#so seeing him be shitty and fail as an adult and still become a better person meant I wasn't doomed if I messed up

[cookiekitkat8484]

It has come to my attention that people who haven't read the comics don't realise Wallace was the one who harassed scott into being his friend. Like he saw that nerd at uni and went oh yeah that's my guy now. This bitch would not shut up and showed up at his house uninvited to hang out till scott gave in and befriended him, then they got suuuper drunk and scott let him crash at his. He comes to family dinners, is best friends with his sister, and chats to his mum.

He despises envy more than anything and is furious when she tries to mess with his life again and scott gets hurt, so he cooks him breakfast and comforts him. He coaches scott in fighting and helps with strategies so he doesn't get his ass kicked. He bullies him to leave the house because there's a heatwave and he wants to make sure he doesn't get heatstroke. Like they're close enough Wallace walks around in his underwear (though scott whines about it).

I've seen people assume Wallace supports scott out of pity but that man is a bitch and morally questionable (affectionate), I do not think he would put up with it at all if he didn't want him around, especially given he can barely afford to support them both. When they stop living together he doesn't just kick him out it's because their landlord kicks them out, he actively enchorages scott to move in with Ramona out of care for him and offers to stay with him if he needs it, though ends up signing a lease with his boyfriend (in his defence scott didn't ask for him to stay and decided to try make things work with Ramona) but still let's him stay at the new apartment with them when Ramona kicks him out.

Yeah he's mean to scott sometimes and makes fun of him/is brutally honest but he basically became part of Scott's family and part of that is calling people out when they're being a total jackass and teasing them, he's that kinda guy and scott knows that he doesn't actually hate him or something. Yeah scott will do puppy dog eyes if he wants something but wallace is frequently nice to him on his own initiative and scotts not a suck up to Wallace, he can be a bitch right back at him.

They're a really important part of each other's lives. though I can understand people not familiar with the characters who watched the show thinking Wallace doesn't care about scott being gone, literally all the characters reacted super casually. Bryan has tried to clarify his way of trying to cope is him "being a jerk"/disconnecting/acting apathetic. Also in the show o'malley basically confirms Wallace had feelings for scott and that was why he had the affair with Todd and you can quote him on that, aswell as scott admitting how they became roomates was "somewhat gay" in the comics, so there's definitely some weird more than friends emotional mess tied in there.

comic panels i reference under the cut

TLDR wallace lives with him because he cares about him, whether you read that as still somewhat romantic or now platonic, with either interpretations fitting better with different versions of the story

[eddiemunsonw]

Snow Storm

Steve Harrington x Fem!reader

Summary: You're on a 'date'. Sort of. You're really not feeling it, especially when you realize that the guy has been lying. Steve, witnessing it all during his shift at Family Video, is more than happy to meddle a little.

CW/Disclaimer: Hmmmm things start to get a little heated and sexy but nothing too dramatic. So... idk. Mention of porn?

Author's note: I have a tendency to post fics out of their season, it seems

Words: 3435

Steve’s POV

He watched as your eyes followed the section of horror movies slowly, scanning each title to try and remember if you had seen them before. Next to you, a guy stood impatiently as he eyed the curtain that separated the adult section. Steve watched with interest, as it was all that was currently happening in the store apart from a regular who looked into the slapstick classics on the other side.

“Come on, I just wanna see.”

The guy sighed, nudged you with his arm. You were having none of it and Steve couldn’t help but wear an amused smile. Eventually, when you had picked out two movies, you followed him towards the curtain. Steve, feeling particularly menacing today, quickly left the counter and approached the curtain just in time.

“Hello there! ID’s please.”

He held his hand open and you took it out immediately, showing that you were 23, a year younger than he was. When the guy handed it over with some reluctance, his curiosity piqued.

“Oof, sorry dude, can’t let you in. It’s 21+”

“What? Since when?” the guy responded, but Steve clocked something much more interesting.

“Clark… You said you were 24. Jesus this is why I never wanna say my age first,” you groaned and rolled your eyes. Steve bit down on his lip to stop himself from smiling, but it was too hard not to.

“Damn, why’d you have to lie to the lady? That’s not cool,” Steve added on.

Your POV

“You weren’t supposed to know. Now come on,” Clark mumbled and attempted to pass the curtain but Steve quickly moved in between, the smooth glide of his body grabbing your attention.

“Still a no, Bud.”

You were already tired of his pushy behavior earlier, so while Steve had him occupied, you entered the adult section. You didn’t even want to go in there, but it was better than staying.

“Grab some deepthroating! And some lesbian porn?”

Steve’s POV

Steve shook his head at him as he leaned against the wall right next to the curtain.

“Jesus, dude. Are you trying to make her run away from you even harder?”

“Shut up,” Clark grumbled, side eyeing him with annoyance.

“Hm, no,” Steve said, a small smile on his face. “Not for a pipsqueak like you.”

“Oh fuck off, says the failed jock whose daddy no longer funds him so he has to do a shitty job like this one, the highlight of his day being to be a total asshole to a guy trying to have sex with a girl.”

Steve stared ahead of him, taking a deep inhale before replying.

“Yeah. Sure. That’s a neat description of you and me both. Emphasis on the trying.”

“The day’s not over yet.”

“Oh but it is, pipsqueak. Cause you’re gonna turn around and leave now.”

They looked at each other, eyes dark and challenging. Steve wasn’t sure what came over him. He just knew that he needed to do you the favor of getting rid of him.

“The hell I am,” Clark bristled.

Steve chuckled darkly. Woah, when did he become this super villain huh? Hmm. Interesting.

“Oh you are. She wants you gone and so do I.”

“You don’t know shit about what she wants.”

“Let me go ask,” Steve said as his hand lazily slid the curtain aside. “What’s her name again?” he asked, pretending like he hadn’t checked your name on your ID. He didn’t wait for his answer and walked behind the curtain despite his protests. This, however, made him miss out on the emergency alert on the radio.

“We interrupt your favorite tunes for an important message. The blizzard is getting worse. If you haven’t yet, go home. Chances are you won’t be able to if you wait much longer.”

Clark, however, did. Besides, he wasn’t that much of an idiot. He knew he had lost his chances with you the moment he tried to get you to grab his favorite porn videos. Whatever.

Your POV

“So… see anything you like?”

His voice startled you, but at the same time it was met with relief from your end that it wasn’t Clark. Steve slowly walked closer and quickly noticed you didn’t seem interested in any of it in the slightest and chuckled.

“Or are you just planning to stay here forever until he leaves?”

You shrugged.

“Something like that. Also, you don’t just ask a lady about her favorite porn, Harrington.”

Delighted by your response, he cocked his hip against the wall as he crossed his arms with a grin.

“I mean… we both already know Clark’s…” Steve said jokingly, earning a smile from you.

“All men are the same,” you sighed. Steve pouted and scanned the titles for something interesting.

“You say that now but… wait until you find out that my favorite is actually… Granny getting a— nope, nope, forget I started that sentence,” Steve said quickly as he put back the tape he just had in his hands.

“All the grannies over the world are crying right now,” you said sadly, a smile on your lips.

“Too bad, I’ve set my eye on girls who actually are the age they say they are.”

“I’ll admit that’s the most interesting belated opening line I’ve ever heard,” you said dryly.

“As long as it catches your intrigue, I’m satisfied,” Steve said with a playful, cocky grin.

You grabbed a tape and smirked, holding it out for him.

“So I’m guessing you don’t need yourself a… Satisfyer 2.0, then?” You asked, holding up the tape which had sensual “instructions” for a vibrator.

Steve laughed and shook his head.

“These satisfy just fine,” Steve said, holding up his hands. Your mind drifted off to what he could do with those big hands. Not just to himself but to—

“… left?”

Steve had apparently just asked you a question.

“Huh?”

He smirked and nodded towards the curtain.

“I think he left. Just heard the bell above the door.”

“Maybe someone came in though…” you wondered out loud.

“Maybe. I’ll go check.” He spun on his heel and approached the curtain when—

“Wait—” It was out before you knew it. Steve halted, turned back around and looked at you patiently.

“Yeah?”

“If he is in fact not gone, can you… get rid of him somehow? I normally wouldn’t ask but he’s just such a—”

“Dick.”

“Yeah…” You smiled a small smile and watched as he approached you again. His eyes were on you, taking in even the smallest changes in your expression.

“So is he like… your boyfriend?” Steve asked softly. “Or uh, was?”

You chuckled and shook your head.

“Nah, this was the second date which I had reluctantly agreed to.”

“Why’d you say yes?” Steve asked curiously. He followed your movement as you skimmed some more tapes and smiled at the playfully quipped corner of your mouth. “I mean, it didn’t look like you wanted to be here.”

“I didn’t. I just… I kind of never said yes but he just showed up on my doorstep and then I felt too bad to not go with him, so… yeah. Didn’t know he had plans to rent some porn and spend the second date in his bedroom or whatever.”

Steve crossed his arms and nodded thoughtfully.

“Hmmh… yeah that sucks. Well, I’ll make sure there won’t be a next time,” he said as he shortly winked at you and once again turned on his heel, this time actually continuing his walk through the curtain. He was out there for a few minutes when he turned back with a frown.

“Uh… Y/N? We’ve got a little… hiccup.”

You approached him with a frown of your own and followed him to the front, unsure what to expect. What you certainly didn’t expect, was to see a snow storm going on outside.

“Apparently there’s a code red. Just heard a repeat of it on the radio but it keeps breaking up. They urge everyone to stay inside until it’s over.”

Steve stuffed his hands into his pockets and stared ahead. It was the worst storm he had ever witnessed and the fact that nothing had seemed to be going on apart from some gentle snowfall surprised him.

“Stay… here?” you asked eventually.

“I mean, yeah? You can’t drive in this weather, it’s too dangerous. So is walking. So…”

“But I can’t just…”

“Hey, I don’t bite,” Steve said softly, nudging your arm with his own. “Besides, Clark seems to have left after all. Maybe he heard the warning and decided to bolt? If so, very nice to let us know as well but I will say that I wasn’t nice to him, so…”

You smirked.

“What did you say to him?”

“Nothing, nothing. I mean, genuinely, I didn’t say much. Just that he had to fuck off, using different wording. He didn’t seem all that ready to leave when I went to look for you though.”

“Oh well, good riddance.”

“Agreed.”

Steve walked forward and locked the door, putting the closed sign up front just in case.

“Let’s go to the back, it’s warmer there. And there’s a coffee machine.”

And so your “Stuck at Family Video with heartthrob Steve Harrington” began.

Once you were settled around the table in the break room, Steve gave you an odd glance. It was hard to figure out what he meant by it, although his frown disappeared the moment he got up from his chair.

“Coffee? Tea? I think we even got a few of those instant hot choc packages,” he offered, his back already turned to you as he searched the cabinets.

“Oh, hot chocolate sounds nice actually. Is it just me or is it… still kinda cold, even here?” you asked hesitantly. Steve nodded ruefully and grabbed two mugs from the cabinet he was currently facing.

“Ah, yeah… it looks like the heating is struggling again. I could kick it to see if it helps but… chances are it’ll get worse.”

“How could it get worse?”

Steve shrugged.

“Beats me, but I’m speaking from experience. Sometimes it does the trick and other times it really, really doesn’t.”

“Let’s not risk it then. At least we have a warm drink, right?”

Steve nodded and grabbed the kettle. You watched him busy himself with putting it on, emptying the hot chocolate powder and grabbing two spoons. He was humming along softly to whichever song he seemed to have stuck in his head and shot you a smile when he caught you looking.

“So what do you usually—”

Suddenly, the room turned pitch dark. You heard Steve swear softly when he shuffled back towards the table and bumped into a chair.

“Uh… okay. That’s… kind of a problem,” he mumbled as he managed to sit back down. “No hot choc I guess, sorry. No… heating either. Maybe we should check how the weather’s doing?” he opted.

“Yeah, sure.”

There was a small strip of light seeping in from the doorway, slowly turning brighter as you adjusted to your surroundings again. Warm fingers teased your arm before your wrist was grabbed and Steve helped you up. As he opened the door, the brightness of the snow outside was almost blinding. The thin windows made it a lot colder at the front, making you shiver as you watched the outside. It wasn’t just snow anymore, as heavy hail rained down, large enough to leave dents into cars. Steve groaned and let go of your wrist.

“Let me check if I can get the power back on,” he mumbled, more to himself than to you. He grabbed a flashlight from below the counter and went to the back again. After a few minutes, he returned, looking apologetic.

“Sorry, nothing. I guess it’s my fault you’re stuck here, huh?” he sighed. “If I hadn’t bothered Clark as much you’d be on your way already. Or if I just… I don’t know. Sorry, I guess.”

“It’s not your fault the weather decided to fuck us over, Steve,” you said with a soft smile which he returned with some hesitance. “What do you usually do for fun around here?”

Steve gave you a wry smile.

“Watch movies?”

“Ah, yeah.”

There was a short silence until Steve clapped in his hands and rubbed them together. “I’ve got this huge blanket in the back, brought it here once because Rob, Robin, my colleague, gets very cold easily so sometimes we’d just huddle under the blanket during breaks and stuff. I think we might as well sit out here, at least it’s light… for now.”

You nodded, smiling as you thought of Robin Buckley. You knew her of course. Not super well, but well enough to know she was nice.

“Yeah, it’s already getting dark, huh? A blanket sounds good though.”

Steve nodded and once again disappeared for a short moment, until he returned with a bright blue blanket, which he partially draped on the floor in front of the counter before he motioned for you to sit down and wrapped it around your shoulders. He joined you after grabbing you both some water and put the other end around his shoulders once he settled down.

“How’s this?”

You were really trying not to let it get to you that you were cozying up to Steve right now. Heat was radiating off of him and it made you wonder if he was actually cold, or if he was basically doing the whole “it’s better to stick together for body warmth” kind of thing. With the addition of clothes, of course.

“It’s nice. Better than without for sure,” you told him softly. Steve’s shoulder brushed yours and soon enough you felt the pressure build up until he was actually resting against you. Not in an uncomfortable way at all. It was really… nice, actually.

“Your parents? Do you think they’ll worry?”

“Ah, no. My mom’s visiting my grandma in another state actually and my dad’s no longer around, so. Doubt he can worry,” you joked lightly. “What about yours?”

Steve snorted, then realized it probably wasn’t all that funny and shrugged.

“Dunno, they’re somewhere in Europe now, I think? So no.”

Another silence. It was by that point that you remembered how little you actually knew about Steve Harrington. Sure, he had been popular in school for some time, and then he wasn’t, and then he graduated. But you had never really talked to him other than giving him a pen or two in English class. You were from different social ladders, really. Although, right now you felt quite equal to him, somehow. Which felt weird, considering he looked like a freshly cut out of a painting model and you were… you. Mr handsome decided to steal you away from your brain, which honestly, was a good thing.

“Hey, wanna play a game?” he asked, peering into your eyes as he leaned forward a little. You watched him with newfound curiosity.

“What kind of game?”

“I spy with my little eye.”

“Isn’t that just called “I spy”?” you wondered aloud.

“Dunno. So. Yes?”

“What else is there, right?”

Steve grinned and rested his head against the counter.

“That’s right. Okay. I spy with my little eye… something green.”

“That tape,” you said as you pointed. Steve leaned into your space, following your hand.

“Which one?”

“The green one.”

“There are maaaany green ones.”

“The green one with… Fuck I can’t read,” you sighed as you tried to squint. Steve laughed warmly, which you could feel the tremble of against your shoulder. “Okay so. The sci-fi shelf, yes? Fifth on the second row.”

“Aaaah, I see it now. Nope!”

“You knew that wasn’t it from the start.”

“I had to make sure.”

“Mhm, sure.”

Steve grinned and nudged you with his shoulder before tapping your thigh with his hand.

“Your turn, your turn!”

He left his hand on your thigh. Oh shit. Yeah, you were totally normal about that. You could still think. You could definitely still find some kind of object that you could use—

“Wait, I didn’t even guess it, how is it my turn?!” you questioned. Steve, who had been looking at… somewhere that wasn’t your eyes, quickly lifted his eyes to meet yours and grinned.

“Right. Guess!” “Your vest?”

“You are absolutely right. See? Your turn.”

“It wasn’t— okay. Hm… I spy with my little eye… something red.”

“Your cheeks.”

“Shut up, my cheeks aren’t red.”

“They are a little.”

“If you keep talking about it, yes, they will turn red.”

“Oh? Is that so?”

Once again Steve leaned forward to look you straight in the eye, this time lifting a hand to cup your cheek gently. “Hm, they’re a little pink at the very least.”

You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks and took his hand off your cheek as you looked away. Steve chuckled softly and turned his hand around so he could grab yours.

“Fine, then… the bike outside?”

“Nope.”

“Damn, I thought that was it for sure. That red blob of paint that Keith never managed to get off the ceiling?”

“That’s it!”

Steve grinned at you and gave your hand a squeeze. For a moment you had forgotten about his hand, too drunk on his animated face. Fuck.

“I spy with my little eye…” Steve turned his head to look at you and smiled. “Something pretty.”

“What?”

“Purple! Purple.”

“My shirt.”

“So clever.”

It was getting darker rapidly and soon enough, even your little game became harder to play. You did some other ones, word games, guessing games, whatever you could think of. The blanket was wrapped closer around you both now, as the store became colder without the heating. You sat hip to hip, your arms a little awkward sometimes although neither of you really minded.

“Would you have stayed here if I hadn’t been around?” you asked softly.

“Hmm, nah, I don’t think so.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t really care if— I mean, I’d only be risking myself in that case.”

“That’s a bad reason. You’re just as important.”

“Am I?” Steve asked, and for some reason you felt like he needed an honest answer.

“Yeah, you are, Steve.”

“Hm…” A beat of silence. “I spy with my little eye… someone pretty.”

“You can’t even see.”

“I’ve memorized her by now.”

“Is it the blonde babe cardboard cutout?”

Steve, not expecting that answer at all, burst out laughing.

“Fuck, no,” a giggle, “it wasn’t.”

“Oh… hm. What about that girl from the ring? Samara?”

“Shush.”

“Or the woman from that movie where—” “Ssshh.”

You felt his hand cup your cheek and it was as if your heart was gonna jump out of your chest at any moment now. His breath tickled your cheek, warm and comfortable against your cold nose. Your lips parted on their own, eyes closing even though there was only an outline of his face to see.

“You sure it’s not the blond babe?” you murmured teasingly.

Steve giggled softly and shook his head, causing the stray strands of his hair to tickle you a little.

“Positive.”

A faint sound of lips being licked, and then his lips brushed against yours. Soft and pliable, eager to taste yours. He hummed softly, pleased, as he pulled you closer. You were easily pulled into his lap as his tongue teased your bottom lip for access. Hands smoothed up and down your waist, the blanket forgotten as your kiss provided enough heat between the two of you. It was silent, save from the gasps and soft, pleasant hums leaving you both. He gently moved his hips while simultaneously guiding yours, a gentle moan leaving him as he found a rhythm. His lips found your neck and your hand made its way into his hair to have something to grasp onto. One hand found the hem of your shirt and he was about to lift it up when—

Brightness. Light. The electricity was back on. Meaning… everyone outside could see you. If there had been anyone, that is. Still, it broke the moment instantly as Steve dropped his hand to your thigh and looked up at you.

“Shit,” he murmured, a lopsided grin on his face. “They really know how to spoil the fun today, huh?”

You smiled down at him and turned around to look outside, one hand resting on his chest for balance.

“Hm… I don’t know. It seems safe to go back home.”

Steve dug his fingers into your hips with eagerness before leaving a soft kiss on your lips.

“Your place or mine?”

end.

If you enjoyed reading this, please know that comments and reblogs are highly appreciated :) Likes are lovely but sadly do nothing to spread the fics around! Help your favorite writers (not saying me - in general) out like that so you can continue to enjoy consuming the free work they put out, it's a win-win.

[spop-romanticizes-abuse]

okay so first off. what does being "full on adults" have to do with disliking a character? like?? are we not allowed to dislike or criticize fiction once we cross the age of eighteen?

secondly, i love how they imply that we hate catra because of some sexist reason, but then lists mostly women among the characters who were immediately forgiven and faced no criticism from the viewers. so maybe it's not people "hating on complex female characters" maybe we just dislike poorly written ones.

and who said people don't hold hordak, scorpia, entrapta, etc accountable for their actions? we do, it's just that catra played a more important role in the story as the main villain and adora's love interest so obviously she's under more scrutiny.

we also see her commit more heinous crimes on screen, unlike scorpia and lonnie who were just following orders and hordak whose crimes were all lipservice. it's a lot easier to like a character who only committed heinous crimes off-screen. again, not justifying hordak's behavior, i just think the writers failed to make him an actual threat.

also i don't know how the nimona comics were but in the movie, ballister and ambrosius did have a relatively healthier relationship than catra and adora. mainly because ambrosius never hurt ballister on purpose and he genuinely felt guilty for his actions. even when he turned on nimona, he did it to protect ballister. he wasn't just using all forms of abuse on his boyfriend just for the fun of it, and excusing it by saying that he had a shitty childhood.

"(...) in terms of Catra, we saw the beginning of her redemption arc but she still worked towards it. She still took time to reflect, give genuine apologies to the Best Friends Squad, and turn around for the better."

i'm sorry? when did she apologize to the best friends squad? because i only remember her giving a half-assed apology to adora. glimmer and bow never got an apology from catra. glimmer especially deserved an apology because catra's actions led to her mother's death. also, i've already talked about how catra didn't actually change for the better and kept repeating her toxic habits, so i trust i don't have to say it again.

i do agree that in azula's case, the hate was more undeserved, mainly because none of her actions were justified by the narrative. and like op said, azula didn't have someone to offer her proper guidance.

(although i have to remind you, ursa never called azula a monster. she disapproved of azula's behavior but the monster part was just how azula perceived it. but i guess you know more about these shows than me, right?)

and that's where catra's actions can't be justified because she got multiple ways out, people in her life were constantly giving her chances, and she still chose to do evil. catra had all the resources she needed to become a better person, she was given opportunity after opportunity from the very first episode, and she still chose to participate in the war and chose to abuse and hurt people.

[deconstructthesoup]

Fantasy High Good Place AU

I am very happy that y'all voted for this, because it's been living in my brain rent-free for the past couple weeks.

So, right off the bat---this is partially self-indulgence, and partially a little exploration of what the Bad Kids would be like as adults if they hadn't found each other... and, well, if they were living in a more mundane world. And, of course, I had to combine and add a couple roles, just to make everyone fit.

Fig: She's in the Eleanor role as the main POV character, and as the first person who decides to learn how to be better. In life, she was a twenty-seven-year-old musician living in Phoenix, Arizona who was still trying to find her big break, and got by via drug-dealing after a string of shitty service jobs. Fig hasn't spoken to her mom in years, even after both Gilear and Gordie (aka Gorthalax) have both died, and she put up a front of selfishness and constant lies due to not trusting anyone and being afraid of being vulnerable. But when she dies and supposedly gets mistaken for a pro-bono death-row lawyer, she realizes that she's gotta ask for help...

Ayda: She's in the Chidi role---a high-strung ethics professor who devoted her life to figuring out the deep secrets of the universe, often at the cost of her own mental health. She's not as indecisive as Chidi, but she's very much of the mindset that ethical standards should always be upholded, and she initially sees nothing wrong with the points system. As Ayda becomes closer to Fig, she starts to pick up on how the system doesn't count for extenuating circumstances, and how much of an actual minefield ethics is... and she starts to reflect on her own life, where she never knew how to connect with others and stayed in her comfort zone of academia. Throughout bonding with the others, she slowly learns how to let her walls down and challenge the system.

Fabian: He's in a Tahani role, as the upper-class socialite who pretty much bought his way into "heaven" and definitely has a bunch of narcissistic tendencies. Unlike Tahani, however, he's very much aware of his own failings, and he constantly stresses about how fragile his standing and happiness is---though, he's become incredibly good at hiding it. Fabian's pretty much been living in the shadow of his late father's legacy for his whole life, and he spent most of that life trying to be just as good, if not better, than him... so, when he supposedly gets into the "Good Place," it's essentially proof that he did everything right. Of course, that still doesn't keep him from feeling like there's something amiss, especially since there's some issues with his assigned soulmate...

Riz: In life, Riz was a P.I. who mostly did petty work for rich people and got used to doing things that were vaguely shady in order to get by. By the time he died, he had a very low opinion of people in general, and had a "dog eat dog" mindset... which was immediately blown out of the water the second he realized that he'd been mistaken for a brilliant secret agent, and he was going to spend his afterlife with a self-centered rich boy as romantic soulmates. Riz being Riz, he immediately started to figure a way out of this situation, eventually finding out Fig---and one other person---and agreeing to take Ayda's ethics lessons if it meant he could earn his spot in the Good Place... though, of course, he's still subconsciously picking up on the little hints that something is off.

Kristen: She's in the "Jason" role... sorta. When she was alive, she was a former member of a conservative Christian cult who left when she was nineteen, spent the next five years trying to find another truth to pursue, and spent the last three years of her life partying her problems away and living high on nihilism. So it was quite a shock for her when, after dying, she supposedly got sent to the Good Place... and only because they thought that she's a humanitarian pastor, and straight to boot. Kristen initially doesn't want to waste time with ethics lessons, but as more and more things start to go wrong, she reluctantly agrees---and ends up reconnecting with that curious, searching part of herself that she thought she'd left behind, over and over again.

Gorgug: When he was alive, he was a physicist who made a lot of impressive discoveries---many of which had the potential to really help people---but due to the fact that he had a lot of issues with standing up for himself and believed himself to not be as smart as he actually was, he tended to let himself get taken advantage of and have other people take credit for his work. Getting into the Good Place kind of confirmed Gorgug's belief that keeping your head down and being humble would pay off eventually... until his assigned soulmate immediately told him that she was a) gay, and b) here by mistake. The two of them do become pretty good friends, and Gorgug even sits in on some of Ayda's ethics lessons, learning a bit about himself as he does.

Adaine: She's Janet---or, rather, an "Oracle," one of many informational assistants made by the Good Place (the Bad Place has Informants, while Accountants have Librarians). Every Oracle is given a name upon being activated in order to distinguish her from others, and, well, hers is Adaine. She starts off as your typical cheery, happy-to-help living Siri, but as time goes on and she gets rebooted over and over again, she starts to form genuine connections with the humans, and with connections come actual feelings... including the rise of mild anxiety. Adaine's grateful for that, though, as she sees becoming more human as an incredible experience.

Aelwyn: Honestly... there was no other character who was bitchy, multifaceted, and weirdly loving enough to be Micheal. At first, underneath her quirky and "cool older sister" angel persona, she's every bit the callous, vindictive, and cruel demon who only lives to torment human souls and prove her worth to her boss. But reboot after reboot, she fails, the humans become closer and figure her out... and she's eventually forced to cave. Aelwyn never fully loses her bitchiness and slightly amoral nature, but she does develop a heart and self-awareness as she becomes friends with the humans---and as she forms a sisterly connection with Adaine. Even a demon can learn to grow.

I have more thoughts, but I've spent a lot of time figuring out how to make this coherent, so... yeah!

[kob131]

So heard of the Teraleaks for Pokemon? NGL Feel really bad about that employee that got phished to have this released. The leak itself was whatever but the hacker outright doxxing them was shitty.

On another note, highlights include Cyrus of Team Galactic being confirmed autistic in his character bio (IIRC they flat out use that exact word too), Beta Lickylicky's full design finally being uncovered, a TON of unreleased Pokemon lore and background being unearthed especially around Arceus, scrapped GameFreak games, and possibly leaks for Pokemon Legends ZA

Also, apparently there's some Pokemon Concept art that's drawn in a very different style than what we know, a lot darker and realistic looking imo. It looks like Gen 3 or 4 was gonna have a different vibe than what we got initially it looks like.

I saw this in passing, let's actually delve into this.-

-Hulk Hogan is partially the inspiration for Drayden

... Not since James being a partial reference point for Homer Simpson have I ever taken such psychic damage in this manner.

-Huh, so Cyrus just might be autistic. Maybe. There seems to have been a community note but it got removed. I dunno. Assuming he is-

I'll take it. He's not a fucking moron like Archie/Maxie, he's not contradictory and boring like Lysandre and he's got some level of depth unlike Giovanni. And yeah, I get it. The conflict of thinking in an excessively logical way but feeling such intense emotions. This is a win.

-I guess those Fakemon designs aren't that bad, considering so many just look like Beta Pokemon.

-That uh...that creation myth was something. Someone in Game Freak is a HUGE mythology nerd cuz that whole thing had the same feeling as learning about the creation myth of Chaos. ALso somewhat implies the pseudo-Legendaries ARE in fact 'pseudo-Legendaries'

Though note- No Giritina mentioned. So this likely isn't canon.

-Yeah, those are some realistic looking concepts. Especially that beta Cacturne. Kinda glad they didn't go this route because A. looks good but doesn't fit Pokemon's style. B. The style we did get was far more cohesive with older Pokemon. And C. Would work better as an independent monster collector built around this concept. As in- Pokemon did NOT need to dominant ANOTHER aspect of monster collecting.

Also not surprising- Gen 4 had a lot of sharper, more adult-like designs like Gallade or Electrivire.

-'A game about raising and fighting bugs. You can also fuse them' Cool concept, Game Freak. If you do this, please do it without using Pokemon. Again, we don't need Pokemon consuming MORE of it's genre. ... Look, I value the distinction between Pokemon and SMT VERY heavily.

-So looks like Pokemon has been eyeing cutting the Pokedex since Gen 3. Reminds me of the Foxacade video where he said something similar (that their best bet to do this was back in Gen 3). Also shows ideas for what would become Mega Evolution, Dynamax and Gholdengo back in 2000.

P.S. 'They tried to make a game simple but included the REGIS?!' Dude, we went from themes of letting go of past glory and moving on to two dunderheads who failed fourth grade biology.

-So they knew people were gonna go crazy for Skyla. Always thought she was...specially made. Also explains why I keep seeing Shadow in my research.

-... And yet these stories are still better implementation of adult themes than Palworld.

On a serious note- What is up with that fucking Slaking story?

-I don't see any ZA info other than some passing info on Gen 10. Which really sucks for the developers- they're likely getting crunched still and now their hard work that they could deliver with maximum impact using good marketing is now just laid bare for everyone to mock them over.

-Lastly: It's not bad enough some poor grunt accidentally leaked a massive amount of info, likely getting him blacklisted from Japan's video gaming industry but they also had to get their info released so they can get blacklisted everywhere else AND mocked for it?

I don't care much for or against leaks but come on, have some decorum.

[atmilliways]

Wrong On The Money (13-14)

parts 13 & 14 of ?? | 766 words | Teen+

Blackmail fic on Ao3 | on tumblr

Summary:

Steve settles into a rhythm. He’d figured out cooking years ago—because fast food is fine most of the time, but every once in a while he wants, like, lasagna or something. Now he’s learning to stretch how many meals he can get out of each grocery haul.

13.

Steve settles into a rhythm. He’d figured out cooking years ago—because fast food is fine most of the time, but every once in a while he wants, like, lasagna or something. Now he’s learning to stretch how many meals he can get out of each grocery haul.

He also collects recipes for casseroles and the ‘throw it all in a pot and simmer’ kind of soups. Dustin and Will’s moms are always willing to copy things out for him whenever he drops the kids off and asks about the inviting smells wafting from the kitchen. He’s pretty sure they think the recipes are for his mom to prepare, and he plays into that. When he asks questions, he tries to phrase them dumber than they need to be. Partly for Dustin’s entertainment (because the kid thrives on poking fun at him and this is an area he’s not particularly sensitive about), but often because he genuinely wants to know. One of these days, he will figure out how to julienne a carrot without cutting himself, just for the personal satisfaction of knowing that he can.

Occasionally, though, he catches Claudia Henderson giving him this look when she thinks he isn’t paying attention. Like she’s about three seconds away from asking questions he doesn’t want to answer. Or giving him a hug. Or bypassing all pretense and inviting him to stay for dinner.

Steve likes the pretense, though. It’s his shield, his plausible deniability, his I’m Fine. And maybe it’s bullshit, but . . . he is. Or he will be. He’s figuring it out, like an adult, and he’ll be okay. 

Claudia never actually breaches that shield, to his relief. Just adds a Tupperware container or three to his arms before letting him go on his way. So that’s fine.

14.

Whenever they hang out one on one now, Jeff teases the shit out of Eddie for liking Harrington. He'll admit that Hawkins High’s former king is objectively good looking, for a guy, but still argues that jocks are all show and no substance.

And Eddie agrees! They’re just peacocking around campus because this is where they’re at their peak and it’s all downhill from here. Evidence to the point: the former king in question works full time at a video rental store, didn’t even leave this shitty town for college like the rest of his asshole crowd, and 'babysits' high school freshman in his spare time.

He agrees. And yet there’s this simmering in his gut whenever he thinks about the way Harrington looked that first night, clear-eyed and sweat-damp from dancing. It carries through into any time he sees the guy, clinging to Eddie’s brain like an afterimage that refuses to fade, overlaid over the preppy polo and acid washed jeans. Being into Steve Harrington is a betrayal of everything Eddie Munson is and believes in, but tell that to his dick.

They talk about other stuff too. About working his ass off, trying his damnedest not to fail senior year a third time even though between a part time job and dealing the only bright spots in his life are Hellfire and his guitar.

About Wayne, and the things that Eddie has had to help him with while he’s been sick. Things as simple as getting to the bathroom, and it’s. . . . Eddie loves Frank and Gareth, but they sometimes don’t know when to shut up. They’d hear Eddie talk about helping his uncle wipe his ass or bathe, and try to sympathize with shit like, ‘Gross, man. That sucks.’ It is. It does. He already knows that.

Jeff lets him talk, even about the bad shit. Especially when the bad shit becomes more and more past tense, and the elation that Wayne is getting better can shine through.

And then there’s the blackmail thing. The part of all this that makes the rest of it simultaneously better and worse. Just being able to tell someone reduces the number of circles he goes in inside his own head sometimes. Yes, Jeff confirms, this whole scheme does kind of make him an opportunistic hypocrite. Yes, this is criminal activity, definitely living up to Al Munson’s legacy. Yes, it does have the potential to backfire in a bad way.

But Harrington can afford it, isn’t even fighting him on doing so, and. . . .

“It’s for Wayne,” Jeff says at one point, like he gets it, and Eddie takes the biggest hit he can in order to disguise the wetness welling up in his eyes as watering from coughing too much.

“Yeah,” he wheezes, wiping at his wet, too-warm face. “For Wayne.”

[trashymichi]

If you have any lore/info you'd like to share abt corey/coreymichi I'd love to hear it! (I love his design. Such a little guy.)

thank you 🥹 I am genuinely flabbergasted anyone is curious about corey jacob “cj” larkin……

The general plot of his story is that he’s an american foreign exchange student who is essentially “shipped off” to another country for a year to study and make better of himself.

…corey is a 15 year old boy from new york city and comes from a shitty neighbourhood and a shitty school (as if he actually attends school to begin with lol)

…he’s known to be quite volatile bc he struggles with violent anger issues and a nicotine addiction. His anger issues stem from untreated, moderate to severe ADHD and a rocky upbringing (dad’s in jail, mom has issues. His anger outbursts were a lot worse when he was a smaller kid), but he attends community counselling for his issues and is on mood stabilizers for his anger. When he takes them, he’s a lot more lethargic and nonchalant in his day to day life..

…nearly his entire friend group all have unspecified gang affiliations, except for him and his best friend and though he tries to stay out of that business, he is still valued by a lot of his gang friends…and alas still ends up in a lot of trouble with the law, regardless. He steals for his buddies a lot, beats on others when he’s mad, particularly on a rich spoiled brat kid named Riley, spends nights in jail/juvie…he gets arrested for something a lot more serious and narrowly misses getting tried as an adult for it, but i’ll go more in depth into that possibly later or on a separate post…

On his literal first night in Japan, he accidentally runs head-on into Takemichi on the street making michi drop his food on the ground. This triggers him to absolutely HATE corey with a burning passion—but like. how could he not. Corey looks like an entitled tourist, speaks clumsy japanese, and has a standoff-ish and lethargic personality…

…so for the entirety of the summer break leading up to the start of school, Takemichi and his boys pick fights (not just ass whooping either) with Corey, and much to Takemichi and Corey’s anguish they end up attending the same school.

…they start become more friendly with one another after Corey is tasked with helping Takemichi with his math lessons (my man’s is failing so hard), and with every study session, they grow to understand one another more and more and there are homoromantic undertones to their friendship

also michi doesn’t really tell Corey about Toman business bc he doesn’t wanna involve some random american in that shit (and i’m undecided if i even want corey to have any connection with toman to begin with because he doesn’t rest fit into all that…but…we’ll see…), so this is precisely where the lore gets messy and needs some revising….

[victimized-martyr]

20 & 28? i love all ur takes on kyman so so much!!!

These questions are a blast! I'm just happy y'all give me the chance to ramble abt them ghfs so thankssss

20. Do Stan and Kenny (and Butters) approve of this relationship?

Kenny canonically keeps most of his opinions to himself, and likes to watch from a distance. He’d approach Kyman in the same way, watching them unfold with a morbid curiosity, dishing his legendary advice only when he feels he absolutely must. Does that make him a dick? Probably. But, what else would you expect from Eric Cartman’s best friend?  

Butters on the other hand, is super vocal in his approval. The moment Cartman announces he’s with Kyle, its streams of "Congratulations, Eric!” and “Shoot, anyone could see this comin’ a mile away!" and “Don’t go breakin’ Kyle’s heart, Eric. He’ll fuck you up nine ways to Sunday if you do :D” 

And then there’s Stan. 

Kyle. and Cartman. Cartman and Kyle. Together….Would he approve? Well, he wouldn’t know. This indecision isn't the result of slow observation; he sensed something between Cartman and Kyle before they realized they had feelings for one another. It’s that Stan hates change, and he's anxious to think how the relationship will permanently affect the group, the one thing in Stan's life that’s endured all of South Park’s shittiness. Would things change for the better? Or worse? There’s so many ways Cartman and Kyle could fail and make things awkward in the group. Or, what if they get so engrossed with each other that they left him behind? That he disintegrates into white noise, losing his best friend? Cartman’s the only person capable of bringing out emotions no one else could with Kyle, so will he become the best or worst version of himself? It’s all too much. He needs a lot of time to process it. 

 More than anyone else, Kyle seeks Stan’s approval in his decisions, and has often come to him to rant about Cartman. Usually, he’d get a blunt response that refocuses him, if he ever gets a response at all. This time, he needs a prompt response, and Kyle’s patience is infamously thin. Kyle is already wracked with anxiety about whether being with Cartman is the “right” thing to do. Seeing Stan close in on himself once hearing the news sends Kyle’s paranoia thru the roof lmao. 

This is a whole ass fic askin to be written (am i not writing one already HILKDJGHLI), but essentially, Stan and Kyle would have a fallout before Stan reaches a conclusion on Kyman. Stan would probably say something he’d regret and be all moody and emotional for a while. Then he’ll get bitch slapped some sense into him by Wendy, or Kenny, or hell, maybe Cartman (because “Darsh, I can’t properly make out with mah boo cause he’s too busy PMS’ing over his butfucking-boyfriend. So cut the shit out already. "). He’s forced to realize that he should still be there for his best friend, whether he ends up approving of the relationship or not. Yes, Kyle wants his approval, but he also wants his super best friend more. (stg this is Kenny Dies all over again. Hoe runs away to deal with his own emotions before being there for others. When will he learn lol)

Stan’s wary for a majority of the relationship. But he’s there for Kyle. He’ll always be there. 

28. controversial opinion on kyman?

It has less to do with Kyman and more to do with tropes. I'm so SO tired of Party at Tolkien's House as the catalyst for Kyman. ;-; it's just, too easy to write, and it's even easier to fall into the trappings of "kiss as the only romantic awakening" and teen angst. Honestly? The kids probably wouldn't be able to enjoy themselves, bc the adults suck, and it's south park, so they end up crashing the party. And then aliens get involved, bc shit like that happens. Kyle and Cartman are feelin each other up and wanna seal the deal in the closet~? Well they can't. Randy's in there playin 7 minutes in heaven with a monkey and lo and behold, is the reason we have monkeypox declared as a health emergency.

[dirty-bear-rick-sanchez]

Aftermath

Guess who’s back with another Rick and Morty centric fic? This season has had a severe lack of Rick and Morty together (and Morty as a whole tbh) so I guess the way to remedy that is fanficfion! Also everyone was so nice and encouraging to me before (thank you all so much again for being so supportive!) so I decided to post it. I also wanted to explore the issues with how Rick treats Morty since it’s an important part of their dynamic that I don’t want to ignore and even though I love some wholesomeness between the two of them, I don’t want to ignore Rick’s shittiness.

Summary: the aftermath of Rick: A Mort Well Lived. Rick knows he’s a shitty grandpa and feels bad, and tries to make things better with Morty, who is struggling a lot. Hurt/comfort, ~2k words. Quick disclaimer that this is entirely platonic, please don’t tag as ship.

Morty is uncharacteristically quiet on the flight home. At first, Rick gladly accepts Morty’s willingness to listen in silence while his sister rambles on excitedly about her Die Hard adventure, since it means he’s less likely to give away any signs that a part of him is missing. However, as more and more time passes, Rick starts to tune out what Summer is saying - despite the grandfatherly pride he feels blooming in his chest as she recaps her adventure - as he becomes increasingly concerned about Morty. It isn’t unheard of for Morty to sit quietly after a particularly intense or traumatic experience, but Morty’s face betrays the hard work he’s doing to puzzle his way through what has just happened to him. Almost like someone who’d been split into 5 billion separate parts trying to put them back together, Rick thinks wryly. He can’t be sure exactly what Morty remembers from his time in Roy, but there is one thing Rick can be sure Morty doesn’t remember, and it makes guilt bubble uncomfortably in his stomach. For once, Rick knows he has to be an adult and take responsibility for the situation.

Snapping back into reality, Rick realises Summer is looking at him expectantly.

“Ha! R-real cool, Sum-Sum!” he replies, reaching across to touch her shoulder and hoping it’s not obvious he hasn’t been paying attention. Summer beams in response, telling Rick that he’s convinced her, but simultaneously making him feel like an even worse grandpa than normal.

“Hey, you know, I think I have the audiobook of Tower Man on here somewhere,” he taps on the dashboard, indicating the ship’s hard drive. “You can finally find out what a Die Hard really is.”

“Psh! I already out-Die Hard-ed those aliens, what’s their shitty book gonna teach me?” Summer snarks back. Rick loves Summer’s attitude and thinks she’s badass, cooler than he can ever dare to let her know, but right now his main concern is the fact that his distraction has failed and they’re still about an hour away from home.

He sees Summer notice his disappointed expression and change her tone. “But, y’know, we could listen to it… just to make fun of it.” she adds, inspecting her nails coolly but betraying her facade with a glance to see his reaction, and Rick knows that she’s seeking his approval. He wonders briefly if she truly wants his validation, or if she’s just trying to make him happy by going along with what she thinks he wants, but either way he’s got his distraction.

He grins and extends a fist out to her. “Hell yes.” 

Summer responds with a grin of her own and meets his outstretched hand in a fist bump. Rick puts the audiobook on, the two of them exchanging quips and insults every now and then. Gradually, Rick starts to relax a bit and enjoy the banter, only occasionally letting his eyes flick to the mirror to check on the silent, unresponsive boy in the back.

When they make it home, Space Beth’s ship is parked in the drive, and Summer leaps out excitedly to brag to her as well. With the sole witness finally gone, Rick lets his guard drop just a little as he turns around to speak to Morty.

“H-hey, buddy. Look, since we didn’t get to stay at Blips and Chitz, whaddya say we go get some ice cream?” He offers, making his voice as gentle as his own aversion to vulnerability will allow.

Morty continues to stare vaguely at the floor. “Sure, Rick. Whatever you want.” he replies glumly, as if Rick had proposed a typical unpleasant adventure instead of a frozen dessert.

“Or w-what about pizza? You want pizza?” Rick tries again. Morty merely shrugs, not even responding this time.

“Come on Morty, work with me here. You tell me where you want to go.” Despite his best efforts, Rick hears the frustration he’s feeling spill over into his voice.

“I don’t know, Rick! OK?” Morty shouts, finally looking up at him. Rick’s brow raises in surprise as he sees tears forming in Morty’s eyes, his fists curled into balls at his sides. “You’re in charge, remember? I’m just the sidekick. You tell me what we’re doing.” As he speaks, the volume and emotion in his voice begin to peter out, and he slumps back into his seat. Even though he’s more worried than ever, Rick has to fight the automatic reaction to snap back at Morty in retaliation. Unfortunately, it’s a fight he rarely wins, and this time is no exception.

“Alright, fine! I-I-I was just trying to do something nice for you, but fuck me, I guess! Y-y-y-you wanna be a whiny little piece of shit, Morty? Fine!” Even as the words are spilling out of his mouth, Rick regrets them, wants to take them back, but they just keep coming. Morty just huffs and crosses his arms, curling into himself.

Rick takes off again, and they fly in angry, tense silence for a few minutes before landing at a nearby ice cream parlour of Rick’s choice. Rick is half-surprised when Morty climbs out of the car and follows him, but decides not to call attention to it. When they enter, Rick orders for them both, having a feeling Morty will refuse to speak anyway, but making sure to get a flavour he remembers Morty loving - mainly because he remembers that he spent most of the time making fun of Morty for choosing such a lame and boring option. Great. Yet another way I’m a shitty excuse for a grandpa. 

When they sit down with their ice creams, neither of them speak, or even show much interest in their desserts. Morty pokes at his moodily with a spoon, while Rick chokes down a few mouthfuls before giving up altogether. Eventually, when it becomes clear both of them are done, Rick stands and throws some of the local currency down on the table before leaving, hearing Morty follow behind him.

They get back into the car, Morty choosing to sit next to Rick this time. The two sit silently in the parked ship until the building tension starts to become suffocating.

“Morty, look, just, just tell me what’s wrong, OK?” Rick stutters, trying to soften his tone as much as he can.

Morty looks up at him and bursts into tears. “Rick, I’m so confused.” he heaves the words out between sobs. “I-I don’t know what happened to me in that Roy machine but I feel like something’s wrong and I-I-I don’t know what it is but it’s missing and I don’t know if I’ll ever get it back and I’m scared!” His face is dripping with tears and snot, and Rick isn’t particularly big on physical affection at the best of times, but his guilt overpowers these factors enough for him to wrap his arms around Morty and pull him into a hug. 

At first, Morty stiffens in shock, but quickly buries his head in Rick’s chest, sobbing violently and clinging to Rick like a life preserver. The combination of noise and mess and Morty’s intense emotions and his own guilt threaten to overwhelm Rick, but he swallows and tries his best to push through it. He knows he should comfort Morty, wants to comfort Morty, but he is wildly out of his depth. He brings one hand up to Morty’s head and strokes his hair, muttering gentle ‘sh’ noises to him.

The sensation of Morty’s hair between his fingers helps calm Rick down enough to bring him back to thinking clearly. Unfortunately, with clarity comes an awareness of his responsibility, and with that comes the full weight of his guilt. 

“Sh, Morty, it’s OK, I’m here. Grandpa’s here.” he murmurs, then swallows hard and struggles to get the words out. “I love you, Morty.”  

At this, Morty pauses and pulls back just enough to look at Rick’s face. He looks so hopeful yet distrustful, as if wanting to believe it but not daring to let himself. Rick can’t blame him for this, but he feels a heavy sinking feeling in his chest and stomach at the realisation that he is to blame for his own grandson feeling this way.

“Do you mean it, Rick?” Morty asks, his voice and bottom lip both wobbling in a manner more suited to a child half his age. Rick nods mutely, feeling as if his throat is too tight to speak. Morty presses again. “Do you promise?”

Rick pulls Morty back to his chest, partly because it’s easier to say it without looking at Morty, partly because he’s worried he’ll start crying too and he doesn’t want Morty to see.

“Yes, Morty. Yes, of course I do. I… I love you, and I respect you, a-and I’m sorry I never said it before.” Rick replies, fighting to keep his voice steady. Morty tightens his grip on Rick.

“I love you too, Grandpa.”

Rick loses his composure at that, just a bit. Thankfully, Morty shows no sign of letting go for the few minutes it takes for Rick to collect himself. 

They remain holding each other, silent except for Morty’s occasional sniffles. They hold each other for longer than Rick thinks he’s ever held anyone or been held by anyone in his life. It’s the kind of hug he’s imagined he would give his original Beth and Diane if he could somehow have one more day, one more hour, even one more minute with them again. 

Eventually, Morty pulls back, not fully, just enough that the hug is loose instead of tight, and rests his head against Rick’s shoulder. In turn, Rick rests his own head on top of Morty’s.

“Rick?” Morty’s voice is shaky, tentative.

“Mm?”

“Do you think… will I… will I be OK? After all the Roy stuff, I mean.”

“I did my best, Morty. I came in straight after you. I got you back. You should start feeling like yourself again soon.” Rick chooses his words carefully, not quite able to bring himself to outright lie to Morty, but still not prepared to tell him the truth. 

“OK, Rick. I trust you.”

Fuck.

Rick tries to ignore the way his stomach drops and churns at that statement.

“H-hey, Rick? You know what you said earlier?”

Rick instantly panics, trying to mentally scan every word he’s said to Morty that day. Has Morty figured it out?

“W-w-what’s that, Morty?” He tries to sound casual.

“A-about pizza?” Morty looks hopeful, innocent, and Rick hates himself for feeling so relieved at getting away with his dishonesty. He forces a smile and ruffles Morty’s hair.

“Sure thing, buddy.”

They fly in silence, again, but it’s more comfortable this time, both of them simply too emotionally and mentally drained to make conversation. Morty is practically falling asleep by the time they arrive, but as soon as their food is ready, he perks up enough to wolf down his pizza. Rick can’t blame him; once he takes his first bite, he barely even pauses for breath until he’s finished. By the time he glances over at Morty, the kid is already asleep, and Rick can’t see a reason to disturb him. In a rare moment of tenderness, he removes his lab coat and drapes it over his grandson’s sleeping body.

Morty stays asleep, dead to the world, for the whole flight back. He stirs, very slightly, when the ship lands with a jolt in their driveway, but only stays awake for the briefest of moments before slipping back into sleep. Rick resigns himself to carrying Morty up to bed and scoops him up. Rick isn’t particularly strong, even with all the cybernetic enhancements, but Morty is small and skinny for his age, so it’s more of an awkward task than a strenuous one. As he places Morty into bed, he’s reminded painfully of doing the same for a much younger Beth, and he feels a paternal instinct rise from dormancy and take over. He tucks Morty in and presses a gentle kiss to his forehead.

“I love you.” he mumbles, almost under his breath, figuring he might as well get used to saying it. Morty doesn’t respond, and he adds, “I-I’ll get you all back, Morty. All of you.”

[tossawary]

For whatever reason, my brain fed me a “Shen Yuan transmigrates in as Linguang-Jun” AU. Probably just as a one-shot thing to explore a SY & MBJ relationship. This happens when MBJ is an older child or a young teen, I think, so LGJ has done some shit, but the shitty relationship isn’t totally set in stone yet. SY panics, of course, because he has no idea how to be a demon. 

SY eventually settles on trying to make good with MBJ (within the limits of the OOC locks at first) so that Mobei-Jun doesn’t grow up to kill him. Young MBJ’s first reaction is that this is a trick of some kind, albeit an extremely confusing one. Young MBJ eventually witnesses something (SY utterly failing to use his demon powers while he’s still trying to figure them out) and it clicks for MBJ that his uncle has been possessed or replaced. 

MBJ eventually decides that his uncle has been permanently possessed by a dream demon or the like. Should he tell someone about this? Maybe! But he kind of likes this version of his shitty uncle better. This version of LGJ isn’t trying to kill him and, like, serves that bastard right getting his body stolen by an apparently incompetent dream demon. 

SY fakes it until he (kind of) makes it as a demon. LGJ has been scary enough over the years and has MBJ’s father’s protection, so SY doesn’t have to jockey for power too much. SY is also kind of good at playing elegant, handsome villains when he’s called upon to do so (SY could consider what this says about him as a person, but he’s not going to). SY is mostly left alone to study horrible monsters to his heart’s content. 

And also hang out with young Mobei-Jun. MBJ takes advantage of SY to, idk, get his hands on some family weapon locked up in a vault where kiddos can’t get it, like a child tricking their uncle into giving them car keys at twelve. Uncle-nephew trips consist of MBJ using this new LGJ!SY who wants to win his favor as a get-out-of-jail-free card. 

Shen Yuan: “MY darling nephew? Steal YOUR demon horse? Unlikely! How dare you make such an accusation!” 

Mobei-Jun: *absolutely did do that for kicks and is very curious to see how far he can take this before someone calls him on it*

Eventually, a teenage or young adult MBJ meets Shang Qinghua. He doesn’t tell SQH about the dream demon possessing his uncle, nor does he tell the dream demon possessing his uncle about SQH. At least, not until he overhears SQH use a word that MBJ has overheard SY use before, something like, “WTF.” And then MBJ is like, “What does that word mean?” 

Shang Qinghua: “My king-?! Oh, uh, nothing! Nothing, really!” 

Mobei-Jun: “I have heard this word before. I know it means something. What does this word mean?” 

Shang Qinghua: “...You’ve...? Wait, what?!” 

And then MBJ gets badgered into letting SQH meet the new Linguang-Jun. SQH does not play this subtle enough for MBJ not to have questions, so MBJ exits the room and then blatantly eavesdrops on the conversation because SQH and LGJ generally seem to forget about the extent of demon hearing. 

Shang Qinghua: “Proud Immortal Demon Way?” 

Linguang-Jun!SY: “...Another transmigrator?!!!” 

And Mobei-Jun is like, “Oh, Shang Qinghua is also a dream demon. This makes sense given the many strange things about him. I am very clever.” 

Just because, I really like the idea of MBJ actually being able to perceive transmigrators to some degree? Given his family’s bullshit about consuming and stealing power, he’s always on the lookout for possession (but he’s unfamiliar with humans, so it’s harder there). So, like, there’s Mobei-Jun and his two “dream demons” who are quite bad at pretending to be the powerful demon and the ordinary human they’re possessing. He’s cool with this. 

SY gets MBJ to treat SQH decently. Kind of accidentally, but still.

Anyway, I’m going to assume that #1 LBH fanboy Shen Yuan finds an excuse to go “check” on the poor young protagonist at some point. He badgers Shang Qinghua about how the kid is doing and SQH is like, “Oh, yeah, that kid is definitely being abused.” Shen Yuan talks himself into becoming a secret demonic patron and mentor, just to make sure that the protagonist doesn’t end up growing up to kill him, you know. 

LBH ends up taking a lot of away missions from the peak to stay away from SQQ, who is basically like, “Yes, fuck off. If you die, that’s fine.” And LBH keeps running into his “secret demonic patron and mentor”. And maybe being saved by SY several times. SY kind of digs the idea of being able to offer wise advice to the protagonist. That’s not a bad position, right? 

LBH falling in love with this mysterious and weirdly kind demon lord? It’s exactly as likely as you think. Age difference? No issue in LBH’s mind! 

(SY probably accidentally runs into Liu Qingge too, and saves and kind of seduces the man, of course. Liu Qingge makes it his mission to track this demon down because he is VERY ANGRY about this.) 

If SY can make SQQ into LBH’s type, then he can absolutely make LGJ into LBH’s type. When Shang Qinghua cottons on to this, he’s just like, “A handsome ice demon with villainous character design? My, uh, protagonist and I have very similar taste in men, I guess. Holy shit.” 

Mobei-Jun and Post-Abyss Luo Binghe face-off for Luo Binghe’s rights to court the totally oblivious “dream demon” possessing Mobei-Jun’s uncle. Because I like the idea of Mobei-Jun repeatedly giving the protagonist “impossible tasks” just to fuck with him and then being mildly surprised when LBH keeps succeeding, while LBH can’t bully MBJ because MBJ is SY’s “darling nephew” and LBH doesn’t want to upset SY. (Very smug MBJ face here.) 

Eventually Mobei-Jun is like, “Go conquer the Demon Realm, I guess?” So LBH spends the next 5 years or so doing that, sending SY many, many gifts and letters. While Mobei-Jun is like, “It won’t actually help him. Dream demons are very stupid and must be told directly of any romantic feelings.” 

Shang Qinghua: “Haha, I guess. Wait- dream demon?!” 

Mobei-Jun: “Oh, I forgot to tell you I knew.” 

Mobei-Jun’s face turns extremely judgmental. 

Mobei-Jun: “You really didn’t know that I know what you are?” 

Shang Qinghua: “...No...?!” 

[nataliedanovelist]

GF - Timestuck AU: The Power of Mabel ch.6

While fighting over a time machine so one twin can win a pig or the other can win the heart of a girl, Mabel is left stranded in a snowy forest with no time machine and no brother. Oops.

ch.5 - ch.7 (finale)

~~~~~~~~~~

The air was still quite nippy and crisp, but the afternoon sun sparkled on the white snow and made the atmosphere pleasant to stand in if the Main Sequence Star was shining directly on a living organism, like it was on Stan from where he stood on the porch. He sighed tiredly as he dug into his hoodie’s pocket for a fresh cigar and lit it with his Zippo-style lighter. He knew he probably shouldn’t smoke with a kid in the house, but after the few days he’s had, he needed and had well earned a smoke-break.

The door opened and Stan hid his cigar by his side, his right arm glued to his hip to hide the newcomer on his left, but when he saw it was an adult, he relaxed and took another puff. “M’trying to quit.” He mumbled.

Ford snickered. “Yeah, it looks like you’re trying really hard.”

“Don’t be shitty.” Stan said casually.

“Mind if I lend one? I can replenish you in a few minutes.”

Stan stared at his goody two-shoes of a twin and handed him a cigar and the lighter. “You smoke?”

“Not often. For a celebration or after a long day.” Ford answered as he lit his borrowed cigar. “Maybe twice a month. Thrice?”

“Huh.”

Ford looked down at the lighter in his hand, and he was surprised when he recognized it. He can clearly remember seeing the tiny silver box in a store and thinking Stanley would like it as a Only One More Year of High-School present. “I gave this to you.”

Stan smiled as he took it back and pocketed it. “Yeah, it’s a good lighter. Only needed to change the flint a few times.”

“Hey guys!” A small voice called from inside the house. “Do you like vanilla or chocolate?”

The twins looked at each other, smiled, and called back. “Both. Both is good!”

“Both it is!”

Stan chuckled and shook his head. “Knucklehead… I knew she had to be family just by looking at her!” He bragged proudly.

“I suppose I was too distracted by the fact that a cold girl was at my doorstep to recognize the family resemblance.” Ford reasoned, shrugging. “I wanted to make sure I did the right thing. I didn’t exactly feel like getting arrested for kidnapping.”

Stan barked a laugh. “Yeah, you got a good point.” The conman yawned and stretched his arms over his head. “Guess I’ll head out tomorrow.” He mentioned offhandedly.

Ford stared at him, a little saddened and disheartened by this fact that was news to him. “You’re leaving?”

“I mean, yeah?” Stan equally stared at his brother, confused and not daring to be hopeful, but still. “What?”

“I just…” Ford hesitated and busied his mouth by taking a hit of his cigar. With everything that has been said and how well he and Stan have been communicating, he really didn’t feel like ruining it now. He relaxed his shoulders and said with his eyes on the snowy woods. “I was really hoping you would stay.”

Stan looked dumbfounded, like a child discovering candy for the first time, but he looked away and down at the porch floor. “Oh.”

“I’ll of course be taking care of Mabel until Dipper comes back in time for her…”

“He might not.”

“We got over our grudges. They can do the same.” Ford said firmly. “Still, you have a point. Dipper might not be able to come back. Regardless, whether it’s for a short time, a long time, or for the rest of my life, I will take care of her. I might not be the best for her, I can acknowledge that…”

“C’mon, Sixer, don’t be like that.” Stan scolded lightly, giving a sympathetic look to the nerd. “What else can you do, y’know? There’s no way in hell you’re gonna give her up, I’ll kidnap her and run away to Canada before I let you…”

Ford laughed and waved a hand as he smiled. “No no, I promise I won’t.”

“Good.”

“The point is, she loves you. Clearly. And it takes two, and I’ll be busy with my research, especially once the snow melts and the anomalies become more active in the spring and summer, but…” Ford bit his lip. This was a bad idea. If he makes it seem that the only reason why Stan needs to be here is because of Mabel, if or when she’s gone, then Stan will have no reason to stay. And there were many reasons why Ford wanted Stan to stay.

Despite how much of a social-cripple Ford was, he knew that Stan was homeless. His frequent traveling and how full his car was right now was enough proof of that. And Ford hated that for his brother.

But there was another, bigger reason why Ford wanted Stan to stay. So he better just say it.

“Do you know why I went to Backupsmore?” Ford asked.

Stan’s facial expression darkened as he looked away and he shrugged. “Cuz I fucked up your project?”

“No,” Ford answered plainly. “I may not have been accepted into West Coast Tech, but there were so many other colleges that wanted me. I could apply to Yale or Harvard or any college from New York to California and instantly be accepted.

“But I didn’t.” The author added grimly. “Stanley, when you left… When you were gone, I was a mess. So many days I just lied in bed without meals or sleep. Ma was hysterical. I failed most of my exams and only barely scraped a C in the ones I didn’t fail. My GPA dropped significantly and I even lost my Honor Roll. Thankfully my past grades were enough to let me graduate with a 3.2, but my clean record was stained and a lot of prestigious colleges didn’t want me.

“All I wanted at that point was to get as far away from Glass Shard as possible. Luckily there was a small college outside of San Francisco that practically accepted everyone and had a wide range of studies to offer, so I applied and was accepted by graduation day.”

“Good for you.” Stan grunted.

“No! The point is, I…” Ford groaned, feeling like he was failing, but he had to try. “I understand if you don’t want to stay. I understand you have your own life and things you want to do, and I can live without you again if I have to, but… I really, really don’t want to. Yes, I know that part of growing up is going in different directions and being independent and all the other bells and whistles, but it doesn’t have to be. So, if you can tolerate living under the same roof as me again, and if you’re okay with it, I want to offer you a job.”

Stan raised an eyebrow at the six-fingered man. “What kinda job?”

“The committee gives me monthly boosts so I can continue my research. As long as I prove to them once a year that progress is being made, I have a good income coming in. It is a big job, exploring the large woods, climbing mountains and waterfalls, combing the lake, mapping the Enchanted Forest, and hunting down monsters and anomalies to learn more about them. I’ve always managed to make it out of trouble alright, but… I need a partner, and I want to keep it in the family.” Ford smiled at the last sentence.

“What are you saying?” Stan sneered, not daring to believe, not daring to hope, but that stupid smile Ford had…

“I’m saying I want you to do this with me, Stanley.” Ford said matter-of-factly. “I can share the grant with you after bills are paid and groceries are purchased. We can renovate the small room on the ground floor to be Mabel’s bedroom and you can have the entire attic as your own space.

“I know it’s not sailing around the world, but… Please. Will you give me another chance?” Ford pleaded with a soft smile.

Stan grinned and shook his head. “Shit, Sixer, you’re a better salesman than me.” He looked him in the eyes. “Okay. Yes. I’ll stay.”

Ford’s cheeks puffed with happiness as he smiled, his lips pressed together, and he looked ahead, happily daydreaming his future. Being surrounded by weirdness for a living was amazing by itself; doing it with his twin and raising their niece together on top of it was better than anything he could have imagined.

Stan was watching him and laughed good-naturedly, then held out a hand to him. Ford blinked at it like a startled owl, but then returned the smile and sealed the deal with a high-six.

Both brothers stood contently outside with their cigars for a minute, but then heard a bowl clatter on the floor. Mabel must be making a mess in the kitchen, which was fine.

What wasn’t fine was the sound that followed of a body falling on the floor.

Ford raised an eyebrow and called calmly, “Mabel, are you alright?”

They both expected a quick “yeah, sorry, I’m okay,” and maybe an explanation to follow, like she tripped getting down from a chair or something. But there was no reply.

“Mabel, sweetie?” Stan hollered, trying not to sound mad or scared or anything but cool-under-pressure, but this voice trembled with fear.

Still no answer.

Ford and Stan quickly discarded their cigars and bolted inside. Racing like children for cookies, they soon stood at the doorway of the kitchen and were horrified to find Mabel sprawled on the floor on her front, her hair scattered over her face to hide her expression, and her legs and bottom-half of her body slowly fading.

Literally. Fading. Mabel was fading away. She was disappearing like a stain on cloth.

“MABEL!” The men screamed and were immediately on their knees beside her. Ford scooped her up into his arms and felt her pulse and looked over her.

“What happened to her?!” Stan cried out. “Pumpkin, what’s wrong?!”

Ford’s eyes widened in panic as a horrifying realization slapped him in the face. “Mabel… You changed history.”

The tired girl nodded with her eyes closed. “If… If you guys had a fight… and never made up… in my timeline, then I guess…” Mabel paused to yawn tiredly. It didn’t hurt, but she was really sleepy now.“I guess that timeline doesn’t exist anymore, huh? I guess I don’t exist anymore.”

“WHAT?!” Stan yelled and took Mabel’s hand and squeezed it. “We have to do something! You’re family! You’re… We can’t just let you d- not exist!”

Ford held Mabel tighter and closer to his warm chest, making her smile. She swore she could hear his heartbeat. It was too fast. She would have to fix that. Poor Ford was also shaking like a leaf. Mabel could fix that, too.

“I’ll exist.” She smiled up at her uncles. “In a few years.”

Ford bit his lip. He shouldn’t ask this, it was probably dangerous to learn about the future, but the worst was already happening. What else could possibly happen that was worse than losing his girl? Ford couldn’t help but ask, “When?”

“August 31st, 1999.” Mabel’s eyes dazzled. “You’ll meet Dipper, too.” She shifted her eyes to only Stan and whispered, “Did you know you were there? You came to see us when we were born?”

Stan’s eyes watered as he smiled at the new piece of information. “I did?”

“You did. I came out first. You were so proud when I kicked the doctor in the jaw.”

Stan made a watery chuckle and wiped at his eye. “That’s my girl.”

“Dipper came next. He was blue. Umbilical cord wrapped around his neck.”

“Was he okay?” Stan asked.

“He was fine. You knew he would be. You never doubted.”

“I never will, pumpkin. I swear.”

The fading is now much worse. It was spreading over Mabel like a virus. Her legs were hardly visible to the naked eye, and even her shoulders were losing color. This Mabel is almost completely gone. 

Ford, pressed for time, bit his lip as tears flooded his eyes and he cupped Mabel’s cheek and cradled her. “I… I can’t let you go! We just started to become a real family! Wh-What am I going to do without you?!”

Mabel smiled and used the free hand not holding Stan’s trembling hand to caress Ford’s jaw and lower cheek, then cupping his face so her fingertips grazed his sideburn. “It’s okay, really. I’ll see you again, and next time it’ll be when both of you come to see us. Totally worth it.” 

Ford held his breath, and shut his eyes, a tear escaping from each eye and sitting comfortably in the corners of his windows to his soul. Stan hiccuped a laugh and rubbed her hand between both of his. Both of them were doing everything in their power not to cry. 

To that, Mabel laughed and said, “Boys are stupid. It’s okay to cry.”

The cursed power of Mabel. Making people be honest and breaking dams.

Ford curled into his niece, his face sloe to her heart, and cried gently. He wasn’t ready, but he didn’t think he could ever be ready for this.

Stan laughed with tears streaming down his face and he kissed Mabel’s tiny fingers trapped in his hold, then held their hands close to his bowed forehead and just focused on feeling her pulse between his palms.

It only lasted another minute.

Ford was mortified when his chest sank and his arms were empty. He threw himself back and stared at his lap and felt sick to his stomach to find his little girl missing.

Stan’s hands also clasped together and he squeezed tightly, his fists against his trembling lips as he cried.

The genius who always seemed to know what to do didn’t have a damn clue what to do with himself. He growled in his throat, squeezing his eyes shut and gritting his teeth, then let out a painful howl and moan that most definitely disturbed birds and made a deer or two gallop farther away.

Ford removed his glasses and held his knees, sobbing his heart out. Stan blinked his tears off his eyes, resulting in them rolling down his face, as he watched his brother completely shatter to pieces. He had seen him upset before, sure; all those years of bullying, of Pa’s outbursts and sometimes physical punishments, hopelessness that he was actually worth something. You don’t spend seventeen years with a person and not see them break every so often, granted the blessing to help them put themselves back together again.

But Ford didn’t need Stan to swoop in and fix it. There were no bullies to punch or parents to stand against or jokes to crack that would make this okay. All Stan could do was throw his arms around him and bury his face into Ford’s shoulder and cry, too. 

So that’s what they did on the kitchen floor for over an hour.

~~~~~~~~~~

Dipper blinked to try to see, but all he saw around him was inky blackness for miles. His heart raced as he looked around for his sister. “Mabel? Mabel! Mabel, answer me!”

The boy scrambled and collapsed out of a portable potty at the fair. He blinked his eyes rapidly to adjust to the sunlight, scurrying off his hands and knees, clutching the warm time-machine in his hands. Wendy was still admiring her price and Robbie was still sulking, and Waddles was still trying to get away from Pacifica.

That didn’t matter! Mabel was stranded back in time! But how far back?! When was Mabel?! Dipper started jamming the button, but the machine wasn’t working, and it was soon swiped from him by a black-gloved hand.

“Mason Pines,” A gruff voice commanded above him and Dipper looked up to find two new guys with that Blendin guy. The two other guys were muscular and guarded with high-tech armor. 

“You are under arrest for violating the Time-Traveler's Code of Conduct and for jeopardizing the timestream.” The man labeled as Dundgren stated as serious as death.

“Do you have any idea how many rules you just broke?!” Blendin squawked. “I’m asking. I wasn’t there with you. It was probably a lot, right?”

“Wait, wait please!” Dipper begged as the two members of the Time Paradox Avoidance Enforcement Squadrent each grabbed the boy by an arm. “My sister! She’s still back there! We have to get her!”

“You have the right to remain silent.” The man labeled as Lolph informed robotically. “Anything you say can and already has been used in the Court of Time-Law.”

“Let me go, Mabel needs-...” And Dipper and the three time-travelers were blasted forward in time.

~~~~~~~~~~

In the endless space of time, Dipper was levitated off the ground by a giant baby using the power of his forehead-hourglass to trap him in a baby-blue field. Members of the the Time Paradox Avoidance Enforcement Squadrent circled the two, and Blendin stood with his arms crossed over his chest and smiling smugly as the kid who caused so much trouble was getting what he deserved.

“You and your sister have broken the eternal laws of space-time.”

“I’m sorry!” Dipper cried out, trying to fight the energy circling him, but it was futile. “I’m sorry! Do what you want to me, just help my sister!”

“Your sister does not require help, nor do you require punishment.” Time Baby informed as he held his feet. “You are lucky the events that occurred do not change anything drastically. However, your timeline has shifted and therefore this reality’s version of you and your sister are no longer viable and will cease to exist.”

“What?!” Dipper squeaked and looked down at his body to find his legs disappearing. “No no NO! What’s happening to me?!”

“You and your twin sister will be born again on August 31st, 1999, but too many things are different in your timeline for this version of you to continue to exist.”

“W-W-What did I do wrong?! What did I change?!” Dipper cried out as his whole body was drained of color. “What changed in our timeline?!”

“Your uncles have amended their bond thirty-four years ahead of schedule. As unfortunate as this is, your sister miraculously delayed the plans of Bill Cipher by an entire millennia.”

“What uncles?!” Dipper asked, panicked as the fading reached his neck. “Who’s Bill Cipher?!”

“If you wanted the answers you sought out, you should have been patient.” Time Baby scolded. “We all get the answers we seek… in time.”

“P-P-Please!” Dipper begged as he appeared as a ghost. “Please! What did Mabel do?!”

Time Baby cruelly stayed silent, testing Dipper’s strengths, but he was dying, anyways. Might as well.

“She met the Author of the Journals. Your missing uncle.”

Dipper’s eyes widened. “Mabel…” He rasped, and then he ceased to exist.

[tomatograter]

whats your opinions on jake being portrayed as arospec or acespec and gay? do you think it would make sense if he was acespec or arospec or no? it definitely makes sense that hes gay

Personally (and it's important that this starting disclaimer exists) *I* don't portray Jake as being in the aro/ace spectrum. That's Me. It's not a subject i enjoy debating about because it feels unfocused.

This is for a variety of reasons I consider important, the biggest one being that Jake is a sexual assault survivor — this is not something that has happened to "a" Jake, it is an intrinsic part of his story be it on the beta earth or on the game over timeline or in the alpha earth or in the epilogues; it's a recurrent constant. And he responds to it badly, always.

Jake's ambivalence towards being worthy of a relationship, immediate repulsion to any sort of contact, attempts at self-isolation, and subsequent hypersexuality after being harassed and threatened with sexual assault by jane are... really eerily accurate to my own experiences and survivors i know. When he decides to perform as an adult he overdoes it: he does things he's not exactly proud of and that contribute to a manufactured image the public has of him, but it's not because he's disinterested, it's because he's traumatized. He's trying to prove that he's "gotten better". I identified within the spectrum as a teen, but the label only worked insofar as I had my own points of contention to work through and being in any sort of relationship, for a period of my life, was untenable. It was easier to find a label that would help me not think about it anymore and mark every potential risk down as 'unavailable'.

The average sexual assault victim in media gets one of two treatments. First being the inspiration porn, as in "here to make the protagonist feel less shitty about their life because other people have it worse!", and second being The Tragedy That Dies At The End. The first is often coupled with said character conveniently disappearing after their usefulness to the plot or protagonist is exhausted, a friendly figure walking off alone into the mist with a placid smile, and the second just dies. Neither is considered fit for romance, and the nebulous concept of happy ending seems to exist inside this desexed, saintly, sterilized, and 90% of the time bubblewrapped future where they become a monk or something. As if that's the only way they'll get "fixed" aside from death.

If they had a baby from the assault, sometimes, they get to keep it. Never remarry though!

(There's a minor blessing spared to victims that also happen to be protagonists, in which they get to go on a cinematic revengequest, but I consider that a different subject in how people tend to portray "functional" survivors altogether. The Protagonist with some hidden dark secret is still the Protagonist. The victim is defined by being the victim.)

Conversations about aro/ace Jake tend to frame it as an innate truth he's always been aware of, while also pointedly not touching on the big awkward trauma sitting in the middle of the room. I've read about it and seen how it gets portrayed in other fanworks, but i don't think it works for me. Jake's self-hatred and victim blaming is upped to 110 in the conversation that often gets cited as proof that he's aromantic, but that's in the same log where he says 'maybe hes not worth of anyone's time ever, and maybe he shouldn't inconvenience anyone ever again, and maybe he did something to provoke or deserve all of this, so really everyone would be much happier if he moved into the woods, bleeped off the radar, and never had a chance to ruin their lives again' so idk. It never felt comfortable to me to ignore the context it's in, what it was motivated by, and same with the post-trickster logs, where he's still jealous over dirk after saying Maybe He's Just Broken for not getting what roxy or jane feel when they go to dubious extremes in the name of "love".

"Nonrom sansplat" in on itself is a bit of an awkward punitive joke, like, he's announcing hes not even worthy of having platonic friends. What the hell!

And Jake does want to have friends, and he does want to date somebody, and multiple times throughout the story we see he's romantically interested in dirk in a way that is not reciprocated once the subject of the sentence is switched to jane or aranea or even roxy, but he clearly does feel upset when that is taken away from him, so for me it seems clear enough.

Second reason being, Jake tends to get infantilized pretty hard. Its uncomfortable to see the overlaying composite of people recognizing ND/Autistic traits in him and exclaiming he's unfit for a relationship because "he can't handle it", or is "too dumb for it", while also knowing a lot of his issues stem from trying to make his friends not leave him and have other people recognize him as a full person (or as a grown adult, in the case of the epilogues).

In sum; I think Jake has a complex identity, but to me its core is defined by how he fails to perform masculinity in every traditional sense, the harm that is brought to him because of that (and lets be honest, most of the incidents are framed as "corretive", beta jake's specifically because he fell for a man, etc), how he has to deal with it afterwards, and slowly learn how to heal without further harming himself.

[actually-impostor]

I am so tired

And exhausted. Disappointed. And worried

Jesus christ I'm worried

Because they are kids. They are childrens.

I'm gonna go on a long rant, everything will be tagged as it should, and this post will be behind a read more. Care for yourself while reading.

Tommyinmit. Tubbo. Ranboo. Hell, even Purpled (tho luckily i havent seen him be fucking attacked and hounded and harassed in this way. Small mercies)

They should NOT have to carry the weight of expectation A Bunch Of Adults Have Put On Their Shoulders

Read that again

YOU AS AN ADULT SHOULD NOT PUT YOUR EXPECTATIONS ON THE SHOULDERS OF CHILDREN

Should they try to better themselves every day? Yeah, but that's something every human should do

Should they stop being children just because they have a platform?

FUCK NO

Im sorry the internet and the world and the adults around you failed you to the point where you think having a mental breakdown everyday for all the struggles around the world you Are Forced To Read About is somehow normal.

Because darling, it's not.

Its not normal, or okay, or something to flex about, that your mental health is being put to such a risk just so you can stay "on top of things"

Im going to re-phrase something i said in 2019 about child actors (i know they aren't "actors" in the traditional sense but they are child celebrities, and it fits)

What you guys have to realize is that the difference between them and... idk, kids you see in your school or in your neighborhood, is that They Have An Audience. They had a sudden spike of people who from one day to the other focused their attention on them and decided "mh, I want to give them attention and a platform for a/b/c reason". You gave them your attention, if you disagree with something they said or their attitudes or whatever, you are in complete liberty to take away your view without feeling like you have to put them on blast.

They are young enough where their personalities, reactions, and opinions are still an echo of the adults and friends who surround them. They are starting to form their own opinions, but its still very much filtered by whichever influence got them first (parents, idols, teachers, older siblings, etc)

We are all ignorants when we are kids, even those who had to suffer thru a lack of privilege are ignorants of things up to a certain point. We grow to educate ourselves in whichever way we can, but we are still ignorant to A Lot Of Issues while we are growing and becoming ourselves.

The difference between us nobodies, and child celebrities (or kids with a following. Twitch streamers, tiktokers, youtubers, actors, etc) is that they have a constant spotlight and millions of eyes on them.

Everyone has access to when they fuck up because its never in private, Because They Dont Have That Privilege.

They are not allowed to mess up, because they are expected to be perfect.

Read that again.

They are KIDS who are Not Allowed To Make Mistakes Anymore.

They aren't allowed to make mistakes, a central point of growing up that helps you become a better person. They are not being allowed to grow and become better because they are not being allowed to fuck up, which is human!

And instead of Actually being helpful, the solution you, ADULTS, have come to... is to send them hate?

Your solution is to call them racist, homophobic, horrible humans who wont better themselves.

What have you done?

Answer that to yourselves.

What have you done?

Have you donated to your charity of choice? Have you given the microphone to the ones that struggle? Have you woke up and think "im gonna do a random act of kindness"?

Or are you just going to waste your energy and yourself bashing a teenager on twitter and staring as his mental health fucks off? In front of a live audience that instead of realizing they were taking things TOO FAR decided to try to "hammer the point"

What are you gonna do if they fuck off?

Because what´s happening is not "EDUCATING"

Is bullying a child.

Thats all there is. You have successfully bullied a child, yay. Now he doesn't want to learn better because no matter how much he educates himself yall still decide he is the worst human being on the planet for not being able to express something in a way YOU feel HE should.

Allow people to make mistakes without them being crucified every fucking step of the way.

Another thing is this need to remind them "i have this mental health situation, now say something to make me feel better"

Fantastic that you found someone and something that can help you out of a dark place. Now do the next part of getting Actual Capable And Profesional Help.

They are children, they are streamers. They dont have the necessary knowledge and equipment and training to help you with something serious. It should not be in their shoulder the weight of actively helping people thru a traumatic event or a shitty situation. If their streams comfort you, great. But thats all they can do.

And if they want to be educated on something Dont Immediately Shut Them Down. Let them educate themselves even if it's on something considered problematic, or something you think "is not important enough", just let them explore their interests without feeling like they have to perform everything for their audience.

Be better.

Do better.

And honestly? I didnt wanted to add this, but after all my sister has a point.

Why are you guys putting so much effort and energy into this? They play video games for a living.

Use your energy into bettering yourself and doing your part for the world. Not into bashing a 16-17 years old child.

Go outside, see the sky, change your scenario a bit. Touch some grass.

I think tomorrow i'll go for a walk.

[theramseyloft]

You go on about how intelligent/emotional pigeons are, but you treat them like objects and that bothers me. You separate bonded pairs of these intelligent, loving animals so frequently as if they don't have any feelings. And then you wonder why these birds afterward do not just take a new mate instantly. You are continually traumatizing these animals and causing them to shut down because they probably begin to realize any new bond they make will only be severed.

I do that because they are.

There is a huge difference between treating a living being like an object and acknowledging that the feelings of a non-human will not often perfectly align with those of a human.

Different species are different.

They have different physical, emotional, and social needs, even if there are a lot of close parallels.

And there are certainly a lot of parallels between humans and pigeons;

They are self aware cooperative social learners.

They form societies.

Those societies have a culture that varies regionally and they have a base line of values...

But their society, culture, and values are different from a human’s because pigeons are not human.

Nothing specializes in preying on humans. We generalize in preying on everything, as a species, as a whole.

We change our environment to suit our needs as much as we are able, and we are more able with every generation.

While things, objectively, can happen to any human at any time, out of nowhere..

On the whole, we generally don’t expect them to.

As such, our monogamous relationships are, ideally, “Until death do us part” meaning “Until we both die of old age, preferably around the same time.”

To the extent that closely bonded humans are emotionally devastated by the loss of that life partner.

To many of us, a life partner is also counted as lost if they engage in sexual infidelity, and if this happens, we are just as devastated (if not even more devastated) as we could have been if that partner had died.

Pigeons are a prey species that evolved in a cheetah-and-thompson’s-gazelle-style arms race with the Peregrine Falcon.

Their monogamous relationships version of “Until Death do us part” can be better translated; “Until one or the other of us gets eaten on a foraging trip.”

And sexual fidelity does not enter into the equation for a pigeon unless their partner is treading or being tread by some one else at the exact moment that bird wants to tread or be tread by their partner.

A cock who wants sex will seek out his wife first, but if she is not interested, he will go asking all the hens away from their nest until one agrees and crouches for him.

If his mate changes her mind and wants him to tread her, she will seek him out and crouch to present herself.

He will tread his wife, and after they do the cute little “I just had sex” dance that’s reserved for mated pairs (side flings get neither this nor courtship. Just sex and separate.) she goes off to do what ever she wanted to do.

If the cock is satisfied, he goes with his wife.

If he still needs or wants more sex, he can tread as many hens as he wants. His wife will not care, because she has had her turn.

If a hen wants sex, she will seek out her husband, generally, but if he’s busy or away, she’ll present for who ever she likes.

Her husband does not care who filled the egg. He only cares that she lays it in his nest and he gets to help set and raise it.

Pigeons divorce partners they consider to be inadequate. Cocks who fail to fill eggs, hens who refuse to set eggs, partners of either sex that don’t spend enough time reaffirming their bond with their spouses...

Unrequited relationships and love triangles are also relationships that pigeons find themselves in.

A pair is considered to have divorced if one partner or the other moves in and spends their nights in the nest of another partner, not for mating with some one else.

Some times, divorces are mutual, and both birds move on to other mates.

Some times, they are not. And the partner left will pine and keep making overtures to reconcile with the partner that left them.

But when a mate just disappears and doesn’t come back, they are assumed by the remaining partner to have been eaten.

If they were closely bonded, the remaining partner may wait a week or so at most, in case they were lost, in hopes the missing bird will make their way back and reunite.

If, after a week, the remaining bird is keeping to them self and not socializing, something is physically wrong, and anthropomorphizing it as “depressed” can get the bird killed.

The veterinary term ‘depression’ describes an animal that is physically ill, be that from a pathogen attacking it to ingesting or absorbing a toxin or simple vitamin or mineral deficiency.

For example;

A week after I became aware that breeding pigeons could become salt deficient and gave the flock a salt and trace mineral brick, birds that had shown no interest in bonding or courting for months are suddenly flirting with everything that moves.

They were not too traumatized to before.

They had a mineral deficiency.

They did not court because they did not feel good.

With the addition of their supplement brick, lo and behold, they all feel better and are courting again.

I have an entire flock to take care of, and I am responsible for the wellbeing of every individual I bring into the world.

To avoid overcrowding, I have a cap of 10 breeding pair.

Because that is the number of adults and their offspring under 6 months old that my loft can comfortably house.

When ever a new breeding bird leaves quarantine or a keeper reaches 6 months, a bird of the same sex has to be retired and made available to avoid overcrowding and the stress and disease that come with it.

Who retires when is not arbitrary.

There are very strict criteria.

1. Physical health.

Regardless of whether or not I have a replacement ready, a bird who may be hurt by the physical process of reproduction or the strain of rearing young, or who may pass on genes that may be harmful to potential offspring is retired on the spot and adopted out with a strict nonbreeding agreement.

Gus is a sweet boy,

But this happens to him every molt, and we have since found out that it runs in both sides of his family, proving it to be genetic and cumulative.

As cute as he and Leela were together, I cannot let him breed.

Because I would have to be a monster to be willing to knowingly pass that painful condition on to another generation.

He has a forever family familiar with his condition to whom he is going on Monday.

2. Undesirable structure

I do not mean anything as stupid as “This animal isn’t pretty enough.”

Cody is not only gorgeous, but an excellent father who has served our program very well.

But his muffs are big enough to make walking uncomfortable, so while I like the rest of his traits, that’s one I want to breed away from.

Now that I have a brother and Sister of his with short muffs that do not cause them discomfort, 

Farthing 

and suki

will continue contributions to the project

and Cody is available.

3. Antisocial behavior that disrupts or disturbs their flock mates.

Indica

And Pookie 

Are the poster children for flock disruption.

They are a gay and bi mated pair of cocks, who are literally turned on by prying other treading pairs off of each other.

If they see another pair treading, Indica will grab the hen by the scruff, Pookie will grab the cock by his, and they will pull in opposite directions, prying the treading pair apart, and marching them in opposite directions towards the wall.

Indica and Pookie will then throw the bird they have at the wall and then run back to meet each other in the center of the floor, smooch-feed each other back and forth, and take turns treading each other.

On top of this, they defend 15 of the 36 total nest boxes in my loft, refusing to pick a specific one or let any other pair settle in a box to lay.

You may or may not have noticed that when I advertised the available birds on Thursday, I made a point of saying that I would prefer these two be adopted together because they are bonded and would be happier that way.

A prospective new family is coming to meet them on Monday.

But they are SUCH a violent disruption to their flock mates that if only one had a home lined up, it would be unkind to the rest of the flock to keep them both on the insistence that they go together.

4. Shitty parenting history

Parents who tend to ignore eggs or peeps, leaving all the work of setting or feeding to their partner.

This is a personality trait, and such a parent puts dangerous strain on their partner and stress on their peeps. 

Their partner will usually divorce them for that, so adopting the bad parent out isn’t “Splitting up a bonded pair”.

Their former spouse is usually looking for or has found some one else with out any interference on my part.

5. Too many offspring/grandchildren

This is to avoid any more inbreeding than necessary.

Betty is one of the best studs here.

He is an outstanding father who sits tight on his eggs, pumps his peeps full, and educates them carefully though weaning.

MANY are his children and grand children, and he has a strong preference for birds with faces like his.

He has already bred with his niece to produce Sherry, and I would like to avoid having him breed to any more of his kin.

Once his peep with Liang is weaned, he will be adopted.

Liang is very skittish, and she liked him right off the bat, so I delayed his retirement to give her more time to feel secure with the flock.

But with her egg hatching, she is allowing herself to be casually flirt with more.

Wukong still likes her. So do Cherub and Ginger, so she’ll have her pick when Betty goes to his new home.

6. Temperament

The Therapy Bird Project is working towards developing a performance breed with a temperament conducive to Therapy work.

All else being equal; The birds are all physically sound with no known detrimental genes, no embellishments too exaggerated, not overly aggressive to flock mates, great parents... Then the bird least interested in human company gets retired.

The ground work of physical and mental base soundness has to be laid first and foremost for that excellent temperament I’m aiming for to shine in their handler’s lives for as long as possible.

You probably have not noticed that when bonded pairs retire at the same time, I make a thing of them being bonded in hopes that they will be adopted together.

Dodger and Alex retired close enough to each other that both are still here, and I would prefer they be adopted together.

But if one of them gets a perfect home lined up where I think that individual will be happy, I will not refuse them that good home for the sake of not splitting up a pair.

You care about the idea of that a LOT more than the pigeons themselves do.

[bookishofalder]

Night Changes [Five]

Series Masterlist

Summary: Poe and the reader eagerly focus on their friendship. Unfortunately for them, life isn’t that easy.

Warnings: Language, mentions of smut, violence, injuries. WC: 11.1K

A/N: Please enjoy this failed attempt at fluff. Also, thank you to @hoeforthefictional for inspiring a scene in this chapter (see: Charlie’s shirts)

Your hand smacked against the cool steel of the dining table as you snorted, “That is not true!” You exclaimed, watching Poe run his hand over his mouth to try and hide his smile, though you could still see him shaking with laughter. “Poe that was Charlie, it was NOT me!”

“Sure Sweetheart,” He drawled through his chuckles, quirking a brow at you, “Charlie convinced your dad that we could all be trusted on our own for the weekend. ‘Cause, he was the one with the big sad eyes your dad fell for every time.”

You groaned, knowing Poe was right, your giggles confirming it to him even though you didn’t outright admit it. “Well you were the one who suggested we try to nab some booze at Eddard’s,” You pointed at him accusingly as memories of you, Charlie and Poe as preteens trying to break into a closed cantina to steal spotchka replayed in your mind. “I was the only one the old man didn’t hit.”

“My ass smarted for a week after that,” Poe frowned at the memory and you giggled again. He grinned over at you, and you felt a flush of delight at the early morning banter, each of you sipping your caf as the golden sun streamed in through the high windows and the room steadily grew busier around you.

It had been a few weeks since your return from the classified mission, the data collected on the outpost proving to be immeasurably useful, earning you both a very pleased smile from the General. A larger secondary team was already there; though they were outfitted with greater protective equipment and a lot more manpower to clear back some of the overgrown jungle from the base and work to bring it back up and running.

While it was a severe break in protocol, neither you nor Poe included the exposure to the red flower pollen in your mission reports. You described the sighting of the plant, cautioned approached and advised the settlement team to wear protective gear, but that was all. Though a mild amount of guilt settled in your stomach for the breach, the idea of writing down what had happened, of being hauled for questioning and medically assessed, was more than enough to make you feel it was the right decision.

It had taken three days to return to base from the mission. Even after your long conversation with Poe assuring him you were alright and that you didn’t blame him for what happened, he still walked around you like he was afraid any moment you would crack and reveal your anger or mistrust. He’d pointedly refused to touch you or come too close after the initial embrace you shared, and although you disagreed with his reasoning, you couldn’t help the relief that you felt because something about being close to him, touching him, stirred feelings inside you that you didn’t want to address.

It made it easier to focus on repairing your friendship if you maintained a slight distance from the man you’d known your entire life. Better to set aside any feelings or thoughts and work to find your way back to the version of yourself you missed. The one who had been happy. You wanted to be her again because the lonely woman you’d become was less than ideal. And you had missed Poe more than you’d admit.

You just wished you could stop the dreams.

“You know,” You spoke slowly, your eyes losing focus as you thought back to those younger years, “I’m pretty sure that was the weekend I became obsessed with learning about Mandalore. I saw that picture of the really famous one up in the cantina and wanted to know everything about it all.” You shook your head at your youthful silliness, the crush you’d developed for the faceless bounty hunter simply from hearing the tales of his heroics. You’d even had a-

“Remember the picture you had?” Poe cut into your thoughts and you refocused on him, “You had that up for years, on the back of your door, a street artist's painting of the rogue Mandolorian, Charlie teased you all the time for having it.” He was smiling at the memory, his eyes crinkling slightly.

You stared at Poe in surprise as warmth swept through you. “You remember that?” He shrugged, his eyes flicking away to glance at the table as if he was suddenly self-conscious, surprised at himself.

“Yeah, I...” You watched as he appeared to steal himself, his cheeks dusted with colour. “I remember everything. It was always us three, wasn’t it? I’d never forget Charlie or y-you.”

When he looked up again his eyes were burning with bright intensity. You couldn’t bring yourself to look away, even as your heartbeat tripled and emotion swelled inside you. Everything else-the noise of the caf, the sounds of others laughter and conversations-it all faded into the background as Poe and you regarded one another across the table.

A hand coming down onto your shoulder jolted you from your thoughts. You glanced up to find Temmin grinning at you both as he moved to take a seat next to you. “Morning, morning,” He glanced over mischievously at Poe, then back to you, “Sorry to interrupt your eye-fuck session, just wondering if you saw our surveillance got moved up?”

Poe was quicker to recover, pulling Temmin’s attention from you as heat flooded your face and you gaped wordlessly. “Uh, to now, I’m assuming?” Poe spared you a glance, his eyes unreadable as you swallowed, embarrassed at your reaction.

You’d anticipated those close to you or Poe to tease you both about the renewed friendship, entirely unsurprised that Temmin was the leading comedian about the entire thing. He’d happily jumped on any excuse to tease, but even though you were never one to flinch away from adult banter, the occasional sexually suggestive comments brought you straight back to the memories from your mission and rendered you speechless each time.

Pursing your lips, you took the last sip of your caf and stood up, your hands automatically sweeping down the front of your flight suit to straighten any wrinkles. You tried to give a half-hearted smile, hoping Temmin didn’t start to think you had a shitty sense of humour.

“I’m going to get started on pre-flight, in that case.”

You glanced at Poe and found he was already watching you, his lips quirking up in a way that made your insides bubble confusingly. Before you could turn away, however, Temmin was gently grabbing your forearm.

“Don’t uh, go that way, use the longer route. For your sanity.” He suggested, grimacing as you groaned in frustration.

“Kriff. Thanks, Snap.” You spun and stalked in the opposite direction, your eyes still scanning to ensure that you didn’t accidentally run into Rush despite Temmin’s warning.

The Healer had not taken kindly to your outright disinterest, apparently taking Poe’s interference at the cantina before your mission as a challenge. You felt you had enough on your plate now to justify not telling him point-blank to fuck off. You’d instead found yourself actively avoiding him, going so far as to duck into storage closets to hide, or in the case of two days ago, hide behind the broader frame of your Captain when you’d spotted the Rush walk into the hangar and look around for you.

Temmin had started to goad you after Rush had departed, stopping when he saw the look on your face and you’d resigned yourself to explain the situation. When you’d finished, he’d offered to talk to the Healer for you, suggested the Poe could and would step in as well, but you had been very clear that you didn’t want either of them to deal with your issues and told Temmin in no uncertain terms to keep the situation from Poe. He had been going out of his way in previous weeks to be kind to you. His continued (and entirely unnecessary) attempts to make up for everything that had happened, both on the mission and before. Having him do another favour for you when you had yet to figure out how to give back to Poe, didn’t sit right with you.

So you snuck out of the back of the dining hall and hoped you’d bought yourself more time to figure your shit out.

Earlier that morning

His curls were softer than you’d remembered, you loved sinking your hands into them and gripping. Your head felt so heavy that you felt yourself drop it into his neck, your heart swelling at how right it felt to nuzzle into Poe as he held you.

Fuck, it felt so good to straddle him this way, not just for how close your bodies were, how easily you could kiss him, but because his thick, long cock hit the best spots inside you at this angle. It was bliss, delicious, something you should have been doing for years. You rolled your hips as you came, crying out when he slammed you onto him and held you there as he came undone as well, feeling close to passing out when he cried out for you.

“Sweetheart, oh fuck, (y/n)!”

“FUCK!”

You gasped as you woke from your dream, trying to sit up even as your body continued to convulse from your orgasm and small moans tore from you. You gripped the sheets, panting as you floated down from your high, again. Another dream, the same memory replayed over and over every night until you eventually woke up like this, shaking and sweating and cumming.

You sobbed, sitting forward and drawing your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms around yourself as you dropped your head. This needed to stop and you didn’t understand why it wouldn’t. It had started up the first night you were back on D’Qar, always the same; the memory of those finals moments wrapped around Poe, the last orgasms you each had as the pollen had worn off, and then you’d wake up as you came. You’d tried masturbating before bed just to try and curb the need, but that hadn’t helped in the least. You were desperate now, confused and exhausted from waking up day after day filled with an intense need for something you shouldn’t want.

A good part of you thought your sleeping brain was just cruel, taunting you for what had occurred. But the logical side of your brain noted that it could very well be an aftereffect of the exposure to the pollen, perhaps the last dregs of it working its way from your system when you were most vulnerable. But since you hadn’t reported the exposure, there was no way to find out. It wasn’t like you were going to ask Poe if he was experiencing anything similar-either response he could give was equally as mortifying just to imagine.

Kicking your sheets away, you glanced at your clock and noted the early hour before stalking angrily into your fresher to take a shower. A cold one, because despite the daily orgasms you were waking up from, you were constantly on edge, hornier than you’d been in a long time.

It didn’t help that you were a touch-starved, lonely and unattached woman. Aside from what had happened with Poe on the mission, you hadn’t had sex in a long time and even the last few times you did, it wasn’t anything spectacular. Which was why you’d been almost ready to let Rush take you to bed before, just to feel something pleasurable.

And now...now you wanted to run away from all pleasure.

+

Poe watched as you hurried out of the room, your shoulders stiff and he frowned when you glanced hastily toward the other doorway before slipping out of view. He looked at Temmin, who was giving him a knowing, guilty kind of smile from across the table. “What the hell was that about?”

Temmin considered his words for a long moment, rapping his knuckles on the table. Finally, he said, “Major hasn’t told you?” As if hoping Poe might suddenly realize what was going on with you and let him off the hook. At the same time, his friend appeared unsurprised of the direction the conversation had gone since your odd departure.

Raising a brow at his friend, Poe leaned forward. “No,” He replied slowly, shaking his head, “Told me what?”

“Let me preface this by telling you she asked me not to make you aware of the situation. Healer Derrin has been cornering her around base every day since you’ve been back, trying to convince her to give him another chance,” Temmin paused as Poe shifted from curious to downright outraged, “Don’t look at me like that, I just found out myself like two days ago.”

“But-I-” Poe stammered, half rising from his seat, “What the fuck has he been doing?”

Temmin waved a hand in a calming manner, “Popping up all over, trying to catch her for a conversation. Only reason I found out was that he came into the hangar the other day and she practically climbed on my back hiding behind me from him.”

Beside himself with fury, Poe took several deep breaths to relax. “Fuck,” He growled, running his hands over his face.

A distant part of his mind wondered why he was so physically worked up, ready to seek out the Healer and lay into him. When he glanced up, Temmin was casting an obvious glance to the time and Poe relented, releasing his anger to focus on the task at hand. “Sorry, thank you for telling me. Let’s go.”

With a curt nod, Temmin jumped to his feet and fell into step with Poe as they made their way to the hangar. It didn’t go unnoticed by Poe that his friend cast a wary eye around, no doubt concerned they would run into Rush and he would be required to break up a fight.

Quietly sighing to himself, Poe rationalized that he could focus on patrol, then return to base and seek out Rush for a civil conversation, nothing more. Flying would calm him, help him to clear his head, and despite your request to keep Poe out of it, he wasn’t about to let you down by allowing some dick head to harass you.

-

Patrolling the Resistance base was a duty that fell upon every squadron, regardless of status. Poe knew he could probably convince Leia to let Black team off the hook, considering the number of high-status, incredibly dangerous missions she entrusted them with, however he felt it was good for his team to pull their weight when it came to the less exciting tasks.

It was also a good opportunity for some team building, as you all kept your comms open to have idle chit-chat throughout the shift. “Listen, Poe, Tommy was a lot taller than you. You know it, I know it, hell Temmin knows it! He knew Tommy!” You were giggling now, which was the only reason why Poe had continued to argue that Tommy wasn’t all that much taller than him.

“She’s right, Commander.” Temmin supplied with a chuckle.

Kare’s voice joined in, “I’ve never met this Tommy but he sure sounds a lot taller. Did you date him, Major?”

At the question, Poe felt himself stiffen slightly, suddenly extremely curious to hear your response. You didn’t hesitate, “Oh, maker, no. Never.”

“Wow,” Poe chirped with a laugh, “I’m kind offended for Tommy with how passionately you just said that!”

You laughed, “Tommy wasn’t my type, Kare. We were just friends.”

“But he did ask you out,” Temmin suddenly supplied, unknowingly causing Poe to frown. Tommy had asked you out...when? It can’t have been during Gold team days, because then he’d know about it, if not from you then certainly from Charlie, who was close with Tommy. Which meant that you had seen Tommy at some point after you left and spent enough time with him for the handsome pilot to ask you out. Jealously silenced Poe and he opted to listen only.

“Oh,” You sounded surprised that Temmin knew about it, “Yes, well we were stationed together for a while at an outpost a few years ago.” Though your voice had tightened somewhat, Temmin had apparently not picked up on it and continued speaking, teasing you.

“Huh well, Major, from what I heard via our mutual friend Rico, you two had a 'friends with benefits' thing going on during that assignment.”

You laughed in embarrassment, “Fuck off, Temmin.”

Realizing that his silence was both telling and uncalled for, Poe decided to join back in. “What, sweetheart, embarrassed to admit you liked his man-bun?” He joked, happily drawing further laughs from you and the rest of Black team. Inwardly, however, Poe was spinning and he tuned out of the remainder of the conversation as he fell into deep thought.

It was incredibly wonderful having you back. Despite everything that happened during the mission, the resulting change between Poe and you had exponentially increased his overall happiness. It felt, in some ways, like old times. The void that was Charlie was there, ever-present but not always overwhelming, sometimes it was just a hum of grief in the background as you walked next to Poe, your shoulder occasionally brushing his arm, or when you laughed fully and your eyes crinkled the same way Charlie’s had.

And stars, you were funny-Poe had always thought you had a great sense of humour, but the past few years had given you a slightly harsher perspective, something that most Resistance fighters developed in time. It meant your wit was a little drier, your sarcasm in great abundance. He’d laughed more these past few weeks than he had in years, something that didn’t escape Temmin’s notice, his friend often shooting him a knowing wink when you weren’t looking.

Professionally, not a whole lot had changed, though conversation and directives were less chopped, he was proud to know that despite the tension and anger that had been between you before the mission, you had both worked immensely well together.

He had been terrified that you would leave again, despite your assurances on the contrary. He wouldn’t even have blamed you if you had; he remembered everything that happened, the way he’d touched you, the dark bruises and marks he’d littered across your soft skin, and the things he said. The harsh, cruel words still twisted in the back of his mind, surging to the forefront at random to taunt him, force him to relive the way he’d demeaned you. But you hadn’t left, in fact, Poe was pretty certain that the first few days back you had barely left his side just to prove to him that you wouldn’t, and he was grateful for that more than he could tell you.

He was grateful to have you back, to banter and tease, to see your smile brighten the room every day, usually because of something he had said. His old feelings were stirring, never really having faded altogether, but he was eager to push them down again and focus on the friendship. He needed to reign in his jealousy over something that had happened years ago between you and Tommy.

There was no reason good enough to admit how he had felt before Charlie died, and certainly, nothing in the galaxy could convince him to confess to you how he was starting to feel now.

It was better, he thought, to just be friends. Safer.

Earlier that morning

Your skin was soft, delightfully silky and smooth under his rough fingers, and he enjoyed gripping you harder, pulling your hips to his as he filled you, over and over. Your warm body pressed against his as you straddled his lap, your moans weak and head lolling from the pleasure.

The feel of your head falling to his neck, your body curling into him as your orgasm hit.

“Oh Poe, don’t stop!” The way you said his name. How you clenched around him, pulling him to his own peak. The feeling that was coming inside of you, bliss and rightness of the action intensely overwhelming as you shivered in his arms.

With a start, Poe woke up, his dream-induced orgasm ripping from him. He was unable to do more than groan in pleasure, his hips rutting against the mattress as his cum spurted, hands gripping his pillow. Biting his lip, the shame washed over him before he’d fully finished cumming, his groan morphing into a pitiful sound of desperation.

Every fucking day he woke up much the same, his dream-memories of those final moments under the grip of the pollen replaying over and over until he woke up mid-orgasm. He hadn’t had wet dreams since he hit puberty, for Maker’s sake. He thought it must be an aftereffect of the pollen, further proof the intensity and potency of the red flower was beyond anything he’d ever heard of.

Grunting in frustration, Poe climbed out of bed and retrieved a towel to clean up his mess. Turning on the shower, he glanced at the time, happy that he had enough time to rinse off before meeting you for what was becoming a routine morning caf.

He kept the water cold, punishing himself for his dreams and wishing like hell he could erase the images of you, so beautiful and soft around him, from his mind.

+

It was ideal that the man essentially stalking you was a Healer because it meant that he was relatively easy to track down on base. Healers had long shifts in the med-bay and usually didn’t stray far from base in case something major happened that required additional medical support. Poe was walking to the med bay now, leaving you with Temmin and your funny friend Ana back in the dining hall, to confront Rush.

He’d come up with a simple excuse to step away, stating he required a few essentials from the commissary and wanting to get there before they closed. You were eating slowly tonight and he had taken advantage of that and Ana’s rare presence-something that would keep you in the dining hall much longer, conversation flowing, so that he could slip off to the med-bay.

He’d felt your eyes watching him as he excused himself, burning into the back of his neck as he tried to walk as casually as possible out of the room. As soon as he was clear, he sped up in case you decided to follow him, but a glance over his shoulder before he turned the corner a few minutes later proved he was right that you would linger with Ana instead.

As he walked along the halls, nodding and smiling at anyone he passed, Poe attempted to steady and control his emotions. He would ask Rush to leave you be; be nice but incredibly firm. Advise the healer that it was in his own best interest to keep things professional unless you did indicate you were interested. As he argued with himself on the best way to word the request, Charlie’s image floated around in his head, reminding him that if he was still alive and some dick head was bothering you, he would be the one to calmly protect you. Poe was the less than calm protector, but he needed to channel your brother here because he hoped to prevent you from finding out he’d cornered Rush.

As he approached the final stretch of the hallway that led into the med-bay, a nurse just coming off duty came walking along in the opposite direction. Poe recognized the older woman, brightening when she glanced up and saw him. “Evening, Rosie, how are you?” He flashed her his best grin.

With an affectionate roll of her eyes, Rosie calm to a halt in front of Poe, “Good evening Commander, what brings you to our neck of the woods? You don’t look injured unless your big head is giving you a headache.”

This was why Poe liked her, she was the type to catch on to bullshit and funny as hell. He couldn’t help his bark of a laugh, “No, I’ve gotten pretty good at lugging it around,” He replied, “Listen, can I ask you a quick question before you head off for a night of dancing with a lucky guy?”

“Lucky lady,” She corrected with a wink, and Poe smiled apologetically with a nod, “And go ahead, what’s up?”

“Right, my mistake, although now that I think of it I don’t think any of us men could survive your charms,” He joked, pulling a laugh from the deadpan nurse, “I’m looking for Healer Derrin, do you happen to know where I could find him?”

Something close to a knowing look flashed in her eyes then, but Rosie didn’t comment. “His shift just ended, actually. He left for the hangar roughly, oh, ten minutes ago.” She glanced at her wrist comm for the time, nodding to herself at her estimation.

Poe frowned, realizing that it was routine for you to have left dinner already to go to the hangar to input your mission report for the day and perform your check of his and your own ships. Because you were dining with Ana, however, you hadn’t left yet. “Thank you, Rosie.” He gently clasped her shoulder as she smiled at him with that look still in her eyes, but she merely bid him farewell before he spun around a hurried away, taking the quickest route to the hangar.

When he arrived, the hangar was fairly quiet, only a few lingering mechanics wandering about, several service droids cleaning the large space and performing nighttime checks. Still wearing his medical clothing, Rush was easy to spot as he stood near your ship across the room, eyes staring off at nothing as he waited to see if you’d turn up.

When he heard Poe’s footsteps approaching, he turned with a hopeful look before spotting him and shifting to a placating smile. “Evening, Commander!”

Poe stopped a few feet short Rush and tried his best to return the smile, “Healer,” His voice was clipped, and he took a careful breath in an attempt to keep calm and channel Charlie. Friendly, to the point, no need to get worked up. “What brings you here so late?”

Rush shrugged, “Hoping to catch the little bird that keeps flying off,” He admitted, gesturing at your ship, “Can’t seem to get any face-to-face time with her, but I’m hoping to clear things up and start fresh. Think I moved too quickly before.”

Poe plastered his face with a neutral expression as his insides burned upon hearing Rush refer to you as ‘little bird’. “Listen, man, I’ve known (y/n) my whole life and I don’t think she’s interested, I mean, it’s been weeks since your date and she’s been avoiding you since.” Poe kept his voice as steady as possible, not wanting his tone to convey anything other than mild interest.

Rush bristled immediately, however, “That your objective opinion, Dameron?”

His voice was pointedly not steady and his tone was anything but mild. Still, Poe held up his hands in a placating gesture, “It is, and it’s kind of...uh, obvious, I guess.”

Poe watched as Rush took a measured step closer to him, though this didn’t serve to intimidate as the Healer stood an easy couple of inches shorter than him. “You’re full of shit. You’re telling me this because you want to fuck her,” He glared up at Poe, who was frowning as he fought his internal battle to remain calm. “Actually, noticed you two are buddy-buddy all of a sudden; so that’s it, isn’t it? You went off together for nearly two weeks and she spread her pretty legs for you-“

Well, no one could say Poe didn’t try. His fist was connecting with Rush’s smug face before the Healer could continue his vulgar accusation, falling back a few steps before regaining his balance and shooting a glare that did nothing to intimidate Poe.

Forcing himself not to move in for another punch, Poe pointed his finger at Rush, “Shut the fuck up, asshole. I never want to hear you talk about her that way again, got it?”

Rush scoffed, his hand rubbing along his reddening jaw, “You’re only proving me right, reacting like that. Either you want her so you’re trying to prevent me from having a chance, or you already had her,” The Healer was seething mad, clearly not thinking straight. He didn’t seem to see the tension rolling over Poe’s body, anger coiling within and ready to burst forth in more than just a single punch. Or maybe a handsome guy like Rush Derrin couldn’t stand the idea of having a competitor, as he seemed to view Poe, and it clouded his usual ‘nice guy’ personality entirely, made him mean, made him say things that he really, really shouldn’t. “Tell me, what is she like when you’re balls deep-does she moan as loud as I-“

This time, Poe didn’t hold his anger back into a single punch, he opted instead to launch himself at Rush, whose eyes flashed in fear just before he was taken to the ground. Fistfights weren’t something that Poe usually got himself into anymore, though he’d had more than his share growing up. He held himself to higher standards now, especially considering his high rank within the Resistance, the respect he had from his fellow fighters.

All of that was out the window though as he wrestled on the hangar floor with Rush, who gave a yell of anger as he tried to out fist Poe. He was strong, a decent enough match physically despite being shorter than Poe, who twisted his hips to roll Rush in a flurry of movement, eager not to end up bested by being pinned under the man. He did feel the punches he gained in return, particularly a stinging blow to his cheek that seemed to hit directly on the apple, skin splitting on contact. Rush was wasting energy on cursing and yelling insults, most of which didn’t register with Poe as blood rushed loudly in his ears, rage only intensifying.

It was only a few moments of fighting at this point, not long enough for anyone who had been on the other side of the hangar to have made it over already to break them up. This was why Poe stiffened in complete surprise when he saw a figure approaching quickly in his peripheral vision, which distracted him just enough for Rush to take advantage and roll heavily, slamming Poe into the floor. He felt his head hit the concrete, though it wasn’t too hard of a blow it was disorienting. Before he could even begin to attempt to get Rush off of him, however, the figure that had first distracted him now came directly into view over Poe.

It was you.

But you weren’t yelling for them to stop like he would have imagined you would do. Instead, from his vantage on the ground, Poe witnessed your fury first hand, so much more intense than he’d seen in years. But the night of Charlie’s funeral that fury had been lined with grief and heartbreak. Now, you looked shockingly terrifying as you swiftly launched yourself at Rush, tackling him off of Poe in one motion before rolling with ease and jumping back to your feet.

When you pointed your blaster down at the Healer, who lay flat on his back in complete shock, even Poe flinched at the look on your face.

“Don’t you fucking touch him,” You hissed, your voice cold and low. There were a few people nearby, all who’d frozen upon seeing the Major asserting her authority over the lower level Healer. Though he partially flushed with pride and equal parts surprise, Poe was quick to scramble to his feet and hurry to your side. “I forbid you to enter this hangar again unless it’s for medical purposes, got it?”

Poe could see that your finger wasn’t on the trigger of your blaster, the safety clicked on still. All the same, your reaction was completely out of character and he wanted to stop that cold, harsh look on your face in its tracks, even if it wasn’t directed at him.

“Sweetheart,” He murmured, quiet enough that only Rush could discern his words, “Let’s take a walk, let Healer Derrin go and lick his wounds.”

The moment you dropped the blaster, Rush was on his feet and hurrying out of the hangar, blissfully silent, entirely amusing. Poe glanced around to the others nearby and gave a friendly nod of release, and they broke away to finish their work. Placing a hand carefully on your lower back, he put a slight pressure and started to walk, relieved when you complied and holstered your blaster.

Though he’d suggested the walk, you seemed to take control of the direction and somehow Poe found himself stepping through the door of your room minutes later. He barely had a moment to glance around at the minimally decorated space, his eyes again finding your pinned copy of his favourite photo on the corkboard, before you rounded on him.

You weren’t as furious as you had been before, but he still took a measured step away from under the heat of your gaze, flinching as he waited for you to begin yelling at him for interfering in your life, for embarrassing you, bracing himself for your wrath.

Instead, your angry gaze met his own and you faltered, your eyes flicking over his face and Poe watched the anger melt away, your expression softening into concern. “Oh, Poe,” You sighed, closing the distance between you both to reach up and carefully grab his jaw with one hand, turning his head to peer up at the cheek he’d taken the worst punch to, “Are you alright?”

You dropped your hand, not completely as he would have expected but to rest on his chest, just over his heart. Poe felt himself stiffen again, the casual way you touched him driving him almost into a frenzy of confusion and hope and fear.

“I’m fine, I can take a punch,” He grinned, cringing when his cheek stung from the movement. “Might need to pop a bacta-patch over this, though.” He reached up and carefully prodded the split skin, hissing at the pain.

You stepped away, tugging Poe by the arm, “Sit,” You ordered, pushing him toward your bed. He perched himself on the edge and watched as you went to the med-kit you kept in your fresher to pull out bacta-patches. “I knew you weren’t going to the commissary.” You added when you walked back toward Poe, grabbing your desk chair and setting it in front of him before taking a seat.

“In my defence, I was being nice at first,” Poe said as you wiped away the blood on his face before gently placing the patch, your eyes focused on your work. “He uh, turned out to be a bit more hot-headed than I’d have thought.”

You snorted, “I came in too late to know who hit who first, but you don’t need to defend yourself,” Picking up another wipe, you cleaned around the patch and some spots along the rest of his face that must have had blood splatter. “I made Temmin tell me if he told you about Rush. I know you were fighting with him because of me. And that’s...that’s why I hadn't mentioned it, actually.”

Poe stared at you for a beat, “What do you mean?”

“I just,” You sighed, your eyes searching his face before you tossed the wipe in the trash and you sat back in your seat. He already missed the feel of your hands on his skin. “I knew you would want to talk to him, and that could lead to a fistfight or whatever on my behalf, and I didn’t want you to put yourself in that position just for me.”

“Just for you?” Poe repeated in surprise, leaning forward, his arms resting on his knees, to look at you closely, “Sweetheart, come on, you know I’d do anything for you.”

You nodded, but Poe wondered if you understood how serious he was, how he wouldn’t hesitate, wouldn’t question. Or maybe you did understand and that was why you looked slightly afraid, your face flushed as Poe gazed at you intently.

“Poe, you’ve been going out of your way for me since we’ve been back. You know it’s all...we’re good, I trust you,” You leaned forward, your face mere inches from Poe’s, and took his hands into yours, “So you don’t need to keep proving yourself, I promise.”

Poe felt himself nodding as he looked at you, gazed into your bright eyes and saw the sincerity in them, the emotion. He was still, afraid to move now that there was nothing between either of you, fully aware that you were alone together in a locked room and nothing could interrupt you. He felt himself blush, heat crawling up his neck, and Poe wanted to lean away and clear his throat and push back everything he was feeling but you were making it too difficult, sitting there with wide eyes and plump lips and a look so earnest, so trusting that he was transported straight back to the first time he’d wanted to kiss you.

But the thing was, he was a skinny teenager back then, and it had been easy to talk himself back and resist the urge because of Charlie. Because he didn’t want to offend you. Because your mom was just down the hall and could walk in at any moment.

But here, Poe wasn’t a teenager anymore, and for that matter neither were you. No, you were both fully grown adults, a fact he was keenly aware of as his eyes moved from yours, slowly, and he saw the way your lips were parted, the flush up your neck, the way your chest was heaving slightly.

He’d never wanted to be braver in his entire life.

Just as he thought of closing the gap, though, an image surfaced. The memory of you, trembling on the table after the pollen had worn off, just before he could give you the bacta shot, your body littered with marks he’d put there, the marks that were in the nightmares he kept having. Bile rose in his throat and he was sure you sensed the shift then because you were pulling away even before Poe broke the connection of your gazes and eased his hands from your grasp.

It was quiet for a minute, each of you looking determinedly away from the other. You stood, and Poe glanced up, fearing you were going to ask him to leave. You had a thoughtful look on your face, however, and moved over to your dresser instead. He watched as you opened the lowest drawer, flipping through the contents.

“I realized the other day that you didn’t have any of Charlie’s clothing because of course, I’d taken it all,” You straightened, turning around with a small stack of shirts clutched in your hands, “But I shouldn’t have done that, so here, take these.” And you held the stack out to him, biting your lip as you did.

Poe’s heart stuttered in his chest and he had to blink a few times to clear the sting of tears threatening the corners of his eyes. “These were...Charlies’?” You nodded, your eyes swimming with similar emotion. He took them from you and looked down at the familiar, worn fabric in a variety of colours, each shirt soft and well cared for. “Sweetheart, I don’t know what to say.”

He stood up, gripping the clothes in one hand before carefully reaching out and wrapping his arm around your head, pulling you close and kissing your hair. You were stiff in his arms, but he felt you patting his mid-back. “You don’t have to say anything, flyboy.”

—

It was very rare that you found yourself in your current position, crouched outside of Poe Dameron’s window late at night, grateful that his father slept on the lower floor of their home because he found it cooler. And even though you knew Mr. Dameron wouldn’t be mad if he found you sneaking into his son’s room, because you and Poe were together most of the time anyway since forever, you didn’t want him to interrupt your attempt to apologize to your friend.

You carefully slid the window open, your eyes attempting to adjust to the darkened room within but there was no light this evening, even the stars were hidden by clouds that threatened rain you knew wouldn’t come for another day at least. You were gazing in the direction of where you knew his bed was, so when hands shot out to grab you from almost right in front of you, you couldn’t help the squeak you let out, still desperate to be quiet, before promptly falling backwards. You wondered if you were about to break your arm again, and it had only just healed the month before. Kriff.

Thankfully Poe had already grabbed your waist, his hands gripping tighter when you lost your balance before he pulled you through his window with a grunt, both of you tumbling down due to the force he’d used to ensure you didn’t fall. Landing clumsily on top of him with a thud, you both froze in the dark, listening for any sounds from downstairs.

You waited a few minutes, heart pounding in your ears, wishing you could at least see Poe’s face but it was too dark, you could only make out the faint outline of him. You could tell he was looking up at you, but that was about it. Feeling confident Mr. Dameron was still fast asleep, you shuffled off of Poe, only his hands were still gripping your waist, so you ended up kneeling right next to him.

“Poe?” You whispered, moving a hand down to pat the back of one of his, “I think we’re good-sorry, I wanted to-“

Poe’s angry sigh halted your words in their tracks, and you felt his fingers flex before he released you and moved away. After a pause, light from a small lamp bathed the room in a low, golden glow and your best friend came into view, standing a few feet away with his arms crossed over his chest.

“I heard your apology the first time, (y/n),” He hissed, and you hated the way he said your name, that he even said it at all when you were used to him only referring to you as ‘sweetheart’. “Breaking in to say it again doesn’t really-“

You had climbed to your feet, dusting off your knees before glaring up at Poe, “Fine, I won’t apologize again. But I’m not leaving until you talk to me, tell me how I can fix this.”

Poe ran a hand wearily over his face, not meeting your eyes. Guilt and shame and sadness were all that you felt these past several days as Poe actively avoided you, refused to even look at you, because of what you’d said. And you hadn’t meant it, you really didn’t, it just slipped out in a moment of heated disagreement and you wished you could eat the words back up before you’d fully finished speaking. The look he’d given you...

“I don’t know, I just need some time,” He grumbled, still not looking at you. You took a half step closer, hoping to draw his gaze. Disappointed when he only frowned harder and kept his eyes on the wall. “I know you’re sorry, but you still fucking said it.”

“And I have no excuse for it, Poe, I was out of line. I was angry and I wanted to just...”

“You wanted to hurt me.” He finished, and you were shaking your head violently because that wasn’t it, it really wasn’t.

“No, no that’s not why,” You breathed, tears threatening but you swallowed them back, blinking, “You’ve just been so weird lately, and you wouldn’t tell me why so I lost myself and wanted a...a reaction, something, from you.”

Poe’s eyes locked on yours then and you felt yourself shrink inward at the coldness within them, “You said my mother would be ashamed of me. Out loud, to my face. Because I wasn’t explaining why I’ve been moody-which by the way, if you thought about it you’d fucking realize why-so that was your solution?”

His voice had raised only a fraction, a whisper yell in the dim room, yet he might as well have been screaming at you. You deserved for him to rage and yell because you had said that. In a stupid, selfish moment, after weeks of odd behaviour from Poe and another fruitless attempt to ask him what was going on, you’d said his mother would be ashamed of him for shutting you out. You hated yourself for saying it.

You grappled with yourself, struggling to find words and Poe jumped on your silence to continue speaking. “I forget sometimes that you’re just a kid, a silly, spoiled little girl who gets her way all the time,” His words cut through the air like little knives, driving straight into your chest, “But in the real world, when you say mean shit like that you can’t always just bat your pretty lashes and say you’re sorry. Words have consequences, you fucking brat.”

You bristled, despite having known when you decided to come here tonight and beg for forgiveness that he might lash out, you weren’t prepared for Poe to talk down to you like this. Little girl. Spoiled. Brat. Was that really how he saw you?

Was he really going to leave to join the Resistance and you’d never see him again?

“Fuck you,” You gasped, pain lancing your heart as you glared up at your best friend, “You don’t talk to me like that, Poe Dameron. I said a shitty, horrible thing to you and I didn’t mean it and I’ve been trying to apologize, that doesn’t give you the right to speak to me like this. You’re calling me the kid when you-you’re acting like an angry little boy?”

Poe dropped his crossed arms, his mouth opening in fury as he stepped toward you, and you were ready for the fight, for the words to start flowing between you both as whatever the fuck was going on lately seemed to bubble up and over. But the dim lighting of the room left a lot of shadows and darkness, and his sudden movement toward you startled you. You couldn’t help it, you flinched, visibly and almost bone jarringly. You flinched away from Poe, one hand half raising in front of yourself defensively.

And the fight in Poe, that fire and passion, it was out in an instant. Like you had flipped a switch and all the power was sucked from the room. For a moment, he stood frozen in mid-motion, gaping at you as you straightened from your defensive stance, and you shook your head to organize your thoughts, wanting to just apologize again and leave. But he was looking at you so intensely now that you felt like you couldn’t move; like he’d pinned you with his horrified expression.

“Are you-?” His voice almost broke, and he didn’t try to clear it, merely lowered the pitch, “Are you scared of me?”

You wanted to shake your head, but your brain was still processing the shocked look he was giving you, the colour rising to his cheeks as emotion seemed to overwhelm him. Poe looked utterly wrecked at that moment, and even though you knew he needed to hear you speak, to assure him that of course, you weren’t scared of him, the sudden movement and looming shadow on the wall had simply caught you off guard, you couldn’t bring yourself to fucking speak.

“Sweetheart, fuck, I’m so sorry, please don’t be afraid,” He gasped out, holding up both hands slowly, palms facing you, “I would never-shit, sweet, beautiful girl, please don’t be afraid of me, please I’m sorry, I’m so so-“

You cut him off as he started to nearly sob, convinced you were scared of him, that you thought he might hurt you. “Poe, no, I’m not scared!” Regaining the use of your brain, you stumbled forward and threw yourself against Poe’s chest, gripping the soft tee he’d worn to bed, your face pressed over his heart. “I was just startled, I’m not scared of you, I could never be scared of you.”

You could hear his heart hammering away in his chest, feel how tense he was, his hands hovering in the air behind you. His voice was so quiet when he spoke that if you hadn’t had your head so close against him, you wouldn’t have heard.

“I would never hurt you, fuck, I wouldn’t try to intimidate you. I’m sorry I was going to stand closer so I-I could yell without waking dad up, so stupid...” The sob that had been threatening him tore out, crushing your heart a little.

He was ridiculous because you’d know him your whole life and you knew he wasn’t the type of man to physically harm or scare anyone. Sure, he’d been in his share of fistfights, but even you knew he was usually throwing a punch in response, and these last few months he’d been relatively cool-headed, a sign of his maturity.

You pressed your body closer to his before lifting your head to look up at him. Poe was still not touching you, and he was looking across the room unseeingly as he blinked back tears, his expression tense and upset. With slow movements, you reached up to stroke along his jaw, your hand pausing when you first touched him, your heart rate picking up a little when his eyes closed at your touch. You stroked more than the usual three times, repeating the action until his body relaxed against yours, continuing until his hands tentatively moved, one settling on your waist and the other raising to cup your face.

You stood like that for a long moment, your fingers still trailing the familiar path of his stubble, drinking in the way his expression, eyes still closed, softened for you.

“I know you wouldn’t ever hurt me, Poe,” You whispered, “That’s why I’m fucking wrecked that I hurt you. If you don’t want to see me anymore...I understand, I crossed the line like an idiot. Our friendship has always been the most important thing to me and I overstepped and I’m sorry, you’re right that I’m just a stupid little-“

“Stop,” Though it was low, whispered into the room, the command behind the word was enough to silence you and you gazed at Poe in surprise. He looked at you then, and you delighted at the expression he had, so filled with love and care. “I forgive you, I know you didn’t mean it. I saw your face right as you said it...we just, we both got too worked up. We keep doing that, I think because we know Charlie and I leave in less than a year.”

You nodded in agreement, the small movement making you suddenly very aware of how tightly pressed against Poe you were. He was still holding your face gently, but the hand on your waist was gripping you in a way the suggested he felt the proximity as well. You took a shuddering breath, “I love you, Poe. I’m sorry.”

He dropped his head to rest his forehead against yours, his eyes fluttering half shut, and the weirdest thought suddenly cropped up in your head. The most absurd notion that you could easily tilt your head and press your lips to his. You remained still, but couldn’t help but stare at his soft lips as he spoke.

“I love you too, sweetheart,” The hand on your waist clutched you closer, which you hadn't thought was possible, “And I promise I would never hurt you, never lay a finger on you or say something awful that I meant, never. Nothing could ever, ever make me hurt you, sweet, lovely girl.”

You closed your eyes, unable to trust yourself to resist kissing him when he spoke to you like that, his words coated in the deep, suddenly husky tone of voice. And you couldn’t rid those thoughts as he led you over to his bed and you cuddled against him, ready to sleep but your heart thrumming away as you imagined what it would be like to kiss him, your Poe.

What would it be like to be with him, to touch him, to-and you really blushed now, grateful he’d shut the light back off and his light snores were filling the room-feel him hard for you...you’d never been with a guy before, not like that. You’d had some steamy make-out sessions, groped and fondled with cute guys...but the idea of your Poe coming undone for you...

Well, that was suddenly an idea that you were completely unaware would have such an intense impact on you. You let the images play out in your mind for a moment before taking a deep breath and pushing them back and down, convincing yourself it was just a reaction to the adrenaline, the high emotions. Poe’s grip on you tightened in his sleep, and you snuggled closer to lay your head over his heart and listen to the steady beat.

—

Word travelled quickly around base that Rush Derrin had been beaten up by a pilot; the surprising thing was, at least to you, that the pilot in question was you and not Poe. Apparently, Poe scrapping on the floor with Rush wasn’t nearly as interesting or exciting as the story of how you’d tackled Rush, moved to your feet and drawn your blaster on him in one swift motion.

You had grown used to the quiet greetings over the months you’d been on D’Qar, and enjoyed the last few weeks of friendlier hello’s that cropped up in response to your rekindled friendship with Poe, but the tale of your no-nonsense, ego stripping attack on the rude Healer seemed to blast you into the same orbit Poe had been in as the ever-popular poster boy for the Resistance.

Everyone said hello, no matter where you went or the time of day. Ana sought you out the afternoon after to tell you that all the mechanics were raving about how they thought you were snobbish, and now realized you were, in fact, a silent badass. As embarrassing as it all was, it was nothing compared to Poe’s response to your new status.

He was insatiable, eagerly and proudly telling anyone who would listen-and it seemed everyone did want to listen-his first-hand account of watching you tackle Rush. Of how you’d coldly told him off as you followed your professional directive-protect your Commander, no matter the threat. Your shoulders were starting to ache from the number of times he’d clapped his hands over them, rooting you to the spot so that you couldn’t escape the latest admirers, gripping you because he really was proud, really meant everything he said.

“Okay, seriously,” You breathed when you finally broke free from a group of younger pilots, Poe laughing at your side in amusement at your reaction. “Commander, I may have protected you but I can just as easily go ahead and kick you in the-"

“Ah, come on now sweetheart, you wouldn’t do that,” He laughed, a playful arm dropping around your shoulder. Your insides had started reacting to every single touch, lingering or not, that Poe gave you. Which had been happening a lot lately. And it didn’t help matter that he’d look at you the night of his fight with Rush like you had told him you’d hung the moon just for him. You couldn’t shake the memory of the way he’d gazed at you as you sat frozen, inches away.

“Don’t be so sure,” You grumbled, allowing him to lead you to the hangar, “I now have to hope that if either of us gets seriously injured Rush isn’t the Healer on call, because I doubt he’d be much help now.” You noticed then that even though you were still passing people, and those people were smiling at you, no one had stopped you or spoken to either you or Poe.

Confused, you frowned up at Poe, intending to ask him, but the words died on your tongue.

No one was stopping you because they didn’t want to interrupt Commander Dameron and Major Horn, happily wrapped around each other, looking exactly like a love-struck couple. You were sure that a previous version of yourself, the one who existed years and years ago, would have quickly sprung out of Poe’s reach and laughed awkwardly, made an excuse to run to the fresher. Instead, a feeling grew inside of you that felt a lot like...

Possession. But that wasn’t right, was it?

Poe wasn’t yours, not like that. It was almost like there were two parts of you reacting to the increasing touches; the part that enjoyed the familiarity of his affection, and a part that starved for more and grew hungrier every time it was fed. It made it hard, impossible even, to sort through your real feelings for Poe. Because you did love him, you did feel yourself flush at the idea that others were viewing you as a couple, and yet...the path of your thoughts seemed to reroute itself constantly, focusing on the physical and craving more of it.

Maybe this was your problem before, you couldn’t admit to yourself how you felt toward Poe and it ended up being twisted up until Charlie died. You’d admitted to yourself that the biggest reason you’d fled was that you had realized, all those years ago, that you were in love with Poe. Was that what this was now? Old feelings slamming back home with startling intensity?

Then why could you only focus on his hands on you, if that was the case?

He’d noticed you’d gone quiet and came to a sudden halt in the empty hall, glancing down at you curiously, his eyes darker than normal. You felt his arm hold you a little tighter, the hand on your shoulder gripping almost too hard.

It felt really good.

Fuck, what the fuck.

“Sweetheart?” He searched your face, brows pinching in confusion.

Feeling a little dazed, you shook your head to clear your mind, keenly aware that there was no space between your bodies, that you could press up against him easily. And you were warm, actually. Really, really warm.

“Sorry,” You murmured, forcing yourself to give him a placating little grin, “Just...a little overwhelmed, I think.” You admitted, conceding a partial truth that you knew would suffice.

Instantly, his expression softened and he was backing up, pulling you with him until he was leaning against the wall. He spread his feet apart and pulled you to stand between them, his hands moving to cup your face gently as he looked down at you with kind eyes. You think you stopped breathing. You think he did too. He seemed surprised at his actions.

“I’m sorry, I’ve been teasing you for days,” He sighed after a pause, one thumb absentmindedly stroking your cheek. You were going to combust or pass out, or maybe just evaporate on the spot. “Good news is, I’m pretty sure the General has another mission that’ll take us out of this parsec for a day or two. Should give everyone enough time to move on.” His other hand moved from your face to brush back a few stray hairs, his eyes following the movement hungrily. They were darker still.

There was a familiarity in that darkness.

“That-that’s uh, good,” You stammered, your eyes moving everywhere except to meet his. You were afraid of what he’d see if he looked directly at you. Of what you’d see...but you didn’t understand why you were afraid.

You just got Poe back, you weren’t fucking this up. Get it together, get it together, breathe...

“I know I don’t need to ask,” His voice was low, the timbre shooting straight to your core, “But are you okay to fly, because you seem a little out of it.” His voice sounded wrecked, like it was painful to be speaking.

You nodded hastily, pressing your hands into his abdomen for some unknown reason. You could feel the muscle under his shirt, hell you could remember what it felt like to touch those muscles, to drag your tongue along the surprisingly soft skin, before...before...

Oh fuck.

You think you realized what was happening a moment before it was too late to react, your brain opting to shut down as pleasure ripped through your body with a ferocity that knocked you clean over. With a shuddering moan, you collapsed into Poe as your orgasm rocked through you, unable to speak now as wave after wave turned you into a whimpering mess. He caught you, his face confused even as he unknowingly rutted his hips against you and started trembling.

“What-?” He got a good look at your face then and realization dawned, his expression twisting in horror. “Oh shit, shit,” He groaned, clutching you harder against him and you heard him breathe out your name, equal parts fear and desire colouring his tone before he sunk to his knees, bringing you down with him, and his body stilled.

His orgasm tore through him just as violently, the only thing he could think to do was nuzzle his head into your neck and hide his face as he came. You were limp, your body jerking and convulsing as the high never ended, it seemed to hold at its peak and just drag you along for the ride, unwillingly. In the very back of your mind, you recognized that what was happening was, undoubtedly, an aftereffect to the pollen you’d been exposed to weeks prior. The nightly dreams, subsequent orgasms, the way fire licked up your spine at every touch from Poe...it made sense, and if you weren’t currently trying to keep yourself and Poe quiet as you each came, you’d probably be feeling like a first-class idiot for not reporting the exposure.

“Fuck,” You whimpered pitifully, clinging to Poe for life. You felt another hand on your shoulder suddenly and registered a voice saying your name. It took a few moments to find enough clarity to look up, blinking through the haze to find Temmin standing over you both, his expression frantic with concern.

“Major, (y/n), tell me what’s happening, talk to me here!”

“T-Temmin...we, we were exposed on our, shit,” You had to pause as your orgasm seemed to notch up another level, dropping your head to hide your face against Poe’s. “Mission. Red fertility plant, help, oh maker please help!” You cried out, the burning and heat threatening to undo you completely, no longer overwhelmed with lust but now a high that seemed too far for humans, your heart hammering in your chest like it wanted to break out, run away from you and abandon your trembling body as you burned.

You slumped over, distantly aware of Temmin roaring for medics, but determined to bring your focus to Poe, who was now holding you too tightly. You realized he was speaking into your neck, and you had to tilt your head awkwardly to hear. Your vision was narrowing now, but you could hear him perfectly.

“I can’t hurt you again, don’t let me hurt her, please make it stop.” He repeated this plea over and over, and it was the only thing you could hear as your eyes began to close, as other hands were on you, pulling him away and you fought to keep him close until the heat became too much and a sudden stinging cool hit your arm and you were falling, down and into an unknown abyss, your last thoughts swirling in your head louder than any voice around you.

‘Don’t let me hurt him again, please don’t let me hurt Poe again...’

—

Temmin paced the med-bay waiting area frantically, waiting for an update from the Healers on both the Commander and Major’s statuses. He’d been leaving the hangar when he found them in the hallway, clinging to one another as they seemed to convulse with pain, and it had fucking terrified him. It had made some sense when you’d be able to gasp out an explanation that you’d each been exposed to a fertility plant during your mission. But he didn’t have any room to be embarrassed that you were both essentially having orgasms in front of him because you looked so scared and confused and Poe’s words were stuck in his brain now.

“Please don’t let me hurt her again, make it stop, I can’t hurt her, she’s everything to me, please make it stop...”

While he knew he was a less emotional sort of man, Temmin wasn’t an idiot. He knew that Poe and you were soulmates who’d been through some seriously dark shit. That you just needed to work through it all to find your way back to one another. And apparently, you had started the process-finally-during your classified mission. He had been overjoyed at the change in your interactions with one another, that you seemed to be friends again, at least.

But he’d also noticed the weird reactions you both had to some of his more inappropriate teasing, seen how you would both flush and change the subject and he thought at first that maybe you had started dating again, only something seemed off. You had become increasingly more wound up over the weeks, and Poe had appeared to turn inward more and more, as though his thoughts were so intense he was trying to conceal them with every fibre of his being from everyone.

You had only mentioned a suspicious plant in your reports from your mission. It had been with dawning horror, as he screamed for Healers, that Temmin understood you’d mentioned the flowers because you’d been exposed. That whatever had happened upon exposure had been so bad that neither you nor Poe wanted to include it in your reports.

“Captain?” A Healer came out from the back, a soothing expression on her face that told him you at least weren’t dead.

He hurried forward nonetheless, “Maker, Healer Brooks, please tell me they’re going to be alright!”

Did you enjoy this chapter? Consider leaving a comment or reblogging to ease my inner turmoil as a writer. Thank you 🤍

@mermaidxatxheart @foxilayde @eleinemk @paintballkid711 @mylifeisactuallyamess @20th-centu-fairy-girl @deitysnips @cannedsoupsucks @ubri812 @poedameronloverx @hoeforthefictional @astrological-bitch @itsnottilly @its-djarin @alex-sulli

[peaterookie]

Lupin III Chapter 41 Review

It's like 2 am.. friday on a school day hits hard tbh but dw I'm still alive! Lupin review is back again and not any better than last time :D

before i start, one thing i like to point out about the english title is that they somehow kept the japanese title but altered the "ku" in a different place??? why didn't they just remove it

anyways adult lupin is back along with goemon!! its nice to see them again (they are yassified in this panel fr)

goemon still doesn't like lupin as usual and lupin is back to steal from his master, as usual!

this time he wants the jito sword art, which is as best as i can describe it some kind of scroll about some sword technique he hires a bunch of assassins i believe but goemon kills all of them and hes like you cant get the scroll, asshole.

then lupin goes to goemon's master and asks for it hes quite a stubborn asshole about it so the master rejects him and he departs looking for other devious ways to get it

i love the constant gag of stuff getting thrown at him

then goemon and the master talk to each other they just shit talk lupin and how the jito scrolls can't be stolen and it has to be earned with merits

then this woman comes out of NOWHERE and she was listening in their conversation the whole time! she's like the most confusing part of this chapter for me she's either like a journalist that shoves her nose into everyone's business or working for lupin somehow

the tokyopop translation says: (after, i checked to make sure it matches the og translation and yeah they did a decent job with it)

Panel 1: "No? That's cool. I make up half of what I write anyway." (talking about how the scroll has to be earned with merits and whether it's true) Panel 2: "What a scoop! Lupin III is after the Jito Scrolls." Panel 3: "Front page for sure!"

needless to say she talks to lupin about it and he shows off the scrolls he's stolen... and some other stuff.

she's me while reading the shitty part of the manga

im glad monkey punch put in a character we can all relate to anyways lupin becomes a pervert towards her so she just smacks him on the head and leaves W move!

then we have a shot comparing the master's skills and lupin's in the master's side we have goemon and him skillfully defeating some assassins that they assumed was hired by lupin the journalist girl observes them and goes wow cool !

then we pan to lupan who tries to break these stone pillars with his legs

then ok this part is so funny the journalist girl was like wait he didnt break a single one lupin just walks away to his house all cool and then its revealed that all his limbs are broken

WHAT DID HE THINK WAS GONNA HAPPEN??? im losing it rn

after that the master and lupin decides to duel he puts down the scrolls and if lupin can beat him then he can take it lupin is up on this cliff thingy while hes below the waterfall

and yeah goemon is there too he doesn't do anything he gets immediately sidelined as the master tells him to leave since its 1v1 fight

lupin asks the master to give him 10 seconds to prepare himself until they make their first move and then when 10 seconds passed lupin reveals that he was in the water the entire time, limbs intact, and kills the master classic lupin plot twist i dont even have the energy to question it tbh

im assuming after that he takes the scroll and as foreshadowed from the panel where he showed off the bras to the journalist... he tries to have smex with the journalist but he fails aaand gets a bucket smacked on his dick

as deserved!! also that left top panel looks TERRIFYING JESUS CHRIST sorry lupin but you cant get your extra trophy but at least you got the jito scrolls the end.

this chapter's ending confused me a lot at first but after the review it seems like i got it i think

even as a manga fan reading the first manga series is rough but doing these helps me appreciate it more :) my review is shitty and just done for fun after all but hopefully from this people can be more encouraged to read it