#there's something almost freeing about being loved by someone else. being chosen for reasons unbeknownst to you

[swinging-stars-from-satellites]

starting to consider that I might actually be loved by people outside my own family

[todoscript]

how he would ask you out

request: pls some headcanons of how the boys (shinsou/tamaki/shouto) would ask the girl they like out 🥺

characters: shinsou hitoshi, amajiki tamaki, todoroki shouto

genre: fluff

word count: 3.3k+ total, 900-1200 per character

tags: pining, confessions, fem!reader

author’s notes: sorry if this sounds rushed?? i can’t write 

copyright 2021 todoscript, all rights reserved. i do not allow my creations to be published or translated anywhere else.

SHINSOU HITOSHI

two years after his enrollment into the hero course, shinsou had finally came to terms with the feelings he’s been holding for you for quite some time now.

what began as just friendly encounters and kind gestures felt like something more to him. after all, you were one of the key people that led him to transition smoothly into the class, with your helpful demeanor and coming to his aid whenever he was stressed and troubled by the new environment.

you went out of your way to organize study sessions and small arrangements to mingle and get to know the other students better.

you reiterated to him that if he ever had any questions about anything, he could always come to you.

initially, shinsou thought he was being a burden—that he was just heavy baggage that tied you down.

however, you assured he was anything but, and stated that you were more than happy to help him, even going to say you enjoyed spending time and getting to learn more about him.

at your response, shinsou was appalled at how genuine you were.

appalled… but also very grateful.

eventually, there came a point when he realized there was no mistaking the affection he felt for you—not when he subconsciously noted every one of your habits and intricacies, able to tell whatever emotions were running through you at a simple glance, or when he would stop to admire the way you decided to style your hair differently or changed your look, thinking you seemed even more charming that day by the confidence you exude.

no, at that point, he’s sure it was painfully obvious. so obvious, in fact, that kaminari and mina had chosen to skip today’s group study session in favor of letting the two of you have your “alone time”. whatever that could mean.

shinsou had grimaced over their excuse of “being too busy that day” when you had told him the reasoning they gave you over text, despite knowing their next exam was only a couple days away. recalling just how nosy and enthusiastic they could get when involved in these kinds of affairs, he had an inkling of what exactly those two were planning. you, on the other hand, seemed completely oblivious to their schemes.

however, what did latch onto your mind was the thought of spending the day with only shinsou, in his very room, sitting across from each other with your textbooks open in front of you. though you should be more attentive to your studies, you couldn’t help the palpitations beating loudly in your chest and your wandering eyes that snuck glances at him after every question you answered.

unbeknownst to you, shinsou mirrored your actions all the same, reciprocating the flustered behavior, albeit a bit more subtly.

keep calm, hitoshi. why are you getting all worked up? he would say to himself, putting on his usual facade.

although he came off as relatively calm and collected on the outside, it’s difficult to keep his emotions in check when actions never lie.

that was especially true as he reached his hand out for the eraser you two were sharing between each other. with his eyes continuing to gander down at his notes, he hadn’t noticed that you were lunging for the same thing—not until your fingers had suddenly touched and you both pulled away at a speed equivalent to making contact with fire.

his stare unfaltering, shinsou was surprised to discern the embarrassed look on your face that immediately fixed itself as you rummaged through your pencil pouch. a second later, you pulled out another eraser, one that was notably smaller than the one you were sharing.

“um.. i’ll just use this,” you offered, and shinsou rubbed the back of his neck, the whole situation more awkward than it needed to be considering you never had any trouble sharing your supplies with each other before.

through some examination of your demeanor, shinsou had made a… bold enough claim, thinking that maybe—just maybe—you held the same kind of affections for him as he did for you.

it’s like he recalled earlier—actions never lie—and shinsou didn’t let the quiver of your lips or the intense concentration at your work to avoid meeting his gaze go past his head. that’s what spurred him to finally act on his desires.

without warning, he leaned forward on his seat to lay his hand over yours that caught your attention. you met his eyes, astonished to say the least, but more so concerned by how your eyes widened before you were about to open your mouth to ask him what was wrong.

the violet-haired male beats you to your words, voice resonating firmly, “y/n.”

you blinked. “y-yeah..?”

“i know this might be a bit late coming from me, but,” you could feel his hand tighten atop yours, “after exams, do you want to catch a movie together? just the two of us?”

shinsou fought the urge to look away, bashful at how he made his declaration for your time. the warmth surging under his skin was alleviated at the smile that slowly curled on your lips as you rotate your wrist, your palm touching his. the expression washing over your features told him you’ve been waiting for him to ask you this for a while now.

“i’d love to.”

AMAJIKI TAMAKI

ever a shy and introverted individual, tamaki has never had the heart to ask you out despite years of harboring a crush on you.

every time the thought had crossed his mind, he’d reason poorly with himself that you wouldn’t be interested in him in that way.

it didn’t help that his low self-esteem only deepened that thought that had now rooted itself in his brain.

at such a prestigious school like u.a., you were bound to find someone far more compelling than him—someone with guts, confidence, and great social skills. not a guy like him who conjures the image of potatoes at every anxiety-inducing encounter he comes across.

he was relieved enough to settle himself comfortably as just your friend—a title that allowed him to stay close and keep within your circle, all the while subjecting him to simply admiring you from afar.

but his eyes that held a hidden longing for more weren’t overlooked by a fellow student of his. or to be precise, the ever curious and free-spirited, hadou nejire.

always aware of his surroundings, it was hard not to notice that peculiar stare she’d aim at him during moments where he might’ve just finished speaking to you, or when you’d pass by and his head would naturally drift in your direction.

it was like she was picking apart every detail laid on him and it made tamaki absolutely restless.

tamaki’s suspicions and anxiety were later raised during one instance at the lunch table. he was at his usual seat next to his other big three companions, mirio and the aforementioned nejire, who was eyeing him with a gleam in her eye.

even with his self-consciousness, tamaki did his best not to pay any mind to the undesired attention and munched on his plate of takoyaki—the octopus nestled in the batter sure to come in handy later in training that day.

to his dismay, you passed by their table with your tray of food in hand, and nejire did not waste any time calling you over in that cheery tone of hers.

she invited you to sit down with them. you gave her invitation some thought before ultimately placing yourself in the free spot next to mirio, with nejire and tamaki already seated across from you.

the girl was all smiles and hums while tamaki was in a state of distress, both at his friend’s odd behavior, which was starting to spell trouble, to having you pulled into all of this. mirio was just being mirio, welcoming as always.

you greeted everyone at the table, making eye contact with mirio and nejire, but tamaki evaded your line of sight. he simply waved his reply without breaking away from his balls of takoyaki.

luckily for him, you didn’t give his lack of words much thought and started digging into your own lunch. it was then that nejire found it appropriate to start up a conversation.

“y’know, y/n, i’ve been meaning to ask you this, from one girl to another,” she mused, finger waving around playfully, “are you interested in anyone here?”

upon hearing her question, tamaki almost choked on his bonito flakes, his cheeks puffed and eyes blown. meanwhile, your chewing slowed as you gave your answer some thought.

“uh… well–”

“i’d say fujita from class d is quite the looker! think you’d be interested in them?”

after swallowing the food in his mouth, tamaki began to subconsciously listen in on the conversation. he paid close attention to your responses with bated breath, a small part of him anticipating your answer highly.

“fujita’s nice and all, but i don’t think we’d really get along as a couple.”

tamaki mentally sighed, relief evident all over his face. it was then that mirio had started fitting the pieces together after watching his close friend’s brow wrinkle throughout the entire exchange before finally relaxing at your words. crossing his eyes with nejire’s only confirmed his suspicions as the girl sent him a wink.

as a friend, mirio wasn’t about to let nejire’s operations fall flat. getting up from his seat, he motioned tamaki to come with him.

“i heard they have extra yakisoba bread right now! we should go check it out!” he said as a guise to give the other two time to themselves, free from tamaki’s prying ears.

unaware that mirio had caught on so quickly, tamaki didn’t object to tagging along with him. mostly because he thought of this as an opportunity to get some fresh air and calm his racing heart, finally feeling the effects of the blood rushing to his face.

with tamaki supposedly out of earshot, nejire was free to go about her questions however she wanted.

“okay then, if not fujita, then who? there has to be someone, right?” the girl scooted further in her seat out of pure curiosity. “tell me, is it perhaps someone in our class?”

it was your turn to be stricken by her boldness. you tried picking at your food, stuffing it into your mouth to avoid answering, but nejire’s tenacity outmatched you.

finishing your lunch, you opened your mouth to speak, “actually, the person i’m interested in is pretty close to you…”

nejire feigned ignorance, innocently placing a finger under her chin. “who? mirio?”

“ah no, it’s tamaki, alright?!” you ended up blurting, voice hushed but frantic.

bingo. hearing exactly what she wanted, nejire returned to her original position, a triumphant grin plastered on her lips. replaying what you said out loud in your head, you buried your warm face in your hands.

unbeknownst to you, tamaki had ended up hearing the whole exchange around the corner coming back to their table as mirio lightly snickered at his revelation of an expression.

the blond patted his shoulder. “go on then, you know what to do.” he threw tamaki an encouraging thumbs-up.

the boy gulped in response before inhaling a deep breath of air to prepare himself for what would arguably be the most important yet stress-inducing moment of his life so far.

noticing you getting up to discard your tray, tamaki—through a final push from mirio—went to make his move.

hearing him suddenly call out to you, you were caught off-guard. after admitting to your crush on tamaki to nejire, you felt your cheeks get hot just seeing his face right afterward.

“oh hey, did you get your hands on those yakisoba breads?” you scraped up a way to start the conversation.

“right... that… mirio managed to get the last one in the cafeteria,” he answered. then he brought his hand to rub his elbow, fidgeting in his spot as he found it difficult to look you in the eyes again.

“tamaki? something wrong? are you upset that he got the last yakisoba bread?”

he shook his head. “no, i… it’s just… i’ve been meaning to ask you this for a long time now, but never had the courage to say it to you because i didn’t think you ever liked me that way. but…” he finally mustered the determination to face you head-on. “would you go out with me, y/n?”

at first, you were speechless—absent of words as you relayed his request in your mind over and over again. then, your eyes softened, lips easing into a smile as you reached out for his hand.

“i thought you’d never ask.”

TODOROKI SHOUTO

it’s no surprise to many that when it came to asking someone out, todoroki didn’t exactly know the first thing to do.

mostly because he’s never asked anyone out to begin with.

you were the first person he’s ever felt these kinds of emotions for, and to be frank, he wasn’t sure what to make of everything that had been going through him when that root of infatuation had started to bloom inside him.

rather than sulk or contemplate on his thoughts for too long, he surmised it was best to simply come clean and ask for advice.

but when he confessed to what had been on his mind lately, he wasn’t expecting such a vigorous response from his friends.

“i’ve been thinking about asking y/n out.”

there was a layer of uncomfortable silence amongst the group before all hell eventually broke loose.

midoriya, uraraka, and iida immediately sprung from their seats in the common room, yelling “what?!” in unison. tsuyu and her frog-like mannerisms were more idle, but still surprised nonetheless.

todoroki was unfazed by their reactions, actually expecting it to go that way considering he’s never brought up any topics of that nature before. at the very least, he’s thankful he decided to say this when it was just the five of them. compared to what the whole class’s reaction would have been like, this was incredibly tame.

todoroki was used to always listening to what others had to say and never being the subject of the conversation when it came to dating.

but now things were different. he was openly admitting to them that he was regarding someone romantically. that he possibly sought a relationship with this someone—wanting to be committed to them and become the very best person he could be right next to them. to the four, this was coming completely out of left field.

after everyone simmered down and let the news sink in, the dual-haired boy resumed his thought,

“but i’m not sure how to do it.”

though the entirety of the group never had any experiences when it came to dating, they knew enough from media and pop culture to get an idea on how to help him. more than todoroki could imagine on his own anyway.

“i know! how about we go with the romantic and suave approach!” uraraka suggested. the rest asked her to elaborate.

“it’s simple! it starts by you leaving a note on her desk right before class, saying to meet you on the rooftop of the school! before the designated time, you should wait there for her with a bouquet of flowers, and then when she arrives, confess your feelings and ask her out!”

midoriya rubbed a finger against his cheek, skeptical. “i don’t think that sounds as simple as you’re making it out to be.”

tsuyu chimed in beside him. “those kinds of ideas usually only work well in books, ochako.”

pursing her lips, uraraka gave her plan a once-over, and realized it did seem a bit more involved and out of character than what todoroki was used to.

despite sharing a few more ideas with one another, they couldn’t narrow it down to any perfect one.

that was when iida clapped his hand, bringing everyone’s attention to him.

“alright, i think we’re starting to blow this whole ‘operation’ way out of proportion,” he said.

“if you’re honest about the way you feel about her and show it sincerely, i’m sure she’ll consider your feelings. you don’t have to do anything extravagant when it comes to asking someone out.”

listening throughout every word, todoroki nodded. meanwhile the other three were astonished that their class representative could be so whimsical when it came to romance, which in turn, iida was conflicted by. however, at the very least he was glad they could help out a friend. and so, todoroki went about his day with their discussion in mind.

he found that in many occurrences, whenever he crossed by you and thought of it as a chance to ask you out, there would always be someone to come in and take your time away. leaving him to stand there awkwardly before dismissing the fated question for later.

eventually, the sky dimmed and evening arrived, and by then, the whole class was already back at their dormitory and about to have dinner.

through some rather convenient circumstances, you two were actually assigned on kitchen duty that night.

“it’s been getting pretty cold lately so i was thinking we should cook up a hot pot for everyone.” you gave your idea to him as you pulled out some ingredients from the fridge, waiting for his reply, but it came a few seconds later than you were expecting.

“right. sounds like a good idea,” todoroki answered a tad late. upon realizing it was only going to be the two of you making dinner tonight, his mind was occupied by what he and his friends spoke about earlier.

that was when he started overthinking the situation and absentmindedly half-assed his work.

“todoroki, the cut on the tofu is slightly uneven.” you reviewed his cutting board. looking down, he saw the inconsistent slices of tofu limp in front of him. if bakugou were the executive chef for the evening, he would’ve had to hear an earful from him.

“sorry…” he apologized quietly, reaching out for another cube of tofu to cut.

“is everything okay? i know you’re still learning how to cook, but i’ve seen you show some significant improvement on your knife skills recently.” you voiced your concern for him.

the white and red-haired boy stared at the white bean curd while hearing your worried tone and couldn’t find it within himself to continue the task. it was now or never he thought. he laid the knife flat on the cutting board.

“actually, i wanted to ask you something.” he turned toward you. “do you… want to go out with me?”

nothing but the sound of the fire running on the stove could be heard in the kitchen. todoroki didn’t move his eyes away from you, watching you nearly drop the plate of siu choy and shiitake mushrooms out of shock as your mouth was hanging open.

when you caught onto your bearings, you let out a small laugh. “oh… i… wasn’t expecting that,” you admitted honestly, placing the ingredients on the counter safely.

the boy furrowed his brows. “is that a no?”

“n-no! i mean that isn’t my answer! i–” you fumbled with your words, cheeks warming up now that his confession had finally sunk in. in the meantime, todoroki found your reaction quite amusing. the corner of his lip quirked into a grin.

“what i mean to say is that yes, i’d love to go out with you.” you accepted the offer wholeheartedly. todoroki would be lying if his heart wasn’t throbbing from anticipation. he’s glad he’s able to rest and put that aside.

“now let’s continue making this hot pot together!” you cheered, smiling widely and he found comfort in your words before resuming slicing the tofu.

[thevindicativevordan]

On Maxima

Every time DC wants to put Supes in a relationship with someone other than Lois, I always wonder why they don't just go with Maxima.

Especially since she's basically what they turn Diana into every time they try to hook the two of them up. Why not just go with the actual Superman Rogue/supporting character who is also a warrior-queen? Who is already almost as violent as she is horny, forcing Clark to try to get her to chill out, even as he's tempted to join her? If it isn't already clear, I like Maxima. Her character archetype, the supervillainess who tempts the hero with sex appeal, is one that's pretty damn popular for obvious reasons. Also for obvious reasons, this kind of character can provoke a backlash nowadays.

Personally I think she can still work just fine, she just needs some revamp. The basics of her character and backstory are still solid and offer storytelling potential. She's the Queen of the alien Empire of Almerac. Maxima is drawn to Superman because of his power. The real big fix is changing why she's attracted to his power, and why she came to Earth in the first place, shifting it away from eugenics to something else.

What I'd Do With Maxima

So I'm going to take some cues from the DCAU incarnation of Maxima in that the reason she seeks Superman out is because she's been deposed.

DCAU Maxima got deposed after she met Superman, but she lost her throne because her people judged her too self-absorbed and immature to lead them. Which she totally was, and changing that formed the crux of her character development over the course of the episode. I'd take a similar route with reworking comics Maxima's backstory.

Maxima has just taken the throne when the Interstellar Empire of Almerac comes under the assault of Mongul of Warworld. Crushing Almerac's defenses, Mongul gives the world an ultimatum: Turn over a selection of their greatest fighters to fight for Almerac's continued right to exist in Mongul's gladiator arenas or he'll reduce the entire planet to ashes. He also demands a sizeable portion of the population be turned over as slaves tasked with keeping Warworld running, and he wants Maxima to be among those slaves as a symbol of Mongul's authority over Almerac. Maxima angrily refuses, but her people don't trust in her leadership on account of her youth and immaturity, and Maxima is overthrown. She's handed over for transport to Warworld, but while en route she breaks free and seizes control of the transport. Alone and without allies, Maxima sets a course for Earth to seek out the one person she's heard is a match for the Lord of Warworld: Superman.

Only interested at first in his power, and planning to use and dispose of him afterwards, Maxima at first presents herself to Clark as a potential mate. Her hope is that will entice him to support her on what could be a suicide mission, and that offering power and wealth via marriage will cement his loyalty. Being betrayed by her subjects still stings her though she takes great pains to pretend otherwise. Superman turns down the marriage offer, but agrees to follow her to take down Mongul and free Almerac. The two travel back to Almerac which is in the midst of choosing who will fight on Warworld. Clark pretends to be a native of Almerac and is chosen as one of the champions. Initially planning to stay on Almerac and purge those who betrayed her while Clark fights on Warworld, Maxima chooses to give herself up to Mongul, after he announces that he will be vaporizing an entire continent as punishment for the Almeracans failure to turn her over to him. Amused at her compassion for those who betrayed her, Mongul adds Maxima to the roster of gladiators, and she departs with Clark to the arenas.

Over the course of a series of battles, Maxima and Clark butt heads, watch each other's backs, and gradually fall in love with each other. Maxima admires Clark's resolve, restraint, and maturity, traits she's forced to admit she lacked. She's skeptical of his idealism however, seeing it as a flaw that undermines his effectiveness, particularly when it comes to killing. Clark admires Maxima's passion, bravery, and refusal to settle for anything less than the best in anyone including herself. All traits that make him ponder if perhaps she does have it in her to be a good leader. He dislikes her arrogance and entitlement however, particularly when it comes to her royal right to rule. A frequent source of fights between the two is whether the common person should have any voice in government with Maxima scoffing at that and point at how the mob gave in to Mongul, with Clark countering that Almeracans had long felt unheard and cut off from their rulers. Obviously that they're both super hot doesn't hurt as part of why they end up sleeping together.

Ultimately through a series of events Superman and Maxima succeed in freeing Almerac and driving Mongul away. Then everything promptly goes to hell. Having fallen for Clark for real over the course of their adventure, Maxima repeats her offer to him of marriage, except genuinely this time.

The two have had sex a couple times already, and Clark is genuinely tempted at the prospect of sticking with Maxima. He's grown to enjoy her company (having sex tends to do that), he enjoys the freedom to be himself without having to hide his powers, the Almeracans embrace him as their champion, and as Maxima's consort he could take an active hand in shaping society. At the point in Clark's career where I'd want to do this story, he's growing out of his youthful rage, but he's still not at peace with his lot in life. Earth's inability to meaningfully change at the pace he wants frustrates him, and leaving behind the restrictions of life there does entice him. My point is that I think the appeal of Maxima to Superman should and can be more than just breeding little Clarks as has been the case in the past.

However Clark ultimately rejects the offer. He can't bring himself to cut ties with Earth, Maxima's unwillingness to cede some of her power to her people isn't something Clark can accept, and Clark is also concerned that taking up her offer would compromise his ability to be a hero. As you would expect, Maxima is pissed at his refusal, treating it as another stab in the back. Due to his help in freeing her people and reclaiming her throne, she spares his life but exiles him from Almerac, declaring him persona non grata throughout the Empire.

Unbeknownst to Clark, who leaves after it's made clear the Almeracans don't want a civil war, Maxima is pregnant with his child. The child allows her to avoid entering into a political marriage, maintaining her independence since she now has a heir. This daughter will be groomed in hidden to take over the Empire, which Maxima now has plans to expand. The humiliation Mongul visited upon Almerac has had a big impact on her mindset. Now she's focused on eliminating any potential threats to her people, and she wants to transform Almerac into the greatest Interstellar Empire in the Milky Way. Then it will never be at the mercy of a foreign power ever again.

For stories, Superman and Maxima are clearly going to clash given she's become an imperialist herself, no better than Mongul. You can tell stories about Clark foiling Maxima's attempts to conquer other worlds, or Earth itself. Maxima would occasionally dispatch assassins or go personally to attack Clark, for the purpose of preventing him from getting "soft". The public reason for this is that he's become a roadblock to her aims, and needs to be eliminated. Secretly, her goal is to constantly push him to be stronger because she wants him to meet his daughter one day. Not for any sentimental reasons mind you, Maxima wants Superman to teach their daughter to be his equal in ability and resourcefulness. After learning everything she can from Clark, said daughter will be charged with leading the invasion of Earth. Conquering Earth, and defeating Superman, will be the girl's rite of passage into cementing herself as Maxima's heir. The world of her father, Superman, is destined to be her own Throneworld as Almerac's is Maxima's.

Think you could have a lot of fun in giving Clark a "Damian" of his own to deal with. Personally I'd have it so that the "daughter" would be akin to the New 52 Maxima who I thought had some potential. You could have Maxima and Maxima Jr. argue about the morality of Almerac's expansion, with MJ ultimately taking her father's side which causes enormous problems for her mother since she can't disown her daughter without a replacement heir. I think that could be a fun family dynamic to explore.

Wondering where Maxima will show up next. Part of me was hoping Almerac was that part of underdeveloped Superman lore PKJ talked about fleshing out, but that seems to be either Warworld or the Phantom Zone. I still think Maxima and Almerac have a lot of potential to be major players in Superman's world, but it's going to take someone being interested in fleshing them out. Maybe the upcoming Superman cartoon will accomplish that? If not I'll just have to hope someone will down the line.

[thetriggeredhappy]

👀 hmmmmmm?

ok, the WIP itself is going under a cut because it’s pretty long, but the explanation will stay up here above it.

so the premise was that i wanted more practice with experimental storytelling because, i’ll be honest, i was in a weird place mentally and that’s one way i work shit out. so i did the thing everyone else who writes for the TF2 motherfuckers does and i messed with the understood conventions of Respawn. the idea was that Respawn does three things: first of all, it brings people back from the dead and to a previous save state of them, a singular state at a specific age for all of them. this means that none of them age, because every time they die, that counter just restarts. second, it erases basically all memory from before they died--it resets them to a state before they’d made those memory pathways. then the team often catches up whoever died on what all happened, and they believe it at face value. however, if the whole team dies, they’re basically entirely reset. and thirdly, the system has tweaked them in a very specific way; none of them are very prone to asking questions, and none of them are very prone to going anywhere off-base.

the idea was, there would be a singular repeating opening to every single chapter--or maybe three respawns per chapter or so, depending on length--and every time, one or two words would be tweaked just a little bit in a weird game of telephone. there would be slight deviations in one direction or another, elaborating in different ways, with two constants: seven days after Scout last died he would realize he was in love with Sniper, and that never, ever, ever would they interact or witness a human being besides the ones on the team. this is because scout’s save state is that he’s trapped shortly before he realizes he’s in love, and because the team has no concept of time outside of their base, and unbeknownst to them, the world outside of their little sphere has ended, and they’ve been fighting in the gravel pits for hundreds of years. the announcer is just pre-recorded messages, the other team is also caught in the same system, the bases are entirely self-sufficient, and none of them know that the rest of the world has died.

i realized 1. i could run with this concept literally forever, and this would be like 100k words, and i do not have the time or energy to ever run with it for that long i would Literally Die, 2. i could probably adapt the concept in some ways to be applicable to original work that i could then potentially make money off of because i do think the idea’s pretty good, and then eventually 3. Oh Wait I Sort Of Wrote This Already, I Did A Whole Play On Time Travel, Like A Groundhog Day Thing, I Can’t Do This Again I’ll Die

but since i’m almost positive i’ll never finish it, here’s the work i already have featuring the editing notes as well. the working title was “Loops!AU”. literally absolutely feel free to run with this idea

1. His name is Mickey Lawrence Mundy, and he’s thirty-one years old, and he’s been a smoker for fifteen of those years. He’s tall by American standards and short by Australian, and his parents hate his chosen career path and fashion choices, and his favorite holiday is Halloween because it’s in the fall, his favorite season.

Not a single one of those details would ever be important, out here in the desert far from everywhere, fighting and killing.

The missions start and stop abruptly with little warning, sometimes heralded by the sound of a little motorcycle carrying a girl who’s worth a hundred times her weight in danger, but generally not. He always goes with, even when he’s not so terribly needed, because he’s told to and he gets paid if he does. He hasn’t checked his back account balance in almost two years. He knows it’s probably giving some poor Swiss intern a stress ulcer just looking at it. Rarely does something memorable happen, at most one of his teammates getting taken out and needing to be retrieved, but usually not much of anything at all. They’re important though, apparently. That’s how he’s getting so much money.

His teammates are as remarkable as they are unremarkable—so oddly human despite being absolute freakshows, much like himself. He’d argue with the Spy, avoid the Medic, try and keep the Pyro in his line of sight, and tended to get pestered by the Scout since he was the only person who wouldn’t actively chase him off.

But that last one has been acting strange lately. It’s been a few days since the last mission, which generally makes him pretty antsy, but this is a different sort. He’s been staring at Sniper a lot, eyes sharp from underneath the shade of the brim of his hat, like a wild cat hiding in the brush.

Dangerous, is the word he’s looking for.

2. His name is Mickey "Mick” Mundy, and he’s thirty-one years old, and he’s been bitten by more exotic animals than most people have even seen with the scars to prove it. He’s tall by American standards and short by Australian, and his parents don’t pick up the phone for him anymore for some reason, and his favorite season is the fall because it’s got his favorite holiday stuck smack dab in the middle.

Not a single one of those details would ever be important, out here in the desert far from everywhere, fighting and killing.

The missions start and stop abruptly with little warning, sometimes heralded by the sound of a little motorcycle carrying a girl who’s worth a hundred times her weight in danger, but generally not. He always goes with, even when he’s not so terribly needed, because he’s told to and he gets paid if he does. He hasn’t checked his back account balance in quite some time. He knows it’s probably giving some poor Swiss intern a stress ulcer just looking at it. Rarely does something memorable happen, at most one of his teammates getting taken out and needing to be retrieved from Respawn, but usually not much of anything at all. The missions are important though, apparently. That’s how he’s getting so much money.

His teammates are as remarkable as they are unremarkable—so oddly human despite being absolute freakshows, much like himself. He’d argue with the Spy, avoid the Medic, try and keep the Pyro in his line of sight, and tended to get pestered by the Scout since he was the only person who wouldn’t actively chase him off.

But that last one has been acting strange lately. It’s been a few days since the last mission, which generally makes him pretty antsy, but this is a different sort. He’s been staring at Sniper a lot, eyes sharp from underneath the shade of the brim of his hat, like someone who knows exactly who he is and exactly what he’s been hired to do and is just making sure he only takes out the intended targets, or else.

Dangerous, is the word he’s looking for.

[[every time Sniper dies and gets reset, change tiny little details about the paragraph above, like a game of telephone, deleting more and more information along the way. have sniper remember details about scout that he shouldn’t know, or circumvent earlier problems without thinking about it—ex. scout has an allergic reaction to something sniper cooks and later sniper cooks a different meal even though previous conversation is borderline identical. have one or two times where scout and sniper get in an argument because one of them died but the other didnt and they don’t remember each other correctly]]

[[final chapter scene, scout shows up frazzled, some conversation, deviating an awful lot from previous scripts]]

“Remember Woodstock?” Scout asked, tilting his head. “Remember when that was a thing that happened, and it was a big fuckin’ deal, all sorts of magazines talkin’ about it, it was on TV and everything?”

“Yeah,” Sniper agreed, nodding.

“But do you remember what year that was?”

“Well,” Sniper said, “I,” Sniper said, “I, well, obviously it was fairly recent.”

“Uh-huh,” Scout said, and it wasn’t encouraging.

“Had to be, what, three or four years ago?”

“Weird, because, uh, because the Doc—I asked him about it, right?—he said it had to have been a few months ago. And Spy said it had to have been almost a decade ago. And Mumbles didn’t know what I was talkin’ about.”

There was silence for a few long seconds.

“Because—because the thing is—“ Scout scrubbed at his hair underneath his hat. “—I, I had that written down. I wrote that down, I, I scratched it a good quarter-inch into solid wood planks. Y’know those planks, on the underside of a bedframe? Right where a mattress goes? I uh, I was cleaning under my bed for once, and I’d apparently scratched it under there. Just—just four words. ‘Ask Spy About Woodstock’. That’s it. And—and he started talkin’ about it like it had to have happened, like, before I would’ve even known what that was, when I was a kid or somethin’. And I’m just wondering—I—“ Scout was finally starting to really stumble, and his gaze kept drifting, snapping back, disorientation settling into the furrow between his eyebrows like rain on cracked desert earth. “I’m just wondering how the hell I don’t remember doin’ that.”

He swallowed hard, and it took several seconds to sink in, the weight of his words. “You…” Sniper started to say, and couldn’t find the last part of the thought.

“Me?” Scout prompted, almost desperately, and how long had Sniper been standing there, jaw gaping?

“Snipes?” Scout prompted from through what sounded like a glass of water, snapping his fingers in front of Sniper’s nose a few times, jolting him back to—

“Snipes!” Scout said far too loudly, and Sniper flinched, and resurfaced with a thought.

“Why,” Sniper asked, “did you write it down somewhere so hidden? Who were you worried would find it before you?”

“And did I write it down somewhere else, and it *did* get found, and that’s why it’s so hard to think about?” Scout finished.

Silence for a few seconds.

“Did… you write anything else?” Sniper asked, voice thin.

“That’s the thing,” Scout said, voice thin from a slightly different direction. “Because, see, I did write somethin’ else, but I didn’t need to find that writing to have known somethin’ was up. Because—“

There was silence for a few seconds, a few more.

“Do I… know you from somewhere?” Scout asked.

He wasn’t even looking at Sniper, but his eyes were a shade of—

“Because it feels like just… the way you talk, the, the way *we* talk—“

It was dimly lit in the camper, but his hair shone in the light of the sunrise—the sunset—the—bonfire—sunset?—sun—rise?

“It just feels… familiar.”

He was soft—he was tense—he was soft—had he ever even touched Scout before?—he looked tense—he looked soft.

“It feels like I’ve met you somewhere before.”

He looked tense.

“Is it you?”

“What?” Sniper asked.

“It’s you, isn’t it?” His voice trembled. “It’s all your fault. You’re the one doing this. Why—why the hell else would I have scratched in your name?”

“What?” Sniper asked.

“But—but it can’t be you,” Scout started, talking himself back again. “It can’t be you because it’s—it’s not just ‘Sniper’ scratched down there. When did you tell me? Why did you tell me? Why’d I hide it?”

“What?” Sniper asked.

Scout looked at him, gaze hard enough, fragile enough, glass, sheets of ice, that he fought to find more words.

“What are you talking about? Is it… what did you find?”

Scout looked at him, gaze soft enough, firm enough, decades-old-mattress, rotting springs, that he didn’t dare say anything else.

“I’m gonna ask you a few questions here,” Scout said, voice wobbly.

Sniper nodded.

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

Sniper thought. “I ate a sandwich at the base before I walked over here,” he supplied.

“Before that.”

“Took a shower and all that, fresh off Respawn.”

“Before that.”

“Well, woke up in the Respawn room.”

“Before that.”

“Well, I… I died,” Sniper shrugged.

“How’d you die?”

Sniper was

Sniper

Sniper was

“How’d you die?” Scout asked again, almost exactly the same way.

“Well, I…” Sniper started to say. “…I don’t remember. Probably shot in the head. That happens a lot, I get shot in the head.”

“Let me ask another question,” Scout said. “I come bug you a lot, don’t I?”

“Yeah,” Sniper agreed.

“When’s the longest time I’ve hung out over here?”

“Well, that had to have been…” Sniper started to say. “Well, obviously it’s the time when we…” Sniper started to say.

“When we…?” Scout prompted.

“I…” Sniper said.

“I’ll ask something else,” Scout said, paced one way, then changed his mind and stepped back again. “We get sent to the other bases sometimes. Remember that?”

“Right. Right!” Sniper said, clinging to the scrap of clarity. “We go to a different base every few months until it gets destroyed.”

“And those places have names,” Scout supplied.

“Yes!”

“What were some of them?”

Sniper looked at him. “Well, there was… and… there was a cold one, with… or a…”

Scout looked at him.

“There—with the, with the buildings, and the…”

Scout looked at him.

Sniper looked around his immediate surroundings for clues. He spotted a picture tacked to his wall, blurry and faded and indistinct and damaged, and took a breath, and words wouldn’t come out of his mouth.

“You call your family often?” Scout supplied.

“I do.”

“When did you last call?”

Sniper’s head felt like the picture tacked to his wall.

“Just one more question.”

Sniper looked up at Scout.

“What’s your name?” Scout asked.

“M-Michael—“

No, that wasn’t right.

“Mitch, Mitchel—Mitch—“

No.

“Rich—?”

No, it was,

“Mike—“

No.

No.

Scout’s face was a one-way mirror. “It’s not any of those,” he said, as if Sniper didn’t know. “It’s somethin’ else.”

He was right.

“Your name’s Mickey,” he said, “Lawrence,” he said, “Mundy,” he said, “and I think we might be some of the only people alive on the planet.”

“And I think,” Scout said, “that we’re stuck here, repeating things over and over.”

“And I think,” Scout said, “that we’ve both been the same age as when we were hired for a long, long time, and we keep getting set back to that age.”

“And I think,” Scout said, “that you stuck me at this age on purpose.”

“Why,” Sniper asked, “would I… what, what’s special about it? Why would I pick this age for you? If I—what makes you think that I’m doing it, and that I would?”

“Because I think that every time I wake up after being shot in the head, a few days later, I realize I’m in love with you.”

“What makes you think that?” Sniper asked next.

“Because I realized it again when I saw your name, and it felt like déjà vu. And I’m lookin’ at your shoulders, and I remember exactly what they feel like when I wrap my arms up around them, and how your stubble feels, and what your laugh feels like when I’ve got a hand against your chest, even though I can’t remember ever having touched you in my goddamn life.”

Silence. Sniper felt his breath catching in his chest.

“That’s not possible,” Sniper said, and felt his mind shifting away into denial. “You’re delusional. I’m—there’s just something wrong with our heads.”

“Of course it’s impossible. *None* of this is possible,” Scout said, voice scorched. “It’s not possible to remember feeling things that I’ve never felt before. Just like it’s not possible to be brought back to life, after being shot in the head.”

-

and that's the end of what i have written for this. so there you go

[justallamaimaginingthings]

Jaime Lannister x Reader [Queenslayer]

Request: “ Hi! I'm back!! Can I request a Jaime x reader? They get on well, they've feelings for each other but have never dared to confess anything to the other. During the last battle of King's Landing, the reader kills Cersei to prevent her from doing something really dangerous (like Aerys) under the eyes of Jaime. Later, when everyone celebrates the victory, the reader chooses to leave, believing that Jaime hates her for killing his sister. But finally thanks to Tyrion, there's a happy ending ? Thanks!” by @cyaa-niide

A/n: First of all, really really loved the idea and thank you very much for sending in that request! I hope this meets your expectations. Have a nice day and don’t hesitate to leave a comment

Words: 2000ish

“My Queen, the northerners have breached the walls” Quyburn announced to a very displeased Cersei

“You know what to do. Blow them up” her cold voice replied. You shot a panicked look at Jaime and bolted in the throne room ignoring his attempt to hold you back. The both of you had snuggled in the Red Keep among the citizens right before the doors closed. The whole plan was Jaime’s idea, in a desperate attempt to stop his sister before blood could be shed in another war and you had instantly agreed even though you knew it wouldn’t be as simple as Jaime thought.

“But the people…” The Maester whispered hesitantly

“I gave you an order. Blow them back to the seven hells” Cersei yelled making you realize just how far her obsession to keep the throne had reached.

“Cersei stop this madness. It’s over” you warned in a demanding tone while bursting through the doors, gripping your favorite pair of daggers as tightly as possible. The moment she saw you her eyes widened in shock and a new wave of burning anger cursed thought her.

“Kill her” she ordered the five members of the Kingsguard who were standing beside the throne. The Knights launched at you and thankfully Jaime got there in time to help you fend them off. While the fight was taking place, Cersei tried to escape and find the pyromancers, but you rushed behind her just in time to block her exit.

“You’ve already lost. Don’t take others down with you” you almost begged her, thinking that Jaime would want to keep her alive. During the last few years the Lannister had lost things and people who were important to him and despite how bad the relationship with his sister had gotten, he had loved her once and you were certain her death would hurt him.

Your good will was met by deaf ears as Cersei quickly grabbed one of the swords the Kingsguard had dropped and unskillfully tried to land a hit on you. One of the guards saw what was happening and ran to defend his Queen. Turning to block him, you were left defenseless against Cersei who attempted to hit you once more. In a swift move you managed to avoid her hit and use your second dagger to slash her throat making her stumble and fall to the ground with a loud thud while a pool of blood started to form around her body.

The moment Cersei’s eyes closed, you locked eyes with Jaime who stared at the sight in front of him with a completely blank expression on his face. Time seemed to slow down as his eyes met yours. You had expected hatred or pain to be evident in his gaze. Instead you were met by an emptiness that was much worse. Next thing you remember was dropping the blood covered dagger and running off into the battle.

After that everything was a blur as you somehow managed to survive the battle and make it back to the camp. Upon entering your tent you finally allowed yourself to feel everything. Yes, you had saved many lives but at what cost? Cersei Lannister deserved to die, that much was certain, yet that happening in front of Jaime was more than cruel. The image of the emotionless and numb look on his face haunted you, appearing every time you closed your eyes.

You loved Jaime with everything you had and yet you had chosen to do something that’d hurt him. Knowing you were the reason he had lost someone else was killing you. And as if that wasn’t enough, you realized that he’d probably hate you for the rest of his life, it being the final hit. You didn’t know you were crying until you felt the tears roll down your cheeks. Throwing away the dagger you were still holding you broke down in tears, sobs shaking your body.

Unbeknownst to you, Jaime found himself in an almost similar situation. The moment he saw Cersei ordering the death of everyone in the city he realized just how identical she had become to Aerys and how, by losing the last shred of rationality she had left, she had become the same monster Jaime sacrificed his honor to destroy. Seeing her dead had hurt but deep down he knew it was coming. At the same time he felt free, as if the worst part of him had died with her. Knowing that Cersei had lied to him about carrying his child served to erase every last inch of remorse he could find in himself.

The other thing that troubled him even more was the terrified look he saw in your face right before you disappeared. He couldn’t help but think that it was directed at him. Had you finally realized what kind of person he was upon seeing the madness of his twin? Would you ever talk to him again? The thought of losing you was too much for him to bear. You had been the light in his darkness, guiding him towards being a better version of himself, and most of all you had been the only one to truly believe in him. He loved you more than he thought he was able to. He was abruptly snapped out of his thoughts by Tyrion bursting inside his tent holding three glasses of wine.

“Is it true then? Our sister wanted to burn King’s Landing down?” He asked waiting for Jaime to confirm the rumors that had been spreading around like wildfire.

“I saw it in her eyes, Tyrion. The same madness as Aerys” Jaime replied slowly

“You did what you had to do. It must be hard for you, but it was the right thing. You saved our lives” Tyrion reassured his brother while emptying one of the cups.

“What are you talking about? I was not the one who did it. It was Y/n” Jaime replied and suddenly a look of realization crossed the shorter man’s face.

“Of course!” Tyrion exclaimed

“Of course what?”

“Before I came here I passed by her tent to offer her to join us, hence the third glass, but the moment I mentioned your name she grew pale as a ghost and used some terrible excuse to get rid of me” he explained making Jaime’s last hope dissolve into dust as his worst fears came true.

“She probably realized I’m not the man she thinks, that I’m just as bad as Cersei” Jaime said burying his face in his hand in desperation. His reaction was answered by an empty cup of wine hitting him on the shoulder “What was that for?” He snapped at his brother

“Being positively dense” Tyrion casually replied “Y/n loves you more than I’ve seen anyone love and trust me on this, she’s the last person in this world to even think you are similar to our sister”

“Then why did she react this way?”

“Because she must think you despise her. Think about it, she killed Cersei, the only woman you have admitted to ever loving and your sister” Before Tyrion could say another word, Jaime had already run outside, leaving his brother with a smirk on his face “What would they do without me?” He wondered emptying to second cup of wine.

Not bothering to knock, Jaime entered your tent only to be faced with an unexpected sight. You had almost finished packing your belongings in a small leather back, a couple of dried tears still evident on your face. Turning around you saw the man who had been plaguing your thoughts and let out a small gasp of surprise.

“What are you doing here?” You asked him trying and failing to hide your panic as you refused to meet his eyes. The knight took another step towards you so that he was standing right in front of you and placed his hand on your cheek, slowly guiding your eyes to meet his.

“Are you scared of me?” He demanded to know almost desperately

“Of course not, Jaime” you assured him taken aback by his question

“Then why are you avoiding me? Why are you leaving?” Affection was evident in his voice hidden behind confusion and helplessness.

“We both know I’m the last person you want to see right now. I don’t regret what I did, but I will accept the consequences of my actions. I don’t blame you for hating me, you know” it all came pouring out before you could hold anything back. Expecting him to leave after your little outburst, you turned around and continued packing, missing the shocked but all the same relieved look on his face.

“I couldn’t hate you even if I tried” Jaime confessed after a moment of silence causing your eyes to snap back to him

“But I-” you started but he carried on, not leaving you a chance to answer

“You saved the city and you ended a war. It was the right thing to do, it was what I should have done” he said and you could see he was being truthful. You were startled by his statement and shot him a hesitant look.

“Nonetheless, I apologize for the pain I caused you” you explained taking his hand in yours “I think I should just stay away for a while”

“Please don’t” you had never heard Jaime beg for anything and yet here he was, gripping your hand and pleading you to stay “I should be the one apologizing for even allowing you to think I wouldn’t want you to stay. If it weren’t for you I’d be the man everyone thought I was and probably would have ended up like Cersei. You’ve shown me there is another way, a brighter one. You’ve been the light in my darkness and for that I am grateful”

“You could never be like her. Say what you will Jaime Lannister, but I know you’re a good man” You said wishing that believing it yourself would be enough to convince him. For a moment, you stayed like this, looking into each other’s eyes while a meaningful silence fell around you. The tension between the two of you was full of unexpressed feelings, affection and admiration, relief that you were both alive and dare you say love. You were incredibly happy he didn't hold what had happened against you, because if he did you wouldn't have been able to live with the guilt. Unable to keep your feelings hidden any longer, you took a deep breath and decided to go for it.

“Jaime-”

“I know” he replied and before your mind could precess what was happening, you felt a pair of lips crash into your own. His hand grasped your waist pulling you close as he channeled all his emotions into the kiss to which you replied with equal enthusiasm. Despite the harshness of his grip and the passion of his actions, his touch was still gentle and delicate as if he was afraid you’d disappear. You smiled into the kiss and softly tugged at his bottom lip before pulling away.

“Does that mean you’re staying?” He asked hopefully

“Maybe you have to convince me a little bit more” you replied grinning and he got the hint as his grip on the back of your shirt tightened once more pulling you back against his chest. And just like that everything was forgotten and all that mattered was you and Jaime.

That day was the most intense emotional roller coaster you had been through, but you came to remember it as a good one. After politics settled down, with Danny and Jon on the throne and Tyrion as Hand of the Queen, you and Jaime knew your part was over. You bought a small house near Casterly Rock and lead a peaceful life full of love and happiness. Sure, the war and bloodshed you had seen had left their scars, but you got over them together and you couldn’t be happier.

Years later, your story became known as that of the Kingslayer and the Queenslayer, the lovers who saved King’s Landing twice and saved each other in the process.

[wingsoffireaus]

MorrowMind AU

Yup this is a weird one that hit me out of the blue. The plot bunny bit much harder than expected and quite frankly I would love to see more random pairings like this in the fandom.

And honestly, I love these guys. Sure they’re terrible but at the same time, I can’t help liking them. Mastermind even has a fanfiction or two that added some nuance to the character that I’ve decided to take inspiration from. Plus when you take a step back and look at it they’re doing terrible, and I mean TERRIBLE things for the ‘right’ reasons. To save their tribe from extinction. Is it okay? Nope. But hey. If I can like Darkstalker than I am allowed to like these guys too.

So be aware that this AU will be delving into these characters and trying to add a more sympathetic side to the story. As well as making them slightly softer than in canon. I do try and always keep a basis for characters in AU’s but these two did need to be toned down a little bit to be fair they were a little one dimensional in canon. I mean they were written well! But all we got was a very one-sided view. A valid one-sided view but one-sided nonetheless. Not to say there wasn’t something else but I definitely took liberties. I also added other AU elements that I wanted to explore. Thanks, everyone and please enjoy my craziness.

Morrowseer and Mastermind end up spending more time together after Queen Battlewinner’s encounter with the Icewing.

At first, Morrowseer is more than a little annoyed with the scientist and only interacts with him whenever necessary.

Which increases as time goes on.

Morrowseer is surprised when he slowly finds himself not minding Masterminds company and eventually even begins to seek it out. Sharing his food with him and showing interest in some of his studies besides the cure for Battlewinner.

Mastermind is surprised and delighted that someone else besides his good friend Farsight is showing interest in his work.

Eventually, both dragons admit to themselves that they have feelings for one another.

Morrowseer is the one who makes the first move but being Morrowseer his request for a date is more of a demand than anything else. Luckily for him, Mastermind surprisingly recognizes it for what it is and tells him that ‘scientifically’ his request would be better received if he put more of a romantic flair into it.

Morrowseer growls and leaves and for a moment Mastermind is worried that he had scared him off but Morrowseer comes back with a new scroll he had picked up on one of his journeys on the mainland that he had thought Mastermind would be interested in. Before asking again. This time much softer.

Mastermind melts and agrees.

It’s a strange courtship. Romance amongst the Nightwings has pretty much become nonexistent the only concern is to always have enough dragonets to keep the tribe going.

Battlewinner has little care over the strange coupling as long as it doesn’t affect their future plans.

A couple of years go by and the Dragonet Prophecy is written and delivered.

Morrowseer and Mastermind decide that they would like a dragonet of their own to raise.

Mastermind immediately knows who he wants to ask to be a surrogate. His dear old friend Farsight. Farsight agrees but insists that it has to be Mastermind who sires the egg. She and Morrowseer don’t exactly see eye to eye.

Morrowseer agrees but only because Farsight already had a dragonet, Feirceteeth, who already seemed strong even though she had only hatched a month before. And to him, he doesn’t mind who actually sires or lays the egg as long as they’re the ones who raise the hatchling.

They try but one is only conceived after a year. This means that their future dragonet is in the running for being the ‘wings of the night’ for the prophecy which more than concerns Morrowseer but Mastermind points out that they’re not the only ones who had an egg at the time. And the likelihood of it being theirs that is chosen is slim. Not as slim as they’d like but slim nonetheless.

A year goes by and sadly it is indeed their egg that will hatch on the brightest night.

Both of them are heartbroken but they still do as their queen demands.

However, after they take the egg to the talons of peace (Mastermind demanded to come.) they both decide to stay at the very least for the hatching.

Neither is impressed by the guardians and both become more and more concerned for their son or daughter.

Morrowseer is furious when he discovers a Rainwing egg in place of a Skywing egg and is half tempted to smash her egg right then and there.

But with his own egg clutched nearby by Mastermind he finds that he can’t bring himself to do it. Instead of glaring angrily at the egg but leaving it alone.

When it’s time for the eggs to hatch Mastermind expresses his desire for their egg to hatch under the light of the moons. And old scroll he had found mentioned an old tradition of bringing Nightwing eggs to hatch beneath the moons. Which simply wasn’t possible on their island with the seemingly eternal cloud cover.

He is more than a little delighted to find what would become the study cave where all three moons are shining through a hole in the ceiling.

Mastermind is fascinated when the Mudwing hatches first and immediately goes to help the others hatch and he has to slam his foot down on Kestrels tail when she goes to intervene.

He explains what the dragonet is doing and states that though he had read about it he had never been able to study it in practice.

He then pointedly asks how the guardians planned on raising the dragonets if they didn’t have even a basic understanding of the different tribes.

He stops speaking when he notices something strange with his egg. It had turned silver. He’s too focused on his own egg to notice that the Sandwings egg had also lightened in shade.

A black dragonet breaks through the shell of his egg and squints into the moonlight. His new bigwings is quick to greet his new sib helping him to finish breaking the eggshell and grooming his scales free of the fluid he was bathed in. Then turning to the other eggs that were hatching.

The newly hatched dragonet peers around curiously. Unbeknownst to all of the older dragons he is searching their minds. Then he focuses on the only other two black dragons in the cave. Those were his parents.

Morrowseer practically melts when his son's eyes focus on his for the first time.

The dragonet toddles over to the two older Nightwings and is quickly scooped up by Mastermind who quickly looks him over to make sure that he is healthy.

Besides the two strange teardrop scales next to the corner of each eye he looks more or less like a regular hatching. If a bit small.

Morrowseer stands awkwardly yet proudly next to his mate and son.

The dragonet holds out his talons towards his other father and Mastermind passes him over with little hesitation.

For the first time, the guardians begin to realize what the relationship between the two and decide that it would be best to remain silent while the rest of the eggs hatch. The little bigwing proudly helping each one.

When they are all finally hatched the spell over the three Nightwings is broken and they watch on as the guardians begin to name each one.

Clay, Tsunami, Glory and Sunny. The last one was decided with a slight almost guilty shuffle of Dune’s talons.

Almost as one the guardians all turn to the Nightwings.

Mastermind and Morrowseer smile down at their dragonet who chirps cutely up at them.

Starflight. His name was Starflight.

As the years go by the two Nightwings continue to visit their son.

This helps with the neglect from the guardians but only by so much.

Mastermind isn’t able to visit as much as Morrowseer but he always makes an effort and is the one who is willing to teach all of the dragonets about their tribes. Except for Glory at this point, the Nightwings know very little about the Rainwings since they hadn’t really begun preparing for that assault yet.

Starflight and Sunny know from an early age that the prophecy isn’t real. But they also know that there is a reason for it and one that Starflight’s parents believe in wholeheartedly.

Morrowseer and Mastermind slowly become more and more fond of all the dragonets and begin to feel guilty in using them for the Nightwing plot but they know that the fate of the tribe lies with them succeeding.

A year or so before the events of canon and before the Nightwings begin capturing the Rainwings Starflight has a vision of his father, Mastermind, experimenting on Rainwings without any remorse.

The next time he sees his father he begs him not to do it. That it would lead to his destruction.

Mastermind is understandably freaked out and talks with Morrowseer and together they confront their son about it.

Starflight is hesitant to explain his abilities but eventually caves when he realizes the future would be all the better for it. He is very careful to keep Sunny’s own abilities out of it of course.

They are obviously in shock and in awe of their son’s abilities.

Mastermind theorizes about it possibly caused by being born away from the volcano or if it was possibly even the moonlight.

Starflight says he thinks that actually is what it was. His first memory drinking in the moon's powers as his own.

While they are in awe of their son they are also fearful and both of them decide that no matter what Queen Battlewinner or any other Nightwing could be allowed to know about his abilities.

They are afraid to ask about the prophecy but Starflight beats him to the punch. Admitting that he had known about it for years now. But he didn’t fully understand what the purpose of it was.

Morrowseer reluctantly explains about the volcano and Starflight catches helpful glimpses of it in their minds.

He is also horrified and quite possibly traumatized by it all.

Now he feels conflicted. He knows what his tribe is going through is awful but what they had planned to do to the Rainwings was also awful.

For the next little while, he remains conflicted and can’t bring himself to tell the rest of his friends what he had learned. Except for Sunny of course. Who is also traumatized by what he had seen in their heads?

But Sunny tells him that they have to come clean to the other dragonets about the Nightwings plans.

The others are understandably upset by this, they had known about the prophecy being fake but they had all believed that the Nightwings had had nobler intentions with the lie. Perhaps believing it would set events in motion for an end to the war?

But instead, it was all a plot to take over new land.

This is upsetting because the dragonets themselves all like Morrowseer and Mastermind since whenever they were around they were treated MUCH better by the guardians.

Starflight himself is conflicted. And as time goes by he always wonders what he should do. Help his parents and tribe? Or the family he had found in his friends.

On the flip side. Starflights vision of captured Rainwings has come true and Mastermind is confronted by the sight of a Nightwing with his face half-melted and a terrified Rainwing queen.

He has his orders and when he shows hesitation Queen Battlewinner is sure to remind him what is at stake and that she had been kindly allowing them to help raise Starflight and continue their affair. As long as they didn’t allow their attachments to make them grow weak.

So Mastermind experiments. He is much kinder here though. Treating the Rainwings as well as he possibly can under the circumstances and making sure that fruit is collected for the Rainwings. Not ideal. And it would be admittedly easier if he focused only on experiments but he keeps seeing Glory in their faces and Starflights horrified face when he begged him not to hurt the Rainwings.

So he does the best he can. And can only hope that it’s enough for his tribe and the makeshift family he has made with Morrowseer.

He can’t wait for the day that it’s all over.

And that’s it for now. Again, I know I have a very unpopular opinion when it comes to these two. And people are totally valid in not liking them. But what can I say? I find them very interesting and there’s a lot of potential for them. I see them as villains of circumstance instead of villains to the core. But to be honest we don’t know nearly enough about them to really make judgments on how they got to the way they are.

Honestly, the only reason this AU exists is me Jokingly saying “I ship it” when we first saw their interactions with one another. I knew that if the fandom was bigger and had a larger fanfiction crowd their absolutely would be joking fanfiction for these two.

But then I wanted Starflight to exist and it blew WAAAY  out of proportion. Like this thing is still going, I mean I straight up wrote the scene where the dragonets hatched and I plan on posting it sooner or later after some editing and polishing. These old guys have become a serious guilty pleasure for me and I hope at least a couple of you will find it at least funny enough to give it a chance because honestly, I’m not going to stop. I’m going to keep working on it and have fun with the concept because that’s kind of the point of this blog. Haha

And YES I totally just inserted prophet and seer Starflight (and Sunny. ) You’re welcome. Convoluted? Maybe. Do I care? No. Not really.  Yes, I am a troll.

II did mention this before but  I am going to take a bit of time off and work on some things on the side. I’m going to try and get a bulk of AU’s done so if I have conflicting schedules I can still get them posted. And I also want to just try my hand at writing again. So hopefully you guys can be patient with me while I’m working on this.

Stay awesome guys!

~Tri

[chroniclesofawkwardness]

Crazy House

Yesterday, a memory appeared in my Facebook timeline from a decade ago. I usually cringe when something like this happens because such memories typically put another one of my expletive-filled tirades on full display for me to see, and though I know that no one else can see my memories unless I choose to share them, more often then not, I have a Scooby-Doo-shocked reaction when looking back at my own words. Thoughts such as, “That was hilarious,” or “I’d forgotten all about that,” come into play. I find myself wondering how I could have been so mad or inspired at a given moment to make my thoughts part of the public record, especially when no one is really sure about how Facebook and other social media platforms used data at that time, or how they continue to use it to this day. For instance, I have no idea how an ad for an avocado mattress found its way onto the side of my timeline earlier this week, but I suppose some things are best left unexplained.

July 6, 2008 was smack dab in the middle of a very trying time in my life. The previous December, I'd been basically forced out (at least that was my perception) of the home where I'd stayed with a family in Sombor, Serbia that my mentor from university had connected me with. While it's true that I had overstayed my welcome, the feeling of being essentially homeless was hard to shake, even if it was time for me to move on. Slavica and I had basically ridden in silence to Novi Sad, where I'd be staying with one of her former students, Ivica until I could find somewhere more permanent to lay my head.

Ivica was one of the kindest people I'd ever met. He took me into his home sight unseen. I can't be sure, but maybe I liked him so much because he too had gotten off to a rough start in life yet managed to pull through. For the next two weeks, I slept on one of the pullout sofa beds in his tiny studio apartment, he slept on the other. I knew my time with him wouldn't last as long as my time in Sombor. It couldn't. He told me in no uncertain terms that his landlady would freak out if she caught me in the apartment, let alone what the police might say if they caught me staying with him unbeknownst to local law enforcement. In the Balkans, bureaucratic habits die hard, and the need for a paper trail is almost insatiable, like a baby craving his mother's milk, or how a moth is drawn to a flame though it could burn itself by flying too close, just like Icarus to the sun. No one questions it. It's just the way it is, and more powerfully, the way it's always been.

As December crept towards January, we started looking in the paper for rooms to rent. As luck would have it, we found one right around the corner from Ivica's place in a large orange house owned by a man named Raymond as his wife, Vesna. Perhaps I was drawn to Raymond, like Ivica, because of his trials in life. Raymond was born in Novi Sad but moved to France when he was five. His father died in 1994, in the midst of the wars which tore Yugoslavia asunder and six smaller nations emerged from the turmoil to be left to their own devices and heal their own wounds. I like to think of the six nations as siblings: Sometimes they emphasize their commonalities, others they point out their differences, and occasionally they bicker over their inheritance. As I understand it, owing to the upheaval of war, Raymond had been unable to prove that his father was a citizen of Yugoslavia. Since he couldn't verify his father's citizenship, he was considered a foreigner like me, even though Novi Sad was his birthplace. Old habits die hard.

Raymond and Vesna rented out the four single rooms and common kitchen that made up the top floor of their home in order for their son to attend private school and keep the washing machine spinning (the same washing machine that none of the tenants could use). Most of the occupants were students at the University of Novi Sad, and perhaps the occasional foreigner like me. My first night in the house, the top floor was pitch black, and the only consistent sounds I could hear were the explosions of fireworks marking either the beginning of 2008, a wedding, or just another Thursday. The Serbs love to party, and most of them don't care who's watching. I'm convinced the love of a good time, dancing on tabletops, and plumb brandy manifests itself genetically. It's as much a part of any Serb's DNA as hair color, eye color, or the ability to roll one's tongue.  

I was shocked when my phone rang and my friend Sanja was at the other end. There, in the darkness, she asked if I was alone, and wanted to know if I was doing okay. Maybe I was drawn to Sanja because she too knew what it was like to be a foreigner in a strange land. She'd attended high school in Minnesota in 1995, and had gone on to start her own foreign language school where she taught me to teach English as a second language. I didn't have a lot going for me in those days, but Sanja saw something in me that I may not have seen in myself, and I'll be forever grateful to her because of it. If there's another dominant gene among the Serbs, it's hospitality. To this day, I'm still amazed at how people I hardly knew could be so nice to me. Their lives are typically much harder, and survival more precarious than the average American would care to feel on his or her own skin, and that night in the dark, I was feeling like my life was pretty hard too. When Sanja's call pierced the silence between explosions of fireworks, I was reminded that my life really wasn't so bad. I was beginning to develop the same resourcefulness by which inhabitants of the Balkan Peninsula had survived for generations.

As my roommates filtered back in from their winter holidays, I began to feel like I too was back in college, the womb to which I'd wanted to be returned almost as soon as I'd been set free. The comings and goings never ceased. The loud music, the late nights, the dishes piling up in the sink, the sexual encounters in the adjoining rooms...

When Kristina came to the Crazy House from Vranje, in southern Serbia (about seven hours from Novi Sad by bus), I initially was unsure of what to expect. She was a strikingly beautiful woman, as the picture shows. She was taller, with naturally dark brown hair and eyes. She had a smile that could cross borders easier than a Serbian passport at the time, if she chose to show it. I initially thought she was a bit standoffish, and as someone who's beautiful and knows it, I figured she was used to getting what she wanted. But, I slowly realized that I was wrong. Things started to around when I realized that Kristina was one of the few roommates in the Crazy House who'd sit and drink coffee with me at the small table in the common area of our temporary residence, and she wasn't afraid to speak Serbian with me. This was a rare occurrence. When most people found out I was an American, any chance I had of speaking the local language would slip away like lovers in a forbidden romance whenever they could escape prying eyes.

One day Kristina's family came to visit, which was no small task given the distance from Vranje, and the poorly maintained roads. Kristina had exams coming up, and I suppose her family thought it was as good of a time as any to make the trip. I was quickly introduced to her parents and her two sisters. Marija, the architect, stood out to me because she was just as beautiful as Kristina (though she had blonde hair at the time) and I almost instantly respected her for her chosen course of study. Architecture was as foreign to me as organic chemistry. Years of academic training had mostly surrounded me with people whose interests were similar to my own, so I was happy to meet someone who's scholarly experience had been vastly different from mine.

The morning of Kristina's exam, I remember her mother offering to share some of the food they had brought for the trip with me. I don't recall exactly what I had to eat, but I was grateful for the small meal, and the companionship, though I had no idea what was to come, I was both happy and humbled that the hospitality gene had expressed itself at that moment. At the time, I was going through a period of food scarcity owing mainly to three factors: a substitute teacher's salary didn't leave much disposable income, a bit of a language barrier at the grocery store despite years of study made it hard to ask for what I wanted, and my own pride made it difficult for me to admit that I needed help. I guess I thought anyone who saw me would be able to see on my face that I needed help without so much as a word passing from my lips. I'll never know if her mother saw such a look on my face, or if it's just something mothers know instinctually even if they can't explain why.

As the long summer day faded into dusk, Kristina and her family piled into their car to head over to the theater. I remember sitting at the small table in the common area staring briefly at the wall, which was painted an inexplicable yellow for some reason. I'm not sure if a single thought passed through my head in the five minutes between the time the Janjić family left the house, and when Kristina's father appeared next to me and said something I'll never forget:

- David, Would you like to go with us?

I couldn't believe my ears. I'd known these people less than 48 hours, and they thought enough of me to ask me to join them at what was typically a family-exclusive event, where the everyone in the audience was usually bound by blood to someone on stage. I gladly accepted. To this day, I have no idea how they managed to fit one more person into their tiny car. I can only credit the Balkan resourcefulness encoded in their DNA. I never told them how much I loved the theater, or how I spent many a Friday night as an undergraduate thousands of miles away at Ohio State, watching my friend Nataša from Sarajevo conduct choirs as part of the requirements for her Master's Degree. I never told them how I bonded with Nataša, Igor, Bojan, Ljilja, Sadrija, Milena, and Bane over those concerts or drinks in the basement of the former Bernie's Distillery on High Street. I never told them how I consider these people lifelong friends, the kind of friends where it doesn't matter if we haven't seen each other for ten minutes, or ten years.

Maybe it's something they just knew. Even if they couldn't explain why.

If you ask me today what the performance we saw that night was about, you'll be waiting a long time for a response. I have no earthly idea. What I do remember is how I felt. For the briefest of moments, I felt normal again. Thousands of miles from home, my family, and a life I'd left behind, I might as well have been in Weigel Hall on the Ohio State campus.

These days, both Marija and Kristina are married. I'll see photos of their growing children on Facebook from time to time, or pictures of the Janjić family on vacation at the beach almost every summer. Their mother has a penchant for big sunglasses and a smile that never leaves her face. Their father never seems to age.

When the children are older, I wonder if their parents and grandparents will tell them the story the night they performed a random act of kindness for a twentysomething American who was down, but not out, and how much that random act of kindness meant to him. I'd hope the story would be a teaching point about the power of kindness, whether one is cheering in the theater, or the stadium after Croatia finished second in the World Cup, or above the tennis court after Serbia's Novak Đoković won his fourth Wimbledon title.

The Janjić family made themselves a lifelong friend that night.

That's something I just know. Even if I can't explain why.    

[271-recs-blog]

Interview with Mike from Not Like You

Hello, Mike! Friends here wanna know about you. Would you tell us about you?

I grew up on the East Coast of the US in New Jersey. Got into punk and skateboarding at a young age. Starting going to shows in 1987. Was lucky to experience NY, NJ and CT Hardcore at a very instrumental stage and see so many bands people only wish they could have seen. I moved to New Mexico in 1996 and have lived here ever since. I have done fanzines on and off since 1985. I have helped book shows, worked at a record label (Gern Blandsten), owned record stores, put out records and tried to give a little back to the scene which has given so much to me for so many years.

Why do you choose Not Like You as the named of your Fanzine and Label Record?

I wanted to find a name that would convey what I was all about. To create a home for the misfits, punks, skaters and everyone else who just didn’t fit into the norms of conventional society. I’d grown frustrated and tired with cliques in the scene. I got into punk because it was a home for the outcasts, not somewhere else with a “cool group” and outsiders. I wanted to breathe that back into everything I was doing. No rules, no cool kids, just a home for everyone with an open mind and an open heart. The name comes from the Underdog song “Not Like You” which has been a favorite of mine since their 7” came out back in the 80s. Not Like You is for everyone with the courage to stand apart from the popular crowd even if it meant standing alone.

NLY could be this high, who inspires you?

I have been inspired by so many people. From every band I work with, to my friends who skate, to people have kept the torches burning all these years keeping the true ideals of what made punk and hardcore what it is. Labels who continue to put out records and support the scene thru their efforts. I could go on and on. I guess honestly you could say I am constantly inspired by some aspect of the scene and people involved with it.

You released 6 issues and 16 records, what makes you consistense until now?

It is a lot of work to do each issue and to put out each record. I do it because I love it. The zine is my way to stay connected to things while living in a place with a much smaller scene. Where I grew up there were always shows and always things going on. Out here you learn not to take them for granted because it may not happen again. So I began the zine as a way to reconnect with something that was such a big part of my life but I felt so removed from being here. The label began as an idea between myself and long-time friend Tony Rettman (author of NYHC book, Why Be Something That You’re Not, and an upcoming book on Straight Edge). We both had so much going on and he was working on the NYHC book then and didn’t have the time to dedicate to a label so I decided to do it on my own. I’ve been very lucky to work with some great bands and to keep finding others to work with. Luckily my day job allows me the time and freedom to work on these other projects. If I had the money I would put out more records, faster but all the money the label makes gets recycled into new projects and that’s how I fund them.

In your photo zine, you dedicated to one of your favorite photographer who wants you to always taking photos. Share to Indonesian friends about that?

I was at a Fugazi show in Hoboken NJ and photographer Glen E Friedman was there, unbeknownst to me at the time. I grew up a fan of his from his My Rules photo zine and his photos in other zines and on albums. Well I shot pictures of Fugazi that night and only had 2 rolls of film which I went thru pretty fast. I stopped and was about to put my camera in my bag when a hand came out of nowhere and handed me 2 rolls of film and said “Keep shooting” I looked up and it was Glen. I was blown away but I took the man’s advice and kept shooting. Here I am about 25 years later still shooting pictures. It’s always an incredible blessing when the people you look up to or admire in any aspect of life turn out to be supportive of you and what you do. I never forgot that night and it became the dedication to the “Photo Issue” of Not Like You

You released Impact EP titled Worlds Apart. Why did you choose them to be NLY’s 11th records?

I heard Impact’s Demo and knew I wanted to work with them. I got in touch with the band explained who I was and what I did and that I wanted to work together and that was it. We agreed to release their “World’s Apart” 7”. It became the 11th release by mere coincidence. It takes time to get masters ready and do cover art etc so when Impact was ready to go it was NLY-011.

What criterias in choosing band to be released? Is there any requirement to join NLY?

I made a promise to myself from the beginning that Not Like You would release whatever bands I enjoyed. It wasn’t about being the cool guy, or fitting into some niche in the scene. Not Like You is just bands and people who make music that I really enjoy and am inspired. No rules just I like your band and I’d love to work together. Keep it simple!

Since NLY formed, do you find any obstacles on it?

YES and I could talk about this all day. For the zine the hardest part is getting people who commit to interviews to finish them. If you have seen the zine then you know I try to do lengthy interviews that go deeper than surface topics and make for a more interesting read. Sometimes people say they will do interviews I spend the time to come up with 25 or 30 really good questions only to have them never do the interview. I have a couple that are coming up on almost 3 years with still no completed interview even though they told me more than a few times it was in the works. That’s hard and can be frustrating. But at the same time look at all the amazing people I have interviewed who have taken the time and have given me some incredible interviews. For the label, it’s a constant battle of financing. Putting records out is expensive. Even 7”s are so expensive. Plus distributors take less records and are slower to pay. It’s just the way music has become. Less people buy records, its so easy to find free music or whatever the case. So I find myself constantly trying to get the financing for new projects together. I’m working on a few projects right now that are in various stages of completion that I’m hoping some checks from distributors will be in by the time they are ready to head to the pressing plant.

A bit about politic, America has chosen a new President, yes, Trump. What’s your opinion?

Honestly I hate that we grow up being told we live in a Democracy because it isn’t. This election was the lesser of 2 evils (In my eyes both extremely evil). I expected to wake up the morning after the election and be extremely pissed off at who my president was but I didn’t expect to wake up and have it be Trump. Already there is so much negativity and violence and racism stemming from his appointment, it’s sad and disgusting. I really don’t know what the future holds for the US. This is something we have talked about a lot since waking up and finding the news. I could go on and on about how prior to the election Trump was the complete opposite of all the things he said during his campaign. Does he really believe those things? Did he say them to get elected? I don’t know. I do know that Rain Like The Sound of Trains sang “Lesser of 2 evils still evil to me..” I don’t believe this is a system of the people by the people and for the people. It is rules by corporate interests and the very elite ruling class.

In 2017, how many EP will you release? And what bands?

I don’t know how many releases will come out in 2017. A lot of it depends on the bands recording and when things are ready but we have 7”s planned with Concrete Criminals, Slam, King Face, Spit It Out,Enuf, Shock Treatment and a few surprises. There are also LP’s planned with Nine Lives, Frontside Five, Odd Man Out (the old skate rock band), Clay Wheels, Against the Wall discography, Minus One, and Vicious Circle. Also a couple unannounced compilations and reissue projects too.

Tell us a bit about New Mexico hardcore scene!

I live in Albuquerque. It’s a very small scene. It has some very shining moments of local bands and cool all ages spaces, which unfortunately often disappear as fast as they happen. There are always kids getting into it and always new things going on. Unfortunately due to where we are on the map we often get overlooked by bands on tour. I hope to do more to change that in the coming years too.

What are your favorite bands? Give us 3 bands and why do you love them?

The Cro-Mags When I first heard their demo and The Age of Quarrel it changed me forever. It opened my eyes to the world at large, to spirituality and so much more

Underdog Such an incredible band to see live and I loved how in your face they were. There’s a reason we are called ”Not Like You” They pulled no punches and called it like it is. They have been a favorite of mine for almost 30 years.

Avail From the first time I heard Satiate I was hooked. I have been up and down the east coast following them, and even got to do some California dates with them while they were out there in 1994. I have never seen a band live as many times as I have Avail and if I could see them 30 more times it still wouldn’t be enough

Do you know anything about Indonesia? Are there any Indonesian Bands you’ve ever heard?

Most of what I know of your country is based around spirituality. I would love to learn about some of the bands from there

A message to all Hardcore Scene in the world!

Hardcore is the one thing that breaks down so many barriers and can unite people around the world who come from different backgrounds and have never met. Don’t ever let someone’s “rules’ dictate what hardcore means to you. “Do what you want and how you want it, if it feels right go out and do it” as the Cro-Mags once said.  And I will leave you with this little tidbit from Void “Why should I listen to those fools, I’m gonna live by my rules”  Keep making zines, making music and supporting your scene.

Thank you Mike! NLY Rules!!!

Thanks so much for the interview. It’s an honor to speak to our friends across the  globe!