogu's happy squeaks as he clambers across from your chest to Din's, and the answering murmurs of his father. Content in the company of the two beings you love most in the galaxy, you stretch out to lie against your lover's warm body, relishing the temporary luxury of a soft mattress to sink into and room to spare. You're not going to wake up with kinks in your spine for the first time in forever.

"You should get a bigger bed on the ship," you suggest through a yawn. "This is awfully nice."

"What's wrong with mine?" He sounds offended, the fingers of his free hand searching until they find their way beneath the draping excess of his shirt that's still cocooning your form. It surprised you at first, probably surprised him too, just how much the man craves these rare spells of skin-to-skin contact, made all the more meaningful by his personal restrictions. You settle into his languid stroking before mustering a reply.

"It's just nice not to worry about falling off the bed when all three of us are together."

"I suppose," he concedes, pausing a moment to no doubt smile at the tiny snores of the now-sleeping child. "But there is something to be said for how close necessity draws us. Don't you roll away from me in the middle of the night."

"Or what, you big gundark, you won't pay me?"

He squeezes the soft part of your waist at your teasing. "Maybe I won't."

"That's a breach of contract." You tangle your legs with his and wrap your arms around his midsection, assuring him without words that you're not going anywhere. "Admit it, you'd like it too. Imagine a world where you don't wake up every morning with stiff muscles." You lazily start to knead into his back, soothing out the weariness and tension that like to take up permanent residence there.

He sighs appreciatively, breath hitching slightly whenever your ministrations encounter an especially stubborn knot. "I do not wake up EVERY morning with stiff muscles."

"Could've fooled me, with the amount of old-man groaning I hear whenever you get out of bed."

"I don't do that."

"Why do you think I always wake up when you leave, hmm?"

"Because you're incapable of keeping yourself warm and you need me to keep from freezing to death." His reply is certain, leaving no room for further rebuttal.

"Kriff. You do know me too well. You still sound like an old man in the mornings, though."

"Don't argue with me, Cyar'ika." Din's voice is warm, but his hand starts straying from platonic towards more intimate. "You're at a bit of a disadvantage."

"How so?" You shouldn't ask, but an impish desire to hear him actually voice his dangerous thoughts overpowers your common sense.

The smirk in his voice is audible. "You have a much more difficult time keeping quiet than I do. You wouldn't want to wake the kid now, would you?"

"Dank farrik."

He relents when you wordlessly concede, returning to a comforting caress rather than an instigating one.

You've almost dozed off again in your shared darkness when the mattress bucks as he hauls himself out of bed to take Grogu back to his own room. You gaze through half-closed eyes at his silhouette when he pauses, back-lit in the warm glow of the opened doorway. You take him in without detail for a brief moment, the curves of his well-defined shoulders and arms, the textured mess of his hair, the slope of his prominent nose. Your heart blossoms with the affection and passion this wounded, pure warrior ignites within you, and you are hit once more with the desire to truly see him, bare and in the light, all his barriers laid down for you.

He's the only man you would ever consider taking as riduur.

Someday.

Before you know it, your brave hunter has returned to your embrace, leaning over you and trapping you between his arms as he rests his scruffy cheek against your smooth one, the two of you allowing a long moment to simply breathe each other in, thankful once more to whichever gods you may believe in that for one more day, you are alive, and you belong to each other.

Then he rises to his knees and pulls you up with him, his breath warm on your skin.

"Don't ever leave me, Mesh'la," he whispers roughly into your throat.

Your head snaps back in delight at the sensations his mouth stirs within you, and your nails scrape across his scarred back in answer, drawing wordless sounds from deep in his chest.

"Never, ner'cyare. I would hunt you across the stars if ever we were parted."

He sighs, the movement of his body rocking yours. "Thank you."

"Can I keep this shirt?" you ask saucily.

"Yes." His hands curl around its hem and start lifting. "But take it off for now."

You hum questioningly as you allow him to guide the thick fabric over your head.

"After all," and his voice hardens, taking on the dogged quality that makes him the best there is at what he does.

"I haven't forgotten about that next round you promised, my love."

Ner'cyare = My beloved

Ner'alor = My leader/boss

Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, Mesh'la = I love you, Beautiful

Riduur = Spouse

Ad'ika = Little One/Small child

Buir = Parent

[aindyghosh]

Fix Me Up (IronDad fic)

Peter hated formalities.

No, that was too mild a word to describe his feelings on the topic. Peter despised formalities.

Detested them. Abhorred. Loathed. And any other synonym that Oxford had come up with to date that he’d be able to remember as soon as Peter’s mind returned to the right track.

As it was, Peter’s brain felt all jumbled and disoriented, as if he were in a daze, because the morning sniffles he’d dismissed as a reaction to the accumulated dust in his room were, in reality, a case of severe cold due to the weather fluctuations that New Yorkers were experiencing and thus, very much not insignificant.

The last time Peter had fallen ill was three years ago before a visit to OsCorp had juiced him up on a — what would probably be perceived as ‘freakish’ — spider-serum (well, it was more of a spider-bite than a full-fledged serum, but that was what he called it, anyway) that turned his vision into a ten out of ten, dialled his senses to an eleven, and for the initial few months, made him stick to pretty much every surface available. No, that wasn’t a double entendre of any kind. It had been a real issue, thank you very much, until he had hauled control of it into his own hands.

Now one might ask, how did his sickness tie into his hatred for formalities?

Well, it was like this: Peter was sick, all he wanted to do at the moment was go home, politely refuse Aunt May’s chicken broth that was more likely to send him to the ER than to make him feel any better, allow sleep to treat him like he was dead until he was ready to return to the land of the living, and the fever, with any luck, would subside by the time he woke up again.

He didn’t think these were, in any manner, unreasonable demands.

Yet, his school acted as though he’d broken into Nexus and stolen the nuclear codes that he could access on Mr Stark’s servers.

Not that he’d ever say that to anyone because it would be incriminating Mr Stark, even though he was around eighty-three per cent sure it was one of those open secrets that everybody knew but pretended they didn’t. Adults were so complicated.

Regardless, coming back to the point, Aunt May was unreachable over the phone, which Peter had already suspected would be the case because she had a very important meeting with some angel investors who had expressed interest in the latest venture that her NGO was trying to set up for victims of domestic abuse.

Peter had said that to both Mr Harrington and Principal Morita, and had practically begged to be permitted to leave because anybody with a functional pair of eyes could see that he wasn’t faking an illness for the fun of it (Principal Morita had blanched at the hundred-and-three-degree temperature the thermometer had displayed; apparently, the spider-serum had increased his body’s tolerance to the extent where he didn’t keel over while burning up, but still, it would’ve been nice to not fall sick at all).

They had denied his request, of course. Formalities. See why he despised them?

With Peter being miserable in the infirmary and Aunt May not answering her calls, the natural next step in the administrative process was to either call the second emergency contact tagged to his name or the hospital.

Peter had put his foot down when Mr Harrison had tried to make noise in favour of the latter choice. Whether it was his uncharacteristic blunt protest or the pitiful murmur he had exhaled for being too exhausted to attempt anything else, Principal Morita had, though begrudgingly, relented.

That had stripped them down to one option. The second emergency contact. And that was where the root of all his problems laid.

Even when he had been one of the sickliest children, Peter’s file had been empty of a secondary contact since Uncle Ben’s demise because, besides Aunt May, he hadn’t had any such person in his life. But two years ago, his Aunt May had applied to add one.

Tony S.

It had been Mr Stark’s idea after their initial application had been rejected because “there is no way Tony Stark is your emergency contact, Peter; such kind of pranks will not be tolerated!”

As insistent as Ms. Banks was on not being taken for a fool, she hadn’t batted an eyelid when Peter had submitted the revised application with the name tweaked from “Tony Stark” to “Tony S”. At the time, like in one of those really old movies, Mr Stark’s “People are gullible, Peter! They think they know and understand everything when they barely see a quarter of the full picture,” had echoed through his head like a voiceover.

But he was digressing. The point he was trying to make was that despite the fact his school hadn’t, and still didn’t, believe that he had an internship — which wasn’t even a lie — with Stark Industries, much less that Mr Stark would ever agree to be his secondary contact (if Peter was being honest, he too found it ridiculous and surreal sometimes that Mr Stark had been listed as one of his emergency contacts), he hadn’t imagined that Principal Morita and Mr Harrington would stammer say an outright “no” to the man’s very face.

Peter watched, perched on the uncomfortable bed that threatened to make a germaphobe out of him, as Mr Stark’s face underwent a long series of varied emotions until it began oscillating between intrigued amusement and concerned frustration.

“I am his secondary emergency contact,” Mr Stark stressed for the third time. “You saw the papers! They have May’s signature! Why, on God’s holy green earth—” ( Ooh, the fancy curses were coming out now. When Mr Stark started saying things like “God” and “holy”, the best course of action was to run.) “—would I want to compromise your records? Do I look like a kidnapper?” Principal Morita failed to reply within a satisfactory period because Mr Stark pinched the bridge of his nose for the fifth time in the past ten minutes. Someone was developing a new anxious tic. “Why would I want to kidnap a student, Principal Morita?”

“We don’t think you’re trying to kidnap him, per se,” Mr Harrison swiftly cut in, seeing as Principal Morita seemed more interested in mimicking a fish and flailing his hands like an octopus. “But surely, you must see why we’d be, um, sceptical about allowing Peter to go with you?”

“No, actually, I don’t.”

Mr Harrington waved his hands in vague gestures, not unlike Principal Morita but he resembled more of an orangutan. “You are Tony Stark.”

“I’m aware, but thanks for the reminder.” Mr Stark deadpanned, his flat features compensating for the raw vulnerability in his eyes as he kept shooting Peter worried glances. “Look, this argument is entirely pointless.” You tell ‘em, Mr Stark! “I have a sick child to take care of—” He wasn’t a child! He was an almost-adult! That was a thing! “—and he can do with some treatment that is not in this horrible room. Is this what you call an infirmary? You know what, it doesn’t matter! I will need Peter to come with me pronto.”

Principal Morita stood up taller as if something in Mr Stark’s speech had vindicated him. “That is what a kidnapper would say.”

“No, a mugger would say that while robbing somebody. Go on, accuse me of petty theft as well while you’re at it.”

Principal Morita stuttered something out, but whether that was in response to Mr Stark’s utterly unimpressed face or Mr Harrison elbowing him in the rib, Peter wasn’t sure.

The ongoing conversation gradually morphed into unintelligible white noise, overwhelming while being muffled at the same time, like being pulled out of the water after a long time under, the sound of waves rushing ringing in one’s ears and deafening them to their surroundings but unable to mitigate the imposing presence of the people around.

“M’st’r St’k?” After a short second, his brain-addled self wondered if he’d managed to get the words out in the world or if they had died a premature death on his tongue.

“Peter?”

Maybe he had. “I d’n’t f’el sss...g’d, M-St’k—”

💖

Peter blinked. And frowned when his view refused to stop swaying between pitch black and black with spots of red and green in it.

It was another moment before he realised his eyes were still closed.

Oops.

When his eyes fluttered open, it wasn’t to Midtown High’s infirmary that left much to be desired, but to a clean white ceiling with a familiar huge and fancy circle of light decorating the middle which his brain placed right away.

The Avengers Compound’s MedBay.

He had a love-hate relationship with this corner of the compound, in that his body loved to end up here, at least, once a week while he had to actively hold himself back from cursing like a pirate anytime someone so much as mentioned the wing.

“FRIDAY?” He asked in a tone that even his brain thought suited an eighty-year-old, weary of the world, than a teenage kid with superpowers. No, not superpowers. That made him sound narcissistic and ostentatious. Spidey-powers. There, much better. “How long was I out this time?”

“You missed both lunch and dinner, if that answers your question,” came the reply from the person who was very much not FRIDAY.

“Mr Stark!” He attempted to sit up to no avail, Mr Stark’s firm grip on his shoulders gently pushing him back on the bed. Peter might have been stronger but Mr Stark was much more stubborn and a lot less prone to listening.

“How’re you feeling, kid?”

“Fine, actually, y’know, given everything.” He was no longer burning up, his skin didn’t crawl, the pounding in his head had subsided, and nothing felt jammed up his nose. All in all, he felt much more in control of himself. At least, the spider-serum worked fast.

“Good, because I need to yell at you and I’d prefer to do that while you’re not being miserable in your own body.”

“Oh, come on, Mr Stark! I didn’t even do anything this time!”

“Yeah?” The man’s eyes narrowed at him in that manner where, historically, it meant he had yet to decide whether to be angry with him or let himself show his amusement at his antics. Usually, the latter won out after a few minutes of forced yelling which was more to help keep up his façade of a responsible adult than anything else. Here’s to hoping! “Then was it your clone who assured your Aunt May in the morning that you were okay and, in fact, healthy enough to attend school?”

Had Peter been sitting, he would have bowed his head or looked away. Since he was currently laid out helpless on the bed as Mr Stark hovered over him like a concerned parent mentor, bowing his head wasn't on the table and looking away could be considered impolite. Mr Stark didn’t take kindly to rudeness and Peter was in no mood to be tickled.

“Sorry, Mr Stark.” Apologising? Now that came much more naturally to him. Mr Stark said it was a problem. Peter wasn’t so sure.

“What are you sorry for?”

That sounded like a trick question. Peter eyed the other man with carefully concealed suspicion. “For falling sick?”

Mr Stark sighed in that exasperated way that was typically followed up with something either deeply profound or extremely heartfelt, and in both cases, Peter would be left speechless and a tiny smidge teary-eyed.

“Don’t be sorry for falling sick, Peter! How would you feel if I apologised for getting hurt on a mission?”

Peter shrugged. “Good, actually, because then it would mean you’ll try not to throw yourself in the active line of gunfire when the next fight comes along.” After a moment, he added, “And maybe a tiny bit worried if you said the word ‘sorry’.”

“Pot, kettle, Underoos.” Mr Stark rolled his eyes. “And stop distracting me from the real issue here.”

“There’s no real issue, Mr Stark—”

“You should have told May that you had a fever, Pete.” He didn’t have a fever in the morning! “She was so scared when she saw the missed calls. She almost hitched a ride with Karen.”

“She hates Karen.” Peter’s mumble was barely audible, but somehow Mr Stark heard it.

“I know. I talked her down from blowing her dinner invitation with the investors. She’ll be here in another—” He spared a glance at his expensive wristwatch. “—fifteen minutes or so.”

“Thanks, Mr Stark! I didn’t mean to cause any problems—”

“You didn’t,” Mr Stark said, his voice soft. “We just worry, Pete. You’d know when you reach our age and have to look after a hyperenergetic kid who can’t seem to keep out of trouble.”

“That’s right, Peter!” FRIDAY chimed in. “Boss nearly went into a panic attack at the thought of you being hurt.”

Mr Stark immediately hushed his AI, but FRIDAY made even her silence seem...smug.

“I didn’t.” Mr Stark was convincing nobody. He was such a mother-hen.

Peter shook his head with a small smile. “This won’t happen again, Mr Stark, I promise.”

“Yes. Please remember, we’re all here for you, okay?” The man squeezed his hand. His touch was warm and assuring, and it grounded Peter.

“I didn’t expect a few sneezes to turn into a fever. I’d thought the serum had taken care of that.”

“Me too. I have talked with Bruce. If you are fine with him taking a couple of samples, he’s agreed to look into it.”

“Sure.” A year ago, he’d have been uncomfortable at the prospect of Doctor Bruce Banner wasting his precious time on something as insignificant as Peter’s blood tests. But Mr Stark had beaten the so-called “self-deprecation” out with his snarky retorts and sassy eye-rolls, and Doctor Banner had, after returning from “the garbage planet” (not his words), become something of a second mentor to him.

Also, this was for science. Doctor Banner was always interested in analysing the dos and don’ts and powers and the side effects of the spider-serum.

“Boss, Forehead of Security is pulling up into the driveway with Mrs Parker as we speak.”

“Oh, goody! She can take over the yelling now. FRI, order some pizza!”

“On it!”

“Mr Stark!” Peter called for the man with a tone of voice that, to unsuspecting people, might have sounded whiny, but really, it wasn’t. “Save me!”

“Nope! You deserve it!”

“I promise I won’t do it again!”

“FRI, remind the young lad of the last time he’d said the same thing, please.”

“Three weeks ago, on the twenty-ninth of March, at 8:14 in the evening, Peter Parker had promised not to hide anything from Tony Stark and May Parker ever again post a two-hour surgery for failing to alert anybody after getting shot while stopping a bank robbery.”

Peter resisted the urge to pout. “FRIDAY! You didn’t have to recount in such detail.”

“I am not programmed to recite half-information, Peter.” She was trolling him. He could feel it in his bones.

“Hah!” Mr Stark crowed. “I am so proud of you, baby girl.”

“Boss, I have done some research and I have arrived at a conclusion.”

Peter’s heart hammered at the declaration. What now?

“Oh? Let’s hear it, then!”

“I have looked into various published papers on human behaviour and the possible environmental factors that may have an impact on it, and I have deduced that Peter Parker’s tendency to hide his injuries and downplay his struggles are identical to your documented traits.”

It took a visible minute for Mr Stark to realise what transpired, and when he did, he let out an outraged screech that would have put a whole colony of bats to shame. 

Peter sucked in his cheeks.

“Are you implying I’m a bad influence on the kid, FRIDAY?”

“No, I’m saying that you and Peter are in the same boat, and both of you panic when the other gets hurt yet none of you do anything to set an example for the other, and since you, Boss, can be argued to be the adult in this relationship—” She bravely ignored Mr Stark’s squeak of protest, and pressed on, “the responsibility of not being a hypocrite, unfortunately, falls on you.” FRIDAY finished with a flourish. Peter could hear the flourish.

A beat of silence.

“That’s it! I’m donating you to City College. How dare you insinuate that I’m a responsible adult. I hate being responsible!”

And that was the point where Peter absolutely and hilariously lost it.

He was soon joined by Mr Stark, who was more giggling than guffawing like Peter. When the titters and the chortles were on the verge of subsiding, FRIDAY played an audio recording of a woman cackling as a representation of her own emotions, and the riot powered up again.

That was, of course, until the door to his room — yes, he had been in the MedBay a sufficient number of times for Mr Stark to designate a room specially for him — was pushed open and a harried May rushed in only to be greeted by the sight of Peter and Tony all but rolling over the floor laughing.

Peter’s ears rang with her screaming for days after that.

[littlesweetchurro]

Malfunctioned

Chapter 3

Bakugou slouched in his seat at the izakaya, scowling at his drink as if it had personally offended him. The noise of the crowded restaurant grated on his nerves, but it was marginally better than being alone with his anger.

He needed a drink and after the fucking week he had.

"I swear, there's not a single fucking useful person in this entire city," he growled, slamming his glass down on the table. The sudden movement caused Kirishima, who was sitting next to him to pick up his drink before it spilled.

"Whoa, man," Kirishima said, raising his hands. "What's got you so worked up this time?"

Bakugou's scowl deepened. "My fucking gauntlets. They're not working right, and I can't find anyone competent enough to fix them properly."

Mina leaned forward, her pink skin practically glowing in the dim light of the izakaya. "Have you tried the support company that made them originally?"

"Of course I fucking have," Bakugou snapped. "Those idiots couldn't find their ass with both hands and a map. They're the ones who fucked it up in the first place."

Sero chuckled and smiled. "Maybe you should design your own support gear, Bakugou. You're smart enough."

"I'm a hero, not a fucking tech nerd. That's what support companies are for, but apparently, they're all staffed by incompetent morons."

Denki, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, suddenly perked up. "Oh! What about that tech who worked on my support item? She did an amazing job with my wristband."

"What tech?"

"You know, the one from that small support company... Tech Nexus Solutions, I think?" Denki said, scratching his head. "She's really good. Fixed up my gear and even made some improvements I didn't know I needed."

Bakugou's eyebrows shot up, his interest piqued. He'd never admit it, but finding someone competent enough to work on his gear was becoming a real pain in the ass.

Mina's eyes sparkled as she leaned across the table. "Oh? And was this before or after you tried to sleep with her, Denki?"

The electric hero shrugged, smirking. "It didn't work. She's too professional. My charm had no effect on her."

Bakugou snorted. "What fucking charm?"

"Hey!" Denki protested, puffing out his chest. "I'll have you know I can get any woman into my bed!"

Sero burst out laughing, nearly choking on his drink. "Except tech girl, apparently!"

The table erupted in laughter, even Bakugou's lips twitching into something that might have been a smirk.

"Whatever," Denki grumbled, slumping in his seat. "She's still the best tech I've worked with. Seriously though, she's really talented. I've heard she's becoming pretty popular because of her work. It's kind of surprising she's still working for such a small company."

Bakugou' leaned back in his seat, trying to look uninterested. "So what's so great about this chick? She some kind of genius or something?"

Denki shook his head. "I don't know if I'd say genius, but she's definitely skilled. She completely redesigned the circuitry in my wristband to make it more efficient. And get this - she even added a feature that helps me control the direction of my electricity better. I didn't even know that was possible!"

If this tech was as good as Dunce Face claimed, maybe she could actually fix his gauntlets. But he wasn't about to get his hopes up just yet.

"What's her name?" he asked, trying to sound casual.

Denki furrowed his brow, thinking. "Uh... I can't remember her full name. But I know everyone just calls her by her first name. It's... damn, what was it?"

Mina giggled. "Wow, Denki, you really made an impression on her, huh?"

"Shut up," Denki grumbled. "I told you, it wasn't like that. She was just really focused on the work."

Bakugou's patience was wearing thin. "Oi, Pikachu, focus. What else do you know about her?"

"Well, she's got a reputation for being able to handle difficult clients. I heard she even managed to calm down Rubber Man when he was throwing a fit about his costume."

Bakugou snorted. Rubber Man was notorious for being a pain in the ass to work with. If this tech could handle him, maybe she'd be able to deal with his... particular communication style.

"She's also really innovative," Denki added. "Like, she doesn't just fix things, she improves them. Makes them work better with your quirk, you know?"

Bakugou nodded slowly. His gauntlets were good, but they could be better. If this tech was as skilled as Denki claimed, maybe she could take his gear to the next level.

"Anything else?" he pressed.

Kirishima raised an eyebrow at him. "You seem pretty interested, Bakugou. Thinking of giving her a shot with your gauntlets?"

Bakugou scowled. "I'm just gathering information, Shitty Hair. Don't read too much into it."

But the truth was, he was interested. More than interested. For the first time in weeks, he felt a glimmer of hope that his gear problems might actually be solved.

"Look," Denki said, pulling out his phone. "I don't remember her name, but I've got the contact info for Tech Nexus Solutions. Want me to send it to you?"

Bakugou hesitated for a moment, then nodded curtly. "Yeah, whatever. Might as well check it out."

As Denki tapped away on his phone, Bakugou tried to quash the spark of excitement building in his chest. He'd been disappointed too many times before to get his hopes up now. But still... if this tech was half as good as Dunce Face made her out to be, she might just be exactly what he needed.

His phone buzzed with the incoming message, and Bakugou found himself actually looking forward to making a call in the morning. 

You were in your own little world working on Rubber Man's support gear modifications when a knock at your workshop door pulled your attention away. Looking up, you saw Aiko Nakamura, the Director of Tech Development, standing in the doorway with an unreadable expression on her face.

That wasn't good.

"Got a minute?" she asked, her tone serious.

Oh shit, definitely not good. Had you done something wrong? Had you messed up? Your stomach turned. Oh God, were you about to get fired? Did you have to cancel all your subscriptions? Put a pin on your emotional shopping habits?

You nodded, setting aside your tools. "Of course, what's up?"

Nakamura stepped inside, closing the door behind her. "I've got some news that's going to change things around here." She paused, building the suspense. "Dynamight is coming to Tech Nexus. And he's asked for you specifically."

Okay, good news, you were not getting fired today!

Wait- what did she say?

Your eyes widened, your heart rate picking up. "Dynamight? Like the number two hero?" Wait what?! "And he asked for me? Why?"

Nakamura shrugged. "Apparently, he's heard about your work. Your reputation precedes you."

You smiled. Working with Dynamight would be a massive opportunity, but it wasn't the hero himself that excited you. "His gauntlets," you breathed, your mind already racing with possibilities. "They're a marvel of engineering. The way they store and amplify his quirk is nothing short of genius."

Nakamura nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. "I thought you might say that. But I have to warn you, Dynamight isn't exactly known for being... easy to work with."

"I can handle difficult clients. You've seen me with Rubber Man."

"This is different," Nakamura cautioned. "Dynamight has a reputation for being... explosive, both literally and figuratively. He's driven three support techs to quit in the past year alone."

"Is that supposed to scare me off? Because it's having the opposite effect."

Nakamura chuckled. "I had a feeling you'd say that. Just... be prepared. This isn't just about you, you know. Landing Dynamight as a client would be a major win for Tech Nexus. We're talking increased visibility, more high-profile contracts, the works."

Right no pressure, no room for fuck ups.

All you had to do was suck it up and get your hands on those amazing gauntlets.

Simple, easy.

Your smile widened.

"I won't let you down," you promised. And you wouldn't. Not when you knew a chance to work with equipment like this came once in a life time. Even if that opportunity came attached to a blonde bomb.

"I know you won't," Nakamura said, smiling. "Dynamight will be here tomorrow afternoon. I suggest you start preparing."

As soon as Nakamura left, you sprang into action. You cleared your workbench, pushing Rubber Man's gear to the side. Screw him and his flexible limbs. This was too important to let anything else distract you.

You pulled up every bit of information you could find on Dynamight's gauntlets. You pored over schematics, material specifications, and performance data, your mind whirling with ideas for potential improvements.

The gauntlets were indeed a work of art, but you could already see areas where they could be refined. The nitroglycerin storage system could be more efficient, the ignition mechanism more responsive. You scribbled notes furiously, your excitement growing with each passing minute.

You barely noticed as the hours ticked by, your focus entirely on preparing for Dynamight's arrival. You reviewed footage of his recent battles, analyzing how he used his support gear in combat situations. You made lists of questions to ask, eager to delve into the nitty-gritty details of his equipment.

As night fell, you realized you hadn't eaten since lunch. Your stomach growled in protest, but you ignored it, too engrossed in your preparations to care about something as trivial as food.

You pulled up Dynamight's hero file, studying his quirk specifications and battle statistics. The raw power he wielded was staggering, and you found yourself marveling at the technical challenges his quirk presented. How to harness that explosive force without compromising safety or mobility? It was a delicious puzzle, one you couldn't wait to sink your teeth into.

You were so absorbed in your work that you didn't notice your coworkers leaving for the day, or the cleaning staff coming and going. It wasn't until the first rays of dawn began to peek through the windows that you realized you'd pulled an all-nighter.

Stretching, you felt a mix of exhaustion and exhilaration. Your desk was covered in notes, sketches, and half-formed ideas. You'd done all you could to prepare, and now all that was left was to meet the man himself.

And his beautiful gauntlets.

As you gathered your things to head home for a quick shower and change of clothes, a small part of you wondered if you were in over your head. Dynamight's reputation was intimidating, to say the least. But then you looked at the schematics of his gauntlets, at the notes you'd made, and your confidence returned.

You could handle Dynamight. You were sure of it. After all, you weren't some starstruck fan or easily cowed technician. You were a professional, damn good at your job, and more than ready for this challenge.

As you left the office, the rising sun painting the sky in shades of orange and pink, you couldn't help but smile. Today was going to be interesting, to say the least. And you couldn't wait to get started.

[konohagakurekakashi]

Kakashi's thoughts (as per our HC's) on seeing Tsunade not only back in the village but finding out she's the Godaime?!

|| In all honesty Kakashi was a listless, emotional eddy at the time, very evocative of the Uzushiogakure emblem stitched onto the standard issue blues he dresses in. With that said, I made this more about feelings than thoughts. Though in his case, I suppose it's the same thing. Accept it.

Initially he felt confused, red miasma evaporating from the recesses of his mind with every pulse of her mystical palm technique. Why was he in bed? Was this the hospital? Why and for how long has he been out? Then he became aware of the throb in his left eye-socket, the raw, burning ache of the Sharingan bringing with it the memories of a pair of cloaks adorned in red clouds and the crimson haze of Tsukuyomi. Red. Red.

The second feeling that followed was panic. If he was here, did that mean that Itachi and his pet fish managed to capture Naruto? Was Sasuke alright? What about Kurenai, Asuma and Gai? He pushed himself onto his elbows, then into a seated position, despite every muscle and joint screaming its protest. There was movement on his right, words being spoken, but he managed to ward of the poking, glowing digits with a grunt and a wince. He noticed that the tips of the receding fingernails were stained red. Red, more red.

What followed after was pain, just pain. The hand reaching for his being cuffed to the side in favour of him hunching forward so he could press the heel of his palm against his closed lid. He took a few shallow breaths, finally taking stock of the dim chakra flickers surrounding his bed. He noted Gai and Naruto’s first, the signatures that were so distinctly them, answering at least two of the questions which he had swirling through his mind. They seemed eager, impatient even, not at all aggrieved, which left the end results of their fight with the Akatsuki up in the air.

He paused when his sluggish mind finally processed the other two chakra imprints in the room, the instant recognition causing his shallow breaths to stutter and cease and then there was just…disbelief…because Uchiha Itachi appearing in the Hidden Leaf Village for round two was more believable than his present. Against his better judgement the Jōnin angled his head to the side to take in the two kunoichi, a twinge of pain ensuing the movement. Senju Tsunade looked more or less the same as he remembered, her hands on her hips and a rue, annoyed smile twisting the corners of her mouth – no doubt a consequence of him slapping her hands away. Her hair was longer and a diamond seal found its way across her temple, but in all other aspects; she seemed...unchanged. He also noted that her nails were red. Always red.

When asked, Kakashi would aver that he stopped looking at the large, village gates years ago. Not even when he passed through Konoha’s gates himself did he spare them a blink. He didn’t need to, not since that day. The guard post and its two occupants became his end point- his “I’m here” and his “I’m going” but not those gates.  It was a bitter nexus to observe, even through all of the aches and the brain fog; that the haori she was wearing was the exact same colour as those towering egresses. She was speaking then, tone still very much annoyed, reprimanding him for allowing a measly two insurgents to get the better of him, before allowing Gai and Naruto to whisk her away. The silence that followed brought the shame and the guilt.

It was Asuma that eventually informed him that Tsunade would be the Godaime Hokage, leaning against his open window, whilst recalling the way the woman had to dispel academy grade traps courtesy of his nephew. The boy’s antics seemed to please him, plumes of smoke exuding from grinning lips and coiling out of the window like wispy snakes, before a screeching nurse appeared to kick him and his cigarettes out of the room, complaining all the while as she shadowed Asuma to the exit: ‘smoke was detrimental to one’s health and absolutely forbidden within the hospital. How dare he!’ Kakashi watched a sheepish Sarutobi go, unsure how he felt about the news. On one hand he understood the stratagem that the Elders followed. It made sense to appoint a student of the Third as his replacement, and with Orochimaru labeled a rogue and Jiraiya frolicking across the Elemental Nations to sustain his spy network, Tsunade was the only viable option. Even though logical Kakashi still couldn’t fully fathom it. She didn’t strike him as the type to sit behind a desk all day, signing off on paperwork. In all the years that he has known her, she has never once showed an interest in the hat despite it practically being an 'heirloom' and then there was also the fact that she was never, ever supposed to return; his mind having reconciled that datum when he eventually stopped peering at those towering gates. Accepting the position of 'Fire Shadow' was like chaining oneself to the village - and like him, she was already chained to something else, the specters of her past.

Despite his misgivings, the Sannin’s healing increased his recovery greatly and he soon found himself slumped amongst the rest of the villagers, peering up at the Hokage Tower as Tsunade formally accepted the hat and the shackles associated therewith. Even bearing witness to the whole thing, a gentle breeze anointing the moment to memory, he still could not accede the juncture for what it was, expecting the Iryō-nin to disappear through those green posterns the moment the Elders let their guard down. He wouldn’t blame her and Shizune for the withdrawal; the narrow, winding paths, crowded markets and booming village populace likely more alien now than the tōro lanterns of the Fire Capital.

Still, he happened to glimpse her at an Izakaya the day after the ceremony, sake cup slanted in her grip as she paged through a file. He saw her a few days after that, growling at an academy instructor for not including basic first aid in the current curriculum and again some days thereafter with a few rumpled scrolls tucked underneath an arm, whilst she decreed for all to hear how tired she was of fixing her sensei’s 'messes'. Days turned into a week and one week evolved into two and before he knew it, he was meandering his way passed the two guards stationed outside of the Kage’s door with a full ten minutes to spare. Their shocked splutters and quacks of indignation went ignored, which he supposed only added to their ire (but really, despite the Konoha grapevine spewing the contrary he did own an alarm clock). Once stood in the confines of the office, Kakashi didn’t feel a jolt of surprise as he noted the Godaime behind the desk. He didn’t hesitate when he stepped up to accept his first A-rank since being discharged from the hospital and he made no interruptions as the Kage expanded on the mission rudiments, red-tipped fingers folded deftly underneath her chin. The copy-nin only hummed his response, feeling acceptance.

@senjutsunade

[dzthenerd490]

File: Matilda

SCP#: AKT

Code Name: The Modern-Day Witch

Object Class: Thaumiel

Special Containment Procedures: SCP-AKT was given a home in Nx-AD: Archios, Isla Nublar with her new adoptive mother. The two were given a normal house with all the basic accommodations as well as a single AFA-1 unit as a servant. When going out for shopping or visiting the Dino Sanctuary, two Foundation agents are to keep an eye on them. They are to maintain a distance that prevents SCP-AKT from sensing them and if one of them is discovered they are to pull back and be replaced with another agent. The Foundation is to only deem SCP-AKT hostile if she engages hostility first. Anyone who engages hostility with SCP-AKT first is to be punished accordingly even if they are Foundation staff, there will be no exceptions.

Update 2006 - SCP-AKT has reached the age of employment at the Foundation and thus will be debriefed by the Anomalous Employment Division. 

Update 2008 - SCP-AKT has completed her training and is now a member of Mobile Task Force Alpha-9 - Division “Shield”. She will be living most of her time at Site-AM but will occasionally visit Nexus Point-AD to see her adoptive mother. Because she is a member of Division Shield she will only work on defense IF Site-AM is ever attacked. Until then she will work as a teacher for children of Foundation staff at Site-AM. SCP-AKT is fully within her rights to punish anyone who treats her badly as she was proven trustworthy to never bring harm to those who don’t deserve it. 

Description: SCP-AKT, at the time of writing is a six year old girl who possesses powerful telekinetic properties. She is able to perceive everything that happens around her in a 3 meter diameter. She can make objects levitate and power up machines with her mind alone. Despite this she doesn’t seem to have the ability to manifest or control any form of energy directly or if she can not to the same degree SCP-AAS can or any way the Foundation can see. 

Unlike other telekinetic anomalous humanoids, using her powers puts no strain on SCP-AKT whatsoever even if she uses it on hundreds of different tasks or does something extreme like lift an entire building. Even the all-powerful Agent Charlie McGee claims that it's impossible to use extreme amounts of her power for long periods of time without feeling at least a little bit of strain. 

To make things even more strange like Charlie and even SCP-AZJ who have clear anomalous origins, SCP-AKT has two completely normal biological parents. SCP-AKT had her origin among a normal, dysfunctional, and extremely neglectful family that had no anomalous properties or heritage. This unfortunately has proven that the evolution theory that has been spread around Foundation and administrative staff might be correct. Eventually meta humans will start becoming more and more dominant until there are no non-anomalous humans left. When this exactly will happen is unknown but the Foundation will have to work hard to ensure humanity will be ready by then. 

SCP-AKT was discovered in 1996 when she led a revolt against her horrifically vile and torturous principal and the abusive teaching staff. The school was infamous for mentally abusing children for the littlest of things but unfortunately being the only school in the area thus forcing parents to enroll their children there or move. Foundation staff approached her when she was disowned by her biological parents and adopted by her teacher, the only good teacher that didn't torture children. 

They confronted the two about SCP-AKT’s anomalous abilities and said she wasn’t a danger to people but instead the veil over the anomalous world. But rather than threatening containment she and her adoptive mother were offered housing at Nexus Point-AD. SCP-AKT was also told that there was an area filled with anomalous humanoids and Species of Interest members. She was immediately hooked and wanted to go so her adoptive mother didn’t protest, especially when they were told they would not have to pay anything and as a non-capitalist area all their food and other necessities were free of charge. 

Update 2006 - having been debriefed and processed by the Anomalous Employment Division SCP-AKT met with SCP-040, SCP-053, Iris Thompson, Stella Starchild, Meri Clef, Cidney Victoria, Thomas Shaw, Rainer Miller, Charlie McGee, David McGowan, and Sigurrós Stefánsdóttir. She expressed great delight meeting so many others that each had different anomalous abilities from her but were still anomalous like her. She expressed having no regrets joining the Foundation and wants to continue working within the AED in hopes of the Foundation finding and helping more anomalous humanoids. 

Update 2008 - SCP-AKT has completed her training and by law of the AED she is to now be known as Matilda Honey her civilian name. She has decided to join Mobile Task Force Alpha-9 Division "Shield" and specifically requested her off duty job be being a one of the teachers for children at Site-AM and any other Foundation owned location that might need it.

“I know we here at the Foundation aren’t really the good guys, since we can’t always afford to make the most ethical decisions. but damn does it feel good to bring a smile to an ankle bitter who’s known nothing but neglect and hate. Those faceless bastards at the top only care about containing and utilizing anomalies. But the few times we make sure an anomaly can have a nice home, a loving family, and is protected from the nasty bastards of the world, makes it all worth it.” - Dr. Zeek.

.

SCP: Horror Movie Files Hub

[mysticaltora8276]

OK, a little bit of story time for the Jedi apprentice series. When I was a young child in my teens actually. I actually picked up those books and enjoyed them. But it kind of felt a little off, considering that Qui-Gon in those books comes across in hindsight emotionally abusive. Seriously he does. Also, the Jedi order felt a little bit too remote to me. And a bit too focused on combat pros. Not like how in canon they come across as a religious order that while they do martial arts it kind of feels like a component of their order not the main focus. Like they’re not a military squad they’re just defenders.

Legends on the other hand, I think really leaned into the knight part. Jedi apprentice is a good example of that. There are some factors that I like about it like Obi-Wan‘s friends from the temple and some of the plot points aren’t that bad but again this is where you start to see the Jedi be portrayed as severe and more Marshall in a way that just doesn’t make sense and didn’t gel with the movies.

Jedi quest….. how to put it? I read Jedi quest and I just didn’t like it. The slight problems and an annoyed me with the first series were kind of exasperated by how the author treated Anakin Skywalker. I would like to press this with the fact that I am not an Anakin Skywalker apologist and I do think he’s very much responsible for his evil actions and nothing outside of polite influence in his own arrogance and failings made him fall to the dark side.

That said Jedi quest went out of their way to make him into an almost sociopathic person. He does horrible things and feels no guilt about it. At least that’s the impression I got. Also, there is absolutely no communication between him and Obi-Wan, which just isn’t the case aside from a few sensitive topics. He basically is very open with Obi-Wan and is very communicative with him. Also, there’s a character that I just couldn’t stand because he came across as one of those holier than thou art people which I deplore a lot. Ferus Olin.

This character was depicted as “everything Anakin should be.“ But the fact of the matter is is the way he is written he comes across as a snooty holier than that word as I’ve said before. Half of the time I wanted to smack him and he makes such remarks that I just feel like that he personified what everybody thought the Jedi order was, but they actually weren’t. Holier than thou art people who do absolutely jack all to help. Not to mention the fact of the whole issue of Anakin, purposely allowing someone’s lightsaber to fail because of arrogance. Yes, Anakin can be arrogant, but he goes out of his way to protect people. He does not purposely endanger someone just to get one up on another person.

For those of you wondering here’s the scene. Anakin and three other apprentices are lost on a planet, including Mr. Holier than that art. One of them can’t make his lightsaber properly. I’m not even joking. Tru Veld has a malfunctioning lightsaber which you think his master would check if he is that inefficient with a light saber making enterprise. You know that thing that is a big deal in the gathering? But in fairness to the book that was a revealed until a little bit later, but it still feels pretty egregious. Anyway, he asks Ferus to repair his light saber because he does not “trust Anakin.“ They’re in a dark side nexus planet which exasperates the darker side I guess but it still feels kind of of a jerk move because this guy is supposedly Anakin‘s friend. So does that mean that deep down he doesn’t consider Anakin his friend? Wow what a jerk. Anyway so Mr. Collier than that does so. Except Anakin notices that there is a problem with it, and the Lightsaber will fail at a certain point. So what does Anakin do in the novel? Maybe loudly protest and say “stupid I know what I’m talking about and that light saber is gonna fail and we need to get out of here.” Considering that two of the three Jedi are supposedly his friends. One of which is a bad friend, but the other one a girl isn’t all that bad as Tru or at least she’s an acquaintance of his. Anyway, what did he do? He stays quiet. Again Anakin can be nasty and he does have his nasty tendencies, but usually that nasty is directed at the person he tries to limit the collateral damage Tusken camp massacre, not withstanding and this is before that so there is even less of an excuse for them to write him like this. But no, they write them like this, and it makes him come across as a sociopath. Which is directly contradicted in the movies and the TV show that came later on.

Anyway, they get into a fight and guess what? The light saber fails and one of them gets killed the girl. Classic example of fridging because she really doesn’t get that much characterization aside from the chick who dies and then Ferus out of “guilt” leaves the order. You see what I mean about not that good writing?

And make matters worse the sequel series of that treats the Jedi order like a cult. As an Ferus when he gets out, can’t make a decision because the Jedi order has always made his decisions for him. I really wanted to throw the book and I just kind of quit after Obi-Wan went back to Tattoine. See what I mean about inconsistent writing when it comes to the Jedi order? That’s not getting into the whole para, military organization that supposedly the Jedi could call up that came the heck out of nowhere.

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #273 (Part 1)

I did a whole lot of stuff today, and I have SO MANY PICTURES for you. So many that I'm going to have to break today's letter into multiple parts!!

Tuesdays are my Days of Doing Things, because my schedule at the bakery is, in theory, supposed to be variable. So far, I've only gotten mostly Saturdays, and that seems consistent so far, but I can't expect that forever. When I was hired, I told them that I cannot do Tuesdays, because Tuesday is when I have therapy. And so now, Tuesday is not just for therapy, but also for every other thing that needs to get done in relation to tending my mind and body.

...So I went to therapy. And, as you might expect, I talked a lot about the acquaintance I mentioned in some of my more recent letters; how he acts, how he has treated me, and how he views the world generally. I also spoke on some of his more positive qualities; though he has a number of limitations, there are some things that he is able to do incredibly well.

It was reiterated that I will need to keep my instincts sharp and my boundaries robust. It was also reiterated that I probably should not be anywhere alone with him, and perhaps not even near him in general. I'll probably stick to that; it seems wise, given the circumstances and his current brain wiring. I want to be a support, but I don't want to put myself (or him, because if he tried anything weird, I am certainly no pushover after the life I've led) in any kind of danger.

After that, I was approached by the dandelion-haired man who also goes to therapy at the same time as me, and another gentleman called Bn who also goes to therapy at the same time as us, and he, too, seems to have taken an interest in me for reasons I don't fully understand. The three of us engaged in riveting conversation for a long time about a variety of things, and I listened and tried to absorb as much as I could; they are both significantly older than me, and have lived through a lot of stuff, and have seen, done, and know much.

Apparently, Bn had been wanting to speak to the dandelion-haired man for a while now. Laughing delightedly (not derisively!), they called me a "nexus" of sorts; someone who connects people. And so I protested; I don't much like praise, and I don't much like being in the spotlight. So I waved my hands and I said, "no, no, no!", and I guess I was blushing a lot; because they mentioned it and started laughing even more (again, not derisively).

...Sigh... they're not wrong, given the role I generally occupy in my social circle. I do, generally, try to bring good people together. I like the humans who are close to me, and I want them to experience the awesomeness of the other humans who are close to me. Good things happen when kindhearted minds come together. It's a beautiful thing.

...I guess I'd rather do it without being noticed or acknowledged, though. I'm only interesting and delightful if you don't look too closely, because when you look too closely, you start to realize that I'm weird and awkward.

...I guess it's why I can withstand the fact that I'll never actually meet you, the fact that you'll never actually write back to me. I don't wanna give you a bad time. I don't want you to start talking to me, only to discover that I'm not what you thought I was...

...

...I wonder if it's just a matter of time before the dandelion-haired man and Bn decide that I'm no good to talk to anymore.

...Well in any case! After that, I noticed how perfect the air outside is, and so, on a whim, I decided to explore the area with those picnic tables that I took a picture of for you in a previous letter; I wonder if you remember it!

I parked the car near a cool-looking building nearby, and then I made my way to the area with the picnic tables. I got some pictures for you along the way:

...And then I finally got there!!

...I decided to explore the area!! There was a tiny brook and lots of flowers and a wooded spot!

...Here's the wooded area. I found a spot where branches and trees and logs come together at the right angle to form something that looks like a door; how spoopy!!!

...Do you suppose I'd be brought to some-other-where if I could step through this impossible doorway? Ahahaha!

...Maybe we can pretend that if I walked through, I'd somehow end up where you are. Wouldn't that be neat!

It was a big place. And the air felt so nice, and the sky looked so promising!

...I found a bunch of really big feathers, too! Some of them were rainbowy when the sunlight struck them just right!

...I found 14 of them, actually!

Here's some more of the brook, and some pictures of funky tree roots, too:

Oh, and I forgot to mention; some crow followed me pretty much the whole time, flitting from tree to tree, and yelling at me occasionally. But I'm already almost at the maximum number of allowable photos, so I'll continue this in the next part!!

I love you!!! I'll write again in literally just a little bit!!

Your friend, Lumine

[coastxlwaters]

Not 5k words but I gave up, it’s literally just a comfort one shot I can do whatever the frick I want

Please give me tips on how to improve my writing- it kinda sucks, as well as my grammar-

Word count: 2451

Reader insert, QPR Dark sun x Eclipse, Reader gets adopted lol, Nexus is like a brother to both but NEITHER Solstice (dark sun) or eclipse look at eachother as brothers or had in the past, only as enemies, friends, and then to partners. Nexus is barely in there but like, whatever.

Night terrors, mentions of living shadows and creatures in the shadows, mentions of distorted faces, familial cuddles, reader also gets kidnapped lol-

VERY OOC

NOTE: these night terrors are based on some I myself have had, and some my brother has had. He had them much worse and more frequent than me so I might get somethings wrong.

Family with a side of terrors:

You’re lying on the floor staring up at the ceiling. The galaxy light you bought a while back spun gorgeous constellations and planets across the ceiling above you.

As you get up your vision starts to swim, black dots and fuzzy edges were the only things visible. Leaning onto the wall to support yourself as your vision starts to clear. Sadly those are not unusual, you walk towards the door and sigh while opening it. It's been a long day, but you have to clean up. You have been putting it off for to long

Your footsteps are surprisingly steady as you walk down the hall. You turn to your right and pause to look at yourself in the mirror. You look as tired as you feel. Your once bright eyes dull to match the hair that falls loose in front of your face. Your skin, tan yet so pale that you wonder if your vision is failing you again. Your shoulders hang low yet your head hangs lower. Your once proud facade is finally cracking after years of neglect.

You knew this has happened before. Yet this time it seems like it is lasting longer. You try not to dwell on the thought that it may be that you finally broke and are not able to pull yourself back together.

You walk through the living room past the red and yellow animatronic who you have gotten really close to in the past few months. They were staying at your house for the week, you were super embarrassed when they walked in on the mess that you tend to call your kitchen. Yet they didn't seem to mind, they simply patted your head and went to lay on the couch, simply whispering, “Do not worry about that, dear, I do not mind.” In their cool, gentle, voice.

As you got to know them, you know that under that gentle and deep voice is a high pitched one that only comes out when the animatronic laughs. You started connecting the dots and figuring out that he actually trained his voice to be deeper, like an actor might train their voice to deepen to fit certain roles, or a trans man would work to make his voice less lady-like. Both are great examples, but you cannot think of an example for how the higher pitched voice sounded. It is slightly grating on the ears more genuine than the more used voice.

While thinking about the yellow lanky animatronic that now resides on your couch, you didn’t realize you already started cleaning the kitchen. It now looks less like a craft room, and more like an actual place to make clean and healthy food. You continue, moving onto the fridge, the cabinets, and the pantry. While organizing the pantry, you hear a creak from the couch as the animatronic on top of it slowly moves off.

They call your name quietly, “are you alright? It’s about 1 am, you should be asleep.” The wood floors creak in protest when the animatronic starts walking towards you.

“Don’t worry Solstice! I’m fine! I just got some late night motivation!” Your voice is scratchy and quieter than you needed it to be. You force a small chuckle to try to save the animatronic from noticing your appearance.

“You are not alright, I should have done this way sooner, before your parents could get into your head again. But you are coming with me, Eclipse, and Nexus.” The gentleness in the voice didn’t change, yet there was a harsher, more demanding aura to the words.

“Wait-t hold on- wait-t, no-o wh-at?..” You stutter trying to get your words out as the animatronic gently takes hold of you and carries you into a- a- PORTAL?!

God, you must be dreaming. What is happening, your frazzled brain cannot gather the scattered thoughts into one coherent process and you are still trying to figure out what you just went through. The hold around you tightens slightly yet still careful not to harm you or make you uncomfortable.

You round the corner and hear two voices, one sounding even deeper than Solstice’s and one sounding similar yet less scratchy and more… whiny?

“-are NOT getting a damn dog unless you…” The deeper voice trails off, the owner it belongs to has a crown of rays like solstice, intact the look almost identical to solstice if the height difference was not in the equation. Yet their color scheme looks more like a late sunset. Blacks, reds, and deep oranges. All with a rusty but at the same time beautiful sheen to it.

The other, less tall, yet gorgeous animatronic had beautiful purples that made up the outfit and casing. Ranging from magenta to deep almost black indigos. White stars sprinkled down their long nightcap. The other staring at the two entering beings as well.

You suddenly felt very conscious of our matted appearance and how tired and mangy you must look, like a rat. You are confused on how you got here, where you are, and who these animatronics are. Very soon your thoughts start to clear and you remember Solstice telling you about his partner, Eclipse, they are in a queerplatonic relationship. Then you remember him talking about his sibling, Nexus, a gender-fluid who is going through their rebellious phase. Yet Solstice still loves him as his closest friend. Near brother to both. Yet Neither Eclipse nor Solstice see each other in a familial way. Only as queerplatonic partners.

The brilliant purple animatronic speaks up and says your name in a questioning tone, “is that them?” It’s hard to tell by the look on their face yet they seem slightly excited?

Eclipse, who has stayed silent, walks up to you and Solstice, “You look pretty tired, and it was about 2 am in your universe. We should get you to bed.”

You scramble out of Solstice’s arms to your feet and try to protest, “No! No, don’t worry about me! I’m fi- I’m fine! Se-se-see? I can walk and sta- walk and stand normally!”

The darker animatronic looks at you with no clear emotion yet you can tell he didn’t buy what you said. “Well, then you can walk with me to the couch we have as we haven’t had time to get your room set up yet.” The voice clearly showed there was no room for argument.

You resigned to walking behind them, they constantly slowed down and you were forced to walk beside them instead. It was kind of comforting… They were showing that they cared enough not to leave you behind and get lost, or maybe you were looking too deep into it.

As you and them rounded the corner into that was a room that held a couch and TV, with a modest fireplace lit under and behind it. You cannot see where the smoke is going but it is not filling up the room.

You politely sat on a chair that wouldn’t take up too much room on the couch, as you heard that Nexus sleeps on the couch a lot since their bedroom makes them feel trapped. You didn’t want to make the animatronics uncomfortable your first night being a guest here, even if it wasn’t your decision is basic decency to be polite while staying at someone else’s home.

Eclipse sighed at where you decided to sit, yet continued to fetch a bunch of pillows and blankets for you. You tried to refuse some as they still need some but they just shoved the pillows behind your back and the blankets on top of you before you could protest. Though they seemed rough you could tell they had good intentions behind it, as they slipped out and past the door you barely heard them whisper a goodnight.

You started to feel comfortable as the blankets were warm and the pillows comfortable, but the shadows crept up on you. From every direction it felt like something was gonna slip out. You felt an unease travel down your spine and that something was watching you. You knew if you turned around you would see nothing while the horrors in front of you took the chance to emerge. Yet if you didn’t turn around the creature behind you would travel closer and closer.

Your vision swam like what happened not too long ago, but this time you saw distorted faces that flashed in the fire light before vanishing. The world around you became fuzzy and unfocused. You feel someone, or something, grab your ankles. You couldn’t help but shriek and thrash. You felt something run a claw around your throat and you launched yourself in the other direction.

Crashing into the side of the chair which creaked and groaned before tipping onto its side. Throwing you onto the floor with your limbs splayed everywhere as you thrash to get the hands or chains around your ankles to come undone or at least loose-

You wake up. When did you fall asleep?! You feel someone clamping their hands down on your sides to try to keep you still. You shoot up and panic and your face crashes against something metal. Your head HURTS, you almost start crying. EVERYTHING has been going wrong recently, why can’t ANYTHING go well?!

—————————

Nexus is startled when they hear a shriek from the living room, tonight they didn’t use it due to the quest that is staying. They rush in and see you falling on the ground. His scanners show that you are having a night terror.

“Fuck- I can’t-, I can’t do this!” He pings Solstice for them to come help them. Solstice is halfway across the house and will take about 5 minutes to get over here, it doesn’t look like they can go that long without getting hurt though.

Without thinking and seeing an opportunity, they launch over and grab your sides to try to get you to stop moving. You flail for a couple seconds longer until you shoot awake and hit them in the chin. They reel back for a second while still holding onto you. They look over you worriedly as you catch your breath and hold your head.

—————————

Solstice and Eclipse were sprinting down the halls, nearly crashing into each other where the hallways that connect their separate rooms meet. They do not notice however, as they continue to run to the living room where both Nexus and you currently were.

Eclipse nearly crashes into the door with how fast they were running but manages to catch themself on the wall and make little noise except the scratch of metal. Solstice enters quietly yet quickly and crouches down next to Nexus who is now holding you gently in his arms while you try to regain your breath and the world around you.

Eclipse comes in and does the same yet holds your head that was hanging limp on your chest. They do not want your neck to get sore hanging in that position for too long. You were already sore and hurt enough.

—————————

Your breath hitches and your vision swims, but it slowly clears and the whispers you were hearing fade into the background as you were held in what you thought was a blanket. You realize too late that you were in Nexus’s arms and while trying to slip out you end up in Solstice’s instead.

—————————

You are tired from the night terror and frazzled. Your eyes look more clear yet still foggy, Eclipse notes, they gently say your name so as to not startle you and release your head now that it is in a more relaxed position. “Do you need anything?..”

Their hand hovers over your head, wondering if you were okay with being touched. They knew they liked to have their rays pet after having a nightmare or night terror, but they did not know if you liked to have your hair touched. You still looked so out of it and they knew if they found some form of contact that you were okay with it may help.

They decide it’s better to at least try, they gently use their claws to run up and down your scalp in a soothing motion. You breathed a sigh of relief, your eyes closed. They decided that’s a good sign and continued to pet along your scalp and untangle your hair.

Your breathing is still ragged but it seems like you haven’t gotten much sleep lately as you slowly recover and almost immediately fall asleep again. Eclipse chuckles and turns back around to face Nexus who was already on the couch getting all the pillows and blankets set up.

“What are you doing over there?” Eclipse asked the lunar animatronic with tiredness showing all across their features.

“Getting the couch set up for us, dumbass!” Nexus shoots back, “We are not leaving them here alone again, RIGHT??” The tone is skeptical and sarcastic.

Eclipse sighed as they got up and their joints creaked. They continued over to help Nexus set up the couch as the smaller animatronic smirks at him.

“See? That’s what I thought, I CAN take care of SOMETHING!” The lunar model joked.

“Oh my GOD, enough with the damn DOG. WE ALREADY HAVE A CAT.” Despite them joking around, both of the voices were quiet enough to not wake you.

—————————

Solstice quietly gets up and pads over to the couch that is set up. They asked quietly if Nexus and Eclipse were okay with snuggling and both said they were okay with it.

Lying down with you sleeping in their arms, Nexus on their side, and Eclipse squished behind them, was surprisingly nice. They gently covered you in a blanket as you snuggled up against Solstice and Eclipse, who moved over to the side to be more comfortable.

Eclipse gently pet your hair again and you immediately relaxed into the soft, comforting touches. Snuggling more into Eclipse’s side and arms yet Solstice was okay with that.

It was barely a whisper, but they heard you sleepily awake and ask, “Can… Can I call you two my parents?..” Before you are able to say more you yawn and your head falls back onto Eclipse’s side from his gentle untangling of your hair.

“Of course you can call us your parents,” They responded in unison, “you deserve some better ones anyways…” Solstice adds quietly. You were already asleep once they finished but they felt like it was better to add. They watched as you slept making sure you had no more night terrors, yet they knew you would most likely not, they wanted to make sure. I mean, its their job as a parent now!

[ivorytome]

The Sinister Symphony: Unraveling the Nexus of Music and Political Propaganda

In this murky world, music becomes more than just a medium of artistic expression; it transforms into a potent weapon that can sway hearts, manipulate minds, and solidify the foundations of political control. With every note, composers and propagandists alike have woven tales of loyalty, nationalism, and dissent, leaving an indelible mark on the muniments of time.

I. The Power of Melody: Stirring Emotions and Shaping Minds

Music, with its ability to evoke emotions and touch the soul, has been harnessed by political leaders to sway the masses. Propagandists carefully select melodies that resonate with collective sentiments, using them as a conduit to deliver their messages. Whether it's the rousing anthems of patriotism or melancholic ballads of sacrifice, music can enchant minds and manipulate perceptions. For example

Nazi Germany's Propaganda Machine

During the dark days of Nazi Germany, the Third Reich skillfully employed music to propagate their ideology. The infamous "Horst-Wessel-Lied" became the anthem of the Nazi Party, spreading its message of nationalism and anti-Semitic hatred. The orchestration of concerts and public performances ensured the dissemination of propaganda to the masses, leaving an indelible mark on history.

II. Musicians as Pawns: The Duality of Art and Politics

Artists, with their creative brilliance, often find themselves caught in the crossfire of political agendas. Music becomes a double-edged sword, providing an avenue for self-expression while potentially becoming a pawn for political manipulation.

THE SOVIET UNION’S CENSORSHIP OF DISSENT

In the Soviet Union, musicians faced the pressure of conforming to the state's socialist realism principles. Those who deviated from the prescribed themes were censored or even persecuted. On the other hand, some artists found subtle ways to express dissent, embedding hidden meanings in their lyrics and compositions, attempting to circumvent the grip of political censorship.

III. Battle of Narratives: Music in Political Movements

Political movements have harnessed music as a unifying force, igniting passion and inspiring change. From protests to revolutions, the anthems of resistance have amplified the voices of the oppressed and emboldened the fight against injustice.

The American Civil Rights Movement

The American Civil Rights Movement of the 1960s found strength in music. Songs like "We Shall Overcome" became the rallying cries for equality and justice. These musical expressions not only galvanized the movement but also inspired solidarity and resilience in the face of adversity.

C O N C L U S I O N

As we venture deeper into the shadows of history, we encounter the haunting legacy of music entangled with political propaganda. Its undeniable power to sway emotions and shape minds has made it a potent weapon in the hands of manipulators throughout time.

Yet, we must also remember that music remains a reflection of our collective consciousness, capable of inspiring revolutions and giving voice to the silenced. As we tread this intricate tapestry of music and politics, let us be mindful of its duality and harness its potential to create a world where freedom of expression and human rights thrive.

@ivorytome

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

March 20, 2023

Heather Cox Richardson

As rumors swirl about what may be an upcoming indictment against former president Donald Trump from Manhattan district attorney Alvin Bragg, Republican Party leaders are in a bit of a pickle. For years now, they have gone along with—and some have fed—Trump’s insistence that the government is stacked against him and therefore against the right wing. Some have gone along out of conviction, undoubtedly, but others almost certainly were trying to keep the base voters without whom the Republicans cannot win an election. Now, as it appears that some of the legal cases in which Trump is embroiled might be coming to the point of indictments, they are in a difficult position. Trump is blowing up his social media website with increasingly unhinged accusations and demanding that his supporters “take our nation back.” His language echoes that of the weeks before the January 6, 2021, attack on the U.S. Capitol, during which Trump supporters tried to overturn the results of a presidential election. And few Republican leaders actually want to launch a war against the Manhattan district attorney's office. So far, at least, Trump’s demands for his supporters to rally around him again have produced anemic results, suggesting his power is waning. When senior reporter for HuffPost Christopher Mathias reported from outside the Manhattan DA’s office, he found that the media there far outnumbered the protesters. “So many reporters here I just saw a reporter start interviewing someone but they turned out to be a reporter too,” he tweeted. As a number of people have pointed out, Trump rallied his supporters in late 2020 around the idea that a key election had been stolen. His supporters are likely to find the idea that he must be protected over financial crimes committed in New York, possibly related to a sexual encounter with an adult film actress, less compelling. And then there is the issue that those who turned out to support him in January 2021 found themselves on the hook for crimes, all on their own, without his help. Just today, a jury found four more people affiliated with the Oath Keepers guilty of conspiring to obstruct an official proceeding, conspiracy to prevent an official from doing their duty, destruction of government property, and civil disorder. The jury found two others guilty of entering and remaining on restricted grounds. Meanwhile, Trump spent the day “truthing” on social media. So, if Trump’s influence is waning and he is perhaps facing indictments—remember, there are a number of investigations outstanding, and for all that Trump is talking about an indictment about his hush-money payment, we do not know what any of them will turn up—what direction should Republicans who signed on with Trump now jump? Rachael Bade, Eugene Daniels, and Ryan Lizza of Politico reported this morning that House leadership has gathered for their annual three-day retreat at a luxury resort in Orlando, Florida. Led by House Judiciary Committee chair Jim Jordan (R-OH), far-right representatives were preparing to demand that members of the Manhattan district attorney’s office testify about any such indictment. Indeed, this afternoon, the chairs of three House committees—Jordan, House Oversight Committee chair James Comer (R-KY), and House Administration Committee chair Bryan Steil (R-WI)—sent a letter to Bragg criticizing his investigation as an “unprecedented abuse of prosecutorial authority,” even though there has been no announcement of any charges. The chairs claim they want to know if federal money was used in the investigation, but Representative Daniel Goldman (D-NY) noted: “Defending Trump is not a legitimate legislative purpose for Congress to investigate a state district attorney. Congress has no jurisdiction to investigate the Manhattan DA, which receives no federal funding nor has any other federal nexus.” Representative Glenn Ivey (D-MD), a former state’s attorney for Prince George’s County, went further, saying that he was “stunned” that the House Republicans were trying to obstruct a criminal investigation and intimidate an elected state law enforcement official. House speaker Kevin McCarthy (R-CA) says the chairs are just “asking questions.” He appears to be trying to prevent an attack on the legal system while also keeping his far-right extremists happy. He says that people should not protest if Trump is arrested, but also seems to be trying to keep his claim on Trump voters by claiming that Bragg’s investigation is politically motivated. Florida governor Ron DeSantis has his own problems with the whole situation. He wants Trump’s voters but does not want to be saddled with a scenario in which Trump tries to hole up at Mar-a-Lago to resist an indictment in New York. Today, DeSantis said he would not get involved in an extradition order, although Florida law allows him to intervene in a contested extradition. His lack of support for the former president apparently outraged Trump, who promptly accused DeSantis of sexually assaulting a teenaged boy. The tension between the two Republican leaders has prompted speculation that Trump will fight extradition if only to force DeSantis to choose between alienating Trump’s supporters or kowtowing to the former president. Either would wound his presidential hopes, perhaps fatally. Other Republicans are trying to deflect attention from the former president’s potentially criminal behavior and to focus instead on what they say is overreach by prosecutors. But when former vice president Mike Pence this weekend said he was “taken aback at the idea of indicting a former president of the United States,” former Republican National Committee chair Michael Steele tweeted "Why the hell are you 'taken aback by the idea of indicting a former President' who has engaged in criminal behavior? Why continue to make excuses for Trump who would rather see you hanged & rancid behavior you decry in others?" Other Republicans have apparently decided to stay out of this whole mess. It is notable that Senate minority leader Mitch McConnell’s (R-KY) voice is missing right now, as he recovers from his fall. Meanwhile, the Fox News Corporation’s troubles over the defamation lawsuit against it by Dominion Voting Systems have just gotten worse. Fox News producer Abby Grossberg has sued the company in New York and Delaware, saying company lawyers tried to coerce her into giving misleading testimony in the lawsuit to set up her and FNC personality Maria Bartiromo to take the blame for the airing of Trump’s conspiracy theories against Dominion. Regardless of how that lawsuit proceeds, Grossberg’s quite graphic account of the misogyny at the network will not help its profile right now. And what is most astonishing about all of today’s sordid news is that, so far, nothing has happened. If and when it does, it’s going to be quite a ride. What did happen today, though, is that the Biden administration issued the president’s economic report—which I will cover in more depth in the next few days—and that American aid worker Jeff Woodke, who was taken prisoner more than six years ago in Niger and held captive by a terrorist group, has been released. Secretary of State Blinken told reporters, “As you know, I have no higher priority or focus than bringing home any unjustly detained American, wherever that is in the world.” He thanked the government of Niger, Special Envoy for Hostage Affairs Roger Carstens, and “all of those who have been working at the department” to get Woodke released.

—

Notes:

https://www.politico.com/newsletters/playbook/2023/03/20/scoop-house-gop-targets-manhattan-da-00087811

https://www.nytimes.com/2023/03/20/business/media/fox-news-abby-grossberg.html

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

[a-table-of-fics]

The Man from Utah, Chapter 8, Draft 1, Part 5

Thankfully, that was the only protest before they piled in once more. Doto floored it and soon the group was ready to outrun the sky itself.

Liam hadn’t bothered to settle into his seat. He was too busy looking back at the sky. The cracks had seemed to subside for a moment, waiting for flecks of red to crumble and fall to the ground. In the distance, he swore he saw some kind of black fire rising from the ashes of that building.

There wasn’t a moment to dwell on that impossibility, though, as the cracks were glowing blue.

There was swerving, jolting Liam out of his seat. He nearly landed in Fletcher’s lap, and quickly noticed how Fletcher was readying a revolver.

“What the--?”

“Shh! Can’t you see we’ve got company?”

“What do you see, Doto?” asked Dan. He wriggled a bit, just enough to adjust his gauntlets.

“Agent convoy!”

Liam looked up. The AAHW didn’t use any emblems on their vehicles, but the armored cars here shared some sort of scratched-off logo. The red tint to the windshields wasn’t a trademark of the Agency, either.

“Those carriages…” Dan muttered, having lifted himself up slightly. “Are those Nexus?”

Metal shifted, grinding against the floor’s padding.

“Not now, big guy!” Doto shouted.

“Don’t you know?” Fletcher scoffed between glances at the cars. “Nexus has been kaput for like a month!”

“Their evil may still lurk,” Dan replied. “Be on your guard.”

“Ya think?”

[leutjaneausten]

Open in app or online

March 20, 2023

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

MAR 21

As rumors swirl about what may be an upcoming indictment against former president Donald Trump from Manhattan district attorney Alvin Bragg, Republican Party leaders are in a bit of a pickle.

For years now, they have gone along with—and some have fed—Trump’s insistence that the government is stacked against him and therefore against the right wing. Some have gone along out of conviction, undoubtedly, but others almost certainly were trying to keep the base voters without whom the Republicans cannot win an election.

Now, as it appears that some of the legal cases in which Trump is embroiled might be coming to the point of indictments, they are in a difficult position. Trump is blowing up his social media website with increasingly unhinged accusations and demanding that his supporters “take our nation back.” His language echoes that of the weeks before the January 6, 2021, attack on the U.S. Capitol, during which Trump supporters tried to overturn the results of a presidential election. And few Republican leaders actually want to launch a war against the Manhattan district attorney's office.

So far, at least, Trump’s demands for his supporters to rally around him again have produced anemic results, suggesting his power is waning. When senior reporter for HuffPost Christopher Mathias reported from outside the Manhattan DA’s office, he found that the media there far outnumbered the protesters. “So many reporters here I just saw a reporter start interviewing someone but they turned out to be a reporter too,” he tweeted.

As a number of people have pointed out, Trump rallied his supporters in late 2020 around the idea that a key election had been stolen. His supporters are likely to find the idea that he must be protected over financial crimes committed in New York, possibly related to a sexual encounter with an adult film actress, less compelling.

And then there is the issue that those who turned out to support him in January 2021 found themselves on the hook for crimes, all on their own, without his help. Just today, a jury found four more people affiliated with the Oath Keepers guilty of conspiring to obstruct an official proceeding, conspiracy to prevent an official from doing their duty, destruction of government property, and civil disorder. The jury found two others guilty of entering and remaining on restricted grounds. Meanwhile, Trump spent the day “truthing” on social media.

So, if Trump’s influence is waning and he is perhaps facing indictments—remember, there are a number of investigations outstanding, and for all that Trump is talking about an indictment about his hush-money payment, we do not know what any of them will turn up—what direction should Republicans who signed on with Trump now jump?

Rachael Bade, Eugene Daniels, and Ryan Lizza of Politico reported this morning that House leadership has gathered for their annual three-day retreat at a luxury resort in Orlando, Florida. Led by House Judiciary Committee chair Jim Jordan (R-OH), far-right representatives were preparing to demand that members of the Manhattan district attorney’s office testify about any such indictment.

Indeed, this afternoon, the chairs of three House committees—Jordan, House Oversight Committee chair James Comer (R-KY), and House Administration Committee chair Bryan Steil (R-WI)—sent a letter to Bragg criticizing his investigation as an “unprecedented abuse of prosecutorial authority,” even though there has been no announcement of any charges.

The chairs claim they want to know if federal money was used in the investigation, but Representative Daniel Goldman (D-NY) noted: “Defending Trump is not a legitimate legislative purpose for Congress to investigate a state district attorney. Congress has no jurisdiction to investigate the Manhattan DA, which receives no federal funding nor has any other federal nexus.”

Representative Glenn Ivey (D-MD), a former state’s attorney for Prince George’s County, went further, saying that he was “stunned” that the House Republicans were trying to obstruct a criminal investigation and intimidate an elected state law enforcement official.

House speaker Kevin McCarthy (R-CA) says the chairs are just “asking questions.” He appears to be trying to prevent an attack on the legal system while also keeping his far-right extremists happy. He says that people should not protest if Trump is arrested, but also seems to be trying to keep his claim on Trump voters by claiming that Bragg’s investigation is politically motivated.

Florida governor Ron DeSantis has his own problems with the whole situation. He wants Trump’s voters but does not want to be saddled with a scenario in which Trump tries to hole up at Mar-a-Lago to resist an indictment in New York. Today, DeSantis said he would not get involved in an extradition order, although Florida law allows him to intervene in a contested extradition.

His lack of support for the former president apparently outraged Trump, who promptly accused DeSantis of sexually assaulting a teenaged boy. The tension between the two Republican leaders has prompted speculation that Trump will fight extradition if only to force DeSantis to choose between alienating Trump’s supporters or kowtowing to the former president. Either would wound his presidential hopes, perhaps fatally.

Other Republicans are trying to deflect attention from the former president’s potentially criminal behavior and to focus instead on what they say is overreach by prosecutors. But when former vice president Mike Pence this weekend said he was “taken aback at the idea of indicting a former president of the United States,” former Republican National Committee chair Michael Steele tweeted "Why the hell are you 'taken aback by the idea of indicting a former President' who has engaged in criminal behavior? Why continue to make excuses for Trump who would rather see you hanged & rancid behavior you decry in others?"

Other Republicans have apparently decided to stay out of this whole mess. It is notable that Senate minority leader Mitch McConnell’s (R-KY) voice is missing right now, as he recovers from his fall.

Meanwhile, the Fox News Corporation’s troubles over the defamation lawsuit against it by Dominion Voting Systems have just gotten worse. Fox News producer Abby Grossberg has sued the company in New York and Delaware, saying company lawyers tried to coerce her into giving misleading testimony in the lawsuit to set up her and FNC personality Maria Bartiromo to take the blame for the airing of Trump’s conspiracy theories against Dominion.

Regardless of how that lawsuit proceeds, Grossberg’s quite graphic account of the misogyny at the network will not help its profile right now.

And what is most astonishing about all of today’s sordid news is that, so far, nothing has happened. If and when it does, it’s going to be quite a ride.

What did happen today, though, is that the Biden administration issued the president’s economic report—which I will cover in more depth in the next few days—and that American aid worker Jeff Woodke, who was taken prisoner more than six years ago in Niger and held captive by a terrorist group, has been released. Secretary of State Blinken told reporters, “As you know, I have no higher priority or focus than bringing home any unjustly detained American, wherever that is in the world.” He thanked the government of Niger, Special Envoy for Hostage Affairs Roger Carstens, and “all of those who have been working at the department” to get Woodke released.

—

Notes:

https://www.politico.com/newsletters/playbook/2023/03/20/scoop-house-gop-targets-manhattan-da-00087811

https://www.nytimes.com/2023/03/20/business/media/fox-news-abby-grossberg.html

Twitter avatar for @letsgomathias

Christopher Mathias

@letsgomathias

So many reporters here I just saw a reporter start interviewing someone but they turned out to be a reporter too

10:10 PM ∙ Mar 20, 2023

1,508Likes236Retweets

https://www.cnn.com/2023/03/20/politics/oath-keepers-proud-boys/index.html

Twitter avatar for @danielsgoldman

Daniel Goldman

@danielsgoldman

Defending Trump is not a legitimate legislative purpose for Congress to investigate a state district attorney.

Congress has no jurisdiction to investigate the Manhattan DA, which receives no federal funding nor has any other federal nexus.

Twitter avatar for @tribelaw

Laurence Tribe @tribelaw

House Republicans are gathered at a luxury resort near Disney World where House Judiciary Chair JIM JORDAN (R-Ohio) & senior GOP leaders are preparing to demand testimony from members of Manhattan DA’s Office amid reports of an imminent Trump indictment.

https://t.co/syVwH4H1Fm

1:49 PM ∙ Mar 20, 2023

11,030Likes3,286Retweets

https://www.cnn.com/2023/03/20/politics/house-republicans-letter-manhattan-district-attorney/index.html

https://www.nbcnews.com/politics/congress/mccarthy-says-americans-not-protest-trump-indicted-rcna75679

Twitter avatar for @RepGlennIvey

Rep. Glenn Ivey

@RepGlennIvey

I was stunned to read this letter that could obstruct a criminal investigation and intimidate an elected state law enforcement official.

The Chairman of @JudiciaryGOP appears to be demanding that @ManhattanDA violate NY grand jury secrecy laws.

Twitter avatar for @Jim_Jordan

Rep. Jim Jordan @Jim_Jordan

Was the Manhattan DA’s office in communication with DOJ about their investigation of President Trump?

Was the Manhattan DA’s office using federal funds to investigate President Trump?

Alvin Bragg owes our committee answers. https://t.co/G6mL4Jfiiq

8:41 PM ∙ Mar 20, 2023

3,800Likes1,427Retweets

Trump’s accusations are on his Truth Social account. I’m not going to link them here.

https://www.politico.com/news/2023/03/20/desantis-wont-involved-trump-indictment-extradition-00087851

https://www.cnn.com/2023/03/20/politics/jeffery-woodke-freed-niger/index.html

https://www.whitehouse.gov/briefing-room/statements-releases/2023/03/20/statement-from-president-joe-biden-on-the-release-of-american-jeff-woodke/

https://www.newsweek.com/former-republican-chair-blasts-trumps-defenders-indictment-looms-1788777

[no0285]

you'd expect her to prefer nights like these. where she was able to wait on one person, be tucked away in a private room, away from prying eyes. but suki preferred to be performing. and while private clients often wanted a dance or two, this client in particular chose for her wait and sit guard, curtesy of their mutual friend.

and without protest, namely because she rather apollo didn't slit her throat, she strolled through nexus back to the private den. her specialized rooms had three levels, and his was of the v.i.p variety. so he got to sit in a beautifully decorated suite, fit for the enchantress princess she was, melting into the mauve velvet cushions. the floral lingerie set was shamelessly covered by a the sheer robe that draped behind her, flowing elegantly as if she too paid it for it's services tonight.

bending down slightly, she balanced the tray of his signature drinks various ingredients, ready for her to prepare for his viewing pleasure. except, santi never actually viewed anything, and half the time she was simply guarding him as he ruminated in his mind or did just as he seemed to be doing, drifting to sleep. her lips parted softly as her eyes flashed, system alerting her to the deposit of credits to her account. her pupils showed her the new balance remaining before disappearing from her field of vision.

"anything for you." she purred with a sweet smile. "and i don't think those clients are as worth it if they don't pay out as much as you do." satsuki lied, stretching herself along the couches arm.

"mhmm," she agreed, "will do."

lightly, she bounced her heeled foot, letting the minutes tick by as she occasionally looked to the door. she was bouncing between staring at herself in the wall of mirrors, drinking and tapping through her phone. rolling her eyes, annoyed, that she had to also go through insidious sleep talking, satsuki repositioned herself to lay along her stomach on the heart shaped bed, body not dwindled to just a silhouette through the sheer pink curtains.

she was about to tune it out when she heard the familiar name on his lips. her chest tightened, bringing a slew of flash backs to her memory. she relived her torture, her own screams echoing in her brain as faux pain shot over her robotic limbs. the mechanism now connected to her brain stem had began to beep, warning her against rising pressure levels in her blood. aside from referring to her she'd hardly heard her father's name, and to hear it from his lips, made her blood run cold. she had half a mind to wake him, spring bullets of question after question at his chest until he bled all over the floor between them, gasping for air as his heart pulsed streams of red liquid over her negligée and skin. but training overrode her emotions, needing to hear more, hoping he'd spit more secrets at their feet.

Closed starter for: @no0285 Location: Nexos Nightclub, Private Booth Time: 1:13 AM NJT

Santi settled into the velvet couch of a private booth at Nexos, the relentless bass thumping through the walls providing the perfect cover for his restless thoughts. This place was a sanctuary of sorts, where the noise allowed him the rare luxury of sleep without the fear of being overheard.

His eyes flicked to Setsuki as she entered; her presence was a requirement of his. He always insisted she be the one to wait on him—not for the service, but because his paranoia demanded it. Suki was discreet, and discretion was everything to him here. “Thanks for covering me again tonight, Suki,” he said, his voice laced with exhaustion but still polite. He then transferred a large sum of credits from his datapad to hers. “There—that should cover any potential clients you lost because of me, with extra. If you need more, just let Apollo know.” He stifled a yawn. “Sorry. I’m going to crash now. Wake me if something happens.”

Santi sank back into the couch, sleep overtaking him quickly. Within minutes, he was muttering in his sleep, the words slipping out in soft, fractured whispers. “...Kenji was getting too reckless... liability... Father said it had to be done...” The club’s noise almost swallowed the words, but the weight of old sins lingered in the air.

Words kept escaping his lips as his brow furrowed and sweat started form on his forehead. It was like he was having a literal fever dream. The memories of his rise to power surfaced in his subconscious, tangled with guilt and justification. The unconscious confession lingered, unnoticed by him as he drifted deeper into sleep. For Santi, it was supposed to just be another night at Nexos—a fleeting escape from the roles he played, unaware of the storm his sleep-talking might stir.

[ynscrazylife]

Loki request (spoilers)

Reader is a variant who got captured by the tva, they're sent to trial and Loki saves them from getting killed bc he still owed them a favour. Morbius gets confused bc those two dangerous variants know each other, turns out they were best friends in their original time line. Now Morbius has to babysit two sarcastic assholes. Double trouble ensures.

Double Trouble | l.l fluff fic

Summary: The request. 

Authors Note: I fully acknowledge and support Loki being genderfluid. In this fic, I will be using he/him pronouns for Loki since those were the pronouns they’ve used for Loki in the show so far, indicating that at the time this fic is set, Loki’s genderfluid identity is of a man. Should those pronouns/identity change, so will the pronouns for my fics. I do not intend to be harmful in any way so if this is harmful to the genderfluid community, PLEASE let me know!

Request to be on a Taglist (or multiple) here! (Taglists are at the end of the fic)

MCU Masterlist #1 | MCU Masterlist #2 | Main Masterlist

PSA: Do NOT copy, steal, translate, plagiarize, republish, etc any of my works on Tumblr or any other platform. Also, do NOT claim any of my works as your own. All of these works are either requests I’ve gotten that people have wanted me to write or original ideas I’ve had for works. If you happen to take inspiration from anything I’ve written and want to write something inspired by that, please a) ask me first and b) IF I say yes, credit me as inspo in your post by tagging me and link whatever work of mine that inspired you. Thanks.

header c @dearcardan on twitter

Yeah, Loki was definitely not taking any of this seriously. At this point, he theorized that the Avengers were laughing their asses off on this elaborate prank they were playing on him, and he decided to just wait it out. It had to stop at some point, right? There was no way that this “TVA” bullshit was actually, in any way, real.

At least . . . He believed that until he saw a familiar face.

Mobius had just saved him from being reset to the original timeline and they were walking out of the courtroom just as the doors opened and two TVA agents were walking another “criminal” in. Loki still wasn't buying this elaborate scheme so he didn’t really pay this new person much attention, until he heard the judge speak. 

“Miss Y/N Y/L/N - am I correct?” 

Loki froze, eyes traveling to the “criminal” passing him. He first thought that Thor had set this part of the prank up, but he knew his brother didn’t really understand how mischief really worked. Plus, Loki could tell Y/N wasn’t an illusion. 

. . . So that meant she was actually here. 

“Hey, wait, can I see this trial?” Loki whispered to Mobius, who glanced back at the judge and raised his eyebrows skeptically at the brunette deity. Loki added, “I just want to see a little more of how this place works, okay?” 

Mobius was sure Loki was onto something and after a couple moments of thought, he agreed. At least this would give him a chance to get to know this troublemaker better, and they both shuffled into seats. 

“You are correct, madame,” Y/N answered mockingly, a big grin on her face as she walked up to the podium. She then looked around in an exaggerated manner. “Well, do I get a lawyer or what?” 

Loki smirked and the judge scoffed. “How do you plead?” The judge asked, dismissing her questions. 

“What ‘crimes’ have I supposedly committed?” 

“You have been accused of creating an alternate timeline that does not fit into the main continuum. You snuck into Odin’s vault using your Asgardian abilities  and when you used the fake Infinity Gauntlet and, in your attempt to enchant the Gauntlet to work like the actual one, you accidentally travelled forward in time and created a new timeline,” the judge summarized. 

Loki smiled, amused and proud. He only wondered what led her to this. 

“In my defense, I heard that my friend was in trouble and wanted to help out,” Y/N said with a shrug. 

“Well, the enchantments were not supposed fully work. They were meant to just backfire on you and knock you unconscious, where you’d be imprisoned in the dungeon. But then you tried to use another powerful object in Odin’s vault which created a Nexus event, messed with your enchantment on the fake Power and Time stone, and here you are,” the judge explained.

“If I wasn’t meant to do this - why didn’t these ‘Time Keepers’ control my actions and make me do something else?” Y/N asked, changing the subject.

“I am not going to entertain you any further. In your previous statement, quote: ‘In my defense, I heard that my friend was in trouble and wanted to help out’ You have admitted your guilt and will now be reset,” the judge declared sternly.

Immediately, two TVA agents grabbed Y/N harshly and began to drag her away from the podium. Loki, who at this point had connected the dots that he was the friend she had been trying to help, knew he owed her one. He couldn’t just let her be reset and then be imprisoned. So, thinking rather quickly, he leapt up from his seat and shouted, “No!”

All heads turned to him. Y/N’s eyes went wide, not having spotted him, and Mobius was beginning to regret his decision. Loki turned to Mobius. “You need me to help you with this ‘sacred timeline’ stuff. I’ll only do it if Y/N stays,” he said, panting.

Mobius caught an angry look from the judge but his gaze settled on Y/N. After a couple moments, he sighed and relented. “Fine.”

Y/N and Loki cheered and she broke out of the agents’ grips, running to Loki who picked her up and hugged her. “That’s my girl,” Loki said, proud of her for her prank.

Mobius internally groaned. This was going to be a long day.

———————————

“So how do you know each other?” Mobius asked as he walked in-between the Asgardians, leading them to his office.

“Y/N’s been my best friend, partner in time, ever since I was little,” Loki said, grinning.

“Got it,” Mobius said, frowning. He could only imagine the mischief they had conjured.

———————————

After reviewing both of their files, Mobius had to step out for a second, leaving Loki and Y/N alone. “Let’s try to break out,” was the first thing to leave Loki’s lips.

Y/N rolled her eyes. “And suppose we do, how the hell are you gonna get the Tesseract back? Plus, I won’t wanna be imprisoned on Asgard,” she reasoned, quickly shutting the idea down.

Loki huffed. He was bored. He wanted to do something.

And he had something to do when Y/N stood up and started walking around. With a smirk, he grabbed the remote controlling Y/N’s collar and clicked it, immediately sending her back to her seat.

She turned and glared at him, and he just smirked, innocently shrugging. “I wanna have fun,” he said.

Y/N rolled her eyes and cautiously stood up again. When nothing happened, she walked around a bit more, and Loki let her . . . Until he got bored again. With another click, she reappeared on the other side of the room, in mid-walk.

Before she could protest, Loki did it again. And again. And again. He finally stopped when she got out the words, “CUT IT OUT!” and laughed to himself.

“You asshole,” Y/N grunted, beginning to walk towards him, but skidded back when Loki clicked the button just one more time.

“Oops. My finger slipped,” Loki smirked.

Y/N glared, but being reset made her lose her footing, and she tumbled to the floor, causing her best friend to cackle. Annoyed, she ran at him and managed to push him off his chair, tackling him to the floor. They rolled around, neither one gaining the upper hand for too long, until Mobius re-entered, saw the chaos, pulled Loki to his feet, and grabbed the remote, resetting Y/N so she was back in her chair.

“Hey!” Loki exclaimed, pushing Mobius off him. “No one controls my best friend!”

Y/N couldn’t tell if he was being serious or not, but smiled nonetheless. Mobius glared and grabbed Loki’s remote, resetting him so he was back in his chair. He then turned to them both.

“I’m beginning to agree with my colleagues that this-” he gestured to Loki and Y/N, “-was a bad idea.”

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[aegagrusscholarship]

people don’t have to sound like their personalities lol

okay, no, let me be less farcial. also because that opening sentence isn’t quite correct.

alright. yes, people’s voices do reflect their personalities via tone of voice and in world choice, yeah. but also “logical” isn’t a personality, it’s a trait. and being logical does not always mean you are stoic and calculating. so this isn’t quite right about sanford’s personality in the first place.

so. first off: people, in terms of personality, can be (and are often) contradictory.

sanford can be logical and smart and also the only one of the dissenters with an actual braincell (yes. i know doc exists. no, i did not speak wrong) while not sounding… calm and collected, i guess. because sanford isn’t. he straight up isn’t. he can be loud and boisterous and taunt people in the middle of a fight while still, you know, being the brains of the (on-field) operations.

secondly: no, sanford is not “supposed to be the stoic logical one of the gang”. yes, his most defining moment of characterization is during deimos’s engineer prank, yes, he’s fed up with his partner, yes, he’s more serious compared to deimos, all that. the key words here are “compared to deimos”. because dei is, to put it bluntly, a walking shitpost. anyone would look serious next to him.

however, sanford has many more moments of characterization. the scene where he steals one agent’s shot glass in the middle of a fight, for one, because hey! deimos isn’t the only one who can find a moment to slack off on the job. sure, dei does it a lot more often. but sanford is just as capable— and willing, too.

what about the shopping spree sanford and deimos go on? oh, but the biggest moment for sanford is when he’s handed that “i covered wars, you know” shirt and is highly unamused about it, isn’t it? yes and no. yes, he’s sure unamused about the shirt, but he puts it on (for however short a while it may be) nonetheless. and then promptly uses deimos’s distraction to throw it into a corner. if he really didn’t think it was fun, he’d simply have refused, and that would be that.

the rest of the scene, too! the part where he gets his glasses— deimos holds up a mirror, and sanford decides to take a good, long look and go “damn, that’s nice”. or something along those lines. not like we can hear dialogue in the episodes, after all, but hey! that’s the part where he gets his iconic lip, so the inferral can be made. if sanford were more stoic, he could easily… not have done that.

also, he seems perfectly fine taking a minutes-long shopping break in the middle of a mission. seriously. no protest at all, just romps right in there alongside his partner and decides to get a new outfit.

hell, shopping aside, he goes into that locker and steals a pair of pants (er, his pair of pants now), doesn’t he? absolutely no reason for him to do so, but he decides to do so anyway.

my main point about all these scenes is… sanford is 100% capable of being silly. he enjoys doing such things, too— otherwise he wouldn’t even bother. he’s just overshadowed by deimos in that department.

those are just scenes from the main series. he also shows this in his dialogue from project nexus as well. i mean, everyone knows the hot dog conversation— yes, deimos is a whole lot more exuberant about it, but sanford’s going right along with it. yes, he’s being a bit more logical about it! he’s breaking down the arguments and pointing out the inherent silliness in the debate. but he’s still going along with it. he’s not trying to shut the conversation down. he’s having fun with it in his own way.

but he’s still being much more calm! and yes, that’s true. you have to be aware, though, that the majority of his voicelines are meant to be quips in the heat of battle. of course he’d be more boisterous during then.

something to note, throughout all these examples, is that sanford tends to take smaller moments of levity. he tends to keep his focus on the mission, only doing something stupid if he knows he 100% can afford to take the moment.

and, well… talking is a free action! well, taunting your enemies is. being a bit overdramatic is, too. sanford knows he can take this opportunity, so… i’m pretty sure that’s why his voice lines are like that. he’s fighting, he’s mowing down the enemies (or gettin’ kicked himself), he sure can afford a couple of quips.

so i don’t think johnny utah’s portrayal of sanford is inaccurate, nor do i think he became a himbo due to that. he can be loud and boisterous while still having a good head on his shoulders.

can we as a community agree that dushaun thompson is the one true sanford and that johnnyutah is a hack fraud