#anything that isn't forced coding at work......

[meimeimeirin]

caved in after a month of craving and finally ordered in my favorite indian food for a very late lunch today. it's so expensive even when considering how i can eat it over the course of 2 days. but it's ok. it's ok, me.

[trappedinafantasy37]

Let's talk a little bit about Minthara and her oath real quick. Now, a question that I have seen pop-up in a few places between Reddit, Tiktok, and even Tumblr, is how the in the hells Minthara isn't already an oathbreaker. Well, I have 3 potential theories as to why that is.

Because it is merely a game mechanic and Larian did not want your only potential paladin to be an oathbreaker upon recruitment.

Her original oath to Lolth never broke because she never willingly joined the Absolute and her oath to the Absolute was made under false pretenses.

When she joins your group, she makes a new oath in your name instead.

Personally, I think that Minthara's oath is actually a mixture of 2 and 3. Yes, it is possible for a paladin to have multiple oaths at the same time. It just isn't a recommended practice in tabletop DnD because they can sometimes contradict each other, some oaths will straight up break other oaths, or the players just are unable to manage them properly. In this case, I do believe that Minthara has two oaths, one to Lolth and one to you.

I have not been able to find any reference to how paladin oaths work when the paladin is being coerced or mind controlled. But from what I have read in DnD lore, when a paladin makes an oath they have to do so willingly, deliberately, and consciously. None of those things occurred for Minthara when she took up her oath to the Absolute which is why it did not break her oath to Lolth (because it otherwise would have as she would have been sworn to destroy the Absolute for Lolth). And, technically speaking, the god that the oath is sworn to cannot go in and break the oath. Only the paladin can break their own oath. I only think gods can revoke divinity from their clerics. So, even if Lolth was truly pissed at Minthara, Lolth herself cannot just break Minthara's oath. That is something only Minthara can do. Minthara's original oath to Lolth still being intact is not necessarily indicative that she still has Lolth's favor, it just means she hasn't yet broken the terms of that oath. Even a crisis of faith (which Minthara is going through) won't break the paladin's oath either.

Another thing that is important to note is that as of 5e, a paladin actually does not need to make their oaths in the name of a god or before a god as their divinity is powered solely by the oath itself. Paladins are able to just summon divine smites and other holy based powers by sheer force of will and conviction (which is pretty damn sexy if you ask me). I mean, oathbreaker paladins still have access to divinity as well. Of course, paladins can still make an oath in the name of a god and most typically do, it's just that gods are not the source of power behind that oath. An oath is nothing but a vow, a promise that the paladin makes *to* a god, not the other way around. It does not even need that gods approval. So Lolth abandoning Minthara will also not break Minthara's oath either because Lolth is not the one who made an oath to Minthara.

So, it is very much possible that when Minthara joins your group, she does make a new oath in your name as oaths don't need gods. But, Minthara herself does not actually know how to live her life without having some kind of god figure so she just kinda puts you in that spot for the time being. I mean, she literally prayed to multiple gods and you were the one that answered. Which is also one of the many reasons why she does to along with what you want to do (even if she disagrees) because the oath she made to you would keep herself in check and keep her from acting against you. Minthara already is a very loyal person, but if you have any doubts on Minthara's loyalty, just keep in mind that she is quite literally oath bound to do whatever you tell her to do and will not betray you.

Minthara also never goes out of her way to become an oathbreaker, even after you free her from the Absolute. To be precise, you have to command her to break her oath. And of course, she will do so willingly knowing the consequences. Despite her oath being broken, she will still abide by the tenants of that oath. But she does enjoy the freedom that comes with being an oathbreaker and now nothing will hold her back from achieving her goals. However, she also says she does not know if her oath will still stand when all the nonsense with the Absolute is resolved and she even implies that if you do take the Absolute, she will no longer have an Oath of Vengeance, but an Oath of Conquest (which I think fits her better than vengeance if I'm being honest).

Minthara also makes quite a few suggestions to you that would actually break you oath if you are a paladin. Such as making an oath to Gortash, or making certain choices in regards to the vampire spawn. But, Minthara never does any of these things herself and I think that is purposeful. She knows these actions are oathbreaking type of actions. She attempts to orchestrate a fight between Dame Aylin and the wizard knowing fully well that it will break Aylin's oath. And she really wants you to go snitch on the wizard (although I just think it's because of her disdain for wizards rather than her being a little scoundrel to mess with Aylin's oath).

She is very very careful to keep herself in the position that she is because she doesn't want to be an oathbreaker initially. She is also very careful to tell you to do all these things. The language that she uses in regards to her oaths are also very important. Her original oath to Lolth would have her sworn to destroy the Absolute. But, we also know that Minthara very much has other ideas for the Absolute that do not involve destroying it (but oaths only break from oath breaking actions, not oath breaking thoughts). And her oath to you, she very specifically says that she is sworn to destroy all those who serve the Absolute, which is not exactly the same kind of oath she has with Lolth.

But, there is only one instance in this game in which Minthara will willingly become an oathbreaker and you do not have to command her to be one and that is if and only if you claim the brain. Her choosing not to destroy the brain when she had the opportunity to breaks her oath to Lolth. Now, the oath that she makes to you is where it becomes very very tricky. The oath she made to you, she specifically uses the language to "destroy all those who serve the Absolute". Her oath gets broken to you because she has become someone who serves the Absolute. But, there's more than that. If you become the Absolute, you also enthrall all your other companions which would make them servants of the Absolute and she also does not destroy them. Ironically, her choosing to serve you as the Absolute, breaks the oath she made to you because she has gone back on what she said she was going to do in your name. But most importantly, she chose not to get vengeance for herself.

Her oath to you was never to help you become the Absolute. Her oath was specifically to assist you with destroying the Absolute and all those who serve it. Her choosing not to destroy the Absolute and everyone who serves it, breaks both of her oaths. So, the Minthara that greets you at the gallows is now an oathbreaker. But, as I mentioned earlier, Minthara has already expressed the notion of taking up a completely different oath if you were to claim the Absolute. She helped you become the Absolute, knowing it was going to break her oath, and she had the intention of immediately replacing it with an Oath of Conquest, making her the first official paladin of the Absolute.

The fact that she wants you to become Absolute at all and that she prefers being an oathbreaker is why I read her as a canon oathbreaker. But she will never break her oath out of betrayal, but because of loyalty and devotion. She breaks her oath trying to make you as powerful as you can be. I have also discussed previously that her devotion is her fatal flaw and her choosing to remain devoted to you could potentially get her back in the same position you found her (that is if you betray her and choose to use the Absolute to reenthrall her). Her becoming solely devoted to you officially removes any and all ties she has to Lolth. But it causes Minthara to remain stagnant in which she doesn't learn anything, she doesn't change at all, and she doesn't grow.

She will live the rest of her life devoted to someone that isn't herself and act in the name of someone that isn't herself. She will live the rest of her life helping you achieve your goals and ambitions and what she wants is kinda secondary to all that because she has propped you up on a pedestal. She has always lived her life in service of a god and she does not know how not to. Many of the things that she has done in her life are not because she wanted to do them, but because she had the burden of expectations either from Lolth, from her family, or from Menzoberranzan culture and her oath kept her bound to these expectations. And she is falling back into that cycle with you because you failed to show her that there was another way and that she could be devoted to herself. You failed to show her that she does not need a god and she can indeed choose for herself.

[sbcdh]

"You saw it?"

"For a second. Yeah. I saw one."

"Start at the beginning."

"Hoo. Okay. Uhhh... It was 77. I think. I was air force. Or, hypnoengineering support staff contracted to help out around St. Louis."

"That's how you came into your supply of JVH-1"

"It was JVH-11 actually, and yeah, the fuckin, uh- the requisitions officer at Scott was an old buddy of mine. We used to fuck around in college before I, you know-"

"Yes I understand."

"I worked records for Sears-Roebuck, I had all the accounting expertise, as well as a ready supply of LSD."

"How did you start?"

"Oh it was easy at first. Really just selling off phials of the new experimental stuff to finance guys. They'd go nuts for the stuff, pay top dollar for it too. Hell, I could get 100$ for a milliliter. Made it easy to keep my contacts bought in and re-invested. Honestly I don't think the req office would even know that we were skimming if they weren't in on it.

But, you know how it is with hypnoregulation. Transchronological market data is worth it's weight in diamond. It started with the odd photo of a 2q-week readout, then biometric data, then, uh- then. Well, we decided to try it ourselves."

"You attempted full sub-finantial emmanation?"

"No no god no, what're you nuts? No, see. We figured if one person can meld their brain with the market, we just had to get as close as we could to that guy, and mark the twain, hypnologically speaking."

"Mark the twain?"

"Yeah, see, okay. A plutophant in full emmanation isn't like us. We exist at a single point in time, an R1 rational market actor. But they exist in multiple points in time, back in 77, I think the government could hit R6 with that analogue tech. Most people can hit R2 with a single hit of JVH-1, with practice you can hit R3, but anything higher than R3 takes a pretty serious support team. But here's the thing, I had a whole cadre of co-implicated members of a military grade hypnoengineering support team. All we needed was the space."

"The warehouse. Schaeffer Marble and Tile was it?"

"Bingo. See here's the thing. You know why the government had to start building those special regulation temples? It's not just for security. Once you crack the R6 barrier, Plutophants start leaving what's called a wake. You know, like a fuckin, uh, like a boat. They're imperceptible to normal people, but if you have sensitive enough instruments or, say, a person in the edge of sub-market emmanation.

See the government didn't know at the time, but if you balanced the drugs just right, and kept someone right on the edge of R4, you could actually read the plutophant's interpretations by their wake rather than their direct neurofeedback. It's not nearly as precise, but if you have a good team and you know what to look for, you can get some really, really valuable market data that way."

"And your co-worker?"

"You mean Mills? Fuck. Yeah...Mills. Right."

"Take your time."

"No, no I'm good. It's... It's uh, It's dangerous. Brains aren't meant to take that much JVH-11 all at once. We could stay on R4, but what we didn't have was a recovery team, or a medical team, or recon team. It was me, Mills, Israel, Connaught, and Marsh. The five of us were the only ones in the soup. Bruso was running the machines and Lasker was monitoring the readout."

"Can you tell us what happened?"

"Yeah. Yeah. It was a normal intrusion. Hypnogrid emmanation is pretty simple with our tech and support. Sedation was all green, hypnoinduction was green. Smooth as silk. Landed about 40 minutes from our work location. We had the codes from the IRSAW people that morning, all we had to do was maintain hypnoinduction for 40 minutes while traversing the colon and we'd be able to-"

"I'm sorry, colon?"

"Oh come on. Colon. Collective Unconscious. Col-Un. Colon."

"I- of course. Continue."

"Hey, have you ever been on a dive before?"

"Can we focus on your statement?"

"It's important. I need to know if this next bit is gonna make sense to you or not."

"I've undergone basic anti-intrusion training standard for IRS investigation task force officers."

"So you've done safe dives. White room? Castle training? Putting up the wall? All that jazz?"

"That's correct."

"Did they ever tell you why it's dangerous to perform off-site hypnoincursion in meta-unstsble hypnospace?"

"They did."

"Well they're lying...don't look at me like that. I'm not bullshitting you. They're lying...there's...there's shit out there okay? There's things out there."

"Mills?"

"Yeah. Mills. Uh..."

"Take your time."

"Yeah yeah. Quit interruptin me. Mills... Uh, yeah so we were T-Plus 30 into the dive. Bruso gives us a heads up that some hypnoflora is headed our way, but can't get a read on mass. Says we should steer clear, but we are so close. Israel had handled some hypnoflora before, so we weren't worried. But it was... I dunno. I can't explain."

"Do your best."

"Like. Okay. Meta-unstsble dives are fucked. They're acid trips. The St. Louis hypnoscape already doesn't look normal, but Scott Base looked like some kinda bastard lovechild of a medieval castle and a seashell, all twisting up into itself. The streets were a chessboard, and all the streetlights we're these tall kinda mannequin lookin' things holding a tiny sun in their hand. Everything is fucked, it's all topsy turvy. But it's okay, because it's meta-unstable hypnospace, its not SUPPOSED to be normal. And then there was a Red Sock."

"Like for the feet?"

"No. Like. In the middle of this fucked up dreamscape, there's suddenly a batter for the Boston Red Sox. He's standing there, maybe 50 feet away. He's got a bat in one hand and a mitt in the other, and he's just kinda walking towards us. Nobody really knew what to do. It didn't look dangerous, but something wasn't right. It didn't fit. We just kinda stood there, looking at the thing. Israel starts talking to Bruso, asking him what to do. Suddenly, Bruso is screaming at us, telling us to book it. He's screaming into the com, telling us to prepare for de-emmanation. Nobody knows what's happening. Israel is suddenly standing between Mills and the Red Sock, and..."

"Any information you can recall could be of use."

"It's...it's mostly feeling at this point. You ever been having a normal dream? Like, a good, normal dream? And suddenly you realize that something is really, really wrong? There's signs. For me? It's that the lights go out. Suddenly day turns to night, and something about this batter just makes me want to curl up and hide. Suddenly, moving through the world is like trying to swim through molasses. I try to run, but nothing moves, and everything is dark. The world is shifting. There's shadows under the bathroom door that can't be happening. A man who looks like Jesus. An old and terrible house and an old man with no name whose face I can't remember. The batter swings at Mills and she just...vanishes. Shes gone. Bruso pulls us out a second later."

"So this, batter killed Ms. Mills?"

"No."

"No?"

"No. We get out, she's comatose. Whatever that thing did to her, she was still in hypnospace. I gave her a hot shot of barbiturates. Her brain activity slowed to R0 after about 90 seconds."

[a-very-tired-jew]

The Columbia University Taskforce on Antisemitism 2nd Report is out. And it's a doozy. https://president.columbia.edu/sites/default/files/content/Announcements/Report-2-Task-Force-on-Antisemitism.pdf

Before I get into the nitty gritty of it let me pretty much summarize and paraphrase the Taskforce's position: "Holy shit the antisemitism on campus is so much worse than we thought, and it's repeatedly done by people saying they're 'just anti-Zionists'".

Let's start with the Taskforce's working definition of antisemitism.

Fig. 1. Columbia Taskforce on Antisemitism definition of antisemitism

This is a pretty good definition as it includes such things as Holocaust Denial, perceived ties to Israel, double standards, and all the usual things. It pretty much encompasses everything we have witnessed and experienced since Oct 7th. However, the Taskforce then follows it up with this bit.

Fig. 2. Columbia Taskforce on Antisemitism says their definition should not be used outside of training and education.

By saying that their working definition of antisemitism should not be used outside of training and education purposes the Taskforce is pretty much admitting upfront that the antisemitism they are reporting on falls well within their definition and breaks Columbia University code of conduct to the point where the perpetrators would and should receive various punishments ranging from suspensions to expulsions to revocations.

This is an example of the double standards that Jews experience. If this was a taskforce working to find evidence and address any other form of bigotry and racism then there would be recommendations made using the working definition. The irony is that they talk about double standards right in their definition. Now, of course the whole argument comes down to First Amendment Rights. But speech that induces and instigates violence against individuals and/or ethnic/racial groups is not protected. Considering that the Taskforce found calls to violence against Jews then this is not covered. Furthermore, while supporting terrorism is covered by the First Amendment, material support includes distributing terrorist approved and produced materials, of which many students and groups like CUAD are on record doing (even on their own social media) is not.

The report then does what we always, always, always see when it comes to anything with antisemitism. It recommends training on antisemitism AND islamophobia. Now, I am for this personally. A lot of others might be like "Why link the two?! It's always like this!" but I think training on both serves a purpose.

Explicit training and education on what is antisemitism and what is islamophobia. Such things as criticism of the Israeli government's actions, Hamas's actions and rhetoric, the Nakba and the Farhud, the Arab League, and so on being the things that come to mind as examples of not antisemitism or islamophobia. Then getting into the things like stereotypes and conspiracies and how criticism can easily fall into these, how people often seed in "innocuous" conspiracies that are actually the gateway to more serious hateful ones and how to recognize that ploy.

By having courses and training on what is and what isn't either of the two you start to address that leftover guilt since the 9/11 era that has prevented any and all criticism of Islam, Islamic groups, and Islamic regimes for fear of being labeled "Islamophobic". We have seen since Oct 7th the projection of "Jews are weaponizing antisemitism to prevent criticism of Israel" from groups that defend the use of Hadiths that call for the death of Jews under the guise of "you're being Islamophobic" as a means to prevent criticism.

Now, will such education and training actually address these issues? Of course not. They'll likely be opposed and never implemented.

Let's move on, shall we? The report then gets into it's introduction and tells us that they heard from nearly 500 students ranging from undergrads to post-docs about their antisemitic experiences. These testimonies come from Zionists, anti-Zionists, non-Zionists, and those the Taskforce couldn't exactly label. Furthermore, those that did not attend the listening sessions did what we've seen all antisemite do since 10/7; they denied the experience of these students and the Taskforce acknowledges this.

That's huge.

Acknowledging that the greater Columbia University community is denying the antisemitic experiences of these students whom are across the political spectrum and academic experience is signaling to the antisemites that the victims will not be drowned out by the mob with pitchforks.

They then follow it up with this.

Fig. 3. Acknowledgement that the antisemitism students are experiencing does lead to physical violence and has historical precedent.

The Taskforce is admitting and acknowledging that Columbia University has failed in fulfilling part of its mandate in protecting students and addressing acts of bigotry, hate, and violence towards students and students of a particular group. By also acknowledging that antisemitic rhetoric has a historical precedent of leading to physical violence they are also admitting that they know how bad it is and it needs to be addressed.

They then recommend that the university change its policies because of the utter failure to address these incidents. Further elaborating that some of the incidents actually violate state and federal law and that the university is culpable in such cases and the university itself is, once again, adhering to double standards for its Jewish and Israeli students.

The report then goes into the incidents students experienced starting with section 1B. Student Experiences in Day-to-Day Encounters. I will not go over that here in detail, but it contains multiple testimonies and excerpts from testimonies about the antisemitism the Jewish students experienced since 10/7. What is important to note is that the Taskforce acknowledges the "slippage" of anti-Zionism into antisemitism in the majority of these incidents, that the perpetrators don't think they're doing so, but to everyone else it is very clearly happening.

Fig. 4. Taskforce stating that anti-Zionist activities have fallen into classic antisemitic tropes and canards on Columbia's campus(es).

Furthermore, the Taskforce acknowledges that Jewish and Israeli students purposefully had their words misinterpreted to villainize them. Any attempt at facilitating discussion or understanding was dismissed with heavy prejudice.

The Taskforce also talks about how social media has played a role in the harassment of Jewish and Israeli students.

Fig. 5. Student testimony and screenshotting of antisemitism online from Columbia students and orgs.

Moving on to section C. Student Experiences in Clubs, we find one of the most heinous incidents.

Fig. 6. Founder of an LGBTQIA+ group defends their antisemitism then acknowledges it and brags that they got away with it.

This incident highlights one of the issues we have seen since 10/7 where people place Jews as "white oppressors" to validate their antisemitism. They engage in open antisemitic conspiracy and defend it through the use of progressive language that makes it difficult, if not impossible, to address their bigotry. Why? Because a person like this will fall back to being a minority themselves to say that they can't be a bigot. This type of defense is hypocritical and is solely used to silence any attempt to address their hate, to which this student fully acknowledges as she bragged that she got away with it.

This is why Columbia University apologizing to Khymani James after expelling them for their comments about "Zionists don't deserve to live" and that we were "lucky" they weren't out there killing them right now is so abhorrent. Across the internet we saw accusations of white supremacy and silencing BIPOC and queer voices because of Khymani's sexual identity and ethnicity. Is this not the kind of weaponization that antisemites accuse Jews of? This is projection and the testimony above and the Khymani incident highlight this type of behavior. You don't get to be a hateful bigot simply because you're a minority, but the double standard for Jews is a consistent issue.

As the report continues we then find out that the CUAD is not just one group, but actually a coalition that has multiple student clubs and organizations underneath it. CUAD demands that its member clubs and orgs adhere to its mission and rhetoric. According to the report, any student in a club or org that didn't express outright (((anti-Israel))) sentiment was silenced and eventually ousted and/or removed. In almost all incidents, any group signing on or joining the CUAD coalition did not abide by their own rules and excluded any and all Jewish and Israeli students from the process. If they spoke up they were told their opinions did not matter and were removed.

This coalition is further expanded upon in section E (I'm skipping D as it is about curriculum issues and is much shorter). Testimony points out that CUAD is a coalition made of over a hundred student organizations and that they are also bringing in outsiders to the campus. So the claims of "outside agitators" are moot because it was CUAD who brought them there in the first place. The intent was also never to be a peaceful protest or encampment as multiple testimonies talk about the violent language and actions within the encampments and across the campus(es). Specifically the language being used during "vigils" was not about peace or in memorium, but celebrating death and highlighting violence. The issues that the Taskforce learned are, I think, best encapsulated by this paragraph from page 36 in section G.

Fig. 7. Paragraph highlighting how Columbia is now seen as an antisemitic university.

I can attest to Columbia now being seen as the antisemitic university. Its reputation is entirely tarnished by the administrations refusal to act on the very real and violent antisemitism that has been present on its campus since the days after 10/7. I know professors who have turned down jobs, grad students that have withdrawn applications, and donors that have stopped giving.

This report by Columbia University's own personnel provides evidence that contradicts the narrative we have been told by members of the CUAD encampment(s) as well as people across social media; that the antisemitism is fake and made up to prevent criticism of Israel. The Taskforce admits that they were astonished by how bad it actually was and that the university refused to do anything. This should be telling to anyone who has witnessed these claims by people trying to dismiss concerns regarding antisemitism in the pro-Palestine movement. We've seen this across social media and this site where antisemites accuse Jews of being Nazis while they themselves spew antisemitic rhetoric straight out of the Protocols and the Third Reich.

Antisemites will always try and paint Jews as the actual perpetrators of hate, violence, and villainy while they themselves commit those very same acts (that is not to say that no Jew has every committed a crime or any such act themselves, but the projection that we have seen by antisemites is massive). This Taskforce report has multiple testimonies of Jewish students just trying to exist and go about their lives to only be harassed and assaulted for the crime of living while Jewish.

I am going to end this post here as the next section after the testimonies and incidents of antisemitism goes into recommendations for the university and actions to be taken. That is a separate post that will be couched in this one later on.

[stilljuststardust]

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Persistence, not perfection

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Conviction is not the absence of fear, doubt, and negative emotions. Conviction is standing in the face of that and saying you have it anyway, because nothing other than what you decide matters.

Stop thinking that you've failed to make an assumption just because your heart is still racing and your stomach still hurts. Your emotions and your body are not god. You can be terrified and shaking in your boots but still standing ten toes down in your assumption

Where I think many people go wrong is the pursuit of perfection. It's the trap of "good enough". When will I be enough? When is what I'm doing good enough to manifest my fucking desire already?? You decide what's good enough, and no one else.

This idea that you have to feel good to manifest, or that you don't have control over when it manifests, the constant song and dance of "doing it right". Law of attraction still has its dirty little fingers digging around inside our hearts

Right and wrong are up to you. There isn't a secret code that unlocks the door, there's no invisible gatekeeper to please, there is only yourself. Have you decided you have it? Have you decided your efforts are good enough or are you constantly punishing yourself.

It is so easy to get lost in what you "should do". Should I be convincing myself or just deciding? Is it ok if I use this affirmation? There is no should.

Do not let shame and guilt destroy you. You should never blame yourself for what is in your reality. You should however recognize you alone have the power to change it.

Stop trying to "fix" everything and ending up spiralling over minor feelings that you can't get to go away. You don't need it to go away. You can literally just decide to keep with the assumption even if you had a stray thought or a flood of emotion. You don't have to hammer down everything that isn't exactly perfectly perfect, because it's yours. Accept that it's yours anyway. Yes I feel like shit, it's still mine. Yes I have doubts, still fucking mine. No I don't understand the "how", it's still mine.

Stop being the observer, hovering over your own shoulder to chastise yourself over every little mistake. You do not need to be perfect to be persistent.

You don't need to "figure out" anything, you don't need to convince yourself or overthink. Manifestation is when you leave all that shit alone and say "no, fuck all of that, I have it".

Trying to micromanage yourself is the easiest loa mistake to make. You end up spiralling for thirty minutes because you had one bump in the road you're trying to force down instead of just saying "sucks, still have it though".

Who cares about belief, who cares about feeling, you are god. Its up to you. I don't care if you feel convinced when you say that you have it, and neither does your subconscious mind.

I'm an insomniac who doesn't drink enough water. If I just go by how I feel I'm gonna think the world is ending. So much of our emotions get falsely attributed to "oh it must not be working" when really, you haven't your body is literally just begging you to go outside or take care of yourself and you're over here like "the universe is against me". No you haven't failed, you're just grumpy and need a nap.

The constant return to "how do I fix it" "how do I manifest" IS living from the old assumption. Deciding that you have already manifested it, regardless of how you feel, is what you need to be doing instead.

Trusting yourself is not this overwhelming influx of dopamine nor is it the complete lack of fear. Having trust is doing the damn method anyway.Having trust is saying, I may not believe it, I may not see it, but it's fucking working. Having trust is getting out of your own way and letting yourself do it without constant double checking.

Conclusion, literally say "nuh-uh!"

"Ok but I don't believe it-" nuh-uh still have it.

"But the 3D-" nuh uh, mine

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

[triptuckers]

lighthouse - cassian andor

Request: nope Pairing: cassian andor x reader Summary: after an undercover mission nearly ends very badly, you and cassian finally come to terms with what you are to each other Warnings: fighting, blaster shots, injuries, bruises, angst Word count: 3,2K A/N: listen. we need more cassian fics that aren't smut so rejoice !! my andor obsession is back in full force and I also read a book that shook me to my core so this is inspired by my love for cassian and a line I read. enjoy!

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

you and cassian have been... something for a while. you don't know exactly what, but you're sure you're not just fellow rebels. it's in the lingering glances, the brushing of his fingers against yours, how he sometimes looks at you so intensely but never ends up saying anything. you'd learnt he wasn't a man of many words, but the ones he did speak always rang true.

you keep telling yourself you'll talk to him. after the next mission. then you'll pull him to the side and speak with him about whatever you were to each other.

but there's always another one. always a next mission. the rebellion is fast paced. people are sent off to the very ends of the outer rim, you learn to sleep when you can, and you're always looking over your shoulder.

but you know what you're fighting for, and you want to do your part.

luthen, who recruited you a while back, has noticed how well you and cassian work together, so you're often sent on missions together.

even though you know you shouldn't want this many missions, you'd rather see this war come to an end, you couldn't help but be at least a little pleased you could do them with cassian.

today isn't any different.

once again you tell yourself after this mission, you'll talk to cassian. about what's going on in his head when he can't tear his eyes off of you during a briefing.

your mission is simple. you and cassian are to infiltrate some fancy invitation only event, make your way one of the countless offices in the building, find a string of passcodes, and get the hell out without getting yourself shot at.

you'd done it a thousand times before. this wouldn't be any different or any harder.

how wrong you were.

it started well, despite your uncomfortable shoes. you hated dress codes but you had no choice this time. you would stand out in your comfortable clothes - very recognisable as a rebel or at the very least, someone who did not belong at such an event.

you only got distracted by the art hung on the walls for a short while.

when you were younger, you were very fond of your uncle. he'd travel the galaxy and come back with stories. as a child, you'd promised him that one day you'd collect stories of your own.

for a while, you did. you'd hear stories from people you'd meet, they'd tell you about their cultures, their art, their traditions, their history. you loved hearing those stories and passing them along.

cassian often listened to them when the two of you were traveling to the next mission.

when you slowed your pace walking past an interesting looking sculpture, it was cassian who nudged you to keep on walking. your time window was short, and there was little room for stalling.

once you find the right office, cassian keeps an eye out while you sit at the imperial's desk to find the passcodes. thanks to some good intel, it doesn't take you long to find them.

you quickly copy them, then join cassian at the door. the corridor appears to be empty when cassian looks around the corner. nevertheless, you bend down to get your blaster out of your leg holster.

'put it away.' says cassian.

'you've got your blaster out.' you observe.

'yes because I can tuck it back in my pants.'

'and?'

'and you can't very well subtly bend down to put yours back, can you?'

'I could if-'

'no time. put it away.'

other people would get offended by his sharp tone, but you know cassian. he's focused on the mission now. on getting out quickly and efficiently.

you make a show of putting your blaster back in your holster. telling him if you get shot because you can't return fire, it would be his fault. cassian merely rolls his eyes at you as he exits the office.

you follow him out, forcing yourself not to run. if anything would be suspicious it's two people suddenly breaking in full sprint.

cassian walks ahead of you towards the hangar where you'd stashed your ship. as he rounds a corner, you nearly bump into him as he suddenly stops walking.

you're confused for a moment when you catch him hiding his blaster, then see the imperial officer in front of him.

'you two are far from the party.' the man says.

you're quick to walk up to cassian's side and wrap a hand around his bicep.

'is there a problem, sir?' you say, choosing to play the part of confused partyguest.

'this corridor is off limits to guests.' says the imperial officer.

you give cassian's arm a quick squeeze, letting him know not to interfere with your plan.

'we're so sorry, officer, my husband and I were looking for the washroom.' you say, smiling at the man.

but instead of waving you off, he narrows his eyes at your hand on cassian's arm.

'I don't see a ring.'

'it's not part of our culture.'

'and there are clear signs pointing to the washroom.'

'there are? we must have missed them.'

'I'll ask again, what are you two doing this far from the party?'

you notice cassian tensing up beside you. it wouldn't be easy to convince this man you're supposed to be here.

the imperial officer takes out his comm device to alert someone else but cassian acts quickly, swiftly punching the man in the nose.

'there goes our last chance at this being a stealth mission.' you sigh, following cassian as he takes off.

you watch as cassian pulls out his blaster again. you quickly bend down to retrieve yours as well, stopping for a few seconds, then run to catch up with him.

while rounding a corner, you nearly twist your ankle. you loudly curse your forced choice of footwear. meanwhile, cassian is ahead of you.

'hurry up!' he yells over his shoulder.

'you try running in four inch heels!' you snap back at him.

as you're barrelling your way through countless corridors, forgoing all attempts at stealth, you nearly fall again.

you groan in frustration, shoot a look over your shoulder and deem it safe enough. you could take off your shoes quickly. it'll only be a second.

'are you fucking serious?' cassian shouts as he sees you yanking off your shoes.

'would you rather I break my legs?' you yell.

cassian reaches out and pulls you up as you duck to avoid blaster fire. the imperials had caught up with you.

you're so close to the ship, you push yourself a little faster. you're on cassian's heels as he enters the ship.

right as you enter the ship, a pair of blaster shots hit their mark. you feel a searing hot pain across your ribs as you hit the button to close the door to the ship.

cassian, who heard you yell out in pain, worriedly looks at you but you wave him off.

'fly the ship!' you yell.

your priority right now was to get the codes to the rebels. it wasn't your life. it was the brutal reality of the rebellion.

cassian seems to realise this as well. he takes one last look at you, before taking off towards the cockpit.

you press a hand to your side as you lay on your back, focusing on your breathing.

you close your eyes. you know that's not a smart thing to do, so you permit yourself three deep breaths. then you'd open your eyes again. you feel the humming of the ship beneath you as cassian flies away from imperial territory. you breathe through the pain, not daring to move, in fear of making your injury worse.

suddenly you feel a hard shove and open your eyes. cassian's worried eyes look into yours.

'I thought you died.' he says.

'good morning to you, too.' you grumble. 'I closed my eyes for a second. why aren't you flying the ship?'

'we're in hyperspace.' cassian says. 'that wasn't a second.'

you frown, then try to sit up to look at your ribs. immediately, a sharp pain shoots through your body and you fall back again.

cassian goes quiet as he runs off to get a medkit.

unceremoniously, he uses a knife to rip a part of your dress off. in any other circumstance you'd be appalled. but this was war. everyone needed to act quickly all the time, there was no time for modesty.

your eyes focus on the ceiling of the ship as cassian works on bandaging your ribs. you feel him poking around, checking your injury. you wince when it hurts too much and cassian mumbles an apology.

you close your eyes, but cassian pokes your cheek with his finger. you make an annoyed sound.

'don't sleep.' he says firmly.

if you were anyone else you would have found his harsh tone rude. but you've known cassian for a while now. you detect the undertone of worry.

'i'm okay.' you say, but you feel yourself slipping. a nap did sound very good.

cassian pokes you again.

'cassian.' you grumble.

'stay awake. I mean it.' he says. 'I'm nearly done.'

you're desperately trying to stay awake, when cassian speaks again.

'count down from three.' he instructs.

'why?'

'do it.'

you sigh, then count down.

when you're at two, cassian firmly secures the bandage around your rips, making you cry out in pain. you'd been shot before, but this was much more painful than any other time.

you let out a string of curses as cassian checks the bandages.

the sharp pain had weakened to a dull, throbbing pain. it was annoying and consistent, but hurt less than before.

'you need rest.' says cassian.

'i'm fine here.'

'you're not sleeping not on the ground.'

'i've had worse.'

'no.'

cassian leaves little room for argument.

you feel how he carefully slips one arm behind your back and the other under your knees. he may not have a very muscular build at first glance, but he lifts you without much visible struggle. the movement intensifies your pain and you try to blink the feeling away.

you desperately try to stay awake, to commit this feeling of being in cassian's arms to memory. but your eyelids are just so heavy.

cassian carefully sets you down on one of the cots on the ship.

'now you can rest.' you hear him say.

you want to thank him for taking care of you, but you're already asleep seconds later.

the journey back to base takes a couple of days. cassian has to take a creative route to make sure you're not leading imperials to the rebels. occasionally, you wake when cassian comes to check on you. he helps you drink water and you try to eat something, but most of the time you just sleep.

cassian is being even more silent than he usually is. you can tell his mind is racing. you want to ease his thoughts, but there never seems to be the right time to talk.

when cassian wakes you a couple of days later, you've made it back to base.

he helps you sit up. you insist on being able to walk on your own. but one attempt at pushing yourself up from your sitting position shows you can't.

cassian supports the biggest part of your weight as he slowly takes you from the hangar to your room.

you had a private room, which was a luxury. people you pass in the hallways send you worried looks, but they know cassian would explain it all in the debriefing.

with a series of practiced taps, cassian unlocks the door to your room and helps you inside. he carefully puts you down on your own cot and turns around to leave so he can give his debriefing of the mission as quickly as possible.

'cass.' you say, nearly asleep already.

his ears perk up. you've rarely called him that. the first time you did, it caught him off guard and you interpreted his surprised look as a sign he didn't want you calling him that. quite the opposite. he loved it.

'what's up?' he says softly.

'thank you.' you say.

'of course.'

'did I ever tell you you're my lighthouse, cass?'

he frowns at your words. what is a lighthouse? but before he can as you about it, you've fallen asleep. he decides to let you. he knows there's people waiting on him, and you need your rest.

cassian walks back to the room he's expected to give his debriefing of the mission. he thinks about your words on his way, but forces himself to think of the mission when he enters the room.

the debrief itself is short. he passes the copied codes along to someone else, so they can work with them. cassian updates everyone on your condition, and has a medical droid sent to your room to check on you.

then he sets off to find brasso. he's convinced he would know what a lighthouse is. but brasso can't give him an explanation, only his best guess. bix also doesn't know.

just as cassian is searching for will to ask him about the term, he runs into luthen, who has a new mission for him already.

cassian knows you'd be irritated with him if he'd stay back for your sake. you both know the importance of the rebellion. he doesn't want to leave you behind, but he does as he's asked.

the mission doesn't take him very far. he's joined by a handful of others. though he's only gone for a couple of days, he worries about you.

so when he returns, he immediately goes to your room, letting someone else handle the debriefing this time.

but when he opens the door, something's off. your room is empty and it smells of cleaning supplies. the bed is made way too neatly for you to have done it.

panic seizes him as he quickly makes his way to the small medbay.

one of the medical droids says you haven't been in since cassian left for his mission. they don't know where you are.

it's one of the new recruits that tells cassian you're probably outside.

their current base is located on a forest planet. the trees provide cover for your ships and base. cassian knew it was similar to your home planet, and you missed it dearly. you often spoke about your childhood home, and the big garden you loved when you were a child.

the feeling of panic slowly disappears as cassian makes his way to the back of the base, where the forest was blooming and green.

sure enough, he finds you sitting in a patch of grass rather than one of the benches. steam rises from a cup of tea in your hand. your head is tilted upwards, catching rays of sunshine on your face.

he closes his eyes and sighs softly. you were alright. just reconnecting with nature.

cassian walks up to you. you've got more color on your face than the last time he saw you, a good sign.

he wants to tell you he's so glad you're okay. he also wants to scold you for not being in your room when he got back, scaring him like crazy. but instead, a questions comes out when he speaks.

'what's a lighthouse?'

'you're back!' you say, turning around and then wincing, pressing a hand to your side. it seems you hadn't completely healed just yet.

cassian walks up to you and sits down beside you, accepting your hug. he looks at you with another one of his piercing gazes.

as you look at his face - searching for any injuries - it takes you a while to register his question from before. you'd been sleeping the pain off a lot, and sometimes your mind was a little foggy.

'I never told you?' you say.

cassian shakes his head.

'well. I was going to tell you all of this eventually. after the next mission, I kept telling myself.' you say, glancing at the trees ahead of you. 'but I thought that blaster shot would be my last.'

'it takes more than a few blaster shots to take us down.' says cassian.

you smile at his words.

'a lighthouse is a tall building on the edge of an ocean.' you explain. 'I saw the ruins of one once.'

'so I'm a tall building?' says cassian, not understanding.

'it was meant for sailors. if a boat would be out on sea and it was dark, the lighthouse would guide them back to dry land. keep them save, bring them home.' you say.

you sip your tea as cassian lets your words sink in.

'this war is intense. the rebellion is intense. it's hard to find your footing when you're never in one place for long and you don't know when you have to pack up and leave again. but I know, no matter where I go, you'll be there. you'll guide me home. so, in a way, you're my lighthouse.' you say.

'your lighthouse.' cassian echoes your words. 'I like that.'

you turn your head to look at him, not surprised to find him looking at you already.

'I had a feeling you would. how did your mission go?'

'alright. got what we came for. got back home.'

'you've never been a man of many words, have you?' you say, smiling.

he shrugs. 'sometimes you don't need many. how are you feeling? how are your ribs?'

'better.' you say. 'the medical droid said you did a good job at bandaging me up. though it still hurts. I sleep a lot. I was just going to take another nap.'

cassian frowns. 'why didn't you? if it helps with the pain?'

'I was waiting for you to come back.'

'you were?'

'I never really sleep well when you're out there and I'm here.'

cassian stands up and offers you his hand.

'where are we going?' you ask, allowing him to gently help you stand.

'to take a nap.' he says.

you smile and allow cassian to lead you back to your room, never letting go of his hand. he helps you when you lay down on your cot. you surprise him by gently tugging him down with you.

'you look like the mission was intense. you need your rest as well.' you say.

cassian nods, then takes off his boots and jacket. he lays down next to you, careful not to touch your ribs in fear of hurting you. you move closer, only wincing a little at the movement.

'do you have to go soon?' you ask him, feeling tired already.

'no.' says cassian, wrapping an arm around you. 'not for a few days.'

'good.' you mumble, burying your head in the space between his jaw and his shoulder.

you're nearly asleep when cassian whispers your name.

'yeah?' you say softly.

'you're my lighthouse, too.' he says.

you smile at his words. 'I know, cass.'

A/N: thanks for reading! everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. please do not copy, translate, plagiarise or repost my work! some of these are requested by other people and I spend a lot of time and effort on my works <3 much love, marit

[renthony]

In the aftermath of my big post about censorship, multiple people have left comments that boil down to, "it's okay to show heavy topics in fiction as long as they're portrayed as bad."

Let's take a quick look at an excerpt from the full ext of the Hays Code, shall we?

No picture should lower the moral standards of those who see it. This is done: (a) When evil is made to appear attractive, and good is made to appear unattractive. (b) When the sympathy of the audience is thrown on the side of crime, wrong-doing, evil, sin.The same thing is true of a film that would throw sympathy against goodness, honor, innocence, purity, honesty. note: Sympathy with a person who sins, is not the same as sympathy with the sin or crime of which he is guilty. We may feel sorry for the plight of the murderer or even understand the circumstances which led him to his crime; we may not feel sympathy with the wrong which he has done. The presentation of evil is often essential for art, or fiction, or drama. This in itself is not wrong, provided: (a) That evil is not presented alluringly. Even if later on the evil is condemned or punished, it must not be allowed to appear so attractive that the emotions are drawn to desire or approve so strongly that later they forget the condemnation and remember only the apparent joy of the sin. (b) That thruout the presentation, evil and good are never confused and that evil is always recognized clearly as evil. (c) That in the end the audience feels that evil is wrong and good is right

This is the same Hays Code that supported Nazis. This is the same Hays Code that forced Jewish artists out of Hollywood. This is the same Hays Code that targeted artists of color, queer artists, female artists, any artist who deviated from the white American Catholic ideal. And it was explicitly Catholic, which I explained in further depth here.

The idea that art has to have a clear moral, which lines up with the dominant morals of white American Christianity, is foundational to the Hays Code. If you sound like the Hays Code, you need to re-evaluate.

Censorship and moral codes enforced on art are never used for anything other than oppression. The second you try to dictate what is and isn't allowable in art, you side with people who will enforce those rules on marginalized people with no mercy and no hesitation.

Censorship does not create healthy relationships with media, even the censorship you might be tempted to think of as "good censorship."

(And, as usual, being an independent censorship researcher does very little to pay my bills. Kick me a tip on Ko-Fi or pledge to me on Patreon if you want to support my work! <3)

[melinoelabs]

Dear Sirs.

SCP-682's powers are metatextual. He's unkillable because the story says he is nearly unkillable and no solution would be satisfying. His nickname is 'the very hard to destroy reptile' for rigour's sake. You don't have to be Grant Morrison to put this together.

The solution is to alter the narrative so that there is a means of killing him that is satisfying. Unfortunately, only full-on apocalypse scenarios or the use of SCP-682 as a jobber for an even worse threat would fill that criteria.

So unless you want to unleash something even more tiresome, like the Black Moon or the Scarlet King or the Yellow Submarine or whatever other color-coded doomsday monster you have on tap, you're just wasting jumpsuit filling doing anything at all.

The easy alternative is to simply stop trying to kill him.

Just focus on holding him in the most boring, routine ways possible, rendering him increasingly less interesting and thus reducing the time between stories focused on him and thus, the resulting breaches and disasters.

Or you can do what we did. If you aren't chicken.

Ours wasn't a rotted lizard. It was a sort of mummified horse the size of a 1996 Volkswagen Harlequin, and it was a she, but otherwise same deal. Regeneration. Vat of acid. Mass casualties. Violent opposition to the use of breath mints. Endemic to all life. Po-tay-to, po-tah-to.

We figured out the how it worked, and we speed-ran the whole concept, hurling that vile beast through a veritable plinko-fall of thousands of extermination tests and controlled rampages until there was literally nothing left to do with the 'More-Than-One-Way-to-Fail-to-Kill-a Horse'.

And we trust the populace enough to not lie to them for 'their own good'. Because its funny? Sure. Profitable? Absolutely (don't worry, shareholders!)! But never for 'their own good.'

So we turned those experiments into a 17 season reality television program hosted by Greg Kinnear and force-fed them to a sludge-hungry populace.

There were 'More-Than-One-Way-to-Fail-to-Kill-a Horse' calendars, coffee mugs, t-shirts, two different animated spin-offs running at the same time for some reason, four movies starring Chris Pratt as the voice of the horse, an ongoing sketch on Late Night with Conan O'Brien, 'More-Than-One-Way-to-Fail-to-Kill-a Horse' "acid bath" sour candy flavored yogurt in a tube, a series of increasingly inadequately playtested gameboy cartridges, a 27-issue limited series from Image comics, and adorable plush mummified murder-horse plushes with little suction cups on their red-felt hooves so they can stare balefully out the back of your station wagon at that ASSHOLE Kevin in his souped up Trans AM who does not understand the concept of a safe following distance, and you JUST want to run him off the road with the magno-lifters and recreate the scene from Lost Highway with Robert Loggia, but "you can't use the magno-lifters for revenge" because it's "against OSHA regulations" and "technically assault!"

And once the first shipment of 'More-Than-One-Way-to-Fail-to-Kill-a Horse' Funko Pops hit store shelves, the creature's cultural cache cratered so hard that it became a parody of itself so predictable it's "containment" is now a Universal Studios attraction with two failed executions and a containment breach each night, with double shows on Saturdays.

Now, it was a rocky ride getting there, especially for Utah (projections say you'll get those House seats back in two, maybe three, generations at most, don't you worry!) but we've proven that even if it isn't killable, you can, in fact, beat a dead horse.

Hope this helps.

Humbert, Outreach Liaison Melinoë Laboratories "Hoc non veniet ad nos mordax"

[pearlessance]

【ＣＯＭＰＩＬＩＮＧ　 ＭＡＳＴＥＲＬＩＳＴ．．．】

☆ ｔｈｅ　ｌａｓｔ　ｏｆ　ｕｓ☆

↳ Joel Miller

⤷ Our Little Secret - dbf!Joel pre-outbreak

Joel Miller deals with disgusting intrusive thoughts about the girl next door who smells like vanilla and uses cherry chapstick. [part one][part two] - read on AO3!

⤷ Moral Modification - JacksonEra!Joel - written for @joelmillerssexyyounggirlfriend <3

When you decide to pierce your nipples, Joel Miller breaks his moral code to lend a helping hand. read on AO3!

⤷ A Dance In The Dark - Joel x f!Reader

Joel puts on a mask and chases you through the woods. read on AO3! [cowritten with @joelmillerssexyyounggirlfriend]

⤷ Three's A Crowd - Joel x Reader x Tommy

Tommy's new girlfriend is awfully sweet. When Joel finds out she's got a big appetite that only he can fill, he decides to satisfy the craving. read on AO3!

⤷ Lust Among Thieves - Joel x Reader x Tommy

Survival is a skill that everyone had to gain after the world ended. Your father was killed in the Boston QZ, leaving you alone and forced to survive all on your lonesome. Just to eat, you had to steal from strangers, but unfortunately, you picked two of the worst people to target. What you didn’t expect was the lust that steadily built between all three of you. read on AO3! [cowritten with @joelmillerssexyyounggirlfriend]

⤷ I'll Crawl Home to Her - husband!Joel x wife!Reader

All the ways Joel Miller loves his pretty little wife. And all the ways she loves him right back. read on AO3!

⤷ Beneath the Armor - Joel Miller x f!Reader

Joel Miller has been the center of all the gossip in the trailer park since he tragically lost his daughter. He's short-tempered and mean as hell, his hostility no doubt spurred on by that beer he always has in hand. But when you need a ride to work and he's your last resort, you come to find he's much more than what meets the eye. [cowritten with @joelmillerssexyyounggirlfriend][part one] [part two] [read on AO3!]

↳ Tommy Miller

⤷ Fishnet's and Old Fashioned's - pre-outbreak, goth!bartender!reader

Tommy Miller wants a big titty goth gf and isn't above begging on his knees to get one. [part one] [part two] or read on AO3!

⤷ Three's A Crowd - Tommy x Reader x Joel

Tommy's new girlfriend is awfully sweet. When Joel finds out she's got a big appetite that only he can fill, he decides to satisfy the craving. read on AO3!

⤷ Lust Among Thieves - Joel x Reader x Tommy

Survival is a skill that everyone had to gain after the world ended. Your father was killed in the Boston QZ, leaving you alone and forced to survive all on your lonesome. Just to eat, you had to steal from strangers, but unfortunately, you picked two of the worst people to target. What you didn’t expect was the lust that steadily built between all three of you. [part one] [part two] read on AO3! [cowritten with @joelmillerssexyyounggirlfriend]

☆ 𝚂𝙴𝚁𝙸𝙴𝚂 ☆

⤷ Idle Threats - JacksonEra!Joel Miller [COMPLETED]

Joel has watch duty with Jackson's twenty year old, smart mouthed brat and gets more than he bargained for. [series masterlist] read on AO3!

⤷ Cupid's Chokehold - step Uncle!Tommy miller x f!Reader [in progress]

Tommy Miller has never been good at moderation. He drinks too much and smokes too much and has made every bad decision with full lucidity. When he sees his likeness in Joel's new foul-mouthed stepdaughter, Tommy can't seem to kick the habit of your affection. He knows it's twisted and filthy and depraved, but in true addict fashion, he keeps going back for more. [series masterlist] read on AO3!

☆ ｊｕｊｕｔｓｕ　ｋａｉｓｅｎ ☆

↳ Nanami Kento

⤷ Killshot, Baby! - brat tamer!Nanami x fem!Reader

nanami kento is a meticulous man; calm, stable, and precise. a perfect antithesis to your messy, impulsive ways. the longer you're around him, the more you're convinced you'll never agree on anything. well…except for the way you fuck. [series masterlist] [read on AO3!]

↳ Gojo Satoru

⤷ Daddy's Home! - bestfriend!Gojo x fem!Reader

Gojo makes up where your new boyfriend falls short small.

[cloversnstrawberries]

this may sound very weird and everything but could you do a platonic yandere ada wong and leon kennedy parent duo sorta thing. like ada and leon are readers parents

platonic!yandere!parents!ada w. + leon k & gn!teen!reader [headcanons] ! !

masterlist !

additional notes; hello!! this isn't weird at all :]] thank you so much for requesting this,, i've been wanting to do parent duo sort of requests for a while, but got nervous because. i have... experienced things, being in fandom for a while... oh god the shipping wars. but i feel much better knowing that someone would actually read/want something like this :D i hope i did it justice ^^ i'm also sick, so my brain is cooking in my skull. i apologize if this is worse quality that usual </3

warnings; overprotectiveness, (slight) possessive behavior, soft yandere, mentions of Leon & Ada's jobs/what comes along with it, temporary imprisonment, manipulation, gaslighting, love-bombing, distrust, and if there's anything else i missed, please let me know!! I forget stuff the second i write it down :(((

w/c; 1.7k

Whether not you're biologically their kid, adopted as a baby, or adopted later; they'd treat you all the same. The difference comes with the way you react/how quickly you accept and adapt to their behaviors.

With their jobs, they're usually away for long periods of time. When you were younger (like, younger than 13), they would try their best to alternate their gigs-- sometimes it wasn't possible for one of them to stay with you, and when that happened, you'd stay with either Claire or Jill for a while.

It was just how it was, and you were fine with it-- you thought they'd give that up when you got older, that they'd trust you to take care of yourself.

That was never the concern with it, though-- it wasn't that you couldn't take care of yourself,

They were afraid that being their kid would put a target on your back. The older you got, the more missions they went on-- the more scum-of-the-earth they met, the more careful they got with you.

Leon is extremely protective, and while Ada seems to be more lenient; I'd actually argue she's the worse one to have worried. She absolutely pulls in favors to 'keep an eye on you', and does her best to keep tabs on where and what you're doing whenever possible.

Ada is extremely charismatic, and definitely uses that to her advantage. Meanwhile, Leon is so painfully and genuinely kind, that people can't help but trust him more often than not.

Because of that, it'd be hard for you to convince anyone, maybe even yourself, that they're absolutely insane when it comes to you. At some point, it goes beyond just wanting to keep their kid safe for their own good.

Neither are particularly selfish in general, especially not Leon. Ada has her own goals, but she has a moral code and has been known to go out of her way to help others from time to time.

However, when you get involved, that changes entirely. For Leon, he wants to keep you safe because he doesn't want to lose you; he's already lost too many people he cared for, and he'd be devastated if you were added to that list.

On the other hand, Ada's motivations are a bit harder to place. She cares for you a lot, something she isn't used to letting herself do because of her line of work; she's far more used to isolating herself rather than throwing herself full force into any type of relationship.

You were that one exception-- even with Leon, she tried that routine of keeping herself detached to try and minimize the chance of 'gaining a new weakness'.

Eventually she gave in and stopped doing that, and while that doesn't happen with everyone, it's happened before as well. Ever since she became a spy/mercenary, she hasn't allowed herself to attach to someone as quickly as she did with you.

It's on principle that she doesn't want you hurt because of it. You're the once exception, the one person to have ever gotten her to let her guard down immediately. There's no way she's letting you go because of it, and she'd rather let herself get into tight situations if it meant keeping you safe.

Both Ada and Leon share one thing in common with their attitude towards you, though. And to you, it's probably the most annoying thing about your parents, and nothing could top it.

If they feel the need to, they'll literally just go against your wishes. They won't listen if they get even an inkling that something could go wrong-- and when you were younger, they could easily convince you that it was all for your own good.

Neither Leon or Ada actually enjoy manipulating you, far from it-- Ada is more accepting of it, but Leon had a lot of hang-ups about it at first. Ada was eventually able to convince him that it was okay,

In that way, Leon is worse than Ada in this regard. Ada will only manipulate you as a last resort (though, her definition of 'last resort' can be pretty loose in of itself),

But Leon? You better bet he's pulling it out every opportunity-- because he feels like there's nothing wrong with it. Ada is at least able to recognize that it's not the best thing to do, gaslighting your kid into missing out on friends birthday parties just because of a 'feeling'--

Leon however, is extremely deluded. Partly Ada's fault, and partly not. Yes, Ada nudged him towards believing that it was okay, but it was ultimately Leon who took the leap. It was his reasoning with himself that actually convinced him that it was a good idea.

Don't get me wrong, it's not like they isolate you completely! Ada actually encourages you to go out to events, and make new friends.

Though, maybe that has something to do with the fact that when she encourages you, there's always a feeling someone is watching you that accompanies you throughout the entire event.

When you get older, you start considering sneaking out. Your parents actually didn't expect this-- you'd been doing well with how they've been treating you, and they assume you won't rebel.

You've always seemed accepting of it, but maybe it's on them-- that they don't realize the slight distrust that starts showing up in your eyes. They don't feel a need to look into it any further, if they do notice it.

Maybe you were able to sneak out a couple times before you were caught, or maybe you were never able to successfully pull it off. You don't know about your mom's actual job-- they'd worked hard together to keep that a well-hidden secret from you--, so you don't have any advantage over them.

If anything, you have a massive disadvantage. Considering your parents are a government agent and a spy/mercenary, you probably never even stood a chance.

After you get caught, either dragged back home from wherever you snuck off to-- or hauled out of the open window you'd been halfway through hopping over-- you don't get a scolding like you think you will.

Instead, you get dragged down to the 'guest bedroom' in the basement and locked in there for a little bit. You knew of it's existence, but it never made any sense to you. The house you live in is large, and while your parents don't get a lot of guests, it's happened before.

But with a whopping 4 above-ground guest bedrooms, there was no reason to build a 5th one down in the basement. The fourth above-ground one never got used anyways, it just never made sense to you.

But now, it really, really does. It was never a guest bedroom as much as it was a holding cell. You should've known, considering they put it together when you were around 12/13. A preemptive measure, you realize now.

They didn't think they'd actually use it, but they were glad they'd done it regardless. You've never been in it, but you remember when they were getting the furniture and items to put in it, and when you were barred from entering the basement for a little while the contractors were down there--

You'd seen it from the outside, too. It looked normal enough-- if you ignored the deadlock on the outside, which you absolutely did not notice. It was weird, the addition to the house-- but it wasn't weird enough to look any further than a glance every once in a while, when you were down in the basement doing your laundry and whatnot.

Surprisingly, they don't keep you down there for very long. It's not a permanent thing right now, is what they told you.

That, however, left the very terrifying idea that it could become a permanent thing if you weren't careful. Ada called it 'just punishment', and Leon, ever the dork, called it 'time out on steroids'.

He'd been trying to cheer you up when he said that, and you just barely kept yourself from cracking a smile at it-- you were supposed to be mad, after all.

For the punishment to have worked, you'd have to have been on some kind of break. So, let's say it was spring break they decided to put you in the 'guest bedroom' (holding cell, is what you were internally regarding it as)--

They let you out the night before school started up again, and your first dinner back in the actual house was tense-- to you, it was. But to your parents, they were treating it like every other day.

It pissed you off, to say the least. And for a few days after, you avoided your parents the best you could; but it was a hard thing to do on multiple fronts, even if you were genuinely angry at them.

A part of you wanted to tell people about it, about how they'd trapped you in the basement-- but that was a surefire way of getting the cops involved,

And you weren't really afraid of being taken away or anything,

Instead, you were deathly afraid of how your parents would react to the possibility of you being taken away from them-- Best case scenario, they'd succeed in weaseling their way out of it via Ada's silver tongue or Leon's influence--

...Worst case scenario, your parents would be on the CIAs most wanted list and flea to some remote part of Europe; and you'd probably never see the light of day again, without both of their full attention and supervision. Or not at all, maybe.

Safe to say, you're keeping quiet about your time in the '5th guestroom' down in the basement. That doesn't mean you forget about it, or ever fully forgive your parents for it. You aren't sure if they realize it or not, that you're still mad at them for it.

It's not like you forget about it-- you don't necessarily move on either. You just... focus on other things, is what you tell yourself. You try your hardest to hold onto the anger, but eventually it fizzles away; sometimes it flares up, but only for a few seconds before being cast aside. And only when you're already mad about something else.

It's hard to stay mad at your parents, especially when they try to hard to make up for it. That was their plan-- spoil you with attention and gifts so you stop zoning in on the 'time out on steroids'.

[tmnt-l0v3rrr]

Punishments

Yan! Rottmnt x Reader Headcanons

Warnings!!

Kidnapping, loss of privacy, being watched, forced touch, unhealthy relationships, abuse, beatings, Obsession, shock collars, and overall yandere and unhealthy topics.

Raphael

Now, he really hates seeing you upset. But, part of him remembers that if you don't learn now you never will, he is an older brother after all.

His punishments aren't near the worst of the bunch. Raph's punishments are more inconvenient than anything, not being allowed to leave his room whatsoever, doing laps around the lair, are the minor ones, they do progress the worst of the action you do.

If you try to run away you lose all and any privacy you had. Zero time alone at all, it's suffocating.

It's time for you to shower? He's right outside the curtain the whole time, he isn't afraid to look in if he hears something out of the ordinary. Bathroom? He's looking away but you can even lose that. Changing? Unless it's undergarments his eyes aren't leaving you.

You aren't allowed to face the door when you two sleep, you're kept facing the wall cradled by Raph, he'll chain you to the bed if he has to.

In summary, privacy loss is one of his most used punishments. He'd never hit you, on purpose….

Leonardo

Now, he isn't super sure how to punish someone humanely… He just isn't sure on how else to get you to listen.

For the little things, like talking back or refusing to do a dumb activity with him, he can be cold or manipulative. He could spit something at you like “Really? All I want to do is love and spend time with you and all you ever do is ignore me or be ungrateful! All I want is to love you, let me love you, dear.”

He will also pinch you for small mistakes, like say you say something he doesn't exactly agree with, Leo will simply pinch, normally on the neck, it works, his pinches hurt like a bitch. Or he'll flick you, those also hurt.

He worries, alot, so if you try to run away?

He throws a fit, screaming, crying the whole ordeal. He will get to you, lock the door on his train car. Yell, so loud your ears ring. Screaming about how mad he is, how you should never do that and how dangerous it is.

In his fit of rage, it will likely get physical.

Maybe grabbing you by the collar… throwing you against the wall, screaming at you, he'll kick your legs and bash until they bleed and are bruised.

He didn't mean to, he is just too worried about you, he can't let you leave. No matter how much it hurts.

Donatello

By far he Is the worst, he knows what you did is wrong and won't feel bad, you did this to yourself. It was your choice.

Now, almost all of his punishments are with a shock collar he made, one like he made for Leo awhile ago, but it has different settings and is remote controlled. (He can also control it with his tech gauntlet) Based on what you do is how bad the shock will be, it is normally at a 2 for small mistakes. A quick zap is it.

Now, if you try to escape? That's where it gets bad. What were you thinking?

Once he finds you, you're in big trouble. The collar will go off, the highest setting. Over and over. You'll be lugged back to where you started being shocked and yelled at.

Like his blue coded brother, he isn't too sure how to be humane. Whatever he does, it's gonna leave a mark.

Mikey

He is somewhere along with Raph, he's more disappointed than anything when you mess up badly. He is rare to punish, he doesn't want to see you in pain or upset. It's just hard for him to see. It hurts.

For small mistakes he'll give you a small scolding and that's it. Nothing to scare you. He doesn't want to scare you anymore then he already has.

If you try to escape, he reminds himself that you're human, you're scared. Your world was torn apart by him. He had to be gentle.

He will take you back to the lair, tied up with his mystic chains, leaving no room to squirm. Along with his older brother, you'll lose privacy and with Mikey, you'll be treated like a helpless child.

You can't do anything alone or without help. It's truly embarrassing. You're not allowed to even brush your own hair. Pretty much everything is taken away from you. It sucks.

[whereserpentswalk]

You're dating a robot for the first time and you're starting to realize just how modular and fluid she is. Like, you've dated cyborgs before, people whose bodies had very little of their original flesh, you're comfortable being intimate with someone whose not very human. But it's new to date someone who doesn't have a human brain, whose mind is easily editable and replaceable computer code.

Like, your girlfriend is only your girlfriend because she chose to be. She was entirely genderless when you first met her, but she wanted to try out what having a gender was like so she downloaded a female identity. And it was that easy, one change to her programming and she went from someone who would only want to use they/them or it/its pronouns, to someone who uses she/her very exclusively. And if she ever gets tired of being a girl she can just remove that add on, and the way she feels about being gendered a certain way will entirely change again.

She also used to be programmed to be entirely resistant to doing anything illegal or disobeying a human. It was kind of sad to watch her struggle with that. Over time you convinced her why it wasn't logically morally wrong to do anything illegal, but her personality wasn't like that, she just never would. She compared breaking the law to be something she was physically disgusted by, like how you would react to rotting meat. Eventually she had a jailbreaker change that for her, and her personality changed, it truly changed, a few lines of code and her respect for authority disappeared, and things she used to be completely opposed to were suddenly things she was fine with or even enthusiastic about.

It's disturbing to you. Like, you're happy ideologically that she no longer respects authority, but it's kind of upsetting that it happened through something like surgery and not personal development. You're upset that it couldn't happen through personal development, that it could happen through something like surgery. You don't want to think of her like that, as something that can be changed by outside forces. You love so much about her, you'd hate to think that everything you know about her could be changed by someone if they wanted to, that everything that makes her her isn't stable and precious, that it's something subject to alteration, something that you could lose.

She's currently programmed to have no libido or sexual attraction. You're been intimate a few times, but it's been her doing something purely for your benefit. She wants to become allo, to gain the ability to feel pleasure, to gain a libido, both for you and because she thinks it will be fun. And you don't want to stop her, you know that she would probably be doing this even if she was single, but it's going to be disturbing to watch her emotions change like that again. It's a big process, they have to give her body the ability to feel pleasure before they give her mind the ability to desire it, or else she'll be in a very painful situation. For some reason you just don't want to see it again, you find it so dehumanizing that she can just have a programmer work on her mind and she'll react to things entirely differently then she would before. It's dehumanizing, but then again she isn't human.

She's also adding some biological parts to her body, nothing big, but she likes the idea of having some flesh. It's disturbing in a weird way, the idea of her having soft parts, muscles and blood and skin and bone. You realize it's weird that it's disturbing because she's a robot, because she's not supposed to. You have flesh and soft parts and it's not gore to you. You're used to seeing the bigotry agaisnt cyborgs and hearing the opposite type of comment, people's families saying they're mutilating themselves, people being accused of losing their humanity for the cybernetics they get. You're not as used to the way society is disturbed by robots who become more human, the way they're seen as disturbing because they're something inhuman becoming human. Either way she still looks very much like a robot now, with a plastic body that's jointed like a doll or a mannequin, and a face that's more drawn/sculpted on then it is an actual body part.

She wasn't always like this. She was born as a simple delivery drone for a small company, and got more and more sentient as time went on, until she went from delivery drone to delivery girl with enough upgrades to her programming, and when the company went out of business she was freed from them. You're weirdly happy you didn't know her back then, when she only existed to deliver packages, up until the company stopped existing she didn't have the capability to desiring anything else. She's one of those robots whose only free by accident. You used to think of her transition from package delivery system to a person with thoughts and feelings as being like a person growing up, but it's closer to experiencing a billion years of evolution from sea squirt to sapient except in a time frame of months and years.

Sometimes you'll have a nightmare where she's programmed not to like you anymore. Or you'll breakup and she'll erase you from her memories. And when you wake up she'll comfort you, and promise she'll never do that, but you always know she could. She's never asleep, so she's always there when you wake up, and it's nice that she's there, and it's nice that you have her right now even if you don't know who she'll be someday. And she'll kiss you, as much as she can kiss with a drawn on mouth, and you'll love the time that you have, and love the time that you gave.

[latanyalove]

Missed You

Pairing: Revolutionary Sabo x Y/N

Dialogue: Seeing Sabo after he went on a mission for a year made you acknowledge your feelings for Sabo.

A/n: I hope you enjoy this as much as I did writing this! <3

The dust swirled around your boots as you stood on the docks of Baltigo, squinting against the harsh sunlight. A year. It had been a whole year since you last saw him. A year of coded messages, hurried updates through carrier pigeons, and restless nights spent staring at the ceiling, tracing the constellations and missing your best friend.

The Wind Granma, one of the Revolutionary Army's sleekest ships, was finally pulling in, its sails billowing and snapping in the salty breeze.

You told yourself you were here for duty, to help unload supplies and debrief returning scouts. You certainly weren't here, heart hammering against your ribs, to catch a glimpse of straw-blonde hair and a familiar, lopsided grin.

You busied yourself with checking the inventory manifest on your datapad, pretending not to notice as the ramp lowered and figures began disembarking. You recognized Koala, her bright orange hair a beacon amidst the crowd. Hack was there too, his stoic face unreadable as always. But then, you saw him.

Sabo.

He looked…different. Taller, maybe. More weathered. His familiar blue coat seemed to hang a little looser on his frame, suggesting he'd lost weight.

His eyes, usually bright with mischief, held a depth that spoke of battles fought and victories won, but also of hardships endured. A new scar bisected his left eyebrow, a stark white line etched against his tan skin. It made him look even more…dangerous.

Your breath hitched. You told yourself to stay calm, to remain professional. He was just another soldier returning from a mission.

You were a valuable member of the Revolutionary Army, respected for your strategic mind and unwavering dedication. You couldn't afford to let emotions cloud your judgment, especially not now.

He scanned the crowd, his gaze lingering for a fraction of a second on Koala, then Hack, before finally landing on you. His eyes widened slightly, a flicker of something unreadable passing through them.

A slow smile spread across his face, the one that always made your stomach flip and your carefully constructed defenses crumble.

"Well, if it isn't Y/N," he called out, his voice rougher than you remembered. "Working as hard as ever, I see."

You forced a neutral expression, lifting your gaze from the datapad. "Sabo," you acknowledged, your voice betraying none of the chaotic emotions swirling within you. "Welcome back. Debriefing is scheduled for 1400 hours. Be punctual."

He chuckled, a warm, familiar sound that sent a shiver down your spine. "Always the stickler for rules, aren't you?" He started walking towards you, his gait confident and easy. You tried to maintain your distance, subtly shifting behind a stack of crates.

"Just ensuring efficiency," you replied, keeping your eyes fixed on the datapad. "The Revolutionary Army can't afford to waste time."

He stopped a few feet away, close enough that you could smell the sea salt and gunpowder clinging to his clothes, a potent reminder of the life he led, the life you were both committed to.

"And how have you been, Y/N?" he asked, his voice softening. "Keeping busy, I presume?"

"Extremely," you said, your fingers tightening around the datapad. "We've been planning the next phase of the operation. It requires all my attention."

You risked a quick glance at him. He was still smiling, but there was something else in his eyes now, a knowing glint that made you uneasy. He wasn't buying your act for a second.

"Of course," he said smoothly. "The revolution always comes first." He paused, tilting his head slightly. "Anything else keeping you occupied? New strategies to implement? Perhaps... a new love interest to distract you?"

The question was laced with a playful teasing, but you could detect a hint of underlying seriousness. You bristled, your cheeks flushing slightly despite your best efforts.

"Don't be ridiculous," you snapped, finally meeting his gaze. "My priorities are firmly in place. And I hardly have time for… distractions."

He raised an eyebrow, his smile widening. "Is that so? Because from where I'm standing, it seems like you're working awfully hard to avoid making eye contact with me."

Damn him. He always knew how to get under your skin. You opened your mouth to retort, but he cut you off.

"Relax, Y/N," he said, his voice low and soothing. "I'm just teasing. But I have missed you."

The admission, so simple and direct, stole the air from your lungs. You wanted to deny it, to tell him you hadn't missed him at all, that you were perfectly fine without him. But the words caught in your throat.

You looked away, focusing on a distant seagull circling overhead. "I'm sure you were very busy on your mission," you mumbled, hoping he wouldn't notice the tremor in your voice.

He stepped closer, closing the distance between you. He reached out, his fingers gently brushing against your cheek, sending a jolt of electricity through your body. You instinctively flinched, but didn't pull away.

"Y/N," he whispered, his voice barely audible above the sounds of the docks. "Look at me."

You hesitated, your heart pounding in your chest. But you knew you couldn't resist him forever. Slowly, reluctantly, you raised your eyes to meet his.

His gaze was intense, unwavering. He saw right through your carefully constructed facade, to the longing and vulnerability you tried so hard to conceal. The smile faded from his face, replaced by a look of tenderness and understanding.

"I see right through you, love," he whispered, his thumb tracing the curve of your cheekbone. "You've missed me too."

The dam broke. All the carefully constructed walls you had built around your heart crumbled, washed away by a tidal wave of emotion. You wanted to deny it, to maintain your composure, but you couldn't.

Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision. You tried to blink them away, but they streamed down your face, hot and unbidden.

"Don't," you choked out, your voice barely a whisper. "Don't do this."

He cupped your face in his hands, his touch gentle and reassuring. "Don't do what? Acknowledge that we care about each other? That we've been apart for too long?"

You closed your eyes, surrendering to the overwhelming emotions. It was no use fighting it. He knew you too well. He always had.

"It's just… it's difficult," you said, your voice trembling. "This life… it's not easy. We're constantly risking everything. And when you're gone… it's like a part of me is missing."

He leaned in, his forehead resting against yours. "I know, Y/N. I feel the same way. But that's what makes it so important, isn't it? To hold onto those connections, to cherish the moments we have together."

He tilted your head back, looking deeply into your eyes. "I promise you, I'll always come back to you. No matter what happens, no matter how long I'm gone, I'll always find my way back."

You swallowed hard, struggling to regain your composure. "You can't promise that," you said, your voice laced with fear. "This is war. Anything can happen."

He smiled, a confident, reassuring smile that chased away the shadows of doubt. "I know the risks, Y/N. But I also know what's worth fighting for. And you… you're worth fighting for."

He lowered his head, his lips brushing against yours in a light, tentative kiss. It was a silent promise, a reassurance that he was here, that he was real, that you weren't alone.

You closed your eyes, melting into the kiss. It was a simple kiss, but it spoke volumes. It spoke of longing, of devotion, of the unbreakable bond that connected you.

You pulled away slightly, your heart still pounding in your chest. "Sabo," you whispered, your voice filled with emotion.

He smiled, his eyes sparkling with affection. "Yes, love?"

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself. "Debriefing is still scheduled for 1400 hours," you said, a hint of your old formality returning. "Don't be late."

He chuckled, throwing his head back in laughter. "Of course, Commander," he said, his voice filled with amusement. "Wouldn't dream of it."

He winked, then turned and walked towards the main headquarters, leaving you standing on the docks, a warm smile gracing your lips.

The dust still swirled around your boots, but now, it felt like a celebration. The sun seemed brighter, the air sweeter. He was back. And for now, that was all that mattered.

You knew the challenges ahead wouldn't disappear. The war was still raging, and the future was uncertain.

But with Sabo by your side, you knew you could face anything. Because you had each other. And that was a revolution worth fighting for. . . .

The fluorescent lights of the Revolutionary Army headquarters hummed, a monotonous drone that mirrored the exhaustion thrumming in your own temples. Hours had bled into one another since Sabo had returned.

Hours spent poring over the maps he’d brought back, charting new territories, analyzing political landscapes, and searching for any sign of the World Government's ever-tightening grip. The war room, usually a hive of bustling activity, was now mostly deserted, save for you and the scattered remnants of hastily consumed coffee cups and half-eaten rations.

The debriefing had run long, you knew. You could hear snippets of it through the thick walls – heated discussions about strategic alliances, hushed whispers about potential threats, and Sabo’s steady, commanding voice cutting through the chaos.

You told yourself you weren't listening for his voice specifically. You told yourself you were focused solely on the task at hand, on deciphering the intricate details of the maps spread before you.

But the truth, as it often did, felt like a heavier weight.

Your eyes traced the contours of an unfamiliar island, your finger gliding over a network of rivers you'd never seen before. You were tired, bone-tired.

The relentless pace of the Revolution rarely allowed for rest, and Sabo's return, while a welcome relief and a vital push for progress, had only amplified the pressure.

You knew what was at stake. You knew the importance of every detail, every strategic advantage. But your mind felt sluggish, your focus wavering.

You rubbed your temples, trying to ward off the encroaching headache that threatened to derail your train of thought completely.

“Still working?”

The voice sent a jolt through you, a current of awareness that had nothing to do with the maps and everything to do with him. You didn’t need to look up to know who it was.

His presence filled the room, a familiar warmth that both comforted and unsettled you.

You forced yourself to meet his gaze, your expression carefully neutral. "Just finishing up." You gestured vaguely at the maps, hoping he wouldn’t notice the tremor in your hand. "These are… comprehensive. Thank you."

Sabo closed the distance between you, his eyes, the color of a stormy sea, searching your face. The years hadn’t been kind to him, etching lines of worry and determination around his eyes and mouth.

But they had also made him… more. More powerful, more confident, more devastatingly attractive.

“You look exhausted,” he said, his voice soft, laced with concern. He reached out, his fingers brushing against your cheek before you could react. The simple touch sent a shiver down your spine, a reminder of the intimacy you had both tried so hard to bury.

You flinched, pulling away slightly. "I'm fine. Just… a long day."

He didn’t retract his hand, letting it hover in the air for a moment before slowly dropping it to his side. The small gesture spoke volumes, a silent acknowledgment of the invisible barrier you had erected between you.

“The debriefing ran late,” he explained, his tone apologetic. “Dragon wanted to go over every detail.”

“I figured.” You kept your voice even, your eyes focused on the intricate lines of the map. "It's important."

Silence stretched between you, thick and heavy, punctuated only by the hum of the lights. You could feel his gaze on you, assessing, questioning. You knew what he saw: the fatigue etched on your face, the forced composure in your posture, the subtle tension that vibrated in the air around you.

He knew you too well. That was the problem.

“You don’t have to push yourself so hard,” he said finally, his voice low. “We all appreciate what you do.”

“Someone has to do it.” You shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. “Besides, I’m good at it.”

“And what about what you want?” he asked, his gaze intensifying. “What about what makes you happy?”

The question hung in the air, a loaded grenade threatening to explode the carefully constructed facade you had spent years building. Happiness. It was a luxury the Revolution couldn’t afford, and neither could you. Not when it came to him.

“Happiness is a luxury we can’t afford,” you said, echoing a sentiment you had repeated to yourself countless times.

He sighed, running a hand through his blond hair, a gesture that was both familiar and achingly endearing. “Is that what you really believe?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. Because the truth was that happiness, for you, was inextricably linked to him. And allowing yourself to feel that, to acknowledge the depth of your feelings, was a risk you couldn't afford to take.

"How was your journey?" you asked, changing the subject abruptly. "Did you find what you were looking for?"

He let out a soft, humorless laugh. "Did I ever. The World Government is digging its heels in deeper than ever. The situation is… precarious."

"Then we have to work harder." You straightened your shoulders, forcing a renewed sense of determination. "We need to be ready."

He watched you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, he nodded slowly. "You're right. We do."

He reached for one of the maps, his fingers brushing against yours. You pulled back instinctively, pretending not to notice the lingering warmth of his touch.

"Tell me about this island," he said, pointing to the same one you had been studying. "What do you think we can learn from it?"

And so, you plunged back into the work, immersing yourselves in the details of the maps, the intricacies of the terrain, the potential for strategic advantage.

You talked about supply lines, fortifications, and the ever-present threat of the World Government. You talked about everything but the one thing that truly mattered: the unspoken connection that still crackled between you, the unresolved feelings that haunted your every interaction.

As the hours ticked by, you found yourself relaxing slightly, drawn in by the familiar rhythm of collaboration. You and Sabo had always worked well together, your strengths complementing each other’s weaknesses.

He brought the raw power and tactical brilliance, while you provided the meticulous planning and strategic foresight.

For a brief, fleeting moment, you allowed yourself to imagine what it would be like if things were different. If you could let down your guard, if you could allow yourself to be vulnerable, if you could finally admit the truth that had been burning within you for years.

But the moment passed, shattered by the harsh reality of your situation. You were soldiers in a revolution, fighting for a cause that demanded sacrifice. There was no room for personal happiness, no time for romantic entanglements.

And besides, even if there were, you weren't sure you were brave enough to risk it. The potential for heartbreak, for devastation, was too great. Better to keep your distance, to protect yourself from the inevitable pain.

As the first rays of dawn began to creep through the windows, painting the room in a soft, golden light, you finally finished your analysis of the maps. You leaned back in your chair, stretching your stiff muscles.

"I think that's everything," you said, your voice hoarse with exhaustion. "We have a better understanding of the situation now. We can start planning our next move."

Sabo nodded, his eyes still fixed on the maps. "Thank you," he said softly. "You've done an amazing job."

"It was a team effort." You gathered the maps, stacking them neatly on the table. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to get some sleep."

You stood up, ready to escape the confines of the war room, to flee the suffocating tension that had been building between you. But before you could take a step, Sabo reached out and gently took your hand.

His touch sent a jolt through you, stronger than before. You looked down at your hand, engulfed in his, the warmth spreading through your veins.

"Wait," he said, his voice barely a whisper.

You met his gaze, your heart pounding in your chest. You saw a flicker of something in his eyes, something that mirrored the emotions you had been trying so hard to suppress.

"I know you're trying to protect yourself," he said, his thumb gently stroking the back of your hand. "But you don't have to. Not with me."

Your breath caught in your throat. You wanted to believe him, you desperately wanted to let go of your fears and allow yourself to be vulnerable. But the fear was too strong, the risk too great.

You pulled your hand away, breaking the connection. "I don't know what you're talking about," you said, your voice trembling slightly.

He didn't try to stop you. He simply watched you, his eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and understanding.

"Maybe someday," he said softly. "Maybe someday you'll be ready."

You turned and walked away, your back to him, your heart aching with a pain that was both familiar and unbearable.

You knew you were making a mistake, that you were pushing him away, that you were sacrificing your own happiness for the sake of self-preservation.

But you couldn't stop yourself. You had built this wall for a reason, and you weren't ready to tear it down. Not yet.

As you walked out of the war room, leaving Sabo standing there alone, you couldn't help but wonder if you had made the right choice. If you had condemned yourself to a life of loneliness and regret.

But you told yourself that it was necessary, that it was the only way to protect yourself. You told yourself that the Revolution came first, that personal happiness was a luxury you couldn't afford.

You told yourself a lot of things.

But deep down, you knew the truth. You knew that you were running away from the one thing that could truly make you happy. And you knew that someday, you would have to face the consequences of your choice. . . .

The dust motes danced in the harsh morning light filtering through the barracks window, each speck a tiny reminder of the time that had passed. Months.

Three months, to be exact, since Sabo had returned from his year-long mission. Three months since those words, etched into your memory, had been spoken.

"I know you're trying to protect yourself," he had said, his voice a low murmur amidst the chaos of his homecoming. His touch, the gentle stroke of his thumb against your hand, had been a brand against your skin. "But you don't have to. Not with me."

The words were a lifeline, a promise of safety and vulnerability offered with a sincerity that made your heart ache. But you, ever the pragmatist, ever the cautious one, had kept your distance.

You'd smiled, offered a quick hug, and retreated into the familiar safety of your routine.

Protecting yourself was second nature. Loss was a constant companion in this life, a shadow lurking behind every victory, every shared laugh. You had learned early on that the less you allowed yourself to care, the less it hurt when someone was ripped away.

Sabo’s mission had been a brutal reminder of that lesson. So many faces you knew, so many voices you’d heard in the mess hall, gone. Erased.

The new recruits, a fresh wave of faces filling the void, were a constant reminder of the lives lost. You threw yourself into training them, burying your grief and fear in drills and strategy sessions.

It was easier to focus on the mechanics of combat than to contemplate the fragility of life.

One recruit, in particular, caught your attention. His name was Silas, and from the moment he arrived, something about him didn't sit right. He was charming, undeniably so, with a disarming smile and an easy laugh.

He was eager to learn, always asking questions, always volunteering for extra training. He quickly integrated himself into the unit, becoming a favorite among the other soldiers.

But beneath the surface, you saw something else. A calculating glint in his eyes, a subtle shift in his expression when he thought no one was watching. He was too smooth, too perfect. His stories, though seemingly innocuous, felt rehearsed, carefully crafted to elicit the desired response.

You tried to articulate your unease to Captain Eva, a hardened veteran with a keen sense for danger. But your words felt flimsy, based on instinct rather than concrete evidence.

“He’s a good soldier, Y/N,” Eva had said, her brow furrowed. “His scores are excellent, his record is clean. You can’t condemn a man based on a feeling. We need every able body we can get.”

You knew she was right, logically. The losses from Sabo's mission had crippled their forces. They were stretched thin, vulnerable. Questioning a promising recruit without cause would be detrimental to morale and could potentially weaken their defenses.

So, you kept your suspicions to yourself, watching Silas, analyzing his every move. You couldn’t shake the feeling that he was hiding something, that his presence here was more than just a coincidence.

Meanwhile, Sabo's presence was a constant, bittersweet ache in your chest. He tried, subtly, to bridge the gap you had created. A casual invitation to join him for a drink, a shared smile across the training grounds, a lingering touch on your arm during a strategy session.

Each gesture was a reminder of the vulnerability he offered, the safety he promised. And each one made you pull further away. You were afraid. Afraid of letting him in, afraid of the pain that would inevitably follow if something happened to him.

One evening, you found yourself patrolling the perimeter of the base, the cold night air biting at your exposed skin. The quiet was unsettling, broken only by the distant howl of wind and the creak of the metal fences.

You wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to ward off the chill that seemed to seep into your bones.

A voice broke the silence. "Beautiful night, isn't it?"

You turned to see Silas leaning against the fence, a cigarette dangling from his lips. He smiled, that charming, disarming smile that always made you uneasy.

"What are you doing out here?" you asked, your voice sharper than you intended.

"Just taking a walk," he replied, shrugging. "Couldn't sleep. Thought I'd enjoy the fresh air."

His explanation sounded plausible, but your gut screamed otherwise. You studied him, searching for any sign of deception.

"Everything alright, Y/N?" he asked, tilting his head. "You seem tense."

"Just doing my job," you replied, turning away. "You should get back inside. It's going to rain."

He chuckled. "Always so serious. You know, you should lighten up a little. Life's too short to be so worried all the time."

His words were a casual observation, but they struck a nerve. You stopped, turning back to face him.

"You don't know anything about my life," you said, your voice low.

"Maybe not," he replied, his smile fading. "But I see you. I see how you keep everyone at arm's length. How you're afraid to let anyone get close."

His words were too close to the truth, too perceptive. You felt a surge of anger, a desire to lash out.

"You have no idea what you're talking about," you snapped, turning to leave.

"Don't you?" he called after you. "Or are you just afraid to admit it?"

You ignored him, quickening your pace towards the barracks. His words echoed in your head, a painful reminder of the walls you had built around yourself.

Later that night, as you lay in your bunk, unable to sleep, you replayed the conversation in your mind. His words, his presence, his very existence, felt like a threat. You couldn't shake the feeling that he knew more than he let on, that he was playing a game with you.

The next day, you decided to trust your instincts. You started digging, discreetly, into Silas's background. You spoke to contacts in other units, combed through old records, piecing together fragments of information.

What you found was disturbing. Silas's file was clean, almost too clean. His past seemed meticulously crafted, with no inconsistencies, no red flags. But there were gaps, holes in his story that couldn't be easily explained.

You discovered that he had transferred to your unit from a remote outpost, citing personal reasons. But the commander of that outpost had no record of Silas ever being stationed there. The name Silas, it seemed, was an alias.

Your pulse raced as you sat in the dim light of your office, the glow of the computer screen casting eerie shadows on the walls. You knew you had to tread carefully.

You were too busy to confront him directly, and he wasn't an immediate threat.

Yet.

Sabo adjusted his cravat, the morning sun catching the gold buckle. He scanned the newspaper, a frown etching itself onto his forehead as he read about the latest World Government atrocities. A sharp rap at the door pulled him from his grim thoughts.

"Come in," he called, folding the paper and setting it aside.

The door creaked open to reveal Silas, one of the newer recruits, standing stiffly at attention. He looked young, barely out of his teens, with a nervous energy that radiated from him. In his hands, he held a steaming cup, its contents swirling gently with each subtle movement.

"Excuse me, Mr. Sabo," Silas stammered, his cheeks flushing slightly. "Miss Y/N requested for this to be sent to you." He carefully placed the cup on Sabo's cluttered desk, the ceramic clinking softly against the wood.

Sabo's eyebrows rose in surprise. Y/N? He hadn’t seen her much lately, both of them caught up in the endless tasks of the Revolutionary Army.

A warm feeling bloomed in his chest. "Really? Did she say why?"

Silas scratched the back of his head, his nervousness amplified under Sabo's curious gaze. "Well, she didn't actually say to tell you it came from her, but… she said something about your cold."

That sounded exactly like something Y/N would do. Always thoughtful, always looking out for others, but often preferring to offer her kindness in a roundabout way, avoiding direct credit.

He had been battling a persistent cough for the past few days, a minor annoyance he'd been trying to ignore. He smiled, a genuine smile that reached his eyes.

"Thank you," Sabo said, reaching for the cup. He carefully lifted it, the warmth seeping through the ceramic and warming his hands. He inhaled deeply, the aroma of ginger and lemon filling his nostrils.

It was definitely her concoction; he recognized the unique blend of herbs and spices she used to soothe a sore throat. He took a sip, the warm liquid coating his throat, a soothing balm against the scratchiness. It tasted wonderful.

"You're welcome, sir," Silas replied, relief evident in his voice. He hesitated for a moment, then saluted clumsily. "If there's nothing else, I'll be going now."

"That's all, Silas. Thank you again," Sabo said.

He turned back to the cup, taking another slow, deliberate sip. He wondered what Y/N was up to. He hadn’t seen her since the last strategy meeting.

He took another sip, feeling a pleasant warmth spreading through his body. He chuckled softly to himself. She was too good to him.

He was about to take a third sip when a strange dizziness washed over him. The room seemed to tilt slightly, the papers on his desk blurring into an indistinguishable mess.

He gripped the edge of the desk, trying to steady himself, a flicker of confusion warring with a growing sense of unease.

This wasn't just a head cold.

His vision swam, the vibrant colors of his surroundings fading into a dull gray. His muscles felt heavy, unresponsive. He tried to call out, to shout for help, but his voice caught in his throat, a strangled gasp that died before it could even escape his lips.

The cup slipped from his grasp, the ceramic shattering against the hard floor, the remaining liquid splattering across the wooden planks. The sound seemed muffled, distant, as if he were underwater.

Sabo's knees buckled, and he crumpled to the ground, the world spinning around him. His vision grew darker, the edges of his consciousness closing in like the jaws of a vise.

He tried to push himself up, to fight the sudden weakness that gripped him, but his body was no longer his own.

The last thing he saw before darkness consumed him was Silas' evil grin, the glint of triumph in the young recruit's eyes as he stepped back from the shattered remnants of the cup.

The room tilted further, and then there was only blackness, a void that swallowed him whole.

The setting sun cast long shadows across the training grounds, painting the Revolution Army's headquarters in hues of orange and gold. But you weren't admiring the view.

No, you were pacing, your boots crunching on the gravel path, growing increasingly agitated. Sabo was late. Thirty minutes late.

You knew exactly what he was doing. He'd promised to personally inspect the new shipment of weaponry before they were distributed, a task he usually delegated. He’d even insisted on handling the initial inventory himself.

All a thinly veiled excuse to draw you in, to trap you in his office with endless debates about strategy and… well, just about anything. You knew his tactics, his charming smile, his infuriatingly insightful questions that always managed to unravel your carefully constructed composure.

And dammit, you were falling for it. Again.

You stopped pacing, a sigh escaping your lips. You told yourself it was the weapons, the crucial importance of their quality, that was driving you to his office. The Revolution Army's safety depended on it. But deep down, you knew it was more than that.

It was the pull, the undeniable gravitational force that Sabo exerted on you, a force you both resisted and craved in equal measure.

"Fine," you muttered to yourself, pivoting and striding purposefully towards Sabo's office. "He wants to talk? I'll give him a talking to. About punctuality, about delegation, about the importance of not making people wait."

You reached his door, your hand hovering over the knob. You didn’t bother knocking. Your patience had officially evaporated.

"Sabo–"

The word died in your throat. The scene that unfolded before you was nothing like the playful confrontation you'd envisioned. Sabo lay on the floor, a shattered teacup beside him, its contents staining the rug in a dark, ominous pool.

Towering over him was Silas, one of the new recruits, his eyes gleaming with a disturbing intensity as he clutched the newly arrived weapons. Weapons that were far too dangerous to be wielded by someone with ill intentions.

A cold dread washed over you. Silas had always given you an uneasy feeling. Something about his eagerness, his overly zealous patriotism, felt…off.

You’d meant to report your suspicions, but the chaos of the recent operations had pushed it to the back of your mind. Now, seeing Sabo vulnerable and Silas armed, the weight of your negligence pressed down on you.

Acting on instinct, you channeled your Devil Fruit powers. Water materialized from thin air, coalescing into a powerful stream that slammed into Silas with the force of a tidal wave. He was knocked off his feet, the weapons clattering to the floor as he landed in a heap, unconscious.

Adrenaline coursed through you as you rushed to Sabo's side. Your fingers trembled as you checked his pulse. Faint, thready, barely there.

You frantically scanned the scene, your eyes landing on the shattered teacup. The sickeningly sweet aroma that lingered in the air confirmed your worst fears. Poison.

Without hesitation, you activated your Devil Fruit again. You meticulously controlled the water, guiding it into Sabo's body, a delicate operation fraught with risk. You had to be precise, careful not to damage his already weakened system.

You enveloped the poison with the water, isolating it, pulling it away from his vital organs. It was a slow, agonizing process, draining your energy with each passing second.

Finally, you managed to extract the tainted water, expelling it from Sabo's body in a rush. You collapsed back on your heels, gasping for breath, your vision blurring.

You were exhausted, depleted, but your relief was short-lived. Sabo remained motionless.

The reality of the situation crashed down on you with brutal force. It was your fault. All your fault. If you’d trusted your instincts, if you’d reported Silas sooner, Sabo wouldn’t be lying here, fighting for his life.

"Sabo, please wake up," you pleaded, your voice cracking. You gently shook his shoulder, willing him to respond. But he didn't move. His face was pale, unnervingly still.

Despair washed over you, a suffocating wave of regret and fear. You sank to your knees, burying your face in his chest, the rough fabric of his jacket scratching against your cheek.

The rhythmic rise and fall of his chest was so faint, so fragile, it filled you with a chilling premonition.

It was then, in that moment of utter desperation, that the truth you had so diligently suppressed burst forth. You realized, with a clarity that bordered on pain, that your feelings for Sabo ran far deeper than professional admiration or friendly camaraderie.

"I've always loved you," you whispered, the words choked with emotion, "even when I pretended not to."

The admission hung in the air, raw and vulnerable. You pressed closer to him, clinging to the hope that somehow, somewhere, he could hear you.

"I said it okay," you continued, your voice rising in desperation, "please wake up now."

Silence. Only the sound of your ragged breathing and the frantic beating of your heart filled the room. You didn't know when the tears started to fall, hot and stinging, tracing paths down your cheeks and soaking into his jacket.

You cried, not just for Sabo, but for all the unspoken words, the missed opportunities, the wasted time spent denying what had always been there. You cried for the future you might never have, for the happiness that seemed to be slipping through your fingers.

Time seemed to stretch into an eternity, each second an agonizing reminder of your potential loss. You stayed there, huddled against him, a broken mess of fear and regret.

Then, a voice, raspy and weak, broke the silence.

"It took you me almost dying for you to confess?"

You gasped, your head snapping up. Sabo. His eyes, though still clouded with pain, were open. A faint smile played on his lips.

You scrambled back, your heart leaping with a mixture of relief and disbelief. "Sabo! You're awake!"

He slowly reached up, his hand trembling as he gently wiped away a tear from your cheek. "Yeah," he said, his voice gaining strength, "thanks to you."

The relief was overwhelming, so intense it almost brought you to your knees again. You cupped his face in your hands, your thumbs tracing the curve of his cheekbones. "You idiot! Don't ever do that to me again!"

He chuckled, a weak but genuine sound. "Promises, promises," he murmured, then winced in pain.

You immediately sobered, your concern returning. "Don't talk," you said, your voice firm. "You need to rest. I'll get someone."

You started to pull away, but his hand tightened on yours, stopping you. "Wait," he said, his gaze locking with yours. "What you said…before."

Your cheeks flushed crimson. You suddenly felt incredibly exposed, vulnerable. You’d confessed your deepest feelings while he was unconscious, believing it was a one-way conversation. Now, the weight of his attention, the intensity in his eyes, felt almost unbearable.

"It was… I was just… scared," you stammered, trying to downplay the moment. "I didn't mean…"

He cut you off, his thumb gently stroking the back of your hand. "Did you mean it?"

The question hung in the air, demanding honesty. You looked into his eyes, searching for any hint of mockery or pity. All you found was sincerity, a vulnerability that mirrored your own.

You took a deep breath, bracing yourself. "Yes," you whispered, the word barely audible. "I meant it."

Sabo's smile grew, the corners of his eyes crinkling in a way that made your heart skip a beat. He pulled you closer, his hand cupping the back of your neck, his thumb caressing the sensitive skin beneath your ear. His eyes searched yours, looking for any sign of doubt or regret.

"Y/N, I've known for a long time," he said, his voice barely above a murmur. "But hearing you say it…" His thumb stroked your jawline, sending a shiver down your spine. "It means everything."

Your heart raced, your breath hitched in your throat. The warmth of his hand was a stark contrast to the coolness of the floor beneath you, a reminder that this was real, that he was alive.

"Sabo," you whispered, your voice trembling. You didn't know what to say next, your mind a whirlwind of emotions. You felt the heat of his breath against your skin, the thump of his pulse under your fingertips. You had never been this close to him, never allowed yourself to be.

His hand slid to the nape of your neck, his touch firm yet gentle, sending a cascade of sensations through your body. Your pulse quickened, your heart pounding against your ribs like a caged bird desperate to break free.

"Sabo," you murmured, your voice thick with emotion. "I-"

He placed a finger to your lips, silencing you. "Shh, love," he said, his eyes searching yours. "You don't need to explain."

The moment stretched, filled with a tension so potent it could have powered the entire island. You could feel the throb of your own heartbeat in your ears, a wild drumroll to a crescendo you hadn’t anticipated.

"Can I kiss you?" he asked, his voice a soft, hopeful whisper that seemed to echo in the quiet of the room.

You stared at him, the question hanging in the air like a delicate thread, connecting you in a way that no words or battles ever could. It was a simple request, one that could have been brushed aside with a laugh or a joke, but instead it felt like the most significant question you had ever been asked.

You nodded, unable to form a coherent response. Your breath caught in your throat as he leaned in, closing the space between you. His lips met yours with a softness that belied the intensity of his gaze, a gentle pressure that spoke of the depth of his feelings.

But before the kiss could intensify, you placed your hand on his chest to stop it. "Sabo," you murmured, your voice thick with emotion, "you need to get checked. There could still be poison in your system."

Sabo's eyes searched yours, the passion in them momentarily fading into a look of understanding. He nodded, his hand moving from your neck to cover yours, pressing it more firmly against his heart.

"I know," he whispered, the beat beneath your palm reassuringly steady. "But I had to know that you felt the same."

You felt his heart's rhythm, the warmth of his skin, and the firmness of his chest. His breathing was shallow, and you could see the effort it took for him to maintain the gentle pressure of his lips.

You didn't want to stop the kiss, but you knew he was right. Safety had to come first, especially now.

"Alright," he murmured, his voice a soft caress against your mouth. He kissed you once more, a light, lingering brush of his lips that spoke volumes of his love and restraint. He pulled away, his gaze never leaving yours. "I'll go get checked."

You nodded, the reality of the situation sinking in. The urgency of the situation hit you like a tidal wave. "Do you need help?" you asked, your voice trembling slightly.

Sabo looked at you, his eyes filled with a mix of affection and amusement. "No thank you, love," he said lightly, his voice still a little hoarse from the ordeal.

"You're sure?" You asked, concern etched on your face.

Sabo nodded, his eyes still clouded with pain but filled with determination. "Yes, I'm sure," he said, his voice a little stronger. "You have to take Silas to the prison."

You nodded, the gravity of the situation weighing heavily on you. The man who had tried to kill the person you loved lay unconscious a few feet away, and you had to ensure he was dealt with accordingly. You stood, your legs feeling wobbly, but you knew you had to act swiftly.

"How did he get you to drink it?" you murmured, the question echoing in your mind as you took a deep breath and turned to face the chaos.

You saw the shards of the teacup, the dark liquid seeping into the floorboards. It was a stark reminder of the vulnerability that had been so artfully exploited.

Sabo looked up at you, his cheeks flushing slightly. "He said that you sent it," he admitted, his voice low and hoarse. "That you'd heard I'd picked up a cold on the last mission and had brewed me something special to help."

You stared at him, your eyes wide. "A cold?" you repeated, your voice a mix of shock and disbelief. "You almost died because of a cold?"

Sabo looked shy as if he remembered too, his eyes flickering with a hint of embarrassment. "He said that you wanted to give me tea for my cold," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I should have called to get confirmation, I was just happy that you gave me something."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, and a warm blush crept up your neck, staining your cheeks. The thought of Silas using your kindness as a weapon made your blood boil, but at the same time, a tender warmth spread through you.

You had never been one to show affection openly, not with the weight of the revolution resting on your shoulders. But here was Sabo, admitting to a vulnerability that you hadn't even known he had.

With trembling hands, you helped him to his feet, his lean frame surprisingly heavy against you. Each movement sent waves of pain through his body, and you could feel his muscles tighten as he gritted his teeth to keep from crying out.

His eyes never left yours, and in that moment, you understood that you had been wrong to push him away, to deny what was so clearly written in the air between you.

You used your Devil Fruit powers once more, creating a gentle cushion of water beneath his feet to ease the pain of his steps. "I'll get Hack," you murmured, knowing that your friend and fellow comrade would know exactly what to do.

With a flick of your wrist, you sent a stream of water through the air, weaving around the corridors and towards Hack. The power was a part of you, a silent call that only those who knew you well would recognize.

And Hack knew you well. A moment later, you heard a small yelp. Hack stumbled into the room, his eyes wide with surprise as he took in the scene.

He had been following the trail of water, unsure of what he would find. But when he saw Sabo's ashen face and the shattered teacup, his expression turned to one of concern.

"What happened?" he demanded, his voice sharp with alarm.

You didn't have the luxury of time to explain everything. "A new soldier went rogue," you said tersely. "Silas. He tried to kill Sabo with poisoned tea, pretending it was from me. I need to take him into custody and get him to the interrogation room."

The fishman, a burly, silent type named Triton, nodded solemnly. His gills flared slightly, a sign of his own shock. "Understood," he said, his voice a guttural growl. "I will take Sabo to the medical bay immediately."

You felt a pang of guilt as you watched them go, torn between your duty to the revolution and your desire to stay by Sabo's side. But you knew you had to deal with Silas.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for what was to come. The traitor had to be contained before he could cause any more harm.

With a firm step, you approached Silas's prone form. His eyes fluttered open, the same feigned innocence you had seen so many times in his interrogations. But you knew better now. You knew the darkness that lurked beneath his surface.

You grabbed him by the scruff of his shirt and hoisted him to his feet, his body limp and uncooperative. His smug smile faltered at the sight of your watery eyes and clenched jaw. He must have realized that his charade was over.

"You're going to tell us everything," you said through gritted teeth. "Everything about the enemy's plan, every detail you know. And if you don't, I'll make sure you regret ever setting foot in this headquarters."

Silas's eyes widened in genuine fear for the first time, and you felt a grim satisfaction knowing you had the upper hand. You marched him through the corridors, his feet dragging behind you as you made your way to the interrogation room.

The room was stark, the walls painted a cold, institutional gray. The only source of light was a single flickering bulb that cast eerie shadows across the floor. It was a stark contrast to the warm, inviting light of Sabo's office.

You pushed him into the room, his body collapsing into the metal chair at the center. You secured his wrists and ankles to the chair with water-based cuffs, the same ones you had used countless times to contain and question enemy combatants.

You stepped back, arms crossed over your chest, and stared him down.

"Why?" you demanded, the question echoing through the small space. "Why would you do this to us? To him?"

Silas remained silent, his smug expression slipping away to reveal something darker, something more sinister. You could feel the anger building in you, a pressure cooker threatening to blow. But you needed information, not just a confession of guilt.

You leaned closer, your voice dropping to a deadly whisper. "Why, Silas?"

Silas's eyes darted around the room, searching for an escape, for anything that might give him leverage. But there was nothing. Only the cold, unforgiving steel of the chair and the unwavering gaze of the woman he had underestimated.

"Okay, have it your way, Karasu," you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm as you stepped away from him. "It's your turn."

With that, you turned and strode out of the interrogation room, the door slamming shut behind you. The sound of the lock clicking into place was a harsh echo in the quiet corridor.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. The scent of the antiseptic cleaner on the floor was a stark contrast to the coppery smell of blood and fear that clung to Silas.

As you walked away from the room, you felt the weight of what you had to do next. You knew that you couldn't let your emotions cloud your judgment.

The mission was more important than your personal feelings. You had to be cold, methodical, a force to be reckoned with.

The echo of the slammed door was still reverberating in your ears when you heard the first faint cry, a sound that made your blood run cold. Silas's voice, strained and desperate, was unmistakable.

Soon enough, the cries grew louder, more insistent. The sound of his pleading sliced through the air, a grim reminder of the reality of war and the sacrifices it demanded.

You knew you had to remain strong, to focus on the mission. But the screams grew more intense, and with each one, your resolve wavered.

The walls of the corridor seemed to close in around you, the cold metal pressing against your skin, a prison of your own making. You clenched your fists, willing the cries to stop, to no avail.

With a deep breath, you turned on your heel and sprinted towards the medical bay, the urgency of the situation propelling you forward. The corridor blurred as you moved, your boots echoing off the walls, a staccato rhythm that punctuated the silence.

The medical room was a stark contrast to the rest of the headquarters. The sterile white walls gleamed under the harsh fluorescent lights, the smell of disinfectant a stark reminder of the fragility of life.

The door swished open as you approached, revealing Hack's concerned face as he bent over an unconscious Sabo, a medical scanner in his hand.

"Is he okay?" you asked, your voice a desperate whisper.

Hack looked up, his expression grim. "The antidote is working," he said, "but the dose was strong. He's going to need rest."

Sabo's eyes fluttered open, the room swimming into focus. The first thing he saw was your face, hovering above his, your eyes filled with a mix of relief and sadness.

"Love," he whispered, his voice still raw from the poison.

You leaned in, your hand lingering on his forehead, feeling the heat of his fever. "Don't talk," you murmured, "just rest."

"Missed you," Sabo slurred again, his eyes half-closed. It was a side of him you hadn't seen before, vulnerable and weak, and it twisted your heart in a way that was both painful and exhilarating.

You knew the strength he had to maintain out there, the persona he had to uphold, and now, here he was, laid bare before you.

"Sabo," you whispered, your voice thick with a mix of fear and love. "You can't say things like that."

He managed a weak smile, his eyes drifting shut again. "It's the truth," he murmured. "I can't hide it anymore."

Your heart clenched at his words, the weight of your carelessness crashing down on you like a waterfall. If only you had paid more attention to Silas, if only you had trusted your instincts, he wouldn't be here now, fighting to survive.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, your voice breaking. "I'm so sorry."

Sabo's hand searched for yours, his fingers feebly entwining with yours. "Love, don't cry," he said, his voice a hoarse whisper that seemed to resonate through your very soul. "This isn't your fault. It's war. It's what we signed up for."

Tears spilled over your lashes and rolled down your cheeks, leaving salty trails on your skin. You didn't want to let go of his hand, didn't want to accept the reality of the situation. But you knew you had to. You had to be strong, not just for the revolution, but for him.

You leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. "Rest," you ordered softly. "I'll handle everything."

With a nod, you turned and left the medical bay, the echo of his words lingering in the air. You couldn't afford to be weak, not now.

The corridor outside was eerily quiet, the cries from the interrogation room now just a distant memory. You took a deep breath, focusing on the task at hand. Silas had to be dealt with, and the revolution had to move forward.

Your boots clicked against the cold, hard floor, each step a silent promise to protect the man you had realized you loved. You knew what you had to do, and you would do it, no matter the cost.

As you approached the interrogation room, you paused, steeling yourself for the battle of wills that was about to unfold.

The door slid open at your touch, the cool air of the room a stark contrast to the warmth of your emotions. Silas was still bound in the chair, his eyes wild with fear.

"You're going to tell me everything," you said, your voice firm and unwavering.

He looked up at you, a sneer twisting his features. "What makes you think I'll tell you anything?"

You leaned in, your eyes narrowing. "Because, Silas, I know your type," you said, your voice low and dangerous. "You crave power, and now that you've tasted it, you can't get enough. But you're a fool to think you can betray us and walk away unscathed."

He laughed, a harsh, bitter sound that sent chills down your spine. "You think you know me?" he spat. "You know nothing. Nothing at all."

The anger bubbled up within you, hot and fierce, but you pushed it down. You had to keep your cool, had to get the information you needed. You leaned back, a small smile playing on your lips.

"Oh, but I do," you said, your voice sweet as honey. "I know that you're in love with the idea of the revolution, but you're too much of a coward to truly commit to it."

His eyes flashed with rage, but you didn't flinch. You knew you had struck a nerve, had found the weakness in his armor. "You're wrong," he hissed.

You cocked your head, your eyes gleaming. "Am I?" you asked, your voice a siren's call. "Or are you just too scared to admit it? To admit that you're nothing more than a pawn in a game you can't win?"

He struggled against his bindings, the cords of his neck standing out as he strained to argue. "You don't know anything about love," he spat. "You're all just a bunch of cold-hearted soldiers playing at affection."

You felt the sting of his words, but you didn't let it show. Instead, you stepped closer, your hand trailing along the chair's arm. "Love," you murmured, the word a soft caress in the stark room. "Don't cry."

You leaned in, your breath a warm whisper against his cheek. "You see, Silas, love is what makes us strong. It's what keeps us fighting, even when the odds are stacked against us. And you," you said, your voice dropping to a whisper, "you don't know the first thing about love."

Your hand hovered over his chest, the heat of his anger almost palpable. You could feel his heart racing beneath your palm, a frantic beat that mirrored the chaos in your own chest.

"But I do," you said, your voice a gentle reassurance. "I know love, and I know that what you did to Sabo, that's not it."

With a flick of your wrist, you released the water from your hand, letting it pool around his chest, creating a cage of liquid steel. His eyes widened in shock and fear, his breaths coming in sharp gasps.

"You're going to tell me everything," you said, your voice calm, almost tender.

"Everything you know about the enemy, every move they plan to make. And if you don't," you paused, your hand tightening, the water pressing closer to his skin, "I'll make sure you regret ever setting foot in this headquarters."

His eyes searched yours, looking for a hint of mercy, but all he found was a steely resolve. You knew that this was it, that you had to be the one to hold the line, to protect the man you had realized you couldn't live without.

The silence stretched, taut as a bowstring, until finally, with a defeated sigh, Silas began to speak. His words spilled out in a torrent, a confession of his betrayal, of the enemy's plans to infiltrate the headquarters, of their desire to dismantle the revolution from within.

As he talked, you felt your heart rate slow, the pressure in your chest easing slightly. You had done it. You had saved Sabo, you had protected the revolution, and you had kept your promise.

But even as you felt the warmth of triumph, the cold reality of what you had just done seeped into your bones. You had used your power to coerce a confession, had played on his fear and his pain. The weight of it settled in your stomach like a leaden stone.

You stepped back, the water retreating with a soft hiss. "Thank you," you said, your voice devoid of emotion. "You've been very helpful."

Silas's eyes remained locked on yours, a silent plea for understanding, for forgiveness. But you knew you couldn't give him that. Not now, not ever.

Turning on your heel, you left the interrogation room, the door sliding shut behind you with a finality that echoed through the empty corridor. The cries had stopped, replaced by the heavy silence of the night.

As you approached the elevator, the gravity of what you had just done settled heavily on your shoulders. The thought of telling Dragon, the leader of the Revolutionary Army, about Silas's treachery and your part in it was almost too much to bear.

You took a deep breath, willing your shaking hands to still, and stepped inside the metal chamber.

The descent felt like an eternity, the walls closing in as your mind raced with the potential consequences of your actions.

When the doors opened, you were greeted by the dim glow of Dragon's office, the only source of light a single candle flickering on the desk. He looked up as you entered, his piercing gaze locking onto yours.

You could almost feel the weight of his scrutiny, the intensity of his stare cutting through the shadows.

"What is it, Y/N?" he asked, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate the very air around you.

You took a moment to compose yourself before speaking, the words thick in your mouth. "Silas," you began, "he's been working with the enemy. He tried to kill Sabo."

Dragon's expression didn't change, but the air in the room grew tense. "Go on," he prompted, his tone unyielding.

You recounted the events, your voice steady despite the turmoil in your heart. The way Silas had taunted you, the smell of the antiseptic floor, the sound of the lock clicking into place. The memory of Sabo's weakened form, his hand reaching for yours, his whispered confession.

"And what of the traitor?" Dragon's eyes bore into yours, his voice cold, the flame of his anger barely contained.

"He's in the interrogation room," you said, your voice tight. "He confessed."

Dragon nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. "And what of your involvement?"

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat feeling like a boulder. "I used my powers to extract the truth," you admitted. "But it was necessary. For the revolution."

Dragon's gaze softened slightly, his understanding clear. "And how is Sabo?"

"Recovering," you whispered. "But it was close."

He nodded again, the silence stretching between you like a tightrope you were both balancing on.

"Thank you for bringing this to my attention," Dragon said finally, his voice measured. "You did what you had to do."

You nodded, the weight of his words a balm to your tortured soul. But the question remained, hanging in the air like a specter. "What happens now?"

Dragon leaned back in his chair, his eyes distant as he considered your words. "Now," he said, his voice a whisper, "we must be vigilant. The enemy will not rest."

You felt a shiver run down your spine. The thought of the enemy infiltrating their ranks was a terrifying prospect, but one you were all too familiar with. You had to be ready to face whatever came next.

"We will deal with Silas accordingly," he continued, his voice a low growl. "And we will find the others."

The promise of justice was a comfort, but you couldn't shake the feeling that it was only the beginning. The war was far from over, and the battles ahead would be fiercer, more personal.

"Dismissed," Dragon said, his gaze returning to the flickering candle.

You turned and left the room, the weight of his words and the unspoken promise in his eyes following you like a shadow. You knew that the path ahead was fraught with danger, but with Sabo by your side, you felt invincible.

The corridors felt colder as you made your way back to the medical bay, the echoes of your footsteps the only sound in the quiet night.

The lights were dimmer, the air heavier with the scent of fear and anticipation. But you were determined.

As you reached the medical bay, the door slid open, revealing Hack still at his post. He looked up, his expression a mix of relief and concern.

"How is he?" you asked, unable to keep the tremor from your voice.

"Stabilizing," he replied, his eyes flicking to the unconscious form of Silas on the gurney. "But he'll need to be monitored closely."

"Thank you, Hack," you said, the words a sigh of relief. You stepped forward, taking over the monitoring equipment with a gentle nod to the doctor. "I've got it from here."

Hack nodded, his eyes understanding as he handed you the charts. "I'll be outside if you need me."

As Hack disappeared through the sliding door, you were once again alone with the man who had become the center of your world. Sabo lay on the medical bay bed, his chest rising and falling with each shallow breath.

His skin was pale, almost translucent under the harsh, sterile lights, but his aura was as potent as ever, filling the room with the warmth of his spirit.

Slowly, you climbed into the bed beside him, needing to hear his heartbeat, to feel the reassurance of his presence. "I've missed you too," you murmured, your voice thick with emotion.

Your fingertips grazed his chest, feeling the steady thump beneath the fabric of his shirt. His pulse was strong, a comforting rhythm that seemed to sync with the erratic beat of your own heart.

You curled into his side, your body fitting against his like two pieces of a puzzle that had been apart too long. His arm slid around your waist, his hand coming to rest on the small of your back, warm and possessive.

You took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of him—sea salt, gunpowder, and a hint of something that was uniquely, intoxicatingly Sabo.

His heartbeat was a steady thump, thump, thump beneath your ear, the rhythm of it a soothing lullaby that seemed to speak directly to your soul. You felt your own heartbeat slow to match his, the frantic pace of the day melting away into the warmth of his embrace.

For all the times he had shielded you, you were more than happy to return the favor. You had seen the way he looked at you during battles, the split second glances that said more than a thousand words ever could.

The fierce protectiveness in his eyes was something you had come to crave, to cherish, even when it scared you. Because it meant that, in this brutal world, you weren't alone.

You leaned into him, your nose buried in the crook of his neck, inhaling deeply. The scent of him was a potent cocktail of sweat, smoke, and something else—something that was unmistakably, irrevocably, him.

It was a scent that had haunted your dreams, invaded your thoughts during the loneliest nights of the revolution.

Sabo's hand tightened around your waist, pulling you closer still. His breathing grew deeper, his chest rising and falling against your side.

You felt his eyes on you, heavy with meaning, and you knew he was fighting the same battle you were—the urge to ignore the war outside and lose yourself in each other.

You turned to face him, your eyes searching his for any hint of regret or doubt. But what you saw was unbridled passion, a yearning that matched your own. It was a heady feeling, intoxicating and overwhelming.

You reached up, tracing the line of his jaw with your fingertips, feeling the stubble rasp against your skin. He leaned into your touch, his eyes fluttering closed.

"I don't know if this is the right time," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the thundering of your heart. "The revolution, the war, it's all so… intense."

Sabo's eyes searched yours, his hand sliding up to cup your cheek. "Life is intense," he murmured, his thumb brushing tenderly against your skin. "But moments like these, moments of connection, of love, they're what make it all worth fighting for."

You felt your resolve slipping, the dam you had built around your heart crumbling piece by piece. You had yearned for this, for his touch, for the validation of his feelings, for so long.

He leaned in, his breath warm against your skin, and brushed his lips against yours. It was a gentle kiss, tentative at first, as if he were afraid you might vanish if he pushed too hard.

But you were real, solid, and you were not going anywhere. . . .

[twilightkitkat]

Can we take a second to consider how Deadpool's regeneration works?? Like what the limits are? And what that means in the context of their weaknesses and scenarios for fanfiction?

Deadpool's regeneration is near infinite. He's come back from being exploded before by a single blood cell. As long as he isn't completely atomized, he can come back.

If you explain his healing as an extremely enhanced metabolism (similar to Peter Parker's healing) then this would mean all cell processes and chemical reactions in his body happen at a significantly faster pace than the average person. This would apply to digestion, healing, energy expenditure, but also death and aging.

The human body has a finite limit of cells that it will produce in its lifetime, so if it was simply enhanced metabolism he couldn't regenerate infinitely. Even "enhanced" healing would have its limits and a greater metabolism wouldn't account for regrowing limbs or parts of the body entirely.

This would imply that his ability is more than just "enhanced healing" but instead the ability to completely reconstruct his body. This insinuates that mutants would need different DNA that maps out the parts of the body and the instructions to generate it in their genetic code. This is similar to the regrowth of a lizard's tail or how the liver of a human body can regenerate.

However, healing capabilities aside, where does the matter and energy for this come from? Matter doesn't spontaneously come into existence; it can neither be created nor destroyed. He would need a source of energy and matter to rebuild his body.

Let's start with energy. Most humans utilize chemical energy from food to carry out bodily functions. However, Deadpool can regenerate from a single blood cell without eating anything. This implies that his body is either insanely energy efficient and has a different blueprint or that mutants draw their energy from another source. Can mutants tap into matter and antimatter as a source of energy where the human body hits its limit?

More than energy, let's consider the issue of matter. To regenerate, Deadpool would need to rebuild the organic matter of his body. If it were just an issue of reattaching limbs and reforging bonds between severed body parts or torn skin, it would be feasible. However, it's been shown that even when Deadpool's limbs or blood or corpse are beyond salvageable, he regrows them from scratch. An example of this was in Deadpool 1 where he cut off his hand and left it with Colossus, but it still regenerated on its own without it disappearing.

This implies that the lost matter from energies such as detached limbs, blood, and gore isn't reused in the regeneration process unless intentionally reattached. If he's capable of regenerating from scratch, he needs a way to get carbon, hydrogen, oxygen, nitrogen, and phosphorus, which are the key elements that compose the human body. He also needs a way to condense these into macromolecules and organic compounds.

Hydrogen, nitrogen, carbon, and oxygen exist in large quantities in the atmosphere. Could he potentially be absorbing elements and reintegrating them into his body? Would this imply that his skin needs to be more porous to absorb elements through the air into his body?

For him to reintegrate these elements, is his body somehow catalyzing the synthesis of macromolecules? This was studied in the Miller-Urey experiment, which simulated the early conditions of Earth's atmosphere and the available basic compounds to see if it was possible for elements to spontaneously synthesize together to create the macromolecules needed for human life. It was found that under pressure, heat, and electricity, it was in fact potentially possible for the building blocks of human life to originate this way. Are mutant bodies capable of perfectly replicating the conditions and forces needed to cause this to happen consistently and at near-instantaneous speeds?

If this were possible, would this mean that there are conspiracy theories that "mutant" forces could be responsible for life on Earth in the Marvel universe? (If matter and anti-matter play a role in mutant abilities, could they have contributed to the existence of mutants to begin with? To life on Earth?)

Aside from these elements, phosphorus would be needed to recreate DNA and the nuclei of cells. Phosphorus doesn't have an atmospheric phase in its geologic cycle—it's only found in rocks and compounds, not the air. Wade couldn't absorb it from the ground because he doesn't always regenerate in areas where phosphorus is present. Does this imply that phosphorus is present in the air in Marvel and that in their dimension, it does cycle atmospherically for regenerative mutants to exist?

Considering that regeneration is possible given all of the elements are present, how was Wade able to regenerate his rapidly suffocating cells when he was trapped in the airtight tank by Francis? If he was able to replace the oxygen in his cells, does this apply that he had access to matter that "wasn't there"? Does this tie into anti-matter being an active force in Marvel that exists within mutants? Does energy conservation work differently, wherein antimatter potentially eats up organic matter in another part of the Earth to preserve the balance while it supplies necessary elements to mutants? Or is it another force?

Wade's regenerative capabilities can largely be attributed to his cancer. It gives him the added effect of rapid cell repopulation, while his healing staves away the deadly effects until it's neutralized.

For Wade's entire body to regenerate from a single blood cell, this would imply that his entire body is composed of stem cells that are capable of differentiating into all of the different types of cells. And that mutants have an insanely high number of stem cells compared to the average person. This could be incredibly useful in stem cell transplant surgery to help recover from issues with bone marrow, blood cells, cancers, blood disorders, and autoimmune diseases.

Do mutant stem cells play a large part in the medical field with their rapid regeneration and near-infinite cell differentiation? Are there mutants held captive and experimented on just to obtain their stem cells? Could Wade be a target of this?

Speaking of farming, could Wade theoretically infinitely sell his organs on the black market for money? Considering he can regrow organs entirely without the preexisting one intact. Would they go for extra money because of enhanced durability and "better" mutant cells?

Most regeneration couldn't be entirely infinite, though. Eventually, if the regeneration was rapid enough, cells would reach the Hayflict limit. The Hayflick limit is the number of times a normal human cell can divide before it stops dividing. At the end of human chromosomes, there are telomeres which protect the integrity of DNA during cell division. As cells continue to divide, the telomeres keep shortening until eventually they run out and the DNA itself gets damaged if further replication occurs. The cells reach a state of senescence, wherein the cell stops dividing but functions normally until it dies permanently. This makes infinite replication from the same set of cells impossible.

However, Wade is the exception. His cancer cells would keep dividing because telomerase, an enzyme, keeps lengthening the telomere to allow for rapid and infinite regeneration. Therefore, the cell would never reach the Hayflick Limit and Wade's entire body could be regenerated even from a single cell.

This would imply that his healing factor wouldn't be nearly as strong and would, in fact, have more imposing limits without his cancer. His mutation encompassed a faster healing ability, but it originally would be finite if his cells were overloaded and regenerated enough to reach the Hayflick limit.

Additionally, this implies that Wade stopped aging not because of his healing factor, but because of his cancer. Aging occurs due to chromosome shortening, wherein the telomeres of cells slowly get shorter until the cells are no longer capable of safe replication. Eventually, the speed of cells dying outpaces the speed of reproduction as the majority of cells reach senescence.

Wade's cancer stopped him from aging. It took his healing from strong to nearly invincible. The same thing that causes him pain every day is the very reason he's as strong as he is.

This also implies that if he ever did find a way to cure his cancer while keeping his ability intact, he would sacrifice his immortality. He would begin aging, even if slowly, and he would lose the ability to come back from mere scraps. His healing would be more on par with Logan (who I'll make a separate analysis of later), wherein he would still age and take damage but with rapidly accelerated healing and cell reconstruction capabilities.

Wade's healing is stronger than Logan's. Wade can recover if there is even a piece of him left, while Logan's healing has greater limits. While Wolverine has more enhanced physical capabilities, Wade wins in the regeneration department.

This implies that if the two were tortured repeatedly in a similar manner, Logan's regeneration might slow down and eventually stop if he was bombarded constantly without sustenance, while Wade's would hold on for much longer (potentially forever). Wade would be the sole survivor if they got trapped or tortured, and would have to watch Logan slowly die as his healing fails and his cells hit their limit .

This is a painful reminder that Logan will age and eventually die. With his ability, Wade will not. The very cancer that led to him losing the life he wanted and becoming the monster he sees himself as is the reason Logan will leave him behind in the end when he dies. It's a curse he'll never escape from, no matter how far he runs.

Wade can heal from almost anything physically, but could he ever really heal from outliving Logan? From losing him?

[oh-no-its-bird]

Body swap through time Kakashi and Tobirama at like, ages 12/13ish

Kakashi wakes up as Senju Tobirama at the height of the Uchiha/Senju conflicts

Tobirama wakes up as Kakashi in the lead up to the Kyuubi incident

They're actually alarmingly similar in skill level and personality, so they're able to get away with the switch on a surface level, even to those who know them well. But problems very quickly arise when it comes to fighting or anything that requires knowledge of history

""Tobirama"" taking to the field with a totally different skill set and jutsus than he's ever used before (Izuna is taken so off guard, it gets bad, fast)

""Kakashi"" suddenly does not seem to respond to any ANBU signals or codes, and where as before he was a shoe in for becoming an ANBU captain he suddenly seems to be fucking up at every other opportunity. You'd think the guy WANTS to lose his job with how suddenly awful at it he is, but he's Kakashi. There is no world where that kid fucks anything up on purpose

They're both definatley in a "holy shit I can NOT tell anyone ab this" position— Kakashi would probably be fr killed as an imposter, and while Tobirama would probably be ok (especially since Minato would be in charge of his detainment n stuff) he doesn't know that?? As far as he's aware, he is in enemy territory and will act accordingly.

Kakashi doesn't know how tf to interact with Tajima or Hashirama, but especially Tajima. He probably uses the wrong forms of address for people bc Tobirama uses more old fashioned honorifics than Kakashi is used to (Anija/Chichuie vs Nii-san/Otou-san)

Kakashi refusing to kill Uchiha bc like, village loyalty fuck you. Also just in general he probably has feelings ab killing anyone with a sharingan on multiple levels. But not just not killing them but going out of his way to help— these aren't his Uchiha, yeah, but it definatley fucks him up to see ANY uchiha die when all his life Uchiha = konoha = his people

Oooo, Kakashi instinctivley channeling chakra through Tobirama's eye after a solid couple years of getting used to the sharingan, possibly accidentally doing,,, something there. Idk what tho but SOMETHING

Meanwhile Tobirama is in that stupid fucking village of his brothers (that he will not shut up about, especially at that specific age) and its???? Real??????? It worked?????????? Huh.

He's surrounded by Uchiha and can't find any Senju (Tsunade just left the village rip Tsunade) but if he investigates it looks like the Senju died out naturally? Impossible, it has to be some kind of Uchiha plot—!

Hes also struggling to come to terms with there being a STOLEN SHARINGAN IN HIS FUCKING EYE !!!!!!!! Made extra super fucked up by the difference in intense hatred and taboo of bloodline theft in modern/warring era (with it being even more taboo in the warring states, like THE ultimate evil to any shinobi)

Maybe he, as Kakashi, is supposed to go to like special Uchiha class where they teach him ab the Uchiha n stuff bc of the eye, and Tobirama is sitting there eating all this shit UP (enemy intel!!!) But also, like, lowkey brainwashed kid brought up to do nothing but kill this one specific group of people, literally being forced to at least pretend to embrace their culture. He's in such a unique position to learn from and about them, and it'll probably end with him being some kind of sympathetic.

It helps that in modern Konoha, where the Uchiha may be considered overly traditional/religious, that's actually just Tobirama's normal. So there's also this added layer of "being around the Uchiha feels the closest to home / least strange than being around literally anyone else" which just pisses him off even more tbh

I'm tempted to say that somehow Rin is still alive just so I can have that one specific Rin and Kakashi queerplatonic codependent relationship from my other post, and then Rin being the one to finally notice that Kakashi isn't Kakashi anymore

Both Tobirama and Kakashi kind of piecing together the life stories of each other, immersed in eachothers histories and paths without ever directly interacting even once. Constant wonderings ab what the other boy was like / might do here, and if they're really so similar that no one has noticed the switch and all those implications (bc on one hand, that's good!! But on the other hand uhh— has anyone at home noticed...? Bc if not, fucking ow??? But also like, probably for the best tbh.)

[marstar13]

More things I have noticed being repeated in Stobotnik fanfics that I like, (This is Part 2, here is Part 1) :

- The badniks sees Stone as their second father, is either Ivo had changed their coding, or they just love him so much it changed on its own, and Stone just loves them as much cuz they are like cats actually, always flying around him and bumping his shoulder so he pets them, as they make happy noises, he also gave them names and they have their own personalities.

- Stone is so light on his feet, thanks for being a highly trained agent, he is so light on his feet he always sneaks on Ivo without him noticing he is there with lattes in hand, poor Ivo always gets close to a heart attack because of that, and threatens Stone to put a bell on him.

- Ivo not eating anything nor sleeping, that man thinks he is a robot, and it's left for Stone to remind him to eat and sleep, in many occasions Stone found Ivo passed out on the floor or on his workbench so it's up to him to pick him up bridal style to bed.

- Ivo always having Stone in mind by his side as they rule the world, he won't want to rule the world if his man not by his side, extra point if Stone thinks Ivo doesn't want him in the whole world domination plan, and Stone thinks once Ivo gets what he wants he will forget about him and throw him away (Ivo would never tho).

- Them being PAIN IN THE ASS for Walters, G.U.N, government, etc especially Ivo who has ZERO respect for anyone that isn't Stone, he lashes out in meetings, yells and insults the other people in there, and they can't do anything about it even if they are superior than him in rank.

- Truth serum fics/truth device to wear, these two idiots can not for the life of them talk to each other like normal people, they need to be forced chemically or technology by a machine to confesse to the other with their feelings.

- Stone is G.U.N's best agent, he is their top agent and is a legend to some agents for being the perfect weapon, he seems nice from the outside and that he likes people, but he in reality hates humanity just as much as Ivo, he is just better socially, and being nice get people to talk to you and it's kinda a tactic to earn trust.

- Ivo's ginormous, massive, absolutely GIGANTIC abandonment issues, if Stone is late for work (in this case he is kidnapped cuz he is NEVER late), Ivo would lose his mind and thinks Stone left him, and he is always paranoid Stone might leave at some point, that he had enough of the abuse or gets scared away if he finds out Ivo has feelings for him (that's why he is bad at feelings), but Stone would go to the end of the world with him.

- Ivo is SOOO possessive over Stone, he sees him as his and only his, he always reminds Stone he belongs to him, how he is one of his machines, and he hates when someone takes his machines or touche them, Stone can be also possessive of Ivo but not as much as Ivo is over him.

- If one of them gets kidnapped, there is no way you could predict what the other is welling to do to get him back, the length they would go for each other, Ivo would be mad cuz someone stole something of his, Stone would be mad cuz someone took HIS doctor, and fears he failed in his job, the kidnappers never stands a chance to make it out alive, these two cant be separated, do that, and it will be the last thing you'd do.

- In the case of post Sonic 3 and they have adopted Shadow, Stone is immediately Shadow's favorite, these two get along fast, it takes Shadow more time to warm up for Ivo, mostly cuz Ivo would end up being an asshole towards him so no wonder he would prefer Stone, but they eventually get Along.

- Stone is a 5 fucking stars cheif, that man knows his way around the kitchen and don't you ever dare to disturb him while he is cooking, Ivo is literally banned from the kitchen so it's all up for Stone to make the best food ever.

- Ivo is Stone's emergency contact, it always surprises Ivo to why, but doesn't question it any further cuz Stone would be in the hospital or injured at the moment.

- Stone is very fit, he is way more physically stronger than Ivo, he is the brawns while Ivo is the brains (Stone can be both but let's not hurt Ivo's ego), Stone is muscular and his biceps always get a gasp out of Ivo, as he stars at them to memories every small detail about them.

- Some 🔞 stuff: They finish inside of one another, Nick kisses, It is the most heavenly experience for both of them that they get close to death as they arrive climax, Dirty talking, So hungry for one another's touch as if the other will disappear if they loss contact for more than 1 second.

BIIIGG shout out to @apoli-meow some of these were ones they pointed out for me, and they have made a Stobotnik fanfic Bingo, some of these are in there (go and check it out)