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notesfromtheidiotbox · 4 months

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I'm showing a picture of this post instead of reblogging because I don't want to distract from OP's point, but the various comments and reblogs all seem to have a common thread of "how did this happen? Why don't people seem to care?"

My personal theory is widespread compassion fatigue. It's finally ingrained itself fully into our collective psyche. And I'm not just talking about recent events either.

I'm 47 years old. I've lived through the end of the Cold War, two Gulf Wars, one major terrorist attack on US soil that upended literally EVERYTHING about everyday life in the US, the rising threat of climate change, a once in a century pandemic, multiple boom-and-bust economic cycles, the rise of the internet and with it the rise of accessibility of both information and MISinformation, multiple smaller conflicts around the world, the change in corporate attitudes from "we serve our customers our products faithfully and loyally" to "fuck you! That's our money in your wallet and we're not even going to pretend we thought of you as anything else anymore," the creeping resurgence of fascism as a political ideology in the US not seen since the 30s and early 40s,* rapidly rising inflation and wage stagnation without any sort of action to mitigate it for most of the population. and literally hundreds to thousands of people online yelling at each other for not "doing more," "doing better," or for not supporting/believing/doing the right things in the right way.

I honestly think the compassion/empathy tank is not just empty in the US, it's burned through the fumes and is now bone dry.

Being as generous as possible with the timeline, ever since 2001**, what we laughingly call the news in this country has served us a 24/7 diet of crisis after crisis, with no respite. It's ebbed and flowed, of course, but the general message has been "everything is getting worse, nobody is going to save us, we can't solve the existential threats of war, disease, famine, climate change, racism, and lethal prejudice that exists everywhere." And while collective action has garnered several significant victories, the attitude is still "this won't work because everybody has their own ideas of what needs to be done and how to do it and spend more time arguing over the details rather than doing anything***"

I think we don't care because we just CAN'T anymore. Even the things we would normally use to recharge ourselves aren't working. The food doesn't taste good, the entertainment is turning into forgettable sludge by the rapid rise of streaming, and it seems like you aren't allowed to be anywhere in public without spending money, and if you aren't required to spend money to be somewhere, odds are if you stay there for too long you'll have somebody giving you the side eye and demanding an explanation.

And online? Anger, dehumanization, and the constant cry of any sincere expression of joy or excitement is "cringe."

22 years of being constantly told the world is shit, humans are awful, you only have as much value as your bank account has digits, your employers don't respect you or the customers who get affected by their boneheaded decisions, leaving you to take the bullet, and constant reminders if problems which are too big to be solved in our lifetime.****

We're all tired, and we're beaten down, and we just don't have any more fucks to give about the latest crisis created by those in positions of power for what we are realizing are the most petty and stupid reasons.

There isn't a one size fits all solution here. But that's pretty much what I think has happened: the people of the United States in general have reached a point where we don't have the emotional capacity to deal with any more of this seemingly unsolvable shit. And I honestly think it's going to continue to get worse before it starts to get better.

Try to take care of each other out there, okay?

*For younger readers: oh yeah, during Hitler's rise to power until Pearl Harbor, there were PLENTY of people who thought Hitler was just swell.

** I'd actually argue the trauma cycle started with Vietnam, but it really accelerated with the 24 hour news cycle, the increase in internet speeds, and the events of 9/11.

***On a related note, be EXTREMELY leery of those online who won't accept anything but full-scale revolution as a remedy. Most of the time, these people have no plan for what comes after or seem to think that when society collapses, they'll be on top of the pile, ready to be the boot.

****The kinds of changes that would be needed to wipe out war, prejudice, and many other systemic problems are probably going to take decades, if not centuries. And because of the always on demand nature of society right now, a lot of people seem to have a real problem wrapping their heads around that. Change for the worse happens immediately. Change for the better takes a LOT longer.

#compassion fatigue #state of the world #united states #cannot wait for the shitshow this post is going to start

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silverslipstream · 10 months

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Get to know my OC!

So I've been tagged in by @rickie-the-storyteller (thanks Rickie!) and the idea of writing an interview of my character really stuck with me, so... here goes nothing! I chose to interview Kat (White Sky's main character) roughly at the beginning of the second act of the plot, as it's currently outlined, anyway. The hubbub of Aristarchus City's main Interplanetary Arrival Terminal is a stark reminder of humanity's burgeoning presence in the cosmos. While not the largest city on the Moon, Aristarchus is nevertheless a bustling hub of commerce, trade and diplomacy, its domes contrasting the nearby crater walls in a defiant stand against the desolation of the lunar surface. Our interview subject for today - former propulsion engineer and now interplanetary wanted fugitive Katarina 'Kat' Lloyd - halts under a rotating softscreen, peering anxiously at the busy thoroughfare. Sneaking between an absentminded luggage porter and a preoccupied miner decked head-to-toe in Toyota-branded mining gear, she hurries over to my table: an unassuming booth built into the wall of a drink stand. Her eyes flicker feverishly between me and the recording drone in the centre of the table. -audio transcript starts-

Kat: Are you sure that thing's... safe? ELTO's got eyes everywhere, you know-

Me: Relax. If ELTO knew you were here, they'd have thrown you out of the nearest service airlock, protocol or no protocol. Drink?

I push a disposable mug of coffee in her direction: Kat takes a hesitant sip and makes a face, pushing it back into the centre of the table.

Kat: God, how do you drink that crap? It's lukewarm. Nobody drinks lukewarm coffee.

Me: I'll admit, it takes some getting used to. Speaking of getting used to things, how are you finding your first trip into space?

She laughs hollowly.

Oh yeah, it's absolutely f**king wonderful. I've been floating around in the spacefaring equivalent of a college dorm room for three days, I'm covered in bruises from hitting just about everything in there, half the crew won't talk to me and the other half won't shut up. Plus, there's the whole 'wanted fugitive apparently harbouring corporate secrets' s**t, so yeah. Everything's f**king peachy.

What's been the hardest part of adapting to space travel?

The cosmic rays. I can feel my DNA splintering by the minute.

She grins at me, tutting and rolling her eyes when I don't respond.

Fine, okay. You're not... printing this anywhere, are you?

Is that an actual question?

Right, sorry, okay. The worst part of spaceflight is going to the bathroom. Sounds weird, but... I wasn't expecting taking a crap to be such a f**king ordeal, you know? First I have to wedge my feet into these footholds before sitting down, so I don't, uh, 'float off' mid-s**t. Then the toilet has this weird inflating cushion thing that suctions itself around... well, y'know, so nothing gets out and the smell doesn't kill the crew. It's constantly sucking, too. Worst feeling ever. I swear, I won't eat a bite on the return journey. The shower's even worse, if you can call it that. You have to squeeze these gel packs of water and soap onto yourself and rub your body down super carefully, using rinseless shampoo to clean your hair. Stupid lemon-scented crap. It just clumps the ends of your hair together. I swear, I'm gonna find the best hairdresser in this s**thole dome and get it all lopped off.

How's the food?

I mean, it's not terrible. Not healthy by any stretch, but I'll live. The water's awful though.

How come?

Well, you probably wouldn't know, Mr-I-Live-On-The-Moon, but unlike your happy little domes where most of your water is sourced from crater meltwater and Earth imports, our ship's water is a closed system. Every piss, every rinse of dishwater, every excess drop scrubbed off of skin ends up recycled in the life-support system. The others ignore it, of course. They've been in space much longer than I have. But every water-based drink has this slight tang to it, and every time I swallow, I can't stop thinking about how much of what I'm drinking is someone else's sweat and pee...

For the record, I live on Earth - Luna's just a side gig. Tell me about home - where were you before all this?

Ooh, sure you won't charge me? F**k journalism, pal, you should go into counselling. How benevolent of you to unravel my deepest emotional scars at the source-

Just answer the question, please...

Oh, who's a touchy little shrink today, hmmm? Okay. Well, for your information, I lived in employee accommodations at Langersprung Developments' Munich science park. I could've gone to Vienna or Berlin, but Vienna's a little intense for my liking and I didn't fancy glowing in the dark after a couple months in Berlin, so Munich it was.

And how'd you get here?

I took the space canoe. Next question.

...what was your dream job?

You know, what an interesting question. I could've sworn I really liked doing something - was it propulsion systems design? No, perish the thought. How silly of me. It's not as if I was minding my f**king business, enjoying the culmination of my life's work, when a bunch of ELTO agents blow the door off my dorm room and almost melt my campus to the ground. That would be preposterous, don't you agree?

Right, sorry.

It's okay. Well, it's not, but I have to let it out somehow, right?

Do you have any hobbies?

Well, aside from the aforementioned corporate espionage, sneaking aboard lunar debris haulers and murdering annoying cloak-and-dagger affronts to the name of journalism, I do dabble in a bit of Scrabble.

Seriously?

Yes, seriously. Keeps the brain occupied, and the limitations of only having seven letters forces me to think with limited resources. Only problem is, I can't play with many people - Yuri gets way too intense, Harry spends his time writing out more swear words than I thought existed and Kaz protests against Scrabble on principle. Some s**t about 'artificially limiting creative expression.' Other than that, I keep up my previous work, designing interplanetary propulsion systems. God forbid becoming a wanted criminal keep me from my work, right?

What do you do to relax? Other than play Scrabble, I mean.

As you can imagine, fleeing the combined law-enforcement systems of an entire species isn't the most chill of circumstances... but yeah, okay, I do find some time to relax. Most of the time I listen to music: Leroy Guilloux, Marbzy, V5, Schiaparelli Dust, that kind of stuff. Harry spends a lot of time blasting out TwenCen music from the 'Eighties' that he can't help but sing up and down the ship in terrible, impromptu karaoke sessions. Sora sent me a few of her old tracks, and they're much more my speed. Kraftwerk, Boards of Canada, Aphex Twin - don't s'pose you've heard of 'em?

Not really. My grandad was apparently a fan of Aphex Twin; I found a few albums in a box of his stuff. Actual optical discs, too. No idea how he played them.

Yeah, well, a lot of our crew are obsessed with old s**t like that. They had two 'movie nights' on the way over here. The first was some Huang Min Lee techno-thriller from a few years back: Yuri and Jack loved it. I was barely keeping my eyes open. The other one was this old TwenCen film that Harry wouldn't stop raving about. Judging by the groans from the rest of the crew, they must've seen it a few times. I thought it was quite good for an old film. Can you believe people back then had whole cars that they could just... drive around, wherever they wanted? And what would be the point of keeping a bunch of kids in school on Saturday? They didn't even do schoolwork. I liked the blond kid, though - Brian. Reminded me of myself at school age.

Hmm, okay. What're your plans for the future?

She laughs.

You mean, after ELTO let me out of jail or my brain finishes a century's sentence in some orbital processor farm?

You know what I mean.

Pfft, yeah, sure. Well, I'd like to think I could head back to Earth and continue working, y'know. Obviously not for Langersprung, but maybe for another Eurocorp? I've always liked Scandinavia... if not, maybe I'll look further afield. Australia are doing pretty well with their helix-fusion reactor complexes. If I can avoid the war fallout from the Indo-Pacific, I suppose I wouldn't mind heading down there. Though, knowing my luck, the PECFOR would probably draft Australia in, and I'd end up having to design fusion thermobarics to level a Malaysian city or something. No thank you - spacecraft only.

For someone who's spent a lifetime designing spacecraft engines, you sure seem to hate spaceflight. Are you sure you wouldn't want to, y'know, stay in space?

Well, a plumber might enjoy directing piping drones, but it doesn't mean he wants to live in a s**t-smeared sewer, does it? No f**king thank you! Spaceflight is miserable, uncomfortable and full of annoying s**theads who can't play Scrabble properly. I wouldn't mind going on an interstellar voyage, though. Being cryo-frozen and having a four-year wait time for conversations sounds right up my alley.

What about your family life? Friends? What do you miss about Earth?

Kat gives the recording drone another suspicious side-eye.

Wait, does this thing have visual or holo-recording on, or is it audio only?

Audio only, I'm afraid. My line of work requires a hefty degree of anonymity.

Okay then. For the benefit of you prospective future listeners, I am now raising my... oh dear, what's this? It appears to be my middle finger, good heavens. Now I'm raising it at Mr. Shrinky McAnonymous here.

Miss Lloyd-

Now I'm wiggling it.

...terminating interview with subject Katarina Lloyd at 09:18 CST, June 2nd, 2094.

Look at it wigg- -audio transcript ends-

Hope you've enjoyed this little peek into Kat's life and the world of White Sky! I'll tag @sam-glade, @sergeantnarwhalwrites, @kaatiba, @winterandwords and @flock-from-the-void, as well as any open tag to any writeblr who fancies a go!

#writeblr #writing prompt #character interview #original character #science fiction #worldbuilding #get to know my oc #oc posting #writeblr community #silverslipstream #wip: white sky

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xx-vergil-xx · 2 years

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okay so I'm finally reading Hounds and I have to yell at you here, too because

DESIRE

you write them SO GOOD, you write them SO FRIGHTENING, the enormity and deepness and awful ceaselessness of human want! humans want CONSTANTLY! they want sex and they want love and they want violence! this is why I think that Dream and Desire are SO similar because dreams and desires cover the entire breadth of human emotion, the good and the bad! except Dream responded by repressing so hard he turned into a black hole and Desire responded by going fucking insane!!!

(also, on a more serious note -- how far into Hounds did you get when plot hit you? and was it something like that you just kinda realized you were writing it and it was going somewhere, or did you have a concrete idea that came to you? always interested in other writing processes, because i tend to start writing something for the ~aesthetic~ and then I'll have a plot that'll smack me in the head and I have to go back and redo stuff lol)

hello hello!!! first off, as a devoted patron of ur absurdly good work it’s an honor and a delight hello comrade in arms <3 <3 <3

thank u so much!!! writing desire was just so unbelievably fun bc it’s characters like that that are so fuckin maxed out knobs-turned-to-11 insane where for myself, as primarily a poet with a fondness for Strange and Off-Putting Language, i can just go crazy go stupid ya know? i fully agree with your desire and dream similarity thesis i really think that they hate each other because they are so similar that it drives them both up the wall — dream reviles desires indulgence and desire thinks dream has a major stick up his ass but deep down they’re two sides of the same lunatic coin, they’re batshit when it comes to any and all emotions (and dream’s repression continually bites him in the ass because his emotions get so compressed he inevitably spills over and lashes out — my favorite example being nada getting cast into hell like he’s so overcome with embarrassment and almost shame at rejection and also grief at what he’s done to her that it makes him act like a Major Fucking Asshole because he loses control anyway sidebar sidebar). i love desire and if i can work their voice back into the fic at a later point god knows i will because it was a joy to write them (on par with the corinthian who has been my FAVORITE voice so far ugh my blonde bastard beloved <3)

i too started with a Vibe Only — it was about half a chapter in my notes that was hob in a nightclub in berlin seeing someone who looked like dream (i think that became ch 3) and a chunk abt dream where i was trying to conceptualize how imprisonment in a body would work for a very non-corporeal being who can’t die, mostly as an experiment in body horror — hounds emerged from these little scraps and the plot has come along in organic fits and starts. not sure where ur at in ur read (holy shit i never imagined it would be as long as it is now) but little arcs sorta developed for me one after the other — the rescue trope first bc i am a sucker, then corinthian arc, and now this current one, and it’s sort of a ridiculous stroke of luck that they’ve all escalated on each other enough to form a coherent and rising plot that actually is leading up to the moment i’ve been beating my head against the wall abt for the last two days (thanks to @aberfaeth for her infinite wisdom and feedback and also giving me a god tier concept that i’m stealing to use). that’s often my typical process, i tend to go very organic, but i’ve never done it with something this long and i’m shocked it’s still functioning. hopefully this gift from the muses and the spirit of hob gadling continues onward as i desperately attempt to figure out how this is gonna resolve!

thank you a thousand times over for reading! <3

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payphoneangel · 1 year

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HEHEHE 4 & 5 for Sam, 9 & 10 for Dean, and 14, 15, & 18 for Cas >:3c

Send me a character + a number and I’ll tell you my headcanons for them

DOHOHOHOH OKAY HELL YEAH

Sam (given the nature of these two i'm gonna b a little horny abt it lol) 4) Best places to kiss on their body: uhhhh first and foremost his cute lil pointy nose!! give that bad boy a hearty ~chu~ But if the kisser wants to really feel how they're affecting him I would say go along the jawline. He carries a lot of tension in his jaw and it would be fun to feel how that tension lessens/intensifies by being smooched. (Spicy version) I think starting at the hip and kissing down the V of his abdomen would be fun for all parties involved. 5) Guilty pleasures: Now this one is very fun bc has his whole obsession with purity and being 'clean' so there's a lot of things he doesn't allow himself to do. I def think one of his guilty pleasures is that he likes Chick fil a. He knows they're a super shitty homophobic corporation and he KNOWS he shouldn't support them AND a lot of the food on the menu is 'unhealthy' and something he can't eat bc of [insert w/e diet he's on this week] but he loves it. OH, how he loves it. It's his comfort food. He likes their special sauce and even when he tries to make it himself it never quite tastes right so he will occasionally buy food from there and then feel awful about it for like 3 days afterward. (Spicy version (warning for mentions of SA)) Ok so I think Sam has a lot of weird hangups about sex. Particularly, he feels weird about subbing. I do think he enjoys it, but where the guilt comes in is that he doesn't feel like he should enjoy it because of the ways in which his bodily autonomy has been jeopardized. It feels very strange to him to derive pleasure from a situation that resembles a context in which the circumstances were very dire for him. I think it's scary for him to give up that sense of control, but even scarier that he actually enjoys it. Since Sam has been known to diminish and trivialize his own trauma, I think subbing might make him slip into a spiral about if he 'actually was assaulted' bc if he enjoys it here how bad were the times when he was forced to submit to someone? I think he has a lot of trouble acknowledging himself as a victim, and I think enjoying subbing would make him think himself a """bad victim""" if he doesn't actively work to get out of that mindset. Because of that, I don't think he subs often, and only with someone he really really trusts, but I think he does really enjoy it and can even derive some catharsis from it.

Dean 9) Humiliating memories: ooooooooh ok now this one is a little tough bc Dean is constantly tormented by The Shame so it's hard to pick out a specific instance where he was definitely humiliated buuuuuut in my personal headcanon one of the most impactful times is his first solo hunt. More specifically, the situation leading up to Dean's first hunt. I mention it here, but essentially, John catches on to Dean having feelings for another boy, which scares the hell out of Dean. After disappearing for a few days (leaving Dean alone and sick to his stomach with anxiety for John's total lack of a reaction) he comes back to the motel, picks Dean up, and tells him to go do a salt and burn of two dead gay nuns. He does, but also internalizes the message John is sending: this is what happens to people like you. John picks him up afterward and never directly says what he's referring to, but tells Dean, "you need to be careful and not be selfish. Your stupid decisions could get you or even Sammy hurt." That, of course, makes Dean feel so astoundingly horrible, he can barely respond. It's why I am in the camp of 'Dean is painfully aware of his attraction to men, but rarely acts on it/never vocalizes it.' bc ^this memory, coupled with the homophobia of the 90's/00's makes Dean very wary of how he carries himself and the kind of """negative attention""" he wants to could attract, and how that could endanger himself/other people around him. 10) Fears/phobias: ok this could couple nicely with the thing i just talked about above but instead I'm going to go in an entirely different direction: DEAN IS (or should be) SCARED OF DOGS. It's honestly pretty wild to me that this really isn't touched on in canon. One of his most significant/narratively impactful deaths is when he was mauled by Hellhounds, and consequently dragged to Hell for 40 years. Canon like, farts in this direction sorta in s6 but it's really not talked about. Homeboy got sliced and diced by dogs!!! He should have some residual stuff about that!! Also I think it would be a point of contention between himself and Sam, Known Dog Lover. It's also why i'm team 'fuck that dog' from the finale. Although, it could be cathartic for him to have an esa/therapy animal be a dog, to rebuild trust.

Castiel 14) Ingrained habits/forces of habit: this one is SO fun for him bc there's so many possibilities with him being an angel. I think this manifests a lot as physical ticks/quirks from being an angel in a human vessel. I think a 'force of habit' of his is literally breathing. He really only needs to breathe in order to talk, but I think in early seasons he catches himself doing it all the time, as a leftover instinct from his human vessel. Later, he catches himself mirroring Dean's, Sam's and other people's breathing as he starts growing closer to humanity, before eventually just adopting breathing all the time. I think it also takes him a long time when he's human to get used to moving at a human speed. If he realizes he needs to go somewhere, his first thought is to fly, and he often has this moment of "why am I not there yet?" before realizing he needs to physically move his human body 🙄🙄🙄 I also think it would be really fun if, especially after first obtaining a vessel, he often speaks quietly because he is used to overwhelming humans with his True Voice. 15) What it takes to make them cry: 🤔🤔🤔 I think Cas is like, a medium-frequency crier (order of most to least likely to cry imo is Dean, Cas, Sam). I think he IS a happy crier and that's what most often causes him to cry; being overwhelmed by positive emotions (i.e. love for his family). I don't think he's normally an angry crier but I do think that when Jack died he should have 1) gone completely silent and stone faced 2) leveled like an entire forest in grief-induced rage and 3) broken down in full on heaving sobs in the middle of all the destruction. 18)Things they’ll never admit: OUGH THIS ONE IS SO JUICY FOR HIM. SO SO JUICY. This one stumped me a bit at first because Cas is a very honest person who normally speaks his mind. He's also pretty self aware. BUT the thing that Cas will never admit is that he kind of revels in being The Universe's Greatest Fool. Like, he's the Angel that Fell in Every Way Imaginable!! He betrayed all his kin and fucked up The Father's Great Narrative, all because he fell in love with a stupid human!! A Bug, Even!!! A BUG WHO DOESN'T LOVE HIM BACK (he does, but, well, see above). And he does it, over and over and over again. He always chooses humanity; he always chooses Dean. The thing is, there's a part of him that feels really comfortable in that idea of ceaseless devotion without acknowledgement; without reciprocity. Of course, it's familiar, but on top of that, I think there's a part of him that still houses guilt for going against his programming. We know he was lobotomized countless times; certainly there's residual feelings about straying from his designed path? And I think it's easier, in a way, to wallow in this self-pity, then to actually attempt to vocalize his wants and ask for what he needs. So, essentially, he fell and he feels like he needs to be punished, and the best possible punishment is for his one true desire to be something he can never obtain, because he doesn't deserve to have what he wants. Anything else feels foreign.

#vinny answers #that was fun #shit got heavy but like. this is a drama tv show so #also to anybody reading this please lmk if you want me to tag certain triggers

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softgrungeprophet · 2 years

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the question is NOT “has this story been done before?” the question IS “regardless of its originality, is it good?”

obviously constantly rehashing old plots is obnoxious and constantly saying “we know this character has made efforts to become a better person but i want them to be a bad guy instead :)” is fucking stupid (ben, harry, flash to a different extent). but like, it’s less obnoxious if it’s actually well-done, and i don’t think immediately deciding something will be bad just because it’s not 100% original is necessarily useful.

at the same time it’s not like the past 5-10 years of main title spidey comics have been “good” or provided much of interest or any confidence in marvel’s ability to publish something good with peter in it. not with all the restrictions and marketing shit and trying to make him hip young and empty.

so all this stuff... will it be well-done? impossible to answer until it happens. i mean. i can make a guess and say “probably not” but it would be nice to be proven wrong.

i’m hoping for “gwen comes back for revenge” but somehow i doubt that will happen, especially with the way her character is portrayed after-the-fact as this pure angelic being, viewed through a vaseline camera lens. it’ll probably be something with not a whole lot of agency or personality, and judging by that promo pic, probably another clone if they really are just recycling story lines. but! it would be nice to be proven wrong and to get something interesting. zeb wells please give me something with personality.

speaking of gwen though, sad i don’t have any source of income cause it means i can’t buy any of the gwen solo comic stuff, and i assume the supersized thing coming out will be an extension of that and therefore probably pretty solid, but ah well... i have like $70 in my bank account and two specific crowdfunding things i need to save it for. so no gwen except via piracy

also i’m absolutely 100% against any corporate spider-man stuff. i saw someone mention that and fuck that. the only people who want spidey to be corporate are losers. parker industries was a mistake. spider-man worldwide was cringe and not in a fun way. peter is a fucking schoolteacher. he’s a part of a community, even when he’s being a bitch. that’s the whole point. i see a corporate spider-man i floor it. even horizon is a stretch. i like the black and green suit, but it def feels like a bit of a “i’m tired of writing about this poverty garbage, give him a fancy tech sector job” situation lol

sidenote i feel like the JRJr promo images i’ve been seeing have been... not great... the peter and gwen one is like okay, but the norman one just looked awful with the cornrows.... at least his interiors seem fine though lmao but i keep seeing covers or promo images and going “huh?????? why’s this so ugly?” LOL

#nadia reads comics #idk what's going on though so who knows

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gale-gentlepenguin · 2 years

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Gale Reviews: ML Season 4 episode 19 Qiliin

Spoilers below

-Sabine is into feng shui

-Sabine seems very in touch with balance. That is interesting.

- (the animation does not look good)

-Sabine's routine is a bit odd.

-Chocolate turbine! Corruption of the chocolate factory

-Marinette apparently grew again.

-OH NOW IT MAKES SENSE, ALL OF THAT STUFF HELPED PREPARE FOR MARINETTE XD

-(Sabine seems to have it all figured out) That is a really cool thing.

-Sabine seems super organized.

-MARINETTE IS LATE FOR MOTHER'S DAY

-That lollipop sentimonster has constantly been popping up (rip)

-Sabine apparently teaches an art class, neat.

-Lila is in that art class?!

-Sabine was expecting to meet her daughter.

-Sabine seems to always know exactly plan something out.

-SABINE HAS LADYBUG VISION! (So thats where marinette gets it from) Confirm that Sabine would have been an amazing Ladybug

-OWN THAT CORPORATE SCUMBAG!

-Marinette is a terrible liar.

-Marinette honey... you did not think this through.

-So this meter maid guy is gonna be a dick

-And he is.

-Roger is an idiot. Like HE KNOWS SABINE.

-Sabine is right these people are nonsense.

-I dont know parisian law but I think its BS

-Sabine just won the most justified akumatization award.

-Sabine trying to fight it. A victim of misunderstanding.

-Qilin still looks great.

-WHY DIDNT THE BUS DRIVER DO ANYTHING?

-Qilin's power is Feng shui? Its actually pretty cool

-Sabine's logic is pretty sound

-THE COPS HAVE TANKS

-The UMBRELLA! Chat noir coming in clutch

-Chat noir got yeeted

-Chat noir being a distraction was great. (in both instances)

-Also the cops saying "We were just following orders" Well authoritarianism is awful.

-Also ML just said f*** the Police.

- THEY GOT A RAY GUN!

-The cops are really stupid.

-Chat noir has a part in the plan.

-THE LASER WORKS!

-Roger is really stupid.

-THEY IN A STAND OFF.

- SABINE BROKE THROUGH THE AKUMATIZATION! LIKE A BOSS!

-But seriously the cops were so dumb.

-ROGER YOU ARE AN IDIOT.

-THEY STILL HAD TO PAY THE FINE?

___________________________________________________________

I gotta say this was a very eh.

I did like that we got a lot of development for Sabine, but man the conflict and resolution was dumb. Sabine still ended up paying the fee! wtf.

The fight was cool and Sabine was awesome

5.5 out of 10.

#ml #ml spoilers #Qilin #miraculous ladybug #gale reviews

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pineapple-coco · 3 years

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Heartslabyul

Two hot headed red heads in one place

Anyways I can see Ace getting along ok as even if Chuuya is hotheaded at times he can be reasonable and understood that some rules are way to crazy to follow

Deuce would feel awed with Chuuya being there and might ask him to teach him some martial arts as he is the strongest in the mafia

Ace will tease him about his height constantly but all it takes is Chuuya holding him down with his ability to make him stop

Riddles unique magic reminds him too much of Dazai and his ability but they are polar opposites with personality

Anyways was collared by Riddle but since Chuuya doesn’t have magic his ability still works fine

Carter I can see him have mixed feelings on him and Chuuya doesn’t really trust him as he feels like Carter may be hiding something

Trey cooks good food and has unique magic like illusion abilities would see him getting along with Trey

Once Riddle overblots he would help him with relating an overblot to his corporation form

Would other wise be feared by some students as Dazai once ticked him off and that was when he started to throw hands

Savanaclaw

Fight, fight! Give him a fuckin challenge

Is among the undefeated champions

Leona is not happy and Chuuya doesn’t like how lazy he is

He has to work for everything and this stupid big cat gets anything he wants just by fling his family name around

But hey a lazy kitty cat won’t do anything about it, has gotten into many fights with the dorm leader

Ruggie he knows how it feels to be in the slums but hey he seems to have a bright future in his grabs

Hopes the same thing that happened to him doesn’t happen to Ruggie

Jack and him but heads as Chuuya is in the mafia and Jack is a wolf with a strong sense of justice

On the other side of the coin has a good laugh as Dazai growls/hisses at Jack pls say you got that too

Other then buting heads with Jack, teasing Leona and being ok with Ruggie he doesn’t really mind them all that much

Octavinelle

Motherfucker tried to put me in his contact fuck, NO!

Hahaha Azul you need to know that Chuuya is apart of the Prot Mafia they are feared

So stop trying to get him to sign a contract

Even with all his powers I can see Chuuya laughing to him self as is seems like they are running a little mafia business

Jade doesn’t scare him... to be honest the Leech brothers are useless on him

Fyodor Floyd stop calling him a shrimp he has already punched you

It is not worth it!

Jade seems to be like Dazai with putting in a mask to hide his true intentions

Jade is now Dazai.2

Floyd and Chuuya can’t be in the same room together by them self or with someone that is scared of both of them because Chuuya might try to kill him

Kinda avoids them as yes they seem ok but Floyd is going to die

Azul had put in the rule that Floyd can’t serve Chuuya anymore after the hat rack almost killed him

Scaradia

Umm it’s hot in that dorm

Jamil wouldn’t let him around kalim at all

It’s just that he doesn’t trust any mafia member definitely on as high as Chuuya

Chuu chuu has a weak spot for children ok

Hated Kalim at first as he seems overly naive and innocent to the world

Only after ob Jamil did they start to bond

Realizing that the two of them have way more experience with people trying to kill them

Pomefiore

Rook stop following Chuuya, I understand he is interesting but you don’t want to be punched

Rook praise him like he very much dose with Vil

He once tried taking a photo... that didn’t work out well

Epel is band from talking to Chuuya as Vil sees him as a bad example

Not like any of them listens to Vil

They talk and Epel let’s his true self be free around Chuuya

Vil and Chuuya butt heads a lot as they don’t agree with each other

The two of them don’t go out of their way to insult each other as they both do hold some neutral respect

Helps Epel train to become stronger and one day defeat Vil in a fight

Ignihyde

I don’t know a lot about Ignihyde

I see Chuuya not really interacting with the Shroud siblings

He would hold interest with the Magic Wheel as it seems identical to his motorcycle

Ortho would be very interested in his ability causing him to download all information on gravity

Diasomnia

The dorm reminds Chuuya of the streets at night

Malleus is very curious of the child of man and his world

Mal mal asks many questions about Chuuya’s world and some about his ability

Lilia would also be included in these conversations

The old fea would find it funny how anger the red head gets when someone points out his height

And don’t forget the fights with Dazai

Well until he found out that Dazai betrayed the mafia as I see Lilia as a very loyal man

Sebek like any human looked down on Chuuya at first until he proved himself in a sparing match

After that Sebek would train with the mafia man along with Silver

Silver is pretty neutral on Chuuya and so is he

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littlewetbeast · 3 years

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you know... sometimes i think i've got jackles figured out, i think i've nailed down why he's so inconsistent about destiel, why he acts so weird about it sometimes and other times not. then some information is flung at me and it's back to square one. why is that man so insane. he just genuinely confuses me.

aw man. this shit is like catnip to my overactive, over-analytical brain.

okay. listen. i’m not gonna lie: the more i try to understand the goings-on behind spn with any degree of nuance, the more my head threatens to melt. HOWEVER. while i joke about jensen ackles being an enigma, i don’t... actually think he is.

[disclaimer: the following points include speculation. i don’t know these people and will never claim to. this is just my take on it. never bring this up to the actors in question.]

the quick and dirty: i believe jensen is likely queer himself. i believe that he strongly identifies with dean, that he feeds off of the environment around him, and that how he feels he can act around destiel and dean’s sexuality depends on 1) his support network, 2) the immediate social environment, and 3) his work environment, all of which have evolved throughout the years BUT can also vary day to day. increased confidence and securer social environment has helped him decrease the need to perform and lessens the likelihood of acting out from insecurity, but doesn’t completely eliminate it. point is: the environment matters. the more insecure you are, the more it will affect your behaviour.

that’s it. not trying to excuse any shitty behaviour, just saying that’s what it is.

the NOT so quick and dirty: so - my point is, as a queer guy in this industry, he has obviously learned to put up a front to protect himself. (even misha does this to some extent!) it’s douchey, and it’s stupid, but i understand it. think of the drastic difference of how he behaves around misha vs j*red, or even in a large group setting. i’m not saying he’s not friends with j*red, but i DO immediately see the difference of ‘front switched on’ and ‘front switched off’.

firstly - just because jensen has matured a lot over the past 15 years and is far more relaxed about himself today than he was back then, doesn’t mean he can’t still have moments of uncertainty that can occasionally push him back to his old, bad habits. basically, for someone who has grown up in a toxic heteronormative environment (being taught by his dad that drinking through straws was gay) - and in an industry that is very unfriendly to queerness and queer narratives until VERY recently (and even now is still pretty toxic) - utilizing his stupid douchey dudebro front during moments of anxiety has probably been his go-to coping method for the majority of his life.

secondly - we all know he’s insanely close to dean as a character. dean is a part of him. he slips in and out of character effortlessly. he cares about dean and dean’s happiness. but dean was never intended to be a queer character. jensen has played queer characters before, but that’s the difference - he is ‘playing’ a queer character. he wasn’t supposed to be ‘playing’ dean as a queer character. readings of dean as queer makes, well. readings of him as queer. that’s it. for someone who puts up such a front, i can imagine he’d be shitting himself at people picking this up from him when he’s NOT in a supportive environment for it. (yes the ‘jackles acting choices’ are a Thing, but they most likely happened within more supportive environments and during times of confidence - and, let’s face it, i think sometimes jacting choices just naturally bleed in because he’s a good actor who makes good intuitive acting choices. that was likely the primary reason for it, especially early on.)

basically - queer readings of dean are taken as queer readings of him. therefore, his reaction to destiel has also varied depending on the environment and his work circumstances. think of there being like... a constantly shifting scale of how supportive his social environment and work environment are of queer readings of the character he plays. the further back we go, the less supportive all of these factors are; the closer to the present, the more supportive these factors are.

“but rosa! why hasn’t he just shrugged and said it’s up to audience interpretation what dean’s sexuality is, like he has recently?”

because of *points to all of the above*.

let’s illustrate what i mean.

exhibit A) it’s fairly early days of “destiel”, maybe season 6 or so. an audience member brings up dean’s reaction to dr sexy and asks why he can react like this yet destiel is not possible. jensen says dismissively because “destiel doesn’t exist” and that dean is simply a fan of the show, to an audience that cheers.

(work environment (spn): not supportive. immediate environment (audience): not supportive. social environment (j*red): less supportive*.) *I am not claiming j*red is homophobic; however, jensen HAS felt the need to perform around him aside from the last 1-2 years.

exhibit B) it’s 2019. jensen gets straddled by misha on stage and gets a [redacted] which j*red notices and covertly jokes about in front of a large audience. he visibly becomes upset and is in a vulnerable state. misha points out a ‘destiel is real’ t-shirt (the very fact that misha did this suggests he’s far more used to a jensen who is relaxed and supportive). jensen gets defensive and asks ‘where is destiel real?’

(work environment (spn): uncertain. immediate environment (audience): uncertain. social environment (j*red and misha): mixed*.) *do i think jensen would have reacted 10x better if j*red had not been there? yes. yes, i do. do i think he would he have reacted better if he hadn’t had a [redacted] that j*red made fun of? yes. yes, i do.

exhibit C) it’s 2019. jensen and j*red are in front of an audience which, given today’s times, are likely more used to queer narratives. it’s highly possible the queer storyline for cas has been confirmed at this point. jensen is calm and in control, and is not feeling the need to act up his front. someone brings up ‘samstiel’ and j*red gags. jensen, unprompted, shows support for destiel.

(work environment (spn): given the timing, likely supportive. immediate environment (audience): likely supportive. social environment: (at home) supportive, j*red: supportive or mixed.)

we know that he has progressively felt less of a need to use his ‘front’ and has become more relaxed over the years, which i believe is likely hugely due to the positive influences of danneel and misha (and maybe others). i don’t think that has been the case for ONLY the last two years. i think jensen during exhibit B was miles away from jensen in exhibit A. jensen is not miles away between exhibit B and exhibit C. those two are differences of environments where he feels confident, in control, and is supported by the narrative he’s meant to play (C), vs an environment he felt less supported and less in control of (B). i won’t get into it in depth here, but it’s worth noting that the past ten years have also seen huge changes in fandom culture, how actors and fandom interact, and how the film industry and corporations at large handle queer narrative and fans. that certainly affects this dynamic.

and that’s it, really. jensen is a sensitive person who feeds heavily off the people and environments he’s in. he’s matured a lot over the years and i truly don’t think it’s a stretch to say that, in environments that would have supported it, he likely has been very positive about queer narratives in spn. source: his stark difference around misha, his willingness to flirt and joke about dean and cas with him, his occasional calmer and balanced reactions to destiel in more private settings.

aaand that’s how i see it, really. even if you don’t subscribe to truthing - or even jensen being queer - all of these things apply just as strongly to men who feel the need to perform. what can i say, toxic masculinity and homophobia sucks a lot and i’m glad society is shifting slowly in the right direction, and that jensen feels safer and more secure than he once did. shame the cw is unwilling to get with the times. EDIT: for some additional, vital context, i refer you to these two additional posts, which cover his upbringing, how speculations about his sexuality has hounded him his whole career, and his first intro to shipping on supernatural being j2/wincest, which included some real ugly shit.

#ask #rosa answers #analysis #jensen ackles #destiel #deancas #jenmish #cockles #gunshots #i am terminally incapable of giving short answers!!! sorry!!!!#YES i can and WILL indulge in speculations around dumb celebrities within the safety and comfort of my tumblr nest

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furiosity-wills-the-cat · 3 years

Text

Chara, the fourth Blook cousin:

A crack theory that accidentally become way more serious than it should have because it somehow, despite my best efforts, ended up making sense

Brought to you by my idiot conspiracy brain (affectionate) and by encouragement from my Tumblr followers

Under the cut for the sake of your dashes and sanity

Ok here we go my very elaborate accidental theory, because in order to answer the complex questions simply you must first make simple things more complex or something

First, you need to know that Chara became a Blook cousin by adoption.

All of the Blooks are adopted.

Ghosts are not born into families, they make their own.

Got it? Great, because we’re about to start running

so first, im gonna make surprisingly uncommon claim in this fandom, and I am going to say that undertale ghosts are all dead

I’m taking the tiny details we know about ghosts and sprinting with them to new places

Ghosts also do not have souls I decided

Undertale souls do not work the same as souls in traditional mythology

So every ghost is soulless Unless and Until they become corporeal

Evidence: Monster souls cant exist without bodies, and ghosts are monsters, therefore ghosts cannot have souls without bodies

Further evidence: Asriel doesnt steal blooky’s soul, blooky is unkillable, we have no concrete evidence that blooky has a soul

What about mettaton? He only has a soul after he has completely committed to being corporeal and to a specific body.

Also maddy and mettaton are both only killable while corporeal

Im also connecting the dots we have about souls in a new creative way so let me live for a second

Additionally, i am going to claim that there are a lot more ghosts than just the blooks, some evidence given below

Theres like actual scientific knowlege of ghosts in the undertale verse which seems unlikely if theres literally only three or four

The underground is so much bigger than you think, theres that giant forest in snowdin, a large town in the ruins, the huge city of new home, who knows how much space in the large open areas of waterfall etc. Its really really big okay

Also based off evidence of blooky, we can conclude that ghosts can turn invisible whenever they want to and/or haunt objects to hide

So I personally think that ghosts are, generally speaking, extremely reclusive

And the blooks are just a special exception, a beautiful family, amazing for them

So anyway im going with typical ghost lore for now, for the sake of ease, so im gonna say ghosts generally come from monsters who are particularly restless or unsatisfied when they die

HOWEVER i dont think they remember being monsters or anything before being a ghost. They just kinda fizzle into existance with a fully formed personality and immortality while being unkillable and feeling vaguely uneasy

ALSO i personally think that chara was a ghost for a long time before they became a blook by adoption

Based on game lore, i think ghosts can possess any inanimate object and just kinda wear it? But it takes a lot of strong emotion to become corporeal

And chara is the super weird exception because they were a human not a monster.

They dont have a soul (i headcanon that their soul got destroyed when asriel died)

And they KNOW this, which is a huge part of why they kinda just... give up

Because they lost their ability to fulfill prophecy

Also, without a soul, they lost their ability to reset, so for the first time since falling underground, theyre subject to the relentless march of time

But theyre still weirdly strong and powerful and more emotional

ALSO they DO still remember being a human but they catch on pretty quickly that other ghosts dont have memories and because chara is stupid they just lie to fit in

Theyre too tired to explain themself, they just want to be alone and feel awful

Now back to ghost lore

Emotions are a lot harder for ghosts??? I decided

And they dont know why,, they tend to blame it on the soul thing

But realistically its actually more of the immortality thing making actions not have consequences and/or or not having a body so they cant have a sense of touch or have physical effects of emotion

They all know that ghosts just tend to be way more floaty and bored and numb

And thats part of why the blooks are so special

Maddy’s rage and Mettaton’s yearning and Napstablook’s misery are like... not great all of the time...

but theyre also way way more emotion than most ghosts have,,, they are just a family supporting each other, being as functional as they can,, just an emo(tional) ghost family

most ghosts barely do anything except like stare at walls but the blooks have their snail farm and that helps them have purpose and it is good

And they hold each other accountable and it is nice

So anyway chara just chills and is in a depression coma for a few decades before the blooks find them and are like “our child/baby cousin”

and they raise them for a cool minute

They are all very protective of the new baby emo blook

And chara doesnt get therapy but at the very least they once again have a family, and they decide they want to try to become corporeal eventually just like mtt and maddy

So anyway chara starts hanging out in the ruins a lot more and they finally tell the blooks theyre leaving to go become corporeal in the ruins

This is actually because they are trying to hang out with toriel

because they miss their mom ;;

but chara’s not gonna admit that to anyone, especially not to themself

And because theyre still repressing their emotions constantly and pretending to be fine, they cant become corporeal

And they hang out in the ruins for a long time because they feel guilty lying to everyone about everything

They still feel like its their fault that all the monsters are stuck underground, because they were SUPPOSED to save everyone and they COULDNT and it HURTS

But again, they are doing too much repression to use this guilt to become corporeal,

so instead they just kinda hide and watch toriel from a distance and cry

Blooky visits them the most, thats why blooky is chilling in the ruins so much at the start of the game

Theyre just there to visit their shy baby cousin ;;

Ofc they wont tell frisk about this because chara wants space and privacy and blooky respects that

but maddy and mtt also visit them a lot

Oh also when mtt and maddy start dissapearing, blookys mental health plummets as their family and support system starts to dissolve

Blooky was actually doing extremely well (for a ghost) for a long time, i headcanon,

but theyre doing the worst theyve been in a long long time during the game, because of family issues

So anyway, chara dissapears when frisk shows up, and maddy assumes this is becaude frisk hurt their fragile feelings

Maddy spends hours desperately searching the ruins for chara and cant find them and assumes that they had their heart crushed and went to hide and disappear in a depression coma for another few decades, and thats part of why maddy is so furious with frisk

Like,, to be clear, maddy is still jumping to conclusions and throwing blame around with no proof, but also, its a logical conclusion to come to

And mettaton has already disappeared too and been gone for a while, too, by this point, so it hurts even worse

But anyway, what actually happened to chara is that;

Because chara is a human ghost, not a monster ghost, normal ghost rules dont apply to them

And they can possess living things too they find out

Maybe they knew it a long time ago, maybe its a new discovery, but for whatever reason they end up possessing frisk and theyre like “what the heck”

And frisk still has most of the control

But now chara is like,,, “this is my chance, im a human again, gotta save the world for real,,,”

and they cant explain this to anyone without revealing their past

so they just chill in frisk’s mind while being super crypic and trying to figure out how it works

Pacifist route, this is pretty much exactly what happens

They manage to help frisk save the day

And in my headcanon, the no mercy route is started by frisk who is scared when faced by monsters attacking them

And then chara, who was aready hiding in a semidepression coma for a while, immediately transitions to a panicked “gotta protect this body, gotta protect my chance to be human, i died and threw away my chance to save everyone the first time, i CANNOT lose this chance again”

And so the combination of both frisk and chara is the genocide run

Because frisk kills in self defense, and whenever frisk hesitates, chara jumps in

Also theres leftover feelings from the whole asriel incident

Because again, ghosts come from monsters who died unsatisfied

And chara’s main source of unsatisfaction is how they were trying to get asriel to kill people before he died and then he didnt

So thats a strong strong feeling ruling them

So anyway by the time they both realize how bad its become they figure its too late and also the amount of LOVE has made them numb

And thats when chara who, despite everything, still has idiot hero complex and thinks they need to save the world

So, while panicking, they step in at the very end, and erase the timeline and delete everything

And also to clarify

They DONT HAVE this power at any other point in the game

Because, guess why

They become corporeal

Just like maddy, the no mercy route is the only thing that gives them strong enough emotion to spontaneously become corporeal

So they become corporeal and as soon as they have a soul again and can reset again, they just erase everything

Ok back to fluff

Post pacifist route, they are still a non corporeal ghost

They can still float around and look just like the other blooks

And it takes them a while to open up about things, but they do end up moving back in with blooky so that blooky isnt completely alone

And also they do way better with a family

Also they can float through the mountain and talk to flowey down below and bring him news

And now that they know about him, they can bond with him and explain that they dont have a soul either but that doesnt mean theyre worthless

Oh ALSO

The other dead humans dont have ghosts

BECAUSE

ghosts only come from restless dead MONSTERS

and chara is the weird special exception

Because they were a monster when they died

They became a ghost and asriel didnt because they were way more restless and stressed than asriel was when both of them died

Like sure, asriel felt awful, but chara was the one who was way more like “this is my fault, i CANT die now, the world NEEDS me”

So anyway

charablook the emo tween ghost and asriel flowey the eldrich goat daisy are siblings once more and they hang out and eventually they are okay and have a family again

Thank you for reading, this has been my thoughts on a crack theory that accidentally went too far

This isnt even everything, maybe i’ll make a part two eventually, but i promised to have this post out like two days ago, so i wanted to post SOMTHING

Anyway leave your thoughts if youd like

Im not looking for people to disprove it, i already know its crazy, i dont think it was intentional by the game writers, but i do think its a fun concept

thats the fun of it, so if anyone wants to run with it im all for it lol

Thanks again! Have a nice day!

#no mercy #as a warning tag #chara undertale #napstablook undertale #fic tag #meta #analysis #crack theroy #undertale #i didnt edit this very much #so if there are any major typos or parts that didnt make sense #or were illegible #feel free to let me know so i can clarify

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l-auraaa · 2 years

Text

Borderline Toxic Chapter One

Hello there! This is an attempt to revive my Tumblr so that it coexists alongside my AO3 which is here: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mooney_01/pseuds/Mooney_01

This is a fic that I published last summer on my AO3 so I apologise if you’ve already read it! If not, I hope you enjoy it. I am currently doing my last year at university so I am super busy but I’m hoping that over my winter break I can get a few new chapters out. Anyway, that’s enough from me - to the sexy ginger Jedi man.

...

Episode One - Embers

Despite being engulfed by a stifling heat during daylight hours, Tatooine’s night brought with it a crisp wind which pinched at your nose and pricked your cheeks. You grumbled, pulling your robes tighter against your body as you watched the dying embers of the fire throb and ebb, dueling against the breeze for dominance. You knew the flames thrashes were futile but you could not deny the tug of hope in the back of your mind that it might, just for a small time more, survive against the tyrannous wind and bring some form of comfort for you in this night.

To your dismay, a small puff extinguished the glow and you echoed it with a sigh.

“Stupid, kriffing council,” you mumbled, bringing yourself to a squat. You passed a quick glance to the Jedi Knight and his padawan sleeping across from you. Anakin was sprawled rather… undignified upon the floor and you had to suppress the urge to chuckle. The fourteen year old had just hit a growth spurt, now far too dangerously close to being taller than you. Smiling, you warmed your palms with an exhale and rubbed them together as you recalled meeting him for the first time those many moons ago. The small and soft nine year with mischievous blue eyes had now been stretched out into the lanky and sharp teenager spread across the ground. Every now and then he would twitch, sputter something incoherent and shift his position on the floor, lopping his limbs this way and that with a gentle thump. In the oppressing darkness, it almost appeared that he had more than two arms and with his current position - backside arched up - he resembled a spine spider. A smile spread across your face, he certainly had the attitude of one anyway. Or a Loth-Wolf.

You let your gaze fall upon Obi-Wan. It still blew your mind that your old creche-mate was in charge of another living being, especially as you had grown up witnessing his reckless nature put him, and yourself occasionally, in situations that were interesting, or hearing tales such as those from Pijal where he drove a kriffing ship through a Czerka Corporation building. Shaking your head in admiration you took in his sharp features. It had been years since you had last seen him and since then his hair had grown out from that awful spikey trim he adorned as a padawan into longer locks which he was constantly sweeping aside. You remembered the journey to Tatooine, joking that if you did a shot of whiskey every time he ran his hands through the golden silk strands that you would end up obliterated. He just shot you that Obi-Wan Kenobi shit-eating-grin that for some reason made your stomach lurch. Golden stubble had begun to spread across his cheeks, hiding his youthful features and making him appear more like a man. Warmth pooled through you as you took him in, making the chill in your bones subside for a moment. He had grown far more handsome since your last encounter on Naboo five years ago, more than you could have imagined.

Like his young padawan, the Knight was sleeping on the floor. It became evident to you that the last five years of being Anakin’s master had made Obi-Wan age, with laughter lines imprinting themselves on the edge of his eyes, though now they were softened in his slumber. Regret tugged at your heart that you hadn’t been around enough to witness all of the events that etched the crevices in his face, but duty must come first to a Jedi. His top lip was shadowed by the beginning of a mustache, but it was parted from the bottom as he breathed softly. With his head propped up on what you knew was a firm bicep and knees bent so he was curled inwards, the man almost looked vulnerable. You knew that wasn’t the case - you were eying up the first Jedi to kill a sith in years and subsequently he was anointed a Knight without having to face the Trials. You rolled your eyes at that, typical Kenobi, having to go and do the impossible.

Giving up on trying to find the floor comfortable you rose to your feet. Jedis were expected to be used to disagreeable surroundings due to the whole ‘no belongings’ teaching, but you had developed a habit of purchasing throws and pillows for your bed back at the Temple and on the hangar of your ship and on your quarters back at Naboo… so this meant the dusty, cracked and cold ground of Tatooine would not cut it. Rummaging through your backpack, you hummed in content as your fingers curled around your treasure and you clutched the bottle against your chest, plopping back down onto the ground. Although the drink looked dull in the darkness, you knew that the liquid amber that swirled within the glass was one of the most beautiful liquors you had ever witnessed. Popping the cork you took a brief swig, feeling the spirit tumble down your throat and leave in its wake flames that extinguished the cold that had seeped throughout your body.

Gods that was needed.

Licking your lips to ensure every drop of the rather expensive fire-water reached its desired destination, you raised the neck to your lips again about to take another gulp - when Obi-Wan whined.

Your head snapped towards him.

His brows were furrowed, casting branch-like shadows across his face. His breaths became harsher, more jaggedly and interrupted with soft pleas that you couldn’t quite make out. Obi-wan’s fingers curled, crumpling the earth beneath them as they plugged into the ground and a shout ripped its way out of his throat.

“Master!”

Images of Qui-Gon Jinn shot through your mind at supersonic speed. His comforting voice, his deep, earthy chuckle, harsh chidings delivered to you and Obi-Wan, countless cups of tea, odd objects and holograms scattered around his room and his open deviance towards the Council. Then the shattering memories of the broken ex-padawan now Master slashed through your thoughts. Obi-Wan on his knees, clutching a dead Qui-Gon as sobs rocked through his body. Obi-wan refusing to allow anyone to touch his Master, struggling under the deceased man’s higher stature as he dragged him away. Him, in your quarters that night, still sand and tear-streaked not saying a word as you cried, feebly clutching his hand in yours, entangling your fingers. You gently nudging his robes off, striping him down and leading him to the refresher with no other intentions than making him clean himself. You knew he didn’t care about his own state and that meant you had to. Your best-friend’s world had just caved in - screw whatever the code said about forming attachments, Qui-Gon had eventually become Obi-Wan’s father. You cried as you scrubbed the boy, no man because that was the day his boyhood was robbed from him, butchered and impaled upon a red lightsaber. The heartache you felt then as you watched him box up his emotions pathetically, like sellotaping shattered glass back together, when he accepted the burden of training Anakin before he was ready thundered through your body again now at his outcry.

The bottle fell from your hand and met the floor with a thud as you doubled over, a stabbing wave of mental anguish earning a gasp. Trembling, you crawled unsteadily to Obi-Wan, hands burrowing themselves into his robes as Qui-Gon’s name tumbled from his lips and tears stained his cheeks.

“Obi,” Gods your voice was so weak, barely above a whisper as you shook the man gently, “Obi-Wan please!”

He mumbled and began to jerk under your grip, eyes shunting back and forwards behind clenched lids. Tears rolled from your cheeks rapidly, exploded upon his chin, forehead, lips as you looked down upon him, watching as his memory or nightmare - or both erupted across his face. His thoughts were projecting into your own, you knew that's why the pain was so visceral and brutal and you needed him to wake up… no wanted him to wake up because no one deserved to feel this shattered.

Gathering more of his robes this time you shook harder and added more force behind your voice as you reached out to sooth the Knight’s signature. It was dark and pulsing like an infested wound and you felt yourself initially flinch repulsively but pushed past the disgust and fear, attempting to sooth him. Cerulean blue punctuated the darkness of the night as his dirt stained hands grabbed your forearms when Obi-Wan woke with a start. You inhaled deeply, allowing the cool air to fill your lungs as you gazed into the man’s eyes, pushing reassuring waves across the force. A cry bubbled out of his throat and you felt your heart shatter.

Looks like tonight you would need to sellotape up broken glass.

Gently you pulled him up into a tight embrace, hands snaking their way into his soft hair as he burrowed his head into your neck. You stole a glance at Anakin, aware that yours and his master’s current interaction could be misconstrued but the boy was still asleep. Thank the Maker. His hair was thicker than it looked, you realized as you ran your fingers through it, whispering words of comfort as he whimpered into your skin crying scorching tears.

Some time passed before he managed, “I am so sorry my dear”, his voice was nothing more than a hoarse croak, “It’s hard being here… this is my first time here since Qui-Gon’s dea-”

“Shhh Obi, I know”, you pulled back, allowing your eyes to meet as your hands moved from his hair to cup his face, thumbs circling his cheeks as you offered him a weak smile, “Is there anything I can do for you my friend?”

He returned your smile with one of his own, though not as shit-eating as usual, replying with a shadow of his normal cockiness, “No my old friend”, he cupped your hands with his and held them in his lap, giving them a gentle squeeze, “I am worried though that my dashing good looks have been compromised by crying”.

Rolling your eyes, you smacked him playfully, “Yes well you did look like a Hutt,” you retorted, sticking your tongue out at him.

Obi-wan chuckled before acting hurt, “You wound me Y/N, I would have taken a Kowakian monkey-lizard or Rancor but an actual Hutt! What did I ever do to you!”

You both laughed and fell into a comfortable silence, sat across from one another. You stole another glance at Anakin and Obi-Wan followed your gaze.

“He could sleep through an earthquake.”

You smirked, pushing yourself to your feet as you retrieved your bottle, “Like Quinlan then?” you hummed.

“In more ways than one. I… I am not sure if that is a good thing or not,” Obi-Wan brought a hand to his chin, stroking it once… twice, before he asked with a raised eyebrow, “What is this my dear?”

You settled back down beside him, popping the cork before replying, “Glad to see you haven’t changed Kenobi, still an alcoholic it seems.”

This earned you a playful nudge of an elbow as the older man snorted. “Please, with you gone I only had Quinlan left and well,” he waved his hand in the air nonchalantly, “you must remember his predilection for fire-water.”

Casting your mind back, it didn’t take you long before copious memories of the notorious Quinlan Vos and his intoxicated adventures brought a grin to your face. You hummed in agreement and took a swig from the bottle, almost moaning as the warmth spread throughout you.

“Well? What is it?”

“Oh,” you laughed, “Sorry, trapped in my thoughts. This, my friend, is something very expensive and borderline toxic.”

Obi-Wan arched his eyebrow again and with an out-stretched hand took the bottle and a deep gulp. You watched as his eyes shot open, he had not anticipated just how warm the spirit would be as it burned its way through his body, expelling any chill he had previously experienced. His tongue darted out, brushing any droplets that may have gotten caught in his moustache and you felt a different warmth throb within you, deep down. You growled softly, re-obtaining the bottle and drinking deeply.

Curse you Kenobi.

You passed the bottle to the Knight again, watching his Adam's apple bounce as he took another sip, “Obi…” you began, moving ever so slightly closer so that you were pressed shoulder to shoulder. He looked down at you, bottle held to his lips, sparkling blue eyes sheltered by long eyelashes. Maybe it was the alcohol, but you felt your cheeks blush under his gaze, feeling examined by this beautiful specimen of a man.

Clearing your throat, you tried again, “Obi you know you can talk to me right? I know I haven’t been there a lot, like on Coruscant and I am - I’m so, so sorry but -”

“Y/N-”

You shook your head, fumbling with your fingers as he lowered the bottle, “No shut up, let me talk. I just, I am sorry I wasn’t there after Master Jinn’s… death. If I could have I would -”

“- I know -”

“But, like obviously, and obviously it would anyway, but it still haunts you and I want you to know you can talk to me. I’ll be at the temple more now that the Naboo situation has relaxed, you can genuinely chew my ear off because I’d rather that than have you experience this again. I - yeah, I just want you to know that.”

Saying nothing and discarding the bottle, Obi-Wan draped a cloaked arm around your shoulders and pulled you close to him. You leaned your head on his shoulder, feeling his firm and hard figure holding you up as you settled against him. This was the relationship you had shared ever since your youth. You could communicate emotions through touch, and this was him telling you that he accepted your apology (although he thought it unnecessary because you had done nothing wrong) and that he knew, as he always had, that you would have his back until the end. The Jedi Knight gave you a slight squeeze which made your heart stutter.

This reaction was new, but that was a thought for another day. Right now you wanted to enjoy nothing more than the comfort of your life-long friend under the clear night sky. The whiskey had started to work its magic, and combined with the soft warmth provided by the firm body behind and beside you, you felt securely protected against the cold as you nuzzled your head against Obi-Wan’s shoulder. The heavy tug of fatigue danced upon your eyelids, making them droop. Inhaling your friend's scent, spicy-mint mixed with old books, you reached for his other hand as you gave it one last reassuring squeeze before allowing slumber to claim you.

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6ad6ro · 3 years

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there's a lot of posts about piracy going around rn. so here's mine:

anti-piracy arguments are almost always classist. you shouldn't need to be rich to be happy. we were all born into capitalism. it's not voluntary. many of us don't have parents or other support networks keeping us afloat. poor people still deserve to have nice things. i could care less about keeping a system running smoothly that keeps most people poor and only few people rich.

if you work a shitty, low-paying job, then a simple monthly streaming service fee is YES actually too much to ask. no i don't care if your fav big company loses "potential" money from people who couldn't afford to buy them to begin with.

if there wasn't such a thing as "poverty"? if people could generally AFFORD to go out and easily get the things they want and need? obviously piracy wouldn’t be much of an issue at all. it's always frustrating to hear anti-piracy arguments from people who ignore how CRAZY expensive cost of living has become. again, usually the biggest anti-piracy peeps are either naive rich kids (who have things paid for), rich ppl who STAY rich by keeping things broken like they are, and the poor people they’ve brainwashed into being submissive hosts to their parasitic behavior.

in a world like this, where people are overworked and tired? with very few tangible goals available in their future? people NEED entertainment to stay sane. it's literally a mental health issue. yes, in a way, you NEED that funny show to inspire yourself to keep going. that game you can't afford otherwise? will help you relax after a hard day. don't let some disney mouthpiece tell you shouldn't download lion king if it'd help calm you down, especially when the people running that company could probably afford to have a private zoo in their backyard.

there's ALSO the big issue of control. as companies move further and further into streaming and cloud technologies? ownership has become a huge issue. greedy companies are finding more and more ways to nickel and dime people over long periods of time rather than get a one-time fee. it makes them more money, they don't have to actually GIVE customers anything (copies of data are free to them). and customers are left with nothing to show for it after-the-fact. this means that even though entertainment is being produced way more than the past? i’d argue people have LESS access to the entertainment they want for how much they’re paying. because it’s all temporary.

drm and limited use is becoming a norm. meaning? it's harder and harder for people to "own" their favorite things even if they COULD afford it. your favorite movie might simply cease to exist in 20 years. your favorite game might become nothing but a fragmented memory.

"piracy" solves this. backups. ownership. it takes control away from companies who abused that power. and puts it back in your hands. when nintendo stopped making their back catalogue available? and went around shutting down all the emulation sites? i was thankfully in the clear. because i download and archived many of my favorite things. in many cases i own cartridges of my favorite games already? but those can break, or in my case, get caught in a flood. but due to piracy, i can still play "mario 64" to pull myself away from suicidal thoughts. and i'm not limited by nintendo randomly deciding to remove it from the switch store and take the cartridges off of store shelves? in order to drive up their yearly profit via copycatting the methods used for the "disney vault" scam (look it up).

i am someone who tends to enjoy things from other countries. but it can be INCREDIBLY restrictive to try to go through "official" channels attempting to pay for them. if i want that old, relatively unpopular 80s japanese prog rock album? i'm just stuck. i HAVE to hope someone is sharing it online. but this often applies to new things as well. "licensing" is generally INCREDIBLY stupid, especially when it comes to other regions. do you REALLY want simple licensing issues to stand between you and your potential new favorite anime? and in many cases, the distributors just don't care enough to make the thing available globally. and no, i don't think this should mean we all just "miss out".

one of the biggest issues we are experiencing online at the moment? is one of censorship. governmental censorship, religious censorship, and maybe worst of all? corporate censorship. i'm not talking about "bring back racist imagery" etc (but that DOES play a part). i'm more talking... rewriting history. edits. removal. for example, it shouldn't be left to some corporation to decide whether or not a sex scene in a movie is deemed "too racy" for today's audience. if somebody creates an amazing album, but then commits some awful unrelated act later, that shouldn't mean that album should be made unavailable. in many cases, old media can even TEACH us what NOT to do. we gain nothing by erasing history. and corporations are never doing it to be moral. they're only following required guidelines in order to maximize profit. “fake showings of morality” to keep up appearances and keep all potential buyers buying. piracy can give you the OPTION of access to unedited works, or things that have been removed from circulation.

piracy can negate corporate control and artificial-scarcity. create opportunities for absorbing other culture's art without having to deal with availability issues in your country. it circumvents corporate and governmental censorship. and helps you archive the art that makes your life worth living.

finally... the "but it's stealing and stealing is wrong" argument is invalidated by the fact that, by ANY moral compass? these companies are STEALING from US. constantly. by a LOT. look at the way any big company is run. the way it leeches off of it's customer base. the offshore tax havens... does THAT seem okay to YOU?! if someone went around stealing all the food and locking it up, would you REALLY consider "breaking in" to get some so that u didn't starve as "stealing"? don't pretend that you don't NEED escapism and entertainment to get by. you know that you do.

the only people that piracy COULD hurt? is small, independent artists. who, if you actually listen to them, would rather you send them money directly? or buy merch. etc. because companies usually take SUCH an awful cut that it’s better to find alternate ways of supporting them. if you use reasonable context with what you decide to download and share? it’s fine! like i might buy a depeche mode vinyl or two? or a shirt. or go to a concert. but i’ll pirate that $1000 rare box set. because i just can’t AFFORD that kind of excess. and my income doesn’t dictate how big of a fan i am of their music. as long as you chip in when you can to your favorite creators? it’s actually fine. if i didn’t pirate, i wouldn’t be into 95% of the artists i’m currently into. i’ve spent so much on media that it’s almost embarrassing... my argument might not be entirely black and white? but i can safely say that piracy’s positives GREATLY outweigh it’s negatives. most research done has shown time and time again that it doesn’t really hurt creators. if anything, it’s the way greedy companies REACT to the idea of file sharing that hurts those creators. it really is an argument of big corporations trying to make sure they keep ALL the money. and it has almost nothing to do with art or artist’s rights. so please keep sharing everything. download away. for the sake of your own sanity, and generations down the line. because corporations don’t care about you. they don’t care about artists. and they don’t care about maintaining easy access to the art. they just want money, regardless of the cost to everyone else’s happiness. and if you can afford to PAY for it regularly? you should consider yourself very lucky. so maybe stop shitting all over poor people who unfairly have less access to what you already have. everybody deserves to be happy.

#long

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drama-llamas-salt · 3 years

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holy shit @disparatepeace you hit the fucking nail on the head

The unnecessary level of shock value destroyed that entire show. I didn’t even think about it overall, I was so caught up in all the little things going wrong with it. Man alive, whoever decided to write Case 4 the way they did, they did Great Pretender dirty.

That ending was so rushed, crammed full of “plot twists” and “shocks” and stupid call backs, and then shot itself in the foot so bad it ruined the entire series. It shit on its characters and it shit on its viewers.

I don’t know a lot about con artistry. I just love con artists that screw over big corporate jerks. Leverage is literally my comfort show, I rewatch it constantly because it’s just so damn good. What GP did? That was garbage. That was awful. No one actually gave a rat’s ass about Edamura or they wouldn’t have put him through hell like they did. Oz wanted to “protect his family”. Bullshit. If he wanted to protect Edamura, he wouldn’t have involved him in the stupid, pointless revenge scheme in the first place!

And Dorothy.

Fuck Dorothy, honestly. She was basically eye candy. What did she do? Why were we supposed to care about her? Because Laurent did? Why should we care about Laurent? He’s an asshole! And then she’s ALIVE!? Are you shitting my nuts dude!?

The whole thing is just!!! So infuriatingly dumb!!! Why!? Why did they do this!?

#is this how destiel fans felt? is this what supernatural fans experienced on a daily basis?#the great pretender #great pretender #tgp salt

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buckysbabygorl · 4 years

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Notice (Part 1)

Summary: Y/N makes a risky choice on the battlefield that ends up leaving her injured. Steve is furious that she would be so reckless and suspends her from missions. With all the fighting and Y/N’s self-loathing taking a toll, can they reconcile their differences?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader

Warnings: angst, swearing, mild gore, exhaustion

Word Count: 3.3k

Dedicated to: @babyblue-07

Part 2

She remembered fighting, she remembered winning. But she didn’t remember getting the gash on her side.

Sam and Nat held her upright, her hand clutching her waist as they struggled to step into the quinjet.

“You’re okay Y/N, we’ve got you. It’s gonna be okay.” Sam said quickly, eyes filling with concern. She grunted as the pain shot up to her chest. “Fuck, it hurts.”

Nat cringed, blood smearing on her side as she tried lifting Y/N over the bump at the doors. “Close the door Bucky, close the doors!”

As the jet started taking off, they stumbled, making Y/N scream out in pain. Steve was pacing the deck, hand covering his mouth at a loss for words.

“You disobeyed an order. You could’ve got yourself killed.” He snarled, clearly furious.

Y/N clenched her teeth as Nat started stripping her of her gear as gently but swiftly as possible.

“I did my job, everyone got out fine.”

“You didn’t get out fine.” He barked, “And your job was to get intel, what the hell were you thinking?”

“Language,” Sam muttered.

“Don’t start Wilson, you’re in just as much trouble as she is.”

Sam and Y/N had gone off course for a brief moment, their assignment had been to hack the communications center but if they had found the leading Corporal on the base, the Hydra branch would’ve been completely shut down.

Forget cutting off the heads, stab the monster in the heart.

A quick check, in and out, 5 minutes. They didn’t expect something like this to happen.

“Don't fucking take it out on him, Steve,” Y/N responded. “It was my idea, he didn’t do anything wrong.”

Y/N hissed as Nat touched the gaping wound. Y/N banged her head against the jet interior, “shit, shit.”

Steve shook his head, frustrated. Y/N’s reckless behavior had continued to grow with each passing mission. Going in with no gun, lack of protective gear, cutting out communication, and now this.

Steve was getting fed-up. He didn’t need his team sacrificing themselves for some greater good. He needed his team alive.

“I’m taking this up with Fury when we get back. I want you suspended from the next few missions.”

Y/N’s headshot up, immediately standing to confront Steve.

“Y/N!” Nat cried, pulling her back down.

“Are you kidding me Rogers? It was one mistake, I made a decision and it didn’t work. That doesn’t mean you get to-“

“I don’t get to what, Y/N? Make a decision that’s best for the team? I’m your Captain: your superior, and I’m not taking anymore of your bullshit. You disobeyed an order and got seriously injured. You’re out until you clean up your act. You can’t argue this.”

Silence held the room before Steve made his leave to the cockpit. Y/N shook her head, angry. She felt offended, what was she, a fucking weak link? She jumped up and walked after him.

“I’m not just going to sit around while you guys are out fighting. You know damn well I’m no good just stuck at the compound!” She screamed.

Steve halted in his tracks and turned to face Y/N. They stood nose to nose, heavily panting, both radiating with fury.

Steve leaned closer to her, his eyes sharp and his jaw set.

Not a beat missed, no remorse shown as he said; “You’re no good dead, either.”

The two hadn’t spoke in weeks. Both of them were stubborn and harsh, backing down wasn’t on either of their agendas.

“I did my damn job”, she’d say.

“She’s a liability”, he’d say.

Steve came out winning in the fight with Fury, giving her a 2 month suspension from the field.

She was pissed. Her job was to protect her country and her team. She took a chance that could’ve potentially halted a huge part of Hydra’s operation. Taking one risk wasn’t worth this punishment.

The following weeks were tense and awkward. When they weren’t giving each other the silent treatment, it was hot bursts of anger and loud fighting; which either left the team separating the two or watching one of them storm off.

It wouldn’t take more than just a small quip to get the Captain’s blood boiling:

“Shouldn’t you be training,” he’d ask.

She’d glare at him, “the hell do I need training for if I’m off the field?”

And again the battle would start. Reckless and stupid versus taking a risk and putting in a damn effort.

Even though the decision had been made an passed; they couldn’t bare not battling out their sides. Neither of them were winning in this fight of course. No one really was.

But she was training. Y/N would stay up long hours into the night, Steve’s words echoing in her head:

Clean up your act.

She’s a liability.

You’re no good dead, either.

The more she thought about it; the harder she’d hit, the faster she ran, aim and fire; to the point there was nothing left to shoot at.

She exhausted herself. Her knuckles were sore, her legs were weak, her eyes bloodshot... she was slowly coming undone.

That didn’t matter to her; she needed to be ready for when they let her out again. She needed to prove herself. She’d be quicker next time, stronger, accurate, she wouldn’t let them down. She’d show she wasn’t a dead girl walking.

Steve found himself unable to sleep. Their fights had been badgering his mind, constantly taking a toll into the nights.

If I had just been there, he thought. If she had just listened to me.

Steve was consumed with guilt, blaming himself not only for that day, but how far this had gone. He was their leader; where was the composure, the reserve?

The last mission... he should’ve been keeping an eye on them.

Steve shook his head. No. He had his job to do and they had theirs, Sam and Y/N had gone rogue. It was unacceptable behavior; and they were lucky they got out alive.

But if that were the case; why did this feel wrong?

He couldn’t deny it anymore; it was because it was Y/N.

Steve knew what he was getting into; she’d been a spitfire from the start. Steve was always very protective of his team, but even more so of her. He’d admired her strong will, she became unstoppable out on the field. They were the reasons why Steve had handpicked her name only from the long list of SHIELD recruits.

But her virtues and strengths were becoming her downfalls: constantly barking back at orders, always putting herself first in the line of danger...

Steve’s jaw clenched as he thought back to that day; the pain in her eyes, fresh blood spilling on Nat’s suit...

She wasn’t her one agent army, and she wasn’t supposed to carry the team on her shoulders. For some odd reason, Steve had felt that was his job.

Steve couldn’t stand it any longer. He tossed and turned for long enough; he needed to see her.

Steve shrugged off his covers and hauled himself out of bed. It was a short walk before he found himself at her bedroom door. He hesitated for a moment, before lightly knocking with his knuckles. He noticed the light under her door, she must be awake.

“Y/N,” he spoke gently, “It’s Steve.”

He waited a second. He heard no stirring behind her door, and sighed.

“I know you’re ignoring me,” he says, “Can we just talk? Please?”

Steve gently pushed her door open and slowly entered her room, he looked around for her but realized she wasn’t there.

He checked the time, curious to what she would be doing this late at night. Had she left?

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., do you have location on Agent L/N?”

F.R.I.D.A.Y. responded, “Yes. Agent L/N is in the training rooms of the east wing.”

“What?” Steve questioned, “At this hour?”

F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice replied again, “This is her regular schedule, sir.”

“Why?”

“She enjoys the quiet, sir. It is the least populated location in the building.”

Steve was confused, what the hell was she doing there this late?

He left the room, quickly turning the lights off as he did so. He had to stop himself from slamming the door behind him. His frustration was beyond words; if she was going to these lengths to avoid him, they needed to talk. Something had to change.

Y/N’s peripherals dotted with black. She had lost track of how long she’d been there, but she couldn’t stop. She had to keep going.

Just another hour, she thought, you can take it.

Steve plowed through the gym doors before he scanned the room for Y/N. He spotted her at the punching bags in the far corner.

“Y/N,” he called out.

She made no turn towards him, Steve shook his head at her attempts to ignore him.

But she hadn’t heard him; without realizing it she was starting to lose consciousness. Her hits had become sloppy, and her stance faltered from her exhaustion.

Maybe just a drink of water…

She was disoriented, and felt herself stumble before she collapsed to the mat.

Steve watched in shock as his teammate fell. “Y/N!” Steve yelled.

He ran to her, crouching down by her side. Steve was panicking, wiping back the loose strands of hair that stuck to her forehead.

He tried not to let his worry cloud is judgement, holding her upright.

Steve squeezed her arm, trying to keep her awake. Her eyes fluttered as she tried to grasp her surroundings again.

“Hey, you with me?” He asked softly.

She mumbled incoherently as her head lulled to the side. Steve pressed a hand to her cheek, concerned by the slight fever he felt in her skin.

Then she became conscious, adjusting to the light and her new position on the floor. She looked up at Steve; confused.

“Rogers? What are you doing here?”

“I was looking for you, F.R.I.D.A.Y. said you’d be here...”

Steve took in her features, forehead beading with sweat and her complexion paling. Her breaths were ragged and raspy, she looked awful.

“My god,” he shook his head slowly, in shock, “have you been at this all night?”

A thoughtful expression came over her face, “How late is it?”

Steve squinted at her, “It’s three in the morning.”

“Oh.”

Steve was surprised at her uncaring demeanor; not knowing if it was genuine or simply due to her exhaustion. He shifted to help her stand, walking her over to a nearby bench. Looking over her again, Steve took in the dark circles under her eyes and the weakness in her step. This couldn’t have been the result of one bad night.

“How long has this been going on?”

She paused before she spoke to him, trying to think of a decent response. She tried to be nonchalant, shrugging as she sat, “Not long.”

Steve wanted to believe her, but her state said otherwise.

He called out for F.R.I.D.A.Y., asking for Y/N’s hours in the gym over the past few weeks. Y/N avoided his eyes as F.R.I.D.A.Y. spoke, she was caught in a lie.

Days after days of horrendous hours.

11:00 p.m. - 3:00 a.m.

12:00 a.m. - 5 a.m.

The hours became longer and longer, her attendance growing lengthier and more frequent than the last. The time spent here was enough to tear muscle from bone.

“That’s enough,” he called to the AI.

Steve crouched down in front of her, his jaw clenched and eyes intense, as if he was interrogating her. She wouldn’t look at him, whether out of shame or spite he couldn’t say.

“Why Y/N? Why the hell are you doing this to yourself?”

She didn’t answer, eyes focused to the floor as she prepared for reprimand.

“Answer me.”

She scowled at him, “I needed to be ready.”

Steve scoffed, “Killing yourself training isn’t going to help you get ready.”

She raised a hand to rub her temples. She didn’t want to argue right now; she just wanted some damn water. The longer she sat; the heavier her limbs felt. She could scream back at Steve, but what was the point?

She could defend herself, but this didn’t look good: she just never expected anyone to find out. Y/N had been careful with her secret: making sure she was alone in the gym, being as quiet as she could coming and going. She knew if someone had seen they would’ve told her to stop.

Steve had a million things to say. He was so angry at her; how could she act like this? Didn’t she care how badly she’d been beating her body? She wasn’t a super; she was an agent. She was human. She didn’t bounce back like Steve or Barnes did. How could she do this to herself?

He wanted to speak, but as he took in her state again, he felt his features soften. Even now, she seemed to struggle with their discussion. Eyes unable to focus; her body slumping as she tried to stay awake. The last thing she needed was a lecture.

“Alright, let’s get you out of here.”

Steve leaned into Y/N, sliding her arms over his shoulders and placing his own under her knees and around her back. He stood, cradling her to his chest.

“Steve come on-”

“You’ll faint if you try to walk right now, you’re barely even awake.”

Part of her wanted to protest, but she had spent all of her energy elsewhere. He was right after all; the only thing keeping her going was her brain on auto pilot. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten something either...

As he settled her in his arms he started his walk back to her room, shouldering open the gym door. Each step he took was surprisingly lulling, and she felt herself starting to drift off.

She wanted to say something, but she didn’t know what, “Steve, I-“

He shushed her, “it’s alright, just rest a second. I’ve got you.”

She complied, resting her head against his chest as she listened to the thud of his heartbeat.

Steve tried to move as slowly as he could; holding her firmly to his chest as he arrived at her door.

“Hold me for a second.” He said.

She gripped tighter around his shoulders, and he used his free arm to open her door. He didn’t bother with the lights as he set her gently on the edge of her bed. He left her for a moment, grabbing an empty glass from her bedside table and filling it with water from her bathroom sink. He walked slowly with the glass as he returned.

“When was the last time you slept?”

Y/N mulled over the question, “last night.”

Steve’s expression narrowed with disbelief as he handed her the glass, she certainly didn’t look like she had.

“Don’t lie to me, you know I’ll check.”

Her nose flared in frustration, sipping from her glass before tentatively admitting to her new routine.

For the last few weeks, she revealed only slim slots of sleep. Crashing at late hours of the night only to wake up an hour or two later into the early morning.

Steve sighed, “how are you even up right now?”

Steve placed a hand over his mouth, rubbing at the stubble on his jaw.

He was at a loss for words. Wasn’t she smarter than this?

He turned away from her and walked to a nearby dresser. He opened her clothing drawers, scrounging through and pulling some proper attire for rest.

He kneeled in front of her again, setting her clothing on the bedside. If he had nothing to say, he could at least help her.

“Arms up,” he asked.

Y/N scoffed, “I can dress myself.”

Steve’s brows knit together as he looked at her, “Yeah? Try it.”

She scowled at him as she lifted her arms: she was too tired to argue, and far too tired to admit he was right.

Steve’s hands edged the bottom of her shirt before gently pulling the garment off of her body.

Once removed, he then noticed the wound on her side; painfully swollen and sloppily restitched after strenuous pulling. Steve grimaced as he ran his fingertips around it.

“You haven’t let this heal properly.”

As his hand inspected her, Y/N audibly winced, sensitive from the pain. Steve stopped, not wanting to hurt her.

“Tried to redo it,” she explained, “not much of a medic…”

Steve’s sigh was quiet and frustrated, “you need to take better care of yourself.”

Y/N nodded. She knew it was bad, but she’d had other priorities to attend to.

“You’re lucky it’s not infected.”

He rested a hand below the gash, unconsciously rubbing her side in comfort.

“We’ll go down to the med bay when you wake up, alright?”

Y/N tugged at her hair, releasing it from it’s loose ponytail, allowing her locks to fall on her shoulders.

“Alright.”

Steve then moved up to the hem of her sports bra.

Realizing what that potentially allowed him to see, he looked to her for consent.

“This okay?”

She nodded, at this point nothing bothered her. He found out about her bad habit, what was a little skin?

He tugged upwards, maintaining eye contact. He swiftly grabbed the shirt he’d taken from her drawers and slipped it over her shoulders. The neckline ruffled her hair, as she looked at him through glazed eyes.

Steve felt his fingers shake, slightly flustered at the intimacy of the situation.

Yes, she was his teammate. Yes, this was a serious situation. But deep down, Steve was still that shy kid from Brooklyn, fumbling around in any circumstance involving a member of the opposite sex.

He then moved down to the waistband of her pants, eyes asking again; this okay?

She nodded, before he removed them as well. Steve felt his leg start to bounce as he slid the shorts over her ankles and up her thighs. Fingers dancing along soft skin. From the cold, her skin raised with bumps. Steve felt the same on his own skin, but it hadn’t been from the cold.

Steve began folding her old clothes, distracting himself from whatever this was. His thoughts clouded with disbelief, he couldn’t believe how long this had gone on for. How had no one noticed? How had he not noticed? He was their leader, what kind of leader can’t see when his team needs help?

With a heavy heart, he settled her into bed. Her head softly hit the pillows, she yawned almost immediately.

She met his eyes, his expression unreadable.

She could never figure out what Rogers was thinking. His words were always honest, blunt. But that face was set like stone, was he angry with her? Was he disappointed?

It didn’t matter, she knew what she was thinking. She’d never meant for anyone to find out, let alone Steve. He’d done a lot for her tonight, more than he needed to.

It was more than just tonight, though. Steve had always had her back, and in subtle ways, had always gone the extra mile for her. For the whole team.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled; though soft, the words had been genuine.

Despite all their screaming and fighting, she knew that somewhere along the line, Steve was right. She had been reckless, she had been a liability to the team. But getting caught up in the mission was something she’d never been able to avoid.

“Just one more thing”, she always thought.

Steve saw the honesty in her eyes, and felt a weight slowly lift from him. Y/N was a fighter and a risk taker. As passionate as he was about leading this team, he had also needed to respect that they could make their own decisions. This had come up with Tony countless times, and now Y/N. Steve was still trying to learn; he didn’t always get it right but he tried. The problem was that this time, she nearly got killed. And heaven forbid he lost another person in his life, especially a teammate. Especially her.

“Me too.”

A peaceful silence overcame them. All that had to be said for the night was said. They could talk about the rest in the morning.

With that, Steve stood to leave.

He felt better, lighter even. But as his hand reached out and hovered the handle of the door, a thought manifested, and he became worried.

What was going to happen when he left? Would it be another few pointless hours of ineffective sleep, before she was back there? If something happened, he wouldn’t be there to help her...

“If I leave,” he said, “are you goin’ to go back there?”

In honesty, she hadn’t given it much though. She didn’t expected him to ask, hoping he would’ve left her to rest for the night. She continued staring at the ceiling silence, Steve couldn’t tell if it had been from tiredness or to avoid lying to him. Either way, her lack of response couldn’t be trusted.

Steve made a decision.

“I’m gonna stay.”

She sat up and looked at him; question in her eyes.

“Just so I know you get through the night... I don’t know what you’re thinking. Or why you feel you have to do this. But I can’t have it happen, you’re not going back there.”

She didn’t know how to respond, holding his gaze.

Steve was quiet at the door, waiting. He wanted her safe, he wanted to make sure she was alright... but was he crossing a line?

He didn’t need to do this, she’d be fine on her own.

I can handle myself.

But he knew her intentions. As soon as he’d leave, she’d muscle up the strength to get out of bed and go right back to it. It was habit now, a pattern.

She felt somewhat coherent that she could admit; her head wasn’t in the right place. After all that had happened tonight, she couldn’t disregard all he had done for her. She couldn’t hurt Steve like that. She didn’t want to.

The tension was broken as she decided;

“Okay.”

An hour or so later, Y/N found herself dumbly rising. She had gotten into a natural rhythm of this: a few moments of sleep then back to work. As she started to leave, a hand reached out to stop her.

“Hey.”

Y/N wearily turned her head.

It was Steve, his hand gentle around the crook of her elbow.

“No. Not tonight, okay?”

His eyes were intense; firmly pleading, “Just come back to bed.”

She didn’t move for a moment, unsure.

“Please.”

His hand was warm against her arm. Though tired she could feel the strength in his fingers. It felt stable... nice.

So, so warm.

Compliant and tired, Y/N nodded. As she collapsed back onto the bed, she fell closer to Steve than she’d meant to, resting her head on his shoulder and draping her arm lazily over his chest.

Steve went stiff, shocked by their close proximity. He laid still and listened as her soft breaths filled the room, thinking of what to do next.

“Hm,” Y/N grunted, “your heart’s beatin’ fast…”

Steve’s breath hitched, as her hand spread across the material of his chest.

“Well—” he mustered, “it’s been a few decades since I’ve been this close to a dame.”

He nervously waited for a response, but she hadn’t heard him as she’d already fallen asleep. Steve listened as her soft snores filled the room, and looked down at her in a moment of curiosity.

He had never been close to Y/N like this, or ever saw her in a moment of peace; or vulnerability. She looked calm; and with her features relaxed she looked almost... sweet.

He noticed a small patch of freckles on her left cheek, a small triangle constellation decorating her features. Steve had always been a fan of stars…

Steve shifted his arm, pulling her firmly against his chest. He could rest easy now, knowing that she wasn’t going anywhere.

#steve rogers smut #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers aesthetic #steve rogers au #chris evans #chris evans characters #buckysbabygorl masterlist

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thelordofdarkreunion · 3 years

Text

Magnificent Scoundrels- Let Us Begin

Here we go! The first meeting! If you have any confusion or want any clarification, feel free to ask. If you have any requests, comments, concerns, questions, or criticisms, feel free to tell me those as well. Enjoy the story!

“There’s no way that this is gonna end well.”

“Really? You think? Governments from nine different separate realities, crossing every political spectrum imaginable, from theocratic xenophobes to neo-socialist utopians to democratic federalists and everything in between meeting in the same space with a ton of guns? What are you talking about? There’s no way this could end poorly!”

“Are we ready to go?” The cameraman gave a thumbs up. The news anchor smoothed a back mop that was probably more gel than hair at this point. “And here we are, outside the beautiful Citadel Tower, where the governments of the nine new galaxies are meeting for the first time! We already covered their arrival on the station, and what an arrival it was!” he continued with intense fake-cheerfulness. “Now, they are meeting to discuss policy and open diplomatic negotiations. And while we aren’t allowed inside, I’m sure it would be a sight to behold!”

Well this is certainly a sight to behold, thought Commander John Shepard to himself. Not necessarily a good one, but a sight to behold nevertheless. The meeting had started out well enough. The various governments had filed in accordingly, filling the enlarged space completely. He had been shocked at the sheer amount of different factions and races; there were over a hundred by his last count. Governments he worked for, governments he knew of, governments he didn’t, governments that he had been told to keep an eye out for: everyone was here. Dear lord.

They all had their own bodyguards, of course, so the Council had ordered the Spectres all back to the Citadel. Most of them, Shepard included, were now standing watch over the meeting. Guns were out, ready to fire if something should happen. The bodyguards were all tense, accustomed to being watched by professionals. Well, most of them. The mercenary Pilots hired by the Frontier Militia and the IMC looked relaxed enough, as did Drake. The Galactic Empire’s Death Troopers were completely unreadable. And the Imperium’s Tempestus Scions? They seemed to be lining up firing solutions, eager to kill a room full of heretics and xenos on the drop of a hat. Bloody great.

The meeting had started off as well as could be expected. The Council had opened with a greeting, welcoming everyone to the Citadel in the name of peace and cooperation. Most of the governments had responded in kind. Shepard had to admire the Imperium, who had given a rather weak and sickly greeting, then settled back to give death glares at everyone else. At least they were honest, for the most part. (Or maybe not. He still didn’t know what was on board their ship.)

It had steadily gone downhill from there. The United Federation of Planets had objected to most everyone else's governing practices, especially the exclusion of other species. The Galactic Assembly had pointed out that they let everyone join, no strings attached, and the Federation had conceded the point. The IMC and Militia had objected, stating that there simply weren’t any aliens in their galaxy, otherwise they would let them join. The Imperium had taken offense to this, stating that if a galaxy was ruled by humanity, there should be no reason to give it away to filthy xenos.

The Nova Empire diplomats and Asari Councillor snapped back that their governments were older than humanity itself, and much more advanced, so show some respect. The “sit down and let your betters talk” was left implied. The Imperium had pointed out that they were ten thousand years old and ruled the galaxy with a fist of iron, and had actually told their detractors to shut up and sit down. Adam Vir had interrupted with an utterly magnificent speech preaching the benefits of tolerance and cooperation. That bought some respite… at least until the New Republic pointed out that since the entire delegation of the Galactic Empire was made up of war criminals, shouldn’t there be some restrictions on them? The Militia had quickly followed suit, saying that they would not deal with the entirely criminal Interstellar Manufacturing Corporation. At that point, all semblance of order had broken down.

Currently, it was a scene of complete chaos. The Imperium of Man was alternating between very pointedly not speaking to any non-human diplomats and screaming at the non-human diplomats about the honourless nature of aliens. The Militia and IMC were yelling at each other about territory disputes and war crimes, and threatening to air out each other’s dirty laundry while Cooper and the 6-4 bodyguards of the Militia talked in underhanded tones to Kuben Blisk, leader of the IMC’s bodyguard detachment. Why that was happening, Shepard had absolutely no idea. Cooper and Blisk seemed to have some sort of history, and the 6-4 seemed nice enough.

Thomas Drake and the Merchant’s Guild were presently sitting back with shit-eating grins on their faces, probably wondering how much money they could make if they sold weapons to everyone there. Getting involved was bad for business.

The New Republic was relatively calm, any of their diplomats who seemed to be ready to start something being stared down by Leia Organa, their de-facto leader. Luke Skywalker sat nearby, looking alternatively amused at the chaos and annoyed at everyone’s incompetence.

Their opposite number, the Galactic Empire, was one of the calmest groups present. Several of the obviously military members of that delegation were itching to join in the conversation, nodding along with the Imperium of Man’s points. However, every time one of them seemed to be on the verge of speaking up, their leader, a neatly uniformed blue-skinned man (Grand Admiral Thrawn, if Shepard remembered correctly) glared down at them with such intensity that they meekly went back to their seats. At least someone had control of what they were doing.

The United Federation of Planets seemed to be split evenly into two groups. One was arguing constantly with everyone, pointing out with shocked voices all the horrible things each group had done. They wore the faces of people who believed that they were completely morally superior in every respect, and having groups whose idea of a good government was “if they’re different, they’re inferior” did not resonate well with them. The second group was made up of Kirk and several of the more level headed individuals trying to keep the peace. They had just convinced the first sub-faction not to bring up the subject of xenophilia; if they had, Shepard was almost certain that a war would have started. So thank whatever gods are up there that Kirk can read a room.

The galactic Assembly was presently fractionated and trying to argue with just about every group present, including themselves, simultaneously. Adam Vir sat with his head in his hands, hopeless expression on his face. At least he tried, though Shepard, unlike literally every other person here.

The UNSC delegation looked lost, clearly seeming to think that the human supremacists had a point but realizing that it would be politically unwise to say anything. Master Chief stood behind them, gold visor as expressionless as ever. In fact, if Shepard did not know for a fact there was a man inside that suit, he might have mistaken the Chief for a particular large and detailed green statue.

And his own government? The Citadel Council? The Turian representative was vehemently arguing with Anderson over the issue of human military supremacy and treaty violations while the Asari and Salarian Councillors shouted at everyone present, including each other.

Quill and his crew were seated in between the human diplomats from his galaxy and those of the Nova Empire, and kept trying to make probably snide and inappropriate comments every time someone said something, only to be slapped down by an annoyed Gammora. Vir actually mouthed ‘help’ in Shepard’s direction, as if he could do anything about this.

Utter madness. Fun times.

It was around the point where people began going towards the extremely hot topic of A.I. legality when Shepard noticed something out of the corner of his eye. One of the Spectres, guiding a group of armed figures in black body armor and full face masks into the room. He looked closer. The Spectres weren’t supposed to leave their posts unless it was for a very good reason. What the… The black armored soldiers stepped into the middle of the room, and in one fluid motion, drew their weapons from their hips, each aiming at a different delegation box, ready to fire… and were promptly turned into red paste from at least twenty different points.

Every diplomat in the room stopped what they were doing, looks of utter shock plastered on their faces. It was quiet for one single, eternal moment, then everyone began shouting at once. The bodyguards still had their weapons raised, ready to open fire on command.

“What is this? You had us come to kill us?”

“Treachery!”

“You obviously paid them off! No one except you would do this!”

“How did this happen? How did they get in here?”

“Inside help! Who did this?” Aw, shit. Guns were at the ready, various guardians and even some of the diplomats squaring off against each other.

“Whoh, hey!” A singular voice called above the din, startling everyone. Thomas Drake, black coat billowing, hands raised placatingly, addressed the various stunned and still twitchy diplomats. “Calm down, everyone. If any of you decides to do something stupid, we all lose.” At least that had bought a little time. “Now, if any of you actually noticed before you started to jump to conclusions, there was at least one assassin aiming at everyone present. They were planning on killing everyone here. I know quite a few of you present, and I know for a fact that none of you had anything like this planned.” A few more bodyguards lowered their weapons. “The question is, who did this, and why?” Some of the diplomats nodded along with him. Shepard saw Vir and Quill moving towards his position for a better vantage point. But before anyone could say anything, the console of the Council started rapidly beeping. Tevos answered it with alacrity.

“Yes?”

“Councillor! The Citadel is under attack! We have unknown and armed hostiles in the open! There’s some sort of fleet coming, too!”

“Great,” muttered Shepard. But before anyone could react to this new information, the message abruptly cut off, along with most of the power save the lighting.

“Double great,” muttered Vir, as he slid into position next to him.

And here. We. Go.

#magnificent scoundrels #story #writing #my writing #fanfic #crossover #ultimate crossover #scifi #mass effect #star wars #guardians of the galaxy #warhammer 40k #star trek #halo

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diavolodigitale · 3 years

Text

L’appel Du Vide: 01 What a Way to Start

Not that anybody is really reading it here, but I decided to follow through with this story no matter what.

All chapters: 00 - 01 - All stories in PDF

Rhys is the CEO of Atlas and Jack’s AI is back, surprise, surprise! Now Rhys is dismayed, Jack doesn’t care much, and the events of Borderlands 3 are just beginning to unravel. Is there any way to fix the plot of this game? Would it be any better if Rhys had to cooperate with Jack this whole time? Well, this is your chance to find out!

Spoiler: yes, dammit, it would. Everything’s better with a bit of Handsome Jack in it.

Genres: Fix-It, Developing Relationship, Alternate Canon, POV Third Person, Humor, Drama, Plot-driven (kind of? well, it has plot)

Pairing: Handsome Jack’s AI/Rhys (they’re still just talking, dammit)

Characters: Handsome Jack’s AI, Rhys

Rating: M for Mature but not in this chapter lol

Size: around 3000 words (chapter 2/11)

Sun set and rose, another day began. Rhys shaved off his moustache.

“Mornin’, sleeping beauty,” said Jack, who was sitting in Rhys’ chair when the latter one entered his office wearing only red bathrobe and home slippers.

“Morning,” replied Rhys, eying Jack wearily. Jack almost expected him to be surprised by his presence all over again, but it seemed like Rhys did not, after all, convince himself that the events of the previous day were just a dream, which, depending on how one looks at it, might even be considered personal growth. “Let me say how much I appreciate you not stalking me while I sleep. Just so you knew,” he said, painfully aware of Jack’s realness and determination to stay.

“Actually,” began Jack, idly following Rhys’s movements around the room with his gaze, “I watched you for some time, but your face looked so stupid that I started having these fits of hysterical laughter, so I left not to wake you up accidentally. I care for you so much, after all, and… Hey!”–he suddenly sat upright in the chair and pointed at Rhys’s hunched miserable figure–“that thing from your face disappeared! I could’ve sworn I saw it yesterday...”

“And now it’s gone,” concluded Rhys with a sigh.

“Phew, great job, pal. It was so awful, I cannot even begin to describe.”

“What? I thought you liked it,” said Rhys, nonplussed.

“Yeah, about that… I lied. Didn’t want to tell you this, but with that moustache, I wouldn’t let my kids anywhere near you,” said Jack and cackled.

Rhys scowled. He got rid of his moustache precisely because Jack told him he liked it, even despite the fact that it was particularly hard for him, considering the meaning it supposedly held. Since the day before he had this strange desire to do everything in opposition to Jack. Perhaps, it was deeply rooted in his former traumatic experience with the AI. Or in the fact that he had always been kind of mischievous, either one of those two.

“I see you’re in a good mood today,” said Rhys, making himself a morning coffee. He couldn’t say the same thing about himself – half of the night he spent persuading himself not to bang his head on the wall until Jack left for good. As a temporary means, it was as good as anything, but certainly wouldn’t be a reliable way to get rid of the AI forever. In any case, it seems not to have worked for Rhys previously, so he had to come up with something else. Changing the prosthetics took time, and he didn’t have that precious resource at his disposal in the needed amount.

In the end, when he finally managed to fall asleep, it was at the thought that he was actually a little sorry for what happened with Jack’s hologram during their last confrontation. Despite all the evil Jack had done, he used to be a significant part of Rhys’s life and helped shape him into what he was now. Most importantly, he taught him not to trust anybody and to always swing for the fences. Now, being the CEO of Atlas, Rhys could clearly see that this strategy worked perfectly.

“Oh, by the by, I took some time to look through your files and check out this Kawatagi guy we talked about yesterday. Must say, he’s a very promising candidate. Maybe, I should’ve chosen him as my successor instead of you-know-who,” said Jack in a conspiratorial tone, stroking his chin and narrowing his eyes. “Instead of you, I’m talking about you,” he added in a normal voice.

Rhys sighed, gently lowering two sugar cubes into his coffee. Here we go again.

“First, why the heck did you rummage in my computers without my permission? Second, his name’s Katagawa, more precisely – Katagawa Junior. And a candidate for what? Wait, don’t say anything, I don’t even want to know. Now get out of my chair,” said Rhys and proceeded to try and shoo Jack away with a few careless waves of his hand.

“It’s not like you can’t sit here. I’m just a hologram, you know.”

Jack was grinning, of course. Rhys looked down at him with his tired sleepless eyes and sighed the fortieth time this morning.

“Remember when we first met, you called me weird? Now you’re the one being weird, congratulations.”

“Oh, come o-o-on, don’t be so bo-o-oring.” Jack disappeared from the chair and reappeared on the sofa, lying on his side with his head resting on his hand. “You know, I think I’ve now seen enough of you to bet with confidence that you don’t have any friends. I bet I was your closest friend (and don’t forget that I was your imaginary closest friend), ‘cause I don’t see how someone can tolerate that attitude for long.”

Don’t worry, Rhys, he won’t get to you, you’re thick-skinned now, you know that, thought Rhys and put his mug on the table. He sunk into his chair and turned on the ECHO device to check for any new messages.

“Actually, I do have friends,” he said in his best I-am-not-offended tone.

“Yeah? Anybody in particular?”

“Zer0, for example. I am proud to call him my friend and I’m sure he’s proud to be called mine.”

“Zer0, yeah… wait, who’s that again?”

Rhys rolled his eyes. Some things just never changed.

“One of the vault hunters who… took part in your elimination, so to put it,” he answered carefully.

“Oh, yeah, that filthy bandit, I remember him! Well, not him killing me, of course, but I think I saw him somewhere. Didn’t he have that mental condition? I remember him saying some gibberish instead of speaking like normal people do. Yeah, right,”–Jack laughed–“I can see you two dorks being friends.”

“How could I have survived this long without you trying to offend me all the time? Unbelievable.”

“That’s exactly what I was thinking! Or was that still your thought? I always forget I’m in your head. Anyway, to summarize our conversation so far, we’ve established that you’re a pathetic loner with only one creature in the whole world you can call a friend of sorts. You never seize to amaze me, Rhys.”

“There’s also Vaughn,” said Rhys through his teeth, beginning to lose his patience.

“And that is…?”

“You remember Vaughn, don’t you?”

“If I’m asking who that is, then, apparently, I don’t,” answered Jack, making the irritation in his voice sound as blatant as possible. “Why do you carry around that thing people call a head, huh?”

“He used to work for Hyperion with me.” Rhys threw a quick glance at Jack, looking for any sign of recognition on his face, but there was none. “Is short, wears glasses?” Still no signs. “Has a six-pack?” he said in his last desperate attempt to make Jack’s memory serve its purpose.

To his surprise, it actually worked. Jack snapped his fingers and rolled over on the sofa.

“Oh, that ne-erd, yeah, I remember him. Where’s he now?” he asked, not even trying to pretend that he really cared about the answer.

“He’s on Pandora, doing some bandit stuff. Guess he is working for the…” Rhys suddenly stopped, hastily thinking about what he had almost let out.

“For whom?” asked Jack indifferently. The answer still didn’t matter much to him, but he just couldn’t bear the thought of Rhys keeping something hidden from him.

“For the… err… for, well, you know… coughmson coughders,” replied Rhys, sounding like he was choking on something, and started loudly typing on the table, pretending that he was incredibly busy with his emails.

“What? Didn’t quite catch that.”

“Rimzon raide-ez,” indistinctly said Rhys into his fist and cleared his throat.”

“God dammit, Rhys, what the fuck are you saying there?” shouted Jack with annoyance and jerked up from the sofa. “Should I stand right behind you all the time to know what comes out of your mouth? Even your thoughts are more distinct than that.”

Perhaps, scared by the prospect of Jack constantly following him closely, even closer than he already did, Rhys gave in.

“It’s the Crimson Raiders, for god’s sake!” he yelled and landed his fist heavily on the table. He then took a deep breath to calm down and added, “He works for the Crimson Raiders. I just didn’t want to tell you.”

“O-oh. O-o-o-oh, I see how it is. He’s with team idiots now, isn’t he? Well, good to know. Now we’ve proven that all your friends are either stupid or nonexistent. Great.”

Rhys’s left eye was glowing as he was interfacing with the devices in his office. He took a sip of his coffee, scrolled down the list of new casualties reports and tried not to take what he had heard close to his heart.

“Now that I got my daily dose of humiliating you, let’s talk business,” said Jack and laced his fingers together as if he had a very profitable offer for his interlocutor. “I think we can squeeze something out of this Katamaga,” he began, and Rhys immediately exerted himself. He did not like the sound of that. “I think there’s more to him than you see. He doesn’t just want Atlas, you see, he very obviously wants you to work with him. What a fool! That’s a perfect opportunity for us to rob him of everything he has, including his pathetic corporation. I mean, I never liked Maliwan, but if it’s a gift horse… Who am I not to take it on your behalf, right?”

“I appreciate the thought you put into it, but I already have another plan, and it definitely isn’t allying with Katagawa Jr. He’s an obsessed psychopath and I don’t want anything to do with him,” replied Rhys confidently. He shivered even at the possibility of having another Jack-like associate.

“Enlighten me then. What genius idea has your corporate mind produced?”

“First, you have to promise not to yell at me. My head aches and I won’t endure any more than you already being here and talking to me,” said Rhys patiently, already predicting Jack’s reaction to what he intended to share. There was no way to keep it a secret, so he wanted to at least soften the blow.

“Yeah, whatever,” said Jack and yawned.

Rhys braced himself. Discussing this would surely be no easy matter.

“I want to make a deal with Lilith. She helps me defeat maliwans, and I give her something she wants in return.”

There was silence. Then there was a snarl and a nondescript squeal.

“WHAT. THE FUCK. ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?! MM, RHYSIE, WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN?” Jack appeared standing on Rhys’s table right before him. The sight made Rhys spit out a bunch of his coffee. “You’re joking, right?” Jack squatted down to see Rhys’s face when he spoke. “Out of a-a-all people in these 6 goddamn galaxies you choose her? I see you’ve been a very bad boy in daddy’s absence, completely out of your mind!”

Rhys raised his index finger and burbled, “You told me you won’t yell. I specifically asked you not to yell, Jack.”

“What am I supposed to do then, huh?!” Jack disappeared and in the next second was already standing at the window with his arms crossed, thoughtfully observing the Atlas soldiers running around outside. “I thought you can’t disappoint me more than you already have, but it seems like you always manage to conquer new heights.”

“Look, there’s really no point in talking about this. I’m my own boss now and this is my decision. I was the one to rebuild Atlas from ruins, so I’m sure I’ll be able to take care of it. Please, Jack, I’m tired and sick and I don’t want all this.” Rhys sighed wearily and rubbed a coffee stain on the table with the sleeve of his bathrobe.

“Okay. Okay-okay-okay-okay, hear me out. Just this one time, just once, let me tell you something.” Jack turned to Rhys and Rhys gave him a little nod after considering for a few seconds. It’s not like he really had a choice, he just liked to think he had a firm grip on the situation. “Tell me, do you remember Lilith doing something, anything for the sake of somebody else?”

“Um, yeah, she killed you, actually,” replied Rhys confidently.

“No-no-no, honey, she didn’t do it for somebody, she just wanted to have her revenge on me,” said Jack, stressing what he viewed as essential pieces of information to make sure Rhys REALLY got what he wanted to say. Were he not a hologram, he would probably be shaking with rage as he did it. “She wanted to destroy me, because I destroyed her boyfriend who just wouldn’t let me wipe those bandit asses, which, by the way, included his, off my planet. She couldn’t care less about all those people that died, about Crimson Raiders, about her other “friends”. She is a murderer, just like you, me, like any other person on that goddamn planet. The only difference is that she, unlike us, didn’t have ANY good will.”

Jack’s intense stare made Rhys turn away. AI’s words made him consider what he knew of Lilith, but he felt almost wrong when doing so. He shook his head, trying to scare the thoughts away.

“You just hate her, that’s all. She may not be the best option, but when choosing between her and Maliwan, I believe, the choice is obvious.

“Is it? Is it, though?” asked Jack furiously with his eyes almost bulging out. “Let me tell you one thing. Two things, actually. Despite how surprising it might sound to you, I’m actually happy that she killed me. You know why? Of course, you don’t, otherwise we wouldn’t have this conversation now, dummy. So, I’ll be kind enough to explain. Even after her betrayal, I didn’t finish her off, which means I am better than her. “What is the second thing, Jack?” you might ask. Well, here goes: she is a stinking bandit. A bandit, and the only thing you should do with bandits is kill them, but I’m sure this much you should know by now.” After finishing his rant, Jack exhaled loudly and adjusted his unmoving hair with a swift motion of his hand. To top his speech off, he asked, “Still better than Katagawa?”

Rhys, however, still remained unimpressed.

“Jack, he killed his entire family to become the CEO of Maliwan. I imagine you would think it’s a reasonable thing to do when you want to run the corporation so bad, but I’m sure you know I disagree with that.”

“And what do YOU know about his family?” asked Jack, clearly upset by the lack of expected reaction. “Do you even know anything about the way he runs Maliwan? The only thing I know is that now they are more successful than ever (even though I hate to say it). Use your brains, kid, and you’ll go further than you could’ve hoped. One of these two alliances will bestow endless opportunities upon you while the other one will almost certainly get you stabbed in the back.”

“I hear you. I hear you and I disagree. I’m sorry, Jack,” said Rhys and shook his head apologetically. He was already imagining what would such a start of his day lead to.

“Oh my god, how can you not see that you have more in common with him than a skag and a grinder! He sees something in you, and that something makes him crave for your favor with such persistence. Just imagine how much you can squeeze out of him if you give him the tiniest thing in return. It’s simply a gold mine!”

“He wants us to merge, that’s enough of a reason for me to refuse him,” said Rhys with utter disgust.

“So what? Don’t worry about that, cupcake, you’ve got me, and I’m here to help. Who says we’re gonna merge?” Noticing how Rhys was shaking his head again, Jack leaned closer, trying to make the atmosphere more… companionable, and continued in a calmer voice. “Believe me, I know that Atlas is your child and you would never sacrifice it. We’re gonna… adjust the conditions a little, little tiny bit. No merge, only the alliance. How does that sound?”

Rhys thought that Jack was once again confirming what a masterful negotiator he was. No matter what objections Rhys had, he always did his homework and learned his weaknesses. The long-forgotten feeling of a threat sitting right at his side returned to Rhys as he caught himself thinking over the possibility of allying with Maliwan. Don’t budge, Rhys, don’t let him see that you have second thoughts, he’ll eat you alive.

“Completely unachievable,” he was only able to utter.

“Come on, stop screwing around, will you? You’re wasting time with your fidelity to stupid principles. Have I ever given you any bad advice?”

Rhys chose not to say anything. It was as good an answer as any other. The leftover coffee in his mug already went cold and he frowned in disgust when sipping on it.

“Okay then, I’m beginning to grow real tired of this, so you better listen here, you little dipshit, and listen carefully…” Jack’s tone was once again peremptory and his eyes were drilling into Rhys’s soul. “I’m tryna help here, so stop pretending you’re a princess who lives in a tower filled with her little cute ponies and chooses to believe there’s no filth around her. Just do what I say and you’ll be on your road trip to success. And you’ll thank me later, believe me. If you choose not to do this, however, I’ll follow you around all the time, saying what a sore loser you are. All day, all night, Rhysie. You know me, I’m restless, and I can come up with millions of ways to make you hate your life. You won’t sleep, you won’t talk to anybody, you won’t eat your fucking lunch without me standing one centimeter away from your ear, whispering how much you suck. Now let that sink in. Once it has, give me your final answer.”

Jack’s eyes were glowing. His whole body was glowing because he was a hologram, that’s just what holograms do. Yet even though it was his permanent state, an unchangeable condition, his eyes looked different.

He really is serious, thought Rhys to himself. Well then, guess I’m going to die of starvation, sleep deprivation, and lack of human contact.

“Fuck you, Jack. Fuck. You.”

“Is that a yes?”

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