#yeah this still classifies as sas
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wearebackbagels ¡ 2 years ago
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Brainrot!
I’m losing my mind over this picture! 
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You could run it through an art program and hang it in any renaissance art gallery in the world and no one would suspect anything. I mean the colors, the feel, the pose, the lighting, everything is so renaissance!
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The Lucifer vibes here are SO STRONG!
@invisiblegargoyl​
Photo from “What Lies Beneath”, Love Magazines #6
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ninisreading ¡ 7 months ago
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FEEL BETTER - spencer reid
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pairing! Spencer Reid x fem!Reader
prompt! Spencer sees you haven´t been yourself lately, so he searches way to make you feel better.
warnings! just fluff
words! 662
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Everybody was aware of Spencer Reid´s lack of interaction with women, so it wasn´t a surprise for anybody when the new female SA made his hands sweat and words start coming out of his mouth like a plethora of nonsense. That however, made your stomach turn, how could a man so gorgeous be nervous around you? You had always classified yourself as this awkward and shy individual, so what effect could you possibly have on a more awkward, shyer man?
All your doubts remained unanswered up until today, a humid, rainy and boring paperwork day, with Prentiss going around chanting god-awful jokes and Morgan constantly teasing you about newfound information on your attraction towards the boy-genius. So yeah, it was a shitty day, add that to the fact that your landlord had called you hours before notifying you of your lack of payment, so you had ditched the idea of having a good day hours ago.
Even within the loudness of the office and own sleep deprivation, Dr Reid did notice your low pitched grunts and silent cries; he prided himself in his ability to observe people. Or maybe it was just you and his ever long infatuation that made everything be about you.
So he thought to himself, well- if you were having such a bad, torturous day, what could he do to help?
He could make you a coffee- no, he had already prepared one for you as soon as you came in that morning, and you were probably going to think he thought you looked awful and you needed energy and you would start to hate him and there would be no more dreams about picnics and solving murders together. No, he couldn’t make you a coffee.
Buy you flowers? Spencer could definitely make a run for the little market right around the FBI´s headquarters, but; wouldn’t that be too suggestive? He liked you of course, but he wasn’t aware of your feelings and coming off as too pushy may scare you into never talking to him ever again and he would rather change his name and move to nowhere before ever having to endure that type of embarrassment.
So no, none of the things that the “How to make your girlfriend feel better” handbook said worked, so what was he supposed to do? Make you his girlfriend and see if that would help? – No- wait what.
“He looks deeply in thought” Said Garcia as she looked right into the kitchen from her spot on Morgan´s desk.  “Probably fantasizing about going on a date with (Y/N)” He replied, and while they both laughed together at Spencer´s absence of charisma, you started turning red from just hearing the conversation while passing by. Was the doe-eyed, lanky boy standing opposite to you truly hoping to have a date with you? Still, you couldn’t really believe anything Derek had to say.
That´s why, when entering the kitchen, you made the great decision to ask Reid;
“What are you thinking about, handsome?”
God. If you could have taken a picture of that face Spencer made when he turned around and saw that it was in fact you, and not some prank Emily was pulling on him, you swear you would have. Red cheeks, surprised eyes and a big toothy smile you were greeted with. Maybe you had died, and this was an angel receiving you with open arms in the depths of heaven.  Or it was just Reid. Fleeting the kitchen space quickly, you managed to catch him whispering to himself a quiet answer to your question.
That probably was enough to make your day better, possibly even your week, however, when you came into the office the morning after, you found on your desk an overpriced, full of chemicals ( As Spencer would state, despite his 50% coffee/50% sugar disgusting creation) caramel latte, along with a bouquet of white lilies.
And a beautiful boy grinning at you from the other side of the room.
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soapybutt17 ¡ 1 year ago
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Day One
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Summary: Initial Scenes with Rookie and the rest of 141 during the earlier days of the new Taskforce. Character: John Price x F!Wife!Reader. Simon "Ghost" Riley. Kyle "Gaz" Garrick. John "Soap" MacTavish. Kate Laswell. Word Count: 3,115 Chapter Warnings: Mention of Blood and Injuries. Mentions of Nightmares. Canon Divergence AU.
Masterlist | Series Masterlist
In the broad daylight, Captain John Price was tucked away in a nondescript corner of a small cafĂŠ, the smell of coffee and pastries enveloping him as he made his way inside. Kate Laswell already waiting for him. A cup of tea already in his hold for what was to come out of their conversation.
“Tea?” Kate inquired, surprised by his choice of beverage.
“Yeah, well I’m a long way from a proper pint.” He grunted, giving her a passive aggressing smile, he was genuinely craving one after the events with Barkov.
“Russia disowned Barkov.” Kate immediately spoke, going straight to the point of their meeting.
“Well they didn’t have much choice did they? He’s dead.” John quipped right back.
“You took a big bite out of that problem, John.”
“For now, but left unchecked.” He knew there were still loose ends that needed to be dealt with.
“They won’t be.” Kate assured him, pulling out a dossiers of several candidates, potential members for his new Taskforce. “General Shepherd pulled the files you asked for. What is this about?” Kate slid the it towards him, but her own curiosity for his plan was shown in broad daylight.
“A Taskforce.” He answered simply.
“We already have loose ends.” Kate shook her head, doubt more than evident in her features for his plan.
“And I will tie them.” He reassured right back.
“I can fund assets, not outlaws.”
It took him a moment, but if she was not able to meet his demands, there was no point in pushing further with the mission.
“Enjoy the tea then.” He slowly slid his cup away from him before Kate slid the dossier further towards him on the table.
“Zakhaev wants Barkov’s throne.”
“I almost buried him in Pripyat, with Macmillan.” He remembered the man dead, confirmed. There would have been no way in hell the man was still alive.
“That was the father. This is the son, ‘Victor’.”
“Lovely family.” He deadpanned.
“They’re big fans of Hadir’s.”
“Well, that would explain why he’s still alive.”
“They’re going to get him out.” It was the problem that needed a solution, but John knew that he couldn’t give them solution if they were not willing to compromise with his own needs.
“Then give me what I need.”
Kate finally relents, letting go of the dossier and allowing John to finally take a hold of. In one measure movement, he had pulled the array of folders inside, skimming through the number of folders looking for four that would be a part of his Taskforce.
“Who’s your crew?”
First on the list was Sergeant Kyle “Gaz” Garrick, a younger member of the force with an impressive track record. John admired his loyalty and fierce determination he was a soldier, still a young blood, who would follow orders without question, a quality that was crucial for the success of the Taskforce. A man that Price knew would be crushed and broken if not trained by the rightful people.
“Sergeant Garrick,” John responds.
“Kyle?”
“They call him “Gaz”. He never said anything.” It was not his secret to share, but he knew the story behind.
He handed the folder to Kate, knowing she would do her own precautionary check on her own end to reassure herself and to reassure the General that his choices were the best that could be made as he created the team.
 The second candidate was Sergeant John "Soap" MacTavish, a skilled operator with a reputation for getting things done. Price knew Soap well, having fought alongside him in some of the most dangerous missions. He saw potential in Soap to be the backbone of the team, a reliable and skilled asset.
“John MacTavish, SAS. Sniper-demolitions. Goes by ‘Soap’.” John handed the folder to Kate.
“Why?”
“That’s classified.” He was quick to respond, it was not his question to answer.
Skimming further to the pile the chuckle escaped from his lips as he saw the familiar name.
“There he is…”
The third was that of the masked Lieutenant Simon “Ghost” Riley. John had known Ghost for years, and his mysterious nature and exceptional stealth abilities made him an invaluable asset in covert operations. Ghost's skills in reconnaissance and intelligence gathering were unparalleled.
“Simon Riley.”
He was amongst the only one out of the three that did not have a photo that came along with his file.
“There’s no picture.” Kate pointed out.
“Never.” John’s only response and it was the only answer he needed to give for the topic.
As he skimmed through the files, he couldn't help but think about his wife, Lieutenant Rookie. She was a highly capable officer, and unbeknownst to the rest of the team, she had already been part of some successful covert missions. Price knew that she was more than just a decorated Lieutenant. She possessed a profound understanding of strategy and possessed a level of intuition that couldn't be taught.
Price hesitated for a moment, his mind wrestling with conflicting thoughts. He wanted his wife closer to him, to protect her and have her by his side. It was a selfish desire, and he knew it, but he also recognized the immense value she would bring to the Taskforce.
“Lieutenant Y/N “Rookie” Y/L/N.” He showed your folder to Kate. In the years of knowing you, of being in a relationship, and eventually tying the knot, the both of you had decided it was best for both of your interest to keep your relationship a secret. But for this moment, for the loose ends that would possibly end in death for any of them, all he would want is to have you by his side should the time ever come to him, to you, or to the rest of the team.
“SAS. Sniper, the best marksman you can ever find and a trained medic.” He began, taking a little longer to look at your photo attached to the folder before finally handing it to Kate. “She’s not just here because of her abilities, she will be the heart of this Taskforce. Her insight, her instincts—they are invaluable. Trust me on this.”
With a nod of approval from Kate, John had sealed the team he has created to help him in ensure that all the loose ends that were in the present and those that would come in the future would be dealt with in the best way possible.
“Now the rest…” He trailed off, knowing that he had shown the best of the best that would be in his roster, but it was enough to give them the much needed confidence in his choice. “That’s need to know. Unless we got a deal.”
“What are you calling this Taskforce?”
“1-4-1.”
And so, Taskforce 141 was born, a group of highly skilled and dedicated operatives handpicked by Captain Price, each bringing their unique talents to the table. Little did the world know that behind this elite team was also a personal motive, a desire to protect and be closer to the ones he cared about. It was a risky move, but Price knew that with these individuals, including his wife, they had the potential to change the tide of any battle they faced.
~
Sergeant Gaz Garrick's heart pounded in his chest as he approached the entrance of the new base, now a member of the highly acclaimed Taskforce. He couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and anxiety about being handpicked by the Captain himself to join this elite group of soldiers. However, the thought of standing alongside the prestigious individuals he had only heard legendary stories about filled him with hesitation and doubt. "Do I really belong here?" he wondered silently to himself.
Stepping inside the base, Gaz was immediately greeted by the brisk air-conditioned atmosphere, a stark contrast to the sweltering heat outside. The clacking of boots echoed through the corridors as soldiers went about their duties. With a slight gulp, Gaz navigated the unfamiliar layout until he found the office of one of his superiors. An infamous woman by the moniker Rookie.
As he approached the door, he took a deep breath, trying to quell the nervousness building up inside him. He knows gently and waited for the invitation to enter.
“Come in,” a warm and inviting voice called out from within the room.
Gaz entered the office to find Lieutenant Rookie, a seasoned officer with a kind face and a commanding but welcoming aura, sitting at your desk, engrossed in some paperwork. You looked up and smiled warmly when you saw Gaz standing there, a bundle of nerves and uncertainty.
“Sergeant Gaz, welcome to the team!” You greeted, rising from your seat and extending a hand in greeting.
Gaz shook your hand, feeling slightly relieved by your welcoming demeanor. “Thank you, Ma’am.” He replied with a hint of gratitude in his voice.
You studied him for a moment, as if trying to gauge his feelings. “I know it can be overwhelming to join a new team, especially one as new but slowly becoming prestigious as this,” you said, voice softening. “But rest assured, Sergeant, you’ve earned your place here. The Captain doesn’t choose just anyone. He saw something in you. We see something in you.”
Gaz managed a half-smile, appreciated your attempt to ease his doubts. “I’ll do my best, ma’am,” He replied earnestly.
“I have no doubt about that,” you beamed, her eyes glinting with confidence. “Now, let’s get you settled in. You’ll find your quarters just down the hall. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”
As they days went by, Lieutenant Rookie proved to be more than just a commanding officer to Gaz. You took time to get to know him, understanding that he was far from home and his family was hundreds of miles away. You easily became a motherly figure to him, offering advice and support when needed. Your guidance and caring nature had helped Gaz feel more at ease in his new surroundings, and he began to open up to you, sharing his worries and aspirations.
During training exercise and missions, Gaz found himself admiring and appreciating your leadership skills and expertise—it also didn’t hurt that you had become the ear that would always listen to his worries without thinking he was weak. Your experience was evident, and you never hesitate to impart your knowledge to him and to the rest of the team. Slowly, Gaz started to find his place among the other members, gaining their respect through his own hard work and dedication.
As time passed, Gaz's doubts began to fade away, replaced by a sense of belonging and pride in being part of the Taskforce. He realized that he had been chosen for a reason and that his skills were valuable to the team.
And it was all thanks to you.
~
The night was cold and dark at the military base where Simon Riley had been station. He had been asleep in his bed, but his rare peaceful slumber was soon interrupted by the harrowing and haunting memories that had plagued him for years. In his nightmare, he found himself back in the midst of a tragic event that had forever scarred him.
As the nightmare unfolded, Simon was back home, witnessing the devastating attack to get back at him that had taken the lives of his beloved family. He saw himself frantically trying to save them, but was overwhelmed by a sense of powerlessness. The confinements of a coffin was the next of his memories that was relived.
The guilt of feeling responsible for their deaths consumed him, the claustrophobia of being in such a confined space for days, and he thrashed wildly in his sleep.
His desperate cries and movement did not go unnoticed. In the adjacent room, Lieutenant Rookie, a growing mother-figure to Simon, heard the commotion and rushed to his side. You had always been there for him, providing support and guidance, and this time was no different—you had always been his exception for moments like this.
You sat down besides Simon’s thrashing form and gently shook him, calling out his name, “Simon! Wake up, it’s just a dream, you’re safe.” It was your comforting words that slowly eased him away from the nightmare.
Simon’s eyes flew open, his breath heavy and labored as he looked around, trying to comprehend where he was. Slowly, the images from his nightmare began to fade, but the pain his heart remained, more painful than ever.
You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him close in a comforting embrace—one of the few people he would even allow to touch him. You whispered soothingly in his ears, rubbing his shaking back in the process.
“It’s okay, I’m here. You’re not alone, Simon. You’re with me, you’re with us.”
Unable to hold back the overwhelming emotions any longer, Simon broke down in tears. The weight of the past, the loss of his mother, brother, nephew, and sister-in-law, and the burden of feeling responsible for their deaths came crashing down on him.
You held him tightly, allowing him to grieve as he needed to. His sobs echoed through the empty military base, a poignant reminder of the pain he had carried silently for so long, all on his own.
“Let it out, Simon.” It’s alright to feel the pain.” You said, your voice gentle and caring. “You don’t have to carry this weight alone. We’re here for you. You’re not alone anymore.”
As Simon clung to you, he felt a sense of relief in the moment of despair. A sense of relief he hadn’t experience in years. The walls he had built around his heart began to crumble, and he allowed himself to lean onto you for strength and the love he never thought he would ever deserve again, just as he had lost all those years ago when his mother passed away.
In that quiet moment, Simon Riley found solace in your arms, the mother-figure he had lost but had now regained in the most unexpected of places. As the night turned into a new day, Simon knew he had finally found a way to heal from the wounds of the past.
And it was all thanks to you.
~
As the sun set over the war-torn landscape of Los Vaqueros' Base of Operation, Sergeant Soap MacTavish and Lieutenant Rookie found themselves fleeing for their lives from the treacherous clutches of Shadow Company. The once trusted Private Military group had turned on them, leaving Soap with a painful wound on his shoulder and a relentless determination to survive.
Gritting his teeth against the pain, Soap leaned on you for support as you made your way through the abandoned streets. The buildings around them were mere husks, remnants of a once-thriving town now reduced to a battleground. Gunfire echoed in the distance, a chilling reminder that danger was never far away.
“Keep moving, Soap. We’re gonna get out of here alive, you here me.” You urged, your voice filled with both fear and determination. You held your weapon close, scanning the shadows for any sign of your pursuers.
Ghost's voice crackled over their comms, trying to keep the mood light in the face of danger. "Hey, Soap, how do you make a tissue dance? You put a little boogie in it!" he joked, but his concern for his comrades was evident.
Soap managed a faint smile, grateful for the distraction. "Thanks, Ghost. I owe you one for that."
You shot a quick glance at Soap, admiration and concern in your eyes. You had always trusted and believed in him even when everyone doubted the man and his antics.
As you neared the edge of the town, the sound of gunfire grew louder, and the stench of burning buildings and bloodshed filled the air. Las Almas, once a bustling community, now lay in ruins, a ghost town in more ways than one.
Finally, you spotted the church steeple in the distance, its silhouette a beacon of lost hope. Ghost’s car was parked nearby, ready to whisk them both away to safety. But getting there would be no easy task with the Shadows still looking for you both.
“Soap, take point. We need to make sure the area is clear before we make a run for it.” You instructed, voice steady despite the pain of the bullet that had now also grazed your arm while on the run.
Soap nodded, his resolve was firm as he led the way, carefully navigating through the debris-strewn streets. The sound of bullets whizzing in the background only fueled your determination. Both of you relying on each other’s skills and instincts to stay one step ahead.
Finally, you reached the church, your escape vehicle in sight. Ghost was behind the wheel, ready to spring into action at a moment's notice. "Hurry up, lovebirds! We've got a date with safety, and it's getting late!" he quipped, though the tension in his voice betrayed his worry.
You helped Soap into the backseat, taking a moment to catch her breath before climbing in beside him. Ghost revved the engine, and the car sped away from the desolate town, leaving the chaos of Las Almas behind.
As they drove towards the safe house, the adrenaline began to subside, and exhaustion set in. Soap leaned back, his injured shoulder throbbing, but relief washed over him knowing they had escaped the clutches of Shadow Company.
Soap, for the first time in a long while sighed in relief, his head somehow falling onto your shoulders, getting a momentary sense of peace even with the battle that would still come your way after this. It would be a long night, but they will get their retribution and they will make sure Alejandro’s base would be return back or they would all die trying.
“As much as I love Soap, he’s too young for me.” You had pointed out in the silence of the car ride, it had taken notice by both men.
“Aren’t we the same age?” Soap inquired, not really knowing much about you besides your accomplishment in the field.
“Barely.” You snort patting him on the head. “I’m about a half a decade older than you, you’re not my type, and I’m actually taken.”
Soap couldn’t help but blink at the tidbit of news about you.
“Who’s the fuckin’ bastard we need to beat up then?” Soap inquired.
“No one you need to know about,” You smirked pulling his head right back to your shoulder. “Now get some sleep, it’s gonna be a while before you get one once we start the plan of attack on Graves and his Shadows.”
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pluckyredhead ¡ 7 months ago
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I read your ollie and SA post and I def agree with how they don't treat that incident as rape but I'm also....I'm not excusing it but I don't like this history of making Asian women villains casually or not that DC does....
Having cool, complex villains is one thing but they disappoint me so much
Again I def don't think this at all negates what's happened to ollie, it's all terrible
Oh 100% agreed!
DC is in love with this trope of the sexy ambiguously evil rapey dragon lady Asian woman and her noble white baby daddy and the child torn between the two. See also: Talia, Cheshire, Shiva. (I know David Cain is not a good guy but Bruce essentially fills the role of the noble white baby daddy for Cass as well as for Damian.) (Also I should note that of all four of these characters, I would only classify Cheshire as an out-and-out villain - Shado was originally more morally ambiguous than anything else, Talia goes back and forth, Shiva was originally a heroic character. But DC has definitely used them all as villains at times.)
It's a huge part of why I try to be really careful in talking about Shado and this history, because again, it's important that we recognize that what happens in that story is rape because our culture is bad enough about consent already - but the writer (Mike Grell) clearly was not intending to portray Shado as a villain there and I don't want to toss out an interesting, complex Asian character because a writer steeped in rape culture made a mistake 35 years ago.
It comes back to holding multiple ideas in our heads at once, and all of these can be true at the same time:
DC has historically been enamored of a really racist, sexist trope.
Some of these characters have committed rape and we need to call it what it is (Shado, Talia although that's been retconned out, and there is some real murky stuff with Cheshire and Roy in Rebirth Titans).
(Actually it's not clear whether the Shado incident is in canon anymore either or if the New 52 totally overwrote it. If it's still in canon then she had an affair with Ollie's dad that resulted in Emiko and raped Ollie and maybe also made out with Connor, which...fucking yikes.)
These characters have all been written as complex and nuanced and sympathetic at times.
They've also been written as villains and it's not racist or sexist to acknowledge the things they've done on page (murder, nuking an entire country, whatever the hell Damian's upbringing was like), but it's fair to acknowledge that often the writing that sparked those random heel turns was racist and sexist.
It's okay to enjoy them as villains, or to want them to be more heroic, or both.
It's important to have diverse villains as well as diverse heroes.
It's more important to not turn every Asian female character into this trope.
So yeah, it's messy and complicated for sure! But I think that's why it's important to look at the context behind these stories instead of just saying "she did a bad thing, throw her away forever" or "I like this character so I refuse to acknowledge that this bad thing happened." Which is basically what you said but a lot more long-winded lol.
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littlespacereader ¡ 25 days ago
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To say I’m obsessed with The Bad Batch and the Clone Wars is an understatement guys…I AM OBSESSED! I live and breathe it!! So please, if any of you guys are fans of the prequels, The Bad Batch, The Clone Wars or of Star Wars in general, SEND ME THOSE REQUESTS!
In other news, I’ve been thinking about Echo and what it would’ve been like for him joining the Bad Batch as a flip (both cg and little). This fic focuses on that Caregiver side of him with Little Crosshair. There will be a Little Echo story coming very soon!
Please enjoy this brain rot story I whipped up! Love you guys!💞💞
Still Right Beside You💙
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Caregiver! Echo & Little! Crosshair with Caregiver! Tech and Hunter & Little! Wrecker
Tags-hurt/comfort, discovery, cuddles, hand holding
The dynamic in the batch started to change. It had always been the four of them, Hunter, Tech, Wrecker and Crosshair. But now? Now Echo joined their squad.
Everyone was more than happy to have Echo join, happy to have another clone feel at home in their group of misfits. But what they didn’t realize was how their dynamics would change.
Hunter and Tech are the team’s Caregiver and Crosshair and Wrecker the teams Littles. It’s always been even, two and two. But now with Echo being an added Caregiver and Little. That changed things.
They had a big talk about it, the clones gathering and having dinner together, when Tech brought up the subject.
“Echo, now that you’re a part of this squad I must ask you, I understand you’re classified as a Flip. Do you still wish to be one?”
Echo paused eating his food and really thought about his question. He knew right away Wrecker and Crosshair were the Littles of the group but… ”I haven’t been one in years…I don’t know if I’d be any good anymore.”
“Why don’t we start with your Caregiver side first then work your way up to regressing again, alright?” Hunter suggested.
Echo nods, “Yeah, that would be great actually.”
Before his accident at the Citadel, Echo had been the Caregiver to Fives, his rambunctious Little. It’s been so long since he cared for a Little, he wonder if he still could?
“I was thinking maybe we could do a couple of trial runs. See how you feel after and decide from there.” Hunter suggests.
Wrecker seemed to be excited at the idea of it all. Crosshair, on the other hand, remained hard to read. Keeping his head down, trying not to look at anyone.
“Sounds good to me.” Echo smiles.
A couple of days later they were off their mission and had a day to decompress and relax. As per usual, the two Littles would regress and the two Caregivers would take care of them.
Today, Echo has a shot at it.
Wrecker regressed right away, being a Little with a big kid headspace. He immediately went over to Echo, insisting on playing every game they had on the Marauder.
Echo found himself slipping back into that Caregiver part of himself, a part he was happy to see he still had. He played a board game with Wrecker, helped him with a video game level he was stuck on, and even read a chapter of Wrecker’s favorite book to him.
Crosshair, on the other hand, refused to regress like Wrecker. He begrudgingly sat in his bunk and cleaned his sniper.
Tech and Hunter tried their luck to getting him to relax and regress. But Crosshair is nothing if not stubborn. He refused, keeping a close eye on Echo as he did. It didn’t escape Echo’s eyes that Crosshair was refusing to regress, especially with him around.
Eventually the Hunter and Tech managed to get the Crosshair to regress, but it was only alone with Hunter.
The three Caregivers of the group tried again, two separate times to get Crosshair to regress around Echo, but it appeared the stubborn sniper wasn’t going to do it.
One late night in the cockpit of the Marauder, Echo and Tech got a moment alone to talk. Tech was wrapping up some last minute reports on his datapad while Echo was just staring into space, lost in thought.
“Hunter and I have a plan.” Tech spoke, breaking the silence.
“For the next mission?” Echo sat up.
“For Crosshair.” Tech replied casually.
“Tech…” he sighs, “I don’t think you should bother anymore. He’s made his point. I don’t think he wants me to join in and be another Caregiver to him and that’s perfectly fine.”
Tech goes quiet for a moment, “Is it?”
For some reason…that cut deeper than Echo would like to admit. “It’s not about me.”
“No, It is about you. It’s because you’re a reg Echo.”
Echo felt a piece inside of him start to crumble hearing that. “I figured….”
He knew they did exactly care for regular clones, especially because they had been bullied for years from them. He didn’t blame Crosshair for his hatred of him.
But he didn’t see himself as a reg anymore. He didn’t see himself as the 501st clone trooper he used to be. But he didn’t know exactly know what he saw himself as anymore.
“You see Echo, you’re not just a reg, you’re a ARC trooper. And when Crosshair was the age he was when he regresses, he was obsessed with the ARC Troopers. He would never admit it, but he wanted to be one more than anything.” Sits back and explains as he types away on his datapad.
“He once got lost from us on Kamino around the same age he regresses to. We didn’t find him, but an ARC trooper did and brought him back to us. From the little he’s told me and what I assessed, the trooper was kind to him and it impacted him greatly.” Echo paused for a moment both in shock and just processing the story. He nods his head as if connecting the pieces slowly but surely.
Tech looks up from his datapad before he continues. “He trust you to be a part of this team and to be on missions with us. You’re a defective clone like us, he sees you as one of our own. But when it comes to his regression it’s simply that he’s stubborn and more than anything shy around you.”
Echo sits there, in disbelief. “It’s because I’m an ARC trooper…and he’s…he’s shy?”
“Precisely.”
“So if that’s the case…what’s this plan of Hunter’s and yours?”
“It’s going to begin when we finish this mission and arrive back Kamino…” Tech starts to rambling the plan away. The more he goes on, the more Echo realizes, this could actually work.
~~~
The Batch all sat around their big barracks on Kamino. The mission was over and now they could finally rest and relax the stress away.
Wrecker sat playing with his plush Lula, making an elaborate story for her. Meanwhile Crosshair was trying desperately not to regress, sitting in his bed cleaning his weapons once again.
Echo and Hunter sat together at the table in the center of the room. Echo looked nervous, “Hunter, are you sure this is going to work?”
“No idea. But I know this is the only way to see.” Hunter tries to reassure. He looked at the time and then back to Echo, “Ready?”
Echo nods, “As I’ll ever be.”
Hunter nods before he stands, looking to the two Littles. “After our last mission we need to do a supply run. Wrecker, you, Tech and I will start packing the Marauder for the next mission. Echo you’re in charge. You’ll stay here with Crosshair.”
“What?!” Crosshair chimed in, standing from his bunk.
“Problem Crosshair?” Hunter asked.
“Why am I staying back? Surely Echo can take care of himself.”
“You’re both staying back. We won’t be long.” Hunter said firmly, “That’s an order.”
“Hunter-!”
Before Hunter can reply, all heads turned to Tech as entered the barracks pulling a crate behind him. He pulled it over to Echo bunk and dropped it there. “Here you go Echo, just like you ask.”
Tech didn’t explain more, and Crosshair couldn’t help but steal a glance or two to the new crate.
“What’s that?” Wrecker asked, standing up and walking over to the group.
“That is a crate of Echo’s old belongings.” Tech said, being vague for once. He walked over to the group. “Ready Hunter?”
“Ready.” Hunter looks to Crosshair, “Be good for Echo.”
Crosshair crosses his arms, but there’s a hint of something aside from his stubbornness, a hint of something else…….shyness?
The three go to leave, Hunter patting Echo’s shoulder and giving him another a small smile.
Then it was just the two of them.
The two stand there, staring at the door for a moment as if sinking it all in.
Then they look at each other.
Crosshair keeps his arms crossed as he looks over at Echo. When he meets his eyes, he quickly looks away, going back to his bunk and cleaning his weapons again.
Echo sighs. Looking as the sniper clean his weapons, he could see how he was on the cusp of regressing, how he was barley hanging on. This is his moment with Crosshair and he knew now’s the time to step up.
He walked from the table to his bunk and, more specifically, to the newly dropped off crate infront of it. He took a seat on his bed and started fiddling with the locks.
“Crosshair could you help me-.”
“No.” His replay came quick and immediate. Echo doesn’t need to look up to know Crosshair is probably glaring back.
He starts uncliping the latches on the crate, each one he does loud and deliberate. And with each one, he can see it starts to peak the interest of the sniper.
“Sure you can’t help me with this?” Echo asks again.
Crosshair’s reply comes a bit slower this time, as if thinking about it. But his stubbornness wins over again. “…no.”
Remembers back to Fives, his best friend, fellow arc trooper, and Flip best of all. He remembers when he would regress and be stubborn on occasion. A small smile crests his face at the memory. But with it, he remembers how he managed to break him out of it.
With a big and dramatic *sad sigh* “Okay…guess I’ll have to look at all my old Arc Trooper gear all by myself. And here I thought I could have someone to help me….oh well.” And with that he flipped the last latch and opened the crate.
He pulled the top open and with it, all the memories of his days with the 501st came flooding back to him. First he picks up a holopicture of the team. How young they all looked, how he missed them all so much, especially how he missed Fives.
He put that down, and instead grabbed his old helmet. He looked into the front of it, seeing the damage it sustained during the battle at the Citadel. They never found him or his armor, but they found his helmet.
Guilty plagued him for a moment, thinking back to Fives, what he did without him all those years, thinking he was dead, then what happened to him….
“Is that your helmet?”
Echo jumped, looking over at Crosshair who leaned against the wall next to him. When did he walk over?! But looking into the sniper’s sharp eyes, he could see he was on the track to regressing.
“Yeah, it’s my old helmet. Not much to it is there?” He joked, smiling back to Crosshair.
“Did you create the design on the top of it?” He asked, looking at the blue paint.
“I did. It closely resembles my brother Fives’. Our helmets looked similar.” He pats the bed next to him and scoots over, inviting him over. “Here, come sit.”
Crosshair looked a bit shy at first, trying to hold himself back. But Echo’s smile and reassurance starts to bring him out of his shell. He sits next to him, looking at the helmet in Echo’s hands.
“Here,” he holds his helmets out, “you can hold it.”
Crosshair carefully takes the helmet from him, looking at it in awe. He moves it around, looking at every detail. “What happened to it?”
“There was an explosion at the Citadel. I was trying to protect the soldiers and people in my party but I didn’t realize there was a bomb on the shuttle.” He explains a bit sad.
“Do you remember anything about it?” Crosshair ask softly.
“No. I don’t remember anything after it. I just remember the Citadel and then I remember you guys saving me on Skako Minor. But nothing in between.” Echo explains.
“I…I didn’t believe you were even there, I didn’t believe Rex when he kept saying you were alive……..I’m sorry,” Crosshair looks back up to Echo.
“No apology necessary. I don’t know if I would’ve believed it myself if I was in your shoes.” Echo smiles, patting his shoulder, “But I’m honored to be here, honored to be a part of this squad.”
The two go on to look at the rest of his armor. His original armor got destroyed in his accident at the Citadel but most clones troopers always has a back up set.
He showed Crosshair his gauntlets, his blasters, his kamas, and more. All while Crosshair looked in awe, Echo’s helmet by his side, making comment here and there, asking questions about everything.
The more they looked at things, the more Crosshair started to regress and get closer to Echo. Eventually they were shoulder to shoulder with each other, Crosshair leaning against Echo’s side.
“Alright,” Echo looked back to Crosshair and smiled, “I saved the best for last.”
He lean forward and unwrapped his chest plate. He lifted it up and looked to Crosshair with a smile. The blue hand print on the chest plate and the arc trooper blue pauldrons. It was hard not to recognize the unique design.
Crosshair froze looking at the chest plate. His eyes widened as his hands ghosted along the blue hand print on the front.
He looked back to Echo, a small blush on his face. “It was you…” he said softly, looking at Echo in shock and awe. “You’re the ARC trooper that found me.”
Echo is a generation 1 clone, one of the first clones ever made. Crosshair and the rest of the batch are one of the newer generations.
“I don’t remember a lot of moments of my life before, but I remember you, the small silver haired cadet.” He smiles, wrapping his arm around him. “I saw you in the hallway. And the two of us spend the afternoon trying to find your brothers. Remember? Remember the game we played?”
“We played scout mission.” He says softly, still reeling from the shock of this.
“That’s right, you and I were trying to scout out Kamino as we looked for your brothers.”
Crosshair looked at Echo is utter shock and awe. “I remember that day. I remember ever moment. I…” he starts to blush, “I wanted to be like you.”
“You’re better than I could ever be Crosshair, your shooting skills and abilities are something so beyond any ARC trooper’s capabilities. I couldn’t be more proud of the clone you turned out to be.”
There was a hint of tears in Crosshair’s eyes as he looked back to Echo. He looked as though the wanted to reach out and hug him but was shy to do so.
Echo closed the distance, wrapping his arm and scoop around Crosshair, brining the Little close. Crosshair cuddles close, resting his head against Echo’s shoulder like he did all those cycles ago.
“I’ve got you Crosshair, I’ve got you. I protected you back then, and I’m going to protect you now.” Echo adds softly, a hand rubbing up and down his back.
The two stay like that for a moment. Echo just holding the Little sniper close to him, protecting him, all these years later.
~~~
Two hours later Hunter, Tech and Wrecker walk through the hallways of Kamino, back to their room.
“What’s the percentage that this plan worked?” Hunter asks, holding a regressed Wrecker’s hand as he walked.
“87 percent.” Tech answers back.
“That’s not bad! It’s not zero!” Wrecker enthusiastically exclaims.
“Echo has a very high chance of getting through to Crosshair consider he is the ARC trooper that found him all those years ago.” Tech explains like it’s nothing.
Both Hunter and Wrecker stop, looking at the yellow goggle wearing clone shocked.
“What?!”
“That was Echo?!”
“Well…I thought it was obvious.”
“HOW WAS THAT OBVIOUS TECH?!” Wrecker yells, not out of anger but out of confusion.
“Wrecker, bring it down a notch.” Hunter squeezes his hand.
The three continue, walking down the hallway and then right into their barracks. What they find is an adorable sight. Echo is sound asleep in his bed with Crosshair cuddled on top of his chest.
The Little sniper has one of his chewable necklaces in his mouth and his arm wrapped around Echo’s chest.
The Caregiver slept with his scoop around Crosshair and his hand holding a datapad with some of Echo’s old mission logs.
“THEY LIKE EACH OTHER NOW!” Wrecker yelled, loud and happily.
“Wrecker!”
“Wrecker!”
Thankfully Crosshair didn’t wake up, having been used to Wrecker’s loud voice for cycles. But Echo jumped awake.
Tech took Wrecker off to the other side of the barracks to play, while Hunter walked over to Echo and a sleeping Crosshair.
He smiles at the two before patting Echo’s shoulder, “Welcome to our family Echo.”
After Skako Minor Echo didn’t know where he fit in, what he was anymore. But in this moment he realizes. He may not be the clone he once was, but he was something better now. An ARC trooper and more importantly a Caregiver again. But best of all, he’s right where be belongs, with his family.
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mikhailwrites ¡ 1 year ago
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Waiting for Connection 7 / Ghost x Soap NerdAU
Ghost is retired and plays milsim videogame. Soap is still in the force and sometimes plays that same videogame...
Previous chapter | AO3
Ghost accepts the invitation from John and is immediately thrown into lively banter.
“…look, all I’m saying is that having APC is all nice and fun, but not when at least one person in every team has Titan. Armour is slow and loud,” a male voice says with conviction.
“So going on foot is faster? If you need to cover a serious distance, armour is your best bet,” another voice disagrees. This one has a strong accent and a particular lilt to it. If Ghost had to guess, this bloke’s first language is Spanish.
“Oi, lads, cut it out, will ye?” Soap’s Scottish brogue is easily recognisable. The corners of Simon’s mouth twitch. “Ghost, hello, glad you could make it.”
As if he had anything better to do.
“How’s it going?” Simon says because, at this point, it would be weird not to say something when he was directly addressed.
��Oh, so you’re the Ghost!“ the first voice says with a hint of excitement. „Nice to finally meet you!“
Ghost feels his eyebrow raise. „Finally?“
„Yeah, Soap wouldn’t shut up about you, mate. Was starting to think you’re a sock puppet or something,“ the bloke laughs.
„He’s exaggerating,“ Soap interjects, with a hint of defensiveness that picks Ghost’s interest. “Anyway, that’s Roach.”
„I’m not exaggerating,“ Roach stands his ground.
„He’s really not,“ the second voice confirms.
“Och away ‘n bile yer heid!” Soap says with exasperation.
“So you introduce Roach and not me? Duly noted, Sergeant!” the man chuckles. “I’m Alejandro, by the way. And the last one without a mic is Rodolfo, or Rudy if you want; his headset broke yesterday.”
“Hey, looking forward to seeing your allegedly legendary skills,” pops up in the chat from Rudy.
“A pleasure,” Ghost says, carefully filing away any and all information. “So, are we going to play?”
“Yeah, sure, hermano. Soap said you had some sweet custom level?” Alejandro
Of course, he said that. At this point, Simon is quite interested in what exactly John shared about him. “I might. Although it’s meant for two people, five will breeze through. Especially since Soap and I know it through and through.”
He’s right, they breeze through the compound in some fifteen minutes. Ghost provides sniper support, not that it’s truly needed with the level of teamwork the rest of their fireteam has. Roach and Soap are quick and ruthless, kicking in the doors and disposing of any enemy they stumble upon. Alejandro and Rudy, on the other hand, have a much more cautious approach. It makes sense since, unlike Soap, they are not familiar with the level.
Alejandro is taking the point, relaying any information or command through gestures. They clear building after building in a very methodical manner. Something about how they move through the compound and recon the situation reminds Ghost of some guerilla warfare tactics he’s witnessed and utilised many years ago in South America.
He’s tempted to ask about their background later. Not that he’s really going to ask. It’s most probably classified, they are not on a secure channel, and he wouldn’t appreciate them poking into his past either.
Roach is SAS through and through, Ghost can easily recognise the training patterns. Moreover, it’s clear that he works closely with John. There’s a level of unspoken communication and a limited ability to predict what the other man will do the next second. That only comes after being partnered with someone for a long time and through some serious shit, Ghost knows this from experience.
They finish the mission flawlessly and decide to jump into the multiplayer for a change. It’s a shitshow, for the lack of better words. It always is; Ghost and Soap are simply too good not to wipe the opposing teams, even if they are outnumbered. And they’re not outnumbered today.
Five elite operators are enough to take on an enemy stronghold, let alone a fireteam. Some days, Ghost feels a little like a bully, though today, he’s just having fun. Banter is running rampant, replacing most tactical communication with jokes and idle chat. And still, they win.
Alright, one time it’s a close call when the opposing team plants mines on the perimeter borders, and Soap learns about them the hard way. Roach runs to him, even though it’s clear that Soap didn’t survive, and drops to his bloodied body.
“Nooooo!” Roach cries out theatrically. “You can’t die here, Sergeant! Think of your sweetheart at home, waiting for you! You’re getting married when we get back! And this is your last mission before retirement! Don’t you give up!”
Ghost feels a deep, low rumble in his chest as he starts laughing. Alejandro and Rudy join in.
“Are you sure you’re not meant for Hollywood, Roach?” Rudy asks over the chat.
They don’t get to hear the reply because bullets start flying. Honestly, Ghost is surprised it took the enemy team this long. They must’ve heard the explosion.
Even if they are one man short, they still prevail. Roach is still very much reenacting some corny film, swearing to avenge Soap as he runs into a building where the enemy is holed up. He gets shot, of course, but Ghost, with Alejandro and Rudy close behind, they manage to clean and clear the house before Roach is killed. Alejandro uses his medkit to get him up.
“Well, that was fun,” Roach says, and it’s apparent he’s smiling.
They all agree just as they agree it’s time to call it a day.
“I hope we get to play with you some more in the future, Ghost,” Alejandro says.
“Don’t see why not; it was a good game,” Ghost replies. They start to drop off the channel, Rudy first, then Alejandro and Roach, until only Ghost and Soap remain.
“Um, Ghost? Got a minute?” Soap asks, voice slightly unsteady.
“Sure,” Simon replies, dragging the mouse away from the button that would quit the online session and terminate the voice chat.
“I’m on mandatory leave starting next week, so I thought I could stop in Manchester on my way home. We could grab a pint or something.”
“Why would you think I’m from Manchester?” Ghost asks with the tiniest hint of suspicion. As far as he knows, he never told John where he lives.
“With that accent? Don’t insult me, Simon,” Soap snorts.
“Fair enough,” Ghost relents. The accent is one thing, but Simon is well aware he’s been dropping some details that could give away his location. Soap is definitely smart and sharp enough to put the pieces together. “We could meet up if you want.” Ghost tries not to sound overly thrilled even though he is. An occasional chat with locals in a pub is all nice, but to sit down with someone he could, perhaps, call a friend, someone from the military, someone who understands at least some things about Ghost that civilians can’t? That sounds real good.
“Alright, it’s a date, then,” Soap exclaims, loud and obviously pleased. “I’ll go by train. Should I book a hotel near the station?”
Ghost hums in disagreement, and before he can stop himself, he’s offering. “Waste of money. If you’re fine with a couch, you can crash at my place.”
Soap chuckles. “If I’m fine with a couch? I’m a soldier, Ghost. A couch is considered an unrivalled luxury on most days.”
 “Couch it is, then.”
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dmbakura ¡ 6 months ago
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doing this meme with V cuz I FEEL LIKE IT WEHHH. warning for necrophilia, minor incest implications (with Bhaal) and SA mention 👍
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1. vers-bottom, and very much a sub.
2. he's a dark urge so you can imagine violence and gore gets him off but even without the durge stuff he's still quite morbid. he has a bit of a silly side in bed too tho and if you can make him laugh (with terrible gallows humour especially) he's all for it. turn offs? uhh he doesn't really like chivalrous hero types at all and anything like that is likely to just make him really bored.
3. he's kind of a rapid fire cummer 🤨 lord have mercy that boy can squirt
4. his chest is pretty sensitive, especially around the scarring. his ears and neck as well
5. again, offering him gore, either killing someone/something or hell, even just talking about it really gets him going. but if you ACTUALLY want to get to know him, paying attention to his emotional needs and offering him a place to spill his thoughts and he's pretty damn easy lmao. he's not hard to seduce at all, he's quite lonely.
6. uhh pre tadpole, actually quite a lot. he kind of worked it into his killing schedule 💀 again, he's pretty lonely and doesn't feel safe with a lot of people so he only really found solace in dead bodies. post tadpole, after meeting Astarion, Abdirak, Halsin, etc he has way too many boyfriends to really bother with it at all
7. V would answer "yes". he probably likes riding the most, anything where his partner can touch him or look at him easily
8. 🧍‍♂️I don't really know if having sex with dead bodies counts as losing virginity. but anyways his first real sexual encounter with another person was at the temple of Bhaal. he got there late teens/early 20s and was curious and did it with another cultist
9. anywhere. bed, floor, sacrificial altar. he doesn't care and not much bothers him in terms of comfort
10. yep... it's not so much that he has an exhibition kink (I mean maybe a little) but he literally just doesn't care if he's caught
11. loud, extremely loud
12. ehhhm... I guess the closest thing is he learned a magic penis spell and uses it sometimes?
13. he *generally* prefers receiving. being a bhaalspawn, he's somewhat afraid of what he can do to another person, hence post tadpole he's pretty passive in sexual encounters with say- Astarion. however, he also has streaks where he REALLY wants to please his partner, so yeah i guess once he's more comfortable with his own autonomy he's more comfortable giving and being in control.
14. pretty often once he's with his boyfriends... you can imagine lmao
15. he wants to be understood, he wants someone to be able to handle him and make him feel like he won't fly out of control. he gets really comfortable when people take him seriously and pay attention to his needs. he's been neglected a lot of his life and he tries to portray himself as a mindless killing machine, but he really just wants to be known.
16. starved. he's a bit like Astarion in the sense that might come across as a mindless hedonist, but he really wants genuine connection and he's quite greedy for it when it's offered to him.
17. he doesn't have tits or a dick so idk what to put here 💀
18. pre tadpole: Bhaal. worshipping Bhaal. utter devotion to Bhaal... yeah he desperately wants the approval and love of his father and it comes out in really unhealthy ways. post bg3 if he somehow finds the time to masturbate he's doing it while thinking about either Astarion, Abdirak or Halsin.
19. he prefers men but he's open to pretty much anything else. I'd probably classify him as bi with a male lean. he thinks women are hot too and kind of laments he doesn't have many female partners 😔 maybe I should give him a girlfriend too.
20. pain REALLY gets him off. he usually likes being punished or rough treatment during sex, and then being thoroughly taken care of afterwards. specifically he likes his pussy being spanked. also likes being bitten.
21. currently doing an RP with him where he and Astarion sneak in Gortash's bedroom and have sex 💀 but honestly there's probably been weirder places
22. neck probably. V would just say "everywhere. kiss me everywhere."
23. he was sexually abused by Kressa Bonedaughter during his captivity in the colony. he only remembers this when meeting her again and he Doesn't Take It Well
24. as mentioned above, yes. Abdirak basically makes it a requirement when they have their penance sessions LOL
25. decently often. not really all the time tho. it just sort of happens when it happens
26. so V had? a weird experience with being trans? his self consciousness only sort of came into play AFTER he got bonked on the head by Orin and lost his memory. his senses got scrambled, he was kind of surprised (?) he didn't have a penis? so for whatever reason he got a bit thrown off about that and thought Astarion might be weirded out by it, even though Astarion wasn't. he was also really unimpressed when he got his period and just went "how the fuck did i deal with this again?"
27. V likes a drawn out session... so long, ideally.
28. as mentioned above, he has a silly side. I've drawn this with him cracking puns while Astarion fucks him as well
29. I've mentioned it before but Orin did his top surgery and it was part mastectomy and part murder attempt. he got some pretty sick scars out of it tho!
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euphoricimagination ¡ 1 year ago
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Summary: Two weeks have passed since the preliminaries, Nationals starting tomorrow with the opening ceremony. Since Nekoma didn’t classify, you technically couldn’t go there, but nothing it's going to stop you from seeing your foxes again.
Kenma x reader; Haikyuu x reader
Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11
From the beginning
“Guys, are you all here?” you call them as you enter into the gym
“Yes chibi, what happened?”
“Nothing much, just some info. On Friday all the gyms will be closed, the school is going to do an inspection, so we don’t have practice on the afternoon”
“Thanks for telling us chibi” says Yaku as you sit next to him “Nationals start tomorrow, right?”
“Yeah, did your friends arrive already?” asks Kenma sitting on your other side, eyes on his phone
“They should be arriving to Saitama soon; they need to be in the opening ceremony tomorrow”
“Oh yeah, their first match is on Friday morning, right? Well at least you can go and see them on the weekend” Kuroo says with a smile
“Oh, I’m going to see their first match, thank God we can’t practice on Friday”
“How? It’s in the morning, you would have to ditch school to be able to see them” Yaku asks confused before sighing at the realization of your plan “Yn-chan, do you think your friends will be ok with you ditching school for them?”
“Well, Kita-san will probably scold me a bit, the rest like me too much to get mad at me”
“Oh…then what about your mom? Do you think she will be okay with you not coming to school?”
“Oh yeah, you don’t know my mom, she and my brother are going too. The moment they knew about the guys going to the Nationals she asked for the time so we could go”
“Your…mom…is letting you and your little brother ditch school to go to see a volleyball game?” asks Yaku dumbfounded
“Yeah, pretty much”
“It’s just a day, and it’s not like chibi-chan or her brother neglect school and have bad grades anyway” adds Kuroo
“I feel like we should have expected something like this from chibi-chan”
“Well, Yn always does something different to what I expect, it’s hard to read her sometimes” Kenma says nonchalantly
“I don’t know if I should take it as a compliment or not…anyways go back to practice” you stand up, making them stand up too
++
Friday came in, and since Saitama it’s quite far, you had to wake early to arrive at a good time. Yesterday after practice you made some onigiris for the boys, and just like he promised, Kenma kept you company. Despite saying he was going to play the whole time, he still helped with the instructions and other little things.
You go out of your house stretching your arms when you saw two figures in front of you
“What are you doing here?”
“C’mon chibi-chan, you really thought we will let you go alone?” says Kuroo smiling at you, coming over to rub your hair before whispering “Kenma wanted to go with you, but I didn’t tell you anything”
“Guys hi! I didn’t know you were coming” your mom greets them
“Hey miss, yeah sorry, you don’t mind us joining you, right?”
“Of course not! You guys are always welcome, we should get going though”
You start walking towards the subway, Kuroo talking to your brother about his interest in volleyball and if he wanted to play, trying to see if he can get him into playing, while you and Kenma walk together, him looking at his phone like usual
“Thank you for coming with me, Ken”
“Of course” says pausing his game to look at you with a tired smile “It’s important to you”
You arrived to Saitama and went to the gym, which had a lot of people inside ready to play and watch. Inarizaki's first match was at 10:00 am, and you arrived at 9:40, plenty of time to look for them. You walked around through the sea of bright uniforms when you saw a group with the contrasting black uniforms ahead of us.
“…so we should try to break their formation as soon as we can” you hear Kita say as you get closer
“Yeah, I was thinking I could use…chibi-chan?” Atsumu noticed you right then, making the team look to where he was looking “CHIBI-CHAN!” says standing up alongside Osamu and Suna. Atsumu is the first one to hug you, followed closely by the other two, crushing you into a big group hug. The rest of the team, except for Kita and the first years that you didn’t know, come to join the hug
“Oh my god guys, let go” you chuckle
“Shut up and let us love ya, we missed ya lots Chibi” Atsumu squish you even harder
“I missed you too, but I still need to breath”
“Guys, let her go” says Kita making the team slowly move away while rubbing your hair, your three idiots best friends standing close by “I should scold you for not being in school, but I’ll let it go for now. I hope you have good grades and that you didn’t force your friends to miss school with you”
“My grades are good and no, I didn’t force them” you go to give him a quick hug
“Good, then I’m glad you’re here, we did miss you a lot”
The four of you go back to where your cats are, Atsumu and Osamu playing around with your brother while Suna talks to your mom. Kuroo and Kenma were sitting there watching the scene happen in front of them.
“Tetsu, Ken, come here” you say making them come to you, Kenma holding your pinky sneakily “cats, these are Tsumu, Samu and Suna; foxes, Kuroo and Kenma”
“Hi, Kuroo Tetsuro, Nekoma's captain”
“Kozume Kenma”
“Hello, hope ya have taken good care of our princess” Atsumu says with a challenging smile
“Of course we have, not like she needs to be taken care of though” Kuroo answers with his challenging smile
“Tsumu, stop being an ass, they’re chibi-chan friends too” Osamu hits his head “Sorry he’s an idiot, we saw the match against Itachiyama, ya were really good”
“Thank you, we did the best we could”
“Don’t you guys have a match in a few minutes? Don’t make me come here for nothing”
“Yeah, we should go and warm up, Kita-san will get mad we don’t go soon; we’ll see ya after winning chibi-chan” Osamu says kissing your temple
“Chibi, let’s talk later” adds Suna pulling you into a quick hug before planting a kiss in your forehead
“Let’s go and sit” you take your backpack to go to the seats in the middle of the rows with Kuroo on one side and Kenma on the other, the latter laying his head on your shoulder.
“All of them are super fit, no wonder they are intimidating” Kuroo says
“They only look scary and mean, they’re not”
“I felt they were judging me” Kenma moves a little closer
“Tsumu is just like an overprotective brother, give him time, he’s nice” you assure him. The boys enter the court with the band starting to play, making their presence be known.
“Their band really helps them set the mood”
The match starts with the boys saying hi to the opposite team, Inarizaki serving first with their best server, Atsumu. He does a jump serve, targeting the libero of the other team, who simply can’t dig it because of how strong it was.
“That’s a nasty serve, he’s strong” comments Kuroo
“He has better at control too”
And their dominance lasted for the whole match, winning the two sets. You went to congratulate them as soon as they finished, giving them all a hug and saying how good they were.
“Here pass them around. Hope you like them” you say as you take the containers with their onigiris out
“Chibi-chan, ya cooked for us? Ye’re the best” Atsumu kisses the top of your head before taking a bite “These are better than the ones Samu makes!”
“It’s literally my recipe, ya idiot!”
“No no, they’re definitely better” Suna passes his arm through your shoulder, making Osamu scoff jokingly. It felt like you were back in Inarizaki with their silliness, making you remember the promise you made to Osamu back then when you were confused about your feelings
“Ah yeah, Samu, can I talk to you? Now?”
“Yeah, sure what is it?”
“In private”
“Hey! Why can’t I know!” pouts Atsumu
“Because I promised to talk to him first”
“Can I know? I feel like I should” Suna looks at you suspicious
“I’ll tell both of you later, I promise. Let’s go Sam!” you push him away “You two try to sneak up on us and I swear that I’m not talking to you ever again”
“Ya’ll never do that, ya love us too much” Atsumu says
“True…Kita-san! Can you keep an eye on these two for me?”
“You got it Yn-chan, go ahead” says Kita while the two boys look at you annoyed. You enter the gym with Osamu, staying on the top near the seats where you were with the guys.
“What is it Chibi? I could tell that ya were quite tense when we met the cats''
“Eh…Does…”
“Spit it out”
“Does Rin still like me?” You look at the court pretending to focus on the Fukurodani’s match, feeling Osamu eyes on you
“I’m pretty sure he does, yes. I shouldn’t tell ya this, but I think ya need to know...After ya told us to not plan practice matches for that training camp of yers in Tokyo…he asked Tsumu, Tsumu out of all people, if he should confess to ya”
“Ahh…I see”
“Ya still don’t know if ya like him Chibi?” he passed his arm through your shoulders in a comforting manner, when you received a text from Kenma making you smile unconsciously.
“No, no, it’s not that…it’s just…I…I’m pretty sure I… fell in love with Kenma” you whisper
“Kenma? The blonde one?” he asks, a little shocked by your confession, making you nod “how come ya think that?”
“I don’t know how to explain it, but the moment I met him…there was something, I don’t know what it was. After that we got close really fast, even Kuroo was surprised by how fast he warmed up to me. Being with Kenma just feels…so right, you know? With Rin, while I love being with him too, it’s not the same feeling. I just can’t think of Rin other than my best friend, even before I met Kenma”
“I see, well, ya can’t force yourself to look at him in another way, chibi-chan. Especially if ya feel that way with Kenma, that definitely means something”
“Do you think Rin will want to continue being my friend? I don’t want to lose him” you say with tears threatening to fall from your eyes
“Of course he will, he was yer friend first, I’m sure he’s intelligent enough to understand that ya don’t love him in the way he wants; and if he really loves you, he’ll want you to be happy, but ya need to tell him soon. Don’t overthink stuff Chibi” he pulls you closer, putting your face into his chest
“I just want everyone to be happy”
“But yer happiness matters too, chibi-chan, don’t forget that”
After finally pouring out all your feelings, Osamu goes to look for Atsumu and Suna so you can go and eat lunch all together, since the match was already over when you stopped talking. You go back to the things to get your things and the boys.
“Chibi-chan, you missed Bokuto’s match” says Kuroo
“Oh, I kinda watch it, I was talking to Samu over there” you look at them with a much more relaxed smile
“About what?”
“It’s not your business, Kuro” Kenma adds looking at you like he understood what happened
“Feelings and such, he helped me out with some stuff. Let’s go and have lunch with them”
You all go to the lunch area and find the whole Inarizaki already sitting there. Osamu waves at you so you can see them, making Atsumu turn around looking at you with a pout
“I’m hurt Chibi! Not only ya don’t tell me stuff but not even my twin tells me about it. I thought ya loved me too!” he cries
“I love you too Tsumie” you go to hug him “you’re just terrible at keeping secrets”
“I’m not!”
“You are, last year you almost told chibi-chan about her birthday surprise” adds Suna with a smirk
“It was OUR birthday surprise, and yet everyone spoiled it to me”
“YA agree on organized it because it was her first birthday outside of her country, ya idiot”
“Shut up!”
“I’ll tell you both soon, okay? I need to sort it out first”
“Fine…just remember that I’m here for ya too” he says kissing your cheek
“I know, I know, and I love you. Now eat, you have a match after”
With that Atsumu feels happy enough to stop pouting so you can eat in a somewhat peaceful environment. Atsumu, Kuroo, Kita and Aran ended up talking a lot between them, mostly about volleyball and the teams; Kenma was silently eating by your side while you were talking to Suna and Osamu, you knew he was probably uncomfortable with all the people around him.
“Ken, you okay?” you whisper to him, making him look up at you
“Yeah, it’s just too many people. You know I’m not good with them”
“I do, we can go eat somewhere else if you want”
“Nah, I can deal with it for you, I know you want to spend time with your friends”
“Are you sure? We really can go-”
“Kenma-san is amazing at COD!” you hear your brother say to Suna, making the both of you look at him “whenever he comes to our house, we play together before he goes to Yn’s room. Kenma-san aren’t you in rank 80? And won tournaments and such?”
“Ah…yeah, I’m about to hit Prestige actually” he suddenly takes your hand under the table, squishing it as he talks
“Are you kidding? How? I’m barely rank 30, and that took me a while” asks Suna amazed
“Well, going to tournaments definitely helps a lot with XP, since you have to play a lot of rounds before winning”
“Dude, can you add me as a friend? I know that I’m probably not as good as you, but I need to see you play”
“Yeah sure, you can’t be worse than Yn” Kenma smirks when you paused your eating
“Excuse me? Why was that shade for? I can’t be THAT bad if you ask me to play with you all the time”
“True, you’re pretty decent for someone who just plays with me, definitely not rank 30 though. And I just think is fun watching you get nervous while playing” he says with his soft smile
“I…I can’t deny it and that annoys me”
“I still like playing with you” he smiles at you “have you...”
Kenma seems much more relaxed as he continues talking about games with Suna and your brother, explaining how tournaments work, making you smile. A few minutes later your phone rings with a message
[Samu❤️] “The dude is a whole ass gamer, has won tournaments, is on the highest rank possible…and yet still likes to play with ya” “dude’s whipped for ya”
[You] “Okay, Rude” “😳”
He looks at you smirking, making you blush before joining the conversation with Kenma, asking him if he could join him while playing. After a while you go back to the gym while the boys go to prepare for the other match. On the way there you see Bokuto looking to the other side, so you went to say hi
“Yeah?…CHIBI-CHAN!” he wraps you in his arms “I thought you wouldn’t come because of school, so I wasn’t looking for you”
“And not come to cheer my friends? Besides I promise you something” you wiggle your way out of his arms to reach his snacks “Here you go”
“CHIBI-CHAAN! You’re the best. Y/b/n!! My little fan! You came too” says going to hug your brother. While he says hi to the rest you turn to Akaashi
“Akaashi!”
“Bokuto-san is infecting you, hi Yn-chan, thank you for coming, we probably don’t have to worry too much about the emo modes”
“Of course ‘kaashi, here I made some for you too”
After having a little chat with them, you go back to the gym to watch the rest of the matches. Inarizaki ended up winning the last match of today, passing to the next round. Since you have a long trip back home, and they had to go back, you say goodbye to them as soon as they finish.
“Ken, thank you for coming, I know you don’t like going out”
“It’s fine, it was quite fun” he says while blocking his phone
“I told you the guys were nice”
“They were. Are you going tomorrow?”
“Yeah, I want to be there tomorrow since I can’t go on Sunday morning, and I should make it for the finals in the afternoon”
“Why can’t you go on Sunday morning?” he asks confused
“You guys have practice”
“I’m sure Kuroo and the coach won’t mind you not going, they know you wanted to see them”
“But I’m your manager now, and I want to help you too. You guys are also important to me”
“Ahh… okay” says blushing
The next day goes pretty similar, despite you telling Kenma that he didn’t have to go with you, he decided to go anyway, insisting that Kuroo told him that ‘it was a good way to get ready for the next Nationals’. After the guys win their last match of the day and pass to the next round, you decided to tell them the plan right before leaving
“Guys, I can’t come tomorrow morning, but I’ll be here in the afternoon”
“What?! Why? Chibi-chaaan” whines Atsumu
“I have practice tomorrow morning”
“Then don’t go! We’re your friends, ya should come and see us!”
“They are also my friends Tsumu, and they are my team too. I’m going to help them just like I did with you”
“Don’t be so selfish Tsumu” Suna interrupts while back hugging you “if she’s coming in the afternoon, we just need to win on the morning”
“Exactly, she can’t just abandon her team, she wouldn’t have done that to us. You can ask the rest of your team to come, Yn-chan” says Kita
“I’ll ask them, thank you Kita-san, thank you Rin. Tsumu, you know that I love you, but I also love them, I can’t not help them” you move to give him a hug, which he return tightly
“I know”
“I need to go now, see you tomorrow, ok?”
++
You woke up early to go to practice the next morning, tired after the many travels. Once you step outside, you see Kuroo looking at his phone while waiting for Kenma. Almost as he can sense your presence, he turns around to see you
“Why are you up so early?” He asks
“You guys practice early”
“I thought you were going to see your friends match?”
“You are also my friends, and I’m your manager, so I’m helping you too”
“Aww chibi-chan” he hugs you “so you’re going to the finals then?”
“Yep”
“Cool, I’m going too, and probably Kenma, he loves you too much, the rest I don’t know”
“He lov-”
“Should we go?” says Kenma arriving
“Yeah” you started to walk. On the way there you talk about the video game Kenma is playing, the loss at the prelims, Inarizaki’s finals at the Nationals, and the upcoming Spring High Tournament. Almost everyone was already there when you entered the gym.
“Eh? chibi-chan? We thought you wouldn't come today, we were setting things up” says Yaku
“Your faith in me is that low, huh? I see how it is” you joke
“That's not it, we know you're the best” he pats your head “Everyone is here already except for Lev”
“Didn’t we tell him that the first years should be earlier today? That dude” Kuroo shakes his head
“I will never understand why the youngers need to do everything”
“Me neither, but it’s Lev so I don't really care” says Kenma making you roll your eyes chuckling
You enter the gym so the guys could start to warm up, saying sorry to Inuoka and Shibayama for making them wake up so early to arrange the gym. The team were doing their warm ups when Lev arrived, 10 minutes late and with an orange cat in his hands.
“LEV! WE TOLD YOU TO ARRIVE EARLY!” screams Kuroo at the boy
“HOW CAN YOU BE SO IRRESPONSIBLE!!” screams Yaku too, yet Lev seems rather unaffected. You normally let Lev get away with things, but it was way too early to do that today. You stand behind the boys and clear your throat, making them all pay attention and move away.
“Lev you’re 10 minutes late, care to explain?” you ask crossing your arms
“Y-Yn-chan, are you angry?”
“It's 7 in the fucking morning, I wake up this early on a Sunday to come and help you practice only for you to show up late? You better thank God that it takes a lot to make me angry. Go warm up now” you say in a monotone voice while taking the cat out of his hands
“Y-yes!” Lev answers scared, doing a 90° degree bow before leaving “I'm sorry Yn-san!”
Once he leaves you take a closer look at the cat, who was nuzzling in your chest, before relaxing and instinctively petting it, making it purr slightly. A smile appears on your face while turning around to where the rest of the boys were
“I should be mad, but there’s a kitty! Look at it, is so cute” you put it on the floor so he can walk around
“How did you go from terrifying to cute in such a short time?” says Kuroo
“We better tell Lev to bring more stray cats if they make you this happy chibi-chan” Yaku adds after sighing, watching you play with the cat
“I would love that, I love cats. Now go to practice” They turn around to tell the team to start today’s practice, but the two third years noticed Kenma looking directly at you, eyes full of adoration with a little, but the most genuine smile they have ever seen.
The cat ends up leaving after the guys started practicing, scared of the loud sounds, while you were taking some notes of how the team was doing; in the middle of their practice, coach Nekomata says to you
“Since Lev it’s half Russian, it gives him a great height, physical ability and strength that would put him easily above any Japanese person, but he’s so inexperienced and it shows” Just in that moment Lev is able to receive Inuoka’s serve but gets so distracted by this accomplishment that he doesn’t get up in time to block Yamamoto’s spike. A little later you watch Lev fail to make a spike, making Kenma refuse to give him another set, saying that Lev will just miss again. After the practice match ends, the coach calls them.
“Good practice guys, good practice. By the way, next Friday we have a practice match against Kunihira Senior High”
“So soon? The training camp starts on Monday, and we don’t really plan practices that quickly” you ask confused
“Yeah, it was out of nowhere. Plus, I want Lev to take place in the match”
“Really?! Yes!” exclaims Lev while the rest are shock by the news
“However, Lev still has problems syncing to tosses; so Kenma, you and Lev are going to pair up to help Lev adjust”
“That just impossible” says Kenma, receiving an annoyed sound from Lev
“Yn-chan, wouldn’t be good that those two pair up?” ask you the coach
“I mean, yes, it would be good if Lev can spike properly, he can add more strength to the team, and that’s something that we need to get better at if we want to go to the Spring Interhigh”
“Then it’s settled, you two have to practice together. Continue” with that he walks away with the other coach. When you turn around to say something to Lev, you notice Kenma glaring slightly at you
“Ugh why? Why did you agree with it? Now I have to practice with him” Kenma comes closer to put his head in the crock of your neck
“Do you want to go to the Spring Interhigh and play against Shoyo or not? It’s good to try it out” you say playing with his hair, hearing him grunt as an answer “I know you can do it, you´re amazing, and I’ll be here for whatever you need”
“Thanks” he whispers
“Kenma-san! Let’s practice together!” Lev comes closer, making Kenma grunt again
“Yeah, you should practice together. Right Ken?”
“…Fine” says going back to practice with an annoyed face
“Chibi-chan” calls you Kuroo before heading back “You normally motivate Kenma by just being here, but I’m pretty sure you are the only one who can motivate him now”
“I know, go ahead”
During practice, Kenma takes note of Lev’s jumping point, height, and the size of his backswing, but despite being given a perfect toss, Lev keeps missing them. The practice reaches an end, so the guys go to take a shower and change. After that all of you go to the convenience store to buy some lunch, you walk next to Kenma and Lev to give them small feedback.
“Lev, you two need to sync up, you can’t go changing the way you play out of nowhere”
“I hate this” Kenma puts his head on your shoulder once again
“I’ll put all my effort into it, I promise Kenma-san, I have to be Nekoma’s Ace”
“Yeah, whatever. Let’s go Yn” he says taking you by the wrist and walking away from the team
“Ken, I’m going to Saitama to see the finals, not home”
“I know, I’m going with you, let’s go”
“But the others…”
You are on the train on the way to Saitama, just Kenma and you; and even though the rest of the team knew that you invited them, they rather give you time alone. He is playing something on his PSP while you lay on his shoulder with your eyes closed.
“Why are you so grumpy with Lev?”
“I just think he’s annoying…plus we barely have talked since he joined”
“Why don’t you think of Lev as a boss level? It would be boring if it was too easy, wouldn’t it?”
“Well…yeah”
“I’ll do my best to keep Lev in check, the twins were a good practice for that, but promise me to put effort on this” you say looking at him now,
“Fine, I promise…just because you ask me though”
“Thanks” you whisper before moving just enough to give him a kiss on the cheek.
You arrived at the gym with just enough time for you to talk to them, letting them know all you knew about Sakusa spins and Itachiyama's defense. You go to sit to watch the match, you feel unnaturally nervous. The first set goes to Inarizaki, however the rest of the sets went to Itachiyama, marking them as the winners of this Interhigh. Despite knowing that it could happen, your eyes still get a little bit watery knowing that the boys are probably dissatisfied and disappointed.
“Are you okay?” asks Kenma by your side with worried eyes
“Yeah, it’s just sad seeing them being so close to win” he nods understanding
After the ceremony, you immediately go out to find them with Kenma right behind you, which lead into him staying behind once you spot them and went to them
“Chibi-chan” says Atsumu with a little pout, while Osamu and Suna look disappointed “We didn't won, sorry”
“Why are you saying sorry? You did your best, didn't you?”
“Of course”
“Then that's enough, I'm still super proud of all of you. Come here idiots, I love you” you open your arms, making them come immediately for a big hug
“Kita-san, Aran-san, Omimi-san, am I seeing you for the Spring Interhigh?” you ask going to them to also give them a hug
“Of course you are” Aran answers
“We’re not leaving just yet” says Kita. After you say bye to the rest of the team, you went back to the twins and Suna
“We will see each other again on the training camp, it’s not that far away” you say laying on Osamus’s chest
“At least that's something good, we can actually spend time together without a whole tournament in between” Osamu hugs you tightly before letting you go
“Thank you for coming chibi-chan” Suna pulls you to give you a back hug while kissing the top of your head
“And cooking for us, I swear they were better than Samu’s” says Atsumu
“I get it, chibi-chan made them, but she literally used MY recipes”
“Samu accept it, I'm just better than you” you joke. You continue talking for a few minutes before you look at where Kenma is, who is in his phone passing time.
“I gotta go now, I dragged Kenma enough this weekend” you say
“See ya soon chibi-chan, I’ll miss ya” Atsumu hugs you tight, kissing your temple one more time
“See ya Chibi” Osamu hugs you tightly “yer gamer boy is looking over here, I better receive good news about ya two”
“Oh god, why did I tell you?”
“See ya chibi. Remember, follow yer heart” Osamu kisses your temple before walking away with Atsumu, leaving you alone with Suna
“Chibi-chan, I really missed walking you home” he says pulling you to his chest
“Yeah, it was fun, I missed being with my best friends” you unintentionally put emphasis on the best friend part, making him tense up for a second
“Yeah, I can't wait for the training camp, it will be fun to be with you again”
“It’s going to be fun, I miss you. I need to go now” before you could fully get away he grabs your face and leans to put his forehead against yours, eyes moving to your lips
“If you don’t leave now, I’ll drag you with me back to Inarizaki and make sure to not let you leave” he jokes, but you could see a small sadness in his eyes when they shift behind you
“I miss you a lot, and while you’ll always be my favorite friends, I can’t leave them either, I’ll miss them too”
“I know, I can tell that you found amazing people that you love. I…I love you” he kisses your forehead before leaving. You sigh before turning around and going to where Kenma is sitting, you sit beside him to wait for him to finish whatever he’s doing, but he closes the game immediately to look at you
“Can we go home now?” he asks playing with your hand, making you smile
“Yeah, we can”
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Same anon on Travis Kelce ask. I think what most haylors fail to accept is that Harry has been saying no to Taylor since 2020. The Daylight mv is a good proof. It's about & for Taylor but Harry saying, "If I was a bluebird..." But he is not. He's been yelling at her, so to speak on that megaphone, but she just won't listen. And haylors aren't listening too. I think it's best to help Taylor out as you just did on your answer but not push the Haylor narrative anymore. I just think that's more helpful to blondie.
Should I feel conflicted about calling you “Travis Kelce ask” anon, lol? Thank you for replying.
I don’t agree with the view that “Harry has been saying no to Taylor since 2020”. No about what? I don’t think he would ever be willing to again be part of a banquet of boys with whom she hooks up (no more JALBOYL or Fool’s Gold stuff). So yeah, much firmer boundaries. (If I am being honest, my guess is his unwillingness to do so might have set the stage for May’s MH three weeks of yuck.)
But what I am documenting is the ways they seem to still be communicating, sending messages to each other, whatever the messages might be since their meaning is not fully clear to us fans. I wouldn’t classify that as “pushing the Haylor narrative”. These things are actually happening. I am citing sources and using data, and I am saying it’s spec when it is.
And the Daylight MV is an example, but I disagree with your argument about the Bluebird. I think that reference ties to this poem by Harry’s beloved Bukowski, and it’s a heartbreaker.
The bluebird? Is the vulnerability and softness he feels he can only let out (at night) sometimes (so it doesn’t die) and if he could share it? It would be with *her*.
And look at this timeline I outlined:
He filmed a whole video packed with messages for her on May 10/11, 2022 after weeks (or even months) of planning.
Then SIX DAYS LATER he films a decoy video.
Then he sits on the other Haylor-coded one for nearly FIFTEEN MONTHS. He could have never released it; he has done that before. But he chose to, on July 19, 2023. Why would he do that?
And the Satellite MV. He could have let us wonder who the song was about. But after the May 3rd video release: no more doubt. Blondie. And it was entirely developed after she dropped Question…?
And I do not have firm answers. I am just archiving what is happening.
It’s the same thing with his set list changes. Why add Stockholm Syndrome?
Why drop LOML and add Fine Line?
And her! Why did she make the it so clear that Question…? was about him? Why did she have it on the album at all, holy sh*t. It’s not fair to ask that Blondie, especially since you already know the answers!
Why did she approach him and touch him in public at the Grammys, twice?
Why did she play Question…?, a song that “brings me a lot of happy memories” on May 20th?
These are just some of the very obvious ways they are sending messages. And I don’t have definitive answers. I am noting what I see.
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jeonqkooks ¡ 1 year ago
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I seriously don't get it. Like, you can be a fan of an actor or a director and it doesn't mean you automatically love every single movie they've ever been in or made. You can talk normally with other fans about what you loved and what you didn't. And *gasp* you might have different opinions because taste is subjective! And just because it's not your type of movie doesn't mean you won't give it a chance or not be excited about the next one.
Why is the attitude towards BTS so different? Hell, sometimes they don't even love the work they put out or change their minds on it as their tastes evolve. You can support and love JK and wish for his happiness and success without vibing with every single thing he does. And it's ok to talk to each other about it without it being classified as a personal attack on the artist. The whole point of art is to provoke thought and discussion!
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i think the reason why the attitude is different toward bts is bc kpop fandoms (and maybe this fandom especially) are toxic as hell 😭 the kpop fandom culture sucks and i think we can all agree on this. literally anything less than absolute worship is considered “hate” and (as you said) “a personal attack on the artist”, which i think is stupid as hell because ??? make it make sense. 😑
yeah i don’t know why it’s such a “controversial” thing to have an opinion that’s different than the majority of the fandom, an opinion that doesn’t include always screaming about how much you love bts and the thing they’re doing. i say bts but honestly i only ever see this kind of stuff happening with jk. 95% of the discourse i come across is jk discourse.
i am literally a jk stan. we all know that. if i love a thing he does, i’ll proudly say it. i can yell about how much i love Stay Alive all day long. you guys KNOW how much this blog used to revolve around jk. clearly i am not “out to get him” and i am not lurking in the shadows with my little rat hands waiting for him to release new content just so i can dunk on him. 😑
as a fan and a literal consumer of his music, i am allowed to have certain expectations. he doesn’t seem to be going down the direction that i would’ve liked, and that’s perfectly fine. you do you, boo 😗 if it’s not my taste, then it’s not my taste. but i’m still allowed to have my opinions on this and i’m still allowed to express them.
expressing my disappointment does not mean that i hate him or i don’t support him anymore. it’s as simple as that, but apparently even that is still a very hard pill for a lot of people to swallow. “but they see everything!” okay lol i can guarantee you (not you anon, just people in general) that bts are not creeping on my tumblr blog and taking notes of every single thing that i’m saying about them. even if they are, i can still guarantee you that they do not care lol. me not listening to a song/album literally will not affect their streams at all. it will not affect their revenue in any way. jk is still a multi millionaire whether or not i listen to or buy jjk1. he does not give a shit about me because he does not know i exist lol.
with that said, a big reason why i am PISSED is because of the fans. jk doesn’t care about me, do you think he’s crying in his room because i said i didn’t like a song? do you think that he - a 26-year-old grown ass adult and global superstar with 10 years of experience under his belt - cannot handle criticism? do you think he’s a baby in an adult man’s body or something that you feel like you personally have to defend him against any and all criticism? that you have a duty to make sure that he doesn’t hear anything less than positive that people have to say about him?
if your answer is yes, then, well, idk what else to say to you lol.
but if your answer is no, and you still come after people for having different opinions, then lol sorry i think you’re weird 🤷‍♀️ why can i only speak my mind when it’s something along the lines of “OH MY GOD I LOVE IT SO MUCH. ALBUM OF THE CENTURY”? when i say something as simple as “i’m a little disappointed by this. this isn’t something i really vibe with,” i’m considered a hater, an anti, and told to shut the fuck up? why can i only say what i really think when it aligns with what the majority of the fandom is thinking?
i am not attacking jk by not being into his music. i am not attacking jk stans by having a different opinion than they do. i am literally just being honest about what i think, my opinions which only affect me. what is so hard to understand about that lol
another point that i would like to touch on is when people say things like “but why can’t you let people enjoy it?” erhm. i’m not going into people’s inboxes and screaming in people’s faces “I DON’T LIKE IT, SO WHY DO YOU? YOU SHOULDN’T LIKE IT EITHER!” 😑 if my not liking the music ruins your fun, if it genuinely hurts and upsets you, then maybe you should take a step back from all of this and reevaluate. if you are hurt by an online stranger having a different opinion than you about something as simple as MUSIC (which is subjective to everyone’s personal taste) made by someone you will never know, then i don’t think the internet is for you, honestly.
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unknownjpegs ¡ 10 months ago
Text
trust
“You ever think you might’ve gone a little wonky, somewhere down the line?” Benji teases, one eyebrow raised as he considers the belt held loosely in Xavier’s fist. His belt, just some old thing he’d had since SAS training. His brain had blanked a little when Xavier teased him for the way it’d been tossed into Benji’s closet haphazardly, made a joke.
Necklace, Xavier had said with a snort, pointing at it, and that’s all he had said. Just a silly, filthy passing comment in that way of his. And yet Benji…had physically paused. Fuck if the image hadn’t lodged immediately in his brain and stayed there. Happened a lot, with Xavier. Little jokes or flighty what-ifs that took hold with a vengeance, stuck his thoughts up in the process. He probably did it on purpose, waited until Benji was occupied doing something normal, or haf to focus, to let it rip. Or...worse, Xavier had no idea what he was capable of — what he was doing.
And Benji’d just been doing laundry (trying to be better about it, for the sake of his new, clean-freak roommate). Paused there, necklace, with an oversized sweater half-folded in his hands. It could no longer be classified as solely his or Xavier's, they shared so much now.
Xavier in his lap now, dragged there by greedy fingers, as a comfortable weight pressing his hips into the bed. There's a nice breeze coming in from the open window, all his pale skin lit up in the late-afternoon sunlight. Makes him look…fuck if it isn’t difficult to look at him for too long, even now. Even now he’s got all that time to just look. It's peaceful. He never would have called his life that, a few years ago. Peaceful.
“Like,” Benji says, running his hands over pale thighs because he’s allowed to, he's able. He watches as shivers and goosebumps chase after the path of his fingers, the little reflexive shake and flex of muscle. He looks, looks, looks just because he can. But honestly — he could look forever. “Like, yeah, ‘maybe I’ve got some wires crossed’? Saying shit like that.”
“Oh, absolutely,” Xavier responds cheerily, rocking in Benji’s lap very deliberately as he hands the belt over. Eager, grinning. A little devilish about it, so pointed and bright with excitement that Benji’s got goosebumps now, too. “All the time. Nothing but crossed wires.”
Benji takes the belt, testing the weight, heat crawling up his cheeks. Like he knows it’s there, Xavier chases it with his newly empty hands. Pets him on the jaw, the cheek. Then the touch slides south to run up and down his sides, squeeze his ribs and rest there. Xavier makes him feel as though no part of him is unwanted for exploration, and that's such a big revelation even this far into it that he blushes. Those hands keep moving, fingers tapping a count between his ribs.
“And about these, uh, urges?” Benji asks, tips his head to the side, allowing Xavier the room to fit his nose where he prefers. He skates his free hand up the curve of Xavier’s spine, sharply crescented to fit the awkward height difference.
“What about ‘em?” Muffled, breath hot on his neck followed by the sting of teeth.
“Maybe you should talk to — oh — to somebody about it?” Benji laughs, gasping when he’s bitten again.
“Talk to you, don’t I?” Xavier rumbles back, rubs his face at the soft pulse point. “You gonna use it, or what?”
“Or fucking what,” Benji grumbles, and drapes it over the back of his pale neck. Xavier goes absolutely still, breath caught in his throat. He’s never done this kind of thing, but he knows a little. Has a fucking brain, for the most part, even though it is getting so scrambled right now. Thought and higher function drain out his ears, the longer he looks at the strip of leather around a freckled throat. 
“Fuck, Xavier,” he says, and it’s maybe in his top ten phrases at this point. The thought makes him smile. Its edges go slippery-slack with desire as the belt tightens, but only just, leaving enough room for two fingers if he needs to get ‘em under. It still digs a divoted edge into flesh hard enough that it starts to redden. Benji’s mouth goes dry. 
 It matches the color high on Xavier’s cheeks, the crawl of it down his chest —Benji drops his gaze lower. Quirks his eyebrows, amused. 
“We haven’t even done anything yet,” he teases breathily, pressing his thumb to the tip of Xavier’s cock, which is turning that same flush that makes him mad. He gives it one good stroke, and then jerks his eyes up to watch. Because whenever he does that, slow-like, it earns — yeah, there it is. Xavier’s whole body, not just his hips, rolls like a wave. Chasing the feeling. Receptive. His head’s tossed back, throat bared and…and damn, Benji’s belt around it, fuck.
Fuck.
He blinks rapidly, slotting that mental image away for later. Gotta focus. Gotta make it even better.
“What was that? Can’t hear you, dude,” Xavier croaks. Not because the belt is too tight, but because he’s — fuck, he’s just that into it, isn’t he? Benji shivers hard. “Too busy thinking about how hard I’m about to fuckin’ blow.” 
“Gross,” Benji snickers, as if that doesn’t make him twitch. He tightens it slowly, watching and listening, incredibly careful about doing so. And then he gets a hand around them both. Pauses, even though Xavier’s whining something awful, high and breath move, move, please. The trust of it all rams into him then, square to the fucking gut like a punch, and everything narrows into bodies, into noises, into feeling. 
Not too long later, he’s trying hard to catch his breath.
Not just Xavier, because yeah, obviously, but Benji too. Because — fuck, he feels like the one who’s been cut off from oxygen, the way that had gone. They’re all sticky and if Xavier stays where he is, chest-to-chest with him, they’re gonna end fucking glued together by the mess.
Benji taps him on the hip. 
“No. Moving.” Xavier slurs, his face buried in the pillow by Benji’s head. “M’not moving. Set an alarm… for a hundred years. Two. Two hundred.”
He thinks about how hard Xavier’s eyes had rolled, the red crawling up his face and his chest heaving, and tries not to let the smirk get too fucking smug.
“Wires uncrossed themselves?” He hedges, skating his hands up Xavier’s naked back once again. 
“No,” and the body above him shakes with half-hearted, exhausted laughter. “No, man. Just made that one so much worse.”
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alesuggestprompts ¡ 2 years ago
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Retelling of overused historical periods (part 1)
There are some historical periods that are so much used in stories to become boring, like, there's no more something interesting about them, right?
Wrong
Lucky (or unfortunately, depends on the point of view) stories tend to focus only on some aspects of history, leaving out all the rest.
But "the rest" is so fascinating!
Here are some prompts on how you can make overused historical times interesting again.
Ancient Rome
Especially last years of Republican period and first century of Imperial period
Tell the stories of women. This is going to be a recurrent advice but here I mean it with all my heart: talk about women, properly. Roman women between I century bc and II century ad had to face a lot and did it with great force and pride: they fought to be educated (and some of them started to work in law), some of them became writers (often uncredited, like Sulpicia), they had to face a law that punished sexual behavior outside of marriage (even for unmarried girls) and fought against them united, they obtained divorce (and divorced women started to be common after I century bc) and in imperial periods they obtained more civil rights. Some historians say that what they did was a feminist movement ante litteram. If you want a nice reality based prompt: when Augustus imposed a law stating that every woman (married and unmarried) that had sex with a person that wasn't her husband would be punished- apart from prostitutes, lots aristocrat women decided to go all together to sing up as prostitutes (even if they weren't) as a protest. They won.
Greek slaves. Romans had different levels of slavery and usually slaves from Greece were classified familia urbana: they had to work in the family of their owner/patron but had greater respect than other kind of slaves. They had to manage the family patrimony, educate the young members of the family (greek culture was fashionable) and help their patron at work. Usually after years of work they became libertus: freed people.
People who decided to put otium (making of art, literature, poetry and philosophy) before negotium (working in law or in commerce). It wasn't a lot encouraged and young people who did so were the "wasted youth" or the unproductive. Culture was seen as good only if it had a second mean like propaganda. Art for art's sake wasn't acceptable, and lots of young people fought for that. If you want a reality based prompt: Catullus and neoteros.
Bisexuality. Lots of historical fictions forget how much bisexuality was common in ancient rome. It wasn't seen as completely good (there were a lot of prejudices) but many of important figures were bisexuals (I'm looking at you, Cesar). Take this as an invite to make queer representation.
Victorian London
Talk about women (this is going to be a leitmotiv) in a different way. On one hand we have the Victorian idea of women (very oppressive) and on the other we have the rise of feminism with its different ramifications. Highlight this opposition and talk about women who had the courage to stand out.
Poor people and working class. Usually Victorian based fiction is about aristocrats or rich borgueis class but poor people had a more interesting story: the protests, police brutality, the rising of socialism, strikes, the first trade unions and the fight to make them legal, chartism and other attempts to be important in politics.
Queer people. Homosexuality (and other queer identities) was forbidden and punished with prison. Still, queer culture in the Victorian England is huge. This aspect can't go forgotten in history and fiction.
Immigrants. According to Wikipedia
there were about 2 339 000 immigrants in Victorian Britain, mostly from Ireland, Belgium, Germany and lots of them were Jews, but there were lots of immigrants from South Asia, China, the African continent and West India too. Telling their stories would be original and much needed.
The Golden Age of Piracy
You know what I'm going to suggest, right? Women! Yeah you saw it coming. Women pirates were a thing and we need to talk about them more often. Lots of them used male names and identities in order to be safe and revealed themselves only later (and often when killing their enemies as a way to state "you've been defeated by a woman, you sexist idiot") . Sometimes they were desperate and looking for a way of surviving that wasn't prostitution but I really hope that their story won't be only filled with trauma and suffering: they were badass, powerful and free. Celebrate them. Anyway, some of them could have been transmen and transmasc people and it's really important to not put a cisheteronormative gaze on them. Queer and trans pirates were a thing as well as women pirates.
Matelogate and queerness in pirates. Matelogate was similar to modern civil unions and stipulated between men: they promised to share everything and had legal (in the law pirates recognized) protection as a couple, and benefits too. Matelogate wasn't exclusively an agreement between lovers but it has been reported that almost all pirates who decided to matelogate had a romantic and/or sexual bond with the people they decided to commit to. I'm saying people because apparently (I still have to do deep researches about it) polyamorous pirates were a thing too.
Black pirates. Seriously, lots of people think that pirates were only white but actually there were plenty of nonwhite pirates and especially black pirates. Usually they chose piracy as a way to escape slavery but as I said with women pirates before: even of history is filled with pain, try to not focus only on trauma and portrait your characters in a non triggering way. Empower them as a way of giving them the justice history denied.
As you can see in this first part of my "retelling history posts" acknowledging parts of history that have been erased in mainstream storytellings is a powerful tool for creativity but it's especially a way of protecting part of history from the process of erasing who didn't have privileges.
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americasmarauders ¡ 4 years ago
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American Pie--Jason Todd.
author’s note: this has been on my drafts for an eternity. I finished this out of pure self-pressure and shame instileld by a tag game @batarella tagged me. I literally finished this in the treadmill, which I found is my favorite place to write.I wanna thank @batarella and @offendedfishnoises for being real troopers and encouraging me and proofreading this. 
words: 2284
Beware: curse words (cause i’m a potty mouth), Jason being a shy pinning boy. I reccomend you listen to (or at least look at the lyrics for) American Pie by Don McLean and OUr Song by Taylor Swift.
Silence.
         Excruciating silence. That was what Jason remembered from death.
         He remembered thinking ‘This will be the day that I die,’ before the world turning black and silence overtook his entire being killing what was left of his soul.
         After that it is all he remembered: silence.
        He used to think music was everything. When he was bored, he used to bolt out to the most random songs in his room at the Wayne Manor, to the point of an angry Bruce storming to his room and quietly turning down the volume.
        It took him a while to look fondly at those memories, and he still wasn’t sure if he did look at them like that. He was at the point of just thinking of them as just that: memories so far away from who he was, he considered them to belong to a different person entirely.
        Music just didn’t hold the same wonder and joy as it did. Jason didn’t belt out whatever song he wanted anymore, he just idly stood by as any song came on whatever radio he was listening while he waited on his patrols.
        It was like the music died with him.
        He sipped his drink as a light jazzy tune sounded in the background of his mind. He didn’t pay any attention to it, rather he was engrossed in his own sorrow to listen to any of the diner’s songs.
        He hummed in indifference, looking up from his cup and looking around. It was the middle of the afternoon, and the diner was mostly empty. There was a girl in the back, messing with the jukebox. Jason took a good look at her.
        She was wearing a plaid skirt, with a bright orange cropped blouse. She wore her hair loose. She looked too engrossed in her song choice to realize anyone looking at her. He glanced at the table next to her: filled with books and old cups he assumed were once filled with coffee.
        He heard an angry curse and saw her shaking aggressively the jukebox. “You, know,” he spoke up, “I’m not an expert on jukeboxes or anythin’ but I’m pretty sure that’s not how they work.”
        She looked at him bewildered. She narrowed her eyes at him, almost as if she were trying to dissect him in a split second. “This machine swallowed my quarter and will not let me select a song.”
        He abandoned his cup and got up, heading towards the weird lady. “Let me see if I can help.”
        She stepped aside and left room for him to see what happened. “By all means.”
        He quickly analyzed it. He glanced at the woman next to him, her arms crossed over her chest, meticulously analyzing what Jason was doing. He hit the spot next to the coin slot and heard the coin going down the mechanism. He got up and said: “There. All fixed.”
        “I can’t believe it!” she exclaimed. “I’ve been trying forever to get this thing to work and you come here and just make it work in seconds.” She turned to the jukebox and muttered, “Don’t you love me anymore, you silly machine?”
        Jason laughed. “I’m Jason,” he said, extending his hand.
        She took it and shook it. “I’m Y/N.”
        “Well,” Jason stated awkwardly, “I’ll leave you to it, then.”
        “No, wait!” she said. “Sit with me. I see you’re there all alone, and I need someone to listen to my thesis,” she explained. “You seem like a nice guy, you know? What do you say? I’ll buy you a milkshake,” she smiled.
        Jason pondered. It wasn’t like he had anything else to do. And maybe a little company would do him well. She seemed perfectly nice, albeit a little weird. Why not?
        “What are you working on?” he said, sitting opposite to where she was.
        She smiled and went on and on about her research. To be completely honest, Jason only understood about half of what she was saying, and every time he made a funny face she would pause and patiently explain it again until his face melted into something resembling understanding. She would smile at him, and his heart hiccupped every time she did.
        She bought him a drink, and they stayed at the diner for a while. Jason discovered she wasn't from Gotham--not that it was hard to see, she had invited a complete stranger to sit with her in a shady diner in one of the worst neighborhoods of the city. She was a student, getting her master's in something too complicated to explain in the hours they spent together. Her eyes sparkled with excitement as she talked about her research. Jason liked that.
        He offered to walk her home. She refused. He smiled and gave her a knowing look. "Listen, I'm sure you know Gotham ain't a safe city,” he said. "Imagine it at night," he should know. He was a witness and victim of the horrors of Gotham.
        She budged. He carried her books for her. She seemed grateful. She tried the whole afternoon to get him to talk about himself. Jason didn't want to scare her off, so he gave her the bare minimum. Do you have a degree? No, but I'd like to. What do you do? I'm a freelancer. Do you have any siblings? No.
        Looking back at the moment she stood in front of her building, lit by streetlights, eyes twinkling with something Jason wouldn't recognize until much later, he knew he should have kissed her. He shouldn't have held her at arm’s length for so long. Alas, he had. He didn't kiss her. She says he was a perfect gentleman. He knows that. It doesn't mean he doesn't have regrets.
        She gave him her phone number. "I liked talking to you. If you're ever around the diner again, call me. I'll save all the good stuff for you," she winked. He laughed. He saved her phone number as if it was the most precious thing in the world. It kinda was.
 #
#
He texted her. He went to the diner, intentionally. He had to see her.
        No, he didn't. He didn't have to see her. If he didn't, it would have been another 'what if' of his life. He would survive, and maybe regret that he had chosen what he had chosen. The difference was he wanted to see her. And he hadn't done something he wanted in a very long time.
        He was the first to arrive. He sat by the window, looking at the city. The sun was setting, there was an orange glow illuminating the diner. He awkwardly fiddled with his straw, stirring the milkshake (strawberry as always, he wasn't an animal like Tim) calmly. He heard the bell ringing.
        She walked in and Jason swore she was an angel. The light hugged her, and he thought she was there to save him. Save him from himself, from the nightmares, from his job, from his trauma. She smiled at him and he was goner. Second time seeing her and he was gone. He fell for her.
        She was wearing glasses, her hair tied, sweatpants and a Gotham University t-shirt. Her bag hung from her shoulder, her hand wrapped tightly around the strap.  She wasn’t nowhere near as dressed up as last time he saw her. It didn't matter. She was beautiful either way. She fixed her glasses as she sat in front of him.
        She ordered some tea, and Jason thought who orders tea in a diner. She did. Y/N was extraordinary that way.  She said she had thought about him. He somehow believed her. He smiled back at her and sipped his milkshake.
        “I brought you something,” she said. She dug through her purse and took out a book.  She slid it to him over the table. His hands unfurled from his cup and grabbed it. His eyes skimmed over the hardcover. Shakespeare’s Sonnets. A rare edition at that. “I think you might've read it already,” she shrugged. “You mentioned you liked Shakespeare. I was walking through a book shop near the University and I saw this edition and I thought of you.”
        Jason flipped through the book, the smell of dust filing his senses. That was the smell of a good book. A book that had seen many lives. He loved it. He looked at her, her eyes expecting a reaction of him. He offered her a shy smile. She took it and her smile was so bright it almost blinded him. “Thank you. I—I— It’s very thoughtful of you.”
        “You’re welcome, Jason,” she replied. “I thought you would like it.”
        “Yeah,” he breathed out. He held back once again. He wanted to tell her that he loved it.  That it was probably one of the best gifts he had ever received. “I liked it.”
        She reclined on the seat and smirked. “It’s quiet here, isn’t it?” she said.  Jason looked at her quizzically, his hands resting on the book. He saw her get up from her seat, a coin on her hand. She put the quarter on the jukebox and selected a song. She seemed proud of herself as Jason watched her with nothing but wonder. She sat in front of him again, as a piano played on the background and a voice of a man sounded through the tune.
        “I love this song,” she stated. “Don’t you?”
        Jason shrugged. “I don’t know it.”
        She was shocked. “You don’t? That’s a first. Someone that doesn’t know ‘American Pie’.”
        “Isn’t that a movie?” he asked. With the limited popular culture knowledge he had, he still knew some things.
        “Yes it is, but it was a song before that. By Don McLean. 1971,” she hummed with the tune. “It’s like poetry.”
        He gave her a funny face. “I hardly think it’s like poetry.”
        She gasped, pretending to be offended. “Betrayal,” she whispered, but soon after she smiled. “It’s because you’re not appreciating it enough,” she answered. She grabbed another quarter of her purse and got up. She pointed to him as she walked to the jukebox. “Listen to it and pay attention.”
        “Fine,” Jason huffed. He didn’t want to tell her that his appreciation for music had died with him. Not yet.
        He listened to it. Really did. Truthfully, he hadn’t understood a single word of what he meant, but Y/N seemed happy that at least he had somewhat liked the song. It was catchy. But he would hardly classify it as poetry. 
        "I'll convince you. Music is everything," she said. 
        So it began her quest to culture Jason, as she called it. He found it endearing to say the least. His judgement was seriously clouded. 
        She would send recommendations to him, writing extensively how these songs were everything to her. Because of that Jason would pay extra attention to it. 
        It felt strangely personal to listen to them with them in mind. It was like listening to a part of her soul. It might as well be that. She was entrusting him with a part of her, and he wasn't exactly worthy of that. 
        He felt dangerously unprotected around her. Jason was constantly toying with the line between keeping up his eccentric bad boy façade and opening his heart to her. Who was he kidding? He already had opened his heart to her. He just hadn't told her yet. He didn't know if he was going to. 
        Reading the sonnets suddenly felt extremely personal too. It wasn't about appreciating art anymore. He was living the love poems. He was feeling everything Shakespeare was describing. Desperation rose in him the first time he realized that. 
        How was he supposed to continue with his job--oh God, his job--when there was someone out there that cared if he was dead or alive? How was he going to blackmail a drug lord when he himself could be blackmailed? What was he going to say to Bruce? What was he supposed to do?
        A soft pop song played on the radio. They were going through pop songs now. Y/N had said it was imperative that he'd listen to Taylor Swift. And Jason could admit she had a point. 
        As he drove through the quiet highway, his hand itched to hold hers. They were driving to Metropolis. She had said there was an exhibit that they couldn't miss. A science exhibit. Jason didn't care for science, but she did, and seeing her with that glint in her eyes was the best part of his day. 
        Fuck it, he thought. His hand left the shift and encapsulated hers. He could feel her gaze on him, he knew she was smiling. His heart almost jumped out of his chest. Thank God, he was alive. 
        She turned down the volume of the song. His eyes shifted to hers for a second, her expression neutral. "What's wrong?" He said, his voice bordering desperation. 
        "We don't have a song," she said, quietly. "We don't have a song," she repeated. 
        Jason's worry dissipated into thin air, and he opened a smile. "Of course we do."
        "How? I don't remember ever--" she trailed off, looking confused at him. His eyes once again went to her, his smile soft. 
        "How about laughs, the soft sound of cars outside? The jazzy tune you always play on the fucking jukebox," he heard her laugh, his hands squeezed hers. "Reciting poems, you rambling about whatever you discovered? Huh?" he hummed. "That's our song."
        She smiled at him one again. And that was when he knew what he was supposed to do. 
        He was supposed to live. And he was going to live with her by his side. 
author’s note: here is the link to my masterlist and  the link to my jason playlist
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shadowmaat ¡ 3 years ago
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Reading Dead Silence by SA Barnes. It's described as "Titanic meets the Shining" and yeah, I can see why they went for that description, though it really undersells it.
It's good so far. Haven't gotten to the creepy horror parts yet, but I know some of the specifics to expect since we're given hints. It starts off in the "present day" with the sole survivor trying to explain what happened and then flashing back to "then" and the two blend really well. It fits together a lot better than, say, a certain Book about a certain ex bounty hunter whose story got thrown in a blender and then half was discarded with content from another series. Not that I'm bitter or anything. ;)
If you like creepy "something is definitely wrong" stories and love to see it in a fresh setting, this book is for you.
Like I said, still reading, but it's good.
EDIT: OK, it occurs to me that finding hundreds of dead floating bodies showing obvious signs of extreme violence might be classified as "creepy horror." My metrics are a bit off. I also forgot that Cube had horror in it.
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ace--writes ¡ 5 years ago
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To Reach a Journey’s End - 2 (of a Soulmate AU)
Authors’ Note: Hello all! This is a collaboration with the incredible, the imaginative, quite obviously the backbone of this fic, @emo-does-things!! Here is the second instalment (aka chapter) of the story we are weaving!!
Again, we don’t know how America works for the most part, so if we make a  mistake please let us know!
Fandom: Sanders Sides
Relationships: Eventual LAMP
Warnings: Again, none come to mind. If there is something we need to add to the warning be sure to let us know!
Words: 2590
Links: Tumblr Chapter 1         Ao3 Chapter 1         Ao3 Chapter 2
~~~~~
Lunch was a glorious respite from the classes of the day. The break itself still didn’t quite leave Virgil’s sliding scale between ok and awful, but Patton would be there, so that levelled it up to being classified as good. 
The day’s rating, outside of Patton, was slowly seeming to morph from ‘ok’ to ‘just barely tolerable’, ‘awful’ to ‘the actual end of his small world’. 
After English, he had a feeling it was only going to get worse. 
At least he managed to escape English without having to talk to that Roman guy again, and with the minimal amount of death glares he could hope to receive. He’d fled the room first, knowing that Patton would assume he’d just booked it to their spot after all that. 
He grabbed his lunch and all but ran to their place under the most secluded tree, where he and Patton had been sitting together since Patton had befriended him three years ago.
He slumped back between the roots and against the trunk, pulling his knees up and burying his head in his arms.
He takes a moment to breathe and try to remember all the different methods he’s learnt to calm down.
None of these tactics seems as effective as when he hears footsteps he recognises instantly.
“Awe, what’s got you all gloomy kiddo?” Patton asks as he settles down next to him. 
Somehow it’s that overly chipper, rather redundant question, that manages to reduce his anxiety. It does not, however, stop his sardonic reply.
“I dunno Pat, maybe the fact that I got into a huge debate with the new kid in English on the first day back, and now everyone that likes him has it out for me because we just ended up insulting each other,” he muttered sarcastically into his folded arms. 
“I’m sure it won’t be that bad Virge! I mean, sure you guys argued, but it’s just like Mr Terrance’s normal debates, don’t you think? And hey, the day’s only half over! Plenty of time for things to go better if you’re still worried,” Patton said, and Virgil could exactly picture the expression he would be wearing without having to look up. 
He’d be smiling, fond and sappy and encouraging, but there would be that faint crease of worry between his brows that he would always get whenever Virgil was upset or anxious.
Virgil glanced up, resting his chin on his arms instead of his whole face, and blew the bangs from his face. He was exactly right about the expression on Patton’s face, but honestly, visualising it still didn’t do him justice. His imagination would never be able to quite replicate the sparkle in his green eyes or the cute dimple in his smile or the sheer amount of emotion he could show on his face with such little movement and- wait no stop. Now was not the time to wax poetic about how cute his best friend looked. 
He could not let himself stray too far into that territory. Patton probably had a wonderful soulmate out there waiting for him, with a beautiful face and a shining personality to match his, and most importantly someone who was not a mess, like Virgil. 
“So,” Patton began, leaning back into the roots to relax, “What do you think we’ll be doing this year? For Drama Club.”
Virgil took a moment to think, while he pulled out one of his sandwiches.
“Probably one of the really old ones. We did Be More Chill last year, so Mrs Dollary will probably want us to do something ‘classic’. I hope it’s Shakespeare,” he said, smiling slightly at the prospect. 
“Oh, I hope so!” Patton gasped happily, “The costumes are so fun for our Shakespeare productions!”
Virgil grinned, “Yeah, the sets are so much more interesting too.”
It was easy to let the rest of the day's worries drift away then, sitting with Patton, chatting about something they were both passionate about. They ate lunch, they smiled and laughed, and he appreciated the moment away from the rest of his classes. 
It was a brief respite from the rest of the day that would be broken next by a class that Virgil usually included at the bearable end of the spectrum. Science itself, as a subject was interesting enough, and the various methods and measures were at least consistent.
The problem this time would be that he had no idea what his new teacher was like. She was apparently new this year.
So, Virgil made his way to Science with Patton, hoping to god that this would not add another subject to his ‘awful’ list. 
They were some of the first to arrive, with only two other students being in the room, both standing up the front next to her desk. They were still holding all of their belongings.
The woman that stood behind the desk, seemed to be their teacher, as she looked through the roll and glanced up at them occasionally. She had striking green glasses and a short black bob and a posture that seemed to scream seriousness.
“Name?” She asked as soon as he stepped through the door.
“Virgil Picani,” he answered as soon as he unfroze from the shock.
Patton grinned, “Patton Morgen, hello! How are you?”
She nodded, ignoring the greeting, “As I was saying to the others, I’m going to be assigning seats when the rest of the class arrives. For the moment, you can wait.”
Virgil knew very deep down and very sincerely, that nothing good would come from this. 
As the class trickled in Virgil only grew more anxious. He began to crack his knuckles in an attempt to ease the tension, but that was quickly stopped by a gentle nudge for Patton. He began to tap his foot next, along with biting his nails as he began to get pushed further and further into the blackboard. 
Eventually, the teacher stepped from behind her desk to address the whole class, “Hello seniors. I am Miss Hamasaki, and I will be your Science teacher for the foreseeable future. As you are likely aware, I will be assigning seats, based on who arrived first, first impressions, and what I decide appropriate. There will be no switching of seats unless I instruct you to do so, understood? All right then, Logan Croft please take this seat.”
A boy far more sharp and put together than any highschooler had the right to be, especially as a senior, stepped forward. He was tall, lanky, and wearing a tie despite their school’s lack of uniform. He had rectangular glasses, and a folder, which led Virgil to a thrilling conclusion.
Nerd. 
“Melissa Trainer,” Miss Hamasaki called, to reveal a shy, short girl who rushed to her allocated seat. 
“Patton Morgen.”
Patton nudged Virgil in a friendly manner as he passed, clearly trying to bestow some level of comfort. He was allocated a seat in the middle, two rows behind the Logan kid. 
“Virgil Picani.”
Please be next to Patton, please be next to Patton, he chanted. As the teacher looked up, clearly about to seat him behind Patton, she stopped. Her eyes narrowed in a calculating manner and Virgil did not like it.
“Hm… Yes, a nerd and a troublemaker,” she muttered to herself, but Virgil heard, “You’ll sit there, Mr Picani. I want you up the front.”
He shuffles forward, scowling a little, but slumps into his seat nonetheless. 
“Salutations,” said the boy he was seated next to now. 
“Hi,” he muttered back.
Oh. In that moment, several memories jumped back at him, and Virgil recognised his new desk partner. Yeah, he’d just heard his name, Logan Croft, but he remembered sitting with him in other classes, forced together by some group project or another. 
Virgil also remembered that his previous assessment was bang on, Logan was, in fact, a nerd, but one of the better ones. He did the work he was supposed to in a project and didn’t pretend that anyone else was lesser if they didn’t understand, he would be happy to explain anything he could, but still tended to use big words all the time. He also seemed quiet, most of the time. 
There could definitely be worse partners, he thought, and was promptly proven correct when the last person in class standing, waiting to be seated, was the new kid, Roman, from earlier. 
“And Mr Miller, with Mr Morgen please,” Miss Hamasaki, pointing towards Patton. 
Fuck. He thought. Shit, Patton was going to make friends with him, and Virgil was never going to be allowed to complain about him again. Fuck, what if Patton started talking to him and he decided he liked him better. He was after all, very much like Patton, seeming loud and excitable. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!
No. Stop that. You’re doing that thing that your therapist told you about. What was it called again? Cognitive distortions or something… Anyway, stop, it will be fine. It will be fine. His thoughts argued, but slowly he pulled himself away and tried desperately to focus on anything but the excited conversation between Patton and Roman just two seats back. 
“Now I know that many of you will be disconcerted by the separation with your friends. However, from this experience, I am sure that you will either make new friends, or do much better in my class than you usually would. You have five minutes to get to know your new partner, if you don’t already, starting now,” Miss Hamasaki said, returning to looking at papers behind her desk. 
Her attention didn’t wander so much that people got away with being overly loud, or behaving inappropriately, though, as Patton, Roman and several other people found out when she glared at them and shred them. 
“So…” said Virgil, awkward as ever.
“Indeed,” muttered Logan.
They both stared at each other for an uncomfortable amount of time. Virgil coughed awkwardly into his sleeve and stared at the floor.
He could hear Patton and Roman talking from where he sat, but he couldn’t make out what they were saying. He could just tell Patton’s (ever-familiar) and Roman’s (ever-annoying) voices apart from the rest of the crowd.
He found himself slowly twisting around so he could stare back at the two of them, clearly having a very animated conversation, happily getting to know each other. Virgil could practically feel the jealousy on his face. 
He could Practically hear Remy whispering in his ear, “Green is not your colour, honey! Besides, no ones taking our second son away from us.”
It was mostly the first half, but he added the second because he figured that he might as well be true to life, even in his thoughts.
“You don’t need to worry,” a rather monotone voice broke him from his thoughts. 
“What?” he blinked at Logan, probably a little bit stupidly and more than a bit dazed.
“You don’t need to worry. Anyone that’s seen you and Patton knows that you mean the world to each other. Both of you,” he said smoothly, although Virgil could almost tell that he was uncomfortable with the concept, “It is highly improbable that Patton would choose now to leave you, over a different assigned seat in class.”
“Improbable does not mean impossible,” he muttered petulantly, already conceding Logan’s point, and they both knew it. 
“That is true, they are not synonyms. However, ‘highly improbable’ and ‘very unlikely’ are, and thus my point stands.”
Virgil wasn’t sure whether to be very annoyed or very amused. Nine times out of ten he would choose the latter, but before he even realised it his face was falling into a grin. He took a moment to school his features, trying to at least appear somewhat serious- after all that’s what logan seemed to be doing.
“Yeah, well your ‘point’ isn’t made with full evidence,” he sighed, continuing the mock discussion for the sake of something to talk about.
“Well, then what am I unaware of that would change my conclusion?” he asked, actually seeming curious.
“Well, the fact that Roman- that's the new kid by the way-”
“-Yes I had heard his name being called”
“And I have a little thing going where I hate him and he almost definitely hates me.”
“Almost definitely does not mean certainly,” Logan said a slight smirk on his face.
“Didn’t we just have this conversation about schematics in the opposite direction?” Virgil asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I have no idea what you are talking about, Virgil,” Logan said, smirk fully formed on his face, the most emotion Virgil had ever remembered seeing him wear, across every project they’d ever done together.
Before he knew it, Virgil was actually laughing. He wasn’t sure what finally set him off- the absolute ridiculousness of his jealousy or Logan’s deadpan comment, but he guessed it must be a combination of the two. 
Logan, for his part, seemed both pleased with himself, and surprised at Virgil's reaction, again, more emotion than he had ever seen before. He didn’t seem half bad, although Virgil had no idea why it had taken until this conversation for him to realise it.
“Maybe this arranged seating won’t be the end of the world after all,” Virgil said slowly, grin still in place. 
“There is a slim to none chance that the end of the world would be brought about by Miss Hamasaki seating us together,” Logan said with a frown, and Virgil sighed.
“I meant, like, figuratively. You know, that we’d never get along, and that I'd have the worst time ever being forced to sit with you,” Virgil said.
“Oh,” said Logan, “well, I am glad that you do not think I am the worst possible person to be seated with.”
“Understatement much. I’d get into a fight with a quarter of the people in this class, and be too nervous to talk to the other three quarters, so you’re definitely up there.”
“But that adds to a whole, where would I- and for that matter Patton, as I’m sure you neither want to fight him or are afraid of him- fit into that?” Logan asked, once again seeming legitimately confused.
“I meant them as rough fractions, not perfect estimates. If there was a Venn diagram there would be one average size circle for ‘people i would fight’ and then a much bigger one with ‘people I am afraid of’  and then there is a third, very small circle, which is actually just labelled ‘Patton, Logan and that one girl I had to do a history project with last year’,” Virgil said, making the motions of drawing circles with his hands as he spoke.  
“Ah, well… That seems to be high regard, coming from you, Virgil. I am… Satisfied with your opinion of me,” Logan said slowly.
“Sure thing, L,” Virgil said, immediately panicking upon using the nickname but trying to play it off as he turned to the front as Miss Hamasaki called their attention. 
If Virgil had looked, and seen Logan’s reaction, he might not have been able to judge the emotion there, as Logan himself seemed to struggle to. 
If he had looked, he might have seen the strange quirk to his lips that wasn’t one that often appeared, considering Logan wasn’t often one for displaying- or feeling as he would say- happiness. 
But Virgil didn’t look, and he didn’t see the happy expression there, as Logan silently sat surprised at the prospect of maybe, just maybe, finding a friend.
Tag List: @deathshadowrules @i-have-n0-idea-what-im-d0ing 
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unproduciblesmackdown ¡ 6 years ago
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posts about things with absolutely no introduction but it's because i was reminded of the topic the other day
this one's for those of us in the lifelong isolation no friends society, i know sometimes there's other people out there!! anyways i've been thinking about how like, personally, obviously, b/c idk how other ppl do it b/c we aren't friends with each other lol, its just a fuckin wild thing to deal with in part cuz its one of those answers to which there's not necessarily any Right Way to handle things or Answer or Solution or anything. isolation p much = more isolation and plus not having friends makes ppl less likely to socialize with you so that's rough; anyways yknow, the point is just oops you can't Choose to like, obtain a friend. u can try to get ppl interested but you can't control it beyond that, so, yknow
anyways what am i getting to? yeah so i've never had close friends in that i was never able to share personally honest things anyways for the longest time for a couple reasons, and also, people just didn't like me. the double whammy of "oh no its abuse" and "oh no you're lowkey socially ostracized by your peers from preschool on without end" is like, good luck to little me getting friends! i had sort-of friends in like a couple ppl who'd hang out with me regularly and on occasion we'd go to each others houses or smthing but it wasnt able to be like, the normal fun event it should. oh well. middle school was a little better and a little worse but i didnt keep up w ppl cuz i went to a different school later and its that situation where you're friends-ish Because you're at the same school right...smh...didnt thrive in college magically, but one essential thing was i was away from home more often than not so, that was real important ultimately. but anyways in the end i had like a handful of college friends-ish (accepted by other friends groups lol) and theres a couple of them i still talk to now and again
so like, yknow, friends, mostly friendly acquaintances, my siblings i'd classify as friendly acquaintances, i'm very glad about all of them really. just unfortunately i've only just started to have friendships that are like a decade old and the "longtime close" friendship is nonexistent b/c college is just four years and then you go other places, and i'm not at the heart of friend groups and not "good" at communication in other ways so its hard to keep in touch in ways. smh!!
funnily enough i'm also not good at internet stuff though it's been absolutely essential, god knows. that's why i'm able to talk to anyone rn!! but i can't do group chats and i only like approaching things "one on one" aka i don't like feeling like im in the midst of a group even outside group chats. if you get what i'm saying. like even back being in the small early mh fandom of like, three dozen ppl, in retrospect i didnt like having to be in the entire Group yknow. lemme just be over here. which is what i do now.
anyways for additional reasonsl, communicating has been trickier these past few years and for the most part its been kind of a situation where i wasn't necessarily going to get to talk to someone every day, though usually it'd maybe only be like, a gap of a day or two. and anyways, the thing is that, over the past ten years especially its started to be Distressing like wanting friends, not as much having them, and also having it be more obvious that there was some kind of deficiency keeping me from having (and having had) friends like other people did. not fun! but what i'm getting around to here, whats been wild, is just this like, decade-ish (or two decade-ish if you want) Personal Effort to just figure out how the fuck to stop having to feel like shit about it all the time right? then you're lonely AND stressed and probably self loathing also
so like yeah, the thing is that the other day something was going on about like, yknow, the idea of the longtime close friend with a steadfast presence in your life, and that's just always like, lfjdglmao what!!! sounds nice. i had a friend for a week in second grade and im not sure we ever spoke and then the teacher made us sit on opposite sides of the classroom and it was too embarrassing to be friends anymore. that's kinda close but lol for real......it's not only the lack of friends to tackle but also like, i don't assume to have friends in the future. it's something that like, i would obviously theoretically want, and be happy if it happened, but i can't say i hope for it, because that implies too much being expectant or whatever. and it's weird!! its a weird time just kind of presuming friendlessness until otherwise occurs. and it's not great, i'm definitely still unhappy about all this shit. its just that i've also like, been able to shave off how distressing the issue mightve been in earlier years yknow
like it sounds all depressing to say like, i've just had to be less emotionally invested in the whole thing, but it's kind of true. not by ignoring it or ignoring the feelings so much as like...just acknowledging that this is how it is and there's only so much i can do but not hating myself about it is a start. and yeah it's like "oh, feeling less, depressing" but also frankly when i decided also that its less horrible to be friendless than to feel stuck w crap ppl / ppl who you aren't too important to / etc, i figured that i'd also rather be friendless and just enjoy being myself than try to make myself easier to talk to. i'm not like intimidating or anything, i just can't hold a conversation. but i'm not very interested anymore in trying to convince ppl to like me, yknow, i'm out here, and if i'm ever going to have friends i'd like them to be people to like me For Who I Am, wipe tear. what i'm just saying is "a weird dumbass" b/c its just vague social weirdness that ppl don't necessarily like, loathe, but probably they'd rather talk to someone else. i'm not great at socializing stuff, like i said, hence social rejection since age 4
oh and i meant to say!! i've been able to turn up my emotions by turning down my investment in the idea of Needing To Always Be Trying To Make Friends b/c, as anyone might know, all i like to do is talk at great length about whatever weird, niche shit i'm into at any given point. and that's pretty much it. i'm not pretending to be deep by not really knowing how to do small talk. lmao you guys know what i'm talking about. and obviously not everybody is into Getting Enthusiastic or super focused on whatever weird thing at any point, and i'm not Into getting my passion all fired up and being brushed off or anything, so we can all avoid each other, and i get to continue entertaining myself
so that's a way i've been able to turn my feelings up actually lol.....dunno how to segue into it so i won't but it's also just like, not saying that i Truly Don't Care about not having friends, or that it doesn't hurt that i've had this relative friendless past and the futures looking bleak, b/c it does!! it's still distressing. but like, its turned down. the whole general issue can be a very Bitter one for sure!!!! and it has been in the past sometimes and like.....it's still there basically, i've just been able to turn down the volume a lot on a bunch of these shit feelings like "that's upsetting" or "i'm bitter about that" and just kind of calmly let it simmer back down b/c i'm sort more familiarish with what sets it off and more familiar with Dealing With It Always overall
no idea if i've made the point i was setting out for there. dealing with the No Friends Isolation Life society life is not fun but we're out here, sometimes. it continues to be not fun. "oh well," is an often relevant sentiment. c'est la vie. c'est ce que c'est? i think. and i think it's nice that after years and years of just like, struggling to figure this shit out myself, and probably feeling like shit most of the time, i've at least managed to go "shh" at some Bad Feelings. definitely still there. but this time it doesn't heap extra shittiness on top b/c of having to deal with the intensity of it and feel bad about that too etc etc. it's all weird! getting more familiar with dealing with some shit which is just, the way that it is in part because of bad luck and of course i'm jealous of everybody who does have friends. but oh well. b/c c'est la vie. im also glad for everybody who has friends, obv. it's all complicated!! which is just part of why this post exists. it has no real point, i'm just kinda going like, weird, huh? and kind of good, and kind of a bummer. oh well
also im aware this is a suddenly long, technically depressing post at like circa midnight for a lot of people, but basically this is just me in normal mood. sometimes it's depressing posts time out of nowhere, but i'm not especially depressed!! nighttime is just more of my Peak Hours. night owl 4 life. thanks
oh and ps. another thing i would think about (with more distress in the past, and like, no distress now) is that its also funny cuz, one thing i’ve generally had to do is be aware that it’s a bigger deal for you (me) to get a new Friend than it is for them to be getting you as a friend, b/c math says so. and so i’ve had to push myself to not be overly hopeful or invested in order to be both fair to them and myself. and nowadays that’s just kind of how i view the no-friends-ness of it all, like. i’m not mad that i’m not for some reason way closer to anybody i know. why would i be. and i don’t expect anybody to think like “oh my god we have to be Good Friends” because like. not in a self deprecating way but like, why would any random person want that. and i dont expect to be better friends with ppl im just casual friends with, which is great, cus like Friendly Acquaintances and other lite friendships are fantastic and im very grateful. but i am aware there’s plenty of reasons making it difficult to just like, pick up a Close Buddy and i’m not like “oh i demand one from somewhere, from some reason.” so what i am trying to say is that keeping my expectations honestly realistic is an effort to be fair to both other ppl and myself and i think it works. no friends!! we out here!!!!
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