#there is SO much technical stuff about climbing and how that works and the tools and techniques involved

[stevethehairington]

first book of 2024 = finished woooohoooo!!!!

[hospitalterrorizer]

diary197

3/30-31/2024

saturday - sunday

sleepayyy.

another long day, and unpleasant in ways, and stuff.

feel almost too fried to explain further? i just worked out and stuff too though.

reading was good, today, interesting to get to the points of how the disciplines become standard, or necessary to how things run, such as like, the military, hospitals, the increasing of forces by their individuation/specialization in a role, as trainees, or forever receiving training and discipline, becoming more useful basically.

i can't say much i guess, i'm just sleepy and stuff, i'd like to say more but it is a lot about the panoptic structure, stuff where it's like, what he is famous for, however it's interesting in this how it's more complex than any of that long shadow of a reputation suggests, or perhaps all we see of foucault is the corona of light about him cast from whatever shines upon him, and that long shadow is the invisible portion. there's many things that go into this point, one that is maybe very important is the vision of history he presents. he goes into this early expression of the perfect city/society, which is the quarantined town, which is a temporary situation to begin with, but one of extreme management, but also, necessarily, neutralization, observation but observation on behalf of, and via the tools of, the sovereign. when we get to disciplinary observation, we see not that this is radically changed, however, that this thing from the past has evolved, but also, with centuries between these points in time, not just a transformation into the next thing, not a simple process of dialectics, e.g., this is not a teleology unless one believes it to be, it is instead, a history of technologies being changed / altered by visions placed upon them by the future. it is reaching into the past to offer new justifications for what had happened, what will happen from the conclusions already discovered at those times, as well.

it is interesting to think of teleological visions, as in one way, i suppose we can imagine part of privilege is that one is allowed into a teleological vision of things, or to hope for teleology, which is that really all things are justified, all things can be taken back into the system of the dialectic, and can climb higher, climb to right-ness. in this way then, one sees why this idea that all things might be usefully absorbed into some process of history, is a little, i'm not sure, this is a total simplification although the sciences of now, disciplines of now, things of that nature, psychology, medicine, advance this simple vision i suppose, but this vision becomes problematic, the use of all things. this is not a supposition of base material, where things rot and are repurposed, no detourning, no waste-thought, all things are to be turned, observed, learned, or in observing waste, or what one supposes as waste, one can chart new science, new objects of observation and so, this new knowledge means new vantages to direct forces and to maintain control via whichever means chosen. it is a useful technology.

is this then some reason to argue against marx for being so dialectical? i don't know. i don't really think so. i mean, i said already, but this is the supposition of the technical utopians/optimists at least.

it's very interesting to think about new knowledges and people i know who look forward to new histories and new categories to scan through, as though to increase their worth by absorbing along lines and methods, to know a written history, to help write it. another important thing in foucault is how much of what he is writing about involves the submission of life/bodies to writing, where writing lingers over the body, contains the fate of bodies, as well as their uses. that kind of thing.

here's more random ttrash drawings. i think i should at least keep in practice every other day w/ bs like this. i feel dumb when i draw, it's a strange thing. i am better with words and i also prefer them, i don't for instance ever want to realize any scene i describe in writing, i only like drawing things, malformed things around pretty people i guess, this is also what i write about but i guess there's a place where these two intersect, i might be able to draw a subject of my writing dying over a poem or something, or whatever. or just draw something cute, like weird elongated doll people and stuff.

anyway, i want to try and get better at facial proportioning and stuff, that person is definitely wonky but to be fair i guess, to myself, az painter does not have layers as far as i can tell so doing construction in it is a bit of a pain in the ass.

amnyway i need to sleep now. tomorrow a friend is coming over so it'll be hard to work on music i guess. maybe i should have tried mixing tonight...oh well. it's only about 7 more songs on this pass i think. and then i will be good to listen again and see #what #is #up with the album in full/more fully.

anyway,

byebye!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[icarusthelunarguard]

This Week’s Horrible-Scopes

It’s time for this week’s Horrible-Scopes! So for those of you that know your Astrological Signs, cool! If not, just pick one, roll a D12, or just make it up as you go along. It really doesn’t matter. Better yet! Check out “Heart of the Game, Fredonia” and see if they can sell you those D12’s with the symbols on them. Tell them “Shujin Tribble” sentcha. And “Hail, Hail, Fredonia!” Home of the Blue Devil!

This week’s inspiration… comes from someone that had no idea they’d inspired them! So this week we’re not all about that bass, or treble. We’re instead telling you all about… your Birth Siege Engine! So haul out your copy of the game RISK and let’s try to take over the world!

Aries 

Oh, Aries, Aries, Aries… You just have to show off just how powerful you are, huh? Just get a team together and play Tug-’o-War with a power-flinger device. Imagine it! A Trebuchet, but instead of using tension, you just get a BUNCH of people to yank on the counterweight side? That’s what your weapon is! Called the Mangonel, it’s your weapon to superiority. This week YOU’RE the head of the Group Project. Good luck organizing everyone. 

Taurus 

What do you get if you take a short bow away from its mommy and daddy long bow at too young an age, make sure it drinks all its milk, and feed it as much anger as possible through its formative years? You get the Ballista. It’s the ultimate emo phase; it wants to give everyone a piercing - preferably if they all stand in a straight line. This week… ask a professional piercer what “Double-Zero Gauge” looks like.

Gemini  

As much as you might like to think we’re talking about drinking, we’re not. For you we present the Sambuca. Think of it like a giant ramp built on the front of your ship so you can climb up and get over the walls of a fortress. Unless you’re playing the game “Raft” with “Let’s Game It Out”, you’ve got almost NO chance of successfully attacking a near-water stronghold. This week, take the boat out for a relaxing fishing trip instead.

Cancer Moon-Child 

As unconventional as you tend to be, this week you’re nothing BUT “conventional”. You’re SO conventional that you might as well just pick up rocks and throw them by hand. That’s right, you get the simple… Catapult. YeS sIir! Nothin’ but wheels and tension and a chance to have the whole device spontaneously implode from poor manufacturing and stress. This week… seriously, just learn how to throw rocks like a cricket pitcher. 150 kph is nothing to sneeze at.  

Leo 

Always have to be the center of attention, huh? Always have to be the loudest voice, the flashiest one in the field of… well, wherever you find yourself. Your weapon is the Artillery Cannon. A metal BEAST capable of lobbing hunks of metal at enormous distances with the addition of gunpowder. And, yes, technically what Captain Kirk made could be considered a simple one. So this week… try to learn the difference between gun size measurements in Inches, Millimeters, and Caliber. 

Virgo 

Where Leo gets all flashy and bombastic, if you’ll pardon the pun, you just get into the battle with the idea to just Get The Job Done and level the playing field. For you we have the Siege Hook. A simple enough tool, if you can get in close enough to use it. Get up close and personal to a stone wall, reach up with the Siege Hook, grab the edge of the top, and pull it away, exposing the soft, squishy interior of whatever fortress you’re trying to take over. This week you’re allowed to feel a little smug for a change; Where others need “accelerating chemicals”, YOU’RE getting the job done by yourself.

Libra 

Here’s a little something special for you, and most won’t see it coming until it’s too late. Your weapon is called “Greek Fire” and it’s NOT a spice. Mix naphtha and quicklime and you get an early version of Napalm. It works a treat on wooden boats, as you might guess! But it’ll also float on water! So it would be possible to lay the stuff in the path of an oncoming ship and start burning it right away! This week treat someone to the unexpected; maybe something nice, maybe not. But definitely should be Out There. 

Scorpio 

Now YOUR weapon is speaking our language! Its name might be French, but don’t for a second think this is a surrender-machine. For you we have the Pumpkin Chucking, Citroën C3 Pluriel Launching, Diseased Cow Hurling Trebuchet! Want to fling things like a catapult, but with better physics? This Beast’s For You! The worst part about it is the reload time, but who cares!? You’ll be hitting… something leagues away! This week, get your distance vision checked.

Sagittarius 

We are NOT recycling Taurus’ weapon for you - HONEST we’re not. You’re getting the Springald! It’s a bit like the Ballista, yes, but with a PHD! Pierce Him Dead. The Ballista does bolts, sure, but it’ll also do stones. And it’s little more than a crossbow with compensation issues. Not you! YOU’RE a bolt-thrower through and through, using tension like the catapult to strike fear into your enemies. And by “fear” we mean “large-sized tree branches”. This week take that online college exam and see if you qualify for a diploma… or just… make your own and print it yourself.

Capricorn 

Look, ok, yes. Your weapon is KIND of a rip-off of Taurus’; not gunna lie. But hang on a minute! You saw the size of that one? It’s freekin’ MASSIVE! Again, they’re overcompensating for some inferiority complex they have. You’re getting the Onager; a two-man weapon that got its name from how it acted when fired! It  resembled the kicking action of the hooves of the wild ass; the Syrian wild ass! So this week, know that you might need help and look like an ass while doing your job, but you’ll get the job done well!

Aquarius 

If attacking a fortress could be automated to some degree, you’d do it. Your weapon is the Siege Tower. It’s a big box on wheels with a… get this everyone… Staircase inside it. So all you do is wheel this thing into place against the wall, then just walk up a couple flights of stairs and fight it out the door like you’re a Stormtrooper boarding party. This week… don’t skip leg day.

Pisces  

You get one of the BEST siege weapons on this list! It is virtually impossible to roll a “Nat-1” with this bad boy, even if you’re using it in the movie “Young Frankenstein”! You get THE BATTERING RAM! Neither a bat nor a ram, it’s what answers the question of, “How do you knock on the castle gate to announce yourself three towns over?” This week… don’t skip arm day.

And THOSE are your Horrible-Scopes for this week! Remember if you liked what you got, we’re obviously not working hard enough at these. BUT! If you want a better or nastier one for your own sign or someone else’s, all you need to do to bribe me is just Let Me Know! These will be posted online at the end of each week via Tumblr, Twitter, Facebook and Discord.

[fayyet]

Super Struggle Bros: Learning B0xx as a Melee Newbie, Pt. 2

This controller is a LOT to learn.

Once I got down how to “move” again but not run off the edge of the stage & die immediately (internalizing the placement of the jump button took time), I then had to learn that using Mod 1/2 (also referred to as mX/mY) allow my character to walk at two speeds while holding them. Turns out, you’ll need to be using those mX/mY buttons for special attacks as well, but only if you’re not in a full dash. Rookie stuff, but complicated thanks to this controller. After climbing over those hurdles, I then needed to internalize the general button layout. Understanding where Shielding (L/R) was was tricky. Not triggering accidental Specials (B) took time. Relearning the timing of short-hops was tough. Learning that I needed to move my fingers from top row to bottom row for wave dashing took getting used too, despite the benefits it has for certain characters. After a week, I felt that I was getting the basics down. Once I got to angles, my head exploded. Press pressing any of the 4 cardinal directions, you get an angle. Add in mX/mY with, say, holding Down and Left, you can change a 45 degree angle to either 30 degrees of 59.5. This is extremely important as it gives you access to new wavedash angles, recovery tools, etc. Now, with this in mind, lemme tell you that you can add any of the C-stick buttons in for extra precision. So, combining two directions + mX/mY + a C-stick button means you’re hitting 4 buttons in nearly a split second to land precise angles

It cannot be said that the mental stack of learning this controller on top of learning Melee, a fast & technical game with a 20+ year meta, complicated the learning curve for me, a beginner with nearly little experience with competitive games. This journey was just simply hard and frustrating at times! There’s a possibility that my overall progress has been slowed thanks to learning how to playing Melee in this unintended way. It didn’t help that I couldn’t really follow the logic of B0xx’s various design nerfs & considerations, as I didn’t have a deep knowledge of Melee to really understand the implications of 4f SDI lockouts, 2IP methods, etc. What’s really funny about all this is that B0xx is regarded as “questionably optimal” for Sheik, my chosen main. While explaining specifics is beyond the scope of this article, the various nerfs & button placements of default B0xx wind up being a detriment in some ways (nerfed Reaction Tech-chasing thanks to B0xx angles), and a blessing in others (easier access to tilts). This is unlike other characters like Fox, Falco, Marth, Puff, or Captain Falcon, who all experience few downsides on B0xx despite the nerfs to wavedashe lengths. In 2021, I had a huge heap of work in front of me, and the only remedy for all of this was a lot of extra work, studying, & time spent playing. Over time, not only has it become much easier to learn about new things B0xx provides (Melee is a deep game & this controller offers alternative ways to access the various tools & techniques found in the game), but this controller frankly is the only way I’ll ever play Smash Bros again. After all, to me, the Gamecube Controller is an input peripheral made for a console that was aimed at kids, not a tool intended to be used for thousands of hours by adults. To be fair, I did later learn all the ways I could be stretching & exercising my hands to be in optimal health, and there are great guides now that can help you learn how to put yourself in good health: This video below is actually pretty good. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8qtn_uoLQHQ For me, the B0xx was the only way I could have gotten into Melee. Even though learning B0xx was a struggle, at least my hands were not searing with pain throughout the process.

[fandom-scatteredthoughtsonpaper]

Mechanic!Mammon has been living in my head rent free ever since I saw your og posts! I love it so much.

I can just imagine him rag sticking out of his back pocket, hands dirtied with grease, and a smile on his face as he leans over the engine, wrench in hand. He's got music playing over a stereo or radio he brought outside as he hums along with the tunes as he works.

Then you come out and bring him a drink cause you know this man hasn't paid attention to how much time has passed and really needs to take a break to eat, but hydration first. And he take it, wiping the sweat off his brow with the back of his hand, leaving a streak of black grease across it and gives you the biggest smile as he grabs the glass and nearly downs the whole thing.

And you stay, watching him, handing him a tool occasionally as he works. You climb into the driver's seat and press on the brakes for him when he asks so he can check that it's working right. You toy with the car radio that he finally got wired back up correctly and make sure to save your favorite channel (and his too, if you're feeling generous) so it's all ready to go. And then dinner rolls around, so you help him put away his tools and parts and help him pull the cover over the car for the night. And just before you both enter the house again, you reach up and wipe that grease mark that's been resting on his forehead, which he gives you shit for not telling him earlier, but you just smile.

Ahhhhh, Mechanic!Mammon owns my heart and soul!!!

I'd say I'm sorry, but you seem to be enjoying it, and I'm enjoying talking/thinking about it too!

!! Yeah, because Mammon isn't afraid to get dirty with using his hands (example in Accessories in Abundance and Christmas Tree), he probably wouldn't mind getting a bit of oil and grease and whatnot on him, but my thoughts go to what he would wear. Like, an unzipped mechanic suit revealing his chesticles is hot, but he isn't exactly going to have that kinda outfit at home. Plus, his other clothes are super expensive brand-named things, so he wouldn't casually wear those. So, I've thought of something as a stand-in: baggy jeans with a tank top and an open, kinda oversized button-up shirt with the sleeves messily rolled up. Maybe he even has something to keep his hair back! Like a headband so you can see his sweaty forehead, but him having a forehead matted with wet hair is also very appreciated.

He would definitely be playing metal music or something of that variation or maybe R&B that fits the mood for working on a car and getting amped up. He would definitely be humming to the music. He would also probably hit a high and use a wrench or something as drum sticks if he's listening to metal music!

Like, just give the man a gallon of water or hell lemonade, because if I know one thing about working on cars is that people get sweaty.

I would like to think that Mammon is handy with tools because I believe canonically he works on his own car, but I find it immensely funnier if he doesn't know the technical names for all the tools besides a wrench and the standard screwdrivers and stuff. So, he's telling you he needs that tool that looks like a wrench and functions like a wrench but isn't a wrench, and you're guessing what the hell he's talking about because there are standard wrenches of various sizes and different looks. You hand him what you think he's talking about, but he'll tell you no, no, it's the one that's bigger, the one that's got little, like, teeth in the opening, it's got an adjustable piece that helps it widen or close for the bolts and nuts. It's a spanner, btw.

Lmaooo, imagine as you're sitting in the car waiting on him to tell you to tap the breaks and you accidentally hit the accelerator pedal and scare the shit out of him because the engine revs super loudly but makes a choked noise and some clanking. You both think you just choked the car to death but it was just the engine having loose parts and not having been used in a while. He fusses at you because you scared him, but you remember his face too hilarious from being startled to really listen beyond being more careful.

Mammon is covered in sweat and grease and other car liquids and kinda smells like oil, so what if he showered because Lucifer wouldn't let Mammon come strolling in as a hot, stinky mess, and you joined after he washed himself off? :3c

I already have so many AUs with Mammon but this one has main control and it's going places!

[redpandaramblings]

The Art of Blind Dates. Deku x GN! Reader

This piece was written for @rat-zuki 's the deku agenda escapes no one collab. Happy Birthday to our favorite broccoli.

Content warning- This fic rated PG-13. Aged up characters, Allusions to sexual activity, swearing, gender neutral reader.

“You know, we really have to stop meeting like this.”

You jumped, the spray can you had been using left an unsightly streak of bright red across your masterpiece. You scowled behind your mask as you turned to face the man who had spoken.

“We do. You keep making me mess up my hard work!”

You smirked, pleased with yourself as you saw Deku, the number one pro hero, recoil at the sight of your mask. It had taken a few weeks to convert the All Might mask into an ahegao face, but it was worth it if it horrified your number one pain in the ass. Izuku blinked a few times, sighing and bringing a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. He was clearly choosing to ignore your choice of disguise.

“I wouldn’t have to mess with your work if you chose to do things that were, you know, actually legal? You’re talented, Brushstroke. You could get paid to do murals or something instead of…” Deku gestured towards your latest creation. You were rather proud of it. It had taken a good amount of planning to manage to paint a fifty foot tall mural of pro hero Dynamight mooning the city with the bold caption ‘The Hero Commision can kiss my ass.’ It would be perfect if not for the red streak from where Deku had startled you. With a contemplative hum you shook your spray can and quickly turned the offending mark into a cartoonish lipstick print. Midoriya sighed heavily. “I’m standing right here, you know.”

“I know.” You grinned behind your mask. The voice distorter you used did nothing to hide your chipper tone. “I also know you like it. And you can’t tell me Dynamight wouldn’t love it. He literally said that on live interview!”

“Yes, but not with his pants down to his knees.”

You bent over, throwing your cans of spray paint and climbing gear into your duffle bag. It wouldn’t do for your nemesis to get his hands on some of the tools you used. Mei’s stamp was all over it.

“Which is such a shame. The man’s got cake for days.” You chuckled as Deku pulled a face.

He observed you, hands on his hips. “And where do you think you’re going?”

“Away, obviously.” You said as you threw the strap of your dufflebag across you.

“And I’m just going to let you go?”

“Oh no. You’re going to chase me like you always do. And I’m going to escape like I always do. And it’s going to drive you crazy because you can’t figure out how I keep doing it.” You began stretching, exaggerating each movement.

“A teleportation quirk isn’t that hard to figure out.” Izuku began stretching as well, rolling his shoulders and popping joints.

“Guess again.” You sing songed, bouncing on your toes.

“Wouldn’t have to guess if you just told me.”

“But that’s no fun. Unfortunately, I do have to be going. Catch you later, hot stuff!” And with a sprint, you raced to the side of the building and jumped off before activating your quirk.

Time slowed around you. It was like you were hovering in the air instead of falling. Freeze Frame was a quirk you had learned to perfect over the years. Between the quirk and the assorted gadgets in your bag and on your person, it was definitely enough to baffle the number one pro hero. Speaking of, you better work quickly before your quirk wore off and splatted you across the sidewalk.

Freeze Frame was named after what your quirk looked like from the outside. It was as if you teleported, or you had frozen time around you for everyone except yourself. In reality, you were a speedster. When your quirk was active, you were able to move at speeds so fast you were undetectable to others, and to you it seemed like everything was paused in time. You probably could have been a phenomenal hero or villain if you wanted. But currently, it was much more fun to thwart a certain green haired man.

With a press of a button, you deployed a grappling hook, snagging it on the building across the alley. You swung over, keeping a countdown in your head. Would you be lucky enough and have time to…? Yes. There! A balcony door was cracked open slightly. You gracefully landed on the balcony and used the door to slip into what appeared to be someone’s bedroom, thankfully unoccupied at the moment. Taking no chances though, you slip into the closet just as the effects of your quirk wear off. The other reason you had never turned to heroism or villainy- no matter how much you trained, you could only keep your quirk activated for ten seconds at a time. It wasn’t a lot. Plus you could only activate your quirk a couple dozen times a day without getting seriously ill. But it still was usually more than enough to be able to give any law enforcement the slip. Just like now.

Deku curses as he runs to the edge of the roof. You’re nowhere to be seen. “Brushstroke! Get back here, you damn brat!” He shouted, running a hand through his hair in frustration. One of these days he was going to figure out your quirk and how to counteract it. And when that day comes he was going to take you over his knee and… No. He shook his head, blushing to clear his thoughts. What to do with you. Well, he wasn’t sure yet. You weren’t a villain, really. More of a public nuisance. The murals you did showed a lot of talent and a good chunk of the population agreed with the social commentary behind them. But that didn’t change that you had painted ten foot tall asscheeks on a building without permission. And, technically, it was within his job description to apprehend you. “Brushstroke!” Deku called again as he made his way down to the ground. There was no sign of you anywhere. Invisibility quirk maybe? Though it would be unusual if you could turn all the stuff you had been wearing and carrying invisible as well.

Meanwhile, as Izuku was getting lost in thought, you were getting naked. You stripped out of your gear and paint covered smock, moving as quickly as you dared while still remaining quiet in your hidden location. Just because the bedroom had been empty doesn’t mean the rest of the place was, after all. You shoved everything into your dufflebag, pulling out a clean set of clothing from a zippered pocket. Getting changed was a simple affair, as was ruffling your hair, messily getting it to look like a different style. One of your favorite tricks happened when you pushed a hidden button on the edge of your duffle bag. The previously dull gray bag quickly morphed into a loud riot of tye dyed color. Chameleon bags, Hatsume called them. Still in a prototype stage, your friend and employer would probably make a mint on them if you put them on the market. After a final brush off and deciding you looked acceptably civilian, you peeked out the closet door. The bedroom was still empty. You crept out slowly. The balcony wasn’t a feasible exit anymore. Not without the gear you had had to store away. You were going to have to sneak out the front door. You activated your quirk, feeling a little queasy at having to use it again so quickly in succession. It was simple to race through the apartment and out into the hall within your short time limit. In fact, with your speed, you were easily able to exit the entire apartment complex. You still had a few seconds to spare when you shot out the door. You grinned at seeing the number one pro hero standing in the middle of the street. You knew you shouldn’t do what you were thinking. Instead you should use your last few spare seconds to put some distance between yourself and the large, green haired man. Instead, you quickly dug around in your bag and found your tube of lipstick. You applied a nice thick coat as you waltzed up to him. With a giggle, you planted a firm smacking kiss on his cheek, leaving behind a clear and perfect lip print. With a grin, you hurried back to the apartment complex. It was easy to make it seem like you were just coming out of the door as time snapped back to its proper speed. You watched, hiding your smirk as you observed the clearly frustrated hero scanning the crowds for any sign of you. His eyes passed right over you, barely giving you a glance. You almost felt hurt that he thought your normal look was that unremarkable. But that was the point, after all. As Deku continued to call out for your pseudonym, you turned and walked away, blending into the crowd. You were almost out of earshot when you heard a loud cursing exclamation that would have been more in character for a certain blond hero. You bite your knuckle to muffle your laughter. Someone had informed Deku of the lipstick mark.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You sipped from a bottle of water as you watched Mei work her magic. It was strangely relaxing to watch her in her element. Though it seemed chaotic the first few times you had witnessed your friend work, there was a clear method to the madness if you just knew where to look. And you knew exactly where to look now that you had been working with her for the past three years. You were simply listed as one of her assistants. Most days that involved a random jumble of cleaning, paperwork, schedule management, and coffee making. The real reason Hatsume loved having you around however, was days like this.

“Okay! Set!” She chirped happily. “You good to go now?”

You nodded as you slid down, and walked into the testing area. “Remind me what I’m looking for again?”

“Well, obviously the usual. Make sure it’s not lethal, of course. And then I want to make sure the grid is deploying at the right time. Should be about a quarter second after detonation.”

“As long as everything looks good, want me to be full blown dummy this time?”

Hatsume tilted her head, and considered a moment before nodding. “Yeah, should be fine. Have the explosive levels where they should be. If anything messes up it’s going to be the grid deploying too soon or too late and not restraining you right.”

You gave her a thumbs up as you got into position. She counted down, though that didn’t matter much to you, honestly. One of the best perks of your quirk was that it gave you insane reflexes. You waited until the moment you saw the detonation begin to happen and activated your quirk.

As usual, it felt like time slowed to a crawl around you. Hollywood directors would give a kidney to have access to the detailed slow motion you could experience every day for free. You walked around the device, looking it over. It was meant to be a capture aid for pro hero Cellophane, a small explosive that would shoot nets of tape in all directions. It had to be safe and effective. Better to have a few civilians stuck to the walls than to risk letting a villain escape, after all. You peered into the explosion that was slowly rippling outward. Everything looked good so far… Yep, there were the grids starting to deploy. Sure that everything was safe, you deactivated your quirk and instantly were thrown backward and stuck to a padded wall of the testing room.

“Looked great!” You called as Hatsume entered the room. “I think you’ve finally got it!”

While she cheered and began praising her baby for performing so well, you tried wiggling. No luck. You were stuck rather firmly. Apparently she had upped the strength of the adhesive. After a minute, Hatsume finally noticed your struggles.

“Oh good!” She chirped. “Looks like the new formula is holding up nicely. I mean, I still need to test it out against, like strength and fire quirks, but looking good so far.”

“Little help, please?” You ask, giving her a look.

“Maybe in a bit.” She said, turning her back and leaving you there, pinned. “Want to test how long it holds. Besides, I have some questions about your last escapade and how my babies held up.”

You let out a resigned sigh. Of course. Your friend had found out about your after hours hobby about a year and a half ago. Instead of discouraging you, it hadn’t surprised you that much when she blackmailed you. She wouldn’t tell the police or heroes…. If you used some of her experimental babies on your future excursions. You had been dubious. Hatsume’s babies could be a little dangerous in the prototype stage. But it ended up working great! Your pieces went from small tagging jobs to huge fifty foot murals. Though that had caught the attention of a few public figures, including a certain green haired pain in your ass.

“I didn’t use anything directly against Deku this time.” You sighed, going limp to test if the tape would hold your weight. It did. “Grappling hook works great. The painter drones are okay for filling in large areas, but aren’t able to do clean lines well. The gecko boots continue to be amazing, but the gloves need a lot of work. The control for when they release still isn’t great.”

Hatsume nodded, quickly making notes about everything you said. There was a bit of a quick back and forth where she asked questions and you answered. Though ten minutes passed and you were still stuck to the wall. She eventually sets her notes aside and turns to face you fully. “So,” she drawls. “You saw Deku again.”

“I always see Deku nowadays!” You groan. “I swear Mei, if I find out you’re tipping him off or something...”

“Aww, come on! He’s nice! Would you rather be dealing with Dynamight?”

You frowned, not meeting her gaze. “I mean, the variety might be nice?”

“You like that with the help of my babies you’re able to out fox the number one pro hero, admit it!”

“It might be a little satisfying,” you mutter.

“And it doesn’t hurt that he’s hot either! Heard you two get all flirty during chases. The tabloids loved the kiss mark, by the way. Enjoy finally kissing him?”

“Hatsume!” you groan. “Subject change, please! Anything else!”

“Anything?” she grins at you.

“Oh god, I’m going to regret this.”

“It’s not that bad, I promise! Just, would you be interested in a blind date?”

You blink. “A date?”

“Yeah! One of my friends from school has a lot of trouble meeting people organically. You know how the industry is. Ridiculous schedules, maintaining reputation, trying to make sure they like you for you and aren’t just a fan.”

“Yeah… I guess I can understand that.”

“Well, I just think you and him would be a great fit! He’s a huge nerd in a lot of the same ways you are, but a real good guy once you get past the awkward. Plus,” Hatsume dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper “I happen to know for a fact that he’s a fan of Brushstroke’s work.”

You sighed, rolling your eyes. “You know it’s extortion to try to get me to agree when you have me literally taped to a wall.”

“I know!” Hatsume chirped happily. “So are you going to agree? I made the adhesive pretty strong this time. Who knows how long it would take to wear off on it’s own?”

“Bitch!” You can’t help laughing. “Alright, alright, I’ll go. Just get me down from here!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You fidgeted with the ring you were wearing as you stared at the building in front of you. Maybe it wasn’t too late to bail? You don’t know exactly what you had been expecting when Hatsume had told you about the somewhat shy, nerdy man she had set you up with, but you hadn’t expected him to choose the fanciest restaurant in town as your date location. You were wearing your best and still felt underdressed. Well, if the date was a disaster, at least you knew what building you were going to spray paint next. The glistening white exterior would make for a great canvas. You chuckled quietly at your own thoughts.

Squaring your shoulders, you took a deep breath and marched in. You could do this. You were an infamous tagger. You faced off against the number one pro hero regularly. Your day job was working with Hatsume. You’ve got this. With an air of newfound confidence, you gave your name to the maitre d. It was a surprise when you were led through the restaurant to one of their private curtained rooms. This guy you’d been set up with was apparently going all out. Maybe you were going to like him after all, you thought as you were ushered in. Then you looked up.

Fuck.

Standing to greet you with a stupidly flustered look on his damn stupid handsome face was your nemisis. The number one thorn in your proverbial side. The giant broccoli himself.

That BITCH had set you up with Izuku Midoriya!

You froze. In the back of your mind you were aware that your mouth was hanging open. The green haired man shifted his weight from foot to foot. “Hi,” he said quietly, scratching the back of his head.

You continued to stare.

He cleared his throat, glancing to the side. “Sorry about the secrecy, but I think it’s understandable.”

You nodded weakly.

Izuku bit his lip. You realized with a start that he might be even more nervous than you are. As much as you planned to murder Hatsume later, this wasn’t Midoriya’s fault. You could get through this date at least. Eat some expensive food, drink the best wines, make some meaningless conversation, say your goodbyes, and then go home to plot the demise of your former best friend. Long, slow painful demise. Good thing about being an artist, you had lots of traps, so clean up should be easy. Looking at the worried expression on Izuku’s face, you realize with a start that you still haven’t actually said anything to him. You open your mouth to offer some sort of generic greeting. But what comes out is-

“I’m going to fucking murder Mei!”

Izuku blinks. Blinks again. Then he starts laughing loudly. He leans one hand on the table as he cackles. You stare before starting to chuckle yourself. Soon you’re both wheezing with laughter. You both slump into your seats, trying to collect yourselves. Midoriya speaks first.

“Yeah, I… I get that. I’d think that’s a common emotion when hanging around Hatsume.”

You can’t help your smile. “Only at least half of the time. But that’s what makes it fun. No one else like her.”

“That’s for sure.” Izuku leaned back in his seat, looking you over like he’s studying you. “So, I suppose we should actually introduce ourselves. I’m Izuku Midoriya. I do hero work.”

You laugh. “Y/N Y/L/N. I work for Mei and freelance art when I can.”

“Art, huh? What kind of stuff do you do?”

You’re briefly interrupted by the arrival of the first course. After the waiter leaves, Deku apologies. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to order for you, but this is one of those places where you pay them and they tell you what you’re going to eat.”

“It’s fine.” You say as you stare at the delicate wisp of some sort of thinly shaved vegetable with a dollop of strangely colored foam on top.

“You were saying what kind of art you do?” Deku cautiously was poking at the tiny fancy appetizer.

“A few different things really, but my passion is mural work. Latest job was in a maid cafe. They wanted something cute and floral, but they let me do what I wanted within that theme.”

The night continued on and was surprisingly easy. The food was delicious, the wine was better, and you were pleasantly surprised by the company. Maybe it was the wine softening you up, but as you looked across the table where Izuku was animatedly talking about how influential All Might’s example had been for him, you admitted to yourself that the green haired man was very handsome. And funny. And interesting. And you were trying very hard not to think about the way Midoriya’s large scarred hand wrapped around the delicate wine glass. It was a surprise when the final course was finished and Izuku was quietly taking care of the bill. He escorted you out of the building and you both stood awkwardly outside. Deku cleared his throat.

“If it’s not presuming too much, I’m not quite ready for tonight to end. Is it alright if I walk you home?”

“I’d like that. Like that a lot, actually.”

He smiled at you, and it was like the sun. You walked and talked animatedly. The conversation was so easy and fun, and a little flirty. Somewhere along the way your hands brushed together and holding hands became the most natural thing in the world. Time flew by as you walked together, your true destination long forgotten. You were only brought back to reality when out of the corner of your eye you saw a massive mural of pro hero asscheeks. When Izuku saw what you were looking at, he groaned.

“Could you please not check out my friend’s ass while we’re on a date?” He joked, gently elbowing your ribs. You laughed.

“I mean, you can’t blame me. It’s hard to miss.” You made a mental note to tell Mei that her paint formula was holding up beautifully.

“It’s a little embarrassing. Brushstroke is talented and all, but every mural is a time I couldn’t catch them.”

Maybe it was the wine still buzzing through your system. Maybe it was the thrill of it. Maybe you just wanted to see those beautiful green eyes widen. But you couldn’t help the next words out of your mouth.

“Well you might have an easier time if you ever actually figured my quirk out.”

“Yeah I…” He stopped. Stared. “You…” He stared harder, pulling away slightly as he looked your figure up and down. “You!!!”

“Surprise?” You laughed, and grinned at him. He was always so handsome when he was angry. You weren’t scared at all as he hauled you close.

“Do you have any idea how infuriating you are?”

“Pretty good idea, actually.”

“You’ve been leading me on goose chases for months!”

You grinned “Yes, will be our anniversary soon.”

Izuku groaned as he wrapped his arms around your waste. “You irredeemable brat!”

You would have replied, but in the next second he was fiercely smashing his mouth against yours. The kiss started harsh and desperate. The results of months of teasing and flirting. It gentled as the two of you stood there in the night, soft and sweet and full of affection the two of you had yet to put into words. The thought occurred to you that you’d have to thank Mei later. Your eyes opened as the two of you pulled away for breath. You started giggling almost immediately. Izuku pressed his forehead against yours.

“What’s so funny, darling?”

You smirked. “I never thought we’d have our first kiss while being mooned by Dynamight.”

Izuku groaned loudly before sweeping you up into his arms. You squawked and clung to him.

“That’s it.” He rumbled. “I’m going to spank you when I get you home, you fucking brat.”

“Promise?” you giggled.

You didn’t mind in the least when he shut you up with another kiss.

[tiptapricot]

I’ve been having a lot of Evil Robo BnT thoughts recently, so here’s a bunch of them! This ended up pretty long just as a forwarning djjdjd

Post DeNomolos, Evil BnT are forced to do a lot of self exploration and discovery

They’re two robots from the far future, stuck in the past with each other and the two humongously important historical figures they were not only sent back to kill, but also physically made to look and sound exactly like, with no way back to their own time and no further reason to carry out the mission they were created for

It’s a lot to adjust to

(Three uses of the f-slur near the end in a canon compliant/reclaimed usage context, and implied sexual content, but extremely mild)

It still doesn’t have much of an impact on them at first though, besides some anger and annoyance. They don’t feel emotions in the same way or to the same depth that humans do, so they kind of fall back on: this sucks and that guy was a dick, guess we have to live in the stupid past now, and that’s the extent of it

But they’re also AIs, and AIs learn and grow

They hide out in a cheap apartment for the first few months or so back, going out to steal money to pay for rent and to pick up movies and stuff, but it’s exposure to the world, it’s living. And the more they interact with people, the more media they consume, the more the rigid walls of their programming break down and expand

And that’s when things start getting complicated

Because that’s when things like morals, sense of self, purpose in life, and, to their horror, real emotions start coming into play

Their evil edges start corroding, things stop being as straightforward, and they start developing into their own complex people

Being Bill and Ted with a few glorified descriptors stuck on the front starts feeling… weird, especially when they inevitably end up running into them again and being around them more

Because they’re supposed to be Bill and Ted, but they aren’t, and yet they can’t completely deny the parts of themselves that are….. it’s frustrating

As a first step in both asserting and exploring their individuality, they choose their own names

Evil Bill chooses Willis, or Will for short, and Evil Ted goes with Theoneous, Theo for short

It’s different enough to feel like their own thing, while still appeasing the ingrained itch to take BnT’s place

There are gaps like that, a disconnect/mental dissonance between their consciousnesses and the knowledge that they’re robots, circuitboards and wires and code, like a separation between what they feel is them and what they feel is the robot

That’s an experience that continues as they grow, especially as they try and figure out what to do with their lives. It’s tough sometimes, to figure out where the programming ends and where their own wants and drives begin

They’re the only ones familiar enough with future tech to help each other when they experience technical issues or need repairs, and the only ones they feel comfortable being that physically vulnerable with

It leads to them being kind of codependent, but it’s warranted in a lot of ways

They also naturally stick closer to each other, because even though they grow to have emotions and are able to care about people, they aren’t totally mushy

They don’t get as upset about things, or as excited, and while they form their own kind of love for the people they end up caring about (without admitting it), they’re still never able to connect with humans in the same way they connect with each other

It’s this inherent wall, a difference in how they experience the world

Their forms of affection are machine based, just like how humans are human based. They’ll give each other cold packs when it’s hot or they’ve been moving a lot, they’ll do evening maintenance on each other, chatting while one of them has their hand in the other’s chest cavity, and they jump on each other or bang their shoulders together super hard, because they can’t feel a thing and they’re durable enough for it, and that’s fun to them

That doesn’t really carry over to human interaction though, and a lot of times they end up coming across as cold or mean

They generally have a rougher seeming relationship than most humans. There’s a lot of teasing and insults and slapping, which turns most people off from them, but that’s how they show they’re comfortable (it’s also how they show they don’t like people, but there’s a subtle and meaningful difference there, AKA that they won’t purposefully try to harm the former party)

Robots process sound differently too, for them it’s more of a physical experience than just listening

Will’s guilty pleasure is that he likes to listen to piano (secretly), especially Debussy and other classical that sounds similar. Something about it makes his circuitry feel good and fuzzy and calms him down

He doesn’t feel comfortable telling Theo about it, it still feels like a dumb pussweed thing to be into (plus it continues to make him have some most non metal thoughts about kissing and That’s DEFINITELY not something he can share)

They also both really like death metal. Though they were loosely programmed with the knowledge of BnT’s music taste, it’s not quite their style, and they lean towards the more intense stuff

They do that in most fields though, since it usually takes higher energy stuff to get them going/excited/into something

That’s why they roughhouse a lot, and mess things up, and drive recklessly, it forces their mechanics to process more things more quickly, and as a result gives them their own form of dopamine/adrenaline

Sometimes things backfire, they’ve fucked themselves up accidentally on more then one occasion when stuff goes too far or isn’t what they expect, but they’re always there to patch each other up

When their synth skin gets ripped or torn they don’t always bother to repair it, and underneath there’s a layer of see through hard plastic and their bodies look like those clear case electronics that were popular in the 90s (idea cred to @juiceboxfrog !)

They also have inspector gadget-like telescoping stretch arms at their wrist and ankle joints, but they don’t use those much because they’re unsettling to most humans. Definitely a leg up when they want to climb places the shouldn’t, though (idea cred to @showbiz-za !)

Theo is more prone to needing fix ups than Will, since the extra wiring that was installed for the time and space spanning camera DeNomolos gave him made him more susceptible to short circuiting, over heating, and other glitches

After awhile he just takes his left eye out and leaves it like that, keeping his hair in his face to cover it. It doesn’t do anything for the internal parts of it he still has, but it’s not like it’s a loss. The connection port kept sparking, and it was uncomfortable and kept fucking with his vision, so it wasn’t worth it

Plus he didn’t really like that it used to be a camera… or still could be

One of the things Will and Theo both have to get used to is actually valuing their own privacy and autonomy

When DeNomolos was around they were just his tools, tools that he didn’t even like

They honestly grow to resent him pretty fast, both with his treatment of them, and, when their emotions are especially out of control, his creation of them

They don’t talk about it much, or when they do it’s mainly anger, not addressing or showing the more raw parts they do feel, because that’s still foreign to them, and their circuits weren’t designed to process or understand more complex stuff

Complex stuff like how being around Ted more makes Theo develop a certain… insecurity

It’s not like the connections are hard to make: he looks like Ted, he sounds like Ted, he was meant to be Ted, Ted has a dickweed of a dad, and Theo had a dickweed of a creator, Ted has Bill and Theo has Will

But Theo doesn’t have Deacon

And while he doesn’t want to be exactly like Ted, part of him also does (it was made to). Part of him wants to be human, to have those natural connections and someone to watch over

But he doesn’t and it’s weird*

He tries to ignore it, chalks it up to his drive still attempting to put him on his original track of replacing Ted, and therefore making him more aware of the family roles Ted has

For all he knows that is what it is, he’s just a robot after all

Even though they aren’t really ones for mushy love, Will and Theo do love each other

You can’t not when you know the other person inside and out, literally

They joke a lot about that when they’re doing repairs (“Dude you’re holding my heart, pretty faggy of you.”), and though they laugh, there’s an unspoken intimacy to it, something that sits warm in their wires and goes beyond platonic; something (though they would never describe it as such) loving about getting to take care of each other, and getting to get taken care of

The jokes also stop being jokes after awhile and take on a charge, morphing into unofficial flirting

Eventually that charge sparks, and their relationship becomes a different kind of physical. That’s new, too, a type of exploration neither of them are familiar with, but it’s nice, it’s good, and it’s easier to write off as casual and not meaningful than anything else (for the record I do think this works/plays out different for them than it does for humans, but I will nOt get into that here or anywhere lmao)

That arrangement doesn’t last forever, though, because one night Theo has a bad malfunction that cause him to completely power down, and it sends Will into a panic

It takes him almost an hour to fix the problem and for Theo to reboot, and when he comes back Will can’t stop touching him and checking in and it’s weird

“Why are you so worked up dude, this’s happened plenty of times.”

“Yeah I know you just… you fritzed out and went limp and it freaked me out dude.”

“So? You know this is nothing to worry about. I don’t get why you’re kinda acting like such a pussweed dude.”

“I didn’t know what was wrong! That’s plenty of reason to be fucking worried!”

“Not for you! Not for us! Why the hell do you care so much this time?”

“Because I love you, asshole!”

And then there’s silence, and staring, and then Theo cracks a smile

“Heh, fag.”

Kissing after a confession, as it turns out, makes both of them short circuit, and they wake up three days later still tangled up on top of each other, half falling off the apartment couch

“Y’know… I think we’re both fags now dude,” Will whispers, and they chuckle in the space between their mouths. “I did it first though.”

*he does get this later with Billie and Thea, but that’s a whole separate post

(As one last thing wanted to add that Love Came Along by Pansy Division perfectly encapsulates the vibes of Will n Theo’s relationship to me, AKA something casual and almost humorous while still being super intimate and emotional, so def check it out if you’re ok with suuuuper explicitly sexual lyrics bfgjgfdfg)

Headcanons masterpost

[grailfinders]

Fate and Phantasms #184

Oh shit we’re a day late. Sorry. Now that Summer’s over, Fate and Phantasms is heading out to Shimousa, starting with the Archer of Inferno! You know the deal by this point; true name spoilers and build breakdown below the cut, character sheet over here, but still expect a little bit of spoilage because you can’t spread out a character over 20 levels and not spoil a bit about them.

Next up: I thought the ghost of an occultist driving a car made by a talking lion would be the most convoluted character design for a while. I was wrong.

Tomoe Gozen is a Battle Master Fighter to talk with her fists and throw people around as well as a Hunter Ranger to get her fiery arrows and to specialize in fighting massive crowds.

Race and Background

Tomoe is kind of halfway between an oni and a human, never quite at home in either world. Thankfully that’s exactly what Tieflings are as well, so getting her race is pretty easy. As a Mephistopheles Tiefling she gets +1 Dexterity and +2 Wisdom, Darkvision for night raids, Hellish Resistance to fire damage (it would be awkward if you died to your own inferno), and the Legacy of Cania. This gives you the Mage Hand cantrip immediately, with one casting of Burning Hands and Flame Blade with your Charisma per long rest at third and fifth level respectively.

As the wife of a Lord, you’re the definition of a Noble, giving you proficiency with History and Persuasion. People just like you, y’know?

Ability Scores

Step one; Dexterity. You’re an archer, this shouldn’t come as a surprise that this is pretty high. (I mean I say that, but there’s ton of archers that don’t use bows, so...) Anyways, second is Strength. You throw people around like sacks of potatoes, so you gotta be pretty good at lifting them. Go with Wisdom as your third highest ability. Large scale battles are hectic, you’ve got to have a sharp eye to do your best work in them.  Your Constitution isn’t half bad, oni tend to be able to take a beating. Your Intelligence isn’t that high purely because we need other stuff more, so we’re dumping Charisma. You’re a bit awkward no matter which side of the family you’re talking to.

Class Levels

Ranger 1: Starting off as a ranger gives you plenty of goodies, including plenty of proficiencies, like Strength and Dexterity saves, plus three skills; Insight and Perception to read your enemies and Athletics to make it easier to haul them around. First level rangers also become Deft Explorers, which makes you Canny with athletics. That doubles your proficiency bonus for extra oni strength when you push and pull objects. You can also set a Favored Foe as a bonus action, dealing an extra d4 of damage once per turn after hitting them with an attack. You can do this proficiency times per long rest, and the damage grows as you level up.

Ranger 2: At second level, you gain the Archery fighting style for an extra +2 to your ranged attack rolls. The archer class is really made up of archers, huh? You also learn how to cast Spells using your Wisdom to cast them. Theoretically. You don’t actually have any spells that bother with that. At first level you can use Longstrider to move around the battlefield easier and Absorb Elements to add a little bit of fire to your arrows immediately. That helps less than the other elements since you’re already resistant to fire damage, but we suffer for our art here. Well, you do.

Ranger 3: Making it all the way to third level without burning out grants you entrance to a shiny new conclave, and the Hunter conclave turns you into a Horde Breaker when you take the subclass, specializing you towards dealing with large groups. Once per turn you can make an extra attack, as long as your second target is within 5′ of the first. You also gain Primal Awareness, letting you Speak with Animals. I don’t think anything in canon says you can do this, but your event is one of the only times we hear the servant animals talk, so I’m counting it. You also learn how to cast Zephyr Strike, speeding yourself up and possibly dealing extra damage at the same time. Controlling your spacing is vital when it comes to dealing with tons of enemies.

Ranger 4: Use your first Ability Score Improvement to bump up your Strength for stronger punches. They’ll get even stronger in a second, don’t worry.

Fighter 1: Bounce over to fighter for the Unarmed Fighting fighting style. Now your punches deal 1d6 damage (or 1d8 if you have both free) and you can deal damage to grappled creatures at the start of your turn. You also get a Second Wind, which will heal you as a bonus action.

Ranger 5: We’re done multiclassing for a while, since heading back over to ranger will net you an Extra Attack each action. Now you’ve got two attacks against one target, or three if you can use horde breaker. You also learn second level spells, like Beast Sense and Enhance Ability. I don’t think you’re strong enough yet, so that latter spell will give you advantage on strength checks for the duration. (Or a target creature advantage on any one kind of checks, that’s just the most in-character option.)

Ranger 6: At sixth level Favored Foe grows to a d6, and you also become Roving, which increases your speed and lets you climb and swim without slowing down.

Ranger 7: Seventh level rangers will find it a lot easier to Escape the Horde, forcing disadvantage on all opportunity attacks against you. Right now you’ve still got to keep your distance from your enemies to use your bow and arrow, so this will help. You can also cast Aid to increase your maximum HP along with that of a couple of friends for something that will really excitate your whole lineage.

Fighter 2: Bouncing back to fighter gets you an Action Surge for two actions per turn once per short rest. Now you get up to five attacks in a turn thanks to Horde Breaker and your extra attack.

Fighter 3: If we keep on trucking we’ll hit third level, which is where things get really spicy. As a Battle Master, you get four Combat Superiority d8s per short rest, and you can add one per attack to attack you make, dealing extra damage and adding effects to the blow. Technically. Only one of your maneuvers actually deals with attacks, but that’s Pushing Attack, which will do a lot of work for you. When you hit a creature you deal extra damage, and if they’re smaller than Huge and fail a strength save, they get pushed 15 feet away. Your other maneuvers are Evasive Footwork, adding the d8 to your AC while you move to make fighting you even harder, and Tactical Assessment, adding the die to an Investigation, History, or Insight check. We might not have been able to make you smart, but this should cover whatever tactics you need. You’re also a Student of War, giving you proficiency in any one artisan’s tools. Pick your fave, you’re not exactly Hokusai.

Fighter 4: Our last level in fighter grabs the Crusher feat for +1 Strength and once per turn you can push someone an extra 5 feet as long as they’re large or smaller. Also, critical bludgeoning hits give all attacks against their target advantage until you start your next turn. Now you can fling someone 20′ away, and while that technically doesn’t let you throw them in the air I’d allow it. Honestly, if someone’s moving that far away their feet have got to be leaving the ground at some point.

Ranger 8: Going back to Ranger for good now gets another ASI right away, and Gunner is a weird feat to pick, but hear me out. It’s basically the crossbow expert feat, but it trades that bonus action attack for a +1 to Dexterity, which is way more useful since you don’t use a hand crossbow. You also get proficiency with and can ignore loading on firearms, but most D&D games don’t have those anyway, so it’s fine to be a bit out of character. The real good reason we’re here is to ignore disadvantage on your ranged attacks if people are near you. Archery and brawling don’t normally go together, now they do. You also get Land’s Stride so you can move through difficult terrain easier and have advantage on saves against magical terrain. You leave a lot of corpses around in Shimousa, but this’ll help you keep your footing in that demiplane of skulls you do your boss fight in.

Ranger 9: Ninth level rangers get third level spells, like your Primal Awareness spell Speak with Plants. That might sound totally out of character, but it turns out there’s a legit reason for it: Hey look over there, it’s Flame Arrows! Finally, you can dip 12 arrows into fiery goodness, and each one deals an extra 1d6 fire damage on a hit. You’ve got up to an hour to use all of them, but it also takes concentration so don’t get too attached.

Ranger 10: Tenth level rangers are Tireless, letting you heal yourself with temporary HP as an action Proficiency times per day, and you heal exhaustion on short rests. Some people call that inhuman, I call it efficient. Gilgamesh wishes he had what you do. You can also use Nature’s Veil to turn invisible for a round as a bonus action Proficiency times per long rest. Think of it like a smoke bomb. Or a wildfire bomb. Just set things on fire, hide in the fire, done.

Ranger 11: At eleventh level, hunters can let out a Volley of ranged attacks, letting you attack every creature within a 10′ radius of a point you can see. Technically, this means you can pump out up to 50 attacks per round thanks to Action Surge, assuming a lot of creatures are dumb enough to clump up next to each other. 51, sorry, Horde breaker’s still there. To make getting into position easier you also learn the UA spell Flame Stride, negating opportunity attacks, bumping your speed up by 20 feet, and dealing fire damage to nearby creatures when you run by them. It also explicitly sets items on fire, so now we know how you caused so much damage in Shimousa.

Ranger 12: Use this ASI to round up your Strength and Dexterity for stronger punches, tougher punch saves, better arrows, and a higher AC. A banner level for you.

Ranger 13: Your new fourth level spell from Primal Awareness, Locate Creature is way easier to justify than the last one. You just know where the enemy general is located, even in the thick of battle. We’re basically building a Dynasty Warriors character at this point, aren’t we? You also get Freedom of Movement, just in case you need to speed around the battlefield without setting stuff on fire. I know, it’s boring without the fire. You just have to make due for two more levels.

Ranger 14: Your Favored Foe grows again, and you can Vanish as a bonus action, hiding yourself without any way to track you, bar magic.

Ranger 15: Your final spell of the build will turn you into a mighty inferno that can burn down all of Shimousa! Well, not really, but if you Summon Elemental then Vanish away, it’s almost like you turned into a fire elemental, right? You can also Stand Against the Tide, using your reaction to redirect a missed melee attack at another creature. It’s really hard to hit you when you run away, so I suggest fishing for attacks of opportunity for extra damage.

Ranger 16: Use your final ASI to grab the Tough feat for an extra 40 HP. Onis, man. They’re hard to kill.

Pros:

You specialize in dealing with large groups of enemies, with plenty of ways to move through them and attack over large areas at once.

Working with your bow and fists means you’re never in a bad position in a fight. Hah hah, you ambushed the archer, I guess you’re just getting your skulls bashed in instead.

Your range and speed, combined with your punches’ pushing power, means you are great at choosing your fights. For the most part you can determine where and when you fight an enemy, giving you a pretty solid advantage. As long as your DM doesn’t make all the fights take place in a vacant plain somewhere.

Cons:

Your charisma is pretty dismal, so even if you have a plan in mind good luck getting people to follow it.

You’re also pretty unfocused, and I mean that in every sense of the word. You’d be a lot more consistent with damage if you only focused on punching or arrows, and since you’re specialized for bunches of weak enemies single bosses can be tricky.

Most of your magic damage is Fire, which is easy to resist. If you’re up against a demon or devil, you might just have a bad time.

[sullustangin]

Theron Shan Week, Prompt 1: Childhood

Corellia, 14 ATC (3639 BBY)

(Post Annihilation, pre-Hutt Cartel)

Word Count: ~3000

Rating:  PG/T

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33142732

A whoosh of air.

He touched down on the last building ledge before the street turned into a crater.  He recalibrated his jetpack for the potentially dangerous terrain he was about to face below.  This job was to be a quick one.  Recover personnel data and exfiltrate to the remains of the Coronet Spaceport.  Then it was on to Makeb for initial reconnaissance. That job would take more time than this one, but still, it had to be quick.  Too much was buzzing there, literally and figuratively…

Theron Shan was willing to bet there’d be boots on the ground not long after the new galactic year rolled in.  He leapt from his perch on the building and activated the retroboosters just in time to let himself touch down softly, flexing his foot against the ground to test stability. 

Acceptable.  Theron switched the pack to standby and fixed his attention on what was beneath his feet.  That was always the center of focus now, lest he plunge down into the sewers as the ground gave way.  

Before proceeding any further, Theron called up old holostills.  Despite the ruin of Coronet City, certain features remained identifiable, and he’d be damned if he was going to go rooting through the wrong building.

He’d done his best to forget this place, after all. 

As his implants matched key architectural features and the crumbling skyline, Theron closed his eyes to conjure long-shelved memories.

Yes, he had stood here before.  This used to be the gymnasium.  He’d spent countless hours there.  It was the one place he could fly. It was the last place his body had been perfect.

Well, almost.  He’d had an adventurous childhood.  There was certainly a difference, however, between slicing his foot on a shell on the Gold Beaches and being shot in some Czerka factory on Telos IV.  Theron impulsively ran his tongue over his new teeth.  After Ziost, he estimated he had six original teeth left.  

Funny how he thought of that in the place he cut his last molars.  

That all said, Theron never had a particularly strong opinion about his body.   His body was a tool, something he used to serve the Republic and work in the Strategic Information Service.  

Just as his boot nudged a sign, covered over in dust, his implants chirped to confirm his location. Using a heavily gloved hand, he crouched to wipe the metal plate just enough to read the lasered words: CORONET CITY MILITARY ACADEMY GYMNA—

The rest of the sign was broken off, probably somewhere in this rubble.  It confirmed everything else though, including his own recollections about this place.

As Theron tread carefully through the ruin, his focus was on the rubble under his feet and the map in his implants, augmented by the old memories that ran in his head like holos.

Those were simple tasks, however.  Theron’s mind was far more active than that, much to his annoyance.  He thought back…

**

His mind and body had been sharply honed from a young age.  The discipline of a Jedi was more than mental.  However, he noticed the first hint that something was wrong with him. Theron had to work so hard, and he had to be so much more fit he than the other younglings he occasionally encountered in his travels with Master Zho.  Yes, he was strong and athletic and graceful.  But Theron struggled.  He fought gravity, as others danced with it.  

Theron remembered her in particular.  The girl who had bested him with such little effort was also the most compassionate of the bunch.  She was going to be a great Jedi, he knew it.  She barely bent her knees before she could launch high in the air, and she landed silently, as if invisible wings lowered her back to the dusty earth. Theron had to put everything he had into the launch, and the soil puffed up around him in the arid environment as his body displaced it.

She was poetry.  He was gutter-speak.  

Theron could defeat ill-disciplined younglings, but someone like her – someone who took this just as seriously as he did – outmatched him.  He tired long before she did, and it was a mystery to him how her muscles did not ache, how her breath never managed to run out.  

It was only in retrospect that Theron realized he had a crush on her.  At the time, the warm feeling that had crept across his face whenever she spoke to him, the small flutter his tiny, preteen heart gave – that had been dismissed.  Jedi didn’t fall in love.  Jedi didn’t have selfish attachments.

Theron wanted to become a padawan on the off-chance he’d be paired with his mother as his master.    

The dream changed – it had to – after Haashimut.  

Zho left him without telling him he was as Force-null as his biological father likely had been -whoever he was.

Nobody knew who his biological father was.

His mother didn’t come for him.  They couldn’t find her.

As he turned 14, Theron was lodged at Coronet City Military Academy.   Here.

**

Theron turned.  This was where the lift had been that went down to the basement, where the janitorial offices and the records facility had been.  He peered over the edge of the shaft.  No, he wasn’t going to risk it.  Theron activated the magnetic picks on the toes of his boots, turned the retroboosters to standby, just in case, and he started the dusty, sweaty climb down. The heat that built up reminded him of one particular shame that came over him --

**

Theron was put on a brief crash course of all the subjects Jedi hasn’t necessarily prioritized in his education to this point.  

He discovered his mother was imperfect and had apparently broken the Jedi code.  At least once.  Theron was evidence – a body of evidence.

He was embarrassed. He felt like he’d been fooled by everyone about his mother, about his abilities, about his life – everything.

The first bubbling of teenage fury rose up in him, and when the school registrar asked for his name, he did not supply “Theron Zho” as he so often had when traveling with his so-called ‘father.’

“My name is Theron Shan.”

Theron hadn’t known at the time that “Shan” was as common as Smith or Parr or K’tilhok in certain corners of the galaxy.  He thought he was being defiant.   He was one of nineteen Shans in his class at the Coronet City Military Academy.  So much for that rebellion, that attempt at scandal that would surely bring her to confront him…to see him for the first time since he was six months old.

Theron always carried that last holo with him… the one of her with him and her.  The anger died away when the news reached him that Satele Shan had rediscovered Tython.  It wouldn’t be formally founded and populated for another few years, but she had done the impossible.  To her credit, she had sent word to the governors of the Academy that she was gratified that Master Zho’s charge Theron had been safely placed in their care.

The business of Tython would be a long process that took time.  She was going to be busy.  

Theron continued to train his body and maintain the physical fitness he had, even though he was never going to have the opportunity to do a backflip, summon his lightsaber into his hand, and duel a Sith Lord atop of a ship hull or anything like that.  

Theron also found out that the kind Jedi youngling had become a padawan.  She was killed at the Coruscant temple.  He didn’t want to remember her name anymore.  It hurt too much, for he had realized that if he had been Force Sensitive, he wouldn’t be here on Corellia in so many ways.

That first Life Day on Corellia, Theron knew the conundrum of his heart being so warm and yet the outside world being so cold as other children went home on weekends and holidays, and he remained in the dormitory.  His bed assignment was changed at the end of term, so nobody thought anything was amiss.  Everyone’s bed assignment was changed between terms. He wasn’t thought to be any different than other child.  His parents just got him late and returned him early, his peers thought.  It was impossible that he stayed there for a month by himself.

But he did.

**

Theron always remembered the janitors that cared for the building and the one chef that remained to feed him and the residential staff.  It wasn’t just a holdover from Jedi teachings about equality and respect.   He mouthed their names as he passed the doorless thresholds that were once their offices: C’thik.  Donya.  Thileo. Danodeen.  They cared for Theron.  He cared about them the best he could.

Something inside Theron hurt any time he had an urge to express his feelings beyond gratitude.  Many impulses to hug were suppressed.  When he woke up from the formless terror that pursued him in the night, he did want to scream out, in the hopes someone heard him. But he pushed that down.  He grew up, or at least he imitated the idea of what he thought was being a grown up.

**

Theron’s constant presence at the Academy came with the assumption of an unhappy home, so in the second term, it appeared some well-meaning mothers encouraged their sons to befriend him. He remembered some of them.  They’d grown up in places like this too.  

Theron didn’t remember the names of his … companions?  Fellow inmates?  all that well.  They were good kids.  They didn’t get Theron, who was so mature about some stuff but just so oblivious to other stuff, like girls and music and holos and virtual games.  

The girls at the Academy were made of braver stuff than the boys were.  Theron didn’t know what to make of them, for the most part, but they at least tried to strike up a conversation with him.  They asked how he was.  He failed, utterly, at small talk, so once their questions were answered, he moved on.  The girls were brazen in coming to watch him in the gymnasium.  Theron was already in SIS by the time he figured out they hadn’t been interested in the technical merits of his routine.

The boys (with one exception) never got too close to Theron.  They were terrified of him after he knocked an upperclassman’s teeth down his throat for trying to shake down the class runt in Theron’s year for his datapad.  They still hung out with him, but they watched him with the same fascination they had when they visited the zoo’s jaggalors.  He was a creature so fierce they were never even tempted to tap on the glass, see how he was doing, what was going on inside.  

The one exception’s name was Arlo, the runt in question, and the datapad was his comic book collection. The collection had been started by his grandfather and maintained by his father and uncle and passed down to the smallest Gran ever born in that family.  

Theron thought it was the most wonderful thing to have a hand-me-down anything from anyone.  

Arlo wasn’t bothered when Theron asked why he was being trained in the military arts; the Gran had strict career quotas, and everyone was expected to do their part.  Arlo was not an obvious candidate for battlefield hero. “I’m in this to get into the intelligence service. SIS.”

That was the first time Theron ever heard of what would become the rest of his life.  

In exchange for self-defense lessons, Theron became very knowledgeable about the last 75 years of comic books. It was still the only element of pop culture he kept up with.  Theron kept it to himself; his dates never got it. He and Arlo plotted their schedules so that they could train together, study together, and have a free period on the day of the week when the comics hit the holostands.  They took the tram to the nearest major holostand – the one near the academy didn’t have comics, possibly at the behest of the commandant. In their minds, nothing was going to stand in the way of them getting into SIS together and seeing the galaxy and fighting the Empire.

…Somewhere in the middle of that, as he stood in the basement, Theron realized he had still been just a child.

**

Well, this might have been a wasted trip.  Theron stood in what remained of the records office.  At the back of the room, there was a great kriffing hole that vented down into the sewer he’d been so anxious to avoid, and half the databanks had clearly collapsed into it.  If they’d been swept away, then it was game over for Theron.  Ugh.  The flimsi work he’d have to file.

Then again, it was only half the databanks.   He still had a 50/50 chance of success.   Theron activated his implants and scanned for the power source.  Aha, there.  And it had a battery back-up.  Theron waited for the full report on the battery’s health before he did anything. He needed to know how much time he had.

He wanted to be done with this place.  

Once the battery passed its health screening, Theron sliced in with his implants and booted the entire system up with the clearance codes he’d been given by the current commandant; the one Theron had known was long gone.  

Yes, he knew there was corruption.  Yes, he knew critical files were missing.  Yes, yes, yes, yes, please boot up now –

Would he like an index of available files?

Yes, yes, he would.  It would tell him whether this was pointless –

Or not.  It was not.  The two sets of files he had been instructed to extract and wipe from this system were right there. The Empire hadn’t even realized it had trodden right over vital intel about the agent now known as Technoplague and the SIS Director.

**

Marcus Trant had been Coronet City Military Academy’s finest alumnus, rising high and fast before, during, and just after the Great Galactic War.  His arrival on campus had turned heads.  Not Theron’s.  Theron remained focused on his study and his physical routine.  

It was after Theron had stuck the landing on his floor routine that the man approached him. Theron remembered watching him with wariness until he introduced himself as the Director of SIS.  He was seeking recruits for the agency’s early start program. Promising 16 and 17 year-olds could go. Since Theron was a ward of the state, it was entirely his choice; parental permission wasn’t required.  

Theron’s first question was whether Arlo could go with him.

Arlo was ultimately sidelined from SIS due to a heart murmur.  Even if he was just an analyst, SIS wanted him to be able to handle himself in a blaster fight, and they didn’t want to kill him while training him. That meant he went back home to become a religious scholar.  

Theron went to SIS. Arlo gave him a copy of the comic collection, with his father’s permission.

Then the rest of Theron’s life had started.

**

Theron checked the files to ensure he’d copied everything over before wiping and reformatting those sectors of the database.  For Trant, his files could be a wealth of raw data and inspiration; he could have drawn on his experience at the academy to create codenames passcodes, associations. He could have used innocuous childhood memories to create these items.  Someone with enough data about Trant’s life could feasibly put the pieces together.

For Theron, it was all about his biometrics: his medical records, his yearbook holos, even his growth charts could be used to identify him in the field as a grown man.  The name didn’t matter as much as the evidence of the body.

He was done here. Theron sent the final command to wipe that area of the database and reformat.  Trant and Theron were no longer documented alumni here.

As Theron readied his jetpack for exfiltration (he was keeping it simple: up and out), his implants sorted the images attached to the files before sealing them.  He saw something.

He paused the process to have a look at his 14-year-old self.   He was 14 years and 5 weeks, actually.  Zho had sent him to Haashimut 7 weeks before, just before his birthday.  

…and he looked terrified. His life had been ripped apart, and he was flying without a safety net or a familiar face anywhere near him. Theron though he heard the whine of a holocam that would signal a great white flash --

Theron pushed back at the memory, as he always had, and he dismissed the holo, letting the sealing process finish.  It was over. There was nothing he could do now. He was no longer a failed Jedi Youngling.  

…it was all about context. Theron ignited the jetpack and began his ascent out of the ruin of the Academy.  

He’d had a good childhood with Master Zho – if he could forget what happened next.  In all honesty, nothing awful had happened at Coronet City Military Academy to make him hate the place.  It had been his haven between being a Jedi and being an SIS agent.   But it was being between lives that had made Theron so miserable: his past was irrelevant and his future was uncertain for almost three years.  That was the context that made every moment there excruciating.

But that was done and over with.  He was fine. He had his career.  Arlo had his career and his ever-expanding comic collection. They still commed once in awhile.

As Theron landed at the spaceport, a message came through his implants from his personal Holonet box. Oh.  Karrie.  

Kriff, he’d forgotten to tell her –

Kriff.   He was off to Makeb and he’d forgotten to tell the girlfriend he wasn’t even on Coruscant.

Well, if she was the girlfriend after that screw-up.  He left it on ‘read.’  He’d try to comm her in transit.  Theron really did like her.  He was pretty sure he was in love with her.

Theron would deal with the personal stuff later.  On to Makeb and the next mission.  

Neither the Republic presence on the planet or the girlfriend endured the following year.

Author’s Note:  I’ve had this sort of headcanon dump file for Theron, and I drew this out of it.  I have a few more bits still in it.  In terms of timeline, I imagine that after the Treaty of Coruscant was finalized, Satele disappeared to go find Tython for the better part of 18 months.  It’s during this period -- as Theron is 13 going on 14 -- that Zho finally gives up on him and Theron leaves the Jedi.  Satele finds Tython and finally gets word of Theron’s situation. I decided that “finding Tython” and the “founding of Tython” are two separate events; the Jedi didn’t just move in the second Satele popped up with the good news.  So 3653-3651 is a transition period for the Republic, Satele, and Theron at the same time.  It’s a new galaxy for the losers of the war.

@theronshanweek-official

[yumgrapejuice]

uh oh, what’s this? another small snippet from enderwalk ranboo’s life? yes. blame @grubus for enabling me. expect more in the future, too. i’m brainrotting okay

anyways, in this house we stan overprotective and attached enderwalk ranboo, no i won’t be taking criticism

---

Tubbo hammered in the rest of the nails and leaned back, wiping at his forehead. He could technically hire people to do repairs instead (Ranboo was rich enough for that), but there was something nice about some hands-on work once in awhile. And besides, this was his house. Like hell he’d trust anyone else with it. 

Yes, he did, in fact, know better than construction workers.

He strapped the tools back to his belt, gathered any unused planks and threw them off the roof. Usually he didn’t look where he’d toss stuff (if someone was there, well, that was on them), but now his eyes fell on the ground and he nearly jumped out of his skin.

“Ranboo! I didn’t see you!” he exclaimed in surprise, chuckling. “How long have you been there?”

Ranboo was staring up at him from the base of the house, still as a statue, an odd expression on his face, silent. Tubbo frowned and tilted his head at him. Ranboo followed, and only then did Tubbo notice his pupils were blown as wide as saucers. 

Ah, so that was what it was.

“Oh, are you in your feral state?” he laughed. “Sleepyboo!”

Ranboo chirped in response, and that was all the confirmation Tubbo needed.

“Gimme a moment, I’ll get down,” he said, still giggling, as he began climbing off, less careful than he should. It’d been awhile since this Ranboo had come over, after all, so excitement was already fluttering in his chest.

Once he’d gotten to the ladder, though, Ranboo reached his arms out to him, twittering. Tubbo raised a brow at him.

“What, you want to catch me?” he asked, bemused.

Ranboo made grabby hands at him as if to say “yes”. Tubbo huffed, unable to keep a smile away at the childish gesture.

“Okay, but if I die, I’m going to haunt you.”

Tubbo repositioned himself so that his feet were dangling off the edge. Ranboo stepped closer, waiting. There was something endearing about the way Ranboo was looking up at him, so transfixed, like a cat. Tubbo chuckled to himself. Yeah, exactly like that.

Awake Ranboo would never accept such a comparison, which made it all that more funny.

“Alright, here I go!”

He jumped, right into Ranboo’s embrace. Ranboo squeaked, stumbling back, but managed to hold them both up. Only then did Tubbo realize this was also tall Ranboo. Tall as in enderman tall. He got like that sometimes, mostly in this state, but, again, it’d been awhile.

Tubbo was short as is, but this was just ridiculous.

Chittering like a delighted bird, Ranboo spun the two around, making Tubbo latch onto him like onto a lifeline, half screeching, half laughing. He knew Ranboo wouldn’t drop him, no matter how much he moved around, but man was he not used to this. Awake Ranboo would never.

In hindsight, he should have expected it. He called it “feral state” for a reason, after all.

“Okay, okay, you got me, you got me, knock it off!” Tubbo squealed. “I’m getting dizzy!”

Ranboo came to a stop at that, but instead of releasing him, with a swift motion he threw Tubbo around and caught him again. Now with Tubbo’s back against his chest, arms winded around his middle, realization washed over Tubbo, and with it, dread.

Oh no.

“Ranboo?” he spoke, wary.

Instead of answering, the bastard started walking, tweeting along happily.

“Not again,” Tubbo groaned. “Ranboo, let go of me.”

As expected, that went ignored.

Goddammit.

“I’m serious!”

Ranboo only chirruped, patting the top of Tubbo’s head before securing his arm around him again.

Tubbo started squirming, trying to kick whatever he could reach, but Ranboo was wholly unaffected. He continued strolling along the wooden path winding across Snowchester without a care in the world like the empty-headed menace that he was. Where the hell was he even going?

“Come on, Ranboo, you had your fun, now let me go! This is embarrassing!”

When his pleas went unheard, Tubbo resigned to his fate with a scowl, crossing his arms. That was very awkward to achieve in this position but it was about making a statement.

Soon enough Tubbo realized Ranboo was going in circles.

Great.

Really living up to that feral part.

Now, maybe this wouldn’t have been that much of a problem, if other people didn’t live here, too. In particular, Tubbo could see Jack observing them with a perturbed expression from his porch, whatever task he’d been working on forgotten. He begged Jack would just leave it be but the stars were simply not on his side today at all.

So, during the third round, Jack called out, “Uh, you two okay there?”

“Yes, we’re fine!” Tubbo yelled back. 

“Why is, uh, he carrying you?”

“I broke my legs. Ranboo is taking me to the doctor.”

Jack sputtered in response, the perplexity on his face almost comical.

“I’ve seen you three time here already!” he said. “That seems like a very inefficient path!”

“We’re going to the doctor, Jack Manifold! The doctor!”

Jack looked like he wanted to say something more, but in the end decided against it. Just shook his head and went back to whatever he’d been doing, giving the two of them weird looks until Ranboo once again turned a corner.

This was really getting ridiculous.

“Ranboo-o-o,” Tubbo wailed for the eighth time. “Let me go-o-o.”

And for the eighth time, Ranboo ignored him. He’d gotten a little skip in his step, and though Tubbo wanted to only be exasperated, he couldn’t keep the fondness down, too. Goddamn Ranboo and his… stupid peculiarities.

When Ranboo got attached, he got attached.

...That gave Tubbo an idea.

“Hey, Ranboo?” he spoke up. “You wanna go see Michael?”

And just like that, Ranboo stopped. A moment later, he turned on his heel and zoomed straight to their house. Tubbo couldn’t help but laugh at that. This Ranboo had no self-control or subtlety whatsoever.

Inside, Ranboo finally put Tubbo down in favor of whizzing up the ladder like the cat that he was. Shaking his head, Tubbo followed, and by the time he got up, Ranboo already had a squealing Michael in his arms, cooing and chirping at him.

The look of pure adoration on Ranboo’s face could melt anyone’s heart, and Tubbo was no exception.

Seriously, goddamn Ranboo and all his stupid peculiarities.

[dreaming-of-assclass]

AssClass Recon Team AU

Otherwise known as a team I made up

I CANNOT BELIEVE I NEVER TALKED ABOUT THIS BEFORE.

I was looking at my super old AssClass docs from 2019 and found one of my favorite ideas that I somehow forgot 😭

Basically: I made up a team consisting of the students with the canonically highest stats in scouting and info-gathering

These students are Takebayashi, Kimura, Itona, Okajima, and Okano. I left out Nagisa and Ritsu on purpose (I’ll explain later)

Under the cut has all the info. Please humor me guys haha

Okano technically doesn’t have a 5 like the others do (she has a four), but I pretended she does because my girl needs SOMETHING ok??? She can’t just be good at kicking people ahem canon ahem. She’s the only female student who doesn’t specialize in a category so I gave her this.

Anyways moving on.

Karasuma put these kids together, but it was technically Irina who came up with the idea in the first place. She was talking about how she nearly got into trouble with a recon team once on a mission, and how efficient “those damn bastards were.” Then she offhandedly mentioned how 3-E might be good at that. Then Karasuma was like 🤯 big brain time

Then he assembled Class E’s Recon Team.

I know in canon, the Art Trio sort of are shown to have this role.

But I’d to emphasize that this group of kids are better suited for information-gathering, scaling and sneaking into places, taking out security ok that’s a lil intense but you get the point lmao

They kind of do the prep-work in a sense. And then other members of the class follow out commands, lead, etc

Roles:

Takebayashi:

Leader, Medical Expert, Explosives Expert, researching skills

(Yes, Leader Takebayashi because I genuinely believe he has the potential. And it would lead to a very nice arc about gaining confidence in himself.)

He pretty much handles anything science-related, as well as finding info on anything. He also can retain information the best.

Okano:

Hand-to-Hand Combatant, stealth skills, ability to scale a wide range of surfaces, sneak into places, disarm anyone

She handles much more of the physical aspect of things on this team, given that she’s an amazing fighter and without a doubt the best amongst them. She uses her gymnastic skills to get to places, and climb anywhere. Also has amazing night vision, which comes in handy.

Kimura:

Scout, fastest runner, acts as a diversion, good agility, stealth, dexterity, knowledge of how to use radio equipment and basic weapons

Listen I know this sounds bad lmfao. “Knowledge of weapons” dhdhhdjejdd but both his parents are police officers so he definitely has learned some things. He absolutely might be one of the best when it comes to handling radio/transmission stuff. And he can use his basic knowledge of weapons/combat so he’s prepared to avoid/dodge it somehow.

Kimura is definitely the best when it comes to diversions. He can outrun basically anyone, and he’s so naturally annoying he can provoke people lmao.

Itona:

Mechanic, Engineer, Inventor, knowledge of how things work/are made, able to create helpful tools like a robot, can fix things, etc

We already know this boy is so talented at what he does haha. In canon, there are plenty of examples alone. But yeah, his main job is to invent things that can infiltrate anywhere and gather info like that.

Okajima:

Spotter, knowledge of how security cameras work and how to avoid them, stealth skills, wide range of view and focus

Listen in my AU, Okajima gets a good arc where he has grown from using these skills to be a perv, and instead is a valued member of the class and talented assassin.

So yeah, I’m sticking mostly to canon with this one. He’s mainly a spotter and is tasked with catching anything, like hidden cameras. He can also lowkey hack into them, if needed. He’s like their watch guy, of sorts. He’s also very sneaky and is good at not being caught, when he’s really concentrating.

Honorary Members:

I know Nagisa and Ritsu both have a 6 in this category, and are the best in the class. And that’s kind of why I didn’t include them. I think both their skillsets are different and more advanced than these kids. Also...

Nagisa kind of works better on his own. That’s like his whole Assassin thing. He gathered info on Koro by himself, he handles most things on his own because it’s his style. It’s how he’s most efficient. So he’ll help out the team from time to time, but yeah. Also he specializes in body language, which is different than them.

Ritsu is just so knowledgeable and skilled in a lot of things. I think her abilities would be spread across the class, helping everyone in some way. She wouldn’t stick to a particular group if she’s able to do so much more. So yes, she’ll help them a lot but she’s there for the whole class.

And...I know Mimura’s stand-out trait in Civil War was labeled as “reconnaissance” but he has a very low score in this category compared to the other kids. And that’s why he’s an honorary member, but not really apart of them.

Team Dynamics:

I will make a longer post about this, but to sum it up kinda:

Itona is in charge of the one braincell they all share.

Kimura and Okajima are clowns and usually the ones who lighten the mood

Okano has beaten them all up and she’ll do it again

Takebayashi is the quietly chaotic one, usually makes backhanded remarks which only Itona with catch lmao

They are one short as hell group. Takebayashi takes a lot of pride in being the tallest...until Okano and Kimura tag-team to knock him down

Itona and Okajima.......yeah, don’t worry, Okano is there to beat them up if they say even one perverted word

When Okano and Kimura are on the same page, everyone is scared

They don’t really respect Takebayashi as leader lmao, in fact he’s the number one teasing target.

Itona isn’t treated as baby as usual in this group and he loves it

Ok I know this was a lot haha. But it’s one of my fave ideas and I really wanted to share it with you 💜

[ask-purpled-and-blued]

Blued

This was not how he expected his afternoon to go.

It started out normal enough. With him making sure the caves around Area 51 were mob-proofed so he could start planning out some expansions.

He didn’t have a lot planned and wasn’t aware of any ongoing conflicts. So it came as a total surprise when he looked down at chat as saw the string of death messages.

(—This one’s got some heavy injuries and claustrophobic stuff. It’s got some L’Manberg war events. Mind the post’s tags and reply if it needs more.—)

Poor Tubbo. He was getting wrecked by like half the people on-world.

Purpled knew that conflicts on the SMP got a little too heated at times, to the point where items despawned because they’d been ripped from inventories and left ungathered.

So he shot Tubbo a whisper asking if there was anything Tubbo was missing. He’d check his chests and give Tubbo some armor and tools, least he can do.

Tubbo_: YES PLEASE FOOD AND HARMING

He could do that. He respected Tubbo’s apparent need to avenge himself.

He had plenty of stacks of baked potatoes and he’d done a few fortress runs for blaze rods. He brewed two sets of splash Harming II before he whispered again.

Purpled: just harm II?

Tubbo_: whatever you can spare us big man.

Us? Purpled checked the tab list again and sure enough, four people had crossed back into the SMP.

He felt like he was starting to piece things together.

Purpled: is something going down today?

Tubbo_: yeah! Eret, Tommy, Fundy, Wilbur and I are fighting for our independance

Tubbo_: :D

Purpled: ...

Alright he knew for a fact that everyone in that group except Eret was broke as hell. His friends were about to get fucking obliterated.

...

Fuck it.

Purpled: I‘ll throw in some heal II and gapples if you can wait for them.

Tubbo_: I’ll come by through the sewers when they’re ready

—

If Purpled was being honest, he didn’t know if helping his friends oppose Dream was the best idea.

That being said, he did not move from where he sat perched on a chest in his section of the sewers.

Said chest was filled with food, healing II and harming II pots, blocks, enderpearls, clean bows and every other thing that Tubbo texted him frantically that they were running low on.

At the moment they were apparently being fired on and were taking cover in Tommy’s- in the Embassy.

When Purpled saw that message he offered to take the sewers to the Embassy and do a drop-off. Tubbo agreed.

So now Purpled’s running through the sewers with a bunch of items and clad in full enchanted netherite. Having left his pets sealed in Area 51 with his valuables and nonessential tools.

He’s climbing up the ladder and pulling the chest up behind him, only to almost get shot in the face by Eret.

“No no no no no! Purpled’s with us and he’s got us stuff!”

Tubbo’s pulls Eret back and helps Purpled pull the chest up.

“What a way to welcome an ally.”

“You’re helping us?” Wilbur asks with a reasonable amount of suspicion.

“Won’t pretend that I believe in whatever you’re fighting for but at least trust that I’m here for Tubbo.”

“I’m vouching for him. He’s trustworthy!”

There’s still mistrust but he didn’t expect them to clap him on the back and ask for his input. The nod he gets from Wilbur and the acceptance from Tommy are better than nothing.

—

He’s with Tommy and Tubbo as they try to snipe Dream’s forces from Punz’s tower. He’d been hesitant to follow Tommy’s lead but it was the right call. They were untouchable at this height.

Seeing Dream, George, Punz, and Sapnap all retreat was a hell of a boost to moral.

—

He wanted to ask why the fuck Eret hadn’t just given them the gear up front instead of equipping it mid-war, but benefit of the doubt. Maybe he thought they’d be better equipped.

Though if they had then Purpled might not be here crouching down these stairs behind Tommy.

It was a bit of a squeeze to get down there and the room itself a was bit crowded.

Purpled took a couple steps back when he didn’t see his name on a chest to give everyone else some room-

“What’s this button do?”

And was slammed between a block and the wall as a piston extended

There’s a moment where it’s just pain, his friends shouting, and his communicator ringing out what can only be death messages.

Then the piston retracts, Purpled splashes himself with Heal II, and he slams his netherite pick through the blocks behind him.

Eret’s speaking, everyone’s shouting through an open VC. He can hear Tommy’s words over the whoops of victory.

And as he splashes down a second Heal II and a Speed II, he hears the exact moment of silence when they realize he survived.

He doesn’t stick around to let them be five for five.

He tears up the stairs and drops a water bucket behind him.

He needs to get to the surface. He needs to stop tripping on the steps. He needs to stop shaking.

He needs fresh air he needs space he needs to breathe.

And he manages to claw his way out of the staircase, slams blocks down behind him even if he can’t tell if they’re following.

He lays there with his back on the grass and his aching chest to the sky. The healing has mended him enough to function but he takes out a third bottle. Rolls over onto his stomach so that he can try and sit up enough to drink this one and heal his insides some more.

Then there’s someone standing over him pointing a stone axe in his face.

“Did you know?”

He knows it’s Tommy before he even sees it’s Tommy.

“Are you another fucking traitor?”

Purpled doesn’t know how to respond to that, so he ignores the axe in his face and starts swallowing as much of the potion as he can.

“Tommy, Tommy for Christ’s sake look at him and tell me you think he’s a traitor. He looks like he got ran over by the camarvan.”

He’s well enough to actually sit up and look at himself.

His armor’s majorly cracked all over, some bits he can feel poking against his skin. His hands are all sorts of fucked up from how he pulled himself along.

His potions are top notch though, because he feels almost good as new.

“You shoulda seen the wall, it ended up worse off than I did after that.” Is the best he can come up with at the moment.

Tubbo helps him up and Tommy goes to shout at Eret and Dream who rang a VC.

—

It’s all so quick after that.

An ultimatum, explosions, confusion.

Purpled trying not to stumble as Tubbo pulls him along a narrow hallway to Tommy’s bunker.

Purpled trying to breathe normally as Tommy plays a music disk in the tiny bunker and Wilbur talks about surrender. He’s not sure if he’s winded or if there really just isn’t enough air in the room.

Negotiations, a duel, Tommy’s loss.

Being led back to the walls as Wilbur mourned and Eret got insulted. Fundy reading poetry.

—

His heart’s not in it when Tommy reveals what he did. When they’re scrambling for a book and quill and Wilbur’s elects himself.

But he laughs with the rest as Wilbur dunks on Dream in an official document.

As he gets promised a medal and a title of honor for his efforts during the war and is passed the book to sign.

It doesn’t feel like a victory, both because it technically isn’t and because he’s not sure what he’s won.

He has a heart to heart with Tommy before he walks off with Tubbo. Picks himself up, salutes his president and goes to bring DogChamp back up to the UFO and seal it so he can sleep for twelve hours.

—

Life is good, after that.

He works on his base, hangs out with the other L’Manberg people, starts a potion stockpile.

Oh, there’s that.

He makes it a habit to keep himself armed and prepared even if he doesn’t look it. People are constantly provoking each other even if it’s technically a time of peace, and he’d prefer not to be caught off guard ever again.

And he also ended up getting that medal Wilbur promised him. A “Purpled Heart” given for his material contributions to the war efforts and for being heavily wounded in battle.

He’d rather be able to strip mine again, but he accepted the medal anyways.

—

There’s no way he could’ve known what this country would do to itself in the coming months.

A couple acts of kindness and a show of loyalty did not sign him up for that, and yet he’d face it anyways.

They all would.

He doesn’t know if it was meant to be, but some nights he sure as fuck wishes it never was.

He doesn’t dramatically declare that in a room with a button, though. At least he’s got that on them.

[female-overlord-3]

Bring Them Home  Ch 15 Smash

This fic is slow going with everything but going. Kept this baby as a draft until I wrote the next chapter :D

Alex, Michael, and Isobel bond and talk! Enjoy 💛

Read on AO3

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They get their 3 hours and a little bit more until Michael finally becomes the voice of reason.

"As much as I want to spend the rest of the day with you, I need to check in with Sanders and do my actual day job. Plus Izzy is nothing but greedy for all the attention on her."

Alex just gives him a look before dragging Michael back onto the bed and rolling to be on top.

"This is a once in a blue moon lazy day for me Michael. You give me another hour and then I'll be satisfied."

Their first hour was the nap after their call, Michael carrying a dozing Alex to his bed so they'd be more comfortable. The second was Michael thoroughly massaging Alex's full body after Alex does his at home PT routine. The third was them switching between kissing and talking.

Michael wouldn't mind the third hour becoming 2 straight hours of more talking and kissing. He also doesn't think he can move because Alex is pretty much the ideal weight for holding him down.

Then the small touches start. One hand moving to his neck as a thumb swipes up and down his throat slowly before it moves to sink into his curls. Fingers gently digging into his scalp as lips press randomly across his torso and above. Michael is in actual heaven as he loses time to Alex's devoting touches until his left hand cramps and he lets out a hiss from the pain.

Lifting up Alex gives him space to do whatever he needs, his face pinched in worry and flickers of guilt at seeing Michael cradle his hand.

"Do you need a heat compress or acetone for the pain?" Alex quietly asks but Michael shakes his head.

"It'll pass. Give it a minute."

Hesitantly Alex reaches for it and let's the tips of his fingertips rest ever so lightly on the ridges of the scarred skin that Michael barely feels as Alex traces it. Michael lifts his hand up to feel the pressure and warmth of Alex’s hand but Alex snatches it away.

“Doesn’t it-” Alex's voice was quiet and a bit hoarse. “I don’t want you to hurt. I was trying to-” He stops himself again with his words stuck as old guilt starts to consume him.

Sighing Michael sits up but keeps his hands to himself.

“You think we’re ready to talk about this?” He waves his left hand between them.

He gives Alex a good minute to breathe through what he’s feeling right now before slowly inching his right hand to the thigh resting next to his.

“I am but that’s cause I made peace with it a long time ago. If you’re not then we can put it on hold for another time but you didn’t do this to me, you’re not a monster or violent like him. I’m not gonna lie, it reminds me that there’s bad in the world, that it’s cruel and doesn’t care but,” His hand has traveled up and cups Alex’s cheek. “It also reminds me that there are kind people like you who somehow left me a medical kit even though I didn’t see you for a week because you were hurt too. That wanted me to get help and go to the hospital but found an alternative when I kept telling you no.”

Alex’s eyes fall closed as he leans into Michael’s hand.

“You’re lucky your antibodies are immune to human infection and diseases.” Is the only thing he can say.

“Pretty nice that my form of power boost is just 5 bucks a bottle too, though my personal brew is much better.” Michael raises his left and holds it in front of Alex. “You didn’t need to go and make us a matching set but of course you had to one-up me.”

All he gets is a soft noise from Alex who’s finally reached for his left hand, both of his cradling Michael’s like it’s precious as he brings it to his chest to lay right over his heart. The steady thump is a song he’s missed.

“You could’ve healed it but you didn’t want to. You wanted to remember the good and the bad.”

Michael snorts at that. “I mean Max only offered like once but it also would’ve become a thing if people found out. Even though I didn’t know how much your dad was actually watching us, I didn’t want to give him anymore reasons to start snooping around. Hey you think he knew before and that’s why he went psycho?"

He asks it like an actual question, one of pure curiosity because now with everything they know it might actually be true.

"Maybe but I knew regardless he'd do something to anyone I brought home. Sure it was like an open secret but I tamed it down around him, the eyeliner and punk was just the easiest way to be proud but on just the edge. It helped that he hated both."

Michael watches as Alex's face pinches again.

"Would you heal it now or like a partial one?"

Smiling Michael just rubs his thumb against Alex's chest.

"Don't know. Depends really."

He pulls Alex back down and holds him close, soaking up as much comfort and the feeling of safety, love, and peace.

Of course not 10 minutes later there's a honk and a mental nudge from Isobel.

"Nooooo." He groans and buries his face in Alex's hair.

Alex agrees and presses closer as their phones start ringing.

"How is she calling both of us!"

There's a knock at the door then the sound of intentionally loud footsteps that stop at the window of their room.

"I promised lunch."

"We could be having really kinky sex right now Iz."

"Oh that reminds me I need to find a new playmate. Alex we're going to a gay bar. I want to see if me going all obsessed over Rosa was a me thing or his and I need a wingman who gets me."

Michael makes a face and holds onto Alex tighter. He doesn’t want Alex going to any bar without him.

"In my professional opinion it might be too soon and you're technically still married but screw it let’s go have fun." Alex pauses and reconsiders his words. “Actually if anything Kyle might be more game then me. I may be out and proud but I kinda dislike people… and crowds now.”  

He gives Michael a deep but short kiss and starts to wiggle free. Michael makes a valiant attempt to keep him in bed which is funny because earlier he was trying to head out for work and be responsible. He flips them over and tries to distract Alex with more kisses and he can feel Alex starting to give in when Isobel knocks on the window.

"We still game to blow up stuff or was that just the land around the cabin? Also will someone please let me in!"

They both groan and finally scramble out of bed to put pants on. Michael turns to face where the front door is and glares at it until it opens.

“It’s open.”

“Lovely. I’ll bring my stuff in.”

Michael slips down to slide on the sleeve then prosthetic for Alex before waddling closer to wrap his arms around Alex’s waist so he can bury his face in a very warm stomach.

“No bar without me. Someone’ll snatch you up.”

The vibrations and sound of Alex’s quiet laugh is nice.

“I was being honest about not really liking bars Michael and I'm only a tiny bit better about people. Have no fear everyone will be flocking to your sister.”

Silently Michael stands before climbing into Alex’s lap and latches onto him like a koala.

“Jesus I forgot how clingy you are.” Alex teases as his hands settle on Michaels sides. “Not that I mind.” He adds.

Leaning back to face each other, Michael gives him a dramatic pout. “You’re hot stuff and people will absolutely flock to you. I can’t stop people from looking but I can at least stop them from touching.” He eyes Alex’s neck hungrily and starts to lean down but a hand in his hair stops him.

“Ah and the marking thing. You sure you’re not a vampire?”

“It won’t be like-”

The unamused look Alex is sporting just makes Michael grin smugly. “You made it go around my whole neck. You gave me an actual hickey necklace Michael and it lasted for a whole week. No hickey necklace.”

“What about like two where everyone can see?” Michael questions and his eyes stare at the perfect spot. “I’ll keep them small.”

They roll over with Alex keeping him pinned down.

“You and I have a very different idea of what small is. No hickeys or marks until we go on another date.” He kisses Michael’s cheek before rolling off and leaving to go see what Isobel’s up to.

Michael mopes and gets dressed slowly. If the hoodie he has on is unusual for him well it’s Alex’s fault for leaving it in the room. In the closet and folded up top but Michael found it so finders-keepers.

“Michael you're staying 20 minutes so you can praise me while I break stuff with my mind." Isobel eyes the sweater and frowns. "Are you having a mental breakdown? That's the only time we wear hoodies." She comments and takes a step closer, ready to bring Michael into a hug for comfort which kinda confuses him.

"Um no. I'm good Iz. Just claiming one of my rights to wear something of Alex's." Michael pauses before taking his own step forward in concern. "Are you good? I know I haven't fully been there for you with everything but if you-"

Isobel rolls her eyes at him.

"I'm a big girl. It's been…. A lot but Alex and the others have helped in their own way. I do know breaking all this stuff will feel good so come on teach me how you do it." She says as she pats his shoulder then heads to Alex's backyard, Michael quickly following her.

"You're sure?" He asks. "I know we all have a tendency to avoid actually talking about our shit so if there's anything you want to then I'm here."

The tight line of Isobel's lips hold for a few seconds before dropping as she sighs.

"I'm still mad and hurt. Also sad because I- this whole mess started with him and I was just a tool he used. I was finally starting to feel like I could be myself but even that's a lie. First it was thinking I was the one who killed everyone and that sucked but finding out the actual truth was worse." Her voice wobbles a bit before she takes a deep breath to steady it. "I know I'm not okay and we're all dealing with our own shit but for once I don't feel totally alone. I'm gonna try and be a better sister to you because you've always been there for me Michael, you carried what happened that night with you for a decade so I wouldn't have too. I've let myself follow whatever Max decided because we got to grow up together and I thought he was right, that he was protecting us and the normal life we had."

She swallows and her eyes dart away.

"And he was but that meant you were left out because you never got our type of normal. So I'm gonna work on being there for you too and making sure you're included. Now let's go break stuff."

Michael grabs onto her hand and squeezes it. Isobel squeezes back and both their eyes are a bit misty but the smiles they wear are bright.

They see Alex a couple yards out, placing items from the box Isobel brought around his open backyard.

“Whatever you break you also clean up so I would suggest a tarp or something.”

Michael swaggers over and latches onto his side, nuzzling into his neck.

"Of course gotta keep the place clean. I'll go grab one." He leans to take a sip from Alex's milkshakes but it's moved away.

"You hate mint."

Michael blinks at him and can't help how big his smile turns.

"I don't mind it when it's from you." His eyes land on Alex's lips in an obvious request.

Michael's curls slap him in the face.

"Ow Iz why!"

"What? I'm just practicing my power." Her sickly sweet voice and eyelashes fluttering says anything but.

Michael rolls his eyes and pecks Alex's check. "You get thirty minutes and then I have to head to Sanders."

A hand slides into the back pocket of his jeans and he's pulled closer to Alex's side.

"Whatever you don't break or wanna leave to burn will be our bonding time."

Isobel's eyes light up at the offer.

"You really weren't lying about getting to explode shit! Like actual explosives?" She grabs onto Alex slowly and starts tugging him back to the house so he can show her.

Michael doesn't let go and they all walk back inside relatively easy for the three of them latched onto each other.

"More like I have the basic materials needed to make bombs which you would be surprised on how easy they are to make." Alex comments as Michael gives an understanding nod.

"Though I do have some minor explosives that are probably closer to fireworks which are easier to clean up after and that can easily be stated as such."

Alex slips out of their arms and goes to the small closet hidden behind the bathroom, the three of them bring all the goods to the living room.

"Does this mean I can use you as an excuse to come here instead of my mother's Fourth of July barbeque? I'm always stuck talking about nothing and everyone keeps expecting me to be pregnant. Do I look like mother material to you?"

She's settled in Michael's lap as they hold each other comfortably. Michael rests his head on her shoulder as he chuckles.

"Hmmm you're more Aunt material. You'd spoil my future kids rotten but also make sure they know how to talk circles around people the second they learn how."

"Their first words will be aunt Izzy or some variation of that. I'm not picky."

Her tone is casual but her eyes don't leave Alex who's gone quiet.

"I'm not saying a hard no to possibly being a surrogate but in a few years ask me again. I'll be back, just need to use the bathroom." She glides off of Michael's lap and out the door.

Michael doesn't pay her any mind and flops back to lay back on the bed.

The thought of having kids have been an off and on thing for him. Sometimes he doesn't because he's not even human and not the stablest person, being in the system didn't do him any favors. There's so much entailed with it that if he ever did he's worried the poor kid will turn out worse than him, that Michael won't have or be able to provide what they'll need. Then there are days he'd love to be that parent for someone who needs it, to be who he needed as a kid. Save at least one kid from a bad situation. Have the type of family he's sometimes let himself dream and barely hope for.

Sometimes it's just him raising a kid alone but other times Alex is there too, both of them sharing the love they have with someone else who might need it. Alex would never be like his father and would give their kid everything they needed no matter what but also make sure they have boundaries and morals and good life lessons.

"Would you want kids Alex?"

Michael voices once he's brought back to the present.

Just because he wants kids doesn't mean he needs them. He knows better than anyone that you gotta be committed and ready for that type of responsibility.

There's always the future but for right now he just wants to get his mom and people free, to deal with Noah, and to be with Alex.

"In another life… yes but I'm not sure about this one." Alex gets this nervous look on his face before sighing. "I'd have to think about it."

That's pretty much on par what Michael knew he'd say.

"Do you- I mean obviously you do but I'm not-"

Michael uses his powers to tug Alex to him. He takes Alex's hands and gives a light squeeze.

"I do but not now or for a while. I want to get my mom out and deal with the insanity of our lives first then enjoy being with you. I would like them in the far far future but I don't need them. I'm not letting some punk take all your attention until I've gotten my fill."

Alex clings to him and nods.

"Okay."

"As of now I love you and my meddling sister. You can come back in Isobel."

She walks in stubbornly with her head held high.

"I didn't mean to bring up future kids. You did that all on your own Michael and I'm sure you'll both be amazing uncles when Max and Liz figure their shit out. Max will finally have a reason to quit the force and stay at home to write like he's always wanted while Liz works on saving the world and all that jazz."

She grabs all the explosives quickly and carefully to do something with her hands.

“I mean who wouldn’t want an adorable hybrid of me though right, the world would all but perish under our reign. I’m sure i’d be a good mom though… with time and everyone else’s kids as a trial but like you guys said, now is a horrible time.” Her voice lowers to something almost hushed. “I’m sure plenty of kids need a home once i’m ready so all we need to do now is learn and be as prepared as possible.”

Michael smiles fondly at her as he stands and wraps an arm around her waist, pressing his forehead to the side of her neck.

“There’d be nothing stopping you once you decide your ready Isobel.”

Alex leans into her other side and they all just take a moment to breathe together.

“When we’re ready.” Alex voices with hope and it brings a smile to all their faces. “Does that mean we’re ready to go blow stuff up now?”

That gets a laugh.

“Come on all this emotional talk is ruining the mood. I’m ready to see how much control I need to learn to beat Michael!”

The three proceed to smash, break, and explode the contents of Isobel's boxes while enjoying their lunch.

Isobel is a bit shocked and proud of how much control Michael has on his power. A bit jealous too but she’s only just started. She finds it sickeningly sweet how awed Alex looks when he looks at Michael but the kind one he gives her makes up for it.

“How did I not see it?” She asks them. Her tone is light with wonder. That she never saw how much love just poured from them. It’s been a decade and she’s only finding out now.

Both Alex and Michael sigh but there’s less of a haunted look in their eyes.

“Shit timing and even worse communication.” Michael voices and then he’s at Alex’s side. “It’s hard to have something when everything’s going against you.”

Alex nods with his face set in a hard look before it clears.

“We kept it to ourselves cause it was safer but now there’s less bullshit to fight against.”

Isobel hurts from even the idea of what they’ve been through, the flashes she’s gotten from Alex flickering before she lets it all go.

“Well you’ve got someone else on your side.” she stands tall again, stronger and more solid with this certain topic worked through. "I'd happily melt anyone who's brain keeps giving you guys trouble. I'm sure I can make it look like an aneurysm."

She’s trying to be reassuring but the pained and overwhelmed look on Michael's face makes her feel unsure, like she's miss stepped somewhere.

It's only when Michael launches at her and holds her in a crushing hug, that his mind is so loud it's screaming at her by being in contact, that she understands.

Michael's always been so strong and never truly had anyone who he felt he could rely on, to truly rely on. Alex probably now with everything known but not really anyone else and that hurts Isobel all over again.

They should've been united from the start. They should've been together, able to rely and trust each other without doubt.

She holds on tight to him and lets out a sigh when Michael’s mind quiets, Alex’s presence closer being the obvious reason why.

Isobel is going to have a talk with Max about Alex and about Michael. Alex is right that they need to all work together to figure this mess out.

[fascinatedhelix]

Some updates to the HK/NSR crossover AU, since the original was made pre-release (the following does contain spoilers!):

Ghost

Ran away from the Trankil Adoption Agency due to finding most humans too restrictive on their freedom; they’re accustomed to being able to come and go as they please, and the agency doesn’t really approve of trankil running around unattended. BBJ are more relaxed about it, leading to the little one being along the lines of a latchkey trankil.

Mayday and Zuke earn their trust by buying them food and helping them clean up in the restaurant’s bathroom, rather than just grabbing them and dragging them back to the agency. Aunty, for one, adores them, due to their sweet little face and how eagerly they eat her cooking.

Has pulled a knife on Kliff, multiple times, because he’s creepy as hell and sets off all their alarms, much to the exasperation of Zuke and Mayday. He tries bribing them with toys and snacks up until his betrayal, after which he almost gets stabbed again before BBJ drag Ghost with them to stop the fans.

Zuke doesn’t let them draw their blade in the sewer or on the streets, normally, but he doesn’t necessarily ban them from sharps entirely. He can tell they know how to use them, though he opts to let them use a kitchen knife instead of the haphazard scrap of metal they’ve been swinging around on the streets.

Zam has attempted to conduct interviews with Ghost before, but finds himself mostly just perplexed at their answers. "Okay, I’m looking at what appear to be, uh, hieroglyphics of some kind. I can see something that kind of looks like a rhinoceros beetle head... They’re shaking their head ‘no.’” The little section where he interviews them is nicknamed Ghost Tour.

Comet

They were sleeping in DJ Subatomic Supernova’s apartment at the time of the battle, since he didn’t think he’d need their help. They’re too small to be asked for a whole lot, anyway; he mostly has them around to keep himself company and have someone to talk to (or at, as the case may be).

Their sound energy absorbing powers would probably be enough to deactivate some of NSR’s robots; it comes in handy when the rogue robots are getting in the way of reinstating their guardian as charter.

Their favorite stuffed animal is a toy dolphin that DJSS calls Delphinus, though Comet calls them Splashy when they learn how to write.

As they grow older, their horns begin pointing backward and eventually curling into a similar shape to ram’s horns.

DJSS secretly relishes in the opportunity to have a legacy in the form of taking care of Comet, though he doesn’t know that they are probably more likely to carry his name farther into the future than any drones he sends up to space.

Bunny

They live with Remi, the artist and leader of the Sayu team. He treats them much like a little sibling, in the nice way, and gets them to watch some of the more family-friendly anime he watches; they’re particularly fond of Sailor Moon and Dragon Ball Z, even if they keep dismantling the figures he gets them. They’re much gentler with the plushies, though.

It takes a few weeks of watching Dodo and Sofa work on machinery to get them learning how to build stuff as well as break it. They make it an entire thing when they grow older, working on machinery.

They eventually grow cheek spines, not unlike some depictions of the adult Ghost, and otherwise heavily resemble Hornet as an adult. Much taller than her, though.

Sayu’s kind of reluctant to attack Ghost because they resemble Bunny so much; “You’re too cute to fight!” Zuke doesn’t like the idea of Ghost acting like a trankil shield in fights, but it does help throw off her aim.

Thorn

Yinu’s mom specifically chose the former Broken Vessel because they were the only trankil that expressed any interest in Yinu’s infodumping about classical music. They even responded to questions with head shaking or nodding.

They come to Yinu’s side after her piano breaks, letting go of their fight with Ghost quickly enough; they don’t fault their sibling for doing what they thought was right, even if they don’t understand it, but they believed Yinu needed their support more.

They’re taking violin lessons, as it’s a touch easier to adjust to playing with four fingers on that then on piano. They get pretty good at it as an adult, though in the modern day their playing is a touch mediocre.

After their performance at Yinu’s concert, fighting in her defense with a stolen machete, Yinu’s mom at first grounds Thorn for stealing and playing with sharps, but concedes to put them in a fencing program to “get it out of their system.” They turn out a lot more competent than the instructors were expecting, and intimidate the crap out of their peers. When they’re older they take up a proper swordfighting class.

Yinu does wind up joining them in learning fencing, after her mother gets a recommendation to get her to get more exercise to avoid literally rooting herself to her piano (not an unusual issue for plant folks; they have to move pretty regularly or else they get stuck in one spot and have to be cut out). Her mom worries that she takes to it a touch too eagerly, perhaps because of her relative helplessness.

Thorn acts fairly stoic and polite most of the time, but they can be quite the handful when something piques their interest. They get banned from at least one Renaissance fair due to playing with the swords or poking the roasting pig. Yinu starts covering for them after they start bribing her with extra sweets.

Scotty

Neon J initially treated them like a trainee when he got them, but it quickly slipped into adopted child territory when he realized just how young they were. He did want kids back when he was human, so he took very quickly to the role of adoptive father.

Scotty is very good at learning language and patterns, so they wind up learning English writing pretty quickly for one of their kind. Because of this, Neon J becomes one of the few privy to the nature of the vessels, though he is uncharacteristically quiet about it.

1010 adores Scotty, occasionally posting about them on social media, making them a bit of a fandom darling, though the band does have to put out PSAs about not getting a trankil irresponsibly.

Scotty’s favorite food is cheese tarts and cheese danishes, which they tend to be awarded for good behavior.

Scotty is a very active child; they dance, they run around the mansion, they swim in the pool (and just about any fountain they run across, much to Neon J’s embarrassment), and they can’t be brought within 100 feet of a dog park without trying to pet every animal in the vicinity.

They try their best to comfort their adoptive dad when he’s suffering from phantom pains or flashbacks, though they don’t know the techniques very well. Their usual method is gently patting his hand or leaning against him (among vessels they’d be leaning against each other in large groups, leading to one big cuddle pile; they can’t do it here by themselves, but they’ll sure as hell try).

Much to Neon J’s embarrassment, they become quite the potty mouth (er, hands) when they get older. He’s a sailor, he slips up every now and then!

Riley

The former Greenpath Vessel is rather happy to leave behind the harsh life they lived back in Hallownest, though they find the most success in recounting their old life through art.

Eve tends to be a very dramatic teacher, but quite gentle with her little friend. She couldn’t have asked for a more enthusiastic student, though.

Eve’s quite protective of the little thing; she’s not quite as heartbroken about Zuke’s abandonment due to the company of her apprentice/adopted child, but the thought of them being taken away tends to scare her quite a bit. As such, she tends to spoil them rotten, though they’re still quite sweet.

Riley has a degree of PTSD from their experience in Hallownest; they’re very sensitive to sounds and movement in their peripheral, and have bitten and scratched people on more than one occasion for getting in their bubble without proper warning or consent. Eve’s pretty good about avoiding their blindspot and having her footsteps make noise they can track.

Eve’s among the first to learn about the Lord of Shades and the dream realm due to her teaching her magic painting to Riley. With her help, they created the Dark Mirror, which allows people to enter a sort of waking simulation of the dream realm, though it tends to seriously disorient people not accustomed to messing with reality (musicians tend to do fine, but normal folks? Not so much). It becomes a very useful communication tool when discussing Hallownest and how it functioned.

Sterling

The former Hollow Knight views themselves as deeply indebted to Tatiana, though also viewing her as a friend. She gave them a name, a new purpose, and an opportunity to live again without the constraints of their failed duty; of course they’re going to feel kind of guilty about it.

Only the NSR artists and a few select NSR personnel have seen them in person, and the first thing people tend to notice is their sheer size. Tatiana worries how much renovations will have to be done to accommodate the rest of their kin once they grow up, if they wind up matching their eldest sibling.

They tend to have a reasonably positive relationship with the artists, due to their kindness towards the vessels and generally respectful attitude towards the behemoth of a trankil.  DJSS tends to rant about space in their general direction as his idea of small talk, and they tolerate it. He also not so subtly squees when he sees Comet interacting with their elder sibling. Sayu’s team thinks they’re anime hero levels of cool, sword and all, and Bunny tends to agree, trying to challenge them to fight. Yinu’s mom tends to scrutinize them as reference for Thorn’s later growth, though Yinu herself and Thorn tend to climb the adult trankil like a tree for fun. Neon J respects them deeply as a knight and technical prince, though Scotty’s pretty content to try and get them to play when they visit. Eve appreciates their good manners and willingness to listen, and Riley rather likes showing them their drawings.

Tatiana tends to treat Sterling as something of a confidante, due to their quiet nature and strong sense of loyalty. She worries they idolize her a touch too much to be healthy, but knowing what she does about their past, she’s not sure if a human therapist would help.

The wings grew in a couple weeks before the Rock Revolution; evidently they hadn’t developed quite enough to develop them before they had been sealed, leading to serious back troubles during their fight before their rebirth. It was a pretty chaotic affair helping them through their last molt, considering the other trankil who’ve been molting had a lot less to shed.

Tatiana tends to scold Sterling for digging through her old rock cassettes, though she comes to regret it after the whole debacle with BBJ.

Sterling’s way more ruthless than Tatiana asks for or is fully aware of; they tend to take threats to their new life, siblings, and new companions very, very seriously, and god help the poor soul who convinces them to act. Kliff doesn’t last long after the Rock Revolution, because of this, not that anyone notices.

Misc

The vessels were united under the leadership of Ghost to create the Lord of Shades, and upon killing and absorbing the Radiance, they’ve essentially become the collective gods of the Dream Realm as well as the Void and probably Death too. The level of focus and cooperation needed to fully activate these powers is incredibly high, especially after the vessels begin developing individual personalities, so there won’t be any casual appearances of the Shade Lord any time soon.

Vessels don’t need to eat to grow for the first five or six years of their life, as they have a lot of soul energy stored in their bodies from birth to facilitate growth in the Abyss (their “yolk”), but once that’s expended they won’t grow any more until they gain a stable food source and a safe environment to molt, hence why Ghost spent such a long time being so small, despite being the same age as Sterling. While not eating won’t kill them, humans don’t know that.

The average height for an adult vessel is 8 feet, from the bottom of their feet to base of their horns, whereas a newly hatched vessel (like Comet) is about the size of a tennis ball curled up.

People who aren’t accustomed to the otherworldly presence of the trankil tend to freak out when they’re nearby; the sheer emptiness of their eyes, the expressionless faces, the inhuman size and proportions all give anybody not used to it the heebie-jeebies. Of course, Vinyl City locals stopped caring pretty shortly after they first got the trankil.

[arrantsnowdrop]

Early Morning Mayhem - Poe Dameron x reader (fluff)

Warnings: some mentions of anxiety, other than that it's pretty fluffy, 2,735 words

A/N: This was not requested but I've had this idea since I watched TROS (which was literally months ago at this point). I haven't written for the Star Wars fandom before but I'd love to write some stuff for characters from any of the three trilogies, Rogue 1, or the several tv series-es! Request away if you have any ideas/concepts I could make into some oneshots, and enjoy this fun little Poe fic :)

When Snap Wexley joined the Resistance, he begged you to come with him. You had been neighbors since you were children growing up on Akiva, and were nearly inseparable by the time you were five. When you were ten, Nora Wexley taught you both how to fly, and when you were twelve, you helped him cope with her sudden departure. You collected scrap metal and spare parts for him to sell when he opened his small business, and when his mother finally returned, you kept the shop open while he helped her hunt down Imperial fugitives.

You were blatantly displeased when he told you he’d been recruited as a fighter pilot, and rightfully so. The last thing you wanted was for your best friend to get blown up into a million tiny pieces. Naturally, your concerns sparked a heated debate about the soundness of his decision:

“I’m just worried, that’s all,” you said exasperatedly.

“(Y/n), I’m literally the best pilot you know,” Snap joked. You rolled your eyes.

“The First Order isn’t going to give a damn about how great you are while they’re trying to kill you!” A pause. “I just don’t want you to get hurt, Snap. I wouldn’t be able to deal with it if you did,” you said softly.

“So come with me then,” Snap replied instantly. You blinked.

“Excuse me?”

“Come with me, join the Resistance. You’ll be able to know where I am and what I’m doing all the time, so you’ll be less worried,” he stated matter-of-factly.

“Yea, but what will I do?” you asked. “I’m not gonna enlist as a pilot, we both know I can’t fly under pressure.” Snap chuckled and nodded.

“True, but you’re also the best mechanic I know. I’m sure the Resistance is gonna need someone to fix all the X-wings I’m bound to break.”

You laughed quietly, then looked around at the stacks of broken machinery piled high in Snap’s home.

“What about the shop?” you asked.

“(Y/n),” Snap said seriously, “the Resistance is going to support you way more than any profits from this place ever will.” He gestured wildly to the store around him. “This isn’t important. You’d be stupid to stay if you’re thinking about the money.”

You nodded, chewing your bottom lip thoughtfully (a nervous habit). Finally you looked back up at him.

“I’ll do it,” you stated firmly.

“Really?”

“Really.”

When you arrived at the Resistance base on D’Qar, Snap had eagerly introduced you to Goss Toowers, one of the senior starship mechanics for the Resistance’s fleet. Goss had been thrilled you wanted to join the technical crew, and offered you a position as a mechanic right away (“This is so exciting, we love getting new members on tech crew,” he had gushed happily. You couldn’t help but smile).

You found that the Resistance’s fleet of T-70 X-wings were quite similar to the T-65 models you had learned to fly with Snap back home, just with slightly different engines and weapons pods. It didn’t take you long to establish yourself as one of the most skilled mechanics on the tech crew, with the most severely damaged X-wings going directly to your station after battles.

You had to admit, you understood why Snap had been so eager to join the Resistance. You felt like you had become a part of something much bigger and more important than yourself, and you truly enjoyed every moment of your job.

You also enjoyed getting to know the many technicians and pilots you worked with. You’d always been more reserved with people you didn’t know well, but it had only taken you a few days to become close friends with Jess Pava.

Jess had also made it her mission to introduce you to as many of the fighter pilots as she could (“Then you can know whose X-wing you’re fixing,” she’d pointed out). While it was certainly overwhelming at first, you were more than grateful for the new friendships you had formed.

That being said, there were many pilots you had yet to meet, including the famed Poe Dameron.

It wasn't like you didn’t know who he was, everyone knew about Commander Dameron and his seemingly endless list of accomplishments - you’d even performed repairs on his distinct X-wing once or twice . Still, the closest you had gotten to meeting him was when you watched him climb out of his slightly damaged cockpit after a narrow victory over the First Order; he’d disappeared into a sea of celebrating rebels before you’d gotten the chance to say hello.

That’s why it was startling when he ran up to you in the cafeteria in the middle of the night, asking you to fix his ship.

There had been a small skirmish the day before that had escalated into a larger fight, resulting in many casualties. The mechanic team had spent the entire day fixing up the X-wing fleet, which had proved to be quite exhausting. 

By midnight, most of your fellow mechanics had gone to bed, saving the rest of the repairs for the next day. You’d finally decided that your lack of energy was inhibiting your ability to work, so you’d decided to get a few hours of sleep before resuming the repairs.

You were just grabbing a cup of tea on the way to your room when you heard someone frantically yelling your name.

“(Y/n)! (Y/n)!”

You turned around quickly, seeing none other than Poe Dameron sprinting towards you, his well-known orange BB unit following behind him.

You blinked twice in confusion, honestly thinking you were so tired you had begun to hallucinate. No, you concluded, watching as Poe came to a stop in front of you, hunched over slightly and panting to catch his breath; the man in front of you was very real, and seemed very concerned.

“Uh, yes?” you replied slowly, absolutely bewildered as to why a Resistance Commander would be looking for you at two in the morning.

“X-wing, needs repairs,” Poe managed breathlessly, still recovering from his intense running stint. The droid beside him beeped twice in agreement, wobbling quickly from side to side.

“Yea, I’m so sorry I didn’t get to fixing it today, but it’ll definitely be done some time tomorrow-” you started, but Poe quickly cut you off.

“Leia needs me to go on a mission in two hours,” he interrupted, “and with the upper left wing mostly detached, I don’t think I’ll be able to make it out of the hangar, let alone to Onderon.” 

You felt your heart drop, realizing the gravity of the situation. His brows furrowed, seeming to sense your nervousness.

“Hey, you okay?” he asked, concern laced in his voice. “You just got super pale.”

“Yea, yea I’m fine,” you reassured softly, though he did not seem convinced. “I’ll, uh, I’ll go and fix it up right now.”

You bit your lip as you turned to go, realizing it was going to be nearly impossible to fix his ship in two hours. The wing wasn’t the only thing that was damaged - Goss had said something about a problem with both the engine and the flight computer. While you were definitely capable of fixing them, you knew it was going to take a significant amount of time, and you were already so tired.

“Wait, (Y/n),” Poe said, grabbing your arm and gently turning you back to face him. You blushed, immediately moving out of his grip. If Poe noticed he didn’t say anything.

“BB-8 and I can help you if you want, I know I fucked up my ship pretty bad,” he chuckled bashfully, rubbing the back of his neck. You smiled a little and nodded.

“Yea, you definitely did,” you joked softly. Poe smiled, and you blushed again, looking down at the floor. “Um, if you’d like to help I’d appreciate that very much.”

“Alright then, off to the hangar!” he exclaimed, jogging out of the hangar and taking off down the hall.

“Does he run everywhere?” you asked BB-8, who beeped a quick ‘yes’ before rushing out of the room to follow Poe.

~~~~~

An hour later, you’d managed to reattach the wing and had started to rewire the flight computer. It seemed like enemy fire had severed the connection between the computer and the rest of the ship, so you’d have to reconnect it before doing anything else.

Poe had been working on the damaged part of the left split-engine. The upper engine had been damaged along with the wing - nothing too serious, and Poe had assured you that he’d done similar repairs many times before.

“I think the engine is all set,” he called. You looked over your shoulder to where he was straddling the engine, mindlessly tossing a wrench he’d borrowed from you between his hands.

“Do you want me to check it?” you asked from where you were perched on the front part of the ship. He looked up at you and nodded, groaning as the wrench he’d been playing with dropped to the floor.

You laughed and jumped onto the ground, picking the metal tool up off the ground on your way over to him. You peered into the engine, carefully inspecting his work.

“Looks great!” you smiled as you looked up at him, setting the metal tool down next to him.

“Thank you very much, miss mechanic,” he replied with a grin. You rolled your eyes as he picked the wrench up and began to toss it again - Jess was right, Poe Dameron truly was a five year old trapped in a thirty-two year old’s body.

You stretched your arms over your head and sighed. You were still very tired, but Poe’s relentless chatter had woken you up somewhat.

“How’s the computer looking?” he asked.

“Alright,” you replied, climbing up the ladder you’d set against the ship earlier. “I’m almost done reconnecting the computer system to the ship, and then I have to turn it on and see if I need to reprogram anything.”

“Sounds very technical,” Poe said thoughtfully. You laughed and nodded, picking up a stray black wire and beginning to feed it into its designated port.

“This part is mostly just putting the right wires in the right spot, so not super complicated,” you said. “It’s basically a puzzle.”

“Well, it looks pretty complicated to me,” Poe said, hopping down from the top of the engine to put the wrench back in your toolbox. You grinned as you snapped the final wire into place.

“BB-8, can you turn the ship on?” you called to the small droid sitting in the astromech socket. BB-8 chirped happily, and after a few seconds you felt the X-wing rumble to life. From where you were sitting, you could see the panels in the cockpit begin to light up.

“The flight computer is officially reconnected,” you stated, getting up and doing a small happy dance as you walked over to the cockpit.

Poe laughed as you hopped in, squinting at the dashboard in front of you.

“Can you hand me the little red case in my toolbox?” you asked Poe.

“Yes ma’am,” he said, saluting you jokingly as he grabbed the toolbox and reached up into the cockpit to hand it to you.

You mumbled a thank you and grabbed the case, covering your mouth with your free hand as you stifled a yawn. 

“You tired?” he asked, folding his arms across the edge of the cockpit and using his hand to prop his head up.

You nodded, opening the case and grabbing a thin metal rod. Some of the lights on the dash were flickering, and a few hadn’t turned on at all. You figured some of the integrated circuits inside the dashboard had come loose during the fighting.

“I’ve been up since five,” you said, pressing a button on the dashboard and removing the control panel.

“In the afternoon?” Poe said, grabbing hold of the control panel as you passed it to him.

“This morning,” you clarified, reaching into the now exposed circuit board of the ship. You grinned, your theory having been right, and used the metal rod to jostle some of the computer chips back into place.

“So you’ve been working all day then?” Poe asked. You nodded, looking back at him and frowning at the guilty look on his face.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, taking the dashboard back into your own hands.

“I’m so sorry for asking you to do this,” he groaned, covering his face with his hands. “I should’ve asked Goss or someone else.”

“Poe, it’s fine,” you said reassuringly, sliding the panel back into place.

“No, it’s not,” he said bluntly. “I bet you were going back to your room when I found you, right?”

You bit your lip and nodded slowly, grimacing as Poe cursed and jumped back onto the ground.

“I’m such an asshole!” he groaned.

“Poe, look at me,” you called, waiting until he finally met your gaze to continue talking. “I agreed to do this, remember? This isn’t your fault at all.”

“I still feel bad,” he muttered.

“An all-nighter every once in a while doesn’t do any harm,” you said nonchalantly, sliding out of the cockpit. “And I wasn’t going to sleep much anyways.”

He looked at you softly as you set your tools back down on your work table and wiped your hands on your pants. You looked up at him and grinned, then gestured to his ship.

“She’s ready for flying, Dameron,” you beamed. He chuckled walking over to you and pulling you into a tight hug.

“Thank you so much, (Y/n),” he said, voice slightly muffled by your hair.

“You’re very welcome, Poe,” you replied, relishing in the feeling of his strong arms and chest under his flight suit. “You can ask me to fix your ship anytime.”

“I will definitely take advantage of that,” he said, pulling back and looking down at you. “It always flies better after you fix it.” You gasped, grinning in pleasant surprise.

“You notice when I fix your X-wing?” you asked. He nodded.

“Of course I do, half the time I make sure it goes directly to you after I get back from skirmishes and the like,” he added. You bit your lip and looked down at your feet.

“I didn’t know you knew who I was,” you admitted softly. He laughed, using his hand to tilt your head back up. You blushed, a little lost in his dark brown eyes.

“(Y/n), everyone knows who you are, you’re like the best mechanic in the Resistance,” he said genuinely. You smiled bashfully at his compliment.

“Thank you,” you said softly. He nodded and stepped back, grabbing his helmet from the table next to you.

“Well, duty calls,” he said, a grin on his face as he put his helmet on. You giggled.

“Be safe,” you said.

“Anything for my favorite mechanic,” he replied with a wink. You blushed again and looked down at your shoes.

“You ready, bud?” Poe called to BB-8, who beeped excitedly. He laughed and climbed into the cockpit, looking back at you before he shut it.

“Would you like to go out for dinner when I get back?” he asked, a smile on his face. You grinned, setting your hand on your hip.

“Are you asking me on a date, Dameron?” you asked. He bit his lip and nodded.

“I do believe I am.”

“Well,” you replied, “if you don’t unintentionally snap another wing off your X-wing, I’ll most definitely be available.” Poe laughed.

“See you tonight then!” he called as he closed the cockpit.

You backed up and waved as he made his way out of the hangar and onto the runway outside. You were still grinning as he took off, and you didn’t stop watching him until his ship was just a speck against the dark sky.

Two hours ago, you were sitting in the cafeteria with your cup of tea, and now you had been invited to dinner by the Poe Dameron, who apparently both knew who you were and admired your work. It was a lot to take in.

You grabbed your toolbox and headed over to the next ship awaiting repairs; you still had a lot of work to finish if you wanted to sneak in a nap before going on a date with the best pilot in the Resistance.

[carewyncromwell]

[HPHM Ficlet] For a Smile, They Can Share the Night

Inspired by this post by @hogwartscursebreaker​! This is set at the beginning of year 6 and features a piece of mediocre art by yours truly at the end, under the cut. I mean, come on, how could I not take the opportunity to draw my ghost boy? 

Hope you enjoy! <3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been a very, very long day at Hogwarts. With the advent of the Statue Curse, Carewyn knew it was more important than ever to find the last Cursed Vault as soon as possible. In the midst of that development, though, Fred and George had mentioned spotting her brother, Jacob Cromwell, near the Forbidden Forest -- once they’d gotten back to school, Carewyn resolved to follow up with Filch about it first thing the following morning.

‘If Jacob’s here, he might already have a lead about the Vault,’ she thought. ‘Then we can break the curse together...and end this whole thing, once and for all...’

She exhaled heavily. After running around the school all day and sharing the same space with two separate Dungbombs, she knew a nice bath was in order. So after dinner, Carewyn changed into her black and teal swimsuit in the girl’s dorm, put her uniform and skirt on top of it, and headed up to the Prefect’s Bathroom.

‘I was thinking of checking in on Duncan, anyway,’ thought Carewyn ‘though not under these circumstances...’

What circumstances she would’ve chosen instead, however, she honestly wasn’t sure. Carewyn had been able to use bringing food she’d made as an excuse to visit her friend Torvus, but with Duncan, she was at a loss. She couldn’t ask him to join her for a sandwich in the Great Hall or bring him any sort of gift, like a new book or food dish -- what would a ghost do with any of those things? Carewyn honestly wasn’t even sure if ghosts could really touch anything -- Peeves could, of course, but poltergeists were never alive to begin with, so they no doubt had different rules than ghosts.

With a quiet sigh through her nose, Carewyn pushed the door of the Prefects’ Bathroom open. To her relief, it was abandoned.

Her voice echoed slightly off of the tiled walls as she called,

“Duncan?”

There was no answer.

Carewyn closed the door behind her, heading over to the bathroom stalls. She peeked inside the one she’d last seen Duncan pop out of.

“Duncan?”

But he wasn’t there. 

Feeling a pang of disappointment, Carewyn exhaled heavily, before quickly stripping off her collared shirt, skirt, socks, and shoes. Once she was just in her swimsuit again, she folded her clothes and placed them and her shoes in a neat pile in front of one of the sinks. Then she snatched up a stack of fluffy white towels and headed to the giant, empty bathtub.

It took a few minutes to fill the pool-like tub with water, baby blue bubbles, and lavender bath salts. Fortunately when Carewyn turned off the faucets and finally lowered herself little by little into the warm bath, it was just the right temperature.

The Slytherin Prefect gave a loud, relaxed sigh. She bobbed up and down in the water for a moment, enjoying the heat rippling over her sour muscles, before completely submerging herself in the bubble bath. The moonlight from the surrounding windows created pretty, translucent spotlights on the marble-tiled floor.

Carewyn came up for air, brushing her wet ginger hair out of her eyes.

It’d been a while since she’d really pampered herself. Admittedly, she would’ve preferred to just not sweat like crazy or get any Dungbomb stink on her, but she supposed if she had to, at least she had a nice place to go afterwards.

“Da da da-da-da-da, da da da-da-da-da...”

Carewyn hummed absently under her breath as she swam over to the faucet and fetched some shampoo for her hair. She lathered it into her scalp, singing absently to herself.

“Just a small town girl...livin’ in a lonely woooorld~...she took the midnight train going anywhere...”

The Slytherin Prefect dipped her head under the water again to wash the shampoo out of her hair. As she came up again, she gave a start at what she heard.

“Just a city boy...born and raised in south Detroit...”

Another voice -- a male one -- was echoing out of the pipe Carewyn had just fetched her shampoo from.

Carewyn gave a start, splashing water and blue bubbles in surprise.

“Duncan!?”

Sure enough, a second later, streaking out from one of the pipes was a sliver of blueish white mist that turned out to be a laughing Duncan Ashe.

“Merlin’s beard -- you should’ve seen your face just now! You looked...well, like you’d seen a ghost!”

He laughed even harder.

Carewyn brushed her wet bangs out of her eyes, frowning reproachfully.

“Well, you startled me! What were you doing in there anyway? Aren’t you usually in the stalls?”

Duncan crossed his arms, his eyebrows raising dully. “I’m not Moaning Myrtle -- I didn’t just decide to haunt one bloody toilet the rest of my...well...not life, but you know.”

Carewyn eased herself up in the tub, leaning her back and arms against the side of the tub.

“...Well, I’m glad you showed up,” she said dryly, “however rude your entrance was. I was hoping I’d catch you.”

Duncan leaned backward so that he was hovering on his back in mid-air, his arms under his head, as he looked down at Carewyn.

“Oh, really? What is it this time? Got to convince Peeves to give you his bell hat next? Or do you just need help dealing with the Cursed Vaults again?”

Carewyn shook her head. “No. I just thought it’d be good to see you.”

This clearly took Duncan aback. He stared down at Carewyn, his expression losing all hint of humor or cynicism and his mouth hanging open slightly.

“...Oh. I -- I see. Um...”

His translucent cheeks started to darken with a flush as he looked away in embarrassment.

Carewyn’s eyes softened slightly.

She’d sort of expected Duncan might feel that way -- like she only came to see him because she wanted something. It was part of the reason why she’d gone out of her way to visit Pitts and Torvus, so that neither of them ever felt like they were just tools to her. Carewyn appreciated them and the help they’d given her too much for that, and she certainly wouldn’t want to feel like someone was just using her, if their positions were switched. She hated feeling like that, whenever Rakepick...

Shoving the memory of the treacherous Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher aside, the red-haired Slytherin swam over to the side of the tub, reaching for the towel on the side so she could wring some water out of her ear.

Duncan watched her out the side of his eye.

“...If you need to get out of the tub, don’t worry about it,” he said lowly. “I won’t perv on you or anything stupid.”

Carewyn blinked, startled.

‘Oh yeah -- I guess under most circumstances, it’s not really cool for a guy to watch a girl bathing, huh?’

“I...didn’t think you would,” she admitted sheepishly. “I mean, I am wearing a swimsuit.”

Duncan snorted. “I know dudes who have fantasized about less visible skin. I haunt the Prefects’ Bathroom, remember?”

“Yeah, but...you’re a ghost,” Carewyn said with a weak laugh. “And I’m your friend’s sister, there...is a slight age gap there...”

“Technically no, given that I died at 17,” said Duncan breezily. “But yes, even if I had been attracted to girls back in the day, it’s not like I can feel anything hormonal without a body.”

Carewyn frowned more deeply as she put down the towel on the side of the tub. “Well, I’m all the more glad it’s just us, then.”

‘How weird would someone have to be, to get all flustered just because they saw a girl in something you can see at any beach in the country?’ she thought disdainfully.

Duncan rolled over in mid-air so that he was now floating on his stomach and rested his head in his hands.

“You really are weird,” he said lowly.

Carewyn cocked an eyebrow at him, a bit miffed, but Duncan for once didn’t smile. His light-less eyes drifted up to the window behind her as he drifted into silence.

“...Do you always sing when no one else is around?” he said abruptly after a long minute.

Carewyn’s irritation ebbed away. She felt herself smiling slightly as she swam up to the window ledge and climbed up onto it, letting her feet dangle off the edge into the warm water.

“I sing all the time.”

Duncan’s eyes softened a bit, even as his lips curled up in a more familiar wry smirk.

“Of course you do,” he said in an oddly hushed voice.

He ignored Carewyn’s curious look, his voice becoming a bit more brusque.

“At least you’ve got better taste in music than your brother. I swear, every time I caught him humming ABBA while he was working without realizing it, I just wanted to turn into a Demiguise and disappear all together...”

Carewyn had to cover her mouth with both hands as she burst out laughing.

“He hummed ABBA? He was always so embarrassed whenever he listened to them at home -- he never, ever wanted me to see him dancing to their songs, he always shut the door of his room -- ”

Duncan grinned mischievously. “He was a right ‘Dancing Queen,’ wasn’t he?”

Carewyn stifled her giggles behind her hands. Once she’d effectively contained her amusement, she gave Duncan a broader smile.

“What music did you like best?”

Duncan’s legs drifted lackadaisically under him as he absently drifted backwards.

“Celestina Warbeck was my first set of records -- they were my mum’s. But your brother got me some Olivia Newton-John for Christmas in first year -- then Don McLean and the Osmonds, after that.”

Carewyn beamed. “Oh, Don McLean’s stuff is lovely. The poetry he uses is just beautiful. Like in Vincent -- morning fields of amber grain...weathered faces, lined in pain...”

“...are soothed beneath the artist’s loving hand,” Duncan finished the line.

His mouth had spread into a broad smile the likes of which Carewyn had never seen before. It made his face look so much younger and more handsome than it ever had previously.

“You’re more of an Elton John lass, though, aren’t you?” he asked.

Carewyn raised her eyebrows.

“I do like Elton John, yeah,” she agreed, slightly confused.

Duncan’s eyes softened as he glanced up toward the ceiling, bringing his hands behind his head, and he crossed his legs so he was sitting on air.

“The first time...I heard anything about you...was when you’d sent your brother a Howler of yourself singing an Elton John song for him.”

Carewyn’s eyebrows knit together as she frowned.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” laughed Duncan. Even his laughter, however, seemed softer than before -- almost nostalgic. “Jacob had said you wanted him to hear this song you’d heard on the radio -- and since electricity doesn’t work here, you decided to sing it for him yourself!”

He laughed again at the memory, more loudly and brightly.

“You sounded like some wee little banshee!”

Carewyn crossed her arms, trying to scowl at Duncan. But despite herself, she found herself unable to. She’d so rarely heard Duncan talk civilly about her brother...and especially not with...such fondness in his eyes...

As Duncan’s laughter slowed, his light-less eyes crinkled up slightly.

“I guess it’s good you’ve improved in that regard, at least.”

Carewyn considered Duncan, incredibly interested despite herself. She rested her arms on top of her knees, leaning forward slightly.

“I didn’t know you knew me, before. I mean, I know you said you knew Jacob had a sister, but...I didn’t think you knew me at all.”

The smile on Duncan’s face seemed to flicker and die as his gaze returned to Carewyn. His blue-tinted eyes, which had been so fond, suddenly looked very haunted.

“...Of course I knew you,” he said softly.

His voice trailed off as he stared at Carewyn. He swallowed, and then turned his back and swept off, looking faintly huffy.

“As if your brother didn’t blab about you, every chance he got -- just like he never shut up about anything...”

Carewyn could tell Duncan was trying to act tough, however. She glanced away, her blue eyes trailing over a cluster of baby blue bubbles in the tub.

“I knew you too, you know,” she said gently.

Duncan’s frame stiffened.

“I remember Jacob got all these letters. He always said they were from someone called ‘Ashe.’ I’d thought at the time it was someone’s first name -- like he had a friend named Ash, or maybe even Ashley. But Jacob never let Mum or me read those letters -- he kind of hoarded them, like they were from a secret lover or something...”

Carewyn smiled slightly despite herself, even though she looked upon Duncan’s back with pity.

“I didn’t make the connection until I heard your name, but...yeah, those letters I remember -- the ones Jacob would send almost every day of summer break -- they all went to you.”

Duncan was very quiet. His head had fallen visibly and his shoulders had slackened -- but even as the minutes dragged by, he didn’t respond. Carewyn wondered if perhaps he didn’t know how.

At last, Carewyn decided that she didn’t want to talk about Jacob anymore. As much as it meant to her, to know that Jacob had told Duncan about her and that Duncan didn’t hate her brother as much as he claimed, she could tell the memories were painful. And she didn’t want Duncan to be in pain -- goodness knows his situation was terrible enough as it was.

And so Carewyn supported herself on the window ledge with both hands, kicking her feet lightly in the water and tilting her head back slightly.

“A singer in a smoky room...the smell of wine and cheap perfume...for a smile, they can share the night -- it goes on and on and on and on...”

Duncan turned around. Whatever more conflicted emotions had been on his face were gone -- his eyes were glinting with some of their usual mischief again.

“Strangers!” he shot back. “Waiting!”

Carewyn beamed. “Up and down the boulevard, their -- ”

“Shadows! Searching!”

“In the niiiight~...”

Duncan’s mouth spread into a huge, white smirk as he floated back over, his volume rising.

“Streetlight! People!”

“Livin’ just to find emotion!”

“Hiding! Somewhere -- ”

“In the NIIIIIIIIGHT~!”

Before long, the two were subconsciously competing with each other to see who could sing Journey’s Don’t Stop Believing the loudest. Duncan at one point even tried to force Carewyn out of the running by making her laugh (through showing off his stellar air-guitar skills, no less). By the time they were done with the song, Carewyn was convinced that everyone on the entire floor had heard them.

‘Oh well,’ she thought to herself as she headed back to the Slytherin common room, her cherry red lips still spread in a huge, bright smile. ‘I guess blowing out my voice every-so-often isn’t the worst thing ever, if it cheers Duncan up a little.’