#we need to standardize this ship name

[cobra-wives]

toriguel is such a good ship name for what it is. in the inherent art of balancing the names of a portmanteau ship name, toriguel dares to play on its own failings by giving miguel’s name more weight on the word (his experiences leading their relationship/friendship) and, unintentionally misspelling tory’s name with the i (casting her emotions aside in favor of focusing on sam). symbolic or what!

[ms-demeanor]

So. Okay. I use my personal computer for work. This is not an ideal situation, and it's a holdover from Gary refusing to buy work computers for anyone when we went remote. I do not recommend this. You should not do this. If you are a business, you should not allow your employees to do this. It's a security issue for you and for your employer and is, all around, a bad idea.

My company installs an RMM agent (a program that lets us remotely manage the device and to view the screen in certain circumstances) on all of our client computers; you need the agent to do some server access stuff, so sometimes I have to have the RMM agent on my computer and get joined to our environment. When I'm done doing whatever it is, I uninstall the agent because I don't want my boss to have remote control software on my personal device. If you are using your personal computer at work, you should not allow your employer to maintain remote control software on your personal device.

My computer has a dorky name. I usually name my computers dorky things. This one is called Atredies and the last one was Gandalf and the one before that was Hende Nicholas and the one before that was Robocop. This, notably, does not match our office's pattern of "BN-1508," or even Gary's standard of "Work-Related-Concept" ("Shipping") or "First Name" ("Maddy") for naming our office computers. So sometimes I'll be sitting in the virtual office and someone will look up from doing device approvals and will say "What company has a desktop named Atredies" and I'll be like "us, the sleeper has awakened, let me on" and everyone is like hey Alli you're a huge dork and I'm like yeah.

So here's the thing. You should not be using your personal computer as a work computer. If you are using your personal computer as a work computer, you should not allow your employer to leave control programs installed on the device. If you do have control programs on the device, it's good to make sure that your computer is VERY VERY VERY identifiably *not* a computer owned by your employer. If your employer gave you an old computer that was being decommissioned, you should make sure to do a fresh OS install and you should make sure to rename the machine something that will make it easy to see it's your machine.

This post is brought to you by the lady whose gifted-from-her-job 12 year old laptop named "WP-1644" we just bricked because the client didn't maintain an inventory list and when they couldn't identify the user they decided it was stolen.

[softlymellow]

The Order Forgot Me First - Chapter 6

☆⁠ PAIRING : Anakin Skywalker x Reader

☆⁠ word count: 3.3k

☆⁠ story themes: lovers to enemies to eventually lovers

☆⁠ warnings: spoilers to swtcw, angstttt

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

"...he almost remembered what it meant to him. Except he didn't. Instead, it was a taste from a dream he couldn’t quite remember."

A dimly lit mission room deep within the Jedi Temple, Anakin Skywalker, Obi-wan Kenobi and Mace Windu gathered around a holographic display. The hum of the holographic offered a soft backdrop to their conversation. 

“Many reports of two skilled bounty under the names ‘Ani’ and ‘Dev’ have been causing disruptions across various sectors.” Mace Windu sternly said whilst Anakin gulped at the use of a name he hasn’t heard in a year. “They have slipped through the Republic forces on multiple occasions.” 

Obi-wan leaned forward, “two bounty hunters causing this much trouble? That's unusual.” 

“Indeed. But their methods have grown more aggressive, even by bounty hunter standards. What is more concerning is Dev. ” Mace Windu tapped the datapad and the holographic image flickered to life, a materialised image of a young boy no older than 15. 

“But that’s only a boy.” Anakin furrowed his eyebrows at Mace Windu, confusion evident on his face. 

“Once a boy, yes. He was once a skilled Jedi, dismissed from the Order for the refusal to adhere to the Code. His descent began when he lost his family and, in a fit of anger, slaughtered civilians. Dark tendencies grew within him.” 

Anakin stiffened immediately and felt a foreboding feeling grow in his stomach. Obi-wan's expression darkened beside him. “A former Jedi turned bounty hunter with such a violent past…It’s troubling.” 

“And what about this..Ani?” Anakin reluctantly asked. 

“She is a much newer addition to the bounty hunting world, but she has proved to be some sort of a prodigy. They were just spotted on Corellia after a bombing to capture Dengar, another well known bounty who worked with Maul and Savage to capture me.” Mace Windu informed them, turning off the holograph. 

Obi-wan frowned, concern etching lines on his face. “We’re going after two bounty hunters? Isn’t that more of a job for local security forces in Corellia?” 

Mace’s gaze shifted from Anakin to Obi-wan, “You both are uniquely skilled in dealing with unconventional situations. We need to contain them before they both spiral out of control.”

Anakin’s jaw tightened, resolve evident in his eyes. “Understood, Master Windu.” 

Obi-wan nodded in agreement, his focus unwavering. “We’ll head to Corellia immediately.”

“Good. May the force guide your actions.” Mace Windu stood tall. 

—

Anakin and Obi-wan sat in the ship en route to Corellia. Neither had spoken a word, just eyes drifting at the stars that illuminated outside. 

Dev.

Ani. 

Not their real names. It wasn't hard to miss the amount of blanks throughout their whole file. Dev's one gave a general consensus though; a disobedient Jedi Padawan, now a runaway. But the latter… No image. No backstory. It was as if she only existed a few months ago. 

Anakin ran a hand through his hair, teeth gnawing the inside of lips. His eyes lazily read the datapad in his lap. A boy stared back at him. Dev. Just 15 years of age in the image, younger than the recent sightings of him. Much younger. His eyes looked hollow, already hard. Like part of him had lost something but was never filled again. 

“Nothing on the girl?” Obi-wan asked beside him, still gazing out the window, but deep in thought. 

Anakin inhaled, his chest rising against his robes and shook his head. “Nothing. Her name is clearly a placeholder, but no record of her.” Anakin turned off the datapad. 

“She is either very smart,” Obi-wan murmured, “or lucky.” 

Anakin leaned in his seat not liking either answer. “What business do they have blowing up a civilian square in the middle of a Corellian protest?” 

Obi-wan stroked his beard, “I’d say they are after another bounty hunter. Denger I assume. He was spotted here the night before.”

“So they try and bring him in, only to level half the plaza in the process?”

“Looks like it.”

Scoffing, Anakin dragged his hand down his face. 

Outside the ship, Corellia was a mess. Alarms sounding through the cities, smoke darkening the skies and protest fires on the rooftops. What was usually a beautiful planet is now filled with protests against the war. 

Once the ship doors opened, Anakin and Obi-wan were hit with heat. Not physical. But tension. Soldiers and civilians buzzing through the streets, it was as if they weren’t at a docking platform. 

“Well, it seems like we have your day cut out for us.” Obi-wan muttered as they made their way down the streets, glancing at the protest signs abandoned on the floor. “No Justice, No peace” was written in Corellian dialect. 

Burn marks scattered around the floor piquing Anakin’s interests. Crouching down, his fingers gently grazed the soot left, leaving his fingers darkened. 

“There was a bombing,” Anakin concluded, spotting several pieces of metal scattered around the floor. 

Obi-wan nodded, "the security reports said they did vanish into the crowds before troops arrived.” His eyes scanned the crowd up ahead. “I’d say our perpetrators are there.” 

That annoyed Anakin more than it should have. 

“Then we’ll start there,” Anakin said. 

— 

Corellia bled with fury and fight. 

Anakin walked ahead, his hood drawn low and his feet dragging along the concrete, stones skidding away. He wasn’t really in the mood. Trying to find 2 cloaked figures in a sea of more cloaked figures wasn’t exactly ideal. After 2 hours of dead ends, he kept replaying the grainy footage hoping it would offer a clue. 

On the other hand, Obi-wan walked behind being Obi-wan. A calm diplomatic Jedi master. He was always asking the right questions to the right vendors, nodding and being friendly. His warm voice made people eager and more keen to offer tips. 

“I spoke to the surveillance clerk”, Obi-wan broke the silence, catching up to Anakin. “He said the crowd tripled after the bombing, half running to shelter and the other protesting even more.” 

Anakin stopped in front of a sign that read “THE REPUBLIC DOESN’T SEE US”, the edges of the banner burnt. 

“Give it a few days and then the Senate will fix this with a speech.”

Obi-wan’s face hardened, “Well it is the Senate’s job to do that.”

“It shouldn’t be.” Anakin muttered, leaving Obi-wan dumbfounded. Did he mean that the planet should fend for itself, fixing its own politics? Or did he mean that the Senate was useless, giving out speeches with no real backlayer. Maybe a bit of both. 

Obi-wan pursed his lips, his eyes scanning the buildings that now had a layer of dust covering it. Walking was starting to get irritating as every few seconds a person would nudge their shoulder with their own, making them lose focus every few seconds. 

That’s when Anakin saw it. 

Small smears of red on the cobblestone wall. Dried and just there. Followed by a few more droplets that painted the floor into an alley. 

Anakin crouched down taking a further look, gaining Obi-wan’s attention. 

“Blood.” Obi-wan hummed, stroking his beard thoughtfully. 

“Might not be theirs.”

“Still, we are Jedi. Whoever blood it belongs to may need help.” Obi-wan advised. 

They followed the trail that led to a rusted backdoor. Anakin didn’t hesitate. Immediately pushing past the door as it creaked loudly. 

It was dim inside. 

And in the corner was an elderly Twi’lek couple. 

Anakin and Obi-wan both flinched, least expecting to break into a home. 

The couple sat on the floor, a blanket engulfing their lower body and a half-crushed medpac that rested near their feet. 

Obi-wan immediately put his hands up in defence, “We’re not here to harm you.”

The couple's eyes traced both Anakin and Obi-wan’s figure, their eyes flickering between the saber’s that rested on their hip and their defensive face.

Noticing that they haven’t said anything, Anakin used the opportunity and stepped forward, the woman clutched her blanket a bit tightly. 

“We’re investigating the bombing that happened here. Do you know anything about that?” 

The male shook his head, his blue tentacle like tendrils moving with him, “N-no.”

Obi-wan moved up with Anakin, realising that they can speak Basic. “A young man with blonde hair and a cloaked girl. Does it sound any familiar?”

The couple stiffened. 

Silence. 

Anakin folded his arms and furrowed his brows, “they came here. Didn’t they?” His tone lowered. 

Silence. 

“They paid you.” Obi-wan spoke calmly, already analysing the situation. 

The purple woman looked down, and then gently picked up the half used medpac, her hands shaking. 

“The girl…was worried.” Her voice was soft spoken. “Not for herself, but him. He was bleeding.”

Obi-wan crossed his arms, parallel to Anakin and stared down the medpac. “So you helped them..”

“It is not a crime to help someone!” The man besides her called out defensively, squinting his eyes. 

“Well it is a crime to help terrorists,” Anakin muttered, but loud enough for everyone to hear. 

“Terrorists?” The woman's eyes widened. “They were terrorists?”

Obi-wan glanced over to Anakin and tried to laugh it off, not wanting to send the couple into cardiac arrest. “Well. We aren’t sure of anything.” He tilted his head. “Do you know where they are now?”

The older woman nodded speedily,  “She said she was heading to the city square where the protests are. Near the farmers market. But..she was scared.” 

Anakin lifted his brow, “of what?” 

Looking him dead in the eye, “being seen,” she announced. 

–

Obi-wan and Anakin were on the outskirts, just enough steps to see the masses of bodies that moved. 

Protestors moved, some shouted and some watched. It wasn’t long before Obi-wan caught a flicker. 

A flicker of gold that was reflecting from the sun. Moving too fast. An uncomfortable limp. 

Obi-wan’s eyes widened and locked onto the figure. Blonde hair. Broad shoulders. It was worth a shot. 

“That might be him,” Anakin huffed, already making his way down, eager to end this mission.

Obi-wan rolled his eyes, “Always ahead of the game,” he said, racing down the steps and into the crowd. 

It was suffocating. You could feel the sweat and anger that radiated off the bodies. 

Obi-wan pushed through bodies, wanting the man to enter a clearing before holding him in the masses of people. Locals were yelling in languages he didn’t recognise which only intensified everything around him. His cloak constantly was snagging on someone’s arm but he didn’t stop, pushing through, curses were flying at him.

He needed an opening - just one - and it would be fine. 

Something is off. 

The force rippled. 

The blonde headed man suddenly turned his head towards Obi-wan.

It was him. It was Dev. 

And not far behind him was a cloaked figure. Her. 

Dev locked eyes with Obi-wan, his eyes widening and stray locks of hair falling on his face. 

“Jedi!” Dev exclaimed to you, his eyes darting between behind you and yourself. 

Without even taking a chance to glance behind you, you began to push through the crowd. Gritting your teeth, you used your arms to almost shove people out of the way. You could not be caught as a bounty hunter. It was not necessarily the legality of it, it was the bombing that was associated with you and it was your honour shattering that you have been reduced to this much. How low the galaxy forced you to crawl just to survive. 

Just a little further. A  little further and there was an opening and you got yourself out of this mess. 

“Dev! Over there!” You barked, pointing towards the clearing. Dev nodded and attempted to make his way out with his limp. His face pale but understanding. He always understood. Understood you. You didn’t need to speak much for him to completely understand you. 

You surged through the crowd with all your might. Suddenly hyper aware of the blaster at your side, your fingers grazed it, ready to use if anyone tried touching you. 

Relief. Oxygen. As you finally made it out of the crowd. Your hands were shaking but you didn’t stop, you can’t stop. 

And then- a shove. 

Dev’s body slammed into the ground right where he was supposed to make it out and the Jedi tackled him to the side. You heard him grunt in protest, his wrists pinned and the right of his face scraped against the ground. 

Before you could react and turn back to Dev, you heard the hum of a saber. 

Right behind you. 

What should I do?

Fuck. 

They’re getting closer. 

Your lungs feel like they could explode and your chest hurts. You’re running so fast. Any of that relief you had just felt from making it out was gone. Dead. You just felt like you were burning. Your veins pumping with adrenaline – hot and sharp and screaming. 

You didn’t dare look behind you. If you did it would slow you down immensely. 

But it didn’t matter. 

A rough hand –bigger than your own– pulling on your forearm, throwing you down, your hood falling in the process. Without another second to think your free arm gripped onto your vibroblade. Having been pulled down to the ground, you shifted your body to meet the Jedi, your blade coated in cortosis weave and pointing up towards said person. 

.

..

…

“Y/n?”

It was like time stopped. 

You locked eyes. 

Your mouth fell open. 

His did too. Confusion. Bewilderment. Shock. All on his face. 

His voice… Sounded different. Quieter than you remembered. It wasn’t anger. It wasn’t hateful. Just quiet. Broken. 

Your right hand weakened and the blade fell down on the floor besides you, the metal clanging against the concrete. Your palms fell on the floor and you found yourself staring at…Anakin above you. 

Anakin staggered back, stunned, as if he was shot straight through the heart. His head shook slowly and ever so subtly but in complete disbelief.

No one said anything. You couldn’t hear anything. It was just you two. Two broken people. The force felt electrifying, like it was rippling and pulling both of you towards each other. 

Anakin loomed over you, the deep blue of his saber still humming, but pointing towards the ground. His own arms feeling too weak to even lift it. His face was unreadable. His dark brown hair looked longer, almost below his ears. His eyes…tired. Like he was staring at a grave. 

It wasn’t until the other Jedi came out, holding Dev in handcuffs that you realised your situation. It was Obi-wan, of course it was. Of course it was Anakin and Obi-wan who would catch up to you. Dev struggled in defiance, his face discontent. 

Obi-wan walked up beside Anakin, and then his eyes fell on you. 

“Y/n?” His voice was quiet, like he wasn’t sure if this was real or not. “You’re Ani?” 

You looked away from him, pursing your lips in shame. What were you supposed to say? You weren’t supposed to be caught, stripped of your mask. You were just supposed to be Ani. Not Y/n. 

You swallowed hard, your fingers soft in comparison to the floor. You were now looking up to both Anakin and Obi-wan but –force– you felt so much smaller than you actually were. 

Anakin inhaled sharply, his saber hissed off yet his grip strong enough that his knuckles were still white. Running a hand through his hair, he turned his back to you, moving away from both you and Obi-wan. You felt the disappointment in the air. You felt the judgement from the people who you used to consider the closest to you. Anakin turning his back to you after a year said more words than he did.

But he could feel his heart hammering against his chest.

thump

He was suddenly hyper aware of his breathing.

thump-thump

The way he wasn't sure what to do with his empty left hand.

thump

The fact that his knees would buck in any minute.

thump-thump-thump

It felt like everything was swirling around him and he needed to ground himself.

However, Obi-wan walked over to you, crouching down to eye level. You noticed the small things in his face, the way he had worry lines on his forehead, a slight frown, and furrowed eyebrows. He wasn’t looking at you like a master or a commander, but a concerned friend. 

“Y/n, you became a bounty hunter?” He asked. 

You didn’t know how to respond. What were you going to say? Yes? Well, yes you are. But suddenly you felt embarrassed. Ashamed. 

“I…” You croaked out. 

“You know them?” Dev called out, struggling against his cuffs. All three of you diverted your gaze to Dev.

Dev broke Anakin from his trance, his need to distract himself hitting him harder than ever. He needed to redirect his attention to something else just like he was doing for the past year. Anakin stood still for a moment before grabbing the back of his shirt, replacing Obi-wan but far too aggressively.

“Hold her.” Anakin said to Obi-wan, forcing his voice to be strong. “We’ll take them somewhere else.”

That’s it? That’s all he’s going to say? 

Anakin spoke as if he didn’t know you. Like you were some lowlife smuggler. Obi-wan even felt caught between two worlds. Was he supposed to disregard your history together? Or would he hold you accountable? 

Clearing his throat, Obi-wan pulled out stuncuffs from his satchel, looking at you as if you were a wounded animal. 

“I’m just going to put these on just for now. Precaution.” He said softly. 

Nodding, you slipped in your fallen vibroblade to your belt and slowly brought out both your arms in front of him. Obi-wan hesitantly and carefully attached the cuffs to your arms.

Click. 

Immediate discomfort radiated in your arms, the restraints tightening specifically on your wrists.

You looked up at Obi-wan who you could tell was uncomfortable with the situation. 

“I’m fine, Obi-wan.” You tried to reassure him. 

Obi-wan nodded, inhaling deeply before getting up. Scrambling to your feet against the concrete, you rose and immediately felt smaller than you were. Now seeing both Obi-wan and Anakin in their usual height, it felt different. Like there was a rift between you three.

Looking over at Anakin, Obi-wan scratched his beard. “We won’t be able to fly tonight. It seems the city's protests will make it difficult to get out slyly.” 

Without a response, Anakin began to drag a cursing Dev to Force knows where. 

Obi-wan followed behind him but distant enough, making sure you were keeping up. 

The walk felt excruciatingly long as there was nothing but pained silence. Every now and then you could feel Obi-wan’s gaze drill holes in you. Anakin said and did nothing but hold onto Dev and try to find an abandoned place for the night. You were lucky enough Obi-wan still trusted you to allow you to walk on your own. 

It wasn’t until he broke the silence. 

“Are you okay?” Obi-wan spoke in a hushed voice, trying not to gain Anakin’s attention but that was naive thinking. Anakin heard everything when it came to you. 

You blinked at the question, unsure what to say. Your throat tightening but you forced out an “I’m okay.” 

Silence. 

A beat passed. 

“Are you?” He asked again but much quieter. He knew your response and he knew not to expect an answer but if he didn’t ask now it would eat his conscience later. 

“Yeah. Just tired.” Anakin’s grip tightened on Dev, their boots scraping and their clothes shifting pulled your focus. 

The sky began to set and orange rays stretched far and wide. Dipped in dusk and every step you took would create long shadows of the three of you. The chants from the protest began to fade and street lights began to flicker on. 

Anakin was a walking storm. He was silent. You missed the way he said your name. It sounded like honey -warm, golden- like he almost remembered what it meant to him. Except he didn't.

Instead, it was a taste from a dream he couldn’t quite remember. 

Anakin stopped at a stone-framed building. Abandoned, yes but still intact. The door had its hinges, there was no lights except from the windows and no lifeforms either. Without saying a word, Anakin dragged Dev inside, the door creaking open and they vanished into the unknown.

You and Obi-wan stood in silence. 

“He’ll be alright.” He said gently, not exactly sure if he meant Dev or Anakin. Nodding, you stepped inside first, the evening wind biting your skin. Obi-wan followed right behind you. 

A/N: YAAAY ITS HAPPENED im sorry its kinda on a cliff hanger ik yall want longer chapters but i also need to catch up and write :( also just a general q do u guys want this to be a full blown series leading up to order 66 following the clone wars final season/eps with more drama and romance and angst or keep it until this like 'arc' ends.

i lowk feel like a longer series but i feel like tumblr isnt the right place for this lol maybe ao3 or wattpad also hope u guys appreciate me trying to use coordinated gifs for the chapters 😭

HOPE U GUYS LIKE IT THO <3

Taglist: @endairachristensen26 @hayden-christensen-verse @ducks118 @seventeen-x @movingalongthekiwi @ssnapsaurus @caramelfondu @dayrin085 @devilslittlehelper @f1wh0recom @green-lxght @bettysgardenswift

if u want to be added or removed lmk!

[flufftober]

🍀🍂 Hello and welcome to Flufftober's (first) Fluff Bingo 🍀🍂

In our poll, nearly 50% of you voted for a handful of bingo cards to fill the other half of the year with more fluff before we jump right back into the excitement that is Flufftober - and of course, we're here to deliver 😊

Find all the important info, more cards, and all the prompts in writing below the cut.

We hope you like this event and our prompts, and now

Happy Creating 🥳

🍀 Pick your card - we offer:

🍂 one card with 5x5 prompts (as seen at the top)

🍂 two cards with 3x3 prompts:

🍂 three themed cards with 1x5 prompts:

🍂 and as a bonus, a 3x3 card with tasks instead of prompts:

🍀 How does this work?

🍂 our standard blog rules apply and you'll find answers to most questions on our FAQ post

🍂 aside from that, you can go wild: fill these cards however you like, as quick or as slow as you like, as often as you like, and use as many of them as you like. We just want you to have fun 😊

🍂 if there are prompts on the bigger cards you don't like, feel free to use the 1x5 cards as alternate prompts and switch them out

🍂 download the cards and tick them off once you've finished a square; make a post for every square or only once you have a bingo or even a blackout - it's all up to you!

🍂 as with all our events, this one will never close, you can always use these cards. If you need a timeframe/deadline because (like me) you'll never finish otherwise, consider these loose goals:

finish until July 1st when we release the new Flufftober list

finish during October, maybe by combining some of these with the Flufftober prompts

finish until the end of the year so you're ready for whatever event we plan for next spring

🍀 What about tumblr reblogs and ao3?

🍂 tumblr reblogs will still happen but not daily as you're used to during Flufftober. It will strongly depend on how many posts there happen to be at a time and how the modmin team will have time. But as long as you mention us and/or use the tag (and follow the rules, obviously), reblogs will happen

🍂 please use the tag #fluffbingo

🍂 feel free to also add the general #flufftober tag

🍂 please make sure to clearly show the fandom, either in the first few tags or noticeably in the post

🍂 contrary to how we do it during Flufftober, we will only use four tags during reblogs this time: #fluffbingo #fluffreblog #[fandom] #[your user name] - that means we will not tag any ships, characters, or which prompt you're covering

🍂 on ao3, our collection for this event is Flufftober Fluff Bingo

Prompts

We're going left to right, top to bottom!

🍂 5x5 card

Fresh Start

To-Do List

Craft Fair

Creature AU

“This was a bad idea.”

Exploring Together

Plushie

Secret Signal

“You’ll love it.”

Late Night

Hidden (...)

“It’s just so much.”

Free Space

Fake Dating

Carnival

“You’re the best!”

Royal AU

Missing the Other

Never ever, ever

Rainbow

Hanahaki

Pep Talk

“I really mean it.”

Hoodie

Movie AU

🍂 3x3 card I

“Where do I start?”

Famous AU

Traveling the World Together

Enjoying a Lazy Day

Task: Write in a tense you usually don’t write/write less than another tense

“You said you had it handled!” - “Yeah, well, I lied.”

Birthday

“Hey, wait, that’s mine.”

Direction

🍂 3x3 card II

“You’re late!”

Hospital AU

Grocery Shopping Together

Going for a Walk

Task: Write from a POV you usually don’t write/write less than another POV

“Could you not do that, please?” - “Spoilsport.”

Sunshine

“I don’t know, you decide.”

Concert

🍂 1x5 card - Smiles

Secret Smile

Relieved Smile

Honest Smile

Devious Smile

Teary Smile

🍂 1x5 card - Hugs

Soothing Hug

Hug in Celebration

Sleepy Hug

Hug from behind

Desperate Hug

🍂 1x5 card - Kisses

Kiss on the Hand

Kiss to distract

Goodbye Kiss

Forhead Kiss

Kiss on the Cheek

🍂 3x3 card - Tasks

Finish your WIP

Sort all your Ideas and/or WIPs

Edit an entire Chapter or Oneshot

Outline a Story

Work on that hard Scene that is giving you so much trouble it is holding you back

Finish the next Chapter of your WIP

Join in a Writing Event (this card doesn’t count 😉 but the others do!)

Finish a Oneshot

Dig out an old Draft and work on it

Have Fun and Go Wild 🥳

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

Now I have to ask- WHY do you hate Pacific Rim?

Okay, fair warning, this is about as bitter and salty and small-minded as day-old caviar. But. My bitter, salty (probably fishy) opinion:

Pacific Rim is only a good movie because it's a well-written story about robots punching monsters.

That's it. That's all there is to the movie.

I started out merely disappointed by Pacific Rim. We went gaga for the preview materials that promised these unique well-rounded character pairs and trios with these idiosyncratic robots from all these different Pacific nations... And then the movie itself is about some bland white American guy who pilots a robot named a racial slur, the second most fleshed-out team is bland white Australian guys, and the Chinese team is there, kind of, in the background, but don't worry they're going to die first. The "character-driven story" turned out to be "various characters take turns punching aliens" but, sure, whatever, I love the MCU so why not.

The day I went from "Pacific Rim is overrated" to "Pacific Rim is the worst thing that has ever happened to human civilization, I'm extremely normal about this" was the day I saw a Tumblr post suggesting we replace the Bechdel test with the Mako Mori test. Because Mako Mori has her own plot and doesn't kiss North Carolina at the end, making her a whole new type of feminist icon.

To which I was like:

We are talking about the same movie here, right? The Pacific Rim that can't even pass the Bechdel test? The Pacific Rim that's all about might-makes-right, the Pacific Rim that has ONE speaking role for ONE female character in its (from IMDB) 50-person cast? The Pacific Rim that repeatedly puts its only female character in danger and has her rescued by first Idris Elba then North Carolina? THAT Pacific Rim?

Is there a different Mako Mori I haven't met? Because the one I've seen a) has a character arc driven by deciding whether to obey her father or follow her heart, which is as inoffensive and stale as an unblessed communion wafer, b) does nothing that Ellen Ripley didn't do 30 years earlier, but with about 5% of the character depth Ripley got, and c) stands there in silence looking sad as two men punch each other over the question of her virtue.

Any post assuming this movie invented the idea of "small Asian woman kicks monster ass" needs to learn its damn history. Especially the ones acting like her being physically small is somehow a feminist bonus. There's something embarrassingly ahistorical about the whole thing.

And look. I get how we got here. I know how easily Tumblr backs you into a rhetorical corner of "calling a story Good can never mean merely 'enjoyable'; calling a story Good must mean 'virtuous'". Until next thing you know you're arguing that actually, shipping Obi-Wan/Darth Vader is a net good for all of society, because gay divorced middle-aged tyrants who use supplemental oxygen and murdered their exes in a custody dispute over the one kid (out of two) they actually care about deserve to see themselves in sci fi too! You only end up in that corner because half the time you're arguing against someone who says that shipping Obi-Wan/Darth Vader is literally the same thing as supporting father-son incest, so your real reasons for shipping them (1. foe yay, 2. old man yaoi) seem wildly insufficient.

Much of what I see about Pacific Rim seems neck-deep in the "it's not allowed to be a Good Movie unless it single-handedly dismantles the patriarchy" fallacy. There's nothing progressive about shipping two dudes best known for chopping off each other's body parts with laser swords. And there's nothing progressive about a movie having its only female character hug the male protagonist at the end instead of kissing him. You're allowed to like a thing just because it's well-made, without acting like a bog-standard normatively-broey action flick somehow invented a new form of feminism. Anyway, "Pacific Rim is a perfectly fine movie" is the hill I will die upon, heretical though it may be.

[shaiyasstuff]

stay | sylus

synopsis : You tried to forget him. But love doesn’t forget. It lingers in doorways and unsent goodbyes—until running feels safer than staying.

content : some other alternate reality, best friend’s brother trope

word count : 7k

now playing : paris in the rain - lauv

You smiled to yourself, barely, the corners of your lips curling as the knife tapped rhythmically against the cutting board.

The sound was steady, soothing—just beneath the surface of Shaiya’s voice as she launched into another retelling of her morning. Something about the god awful traffic.

Something about how her brother had the audacity to drop her off late. Again.

Her brother.

Sylus.

The name alone was enough to loosen the air in your lungs.

Tall, quiet, eyes like burning coals beneath a winter sky. That strange silver hair that caught sunlight like it was spun from frost.

Too beautiful for his own good.

Your fingers faltered for half a second. Just half. Heat bloomed across your cheeks like petals unfolding at dawn, and you bowed your head, willing the blush to pass as you resumed cutting.

“You good?” Shaiya called, amused. “You look like a cherry blossom sneezed on your face.”

You huffed a laugh. “That’s rude.”

The door chimed—a soft jingle that pulled you back into motion. You stepped out front with a practiced smile, greeting customers, taking orders, keeping your hands busy so your heart wouldn’t wander too far.

Behind you, Shaiya leaned on the doorframe, arms crossed, her ponytail falling loose with the humidity. “Thank god you’re here,” she said, voice warm with truth. “I’d be six feet under in espresso by now.”

You laughed, tossing a dish towel over your shoulder. “What kind of best friend would I be if I let you go down with the coffee ship?”

“Twelve years of friendship,” she declared dramatically, pouring a latte. “Still worth it.”

Shaiya’s café sat nestled in a quiet curve of the downtown street, ivy creeping over its brick exterior like an old secret.

You’d stepped in to help right after graduation—just a temporary thing, you told yourself.

Until the next door opened.

Until you figured things out.

Three years later, and you were still here. Same apron. Same view out the window. Same quiet life, small and steady and full of tiny comforts.

It wasn’t extraordinary.

But it was enough.

Or at least, that’s what you told yourself.

Because you held a secret.

Not the kind that could be confessed in passing or laughed away over coffee.

No, this one was older—worn soft at the edges from being held too tightly. A quiet ache you carried like a pressed flower between the pages of your life.

It had lived there for years. Tucked beneath every stolen glance. Every heartbeat that stuttered when he entered the room. Every time his name passed through Shaiya’s lips like it meant nothing—when to you, it meant everything.

You had feelings for Sylus.

And that truth, as fragile as it was, felt too dangerous to speak. Because if it ever left your chest, it might ruin the only thing you had—this life, this café, this careful closeness you shared with the sister of the boy you loved.

So you buried it.

Deep beneath laughter and routine.

And told yourself it was enough.

—•

“Why should we need your permission to date your brother?”

“Yeah, screw off before I beat you up!”

Your heart hammered in your chest, wild and thunderous, as you stepped forward instinctively, placing yourself between Shaiya and the group of girls closing in.

Their bats gleamed under the afternoon sun, cheap wood and bad intentions.

Shaiya scoffed behind you, utterly unfazed. “I have standards, thank you. No way I’d let my brother date girls who smell like expired perfume and desperation.”

“Shaiya,” you hissed under your breath, throwing a hand back to keep her behind you. “Stop.”

One of the girls snarled and raised her bat. Your breath hitched. You shut your eyes, bracing yourself.

And then—

“Walk away before I make you regret it.”

That voice.

Low. Gritted. Cold as steel dragged across gravel.

Your eyes flew open.

There he stood.

Sylus.

A wall between you and the world, sleeves rolled, expression carved from stone.

Back turned to you like a shield.

That was when you had realised, you were in love with him.

“Y/N.”

Shaiya’s voice stirred you from your thoughts, soft but amused, pulling you back to the present like a thread tugged gently through fabric.

You turned, blinking as if waking from a dream.

“Yeah?”

She tilted her head, a knowing smile playing on her lips. “You’ve been staring at my brother for a while.”

Heat rose unbidden to your cheeks. You started to speak—some excuse, some denial—but she was already following your gaze.

Sylus stood just beyond the counter, sleeves still rolled, wiping his hands with a towel. His expression unreadable as always, but there was a quiet in him today. A stillness, like the hush of the sky before the first snow.

Shaiya chuckled softly. “He can be quite gentle sometimes, right?”

You swallowed, your voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah… he can.”

But what you didn’t say hung heavily in the space between you.

He’s gentle when no one’s looking.

Gentle in the way he hands you your favorite mug without asking.

Gentle in the silence he keeps so you don’t have to explain your sadness.

Gentle in a world that rarely offers you kindness.

You looked away, afraid she might see too much.

And perhaps she already had.

“Look at you,” Shaiya drawled behind you, her tone sing-song and merciless. “Always avoiding him. Do you like him or something?”

You nearly tripped over your own feet as you spun around, heart lurching. “W–What? No way! He’s not even my type!”

She only laughed, loud and unbothered, slipping beside you as if she hadn’t just tossed a grenade into your carefully maintained composure.

“Oh? Then what is your type, hmm? Tell me, I’ll play matchmaker. I know people.”

You said nothing. Couldn’t.

Your blush spoke louder than any words could manage, burning across your cheeks like dawn creeping over a horizon.

And still—your eyes betrayed you.

They flicked toward Sylus, where he stood in the soft golden wash of closing hour, wiping down tables, sleeves pushed up, silver hair catching the fading light.

How could anyone not like him?

The street outside had grown quiet. The kind of quiet that comes after a long day, when even the city holds its breath.

Shaiya stepped out, tugging her coat tighter as she made her way to the waiting car.

“She’s not coming?” Sylus asked, eyes on the rearview mirror, though his tone barely gave him away.

Shaiya smirked, arching a brow as she slid into the passenger seat. “You already know the answer. Shouldn’t you be used to it by now?”

He grunted, low and dismissive. “Shut up.”

The engine hummed to life. The car pulled away.

And from the second-story window, you watched them go—hands pressed lightly to the glass, breath fogging the pane.

The lights of the café flickered out behind you, the night folding in like a sigh.

“I have someone I like.”

Even now, the words echo—soft but sharp, like a paper cut across memory. He had said it so casually, as if it meant nothing, as if he hadn’t just split your world in two.

It was during your school days. Shaiya had teased him, poked at his ever-serious facade like she always did, and he’d let the words slip without looking up.

Your heart had leapt in that moment. Both soaring and sinking.

Maybe… maybe it was you.

But maybe—more likely—it would never be.

You sighed, the weight of the past settling over your shoulders as you closed the book in your lap. Its spine creaked softly in protest, like even it didn’t want the chapter to end.

A small mewl cut through the silence.

You looked down to see Lucifer—your cat—padding toward you, his ruby eyes curious, head tilted just so.

You smiled, leaning down to scoop him into your arms. His body was warm against your chest, soft and alive.

“Oh, Lucifer,” you whispered, voice barely more than a breath, “what am I gonna do?”

He blinked at you slowly. Then let out a plaintive little meow, as if he understood every syllable of your sorrow.

That night, you fell asleep curled up on the couch, a blanket draped over your legs, Lucifer pressed at your feet like a silent guardian.

And in your dreams, you stood in the rain. Your voice trembled, but you said it anyway.

“I like you.”

For once, he looked back. And for once, he didn’t walk away.

—•

The café smelled of rain and something sweet—vanilla, maybe, or the promise of a slower morning.

You arrived earlier than usual, unlocking the doors just as the first light stretched pale fingers across the street.

Clouds hung low, the world still damp from last night’s drizzle, the sky a soft gray that made everything feel softer, quieter.

The bell above the door chimed, and in walked Shaiya—hood up, sleeves too long, a coffee cup clutched between her hands like a lifeline.

“You’re early,” she said, voice half-yawn, half-surprise.

“Couldn’t sleep,” you murmured, smoothing your apron as you tied it on.

She hummed, setting her cup down and stretching her arms overhead. “Must be the weather,” she said, “feels like the world’s still dreaming.”

You didn’t answer. You were still dreaming, in a way.

Of a boy with silver hair and tired eyes.

Of a voice that once said, I have someone I like.

Of a you who was brave enough to ask who.

The machines whirred to life beneath Shaiya’s hands, the café waking up with its usual rhythm.

You moved through the motions without thinking, the warmth of routine grounding you, though your mind wandered far from the tile floor and polished cups.

“You know,” Shaiya said as she handed you a mug, “sometimes I wish he came by more often.”

You blinked. “Who?”

She gave you a playful look. “Sylus. My brother. You two used to talk more when we were younger, right? I always thought it was nice.”

Your fingers tightened around the ceramic.

She didn’t notice—just smiled, breezy and warm. “He acts cold, but he listens, you know? Always ends up remembering things you didn’t think he would.”

You nodded wordlessly.

Then Shaiya laughed.

“Don’t worry, I’m not trying to set you up or anything. He’s too grumpy for that. Still… I think he could use someone who softens him a little.”

Your heart stuttered.

But you said nothing, just took the mug to the window seat like she asked.

Outside, the rain had stopped. The sky remained gray, but there was a certain kind of stillness in the morning light that made everything feel possible.

Even if it wasn’t.

The morning unraveled slowly, like yarn slipping from loose fingers.

You refilled sugar jars. Wiped down windows. Let the hush of early hours settle into your bones like a familiar lullaby.

Outside, the street was quiet—just the occasional passing car, the rustle of trees shaking off last night’s rain.

Shaiya worked beside you, sleeves rolled, hair pinned in that messy way she always insisted was intentional. She hummed under her breath, some nameless tune, soft and off-key.

Every now and then, she’d bump her shoulder into yours, and you’d smile like everything inside you wasn’t carefully folded and hidden.

“I wonder what it’d be like to live somewhere else,” she mused suddenly, hands deep in a bag of beans. “Not forever. Just… to try. Big city. Rooftop bars. Men in suits who aren’t chronically sleep-deprived.”

You laughed under your breath. “Sounds dangerous.”

She grinned. “Sounds alive.”

You didn’t respond. Because your version of alive wasn’t neon lights and unfamiliar sidewalks—it was something smaller. Simpler.

It was a cup placed silently beside you, before you even asked.

It was a glance across a quiet room.

It was a boy who rarely spoke, but always seemed to understand.

“I think he’d visit,” she added, almost absentmindedly. “If I ever left. Sylus, I mean. He acts like he wouldn’t, but he would. He always shows up eventually.”

You nodded, not trusting your voice.

Eventually.

The word clung to you like steam on glass.

Somewhere behind the counter, the coffee dripped slow and steady into the pot.

The smell was warm, bitter, comforting.

And time passed, as it always does.

Quietly.

Until something changed.

The hours slipped by, unnoticed.

Midday brought a flutter of customers, laughter echoing off the café walls, the hum of conversation filling the empty spaces between your thoughts.

Shaiya handled the register, you manned the bar—falling into rhythm, into habit, into the gentle blur of familiarity.

By the time the sky began to dim, the scent of rain was already in the air—earthy, electric. Shaiya checked the weather app and groaned.

“Looks like we’re getting another round,” she muttered, shrugging on her coat. “I texted Sylus. He’s picking me up again.”

You nodded, wrapping up the last few dishes. The café was quiet now. Nearly closed.

“Need a ride?” she asked over her shoulder, already halfway out the door.

You shook your head, too quickly. “It’s fine. I’ve got my umbrella.”

She didn’t press. Just smiled and left with the soft jingle of the door behind her.

From the window, you watched her climb into his car—Sylus in the driver’s seat, leaned slightly back, hand resting on the wheel like it belonged there.

The rain came quickly.

A sudden hush, then the soft patter against rooftops, then more—a steady rhythm that blurred streetlights into halos and soaked the world in silver.

You stepped outside, umbrella opening with a reluctant click. The chill clung to your clothes, and the air smelled like memory.

You walked. Slow. Head low. Feet careful on the slick pavement.

And your thoughts—of course—drifted back to him.

To the way he never looked surprised to see you, even when he should’ve been.

To the way he never said much, but when he did, you listened.

To the space he occupied in your chest without even trying.

Maybe it was stupid, still hoping. Still thinking of him when he likely thought of everything else but you.

You sighed.

Then—headlights.

A soft purr of an engine drawing closer. Slowing.

Sylus’ car pulled up beside you, its lights casting long shadows across the rain-soaked road. The window rolled down.

Shaiya leaned across from the passenger seat, grinning through the drizzle. “What did I say about walking home like a tragic novel character?”

You blinked, startled. “I— I’m fine—”

“No, you’re not,” she cut in. “Get in, dummy. Before you start narrating your heartbreak to the clouds.”

Her tone was light, teasing. She didn’t know. She never knew.

The passenger door opened—Sylus had leaned across silently, unbuckling her seatbelt to make space. He didn’t say a word, but his eyes were on you. Unmoving. Waiting.

Rain slid down your umbrella, pooling at your feet.

And before you could stop yourself, your hand moved.

The door creaked open.

You got in.

The door closed.

And for the first time in a long time, you were three people in a car—with one secret pressing against your ribs like it wanted out.

Your gaze wandered, following the sway of rain across the windows, the blur of passing streetlights painting golden streaks over the glass. Then it caught—something small, familiar.

Hanging from the rearview mirror was a charm—woven thread, pale blue and white, worn slightly at the edges from time and touch.

Your breath caught before your voice did.

“I always wondered where it went,” you murmured, leaning forward slightly. “Why is it here?”

Shaiya turned in her seat, grinning as she glanced between you and the charm. “Because my emotionally constipated brother’s car needed more colour,” she said sweetly.

You blinked, startled by the honesty and the ease of it.

Sylus reached over without a word and pinched her cheek, earning a dramatic yelp. “Ow! Hey! I was complimenting your character development!”

“You weren’t,” he said, low.

You laughed—quiet and real, the sound catching you off guard more than them.

And for a moment, everything felt suspended. Still.

You didn’t see it—but in the rearview mirror, his gaze never left you. Not even for a second.

Not as your laugh faded into silence.

Not as you leaned back again, hugging your arms to your chest.

Not even when the charm swayed gently with the motion of the car—between you both, like a secret too old to speak.

The drive wore on under a blanket of rain, the world outside blurred into watercolors—streetlights smearing gold across windows, puddles blooming across the road in soft ripples.

Shaiya’s voice, once a constant stream of stories and laughter, had faded into a gentle hum. You glanced forward.

Her head had lolled slightly against the window, breath steady, hands tucked into the sleeves of her jacket.

The rhythm of the rain had lulled her into sleep, and she looked younger like this—softer, peaceful in a way you rarely saw.

You didn’t say anything. Neither did Sylus.

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward. It was full—of things neither of you dared to say.

He didn’t look at you, eyes fixed on the road, one hand resting on the wheel, the other relaxed near the gearshift.

You sat in the back, still, the sound of rain once again filling the space between you and him.

The charm swung faintly from the mirror—your charm. The one you gave Shaiya years ago, when you were both too young to know what permanence meant.

He didn’t speak. Didn’t look back.

Just reached out and adjusted the rearview mirror.

His eyes met yours.

For a moment, nothing existed beyond that small reflection. Just you, and him, and the impossible weight of everything you never said.

Then—

“You still make those?” he asked, voice low and rough from disuse.

You blinked. “Huh?”

“The charms,” he clarified. “You used to give them to everyone. Shaiya… your classmates. You stopped.”

You hadn’t realized he remembered. Or noticed at all.

“I don’t know,” you said softly. “I guess I didn’t feel like they worked.”

A pause.

“Yours did,” he said, and looked away too quickly, like it hadn’t meant anything at all.

Your heart beat too loudly in your chest.

The rain continued to fall, and the car sat still in the quiet streetlight haze.

Outside, the world was wet and golden and lonely.

Inside, you could barely breathe.

The car slowed to a stop in front of your apartment building, tires humming against the wet road. You reached for the handle, but paused, your gaze slipping once more to Shaiya.

She had fallen asleep not long after the roads grew quiet. Her head rested against the window, her breath fogging the glass in gentle bursts.

In sleep, she looked small again.

Softer. You wondered if she was dreaming of home.

You moved carefully, not wanting to wake her, fingers brushing over the door latch—

“I’ll walk you,” Sylus said.

You froze, glancing toward the front. His voice was calm, low, like always—but there was a firmness in it, an edge of something unreadable.

You hesitated. “It’s fine, really. I’m used to—”

“I’ll walk you,” he repeated. No space left for argument.

So you nodded.

Outside, the wind met you first—cool and damp, threading its way through the folds of your coat.

You opened your umbrella with a soft click, the rain meeting the canvas with a hush like whispers.

He didn’t open one of his own. Just stepped beside you, hands in the pockets of his dark coat, silver hair catching droplets like a halo.

You walked side by side beneath the streetlights, the silence between you stretching long and delicate.

Each footstep was a quiet echo, each breath shared in the fragile space beneath the umbrella.

It should have been easy.

It wasn’t.

Your chest felt tight. Like something was blooming inside you, too wild to hold, too old to ignore.

The charm still lingered in your mind—the one you gave Shaiya so long ago, now hanging from his rearview mirror like a memory refusing to fade.

He kept it.

You didn’t want to think about what that meant.

Didn’t want to let your heart believe.

You glanced at him, just once. The side of his face was quiet in the dark, sharp in its stillness. His eyes fixed ahead, unreadable. Distant.

Like always.

And then, like a ghost, the voice of memory stirred.

“I just don’t want anyone to steal my brother from me.”

Shaiya had said it once, back in school. Half-pouting, half-serious, when the two of you sat eating cheap snacks behind the gym.

The sun had been warm that day, and you’d laughed at her dramatic tone.

You remembered your response.

A quiet vow, almost silly back then.

“I won’t.”

You never meant to fall for him.

But feelings don’t ask for permission.

They just… grow.

And now—now that vow clung to you like a chain.

I can’t be the one who steals him.

You reached your door.

Fumbled with the keys, hands trembling slightly—whether from the cold or something else, you couldn’t tell.

Sylus stopped beside you, saying nothing.

The rain gathered at your heels. The light above your door flickered faintly.

You turned the key. The lock clicked open.

But you didn’t step inside.

You stayed there, fingers curled around the doorknob, eyes downcast.

“Thanks,” you murmured. “For the ride. And… for walking me.”

He didn’t respond right away. You thought that would be the end of it.

But then—

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

The words cut through the quiet like a thread snapping under tension.

You turned to him too fast, heart stumbling. “I haven’t.”

He gave you a look. One that didn’t accuse. Just… waited.

You swallowed hard. “I haven’t,” you said again, softer. “I just… didn’t want to get in the way. Of you. Of Shaiya. This life.”

A silence.

Rain fell between your words, steady and unrelenting.

“You’re not in the way,” he said, voice low. Rougher now. “You never were.”

You looked at him then. Really looked.

His eyes weren’t cold like you remembered them. They were… tired. And something else. Something quiet. Something like—

Hope?

The umbrella drooped slightly in your hand. Neither of you moved.

The rain kissed his hair, clung to his coat, shimmered along his lashes. And he was just standing there, saying the smallest things that somehow meant the most.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” you confessed, barely breathing. “I think I’ve been waiting. For something. For… nothing. I don’t know.”

He didn’t offer comfort. Didn’t reach for you. Didn’t promise anything.

But he didn’t leave.

And that, somehow, was everything.

You stepped back slowly, into the warm light of your apartment, your heart pulling at the doorway like it didn’t want to part.

“Goodnight, Sylus.”

A pause.

Then, “Goodnight.”

And just before the door closed, your eyes caught his one last time.

He hadn’t moved.

Just stood there.

Looking at you like he didn’t want to look away.

The door shut behind you with a soft, final sound—

Like the closing line of a story he hadn’t finished reading.

Sylus stood there a moment too long, rain slipping down the collar of his coat, trailing along his jaw, gathering at the edge of his lashes. He barely noticed.

The cold didn’t bite.

What did—was the look in your eyes.

I didn’t want to get in the way.

You weren’t in the way.

You were the way.

He drew a breath through his nose, jaw tightening as he turned and made his way back to the car.

Inside, the heat hit him like a held breath released—warm, fogging the windows, thick with the scent of sleep.

Shaiya was still curled in the passenger seat, head tilted toward the window, breathing slow.

He slid behind the wheel, closed the door with care. Tried not to disturb the quiet.

But she stirred anyway.

“Mm,” she mumbled, her voice sleep-rough, teasing as it slipped through the dim. “You watched her the whole way to the door, didn’t you?”

Sylus didn’t answer. His hands rested on the wheel, knuckles pale beneath the soft glow of the dashboard lights.

Shaiya cracked one eye open, catching the tension in his shoulders. A slow smile tugged at her mouth. “You’re ridiculous.”

She yawned, arms stretching as she added, “I should charge you every time you look at her like she’s the only thing left keeping you tethered.”

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t deny it.

She studied him for a beat longer, then softened.

“She doesn’t know… does she?”

Still, silence.

“I mean, you’ve liked her for what—ten years? Since that day she tripped and dropped her lunch in the hallway and you picked up every last grape?”

His brow twitched. “That wasn’t—”

Shaiya snorted. “Please. You’ve been quietly pining like some tragic poetic antihero since we were teenagers.”

“She’s your friend,” he said at last. “I didn’t want to cross a line.”

Shaiya turned to face him fully now, voice gentling. “She’s my best friend. And you’re my brother. I’ve watched both of you dance around this for years, and I promise—there’s no line except the one you drew yourself.”

Sylus looked out the windshield. Rain slid in ribbons across the glass.

“She already looks back,” he said, barely audible.

“Not the way you want her to,” Shaiya replied softly. “Not yet.”

His grip tightened. “I don’t know what she feels.”

“Then ask,” she said simply. “Show her something real.”

He said nothing.

So she smiled, more gently this time. “You’re not going to break her, Sylus. And she’s not going to disappear just because you’re scared.”

His eyes drifted to the charm swinging faintly from the mirror—your charm. The one she’d given him quietly, without fanfare, like she was handing over something sacred.

He reached up and steadied it with two fingers.

Still holding.

Just like him.

Shaiya leaned back in her seat with a soft sigh, watching him like she had all the time in the world.

“I never told her how you’d ask about her after class,” she said, a smile in her voice. “Or how you’d sit by the door until she finished packing her things just to walk her halfway home.”

Sylus shot her a look.

She grinned. “Don’t worry, I kept your tragic romantic streak a secret. You’re welcome.”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re imagining things.”

“I’m your sister,” she replied, tone light but grounded. “I don’t need to imagine. I see you.”

There was a long pause.

“She makes you softer, you know.”

That caught him.

“You’ve always been difficult, guarded. But around her, it’s different. You laugh more. You try.”

He turned his face slightly toward her, eyes shadowed under the low light. “And if I mess it up?”

“Then at least you tried.” She gave him a small, earnest smile. “She deserves to know she’s wanted. You deserve to stop pretending she isn’t.”

Sylus looked away again, the city blurred in rain outside the windows. But his hand hadn’t left the charm.

“I just…” he began, but couldn’t finish.

Shaiya’s voice softened to a whisper.

“You wouldn’t be taking her from me, Sylus,” she said. “You’d be choosing her.”

And maybe—for the first time in all these years—he allowed himself to imagine what it would feel like…

To be chosen too.

“You’re leaving?”

The knife paused for a split second above the cutting board, but you didn’t look back.

You kept your tone light. “Yeah. You know me—I’ve always wanted to travel. See more of the world than this little corner.”

Shaiya didn’t answer right away. You heard her footsteps behind you, pacing the narrow kitchen floor like she didn’t know what to do with the space between you.

“I guess,” she said finally, but her voice was quiet. Brooding.

You tried to chuckle. “You can visit me when you’re free. I’ll send postcards. Bad ones.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then her arms wrapped tightly around your middle, hugging you from behind like she could hold you still.

“Can I bring Sylus?”

Your hands stilled. The knife froze mid-slice, blade reflecting pale lime and trembling fingertips.

You looked down. Smiled softly to the floor.

“That… probably wouldn’t be a good idea.”

She said nothing at first. Just held you a little tighter, like she knew what your voice was trying to hide.

Then, suddenly—blunt and impossible to ignore.

“But he really likes you.”

The words hit like thunder under skin.

Your hand jerked, slipping.

A sharp sting followed, the blade grazing your finger. A single drop of blood swelled and fell against the lime.

“Shit,” Shaiya hissed, rushing to grab a towel. “Wait—here, let me—”

You took it from her silently, pressing it to your finger, heart pounding in a rhythm you wished you could silence.

You didn’t look at her.

“He’s never said anything,” you murmured, voice quieter than the rain outside.

Shaiya exhaled, almost a laugh—fond, exasperated. “Of course he hasn’t. He’s Sylus. But he’s been in love with you for years, you know that, right?”

You shook your head, not trusting yourself to speak.

She leaned against the counter, watching you, her voice softening as she continued.

“You remember my birthday in high school? That girl who tried to flirt with him the entire time?”

You nodded, eyes still on the towel, watching the red fade into pink.

“I dragged her out by her extensions,” Shaiya said proudly. “Told her he wasn’t available. Not for anyone but you.”

Your head snapped up, startled. “What?”

She shrugged, sheepish now. “I’ve done it more than once, actually. Fended off half the women in town. I always thought you two would end up together. You belonged together. You still do.”

Your throat tightened.

“But…” you began, voice cracking like old glass, “you once said—you didn’t want anyone to steal him from you.”

Shaiya blinked. Then her face softened into something bittersweet.

“I was a stupid kid,” she said quietly. “I was scared of losing you both. But if I had to lose you, I’d want it to be to each other.”

You closed your eyes.

The towel in your hand was damp now. Your chest ached with everything you never let yourself feel.

He likes you.

How were you supposed to walk away now?

You stood in silence, your finger still wrapped in the towel, the lime forgotten on the board, its scent sharp in the still air.

Shaiya leaned back against the counter beside you, arms folded loosely over her chest, a small smile tugging at her lips.

Then, teasingly—like the sting of truth wrapped in silk:

“So…” she tilted her head, eyes glinting. “When did you start liking my brother?”

You blinked. Heat flooded your cheeks instantly.

“I—what?”

She grinned. “Come on. Don’t give me that. You think I never noticed? The way you go all quiet when he’s in the room? The way you look at him like he built the moon?”

You scoffed, half-horrified. “I do not—”

“You do,” she said, laughing now. “It’s kind of adorable, actually. Tragic. But adorable.”

You turned back toward the board, trying to hide behind the task, your voice barely a whisper.

“It was a long time ago.”

Shaiya’s smile faded into something softer. Waiting.

You swallowed, fingers trembling as they smoothed over the edge of the counter.

“I kept telling myself I couldn’t. That I shouldn’t.”

Shaiya was quiet for a moment, then stepped closer. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

You met her eyes. “Because you’re his sister.”

A beat.

Then she smiled again—wry and achingly fond. “God, you’re both so stupid.”

You let out a breathless laugh, eyes stinging.

“Seriously,” she continued, nudging your shoulder. “I’ve been watching you two orbit each other for years like it’s some forbidden fairy tale. Do you know how frustrating it is? I practically wrote wedding vows in my head.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile broke through the ache. “Stop.”

“I won’t,” she said proudly. “Because you love him.”

You didn’t deny it.

And for once, it didn’t feel like something to hide.

There was something comforting about saying it out loud. Here. Now.

In the kitchen that had always been a kind of sanctuary.

Where grief had been met with coffee and heartbreak stirred gently into soup.

Where silence never lasted long, and everything, somehow, returned to warmth.

Shaiya leaned beside you at the counter, arms crossed, smirk playing at the corners of her lips like it was muscle memory.

“You’re really going to leave without telling him?”

You didn’t lift your eyes. Just kept them fixed on the cutting board, where the lime’s bright green bled faintly into the grain.

“It’s not like it would change anything,” you said quietly.

She gave you a look—not cruel, not even stern. Just one part teasing, one part exasperated affection. “That’s probably the most melodramatic thing I’ve ever heard you say.”

You let out a soft, half-hearted laugh, one that barely stirred the air. “I’ve spent so long pretending I didn’t feel anything. Saying it now—it just feels like bad timing.”

Shaiya didn’t say anything for a while. The silence stretched comfortably, but not without weight.

You could feel her gaze on you, studying you the way only someone who’s known you half their life can.

Then, casually—too casually—she reached into her back pocket, thumb tapping quickly across her screen.

You blinked. “What are you doing?”

She shrugged, sliding the phone back out of sight. “Nothing. Just texting Eli. Or… you know, Sylus. Who’s to say, really?”

You turned toward her, brow arching. “Shaiya—”

She looked at you, all innocence and mischief. “Yes?”

You sighed, already regretting every life choice that brought you to this kitchen, this moment, this woman’s friendship.

She only smiled wider.

Like she knew exactly what was coming next.

You stared at the cutting board a moment longer, hands steady but your breath unraveling.

The lime had bled into the towel beside it—green, acidic, staining the fabric the way certain memories stain you. Subtle, but forever.

Your voice came quietly. Too calm for the storm that lived inside your chest.

“I’ve loved him for so long.”

Shaiya blinked, her teasing expression softening instantly.

You didn’t look at her. You couldn’t.

“It started before I realized it. Before I knew what it even meant to feel something that big. It was just the way he stood behind me when I was nervous. The way he remembered how I took my tea, even when I forgot. The way he looked at me like he already knew what I wasn’t saying.”

Your throat tightened.

“And I thought maybe—maybe it meant something. Maybe I meant something.”

You shook your head slowly.

“But then you said you didn’t want anyone to steal him. And I told myself I couldn’t be the one who did.”

You pressed your fingers to your eyes, as if it might hold the feeling back, keep it from spilling over.

“So I buried it. I buried every glance, every wish. I pretended it wasn’t real. And now I’m leaving. Because I thought if I put enough distance between us, I could finally be free of it.”

A pause. The air held still.

Then Shaiya raised an unimpressed brow. “I literally just told you he likes you.”

You blinked. “It doesn’t mean it’s that simple—”

“Actually,” she cut in, stepping closer, her arms crossed again but her voice gentler now, “sometimes it is. You’re acting like this is some doomed fairy tale. But he’s not a prince trapped in a tower, and you’re not cursed. You’re two emotionally repressed idiots who have loved each other in silence for too damn long.”

You opened your mouth, but she wasn’t done.

“And let me just say, if I went to all the trouble of pushing away every girl who blinked at my brother for you, and you still run away, I swear—”

You let out a breath of laughter, shaky but real.

“I was trying to do the right thing,” you whispered. “For you. For him. For me.”

Shaiya tilted her head, expression softening again. “Then do the right thing now. Let him decide if he wants to stop you.”

And just as those words settled into your bones—

The front door slammed open.

It echoed through the café like the sudden snap of a thread pulled too tight.

You startled, the sound cutting straight through your chest—and through the storm of emotions still settling after Shaiya’s words.

Your hands froze on the edge of the counter, breath caught mid-inhale.

Behind you, Shaiya looked up casually, as though she’d been expecting this precise moment down to the second.

And then, there he was.

Sylus.

Soaked to the bone, rain dripping from the sleeves of his coat, his breath uneven and labored as though he’d run the whole way here.

Which—knowing him—he might have.

Your eyes met his across the café, and for a moment, time did that impossible thing it always did around him. It stilled.

He didn’t speak. Just stared.

His chest rose and fell with effort, like every breath carried the weight of words he didn’t know how to form yet.

“Wow,” Shaiya muttered beside you, barely holding back a grin. “That was fast.”

You could barely process it. Could barely breathe.

You turned to her, your voice a whisper. “You really texted him?”

She shrugged, all faux innocence. “I said maybe.”

You opened your mouth, heart in your throat, but she was already backing toward the kitchen door, hand raised like a curtain call.

“I’ll be upstairs,” she said lightly. “Don’t break anything. Or do. Emotionally.”

And then you were alone.

With him.

The door swung shut behind her with a quiet click, and the silence that followed was deafening.

Even the rain seemed to still outside, giving the moment a reverent hush.

Sylus didn’t move right away. Neither did you.

Then.

“You weren’t going to tell me.”

His voice was hoarse. Barely above the hum of the overhead lights.

You swallowed hard. “I hadn’t… finalized anything yet.”

His brow creased, but he took a step forward. “You’re leaving.”

“I’m thinking about it.”

“That’s not better.”

You looked down, suddenly very aware of your hands. “I just… I needed space. A change. Something new.”

“From what?” he asked, a little too quickly. “From this place? From me?”

You winced. “From myself.”

He paused. And for the first time since he walked in, you saw it—the flicker of pain behind his eyes.

“I thought,” you whispered, “if I left, maybe I’d finally stop waiting. Stop hoping.”

He blinked slowly. “Hoping for what?”

Your laugh was small and bitter. “Do you really not know?”

He didn’t answer.

So you went on. Soft. Shaking.

Truth peeling itself from the edges of every word.

“I’ve loved you for so long it feels like part of me. And I thought—if I stayed here, I’d always be waiting. Always watching you walk into the room and pretending it didn’t feel like gravity. And that’s not fair. To me. Or to you.”

He was still. Completely still.

You pushed the words out, afraid they might choke you if you didn’t.

“I’ve loved you for years. Quietly. Stupidly. I thought it would pass—but it didn’t. I buried it for Shaiya’s sake. For yours. I thought I didn’t have the right.”

Sylus stepped closer. The air shifted with him, thick with rain and unsaid things.

“I wanted you to cross the line,” he said. “To look at me like I wasn’t just your best friend’s brother. And you did. You do. But you always looked away after.”

Tears welled in your eyes, hot and unrelenting.

“You never said anything,” you whispered.

“I didn’t know how,” he admitted. “I thought I had time.”

A silence fell, full of things neither of you had the language for.

Your heart stuttered.

“Don’t go,” he said, stepping close enough that his voice dropped to a whisper. “Not yet. Not when we haven’t even started.”

You stared at him, trembling.

“I don’t know what happens next,” you said. “I don’t know if this will work.”

His eyes searched yours, steady and soft.

“Then let’s figure it out. Together.”

You didn’t move. Neither did he.

But the distance had never felt smaller.

And for the first time in years, you weren’t waiting anymore.

But everything between you pulsed like a thread pulled taut—one heartbeat, one breath, one word away from breaking open.

Sylus raised a hand, slow and unsure, as if even now he feared he’d be pushing too far. His fingers hovered at your cheek for a moment—then touched.

Lightly. Like rain. Like memory.

Your breath caught.

His touch was careful, reverent.

Like he wasn’t sure you were real.

Like he didn’t believe this was happening.

“I should’ve said something sooner,” he murmured. “I should’ve fought harder.”

You leaned into his palm, eyes fluttering shut. “You’re here now.”

That was all that mattered.

He didn’t ask.

He didn’t need to.

Because when he leaned in—slow, like the world might shatter around him—you met him halfway.

The kiss was soft. Tentative at first. Like two people learning each other in a new language, after years of speaking only in silence.

His hand slid to the back of your neck, fingers threading through your hair, and your own clutched the fabric of his coat, holding him close, holding him steady.

It was warm. And aching.

And full of every breath you’d held back since the day your heart first whispered his name.

When you broke apart, it wasn’t with urgency. There was no panic now.

Just his forehead pressed to yours, both of you breathing the same rain-damp air, the same stunned stillness.

“I haven’t bought the ticket,” you whispered again.

“Good,” he murmured, thumb brushing gently across your cheek. “Stay.”

You closed your eyes. And for the first time, you didn’t feel like running.

You didn’t feel like waiting.

You just stood there, in the middle of a small kitchen that had seen your tears and your laughter, wrapped in the arms of the boy you had loved in silence for too long.

And this time—he held you back.

masterlist

[lets-try-some-writing]

https://www.tumblr.com/lets-try-some-writing/768522286265417728/have-you-seen-the-humans-are-space-cats-tag-i

Just saw this post; how many times do you think a human snuck aboard a cybertronian ship simply because they diddnt have anything to lose on earth or just wanted to start a new life.

How would the cybertronians react to their stowaway?

You know what? I love this prompt so take a lil fic thing to go with it. Partially inspired by @nova--spark's Earth101 writing.

Human Stowaway

Report from: OSCD (Organic Study and Comprehension Division) - Expeditionary crew of The Illuminator.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━

During out last scientific expedition to the planet Earth, we followed proper procedure and the tests we ran went as they were meant to. However, it was only once we were already en-route to Cybertron that we discovered a little... souvenir from our planetary assessment.

An organic, a human specimen that calls itself Mah-Ark Hah-Rt, snuck aboard our vessel. We were aware of the phenomenon of humans abandoning their world in favor of sneaking onto Cybertronian vessels. But we did not anticipate a human deciding to take up residence on our ship. We are just a science vessel after all, and more often than not, reports of human stowaways come from private ships and small visiting groups of younglings attending tours of Earth for educational purposes. Those humans are usually returned or taken in by the vessels they board. But in both cases, there are certain contingencies already in place for such an event.

We do not have any such contingencies. And so as soon as we discovered Mah-Ark, we opted to take care of it until we arrived on Cybertron and could send it to Captain Bumblebee, the designated liaison to Earth. With all that said, our interactions with Mah-Ark have been interesting to say the least.

Scans and close assessments using our knowledge of humanity have indicated Mah-Ark is a human male. It, (or as Mah-Ark prefers to be addressed) he appears to not be much older than two stellar cycles of age, nineteen by Earth solar standards. Despite our studies of human languages, communication has been difficult. Mah-Ark speaks only a little of Earth's major language of trade and instead primarily speaks the Earth dialect of 'Russian'. We have no idea what he is saying most of the time, but we've learned to largely read him.

So far, we've managed to figure out why he's here based on a few scattered 'memes', various pop culture references, and through having him draw things. He used quite a few English curses along with the name of several planetary leaders on his homeworld, so we assume he has been dissatisfied and tried to escape elsewhere. He also drew a rather devastating scene of several human shaped figures being hit by a vehicle, so we've come to believe he may be without a clan to lean on. With that in mind, his abandonment of his planet makes more sense.

After we pulled Mah-Ark out of the vent he was hiding in, we discovered quite quickly that humans have needs that must be met. After his internals made very concerning sounds and he proceeded to pull out a can of mushed... stuff, we concluded that we needed to get supplies. Mah-Ark needed to fuel first and foremost, and we lacked the necessary resources. Mah-Ark brought enough supplies to fuel himself for roughly an Earth week, but we had to take a detour to try and find alternative fuel for his organic frame. We would have returned to Earth, but by that point the effort would have been wasted due to travel constraints. In the end, we took a path past a techno-organic world where we used some excess funding to purchase an array of fuels.

The techno-organics inhabiting the world were kind enough to offer suggestions, but presenting the fuel to Mah-Ark was informative and annoying in equal measure. Mah-Ark was unable to use his mouth bones to pierce the thick shell of many of the nuts we purchased, and even when broken, he was still incapable of digesting many. The few that we concluded were soft enough to be consumed did not often appeal to him. He purged them from his systems soon after or otherwise was unable to keep them in his frame. We attempted to offer fruits from the techno-organics as well as a few of their other organic crops, but most were rejected by our stowaway. We checked everything and confirmed it to be close enough to Earth plant life to be consumed safely, but Mah-Ark had opinions and flat out refused a great deal of it.

Analysis of human customs, specifically 'Russia' and its surrounding territory revealed a more meat and carbohydrate based diet. Once we discovered this, we made another detour to a similar planet and spoke to the organics there for guidance. With their aid, and after confirming Mah-Ark would be safe to wander, we had our human properly outfitted for long term space travel and gathered supplies suitable for him. He greatly enjoys meats rich in fats along with various baked goods. The organics we took him to found him quite endearing and supplied us with enough to make it to Cybertron and longer, just in case. We considered purchasing H2O, but thankfully, as a science vessel, we have machinery to gather 'water' and produce it for Mah-Ark.

With his fueling and hydration concerns addressed, housing Mah-Ark was a whole other affair. Humans are complicated creatures. The mutterings from other crews with humans make it seem as though their humans are totally comfortable anywhere. While this is partially true, Mah-Ark did not enjoy many of the places we put him. The vents were too dark for his liking and we often found him crying when left alone there for long. The loss of water from his system was concerning, so we moved him to other various alcoves. He was not found of high places for fear of falling while in recharge (we were unaware humans moved so much while recharging). He disliked the space beneath the command console where there was a heater. He muttered something about 'boiling' and we quickly got the picture after assessing his liquid loss.

Even when we found a place in our Captain's quarters for Mah-Ark to reside, the human was not happy being so far from the crew. Humans are also social creatures, and thus we devised a system to keep Mah-Ark from losing too many fluids to stress. Every time Mah-Ark had to recharge, he warned us with a 'yawn' and one of the crew would hold him in their arms. Or if the crew was also set to recharge, one of us (usually decided by a randomizer), would take him to berth with them. Each of us created a small makeshift location near our berths for Mah-Ark. He liked being able to see us.

We also found that soft things were greatly appreciated by our resident human. Mah-Ark hoards things that are soft, and so we ended up shredding one of our emergency thermoplastic sheets for him to use as bedding. He seemed to appreciate it, especially once one of the crew carefully fluffed up the torn substance into a nesting material. Mah-Ark was surprisingly resourceful and wove the provided material into a surprisingly solid berth in each of the crew's quarters. Since his various berths have been created, Mah-Ark has been noted being exceptionally cheerful, at least based on body language and the abundance of 'laughter'. It was a bit difficult to adjust to Mah-Ark's frequent need to recharge, but we have learned to adjust.

By the time we had all of this figured out, Mah-Ark had been with us for almost two Earth weeks. Around the third Earth week, Mah-Ark expressed a severe amount of restlessness. Observation led us to believe he lacked enrichment. And it was through our attempts to handle his needs that we discovered just why other crews enjoy having humans around.

Mah-Ark brought various devices that were rendered useless in deep space, and so we devised a few new things for him to watch media on. Most of it was in Cybertronian, but Mah-Ark began to learn through watching out media. Before we knew it, Mah-Ark was making noises akin to glyphs. It was incredibly slurred and almost indecipherable due to his organic biology, but he learned some of the easiest terms and we soon found ourselves watching him speak like a sparkling. He learned to point out energon, various parts of the frame, and several important parts around the ship. Once we confirmed he was able to comprehend pieces of our language, we began to guide him.

Humans are quick learners.

After almost two Earth months with us, Mah-Ark spoke enough broken base Cybertronian to be understood. We learned that he enjoyed engineering, specifically working with heavy machinery. Our resident medic took the chance to see if it was possible to train a human in a useful Cybertronian skill, and to our surprise, Mah-Ark learned and became a very useful tool to scan to for micro fissures and other small issues in our frames. Mah-Ark, so long as he was properly guarded in armor and body suites, was quickly able to figure out where small errors were located and even begin helping to weld and stitch things into place.

He has made a useful medical aid indeed. Additionally, he learned to help maintain our ship and, after a few close calls with pipes, became proficient in assessing the internal wiring of the command console. His small size has made him beyond useful in many regards.

Aside from his useful application, Mah-Ark has... endeared himself to us. He has interesting insights and takes such joy in things we know to be commonplace. His short life means he had seen next to nothing of what we have. It brightens our cycles to show him all that we have discovered and learned and watch him awe over it. In turn, he tells us of his life on his homeworld, at least as much as he can. His existence is simple, but his descriptions and illustrations of his life have made him more than interesting. He's a companion. He is, despite being so much smaller and far more fragile than us, a thoughtful member of our crew.

Every day he learns more and speaks more of our language, albeit a version we have dumbed down for his benefit. He has even begun trying to create various tools to travel around the ship faster, in order to match the speed of the rest of us of course. He loves to watch and ask question. He enjoys being held in our servos. He is... more than a pet. He is a friend.

In light of all of this, the crew of the Illuminator would like to make a formal request to keep Mah-Ark Hah-Rt as part of our team. We would also like to request permission to correspond with other vessels with human crew members to learn of their ways and possibly get Mah-Ark a few of his own kind to associate with. We lack information on medical care for humans along with various other niche subject matters regarding his care. It would be amazing to have access to further resources, or even a call with Captain Bumblebee or others who are familiar with Earth.

We care for our human. No matter how small he is or how short his time with us will be. No matter how complicated it is to learn of his needs. We want to keep him. The crew of the Illuminator make this request fully acknowledging the difficulties ahead, but this stowaway is ours, and we intend to keep him if possible.

[bakuhatsufallinlove]

I’ve seen people saying 431 wasn’t written by Horikoshi but by his assistants; is there any truth to that? (Sorry if this isn’t the type of question you like to answer, you’re honestly the most reputable source I know for MHA)

The only reason people are saying this is because they hate the content and want an excuse to dismiss it.

We have no reason to believe this chapter was written or drawn by anyone other than Horikoshi, who has a team of assistants as all manga artists do.

The only middle-men here would be WSJ editors and executives, who have regular input on the story's direction and execution. One could theorize about how much pressure and of what kind there might have been on Horikoshi, as the creator of a hugely popular and lucrative shounen series, to hint towards the possibility of a heterosexual relationship at the end, especially considering WSJ's relationship to the "settle down and have kids" politics of modern Japan. But that's all it would be: theorizing.

Regarding editorial overreach, Horikoshi has said that he will tell the story he wants to tell. I'm not positive, but I think he went through several editors trying to find a good fit, someone who would respect his vision instead of dominate it. It would be insulting to insist he is some helpless victim with no agency whatsoever. Or, for that matter, that he would ever allow someone else to draw his manga for him, slap his name on the title page, and call it a day.

I have no special information in this regard, but my guess is that Horikoshi arranged to end the serialization of the series where he wanted to, then had meetings with his publishing team to discuss what kind of material he could create to fill the final tankōban, which needed extra material to meet publishing standards. 431 is the result of that.

At 38 pages, it could have been two serialized chapters. But it wasn't.

The thought I keep coming back to is that 431's pages are after Horikoshi's afterward in the volume. I've heard that people are trying to say that 430 and 431 are BOTH "up for interpretation" or "just future possibilities," but consider this: only one of those was included in regular serialization and can be read back-to-back with all the other chapters in the usual way.

That chapter directly parallels the first chapter in a number of extremely meaningful ways, both visually and thematically. That's 430.

The other chapter, for whatever reason, comes after Horikoshi's comments on the story's conclusion. It is literally separated from the rest. Maybe this isn't that significant, but I don't know any other final ending chapter like that. Demon Slayer's volume-exclusive epilogue comes immediately after the serialized chapters, with the only break being a two-page extra explaining character genealogy. Gotouge's comments come after the brand new epilogue.

All of that, plus the content itself, contributes to me personally feeling like 431 is just extra. It's undeniably Horikoshi's work, but it doesn't draw any strong parallels to the established themes of MHA. It isn't necessary to the conclusion of the story we've followed.

But for what it's worth, I haven't seen anyone in the jpn fandom bring up whether 431 is canon or not, because they don't care. Japanese fandom is very flexible and self-indulgent. Fanworks and headcanons regularly contradict canon and no one cares even a little. It doesn't matter if the chapter is "canon" or not, they'll do what they like either way.

I have seen a huge range of responses from jpn fans. Some see it as confirmation of a het ship, others see it as open-ended. Some find the outcome sad, some felt it was hopeful. Many people had mixed reactions of happiness and sorrow.

I saw at least one person interpret the "put down the camera" note as providing the fans the opportunity to "freely imagine what happens in the future." Another person questioned how they were supposed to interpret that phrase in conjunction with Shouto's monologue about "inevitability."

I'm gonna go Plus Ultra here and reach far beyond the framework of your question, so let me just say this: No one has to care about the creator's intentions. No one needs permission to ignore canon.

For one thing, we are only ever guessing what the creator's intentions are. We can only surmise and make arguments based on our interpretations of their work.

To act as though there should be one sole authority that dictates what the audience is allowed to think about art is ridiculous, and that includes the creator.

Because art is completed by the audience. Art is communication. In language, the speaker knows only what they intended, while the listener knows only what they interpreted. We may discuss our perspectives in different ways to try to understand each other better, but in storytelling, the audience doesn't interact that way with the creator. They interact with the art itself.

Art means something new the moment it touches another human heart.

Who I am, what I value, my experiences in life, all of these influence how I see Horikoshi's story. And that's a good thing. To remove myself from that—to insist that who I am as a person has nothing to do with what art means to me—is to diminish the meaning of art itself.

I don't need Horikoshi to agree with me. I don't need him to see things the same way I do or tell me I'm right. He wrote a story about the complex, profound love between two boys. Whether he thinks that love means they'd wanna kiss each other is completely fucking irrelevant to me.

The love is on the page, where I found it.

Other people may think it means something different or fail to see it entirely, and that's fine. That's their relationship to the story. That has nothing to do with me.

I'm glad Horikoshi got to write the story he wanted. I wished I liked his extra chapter more, but them's the breaks.

[wannabeschyulersister]

part one

Despite attending dozens of premieres, the flashing lights momentarily stunned you. A firm squeeze of your hand brought you back to reality. “Amor, are you ready?”

You glanced over at the man sitting beside you. His face lit up with joy, clearly relishing the moment they were sharing together. It was one that you both would remember forever.

The moment you both stepped out as a couple for the first time.

“I’m ready.”

Pedro, being the gentleman he is, stepped out of the car first and made his way to your door. With a warm smile, he opened it for you, extending his hand to you to help you out.

As soon as you got out of the car, you heard the crowds of fans cheering your name. You waved in their direction and blew them a kiss.

Pedro intertwined his fingers with yours and guided you. Both of your publicists were present at the commencement of the red carpet. They provided you with a brief overview of the journalists you needed to interview.

They led you both to the designated area at the carpet’s beginning where photographers had already begun lining up.

Before stepping out, Pedro gave your hand a quick squeeze.

Once in the spotlight, you were surrounded by the shouts of your name and the rapid rise of flashing lights.

Pedro released your hand and wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you closer.

“You look so beautiful,” he whispered in your ear, making you smile.

“You’re a little biased, Mr. Pascal,” you retorted.

After a few moments, your publicist had to separate you to allow both of you to do interviews. Pedro gave you a chaste kiss on the forehead before he went to one media outlet and you the other.

Once the interviewer had asked the standard questions about the movie and your outfit, she practically buzzed with excitement to inquire about Pedro.

“I must ask, you attended this premiere with Pedro Pascal and even walked the carpet together briefly. Is there a romantic connection between you two?”

You couldn’t help but grin, “Yes, we’ve been dating for quite some time now. I’m very happy.”

She looked shocked, exclaiming, “Oh my! What an exclusive! We need all the details.”

“I’m not sure how much time I have left with you, but we’ve been together for almost two years and were introduced by mutual friends.”

You felt your publicist gently nudge your arm, indicating that it was time to move on. You quickly bid farewell before proceeding to the next interview.

After a few interviews, Pedro caught up with you. “How are you doing?”

“I’m doing better now that you’re here.”

“What a line,” he teased, gathering your hands with his.

“I’m so glad we did this,” you thought back to the other premieres in the past two years that you had wished Pedro could be your date for. You were overjoyed that both of you could publicly support each other.

“Me too, Amor,” he winked. “It seems like the rest of the world is too.”

“What do you mean?”

“Apparently, we’re already trending online, and people have been shipping us for years.”

“Wow, trending already? That’s quicker than I thought.”

“I thought it would at least take a few hours,” Pedro chuckled.

It was amusing how, amidst the chaos of the premiere, with the constant shouts of your names and the flashing lights, you and Pedro managed to create your own little bubble of peace.

He gently kissed your forehead, “Shall we continue with the carpet and head inside? My family is waiting for us.”

“Lead the way, my love.”

[tprings-hair]

what happened on tarsus iv?

this is my attempt at creating a definitive list of information on what kirk experienced on tarsus iv for fic writers and other fans who want to know wtf is up with kirk's backstory.

(I have a longer, more general post on tos kirk's backstory here.)

"Kodos the Executioner, summary. Governor of Tarsus Four twenty Earth years ago. Invoked martial law. Slaughtered fifty percent of population Earth colony, that planet. Burned body found when Earth forces arrived. No positive identification. Case closed."

let's start with this quote from spock, detailing the information he found on their ship's computer.

first of all: at its core, this episode is tos's take on the nazis who escaped capture. adolf eichmann was only found in 1960, and would certainly have been in the public memory as a high profile nazi who managed to make a new life under an assumed name. he was not the only one to have escaped capture, and I don't think I need to explain which conspiracy theory the circumstances of kodos's faked death call to mind.

this episode was an exploration of what form cruelty and authoritarianism might take in star trek's universe, with a huge amount of influence from shakespeare's work. the two together make up this central dilemma: is it kodos? might kirk be condemning an innocent man? if it is kodos, does kirk have the right to act as judge, jury, and executioner? is it possible for someone who carried out terrible acts to live a new life somewhere else, and not have the violence follow?

SPOCK: According to our library banks, it started on the Earth colony of Tarsus IV, when the food supply was attacked by an exotic fungus and largely destroyed. There were over eight thousand colonists and virtually no food. And that was when Governor Kodos seized full power and declared emergency martial law.

MCCOY: I've heard of it.

SPOCK: You may not have heard it all. Kodos began to separate the colonists. Some would live, be rationed whatever food was left. The remainder would be immediately put to death. Apparently he had his own theories of eugenics.

MCCOY: Unfortunately, he wasn't the first.

SPOCK: Perhaps not. But he was certainly among the most ruthless, to decide arbitrarily who would survive and who would not, using his own personal standards, and then to implement his decision without mercy. Children watching their parents die. Whole families destroyed. Over four thousand people. They died quickly, without pain, but they died. Relief arrived, but too late to prevent the executions. And Kodos? There never was a positive identification of his body.

the thing is, this introduces a number of inconsistencies. it could easily be chalked up to confusion between multiple drafts of the script, but if you want to look deeper and see where the information comes from, you'll notice the two survivors have very different stories than the official starfleet record.

specifically, spock says that they died quickly and painlessly, and though he is sure that karidian is kodos, he does not seem to treat him as a legitimate threat to anyone's safety. we don't know if kodos ever directly killed anyone, or if he only gave the orders. but kirk and leighton seem to agree on the violence: leighton refers to his own injury as "the bloody thing (kodos) did", and kirk recalls kodos "blasting" others out of existence. it's possible kirk was saying it to confuse kodos, so kodos might say "that's not how it happened" and give himself away. it's also possible that leighton sustained his injury at a different time than the massacre. it seems likeliest to me in any case that the information on the ship's computer is not the entire truth.

which also means you can headcanon whatever you want and nobody can tell you definitively that you're wrong. be free with your tarsus iv headcanons.

exploring the tarsus iv lore (or lack of it) has led me to this sort of consensus in the fandom that kirk was looking after a group of children. I think it's a very cool way of exploring how central it is to his character that he has to be in control, protecting people, and fighting back, and I've read and enjoyed some absolutely fantastic fics with that premise. even william shatner seems to agree. in his novel collision course (which gives kirk and spock a sort of alternate first meeting as teenagers and gives some great insights into how shatner viewed kirk's backstory), kirk ().

the ship's computer specifies the number of survivors later in the episode as nine, and lists them as

Kirk, J., Leighton, T., Moulton, E., Riley, K., Eames, D.

before kirk cuts it off. once leighton dies, the last two surviving are kirk and riley.

the novelization by james blish names a couple more characters, and in order of age: Leighton, T., Molson, E., Kirk, J., Wiegand, R., Eames, S., and Daiken, R., which was what they called the role of kevin riley initially. he is specified as being five years old at the time, and kirk is not a child or teen but a midshipman.

and collision course names still more characters. edith zaglada, an eight year old girl who kirk saw killed. donny, tay, and billy are named as other survivors. this novel doesn't get into kodos's motivations or kirk's circumstances, but it gives us two new characters, griffyn and matthew, who are teenagers employed by kodos as bounty hunters for escapees of the initial massacre. starfleet arrives just as edith is shot and griffyn is trying to convince matthew to shoot kirk. we don't really know if kirk knew any of the other survivors, but he mentions edith's name specifically a few times as a death that affected him a lot. it's heartbreaking to watch city on the edge of forever with that in mind. I also can't find a source for anyone calling him JT, but collision course does call him jimmy during the flashback chapters.

crucially, the novel isn't technically canon. so you can have your gang of children led by JT, or you can have jimmy stick with a couple of people, or you could do something totally your own. none of these are wrong! do whatever your heart desires.

if you want some practical details, there's a great post here by @spirk-trek and pt 1, pt 2, and pt 3 of a great post by @pywren. I may make my own tarsus iv headcanon post if anyone is interested, and if I do I'll link it here.

[statementends]

Okay Jonelias enjoyers we need to talk about the fun shiptag! We should all try to be on the same page. I've been seeing various tags in use so let's try to standardize it!

If you like you can send submission suggestions and then we're going to do a week long vote.

Why?: Jonelias is a perfectly good tag, however it's kind of inaccurate (and a bit boring). I would still encourage it's use though as it's the often used tag.

Edit: this isn't proposing to get rid of the jonelias tag. Just that if we want a fun ship name let's all use the same one and let's decide together!

@sweetmapple has a post where some brainstorming for names was happening here.

I know stuff like eyetrauma has been catching on and I will include it in the poll, but I do ask people to consider the crossover tags we will be getting. I did a cursory glance and there is unrelated fanart that includes eyetrauma even when the words are pushed together.

We could do what we usually do with the archivist and add a J making it jeyetrauma, but I digress.

The poll will go up Friday June 13th 2025 (since that's easy to remember) it'll be tagged the the various tags I've seen being used.

[ms-demeanor]

It seemed like your job was getting better there for a minute under new management. Is it new management that's fucking up now, not "fixable", or is it holdovers from the old guy?

So my company, formerly owned by Gary, was "Strangled Bats LLC". The company that bought us is "BunnyCorp Inc." Late last year, BunnyCorp Inc hired "Bruno" as our new CEO. The middle management are Bunnies from BunnyCorp.

Gary was a shithead who abused his employees but he was a stickler for documentation, standards, and naming conventions. Even though we lost a lot of documentation when BunnyCorp let Strangled Bats' CRM subscription lapse, I was able to save a bunch of PDFs and we actually still have printed copies of a BUNCH of our documents. Strangled Bats LLC was a terrible place to work and was very old-fashioned on some things, but we save our papers.

BunnyCorp Inc has a lot of very friendly bunnies in management who are cuddly and cute and easy to get along with and wouldn't know a configuration manager if it bit them in the ass. BunnyCorp was interested in acquiring and absorbing many companies to become one big company and cared more about purchasing companies (and therefore their client bases) than it cared about integrating those companies into itself OR than it cared about making notes on its customers.

Bruno has a long history of working in MegaBigCo and making things very efficient. When Bruno was hired as CEO, BunnyCorp officers did a great job of putting a good face forward and making it look like they had their shit together. By the time Bruno started, I had been working at BunnyCorp for three months and had mostly been focused on trying to get Strangled Bats' systems to mesh with BunnyCorp.

In January, Bruno had been with the company long enough that he started making changes to make things more efficient, because he'd been there long enough to see that there were some problems. At that point, I had started to notice that it seemed like we were duplicating an awful lot of work that was no longer related to issues with un-meshed systems, because I had meshed a lot of our systems. I got promoted and started training someone to take over the simpler parts of my job and was given the responsibility of looking into a lot of our contracts and agreements.

In March, the shit hit the fan and Bruno and I simultaneously realized that BunnyCorp Inc had been papering over a vast chasm of problems, most of which had to do with:

people with institutional knowledge leaving because they were underpaid

previous owners being shit at documentation

nobody except LITERALLY FUCKING ME knowing what modern server hardware standards and pricing should be

solutions for clients that were built with an eye toward reducing cost in the moment rather than planning for growth or longevity

Bruno has good thoughts about improving stuff, thoughts that I support and think are a great idea and think we should try to implement, but he's also a MegaBigCo kind of guy and likes to let employees grind to prove that they're dedicated and worthy of a promotion/raise - this is a shitty attitude that I think is counterproductive and I think is on the verge of leading our entire senior staff into burnout, but he's not at all wrong about the changes that need to be made. Bruno found out that a bunch of our clients don't have spare server drives onsite and shit a brick because of how badly he wants us to get spare server drive to the client sites; he is willing to eat the cost if it means we can get spares to the clients. That's great, it's not wrong, and there aren't enough hours in the day for me to get that done and also do procurement.

Bruno is only just now seeing the tip of the iceberg in terms of how utterly fucked our documentation is; if Bruno is the captain of the ship telling us where to steer, I'm the lookout on deck who sees the icebergs before anybody else.

I have been shouting to the Bunny management about icebergs since December and the ship hasn't changed course; Bruno has directed us to put more coal in the boilers and speed up and to patch up some holes and scrape some barnacles off the hull, but I can't shout loud enough to get the Bunnies to pass on the message about the iceberg, so all I can do is make notes about where the iceberg is an when we hit it provide the notes that I took that the Bunnies ignored so that maybe we can start patching up the breaks before water floods in and kills us all.

Things were great for a while because I was no longer working with an actively abusive shithead. Working with Gary was like sighting icebergs on the deck of a ship that leaked a bit and avoided icebergs deftly, but I was left to freeze on the deck all the time because freezing on the deck was all I was good for. Getting acquired by BunnyCorp was like someone handing me a warm coat and telling me to go inside and have a cup of tea and sit by the fire. But then I realized that the niceness and the okayness with taking time off and the slight raise were very comforting but someone still had to go out on deck and watch for icebergs but now nobody is passing on the message that we need to steer away from the fucking icebergs because if you say there's an iceberg that might make someone feel bad and making people feel bad is counter to the BunnyCorp company culture.

I have a constant drumbeat in my head that says "I can fix this, I can fix this, I can fix this." If I work late and go get the info for all the firewalls that I can access, and share info with the team about the ones I can't access, I can update the documentation and fix this. If I get notes on all the servers, and get spares for every machine, and get the techs scheduled to go out and install, I can fix this. If I can go in to the configurations for all five thousand computers and manually check and archive all the old devices, and manually update a field for every one of the two thousand windows 10 machines, maybe our team of sixteen can replace twelve hundred and upgrade eight hundred computers at our two hundred client sites in the next five months. If only I can go through all of those two thousand configurations and update that field before I get dragged away to another phone call from a client or another meeting about how the next acquisition is going to go, so I better do it now, at eight pm at ten pm at midnight at two am when there's nobody to call and no meetings scheduled. If I could just *lock in* I can save us, I can make sure the clients are getting a good turnaround time on their requests and I can make sure the licenses are all getting renewed because I updated all the configurations and I will update all the configurations going forward and I will document this company at knifepoint and I will hold it together with duct tape and spite and I will make it work i will make it work nobody else is doing anything I have to make it work because that's an iceberg, I know some of them see the iceberg, and they're Bunnies and I'm a Bat, some of them have seen this iceberg long before I could see it but they're not turning but if I yell about it and make notes about it and lock in and document it and skip lunch and skip lunch and skip lunch and skip lunch and skip lunch and take half a break so that I can get another device off the list maybe THEN they'll act like there's an iceberg ahead and they'll turn and I won't have to fly off the deck and go find another ship and I can stay on the boat with my friends and the nice bunnies and it will be okay, it will feel like it did after Gary was gone and I could BREATHE and people said that I was smart and good at my job and I deserved more money and I had been treated badly and there were no icebergs because it was so bright and sunny and nice that the whole sea looked like dazzling snow and seemed soft and safe and like I wouldn't have to keep freezing on the deck to stay alive.

So.

You know.

There have been ups and downs. I'm having some trouble staying motivated and even with some decent management it's difficult to orient the team toward the metrics we need to meet in q3 to stay solvent and keep our forward momentum up.

I'm considering sniping our customers and starting my own business, nobody makes the office admin sign a non-compete.

[youhavelessproof]

reminder that even if you don't ship batcest you should be upset with DC sanitizing their found families. 🩵

if you like fanfic where the Batfamily is a perfect loving family with no issues, more power to you, but you should still be upset about the current state in canon. because liking something in fanfic is not the same as liking something in canon.

story potential is actively being taken away from us because no one is allowed to have complex feelings about each other. Dick and Bruce aren't allowed their impossible to name relationship, Dick and Jason aren't allowed their love/hate relationship, Dick and Cass aren't allowed to have mutual but different negative feelings about each other, Dick and Babs' relationship has to be squeaky clean, etc. etc.

what's the point of having a group of characters to focus on if they're never allowed to have lasting conflict?

found family should never be forced to follow the heteronormative nuclear family propaganda we've all been fed and yet here we are. Bruce doesn't need to be Dick's dad for it to be understood that Bruce helped form Dick into who he is today. Dick and Jason don't need to be strictly brothers for them to be family. there is more to family than strict labels. especially in the context of queer history.

there is nothing wrong with liking fanon, but letting it be applied to canon without a second thought isn't good for anyone. I promise you that even if you're enjoying this now, it will be detrimental for canon stories.

and before you think to yourself that you don't care about canon anyway, yes you do. these characters wouldn't exist in fanon if not for the fact that canon existed. you might not have read a single comic in your life and never plan to, but you should still care because comics are the only reason you have these characters to begin with.

I have so many more thoughts but I'll end with this. Dick especially will never fit into a picture perfect family according to nuclear family standards because, in his own words, "Nightwing belongs to two families." (he's talking about the Titans here fyi. because the Titans are also family. family that is constantly dating each other.)

[riversongweek]

River Song Appreciation Week

📅 May 25-31, 2025 (and every year thereafter!)

River Song Appreciation Week is back—an annual celebration of our favorite time-travelling archaeologist, space-queen, and Luna U's infamous darling professor. After several past editions (most recently in 2023), this fan-favorite returns on May 25-31 and will now be an annual celebration hosted by @expectiations. We’re bringing RSAW back to life with even more ways to celebrate!

✨ How to Join In

Like and/or Reblog this post

Create & Post anything inspired by River based on a prompt—gifs, graphics, caps, fanfic, vids, metas, fanmixes… you name it!

Caption your content with the following: @riversongweek | river song appreciation week: day # - prompt title (e.g. day 1 - favorite scene/episode)

Use one (or all!) hashtags within your first five tags:

#riversongweek

#riversongappreciationweek

#RSAW25

Reblogs & Shares: Reblog, retweet, or repost your favorites—comments and ❤s count just as much if you can’t create something new.

Unblock & Engage: Make sure you haven’t blocked our host's tumblr, so we can see and reblog your creations!

📜 Week-Long Schedule

Day 1 | May 25: Favorite Scene(s)/Episode(s)

Day 2 | May 26: Favorite Quote

Day 3 | May 27: Favorite Regeneration

Day 4 | May 28: Favorite Trait

Day 5 | May 29: Favorite Theme

Day 6 | May 30: Favorite Dynamic

Day 7 | May 31: Free Day

🎉 Community Vote

We’ll be running various River-centric polls across platforms (Twitter polls, IG Stories, Discord channel polls, etc.)—keep an eye out for opportunities to vote!

💡 Creative “Igniters”

Feeling stuck? Pick one quote that captures River’s essence and riff on it however you like:

• “For time may be a river, but the mind is a tide. They say the river can’t be turned, yet the tide can shift and slide.” ― Nishant Prakash, Falling In & Out • “Memory is a way of holding on to the things you love, the things you are, the things you never want to lose.” ― The Wonder Years • “Life is either a daring adventure or nothing at all.” ― Helen Keller • “Forever is composed of nows.” ― Emily Dickinson • “The thing with heat is, no matter how cold you are, no matter how much you need warmth, it always, eventually, becomes too much.” ― Victoria Aveyard, Glass Sword • “It’s very painful to start loving someone when holding on to the idea of hating them keeps you safe.” ― Fern Brady, Strong Female Character • “Time isn’t the only thing that can surprise you.”

Use these as optional prompts—no pressure, just sparks for your imagination.

🎨 Optional Fan Challenge

Quote-Inspired Fan-mix: Pick a quote and build a playlist around it.

No separate tags needed—just include our standard hashtags!

📜 Quick Rules & Reminders

Keep River front and center. Other characters are welcome, but she’s the star.

Be kind and respectful. No discrimination, shaming, or ship-bashing.

No AI-generated content.

Tag mature content (NSFW, triggers) clearly.

💬 Where to Hang Out

Discord: Join our server and find polls in the #river-song-appreciation-week channel!

Tumblr Ask Box: Questions? Inspiration? Drop us a line anytime.

Let’s light up the days leading up to May 31 with gifs, fanfic, art, and musings worthy of River Song herself. Time to show our space-queen how much she means to us once more—geronimo! 🚂✨

🤍 divider used by @cafekitsune

[stormy-river]

Transcripts from the Humanity Hotline 7

As I finished this, I discovered it's been exactly one year since I posted the last Transcript. A lot has happened in that year; I've graduated college :) . I want to thank everyone for the support I've received, and I hope to get back into some of my creative projects and give you guys an opportunity to laugh, and maybe learn something. This one is inspired by a request from @a-romantic-twst from forever ago; I hope it was worth the wait (sorry about that). (It's about periods if anyone's uncomfortable with that and wants to skip this one.)

------

Operator: "Hi, my name is Mindy. How may I help you today?"

Caller: "Hello, Mindy, I am very concerned about one of the humans on my ship."

O: "What seems to be the problem?"

C: "Well, I'm the chief medical officer and this particular human has been on the ship for just over two Earth months now. On two separate occasions during that time, she has requested strong painkillers citing 'Shark Week' as the reason. I looked into what 'Shark Week' is, and found an Earth television special about certain aquatic predators, and I'm unsure how that could cause a human physical pain lightyears from Earth?"

O: "Interesting, is there anything else you can tell me about this human during these events?"

C: "Yes, I've also received reports from other crewmembers around these events that this human is not as outgoing as usual, and shows signs of discomfort with facial expressions and changes in appetite, but does not respond well to the standard psychological protocols for team building and social connection."

O: "What about the timing? You said this has happened twice, correct? How much time was between them?"

C: "Yes, I've documented both with dates. The human requested the painkillers twice, 28 days apart. The crew reported signs of distress for a few days following each request, and two times in the day before the first request."

O: "Alright, I believe your human is using the phrase, "Shark Week" as a euphemism for the start of the menstrual cycle, which is often referred to as a 'period'. To put it simply, one of the female reproductive organs sheds its inner lining roughly once an Earth month, lasting anywhere from a few days to a full week."

C: "Similar to how the Rythyani shed and replace their stomach linings?"

O: "Yes, though the uterus has blood vessels that extend into that lining, so shedding also causes bleeding."

C: "Bleeding? How much blood is lost? Why has she not requested bandages or a transfusion?"

O: "For most, a period is not life-threatening. The amount of blood loss does not require a transfusion to replace, or bandages to stop, though iron deficiency may be a concern for some that can be easily remedied through their diet. Ultimately, your human will know her body and how to handle her cycle best. We learn to deal with periods from a relatively young age. You should have received a human anatomy and physiology textbook when the first human joined your crew. Do you have it?"

C: "Yes, though I do admit I have not yet had the time to read it."

O: "That's alright. The chapter on human reproductive systems goes into more detail about the biology of the menstrual cycle than I can tell you. For the time being, make sure your human knows that she can ask for support if needed, and inform your crew that not all humans will be happy all the time, and they don't need to be. Over time, you will gain a better understanding your humans' patterns. Until then, trust them to express their needs, and talk to them if you have specific concerns. I can give general advice, but they will know themselves best."

C: "Thank you for clearing up the confusion, Mindy, I will look into this and update the protocols as necessary. I have no more questions for you at this time."

O: "You are very welcome, please don't hesitate to call again if something else comes up."

End Transmission

[weirdmageddon]

why i think aradia and john work so well

(with some stuff i’ve been wanting to yap about for ages)

have you guys ever given arajohn / johnradia (idk if its popular enough to even have a standardized ship name) any thought …? i know it seems kind of out of left field. i’ve considered it and i think its. really really good. i have a bunch of thoughts to unpack. come join me. and maybe grab a snack or something because i didn’t realize how much i'd actually have to say about this

(fantastic art by skeletood)

the other day i made a tweet that did rather well where i said, “john and aradia shouldve talked more. its so simple but i like how she actually earnestly answers his questions. so many characters in this comic are so mean to john for just wanting to know more give him a break”

putting it out there now im not big about shipping for the sake of shipping. there needs to be real chemistry. i need to sense that as a reason why two characters would potentially be a good influence on each other. i never knew why i was always so obstinate about this because it’s fictional and not materially hurting anyone, but i think it might be because i’m not sure how to justify it or explain it if not.

i strongly believe john and aradia would have had it made out for them if circumstances allowed it. (what i mean by “ship” or “johnradia” extends to any kind of interpersonal dynamic, even if just a good friendship. it doesnt even have to be romantic, just some sort of dynamic with them.)

unfortunately aradia originally committed herself to staying out of trolling the kids over their timelines, so john and aradia never talked until year 3 on the ship in the dream bubbles but they never had a truly proper one-on-one without outside meddling. i think if john knew aradia better and her story beforehand, she had more time to explain herself and her history, he wouldnt have been unsettled. and also of course if his experience with the trolls didn’t suck so bad because he already had expectations for how antagonizing most of them were.

i found people’s sentiments about johnradia elsewhere too. i remembered that they were both on the song art for ascend, and searched ao3 to see how many fics have been written to gauge how substaintial it’s been in the homestuck fandom. only 17 of them turned up. but the people who do talk about it are either curious about it or really do like it, and that interested me.

clearly it’s pretty niche character relationship to be depicted in any fanwork and i can understand why. despite being so small, from what ive seen it seems universally agreed upon to be nice. i haven’t seen a single person object to it. what ive seen falls into two categories: “wow i didnt think about this before but i actually dig it” or “(starving) finally some good fucking food”

the pattern im seeing is that people think it’s “random”, but i disagree. there is something there substantiating it even if they’re unable to articulate it.

the fanfic these comments are from is chronology of wind. that fic is really, really good, and sadly unfinished. i have more abstract reasons to believe why aradia and john would be good in theory, so actually seeing someone else actually make something with them helped me read it in action, to get a more tangible feel of the dynamic beyond what we have in canon.

i wouldn’t normally make claims about a relationship with regard to homestuck canon by looking at their relationship in a fanfic, because i think you all know by now i am very nitpicky about accurate characterization, and it does not go unnoticed by me when people get it right because for some reason it feels like a one in a million thing (even though it really shouldn’t be?). so this was a special case. the tone was completely consistent with canon. this fic is so in-character i’d basically consider it an extension of canon. to me it’s like they took the same characters and plopped them into this scenario to see how they’d interact. guys… i love that stuff so much. i love fanfiction or fanworks that depict realistic extensions of canon and stays true to the energy and tone of the source, but deepens it. there isn’t enough of it imo. i want to see more of it.

anyway, what i read of their conversations in that fic basically aligned with what i was thinking in my head about what i’d expect it to be like. i was able to compare how aradia and john talked to how aradia and the other characters interacted, their comparative attitudes towards each other—how they’re treated by others compared to how they treat each other.

have you noticed john and aradia’s communication values are both based on sincerity, being in the proper know, treating people fairly, and thanklessly taking on the necessary work that “must be done” in order to have what they really want — a good time that feels meaningful? and they accomplish this without any adjustment in how they talk to each other.

john is always subtly (or not-so-subtly) asking the people around him to answer him soberly and to the point so he knows whats going on and what that means for what his options are. he needs to know to what end he will be applying his absurd energetic drive into making shit happen. aradia honors his time before john can even become uncomfortable with the amount of time being eaten up by conversation. contrast this with rose, who seems to go on for a while with prose-like conversational adornments. in dire situations that need rapid explanation and definitive answers so he knows what to do, this is really the last thing he needs. aradia doesnt waste john’s time. she answers all his questions, and does it politely to boot. his time talking to her doesn't feel wasted.

john's impatience with this sort of nonsense is also why i can’t see something like dirkjohn working out, for example. to me it feels like @entropicbias also deeply understands this on some level because i literally couldn’t have demonstrated what i mean by it any better myself than that. i'm gonna have to to hit him up about how much i genuinely respect that like tbh hes one of the few i absolutely trust to handle writing and depicting these characters in situations and their interpersonal dynamics. and also care about doing their characterization justice as much as me.

of course people are still entitled to like whatever they like, ship whatever they want to. i dont care. but i just don’t think it would work from the perspective of the minds of the canon characters, how they generally think and approach situations. and i can already tell people might ask me how do i know this? what makes me an expert? i’m not more than anyone else is (although i have been called a "characterization expert" from my friends), but i do know that i can pick up on the energetic chemistry between people, including characters, honestly precognitively, without even thinking? like if it’s stiff or tense or awkward, if people aren’t free to express themselves uninhibitedly, if they feel unsafe or uncomfortable. i can sense this almost instantly. it’s something that’s a visceral feeling in my body i cant express and i have to rationalize it after the fact. like i’m doing now in fact writing this big analysis.

> listen to me talk about my special interest boy

for the next section to make sense, you probably want to read this post. i initially started writing it within this post to explain but there was so much brewing i had to explain the context that it turned into something i wanted to post on its own terms.

> okaaaaaayyyyy i read all that

thank you, really. my main point is using the conceptual tools provided by this system to expIain why aradia and john feel nice together and why i’ve seen people positively perceive the idea of a relationship between them even if it seems “random”.

framing them in this system, it wouldn’t be random! there’s a good reason they seem to fit nicely. this is because john and aradia have complementary forms of information metabolism. information metabolism is talked about in this section.

Jung’s psychic types are the types of cognition, or intelligence. But it would probably be easiest to call them types of IM [information metabolism], since the main difference between the types of people lies in their exchange of information with the external world.

Aushra Augusta, Commentary on Jung’s Typology and Introduction to Information Metabolism

aradia megido’s type of information metabolism (otherwise known as a TIM) is LII. john egbert’s TIM is ESE.

aradia and john’s types are duals. you can read more about what that entails here. in theory, their interactions would reflect the duality dynamic. reading chronology of wind, that one really in-character fic that explored their dynamic made me excited because they do!

michael pierce gave an overview of his impression of the characteristics of this intertype dynamic. despite only rough knowledge in socionics while he wrote this, his understanding of duality was spot on to me from my experience and others and i wanted to share it here. (fittingly, i believe he is also LII.)

Now we have the famous duality relationship: in a nutshell, this role is characterized by two traits: 1) a very close psychological distance or intimacy, and 2) a great ease of interacting with each other. It is sometimes described how meeting one's dual can be the event of a lifetime, because it inspires aspects in each party's character that they had never expressed before: the pair may even drop out of society for a time in order to focus on just each other, and to explore themselves through interaction with each other. The curious thing in this relationship is that these parties are rather different in outlook, and when they are not actually interacting as potential friends it's probably more likely for them to dislike or mistrust each other because of how different they are. […] However, when they are able to interact normally, it is a strange and wonderful discovery to realize that the interaction is unexpectedly smooth and invigorating. It's hard for people to describe, but as I understand it: while both parties recognize their differences on the surface, these differences are created by a root structure that coincides perfectly with each other, so that the differences on the surface are entirely complementary and cause no friction at all.

it’s also meaningful to consider that the structure of my own psyche is LII as well. so i’ve got a bit of a bias towards aradia and john.. not in the sense that what i actually say about them is personally biased, but that the bias is moreso my personal attention to people and characters of these two types in particular to see how my own experiences are reflected in them. i really do feel of a reflection of my own thought and work process in aradia and in the more abstract sense she is like an extension of myself. when people say they like aradia as a character i get secondhand joy from that because shares certain specific traits with me. of course i am still my own person though.

these are some of the most apt profiles i've found for these types at a glance. again, think about these characters as you read these descriptions. [from here (ESE / LII)]

ESE (Ethical-sensory extrovert) - john

The trademark quality of this type is a focus on socializing and guiding social situations and interactions so that the people involved can have fun and enjoy themselves. ESEs are typically in the middle of what is happening socially and know about the latest events and what people think and feel about them. They are skilled at bringing people together in fun and interesting ways and making everyone feel actively involved. Their friends know them as people who love life and feel most at home in social situations surrounded by other fun people. In their pursuit of fun-oriented and stimulating social interactions, ESEs typically neglect to structure their own thought processes and views in a way that would help them know exactly what they think and why. They are receptive to others’ attempts to help them introduce more structure and logical consistency in their life and thinking processes. They gravitate most to people who open up to fun and emotional interaction easily, yet are also skilled at systematizing thoughts and views and explaining ideological matters.

LII (Logical-intuitive introvert) - aradia

The trademark quality of this type is a focus on logical, structured thought and generating true assertions and views. LIIs are typically strict thinkers who are concerned that everything fits together in a logical way. They are skilled at understanding, generating, and criticizing logical arguments and instilling their views in the people around them. Their friends know them as people with well-organized thoughts and opinions who know what they think and can elucidate their ideas to others. In their pursuit of logical understanding, LIIs typically neglect their external social interactions and activities that would help them lighten up and experience a connection with other people. They are receptive to others’ attempts to create these fun and lighthearted situations for them. They gravitate most to people who are interested in their opinions and understanding of things, but are also skilled at organizing social interactions and creating a sense of emotional unity.

ive recently consciously experienced the feeling of duality for the first time since i've been communicating with my mom's high school classmate, and it is definitely a real thing. i even remember mom pointing out she noticed when we were all talking on the phone over a year ago that i perked up whenever he said stuff. here is how i explained it:

its bonkers how only once i experience something for myself i’m able to explain in detail what makes it so great based on what my impressions about it were because i tend to have a peculiar way of describing the qualities of an experience. my specialty is deep precision in my analogies for what it’s like. so now i can tell you how conversations with your dual feel… heres the status report. it’s weightless. its so strange. like the topic conversation stretches into infinity that you can pick right back up at any time. it’s hazy and unfocused but still pleasant (unless you’re particularly self-conscious and need to unlearn hiding your true self). but the best parts of it come when you have a specific issue or insecurity that comes with being your most natural self that the world seems to misunderstand about you, or just not give you what you don't even know you’ve been looking for. i think you might mutually intimidate each other at first because you're lowkey both expecting to be made fun of for your inadequacy with certain types of information that the other is nuanced with (and you’re not), but it never comes. you don't feel like what your dual wants in life is wrong. your dual seems so talented in all the ways you hope to shine but you’re always unsure of. for the introvert (me) wishing they felt their own active presence as an object (Se, Ne, Te, Fe) like the extravert does. for the extravert, wishing they felt their own relationships with other objects (Si, Ni, Ti, Fi) like the introvert does. any other intertype relationship (ITR) vs. duality is like the difference between 99% and 100% totality of a solar eclipse, except it’s the level of understanding with another person, like the eclipsing of your own information metabolism with theirs. of course there are other things that influence how well your relationship with this person goes, but i am talking strictly about when it comes to basic communication, the level of understanding you share. sometimes it might feel like you dont have much to talk about or the topic is unfocused, because you two ARE opposites in many ways after all, especially at a glance (domain of interests usually come with specific macroelements. theories about thought structures—like socionics, for instance—are in the domain of intuition, while physical interests and experiences are in the domain of sensorics.) i’m LII in the NT club (researchers) and my dual ESE in the SF club (social-communicative). so they’re constantly providing you with information from their own niche in life that you may be entirely unfamiliar with, but for some reason still interests and relaxes you to hear. you might not feel like you have a lot to say about the topic since but you are fully amazed by this person’s activity. it also makes you feel more sure of yourself and more confident that people truly appreciate and need your natural abilities.

> let’s break it down

here’s some lightly modified descriptions of the information blocks in LII and ESE's information metabolism models from pyatnitsky so you can get an overarching impression of how their type contributes to the informational sphere. i added some of my own adjustments and borrowed some sentences from stratiyevskaya's descriptions. additionally, you can click on the name of the block for an explanation of the role it plays.

i put about a week’s work into these collages but my goal with them was to actually show where i think these information blocks are most pertinent in these characters specifically and where they apply so it’s not just some abstract thing, just as supplementary examples as needed. (for the meaning of these information elements individually you can refer to cysia’s document.)

LII (Logical-intuitive introvert)

EGO (-Ti? -> -Ne!). Analytical thinking. They are well aware of the interrelationships of some objects or phenomena with others, and what laws are in effect or not in effect. On the basis of a comprehensive analysis, they put forward insights about the global essence of specific objects and phenomena, their possibilities. They acutely charge the situation with potential energy. For every situation, there is an archetype.

Super-EGO (-Fi? -> -Se!). Normative ideas about relationships between people and ways to get out of unpleasant ethical situations. Understands ethics as founded on the principles of fairness; to do to one side of the equation that you do to the other. Volitional manifestations in order to protect their living space are carried out only on the basis of personal experience. Because of the limited opportunities to fight back, they react painfully to attempts of any interference in his life. Does not respond to any arbitrary crudeness or volitional pressuring. Does not compromise goals, stubbornly clings to them. Avoids direct confrontation if possible, would rather talk civilly and earnestly. Uses their naturally strong sense of the conditioning of objects over time to avoid collisions with their material interests. Due to this, they may appear as someone with very little weaknesses.

Super-ID (+Fe -> +Si?) Attracts information about a good mood, a specific positive state, or a feeling. They would like to think that they can eliminate serious inconveniences, make the environment around them more comfortable. This skill needs to be evaluated. They are unconsciously activated when there is a need to make the environment more comfortable, which should lead to a better state, raise the mood at least in the immediate environment. In friendly, comfortable, and informal company, their cool exterior thaws and they start lighting up with joviality.

ID (+Te! → +Ni?). Has developed guidelines and methods that relate to specific practical activities, technological effectiveness, and resource use. Spontaneously feels the correct allocation of resources over time, which allows them to effectively solve tasks at an unhurried pace. This pace is deeply rational in nature.

ESE (Ethical-sensory extrovert)

EGO (+Fe! -> +Si?). Perception of the world is fundamentally emotional. Feels the emotional atmosphere well in any situation, knows the relevance of the way of expression, the place and weight (importance) of the internal state in each situation. Flexible approach to solving problems of managing and expressing emotions. They show bright emotionality both negative and positive. Creatively produces around themself comfort, coziness, conveniently arranges space, surrounds others with beautiful things, changing thereby the general condition and mood. Usually opinionated about their tastes.

(wow i really went all out on that this one that tumblr wont even display it in full resolution, so here. john just has so many more lines to choose from, sorry!)

Super-EGO (+Te! -> +Ni?). Practical and technological thinking is tightly based on acquired knowledge and patterns of solving similar problems. Methods of business activity in both general and specific areas are selected based on the opinion of reputable sources, or adjusted to one of the mastered templates. Predicting specific changes in the sphere of their interests is carried out only on the basis of personal experience. He is not able to compare his own method of forecasting with others, so he is sensitive to criticism of poor timing or deadlines, does not like situations that feel like a waste of his time; he is lost in connection with negative events. Guided by purely personal experience, he chooses specific times and deadlines for various tasks with a normative understanding of business activity in general.

Super-ID (-Ti? -> -Ne!). Attracts information about the order, specific logical relationships in the field of activity or interests. Needs someone to suggest specific ways to make connections between phenomena, patterns, and rules. Tries to be reasonable himself, even though he knows that this is not characteristic of him. Sometimes he openly talks of his actions that were poorly reasoned through, as if inviting other people to laugh at his thoughtlessness. The ordering and systematization of thought opens up a new way of understanding of events that are happening around him, as well as new prospects, potential, and capabilities. He likes to think that he understands the essence of a situation and lights up with new ideas. This skill needs to be evaluated. It is unconsciously activated when it is necessary to create order, clear consistency and clarity on a particular issue, especially if their abilities are recognized.

ID (-Fi? -> -Se!). Involuntarily keeps track of communications in their social circle. Without hesitation, they use a variety of ways to establish and maintain relationships that have been developed in his personal practice. Good relationships are important for personal inner confidence in a situation. To prevent unfavorable relationships, they are inclined, often without even realizing it, to act with pressure, forcing a showdown, forcing the partner to change the relationship for the better. Frequently demonstrates his resoluteness, persistence, and purposefulness, as if proposing his behavior as a model for imitation. Usually tells in much detail what obstacles were created before him, and how he overcame them, what he was told in response, and what he replied with, and so on and in the like.

(full res)

you might be able to see already how they would complement each other's thought process nicely. here are some descriptions of what the communication between these types is like:

+Fe! : program function of ESE and dual-seeking function of LII

The ESE periodically tells emotionally charged "program" function stories, telling of how somebody has acted and what they have done. The main orientation of ESE's leading ethical program is: "No one should be offended." The LII carefully listens to these statements, and, demonstrating a full understanding of these issues, develops logical basis for them, e.g. in calm persuasive voice he explains how the ESE has acted justly and fairly. The effusion of turbulent emotions coming from the ESE is counterbalanced by their absorption by the LII, who breaks them down into fragments by asking clarifying questions of the ESE.

-Ti? : dual-seeking function of ESE and program function of LII

The ESE is tuned to accepting information when it's relayed in clear logical form. He issues requests for logical explanations delivered from a point of view of generalized rules underpinning specific life events, which he receives from the LII, who delivers clear unambiguous interpretations, places the dots over all "i's", and demonstrates good understanding of problems that are of concern to the ESE. Not receiving information of this kind, the ESE begins making demands of those around him to be "intelligent" and understand the reasons of his actions.

-Ne! : activating function of ESE and creative function of LII

The ESE feels uncomfortable if he doesn't extend his help to people who are in need of it. His subconscious orientation is: "care and guard the talented", be kind and attentive towards other people. The LII usually meets such criteria by proving in action his aptitude at uncovering hidden capabilities, winning trust, passing on the knowledge. The ESE creates supportive conditions for people who are capable but lacking in assertive "push-through" qualities, among whom the LII finds himself, and a special work regime that protects such individuals from overloads on sensing functions. Newly discovered possibilities inspire and promote the pragmatic and business-oriented activities of the ESE. He can support a new undertaking or initiative with an enormous amount of energy and enthusiasm, light up by new ideas. Only the LII is able to, even having a vague general notion about the subject, construct a developed theory or idea of any issue. This theory shows to be promising in the process of its concrete application within its field.

+Si? : creative function of ESE and activating function of LII

LII tries to take care of their well-being, but may gravitate towards demonstrative asceticism, exhaust himself with work, studies, or exercise. The ESE periodically takes care of creating an environment that "charges" the LII with pleasant sensations: a reception of guests, a good meal, a visit to a theater or a concert, an interesting trip, and so on. At the same time the ESE takes pleasure in this himself.

+Te! : role function of ESE and observing function of LII

The role function of the ESE manifests as business-oriented activity and initiative, supplying interesting information, provision with material assistance to those who are in need, general restlessness and fussy busyness. This function is normative, i.e. the ESE seeks to comply with the norms and accepted ways of doing things. The nuancing of the understanding of these norms, i.e. introduction of activities that go beyond them, is possible only by considering LII's advice and recommendations. The LII serves as a director of this function, adjusting its workings by advocating the necessity of practical application of some beneficial ideas, rejection of useless though spectacular ideas, and the need to ensure standards of life not below average by rejection of equalization.

+Ni? : vulnerable function of ESE and demonstrative function of LII

The ESE poorly feels the flow of time, both physical, which manifests as running late and poor distribution of his strengths over time, and historical, which manifests as poor ability to anticipate consequences of actions and tendency for traditional ways of solving problems. The ESE finds it difficult to make radical choices. The LII fully takes this aspect onto his shoulders. He has an unconscious ability to distribute activities in time, thereby avoiding work stress and overloads, and is capable of making a radical choice. The LII is able to calmly wait and in the necessary moment get to work when the wasteful fussiness of the ESE reaches its critical point.

-Fi? : ignoring function of ESE and role function of LII

On this function the ESE gives advice and makes demands concerning the creation of appropriate psychological distances in form of proper behavior, courtesy and politeness, denouncing rudeness and boorishness. In this manner, the ESE adjusts LII's role function, which in itself contains a set of large psychological distances: a sullen stubborn look, unsociability, etc. With such fine-tuning it becomes easier for the LII to come into contact with people, whereby he becomes more animated, resolves many of his ethical problems that previously frightened him, gains greater insight into human relationships and a more accurate understanding as to whose side to take in situations of conflict.

-Se! : demonstrative function of ESE and vulnerable function of LII

The LII finds it very difficult to exert pressure on other people from his own will and initiative, especially in cases when he needs to attain something for himself. He finds this difficult to do - to press ahead in certain situations, to gather all the required paperwork, to stand in lines and queues, to petition for his own interests, even the ones that are of vital importance to him. He finds it difficult to push a person away, to sharply refuse someone, to quarrel loudly and defend his rights, to put an end to relations that have exhausted themselves. The ESE doesn't directly affect this function, i.e. he doesn't verbally criticize and teach the LII on this aspect, but takes over its functioning completely. The ESE exerts a constant, sometimes intrusive and imposing pressure on other people if there is a need to achieve something, to defend justice and demand fair treatment, to protect interests of those who are close and dear to him. The ESE goes to the right jurisdictions, inspires people around him and directs them towards work and purposeful activity, keeps up a high pace of life himself, and breaks off relations with those who don't deserve trust.

and some miscellaneous excerpts from literature i liked a lot. (i can't remember the sources i used since i've been working on this on and off, for the past week and i was just spilling things onto the post. i think stratiyevskaya?):

Mood - that’s what matters in this dyad - emotions and feelings. Anything that suppresses and overshadows good mood is considered unethical in this dyad and is strongly condemned.

The ESE does not allow the LII to limit him in the possibilities of consuming the amount of pleasures and joys, which he considers to be necessary and sufficient. Fortunately, both partners in the dyad - LII and ESE - are obstinate and unyielding. Both are demanding, unwilling (and not allowing anyone else) to lower the bar of their requirements, unable to give in and make concessions (especially in anything that is of principle for themselves). Both know how to make their partner reckon with their interests and insist on the fulfillment of their demands.

LII is impressed by the emotional generosity of ESE and his spiritual responsiveness. All this finds the deepest understanding in LII, since he is tuned to the same priorities and values. For his part, ESE admires the ability of LII to speak clearly and definitely on every issue. ESE is struck by the harmony of the reasoning of LII, the amazing clarity, accuracy and laconicism of his statements. To ESE it seems that for LII, there is nothing incomprehensible in this world; he can give a comprehensive explanation on every issue. And everything that ESE thought about before is gradually being built into a definite and clear system of views, which he can now very freely and naturally present. Confusion and chaos in his worldview gradually gives way to a stable logical order, as if someone patient and careful was sorting all his thoughts into shelves. Such clarity inspires and activates ESE; he begins to see some prospects for himself, new opportunities. His energy and activity, in addition to emotional and ethical expression, also receives sensory realization: ESE begins to take care of LII and carefully looks after him. If LII is a colleague with whom ESE is especially pleasant to communicate with, he begins to treat him with something tasty, homemade; will make some small, but beautiful and necessary gift (for example: new cologne or a warm scarf).

> okay that's great and all but when are we talking about john and aradia specifically?

yes, that was the point of this post. i just had to build all that up first so i could walk you through my thoughts in a fully substantiated way.

considering chronology of wind again, john doesnt realize it but he needs aradias frankness and insight. even if she’s unable to explicate on vague things, she states the reason why instead of making him feel stupid (it would create a doomed timeline) but thats all john needs to hear. she is self-effacing and only tells him the truth, and we know other people can take advantage of john’s suggestibility in this way. aradia tells john who is or isnt trustworthy, what actions would be useful/necessary and which ones wont, without any selfish personal motive a la vriska or terezi.

^ (juuuust the record my nitpicky ass doesn’t agree with the truth of the classpect interpretation on behalf of the author in the last bit BUT that is beside the point here. the point is that she is answering john’s question in a way that is meaningful for him)

aradia doesnt realize it but she needs john’s friendy goofiness to brighten her up because she is surrounded by people who antagonize her when she’s literally not even trying to get under anyones skin. everybody gets frustrated at her “spooky nonsense” because theyre afraid of their own mortality, basically telling her to put a lid on it because thinking about hard truths makes THEM personally uncomfortable. but to her it’s always just been a fact of life. plugging your ears to reality is ignorance, but at the same time that doesn’t mean there’s no meaning in anything. she wants to help people see this and she dedicates herself to becoming a psychopomp for the deceased and earnestly trying to make people feel emotionally and physically comfortable in their situation through exploring their memories.

john isn’t hostile towards her. by being herself she is immediately able to earn john’s trust when they initially talk. this is also true in canon; the one time they talked when john initially comes up to her, saying “can i ask you something? seem reasonable, and pretty nice.” unfortunately he asked her the one question she didn’t have much to say about, and i can’t blame him for expecting all the troll girls to be basically insane at that point. but i don’t think aradia is insane. yes she is odd, but i think it’s evident that she has a good head on her shoulders with knowledge of the way the universe around her works, and in the end wants to simply bask in watching it play out. i think she deserves to get childishly excited about it, especially considering she was dead for most of her developmental years.

aside from getting his answers answered, john shows curiosity about her and her species and even care about her well-being and state. this naturally comes from their conversation’s ebb and flow. aradia tells this straightforwardly, without bells and whistles and without trying to trick him, unlike the other trolls who seem keen on well..trolling him.. and providing him with unclear answers to those sorts things. maybe aside from vriska, but she did have a little bit of an attitude about it wherein her and john’s dynamic felt uneven or off-rhythm, with a large psychological distance. it’s a different feeling with aradia, however. they exchange information on the same rhythm and so are able to achieve a closer psychological distance in communication.

there are no judgments coming from aradia about john being “stupid”. she doesn’t underestimate him. it’s not just that john wants to understand (although he does), but he needs to understand what he is doing. aradia compliments john about the traits he possesses that allow him to be effective. i guess in a way i’m doing the same thing with john right now.

john is so mobile and strung along by being the action hero going from place to place as a can-do deliveryboy that he never has time to reflect on his losses, think through them, and accept them.

literally who else is more qualified in all of homestuck than aradia for talking to john about these things?

on top of all of this, they have objectively significant connections beyond just mutual self-realization in a way i think could've been fleshed out. there is potential here.

for a story, i can think of a way that a conversation between them could plausibly happen using the systems established in homestuck's mythology. in canon, we see that john never met aradia until year 3 on the golden battleship in the dream bubbles when he goes to sleep.

but john still dreamt out in the furthest ring. that means during those 3 years it was possible for john to have had a dream with her in it, or at least aradiabot. i know john didn't know aradia's name beforehand but let's just explore the possibility that they could have had met before that. remember that all these aradiabots were once this person.

aradia had obtained john's crosbytop, his dads hat, and his wallet quite a while before their sgrub session. theres your entry

imagine john seeing that

memories of dear old dad get stirred up through the link of seeing those items

the dream bubble transforms

john is forced to stand in his memories and explore grief and the meaning of life with aradia

physically being in the space around him would definitely help john reflect easier i think because it will force him to actually exist within the space and talk to someone, taking some time out for this. he wanted to know if anything could've been done or if he was just too late to save them. i know aradia would be able help him slow down and introspect. don't forget the opportunities created by the properties of these spaces that are glubbed out in the furthest ring by the horrorterrors that meld the labyrinthine time and space of their surroundings to the memories of the people and finding others through common points in memory. i would imagine that objects known by multiple people would provide a common point in memory to bring them together.

The bubbles allow the players of Sburb/Sgrub who have lost a life to continue dreaming. The reality constructed in the bubbles is a combination of the memories of everyone inside the bubble accessible to any who has learned the bubble's nature. According to Aradia, it would be quite difficult to exit a bubble to get into a new one, however someone inside a bubble can travel to another one through common points in memory, taking their own memories with them to be integrated into the new bubble. These memories mix and combine, but in general, no new memories are created. Additionally, the bubbles store the consciousness of a player who has lost their dream selves and their original selves, making them double as a form of afterlife; the player is then capable of accessing the memory of anyone else who has gained access to the bubbles. Living players, who have lost or become their dream selves, appear in the dream bubbles when they are asleep. It is in this fashion that the bubbles can be used as meeting places between the dead and the living; even those from alternate universes and doomed timelines can be found in a bubble. Furthermore, in addition to memories, the bubbles can to some extent reflect the thoughts of a player. Beyond that, the bubbles can also behave similarly to Skaia's clouds, showing things that are in some way relevant to the player - such as when coin-flip Dave saw alpha Dave grieving over Bro's corpse - something he was not aware of before being shown it by a bubble.

physically reflect the thoughts of the player…… rubs hands

john and aradia share points in memory related to those objects, and to top it all of they are directly related to john's dad on the same day he died, while aradia grew up with them as bizarre alien artifacts from an archeological dig. the memories are more emotionally charged for john, and i think that distinction would probably be relevant to them both.

to be honest i think after speaking with him for a bit she would readily tell john that she regrets not talking to the kids from the universe her team created sooner before she died, but is glad that she can in the afterlife. in canon, alpha aradia told a doomed dave, "i think its absurd i never introduced myself to you in all that time i spent moping around the lab. guess i wasnt in a very good mood".

now not all the aradiabots would know who john is, because the trolls only found out about the humans once they created the genesis frog and hid out in the lab in the veil from jack who infiltrated their session. the aradiabot in the lab was the last one that survived. so if any one of them would know who john is, it would be the aradiabot that exploded. aradia's dream self ascended to god tier in jack noir's rampage on trolls' derse and took those memories with her which we can assume is what made the last aradiabot explode. its known that any original copy that dies when another rises up becomes a ghost and lives on in the dream bubbles, which would include her. a doomed aradiabot we see in the comic, which was the one that originally landed to alternia in the past, becomes more lighthearted after she dies, a bit more like her alive counterpart.

oh yeah, and the more obvious surface-level connections to top it off? ghostbusters? john ain't afraid of no ghost girl. john would be genuinely interested in what aradia living as a ghost irl on her planet and not as a gaming abstraction in the furthest ring would be like. i imagine she would be able to explain the subjective experience and that she had to prototype herself into the kernelsprite order for her server player to see her. there's also no way john hasn't seen a movie as classic as indiana jones and judging from her poster i can imagine he probably thinks it's sweet that aradia's strife specibus whipkind is a reflection of her own personal tastes, interests and hobbies.

so yeah i've just been chewing on all of this and thinking about it but i know i needed to just get this out there somehow. obviously since i spent two weeks putting this post together i'd be happy to hear your thoughts