#on the flip side you have people who only call out his flaws and are extremely hateful toward him and even blame him for his abuse

[cosmics-beings]

being a starscream fan is always difficult because you have to navigate interacting with people who completely pacify him and excuse all his actions and paint him as a innocent person who can't be held accountable for the shit he does. and going as far as saying you excuse abuse if you try to hold him accountable for how he treats others. nevermind the fact that u yourself are an abuse victim and you wanna look at him multifaceted and you know, not excuse his abusive actions toward others.

but at the same time, you also have to navigate people who absolutely HATE him, and will act like they don't and claim they just see him critically, when most of their content is bashing him for his abuse, excusing it, saying he's an awful person and getting mad at people for seeing him as a victim or wanting him to have better. literally saying he deserves what happens to him. ike a lot of people will flat out slander him, while uplifting characters who are worse than him, will say that starscream doesn't deserve redemption, or saying that anyone who wants better for him is excusing him or worse, going out of their way just to be extremely unfair and critical to him.

it's difficult because i love starscream and i do see him critically. but it's hard being around people who will just pacify his actions, and then try to go to someone so you can have indepth convos about him only to realize that 'oh, this person actually hates starscream, they haven't said anything remotely positive about him'.

[mya-valentine]

Debating Hearts

Synopsis: As fierce academic rivals, you and Alhaitham constantly clash in heated debates. But behind closed doors, you're secretly in a relationship—until Kaveh walks in on a passionate moment. Chaos ensues as you desperately try to maintain your academic reputation.

A/N: This is probably my favorite thing ever

The bustling streets of Sumeru City were awash in the midday sun, casting a warm, golden glow on the myriad of scholars rushing through the Akademiya. Among them, two students stood out—Alhaitham and you. Both of you were notorious for your sharp minds, and even sharper tongues. Every debate, every discussion, every single word exchanged between you two seemed to spark an inevitable fire.

Today was no different.

“You’re oversimplifying the mechanics of elemental resonance,” Alhaitham said, crossing his arms, his gray-green eyes locked onto yours with that familiar condescending edge. “If you’d actually read the primary texts instead of cherry-picking from the summaries, you’d see how flawed your logic is.”

You bristled. “Summaries exist for a reason, Alhaitham. It’s called efficiency. Not everyone has the luxury of pouring over every single word like you do.”

“Only a fool would call it efficiency when it leads to inaccuracies,” he shot back, his voice calm but with that hint of smug superiority that drove you absolutely insane.

Oh, how you hated him. Or at least that’s what you told yourself. Because underneath all that animosity, there was something else. Something no one else knew. Something that would flip Sumeru on its head if anyone found out.

You were dating Alhaitham.

Not that anyone would suspect it. The public bickering, the endless arguments, the way you seemed to enjoy tearing into each other intellectually—it all painted the picture of two people who couldn’t stand one another. But behind closed doors? That was a different story.

---

You made your way toward his house after the latest Akademiya debate, a fire still simmering in your chest. The thrill of clashing with him always left you a little exhilarated, your heartbeat still thundering as you knocked on the door. Alhaitham opened it with a smirk already tugging at his lips, as if he knew you were still riding the high of your argument.

“You’re still wrong about the elemental resonance theory,” he said before you could even step inside.

You rolled your eyes but let him pull you in by the wrist, shutting the door behind you. “You just can’t handle being wrong for once.”

“Incorrect,” he replied smoothly, guiding you over to the couch in the middle of the room. “I just can’t handle you spreading misinformation.”

You were about to retort, but then his hands were on your waist, tugging you closer, and all those brilliant counterarguments you’d been preparing slipped away as he leaned down to press his lips against yours.

It was always like this. The fire that sparked in your arguments burned just as brightly when you kissed. There was a fierce intensity in everything you two did—whether it was trading intellectual blows or tangled together on that couch, fingers gripping at each other like you couldn’t get close enough.

Your hands found their way into his hair as the kiss deepened, the heat between you escalating quickly. He pushed you back against the cushions, his lips never leaving yours, even as he spoke between kisses.

“You—still—didn’t—prove—me wrong,” he muttered, voice husky as he kissed down your neck.

You smirked, tilting your head back to give him better access. “Maybe if you weren’t so busy kissing me, you’d have a chance to think.”

He laughed against your skin, his hands roaming your sides before pulling you back up to meet his mouth again. The clash of teeth and lips was electric, the debate still sparking even amidst the haze of passion.

But then, the door swung open.

Kaveh, returning home earlier than either of you expected, burst in, humming some tune to himself. He stopped dead in his tracks, eyes wide as saucers as he took in the sight before him—Alhaitham, shirt slightly rumpled, lips locked with you as you straddled him on the couch, both of you far too engrossed in your little "debate" to notice his entrance right away.

“What the—by the Archons!” Kaveh’s voice was a mixture of horror and disbelief. “What in Sumeru is going on here?!”

The sound of his voice snapped you out of your heated moment, and you instantly shoved Alhaitham away. Your heart leaped into your throat as panic surged through you. If anyone found out about this… your academic reputation, the teasing, the scandal!

Without thinking, you slapped Alhaitham hard across the face.

The sound echoed in the room, followed by a tense silence.

“What the hell are you doing, Alhaitham?!” you shouted, pointing an accusatory finger at him as if this entire situation was somehow his fault. “I thought we were having an academic discussion, not… whatever that was!”

Alhaitham blinked at you, his hand slowly rising to touch the reddening mark on his cheek, bewilderment written all over his usually composed face. “What? You—”

Kaveh, for his part, was standing frozen near the doorway, eyes darting between you and Alhaitham like he was trying to make sense of the bizarre situation unraveling in front of him.

“Oh no, don’t you dare make this about me!” You continued, crossing your arms and glaring at Alhaitham as if he had been the one caught in the act. “I’m just here to have a reasonable debate, and you—”

Alhaitham opened his mouth to respond, looking genuinely confused for once in his life. “You slapped me!”

“Damn right, I did!” you shot back, cheeks burning with both embarrassment and anger. “What was all of that? Trying to kiss me in the middle of an academic debate?!”

Kaveh, still watching this bizarre scene, finally found his voice again. “What in the name of Sumeru is happening?! You two—what—how—WHY?”

You turned to Kaveh, feigning as much indignation as you could muster. “He ambushed me, Kaveh! I was here to debate, and suddenly—ugh!” You huffed dramatically, throwing your hands in the air.

Alhaitham stared at you, utterly bewildered. “We’ve been dating for months—”

You quickly cut him off, stepping on his foot. “What? You’re delusional! Don’t try to make up excuses now!”

Kaveh’s eyes grew impossibly wider as the pieces slowly clicked into place. “Wait… you two have been dating?”

“NO!” You and Alhaitham said in unison, though for very different reasons.

Kaveh blinked, clearly caught between shock, disbelief, and a building sense of dread. “Oh Archons, I need to lie down,” he muttered, backing away from the chaotic scene in front of him. “I… I’m going to pretend I didn’t see any of this.”

As Kaveh disappeared down the hallway, muttering under his breath, you turned back to Alhaitham, who was still rubbing his cheek where you had slapped him.

“You’re going to explain that later,” he said flatly, his tone exasperated but not entirely angry. There was still that glint in his eye—the one that always appeared when he was both annoyed and slightly amused by you.

You huffed, crossing your arms. “I had to save face, okay?”

“By slapping me?”

“Yes.”

Alhaitham shook his head, a soft sigh escaping his lips as he pulled you back down onto the couch. “You owe me for that one.”

You rolled your eyes, but the corners of your lips tugged upward. “I’ll make it up to you,” you murmured, leaning in to kiss him again, the earlier embarrassment fading as you resumed your little “debate.”

For now, Kaveh’s horror was just another amusing chapter in your strange, secret relationship.

.

.

.

Masterlist

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

Stuck Between a Jock and a Metalhead

Summary: Nancy, on a whim, decides to visit Steve at Scoops Ahoy, which leads to her overhearing confessions from Steve that leads her to think about the decisions she's made. A few days later, she decides to come back. She finds him being hit on by the town freak. What's a girl to do? Oh, get stuck in a freezer with the both of them.

A/N: Oops, I made this chapter a little angsty. I do love Nancy now, flaws and all. Oh, the title is a play on for stuck between a rock and a hard place. Thought it was funny.

Chapter One

Nancy Wheeler was confident in her decisions, to say the least. She never really doubted when she was in the right. It was a constant struggle, though, to look at someone's else's side of things. It was why she loved looking at the facts, put plain and simply before her. The facts are that she was interning at the local newspaper and that the news reporters seemed to hate women or look down on them at least. They surely didn't respect them.

"I mean, like what year are we in now? There are tons of female news reporters. Get ahead of the times!" Nancy complained.

"Well, there's a reason why people call this town so conservative. Will this town ever be willing to change?" Steve asked, shaking an invisible magic eight ball. "Sources say: unlikely. I mean, now, they really won't be subject to change with the way this mall moved in and took away their businesses."

"The same mall you work at?" Nancy asked in amusement. "By the way, what the hell are you wearing?"

"I can't believe you're just now noticing. This is my uniform," Steve said and flipped the hat back onto his head.

Nancy had stopped by Scoops Ahoy after coming into the mall to try to find Holly a birthday gift. She had spotted Steve behind the counter and had to stop in. Now, here they were, in the back room conversing like old friends. Steve stood up from the table and slowly twirled around before striking a pose. His back was to her, and he peered over his shoulder, his hand over his mouth as though he was shocked. His rear end was sticking out. He looked like he got caught doing something he shouldn't. Nancy burst into a fit of giggles.

"You're an idiot, Steve Harrington," Nancy said softly.

"And you're - uh - anyway, yes, this is my uniform. It's completely fucking embarrassing but not as embarrassing as being too stupid to get into anywhere," Steve said.

"Despite what I said before, you're not stupid. Although, you can be an idiot at times. It's not who you are, and if your dad ever makes you feel like that, then just send him my way. I'll kick his ass," Nancy said.

"You're the only person in the world I believe could actually take that asshole," Steve said.

"Thanks. I should probably go. I told mom I would be home soon," Nancy said, getting up.

"One thing first, and I'm not sure it was my place to say, but this job of yours. . .you're not getting paid, your skills aren't being put to good use, you have to ask what else am I getting out of this? What else am I learning?" Steve asked.

"Well, I'm learning what not to do," she said, and he laughed.

"You know, it's okay to give up something that's not working for you, and it's okay to fight for it. Whatever decision that works best for you, Nancy, it's okay," Steve said.

"Stop saying okay. I hate that word," Nancy said softly.

It made her stomach turn the way he said it softly, reminding her of the way he said it that night he told her to go with Jonathan. A small portion of guilt nestled in her stomach. She shook it away and smiled.

"It was good to see you again, Steve," Nancy said. "We should talk again soon."

"Definitely," Steve grinned. "Did I help at all?"

"Yeah, actually, you did," Nancy said.

As she walked out of the break room, she passed Steve’s co-worker Robin. She gave Nancy the stink eye. She wondered if it was because she thought there was something between her and Steve. Was Robin jealous of her? Did she want to date Steve? Or was she dating Steve? God, Nancy hoped not. She blushed, realizing that she had no right to be jealous of someone she didn't have any interest in anymore. . .or did she? Nancy walked briskly away, moving out of the parlor and towards the exit as quickly as possible. Halfway towards the exit, Nancy realized that she had left her purse. When she walked back in, there was a closed for lunch sign out front. She went in and headed towards the break room. She paused by the door when she heard her name.

"You're friends with your ex?" Robin asked. "That's a little. . . Unusual."

"I take what I can get," Steve said.

"What does that mean?" She asked and paused. "What? Are you still in love with her?"

Nancy sucked in a breath and waited hopefully for the right answer.

"I mean, I don't know. I guess so. How does one fully stop loving Nancy Wheeler?" Steve asked. "I just want her to be happy. If Jonathan makes her happy, then I'm happy, too."

"It doesn't kill you inside every time you hang out to see her with another guy?" Robin asked.

"Well, this is the first time we hung out in a while. After it all. . .ended, Nancy invited me to have lunch with her Jonathan, but I couldn't. . .it was too painful. I spent lunch in my car blasting Careless Whisper and crying. I got my heart broken, and I didn't have any friends. I mean, the friends I had I walked away from. They were assholes, yes, but I knew Tommy all of my life, and he wasn't always like that. My parents were never home, still aren't, and I just had no one. The kids I started to babysit helped a lot, but considering they were kids and one of them was Nancy's brother, I couldn't exactly talk to them about this," Steve said. "Before we broke up, I tried everything to befriend Jonathan because I knew how much he meant to Nancy. I guess I just didn't want to admit how much."

Nancy pressed her hand to her mouth, tears filling her eyes as she tried to muffle her sobs. She didn't know anything about all of that or the fact that Steve tried to make friends with Jonathan.

"You didn't want to lose her. The fact that you tried to befriend him says a lot about you," Robin said. "I wouldn't have been able to do that."

"I can't hate her for making the choice that she did. I was never enough to be it for her, but I respect her choice even if I don't like it. I can't force her - " Steve choked up. "I can't force her to love me."

"So pathetic," Robin said softly with a hint of affection and Steve laughed.

"Definitely pathetic," Steve said and paused. "I miss her so much that it's stupid. I just wish that I could move on. I think I'm trying too hard. I guess I can't force that either."

"I think I can help with that," Robin said in a mischievous voice. "It requires me taking over the whiteboard, though. What are your preferences?"

"Men, women," Steve said.

"I meant like how do you want me to tease you mercilessly while I do this, but that is. . . That is good to know," Robin said. "Um, right, thanks for telling me."

Crying softly, Nancy quietly and quickly walked away. She'd get her purse some other time. She ran all the way to the bathroom and locked herself in a stall. What he had said then was something she always suspected about Steve, but she never asked, never wanted to be pushy about that part of his life in case he wasn't aware, but turns out, he was. It was all the other stuff that was overwhelming her. She couldn't stop picturing Steve alone in his car, crying. She had so wanted to believe that he had been fine, that he wouldn't be affected by what happened. Or maybe she just hoped that he wouldn't care because it was easier to escape the fact that she fucked up. She didn't intend to hurt Steve, but she did it anyway, and maybe there was another reason why she didn't want to think about how he felt or that moment at the school. She didn't want to think about him walking away from her after begging her to tell him that she loved him. She didn't want to think about him telling her it was okay or hearing him call himself a shitty boyfriend. It was easier to ignore all of that than to admit that she didn't feel like she deserved him.

Jonathan doesn't deserve for her to think that way either because her relationship with him means something, doesn't it? Everything happened so quickly. Maybe that was why she wanted it to happen so fast. Why she had acted the way she did with her feelings for Jonathan? She wanted to destroy her relationship with Steve, to make him hate her the way she hated herself, and she wanted him to feel guilty the way that she did with Barb. She was so mad at her before she died. Why couldn't Barb have understood that it was her choice to have sex with Steve? That the moment he talked to her, it was decided, and the very moment his lips touched hers. She bought a new bra, bought a new sweater, and she even lied to her mom about why she needed birth control.

"This isn't you, Nance," Barb had said.

"Why couldn't you have just gone home?" Nancy whispered to the empty bathroom.

The real person she wanted to be angry with was Barb, and how grotesque was that? How could she be angry at Barb for being in the wrong place at the wrong time? No, because if Barb had gone home and just let her make her choice, then Barb would still be alive. Nancy's stomach rolled. That's what Steve represented, not his guilt because he did nothing, but her own for being so angry with Barb before she died and for being angry after. The real person to be angry with, she knew, was Dr. Brenner. He was the man who started all of this, who led Barbara to her death. If she could bring him back and kill him again, she'd kill him a thousand times. She couldn't go down that road again. She knew the risks she took when she sought justice for Barb. She risked the whole damn town to do it. She wasn't sure she could put something like on Steve again because she still loved him, and he deserved better than that. Nancy wiped her face and came out of the bathroom to find Robin leaning against the wall. She was holding her purse.

"You left this. I saw you run in here. Damn, you're fast," Robin said and handed her the purse.

"Thanks," Nancy said, taking the purse and Robin narrowed her eyes at her.

"You came back for the purse. You heard us," Robin said, and Nancy didn't say anything. "You still love him."

"He deserves better," Nancy said.

"Doesn't he also deserve to make that choice for himself?" Robin asked.

"I - why do you care so much?" Nancy asked.

"I'm a firm believer in second chances. Without them, I wouldn't be here. My mother thought she'd never see my father again or to tell how she felt, but the chance came around again, so . . . Here I am," Robin said, raising her hands up in a shrug. "Gotta believe that there's hope for everyone."

Nancy stared at her for a moment, trying to figure her out. She washed her hands and dried them off.

"Don't tell Steve about this," Nancy said softly.

"Tell him what?" Robin shrugged and left the bathroom.

When Nancy walked into the house, Holly was playing barber shop with Mike's hair while he screeched that she was pulling his hair on purpose. Judging by the mischievous look on Holly's face, she was. Nancy smiled and shook her head before walking into the kitchen where her mother was making lunch.

"Hey, Nance. Did you find what you were looking for at the mall?" Karen asked.

"I think so," Nancy said softly as she stared at her mother.

She realized then where the choice she made with Jonathan was leading her. It was the path that she thought Steve would lead her down to: an unhappy marriage. She still liked Jonathan right now, and she wanted to continue to like him. Not that her mom didn't love her dad. It's just that she didn't like him very much. She wanted a partner that she not only liked but loved as well.

"We like Steve, but we don't love Steve," Murrary had taunted.

Nancy blushed furiously. He had been wrong. She should have said something then, defended Steve then because it was true. She liked Steve, and she loved him too. As much as she cared for Jonathan, as much as she liked him, she didn't love him the way that she loved Steve. The more she thought about Steve, the more she started to remember everything that she loved about their relationship. She remembered nights when they would curl up and watch Tom Cruise movies. They would both gush and giggle over him. Thinking about it now, he definitely had a crush on him like she did. She remembered watching him bake, and when a Bob Seger song came on, he would pull her in his arms to dance. He wasn't afraid to let her lead either. It wasn't just Bob Seger. It was Queen, Bowie, and Madonna. Occasionally, it was stuff like Eddie Van Halen, too. She loved the fact that he didn't just have a particular genre that he loved. He appreciated all sorts. And when she had to babysit Holly, he would come over to help, and he was always so good with her. He was good with both Holly and Mike. She loved the way that he wasn't afraid to be an absolute dork. Her dad was a quiet man, but he always some managed to pull a conversation out of Ted, and he loved to help her mother in the kitchen. She remembered all if without the cloud of guilt weighing her down.

"Nancy, honey, are you okay?" Karen asked.

"I messed everything up," Nancy burst into tears.

Chapter Two

[wayfayrr]

Toucan play at this game

Part two of Birds without feather flock together!!! this is a direct continuation of the previous fic and it was also commissioned by @lost4pandora <3 this time there's more fluff and just overall softness

[masterlist]

“Pressing in what way? Because I know Wild wouldn’t have been so upset with simple ‘questioning’.”

“I- you remember what you did for me during the war? The um-”

“So you’ve been pushing him about getting prosthetic wings.”

Makes sense why wars has been looking guilty now, if it wasn’t for the fact that they knew it was possible from me helping to repair his back in the war, then they wouldn’t be able to push it so hard. It’s not exactly his fault as long as he wasn’t one of the few that’ve been pressuring him. 

“Well, the others have. I backed off after the first time it was talked about because I respect Wild’s decision. Wars however…”

“It - I, I wanted to drop it but the others, well they wouldn’t exactly let me. I-”

“He w’s their shin’n example.”

“Wild’s right, as much as I wanted to let the topic just drop…”

“Wars struggles to tell the others no sometimes.” Not like I needed to be told that, after how much time I’ve spent around him it’s pretty clear he has a hard time saying no to anyone really. Every time I asked him the smallest favour he always did it without question, often times above what I asked for too. His will to please is often his fatal flaw. He still could have stood up more though seeing how much it affected Wild, they were doing it out of concern, no need to flip out at them yet. 

“I am aware. He’s shown that off time and time again.”

“Huh? but it’s only to people he’- don’t shove me like that!?”

“I know. I know trust me. It’s something I’m working on.” What was Sky going to say if wars hadn’t interrupted him there? Does it really matter though, what this is supposed to be is learning why this pressing has been so bad for Wild and how to get the rest to drop it. Although the time away from the group seems to be doing him good, his familiar weight pressing into my side as he’s making himself comfortable leaning on me. 

“That doesn’t change the fact that you’ve been upsetting him though, does it?”

“Well no it-”

“Yeah it doesn’t, does it.”

They’re both fumbling a little bit now, Wars a considerable amount more than Sky, who’s admittedly keeping a fair amount of this new colder unbothered demeanour of his about him. It’s both oddly comforting and at the same time chilling, without Wild here to help keep the warm in my bones I might have frozen to the touch. I can’t say I wouldn’t want to see more of it. 

“So I take it that one of you is going to tell Time and the others to start laying off of him before I take matters into my own hands. Wars preferably? Seeing as you’re the one who’s pretty much the cause of this.”

“Wars should certainly be the one to do it.” 

The growl in Sky’s voice was completely new, even to someone who’s been travelling with him for longer; Isn’t a growl usually a sign of a bird being aggressive? Is he getting aggressive for our sake… why does my face feel so warm all of a sudden; and are Wild’s tail feathers poofing up? Huh… Maybe there’s something else to question if we get any privacy from wars later, although… It’s probably better for Wild and I to discuss things first, so that neither of us get hurt. 

“I- well, I- yes. I do need to take some responsibility for my part in this after all, don’t I?”

“It’d be the first step to earning both Wild and I’s trust in you back, if you want to do that anyway.”

“Huh - What of course I want to- why wouldn’t I?”

“Why wouldn’t you? Because you’ve shown that you put the pressure of the chain as more valuable than their feelings you fool.”

Wars looked worse than if he were slapped across the face at that; it’s nice not having to be the one to call him out on it either, because Hylia above I know I would have been worse than Sky was. I care for Wars, of course I do, but the fact that he simply went along with this when he saw how much it was affecting my sweet little bird? I would have made him regret it. Which he knows.He’s got the decency to look ashamed though. Standing with his wings drawn close to him, looking smaller than Sky for once even; although with how much he’s puffed out it’s not that hard to look smaller than him. 

“Guys.”

With the speed at which both of them turned their heads, I’m surprised that neither of them got whiplash or worse. The silence was more deafening than it should have been too; the whole forest around us seemingly dropping dead.

“I think it’s for the best that Wars goes back now so that we can avoid most of the fallout.”

“They’ll just question you later instead.”

“Yes, but we won’t be there for the Immediate backlash.”

“You’ll only be putting it off though.”

“You should go back now and tell them we’ll stay here for the night.”

It’s good that Wild feels comfortable enough to be speaking again now, and well I can’t say that having him be so assertive isn’t nice either. He’s still just as cuddly though so nothing was lost, except for maybe a little bit more of the captain's self-esteem as his wings droop even lower.

“Sky and I can go back to the main camp then. Throw ourselves to the wolves for you.”

You can hear the nerves in his voice now; letting out a quiet warble with frantic glances in sky’s direction. Why is he so worried about going back alone? 

“‘d prefer if Sky stayed here.”

“Oh?”

That was the biggest possible stroke to Sky’s ego that he could have given the man, made immediately clear by how much he puffed himself up and started getting flustered. Even going so far as to let out the softest little trill, competing with Wild for the cutest bird. Wait what am I thinking - why am I even - I don’t - I don’t see sky in that way. Do I?

“Mhm, I wanna be with the people I trust r’ght now.”

“And I’m one of those people!?”

“... you don’t trust me?”

“No… not at the minute.”

That seemed to be the nail in the coffin of the captain’s ego, leaving it shattered on the floor now; now he’s just looking between me and Sky for something is it pity he wants? Whereas Sky walked over with the biggest grin on his face, like the cat that got the cream. Since when did he get so damn pretty? 

“Can - Will I be able to earn it back?”

“In time, if you prove you really want to. But not now.” 

“That - yeah I can live with that. I’ll prove it to you that I will- that I can.”

And with one final teary-eyed glance between us, he turned and left. Leaving the three of us alone. I can’t say that I’m surprised that Wild trusts Sky but to want him here after the argument, well that is surprising. I can talk to him about it later though, maybe we could get him to collect some firewood while we collect our thoughts. 

“So what are we doing now? I guess I’m staying up here for the night. Unless you two would prefer some privacy in a bit?” 

“I - I’d like you to stay, please. Just, could you possibly give us a little bit of time, a few minutes even?”

“Yeah, some time to process everything would be lovely.”

“That works well, I’ll just go fly around for a bit and don’t worry I won’t listen in on you.”

Now it’s just Wild and I sitting alone on the plateau like we were back at the start of our journey again. 

Waiting till Sky was high enough to the point where we wouldn’t have to be worried about hearing anything as he circled the area lazily before going to perch somewhere. Leaving us to discuss everything. Well after sitting down and getting as comfortable as we both could, which meant sitting with Wild snuggled up against me.

“So them pressing you is why you’ve been so stressed recently? Why didn’t you come to talk to me about it my lil fluffball?”

“Didn’t want you overreacting.”

That- that’s fair, I can see why he thought I could have done that. 

“But I wouldn’t have done anything that you wouldn’t have wanted me too.”

“Mhm, I know ‘s just worried about it.”

“Okay that’s understandable love, but please don’t hesitate to tell me if it ever happens again. I don’t want you dealing with it alone.”

“I won’t, I promise. Besides I’ve got sky, wolfie and you now.”

“Oh? Sky’s made it into that list fast hasn’t he?”

“He’s a good friend to me, and I know there’s something going on between the two of you too.”

What? What does he mean by that? 

“I’m not blind my beloved, you look at him the same way you looked at me before we were together.”

I could feel my face lighting up now. Between everything he’s saying and the fact that he’s pressing kiss after kiss on my neck. My sly little bird trying to stop me from really being able to focus. Just because he doesn’t want to talk about his own issues. If he thinks I’ll drop it over him trying this he’s dead wrong.

“No, no there isn’t anything there link. And anyway we’re supposed to be talking about you here.”

“I’m not bothered, you know. I think sharing you with him would be nice.”

“Link I’m trying to talk about you being upset, not about whatever you’re imagining right now. Please stop trying to change the topic.”

“He looks at you the same way too, wouldn’t you at least want to try?”

[goingbuggy]

thank you, you’re the best. I will keep it short.

I wrote this to someone because I disagree with shuggy being great story in canon. But I thought longer and it turned out into more thoughts. First I do enjoy shuggy. I like them more as brothers and I like crocbug more. But I do like shuggy art sometimes.

Most of the story of shuggy is buggy being constantly angry at shanks. Every scene is just him being bitter, while shanks is chill. He’s angry because he’s not like shanks and blames himself for it. But shanks can’t help with that. It’s not abusive but you know how some DC fan are saying how joker is not harley LI but her origin story? I think it’s shuggy. Shanks is buggy begging. The have this bond but it’s over and not useful. What is left is buggy obsession which has to end. It’s without shanks reaction.

And both of those characters have more interesting and impactful relationships with other characters around them. Mostly shanks. He has people around him that are not jealous of him and are EQUAL. And buggy been replaced I think on purpose. Benn Beckman is there to be this close support that buggy could never be. Mihawk is rival, like buggy was in younger years but he’s meaningful to challenge shanks with respect and push him forward. Both of them make shanks better and fill those roles buggy couldn’t.

Buggy is just starting his bonds. He now has cross guild. And we know they’re gonna be for buggy in the future.

What do you think? I read OP many times and I think it does make sense and that is how the story will go. But you can call me out if you disagree. I respect you.

Woah, this is a long one! I just want to say, firstly, that you are entitled to your interpretations of Shanks and Buggy's relationship. However, I think you are going about this in a strange way. A bond is not measured by its usefulness, and claiming that Buggy has been "replaced" shows that you are viewing their dynamic from a distanced, almost utilitarian perspective; this isn't wrong, per se, but you are talking about characters who are meant to be people. And most people are irrational, emotional creatures who don't view their friendships as something profitable or disadvantageous. Buggy cannot be replaced by anyone, because Buggy is not a role to be filled in Shanks' life. Buggy was always just Buggy to Shanks. They were not friends because they only saw each other as useful. I think their interactions during the Wano flashback show that pretty clearly.

To address your point about Shanks and Buggy not being equals, though, I think this is a topic Oda has intentionally laid out, as it directly relates to Buggy's narrative. Buggy is someone who yearns to be seen as an equal -- just look at his reaction in Marineford when Whitebeard addresses him. (The blush is so cute, lmao.)

Buggy's insecurities are also the reason I believe he chose not to follow Shanks; my post here elaborates, but to sum it up neatly, Buggy immediately assumed he'd be working "under" Shanks, when Shanks only asked for Buggy to stay by his side. I truly think Shanks has always viewed Buggy as his equal -- it's just a matter of Buggy realizing that.

At this point in the story, they are more balanced than ever: both emperors with massive influence, albeit in different ways. As Buggy says himself, they are "on equal footing again." So, when you say their relationship has been unequal in parts, I don't disagree -- but that's not a flaw. That's intentional. It's an explicit aspect of the way their dynamic is written. It's a major source of their miscommunication.

Cross Guild is also currently a relationship in Buggy's life, but we don't exactly know where it's going. I would absolutely love it if Mihawk and Crocodile began to believe in Buggy and support him -- mostly because it would be hilarious -- but as of now, it is nowhere near a genuine bond. It is strictly business, and ironically, deeply unequal in terms of power dynamics. Buggy has only flipped the script on them recently, starting in chapter 1082, so we have to wait and see how that progresses.

At the end of the day, it's your opinion -- you can view Buggy's relationship with Shanks as uninteresting, and that's totally fine! But the lens with which you view their dynamic could use some adjusting. Your complaints stem from personal tastes, not fundamental problems with Shanks and Buggy's narrative.

[tcwmatchmakingau]

Everybody Hates Neyo Round 2: Matchmaking Boogaloo

A/N: This is a standalone sequel to “Everybody Hates Neyo,” (NSFW) by @dystopicjumpsuit​ (that’s me), and “The Blacklist,” by the brilliant @blueink-bluesoul​, who also generously let me borrow the character of Daria Trace (THANK YOU!). You don’t need to read those fics to understand this one, but you should because they’re great and they provide more background. I converted the Reader-insert into an OC because to be frank, she’s a piece of work, and I didn’t want to project that onto my readers. That said, as always, feel free to insert yourself into the story if you prefer; I haven’t described the OC beyond being a woman with hair long enough to pull.

Pairing: Commander Neyo x the Admiral (formerly Fem!Reader)

Rating: M | 18+ | Minors DNI

Wordcount: 6.5K (I know)

Warnings and tags: toxic, obsessive behavior; SO MUCH SMUT; hatefucking; rough sex; oral sex; PIV; hair pulling; biting; sex under the influence of alcohol; Neyo and the Admiral being absolute menaces to society

Disclaimer: Let me just put on my Auntie DJ hat for a second. *ahem* This is a work of fiction intended for entertainment only. Please do not take this as a guide to romance or a healthy relationship. Neyo and the Bad-miral are flawed characters in a wildly problematic relationship with more red flags than the Fire Nation. Enjoy!

Matchmaker extraordinaire Daria Trace was not accustomed to failure. When she applied her considerable intellect to a problem, she did not stop until she formulated a solution. Which was why her now-99% matchmaking success rate galled her so intensely. In all her years of matchmaking, she had never encountered a client so stubbornly determined to thwart her efforts as Marshal Commander Neyo. After twelve failed matches—one of which involved a call from an infuriated woman demanding to know “why the kriff you thought I was a good match for that sociopath”—she had reluctantly conceded defeat.

The blacklisting of Commander Neyo from the Right to Love Matchmaking Service spread like wildfire through the GAR gossip channels. Most of the troopers thought it was hilarious; others insisted that he’d finally gotten what he deserved. In fact, the only people who seemed to have any sympathy for Neyo were Commanders Bacara (to be expected) and Fox (somewhat less expected). And when Fox reached out directly to Daria and asked her, as a personal favor, to give Neyo one more chance, she agreed. One more chance, and ONLY to give her an opportunity to get that track record back up to a perfect 100%.

She glared irritably at Neyo’s file and clicked her stylus three times, twirling it between her fingers. The man was impossible. It was no wonder he’d turned to RTL for help finding a partner; any woman in her right mind would run in the opposite direction the minute she looked into those blank, frigid eyes. She shuddered involuntarily. Shark’s eyes. Daria had made a few discreet inquiries after he’d first signed up for the service, just to make sure she wasn’t about to set up some unsuspecting match with a serial murderer. Without fail, every single answer said the same thing: he was an ice-cold sonofabitch, but he had a strict code of honor, and no, he wasn’t a serial murderer. Probably.

She sighed and tossed his file to the side, to be revisited some other day. He was her most difficult client, but by no means was he the only problematic match candidate, and she had a small stack of what Blizzard liked to call The Hopeless Casefiles waiting for her to review. Just thinking about Neyo’s case had given her the beginnings of a spectacular tension headache, and she flipped through the folders quickly, looking for one that was a little less challenging. As she skimmed the stacks of flimsi, her eyes came to rest on one name: Reeda Wai’yen.

Now there’s a thought.

Daria was sure that Reeda was a lovely woman, despite all evidence to the contrary. She was just very… intense. Like Neyo, she had chewed through several potential matches, and the most frequent word that appeared in her failed matches’ post-date surveys was “intimidating,” followed closely by “terrifying.” Daria had sniffed disdainfully that those particular matches simply couldn’t handle a strong woman; however, she had to admit that after several months of trying, she had not been able to find a perfect match for Reeda. She pulled Neyo’s file and laid it out next to Reeda’s. As she compared their backgrounds and preferences, she became more and more convinced. This could work. Given their personalities, it might well be the best possible outcome for society at large if they were both removed from the dating pool. And if it happened to close out her two most annoying files, well. That would just be the cherry on top of her perfect-track-record sundae.

A timid knock sounded on Reeda’s office door.

“Come,” she called shortly.

Her assistant, Lissi, poked her head into the room. “Sorry to bother you, sir, but you’ve received a comm from RTL Matchmaking.”

Reeda cursed. She was up to her ass in flimsiwork, and she was meeting with the Senate Task Force on Galactic Security in ten minutes. She did not have time for this now. 

“Take care of it,” she ordered.

“Sir?” Lissi asked, her wide, startled eyes giving her a distinct resemblance to a terrified ash-rabbit. 

“Just take care of it,” Reeda repeated, tamping down her irritation at being questioned. “You know my schedule better than I do. Set it up. Somewhere nice—somewhere in the Federal district. I don’t have time to deal with traffic.”

Lissi blinked, nonplussed. “Don’t you want to see who you matched with?”

“No time,” Reeda said, rising to gather her materials for the meeting. “Just put it on my calendar, and I’ll be there.”

Three nights later, Reeda sat in the restaurant at the top of the tower where her penthouse was located, waiting for her mystery date to arrive. She had to commend Lissi’s efficiency in choosing the venue; the only traffic she’d had to endure was at the lift. And it was a lovely restaurant, she had to admit, with stunning views of the Coruscant cityscape. She had only eaten here once since she’d bought the flat, usually opting to have food delivered to her office at the Republic Center for Military Operations as she worked late into the night.

She had resisted the urge to bring her datapad with her to the restaurant, knowing that if she did, she would inevitably get sucked into work, but now she wished she’d taken a moment to review the file from RTL. It wasn’t that she thought all clone troopers were interchangeable; far from it. She had worked closely with them during the war, had fought by their sides, and she had found them to be brave, competent, and loyal. They were also notoriously attractive, but she was a professional, and she was their superior officer, and she had never allowed that line to become blurred—except on one memorable and highly regrettable occasion.

She had had no time for a personal life during the war, but now that it was over—well, to be honest, she still had no time for a personal life. Which was exactly why she had reached out to RTL; it was the perfect solution. She didn’t enjoy solitude. She wanted companionship, and maybe even something more. But she needed a partner who would understand the demands of her career, and nobody understood the burden of duty better than the clones. Now that she had separated from the GAR and returned to her post in her home planet’s military defense force, the rules regarding fraternization no longer applied to her.

She hadn’t bothered to review the file because she’d learned from the previous several failed dates that a promising file was no indicator of compatibility. Still, as she waited for her date, who was now seven minutes late, she wished she’d at least checked to see if he had any identifying marks or tattoos that would make him easier to spot. To be fair, though, the few clones present in the restaurant were already paired up with other diners.

Her stomach rumbled. She hadn’t intended to skip lunch, but she’d had back-to-back meetings with the joint chiefs of the Core Worlds Defense Alliance and the senate appropriations committee, and one thing led to another. The service droid had delivered a basket of fresh, hot bread rolls, which she had heroically resisted for the first six minutes past the scheduled start of the date, but now her resolve began to crumble. If her mystery date didn’t have the basic courtesy to be on time, by the Force, he wouldn’t have a leg to stand on if she ate all the bread before he arrived.

She buttered a roll and took a small bite. She couldn’t suppress the groan of relief at the buttery, yeasty goodness, and she quickly polished it off, then picked up another. She had just begun to butter her third role when the unmistakable voice of a clone spoke next to her.

“Admiral.”

She turned automatically, a smile just beginning to form on her lips, when she caught sight of a familiar set of numbers tattooed on a handsome, arrogant face.

“Oh, no,” she said with disgust. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same question,” Marshal Commander Neyo replied contemptuously. “I have as much right to be here as you do.”

“I’m on a date,” she snapped.

He looked pointedly at the empty chair across from her. “Looks like your date has a strong sense of self-preservation. Probably took one look at you and ran for their life.”

“He’s just a little late,” she said, tilting her jaw at a haughty angle to hide the flash of hurt at his words.

“That must kill you,” he said with a mirthless chuckle. “I remember the time you made a Jedi padawan cry for being three minutes behind schedule.”

“There were barely tears. Do. Not. Sit,” she gritted out as he made himself comfortable in the chair across from her. He picked up one of the remaining bread rolls and took a large bite, and she sighed. “Why are you here, anyway?”

“It just so happens, I am also on a date,” he said, mumbling around the bite of bread.

“Oh?” she wrinkled her nose at his table manners. “And who’s the unlucky lady?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Some civvie named Reeda.”

Her hand tightened dangerously around her butter knife. Neyo’s eyes dropped to the blade, and he smirked.

“Disappointed?” he asked.

“You could say that,” she said, grinding her jaw. “I’m Reeda.”

He choked on his bite of bread and wheezed a bit, pounding his chest to clear his airway. Alas, he survived.

“What?” he sputtered.

“You didn’t even bother to find out my first name after you were inside me?” she demanded. Her sharp tone attracted attention from the surrounding diners, and she heard a few quiet titters from the tables around her, but she was too irate to care.

“You didn’t even bother to find out who’d be eating dinner with you?” he retorted.

“Don’t pretend you aren’t just as surprised as I am,” she snapped. “Didn’t you read the file?”

“I didn’t get a file, just a call.” He grunted. “Apparently, ‘beggars can’t be choosers,’ and I was lucky to get a match at all.”

“Why am I not surprised?” she mocked.

“Careful, Admiral. Don’t forget they matched you with me.”

“I would be insulted if it weren’t so obviously a mistake. I can’t say I’m impressed with their performance thus far.”

“For once, I agree with you,” he said. “You’d have to be a special kind of incompetent to think we were a good match.”

The service droid approached the table and asked, “May I take your order?”

“He’s not staying,” Reeda cut in.

“I’ll have the bantha filet,” Neyo replied, ignoring her. “Bloody.”

He turned to her and arched his brows. The droid waited expectantly.

“I’ve suddenly lost my appetite,” she lied.

Neyo’s mouth twisted, and he huffed a breath through his nose. “The admiral will have the roast porg. And a bottle of Alderaanian red.”

The droid nodded and ambled away. Reeda glared at Neyo.

“I don’t eat meat, you presumptuous ass,” she said.

“Liar,” he said. “Unfortunately, the souls of the innocent weren’t on the menu, so I had to settle for your second-favorite meal.”

“At least you’re safe, since you obviously have no soul and you’re definitely not innocent,” she said in a pleasant tone.

Damn him for being right about the porg, though. How did he know?

The wine arrived, and he poured a generous glass for each of them. She didn’t toast; just downed half of it in a single swallow. Neyo sipped his and leaned back in his chair to observe her. His sleek, severe hair and the large tattoo on his cheek made him look menacing as hell, but it was his eyes that made brave men take a step back. She didn’t know how it was possible for his eyes to be that unnerving. Gods, why did he have to be so handsome? What a waste of perfectly good Fett genes to have a personality like that.

“Did you stay just to torment me?” she asked when the silence stretched beyond the limits of her endurance.

“And because I heard the filet was good,” he said affably. “What are you even doing on Coruscant? I thought you’d scuttled back to whatever hellhole spawned you.”

“Kuat,” she bit out from between clenched teeth. “I was assigned to work as our military liaison on Coruscant.”

“Couldn’t stand having you back on the planet?” he derided. “I don’t blame them.”

“I need to use the fresher,” she said, flinging her napkin down on the table with excessive force. “Feel free to die while I’m gone.”

She strode purposefully through the restaurant, her face set in a steely mask. She knew she was drawing attention from other patrons, but if she sat at that table and listened to Neyo needle her for one more second, she was either going to stab him or burst into tears. She pushed through the refresher doors and went to the sink, washing her hands just to give herself something to do. The face that stared back at her from the mirror was Admiral Wai’yen, not Reeda. Stern. Unyielding. Unaffected.

She swallowed, and her face crumpled. Tears of rage stung her eyes, and she ruthlessly wiped them away with her clenched fist. A soft noise at the door startled her, and she whirled to face the intruder. Horror flooded her. It was Neyo, and he’d caught her crying in the ladies’ room.

“What the kriff do you think you’re doing in here?” she demanded icily. “Get out.”

He stared at her for a moment, and then he locked the door. Stalking across the room, he cupped her jaw in his hands and tilted her face to get a closer look. She tried to pull away, to put her Admiral Wai’yen mask back in place, but then his thumb stroked softly next to her eye, wiping away the tear that had breached containment. She gasped involuntarily, and his lips collided with hers.

Reeda was so shocked that for a moment she went perfectly still, but then Neyo flicked his tongue across her lower lip, and her body remembered how to move. She thrust him away and stood back, glaring at him. His chest rose and fell quickly, and those cold eyes blazed with a dark and covetous fire. She raised a hand to her lips and felt the slickness left by his tongue. Something snapped inside her. She took two hasty steps forward, and she was in his arms again, his hands rough and dominating on her body as they consumed each other with a kiss that teetered on the edge of violence. 

Lips, tongues, teeth crashed together. He clasped her tightly against his hard, unyielding body, and unbidden, the memory of him deep inside her came flooding back. He gripped her ass and ground his rapidly stiffening cock against her. Her reaction was electric. She rolled her hips, nearly climbing him in desperation. He dropped his mouth to her neck and kissed her once, roughly, and then to her breast, yanking aside her dress as he closed his teeth on her soft skin. He picked her up by the waist and set her on the edge of the sink, dropping to his knees between her thighs, rucking up her dress around her hips, and then his mouth was on her.

He didn’t even bother removing her underwear, as though he couldn’t wait another millisecond to taste her. He licked and sucked on her through the fabric, his mouth working frantically. Her body jolted and trembled at the effort of staying upright, and then his tongue snaked past the lace and dipped into her, smooth and hot and wet. He let out a vicious growl and grabbed her hips, settling her thighs over his shoulders, and then he pulled her off the sink and thrust her against his face as his tongue speared over and over into her cunt. She yelped and scrambled to brace herself with her hands, her arms shaking with exertion.

She couldn’t come like this, but kriff, it was hot to feel Neyo throw her around with such ease, like she was his own personal toy. How many nights had she fucked herself to sleep to the memory of their first encounter? The way he’d lifted her bodily off the ground and thrust into her, supporting them both with those powerful thighs—it played on a loop in her head for months, long after the bite marks and bruises had faded.

His tongue slid out of her cunt and swirled around her clit, and her legs spasmed around his head. She couldn’t come like this. Could she? All the muscles in her body began to tense, and her pelvis began to rock rhythmically against his face. Shit, I’m going to come. No sooner had the thought formed than Neyo dropped her back onto the sink and pulled away from her.

“No!” she wailed. “You bastard, I was right there!”

He shot to his feet. “Shut. Up,” he bit out, and kissed her punishingly hard. “Do you want the whole Federal District to know what we’re doing?”

He pulled her head back to expose her throat, and he scraped his teeth across her delicate skin. She felt his other hand fumbling in between them. Within seconds, his cock was free and thrusting against the scrap of lace that still covered her. She wrapped her legs around him and pulled him against her, determined to find the stimulation that she needed to reach completion.

“Get inside me,” she hissed.

“You aren’t calling the shots any more, Admiral,” he growled. “You don’t get to give commands.”

“I hate you,” she breathed. 

“And yet here you are, begging for my cock,” he said coldly. 

“I do not beg,” she said. “Ever.”

He released her hair and pried her legs away from himself, then took a step back. “You get nothing until you admit that you want me. I’ve waited a long time for this. I can keep waiting.”

“What the kark is that supposed to mean?” she demanded, sliding off the sink to stand in front of him.

“It means you give me what I want, or I walk out that door right now and you can figure your own shit out.”

Was this his twisted kriffing way of asking for consent? Because she was pretty sure she’d covered that when she all but ordered him to fuck her.

“Fine,” she said in a low voice. “I…” She nearly choked on the words, and Neyo’s intent gaze pinned her in place. “I want you.”

He wrapped his hand around the back of her neck and pulled her in for a bruising kiss, then spun her around and bent her over the sink. He pulled up her dress, yanked down her panties, and thrust into her. She muffled a whimper at the intrusion and squeezed her eyes shut as she adjusted to the stretch. He wrapped his hands around her hair and jerked her head up.

“Open your eyes. I want you to watch,” he ordered.

She complied, shocked when she saw her own ravaged face in the mirror as Neyo pounded into her from behind. Her makeup was smeared, her hair was a wreck, her eyes were dilated with lust, and a sheen of sweat glistened across her skin. She flicked her gaze to stare at Neyo. His face was twisted into a scowl, and if she had any sense at all, she would have been frightened, but she was in too deep to care. His hard eyes met hers in the mirror, and his jaw tightened.

He released her hair and slid his arm around her body, between her breasts, to wrap around her throat, and he lifted her upright so he could whisper in her ear.

“Do you know what you did to me?” His voice was hoarse and anguished. “Every time I kissed someone, all I could taste was you. Every time I hooked up, all I could remember was this perfect fucking pussy.”

He pounded into her with bruising intensity, furiously working her clit with his free hand. Her head began to throb. This was so wrong. He couldn’t be saying what she thought she was hearing. She was confused from the lack of blood flowing to her brain.

“I got matched twelve different times, and not one of them was right, because not one of them was you,” he snarled. “You cursed me. You haunt me.”

The world began to darken around the edges as her eyes drifted closed, and he released her throat and forced her head to the side so she faced him.

“Look at me when you fucking come,” he ordered.

She gasped, and he clamped his hand down over her mouth to muffle her scream as he wrenched an orgasm from her body. He didn’t let up, chasing after her at a frenzied pace that rocked her entire body as she sobbed into his hand.

“Inside?” he asked roughly.

She nodded and whimpered as tears blurred her vision and spilled down her cheeks. He came with two brutal thrusts, and she felt the hot rush of his release deep inside. He shuddered against her hair as his cock softened and slipped out of her. At last, he loosened his grip and turned her to face him as he leaned against the wall for support. He wrapped her in his arms and stroked her hair as she rested her head against him.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” she sighed as she licked his neck, unable to resist the temptation of tasting his skin.

“I’m sure there’s an official list in my GAR file,” he said, pressing a soft kiss to her temple.

Reeda cleaned up quickly while Neyo went back to their table so they wouldn’t be spotted leaving the refresher together. Her hairstyle was destroyed, so she hastily repinned it as well as she could, and then wiped off the mascara that smudged heavily beneath her eyes. A quick reapplication of lipstick, and she almost looked presentable—with the minor exception of her missing panties, which Neyo had silently retrieved from the refresher floor and tucked into his pocket while maintaining strong eye contact.

When she returned to the dining room, Neyo waylaid her with a ferocious expression. Force, what is he scugged about now?

“We’re leaving,” he said, taking her by the wrist and pulling her toward the exit. A few quiet murmurs whispered around the room as he dragged her behind him.

“What?” she asked, tugging her wrist to no avail. “Why?”

“The karking droid gave away our table,” he said.

“My deepest apologies, Admiral,” the droid said. “We can locate another table if you would care to wait.”

Reeda assessed the room quickly. Every table was occupied, and none of the diners were anywhere close to being ready to leave. Moreover, at least half of the customers were eyeing her and Neyo with expressions ranging from amusement to overt curiosity.

“No,” she said. “Have the food delivered to my flat.”

“Right away, sir,” the droid replied, waddling off to relay the order to the kitchen.

Neyo looked at her inquisitively. “Your flat?”

“I live in this building,” she said. “Come with me.”

She was keenly aware of the many sets of eyes that tracked their hasty exit, but before long, she led Neyo into the private, secure lift that opened directly into her penthouse. He stood silently next to her on the trip up, watching her with an inscrutable gaze. She tried not to give herself an opportunity to second-guess her decision to let him into her home. Strange, she thought, how this seemed more intimate than allowing him inside her body. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d allowed another person into her home. 

The lift doors opened, and he followed her into the flat, pausing long enough to remove their shoes, then looking around curiously.

“Lived here long?”

“A few months,” she said. “I bought it when I found out I’d be stationed on Coruscant long-term.”

“It’s nice,” he said. “Very… clean.”

She laughed. “You mean sterile. I haven’t had time to do much decorating. I’m hardly here except to sleep, anyway.”

He nodded. “I thought I’d have more time for hobbies after the war ended, but now it’s just nonstop—”

“Red tape and committees,” she finished with a sympathetic grimace. He shot her a wry grin. She didn’t think she’d ever seen him smile before, and it did uncomfortable things to her brain. She tried not to think about it, instead asking, “What kind of hobbies? Aside from plotting my slow death, obviously.”

“Oh, you know,” he said vaguely. “Torturing small, adorable creatures; sharpening my vibroblade collection; collecting stamps; that sort of thing.”

She blinked. “I can’t tell if you’re joking.”

He regarded her steadily for a moment, eyes unreadable as ever. “You really think the worst of me, don’t you?”

She was taken aback. “I—”

Her reply was cut off by the chime of the door. The food had arrived, thank the Force, which gave her a moment to stop herself from blurting out her immediate thought: You’ve never given me any reason to think anything else.

Neyo was a competent soldier—brilliant, in fact. There was no question that he had one of the finest tactical and strategic minds in the GAR. But as a person? From the moment they’d met, he’d been antagonistic, sardonic, cold. He’d challenged her authority and provoked her in meetings. He’d only treated her with the barest semblance of civility in public, and in private—Well. They both knew how things went when they were alone.

The service droid rolled a cart into the dining room and began setting up the meal.

“Can I get you a drink?” she offered Neyo. “I don’t have any Alderaanian red, but I do have Cheedoan whiskey.”

“The good stuff,” he replied. “I’ll have a glass. Thanks.”

The droid finished setting up and shuffled out the front door as Reeda poured two generous glasses of whiskey at the wet bar.

“Ice?” she asked.

He didn’t answer, and when she turned around, she nearly dropped the glasses in surprise to find him standing close behind her. He locked his eyes on hers and never looked away as he took one of the glasses and drained it in a single swallow, then set it down with a decisive click on the counter. Her heart began to pound as he loomed over her. He traced his fingers from her elbow up to her wrist, and then he wrapped his hand around hers and raised her glass to her lips. 

The whiskey burned a fiery path across her tongue and down her throat. A few droplets escaped and splashed coldly on her chest. Neyo didn’t let up until she emptied the glass, and when she was done, he leaned down and sucked the liquor off her skin. His hands dropped to her hips and slid up her back as he located the zipper of her dress and dragged it down excruciatingly slowly, and all the while, his mouth moved across her skin. He slipped the straps down over her shoulders and let the dress fall to the floor, and then he kissed a path along the lacy edge of her bra.

“Thanks for the matched set,” he said, unhooking it and pulling it off.

“Those were expensive, asshole,” she said unsteadily.

He didn’t reply, but she knew she was never going to see that bra again. He kissed his way down her breast and captured her nipple in his mouth, abrading it lightly with his teeth. She jolted, and the empty glass slipped from her hand and smashed against the hard tiles of the floor. 

Neyo barely responded to the sound of shattering crystal. Reeda froze, keenly aware that the smallest movement could result in a bloody footful of glass. She stood utterly, helplessly still as he continued to explore her body with his teeth and lips and hands and tongue. He was thorough in his attentions, and something about being entirely at his mercy was wildly arousing. Her head spun as the whiskey began to work its insidious way through her bloodstream.

“I missed this perfume. What is it?” he murmured against the soft skin of her abdomen.

“I don’t wear any,” she said.

He nuzzled against her as though he could transfer her scent to his own skin. Without warning, he scooped her up and carried her out of the room, completely disregarding the risk to himself. But instead of dropping her as soon as they were clear of the broken glass as she expected, he asked, “Bedroom?”

“Left,” she said, and he strode across the flat and kicked open the door, to her intense irritation. “You gonna pay for the broken doorknob?”

He didn’t reply, just tossed her onto the bed and pounced on her as soon as she landed. He slid in between her thighs and gripped her hard as his mouth descended on hers, kissing her as though he were trying to devour her soul. He was still fully clothed, and she scrambled to pull off his shirt. He was completely unhelpful, too engrossed in her taste. She raked her nails across his skin as she yanked his shirt over his head, and he seized her lip in his teeth in revenge.

At last, the barrier of his shirt was gone, and she writhed against him, desperate to feel as much of his warm, smooth skin against her as possible. They clashed together, sinking nails and teeth into each other. At some point, Neyo got his trousers down enough to free his cock, and he shoved into her. His belt chafed harshly on her delicate skin as she wrapped her legs around him, urging him to go deeper, harder, faster. The sounds they made were unholy, primal: growls and grunts and screams of pain and ecstasy as they tore into each other with all the aggression that they had built over the years. 

She pulled his hair; he clawed her back. She slapped his face; he bit her shoulder. She snarled that she loathed him; he interlaced his fingers with hers and whispered how beautiful she was when she came apart beneath him. She thrust him away and kicked him across the bed; he pinned her down and fucked her until she sobbed and begged for more. At some point, she tasted blood, and she didn’t know or care whose it was. And when at last she lost count of how many times he’d brought her to orgasm, he curled his body around hers and traced his thumb softly over her features as she drifted to sleep.

“If I die while I’m inside you, it’s the closest I’ll ever get to heaven,” he whispered.

“Force, you say some kriffed up shit,” she grumbled.

Reeda awakened slowly, aware of something blissfully warm and soothing moving across her skin. She cracked her eyes open. Neyo was lying on top of her, dragging his tongue lazily over her body. He roamed along her curves, and it wasn’t until he paused at her bruised wrist that she realized what he was doing.

“Are you licking my wounds?” she breathed.

He didn’t answer, but his eyes met hers with an intensity that bordered on madness. Gods, everything about this was so fucked up, and she didn’t dare examine too closely why she found it so incredibly arousing. He moved slowly, meticulously, his tongue gliding softly over every centimeter of her body, until she felt like a bomb, ready to detonate at the slightest spark. She came before he ever reached her cunt, and again as he rocked gently inside her, his lips soft against her mouth, silent tears spilling from the corners of her eyes to course down her temples.

After, he guided her into the shower, and when her legs gave out, he held her upright as the hot water washed over them. Once he’d massaged her entire body with his strong, soapy hands, he dried her off and laid her back on the bed while he spread bacta across the damage he’d inflicted. It was disorienting to be cared for so thoroughly by the man who’d spent the better part of four years making her life hell. He didn’t speak, and she didn’t know what to say, so in the end, she simply watched him in silence.

When he finished with the bacta, he retrieved their dinner from the dining room. The food had long since gone cold, but after hours of intense physical activity, they were famished, and they ate it anyway, sharing bites and sipping whiskey straight from the decanter. Neyo sat with his back against the headboard, his long, strong legs bracketing Reeda as she leaned back against his broad chest.

“How did you know porg was my favorite?” she asked.

He shrugged. “They’re tiny, cute, and innocent. I just assumed you would enjoy extinguishing the life from them and consuming their remains.”

She laughed and snuggled closer to him. “Is that why you order your meat rare? Because it’s the next best thing to drinking straight from the source?”

“Finally, someone who understands,” he smirked. “Truthfully, I overheard you tell Admiral Coburn that porg was your favorite during a banquet at the strategy conference at Valor.”

She turned to stare up at him. “Neyo, that was two years ago. That was before we ever…”

“I know,” he said, burying his face in her hair and breathing deeply.

“Stalker,” she murmured.

He dropped his mouth to her neck, and she tilted her head back against his shoulder as his lips glided across her skin. 

“What does it say about you that you like it?” he whispered when he reached her ear.

He pulled her close, positioning himself between her and the bedroom door. From the proprietary way he held her, she knew it was a deliberate choice; any threat that came through that door would have to go through him before it got to her, and she had a feeling that there weren’t many beings in the galaxy that were brave or foolish enough to try.

Reeda jerked awake to a furious pounding at the front door. Neyo was already halfway out of the bedroom, stark naked and armed with a steak knife from their midnight dinner.

“Wait here,” he ordered, his voice hard and flat.

She rolled her eyes as she pulled on a bathrobe and grabbed a blaster from her nightstand. Neyo glared at her when she joined him, but didn’t bother yelling at her.

“Coruscant guard! Open up,” a modulated voice shouted harshly from outside the door.

Neyo glanced questioningly at her, and she shrugged, hiding the blaster behind her robe. He stepped out of view of the door, and she opened it to find none other than Marshal Commander Fox, flanked by two Corrie ARC troopers.

“Commander,” she greeted him, not bothering to conceal the surprise in her voice.

“Good to see you’re in one piece, Admiral,” he said. “Are you all right?”

“I beg your pardon?” she asked, baffled.

“We received multiple calls about a disturbance at your address. Are you alone?”

Reeda felt a hot rush of blood wash over her face and neck. “I fail to see how that is any business of yours, Commander.”

“Sorry, sir, but it’s my duty to—” He stopped abruptly, and his visor shifted to a point behind her. 

“Isn’t this a little below your pay grade, Fox?” Neyo drawled close behind Reeda.

Fox’s visor turned back to Reeda, then to Neyo, and then back to Reeda again. The two ARC troopers appeared to be fascinated by the walls on either side of the front door. 

At last, Fox spoke. “I don’t send shinies to wake up admirals.”

Neyo’s hand slid possessively around the front of Reeda’s abdomen, and he pulled her against his nude body. Something large and solid prodded against her backside. Dank farrik, is he turned on right now? Sick bastard.

“Thank you for your concern,” she told Fox, “but everything is under control.”

“So I see,” Fox replied. “Still, you’ll need to keep the noise level down, or I’ll have no choice but to arrest you for disturbing the peace.”

Neyo reached forward silently and shut the door in Fox’s face, then he spun Reeda around, picked her up over his shoulder, and carried her back to the bedroom. The last thing Fox heard was the unmistakable sound of Neyo’s hand slapping her ass as Reeda shrieked with indignant laughter.

Republic Military HQ buzzed quietly with speculation the next morning when not one, but two of the most senior command staff called in sick for the first time in either of their careers. Rumors swirled: some were convinced a secret bioweapon had been released by Separatist holdouts; others maintained that the stress of dealing with politicians was beginning to take a toll; still others claimed that it was a coverup and that the marshal commander and the admiral had been taken hostage by pirates. It was whispered that Commander Fox had a particularly haunted expression that morning, and two of the Coruscant Guard ARC Troopers had contacted the legal department to update their wills. In the midst of all this, the beleaguered Lissi received a brusque order to inform RTL Matchmaking that the admiral no longer required their services.

Daria drained her third iced caf of the morning as she flicked through her holomessages. Buried amidst the intake forms and meeting invitations was an abrupt-bordering-on-rude note from Marshal Commander Neyo ordering her to close his file.

“Why do you look like the tooka that got the blue milk?” her fellow matchmaker Tarsi Renda asked as she passed Daria in the corridor.

“Oh, no reason,” Daria smiled. “The galaxy is back to normal, that’s all—and my track record is once again perfect.”

---

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[werdlewrites]

masterlist - ao3 - twitter @ djomamma

summary: It’s a little silly just how happy it leaves him. Knowing he’s made it through the barricade and not pushed back out into the wastelands. Instead, he’s welcomed, and she finds ease in his presence. It’s more than just silly when he parks the car out front, feeling this brewing ache buried within his chest. It feels suffocating and dizzying and leaves him confused. Confused as to why he attempts to race around to open her door, though forcing himself to straighten as he finds she’s already standing in the snow, rubbing at sore eyes. wc: 3,140 warnings: STEVE FLUFF, blood

Time is a mere illusion out at the edge of Hawkins, Indiana. Children ran rampant, tiring themselves out until their clothes were soaked and their limbs had gone limp from the exhausting weight. Their parents change out their jackets and warm their skin with a hot drink, while others simply cave to the silence of their child and cart their sleepy bodies back to their cars. But the park remains busy—a constant blow of bodies as others sweep in for a taste of the thrill, easily filling the space of the ones who had left.

But the two teens have yet to give in—no matter how their legs ached from the repeated climb or the burn that scorched their lungs. Their laughter was wild and carefree. Her eyes sparkling for the first time since…well, longer than he can recall. And maybe that was his plan all along. To pull her out from the depths of sadness and into the light. There was no loss of family or the dread of fleeing from monsters and bad men. It was her birthday, and she deserved to smile.

So, they climb back up the hill. They slip and stumble, making the journey much longer, and the fits of laughter don’t help. They take breaks on the swings, locked in a trance as they people-watch, waiting to catch their breath and not saying a word to one another. It’s a comfortable silence with the occasional rumble of laughter as they take in the other’s winter-bitten cheeks.

However, peace is short-lived. Autumn is up on her feet once more, pulling at the handle of her sled as she trudged through the snow, casting a glance over her shoulder. “I’ll race you.”

It almost doesn’t register. The Autumn that stands before him is his—the one he’s always known. Her flaws are worn with pride, yet she refuses to drown in them and wither away. She breathes with new life, and he jumps at the chance to savor it before it fizzles out like a dying light.

They stand at the hill's peak together, carefully settling into their places with intense stares at one another. “Ready t’lose?”

The girl at his side scoffs, eyes rolling back before settling on the path ahead. They wait impatiently, watching as children scramble to stand at the bottom and make room for others. The second it became clear, there was no countdown or warning. A simple “Go!” shouted as she launched herself forward. Steve is only a second behind her, an aggravated shout heard as he chases her down, closing the gap all too quickly.

Autumn doesn’t see him there—he’s sure of it. With a smile on her face and a look of victory in her eyes, she believes she’s already won before they even reach the end. And it’s approaching faster than he expects. Maybe it’s the sun wearing down the layers of snow or the frequent use to flatten every fine crystal for less resistance. But there’s no time to question it or call out from concern before her sled catches the edge of the ice. She’s flipped into his paved lane in the blink of an eye, crashing into his body with desperate fingers reaching to grab for anything before the force pries them apart.

The pressure against his chest leaves him winded. His eyes are clamped shut and filled with flashes of stars for only a second, but the haze they leave behind lingers once he takes in the light again. Steve hardly gives himself time to recover when he sees her splayed out on her stomach, mouth hung agape as she also tries to catch her breath. Then she begins to laugh. It’s silent at first, with no air to fill her lungs as he scrambles toward her.

It’s a little contagious. Seeing the joy in her eyes works its way deep to pull out a weary smile of his own, though it’s unable to drown out the overwhelming worry. He helps the girl up onto her knees, ignoring the onlookers as they snicker from above at their collision. “Are you okay?”

She can only nod in response. Her body was overcome with snorts and laughter, struggling to recover. Steve almost joins, but something in the glistening white snow catches his eye. A brilliant red mixed throughout where she once lay, the area small but alarming enough that his eyes go wide. “Are you hurt?”

His voice is filled with panic. Shaken hands gripping her shoulders to keep her form still as he studies her face and any exposed skin. He finds a drop of blood fall from the tip of her finger, and he acts without thought, grabbing at her wrist to expose her palm to the gray sky. “Shit, Aut,” he grumbles.

A stray rock buried beneath the white had left a gash across her skin. A few scrapes surround the bleeding wound at the center, pooling slowly and trickling against his flesh. The boy is left in such a state of shock and worry that he doesn’t take notice of the sudden change of atmosphere. There’s no more laughter. No more light as darkness creeps in like the reaper, ready to take another victim. Autumn has gone eerily still with a sweet voice stripped from her chest, eyes now empty as they stare down at the crimson.

“Autumn?”

She’s elsewhere, and he knows it, but he can’t begin to understand where or how to meet her across the plain. Steve can only hope that she hears his call so that she can take the line and follow it back home.

He curls her fingers in with care to conceal the wound, using his hand to hide any sight of blood before leaning further into her view. “Come back, Aut.” He can feel crushing pressure in his chest. Something constricting and agonizingly slow, forced to watch as her face shifts to something more fearful. Her brow wrinkles and her lips quiver. Wherever she was, she needed saving. He can’t help but think of the diner. Looking not at him but through him to see unimaginable horror with tears in her eyes. Or the episode at the Byers, where she tore her fingers through his collar and the air out of pure panic, seeing what wasn’t there.

Right before she left them all in the bone-chilling silence, nearly dead in his arms.

“Hey!” It’s not the approach he would typically take, especially in such a public place. Eyes were already on them, but if she slipped away, more attention would come and the risk to her safety would only grow. He takes her face, cupped in bloodied palms, to force her eyes on the boy in front of her, begging in a whispered plea for her to wake up.

It’s evident Autumn can hear his cry by the tilt of her head. She’s lost in a heavy fog, and it all looks the same. Not knowing where she stands, but following his voice until the world becomes a little more clear. Realization hits, and a familiar light fills her eyes, ripping away from his touch with a bloodied hand coiled up to her chest.

Nothing else is said between the pair. They each carry their sled back up the steep hill, his one empty hand wrapped delicately around her wrist, not wanting to cause more damage but ready to tighten his hold should she slip in his shadow. He mutters to himself the whole way up. Complaining about the field and how everyone slacked in clearing the place of debris. “It’s a safety hazard. Ridiculous.”

The inflatables are returned without a word spoken. Practically tossed back into the line out of aggravation before he guides the girl back to his car. Ending her birthday in blood was not on the agenda. He almost blames himself for the accident, muttering insults to tear himself down. Something so second nature that he doesn’t realize what he’s said until he sees the look in her eyes.

Steve leaves his friend in the passenger seat, legs still swung out the side, while he digs through his duffle bag, filled with various things for basketball or swimming. In his hand, a gray Hawkins shirt meant to be worn for his games becomes rags within seconds. He’s tearing away strips until he finds one he likes, ignoring the disapproving comments from Autumn. “Shut up. I’ll just get another one.”

With a roll of her eyes, the bleeding hand is offered out to the boy who takes care of wrapping it. Gentle touches and glances to study her face for any signs of discomfort. She remains strong, though eyes avoidant as she looks elsewhere, mentally placing herself outside of the situation until the knot is tied. What happens next is undoubtedly the most “Steve” behavior she’s ever seen. A little oblivious, but kind and nurturing. Overly nurturing, she could say.

He buried the remnants of his shirt in the snow, letting water soak into the fabric until it was dark. He scrubs his hands until the blood becomes a mere memory, looking at her with unease. “Can I?”

A perplexed look fixates on him, unsure of what he means, until a simple wipe across her jaw reveals a dark crimson stain. Her lack of rejection spurs him on, though moving slowly, almost expecting her to lash out and bite at his hand like a wild animal. Once upon a time, she had always accepted his help. But walls had grown, and he was scaling them rather than chiseling away at the surface.

Maybe it was better this way. Maybe the girl was too impatient to wait for a savior. Her heart beating with excitement as someone braved the challenges she provided, unknowing he too could hardly catch his breath from a thunderous heart. He continues to clean her skin in silence, and she allows it.

The rags are tossed to the backseat; a frustrated groan is heard from the boy now standing off to the side, hands resting on his hips. He’s lost in thought going over how the day was meant to play out. The duo was meant to grow tired and hungry from all of the physical activity before finding a nice place to settle and eat.

“It was just an accident,” the girl suddenly states, flipping her hand back and forth to study his work and the few splotches of blood seeping through. “Shit happens. Don’t get so-”

“It’s not that, Aut” he interrupts. Soaked shoes kicking at the ground in embarrassment. “I had plans, right? Jus—just a nice day where things could be normal. And now we get to celebrate by planning my funeral because Hopper will definitely kill me.”

The boy was only joking—or maybe a fraction of it was all in fun. Hopper was overbearing and a different type of stern she wasn’t used to. He had given vague threats before out of fear of losing control of the situation. But certain things were beyond his control. Like, a little rock. Mother Nature reminded her guardian that he couldn’t keep her safe from everything. Autumn elects to fight against the tide of self-blame Steve piles onto himself. Her posture is straight, and her hands resting in a damp lap. “There’s more?”

A puzzled look fills his eyes as he looks back at her, shoulders less tense and his foot no longer tapping against the ground from nerves. “What?”

“You said you had plans. What else was there?”

His mind seems to blank. It’s visible in his expression as his mouth falls agape. Her words were running a marathon while he struggles to catch up to them. He had anticipated something more sarcastic—maybe even for her to say she had enough of him for one day. But she asks for more, and he provides almost too eagerly.

Steve taps at her knees until she’s swiveled in her seat, the door shut after her just before he runs to the very back of his car, the trunk hood blocking her view of what he was searching for. He rounds the car, purposefully holding the item up high enough for her not to see until he’s sat next to her, a proud smile on curved lips.

In his hand, he holds a plastic case with a decorated cake inside. It’s small, definitely not enough for a full party. But it’s enough for two or three people, at least. It’s chocolate with a cream frosting, filled with tiny cookie crumbles throughout, and a few Oreo chunks sprinkled over the top. It was simple, but the gesture is anything but.

It’s a treat they’ve had for multiple celebrations, and her chosen sweet treat during the summer or any season. Steve had asked her that night about her 17th birthday. The night he lay out across her floor, looking smug and leaving her irritable, as she only wanted a night of peace. A night to forget about all of the shit they had seen. The night when her life had changed.

When she doesn’t respond right away, a silent panic brews in the boy. He stumbles over what he wants to say before blurting out, “I thought it’d be colder in the trunk. So it doesn’t, uh, y’know, melt.”

He had gone too far. Steve had pushed his luck with Autumn by thinking—or hoping—things would be different for them. He ignored the line she laid out to separate the two, charging across until the boundaries were muddled and he was lost. The silence between them is deafening. Agonizing. But her lips tug into a smile, and relief soon washes in.

“What am I supposed t’eat with? My hands?”

Full of light once more, he sets the cake down at the center console to reach for the glove compartment, pulling out cheap silverware wrapped in plastic. Something he saved from one of his various fast-food trips. And that’s all it seems to take. He rips at the plastic and offers out the spoon, and together, they tear into the dessert. He doesn’t need to ask for approval of the choice—the smile she bears is enough to give him confidence, or the laughter they share as stories are told.

Tales from a previous time in their life. It’s a weary topic, almost waiting for the girl to shut down at the mention of a life she no longer had. Instead, she walks with him through memories. Laughing at little things or scolding one another for idiotic behavior from when they were younger. From when he stood up to bullies much older than him, or when they tried to sneak out, only to get busted by none other than the chief of police. Autumn says Steve is the only reason she ever got into trouble, and she stands by that years later. He calls it bad luck and waves away her accusation with a roll of his eyes.

The park becomes quiet as time passes. The children have grown tired, finally carted away by their parents for a hot shower and long nap. Even teenagers, like Steve and Autumn, have become sleepy-eyed from all of the activity. The girls' disrupted night doesn’t make it any easier, despite it only being sometime in the afternoon.

It’s a quiet drive back toward the cabin, though comfortable. Steve keeps his focus on the road ahead, only turning to check on Autumn every few moments to find her statuesque. Her cheek rests deep in her uninjured palm, her temple resting against the glass with a hazy look on her face. Her eyes threatened to close more than once. Finding peace in the drive, they begin to droop, though each time she forces them open. Using every ounce of strength to pull the curtains back and reveal the light of day.

It’s a little silly just how happy it leaves him. Knowing he’s made it through the barricade and not pushed back out into the wastelands. Instead, he’s welcomed, and she finds ease in his presence. It’s more than just silly when he parks the car out front, feeling this brewing ache buried within his chest. It feels suffocating and dizzying and leaves him confused. Confused as to why he attempts to race around to open her door, though forcing himself to straighten as he finds she’s already standing in the snow, rubbing at sore eyes.

A lazy smile shines in the dim sunlight, followed by a long yawn as she walks closer to the porch. “Thank you for today.”

“Oh!” he states, a little louder than he expects. “Oh, it was nothing.” Steve is suddenly hyper-aware of himself and how he sounds, only heightening the anxiety as it rises and spills out in ramblings. “I-I mean—it wasn’t nothing. I just meant, y’know, what’re friends for?”

If she’s noticed his sudden change in behavior—and he knows she has, it’s not mentioned. She can only smile and shake her head before turning her back on the boy, who is left frozen to watch helplessly.

But his lungs try to scream out the words he’s been conjuring up for weeks now. How to tell her that he’s sorry and that in this short time back together, he finds himself overwhelmed with remorse and guilt for leaving her behind. How he’d vow to never be that person again.

“Autumn, wait,” he calls out, shuffling through the small path she created. He stands within inches of her, his heart swelling until it feels on the verge of combustion. But there’s release as he speaks, the pressure fading yet his heart still racing. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything. I’m a fuck-up, I know.” The girl's smile begins to fade until it’s fallen flat. Her eyes are full of hurt over what he believes is her younger self as she mourns the loss of him.

“I hurt you, and I can’t go back t’change that. But I want t’spend every day trying t’make-up for the time that I lost. And t’prove I’m not—that I’m not that person.” A breath of relief comes through, lightening the load he felt burdened by. The ache in his shoulders is now fading, feeling free though left unsure by her avoidant gaze. Autumn chews at her lip in thought, swallowing down every drop of sadness to remain stoic, no matter if a broken heart wishes to weep from reprieve.

“You’ve saved me, Steve. That doesn’t sound like a fuck-up t’me.”

He realizes then that her look of sorrow wasn’t for herself but rather for him. Just a boy who had gotten lost along the way, now found in more ways than one, trying to make sense of the world and who he truly was. Maybe they were both lost. Maybe they needed reassurance from one another to face it all.

[blanketorghost]

Hiii would you mind explaining the story of your Yuu and Azul's breakup arc? It seems rlly interesting and you've made some references to it in your art so um rlly curious!

Omg!! Hi!!

and Thank you!!

I am glad someone has caught the hints I've made towards the arc since it is quite important for their development //sobs

So, it starts at the end of the school year in twst, in which a way for Yuu to come back home is found and, through Malleus's, Crowley's, and Idia's help, modifications have been made to Yuu's phone so he can still text/call people in twst.

Yuu wants to continue their relationship long-distance, but Azul is scared that Yuu will fall out of love when he's back on Earth so he forces a break up.

Yuu obviously is devastated; He's had crushes before, but he's never felt as safe and understood as he did with Azul. And the fact that he has to keep this huge year-long secret from everyone he loves starts eating him out from the inside. He comes up with the lie that he committed himself to a mental health institute due to an impending mental breakdown. (Not exactly a lie when it comes to the mental breakdown part buuut....)

Still, Yuu tries to make the best of it. Given his disappearance and being a public figure before, he suddenly gets a popularity boom which he isn't ready for, but with Azul's old talks about taking every oportunity he gets to succeed, he tries to do his best at becoming successful to make past Azul proud. He also publicly comes out as gay! Hooray!

He's still very doubtful, though. He promised himself that, when or if he came back from Twisted Wonderland, he'd start to live for himself, but now he's checking off an imaginary checklist for someone who doesn't even want to be with him anymore.

He does eventually open up to his friends when they ask about his sudden surge of motivation (and surprise influx of heartbreak and love related songs), and keeping it as vague as possible, he does speak to them about a mystery boyfriend he had back when he was committed.

Since they think heartbreak is the reason for his melancholy, they try to set him up with other guys, one being Shoyo, one of his best friend's younger brother, and someone whom has had a crush on Yuu since they were kids. Yuu, though, isn't interested on dating right now, and instead takes solace on buying miscellaneus octopus trinkets.

On the flip-side, Azul has been actively trying to move on from Yuu, going on dates and such. But he finds himself unable to find that same spark he found with Yuu, and the fear that others may only fall for his facade and not who he is truly frustrates and terrifies him, not knowing if he can keep that charade. Yuu so easily accepted and embraced every one of his flaws, he still feels nobody else could do that for him.

So, he also throws himself into his work. Maybe, if he became successful enough, Yuu would come back to him. Maybe he could give him a life in Twisted Wonderland worth staying for.

[anghraine]

What are your opinions on Pride and Prejudice 1980 overall?

Would you say that it is a faithful adaptation? Would you recommend it to a P&P fan?

I'm very partial to it and I would rate it over the 1995. I know most people adore the 1995 version, though.

I love it!

I was just talking about my two favorite adaptational takes on P&P here, and the 1980 P&P is one of them.

It definitely has flaws, both as a work in its own right and as an adaptation. You were asking about how it functions as adaptation, so I'm going to focus on that, but the overall aesthetic is extremely 1979 on a limited budget. Some of the visual/narrative choices are very staid adaptationally (like showing Elizabeth reading Darcy's letter by ... literally showing Elizabeth reading the letter).

On the flip side, there are a few improbable divergences, most notably the rushed and peculiar presentation of the second proposal (though getting a glimpse of post-proposal Darcy and Elizabeth's happiness counts for a lot for me!). There's also stuff added that doesn't really change anything, but is arguably not faithful per se. And this is not always acknowledged by the fans it does still have. Personally, I love the weird instrumentation that follows Mr Collins around and Mr Hurst's anti-mountain agenda, but people's mileage may vary.

Beyond that, I love it as an adaptation that veers away from tapping into accessible (or caricatured) stereotypes the way the 1995 does. The 1980 P&P's characters really do feel to me like very specific and usually more nuanced interpretations of the original characters compared to basically every other version of P&P—not necessarily my interpretations, but I always feel like I can see where the interpretation is coming from, beyond appeals to contemporary audience sensibilities.

Elizabeth Garvie's Elizabeth is the jewel of the production for me—charming, lively, witty, vain, with a distinct tinge of sweetness that I think adaptations often lose sight of. It's honestly difficult to even say much about her because she is simply perfect to me.

David Rintoul's Darcy is probably my favorite Darcy, too. His demeanor isn't exactly what I personally imagine, to be sure (he's not as somberly brooding as Colin Firth's Darcy, but the spirited, smiling cleverness Darcy shares with Elizabeth isn't quite there for me). But I truly respect the choice to retain the general stiffness and formality of his character rather than reducing him to a more palatable love interest/sex object. He's allowed to be odd and to make us uncomfortable in a way I don't think other adaptations are willing to risk with him.

As for the others, Bingley, Jane, and Georgiana all give the impression of more substance to them than they usually get IMO. Mrs Bennet and Caroline are obnoxious but not particularly caricatured (without the adaptation seeming apologetic towards them, either). I love the stylish, younger Mrs Gardiner and Lady Catherine, and the relatively subtle versions of their personalities. Probably the only character choice that doesn't work adaptationally for me is the very harsh Mr Bennet, who lacks much of the endearing wit of the original—though even there, I can appreciate how unwilling the adaptation is to give him a pass (by stark contrast with the much cuddlier Mr Bennets of most other productions).

Would I call it faithful? Not universally, but it is the most engaged with the novel IMO. I don't think anything is so faithful that an adaptation can be a perfect interpretation that shouldn't ever be tried again and done better, but it is the most faithful P&P out there for me, still.

Would I recommend it to a P&P fan? That's a bit harder. It's aesthetically/cinematically dated and in some ways, it's better as interpretation than as television. For people who aren't used to that staid late 70s BBC approach ... idk, it can be a tough sell. I wouldn't casually recommend it, I guess, just because the contrast with the polish of the 1995 and the beauty of the 2005 is so stark. But for people who can look past that 70s BBC period drama baggage, there's a lot that's really interesting and engaging about it.

I certainly prefer it to the 1995, but since I intensely dislike the 1995, that's not saying a whole lot. It's probably more useful on my end to say that I just really love the 1980 P&P, despite having criticisms of it. I don't even know how many times I've watched it. For me, it's a joy.

[sugutoad]

matchup trade for @coffeebooksrain18 !

HOUSE OF THE DRAGON MATCHUP

Significant Other

”I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where” — Pablo Neruda

I ship you with… Prince Aemond Targaryen — the one-eyed prince and the rider of the largest dragon. Before I had even reached your type, Aemond was the biggest contender. While Aemond is opposite to you in many ways, I believe that you have a similar bite in you that would keep him on his toes. Most people don’t speak up to the Prince when they aren’t happy with his actions ( not even his Mother who he holds so dear to his heart), but you spoke what was on your mind, not even wavering for a split second under his sharp gaze.  He will laugh with you and praise you so much whenever you feel conscious about yourself (not to mention, you don’t have to ever worry about any one pointing out any of your flaws when Aemond is standing right behind you). He is the definition of ‘dangerous, but has a soft spot for you”! I can put in any words on how perfect he is for you. Aemond brings out a new side to him as you do for him. 

RUNNER UP: JACERYS VELARYON AND DAEMON TARGARYEN

HEAD CANONS

Aemond is his mother’s boy. His youngest brother, Daeron, had been sent to squire in OldTown, leaving Aemond as his mother's youngest ( it is quite obvious that that spot does not belong to his eldest brother. Whenever his mother looks at her eldest son, all she can see is her stolen girlhood). So when his mother had told him to marry you, his mother’s ward, he spent no time arguing against her. At least he knew you. Being sent to King’s Landing at a young age, Queen Alicent took you in as her ward, sheltering you and providing you a home. Your earliest memory of the one-eyed prince was back to when… well, when he wasn’t one-eyed. He had been a shy little boy who was all but 7 name days old ( a year younger than you), who had been clutching onto his mother’s skirt. A part of him hated that you stole his mother away. The second you arrived, his mother’s attention was fixed on you. But that hatred turned into something else, something more profound he didn’t know what to call (some would call it love, while others would call it pure obsession) when you had defended when he had lost his right eye. During the wedding night, he felt dirty. He was 13 all over again when Aegon took him to seek the pleasures of the finest whore houses, as, of course, any good brother would. Once noticing his hesitation, you simply kissed him goodnight and flipped to the side. This truly made him appreciate you. You never made him do anything he did not want to. You were so patient with him. 

Oh, but do not fret! Aemond quickly warmed to you. You are after all his closest friend and it didn’t take much for him to feel true affection towards you. Sometimes he isn’t the best at showing his affection through words, but rather actions. While you would be reading a book he recommended to you ( the two of you are absolutely huge book nerds who have discussions that last hours about a single book), he would be behind you, one arm snaking around your neck and the other either holding you hand tightly or resting on your thighs. His head would be buried in your neck, softly nipping at the skin while whispering how you were made for him. That you are his and his only. He is a man who hides all his feelings behind false composure, bottling up every thought and every feeling. And it is only with you when he can curl and let it all out. 

You give to people. You give and give, pouring out your golden bleeding heart to all those near and dear. Aemond is a Targeryen. Like the very base of his house, his purpose had always been to take what he felt was his. He takes and takes until there is nothing left to destroy. And he had always been surrounded by people who would give to him. That was one of the perks he loved as a Prince, second son or not. People were always providing for him and giving him things to be in his favour ( he later figured that he was tired of being given things on a silver platter, preferring to take like his elder brother’s namesake ) But when you gave him something of your heart's purity, he was stunned for a second before regaining his false composure. And for the first time in a year, he put his heart and soul in a gift to give you back (his mother does NOT count!). The best part had been your reaction when you received the present, a smile dancing across your lips as you let out a small chuckle underneath your breath. No, scratch that. The best part has been when you looked up at him and kissed his cheek!

Aemond is a man of many Skills. He may have been born the second son, but he is a philosopher, a swordsman, a dragon rider (may I remind you of the biggest dragon) and a historian. I do not think music was something that ever intrigued him as a kid. ‘How will this even help me in life? I can not use it to fight nor use it to do politics!’ That is exactly what Aemond would say when his mother asked if he wanted to learn the harp from her. He did not want to learn music, but that did not mean he shared no love for it. Sometimes when he would be walking on and about the endless halls of the Red Keep, he would hear a soft melody with the music of a harp playing. He would always stop and smile on the inside. Who else would sound like that or play like that, but you? Once he heard you swear a bit too loudly after messing up a cord. He came into the room, leaning on the door frame. ‘I thought a proper lady should not be going on with such… foul language, m’lady?’

Vhagar is his pride. He does not go a day without bragging about his she-dragon and her size. Though you had never seen Vhagar, you came across Syrax once as a child and she was big! Oh how wrong you had been. Your heart had almost stopped when Aemond presented Vhagar. It did not get better at all! Aemond asked you to join him for a ride and you let out a yelp when Vhagar flew off in the air with a draconic screech, tightening your arms around Aemond’s waist (a victory for Aemond!)

Ship Tropes

She was sunshine (You) x I was midnight rain (Aemond)

Absolutely dangerous and cold (Aemond) x Their soft spot (You)

Loves physical touch (You) x Touch starved (Aemond)

Ship Songs

Me And the Devil by Soap&Skin

Shrike by Hozier

‘ THE SUN OF WINTER’

You belong to House Karstark. Ok, I understand you must be so confused right now. But your warm nature yet also this colder facade reminded me of the Northern families. An even bonus is that you lived in a Ranch away from most people, similar to how the North always keeps to itself. But House Stark did not settle in with me. I wanted more of a power imbalance between you and Aemond and House Karstark just stuck! And you have this warm vibe that I have mentioned before that is somewhere hidden between a colder demeanour. And what are the words of House Karstark? ‘The sun of winter’! Basically the warmth in all this coldness and that just fits you so poetically.  

BACKSTORY

‘Born to Lord Bjorn Karstark and Lady Lucinda Manderly, Rhyla Karstark ( Since Westerosi names are different then our own, I think the name Riley would turn into Rhyla) was the youngest of her four siblings. The Northerns would later report her parent’s fondness for their youngest daughter to Maester Eustace. The girl was a bright one with a smile on her face, truly ‘The Sun Of Winter’, her father’s house name. Unlike her siblings who possessed their father’s darker curl as opposed to her mother’s blonde lock, Rhyla had inherited a light shade of brown. The little girl was her cousin, Cregan Stark the future Lord of Winterfell, closest playmate. Once the girl had reached her 7th name day, Lady Lucinda sent her youngest daughter under the ward ship of her second cousin, Queen Alicent Hightower. Rhyla was dotted on by the Green Queen and her second son grew a fondness for her that the bards would still sing up and past to the reign of King Aegon iii’

DRAGON

When Viserys took his children, his lady wife and her ward to Dragonstone, he had told his children that they could claim any dragon if they were bold enough to do so. While her friends had gone off to find their dragons (Prince Aegon had claimed Sunfyre the Golden that day and mere hours later, his sister claimed the Might Dreamfyre who had last been ridden by Queen Rhaena. Prince Aemond had been left dragonless) 10 year old Rhyla wandered off by herself until she met Vermithor, a mighty dragon ridden once by the Wise King. (I chose this dragon for you because it contrasts so much! Imagine your sweeter self with this grumpy old dragon who hates everyone, but he somehow chose you! King Jaeharys is rolling in his grave because a non-Targayen claimed his dragon.)

 RELATIONSHIPS 

HELAENA TARGARYEN is your best friend. When you came to Ward for Alicent, she was a girl your age and two of you instantly clicked. You are this person who knows of people’s boundaries and Helaena appreciates that so much! Not many people really understand, but you do. The two of you were playmates and would share beds with one another as children. I am also a firm believer she was your first kiss because the two of you wanted to know how it felt!

ALICENT HIGHTOWER is the closest thing you have to a mother. She could never really touch or talk to her own daughter so she almost took you as your own, sharing a deep fondness for you. You are her second cousin’s daughter, making you blood. Instead of going to her kids and looking after them, she puts most of her love in you and Aemond. She also paired you with her son after learning your affection for him. 

CREGAN STARK is your cousin from your Father’s side. The two of you were raised as children side by side and many had expected that there would be an engagement between you. Afterall, marrying cousins to one another in Winterfell was the norm. The boy had been so sad when you left for King’s Landing, but he promised that when you come back, he will marry you! (His heart was broken when he heard of your and Aemond’s marriage)

LUCERYS STRONG is someone you aren’t fond of. While he was an adorable child, the bitter part of you began to hate him when he took out Aemond’s eye. And everyone was blaming Aemond? That made your blood boil. While a part of you was sad from his death, a voice at the back of your head was rejoicing. 

AEGON TARGARYEN definitely flirted with you when you were younger before he decided that he should let his younger brother have a chance. The two of you often argue with one another, but end up laughing it off. And the arguments are also really silly! It’s usually you calling him lazy or a whore and him defending himself in a mocking manner. 

[duckapus]

In Deep: part 1

As the airship drifts above the waters of Lily's Zone, Eggman stands near the helm checking something on his tablet, "...Alright, if the Wonder Detector I rigged up is working properly, we should be approaching the drop point soon."

"Roight sir, Oy'll get us ready then." Bomberto then raises his voice, "All hands, prepare ta switch ta aquatic mode!"

As the minions and Badniks get to work and the ship slowly descends, Kamek addresses the main group (or at least the ones that are there. Tari's understandably still belowdecks and Toadsworth was taking a nap last anyone knew), "Alright, I can only use so many waterbreathing spells before running low on magic, and for some reason I never got around to learning the version you can cast on yourself, so not everyone can be on the away team this time."

Predictably, Toad decides to do a peace-out fade-out immediately.

"...Right. Who else?" he looks over at the kids, where Lil Coding is already glaring in defiance, "Definitely you two, I may not know much about all this code nonsense but I have seen what happens if you two get wet."

"Seriously? You can make people breathe underwater and turn an entire kingdom into a disco dance party but you can't make two kids waterproof for a few hours?"

"Even Boopkins can make people breathe underwater, sonny, and the disco spell took a lot of preparation and an external power source, plus it was technically a meme. To make you waterproof even temporarily I would have to bypass a fundamental flaw in the foundation of your code, and in case you hadn't noticed, I'm not a computer programmer!"

Coding looks like he's about to argue further, but SMG4 puts a hand on his shoulder and kneels down to look him in the eyes, "Hey, I know your worried about Lily and your Papa. So am I. But I'd really prefer you not get hurt if we can avoid it, and getting mad at Kamek won't change the fact that staying on the ship is the only way to avoid it right now."

He huffs in frustration, then relaxes and hugs his dad, "Just make sure you come back, alright? Don't die or get turned into a fish on me."

"It's a promise."

They pull back apart after a few moments, then Root grabs a still-upset Lil Coding's hand and starts leading him away, "come on, let's go see if Tari's up for playing Mario Kart or something."

Juliano pats 4's shoulder, "I'll keep an eye on them."

"Thanks."

As the ship lands in the water, Kamek looks over the group again, which now consists of SMG4, Mario, Meggy, the Bobowskis, Cubot (who's coming because he doesn't actually need to breathe at all), and Sig, "That's everyone then?"

There's scattered affirmations, and he nods, "Alright then, Cubot's running the Wonder Detector program Eggman made using the Seed we got from Bowser, so he'll be guiding you. This is the Zone we have the least information on, so stay together if you can and keep your wits about you."

After he casts the spell, Meggy looks over the side, "So, do you just throw us overboard, or what?"

A nearby Hammer Bro shakes his head, "Oh, we don't have to do that!" He gestures over to a raised gap in the railing where an Eggpawn pulls a lever that deploys what seems to be a retractable wooden diving board. "We've got a plank!"

"...Sweet." She runs over to it and calls out to 4, Mario and Bob, "Hey guys, rate my dive!"

As she uses the plank as a springboard to fucking leap ten feet in the air and do a bunch of twists and flips while the boys obediently prepare scorecards, Marcy's eye twitches, "Oh goddesses, I'm the Sane One on a Zero Braincell Squad Adventure."

Sig just shrugs, "Eh, can't be worse than a Tuesday back home."

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Soon enough, the whole group is in the water and swimming towards their destination, passing by all sorts of marine life, sunken ruins (some of which are very obviously transformed versions of familiar locations), and the occasional Ocean-related Meme along the way. After they go past versions of Spongebob and Patrick dancing to that one weird lousy cover of Under the Sea, Marcy notices a dark shape out the corner of her eye and turns with sword raised...but nothing's there.

"You alright sis?"

"..." she huffs and goes back to swimming, "Fine. It's just been too quiet around here."

"Yeah, weird that we haven't seen anyone converted yet. Things never go this smoothly for us."

"Hm."

In the back of the group, oblivious to this conversation, Mario dumbly stares at a school of small Cheep-cheeps, "Hey, I'm-a hungry." He swims up behind the fish, mouth open wide, and-

"Mario!" he looks away to see Meggy waving him forward, the group further ahead than before, "Come on, we can't get separated, remember? We'll get something to eat back on the ship."

"Mmm!" he pouts and crosses his arms, then rolls his eyes and swims after her, camera staying focused on the cheep-cheeps "Fine!"

...And then of course he quickly slides back over all sneaky-like and reaches out a hand, "Maybe just one for the road..."

Before he can get his fishy snack or Meggy can notice what he's doing, something long and thin shoots past behind him, and he spins around to see, "Wha?"

Another passes behind him, this time in the foreground, and skewers the fish he'd been trying to grab. He turns again, and now that it's stuck in the fish he can see that it's a silver harpoon-like spear. He grabs it and turns to face the others.

"Uh, guys!?"

The rest of the group looks at his find curiously, then more harpoons come and they quickly dodge. Meggy and the Bobowskis get ready to fight, 4 and Cubot start freaking out, and Sig...well, he looks slightly more focused than usual.

There's a few tense moments as they try to figure out where the attacks are coming from, then Meggy sees something heading towards them, "Over there!"

She fires at the approaching figure, who deflects it with their weapon and reveals themself to be Heavy Squid with green-tinged arms, some vaguely roman-looking armor hastily plastered onto his model, and harpoons sticking out the barrels of his Heavy Splatling, "Oh no..."

He's just the first of several similarly armored, aquatically redesigned characters to appear, and soon the group's being swarmed. They do their best, with Meggy and the twins displaying their usual skill, Mario being Mario, Sig alternating between throwing out spells and smacking people with his demon arm, and SMG4 and Cubot...flailing around pathetically (it's the thought that counts), but they're quickly overwhelmed and captured due to their superior numbers and adaptation to the terrain.

"Hey! What's-a going on here!?"

Heavy Squid calls back over his shoulder, "Admiral! Intruders captured!"

A familiar voice answers, causing the group (besides Sig and Cubot) to gasp in shock, but none louder than 4, "Good work, Captain Heavy. I'll be sure to inform her Majesty of your squad's stellar performance."

The Admiral swims up to meet them...and it's just as they feared.

"SMG3!?"

He points his trident at 4's face, "Quiet, surface dweller! I don't know how you know my name, but as the Admiral of the Undersea Kingdom Royal Guard I am not to be addressed so casually, especially by a mere prisoner. Especially a pathetic scrub like you seem to be."

4 just nervously nods his head and keeps quiet, because how the hell is he supposed to RESPOND to this situation!?

"Now, come. Our queen has ordered us to bring you before her."

And with that, Admiral 3 and his men swim off, roughly dragging the group with along with them.

Cubot chuckles nervously, "Well, at least we're still going the right way..."

Everyone else just groans.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

After a few minutes, they come to a city inhabited by more converted characters. They group can't help but notice that certain parts of it look eerily similar to the abandoned fair equipment in the Showgrounds, which honestly makes sense considering what little they do know about this Zone. Between that and the apparent memory issues of the Undersea Kingdom's inhabitants, 4 has a terrible sinking feeling that's getting worse the closer they get to 3's "queen."

Eventually they get to the castle, which looks almost but not quite recognizable thanks to how much larger it's become and the new Roman-and-Zora-Inspired Open-Air (or water) design, though amusingly the hat-shaped roof is still intact. They're led to what's supposed to be 4's room and is now an open-air throne room with his desk chair converted into an empty throne too large for any human, let alone the child they're expecting by now, and the group is forced to kneel in the center of the room by their captors (apart from Cubot since he doesn't have any legs, so he's just forced to stop floating) while 3 takes a position to the right of the throne.

"The queen will decide your fate when she arrives, surface dwellers. Pray to whatever gods you have that she is merciful."

A few moments later, a green goomba with a fancy hat enters the room and blows into a conch shell, which ends up sounding like a trumpet, "Presenting her royal Majesty, Sovreign Ruler of the Undersea Kingdom, Queen Sonata!"

A massive, but still rather young-looking, green-and-blue mermaid swims in from behind her throne and sits down.

Mario leans over to 4 and whispers, "Well, we wanted to know if she was okay. Can't get much better than 'Literally Royalty'."

4's too shocked by everything that's happening to even glare in response.

[ybblue]

Your Boyfriend, Blue

I'm fleshing out what my YB is like since I'm rather fond of the idea everyone has a unique YB just for them. Feel free to keep reading!

Stats:

Nickname: Blue Age: 29 Pronouns: He/Him Skin Color: Blue Eye Color: Blue Hair: He has short hair!

In this universe, everyone is a 'blurbo,' which I am defining here to mean "blob-like character," where your hair/skin tend to match colors, people can be any color, and everyone is even more cartoonishly drawn than normal.

YB, himself, appears much more docile and soft, filling the role of a sub male yandere. YB in this universe is named Blue by his Y/N.

Myers-Briggs Type: ESFJ (extraverted, observant, feeling, judging) Core Traits: Warm Affection, Energetic, Detail-Orientated Flaws: Obsessive, Insecure, Hesitant Quirks: Stalker, Pop Culture Nerd, Aspiring YouTuber

While most YB are antisocial, Blue is really great at fitting in and hiding his antipathy from people around him. He knows you need people to survive, and he makes due. (In a meta sense, he was born later than his counterparts in the other universes and has seen what being a vicious asshole gets you in the end - your Y/N's hatred!)

Blue knows he has a lot of natural charisma and puts it to work. He is very extraverted and people tend to like him. Given how much practice he has put into his façade, Blue is quite good at convincing others that he likes them and he can get along with practically anyone.

Random Factoids:

(As spoken in his voice.)

"I'd have to say my favorite color is purple. Why? No reason. I just like the color." (His Y/N has purple skin in this world.)

"Mmm, favorite food, now we're talking! It's so hard to pick just one thing, you know? If I want to sound sophisticated, I should say I like something fancy, maybe something French? But, if I'm being honest with you, the minute I smell movie theater popcorn, I go feral."

"Naturally, my favorite book changes all the time, but most recently I read This Is How You Lose the Time War by Amal El-Mohtar and Max Gladstone, and it's blown me away. There's just something about the way those two characters love each other... It's beautiful, and I relate to it, though I don't think I can really explain why. I heard about the book from some guy on Twitter named Bigolas Dickolas."

"So, everyone has a favorite movie, right? Really, it's more like a comfort movie. It's a movie you watch that always cheers you up or just reminds you of the best things in life. There's this silly little movie called Densha Otoko, Train Man in English. It's this Japanese flick that's supposedly based on a true story of some guy who saved a girl from being harassed on a train. He falls in love with the girl, but he's too shy to ask her out. Random people on the internet on a more wholesome version of 4ch*n basically cheer lead him into asking the girl out. Really, the whole movie is sweet. It always lifts my spirits when I see it."

"There's only four seasons, but all of them are pretty good in my opinion. Just when you get fed up with one season, the next one is just around the corner. I guess, gun to my head, I'd pick winter, but I can't really explain why that is. Winter just seems... and pardon my pun... like the coolest time of year. Everything is dark, things are dying, and honestly the cold is used to represent a lot of villains in stories. But, on the flip side, winter is when most people have a lot of holidays and get togethers and the like. Not that I experienced it for myself yet... but, I think winter might be the best season because its easier to justify snuggling up with your partner. Just thinking about pulling someone close under the blankets while you watch a cliché holiday movie... doesn't that sound like fun?"

"Dogs! I love dogs for sure. They are so loyal, you know? Supposedly if you kick a dog, it will still love you, not that I'm advocating for that, but I just think its fascinating for a creature to love so unconditionally. Maybe its weird, but I relate to that a little bit."

Well, that's all I have for now. I really like Blue a lot, so I'll probably post some more random stuff. I might even make an attempt to draw random comic stuff with him in it.

[cuephrase]

okay hi! I was the one who asked about how you get into comics cuz they're confusing and intimidating 😭 your answer was super helpful! I've been making a list as well as starting off with some like 'non-canon' stuff. (ig thats what its called? not main continuity)

I have another question though! I always see fans talk about liking and disliking different writers - are there any you personally like/ should stay away from? I always hear people complain about tom taylor specifically 😭

oh hi!! i'm so glad my answer was helpful, goal achieved!! yeah, i'd call it not main continuity, bc they are canon in their own little spheres...the licensed AUs. even if they're not main continuity, i think they can go a long way in easing you in/keeping you engaged as you brave the more intimidating aspects of comics.

WFA was that for me, actually. (which. ik is grounds to get me shot/invalidate every comic opinion i could ever have in some circles, but tbh i care a lot less about the opinions of people that uptight about this franchise than i used to, and i'm much happier for it. something can be flawed and still be fun, yk?)

BUT- to answer your question:

full transparency, while i am great with names irl, as far as comics go i drowned myself in so much content that i missed a tonnnn of names, and i've only really started learning names recently + they tend to be names of newer/current authors. for awhile i actually knew more artists names, believe it or not.

that being said, okay. hmmm.

so overall: writers that you're going to hear about a lot will fall into like, 2.5 groups, sort of a venn diagram. they are- Controversial, Loved, and Current. Current is the .5 group, because it overlaps with the other two. in my experience, you will hear about Controversial and Current the most- Loved is going to have like a few names that are just generally well-received, not that some people won't like them but like the majority is rocking with them.

some names you might hear a lot include

Devin Grayson

Chuck Dixon

Scott Lobdell

Tom King

Tom Taylor

Geoff Johns

there're almost definitely more but like, that's who immediately comes to mind.

writers will be Controversial for a range of reasons, but their writing being bad/unpopular is not the only reason.

i think knowing why people dislike an author can be super useful, i think meta is really interesting. but i personally have never avoided reading something purely off of the writer alone for two reasons, those being-

i like to form my own opinions. even if i think i'll probably agree, i like to experience it for myself so that i get full context.

with the exception of one writer (that ik by name), every writer that i've read and been like "wow i don't like this", they've written something else that i've enjoyed.

i said this in a response to a different ask, (about tom taylor actually lmao), but-

if you're interested in reading [tom taylor's] run, you should. other people disliking a run is like...idk if this is going to make sense, but it's kind of like knowing the weather. you'll be like "hey, there's rain" and then you can either a) choose not to go outside, b) grab a coat and umbrella, or c) pull on a swimsuit and go dance. no wrong choices! maybe you get outside and it's more of a light drizzle, or maybe it's basically a tropical storm and you book it back inside and start batting down the hatches.

basically, what i'm trying to get at is, if something looks interesting to you, i don't want you to be put off or feel bad for being interested (or even liking it, if you try it out!!) bc you've seen that some people seem to really dislike the writer.

on the flip side, reading stuff going into it thinking "everyone loves this!!" can be it's own problem, especially if you're new to comics, bc if you don't like it, you might be discouraged. like case in point, tom taylor's nightwing run was super hyped up for me so when i got to it and was underwhelmed i was like, oh. it made me wonder if i was missing something/reading them wrong, and also, like if everyone loves this and i don't, will i like comics? (hell yeah i would, i love comics but damn if i didn't get skeptical for a hot minute there.)

now to answer your question about writers i like/would stay away from:

i....don't really know.

like okay, i'm really enjoying the Batman/Superman: World's Finest run a whole lot rn, right, and that's written by Mark Waid. i already had Impulse on my tbr, but i was more excited to read it when i found out Waid was the writer, because of how much i enjoy B/S:WF.

or like Chip Zdarsky. pretty sure tumblr hates him, but i personally really enjoy his batman run, i like it so much actually, not that i think it's perfect, but omg does all the hate entertain me, and i really liked his jason & bruce story in Batman: Urban Legends, and i have Batman: The Knight on my tbr and i was more excited to read it when i saw that he wrote it.

however, if i saw them attached to a project that didn't immediately interest me, whether bc of the characters or concept, i wouldn't check it out just because they're writing it, yk? somewhere along my comics reading journey i may find writers like that, but i haven't yet.

(also the only reason ik their names is because they're writing current runs that i'm following lmao)

and it's kind of the inverse with writers who i'm not fond of, where if the project interests me, i'll check it out anyways, heaving a big sigh as i do.

i do plan on paying more attention to writers, bc i'm curious to see who i tend to like/dislike and why. like since i just finished reading through all of the Nightwing runs, i plan on ranking the writers once Tom Taylor's run wraps up, just for fun.

but yeah!! ik which runs i like/don't like and why, and that's about it.

idk if this was helpful at all, i'm lowkey afraid it wasn't, but hopefully it was!!

tysm for asking, and as always, i'm more than happy to answer any other questions you may have!! my inbox/dms are open 🫶🏼

[arcplaysgames]

PICTURED: Reverie moments before burning down Futaba's uncle's house.

I love how this game has flipped me from "i'm not cool with killing Kamoshida" to "i'm gonna slash tires of everyone who even looks at Sojiro funny"

AND THAT IS A PRACTICAL LESSON IN WHY PERSONAL JUSTICE IS FLAWED, TIP YOUR WAITERS

Morgana has a dream/nightmare/vision of his Shadow Self, who is also cat-shaped. Which, one, Morgana popping a Shadow right now would make so much sense tbh given his issues.

Two, he is so fucking distressed about this.

THIS IS SO FUCKING SAD. Morgana, I am on your side, bruh, this sucks so much. Morgana is trying to keep cool but is asking probing questions about if Reverie would still accept him if he was some kind of creature and just.

I feel for Morgana so much, idgaf, come at me.

/breathes out slowly

almost done with Moon. almost done. one more level up and we're DONE with Mishima.

OH. BEE TEE DUBS.

Mishima adds a feature to the Phansite where people can nominate victims for the Thieves. And yeah I said victims, because this is absolutely fucked eight ways to sunday, this is so beyond the pale, why are you SUCH an idiot, Mishima?!

if the Thieves end up hitting someone purely bc their won a popularity poll on the fucking site i s2g

MY PATIENCE FOR RYUJI

IS LITERALLY

AT ZERO.

I cannot fucking deal with how much I want to kick him out of the group, I am screaming inside. If there was a summary of "bad reasons to be a vigilante" he's using it as a fucking checklist.

it is only the process of Reverie being adopted by the Sakuras that is getting me through the darkness right now. Sojiro, I formally apologize for making fun of you at the start of this liveblog, you and Yusuke are the only people I can rely on right now. Please yes I would like some sushi, can I have a tekka don.

THAT IS MY LITTLE SISTER FOLKS

playing this fucking game is like being beaten with a whiffle ball bat and then being handed one (1) treat, over and over

Futaba did such a good job at the beach that she.... does what all people with weird brain stuff do, and we take one victory and immediately overexert ourselves and fuck up the next thing. Like, FOR REAL, relatable, I have BEEN THERE, i was there in the past TWO WEEKS baby.

So Futaba needs back-up in her journey to relearn how to exist int he world, and Reverie is raring to go.

I love her.

lmao the cut to Sae like "HM REPORTS CLAIM THAT YOU ACQUIRED A OLDER BROTHER-LY DEMEANOR BEGINNING IN THE MONTH OF AUGUST. CARE TO EXPLAIN YOURSELF???? BITCH?"

yeah obvsly

back in My Favorite Confidant Link, Kawakami actually calls Reverie in to tell him the exciting news, that she stood up for herself and told the Takases' she wasn't going to pay them anymore and was going to quite her side job to return to her passion for teaching.

Which: thrilling. So happy for her.

AND THEN THE TAKASES SHOW UP.

yanno. it's interesting that the game flat out says "sex worker" I was not anticipating that level of clarity about Kawakami. and given even modern standards and attitudes towards SWers, I'm relieved to see that the Villains of this story are the ones trying to use her status as a sex worker to ruin her life. Because, yeah, that's villainous behavior, Persona! I'm glad we agree on this.

Yeah fuck subtlety tbh, let's wreck these fools. They'll be lucky if Reverie only steals their hearts.

ALSO:

I THINK SHE KNOWS

i also think sojiro knows but that's neither here nor there. Sojiro has proven he can be extremely subtle.

oh the Big Bads are gonna kill the principal aren't they

they're gonna do the mental shutdown on him for being a failure, that's why he's so scared huh

bye bye i guess??????

[displayheartcode]

1, 3, 7, and 22 for Emmett and Rosu!! <3

1. What memory would your OC rather just forget?

Emmett would love to forget the dull haze he was in after his childhood best friend was murdered. Imagine, you’re twelve and goofing off as you sneak into the fairgrounds, and while getting lost in a corn maze, you’re both dragged into a hellish pocket dimension where only one of you returns alive. Now, you’re the weird local kid related to a strange disappearance and you don’t know how to tell people that it was monsters.

On the flip side, Rosu would love to forget how badly he fumbled telling his high school girlfriend that A. he’s not human and B. Their town resides in a Bridgewater Triangle. Thanks to his poor communication, Marisol slid him a copy of Twilight for clarification.

3 . What is your OC's fatal flaw? Are they aware of this flaw?

Rosu has the mentality of My way is the only correct choice. This is my moral high ground and I don’t care what the personal cost is.

Emmett lets his insecurities get the best of him, causing him to miss out on things like FRIENDSHIP and BEING SOCIAL. He is a clenched fist of repressed emotions.

7. What's one way your OC has changed since you first came up with them?

Emmett is a relatively new OC compared to others. The core of him has stayed the same since conception: a character that stays human, acts as the moral center of the cast, and is incredibly tired and Jewish. The cerebral palsy is the only new addition because I want more disability rep in the genre!

With Rosu, I like playing with the sliding scale of his selfishness. How much of his humanity is he willing to sacrifice, and because of that, how does he embrace (and detest) his growing vampirism. This is a character who wants to live but knows what the consequences are.

22. What character alignment would you consider your OC to be?

Emmett was thrown headfirst into knowing that gods and monsters are real. After avenging his friend’s murder, he struggles to figure out what he should do next, but his personal code of I must help those who feel powerless remains at the center. He’s lawful good.

Rosu is a slippery bastard and has also killed people. He understands that the normal laws of justice don’t apply to the supernatural, and that tough calls have to be made. (ex: He’s on Team Murder for complex cases while Emmett is Team There’s a Third Option We Have to Try.) Growing up with a witch for a mother, he knows the old rules and likes to find ways to twist them to his advantage – even as these prohibitions are placed on him the more powerful he becomes. He skirts between chaotic neutral and chaotic good.

ask me about my OCs

[sunsetrules]

okay but how are the people that are so willing to crap on Damian for being the little tsundere stink he is able to take the entirety of their unbridled anger out onto this little man without having the self-awareness to actually sit with the fact that the dude is six years of age????

like, even if we were to set aside the fact that irl most young children have NO grasp on their feelings whatsoever and are only as emotionally mature as they've been taught to be/as their still growing, still developing (emphasis on STILL DEVELOPING!!!) brains will allow them to be... small Desmond is literally trying to work out why his mommy and daddy can't take a minute out of their lives to see him when his classmates' parents can afford to take HOURS, while also simultaneously trying to maintain the facade of the perfect independent self-sufficient son that doesn't need to rely on anyone or anything ever...???? like just????

preschoolers struggle to work through stupid shit like learning to share or dealing with getting their ipad taken away- can you imagine the toll this constant back and forth swing of contradictory emotion (oscillating between his Second Son "Scion" I-Can-Do-No-Wrong exterior and the flawed, imperfect, undeserving son he internalises himself to be in private, alongside having to battle and shame himself for the very legitimate and innate need for comfort, love, and security that a child his age REQUIRES for a healthy upbringing?????) will take over time on a person??

even ADULTS would struggle to juggle all that crap- how do you expect a literal PRESCHOOLER to be able to do so??? in a healthy way that doesn't impact his behaviour and personality and mental health, no less???

trauma fucks people up beyond repair; it eats at you until you are unrecognizable- a hollow shell of your former self... the consistent absence (and by extent, emotional neglect) of both of his parents to this end, is a kindof ongoing trauma that only serves to make what was bad worse.

like i get where people are trying to come from with the "don't excuse his circumstances for his mentality when HE chooses how to act" perspective, and in almost any other case I actually do take this side because yes, while trauma does not make nice people, it is ultimately up to the afflicted to decide whether they want to let this trauma impact them and assume agency over their person for the rest of their lives. however.

VEEEEERY BIG HOWEVER!

in this specific case... this just isn't applicable!!! again, as I've said earlier,,,,, Damian is a preschooler,,,,, he is an intelligent little fucker, that I don't deny, but scientifically speaking, his brain is simply not developed enough to process the complexities of what exactly is going on to him, and how the behaviour of those around him influences his own subconsciously. this isn't just a matter of flipping a switch, of actively making the choice to not let your trauma influence you and act on your own will- he legitimately is not actively conscious of the fact that he "chooses" to act in the way he does; he has no healthy role model to follow, no support system, no one to fall back on should he stumble.

man even Ewen and Emile, who i hesitate to call his friends, act more like his lackeys than they do genuine companions (and although these relationships are probably the healthiest he has at the moment), it ultimately means that in the eventuality he needs someone to confide in, he... doesn't really have anyone. i mean, he has his butler, but does that really count, considering Damian is most likely aware the man is paid to spend time with him (and as much as that shouldn't affect what seems to be a pleasant mutual relationship, it kindof does lol???? like how would you feel realising your only friend is literally forced to hangout with you?????)

i need some of y'all to wake the fuck up- try to picture going through every single day of your life wondering which flaw, which ineptitude; which FAILING of yours shamed your parents into recluse and (practically) had them decide that ZERO contact was the way to go???? WITH THEIR FUCKING SIX YEAR OLD???

bffr. be so fucking fr rn.