#where's that post about missing a time and circumstance around a piece of media as opposed to the media in and of itself

[spottedenchants]

wasn't even a full minute, I miss him 😔

yeah 😔 but! there will likely be more in some way, shape, or form >:3

[mightys12]

How me write good?

Well, if you’re asking for writing advice, I might not be the best person to ask but I’ll do all I can!

The most important thing to improving at writing is just practicing a bunch. You don’t have to be good, you just have to try. This is gonna sound like a little strange advice, but one of your best bets is to find a larger fandom. I started out in the BNHA fandom, and because there were so many molds to fit into and so many people reading, posting and commenting it had a lot of benefits. Notably, if your primary catalyst to keep writing is comments/kudos, a big fandom helps to keep that up while you learn to write for fun (gradual process, some people never really do and that’s also fine). But just writing over and over and over again will make you improve. If you don’t want to put out low quality work on your main, take the time to make an alt and pump out lots and lots of content.

While you’re making that lots of content, try to go basic in terms of improving your writing. Look up short videos on the Oxford comma, read your writing aloud and figure out where you’re missing commas, toy around with your writing to figure out where periods should replace commas, watch videos on dashes, or take a look at how semicolons are used. These short videos aren’t about a sharp guide on how to write. Writing is something with a lot of style and unique ways to convey your voice with writing. Depending on the media you consume, that will alter how you write as well. Use these not to force yourself to write in a certain way, but to become familiar with the tools in your toolbox. Learn punctuation so you have a useful wrench to piece together what you want to convey.

Another useful thing is to step back and read your own story from a readers perspective. What are they missing that they need to know? What might’ve been a little unclear? What misconceptions could arise? Scatter the answers to the questions throughout your text - avoid large lore drops and characters monologuing where you can.

Something notable is character interactions. If you have two characters interacting, you have to remember to keep their “voice” in mind when piecing together their respective bits of dialogue. Are these characters strong-willed? They’ll look for a disagreement with each other, then, most likely. Is one more meek compared to the other? He might be a bit of a pushover. Their “voices” are influenced by their circumstances, too. Even meek characters gain stronger voices when surrounded by people they know care for them. Strong-willed characters may back off in situations where they feel uncomfortable, or they might press forward being inconsiderate. Remember, if you struggle with these “voices” the “OOC (XYZ)” is your best friend : p

Find someone who enjoys your work. This is a later step. Once you’ve gotten the basics down, written enough to improve your general abilities and understand your toolbox well enough a great step to take is find a beta reader. Someone interested in what you want to write. I lucked out with an amazing beta reader in the form of @bluginkgo who I cannot appreciate enough (sorry for the tag!). They helped me make leaps and bounds in my writing, and once you have an established enough ability to write, a beta reader is a great next step to elevate your writing in the short and long term.

Finally, read. You pick up tricks steadily whether it be from reading good fanfiction or reading high quality literature. You learn to watch out for issues you find a little gross on the eyes. Things like repetitive word use, not enough action included in dialogue (even something as simple as making a character scratch the bridge of their nose), or the plot becoming unclear all become easier to identify as a writer by seeing others mistakes and successes from the lens of a reader.

[mumbling-and-musing]

I’m grieving the friendships I once held dear. The lives that touched mine in such profound ways that I thought we would know each other forever. Some of the relationships eroded due to distance, opinions, circumstances, and a few to death. I miss the hundreds of ways my life could have changed if I had just held on a little tighter and kept the friendship alive.

Sometimes I hear a laugh that reminds me of my friend from seventh grade. The one who laughed like she would always have breath in her lungs and people around her. She moved away and now I can’t even remember her middle name. But I will always miss her and what could have been if we had stayed in touch.

I saw his mom at the grocery store last week and exchanged pleasantries as we walked in opposite directions. I haven’t talked to him since we graduated high school. My sister sees him everyday at her school where he teaches. At one point I considered him my best friend. We had all of our classes together and several clubs in common. We had such deep conversations about life and who we wanted to be. He was the first guy who taught me that I could be friends with the opposite gender without it being weird. Cried in my car thinking about how my sister knows him better than me now.

I saw a flash of platinum blonde hair and flashed to my closest friend. The only friend I told about my troubles in high school. I showed her my diary and all of my worries and we made a wish on a stone that we threw in a pond. We both had issues and struggled with mental health as teens. I worried about her, and I know she worried about me. Now the only time I see her is through posts on social media. I think she is happy, but the only glimpse of her life I see is the one she puts out for the world. I’ll never cry in her arms as we wonder if we will make it through another year.

Another friend from childhood. Her name started with a B. She will forever live on in my heart, but she hasn’t lived in this world since she took her life at 16. I’ve cried about her more than I’ve cried about myself. I can’t remember her laugh anymore. It’s been six years now. I never used to like green until I learned it was her favorite color and now it feels like a safety blanket to wear. I don’t even know if we would have stayed in touch through college, but I do know that we never got the chance.

The first friend I made in college. She left after three months because her brother died. We walked to class together every day. One time we skipped class so we could have a picnic out by the pond because it was nice outside. I hugged her as she cried and meticulously took notes for her even though I knew she wouldn’t read them. I never learned her middle name but I know that she wanted kids and she worried that life would pass her by if she didn’t appreciate it enough.

Three years ago I was part of the tightest knit group of friends that I had ever had. There were five of us and now nobody even talks to each other. We hung out every day and had sleepovers weekly. We met through a college religious organization. And now two of us don’t even believe in organized religion. At least three of us have come out as queer. One moved across the country and they are doing better now. One got a boyfriend and a cat. The other two stopped talking to me when I stopped participating in their religion. We talked about our fears for our futures and promised to be friends forever but couldn’t even withstand one person coming out as gay. I miss the cohesion of the group and how everything felt possible because we loved each other. They were the first people that I told about the pieces of myself that I had kept hidden from everyone else. Now I know very little about any of them.

There are so many people who have passed through my life. I miss so many of them. Some days I am overcome by grief for the friendships and the lives that I once lived. The friendships that ended abruptly with a decisive event and the ones that slowly fizzled out as plans were missed and messages ignored. Ve never dated anyone but I know the grief of heartbreak intimately.

[telehxhtrash]

On the cultural lore behind the late Hunter Exam Arc and the Testing Gates Arc.

Hi ! Today I want to talk a bit about Togashi’s use of mythology, legends and lore as a way to emphasize the narrative in his story. 

It’s no secret that Togashi loves to use details and symbolism in his story, but I think the Testing Gates arc is the one arc that uses this writing technique the most. In only a few chapters, Togashi manages to reference and intertwine 3 different legends to highlight the message in his narrative : Gon’s rescue mission is emphasized by the legend of Orihime & Hikoboshi, the legend of Eurydice & Orpheus, and the legend of Izanami & Izanagi.

As you may know, the early part of Killua’s character arc reflects the Tanabata legend, and it’s reinforced by the fact that his birthday falls on July 7th, the day Tanabata is celebrated. I’m going to link this post that is better written than anything I could ever write on this, so I suggest reading this before reading this post ! I’ll still go over the general details of Tanabata below though.

The legend of Tanabata can be closely paralleled to Killua’s early story arc. 

Orihime worked relentlessly for her father and weaved the most beautiful clothes. She was very, very talented and worked very hard for her father. 

However, Orihime lamented the fact that because of her job, she couldn’t meet someone and fall in love. All she craved was human connection, and her working for her father kept her from meeting someone and falling in love.

Her father eventually allowed her to meet someone, Hikoboshi, and they instantly fell in love.

But sadly for her father, that meant that Orihime didn’t focus on her job anymore and only focused on appreciating her time with her lover.

In anger, her father decided to separate the two lovers and forbade them to meet. (don’t take this too literally - the Zoldyck family in its entirety represents Orihime’s father)

As you can see, Killua follows Orihime’s story pretty accurately. He used to work for his family as a skilled assassin, the most skilled one in the entire Zoldyck family’s history. However, Killua lamented the fact that because of this, he couldn’t make friends. That’s his primary reason for leaving the Zoldyck Mansion : see if he could make a friend. And then, he met Gon, and it was pretty much love at first sight. The two of them enjoyed their time together, joking around and sticking together most of the time, until the final phase of the Hunter Exam where Illumi forbids Killua from seeing Gon and manipulates him into going back to the Zoldyck Mansion.

This isn’t how the Tanabata legend ends, but this is where the other 2 legends I want to talk about come into play.

Gon, after being passed out for hours as a consequence of his fight with Hanzo, learns about Killua’s fight with his brother and completely flips out. He proceeds to confront Illumi about it directly and asserts that Killua is his friend and that he’ll bring him back no matter what. After this, Leorio, Kurapika and Gon make their way to the Zoldyck Mansion to get Killua back. As they arrive at the Mansion, the tour guide proceeds to explain one of the particularities of the Zoldyck Mansion : there’s a huge gate that can only be opened by brute force. Anyone can enter, as long as they go through this door. And this is where it gets interesting.

The tour guide mentions that this gate is called “黄泉への扉”, yomi he no tobira. The gate to Yomi.

But Tele, why the fuck are you mentioning this, you may ask.

Because 黄泉, Yomi, is the land of the dead. Togashi is expressing that this is the gate to Yomi, the gate to enter the land of the dead : the Zoldyck Mansion. The Zoldyck Mansion is directly compared to Yomi. 

In Japanese mythology, Yomi is where all souls go after they die. No matter if you were good or bad, you’ll end up in Yomi. It’s not Heaven, it’s not Hell, it’s just…. A place where you end up rotting forever. It’s described as gloomy and dark, empty and cold. It’s not burning in hellfire, it’s just a place where you just sort of wander aimlessly, empty for the rest of eternity. 

And this cold and gloomy, empty atmosphere can directly be correlated to the Zoldyck Mansion. The tour guide mentions that this is the gate to Yomi, because if you enter, you’ll never come back, but this applies more to Killua. Killua is in Yomi right now after a trauma-induced dissociative episode. He was forcefully sent back to the Mansion, and is now being tortured by his family. If Killua stays there, it’s obvious he’ll never come back psychologically from this. He’ll be trapped in this meaningless existence, cold and empty, devoid of any passion. A life his parents chose for him, a life he doesn’t want to live, a life as Zoldyck heir. He’ll be stuck in Yomi, the land of the dead, forever.

But Gon won’t let that happen. He planned this rescue mission because Killua opened up to him about who he wants to be. He doesn’t want to live according to his family’s plans for him anymore, he wants to live a life for himself and be free. And Gon wants to help him achieve that, because he saw the good in Killua. Which is why he insisted he’d rescue Killua himself and will drag him out of the Zoldyck Mansion. He’ll get him out of Yomi.

Which leads us to the story of Izanami and Izanagi. Yomi is commonly known as Izanami’s retreat after her death, so when you hear Yomi, you automatically associate it to Izanami. And there’s an interesting piece of lore when it comes to Yomi and Izanami : Izanagi’s rescue mission. Izanami died a horrible death after being burned giving birth to the fire god Kagutsuchi : she descended to Yomi. However, Izanagi, her husband (and brother but we don’t talk about that) found himself miserable. He missed her terribly and couldn’t live a life without her. That’s why he decided to make the trip to Yomi to get her back. Izanami ended up pleading to the Gods of Yomi to let her go back to Izanagi, and the Gods ended up making her an exception and allowing her to leave.

I’ll spare you the details but the story ends tragically with Izanagi trapping Izanami in Yomi forever, her ruling over it and the both of them pretty much getting divorced. 

Anyways. What matters is that when you talk about Yomi, it’s automatically linked to Izanami, and Izanami is automatically linked to Izanagi and his rescue mission. A rescue mission that also happened in HxH. Just like Izanagi, Gon decided to take the trip to Yomi, as the tour guide said, to rescue Killua from eternal damnation and be reunited with him once again.

Additionally and still in the spirit of the Yomi lore, the etymology of Yomi (黄泉) is uncertain, but it is theorized that it could come from 山, yama, meaning mountain. Izanami was buried in the mountains and Yomi was thought to be located in the mountains in ancient society, which is leading me to believe this could be the reason why the Zoldyck Estate has a mountain. So it could simply be because the Zoldyck Mansion is referred to as Yomi, and Yomi was thought to be in the mountains : hence the Zoldycks living on a mountain, fitting the Yomi lore perfectly.

There’s one last interesting thing about Yomi. Since Yomi is not Hell, it’s not where peoples’ souls go to get punished but more of a place of eternal wander, it’s oftentimes related to the Greek Underworld also known as Hades. So usually, when japanese media refers to something as Yomi, translators choose to go with “Hades”, which is the translation choice Viz made here.

So by insinuating the Zoldyck Mansion is considered as Yomi, it also connects it to the Greek Underworld, since the two are deeply connected. And interestingly enough, the first thing that pops into my head when I think of the Underworld is Orpheus and Eurydice’s story.

Orpheus and Eurydice fell in love at first sight, and enjoyed all their living moments together, however, this provoked the jealousy of one man who despised Orpheus and desired Eurydice for himself. After multiple events including a chase through the woods, Eurydice got bit by a deadly snake and died, leaving Orpheus heartbroken and alone. He couldn’t do anything but grieve and he lost his will to live without his beloved. That’s when he decided to take a trip to the Underworld in an attempt to get Eurydice back. Orpheus, armed with his lyre and his voice, was pretty much protected by the Gods as he walked through the Underworld and sang his song of love to anyone who would listen. His song and story brought tears to Hades and Persephone’s eyes, and Hades eventually accepted to make a deal with Orpheus : Eurydice has to follow him and he must not look back under any circumstance as long as they’re in the Underworld, or she will be sent back there forever. 

I’ll once again spare you the depressing details, but basically, Orpheus turned back because he couldn’t bear to not look at his beloved anymore, they got separated again and Orpheus ended up grieving his entire life, ending up being killed because of it.

So once again, here, there are similarities between Gon and Killua and Orpheus and Eurydice. Falling in love at first sight ; Illumi despising Gon and wanting Killua for himself and his family, thus ending up causing a separation and sending Killua to the Zoldyck Mansion ; Gon deciding to get Killua back. And for this one, there’s one interesting thing, and I thank @gallyl very much for telling me this, but it’s very important to note that Orpheus got Eurydice back because he sang songs of love and proved his devotion to Eurydice. Gon did the exact same thing. During those 7 chapters where Gon rescues Killua, the word friend is highlighted 7 times.

Gon, and therefore Togashi, makes it a point to emphasize that his rescue mission is solely based on his love for Killua. He’s doing it out of devotion and care for him. Just like Orpheus rescued Eurydice with his song of love and brought tears to everyone’s eyes, Gon managed to go through every hardship he faced by highlighting that Killua is his friend. That’s how he managed to convince Zebro to let him train to pass the gates, that’s how he got to Gotoh and to Canary, and eventually to Silva. Because he kept on saying that he’s doing this because of his love for Killua, which eventually softened all of these people and made them get on board with his rescue mission. 

Another parallel is the fact that Hades strikes a deal with Orpheus with a condition, and should the condition be broken, Eurydice will return to the Underworld. Here, it’s slightly different but still under the same spirit. Silva strikes a deal with Killua, making him promise to never betray his friend, and that if he does… he will be unworthy of his friends and will have to return home. 

There are also a few other references to the Underworld in the way Togashi portrays the Zoldyck Mansion and Silva and Kikyo, but I won’t get into it too much for fear of not being too objective and reaching, so I’ll just go over one. The Greek Underworld is kept by Cerberus, a gigantic 3 headed dog. And while Togashi didn’t make Mike a 3-headed dog, he did include 3 different dogs as gatekeepers of the Zoldyck Mansion, thus keeping a connection to the Cerberus lore.

So by making one random character talk about Yomi, the japanese underworld, Togashi calls back to those two myths : the japanese myth of Izanami and Izanagi and the greek myth of Orpheus and Eurydice. Togashi put imagery for both of these legends to emphasize that they are connected to the story, and as a way to further highlight the narrative of someone rescuing someone they deeply care about.

I never finished talking about Orihime and Hikoboshi’s story, so I’ll do it now! After being forbidden to meet, Orihime pleaded for her father to let her see Hikoboshi again, until he finally agreed to let them reunite on the 7th day of the 7th month. However, when they reunited for the first time, there was no bridge to cross for them to be able to meet. That’s when a flock of magpies came and promised to help the lovers reunite, creating a bridge between the two of them, and allowing them to finally reunite.

This is once again reminiscent of the Testing Gates arc. Killua asked his dad to be able to see Gon again, until he finally accepted. However, Gon found that it was hard to cross the metaphorical bridge that are all the hardships of the Zoldyck Mansion, until a bird finally helped him : Canary. Canaries are birds that symbolize happiness, freedom and that spread joy. On top of that, I could even reach a bit and highlight that magpies, the birds that reunited Orihime and Hikoboshi are mostly recognizable by their long black tail. Canary and Gotoh, butlers, are the main reason Gon managed to get to Killua, and butlers outfits are characterized with a longer back, reminiscent of a tail, detail that Togashi also put. So it’s easy with that to associate the butlers with the flock of magpie, since they’re the reason Gon managed to get back to Killua.

The Tanabata lore started from the moment we got introduced to Killua’s character up until Killua and Gon finally reunite, and this lore was complemented by 2 other legends that highlight this beautiful narrative of rescuing a loved one.

All 3 of these legends share common themes : they feature lovers who got separated for multiple reasons and one of them pleading to higher forces to let them have their lover back. There’s a common theme of love and devotion that ends up moving the higher forces and lets the person be reunited with their lover at last. All these missions were rescue missions done in the name of love : Orihime pleaded with her father out of love, Orpheus sang his song of love to plead to Hades to let him get Eurydice back, Izanami asked the Gods to let her come back to Izanagi. And Gon begged everyone to let him see his friend. He shouted on top of every rooftop that Killua was his friend and that he’s rescuing him out of love and devotion for him, and that’s exactly what made people help him get Killua back. It’s seeing Gon’s love that made people help him, just like in those legends.

So by giving us references to these legends, by making Gon and Killua follow the same tropes as these myths, Togashi is highlighting the beautiful narrative of Gon’s rescue mission. Togashi is putting little details and symbolism to give his story more depth and make us subconsciously link together a legend about lovers wanting to reunite after being separated, and two legends about people going on a rescue mission to save their loved ones. 

Killua’s story follows the Tanabata legend closely, he meets Gon and it’s love at first sight, they are happy together, until they’re separated. Then he gets sent back to the Mansion, Yomi, the Underworld, which prompts Gon to organize a rescue mission out of love, just like Izanagi and Orpheus. It’s thanks to this love that he moved Zebro, Canary, Gotoh and finally Silva, just like Izanami’s pleads moved the Gods and allowed her to (almost) leave, and just like Orpheus’ love songs moved Hades. Finally, they are reunited by a bird, Canary, and a flock of magpies, the butlers, just like in the Tanabata legend. The lovers are reunited at last, after a long rescue mission.

I can already feel the panicked asks, “but Tele, all these tales end tragically, is Killua and Gon’s relationship broken forever? Are they going to die?”. No. HxH is not a retelling of common legends. It’s not accurately and faithfully translating myths into a manga. It’s using cultural references to emphasize some narratives, and here, it’s the narrative of two lovers going against all odds to reunite with each other once again after being separated. I’ll link you to this post by @/buzzykrueger that explained it better than I could, but don’t worry, I can promise you, Togashi will never head this way. HxH is not a retelling of old tales, and he loves to subvert common classical tropes. He already subverted them many, many times in his manga, and I can guarantee you that Killua and Gon will be fine in the end.

Also, yes, I’m referring to Killua and Gon as lovers in this post, because Togashi made the conscious choice to refer to 3 pieces of lore focused on romantic love. 

Thank you for reading this ! If you’re interested, I’ll link all my references below! Also, Tumblr hates me and won’t let me appear in tags anymore, so reblogs are very appreciated. Ty for reading!

• On the general legend of Tanabata : here and here

• On Yomi : here and here

• On Izanami & Izanagi : here and here

• On Eurydice and Orpheus : here

[cruelfeline]

Anyone who hangs about Twitter potentially saw an unfortunate Hordak take cross their timelines today. 

As is custom on this blog, I’ll be taking it apart for my own personal amusement (and for the amusement of any of y’all who like to watch me do so). I doubt the poster will see this, as they’re on Twitter and not apparently on here, but in case they do: this is for my own enjoyment and the enjoyment of followers; it absolutely does not need to be responded to if that’s not your cup of tea. 

So, that little disclaimer in place, let’s see what we can make of this! Because this is on Medium, I’ll be using screenshots as quotes; just a heads-up.

So... this first bit isn’t really anything Hordak-related. It’s more... fandom drama, I suppose? Not really something I can pick apart. I can, however, give my own personal opinion on this sort of thing, for what it’s worth.

It’s true that people can and should be able to feel whichever way they wish about a character. And to talk about that character. 

However: it is also true that people who dislike Hordak can be very unpleasant in making that known to those of us who enjoy him. Including descending into personal insults for no discernible reason. Add to that the fact that his character means a great deal to some fans for intensely personal reasons, and it is not difficult to see why some fans aren’t keen to see anti-Hordak content on their timelines, in their mentions, etc.

Censoring character hate isn’t a requirement, but in some circumstances, it can simply be a polite thing to do. It doesn’t take great effort, and it prevents people from experiencing just another bit of unpleasantness on their social media. And if you don’t want to do it? Well, that’s your right; but don’t be shocked when people voice their displeasure by replying to your words. Because that is their right.

And that’s all I really have to say about that. 

Odd way to phrase things, really. These aren’t “reasons to forgive.” The first two scenes involve Catra’s asphyxiations and are things that would need to be forgiven, not things to forgive.

Though, y’know, I really only apply that to the first scene, where he assaults her without her necessarily doing anything wrong. Mind you, I believe he does it out of a combination of needing to maintain a hierarchy for safety purposes (this is a man who needs people to be afraid of him to maintain his own safety) and poor leadership skills mimicked from a narcissist, but it’s still a terrible thing.

However! The second time? After he asks her about Shadow Weaver? This isn’t torture-fun-times. This is Hordak neutralizing a threat to the entire Horde. Because that is what Catra is in this moment: a threat to the security and wellbeing of him and the entirety of the Fright Zone. She lies about a critical mistake. She proves herself to not only have poor judgment in serious matters, but to be very willing to lie about it in order to guard her own selfish motives. While I can’t condone the method Hordak uses, I do wish people would stop using this second instance of punishment as some sort of proof-of-torture. He does not do this for no reason. He does it because Catra released a dangerous prisoner into the wild and lied about it. And his concerns over it ultimately prove correct.

This entire qualification doesn’t have much to do with whether he deserves forgiveness or not, but it’s a point I want to make because it combats this idea that Hordak did this to an innocent girl “for no reason” or “just to be cruel.” That’s simply not the case; no matter how unpleasant the method, Hordak is a military leader punishing a subordinate for seriously endangering him and everyone else in the organization. Badly. I don’t know what the equivalent would be in modern military, but Catra’s error is massive. It doesn’t make what Hordak does right, but it does give a reason other than a simple “he’s a bad, bad man.” So.

Adding this scene is... actually kind of odd because he doesn’t really do anything to Adora here. And also: this scene is... what’s the word... meaningful-in-hindsight, so to speak. Essentially: in this scene, Adora is claiming that Hordak is responsible for stealing her, for robbing her of a peaceful life with her family. And Hordak is claiming that he neither knows nor cares who she is, and that she does not matter to him. 

The interesting aspect of this scene, and something that OP fails to acknowledge at all, is that both Adora and Hordak are wrong.

let’s see if I can talk about this without crying... nope, already starting to tear up

Hordak never stole Adora; Light Hope did. Hordak did not orchestrate this unfortunate life for her. Rather, Hordak, a lost clone dealing with his own insecurities and fears and problems, found an equally lost infant in a field and gave her the only home he really knew how to create (and one that, for its flaws, was still better than the absolute nightmare he was “raised” in). In all likelihood, given Light Hope’s lack of understanding of infants, he probably saved Adora’s life by doing this: without him, she may well have perished alone in that field.

Hordak likewise does remember her, eventually. And she is not inconsequential to him: by saving her, he ends up saving himself, and all of his brothers. By forging this near-unknown bond with her all those years ago, by choosing to take in an infant rather than letting her die, he plays a key role in deciding the fate of the universe. 

This scene that OP sarcastically claims is a reason Hordak shouldn’t be forgiven has a sibling:

The fact that OP apparently fails to recognize this and realize that these are the only two moments in the series during which Adora and Hordak directly interact, that they’re a pair, means that OP misses the connection between the two and the significance of how they misjudge one another initially. It indicates a lack of understanding of the themes of the show: themes centered around connections with other people, love, and forgiveness. Which, given the contents of this essay, is unsurprising.

Moving on!

Y’know, whether or not one believes, in terms of definition, that Hordak is a colonizer (I personally don’t for pedantic and clone-cult reasons, but that’s not really relevant to this post), it’s interesting that OP notes how Stevenson confirms that he is... but conveniently leaves out the part where she confirms that he did it because he was brainwashed.

That’s... an important piece of information to leave out when discussing whether Hordak should be forgiven or not. A very important piece.

And it doesn’t really matter whether he’s a colonizer or a conqueror; the reason it comes up is because people seem very stuck in the mindset of “if it’s a colonizer, it must die” without acknowledging any sort of nuance. There’s also the question of whether what Hordak did actually caused the same sort of upheaval and lasting damage we see resulting from legitimate colonization, and all of the implications of that, but this isn’t really the place to go into that. Honestly, I don’t really think SPoP as a whole is the place to go into that.

No. Hordak is not the person who taught her all of these things. 

Shadow Weaver is.

Hordak did not personally teach her that Princesses are evil. He did not teach her that wanton cruelty is fine in getting one’s own way. He did not feed her propaganda. 

Actually, as an aside: can we even confirm that Catra ever thought that Princesses where evil? I mean... she works with Scorpia, and she has no apparent morals to speak of. She does as she wishes for her own personal gain, not because she displays any sense of “fighting the evil Princesses.” And in terms of disposing of Entrapta because she was “manipulated” into viewing Princesses as evil: Catra disposes of everyone. She manipulates and uses everyone. That is one of the key aspects of her arc: she uses and abuses people for personal gain. She does this whether they are Princesses or not: just see Lonnie, Rogelio, and Kyle. Add to this the fact that Catra, from the first season, knows that she and Adora have been lied to, manipulated, and that the Horde is in fact evil, and... this entire line of reasoning falls apart. 

None of this is an attempt to “absolve Hordak of blame.” Hordak just... legitimately had no hand in raising any of the children. That was not his role (and while I know that this was confirmed by Stevenson at some point, I don’t have memory of where; potentially the last podcast?). And Catra did not operate on any sort of propaganda that she actually believed in: she simply used and disposed of people as she saw fit because she cared more about her own rise to power than she did about those around her. This was one of her major character flaws, and really? Trying to pin this on Hordak, or even fully pin it on Shadow Weaver? It absolves Catra of the blame, of the intentional bad choices she made (as emphasized by Adora) and thus weakens her entire arc.

All in all: Hordak may have created a poor environment for the raising of children, but of note is the fact that only Catra turns out this way. The other kids, whatever their problems, are not in the habit of manipulating friends, lying to them, using them, and then tossing them aside. That is a Catra Problem. Part of this can be attributed to Shadow Weaver (who only treated Catra in the poorest way), and part of it is just... Catra being not-the-best.

All right. Now we get to the really disingenuous portion of the essay.

First, as just stated: Hordak is not Catra’s abuser. Shadow Weaver is. Hordak had no hand in raising her. Hordak did not direct Shadow Weaver to abuse her. Hordak did not personally feed Catra anti-Princess propaganda, and even if he had, we know by the first season that Catra sees through whatever propaganda she was exposed to and has no actual moral objections to Princesses. But that’s not the main aspect of this portion that irks me. 

The main aspect that irks me is that this is not the scene Hordak stans mark as abusive. And I cannot imagine that OP does not know this.

But let’s talk about this scene, for a moment, before getting to the actual, legitimate abuse.

OP talks about his scene almost flippantly: “Hordak finds out Catra lied about Entrapta, he becomes angry and attacks her with a clear plan to kill her.”

Yes. Yes, he "becomes angry.” He becomes angry and attacks because as far as he knows, Catra killed Entrapta. This isn’t some annoyed “you lied to me!” moment. He legitimately thinks Entrapta is dead because Catra sent her to Beast Island. OP just blissfully glosses over the fact that Hordak is attacking Catra in rage and grief because Catra, as far as either of them know, killed his only friend and then lied about it for approximately a year. Like... how do you gloss over that in discussing this scene? How do you gloss over the enormity of what Catra did, and the unimaginable pain Hordak experiences when finding out?

So. The writeup of this scene is poor. It misses all of the emotion, all of the reality of what Catra did and what Hordak felt. But! That’s not even the unfortunate part of this portion. Let’s get to the real disingenuity.

This is the abusive scene. This is that stomach-turning moment when Catra removes a disabled man’s ability to move with dignity and without pain solely to force him to escalate a war for her own personal benefit.

Hordak is not a danger to her here. Hordak has not been a danger to her for a while because he has been holed up in his private quarters, trying to deal with the emotional fallout of Entrapta supposedly betraying him. He wants nothing to do with Catra. He wants to lick his wounds and gather himself and somehow heal from this deep personal pain that’s been inflicted upon him.

And that’s a problem for Catra because it stands in the way of her using the war as a way to best Adora.

So Catra identifies Hordak’s physical weakness and exploits it for the purpose of spiting her ex.

The fact that OP completely fails to acknowledge any of this is... well. Disingenuous. Absolutely so.

The next portion of the essay talks about people feeling that Catra was too easily forgiven and isn’t really Hordak-centric; I won’t really go into it here. Moving forward:

Ah, one of the most annoying questions I see asked. Let’s, again, acknowledge and move past the fact that Hordak was not actually Catra’s abuser...

When, pray tell, was Hordak supposed to show this remorse? When? While he was serving on Prime’s ship, trying to forget the pain of losing Entrapta, of failing to prove himself, of losing everything? Should he have done it while screaming in agony in the purification pool? Should he have done so while alone on Prime’s ship, trying to serve quietly while piecing together his memories?

Not only was Hordak simply not in a position, narratively, to go into a whole remorse bit, but he had other problems. Like, life-endangering problems. 

The appropriate time to go into his feelings on Etheria and the Princesses and All of That would have been after Prime’s defeat, upon Hordak’s re-introduction to Etheria... but then the show ended. So.

Agh, vulgar. Taking a brainwashed, conditioned slave and bastardizing his triumph at finally seeing himself as a real person, instead claiming that his intent was to glorify his own misdeeds. No. Just... no.

Again: this is not the time for guilt. And it is a demonstration of why guilt and remorse were not front-and-center in Hordak’s arc during season five: his arc was about finally realizing that he was his own person, a person worthy of identity and love and care and freedom. And this arc culminated in him separating himself from his abuser and declaring his personhood. 

That is what this scene is: not Hordak reveling in his makeshift empire, or in the terrible deeds he’d committed, but in declaring himself his own person. 

I should hope that he is proud of doing that. I’m proud of him for doing that daunting feat, of defeating his abuser and defying his god and recognizing that he is worthy of more than what Prime thought of him. And I recognize Entrapta’s role in it: not as the sole inspiration for his change, but as someone who showed him a foundation of love and acceptance, someone who introduced him to the idea that he was worthy of care and happiness and affection simply because he was a living being, no strings attached.

Trying to shoehorn in some sort of claim that this is about pride in his misdeeds, rather than joy at finally accepting his own sense of self is a massive misinterpretation of this scene, a misunderstanding of Entrapta’s role in Hordak’s arc, and... can I say it’s disingenuous again? Because I’m going to: it’s disingenuous.

All right; we’re at the end. And while the first sentence here is something I absolutely agree with - the decision to forgive Hordak is personal and subjective both for viewers and for in-show characters - the whole conclusion falls apart from there.

It highlights another glaring omission from OP’s arguments: the fact that Hordak is a brainwashed clone slave.

Hordak did not choose to “spend his life trying to prove his worth to Horde Prime.” He did not choose the method of said proving: that Prime would look kindly upon conquering rather than some other task. And he did not choose to have certain concepts and ideas (all beings must suffer to become pure; all creatures, no matter how small, have a place in service of Horde Prime; failure is when something ceases to serve a purpose) conditioned into him.

Hordak was manufactured as a cultist slave. He was “born” with hardware implanted into his body against his will to better control him. He was indoctrinated and brainwashed to the point that he believed that Horde Prime was his literal god - and in a way, Prime was, because he could mentally invade and possess and physically control the clones whenever he wished. 

Hordak was not allowed to have a sense of self. He was not allowed to have a name. He was not allowed to express emotions. He was not allowed to live without that life serving to glorify Horde Prime. Hordak was so absolutely sick with this mentality that he saw himself as a failure due to physical disability and assumed it was his responsibility to fix that. 

The idea that Hordak simply chose to do what he did, that he had the same foundational morality and mindset as any “normal” person might, shows a glaring lack of understanding even the basics of his narrative. 

Yes: Hordak did bad things. But he did them for legitimately tragic, nigh-horrifying reasons that this essay just ignores for the sake of... I don’t know? Trying to justify OP’s distaste for the character? I am uncertain. But it’s a mark of a poor essay, of a poor understanding of the character, and is honestly just disappointing to read when the show itself tries so hard to drive home its wonderful, hopeful themes through Hordak’s story.

Whether one forgives Hordak or not is one’s personal choice, but I certainly hope one makes said choice with better insight into his character than this essay provides.

[shadowsole]

I wasn't gonna go into it more because I don't really do that stuff here but I wanna talk more about Iron Widow since it's been a long time since I really got into a book that I read it on like less than 8 hours not including work and I have thoughts.

Some spoilers below

First of all it is so unapologetically feminist in just a way that feels incredibly real.

I am not well read, between time money and just having other hobbies I don't read books like I used too so maybe this is just something that's common these days but the stories I've read that deal with discrimination or anything similar never really catches the anger I think is common in these situations.

Wu Zetian is furious and she feels so real in every part of it. In a way that characters like say Katniss never true felt like for me.

It is also unapologetically Chinese, not that I expected anything different after binging all of Xiran Jay Zhao's videos a couple of months back.

I have a love of reading history from all around the world with a special interest in parts of Chinese history and it was a ball recognising the Chinese history references. Though I'm sure I missed many.

Also I had a great moment of this meme

But going Zhuge Liang?!

I don't think the dynasty warriors designs is what I should have been imagining the whole time though lol.

The imagery was also amazing. I usually struggle with properly picturing what's described in my head but there where so many moments that I just sat back and could see the full cinematic shots. God this book would legitimately make a wonderful movie and It really makes me want to jump into drawing with vibrant colour just to see some of it.

Another thing that was just refreshing was the love triangle being an actual triangle. Again maybe that's more common in media these days but I think it's actually the first time I've actually seen a polygamous relationship in published media. I love how all the parts of the relationship grow and the straight up conversations that are had between the characters about it. Triangles truely are the strongest shape.

Finally, I really liked the relationship between Zetian and her mother. The constant mental almost begging her mother to just give her a reason to not condemn her and the rest of the family. And because of the historical Wu Zetians seemingly positive relationship with her mother I was honestly expecting some kind of reconciliation or forgiveness.

So the ending with that last mental plea to prove herself a good mother, with just an almost emotionless "you're in my way" shocked me.

This actually really resonated with me and my own relationship with my mother

My circumstances are much more benign but I have issues with my mother that I'll never get an apology for that have weighed heavily on me. That last scene with Zetians family and her (by my reading) lack of anger or hatred and just cold this is in my way so I will put it behind me really made me stop for a second and think about my own mother. No more sorrow or anger, no forgiveness. This situation and history is in my way of being a better me and so I'm just going to step through it and put it behind me.

So @xiranjayzhao I don't know if you'll look at this post or read all the way through. But thank you for not giving up on getting published. Not only have you made an excellent piece of entertainment but I think it has actually helped me in my own issues so thank you, can't wait for part two

If anyone else has read down to this a, sorry, b, you should read Iron Widow if it sounds like it appeals to you. Although I don't think I actually mentioned the giant mechas at all, which is a pretty big thing.

Or at least check out Xiran Jay Zhao's YouTube. The history of Wu Zetian told like the juiciest gossip is fun and informative

[that-good-trash]

Burn Away With Me 3

Shoto Todoroki x reader / Dabi x reader

Warnings: Mentions of death and blood, profanity, kidnap, murder, Angst

Word count: 10K

Part 1 Part 2

Summary: Kidnap and murder usually go hand in hand but not like this. The world thinks your dead and you have to watch them mourn you like a princess locked away in a tower. Except princes don’t look for dead girls. You might just have to rely on the villain who took you.   

Comment: Holy Shit, I am so sorry this took so long and that I haven’t been posting anything new. School just started again and I am a full time student and employee. I have a few other fics in progress and there will be a part four to this fic, which will be the conclusion. Thank you all for sticking around still and just bear with me. This chapter is long and I hope there aren’t to many errors with grammar or spelling. I hope you enjoy and please look forward to my next fics which I hope to post this week. 

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Endeavor was a clever man with years of getting what he wanted tucked under his belt. He wasn’t intimidated by his son. He thought of his son as a tool not a human being with feelings and emotions that mattered. He had tried to be that guy and failed. His wife wanted nothing to do with him and neither did his oldest son. He showed them that he could change and yet they didn’t forgive him so what was the point of changing. He reverted back to the piece of shit he was so good at being. If he couldn’t be Number 1 and a ‘good’ dad then fine. A hero it is, despite the fact that he wasn’t a good hero either. Just a narcissistic asshole who beats people down with no remorse and would do anything to get what he wanted. Even kill you, even kill his own son. You and Dabi had ‘murdered by Endeavor’ on your personal resumes.

Now Shoto was standing his ground against the man who continues to take the things he loves. His flames dance around his body waiting to be released like hell hounds against his father. The ice cracks when Endeavor lifts his foot. He seems amused, like this is all a game. He wants Shoto to fall apart because it’s easier to control him when he isn’t all there. Shoto won’t let that happen, not when he needed to get revenge, if not for you then himself.

“TALK YOU BASTARD!” Shoto Todoroki was anything but a loud man. He wasn’t overly confrontational so this was a big change in his personality. Endeavor quirked a brow before his booming laugh pushed against the walls of his office. He steps forward knowing that his son will respond defensively. Ice shards jut forward almost striking the flame bearded man. He laughs before grabbing the overgrown frozen stalagmites melting them in seconds. His ice was strong but fire was still fire and couldn’t be overcome by a chill. His own fire pushed against Shoto’s as he approached. Shoto stood his ground, his hair had risen slightly dancing with his flames that were now reflecting in his eyes. His father glowers down at him neither of them willing to end this in a civil manner.

“I didn’t kill her but I am glad she is gone. You will mourn and hurt for now but in time she will be nothing but a painful memory. You can’t waste your time chasing rumors, trying to kill me. If you believe ever rumor out there then you would have to believe that you killed her or that she is actually alive. See how foolish those ideas are. You are just ruining your youth and if you kill me then you will spend the rest of your life behind bars. Would it be worth it Shoto?” He knows what to say to hurt his son. How could he forget about you? He couldn’t forget even if you wanted too. You were the better half of his life. You weren’t sunshine on a stormy day; no, you took him out in the rain and made him dance with you in it. He learned to love and be loved when you came into his life. Walking away now, giving up, was not a choice. He didn’t care about prison bars or the death sentence.

“Killing you, regardless of circumstance, would be worth everything.” The flames burned against each other as Shoto lifted his hand toward his fathers’ face. The flames disappeared at the sound of knocking on the door. Both men, despite having stopped their quirks, still looked at each other with intention to kill. “Come it.”

Midoriya opened the office door flinching slightly due to how hot the knob was. He walked into the room feeling the drastic change in temperature. The hallway was cool but the closer he got to Endeavors office the warmer it was. This however was extreme; he could feel the air stick to him from the increased humidity. He gripped his shirt pulling it in and outward trying to get a cool breeze.  Shoto never looked away from his father even when he heard Midoriya clear his throat.

“Um, what’s going on in here.” The green haired boy lifted his foot, his shoes were damp from the puddles accumulating from Shoto’s ice. The walls had a heavy amount of condensation and it seemed like there were char marks on the flooring and parts of the ceiling. Midoriya knew whatever answer he was about to receive it wasn’t going to be the truth. “Pro Hero Deku, you have stumbled across a misunderstanding. My son is just emotional over his girlfriend’s de-”

“Fiancé. She wasn’t just my girlfriend, we were engaged. I was going to marry her and that’s not going to happen because you ki-”

“Because she was murdered by someone whose still out there. You should be hunting that person down instead of harassing me. Deku, if you wouldn’t mind this is over and I have other things to attend to.” Shoto was seething with hatred that scared even Midoriya who never got to see the boy like this. Endeavor turned away from the boys knowing that Shoto wouldn’t attack with Midoriya there. Shoto clenched his fist before turning and storming out of the room. He didn’t blame Midoriya for this interruption but he was upset by it. The rushed footsteps of Midoriya could be heard chasing down the revenge obsessed male.

“What the heck was that?” Midoriya had been trying to get ahold of Shoto, not for business but as a friend. He knew that Shoto was taking your death hard and everyone was worried about his reclusive distant behavior. Hell, even Bakugou was ‘worried’ about your fiancé. “Don’t worry about it, it doesn’t involve you.”

Shoto doesn’t get to take another step as Midoriya grabs him yanking his shoulder around to face him. Midoriya stared at Shoto with a look that he had seen to many times in his life. He had seen this concerned determined face all those years ago at the festival and has continued to see it every time something concerning happens that Shoto doesn’t cope well with.

“Don’t worry about it? How can I not worry when my best friend isn’t answering anyone’s calls? Doesn’t involve me! I don’t know what you were doing or talking about with your dad and maybe that doesn’t involve me but you’re my best friend.” Midoriya is breathing heavy from speaking with no break. He looks down after removing his hand from Shoto’s shoulder. His face goes from determined and concerned to downhearted. When his eyes meet Shoto’s again they both share a common emotion, hopelessness. “Also, this does involve me, I was her friend too. I care about her; everyone cares about her. We all miss her Todoroki! I know your suffering but you aren’t alone. You are isolating yourself and its not good for you. Please Shoto, talk to me.”

Shoto searches Midoriya’s eyes for any emotions other than loss and sorrow. He wants to walk away and pretend like this never happened. He thinks suffering alone is better than relying on the people around him. He hadn’t even been back to your shared home, nor had he returned to his childhood home. Instead he locked himself away in a hotel room surrounding himself with your things and any media that could drive him to kill his father. He watched videos and read articles about the disgusting man’s feats and failures. He waited for the perfect moment while clinging to your fading scent on the clothing you left behind. He was a truly broken man and even though he was a hero his intents match a certain cerulean eyed villain. There were a million things that lingered on Shoto’s tongue, words that would never get to be said. He wanted to talk, hell he wished he could have been like his classmates crying their hearts out while sharing in-depth stories but every time he picked up his phone to call or text, he saw the photo of you he had saved as his background. A picture of you smiling carefree while the sun casts rays of light that shimmer off your skin. Your hair is frozen in a windy mess behind you. Your eyes are staring at him with so much happiness and love that it hurts. It wasn’t taken on some special day or under certain circumstance, it was just a simple photo taken on a simple walk. You didn’t understand why he chose the photo yet he was overly fond of it. When the picture stared at him, he couldn’t call his friends. He just stared into your eyes wishing to see the real ones. He missed your loving gaze, he missed any look you had as long as it was toward him, even if it was anger. He wanted anything but this. Having to seek comfort in a photo was cause for heartache.

Shoto pulls his phone from his pocket, looking at the photo, before looking at Midoriya. The words still sit behind his lips, tingling, willing his to speak.

“I have nothing to say Midoriya.” Midoriya had waited with bated breath for Shoto to tell him something, anything. He could see it in his friend’s eyes, he knew there were many things that needed to be said. The response he was given punched him in the gut. He would have doubled over in pain if the punch wasn’t metaphorical. Midoriya wasn’t the type to let things go and as he watched Shoto turn around, his legs taking him god knows where. Midoriya ran after him, Shoto ignored the chase and left. He ignored the calls of his name as he exited the agency. He had to come up with a new plan. His hands found comfort in his pockets as he tried to blend in with the darkness. He heard his name echo as he turned the corner out of view. What was there to say now. If he told Midoriya what his plan was then he would try to stop him. Midoriya tried to follow but found himself in front of an alleyway of ice. He sighed pushing his hand against it. He imagined that this was the same ice that now lived in Todoroki’s heart. You were the fire that balanced it, but you were gone now.

“I wish you were here Y/n. You would know how to help him.” How ironic to need a dead person’s help when they were technically the cause of the problem. Even more ironic was while this occurred you were very much alive, asleep with your book still clutched in your hand blissfully unaware of Shoto’s unraveling mental state and morals.

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“Good morning doll.” Usually you’d snap at Dabi for his pet name but you had gotten used to it. By now you were more like roommates, he paid rent and shopped while you did everything else. You’d never admit to being used to this life but somehow another week had passed giving you no other choice. You followed every news cast and read every paper that came out hoping to read that Endeavor had died or been critically injured. It was cruel but necessary to survive and return to Shoto. Except the disappointment had to kick in after a week of nothing. No murder or injuring occurred. You started to think maybe Dabi didn’t have as strong a hold as he thought, worst case you thought Shoto didn’t care anymore. Maybe he had given up on you. A smack to your arm caught your attention as Dabi hit you before thrusting the newest paper toward you. You snatched it up faster than he could blink. He scoffed at your pathetic gesture. He had started hating watching your face fill with hope only to be disappointed by more hero news and never any good old fashion bad news. Your mood would drop and maybe a few tears would slip away. He wasn’t irritated with you, no he hated how you did this to yourself. He knew this wasn’t paradise and that playing dead was draining. He just wished that you could relax more. He had seen your smile and heard you laugh and those moments stayed with him. He watched you now waiting. You never cried, instead you crumpled the paper. You threw it on the ground before leaving the small kitchen table. You fled the room with what seemed like betrayal and anger. The bathroom door slammed shut. This was new, not the usual reaction, now he had to read the paper. It was crumpled and torn slightly in parts but he could read it, however there was really no reason to read it when the front cover was a large candid shot of pro hero Shoto smiling with his arm around some upstart, some young female sidekick. The picture must have hurt you but Dabi knew that it was faked. The smile never reached the heroes eyes. They were dead with you. The girl was all too happy to be getting a photo with Shoto. It was publicity, the media trying to make things interesting again. The article headline read Pro Hero Shoto Mending His Broken Heart With New Love Interest? Dabi actually laughed at how pathetic it was. He continued to read about this new girl and Shoto’s love for her. It mentioned her story about how she always looked up to Shoto, how he made her strive to work harder. Shoto couldn’t be bothered to comment. Dabi leaned back in his chair smirking. This was a part of someone’s plan, whether or not it was Endeavors pathetic attempt at changing the narrative or Shoto’s attempt at distracting the media while he goes after his true goal. Either way someone was pulling the strings with this little media shake up. Dabi chucked the paper onto the table not caring for its fake news. He knew what needed to be done and he didn’t like it.

A knock on the bathroom door brought you away from the storm of thoughts brewing. You had been under the, now cold, faucet for a while now. Two things were prominent in your thoughts, killing your fiancé or the girl who dared claim him. You weren’t stupid, you could put two and two together, they weren’t actually romantic interest. However, that didn’t stop you from imagining showing up at his agency with hells fury behind you. You could imagine the pure fear that people would have watching a dead girl attempt to kill her widow. If you didn’t go after him, you’d find this girl and make her regret the day she thought she could have him. You weren’t dead so watching him potentially move on made your blood boil. He got to live like a normal human while you were trapped. You were stuck enclosed in the same rooms till god knows when. You clenched your fist aware of the missing digit, another thing you lost because of this whole mess that shouldn’t have involved you. Another knock brought your attention to the door. The water stopped as your prune fingers turned the faucet off. You let your back fall against the cold tile before slipping to the tub. You refused to cry because he didn’t deserve your tears right now. No matter the truth, you were pissed at him. No tears or tight chest, just pure unadulterated anger. Dabi finally opened the door not caring if you’d yell at him. He went to pull the curtain aside but was stopped. Your fingers gripped it tightly to prevent it from moving. “What do you want Dabi.”

“I want you doll.” A scoff could be made out behind the curtain. You rolled your eyes but he only heard your sound. He leaned against the warm and slightly damp wall waiting for a witty response or reply of disgust. You remained quiet. “I want you to get off the shower floor and get some clothes on. I got a surprise waiting for you.”

With nothing left to say Dabi left you alone. You had low expectation when it came to a surprise from your kidnapper. Hell at least Belle was given a castle and had company in the form of talking dishware. A literal beast was outdoing Dabi, but that was to be expected since fairy tales were fake and Dabi wasn’t a prince. You didn’t rush to get ready which was fine by Dabi. He sat on the couch waiting with all the necessary parts of his gift. Once you dried off and had clothing on you walked into the living room. You didn’t get to far before a bag was thrown at you. Eyes wide you move quickly to catch it before it could hit you or the ground. In the bag was a strange variety of items, that separate made no sense but together made a brilliant gift. With raised brows you pull out the first item which is a wig, with hair color different then your actual hair color, that looks so real you almost check for scalp pieces. Dabi gestures for you to keep going. With the wig on the table you pull out a small case, in it a pair of contacts that were very different from your actual eye color. The gifts were staring to create more questions and concern than pleasure or happiness. The next few items were miscellaneous pieces of clothing, all dark clothed and plain enough that they would bring attention to you. A scarf and glasses also appeared from the bottom of the bag. The only theory that you could piece together made you laugh at how ridiculous it was. The more you looked at the items on the table together the more you realized that maybe it wasn’t ridiculous. You look at Dabi skeptically as you point to the confusing surprise. “What the hell is this.”

“It’s a disguise.” Your heart stopped for a second. Could this really be happening? You look at him with pleading eyes begging for this to be real and not some kind of sick joke or trick. “You’re gonna need it to leave the apartment.”

There was no way that this was real. You must have died for real. You suck in a breath, holding it in while your chest shakes with your shoulders. You are trying to prevent yourself from crying. You still refused to believe this cruel trick. The costume pieces sat staring at you, this was farfetched. Dabi was expecting more excitement, to be praised, he should have expected that you would be skeptical.  Instead of criticizing you he walks up next to before smacking your back. “Go get ready I’m not waiting all day.”

“Yes okay, I’ll be right back. You are not allowed to change your mind!” You had never moved so fast before in your life. Before being kidnapped you would have spent a good amount of time preparing to go out, especially with Shoto but right now you were throwing everything on with haste. You pulled on a pair of black leggings and over those a simple enough deep blue skirt. It was above your knees and for a moment you felt like a high schooler again. The top was long sleeve and didn’t matter because a hoodie went right over it. The hoodie wasn’t bulky and instead was light weight and thinner. The hood was most likely to hide your face if necessary. The wig was most likely the most expensive item because it was definitely not a costume one. You had to giggle since it looked like you were cosplaying. Your contact covered eyes stared back at you in the mirror, your fingers ran through the wig. You didn’t look like you and this made you feel like you were being reborn. You were still Y/n and yet the girl that stared back wasn’t her. You were dead and this girl was alive, it was almost riveting. When you walked out of the bathroom Dabi looked you over, he smirked nodding with a look that told you he was impressed. You pretended like you didn’t care but you did. A little good attention wasn’t bad to want. You were starved for it so it was no shock that you didn’t shy away from his. You walked toward the door but he was faster blocking the exit. Your heart dropped thinking he was going to laugh and tell you this was a joke. Instead he placed the fake glasses onto your face. “There are a few rules your gonna have to follow.”

Relief washed over you as your fingers brushed the cool metal that framed the fake lenses. You listen to ever word. The basic rules were to not speak to or look at anyone long enough to be recognized, you weren’t allowed to use your quirk and if any heroes tried to approach you were to act shy and hide your face. You had a lot of rules about hiding your identity and yet here was the most recognizable villain ever. He smirked knowing you felt he was being hypocritical.

“Don’t worry Doll, I got someone for this.” He motioned toward his own face where his skin was held together by staples. You nodded not knowing exactly what he would do but not really caring. You got to leave and that was the most thrilling thing ever. He opened the door and you felt the cold hallway air hit your exposed skin, which wasn’t much. A giggle escapes as Dabi holds his hand out for you to take. You grab it with vigor ready to be alive again, even if it was just for a moment.  

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You had no idea how he did it but Dabi looked like a normal person. Well normal to society. Personally, you didn’t mind how he looked. He took you another apartment in the same building. He walked in and walked out without staples or scars. The quick explanation he gave was that the persons quirk helped change how someone’s appearance looks to others. Sure, enough your fingers touched his face and you could feel the staples even though you couldn’t see them. Amazement, you were amazed at this quirk before you realized the quirk could have been used on you and you wouldn’t have needed to wear the get up. Dabi knew what you were thinking when you side glanced him.

“Don’t look at me like that doll. This was expensive, much more expensive than your get up. You can wear a costume; I can’t really cover this up.” You hadn’t even thought about him having to have paid for the quirk users help. Of course, in an underground world someone gets money any way they can. You laugh at his comment about covering up his face. You walk in front of him turning, your skirt swirls around with you as your fingers brush his cheek. Your eyes hold so much kindness. “You don’t need to cover up. I think your face is perfect.”

Dabi blinks, he doesn’t really know what to say. Mostly because he never mentioned being ashamed of his scars openly. He was though. He hated how he looked but lived with it since it was his choice, technically he was forced into something so dramatic by his abusive father. You didn’t need to compliment him; you didn’t owe him a smile. You were really a peculiar person. His arm slowly lifts before a flick is administered to your forehead. Your hand quickly moves to rub the spot while you face scrunches. “How sweet you think I’m covering up because I’m ashamed when really it’s because I’m a wanted criminal. I do appreciate it sweetheart. Better watch out, I know you’re touch starved but falling for your captor is kind of cliché. No Stockholm syndrome allowed here.”

Your face went from discomfort to embarrassed. You rush after him as he walks away with a cocky grin. You hit his shoulder before walking next to him.

“I would never fall for you.”

“I know because you have your AmaZinG Shoto you love so much.” You hear Shoto’s name and feel angry again. You grab Dabi’s hand, holding it while you both leave the apartment building. He laughs knowing that you had nothing to say because it was a touchy subject. The moment you both felt the cool fall air blow by the anger you feel dissolves replaced with excitement. You are free, this was what a caged bird feels when it gets to spread its wings. You didn’t even care that you had no idea where this was. Your legs moved you off the front steps of the neglected building and you spun around on the sidewalk. Dabi laughed while his hands pushed into his pockets. He walked onto the sidewalk after you. You stopped spinning turning to him with an appreciative smile. He didn’t deserve it but he accepted it. His hand gestures forward and you grab onto him once again. You link arms with him making him raise a brow. You don’t care about his reaction because you aren’t going to let anything take away your happiness. You let him lead the way, walking passed rundown buildings and sketchy people. You don’t want to judge but it definitely wasn’t a part of town you would have been found in prior to dying. The dirty sidewalks, seedy businesses, and rundown buildings soon enough turn to crowded sidewalks and streets, large and small businesses, and hero agencies. Oh god, you looked down as you passed an agency you didn’t recognize. Dabi laughs because most kidnapped people would go screaming the first sign of ‘help’ while you were acting like you were also a wanted criminal. You looked away from the looming agency building and around the street. People walked right by you never even questioning who you were. They didn’t care. You weren’t Y/n right now, just a stranger. Dabi didn’t understand how you felt so content with being around strangers. He didn’t understand because he didn’t like people and they didn’t tend to like him. Watching you intrigued him, you didn’t run away, you hadn’t stopped smiling, and you hadn’t mentioned Shoto.

“Da-Um Dante, can we get something to drink?” You almost said his name but stopped quickly changing it to the first thing you could think of. This fake name amused Dabi causing him to smirk, not only that but he was also smirking because you asked for a drink. He wanted so badly to tease you but for some reason couldn’t find himself doing so. “Sure, doll.”

“Let’s go to that café, I want something warm with whipped cream.” Your arm released his so you could pull him along. The café wasn’t to busy and Dabi was grateful. He watched you look over the menu mouthing the items to yourself. The cashier called you forward asking your order. You ordered a large hot chocolate with extra whipped cream. The cashier smiled at your simple order before looking at Dabi.

“And would your boyfriend like something as well.” Boyfriend? Your face scrunched up like you had just smelled a soiled diaper. Dabi couldn’t hold back the laugh that escaped. The cashier could have thought you were siblings but of course you had to be dating him. Before you could comment about him not being your boyfriend he stepped forward, his arm going around your waist to help pull you to his side. He leans closer to the counter. “I’ll have a black coffee.”

“Da-” Before you could say his real name by accident his grip tightened and he gave you a look that warned you. You pouted before pulling away. He paid as you went off to find a table. You found on in a corner against the window, which was exciting to you because you could watch the people. Dabi found you daydreaming, your head in your hand while your eyes watched some high school students taking pictures together.

“God, they look stupid, poor uninformed youth. Little do they know what the pitiful future holds.” You stared across at him as he looked at the teens with a completely opposite viewpoint. A cream packet hit Dabi prompting him to bring his attention back at you. You were displeased with his commentary. “Really? Because that’s truly how everyone’s life is destined to turn out. I’d like to believe that those kids are going to grow up and enjoy life, they might change the world or make a big difference. I know you have your reasons to not enjoy life but that doesn’t mean everyone is going down the same path. Everyone deserves a chance to be happy.”

“Hit a nerve, did I?” Dabi had almost forgotten that you both came from different worlds. While you believed in hope, he had none. Hope was for children, for fools. You however knew the cruelties of the world and still help onto the sliver of hope you had left. These kids were you. They laughed and you remembered when you were their ages, laughing with your own friends. Now you were trapped, a prisoner of your own accord. Regardless you did not find him funny or charming. “Such a prick.”

“Never said I was anything else.” He was annoying and arrogant but honest. He never pretended he was a gentleman; you chose to believe he could be one. You couldn’t argue with him. It also wasn’t worth ruining your time outside the apartment. This outing was yours not his.

“Your drinks.” You thanked the barista who dropped off your order. You held the cup a gentle smile crossing your lips. Dabi didn’t touch his drink, instead he was watching the people outside. His own thoughts bringing him to think about your future. He wasn’t planning on keeping you around forever but his plan was working slowly. You were now intertwined with his life. He thought about you every time he left the apartment. You could have escaped but you hadn’t even tried. It was like his promise to release you was good enough to calm you, to make you trust him. His eyes watched you through the window, your reflection seen from his angle. The way you licked the whipped cream from your lips caught his attention. He looked beyond your reflection and at the people passing, not wanting to get to invested in watching you. He wondered how long you’d spend running around the city till he’d have to drag you back.

----------------------------------

six hours had come and gone and yet to you it was minutes. You had missed the fresh air, the sunlight dancing on your skin, and the chatter of people around you. You had actually had conversations with strangers, you spoke to people and they spoke with you. It was thrilling and yet as the sun started setting you knew that it would be ending soon. Your face fell with your shoulders at the idea of going back. Dabi would have went back by now but you wanted to stay out and this was all for you. He drank the subpar coffee, walked the crowded stores, ate overpriced food, and even let you get close to people and conversate despite the risk. The streetlights turned on and it seemed even more people were out. Dabi’s phone was vibrating against his leg, his hand reached into his pocket to pick it up. You were watching one of the TV sets that was playing a news station. He hesitated before disappearing down an empty alleyway to answer the call.

“I told you not to call me today.” The irritation was clear in Dabi’s a statement.

“I’m well aware of what you told me it’s just that we have a problem.”

“What problem is to big for pro hero hawks that he has to call a villain to get help from.”

“Shoto.”

There was a brief moment of silence, tension in the air and through the phone. Dabi thought things were moving slowly so now he was sure that the pro’s need for revenge was dwindling. The sidekick in the photo came to mind. Maybe there were to many distractions, maybe he needed a push in the right direction. A reminder of his loss.

“What’s the problem.”

“He hasn’t been coming by endeavors agency and I haven’t seen much of him even in the district. He might be planning something but currently he is avoidant of his father and thus is getting in the way of the plan.”

Dabi was right, but of course he was right, brother’s intuition. This was beyond irritating news but he was already formulating a plan. That plan needed to happen, now. He could hear the phone move away from his informant, hawks, followed by whispering. The person speaking in the background had no idea that their precious hero was helping destroy the current number one. Dabi hung up the call and texted hawks a brief warning. Looked like it was time to send you home. The moment he left the alleyway he found you were gone. Of course, you were gone. He disappeared without telling you where he was going. Hell, he wouldn’t be shocked if you finally gathered the courage and common sense to run away. Before he could even begin to question your whereabouts, he saw you. You were leaning against a clothing store with your hands held in front of you. A stray tear was making its way down your cheek as you looked into the night sky above. The lights and clouds forming made it hard to see any stars. Dabi walked through the crowds of people with only you in his sights. Why were you crying? His hand reached for you but retracted immediately when he watched someone else catch your tear. His body stood frozen amongst a group of business men while his worst fear surfaced.  

“Are you okay? I saw you and couldn’t help coming over here. You look so sad, familiar and sad.” Standing in front of you, so close his breath touched your face, was red riot. He was in disguise just like you were but not as intense. He wore a hoodie to cover his hair which was down instead of spiked. A mask hid his rows of shark like teeth and his casual clothing made his build less noticeable. You knew who he was even before you looked at him. His voice laced with concern and care was more familiar than his looks to you. He wasn’t a close friend but if you were friends with Eijiro Kirishima he thought the world of you, would die or kill for you. He was ride of die and right now he was talking to a dead friend with no clue. Your throat tightened and fear pulsed through your veins. Fear of being caught? Dabi taught you that, that being caught was bad, that if this plan didn’t happen then things would end up so much worse. Fear wasn’t the only thing you felt. You wanted to lean into his hand when it caught your tears. You yearned for his attention, for physical contact from a past that seems so far away regardless of how much time it had really been. You look into his kind crimson eyes and realize that maybe he was trying to figure out who you were. He looked curious but there was a hint of confusion. He was wondering why you were familiar and the only thought he had made no sense. If you talked, he would figure it out. You were literally stuck between a rock and a hard place.

“I…” You didn’t have to speak because someone else spoke up instead. Dabi’s hand yanked you away from the wall and into his side. He turned you till your chest was pressed into his own, hiding your familiar features away from the prying heroes’ eyes. He knew that his own self was way more familiar but with this quirk hiding his distinct features he didn’t worry about getting caught.  Dabi’s piercing stare causes Kirishima to back up, his hands raised in surrender.

“Are you bothering my girlfriend.” Dabi’s voice was distinct and yet when he spoke, he sounded like someone else. He had spoken with a deep growl that fit his usual tone but something was off. Somehow, he wasn’t Dabi talking. You couldn’t be offended by his words since he was saying them to save the both of you. Yet deep down you weren’t disgusted or offended, instead hearing him growl with a twinge of overprotective jealousy made your heart skip a beat. The way he held onto you in a tight possessive manner made you almost fall for the false title as his girlfriend.

“I didn’t mean any harm. I saw her crying and she seemed sad so I wanted to make sure she was okay… She reminded me of a friend I recently lost.” Kirishima was never the type to make trouble but he did find himself stumbling upon it quite often. He sounded sincere and didn’t want Dabi to get the wrong idea. You knew Dabi didn’t actually believe you were being harassed; he was preventing you both from getting involved in something that would jeopardize everything. The part that really hit you hard was his last sentence. You reminded him of you. He approached you hoping to ease your pain but also because he wished you were the real thing. The harsh reality being that you were the real you and he wasn’t allowed to know that. He was mourning you as well and he wanted to look into your eyes and see the girl that used to go drinking with the Bakusquad. Instead he saw your glossy tear covered contacts. He saw the fake you and was reminded that people don’t just come back from the dead. You had to bite your bottom lip to prevent yourself from running to him, to prevent a slip up just because you wanted to give him reassurance. Dabi’s grip on you tightened, as if he knew what you were contemplating. “She’s fine, just got lost in the crowd. Thanks for the worry but we must get going. Sorry about your friend.”

“Hey!” As Dabi turned away from Kirishima to walk away with you, a voice called out to the red head. Your body got tense and Dabi recognized it as he jolted his head back toward the hero. Bakugou was in his own shitty disguise walking toward his best friend. Kirishima was a good boy, someone who wouldn’t harass strangers, Bakugou wasn’t the same way. If he thought you were familiar, he would interrogate you. Dabi was ready to use his quirk to escape if needed, ideally he would prefer not to. “Come on shitty hair, let’s go.”

“Sorry… I forgot we were supposed to meet up. I saw this girl and she reminded me of Y/n.” Dabi was already pulling you away again the moment he realized Bakugou hadn’t noticed the two of you. The crowd started to swallow you up but you could still make out what Kirishima had sadly spoken, you also heard Bakugou’s response. “Idiot, she’s dead. You gotta stop looking for her, you’re starting to act like Icy Hot.”

You let yourself be dragged down streets and away from the lit-up buildings. Your day had already faded to night and now you knew where you were headed. Dabi was obviously taking you home and surprisingly you didn’t mind. It had been fun but, after hearing your former friends talk about you as if you were a ghost, the fun dissipated into self-loathing. At some point Dabi wasn’t holding your arm anymore, instead you followed slightly behind him as he led you back. He would have told you that it was time to return but he knew that you were well aware. Your mood had soured and he wasn’t going to contribute more than he had. The apartment building was dark when you arrived outside it. You would easily enough deem it an abandoned building had you not been living here. Dabi held the front door open for you allowing you to walk through the doorway and into the hallway with the flickering yellow bulbs. Dabi walked behind you occasionally telling you where to turn, until you got to the apartment. He let you inside and went to apologize but you had already started heading to your bedroom. He planned on leaving immediately but that didn’t happen. He followed you inside, his phone discarded on the table as it attempted to interrupt him.

“Did you have a good day?” You stopped outside the bedroom door and thought about the hours outside these walls. Despite how it ended you did have fun. Hell, you had a blast just being out in the fresh air, surrounded by people and bustling buildings. It was sad that you found satisfaction in freedom but who wouldn’t after living their life locked up for an undetermined amount of time. A small smile graced your lips as you pulled off the wig. You held it in your hand as your hair settled down back against your face. You turned and looked your captor, friend? in the eyes.

“I had a good day, thank you Dabi.” You open the bedroom door before disappearing into the room leaving Dabi a little surprised by your answer. His shoulders shake when he starts laughing. He really had no idea what to think of you. He walked away from the door calling out to you that he was leaving. Without a response from you he left. You didn’t cry once you were alone. Instead you sat on the floor with your head in your hands replaying the boy’s words. Kirishima thought you were familiar, Bakugou had to remind him that you were dead and yet you were pulling a fast one on them. Had it been Shoto would he have known? Would he instantly know despite the layers of disguise? Would Midoriya have known it was you. Would he have chased you down? These words meant nothing because there was no way to test if this would happen. Had Shoto shown himself on the crowded street Dabi would have taken you home immediately. He didn’t find the others a threat, Shoto was a pawn so of course him seeing you was a threat.

Bzzt bzzt bzzt. The sound of vibrating could be heard coming from the living room. An eyebrow raised as you sat up, getting off the floor. Had Dabi not actually left? You dragged yourself down the hall finding that you were alone in the apartment. The only thing out of place was Dabi’s phone sitting on the table. The entire time you had been here Dabi hadn’t let his phone out of his sight. You wondered if this was a trap as you approached it. The screen was lit up and you saw a text waiting to be read. The missed call notification was below the text box. You read the contact name. You didn’t have to decipher the insulting nickname; You knew that the person trying to get ahold of Dabi was Hawks. You unlocked his phone, you had seen the code before when he hadn’t realized you were watching, the text popped up. You tried to ignore snooping through the previous messages and instead opted to read only the ones that had just arrived.

[I know you already have your mind set on this but maybe rethink this. I don’t think it’s going to go the way you want it to.]

[Are you ignoring my calls on purpose?]

[You can’t kill Shoto’s new sidekick. It messes up your plan against Endeavor.]

[Shoto just left the agency…]

The words reflected off your drying eyes as you read through the texts. Your heart had started racing as you read what his intensions were tonight. What had led him to this decision? Had you contributed to his idea to kill her. You didn’t want to be the reason an innocent life was taken even if you held hatred for her that very morning. This couldn’t be happening. Had Dabi had his phone would the texts change his mind. Had you known his plan prior to him leaving would you have been able to stop him. Your grip on his cell tightened as you decided what needed to done. You hadn’t taken off your disguise, it was dark outside, and you had a shit ton of adrenaline coursing through you. You held onto the phone as you ran out the door making sure it locked before you disappeared down the dully lit hallway. The outside world was much darker and colder than it had been earlier. You had no idea where to look for him but you realized that he might have mentioned a location. You checked back through the texts but found no location, instead a lot of conversations about Endeavors demise and Shoto’s involvement. You went to the internet looking for answers to where the sidekick could be. You found a tweet the showed a picture that had been taken ten minutes prior. The photo had the girl posing with a large electric building clock in the background. You knew where this was and the time gave you an idea of how long ago this was actually taken. You hoped you’d make it in time. You were suddenly hit with the fear that Dabi wouldn’t hesitate to hurt you if you tried to stop him. You let the fear settled in your stomach while your legs sent you flying down streets. People looked at you like you were crazy and the funny thing was you were thinking the same thing. You were crazy, this was all insane. The craziest part being your conflict over whether you were doing this to save an innocent girl or because you didn’t want Dabi getting caught. A groan of frustration left you as you found the building the photo was taken in front of. Your legs were throbbing from running. You were curious as to why a sidekick under Endeavor would be so far from their district. You looked around while overthinking everything. You needed to figure out where she would go and where Dabi would ambush her. An alley would be his primary choice and there were plenty of those around. You ran around asking people if they had seen her, using Dabi’s phone to show the picture. People thought you were some crazed fan before pointing you off in different directions. Eventually you felt defeated, like all this was for nothing. What if Dabi had realized his phone was missing and went back to get it. He would definitely be on his way to kill you. The alternative thought was that the girl was already dead. Your feet begged for you to stop walking. You just about gave up when the most putrid smell hit you. Your hands covered your nose and mouth. You gagged. The smell brought you closer and closer to the truth. You followed it knowing what it was. The smell of charred flesh, burning hair, boiling blood. The smell of overcooked organs and crackling bones.

“Dear god.” You found her. You found her the exact way you hoped not to. What was left of her corpse was enough to identify her. Her teeth could be seen since her lips and the skin around them was burned away. Her gums had burns as well, her tongue was nonexistent. Her eyes seemed to have boiled but you could still make out her warped irises. He didn’t burn away all of her hair; you could see slight strands sticking to what skin remained on her scalp. Her body was worse off. You couldn’t look at her any longer. You turned sobbing into the same hands that prevented the smell from invading your nose. You could prevent the smell from getting stuck in your nose. You would remember this smell for the rest of your life, her burnt corpse would live in the darkest recesses of your mind. Your legs were starting to lose their ability to remain standing. You wanted nothing more than to escape this hellscape you had searched for. You glanced back again at her before quickly looking away again. Sobs slipped out as you mourned her, a stranger who this morning you wished didn’t exist. It was ironic really. You could help but blame yourself. “I’m so sorry… I didn’t want this to happen.”

You showered yourself in blame but the reality was that Dabi needed Shoto to remember you, to remember his need for revenge, and in order to achieve that Shoto needed to be reminded what you had supposedly gone through. Except you were actually alive and this girl wasn’t. You finally snapped out of it enough to want to leave. Dabi was obviously gone which meant you were limited on time to get back before he saw you were gone. You pulled out the phone and realized there was another missed call from Hawks. You opened the voicemail and had in playing in your ear.

“Dabi! You have to get the hell out of there. She sent an emergency alert and Shoto is looking for her. He’s on his way there now.”

Fear once again crept over you as you let your arm drop down to your side. The phone light cast a shadow on the wall and revealed someone approaching. Suddenly the alleyway felt warm and yet chills engulfed your body. You turned slowly as you felt the intruder staring at you.

“Shoto…” You whispered his name, a million feelings trying to surface but all you could do was smile sadly. You never thought about the body sitting behind you and the smell no longer existed as you watched him walk closer. You were unaware of what he was thinking, what he was feeling. He was already upset that day, his anger waiting to surface and now it was bubbling out in the form of ice creeping down the alley way ground and heat burning along the walls. The light from the phone had disappeared as the screen blackened. The light was now being cast from the Shoto’s flames. The closer Shoto got the ore he could see. He was staring at a woman in a black hoodie, dark skirt, and black leggings. A woman with unfamiliar hair and eyes. He was staring at a stranger. You were a stranger standing in front of a dead body. The charred disfigured corpse of his newest sidekick. You weren’t a stranger anymore but instead a villain. This wasn’t a case of stumbling upon a dead body, No. To Shoto he had arrived late and you hadn’t left on time. You stepped to the side as if you were expecting him to walk past you. It was a mistake. He was able to see her body, your own demise came flying to the forefront of his mind. You had been a pile of ash and she was still recognizable but the two were far too similar. He looked at you and for a moment you thought he saw the real you. His hand raised and you couldn’t help smiling, imagining his hand cupping your cheek. His arms around you holding you. Instead his eyes held pain, pure unadulterated hatred. His flames danced across his body and you had no time to react as they were sent directly toward you. The alley way was blazing with fire and yet your feet were iced to the ground. There was no escape as you witnessed your fiancé look at you with the need for revenge, he wanted you dead. A sob escaped as the flames finally reached you. They dance lightly against your skin before dissipating. Red flames were now blue as a wall surrounded you. You had closed you eyes while waiting for death. You’d accepted this so easily but someone else wasn’t going to. You hadn’t realized that Dabi had come for you. When he saw Shoto he knew it wasn’t going to go the way your imagination wanted it to. He knew the broken man would try to kill you. His flames burned hotter than Shoto’s which he used to his advantage. He protected you by burning away the flames that attempted to swallow you up. His body emerged from the blue inferno. The quirk that had hid his flaws was gone. His face was back to being graphed and stapled, his eyes burned with as much hatred as Shoto’s. His hatred was conflicted, he hated Shoto for trying to hurt you and he hated himself for ever putting you in this situation. You were sobbing on your knees as you heard Shoto screaming out in frustration. Dabi laughed at his pathetic brother as he walked in front of you. His flames still wildly blazing around you, never actually touching you.

“You killed her… It was you. You killed the love of my life. That girl you’re protecting, I bet you love her. I bet you’d be destroyed of she died. I’ll take her from you. I’ll make you regret ever taking Y/n.” Shoto was fast as he rushed Dabi, but Dabi was faster to defend and retaliate. You couldn’t move as Shoto’s words echoed through you. You could feel how broken he was and all you could think about was how you were the one who did this to him. Regret burned hotter than the flames. You watched Dabi and Shoto move like a well-choreographed dance. Never hitting the other as flames and ice clashed. The wall of ice thrust in front of Dabi was shattered with a sharp punch from the raven-haired boy. Shoto moved forward while droplets of water rained down as his ice was melted. His hands finally reached Dabi as they took ahold of his throat. Dabi lifted his own hand thrusting it against the duel quirked boys face. His quirk activated causing Shoto to release him while yelling out in pain. His face wasn’t burned but it was red, irritation from the heat evident on his skin. Dabi approached him while rubbing his throat which now had hand marks on it. He stood in front of his clueless brother.

“I didn’t kill her. Endeavor killed her, just like he killed your brother. Endeavor is somewhere laughing at you as you spiral out of control. I’m having doubts that you ever loved her because if you had then he’d be dead. Had you really loved her maybe she’s be alive right now.” Dabi was letting his emotions take control as he taunted the pro hero. He wanted Shoto to hurt physically and mentally. He wanted him to suffer even after he killed endeavor and got you back. At this rate he might not even want to give you to a man that he felt didn’t deserve you. Shoto let the words settle, to dig under his skin. He wasn’t about to let Dabi get away with his statement, or any of his actions. He wasn’t going to go for the villain. He was going to go for you. His ice shot him upward giving him an advantage. Dabi was ready for the attack but it never came. Instead he became all to aware of the fact that you hadn’t fled the scene. “Dammit.”

“No hard feelings.” Shoto spoke directly to you as he dropped from his ice wall beyond the blue flames. He landed in front of you so close you could touch him. You looked up at him slowly lifting your hand toward him hoping he would take it. He slapped it away looking at you with disgust. To him you were begging for your life, looking for repentance. He had none to give you. You wanted him to looked past the contacts, through the wig. Why couldn’t he see you? You smiled sadly mouthing an I love you before closing your eyes. Tears dripped down your still burning cheeks. It was as if the next few moments happened in slow motion. Shoto moved his hand hovering above you as the fire engulfed the world around you. You felt the pain set in dragging a scream from deep within your chest. It was searing pain that didn’t fade even as the flames disappeared with the burning of Shoto’s body. The flames burned a blue so bright they were almost white. Dabi’s body burned with his quirk use. The smell of hair and skin burning once again invaded your senses and you had no idea if you were smelling yourself or one of them. Shoto was yelling out in pain while Dabi yelled with anger. The moment returned to normal speed as you heard Hawks yelling above. “SHOTO STOP!!!” Shoto looked up as well had Dabi. Immediately he knew this was his time to get the hell out of there. He ran past his brother, both men in excruciating pain. Shoto reached out to stop him but he hesitated when he heard Hawks screaming for him to back down. He could hear the sirens as he watched Dabi collect you into his arms. He was trying to put as little pressure on your new wounds as he could while carrying you. In your delirious pained state, you reached your left hand out toward him. He had to have been delirious himself because he could have sworn that the villain girl, he had just tried to kill was missing her ring finger, the same finger that was left for him.

“Y/n.” Your name slipped from his lips as you were carried away from the scene. Your eyes closed and you drifted off into a nightmare that resembled the moments that had transpired that night. Dabi brought you home cursing himself and everything around him. He punched the wall cracking it. He growled as his back hit the same wall he just punched. He didn’t understand why he wanted so badly to kill Shoto right now but he knew that it was all because of you. You were supposed to be a small pawn to get the game going, to get it closer to the climax and now you were involved deeper than he wanted. You were never supposed to get hurt, not like this. Looking at your burned skin, relieved that the burns weren’t third degree. He was able to protect you but wished he had done more. You should have been unscathed and yet you lay on the couch marked due to his own family’s mistakes.  

“I’m so sorry Y/n.” He moved to the front of the couch his hand brushing your scorched cheek. The wig had basically burned away and the contacts needed to be removed before they caused permanent damage to your eyes. A knock on the door told him that help had arrived.

--------------------

Hours had gone by and you remained in a mindscape that resembled hell. Shoto continuously killing you while you felt and watched every moment. He reminded you about how you didn’t matter to him, that he never loved you and yet his eyes said they did. It was a cruel world to be trapped in. Slowly thought that world faded and you could see a dull light behind your heavy lids. You could hear a voice gently speaking to you, apologies and promises. When you finally found the strength to open your eyes you found Dabi staring at you. His eyes looked sad but that quickly changed to shock as he realized you were awake. He smirked, or at least tried to.

“I guess true loves kiss does wake a princess.” You scoffed before attempting to slap him. You body was sore but when you saw your skin you had no burns. There were slight markings that made you think that you had been in much worse shape. Dabi was smiling at you as he sat back sighing in relief. You attempted to sit up and he was quick to move and help you. He held your back pulling you up without hurting you. You thanked him and he nodded before getting you a glass of water. He almost dropped it when he saw that you were crying. The glass was left on the coffee table as his arms reached around you. He hadn’t hugged many people in his life but he knew that it held the power to help. You clung to him sobbing into his shoulder, screaming practically. It was painful for Dabi to hear and t reminded him of his newest hatred for Shoto. His hands held you protectively, comfortingly. You held onto him crying until your throat was raw and your tear ducts dried. Eventually it was just you being gently rocked by Dabi as hiccupped sobs continued to escape.

“What do I do know Dabi. What do I do when I died for him and he tried to kill me? I used to dream of our reunion, it was beautiful and full of tears and love. Now when I close my eyes, I picture the flames, the screaming. I hear his words as he tries to kill me. I can feel the look of disgust and hatred.” You had to cover your mouth to try and stop the oncoming panic attack. You wanted to scream but couldn’t. “What do I do when all that kept me alive was the idea of being free to be me again, but the world doesn’t need me in it. He doesn’t need me. I’m a villain in his eyes and I think he might be one in mine now. What is there left for me now.”

“Stop. Please stop. I need you Y/n.” Dabi pulled you against his chest as his lips crashed into your own. A moment of pure emotion and adrenaline. He promised to himself, as his lips molded to yours, that he would make things right for you even if that meant giving up his plan.  

-------------------------------

Taglist: @flowersgirl02​ @tiredandkindaoverworked​ @ linndragneel  @tabalugax  @pikagirl1996 @hauntedclaudio

~Let me know if you wanna be added to the taglist~

[rpgmgames]

November’s Featured Game: Grimm's Hollow

DEVELOPER(S): ghosthunter ENGINE: RPG Maker 2003 GENRE: Indie RPG, Adventure WARNINGS: Discussions of death, losing a loved one, grief SUMMARY: Grimm’s Hollow is a spooky, freeware RPG where you search the afterlife for your brother. Reap ghosts with your scythe, explore haunted caves, and eat ghostly treats on your journey through death.

Download the game here! Our Interview With The Dev Team Below The Cut!

Introduce yourself! *BB: My name's Bruno and I did some of the music along with Nat! I’m super happy to have participated in this game! *NW: I’m Nat Wesley, a.k.a. Natbird! I’m a composer available for hire with a few projects in the works. I’m honored to have had the chance to work on the soundtrack to Grimm’s Hollow! *GH: Hello! I go by ghosthunter online; I started developing RPGs with a friend in school when we found out that we both enjoyed RPG Horror. I enjoy art, webcomics, cartoons and narrative-driven indie games a lot. I bought RM2K3 on sale and started pouring pixel art into it, before learning how to do things like chase scenes, cutscenes, etc. I used to fantasize about making my own game, drawing dungeons and ghosts in the back of my sketchbooks, before I finally started Grimm’s Hollow. Now I’m near the end of high-school, and I’m hoping the best for uni!

What is your project about? What inspired you to create this game initially? *GH: Grimm’s Hollow, originally, wasn’t as ambitious or personal. It was simply just going to be “my first game”, something that I could finally put my doodles and RM2K3 skills to. I wanted a game that a younger me would have enjoyed, back when I first discovered the classic RPGMaker games and replayed them constantly for those endings. That was my initial inspiration. It eventually evolved into an action turn-based RPG that relies on timing, yet it’s mostly narrative-driven. You traverse death in search of your sibling, and try to make an escape. There are unexpected pieces of me that ended up in this game, some of which I’m still noticing even now.

How long have you been working on your project? *GH: Since the summer of June 2018.

Did any other games or media influence aspects of your project? *GH: Standstill Girl, OFF by Mortis Ghost, Undertale, Over The Garden Wall, and the animation medium in general.

Have you come across any challenges during development? How have you overcome or worked around them? *GH: Many! Making your first game is such a giant learning curve, that the list of challenges goes on. I would say that the most difficult issue I encountered (and that, in some ways, I am still facing after release) is working around the limitations of the game engine I am using. I wanted to see whether creating an engaging but simple 1-party RPG in RM2K3 (without going completely custom) was feasible, and I experimented with quick time events as part of that. I worked around the engine’s built-in formulae so players could see progress when they upgraded their stats - although the game might display as defence as “10”, in reality the game stores it as 40 since the engine splits defence by 4. Since I did not want to create an RPG which was too complex for my first game, I also scrapped traditional staples such as armour or weapons. There were also issues such as having an appropriate “game over” handling event which wouldn’t shoot you back to the title screen after you lost a battle; getting RM2K3 to play a small cutscene where you faint and respawn somewhere else was tricky. I felt that if the player had to reload after a loss, it would disrupt the game flow.

Have any aspects of your project changed over time? How does your current project differ from your initial concept? *GH: Like I mentioned before, the game started off impersonal. I just had a soft spot for a spooky cute aesthetic, and I wanted to indulge in that. It was (and in its essence, still is) meant to be a short story, to keep the player invested for the short game length - nothing grandiose. The original draft did not have Baker play a role in the narrative - he was just an ordinary shopkeeper NPC. For a long time during development, Lavender did not even have a name. In the very first draft, she was a silent protagonist the player could name and customize. But she played a very active role in the final outline, so it was hard not to give her own unique voice when one emerged from the narrative naturally. I am glad I did; she grew on me quite quickly! Grimm was virtually unchanged from beginning to end. The only difference was that a close friend suggested that he seemed like he would be into drinking Oolong tea - so that’s what he offers you when you meet him. Timmy also did not go under massive overhauls like Lavender and Baker did, but his relationship with Lavender became much more fleshed out as I wrote the narrative. In other facets of the game’s design, there were not many changes to the original prototype.

What was your team like at the beginning? How did people join the team? If you don’t have a team, do you wish you had one or do you prefer working alone? *GH: It was just myself, doing the art, writing, programming, etc. But halfway through creating the second cave, I realised I would need a very specific sound for Grimm’s Hollow. So, I contacted Nat for music, but I also created a post on tumblr calling for a composer since there were many tracks to make. I met Bruno as a result! I am very happy with their work and I am so grateful I’ve got to work with them! (Some players are asking for an OST release, which is in the works).

What is the best part of developing a game? *GH: I really enjoyed the early stages of development: creating new tilesets, sprites and maps and piecing them together in the editor, then taking a small screenshot and sharing it with my friend over summer vacation … It was nice to see the game’s world slowly come together. I think that’s what I enjoyed the most from beginning to end: that sense of world-building, that sense of relaxation from making a small cosy game. The latter started to disappear as work and other responsibilities started to intrude, and pressure began to seep into development time - but I never stopped loving making the world and characters. I also want to say that, by lucky chance, I have met a lot of kind people from making my first game. I’m very grateful for that, so thank you to everyone.

Do you find yourself playing other RPG Maker games to see what you can do with the engine, or do you prefer to do your own thing? *GH: All the time! Other RPG Maker 2003 projects are great inspirations for pixel art tilesets, as well as how to code harder features such as custom menus. They’re also just fun to play.

Which character in your game do you relate to the most and why? (Alternatively: Who is your favorite character and why?) *GH: Lavender and Timmy are relatable to me in multiple ways. I can’t elaborate on Timmy since that would go into spoiler territory, but I somewhat relate to Lavender’s insistence on managing her life on her own - sometimes to her own detriment. I’d say the most fun character to write for was Grimm. He can be unintentionally silly while speaking in the most formal way, but also very caring too. Everything he does and says was easy to write, whereas I had to think harder for the interactions between everyone else - especially for very crucial scenes regarding their development. That being said, my favourite is still the game’s central two siblings. I can not pick between them for the life of me.

Looking back now, is there anything that regret/wish you had done differently? *GH: I wish I started testing even earlier! Not only does it give you a good sense of what’s missing, but seeing people enjoy what you’ve made yet get hindered by bugs is a very strong incentive to fix your game immediately. When I was lacking motivation or was stuck, I found that good feedback and support made me motivated again. I also wish that I could have pushed the deadline a little further, or perhaps released the game on Early Access since it will take me a while to refine post-release bugs - but as it is, the 31st of October really was the deadline for my game due to external circumstances (no, that deadline wasn’t just because it was Halloween!). Other than that, I wonder if using an updated version of RPG Maker would have produced the same game …? It’s hard to tell, but I hope people enjoy it for what it is - I will be working on that post-release patch soon!

Do you plan to explore the game’s universe and characters further in subsequent projects, or leave it as-is? *GH: There are no current plans, but I would be happy to have the opportunity to improve and expand on the game. As it is, the game’s released for free and done as a hobby, so I would struggle to do that by myself.

What do you most look forward to now that you have finished the game? *GH: Earlier on, I was really looking forward to players’ reactions. Games are made to be fun, and I would have felt distraught if my game didn’t achieve what it was set out to do. Yet it was not just about the gameplay; it was about the narrative. I hoped that what I found funny, the player would too; what was heartfelt to me, was heartfelt to the player as well. Like sharing a laugh, or just a good experience together. I hoped they would enjoy the feeling that went into it, despite the struggle of making it against circumstance and limitations. Now, I look forward to resting and sleeping once this over. I want to explore my other interests, improve, and explore new media. I want to relax, and refocus again like I was before the heat of development.

Is there something you’re afraid of concerning the development or the release of your game? *GH: Bugs! Some are easy to fix, but others are harder due to the limitations of the engine (e.g an error in one ending is caused by an overflow error).

Do you have any advice for upcoming devs? *GH: Show your game as early as possible, to as many people as possible. As soon as you have something playable, it’s ready for feedback. You’ll see if that game mechanic you spent hours refining works, or if it doesn’t work and why. You’ll understand what players enjoy and what they want more of, but also what they don’t like or don’t enjoy. And you will definitely encounter bugs. You’ll be able to pinpoint and fix minor problems early on that can easily become a larger issue later. You’ll be able to fine-tune your game so its best bits shine, and the difficulty is just right.

Question from last month's featured dev @dead-dreams-dev: Is there anything you’ve added to your game for no other reason than because you’re hoping fans will get a kick out of it? Fanservice, fourth wall breakage, references to other games, jokes, abilities that are just ridiculously overpowered and badass, etc? *GH: It’s hard to say; game design is trying to find the intersection between what’s good for the player, what the developer enjoys, and what’s feasible to implement. Every decision made should be conscious of that … I think a lot of the game’s early light-hearted jokes was not only made because I enjoyed it, but I hoped the player would “get a kick out of it” too. But more so, I think it’s because I would struggle to write a story which is serious and bleak from beginning to end. The game is a little self-indulgent in the narrative that way.

We mods would like to thank ghosthunter & team for agreeing to our interview! We believe that featuring the developer and their creative process is just as important as featuring the final product. Hopefully this Q&A segment has been an entertaining and insightful experience for everyone involved!

Remember to check out Grimm's Hollow if you haven’t already! See you next month! 

- Mods Gold & Platinum

[earthstellar]

It’s Deaf Awareness Week, so I’m posting my hearing disabled Drift fan fiction in full below the cut! 

I am still fundraising for my hearing aids, so if you like the story and would like to donate, you can do so at my Ko-Fi or via PayPal. 

You can also see my post on Chirolinguistics and Sign Language in Transformers media here! 

Auditory Error by Capricorn_Stellium - Word Count: 2733

Summary: 

The Lost Light visits a marketplace on a newly identified planet in the hopes of restocking on a few crucial supplies.

Unfortunately, things go less than well, and Drift is hit with some sort of energy disruptor-- Which results in processor damage.

Once everyone is back on board and clear of the fight, Ratchet and First Aid get to work attempting to assess Drift post-injury in a MedBay that is suddenly far, far too noisy.

"Stay where you are. Don't move! First Aid, get over here, get on his left side."

It was Ratchet's voice, or at least, he thought it was.

Drift was in the MedBay, so evidently they'd made it back to the Lost Light.

He quickly tried to assess himself: No missing limbs, so that's nice. Doesn't seem to be much frame damage, no evidence of blaster shots or blade damage anywhere across his armour that he could see.

Not that he could see much, as Ratchet was aggressively trying to get him to lay his helm back down flat against the medical berth.

"He's awake. Aid, titrate the sedative, I don't want him dizzy but keep it level so he's not running around." Ratchet moved to the side of the berth from where he had been standing so far, somewhere behind his helm, but it was odd. His voice seemed to come from all directions at once, and it was disorienting.

"Drift, can you focus on me? You were hit in the helm by one of the marketplace traders; Turns out Rodimus was wrong about the locals being friendly, because of course he was. Nobody else is hurt, so don't even try getting up! I don't know what they hit you with, some kind of focused disruptor of some kind. We're running additional scans to try to figure it out, but stay down for now. You aren't restrained, no painkillers. Just a mild physical sedative in the event you woke up swinging. I'm too old to keep having to fight my patients, you know."

It was bizarre; He felt totally fine. He could hear that Ratchet was speaking, but the words were... Missing, here and there. All of the sounds in the room were equally as loud, completely drowning each other out. It was overwhelming and disorienting.

He'd been in the MedBay enough times both as a patient and just waiting for Ratchet to get off shift that he was well aware it shouldn't sound like this. It was as if every piece of machinery was at maximum volume and surely Ratchet was whispering, but why would he be whispering? Was there something else going on? Was Ratchet's vocaliser damaged somehow? Why would Ratchet lie about the situation, unless it was serious?

Ratchet noticed Drift's increasingly heavy frown; He looked fairly alert, but confused. Running another quick diagnostic scan, nothing new was coming up. Drift had been concussed, he'd already known about that. The more extensive diagnostic panel wouldn't be complete for another minute or two.

"Aid, I told you to moderate--" First Aid interrupted by holding up what was the needle end of a clearly disconnected fuel line drip.

"He's not being sedated actively at all anymore, Ratchet. It should work it's way out of his systems soon, low level dose should remain for the next three to five hours but not significantly enough to produce a frame relaxing effect. Intensive scan is just about ready, give it a moment. We'll figure it out."

Ratchet huffed. He was proud of his star apprentice, but it was irritating to get blatant reassurance from a junior doctor.

Not that First Aid was wrong to comment; It was hard to administer emergency care to your own conjunx. In other circumstances, it would never be allowed at all, but the Lost Light was a perpetual mess. A good mess, most of the time. But still not quite as organised as some might prefer-- A fact that Ultra Magnus never let anyone forget.

Speaking of Magnus, the paperwork for this would be a nightmare, but Ratchet had other concerns on his mind.

Drift raised a servo to his faceplate, careful not to lift his helm lest Ratchet come after him again. "I... feel okay, I think. But I never had a concussion that made everything sound so... I don't know. Things sound wrong all of a sudden."

Ratchet and First Aid looked at each other from across their respective sides of the medical berth. Aid pulled out a data pad and began taking notes once Ratchet nodded in the affirmative to proceed.

"What do you mean? Can you describe what you're feeling?"

Drift ex-vented. "Physically, totally fine. Not even a headache, really. Everything else seems okay, but it's like... Everything is at the same volume, and is coming from everywhere all the time. I can hardly make out what you and Aid are saying, every other word is gone, it's easier for me to focus on the vague sort of rhythm of the noises you're making rather than what you're actually talking about. Like the words are messed up and lost in the sounds of everything else. But, I don't know. It's like everything is a flood of noise, except for speech, I guess? Keep talking to me, I'll figure it out."

It was Ratchet's turn to frown. "Hmm." He backed up a little from the side of the berth. "Drift, can you shutter your optics for a second? I won't touch you, but I want you to listen as best you can, okay?" Drift nodded, wondering what Ratchet was up to.

Closing his optics felt awful; It made the noises seem even louder and more all-encompassing, somehow. Hopefully this wouldn't take long. He was glad Ratchet had kept him on the berth; It was a dizzying sensation. Like the noise was giving him vertigo.

"I'm going to snap my digits in different areas and at different distances from your helm. I want you to tell me where you hear the sound in relation to yourself, so for example, upper left from your point of view, or lower right, or straight ahead. Okay?"

Drift nodded, hoping he'd heard the instructions correctly. It was suddenly much harder to fill the gaps in Ratchet's speech when he couldn't watch his faceplate while he was speaking.

The exam went on for a while until finally Ratchet snapped his digits for the last time to Drift's righthand side, but Drift stated the sound was coming from straight ahead and slightly above his helm.

"Maybe a little to the right?" He could hear Ratchet ex-vent, but from where, he couldn't tell. "Nope. Open your optics, Drift. Sorry to say you didn't exactly pass that test." He turned to face First Aid, who had apparently been following along and taking quite a few notes.

Turns out both of them were stood exactly where they were when the exam had started. Weird. To Drift, it had seemed like their intermittent words were floating around him while his optics had been shuttered. Had they moved at all, the entire time?

The noise of all the medical machinery was getting awful. How were Ratchet and Aid okay with it?

Then he realised they probably couldn't hear it. Somehow...

Ratchet's voice knocked him out of the state of distress he was rapidly falling into the more he tried to think about all the noise. "Aid, note a general lack of directional hearing. No loss of hearing overall, his audials are registering sound as usual, but..."

First Aid looked up from the data pad. "But the way his processor is interpreting the sounds he's hearing is wrong."

"Correct. It's processor damage. Damn."

Drift had missed what was probably a very important word, there. "Sorry, what kind of damage?"

Ratchet, to his credit, only looked upset for a very brief moment. But Drift could tell; He could always tell with his Ratty. And that look was never good.

"Sorry, Drift. We shouldn't talk about you like you aren't here, anyway; It's a bad habit medics can develop."

That got a small smile out of Drift. "Since when are you worried about bad medic habits? You routinely throw wrenches at your patients."

"Hey, that's usually only Whirl. And Rodimus. And..." Ratchet took one of Drift's servos into his own. "Fine, you have a point, but this is serious. We need to run more tests. And by more, I mean you're going to be in here for a while."

Drift nodded, not wanting to speak himself lest it break his intense concentration on Ratchet's intake. It definitely seemed like trying to follow Ratchet's faceplate movements made it easier to guess what words he was missing.

The words he could no longer hear. For some reason.

It was only years of experience performing various mindfulness meditations that prevented Drift's anxiety from escalating.

First Aid walked towards the foot of the medical berth to be more fully in Drift's line of sight before addressing him.

And he proceeded to say something that Drift totally missed, because First Aid's battle mask made it impossible to read his faceplates in the way that he could with Ratchet.

"Uh... I don't want to interrupt? But two things: Aid, can you retract your mask?" Both First Aid and Ratchet stiffened immediately.

"I'm so sorry--" "Drift, if you can't understand us, just say so and we can--"

And it was too much noise.

Instinctively, his servos flew up to cover his audials, which hadn't helped as much as he had hoped it might.

"Stop! Stop, I'm sorry, it's okay. Don't worry about it. But the second thing, is that it's way, way too much in here. The noise, I mean. It's a lot."

Ratchet gently grabbed Drift's wrists, getting closer in the process.

"The scan we were running has finished by now. Aid, turn off everything we're not currently using, let's see if it makes a difference in the ambient noise level. Go ahead and start interpreting the results, construct a summary, you know what to do."

As First Aid got started as directed, looking somewhat upset that he hadn't thought to retract his battle mask earlier, Ratchet moved in even closer to speak directly into Drift's audial.

On the other side of Drift's helm, he cupped a servo over the opposite audial to help block out the surrounding noise and force Drift's processor to focus on the most immediate input: His voice. "I'm sorry. I'll try to make this as easy on you as I possibly can, okay? We're not hearing things the way you are, so we'll have to figure this out as we go. But that's fine; You're okay... You will be okay."

Vision obscured by Ratchet's shoulder armour while intensely trying to focus on his voice, suddenly, it hit Drift.

He could hear, but he couldn't hear. Not really.

A thousand scenarios flooded him at once, each one more terrifying than the last.

Being in a battle, unable to tell where bullets were coming from. Hearing a ship-wide alarm go off, and being incapacitated by the noise, unable to react otherwise. Unable to help. Unable to protect Ratchet. Never being able to parse anyone's speech, always missing words, never having all the information.

Going to a racetrack and being disoriented by the hum of all the wheels and engines at high speed, causing an accident. Anywhere noisy, anyone talking. Anywhere sound exists, it would be too much or not enough and never in-between.

He couldn't fight effectively. He wouldn't able to communicate effectively, not if he constantly misheard every single thing. The stress just from the MedBay noise was horrendous; What about in the middle of a conflict, or the command deck, or even someplace like Swerve's? Totally unbearable.

He would go right back to being isolated. He would be a problem for others. A burden, an annoyance.

What if this wasn't fixable?

He gasped like he had been choking, causing Ratchet to startle and pull back. "Ratchet! Ratchet, Ratty, what if-- What if you can't fix me?"

And he knew that look.

He felt Ratchet's arm move slightly somewhere behind him, and First Aid swiftly and silently left; He would finish looking over the results in his own office space. Ratchet had probably flashed some kind of medic secret code hand signal or something.

Or maybe it was just awkward to watch your mentor's partner start crying in your shared workplace. It was probably that, and the thought would have made Drift laugh if he didn't suddenly have a terrible headache.

Ratchet made the most of his wide set medical frame type, and completely wrapped Drift in a hug.

It helped. Everything seemed like too much right now, but this, he could never possibly get enough of.

Fluid had pooled behind his optics; Some started to trickle down in small streams. Ratchet wiped some of it away gently.

"Drift, I'm not going to lie. I already know what those scan results are going to say; There's nothing wrong with you, aside from whatever is going wrong with your processor. And I'm going to be honest, because you know I don't lie when it comes to my diagnostics... If I'm right about the nature of your processor damage, it's most likely not something that can be repaired."

Even though on some level he figured that might be the case, it felt like Ratchet had jammed the Great Sword through his spark.

Before he had the chance to completely break down, Ratchet carefully grabbed the sides of Drift's helm, gently rubbing soft swirls in his faceplate and ensuring Drift didn't just fold in on himself and completely collapse.

He wanted Drift to be able to understand; Keeping his helm up like this would help Drift read his faceplate, too.

"I know. It's not good news. But we can work with it. You can work with it. We'll figure it out. If we don't have the supplies we need to make whatever assistive device we might have to come up with, we'll find a way to get them, or make them. You have me, Perceptor, Brainstorm, a whole ship full of people who can and will help you. Okay?"

Drift wanted to nod, he really did, but the tears welling up in his optics had blurred his vision, and the thought of being unable to see clearly while being unable to hear clearly was so completely distressing to him that he simply threw his arms around Ratchet's neck strut and let himself cry it out.

Not for long, and not very hard; He found that the sound of his own crying was odd and grating to his audials, both muted and sharper than it should have been.

While he could stifle his tears, he couldn't stop his upset and frustration from seeping out through his EM field.

Ratchet's armour plating shivered a bit, before he met Drift's EM field with his own and wrapped him in another hug, spark to spark.

A surge of love, care, devotion- Ratchet's EM field helped soothe Drift's headache, and slowly, he calmed down. His vents evened out, the sound of the fans rattling no longer another sound adding to his distress.

"Sorry, Ratty. I just, this is... really bad."

"Yeah, it is. But we'll figure it out."

Drift's voice fell to almost a whisper. He couldn't fully hear himself speak, although he felt his vocaliser warm up. "There's this weird dissonance, like everything is too loud and too quiet all at once. Like all the small noises are massive and I can't hear anything I actually want to listen to. It reminds me of coming down from a syk hit, when my sensory data would get a little messed up."

Ratchet stilled, then tightened his hold on Drift. He was careful to speak directly into Drift's audial. "Rung is here too, you know. We're all here for you. I'm here for you."

He pulled back just enough to kiss Drift's faceplate, where the tears had left stains. Drift stared at his intake; He wasn't sure if it was to return the kiss, or if it was an attempt to try to follow along with his words.

"How about this: While Aid finishes up the report on your scan results, we can lay down in our hab suite and hopefully it'll be quiet enough there for you to get some real rest. I can give you a painkiller before we head out; Nothing heavy-duty, but sensory sensitivity can be unpleasant and I want you to actually recharge if you think you can. I can call Velocity in to handle my other patients for the evening."

He hadn't been this tired earlier, but he definitely was now. Drift nodded, leaning his helm up a bit to return Ratchet's kiss.

"Yeah, that sounds good."

[autumnblogs]

Companion Piece 4: Reproduction

This was initially going to be a standard daily reading post, but I decided to turn it into a companion piece since it turned into a bit of an essay.

https://homestuck.com/story/1071

Time for another main theme; and actually, I would like to call it the main theme!

Homestuck is about reproduction.

Why did I wait for this panel to talk about it? The answer is that it’s one of three panels (at least - there might be more I’ve missed) that clue us in to the fact that the same thing is going on in each of the three situations where it appears.

Dave is the first victim. Tavros is the second victim. Jake is the third victim.

https://homestuck.com/story/1072

“thats really all there is to say on the matter.”

The code phrase that goes along with the imagery of our hero thrashed on the ground, messaging on their phone.

More after the break.

According to my reading, Homestuck is structured around a trio of relationships that take the form “Abusive Mentor -> Reluctant Student” where the pairs are respectively Bro -> Dave, Vriska -> Tavros, Dirk -> Jake.

It should be pretty obvious that reproduction in the biological sense is something that Homestuck Is About - Sburb, the main fixture of the webcomic’s mechanics is the reproductive cycle of universes, the way that reality propagates itself. Shipping is all over the place in Homestuck, and from Act 1 onward, characters are entertaining the possibility of relationships with one another as the author teases the audience with the possibility of any two particular characters getting together, before circumstances conspire to make them incompatible.

But Homestuck is about other kinds of reproduction too. Cultural reproduction, for example. As the guardians pass down rituals to their respective wards, as the Trolls’ dancestors communicate with them from across time through journals, treasure troves and the like, as the kids absorb pop cultural expectations about what it means to be men and women, the Culture that surrounds them is reproducing itself through them. They conform to the image of the times by adopting the symbols of mass media, and by playing out the rituals that define living in 2009.

Personal reproduction, too, exists in Homestuck as a microcosm of the large-scale cultural reproduction going on in the background radiation of the characters’ lives. Each of the abusive mentors is focused on transforming their desired ward into a copy of themselves. Bro tries to beat all of the softness out of Dave, and expects him to be interested in the same things that Bro is interested in. Vriska subjects Tavros to brutal physical and emotional violence because she sees him as weak and wants him to be strong - she wants him to be cruel and violent, more like her ideal of a strong troll. More like her image of herself as the ideal troll. Dirk spends an awful lot of time telling Jake that he needs to be more like Jane, telling Jane that she needs to be more like Jake, because the reality is that he wants both of them to be more like he is, and as Jake’s rough-housing “buddy” he denies him things that he needs to survive on the basis that they will be worthless to him unless he can seize them by way of violence.

In all three cases, the attempt to reproduce the self in the student serves not to empower them but to subordinate them to their mentor. Dave becomes traumatized and learns to hate and fear the sound of clanging and grinding metal, fear that he’s living under constant surveillance. Tavros becomes so incapable of dealing with stress and violence that he spends most of the second half of his session dreaming uselessly on Skaia. Jake becomes so afraid of touching another person that he decides that y’know? He’d rather just be alone for the rest of his life.

Reproduction is in the very fabric of Homestuck, all throughout the variety of instances that Doc Scratch will refer to later as Circumstantial Simultaneity. Certain poses are replicated between totally different characters as they have emotionally similar experiences that tie into the same core themes of the comic.

Certain phrases are repeated ad nauseam as the comic calls attention to its own recurring, recursive nature.

Each of the first three quarters of Homestuck - Acts 1-4, Acts 5-1 and 5-2, And Act 6 up through Game Over set up these three relationships, and once each one is set up, the rest of the comic is spent knocking it down, before the final quarter of the comic ultimately serves as the stage for each of the students to determine how they’re going to move beyond their abuse.

Because cycles of abuse are a kind of reproduction. There’s no easier way to turn a human being into an abuser than to subject them to abuse. And Homestuck seems to suggest that cycles of reproduction are frequently subverted into cycles of abuse. Any time reproduction is used for another reason than to build up, to beautify, to make something exist just so that it can exist - any time reproduction is used as a form of hegemony, to replicate one’s self instead of producing something new, it turns stagnant, and toxic.

There is no place in Paradox Space for stagnation, for trying to keep things the way that they are, for the preservation of particular images and particular forms the way that we remember them.. There is no place in Paradox space for immortality, the self-congratulatory, the masturbatory, the incestuous, the cancerous - for individual cells, or for individual selves to live forever, and keep copying themselves ad nauseam. Every living thing in Paradox Space is slated to die, because it’s how Paradox Space cleans up the old, and makes way for the new. Death and Birth are always intertwined. You can’t hold onto your Mom or your cat forever, Rose. You won’t live forever, Dave. You can’t watch Con Air the same way ever again, John. Your friendships have to come to an end some day, Jade. But every time something in Paradox Space dies, every time the act of reproduction takes place, it makes Paradox Space a richer, healthier place. The old is lost, but old things are recombined with one another, and diversify, leaving behind things that bear the hallmarks of the old, but are each special and different from the old, and from each other, in their own unique ways.

Reproduction, in the world of Homestuck, is an act that has to take place entirely for the benefit of the children, not for the benefit of the parents. Any time the reproducers use Reproduction as a tool by which to profit, to hegemonize, to immortalize themselves, it creates something that makes Paradox Space a weaker, sicker, frailer place.

[monggu-eomma]

Found

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader

Genre: Soulmate!AU, angst, fluff

Word Count: 1.5k

Prompt: sun and moon

Warnings: None

Summary: Everyone was born with a red string of fate bestowed by the gods, except for you. At first it seemed unfair to be left without a soulmate, but you eventually came to terms with the cards that you had been dealt. Even if you didn’t have a soulmate, you could still love. 

Author’s Note: I wasn’t expecting to write this, but life has a funny way of doing things. It hasn’t been easy to write lately because I am too consumed by Haikyuu and I’ve been in this really weird funk that I don’t know how to get through. This scenario is for the BGW Bingo Bash and I can now proudly proclaim “bingo!” © Found is copyright monggu-eomma. Do not re-post, modify, and/or translate this piece of writing without my permission. 

“You know, you’re so lucky Hobi,” you said as you leaned your shoulder against your best friend’s shoulder. You sat together on the couch in his living room, mindlessly watching whatever was playing on the tv. 

“And why am I so lucky?” He asked, looking at you with a playful glint in his eyes. 

“Because you have a string,” you replied. Although you couldn’t see the red string wrapped around his left ring finger, you were still envious of what he had. 

Hoseok was taken aback by your sudden statement. He rarely spoke to you about the red string of fate, as it was a sore subject for you. He could count on one hand the number of times that you had spoken to him about it and every conversation concerning the matter left you with tears welling in your eyes. You had always reassured him that you had accepted your fate, but Hoseok could see with each reassurance that you uttered that you were hurting. “They are so lucky to have you.” 

“I guess,” Hobi replied and you were surprised, to say the least, by Hoseok’s indifference. “I’m not sure if they would be happy to have found me whenever we find each other,” Hoseok confessed. Hoseok had never shown a lot of enthusiasm for his soulmate and you figured that it was because he didn’t want to brag about having a soulmate. The lack of a red thread around your finger was a sore subject for you and Hoseok’s confession made you realize that you weren’t only one who struggled with the red string of fate. 

Wrapping both of your hands around Hoseok’s right hand, you looked into his eyes. “You are amazing, Hobi. One day your string is going to lead you to your soulmate and I know that they will be happy and grateful to have you in their life. I may not have a string, but every day I am thankful because I have you.” 

Tears gathered in Hoseok’s eyes at your words as he hugged you tightly. “I love you,” he mumbled with his lips against your hair. 

“I love you, too,” you said in reply. It wasn’t uncommon for you and Hoseok to express your love for each other. You had known Hoseok for so long and it was only natural for you to love each other, even if it wasn’t the kind of love that was bound by the red string of fate. 

After breaking away from the hug, you looked at your phone to check the time and sighed. “It’s late. I need to go home. I have a long day at work tomorrow,” you said with regret in your voice. 

Hoseok nodded his head and smiled. “Text me when you get back home, so that I know you made it back safely,” he said. 

“Of course!” You replied. Before you could stand up, Hoseok took your hand in his and pressed his lips against your forehead. 

“Thank you,” he said. 

You wanted to say that you should be the one thanking him for always being there for you and for being your friend, but you kept those thoughts to yourself. Instead you stood up and smiled at him. “I’m always here for you.” 

As you made your way home, you thought only of Hoseok. He was such an amazing person and you couldn’t imagine your life without him. Although you had always known that one day that your friendship with him would diminish when he found his soulmate, you had long since decided that you were going to make the best of your time with him. The gods had left you to your own devices and it was up to you to make the best of your situation.

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

Bringing your coat closer to your body, you waited at the bus station for the bus to come. It was a particularly cold Autumn night, the light from the full moon doing nothing to provide warmth. A cold shiver ran down your spin as a harsh cold wind blew orange and red leaves on the street. It had been a very long day at work and you were looking forward to coming home and making yourself a nice cup of tea to warm and calm your nerves.

As you waited for the bus to come, your thoughts drifted to your grandmother and the stories that she used to tell you. The story of the red string of fate stood out to you, especially since you had spoken about the red string of fate with Hoseok the previous night. The story spoke of the ancient Chinese gods tying an invisible red string around the fingers of those who were destined to meet each other in a certain situation or help each other in a certain way. The ancient deity that was in charge of the red string was said to be Yue Lao, the lunar matchmaker god. Your grandmother told you that the two people connected by the red string were destined to be lovers and partners for all of eternity, regardless of circumstances. She also told you that this red thread is what had brought your grandparents together and subsequently, your parents together. Although the story of the red string was supposed to excite you, it always left you feeling hopeless and alienated. You had never seen the red string of fate and you were certain that you would walk this life in loneliness. The lack of a red string had you feeling as though you were walking an interminable night. 

The screeching of a large blue bus pulling in front of the bus stop brought you out of your lamentation. You quickly walked into the bus, scanning your bus pass and quickly scouting for a seat. Relief washed over you when you saw an unoccupied window seat and you walked over to claim that seat as yours. It was a nuisance, but you got car sick easily and you needed to sit, or stand, by a window whenever you were in a moving vehicle. Once you sat down, you pulled out your phone and earbuds to listen to music. You set the music setting on shuffle and let your playlist randomly choose songs for you to listen to. After the music started to play, you decided to scroll through your social media accounts on your phone and see what you had missed while you were at work. Your body jolted forward as the bus made another stop. The jolt was unexpected, especially considering that the bus had come to a gentle stop. As you pushed yourself upright, you noticed a red string tied around the ring finger of your left hand. 

It can’t be, you thought to yourself. This must be a joke. 

With gentle care, you touched the string to make sure you weren’t hallucinating. The thread felt soft and light. The string was even more beautiful as it was illuminated by light from the Moon. With a gentle tug on the string, you looked to see where it would lead to. Your gaze followed the whereabouts of the string, finding that it led to the front of the bus and that the string continued out of the bus. The tension of the red thread felt tight. It was now or never. 

Quickly, with a sense of unspeakable urgency, you pressed one of the many buttons found in the bus to signal to the bus driver that you needed to get off the bus. You stashed your phone and earbuds back into your purse and swiftly exited the bus once it came to a full stop. Your gaze focused solely on the red string tied to your finger and you followed its path without giving any care to your surroundings. You had spent a long time telling yourself that you had accepted the gods leaving with you alone, but that lie held no truth to it. 

With every step that you took, you tugged the red string towards your body as if to tell your soulmate, “Please, find me.” 

You were so caught up in the stressful excitement of the idea of meeting your soulmate that you had failed to notice that you were about to bump into someone. 

Oomph. 

Looking up from the red thread that was connected to the person that you had bumped into, you found yourself briefly looking at their back. They quickly turned around to apologize, but the apology was caught in their throat as you tugged at the red string on your finger with enough force to bring your soulmate closer to you. He placed his hands on your waist, as he had done countless times before, and stared at you in awe. His smile was bright and reminded you of home. How could you have not seen this before? Looking back at your time with him, the signs had been so obvious. The countless late nights, the way your hand always seemed to find his, the whispered I-love-you’s. It all made sense. 

The quiet moon that had plagued your life had been out-shined by a bright and warm sun for longer than you had realized. With or without the red string of fate, there was no doubt in your mind that you loved him. 

“You found me,” Hobi smiled at you. 

[suddenlysackler]

Afterglow (Nice to Meet You Series)

Charlie Barber x Reader

Nice to Meet You: a series of one shots based off of this post. Previous installments can be found here:

Adam Sackler

TW: Lil bit of angst and cynicism at the beginning, mentions of divorce, breakups, anxiety, depression, mention of alcohol consumption

A/N: This is my first piece that I’ve posted in awhile, I’m so sorry for the content drought! This series is kind of sporadic atm (kind of a result of life) but I miss you all so very much. Here’s to a normal content schedule some day 💓 Thank you for reading!

...

Timing always tends to be a funny thing, you supposed.

You weren’t sure if you were an “everything happens for a reason” sort of person person, a person who believed in fate. Who believed in soulmates. You used to be that way six years ago, before the reality of life and relationships and loss and grief and disappointment and all of the wonderful bad things had gotten to you. Had snatched up who you were, chewed that essence up, and spit it right back out. 

So here you were, one year removed from when everything essentially blew up in your face, leaving you to rebuild.

And here Charlie was, coming off one of the worst years of his life, knowing almost exactly how you felt.

The cynic in you is saying that it’s just too cliché, the two of you being so broken and finding each other like this. 

The small voice in the back of your mind that’s still clinging to the dreamer you once were? It’s telling you that the two of you were meant to find each other and, yeah, you roll your eyes every time the thought crosses your mind. However, with each passing day, you become more and more convinced that it was true.

How embarrassing. 

It’s one of those rare September days that happen before the seasons change, when it feels more like mid October than the last few days of summer. Your cheeks are burning from the wind that whips your hair everywhere, a pleasant cold that you’d longed for over the summer months. The hot coffee in your hand threatens to spill from it’s cup and you take tentative sips when you absolutely have to stop at crosswalks and wait for cars to go by before darting out again.

Naturally, you were running late to the Saturday morning meeting of people on the New York theater scene planning for what the industry calls red bucket season. In the aftermath of all of the loss and grief and spiraling thoughts last fall you had finally said yes to the constant begging of your coworkers in the marketing department at Schubert and started to become more heavily involved with Broadway Cares/Equity Fights Aids. The overwhelming joy that came with the annual Flea Market in the Schubert Ally last September had given you hope to last all the way through to red bucket season, which carried you into the spring and helped you to feel like you were doing something productive with your time other than sleep, eat, work, and cry.

You’d met people from different companies in the theater world, met so many lovely actors and musicians and dressers and heads of house and developed a net to busy yourself, to affirm your sense of self worth, to get a drink with on a Sunday afternoon when the ghost light was finally turned on after the matinee crowd had finally cleared the stage door and the last member of the orchestra had said goodnight.

Taking a deep breath and glancing at your watch only to see that you were fifteen minutes late, you swallow and push your way through the doors, cheeks heating up even more if at all possible. There isn’t anyone you know staring back at you when all twenty something people turn to see who had arrived late and interrupted the meeting’s organizer. You cringe internally as you call out a simple apology and slip into the first vacant seat that catches your eye.

Enter Charlie Barber.

His head whipped back when everyone else’s had. He had looked you up and down, tried to see if you were anyone he knew like everyone else in the room. He couldn’t see you, didn’t really see you until you plopped down next to him, wind blown and flustered and absolutely breathtaking. 

Post divorce finalization, Charlie had decided that he wasn’t going to go looking for someone else. He didn’t need someone to come in and pick up all the pieces or any of that bullshit. He wasn’t looking for a savior to fix it all —grief was something to handle on your own in his eyes. 

As you lean over and whisper another apology to him specifically, as if you had inconvenienced him personally by sweeping into the room late and choosing to sit next to him and draw attention to him too, Charlie feels like he’s been hit by a truck. The simple apology rings like a crescendo through his head and chest and he feels it in his bones. He rushes out his acknowledgement, tells you it’s okay, but he feels like his mouth has turned into molasses.  

About halfway through the presentation, he leans over and nudges you, pointing out a typo in the slide presentation. It’s a bold move, all things considered — you did know the woman running the meeting, she was your boss and someone you considered to be a close acquaintance. You’d mentioned as much when Charlie had turned to you during some dumb partner exercise she had made you all do to get to know each other.

The stifled laughter that bubbles past your lips rivals any top forty hit that played in the background when Charlie got his coffee that morning, much earlier than you, in the coffee shop three blocks from the auditorium you were now sitting in. Suddenly, he finds himself obsessing over how it would sound uninhibited by the social circumstances. He wants to make you laugh over and over again. 

It’s chance that the two of you are assigned to help run the first red bucket training session of the season before the first performance of a long running musical that you had never seen nor cared to have seen three days later. It’s close to dinner time and you’ve had a long day at the office. Charlie’s had a long day too, a long few days thinking about when he’d see you again. How well the two of you had gotten on, how your hands had brushed over each other at the stupid little food spread during your break on Saturday. 

He thinks about what he should wear, what you’d be wearing, if you’d want to run across the street afterwards and split a pie at the local pizza joint that all of the tourists frequented before shows, wanting to get an “authentic” slice but not wanting to stray to far from the familiarity of the theater district and Times Square in all of it’s grubby, overrated glory.

Charlie doesn’t assume he’d even crossed your mind since you parted ways Saturday. He figures you’re busy, that you aren’t looking for anything because you’re just fine on your own or maybe you’re with somebody else. He doesn’t chance snooping on your social media to break the lovely reverie dancing in his head as he falls asleep Saturday, Sunday, and Monday evening. The one where he gets to start over, gets to start a relationship that’s based in equal footing and rationality rather than fear and chaotic emotions and limelight. 

Little does he know that you’ve been thinking about him too, your mind reeling with the same possibilities for yourself. It scared you more than anything that you’d even begun to entertain those types of thoughts.

You knew he’d just come off of an ugly divorce. Hell, you knew who he was when you had plopped down next to him and caught a glimpse of his furrowed brow and broad shouldered stature. You hadn’t expected someone as busy as him, as important as him to be here with the rest of you, all minor players in the theater world for the most part. You certainly hadn’t expected to enjoy your time with him and dance almost the whole way home because you were so excited that you’d been given the opportunity to see him again. 

Was it worth asking him to hang out after the meeting? Would he laugh in your face? Turn you down politely and tell you he’d see you at your next assigned training session? Would he ignore it and walk out to meet someone else and kiss them under the lights of the marquees? 

You spent the whole meeting wondering how you would ask him, if you would even ask him. You worked on autopilot, completely preoccupied with stealing glances across the room at Charlie, joking with Charlie during breaks, brushing Charlie’s hand when you passed him paper...Charlie, Charlie, Charlie.

“Nice work tonight.” A baritone voice pulls you from your thoughts and you glance up to see the man himself, eyes crinkled at the edges as he smiles down at you while the cast filters back stage.

You start to clean things up, trying to busy yourself so you don’t put your foot in your mouth. “You too, Charlie.” You hum, mentally kicking yourself because wow were you lame. You could have said anything else and you just echoed his words instead? Your chances were slipping right through your fingers.

He picks at lint on his sweater that isn’t even there, kicks some invisible object as he watches you. “How come I’ve never seen you around before last weekend? Charlotte told me you’ve been with Schubert for awhile now and both of my shows have been in Schubert buildings. So’s my third.”

“You were talking to Charlotte about me?” You ask, head snapping up with a shit eating grin. He was talking about you with other people?

Charlie’s cheeks go bright red and his hand comes up to rub the back of his neck, a nervous habit of his. He stumbles over his words, tries to come up with any other explanation to hide the truth of why he had asked Charlotte about you. Before he could say anything else, you swallow your nerves, then stand up straighter. 

“Because maybe I’ve been talking to her about you.” You shrug — you hadn’t really. Hell, you don’t even know why the words came out of your mouth. 

His eyes sparkle a bit as he tilts his head. “Maybe?”

“Yeah, maybe.”

The man standing across from you grabs an armful of infographics and slips them into the box that was meant to go to the head of house, to have on hand for people interested in donating. “Charlotte mentioned you liked pizza.” He says and, of course, it couldn’t have been true, you didn’t know Charlotte that well, but you appreciated the effort.

You smile and take a step forward, looking him up and down shyly. “Maybe I do.”

Charlie snorts, rolls his eyes, then nudges you playfully for good measure as he prays that he’s reading the room correctly. “Well maybe you’d want to get some with me?”

You half hear the question. He’s so handsome and you wonder if he knows it. If he knows he’s had you weak at the knees since the minute you’d made eye contact with him Saturday. “Maybe I’d like that.” You say, eyes round and full of wonder.

He smiles, putting his hands in his pockets. “It’s a date then.”

“You want to call it a date?” Butterflies are now running rampant in your stomach.

“Maybe.”

You’re both grinning from ear to ear now, faces hot and hands sweaty and shaking. “If you’re calling it a date, then yeah. I’d like that a lot.”

So Charlie takes you across the street and you each eat half a pizza, laughing over cheap wine and talking about how snooty actors could be. How demanding the stage door was. Your respective backgrounds in theater, his early success, your acceptance of the fact that you wouldn’t make it big and it was better to just settle into marketing and still be in the industry. Job security and such. 

He takes your hand outside of the restaurant as you lead him toward the local bakery that sells cookies fresh from the oven.

You intertwine your fingers with his while you stand in line for hot chocolate as dusk turns to night in Central Park.

He kisses you after wiping a bit of chocolate from the corner of your mouth on the Brooklyn bound A train a half hour later. And again on your stoop when you finally arrive home. 

He kisses you another time after he gives you his number and then once more when he realizes he’s only a ten minute walk from your apartment.

After heading upstairs, showering, doing some dirty dishes, and then plopping onto your bed, you smile when you see three texts from Charlie on your phone’s lock screen. Was it cliché to say that he had swooped in and fixed everything? Yeah and he didn’t fix anything really. He’d kissed you a few times and held your hand, sure, and he seemed like he wanted more. You wanted more too, but that didn’t mean that you were healed.

All you did know was that the hopeless romantic in you was louder than they had been for the better part of two years and you couldn’t stop smiling and wondering if it was coincidence that you had plopped down next to Charlie Barber during the meeting. Was it coincidence that the barista had taken longer with your latte that morning or was it fate telling you to take a deep breath and hold on tight because in a matter of minutes, you’d be meeting someone special.

[dreeeeiii]

Job Hunting - What to Do

This is a theme that is as applicable now as it has at any point been and I'd to share a couple of bits of knowledge that I have regarding the matter.

In this season of philosophical grimness, you'll be accustomed to finding out about how our economy is improving, how joblessness is falling, and how wages are on the ascent.

Those of us on the forefront of business, who've been work chasing or jobless over the most recent couple of years, realize that the truth of the work market is less blushing than the playful figures propose.

I'm certain I'll address deceiving measurements in the media in the future however it's not what I need to cover today so I'll skirt that to cut to the chase of this post.

As I sit solidly in the under 30 segment that consistently appears to battle in the business stakes I've had numerous conversations with companions, associates, and schoolmates about the trouble of the work market in the current financial environment and I'd prefer to share my tips for advancing on the planet.

I don't profess to have all (or any) of the appropriate responses, I can just assist with the direction that I've discovered valuable. While these tips are focused on the jobless they are likewise proper for those hoping to proceed onward to another position, even though I'll be hoping to address this in more detail in a future post.

Occupation Hunting is difficult to work

This is a point that anybody at work will in general neglect. From the solace of a paid position, it is all around simple to imagine that those without a task aren't making enough of an effort to get one!

There is a great deal of work to place into an effective quest for new employment. In the most basic terms, you need to compose or refresh your CV, secure position adverts, compose introductory letters, go to interviews round out application structures both in paper structure and on the web, and offer yourself and your abilities to anybody that will tune in. None of this is simple except for don't get unsettled. The more exertion and work you put into your arrangement the almost certain you are to succeed.

Educational program Vitae

Your CV or resume is the primary spot, to begin with, employment forms and can have the effect of progress and disappointment in an application. There is no compelling reason to freeze, it's a lot simpler than individuals make out.

Keep it straightforward!

Attempt to sum up your work parts in list items as opposed to passages of text, put applicable key abilities in a different segment at the highest point of the CV and, most importantly, make it simple for the scout to peruse.

In a circumstance where the scout has a lot of uses then they will not generally have the opportunity to filter through each CV in detail, your application needs to have the correct data in a spot they can't miss.

It very well may be overwhelming taking a gander at a clear page and attempting to transform it into a CV so assuming you end up stuck, utilize a format. They're incorporated into Word and unreservedly accessible on the web, utilize the assets you can get hold of!

The following point may appear glaringly evident yet I've seen numerous applications that have missed this. Spelling and sentence structure are significant. You will not stand apart with the right spelling on your CV however you totally will stick out if there're blunders. If you can't take the consideration to get it directly on a CV why should a forthcoming manager think you'll place any consideration into working for them?

Lastly, make sure to work out what sort of occupation you will, for the most part, be applying for and tailor your experience to fit.

Presently you have an incredible CV you'll require the following piece of the application...

The Covering Letter

This letter has one reason. For what reason would it be a good idea for them to employ you?

So ensure that you answer this inquiry in the letter. "I would be appropriate for this position because... "

This is your opportunity to sell yourself and get that meet. However, recall, a bustling selection representative will not peruse a gravely arranged paper. Keep it basic, hold it direct.

Keep in touch with one general covering letter that can be effectively altered, by transforming a couple of sentences it can cover you from a client care position to an information passage. This can make it an extremely helpful device. Composing this appropriately will mean you can go after positions in seconds instead of minutes.

The Search

This is similarly the hardest and the most straightforward piece of the interaction.

It ought to be simple if you've arranged it accurately. Outfitted with your CV and covering letter you should simply send in those applications, however, remember to go through a brief altering your covering letter to customize every application.

The simple part is to discover opening. There are a large number of roads for you to investigate while looking for the correct positions.

Most huge organizations will have their professions page on the site, posting all opportunities inside the organization. Check for any organizations you realize that have areas close to you.

Neighborhood papers are incredible assets for independent ventures to publicize in and many will utilize these solely. Public papers have a position segment with an assortment of occupations accessible here.

The most well-known asset are through sites, for example, Reed or the Job Center destinations. These gather together opportunities from everywhere and ought to be your go-to place to begin your chase.

The Right Job

It is vital to be sensible in this viewpoint. You will not find low maintenance line of work, paying your fantasy wage in precisely the field you need.

Bargain.

Go after a position with a lower compensation than you need and haggle in the meeting. Go after positions further abroad. Go after positions that you don't believe you're equipped for.

The significant thing is to continue to apply.

Last Words

To adjust this post I will cover a couple of central issues that excursion individuals up.

At the point when you're jobless, work chasing is your everyday work! Try not to go after two positions and figure that you're accomplished for the afternoon. You ought to be taking a gander at going through 8 hours per day on your hunt. Regardless of whether this time is best spent revamping your CV or cover going after positions is down to you.

Try not to depend on others. Offices are infamous for this. They are amazingly valuable apparatuses to assist you with depending on them. Since you're enrolled with an office doesn't imply that you can quit looking. You may luck out and get a proactive spotter who invests their energy looking for you yet more often than not you will not even hear back.

On that note, don't anticipate answers from your applications. Probably, 10% of organizations will even recognize your application considerably less development on it. This is just a question of numbers. On the off chance that they have 200 candidates for a position, it would not be achievable to answer by and by to every one of them. Try not to expect one and you will not be disillusioned.

Keep at it! You will get an opportunity, you will get a meeting, you will find a new line of work.

I trust this has aided and I will share some meeting tips in a later post.

[nosferatyou]

Double Indemnity: Ch.1 (Josh Kiszka x Reader)

Summary: After an incident their freshman year they could barely stand to look at each other. Now it’s their senior year and are grouped together for their final project. What could go wrong?

Warnings: Cursing

WC: 2.3k

Authors note: Well. I flipped into Josh’s lane and thought of this sucker and couldn’t get it out of my head. After I heard the story behind the writers of “Double Indemnity” I just had to make this. Heres to me hopefully finishing a series! Enjoy!

Let’s go back to the day when I “met” Josh Kiszka and when I actually met Josh.

It was the summer before my freshman year of college, and at that point, film sets weren’t a stranger to me. But I sure didn’t have the experience that most of the already film majors around me had. I was roped in by my long time friend Jack who I hadn’t spoken to since graduation, but due to the circumstances, he needed as many crew members as possible. He had 2 days to write, shoot, and cut together a short film. I was a PA (production assistant) and was frantically running around helping in any way I could. I was smart enough to stay out of the way and speak up when needed.

 I met most of the crew except one, the cinematographer/camera op, who was the busiest on set. The exception being Jack, who was the director. I heard the camera OP was only there because he had the nicest camera, but my mind may have tainted what I heard about him that day.

With only an hour to spare we had finished the film. All of us dehydrated and starving, sleep-deprived too. I was cradling a horrendous migraine from the lack of water and was ready to leave before someone suggested we go to Cookout. Which is arguably the best food at 3 am. 

Against my will, I was dragged to the fast-food restaurant with the rest of the crew. At that point, I was barely conscious and sat in the back seat of Jack’s car. The stranger cinematographer who I hadn’t noticed was next to me until he tapped my shoulder. With a concerned look, asked me if I was okay and needed anything. Which was nice of him considering we’d never spoken. 

After the short exchange of words, he never seemed to fully leave my side. May it be his glances from across the table with the same concerned look, or him bring me cups of water, which I still don’t remember him getting up for. 

After that night it would be months until I see him again. 

I didn’t expect him to be in my Post Production class, but I was definitely happy to see him. It was my first day of classes and to see a familiar face was a nice change of pace compared to whirlwind of a day. Though it wasn’t too long after that that my feelings for him changed.

If you’re a film student you’re going to edit a Gunsmoke fight scene, it is basically a right of passage. Anyways I was an experienced editor and of course, was going to cut the fight scene to the beat of an Ennio Morricone song. If we were going to work on a western scene then Ennio was a must. 

 I was damn proud of my work, I seemed to be one of the best editors in the class, josh being right there with me. We didn’t exchange many words, but we kept each other company by simply sitting next to each other. 

Then came the critique day, when everyone watches your video and gives you notes. Usually its never good notes.

 After our class watched it everyone had a lot to say, mostly over small slip-ups I didn’t notice, that’s normal. Josh’s video was next and the moment the music played I was livid, he had used the same exact song, even cut it the same way I did. The worst part was that no one had anything bad to say about it, all good comments. I kept it contained, for the most part. I didn’t verbally say anything, but my constant tapping and dirty looks in his direction said otherwise. I don’t think he’d noticed.

I waited until everyone left and simply gave him a piece of my mind. Maybe I snapped at him… either way, it led to us getting into our first screaming match. Josh saying he “didn’t” copy my video and me disagreeing. I honestly don’t remember how it ended, but I do remember us getting kicked out of the building for it. 

Anyways that was three years ago, and we still hate each other. Yet here we are still in all the same classes, but the difference is we have silent warfares. Constantly competing with each other, showing each other our higher grades, and besting each other’s videos. I can barely stand to hear him talk anymore, but I do have to say. He knows how to make a good line. 

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Even with the cold chill of the November air prickling my skin and the wind whipping my hair, my mood couldn’t be damped. Maybe “chill” is an understatement. Living in “The City by the Lake” aka Chicago brings on the harshest of winters, and as crazy as it seems, I always weirdly miss it when I go back to Michigan. Sure it has it’s many feet of snow, but Chicago makes the wind weirdly dazzling. 

This is my last coffee, I’ll switch to tea. Is something I say every morning when I get up before classes, but here I am again, with an out of place cold brew in hand and a raging caffeine addiction. In hindsight, it is better than my previous vice, cigarettes, but the headaches it brings on is just as bad as missing a cig. My one hand shoved in my pocket and the other is clutching the same cold brew as before. I may have said that I couldn’t be bothered by the weather, but I’m not immune. 

As soon as I enter Columbia’s Media Production building everything becomes flush with warmth. Its a bit uncomfortable really. I remove my gloves and quickly checked my phone, affirming that I’m right on time as always. As I stroll through the halls I tune more into the music, enjoying my free time. There is just something about Chet Baker and Chicago that just mixes so well. 

Todays a good day though, it marks my one year of quitting cigs. Did I mention that I quit? Because I quit. Anyways my roommate made a big deal out of it, I also figured out the coolest riff, I’m kind of shit at making music out of thin air so it’s a big day. 

After taking the long way to my Directing class (Cinema Directing III if you want to get technical) I finally made it to the small class. Most of the class was there, luckily for me my two-year seat partner, Gwen, was already there, waiting where she always does. We met in our Single Cam 1 class and have been inseparable since, well actually Gwen, Cora (the previously mentioned roommate), and I have been inseparable ever since. 

I made my way to my usual seat and peeled my overworn leather bomber jacket off, already feeling more comfortable. Slumping back in my chair I lazily grabbed my sketchbook and pencil out of my bag. Its become a kind of habit to draw my professors and classmates every day, something is just so fascinating about their compositions. I got to work on Gwen who was hunched over, focusing on her book in front of her. I got to work and as soon as I finished up on the basic shapes she quickly sat up, focusing on me. 

“You ready for the final project?” She questioned, stealing my coffee in the process.

“I’ve been working on a few ideas already, but then again I don’t know the assignment yet. I do know I will be grabbing the usual 4 of you the moment he says “groups.”

“Heres to hoping we can pick- Oh!” She almost spilled my coffee when she interrupted herself. 

“I forgot to text you! Happy one year of being ciggy free!” She exclaimed, handing me back the bottle.

I took a swig from the bottle when she gave it back. “Well thank you, darling. I feel like having clean lungs shouldn’t be such an achievement, but I guess here we are.”

“Be proud! Besides gives us a reason to head to Jerry’s.”

“We’d celebrate over anything if it meant going to Jerry’s and getting pissed.” I smirked at her.

“Well. You got me there. Anyways you are right, we will be getting drunk out of our minds tonight. Bless the man who decided to open a bar directly next to your apartment building.” She said, with a playful smile on her lips.

“Bless him indeed.” I laughed. 

At that moment I locked eyes with none other than the aforementioned, Josh Kiszka. It’s oddly enough what we do every time we see each other. Which is more often than I think both of us care for. But seeing him roll his eyes every time I glare at him is kind of fun. 

I followed him with my eyes as he sat down in his seat, instantly sticking his nose in- wait what is he reading? I focused and realized he was reading the screenplay for Tarantino’s “Reservoir Dogs.” Where the hell did he even get that? 

My eyes snapped up to the professor when I realized he started class.

“Alright, I’m just going to jump into this. Today we start on your final projects, and I think it’ll be very fun. A challenge for sure, but fun nonetheless.”

I slipped a sly smile to Gwen, already thinking of the best ideas in my arsenal to use.

“In groups, you all will be recreating a favorite film, but it should max be 20 minutes long. Now that’ll be your job to rewrite and format it so you can fit in the timeframe. Oh, and I swear to god if another person does Pulp Fiction I will actually scream. You can hold me to that.”

Oh Jesus okay this will be hard as hell, I guess something with a simpler plot will be easy. Ooh, or something that’s so overcomplicated I can rewrite it so it’s simpler. What’s something that’d be good for Gwen, she’s a good actress, but she can only play so much-

“I already have your groups picked out let me just put them up on the board.” My professor said, searching for the list on his computer.

Oh god. He’s never done this. We always pick groups. If Gwen and I aren’t grouped together I may just riot. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him drag the document over to the screen, so I quickly directed my attention to it.

I searched all of the lists, finally finding my name at the top of group four. Rob, Eric, and- Oh shit Gwen! Wait. There’s one more. The moment I saw the J I knew exactly who it was. My eyes darted over to Josh’s seat and had the same look I could only guess that was on my face. We both glared at each other, if we stared any harder we’d burn holes in each other.

“Motherfucker!” I whispered to Gwen, trying not to raise my voice.

“What? We are in the same group.” she looked back over to me with confusion on her face. She followed my eyes to the equally angry man across the room from me.

“Oh, shit..”

“Oh shit is right! I can’t work with that guy, I swear to god… Damn it, I can’t think of an insult! Quick help me!” I stammered out, you could practically see the steam coming out of my ears.

“Um... You can’t work with that Frodo look alike?” She suggested, both of us whispering to each other now,

“I’ll take it. I can’t work with that Frodo look alike! He’s just gonna take all of my good ideas and throw them into the lava like that fucking ring. Wait is it Frodo or sam who throws it? Know what, I don’t care. Look at what he’s making me forget important plot points in movies. I can’t work with someone who hinders my thinking process.” 

“First off, Gollum falls in with the ring in hand. Secondly, drink your coffee and focus on what movie we should do. Suggest something so good so fast that it’ll make his head spin.”

She put the almost empty coffee in my hands and I took a swig, still glancing back at josh, making the same face. 

Gwen started to ramble on, her words in the back of my mind. All I could focus on was wanting to be in any other group than his, even Leonard. He refuses to watch a Tarantino film, and simply because he thinks he’s beyond that. Leonard is someone I talk to if only necessary.

 I tuned back in to hear. “I mean if you think about it, as much as you and Josh are to Frodo and the Ring. You’re more like Billy Wilder and Ray Chandler. I mean they hated each other, but damn if they weren’t good writers. Plus, they respect a good line-”

Inspiration was swept over me. I knew exactly what we had to do. Before I knew what was happening my feet carried themself over to Josh’s seat. Same as before, we both had the same expression, except this time it was one of surprise. 

“Double Indemnity!” I blurted out a bit too loudly.

He seemed even more confused. “Double insurance money?” He questioned.

“Fuck. No. It’s the film we are going to make. It’s a fantastic idea, and it’s happening. Not even you can argue with me!” I sped out.

He sat for a moment in thought, his brows furrowed together and a cliche hand positioned on his chin. 

“Fine.” Is all he said, his arms were crossed. He seemed defeated.

I simply turned on my heel and headed back to my seat. An overexcited grin plastered to my face. 

[pro-bee]

“Ziva, sometimes people do the wrong things for the right reasons.” “People always think their own reasons are right. Especially parents.” “Yeah, they got perspective.” “Parents don’t make mistakes!”  “Yeah.” “My mother never told me what kind of a man my father was. Perhaps she thought I was not strong enough to handle it.” “Nah, she was just being a mom.” “How do you know?” “Perspective.” “Are you lonely Gibbs?” “You’re never alone when you have kids. ‘Night, kid.”

God, this is one of my favourite scenes of the series, and I think recent developments give it new depth because this conversation has kind of come full circle.

I love it because this moment, right here, is the Ziva-Gibbs relationship in a nutshell. 

[very long post with lots of feelings under the cut]

You’ve got Ziva frustrated at the tangled webs people weave to protect their families, even when it ultimately ends up unraveling one giant mess.

The whole episode, Ziva’s interactions with Mariam are fraught with both compassion and frustration. She feels a sort of kindred spirit in Mariam, trying to survive a conflict with no winner but only losers while escaping with some sort of humanity. Yet she’s also deeply frustrated, because Ziva is tired of this shit and particularly the kind of shit men will put the women in their lives through in the name of honour, and she has trouble seeing why any woman would stand by it when they can clearly see they are in the wrong.

It’s one of the most interesting aspects of Ziva’s character to me, one which I wish they would have explored more in the series, because she’s a bit of a dichotomy. She’s clearly deeply entrenched in the system her father raised her in, but she also is compassionate towards the very people she was probably trained to mistrust, knowing that at the end of the day, they’re all after the same thing -- a peaceful existence where they are free to be who they are. It’s a nuanced view that isn’t always given the chance to breathe in the media. 

But, here she is having just finished a case where someone -- a woman --  has once again covered up for the misdeeds of the men in her life, because she tried to protect them. Which gets her thinking about her own mother, who she now realizes covered up the things Eli did from her as a child so she could grow up with a father she could trust and love, even if we know now and Ziva would learn as a young adult that he did not deserve it. 

We don’t know what happened to her mom (other than Ziva says she was killed, like Tali and Ari), but we can probably infer that she went to her grave trying to protect Ziva from Eli’s exploits.

(Now I’m wondering if Tali and their mom were killed in the same event?)

She’s still reeling from the fallout of Somalia two years earlier, of cutting her father out of her life, of trying to figure out if she’s able to forgive him, look past what he put her through and put other people through, if she can find a place in her heart for him the way Mariam has for her son and husband even if they’ve committed atrocious acts.

And that is where Gibbs comes in: That it doesn’t make Ziva weak that her mom didn’t share any of this with her, one which she had to find out herself the hard way. It’s that her mother loved her so much that she wanted to shield her from that part of their lives, let her keep her innocence for as long as possible so that she could live in a world where her father wasn’t capable of heinous acts in the name of “duty”, because he was still her father and she needed that presence in her life, such as it was.

As we know now, Ziva seems to have grown up thinking that being strength = taking things and moving on. But we know that true strength, one which Mariam shows and arguably Ziva’s mother did, is being able to accept those parts of your life and still maintain your humanity and decency.

Then that flips to the Ziva-Gibbs relationship, because she has a moment of honesty with him, asking if he’s lonely. With Borin he brushes it off, but with Ziva, he offers his truth as he knows it. “You’re never lonely when you have kids.” Is it a delusion he tells himself? Perhaps, but in that very moment, I believe that he believes it, completely. Because he cares for these people, the same ones who have spent the entire week trying to set him up with someone specifically because they care for him and don’t want him to be alone. 

But more than that, when he tells her, “’Night, kid,” he’s not just teasing her about being one of the “office kids” who he looks over and takes under his wing. Coming off the discussion about the parents, he’s also telling her that he’s watching over her here the way her father couldn’t. That he sees her heart, the way she cared for Mariam and her family, and he knows where she belongs. He’s reminding her that she is part of a family here, one that may have had its own share of secrets to protect one another, but caring nonetheless. He’s acknowledging the love he has for them (and her) as much as the love they have (and she has)  for him. 

What really gets me, though, watching this now after season 17, especially these last two episodes, is how much their relationship has come full circle. We went from them being his “kids” to Ziva fighting for “her family” in the season 10 finale, to all the heartache between season 11-16, to the bitterness of season 17, and back to their father-daughter relationship.

Because now that Ziva is a parent herself, she has that perspective that Gibbs is talking about.

She, too, has now done the wrong things for what she believed were the right reasons. 

(Ahem, keeping Tali from Tony. Faking her death. Acting alone to fight terrorists. etc.)

And now, of course, with her perspective, she can see why Gibbs did or didn’t do the things he did, the same way she can probably now better understand why her own mother did what she did when she was a child.

(Except Eli. Eli is still the worst. In this house we drag Eli David.)

She has done things as a mom that have been painful and impossible but necessary, the way Mariam did or Gibbs did or her own parents did.

Yet another thing that I love about it is how it comes around for Gibbs, too. He wasn’t lonely here, he claims, because he had the love of his family, his “kids”. Admittedly I have only seen a few episodes between season 14-16, but the few that I have seen, what has stood out to me is just how lonely and isolated Gibbs has become. (I never saw the Paraguay arc, but I take it that messed him up a lot?)

Arguably, he’d lost his “kids.” Ziva was “dead,” Tony was gone, Abby left, McGee was around but now busy with his own family. (Of the newbies, Ellie is the only team member with a normal family so she doesn’t need the surrogate parent in Gibbs, and Torres, well, I don’t know enough about him but he’s got a whole other kind of personality and doesn’t seem to crave that parental bond the way the others do, and Kasie keeps herself a bit at a distance.)

And, yeah, obviously “kids” grow up and move on, but the episodes I’ve seen, it does seem that Gibbs holds himself back at a distance even further than he used to. (I remember in one of Ellie’s episodes in season 11, Gibbs essentially told her that he went easy on her and held back because every time he looked at her desk all he could see was that Ziva wasn’t there.) He has grown older and colder, at all-time peak aloof, save for rare moments. He just seems sad. (Like, not obviously grief-stricken, just... worn out.)

But then in these latest Ziva episodes, we’ve seen him more animated than we have in a long time. He’s laughed and yelled and choked up and smiled. Because something has finally clicked back into place. And it’s not just that Ziva is back, although that is a huge part of it, but it’s like this black cloud that has hung over them has lifted. The guilt and the grief have dissipated. The missing piece of the puzzle has been put into place. And even if Ziva isn’t actually around full-time, knowing she’s out there is comforting. 

And mending that relationship with her is a big part of that. Because Ziva was “the favourite”. I mean, I know Abby was, technically, but he had different relationships with them. Abby’s was a parent-child one, too, because she too was a girl who’d lost her parents, but she’s so sunny and self-assured that I think theirs was more one of comfort. However, with Ziva, I think he recognized immediately how vulnerable she was, how emotionally fragile she was beneath the bravado, and that she was a girl from a broken home who’d never really been protected, and was now making her way in the world without having learned the safety of her father’s love. Plus you add the shared combat experience between them, and the connection makes even more sense. If you think that she left under the most contentious of circumstances, then (nearly) met a tragic end, you can see why that guilt would have weighed down those memories of Gibbs’ even more than Abby’s, who left of her own volition to follow her own dreams. (lol let’s not get into the off-screen reasons.)

I digress.

What I’m trying to say is that now that Gibbs and Ziva are back in each other’s lives, and have laid their cards on the table and confessed their hurt and in turn forgiven each other for it, they have reached a new stage of their relationship. That they both have new perspective. That Ziva understands what her mother did, but also what Gibbs did. And Gibbs tried to protect Ziva then like he has now, but understands better what that actually means for her and what she needs. (Ah, communication, what a concept.)

So they’ve both done very wrong things for what they thought were their own right reasons.

He won’t be lonely anymore, because he’s got his kids back, and his almost-daughter most of all. He’s not going to let her go anymore than she will him.

And on another note: That puts Ziva’s comment in 17x02 about how she was never alone, even on the run, because she always had her daughter, into relief. Because, yeah, she was alone while Tali was with Tony, but she carried Tali in her memories and in her heart, and that was her guiding light throughout this whole ordeal. So Gibbs was right, you never are alone when you have kids. And Ziva will never be alone ever again.

[xellandria]

tw: death

My father died sometime last night.  My mom woke me up at around 4:20 (blaze it?), after she found him, ran around in a panic for a bit (her words), and called 911.  I’d only gone to sleep a couple hours earlier, and neither of us had checked on him until then (he went to bed much earlier than the two of us ever do) so it’s hard to say when it would have happened; we might learn more later, or we might not.  I’m not actually sure how much more information we’ll get—or want, really—when whatever examination happens happens, or if there will be an examination/autopsy/whatever.  All I know about that kind of thing comes from media, and it’s always convenient for media to have an autopsy.

About nine months ago, he was out on a hike and slid down some scree and hurt his back in some way.  Prior to the whole pandemic, he’d been going through all sorts of various treatments and tests to figure out what was wrong and how to fix it, but he’d been in pain for a while.  Supposedly it was at least getting a little better with time—mom says he hadn’t taken his pain meds for the last fifteen days or so—but it was definitely there, and he hadn’t been exercising much (if at all) as a result, and gained a lot of weight from the inactivity.

About a week ago, he started coughing and having trouble breathing, and apparently was having issues sleeping as well.  He called his doctor about it yesterday, and they had him go get tested for Covid.  The results for that won’t be back til Mondayish, but it’s sort of a moot point now, I suppose.  Well, partly moot—if he tested positive, mom and I definitely have to be a lot more nitpicky about our own health.  We’ve not been going out except as absolutely necessary, but I can’t help thinking that we did go to Walmart and Costco on the 16th and while he was wearing a mask of some sort on that trip, his mask procedure was not the best and that was about a week ago.  That’d be a little fast for Covid symptoms I think, but maybe?

I don’t know.  I wasn’t hearing much about it (we’ve been on different tracks for the past week so I haven’t seen much of him) but when we were talking to various relatives about an hour ago, mom seemed to imply that it was a lot of trouble breathing—which makes me ask why he didn’t do something about it if it was really that bad, but that’s not something I can or should ask at this point; I can’t ask him and giving her more to agonize about or regret is absolutely pointless (I still beat myself up on bad days for not being sterner about getting Emmett to a vet when I knew he wasn’t fully right, and he died like five or six years ago at this point; I absolutely do not want to inflict that kind of thing on my mother about her husband, for god’s sake, and I didn’t push harder for my own health and safety when I was having heart issues last year until I finally caved and went to the ER; I could have made that trip a lot sooner too instead of fucking around with my doctor half-ignoring me and limply running tests for six months).

Because it’s just me and mom out here on this coast, we’re probably not going to have a funeral.  Things would probably be different if we weren’t in the middle of a pandemic (his sisters might want something, I don’t think we thought to ask), but they can’t come out here and we can’t go over there and neither of us really want to deal with it.  She knew his preferences (at least for disposal—he wanted to be cremated) so we’ve got that under control, at least.

I’m sure it’s partly shock, but I definitely feel guilty as hell that I’m glad that the pandemic is giving us a good excuse to not have a funeral.  Maybe he would have wanted one?  I don’t know.  I know my own preferences (only if my survivors need it for themselves; I don’t believe in ghosts or anything like that, but the idea of death and corpses and such spooks me something awful and funerals and burials and such are obviously the worst for that) and mom was the one who said no when I asked her if she wanted one (though maybe I should ask again when we’re both less shocky).  If the dead do exist beyond death in some capacity, I hope he understands that it’s not that we don’t love him... but that’s a lot of money and time and mental energy for a lot of pomp and circumstance that doesn’t make... well, I was going to say “doesn’t make anybody feel better” but someone must get comfort from that kind of thing, even if I’m not sure I’ve ever met anyone who has.

There’s a lot of unknowns right now.  Dad was the one who handled all the household finances and I know he never went over it all with me, and I got the impression that he and mom never got around to it either (though we both mentioned that it was something we’d been thinking about, it’s obviously too late now).  Mom’s worried about the taxes, and what bills are on auto-pay and all that, and it’s going to be a nightmare to go through his computer and phone and make sure all that stuff is handled... but that’s not today’s worry.  I mean, I almost wish it was—it’d give me something to do now that we’re done talking to the EMTs and the police and the people from the funeral home and calling the relatives (and before I work up the nerve to call his old work friend, who is the only other person I can think of that deserves to know), but it’s also not something to walk into with two hours of sleep and a broad-but-vague understanding of how to access the data, but not what to do with it.

I haven’t cried yet, and I feel guilty about that too (though again, I’m putting it down to shock).  Cat death/injury is so triggering to me that I burst into tears nearly at the mention/thought of it, but my own father is gone and I’m just sitting at my computer, typing out a lengthy essay about how I want to consider myself a piece of shit for it, but I know it’s all part of the process, etc. etc.  I remember when my parents woke me up to tell me my maternal grandmother had died, I definitely cried then (and was angry) so I know it’s possible for me to feel things, or was at one point.  I’m sure the depression isn’t helping (and the fact that I think my med dosage may not be good enough anymore).

I’m sort of glad for the pandemic too, for the social distancing and masks that all the strangers that came to our home at 4-6am were wearing because I haven’t taken a shower in a couple days and I am disgusting and unshaved, but hopefully they didn’t notice.  At least they didn’t comment on it in my hearing, so I can maybe hopefully pretend.

Anyway.  I’m currently distracting myself by writing this out, but there’s not much more I want to say at this point.  I’ve posted out of my guild’s raids indefinitely for the moment (it was the first thing I did after I got out of bed while we were waiting for the EMT, and the second was tweet about it; my priorities are so fucked, y’all).  I don’t really know whether I’ll be able to stay on top of D&D—it’s only once a week, it’s a much smaller group of people who are much less likely to make some sort of unthinking or triggering remark (frankly, the idea of listening to my guild leader and some of the non-raiders talk about their jobs as doctors/upcoming medical practitioners is absolutely not what I need in my life right now, and I can’t tell 19+ other people to watch every word that comes out of their mouths or from their fingers above and beyond the guild rules because it might make the baby cry (or tilt her off the face of the earth)... but I can probably get away with asking only four other people to do that) and it’s not like we’re doing much where there might be schedule conflicts.  I’m gonna have to tell them for sure (well, Naha knows cos he follows me on twitter, and Kattii might cos she also follows me but I’m not sure if she keeps up with her timeline, but I don’t think the others do).  I should definitely not isolate myself entirely—I don’t know a lot right now, but I know that’s a real bad idea no matter how depressed I was before this happened—so I may keep the D&D up.

I’m not sure if I should go to the Sunday Jaina runs or not, since I won’t really be part of the prog team and shouldn’t take mounts out of the mouths of people who will actually be around.  I already felt kinda guilty about going to last week’s when I’d posted out of raid for mental health reasons (and had missed the week before’s entirely for same).  I dunno.  I’ve got a day and change to think about that one, and what I want to do with myself.

Oh, and M+ is a thing too isn’t it, fuck me.  I dunno.  If I do Jaina and I do D&D, I should probably at least do the M+ too; it’s only one or two runs a week even if it has been stressful because we’ve been scrambling for a filler every week for a few months now (Intol’s been wrapped up in the whole pandemic thing on his side of life, and none of us have had the time or energy to find a consistent/reliable filler until he’s ready to come back).  At least I have a good excuse to not be the one scrambling for that weekly filler anymore, eh? lol :T  That’s also a small group size so that should be all right.  Jaina will be touchy for the larger group size reason too actually, now that I think about it (although I can probably get away with not being on discord for most of the run).

I dunno.  I’m rambling now, and now I’m also rambling at Naha in DMs so maybe I should stop rambling in at least one location.