#and in fact some people in more blue states are more complacent!!!

[keylovesstuff]

Ok so @tiny-prom and @casual-derg 's Player One Luigi AUs has had in a chokehold for a minute and I had to write a little thing for Villainess Peach....cause I love her 👌🏾👌🏾👌🏾 and this little Idea has been on brain for a minute.

The final Hammer bro clutched its right arm and its trembling legs ultimately gave out collapsing on the ground. Struggling to maintain consciousness, it summoned what little strength was left to glance from the red boot to her blue.

"You ..won't get away... with this...Luigi…He'll stop you like always," it stammered out every word.

Princess Peach snorted with glee reverting her wand back to its battle axed state. She gave it a smirk and then her back before making her way to the throne room.

"Tell him I look forward to it." She said confidently.

Opening the doors to the chamber, as expected, she was met with an empty, bigger throne and a much smaller one beside it. Bowser made storming the place way too easy sometimes between leaving these goons he called as a defense and following his daily routine to a T. She might as well make herself comfortable for a bit, seeing as he wouldn't be back from his morning stroll for another hour. This Kingdom's so-called heroes must be out as well, seeing as no one came to the aid of the soldiers earlier. It was a special day, however, so it made some sense why they weren't around, she thought as she readjusted herself on the bigger throne. No more than ten minutes later did she hear the sound of footsteps approach the chamber, and in front of the opened door appeared her pride and joy.

"Dad, were you guys training the army again? I think you all went a little overboard." The prince commented in the direction of several laid out soldiers before letting out a surprise gasp."Mama Peach, " he yelled in excitement, running towards and jumping into her open arms as she stood up.

"Surprise," she said, pulling the koopaling into a tighter embrace. "Didn't I promise I'd come see you on your birthday?" She reminded him, smiling when she felt him nod in her neck.

"Thank you. Oh, Mama, " he pulled away to look at her."Were you the one who did that to everyone in the hallway? You should go easier on them next time, " Junior advised, looking back at the area once more.

"If I hold back, they'll never get stronger now, will they?" She asked, placing him down on the floor, giving him another smile as he sort of agreed. "I tell your dad that all the time, but I guess he's become rather complacent with those guys always around. Yes." Peach stated it as a fact more than a question.

"Luigi and Mario" The prince felt the need to clarify their names as he would always do. "They're the best fighters in the whole wide world," he praised, and she had to stop herself from outwardly grimacing.

"Yeah? Do you think they're even better than Mama?" She asked and giggled when he immediately went silent as he seemed to be thinking about it hard.

"Hmm, I can't decide who would win in a fight between you guys. Maybe a tie?" He concluded, not reaching a clear answer nor wanting to give it any more thought.

"A tie, huh? I'm glad you think so, son. " The Princess struggled a bit to maintain the calm and sweet demeanor in the presence of her child as she said that. It took her a few seconds to push the images of her losses to them into the back of her mind. "Well, you know mommy's can do anything, right? Even beat the best fighters in the world, " she told him, kneeling down to his eye level, and he nodded again.

The outcome would be different this time. Peach just knew that what she had planned would put an end to those guys once and for all. With them out of her way, Bowser would have no choice but to give into her demands. Finally, she would be able to raise her child how she wanted so that he could serve his purpose for the people. Letting her thoughts get ahead of her, she could feel a laugh undignified for a lady creeping up. Glancing at the clock, it appeared she only had about twenty minutes left till his Majesty would return if word hadn't reached him already about what went on not too long ago. If she didn't want her plans thwarted before having a chance to execute it, then it was probably best to get a move on.

"Junior, how about we -" she started and gasped, looking in every direction as if he had just vanished in thin air from where he was seconds ago. Switching from panic mode real quick, she once again reverted the battle axe to her wand mode just in case she ran into some minions daring to challenge her should they regain consciousness along her way.

Just as expected, Junior was in his mess of a room. Toys, crumpled up pieces of paper, bandana's, and art materials were scattered all over the floor while he was in the closet desperately searching for something. All she heard from him were "no's' ' , "not that", "how did this get in here" and saw the items being tossed out one after the other, She was starting to get antsy at Bowser returning and with those guys as well.

"Honey you shouldn't walk away when mama's deep in thought it's a little rude" she lectured "Oh but we simply must get going, I have a bunch of festivities planned for you back at the mushroom kingdom" Peach told him walking up to him at the closet.

"Found it!" He yelled in triumph, showing her a piece of paper with a drawing on it. Ignoring what she had just said, he pulled her arm so she'd lean down to look closer at the picture as he pointed to each figure. "That's Dad watching everyone from his seat, and that's Papa Luigi with huge muscles showing off his cool hammer. Right here, Kammy's fussing at Mario about something, I think he called her a funny name or something. Finally, me and you are over here holding hands and smiling. Do you like it?" He finished.

Peach focused on the image of the two of them for a little minute. She couldn't put a finger on it, but something was a little off about it. Then she caught it.

"Oh, what's that little thing on your head here?" She pointed to the picture of himself.

"That's your crown, can't you tell? You're not wearing it in the picture cause it's on me, " He told her as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "It reminds me of you since I don't see you all the time. At least on paper, I get to wear it just like you, Mama. Do you like it?" He repeated his question.

It took everything she had to hold back the tears of joy pricking at the corners of her eye. A son should never see his mother break down crying even if it is the happy sort. Winning the fight against her emotions, she took a deep breath before answering him.

"I love it. I'm happy to know you want to be just like mama sometimes. " She finished and started standing up before Juniors voice caught her attention midstand.

"You can have it. So whenever you miss me, you can look at the picture. " he handed it to her.

Peach held onto the paper with great care not to crease any of the already existing creases. Even with the addition of the four extra figures, Junior's art was perfect. So perfect, the thought of desecrating the portrait by cutting out the extra people as soon as she was alone with it exited her mind as soon as it entered. Yes, they could stay in pictured form she figured it'd be a good source to turn to should he find it difficult to produce some tears. Again, this plan is full proof, so he'd need many things to help him for the future.

"You're the sweetest." she placed her hand on top of his red hair and rubbed it softly. "But Mama's supposed to give you presents on your birthday." With a giggle, she stood up and reached for his hand. The boy took it, and she led him out of the room.

They walked a little ways outside the castle to the pipe she entered from. All while she promised him the best birthday cake and gifts he could dream of. The best part, though she reminded him, was that he was spending this special day with his mama.

[anethara]

i/p conflict. there is nothing coherent under this read-more. also a slur. and typos probably.

so. when i signed up to take this seminar about israel (ironically, about two weeks before 10/7), i did so thinking, "well, who knows. hopefully i will learn some new stuff and wrestle with this subject i have largely rejected whole cloth on account of annoyance." i expected to meet information i did not like or that made me uncomfortable. that's fine. that should be the drill, really, if you're jewish. "disturb us, Adonai, ruffle us from our complacency; make us dissatisfied" etc etc. and do you know what? it has changed my mind about some things - although, probably not the way the hartman institute imagined it would (the curriculum is a decade old). i'm not going to get into all that right now though.

no, i want to kvetch about something else that has happened in this class. i need to bitch and moan about the fact that almost no one else in the class seems to have come to the table with the same attitude. and i wonder: what the hell did you think we were going to discuss? we're talking about the challenge we face as reform jews in grappling with the israeli government's abject ideological failures. the whole program exists to resuscitate a conversation that had basically been abandoned by millennial jews because if our jewishness is in part defined by a commitment to social justice, we cannot feasibly support a state that flagrantly flouts those principles! so most of us threw our hands up on the subject of israel, and especially us american jewry - we said 'not my circus, not my monkeys.'

when all of this really popped off and suddenly every gentile could identify israel on a map, i was disgusted to realize something i've heard from basically every other jew ever, especially older folks: we will never really be assimilated, not truly. you're not nearly as american as you are jewish. this was logical knowledge, but until i experienced the ensuing tire spike of leftist antisemitism, it wasn't practical knowledge. it was like saying "yeah yeah i know how velocity works" and then getting into a neck-breaking car crash. because of this reaction, i did what a lot of us have done for the last few months: i retreated. i retreated because there has been no escape. in an age of surveillance normalcy and clickbait news, i cannot avoid incendiary headlines; goyim i haven't spoken to in months have flocked to my dm's (or invited me to dinner! without warning!) to ask me about my opinion on the war - a handful of these inquiries have been well-intentioned, if clumsy good-faith attempts, but most of them have the putrid aftertaste of "are you a good jew, or a bad jew?" lingering on them. even my beloved blue hellsite is not safe for me. and believe me, i have gotten very good at curating my dash over the years, but you people have found a way to fucking blast me with some of the most rancid, white supremacist tinfoil hat shit i've ever seen out in broad daylight, so to speak. i cannot tell you how many times in the last few months i've seen mutuals reblog something that made me think, damn just call me a kike and move on it will be better for both of us. so yeah, i've retreated. my non-jewish social circle shrunk exponentially within a matter of days. something i've had to repeat a lot is "i will have this conversation with other jews but i'm done having it with gentiles."

and now. and now. i cannot have this conversation with other jews!!!! at least, almost none who i see and interact with regularly. overnight, three fourths of my reform congregation turned to populist, nationalist rhetoric. people who months ago were championing reproductive freedom are now saying alarming things about the "duty" of jewish women to produce, and this is verbatim, "lots and lots of jewish babies!" today, in class, i had to fucking hand-hold someone through a reality check about the fact that hamas was not democratically elected so much as """democratically elected""" (read: at gunpoint) and you could see the gears turning, you could almost physically watch as this woman realized that if what i was telling her was true (which rabbi corroborated), that would logically terminate her justifications for violence against palestinians. "i just feel like if you support israel's military actions, there's no space for you in this conversation," she said, referring to the class. never mind that every fucking week we get derailed and the thing devolves into arguing about philosophical potholes and logical fallacies (which would be fine on saturday morning but this subject begs a slightly different tone imo). all we fucking do is hear out the pro-bibi spiel like patient parents and then gently try to offer facts and information only to be told we aren't 'making space' for the opinion that 'war crimes acceptable actually.'

anyway, all this to say that i am feeling deeply isolated and lonely right now. i don't want to talk to my remaining gentile friends about this. i can't talk with other jews about this, apparently. i haven't attended services in months (i'm usually there every week, fri-sun). i've been showing up to class via zoom (which i hate) so that i don't throw hands.

i gave rabbi a ride home the other night. she asked me, in the most earnest voice i have ever heard from another human being, "so. how are you doing?"

i do not know what compelled me to reveal this, especially to someone i have not had the easiest relationship with, but i said, "i'm sad. i'm lonely." she nodded. "hanukkah sucks this year. everyone who has ever conveniently forgotten about the maccabees for the last several decades - everyone who has celebrated a sanitized festival of lights so that we could compete with the christian slice of the hallmark card market - is suddenly trotting out the story of the revolt." she was still nodding. "and now, they've all gone and conveniently forgotten about how the hasmonean dynasty ended."

she seemed to chew on this for a moment. i like that about her. then she said, "if they ever even know about that part to begin with."

[shivasdarknight]

#wolqotd #wolquestion more like ancient question but how does venat get to meet your azem/ancient? and if it's the case, how does she (and/or remaining convocation peers) eventually appoint them as the next azem in line?

THIS IS A FUN QUESTION especially since this ties in with Charon and their relationships - ex and otherwise.

So, quick establishing info: Charon was the younger sibling of Hermes. They looked a lot like him, they were trans masc + genderfluid, Exclusively went by they/them, and a...very opinionated person. They were briefly seeing Emet-Selch and Hythlodeus, at some point. Briefly. They're exes.

When Venat met Charon, they were still with those two. So, one of the partners of her coworker. At this time, they were very much so like their brother: quiet, kinda depressive, spitting image of him with the dark, dull blue hair and startling green eyes. Venat - the very outgoing woman that she is - was quick to try and interact with them since I mean...she figures it's just polite to do so since they were the partner of her coworker.

She could also quickly tell that they weren't happy in that relationship. Mostly out of curiosity, she offered to take Charon on as an apprentice since it was a job that would allow Charon the freedom of travel that they didn't have. I still haven't figured out what it was, but let's be honest it was probably something lower ranking to do with experimental magic.

Once away from Amaurot and allowed space to breathe, the conflict became very clear: they were exactly like their brother in that they were deeply uncomfortable with the structure of their society and how it impacted those who were less fortunate - except unlike Hermes, this was mostly aimed at folks who weren't a good fit. Like those with lesser aether, or with issues with magic, or I don't know - someone disabled like them.

The ancient society screams ableism and I'm dying on this hill.

Anyways, once they're not as suffocated by that they start to really flourish under Venat? They talk a lot about their discomfort with their partners and how complacent they are with the state of things, how they just don't seem to care and all. Those two can't put themselves in someone else's shoes and see that there's something fundamentally wrong. Venat is one of the few people who sits down with them to walk them through their issues. So is it really any surprise that not only does Charon really begin to enjoy their travels with her, but really start to admire her?

This is around the time that Charon starts bleaching their hair, because they want to match with Venat - which yeah, Venat finds that really endearing. Charon grows more and more distant with their partners until it gets to where they dump them altogether. As Charon begins to grow more into themself, they get a hell of a lot more bold and outspoken and it brings out this petty streak of theirs.

Deeply petty.

Venat's choice to retire is both so she can be of help to a greater freedom than Azem would be, but also because she wanted to spend time with her partner, Khione. The two were hoping to have children, but unfortunately Khione was infertile.

Charon partly takes on the title of Azem to allow Venat that free time since they deeply disagreed with the whole. Dying when your job is finished thing, because they thought that was fucking dreary and disturbing. But also it's fucking funny being Azem because now they have to work with Emet, which.

I mean they hated it. They were constantly coming back home to Hermes to vent about how it felt like things were being undermined because of the fact that they were exes - yet he was the senior Convocation Member thus they couldn't say shit!

Their wanderlust was part of what made them a good choice for Azem, but their bullheadedness and their habit to take matters into their own hands resulted in them constantly getting in trouble with the Convocation. Lahabrea, especially, could not stand them. About the only one they got along with was Themis, and that's because he's Venat's younger brother in this.

The Convocation also didn't take too kindly to Charon hooking up with Venat and Khione. Partly because they thought Venat was kind of being selfish by not passing on, but also because they were just very hypercritical of anything Charon did. The further they got into the Convocation, the more obnoxious they got. And this continued into the Final Days.

About their only supporter was Hermes when he joined, and they actually advocated his appointment so that they'd have back up. They just weren't anticipating that he'd join on with the Zodiark project, and that resulted in them abandoning the Convocation to help Venat and her allies with the Hydaelyn project. They were to be the Heart of Hydaelyn, but they died before they could do so.

So yeah, it went from "partner of a coworker" to "apprentice" to "successor" to "lover" to "accomplice". Venat and Charon have a really interesting relationship, and this extends into Hydaelyn and all of Charon's incarnations - especially now that they've reincarnated into Surkukteni.

[1st-worldsaver]

Do you believe a revolution will happen in the America?

Assuming you're talking about the US, I don't see that happening in the foreseeable future.

A revolution occurs when the contradictions of society can no longer be ignored. When people have decided that they no longer will accept the current godawful living conditions imposed by the rich and start fighting back in an effective, organized manner (no, the whole occupy wall street and following copies do not count.)

It also demands a conscious people that has seen that the possible pain and death that a revolution would bring outweighs their current suffering, therefore deciding to support or at the very least agree with the revolution, something I don't see the general population of the US doing in the foreseeable future. They have been taught to only seek "harm-reduction" (no matter how fake that harm-reduction actually is) and never actual improvement. They simply cannot envision a better future, instead falling into the same "vote blue no matter who" thinking that never improves anything.

Most of them are incredibly selfish in the way that they've decided that the current deaths inside and outside their country are an acceptable sacrifice as long as everything remains the same: they do not want change, because a lot of them risk loosing their current superior life quality, even if some of them don't want to admit that their lives are better in thousands of different ways (see the "owning a dishwasher/car/playstation doesn't mean I'm rich!" when the absolute majority of the world can only dream of owning those things).

Even those who WOULD benefit from change don't want to risk it, because they've been equally indoctrinated to believe their current life situation is the best they can ever get, to be complacent, simply because they're living in "the land of the free". And once again: most of them are not prepared to do an actual, conscious choice to participate in a revolution, one that requires violence to fulfill.

That's another aspect of the problem: the whole voting/use your voice belief has made them incredibly scared of using violence to get their will through, because it's simply "wrong." Doesn't matter how much violence is needed to uphold the current situation (because they can just ignore it since no one is stating it outright), openly talking about using force to bring about change has in their mind been inextricably linked to "authoritarianism", which is the same as the nazis, which is the same as the communists! (At least in their mind). And so, the same charade of "doing exactly what the bourgeoisie tell you to do, namely Voting and Talking, will bring about our Liberation."

To me, it's more likely that forceful change will come about through a collapse of the US. That's something I can envision actual happening within the next 100 years, because their current system is just unsustainable. They start and fund billions of wars for the sake of their companies (that will abandon the country as soon as it starts being unprofitable), they are starting to loose economic ground to China (and BRICS has the potential to worsen that fact), other countries in turn are turning more towards China as well, and if they loose enough of their economic power, the whole country collapses (which is why they're doing everything they can to hold on to it).

So I wouldn't hold my breath expecting a revolution in the US.

For the rest of the americas, I hope Cuba, Nicaragua and Venezuela manage to keep their revolutions alive and protected. All the other countries, while having several problems, don't seem as "far gone" as to have a revolution soon either, but there is more of a historical precedent and far greater tradition of militant organization. I hope they can bring progress to everyone one day.

In the same vein, however, they are also stuck in protests that ultimately don't bring about real change.

Chile tried in 2019, but it ultimately didn't succeed. Honduras current government want to improve things, but they're stuck in the system of private corporations hindering them in every possible way, along with conservative politicians in their own supporting parties that refuse to cooperate. Poor Argentina is protesting as well, but as we already know, the ones in power have absolutely zero incentive to actually listen most of the time.

Bolivia seems to have been doing relatively well under Evo Morales, and Brasil seem to improve under Lula as well. However, as we all know, Evo was couped in a shamelessly open way, while Lula can only do his small changes until his term is up, and the whole country's future is once again left uncertain.

If you want change, it's not enough to protest or vote every four years within the current system. You must be willing to upend it from its very roots.

[concupiscience]

Critical theory has caused the west to be overly self-aware, to the extent that culture can no longer organically develop without obsessive comparison. Its tendency to dissect itself has left nothing but shards of thoughts, fragments of images that were once so tightly interwoven.

Therefore, we shouldn’t be concerned with the current popular trends, or even the forthcoming zeitgeist which is always visible over the waves of those successive trends, each obliterating the last in an endless cycle. Not now, not next, but what comes after that is our objective. What is unseen as of yet, that is our goal.

THE STARS THAT FLOG THE SEA WITH WHIPS OF LIGHT

NOT ME.

ecstatic rites of an elegant, ancient beauty

perishing under sickly skies

NEVER LOOK BACk

WHO FUCKING CARES

If u have formed some type of notion about me please just do us both a favor and just forget that shit because human beings are in a constant state of change

To taste every forbidden fruit,

松の木々を通る夕日の最後の光線 寒さを逃れるために南へ飛ぶ鳥たちを照らす

You are limitless potential. You are the clay at the potter’s wheel.

Is this hell? This is definitely hell.

that dusk-tinged demigod

Industrial society operates under the presumption that resources are infinite

A triumphant, arrogant attitude may be necessary from time to time

The same moon my ancestors and descendants behold

We’re all hoes under the same blue sky

Ephemeral and fleeting as a smoke spirit

Having drunk deeply from the cup of sin

Spoiling the land with hubris and greed

Wow imagine that, In our modern society everything has to be done for money

I think you live longer when you have a good attitude. There’s cases where cancer goes into remission when a person starts believing they don't have it anymore. Likewise, there’s also cases of people dying on purpose from resigning their will to live, like those super old couples who die within days of each other. You can control your health with your mindset, at least that’s what I believe. If your mind is thriving your body is thriving. Right but we do have free will to influence our future. “The system cannot be sustained indefinitely ” Right. Like why did a religious impulse develop independently in every single ancient culture.

Media consumes us. Objects own us. Money spends us.

The flowers bloom without caring if they are observed.

Pattern-Matrix

Mass media, escapism, distraction, bread and circuses, whatever you want to call it. Recorded by studios with more money than some countries, packaged neatly for mass consumption. This is the result of capitalism working flawlessly for over a century. the spectator becomes a mere receptacle for media, they become a consumer, the same way food is consumed then comes out as waste, media consumes us. The more people are emotionally invested in fictional people and fictional worlds the easier it is to distract them from what’s happening in real life- the panopticon of modern life. Your superheroes, singers, actors, exist for one purpose only: to sell you a product. Through our complicity they buy our complacency. They have taught us to be satisfied with “what is” and not think about “what could be” because that’s just the way it is. They exist to sell us an image of what our lives and the world ought to be, and we stupidly buy into it. It’s a drug we regularly take.There’s nothing wrong with enjoying movies, TV, books, music etc but you have to realize what is illusion and what is real. When you watch anything, imagine the processes that go into its production. Could this potentially be used to manipulate people into feeling a certain way? Is this fact or does it reflect the views of its creator? All I’m saying is that if you unplug from this “machine” things seem much more relative.

we are bound to our era. we cannot escape the present. 

The notion of a grand, divine scheme negates the possibility of free will. If God does have a plan for everyone, that would mean we only have the illusion of free will.

Tragic figures such as these

Traditions everywhere are dying, we must forge new ones

Wholly effaced by time

Writ large

Pastoral vibes

I believe there are multiple paths to God. The fact that religion has sprung up independently in so many places over so vast a distance is incredible. Jesus and Buddha weren’t so different in their teachings.

Some got it more right than others, obviously.

So there is actually very compelling evidence that early Christianity was heavily influenced by similar savior-centered religious sects such as Mithraism, Orphism and the veneration of Dionysus (they all belong to the subset of Rising-and-dying gods). We know for certain that in Alexandria, an extremely important centre for early Christianity, Buddhist monks taught at the library of Alexandria around the time of jesus.

Wine was central to the rituals of Dionysus, who was believed to have died and been resurrected.

The real importance is that Jesus and Buddha were real historical figures that established schools of thought that endured for millennia.

They both preached the importance of virtue and morality, sympathy for the suffering and acceptance of the transitory nature of the material world.

The library itself was mostly intact until the 260s AD when it was burned by Aurelian.

There is ample evidence of eastern thought circulating in the near east around the time of christ. Statues of hindu gods were found in Pompeii, in Alexandria itself a tombstone with the Wheel of Dharma was discovered, in the port city of myos hormos in Egypt a sail cloth of Indian manufacturing was discovered. The trade routes between judea and the east were active until the 4th century AD.

Theres a Christian tradition that the apostle Thomas died in India where the church he established still exists.

Paganism is an umbrella term for anything that isn’t Christianity, or more accurately the animistic traditions that predate monotheism.

Judaism is fascinating because we have proof it originally was polytheistic. It’s totally Canaanite in origin but over time yahweh was promoted to the status of one true god. The painted pottery from Kuntillet Ajrud Shows yahweh and Asherah (later ishtar, aphrodite) as his consort.

Religions dont appear from nowhere. They’re the product of thousands of years of tradition, thought, and self reflection.

Do you believe the bible refutes evolution?

I dont think it does either. Those seven days of creation are metaphorical. The bible says our lives are like a single breath of god. Which implies he operates on a much longer timescale than humans. So the space between the first and last days of creation could have been billions of years for all we know.

Because the second to last thing he did was to create humans. Evolutionarily, anatomically modern humans first emerged in east Africa around 100,000 years ago. The first stirrings of human culture were around 20,000 years ago. The pyramids were only built 4000 years ago. Rome was only 2000 years ago. We can’t even comprehend how early on in our journey thru the universe we are.

A mere blip in the cosmic timescale. We might not even survive another million years.

I’m tired of getting hurt

旅に病んで 夢は枯れ野を かけめぐる

Falling ill on a journey my dreams go wandering over withered fields

[no-one-fuck-a-man]

Berry Blues

Season One

Part Six - (Vitamin D) DRUGS??

Quinn Fabray x Reader

Summary: With morning sickness still growing strong, a crazy blonde lady with blue drugs, and a disagreement over the baby. You were left to feel uncomfortable with Mr Schuester and his assignment.

Word Count: 4,059

WARNINGS: Morning sickness, vomiting, drugs, feeling uncomfortable

-----

You were too busy texting to hear Mr Schue's rant at the team.

"-It's a grape stomping one."

"Y/N, who are you texting?"

"Huh?" You looked up at the sound of your name, finding your teacher and the rest of your friends looking at you. "Oh, my boss. He wants to pay me for some overtime this weekend, but I gotta study for the math test."

"Ah. Well, that's fine. You sort that out, then come back to us. Oh, and Y/N." Mr Schue turned back to you. "Your car has been parked outside the school for like the past two weeks and hasn't moved."

"Ah, yeah. I, uh, kinda lost my keys. And I've been meaning to get a tow truck out, but... I forget," you finished off slowly.

"Oh! I have your keys."

"What?"

Looking over to your side, you spotted Brittany digging through her Cheerios bag.

"They were on the piano, and I picked them up to give them to you, but I forgot."

You smiled tightly, feeling frustration building up inside you, but still heart-warmed at the girl's kindness.

"Thanks, Britt."

"I painted them pink."

Out from her bag, like a magician pulling a rabbit from a hat. Came your keys.

Now multiple shades of pink and covered with glitter.

Your friends had to stifle their laughs when they saw your keys, too. Some of them, even have to cover their mouths with their hands or turn their faces away.

You suddenly realised that this is what it must feel like to have a child.

Your smile tightened even further, unknowingly forced to the beaming girl, as your hands wrapped around your keys.

"Thanks, Britt."

You weren't trying to slack off during rehearsals like most of the other members. But you were taking it a little easier after the guys had filled you in on the competition for Regionals. Since you weren't there at the time. Too busy at your place with Quinn again, as she suffered from morning sickness.

But instead of it being relatively peaceful, you were stood behind the girl for most of the time as she emptied her stomach into the toilet.

And yeah, granted, you saying, "Oh, it's all over the walls," didn't help the situation at all.

Forewarning to everyone ever.

Morning sickness was hell on earth.

---

"Competition!" Mr Schue exclaimed, beginning to pin pictures up on the corkboard behind him, "Every one of these people or elements was a champion in their own right. But they used competing with each other to make themselves even better."

"I don't understand how lightning is in competition with an above-ground swimming pool," Kurt stated, mildly confused by the teachers choice of pictures.

"Just go with it."

"I, for one, would love to see a shark and a bear duke it out."

Mr Schue looked at you for a moment before shaking your words off too and continued his speech.

"You guys become complacent. You were great at the Invitational, but you got to up your game if you want to get through Sectionals. Okay, split up."

"Dude, don't yawn in my ear." You jolted away from Finn, who mumbled a sleepy apology.

"Guys on the left side, girls on the right side," the teacher said, pointing as he did, "Let's go, come on."

And so, everyone moved towards their respective sides, which pleased Mr Schue. Until Kurt tried to walk over to the girls' side.

"Kurt." Nothing more left his mouth. Only nodding over to the boys' side as soon as Kurt looked at him.

And the boy slowly, and unwilling, made his way back to the other side.

'Well, that was awkward'

"Uh, Mr Schue?" You raised your hand. "I would be more than happy to switch out with Kurt. Because I know for a fact that whatever the girls are gonna wanna do, I'm not gonna be down for. And I'm gonna get outvoted. Same goes for Kurt. So, it makes sense just to switch us out."

"No," he replied slowly, almost trying to insinuate that you were stupid, "You're both staying where you are."

You threw your arms out to your sides while looking at Kurt, mouthing over to him, 'I tried'.

"Here's the deal! Two teams. Boys versus girls. One week from today, you will each perform a mash-up of your choice."

"What's a mash-up?"

"A mash-up is when you take two songs and mash them together to make an even richer explosion of musical expression. Boys will perform on Tuesday, girls the next day. I want you guys to go all out, okay, costumes, choreography. Whoever wins the competition gets to choose the number for that we do for Sectionals."

"Who's going to be the judge?" Rachel asked, "Your gender makes you biased."

Mr Schue 'Ah'd while throwing a baseball up and down, where did he even get that?

"There is going to be a celebrity judge."

"Wh-w-who?"

"Oh, you're going to have to show up find out."

"I bet it's the meat vendor at the supermarket."

Mercedes scoffed assuredly, as all the girls started to walk out, you trailing after them, before throwing your arms over Brittany and Santana's shoulders.

"We got this in the bag."

"Totally," your sister agreed, "I'm going to start storyboarding our choreography tonight."

"Please don't use me as a living manikin like you normally do," you groaned, "I pulled my back last time with that weird stretch you made me do."

---

"O-okay, girls, we need to get started," Rachel said as she walked into the dance room where most of the Glee girls were, either busy stretching, doing their make-up, or chatting while doing their nails.

Santana scoffed, "We're getting warmed up."

"Where's Quinn?"

"Probably down at the mall looking for elastic-waist pants," Brittany joked, causing all of the girls to giggle.

"And Y/N?"

"Whenever Quinn's gone, so is Y/N." Mercedes shrugged.

---

"Here you go, Cinderella," you said, passing Quinn some tissues to wipe her mouth. Once she was finished heaving over the toilet bowl and resting tiredly against the bathtub.

She wiped her mouth and threw the tissue into the bowl. You, taking that as an indication for you to flush the chain before crouching down in front of her.

"How you feeling?"

She hummed, pausing to think about what to say to you in reply.

"Tired."

You nodded softly. "Okay."

Quinn's slowly blinking eyes suddenly shot open when you reached under her arms to help her up, proceeding to lead her into your bedroom.

"My bed's much comfier than the sofa." You pointed to a door. "The on-suite is through there. And I'm gonna be at my desk if you need me," you finished. While helping her out of her white shoes as she sat on the edge of the bed.

"Thank you."

"It's no problem."

"No. Seriously. Thank you. I've been awful to you. Even more so to your sister, sometimes. And you do this for me?"

You took a deep breath and exhaled it before looking up at the blonde.

"That's true. But... you need help. You're pregnant, and you don't really have anyone else. I- I can't explain it very well." You shook your head with slightly furrowed eyebrows. "You look lost. And no matter what, I feel the need to help you at least a little bit. So, if me rubbing your back as you puke and letting you sleep in my house helps you when you can't do it anywhere else. Then I'm happy to do it."

She looked like she was blinking away tears, and it seemed that one of the only thing's Quinn could say was, "Thank you," since that was the only thing she managed to whisper.

"Get some sleep." You smiled at her, helping her lay down. "I'll be no more than a shout away."

"Thank you."

---

"Haven't seen you at Glee rehearsals."

With the faint sound of your sister's voice, you were pulled away from your phone. Spotting her walking up to Quinn.

Oh, what a lovely opportunity for you to mess with them.

"I'm not Superwoman," Quinn informed, just as you slid, literally slid, up behind her, and your shoulder connected to the lockers with a loud clang.

'Ouch'

"You would look good in that costume. Thinking of swapping one skirt for another, blondie?" She rolled her eyes at you over her shoulder.

"I know Glee is your whole life," she continued to speak to Rachel, as if you weren't even there, "But I have the Cheerios, and I'm on honour roll-"

"Oh, so you're smart smart."

"-I have friends."

"You don't have to be embarrassed," Rachel called after her, "No one at Glee is gonna judge you."

"Oh, I think it's also the fact she's been remaking that one scene out of The Exorcist."

She walked right past you and up to the blonde cheerleader, who turned to face her.

"Look, I know everyone expects us to be enemies-"

"Uh, why?"

"-And be in competition, but I don't hate you," she said while shaking her head.

"No one listens to me."

"Why not?" Quinn asks, "I've been awful to you."

"That was before you knew what it felt like to be me;-"

"Pregnant?" You rushed up to ask her.

"-An outsider."

"Oh, thank God." You breathed a sigh of relief. "I won't need to go to jail for attempted murder."

"More people are gonna start finding out about this, and you're gonna need friends who can relate."

You nodded your head. "Pregnant people." A hand was suddenly covering your mouth as the cheerleader had finally had enough of your comments. Well, at least it wasn't your full face this time. And you were left to watch the two talk like it was one really slow tennis match.

"How can you relate to what I'm going through?"

"You don't think people whisper about me in the lunchrooms or draw pornographic pictures of me on the bathroom walls?"

Quinn could absolutely feel the cringe that overtook your face behind her hand at that.

"That was me, actually," Quinn admitted, which only lead to you look at her with a heavy movement of your head, eyes boring into her.

The incredibly muffled sound of your words made its way through her palm.

"Really? You do realise how gay that is, right?"

"Look, I don't agree with the choice you're making, but you're gonna need glee. You have seven months of your youth left. You should enjoy it. And let's face it, in a couple of months, that cheerleading uniform isn't gonna fit-" You nodded and shrugged at that in agreement. "-And we're gonna be all you have left. Just come back to practice. Boys versus girls. It's fun. And we could certainly use your voice right now."

You certainly wished you could use yours right now, too.

"You're actually a good singer, Quinn. Occasionally sharp, but that's just because you lack my years of training."

You rolled your eyes. Muttering through Quinn's hand again, "I'm in a worse off boat than you. She says this shit to me all the time."

"I would have tortured you if the roles were reversed, you know?"

"She would have needed to have sex first."

A swift slap to your abdomen. And a groan into Quinn's hand was your repayment for that.

"I know."

Then she walked away, leaving you alone with the blonde looking after her before Quinn turned back around to you. Only to find you waving your fingers at her in greeting.

"You are so annoying."

You licked her palm.

"Ew!" Quinn exclaimed, wiping her hand on your shoulder and to your chest, in an attempt to dry it. As you smiled brightly at her.

"So, pornographic pictures of my sister, huh?" She rolled her eyes dramatically and began walking away, you hot on her heels. "You so wanna fuck her."

"I do not wanna fuck her- I don't wanna sleep with any Berry, for that matter."

"Really? What about strawberries? I feel like they'd be really kinky."

"Oh, my God!"

---

"I told you guys."

You sighed deeply at your sister's words. Eyes rolling as she continued to go around and around with the same rant.

"We know," Santana said, "You've been berating us for the better part of an hour."

"Were they really that good?"

"They were, Quinn."

"But how ?" you asked next, "They're... them. "

"Look, I was fine with arranging, choreographing, and directing this number free of charge," Rachel listed off, "But we underestimated the boys. Their number will go to Sectionals, and once again I. Will. Be. Humiliated."

"How were we supposed to know they'd rock the house?" Mercedes asked, "They've never been good."

"How did they d-d-do it?"

"The real question is, "What were they on"?" Kurt said, suddenly standing in the doorway, "Though I've been grouped with the boys, my allegiance still remains with you ladies."

"Just so you know, although I may prefer to perform with those guys in a 'boys versers girls' scenario," you pointed out, "My allegiance is not with them. They suck."

"They declined my offer to do their hair in cornrows, and all my artistic decisions have been derided as too costly because they involve several varieties of exotic bird feathers."

"I mean, I agree with them on the cornrows thing."

"We all took something," he admitted, as a matter of fact.

Everyone looked aghast at Kurt.

And you could only ask one thing.

"Speed?"

---

"Why am I here?"

"Everyone gets a dose," Will's crazy wife Terri said as she handed out tiny cups with two blue pills resting in them.

"Why am I here?"

"Oh, except for Quinn. You get folic acid," she leaned in close to the blonde cheerleader by your side to whisper, "Mama. It's good for the baby."

The girl looked to the side, being made uncomfortable by the woman.

Terri tried to hand you a cup filled with the pills, just like she had done with the cup of water.

But, just like with that, you kept your arms crossed over your chest and shook your head.

"I ain't taking those," you scoffed.

The woman rolled her eyes and instead handed the cup to Rachel.

"Get the lid out, Howard. We have patients waiting."

"Are you sure we should be doing this?" your sister asked, finally speaking some sense into the room.

"Oh, it's over the counter. It's safe."

"Yeah, and so's a lot of things. Doesn't mean you should be taking them."

"You can trust me," Terri said, and you furrowed your eyebrows at the woman, "I'm a nurse. It's good for you."

"Correction. You're a crazy lady."

"I am not crazy."

"First step to getting help is admitting you have a problem."

"I know what I'm doing."

"Big doubt."

There was a lull in the room, and then the girls lifted the cup containing the pills to their lips.

"Don't take those," you said, looking down at your sister on the other side of you.

She didn't listen.

And neither did any of the other girls, who had the blue pills.

They proceeded to lift the water cups to their lips next, and along with your protests, they swallowed the pills.

'Fuck sakes'

---

"Rachel, you got a shirt size too small!" you called as you came from behind the clothes rack, clad in a bright yellow shirt.

"Woo, woo. Hot stuff."

You rolled your eyes at Santana's teasing. Moving to gesture to your sister.

"I feel like I could rip this thing, like Hulk Hogan."

Rachel had an off-world look in her eyes, thanks to the pills Terri had given her, as she spoke, "You'll be great. We're all gonna be great!"

You were silent for a few seconds, just watching as she was unable to stand still without shaking, "There's meth in those pills, isn't there."

"I think you look fine, Y/N," Quinn, the only other sober one, stated.

"Oh, no. I know I look good. I'm just worried about literally splitting a seam up there."

Your sister walked away from you to bug someone else over the upcoming performance. Leaving you alone with the blonde.

"Well, if you do, it will make for a memorable performance."

"Yeah, that, and Rachel will kill me."

"That is a possibility. I won't lie to you."

"Possibility?" you asked, "I think you mean 'probability'."

The girl giggled but nodded along anyway.

"And I'm just glad that I ain't on my moon sickness while wearing these bright white pants." You looked down, evaluating the outfit you were currently wearing. "That could be very dangerous."

"Moon sick-? Wait. Did you just refer to menstruation as 'moon sickness'?"

"Yeah." You nodded with a shrug. "You don't like that one? I have more-"

"Please don't."

"In body massacre-"

"Stop."

"Uterus' hissyfit-"

"Please-"

"Nine out of ten women do not recommend. Shark week's a pretty normal one. I once heard someone call it 'Satan's sacrificial waterfall'."

"Oh, please God, stop."

"Places!" Rachel screeched suddenly, "The boys will be here any minute."

"Saved by the Berry, huh?"

"Also tortured by the other Berry," Quinn countered.

'I hate this', you thought, as you stood beside Tina with your hands on your hips, 'I should have skipped'

"Thank you so much. It really is a pleasure." You watched your sister as she quickly spoke, eyes worried and slightly confused. It was like with every second that passed, those pills affected her more and more. "While the boys chose a selection of songs that cast an eye inward on the irresponsible life choices and sexual hunger of today's modern teens. We have chosen a selection of songs that speak to the nation as a whole during these troubling times filled with economic uncertainty and unbridled social woe."

'Okay, Jesus Christ, girl, breathe. Calm down'

Quinn was side-eyeing her as best she could with her head turned to the side, just like you were. As Tina looked back and forth, with a bright smile pulled across her face. Also out of her mind thanks to those pills.

"Because if there's two things America needs right now, that is sunshine and optimism ."

Rachel took a few deep breaths as Kurt slid a pair of sunglasses on his face while some of the boys looked at him, obviously putting two and two together.

'There you go'

"And also angels!"

'I take it back'

You hated that.

You hated that so much.

You can't remember the last time that you had felt that uncomfortable.

Currently trying to catch your breath as you sat behind Quinn. While Mr Schue, along with everybody else, clapped.

"Ladies, I don't even know what to say. You did such a good job!" he said while high-fiving you all, "I don't know what you guys did, but whatever it was, keep doing it! Our celebrity judge has her work cut out for her."

The bell rang the moment he finished speaking, much to your relief.

The girls started rushing past him to exit the room, your sister wrapping the man up in a big hug.

'Note to self: Never let Rachel drink alcohol. Ever'

"Mr Schue." You gained the man's attention as you walked by him. "Never make me do anything like that again."

All you heard was a faint, resided, "Yeah", as you followed the girls from the room.

---

"I'm being serious-"

"When have you ever?"

"Okay. I take offence to that. But if you would just listen to-"

"Mrs Schuester," Quinn said, walking away from you and towards the crazy lady. "I need to talk to you." She leaned in closer to whisper, "About the baby."

"I can't even finish a fucking sentence around here," you muttered, trailing after the two.

"Is everything okay? Wait, you're not having it right now, are you?"

"What?"

"What?" You and Quinn asked at the same time, aghast by the woman's stupidity, "No. Aren't you supposed to be a nurse?"

Terri made a small noise in conformation.

"She's a nurse in this school."

Quinn came to stand in front of the older blonde, you standing beside the two, watching as they talked.

"I've been thinking about your offer."

"No."

"Yeah?" she gasped softly.

"I like my life. I like being a cheerleader, and I can't believe I'm actually saying this, but I really like being in Glee Club."

"Aww, see. I knew you were really a big ol' softie."

"Do you want me to cover your mouth again?" Quinn sassed, looking up at you.

You did the smart thing and kept silent.

"I have all these great things in my life-"

"Am I one of them?"

"Stop."

"You didn't say "no"."

A deathly glare from the cheerleader was your final warning, and you took it.

She turned back to Terri. "And it already feels like too much." Quinn took a quick glance around at her surroundings and whispered, " I can't raise a baby. "

"You know, honestly, I don't even know how you kids do it nowadays."

"You need the birds and the bees talk now, too? Because I think you might if you thought the baby was coming now."

"I mean, I didn't have it this bad when I was your age," she admitted, "But there weren't as many TV channels either, though. Is Finn okay with this? 'Cause, you know, I don't want any baby-daddy drama when you hand it over to me."

"He's the reason I'm doing this." Quinn nodded. "He's such a good guy. And he internalises all this pressure. He's gonna have a heart attack. I never want Mr Schuster to find out about this, though. I don't wanna hurt him either."

"Oh, you're secret's safe with me."

'Well, of fucking course, it is!'

"I have a lot more to lose."

"You have to keep quiet, too," Quinn said, turning to you.

"I don't like this."

"I know."

You gave a great sigh. "Fine... I won't say anything." You then pointed at them. "But if this bites me in the ass, I'm coming for both of you."

"One more thing," Quinn said before Terri could walk off, "You know how you gave me those vitamins for the baby?" Terri nodded, giving another one of those high noises of conformation. "I really appreciated that. But I'm gonna have all these doctors bills, and I'm gonna need some new maternity clothes."

"You want money from me?" she asked as if it was rude of Quinn to even bring it up.

"It's gonna be your baby."

"Which means I'm gonna be paying the bills for eighteen years. I think you can handle nine months."

"Nine months of medical bills, that will cost way more than taking care of the baby for like what, two years, without insurance. At sixteen years old," you imputed, to which Terry rolled her eyes at.

"Look, you're making the right call here, Quinn. It's what's best for everybody."

And with a bright smile that, not gonna lie, creeped you out, Terri walked away. Leaving you and Quinn to watch after her.

"Anybody."

"What?"

"Anybody would be better than her."

***

Everyone was standing, gathered around in the choir room, looking at the teacher.

"We're really sorry, Mr Schue."

"We didn't mean to get you into any trouble," Rachel finished off for Finn.

"I'm really disappointed in you guys. Glee is supposed to be about what's inside your heart, not what's coursing through your veins."

"Well, not my veins. I didn't take any." You nodded your head to the side. "'Nd neither did Quinn." The club turned to look at you, eyes hard. "What? It's true."

"We know," Rachel replied to Mr Schuester's words, "And I think I speak for everyone when I say that we'd be happy to move forward and put this episode behind us."

"Well, it's not that simple. Because of this debacle, it's been decided that I'm no longer fit to run Glee Club myself. We've been assigned a codirector," he struggled to say.

"Who?"

"Hey, kids!" Sue walked in with a laugh.

'Oh'

"I gotta tell ya, I'm just thrilled, to be coming on board, to co-captain, your little, uh, showbiz cruise."

'My'

"Ah! I can't wait to start singing and dancing and maybe even putting on the Ritz a little bit."

'God'

-----

Prev Part | Next Part

[arkus-rhapsode]

Bnha chap 302 was crazy! So many stuff have been revealed! What did u think of it?

(So before I start, I just want to say, sorry it took me a few days to answer this. when discussion recent chapters of MHA, I’m trying now to wait for the official release before posting anything. I know I haven’t always been the best when using scans vs official releases, but I’m going to try and make this more a  thing. Given some flack I’ve received in the past, as well as recent crack downs by shueisha. So you can send me asks like this, please I’m not discouraging it. but you’re just going to have to wait till after the official releases.)

With the preamble out of the way OH MY GOD! This flashback chapters are amazing! Like this has been the kind of stuff I’ve been waiting for in MHA after the metric crap ton of build up by Horikoshi. And its not disappointed.

First, I do likeEndeavor’s gradual decline into is asshole self from Shoto’s memory. It’s vocally recognized that Endeavor is breaking societal taboos with his Quirk Marriage. Not only his selfish wishes to have an ultimate child to surpass All Might, but Toya is basically one of the worst combinations of this selective breeding. Being that he has stronger fire than Endeavor, but he has resistance to cold temperature so he’s just burning his body.

Yet Endeavor still is more focused on surpassing All Might. And when he comes to the realization that Toya will never surpass All Might, he decides to make a his real ultimate child. Now the reason I like this is because this isn’t Endeavor just being like “I need to surpass All Might with the perfect child”, its also, “I need to create my ideal child which will surpass All Might and act as a deterrent to Toya wanting to be a hero.”

Now, I love this scene, not just because no matter how Endeavor tries to justify his actions, he is still ultimately breaking societal conventions just to selfishly surpass his rival. But it also shows, Endeavor is aware of Toya’s feelings. He KNOWS Toya won’t stop trying to be a hero. He’s not some ignorant to his son wanting to live up to his dream of the ultimate hero. But his plan to stop Toya is not altruistic. It’s still selfish. His plan is literally to make an actually superior child, just to get his son to give e up. Its probably the worst thing you can do.

And most recently in 302, when that doesn’t work and Toya still burns himself and tries to attack Shoto. Endeavor finally just decides to no longer deal with this. personally. He is leaving Toya to Rei and is just going to focus on Shoto. He’s pushing a problem onto someone else and NOW he’s just ignoring it.

And then he just doubles down worse from there. Actually becoming more of the abuser that Shoto and Natsuo remember. All because Rei couldn’t keep Toya in line. Even though Toya was his son too.

It’s been awhile since we have seen Endeavor as the antagonistic figure. And I know the story of Endeavor will always be a tough one because its ultimately one trying to redeem an abuser. And I like that in this flashback, we are really reminded of why Endeavor wants atonement, because what he did to his family was wrong. And now we’re actually seeing it. Hell, some of it is more uncomfortable because we now see, its not like Endeavor was so pure evil psychopath, he gradually slipped from some wrong-headed jerk who was breaking taboos who is aware he’s doing bad things but pushing forward to ignoring his problems he’s caused to finally lashing out at his family as if it’s not also his responsibility. 

And we see a man who is regretful. But he still made mistakes. And I like that this hasn’t just been for the audience, this has been for Endeavor. Because he can no longer keep those skeletons in his closet nor is he in a position to throw himself a pity party. Again, we still have to wait a few chapters before we see like how this pays off. But Rei is reminding him that if he really wants to make things better and prove he’s a better person, then let’s start by getting his house in order.

Speaking of Rei, this has been a pretty interesting character study for her as well. We see Rei as pretty much a passive player both in the series up to this point being in a hospital, but also in this flashback. She agrees to be Enji’s wife and while she’ll speak up, she doesn’t stop Endeavor from having more kids. Nor does she stop him from really separating the kids. She also brings it up that like Endeavor, she didn’t really “see” what was really going on with Toya.

While Endeavor may have thought a deterrent of making him Toya give up would work, Rei try to just talk to Toya about looking beyond his father, but its not just wanting his father’s attention that is driving Toya mad. Its the fact that his birth was solely to make an ultimate Quirk users and if he’s not then his whole creation is pointless.

Because at he core, she is still complacent with this arrangement. From her family to the fact that when she can’t actually stand up to Enji, she then starts lashing out at the children who remind her of them. She has hurt her children too and its wrong. But unlike Endeavor who is really now just trying to come to grips with that, Rei has clearly stewed in that self loathing for a while. And now, she’s not being passive, she’s now taking a stand and being the one who needs to pull Endeavor out of his own self-pity.

Its very nice to see this character who, like Endeavor, has transformed over the course of this union.  

Now what does this mean for their marriage? As this seems to be the root cause of here passivity. I’m not sure. But Hori has given me no reason to think he’ll do something crazy with it. So I’m going to wait and see.

Now onto the man himself, Toya. Man finding out about Dabi has been a trip. Because at first it seems like he just wants his dad’s attention. To be proud of him. But its more than just that. Toya has a fire in him that won’t go out.

Toya’s “fire” isn’t this drive to be number 1 hero and get the glory. Its literally the validation of his existence. Because he was made to surpass All Might. If Toya can’t do that, then he failed at his existence. 

It really pulls back that Dabi doesn’t hate Endeavor because of abuse like Rei, Shoto and Natsuo. Dabi hates Endeavor because he was born solely to fulfill his mission, and when he was physically incapable of doing so, he replaced him with a child who could. It hurts to watch.

Because Dabi will never get over the fact of why he’s here in the first place, I think a lot of kids when they get older have that realization about why they’re here is because of their parents. And Toya can literally trace why his father made him. As he recalled with Snatch.

Just contemplating his family and why he’s here. He lost it.

We also get some cool details on Dabi’s powers. With his flames growing even stronger from red to blue, but also that the burns around his chest that we first saw in his video is intentionally so he could both hide the burns but also avoid hurting him.

There’s also the fact that his flames are tied to his emotions. Probably why whenever we see Dabi he’s mostly irate and disinterested. But when he finally had to get infront of Endeavor and the world, Dabi lets all his emotions come out. Letting him use flash fire and be wary more gleeful in his destruction. Yet we see that any times he cranks up his emotions, he always starts crying. Like he did with Snatch and Hawks. Which is such a subtle touch that I love.

There’s also his unique resentment towards the women in his family more than Natsuo. Now Endeavor we know he clearly hates, but when it came to Natsuo, he ignored him. But he knew Rei and Fuyumi the longest, and they did nothing for the longest time.

We also see the beginning of Dabi’s use of faux concern about society and using it as a way to turn people on Endeavor. 

Dabi has stated he doesn’t care about the League of Villains. Even in his big speech about how its Endeavor’s fire that let him kill people, he knows that’s a lie too. He would talk about confiding in his beloved brother, but if it meant making his dad suffer, he would’ve killed him.

Dabi’s hate is for one man, and if he can use anything to make Endeavor’s existence a living hell, he’ll use it. And we see that his hate is justified, but he will wrap that hate in a way to get others to feel like him. Its very effective.

Its just nice to see a villain who gets a bunch of build up LIVE up to all his hype. Its not like a let down, its just opening more doors to explore.

And now we get to the Todoroki family. Where do we go from here? Well Dabi isn’t just an Endeavor problem or a Rei problem, its a family problem. They all share the burden and Dabi will be their goal.

And I like this because, for the most part, Shoto completed his arc in the Sports Festival of hating his dad, but then accepting this is his power and looking beyond Enji. And while that wasn’t the end as he still has to make his choice on wether to accept his dad as a changed man or not, that’s more part of Endeavor’s goal. Shoto has been sorta like Deku and Bakugo with a focus on being number 1.

But now he has real and true personal motivation that no one but this family can really address and I am excited. I’m glad that the prominent characters of this series like Shoto has something to do. I get that all the kids in UA will never truly get this treatment. They have focus, but they are still mainly supporting cast. But having a main character really be able to justify why they’re up in front is great. I’m eager to see what awaits the Todoroki family in the future.

[akookminsupporter]

Not all skinship is romantically or erotically charged. We will keep saying it until we turn blue in the face. Platonic male affection expressed physically and verbally is healthy. But even in societies where heterosexual men snuggle and say how cute they find each other, LGBTQ people exist. Even in an industry where markers of gay identity are eroticized, marketed and $old to titilated consumers, LGBTQ peope exist.

Jikook seem different. It may take a while of being exposed to Kpop, Korean social mores and the culture within one group of men to be able to see it. It may take critical thinking or life experience. For many (though not all or majority), accepting the possibility that Jikook are a couple happens only after actively fighting against a lifetime of social conditioning and sterotypes. Thinking it outlandish or impossible that two male artists and performers may have fallen in love over a period of time together shows just how engrained heteronormativity is in many people's consciousness.

Saying 'I don't think Jikook are together', or 'Jikook seem like brothers to me' doesn't make anyone a homophobe necessarily, at least not in my opinion. But doesn't living in a society do a number on all of us? Homophonia is socially, culturally produced. We don't always recognize it. Growing up seeing only one model of a romantic relationship (m/f) privelaged and glorified so that anything outside of that model is coded as inherently 'other' engenders a level of homophobia. Homophobic teachers. Homophobic curriculums (did anyone here have any LGBTQ sex ed in their school?). Homophobic laws or lack of laws. The complacency of politicians. The hatred of politicians. The religious right. Compulsary heterosexuality. Mainstream media. Capitalism. Prescriptive clothing. Co workers asking 'but why do you need a parade?' Parents and teachers saying 'if we teach children about a diversity of families we are condoning the gay lifestyle'. Cis women on TV saying 'I love my gays. Let's go shopping!' Prolonged queer baiting on television shows. Apathy. The fact that homosexuality is ILLEGAL IN 70 COUNTRIES AS OF 2020. The fact that THE DEATH PENALTY IS IMPOSED ON LGBTQ PEOPLE IN 12 COUNTRIES AS OF 2020. (Lgbt people are regularly executed in Saudi Arabia, Yemen, and Sudan. Provinces in Nigeria, and Somalia have also recently seen executions.) The fact that many people and governments to this day classify homosexuality as 'a disease'. The list goes on and on.

Homophobia is a product of living in societies. Heteronormativity can show up in countless facets of life. An attitude toward celebrities may seem like a frivolous thing, but it reflects a certain level of indoctrination. Homophobia is a culturally produced fear. It can be internalized, or externalized. It can manifest in violence. It can make the lives of LGBTQ people feel hopeless and untenable (almost half of lgbtq youth in South Korea attempt suicide at least once before the age of 18). Internalized homophobia is at least a part of why so many of us LGBTQ people may experience relationship problems, depression and alienation at some point on our lives. We all probably catch ourselves saying and thinking things that are the result of cultural and social baggage. Being open to the possibility of gay relationships among idols isn't any kind of heroic or activist stance. But publically decrying the possibility, and attempting to poke and provoke those who beleive a same sex romantic relationship exists, and convince them how wholly 'impossible' it is- ACTUALLY TAKING THE TIME TO DO THIS- might say a lot about you.

This article contains really important information on the state of LGBTQ rights worldwide as of May, 2020. Parts of it are absolutely harrowing.

https://www.forbes.com/sites/jamiewareham/2020/05/17/map-shows-where-its-illegal-to-be-gay--30-years-since-who-declassified-homosexuality-as-disease/

“Thinking it outlandish or impossible that two male artists and performers may have fallen in love over a period of time together shows just how engrained heteronormativity is in many people's consciousness.” “Homophobia is socially, culturally produced.” “Homophobia is a culturally produced fear. It can be internalized, or externalized.” “But publically decrying the possibility, and attempting to poke and provoke those who believe a same sex romantic relationship exists, and convince them how wholly 'impossible' it is- ACTUALLY TAKING THE TIME TO DO THIS- might say a lot about you.”

Anon I honestly have nothing to add other than: I agree with you 1000000%. Hate, racism, homophobia etc., are.... taught feelings.No one is born hating, but we are raised learning to do it.

“Man is Good by Nature but Corrupted by Society.” (Rousseau)

The numbers you quoted in addition to the article, are extremely frightening.

The social and institutional persecution at the same time as the abandonment of both for LGTBQ+ people is hard to believe, how you can deny a PERSON their rights simply for being themselves? it is disheartening to see society's double standards in demanding equality in other instances, for other communities but when it comes to the LGTBQ+ people they turn into shakira: Ciega, Sordomuda.

[just-call-me-the-intrusive-thot]

An Unlikely Suspect

A Sanders Sides Among Us AU (Semi Janus Centric)

Pairings: Hinted Romantic Prinxiety, Romantic Logicality (might get clarified if I write a follow up), Platonic Virmile, Platonic Moceit, Familial Creativitwins, Platonic Moxiety Trigger Warnings: Character Death (Some semi descriptive), Gore, Light Body Horror descriptions , Remus being Remus, swearing Word Count: ~ 3600 

When an Imposter is found aboard the Skeld, life for the crew is turned upside down. Accusations, betrayals, and too many lies to count, can the crew survive the parasite’s attempt to take over?

[All characters belong to @thatsthat24 , I hope I did them justice ]

--

Life aboard the Skeld had never been easy. 

Even Janus couldn’t lie about that. The work days were long and never ending aboard the flying crapshack (seriously, was health and safety a joke to their superiors back on Earth?!) but no one was prepared for the Imposters.

The crew had treated them as a distant worry when the warning came through communications. The kind of warning that they regarded with a snort, perhaps a retort of “that sort of thing would never happen to us, it only happens to other people”. The same kind of blissful dismissiveness you’d expect when talking about the chances of dying on a rollercoaster, or being caught in the middle of a mass car pile up. 

Complacency, unearned comfort. No one spared more than a passing thought for the Imposters for months..

Then Dr. Emile Picani was found dead at his desk and suddenly the threat was all too real, all too quick. 

With a check of the medical records, once the crew found out one of the scans had come back as an Imposter, accusations had flown all too hastily in the beginning.

“Patton, you were in charge of manning the airlock! Didn’t you check the cargo properly?!”, Roman had accused him, alongside a couple of other crewmates. 

“B-But I did!! I swear!!”, the cyan-clad crewmate had protested, “I checked every single crate-!”

“Sounds sus, I say we make sure he never forgets to check the airlock ever again!”, Remus had all too cheerfully suggested. Thankfully their first in command, Logan, had stepped in to diffuse the argument, “Nonsense. We have very little evidence of any wrongdoing on Patton’s part. There’s only seven of us now, all crewmates will be crucial to our survival. Thus, no one will be taking action against him, or any other crewmate, without my strict approval. Is that clear?”

Aside from disgruntled remarks and some small accusations of favouritism, Logan was in charge, and the only crewmate able to prove his humanity since his medical scan was the only one left with the name undisturbed in haste, and thus was able to keep the crew in order, saving Patton from a horrific execution. 

For three days.

The implementation of a buddy system of sorts had been a flawless plan, allowing Logan to remain the only solo crewmate, checking in on each duo; Patton and Remy manning storage and the medbay, the twins handling waste disposal and electrical matters, and Virgil and Janus managing weapons and navigation systems. A smooth journey, only to be shattered by a blackout. 

Pandemonium had ensued almost immediately; halves of duos unwisely tried to head towards electrical, armed only with their tiny standard issue flashlights, leaving their other halves to try and find them or remain calm in the pitch blackness. Ten minutes felt like an eternity as Remus, with the aid of Janus, finally got the electrical wires properly repaired. The rest of the crew were quick to head towards electrical, hoping to account for everyone. However, a headcount carried the awful realisation that they were one short.

Logan.

Patton was the first to head for security, followed right after by the crew, only to find a gruesome scene. Logan Croft - what was left of him - lay motionless on the floor at the end of a blood trail that led towards the vent across the room. A distraught Patton stayed behind to guard the body alongside Virgil and Remy, while Janus and the twins tried to figure out where the imposter had come in from. Knowing that the vent system capped off certain sections, they only needed to check two other locations; electrical and medbay.

The former came up empty, so Janus led the group to the latter, kneeling down to check the vent and noticing a blood stain at the edge of the vent. A closer inspection revealed the print to be a hand, but the blood was too thick to leave identifiable fingerprints.

“So, the Imposter used the vent to travel here. And the only people who wouldn’t be out of place...”, Roman uttered under his breath. Janus could already hear him and his twin jumping to conclusions.

“Ah yes, jumping to conclusions is always the right answer, without exception.”

Janus hoped his sarcasm got through to them how bad of an idea it was.

“But Jan, look at this shit!”, Remus gestured between the vent and the area next door where Logan’s body was still lying, “There’s blood in the vent and the two fuckers who were in here are stuck with Virgil and the body!! For all we know, we could go back and two of ‘em could be dead-!”

“Alright, alright!”, Janus massaged his temples, thinking it over. 

“... Fine, Remus, call the emergency meeting.”

Without hesitation, Remus made a beeline for the cafeteria’s emergency button. As Janus waited for the teleporter to pick them up, he noticed Roman anxiously running a hand through his hair. “Nervous?”, Janus questioned with a sincerity reserved for tense situations like these.

The red-clad crewmate hummed worriedly, “Just… the thought of Virgil being left with them...”

Janus gave a fond but tired huff, about to reassure Roman when the teleporters built into their suits shifted them to the cafeteria. Thankfully, there didn’t seem to be anyone missing bar Logan, and the previously deceased Dr. Picani. Letting his mismatched eyes roam over towards the trio from security, Dee noticed that each was in a state of shock. Remy seemed to be keeping a stoic mask up but Janus knew those tremors in his palms that came from his reliance on caffeine, one he had been unable to indulge in as desired due to the rationing of supplies. Virgil gnawed his thumbnail while his arm jittered anxiously, probably aching for his anxiety medication more than ever. And Patton….

Patton looked devastated, emotionally and physically so. It was clear he’d been yanking on his hair in distress, and while it wasn’t immediately noticeable, his olivine cheeks bore tear tracks still. 

Janus found himself hoping, praying almost, that Patton could save his skin somehow.

“We found blood in the medbay vent,”, Roman began, snapping Janus out of his thoughts and back to reality. “Which means the Imposter must be Remy or Patton.”

Once kind green eyes tainted with distrust and distress fell on the poor cyan crewmate, “And considering everything up til now…. Patton, I hate to say it…. But you’re-”

“You’re looking pretty fucking sus, Padre!”, Remus finished for his twin. 

Janus could see Patton jolt, the hurt in his features at a once friendly nickname being used so callously felt far too cruel. The yellow crewmate prided himself on being able to see through a rouse, and Patton didn’t show any such signs of deceit, but…

“I-!! I’d never-!!”, Pat gasped, the pain clear, “I could never hurt Logan!! Or Emile, or ANY of you!! Please, I-!”

“Give it up, Pat, you alien bitch.”

Remy’s voice laden with venom and a notable shakiness cut through the words trying to scramble out of Patton’s mouth. “Like, it has to be you. You were in charge of the airlock. You were close enough to them to get at L and Emile. Worst of all, you were the only other person in medbay with me.”, Remy wrung his hands into his black jumpsuit frustratedly, “And when the lights came back on…. You weren’t in the room anymore!”

Patton shook his head, “No, Remy, I-!! I was in the hallway, I couldn’t see you-!”

“Popstar, come on...”, Virgil’s shaky voice came from across the table, “I… I don’t wanna believe it, but we… we have to face the facts here. Logan’s body didn’t show signs of a struggle, so he was probably comfortable with whoever did this. You fit that bill…. You even ran straight to Logan’s body, Pat!! Do you have any idea how suspicious that looks?!”

It all made sense, so much sense, but Janus’ brain still told him it was wrong. That something wasn’t right. 

“But!! But Logan liked being in security!! We all knew that-!!”

“But that still doesn’t explain any of the other evidence!!”, Remus chipped in, looking ready to condemn the poor man. Frantically, Patton looked to Janus. God, he’d never forget that look, the primal fear of death lingering behind terrified light blue. “Janus, please, you know I’m not lying, right?!”

What could Janus do but nod? He believed Patton. It wouldn’t do anything in the long run, but at least the poor man would know someone was on his side.

“I do believe you, Patton. This feels far too ludicrous to-” 

“Jan, you’re a fucking idiot if you believe that bullshit!”, Remus interrupted, “He’s just trying to manipulate you!!”

The conversation abruptly halted as Remus rounded the table, grabbing Patton’s arm, beginning to haul him towards the airlock. The cyan crewmate tried to protest, wriggling to free himself, but Roman and Remy both secured him, sealing his fate,

“PLEASE, PLEASE DON’T DO THIS-!!”

“Just stop, Pat, don’t make this-!”

“NO, LET ME GO, PLEASE, IT’S NOT ME, I SWEAR-!!”

“Shut up, you parasite bastard!!”

Patton struggled for his life against the twins’ strong hold while Remy readied the airlock’s inner door. Janus couldn’t bear to watch, “This is a mistake, you’re going to kill an innocent man, Roman-!”

“Stop, Janus!”, Roman snapped, “We… We can’t afford to turn a blind eye or more of us will die! It’s-! It’s the right thing to do-!”

“You know that’s a lie, do I even need to spell that one out for you-”

“Babes, with all do respect?”, Remy spoke up, opening the inner door and letting the twins toss Patton inside before shutting the door, “Shut the fuck up. Like, this is our chance to stop all this!”

The countdown as Remus set the airlock to open was harrowing, even for the demented twin. The group watched through the reinforced glass window as Patton slammed his fists into the door, his voice silenced by the sound proofing, but his desperation was so palpable no words were needed. For God’s sakes, a man was begging for his life! How could they let this happen? Janus felt Virgil turn away next to him, clearly unable to watch one of their closest friends die.

A surge of righteous justice threw Janus into action. Despite the alarmed voices of the others, he tried desperately to somehow undo the countdown. To somehow get the stupid control panel to cease the damned timer ticking away til Patton would meet his end in the vast nothingness of space. His efforts were for naught. Between the safety programming and the others prying him away, Janus was hauled back just in time to see the outer door open. The force tore Patton into the terrifying cosmic wasteland. 

Just like that, the crew lost Patton Hart. 

Janus felt his ears ring in the sudden silence, feeling like his head had been submerged in ice water. He could hear Virgil sobbing, muffled by what he assumed would be Roman’s shoulder or chest. In his peripheral view, he noted Remus’ green gloved hand clench and release in an effort to calm his nerves, surely. Remy sunk to his knees, not uttering a word edgeways. Human nature would kick in eventually, tell them in the end that they did what they could. That they’d eliminated a threat that took the form of their dear crewmate. But Janus knew. He knew this wasn’t the end, he’d just failed to save Patton’s life. 

Days passed; just two but to Janus and the others, it felt more like two centuries. They’d given Logan’s remains a decent cremation, using the ashes to mix with the plant food in O2. Logan had always wanted to help the planet, and now at least, in a way, he would do just that.

The schedules he’d set the others slowly crumbled. Remy avoided the med bay, “too many awful memories”, he’d said. The twins stuck together more so out of a shared lingering guilt, Janus theorised, still going about their manual tasks, though neither could bring themselves to sing a cheery tune or R-rated space sea shanty about banging an Eldritch Deity. Life aboard the Skeld felt as dead as their former crewmates these days.

Virgil caught up with Janus leaving Navigation; the anxious man had felt far more at ease sticking with his assigned duo partner than being alone. Janus couldn’t fault him. 

“... It’s fucked.”, the lankier man in purple had mumbled, “This whole situation is so, so fucked...”

Janus sighed exhaustedly, “That’s one way to put it, yes.”

The silence was uncomfortable. Neither man usually minded such a thing, but it felt unbearable now. So much so, Janus was thankful as Virgil spoke, “Why’d Dr. Picani have to die?...”.

Both of them were aware of why, but Janus assumed it was rhetorical, a theory confirmed as Virgil continued to mumble, “He was so nice, man. Never pressured me with my medical anxiety or anything, never made me sit through tests that’d freak me out. Helped make me feel secure but... Now nothing feels safe anymore...”

“Indeed, we lost a good man. Several good men.”, Janus felt Virgil cringe beside him, looking away.

“...... I didn’t….”, Virgil huffed, his eyes trained anywhere else but Janus’ face, “I never wanted to… to see Pat like that. He was my friend, Jan! Shit, he was like a father to me! He made me feel welcome when I transferred here but-!!”

A reassuring yellow gloved hand rested on Virgil’s shoulder, “I’m sure he knew, Virgil.”, Janus reassured him, “What’s done is, regrettably, done. Irreversible. We cannot get back those we’ve lost, but we can survive in their name. Let’s just hope that you were all right to stop me-”

Crunch.

The wet crisp crunch of something organic tore Janus from his thoughts. 

“... Did you hear that, Virgil?”

Frozen rigid, Virgil gave a shaky inhale, “I… I don’t think so-”

CRUNCH.

Janus didn’t bother to ask if Virgil heard it that time. He took off down the hallway, headed for the nearest room; Electrical. Virgil’s footsteps began to gain on his own, giving him the reassurance of backup when they reached the doorway. Damn. It was locked. The disgusting wet tearing sounds from inside made his stomach churn, “Virgil… on three.”

Virgil looked mortified at the idea, but he nodded, readying himself as he and Janus got ready to break in the doors. Thankfully for their shoulder joints, the doors opened. Not so thankfully, both men were treated to a horrendous sight. 

The twins had always playfully argued over which of them would come out on top.

It seemed now they had their answer.

Hunched over the remains of his brother was Roman Prince, his red suit absorbing the bloody remains splattered across it, leaving almost no trace. In his hands, Roman held various chunks of flesh torn from his own kin whose lifeless eyes were open wide in a twisted expression of surprise and betrayal. Roman himself had gone rigid, caught like a deer in the headlights, pitch black eyes darting between Janus and Virgil as they sunk back to their familiar emerald green.

“I-! This isn’t-!”

With Virgil unmoving beside him, Janus sprung to action, using their reporting device to activate the teleporter again. He cursed every extra second it took compared to the emergency button, watching as Roman managed to morph and clean himself up before they found themselves once again around the table. Remy’s eyes darted to the empty space Remus had once occupied, 

“.... No. Don’t you fucking tell me...” 

Virgil went to speak but Janus got there first, pointing a deadly determined finger towards Roman, “Roman’s the Imposter!”

Roman stiffened, “Wha-!?”

Janus wasn’t about to let him go free; he had a witness now, and a good chunk of evidence to condemn him with; “Virgil and I walked in on you eating your own goddamn twin! Everything else begins to make sense if it’s you too; the blackout especially, since you were working in electrical. You were also rather vocal with your accusations too, which would make sense considering it took the attention off of you!”

The defeated look in Roman’s dull eyes was the most delicious dessert in existence, seeing the monster look ready to confess, Janus gestured to Virgil, 

“Virgil can back me up, right?!”

Silence.

“.....Virgil? Back me up here-”

“Janus,”, Virgil’s voice was ghostly fearful, his eyes hidden behind the long purple dyed bangs he sported, “Stop lying.”

“.... What?..”, the shiver of fear, bone chilling fear, that rattled through Janus’ marrow and constricted his lungs was a harsh turn from his formerly confident demeanor.

“Roman and I saw you eat Remus, Jan...”

This wasn’t happening.

“We walked in on you tear… tearing him to shreds in electrical…!”

This wasn’t happening…

“Just like you did with poor Logan! And Emile!”

This couldn’t be happening…

“Playing like you were the one who wanted to save Patton when…!! When you were the one who-!!”

Janus’ head swam with nausea. His mismatched eyes finally locked on to Virgil’s, barely visible to Remy, but all too familiar to Janus…

“Disgusting, lying Imposters like you-!!”

Those pitch black eyes that betrayed his glee even as his broken tone relayed the false narrative. 

“Should rot in space!!”

Remy cast his gaze between Roman and Janus, landing on Roman, “Ro, babes, is that true?!”

Roman nodded, dumbfounded, “I-It’s true, he-”

“He tried to get us too,”, Virgil continued, faux shaky voice ringing in Janus’ ears.

Everything made terrifying sense now. 

Virgil, a new transfer from a sister ship, who had his own (likely fabricated) medbay scan on hand and who was too anxious to have Dr. Picani perform a second, making the crew think there was just one Imposter.

Virgil, who would think to tell Roman remove the names on the medical files, even if the red crewmate didn’t do a perfect job.

Virgil, who was close with Patton, and had begun to befriend Logan, earning his trust, leaving him one of the few people who Logan wouldn’t suspect approaching him in the dark.

Virgil, who was smart enough to drag Logan’s top half into the vents and leave a handprint in medbay to frame Patton further. All too willing to throw the poor man under the bus.

Virgil, who stuck close to the only person left smart enough to suspect their scheme, waiting for the right moment to strike when Janus sealed his own fate.

“..... You son of a bitch.”, Janus breathed in disbelief. His anger bubbled to the surface before he could stop it, “YOU SON OF A BITCH-!!!”

Roman and Remy’s arms wrapped themselves around Janus’ arms and body, holding him still while all he could do was writhe, “What do we do now, babes?”

Virgil answered Remy’s question with a firm, faux anxious reply, “The airlock..”

Janus’ heart stopped in his chest.

“We… We had to lose Patton that way so…. So it’s only fair the REAL Imposter goes that way too!!”

He didn’t go without a fight. Janus made damn sure of that. The alien bastards wouldn’t get the satisfaction of him going quietly. He clawed at Roman’s face, ignoring the parasite’s tightening grip on his arm to the point he thought perhaps it would break. He spat hellfire and vitriol at Virgil who watched from a distance, content to let the smirk he’d been hiding show now that Remy couldn’t see. 

Oh god, Remy. Janus tried desperately to appeal to the last true human left, 

“Remy, you HAVE to listen to me, they’re not human, both of them are-!”

But Remy didn’t listen, following Roman’s lead of tossing Janus once more into the airlock. Fortunately, Janus had been able to hold onto his helmet as the door closed, sealing his - and by extension, Remy’s - fates. Trapped and waiting for death, he locked eyes with Remy who looked as sincere and guilt ridden as expected. Is this how Patton felt? So helpless and scared to die? Janus felt almost guilty knowing his suit still had a full canister of oxygen left to last him…. Hours? Maybe a day? Then he’d be at the mercy of space the way Patton was without his helmet to protect him. 

As the countdown reached 15 seconds, Janus watched helplessly as Virgil gestured to give Remy a hug. The way Remy accepted the arms of death only for Virgil’s stomach to split and devour the poor man tore the last of Janus’ resolve to shreds. 

With the countdown reaching zero, Janus Dolion faced the two Imposters watching him with a smug sense of glee, flipping them both the double bird as the outer door opened... 

--

The Imposter couple watched Janus be sucked into the vacuum of space with a sick sense of victory. They’d done it; the Skeld was theirs and theirs alone. Of course, that was until a rescue ship could come for them and the cycle would start over again. The thought alone was intoxicating.

“... I’m sorry.”, Roman murmured from beside Virgil who’d already taken to fabricating injuries they could use to trick the rescue party. The purple suited alien snorted, wiping the last of Remy’s blood from his mouth, “What for, Prince Parasite?”

The crimson clad Imposter scoffed affectionately. 

“I nearly got us caught.”, Roman’s suit growled, “I was just… so hungry…!”

Virgil softly wrapped his arm around Roman, gently caressing his beautiful jawline with a softness no hostile alien parasite should be able to use. 

“It’s fine, you drama queen. We still did it,”, he grinned, shark toothed and infectious going by Roman’s own razor smile, ��Now you just have to put those impressive acting skills to use once I call in a rescue ship.”

“Aww, you think my acting is impressive?”, Roman’s chest puffed up in pride.

Were they not standing right next to a pile of gore that has once been a fellow crewmate, Virgil figured the starry look in Roman’s blackened eyes would have been endearing. Adorable even. Instead, the Imposter rolled his eyes, they still had work to do after all. There’d be plenty of time to properly celebrate later..

“Shut up, Roman... ” --

Man that got dark fast...

I hope you guys still enjoyed it and that the reveal was nice and shocking~!

If you like this, I’ll write some supplimentary stuff, perhaps some fluff prequel snippets, and perhaps a little sequel? 

Idk yet, but I hope this was a good read.

Taglist: @somehow-i-got-an-account   @cateye-glasses   @fandomsofrandom @patton-cake @does-this-look-logicality-to-you @justalittlecorrupted @irritating-lady-knight @katlikethesword @ali_is_lazy 

[fatefulfaerie]

Memory

Link couldn’t see any of the castle from where he sat, his feet dangling over the ledge of the large rock and his hands planted behind him in his comfortable lounge. From Tarrey Town, the Akkala Citadel Ruins and descending sharp peaks and valleys of Death Mountain’s lower sections covered up the castle in its entirety.

In places such as this, it was easy for Link to forget his responsibility, at least for the moment. But for the blue Sheikah tower rising above the citadel and Vah Rudania’s red stream of light aimed at an angle towards a castle he couldn’t see, it was places like this that surely allowed the people of Hyrule to forget about what Daruk called “that swirling swine”.

There was a peace and a resounding apathy they had that he simply couldn’t submit to. After all, a hundred years was a long time. People had survived the Calamity, had given life to children and grandchildren in a world Link saw as ruined. This was their normal, as thus Hyrule was, for the most part, complacent.

But he couldn’t be.

As relaxing as the sunset was upon Akkala, he couldn’t rest within it. Call it his inner courage, that pushed him into battle with a confidence unbefitting of an amnesia-ridden warrior. Call it his sense of justice, that looked at Hyrule and its state of ruin and felt pulled to correct it by some instinct he couldn’t explain. Call it something else entirely, something that burned and ached within him whenever he heard her voice or saw her face.

Link was restless in a world that rested upon chaos, and there were so many reasons to explain why.

“I was wondering where you wandered off to.”

Link looked behind him, his eyes following Hudson as he sat next to him. It wasn’t long after Hudson settled that Link’s gaze went back to the sunset.

“I wanted to thank you,” Hudson started. “For everything you did to bring this town together, for even introducing me to my wife because of that. Really, I can’t thank you enough. You really are amazing.”

Link shook his head as he looked out at the distance.

“You’d be surprised,” he muttered.

“Maybe,” Hudson said with a slight chuckle. “But I do know that it’s hard to find someone in Hyrule who will drop everything for someone else. It’s an admirable trait, and so is your humility.”

Link took a pause. He was in this conversation now, whether he wanted to be or not. And he could tell from his tone of voice that Hudson wanted from him what Link knew he could do the least.

Explain himself. And make conversation.

“I think I just…” He tried before exhaling a breath. “...needed some busy work...I’m nervous about something.”

Hudson nodded.

“That was me this morning,” he said. “Before the nuptials I was so nervous. I needed to make sure every little thing was perfect, prepare myself in every possible way, for every possible circumstance, almost training myself to be ready.”

“Seems kind of obsessive,” Link said, knowing he was projecting, knowing that for the past three months he had gone to every shrine, explored every corner of Hyrule, fought any malicious monster that would put up a fight. He was fueled by the pure fear of failing Hyrule again, failing her again.

“How did you get out of it?” Link asked.

“Trusted myself,” he said. “That I was ready, that in a way, I’ve always been ready, that when it comes down to it, there’s only so much I can do.”

Link nodded in understanding. It was time. It felt like time. In fact, it had felt that way for a while now. Link had felt the desire to right the wrongs of his failure ever since he first paraglided onto the soil of Hyrule.

And yet the more he ventured through it, the more he learned of his weaknesses, the more he learned of the champions’ death, the destruction of the Hyrule he was supposed to save, his fall at Blatchery Plains, the more he doubted he was worthy of the Princess’ confidence. He could smell the way his blood ached in his nose, he could feel the Princess’ hands as she clutched onto him, the tug on his heart as he inwardly insisted upon staying alive for her, his neck pulling the weight of his head to ensure that if he were to see one last thing before he died, it would be her.

That was his failure, dying at Hyrule’s greatest hour of need, but his recompense for that was surviving, given the opportunity to become stronger by perhaps the goddesses themselves, the opportunity to save her. And thus, his determination to not fail her again consumed him with a near obsession of self-improvement.

“What about you, huh?” Hudson asked, completely interrupting Link’s train of thought. “Got someone special?”

“No...no…” Link said with a bashful chuckle and a bowed head, as if averting his glance from the sunset.

“Oh come on,” Hudson insisted, not believing Link in the slightest. “Strapping young lad like you, there’s got to be someone.”

Green eyes shone in his mind like emeralds in the moonlight, but even brighter was the smile he liked to imagine her wearing, that made his heart burst at the seams. He thought of her blonde hair billowing in the wind as the breeze shifted upon him, rocking his own strands of light brown hair.

“Maybe once, but…” Link said. “We’re kind of...separated.”

“Bad break up?” Hudson asked.

“Something like that,” Link said, trying not to laugh at the fact that he was fairly certain they were never ‘together’ in the first place. They never got the chance. The term ‘separated’ was a bit more literal.

“Do you still love her?” Hudson asked.

Link looked up, looking in the direction of the castle, his blue eyes extending beyond this conversation.

“Yes,” Link said with a piercing vulnerability and a breathlessness, as if it was the first time he said it out loud.

“Then that’s all that matters,” Hudson said. “Go to her and show her your love. I’m sure she’ll take you back in a heartbeat.”

That wasn’t the problem. Well, it was a problem, whether her love for him lasted a hundred years or not, and after that, all that foreign relationship stuff, but that was something to suss out much, much later. The problem now was his readiness to save her and not fail.

“Y-yeah totally,” Link said in reply before out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Hudson standing up.

“I’ll leave you to your pondering,” he said. “I bet Rhondson is looking for me anyway. Don’t be a stranger, okay?”

“Yeah,” Link said, turning his head to force a small smile.

“And be sure to invite us to the wedding,” Hudson said as he walked off. Link didn’t have the energy to correct him, to chase after him and insist upon the ridiculousness of that concept. Technically, they were still only seventeen and Hudson didn’t know he was talking about a princess, or that Link was nervous about something much more perilous.

Link shook his head as his gaze returned to look at the sunset, imagining the castle bathed in that same light behind the citadel.

“Trusting myself,” Link whispered.

He purposefully fell to his back with an exasperated sigh. His fingers interlocked and his hands resting on his forehead.

Could he really do this? Was he really ready to face Calamity Ganon? All this extra time, was he ready earlier? Stressing too much over being perfect? He just needed to win once, to defeat Calamity Ganon once. Maybe it wasn’t about feeling ready, one moment he didn’t know he was waiting for where everything clicks into place. Maybe it was just about getting up the courage to try.

He closed his eyes slowly with his next inhale, searching for the motivation and finding it quickly.

You’re going to be just fine.

Her voice was soft, like an angel as his mind replayed the memory. With what seemed a great effort his glance shifted to her. His head rested on her shoulder and he could feel the love in his heart as he looked at her, but he also felt himself fading.

What he saw of her was always an image that faded, lasting mere seconds. If he had the choice, he could look upon her for thousands of seconds and it still wouldn’t be enough time. He tried to stay here, in this moment, holding on to it for dear life, coaxing himself to focus on her and by sheer willpower ignore his fatal injuries. A breath escaped him quickly after.

Darkness.

Open your eyes.

Link did just that, to an Akkalan sunset, clouds reaching and spreading, like smears of white upon an orange canvas.

He felt his breathing, the one reanimated by the Shrine of Resurrection all those months ago, the way it coupled with the wind and the wild.

To anyone else in Hyrule, this moment would be peaceful and serene, perfect. But when it came down to it, at the end of the day, after all the rigorous training and perfectionism, the worries, the overzealous anxiety about failing at his role…

No matter what he feared, he knew one thing for certain.

He wanted to see her, know her, feel her, love her as more than just a memory.

He wanted her beside him.

[tumblingxelian]

Lie Ren’s Arc, a Mini Essay:

Idle thought on Lie Ren.

A lot of viewers seemed to think that Ren's character arc began and ended with the Nuck Grimm, but I feel that can't be further from the truth, and I'm gonna go into why here:

So, we all know Ren, he mostly played a secondary and or supporting role in the early volumes a JNPR never got that involved in the plot. Most of what we saw was a almost supernaturally chill and slightly awkward but supportive guy who was very skilled but may have lacked the stamina of some of his allies.

Due to never getting closely tied to the plot, we didn't see much beneath the surface because he was mostly dealing with school drama, but then the Fall of Beacon happened and we see him so wounded he can't even stand, stubbornly trying to go save Pyrrha & Jaune anyway, this I feel is a pretty good sign that Ren is not nearly as chill beneath the surface.

Following that, V4 is what gives Ren and to a lesser extent Nora, real time to shine.

We learn about his home and is destruction at the hands of a Grimm.

We learn about his fathers last words of wisdom demanding he take action.

We see that his Semblance let's him hide & suppress Aura & emotions, which puts his supernatural chill into question.

Then when he encounters the Nuck, he unsurprisingly looses his cool entirely, racing in headlong against a Grimm well suited for fighting his style and almost getting himself killed. Its only Nora dragging him back to a near state of calm that stops this and he particpates in a plan that allows him the chance to effectively execute the Grimm that ruined his life.

Now one can talk about the morality of the act both in general and in regards to Grimm until they are blue in the face but I am more interested in his words. Specifically his speech about taking vengeance for the people killed, he notes his parents and then, himself. Or in other words, some part of Ren sees himself as having been effectively killed by this Grimm.

So even ignoring that while vengeance may be cathartic its still no replacement for therapy, the fact that Ren views himself as such, had to be made to calm down and afterwards while more openly affectionate with Nora, never actually talks about, well, any of that, to me shows his story isn't over, so much as it is just beginning.

Things are pretty chill in V5, which is unsurprising given RNJR's segment is thematically tied to the same sense of comfort & complacency that Ozpin previously had at Beacon that he can't see he's lost. Plus why wouldn't he be calm, he slew the monster that took his parents, they are in a literal safe haven, they have skilled and experienced adults provided stability and a plan of action against a dangerous foe, but one he has every reason to think they can defeat, an idea driven home by Ozpin's claim that they would be defeating Salem as he once failed to do.

Then it all starts coming apart at the seems in V6.

They lose half their team, they lose Ozpin and find out that Ozpin was lying about not only Salem being a foe they can defeat in the traditional sense, but even about so much as having a plan to stop her. He's obviously left tense, frustrated and adrift by this, barely even reacting when Jaune assaults Oscar and only seeming to calm when he's providing some kind of support to his allies or engaging in an operation.

Or in other words, the shock from the realization about Salem's immortality was never addressed. Team RWBY had a miniature arc dealing with the dangers of apathy, surrender and hopelessness, Jaune had a meeting with his martyr'ed team mates mother that helped give him closure and resolve, but Ren & Nora didn't get that,but while Nora wears her heart on her sleeve, Ren only reveals his problems when he cannot control himself anymore.

Thus, as it is we have established that Ren is a bubbling pot of emotions beneath the calm and has never really been shown addressing or dealing with this issues. We see that he sometimes struggles to keep up with his allies & will fling himself heedlessly into danger for them even when he can't fight and that on some level he views himself as having died as a child and finally that Ren usually only returns to "normal" when given structure and a goal to work towards.

With all that set up and established, I feel that Ren beginning to embrace Ironwood's hard line, heavy handed approach and (He thinks) emotionally disconnected approach. Why wouldn't he? Ironwood is providing him a goal, steps to accomplish, the sense that he is actually making progress and accomplishing something, all while presenting the image of someone who has everything together, despite much like Ren Ironwood being a mess beneath the surface.

This was further not helped by the fact he and Nora have always clearly communicated very differently, when things are calm this isn't a problem because they generally had no disruptions in their shared rhythm. But Salem, Atlas, Ren's trauma, that is throwing everything into wack and its clear they've never really had a problem like this before, and don't know how to resolve it, especially when Ren's default method of dealing with emotional problems is to shut down or hide his feelings while Nora doesn't know any other way to communicate than her own because up until now she's never needed to know Ren's.

Ren is a deeply wounded young man who I don't feel has ever tried to deal with his trauma or learn to manage his emotions in a more healthy way; he wants to protect those he loves and feel like he's actually doing something worthwhile with a life he doesn't wholly feel is his own and Atlas provided all of that to him when he was near his lowest point.

Now with all of them declared enemy's of the state, the Relic lost and Salem at their doorstep, I think Ren is going to have entered a new stage in his character arc and development.

[burnedbyshoto]

Four Times Dabi Wanted You; The One Time He Got You

Kinktober Day 2 ~ kink: sexual frustration

pairing: dabi x fem!reader

warnings: smut, cussing

word count: 6,514

a/n: day twoooo!!!!!! this one is by far my fav... again its only the second one Ive written so....yeAH LMAO!!!!!!! I am so hot for dabi its not even funny anymore!!! please enjoy >:)

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

Four

Dabi pants as he pulls the lip of his water bottle away from him. He wipes his hand against his mouth. Cooling down his burning skin and drying his mouth. With the league’s increasing popularity, he had to start training with the others. Defeat was no longer allowed by Shigaraki, and defeat was not something they wished for.

Dabi's quirk was powerful, there was no denying that! The issue arose with the way it was burning him out from the inside out. So there was only so much he could do without turning into a crisp.

Dabi didn't mind that much as long as he could continue training with you. His eyes locked on you from a distance.

You pulled your arms over your head, and your head is rolling in circles. You’re cooling down.

Five weeks ago you had shown up, a new recruit found by none other than Sako. You had seemed innocent enough, someone Dabi definitely would have never recruited himself. You were so benign seeming, too bland. You had a vivacious smile and stargazing expression. Those traits further solidified the idea you were in over your head. That was until he observed you in action.

Your quirk was horrifying, to say the least. Called Fission and Fusion, you were able to split living cells apart and put them together. It was terrifying the way you had sent Spinners' arms and legs flying away. The single-action sent entire league ready to both to unite you onto their lineup, and of course, kill you. Your laughter was sweet, your head bowing in apology as you retrieved Spinner's limbs. You reattached it with a smile, soon pointing out the lack of blood everywhere.

There was also no denying that you were attractive, hell, the entire league had a thing for you. Dabi, however, was the most adamant in denying his attraction to you. Even as most of their feelings for you faded, Dabi’s remained strong. As if it was there with a vengeance. He obsessed over you but never once let you in on that secret.

The smug bastard, Sato, was the League’s hero--oh the irony. All because he found a recruit they could use as a healer and a fighter. It was soon discovered that there was a major limitation to your quirk. First, you couldn’t use it on yourself, and second, burns weren’t something you could quite fix.

For the most part, your quirk didn’t help much with Dabi’s overexertion of his own quirk. You would, of course, try your best. Your fingers trailing his purple scars as your fingertip glowed. Dabi always felt a bit better after those touches, but it didn’t ever stop the burning sensation under his skin. He was grateful, it still helped.

His eyes continued to gaze at your closed eyes. Your arms circling in front of you, and Dabi watched as your breasts squeeze because of those actions. He watches the sweat from your face roll down your neck and into your cleavage. The trail of sweat disappears, and he takes a few slow blinks. It was almost like it was teasing him, and he blinked again. He feels a strange arousal at the sight of your glistening cleavage. Shaking it off, his eyes travel back up to your face.

You were looking at him, an amused grin on your face as you saunter over.

“You need some help there?” You ask, a smirk on your face as Dabi shrugs his shoulders.

“Go wild.” He replies sticking out his arm for you. Dabi won't give you the satisfaction of your perverted question. You plop down on the floor beside him, your warm fingers touching his burnt skin.

You trail your fingers up and down his smoke smelling arms, and Dabi relishes in the warmth of your hands.

“What were you staring at earlier?” You tease as you grab his right arm. Although nowhere near as used as his left arm, his right arm was equal in burns.

Dabi shrugs, leaning onto his left arm, his eyes flicker over to the view he has of your cleavage. “I had zoned out.”

You clicked your tongue, but you drop it as your fingers heal over the few cuts he has on his chest.

“You’ve been improving though,” Dabi states, catching you off guard by the looks of it. “You’ve improved a lot over the last five weeks.”

A laugh vibrates through your throat, as you pull away, your hands pressing onto your lap. “I did go from sorta being able to kick your ass, to completely kicking your ass.” You agree and the smile on your face has never once withering.

“You only won the first time because I was caught off guard,” Dabi retorts. His blue eyes rolling as he runs a hand through his sweaty locks.

“You’re not the type to underestimate anyone, Dabi!” You cackle and Dabi once again looks you over. Were you always this damn hot?

“I wasn’t underestimating you,” Dabi disagrees, a smirk coming to his face. Dabi stares at you as he now craves a new expression on your face. He stares at you with hooded eyes and your smile waivers. “Do you want to know the truth?”

There’s a pregnant pause, but you soon nod, your eyes sealing over with the decision.

“It’s because you’re hot to look at,” Dabi admits. A victorious smirk comes over his features at the blush that stains your cheeks. Your mouth opens to respond, but Dabi’s closing in on you for some reason. His eyes hooded, and you find yourself compelled by some outside force as you try to meet him halfway.

Something knocks into you at full force, and you’re on the ground as Toga straddles you grinning atop of your waist.

“Y/l/n-chan!” Toga giggles as she hides her face behind the sleeves of her schoolgirl uniform. “I’ve been waiting for you to finish with Dabi for so long now! I have so many cute people I need to show you!”

Dabi exhales as he watches the two of you discuss the plans you had in store. Dabi can only watch as you flash an apologetic smile and leave.

He watches you run away with Toga, a bright smile back on your face, and an unknown feeling sits heavy in his gut.

Thinking about it, Dabi ponders as he tries to figure out what he is feeling right now. It takes a moment, but as he thinks back to the way your fingers touch his arm. The way he had tried to kiss you made his stomach squeeze. Oh, no.

Dabi wanted you.

This day was not the last one like this to happen, nor was it the first. Only now it happened to be the first time he had noticed how fucking hot you were.

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

Three

~ Two Months Later ~

Recruiting was the best and worst thing Dabi did for the league.

He wasn’t going to lie. There was something so glorious and wonderful about killing these men. Men who thought they were better than everyone else. He loved the way they would scream for mercy while dying in front of him.

What he didn’t like were the initial conversations. The begrudged talks he had to have before he decided to kill them. Only so that he could tell Shigaraki that he did his job “correct” and perfect. Yet lately, it seemed that no one believed Dabi when he said he talked to the groups of potential followers. They weren’t wrong to believe that, but it still annoyed Dabi to see that you were waiting for him this morning.

There you stood with your given upgrades to your costume. You played a game on your phone as Dabi walked down the hallway. Your eyes locked on his, and there was a smile on your face. Dabi hated you, or so that’s what he kept telling himself. He hated your smile especially because it made his stomach flip, and there was no reason for that. He walked right past you, his hands shoved in his pockets, and groaned under his breath when you followed him out.

So Dabi now stood by the entrance of an alleyway, and you were three steps to his right.

Your damn outfit was attention capturing. The fitted suit highlighted every single damn curve you had. You had garnered the attention of the masses of people waiting for the two of you, so Dabi wanted to kill them. Who the fuck did they think they were staring at his girl--no, you.

The look on your face was one of complacency. You flirted back with every single catcall, your eyes holding a mysterious glint as you did so. Hell, Dabi watched on as you stood next to one of the men, your lips by his ear, and his entire face flushed red. The man went to grab your waist to pull you closer, but you were three steps ahead. You were already walking back towards Dabi.

There was no doubt in Dabi’s mind that none of them deserved to join. They had an interest in you, not the group's movement! So when you pressed a hand to his shoulder, Dabi feared the worst as he bent down for you.

Your lips brushed against the shell of his ear stirred something from within him. The hot flow of air further increasing his heightened need for you. But it was the words that left your lips that sealed the last nail in his coffin.

“Kill them all.”

Dabi smirked his eyes locking on your bright eyes. The brightness was sadistic, very hidden under the brightness of your energy. He growled lowly, his lust increasing by tenfold, and all while staring into your eyes, he shot his left hand out.

Blue flames illuminated the alleyway in a blink of an eye. The shrieks and screams made the two of you gaze at the burning bodies in silence.

“I didn’t think you had it in you,” Dabi says after the last shrieks end. You glance up at him, a giggle leaving your lips.

“Because I’m super innocent?” You ask, your bottom lip captured between your teeth. Dabi wants nothing more than to slam his mouth on yours and bite down on that lip. To hear your pant his name while the bodies crumbled into dust beside you. “I’m not as innocent as you think me to be.”

The tone seems innocent enough, but the look on your face makes Dabi stop a groan from leaving his mouth. It’s sinister, yet overwhelming and hot, and he feels himself growing in his pants. So, he takes a step towards you, and he delights in the fact you stand your ground. “I would agree but you’re as innocent as I know you to be.” Dabi counters.

A lazy grin stapled onto his face. Your eyes swimming with a bunch of emotions Dabi can’t pinpoint. “You’re a great fighter, don’t get me wrong.” He takes another step, his eyes now blazing into yours. A triumphant smirk lacing his face as you step back. “But, you don’t seem like a killer.”

Another step backward. “After all, princess, you did command me to kill them all. You could’ve taken them without a sweat.”

He has you pressed against the alleyway walls. The cold brick digging into your backside, as you stare at Dabi, your mouth opened ever so slightly.

It seems, though, you may have guessed exactly what Dabi was feeling because your eyes sparkle. A smile graces your face against as you look at him through your heavy lashes. “I just think it’s hot when a man does my job for me.”

Dabi chuckles, his hands pressing on the sides of your head. “I think I can deal with that.” He whispers, leaning into your face wanting nothing more than to make you his right here, right now.

Your eyes don’t close even as he draws nearer, the look of defiance making his cock twitch in anticipation. But a phone rings in his pocket right before he can press his mouth to yours.

Dabi groans, the spell over the two of you broken as he takes out his phone. Putting it to his ear.

“What?” He almost growls.

“Did you find anyone? I sent y/n with you so that there could be one potential coming back.” Shigaraki’s voice questions, his tone annoyed and hopeful.

“They were all terrible, y/n thought so, too.” Dabi sighs rubbing his face, and he glances over at you, who merely shrugs.

Now Dabi had a boner to deal with, and a certain girl would not be readily available to help him.

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

Two

~ One Week Later ~

Dabi walked to the bathroom. He frowned when he figured out that it was not free, and he trained his ears a bit. The shower was on. Sighing, he turned and walked to the much further bathroom in their house.

He peed and went down to the living room. The living room is small, with only a couch and a few individual chairs. The floor was also more comfortable than some of these chairs! In fact, there were more people on that floor than in a seat. Everyone had gathered tonight because they decided they all wanted to “bond.” So Toga and you had suggested a movie night, and much to Dabi’s annoyance everyone agreed. He sat down on the couch, grateful that everyone else was on the floor or on chairs. Dabi scanned the room, looking to see who wasn’t there.

Everyone was there except--

“Where’s Y/n?” Sako asked, his eyes darting around. Dabi rolled his eyes as he slouched on the couch. Of course, it was you in the shower.

“In the shower!” Toga chirped. “She came back all bloody and cute, but she wanted to get it all off…”

“Ew blood is disgusting!” Twice yelled, “I LOVE IT!”

Dabi groaned as everyone began bickering. They argued if the blood of one’s enemies on you was hot. Dabi had to agree though, it was hot. He didn't join in on the conversation though.

“Sorry!” You chirped from the entranceway, and everyone cheered at finally being able to get the movie on the roll. Dabi felt the couch shift from beside him, and you hopped onto the stiff cushion beside him.

Dabi glances over at you and immediately regretted doing so. You were wearing an oversized sweater that fell to your mid-thigh. Dabi could not keep his eyes away from you, his eyes trailing down your shapely legs. Your animate arms moved as you explained what had happened. But Dabi wasn’t quite paying attention to what you were saying. He only knew that he was damn positive he could smell your citrus and berry shampoo from where he sat. It was not his favorite smell, but on you, it was quick to arouse him.

His eyes fell over the swell of your breast, and he glanced at the logo. He froze. The blood that was rushing through his body frozen as he realized who’s sweatshirt that was.

It was fucking Sako’s sweatshirt! Dabi felt his upper lip curl into a snarl as he shifted back towards the television. Now Dabi was uncaring for the conversation. As the movie finally began, the conversations stopped. Everyone invested in the scenes unfolding before their eyes. Toga had for dumb reason brought back the Lego Movie, and so that was what they were watching.

Why the fuck did you have Sako’s shit? Dabi’s thoughts trailed as he glanced over at you, and you were whispering to Shigaraki.

Rolling his eyes, he thought of you in his own clothes. He was definitely going to burn that sweatshirt off your body once he had you under his body. You would look so pretty with your mouth around his cock. Stunning when your back will arch off the bed. Dabi could see himself pounding into you until you couldn’t do anything but scream his name. Beautiful as you were on all fours, you back arched as he took you from behind, his name a prayer on your tongue.

Dabi inhaled sharply as you brush your hair to the side, and the waft of aroma from your hair hit him at full force. His pants felt tight as he sat there, trying his best not to grab you at this very moment and make you his. He would not care if the others looked or not! Hell, Dabi figured it would be better for them to look as he drilled into you. It would mean no one could question who you belonged to. You belonged to him.

Dabi stilled as you almost appeared at his side. Your hand on his shoulder as you pressed your mouth by his ear, “I wanted to let you know that I can handle myself just fine.”

It takes everything within Dabi to not turn you on your backside and drill you into the couch. Your words are teasing and taunting him. Instead, Dabi grips his thighs and he nods. “Is that what you were doing?”

“That among a few other things.” Your tone is teasing as you shift back to your original position, and Dabi stares at you. It was as if you were doing this on purpose.

The way you had dressed up? You knew that he was possessive of the things he wanted, and to be wearing a sweatshirt he didn’t know you had until now? The outfit was an entire tease. The way that he could only see your hands, neck, and legs. It was as if you wanted to rile him up. Especially with you tossing your hair every three seconds. It was getting harder and harder to ignore you.

So Dabi sat there, his nostrils flaring as the movie continued on. He couldn’t hear the movie anymore. Dabi was hyperaware of the delicious giggles that left your lips. Giggles that paralleled whenever something funny happened in the film. His ears picking up on your voice whenever you talked with Shigaraki. It was pissing him off.

The movie wrapped up without a hitch, and everyone quickly retreated back to their rooms. That is except Dabi and you. Dabi was trying to conceal his hard-on. He did anything to make sure you wouldn’t see because he wasn’t going to give you the benefit of a victory over him. You were cleaning up the few messes people had left behind. You hummed to yourself as you cleaned up the few pieces of popcorn that had hit the floor. Brushing past Dabi with an apology, you bent down in front of him. The action revealed a pair of navy blue booty shorts. Shorts that sent Dabi over the edge in the aspect of his mental strength.

Oblivious to his internal struggle, you walked to the kitchen. You tossed the trash away with a satisfied nod. You finished cleaning up, and you were now ready for bed.

“You’re such a fucking tease,” Dabi’s voice rustles against your neck, and you still. His chest pressed against your shoulders. You can feel his aroused dick pressed against your lower back, and a grin overcomes your features.

You delight in the way his fingers seize your waist, and you can’t keep yourself from rolling your hips. Your ass dragging pleasingly against his crotch. “I have no idea what you’re talking about?” You innocuously state, your hands gripping his pants to keep Dabi close.

“Now, now, love.” Dabi presses his lips to your neck. You groan slightly as the cool metal of his piercings conflict with your warm skin. “I know you’re not an idiot… don’t play dumb.”

You tilt your head to the side, giving him more room on your skin, and you once more roll your hips. He hisses softly against your neck. You laugh as the adrenaline courses through your veins making you giddy. This was something you wanted since day one after all. “I’m no idiot,” You agree, your hand trailing from his legs to clutch his black locks in your fingers. “I just can’t put together what I did to get myself into this situation.”

There’s an almost territorial grown from Dabi, and you've spun around. Your back is now pressed against the counter. You sigh as his warm hands slip underneath the sweatshirt. His fingers pausing at the waistband. “You wear this fucking sweatshirt. You talk to everyone but me all night long. You flip your hair in my direction as if I’m not already hard enough. And then you bend down right in front of me as if I hadn’t mused claiming you on that couch during the movie?”

You let out a moan, his words overwhelming you as he nips at your throat. Unable to keep yourself stagnant anymore, you clutch his face and bring his face to yours.

“Hey-- oh shit! Was I interrupting something?!” Spinners' face is blushing, and the two of you pull apart. Distance put between the two of you as you both stiffen.

“Nothing at all.” Dabi’s voice is too strained, and you watch as he storms off, his fists clenched at his side.

“It’s fine,” You say again with a laugh, Spinners face was almost beet red after all. “He was, what is it… checking up on me.”

“Are you… are you sure?” Spinner chokes his hand covering his eyes, and you walk over and press a kiss to his cheek.

“Don’t worry, honey!” You laugh as you pull away. “Nothing was happening!”

You cackle at his uncomfortable status and leave with a skip in your step. Oh yeah, Dabi was just about to be yours.

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

One

~ The Following Day ~

Dabi was trying not to stare at you.

You were laying on your stomach on the opposite end of his bed. Your ankles crossed as you read the book in your hands.

He didn’t know what was wrong with him, all he knew is that since yesterday, you had been cold. Then again, you never seemed to be in his room ever. You wore a white tank top that showed off your stomach. Paired with black shorts that seemed to be the tiniest bit too tight. It was, to put it simply, too alluring for him. The outfit made Dabi want nothing more than to burn your clothes off and drill into you.

His eyes concentrated on you as you rolled over onto your back. Your hair fanning out around you in a way that Dabi could now envision himself between your legs. Your face flushed, screaming his name. He bit down hard on his tongue to keep himself from thinking about it any further. There was no stopping his thoughts when you shifted your weight. Your back arching as you stretched. A low moan resonating from your mouth as Dabi wheezes slightly.

Your eyes flicker over to him, and a confused look falls over your face as you scrunch your eyebrows. “You okay?” You ask placing the book to the bed.

“Yeah,” Dabi says an easy lie, his hands running through his hair. “Are you?”

“Never been better!” You respond sitting up, and you fix your hair so that it lays on your shoulders. “I do have some questions though?”

Dabi quirks an eyebrow as he nods, letting you know that he’s listening.

“It’s about yesterday,” You breeze, adjusting your top, and his eyes flicker down to the swell of your breasts. Dabi feels his mouth running dry, but he nods his head. “I wanted to know how you felt…”

There’s a questionable tone to your voice, but your eyes glimmer. It's that same glimmer from the meeting. It reminds him of a sadistic smile. Even so, Dabi shifts again, “About… about what?”

“The movie, silly!” You say as you fall onto your hands, and Dabi rolls his eyes. Of fucking course.

“It was stupid.”

You tut softly as you shrug, “We’re all entitled to an opinion, even if your opinion is dumb and stupid.”

“Shut up, you’re being annoying.”

“I’m only curious!” You grin and take your book in your hand. “My hands are cold…” You murmur looking at the book. Your eyes snapped up to Dabi, and he felt frozen under your gaze.

“Can I stick them down your pants?”

Dabi licks his lips, a smirk coming over his face as he sits up completely now. “No,” Dabi says with a mocking look.

The look on your face incites something within Dabi. The look is territorial, it's sultry, and it stirs something within him.

“Your belt looks really tight on you…” You lament, and Dabi watches with widening eyes as you’re on all fours now. His eyes struggling to keep themselves from falling to your displayed cleavage. Your teeth bite down onto your bottom lip, “Let me loosen it for you?”

You’re crawling slowly towards Dabi, and he forgets how to speak as your fingers come to graze at his ankles. Dabi’s breathing staggers as you crawl onto his lap, your hips straddling his own. He feels as if he’s choking when you press your breasts flat against his chest, your hot breath hitting his ear. “Can I confess something?” You whisper into his ear.

Dabi exhales a breath he didn’t know he was holding as he nods his head. You’re completely and utterly overwhelming him.

“In my head, we’re already having sex, so my opinion is we should just get it on already.” You confess as your lips press against his neck.

Dabi struggles to breathe as you pull away, your eyes locking on his. “Can I kiss you?” You ask your face leaning in titillating close. “I really want to kiss you.”

Dabi forgets how to say yes as he feels your lips ghost against his own, and his eyes fall closed. He’s waiting for you to press yourself against him completely.

“Aw, you guys are so cute!” A voice interrupts the two of you, and you screech falling off Dabi. “Ugly and disgusting, please never do it again!”

Twice peered his face into the doorway. A smile is heavy in his tone as he giggled at the two of you blushing and heaving like horny teenagers.

“I’m going to leave…” You whisper the energy between the two of you ruined.

“Y/n!” Dabi calls after you. He's angry with the fact that you were leaving and furious at Twice’s giggling expression.

“Sounds like you’re in trouble!” Twice laughs. “Clean yourself up!”

Dabi groans as he falls back onto his bed, why the fuck could he never do what he wanted with you?

Dabi was through. He was sexually-frustrated and now that he knew you wanted him? He was not going to let you slip away again.

He was going to fuck you by the end of the night.

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

One

~ One Hour Later ~

You were in your room. Your hands rummaging through your drawers trying to find a better set of PJs. To be honest, you were sure that you were going to get laid tonight, but Dabi didn’t seem to be all that into it.

After last night, you were sure he would spring at the chance! He had, after all, pressed a raging boner against your back. So, you figured that he would take the opportunity to bed you right then and there. Even when Twice had walked in, you thought he would have fought you to keep you there. That he would clash with Twice for walking in. That he would pin you to the mattress and had his way with your regardless of the fact that you were being watched.

Sighing, you stripped off your clothes. They were especially picked out to stir some sort of reaction from him. It was disappointing that all you got was a blank stare as you slipped under his arm. You slipped on a pair of sweatpants, frowning. You had even worn your favorite pair of black lacy lingerie! But you guessed that there was time for this another day.

You went to grab your shirt that was on your bed, but the door slams open, and you shriek. Your arms moving to cover yourself.

You watch as Dabi closes the door behind him, locking it, and your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Are you--mmph?!”

His mouth is on yours the second you blink. The coolness of the staples in his chin press into your own chin and it sends chills down your spine. A gasp leaves your lips as you grip onto his sleeves, your head tilting to give a better angle for the two of you. His arms shift, and he grasps your ass tightly. You tear your lips away from his, panting heavily as he picks you up.

“You’re such a fucking tease,” Dabi growls into your neck. His hair tickles your cheek, and his smoky aroma fills your senses. You laugh carelessly. You shiver at the feeling of his cold staples pressing into your warm skin, but still, you crave more.

“I’ve been teasing you for months now,” You confess as he tosses you on the bed, his eyes scouring your body. “You’re just an idiot who needed me on your lap to solve that out!”

His tongue runs a circle around your neck, and you shudder, “I think you need to shut up.” Dabi warns.

“Make me, pussy!” You counter and Dabi rolls his eyes. His hands seize your bra covered breasts in his hands, and he chuckles lightly at your whimper.

“I had to suffer twice within the past twenty-four hours...” Dabi drawls out his lips peppering scattered kisses along your chest. “I’m going to fuck you until you cum so fucking hard around my dick...”

The promise in his voice sends your heart pounding, and you tremble as you gaze into his vehement eyes.

“You know, typically when someone says ‘make me,’ you’re supposed to--”

“Would you shut the fuck up?” Dabi snaps, his lips back on yours, and your eyes roll to the back of your eyes at the pressure.

He crawls on top of you, making you crawl backward, your head bumping the headboard of your bed. Dabi still on top of you as you pant. You sit up, your lips still dancing against his own, your hands locking into his thick hair. His lips are intoxicating. Pressing fully on yours. His hands gripping your waist and make you shudder from the strength of the hold.

Your thrust your hips upward, savoring in the fact that you were able to graze up against his pelvis.

“Stop fucking moving!” Dabi hisses against your lips, and you whine as his teeth bite down on your lower lip. You smile, your eyes watching at his lust-filled eyes. You wrap your legs around his waist and grind your hips into his crotch.

You yelp has his hands shove your hips back onto the bed, his mouth pulled back into a snarl, “Don’t fucking test me, baby girl.” He nearly seethes.

“You’re not giving me a reason to not test you!” You groan. You shift restlessly, your arousal getting to you, and yet you were now unable to do anything about it. Dabi’s scarred hand grabs your bra and he chuckles.

“Such a pretty bra,” He utters as your chest heaves. Your mind driving yourself crazy as you longed for him to do something, anything. “Were you wearing it all this time?”

“Nah,” You gasp as his fingers skillfully trace over your hardened nipples. “It was for Sako, I was waiting for him to reply to my ‘are you uP--’!!!” Your banter is harshly stopped as he burns the bra to a crisp. The snarl on his face turning sadistic as you look at him.

Before you could open your mouth to tell him off, the heated cavern of his mouth latches onto your left breast. His tongue lashing out to swipe out your nipples. “Yes,” You crave his touch, even more, and you tug on his on hair. “That feels--aah oh fuck--that feels so good!”

You arch into his mouth, wordless gasps pouring out of your mouth as you clench his thick hair in your hands. His left-hand pinch your free nipple, and you thrash against his hold, his name cried from your lips. His mouth and fingers were unrelenting. His teeth biting down harshly on your perked nipple, and his fingers rolled your other nipple. Pulling on it on occasion until your hips began to buck, desperate for some sort of friction.

His mouth leaves your breast with a fulfilling pop, and you tremble against the mattress. You pant while looking down at your flushed stained breasts. They shone with his saliva, and the cool air intensifying the sensitivity. “You’re pretty when you’re laying underneath me,” Dabi grins, a gleam in his eyes. You gaze at him with heavy-lidded eyes and he looks down, a smirk on his face. “But, you’re terrible at following directions,” Dabi states, victory lacing his eyes as you moan. You’ve never felt needier, and you were hoping he would just get to the point where he was railing you into the mattress.

“Fuck me, please!” You cry as you push his hands down to your needy sex, and you shiver against his fingers.

“I think I’m going to have to teach you a lesson on following rules.” Dabi teases as he slides his hands to your waistband.

“Don’t you dare fucking burn my pants and panties!” You warn as your head tilts backward, Dabi’s mouth pressing open mouth kisses down your neck. The coolness of the staples on his face almost steaming against your scorched skin.

“I’ll get you a new pair.” Dabi snickers as your remaining materials get burned off.

Your eyes widen, words unable to form as he pulls his shirt off his head. The smell of the burning material intermingling with the scent of your arousal, and his own aroma. You sit up and grab his belt, unbuckling it as his thrown shirt reaches the floor. You ignore his movements to get you to lean down as you manage to get his pants down to his knees.

"What are you doing?" Dabi pants. You ignore him as you lick your lips, staring at his awaiting cock.

You grasp his hard dick, and you smirk at his hiss. His dick was large, three large veins bulging out from the side, and your hand almost wrapped around it. You push him onto his ass and lean down, your tongue flicking out to touch the tip of his head. His smell is musty, the pre-cum leaking out of his tip salty and he moans. Your mouth envelopes around him, and he tugs your hair roughly. Your hands run up and down the parts of his cock that weren’t in your mouth. You stared at him, smiling as you slowly took him in until your lips touched the base of his dick. Your head is roughly pulled off, and you don’t know how, but your back's pressed back into the mattress. “I don’t fucking want your damn mouth around me right now,” Dabi grunts, the tip of his cock teasing your own entrance.

“Well fuck me, before I fuck myself and kick you out!” You cry out, your hands grasping onto his shoulders as he grinds further into you.

“I wouldn’t mind that,” Dabi admits, his teeth nipping at your earlobe, and you dig your nails into his hips. “God, you’re fucking wet…”

“Fuck me, already!” You sob and with a satisfied snort, he picks up your leg and rams into you at full length.

Your head throws back, and a soundless scream emerges your lip. Gasps escape your mouth as you clench around his cock. Your breathing unleveled as you adjusted to his size. His damn girth was too much for you to handle, but his hips snapped back and slammed back into you.

“Dabi!” You shriek as your nails scrape down his back. His face buried into your neck, and the hot puffs of air send goosebumps down your body. You’re heaving as his speed increases steadily, your body not entirely adjusted. Despite the pain, you start rolling your hips against his. His hips are merciless, slamming into you over and over. The pained look on your face quickly dissolving into pleasure.

Sharp pants escape his mouth as he places his hands onto the pillow by your head. Your legs wrapping against his hips as you meet his with every thrust. Your arousal intensifies as a burning pressure erupts within you. Your head falling backward as you lacked the energy to keep your head up. “Look at me,” Dabi growls. The pleasure burns through your veins. It almost prohibits you from staring into his cerulean eyes. Your core felt as if it was on fire.

Dabi pushes himself off the mattress, grasping your hips as he continues to slam into you. The new angle is overwhelming, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as your nails dig into his back. Tingles reaching your toes, and you find yourself curling your toes, as he slams into your g-spot.

“DABI!” You screech as he grunts, he angles himself into you in the same way. Ragged groans tumble out of your voice as he slams into your over, and over, and over. The tip of his dick never once missing. “Harder, please! Fuck!”

You choke as his left-hand clutches your throat, and you arch your back off the mattress again. “Fucking shit, you’re so damn tight.” Dabi gasps as his hips circle and slams back into you. The pressure in your core was only increasing as you felt his cock spasm from within you, and you cry. Your neck pushing up against his hand. “Do you need to come?” He asks, a desperate tone to his voice.

The build-up of the pressure was sending you over the edge, and you shoved his hand off your neck as you sit up. Your arms wrap around his neck, your lips pressing tightly against his own as you come hard around his dick. Ragged moans pour out of your mouth as his hips chase your orgasm, approaching his own.

Your pussy continues to spasm around his thrusting cock, your eyes clenched. Dabi’s mouth presses open kisses against you, and he curses your name. You moan as you feel his seed expelling within you, and he gasps. His hips stutter as they try to finish his final movements. Dabi collapses with you in his arms, the two of you panting for air as you lay there. Sweating, panting and kissing each other softly.

You pull away brushing his sweaty hair off his forehead. “I seriously underestimated you,” You chuckle.

“I wanted to do that since day one…” Dabi sighs as he presses a kiss to your mouth.

“You didn’t have it in you!”

“You’re fucking annoying.”

“And yet,” You shift in his arms burying your nose into the crook of his neck. “You still fucked me.”

[melancholic-pigeon]

What the dems are doing is not enough.

however.

In many of these cases, it's not for lack of trying, it's because the other side's method is "hold my breath until I get my way".

The fact that they have passed anything at all in the face of this kind of bullshit obstructionism and government by a tiny minority that has heavily rigged the game in their favor is impressive and we largely have congress to thank for that.

It's not enough, and OH BOY do I have a lot of criticisms about the dems, but please don't forget the context:

"I want ALL OF THE TOYS and ALL OF THE SNACKS for ME"

"They're not your toys or snacks, they're everyone's toys and snacks, and we need to share with the other kids—"

"NO! NO NO NO NO NO! MINE! ALL MINE! I'M GOING TO THROW A MASSIVE TANTRUM, STAMP MY FEET, BREAK ALL THE TOYS, PISS ON ALL THE SNACKS, PUNCH SIX PEOPLE, AND CRY AND COMPLAIN ABOUT HOW MEAN EVERYONE WAS TO ME"

and the more we think they're all the same, the more leftists think there's no point in voting. That's what the Russian psyops took advantage of in 2016. (Yes, that happened, I still have an email with hundreds of blogs I had interacted with in some fashion that tumblr had identified as Russian psyops, many via reblog threads— which meant a lot of my friends fell for it and spread it around too.)

It's super easy to fall for and extremely tempting to do so. I get it. But think about who benefits from trying to get this attitude to take off.

It's fucking mitch and the rest of his slime mold buddies. that's who. If we don't vote, if we sit back and become complacent and play right into his hands, we don't vote them out.

It's next to impossible to vote them out to begin with, because they know that without disenfranchising minority and marginalized voters, they will not win.

Mitch is MASSIVELY unpopular in his home state, and yet he wins reelection every fucking time because he ensured that the only votes that count are the votes for him.

(By the way, the voter restriction laws being passed in multiple states isn't in any way because of federal government. This is why they crow about state's rights so much. This is state government lashing out and attempting to punish their constituents for voting blue.

The only way the president can affect this is through federal law, and the only reason it isn't federal law is because the Republicans are holding covid relief hostage too, and refusing to pass any bill that includes voting rights. The alternative is not passing anything at all. It's not enough, it's nowhere NEAR enough, but just because something is taken out of a bill does not mean they're giving up on it forever.)

I vehemently dislike Biden and I vehemently dislike the fallacy of the extended middle. He was close to the bottom of my list for presidential candidates. But even a magical ideal perfect leftist president would have a very hard time getting almost anything done with mitch holding the senate hostage.

[mbti-notes]

What do you think is the best way to deal with the fear of things getting even more conservative and harsh? I'm so scared about the future, living in a dystopian society and having all my rights taken as a non binary queer person. Infj.

I suppose you’re referring to US politics? Please be more specific because the majority of my readership isn’t from the US. You’re asking a loaded question that basically requires me to agree with the premise that everything will be doomed. I can’t agree with that, since I purposely don’t approach politics in a reactive way.

When you’re drowning in fear, you’re not thinking straight. One of the reasons political discourse has reached the lows that it has in the US is because of incessant screaming and hyperbole. The political mediascape is a for-profit machine that is designed to work people up, manipulate their emotions, and keep them living in fear of “enemies”. This creates the mindset of being in a constant fight for survival against various abstractions of “evil”, and it’s much easier to separate you from your money when you’re so threatened that you’re willing to pay to feel safe/validated. The more that people get sucked into this war mentality, the less capable they are of making wise political decisions, since every important problem gets made into an oversimplified “wedge” issue to test your loyalty to your team. 

The world is a lot more complex than red vs blue. To make a living, I have to follow news from around the world very closely. Yes, people get heated about politics, but observe the political reporting from other countries and you will see a difference in the tone and quality. In some countries, there are, gasp!, more than two viable political parties, and thus, more ideas and approaches to choose from. The US has commodified political fear and outrage like no one else by purposely pitting people against each other like rival sports teams, in a state of perpetual conflict, and, most importantly, always distracted from the underlying power structures that are making their lives worse.

To be clear, I’m not a conservative, though I’ve been surrounded and preached to by conservatives my whole life - I engage with them continuously. I am certainly angered by people being stripped of their rights and opportunities. I am certainly depressed when I see people abused and oppressed. I am certainly frustrated when my life suffers from the decisions of politicians I did not vote for. However, I staunchly defend freedom and diversity of beliefs and values. I often have to remind people that many countries and cultures around the world are conservative, and they are not abject hellscapes. Do not equate conservatism with dystopia, barbarism, fundamentalism, extremism, terrorism, xenophobia, or lord of the flies - it doesn’t matter who is doing it, hyperbole and stereotypes are dehumanizing, which enables the violence of war mentality. Conservatism, at its best, is actually needed by society to function well. Progressivism, at its best, is actually needed by society to function well. Intelligent political discourse begins with each of us getting our facts and concepts correct, otherwise, there’s no hope of cooler heads prevailing. It’s important to correctly identify the cause of a problem by labeling it properly.

Every system has flaws and every system will eventually fall apart when those flaws are left to fester and worsen. The US is supposed to be a democracy, right? A democracy is only ever as smart as the people participating in it. Can you say, with a straight face, that Americans have a deep understanding of their political system and work hard to be well-informed of all the political, economic, social, and international issues that the country grapples with? Can you say that the majority of people even understand the political terminology they use? 

The US is admired around the world for its individualism. Individuals succeed and fail by their own hand. Individuals are free to pursue their own happiness and well-being. “The Land of Opportunity”, right? Americans have exported this idea, drawing immigrants from all around the world. However, individualism, taken to an extreme, exacts a very steep price. The bonds which hold individuals together to form a well-functioning society gradually weaken over time. This is a huge problem if you hope to make good collective decisions, which is what elected officials are tasked to do.

The language and currency of politics is power. With power, you get to write the rules. Without power, you are subject to someone else’s rules. It’s really that simple and crass. The purpose of there being many different voices in a discussion is to make sure that no 1 agenda/group gets to dominate the discussion and become too extreme. Opportunists, corporations, and media companies figured this out a long time ago, so they do what they can to shut down nuanced debate and discussion. They all have a deep vested interest in hyping up the individualist ethos of American culture, not because they actually care about “culture” in any noble sense, but because they know that individuals have very limited power. One person alone cannot disrupt the status quo, and keeping everyone psychologically isolated means that those with power can keep enriching themselves without disruption.

Currently, almost every major aspect of American society is designed to stop you from realizing and using your power. Media keeps you locked in fear, feeling victimized, demonizing each other. Big corporate interests keep you hyperfocused on your own emotional vulnerabilities, telling you to earn and consume your way to a false sense of power, as they quietly dismantle workplace and social supports that would preserve your actual power. The prevailing social mandate to be ever productive and “successful” keeps you running like a hamster on a wheel, with little energy to spare for anything else. You are expected, at adulthood, to become a self-made person, never having to rely on anyone for anything, thereby eroding your ties to your roots and kin. If you fail, you are shamed and dubbed a loser, and expected to redouble your efforts to chase higher social status. And some people simply choose to drop out completely, thus relinquishing any social power they had.

In US society, those in power abuse the archetype of the “individual” and the virtue of “independence” to siphon more and more power. Individualism, in its most immature form, is really just self-centeredness. Everyone is only out for themselves and grabbing what they can before someone else does. People fight each other for scraps. And the ultimate goal of life is to have more than the people around you, such that you have the power and privilege to shield yourself from the other hungry dogs. There is no bigger picture to aspire to beyond one’s own survival and daily pleasures. If this is the underlying ethos of your society, are you surprised that the political system reflects it? A lot of people around the world look at the US and mostly see a bunch of immature adolescents. 

Transcending social forces isn’t easy. Power is always unevenly distributed, so it is always ripe for abuse, and fighting against abuses of power requires sustained effort. Therefore, it’s important to understand the many ways that power is used to oppress. I’ve spent a lot of time studying historical movements, political philosophy, and power dynamics, so my view of politics is always the long view. I believe that political progress is constant work. I don’t believe in end goals or being free to rest on your laurels. I believe history teaches us that, whatever your political allegiances, the complacent eventually become the victims. I believe that social change is relatively easy to understand by observing the way that power changes hands in society. 

Politics boils down to an endless series of change-and-backlash sequences. Whenever one group takes a significant political step, someone somewhere will lose out on some power and privilege, and they’re not going to take it lying down. Fear and anger drive the changes, and fear and anger drive the backlashes. Rinse and repeat. When the tide turns against you, it only means that it’s your turn to step up again. Fear and anger are not reasons to give up, rather, they are the wake up call that spurs the next round of changes. From conflict comes motivation.

Political power is gained through organization. The fastest way to accumulate power, especially in a democracy, is to stand together and pool your resources. But what is the motivation for organizing? Usually anger. Civil rights are never won by waiting around for the privileged to relinquish their power. No, people get together to claim their rights, DEMAND change, and MAKE the changes that they want to see, refusing to surrender to oppression. They loudly infiltrate social spaces, influence officials, run for office as representatives, and accumulate the political power to rewrite the rules. This is true whatever your political stripe. This is what conservatives have excelled at for the past thirty years in the US. 

However, as soon as you change the status quo, there will always be people that want to reverse it. It is difficult for younger people to grasp, but politics has no end, it is merely an ongoing struggle for power, as power changes hands from the complacent to the aggrieved, and then back again. For example, LGBTQ people view a right-dominated supreme court as a danger to their existence, for good reason, and that should motivate them to fight back even harder to reclaim their right to equality. Conservatives view a right-dominated supreme court as progress, and having achieved that success, they will become complacent, which provides the opening for progressives to regroup and rise again. 

The only escape from this cycle comes in the form of death or transcendence. To transcend means to see the bigger picture of what can be achieved, so that you are able to set aside the petty and work for something greater. Human beings have had their transcendent moments here and there throughout history, so they are certainly capable of it. Progress on civil rights has indeed been made over many decades, but there is always more work to do, as long as there are people that don’t view it as “progress”. For example, the fact that, after decades of tireless activism, the majority of Americans now support same-sex marriage, is something you should be building upon, rather than only focusing on the setbacks.

If you think that I’m singling out the US, I’m not. Oppression happens everywhere. It is a part of human nature to be egotistical, complacent, and short-sighted. But that’s not the only part of humans. For a democracy to work at its best, we have to appeal to the better parts of our human nature, i.e., the parts of us that: understand and care about how we affect each other, appreciate hard-won freedoms and never take them for granted, and envision a better future and plan well for it. The best changes come from passion and inspiration - not fear and anger. If you, as an individual, are not capable of bringing out and offering up your own better nature by transcending the worst parts of yourself, you can’t really expect the sociopolitical system to be capable of it, either. If you, as an individual, always lose sight of the bigger picture that you’re aiming for, then how will you help others see the importance of your cause?

Gandhi said: “We but mirror the world. All the tendencies present in the outer world are to be found in the world of our body. If we could change ourselves, the tendencies in the world would also change. As a man changes his own nature, so does the attitude of the world change towards him. This is the divine mystery supreme. A wonderful thing it is and the source of our happiness. We need not wait to see what others do.”

IMO, the job of a good citizen involves: 1) caring about the broader impact that your vote has and educating yourself properly so that you make wise voting decisions, 2) exercising your power by actively participating in organizations that advocate for the changes that you want, and 3) having enough self-awareness to avoid being emotionally manipulated into making destructive political judgments. Humans aren’t perfect, but they don’t have to be to create a well-functioning society. Humans make better decisions when the social atmosphere encourages them to open up the mind and heart. We all have a part to play in creating an encouraging social atmosphere for people to deliberate more carefully on their political beliefs.

Are you an unwitting pawn of the media, rewarding the players that only care about getting your eyeballs for ad revenue? Are you only caring about political issues because you read something that incited your outrage? Are you resigned to cynicism, indifference, gloom, or paranoia? Are you all about “owning the enemy”? Are you only concerned about your own prospects in life? Are you waiting helplessly for someone to hand you what you deserve?

OR: Are you joining organizations that create positive change? Are you listening to the experiences of the people around you and understanding how their reality informs their politics? Are you doing the hard work of inspiring the people around you to be their better selves? Do you hope that everyone in your country has a chance to live their best life? Do you stand up to support people in need and work to eliminate injustice? Will you learn the best way to (re)claim what is owed to you from those that deny or oppress you?

You are only one person, so your power is limited. What are you doing to amplify your voice and extend the reach of your power? Are you dying or transcending? A democracy is only ever as strong as the people participating in it.

[undermounts]

Empire of Light—Chapter 3: A Most Dangerous Game

AO3 | Table of Contents  | Ashes and Embers | Playlist

Fic Summary: In the aftermath of the Battle of Ash, the party travels across Morella in search of allies to defeat the Empire of Ash, once and for all.

Chapter Summary: Aerin meets with his mother and the Lords of Whitetower to discuss the war effort while Iliana and Kade go searching for clues about the mysterious attacks.

➳ ➳ ➳ ➳

Aerin Valleros strode through the rose garden, the early morning breeze sliding through his curls like gentle fingers beneath his heavy crown. Dew and hints of frost clung to the serrated leaves of the manicured rose bushes, which were well-tended and enchanted to bloom year-round. The mornings were growing colder and the sun was rising later as the last, lingering dregs of summer faded away into the heart of autumn. 

It was strange, Aerin mused, the passage of time. These last few months felt as if they had crawled by at a snail’s pace, but also as if they had zipped by at record speed. He could not fathom how it was possible that only two months ago, he was held prisoner in the depths of the Khagan’s fortress, hidden in the snow-blasted peaks of the Frostwhisper Mountains of Vishanti. Then, he had been a prince with no crown, hands still stained with his brother’s blood, and haunted by the ghost of his mother.

But now… Now he was the King, with hands that were no less bloody, and he walked with the Queen Mother on his arm.

In another two months, they would be deep into the dead of winter, and it would not be a thin layer of frost that coated the gardens, but snow. Aerin could only speculate how much would change before then. Would his life even be recognizable? Would his kingdom?

Aerin’s mother, Rhiannon, walked beside him with her arm hooked beneath his, her fine-boned hand laid atop his forearm, and a dark veil concealing her face. She was dressed in the rich reds and golds of House Valleros, the perfect complement to Aerin’s midnight blue and silver tunic, which, ironically, were the colors of her family, House Archeron. 

While Baldur had taken after his father in looks, there was no doubt Aerin was his mother’s son. They had the same high cheekbones, straight nose—although Aerin’s now had a faint ridge from all the times it had been broken—and full lips. And thus, the veil that hid her royal visage. had been added to the Dowager Queen’s wardrobe. Without it, there was no way to pass her off as Lady Anielle, a royal advisor whose face was said to have been horribly burned in the explosions that took out the upper half of the palace. As far as the rest of the kingdom was concerned, Rhiannon Valleros was long gone.

Every time he, Captain Ristridin, or Rhiannon herself decided that the King was in need of her counsel, Aerin was faced with the small dilemma of deciding where they should meet. His quarters or his study offered sanctuary from prying eyes, but being alone with his estranged mother in such a small space left Aerin with a creeping feeling of vulnerability, as if allowing her into his quarters allowed her to know more about him than he would ever know about her. Because truthfully, all Aerin had ever known of his mother was nothing.

Aerin thought he had made peace with his mother’s disappearance. After all, he had taken part in orchestrating it. But if that was truly the case, then why did he feel so damned angry whenever she was around? So bitter?

Aerin did not have the answers he sought nor did he have the time to sort out and analyze his own feelings. So he preferred to meet with his mother in the gardens, trailed by attendants and members of the royal guard, even if the veil Rhiannon had to wear in public made him feel like he was part of a funeral procession. Like he was speaking with a ghost. 

If he could, Aerin would simply avoid the meetings altogether, but he could not deny that his mother’s advice about navigating the court was invaluable. 

His memory held true. No one was as skilled at courtly intrigue as Rhiannon, even if she was an outsider.

The Halfling Queen. 

Aerin had so many questions. About his mother, about their heritage, about where she had been all of these years… But unsurprisingly, Rhiannon had been less than forthcoming with her secrets.  All Aerin could get out of her was that yes—she was, in fact, a human descendant of wooly halflings, and yes, that meant he was as well, but no—she was not a true Archeron, at least not by blood. Any questions beyond that, Rhiannon had simply said, Another time, Aerin. We have more important issues to worry about.

Ah, yes. More important issues, like convincing the Lords of Whitetower to go to war. 

“We should be producing supplies, building weapons, and training our soldiers,” Aerin muttered as he and his mother meandered through the hedges beneath the cloudy sky. “Not wasting time convincing the men in charge that this war is real.”

“They say the battle begins long before the troops are even sent to the fields,” his mother mused, her long and graceful steps in sync with his. Even her voice was just as he remembered it—low, rich, and wise, with regalness he could only hope to emulate.

“Half of them don’t even believe the Empire is an imminent threat,” Aerin huffed, irritated. He reached out, plucked a leaf off of a nearby bush, and pressed the pad of his thumb into its frost-covered surface, feeling the small crystals of ice melt against his skin. “They are comforted by the victory at Cragheart and forget how close we were to defeat. And that was just a test. If Iliana hadn’t—”

Aerin cut himself off, his fingers curling around the leaf in his palm as he recalled the crater of destruction she had left on that battlefield. He’d visited Cragheart the day after the battle, once all the pyres had been constructed but before the mass funeral had been held, and was astonished by the ruin Iliana’s magic had left behind. He did not know precisely what the hells had happened to Iliana that day on the fields, only that it had left her changed. Well, he supposed none of his companions were the same people anymore.

“If it hadn’t been for them,” Aerin said vaguely, not trusting himself to speak of his friends without revealing some vulnerable part of himself, “we would have lost that battle.” He shook his head, fuming. “Have they already forgotten how many dead men filled the pyres?”

“I’d wager that they have not,” the Queen Mother replied from beneath her veil, and without looking, Aerin knew her gaze was boring into him. “But this is what happens when men are born into power but given no purpose. They’ve grown complacent, accustomed to peace. These lords grew up on stories of the fiefdom wars, of squashed rebellions. But they do not know how to get their own hands dirty. They would rather ignore the threat and hope it goes away on its own.”

“It won’t go away,” Aerin insisted, although he knew he needn’t try to convince his mother. “Why can’t they see that?”

Through the veil, his mother gave him a pitying look. He despised it.

“They do not want to,” she informed him, gently. Too gently. Aerin found himself wishing she would just be stern with him, like his old tutors were. Not like… not like she was still trying to be his mother. “They are scared, Aerin, and unlike you, they have never confronted the things they fear.”

“So they would let people die instead?” he retorted, his voice sharpening in response to her gentleness.

“Success belongs to everyone involved,” Rhiannon replied sagely, her tone cool and unruffled by Aerin’s bitterness. “But failure rests solely on those in charge.”

“They would let the fault be mine,” Aerin said dryly. “Why does that not surprise me?”

“They do not know you yet, Aerin,” she reminded him, and Aerin bit back the urge to snap, Neither do you.

But he ground his teeth, reining in the words before he could come to regret them.

“It remains to be seen what kintd of king you will be,” Rhiannon continued slowly, lowering her voice so that only he could hear her. “That is the case for all new rulers, not just those with your… past. They know not whether you will be a tyrant or a fool, someone who threatens what they have or someone they may take advantage of. Today, you must show them that you are neither.”

“If Father had been in charge—” Aerin’s breath hitched ever so slightly, and he disguised the hoarseness in his voice with a cough. “If Father had been in charge, they would have listened,” he said morosely. “Just as they had when he sent the standing army to Cragheart.”

“I would not be so sure,” the Queen murmured, shaking her head. “The Battle of Ash is an isolated incident, and the order to fight was a decree given in a state of emergency. Had the lords been given time, they would have fought your father until he gave them what they wanted.”

Aerin bristled, his lips thinning with displeasure as he echoed, “What they wanted?”

“The key to convincing them the war is worth their attention is learning what they desire. All men want for something,” she explained, thoughtfully drumming her fingers against his forearm. “If duty is not enough to spur them into action, perhaps a deal might.”

Aerin frowned, nose wrinkling. “We cannot afford to waste resources that should be dedicated to the war effort on convincing a bunch of lords to defend their own people.”

“We won’t have to,” Rhiannon stated confidently and Aerin glanced over at her with a single brow arched. “Some lords are more important to this cause than others,” she informed him. “Strike the tower at its base and the rest of the pieces will follow.”

Aerin pursed his lips pensively, mulling that over. His mother’s advice reminded Aerin of something he had told Iliana once, when they faced down Ristridin and his Thirteen in the poison fields. There’s thirteen of them, but only one leads.

He really was his mother’s son.

“You have… given me much to think about,” Aerin said at last, drawing them to a halt. Behind them, their retinue of attendants and guards paused as well. 

Aerin looked skyward, taking in the dim rays of sunlight that just barely streamed through the dense array of clouds. The time for his meeting was drawing near. He pulled away from his mother, inclining his head in a polite farewell. “I will consider all of this as I prepare to meet with the Council of Lords.”

Through the opaque veil, his mother’s face fell. The hand at her side twitched, as if she had intended to reach for him, then thought better of it. “Aerin, I want to tell you—”

“No need, my lady,” Aerin said swiftly, his stomach twisting in discomfort at the sudden tenderness that crept into her voice. “I have heard all that I need to hear for today.”

For once, Aerin was glad he had an audience. The nearby attendants and guards were perhaps the only thing saving him from whatever it was his mother had suddenly deemed was important enough to share with him. He stepped back, retreating toward the path that led to the palace. “Thank you for your counsel, Lady Anielle.”

His mother stared at him for a few moments, the shifting clouds stealing away the watery light that had allowed Aerin a glimpse at Rhiannon’s countenance. At last, she nodded, dipping into a low curtsy. “Of course, Your Majesty. I wish you luck with the lords.”

Aerin merely inclined his head, then turned on his heel and strode back toward the palace, leaving his mother behind. It was not until Aerin had cleared the rose gardens that he allowed himself to let out the heavy breath of relief he had not even realized he was holding. Some of the tension slackened in his shoulders now that he had put some distance between himself and the Queen Mother.

“You could stand to be kinder to your mother,” Ristridin mumbled beneath his breath as he fell into step beside Aerin, gravel crunching beneath their boots. “I know it must not be exactly easy having her back after all this time, but she wouldn’t have come if she didn’t care.”

Aerin seriously doubted that. He scowled slightly, glancing at Ristridin sidelong. He refused to believe she came simply out of the goodness of her heart or whatever sense of duty she still miraculously possessed toward guiding her only remaining son. There must have been some other reason why she had returned to Whitetower, a place she had despised so vehemently, she abandoned the city and her family. Aerin just had yet to figure out what that reason was.

He tilted his head, regarding Ristridin with an expression of innocent curiosity. “Have you ever contemplated getting married, Captain?”

Ristridin arched a dark brow. “Not recently. Why?”

“Perhaps you should,” Aerin replied as they stepped into the palace proper, nodding to the guards that were stationed by the doorway. “Then you could start a family of your own whose business you can stick your nose into.”

That startled a laugh out of the knight. Aerin glanced over at him once more, a small smile curling his lips as he watched the old man’s brows raise in amusement.

“Aye,” Ristridin chuckled, shaking his head as he followed Aerin back to his chambers. “I will consider it, Majesty. But let it be known that you are trouble enough.”

Read the rest of the chapter on AO3!

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[returnn-of-the-mac]

Companions react to Sole thinking they’re only useful to the cause. So apologizing for getting hurt or fatally wounded because it means there will be work unfinished, mission failure, medical supplies wasted, etc. If you include the faction leaders too I’ll give you my first born and the smashed fragments of my heart.

Thank you @aintnoonefancy and @merpoi. So here is one of the longer, two-in-one reacts! To be honest, I struggled incorporating the wax-on, wax-off lesson into the writing— I’m sorry. I tried to think of a way to squeeze it in there, but I just couldn’t. I have them doing undignified settler work though. If I do think of a way to add in the lesson, I will make an update/part 2 and link it here. And yes, the companions are romanced. There’s not much fluff involved because I didn’t want to force anything, but it is subtly hinted. Sorry about that! Please enjoy! 😊 (side note: I have deliberately chosen to exlude Father and X6-88 from this react because it would be out of their character to help any “surface dwellers.” I felt like they would straight up refuse)

FO4 Companions React: Sole Getting Injured & Companions Helping With Settler Work

After an intense battle with the Gunners in Quincy that almost resulted in death, Sole wound up in a local clinic in critical condition.

Despite this, Sole continued to worry about the people of the Commonwealth— so much so that they felt guilty for being temporarily bedridden and unable to help. This burden was weighing on Sole, and they eventually revealed their feelings to their companions.

...

Preston

“General, you have done so much for these people, you deserve a break,” Preston explained, “And if we start falling behind on projects and running short on supplies, the settlers will be more than willing to chip in some extra time and resources.

Sole nodded, and Preston grinned.

“Please get some rest. I’ll go let the others know what’s going on. I’ll take care of things while you’re gone. Thank you for everything you do for us, babe.”

Codsworth:

“Oh, come on, [sir/mum]! The people will be fine, I’m sure,” the Mr. Handy reassured, “They are autonomous.”

Sole rolled their eyes. Honestly, they sometimes doubted that.

Codsworth sighed.

“Will it make you feel better if I were to lend them a hand in your absence?”

Sole nodded.

“Then consider it done!”

Piper:

“Aw, stop it, Blue!” Piper demanded, “You work hard every single day to keep the Commonwealth in one piece. Maybe you should take a step back and let the public solve their own problems. You need the rest.”

Sole frowned.

“I don’t want to mention that you’re in rough shape because if that information falls into the wrong hands, it could be bad. Really bad,” The reporter explained, “So how about I make an odd job or volunteer work column in my paper this week? That way, things can still get done while you’re recovering. I can also help out with some of the work, too.”

Nick:

“I can almost guarantee the Commonwealth won’t burn to the ground if you take a few days to yourself,” Nick commented, “Besides, how are you supposed to help the people if you can’t even help yourself? You need to give yourself some time to heal.”

Sole sighed in defeat. Nick was always right.

“Look, I’m sorry if that sounded harsh but I’m worried about you. Take care of yourself, [name]. I don’t want to see you work yourself to an early grave. You get some rest. I’ll do the dirty work until you’re up for it again.”

Curie:

“Non. You are not going back to work, [Madame/Monsieur]. You must get zome rest and recover vrom your injuries,” Curie insisted, “I will make zure I can get you ‘ealthy as quickly as possible, but you need to take a break. Burdening yourzelf with work will only make your condition worse. Please trust me.”

Sole sighed.

“Eef you are zo worried, I will ‘elp ze zettlers whike you are recovering.”

Gage:

“Why are ya so worried about the stupid settlers, babe? Those helpless simpletons need tah learn a thing or two about fighting anyway.”

Sole stared daggers at Gage, prompting the raider to raise his hands in defense.

“Hey, don’t look at me like that. I’m just tellin it like it is. Cold hard facts. They’re useless. And before you ask: no. I’m not helping them.”

Sole and Gage bickered for nearly a half-hour before the raider finally surrendered.

“Fuck! Fine, boss. Ya want me to help those incompetent morons, I’ll help them.”

Hancock:

“You’ve gotta take a break, gorgeous. Let the people take care of themselves, yanno?” Hancock stated, huffing some jet. Sole rolled their eyes at his nonchalant response, and the ghoul immediately sensed that they did not like his answer.

“Look, I know you're for the people. I get it. I really do. But you’ve gotta put yourself first sometimes. You’re gonna end up burning yourself out. I know that feeling all too well,” Hancock continued, “I can take care of the settlers for ya while you’re recovering, you dig? I promise I’m not going to let your settlements burn to the ground.”

Sole sighed in defeat, and the ghoul smirked.

“Thanks for not resisting, [brother/sis]. I gotchu.”

Maccready:

“Who cares about the settlers? You’re injured,” MacCready spat, “You need to take care of yourself.”

Sole protested and their lover put his hands over his ears.

“I’m not listening.”

Typical childish behavior. The merc really knew how to grind Sole’s gears.

After a few moments, MacCready removed his hands from his head and began to speak again.

“Don’t you think it’s about time these settlers learn to take care of themselves? I mean come on. How are these settlements going to last if they can’t even stand on their own two feet? They’re adults for crying out loud,” MacCready continued, heated, “ If Little Lamplight— a settlement run by me and a bunch of kids— could defend itself, why can’t the mungos do it? What’s so hard?”

Sole suggested that MacCready look after the settlements in their absence, considering he did such a good job running Little Lamplight.

The merc huffed.

“Fine. If that’s what it takes for you to get better, I’ll do it. But don’t think I’m going to enjoy it.”

Longfellow:

“C’mon kiddo. Relax. Rest up. Have a damn drink,” Longfellow suggested, holding up a bottle of rum in one hand and whiskey in the other, “Pick your poison.”

Sole sighed and the haborman shrugged.

“Something stronger?” he mixed the two drinks, but Sole held up their hand in protest, “Well, more for me then.”

After a few moments of silence, Longfellow spoke.

“This isn’t like you, kid. What’s wrong?”

Sole voiced their concerns to their companion, who sighed in response.

“To be blunt, these people shouldn’t have to be babied. They should be able to defend themselves,” he set the empty liquor bottles on the ground, “But I know how much this means to you, so I guess I can help you out a little bit. Maybe whip these settlers into shape.”

Strong:

“Human weak right now,” Strong commented, “Need to be strong again.”

Sole insisted that they were fine and sat up, but Strong shoved them back down.

“No human. Need sleep.”

Sole told Strong that they had to help the settlers, and the Supermutant shook his head.

“Strong said ‘no,’ human. Strong understand human help find milk. But human needs rest now. Strong will find milk on own for now. Strong help settlers.”

Cait:

“Rest up darlin. Don’t worry about the bloody settlers,” Cait insisted, “They can deal with their own shite.”

Sole insisted that the settlers needed their help, but Cait was not having it.

“Quit yer yimmering! Those damn settlers can fend for themselves.”

Sole begged their companion to show some compassion, but the redhead was stubborn. After a few minutes, however, Cait gave in.

“Fine. But only because I love ye.”

Danse:

“You can’t go back to work now. You need to recover.”

Sole argued that he was being hypocritical, and the Paladin frowned.

“No. We are discussing two entirely different scenarios. I’m the commanding officer of my ground squad. I am...er...was...essential for order in combat. If my brothers were to be ambushed without me to guide them, it would be detrimental to our cause,” Danse continued, “You are the overseer of several settlements, all of which contain settlers who are perfectly capable of defending themselves. They’ve just gotten complacent.”

Sole couldn’t deny the fact that the settlers had, in fact, become significantly more needy ever since they had taken over.

Danse sighed.

“If it makes you feel any better, I suppose I could help the settlers with some of their...affairs. Just please get some rest, [name].”

Maxson:

“Like mentor, like soldier I see,” Maxson scoffed, “You two never know when to quit. If only we knew what it was, I would have assigned you to another higher-up. Maybe you would have been more sensible. But I digress. You need to recover, Paladin. And that’s why I’m ordering you to stay in bed and rest.”

Sole protested but Maxson shook his head.

“No, I don’t want to hear it,” The Elder asserted, “That was an order. You are officially on leave until further notice. This directive is non-negotiable.”

Sole grumbled and Maxson continued.

“There are pressing matters I must attend to back on the Prydwen. But during your absence, I suppose I can spare an Initiate to assist your settlements with anything they may need.”

Deacon:

“Easy there, masochist,” Deacon teased, “You’re injured. I don’t care how much you enjoy torturing yourself. Take a break, buddy.”

Sole rolled their eyes, and Deacon stuck his tongue out.

He could be so infuriating.

“Listen. If babysitting the settlers is all it takes to get you to stay still, I gotchu,” he claimed, “Mama Deacon will keep all of the settlers in line. No problem.”

Sole was hesitant, but eventually caved. How bad could it be?

Desdemona:

“Please, take your health more seriously,” Desdemona scolded, “You need rest.”

Sole frowned, but did not want to argue with the Railroad leader. They knew there would be no point.

“Now, to ensure that you don’t worry yourself sick, I have—” Desdemona rubbed her temples, “-- I have assigned Deacon to help you with the labor. Unfortunately, he was our only option.”

Sole pursed their lips and Desdemona shrugged.

“I know it’s not ideal, but it’s the best I could do. I apologize.”

…

Preston:

Since Preston spent most of his time helping the settlers in Sanctuary, he was no stranger to farming.

In fact, he sometimes preferred farming to running the place. Having the ability to be outdoors and tend to plants was a welcomed change to his usual responsibilities of locating struggling settlements and dispatching Sole.

Codsworth:

Codsworth hummed to himself as he maintained the settlers’ community garden. Like Preston, he was already accustomed to helping the residents of Sanctuary with menial work. He was just happy that he could indirectly help Sole as they recovered from their injuries.

Piper:

“Phew,” Piper breathed, wiping beads of sweat from her forehead, “Farming is a lot harder than I had thought. I really need to get into better shape, don’t I?”

The reporter continued digging trenches and planting seeds for another hour before she plopped onto the ground.

“Oy vey! I need a break.”

She then noticed a large tear in her jacket.

“Dammit. This was my favorite coat, too. How the heck does [name] do this day in and day out?”

Nick:

Nick was deep in thought as he weeded a cluster of tomatoes in one of the planters behind one of the restored houses.

“This is exactly how Jenny had her garden set up,” the detective stated, taking a quick glance around the fenced-in area, “Brings back memories of caring for it. We made the best damn salad on the block.”

Nick paused and studied the vegetables, deciding that they were, in fact, ready to be harvested.

He smiled.

“I bet a fresh salad would be just what these people need to lighten their spirits. Good thing I still remember the recipe.”

Curie:

“Je suis toute seule encore une fois, sans une ami, sans rien à faire,” Curie sang, watering a planter containing young carrot sprouts, “Je suis pas pressée de retrouver ma solitude et ma misère.”

She stopped watering to take a look around her, appreciating the world around her. From the warm sunshine, to the cawing of crows, to the gentle autumn breeze that swept through Sanctuary. It was a rare moment of peace.

“I wish my love were ‘ere to zee zis,” Curie mused, “Eet ees truly a beautiful day. I wish I could zpend eet wiz zem.”

Gage:

“Ugh. Farmin. Reminds me of my childhood.”

Gage chewed on a piece of straw as he dug a hole for a corn crop.

“Heh. I wonder how mad the boss would be if I tried to ransack this settlement,” he questioned,

looking around swiftly and sizing up the settlers, “It would be a fuckin piece of cake. These people are weak.”

He shook his head.

“Nah. I can’t. Babe would kill me. Put my head on a stake like Nisha and her gang. I’m not lookin to be a human kabob.”

Hancock:

“This is so mundane,” Hancock mumbled, raking carrot seeds across dry soil.

He suddenly had an idea and looked around mischievously.

“Heh. Babe would definitely disapprove, but imma spice this up a wee bit.”

He injected himself with some Daddy-O and patiently waited for it to kick in. It didn’t take long at all.

The ground suddenly began wobbling and the sky turned a pretty shade of strobe-light-rainbow.

“Yes,” Hanock stated, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face, “Yes. This is much more fun.”

The seeds he had previously been raking started hopping up and down and cheering for him.

“Who’s the best seed daddy?” Hanock called, “I’m the best seed daddy!”

A crowd of confused and slightly disturbed settlers gathered around the ghoul who was currently screaming at the ground.

Sole sure did have some strange friends.

MacCready:

“I thought I’d be leading, not farming,” MacCready complained, “I’ve been duped.”

The merc scowled as he dug holes and planted seeds for hours on end.

“This is so pointless,” he complained, “We already have plenty of corn. Why do we need more? I hope we get attacked. I need some action.”

Longfellow:

“What will we do with a drunken sailor? What will we do with a drunken sailor? What would we do with a drunken sailor Early in the mornin!” Longfellow sang as he watered the tomato crop.

“Way hay and up she rises! Way hay and up she rises! Way hay and up she rises early in the mornin!”

The harborman pulled out a whiskey and popped the cap off, taking a violent swing. He then had an idea.

“I’m sure spirits will perk these withered tomatoes up.”

He proceeded to shower the crop in liquor.

“Shave his belly with a rusty razor! Shave his belly with a rusty razor! Shave his belly with a rusty razor! Early in the mornin!”

Strong:

“Strong dig, and dig, and dig. Strong shouldn’t be digging. Strong should be smashing!”

It was then that a crow decided to swoop down upon the corn crop, and pluck some kernels from the grain.

“Hey! Bird no eat crop! Crop for humans!” Strong bellowed, picking up the shovel and whacking the bird with it.

He knocked the poor crow into an eternal slumber.

“Stupid birds no get past Strong. Strong is strong.”

Cait:

“This is dumb,” Cait complained, harvesting some mutfruit, “What’s the point of this, even? These people can’t even pick their own damn fruit? I have better things to do.”

Cait walked away from the garden and headed toward the Sanctuary bar. She made it about halfway there when she began having second thoughts.

“After all [name] has done for me, the least I can do is pick some fruit,” The redhead looked back in the direction of the garden and sighed, “I can’t just leave this work unfinished. Gotta show my love somehow, ye?”

Danse:

“Why am I stuck digging holes? I’d much rather be on lookout duty,” Danse grumbled, “I’m more qualified for that anyway.”

The Paladin reached into his pockets and pulled out a handful of seeds, tossing them into the fresh holes.

“At least this is a good upper body workout,” he listened to the sound of the wind, “And it’s unusually peaceful.”

The former Paladin used this rare moment of silence to let his mind wander.

This menial farm work is definitely an inconvenience. But at least helping these settlers is putting [name] at ease. For that reason alone, it’s all worth it.

Deacon:

Deacon was decked out in farmhand clothes and a straw hat as he raked seeds across the soil.

“I could get used to this. Maybe I should take up farming as a hobby,” He kissed one of the little sprouts in front of him, “Right, Violet?”

The Railroad agent took a few steps backwards and felt something under his foot. He looked down in horror to see that he had accidentally crushed one of his precious baby saplings.

“Noooo! Daisy! I’m so sorry!” he wailed.

He quickly straightened the plant and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that it was still alive.

“Phew. That was a close one.”