#living here is. it's y'know. I've been about here my whole life and I have nostalgia here and I have my own room with my own wardrobe

[softshuji]

Any men out there wanna pretend to be my bf to get my parents off my case about marriage? I am so so serious right now.

[steakout-05]

for months now i have had this little story idea bouncing around in my head for an AU of Jetpack Joyride where Barry is stuck inside a big expermental time loop conducted by Legitimate Research to create an army of randomly selected time-travelling soldiers. the idea is very much still rough and i dunno if and when i'll develop it into a bigger thing, but it's a pretty cool idea and it's a twist on the JJ game that i've never really seen much exploration on.

basically, it focuses on Barry, who is the sort of Patient Zero of an experimental concentrated time-fuckery technology LR is working on. every single day, at exactly the same time, Barry goes out to work his salesman job, discovers the jetpack, breaks into the laboratory, takes it for a joyride, eventually gets hit by an obstacle and dies. the next day, Barry goes out to work his salesman job, discovers the jetpack, breaks into the lab, takes it for a joyride and dies. and he does the same exact thing the next day, and the next day, and the next day, and the next day... he's pretty much stuck in a loop of the exact same events happening repeatedly every single day, and he has absolutely no idea about it. that is, until there's a glitch in the system, and Barry progressively becomes a lot more suspicious and paranoid about the situation he's in. the rest of this post is gonna be REALLY spoilery (like i literally just explain big important chunks of the story for several paragraphs) if i ever make this into a full-fledged fanfic, so i'm gonna put it under a keep reading thingy. also it is... quite long and convoluted lol.

as the story goes on, it focuses more on the mental degredation of Barry as he starts uncovering all these weird clues, slowly trying to piece together what's going on and driving himself insane, because every time a reset occurs, his memory of the previous loop ever happening is completely wiped and everything he did that day goes all the way back to square one. since the malfunctioning of LR's technology though, Barry has been getting little nuggets of deja vu and half-remembered fragments of dying before a reset. this eventually becomes him repeating things to himself, little phrases and codes over and over and over in hopes that it will persist into the next reset. this eventually becomes symbols stuck up on the walls of his room and then progresses to entire rituals to help him remember and little behaviourisms like tics and stims to let him know he's in another loop. he becomes more and more panicked and unsettled, paranoid that someone - or something - is watching him closely. additionally, he keeps having disturbing dreams in the early hours of the morning before he gets up to go to work, ones that are symbolic and prophetic, as if they're trying to warn him about something. i've had concepts of him waking up on top of a pile of millions of mangled carcasses that all look exactly like Barry, and having on them them forcefully grab onto his leg and pull him down with the rest of them. it's kinda like the nightmare Woody has in Toy Story 2, but like, dead guys everywhere, lol.

the backstory of this whole thing is kinda insane. basically, Legitimate Research is a sketchy government funded facility that's doing secret time experiments to create the strongest beings for a purpose that's somewhat similar to Brains' Zomb Bomb plan from AOZ (i haven't fully decided yet). Barry is someone who has been randomly selected for their newest version of the concentrated time loop experiment, where patients will be put under looping tests to extract data about their strength, agility and performance and decide what they need to supplement them with in order to create the perfect soldier.

Barry was 22 years old when he was selected. he was actually a relatively normal local Fish N' Chips vendor living in New South Wales, but one day, when he recieved an exciting letter in the mail about a new ambitious job opportunity, he completely disappeared without a trace and seemed to have been entirely erased from the minds of everyone he had ever known. Barry had actually been kidnapped and ensnared into a mind-experiments facility of the laboratory, where they proceeded to wipe his mind, proof of his existence and his entire personhood up to this point, and replaced all of it with fake memories to fill in the gaps. he was then placed in stasis and to be injected with high doses of strength drugs as they crafted a new life for him behind the scenes. a new house, in a new state, all with new stories and memorabilia meant to be lived out by new person. now, he was Barry Steakfries in Queensland, a rough-around-the-edges guy with a passion for action movies and destruction. he was a revel with a thirst for chaos and freedom, but he just didn't have the means to achieve it yet. it was all according to plan.

a big part of the story i want to tell that involves him is that at some point, Barry tries to break free from the time loop by doing something different. this takes a lot of pre-planning, memory rituals and repeating details to himself, but after he wakes up from a reset and gets out of bed, he hesitates, choosing to go to a different place to sell his gramophones that day. he deliberately tries his best to avoid Legitimate Research's headquarters as much as he can, and while he doesn't completely remember why he's doing it, he has a deep gut feeling that he should stay away from them at all costs. so he does. and at first, it goes well. the day is different, his choices seem to actually matter and for once, the feeling of deja vu isn't tearing him apart... until a crazy freak accident happens that forces Barry to die and reset the time loop again, wiping away everything he had done that day. Legitimate Research is now forcefully trying to stop him from knowing what the hell is going on by forcing him to die with each now discovery he makes, and Barry has to figure out more and more creative solutions to averting their surveillance and trying to get the hell out of the loop.

Craig will also be involved with the story too!! i'm not exactly sure what exactly the events leading up to Barry discovering and meeting him would be, but it'd be kinda halfway-late-ish into the story where Barry manages to cut off LR's surveillance of him, breaks into the laboratory and searches through its archives for anything relating to time. during this raid, he accidentally discovers the true Patient Zero to this time experiment: a broken, decrepit shell of a man who has been hooked up to a set of wires and locked away deep into the laboratory, never meant to be discovered by anyone, only known simply as #000 'Craig'. Craig was the very first human they used to run an early prototype of these experiments, but through malfunctions in the threads of LR's technology, he ended up knowing too much and tried to break free from his time loop, which resulted in him being dragged out of reality and becoming completely detached from his own time, stopping his aging process completely and practically allowing him to exist forever and persistently through every reset unaffected. LR relocated him and considered him a catastrophic failure, locking him away in a cell deep in the bowels of the laboratory before destroying and erasing every archive of him ever having existed in any point in time. and now, the same thing is about to happen to Barry if he doesn't figure out a way to stop what's happening quickly. Barry, outisde of LR, is the only one who is aware of Craig's existence in this timeline. Barry makes a vow to make sure that he will never ever forget Craig, no matter what happens to him, no matter how many times his timeline gets reset, because he is the only other person on the whole world who truly understands what he's going through.

at the very end of the story, when Barry finally escapes the time loop and is about to enter into a new reality where none of this ever happened, he reaches out a hand to Craig and offers he come with him to live. Craig, however, rejects the offer, sadly confessing to Barry that because of his disconect from the threads of time progression itself, Craig must stay behind and be erased along with everything inside this one and let Barry live his life. Barry protests, insisting that his life wouldn't be complete without him and that they've already gone through so much together, but Craig assures him that this is the best for the both of them, and that Barry must leave him soon before the window to escape closes. Barry gives Craig once last goodbye, holding him close and basking in his presence for the final time. he closes his eyes, presses his head against Craig's and whispers "I promise I'll never forget you." before he slowly lets him go, not breaking their locked gaze on each other for even a second as he steps into the portal and ventures into an entirely new reality, never to return.

i want there to be an epilogue part where Barry starts his new life and goes looking for a place to stay, and he comes across the place where LR used to be, which is instead occupied with a big square fence plot and a sign that says "UNDER CONSTRUCTION: NEW RESTAURANT TO BE BUILT". Barry stares at it for a moment and reflects on everything that has happened. all the hellish experiments that were once held inside this very plot of land, all the trauma he went through to get to this point, Craig's sacrifice, everything has lead up to him standing here, in the right place, at the right time, to finally live the life he should've had to begin with. eventually, he turns away, continuing to walk down the street. he should go check that place out sometime.

(insert "what a fucked up dream for a baby to have" ending from 'then what' here)

[david-watts]

I miss my room man

[directdogman]

Hi, I hope you're having a decent day! I'm sorry if this is an invasive set of questions - feel free not to answer - but do you still actively like DSaF as your own creation, or is it more of a "it was fun while it lasted but i outgrew it and it's for the best to leave it behind" kind of project? Do you ever regret making the games? If you knew they would get so popular, is there anything you would have changed about them? Is there anywhere I could read more of your writing.

It fluctuates a bit. These last couple of years, I've really just been sorta nostalgic for it. I've seen a lot of people discuss those games being a source of comfort during bad times in their lives, people talking about how much the characters mean to them and it's hard not to smile when you see that.

It's a funny thing for close friends of yours to see people WITH fanmade DSaF merch out in the wild, or to watch a random youtube video and being hit with a DSaF reference outta nowhere. It happens from time to time, even today. On a few occasions, I've even had a person reference my work to me in real life and not realize who they were talking to, believe it or not. It's really fun to play dumb and get someone to explain your work to you like you don't know what it is.

I certainly didn't think any of that would happen when I first made the series, or even during development. I think the normal assumption would be to look at DSaF as it exists now and assume its release was a peak for it, but believe it or not, the official discord only had 30 people in it shortly before 3 dropped! The archive listing of the series (reposted to a single page after the series ended) is now sitting at over 1.1 MILLION downloads.

People kinda assume the true heyday of something is when it's new, when it's fresh and novel. For instance, some people look back at when FNaF itself was new and see that time as its peak because it had a lot of internet cultural relevance as big new indie thing on the block. But, raw numbers don't lie. The series has been continually growing since its conception and that growth has similarly bled over to its fan projects. This explains why DSaF, despite not having a new series release in almost 6 years, seems to be inexplicably growing.

Just recently, I saw someone post footage of a scene from DSaF 2 on Twitter, which got over 16k likes. People praised its writing and largely celebrated the scene. The ironic thing about that particular scene is that I remembered being unsure if it was good or not, so I showed it off in one of the FNaF community hubs. The response was broadly lukewarm to negative. Now, it's held up as one of the best scenes in those games. That's kind of the point I'm trying to make, my thoughts on the series have certainly changed with everyone's else with years of hindsight.

Heh. I'm not sure if I've talked about this in a long time, but y'know, the very first scene I implemented in-game was actually the very first Phone Guy scene in DSaF 1, more or less exactly how it appears in-game today. This was before I'd even written the bulk of the game. I was pretty unfamiliar with visual novels as a whole, pretty unsure if something like this would be palatable to a fandom that was really just used to sit 'n' survive stuff that were far more gameplay than text. I mean, there wasn't any FNaF fangames really LIKE DSaF before that point. Closest was FNaFb, a jokey turn based RPG made in the same engine.

The engine I made the game in is also not exactly fit for VNs out of the box either, and I wasn't 100% sure the idea would actually work. But, the very first time I added the image of the prize corner, Phone Guy, the audio of that iconic cheesy stock track and booted up a test screen, I had a little moment where I said "Oh. I think I'm onto something interesting here." I kinda remembering instantly realizing in that single moment how much potential the idea had. Over 8 years later, I still remember that moment like it was yesterday.

I think lately, that's the sort of stuff I think of when I see people coming to me and asking about the series. Yes, it's really rough around the edges, yes, there's jokes that've aged poorly. But, it is a source of comfort for people and entertains tens of thousands of people each month. And that's gotta count for something, right?

[italiansteebie]

The first time Steve is exposed to subculture, it changes his life. The sneer his mother gives ins't surprising, but Steve can't help but be entranced by the glinting silver on this random man's body.

They're everywhere, in his nose, lips, and when he flicks his tongue out, Steve even catches sight of the shining jewelry in his tongue. And maybe Steve was already 13, practically grown up at this point, but he sees this man and thinks, that's who he wants to be when he grows up.

Unfortunately, that is not how things go.

His mother sees him studying the style of the delinquent in front of them and smacks his lightly on the head. "You have a reputation to uphold, Steven," She mutters through gritted teeth. So Steve hangs his head, and his dreams of looking like the colored haired boy he saw in the grocery store.

So years later, he's still adorned in polo shirts and light washed jeans. He's snuck in some goofy hair, but it's no where near what he'd want it to be ideally.

And here's the thing, he knew his family's reputation was important, but now that he's been denied from every college he applied to, including tech, and he's been lowered to serving ice cream in a sailor uniform, he wonders just how important the reputation was.

--

He can't help but wonder if he's going to die like this.

Covered in vomit and blood, in a sailor outfit on a dirty bathroom floor curled up to a lesbian, who he thinks maybe his soulmate. Platonically, of course.

"I've always wanted, like- colored hair. 'Nd piercings 'nd stuff. Y'know." Steve said, letting his head fall against Robin's shoulder. "Why haven't you?" Robin asked, resting her head on his. Steve shrugged, "Reputation, I guess. I think my parents would commit homicide."

Robin snorted, "If only they could see you now," she giggles. Steve shifts to retaliate, but can only laugh along with her. Steve nods, laughing harder when an angry looking Dustin and Erica barge into the bathroom.

--

They make it out alive.

Somehow. But they do.

And that's how they ended up here.

"Rob, are you sure this is a good idea?"

"Of course it is! Look, Eddie is probably the only punk adjacent guy for miles, and he probably knows about all those records you think you hide in your closet."

"You've seen those?"

Robin shrugs, "When there's a box labeled 'do not open' in King Steve's closet, you take a look. It doesn't matter! I'm sure he knows who Iron Maiden is!"

The door swings open, "Of course I do."

Eddie Munson stands in front of them in all his glory.

"Told ya." Robin says, a light sneer on her face. Steve shoves her over, before looking back at Eddie, about to speak before he cuts him off. "I know Iron Maiden, what I don't know, is why King Steve is on my front porch with Robin from band. And why he's asking about Iron Maiden of all things." Eddie looks a bit like he want's to turn them away, but he steps back and opens the door wider, motioning for them to come in.

Once they're all milling about Eddie's tiny living room, Steve starts. "I know you've got this whole," Steve gestures at Eddie, "Metal head look going on and, well. I need some advice. Guidance, if you will." Robin nods along with him. "Yeah, a lot of guidance. He want's to get his nose pierced, but he only has polos."

Steve scoffs at this. "I have band shirts, Buckley. I'm just not allowed to wear them. But no more! I'm fully embracing this side of me."

Eddie watches, slightly amused, "So what do you need my help for?" He asks, eyebrow arching. "I need you to pierce my nose. Or at least tall me where to go," Steve rambles, shifting from foot to foot.

He watches as the metal head mulls this over. Eddie sighs, and shakes his head, Steve's shoulders dropping. "C'mon, Rob. He's not gonna do it, let's just go." He says quietly. "Woah, hey! I never said I wouldn't do it. I just don't uh- Why me?"

"You're the only person I thought could be helpful." Steve admits, watching as a smirk spreads across Eddie's face. "Alright then, big boy. Step into my office."

Steve follows Eddie into the bathroom, Robin hot on his heels, watching in some combination of awe and fear as Eddie pulls out. needle from the medicine cabinet. "Oh shit," Steve breathes. Eddie raises an eyebrow, but moves on. "Stay here while I get the jewelry."

"You okay, Steve? Oh my god, you're shaking." Robin frets, "Do you wanna back out? We don't have to do this." She says, grabbing Steve's hand. Steve swallows thickly, "I- I want to. I just. The needle is really freaking me out. I keep seeing that fucking syringe." Robin nods, rubbing Steve's shoulder, laying her head on his shoulder.

Eddie comes bounding back into the bathroom, "Hey- woah. Am I interrupting? No PDA in the trailer, please." He laughs. Steve and Robin jump away from each other, "Oh ew. He is so not my type," Robin groans.

"Whatever, let's do this Stevie. We're doing your septum, right?"

Steve tilts his head, and Eddie sighs "The one right here," Eddie places his hands on his own septum. "Oh, yeah. That one." Eddie nods, getting to work.

Eddie lies the needle up with Steve's nose, "Okay, breath in," Steve follows, "And breath out," Eddie instructs, and slides the needle through. In a fluid motion, Eddie slides the jewelry in, screwing on the ball and checking his work.

"Alright, we're all done, Steve-o." Eddie says, patting his cheek, before looking up at the boy. He looked a bit pale. "Steve?" He asked, before Steve promptly passed out, flopping to the floor in a boneless heap. "Oh, shit. Steve!" Robin cries, bending down. Eddie freezes for a second, "Oh shit. Okay. He probably just fainted, it happens sometimes. Lemme get him some water." He practically leaps through the trailer to grab some water.

He's back in the bathroom right as Steve comes to, "Scoops! I work for scoops, please!" He's shouting, there's tearing streaming down his face and Robin is there next to him, holding him close. "Shh, Steve. We're in the trailer, remember? Eddie's trailer? He pierced your nose." Robin soothes.

Eddie moves in closer, "yeah, I uh. I got you some water," he says, handing him the water. Steve grabs it with a shakey hand, "Thanks, Munson." He breathes, tears slowing. "Uh. Sorry. I had a long month. Y'know," Steve shrugs, and it leaves Eddie reeling. Was he just going to pretend this didn't just happen? The guy was still sitting on his bathroom floor. "Steve, seriously? Look, just sit here, I'm gonna go call someone to pick us up." Robin sighs, before making her way out of the small space.

"Are you okay," Eddie asks, sincerely, "No." Steve answers, voice cracking as he does so. "I was in that mall fire last month, and the hospital trip involved a lot of needles. I guess I didn't realize they still kind of freak me out." Eddie nodded in understanding. "I get that. I couldn't look at a blue chevy for the longest time cause it reminded me of my dad."

Steve sighed, "Thanks for doing this, Eddie. Hey, uh. How much do I owe you?" Eddie waved his hand, "It's all good, Harrington." He dismissed. Steve shook his head, "No way man, I gotta pay you back somehow." He insisted.

Eddie mulled it over, "take me to dinner?" He asked, before realizing what the fuck he just said, "I mean- fuck. Not- I didn't" He scrambled to his feet. Steve grabbed his hand, "Eddie, wait. It's fine."

"Fine? I asked you on a date. If you hadn't just passed out in my bathroom, I'm positive you would've decked me by now!" Eddie squealed. Steve shook his head, "I- I like both, Eddie. Y'know, boys and girls. And honestly. I'd love to go on a date with you," Steve said, smiling up at him.

"Steve! Joyce's here to pick us up since you died!" Robin called from the living room. Eddie helped Steve stand, and walked him to the living room. Steve leaned a little heavier into his side, "I'll call you when I'm a little less weak in the knees, okay?" Steve said softly, pressing a kiss to his cheek before following Robin outside.

"Thanks again, Eds!" Steve called once he was in the car.

Eddie couldn't wait for that phone call.

[powdermelonkeg]

just saw ur gale/mystra analysis post. im new to the game and dnd lore and honestly… ur take on their relationship feels like the most natural/compelling one??? esp since its all too easy to simplify topics that have many facets and nuance….

thanks for sharing i love analysis and reading people’s takes on narratives : D

My pleasure! (Bee from the future here: congrats, you spawned another meta!)

I love complicated characters, WAY more than I like a clear cut-and-dry case. Flaws, to me, are what make a character compelling and lead to interesting stories about them with choices that can get them into situations. I'm both writing a fanfic and running a campaign where I'm playing as Gale, and in the interest of portraying him properly and in-character, I've gone into SUCH a deep dive into all the decisions and facts that make him him.

It helps to, y'know, also be in love with the fictional wizard, but I digress

The thing about Baldur's Gate 3 is that no character in there is perfect. I've seen a couple analyses about the theme of continuing cycles of abuse vs breaking out of them, but in my mind, in terms of the characters themselves, it goes like this:

The origin characters have just come out of the lowest situation of their lives (Lae'zel being the exception; being tadpoled is a gith's worst nightmare. You're seeing that lowest situation in real time).

Not the lowest point, mind. Gale's lowest was probably the day after he got the Orb. Wyll's was probably the day his father cast him out. Karlach's was the day she lost her heart. But the lowest, accepted normal for them is what they've just left.

They're then thrown out of their depth and forced to rely on you to live. That's #1 priority: living. We get the extremes of these characters before we get their nuances, because they're quite literally at their breaking points.

Then once we get to know them, we see their wants, their hopes, their fears, as they open up to us. Every companion's story is at their own pace, but they all have a moment where they ping-pong between despondency and desire. Sometimes that desire is what we know isn't good for them, like Shadowheart wanting to be a Dark Justiciar. Sometimes that despondency is only for a flicker, like Astarion's realization that he's condemned 7000 people to a half-life of tortured spawnhood for as long as he's been a vampire.

Romance lets us crack all that open more, because if you pursue a romantic partner, they see you as their closest confidant. They WANT to trust you, so they're more willing to explain how they see the world and what decisions they want to chase.

And then their endings. Those often get simplified as good/bad, continuing the cycle vs breaking away from it. But how is Duke Wyll on the same platform as Ascended Astarion? He's not evil, he's not even entirely unhappy. He might even have broken out of his abusive cycle with Mizora, if you played your cards right. And Ascended Astarion is overjoyed, even if he is remarkably more cold.

I think that the endings are less a dichotomy of "this is good for them" vs "this is bad for them," and more one of "bringing out their best traits" vs "bringing out their worst."

Wyll's worst trait is being willing to sacrifice his own wants for whatever people desire of him. His best is standing for what he believes in and ensuring people are safe. Duke Wyll leans into that necessity to turn the other cheek in the name of people who count on him, while the Blade of Avernus has seized that moral compass of his and forged it out of mithral.

Shadowheart's worst trait is blind obedience at the cost of her individuality, while her best is her desire to be kind to things that don't deserve to be hurt. Mother Superior Shadowheart's whole life is defined by Shar. Selûnite Shadowheart's life is defined by her hospitality, especially towards animals.

Karlach's worst trait is how willing she is to accept that things are (to quote her) fucked, letting despair override hope. Her best is her durability in the face of horror. Exploded Karlach would rather die than try to work out a solution in the Hells, because she's terrified of facing Zariel alone. Mindflayer Karlach has accepted her fate and decides to give up her heart and soul to go out a hero, losing who she is. Fury of Avernus Karlach is willing to keep fighting for a solution, and by the time the epilogue happens, she's got her sights set on one.

Astarion's worst trait is his desire for power over people. His best trait is using the tools he has to his advantage. Ascended Astarion has let his powerhungry nature and paranoia lead all of his decisions, with his sights set on dominating mankind. Spawn Astarion has embraced what he is, and carved out a life for himself where he can do as he pleases.

Lae'zel's worst trait is her blind fanaticism, while her best trait is her individual dedication, making her loyalty a marriage of the two. Ascended Lae'zel is a meal for the lich queen, turning a blind eye to all Vlaakith's tried to do to her and literally being consumed by her fervor. Champion of Orpheus Lae'zel has turned her loyalty into something productive for diplomacy. Faerûnian Lae'zel has seized her individuality by the throat and decided her own future.

And then Gale. Gale's worst traits are his hubris and, paradoxically, his low self worth. His best traits are his creativity and wonder for the world. God Gale is the embodiment of ambition, having burned away all but that in pursuit of perfection. Exploded Gale has let his remorse blot out all hope for a redemption in which he does not die, because he thinks he's earned it. Professor Gale leads his life by embracing the school of Illusion and letting his creativity thrive, teaching others to do the same. House Husband Gale has multiple creative projects he's working on, and Adventurer Gale is always finding new sights to see and wanting to share them with you.

There are arguments to be made on which ending the origins are happiest in, certainly, or which one benefits them the most, but each ending represents the extreme of a facet they possess.

So with all that, there's a sort of malleable method to figuring out the ins and outs of a character.

You take their endings—all of them, all variables they can have—and reverse-engineer the flaws and details they carry. Then you start to notice how those work into their approvals for minor things: Astarion approving of your taking of the Blood of Lathander, or Shadowheart approving of standing up for Arabella. Getting a list of approvals and disapprovals is helpful, but having those endings on hand tells you why they react like that to a majority of their decisions.

You take their romance-route explanations of how they act, and apply those to earlier decisions. Astarion's confession to manipulating you and Araj-prompted admittance to using himself as a tool brings to light how he reacts to your decisions, regardless of his actual opinions on them. Wyll's fairytale romance and love of poetic adages speaks to his idealistic nature, and why he takes a sometimes-blinded approach to decisions in which the "right" answer isn't always the smart one.

You take their beginning reactions to stress and use that to measure how future decisions impact them. Lae'zel locks down and gets snappy when she's scared, while Gale immediately turns to diplomacy. Shadowheart has gallows humor, while Wyll turns to quiet acceptance. If they break from these and seem even worse, you know the situation is more dire in their minds than having seven days to live.

And then you factor in all their fun facts and dialogue choices and backstories.

A wizard falls in love with a goddess and her magic, attempts to retrieve a piece of her power for her, is scorned for his attempt and is cursed to die.

Give that backstory to a Tav. Look at how it changes.

A chaotic good wizard fell in love with a goddess, thought retrieving a piece of power for her would be a showy bouquet of love, and was punished for not thinking things through.

A lawful evil wizard fell in love with a goddess's power, snatched the most precious thing she owned, tried to use it to barter his way through to the secrets she kept, and was given a swift retribution.

Same backstory. Same class, same act, same goddess. Wildly different connotations. Wildly different conclusions as to who is in the wrong.

If you take all there is to Gale, all that the game shows us makes up his character, and apply it to this backstory, you get what really happened:

A wizard, enamored with magic, fell in love with a goddess. His desires led him to want more than she was willing to give. In his well-buried fear of inadequacy, he concluded that the reason she wouldn't indulge his ambitions was because he just hadn't proven himself worthy enough. So he tried to prove himself, but he lacked the context for what he was proving himself with. And the goddess, seeing a weapon that had killed her predecessor, saw this ambitious wizard as losing his way and coming for her just like the weapon's creator had. She was angry, she withdrew his link to her, and he didn't know why. So he drew the conclusion that she took his powers to punish him, and let that encompass his fall from grace.

Was he wrong to reach for what was out there?

If you knew that the answers to everything you cared about were not only known, but kept by someone you loved—someone who adored you—what would you do to ask to see them? What if your curiosities were if there were other planets with life out there, or how dark matter worked, or whether or not we could one day travel in the stars? What if it was the potential cure to an illness that's little-understood, or the way to make a program you dreamt up, or the scope of the true limits of your artistic talents? Would your answer change?

Was she wrong to cut him off?

If you were once hurt, and the person you loved—the person who adored you—brought the thing that caused it to your door, believing you'd want it, how would you react to seeing it? What if that thing was someone you thought you'd broken contact with, like a friend or family member you'd been trying to avoid? Would your answer change?

That's the sort of scope that needs to be applied to this, on both sides. You have to take the perspectives of each party, and apply two analogies instead of one.

Gale saw the vastness of the universe, untold wonders, the solution to every question he could ever dream up, and saw Mystra as withholding this from him because she thought he just wasn't worthy enough. To claim Mystra knew his perspective does her a disservice.

Mystra saw a cruel weapon she thought long gone, in the hands of someone who could use it, brought right to her, and thought Gale was willingly following the path of Karsus. To claim Gale knew her perspective does him a disservice.

Should Gale have researched his prize more, so he knew just what he was obtaining? Should he have kept his hands off a cursed book that would devour him? Of course he should have.

Should he have given up on chasing his dreams?

Should Mystra have understood that Gale's pursuit of power was nothing like Karsus'? Should she have communicated when she was angry instead of giving the cold shoulder? Of course she should have.

Should she have given him the benefit of the doubt?

That's the root of their falling out. That's what leads to hurt being inflicted. Understandable, human reactions to the situations they perceive. Unhealthy, unwise choices made afterwards.

You work backwards from this to figure out their dynamic as Chosen and goddess. You work forward from this to understand more of where Gale and Mystra are during the events of Baldur's Gate 3. Gale reached too high, and understands this. His goddess hates him, and he regrets this. Mystra isolated Gale, and understands this. Her Chosen wants redemption, and she wants to make it happen.

Just like we took Gale's character into account, we also have to take Mystra's.

A goddess is faced with a problem. She uses someone who's desperate for approval to solve it, by telling him to kill himself.

An evil goddess is faced with a threat to her reign. She sees someone who's unfailingly loyal and hates himself, and elects to have him tear himself apart rather than do anything about it.

A good goddess is terrified of the future. She sees someone who tried to hurt her, who's going to die anyways, and tells him to use it to save the world.

Same story. Same act, same power, same pawn. Different character. Different perspective. Different outlook on whether or not this is the right thing to do.

Mystra has died, multiple times, to people trying to stake claim to her domain. Someone appears with the very thing that could do it again, right as she's regained her stability.

She does not see mortals the way mortals do. She is timeless. She is eternal. She has a duty to protect billions of people, and one person lost to protect that number is more than worth the sacrifice.

People like to bring up the Seven Sisters as proof of Mystra's cruelty. For those unaware, Mystra asked permission to, then possessed, a woman, used her to court a man (with dubious consent from the woman), and bore seven children, all of whom were capable of bearing Mystra's power as Chosen without dying. The woman she possessed was killed in the process (reduced to no more than a husk, then slain by her now-husband, hoping to end her suffering), and the husband was horrified by the whole story.

Mystra needed Chosen in order to restore herself in the event that she was killed again, to prevent magic as a whole from collapsing and wreaking havoc on the mortal realm, like it had in the few seconds Mystryl had been dead. Elminster, Khelben Blackstaff, and the Seven Sisters contributed to this. The more Chosen she has, the better; what happens if Elminster dies? She can't afford to have all her eggs in one basket.

Mystra has Volo (yeah, that Volo) as a Weave Anchor, imparted with a portion of her power to prevent the Weave from shredding itself to pieces in her absence. All Chosen of Mystra are Weave Anchors by nature. The creation of Weave Anchors was mandated by Ao, the Overgod, and Chosen are the best way to make sure those anchors aren't drained by ambitious people hoping for godlike power. Chosen can, and will, defend themselves, unlike static locations (which Mystra also has). The anchors are why the Weave wasn't completely obliterated during Mystra's last death, when the Spellplague rose up, because they stabilized the Weave around them.

Everything Mystra does is in the name of the big picture, to prevent a catastrophe like the fall of Netheril from happening again. Her restriction of magic, her numerous Chosen, her creation of Weave Anchors, her destruction of those who would claim her power, it's all in the name of the stability she's been charged with. Dornal Silverhand's grief and Elué Silverhand's death, while regrettable, were worth it to bring seven more anchors into existence to save all of the Material.

So someone appears with the Crown of Karsus, potentially powerful enough to try to kill the other gods in the name of the Dead Three. She can't risk being a target of them. She can't risk the destruction of magic again.

Gale is going to die. He lives in fear. He begs for forgiveness.

In Mystra's eyes, she's offering him the best outcome. She'll let him die in service to her, to save Faerûn, and she'll forgive him. He's going to die anyways, and if he does this, she'll give him everything (she thinks) he could ever want in her realm. She's asking him to do what (she thinks) is the right thing.

"She would consider what she considers to be forgiveness."

Notably, she leaves the decision in his hands. She doesn't have Elminster lead him to the Nether Brain. She doesn't activate him as soon as he's there. When he lives yet, she doesn't revoke the charm that keeps him stable. And when he declines, when he lets it go and starts pursuing Karsus' path, she doesn't smite him on the spot.

She is (she thinks) being incredibly patient. If Gale is going to try to be Karsus II, she's ready for him. If he decides to walk off and keep the Orb, he's dug his own grave in the Fugue Plane (those who don't have a god to claim them roam endlessly as husks and form a wall of bodies around the City of Judgement).

From her perspective, she's not being unreasonable. But from the perspective of a mortal, she absolutely is.

"Now, I have a question for thee: what is the worth of a single mortal's life?"

This is a question she cannot answer properly.

I think a lot of characterization is lost whenever someone paints one of them as being totally in the right. But I also think you have to be invested in them as characters to want to see that characterization. If you want to write about Mystra, you have to try to get into her head, analyze the decisions she made, figure out why she thinks she was right, and follow the pattern.

Gale's sacrifice is a very predictable thing for her to ask for.

[wysteria-bloom]

Hazbin Hotel but the reader is an overlord that's like Miss Argentina

Genre : Songfic

Warnings : Val. Allusions to suicide. Self harm.

A/n : yeah bro idek I thought this was a cool idea if this post flops I don't give a shit I love miss argentina and her song is the best out of the whole Beetlejuice soundtrack and I will fucking die on that hill. This is Alastor x reader focused btw.

"I was hot!" The woman exclaimed, leaning against the bar stool seductively, grinning toothily at Charlie," Went to parties a lot, yknow?" She raised her eyebrows suggestively, mimicking snorting cocaine across her forearm.

Charlie smiled nervously at the woman as she watched her spin away from the bar towards Husker gracefully," I was driving lamborghinis sippin' super dry martinis in the tiniest bikinis on a yacht," Her smile dropped and she pretended to be a damsel in distress, leaning backwards as Husk caught her in his arms with a bored expression," but I was depressed~..."

She pet Husk on the cheek good-naturedly and spun out of his arms," Oh so completely obsessed... an unhappy beauty queen who dreamed to be Miss Argentina," She gave Charlie a wink, flipping her hair before she gave her a sincere look," I had such low self-esteem, I was a mess!"

Charlie frowned in sympathy before she was pulled into a side hug very suddenly, face pressed against... a generously gifted... cleavage. Her cheeks exploded a bright colour of red and she could've sworn she heard Vaggie growl.

"So I gave it all up for the netherworld, I've been here forever, girl." She gave Charlie a wink and a ruffle of her hair," If I was more clever, girl - I would've stuck it out. Knowing what life's about."

She spun Charlie around, putting on a dramatic performance as she clutched a hand to her chest," Pain and joy and suffering," She wiped away a fake tear," Failing but recovering. I'll tell you another thing," She gestured to Charlie's ragtag group of sinners who were watching the performance with interest and amusement," Everyone here is alone!" Their faces dropped.

She cupped Charlie's face gently, grinning wryly," so if you are breathing, go home!"

She took Charlie's hands in her own, swaying her hips from side to side, engaging in a tango," If I knew then, what I know now~!" She twirled Charlie around with a joyous laugh, the princess couldn't help but laugh along with her, the woman's energy completely infectious," I would have looked within and let love in somehow~!"

She pulled Charlie back towards her, her movements sharp and jumpy," If I only knew, the truth back then," she pressed a kiss to Charlie's hand and let go, showing her wrists to Charlie with a cheeky little smile on her lips, two blatant scars across her wrists indicated to Charlie what exactly happened to (name)," I wouldn't have had my 'little accident'~"

She swayed around, ignoring the pitying look the princess sent her way," Don't be blind," She stopped in front of the painting of Charlie and her parents, gesturing to it with a disapproving frown on her painted lips," You left your whole life behind!" She then counted with her fingers as she began to list," see a shrink, call a priest, ask the recently deceased!" She pointed at Vaggie who ruffled at her uncomfortably.

She then began to push Charlie gently towards the front door of the hotel, giving Alastor an inviting grin," Death is final and you cannot press rewind~!" She cheered out with a wide grin to her voice.

The Radio Demon simply closed his eyes with a simple little smile on his lips, striding over to the woman and holding his arm out to her in a gentlemanly fashion, which made her laugh and link her arm with his.

As they walked around the town, demons chimed in to (name)'s song, following her with stars in their eyes and wide grins.

"Don't jump when the light is red!"

"Toasters should be used for bread."

"Never smoke cigars in bed..."

"Nietzsche was right, y'know, to live is to suffer, bro!"

"Don't cheat on the one you wed!!"

"Never whip a thoroughbred."

"Angry pygmys shrunk his head!"

(name) gave Charlie a gentle pat to the head with a little frown on her lips as the demons harmonised with her," Why did it take death to see that happiness was up to me?"

The woman broke from Alastor and Charlie, arms gestured out widely as if she was offering a hug to the whole of hell. She wish she could.

"If I knew then, what I know nowww~!" She spun around in a circle as demons danced around her with wide grins stretched across their faces, her energy affecting them as well," I would've laughed and danced and lanced every sacred cow!"

She turned to Alastor and Charlie, bright eyes shining at them as she waved her hands at them to follow along with her and let loose," I thought I knew, but I was wrong~!"

Alastor's grin stretched as he placed a hand on Charlie's shoulder, gesturing a hand to (name) as the two of them sang to her," 'cause life is short, but death is super long!"

Suddenly, a demon with a bomb-shaped head poked his head around (name), a mischievous little grin on his face," I exploded!" And his head did just that. But instead of brains, confetti flew around the whole of street.

It looked like a festival was happening... and with (name) it might as well have been a festival.

Demon danced and frolicked around as they cheered and chirped out, dancing in the square like no tomorrow.

Angel Dust grinned at Husk toothily and offered the cat a hand to dance which he scoffed and rolled his eyes at but took his hand anyways, a grin ghosting onto his lips.

Sir Pentious was crouched down a little as he took Niffty's little hands into his and they flailed their arms happily in an uncoordinated dance. His eggs marching around them with stupid smiles.

Vaggie offered a hand to Charlie with a shy little smile on her lips. The princess' previous grievances were forgotten as she let the happiest smile spread across her lips, pulling Vaggie close to her to begin dancing.

Alastor made his way into the middle as (name) held her hand out to him. His large claws wrapped around hers, one of his hands settled on her waist as he sang along with her.

"If I knew then, what I know now~! " She gave him a bright smile, the two of them dancing in complete sync. (name) didn't know Alastor could tango so well, that was for sure," I would've crossed every line and drank all the wine before my final bow!" At this line, Alastor dipped her, making her squeal in delight.

"If I knew, the things that now I know~!" The two of them focused on eachother's feet as they tapped and moved along to the music sharply, the demons all gaming over singing from here.

"I would ride the highs and cherish the lows! Going, it's a quick trick 'round the rodeo!"

(Name)'s arm wrapped around Alastor's neck as he lifted her up bridal style, spinning her around joyously. The woman had an arm thrown out as she sang her heart out," So before they lower the curtain, be certain to enjoy the show! That's what I knoooow~!"

He let her down as she danced herself and then gave Charlie a supportive smile," life is short but death is long," she took her hand and trailed her through the crowd to the middle of the square, standing on the stairways of the hotel," here, one minute then it's gone."

Charlie joined in the song happily," thought I knew but I was wrong," the two then harmonised," If only I knew what I know now~!!"

- 👠 -

Vox's eye twitched as he watched the screen, just about ready to explode. Vox had it frozen on the frame of (name) in Alastor's arms as they sang together with knowing smiles on their lips.

Val hummed, tapping the screen with a claw," her tits are huge, huh?"

That made the TV-man snap as he glitched out from pure adultered rage, throwing his "Fuck Alastor" mug at Val.

[denaliwrites]

Road to Hell

Crowley x GN!Reader

Summary: Of all the subjects Crowley thought he might walk in on you researching in the bookshop, demonology was probably at the bottom of the list.

Requests: Open!

Warnings: Crowley is a dick (affectionate).

"What're you reading today?" Crowley asked, towering over you with a contemplative look. You lifted the book for him to see and in return he offered a shocked choking sound in the back of his throat. "Demonology, huh? What... inspired you to read that?"

He hadn't told you anything about him and Aziraphale being a demon and an angel, respectively. As far as he knew, Aziraphale hadn't broached the topic with you, either. To him, there was absolutely no reason for you to be reading about anything even remotely connected to his or Aziraphale's status as supernatural beings.

Yet here you were.

Reading a book on demonology.

You shrugged in response to his question, bringing the book back down to your lap to read comfortably. "I'd never checked out the occult section before, so I decided to read something from there and this was the most interesting looking book on the whole shelf."

"Ah, right." That did, to Crowley's immense relief, make sense. You'd read at least one book from nearly every section in the bookshop -- why wouldn't you, at some point, venture into the occult?

"Can't help but wonder how accurate it is, though," you mused aloud. "Pretty sure we've all collectively decided that demonic possessions are all just mentally ill people being misunderstood and abused by the church, right? Or I guess sometimes maybe people seeking attention? So how much of this is, like... considered true, I guess?"

"Do you... believe in demons?" Crowley asked carefully.

"Not really. I mean, I feel like if they were real, we'd have more evidence than just... the church saying so? Like, surely atheists and Satanists would've met a ton of demons by now, but I don't see any atheists or Satanists ever talking about meeting demons."

Crowley had to admit that was a fair cop. Maybe a little... small-minded, at least cosmically speaking, but you were but a human. That could be excused.

"What if they were real?" he asked, coming to sit on the arm of the chair you occupied. "What if you met a demon? Knew a demon, even?"

You made a sound at the back of your throat that sounded an awful lot like the one he made. "I'd have a lot of things I needed to reconsider, for starters."

"Oh? Like what?"

"Well," you started, closing the book and turning so that you were facing him. "If demons were real, then I think the next logical step would be that angels were real, and if angels were real then the next step from that point would be that God's real."

He rocked back slightly to better look at you, clicking his tongue curiously. "Is that so bad, really?"

You sighed dramatically. It was a sound he loved -- it usually came before something remarkably human. Something remarkably You. "Anthony Janthony Cranthony," you lamented, "I cannot ever, under any circumstances, let my parents know that I regret not going to church more."

Anthony Janthony Cranthony? Why had you called him that? Of all things, to go with Anthony Janthony Cranthony...

He supposed that wasn't really the point to what you were saying. Something about your parents and church, though, that was the point.

"Not sure why they'd have to know," he said casually with a shrug.

Your eyes widened in shocked realization. "Oh, fuck, you're right! They'd never have to know. You're brilliant," you said, to him -- you'd called him brilliant! He beamed at that. "Going to Hell anyway, if all that were real, may as well add 'disrespecting my parents' to my list of sins."

Oh.

"Why do you think you'd go to Hell, darling?"

"It's not like I've been living a pious life, y'know?" you said, blinking up at him. "I curse, I've fucked out of wedlock, I'm reading all about demons and witchcraft and shit. I don't believe in God? I'm pretty sure that's one of the big no-nos."

It was his turn to blink, but his was followed up with a laugh. "Oh, love, God does not care about any of those things. Trust me."

"Oh, God, are you a Christian? Have you been this whole time? I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to offend--"

"No, no, nothing like that. I..."

How did he tell you? Should he even tell you? He was sure Aziraphale might have something to say on the matter, but right now he couldn't be fucked, because you were here, looking up at him so innocently, so adoringly.

"What is it, Crowley?" And you sounded so concerned, so ready to take him into your arms and comfort him and apologize for a crime you hadn't even committed.

"I'm a demon."

The words tumbled forth from his lips before he could stop himself, and they hovered in the air for several silent and tense moments after, where all you did was stare at him.

And then you laughed -- and he wished he could laugh too. Hell, he wished he could hear even a trace of joy in your laugh. But it was all nerves and fear, like you weren't sure if this was some sick joke or if he was delusional.

When his expression didn't change, when he didn't yell out "sike!" or "gotcha!," your laugh died and then you just looked scared of him.

It nearly broke him, because if this was how you reacted before proof, how would you react when he showed you the truth?

But you didn't run away, so he carefully removed his glasses and blinked as his eyes adjusted to the light. Yours were locked onto the yellow irises, the slitted pupils that contracted and dilated at will.

He could tell you wanted to deny the reality of them -- that you wanted to write them off as contacts, but they wouldn't let you, because contacts couldn't dilate.

The only other things he could do -- well, within the confines of the bookshop, were show you his wings or turn into a snake. He wasn't huge on the latter option, at least not right now -- it definitely put him at a disadvantage, made him easier to discorporate.

So, instead, he moved to a stand. And his wings fanned out as you watched, and then, he figured, you'd run out the door screaming, never to be seen again. He hoped you lived well. He closed his eyes so that he didn't have to watch you walk away.

You got up -- he could hear the rustling of fabric, the relieved groan of the chair, the book falling onto the cushion. He expected the little bell above the door to signal your departure at any moment.

Instead, he felt your hands on his face, pulling him nearer to you. His eyes opened, stared into yours. The fear had gone, replaced by unabashed curiosity and deep, untamed love.

He expected many things to come out of that lovely mouth of yours. So God is real? Am I going to Hell? I don't want to go to Hell! What did I do to deserve going to Hell???

(You weren't going to Hell -- but after the initial question, people tended to panic and vomit the others out uncontrollably.)

He expected those questions. A handful of a select few others. He did not anticipate what you actually asked --

"Do you have a cool demon name?"

"A... Sorry, a what?"

"You know... Beelzebub, Asmodeus, Lucifer, Belial. What's your demon name?"

"O-oh... No... no 'cool' demon name, I'm afraid. Just... Just Crowley..."

He hadn't expected to be embarrassed and doubly hadn't expected to see a beaming smile on your face.

"I think Crowley's the coolest demon name, personally."

He could see in your eyes that you meant it -- and that made him smile.

"Isn't it just?" he asked with a relieved laugh.

"Now I gotta know what all you've done as a demon. I mean -- how old are you?"

"Old as the universe, darling."

He could see the moment your brain started trying to process that unfathomable information, and he could also see the moment it gave up. You moved on as if nothing happened, but Crowley took a moment to appreciate he wouldn't have to miracle your memories away before your brain went into nuclear meltdown.

"Why aren't you in Hell?"

"It's dreadfully boring."

"Why are you here?"

"I just think humans are neat... and your lot is very good at making booze."

"Have you done anything cool as a demon?"

"I met Shakespeare, I stopped some Nazi spies, I tempted Eve, I stopped Armageddon..."

"You what!?"

"Oh, yeah..." He made that sound in his throat. You copied it, seemingly from instinct. He wasn't even sure you noticed that you did it. "Long story, but Aziraphale and I convinced the Antichrist to just... not do the whole ending the world thing."

"Who's Aziraphale?"

"Oh. Right. Mr. Fell."

"... Mr. Fell? This Mr. Fell?" You motioned to the bookshop at large and Crowley nodded. "Is he a demon too?"

Crowley laughed -- an uproarious, barking laugh, that lasted much longer than was strictly necessary.

"Oh, you better not let him hear that," he said once he'd calmed down.

"... So he's not a demon?" you mumbled, and Crowley realized he'd accidentally made you feel bad.

He took one of your hands in his and guided it away from his face so that he could kiss the palm. "No, darling, he's not." He kissed your palm again. "He's an angel."

"I'm sorry -- he's a what?"

"An angel, of course. Really, like he could be anything else."

Nothing against him, of course, but he very much was what he was.

"So why are an ageless angel and demon wasting their time with me, a human who'll wither and die? Why go through that for me?"

"Well, it's not exactly our fault you weaseled your way into our lives," he said with an indignant hgk. "But now that you're here, we can't really imagine the place without you."

"I think that's the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to me, and I can't believe it came from a demon."

"Don't let the angel know I let you get away with calling me sweet. He'd never let me live it down."

[juniperdugong]

Hi again!! Thank you for the choso headcanons on finding his little sister, I hope it continues! I was wondering if you could do a multiple headcanons for teen gojo, geto, Shoko and nanami getting an American transfer student to Jujutsu high.

A/N: Yep yep yep, I can do this for sure! +bonus Haibara bc he's my baby

When an American student transfers to Jujutsu High!

incl: Teen Gojo, Geto, Shoko, Nanami, and Haibara

GOJO - Nonchalant but curious - The only questions he asks the first couple of weeks are about why they're soooo special that they had to come all the way from America to Japan - Lowkey...jealous, seriously doesn't understand how someone from outside of Japanese Jujutsu Society can be inducted into the school - "Must have some really special technique or some serious skills to be able to make it here...let's test that, huh?" - Get's told off for picking on you, Yaga basically smacking him to get him to stop - Once he finds out they have a few similar interests (*cough cough* Digimon *cough cough*) he's all over them! - Woah when did y'all become so buddy buddy?? - Teaches them Japanese through anime for suresiessss

GETO - Mildly curious but very friendly! - Doesn't poke or prod too much into their life but asks the basic questions - "What's America like? I've never been." - Finds it very interesting that curses don't appear often over there (In this AU I'd like to think this is how he found out about Tengen) - Gets annoyed when Gojo starts hanging around them more...not out of jealousy but because he's extra annoying due to their shared interests now - Spars with them often to give himself a challenge that isn't Gojo's powerful ass - Asks really philosophical questions about their opinion on the Jujutsu World - "Curses are really powerful here, how were they over in America? Wouldn't it be strange if the whole world were filled with sorcerers?" - Get's super invested if they divulge any sort of information about American Jujutsu - "Do you know any other American sorcerers?"

SHOKO - I'm gonna be so real - her reaction depends on if they're more masculine or feminine - If they're more masc leaning she's SO OVER IT! Get her out of this hell hole of testosterone. - 100% wouldn't be bothered in that case either - she has Utahime but other than her, nada - If they're more fem, THANK GOODNESS! - Finally, she has someone else to help her pick out clothes and go shopping with, y'know someone who WON'T drag her to KFC or the nearest game store - "What's trending over in the States right now?" - Would be so intrigued by the American experience but always voices her shock at how different the cultures are - "It's so weird that people don't take off their shoes in the house, how do you guys live like that?"

NANAMI - Not at all interested - Doesn't ask questions and honestly is slightly irritated because the others start asking him questions about if his family is from America - Treats you just as he would anyone else, trains with you, and goes on missions with you occasionally but other than that doesn't try and create any meaningful friendships there - When they start getting close to Gojo he distances himself even more - While on a mission together he asks, "You actually like that guy? Isn't he a bit annoying?" - When they respond with, "He is, but at least he brings a bit of normalcy when I'm far away from home. Nice to find someone who shares a hobby with me" - From then on he would soften a lot toward them, making the smallest effort to connect - "Here, I got these for you. They're from America." (It's Hot Cheetos)

HAIBARA - The most curious and most intrigued - Never runs out of questions to ask and tbh they can get a bit invasive - "Where'd you live? Oh! Why are you here? Oh! Are you on the run or something? Oh oh! Is your technique super crazy good?" - Always tries to drag them into his plans because he doesn't want them to feel left out - Sends encouraging texts every morning - "Good morning! It's Haibara! You did great yesterday! You're Japanese is really improving!" - Would take them out to all his favorite restaurants and introduce them to Japanese snacks and childhood games - If they're ever feeling homesick he's the one to immediately start researching to make them feel better - Makes chicken noodle soup to try and help but doesn't really know how :/ Ends up putting ramen noodles in it

A/N: Got to this a bit later than I wanted to because I was writing perfection but thank you for the request @broad-strokes87!! This is so funny, I feel like this is how they would react if I was transferring to Jujutsu High frfr Please Reblog and Comment if you enjoyed ! (They act as power-ups for me)

Taglist (OPEN): @iluvmattyb

[eyesxxyou]

❝ all mine ❞

｡ﾟ･ ¡ content. ex!hobie, you cheat on miguel, mentions of fighting, highkey toxic relationship, mentions of sex, hobie being a little shit trying to get you back. you made your decision, thought things were over between you and hobie brown for good. but was your decision really the right one?

wc: 3.3k

You shouldn't be here.

You know you shouldn't be here but you knew he loved this place in all its shitty, humid glory. You knew he'd be here. You couldn't help yourself. Something within the pit of your gut told you to get up and find your way here the moment you saw that post with a caption talking about him stopping by his old haunts before he left the country...leaving you and everything you both once held dear to find a new adventure. Something deep and carnal, something you thought had long died the moment you decided that he was becoming too much; too insatiable, too unpredictable. What you had once loved had become a burden you could no longer handle.

He texted you too. Just seconds after making the most.

'We should catch up.'

So why did you come here? Why did you seek him out?

Maybe you didn't. Maybe you simply wanted to take in this place one last time before he went, revive some long-buried memories you had stored away for your own sanity. Maybe you were seeking closure, the stitches to a wound left fresh and gaping so you could return to your adoring boyfriend at home with a heart that didn't belong to him. He'd play it off like he had it the whole time, place it under his pillow with another man's name carved into the flesh.

It hurt. The way Miguel gave you his all and you couldn't return such affections. He was everything you could ask for in a boyfriend. He was sweet, attentive to your needs, had generally the same core values as you. He was the safe bet, the type who wouldn't make plans last second without a hint of rational thought and just hope that they end well. Maybe you got with Miguel — his overplanning self — to compensate for your ex's utter disregard and borderline carelessness. He was impulsive, just looking for the next high to make him feel alive.

But you had been his partner in crime. He was ready to do it all with you. 

"___, long time no see. How have you been?" The bartender greets her like an old friend. He's an older man, seen all of your shenanigans with your ex. Had to kick the two of you out a couple of times but almost always welcomed the two of you back the next time you came around. It's been a little over a year now. He had seen you two argue more times than he could count on both hands but no fight seemed as permanent as the final one. You'd fight, stop talking for a few days until one of you came back to apologize and the routine act of make-up sex would commence.

You shrugged with a sigh, glancing vaguely around the dimmed bar as if trying to catch sight of something. Everything was just the same. Nothing changed. Your picture was still hanging up behind the bar along with a dozen others. You two were kissing. He held your waist, hands under your shirt as he held you close. Your fingers were splayed across his cheeks as you held his face, a hint of a smile against his lips as he kissed you. You two were drunk off your asses that night, nearly drunk the whole bar, passed out right where you're sitting. The picture of the two of you sleeping with your faces smushed against the bar was right next to the picture of you kissing.

"Oh- I've been fine. Y'know just...living life." You sighed, tracing your finger in imaginary shapes across the splintered wood. "You remember my usual?" You offer a smile and he returns in. "Of course, darlin'. Just give me a moment." His smile was old and worn but warm. "I haven't seen Hobie yet…if you're here for him." He grabs a glass, places a single ice cube inside of it.

You find your shoulders tensing in defense but you don't deny anything. You know he'd see right through your farce. It's no coincidence you decided to take a stroll down memory lane the same night your ex happens to be in town in the very place you knew he was likely to be. But you don't confirm his suspicions. Plausible deniability and all that. Silence befalls you as you watch him mix your cocktail and slide it down the way toward you. All with a little cherry on top.

Hobie used to pluck the cherry by the stem from your drink. He'd hold it to your lips and have you eat the cherry whole. Then he'd kiss you. He'd take the stem from your tongue and tie it against yours. He was always so good with his tongue, tracing hearts across your skin as he made his way down your naval.

You reached into your bag to pull out your card — or rather — the card Miguel had lent you to use. He was sweet like that; gave you his card when you went out. Kissed you softly and told you to have fun when you claim you were going out with friends. He trusted you with unwavering solitude. His confidence in your loyalty and faithfulness was something you didn't deserve.

You know it when a hand comes to drop a bill on the counter before you can take the honors.

"When have I ever let’cha pay for a drink, doll?" His voice sends shivers down your spine. Over a year and it's like you were never separated. Every muscle, even molecule, every atom in your body still gravitated towards him like a magnet. He was the negative to your positive, the moon to your sun. Something just clicked into place and you aren't exactly sure what it is but it makes you feel complete once more. 

He takes a seat stool covered in cracking leather starting to reveal the beige foam padding underneath. He looks different yet exactly as you had left him. His hair was still full and wild and beautiful. The rest was just the same. Same soft, droopy eyes that disappear when he smiles. Lovely, broad nose, and his lips. Oh– his lips were something otherworldly. They looked just as soft as when they last met yours, when they last pulled back to reveal teeth that sank into your skin. Lips that once murmured "I love you" and whispered false promises of the future you've always dreamed of. You and him with a baby, a family of your own. He promised he'd give that to you but you knew better than to trust the sweetened lies that passed by his lips. Hobie wasn't the type so settle in one place, live somewhere quiet and quaint and start a family. 

Hobie stared at you as if you were simply a memory he had reconstructed before his own eyes. A gaze soft and tender yet the lopsided smile displayed across his lips told a different story. He was certainly happy to see you, that some part of you still belonged to him, still sought him out given the chance. "___." He saw the way you flinched, turned away from him so maybe he wouldn't catch the longing in your eyes. You missed him more than you should. You shouldn't be here. "Hobie."

"Oh...don' be so tense, sweetheart." Hobie scoffed with careless dismissal. He reached out, a hand on top of yours to soothe your nerves. "Yer a sight for sore eyes. I's amazing to see ya again." Better to simply let things be. He'd never have hard feelings for you, no matter the bad your fights had gotten. You had left him abruptly, cut your ties to him with brutal efficiency in the heat of the moment. Hobie figured that was the end of it, no use in trying to get a deaf person to hear reason.

"Stephen," Hobie spoke to the bartender. "Beer, please." He slid the bartender his 20 and in passing, caught a glimpse of the card you had tossed out. "Miguel...tha’cha new boyfriend?" You try to search for some semblance of jealousy somewhere in his misty eyes or across his sculpted features but there was none. He just awaited your answer, maybe to figure out what reaction he'd have to that. Funny...he was always the type to assume first and ask questions later.

"Yeah."

"Good for you, dove. Wha’s he like? Are ya happy wit’ ‘im?" There could have very well been jealousy somewhere in the heart of his, residual possessiveness he still hasn't gotten rid of. But maybe there was a part of him that just wanted to be assured that you were okay. As...terribly complicated and sometimes toxic as Hobie and your relationship with him was. Neither of you ever wished ill on each other no mater the circumstance. Even when you left, when you packed your bags and told him to go fuck himself. You never meant the things you said. You both knew it.

Are you happy with Miguel? You felt that you should be. He's everything you wanted on paper, everything that Hobie wasn't. But that's just it, isn't it? He isn't Hobie. He doesn't get that wild look in his eyes when he gets an idea. He doesn't make haphazard plans with no regard for consequences. Hobie lives in the moment. Miguel lives for a future that isn't guaranteed. 

Hobie knows you too well. He sees the way you hesitate with your answer and speaks again. "I just wanna make sure my girl is being well taken care of." You realize that he doesn't give any indication of being jealous because he knows you still belong to him. He's not threatened by Miguel because if you were truly as devoted and loyal to him as you were to Hobie, you wouldn't be here. Wouldn't have even thought of coming.

You sip softly on your drink before the ice can start to melt, snatching up the card from the counter to place it back in your bag. "Because you took such great care of me."

"I took amazin’ care of ya and ya know it." Hobie had his drink in his hand before he knew it. A quick nod to Stephen in appreciation before the man walked away to give them time alone. "I took care of you, dolli." He whispered softly, gripping the bottle neck with his long, slender fingers. "Don't lie."

"You didn't care about anyone but yourself, Hobie."

"Can we not, righ’ now?" He murmured, pressing the rim to his lips to take a sip. "I came back to catch up wit’ ya, not spark another argument. And tha's not true. I care ‘bout’cha more than anyone." You take note to how he says it in the present tense. He cares about you, not cared. 

You sigh, lips pursing against your crytaline glass. "Fine. How has traveling been?" You won't open that can of worms. Problems that went unsolved will remain as such. Maybe it was intentional. Neither of you would be able to find closure and move on if such wounds remained open and untreated. It was intentional on both ends. You weren't ready to let go, even if the pain still remained.

"Incredibly lonely, actually." He admitted, the whisper of a woeful smile crossing the lips you had once adored so much. "Not much fun when you have no one t’share it with." You two had always talked about traveling the world together. Paris, Rome, Tokyo, anywhere your fickle hearts desired.

Sometimes you'd lay awake at night, your head resting upon Miguel's chest, and wonder what life might have been like if you had left with Hobie. Where you might have been and who you might have been if you had simply gone off with him. He had tried to get you to go. Showed up on your doorstep with the keys to his boat and a plan to sail down the English Canal to France, professed his love to you and begged you to come with him. Leave your whole life behind and just start anew like it was just that easy.

Maybe it was that easy.

"Paris was nice but i’ would have been even better with you. So would Barcelona and Rome. 'm going to Berlin next. Leaving early tomorrow. ‘m sure tha’ll be lonely too." You know his bed has been kept quite warm no doubt with men and women and everyone in between alike. The thought makes you sick, green with jealousy. He was yours before he was anyone else's. You wanted to mark him, litter his throat with teeth marks and hickeys so that whoever had the honor of having him would know that he was already owned.

Yet, he claimed he was lonely. He wanted you. He only wanted you. Why else would he have come back? It wasn't just for the shits and giggles or trying to "catch up". Hobie wanted you to go with him though he wouldn't say that outright. 

There was a beat of silence between the two of you before Hobie spoke again. "It wasn't all that bad, was it? To you at least? We had our downs but we had way more ups." He nudged you softly with one of those smiles that made your heart flutter and skip vital beats. You thought you just might die if he moved any closer to you.

"If by downs you mean telling each other to go to hell and me nearly throwing a vase at your head then sure, we've had our downs." You aren't proud of some of the things you've done...of a lot of the things you've done. You aren't proud that you're here and not at home, reading Miguel's sweet message of goodnight accompanied by a picture of him in bed. "Please do tell me what our ups were."

"Oh, we've had plenty. ‘m so disappoin’ed you've forgotten so easily." Hobie places a hand on his chest with an exaggerated offense. "Am I really tha’ forgettable?"

No. You wanted to say with quick, biting passion. Hobie was the least forgettable person you've ever met in all aspects. But you don't give him the satisfaction of knowing that. "I don't know, Bee. Maybe I'm in need of a reminder." Now you've gone into flirting with him and you didn't feel bad about it in the slightest. How can you feel bad as Hobie downs the rest of his drink and stands up with the prettiest grin you've ever seen in your life? The same mischievous grin he got when a new idea was sparked in that brilliantly dangerous mind of his. He takes your hand and drags you off of your stool. You stumble along with him, his hand tightly secured around yours as he takes you to the middle of the bar.

You remember this. You remember him putting coins in the old jukebox to play your song, quickly returning to you to take you up into his arms. Your right hand in his left while his right came around to rest of the small of your back. He'd pull you close, smiling with wild joy and youth and the two of you would dance however you so chose.

You missed him. God, you missed him and you hated it. You hated how he touched you with such familiarity. Knew you better than anyone else in the world. You hated that he kissed the corner of your lips and you did nothing to stop him. You hated that you knew this was a ploy to get you back and how you hoped that feelings could override the logical part of your mind and you could convince yourself to go back.

"Is this reminder enough for ya?" He leaned in and whispered into your ear, swaying carefully with you in his hold. Your lips are pressed to his shoulder and you can smell the cologne he had put on just for you, your favorite. He's wearing the shirt and vest you said looks best on him and the jeans you said you liked the very most on him. And of course, the boots he never goes anywhere without. Pulling out all the stops.

It's more than enough, yet, you play coy. "Vaguely."

Hobie likes it when you play coy. You hear him sigh slowly into your ear. "Ya remember the time when I made you miss tha’ flight to go see your parents for the holidays?" He spent nearly an hour between your legs, ravishing your body with orgasm after orgasm until your thighs were trembling around his head. "Or when we got that bottle of champagne and you let me pour it on you." Then he proceeded to lick it up from your diaphragm and naval. "Open." He had muttered and, on command, your mouth had opened up and you let him pour champagne into your mouth. 

"Hobie." Your tone warns him but he's quick to bite. "What? Too many good memories?"

"I have a boyfriend."

"Then why are you here, ___?" He snaps maybe with a bit of unnecessary harshness. It's all too easy for the two of your to start arguments. "If ya love yer new boyfriend so fuckin’ much then why are ya here to see me?"

You look away in shame because you know he's right. Your heart hasn't beat this fast since the last time you saw Hobie. It almost feels like it hasn't even moved since then. He left a vacant hole in your chest, took your heart with him but it was an even exchange in his opinion because he left his with you to fill the space he left behind.

Two fingers are on your chin and your face is being brought back to his. It takes you by surprise, how quickly he kisses you. His lips are just as soft as you remembered and even softer than they look. They still taste like mint and a touch of beer. You can tell he's been dying to do this since the moment he saw you and you can't say that you didn't want to either. You melt into him, let him have his way because you want his way too.

"All mine." He whispers, lips hovering over yours before he dove back in. All his. His hand once in yours now comes around the back of your neck to draw you closer. It was home. This was all you've been waiting for for months upon months, maybe waiting for him to come back for you. Well- he has and you still don't have your answer. But Hobie's always been rather good at persuading you, his tongue gently stroking over yours to coax you to agree.

"Come back t’my boat." He attempts to get you to say a small yes now. A frog in a pot of water. He was just starting to crank up the heat. 

"You know I can't." You manage to say between muffled kisses. Hobie remains persistent. "Of course, ya can, dove. 'm not asking ya to do backflips all the way there, jus’ come with me." That's how it started. Come with me to the dock, get on the boat, sail away with me. Next thing you know you're in a whole nother country. His voice was so sweet though. It's always been his secret weapon, whispering in your ear with that slight airy tease in his tone.

"Come with me...just for tonight." The two of you still swayed together to the rhythm of the song as it slowly began to come to an end. Between gentle pecks from his pillow-y lips to yours, he kept staring at you, begging you to cave just this one time. But it's never just the one time with him. You know this. You know it won't just stop with this. It's why you left. He had too much power, could make you do anything short of killing someone with enough charm. Look how easily you feel back in.

"Okay...just for tonight.”

[oweninadaydream]

𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐇 || 𝐂𝐇.𝟏

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : Hangman is the certified ladies' man and everyone thinks they can read him like a book, but what neither the Dagger Squad nor anyone else can even begin to imagine is where the hell Jake has been going every Saturday night for the last few months…

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x male!character

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 : mentions of alcohol, some making out but nothing too smutty, emotional distress lmao, age gap relationship (27-35), some religious trauma, self-deprecating thoughts, post Top Gun : Maverick, the Dagger squad is stationed together.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 2k

𝐚/𝐧 : Gif by @tay-swifts , M/N (Male Name). Hello beautiful people!!! I'm so exited about posting this project I've been working on for a while. I just wanted to say that since it's my first time writing for Jake this might be a bit OC Jake but I do hope I got it right hehe. Enjoy the fic and stay tuned for the next parts!!!

It was well after midnight when Jake arrived at the club’s entrance. The throbbing bass emanating from inside made the whole building shake, making his mind wonder what it would be like to live on top of such an obnoxiously loud place, contrasting with the quietness of the accommodations the Navy offered. The reflection of the neon sign reading  “Mon Ange” turned his natural olive-toned skin into a vivid dark azure that matched perfectly with the baby blue in his eyes. The smokers (all with stamps on their hands) were all gathered some feet away from the door to get back in after dragging a final puff from their cigarettes. The queue was not very long, mainly because everyone who was meant to be there had arrived way earlier than him. He reprimanded himself for getting there so late ; in less than two hours the nightclub would shut its doors and Jake would feel like he wasted four hours of his life for nothing. Well, his journey would not be in vain if he caught a glimpse of- 

“Jake”

This was L.A, a city 118 miles away from the Marine Corps Air Station located in Miramar, which is a two-hour long drive away from everything he knows. He had to remind himself of those facts to avoid spiraling  at the sound of his name in such a place; he hated how his body kept reacting to these kinds of situations, but not even a skilled lieutenant like himself could take the reins of these unnamed emotions that coursed through his entire being.

"What are you doing here by the door? I was worrying about you not showing up today, I was just about to send a search party. C'mon , let's grab a drink. Perhaps I can even convince you to dance this time" A wide playful smirk accompanied the flirty comment exquisitely and, even though Jake was more than used to these antics, his heart skipped a beat. Trying to compose himself, he answered while staring at the concrete floor. 

"I don't belong on that dance floor and y'know it, darlin' "

“Oh don’t say that, the 30s are the new 20s! … Even if you’re not planning to dance, you must’ve driven all the way over here for something, right?”

The damn question hit him like a truck. He could try to think of the right answer, but putting something into words made it terrifyingly real, and that was exactly what he'd been avoiding for months. The breeze made them both shiver, as the party outfits didn’t properly protect them from the chilly weather. 

“You're right” he muttered “Okay, lead the way. Make it worth the while, mh?" he teasingly replied. Even if what he was doing was definitely outside of his comfort zone, something about the constant banter between them calmed him.

"Don't you always have an amazing time with me? I thought that was why you only talk to me" a fake pout appeared on the face which Seresin couldn't help but to stare intensely in awe. Their hands intertwined and the pilot quickly melted into that comforting touch. His companion briefly exchanged some words with the bouncer and the doors opened for them. 

"Thankfully it was Joseph working tonight, I don't think Marcus would have let you in for free just like that" “I’m sure you would've charmed him into doing whatever you wanted anyway”

The thick air of the room embraced him as soon as the doors closed and the familiar feeling appeared in the pit of his stomach almost instantly; it seems like it was yesterday when he first stepped into the nightclub he now knows like the back of his hand, but in reality, that day was what it feels like ages ago. Still, the contradictions that manifested within him every time he returned persisted and only grew each day.

“I’ll go to the bar while you stay here and look pretty, okay? Same drink as always?”

It was because of moments like these that Hangman felt comfortable enough to let his guard down and be his usual extroverted self. Grabbing his wrist to stop him from going any further, he raised his voice so his words could be heard even though the music was top volume. “ Don’t you even dare to try to pay for those drinks, they’re on me.”

“Here it is, the Texan charm of Jake Seresin. I didn’t know you could apply those rules to this situation. Are you trying to imply I’m the girl in this whole affair? Shouldn't we at least draw lots for it?”

"Very funny, M/N'' the hostility that emanated from his rolling eyes made the other man realize his comment had affected Jake on a deeper level than intended. “Hey I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t hav- I know it’s  a touchy subject and I’m extremely sorry, please forgive me” the regret was visible in his expression and it also could be detected in the stuttering caused by the words rushing their way out of his mouth trying to obtain his forgiveness as fast as possible. Jake took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a second. 

Hangman was no saint, he didn’t go to church every Sunday or tried to look for a good christian wife to have kids with like his father did in his day. He knew God was not exactly pleased with the way he was running his life but he used to think that when the time came, He would welcome him with open arms (after having apologized profusely, that is). But now that he had fallen for the most vile trick in the book, he couldn't trust that previous statement anymore. Lust was a capital sin, pretty serious if you asked any priest from the church the Seresin family attended back in Texas, but sodomy? Say goodbye to eternal salvation, son. If Jake was being honest, the promise of heaven or the threat of hell didn't scare him. It was the destruction of all the life lessons that made him act the way he acted,  of his purpose as a son, as a man. The thing that truly haunted him at night  was the thought of a deity (and his father)  designing him to be this flawless individual with a very clear life path , only to end up as a filthy, disgusting f-

“Hey, are you okay? Would you like me to leave you alone for a bit?”

The thought of M/N walking away while he sank deeper and deeper in the sea of guilt and fury frightened him. “Please don’t” he begged “everything’s fine, I promise. Let’s down a couple shots and , who knows, maybe I’ll be in the mood to dance for a bit” the last comment was a futile attempt to hide the everlasting agony that clouded his mind. M/N moved so they were a few inches away and raised his hand to caress his cheek. His next step consisted in resting his arms around his shoulders and starting kissing him delicately in the neck and in the whole face in general, in hopes to kiss the discomfort away. 

How could something so delicate and sweet be so dirty? Was it even dirty to begin with? What about the women he had dated? He was attracted to them but now he- Too many questions Jake was not willing to answer that night. He only wanted one thing, and he was about to claim it. 

After regaining control of himself, Jake put his right hand on the younger male’s back to guide him to the counter where people were piling up fighting to get the barman’s attention. Being as attractive and well-built as he was, he obtained the alcoholic beverages rather quickly. After the last drop of tequila had made its way down their throats, Hangman took control and led him onto the dance floor. His mind was only filled of the smell of M/N’s cologne mixed with his natural scent enhanced by their bodies crashing against each other while swaying to the 2000s pop remixes, his eyes fixed on his partner’s hypnotizing movements and his hands focused on feeling what they can reach, testing if they can go further in their journey through M/N’s body. Jake was simply standing close and moving according to the song's beat but in a subtle way, just like he would do at the locals he frequented with his coworkers ; manly enough to keep his dignity intact but provocative enough to awake that lustful hunger in the other person’s soul.

‘Mon Ange’ had finally closed down and the two men were still all over each other on the angelino streets. The tingle settling in his chest could only be compared with the adrenaline rush he had previously experienced on those wild nights spent in college, the farewell by the porch of the first girl he had taken on a date or the night out after his first deployment; if he closed his eyes he could swear he was 20 again, but reality made sure to remind him of those fifteen more years that had passed. 

M/N had this juvenile thing about him, Jake couldn’t guess confidently his age from afar and his curiosity was finally satiated after befriending him and asking him about it directly ; he was 27, even though he looked some years younger. His bold character combined with his kindness and humor made M/N resemble a butterfly flying around collecting the pollen from every flower in the garden and making it seem effortless. That was one of the many things that hooked Jake on him as if he were the most addicting drug out there, making him throw away his plan of not getting attached and limiting this experience with sporadic hookups that would end then and there, never with the same person twice. That was the problem, he appeared and started moving his hips to some song, making the whole room turn around him and ever since then (even if Jake was still in denial), he was a goner.

The next thing he knew, he was laying down on M/N’s bed, a king size mattress close to a very big window that allowed him to take in the beautiful sight of the sleeping city. He had only been to the apartment twice, but he had always  left before the sun had made its appearance in the sky, moved by remorse and skepticism. This time though, he had stayed the whole night that was filled with passionate sex and heart to heart conversations and finally some cuddling that lured him to rest for a while. Now he was wide awake, sitting against the headboard, resting his eyes on the sunrise and on the slumbering figure facing him. He looked so calm, so peaceful. In that moment, turning his gaze away, he tried to repress a sob that came with a single tear falling through his left cheek. 

M/N had always known he was queer, embracing his bisexuality in childhood. Jake had never had any problems with people who were not straight, even if the people around him growing up did, but everything was different when it came to himself. For fuck’s sake, he was closer to being 40 than from his teenage years, what was he doing? He could only paralyze at the idea of anyone seeing what he was doing. It was definitely too late for him. Risking his life everyday up in the sky felt like a minor burden compared to the endurance of the dilemmas he carried with him everywhere, just like Christ had carried the cross all the way to Calvary.

He could feel himself falling for the person right next to him, and that was the worst thing that had ever happened to Lieutenant Jacob Seresin. His calloused hand cupped M/N’s soft face, making the other man lean in closer in search of that delightful warmth. Jake’s lips burned in desperate need to say something out loud. His heart started palpitating at a dangerous speed, as he knew the thing trying to escape from his mind was a cruel thing to say and that he was a horrible being just by thinking that. It was no one’s fault and it had no solution, yet the idea popped up in his mind like an unwanted ad appearing on your phone. His chest ached at the possibility of M/N hearing the words, so he tried to whisper as quietly as it was humanly possible. 

“I wish you were a girl”

[some-pers0n]

Hey guys I rewrote that Battlewinner death scene lol. This time I decided to make Mastermind a weeee bit of a silly guy as well as make her death a bit..y'know.. No real TW or anything other than death and Bad Parenting

The ground quivered beneath Starflight's talons as he raced down the corridors, Glory, Princess Greatness, and Fatespeaker in tow. He had been in a cave his whole life, but never had one felt as alive as right now. The rocks felt hot to the touch. The walls rumbled. The distant sound of lava moving was all he could hear.  It was as though a slumbering beast was being pulled from its sleep, waking to the sight of a colony of ants nestled into it. It wants them out.

"Question," he began, "how long until the volcano erupts?"

"Erupts?" Greatness echoed. "Not for another two years. Mastermind took some calculations and predicted that the next one would be soon, but not right now. What you're feeling is just...abnormal activity. The volcano does that."

"Really? I've lived here my whole life and I've never felt something this strong," Fatespeaker said.

"We'll worry about whatever the volcano is doing later," Glory snapped. "Right now, we have a mad queen to talk to."

"I- I don't get it." Starflight slowed his pace. "Don't you have oracles? Prophets? Why did Mastermind have to guess? Wouldn't a future be more accurate? Not to doubt my father's research but..." His words trailed off. "Why? What's going on?"

Greatness turned away, staring straight ahead. "We're almost there. I can hear Mastermind."

Starflight's ears perked up. Amongst the bellows of the volcano, he could make out the faint mumblings of a scientist. They turned the sharp bend and entered into the queen's chamber.

It was a large, spacious cave, with a lake of lava in the center. Stalactites hung from the tall ceiling, embedded with a rich, deep shade of red. A deck of metal and steel was built, leaving way for Mastermind to stand upon.

But that wasn't what caught Starflight's attention the most. A cauldron of iron stood above them, with Battlewinner poking her head out of the top. Lava dripped off her as she stared them down. Next to her was Mastermind, absent-mindedly babbling and talking to her. The armour rack that he saw in his lab was with him, with all but the headpiece missing.

"– which, need I remind you, makes this completely safe. You can sort of walk, but ultimately your presence is more about your imposing lava-filled...armour– where are you looking– OH!" His eyes followed her gaze, widening as she saw the group. "Ah, hello! Starflight, my beloved protégé! I'm pleased to see that you've come to your senses and decided to turn over this band of revolutionaries. Shame to see it happen, really."

"No, dad, uhh–"

"Fools..." Battlewinner hissed. "All of you..."

"Mh-hm." Mastermind nodded his head.

"You too, scientist... If only your pride did not blind you to the truth..."

"Blind me?!" he snapped back. "Pardon me? I may be hard of sight, but I assure you that I am no fool, right Starflight? Utter brilliant genius. Oh, I'll be so proud to see you grow up. Perhaps you'll too come around to understanding your father's achievements."

Starflight winced. It was hard to hear a dragon talk like that.

"Your son is not here to help you, Mastermind," Battlewinner snarled. "He is here to stop us. All of them... They--" Ice frothed up in her throat, cutting off the words. The shards of frost melted as she took a mouthful of lava.

"What? No! Starflight would never betray us. He is a NightWing. He serves his queen, right?"

Starflight glanced at his talons. He couldn't dare to look him in the eye.

"Mother–" Greatness began, but was cut off by a sharp growl.

"Queen Battlewinner."

"– Queen Battlewinner," she continued, "I'm sorry but we must call off the attack. The RainWings are too powerful and our tribe is too weak to take them on. We cannot afford to lose any more of–"

"We will not surrender to these dragons." Battlewinner's voice boomed. Smoke coiled from her nostrils. The light of the frost in her mouth reflected in her eyes. "We are NightWings. We do not bow to any other dragon..."

Glory clicked her tongue. "Well, that's annoying. I was hoping we wouldn't have to do this the harder way." She walked forward. "Battlewinner, I come to propose an offer: you call off your invasion and, in return, I set up trading between the NightWings and RainWings. Your dragons are starving, diseased, and dying. You should be ashamed of how you've let them rot like this. I am only offering you this as I cannot let dragonets die, even after all you've done to my tribe."

She kept going. "You will also step out of this war. I am aware of how you and Mastermind have been trying to tip the scales. Leave my troop, the Dragonets of Destiny, alone. You will also step down as ruler. I see you as personally unfit to rule. You are a tyrant. You allow your dragons to suffer. Greatness is..." Glory squinted at her. "Marginally better."

"Thank you." Greatness dipped her head to her.

"If you do not comply, I will destroy the tunnels. I will not hesitate to kill any NightWing that dares enter my kingdom. I already plan on informing the other queens of your conspiracies. If you want your tribe to ever lay a claw on Pyrrhia again, take my offer. Relinquish control. Perhaps, in some years' time, you can find your way off of this island and rejoin the continent."

Silence. The rumbling of the volcano was all that remained. The caverns shook as the white noise surrounding them grew in intensity. Battlewinner's gaze remained fixated on Queen Glory. They both remained locked in this silent war.

"Bold words for a RainWing dragonet..." she said, amused. "Step aside before I drag you into the lava myself."

"No." Glory repeated. "You will comply with this offer or let your tribe die."

"You can't be serious," Mastermind spoke, half laughing. "You're just making a joke. You cannot expect something like that to work out. You? You're a dragonet! You're overly emotional. Not thinking things logically."

"Overly emotional?!" Glory snapped. "You're the ones who have been kidnapping the RainWings! Innocent dragons who were holed up in your dungeon!" Red splotches faintly appeared along her neck and frill. "If I had my way, you would be dead as you stand."

He snorted. "Ha! You truly don't understand science. Ethics and morality are mere roadblocks. Others of a more intellectual nature would understand." He shot Starflight a look. "Besides, we need the rainforest more than anyone else. As you said, it is a lush and thriving environment. What has your tribe done with it? From what I've seen, nothing! It's asinine to watch you flaunt your fruit and your peaceful lives while the NightWings have suffered for two thousand years!"

"So? Why should you have it? All you've done is lie and hurt my tribe, you murderous snake!" She spat. "We lived there! We have lived there for thousands of years! You do not deserve to wipe us out just because you feel it's necessary."

He adjusted his spectacles. "Starflight, son, you can't honestly expect this to work. You're reasonable. Come now, try and tell this RainWing some common sense. Do you honestly believe that the NightWings would accept it?"

"No, I don't." He shook his head. "Battlewinner would never agree to that."

"Precisely!" Mastermind beamed.

"So..." Starflight tapped his talons anxiously. "We can compromise? Maybe?"

"WHAT!?" Mastermind and Glory called out in unison.

"I know, I know!" He winced, waving his talons to try and calm them. "I was thinking that, because the Rainforest Kingdom has plenty of space and the NightWings are so few in numbers, we could donate a sizable amount of land to them. Have them build their own village." He turned to Battlewinner. "But, only if they accept Queen Glory as their ruler."

"Starflight, that is the worst idea I've ever heard from you--" Glory began, but was interrupted by the animalistic roar from behind.

"NO!" Queen Battlewinner screeched. She jerked around in her cauldron, spilling lava. "Never! Only I rule the NightWings!"

"Please, listen!" Starflight called out, matching her voice. "The NightWings cannot survive here anymore. Even if we set up trades, they cannot live. If we allow them to exist peacefully in the Rainforest Kingdom, we can leave the volcano behind. No more disease. No more hunger. Nothing."

"That doesn't sound like a bad idea," Princess Greatness said.

"You are a terrible heir..." Battlewinner hissed.

She paused. "I know. I never was a good queen. Queen Glory is more fit to rule than you and I both."

"Sure, yeah, but really? You want me to rule over two tribes?" Glory shook her head. "I can't do that, especially not with the tribe that has been torturing my own dragons." She glared at Mastermind.

"I think it's a bit much to call it torture," he interjected. "I only tested on them for years. Some died, sure, but they were just the weaker ones." He shrugged. "Should've been better."

"I hope that, even if you survive, your body is feasted upon by snakes and ants."

"Anywho," Mastermind continued, ignoring her threat, "I still fail to see what would happen to our queen. She has her armour."

"She won't make it," Greatness said. "She knows this. Your armour is nothing more than to prolong her life in time to see the trees. She will die either way."

He scoffed. "Preposterous! My design is flawless!"

She squinted. "I'm not too sure about that..." She shook her head. "She knows she'll die here. Buried under the rubble. It is the only option."

Battlewinner raised her claws, slamming down on the edge of the cauldron. "You will NOT speak for me!" she screeched. "It is MY kingdom! I will not allow for this!" And with that, she began to lift herself out of the vat.

"Mother, no! Please!" Greatness called out.

"Your majesty, control yourself! Your armour is not fully prepared."

Battlewinner did not listen. Her body slipped over the edge, spewing lava in all directions. Starflight jumped back as a large chunk almost hit him directly. He looked on, seeing Battlewinner's full body for the first time.

As the magma dripped off, it revealed her heavily scarred and discoloured body. Her scales were charcoal black, with burn and scratch marks dotted everywhere. Her wings were damaged, with the membrane showing a hint of blue. She was massive, but couldn't hold her own weight. The armour on her held the lava briefly, but it spilled out the instant she collapsed onto the ground.

She dug her claws into the ground, dragging herself towards Glory. Wordless threats spewed her way, little more than menacing grumbles. Yet, as she did so, she began to slow.

Then, the frost appeared.

Starting from her chest, a vibrant pale light emitted. It was inside her, in her veins. Ice formed, rapidly covering her body. Starflight heard her scales snapping and breaking as the ice pushed their way out. He could only watch in horror as her movements slowed.

Her eyes were wide, a mixture of malice, hysteria, and an utter refusal to die. A futile effort. The ice travelled up her next, encasing her entirely in it. In her final moments, she looked to Princess Greatness. Her expression was incomprehensible to Starflight, but to Greatness...

He turned to her. There was a sadness in her that he could feel even from there. Her breath was heavy and staggered. Her eyes were blinking, just barely holding back tears.

"Queen Battlewinner!" Mastermind lunged to her side. "No, no, no! You can't be! It was all perfect! Everything about my armour should've protected you! How could this be!? My calculations were perfect." His talons grazed the frost formations. "...it is fascinating to see the effects of the frostbreath in action, however. Mesmerizing."

As his eyes glazed over her, he caught a glimpse of the dragonets. "Oh, yes, you!" His snout scrunched. "In my scientific opinion, that was a STUPID IDEA!! Idiots! All of you! You've doomed our tribe!" He stood, glaring at Starflight. "I'm ashamed to see you do this, son."

A lump formed in his throat. Rejection from the dragon who understood him the most.

And, yet...he didn't care.

"So?" The word leaped from his mouth.

Mastermind blinked, squinting in disbelief. "So?" he barked back.

"So what? You're a terrible dragon! You tested on the RainWings! You never even cared about me! You just wanted to see a successor who would listen to you ramble." Built-up emotions spilled out of him all at once. "I'm ashamed for you to be my father!"

Mastermind opened his mouth, perhaps to make a snarky comeback, but a loud crack! interrupted them. It shook the whole cave. The lava boiled with more intensity. Starflight's stomach was tied into knots as the realization dawned on him.

The volcano was erupting. If they did not leave now, they would be reduced to nothing more than charred corpses buried under rubble.

[zeroeightzeroone]

in this lifetime and the next - seo changbin

genre: angst? hurt/comfort? idk two exes are talking about their past relationship

pairing: ex-boyfriend, non-idol!seo changbin x ex-girlfriend!femreader

notes: if this looks familiar, my secondary blog 'zerothreetwentyfive ' was deleted by tumblr (idk why) so i'm republishing everything here on my main blog.

wc ~2.5k | moodboard

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ｡ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:

"how…" he clears his throat, "how have you been?"

his eyes are fixed on the night sky. even with the knowledge that he isn't looking in your direction, you still shrug before replying, "i've been… okay."

if someone told you three years ago you'd be lying under the millions of stars sparkling up within the dark night sky, next to your ex-boyfriend, you would've been convinced that person was out of their mind. especially, if that person told you that throughout the trip you would find yourselves alone together coincidentally, eventually finding yourselves sober and in the comfort of your ex-partner laid next to you. a cool breeze drifting by once in a while and everyone else who came onto the trip were either drunk or passed out inside the cottage. 

you really would've called an intervention. convinced that they were far too delusional for their own good.

then again, you from three years ago would have never believed there'd come a day when your boyfriend would become your ex. where he would become someone of your past. you from three years ago could not even fathom, nor entertain the possibility of being away from the man, of living without the man. the man you loved more than anything or anyone. a statement that holds true to this day.

truthfully, you believed that he would be the one you would love and be loved by for eternity. believing that you waited your whole life, for everything in the universe to align, paving the path to meet the man you were fated for, the man you would call the one:

seo changbin.

"work's been good? school? life?" changbin's voice is quite soft and his tone is a bit awkward. 

he's tiptoeing around his words, trying to figure out how you feel about him. weighing out what you could and couldn't speak about or if you should be speaking at all. the thought of overstepping and potentially making you uncomfortable sits in the back of his mind.

"they've been… more or less the same," you answer.

it's different without you, you think to yourself. 

his absence was something you could never get used to after the breakup. three years later and that sense of emptiness looms over your head.  

"i got promoted last year," you add.

"oh really? that's great to hear!" changbin's tone is excited but at the same time it's uneasy.

of course, he's excited, and he's proud of you but he still doesn't know how you feel about him right now. what if he makes you uncomfortable with too much excitement? or a lack of excitement? changbin's treading lightly.

"… uh… sorry–"

"—how about you? how have you been?" you're quick to cut him off. 

if you didn't, changbin would go on rambling and apologizing; something you picked up on very early into your relationship. the man lying next to you apologizes for everything, regardless of if he is at fault or not. even if there is no fault, he finds himself apologizing anyway.

"last i remember you were working a big project."

changbin blinks, taken aback by the sudden interruption but he composes himself quickly, "o-oh! i've been doing good as well. happy that it's done."

"how'd it go?" you wonder.

"it was... definitely a lot more than we expected to take on. the clients decided they wanted to expand more on their vision. change up a lot of pre-made plans."

"ah, i see... i can't tell if that's good or bad?"

"i'd say it's both," you can hear the slight smile in his tone, "a lot of work done being scrapped which, y'know, isn't exactly ideal. but they agreed to pay us more which is good. i'd say we were rewarded adequately for the work we put in."

you hum, "well, then, i'm happy for you."

silence looms in the air between the two of you. neither of you knows what to say to the other, how to continue a conversation. 

the both of you stare up at the stars overhead; most of which you aren't able to see on a daily due to the light pollution in the city. while there is a silence that has fallen between you two, it's not an uncomfortable one. neither of you are itching to escape an awkward atmosphere, to escape being around your ex. instead you find yourselves in a comfortable space in the presence of the one lying next to you.

basking in a presence neither of you has had the opportunity to be comforted by, let alone be around, in the past three years.

you find yourself instinctively fiddling with the ends of your hoodie sleeves, pulling them over your hands and hiding them inside. beside you, changbin adjusts his arm to rest behind his head while the other one rests on his stomach.

"y'know what this reminds me of?" he says suddenly, in a hushed tone, "reminds me of our two-year anniversary."

tearing your eyes off the sky, you turn your head to changbin's direction. 

you let your eyes linger on him for a moment. entranced by how the stars and the moon illuminate his features in such a soft and gentle manner. it's been three years since you've been this physically close to changbin, let alone seen the man, you can't help but analyze his features like it's the first time. looking over the features you fell in love with way back when.

changbin looks just as amazing as ever, maybe even more attractive. he still sports those soft, dark curls in his shaggy hair that falls right under his eyes. he's more buff in comparison to when you last saw him three years ago.

the longer you let your eyes look over him, the more you're taken back, that sense of nostalgia washing over you. he's right, this moment is reminiscent of your two-year anniversary. 

you remember the months leading up to that day as if it were yesterday.

you remember repeatedly asking your boyfriend how you two should celebrate the milestone that was coming just around the corner. in response, he would always say he would be the one to take care of everything and that all you needed to do was sit back and relax. 

the boy was clad in light blue denim jeans, a navy varsity-styled jacket with a white shirt underneath, his hair tousled as it fell in front of his black-rimmed glasses when he knocked at your door. greeting your family before whisking you away for a night you will never forget.

changbin quite literally drove you off into the sunset, one hand gripping the wheel whilst his other held your hand in his. the both of you belting out to the playlist you created together, one that grew as each day passed. 

by the time you arrived at your destination, the sun had set behind the skyline as the dark sky loomed over the city. you remember the way your jaw slacked in awe at the breathtaking sight of all the stars. 

"i've never been this close to the stars! they're so much closer from up here!" 

you stood there gaping at the stars for what felt like eternity, while changbin stood beside you, his eyes full of affection as he stared at you. oh, his eyes. you would think he captured the stars in his eyes with the way they sparkled at the sight of you. that night on the hill, you and changbin were laid next to each other on the hood of his car, cuddled in each other's arms as you talked about anything and everything that came into your minds.

there you were in the arms of your lover, alone together in your own starry heaven. everything seized to exist other than you and your intertwined hearts.

you and changbin, together against the world.

nothing will ever come close to that level of perfection. that ethereal moment you've etched into your brain, you'd much rather be damned than to have that moment wiped from your memory.

"yeah… it does. the sky, the stars… just... everything brings me back."

"it was definitely not as chilly that night," changbin smiles.

half of his statement refers to the weather and the other half refers to how you were huddled up next to him that night. as opposed to now, where the space between your bodies lets in a cool draft.

you chuckle and shake your head, "the weather was great, not too hot and not too cold. just perfect."

lying next to him, reminiscing on your two-year anniversary as a couple has a question popping up in your minds.

if given the chance, would you go back? would you choose each other again?

the question is nothing new. a recurring thought over the past three years. 

over the past three years, you've collected a pool of unanswered questions regarding your relationship with changbin: the how's, what's, when's and why's. how could you not wonder? nothing in the world could surpass your love for seo changbin.

three years later and you have never loved as deeply as you have for the man beside you.

you're both listening to the steady breaths of the one lying next you as both your minds run a mile a minute. allowing a brief silence to settle before changbin is the one to break the silence.

"i'm sorry."

"sorry? ...for what?"

"just… everything."

when you turn to look in changbin's direction, your eyes meet for the first time that night. god, it feels as if your heart stopped at that exact moment. the delay was so long you could have dropped dead right there.

but you lived off the way your eyes locked with changbin's. finding your breath again with each twinkle of the stars reflecting off his black-rimmed glasses. finding your pulse starting up again, this time beating out of your chest as his deep brown eyes bore into your own. breathing the life back into you.

your gazes soften, a wave of nostalgia washing over the both of you; a memory of what you once had together.

a breath of the life you shared three years ago.

you stare at each other wordlessly. soaking in a feeling of comfort neither of you has felt in three years, one you only received from the one lying next to you.

"i'm sorry too. for everything."

"it's not your fault," he shakes his head, "i fell short in the end and i wasn't the boyfriend you deserved."

you're shaking your own head, "i was a terrible girlfriend. i wouldn't have stayed with me either."

"you were–are– amazing," changbin states, "you've always been."

"that's not true. don't say that, i know i hurt you with the things i said."

somewhere along the line of your relationship with changbin, things started to go awry. your lives began to clash; school and work priorities building and creating distance between you two. it felt like your relationship was slowly slipping away, schedules ran tight and pressures ran high. 

you remember petty arguments, the back-and-forth bickering between the both of you when you were able to see each other. 

"and i hurt you. i was never there when you needed me, i promised you that you could trust me, depend on me but i broke that in the end."

"that's not your fault. i couldn't be there when you needed me either."

"and that wasn't your fault either, our schedules didn't line up anymore."

"but… i could've tried har—"

"there was only so much we could do and you tried your absolute hardest," changbin interrupts you, "time just... wasn't on our side."

you hate to admit that even without the petty, groundless arguments, the end was inevitable. 

your relationship no longer fit into the other's increasingly hectic schedule, any and all the attempts came with sacrifices with school or work, and in the end, there was no healthy way to incorporate that time for each other. all the time you did spend together was plagued by stress and high tensions, only pushing you two further apart. 

no matter how hard you tried to salvage your relationship, everything else tried even harder to ruin it.  

the anger and dejection only grew stronger as time passed. the both of you wondering why things weren't going your way no matter how hard you worked for it. you felt dejected that your efforts came without fruition. upset that the time you did have together was limited, fleeting and full of the pressures your individual lives were weighing on you. 

"can i ask something?" your voice is almost inaudible but changbin hums in response, "why did you leave when you did?"

changbin blinks slowly as he processes your words.

"i didn't want things to get worse."

"what do you mean?"

"i didn't want to end things between us on a bad note. for us to part ways hating each other."

"i could never hate you."

"maybe, but we'd grow to resent each other even if we didn't mean to. wondering if our efforts were in vain, that no matter how hard we tried the universe worked harder against us."

"did you… resent me in the end?"

"i would've rather died instead of growing to hate or resent you."

your head snaps in his direction and his to yours. your eyes wide with shock at how he said that without hesitation.

"what we had between us, i didn't want it to be overshadowed by months of arguing."

changbin has never loved anyone the way he loves you. 

early on in your relationship, changbin wholeheartedly believed you were the best thing to ever happen to him. no one cared for him, accepted him and understood him in the way you did. no one made him as happy as you did.

when he realized that your relationship became a source of stress in your increasingly hectic lives, he made the difficult decision to leave.

the people that come in and out of your life come either as a blessing or a lesson; changbin believes you are a blessing in his life.

people slip in and out of your life, fuck around and make you rethink everything. the memories of them are associated with the phrases: "i should have known better" or "you learn from your mistakes".

and he would rather be damned than to be a lesson.

he knew that with the direction both your lives were headed into at the time, the end was inevitable and if things between you two had to end then, in your out-of-control lives, he wanted the last semblance of control here.

"the thought of losing you scared me shitless," changbin continues, "but what scared me even more was that you could one day regret all of this, everything we had. that you would leave regretting ever loving me."

"… i didn't know you were thinking that way," your voice trails off at the end, thoughts still delayed as you process the words of your ex-boyfriend lying next to you.

you take a moment before you continue.

"at one point, i wasn't even mad or upset with you anymore... i was mad at the universe. the circumstances."

when you and changbin broke up, you often wondered what the universe had in store for you after such excruciating heartbreak. but the pain didn't even stop with changbin; it seemed like the universe had it against you as else in your life began to downward spiral. 

you struggled to adjust to the growing hustle and bustle of your life while also struggling to adapt without your person.

oftentimes, you imagined taking a trek up to climb the tallest mountain in the world. exerting all that blood, sweat and tears for the opportunity to let everything out into the void. you imagined standing on the highest point on earth would be as physically close as you could get to the universe. 

maybe from up there, the universe would be able to hear the desperation, the pain that came from wondering what you did to deserve this; to have loved so passionately and to have lost, to experience such excruciating pain.

if the universe didn't align for a life with changbin, you laid awake wondering what it did align for. if it would be worth it. 

what could be more worth it than him? 

with a bittersweet smile on your lips you say, "nothing aligned for us in this lifetime. maybe, in the next lifetime."

you're trying your hardest to control and suppress your emotions as your eyes gloss over, tears threatening to fall. changbin's eyes stay fixed on you as he, much like you did earlier, analyzes your features all over again as if it was the first time.

changbin pays close attention to every detail, etching it into his mind.

"whose to say that?" changbin's eyes meet your own once again, a glint present in his chocolate brown orbs, "this lifetime isn't over yet."

your eyes, still blown wide with surprise, meet changbin's. you would think he captured the stars in his eyes with the way they sparkled at the sight of you.

"in this lifetime and the next, i'll love you."

"does that mean you'll love me for eternity?"

"our love is so strong it transcends lifetimes. we'll always find our way back to each other."

main masterlist

[vaguely-concerned]

Thoughts upon finishing Master and Apprentice! A good double read with Padawan; the ending of that leaving Obi-Wan slightly hopeful about his relationship to Qui-Gon makes for a very sad yet hilarious ‘Local Padawan loses last little bit of hope he didn’t even know he still had’ sort of vibe to the beginning of this one, which is set one (1) year later and Obi-Wan is So Done with Qui-Gon’s whole deal by this point (correctly btw). Also if you can’t tell already I will not be objective or free from bias in this because I love Obi-Wan so much and some of the stuff Qui-Gon pulled made me incandescent with rage on his behalf <3 let’s go

- 'oh obi-wan, you're so mature for your age, I keep forgetting you're only seventeen years old,' qui-gon says, word for word, repeatedly, in master and apprentice, apparently willfully deaf to the industrial-sized warning bells about their relationship dynamic that should probably be setting off in his head. qui-gon believes in vibing with the living force and being in the moment right up until the moment requires him to pay attention to the kid he's raising for more than oh, one and a half minutes of self-effacing inner monologue and then he's like 'well unfortunately there is simply no time for that right now there are prophecies to be pondered'. (the fact that the admission that obi-wan has essentially been left to raise himself emotionally and the resigned reframing of that as 'and maybe that is a good thing!' is part of the olive branch they extend to each other towards the end... will my sadness never end)

- most of all it's so heartbreaking to me that qui-gon seemingly never understands just how much obi-wan as a person is rooted deeply in shame. I don't think that's a feeling that's particularly prevalent in qui-gon's own inner world so he doesn't recognize how central it is in obi-wan's psychology and completely misunderstands and misaligns with him again and again and again and then gets annoyed with obi-wan for that, thus making the shame even deeper. doubly painful because he does see the way rael lives so much of his life out of shame now and feels sad about it, but can't see the way he's contributing to obi-wan doing so. this is what fucks me up so bad about the generational trauma in star wars -- no one here meant to be cruel. for all his faults I do think qui-gon does love obi-wan and doesn't mean to hurt him. but the original sin of the prequels as far as I'm concerned is qui-gon tenderly drying away obi-wan's tears as he's dying even while completely failing to see him, his eyes too fixed on anakin's future to actually be with obi-wan, who's there right now and needs him.

these are simply very different people trying and failing to understand each other, and the harm that can still happen in that… 'if you love me, you don't love me in a way I understand', all the way through the disaster line, even when the love is there, it is there, that’s what hurts the most, it just doesn’t reach where it’s needed, there’s a connection that doesn’t happen. (ironically I think ahsoka doesn't doubt that anakin loves her, it's just uh everything else that went down. so y'know family curse broken! new even more fucked up curse achieved now with more child murder. I mean there already was some child murder in this family but anakin upped the game exponentially) 

- a lil guy who's basically tarzan except the gorillas are replaced with protocol droids and then he becomes a jewel thief is one of the funniest star wars concepts I've ever heard and I hope pax and rahara get to pop up in more star wars media, they’re great fun. (also an idea I think would be super fun to make a character/campaign around in Edge of the Empire or something, everyone playing different droids and then one person being robo-parented lol) 

- was not prepared to have rael posit a theory of what essentially seems to be the jedi version of predestination in his despair, but I do love to see it haha. especially interesting since he, qui-gon and dooku must be among the people alive who've studied the prophecies in most depth, and they've all reached different conclusions -- dooku decides to join the war of light and dark on the side of dark for some reason, qui-gon (possibly the stubbornest fucker the jedi order ever produced) 'turns towards the light not to win some great cosmic game, but because it is the light', and rael in the middle falls into the depressed apathy of 'it doesn't matter what we do here, the outcome is already decided; for there to be true balance there has to be as much dark as light in the world so we're fucked'. but in the end he does take qui-gon's words to heart and turns towards the light rather than accepting dooku's offer, even if he might not believe it makes a difference in the long run. man I love rael. hobo-looking sonofabitch living in a castle for eight years will just suddenly fling out some deep jedi theology huh

- master rael 'I'm gonna make up for the big terrible mistake I made on accident by making an even bigger more premeditated mistake on purpose' averross (affectionate)

- the added layer to dooku’s fascination with prophecy after reading dooku: jedi lost — that his best friend in the world was a seer who couldn’t turn it off and it destroyed him……….. dooku you’re not getting him back if you just understand what he saw you know that right

- the more I read of master and apprentice the more I realize that the reason yoda and qui-gon don't get along is that they're two of the judgiest bitches the jedi order ever produced. They’re like two cats scowling judgmentally at each other from opposite sides of the room pretending to live and let live while going ‘you’re wrong tho’ internally. 

- I dunk on him constantly (not entirely without affection, however grudging), but Qui-Gon is genuinely a really interesting character. He’s so… he’s so. He’s infuriating but he’s infuriating in an equidistant sort of way. You feel me. He’s pissing everyone off equally and he just doesn’t care because again, he’s the stubbornest judgiest bitch around and thinks he’s right all the time. I would be free to just enjoy his ornery ‘no actually I’m right about this’ ass and the chaos he wreaks so much more if Obi-Wan didn’t have to live with the emotional consequences of it lol. 

- poor rael closing in on fifty with his puriteen middle-aged little brother clutching pearls about his getting laid once in a blue moon fhdskjahfas. again a really interesting insight into different ways of interpreting the jedi code, though, I love seeing the jedi not be an ideological monolith. to be fair to rael, having sex sometimes does seem to be the indulgence he has that causes the least conflict with his principles or loyalties so you know what honestly force speed you my friend why not. (and then there's qui-gon 'noooo sex is only okay if you're In Love (implied: like I was)!!!' jinn lmao. I wonder what he'd think of anakin and padme's relationship, would that pass the 'being sufficiently purely in love' test for him) I do like how consistently it’s shown that rael doesn’t mean to be cruel or unkind in anything he says, he always notices something landing too close to home and then pulls carefully back from it instead of pushing on. He seems to be the emotional intelligence powerhouse in this lineage (as long as he doesn’t have his feelings too tangled up in something, at least). 

Dooku: jedi lost also shows us that dooku absolutely knows rael is out there in the galaxy laying pipe and is, at worst, softly amused by it. So in this little family unit it’s only qui-gon losing his mind over it fjsdkafa I’m so used to having qui-gon be the wild card maverick compared to obi-wan ‘*in tears* but what are the RULES master’ kenobi, it’s so fucking funny that within the context that raised him he’s the stick in the mud 

I guess. the book also had a plot and it was not bad! some interesting insights about how the republic interacted with the big corporations and just how fucked everything already was by this point. I'm a pretty character-driven reader so that's what sticks with me for the most part

- obi-wan’s big teenage rebellion here being that sometimes. Occasionally. When he really loses his temper and gets hot under the collar. He’ll say something slightly passive aggressive out loud instead of keeping it contained inside his head. And qui-gon still can’t handle that gracefully AT ALL he snaps right back fdjskfhas. (I guess he also snitches on qui-gon to the council but well, you know, qui-gon was breaking republic law pretty brazenly at that point I think that moves beyond teenage angst and into ‘...master that’s a wholeass felony’ territory). Obi-Wan does go for a couple of low blows, but like. Nothing that’s not actually true, is the thing. And mostly he blames himself for not being good enough, because surely if he were qui gon wouldn’t treat him like this. Augh. hngh. Pain. suffering. 

- I am not one of the people who think everything would have automatically been just hunky-dory if only qui-gon lived and could have been anakin's master (in fact I would have given it a 50/50 chance of going exponentially worse way faster; being more similar as people is not always a guarantee that a relationship will go smoother and qui-gon is an incredibly difficult man to be close to for any length of time), but the way this book basically presents how the dynamic between dooku, rael and qui-gon could have gone on in the next generation too... it would have been incredibly unfair to obi-wan (as always I think that's just an universal constant lmao) but I think the odds of it turning out okay would have been better if you had him in the mix to run crisis control for both qui-gon and anakin, as he does for each of them individually as best he can anyway. at least he could have been free to be anakin's brother and friend purely in that scenario, without all the added mess of grief and having to take on a parental role there so young. he does basically fill that role in ahsoka's apprenticeship, after all.

- qui-gon finally hugging rael before he leaves the planet (and especially since when they were younger he wanted to, but held himself back from it)... that's still his big brother even with all the shit that's happened since ;_____; when someone teaches you how to swim (literally and symbolically) that shit stays with you I suppose

Relatedly: DOOKU getting hugged, and gladly. What the fuck. Are you all seeing this shit. I’m gonna cry or laugh I’m not sure which one why am I emotionally invested in the galaxy's most problematic grandpa now this sucks

[skrimbled]

In the EPIC fandom i've seen a lot of role swaps, but all the ones i've seen are just [insert character here] with the role and personality of whoever they swapped with. There's nothing wrong with that, but i would lile to propose my own role swap:

(spoilers included for the Thunder Saga, but also it's a retelling of all the events so y'know there will be spoilers lol)

Polites takes Odysseus' role. I don't know if he has a wife or kids to want to see, but i can assume he probably does. Polites is the kind and charismatic leader of the crew, keeping his men alive by knowing when to fight vs when to not.

Odysseus takes Eurylochus' role. He's the second in command for his intelligence and planning. He's the one Polites turns to when planning attacks or actions.

Eurylochus takes Polites' role. He's the foil to Polites. When Polites is getting too into the whole 'open arms' deal, his friend Eurylochus is the one who grounds him. His ruthlessness and bluntness keeps Polites from being too reckless and passive.

I'm thinking that the dynamic is characterised as Polites wanting to find peaceful solutions to their problems, Odysseus being skeptical because the lask of strategy or caution is a bad idea, and Eurylochus outright telling him not to be an idiot. He's very open to trusting the Lotus Eaters, and the other two go along with it for the sole reason of them needing food.

With Polyphemus, he tried to be peaceful and reasonable, and even introduced himself with his name to build trust, but it didn't work. Eury died, and Polites wasn't used to losing men to war. In his shock, he lost control of his men, and more died before Polyphemus passed out from the lotus Odysseus snuck into the wine behind Polites' back. It's Polites' idea to not kill the cyclops as they need him to open the cave, and the crew narrowly escape when Polyphemus calls out Polites as being the one to blind him.

With Aeolus, Polites puts a oot of faith in Aeolus, no longer having Eurylochus to balance his reckless optimism. Ody is VERY hesitant to trust a fucking god, since they're unpredictable, but Polites reassures him and Ody hesitantly lets him go. When they get the wind bag, Polites trusts Ody to keep it closed. But Ody doesn't trust this god, and doesn't trust the bag, so he opens it to make sure it's safe. This sends them back to Poseidon. Polites desperately tries to apologise for Polyphemus, saying it was his idea to keep him alive so he could live, but Poseidon tells him that ruthlessness is mercy. Polyphemus now has to live a life of misery where he will never be the same. Killing him would have been merciful on him.

Polites uses the wind bag to get to Circe, and practically begs Odysseus to find a safe place to stay while they recoup, having a crisis. When Ody comes back and tells him about Circe, Polites is pretty much desperate for his open arms mentality to helo them, so refuses to leave without asking for their men back. Ody offers to go with him for safety, but Polites tells him to stay back and prepare the men to leave. He takes the Molly from Hermes, but intends on only using it for self defence. Circe is hesitant to trust him, but Polites is desperate and genuine, recounting their journey in an attempt to persuade her to help them. Circe takes pity on him, hearing that he only wants to go home, and points him to the underworld. Odysseus is stunned and a little impressed, starting to be convinced that maybe Polites is onto something with his kindness.

In the Underworld, Polites is faced by all the people he failed. Inclufing his dear friend Eurylochus. Seeing Eury and remembering how he got him killed, Polites is at an all time low. Then he hears of his future from Tiresias, and he's horrified. He doesn't want to take his final breath and die. He thinks back to his journey so far and realises that all their misfortune stwms from his kindness. So he vows to change. To become the very monster he didn't want to be.

He continues to appear kind and optimistic, using his charm to gain directions from the sirens before capturing them. He doesn't want to go through Scylla and tries to find a better route, but there is none. He declares to his men that he wants to protect future sailors from harm, but that he's learned from Poseidon and Polyphemus. He orders his men to kill the sirens and toss them overboard, planning for how to tackle Scylla.

With Scylla, the only solution he can think of is to let six men die, so he doesn't tell anyone where they're sailing until it's too late. Scylla takes six men, and Polites simply cobers his ears and closes his eyes, tuning the screams out. Odysseus, who was just starting to believe in Polites' ideals and be a better kinder person, realised that Polites knew what would happen and was stunned. He mentioned that they could have used the sirens as bait, or not gone through Scylla at all, and asked why Polites would sacrifice the men he was taling home. He asked if the monsters they were fighting meant more to Polites than his own men. Polites didn't have an answer.

I don't know how Thunder Bringer or the latter end of Mutiny would go, but yeah! That's my EPIC role swap! :]

[heian-era-housewife]

Synopsis | You just want to be "normal". Is that too much to ask? A trip to Walmart with Sukuna may be just what you need to remind you that being normal is overrated.

Content | g/n!reader x true form sukuna, fluff, crack, agoraphobia, social phobia, mention of self loathing, mental health *or lack thereof*

A/N | If you're new here, Hi! I'm Yuri and I live with agoraphobia. Fittingly, the roots of this word are "market place" and "fear", but really it is a social phobia based around leaving one's house or being in public/crowded places. As with any mental health issue, it takes many forms.

Anyway, this is an oddly specific and very much self indulgent drabble based on pretty much every experience I've ever had with Walmart. Including today.

Hope you enjoy!

"I still don't understand why you're making me do this." Sukuna said, head leaning on the glass of the passenger-side window of your car where he sat, all four arms crossed in visible annoyance.

"We need groceries 'Kuna." You remind him. "And please put your seatbelt back on."

He rolled his eyes with a scowl. Pulling enough slack from the belt to stretch across his broad chest, he struggled for several seconds to find the buckle hiding under his beefy thigh. 

"This is stupid. I told you Uraume can go to the market for us."

"And I told you that I wanted to try being a normal human being for once." You retort.

"Hmph." He pouted. "I fail to see how a- what did you call it?"

"A 'Walmart Run'?"

"I fail to see how a run to 'Walmart' makes one a 'normal human'." 

"'Kuna, you know how bad my anxiety is. I love that Uraume does so much for us, but I'm afraid if I never step out of my box again, I'll regress and turn into some sort of shut-in. I just want to be normal. I want to be like everyone else. Y'know?"

In place of an answer, he gestured sarcastically to his own mutated form. His four eyes blinking in stone-cold irony.

"Okay, okay." You conceded. "You know what I mean."

It had been a while since you'd gone anywhere. Your needs were always provided for in Sukuna's estate, and whatever he didn't have, he sent Uraume to get. As an agoraphobe, this life suited you perfectly. But there was still a piece of you that craved that social ingredient that made you feel less broken, even if it did fill you with dread. 

The trip started out okay. You grabbed a cart and skirted the outer aisles, avoiding the ones where employees were stocking shelves or people bustled about for more popular items. 

As time went on, however, your chest grew tighter, the sounds grew louder, and your personal bubble was at risk of popping.

Suddenly, the simple act of reaching for milk became a tunnel-vision inducing nightmare of shifting carts and bumping elbows all to the backdrop of a small child wailing somewhere nearby. 

You were frozen. Caught in the mayhem. Were you holding your breath or hyperventilating? You didn't even know. Why were you so bad at this? How did this come so easy to other people? And what were you even trying to grab? Was it milk? It must have been milk? Or maybe it was something else and if it was milk was it 2% or maybe whole and why was that child still screaming can't someone do something about that? wasn't anyone else feeling nauseated? and when did it get so hot were the aisles always this narrow?OhGodWhyDidIComeHereAtAll? thiswasaterribleidea?¿?¿? jfhjfs#$&*

Sukuna reached over you, grabbing the milk and throwing it in the cart before swooping his arms around your shoulders and waist, guiding you toward the front of the store.

"Come on, kid." He said in a low grumble. "I think you've had enough. Let's get out of here."

Numb legs carry you forward as you trudge your way toward the self-checkout. You stare blankly in a dissociative state while Sukuna scans the groceries by himself, large hands and fingers fumbling through the prompts on the small touch screen.

Useless. You're so useless. You think to yourself. Can't you do anything? Why are you so weird? So...broken?

"I'm so...weak..." You mumble feebly.

"Come again?" Sukuna grunts with his broad back to you, shoving crumpled bills unsuccessfully into the beeping machine.

"I said you must think I'm so weak." You say, louder this time, bitter tears forming on the rim of your lashes.

"Don't be foolish!" He says. "Of course I think you're weak! You're the weakest human I know!"

You look at him wide-eyed, momentarily pulled from your self-loathing by the shock of his admission. 

"Look at you!" He says, turning around to face you. "You can't even go to the grocery store without having a problem for, God's sake. This is exactly why you need me!"

His words fell heavy on your shoulders. Weighing you down. Making you small. Sure, nothing he said was untrue. But to hear it out loud-

"But you're also the kindest human I know." He continued softly. "You feel more deeply. You never stop trying. You're strong where it counts. You taught me love. You take me to ridiculous places. So yeah. Sure. You're scared of things that don't bother 'normal people'. But where the rest of the world looks upon the King of Curses with nothing but fear and loathing, you look upon me with love and compassion, never once bothered that I wasn't a 'normal person'." 

The tears began to flow. Sukuna took your face in his hands, calloused thumbs gently rubbing them from your cheeks. "And that- that is why I need you." 

A chorus of soft "awwws" came from the other nearby shoppers who had gathered to hear the disfigured man's booming monologue. Cottontop grandmas dabbed at their eyes, while the balding clerk overseeing self-checkout stood from his three-legged stool with a slow, appreciative clap. 

Sukuna's face fell flat with an unamused sigh. "Now can we get out of Walmart before I feel the need to burn the place down?"

That got you to smile. "Sure thing, King."

Bonus Track

On the way back to the car, Sukuna had some Thoughts™️ to share about his first ever trip to Walmart:

-So that was it, huh? I can see why you wouldn't like going there.

-I'd never want to leave my house either if I had to acquire sustenance from a place like that.

-And did you see some of the freaks??

-No, really! You think I'm bad? You could fill the entire internet with the amount of WEIRDOS I saw in there.

-Trust me, there was not one "normal human" in there.

-And why do we call it a "Walmart Run"? The only running I wanted to do was to get out of there.

-Oh! Is that why?

-Heck, you know what, Imma burn it down.