#when it would be convenient i think about it. like how convenient it would be to find a canadia partner so i csm move there

[formulaisa]

So I saw you were taking requests for Franco and i thought I would share my idea!

How about Mexican reader where she is like a fan of formula 1 and goes to one of the gp (any of them). And like she is there minding her business in the paddock (like asking drivers for photos and autographs) and Franco sees her and is like 😍😍😍 immediately and when reader goes to ask for a photo he starts like actually interacting with her (more than the polite thank you for being a fan talk) and idk you can take over from there.

Don’t feel pressured to write this! I just think is a cute idea and definitely not self protecting

The Signature | Franco Colapinto

Summary: Growing up watching Formula 1 with your dad made you dream of attending a Grand Prix, but you never imagined your first paddock experience would lead to catching a certain Argentinian rookie's attention.

Warnings: some spanish (with translations)

Author's note: Sorry for the inactivity! I've been busy with my family for the holidays. If you have any feedback or suggestions, I'd really appreciate it. I hope you enjoy! <3

F1 Masterlist / homepage / main masterlist

You had always dreamed of attending a Grand Prix. Ever since your dad introduced you to Formula 1 at a young age, you were hooked. The roar of the engines, the speed, the energy of the crowd—it all fascinated you. But the problem was, you lived far away from any Grand Prix, and the costs for tickets, travel, and hotels made this dream seem impossible.

That all changed when you went to college in the US. You were awarded a generous scholarship to a school in Texas, conveniently close to the US Grand Prix. Juggling a waitressing job and school, you worked hard and finally saved enough money to attend a race. To top it off, you earned enough to afford a paddock pass. There was only one thing that could make this experience even better: having your dad with you. Though he couldn't be there, you had a plan to make it up to him. You'd bought him a blank hat and set out to get as many driver autographs as possible for him.

It was a scorching Saturday in Austin. Qualifying was starting in just a few hours, so you arrived early, hoping to catch some drivers for autographs and photos. The paddock was already buzzing with activity—mechanics wheeling tires, engineers huddled over laptops, and the occasional flash of a driver's race suit disappearing into a garage.

By now, you'd been surprisingly lucky. You'd gotten photos and signatures from three drivers: Carlos, Yuki, and Nico. Their signatures decorated the pristine white hat, each one making you imagine your dad's face lighting up when he saw it. But you wouldn't be truly satisfied until you got signatures from your two favorites: Checo and Lewis.

The Texas heat was beginning to wear you down. Your outfit, a cute dress and cowboy boots, looked stylish but weren't exactly built for the sweltering weather. Sweat beaded at your temples, and you could feel your hair starting to stick to the back of your neck. You stopped by a kiosk to grab a water bottle, then took a quieter shortcut back to the main paddock area, hoping to bump into a driver.

Just as you rounded the corner, you spotted him. It was hard not to. Franco Colapinto was strutting through the paddock in his navy blue Williams polo, his trademark smirk on full display. The young Argentinian driver had been making waves in his rookie season, his natural talent and charismatic personality quickly making him a fan favorite. Now was your chance.

Suddenly, a small lump filled your throat. It was a strange sensation, one you hadn't felt with any of the other drivers today. Your hands felt clammy, and your heart began to race. You found yourself nervous in a way that had nothing to do with meeting a Formula 1 driver and everything to do with meeting him.

"Umm, hi, Franco?" you asked, your voice hesitant. "Could I get a picture?"

He paused and turned around, pulling an AirPod from his ear. His dark eyes met yours, and his smirk softened into a genuine smile that made your stomach do a little flip. "Yeah, of course," he said, his Argentine accent adding a musical quality to his words.

You pulled out your phone and went to take a selfie. As you did, you noticed Franco adjusting his hair in the camera, running his fingers through the dark waves with practiced ease.

"Sorry, it's just so hot here," he explained quickly, before leaning in and flashing a smile for the photo. As you snapped the picture, you caught him glancing down at you, his eyes lingering for just a moment longer than necessary. The subtle cologne he wore mixed with the mechanical scents of the paddock, creating an oddly intoxicating combination.

"I know. I feel like I'm melting," you said, tucking your phone back into your purse. A bead of sweat rolled down your temple as if to emphasize your point.

Franco hesitated for a moment, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. His eyes sparkled with interest as he asked, "¿Hablas español?" [Do you speak Spanish?]

"Sí, sí," you replied with a small smile, pleasantly surprised by the question. [Yes, yes.]

"¿De dónde eres?" he asked, his signature smirk returning. [Where are you from?]

"México," you said, "pero voy a la universidad aquí." Your voice grew more confident as you spoke in Spanish, and you noticed how Franco's posture relaxed, his shoulders dropping slightly as he leaned in to hear you better. [Mexico, but I go to college here.]

“I could tell from your accent,” He nodded, clearly interested, still not in a rush to leave. The bustling paddock seemed to fade into the background as he focused his attention entirely on you. He glanced around the paddock, then asked, "Are you here by yourself?"

You sighed lightly and nodded. "Yeah, it's just me." The admission made you feel suddenly vulnerable, but there was something comforting about the way Franco listened, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Paddock pass all for yourself, huh?" His voice carried no judgment, just genuine curiosity.

"I saved up all my tips from work," you said, absently playing with the lanyard around your neck. "I originally wanted to surprise my dad with tickets for his birthday, but I couldn't afford a flight and hotel from Mexico, so it didn't work out."

He looked at you with understanding, his expression softening. "Where do you work?" he asked, genuine curiosity evident in his voice.

You shrugged slightly, a little embarrassed. "Just some restaurant... I'm a waitress." The words felt small compared to his profession, but his interested expression never wavered.

"What's it called?" he asked, taking a small step closer.

"Trust me. You wouldn't want to go there," you replied with a self-deprecating laugh, knowing Franco wouldn't be interested in the casual, country bar you worked at.

"Still, I’m curious," he asked, the same flirtatious tone in his voice. “Besides, I’m more interested in the service.”

"It's called Buck Wild," you said with a small laugh, watching his expression for any sign of judgment. “It’s a very Texan country bar.”

"I think I'd learn to like it," he teased with a smirk that made your heart skip a beat. His eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled, you noticed. “When do you work there?”

"Tuesdays and Fridays," you answered, still smiling, trying to ignore the flutter in your stomach at his continued interest.

He nodded, clearly thinking. "I leave on Thursday..." he muttered to himself, his voice soft and thoughtful as he created a mental plan. The words hung in the air between you, heavy with possibility.

Your heart began to race, and a warm blush crept up your neck. The way he was looking at you, the casual tone of his voice, the fact that he was even asking about your work schedule—it all pointed to something more than just a typical chat with a fan. You found yourself hyper-aware of every detail: the way his polo shirt stretched across his broad shoulders, how he kept shifting slightly closer to you, the warmth in his dark eyes.

Then, reality crashed back in as you remembered why you had actually approached him. The hat for your dad was still tucked away in your bag.

"I-I know you probably have to go soon, but before you leave, could you sign this for me?" you asked, pulling the hat out of your bag. Your fingers trembled slightly as you handed it to him.

He smiled warmly and took the sharpie and hat from you, his fingers brushing against yours for a brief moment. "Wow, you've got quite a few signatures already, huh?" He examined the other drivers' signatures with interest.

Franco signed the hat, moving slowly, almost like he was savoring the moment, stretching out the conversation. His signature was deliberate and careful, unlike the rushed autographs you'd seen him give to other fans earlier.

You smiled and explained, "I'm trying to get Lewis and Checo too. They're my dad's favorite drivers." Your voice softened when you mentioned your father, and Franco seemed to notice.

"Ah, Good taste," he said, nodding. Then, his expression shifted slightly. He glanced at the hat, pausing. A look of realization and minor panic appears on his face. 

���Wait,” he gestures to the hat “This isn’t for you?” 

“No, it’s a gift for my dad,” you explain “Why?” 

You look down at the hat in his hands and see his scrawled out signature. Underneath you see something else he had started to write. “+54 2322…” 

Your eyes widened as you realized what he'd done. "Joder," he muttered under his breath, quickly scribbling over the numbers, a faint blush creeping up his neck. Despite his embarrassment, you noticed he didn't step away.

You couldn't help but laugh softly, a warm smile spreading across your face as you looked up at him. The moment felt surreal—here was Franco Colapinto, Formula 1 driver, getting flustered while trying to give you his phone number on what he thought was your hat.

"I can just give you mine," you said shyly, still flustered but charmed by his awkward attempt.

Franco pulled out his phone, opened a new contact, and handed it to you. His phone was warm from being in his pocket, and you noticed his lock screen was a picture of his dog. Just as you were typing in your name and number, his phone buzzed with a message: 'Where are you, mate? Meeting started ten minutes ago.'

Franco's eyes widened with panic, and you could tell he was starting to realize just how much time he'd spent talking to you instead of attending his meeting. The easy conversation had made you both lose track of time completely. You handed him back his phone, but before you could say anything, he quickly added, "Let me give you my number too."

You began fumbling through your purse for your phone, your fingers clumsy with nervous energy, but before you could find it, you were interrupted by a loud voice from the Williams garage.

"Franco! Stop flirting and get over here. You're late, and James is pissed!" the mechanic yelled, his voice cutting through the paddock's ambient noise.

Franco looked over, frustration and guilt crossing his face in quick succession. "Sorry," he muttered to you, grabbing the sharpie back from your hand and hastily scribbling his number on your arm. His touch was gentle despite his hurry, and you felt goosebumps rise on your skin.

Before you could even react, he gently handed you back the sharpie. "I'll see you around..." he said with a wink and a grin, before turning and jogging off toward the Williams garage. You watched him go, admiring how he somehow managed to make even a rushed exit look graceful.

You stood there for a moment, your heart racing, the cool sharpie mark on your arm tingling where his fingers had just been. The numbers were slightly smudged but still legible, and you couldn't help but trace them with your finger.  You smiled to yourself, looking forward to the next time you'd see him and happy with the most special signature you’d gotten that day.

✩₊˚.⋆ all work belongs to formulaisa. please don’t modify, translate, or share my writing, and don’t feed it to AI.

[sgiandubh]

On sightings

It's that blessed time of the year, with eggnog and spice galore?

Anons are never unemployed for long, because - as I always say - the idiots' mother is always pregnant.

To counter Park Anon, perhaps, another casual fan (relevant later) posted a sighting on another one of those FB behemoth fan groups that come with a LOT of small print barking around ('BE KIND! NO BULLYING! NO SPAM! NO ADS!'). That particular group is obviously Spanish/Latino based and that is sort of relevant, in the geopolitics of this fandom:

Anyways, here goes. The woman had no fucking idea of Claire Fraser's civilian name, but was ashamed to admit to it - so long for accuracy, dude:

Her sister is also a member of the group, but curiously enough nobody asked her anything, even if she was there and could have given her own feedback on the whole event. And she did not offer any, even when her next of kin was clawed around by the patrolling Stans Brigade. Perhaps because she's only been a member of the group since December 15, 2024 (her sister, the OG informer, was active in there since August 30 2024, only)?

Anyways, all the obsessive tropes seem to have been thoroughly checked, in that comment thread.

Blonde Bambino? ✅

Tracula? ✅✅- you know that one was coming, right?

The Wookey Hole Caves is an amusement park in Somerset - oh, how convenient:

C might have went with Blonde Bambino and retinue for the Winter Wonderland show - it does make sense.

An easy daytrip from London, too. But it had to be Somerset, for some reason - where C has established no footprint since 2019 and something she never mentions in fan events (even though Tracula's relatives do live in that area - plot thickens). Where no other sighting had been reported since at least the Italian guy taking a fan pic with C, circa 2019-2020 (help me on this one, veterans 😘?).

What stroke me as odd wasn't even the lack of pictures. It would have been very easy to sneak one, since the OG informer's nephew was riding along Blonde Bambino on an age appropriate ride - but hey, let's not nitpick on that one, after all Park Anon didn't have any, either. Also, the OG informer is unsure about Caitriona's name, but knows exactly how old Blonde Bambino is? What about that 'almost 4" - did C casually throw some pebbles along the narrative track, like Hansel in that fairy tale? Isn't Blonde Bambino supposed to be 3 years, 4 months old? How is that 'almost 4'? Was the OG informer using her own deductive skills, based on a ride Verboten sign?

The carousel the Blonde Bambino could not supposedly ride on is this one. It is situated indoors, in the park's Penny Arcade zone, at The Mill (https://www.wookey.co.uk/things-to-do/):

What stroke me as odd is that both the OG Informer and the Riding Toddler's mum are inexplicably elusive about any specific details. I was not expecting a deposition transcript, for sure, but at least a couple of those details that bring warmth, humanity and plausibility to a story. You know, like Park Anon's little girl having a tantrum because she didn't want to go home:

[Source: https://www.tumblr.com/sgiandubh/751391542332325888/i-always-read-the-comments-on-sams-posts-because]

Nothing of the sort, here. But if anything, what gave me pause the most is this tiny little tidbit the sanctimonious people across the street do not want you to see:

You read that right. The Perfect Stay-At-Home Dad couldn't be arsed to watch 'his' son on a ride, in an amusement park where things can and do happen. The One Who Always Babysits, even when his 'wife' is clubbing around with her Praetorian Guard (credit given accordingly 😉) in London, knowing perfectly well C has a full time nanny for 'Baba', looked completely disconnected from the scène de genre. So much so, that the OG Informer had nothing else to report.

So which one is it? Was it T, was it someone else from the Praetorian Guard? Does it really, really matter?

All this carefully calibrated story surely made me think about one of the times I lied to a very nice bungalow B&B landlady, somewhere on the coast of the Peloponnese. When our electricity blew out in the middle of the (cold, February) night, I had to call her and explain 'me and my husband' were about to die frozen in her idyllic little orange orchard. My 'husband' was my best gay friend (currently posted somewhere in the Middle East, LOL) and we were very much plastered with excellent wine, which we happily continued to imbibe after the incident was solved. Bless her heart, she did ask me the next time I went there (with Someone, 😱) how was my 'husband' doing. I shamelessly told her we got divorced, in the meanwhile. She smirked and mumbled something like 'eh, diplomats'. LOL.

Double standards are, as always, prosperous across the street. Other than that, may I just add the most recent reviews of the park are ahem, mixed, at best?

Especially, perhaps, this particular review, written by a mom of a three-years old little girl:

[Source: https://www.tripadvisor.co.uk/Attraction_Review-g635922-d213489-Reviews-Wookey_Hole_Caves-Wookey_Hole_Somerset_England.html]

I find the management's answer extraordinarily enlightening. They know they have a problem with it. They offer settlement outside of the saloon, perhaps a batch of free tickets and hefty discounts thrown in for good measure. LOL, really LOL.

Hence my question, Your Honor: was it even C? Why would she do that, when she could have easily went to Eurodisney in Paris or any other fabulous London seasonal attraction, of which I am sure there are many? This, by all accounts, sounds more like a sad, rushed and tacky improvisation - again, why? Why on Earth do that to 'Baba'? Why?

Make it make sense, please, because right now it surely doesn't.

I rest my case.

[haebi-nd]

INUMAKI TOGE x non-sorcerer!reader

where you're just a high school student who happens to work at a convenience store near jujutsu high | a moodboard w/ headcanons ++ This is just a cute idea I had in my drafts for a while, tbh I don't rlly know if it makes sense, like would there be a convenience store near jujutsu high, idek

stocking shelves upon shelves, fake smiles that don't reach up to your eyes as you scan items and wish customers a good day

the only bit of excitement throughout your shifts was the quiet boy who always lingered among the snack aisles despite always buying the same thing every time, onigiri

the quiet boy with silver hair who always has the bottom half of his face covered

who stares at you while you ring up his items or when you count his change back to him, like he's memorizing your features, or something

who quite literally has never spoken a word to you despite giving him your warmest smiles, the ones that did reach your eyes

you only see him sometimes but nonetheless, you're still curious about him

something about it has your mind wandering towards him during your classes—thinking about him and how soft his hair seems to be when you should be taking notes about whatever it was the teacher was explaining

—wondering how long his eyelashes are exactly and what he's covering under those masks and zipped-up hoodies, zoning out as you make your friends repeat what they're saying for the third time

—imaging how deep or soft his voice must be and how it would sound if he were to ever say your name, as you sit in your living room, the tv becoming background noise

but then again, if he were interested he would've said something by now...right?

that's why it catches you by surprise when he's handing you his phone with the phone app pulled up and opened to the keypad

you're already punching in your phone number and handing his phone back to him before your mind can even process it

the two of you are inseparable, metaphorically, as days pass with your nose in your phone, fingers tapping away at the screen, and a shy smile plastered on your face

from the mysterious jujutsu high you've always walked past to the beautiful markings on either side of his smile, you learn everything about him

he's nervous about it at first, not sure that you quite understand how dangerous it all is

but you ease his worries away, with each brush you give to his soft hair with your hands or every kiss you peck onto his nose, cheeks, then his lips

it takes you a little over 3 months to fully understand his lingo, but you wouldn't have it any other way

from late-night convenience store runs together to intense, competitive, game nights, you really wouldn't have it any other way

because inumaki makes it so easy, too easy, to love him

© haebi-nd, haebi nice day

[mama-qwerty]

Loving your analysis on the Sonic 3 lore. May I request a deep dive into Agent Stone’s character? I just think he’s neat and had some character development throughout the films.

In talking about Agent Stone, we have to talk about Robotnik's mindset and dynamic in relation to him. Stone doesn't exist in a vacuum, and it's his relationship with Robotnik that helped shape him over the course of the movies.

Gonna get looooong. Again. Because I just can't shut up when I get started.

In the first movie, Stone's simply an assistant, an over achieving second to Robotnik. (Possibly the only agent who could stand to put up with him for so long.) He was a little brown nosey, and portrayed the stereotypical characteristics of a really good assistant that we see in other media, going back as far as Radar from M.A.S.H. He anticipated his boss' needs, and supplied them almost before they were requested.

Robotnik obviously didn't respect him, even if he liked how Stone made his latte. Although I'd be hard pressed to think of anyone Robotnik actually respected or liked, honestly.

But it was curious why Robotnik then created a likeness of Stone to keep him company on the mushroom planet. It could be explained away that Robotnik was used to talking about his plans out loud, used to spouting about how brilliant he was, and what he felt were clever quips and barbs at those he deemed 'lesser' than himself, and needed an audience to do so. Not to mention, having a 'companion' of sorts helped keep him focused. Since Stone had been his latest lackey, the most recent sycophant to hang on his every word, he simply went the most convenient route and used him as a placeholder for this required role.

But was that all there was to it?

Robotnik went to the trouble of carving a face onto the rock. Carrying it with him wherever he went as he traversed the planet, seeking out sustenance and shelter and concocting his Rube Goldbergian machinations to make himself a cup of mushroom coffee. As a man of science, a man who prioritized his own survival and logical nature over useless sentimentality, it's curious he would go to the trouble of not only creating a likeness of Stone, but 'wasting' precious energy and cargo space carrying it around.

Which indicated that Stone's presence had a greater impact on the doctor than he admitted or realized, even to himself.

This is further reinforced by the doctor's manifesto, as referenced in the Sonic 2 pre-quill comic. In that, we learn that Robotnik left this as a sort of instruction manual for Stone to "rebuild [Robotnik's] glory on a mass scale". It guided Stone to "rebuild [himself] as an instrument of pure science", and helped Stone to infiltrate the Mean Bean and rise through the ranks to ultimately own it, and create that as a home base for further operations.

This indicates that Robotnik saw promise in Stone, and trusted Stone more than he'd likely trusted anyone else. Yes, it was all to build a society that Robotnik orchestrated, but the fact that he created the manifesto, with the intention of having Stone read and implement it, showed a greater reliance on Stone than previously indicated.

So Stone is in place, having transformed the Mean Bean into a secret base worthy of the best super villains. And now he waits.

And waits.

And waits.

All the while having to deal with the public.

As anyone who's worked in any kind of customer service job can tell you, dealing with the public day in and day out can drive anyone to thoughts of villainy. That last customer Stone deals with is a prime example of this, with the rude looks and actions, and overall disdain and contempt for service people in general, and possibly him in particular.

He misses the doctor, because he understood the doctor. Robotnik was a big thinker, someone who had higher aspirations and goals than anyone he'd ever met before. He didn't hold a high opinion of the general public, and the more Stone deals with them, the more he understands that mindset. And through the manifesto, Stone likely felt even more connected to Robotnik.

It's possible that Stone's feelings for the doctor didn't start out as a more personal, emotional kind of love. It's possible, and likely, they were simply admiration, because Robotnik was incredibly intelligent, and never let anything stop him from achieving his goal. In Stone's experience, it was possible that the previous people he worked with didn't have that level of dedication. So when he got with Robotnik, it was refreshing to see someone taking his position seriously, and not simply 'doing a job'.

But when Robotnik was bested by the hedgehog, and sent to the mushroom planet, Stone may have felt a little rudderless. Since he was working with Robotnik, and Robotnik himself had been wiped from GUN's database, Stone may have been a casualty of that as well. He was simply a 'lowly agent', so it wasn't that much of a loss to wipe him, too.

Either that, or he intentionally kept himself hidden to avoid being captured and grilled regarding anything else Robotnik may have been doing. Stone strikes me as the kind of man who can blend in with a crowd, and disappear at will.

He knows the system, and knows how to exploit it.

When the doctor returned, Stone was thrilled. Everything he'd worked for up to this point was finally going to be recognized, and he wanted nothing more than to pick up where he and the doctor left off, working together and striving for a better world.

Since Stone had been working at the Mean Bean, a place within Green Hills, he likely saw Sonic on and off. He couldn't blow his cover, no one knew he'd worked with Robotnik, after all, but GOD, seeing that hedgehog would have made the bile rise in his throat. This little alien, this cocky little furball had bested the doctor and sent him away, as though he were in the wrong. And this entire town supported it! And here was this blue rat, living here on Earth as though he belonged.

That fact alone would have pushed Stone even further to the side of Robotnik, thinking that the general public is nothing but "primitive, sport-cheering, social media-scrolling knuckle-draggers". They'd cheered the defeat of a genius, one who was simply trying to capture this unknown alien element that has proven itself capable of destruction on a mass scale, and call him the bad guy. Yes, his methods had been maybe a little unorthodox, but when dealing with such an enemy as an alien with super speed and the ability to create large blasts of energy, you had to think outside the box.

But he was finally back, and he'd brought yet another little spiky furball. And had left with it, leaving Stone behind yet again. But that was okay. He would return. Stone was sure of it.

And he had. But he'd been . . . different. Gotten the Master Emerald, and was . . . changed. And when GUN showed up, Robotnik had put his genius on display, and taken Stone with him this time. It was glorious, but had taken Stone a little bit to catch up. (Thankfully there was a manual!)

Then everything had gone pearshaped again, and those furballs won.

No matter.

Stone was a patient man.

He knew GUN's procedures and it took hardly a moment to infiltrate their ranks. He used their own technology and manpower to find Robotnik amid the rubble, and scurried him away to heal and regroup. One of the things included in the manifesto was blueprints of many machines and creations, and Stone had put Robotnik's drones to work building a giant crab bot.

GUN may have had eyes everywhere, but the ocean was still a mystery in may ways. And it hid may a secret.

But as the doctor healed, he fell into a deep depression. Being bested by the blue rodent not once, but twice, had done a number on his psyche. He'd lost all drive for world domination. His access to any of his drones and bots had been all but severed, and there were only a scant few satellites still in orbit with them aboard. Hardly enough to wage an all out assault, especially with THREE alien vermin on Earth to challenge him.

No. Robotnik was utterly demoralized.

But Stone stayed by his side. He kept Robotnik comfortable, and tried to reignite that spark within him. Tried to suggest heists and schemes to keep his spirits up. But it was to no avail. Stone stepped up, assuming a caretaker role, and offering support whenever he could.

He kept tabs on GUN's comings and goings, and when the board lit up after Shadow was released, he went to investigate. He found those rodents pinned down by drones, but not just any drones, Robotnik drones. This wouldn't do. If anyone was going to use those drones to take out these annoying little furballs, it would be Robotnik himself.

So he killed the drones--with the annoying side effect of saving the rodents--and returned to base. The aliens had followed, but he was keen enough to realize they had a common enemy.

An alliance was formed, and Stone had to admit that it was good to see the doctor more like his old self. Unsurprisingly, Robotnik very quickly narrowed down the source of the hijacked drones, and the group quickly went to investigate.

But then they'd found that old man. And Robotnik had tossed Stone to the curb because suddenly he had found his 'real' family, someone who would love him unconditionally.

And it hurt.

Stone never fooled himself to think he was ever on Robotnik's level. He was nowhere near as smart as the doctor, and couldn't even comprehend how the man thought. But he'd thought they were more than simply villain and henchman. Robotnik trusted Stone, more than he'd ever trusted anyone else. Stone had seen Robotnik at his lowest. At his most vulnerable. And didn't care.

Typical henchmen wouldn't stick around when the boss is defeated. They wouldn't drag his body out from under a felled robot and keep him safe. Help him heal. Fetch him burritos and cheap novels and steal cable to hook him up with episodes of La Ultima Pasion to help him pass the time.

Stone was still following Robotnik's manifesto, even when Robotnik himself had given up. Because he had faith that the doctor would eventually snap back to himself. That he would realize that the world needed him to correct it.

And that someday, maybe, Robotnik would see Stone for being the one person who'd stood by him, from the very beginning.

And he had.

When it was too late.

Robotnik's message to Stone as he managed to stave off the final explosion of the ARK gave Stone that validation he'd been looking for. Told Stone that, even though Robotnik was terrible at expressing himself, he had, in his own way, loved Stone right back. Appreciated Stone. Valued Stone.

And that's all Stone had ever wanted to hear.

And maybe, that gives Stone the encouragement he needs to continue with Robotnik's manifesto.

~~~

Check out my other Sonic 3 analysis posts

[gingerteafairy]

veins of the forgotten (dean winchester x reader)

The Impala rolls smoothly along the dirt road, the engine rumbling softly as it pulls onto the highway. You kept a calm, almost serene look on your face, in sharp contrast to Dean, who had a worried, nearly frantic expression. This wasn’t just another hunt—it was something that would define your relationship from here on out.

⟵previous chapter next chapter⟶

tags n warnings:argue,cursing.word count: 4.7k

The music played low in the background, the soft hum of the engine accompanying it until the first stop came—just like the others, but this one felt different. And, honestly, it was more stops than Dean was used to. "Damn, girl. What’s up with you? You got a sieve or somethin'?" he teased, slamming the door shut with a little more force than the poor Impala deserved.

"Excuse me?" You raised an eyebrow, letting out a short, disbelieving laugh as you crossed your arms. You turned to head into the gas station, scanning the place for the bathroom. "Sorry if I don’t want to end up with a UTI, Dean. That kinda thing happens when you hold it too long."

"Jesus Christ," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head. "Looks like you’re seriously worried about that. This is the 7th stop since Bobby’s place," he whined, pointing a finger at the bathroom as if it were the enemy.

"6th," you corrected, rolling your eyes. "And it’s not worry, it’s a real possibility. You wouldn’t understand, but I’m trying to be practical here." You took a deep breath, striding purposefully toward your destination, hips swaying slightly as you walked.

The attendant, a grinning guy in his mid-thirties, chuckled as he caught sight of you slamming the bathroom door shut. "After the wedding, they all go nuts," he joked with a laugh.

"Tell me about it," Dean muttered, rolling his eyes as he dug through his jacket pocket for his wallet. He was trying to keep it together, but it was clear—he needed coffee. Bad.

The road trip had a way of exposing the cracks in their dynamic—how your strength unsettled Dean's need for control. He was used to being the dominant one, the leader, the one who called the shots without question. But you, with your sharp mind and unwavering confidence, weren’t one to simply follow. You spoke your mind, made your own decisions, and handled things with a calm authority that didn’t ask for permission. 

At first, he admired it—he always liked a woman who could stand her ground—but as the hours stretched on, it started to chip away at his usual bravado. Every time he tried to take charge, you pushed back—stronger, fiercer—and he was left to navigate the frustration of not having everything go his way. The tension simmered, a constant tug-of-war between his need to be in control and your refusal to be anything but yourself.

You came back just a few minutes later, adjusting your jacket as you scanned the store for Dean. When you spotted him at the convenience section, your posture relaxed. You walked up to him, tossing a quick glance around before falling back into place.

"Feel better, sweet thing?" Dean shot you a smirk, handing you a cup of coffee, the steam rising from it. "Let’s not make 15 stops in an hour, okay? I’m about to lose it."

"God, Dean," you muttered, taking a sip of the hot drink. "What’s your problem?"

"What’s my problem? Nah, sweetheart, what’s your deal?" He shot back with a little grin, shrugging his shoulders dramatically. "I didn’t wanna play Mission Impossible here. You’re the one who said you could do in a day what Sammy and I can barely do in three. So if you wanna get to that damn city, stop making pit stops every five minutes."

You snorted, running your fingers through your hair, walking beside him. "Mission Impossible, huh?" you laughed. "You think I’m some kinda action hero? It’s not my fault you guys move like molasses in January."

"Well, if you don’t wanna take forever getting there, quit acting like you’ve gotta pee every two seconds," he retorted, pushing open the car door for you before slamming it shut with a little more force than necessary once you slid in.

You sighed, leaning your elbow on the window as the car rumbled to life again. The tension between you two was palpable, the sweet mood you shared now feeling like it had been stripped away by the endless road ahead. What started as a romantic trip felt more like a test of patience, each mile stretching out longer than the last.

After hours of driving, you finally arrived at a small, isolated hotel near the city. The place was tucked away, a perfect strategic stop close to where the creature was rumored to be hiding.

"Good evening, two rooms, please," Dean grumbled at the clerk, clearly exhausted from the drive.

"Full," the young woman shot back without even looking up from her phone, her fingers dancing across the screen as she painted her nails.

Dean’s eyebrows shot up, a frustrated growl escaping him. "Look, sweetheart, I don’t think you understand the situation…" You interrupted, stepping forward and nudging him aside with your hip.

"We’re on our honeymoon, sugar," you purred with a smile that could melt steel, leaning in just enough for her to catch a whiff of your perfume. "We need a room. You know how these guys are—so eager to get to the room, if you catch my drift." You shot a look at Dean, giving him a sugary sweet smile, which he returned with just as much fake sweetness.

"Yeah, this woman here is all fire and spice." Dean chuckled, stepping closer, sliding an arm around your waist and pulling you in tight, his grin widening as he smacked your ass. You shot him a look that could kill, but he was too busy playing the part of the lovey-dovey husband. "I’m just crazy about her."

The attendant let out a small laugh, clearly charmed, and slid a key across the counter, decorated with a little cartoon heart drawn on it. "Here, enjoy yourselves. Happy honeymoon."

"Thanks, sweetheart." Dean grinned, winking at her as he took the key and led you toward the hallway. “Good acting, almost made me believe you fell for me.”

“I fell.” You cut, pushing him away from you as you unlocked the door. “But you ruined it all.”

The room was in a separate wing, the door heavy as you pushed it open. It led to a small, cozy space with a table in the corner, a comfy couch, a simple bathroom, and, of course, a massive bed that could fit four people comfortably.

Dean shut the door behind you with a soft click, his gaze flicking over the room as he walked toward the table, starting to unpack his gear. You tossed your bag onto the couch and began rummaging through it, pulling out your own supplies.

"I’m gonna take a shower," you said, turning toward the bathroom. Your voice was quieter now, tired of the tension that had been hanging between you two all night.

Dean didn’t respond, his focus entirely on the weapons laid out before him on the bed. He was checking, re-checking, making sure everything was ready for the hunt. At least, that’s what he wanted to appear to be doing. He was avoiding you, pretending to be busy, and it only stoked the fire of frustration building in your chest.

"I'll be quick," you added, hoping for something, anything—a sign that maybe he’d acknowledge you.

"Whatever," Dean muttered, his voice sharp, but still distant. His fingers moved over the gun in his hand, tightening, loosening, as if the metal was more important than your words.

You crossed your arms over your chest, exasperation bubbling up. "Couldn’t you just stop being like that?" you demanded, throwing your hands up in the air in frustration.

Dean scoffed, not bothering to look up. "Oh, I’m sorry. Was I supposed to drop everything and cater to your every whim?" His words came out tight, coated with a bitterness you hadn’t expected. His annoyance was turning into something sharper now—something you didn’t quite understand.

"Tell me why the hell you’re so mad at me. We were fine before this hunt," you said, your voice softer now, but no less desperate. You took a step closer to him, your pulse quickening, but there was still a cold distance in his posture. His shoulders were tense, and he still hadn’t made eye contact. "You look like a completely different person."

Dean finally looked up, his eyes flashing with irritation. "I don’t know," he snapped, voice low and biting. "Maybe because you’re annoying, cocky, and with that damn overconfident nature of yours. Did you learn that in college, or did it just come with you?" His jaw was tight, his words sharp like daggers, meant to cut.

Your heart twisted at the sting of his words, but you weren’t about to back down. "At least I got a major," you shot back, crossing the space between you, your voice rising. "You didn’t even finish high school."

Dean’s hands clenched into fists, and he groaned, dragging his hands down his face as if trying to stop the anger from boiling over. He exhaled a harsh breath, trying—and failing—to keep it under control.

"Your little winged friend told you that?" he sneered, his tone laced with mockery. "You the new goddamn favorite now? Sharing secrets with your angel boyfriend?" His words stung, the insult landing exactly where it hurt, even if he didn’t know the full truth behind your connection with Castiel.

You let out a short, incredulous laugh, shaking your head as you massaged your temples. "Seriously?" you muttered, your voice quiet but heavy with exhaustion. "Go ahead, Dean. Just wreck everything. Why not?"

Dean smirked, leaning back slightly, his posture still defensive, as if every word was a calculated move. "You’re so good, aren’t you?" he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Better than anyone, unstoppable. Maybe you wanna replace Sam too?" His words were like a slap, and you could feel the heat rise in your chest.

“Unbelievable,” you muttered, stepping away from him. Your feet moved with purpose toward the bathroom, your mind a whirlwind of frustration and hurt. You didn’t want to do this. You didn’t want to fight anymore, but it felt like there was no other way to get through to him.

"Whatever," you tossed over your shoulder, your tone biting but resigned. "Don’t spy. I know who you are." You glanced back at him one last time, the flicker of something unreadable in your eyes.

Dean didn’t reply, just turned his back to you. His shoulders stiffened as he refocused on the plans in front of him, like you were already forgotten.

You flicked your middle finger up in his direction, a last defiant gesture before you shut the bathroom door behind you. The lock clicked softly, and you leaned against the cool surface of the door, trying to calm the storm inside you. The hot water ran down your back, but it didn’t have the power to wash away the way you felt—frustrated, hurt, and utterly lost. You wanted so badly to let go of this, to let the heat of the water cleanse you, but it wasn’t enough. You wished you could scrub the feelings you had for him away, but they were stubborn, impossible to wash off with soap.

Dean was always so damn impossible to read, and maybe that was the worst part. Because no matter how hard you tried to get close, to figure him out, he always built walls around himself. And you weren’t sure how much longer you could keep trying to break them down.

Dean sat on the bed, waiting for you to finish up in the shower. He hated how the whole situation became in just one day. He hated even more that the feeling didn't stop even between the fight as hating you was the only way to get you out of his head. 

After what felt like an eternity in the tub, you finally stepped out. And then it hit you. Shit. You’d forgotten the towel.

You stood there, dripping wet and indecisive, staring at the bathroom door. Three options. One: walk out naked and risk Dean mocking you while you grabbed your clothes. Two: ask him to get the towel for you. Or three—maybe he wasn’t even in the room, and you could sneak around unnoticed. Yeah, that’s a good one.

You hesitated for a second, then called out, “Dean?”

You shut your eyes immediately, bracing yourself for his inevitable teasing. But instead, you heard him shift on the other side of the door. He raised an eyebrow at your voice, clearly unsure of why you were talking to him. Slowly, he got up and walked toward the door. He didn’t open it, though—just stood in front of it, blocking the way.

"What?" he asked, his tone somewhere between confusion and annoyance.

Your cheeks flared hot with embarrassment as you cracked the door just enough to poke your head out. “Uhm…”

Dean’s gaze immediately locked onto you, and for a second, his expression faltered. His eyes widened at the sight of your wet hair, water still dripping down your face and neck. His heart did an uninvited flip in his chest. “What do you want?” he asked, trying—and failing—to keep his voice steady, hoping you wouldn’t catch the slight stutter. He clenched his jaw, fighting to keep his usual cocky, indifferent attitude. But damn, you looked��� breathtaking. The smell of shampoo clung to your skin, mixing with the dampness of your hair, and he had to force himself to look away.

"I… I forgot my towel," you mumbled, your eyes darting anywhere but at him. The sight of him, standing there so close, was doing strange things to your stomach.

Dean froze for a moment, momentarily caught off guard by the vulnerability in your voice. He cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure. Then, with a smirk that didn’t quite reach his eyes, he leaned against the doorframe, putting on his best cocky face. "Well, just come out and grab it," he said, trying to act like it was no big deal, but the way his heart rate quickened betrayed him.

"Shut up," you hissed, but even you could hear the edge of uncertainty in your voice. It wasn’t the best moment to demand anything from him. “Please?”

Dean rolled his eyes, though he couldn’t hide the way his chest tightened at the pleading tone in your voice. For a second, he debated, but then he shrugged, giving in without thinking twice. He walked into the room, maybe—just maybe—sharing a room wasn’t so bad after all. As he reached the towel, he grabbed it quickly, his fingers brushing against the fabric as he held it out to you.

"See? You didn’t die," you said with a sharp breath of relief, mocking him as you snatched the towel from his hand.

Dean clenched his jaw, forcing himself to look anywhere but at you. But even so, his gaze kept flickering to the way the towel barely covered your wet skin. His heart skipped another beat, and he cursed under his breath, trying to regain control of his emotions. "Yeah, whatever. Just don’t use all the hot water, princess," he muttered, quickly walking back to the bed, doing his best not to focus on how beautiful you were standing there, wrapped only in a towel.

You pressed your lips together, quickly wrapping the towel around yourself before stepping out of the bathroom. As you reached for your pajamas, you caught the intensity of Dean’s stare from the corner of your eye.

“What?” you asked, your voice sharp with annoyance.

Dean’s gaze snapped away like you’d caught him doing something wrong. His heart was still racing as he tried to act casual. "Nothing. Just… get ready for bed. I’m tired and I wanna sleep." The words came out a little too quickly, a little too harsh. And you noticed the strain in his voice—the tightness he couldn’t hide.

You raised an eyebrow at him, a little defiant. "Go to the bathroom." Your voice was firm as you crossed your arms. "I’ll get changed."

Dean scoffed, a teasing grin creeping onto his face. "Oh, the best hunter in town is shy about me? This is cute," he said, his eyes flicking to you with a mix of challenge and amusement.

The smirk on his lips irritated you, but it also cut through your nerves, making everything feel just a bit lighter. You folded your arms tightly, trying not to feel self-conscious. "Okay," you said, matching his playful tone but with a little more bite. "Then turn around. I don’t want your dirty eyes on me."

Dean’s shoulders sagged, the smirk faltering as he let out a frustrated breath. He hadn’t realized how much tension he’d been holding in his body, but when he heard the firmness in your voice, it was like a switch flipped. He took a step back, turning his back to you and muttered, "Yeah, that’s what I thought of our best hunter—so confident." He tried to keep the frustration from seeping into his words, but the truth was, part of him was just… relieved.

As he stood there, facing the wall, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something between you two had shifted. Maybe it was the argument earlier, or maybe it was the way you’d stood there, wet and vulnerable, asking for help. But whatever it was, it lingered in the air between you, thick and impossible to ignore.

He couldn't keep it. His eyes moved by themselves, roaming all over your barely covered figure. He was starting to notice small things about you. Your hair, or the way your body looked, the small dots and cutie marks. You were beautiful, more than that. Gorgeous. Like a dream he didn't want to wake up. When you dressed the pants, he looked away. 

“I'm ready.” You announced, turning to him. 

“Thank you for the show.” Dean got up, walking over to the bathroom as you blushed hard and ran to slap him. He went inside, locking the door, his head racing. He couldn't stop thinking about you, and it was driving him crazy. He closed his eyes, trying to relax and collect himself. This wasn't normal, he never felt this way about a woman before. He turned on the shower, hoping the hot water would help calm his racing heart.

After what felt like an eternity, Dean walked out. His eyes immediately fell on you, taking in the sight of you in your PJs he bought you at the convenience. "I'm done.”

"Good" You shrug, but your eyes insist on roam over him. Towel wrapped on his waist. It should be illegal to be handsome like this.

Dean noticed the way your eyes roamed over him, the same fire coming back again. "Yeah, good." He walks over to his side of the bed and sits down, getting changed.

You take a deep breath before coming back to make the guns ready. Dean's eyes fell on your it, taking in the sight. “I put herb prototypes, I'm trying to make them fit on here, like the salt ones." You explain noticing his interest.

"Herb prototypes? So, that's why you asked.” He managed, finding them fascinating, just as fascinating as you had become, holding it and making a whole new thing. “How does it work?” 

"I guess it's effective against magic". You simply smiled as he leaned forward, curious to learn more. “It is supposed to explode when I shoot, it creates a mass amount of herbal smoke. Most creatures have a system similar to insects, hating CO2 and burned smells. We use burned salvia and things like this. Guess we’re the only species to like smoke.”

Dean was now even more impressed. Your weapons were intricate and well-thought. "How did you even come up with that?" 

"Years of research, trapped in a basement. You become creative." You joked, the hint of sadness of the past still present under the playful tone.

"Impressive." Dean raised an eyebrow, a small smirk playing on his lips. He was beginning to enjoy your little back and forth. "Yeah, it is. I hate that you’re way smarter than me.”

You froze, not expecting his praise. You were used to taunting, insults and an unsafe home environment. "Uh, yeah thanks. You're.. not that bad either." 

You were back at the table, your fingers brushing over the guns, making the final adjustments to the prototypes. The quiet click of the tools, the hum of the room—it felt like the calm before a storm. You couldn’t focus, though. The words you needed to say were swirling in your mind, building up and pushing you to speak.

"Can I ask you something?" You muttered, voice quieter than usual.

Dean’s eyes flicked from the guns to you, brow furrowing in concern. "Yeah, sure. What is it?" His voice was low, as if trying to gauge the mood in the room, sensing something off in the air.

You hesitated for a moment, your hands stilling on the metal parts in front of you. "Why'd we turn like this?" you asked softly, but there was a weight to the question that made Dean’s heart ache, even before he could understand it fully. "We were just so... connected some hours ago. Like lovers, you know?"

The words hit him like a punch, and Dean’s heart seemed to stop for a beat. The room suddenly felt too small, too suffocating. He couldn’t look at you, couldn’t meet your gaze. His eyes dropped to the floor, his chest tightening as he swallowed hard. "I... I don’t know," he muttered, his voice distant. "Things change."

It wasn’t enough. It wasn’t the truth, and you knew it. He could barely look at you, and you could feel the divide between you growing, each word pushing you further apart. You tried to keep the ache from showing on your face, but it was there—raw, real. "I miss that," you admitted, your voice cracking just slightly as the words left you.

Dean’s throat tightened at the sound of your vulnerability. He wanted to reach out, wanted to tell you everything, but the weight of his own unspoken thoughts kept him locked in place. He missed it too. More than he could say. He wanted to go back to the way things were, back when everything felt right, when he could pretend for a second that maybe, just maybe, there was something more between you.

But all he could do was stand there, helpless, as you started to pull away.

"Nevermind. It’s just a stupid dream," you muttered, standing up abruptly, the words bitter on your tongue. The room felt colder, as if everything in the world had shifted just slightly out of place. "Soon, you're gonna be good ol' Dean again, the charming guy in the streets, getting every woman you want. And I'll just be a bad memory."

Dean’s chest tightened painfully, a lump forming in his throat at the way you spoke about yourself. His hands clenched at his sides, desperate to say something—anything—that would stop you from thinking like that. "Shut up," he commanded, his voice barely above a whisper. The words were sharp, but they were also a plea. He didn’t want to hear you talk about yourself like that.

"What we had was too good to be true," you whispered, voice breaking. Your eyes were filled with the quiet sorrow of someone who had hoped for something that might never come. And when the tears started to fall, Dean’s heart shattered into pieces. He could feel each one of them, the delicate weight of your pain crushing him.

He kept his eyes on you, watching the way the tears slid down your face, and in that moment, all he could do was stare, his body frozen. His voice came out softer than ever, low and almost fragile. "What makes you think that?" he asked, almost in disbelief.

You shook your head slightly, laughing between the tears, trying to mask the hurt. "I’ve liked you since we first kissed," you admitted, the words tumbling out, raw and vulnerable. "Something good happened for once, and I thought it could be great. That my life could be... I don’t know. That we should date or whatever." The last part was weak, a breath of hope slipping away. Your hands were trembling, fingers digging into your arm as you tried to hold yourself together, as if you were afraid you might fall apart completely.

Dean’s chest tightened, his breath catching in his throat as he looked at you. His eyes lingered on your form, on the way you fought to hold back the tears, and how the tension in your posture told him just how much this hurt. He opened his mouth to speak, to say something that would make everything better, but the words wouldn’t come. His throat was dry, tight, and for once, he felt completely lost.

Before he could form a response, the thin, eerie screech of something in the distance made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

"Shit." You interrupted him, wiping your eyes quickly, your expression shifting from vulnerability to focus. "It’s the witch."

Dean’s heart skipped a beat at the sudden change. His mind raced, snapping back into hunter mode, but he couldn’t completely shake the emotions from his chest. "How do you know it’s her?" he asked, his voice strained with urgency, but there was still a crack in it.

You were already moving, running toward your guns, your hands instinctively going to work. "I can feel it," you murmured, your voice distant, as if you were already locked into the feeling of the curse. A shiver ran down your spine, the air around you turning cold as a heavy, poisonous sensation crept through your veins. Her magic mixed with the murdered child’s sorrowful energy, creating a taste in your mouth like something rotten. You could feel it deep in your gut. She was dangerous.

Dean’s eyes widened, the sharpness of the situation cutting through the heavy emotions between you two. His mind snapped into action, but for a split second, he couldn’t help but feel the weight of everything that had just been said—the closeness, the distance, the truth neither of you could admit. The witch would have to wait. But damn, the timing was never good, was it?

Dean nodded, his hunter instincts kicking in. He could sense it too, the tension in the air, feel the presence of magic. He instinctively grabbed his gun, walking to the door, waiting for you to get your coat. ."How do we stop her?"

"I'll figure out. let's go."You murmured, the invisible  net of magic pulling you, indicating her direction as she was calling you. As she wanted to be seen by you. 

Dean followed you into the forest, feeling uneasy as the trees grew denser around them. The dark, foreboding forest matched the sinking feeling in your stomachs. He kept his eyes sharp, though it was difficult to see through the darkness, and he kept his hand on his gun, ready to fight if needed. The silence was almost eerie, as if the forest itself held its breath, waiting for something terrible to happen.

The silence was broken by the flapping of wings, and a tense feeling settled in the air like a thick fog. Crows and owls flew around you both. 

"You gotta be kidding me." Dean muttered, a chill running through him as the birds flew towards you both, trying to hurt you. He jumped into action, his heart racing as he tried to protect you. He swung his gun at the birds, trying to fend them back as he stood between you and the birds, protecting you.

"What the hell are these things?!" He spat, trying to hold back the swarming birds.

“You heard my calling…” a velvet-like voice carried a danger spot behind you both, making the birds fly away to the sky as your vision focused on a mid-age beautiful woman. “Now we can begin.”

taglist:

@iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @callsign-ember @s0urw00lf

[zolo-san]

So I was recently looking at the layout of the Sunny and only just realized that the boys all sleep in bunk beds Which got me thinking of who shares what bunks and who has top and bottom bunks 🤔

I'm curious if anyone has any opinions on what they think the boys' sleeping arrangements would be (replies and reblosg with your head canons are very much encouraged)

my personal hc is below:

Going from right to left, starting at the door I think the final sleeping arrangements ended up as: Top Bunk: Zoro | Luffy | Chopper Bottom Bunk: Sanji | Franky | Usopp

I don't think this is how they all started out tho

I think Luffy and Chopper's beds have always stayed the same Luffy would have chosen a top bunk because he thinks the top bunk is cool and would want to be in the middle so he's closest to everyone I don't know why, but I think Chopper would feel safest higher off the ground so he'd take a top bunk as well Usopp probably originally chose the middle bottom bunk because he thought he'd feel safest there, but once he realized he couldn't easily escape in case of an emergency, he would have quickly swapped with Franky When it first came time to claim beds, Zoro first took the bottom bunk closest to the door (1: because it's easy access for him to crawl in and sleep & 2: he tends to be instinctively protective so he put himself by the door) Sanji was per-occupied in the kitchen when everyone chose their beds so the only bunk left was the one above Zoro (and boy, oh boy did he make a stink about that before finally giving up and taking the bunk) Problem with Sanji and Zoro's originally sleeping arrangement was that Sanji is one of the first to wake up in the morning because he's just generally an early riser and also because he has to prep breakfast for the crew While his bed being closest to the door was convenient, him being in the top bunk meant that every morning, without fail, he woke Zoro up when he would get up to start breakfast Everything sort of came to a head one morning when Sanji was getting up and a very tired, very over it Zoro yanked him off the ladder and the two of them ended up in a full blown fight that woke everyone up (including the girls lol) Eventually they came to the solution that the two of them should just swap bunks (this was Robin's idea) As for Brook... well, he joined after all the bunks were claimed and technically doesn't have to sleep, so he mostly will just end up hanging out elsewhere on the ship throughout the night, but when he is in the men's quarters, his place of choice is the kotatsu (he likes to be cozy 😊) I would assume after Jinbe officially joined they had to somewhat reconsider sleeping arangments on the Sunny once again lol

[lgvalenzuela]

They appeared sometimes around the Lighthouse, violets. Rook would just laugh and put them in little vases or maybe teacups. Yet he would catch him sometimes looking at them with an uncharacteristic melancholy.

That day (Night? Hard to tell it was always sunny in the Lighthouse) he wasn't sleeping, as usual. He just needed to open the door to get the smell of a good Antivan coffee, that was freshly done at the kitchen table. Rook was sitting at the table, with a book, but he wasn't reading, he was just staring at a little violet he was fiddling with his fingers.

Lucanis took the coffee and inhaled the aroma before taking a sip, for a tea lover Rook was remarkably good at making a good cup of coffee. He approached the kitchen counters, may as well repay the gesture by making something he knew Rook would like, even if that something was tea.

He placed the cup of tea next to Rook and sat down to enjoy his own drink. Rook chuckled:

“You didn't have to” he said, with a smile

“But you did?” he asked

“I figured, since you were probably going to be awake anyway”

He leaned back on his hand, trying not to look tired, but it had been a while since he last slept. If anyone could tell that, it was Lucanis.

He was impossible to figure out that Rook. Ever since he broke him out of the Ossuary he could see it, behind the charming smile and the pleasant dialogue. Rook did not like him. Or more accurately he probably didn't like the Crows. He would catch glimpses of truth sometimes hidden on what Rook would say, maybe it was typical Warden righteousness. But it felt different than his squabbling with Davrin.

And yet some days, he would just open the pantry door to find a coffee made just for him. He was used to seeing Rook being uniquely empathetic. He read the words of prisoners on the Ossuary, he promised they would be remembered. He watched him give money to every beggar they met and pet every animal they saw. Lend a hand to every person who asked and smile at every misfortune.

He did that for them he was sure, so he would appear like a beacon they could turn to. He certainly was that for him…

And yet there he was, tiredly looking at a violet:

“Where should I put this?” Rook sighed

“You always save them, the violets”

“Might as well, they appear because of me”

“Do they?”

“Are you trying to get information out of me, Lucanis?”

“Only if you're willing to share”

“How nice of you…” he fiddled with the teacup “They make me think of when things were simpler, do you have things like that?”

“I…try to…”

His eyes wandered over the coffee again, when he would open the door and find one made just for him, how distinct the aroma was when Rook was the one who made it, he could've sworn it tasted differently than anything before. How during his sleepless days he would study the wyvern tooth dagger he got him, picturing that little kid he once was, with a smile that somebody took into consideration what he wanted.

He thought about the way his voice sounded when he would hum to himself, or his little laugh when he would joke to himself almost.

“They make me think of Ferelden, the flowers, a little garden my mother had in the Alienage”

“Tue… sometimes I forget…”

“Yeah, people usually do, until it's convenient to remember my mother is an elf. That's why I try to make a point to remind people, I'm not human even if I look the part.

I moved out of the Alianage when I was still young though, the only Cousland left besides my uncle so…” he rubbed his eyes “Do you remember…in the Café…when we talked about family expectations”

Lucanis nodded

“I think…I understood you…a little bit more after that. Do they expect you to…No, that's a stupid question. Of course they expect you to…as a heir”

“Are you talking about carrying the family name?”

“You understood that quickly, didn't you?

It was…complicated…back home things are not as bad for elves back home…well not as much since the Hero of Ferelden.

But they're not as good as to expect a noble woman to…”

He thought about it for a moment, looking deeply into Lucanis' eyes. Oh how beautiful his green eyes looked with the lights of the fireplace flickering in them. As he meditated on how much he wanted Lucanis to know. He looked away, but he continued:

“There was one…”

“A noble woman”

“Yes” he drank a bit of his tea, looking down “Violet, her name was incidentally

Good girl, was willing to get married, have a couple of kids, the whole thing…and one day I walked into the room and asked her to leave…”

Lucanis fiddled slightly with his fingers, looking over at Rook. Why was he telling him this? Of all people? Or maybe he had already told the others. But what if he was the first one? Why was he putting this trust in him after…?

But why not listen? After everything he had done, even if nothing was specifically to save Lucanis. He had done so anyway and how little was to just offer a listening ear after all of that?

“Why did you…” he contained himself, thinking carefully “Why did you tell her to leave Rook?”

“... because I'm selfish…because I knew she didn't love me and I didn't love her…”

The tears came so seamlessly even Rook was a little surprised when he noted he had started crying. He tried to wipe his tears but they wouldn't stop:

“Shit, I didn't…” he buried his face in his arms “I just…I wanted it so badly for someone to see me…I wanted someone to want me as I am…

And I know I will never find that person but maybe I wanted to keep the illusion…”

Lucanis extended his hand to him, but stood frozen in place, unable to really reach him, touch him.

How comforting was the illusion that he could ever be that person for Rook. That he would see him the ways he saw him. But Lucanis couldn't be that person.

He didn't know if he lost the ability to be comforting long ago, or during that year in the Ossuary but whatever it was, he retracted his hand.

“You carry all of this besides the weight of the world?”

That got a little laugh out of Rook, he turned to him with a slight smile:

“I don't even know why I'm telling you this”

“Neither do I, but I'm…here to listen, if that's what you need”

“You also make really good tea for someone who scoffed at me finding out what my favorite drink is”

“It's just water with some leafs in it”

“Careful Crow, or I'll start putting ice in your coffee”

“You wouldn't dare”

“I'd watch out, Neve’s always close and she doesn't get much sleep either”

“I think she has enough murdering her own coffee”

And there was that big smile, the one that made you feel like every problem would melt away.

Maybe one day he’d be able to figure him out, maybe take a piece of the burdens he carried. Today wasn't that day, but maybe…someday…

Writing Challenge

Alright now that I was both sincere and pedantic(warned y’all I’m almost always both) here’s your writing challenge for the day. Don’t forget there’s no time limit to these, if you find it in a month I’ll still reblog it. I’ll take pretty much any BW fic not just DA. Reblog, tag, or link me!! My ask box is always open as are my DM’s! Without further ado:

I want flirty dialogue without physical touch OR flirty touch without dialogue.

OR OR

If romance like that isn’t your thing I want angst. Give me the longing. Give me the hurt/comfort. I yearn for yearning. Emotional distress???? I love that shit. I’m leaving this one wide open. Bonus points if you manage both categories. Look for mine later.

[tulip-room]

To Have and To Hold- k. tetsuro || wc: 9k || warnings: hurt/comfort, parental problems, blind dates, fatphobia implied, chubby reader implied, fem reader, Kuroo is a sweetheart, outbursts, drinking, ignoring problems until you're unable to, marriage, miscommunication, pining, I promise it ends with them happy!!! I wrote this at like 2 am-6 am after being awake since 10, not proofread, if there are typos kindly avert your eyes, Kuroo is a nerd, Yn is a girlboss, fake dating, marriage of convenience until it's not, I think that's everything- || a/n: this is for @nekomasmngr !! I hope you like your secret santa lovely and that you had happy holidays <3 , also a thank you to @lale-txt for making the secret santa event to begin with <3

"I don’t want this to be pretend anymore.”

"I don’t think it’s been pretend for a long time.”

She remembers the night it was first thought up, the arrangement. “How about if…when we turn 30 we get married?” It had been a rainy night, the soft trickling of the rain trailing down the smooth glass of the window of the diner. Kuroo held a singular fry in his hand and waved it about before crunching down on it. “You know, it just makes sense.” She’s sure there were bits of mascara and eyeliner patched beneath her eye from the crying earlier. “You need to get your parents off your back by marrying someone and who better than your best friend?”

“Okay, you’re pushing it there with that best friend comment.” A smile makes its way onto her face and she attempts to hide it by using the heel of her hand to rest her face on. “I guess your statement has some validity,” she sees the smirk on his face grow. “I said some. Don’t get ahead of yourself, I haven’t agreed to anything yet.” He shakes his head and takes another fry from her plate as he leans himself on the table.

“You’re telling me there’s no way you would agree with me? Is the thought of marrying me so bad?” He teases her as he bites on the fry, this time there isn’t a crunch as he bites into the food. “Think about your parents, weigh the options.”

“You’re pushing this really hard Tetsu,” she rolls her eyes and slaps his hand away as he reaches for another fry. “Stop stealing my food you vulture!” He scrunches up his face and rubs at his hand where she hit him. “If I didn’t know any better I would think you wanted to get married.” She kicks his foot lightly with hers under the table, she misses the blush that begins to cover his face. He clears his throat and kicks her lightly back, quickly putting up a mask to make her unaware of his feelings. 

“Aww, you wound me,” he places a hand over his chest in faux pain. “It’s like you don’t want to marry me.”

“I guess it would be beneficial,” she finally gives in with a sigh. “But only if we’re both still single by then.” He smiles and quickly holds up another fry. He gestures the fry towards her and she grabs it from him and quickly eats it. “Your birthday is a few months after mine, do I just wait for you to turn 30?” Her face scrunches up and she sticks her tongue out. “Still don’t like fries.” 

“And I still do,” he takes the last fry that he’s slowly been munching on throughout the meal. “No, we’ll go based on your birthday. I figure it’ll take a couple of months for wedding preparations anyway.” He shrugs and takes the empty plate and sets it on top of his own as he pushes them to the end of the table for the server to collect. “So, Valentine’s Day?”

“I’m not getting married on Valentine’s Day.”

“March?”

“If we get engaged in November you think we’ll have everything all planned by March?” Kuroo rolls his eyes at that. 

“What date do you suggest then?”

“May, a spring wedding.” With a sigh he nods his head. 

“My allergies are going to be killing me.”

“A small price to pay for good photos.” She teases and brushes her foot against his. His hand twitches like he wants to reach across the table and hold her hand in his but he restrains himself. “I’ll be back soon,” as she says that the waiter comes by and asks how many checks. She doesn’t see Kuroo holding up one finger to the waiter as she says “two checks please.” The waiter nods and walks away. 

When she comes back she sees Kuroo tucking a receipt into his wallet and tucking it back into his black suit pants. “You didn’t,” his head turns toward the sound and he smiles as he stands up and hands her his jacket from the back of the chair. Hesitantly she allows the cloth to be wrapped around her body as they walk out into the chilly air of the outside. Kuroo had picked her up from work and now he opens the car door for her to sit inside. “Trying to butter me up already?” She asks with a soft smile, Kuroo jokingly nods and shuts the door with a click behind her. 

When they meet up again next New Year’s Eve it’s at a party that they managed to convince Kenma to host. Host may be a strong word for what he’s doing, but they’re grateful nonetheless to be able to use his home. She hadn’t expected the awkwardness to come between them as it had in the past year. More silences, less laughter, the prospect of marrying each other not bringing the level of comfort they thought it would. 

“Hey stranger,” she hears the call from over her shoulder and despite herself a smile grows on her face. With a roll of her eyes she turns and faces the man in question. “What are you doing out here all by yourself? Aren’t you cold?” He rubs his hands together at the sudden chill over leaving the warm home. She just hums in response and he leans against the railing of the balcony next to her. 

“It’s not that bad, just got to be too much in there ya know?” He takes a step closer to her and their shoulders brush together. “I think we got too in our heads about marrying each other.”

“Potentially.” He reminds but it doesn’t make her feel better. She clears her throat and nods. 

“Right, yes…potentially.” They sit in silence for a moment before both of them go to speak. “No you–”

“You can–” A fit of laughter passes between the two and she can feel her shoulders relax.

“We’re so stupid.”

“A little bit,” He smiles and hits her shoulder lightly with his. She turns to glare at him but can’t keep the smile on her face down. 

“I don’t feel like we’ve actually talked in a while…I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too Y/N, let’s talk now. We’ve got all the time in the world.” 

“I would like that.” She’s not sure how long they sit outside and talk about things they had missed. Too caught up with potentials instead of remembering their friendship comes first. They hear the counting down happening inside as it draws nearer and nearer to midnight. “Want to be my first kiss to draw in the New Year?”

“If I didn’t know any better I would say you were trying to win me over so I can’t do anything but marry you.”

“Come here.” She puts her arms around his neck and pulls his face closer to hers. “If you actually shut up every once in a while you wouldn’t need to fake a marriage with me.” 

“What does that mean?” His hands settle on her hips and his thumbs dip under the hem of her shirt and make small circles on her skin.

“Girls might like you more if you shut up. Idiot.”

“I’m not–” she cuts him off by gently kissing him. He thinks about how soft her lips are and how right his hands feel holding onto her. Just as soon as the contact was established it left, a fleeting touch he caught himself before he chased after. 

“Happy New Year Tetsuro.” 

“Happy New Year,” when he’s sure she’s gone he brings a hand up to his lips and his breath hitches. With a sigh his head drops down and he can feel the pain in his chest. “Stupid, stupid, stupid.” 

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” she whispers to herself as she makes her way through the party. “Why did I do that?” She places a hand on her forehead and sighs deeply. She knocks on what she assumes is Kenma’s door and opens it slowly. “Can I come in?” She can see him nod his head and closes the door behind her as she makes her way over to the plus bed. “I did something stupid.”

“Usually,” she hits him lightly and he smiles at her as he turns to face her for a moment before returning to his game. “I assume you’re going to tell me, out with it come on.” 

“I kissed Kuroo.”

“Finally.” She looks at him a little confused by the statement before shaking her head.

“Finally?”

“Don’t worry about it. What caused this outburst?”

She grabs her arm and rubs it gently. “The clock hit midnight…”

“So it was a New Year’s kiss? Why are you so nervous then?” 

“Because we decided to get married if we were both single by my thirtieth birthday and it’s been awkward between us since we decided that and…and I think I messed up the friendship.” Her eyes close and she hears Kenma pause his game and feels the dip of the bed as he moves around to sit closer to her. 

“It will take more than a kiss at midnight to get rid of Kuroo.” She feels the weight of his hand on her shoulder and it’s a comforting presence. “You and Kuroo married huh? That would be a sight.”

“Yeah, I got tired of my parents…you know how they are.”

“Still trying to get you to go on blind dates?”

“Yeah. The most recent guy they tried to set me up with was a character. The entire time he talked about himself and how lucky I was that he agreed to go on the date with me.”

“What an asshat, you deserve better than that.”

“I know.” She smiles at him and he shakes his head.

“You deserve better than what you think of yourself, if you don’t find someone…Kuroo will be good for you I think.” He gives a tightlipped smile before turning back to his game. “You can stay here tonight, how much have you had to drink?”

“Just a few shots. It’s a party Kenma, I refuse to stay completely sober.” He rolls his eyes and allows her to lean against him. “Thank you.”

With a shiver Kuroo goes back inside, finally calmed down from the kiss they shared. He grabs his coat from the closet and waves goodbye to a few people he sees. Pulling out his phone he sends a goodnight message to Y/N before slipping away from the party and back to his own quiet home. He feels like he’s pitying himself as he steps over the threshold of his home and takes off his shoes and coat. His hands reaching up to finally undo his tie. He feels his puppy hop against his leg and with a smile he reaches down and picks up the small dog. “Hi buddy, why aren’t you asleep?” He coos at the small animal as he holds it in his arms. The dog wiggles in his arms and yips at him. “Oh stop that, I’m home now.” He carefully sets the puppy back on the floor and makes his way to the kitchen. 

As he opens his fridge for a snack he feels a buzzing in his pants. “This is Kuroo.” He answers without checking the caller ID. 

“I know,” he stands up straight as he hears her voice. “Did you get home safe?”

“Yeah…just got in.” He clears his throat and leans against the counter of his kitchen. 

“I’m glad.” There’s a few moments of silence before both try and talk again. “About earlier–”

“So about the kiss– sorry. You can go first.”

“We keep doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“Interrupting each other.”

“I guess we do.”

“Why did you leave so quickly?” He can hear the fan from her end of the call whir in the moments of silence before and after she speaks. 

“I needed to feed Mochi.” A lame excuse but he hopes she’s too drunk or tired to realize it.

“Next time don’t leave as quickly. It’s not as fun without you.” He puts more water and some extra food in Mochi’s bowl before he makes his way to his bedroom. He holds the phone between his shoulder and ear as he starts changing into pajamas and out of his work clothes. 

“Okay.” He’s not sure why he feels so melancholy about the night. Why it seems like there’s a weight in his chest and why his eyes sting. Clearing his throat again he takes a breath and closes his eyes. “Get some sleep, it’s late and we have work tomorrow.” He can hear soft snores on the other side of the phone and lets out a small laugh. He hangs up and lays on his bed, Mochi jumps on his chest with a yip and he smiles at the behavior. “Let’s get some sleep Mo.”

Three more years before their deal goes into effect. It’s a few months into the second year of five before the two are able to sit down and have a proper dinner together. Lunch in his office is more used as a break from the madness of work, he says he wants her in there because if someone else is in his office they leave him alone. That may be part of it but she suspects that’s not everything. It’s not mentioned as they sit in mostly silence. 

“I have another blind date today,” she says as she crunches on her salad. She sees Kuroo pause in his movements for a moment before going back to normal. “It’s some guy that’s the son of my parent’s boss or something.” She looks away from him and back to her food. His jaw clenches and he reaches to adjust his tie. 

“Are they just using you to further their own career?”

“I don’t think so. I think they’re grasping at any straws they can.” 

“We can move up our arrangement if you want,” he suggests.

“It’s okay, five years is a fair shot to try and actually find someone.”

“You sound like you just don’t want to marry me now. I’m hurt,” he jokes although there’s an underlying truth she doesn’t pick up on. She puts the lid back on the now empty plastic salad container and sets it off to the side as she reaches over to his mini fridge and pulls out a soda. 

“It’s not that, well. Okay, you wouldn’t be awful to marry. I suppose. At least in a technical sense–”

“Now you sound hopelessly in love.” He teases and puts his elbows on the table as he rests his head in his hands. 

“I’m not in love with anyone. That’s the problem Tetsu.” She sighs and feels the fizzle of soda go down her throat as she takes a sip. “I’ll keep you updated. Hey, maybe it’ll all work out and he’ll be a perfect gentleman.” She doesn’t want that. She wants him. She wants to marry him but she’s not sure if he really wants to marry her. If it’s all just convenience…just helping out a friend in need. 

He looks up to the clock and notices the shuffle of people going back to their desks. “I’ll come get you and give you an out if you need one,” he says as he watches her throw her food away and head towards the door. She’s facing the glass and if he were able to look closer he would see the look on her face as she replies.

“I know. Thanks, see you tomorrow Tetsu.” 

She gets off the train and looks around trying to find the restaurant her parents told her to go to. She feels ridiculous for how dressed up she is. With a sigh she finds the sign and starts walking towards it. She informs the hostess that she’s there for a date and tells them the last name and is led to the table. He..doesn’t look like an ogre. His hair is black and he’s tall when he stands up and shakes hands with her. He reminds her a little of Kuroo with the way his hair is parted. 

“So, how did your parents get you here?”

“I volunteered. Was curious why your parents were so desperate to get you married off. You’re a pretty girl at least.” What’s that supposed to mean? She bites her tongue and takes a drink of the wine the waiter comes over and asks about food. Before she even gets a chance to respond he opens and orders for her. “The lady will have a salad.” It’s just one date. You don’t have to go on another date with this…she hesitates to say man. 

She eats quickly and pays as little attention to him as possible, only nodding in the correct places and smiling politely. “Two checks please,” she says when the waiter comes back over and her date is in the bathroom. She pays and leaves before he gets back. There’s a feeling of relief when she’s finally away from him. Her mother calls not shortly after. 

“How was the date?”

“Awful. I’m not going on a date with him again,” she spits the words out as she heads towards the train station.

“Oh, it can’t have been that bad. Did you even try?” She tries to hold back the words she can feel creeping up her throat but can’t seem to find it in her before they spill past her lips.

“Yes. I did try mother. I try on every single date you guys want me to go on. I sit there and try to make conversation. I smile and nod and act interested in whatever they’re saying. I pay for my own food and make sure it’s nothing too messy or bad smelling in case there’s kissing. I try. It’s you two. You need to stay out of my dating life, I can’t do this. I’m trying to work my way up in my company. I’m trying to do so much and that requires late nights and working on weekends and it requires you not butting into my dating life.” She feels bad as soon as she’s done with her rant. She’s sure there’s mascara running down her face at this point as she feels hot tears rolling down her cheeks and her throat tightening. “I didn’t–”

“If that’s how you feel, maybe we’ll butt out of your life for good.” The line goes silent after the distinct sound of someone hanging up plays over the speakers. She can’t find it in herself to move further and sits down on a nearby park bench. Her hands dial the first number she can think of. She realizes who she’s called as soon as the ringing stops.

“I’m so sorry, you’re still at work aren’t you.”

“I was just about to leave, what’s wrong? Have you been crying? Don’t move, I'll come to you, share your location with me.” She nods her head and shares the location with Kuroo. “Stay on the phone with me. Take some deep breaths. You don’t have to tell me what happened, just focus on breathing okay?”

Her breath hitches as more tears fall from her eyes. “I tried Tetsu…I really tried.” She sobs over the phone. 

“I know you did baby, I know. Take a deep breath for me.” She inhales. “Hold it…okay slowly blow it out.” She follows his words and sniffles as more tears quietly fall from her eyes. “Keep breathing just like that, I’m five minutes away.” She continues breathing and enjoys Kuroo’s calming presence even if it’s only over the phone. She doesn’t notice when she hears a car door close and dress shoes slap against pavement furiously before a jacket is wrapped around her and Kuroo is sitting in front of her. “Come on love, let’s get you home.”

“I don’t want to go home.”

“We can go to my house, let’s just get you off the street.”

“I don’t think I can move. I feel like my body shut down.” She can feel herself shiver but she mostly feels numb. A coldness has swept over her form. 

“Put your arms around my neck.” She listens and lays her head on his chest as he lifts her up after a moment of collecting himself. “Let’s get you home.” The tears have stopped but still leave a trail on her face and on her heart. The drive to Kuroo’s home goes by quickly, probably because he speeds through a few red lights on the way and goes a little faster than he normally does. He takes quick looks at her from his seat and notices how…broken she looks. He helps her out of the car and up the stairs to his apartment and when Mochi tries to jump on her he lightly pushes the puppy away until she’s laying on his bed. The puppy jumps into her lap while Kuroo is finding clothes for her to change into. “Mochi!” He scolds but she shakes her head and smiles when the puppy licks her face.

“It’s okay,” her voice breaks in the middle of the sentence as she pulls Mochi closer to her and closes her eyes. 

“You can’t go to sleep yet pretty, we have to get your makeup off and change your clothes.” He helps her into the bathroom and allows her to carry Mochi all the same. She sits on the toilet as he pulls makeup remover wipes from his medicine cabinet. “Before you ask, no. I haven’t found anyone. You’ve ended up at my house so often after one too many drinks that I bought some so I didn’t have to keep using a harsh towel and water.” He rolls his eyes and begins gently removing her makeup.

“Thank you for coming to my rescue. Like you always do.”

“No problem Cinderella.” 

“Cinderella?” She peeks an eye open to look at him before he gives her a look and she closes it again. 

“You left at midnight after you kissed me at the party last year.” It gets a small laugh out of her and really that’s all he cares about. “So, Cinderella.”

“Okay, but you’re so far from Prince Charming.”

“What? I’m not dashing and charming?”

“More like an annoyance and a nerd.”

“You wound me princess.”

“Keep it to yourself.” She sniffles again and he throws the wipe away as he finishes cleaning the product from her face. “...really. Thank you for saving me again Tetsu.”

“Anytime Cinderella, your carriage will always be here even after midnight.”

“You’re not a carriage.”

“Oh? Am I Prince Charming finally?”

“No. You’re just not….you’re not just a carriage to me.” She sounds so sincere when she says it that Kuroo has to take a pause and smile for a moment. 

“Here’s some clothes, I’ll be outside when you’re done changing.” He sets the clothes on her lap and takes the squirming Mochi from her arms and sets him on the floor after he leaves the room and closes the door behind him. It takes her fifteen minutes to change, needing a moment to collect herself before facing him again. She takes a look in the mirror and pokes at the puffiness that’s under her eyes. Kuroo is sitting on the bed with reading glasses on and a book open when she leaves the bathroom. 

“Scoot over.” She prods at him when she draws closer to the bed. He complies and moves over and lifts the blankets up for her. “I got into a fight with my parents,” she says as she turns off the light and faces away from him. She can hear him set down the book and his glasses and feel the blankets rustle as he reaches over to tap her shoulder. 

“Can we face each other when you talk about it?” She takes a deep breath and turns over. He turns the light on the other table on and lays down to face her. “What happened?”

“The stupid blind date,” he rests his hand on her arm and soothingly rubs up and down with his thumb. “It was so bad. He ordered a salad for me…I like salads but I think it was the way he looked at me when he did it that really made it hurt. And then my mom called right after it was done and told me I wasn’t trying. She basically said that it was my fault. And then, like an idiot I went off on her and she said she doesn’t want to be in my life anymore if that’s how I feel.” She lets out a breath when she finishes and can feel the tears stinging behind her eyes again. She tries to blink them away. 

“I’m sorry, you didn’t deserve that. You are trying. I know that, you know that.”

“I know, I just wish my mom knew that. Or believed it I guess? I just…I feel bad. Maybe I didn’t try hard enough.”

“Don’t say that, you tried plenty hard enough. It’s not your fault the dude was a total asshat. I’ll find his address and we can egg his house.” She lets out a laugh and Kuroo smiles and leans his forehead against hers. “There’s that laugh.”

“Stop it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re doing that thing you always do when I’m sad. You try to make me feel better by making me laugh and don’t let me feel sorry for myself.”

“Oh no! How dare I try and make you feel better when you’re sad.” He mocks in a lighthearted manner and flicks her forehead gently. “Get out of that beautiful mind of yours. You didn’t do anything wrong Y/N. Your parents will come around, you don’t have anything to apologize for.”

“That may not exactly be true.” He gives her a look. “I know, I’m just..I think both of us need to apologize or we won’t get anywhere.”

“I think you need some time apart before that happens, give it time for both of your feelings to calm down a little bit.” 

“Okay. This was nice, thank you for taking me to your house.”

“My home is your home.” You are my home. He almost says but manages to stop himself and instead tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and turns over to flick the light off. “Goodnight Y/N, we can try and make things better at a later date. For now, just get some rest.”

“Will you hold me?” The request is quiet and it’s almost lost amongst the rustling of the sheets and the sound of the fan spinning. 

“Of course.” She feels an arm wrap around her and she can feel tears well up again. It’s been so long since she’s been held this safely. It’s been so long since someone has held her like she’s precious. Like they don’t want to lose her. “You don’t have to dull yourself down for people to like you, I like you just the way you are…if it counts.”

“It does.” 

She avoids the problem of her parents, thumb hovering over the call button for weeks but never pressing it. Kuroo tries to get her to talk about it but isn’t able to get a word out of her so he drops it the second week in. When it’s been a few months of not talking to her parents she gives in after drinking with some of her friends. 

“Oh? So now you–” her mother answers.

“I’m so sorry. I don’t want you to butt out of my life. I need you, I’m sorry that I said those things to you.” She rushes out and stutters through the words. “I’m so sorry, I need my mom.” 

“It’s okay baby,” her mother hushes out. “I’m sorry. It’s okay. You’re doing your best.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t cry baby, we were pressuring you too much. It’s okay baby, don’t cry.” Her mother tries to soothe her over the phone. “We know you’re trying, I shouldn’t have gotten so mad at you, you’re doing a good job baby.”

“I’m sorry,” she says one final time as she wipes away her tears. “Can I have my mom back?”

“Oh baby, you didn’t lose me. I’m always going to be here. I’m always here if you need me.”

“I always need you.”

“Then I’ll always be here.” Her mom responds and it makes her cry harder. “Don’t cry baby, I’m here. Mom is here.” 

They stay on the phone with Y/N crying and her mother trying to soothe her cries. When her cries end her mom stays on the phone. They don’t say anything for a long time after that. “I’m sorry mom,” she finally breaks the silence.

“It’s okay, I’m sorry for being so harsh on you. No more blind dates.”

“No, it’s okay. I can do it.” She realizes she’s shaking now and clenches her hand into a fist as she tries to control her emotions. “It’s really okay mom, just give me a little bit and I can go on more dates.”

“If you’re sure.” When she gets off the phone with her mom the first person she calls is Kuroo. She’s still sniffling when he picks up the phone and she has to take a few moments to talk him down from his panic.

“Tetsu, I’m fine. I promise, I’m really okay. I just wanted to tell you I made up with my mom.”

“I’m glad you won’t be stressed over it anymore. Why don’t I take you to dinner to celebrate, count it as an early birthday dinner.”

“I would like that.”

“Still having your party in a few weeks?”

“Yeah…I think I am. I think I’ll be okay.”

The party goes well and the year wraps up with the (becoming) annual party at Kenma’s house. Kuroo doesn’t mention it when she leans in to kiss him again before pulling away and asking if they can go home. He doesn’t mention how she refers to his home instead of her own, or that she thinks of his home as her home too. The next year passes by in a haze of blind dates and numbness. The joy she feels comes when she spends time with her friends and Kuroo. Work becomes more boring than usual and the onslaught of blind dates set up by her parents keep coming. 

“You don’t have to keep going on those if you don’t want to.” Kuroo tells her as he zips her dress up. It’s her 29th birthday and she didn’t want to get ready alone this year. She’s dressed in a mid length pastel dress and Kuroo is in a tailored white suit with a shirt and tie matching the color on her dress. She tries not to picture if she’ll see him in a white suit again for their wedding. Tries not to think about the wedding, there’s still a year before it happens. He could find someone. She’s since given up on finding anyone who compares to him and silently hopes that he’s done the same. 

“I know, I said I would though.”

“Okay.” He knows he’s fighting a losing battle and pats her shoulder as she applies lipstick. He straightens his tie, a habit she’s noticed he does when he’s anxious or upset about something. He leaves the room before she can question him and she doesn’t see him for most of the night. She spots him in the corner talking up a blonde and internally cringes, some emotion must make its way onto her face since Kenma calls her out. 

“Is it because of that blonde?” Her head whips around to Kenma who fidgets with his hands, his gaming system gone and put away as it usually is at her birthday party. “Don’t think anything of it, they don’t stay for long.” They? “I know what you’re thinking, it’s nothing serious. He’s just buying time.” Buying time for what? She doesn’t get an answer as the aforementioned person walks over to them. Kenma takes it as his que to leave with a quick goodbye to Kuroo.

“Can I give you your gift now?”

“Of course.” He smiles brightly and gabs her hand, he pulls her away from the festivities and outside the bar. He reaches into his coat pocket and hands a packet to her before going back in and coming back with a small box. “Sorry, I didn’t have time to wrap it before I left.” The wood of the box is nice, a mahogany. It feels smooth and cool in her hand. There’s a metal lock on it plated with a goldish color; she's unsure if it’s from rust as the box looks older. 

She reads the front page of the small booklet she was handed; ‘29 things that remind me of you’. Oh. This is going to make her cry. She opens to the first page after handing the box back to Kuroo. He takes the luxury of flipping the lid open and showing her the contents of the box. “Strawberries,” she begins reading out loud. She picks up a strawberry pendant from the box after scanning it for a few seconds. “Strawberries remind me of you because the first time we met you had a bag of strawberries in your lunch and it stained your lips and hands red. If it weren’t for the strawberries you wouldn’t have asked me if I had a wet wipe and I never would have met you.” She feels tears well in her eyes as she continues reading through the list of things and seeing the corresponding objects. “Thank you Kuroo, this is…I have no words. You’ve made me speechless.”

“It’s nothing, really.”

“Just you wait for your birthday. I’m going to make you cry just you wait.”

“Planning on breaking my heart or something?”

“You know what I mean you absolute loser.”

“Whatever you say Cinderella.” The night comes to a close shortly after. She eats cake and wishes everyone a goodbye after touching up her makeup. She likes that her birthday is just an excuse to see all of her friends. That’s her favorite part, not the presents, but the people.

True to her word when Kuroo’s birthday rolls around she makes him cry with an equally sentimental gift. It’s not as extravagant as his was but it still warmed his heart and made tears fall from his eyes. After everyone else has left and it's just the two of them cleaning up after the party that’s when they’re most at peace. “I bought the ring.”

“So sure I’ll still be single?”

“Sure that me and you are endgame.”

“Better stop talking like that or I’ll think you’re in love with me.”

“Don’t be silly, it just makes the most sense for it to be me and you.”

“Alright loverboy.”

“Still not Prince Charming?”

“Not until I’m at the altar with you.”

“Now who’s getting ahead of themselves?”

“Oh shut up.” She hits him lightly with the trash bag she’s carrying. When Christmas rolls around she tells him that she’s cashing in on the deal early. “I don’t feel like going on another blind date. I think I’ve dated everyone that my parents can possibly find.”

“Don’t say that now. There’s always the next city over.”

“I’m done. We’re going to start fake dating now. It makes sense to do it this way anyways. If we’re fake dating when we get engaged it won’t look as odd.”

“Whatever you say Cinderella.”

“Damn right it is loverboy.” 

Not much changes when they start dating. Fake dating she reminds herself, it isn’t real and she shouldn’t expect it to be. They still eat their lunch together in his office and she still winds up at his house at least once a week, he still calls her pet names and she still calls him ‘loverboy’, their friends don’t seem surprised by the revelation. Everything…everything feels like it’s supposed to be like this. 

Kuroo proposes two months before her 30th birthday. It’s a small gathering with her parents and their closest friends. She can’t fake the pure joy she got at him getting down on one knee. At some point they had stopped posting every time they went out. There wasn’t a need to. Everyone knew they were dating, they didn’t have to prove it. At least not so obviously. Kuroo’s hand had found a favorite place on the small of her back or his arm was wrapped around her shoulders. She enjoyed holding his hand, enjoyed the difference between them and how warm his hands always were compared to her. 

Tears stream from her eyes as she jumps in excitement. She can’t stop herself from throwing her arms around his neck and pulling him up into a kiss. “I will marry you Kuroo Tetsuro. I will marry you on every planet and in every universe.” She hopes he thinks she’s just showing off in front of their friends and family and doesn’t think about the tears in his own eyes. How he squeezes her tighter and leans down to kiss her again. After the clapping stops he pulls away and she chases after his lips for a moment before blinking and composing herself. She needs to get used to short kisses. She won’t have this forever. This isn’t really hers. He slides the ring on her finger and she wonders for a moment if he’s thinking of her as she is or if he’s picturing some dream girl. 

Her mother tries to rush her into wedding planning but manages to keep it away for a month before her mother can’t take it anymore. She finds herself dragged from cake shop to cake shop, venue to venue, and Kuroo is with her through every moment of it. Like he’s always been. He’s always been there and she’s sure that he’ll continue to be there for her through everything. She selfishly hopes that it will be for the rest of their lives but can’t bring herself to say the words. 

“I’ve been thinking and I think we should move in together,” she says one morning as she sits at Kuroo’s kitchen island. She’s confiscated one of his t-shirts and he looks at her over his shoulder as he makes breakfast for the two of them. She sips on her coffee and hums lightly. 

“Oh yeah?” She can feel him about to tease her and sighs. 

“What now?”

“Oh nothing, nothing.”

“Kuroo Tetsuro.”

“Yes?” He smiles at her before turning back to the pan that’s sizzling on the stove. “It’s just, aren't you already moved in? Half of my closet space is cleared out for you and most of your clothes are here. We go to work almost every day together because you end up sleeping here most nights. Your makeup is in my bathroom and your favorite drinks are in my fridge. Your family photos are hanging up in my living room.” His explanation makes her pause. She hadn’t even realized that had happened, when exactly did his bed get new sheets on them? When did her clothes cover more than half of his closet?

“Well…when you put it like that. Okay but like officially. Let’s move in officially.”

“Whatever you want, Cinderella.” He places a plate of food in front of her and takes a drink of his own coffee as he eats some bacon from the plate between them. “We can do it today if you want, when’s your lease up?”

“Next month.”

“Okay, so we can start moving you out today and come next month everything will be all settled and you won’t have to do one big move. Well, I don’t think it’ll be that big to begin with. You've taken over most of my house anyway.” She scrunches up her face and punches him in the arm. He rubs at it in fake hurt and frowns. “How hurtful.”

“I didn’t hit you that hard you big baby.” She rolls her eyes and gets up to put her cup in the sink. Is this what life will be like for the next however long they keep up this ruse? Breakfast together and sleeping in his shirts? Quiet banter in the morning and soft talking at night. She chooses to ignore it. Reminding herself that it’s not real. She doesn’t get to have this forever. “Let’s get ready.”

As it gets closer to the end of the next month her apartment becomes less like home and more like a place she used to know. There’s a sadness that comes with moving, a sadness in leaving somewhere behind that you used to start and end your everyday life. “You okay? Gonna run away when it strikes midnight?” There’s a calming and grounding weight on her shoulder as Kuroo places his hand there. She can feel the warmth radiating from his body and to hers. She nods and lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

“It’s just an odd feeling. Moving.” Kuroo nods in understanding but doesn’t interrupt her. “I used to come here, this used to be home. A way to escape from the horrors of the world and now it’s just an empty apartment. It’s not home. Home is somewhere else now. I think I’m just too sentimental.” She shakes her head and crosses her arms over her body. 

“I like that you’re sentimental. You don’t have to feel guilty for enjoying having a home. You don’t have to feel guilty about leaving someone or something behind either, it’s okay to feel sad.”

“I’m not guilty. Why would I be guilty?” 

“Really? You’re not guilty? You feel like you’re abandoning a part of yourself that you’re not ready to leave yet. It’s safe in this apartment, my home is also safe but you won’t have this place to come back to. You’re leaving it behind when it’s been the place that’s kept you safe for years. Moving is scary.”

“Okay, so maybe I’m scared and feel guilty.”

“You don’t have to be, I’m going to be here with you even if you try to chase me off by trying to light me on fire or something.” She lets out a laugh at the extremes he went to for the example but knowing that he’s always going to be here relaxes her in a way she didn’t think was entirely possible. “Let’s go home.” And this time, she doesn’t have a crisis about what home means. Home means him. 

They’re in a familiar situation, Kuroo zipping up her dress while she applies her lipstick. There’s a ring on her finger this time, glinting in the light and serving as a reminder for what the world will think they mean to each other. His knuckles brush over the skin of her back and the touch leaves goosebumps in its wake. “You look stunning.” She can’t help the smile that creeps onto her face.

“Save it loverboy.” She makes eye contact with him in the mirror and watches as his hand drops from where it was previously holding the zipper. He pauses for a moment before reaching towards the straps of her dress and grabbing the long pieces of fabric. “You look nice too,” she hears his breath hitch as he ties the strips of fabric into a bow. With gentle and careful movements he brushes her hair to the side and leans down, she sees it before she feels his breath on her skin. A few moments later he presses his lips against her shoulder blade before pulling away and standing straight up.  

“You look very nice,” he says quietly as he exits the room. She can still feel the ghost of his touch as her eyes are still locked on to where he was mere seconds ago. It’s a knock on the door that breaks her from the spell she was under. She does a once over of her outfit and makeup before opening the door.

“I’m so proud of you,” her mother says and pulls her into a hug. “You found love, that’s all I wanted for you.” It feels like a participation award. Here’s a trophy for showing up and trying the thing. You didn’t win but no one else did either. Love is supposed to make you feel like you’ve won. She should feel like she’s won. She should be ecstatic. 

She got with a guy she’s been crushing on for almost a decade. Can crush be applicable in this situation anymore? Is it love? Does she love Kuroo Tetsuro? She wonders briefly how impossible it would be not to fall in love with him. His banter and quiet words, his hands on her shoulder and back, his calming presence when she’s nervous. He’s home, he’s love. To her he is the love that people write songs and stories about. 

“Have you picked a date for the wedding?” 

“What?” 

“Have you picked a date for the wedding? Or colors? You need to reserve a venue soon too!” Her mother continues rattling off all the things she does and she smiles and nods her head.

“We haven’t had time to really sit down yet. We’ll do it soon. I think we’re doing a spring wedding.” 

“Oh springs no good with my allergies.”

“It’s my wedding.”

“You don’t want your guests to be sniffling and sneezing when you’re trying to get photos.” 

“Can we talk about this later?” She tries to keep her composure and walks out of the room. She sees a familiar head of hair and smiles. 

“I remember when I first saw a photo of me looking at your father. I had the same lovestruck look that you have now. Do you love him?”

“Yes, I love him with everything I have and more,” she says without thinking. She can’t see the small smile her mother’s face before she makes her way over to her fiancé. “Tetsu.” Her hand wraps in his and she sees the initial jump he makes before relaxing.

“Hi Love,” he turns his head and kisses the crown on her head. She smiles and leans into his touch happily. She squeezes his hand and wonders why this still happens when they’re alone. Why he’s still so sweet. 

“He says love like it’s your name,” she hears the eye roll from Kenma and sticks her tongue out at him. “Happy birthday Y/N, see you for New Years.” Kenma walks away and she can see him exiting the building. 

“Happy Birthday, I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.” 

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” she bumps his hip with hers gently. 

Despite the complaints of her mother they hold the wedding in spring. The weather decides to be nice for the day, the flowers are in full bloom and there’s a gentle breeze that flows through her train and lifts it in the wind. There’s bright smiles on both of their faces and she swears she can see tears rolling down his face as she walks down the aisle towards him. 

“You look stunning. A breath of fresh air—“

“Okay Prince Charming. Let’s get on with it.” She jokes but grabs his hands. She wishes for this to last forever. Maybe for today it can. Today can last forever in her memories. “I Y/N L/N take you Tetsuro Kuroo to be my husband, to have and hold, through sickness and in health, for better or worse, for as long as we both shall live. With this ring I thee wed.” She slides the ring on his finger.

“I Tetsuro Kuroo take you Y/N L/N to be my loving wife, to have and to hold, through sickness and in health, for better or worse, for as long as we both shall live. With this ring I thee wed.” He slides the ring on her finger and looks towards the officiant.

“You nah now kiss the bride.” He wraps his arms around her waist and dips her lightly as he pulls her lips against his. It still feels as warm as the first time they kissed all those years ago on New Year’s Eve. It still feels like safety, it still feels like love. 

She finds herself ignoring her mother for the remainder of the day. Skipping over her table before Kuroo holds her hand and makes her say hi. After a quick once over it’s clear to see her mother isn’t pleased with the wedding and she doesn’t want to deal with it today of all days. With a look towards Kuroo he smiles and nods and walks away hand in hand with her. 

“And now it’s time for the father daughter dance.” The announcer says through the microphone. Y/N watches her father get up and make his way over to her. There’s a glint of love in his eyes and a wide smile on his face, she wraps her arms around his neck and lays her head on his chest.

“I couldn’t be more proud of you sweetheart. You look radiant.” She can feel the vibrations of his chest as they start slowly swaying from side to side. “If he doesn’t treat you write I’ll take care of it.”

“I know. You don’t have to worry about that. He’s pretty alright, I guess.” She jokes with her father.

“Pretty alright is okay I guess,” he shrugs although there’s wide smiles on both of their faces. He leans down and kisses her forehead when the song ends and makes his way back to his seat after handing her off to Kuroo. 

“And now for the couple’s first dance!”

There’s a spotlight that drops on them and it’s like the world disappears when Kuroo spins her. “Were you and your dad shit talking me?”

“Something like that,” she scrunches her face and attempts to spin him around like he spun her. 

“Are you ready to be stuck with me forever?”

“Till death do us part.”

“Nah, not even death can keep us apart. You should know that by now.”

“I think I’m okay with that.” 

When they cut the cake Kuroo takes a dollop of frosting and places it on her nose. When she gives him a look he reaches over with a napkin and gently wipes it off. She puts a swipe on his cheek with a small laugh. They cut cake for everyone without any more messes occurring and despite a few people getting drunk out of their minds (Bokuto, Atsumu, Komori, to name a few) the night went well. 

When they return to work a few weeks later she receives a promotion. They still find a way to have lunches in Kuroo’s office but he votes for moving them to her corner office. “Come on big shot! Let’s eat lunch with light streaming through the windows.” He leans against the doorframe as she sits at her desk and types away. 

“Using me for my natural lighting?”

“Yes,  now make room.” He sets the lunches in the table and slides hers across to her. “I can’t believe we were both gone and you managed to get a promotion.”

“And why is that so surprising?”

“It’s not. It’s just, I’m proud of you.”

“Mhm, smart choice.” 

Married life isn’t much different from engaged life. Her name didn’t change. The only difference in the last five years that’s been made is the ring on her finger and how much happier she’s become. She comes home with him every day and leaves with him every morning. She falls asleep in his arms and wakes up with him in hers. On weekends she wakes up to the smell of pancakes and bacon, one of the few things she found out Kuroo can cook. 

Their first year of being married draws closer to the end and she can’t help but wonder when the other shoe will drop. They’ve barely spent time together outside of eating lunch, although they still manage to do work during that time. She wanted to host a banquet with the volleyball pros and Kuroo is helping, there to offer his support like always. When they get home they’re so tired that they just curl up in bed after feeding Mochi. She misses him being a puppy, there’s something to be said. Poetic words about how time needs to change, someone else will come up with them. Her head pounds as she ends another phone call with a food vendor telling her it’s too late notice. 

“Why not ask Miyam?”

“Hm?”

“Osamu?”

“I forgot he was an option honestly. This week has gone by in such a haze that I just can’t wait for it to be over.” Kuroo nods in agreement and calls up the Onigiri owner.

“He agreed.” She breathes out a sigh of relief and slouches in her chair. “Let’s go home, it’s late already.” He helps her up and clicks her heels back into place as they head out of the building. 

Finally, everything she’s been waiting for. Her idea comes together. The music pulled through and Miya made a nice buffet, her decorations live out the vision. “Can I have this dance?” She nods and allowed Kuroo to whisk her away. 

“Is this?” The familiar tune fills the room around her and even with the chatter of the other occupants is still recognizable. 

“Yes. Yes, it is.” 

“You cheesy boy.”

“Guilty.”

Her head is against his chest and his arms are seated nicely around his waist. “I don’t want to be in a pretend marriage anymore.”

“I don’t think it’s been pretend for a long time.” He smiles and pulls her impossibly closer to him. “Everything I’ve felt and done has been real. I guess I just needed an excuse.”

“I guess I needed one too. I love you Tetsu.”

“And I love you Cinderella.” Despite the challenges ahead of them and ones they’ve faced in the past they fell in love. She doesn’t run away this time when they kiss at midnight, she stays with him and her carriage doesn’t turn back to a pumpkin and her dress doesn’t go back to rags. This time, she’s exactly where she needs to be. With the goofy boy she fell in love with and the silly girl he fell in love with. They’re home.

gen taglist (fill out this form to be added) @cheriisae @hatsukeii @hiraethwa

[low-budget-korra]

Let's talk about Caitlyn Kiramman from Arcane (again)

Tons to talk about her so, here we go

1. Is she privileged? Yes. Is she a bad person because of it? No.

In fact, from the beginning, Caitlyn always wanted to do what's right and that's the reason she became an enforcer(in her life experience until then, as Piltie, the enforcers were there to keep the peace and help the city and it's people). She wanted to help people and was one of the few Top Siders who viewed Zaun people as people and not monsters or trash.

2. Did she get blind by revenge and make some bad stuff? Yes.

But let's be fr, if my mom was murdered like that and by the same people I tried to help, I would do the same or even worse and probably so are you Caitlyn haters. And that's okay, we are emotional beings and rage truly is something that blinds people.

Not to be that person but half of Caitlyn's hate posts just scream "i never lost someone important in my life and I don't know how grief works" Cuz unfortunately I did and even tho it wasn't nowhere near the violent way Cassandra died, I still had to struggle with the anger phase. And I say this bc people act Caitlyn was just pulling a tantrum, overacting or smt

Sure, her pain ain't bigger than Jinx's or Vi's, but it's still hurts and the only true difference is that Cassandra had the privilege of an honorable funeral, while Felicia and many others from Zaun, didn't have. But don't be here all condescendingly try to disqualify Caitlyn pain just bc she is rich

Anyway, she was so blind by revenge that she released the toxic gas on Zaun, and it is said and shown that she only used to clean the streets before search operations and against the baroons. Still fucked up bc there's no way innocents weren't harmed but still, it ain't like she release the gas on everyone just for funzies as some people comments

Ambessa played her cards pretty well bc it's easier to do something like that if you dehumanize your enemy. And those Zaun thugs were dumb enough to fall for the Ambessa trap in the ceremony and the whole Zaun suffered because of that.

And if we can learn something from this is not to be too quick to violence bc you may be played and in the end, you and your people will suffer with the oppressors now ""justified"" actions. Yes, violence can help but we need to know how and when to use it.

3. Caitlyn is possibly the most complex and misunderstood character from season 2. Mostly bc even tho we had lots of micro expressions and subtext that explain her actions, there were things that maybe needed to be said. This would save the character from being so misunderstood

Like a scene with her saying something like "Vi...I'm sorry if I hurt you" and then Vi would respond like "if?" and then silence after. Could even be in that scene in act3 when Vi just wakes up from the coma. Idk, I know it sounds dumb but again, it would save the character from being misunderstood and hated over them

"But Caitlyn changing sides was too plot convenient and came outta nowhere". No? Lmao in fact you can see in her face how she regrets hitting on Vi and how she kinda of doesn't want to be there when Ambessa is making the speech in the end of act1

But then again, Ambessa plays her cards and calls out Caitlyn into a position where she simply can't say no. Remember that they were already thinking that someone from the Top may have helped the attack and Caitlyn was seen hanging around with a Zaun criminal and sister of the terrorist, if she refused what Ambessa was offering, people would assume she is a traitor and that could mean death to her.

Months go by and when we see act2 Caitlyn she is already more calm, her initial rage and wishes of vengeance kinda of ran out, and she is already realizing all the shit she did and disagreeing with Ambessa's ideas. In simple terms: She just wanted a way out.

Oh and let's not forget how Caitlyn was alone during all that. Her father was also grieving, Jace was gone, Mel was gone, Vi was gone...she was all alone and emotionally vulnerable, which makes it so much easier for Ambessa to manipulate her

So when she reunited with Vi and Vi called her Cupcake, it's like "wait, you not hate me after what I did to you?" moment , it was when she realized she wasn't alone anymore. And after hearing that Vi was helping her father, Caitlyn immediately wanted to help - maybe as a way of saying sorry, to redeem herself from the bad shit she did during those 6 months.

And when she got to see Jinx happily and chill, just hugging her dad...it was the moment she remembered Jinx wasn't a monster, that little moment is when she starts humanize Jinx and we can see in her eyes.

"then why did she arrest Jinx" Because Jinx surrendered and she had no choice, Jinx didn't kill just her mom. But she waits for Vi to wake up, to decide what to do and I bet while this happened, people were pressuring her to execute Jinx already or something.

That conversation she had with Jinx kind of seal the deal. Probably the first proper conversation they had and seeing Jinx so weak and vulnerable...it totally makes her destroy the image she previously had of her. There's no way back, she didn't forgive Jinx and I don't think she ever will, but she stopped hating her. Which is a start.

And knowing Vi would never allow Jinx to stay in jail, Caitlyn just say "fuck it" and let Vi release her sister. This was an act of love, especially bc Cait knew Vi could just run away with Jinx and she may never see her again.

"the CaitVi sex scene was unnecessary" I didn't see any of these when it was Jayce and Mel tho 🤷

It is both sad and funny how a huge part of the Caitlyn haters also loved and forgave Silco. This just proves that if a woman will be judged harder, a lesbian will be judged 2x more harder cuz the amount of lesbophobic comments I've seen...

[carnalhaus]

Not sure if you’ve ever mentioned this before, but I was wondering how Praline feels about her scars? You said she cut that Glasgow smile impulsively & for attention when she was 16, but now that time has passed, I wonder if it’s something she’s insecure about, or it’s just another thing she uses make others feel sympathetic toward her. Or does she just not care at all?

that is a good question, and i think before we examine that, we should think about how she views self harm in general, and we can use the context of the last piece i posted.

in reference to “wrists are for girls (do me in),” i mentioned in the tags that it’s from jude’s pov. a lot of people have mistaken it for sexual objectification, and it’s honestly intentionally meant to be misinterpreted that way, but in actuality, he’s looking at “inside parts.” parts that are easily hidden, usually used for self harm, easily accessible but easily concealable. there’s a contrast of those completely clean inside parts, and the big self inflicted scar on her face. indirectly, along with the title, it’s a sort of comment on how praline views and practices self harm. praline cannot harm herself in ways she views as “pussy-ish,” at least not consciously. she’s very extreme in her self destruction, and doesn’t allow herself to feel pain quietly, because she has a very black and white world view.

she turns her nose up at people who she views as not having enough conviction. she thinks if you really want to hurt yourself, then stop being a pussy and do it where it matters, because you want people to see anyway. similarly, she thinks if someone has to be killed, you kill them. this very black and white thinking pops up often in her philosophies and daily decisions, and is often used as a shield to comfort herself. obviously this thinking is very skewed and incorrect because she’s an extremely unstable and cruel individual, but i feel like i shouldn’t have to explicitly say that lol.

but onto her feelings on the scar itself, i think it’s a little complicated. she likes that it makes people look at her, give her attention, and ask questions. sometimes she tells the truth, because she can be very brutally honest and talk about her traumatic experiences as if they’re nothing, or when she’s extra bored she might make up a big story about a horrible accident. simultaneously, i think she also hates that it’s not enough to turn people away from her. in general, praline inwardly feels very smothered by her natural appearance. to a degree, the scar on her face was her way of permanently controlling her appearance so people would look at something else. or, on the other hand, that people could look past her appearance altogether. it’s a much deeper complex for her where she constantly seeks attention and will act out without it, while often feeling disgusting and angry once she receives it. she doesn’t understand herself, and she doesn’t want to examine it. praline has a lot of complex and conflicting thoughts that might seem to clash at times, but that’s because humans are inherently contradictory things.

she does cover it up with makeup sometimes, but i think it’s less of being ashamed of it and more of convenience and mild annoyance. sometimes it doesn’t match her outfit. if anything else, she covers it because she often thinks it’s useless in deterring people anyway.

[oliversrarebooks]

The Rare Bookseller Part 79: Oliver's Questions

tw: mind control

Previous > Masterlist

October 1925

A knock on the door startled him out of his thoughts. "Oliver? May I come in?" It sounded like Emily.

"Sure," he said, not especially in the mood for talking, but wanting to be out of his own head for a moment.

He heard the click of the door unlocking, and Emily pocketed the key as she walked into the room. "Vivian thought maybe it'd be a good idea for me to check on you. How are you doing?"

"I'm managing."

"Have you heard your master -- your former master's voice?"

"No. But I will tell you if I do." The least he could do for Emily and Vivian was to try to resist and let them know right away. Purposefully betraying them after they'd gone through this effort to save him was unthinkable.

"I think I might understand a little about how you feel, you know. Defending Alexander even though he's a monster."

"You do?"

"I mean, Jessica was awful through and through. She robbed me of everything and treated me like a housecat. I'm glad that she's dead. But still, sometimes… I think a part of me misses the certainty." She curled in on herself a bit. "I don't know what I'm going to do now that I'm freed. It's back to nasty jobs that pay peanuts, while trying to find time and energy to make art good enough to sell, I suppose. Struggling every day. I guess it was nice not to struggle for a while, even if it was a terrible situation."

"Yeah," said Oliver. "I understand. I wasn't struggling like you before the vampires, but it still was nice to feel like I had a purpose, even if it was feeding a vampire."

"I think if Jessica had been just a little bit nicer to me, the way Alexander was to you, I would feel a lot more conflicted," she said. "But you know that he didn't really care about you, right? I don't think monsters like that can feel real feelings."

"…Yeah." Even if she were right, it was a bitter pill for him to swallow.

"If Alexander really cared about you, he wouldn't have put you through all of that with his sire. He would have protected you, or stood up to him, or hidden you away, or something. Instead, he told you that he'd never let you free. That's what you said, wasn't it?"

"It is."

She must be right. It wasn't as though Oliver hadn't had that same thought, even while enthralled. His show of being caring was always a convenient lie to keep Oliver happy and docile.

But then, he thought of how tenderly Alexander had cared for him after he was blinded, how he reassured Oliver and soothed him to sleep with his song. He thought of Alexander by his bedside when he was sick, feeding him warm soup and wiping his forehead with a cool washcloth. Small comforts, perhaps, but more than Oliver had before.

"I suppose… a part of me wishes he did actually care about me, and that's why I don't want Vivian to kill him."

"…I get it," said Emily quietly. "I'm sorry I was so harsh on you earlier, but honestly, I do understand. I once had a lover… it's a shameful story, but I guess you've seen me in the lap of a vampire, so it's not like I have any dignity left. I once had a lover who showered me with gifts and affection, and made me feel like I was someone special -- when he was sober and in a good mood. When he wasn't, he was a nightmare. You can probably imagine it. And it took me such a long time to understand that if he truly loved me, he wouldn't treat me that way, not ever. Even when I did, it took me even longer to leave, because I wished he would be someone different, someone who actually cared."

"I'm sorry that happened to you."

"Don't be. Lesson learned."

"You shouldn't have had to go through that to learn a lesson," said Oliver. "But I do understand what you mean. I'm not sure if it's quite the same since Alexander certainly wasn't my lover, just…"

What was Alexander to him, exactly? His friend? His master? Neither of those could really captured the unwavering devotion, the powerful draw he'd felt.

The draw he was feeling even now, knowing how manufactured it was.

Tears sprang to Oliver's eyes as he was overcome by a wave of deep sadness, and although he'd been sad all night, this felt both foreign and strangely familiar, feelings that weren't his own, a sense of loss and melancholy and grief coming from far away, tethering him to…

"Oliver, what is it? You've gone so pale."

"Alexander. I can feel him. I think he's calling to me."

"Oh, no -- I'll go get Vivian right now." Emily rushed from the room.

It wasn't like a song, now. It was comprised of images, emotions. The library, cold and dark, Alexander weeping and calling him back. Oliver tried to push it away -- nothing more than a jailer upset that his inmate escaped. But he couldn't truly believe that, not with Alexander's own emotions clouding his mind.

"Go away," Oliver whispered to the empty room. "Leave me alone. Stop tormenting me with this."

"Emily said you've heard your former master?" Vivian was standing over him with furrowed brow.

"Yes, I'm sure of it. I can feel what he's feeling. It's almost unbearable."

"That's the blood connection." She looked out of the window, where the sky was growing lighter. "The sun will be up soon. If you can endure it until then, the vampire's power will fade when the sun rises. Do you think you could do that?"

"I think so." He didn't seem to really have a choice, not unless he wanted to betray Vivian and go running back to the manor.

"It'd be best if you could stay up for most of the day, to start to get used to a human schedule again. I can find ways to keep you busy and take your mind off things. And then when night comes around, I could give you something to make you sleep, so that you don't have to endure vampires intruding on your mind. How does that sound?"

Oliver nodded. "I don't think I've ever really thanked you for your help. You don't need to do all of this for me."

"It's my job," she said. "Besides, no one else has ever provided me such a treasure trove of information about my sworn enemy. It's been well worth it."

Oliver anxiously watched the sky outside his window, feeling as though the sunrise might never come, as though the vampire's power might endure forever. But of course the sun rose once again, and as Vivian predicted, Alexander's feelings faded away as the sun crested over the buildings.

He was exhausted, but found a second wind of energy helping Jenny prepare breakfast and eating a sizable portion of it himself, along with ample coffee. Emily overslept and dragged herself down the stairs just as they were about to clean up from the meal, pouring and chugging what coffee remained.

After breakfast, Vivian assigned Emily and Jenny chores, in particular taking care of Bobby, an erased thrall unable to care for himself. Oliver was reminded once more of all of the grievous harm of the auction house, even if he himself had escaped the worst treatment. Lily had done those things, and Alexander was more than complicit.

"What would you like me to do, Vivian?" he asked, more than eager for some work to quiet his mind.

"I was hoping you could accompany me to the grocer's and the butcher's, to restock the pantry. It would help to have an extra set of arms to carry back the food."

Oliver looked at Vivian's arms, recalling her struggle with Alexander. She was clearly far stronger than Oliver, and he suspected that needing someone to carry bags was an excuse to make Oliver feel helpful. Regardless, he thought that the fresh air would do him good. "I'd be happy to help."

"Great! Here, there's some spare coats in the closet. See if one fits you."

Soon enough, Oliver was out the door, blinking in the midday sun. He'd had so little sun, especially since he'd been sleeping in Alexander's room instead of his own. People were bustling about on the sidewalk, a mailman was making his way down the street, and all of the shops were open. The leaves were beginning to fall from the trees, but the foliage that was left was drenched in reds and golds. Oliver realized that he hadn't actually been outside during the day since his capture.

"You must have missed this," said Vivian as they walked to the grocery store. "Ordinary human life, I mean."

"I guess I did." In the light of day, it was a lot easier to put the world of vampires behind him as though it were all a bad dream. Under Alexander's spell, he didn't realize how much he had missed being able to simply walk down the street to a shop on a crisp fall day. He thought of sitting in the park among the autumn trees, reading a book and watching the people walk by, as he had liked to do on breaks. How much had the vampires stolen from his mind, to make him forget all of this, to make him content without it!

Even the ordinary grocer's was a delight. He'd always had plenty of food in the manor, and Alexander had bought him whatever he put down on a list, but there was a simple pleasure in looking over the grocer's wares and choosing it all himself. Vivian was mulling over whatever was cheapest or on sale to feed herself and the thralls back in the safehouse, and Oliver trailed along, carrying her purchases and making suggestions.

In the harsh light of day, with a clearer head, it was easier to see the vampires for what they were -- monsters who had stolen his life from him.

And yet, there was still a nagging part of him who felt like he didn't quite belong here, not any more. Not now that he knew that vampires and their establishments were all over the city. Not when he'd been getting so used to being on Alexander's arm, serving him and accompanying him.

He'd been the perfect thrall, supposedly, and although Alexander could have just been saying that to keep Oliver mollified, Oliver really couldn't deny how comfortable he'd felt in the role. Even as he was enjoying a sunny afternoon in the city, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was just playacting as a normal person. Alexander had convinced him so swiftly and so thoroughly that he belonged as a thrall that Oliver feared he might never be able to shake it.

But didn't that mean Vivian was right? Oliver would never be safe as long as Alexander and his sire were out there, beckoning him to return. And even if Oliver himself managed to escape, Alexander would only take some other poor soul and turn him into his slave. Leaving him alive would only be condemning person after person to be ripped away from the world of humans and trapped in the dangerous world of vampires.

The thought of Alexander taking someone else as his thrall made him sick.

If Alexander really was going to spend decades or centuries taking human after human, it would be wrong to leave him alive, wouldn't it? As much as that made rational sense, he couldn't accept it.

"Penny for your thoughts?" she said as they carried the groceries home.

"I was thinking about what you said before -- about how you need to kill Alexander. I confess that I still don't like it, not at all, but maybe… maybe it is the right thing to do." His heart ached from betrayal even as he said it, unable to convince himself.

"Thank you. I know it must be a hard thing for you to consider," she said. "I do understand your reluctance, at least a little bit. I did see you in your gilded cage. I saw that he treated you decently."

"He did." Oliver couldn't help but be mortified at the next question he wanted to ask, but he knew he needed to ask it anyway -- the question he'd been turning over and over in his mind since the ritual. "Vivian, you know a lot about vampires, right?"

"I'm not the world's foremost expert or anything, but I like to think I do, or else I'd be dead by now."

"Do you think it's possible -- god, this must sound ridiculous to you. But do you think it's possible for a vampire to care about a person? Not just for their blood, or as a servant, but actually care for them as a friend?"

"No," said Vivian immediately. "Maybe that's not what you want to hear, but no, they can't."

"I thought that's what you'd say."

"I've seen a lot of vampires in my time. Some of them treat their thralls well, like Alexander. Some of them beat their thralls, or chain them to the wall, or erase their minds to make them as helpless as a baby. Some of them don't keep thralls at all, but prey on people they find on the street, or in their places of business. The circumstances are always different, but there's one thing every vampire has in common -- they all prey on innocent people. No matter how gentle a vampire may seem, they still desire human blood above all else, and are driven to keep humans as their possessions."

"I see."

"You were a very prized possession of your master, I don't doubt that. He did value you. But if your happiness were actually his concern, he wouldn't have taken you from your bookshop. He wouldn't have had to hypnotize you into believing you were happy if he could actually make you happy. Don't you think so?"

"I suppose so," said Oliver. "I think you're probably right. It just hurts to realize. I guess a part of me…"

"A part of you what?"

"Never mind." He didn't actually know Vivian that well, and couldn't bring himself to say it, how a part of him wished that someone else in the world actually did care about him. "I suppose I'm also apprehensive, because if I'm to be free of Alexander, what should I do with my life now? That must sound terribly pathetic."

"No, it doesn't. Most thralls aren't sure what to do with themselves once they're freed, especially if they've been enthralled for years, or if they've been under a very deep spell, like you were."

"What do they end up doing?"

"Some of them return to whatever they were doing before they were taken, of course. But for a lot of them, that's not really possible. Being a thrall seems to change them in ways I don't even fully understand. And for those who have spent years or even decades in a vampire's service, the ordinary world of daylight is as foreign as the surface of the moon," she said. "Some of them are so lost that they end up in a madhouse or prison, or worse, find themselves a new vampire master. I can't say hunters look too kindly on thralls who are rescued, only to sell themselves back to the god damned auction house."

"I won't do that," said Oliver, wishing he actually felt as confident as he was trying to sound.

"Good. If you have the stomach for it, and are interested, sometimes former thralls become part of the hunter's guild. You see, one of the things that makes it difficult for thralls to return to their lives is the fact that no one believes them or understands the experience they went through. In the guild, you'd be surrounded by people who know all about vampires and other supernatural creatures."

"Oh, I don't think I could do that. I've never been the slightest bit athletic. I could never fight a vampire, even a weak one."

"You wouldn't have to fight. The hunters get the glory and the spoils, but there's a lot of other work to be done. If you have an education, they could use people capable of doing research."

"Research, hm…" Oliver couldn't deny that that might be a good fit for him, with his expertise in rare and unusual books. He wondered what sort of rare and interesting books the hunter's guild might hold. "Vivian, if you kill Alexander, what would happen to his library?"

"When a vampire is killed, it's customary to split the spoils among the hunter who killed it, the guild in general, and any thralls left behind. We'd each be entitled to a portion of what Alexander owns."

"I see." Even if he could accept that Alexander must die, it felt absolutely ghoulish to talk about splitting up his possessions. "If you were to kill him… do you think you could make sure that his library ends up in good hands? There's an absolute treasure trove of rare information there, one that would take multiple human lifetimes to recreate."

"Of course! I think you'd be uniquely qualified to catalog it. The guild would want their share, but they would be glad to accept an expert's opinion. And I'm only interested in money and things that are easy to sell. I'm not the reading type."

"Maybe… maybe that's something I could do, then." Something to distract from the guilt he felt pre-emptively, both for betraying his vampire master and for being one of the thralls lucky enough to be rescued when he wasn't even sure that he wanted it.

Previous > Masterlist

Thanks for reading! Next week, Vivian and Oliver both lose their patience.

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[pensbridge]

Sometimes I see too many stupid takes that I think it's sad that people misunderstand Colin and Penelope so much...

that they still think Colin would cheat even with deleted scene proof showing it was always exactly the opposite..

that they think Penelope would ask for an annulment for her own benefit as if this girl has not shown time and time again that she cares about Colin's happiness and would put her own + security up in the air..

that Colin is his own character and outside of the Penelope romance arc he has his own journey that you, a real person, need not be insecure about when the fictional character (Penelope) is not at all..

that Colin not sleeping with Penelope on the night of their wedding is not a direct reflection of him being mad at her that he is "punishing" her, but that it is a direct reflection of who he is as a character that could not bring himself to indulge in his truest desires as he's been shutting her out (and that's better than having a passionate night and leaving her alone emotionally after the fact until he can get his mind to catch up with his heart)..

that Penelope and Colin are in love and nearly every critique someone brings up circles back to a misunderstanding of this story and the entire narrative of how they choose each other..

that they are not bad people, but people working overtime to hate on the 2 individuals conveniently have nothing to criticize when you could make a claim for each and every character. how Anthony is a rake who chose to lead along a young woman, who just so happened to be his future wife's sister, all the way to the altar & pivoted away from his wife after a moment to propose to, said, sister in public, causing potential issues of shame at a later date to deal with. how Eloise can be selfish and tunnel-visioned. and how Kate was dishonest, like Lady Whistledown, (except) to her own sister, hiding her personal feelings as she was to be stuck in a marriage where her husband never wanted her.

...so sad that they are still talking about matters that have been confirmed and debunked time and time again...and then I see the unexpected bright side: that polin is so popular that they can't keep their name out of their mouth and are so mad they are still fighting about things that made those of us who understood where this story was going for monthsss happy, and that plots they find time to whine about will inevitably never be changed. Yay for us!

[tumbleweed-run]

My kid got into Torchwood so we’re watching the introduction of Jack (The Empty Child - The Parting of Ways) and the creation of Torchwood (Tooth and Claw) in order to make more sense.

And honestly during Boom Town all I could think of is how pissed off Ianto would be while he’s in London hearing about the plans to demolish Cardiff Castle.

He’d absolutely be losing his shit over it trying to figure out how to nuke the Mayor himself and then be like “wow suspiciously convenient” when she mysteriously disappeared.

[bladekindeyewear]

What do you think of AH's commentary in Book 6 page 306?

Oh? Let me go look it up and quote it from the collection of book commentary… ah, I bet you're talking about the classpect stuff he references there, since you're asking me!

At the end of the day, Vriska did 90% of the talking, while John intermittently offered a few remarks such as "wow" and "geez" and "huh" and "golly, that's a lot of murders..." But then, that's why John is such a perfect friend. And an even perfecter friend for Vriska, who really just wants a boy-foil functioning as the ultimate enabler and sounding board for her apologist "multicultural" navel gazing and self-absorbed rationalization narratives. He is the Heir of Breath after all. It's a passive class, and he's a passive guy. An heir, literally speaking, is one who inherits stuff. Let's infer this to mean, for the sake of this particular note, someone who "inherits" by making room for something to fill, such as wind. He certainly provides that service for a whole lot of hot air when it comes to Vriska.

I’m not sure we needed further confirmation that the Heir is a passive class, I’m pretty sure we received that at SOME point before, but I think he’s giving voice here to a pretty self-evident feature of Heirs (inheriting) that I have spoken about before, but I don’t think sums up the class’s impact on reality in its entirety with JUST the “inherit” keyword— which would be in part why Andrew put so many careful weasel-words around it like “for the sake of this particular note”, etc etc.

Passive classes, by and large, often seem to be describable via the phrasing “one who invites X of or through their aspect, or is invited TO X of or through their aspect”. The former half explicit from Calliope, the latter half we have observed from the behavior of other confirmed passives like the Bard of Rage and how easily he is "invited" to destruction of and through Rage, et cetera. Following that pattern, the way I’ve always described the Heir class as the passive Control/Change class is “one who invites control/change in/through their aspect or is INVITED TO change of/through their aspect”. Easily thought of as “a nexus through whom (aspect) changes and is controlled”. As an Heir of Breath, the aspect of freedom, direction, and purpose, John is therefore extremely liable to be invited to change direction, to take on any quest or cause or purpose given to him by anyone who talks to him. And to change as a person due to it, too! It’s easy to see this as an Heir “inheriting” their aspect from others, certainly; I even went into it as recently as the Heir of Hope example in my Murder Drones classpecting post.

However, hero roles are meant to explain how one best AFFECTS reality around them, and focusing solely on the self is never going to tell a complete story. The Heir must have an effect on others too— and in John’s case, as I showed in the Breath and Blood post, John often serves as a vehicle to invite others to change direction too and take control of their purpose, not just to be invited himself. That’s the biggest bit of nuance lost by seeing Heirs as purely “inheritors” instead of using the keyword as a convenient lens that only shows some of the picture. Feel free to disagree with me, but I believe the Breath and Blood post has a massive preponderance of examples -- of how amazingly John Egbert affects the lives of everyone he speaks with -- to justify my hypothesis.

[homestuckreplay]

New Favorite Homestuck Page Dropped????

(page 1073 – ‘[S] Jade: Pester John.’)

First of all: This page is everything to me. It is a spiritual successor to my (previous?) favorite page, ‘WV: Ascend’, in the way it explains and ties together a lot of disparate things such that a bunch of individual events suddenly become one coherent story. Also, the closest we’ve gotten to two of the kids meeting in person!

I love that this flash lets us enjoy how breathtaking Prospit and Skaia are at the beginning, before kicking the plot into gear. Some other aesthetic moments really stand out, too. The transition from Rose’s house (on fire) to Rose’s house (covered in snow), the moment that Jade’s Prospit tower and her Earth tower are superimposed to look like one structure, the golden light filtering through Jade’s dream window turning to blue, and the moment that Jade’s island meteor leaves the bounds of the cloud-vision, becoming a cloud itself as it descends onto Prospit, are all stunning. And every flickering back and forth between waking and dreaming Jades or worlds is a reminder of how interconnected these worlds are, multiple characters crossing this boundary in both directions.

Here, we get an explanation of how Jade’s powers work. As I understand it, when an eclipse happens on Prospit, its moon (and by extension Jade’s tower) passes in front of Skaia. When this happens, she sees visions through portals in Skaia’s clouds that could be from any time in Earth’s (or the universe’s?) past or future. It’s possible for these visions to physically impact Prospit, which is why it’s dangerous for Jade to be outside during the eclipse. Jade can see visions while awake through Bec (p.980), as Bec is originally from Skaia.

Jade is doing the equivalent of lucid dreaming, able to consciously impact the world on Prospit, but only able to impact Earth via her dreambot. John sees some visions, but only as shapes made out of Skaia’s clouds, not through the cloud portals. Jade can also see the shapes made out of clouds, but these are secondary. John’s seeing the clouds could be because simply because his dreaming self lives on Prospit, or specifically because he’s outdoors/sleepwalking on Prospit, or because he’s sleeping within the Incipisphere – it’s uncertain.

John’s visions, importantly, ARE still accurate predictions. This flash incorporates ‘[S] John: Wake up.’ (p.651), in which John sees his dad, a cake, Gushers, a harlequin, the green slime ghost, and Harry Anderson. Almost all of these tie into the mental breakdowns John later has in his dad’s room (p.948, 979) and subsequent experiments with alchemy. So if John can wake up, and now that he’s had this realization about the harlequin graffiti in the waking world he seems like he’s ready to see it in dreams too, he’ll have access to the same powers as Jade. Given that John is often presented as the most clueless character, that would be a really interesting shift.

Speaking of John waking up! The John-Jade pesterlogs from page 169 and 293 are appended to this page, with links for convenience (the first time a pesterlog has appeared beneath a major [S] page). We now know that these happen while Jade is asleep. The only other April 13, 2009 pesterlog between these two is on page 652, immediately after this page, and that conversation makes PERFECT sense now. Jade knows about Nannasprite because one of her cloud-portals showed John’s current adventure, Jade was ‘confused’ about the meteor near her house because it 'landed' on Prospit (and far-past Earth), not current Earth, and John needs to ‘wake up’ so that he can see Jade’s visions too, and they can discuss them with equal knowledge. Jade’s a little frustrated in that conversation, because she knows John was so close to waking up, but now she’s not sure when it’ll actually happen.

The meteor impact as seen on Prospit in this flash is I think identical to the meteor impact on Earth years in the past (p.757) – but we know it’s Prospit, because Jade’s golden tower is there in this version. It appears that Bec was within the Skaian meteor that impacted Prospit, and rose unharmed from the lava pool in the most badass possible way. It’s uncertain whether there are two Becs – one on Prospit and one on Earth – or if he just teleports between them at will. I wondered for a moment if Bec being pure white was a link to the white of Prospit citizens, but that would have implications for all the kids and guardians that I don’t think are true, so I think that’s coincidence.

The simple white spirograph Bec is guarding (on Prospit) is the same that appears at the end of ‘WV: Ascend’, another link between these flashes. It looks like a video game powerup – something hovering in the air that Jade could jump and pass through, and she’d get a success sound and glow for a moment. Bec is stopping Jade from taking this (on Prospit), and from entering the frog statue (on Earth), and I don’t know what his intentions are – trying to protect Jade from danger, trying to keep Jade from something that might help her, or just following orders as an agent of Skaia without thinking? Jade has already had one Strife with Bec to retrieve something he’s guarding – will she get a second, perhaps more dangerous one? What exactly is the white spirograph, and what is hidden inside the frog temple? Is what’s inside the frog temple still there 413 years in the future, now guarded by the Aimless Renegade instead of Bec?

Bec guarding the frog statue from robo-Jade is – I think – one of only two new glimpses of Earth in this flash. The other is Dave’s house, fading from its current fiery sky to a dreary gray day, mirroring Rose’s house fading from ‘on fire’ to its snowy flashback from page 441. I hope this means we’ll see a flashback to Dave’s birthday soon too. Also worth mentioning again is Dave’s ‘sometimes i dream that [Lil Cal is] real and hes talking to me and i wake up in a cold sweat and basically flip the fuck out’ (p.419). John has a malevolent imp entity in his room that clearly affects him while asleep and awake (p.1049) so if there’s a dreaming Dave somewhere in the incipisphere, is it possible he has a Cal equivalent? In fact, could a dreaming Rose have a wizard equivalent? Is Jade able to wake up within her dreams and see visions because she’s the only one who doesn’t have an unpleasant entity haunting her room? Is this because of Bec’s protection?

Also, if we are getting a Dave flashback, that means that Jade’s visions can be in the future or past of her linear time, AND in the future or past of the narrative, which is fun for an already fourth wall breaking character. It got me thinking about the two glimpses of Jade we got in Act 2, and about how one was a narrative psycheout given to us by the author (p.665), and the other was an in-universe psycheout for John himself, almost seeing Jade for the first time in person but waking up before it can happen. I am imagining Jade climbing in and out of the narrative like it is her own personal set of monkey bars and that’s a fun image to me.

I was doing some wild theorizing about waking vs dreaming Jade during my fourth or fifth watch on this, and I even considered that John is the only friend Jade’s able to communicate with while dreaming, seeing the others as people within her visions but not realizing they’re her friends. But I think Dave’s monologue to Jade disproves this, his ‘do you even know if you are [asleep]’ suggesting he’s talked to dream Jade before. So theory discarded, but I really want to figure out the difference between Jade’s waking voice and dreaming voice, such that it’s possible to place any Jade pesterlog as waking or dreaming. Here’s what we know about all ten of her existing pesterlogs.

Page 110 (John) – Confirmed to be waking Jade (p.827).

Page 169 (John) – Confirmed to be dreaming Jade (p.1073).

Page 293 (John) – Confirmed to be dreaming Jade (p.1073).

Page 382 (Dave) – Confirmed to be waking Jade (p. 835).

Page 442 (Rose) – Unknown. I believe this is waking Jade, as she has just mailed a package which is known to be on Earth. Jade seems to speak more concretely while waking and more vaguely while dreaming; I believe she is giving information from a recent dream.

Page 652 (John) – Strongly implied to be waking Jade due to their simultaneous awakening (p.1073).

Page 829 (Dave) – Jade is out of her room and exploring, no clues towards waking/dreaming state.

Page 838 (Rose) – Seen from waking Jade’s perspective.

Page 859 (CG) – Seen from waking Jade’s perspective.

Page 1000 (John) – Unknown. I believe this is waking Jade, as she says she’s ‘never had any sort of feeling’ about the trolls, suggesting that she’s not aware of them in her dreams.

> Jade: Continue to blink and shake head in perfect unison with John.

[batbabydamian]

so, Batman #147… rambling about the difference in how Zdarsky portrays the two current Robins

this is a fantastic run for Tim, and very much written like a return to form of what plenty consider the best dynamic duo, but even more so "the best Robin". once Damian's introduced in this run, Zdarsky really makes sure you still know that lol

1. "We don't need anyone else" VS "I need my family"

#147 clearly exemplifies the contrast, so i'll go through it first. Damian, having fallen for Zurr's lie and accepted him as the real Bruce, goes so far as to say in the very first page "We don't need anyone else." it's cold colors, machinery, and hollow declarations of "father and son" for these two.

towards the ending, Tim has deduced where the real Bruce is hiding and brings him food expecting Bruce's knack for self-neglect. it's all warmth, sunshine, and mutual understanding - also a cute back and forth of "Batman and Robin" between them. on top of this, where Damian isolates Batman & Robin from family, Tim is the one to remind Bruce about "helping each other." Bruce heartily agrees with "I need my family" for a weighty end.

along with this parallel, from #138 Tim makes it clear that even in opposition, he's only ever trying to help Bruce. Damian was still on the wrong side with Zurr-induced-Bruce here at the time too 😭

2. Tim's independence as both a hero and partner

Tim is written as the ideal Robin to Bruce's Batman, and has made Robin its own independent hero on equal footing rather than a sidekick - it's made in statements by both Tim and Bruce, and through the entire narrative. he takes initiative and tries to foresee what would ultimately help Bruce. beyond being great partners, there's many bits showing their emotional connection ("i'm scared of being lost, but i'm more scared of losing you, Bruce" hit me like a bag of bricks). tbh this almost could be a Batman and Robin run lol

added the first panel from #126 of Tim declaring he's his own hero outside of Bruce, proven plenty especially in his backups in #131-134!! the other panels are a few highlights from #128, #130, and #135 of the partnership between Tim and Bruce

granted it's Zurr, but Damian is mostly seen following orders and given pensive looking panels when there's something concerning. While Tim continued to represent Batman's ideals during his own solo quest to find Bruce, Damian doesn't question or take action against "Bruce's" sudden shift in ethics

Batman #134 Backup - Tim showing support toward Toyman VS Batman #146 - Zurr and Damian confront Harley as she pleads about her change of heart

another kiinda parallel in #147 is Bruce acknowledging Tim's hard work to become Robin compared to Damian who's out here going Batman and Robin/Father and Son. i don't think it's an intended parallel but just the state of continuing to show Tim in a better light - Tim put in the effort "to become the second-best Robin" while Damian is Robin because..."son." supposedly less effort on his part too, because LOA.

second pic is from Batman/Catwoman The Gotham War: Scorched Earth, felt fitting to add since Tim mentions needing to "know everything" in both. and the humble brag. which ofc Tim believes Dick is the best!! but also. jic we didn't know Tim is the best current Robin sdfgh

3. Damian's blind loyalty as "Bruce's son"

there's a weight to the Robin title when regarding Tim, whereas Damian's "Robin" role is excess and counterintuitive. he's delegated to desperate sidekick to Bruce, as well as becoming an obstacle to the family. being Robin only seems significant to Damian in how it ties himself to his father, and his single Robin quality is a loyalty that's been written to an extreme fault. the only positive angle i could see this in is Zdarsky aiming to put Damian in a sympathetic light in how far Damian was willing to fall to stay by his father's side, hence, fooled by that nightmare story/confession. the problem with this is that we have not seen a single emotional connection between the two in this run, so why should we care about that relationship.

also, Damian constantly bringing up his position as Bruce's son just makes him look entitled? since Bruce rightfully expressed his claim of having the others as his sons too (with the unfortunate exclusion of his daughter)! so it's like a "lol you're not that special" vibe when looking at it from the outside?? ykw concerning #138, Damian saying "You're the one trying to destroy my father" also could have been in contrast to Tim saying "We'll help our dad" at the end.

Zdarsky seems to believe the only meaningful part of Damian being Robin is he's the son of Bruce, and not a single nod to any noble aspect Damian's achieved beyond that. we're constantly reminded of Tim's greatest hits as Robin, from taking on the mantle to pull Bruce out of darkness (#135, #138), mastermind a whole takedown (Gotham War: Scorched Earth), and always being on the same wavelength with Bruce etc. the entire run sings Tim's praise, and it's deserved!! my problem is how it's in stark contrast to Damian's portrayal of being the other Robin who's only special because he believes he's the greatest son and wants to be at Bruce's side.

so all this to say, if your fav is Tim YOU'RE EATING WELL!! personally as a chronic enjoyer of things, this has been an entertaining run! as a chronic enjoyer of Damian, it's definitely not for many of his fans at this point in time.

i did like this part!! his grin!!