#this AU really lends itself well to this

[autisticaradiamegido]

day 251

so like remember when i said i was gonna be mentally ill about utena

[stormlit]

❝ do they have cards, where you're from? ❞ they are both at camp today and ylfa is bored, the wolf pacing inside her as it begs to be let free from its cage, to be able to fight and kill some bad guys. it is no longer a separate being to her, no longer something distinct — the wolf wants to fight and so too does ylfa, the monster a part of her now. and so she decides that distraction is key, sitting down beside lucy with a deck of cards. ❝ i played a lot with my grandma. she said that gambling's wrong but it doesn't count when you're playing gin. or using sugar cubes instead of coppers. do you want to play? ❞

@atomiqueen liked for a starter

[smallblueandloud]

me thinking "damn, i'm bummed that i couldn't slip in some more obvious references to the DS9 polycule in today's fic" has gotten me started on thinking about a DS9 modern au (in its most polyamorous form, of course) and now i'm--

what's the best way to have all of these people know each other?? like i think modern military fundamentally Does Not Work for them (and is also not what i want to write for them). i know deep dish nine exists but restauranting doesn't super apply to me either.

honestly i'm leaning towards just having them know each other in disconnected ways (so like, jadzia and sisko know each other through curzon, but sisko met kira at work, julian is new at jadzia's job, miles and keiko live next door to julian..... for example). but that also sounds overly elaborate and doesn't really explain how they ALL know each other?

do people have thoughts on DS9 modern aus?

[cassierobinsons]

YES. omg beat sheet cas IS allistic that's what always seemed so off about him to me. The dean stuff is fun to read but cas and canon cas have the same name and that's basically all they have in common personality wise

eugh... but tbf to beat sheet it isn't the first fanfic to make AU cas allistic and it won't be the last 😔

[rotisseries]

OH MY GOD and ganon? like what’s his deal

ok so. again the more recent games don't have much ganon (of the 4 I've played, only totk has ganondorf, the man, and he's not super important story wise beyond being a guy to fight. botw's enemy is ganon, as a miasma creature of hatred, and skyward sword's enemy is demise, who is not ganon. technically. and then link's awakening is not a standard zelda plot. so no ganon) the older games have more ganon, so I'm working with largely secondhand knowledge, but basically... nintendo will not give this man any sort of depth. he has some? in windwaker? to my understanding, i have not finished that one. but windwaker takes place in a hyrule that's been flooded and ganon always has a really long lifespan so he was there when it flooded and his people were suffering and he was trying to protect them idk the specifics and I don’t know how well done it is but it's there. and then in the rest of the games he's just evil for the sake of being evil?? which, if meant to be because he holds the triforce of power is dumb, because if there's three pieces of something the logical story conclusion isn't that one is automatically bad it's that all three should join in harmony. duh. they won't give him a real motivation for evil beyond conquering for conquering's sake, so if he HAS to be evil I think it'd be more interesting if they made him a victim of demise's curse? like, demise's curse demands a vessel for evil, if hylia's descendant always has the triforce of wisdom and her champion always has the triforce of courage, it'd make sense for demise to take the third piece, the holder of power. so like what if. this guy was just trying to be a good person, a good leader, but knowing from history books, from every ganondorf that has come before, and the triangle in the center of your hand, that you are predestined for evil, that hylia's vessel and her champion will cut you down one day. imagine fighting it. imagine being unable to. I JUST THINK IT COULD BE REALLY FUCKED UP. (also imagine a ganon who is on good terms with zelda and link. imagine having to be cut down by your friends. imagine having to cut down your friend)

the real world reason they won't give him any depth though is racism most likely. so. ganon looks like this in ocarina of time (his first appearance as a man, prior games ganon was just a creature again)

I'm sure you already know what zelda and link look like. he's from a desert tribe called the gerudo (a race of all women btw ganon is the only man they have one man born every hundred years they make him king) who are, in oot, referred to as a tribe of bandits and whatnot they just steal and attack you, so it's like. it's pretty obvious what's going on here, and the gerudo are characterized better in botw although their character design is still very orentalist which is an issue that doesn't really show through THIS ganon's design but IS an issue I promise go look up the gerudo women it's the jasmine in aladdin thing all over again. anyway. so. nintendo this man could be so cool and interesting PLEASEEEEEEE

[roselightfairy]

Six-Sentence Sunday

From the ongoing fic! This is a bit from the next chapter I will post (probably tomorrow).

“You didn’t respond to my message,” was Qui-Gon’s greeting to him when the door slid open.

Obi-Wan grinned despite himself, sudden and wide enough to make his jaw ache. “You clearly stated that my silence would serve as assent.”

Qui-Gon smiled back, and one of his hands landed on Obi-Wan’s shoulder, heavy and solid, a welcoming clasp that spoke more than any words ever would. It was a gesture that would not have looked out of place on any master and apprentice, but this one had come to be theirs; Obi-Wan had strained against more expressive displays of physical affection in his youth, and so the reassuring grasp of shoulder or arm had become their compromise, Qui-Gon’s expression of affection or concern or comfort in a way Obi-Wan was willing to accept.

It made him feel more loved than he could ever admit, though today he found himself also admitting – somewhere deeper than he could ever acknowledge aloud – that he would have welcomed a greeting embrace.

[anika-ann]

The (Un)Expected - S.R.

Type: one-shot, soulmate AU, good ol' meet-cute (soulmates meeting for the first time prompt)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader   Word Count: 8k

Summary: 

A soulmark shows the first words your soulmate will speak to you. A soulmark tells you there is the person for you out there. A soulmark tells you what to expect.

For that, Steve’s is a source of comfort and anxiety to him. You always had a complicated relationship with yours.

But maybe they will teach you a lesson in the end – that the only thing one should really expect, is the unexpected.

Warnings: brief angst, mention of cancer (not reader), canon-typical violence, mention of death (no major character), blood and injuries, language, FLUFF so take it easy on sugar before reading

A/N: written for the Community Revival Extravaganza hosted by the wonderful @stargazingfangirl18 and @labella420 . Thank you both so much for hosting and stirring life in the fandom! I loved seeing the traffic and positivity on my dash - you're doing god's work 💕

A/N 2: DIVIDER by @firefly-graphics; enjoy y'all 🥰

Steve Rogers was a sickly child.

He spent too much time to his liking in his bed – and even more time outside of it despite feeling sick for he couldn’t bear resting anymore, craving to explore the world instead – and was sneaked into a doctor’s office by his mother quite often as well. She only got him in as a favour, courtesy of her own good name – a nurse working double shifts and lending a helping hand wherever she could, a single mother working herself to a bone to take care of and set example to her only son.

A single mother, a nurse, a good person – a beautiful soul. She left this world too soon, but she left an imprint on Steve’s heart larger than any other person, perhaps besides Bucky, ever could.

All that told him, even as indirectly, that his soulmate would be one special dame. She would be kind, she would be brilliant and for that alone, he knew she would be beautiful.

Steve knew that as soon as he could read, as soon as he could decipher the words on his skinny forearm.

In a world where first words your soulmate would tell you were laced into your skin for you and your soulmate’s eyes to see only, his words told him his soulmate was a little miracle.

'I’m not a doctor yet.'

Steve had spent a fair amount of time around nurses and doctors to know that all nurses were women and the overwhelming majority of doctors were men – by the time he was ten, barely a few women were allowed to attend medical schools, let alone graduate. But you, you would be on your way to reach that. Brilliant. Driven. Desiring to help people, to heal.

It was only when other children, other guys and girls alike, began laughing at him for being too little, too weak, too bony, when his heart began to ache for a different reason than illness. If you were to be all these amazing things he had dreamed of, what were you to do with a sickly fella like him? With your words to him being these, it was a fair assumption to make that you would meet due to his health issues, perhaps a smart dame taken under a more experienced doctor’s wing during your studies. How disappointed you would be when your soulmate, the one person meant for you and chosen by destiny itself, would be… that?

That upsetting idea haunted him, hurting more than the bruises that had formed under fists of bullies Steve kept trying to save those even weaker than him from, more than stick and stones and words alike.

Then again… there was a little silver of hope in his heart, a little shy voice in his head. If you were to be his true love, then certainly you’d accept him, yes? If he tried, if he tried hard enough to be a good man, the best possible version of himself, if he worked hard to protect and feed his future family, set a good example for your future children as his mother had, worked towards making a better world, you’d accept him? If he could live with not being as great as others but never stopped trying, you would respect him and perhaps even loved him for what he was?

Then, of course, war came and those thoughts were pushed aside.

Then, he grabbed at his chance to fight that war, to do his part, to help – and incidentally, he also earned his chance to literally grow. Healthy. Strong. More worthy; but remaining good, because that was the one part of him he wanted to hold on to no matter what, that one part he would wish his love, wherever she was, would love him for, even if he suddenly shrank back into the back of skin and bones he used to be.

Then, he lost his best friend Turned into a failure.

And then… then he died.

One of his last thoughts were of you, a beautiful woman with vague appearance but strikingly kind heart and sharp mind. He prayed you’d get a new soulmate somehow, even as those cases weren’t heard of. He prayed you’d live a happy healthy life without him, at least as good as he would have tried his best to give you, to build with you, even as his own heart was breaking to pieces, regret veiling his body as water and snow and icy wind would, regret for missing his chance to meet the most special person in his world.

When he closed his eyes and still saw the white of ice and the blue of the deep sea, he’d swear he saw your face, crystal clear, for the first time – and the last time – in his life.

Seeing you, a stunning mirage, his last thought was that you were an angel gently leading him into afterlife.

When he woke up to a new millennium, one of the first things he did was checking his forearm; he words still sat there, taunting, mocking and heartbreaking, another screaming reminder of him not belonging here.

As years passed by, the sense of alienation subdued. Steve Rogers learned to belong, even as a piece of his heart was missing, longing for the past life – and the life he had never got to have – always humming in his chest quietly.

The mark on his forearm remained, a sad memento to a soulmate he had never met, turning him into a martyr.

But many people had rejected the idea of soulmates in this time, rebelling against their so-called fate, taking off on a path of searching love on their own. Steve learned they did so for various reasons – a sense of adventure before they’d truly find their one true love, a quest to choose the fortune and love on their own terms, a fuck-you to the universe when their soulmate turned out to be less than they imagined and hoped.

His own reasons, as he reluctantly started to look for a person to share his life with, were rather unique, but no one looked at him through their fingers for that. If anything, those who cared about him encouraged him, wishing for his happiness.

It was only when he got Bucky back – one of his greatest regrets not erased, not lessened since Bucky had endured unimaginable pain, but transformed, a piece of Steve’s past brought back to life – that he began to wonder about the almost blasphemous thought he had forbid himself from entertaining when he had been first brought back to life from ice.

Were you still there somewhere?

And then, a shier thought:

Is there still a chance for me to find my true soulmate?

And then, the shiest one of them all:

Is there a chance for me to find happiness with you?

When he had thought of that before, he was certain that since you were still alive – he had read reports of people claiming their soulmark changed colours if their loved one died – he had thought of you as an old lady who had hopefully lived her life as he had genuinely wished for her.

But what if fate, that little minx who had taken his best friend for life from him only to give him back, had somehow blessed Steve with a soulmark decades before you were even born? What he hadn’t lost his chance, what if you were still young enough to build a life with him? Was that even possible? There were aliens, flying suits of armour, other realms, downright magical weapons… he had been given a second chance at life. There were things happening Steve would have never thought possible before. So was there a chance…?

The idea of you being a doctor became much more plausible too – in this century, female doctors were a much more common occurrence. That, naturally, did not diminish your brilliance whatsoever, the fundamental idea of who you’d be never changing in Steve’s mind. The image only became less surreal in one way and a whole lot more surreal in another.

For his own sake, he didn’t give in into that hope fully; at least he told himself that despite lying awake at night, a ghost of a woman he had never met lying next to him, radiating non-existent warmth he wished with his whole being he could touch.

He wasn’t chasing after the ghost, didn’t allow himself that – there was no way to do so to his knowledge anyway – for the chances of success were rather slim.

But there was always hope, wasn’t there?

And the longing for love, whether it was in the hands of fate or in his own to find it, remained, built into his very body; etched into his bones, flowing through his veins, laced into his skin beyond the words on his forearm, always humming quietly in his heart.

In the age of information and science, the concept of having your ideal partner for life chosen by some mysterious abstract entity called Fate was literally otherworldly. Alien. Absurd even.

And yet, it still ruled the lives of many.

Which, in all honesty, was almost even more fascinating than the existence of soulmarks itself – the belief people had for them despite being no logic to them at all.

Perhaps it was the little piece of human soul, an inner child people so desperately wanted to cling to for its own beauty and purity, a child who never wanted to stop believing in magic, fate, dragons, mighty knights and kind-hearted ladies, in all things of fairytales and happy-endings the most. Because to a point, that was what soulmarks were – and little fairytale-like book of destiny.

One that not even science seemed capable of beating.

And you should know; you were somewhat of a scientist yourself. And despite how unfathomable the nature of soulmates was, you could not say that you rejected the idea of them, of someone who was born to belong with you, someone you could share your life with, the right partner in the crime of life. Basic bodily needs aside, wasn’t that the most fundamental need of all? To love and be loved; to belong?

Who wouldn’t wish for that reassurance that they could have that, that some strange force of universe itself created a person like that for them? They were the god’s strongest soldiers you supposed; because you were certainly not immune to that tempting comfort.

But you weren’t obsessed – and you prided yourself in the fact. Mostly because the sheer fanaticism of the world over soulmarks, the one thing that kept defying science – besides alien portals, magical blue cubes, demigods walking the Earth and things alike – was dialled up ad absurdum.

There could be billions of dollars poured into research of curing cancer. Cure autoimmune diseases. Helping the homeless. Slowing down global warming. Erasing poverty and famine. Protecting nature, endangered species. Discovering new worlds, exploring space.

But no. Governments poured billions of dollars into researching soulmarks. How was it they existed? How was it you could cut through skin, you could cut off skin and the mark would reappear somewhere else? What was the grand scheme of them? Why was it that only two people who belonged together could see them and the person speaking the words could only see it on their soulmate’s skin after they spoke the words, almost like a fail-safe that couldn’t seem to be broken with any tricks?

It wasn’t a question of physics as far as people knew; they had tried to build sets-up of various optics, thermovision cameras and complex sets of lenses and mirrors, and none of the reports you had ever heard of claimed success. It wasn’t genetic markers either; no one had discovered a sequence of DNA responsible for soulmarks, let alone turned whatever discovery they would have made into a tool of reading anyone’s but their own and their soulmate’s mark. It didn’t seem to be chemistry either; no one had made a groundbreaking discovery or at least they hadn’t informed the scientific or any other community so far.

But by gods, forget the space race. Attempting to be the first one to somehow read everyone’s soulmark and then create an algorithm to monetize it as the one and only soulmate dating app, now that was a competition overflowing with cutthroat madmen. Not to mention the crowds looking to temper with soulmarks, to make another one appear on someone’s body; or worse, to erase the original soulmark and instead design one capable of manipulating the outcome of a soulmate match.

You found the force of that obsession insane – and frankly, all the attempts morally wrong. While dedicated to science and loyal to discovery, you found soulmarks to be something sacred, one of the things that should not be touched by filthy human hands; god knew humanity, while doing a lot of good, had mucked up about just as much.

You were not alone in that belief. There were, in fact, numerous demonstrations against scientists experimenting with soulmarks, people protesting against anyone creating such tool and using it to temper with natural course of things no one fully understood, not for the lack of trying. However – as expected everywhere where politics and money were involved – these protests were in vain.

They were as vain and futile as the research of the marks itself.

As for your own soulmark, you had a rather complicated relationship with it.

On one hand, it gave you a sense of peace – there was someone for you, even as sometimes it did not feel plausible at all. You had time too – because based on those words, you would not meet your soulmate until in your twenties at least. You had plenty of time to become who you were meant to be before a man could turn your life upside down, even as that was not supposed to be what soulmates did, at least not in a bad sense of the word.  

On the other hand, it was a ball and chain. You would not find you soulmate sooner than in your twenties and sometimes, you missed them despite not having met yet. When imagining what your meeting could be like based on their first words etched into your skin, you feared they might be a little disappointed – even as you did not let that stop you from pursuing the life you wanted. And despite you wanting to choose the career either way, it felt like someone – be it god, fate or another cosmic entity humanity was yet to discover – had chosen the path for you the moment you had been born if not before.

'Doctor, are you alright?'

Four simple words that couldn’t be more ordinary and yet extraordinary for they represented one of the most meaningful encounters of your life. The source of as much comfort as anxiety.

You couldn’t stand hospitals ever since you were a child. The cold environment reminded you of the strange icy feeling that had settled in your chest over the months you had been visiting your dying father, your naïve eyes watching cancer bite off his energy and smiles first, before it swallowed his whole body and soul. He had been a ghost long before he passed; and in your mind, despite all rationality even years after, that ghost haunted any hospital you visited.

Learning what your soulmark was as a child, you had spent countless nights crying, soul torn into pieces, pushed and pulled between the visceral desire to live up to your soulmark and the crippling nausea at the mere thought of dealing with people drowned in misery caused by any illness in the cold institution they called a hospital.

However, the curious kid you had been, you had fallen in love with science itself.

And that one day at school, when a classmate of yours had brought their father to the class to talk about his job as a doctor, you had burst into tears. You began to sob in the middle of him explaining to third-graders that he was not a medical doctor, but a physicist with a doctorate earning him the degree of a doctor as well. You remembered your teacher leading you outside of class, concerned and absolutely baffled, trying to sooth you helplessly even as you were completely inconsolable – because you did not need consolation.

You were crying the happiest, most relieved tears of your life.

You could still be a ‘doctor’. And you genuinely wanted to be one, not just because of what your soulmark read. You had always wished to help people indirectly, even as you looked back at your life now. Sure, your soulmark could have been adding fuel to your drive when your motivation had been running low, but this was who you desired and was meant to become.

A molecular biologist. A doctor in making. Researching the effects of medicinal drugs with hopes to improve them.

A scientist not researching soulmarks, thank you very much.

And yes, there was the lingering feeling of missing a person you hadn’t even met yet – especially when Doctor Simmons’ face lit up like fluorodeoxyglucose in PET scans whenever she saw Doctor Fitz – but you had other things to focus on. And you had time. There was no pressure.

You were not a doctor yet, after all.

Naturally, just because you dodged the joys and sorrows of being a medical student and later on, a medical doctor, it did not mean that you had it easy. No one working on their doctorate did. But when you decided to pursue your degree and work in research, you signed up for that.

You signed up for a lot of things.

It was a little peculiar for you to be on the SHIELD campus in the science division without a doctorate. It was a known fact that SHIELD only recruited best of the best, this Science ad Technology in particular: you needed at least one doctorate to even walk through the door, which was something you were reminded a lot because you did not meet that requirement and here you were.

But SHELD owned the best equipment and you were fortunate enough to get in by the lovely game of fate, being good and driven enough and having met the right people at the right time. SHIELD Academy’s Science & Tech division had the unique equipment you often needed for your research. Your research was interesting enough for people who had perhaps more power over your little life than fate itself. Stars aligned.

It was no walk in a parc, but you were no fool; jumping after that opportunity after having one too many doors shut into your face was a no-brainer. Even though it meant signing up for a whole extra load of shit.

You signed up to be the weird girl. The privileged girl. Hell, even the stupider than local average girl, because you were only an engineer at this point.

You signed up for being the young girl, even as you had met a few people there who had started younger, having actually earned their first PhD at age 17 or less.

You signed up for mockery and misogyny, for as you were aware the level was blissfully low here compared to other workplaces, especially where science was concerned; in exact science, you observed, more than anywhere you ever heard of, it was customary to keep that one insufferable employee, because they were simply that good at their job, no matter that they had cost the department a few other employees.

You signed up for living on campus with other SHIELD recruits, which meant living in close quarters with other divisions; as a result, some days the whole area seemed to swim in testosterone emitted by the hulking special agents in making from Operations.  

But that was okay. You could do it.

There were bright sides too, many of them. Like pursuing your dream career. Being among like-minded people whose brain, to a large point, ran on the same wavelength. Hooking up with a handsome but notbrainless recruit from Operations or Communication here and there, some flings, some relationships, because if you were to wait for the love of your life, you might as well not wither completely. You were only human and you had needs along with your lifegoals.

You more than willingly signed up for working with Agent slash Doctor Jemma Simmons.  With her two PhDs and rich experience from the field, she had left the action behind in order to work on her third PhD and help humanity without having her life on the line every day. She was hard-working, with no-nonsense approach and lovely sense of humour with plenty of stories to back it up; she was overall pleasant person to work and be friends with and despite having been through amazing and terrifying experiences other people couldn’t even imagine, she remained surprisingly down-to-Earth.

Sure, she had her quirks like insisting on having a gun at hand at all times and stashing a few small vials of altered Molotov cocktail, a mixture of chemicals which would ignite upon the vial breaking, in one of the nearby cabinets – but you supposed there were worst things to get used to than that in a coworker or a friend. She used to be an active agent after all; in fact, unofficially, she remained one. Much like anyone, you knew that certain habits died hard and being through what she had been – she confessed to you that she once spent months on a nearly deserted ancient planet, among other things – left a mark. If this made her feel safer, you’d take it.

Another great thing about Jemma, Doctor Simmons, was that she was adorably English and was in dedicated relationship with Doctor Fitz who was a Scotsman, so that was the spice of long workdays at times; especially if you agreed to play Scrabble with them and a few friends in the evening.

But there were things you had not signed up for when following the alluring promise of a prestigious spot and unique equipment.

And one of them was a damn Nazi revival group in the form of fucking HYDRA attacking the lab while you were in the peaceful process of waiting for your PCR to finally be finished.

Influx of men in full tactical gear interrupting Jemma updating you the vacation plans, Fiji and all the rare species of fishes that could be observed there when scuba diving.

When you heard the first shouts, breaking of glass and dull echoes of gunshots from afar, your immediate thought was that you had been having a good day and that the experiment had been coming along nicely – and that whatever mess was happening was for sure about to ruin all your progress.

By the time panic settled in, Jemma was practically tackling you down, hand over your mouth to muffle your startled squeak at the sudden movement, her eyes alert and serious, screaming at you to keep quiet.

The sickening shouts of HAIL HYDRA, COOPERATE AND YOU’LL GET HURT LESS was what sent your brain crashing into reality; that and the distant agonized cries of people, coworkers and recruits you knew and met in the hallways every day, following the sounds of gunshots growing in volume and frequency.

You could hear Jemma shuffling next to you further.

You yourself were unable to move beyond stifling a cry behind your suddenly sweaty palm as another female voice wailed in pain.

Blood seemed to freeze in your veins despite your heart thundering in your ribcage and your temples and it helped you shit at all that you were aware that was such thing was literally impossible. By the time Jemma’s hand grabbed yours again and squeezed hard, you realized you were shaking – half in anger, half in paralyzing fear, half in utter shock. It didn’t matter it didn’t add up.

What mattered was the gun in Jemma’s hand. She was holding a gun, ready to shoot, because there were enemy agents, fucking HYDRA burst through the door, guns blazing. And killing people.

You were whispering with exasperation worth of a shout before you knew what you were doing.

��Why?! Why the fuck-“

“Probably the samples they brought in today, precious cargo,” Jemma whispered back frantically, loading the gun and reaching into another cabinet behind her. You only stared at her in utter confusion and mute horror, rapid heavy footsteps approaching and sending your already racing heart into a madness. “Gun or cocktails?”

“I can’t shoot a-!”

Before you could finish, the familiar sound of the sliding door opening and a horrifying echo of tactical boots reached your ears, a set of vials pressed into your palm.

You gulped, pulse thundering in your temples.

Those goddamn Simmons’ cocktails as you named them since she had insisted on keeping around.

You couldn’t believe the moment was here that you were actually grateful for them, even as they seemed to burn in your hand even with the vials themselves intact.

Your eyes snapped to Jemma’s face to question it wordlessly at least, but she wasn’t looking at you; she was listening intently, lying in wake as if she was the predator and not the prey you felt like.

Your own breathing seemed too loud as you allowed yourself to squeeze your eyes shut for but a moment, a desperate attempt to wake up from the nightmare; but the morning didn’t come.

Instead, a gunshot rang in the room, glass shattering somewhere above your head to your right, sending a waterfall of shards flying next to you.

And causing you to cry out in fright.

Which revealed your position to the agents flowing into the lab.

Without a thought you snapped your eyes opened, jumped to your feet and threw two vials in the direction of a black blur with a shockingly clear red patch of the mythical Hydra monster in the middle; peripherally, you saw Jemma attacking as well, deafening noise of gunshot nearly blowing your eardrum.

You crouched back behind the counter so fast you felt vertigo swing you to the left, sharp pain erupting from your palm. It was pure miracle your right hand didn’t clench in instinct and shatter the two remaining vials, setting yourself on fire as well.

As well.

Someone was screaming – a man, you realized – the acid smell of burned flesh and plastic and various chemicals punching your nose and your stomach hard. You had hit someone with the vial. They screamed because of what you had done. You had-

You had no time to feel sorry. You had no time to properly think fucking serves them right.

More steps, more gunshots, movements you weren’t sure how happened or came to you in the first place, flashes of light and crimson and noise and godawful smell--- and pain erupting in the back of your head and suddenly you were barely catching yourself on the counter with your slippery palm--- your fingers brushed metal, knees weak but hands grabbing with all your might, lifting and swinging, a sickening crack on your right before you were falling, landing on your wrist, back hitting the cabinet door and making even more noise as you sent equipment clattering around.

However, the loudest sound was another gunshot; but the strangest sound was unfamiliar whizzing and metal hitting metal and someone most definitely shouting “clear!” that sounded as distant as a whisper over the ringing in your ears.

Instinctively, your head snapped to the voice as you tried to prop up on your hands to see; the world swam in front of your eyes, dizziness forcing you to fall back on your ass and squeeze your eyes shut in hopes to stop the world from spinning, a sting in your palm drawing a hiss from your lips.

You could hear Jemma’s talking to someone, her words blurred into a mumble despite her voice sounding firm and methodical; footsteps, quick and heavy but somewhat soft, accompanied by a brush of air against your skin, making you open your eyes again just as navy blue with speckles of silvery grey glinting in a flickering light filled your vision.

Then, a face; an extremely handsome face even as a helmet made of blue similar to the rest of his suit covered the upper half of it, framing a pair of the dreamiest blue eyes you had ever seen, as beautiful as blurry as a dream indeed.

Somewhere in the back of your brain it started clicking into place – that the man in front of you looked a whole lot like Captain America and he was there to kick HYDRA’s ass; he was hunk and looked righteous and unfairly pretty, the cut of his jaw sharp enough to appear as if sculpted by ancient masters of art and it might be softened by the leather strap holding his helmet in place but that only brought out the sheer beauty of his lips even with a small bloody split on them.

And he was talking to you, his leather-clad hand gently grasping your arm as you involuntarily swayed to side when moving your head to take in the entirety of his large figure.

“Doctor, are you alright?” he asked slowly, velvety voice sweet and heavy with concern at once, the gentle but firm hold on your arm growing stronger when you blinked owlishly, the connection between the meaning of his words and his apparent intention to talk to you slow and fragile.

Your tongue felt as if made of lead even as it tasted of bitterness of adrenalin, but you willed yourself to answer, a knee-jerk reaction more than anything else.

“’mm… not a doctor yet.”

As you responded, you brain began to clear; and it occurred to you that it was a fair assumption for him to make.

You had grown used to clarifying, but hadn’t done so in months, because everyone already knew. However, he was an outsider to this lab and he couldn’t know you were the exception to the local rule. And you were wearing a lab coat, one that now had to be covered in mixture of chemicals you did not wish to identify, but perhaps you should try, because your forearm was beginning to burn.

The beautiful man kneeling in front of you silently observed you for what seemed like an eternity and half, surprise written all over his face. You couldn’t blame him; you were the weirdo of the lab. The fact the person who had purposely stacked explosives at hand was less of an anomaly than that was a thing to consider, but your head hurt too much to think about that and your heart was still beating unhealthily fast and his error seemed so insignificant in the grand scheme of things of HYDRA having attacked your lab and Captain America being right in front of you, holding onto your arm.

His soft baffled smile as he hung his head and shook it a bit with a breathless chuckle, and then lifted his downright shining gaze back to you, well that certainly made for a spectacular distraction from such unimportant thoughts.

Did his thumb just brush your arm as he still held you up a bit?

And had anyone ever told him he had a stunning smile that could melt hearts even if it was barely there and it was certainly melting yours?

“Apologies, miss. I’m going to help you get to medical, alright?” he suggested, those damn gorgeous eyes roaming your face with what almost seemed like wonder, even as his voice sounded all kinds of reassuring. “You’re safe now, I promise.”

Safe. You were safe. Because there had been HYDRA agents, but Captain America and actual SHIELD operatives had come to the rescue. And because Jemma was-

Jemma. Your straightened, dull ache pounding in your back as you did so, vision clearing a fraction with the sudden realization that you couldn’t hear your friend anymore. Your friend whom you owed your life very likely, but even if you didn’t, you would have-

You craned your neck over Captain America’s impressive frame, head snapping from left to right, nausea rising with the movement, but that didn’t matter, you had to-

You turned your alarmed gaze back to the man who was still holding you, an urgent question on your lips.

“Jemma? Is she--- Doctor Simmons, brunet, lab coat-“ you paused, realizing bitterly that you had just described half of the Science and Technology. “Female. She’s a doctor and an agent too, she was with me had a gu-“

A warm squeeze on your arm, the concern which had grown even more evident on Captain’s face melting away and giving way to a soothing smile.

“She’s alright. She’s already left to be checked up and to give her statement.”

Your shoulders sagged, your head dropping a bit; the violent vertigo that seized your body at that was not pleasant and you tried to blink it away, gaze catching the reflection of the still-blinking fluorescent lamp on the Captain’s shield.

Oh. That was probably what had made the whizzing sound before. As your brain conjured an image of that, a spinning shield flying through the air, you cursed yourself mentally for letting your mind even go there since you had already felt like you were the flying piece of metal and the thing you’d hit eventually would be the floor.

“My head is spinning,” you muttered absently as you attempted to refocus your gaze, praying to gods of religion and science alike you wouldn’t throw up on the poor caring man.

Why was he still sitting here with you? Surely there were much more important things to tend to than one little post-grad? How was he so kind and gentle? Wasn’t he known for inspiring speeches in a deep serious voice and for beating up villains with both his physical strength and brains?

So many questions and no answer in those pretty blue eyes.

In fact, the number of your questions grew exponentially when the hand on your arm released the pressure and gently rubbed your elbow instead; his free hand carefully cradled the back of your other hand, the contrast of leather and his warm skin surprisingly sensual, suddenly making you understand why so many regency era literature spoke of hand-holding as indecent even as it was barely Fifty Shades of Grey level of filth.  

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Captain Rogers said, snapping you from your thoughts. “Let me help you up and they’ll check you up too, including this nasty cut, okay?”

Huh?

Purposely slowly as not to make the vertigo worse, you glanced at your hand in his, feeling a fresh sting just by looking at your palm, your gaze instantly snapping away.

And falling straight onto two intact vials full of liquid of a distinct colour, lying carelessly about two feet away from Steve Rogers’ tactical boots. Your heart jumped in your chest, your hazy mind finally growing aware of your surroundings.

“Shoot! Careful around those, they’re highly flammable!” you warned him swiftly, his gaze snapping to the vials in question, while ours slowly trailed over the utter, utter messthe lab had become.

The sheer amount of broken glass, spilled chemicals, broken pipettes, torn papers and unidentifiable piles of junk was staggering and it was actually a miracle nothing had exploded yet – and as a cherry on top, a few feet away, a relatively small portable PCR machine, the very equipment you had been using, downright murdered along with your experiment and a smudge of blood around it. Jesus.

“Okay, that’s good to know. More the reason to get out,” Captain Rogers remarked, slight amusement lacing his voice, only growing stronger as he continued. “Keep a lot of these around?”

You could have scoffed, but you didn’t. You have no idea, pal.

“My friend is paranoid…” you explained, still staring at them, even as you mentally added ‘or not’, since those little things might have very well saved your life. As your gaze returned to Captain Rogers, your eyes caught on something else, having you sit up straighter in sheer horror. “Is that a stab wound?!”

You gulped at the sight, even as your uninjured hand instinctively reached out towards it – as if you could fix it. The already dark suit, a lovely navy blue, appeared downright black at left his side, right where it seemed to be singed by a flame.

Had that injury been there the whole damn time he had been sitting here with you, eternally patient with your slowed brain, Simmons’ cocktails lying around in one huge chemical dump in risk of exploding any damn minute?

You logically knew the answer had to be yes, but it made zero sense – and his answer made even less sense.

“Bullet, actually. Some sort of chemical damaged the Kevlar lining and they got a lucky hit. It’s just a graze.”

“A gra-“ you choked on the word, spit stuck in your throat causing you to cough and a groan escape past your lips as the sudden rapid movement sent your head pounding again.

“Hey, you-“

“You’ve been shot and you called my cut nasty?” you questioned through the tears, earning a smile worth giving up a career for – painfully warm, kind and… almost fond.

You truly must have hit your head hard.

…as if it hadn’t been evident before.

“I heal fast. You don’t need to worry about me. I’ll be alright, doc.”

A knee-jerk reaction – again. What was it with him? Had he hit his head, forgetting you had already explained – you had, you hadn’t imagined that, right? – and now he called you a doctor again, turned into a familiar nickname, no less.

“I’m not a doct---- holy shit.”

It slammed into you like a train, struck you like a lightning, even as neither of those things had ever happened to you – yet, you imagined it had to feel like this.

A massive force, a force of nature, realization as bright and as unexpected as a lightning from a clear sky.

Doctor, are you alright?

He had asked that. He had asked that. He had said your words. He had said your goddamn soulmate’s first words to you, what must have been minutes ago, and only now it hit you.

You were left staring at him with wide eyes, myriad of emotions written all over his face, including  slight amusement and what you had earlier inexplicably identified as fondness, because the reason why he was still sitting here with you – though perhaps that was what he always did when rescuing, what did you know, you didn’t, this was your first meeting, that was why he had said the words – was that unlike you, he had realized you were his soulmate right away.

He kept watching you, silently letting you process the crucial revelation, a tight but no less kind smile on his lips.

“You said my words,” you said oh so intelligently. “You--- what… what did I—say?”

It was perhaps the stupidest question of all you could have come up on the spot, but you genuinely couldn’t remember – and wanted to know what words he had been looking at his whole life.

…this part of life? Or before the ice too? How did he feel about that? How did he feel about you? Was he disappointed? He didn’t look like he was, but didn’t even know what you had said—

What you did know and remember was that you were supposed to be smart and yet it had taken you an eternity to even notice you were facing your soulmate you had been probably spewing complete nonsense, you were now stammering like an idiot and for someone who had been worried, always, even if in the back of their mind, if their soulmate would find them good enough, you were generally making a bloody awful first impression.

But seriously, what had been your first words-

“You said you weren’t a doctor yet,” Captain Rogers reminded you, voice soft with affection of someone who had imagined hearing those words at least as many times as you had wondered about yours, hoping they would be pronounced by someone who’d respect you and cared about what kind of person you were, and would hopefully, eventually care for you. Loved you even. The tender way the syllables rolled of his tongue, spoken as if they tasted of honey, nearly chased fresh tears to your eyes. Alright, perhaps your first impression hadn’t been as bad as it appeared in your – albeit injured – head.  “But if you really don’t remember saying that, that’s not a good sign. We need to get you medical attention. Come on. Hold on.”

Blinking slowly, still processing the light and yet suffocating feeling that found residence in your chest as it was starting to truly settle that this man, this painfully beautiful and criminally gentle man, was your soulmate, he was leaning closer to you, his hands guiding yours to wrap around his neck, a wordless order you had obediently followed, and then one of his arms was sliding under your knees and his other wrapping around the middle of your back.

And then your vertigo hit you anew because you were suddenly up in the air, hands gripping hard at anything you could reach – conveniently, the only thing was him, because he had lifted you upin his arms, some of your weight resting against his chest – despite the pain that shot up your left hand.

“Whoa-“ And then, because your memory did serve you at least a little: “You--- have been stabbed.”

“Shot,” he repeated patiently, fondly almost, and you did recall he had said that.

You recalled despite the scent of pleasant aftershave and peak man suddenly enveloping you as much as his arms and the firm armour – or perhaps that was the muscles underneath? And those pretty blue eyes were watching you with a glint of amusement and a surprising amount of affection for a guy saying he had been hit by a bullet, while effortlessly carrying the girl he had just met in his-- very, very strong, muscly arms and perhaps your head was not only spinning because of the sudden height you found yourself at.

…amusement? How was he amused? Was that-- was that a joke? Was he making fun of his bullet wound, playing it down? 

“That’s… really not better.”

He grinned down at you as he made his way to the exit.

Walking. Watching you. Grinning and not even really looking where he was stepping.

Oh no.

Oh no, he was one of those people. You had met men like him at Operations, except for some reason – perhaps some sort of a soulmate telepathy – you had a feeling in him, that the peculiar recklessness many people from suffered, the disregard for their safety, because they could handle it, was dialled up to eleven in him. On a one to five scale. Because scaling mattered; you were a scientist. You’d know.

However, he did make it out of the laboratory without blowing anything up – perhaps at least that recklessness was balanced up by enhanced senses of a supersoldier and indeed, healing fast. And you hoped with your whole heart that walking out unscathed was a conscious effort, be it for him (somehow you doubted that) or for the cargo he was carrying (you had no doubt about that, not when he was looking at you like that). At least he had kept the helmet on; you were thankful for that, even as you’d love to see him without it.

See your soulmate.

You knew what he looked like everyone knew what he looked like. If they had missed the WW II. ed, they could barely miss the news about an alien invasion he had had a hand in stopping, the fall of majority of SHIELD, and other exciting horrifying news.

“I’ll be fine, doc. Now let’s get you away from exploding vials and lab equipment you could knock me out with. I’d rather be safe when I ask you out for dinner.”

You gulped, gripping him a bit tighter as a memory hit you – literally.

The PCR machine. You had done that. You had grabbed it and used it to smash into a HYDRA agent’s face, using the nearest improvised tool of defence. Jesus.

I really did that?

“You… saw that?” was what you asked instead, a few second ticking by as the rest of his words registered in your brain – and god, you really hoped your cognitive abilities would restore soon and the head injury had not caused permanent damage. “Oh.”

As much as your heart started pounding at that, a pleasant somersault in your stomach for a change, it was a little unfair to sort-of ask you when you were in your current predicament. Being carried like that, so close to him, so gentlemanly and tenderly handled despite your weight no doubt straining him, especially since he had been shot – grazed –, yoursenses wrapped in everything that was him and pulling you in, you were fairly certain you might say yes to just about anything he’d ask.

And not just because he was your soulmate.

Your soulmate carrying you in his arms, while wearing a very flattering suit of armour.

“If you’d like, of course,” he added with slight hesitance that only made your heart race further, because he was laying out his own heart for you already, expressive, genuine, and maybe sweetly handsy but not pushy despite his title and rank technically giving him every right to do whatever the hell he wanted. “But either way, I’ll save the real question for when I know you’re not suffering from a concussion. That sounds good?”

“Yes, Captain,” you replied dutifully. It did sound good, his consideration warming you from inside out. His voice sounded good too. “Sounds good to me.”

His smile was bright as the sun itself and basking in its light and warmth felt just as precious. Except he was to be your private sun forever shared with other to a point, but yours. Chosen by fate itself, defying all you had ever believed, beating time by decades, only so you could find each other.

“Looking forward to it, doc. Maybe I’ll get to know your name too while we’ll be at it,” he teased lightly, but without malice. “My name is Steve.”

Steve.

You knew that. You liked that.

Hand trembling a little, but not because you worried he’d drop you as you partly let go of his shoulders, you reached for the clasp on his helmet, a fluttery feeling in your chest eager to indeed see Steve rather than the Captain.

You felt your lips curl up and mirror his when he gave a tiny nod at your brief hesitation, your fingers finally undoing the strap and revealing his face with his help.

His hair was adorably ruffled, a slight shade of dust on his cheeks whispering of where the protective gear had been; but scientifically speaking, as well as speaking directly from heart, he was absolutely beautiful, his tender smile telling you he thought the very same about you.

He was meant to be yours; as you were meant to be his.

And you couldn’t wait to get to know him.

You could tell there were people around you and they were probably staring; but for the moment, you didn’t care at all. You had just met your soulmate.

And you weren’t even a doctor yet.

“It’s really nice to meet you, Steve. But I have to admit…” you said, teasing him with a pause, rewarded by his eyes earning a curious glint, “that the Doc nickname is kinda growing on me.”

Complete masterlist

Steve Rogers masterlist

Oh this feels like coming back to my roots 🤭 but hey, this challenge is a revival of all thigs good of the past, so why not go with the good old-fashioned soulmate meet-cute with a little angst beforehand, right?

AND BEHOLD I WROTE SOMETHING SHORTER THAN 10K. SHORTER THAN 8K ACTUALLY! It’s an extravaganza miracle 😂

Also. There might be some unrelated smut in the works, but I will not finish that today so... won't be part of the cum together extravaganza... ah well 🤭

Thank you for reading and potential feedback 💕

May the Fourth be with you and the rest of May be kind ✨

[okartichoke]

ace avian. that’s what we’re calling this 🗣️🗣️🗣️

please let me know if you have any thoughts or suggestions or input or anything! i’m happy to bounce ideas around (i'll post DL-6 someday soon i swear)

link to masterpost || explations below cut

shoutout to the anon who sent in that ask bc i seriously fell in love with blue jay phoenix. SHOUTOUT TO TAKAHE PHOENIX TOO THO takahe phoenix, you will forever be in my heart and im glad you existed <3333,, (maybe in this au he’s got some loving adoptive takahe parents :3) (YKNOW WHAT YEAH that’s canon now)

but yeah, flight-avoidant jay phoenix still lends itself well to the common-man hardworking underdog vibe i want from him. speaking of flight-avoidant...

Phoenix's relationship with flying:

It's a bit complicated. Basically, Phoenix can fly, but he historically chooses not to. From the lack of any practice, he's an INCREDIBLY weak flier. (That hovering is really all he can manage)

For one, he's still afraid of heights. Can't help that. This fear means he was less inclined to practice flying, which made him a weaker flier. And being a weaker flier, in turn, made his fear of heights worse. And so on, in a loop. With flightless parents too (it's canon now it's canon), there's even less of a reason to learn to fly. At some point, not flying might've even become something he stuck with out of stubbornness lol, knowing Phoenix.

(I will soon be making a couple small world building posts, but) flying isn't necessary to get around in their society. Convenient, sure, but Phoenix realized he could make do without, and so he did. Phoenix, you icon. Slay. 💅💅

i know this probably isn't the popular take with wing AUs??, but Phoenix being flightless (or at least semi-flightless) sounded like a really fun take on the idea to me. His name is irony at its peak. I also look forward to exploring how other characters react to him not flying. The prosecutors are going to have so many cheap insult opportunities.

As I mentioned though, he still uses his wings a LOT, though. He's much more emotive with them than most people. His sarcastic inner-dialogue remarks are also betrayed by his wings lmao

I also imagine bird-folk never really invented bikes (riding would just be annoying with their wings, plus bikes aren't fast/efficient enough to outweigh just flying), so instead, Phoenix gets around on a little wing-powered scooter device (like scootaloo lol) (they're usually made for children who can't fly yet, but Phoenix still uses one)

finally, wow, stellar jay’s are quite literally just phoenix wright as a bird lmao? color scheme, hair, it’s uncanny. give it a pink tie and it just is Phoenix Wright, i used a blue jay since they’ve got a bit more striking wings but wow.

(ty again for the support and for reading my essay ! :3)

one more thing, but @kora-kat YES YES YES this. ^^^^ omg THIS. this is still true even though he's a jay now.

[ungroomedcat]

Scratch that. Couldn't resist fics.

Couldn't resist fanart.

Now I'm sitting here at midnight writing fic because autistic boy x stalker boy is too good of a trope to pass up.

Still looking forward to the manga.

Did not expect to like dungeon meshi as much as I did. Off to read the manga

[starryeyedstray]

my thoughts on dbh as someone entering the fandom in 2024

so just got into the dbh fandom like in aug 2024. i have watched too much gameplay, read the wiki extensively, read an obscene amount of fanfics on ao3, and am in the process of writing my own. here are some of my thoughts (that no one has asked for):

every fanfic writer who started in 2018 and is still updating their works in 2024 are literal saints and some of the best damn writers i ever did saw and the dedication is fucking unreal. one fic had almost 2 million words??????? like BRUH. some are still ongoing and updated this year?? the dbh fandom in ao3 is not thriving as much as it was in 2018 (i say this purely as someone who's looking at the hits/kudos/comment ratios on older v. new works) but they are still alive!!!!

i am puzzled with the obsession with gavin reed. there are like a million fics that feature him and rk900. i am confused bc he did not seem like a redeeming character at all in my opinion and idk, i think he's just an asshole. i like the redemption arcs some ppl write for him but i just can't with him. i mean you ship who you wanna ship but i am not a reed fan and i am confused how he became so popular when all he did was bully our poor boi connor.

i personally don't ship hank x connor bc they give strong father-son vibes in the canon. however, i am obsessed with how jolli_bean writes the pairing on ao3 since its usually a canon divergence or an AU so the pair meet later in life. there are some fics that follow the canon and do a pretty good job with the pairing, but i just tend to keep it familial between them in my head. (but like i said, ship who you want to ship)

i am glad there's a vague consensus that we all wished alice stayed a human bc i feel like that lends itself to a more interesting narrative post-game. tho i guess her being an android is fine bc now kara, luthor, and alice can live as one happy family in canada forvever lol

i am literally obsessed with bryan dechart's acting as connor. like if you haven't seen him play connor in real life for the interactive #detroit2038 premiere event, then you gotta watch some of the live stream. like he doesn't break character the whole time and his physicality just screams connor and i just really appreciate how much effort he put in as an actor to really embody the character. just so impressive and i wish there was more bts of him acting as connor bc its just so nuanced and ugh *chef's kiss* if they ever made a live action dbh it would be impossible for anyone else to play connor

i love the 28 stab wounds meme. when i watched that scene for the first time it was so jarring lmao

i also love how everyone is like yes, we all know connor likes dogs but he also likes fish bc of that one fish you can save in the very first minute of gameplay hahahah. (his name is dewey and it is vitally important you save him). i also appreciate how the "i like dogs" line will undoubtedly find it's way into every fic possible lol

i think the love for simon is very good and well and amazing but i think josh deserves more love in fics too

it bothers me that when north tells markus "i love you" at the church, MARKUS DOESN'T SAY IT BACK??? LIKE BITCH SAY YOU LOVE HER BACK DAMMIT DON'T JUST WALK AWAY

i love how the fandom just latched onto rk900 and rk800-60 and fleshed out their personalities and i love reading ppl's interpretation of these characters and how they incorporate them into their stories. it's funny they only show up like one time and ppl just ran with it and it's so fun and creative and i love it.

i love the hc that chloe deviated when connor chose not to shoot her. that's the best hc. like it's canon in my heart idc

bless all the fic writers who have mastered the art of explaining how androids mind and bodies work bc there are so many gaps and possibilities left open in the lore and it's incredible to see what ppl come up with or interpret based off the canon. (i still feel 50/50 about when they make deviants feel pain cause like androids not feeling pain is such a big part of the canon and yeah i'll give it a pass if the fic does it for the whumps and the angst but i prefer when a fic finds a canon-compliant reason for deviants to feel pain, even if its just like they got a chip or software installed that makes them feel pain or something)

every pairing that i find in this fandom, i tend to be like... "yeah i can see that." (with the exception of hank x connor for reasons i stated in #3). i'm still like ehhh on reed900 or even gavin x connor bc i just don't think it makes sense in the canon but if it's written well i just shrug and say yeah i guess i could see that. some rarepairs i ended up absolutely adoring were chloe x north and rk900 x north (i realize they're both north but she has such good potential for character dynamics)

idk if it's just me bc i specifically look for fics centered around connor, but i feel like there's not a lot of love for kara at least fic-wise. ig it's cause she kinda just leaves so it's easy to not include her. tbh, i am quite well-versed in markus' and connor's stories but i haven't really explored a lot of kara's. i plan on playing dbh with my partner when i see them again in a couple months and i wanted us to take turn playing different characters and i wanted to play kara's storyline so i've been avoiding it for the most part so i can be surprised with my options. plus, in my wip fic, kara is in canada so she's not really relevant to my story which is why i have in depth knowledge about markus and connor and less on kara.

the music in this game fucking SLAPS. 10/10 kara's theme makes me wanna cry.

okay, there is a common trope in the dbh fanfics where connor loses his memory and that shit gets me everytime. i'm always bawling and anxiously waiting for him to fucking REMEMBER and i hate and love it and eat it up every. single. time. usually, the memory loss happens early in the fic and it's pretty expected but sometimes i get blindsided and i'm like FUCK not this shit again but i can't stop reading it and the angst is so palpable.

i think it's so interesting how ra9 is just like this mystery in the lore that never gets entirely explained in the game. it's like something you can totally kinda ignore but it does have interesting lore implications if you decide to really think about it.

i adore all the characters in dbh equally except for connor who is the certified best boi and my absolute favorite (no one is shocked by this declaration). and the characters on my shit list are zlatko, todd, and sometimes reed.

this is an obnoxiously long post and i apologies. i haven't been on tumblr in years and i just had so many thoughts about dbh and i have no friends to talk to so i decided to dump it all here. i still have more thoughts but those are the ones that come to the forefront of my mind.

tldr: i love dbh and its fandom and i have many specific thoughts about it and you should just really read my post if you care about any of it

[antianakin]

One of the reasons that the headcanon that Qui-Gon "repudiated" Feemor post-Xanatos really bothers me is that the characterization we get of Qui-Gon really lends itself more to the idea that he might've CLUNG to Feemor rather than pushed him away. There's zero indication that Qui-Gon has cut off all contact with the people he had relationships with prior to Xanatos (Yoda, Mace, Tahl) and one of the reasons he's so disinclined to take a new apprentice is the fear that he'll make the same mistakes he did with Xanatos and cause their fall. But if he has a whole other apprentice that he WAS successful with, wouldn't he instead cling to that proof that he's not actually a failure? Even just as a comfort?

I propose an AU where Qui-Gon actually ends up partnering with Feemor post-Xanatos in order to always have that comfort nearby. Feemor wants Qui-Gon to get back into the saddle of teaching but knows Qui-Gon well enough to understand that throwing him into that saddle won't go well for anybody, so he decides on a trickier plan and takes a Padawan of his own (his first Padawan since he became a Knight) and ask for Qui-Gon's assistance. Since Qui-Gon is partnering with him, it's inevitable that they'd end up basically sharing the responsibility of teaching any Padawan that Feemor takes, but Feemor intentionally makes sure Qui-Gon knows that he's nervous about it and will want his Master's guidance.

So instead of becoming Qui-Gon's Padawan, Obi-Wan ends up becoming FEEMOR'S Padawan. Qui-Gon sees right through all of this of course, but he can't really do anything about it and he doesn't really mind helping Feemor with a Padawan the way he would if he had sole responsibility. He bonds with Obi-Wan relatively easily and the three of them become an incredible team.

And then you can get real angsty with it and say that Feemor died before the events of TPM, so Qui-Gon obviously took over Obi-Wan's apprenticeship on his own afterwards.

[burningcheese-merchant]

Abt burning spice's kingdom interaction with nutmeg tiger when he says "this place it reminds me of the first kingdom i..." do you think he destroyed that kingdom? Or built it?

The fact that he shows regret and hesitation in that line is interesting...

Do you think he became what he is because he doesn't have anything left to lose?

This can perfectly foils Golden cheese's story, even after her kingdom got destroyed she eventually embraces that fact and process that emotions healthily

Sorry im just yapping here, i love me two character that perfectly foils each other while being more similiar than enyone else and form a weird ahh relationship balancing between romantic or wanting to kill each other

-🌾anon

I'm going to go ahead and say both. I think he built it AND destroyed it. In fact, I'm going to go a step further and specify that he accidentally destroyed it while trying to defend it from some invading force, thus making this the first real step down that dark path. Think of it: in a mad frenzy to protect something he loved, he destroyed it instead. He unwittingly became what he was fighting against, if only for a moment - and that moment would set many things in motion, each more terrible than the last, for not only has Burning Spice now come to truly know the bitter taste of loss and history's seemingly futile nature, it came to him in perhaps the worst way possible, and so left the most lasting impression. (Idk if what I tried to cook here came out of the oven right, but there was an attempt lol)

I 100% agree with the idea that Spice became who and what he is after succumbing to despair in the face of seemingly unending loss (I go into detail about it here, this is how I personally headcanon his descent into villainy), and that there is still a lingering sense of regret somewhere inside of his heart, even if small and not strong enough to influence him anymore. That dialogue he has with Nutmeg Tiger is what pushed me to want to analyze him and construct a possible background and motive for him, and later what inspired me to want to redeem not only him, but all five of the Beasts. The fact that he might have regrets is very interesting and very promising to me, and lends itself to the idea that, with time and the right guidance, he could perhaps... change (to keep with the theme haha).

And I also agree with you on him and Golden Cheese being perfect foils for one another (it's part of why I ship them so hard lol). They mirror each other SO well in my eyes. And in the face of the same exact loss, one folded while the other stood strong (although you can say that GC folded as well, at least for a while, before she realized the folly in her delusional grief and collected herself). Nothing lasts forever, that's true, but that doesn't make it meaningless - quite the opposite. It is the ephemeral nature of life that makes it beautiful and worthwhile. It's alright to be upset when something ends, but you can't let that define you. Everything ends eventually. Focus less on what's far ahead or what's far behind and focus more on what's in front of you right now. That's the lesson GC more or less learns, and it's the lesson BS needs to learn too, in my opinion. And I honestly think GC is the right one to help teach him that.

Sorry, I sort of spoiled the "Change" arc in my Reformed Beasts AU a little bit here lol. You really hit the nail on the head with your thoughts here and it prompted me to puke this word salad. Great minds lol

[dilfsonic]

Okay so, unpopular take that applies specifically to my Service Animal AU: Shadow and Maria are not siblings/“sibling coded.”

If you’ve read the notes on the original lore post describing them, you probably already know what I mean. While they can and will have moments of inspired ‘sibling’ like love for each other, that’s simply too disingenuous a way to describe them. They’re so much more. They’re each other’s only friend, they’re charge and ward, they can mimic the attitudes of siblings but never fully understand them, they have no romantic interests (until sonic shows up) and so mimic certain attitudes in that way with each other as well. But all of these are mere approximations and mimicry without fully encompassing any of those relationships. Shadow’s “affections” can be easily misconstrued for holding more weight than they actually are intended, as gestures such as hand holding/cuddling/purring are all utilitarian expressions meant to ease Maria’s physical discomfort or anxiety in accordance to his job as her service animal. Nothing more, nothing less. Maria knows this, but others can and do easily make their own assumptions.

I’ve been a little nervous to express this interpretation as I feel it can be really easily misunderstood, and I don’t want to give people the idea that even the immensely “”romantic”” or affectionate gestures or affiliations applied to them are actually meant to be shippy. Their love is an all encompassing one, and to call it sibling-like or romantic are both incorrect, as they’re neither. Ultimately applying any real world label to this au will be incorrect and a little too extreme in either direction; the closest possible relationship that may most accurately describe them is that between a service dog and their owner, if such a service dog was as intellectually capable of their human.

They’re what you get when you’re the only two people in your whole world. They’re what you get when you pair together someone who’s indebted to the other for their existence, which goes both ways. And by normal relationship standards, I would disagree to consider it a ‘healthy’ dynamic, but it also cannot be judged by the milestones of what a normal and healthy dynamic even looks like.

Shadow is nothing without her (in his own mind), and this lends itself to an inability to conceptualize a ‘self’ to even express. Maria hates how Shadow views himself — a tool, a trained dog, a guard, a companion of necessity — but she also can’t avoid using him accordingly. That means having no choice but to treat him not as a person, but as her crutch. Shadow is little aware of her internal struggle with the dehumanization of him because they communicate this almost never. Nor does he mind being dehumanized, he has never been a ‘person’ since the day he was created anyway.

Maria would love nothing more than to call Shadow a little brother, her best friend, someone who she could’ve had take her to prom because nobody at her school wanted to indulge the sickly child, nor did anyone even know her well enough considering she spent most of her time out of school than in it. She’d love to call Shadow these normal things, but she can’t. Not yet at least. Sonic will slowly change them and the way they can view friendship and the world and what it means to belong to each other, but it’s hard work on Shadow and Maria’s part.

They are something that can’t be easily defined, because it’s complex, and messy, and while there are bright moments of wonder and joy, is also overwhelmingly dark in its implications, and they can feel utterly alone even when standing right next to each other. Shadow owes Maria everything, and Maria owes Shadow everything, but each underestimates the full gravity of how their own existence touches and expands the other. They consider themselves worthless compared to the other, and that’s what gets in the way of them truly being able to open their hearts to each other. The way Sonic later teaches them HOW to open their hearts.

So yeah. I hope this concept of blurring the lines doesn’t scare too many folks, but this is based on my personal interpretation of how I feel a continued existence between them in canon or a canon adjacent world might have been like. I know it’s easy and delightful to see em like wholesome siblings — which is also an interpretation I wholeheartedly endorse and adore, particularly the way my bud @ratrrriot draws them (please go follow them if you don’t already, their shadow and maria artwork is to die for!) — but this is just a slightly different and admittedly darker take on them that I hope won’t ruffle too many feathers. Sibling coded relationships between characters are so wonderful, but in this case doesn’t feel satisfying or like it can possibly cover the scope of them for this particular au. I dislike labeling them or comparing them to another dynamic, like Sonic and Tails who are very explicitly brotherly with one another.

I may make a separate post on Sonic’s impact in this world and how he touches the lives of Shadow and Maria, Helen (when she comes along), and this world’s version of Robotnik (Julian) if people are interested in that. I take a lot of inspiration from his characterization in the Adventure games and Sonic X for this AU, as he’s most closely canon-aligned compared to Shadow and Maria who are a little different; though I’m gonna try my best to fit their “canon” personalities into a completely different scenario. Such as, Shadow lacks the innate hatred he has for mankind as he never loses Maria, but he will retain the “my body is a tool” mentality and the general uncaring of others opinions of him, etc.

[transfemmesam]

🥰 I wanna hear about your au where Sam is a girl!!

YIPPEE ^_^ so. she’s not superrr feminine but ofc the hunting lifestyle doesn’t really lend itself to that, and in part it’s because she looks up to dean so much and wants to be like him (mostly when she’s younger though).

girl sam definitely still has canon sam’s absolutely ridiculous height, she’s lanky and not particularly curvy, and she probably has similar hair to canon as well because again, the hunting life is not easy on long hair. in late high school she probably starts growing it out in preparation for college

on the wincest side of things (because i’m me), dean would be SO much more weird and overprotective of her than he already is, with an added layer of misogyny 💀 when she outgrows him around 10th grade and can’t wear his hand-me-downs anymore, he freaks out because he has the amulet as part of her with him, but there’s nothing left of his on her…. so he starts being meaner and rougher so she has some visible bruises and bites from him <3 also when she “officially” loses her virginity (aka has sex with someone other than dean) it makes him both so horny and violent that he doesn’t know what to do with himself �� god forbid someone other than him touch sammy and kiss sammy and fuck sammy bc that’s his job!! and oh man if they’re mean to her that’s his job too >:(

all her teachers during this era are kinda freaked out bc (direct quote from my buddy) “it’s this really smart awkward girl always showing up to school with new bruises and she gets picked up by an angry guy who pushes her around and yells at her but she refuses to say anything bad about him ever”. <3

one last thing bc this got really long: john is also definitely weird abt her because she reminds him of mary, and both he and dean keep her away from hunts as much as possible because they’re ultra-worried about other hunters being pervy and they’re jealous. sam doesn’t like this because she can handle herself and she’s not gonna do anything with a stranger wtf 🙄🙄

[firsttimewriter92]

Neighborly shenanigans Pt. 2

Simon "Ghost" Riley x f! reader (Neighbor AU)

Part 1 ; Part 3; Part 4

Description: After your first encounter, your helpful neighbour lends you a hand and spends the evening with you

Warnings: cursing, some dirty thoughts, fluff, pining and longing getting stronger, a little smidge of angst

Word count: 2.708

A/N: Hi everyone <3 Here´s part two. Somehow I feel like this is going to be a multi chapter story with a really, really slow burn.

Would you be interessted in that or do you want me to hurry it up? :D

Please enjoy <3

„Come on, you bag of dog shite” you yelled at the wall as you tried to drill the hole for the dowel. Frustrated and sweat beading at your hairline you set down the power drill and took a deep breath. How on earth were you supposed to get this floating shelf up on the wall? You´ve never done something like this and although you´ve got all the tools and watched countless of videos on how to do it, it all turned out to be much more difficult than everyone else had lead you to believe by watching YouTube.

Checking the holes you´d already drilled you nodded to yourself. “Come on, just one more” you said to yourself and lifted the drill again. Three distinct knocks came down on your door and your movements halted immediately. Shit, you thought. There it was. The fist neighbour to tell you to fucking keep it down. You rolled your eyes as you made your way over to your door. Before your hand reached the handle however, a flash of dark hazel eyes and blond hair invaded your inner eye. Here´s to hoping, you thought as you opened the door with a defiant look on your face. Just in case it was someone else.

But there he stood. Tall, impossibly broad and still with the mask across his face. You started to wonder if he had some kind of medical condition.

You schooled your features to look as indignant as possible but you felt the corner of your mouth tick as your eyes fell onto him again. You couldn’t read the look in his eyes so you raised your eyebrows in question and spoke. “Yes?” you asked him.

“Not to be nosy, Miss, but do you need some help with that drill by any chance?” Again he managed to ask a simple question without making it seem like he was doubting your abilities. You winced a little and looked up at him with a slightly guilty look in your eyes. “I´ve been taking my sweet time with it, haven’t I?”

Again your ears were blessed with a deep chuckle before he shrugged his shoulders slightly. “Maybe a bit” he drawled. His attentive eyes momentarily jumped over your head to look into your apartment. “I know the walls are solid brick” he said and looked into your eyes again. “Fuckin´ pain to get a nail in…lest be it a dowel.” You hung your head and snickered. “You´re right” you said with a deep sigh. “My shoulders are killing me. And so is this darn wall.”

His eyes narrowed again with a smile and he straightened up. “Well then, how about we get this over with so Mrs. Danbury upstairs can enjoy her daily dose of `Midsomer murders´?” Your knees almost buckled when you saw him wink at you slightly. “She´s been on my case ever since I brought home the Lady. Don´t want the same thing happenin´ to you.”

Two things happened at once. You laughed at the tone he was using when describing your elderly neighbour that always took way too much interest in anything that was going on, and your heart sinking into your stomach when the endorphins his presence invoked died on the spot. ´The Lady´. Girlfriend. Of course he had one. You mentally slapped yourself.

Something must have shown on your face. Your neighbour looked at you curiously before you collected yourself again. “Right” you said hastily and stood aside for him to enter. “Please don’t mind the mess. I haven’t been able to unpack fully yet. Work and all…” He didn’t seem to mind however. You closed your door and observed how his massive body manoeuvred itself around your furniture and moving boxes. You couldn’t help but notice how tactical his movements were. There wasn´t a step wasted before he reached the power drill and picked it up. Looking at the wall and the holes you already drilled, he nodded to himself.

It took him no longer than a minute to drill the last hole. From your vantage point from the kitchen you let your eyes rake over his movements. How his arms flexed underneath a lose fitting t-shirt that would probably fit you like a tent. The slight bend in his knees and the way his incredible thighs strained against his sweat pants. Steamin´ Jesus. That man must spend all of his free time in the gym to maintain those muscles. Almost ashamed you averted your eyes from his body. Ogling a man that wasn’t yours and was in a relationship felt insanely wrong. And yes, there was a difference between appreciating and ogling.

He sat down the drill and looked around for a second. “This one?” he pointed at the shelf. “Oh, you don´t have to hang it, I can manage from here” you said hastily and walked over. He looked at you with raised eyebrows. Did his shoulders sag just a tiny bit? “It´s no big deal, really” he said slowly while still penetrating you with his soulful dark eyes. Don´t swoon, don’t swoon, don’t swoon.

“I don’t have anywhere else to be” he continued very quietly, inclining his head a little more downward towards you. Your throat constricted as you realised how his implication made you feel. You steeled your whole body and he noticed immediately, standing up straight again. His eyes took on a slightly bewildered and dejected look. “I´m sure your girlfriend wants her daily cuddles on the couch so you can go. I´ll hang the thing myself. Thanks for your help.” You tried to sound thankful but the ice in your voice made it difficult.

God, how you hated men that couldn’t just be cocky for the fun of it. Of course they had to be absolute fucking asshats as well, flirting like their life depended on it, thirsting after every woman that came across their path and the one by their side just being the most favourite one.

This time the narrow of his eyes wasn’t created by a smile. You could clearly see the irritation in them not just by the way he bunched his eyebrows but in the immediate change of body language.

“Wait here” he said coldly as he began to move. He stepped around you, shoulders squared and mumbling something before he opened your door. Without any effort he pulled over the huge pot containing your yucca palm and used it to stop the door from falling shut.

Completely confused about what he was trying to do you heard him call out to someone before appearing in your doorway again. He almost took over the whole frame with his massive torso. His head yet again inclined he looked sheepishly at you this time.

“Sometimes I´m not good with words” he said as he stepped towards you again. “I´m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression of me.” Your heart kickstarting with hope again you tilted your head to the side a little with a questioning look which made him rumble his ridiculously attractive chuckle again.

He turned his head towards your still open door and gave one sharp whistle before looking at you again, his voice friendly. “This is Riley,-” he said as a long and high pitched noise came from you and you immediately leaned down as the big German Sheperd trotted in to stand next to your neighbour. The animal sat down and eyed you with curious eyes, not moving from the mans side however. “And she´s the only girl in my life right now” you heard him say.

Prying your eyes from the dog you looked up at him and yet again felt your face grow impossibly hot. The look he was giving you was difficult to read. Careful and pondering your reaction to his statement but somehow also cheeky. Almost naughty.

In an apologetic tone you answered and shook your head slightly. Your chest feeling like it was inflated by a balloon, excitement yet again running through your veins. “I jumped to conclusions. I shouldn’t have been so…bitchy.” A sigh escaped him and he lifted one of his hands to rake it through his blond mass of hair, ruffling it a little. “Nah, you were right to do that. I should have made it more clear. I´m not…like that. I don´t flirt much so…”

Your head snapped up so quickly you winced for a second as your muscles tensed. “Y-You were?” you asked, almost not daring to. “Flirting?”

He gave you a very direct look before answering. “Yes” he simply said and you learned something new about him at that moment. No bullshit kind of man.

“Oh” you breathed, your brain suddenly void of anything witty to say. “Okey.”

He somehow seemed satisfied with your reaction, you could see his cheeks lifting in a smile.

“Can I hang your shelf now?” he asked and you huffed out a laugh, nodding. Humming, he passed you and got to work. You nose tingled as you got your first real whiff of him. Damn, he smelled good. Not good. Great. Unique and calming. Manly and somehow fruity. What the heck was in his body wash?

A cold nose bumped your hand and happily you sat down on your sturdy wooden coffee table to scratch the dogs ears. “What a pretty thing you are” you said gleefully to the animal which had begun wagging its tail furiously. “Yes you are, yes you are.”

“You a dog person then?” you heard the deep rumbly voice ask. You looked up at him with a grin. “I´m an animal person in general but there is something about the fierce love you get from a dog…” you shrugged before petting Riley again. He hummed again. Contently stroking the soft fur of Riley you observed her owner closely while he hung up your shelf. A sweet notion of domesticity hung in the air and it was kind of strange how quickly you felt it washing over you.

When he was done, he packed up the drill and walked over to you. “What do you think?” he asked in a chipper tone. He came to a stop next to you and lowered himself on his haunches to look at the shelf from your hight. “Is it level?”

You turned your head slightly to the right and pursed your lips dramatically. “Uh-huh” you said and nodded, turning your head and looking at him with a smirk. “You did a good job.”

He didn’t move his head but his eye glanced at you, the delicate lines around it appearing yet again.

“Why are you wearing that?” you asked suddenly and very quietly. His head turned fully towards you without answering. “Is it making you uncomfortable?” he asked just as quietly. You shook your head softly at that. “Do you mind me wearing it?” Again you shook your head like in trance. The dim light in your room reflected in his dark eyes that suddenly didn’t seem to be that dark. The deep hazel colour was underlined with some flecks of light brown, almost gold. The colour perfectly accentuating the feathery blond lashes framing his big almond shaped eyes.

“Then will you let me keep it on?” you almost didn’t hear him the way he muttered his question into the cloth.

“It´s hardly my decision” you answered breezily and tried not to let your eyes wander to where you supposed his lips were. “I just wanted to know why you were wearing it.” He nodded and closed his eyes for a brief moment.

Right then, Riley decided that your petting wasn’t enough and excitedly squeezed herself in between her owners legs, effectively knocking him on his behind. “Fuckin´ ell” he sputtered out with a laugh and began wrapping his massive arms around the dog, play wrestling with it for a second.

You felt the moment hover over you and then disappearing into every nook and cranny in your apartment. Seeing him play with his dog however gave you a completely different moment to enjoy and remember. You giggled and got up from your coffee table. “Want a drink?” you asked over your shoulder. Your voice sounded uncomfortably loud even though you used your normal inside volume.

“Actually” he said as he got up from the floor and followed you. When you turned around he was already in front of you. His scent flowing over you it was a herculean task not to close your eyes and burry your nose in his shirt. “I wanted to ask if you´re free this Saturday.” Again he didn’t beat around the bush and you absolutely loved it. “I am, yes” you said trying not to bounce up and down right then and there.

“Great” he said without hesitation. “I´ll pick you up at 8. No need for fancy clothes.” A man with a plan, is this for real? How long has he thought about asking you out? When you raised your eyebrows he doubled down a little. “Unless you like fancy. We can do fancy as well, of course. I can do fancy.” You giggled when you heard his slightly wavering voice.

“No, I don´t need fancy. I can do casual.” He seemed to like that very much and stared down at you for another moment. “Great” he repeated softly. “Need anything else hung or assembled tonight?” he asked cheekily as his gaze drifted over your living room. You rolled your eyes at him playfully before shaking your head. “I´m good for now, thanks. If I need another handy man before Saturday I´ll come knocking.” A slight ´hehe´ left his mouth and he stemmed his hands on his hips, turning his head to his dog.

“Come on, girl. Let´s get you some food and let the Lady enjoy her evening.” You followed them to your door where he pushed the heavy plant back in its original place with his foot before turning around one last time. “See you Saturday” he said with a smile in his voice.

“See you Saturday” you said giddily but then your eyes went comically wide realising…and then laughing out loud.

“What? What?” he asked with a bewildered chuckle.

“Before I go on a date with you,” you gasped and lightly touched your stomach. “I´d really like to know your name.”

He too looked dumbstruck for a second, his eyes going wide before closing them and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Simon” he said with an incredulous voice.

“Call me Simon.” He sighed deeply before looking into your eyes again with mirth. “I can´t believe I forgot to introduce myself.” You waved your hand in front of your face dismissively before holding it out to him nervously.

“I´m ___, by the way.”

He only hesitated for a moment before engulfing your hand with his and squeezed it. You felt callouses, warmth and incredible strength. Seeing how the palm of his hand almost completely swallowed your hand, a shiver ran down your neck and spine. Tingling at the small of your back and spreading to your front. Liquid adrenalin was pooling in your stomach, made your legs grow heavy and your nether regions tremble.

You were only holding his hand and you felt ready to pounce. Reign it in, damn it.

“___”. Your name left his lips and that pouncing thought jumped back into the forefront of your mind until he let go of your hand.

“Goodnight,___” he said lowly and by the way he looked at you, you knew exactly that your body language had told him much more than you wanted him to know.

“´Night, Simon.”

You closed the door gently and it took everything in you to walk over to your couch and not collapse against the door. Your legs were still heavy and jelly like, something still tingling like crazy in your panties. “Oh, hell” you said to yourself as you crossed your legs to try and relieve some of the pressure.

It wasn´t working.

So, when you got to bed half an hour later you got comfortable and retrieved your trusty toy from its box. There was no way you would be able to sleep without getting all these feelings out. The longing for his scent, voice and his touch.

Saturday couldn’t come soon enough.

______________________________________________________

Again, thank you so much for reading. I hope you enjoyed it <3

Please consider interacting with this post and give me some feedback. Comments and reblogs always help not only to push my work that I love, but also help to improve my writing and get my imagination going.

Thank you for considering it <3

Tags:

@xheera @fruitymoonbeams-blog @euuuuuuun @oranoyaora

[ourfag]

A made-up fic title for you:

✨All That Glitters ✨

ok so my first instinct is to follow the too-good-to-be-true appeal/deception theme—modern au, ed’s a scammer who singles stede out online for his immense disposable income, establishes contact over text/internet, finds it astonishingly fun to build a rapport with him, and starts siphoning money earlier in the game than he ever has before. it’s a personal record. izzy’s chuffed. ed’s kind of meh about it.

unfortunately: this is a gentlebeard fanfiction and ed is falling in love with the mark.

he works independently and he’s good at what he does, so he’s not in any kind of debt; at this point in his life he’s scamming for scamming’s sake. he doesn’t need stede’s money for anything, he’s just kind of accumulating it and not using it. the thought of spending it doesn’t make him feel good. no particular reason.

izzy’s getting on him about extracting some higher figures from this guy already, and ed knows he’s right, he’s stalling. he’s gonna bleed this guy out. it’s what he does. it’s who he is. he doesn’t get to just walk away from it.

….stede, though. now, if stede walked away, well, not much ed could do about that. it happens. it would suck, but ruining stede’s life would suck more.

there’s two directions i can see things going from here and i’d probably decide based on which one lends itself to funnier problems:

1. ed starts accidentally-on-purpose getting sloppy. irreconcilable inconsistencies, weird places he’s asking stede to wire money, slipping in hints that he’s not legit, with increasing blatancy because as far as he can tell, all of these things are flying over stede’s head. they’re also flying over izzy’s head because he’s not good enough with people to notice the drop in quality.

2. they live in the same city, or at least the same general region of the country, so ed Coincidentally happens upon a Chance Meeting with stede in real life. totally randomly and not on purpose and good luck proving otherwise. stede has no idea who ed is but they hit it off immediately (again) and if ed had any doubts that he’s utterly in love with this guy then those have been obliterated by stede’s 100000 watt smile. they grow close. ed expresses some skepticism about jeff, stede’s very good friend jeff, who maybe seems a little sketchy? maybe he’s not who he says he is? but the thing is ed’s really good at what he does. so he’s having a hard time finding holes to poke in jeff’s story. and if he’s too unduly critical towards jeff then he’s just gonna look jealous—

actually now that i think of it option 2 followed by option 1 could work nicely. maybe i wouldnt have to choose

anyway. while all this is going on stede’s had his suspicions that his money was not going where jeff said it was going but he’s been going along with it anyway because jeff is really nice to talk to and because stede thinks it’s important that criminals work to uplift one another (in his spare time stede has been committing larceny.)