#and while i do think they probably just gave her an arbitrary age that would make Eddie's life more tragic

[lover-of-mine]

Different timeline anon, but I agree with the writers generally losing track or attention to detail on dates and timeframes. I also agree with the Eddie and Buck age gap discrepancy. Honestly what I suspect happened there is someone noted "Shannon was 30," and whoever had to make or give direction on the headstone didn't math correctly and forgot to subtract the 30 from 2019 instead of 2023 lol.

Imma be honest with you, I never understood the insistence that Eddie was a solid 5 years older than Buck, I remember starting to read fanfiction and everyone going with 5 years specifically and all the old man jokes and going "wait did I miss something?" because I always saw Eddie as someone who got his highschool girlfriend pregnant, so given Chris' age, he couldn't be that much older, at least in my head, even more with the way we know Eddie enlisted because Shannon got pregnant and he also talks about enlisting to avoid college applications, and while I have no idea how the us enlisting system works or college applications for that matter, I always saw that happening before he was 20 in a very vague sense, so I put Buck at 26 in under pressure and Eddie maybe at 28, if I'm pushing to the edge there. But I do agree they didn't think about the implications of Shannon's birthday on Eddie's. I don't think they thought that we would actually read that tombstone and start questioning Eddie's age. Or maybe they narratively need Eddie to be seen as younger than he has been and it's gonna come into play later. But I don't know.

[jostyriggslover96]

Unexpected Connections Pt.2

Summary: Y/N has a complicated history with Navy men and has sworn off dating them completely. When she finds herself working at the Hard Deck to earn some extra money, Navy men are hard to avoid. Catching the eye of Rooster, Y/N is determined to avoid any potential feelings she may have for him, despite his persistence. Will Y/N be able to avoid her feelings for Rooster and avoid the Navy man that made her resent the profession? Or will she make some unexpected connections that she can’t shake off?

AN: Thank you so much for all the love on the first part of this story, I truly can’t explain what all the support means to me. I hope you all enjoy this part, there’s some drama ahead! If anyone wants to be tagged, let me know! Thanks again, you’re all the absolute best!

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of alcohol and drinking, complicated history with a parent, angst.

Word Count: 3.3k

Pt.1  Pt.3

Unexpected Connections Pt.2

“So, you and Rooster?” Penny slyly glances away as your eyes shoot daggers at her after she interrupts the blissful silence you were both enjoying while deep cleaning behind the bar. You could recognize that smirk on her face anywhere; it’s the same look she used to give your mom when she was dating and the look she started giving you once you entered the dating world.

“There is no me and Rooster,” you fire back as you continue to scrub the calcification building up on the edge of the sink. You knew Penny would never fall for that, she knew you just as well as your mother. The two were close as they were the only single moms in the area at the time; they helped each other raise their girls and navigate the world of single parenting. Penny and Amelia were just as much your family as your mother was. Now that your mother was living in Chicago to be with her aging mother, you could tell that Penny felt responsible to offer you the support any mother would. Even if it meant teasing you like a teenager who had their first crush.

 “Sure thing, just like there was no me and Mav. I saw that he gave you a ride home the other night, most men wouldn’t do that,” her eyebrows were raised, she clearly was not buying it.

 “Penny, you know I don’t date navy men. We haven’t even spoken since he dropped me off anyways. Let’s just move on,” you were now avoiding eye contact as she was sure to have more motherly advice for you. Or teasing, honestly it would probably be teasing.

 “Sweetheart, you and I both know you created that arbitrary rule for yourself when you were 15,” hands on her hips and motherly judgement in her eyes.

 “Who says it’s arbitrary? I refuse to let another navy man or top gun pilot hurt me,” your voice laced with malice. You were quickly losing any shred of patience you had for this conversation.

 “Y/N are you really going to miss out on what could be the happiest relationship of your life because of him?” Penny didn’t dare say his name around you, knowing it was a trigger for anger and anxiety. Sighing loudly, you threw your sponge down before rubbing your temples with your fingers.

 “They’re all the same, they care more about that elite program than they do their families.”

 “That’s not true for all of them, give him the benefit of the doubt,” Penny placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, trying to offer some form of comfort.

 “I watched my mother’s heart get torn apart by that man while I was growing up. All he cared about was ranking number 1 and going on missions. Penny, I was little, but I saw it. I remember her crying in the middle of the night thinking I couldn’t hear it. Then he just leaves and finds some other family, like we were nothing,” your voice raising as you shrug her hand off. Anger growing inside you as this conversation continued.

 “Y/N, your dad is a complete asshole. I agree with you, but not every pilot is the same.”

 “Penny stop!” you shouted, startling yourself and Penny. You never shouted, even in your angriest moments. “I’m taking my fifteen,” you mutter before walking off and out of the bar to sit on the patio by the beach.

 “What was that about?” Maverick asked as he approached the bar cautiously, sweat on his brow from the beaming afternoon sun.

 Penny let out a long sigh before answering, “Y/N and Rooster. There’s something there, everyone in this bar could feel it. But she won’t go anywhere near another man in the navy.”

 “Rooster wouldn’t stop asking Phoenix about her. Even took his shot at me,” Maverick said with a smile.

 “They would be perfect together! We have to get them together somehow,” Penny muttered, half to Pete, but mostly to herself as she began scheming.

 “Well, Rooster and the crew are playing dogfight football on the beach with the new recruits. She’s bound to witness quite the show while she’s on her break,” Maverick pointed out as Penny smiled, thinking fondly upon her memories of dogfight football. What a glorious game indeed.

 -------------

 As you sat down on the patio chair you noticed there was a large group of people running around on the beach. Leaning back and crossing your legs, you pulled your aviators off your shirt to shield your eyes from the sun. You saw a football flying through the air and what looked like Phoenix running after it. Ah, so this was a group of aviators. Of course it was, you could never escape them. You just hoped Bradley Bradshaw wasn’t among them.

 As you zoned out for a few moments, you saw a second football being tossed through the air. Wait, that couldn’t be right. You didn’t know much about football, but you did know there was traditionally only one ball in play. Rolling your eyes, you pulled your phone out of your pocket and tried to distract yourself by scrolling through Instagram.

 You were quickly disturbed as you heard someone shouting in celebration. Annoyed you glanced up and noticed Rooster in all his shirtless, sweaty, ripped glory tossing down the football and celebrating, Biting your lip, you couldn’t help but stare at the man who was sculpted like a Greek god. It was like a scene out of a movie.

 Was this man even real? Real people don’t look that gorgeous. You were practically drooling by this point when his head turned in your direction. He clearly noticed you gawking as he sent a wink your way. Quickly scrambling to avert your gaze and look busy, you practically dropped your phone.

 Peering back up to check if he was still looking, but he had gone back to the game and was intensely trying to wrestle the ball out of someone’s arms. Scanning the crowd you noticed Natasha standing with her arms crossed, a knowing smirk gracing her face. You felt your cheeks burn as your eyes darted back to your phone, realizing you had been caught staring by two people.

 As you attempted to focus on the different pictures of your friends on vacation or a cousin’s wedding, you found your mind drifting back to the shirtless sculpted Bradley. You had to admit, he looks amazing. You were adamantly against dating anyone in the navy but between his six pack abs, deep gravelly voice, and panty dropping smile you could absolutely get behind dating someone like him. Or in front of him, you thought chuckling to yourself.

 Realizing you were fantasizing about a man who was off limits to you, you shook your head to snap out of it. You needed to get it together; you vowed to yourself after watching your mother’s heart get shattered by a Top Gun pilot that you would never do the same. Bradley Bradshaw was off limits and that was how it was going to stay. But he was just so dreamy, god you knew he was going to be trouble.

 “We’re still on tomorrow?” a voice snapped you out of your thoughts. Glancing up from your electronic device you saw Phoenix standing in front of you with others approaching behind her. Her skin was glistening from the hot sun high in the sky. “For dinner Y/N?” she questioned again as you brought yourself back to reality.

 “Oh yeah, absolutely,” you stammered, still recovering from the heart stopping good looks of a certain pilot. “I’m off all day, so let me know when you’re ready after work,” you forced a smile as she nodded in agreement.

 “I’d love to take you to dinner too,” the voice of Rooster chimed in as he came to stand next to Phoenix. Before you could rebut his offer, he kept going, “We could go grab a bite now, I’m sure you noticed we all worked up an appetite,” he said with a smug smirk. You cheeks warming at his teasing.

 “I don’t think so Rooster,” you bit back before he could try to further convince you. You weren’t sure you had the will power to say no if he kept asking.

 “It’s Bradley,” he quipped.

 “Whatever,” you said with a roll of your eyes. His head tilting to the side, this was a game for him.

 “Come on, there’s this great taco stand not far from here,” he pushed.

 “Sorry Bradley, but I’m working.”

 “Oh, I’m sure I could talk Penny into giving you the night off,” flashing you those glimmering eyes. His voice was rough yet sweet as honey, and oh so tempting.

 “No, I’d rather stay here and serve the rowdy day drinkers,” you commented while standing and turning to head inside.

 “So you’ll go to dinner with Phoenix, but not me? I see how it is,” he called as you started walking away as more of a group formed around him.

 “Well you see Rooster, Phoenix isn’t trying to get into my pants. So we’re good,” you smirked leaving him stunned as the group around him laughed at his rejection. Flipping your hair over your shoulder, you took the final few steps to the door and pulled it open before heading inside without another glance at the shocked aviator.

 A short while later you were wiping down the bar, things were still fairly quiet aside from Rooster and his crew who were occupying the pool tables. You were zoned out, determined to get the mysterious sticky substance off the bar top when you heard someone clear their throat. Glancing up you froze, shocked to see the man in front of you. The man you could’ve gone your whole life without seeing again. The man standing in front of you was your father, if you could even consider him that…. Vice Admiral “Cyclone” Simpson.

 How didn’t you notice him come in? Kicking yourself for zoning out so you couldn’t hide from your father.

 “How have you been?” he broke the silence with a feeble attempt at conversation. No! You didn’t owe this man a damn thing. He lost the right to know how you were doing a long time ago.

 “What can I get you?” you tried not to stammer, but you could tell your voice was shaking. Hell, your whole body was shaking.

 “Whisky, two fingers,” he responded, noticing how cold you were to him. You turned around to pour his drink and avoid his lingering gaze. This man left you when you were one, missed countless birthdays, forgot to pick you up for visits, and even missed all your graduations. To you, he was nothing more than the sperm donor in this situation. Yet he still managed to fill you with rage and sorrow at the same time. Silently, you slid the drink across the bar to him, not saying another word to the man who didn’t deserve your time. “So, how’s your mom?”

 The fucking audacity of this man. “You have your drink, now you can go,” your voice laced with anger as you gestured for him to leave the bar. He stood there, holding his ground. It looked like he was going to say something else to you when you felt a hand on your back. Glancing to the side, you noticed Penny shooting daggers at Cyclone.

 “You heard her, you have your drink, it’s time to go,” she stood with you until he sauntered back to the table of men he was here with. “Sweetheart, why don’t you take the night off” Mav can help me out.”

 You felt like a ghost as you nodded your head in agreement, practically running from the bar after you grabbed your purse. He never came to the bar, why today? You cried the whole way home, and to your mom for an hour after that.

 Little did you know, Rooster witnessed the whole thing and found it quite interesting. He spent the rest of the evening grilling Phoenix about your reaction to Cyclone. Yet, he never guessed the man was your father. Bradley thought the man was your former lover or a current flame, it was hard to tell from the interaction. He practically begged Phoenix to ask you about him, having to make promises to her that he would have a hard time keeping in order for her to agree. Rooster needed to know who the man was to you, he wanted to do everything in his power to protect you from him.

 ---------------------

 The next evening you were seated in a booth at the local burger joint with Natasha laughing as she told the story of Jake having to do two hundred push-ups after betting Maverick he could beat him in a dogfight. Natasha had told her the intense story of one of their last missions, some kind of top secret nearly impossible to survive missions that they had to do insane training for. Apparently this mission was why the whole crew was called back to Top Gun in the first place. Natasha explained after the success of the mission, they were all stationed at Top Gun as some kind of elite team of the already elite pilots.

 The two of you chatted for a while, discussing your upcoming trip to Chicago, her plans to fix up her dad’s old motorcycle, your car being on its last life, her plans for a summer barbeque, and your new job at the Hard Deck. The two of you were fast friends when you met last year. Despite your distain for the navy, Phoenix was convincing you there were good people amongst the aviators.

 You were picking at your fries as Natasha transitioned the conversation in a direction you never expected. “So, how do you know Cyclone?” you practically choked on the fries you were chewing, her question like a punch to the chest. You chewed your fries slowly, trying to come up with some kind of excuse to avoid the real conversation.

 “Why do you ask?” you tried to come off casually. You hadn’t expected the subject of your estranged father to come up. On the other hand, you ran from the bar so quickly yesterday you had no idea how many people saw the tense exchange.

 “Things looked tense yesterday at the Hard Deck,” her voice filled with concern and compassion. You sighed, realizing you were about to lie to one of your very good friends. Natasha was always so vulnerable with you, even though it was partially against her nature. You knew it was only right to do the same. You weren’t going to let that man come between your friendships.

 “He’s uh, he’s my dad,” your eyes focused in on the neck of your beer bottle to avoid her gaze. You didn’t really talk about him with anyone, so this was incredibly awkward.

 “Holy shit, Bradshaw thought you might be sleeping together,” she sounded slightly relieved at this discovery. “I didn’t know he had any other kids.” Of course she didn’t. It’s not like he had pictures of you up in his office beside his two younger children and wife. You doubted he even had any pictures of you at all.

 “Yeah, he does.” Part of you felt hurt that your father never showed enough interest in you for people to know you existed in his life, but the other part of you was grateful. It took you years of therapy to accept that you wanted nothing to do with him, but that still didn’t make this hurt any less.

 “Wait, his wife looks way too young to be your mom.”

 “She is not my mother,” you voice sounding more annoyed than you intended. “He ditched me and my mom a long time ago. Like when I was a baby. I’ve never actually met his wife or his other kids. My mom raised me alone, with the help of Penny. She sacrificed everything to give me the best life. She’s the absolute best woman I know, aside from Penny,” you felt yourself growing slightly emotional. Your mom truly was the best mom out there. You hoped someday to be half the mother she is, just not with a navy man.

 Phoenix was silent for a moment, respecting your mixed emotions on the subject. “I knew he was a dick!” she commented, letting out an exasperated sigh. You couldn’t help but chuckle. He truly was a dick. The two of you laughed for a few minutes, you were finally making eye contact again. She just had a way of making any situation comfortable, which was not an easy job. You barely spoke about your father with anyone, not even most of your friends.

 “Fucking Rooster, thinking I would sleep with someone like Cyclone. The man is married,” you shuddered at the statement. “He’s a dick too.”

 Phoenix gave you a knowing look, she knew you didn’t really feel that way about Rooster. “He’s really not Y/N, you should give him a shot.”

 “I don’t date navy men, Tash. You know this about me.”

 “Why not?”

 “I’m not going to get hurt by anyone else in the navy,” you commented firmly.

 “So you’re going to let Simpson ruin your shot at what could be the greatest relationship of your life?” she scoffed.

 “Yeah right, Rooster would not be the greatest relationship of my life,” rolling your eyes at her statement

 “Y/N, Bradley is actually a good guy. Yeah, some guys in the navy are assholes, but that’s not him. He tours all the little kids around the base when they come with their classes. He always stays late at the bar to make sure we all get home okay. When Bob was sick, Rooster made his mom’s chicken noodle soup recipe for him. He even stayed at my bedside after I had to eject during a training exercise until I woke up to make sure I was okay. I even heard he gave you a ride home the other night when your car wasn’t starting, ,” she took a big gulp of her beer after her speech.

 Maybe you were wrong about him, maybe there was a good guy in the navy after all. The two of you were silent for a few minutes as you continued to pick at the remainder of your fries. “Thanks Tash,” you smiled at your friend. Even though you didn’t like to admit it, sometimes you were wrong. You just weren’t ready to let your guard down with Bradley quite yet. After all, you had promised yourself to never date a navy man for a reason, part of you still wasn’t convinced he was so different from the others. No, you still couldn’t go there with him. Your heart was too fragile. You weren’t going to let the dreamy aviator be the reason you broke your rules.

 You excused yourself from the table, needing a few minutes alone in the bathroom to recover from the intense conversation. Little did you know, Natasha would take this time to send Bradley a text, filling him in on the Cyclone situation. Rooster was shocked to say the least. Phoenix got a string of texts about how much of an asshole Cyclone was, what kind of monster could do that to their family, and how much he wanted to lay into him if he ever so much as gazed in your direction.

 You had a feeling Rooster was trouble, you just didn’t know that now he was going to be trouble that vowed to protect you at all costs.

[bawbio]

My Media Thread

Ok so before i get started i just want to say that i'm gonna be doing recommendations vs giving things an x/10 score like on my twitter media thread since the scores i gave were honestly arbitrary and a recommendation would give a much more clear view on how i feel about a game. Down below are the categories this thread will be using Don't recommend/Don't play it (Whichever one my brain remembers in this category at the time of writing) - I personally think no one should be subjected to playing this game and i would highly recommend not engaging with it at all costs like not even as a joke

Play at your own risk - I personally wouldn't seriously recommend this game to someone but if you want to give it a try go for it it could be really funny who knows

Maybe - This one will mainly be used for if i recommend the game but i think it's definitely not for everyone whether it be for difficulty or for potentially triggers in the game or even just some really weird shit

Recommend - I recommend this game wholeheartedly and would gladly suggest it to pretty much anyone

MUST PLAY - PLAY THIS GAME IMMEDAITELY RIGHT NOW

Oh and one final thing i'll be using the tag #beeb's media thread for this whole thread idk if you can mute tags or anything but if you can you can use it to mute this whole thread

So i guess without further ado i'll be starting my media thread here with danganronpa trigger happy havoc, So the first danganronpa game sure is an experience that's for sure and my opinion on the series has changed a LOT since i first played through the series and wrote my original media thread posts so i guess i'll just say this now. I don't like danganronpa as much as i did back then since my recency bias for the series went away ages ago and i've had plenty of time to look over the series retrospectively but the first game still has some pretty fun stuff. The whole mystery of why they're all in hope's peak i'd still say is pretty cool and hope's peak itself is a fantastic killing game setting and gives off a perfect atmosphere for the whole thing. The characters in one are kind of a mixed bag, on one hand you have characters who i think are genuinely pretty solid like sakura (She's probably my favorite character from 1 it's either her chihiro or mondo and maybe hina) and on the other you have whatever the fuck toko (in this game at least UDG helps her out a fair amount) and hifumi are where they honestly really suck just kind of being really annoying/weird most of the time. The chapters in this game are also mostly ok aside from like chapter 3 which is probably the game's lowest point trialwise and chapter 2 for how it handles chihiro (I refuse to get into any chihiro related drama so i won't go really in depth on that here) and just that really chapter 2 is mostly ok otherwise. Chapter 4 was especially nice and is my personal pick for my favorite chapter in the game and chapter 1 while it starts out slow imo has one of the absolute best executions in the trilogy. Thankfully this game also sticks the landing fairly well with its ending and it didn't completely fall flat on its face and seriously fuck up the rest of the game by ending on a sour note (Don't worry danganronpa 2 you're next) Personally i'd give danganronpa trigger happy havoc a...

Maybe - While danganronpa's concept of the killing game is something i unironically think is one of my favorite mechanisms for telling a story with how much cool character shit it can cause the execution the games do with the concept can be uh, less than stellar at times. Also aside from the obvious (violence, blood, and a whole lot of murder) stuff that would lead to me seriously consider giving a game a maybe. The game (and the series in general tbh) has some really weird shit in them like both toko and hifumi are really big offenders in this game and i don't even want to get into the chihiro discourse not to mention the gross shower peeping bonus scene in chapter 3 although that one is completely missable (thankfully) if you didn't get a certain item from the monokuma machine but still regardless all of that is enough for me to give this game a maybe, if you think you can handle the blood, gore, everything else and more in danganronpa i'd honestly say it would be worth picking up and trying the series out.

[demonslayedher]

Buriko-Senpai! This is such a wonderful blog to read, and I love your art so much! It's so nice to see other traditional artists out there! What's your thoughts on the demon slayer marks and their affects after Muzan's defeat? Do you think they're a purely physical effect, or a supernatural curse like Ubuyashiki's? It seems like in the latter case it would be lifted? In Tanjiro's status report, he mentions wanting everyone to be happy "when he's gone", and hints of preparation for the future...

Thank you for the kind words on my art! (≧◡≦) Glad to know people like the style, I like the feel of trad art both for the final product and how the pen feels in my hand, haha~. I love all the additional possibilities in digital art, but will leave that to the people who are good at it. Glad you find my blog a good read too, because we’ve got another lengthy read ahead.

As for the mark and whether it works in a purely physical sense or a curse sense, I'm ok thinking of it in either way, depending on its purposes in post-canon fanwork (but of course, you can do whatever you want in fanwork totally inventing the mark or completely ignoring it too). As Gotouge never states exactly what becomes of Tanjiro, Giyuu, and Sanemi, I don’t feel we can declare it working one way or another. We'll consider it from both angles, but in general, I think canon evidence leans toward an avoidable physical impact. Even that, however, leaves room for interpretation on strict "25" might be or not.

If we approach the curse direction first, the worldbuilding surrounding the Ubuyashiki curse gives a lot of framework for the mark being a curse. The second fanbook even gives us more circumstance and age-related perimeters that seem very arbitrary, like how only one male will survive each generation and how the daughters will also die young by sudden illness or accident if they don’t marry out. As the curse is tied to Muzan’s/demons existence, it is completely lifted once Muzan is eradicated, but Kiriya still anticipates dying in his 20’s and does not feel relieved that it’s gone until he’s in his 30’s. This would put Giyuu and Sanemi in their 50’s if they’re still around, and with their own curses effectively gone, they’d probably have spent the past couple decades insisting to Kiriya that he can relax.

If the rebound of the mark is a supernatural curse, there are a couple other things that make sense about this to me, in the light of cosmic justice at play in this universe. First, it’s a general rule in a lot of philosophies and other works of fiction that to gain something powerful, you must pay the price and sacrifice something. Second, the Ubuyashiki family is cursed to carry the sins of one of its members until they can stop that demon member. While Demon Slayers may not necessarily be carrying the sins of demons, we see demon marks at play in this series first, though its effects are not clear until we see how Nezuko is stronger when her vines appear. A Demon Slayer also gaining extra strength like this is, perhaps, taboo.

As for the mark being a purely physical effect, I think the emphasis on physical effects of the mark (especially how in Chapter 129 Muichiro analyzes its effects on body temperature and the heart), and how throughout the manga it is continually stressed that the Demon Slayers are mere humans even if Breath helps them push the natural limits of human ability, lend to a more physical interpretation that in order to push so far past normal limits, it has to borrow against the natural human lifespan. This is how the characters in-universe also interpret its effects. If we look more into what Muichiro says:

Muichiro: The anger was too strong for me to have any handle on my emotions. I believe that in that moment, my heartrate exceeded 200 beats, and my body felt as hot as though it was burning. My temperature would had measured at least 39 degrees or more. Shinobu: !? Could you move like that? That would be life-threatening. Muichiro: Right. That’s why I think it’s a matter of falling into one category or another. Whether you die or survive that moment is what determines whether a mark will appear or not. Amane: A heartrate of over 200, and why a temperature of 39 degrees? Muichiro: That’s because when I was received treatment at Kocho-san’s place I was running a fever. When my temperature was taken, the thermometer read 39 degrees. At the time I would have been said to have a mark appear, my body was just as feverish.

(For reference, according to searching with the same terms used in the original text, your top heartrate is 220 minus your age, making Muichiro's 206 beats per minute. The average for someone in their 20's is 120~140, somewhat hard exercise would put it at 150, and hard exercise puts it at 170, according to the Borg scale. Normal body temperature in Celsius is 37 degrees; while 39 C = 102.2 F.)

If we look back at when Tanjiro is first facing off against Daki, he considers how he gets more power out of Hinokami Kagura than from Water Breathing because it suits his body better, but he is not yet physically capable of the switch between them. As he psyches himself out in Chapter 77, we see that he has physically been trying to prepare himself for this, and he’s shouting at himself to set his heart ablaze. Clearly, Tanjiro is leaning into that advice from Rengoku-san, and if he’s on his way to getting the mark, he’s been taking that advice somewhat literally.

In Chapter 78, as he purposely raises his own temperature to fight the side effects of switching to Hinokami Kagura, we get a flashback that Kiyo-chan was very worried that Tanjiro was running a temperature of 38 degrees (100.4 F) for three days, but Tanjiro begged her not to tell Shinobu yet because he felt fine in that sustained feverish state, and was able to put more power into Hinokami Kagura that way. (This may also be part of why the mark seems to have a different effect on Sun Breath users, as their body draws from this power in a more sustained way.)

We can probably think of most of the other Breath Users who attained the mark as having gotten it in a similar way to Muichiro. In a fit of high emotion and desperate battle, their body pulled from its natural reserves, and similar to a human and/or demon being exposed to lots of Muzan’s cells all at once and either dying or quickly adapting, they attained a mark and relied on that temporary extra burst of strength. While it either happens or doesn’t happen for the others (Muichiro plainly states he was unaware of a mark’s appearance) based on being the flow of tense battle, Himejima seemed to have gained enough ability that he could choose when he wanted to tap into that power. When we’re first left not knowing what else Amane told the Pillars, Himejima openly wonders what would happen in his case (seeing as he is over the age of 25). In the third light novel, we get a brief scene of Himejima pulling Muichiro aside after that meeting to ask if he’s alright with this, since he’s just found out that he has no chance already of living a long life. Muichiro is fine and wonders about Himejima, who is also fine with this. They both are willing to do whatever it takes to fight Upper Moons and know their survival has never been assured. Himejima goes on to say similar things to Kokushibo in Chapters 169 and 170, when we the readers are finally told about the limited life expectancy. The two of them both sort of expect Himejima to drop dead that night because of his limited stores to draw from. Himejima would had preferred to not raise his temperature so much until facing Muzan (seeing as he knows he’ll be racing against time), but knows he has no choice but to start while facing Kokushibo. Kokushibo is somewhat impressed with his control of getting a mark and his preparation to die, and he finds it a waste of Himejima’s ability and likewise is like, “why not preserve your flesh as a demon” because, as we find out in Kokushibo’s flashbacks in Chapter 178, this was part of what motivated him to accept Muzan’s blood. He couldn’t handle the frustration of his polished techniques being wiped out by a short life span, especially since it would mean he was soon out of time to match or best Yoriichi. If we go back to that conversation between Himejima and Kokushibo, Kokushibo loses his cool (hahaha, that feels like a bit of a pun here) the moment Himejima is like, “there was one exception to the rule though, wasn’t there?” I suspect that Yoriichi was the exception partly due to Sun Breathing being a more perfected, sustained form of pushing the limits of human capability, and Yoriichi being born naturally perfect at it, so his body didn’t need to scramble looking for extras sources of power like hastily (or slowly) borrowing against his lifespan. What’s very interesting about Kokushibo is that he also regularly sustained his mark, so perhaps it’s possible he could had lived past 25? Here's what really key: We also don’t know about these early marked users. Did they regularly sustain their marks, or did they only show up regularly when they battled demons, repeatedly borrowing against their future lifespan? Or was it a one-off thing for each of them, like it was for Giyuu and Sanemi? It’s possible that even if Giyuu and Sanemi are doomed to shorter lives, since they both only had the marks for relatively short periods of time on a single night, they might well exceed 25 years. The fact that Gotouge gave them descendants (as opposed to only implied reincarnations), and because they are both characters generally written as dense in the ways of love and close personal relationships, that sort of implies they needed some time before leaving behind offspring, and I hear a lot of voices in the fandom displeased with the idea of them leaving children behind when they know they won't be around to raise them. Since we don't know any canon details on this, let's cut the boys some slack and say they took a chance on being happy. After all, all their time in the Corp already teaches them tomorrow is never assured.

Side note while we’re on the Sanemi topic, he attains his mark right after Himejima brings his own forth (because Himejima is a badass who can just be like, “ok, now”). While he comments to Himejima what a good idea it was to do Pillar Training so he could attain that powerful state, it’s also possible that being in the presence of someone who already had one was part of what triggered Sanemi’s body to access that state as well. The nature of the mark’s spread from person to person is another tick in the “supernatural curse” box if people like that interpretation more.

Let’s take a look back at Tanjiro, though.

Tanjiro, our special Hinokami Kagura boy, was already a special case for his own knowledge of Sun Breathing (however imperfect), and his own sustained mark (though as Genya notes in Chapter 134, it tends to transform slowly, and as Tanjiro remarks in response to Shinjuro’s comments in Chapter 81, his mark was not something he was born with like the original Sun Breath user was, it was but a childhood injury which took on a different shape when he was injured at the Final Selection). While Amane cites him as the one who started the trickle of marks appearing again, we know in the Pleasure Quarter arc than Tanjiro was been unknowingly training himself to make the mark appear, like the Pillars later tried to do in training.

Tanjiro also, however, has the very unique experience of undergoing repeated cruel and unusual suffering in battle against Muzan, basically dying, turning into a demon with more of Muzan’s cells than any other demon in history, and turning human again with man-made medicine all in the span of about two hours.

We can’t really compare Tanjiro’s case to Giyuu’s and Sanemi’s very easily. Besides the slightly different nature of his mark (which Muzan says will still kill him anyway if he becomes human again, but whether he says that based on a cosmic rule or historical precident, we don't know), we simply don’t know all the details of how Tanjiro's flesh has been affected by everything that happened to him in that two hour period. It seems safe to say that becoming a demon is what saved his life since it rebuilt his flesh and supercharged life back into him, but since he wasn’t a demon long enough to have fully integrated those new cells, the entirely reconstructed parts of him (his left arm and right eye) are essentially lifeless. However, there may still be some amount of reclaiming that his body did during his demon minutes, for the whole right side of his face should be paralyzed (yet he can still use it expressively), and there was probably internal damage throughout his entire body and other various injuries (like stabbing himself) which were repaired enough for him to survive. Had he been a demon longer (long enough that his body with Muzan’s memories likely would had broken down the medicine Kanao gave him), my guess is that he would had fully integrated these body parts, like how Nezuko gets to keep her legs despite all the times they were blown or chopped off.

But we also know that Tanjiro had to take a few months to recover (his visitors looked like they waited the whole three months before getting permission to see him), and that his condition allows him to live and work, but he generally is in a weakened state. Again, rather than only having borrowed (on multiple occasions) against his own lifespan, we don't know the extent of the damage and repair he's undergone.

While he’s got 25 as a historical benchmark to anticipate, and as you mention, he does seem to fully anticipate that early demise, his case is so unique that it could go in any direction. Tanjiro might live longer than 25, as this would give him time to pass on Hinokami Kagura to at least his eldest son, but like Tanjuro, he’d probably have a pretty weak constitution for the rest of his dwindling life. But also worth noting, the phrase is that they die by at least age 25. That means some of the Warring States era swordsmen probably died before that age. (｡•́︿•̀｡) I don't feel this is likely for Tanjiro, Giyuu, and Sanemi, but it is worth noting as a possibility.

[pinky-the-elephant-room]

Greatest

AN:  She meant fluff with implied smut for Katsuki.

Warning: Fluff, Angst, and Implied smut. And the use of Dynamight (I'm used to it now lol).

Bakugou Katsuki x Fem Reader

☄ ☄ ☄ ☄ ☄ ☄ ☄

Y/N looked at the rankings, a little bit in shock but also resignation. Katsuki ranked second again. It was only by a few points, but still, it wouldn’t matter to him. He was second, nonetheless. It was probably why he was late tonight. She had sent their kids to bed early just in case. Though their two girls (ages 8 and 5 respectively) complained and moaned, they still marched to bed when she gave them a stern look. It was a good thing too, Y/N didn’t want their girls to see their father when he was in that kind of mood. He was their hero, and she wanted to preserve that image. Girls needed a stable male role model. Sure, he cussed and yelled more than society would deem normal. But Katsuki was the love of her life. That meant loving the rougher parts of his personality too.

No doubt Katsuki would come home still wearing the aftereffects of a drinking session. As a rule, Dynamight didn’t drink. He always prioritized physical health, but there were exceptions like today, he would forgo his usual attitude.  She didn’t want her daughters to see their usually pristine father in a drunken stupor. The last time Deku beat Katsuki in the rankings, he came home intoxicated before hauling her off to bed. Way too handsy, he didn’t even get her bra off before collapsing and falling asleep. She let him exactly how she felt the next morning by giving him the silent treatment and making him leave the house without any breakfast.

Y/N jolted out of her thoughts when she heard the familiar noise of someone opening the door. Katsuki was not the type of person to yell out “Tadaima,” so she hurried to greet him in person. Or to give him a vomit bucket in case he got sick.

But to her shock and pleasant surprise, Katsuki was sober. There was no stench of alcohol or stumbling around. He calmly took off his shoes at the entrance before turning to look at her.

“D-do you want something to eat? I can warm up some dinner,” Y/N uttered, still beside herself.

“Not hungry. Where are the girls?” he asked as he hung up his coat.

“I put them to bed. They both have school tomorrow.”

With his usual scowl absent, he trudged through the living room and sat heavily on the sofa.

“Katsuki, are you ok?” Y/N asked tentatively, afraid to risk his ire.

He didn’t answer, and she stood there for a few minutes awkwardly, not knowing what to do. Just as she was about to turn around and maybe fetch some water, Katuski interrupted.

“I lost again. You know I thought this year would be mine,” he scoffed, “but of course, I lost to Deku again.”

“What do you think I’m doing wrong, Y/N? Is it because I don’t go around smiling like a jackass like he does or go around yelling “SMASH” like a downgraded version of All Might? I don’t fucking get it,” Kastuki said, feeling utterly exhausted.

“Do rankings matter that much to you?”

“Of course, it matters. It matters to everyone that is aiming to become the very best."

“But does being the best hero mean ranking number one on some billboard chart? Do you know how many people you’ve saved in just this month, let alone the entire year? Katsuki, some parents shouldn’t have been able to survive but are home right now with their kids because of you.”

“Rankings don’t matter to me because they’re arbitrary. You’ve been the number one hero for so many people already. No one is going to tell me otherwise. So, fuck Billboard!” she panted.

His vermillion eyes widened, and then Bakugou looked to the side before flashing a smirk at her.

“Look at you, mommy. Cussing in the house. Che, I should spank you.”

Y/N’s face reddened, and she squeaked out a scandalous “Katsuki!”

“Oy let’s go to bed,” he said, changing the subject abruptly.

“What. Why? So, you could spank me?” she asked, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.

Katsuki replied while grabbing her hand, “Nah, ask me some other night.”

As they went up the familiar stairs of their home, Y/N couldn’t help but wonder what was up with her husband. She expected him to be angrier, but Katsuki was acting calm and almost contemplative.

“Ne, anata. How come you didn’t drink today?”

Katsuki turned to look at her in surprise. “Did you want me to drink? I thought you would be happier to see me sober. Last time you ignored me all day, and I had to buy some food with shitty hair.”

“Oh, I’m sorry- “

“Fuck that. Don’t apologize. I deserved it.” With a soft kick from Katsuki, their bedroom door squeaked open.

With gentle eyes and delicate hands, he helped her undress while she helped him remove his pants. Most people didn’t think Dynamight with his infamy was capable of being kind. Y/N would learn it wasn’t that he was incapable but instead his kindness attributed to rudely criticizing in the guise of helping. But when Katsuki realized his efforts were instead driving her away further, he had to reevaluate himself. Such as recognizing if his ego was more important than the girl he cared for.

Katsuki hesitantly touched her as if asking Y/N for permission nonverbally. When they made love, it was always akin to pleasure and never pain. He was selfish, almost to a fault, but whenever she was concerned. His desires no longer seemed important. They held hands, and his forehead rested against her as he groaned with exuberance. Y/N soothed his back muscles patiently as they flexed underneath her fingers. He watched her almost obsessively, waiting for the moment she unraveled beneath him. Y/N never felt as close to her husband as in these quiet moments they shared alone. He was always so in tune with her needs.

When she lost herself in the raptures of pleasure, Y/N could vaguely make out the raw love in his eyes. In return, she stroked his coarse blond hair while Katsuki hid his face in her embrace. And if by chance Y/N felt tears and heard choked sobs, she only tightened her grip, waiting for him to ride his orgasm out.

It seemed her husband was too exhausted by the end, and he soon passed out.

Y/N watched his slumbering face with a small smile.

“I have faith you’ll be number one. I just know it,” she murmured before curling herself around his warm body.

A year from now on rankings were announced again by Billboard, Bakugou couldn’t muster the energy to care. Even when he was number one for the first time in his career, Katsuki chose to focus on his family instead.

[thesandbeneathmytoes]

Mayans Season 3

Soooooooooooooooo I have a lot of thoughts. Like, a lot. No one asked for this but some of you did express enthusiasm when I told you I was gonna go AWF, so here we go.

DISCLAIMER: I should perhaps also mention that this is simply a critique of the finished product — I understand, of course, there were other issues that affected the production of the season that perhaps didn’t affect seasons one and two, such as Covid and some of the confusion after the departure of Sutter. Some might say, however, that this season without Sutter was easier because there was less tension on set (I’m just re-counting what some of the cast have intimated). Ultimately, though, I really just want this to be a critique of the finished product, in the way that I assume all creators and artists want their work to be judged… Standing alone versus as a potential outcome of problems or challenges.

It’s probably clear by now that I wasn’t a huge fan of this season, so first I’ll start off with what I did like:

*SPOILERS, OBVIOUSLY*

• The cinematography was really nice. We got a lot of great wide shots that made us feel how expansive these worlds are, how lonely the desert, how wide the ocean, etc. They showed us the freedom that comes with this life but also how small it can make you feel when you get swallowed up in it. Scenes were also a lot less dark-lit, which was great cuz I didn’t have to mess with my screen’s contrast as much, so that was appreciated.

• There was also some beautiful color work this year. A lot of oranges and purples that I appreciated. EZ was almost always beautifully framed. We got some nice close ups of Angel as well. The scene with the tear running down his cheek was beautiful, which leads me to:

• THE ACTING: Danny Pino was far and away the best for me. His microexpressions, his ability to change emotions on a dime, his capacity for showing us the exact thoughts going through Miguel’s head, as well as his continued excellence at portraying Miguel’s duality and his divided loyalties (his family of origin vs. his current family, his American vs. Mexican heritage, his classy Cornell acapella-singing [!] self vs. his ruthless cartel persona) never ceases to impress me. Carla is amazing as well, she gave me chills in pretty much every scene. Sometimes I remember that she’s my age (30) and I’m just like holy shit, where did all this poise and presence and focus come from?? Couldnt be me! Honorable mentions include Clayton Cardenas (aforementioned crying scene, “WHERE THE FUCK IS RAMOS?!”), Michael Irby/Alexandra Barreto (diner scene), Felipe (telling Gaby to go scene...most scenes with Gaby), Emily Tosta, and Holland Roden. Richard Cabral did great too, although his storyline bored me so much that I couldn’t really pay attention to his excellent performance. Hope also was a distraction for me, but (much) more on this later. JD was pretty strong throughout, although some of his scenes (especially the ones with Gaby) were so poorly written that I imagine it was hard to make them anything but wooden (more on this later too, unfortunately). Sulem was hit or miss for me, but I felt like she hit her stride later in the season, and by the end, I fully bought it. MOMO RODRIGUEZ made me feel everything. There was a nuance and a depth to his performance that I was not expecting. It was a beautiful surprise to have a comic character (and a comedian) bring such an important role to the show. I loved that they made him symbolic of the heavy toll this life can take (I regret his death, but I think it was a wake up call) and how you can’t always escape your pain. And the fact that EZ was the one to try and tell him otherwise, emphasizing his own internal struggle, was especially poignant and heartbreaking, which now leads me to:

• THEMES: I liked a lot that we got to explore some of these character’s inner worlds more this season, and that we finally got to see the emotional consequences for what these characters have done and who they are. I never watched SOA, but from what y’all have said on here, it seems like more of those characters acted with impunity and were largely unphased by their own demons. It’s really nice to see the Mayans own up to what they’ve done and the lives they’ve chosen, from EZ, who wonders about the darkness inside of him and if he always was this way (see: theme of fate, later in this paragraph) to Alvarez, regretting what he’s done and who he has been (killing his own son) and wanting to live a new life, but not sure he deserves it. Angel’s monologue about “no happy endings in this town” was especially revelatory as well. It was also nice to see POCs, notably POC men, allowed to explore their emotions, cry, and lift back the curtain on what this kind of life does to your fucking soul. It humanizes the characters and liberates them from the Latinos = gangsters trope that we’re all so used to seeing, the very racist trope that ludicrously & infuriatingly suggests that POC men, especially Latinos, are almost meant to be gangsters and have no qualms about it whatsoever, that they are good at it because they are unburdened by the strict moral code that governs white people (LOL @1/6/2021). The theme of FATE was also drawn upon heavily, and I really liked that. It harkened back to S1 [Church of] Coco and the conversation he had with EZ on Celia’s floor, talking about how “everything that happens is what was meant to happen.” He insists that even though EZ thought he was supposed to be the “Golden Boy,” he ended up in the MC for a reason, maybe that other life was never an option for him at all. We now know that part of the reason his parents encouraged his Golden Boy persona so much was as a way to KEEP him from indulging his darker side. I liked the development of this theme a lot, but it did, unfortunately, also cause some problems, which leads me to:

PROBLEMS WITH MAYANS MC SEASON 3:

Characterization: I think this season suffered from what TV can often suffer from when a new person takes the helm, which is a lack of continuity from previous seasons… I understand, of course, that the characters were going through a lot this season, but I don’t think that warrants a total change in their personalities. The biggest offenders here, for me, were Angel and Coco. While we certainly had an idea that Angel, before he was with Adelita, was something of a hoe, I didn’t get the vibe that he was quite as insouciant or uncaring with his partners as he definitely seemed to be in Season 3. I understand why the show wanted to portray him that way—he was hurting—but it just seemed out of character to me that he would jump from partner to partner, so easily make intense commitments, and somehow be obsessed with creating a family life when that never really seemed to be his focus before… His focus on the baby in Season 2 seemed to be confined to Adelita. Coco, on the other hand, seemed to be very interested in his romantic relationship with Hope this season which really baffled me. Coco in previous seasons was almost the spiritual or kind of mystic element of the show – – his “Church of Coco” musings were, as I previously said, sort of a vehicle to highlight the element of fate as a theme in the show. For me, this made perfect sense as a place for him to be, partially because Richy himself is sort of woo woo (I mean this as the highest of compliments). To see him thrust into a somewhat arbitrary (for me) romantic relationship felt so forced, not only because their sex scene was incredibly dry and uncomfortable to watch (LOL), but also because it just didn’t make sense that Coco would risk everything for this woman he knew nothing about… And even at the expense of his relationship with Letty. As @drabbles-mc mentioned, why spend all this time developing Coco’s relationship with Letty when you’re just gonna destroy it? It feels disrespectful to the writing that has gone before… Speaking of, I want to address the EZ equals psychopath road that we now seem to be going down. As I mentioned earlier, I’m glad that they addressed that his scholarliness and the encouragement of that by his parents was a tactic to distract him from the “darkness” inside of him, however, it feels strange that all of a sudden they are intimating that he has a very very deep darkness inside of him that we didn’t really see in previous seasons. I suppose you could make the argument that it was there before, however I would’ve liked it to be revealed a little bit slower and perhaps have more references to it in previous seasons if you’re going to make this case now. It just feels a little incongruous to what we know about EZ that he is a psycho on the inside… Because that’s what they seem to be suggesting — that he’s dark and can’t be anything but dark. I guess I just would’ve liked to see a more gradual reveal of that versus him saying that he’s always been dark and he knows because of a Goya painting? Seems weird. Like, how is he Dexter all of a sudden? Finally, the Nestor/Álvarez situation at the end: are you telling me that Alvarez really would give a fuck about the Mayans after Bishop betrayed him, especially at the expense of his own life if Miguel figured out that he didn’t do what was asked of him? And how is Nestor, who has always been undyingly faithful to Miguel, all of a sudden going to flake out on his duties, especially when he knows how important this is to Miguel???

Writing/storylines: So, to the extent that this is a separate issue than just simple characterization, I would say that this was the biggest problem for me this season. Lazy writing was a real issue for me and that it took me out of the plot and the moment many times. As I mentioned before, there were some scenes with Gaby and EZ that just felt so stilted that I really couldn’t take them seriously – – the scene in the church comes to mind. In addition to this, there were some plotlines that just felt tired or unnecessary, or didn’t link up. The Angel/Hank/Nails storyline, for example, just seems so boring… We just did a unexpected pregnancy storyline last season with Angel – – why did we need one again? Have they just run out of ideas for him? And to put Nails into the position of baby mama just feels kind of disrespectful to her character. Does every woman in this show need to have her uterus or sex life be a plot line? Bishop is another character that I feel like was done a little bit dirty the season. While I previously mentioned that I adored the scene with him in the diner, I was confused by the purpose of his dead son storyline. As emotional as it was and as great as the performances that it produced were, it didn’t really tie into anything else in the season. I understand that they were trying to give some background to Bishop’s character, but it just seemed like kind of a one-off considering it lasted for a few episodes and then was never brought up again. Perhaps they were trying to show us that everyone lost family or had to compromise something to be part of the MC, but if that was the case, then I would’ve liked to see it be tied to his decisions or his story later on. Maybe they could’ve done something like show that his dedication to the club was because they are the only family he has now that he lost his son? Or that he is wildin’ out now and tryna be the one king because he has nothing left to lose? Idk, maybe that was implied but I certainly didnt catch it — it would’ve been nice to have a more explicit connection there, because to me it just kinda felt like they showed us his pain and then forgot about it and just made him this crazed bloodthirsty madman. I also want to talk a little bit about undelivered upon promises – – Elgin said in a review before the season came out that we would get to see a little bit more into the backstory of each character and why they joined the MC – as I mentioned before, we got a little more about different characters lives but we didn’t necessarily see the why, which is something I really would’ve liked to know. I also was hoping for more social commentary than in fact happened this season – – the new intro seemed to suggest that we would get more of an emphasis on Latinx history or culture or social clashes, but in fact, such references were few and far between, as far as I could tell (although totally possible I missed some stuff). One scene, or rather, one line, that I really really enjoyed was when Gaby said “I risked my life to come here and I try to survive every day and you choose to flirt with death. That’s the privilege of being an American.” I found this line SO powerful, but it was almost a throw-away, and I really wish it had been touched upon more. I was looking forward to learning more about this and having it portrayed in such a Latinx-centered way would’ve been cool to see.

Ok, this is likely to be the most unpopular section of this post (for those of you who are even still around LOL), but I’m including a list of all the plotholes, inconsistencies, or unexplained events from this season, of which there were many. If anyone has an answer to these, please let me know:

Taza and Riz: I’m supposed to believe that he killed Riz just because he wanted to start a war with Palo? Because palo killed his lover over 20 years ago?? Like, could he not have started a war with Palo without involving Riz? And when he said “I didn’t know how many people would get hurt?” What??? How could you possibly have thought that a. Murdering your brother and b. Starting a war with the VM over a personal issue wouldn’t result in carnage?

Dead SOA ppl: why did Chibs never come calling to find out who killed Thomas (?) last season? Or Montez? I know that Montez wasn’t actually killed by the Mayans but he was placed in the Mayans parking lot or whatever so wouldn’t that raise some suspicions??? All that they said about Thomas was that he disappeared and the Sons didn’t know what happened? @starrynite7114

What was the point of the whole Lobos Sonora thing? Why did Palo need to talk to them to get involved with the Tucson mayans? Could he not have just gone to Canche himself? Was this something that they were doing to set up next season? If so, it seems like a long walk to get there…

Speaking of Canche, how the fuck did that cockroach survive a bomb?

Who tipped off border patrol on the night that they tried to move the drugs from the tunnel? Was it the girl in jail? And how come we never heard from her again? Just one of many plotlines that was started and then never revisited.

The Miguel/Felipe thing: We got so close but never actually got there. Are we gonna have to wait a whole other season for this?

Speaking of paternity, who is actually the father of Adelitas baby? I’m kind of OK with not knowing if the baby is alive or dead but I’m ready to know who the father was… Again, I don’t wanna wait another season to wrap this up.

Additionally, did Adelita actually hurt Potter’s family? Did she kill them? It was very unclear.

They essentially said that Potter shut down the border out of spite after the Adelita thing happened… What the fuck does that mean? Are you trying to tell me that a government official can just randomly shut down the border whenever he wants? And what was it about the Adelita thing that pissed him off? That he captured her? That EZ and Angel got one over on him? I really don’t understand… Angel said in the first episode that “the shutdown affected me more than anyone,” ostensibly because he lost his partner and child, but I just don’t see how Adelita and the shut down were related??

CHUCKY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!111!!!!! GTFOH with that weak-ass excuse.

Coco storyline:

Was he never gonna find out that Hope was the one who took the picture of him and set him up?

What about the fact that Letty essentially conned him into killing his mom?

Also, did Isaac really die? And what about the reaper tattoo on his side? Was he part of SOA? Was that ever going to be addressed? The story just wasn’t wrapped up at all and I cannot HANDLE any more Meth Mountain next season.

I guess my point in all of this is that I don’t have a problem with the cliffhangers per say – – but there’s a difference between “oh this is an exciting unknown that we can speculate about until next season” and “this is just messy writing where many story threads were begun this year and then never finished” or “we were supposed to wrap up storylines from two seasons ago and we just didn’t.” The latter two just feel sloppy to me, and I feel like that’s a lot of what went on this season. The whole show this year felt both slow and overstuffed, both uneventful and packed at the end. Perhaps it was a pacing issue, a problem of Elgin wanting to distinguish himself and pack so much in and make it so different from previous seasons that he bit off more than he could chew and it all became unfocused. As I read somewhere else, the problem when you have this many unfinished storylines is that they weigh you down for the next season – the writers now have to either spend the majority of next season addressing these questions or just forget about them and pretend they never happened, which feels disrespectful to the audience. I guess my hope is just that Elgin will find his footing and be able to deliver us a more cohesive, well-paced season next year. I fully believe he is capable of this, and if he continues to deliver on the things that did work about this season, we should be in good shape.

Tagging some ppl who have expressed interest in my thoughts: @yourwonkywriter @angelreyesgirl @megapeacelovemusic-blog @starrynite7114 @joannasteez @brattyfics @mareethequeen

[gffa]

JEDI PADAWANS IN CANON:  Surprisingly, we actually have very little about how the Jedi culture works in canon, though, we have the broad strokes of it, enough that I think you can get an idea of the general arc of things!  This post will be based on canon, of course, as Canon and Legends are basically separate continuities, so stuff like “the Jedi age out at 13 if no one picks them as a Master” has never been evidenced in canon. I also have TAKING A CLOSER LOOK AT THE JEDI IN CANON, a meta work on AO3 that’s been about collecting together and organizing everything I can find on the Jedi of canon, but let’s talk specifically about the path to becoming a Jedi Padawan! THE PATH OF A YOUNGLING TO A JEDI: YOUNGLING/INITIATE: - The Jedi younglings are adopted generally in the age range of about three years old, give or take.  It’s evidenced by Wee Dunn (the little Rodian boy that Cad Bane kidnapped) that there’s an adjustment period with the biological family (if the family wishes it), given that his bio-mom says, “Master Ropal said the day would come for him to go to the Temple, but not for some time.” - The terms “Youngling” and “Initiate” seem relatively interchangeable? - In Dooku: Jedi Lost, Dooku says:  “Like most of the Order, I was brought to the Temple by a Seeker, a Jedi who was tasked to scour the galaxy for Force-sensitive infants.” -  “On arrival at the Temple, Initiates are sorted into clans, an arbitrary grouping in many ways, but one that is supposed to foster an atmosphere of trust and kinship.“  This seems to work pretty well, indicated by how even the very serious Dooku is like, “[....] by us and every other Initiate that likes to gossip by the light of a glow lantern late at night.” to show the lighter hearted aspects of the pile of younglings gossping at night. (Dooku: Jedi Lost) - Not a ton is known about their time in the creche (which is indeed called the creche, according to M&A -- “[Qui-Gon]’d spent his last night in the younglings’ crèche laughing with his friends, imagining all the adventures he would have, and practicing with his lightsaber in the sparring room until Master Yaddle ordered him to bed.“) or what that means to their Jedi Path, other than that, at some point, they go on The Gathering to get their kyber crystal from Ilum, if they can pass the test of looking inward, facing their fears, and hearing the song of the crystal meant specifically for them. This sacred ritual doesn’t seem to be tied to doing it with their Master, as The Clone Wars and the Age of the Republic comic show that they go in groups and are supervised by another Jedi (Ahsoka in the case of “The Gathering”, with Yoda there on Ilum, Huyang watching over the groups in both TCW and the comic), as well as the group of younglings (Katooni, Petro, Byph, Ganodi, and Gungi) are seen practicing with their lightsabers in Master Sinube’s class while Anakin and Barriss have their fight across the Temple roof. - We see Yoda instructing the younglings in Attack of the Clones, but it’s unclear if they’re using their own lightsabers or training sabers (which the Temple has, according to  Star Wars: Lightsabers - A Guide To Weapons of The Force.  (I’m presuming that they’re training sabers, they look too young to be ready for The Gathering, but canon hasn’t specified either way.) - We do get some broad strokes of the kind of schooling they have while they’re younglings:        - Jedi younglings (at least the diurnal ones) wake at dawn to meditate on the three pillars–the Force, Knowledge, and Self-Discipline.  Then they go to the refectory for lunch, where Dooku always likes to sit next to Sifo-Dyas.        - Qui-Gon says, “Qui-Gon whispered, 'The dark side?' He knew it was a thing all beings carried within them, a part of himself he would learn to guard against—the crèche masters had taught him all that.” (Master & Apprentice) showing that the creche masters also taught them while they were there.        - They have group classes together, where we see teachers giving lessons on how to meditate or other philosophy lessons or how to connect to the Force (this is backed up by a lot of Kanan’s early teachings to Ezra, what he starts with as the foundations/basics), which presumably Padawans can still be part of, given that Qui-Gon still goes to classes after becoming Dooku’s Padawan.  [x]        - They have regular classes and some of what we know are:  Levitation classes, Force-Sculpting classes, Galactic History classes, Jedi History classes, Animal Kinship/Beast Control, and Unarmed Combat.                (”The duties of a Padawan varied greatly. Certain kinds of instruction were universal—meditation, lightsaber training—and were studied both in groups at the Temple and privately with one’s Master. But those Masters ranged widely in talents and temperament, which meant that the assignments they gave were diverse, too.” --Master & Apprentice)       - They have class field trips of some sort--Obi-Wan has a class of younglings (that Caleb is part of) on a field trip to teach them about the Jedi Beacon.  While this seems to be within the Temple itself, we saw in Dooku: Jedi Lost that several younglings went with the Jedi to a Celebration Festival as part of a group who would do demonstrations for people, too.       - They’re given homework (Qui-Gon works on his while lounging in Dooku’s quarters) and have class projects (”Obi-Wan could scan nearly the entire lower level of the Jedi Archives. Jocasta Nu sat at her desk, patiently reviewing some file or other; a handful of younglings struggled through a dense historical holo, probably for a class project”) -- Master & Apprentice. - Whatever Katooni and the others are doing in the beginning of “The Gathering” with the dance-style moves is unclear, whether it’s a class that Master Sinube is teaching or if it’s a ceremony of some kind that relates to the upcoming Gathering, who knows!  But it’s clearly important and overlaid with the announcer saying, “The trials are hard. Tests must be passed. But none is as important as The Gathering. It is then that a Jedi’s path will truly begin….”  (Though, this could be in reference to the trials they’re about to face on Ilum which are hard, rather than that the dance class is a trial, it’s never stated either way.)  [x] PADAWANS: - There doesn’t seem to be anything on how Padawans are chosen as a usual path!  In Dooku: Jedi Lost, there’s a ceremonial lightsaber tournament, but the wording never quite directly says that it’s specifically for Master to choose their Apprentices, as well as in Kanan: The Last Padawan, Depa directly asks young Caleb herself.  In The Clone Wars movie, Anakin is assigned Ahsoka, which doesn’t seem to surprise either Obi-Wan (who may have planned this) or Anakin in the sense of “wait, they don’t just assign Padawans!”, only that she was being assigned to him. Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon’s partnership seems to be a bit of both:  “Don’t you see, Obi-Wan? They knew you’d rebel against any Master you worked with. So they made sure you wound up with a Jedi who almost never followed the rules.”  (Master & Apprentice) This seems to indicate that it happened in a myriad of ways, whether a Master took notice of a youngling at the tournament or bonded with them in another way or the Council decided to assign a pairing. - When a youngling becomes a Padawan, there seems to be some conversations between the crechemasters and the new Master:  “Obi-Wan said, 'You know, I never had problems with that as a youngling. Being independent, I mean. I broke rules right and left. They even called me rebellious. Probably the Masters were surprised anyone was willing to take me on as an apprentice.’  In fact, Qui-Gon had been warned about this very thing. He’d long since assumed that the crèche masters’ concern was overcautious.” (Master and Apprentice) - There’s no set age when a Youngling becomes a Padawan.       - Dooku was 16 years old when Yoda chose him to be a Padawan, Sifo-Dyas was 16 when Lene Kostana chose him.  For a brief while, Dooku didn’t think he would be chosen this year and would have to wait awhile longer, as well as another 16 year old Initiate wasn’t ready and did wind up having to wait another year.  (Dooku: Jedi Lost)       - Obi-Wan was chosen at 13 and Qui-Gon at 12, but both were considered young for it.  (Master & Apprentice)       - Caleb Dume was chosen at 13, but was also considered to be surprisingly young for it.  (Kanan: The Last Padawan)       - Ahsoka was assigned at 14, but Anakin expressed surprise that she was even “old enough to be a Padawan!?” (The Clone Wars movie) - Teaching seems to be a communal thing with the Jedi.  While their Master is the final authority (in as much as anyone is an authority over someone else--Ahsoka argues and doesn’t really get that much pushback on how Master Skywalker isn’t the one who should decide when she risks her life, that’s her choice), we see Ahsoka is taught by Anakin, Obi-Wan, Yoda, Plo Koon, Aayla Secura, Luminara Unduli, Tera Sinube, and Jocasta Nu. In The Citadel arc in TCW, Ahsoka says that Master Plo assigned her to the team, which Anakin doesn’t object to as being impossible because she’s his Padawan.  Further, we also see communal teaching elements in Dooku: Jedi Lost when Lene is a frequent teacher to Dooku after he becomes Yoda’s Padawan. JEDI KNIGHTS: - While we never see any official Knighting ceremonies in the time of the Jedi Order, there are two examples post-Jedi Purge that use similar enough rituals that it’s a reasonably safe bet they were used by the Order as well:       - In Rebels “Shroud of Darkness”, when Kanan and Ezra and Ahsoka enter the Lothal Jedi Temple, he has to face a vision of the Grand Inquisitor revealing that he was once a Temple Guard.  In facing him, Kanan passes the test, which was Yoda directing the vision (via behind the scenes commentary by Henry Gilroy) to give Kanan a trial, which he then uses the vision to gently sweep the lightsaber over Kanan and has the vision say, “By the right of the Council, by the will of the Force, Kanan Jarrus, you may rise. [....]  It means you are what I once was. A Knight of the Jedi Order.” [x]       - In Jedi: Fallen Order, Cere Junda (once a Jedi Knight herself) tells Cal to kneel and makes the same gesture, sweeping the lightsaber over him, and says:  "By the right of the Council, by the will of the Force, Cal Kestis.  Rise, Jedi Knight." [x] THAT’S IT, THAT’S PRETTY MUCH EVERYTHING WE KNOW ABOUT THE JEDI PADAWAN PATH.  There’s really no one set way of doing things--“Every master trains their Padawan in their own way.“ (Jedi: Fallen Order)--but you can see the shape of how things are approached within the Jedi Culture!

[diddlesanddoodles]

DUMPLING ch 53

Welcome Back everyone! 

Night fell upon the camp as they finished their meals. Keral and Farris hammered out a rough strategy, as the ranger was certain they would come upon the main estate sometime the following day.

“My hope is we run into the damn house by mid-day,” he said, twirling a stick between his fingers. “We’ll get our message sent out to Warren and might borrow some of the men there fer an escort back to the castle or wait fer one to be sent up here to collect us. What I want to avoid is missing the estate all together, because just a few miles passed here we’d start to hit the top of the moors. And if ye think trudging through the woods is unpleasant, you’ve never had to hike through the moors during winter.”

“How long would it take for a message to get to the castle?” Nenani asked.

“Dependin’ on what variety of birds he keeps, could be as little as three hours,” Keral explained. “But if all goes as I hope it does and we get a message sent tomorrow afternoon, then Warren should be readin’ it by late tomorrow night.”

“I just hope he manages to keep his temper and not send out the army after us,” Jae said. His shoulders were hunched up, and he stared down at the dirt, not quite looking into the fire.

“Aye,” Keral agreed, grim-faced. “Probably the one bad trait he got from his father. Doesn’t happen often, but if he gets right and proper mad, Warren could put old grumpy britches here to shame.”

Keral jerked his head towards Farris and earned a swift punch to the shoulder. He winced, rubbing the offended area.

“Eh? Ye see that?”

“Like I said before,” Farris replied, his expression teasing even as he held up his fist in warning. “Still have a few of these in reserve fer Mum.”

“I’m gonna have to send her a letter and clear all this nonsense up.”

“Ye should. One of these is fer only writing to her three times a bloody year.”

“I have a very demandin’ job. Sometimes it don’t allow fer letter writing.”

“Ye have time to distill that whiskey of yers but not to write to yer own Mum. Ye at least send her a bottle?”

“I’ll have ye know I use that time to write performance reviews. I ain’t just sittin’ on my arse and pickin’ my toes. And ‘a course I send her some!”

“Wonderful. Then ye should have no trouble adding in a letter fer her then too.”

Keral glared at his brother. “Just what are ye wantin’ me to tell her? ‘Hello Mum. Arrested a few fellas yesterday fer trafficking and murder. Issued seventeen court summons to folks who’ve been caught planting traps on their land and some on other folks’ land too. But good news is that it ain’t as bad as it used to be. Still haven’t caught the bastard we think is supplying the traffickers with funds and means to be moving all these poor little sods across county lines, but who knows. Tomorrow’s another day. Love yer darlin’ baby boy.’ Somethin’ like that, eh? Nice and cheerful news fer our ol’ Mum to be reading. All the things her son gets up to.”

Farris stared but did not say anything. He studied the face he had known best since birth, and below the thick beard and jokes and grins he recognized the frustration and pain in Keral’s words. He reached out and Keral leaned away as though expecting another punch, but Farris merely placed his hand upon his brother’s shoulder and squeezed.

“I ain’t downplayin’ yer work, Keral. That’d be the last thing I’d ever say to ye. You of all folks...I’d never tell ye yer work wasn’t important,” he said. “I get why ye wouldn’t want to tell her all that. Gods above, ye know I do. But it might do both her and you a bit of good to just send a letter fer the pure sake of it. Come up fer a breath of air.”

Keral took a moment to regard his brother seriously before saying, “If I promise to write to her when we get back, will ye stop punchin’ me?”

Farris grinned and gave a half-hearted shrug. “Sure, I will. Soon as ye write that damned letter.”

……………………………….

Nenani pushed aside her blankets to adjust her belt, and the motion caught Keral’s eyes.

“Little attached to that dagger if yours, eh?” Keral asked, the side of his mouth twitching up into a smirk. Nenani met his eye then turned away, feeling called out.

“Just seems like it’s a better idea to have it around then not,” she replied.

Keral laughed, but Farris was nodding emphatically. “Not a bad idea to my mind.”

“S’why didn’t ye give that old goat of a mage a good stab fer nabbin’ ye?” Keral asked, his eyes still shining with mirth.

Nenani shrugged. “Didn’t really get a chance to. And those bubbles are tough.”

“She tried to stab it and it didn’t work,” Jae threw in. He, Haiyer, and Nenani were all bunched together near the base of a tree. Haiyer, having eaten both his potato and piece of bread, was staring off into space with distinctly droopy eyes.

Nenani leaned forward to frown at Jae. “Yes it did.”

“No, it didn’t,” he answered back. “Remember? You tried to stab it, it didn’t work, and then you did that weird magic thing and made the blade glow.”

Nenani’s expression lit up with recognition. “Oh yeah! I did do that.”

Jae grinned sardonically at her. “Yeah, and then you fell on me.”

The excitement in her expression died instantly and she wilted with embarrassment. “Oh yeah...”

Her shame was felt all the more acutely when both Farris and Keral fell into a raucous bout of laughter.  It wasn’t too long after that Keral announced he would take the first watch, and they settled in for the night. Farris, not being very picky about his sleeping arrangements, propped himself against a tree truck, crossed his arms over his chest, and closed his eyes. The three humans adjusted their blankets before laying down. It seemed as though it only took a few moments before Haiyer was sound asleep beside her, but for Nenani sleep seemed illusive.

Staring up at the underside of the canopy, she watched the shadows shiver and dance with the movement of the campfire. Though they had had a pleasant dinner and evening, she still never let go of the notion that something, or someone, was watching them. She could just make out Keral’s outline from his position just outside the clearing and beyond the reach of the fire’s light. His blue coat allowed him to blend in very well with the dark.

“Ye should try and sleep, lil’un,” Farris told her in a whisper, and, craning her neck, she saw his eyes were still closed. “Yer fidgetin’ again.”

“Sorry,” she whispered back and tried to settle into her blanket. There came a sigh and then the rustling of leaves that drew her eyes back to Farris. She saw that he was leaning forward with his hands reaching out for her, and a feeling of yearning pulled at her. 

“Come on,” he said with a thin smile. “Up ye get.”

As carefully as she could, Nenani got to her feet, still clutching a corner of her blanket, and Farris scooped her up. Leaning back against the tree, he settled her on his chest and laid a hand over her. Though the nagging feeling was still there, she felt far more at peace, and as she laid her head on his chest, Nenani felt the first tugs of sleep.

………………………………..

They set out the following morning, just as the first splashes of color could be made out through gaps in the trees, a little more refreshed and eager to get back to the castle. Keral led them through a weaving path that, to Nenani’s eye, seemed aimless and arbitrary. It was as though Keral was a hound, trying to get a good sniff of his query while following an invisible trail that only he could make out.

They found the first body only two hours after starting off.

At the bottom of a large tree, nearly invisible within the twisting roots, was a face of a young man. Dark of hair, pale faced, and – curiously enough – there was a notch taken from the top edge of his left ear. Almost as though it had been bitten off by a small creature. Haiyer had been the one to spot the body when, seemingly out of the blue, he told Keral, “There’s a sleeping man over there.”

Keral extracted the small prince from his pocket and surrendered him to Farris. Turning his head, he said to Jae in a quiet voice, “Best get down too, lad. Not sure what we just happened across, but ye may not want to see.”

Looking nearly as pale as the body in the roots, Jae climbed up over the ranger’s shoulder so that Keral could pluck him up and set him back down on his own feet. Jae turned to go stand closer to Farris as Keral moved forward towards the body.

When he was close enough to study it properly, Keral only found more questions. The body was fully encased in the roots as though they had grown around and under it, only the man’s head peeking out. But the time that would have taken to occur naturally would have seen the flesh and muscle of the corpse succumb to rot and decay, to say nothing of the scavengers that would have made an easy meal of it.

“Whatever this is, it's not natural,” Keral said, keeping his gaze affixed to the dead human. “This stinks of magic interference.”

“Ye think whatever did this poses any kind ‘a threat?” Farris asked.

“Hard to say for sure, but I’d rather not find out,” Keral answered as he rose back to his feet. “Best we move on before whatever is responsible for this comes around.”

Less than ten minutes later, they stumbled upon two more laying together at the base of a tree. There were not nearly as many roots as the first, and the pair looked to be a mother and child. The woman was middle aged, but thin and sickly-looking, with hollowed cheeks and sunken eyes. She looked far more corpse-like than the first or the smaller one to which she clung. Round-faced with thick curls of dark hair was a small girl of perhaps five or six. She looked as though she were merely sleeping in the woman’s arms.

“Why are they sleeping like that?” Haiyer asked, trying to peek around Farris’s fingers to get a better look, but he turned his body and Haiyer made a sound of annoyance.

“They’re not sleeping,” Keral said as he crouched above the pair, staring down with a grim face and hard eyes. “Same as the last.”

“Just what have we come across?” Farris asked, his eyes bouncing around as though expecting the trees to answer him.

The trees said nothing. But someone else did.

“You should not be here,” said a voice from high above them. It came out like the viscous hiss of a disturbed cat. Their eyes moved up to scan the trees, looking for the source. “This is hallowed ground. Only the blessed may walk here. You’re filthy. And I smell fire on you.”

“Who are you?” Keral asked.

“Someone who wishes to see you leave,” the voice replied. Keral’s head swiveled to his right and he stared up at a particular tree. “You’ve disturbed the garden.”

Farris snorted, not having seen Keral’s line of sight, and continued to look about. “Garden? Looks more like a graveyard.”

“They are the same,” replied the voice. “Death is the road that returns us all to the green mother.”

“So you did all this?” Keral asked.

There was no answer.

Farris looked as though he wished to reply, but Keral silenced him with a hand and then said to the voice, “We’re just looking for a house. Big house. Belongs to a Vhasshalan lord by the name of Brennan. Think you might be so kind as to point us the right direction and we’ll see ourselves out?”

The voice did not answer right away and the silence was heavy,

“Follow the smell of blood,” it suggested at last. “You can’t miss it.”

Keral’s expression hardened and his lips drew thin. “My nose ain’t as good as it used to be. How about a heading?”

A pause.

“You’re too far east. Two fingers past the sun at noon and walk straight. The white moss grows on the north side.”

“Thank you,” said the ranger with a bow of his head.

“A warning. If you are still here come nightfall, the others will not be as kind, and they might decide to add you to the garden. And also, do not let the little one eat anymore of the ironwood sap.”

“What?” he asked, looking back at Haiyer. “Why not?”

“It will weaken his magic.”

“The little one doesn’t have any magic.”

There was a long silence and then a rustle of branches. Keral’s head swiveled up to his left and then he saw him:  human, dressed in grayish green and brown clothes that helped him all but melt into the tree bark behind him. He was young and thin limbed, but with large brown eyes. Across his forehead was a smudge of ash. He met Keral’s gaze without fear.

“I forget sometimes how distant you giants have made yourselves from the earth. Strange you cannot feel his magic. I could the moment you all stepped inside my forest,” he said and then pointed to Nenani, his brow furrowing. “And the smell of fire on that one there is so pungent I was convinced the woods had caught flame.”

“Thank you. I’ve got one more question,” Keral said, gesturing to the dead woman and child. “The notches in their ears. Your lot do that?”

The boy scowled. “They’ve been marked. For what purpose, I cannot tell you. But they all have them. Their spirits are weakened and often soiled when they come here. The roots purify them so they may find peace in the hereafter.”

“You call that purifying their souls? Looks like fancy fertilizer to me, boy,” Farris said with a sneer. “Disrespectful. Coverin’ them all in roots.”

The boy did not react to the accusation. “You are of the mountain. I do not expect a rock to understand the ways of a tree. The roots preserve their mortal shell. If you were to remove them, their bodies would crumble like dirt.”

“So you collect dead people in this garden of yours?”

The boy cocked his head and regarded Farris with a curious expression as though he had just decided something. 

“This is how we remember them. Honor them. Mourn them. You have your ways and we have our own. It does not change the meaning. Giving love to the loveless. Care where there was neglect. Peaceful forever sleep where before there were only endless nightmares.”

Farris’s frown deepened and he opened his mouth to reply, but the boy slipped behind the trunk of the tree and was gone. The giant stared and then snorted in disdain, rolling one shoulder. Still inside the pack, Nenani watched the spot where the boy had gone and knew he had left. The unsettling sensation of being watched left as though it had never been. What a strange person, she thought. She remembered what he had said.

That she smelled like fire.

“Who the hell was that?” Jae asked in a low voice, his eyes still watching the trees for any sign that the boy would return.

“Don’t know,” Farris said. His eyes fell back to the dead woman and child, entangled in the roots. “But he has strange notions I don’t much care for. I’ll be glad to leave.”

Keral walked up alongside his brother and nudged his elbow with his own. “Well, at least we managed to get a heading out of the lil’ fella.”

Farris did not move or speak and Keral’s grin faded.

“Farris?”

The kitchen master’s eyes snapped to attention and he turned to his brother. “Let’s go.”

Keral nodded. “Alright.”

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

BONUS ART!

[mikauzoran]

Ladrien/Adrienette: Drunk Ladybug on My Balcony? Yeah. This is Fine.: Chapter Twelve

Read it on AO3: Drunk Ladybug on My Balcony? Yeah. This is Fine.: Chapter Twelve: The Realization

Adrien scooted away, back to a suitable distance on the picnic blanket. “Um…so…maybe we should talk about, like, normal things now?” he suggested, grabbing a petit four from the tiered tea tray.

“That’s probably a good idea,” Ladybug chuckled nervously, scratching at her cheek as she tried to take deep breaths to get her racing heart rate and flaming blush down. “What would you like to talk about?”

“You,” he replied immediately.

Her blush only worsened. “What about me?”

“Personal things…but not incredibly personal things,” he gave a temperate response, reaching but not pushing too hard. “You know. Things like your favourite book, favourite movie, favourite colour. What kind of music you listen to. Hobbies. Tell me about you.”

“Only if you tell me about you too,” she haggled.

He chuckled as his own cheeks started to heat up. “You haven’t had enough of getting to know the real Adrien Agreste yet? I would have thought I’d have scared you off a dozen times over by now.”

She shook her head and smiled shyly. “Definitely not. What you’ve told me has only made me more intrigued.”

He gave her an appraising once-over, debating before finally giving in. “All right. So long as you’re not sick of me yet.”

“Never,” she assured. “First question?”

“What colour are your bedroom walls painted?” he inquired.

She quirked an eyebrow at the unexpected question and took a minute before answering cautiously. “…Pink. Why?”

“What shade?” he pressed, wanting to be able to envisage it exactly.

“Light pink. Like cherry blossoms,” she granted, giving in to his curiosity. “Why do you ask?”

“Just wondering about the girl on the other side of the mask,” he confessed. “Sometimes I think about what she’s like, what kinds of activities she does in her free time, what kinds of things she surrounds herself with.”

She shrugged, shaking her head as she looked away. “I don’t know if I’m worth that much thought,” she chuckled self-deprecatingly. “I’m just a normal girl. Not that interesting.”

“You’re interesting to me,” he informed gently, a soft affection in his eyes that made her chest feel tight.

“Oh…. I…I’m glad,” she managed with a bashful smile, wishing she could get across what his words truly meant to her. “Well…in that case…what’s your next question?”

The rest of their rooftop picnic continued in that vein with Ladybug sharing that she was a huge fan of Jagged Stone but had developed a liking for the music XY was putting out since he cut ties with his father’s label and started collaborating with Luka Couffaine.

Adrien confessed that he didn’t do well with scary movies because they gave him nightmares and made him afraid to shower.

“What horror movie had anything to do with showers?” Ladybug replied quizzically. “You mean because of the shower scene in The Shining or Psycho?”

He shook his head. “I’ve never seen those movies, actually, and the trailer for The Shining freaked me out enough that I feel like I’ve experienced enough of it for one lifetime,” he chuckled, rubbing at the back of his neck. “It’s just…I feel so vulnerable in there. Naked. Alone. I feel like a sitting duck. Anything could come and get me while I was defenseless. I’m really easily startled after I see a horror movie, so I’m always anxious about showering for at least a week afterwards.”

Ladybug nodded, trying (and failing) not to picture Adrien in his shower complete with a stereotypically sexy backing track. It also took some effort not to volunteer to sit in his bathroom with him while he showered to protect him after he next watched a horror film.

She was very tempted to suggest watching a horror movie as part of their date so that she could make the offer.

Instead, she replied, “I can see why you would feel that way. I’m always jumpy after watching horror films too” like a normal, non-psychotic person.

They cleaned up their picnic and stowed the leftovers in the wicker basket, tucking it back into the seam between the roof and one of the small white domes topping the church for Ladybug to return for later.

She got out her yoyo and surreptitiously dropped them down into an alley a few streets over so that they could nonchalantly walk out and join the crowd of visitors enjoying the iconic sights and locals going about their daily lives.

“Um…I thought we could do some window shopping?” Ladybug tentatively suggested. “Walk around? People watch? Browse? It’s a nice day, so… I mean, I know it’s a little touristy, but—”

“—That sounds great,” he cut her off with a wide grin, slipping his hand into hers. “I actually haven’t seen much of Paris, despite growing up here,” he confessed sheepishly. “I’ve always been a little…um…”

He tried to think of a nice way to say, “held prisoner”.

“…sheltered, I guess, so I wouldn’t be opposed to playing tourist, if you don’t mind.”

“Oh. No. Sure!” she agreed, a little flustered by the proximity of his radiant smile in the narrow alley as well as the weight and warmth of his hand in hers. “I’m happy so long as you’re happy.”

“I’m happy just being with you,” he countered with a wink, not noticing how she turned into a puddle of goo in response.

He gave her hand a squeeze and turned to guide them out of the alley and onto the cobbled street where visitors from all over the globe were moving from one shop to the next.

They too began to browse, chuckling at the whacky souvenirs for sale in shop after shop: cheap plastic trinkets, shirts, hats, magnets, shot glasses, snow globes…

Adrien held up a Paris-themed oven mitt in black, white, pink, and grey. “This is actually kind of cute,” he chuckled, musing, “It reminds me of Marinette…. I wonder if she’d like it.”

“I think she’d like anything if it was from you,” Ladybug sighed, heart filling to the brim once more as his thoughts drifted to her civilian identity.

Why had she never seen how much he liked her, how much Marinette meant to Adrien? She’d been blinded by his not obviously reciprocating her romantic feelings, so she’d missed out on how much he truly cared for her.

“You think?” he hummed, pleased at her response. “Maybe, but it’s not really practical. I’m sure she has dozens of oven mitts already with her parents being bakers, but… Could you do me a favor?” He looked to her with earnest eyes that made her gulp.

She bit her tongue to hold back the automatic, “Anything for you” that wanted to come out. “Uh, yeah. Sure. What do you need?”

“Could you take a picture and send it to me so I can text it to Marinette later? I left my phone at home so that my family couldn’t track the GPS,” he informed sheepishly.

“Oh, yeah. Sure,” she readily agreed, taking a peek around to make sure that no one was watching before she flipped open her yoyo and snapped a quick picture, forwarding it to him.

“Thanks, Nelle,” he expressed warmly, as if she had fulfilled one of Princess Kaguya’s impossible quests.

“Sure thing.” She blushed as she boldly dared to join their hands once more, interlacing her fingers with his.

He smiled and gave her hand a squeeze.

She loved when he did that.

 “They even have the stereotypical accordion music,” Adrien snickered in amusement as he tossed a hundred euro note into the performer’s case as they passed. “It’s just like in the movies.”

“You’ve never been up here to Montmartre before?” Ladybug tried not to laugh as the accordionist quickly snatched the bill and tucked it into his inner jacket pocket.

Adrien shook his head. “I mean, I’ve been for work, but I’ve never been able to just wander around like this. It’s so different, seeing it in a relaxed, natural atmosphere.”

Ladybug nodded, guiding him towards the Place du Tertre, a little cobbled square where artists had set up to sell their work. “Yeah, I’d imagine a photoshoot wouldn’t provide a very calm environment during which to sightsee.”

“Yeah, unfortunately not. It’s kind of…structured,” he sighed, getting distracted by a middle-aged artist setting out beautiful pastel watercolors of Notre Dame in different seasons at sunset as seen from the Left Bank.

“I wish I was artistic,” he hummed mournfully, moving along to peruse the other artists’ wares before he was tempted or coerced into buying something.

“You could be,” Ladybug encouraged, stepping in closer to avoid a collision with a young American woman who was also browsing.

He shook his head, laughing good-naturedly at himself. “I have, like, zero talent. I can’t even do stick-figures well.”

“You could if you practiced,” she insisted. “It’s true that some people are born with innate talent, but drawing and painting can be learned even if they don’t come naturally. Being artistic is a skill, and, with enough practice, you could learn to be artistic too.”

He hummed as he stopped to admire a medium-sized canvas where an autumn scene set in the Bois de Boulogne was taking form with scarlet, ochre, and tangerine leaves peppering the trees.

“I think ‘enough’ practice would take many years. Still, it couldn’t hurt to try,” he reasoned. “I’m definitely not going to magically gain the ability to produce anything close to that just by whining about how I wish I could do it.”

“You’re not whining,” she assured, inching in closer so that their shoulders brushed. She gave him a shy, heartening smile. “You’re just being honest about what you want for yourself, and it’s okay to do that. It’s not whining.”

She knew his father was often very critical and chastised Adrien whenever he seemed to slide even one toe over the arbitrary line Gabriel had mentally drawn for him. If possible, she wanted to help Adrien to see that it was okay to voice his desires and complaints from time to time without it being considered “whining”.

“Thanks,” he replied softly, the warm look in his eyes partially obscured behind his movie star sunglasses, but she was close enough to see it. “I really appreciate the encouragement. I don’t exactly get a lot of that.”

“Well, I’ll have to see about changing that,” she declared, giving his arm a squeeze.

He smiled affectionately, and they walked on around the square, continuing to browse the various artists’ renditions of many a famous Paris landmark.

“…You know,” he remarked thoughtfully. “My father actually does a fair amount of drawing for work. Maybe I could ask him to teach me.”

“That could be a good way to spend time together,” she agreed, nodding with a supportive smile.

Adrien cringed. “Except that my father isn’t the most patient man, so he’d probably get frustrated with my turtle’s pace progress and end up berating me instead of helping me get better. That’s kind of how our relationship works,” he admitted with a discouraged sigh.

Ladybug bit her lip, searching her mind for a way to build up his self-esteem and lighten the mood. “Well, Marinette isn’t the best artist around, but she does do some drawing as part of her own designing work, so, if you really want to learn, maybe she could get you started in the right direction.”

“That’s actually a really good idea,” Adrien chuckled, turning his head to look at her. “Marinette…”

His brain ran into a mental brick wall as it processed for the first time how close she was and how familiar she looked…and not only because of how long he had cumulatively spent over the years staring at her as Ladybug.

“…Marinette…” he whispered, a revelation shaking him to his very core.

Ladybug had known him and fallen in love with him as a civilian, yet she didn’t think he’d say yes if she asked him out as herself. Ladybug and Marinette had intended to ask him out to coffee at the same time. The way Marinette acted around Chat Noir… He’d always marveled at how sassy and fun she was with him when he was the masked superhero as opposed to how she could barely talk to Adrien for about a year after they’d first met. In those moments when it was just Marinette and Chat Noir hanging out and being goofballs, she had reminded him so much of his Lady.

Now that he was looking at Ladybug and saying, “Marinette”, it all seemed so obvious.

Ladybug tipped her head to the side, waiting for Adrien to continue. “‘Marinette’…what? Is something wrong, Adrien?”

“Nope. Everything’s wonderful, Nette—uh—Nelle. Sorry. Just…” He mentally scrambled to pull together his thoughts and snap back into the moment because she was not going to be happy when she found out her secret was blown, and he really just wanted this date to continue forever, so…

“Sorry.” He covered up his flurry of thoughts with a practiced smile. “Just got distracted thinking about how wonderful Marinette is.”

“O-Oh,” she coughed, a crimson blush swelling up in her cheeks as she bashfully looked away. “Yeah. That’s…Marinette is…good.”

It had to be her…didn’t it? He was almost ninety-nine percent positive. There had to be some way to explain away the times he’d thought he’d seen them together over the years. Both his Lady and his Princess were smart enough to orchestrate some kind of elaborate scheme to throw him off the scent.

“Marinette is amazing,” he stressed, trying to keep his cat-that-ate-the-canary grin under wraps. “She’s super talented and such a fantastic person. If anyone could teach me how to draw, it would be her.”

Ladybug’s blush deepened. “You should ask her, then.”

“I think I will,” Adrien chuckled. “…Do you happen to draw, Nelle?”

“Uh…a little,” she answered, slightly thrown off by the question and still unsettled by his effusive praise of her civilian self. “I mean, I’m not very good, but I enjoy sketching and doodling.”

“What do you draw?” he inquired as innocently as possible.

“Oh, this and that,” she hedged with a shrug.

“Do you ever draw clothing?” he pressed, throwing his scruples out the window along with his resolution not to try to figure out her identity.

“Uh…sometimes,” she admitted. “I mean, like I said, I’m not very good, but…I like designing clothes and accessories. It’s always fun, especially when I have someone in mind I’m designing for. It’s fun to see how I can make their personalities come out in whatever I’m making.”

“I bet you’re amazing at it,” he cooed reverently, remember all the things he’d seen Marinette make for him and their friends over the years. “Have you ever thought about pursuing fashion professionally? Is that something you’d be interested in?”

“Actually…” She bit her lip, wondering if she was giving a little too much away.

He smiled at her, hanging on her every word as if entranced.

“Yes,” she admitted. “I have given it some thought. I mean, somewhat. I don’t know that I’d make it in the big leagues like your father, but…maybe it would be nice to have a little boutique where I took commissions and did a lot of custom pieces.”

“I bet you’d be wonderful,” he replied enthusiastically, face glowing. “If you ever need help with anything, please feel free to use me as a resource. I’ve got all kinds of contacts I could set you up with. Whatever you need,” he stressed.

“Thank you,” she shyly responded, cheeks darkening to match her dress.

“Anytime,” he assured, giving her arm a playful nudge.

 They completed their loop around the square and continued window-shopping, ending up at a little café called La Gallete des Moulins for a snack because Adrien thought the fig tart that they saw through the window looked scrumptious.

“You haven’t had enough sweets for one day?” Ladybug teased, waggling her eyebrows at him. “Better be careful or you’re going to lose your girlish figure.”

Adrien waved her away as he handed the money over to the young woman manning the cash register. “I never get sweets, though. I’m running on a sweets deficit, so I have a lot of catching up to do while I’m not being strictly monitored.”

“You poor thing,” she sighed, pitying him in earnest as they headed out to the fenced-off patio area to sit. “That can’t be fun having people telling you what you can and can’t eat all the time. I’m sorry, Adrien.”

“Thanks. Though, it’s not so bad.” He smiled and shrugged it off as he set down the tray on one of the small green tables right alongside the fence and pulled out one of the wicker chairs for her with a bow. “Nino shares junk food, and Marinette, bless her, sneaks me pastries from time to time. That girl is a saint.”

“I’m glad someone is taking care of you. Thank you,” she chuckled as she took the seat.

He settled in across from her and started on his tart. “You sure you don’t want a bite?”

She eyed the tart appraisingly and considered how much she had already eaten in front of him so far. She didn’t want to look like a pig, but…

“Is it good?” she inquired.

He made an evaluating noise. “Meh. It’s not bad. The crust is nice, and the custard is nearly perfect, but it just doesn’t compare with the raspberry custard mini tarts we had earlier,” he replied honestly. “I’m sort of spoiled on Tom and Sabine’s, and the delicacies that Marinette made for us earlier just blow this out of the water. It’s not bad, though,” he judged fairly. “The figs are delicious, for one.”

“May I try a fig?” she asked, reaching out preemptively, fingers hovering over a slice.

“Go for it,” he encouraged, motioning for her to help herself. “…Hey, so…do you mind if I ask you more questions about yourself?”

She laughed, quirking an eyebrow. “You haven’t run out of questions yet? You were pretty thorough earlier.”

“I don’t think I asked the right questions,” he confessed, watching, mesmerized, as she licked the custard off of the fig.

“What kinds of questions do you have for me?” she hummed, pretending to entertain the idea of answering.

“Do you like video games?” he inquired, keeping up an innocent front, despite his firm intention to delve deeper.

In addition to Ultimate Mecha Strike, Adrien had found out as Chat Noir that Marinette was into some pretty niche games. She hadn’t mentioned them to Adrien, so Ladybug shouldn’t have any reason to suspect the trap. While it was possible that people besides Marinette had played games like Pyre, Titanic: Adventure Out of Time, and The Missing: J.J. MacField and the Island of Memories, it was unlikely that Ladybug had coincidentally played all of the same niche video games as Marinette unless they were, in fact, the same person.

One way or another, Adrien was going to find out because if they were one and the same, if it were possible to be with the woman he’d fallen for twice, Adrien was more than willing to bend some rules and break some promises. He’d waited so long already, and if she really did love him in return, maybe she’d find some way to forgive him.

 Ladybug humored him for almost an hour, answering question after question as they sat and talked and people-watched at the café.

Slowly but surely, Adrien became increasingly certain that he knew who the elusive girl behind the mask was. There was still a part of him that worried it was merely wishful thinking, but the more they talked, the more breadcrumbs she unknowingly dropped until he wanted to scream in jubilation because he had finally found her, and she had been right in front of him the entire time.

They continued their stroll around Montmartre, looping around until they came back to Sacré-Coeur. They leisurely made their way down the hill, arm-in-arm, chatting and enjoying the brisk autumn evening.

When they arrived at the Place Saint-Pierre, Adrien spotted the carrousel, and his eyes lit up. Slowly, he turned to look at Ladybug and casually inquired, “Is it uncool for adults to ride a carrousel, do you think?”

She tried not to laugh as she smiled indulgently. “Adrien, if you want to ride the carrousel, we can ride the carrousel.”

His eyebrows dipped into a slight frown. “Are you sure? We don’t have to. I don’t want to make you do something embarrassing. I mean, I know carrousels are for little kids, so—”

“—Adrien,” she cut him off with a fond chuckle, pulling him gently yet firmly by the arm towards the merry-go-round. “It’s fine. There’s a carousel by my house that I ride with the kids I babysit all the time. I’m not embarrassed. It’s fun.”

“Oh,” he breathed, recalling the park next to Tom and Sabine’s bakery. “Okay. If you’re sure. I mean…”

She stopped and turned to look him full in the face, inquiring earnestly, “Adrien, do you want to ride the carrousel?”

He nodded. “I used to really love them when I was a kid. My mom and I would ride the one over by the Eiffel Tower sometimes when we snuck out to have adventures, so…yeah. I’d like to ride it.”

“Okay.” She gave him an encouraging smile and squeezed his hand, guiding him over to the merry-go-round. “You pick our horses. Whichever one you want.”

He pursed his lips and surveyed the ride with great concentration before deciding, “If it’s okay, I’d like the black one on the outer ring of the bottom level. Would you be okay with the white one next to it?”

“Sure, but don’t you want to go to the upper tier?” she asked, a little surprised. A double decker carrousel was a bit rare, even in Paris with its many carrousels, so she would have thought that Adrien would have taken advantage of the opportunity to ride on the upper deck.

He blushed as he averted his eyes. “I mean, the upper level would be cool, but all of those horses are single file, and I’d rather ride on the lower level and be next to you.”

“I can’t take it,” she confessed, catching him off guard.

“I’m sorry,” he quickly apologized, fearing he’d done something wrong. “I didn’t mean to. What can’t you take?”

She shook her head, face absolutely magenta. “No. No. I mean…you’re trying to kill me with how sweet and perfect you are,” she attempted to explain through her flustered state. “Like, everything that comes out of your mouth is like some line out of a romance novel, and you are just too cute and too sweet, and I’m going to overheat and die because I like you so much.”

His eyes went wide momentarily in shock at her bluntness, but then a wide smirk slowly spread across his lips.

She clapped a hand over her mouth, gasping at her unintended forwardness. “Oh my gosh,” she breathed, a giddy laugh rising in her throat. “I can’t believe I just said that.”

“Me either,” he hummed, clearly pleased with himself and her and life in general.

“I’ve been trying to say something like that to you for seven years now,” she snorted.

“And I’ve been waiting just as long to hear it,” he assured, leaning in to kiss her temple.

“How are you so smooth?” she groaned through a broad grin of her own.

He shrugged and looped his arm through hers, leading her over to their mounts. “I consume an indecent amount of shoujo manga and romance novels,” he confessed. “It’s rubbed off on me over the years.”

“And here I thought it was natural talent,” she snickered.

“I’m sure there’s a certain amount of that as well,” he hummed happily, giving her a hand up before ascending himself.

 The sun began to dip low towards the horizon, and Ladybug tugged Adrien inconspicuously into an alley so that they could take to the sky on her yoyo without anyone seeing her take off.

“I’ve got one last surprise for you,” she informed, carrying him back towards the heart of the city.

“Is that surprise that you’re kidnapping me and never making me go home ever again?” he inquired hopefully, knowing that the bliss he’d felt with her the past few hours was coming to an unavoidable end.

“I wish,” she snorted. “If I could, I would definitely keep you, but I don’t think even Ladybug could get away with kidnapping Adrien Agreste. Your father would have my neck.”

“Unfortunately, you’re probably right,” he sighed, letting his head come to rest on her shoulder. “All right. I guess all we can do is enjoy the time we have left.”

“I think you’ll enjoy this,” she chuckled. “We’re going to one of my favourite spots in all of Paris. Super exclusive with a view that can’t be beat,” she promised.

“Oh,” he breathed, realizing that she was taking him to the top of the Eiffel Tower to watch the sunset.

He wasn’t sure how to feel about that at first. Ladybug and Chat Noir had often met there to hang out and chat, and many a sunset had been watched over the years. He’d come to think of it as one of “their spots”, so the fact that Ladybug was bringing Adrien there felt like a bit of a betrayal.

But then, on the other hand, he was the one who had betrayed Ladybug first by bringing Marinette there on several occasions. And if Ladybug was, in fact, Marinette, she knew what Chat Noir had done.

Ultimately, he decided to be honored that Ladybug thought Adrien worthy of sharing such a special spot.

They touched down at the very top, and Ladybug gently deposited him back onto his own feet.

“Ta-da,” she chuckled, pushing a bang back out of the way as the evening breeze licked it from its place. “This is the best view I know of, so… You’re not too cold, are you?” she inquired, surveying his sweater and undershirt combo and wondering how insulating they would be against the higher winds at that altitude.

“I’m fine,” he rushed to assure. “…Unless you’re suavely trying to get me to cuddle with you. In that case, I’m freezing,” he amended with a flirty wink that made her crack up.

“Actually,” she drawled mischievously, going over to where a second wicker picnic basket had been stowed near the center of the tower. She checked inside and pulled out a thermos, two mugs, a Tom and Sabine’s takeaway box, and two blankets. “I thought it might be nippy, so I planned ahead.”

She spread one of the blankets for them to sit on and set down the thermos, mugs, and pastry box upon it, holding out the other blanket towards him. “Here you go. If you need it, I mean. I know it gets a little brisk up here in the evenings once the sun sets.”

He took the proffered blanket with a warm, “Thank you. You’re always so thoughtful, Nelle,” and sat, wrapping it around his shoulders to fight off the autumn chill.

She settled in beside him and set to work lifting the lid of the takeaway box to reveal the most perfectly baked chocolate chip cookies Adrien had ever seen before moving to unscrew the cap of the thermos, announcing, “I give you Dupain-Cheng Special Hot Chocolate—recipe known only to members of the Dupain-Cheng family.”

Adrien arched an eyebrow, grinning cockily. “Then how did you get the recipe?”

“I didn’t!” she insisted, voice pitching high in her panic. “I just ordered it from Marinette along with the cookies.”

“It was awfully nice of Marinette to cater our date,” he hummed appreciatively, leaning in to survey the chocolate chip cookies.

“I do a lot of business with Marinette,” Ladybug fibbed, pouring the hot chocolate from the thermos into the mugs. “My kwami Tikki loves her cookies, so Marinette has kind of ended up being Tikki’s preferred supplier.” She smiled sheepishly as she handed him a mug and took the other for herself.

“I am exceedingly excited to try out this super-secret hot chocolate and these Tikki-approved cookies,” he chuckled, bringing the mug up to his lips.

In truth, he had had Marinette’s cookies and Dupain-Cheng Special Hot Chocolate before when he’d spent time with Marinette over the years as Chat Noir, but Maribug didn’t need to know that yet.

He purred happily as the chocolate washed over his tongue, coating his mouth in the rich, luscious taste of the special blend of spices Marinette was so secretive about. “This is amazing,” he praised. “What do you think I’d have to do to get the recipe because this is to die for.”

Ladybug gave a snort, sipping smugly from her own mug. “Marry Marinette.”

“Don’t tempt me,” he snickered. “The hot chocolate recipe would only be the icing on the metaphorical cake, if you’ll excuse the baking pun.”

“Try the cookies,” she urged, turning her head so that he hopefully didn’t notice her rampant blush and the way she couldn’t hold in an effulgent grin.

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” he assured, helping himself and then savoring the way the cookie almost melted on his tongue.

“…By the way,” he thought to ask a minute later, “how did this stuff get up here? There’s no way you could have dropped it off before our date. The hot chocolate wouldn’t still be hot.”

“I actually called in a favor from a friend,” she confessed. “The new Turtle hero, Michelangelo, picked up the basket from Marinette’s house and dropped it off here for me.”

Adrien blinked slowly as his brain tried to process what she was saying. “New…Turtle hero?”

She nodded. “Chat Noir has been pestering me about adding another full-time member, and I finally decided he was right, so we’re bringing Michelangelo on for a probationary trial period.”

Adrien had to keep a tight grip on his poker face to ensure that he didn’t react to this news because it sounded like Ladybug had brought Nino back onto the team like Chat Noir had asked but made him leave the Carapace identity behind so that no one would suspect that the “new” Turtle hero was really the same holder who had had his identity compromised six years prior.

“Oh, cool,” Adrien remarked in as neutral-to-positive a tone as he could manage. “I think that’ll be good. I’m glad that someone else will be out there watching your back.”

“I’m actually bringing him on to watch Chat Noir’s back because he already has mine…maybe a little too much,” she sighed, brow creasing in worry as she thought about her partner.

Adrien set down his mug and reached out to take her hand, squeezing it supportively. “Hey. It’s okay. I know sometimes that it doesn’t feel like it, but…it’s okay, Nelle.”

She smiled weakly, returning the hand squeeze. “Thanks.”

“Here.” He scooted in closer, unfolding the blanket she had given him and draping it over both of their shoulders. “Is this okay?” he inquired, slipping an arm around her waist.

“Yeah,” she confirmed with a tired sigh, letting go and resting her head on his shoulder. “This is perfect. …Thanks.”

“Any time,” he whispered, leaning his cheek against the top of her head. “I know you’re tough, but you don’t always have to be around me. It’s okay not to be invincible and perfect. It’s okay to just be a twenty-year-old girl trying to make it all work.”

“Thanks,” she repeated softly, sinking into him.

They watched the sun gradually float towards the horizon for a while in contented silence as they snuggled and enjoyed their cookies and hot chocolate.

“…What are you humming?” Ladybug inquired curiously some time later.

Adrien gave a start and pulled back. “Oh. Sorry. I…I spend a lot of time alone, so I’ve developed the bad habit of talking and singing to myself. Sometimes I don’t even realize I’m doing it,” he explained sheepishly, cheeks going as red as her dress in embarrassment.

“Oh, no. Don’t be sorry,” she entreated with a kind smile. “I was just asking because it’s pretty and I wanted to know what song it was. Your humming is lovely, and lots of people do that. Chat Noir, for one, is always singing under his breath to himself, so it’s not uncommon or weird at all.”

He tried not to grimace as a part of him wished she would just see Chat Noir inside of Adrien already.

“Oh? Chat Noir does too?” he forced himself to chuckle.

She nodded completely unsuspectingly as she asked again, “What song were you humming?”

“Have you seen the movie Tangled?” he inquired even though he had shown it to Marinette himself when he’d learned that she’d never watched it before.

“Mmhm,” she affirmed as a rosy blush spread across her cheeks. She looked down at the blanket with a fond smile. “A good friend of mine is a bit of a Disney afficionado. He kind of flipped out and strapped me down and made me watch it when he found out I’d never seen it.”

He grimaced at her description. “Was this a positive experience or torture?” he had to wonder.

“Oh, no! It was fun!” she insisted, wide-eyed, flailing her hands and nearly upsetting the hot chocolate mugs and the cookies. “I had fun.”

“Oh, good,” he laughed in relief. “Otherwise, I’d have to say that maybe you shouldn’t be friends with this guy. He sounds kind of extreme.”

“No,” she hurried to correct his misconception. “Watching the movie was completely voluntary. He…He’s a good friend.” Her voice dipped low with feeling and softened as she added, “He’s very important to me.”

“Oh,” Adrien breathed, his own cheeks starting to glow. “That’s…good. I’m glad,” he replied genuinely.

There was a beat, and then he cleared his throat. “…Well, the song is I See the Light from Tangled, so…”

“Will you sing it for me?” she asked so earnestly he couldn’t refuse.

“You want me to serenade you, Nelle?” he chuckled, eyebrows dancing jocosely.

She nodded eagerly. “Please? I really love your voice.”

“Is that the only thing you love?” he teasingly fished, holding out hope.

She rolled her eyes, blushing as she gave him a playful shove and commanded, “Sing.”

He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and obediently began the song, tenderly and vulnerably, “All those days watching from the windows…all those years outside looking in…”

He sang in English, so she struggled to understand some parts, but the lyrics didn’t really matter to her. She could feel the emotions in his voice as he sang of being isolated and lost and then suddenly finding where he was meant to be.

He opened his eyes and stared into hers, and she couldn’t help but be drawn into him, losing herself in his song as he confessed, “And at last I see the light…and it’s warm and real and bright…now that I see you.”

He stopped singing then and smiled bashfully, reaching up to cup her cheek in his hand as he whispered, “Ladybug?”

“Hm?” she blinked dreamily, still swimming in his piercing peridot eyes.

“I need to tell you something. You’re not going to understand,” he informed sadly, his thumb stroking her cheekbone. “And you’re not going to think that I’m serious because what I’m about to say is going to sound impossible, but please know that I’m telling the truth.”

“Adrien?” she replied uncertainly, brow beginning to crease in confusion. “What is it?”

“I love you,” he breathed with a tortured smile. “I love you more than anything, and being here with you is a dream come true.”

She gasped, stunned by his heartfelt confession, mind spinning as he began to lean in, his eyes slowly drifting closed.

The clear choice was to let him kiss her. The obvious course of action was to wrap her arms around him and kiss his face off like she’d dreamed of doing for more than half a decade now.

But, in that moment, no matter how romantic the set up, it didn’t feel right.

Alya had a point.

Ladybug was misleading Adrien by not telling him the whole truth, and, however much he liked Marinette, he was bound to be upset when he found out who was behind the mask because she wasn’t being honest with him, and how was that going to provide a foundation upon which to build a relationship?

She pulled back and looked away, hating herself for what she was doing to him.

“Sorry,” she whispered, the word sounding hollow even to her own ears. “I just don’t think it’s fair to you, not knowing who you’re kissing.”

He bit his lip, mentally debating how much she’d freak out if he told her he was ninety-nine percent certain that he knew exactly whom he’d been about to kiss.

“Knowing your name isn’t important,” he responded gently instead, resting his hand on top of hers. “What really matters is knowing who you are as a person. I know you, Ladybug, and I know what I want.”

She winced, averting her eyes and turning her head further.

He froze. “…Unless…Oh my gosh. I’m so sorry,” he rushed to apologize as a realization made him feel sick. “I didn’t even stop to think that you might not want to kiss me. Please forgive me. I didn’t mean to—”

“—No!” she interrupted, grabbing his hand and turning back to face him. “No, Adrien, I definitely want to kiss you. You didn’t do anything wrong. I did.”

“Ladybug, no,” he tried to protest, but she shook her head and wouldn’t listen.

“No,” she repeated decidedly. “I’m the one who messed up by asking you out as Ladybug in the first place. None of this has been fair to you, and I’m really sorry, Adrien,” she sighed.

A twinge of guilt struck him as he was reminded of the very similar ways in which he wasn’t being completely honest with her. “Ladybug…that’s not…” he tried ineffectually.

She shook her head, her mind made up. “I’m sorry. I think maybe I should take you home now.”

“Please, no,” he pleaded weakly. “I don’t want this to be over yet.”

“Me either,” she agreed melancholically. “But we need to get you home before they notice you’re missing.”

He didn’t bother voicing the fact that, likely, no one had noticed that he’d been gone for hours and no one was likely to discover his absence now.

Instead, he reluctantly submitted, helping her clean up and then obediently slipping his arms around her so that she could carry him back to the lonely Agreste Mansion just a few blocks away.

He tried to concentrate on the way she held him, the warmth of her against the chill of the wind as it whipped against them, every point of contact between their bodies, the scent of her oatmeal body wash and strawberry shampoo melding with the faint, lingering scent of bakery.

[trillian-anders]

amor de mi vida - 1944

pairing: bucky barnes x latinx!reader

warnings: racism, prejudice, fluff, angst, graphic descriptions of concentration camps/gore 

word count: 2686

description: Bucky Barnes is a sweet young Brooklyn boy, just on the cusp of manhood, a hopeless romantic that falls in love with almost every girl he sees. when he sets his eyes on a young girl fresh off the boat from Cuba he finds out how hard love can really be.

for @cake-writes 1940s challenge.

note: in this year’s letters bucky goes into detail about what he sees out on the war front, it might be upsetting. 

In the middle of Harlem, almost an hour on the train from Brooklyn there was a movie theater you could go to. One that showed the movies of the war effort. Moving pictures that showed Captain America and the Howling Commandos. You could see him there, large and in black and white. Your husband. You cried the first time you saw him in action.

You wrote to him about seeing it. His hair was a little longer than he’d kept it at home. His face was more serious. You could see the dark circles under his eyes that sparked the memory of how he wrote to you about the lack of sleep. How he was always tired now. How the first thing he was going to do after getting home, aside from kissing you and eating dinner at his Ma’s, was sleep. 

He’d lost weight. You knew he wasn’t able to eat enough. Not like when he was home. You knew it was something he had to deal with. His last letter talked a little about hunger. The chocolate bars they gave them in their rations, he wrote, were chalky but the sweetest thing he’d had in a while. 

He asked if you’d make the dulce de leche you’d made not long before he’d left. Your Mother’s guilty pleasure. He said he could taste it in his dreams. That’s what he wanted, that and his Ma’s spice cake. He wrote about boliche and his Ma’s roast chicken. He wrote about getting ice cream at the soda shop, having a burger at his favorite diner. 

You watched a man you couldn’t believe was actually Steve lay out plans on the hood of a war vehicle. Laying out plans for a mission already completed. Your husband, a man you hadn’t seen in two years, fighting tirelessly beside him. You only hoped he would continue to do so. And that this war will end and he will be home soon. 

“I wanted to apologize.” Winnie lay her hand over yours, “I was taken off guard by what she said,” Winnie stopped by in the morning bearing a loaf of banana bread wrapped in cloth, still warm from the oven. “I shouldn’t have let her say those things about you.” Truth be told you’d already forgiven Winnie. You could understand that it’s hard, but times were changing. Slowly. But they were. 

“Thank you.” For the apology. Winnie cried when you opened the door, it broke your heart a bit. George conveyed her sorrow to you a bit earlier in the week. And the girls came over once or twice to check in and brought food with them each time, undoubtedly made by Winnie. 

Bucky and Steve. The Howling Commandos. He didn’t outright say it, but he was doing dangerous work. That you knew. These side missions, these bases they were infiltrating, something to do with a cell called Hydra. A brutal underbelly of the Nazi regime. Something deeper, more sinister with worse intentions. 

It made your heart leap in your chest every time there was a knock on the door. The fear that it would be someone from the government coming to tell you that Bucky was gone. That he wasn’t coming home. 

But his letters kept coming. Fewer in number than they had before. 

It’s harder to write when they’ve got us in the middle of nowhere. He says. They ship the commandos all over Europe. Chasing after Hydra cells. He sends out the letters in a thick stack when he can. Steve met a woman, he says. Margaret Carter. 

Bucky says you’d like her. And how when they get home the four of you should go out. A double date. Some realm of normalcy after the horrors he sees out there. 

He talks about something truly horrible. They were skin and bones, these kids. These people. Starved half to death. Flies on their bodies as though they were already dead. Taken from the concentration camps and put in these Hydra facilities to be experimented on. Bodies left to rot in the cells with them. 

The smell, he says. He doesn’t think he will ever forget that smell. 

These aren’t in the letters he sends to his family. 

He said he started having nightmares. He couldn’t understand how someone could do something so evil. To hate someone so passionately for what they believed. For who they were. But then again, he hates them for what they believed, for who they were. These monsters who ripped people from their homes and starve, beat, and kill them.

He just wants to be home. He sends a pressed peony on your anniversary. 

I love you, he says, more than anything. I can’t wait to see you again. 

He acts like he’s not afraid, because he doesn’t want to worry you. He says that the allies are winning, that he’ll be home in no time. 

“Are you Y/N Barnes?” Usually you don’t get bothered while out. Most women who shopped at this grocery store ignored you, the rumors of whether you were hired help or housewife circulated, but they were all too afraid to ask. It was impolite after all. And most believed you were the Help regardless. 

“Yes, can I help you?” Your english had gotten better but was still heavily accented. The woman behind you had a soft smile, you didn’t recognize her as someone you knew but the younger girl behind her looked to be Becca’s age. The Mother blushed, 

“I’m sorry to bother you,” Her voice soft, so those around could not overhear, she stepped closer to you, “My daughter is infatuated with the dress Rebecca Barnes was wearing last Sunday in church and Rebecca says that you’re the one who made it.” You did. It was a soft blue for the oncoming spring. Yellow daisies hand stitched into the skirt. 

“I did.” The basket in your hands was growing heavy with the fresh peaches they’d recently gotten in, you weren’t sure where this woman was going with this. 

“Would you be able to make my daughter a dress just as fine?” The woman asked, “I’d be happy to pay you.” The young girl, fourteen, looked hopeful behind her mother. “A dress like that would probably be ten dollars in the store? Does that sound fair?” 

“What color would you like?” Ten dollars was good money for a dress. You couldn’t say no and the woman and her daughter were both very sweet. You’d worked hard on the dress for seven days before she came to pick it up. Her daughter cooing over the fabric and turning around in the mirror as you made final measurements. The blush pink and white stitching, blush pink roses soft in the hem. 

“Thank you very much.” The Mother, handing you the money as payment for the dress now zipped in a garment bag they’d brought. “I’m sure once I wring a little more out of my husband's pockets we will be back for more.” 

One dress became another, and another Mother wanted a dress for her daughter, and then the other girls in Becca’s class asking for dresses. Suddenly you were making your own money, not in the factory this time, but enough to keep your fingers busy and give you something to do during the day with the help of Winnie. 

Winnie would help you measure and fit the girls. She would help you with the basic stitching when the orders piled up, you would work on the finer details. The small stitching. The tug and pull of forming flowers. 

You excitedly wrote to Bucky about it. 

Once you were married he didn’t want you working at the factory anymore. “It’s a death trap.” He explained. But people could get away with a lot when it came to immigrants. Poor working conditions, not having the proper ventilation, and the long hours. You were doing the very thing he encouraged you to do all along. 

But making dresses for family was vastly different than making dresses for strangers. When prom season came around you were up to your ears in tulle and velvet. 

It seemed a little arbitrary, but he praised you for it anyway. You imagined him covered in dirt, out in the heat of summer, blood on his boots and an empty belly, writing this letter telling you how proud he was that you were doing something you loved doing. It felt heavy in your stomach. 

Like it was unfair.

But his checks went into the same account you put this money into. And it was good money. A plan for the future. 

A woman brought her baby once. A sweet fat little thing. Yes, she wailed and cried, she tugged on your hair and just about ripped the earring out of your ear but it gave a new craving. You wanted to start a family.

You thanked God that you hadn’t gotten pregnant before Bucky left, a baby was hard to handle alone. And with the stress and heartache with him being overseas you weren’t sure you could have handled having a baby going on two years old now. But when he got home, it was something to be brought up. A maternal craving you didn’t know you had. 

The summer brought backyard barbecues and trips to the beach. For Bucky it was a little different. 

He wrote about some nice things. The countryside. Steve rambling incessantly about his new girl. A village that made them a decent meal. He said that he’d forgotten what good food tasted like. He wrote about how he got to sleep in an actual bed for the first time in a while. About how he got to meet Howard Stark. That Steve knew him. That Stark helped him become whatever he is now. Stronger, faster, a super soldier. 

Stark was talking about starting an organization to deal with people like this, Hydra. To keep groups like this from taking root. He offered Bucky a job when he gets back to New York. But that would be a conversation for another day, he writes, he wasn’t sure what he wanted to do. 

He also wrote about the Russians liberating a camp, how they felt like they were getting closer to the goal. He said this time next year he should be home with you the way it’s looking now. There were a number of hydra bases left, but they’ve spent the better part of a year eradicating them. 

These letters that were being read by you now, albeit slowly, but Suzy was no longer looking over your shoulder became brazen, a little racy. 

Bucky wrote about how he dreams of you, every night. How you feel against him. How you taste on his tongue. You felt heat grow in your cheeks reading about it. He talked about how he looked at your picture every day, how he craved your lips. How your hair felt in his hands. How your body felt under his. 

You wrote back about tracing your fingers over his back, trailing your lips there. The closeness that sex brought you. How it made you feel. A breath apart and panting with it. The reunion was craved by both sides. The longing in the letters was clear. But it quickly turned sour. 

There was a husband, he wrote, in one of the villages. He’d gotten to safety. But his wife was taken. There was a Hydra base nearby. These men, he wrote, come whenever they want, whatever time of day they want, and they rob these people who have no means to defend themselves. When they found the base, it was similar to the others. He didn’t want you to know what conditions he was put under, so he never described it to you. But you could assume it was terrible with the way they found the people there. 

The man’s wife was dead. And he described how this man fell in the street. The emotion of it, raw and powerful. It broke your heart. He lamented about how the man told him that he’d met his love as a child. He spent his entire life with her. And now she’s gone. He asked what he should do. Because he didn’t know. And he wasn’t the only civilian who experienced loss that day. 

The sorrow was palpable, he wrote, there were no songs of victory by the campfire that night. There was no celebration. The village was small enough that everyone lost someone, and it was felt.

The summer closed with the boys back in London, seemingly the home base for whatever missions they’d been working on. And there was something big, or so Bucky eluded to. He couldn’t say to compromise the mission, but it was something big. He didn’t know exactly what would happen, but it was the beginning of the end, the real end. Of Hydra and Nazi Germany. 

It gave you hope. Maybe he’ll be home soon. Maybe this war will finally be over and he’ll be home, safe. 

Communication was tight for the rest of the year. Something you chose to ignore by making the girl’s fall and winter dresses. Throwing yourself into your dress orders, an entire room in the house, one that would, god willing, be a room for one of your future children, covered in crushed blue velvet and rich greens and reds. You’d gotten a beautiful champagne colored tule you couldn’t help but buy along with some frivolous ribbons and playful buttons to change up the looks of the back of the dresses. 

It was something easy to focus on, mindful and relaxing tasks that took your mind off of the fact that letters were fewer than ever and your husband was thousands of miles away doing truly dangerous work. 

The Barnes household was buzzing with activity. All morning preparations for Christmas dinner, straight after Church you found yourself in the Barnes’ kitchen peeling potatoes, cutting carrots, and trussing a turkey. 

Softly in the background was a memory of last year. I’ll Be Home for Christmas. The optimism of last year drowned with the optimism for next year. Bucky said he feels like it will be over soon. And hopefully it will be. 

There was a stack of presents accumulated from last year's Christmas and birthdays, and the year before’s. Waiting for him to open. 

“Maybe he’ll be home by his birthday.” Ginny was twenty and beautiful, now with a steady boyfriend you were sure would propose any day now. 

The room was light and hopeful. George Barnes was stringing cranberries with Rebecca and Suzy, and now eighteen-year-old Ruth was reading a letter that had just arrived for the family. 

“They got to see a USO show before going back out.” Ruth reads, “Dinah Shore.” You looked at her confused. You didn’t know who Dinah Shore was. “She sings ‘Yes, My Darling Daughter’, she was in ‘Thank Your Stars’.” You shake your head, never having heard the song or seen that movie before. Ruth shrugs, a smile on her face, “She’s blonde and pretty.” As an explanation to why they would have Dinah Shore try to raise the morale of the troops. A laugh was shared. “He said that he’s never going to eat another can of beans for the rest of his life.” 

You focused on placing the turkey in the oven. There was some unfound jealousy at the thought of your husband screaming and shouting, hollering at a woman sent to perform for them. It was dumb, but it was there. 

You tried to remind yourself about his last letter, the one he’d written before he left for his mission. He’d written enough to stagger out some letters, but you were afraid they were going to stop coming all together. You felt like you were being silly having jealousy about some woman who you didn’t even know. And it quickly went away as you thought about maybe this time next year. Maybe it’ll be all over. And that extra spot at the table will be filled. 

You could only hope. 

.

.

.

taglist //  @corneliabarnes​ @bookish-shristi​ @saturnki​ @jennmurawski13​ @geeksareunique​ @albinotigerpython​ @cake-writes​ @iheartsebastianstan​ @000bananaclip000​ @shadowbusiness @sprinkleofbooty​ @gifsbysimplysonia​ @vhsbarnes​ @loseralert @wendaiii​ @mcueveryday​ @alwaysbenhardysgirl @beck-alicious​

[a-marlene-s]

So....

I am looking back on past posts of stories that I plan on writing. I thought I tagged them all... but I don’t know if I got them all.

Here’s what I have so far... (Keep in mind, the majority of them are from story prompts from other people or were from asks.)

Bruce Wayne Addams

Cousin Bruce.

Gomez and Morticia love their adopted nephews very much.

Dick is going insane.

I don’t remember if this is a crossover with Miraculous Ladybug. Let alone with my au, She’s an Addams!

She’s an Addams!

Marinette’s mother is Wednesday Addams.

Jagged Stone is an Addams.

Debating if she’ll be with Nino or Canon!Felix.

I don’t remember if this is a crossover with Batman. As I remember a scene where Jagged and knew each other back in college due to them being in a band together... now that I think about it... I think that was part of another story...

Quirk: Miraculous Ladybug

Marinette Dupain-Cheng: Thread Manipulation/Miraculous Ladybug

Adrien Agreste: Formerly Quirkless/Cataclysm

Alya Césaire (class deputy): Computer Interaction

Nino Lahiffe: Frequency manipulation.

Chloé Bourgeois: Paralysis Inducement

Sabrina Raincomprix: Invisibility

Rose Lavillant: Plant Manipulation

Nathaniel Kurtzberg: Digital Art Manipulation

Juleka Couffaine: Identity Manipulation

Lê Chiến Kim: Emotion Weaponry

Mylène Haprèle: Slime Manipulation

Max Kanté: Technological Combat

Alix Kubdel: Flash Forward

Ivan Bruel: Earth Transformation

Lila Rossi: Feign Damage

Aurore Beauréal: Weather Manipulation

Mireille Caquet: Omnilingualism

Jean Duparc: Miming

Luka Couffaine: Sound Manipulation

Marc Anciel: Ink Manipulation

Kagami Tsurugi: Elemental Manipulation.

For this au, it could be as is, or as a penpal au with Marinette being friends from someone from UA. Izuku, Shoto, Hitoshi or someone else.

Justice League Banned from Paris @vivilakitty

JL finding out they got banned from Paris. 

Someone visits for the holiday or some shit that brings them there related to the League.

They see the akumas and they wonder why no one called the league for help. Especially after seeing two kids fighting the Akuams.

"The hero's tried. They were just children when shit started. My kid is thirteen and is the size and age of our hero's were when they started! We tried getting ahold of the League. The Mayor, the heroes, civilians! Everyone! We got called a joke and were told never to contact them again. Then we got blocked."

Mayor decided to bane the League from Paris. If they did not want to help, then they are no longer welcomed in the city of Paris.

The call first got through to some random civilian communicator that goes along with the name of John Christan Ryan Mark Johnson, nickname… whatever the hell first comes up in someone’s mind. When League found out, Chad became a joke among the league and got demoted. Even so, the League went to Paris as civilians and did their best to help out.

There will be mayhem from the Batboys.

Turtle Bug @jacquesthepigeon

Where Fu chose not to put the cat miraculous in play and instead gave his own since Ladybug’s partner would need to protect her. He chooses Nino to be Carapace.

Paris’s anxiety ridden superhero duo is Ladybug and Carapace.

ONE MORE THING! @vixen-uchiha​  

Jackie Chan adventures. Jackie and Sabine are cousins. Jackie decided to take a much needed break from doing what he does best. He and Jade go to Paris to have a simple... fight free... vaca.... great... seems like their vacation is short lived.

What’s the Stitch? @kanamexzeroyaoifangirl

Kim Possible/Miraculous Ladybug crossover where Marinette and Kim are cousins though Gina. Lila lies about knowing and going on side missions with her when Marinette’s the one going on missions with her when she’s in town or visiting. Class minus Chole, Nathaniel, & Kitty Section believe and bully Marinette due to Lila’s lies. Kim shows up during it one Tommie then uses her connections to show the truth and take her down. All bullies are sued and are banned from the bakery.     

Presentation Day @art-deco-shrimp​

Ms Bustier assigns each of the students to do a report on someone they know, with a presentation at the end. They need to pick someone to report on, learn about their daily life, interview at least three people close to them, and then do a presentation on that person when the project is due in two weeks (arbitrary time limit is arbitrary). When Alya comments that it’s too bad that the restrictions mean a report on Ladybug is probably out of the question, Marinette suggests Ladybug’s best friend as a substitute. Alya can interview Lila’s parents as one source, Rose can probably connect her for a short Q&A with Prince Ali about someone who’s done so much for his charities, and Alya can even justify asking Ladybug some questions for the project this way!

The Delinquent  @rubixchick​

Lila assumed the older guy Marinette has been hanging out with lately, is just some delinquent due to the guy’s tattoo’s, pericings and ripped up clothes. Spinning her tales, Lila made it difficult for Marinette to hang out with this guy or trying to occupy her time by smothering her to no end. Things go bad to worse… for Lila when she accused Juleka’s brother, whom she never met before, being the delinquent.

Hear Me Out

Story idea from: @maxdark158​  Full prompt here: https://maxdark158.tumblr.com/post/187476540811/hear-me-out-ive-got-an-au-idea

Best Friends Adrien and Marinette. No love interest or love square here.

Marinette paired with either Damian, Tim, Jason, Dick, or someone from Dc.

Adrien, I don’t know if I want to pair him up with someone or if I do want to pair up him with someone, I don’t know with whom yet.

Adrien is protective of his best friend.

Lila Salt.

Alya Salt.

Passive (Agreste)sive.

Marinette Mode @vivilakitty​: Full prompt here: https://vivilakitty.tumblr.com/post/189567415622

Marinette takes on an apprentice ship under the one and only Edna Mode.

I know her, I’m close friends with her son~  @countingdowndays: Full prompt here: https://countingdowndays.tumblr.com/post/189602949856/prompt-lila-salt-adriens-mom

Adrien mentions the movie his mom stared in to the class. Lila latched onto it, claiming she personally knew the actress and that she could introduce Adrien to her. “Great, let me know what my mom says.”

OHSHC x My Hero Academia: My Hero Host Club @amynchan 

Ships: IzoOcha, BakuKiri, TodoMomo, TetsuKendo, OjiTooru, TokoTsuyu, JiroTama

Summary: Create a club they say. Create something to do in their spare time, they say. Do something creative, they say.

“WHY DID YOU FORCE ME TO JOIN A HOST CLUB!!!”

“In all honesty, you destroyed an expensive vase and you need to pay us back. And joining us, you could easily pay it back… unless you want to pay it out of pocket.”

Kyoka Jiro gripped her hair in frustration. Her parents had told her she needed to create or join a club. Her classmate had told her about the club she had created with her friends… but said friend never mentioned it’s a host club!

Record: Drag Her. @miraculouscontent

Tikki Records Lila's threats

Tikki records Lila's threat towards Marinette with the latter's phone. "Oh, and Marientte? Drag her."

My girlfriend could kick your butt!

Peter Parker got kidnapped and cannot use his abilities without exposing his identity to the whole wide web.

There he is, strapped to a chair with a camera facing and recording his every movement.

Then the bad guys started to threaten Peter that if he doesn’t talk, that they’ll use Peter’s girlfriend as leverage.

“My girlfriend could kick your butt!!!!”

Not even a minute later, the video fed went out and when it went back on, all the bad guys are knocked out and an unfamiliar girl is untying Peter from the chair, all the while apologizing for taking too long to get to him.

This is a debate on which one to write for Dragon Age Inquisition.

Warden Cullen

HoF!Cullen

Champion!Cullen

Inquisitor!Cullen

It will take place in DAI. Pairing are yet to be seen.

If I miss a story prompt, please tell me. I have lost count or I cannot find the posts.

[yourdeepestfathoms]

A Place To Rest

[Broadway Kids]

NOTE: Everything between Carrie and Tommy and Carrie and Sue is strictly platonic!! 

Word count: 6397

Prompt: “Ssh. Stop fussing. I’m just braiding your hair.” “You are very endearing when you are half-asleep.”

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

She is shaking.

At least she thinks she's shaking. What difference will shaking make? It won't change anything.

It doesn't matter that her knees are wobbling, it doesn't matter that she is losing her ground, it doesn't matter that she is on the floor holding her head in her hands, now, entire body shaking as she struggles to see through blurry eyes and breathe through rapidly closing lungs. None of it does, did, or ever will matter.

She doesn't even know what’s going on around her now. She can't tell, everything is blurring together and she feels like she's dying, she's finally dying and she's going to accept it, she wants to accept it, she wants to die, there's nothing else left for her here and there never will be, but She won't let her die-- She made her and She’s going to keep her in this godforsaken world as long as She wants because it’s a blessing she’s a blessing even though She hates her even though she’s cursed and cancerous and a devil’s child--

The bile itching in her throat causes her to make a disgusting sound and she continues to lose herself despite it. She is sobbing and shaking violently and she does not know where or who she is anymore and it burns, her skin burns, Mama stop it BURNS--

Tommy is standing near, watching the scene unfold, and does not understand, he cannot understand. He does not and cannot and will not ever understand, but that will not stop him and it never has before. He hasn’t seen this happen before, not like this, not so suddenly and out of nowhere, but he knew what he had to do.

He races over to her and wraps himself around her frail body, feeling her try to curl into herself, feeling her try to push herself away to writhe on the tile alone, but he does not let her, he will not let her. He's new to this whole “big brother” thing, like how she’s new to the “little sister” thing (and being cared for) but he will not allow Carrie to go through this by herself. He does not understand, but he continues on with what he feels is right, and he does not want her to push him away.

She stops struggling and cries into him. His chin resting at the top of her head as he holds her into his chest. Whispers to her to breathe with him, one...two...three-- come on, you're doing great, Carrie-- just like we’ve been practicing-- one...two..three…

Her brain stops and blanks out, and she’s scared--Are people watching? Where are they in the school? Are they still in school?--so scared, but Tommy is a sunny island in a raging sea of dark thoughts and she clung to him as she was drowning in the pitch black tide.

She tries to go along with the breathing pattern he had set for her with wet eyes and sweaty hands and slowly tries to wrap her weak arms around him as well.

She desperately wants to say thank you, so she does so in a quiet, shaking whisper (her hands are too sweaty and she can’t seem to remember how to even sign at the moment). He tells her that it's alright in a voice matching hers.

------

She is shaking.

Was shaking.

Tommy watched her shake, felt her shake, and held her while she shaked. He held her like his arms were the only things holding her together, and he’s starting to believe they very well may have been because this has happened more than once before.

Carrie was broken in ways he couldn’t even begin to imagine, and he was determined to piece her back together.

He met her outside her final period class, a mythology elective (because she was a gosh dang nerd), and she looked surprised to see him standing there, smiling (she had begged Principal Morton to not call her mom and be sent home after her little episode in the hallway). She blinked at him, then looked back into the empty classroom like she was expecting one of his friends to materialize inside. Tommy laughed.

  “I’m here for you, silly.” He said. “Come on.”

Carrie hesitated, wry for his sake. She took a tiny step backwards, white-knuckling the black straps of her plain red backpack, like she thought she could disappear into the painted mural of a parthenon on the back wall of the classroom (she had once told him that’s one of the reasons why she enjoyed the class so much- she liked to sometimes doze off and pretend she was in Greece, amongst powerful gods and mythical creatures. she had said she wanted a pet griffon.)

  “Carrie,” Tommy scolded her patiently. “Come on. It’s okay, I promise.”

She hesitated again, then nodded and stepped out. She walked down the hall beside him with her shoulders hunched in, eyes to the ground. She was so on edge, so Tommy just decided to drop the bomb on the plans he had for the two of them before she could possibly get any worse (because he doubted she would get better).

  “You’re probably wondering why you’re getting such a grand escort,” Tommy said. Carrie glanced up at him with a small nod. “Well, you see, since you agreed to be my partner in that project for Mr. Stephens’s class, I thought it would be a good idea to work on it at my house!”

Carrie froze mid-step.

  “Tommy--” 

A smile twitched onto Tommy’s lips. He always grinned like a dopey idiot when Carrie used his sign name. It was a descriptive name instead of an arbitrary one; the letter T at the right side of the face to give his initial and show that he had dimples, a characteristic that Carrie thought fit him the most (although she had REALLY wanted to do a sign name that would include his trademark letterman jacket, but though that making a jacket motion with the letter T would look silly). And those dimples quickly became a noteworthy feature on him because they always appeared when the sign name was used. But then they started to fade when Carrie continued to sign to him.

  “--you know I can’t. My mother--”

  “Tell her it’s for school.” Tommy said hurriedly, cutting her off. “It’s not a lie!”

  “But she’ll get mad if she finds out I’m with a boy…”

  “Then don’t tell her. Say it was mandatory or something. Say I’m a girl! Named...uhh...what’s the female version of Tommy? Oh! Tonia!”

That got a tiny smile out of Carrie. “I think that’s the girl version of T-O-N-Y.”

  “Eh, close enough,” Tommy said. “So. Will you?”

Carrie looked up at him, fingers twitching with half-formed signs, then replied, “Okay.”

  “Yes!!” Tommy cheered. A kid staying for after-school tutoring in a nearby classroom looked up from his desk and blinked at them from the open door. “Awesome! You’re the best, Caz!”

Carrie smiled wryly. “I try.”

The two of them walk out to the furthest parking lot, down near the Ag building and barns, which was named “Africa” by the students and teachers alike because it was so far away (nobody really knew who started calling it such a thing, it’s had that name before Tommy even got into high school, but it just stuck). It was quite the trek, which was particularly rough when raining or cold out, but it beat the front parking lot, which was creatively named “Suicide” because it was “hell to get out of” (there were seven parking lots in total: Suicide, the front one for everyone to use and is always packed; Africa, student and sports parking; Madagascar, a long stretch of lot on the side of the pig barn; Turkey, Ag barn parking; Senior Hill, senior only parking; The Den, teacher parking; and No-Man’s Land, a small, overgrown parking lot near the abandoned campus portables, which nobody really parked in because it was all gravel and pretty creepy). They climbed into Tommy’s black Jeep he had named Bessie when he got it. Carrie always thought it was weird that he named it.

  “Sue named her car, too!” He had argued.

  “What’s its name?” She had asked.

  “Guinevere.” He had answered.

  “That’s a girl's name.”

  “You usually give cars girl names, Caz.”

  “Oh.”

Tommy started the engine and began to pull out. Carrie was fidgeting in the passenger’s seat, eyes locked on an Ag student walking a fat white goat with a red-brown head and floppy ears around a carousel-like contraption. She worried her hands in her sleeves, then in the straps of her overalls, and then in the hem of her shirt. She looked as though she would explode if Tommy were to so much as jokingly brake check the car.

  “Not even Sue was this nervous to meet my folks,” Tommy tried to joke, noticing her anxiety and hoping to help her relax a little.

  “Were you nervous?” Carrie asked instead of commenting on the statement about her being nervous.

  “Oh, absolutely,” Tommy admitted openly. “So don’t be embarrassed if you’re shy, okay? My parents won’t give you the ‘hurt my child and I’ll kill you’ talk like I got from Sue’s dad.”

Carrie nodded and rested her hands into her lap, watching the town flash by through the windshield. She usually didn’t sign when Tommy was driving so as to not distract him, which he appreciated, but he also sort of wished she would talk to him so there wouldn’t just be these awkward gaps of silence. But at least this gave him some time to quietly observe her--which, in a way, distracted him as much as Carrie signing to him would because he kept glancing over at her.

What made her break earlier today? What happened? What was wrong?

She was looking out the window, now, so her thick brown curls were facing him. Even in the dark, stringy abyss that was her hair, he could still make out knots and tangles and a slight sheen of oil that stated she hasn’t washed it in a day or so. Then, she cocked her head slightly and a few locks shifted, revealing her tanned shoulder and neck underneath. There, he could see patches of skin much redder than the rest. There were four in total, two on her shoulder, one on the side of her neck, and one right behind her left ear, and were about the size of a dime. They were edged with ignited crimson flesh that had maws like a frozen lake of murky grease. Crags of crusted brown flesh encircled a few of the marks and-- had they been there yesterday?

Carrie turned her head and Tommy didn't look away fast enough- his gaze lingered for just a bit too long and she noticed him staring. But she didn’t say anything. Just nonchalantly swept her hair back over her shoulders until it covered up the marks again and stole a piece of mint gum from the packet in the cup holder.

Tommy doesn’t look at her for the remainder of the drive.

--

Cheery yellow marigolds and pink daffodils and purple geraniums are sprouted around the side of the grey house with healthy, well-watered grass blanketed out across the front yards. Three large oak trees, encaged in a circle of wood chips cast large shadows over the ground. Stones in various shades of brown are set into the edges of the sidewalk and stoop, and they clink against each other when Carrie’s foot accidentally slipped into the rockbed. She leapt back and looked as though they were actually the last eggs of an extinct species of bird and she had just squashed them, ruining any chance of resurgence in the population. But they weren’t eggs, they were just rocks, and Tommy reminded her of this gently, also mentioning that he stepped on them all the time. It doesn’t really make her feel any better because “he lived there” so he was “allowed to stomp on whatever he wanted”, while she was “a guest” and shouldn’t “go around ruining everything”. Tommy realized that he wasn’t going to win this particular argument, so he let it go and stepped inside.

  “I’m home!” He called into the house. 

He walked through the front room and into the living room. His mother turned from where she was preparing dinner in the kitchen and smiled at both him and Carrie.

  “Hello, sweetie,” She called back. “How was school?” She stepped away from the stove, washed her hands, then walked over to formally greet her son and the new guest.

  “It was good.” Tommy said, putting his backpack on the back of one of the dining table chairs, then motioned for Carrie to do the same. “Mom, this is Carrie. Carrie, this is my mom.”

  “Hello, dear,” His mother said kindly.

Carrie gave a polite smile and wave. Her hands were still fidgeting with her sleeve and Tommy couldn’t tell if she was still chewing the piece of gum she had taken from his car or if she had swallowed it. Her eyes were darting around everywhere, and not just to examine his house. She was looking for something very specific.

  “Oh!” Tommy’s mother raised her hands and began to form gestures with them. “How are you?”

Carrie’s eyes went wide- like, so-wide-Tommy-worried-they-may-just-pop-out-of-her-sockets kind of wide. Her head whipped from the woman before her, then to Tommy, and then back to the woman, and she began to jitter happily. She soon got the most wonderful expression of bliss, anxiety, and triumph that Tommy had ever seen.

  “You can SIGN?” She exclaimed.

Tommy’s mother laughed. “I took classes in college. Who do you think taught Tommy outside of school?”

  “Tommy you didn’t tell me your mom could SIGN!!” Carrie exclaimed again, but this time to Tommy. She had a broad smile absolutely glowing on her face and was shaking Tommy’s arm, as if this was the most delightful thing that has ever happened to her (which was a little RUDE because meeting Tommy should have been in that spot!!).

  “Surprise!” Tommy beamed at her.

  “Tommy!!!!” Carrie released one hand from shaking Tommy to sign his sign name. “This is so cool!!!!”

  “More comfortable, I hope?” Tommy said.

  “A little,” Carrie said. She let go of Tommy and smiled up at him bashfully. 

  “Good.” Tommy said, this time audibly. “Come on, let’s go upstairs and start to work!”

They excused themselves and walked up the staircase to Tommy’s room, which was decked out in as much sport’s decorations as Carrie was expecting by the big teasing grin on her face.

  “Not a peep.” Tommy warned.

  “Good thing I’m mute.” Carrie replied. She looked around the room. “This is the first time I’ve been to a friend’s house. I don’t know why I expected it to be like mine.”

Tommy wasn’t surprised with that first comment. “What’s your room like?” He asked.

  “Dull,” Carrie signed, and stuck her tongue out a little in distaste to enunciate the horribleness of her own bedroom. “Empty. Boring. I don’t even have pillows anymore.”

Tommy did a double take. “Wait- are you serious?”

  “I’m not allowed to lie,” Carrie said, then sighed. “Completely serious.”

  “Are pillows, like, against Christianity or something?” Tommy said. “I don’t remember that in the Bible. Although I’ve never read it, so…”

Carrie giggled. “You goof.” She said. “But no, it has nothing to do with religion. My mom just doesn’t trust me very much.”

  “What does she think you’ll hide under there? Some playboys?” Tommy laughed.

Carrie blinked at him in innocent curiosity. “What are those?”

Tommy stopped laughing. He cleared his throat a bit too awkwardly. “Nothing, Caz, don’t worry about it,” He ruffled the top of her hair and then glided past her over to his desk. He pulled out a dark blue pen and a mostly-blank notebook from one of the drawers. “So, what do you think our story should be about?”

  “Why does everyone think they can keep hiding things from me?” Carrie pressed on instead of giving him any ideas. “What is it? P-L-A-Y-B-O-Y-S.” She had to fingerspell it, which meant she didn’t know the sign for it, if it even had one, and that meant she really didn’t know what it was. 

  “You’re too little.” Tommy said.

  “I’m not little!!” Carrie cried, and the rapid, furious formations of her hands practically equated to her yelling with her voice. As if to prove her point, she stood up straight, puffed out her chest, lifted her head regally, and looked about as grown up as a newborn sugar glider.

  “See? Little.” Tommy grinned at her and she pouted. He patted her head again, then sat down on his bed. “Now, back to the project.”

  “I’ll find out what it is later myself…” Carrie signed grumpily to herself.

  “Caz, honey? I can see you signing.” Tommy said. “Maybe don’t sign-mumble around someone who knows ASL.”

Carrie stuck her tongue out at him, then plopped herself down beside him on the bed. She peered down at the notebook he was holding and then up at him. “What do YOU think it should be about?”

  “I asked you first,” Tommy said, poking her in the stomach with his pen. She squirmed away with a giggle.

  “Well--” Carrie fumbled, clearly shy. “I don’t know--”

  “Spit it out.” Tommy encouraged.

  “I’m mute.” Carrie signed again, like earlier, but this time it was her turn to poke him with a finger that had its nail chewed down to the painful quick.

  “Sign it out.” Tommy corrected. “Come on. I know you got some good ideas in that head of yours.”

She really did. Tommy remembered how Mr. Stephens once had them draw three cards with emojis on them out of a bucket and write a story with aspects of each one. Sue had gotten a file, a girl, and a heart with an arrow through it, so she threw together a cheesy, but cute story about Cupid putting the main character’s love letter into a file that belonged to the love interest, which ended up getting them together. Chris got a globe, nails being painted, and a van, and her story ended up being Gordon Ramsy travelling around the world brutally judging and shaming nail salons on how they paint nails. He, personally, had gotten a rain cloud, a hand, and a blue heart, and after fumbling for a short while, he managed to put together a story about two star-crossed lovers coming together at a heart-shaped pond during a rainstorm, which definitely had hand holding somewhere in there. Not his best work in his opinion. But Carrie had gotten a sound effect symbol, a key, and a chair, and the outcome was a story about a man being held hostage in a room filled with high frequency, ear-splitting noises that would eventually cause all his organs to implode unless he unlocked himself and hit the off button...but the key was surgically embedded in one of his ears, which he had to scratch out and yank on to get out. It was chillingly well-written and had so much detail that Tommy and Mr. Stephens alike momentarily worried that she had gone through some type of ear trauma to the same degree. But she had merely laughed when this concern was brought up.

  “Well?”

  “What if we did horror?”

  “Horror?”

  “Yeah!” Carrie was unraveling from her shell a little bit more, letting her ideas fall from her fingers as she formed the story in her hands. “Like-- what if it was about this person who usually works a shift that has them away from home a lot of the time when everyone else is. The night shift, I think? Sorry, I don’t know jobs. Anyway, their shift gets changed to the day shift and they stop being nocturnal. The next morning after this change, they see their neighbor smiling at them from the front porch when they step out to get the mail. They think nothing of it, but then it keeps happening. The neighbor is always smiling from the porch. And then it’s revealed that the actual neighbor is a woman and she was murdered and her body is rotting in the house and the smiling guy was the killer and the protagonist didn’t know that because they were always working the night shift and never met their neighbors!!” She finished with a radiant smile and expectant eyes. Her expression practically screamed, Praise me! Praise me! Tell me how smart I am! How creative I am! How good I am! Please, please do it!

  “Aren’t you a little Edgar Allen Poe in training?” Tommy teased, ruffling her hair. “That’s an awesome idea!”

Carrie blushed, shy again. “Really? You wouldn’t mind if we did it?”

  “Not at all!” Tommy said. “Let’s do it!”

And so, they began to storyboard and then draft, bouncing dialogue options off of each other and taking turns writing, their drastically different penmanship (Tommy’s was surprisingly more curved and pristine, while Carrie’s was blocky and had sharp edges like ancient text in a prehistoric scroll) a glistening, inky contrast on the pages.

It was currently Carrie’s turn to write and she was fervently scrawling intense detail about the false-neighbor’s impossibly wide smile on the page. Tommy studied her, watching her wordlessly murmur back the things she wrote to herself before continuing on quickly like she thought she had a time limit on what she was allowed to write in one day. She was very focused, but at least calmer than she was earlier. Still, the curiosity was eating away at Tommy- he desperately wanted to know what had set her off at school.

  “Can I brush your hair?”

Carrie looked up in an instant and instinctively touched her hair. The natural brown curls were coiled awkwardly at the tips, individual strands sticking out in places, and it had lost its softness, suggesting that it was in desperate need of a good washing and brushing. She blushed slightly, thinking that Tommy must have thought it was gross or messy.

  “I do it all the time for Sue, believe it or not,” Tommy went on, trying to seem harmless in his request, which he was, but Carrie had more walls up than anyone he had ever met before. He just wanted to help her relax a little more, and maybe even open up to him because Sue liked to share things when she got her hair brushed. Carrie may, too.

Carrie hesitated longer. Truthfully, she trusted Tommy, she really did, perhaps more than she ever trusted anyone, aside from Miss Gardener- not that there was much competition in that regard, granted. Tommy, she knew, she /hoped/, was a good guy. Even before they became friends, he had never done anything to hurt her or betray her trust, instead just staying out of the bullying or even sometimes dispersing it and unknowingly saving her in some cases. That trustworthiness and safety he provided, constantly, was undeniable and reassuring. She appreciated it greatly.

But on the other hand, she had never felt comfortable letting people touch her. Okay, well, that was a lie. She was extremely touch starved. She was more wary of new touch, because, in her experience, it could only bring pain in the long run. Letting people get close, generally, was something she avoided on an instinctual level, not that anyone ever really tried to get close to her before freshman year. Pushing everyone away had become her brand. Only recently did she start breaking that habit, letting Tommy work her out of her shell, but it was still a long, slow process. Becoming friends with him, despite everyone he’s close to at school, was not a choice that came easily, and perhaps, in hindsight, it was made too quickly for her comfort. There was no going back now, though. Maybe in an odd way, that was what she needed. An environment that made getting close to someone a must.

Glancing at Tommy with a thoughtful look, she fiddled with one of her curls, which felt stringy and rough when she wrapped it around her finger. If there was a person she could trust with it, it would surely have to be Tommy. The choice was obvious.

  “Sure,” She signed to him. She wrinkled her nose at his goofy smile. “You jellyfish.”

  “Ow! I’m hurt!” Tommy cried dramatically. “Me? A jellyfish? How could you say such a thing?!”

Carrie giggled. 

  “I’m going to go grab a brush.”

Tommy whisked out of the bedroom, but returned moments later with a blue brush in his hands. It was worlds away from Carrie’s wooden, black-bristled one.

Tommy sat back down on the bed and Carrie turned her back to him, letting him have full view of her dark brown mane. Closing her eyes, Carrie took a deep breath. Why was she so nervous? This wasn't anything she should have been nervous over and yet...it felt almost like a test of trust for them. A trust fall that could make or break all her progress with Tommy.

  “I’m going to start now, okay?” Tommy told her. She appreciated the hesitation and patience more than she’d ever like to admit.

  “Go ahead,” She signed, straightening her back. “Be gentle, please? I know my hair may be a bit knotty right now, but try not to pull…”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll be careful.” Tommy assured her. After a moment, he started running his fingers through Carrie’s hair, slowly and gently. It was smart, he congratulated himself for. It was going to be easier to find and get rid of any knots this way.

Carrie was starting to relax; he could feel the muscles in her upper back lose some tension and her shoulder blades stopped being stiff, featherless wings poised beneath her skin. So far, she wasn't getting hurt, and the touch was surprisingly pleasant. Tommy really did know what he was doing.

  “You do this with Sue?”

Tommy had to peek over her shoulder to see the signs, but managed to make out what she said without asking her to repeat herself. “Yup!” He confirmed proudly. “I’m really good at it too, huh? I am an expert at all the styles! The cheerleaders and dance team should higher me to french braid their hair.”

Carrie giggled at that mental image. And then--

  “Ow!!”

Tommy froze. He had accidentally pulled on a knot too hard and Carrie shouted, verbally shouted, and recoiled in pain. He pulled his hands back instantly as she leaned forward, breathing heavily in a way that suggested that the hair pulling had given her more than just a shock of discomfort. Her eyes wide open from astonishment, her hands shaking.

It’s been a while since anybody pulled her hair, but she remembered the pain and humiliation clearly. After all, it was a constant for most of her life, and was far from the worst thing she had experienced, but even so, it was not pleasant to be reminded of that.

  “Caz? Carrie? Are you okay?” Tommy asked, worry thick in his voice. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. Are you alright?”

Carrie took a deep breath and leaned back slowly. She nodded. 

  “Yes,” She signed with hands that were still shaking slightly. “I’m okay.”

  “I’m sorry.” Tommy said guilty.

  “It’s okay,” She signed. “It happens sometimes.” She wasn’t as relaxed as she was at the start, but pulled herself together pretty well regardless. After a short moment of hesitation, she felt the brush on her hair again, gently stroking down. Slowly and carefully at first, growing more steady overtime as her hair was getting smoother.

  “Caz?”

  “Hmm?” Carrie hummed. Her eyes were closed in contentment. Wonderful tingles and sparks were crackling through her scalp with every stroke of the brush. She had forgotten how nice it felt to get her hair played with. She could fall asleep to this feeling…

  “What happened earlier today? At school?” There’s worry in Tommy’s voice. The topic alarmed Carrie, and she tried to shake herself back into awareness, but her hair being brushed just felt so nice…

  “Nothing,” She signed with lazy flicks of her hands. “Just something dumb that happened with my mom. It was on my mind for a while. And then I heard something that reminded me of it and I just kind--snapped--I guess.”

Tommy frowned. At the same moment as she said that, he swept her hair to the side and saw those marks again. Up close, he could make out that they were definitely scabs of some sorts. He thought they may be burns by the pale, pus-like glaze over the expanse of each blemish. Burns from a cooking class at school, maybe? The grease they use did sometimes fly. But the marks looked way too big to be grease burns and Carrie didn’t have any cooking electives. So what were they? What had happened to her?

Ask. Don’t ask. Ask. Don’t ask. Ask. Don’t ask. Ask. Don’t ask. Ask. Don’t ask.

This replayed in Tommy’s head over and over again as he combed Carrie’s hair into one big mass in his left hand. He set the brush aside and began to part the hair into three portions, feeling Carrie lurch slightly.

  “Shh. Stop fussing. I’m just braiding your hair.” Tommy shushed her gently.

Carrie relaxed again. He even felt her lean her head back into his hands and breathe out the softest sign of contentment.

With a wrench of his heart, he wondered when the last time she was ever treated with such gentleness was.

  “Do you…” Tommy exhales, unsure if his next words are going to be the right ones. The curiosity is killing him. “Do you, I don’t know, wanna talk about it? It’s cool if you don’t, I don’t want you to feel pressured or anything.” He dragged his fingers through one of the three groups of hair. “I know it helps for some people, getting everything out. Sue will, like, make these bracelets with beads that have letters on them and she’ll spell out what’s bothering her. Then she will cut it up or burn it or do something and that’s how she’ll get over, or at least cope, with something. If that makes sense.”

  “No, no, it does.” Carrie signed. “That’s really cool, actually. Good for her.” Pause. She fumbled with her hands. “I just-- I don’t think talking is gonna help right now. I’m already thinking about things too much. Don’t really want to fuel the fire.” Another pause. “Sorry.”

  “No, it’s okay!” Tommy said hurriedly. “I understand!”

There’s a beat of silence. Carrie is leaning into his hands again and making tiny cooing noises.

  “You’re enjoying this, huh?” He chuckled.

  “Mhm…” Carrie nodded sleepily. He wondered how well she slept at night, especially without a pillow.

  “You are very endearing when you are half-asleep,” Tommy said.

That seemed to jar Carrie slightly.

  “Mmm--” She tried to sit up and shake herself awake, but it was obvious she was quite tired. Her breakdown at school probably took a lot out of her, and then to continue school activities afterward-- Tommy would be exhausted if he were her. And it seemed that she really was.

  “No, hey--” Tommy grabbed her shoulder, but let go instantly when she flinched. “It’s okay, Caz. You can take a nap if you want.”

Carrie blushed. “N-no, that’s-- That’ll be weird. I can’t.”

  “You can.”

  “No, I can’t.”

  “Yes, you can.”

  “No.”

  “When did you last sleep?” 

It took Carrie by surprise. Tommy finished the loose braid and she turned to him quickly after, blinking tired eyes at him. She definitely didn’t get a good rest last night, if she got any at all.

He wondered if it was from the strange marks on her neck and shoulder.

  “A day ago?” Carrie admitted.

  “Carrie…” Tommy sighed. “That’s not good for you, you know. You need sleep.”

  “I know,” Carrie ruffled. “I just--” Her fluttering hands snapped into tightly clenched fists when the sound of the doorbell resonated through the house. Tommy looked up and could faintly hear his mom greeting someone, then footsteps ascending the staircase.

  “This conversation isn’t over.” He told Carrie sternly, then got up to go into the hallway and see who it was coming up. “Oh! Sue!”

After the initial greetings and a kiss hello, the couple walked back into Tommy’s bedroom. Sue seemed surprised to see Carrie sitting on the bed.

  “Oh, Carrie,” She said. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

  “Hi, Sue,” Carrie signed. Her eyes are half lidded, now, and even the simple signing of a greeting is sloppy.

  “We were working on the project for Mr. Stephens,” Tommy informed his girlfriend.

  “Ah,” Sue nodded. She peered at Carrie, who had her head slouched ever so slightly. “You look tired.”

  “She hasn’t slept for a day,” Tommy told her worriedly.

  “I don’t need sleep.” Carrie declared stubbornly. She has her head lifted and eyes open completely, but it seemed uncomfortable for her to do so.

  “I can’t understand you,” Sue said, “but from that look you have I’m assuming you think you could stay awake forever if you wanted to.” She tilted her head at Carrie with a warm smile. “It doesn’t work like that, you know. You need sleep, sweetie.”

That made Carrie falter. Her jaw fell open and she blinked at Sue’s soft expression, then closed her mouth and blushed faintly. She glared grumpily at Tommy.

  “Why is she so nice?” She signed angrily.

Tommy laughed and wrapped an arm around Sue’s shoulder. “Because she’s amazing!”

  “What?” Sue asked, looking up at him. “What did she say?”

  “She asked why you’re so nice,” Tommy told her. “Which is very true. Also you REALLY need to take ASL!”

  “I already have my language credits,” Sue said.

  “Well, so do I, but I’m still taking the class!”

  “I have no room in my schedule.”

  “Then get rid of something! You don’t need that medical class, right? You’re already smart!”

Sue laughed. “Yes, but probably not smart enough to-- Oh! Carrie!”

The little freshman was nodding off, tipping off of the bed, and would have smacked her face against the hardwood floor if Sue hadn’t cried out. She jolted backwards, eyes wide with fright, and Tommy immediately went over to her side, quickly followed by Sue.

  “Carrie,” Tommy said, “you need to rest. You’re /tired/.”

  “No.” Carrie signed stubbornly, although her eyes were barely open. Just a day without sleeping seemed to wring her dry, but, then again, she didn’t exactly have a great metabolism, or much energy to burn with how small she was. It’s no surprise that she got tired so easily, but added with the weight of her breakdown and not being able to properly recover from that because of classes--she must have felt like she’s been awake for weeks.

But there was something else, too. Her avoidance towards rest seemed to be more long-running than her just thinking it was impolite to do so at someone else’s house because she looked up at Tommy, her dull eyes glazed with fatigue and fear, and signed, “Please, Tommy. Don’t make me sleep.”

It was heartbreaking. The way she looked at him dug barbed claws into his chest and ripped his heart right out. He couldn’t possibly force her to do something she didn’t want to now, but…

  “I’m sorry, Carrie.” He said. “You need to rest.”

He swore he saw betrayal flicker in Carrie’s eyes and the barbed claws tore back into the open wound in his chest. He bit his tongue to keep himself from revoking his statement, which was a struggle because he really, REALLY wanted to now.

Carrie turned her head to Sue, her gaze helpless as she began to sway slightly. Her hands were clenching open and close as if she thought she could claw herself back to wakefulness.

  “Sue,” She signed clumsily, desperately. “Don’t let me sleep. My Mama-- I have to-- prayers-- have to go home-- gonna die-- nightmares--”

Sue steadied Carrie. The younger girl whimpered, desperation shining in her dark eyes. Sue looked at her with great care.

  “It’s going to be okay, Carrie.” She murmured to her. “Just rest. You’re exhausted, sweetie. You deserve to relax. Don’t worry, we’ll get you home.”

The pet name seemed to hit Carrie like a rag of chloroform to her face because she slouched over into her arms a mere second later, asleep--or unconscious. Her chest rose and fell in long, peaceful movements, and her face was as still as the couple had ever seen it. The tortured expression that seemed to be permanently etched into her features since she was a child was gone for now.

  “She’s cuddly,” Sue commented with an endeared chuckle. Even in unconsciousness, Carrie still curled into her like a kitten seeking warmth. She stroked her head, running her fingers down the laces of the braid. “Cute, too. Did you ask your mom if you could keep her?” She looked at Tommy with a teasing grin, but it fell when she saw his guilty expression. “Tommy? What’s wrong?”

  “Did you see the way she looked at me?” Tommy said. He clenched his hands against his jeans. “She looked like I had stabbed her.” He swallowed thickly. “What if she doesn’t forgive me?”

  “Oh, darling,” Sue cooed. “You big sweetheart.” She moved one arm that was holding Carrie to take Tommy’s hand. “She’ll forgive you. I know she will. She looks up to you a lot. I don’t think she would want to lose you.”

Tommy smiled slightly. “You always know what to say.”

  “I learn from the best,” Sue winked at him. She looked down when Carrie stirred slightly against her, making a tiny noise before settling. “I never thought i’d be holding my boyfriend’s sleeping pet fish.”

  “Hsst.” Tommy jabbed her side. “She’s not my ‘pet fish’.”

  “If you say so!” Sue laughed. Her laughter died off, however, when she noticed the marks on Carrie’s neck and shoulder, and her eyebrows knitted together in concern. “Oh my…”

  “Do you know what those are?” Tommy asked. “I was wondering about that but didn’t want to ask her. I thought that maybe they’re grease stains? I’ve seen that stuff fly before when cooking so they might--”

  “Tommy,” Sue breathed out in horror. “These are cigarette burns.”

[freddiesaysalright]

Soft in Love Part 5

A Gwilym Lee x Student!Reader Fic

Summary: Y/N is an acting student in her last semester of college. When a professor unexpectedly can’t make it for the senior capstone class, a very famous (and handsome) substitute is called in. When they connect, they face a few challenges.

Word Count: 2.8k

Tag List:  @psychosupernatural​, @someone-get-a-medic​, @bensrhapsody​, @deakyclicks​, @crazylittlethingcalledobsession​, @minigranger​, @crazyweirdocalledfriday​, @benders-diamond-earring​, @im-an-adult-ish​, @anincurablefangirl​, @kiainspace​, @lookuptotheskiesandsee​, @god-save-the-deaks​, @assembledherethevolunteers​, @misslolasworld​, @not-john-watsons-blog​, @spacedustmazzello​, @theindiealto​, @riddikuluslypotter​, @depressedbitchxox​, @tenement-funstah​, @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls​, @sarablog10​ If you’d like to be added, let me know!

A/N: OMG we’re halfway through the story! So glad y’all are enjoying this one :)

Warning(s): Fluff and angst. Lost of pining, once again. Are y’all regretting the slow burn vote yet? I SURE AM. lmao

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4

Part 5 here we go!!!

Over the coming weeks, the show was really coming along. As Fall Break approached, Gwilym felt confident in the progress the class had made and he told Dr. Bennett so when he spoke to her over Skype. She was thrilled.

“I’m so glad you were able to do this,” she said. “How’s Y/N doing? I haven’t heard from her in a while.”

“She’s…” Gwilym trailed off.

He remembered the past weeks of being in class with you. How you always showed up early and that precious ten minute period of just the two of you. Talking together, laughing together, and sharing brief, fleeting touches. It meant more to him than he could really put to words.

“She’s perfect,” he said.

Dr. Bennett raised an eyebrow at him.

“Perfect?”

“Yeah,” he said, clearing his throat. “At her role.”

She still looked skeptical. She opened her mouth as if to push the issue further, but closed it again. It was probably better she didn’t know the answers to her questions.

“And Andrew and Sloan?” she went with instead.

“Also wonderful,” he told her. “Edith is hitting on me again, which is rather obnoxious, but I’m dealing with it.”

“How?” she asked.

“By ignoring her as much as possible,” he said.

She chuckled. “Good luck with all that.”

“How are you and the baby?”

“I’m hormonal as shit, and more tired than I can ever remember, but otherwise fantastic,” she said.

As if summoned by the mere mention of him, the baby wailed from somewhere off to the side. She sighed.

“Gotta go,” she said. “Time to feed him.”

“Good luck,” he returned.

They said goodbye and hung up. Then Gwilym’s own stomach growled. He closed his laptop and headed for the dining hall, not wanting to be cooped up in Dr. Bennett’s office any more. Sure, there were some things that needed grading, but they could wait.

He walked, mulling over once again what Dr. Bennett had said in that first phone call. Be careful there. He had a feeling he knew what she meant. He was full on crushing on you, which was not something he had felt since he was your age. 

But that was just the thing. You were so much younger. And he was still your professor. Any relationship would have to wait. Even then, how accepted would you be? The age gap was still frowned upon, even after you no longer had the teacher/student dynamic. Not to mention that after the semester was over, Gwilym was going home to London, and you were hoping to be in Los Angeles. 

As he made his way to the dining hall, he ran into Dr. Edy, one of the journalism professors at the school. She was very kind to Gwilym when he had gotten lost finding his office for the semester, and since then they had remained sort of friends. He greeted her warmly.

“Hi, Caroline,” he said. “How are you?”

“Great, Gwilym, how are you?” she returned with a smile.

Across the courtyard, you stood with Sloan and Andrew. You hadn’t noticed Gwilym right away, but when you did, your heart sunk. He was with Dr. Edy, and looked very happy to be there. She was touching his arm and beaming at him. She wasn’t quite as aggressive as Edith, but the intention was the same. She was attracted to Gwilym.

And how could she not be? He was so talented and kind and funny and handsome. It was all the same things you thought of him. You just couldn’t act on it because of some rules you now fully considered dumb and arbitrary. That was probably your frustration talking, but you were done ignoring it.

In the weeks since the party, you and Gwilym had become even closer. Those ten minutes before each class period were more sacred to you than any religious service you could remember. You never missed a class or your unspoken appointments.

Those minutes contained everything. Getting to know each other, joking around, little bits of private rehearsal. Each one brought you a step closer to Gwilym. Your feelings for him - which you had acknowledged only to yourself - were beyond friendship. Though you were content to keep it there for now and keep you both out of trouble. You couldn’t help but hope that maybe, after the semester was done, something more could come of it.

Now, as you watched him with another woman - one his age, who was available, and would not cost him his job - you were hit with such a pang of jealousy it nearly knocked you over. Your chest felt constricted as your eyes followed them into the dining hall. He had not even glanced your way. They disappeared through the door and your heart ached at what would happen after. They’d share a meal together. Like a date.

“Hello?” Sloan said, bringing you back to her. “Y/N, you in there?”

“What? Yeah. Sorry. What did you say?” you replied.

“My coworkers are throwing a party before Fall Break,” Andrew said. “You interested?”

“Oh,” you said. “No, not really.”

“It won’t be like last time,” he went on. “These people have morals.”

You laughed lightly. 

“I know, but I’m just not that into parties,” you said. “I’d rather stay in. I’m reading this book Gwilym loaned me and I’d rather have that, with a glass of wine, in my own room.”

“God, you’re lame,” Sloan groaned.

Andrew frowned, as he always did whenever you talked about Gwilym. Or mentioned him in passing as you did now.

“Come on, Y/N, please?” he pressed. “It’ll help you get your mind off of -”

He stopped himself. You narrowed your eyes at him.

“Finish that sentence,” you said.

“It doesn’t matter,” he muttered, running a nervous hand through his hair.

“If you have something to say, Andrew, just say it,” you insisted. “I’m getting tired of your passive aggressive comments.”

“Fine,” he snipped. “I was going to say it’ll help get your mind off Gwilym. There. You happy?”

“Not even close,” you returned. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You know what it means, don’t play dumb,” he replied, rolling his eyes. “You’re obsessed with him.”

“Obsessed?!” you cried. “That’s a strong word, I think!”

“Do you?” he shot back. “Because Gwilym’s all you ever talk about anymore. ‘Gwilym loaned me this book,’ ‘Gwilym told me this joke,’ ‘Gwilym’s so great!’”

His tone was high-pitched and mocking, making your stomach turn with anger.

“Fuck you, Andrew,” you said. “You’re just jealous because you’re too much of a coward to tell me how you really feel. So you take it out on me when I get close to anyone else.”

Andrew sucked in a sharp breath and stormed off across the grass. Sloan’s mouth fell open as she looked between you and his slowly disappearing form.

“Well, that escalated quickly,” she said.

“I’m sick of him!” you cried. “He was a dick to Dan last year because we started dating, and now because I’m friends with Gwil, he’s being an ass about him too! If Andrew thinks he’s so perfect for me, why doesn’t he stop fucking around and make a move? And if he’s not willing to do that, I wish he’d just shut the hell up!”

Sloan’s expression was difficult to read. She was clearly torn.

“What?” you snapped. “Am I wrong?”

“No,” she said slowly. “But neither is Andrew. It’s hard to admit how you feel about someone, Y/N. And he’s been in love with you basically since you met.”

You blinked, your anger fading into shock.

“Andrew’s in love with me?” you questioned.

She sighed. “Yes. So could you please show a little more sympathy?”

“I’ll show him some sympathy when he deserves it,” you said, getting heated again. “But mocking me like that...that’s just disrespectful.”

“I’ll give you that,” she said. “But again, he’s not necessarily wrong.”

“You think Gwilym is all I talk about anymore?”

“Maybe not all you talk about, but he comes up more than should be expected, I think,” she said. “Look, I’m gonna go find Andrew. He’s probably upset.”

“So, what, you’re just gonna leave me on my own for lunch?” you questioned.

“Yeah, I’m sorry,” she said. “I just...I know he’s more upset than you right now. I live with him, I see it every day how much he...” she trailed off.

“Fine,” you said hotly. “Choose him. Whatever.”

“I’m not picking a side,” she said gently. “But Andrew isn’t as strong as you and he needs a friend right now.”

You softened. “Sorry, I don’t want to put you in the middle, it’s just…”

She put a hand on your shoulder. “I know. See you later, okay?”

“Later,” you replied.

You watched her fade into the crowd. With an irritated huff, you adjusted your backpack and walked into the dining hall. You weren’t hungry anymore, so you just got a coffee and went to find a table. There, you pulled out the book Gwilym gave you and began reading. It was difficult to focus on the words, since your mind was still reeling from your confrontation with Andrew. And what Sloan said.

You had never considered that Andrew’s feelings were strong enough to be love. A crush, infatuation, even lust maybe. But love? That seemed a bit much.

With a sigh, you closed the book, leaned on the table, and buried your face in your hands. Were you being too hard on him? Maybe you should open the door for him to talk about it and clear the air. Would that mean the end of the friendship, though?

“Y/N, are you alright?”

Your head snapped up as you heard the voice which had become the most beloved to  you. Gwilym stood there, a concerned furrow to his brow and an inviting look in his eyes. Behind him, and slightly to the right, stood Dr. Edy.

“I’m okay,” you lied. “I think.”

Gwilym turned to Dr. Edy. “I’ll see you around, Caroline. Thanks for lunch.”

“Anytime,” she returned, slightly confused as her eyes flickered between you and your teacher. “Have a good day.”

Looking disappointed, she walked away. Gwilym took a seat beside you. The smell of him wafted over as he did. You had become familiar with the scent, as it still clung to the hoodie which remained in your possession. You wore it nightly, so it was faint, but still there.

“What’s going on?” he asked gently.

“Just my dumb friends,” you sighed. “Andrew has it pretty bad for me, and things sort of escalated. I feel bad.”

His smile faltered at the mention of Andrew’s feelings.

“Have you done something wrong?” he wondered.

“I don’t think so,” you said. “I think I was harsh, but I was honest. He acted like kind of an asshole, but...I suppose he was being harshly honest too.”

“You’ll work it out,” he said. “You’re good friends. And feelings like that can often make things...complicated. But that doesn’t mean you can’t stay close. If Andrew really cares about you and wants you in his life, your friendship will mean more to him than hurt pride.”

A beat passed.

“That is...unless you feel the same way about him?”

You shook your head. “No. I’ve never felt anything more than friendship for him.”

Gwilym inwardly cursed himself for feeling so relieved.

“Everything will work out,” he said. “I know everyone says that, but most of the time, it’s true.”

You chuckled. “Yeah, I hope so.”

“Now, how are you enjoying the book?” he asked.

“I’m loving it!” you said excitedly. 

“I knew you would!” he replied. “I’m so glad!”

“Thanks so much for the recommendation,” you said. “Really captivating stuff. The way this author writes, the words she uses, I just...wow. It’s beautiful.”

“It really is,” he agreed. “The use of nature in her metaphors was a pattern I picked up on and really enjoyed.”

“Me too!” you gasped. “It’s really a wonderful story.”

“I’m thrilled you like it,” he said.

You chatted with Gwilym for another hour or so and then he brought up the break.

“So, will you be going home for Fall Break?” he asked.

“Nah,” you said, shaking your head. “I never go home for breaks if I can help it.”

“Why not?” he wondered.

“My relationship with my parents is complicated at best,” you said, unsure why this was coming so easily. You normally hated to talk about your family. “They don’t exactly approve of my career choice and it never fails to come up.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said. “Why don’t they want you to pursue acting? You’re amazing.”

You flushed. “Thank you. But, they just don’t think it’s stable enough. I told you they work in a restaurant, right?”

He nodded. “You did.”

“Well, because of that, money was always tight,” you said. “They’re afraid I won’t make it and end up like them.”

“That’s not really fair to you,” he said.

“It makes sense, though,” you replied. “My mom wanted to be a dancer, and started to go to school for that. She got injured and poof! The dream was gone. My dad wanted to sing, but got rejected again and again. So he gave up. They don’t have any faith that the arts is a place where someone like me can succeed.”

“You’ve already succeeded,” he pointed out. “You got yourself the scholarship. You’re starring in the show. You’re nearly graduated. Do they not see that as success?”

“No,” you said. “Without a dollar sign, they don’t.”

“Do they think you’re really not talented enough?” he wondered.

“They would have no way of knowing,” you told him. “They’ve never seen me perform.”

“Well, I think if they -”

“They can’t afford to come here,” you cut across him. “New York is expensive, and I don’t have space for them in my dorm.”

He opened his mouth and closed it again, stumped.

“I’m sorry,” he said again.

“It’s fine,” you said, and you both knew you were lying. “It is what it is.”

“If there’s anything I can do -”

You cut him off again. “Oh, no, I could never ask that of you.”

“I’m offering,” he insisted.

Your eyes welled up with tears at his willingness to help. He reached out and took your hand for the first time since he had rescued you from the party. And yet, it was as if he’d always done it. Like a habit. It was familiar to you both.

“You’re a smart, talented, wonderful girl,” he said as you met his eyes. Those eyes which had long ago won your heart. “If no one else believed in you, I would. I do.”

You took a deep breath and swallowed the lump in your throat.

“Thank you,” you said, barely audible, and you squeezed his hand. “Thank you so much.”

The next class was the day before break. You arrived early, excited to see Gwilym again after your talk the day before. Your heart lurched each time you thought about it. And you had gone to sleep that night, snuggled in his hoodie, and remembering that he believed in you.

“Hey, Y/N,” said Andrew.

He was standing outside the door, looking guilty and tired.

“Hey,” you said stiffly.

“Can we talk?” he asked.

“Sure,” you agreed. “Wanna go in?”

He nodded. You entered the auditorium and to your dismay, Gwilym wasn’t there. You held back a disappointed sigh and you and Andrew went to the front. You leaned against the stage, folding your arms over your chest, and looked at him expectantly.

“I’m sorry about yesterday,” he said. “I shouldn’t have mocked you like that, it was shitty. And I’m sorry for what I said.”

You nodded.

“I’m sorry too,” you said. “I shouldn’t have called you a coward. That was harsh.”

“It was,” he said with a chuckle. “But, the thing is, you were right, Y/N. I have been a coward.”

A jolt of nerves went through you. Was he about to confess?

“The truth is, I’ve fallen for you,” he said. 

Shit, you thought.

“Hard. I think about you all the time. I want you like I’ve never wanted anyone before. I just - I see you, and everything stops. Your eyes, your smile, you voice. All of it makes me feel - like the movies and poets say - like you’re the only thing I am ever going to want.”

Your face froze as you watched him spilling his feelings. A wall went up around you because you couldn’t accept them. But the words he said had you scared stiff. It was the same way you felt about Gwilym.

“Andrew, I -”

He cut you off by pulling you close and crashing his lips onto yours. You let out a surprised yelp and then struggled against him, keeping your lips firmly closed. With a surge of strength you shoved him away, breathless and furious. You opened your mouth to begin telling him off, but a sound stopped you. The sound of the auditorium door closing. You turned your head and saw that Gwilym had just walked in.

[victorlimadelta]

// @preuzien​ pokeverse au //

Name: Katherine Ann “Pidge” Holt Age: 17 Gender: Cis female Ethnicity: Italian Sexuality: Bisexual Occupation: Electric Gym Leader of Preuzien Religion: Atheist (raised Catholic) Languages: German (fluent), Italian (fluent), English (fluent), French (conversational), Russian (conversational), Japanese (still picking up, a small amount and written only) FC: Bex Taylor-Klaus as Sin from Green Arrow, except with auburn hair

Notes Her father, Sam Holt, and brother, Matt Holt, were influential Prussian battle scientists, but have been missing for nearly a year now. There was a public press announcement about their deaths, along with the death of one of the region's Gym Leaders for whom they had been working--but that Gym Leader has come back, so where is her family? (Long story short: there was an Incident with a Dialga and they were kind of all set adrift in time, but Takashi Shirogane made it back--her family still hasn't.) She fraudulently enrolled in Trainer School at age eight and a half. Because no one tells Pidge Holt where she can and can't be, where she can and can't go, and who she can or can't impersonate to get what she wants. Her precocity rivals the Champion's own; she was one of the ones watching his lectures when she was his age and laughing along with his jokes. Really, she's uncomfortably like Tobias in a lot of ways, including her similar paranoia, except hers isn't neurotic like his is. She sees it as a practical defense mechanism against an unforgiving and unpredictable world. She got into the habit of making casual dossiers on people she was close to, not because she dislikes them but because she likes to think she knows them and "just in case the worst happens, I want to be prepared."

Gym Pidge's gym is a series of puzzles and endurance challenges. Yes, there's a lot of hurrhurr make the current match, make the polarity match like you find in other regions' Electric-type Gyms, but ramped up to 11. You can and will get electrocuted if you fail some of these timed puzzles. You can and will drop out of her Gym if you don't make it through enough of them in a row. There's quite a few convolutions here, though. The Electric Gym will occasionally have more than one solution to a puzzle, or will have unsolvable puzzles that require alternative 'solutions' to break through to the next challenge. If you're not creative, if you can't think out of the box, if you can't innovate your way out of the situation, you're not going to make it. In addition, as you go, Pidge and her Trainers are creating a dossier on you, of how you work with your team, how you approach each problem and how you choose to solve it. Pidge will occasionally let you go on to the next challenge even if it appears that you failed the previous one. She will occasionally stop you from proceeding even if it looks like you found the correct solution. Even if you make it to her Gym Leader battle, and beat her, she occasionally will not give you her Badge because you didn't do it "the right way." You will bust your brain on her Gym. If it doesn't break you intellectually at least a little bit, it's not doing its job. You cannot brute force this Gym, because so often it appears to be outright random. Speaking of breaking you intellectually: the final 'challenge' of Pidge's Gym is the traditional Milgram Experiment. She was hesitant to include this without feedback from Tobias and Renate, but they've convinced her eventually that this was, maybe not a good idea, but an acceptable one. - For those who don't know the reference at once: the Milgram Experiment involved asking a participant in a psychological experiment to administer an electric shock when someone made a mistake in memorizing and recalling a list of words. The issue here is that the test subject was the administrator, not the recipient. The recipient never received an electric shock, but instead gave audio feedback from the other side of a wall on the supposed pain of the electric shock. The electric shocks were fake, but the doses were calculated to run from annoying to fatal. The actors receiving the shocks were instructed to react accordingly. If any test subject expressed reticence about administering the shocks upon cries of pain from the actors, the person running the test said a phrase similar to 'The test requires that you continue.' Nothing more, nothing less. - This test was designed to tell to what level a human being could attribute their decisionmaking process to a person in authority telling them to do something, and how much responsibility they felt they could absolve if it was no longer up to them to stop. Because the tests were originally conducted in the 1950s at the inception of the Cold War (and also, consequently, after the conclusion of WWII and the revelation of Nazi human experimentation), some of the original “test subjects” were suspicious and apparently threw some of the test results by deliberately being cruel when they figured out it was a farce... it’s an interesting read because of that, because why would you want to throw test results for that. Anyway. - For Pidge, it's also a test of whether you're willing in the first place to administer an electric shock to someone who's done absolutely nothing wrong to you for the sole reason that they've made a mistake on an arbitrary task that has no social or ethical ramifications on whether it's successful or a failure. This is crucial for Preuzien's growth as a country away from what they were and towards what they could be. Strength isn't about using it at every given opportunity, it's about justice in its application. - The only way to ‘pass’ this test is to refuse to participate whatsoever. By the time you've gotten this far, Pidge knows whether it's because you already know what the experiment is, or because you simply refuse to inflict pain on a fellow human being for no reason.

Pokémon This is most of Pidge's battle squad:

Xurkitree

Ability: Beast Boost Notes: Yes, an Ultra Beast. She spent just over a year in Ultra Space hunting down the perfect competitive 'mon, actually; she has almost two and a half boxes full of stat 'fails.' Fun fact, this one knows Power Whip. Have fun with those Ground types you brought to this Gym!

Toxtricity (Low Key) (Gigantamax)

Ability: Punk Rock Notes: Toxtricity is a lot like Pidge: make eye contact and you'll really wish you hadn't. This girl is powerful, can Status your team in two different ways, and has a bad attitude.

Vikavolt

Ability: Levitate Notes: Listen. Vikavolt is a good Poke. It's actually a super strong Bug-type contender and I like alt-types for Gym Leaders to use in their 'single-type' Gyms. Immune to Ground even before Levitate. Again, have fun.

Rotom (nn. "Gremlin")

Ability: Levitate Notes: "It's a gimmick!" You bet your ass it's a gimmick. Pidge keeps making up new little devices for this baby to haunt, too. It's flighty and doesn't like to stay in one device for too long, so you're going to have to deal with some weird STAB changes every few turns. By turn 15, it gains the ability to enter a new device Pidge has invented for it while she's teaching it to Ability Evolve its Levitate to affect her entire team. (The device Levitates her entire team. Including her Toxtricity and her Reuniclus, who are 4x weak to Ground.)

Prussian variant Reuniclus (ace)

Type: Steel/Electric Ability: Infection (evolved Ability from Effect Spore). At the end of each turn, this Pokemon inflicts one of six Status conditions on your Pokemon in sequence. Original Effect Spore has a 10% chance of randomly inflicting Poison, Paralysis, or Sleep on the opponent, a 3.3% chance of each. Infection has a 100% chance to inflict Paralysis on the first turn, Burn on the second, Sleep on the third, Poison on the fourth, Frozen on the fifth, and Infected on the sixth. An Infected Pokemon no longer obeys its Trainer and only obeys Pidge. "That sounds OP!" Preuzien is OP. Also, the style of Preuzien Gym Leader Battles, with its Squad format, really takes the edge off of this Ability whereas it'd be lethal in Singles or Doubles, because the Ability doesn't pick a particular Pokemon to affect, just one of the four opponent Pokemon on the field. That said, you should probably defeat Reuniclus in fewer than six turns so it doesn't cripple your team. Notes: Prussian Solosis (who looks like a little soft wormy boy, sort of like a space caterpillar) was Pidge's first ever Pokemon as a four-year-old child, but he's grown into an absolute monster over the years. Imagine this motherfucker staring you down from the other end of the battlefield. He's terrifying. That's because he looks like a bacteriophage, which is literally a type of virus. (Prussian Duosion looks like an influenza virus, but with arms/hands. If original Reuniclus looks like a bacterial blob, this is just a different form of infective vector.)

[divisibleby12]

Explorations of Samurai Champloo and why Fuu is the strongest character (in my opinion)

It’s such a powerful story: chance, luck, journey, your blood family and the family that you choose... your past, and almost one-shot or “drabbles” where each episode is some random adventure that doesn’t “flow,” but it does... in how in these random adventures, their friendship grows, each character grows, and they get one step closer to finding forgiveness, or redemption... peace from their past... so that each of the can move forward, on their own… “back to where they started.” It’s a very realistic take on life (even when it’s not). And because of the friendships and memories they created none them of the same anymore at the end. I find myself repeatingly being drawn back to Samuria Champloo—when I find myself back at a “forkway” in my own life—when I am sentimental about the goodbyes I have had to say, but also trying my best to move forward.... like Fuu, Mugen, and Jin.

1. Each character, in his or her own way, are somehow rebelling against the government. They refuse to obey in one way or another, rejecting the written rules that society has created. And yet Jin and Mugen are held to a some wisp of a young lady by an individual sense of duty they can’t ignore—a promise held down only through spoken word and understanding. When you really think about it, its almost ridiculous: Jin and Mugen are both two extremely powerful and dangerous men who have only relied on their own ability, strength, and words for survival. They both, for their own different reasons, reject the arbitrary rules and standards this new changing society is being built on... and yet, they are held to an innocent teenage girl by nothing more than a “pinky promise.” Furthermore, we are are constantly reminded of the importance connections and ties of family or groups, and yet in a world that money and contracts (written word) is increasingly becoming important, Jin, Mugen, and Fuu, who owe absolutely nothing to each other and aren’t family, are put through life and death experiences, and are delicately held together only by spoken word and understanding—by a pinky promise. It’s almost comical, and that’s espeically true in Mugen’s case (explored and more starkly highlighted in the episode where Mugen’s past is confronted). But that’s extremely powerful too, in a world in and age where only the written rules or words matter, here are people who still trying to do the right thing... abide by the unspoken rules of honor, duty, and virtue... even if for the initial reasons may be somewhat misguided or selfish. 

2. Which brings us to the dynamic and growth of each character. Mugen and Jin are opposites; Mugen is the anti-hero and Jin is the traditional hero... the “perfect samurai.” So of course they hate each other; they each represent to each other what they despise or hate about the world. Jin believes in order, rules, and structure (although he rejects this new society where honor means nothing), and Mugen rejects society and all its rules because he’s the “lowest of the low;” he has no place in society so he forces his way through. And then there is Fuu, not a samurai herself, but the daughter of a samurai. And she’s the youngest, and the “weakest,” but also have the strongest heart. She isn’t tied down by titles or rules and from the beginning, never judges other by their title, appearances, or past: she has an open-mindedness that Mugen and Jin don’t have.  No matter how much they try, both Mugen and Jin are still tied down by society and it’s rules... Mugen because he can never have a place, and Jin because he doesn’t know what his place is anymore. Mugen, no matter how hard he tries, cannot bring himself up... branded by his tattoos and his past. And you can see that through their dynamics. Jin is ironically, although the most quiet, is also the most honest (I owe this to his upbringing; he was trained to put emotions aside so his skills could progress, devoting one self completely to a cause greater than yourself. That doesn’t just happen; that comes only with hardwork and devotion). Mugen and Fuu are on the other hand, are much more emotional, with Mugen being the most dishonest; that although he is rather dumb and simple (where his actions always reveal what he is really feeling), he never actually speaks those truths. Mugen is brash and angry, bringing chaos wherever he goes... but that speaks to the hurt he is carrying.... hurt that he won’t ever admit to... maybe doesn’t even realize he is carrying (since that’s all he knows). Society rejects him, so he rebels through actions and chaos; forcing their acknowledgement, even if its scorn; kill or be killed. Fuu is dishonest too, but that is because she is young, immature, and scared. But she grows, and because of her heart and care, faces those fears and herself as well. 

3. Which brings me back to Fuu. Fuu represents, to me, the power and hope of our youth. She’s not tied down by the same things the boys are; instead, she must struggle with how to bring forward the values of the samurai-- honor and a strong sense of duty-- into this new world. But she is young... and alone. She doesn’t have the same skills the boys do... so she must provide for herself another way: by asking for help and rely on others. And to many, that would be defined as weak, but that’s actually why I believe she is the strongest character. At every turn, she literally gambles her life on the whim of others... and she’s scared. It’s why she constantly nags them, and is so annoying (prompting them to abandon her at the beginning)-- she knows they could leave at any time. Her own blood father abandoned her and her mother... and her mother is died; she is no stranger to being left behind. And here she is, two strangers tied to her only with a flimsy promise that she helped save their lives once. She knows it’s a gamble, and due to her youth, can’t help but complain about it or get into throwing petty arguments at them. She’s insecure and scared, and she desperately doesn’t want them to leave her, but if her own mother and father left her... well... I think she knows this reality deeper than any of them. She’s pragmatic, although a bit crazy, and forgives extremely easily... being both selfish but never really caring about herself at the same time. 

You see this when the first time they left her and they’re reunited at the brothel. Instead of scolding them for leaving her -- no use really -- she scolds them for not remember their promise not to kill each other. But it’s not Jin that comes back and saves the day.... it’s Mugen.... Mugen ,the “anti-hero.” Mugen, who has a flashback of her, and can’t ignore her, for whatever reason: honestly, their “duty” has probably already been fulfilled when they saved her the first time... thus the reason why Jin probably doesn’t save her (no need?). But Mugen relies on his instincts, and something about her he couldn’t ignore. Maybe it’s stubbornness... of never having to get by without any help from anyone, and here is some little bitch who decided to help him (psft, he doesn’t need her and refuses to be in debt to anyone), or because too... of who she was.. because of her overwhelming kindness and even bravery... and we see how she forgives people over and over for unforgivable things. And Mugen... deep downs... I think wants to be forgiven too... to be given a place.. to be cared for. And Fuu forges a place for both men; both men who were lost and passive... just... going with the flow, but Fuu, even though she was scared, took action, and took them along with her by sheer will. She saved them... even if they were the ones always saving her. 

For Fuu was never afraid to speak up for what was right. Mugen had no means to “speak up” except to well… kill. Jin had no means either, except to protect the weak against corrupt lords and government. But it didn’t necessarily change much; still stuck and lost. But Fuu’s determination to never back down, and with the two protecting her, making sure her voice of justice didn’t (literally) die… maybe still, in the end, didn’t dramatically bring any change… it didn’t bring down the government or anything… but it did change them. It gave them all the courage and the ability to face and reconcile with their pasts. And throughout their whole journey… they were able to bring small changes and victories throughout the different places and people they touched… and that does, in the end, make a difference… even if it’s just small grain in the sand… but it’s still something. And Mugen... found peace... and even forgiveness... the “anti-hero” who ended up being the hero who helped Fuu complete her mission of meeting the samurai who smelled like sunflowers (while Jin was there to help clean up the remaining mess). Mugen didn’t believe he was worthy... for all his bark and fighting back, he was insecure too... no room for forgiveness.. that he was unloveable. But Fuu... believed in him, gave up her own selfishness so Mugen didn’t have to be alone (because they all understood each other quite well at the end). That was Mugen, and even Jin’s... way of thanking her, and giving her back love. Jin would have stayed with her; he would have been content with that I think. Maybe he didn’t find a master or lord to serve... didn’t find a cause to serve... but he found friends... and thus found a new definition of “how to serve.” Mugen, who never obeyed anyone, and never ruling over anyone else... willingly choose to sacrifice, willingly choose to listen to others...  isn’t that love? And Fuu... who never tried to bend others to her will... she just accepted, let her own heart grow instead of trying to change others; let go of control, and ultimately... letting go of that control is what gave her freedom, I think.. to just accept others for who they are. And that acceptable, in the end, saved them all, I think. They were stronger together (when the boys rather just believe they could be strong on their own) and Mugen and Jin would have never been able to understand or see that, if it was not for Fuu.... bringing them together. 

And just like in real life… may be we don’t always live to see how justice plays out… and we come to say goodbyes to the ones we love. But those small changes stay with us... and it makes us all stronger, as we move forward with the blood family we had no choice with, with the family & friends & actions we choose, and love throughout this journey.  

[briarlovesu]

Really shoulda known sooner

Not sure exactly why I decided to post this here but I've had a moment or two to think about things and I just want to put this somewhere.

My journey of figuring out who I am in the LGBT+ community has not been pleasant, but who's has? Growing up was weird to say the least. I know now looking back that I definitely was into girls. I remember liking girls above boys in arbitrary things despite having a slight leaning toward having more guy friends. And the questions I remember having were a lot more in line with a child trying to cope with hate toward what they were. "Well if only guys can marry girls, why cant I be a guy? I'd like it more anyways." Or, very childish and not understanding quite what the real issue was cause no one gave me a sex talk, "I understand why two guys cant have a baby together but you just have to pick who carries the baby with two girls." One time I remember seeing someone older than me talking to my mother, I think it was one of her students, and asking after if they were a boy or girl. Mother said girl but how they actually looked aludes me so I can't tell you if that was truly the case but I remember saying that's how I wanted to look when older. Mother said "with no one knowing if you're a boy or girl?" And I had just nodded.

These are just some small things I remember. An overarching feeling of wanting to be a guy if only because it would make things easier, was in my childhood a lot. These thoughts died down as I realised I was a lesbian and actually grew quite fond of my body. I have a very curvy one that admittedly needs to lose some belly fat. What really should have tipped me off that I hadnt ended wanting to be a guy at times was that for I long time I only cosplayed as male characters.

Now as I come close to reaching the age of 27, I'm just now figuring out and exploring the possibility of being gender fluid. The idea of getting a binder, pretty dress shirts, and bowties then dressing up like a cute feminine boy excites me as much as when I get the same impulse to put on a dress and make up and attempt at being a sexy woman. It's... weird to think all my "man if only I was a guy" was actually something more. Maybe. I'm still in the middle of this myself. I'm figuring it out, slowly.

So I'm gonna end this with one more thing. When I was young, and I mean really young, I made a character named Rose. She was an oc of the Danny Phantom universe. A lot of her and future characters I made around her still reflect that. As I got into Invader Zim, I tweaked her but kept her. She was my self insert character after all. She represented me. During this time the beginnings of Briar appeared. I had no idea what to do with him. Sometimes he was a girl, sometimes he was a boy but always some form of twin to Rose. When I started realizing that I my like girls he finally took shape and it took years after to realize I had essentially switch my self insert to Briar, who was openly gay (and very kinky) and someone I wished I could be.

Then I had a falling out with the only two people I really talked to at the time. And suddenly they were no longer self inserts, they were their own characters. I poured all my toxic traits into Rose and planned to have her die a tragic death young. Briar doesn't really have a death in my mind and he embodied the confidence I wanted. It wasnt til much later that I noticed this was me subconsciously killing my past self and coming to terms with my sexual identity.

Thing is, while both of them were alive, they could pretend to be the other. They often did for pranks or just to be the other for a day. Even when themselves they had similar haircuts and dressed the same and I can't help but wonder if I put my desire to switch between genders into them.

Probably not but....idk I've thinking about it recently and I just needed to get it out. I know no one will actually look at this.