#maybe its just not meant to go together which ironically is kinda the point anyway its about them splitting ways

[hjeojeo]

Hehe //rubs my little hands together like a mosquito

I wrote a little thing about lappland that I'm gonna make a little comic out of (bc writing's hard and I wanna back it up with visuals so that it makes sense what I'm trying say)

Gonna try to chip away at it next few days and hopefully finish it before my work break ends on Monday +0+

[junicai]

Aria + Periods + 127 = Chaos

Taeil

taeil has a younger sister, so he didn’t need her to explain anything to her

honestly, he’s one of the members she’ll go to first if she needs anything

the least likely to make a big deal out of it

just kinda

shrugs

and does what is needed of him

sometimes pain meds don’t do anything for aria’s cramps they get so bad

and on those days, she’ll slid into his bed and either

A: snuggle with him and let him cuddle her

or B: just curl up underneath his sheets until he gets back from wherever he was and then do option A

he really hates her periods

like, more than she does

because she’s always a little deflated in the upcoming days, and for the first two of the actual periods

and he hates seeing her in pain or be sad

even if the thing she’s sad at is the advertisement of the cute dog

definitely chuckles at her when she comes to him with slightly teary eyes and whines that she misses her dog now

but opens his arms willingly anyway, letting his maknae plonk herself in his lap and rest her head on his chest

Johnny

there is no better man to try and make aria feel better

that’s actually a lie

aria will point blank avoid him on her periods

he read once

once

in an article that physical exercise helps with cramps and the other pms-ing symptoms

and now every single time she opens her mouth to complain about her uterus trying to eject itself from her body

johnny’s right there with an invitation to the gym

he’s literally packed and changed, they can go right now

truth be told aria took him up on the offer once

never again

she couldn’t walk afterwards

he had to carry her out

asides from that though

he’s pretty okay with everything?

like obviously, he doesn’t really get it all too much, but if she wants someone to massage her back, then he’ll offer without too many questions

but when she’s crying about something?

oh ho ho ho

bear hugs

just a big ol’ swaddling hug that makes aria feel warm n safe n content

they heal everything

it’s aria’s life philosophy

Taeyong

totally understanding

she needs pads? he’s either already bought them, or will go out to buy them for her

doesn’t have a tracker for her, but somehow knows when she’s cramping the week before its due

once came up with the innovative idea of using their handwarmers as a makeshift hot water bottle when they were on a schedule and aria was suffering :(

aria gets really bad lower back cramps, and its super common to just see him gently pushing her onto the couch

so he can try and massage some of the tension

keeps pads in his travelling bags

completely unprompted - it just started being something he’d pack

like heat packs and pain patches and bandages;

period supplies just eventually got added to the list

was a little uncomfy with the whole thing at the start

but his older sister yelled at him

told him to stop “being a baby” and “she’s your responsibility, act like it.”

aria felt really bad for burdening him with it all

lowkey wished she was a boy for inconveniencing everyone with it

and taeyong had to sit her down and tell her no baby

it was natural and it didn’t bother anybody

that she didn’t have to hide it

that she could come to them if she was in pain because of it

Yuta

oh this man

when he found out that aria was getting lightheaded on her periods

when he found out that she passed out once on her period

did so much research on why that might have happened and how to help

literally stayed up all night and came to aria the next morning like

“are you eating enough iron?”

the answer was no, btw

made it his mission to make sure aria did after that

always has a little bag of nuts or something else in a side pocket of his bag if he knows aria’s on her period

gets concerned asf when she misses her periods

because he knows it’s because of unnecessary diets or her putting in extra time in the practice room

aria loves going to his room when she’s feeling miserable

he’s always down to watch a movie or just lay down with her

he’ll plait her hair or just lay together and press a lil kiss to her forehead when she whines about the cramps

hates hates hates when she cries

he knows it’s because of hormones, he has two sisters

but that doesn’t make it easier

will do absolutely anything to get her to stop crying

once went out at 3am to get her ice-cream

which actually made her cry harder

bc she felt bad that she couldn’t eat it because she’s lactose-intolerant

he just felt worse

that was not a good night

now the freezer in the dorms has a little tub of non-dairy ice-cream with aria’s name on it

curtesy of yuta

Doyoung

when aria first moved into the 127 dorms

he bought a little pink box with a lid that he then proceeded to fill with tampons and pads; the whole shebang

which he then put in the locker beneath the sink

and told anyone that if they made a big deal out if it, he’d kill them :)

incredibly perceptive

knows when aria’s on her period before aria knows

“hey do u need a pad?” “ why do i need a pad?”

*an hour later*

“oppa do u have any pads”

he’s less of a come here and i’ll comfort you type

and more of a, i’m going to help you from the sidelines without ever actually acknowledging it’s existence

like perceiving it makes it worse

honestly aria’s pretty thankful he’s like this

she loves that the other members take care of her like they do, don’t get her wrong

but its like, for five days - she can do no wrong, she’s accommodated, and sometimes walked on eggshells around

it’s nice to have someone who’s going to treat her like normal

to balance it out

does that stop her pulling the “i’m in pain” card when she’s about to get scolded?

no

Jaehyun

jaehyun doesn’t have any siblings, so he was really learning from scratch with aria

however

that was actually a good thing

because it meant that whatever aria told him; he did

if she needed a heating pack - he’d go find one for her

if she needed to just lie down for a bit - he’d take her into her room and close the curtains to let her take a nap

now, she didn’t take advantage of this

much

but she just thought it was really sweet of him

and tells him as much

and every time, he’ll just pat her head

maybe a lil kiss on the forehead

and pull the blanket up to her chin before leaving and flicking off the lights

that’s kind of the extent of what he’ll do

mainly because the other members have a lot of it covered already

but it’s pretty common for him to give her a piggyback ride somewhere

if her back is cramping a lot and she doesn’t/can’t walk

no complaints

he just kneels down and aria asks him is he sure

like she’s heavy or something

and he’ll just carry her to wherever they’re going

there’s a lot of fantaken pictures from these moments

people speculate that she’s injured or sick

it happens so regularly that nctzens are genuinely convinced that aria just doesn’t possess an immune system

Jungwoo

jungwoo was surprisingly well prepared when aria first bent over from a sudden onset of cramps

man was ready and knew what to do

he had hyuck going out of the room for water

and had a hand placed on her lower back rubbing gently

never really makes a big deal out of it all

although has told her to play it up once or twice because he wanted to go to bed and practice was running late

she did, and they did end practice almost immediately after

honestly, aria’s pretty convinced that all of jungwoo’s information on how to deal with girls on their periods came from a wikihow article

but that did mean that he had taken the time to look up a wikihow article

so she guesses she can forgive him

and honestly, the fact that he takes it upon himself to do a little of her chores?

she’s not complaining

after the first three times she felt bad enough to tell him to stop though

he didn’t

and now it’s just normal

is very conversational about it all

has no problem with asking her what she needs, instead of hovering around and guessing

which makes it easier on aria as well

the first few times, she felt quite burdensome

and jungwoo levelled her with a look when she told him this

“the only way you’d be burdensome, is if you didn’t talk to the rest of us and suffered silently - in pain.”

that was the end of that really

Mark

unfortunately for mark

aria got her first period when she was with him

poor boy thought she was going to die

“ohmygod you’re bleeding - you’re BLEEDING-”

aria had to calm him down before going to the bathroom

he is pretty oblivious as to what exactly goes on

aria complained once that she missed her last two periods because of the stupid diet she was on

mark literally thought she was going to die

very concerned

she had to sit him down and tell him that no, she wasn’t going to die  

he’s gotten better over the years

as a topic, he’s still pretty uncomfortable with discussing it

but its less of a “i’m a man and this isn’t a manly topic” and more of a “i don’t know anything about this subject and i don’t want to offend somebody, help”

he did by her her first hot water bottle cover though

up until then, she had been using hot water bottles wrapped in towels to prevent her skin from burning

but mark showed up one morning

with a yellow fuzzy thing hidden behind her back

it was a winnie the pooh cover :(

Donghyuck

cuddle buddies

that’s his main role

aria on her period? donghyuck’s pulling out the fluffy blankets and making a pile of her plushies on his bed

time to pull out netflix and cuddle

aria could cry every single time she walks into his room and he’s just opening the covers for her to slip underneath

he does it every time

and somehow she’s still not expecting it

it’s been five years bestie

has accidentally made her cry on more than once occasion though

he doesn’t mean to!

sometimes he’ll say something in passing

and aria will get upset but won’t show it

because she knows she’s not actually upset - it’s just hormones

so she doesn’t tell him she’s upset

and just leaves to go to her own room

does that stop doyoung telling hyuck off for being insensitive?

no

not at all

but he’s normally really good! especially after the first few times

living together has generally made him more preceptive

also just growing up in general

if her cramps are really bad she’ll wake up during the night

and if she had slept in hyuck’s bed the night before

then he usually takes it upon himself to go get her pain meds and a hot water bottle

he’ll rub her back and help her fall back asleep

and then he’ll make sure to write down in his phone that she took x brand of pain meds, so in the morning she’ll have to take y instead

[thepartyresponsible]

this soundtrack fill is for kittenlzlz, who i cannot tag because it’s all sabotage all the time over here. also, i'm sorry, i didn’t realize you’d changed your prompt until after i wrote this one, so this is for the first thing you sent in.

anyway, here’s some dystopian sci-fi angst for sam and bucky with a hopeful ending. the song for this one is “achilles come down” by gang of youth.

                                                         —

When he was young, Sam spent thirty-seven weeks in New Mexico, learning how to keep people alive until evac. That others may live was a motto they preferred to operationalize rather than idealize, and, without the EMT training, pararescue tended to turn into high-risk body retrieval. So he spent the better part of a year learning how to keep a body breathing, and he learned, also, how to recognize when any effort was likely to be wasted.

Which is how he knows that what he’s looking at isn’t fully human. Because a human would already be dead.

It’s the blood that tells him, more than anything else. The Chitauri bleed a thick, dark blue substance that goes black if their cybernetics are leaking. And there’s plenty of blue and black puddled on the asphalt, but that red is a hemoglobin gift, and that means it’s all human.

“Shit, man,” Sam says, crouching next to the only human at this massacre. “You could keep a blood bank in business all by yourself.”

The man lifts his head and blinks at him, slow and a little dazed. Not dazed enough, though. He can almost focus on Sam’s face. “Not anymore,” he says, after a beat.

More blood bubbles up at the corners of his mouth. Sam can see it between his teeth.

“Yeah,” Sam says. And he laughs, because he might as well. Because he came out here with a team of ten to clean out the aliens, and it looks like one guy did their work for them. “Guess not.”

He’s a pathetic sight, really. Ragged body armor, hair clumped together, skin sticky with blood and ichor. He’s belly down on the cracked parking lot, and there’s a smear of blood behind him, showing exactly how far he’s managed to drag himself.

Sam’s not excited about what he’s going to see, when he rolls this guy over on his back.

“You gonna fight me if I help you?” he asks.

Most of them, these Enhanced, the surviving Super Soldiers, they can’t help it. Sam’s had to put a few down himself, although not for a while now. It’s been almost a year since he had to kill anything with a human face.

The man sighs. He rests his forehead against the asphalt, closes his eyes. His fingers flex and then go still. “I don’t know,” he says.

That others may live, Sam thinks. But the problem has always been that lives are balanced on both sides of the scales, and, sometimes, saving one means sacrificing another.

This man killed fifteen Chitauri, and he did it alone. There are kids back at the base. Vulnerable people.

The safest choice would be to leave him here. Let him save himself, if he can. But Sam’s never really been the safe choice type.

“Okay,” he says, hands curling around his shoulders, carefully rolling the man over on his back, “let’s see the damage.”

It’s enough to kill a human. But that’s not really what he’s dealing with.

                                                           —    

The Super Soldiers were a desperation play. Sam was supposed to be one of them. The best of Earth’s fighters, dosed with serum, patched up with cybernetics based on Chitauri tech, sent out to face the enemies that had invaded the planet.

Sam’s still not sure exactly how it happened, what level of their defenses failed. He only knows failure by its consequences.

The neural implants were hacked. The soldiers turned against their people. Sam, who’d been four days out from his own procedure, was shifted to a team tasked with hunting them down and eliminating them.

These days, there aren’t many left. There’s not much of anyone left. The Chitauri fundamentally misunderstood their target. Sam could’ve warned them. The species of mutually assured destruction was never going to die quiet.

He thinks about that while the Soldier sleeps, chained to a bed in a locked basement in an abandoned building two miles from the base. Sam keeps watch. He has a radio in case anything goes wrong, but he doesn’t intend to use it for anything other than warning them what’s coming.

“I could’ve been you,” Sam tells him. And then, smiling at nothing, shaking his head, “Hell, you could’ve been me.”

He wonders where he’s from. He wonders what his name is.

He wonders, when he can’t help it, what he did. If he ever killed anyone Sam used to know.

                                                           —    

The Soldier sleeps for forty hours and then sits straight up in bed, rips the chains off his wrists like they’re pipe cleaners, and then turns to face Sam. “What the hell,” he says.

“Oh, well,” Sam says, too startled to be afraid. “Didn’t want anyone stealing you.”

The Soldiers makes a face at him, an incredulous sneer that twists up his mouth and pulls his dark eyebrows together, and he looks so human, so perfectly skeptical, that Sam starts laughing.

“Well,” he says, with a shrug, “you killed fifteen aliens with a tire iron. You’re a treasure.”

“And I want it back.” he says, immediately. “Where’s my tire iron?”

“Confiscated,” Sam says.

He glares, and Sam‘s probably meant to be intimidated, but he knows – they both know – that, if this guy wanted to scare Sam, he could just start breaking bones. Or walls. “I want it back when I leave.”

“Leave,” Sam repeats. He kicks back in his chair, balances on the back legs as he swings his feet up onto the Soldier’s bed. “Why’re you leaving?”

The Soldier stares at Sam’s booted feet near his knees. “Usually it’s the fact that I’m a timebomb that chases me off,” he says, “but it looks like your manners are the real horrorshow around here.”

Sam grins at him. He’s merciless about it, uses the most charming smile in his arsenal. He expects the guy to soften a bit, but he’s not expecting the doubletake he gets, the there-and-away bounce of his stare, like Sam’s suddenly something he wants to look at but doesn’t want to get caught looking at.

Huh, he thinks.

“When’s the last time you hurt someone?” Sam asks.

The Soldier’s face crumples up and then flattens out. “What is this? Some kinda trial? An interrogation?”

“If this were an interrogation, I wouldn’t’ve given you the soft pillows,” Sam tells him.

The Soldier doesn’t look like he buys it. But, after a moment, he tips his head to the side. “Probably wouldn’t want to get blood on these white sheets,” he acknowledges.

“Christ,” Sam says, because that more or less seems to be the only thing he could possibly say to something like that.

The Soldier shrugs. He brushes his hair away from his face, blinks, and gives Sam a skeptical sideways stare. “Did you wash my hair?”

“With a firehose,” Sam confirms. “Damn near shaved the whole thing off. You were a mess, man.”

He shrugs. “It’s messy work.”

And, sure, it is. Sam knows. His base is the first resettlement outpost in this region. They’ve been clearing Chitauri out of the area for months.

But he still takes a damn shower whenever possible.

“Who were you?” Sam asks. “Before the program?”

The Soldier looks away. Looks at nothing. After a long pause, he recites, careful and rote, “Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes. 107th.”

“Okay,” Sam says. “James. When’s the last time you hurt a human being?”

He worries at his lower lip, teeth pressing into the skin. He’s quiet for a very long time. “Thirteen months, ten days,” he says, finally.

Sam considers the timeline. “You think it’s over?”

“I think the implant’s in my fucking brain,” he says. “It’ll be over at brain death.”

“It’s just a chip,” Sam says. “It’s not sentient. Someone’s gotta send the message, right?”

The Soldier’s jaw works. “Even if the aliens stay out, there’s gonna be plenty of people who want to use someone like me, as soon as they rebuild enough to manage.”

It’s a hell of thing, and it could’ve been Sam.

He nudges the Soldier’s knee with his boot, and the Soldier stares at the point of contact. He doesn’t look angry anymore. If Sam had to use a word to describe the expression on the Soldier’s face, he thinks he’d use something bittersweet and barbed, something like lonely or longing.

“Gonna be a long damn time before anyone’s rebuilt,” he says.

“Aliens could have reinforcements here at any time,” the Soldier says.

“Maybe,” Sam says, although he thinks they might’ve learned some kind of lesson. At the very least, they’ve probably learned that it’s just not worth the effort.

“Look,” Sam says. “I think you should come back to the base.”

“No,” he says. Immediate and definite, louder then he’s been so far.

Sam expected it. Maybe part of him hoped for it. “Okay,” he says. “Then we’ll stay here. And, when you’re better, I want you to take a radio. And I want you to check in with us. All right? Every day.”

The Soldier stares at him. “Why the hell would you want that?”

Sam smiles, studies the hollows of the Soldier’s face, the scars, the freckles he must’ve earned when he was young, used to play too long in the sun. He has, Sam thinks, beautiful eyes. “There’s not a lot of us left,” he says.

“‘Us,’” the Soldier repeats, scoffing audibly.

“Us,” Sam repeats. He nudges the Soldier’s knee again, and the Soldier cuts his eyes away, glares at the wall. But, a moment later, he shifts, leans his knee into Sam.

                                                         —      

His name is Bucky Barnes. He’s fussy as hell, stubborn beyond belief, helpful every chance he can get, and fond of cats and songbirds. He doesn’t cheat at cards, and he doesn’t accuse Sam of it either, even when Sam beats him damn near every hand.

He’s a good man. Even now.

“I’m gonna miss you,” Sam says. Because it’s been two weeks, and Bucky’s decided he’s well enough to go.

Bucky ducks his head. “Shut up,” he says.

Sam wonders if he was always this head shy about affection.

“C’mere,” he says. “I’ll give you a goodbye kiss.”

“Shut up,” Bucky says, practically scuttling away, head still ducked. When he raises it, he’s grinning one of his ghost grins, the ones that almost show who he used to be, like a faint echo of a louder, happier man.

“Okay,” Sam says. “But if I don’t get a goodbye kiss, I’m definitely not gonna talk dirty to you on that radio. You gotta put in the work, Bucky.”

“I hate you,” Bucky tells him, and his crush couldn’t be more obvious. Sam would be embarrassed for him, if he weren’t busy being charmed.

“Yeah, yeah,” Sam says. “Check in every day, or I’m gonna track you down.”

“Hm,” Bucky says. He adjusts his pack on his shoulders. He’s got that tire iron, an alarming number of knives, and two guns. He’s setting off to kill more aliens. He’s going alone. “That supposed to be a threat?”

He was a Barnes in the Army and Sam was a Wilson in the Air Force, and so Bucky is a Super Soldier and Sam is not. It’s unpredictable, sometimes, the way mercy falls.

“Be careful out there,” Sam says, and he knocks his elbow against Bucky’s.

“Yeah,” Bucky says. He rolls his eyes and then catches Sam watching, and he blinks, falters. “Yeah,” he says, again. Softer, steadier. A promise, not a joke.

Sam considers him, lets the moment hang. Waits. Sometimes, all Bucky needs is the space and time to make up his own mind.

“I’m gonna miss you, too,” Bucky says.

“There it is,” Sam says, grinning, almost crowing in triumphant. “There--”

“Oh, Jesus,” Bucky says, rolling his eyes again, getting theatrical about it. “I already regret saying it.”

“Can’t take it back,” Sam taunts, grinning wide and smug.

“I’m going,” Bucky says, and he starts off, doesn’t look back.

“Hey, Buck,” Sam calls, when Bucky’s just about to break through the treeline, disappear into the woods. “I hate to see you go, but I love----”

“Fuck off, Sam!” Bucky says, but he’s laughing, and Sam can still hear it – surprised and happy, fully human – even after Bucky disappears.

[ignitification]

It’s me the Shigaraki survivalist again lol

It’s cool you don’t agree I guess I just want to get my thoughts out

You said it’s unrealistic for Deku to save Shigaraki and them to work together—but the way I see it is that’s exactly what the story has been building up to. In a world where nothing is really “unrealistic” I really truly think it’s very in the realm of where the story is going. Shigaraki does look tired, because he has never been given a break. The thing is, BNHA isn’t a tragedy! (I think Hawks’s arc will be a tragedy but that’s a whole different discussion)

I just cannot see how Deku will be crowned “the greatest hero who ever lived” meanwhile the one person who needed him most is lying there dead. It just doesn’t feel convincing, especially in a shonen story. As far as the story is concerned, Shigaraki is still a child and never had a chance to grow up (it’s a coming of age story for Deku and Shigaraki). And you can’t celebrate being the greatest hero who ever lived while a “child” is dead. And I 100% expect Shigaraki and Touya to be very difficult to save (kinda like Kota from the training camp arc, but Deku saved him didn’t he?)—they’re gonna decline the help at first obviously. They have no reason to trust heroes, which is why I think Deku and Shoto are going to have to prove that they mean it—and they will, because they do.

I just feel like Shigaraki dying completely cancels out Deku’s main goal of “saving everybody”—which has been his thing since the beginning. Shigaraki was, in the eyes of the narrative, All Might’s responsibility to save, and he failed. Not only is Deku going to have to clean up the OFA/AFO mess, he’s gonna have to clean up the mess that All Might could have prevented (I’m not blaming All Might completely but as far as the story is concerned, and All Might is concerned—he definitely bares some responsibility for Tenko’s fate).

It’s as you said we don’t know what Horikoshi is going to do, but a girl can hope lol

I just don’t feel like the story is going to end with the message of “not everybody can be saved”. I just feel that there is so much more hope in this story than people give it credit for! Shonen typically reeks of hope and optimism, and even now BNHA still has that hopeful, optimistic energy, not grimdark realism. I think Horikoshi will pull this off and it’s gonna be awesome. And if you are right and Shigaraki does die, I honestly will consider it a huge waste of a character who could have and should have been saved, just like Touya, who I also think is 100% going to make it out alive.

Hey, Shigaraki Survivalist!

Glad you’re putting you opinion out here. 

Getting onto matters, I would like to maybe clarify my statement: I do not think it is unrealistic for Shigaraki and Deku to work together (I think rather that it would be absolutely fair, and maybe cathartic) and I do agree that is what is likely to happen, sooner or later. 

As for BNHA not being a tragedy, I think that it already is. Look at how Touya, Shigaraki and the same Izuku grew up: discriminated against, bullied, neglected and abused. If this is not a tragedy, I do not know what is. But if by that you meant that the general mood of the story is supposed to be one of instilling hope and instead letting people know that there is always a way one, and that there is still some possibility of saving if there is a will. I fully agree on that. The themes in BNHA are the real tragedy, but you are absolutely right when you say that the message is ‘People make mistakes. But that’s not the end. They can change and correct those mistakes, apologise, amend. Things can change.’ and not ‘Not everyone can be saved’ (even if, here, I would like to argue that Twice’s death message is exactly that but I don’t want to digress).

Also, not going to lie, I really like the positivity I feel from your message. It puts a smile on my face thinking that there is someone out there fully believing that salvation will come because there is someone who wants it to come. It’s a good thing. It’s a thing I, for one, do not have so thank you for doing that, this really brightened my evening. 

Now, onto a more heavy part of the post. I wanted to talk about All Might, and how he did fail, even if not entirely by himself, to save Shigaraki. First of all, I would like to notice the particular panel which tells us that ‘You can save only those you can reach’. 

This panel is telling in more ways than one. All Might specifically addresses Izuku in saying this, while not literally meaning it (or at least not expecting Izuku to understand it so literally). All Might ( and I talked about it here) is a character which sets up the bar high for Hero standards (and is seen as an idol so far gone, that no one could ever possibly reach him) - and that is exactly why Izuku bears this 'lesson' stoically and tries to save everyone ever more than before. Because if All Might could do it, Izuku feels like he should be able as well (while not considering the disproportion in between them, and I mean in experience and just relatively emotionally).

I mean Izuku feels a high burden with OfA, and to deal with AfO, and sometimes he can get very much extreme - but exactly for that, as you said, he would never feel as if he succeeded if he does not manage to save Shigaraki. Because if All Might is capable of brushing this aside, justifying himself by saying that he couldn't have done anything to prevent it and that it is impossible after all to save everyone, Izuku is not. Izuku feel so deeply that he cries for others, he rages for others, he longs for others with a great smile on his face because that is what it's expected of him.

And he likes to fulfil those expectation, whether that kills him, injuries him or anything else (as we saw him being all bandaged up in 299 and with no sign to recover any soon). 

However, this what I mean when I say that Tomura looks tired: 

He fails to understand how him not being saved is not actually a fault of someone (heroes/society, you name it - even if he does realise much later), but his first instinct as a kid is to blame himself and to tell that this, is is his punishment. He deserved it. And he does deserve to a degree what has happened to him since, because he is guilty of something he will never be able to forgive himself for and that is why he is they he is now.

I do think, that Touya, even being more self-destructive than Shigaraki, is an easier subject to save. I am not saying this because I think Dabi’s trauma or problems are easier to solve, but because Shouto understood him (to some extent) and with the sentence ‘I am him? referring to Touya and his intentions he is unwillingly showing us that Touya’s path to redemption (summed with Endeavour’s arc) are all pointing at Touya being saved, no matter how bad the situation gets. He, still scarred and lonely, does have a family out there caring for him. Or at least wanting to get to the bottom of things and not leave him to burn to death, alone. Again.

Shigaraki, on the other hand, does not have such a thing. Kurogiri has been captured, AfO is using him and the only guy who thought of Tomura as a human being, other than a bad villain, is Deku. I do not want say that this is not enough, but with all the burden that Izuku is already carrying at the moment, can he also bear on himself the weight of saving Shigaraki? I really hope he does, but as anyway as it will be, I think that Deku will try. He will try to get that hand reaching out to Tomura and even if skeptical about it, I hope Shigaraki takes the chance and takes it. He does deserve a break. He deserves a blanket, a cup of steaming tea and a hot long nap in a warm bed. A hug is optional. 

One of the themes I never touched upon is also, the found family of the League and Hawks. I really am waiting for more insight into the League’s members feeling for Twice, and maybe holding a funeral. I am also waiting for them to discuss Hawks. 

On which, my last point for this post: Hawks’ story, serves as a parallel to Dabi’s. We see how the abuse can bring to two extremes: one becoming a villain and focusing on hate, and the other focusing on idolising and becoming a hero (and in the meantime trying to forget everything else). I want Hawks to face consequences for his actions, and I want him to understand that he, too, is a victim and that atoning for his father’s crimes is not the way to go. He also needs to break free of the past and let go. I really hope that instead of clinging into past ideals and Endeavour, he realises that there is something highly wrong with the society he is fundamental part of and that he break free. If he doesn’t, as has been already put out there by some amazing posts I read, it will after all end in tragedy. Once a friend told me how Hawks was a tragic hero, and I might disagree but I do think that the name is fitting. But it’s not like that will change things. Only we can - and I hope everyone realises that.

-

p.s. Look at this panel, during the last moments of fight between Shigaraki and Deku.

And after that the realization of Izuku, that Shigaraki, who he does want to save is not only suffering internally, but as well externally, because of AfO and whatever is going on. Exhausted beyong recognition.

Look at Shigaraki's form. He looks like he is right about to collapse. There is a hand stretched out, in help, in resignation, in sadness, in pain. But his other hand is almost clenching, hard, noy wanting to let go. Tomura is after all trying to fight the entity within him, while also trying not to lose himself and look out for everything that might come in its way outside.

And finally, there is someone who looks through the hand on his hand, through the cracks of his identity, through every wall Tomura has put in between himself and others in order to protect them, and himself, from the absolute monster he thinks he is.

And it's, at the same time both ironic and daunting how these same words are also the works Deku speaks to Kacchan while saving him from the Sludge Villains. There is a direct parallel between Katsuki, who had hated Deku while being afraid of being inferior to him and that did not want his helo because he would feel too weak, and Shigaraki, who has no will of getting himself saved by anyone, but especially by the kid that denied him the objective of gaining OfA and defeating everything and the same kid who seems to feel something other than disgust for him. Both Katsuki and Shigaraki are opposites to Izuku.

So, if Izuku saved Kacchan, who in return saved Deku after accepting the fact that he and Izuku, are, after all, hero AND friends who care about each other, it would be nice to see where this is going to go with Tomura. And see if, maybe, just maybe, it is possible for Shigaraki to stop being Shigaraki and be Shimura Tenko instead.

[aeternallis]

Unpacking the Anti-Sessrin Argument :: Father/Daughter & Grooming

While I was watching AxelBeats’ newest video on the Sessrin discourse, it got me thinking that maybe the reason why the Anti-Sessrin argument even exists in the first place is because Rumiko Takahashi never fully defined Sessrin’s relationship. The audience had different interpretations, of course, but she never explicitly named whatever it is between them. 

It sounds like I’m just stating the obvious, but hear me out. It often baffles me whenever the antis describe Sesshoumaru as having raised, essentially “groomed” Rin for the purpose of sexual gratification. I mean—that’s pretty much the definition of “grooming,” isn’t it: to consistently lower a child’s emotional defenses and befriend them, for the purpose of sex.

But in that same vein, the anti-Sessrin argument also claims (at least most of the time) that Sesshoumaru and Rin also had a father/daughter relationship, from the context of the original show.

Which...kinda contradict each other? 😅 If one sees Sessrin’s relationship as that of a wholesome “father/daughter,” the idea of Sesshoumaru “grooming” Rin is negated, isn’t it? Because in the context of the original anime and the subsequent sequel, describing these two characters simultaneously as “father/daughter” and “an older man grooming a child” wouldn’t make any sense, considering the fact that both descriptions have virtually opposite intentions. 

It can only be one or the other.

At least in a fictional context, anyway. As I said, it’s always been difficult to pin down Sessrin’s relationship because Takahashi herself had never defined it either. Sesshoumaru’s character arc is hella subtle, considering the fact that he’s not part of the main group and at most, he is a secondary character (but one that definitely makes an impression), if not a minor antagonist in the beginning. Lol

I’ve always been of the opinion that if you’re going to define the relationship of two characters in any piece of fiction, whatever label that may be has to apply to the entire story of said characters. It would be an erroneous flaw to define the relationship of two characters as one thing based on your initial impressions, then another thing entirely just because you don’t like the trajectory of said relationship. 

I don’t mean to say that relationships are static; after all, the emotional connections between two characters are always evolving, either for better or worse. That’s what makes a story, and what allows the audience to connect with the characters. 

I only meant that the label has to be reflective of the characters’ actions. 

After all, Yashahime is considered the sequel to Inuyasha; it acts as a continuation, not a reboot or a separate story of its own. Yes, the focus has shifted to an alternative main cast, but the story is still being told within the framework of the original anime. 

Father/Daughter_________

As I said earlier, a lot of antis describe Sessrin as having a father/daughter relationship, but what specific actions did Sessrin perform in the original anime gave off that impression? 

From the beginning, Rin has never had expectations of Sesshoumaru as one would expect to have of a daughter to a father. Throughout the original anime, she fends for herself and only relies on Sesshoumaru for protection. In the context of the time period, Rin receives no form of dowry from him, she’s not used as any sort of pawn (political or otherwise) to his advantage at any time, and for the most part, has no right to whatever assets he may own as an heir (in this case, Jaken’s services and Ah-Un’s loyalty). Sesshoumaru instructs (forces) Jaken and Ah-Un to care for Rin, but I highly doubt the latter has the right to command them, were she truly perceived to be an adopted daughter to a youkai. 

For example, in episode 162 of the anime, Rin herself acknowledges that she doesn’t know what role she plays in Sesshoumaru’s life. For some context, there’s a scene in the episode where Jaken explains that in the future after the situation with Naraku is settled, Sesshoumaru will most likely build an empire. In this future empire Jaken envisions, he proclaims that he’ll be a chief minister, so Rin asks the following question:

In this scene, it clearly shows that Rin has no expectations of Sesshoumaru as one would have as a perceived daughter to a father.

Conversely, Sesshoumaru doesn’t give Rin any rights as a daughter would rightfully have from a father. Rin isn’t overprotectively cloistered away in a palace (or in Towa/Setsuna’s case, within a barrier that surrounds a beautiful forest), he does not pass on any sort of inheritance to her (unlike, once again, Towa/Setsuna’s case, in which they both inherited his powers), does not actively tell her of his singular interest in pursuing Naraku, and most of the time, remains emotionally distant from her. 

And to repeat that, emotionally distant, but it doesn’t mean that he’s not affected by her kindness. 

In the end, she’s free to roam around with him as she pleases--or leave his side, as she pleases. She doesn’t have the restrictions or expectations that would be placed upon a female of that time period; Sesshoumaru lets her live her life, as she pleases. 

Grooming  _________

On the other end of the spectrum, I ask once more: what specific actions did Sessrin perform in the original anime that gave off that impression?

And before one begins to even think about that question, please note that using the reason “in Yashahime, Sesshoumaru married Rin and they had children” as the specific action would not make any sense; this action is just an end result, but nowhere does it indicate where or how the perceived grooming took place. 

To reiterate, throughout the original anime Sesshoumaru remained emotionally distant from Rin; his main focus for most of the time was trying to take Tetsusaiga, tracking down Naraku, and/or trying to find a weapon that can match/surpass Tetsusaiga. 

Hell, even in one of their first significant moments together when he brings her back to life that first time, it wasn’t for any reason of trying to obtain sexual gratification from Rin; the audience is fully aware that he was just mostly out to test Tenseiga’s power (as Jaken himself reiterates). Mauledtodeath!Rin just happened to be there as a stroke of luck and an opportunity. 

What limited scenes they did have together were brief (not to mention that he ignored her half the time), and with hardly any insight into Sesshoumaru’s thoughts, this argument is very much a moot point. 

To be honest, the “grooming” argument IMO is actually kind of ironic, yknow? XD A lot if not most of the antis hate the Sessrin shippers because they think that we condone pedophilia and grooming...yet they were the ones to reach this conclusion on their own. They’re the ones imagining a Sesshoumaru who only had dirty thoughts towards Rin, who raised her to be his outlet for sexual gratification. Lol 

Either way, the situation is funny in that context! 

My Conclusion _________

So what does all this mean? Nothing much, only that I still don’t really understand where the father/daughter vibe and grooming thing comes from. Lol When I say I never saw those things in the original anime, I meant it. If one were to think about the context of the story and how it was portrayed, the accusations that are stacked against Sessrin are just assumptions based on one singular fact that Sesshoumaru married Rin and had children with her.

To me personally, the one label that defines the relationship between Sesshoumaru and Rin, the one that makes sense if we were to look at Inuyasha and Yashahime as a continuous narrative, is that of lord and vassal.  

In an interview with Yashahime’s staff (wonderfully translated by ayuuria here), the producer Naka Toshikazu stated that it was a challenge trying to continue Inuyasha’s story because of how Rumiko Takahashi so neatly concluded it. They only had direction to go somewhere with a new story when they realized they could make it about Sesshoumaru’s daughter. 

And it makes sense, doesn’t it? After all, the reason why they couldn’t just pursue Inukag or MiroSan’s story is because those relationships had already been defined. Both are two sets of characters who fell in love whilst they went on an adventure, and they’ve done their part to save the world. 

Would a story about Shippo or Jaken or Koga have pulled audiences as much as the main cast did? Where would the conflict come from? How could they continue the story without having to repeat the original narrative? Without having to create a new Naraku? 

It makes sense that Sesshoumaru and Rin would get together, if only because they were the one relationship that Rumiko has never defined, not in the anime nor in the manga. Zero in episode 15 of Yashahime states, “The Lord Sesshoumaru, one who is known to detest both humans and half-demons, has taken a human for a wife.” 

Just think of how bold of a story that is, one that can match the stakes of the original story, whilst still being able to continue within the frame of the narrative? Think of the implications of what that means in the narrative of Inuyasha, that the one character who arguably hates humans the most, feared and respected by other youkai, went through such a character arc that he would marry a member of a species he claimed to hate and sire children with her. 

Of course there would be repercussions; of course other demons wouldn’t be happy or be easily accepting of it, Shikon jewel prophecy be damned. 

Of course Sesshoumaru has to work hard to earn his complete happy ending with his family. He fell in love with Rin, a human woman, after all. And in the story of Inuyasha, has that not always been the catalyst for everything else? 

[wreckofawriter]

Jelly Slugs

Pairing: Harry Potter x reader

Word Count: 2,278

Warnings: Swearing, a little angsty, still plenty of fluff

Song to Set the Vibe: broken ~ lovelytheband

Request: @mcluuvin666 hi could i request a harry potterxreader in which the reader & harry always seem to find each other in the hospital wing at the end of each year because of harry’s adventures & somehow she always ends up hurt in a funny/ironic way even though it wasn’t her intention to get caught in their messes if that makes sense? either way harry & the reader get really close throughout years of ending up in the hospital wing w the reader being frustrated w the trio bc they’re the “reason” why she’s hurt and she’s just kinda like “you lot are going to be the death of me” but harry and reader end up going out anyway. lots of fluff and maybe angst if you can? thank you so much!!

A/n: Once agian so sorry this took so long! It may not be completely edited, excuse typos, I wrote litteratly all of it tonight. I'm trying to burn through my requets, if u sent one I got it I'm just waiting to get to it

    At eleven years old you had already had far too many near-death experiences, for you that meant one. You hadn’t meant to do anything at all, well except grab some snacks from the kitchen after hours, but it wasn’t anything you hadn’t done before. On your way back your ears had picked up a sweet symphony and you had grown curious. 

Turning a few unfamiliar corners you found the room, its heavy door ajar. You pushed it all the way open, a pastry still stuffed in your mouth preventing you from screaming. A large three-headed beast lay in front of you snoring loudly. Before you could turn and run your eyes found a small wooden trap door at its feet. The phrase your mother often scolded you with echoed in your head, Curiosity killed the cat. You about turned on your heel but then the ending of the saying learned from an equally mischievous classmate came to you, But satisfaction brought it back. 

You dropped the food in your hands and walked hesitantly towards the large dog. You then quietly opened the door, cringing as its hinges squeaked and peered inside being met with complete darkness. You were going to close the door retrieve your treats then head back to your dorm but as you turned you met a pair of brilliantly green eyes and you let out a yelp before stumbling backward and plunging into the hole with a scream. You were soon followed by three of your classmates almost as confused as you were. 

You ended up getting your arm broken by a giant chess piece on your way to retrieve something you didn’t fully understand and what you believed to be a curse began. 

You sat up in a cold sweat the image of a white stone queen drawing her sword waking you with a start. You rubbed your eyes only to find your left arm in a sling and aching a bit.

“Oh, good you’re awake.”

You turned to your right to see a little boy in round glasses smiling at you. “What happened last night?” you asked eyes wide.

“It’s a long story, but I suppose we have time.” He shrugged, “Jelly slug?” he offered holding out a colorfully wrapped package. 

“Yes please.”

Second year began as normal as it should have but it was soon strange and dangerous, pearlized classmates and strict rules making the school feel less and less like a home. Of course, your luck being about as bad as it got, you where the last victim of the basilisk. 

You had been polishing trophies to serve detention which you got for supposedly bad-mouthing Snape although it wasn’t your fault Draco was a filthy snitch. You then saw a large pair of yellow eyes in the shining metal and everything went dark.

You woke up four days later body aching eyes feeling extremely dry as you blinked vigorously. You had a strange sense of deja vu as the hospital wing soon came into view. Head once again thumping as you tried to recall your memories. 

“Oh right, you're here.”

You turned your head to the right to see a wide smile, green eyes hidden behind round glasses as cuts riddled the boy’s face. 

“Merlin Harry, what happened to you?” You gasped taking in his battered form. 

He shrugged, “I fought Voldemort.”

You cringed at the name but said nothing of it to him, “Again?” 

He laughed, “Yeah, this time it hurt more though.” 

“I’m glad you’re okay.” You grinned at him.

His cheeks reddened a bit, “Yeah, I’m glad you’re okay too.” 

You fell into an uncomfortable silence before Harry reached to his bedside table and offered you a tissue-wrapped box, “Jelly Slug?” 

You nodded taking it from him

Third-year had been downright dreadful for you. You were finally a teenager which basically meant everything that had been easy and quick now seemed to take hours and far too much thought. Every little thing you did you were sure would be scrutinized, it didn’t help when a close friend of yours spread a nasty rumor about you and you found yourself skipping classes and opting to stay in bed. A serial killer being on the loose certainly didn’t help. 

The only sort of decent thing that happened was your friendship with Harry, after two times of healing in the hospital wing together you decided to be at least acquaintances. You held study sessions with the boy and occasionally his two best friends although all they did was bicker.  

You also happened to be outside reading when a rat lept on you and dove down your shirt leading to you being dragged into a tree by a dog who turned out to be a serial killer who turned out to be Harry’s godfather. But to be honest you didn’t really care.

You were absolutely livid, your leg was torn apart and for the third time in a row you had somehow been shoved into an adventure you most certainly didn’t want to take part in and you were bleeding heavily because of it. 

Oh yes, how could you forget? You were also almost killed by your professor, who had turned into a werewolf just in time to almost kill you again. 

When you woke up in the hospital wing with the golden trio surrounding you, you weren’t so pleasant.

A string of foul curse words, pointing fingers and yelling was shot at the three teens who apologized profusely insisting they did not mean to get you caught up in their business. 

You eventually calmed down and found out it wasn’t all that bad considering you got to see the suddenly very attractive dark-haired boy who made a point to spend all of his free time in the hospital wing with you as your leg healed. You shared a large amount of jelly slugs as you read muggle books and did your best to stay on top of studies.

Fourth year was much better than the last. You and Harry spent more and more time together and you felt a large crush on the boy who lived growing. Hermione knew about it instantly and Ron seemed adamant to tease both of you just for the joy of watching your faces flush. But good things never lasted.

You had a heart attack when Harry’s name came out of the goblet and found yourself taking his side in a sudden war between him and Ron. The bitch of a journalist Rita Skita also plastered you and Harry’s face all over the daily prophet when she caught you hugging him before his first task. You went with Harry to the ball although to both of your disappointment only as friends. And you ended up comforting Hermione in the hallway anyway. 

You also were almost drowned by your sorry excuse for teachers in the second task. Never one to back down from a fight you yelled directly at Dumbledor and Karkaroff saying how if your name wasn’t pulled out of that idiotic goblet than you shouldn’t have to almost die for the even more idiotic tournament. Of course, you did this with a very colorful vocabulary that landed you three weeks of detention. 

When Harry pulled Cedric from the maze you had cheered clapping along with the band until suddenly you heard the boy wail like a wounded animal. You raced down to meet him and helped pull him off of the elder boy’s body.

He was shaking the entire time and when you finally managed to drag him away he buried his head into your neck and sobbed. 

Harry was then dragged away by Mad-Eye and you were quick to follow, bursting in on the two just as Moody no longer became Moody. 

“Harry!” You yelled diving at the quickly transforming man who was holding him at wand point. 

Your body suddenly erupted in such harsh pain you thought you might throw up. 

“Y/n!” Harry’s yells fell on deaf ears as the unforgivable curse took all of your attention. 

By the time Harry was able to disarm the man, you had passed out from the pain. 

You woke up in the hospital wing three days later a disheveled Harry seated in a chair next to you his arms folded on your bed his head resting on them. 

When you tapped his shoulder lightly he jolted awake immediately engulfing you in his embrace sobbing out apologies as you pushed yourself closer into his chest. 

“I’m so so sorry y/n, I never meant for you to be caught up in any of this.” He choked out pulling away from you and cupping your face in his hands. 

“It’s okay Harry, I’m okay.” You spoke smiling weakly feeling extremely exhausted. 

“But he used an unforgivable cu-” 

“I don’t care, I’m just happy you’re okay.” You interrupted leaning into the soft circles his thumb was drawing on your cheek.

Harry’s eyes filled with an unidentifiable emotion and suddenly his lips were on your own. 

The second they connected he backed away blushing so heavily you were sure he was hot to the touch.

“I’m so sorry y/n, I don’t know what I was thinking and I-”

You only shook your head and wrapped your hands around his neck bringing his lips back to yours. His hands ended up on either side of you as you leaned back down on the bed bringing him with you. He hovered over you, your tongue slipping into his mouth as you played with the ends of his hair. He tasted overly sugary with a hint of fruit, just like a jelly slug.

You were interrupted by a cough followed by a low chuckle and Harry immediately pulled away from you and you turned to see not only your headmaster but Professor McGonagal and Madame Pomfrey all staring at you. 

Your eyes went wide and you felt so hot you thought you might catch the sheets on fire. You stole a glance at Harry who had paled dramatically, looking sick. 

“I’m glad you’re feeling better y/n.” Dumbledore chortled. 

You hissed in at the pain that shot through your ankle. Your head had also begun to pound causing you to squeeze your eyes shut and attempt to relieve the pressure by pressing onto your temples. Fuck Umbridge. You hopped that bitch was dead, as your eyes began to adjust to the sudden brightness of your surroundings you saw an all to a familiar sight. The hospital wing had become your home away from home and now in fifth year you, it made sense you ended up there once again. 

When your psychotic headmaster dragged you, your boyfriend and your two best friends out to the forbidden forest as she was attacked by a giant she managed to hit you with some sort of spell which effectively left you in your current state. Harry who was seated beside you wrapped his arms around your waist and placed a kiss on your neck.

“You okay?” He asked he seemed stressed, then again when wasn’t he?

“I’m fine.” You lied with a smile pushing his glasses back up his nose. 

“I think you should stay here y/n/n, I can’t have you getting hurt.”  He frowned. You then took notice of the group of teenagers was behind him. They were clearly about to leave. 

“I think history has proven that kind of unavoidable at this point.” You sighed standing up and drinking whatever was on your nightstand, it turned out to be a pain medicine that tasted the equivalent of dragon piss. 

“Y/n...” Harry spoke hesitantly.

You turned to look at your boyfriend, your face set in stone. “If you don’t take me with you I will find another way to that building.” 

Harry sighed biting down on his lip, “Fine. Alright, guys, let’s go.”

Your lips twitched into a smile just as you were about to leave the room you noticed a small half-empty bag on the table next to your bed, you stuffed it into your pocket and ran after the group you had fallen behind. 

You sat silently eyelids feeling so heavy you thought they might close at any moment. Your entire body ached, your headache coming back stronger than ever, but you didn't let onto your pain. 

Harry had his head buried into your stomach as you combed through his messy hair, his sobs were the only sound in the massive black room. Sand was scattered around you as you clung to your boyfriend your back up against a black glass wall as you stared blankly ahead of you. Dumbledore stood a few feet away, seeming almost as lost as you were. Part of you hated him for putting Harry through everything he had just been through, but you knew it wasn’t his fault. 

Harry adjusted himself so his head was buried into the crook of your neck, his arms wrapped around your waist. The movement caused something in your pocket to crinkle, catching your attention. 

You reached into your robe and removed a half-empty bag of candy. You smiled in spite of yourself. 

You tapped Harry on the shoulder whispering his name. He looked up at you his eyes rimmed in red, his face blotchy, the sight made your heart throb.

“Jelly Slug?” You asked your voice cracking.

The boy let out a mix between a laugh and a sob before lightly placing his lips onto your own. He tastes salty and bitter, like tears and blood. You found yourself wishing you were elven again when everything was simple, wishing that Harry still tasted like jelly slugs. 

Taglist:

(Realizing I forgot this last fic I posted, my bad)

@accio-rogers

@roslea

@k3nz-doodl3

@theseuscmander

Masterlist

[wilwheaton]

The Purge.

Earlier this year, I made some significant and substantial changes to my life, continuing the process of growth and reflection that I started when I quit drinking almost four years ago. (Sidebar: it's remarkable how much clarity I got, and shocking how much pain I was self medicating for so much of my life. I'm so grateful for the love and support of my friends, my wife, and my kids, who supported me when it was clear that I needed to get alcohol out of my life. Be honest with yourself: if you're self medicating emotional pain and/or childhood trauma like I was, give some serious consideration to working on the root issues you're using booze to avoid. I'm so much happier and healthier since I quit, and that's almost entirely because I was able to confront, head on, why I was so sad and hurting so much of the time. I'm not the boss of you, but if you need a gentle nudge to ask for help, here it is: nudge.)

Anyway.

As I was cleaning up my emotional baggage, working on strategies to protect myself from my abusers, and practicing mindfulness daily, I realized that I had a ton of STUFF just sitting around my house, cluttering up my physical living space the way my emotional trauma and pain was cluttering up my emotional space. So I made a call, and hired a professional organizer to come to my house, go through all my bullshit with me, and help me get rid of all the things I didn't need any more.

This process was, in many ways, a metaphor.

We spent several days going through my closets, my game room, my storage spaces in my attic and shed, and eventually ended up with FIVE TRUCKLOADS of stuff I didn't need. Most of it was clothes and books and things that we donated to shelters, which was really easy to unload. I acquire T-shirts so much, I regularly go through my wardrobe and unload half of what I have, so it's easy to get rid of stuff without any emotional attachments.

But there were some things that were more difficult to get rid of, things that represented opportunities I once had but didn't pursue, things that represented ideas that I was really into for a minute, but didn't see through to completion, things that seemed like a good idea at the time but didn't really fit into my life, etc.

I clearly recall giving away a TON of electronic project kits to my friend's son, because he's 11, he loves building things, and he'll actually USE the stuff I bought to amuse myself while I tried to make a meaningful connection to my own 11 year-old self, who loved those things back then too. When I looked at all of these things, I had to accept and admit that 47 year-old me isn't going to make that connection through building a small robot, or writing a little bit of code to make a camera take pictures. I can still connect to that version of myself, but I do it now through therapy, through my own writing, my own meditation. For the longest time, I didn't want to let these things go, because I felt like I was giving up on finding that connection I was seeking, but what I didn't realize (and didn't know until I made the decision to let it go) was that I didn't need STUFF to recover something I'd lost and wanted to revisit.

I think that, by holding on to these kits and similar things, I was trying to give myself the opportunity to explore science and engineering and robotics in a way that young me was never given. Just about everything I wanted to do, that I was interested in when I was 11, was pushed aside, minimized, and sort of taken away from me by my parents. My dad made fun of everything I liked, and my mom made me feel like the only thing I should care about was the pursuit of fame and celebrity. Without parental support and encouragement, I never got the chance to find out if any of these other things would be interesting enough to me to think about pursuing them in higher education. Yes, for some reason, even when I was a really small kid, I was already thinking about where and when I would go to college. I never took even a single class, because I was so afraid of so many things when I was college age, but that's its own story, for another time.

As we went through just piles and piles of bullshit, it got easier and easier to just mark stuff for donation. That drone I used to fly for fun, that I kinda sorta told myself would eventually be used to film something I wrote? Get rid of it, that's never gonna happen. The guitar I kinda played a little bit when I was a teenager, but never really learned how to play properly? Give it to someone who is going to love it and play it so much, it lets them express their creativity in ways I was never able to. All those books I bought to make me a better poker player? Gone. All the books I bought to learn how to program in Python, Perl, Java, and even that old, used, BASIC book I picked up because I thought it would be fun to finally write that game I always dreamed about when I was ten? Give them all to someone who is actually going to *do* that, instead of just think about it.

It was, at first, really hard to get rid of this stuff, because I felt like I was admitting to myself that, even though I *could* paint all these minis (like I did when I was a teenager), even though I *could* study all of these books on Python and Arduino hacking, and probably make something kind of cool with that knowledge, I was never going to. I came to realize that having these things was more about holding on to the *possibility* that they represented. It was more about maintaining a connection to some things that once made me really happy. When I was a kid, I LOVED copying Atari BASIC programs out of a magazine and playing the games that resulted, because it was an escape from my father's bullying and my mother's neediness. When I was a teenager, I LOVED the time I spent (badly) painting Space Marines and Chaos Marines, because it gave me an escape from everything that was so hard about being me when I was 14. When I was in my late teens and early twenties, I spent hundreds of hours trying to learn the same five songs on the guitar, never mastering a single one of them. My time would have been much more wisely invested in learning the scales and chords that I declared were more boring than picking my way through the tablature for Goodbye Blue Sky.

And that all brings me to the thing that was simultaneously the hardest and most obvious thing to donate: all my Rock Band gear.

Did you know that the first Rock Band, which I and my kids and my friends played for literally a thousand hours, came out twelve years ago? Beatles Rock Band is a decade old this year. Rock Band 3 is ten years old, too.

I hadn't played Rock Band in almost five years when my friend asked me what I wanted to do with all these plastic guitars, both sets of pretend drums, and all the accessories that were stacked up neatly in the corner of my gameroom.

But a decade ago, Anne and I would send the kids off to their biodad's house, or to their friends' for a sleepover, have some beers, and play the FUCK out of Rock Band, almost every Saturday night. My god, it was so much fun for us to pretend that we were rocking all over the world, me on the drums, Anne on the vocals. Frequently, we'd get the whole family together to play, and we'd spend an entire evening pretending to be on tour together, blasting and rocking our way through the Who, Boston, Green Day, Iron Maiden, Black Sabbath, Dead Kennedys, and others. It brought us all closer together, and was incredibly valuable for our bonding, at a time when we really needed that.

And I was holding onto all these things, these fake plastic guitars and who even knows how many gigs of DLC, because I didn't want to lose my connection to those days. Part of me hoped that we'd all get together and play again, like we did when my kids were in their teens, like I would when I hosted epic Rock Band parties at Phoenix Comicon, or PAX, back before the world was on fire.

But when I looked at those things, neatly stacked up and untouched except by dust for years, I knew that we weren't going to play again, and that I didn't need these things in my house to validate the memories.

Back in those days, when Ryan and I would spend an entire Saturday afternoon and evening trying to complete the Endless Setlist on Expert (we never did, but we got to Green Grass and High Tides more than once), real musicians would smugly tell us that we were having fun the wrong way, that we should be learning REAL instruments instead of pretending to have already mastered them. I would always argue that the whole POINT of Rock Band was the fantasy. Can you imagine telling a 100 pound kid that he should be playing real football instead of Madden? Of course not, and yet.

But it kinda turns out that some of those smug musicians were right. As I packed up those plastic fake guitars and drum kits, put them into the truck with my real guitar, I had a small twinge of regret, that I had been focused on the fantasy, instead of developing a skill that I could still use today (the last time I attempted Rock Band, maybe four years ago, I couldn't get through a single song on Hard, much less Expert. My skills had faded, and it wasn't worth the effort to restore them). And then I stopped myself, because that's EXACTLY the kind of thinking that stopped me from following my dreams when I was a kid. What was important to me ten years ago, what's still important to me today, was the time I spent with my wife, with my kids, with our family, with my friends, pretending that we were something we weren't. We were doing something together, and that is what matters. Today, I can't recall anything specific about all the nights Anne and I played, though I know we worked our way through hundreds of songs together. But I can clearly recall how much fun it was.

Ryan and I still talk about the time I accidentally turned the Xbox off, when I meant to just power down my toy guitar, after we'd been trying to play the Endless Setlist on Expert for five hours.

Over the years, I had accumulated all this stuff that I was unwilling to let go of, because I felt like that would also mean letting go of the memories that were associated with those things. I felt like getting rid of things without following through on their intended use was admitting defeat, or being a quitter.

But after a year or so of daily, intense, therapy and reflection, after ending contact with toxic and abusive people who were exerting tremendous control over me, these things stopped being the keys to unopened doors, and they just became THINGS that I had to constantly move around to get them out of my way. Because I didn't need them anymore. I didn't need to pain minis like I did when I was 15, because I'm not 15. I'm not living with an abuser and his enabler. I'm not working for a producer who makes it clear to me at every opportunity that he owns me and has complete control over whether or not I'll have a film career.

I didn't need ANY of these things, and once I realized that, unloading them and getting them to people who DO need them felt as freeing and empowering as writing a goodbye letter.

I kept a few things that were still useful, or brought me joy. Books, mostly, and of course all my dice and games. It felt GOOD to admit that I'm never going to learn guitar, or build an Arduino-controlled anything. It felt GOOD and empowering to know that I'm a writer. I get my joy and explore my possibilities through storytelling and character development. THAT is what I love, and by getting rid of all this old stuff (and its emotional baggage) I created space in my life to be the person I am now, a person I love, in a life that is amazing.

I still have some emotional clutter, which is to be expected and isn't a big deal. The really cool thing is that I have physical and emotional space, now, to deal with it.

[angeltannis]

Iron Boy, Chapter 3: A Quest For Validation

(Ao3 Link)

All the thinking in the world was nothing compared to The Real Deal. Which, that fateful day, came in the form of a companion Moze decided would understand.  

FL4K was extremely meticulous with the feeding times for their pets, which meant they were always in the same part of Sanctuary at the same time every day. This day was no different. Several bowls were lined up in a perfect row on the floor of the ship’s central hub, each filled with a different kind of food ranging from pellets to squirming grubs.  

If FL4K was surprised to see Moze lingering by those bowls that particular day, they didn’t express such a sentiment. Instead they stomped by her with their usual diligence, followed closely by an array of beasts. “Here you are,” they said in that deep, mechanized voice of theirs, stepping aside to let their pets at their bowls. “Feed.” 

“Hey, man–” Moze hesitated as FL4K met her gaze with that single LED eye of theirs. “Uh, I mean...” Speaking in masculine terminology was her go-to for everyone, including herself. FL4K never failed to remind her that they were neither man nor woman, and that her gendered slang made no sense in application. “FL4K. If I were to ask you to do something really weird, and then never, ever talk about it again, would you be down for it?” 

“A bizarre request. I cannot commit to a response until I am given more details.” 

Double-checking to make sure no one was around, Moze knitted her fingers together. “Would you be willing to call me a ‘he’? Just so I can see how it feels?” 

FL4K’s unreadable face was unsettling at the best of times. Now it left her with no idea how they were going to respond. 

“Maybe you could just, like...” Her voice faltered, dropping in volume. “’Oh yeah, Moze, he’s a really cool guy. Well not a guy, but like, a cool Vault Hunter. And he’s got lots of style. And the ladies love him. Something like that.” 

FL4K stared at her for a long time. Then, in a tone entirely deadpan, they said, “Yes, Moze. He is a really cool guy. Not a guy. A cool Vault Hunter. He has lots of style. And ladies love him.” 

Her stomach fluttered again. Wow. “Do you...think that suits me?” 

“Humans’ gendered pronouns are largely incomprehensible to me.” 

So FL4K could voice Moze’s requested pronouns, but could not weigh in on if they suited her or not. For that, she’d need human input. 

Still though, the tingling in her stomach was real. “Huh. Thanks, FL4K.” 

“I am uncertain what I actually accomplished, but you’re welcome.” 

Humans understood pronouns in a social context. But they could also pass judgment and reject her. Was there a human onboard this ship who could give her an honest opinion without potentially turning her into a social pariah? She was too nervous to talk to Amara about it, and Zane was unreliable at best. Telling Moxxi was as good as telling everyone on the ship, and Ava was way too young to get it. 

Wait a minute. There was absolutely a human on board who could give her honest feedback without fear of social rejection.  

After gobbling down some skag jerky and downing half a bottle of Rakk ale from the kitchen, Moze dragged her feet to Sanctuary’s upper level. 

~~~

In the army, one was taught to keep pace. Keep rank. Fall in line. Movements, words, even thoughts were trained to a rigid rhythm, and to break that rhythm was to risk your entire squad breaking formation in battle, a death sentence. 

The way Dr. Tannis moved, talked, and even just existed flew in the face of everything Moze had had drilled into her all those years. She was erratic and chaotic, unpredictable. Her behavior made Moze nervous for just that reason. She preferred conversations where she could be reasonably sure of what the person was going to say next. Talking to Tannis felt like reading dialogue written by a predictive text emulator. 

When the infirmary door lifted into the ceiling, Tannis had her back turned. The door opened constantly when people walked by (side effect of the ship being designed by people with no spaceship design experience, to put it politely), so it made sense she might ignore it. But Moze had a feeling the doctor intentionally ignored entrants to her lab, anyway. 

As Moze took a few more steps inside, she realized Tannis was talking to herself. No, wait–she was talking to the toothbrush propped in a cup on her desk. Of course.  

“No, no, you must have misplaced it. Ava specifically said she would not steal from my lab when I wasn’t around.” After a moment of silence, Tannis whipped her chair over to face the toothbrush. “Well I am more inclined to believe her, considering you lied about putting the toilet paper backwards on the roll. Who does that?!” 

“Uh, hey Doc?” Moze was practically on top of her before Tannis finally turned around. 

“Oh, hello...you.” Tannis made no attempt to hide her scant recognition of the Vault Hunter who had helped save her life just a few months prior. “Do you require something of me?” 

“Yes.” Unlike most everyone else, Tannis actually appreciated and understood the art of getting right to the point. It was just about the only thing the two of them had in common. “I need your opinion about pronouns.” 

“Oh, you can use any for me, I don’t care.” With a wave of her hand, she was already turning her chair back around. 

“Not for you.” Moze reached out and turned the chair back around. Tannis raised her eyebrows, but did not protest. “For me.” 

Tannis’ face scrunched. She briefly–very briefly–met Moze’s eyes. “I do not feel as though that’s something I could make a call on.” 

With a sigh, Moze leaned against the desk housing Tannis’ array of illegible papers and empty coffee mugs. “Do you think it’d be weird if I asked people to use he/him for me, even though I don’t think I’m actually, like, a guy? ” 

Tannis was eyeing her paperwork. It was clear Moze was little but a distraction to her. “I find it equal parts baffling and amusing that you are asking me to be the judge of ‘weirdness’. How on earth should I know how the slack-jaws aboard this ship will perceive non-traditional relationships to gender? Most of them glaze over upon the use of a word with more than two syllables.” 

“’Kay, look. Lemme explain.” Moze held her hands out in emphasis. Tannis’ eyes flicked from the right to the left in turn. “I’m kinda going through a thing here. It’s probably not a big deal, but I wanted to ask somebody who won’t treat me different afterward. I know you pretty much treat everyone with equal...” 

“Apathy?” Tannis volunteered. “Disdain?” 

“Yeah, those. So that’s why I’m asking you.” Moze drifted her hands down, emphasizing the entirety of herself. “Do you think I’d make a good he/him...whatever I am?” 

Tapping her chin, Tannis eventually said, “As surprised as I am by your decision to recruit me as your pronoun advisor, I must admit I am flattered. So I will give you my honest opinion.” Her bright green eyes, so vivid with life and curiosity, searched Moze for another moment. “I was not entirely sure of your gender when I met you. I’m terrible at that sort of thing, anyway, but...” 

“Wait. You couldn’t tell I was a woman?” 

Tannis shrugged her leather-padded shoulders. “I pay very little attention to gendered markers and such. Or to people in general.” 

“So you...” In spite of her bravado, talking about such delicate topics made Moze feel very, very small. “You think people would be cool with calling me a he? It’s kinda weird.” 

“I’d certainly call you that. Easier than trying to remember your name.” The accompanying blank stare emphasized Tannis’ point. 

Moze stared back. “It’s Moze.” 

“Right. Of course.” 

As much as the cyclical conversation had largely gone nowhere, it somehow made Moze feel better. At least one person on this ship didn’t give a damn what pronouns she used, and would respect whatever she chose. 

“I appreciate this, Doc.” Moze was tempted to give her a good-natured whack on the back like Lorelei had done, but quickly rethought it. “I might change my mind, but, well, I might not.” 

Tannis gave a sage nod. “It took me decades to really begin to know my own self. You’re young yet–it’ll come to you in time. And there’s nothing better than embracing yourself and your quirks!” Plucking her toothbrush out of its cup, she said, “Isn’t that right, Greb?” 

The surprisingly maternal bit of consolation dismantled the last bits of wall Moze had erected around her vulnerabilities. Biting her lip, she dropped her gaze to the floor. “Uh, yeah. Thanks.” 

“Anytime, Nose!” 

She was buried in her paperwork again before Moze could bother to correct her. Apparently that was the end of the conversation. Moze slunk out of the lab, her head filled with more thoughts than ever–but for once, they were not entirely bad. 

~~~

What little confidence Moze had worked up talking to FL4K and Tannis was obliterated the moment a certain other Crimson Raider sat down with her at the same dining hall table. Moze froze in place, the greasy meat of her sandwich sliding out onto her plate with a series of plops. She didn’t look up. She didn’t have to. The meticulously-moisturized deep brown arm lined with otherworldly blue tattoos that leaned down onto the table told her everything she needed to know. 

“Ugh, greasy meat scraps again? You really need to start eating better.” Amara’s multiple arms set down six plates, filled with probably every food group. “Didn’t they teach you how to take care of yourself in the military?” 

Uncertain how to respond, Moze took a big bite of her sandwich and chewed slowly. 

Amara started in on the dish nearest to her, a hefty salad. “What’s the matter? Ratch got your tongue?” She laughed that teasing but good-natured chuckle of hers that made Moze’s heart rate increase. “I’m pretty sure they do eat tongues, actually.” 

Amara was not someone Moze felt comfortable with. Not because she disliked her–in fact, it was entirely the opposite. She made Moze sweat a whole lot more than usual, and say things even dumber than usual. 

“Oh, uh, yeah.” Moze attempted a laugh as boisterous as Amara’s. Her laugh was so small and thin compared to Amara’s deep, rich voice. “Sorry, just...really focused on my...sandwich.” 

Most of the remaining meat had fallen out. Moze was basically eating grease-soaked bread. 

Amara’s gaze flicked from the plate full of sandwich innards to Moze’s rapidly-pinkening cheeks. She didn’t speak. She didn’t have to. 

For as boisterous as she could be, Amara kept many of her opinions close to the chest. Moze had literally no idea how she felt about gay stuff or gender stuff. She had no idea whether Amara herself was gay or trans or anything like that, either. Much as she wished she knew what Amara was into. 

The tiny bites of bread she took slid down her throat like that deep-fried thresher tentacle she definitely had not grabbed off a food cart at Carnivora that time. Why did this have to be the time Amara suddenly took interest in her? Did she have some magic siren sense that told her when someone around her was in distress? 

She wanted so badly to reach out. Amara was the closest thing she’d had to a “gal pal” in, well, ever, really. Is that something we’d still consider ourselves? Or would I have to be something else? Amara’s...bro? That felt weird, but then another thought crept shyly through her mind–she was nowhere near ready for dating, maybe never would be, but if she did...could she call herself someone’s boyfriend? That thought gave her those stomach flutters again. They didn’t feel like food poisoning or gas. They felt like when you managed to dig up a good memory amidst a sea of bad ones. 

“I gotta go.” Moze informed Amara of her departure as she was already in the process of departing. Amara simply watched her, a frown on that gorgeous face of hers. Moze had never thought Amara cared–at least, not enough to hide her movie star smile behind a frown of concern. Yet there she was, not a trace of bold, cocky smile to be seen. 

She thought about Lorelei’s offer to talk again, and of Tannis’ oddly supportive advice. Maybe more people cared about her than she thought. Maybe she didn’t have to be scared to show her vulnerabilities to the people around her.

Turning back around was about the hardest simple thing she’d ever done. “Okay, actually,” she said, trying for a voice that was strong and devoid of fear, “there is something I wanted to tell you.” 

[harrynightingales]

Straight male writer: 6 years is nothing to an immortal! Their relationship needs ANGST to be interesting!! Me: am I supposed to believe that these two men, who have been together for almost a millennium, who KNOW that any death could be their last because their immortality isn’t guaranteed, wouldn’t speak for SIX YEARS??? (If the unspeakable happened during that time period the survivor would never forgive himself!)

i'm with you anon!!! i actually have a lot of rambly thoughts on this and now feel enabled to share them because hey, you started it! under the cut because this is long as hell

edit: just as a heads up i read this as anon referring to the writer of the ttt3 moon landing story who to be fair i don't know if he is straight, or just as a general ~straight man writer~ perspective

first of all hard agree that the idea of angst = complex and interesting is really frustrating. i say that as someone who definitely can and does enjoy angsty miscommunication based fic but it definitely strikes me as something a) quite rare for them and b) not at all required for an interesting story. there are so many potential experiences for the anthology writers to explore that focusing on conflict all the time seems. uncreative.

anyways the 6 years comment has been fully disregarded by me. in general i have the approach of picking the canon/word of god comments that i like and ignoring the rest. specifically, it strikes me as the type of thought a writer would have when first writing about immortals, the whole idea that years pass like its nothing because they live so long. i imagine the writer was guilty of the same thing that grucka himself admitted to, of picking something that sounded cool because it was ~possible with immortal characters (in grucka's case, randomly picking 6000 as an age for andy) without actually thinking through the implications and whether it makes sense.

because as i mentioned in my reply (which i assume you saw?), the human experience of fighting with someone you love and not speaking to them fucking sucks. it feels good and satisfying for all of what? a day? and beyond that you just miss that person, especially when they are so intertwined with your every day life the way joe and nicky are. and exactly like you said, why on earth would they willingly put themselves through that when we canonically know how much they value and love each other?? because the way i see it you can fully disagree with someone and be angry with them but still make it clear that you love them by communicating. and the silent treatment is truly just the absence of any sort of communication and i can't imagine a scenario where an argument would be so very important to justify that level of anger to avoid any communication for more than a few days.

to be clear the actual events of the comic are not the main concern for me. i do think the philosophical differences between joe and nicky that are highlighted are interesting and would naturally bring some tension. i even can kind of understand the choice to go silent on each other - joe really eloquently explains his point to andy, but maybe he hadn't quite figured out his own thought process enough to explain it at the time of the original argument with nicky. and the hill i will die on re: joe/nicky's relationship is that it is built on respect, i imagine they would be emotionally mature enough to not lash out in anger and potentially say something hurtful that they can't take back. so choosing to remove themselves from the situation and not speak so as to not make things worse makes sense, as an initial reaction. where it loses me personally is that you can see that both ~activities if you can call them that are really important to joe and nicky. for joe, seeing the moon landing and appreciating beauty and progress in the world, and for nicky, serving justice to more people that caused innocent people harm (the "more" very consciously there because joe obviously also believes in their work and stopping injustice, but in this case they have different priorities past a certain baseline). and going back to my idea as respect as foundational for them, part of that in a relationship is recognizing that what is important and of value to your partner becomes important to you, even if you don't fully understand it. the way that joe so earnestly talked about wanting to experience the beauty of the moon landing and wanting to experience it with nicky makes me believe that nicky would reconsider his priorities, especially taking into account the "once in a lifetime" nature of watching the first the moon landing vs simply the convenience of having the hitlist targets all at home. and similarly, even if joe isn't fully convinced that everyone on nicky's hitlist needs to get taken out, he would recognize how and why that is important to nicky and not allow it to be something that comes between them, because like i said earlier fighting for justice is something they have in common. so in my mind the most in-character ideal response would be "argument of what to do next after taking out the serial killer -> both explain their positions and why that is their priority -> COMPROMISE". 

but ANYWAYS that huge ramble aside, the main plot "fight" of their's is not such a big deal to me, especially since its clear that joe knows nicky will call and its implied that he does shortly after the event of the comics. if anything, as others have said, it just seems FAR better suited for early days in their relationship rather than multiple centuries into it when they would have PLENTY of opportunity to iron out their moral approaches to killing plus gone through Communication In Relationships 101.

it really is just the 6 years comment that grinds my gears. again, a 6 year silent treatment argument could maybeee make sense in like, the first century of their relationship, as they were figuring stuff out and also before they discovered the fact that they can lose their immortality. like you said anon, once they have that information, i truly cannot believe they would willingly waste that much time over something that can't have been all that consequential. and i really don’t understand the argument that “because they’re immortal time doesn’t mean the same thing to them and 6 years is nothing!!” because imo that’s just.. not how the brain works. like they are fully human and process emotions as humans, and the human way is that conflict/anger/stress feel BAD, especially when you’re in the middle of it. your emotions are heightened which would put you on edge and feeling irritable and the brain is absolutely NOT meant to be in that state for an extended period of time. and again, why would they put themselves through that when they could just?? do the grown up thing and have a conversation. what would be the motivation to experience those shitty feelings for 6 years when an alternative exists?? not to mention greg's comment that the two of them had never willingly spent time apart, and even if they were still (indirectly) interacting while not speaking, the emotional distance it would require to be physically next to someone and disregard them like that for MULTIPLE YEARS runs really contrary to the way the relationship is presented. 

that being said i do find this post super funny and i definitely can imagine them going through the motions of "negative" relationship experiences (can you say jealousy and lorenzo???) entirely for the sexual payoff. but again, to take it kinda seriously, even that in my mind would be based on a foundation of understanding that they do love each other and they're not really REALLY mad at each other, just

p.s. i wrote almost this whole thing in a daze about 24 hours ago and then i saw this post which makes a lot of the same points as me so hopefully this isn’t repetitive and i’m sorry op i promise i wasn’t stealing your ideas. nice to be on the same page as others though!

[dreamnap]

[fic] oh, i miss when we first met (take me out baby)

pairing: onesided sapnap/dream (dreamnap), background dreamnotfound

rating: g

genre/tags: angst and unrequited love babey! oh, and did i mention pining?

notes: me and @dream-not-found ​are twinning with unrequited dreamnap. go read her fic and weep. special shoutout to mitski, who i listened to exclusively on loop over and over again while writing this fic

summary:  It was as much of a confession as he was going to give.

ao3 link 

It could be love. 

Sapnap stared at the phone, the remnants of Dream’s voice still echoing in his mind. It had been the first video call they'd done in a while— a celebratory thing, really, where he had popped in with a quick happy birthday as the clock rolled over to midnight.

Dream’s face, though blurry from the dark lighting, was still clear enough for Sapnap to get a good look at him. The last time he had seen him on camera must have been years ago, and Dream had changed immensely since then. His body had filled out some, from what he could tell, broader than before, and he now held himself with a sort of modest confidence. 

It could really be love: churning, heavy, pooling into his gut.

He was handsome, in a way that still retained that characteristic boyishness Sapnap had grown familiar with from when they were kids. Handsome in the way his smile stayed in his thoughts even hours after he’d hung up.

They were friends⁠⁠—best friends, even. Nothing more than that. 

It shouldn’t have been anything more than that, and yet Sapnap had been grappling with the idea for a while now, turning the words over and over in his mouth as he lay under the covers, remembering the way Dream curled up into himself a little when he’d laughed, tucking his face in the crook of his elbow as he wheezed out some stupid joke he’d seen earlier that day. 

Love isn’t what he wants. It shouldn’t be love. And anyways, Dream had been mentioning a girl he'd met recently, seemed to have really hit it off with her.

It would pass. Sapnap would make sure of it.

⁠—⁠—⁠—⁠— 

Two weeks before high school graduation he gets asked out.

“I know it’s kind of late,” she said, so quietly that he almost didn’t hear. “But you should go out. With me.”

He did his best to remember who she is, but all he could think of was one of his woodshop classes, where she camouflaged into the crowd in the back. She had brown hair. Green eyes. Not memorable in many ways, but the relaxed smile she had given him on occasion when they walked in together had left Sapnap with all sorts of strange, familiar feelings. 

She left him her number this time instead.

He pulled open her contact, and stared at the text box.

They had joked about it before, sometimes. 

When you come down to my place, where should I take you out?, innocently thrown into the recording. Like as a date?

It was too flippant to be real but it had always made Dream happy, even if he cut it out from the final video, and so Sapnap knew it was never a big deal, really. Besides, it was fun to joke around with him, and everytime he laughed there was a tide of affection that rose through Sapnap⁠— slow, crashing, like the way a wave rolled into shore. The idea of love⁠—forsaken as that was⁠—always gave him a little rush of hope, almost pathetic in a way, that made him wish he’d get an answer out of him one of these days.

What kind of flowers should I get you? Roses? They’re your favorite, aren’t they?

He thought about the facetimes at midnight, where the room was so dim that his hair had looked brown, and the green of his eyes; the way he grinned so bright whenever he talked about his girlfriend.

It wasn’t his to take.

So, he texted. When would you be free?

He could work this out.

⁠—⁠—⁠—⁠— 

“I don’t think this is working out.”

She was sitting in the passenger seat next to him, the car parked outside of her house, quiet as radio played some generic pop song that melted into the next.

“I know.”

She wasn’t looking at him, which made it almost worse than it already was. She wouldn’t say a word, she was staring out the window. Her gaze was almost unfocused, as if she were watching something very far in the distance. The reflection glared back at him in the dark of the evening. 

And maybe it was cruel but he couldn't help but feel indifferent at it all. There was pain, sure— the same kind of pain that came with letting anyone go, but it was lighter. Different. It was mutable in a way, easy to ignore, and he found himself thinking about what to make for dinner instead, or if he had any homework due before his lecture tomorrow.

The car door opened. Closed. She never even said a goodbye. 

He couldn’t blame her for that.

The music in the background kept going until the words and the melody faded into a dull static, and when he got home he crept up to his room.

He debated checking Teamspeak to see if anyone was online. There was no way he was going to be able to find Dream that night: he’d messaged him about big plans and she’s gonna love this gift I got her as they’d chatted aimlessly in his discord earlier. 

I’m thinking maybe a fancy restaurant but— how fancy is too fancy, do you think? he’d asked. A dinner date, then. Sapnap couldn't help but close his eyes, and thought about Dream dressed all slick, and as the heat gradually rose to his face he knew he'd never be satisfied. 

But Dream had a girlfriend who he loved very much; he stood no chance, regardless.

He glanced at the monitor. Maybe if he stayed up long enough he’d catch George and convince him to do a quick PVP match, if he woke up early. Sapnap’s first class tomorrow wasn’t until sometime midafternoon, anyways, so he could afford to stay up late.

His phone remained silent from its perch on his desk. She didn’t call or text him back, and he never did either.

⁠—⁠—⁠—⁠— 

>i don’t think this is working out.

Dream’s message startled him awake as the small notification went off in his headphones.

There were papers scattered all over his desk, layered over the top of his keyboard and everything around it. It was normally never that bad, but now, knee-deep in midterms, organization has taken its role as the least important thing to worry about. Sapnap shoved them aside into some poor, forlorn pile to his right as he grabbed his mouse and opened up Discord to type out a reply.

>what??

He rubbed a hand over his eyes, glancing at the clock in the corner of his screen. One in the morning, which meant he had dozed off by accident over an hour ago. Another sound went off as Dream finally sent something back.

>how did you get over your breakup?

Breakup.

Breakup?

When had they broken up? Dream had seemed fine just yesterday, from what he could remember. He’d never come to him about any fights before, seemed happy. He sat there and looked up at the ceiling, trying to remember the last year, but all he could think of was the sound of Dream’s voice.

>just stay strong man

>it only hurts for a week 

>or two or three

Sapnap watched the three dots fall as Dream stopped typing, and waited for a bit for a response. Minutes passed, and then an hour, and Sapnap went back to looking at his notes. He knew Dream better than almost anyone else, and he knew when he needed his space.

⁠—⁠—⁠—⁠— 

“Don’t you think George is kinda cute?” Dream had asked one day, while they were playing on Hypixel together.

Sapnap's first thought is what?, and he sat there, dumbfounded, until he realized that it deserved to be said out loud.

“What?”

“You know what I mean! Kind of like a cat!”

Sapnap, in fact, did not know what that meant. He hadn’t even really known George all that well up until about a year or so ago, when Dream had pulled them in a Teamspeak channel together one day while brainstorming ideas for his new video.

Objectively, George was no cuter than a pigeon or something he’d pass on the street. He was fine, really, but Sapnap couldn’t see anything overly remarkable about him. Sapnap loved to bicker with him, and he was funny⁠—a little crazy, even⁠—but Dream thought he was hilarious even doing nothing at all. Dream waxed terrible poetry about his smile, praised the way he programmed, and always talked about the way his eyes had looked the one time he did a face reveal for a video.

Sapnap wasn’t really sure what to do with this information.

Dream likes him, he thought to himself later that night after George had joined the channel. Dream tried goading him into saying I love you while he was tossing him a stack of roses in-game, and George’s face flushed a funny shade of red as he finally said the words to get Dream to stop.

Sapnap looked at the two and buried his head in his hands. He stayed like that for a very long time.

⁠—⁠—⁠—⁠— 

Eventually he had hit a breaking point. 

They were streaming together, that’s how it went. They were streaming together, and Dream was riding off on another horse he’d picked up somewhere out in the near distance of their survival world. He was on his way to gather some more wood while he chatted with the viewers on Twitch in a relaxed lull.

Sapnap had been quiet for the most part, contented in his own small journey traversing the stripmine. He hummed along to some song from the chill beats playlist he’d pulled up half an hour ago as he tossed out andesite from his inventory. They had put George in charge of fixing a ruined flat of land near the tree farm, where it had only recently been wrecked by some creepers and poor timing. The battered holes had remained in the ground for about a week, until everyone was tired of being lazy and finally decided to do something about it. George sat there, where he complained for what must have been the last ten minutes about the lack of cobble to make stone bricks with and, well, Sapnap had figured he might as well get some more iron for all of them while he was at it.

“⁠—thank you for the dono,” Dream’s voice cut in, the rhythmic lilt of it so jarring that it snapped Sapnap out of his near daze as he dug along the grid patterns cut through stone. “Hi there. I love watching all of your videos! Can you tell George that you love him? And can you get him to say ‘I love you Dream?’ too?” 

Sapnap looked over to the second monitor on his left, the donation box fading from the screen by the time he glanced at it. Dream’s stream silently continued to play in the background. He was towering up to reach the farthest edge of a large oak tree, inching towards the last log buried somewhere within the leaf blocks. The chat picked up as some fans started to bicker amongst themselves. Dream didn’t mind them—never did, really—and plowed on through with his reply. 

“Haha, thank you. I’m glad you love watching them,” he said, not even missing a beat. “I tell George I love him all the time! He’s the one who never says it back. Geooorge, I love you.”

Suddenly how all of his collected material was sorted became the most interesting thing in the world to him. Sapnap took his time as he meticulously lined up the stacks for what felt like an hour. A second passed. George gave some kind of stilted laugh, the kind that he lets out when he feels too embarrassed to properly respond. Sapnap’s only thought was about the singsong way Dream called out that name in. 

“See guys? It’s not my fault, I have no problem saying it! C’mon George, do it so they don’t waste their money. Just say I love you Dream.”

“I’m not saying that,” George butted in, his mic crackling a bit. His video was off but even then Sapnap could tell from how he said it that he was practically squirming in his seat. Coward. It wasn’t as if he’d never said it before, but he was always so camera shy⁠, especially with his crush— 

Dream was still play-pleading for an answer, and so Sapnap decided to indulge him. 

“Aww, Dream, you know I love you. You’ll always have my love, even if Georgie hates you.”

That got a reaction. Dream burst out in laughter as he breathily wheezed out a silly, off-tune heart been broke so many times while George started sputtering, trying to deny it. 

Those two idiots. Sapnap’s been around them enough to know what flirting looks like. He thought about Dream, with his late night calls, where he bounced ideas off of Sapnap on what would get the best reaction from him in his newest video, and the way he had been doing it on and off for the past few months, now; George on his tiptoes until he ultimately stumbled into Sapnap’s DMs on Teamspeak, flustered over something Dream told him. 

Coward, Sapnap thought, as he watched the two of them do their dance. He and George both were, he’d give him that.

I love you, I love you, I love you.

It was as much of a confession as he was going to give.

[thebibliomancer]

Song of the Dark Crystal liveblog pt 10

Song of the Dark Crystal by J.M. Lee because DON’T TRUST WHO??

Last times in book: Kylan, Naia, Tavra, and Gurjin are on their way to Aughra’s High Hill to enlist her help in warning all Gelfling of the Skeksis’ drinking problem. I.e. they like to drink people. On the way up the hill, Kylan spots some dream-etching in a spider nest that says DO NOT TRUST HER. Vaguely ominous!

Chapter 10

Naia talks to some more plants. The party meets Aughra. Ha ha.

Aughra’s High Hill was not casually named. Within the mountainous forest, it was the highest point in all the land, near where the Black River originated, closest to the suns and moons and stars. Not a high hill, but the High Hill.

Good reason for it to be named like that then.

‘Aughra lives on the high hill’ ‘Oh, which one?’ ‘I don’t think you understand. When I say the high hill i mean THE high hill.’

Anyway, after all that stuff about reading writing under a spider web, Tavra doesn’t even care enough to ask. Gurjin does but Naia just tells him they’re not sure what it meant.

With Naia spending time chatting with Gurjin, it leaves Kylan nothing to do but think which he decides is his role.

If that was his job in all of this, then he would gladly take on the burden.

Its a lonely job possessing the sole pair of braincells to rub together ha ha (just joshing obvs)

Kylan thinks about that mysterious DO NOT TRUST HER message but he can’t really get anywhere on that ponderation so instead decides to ask Tavra what she meant when she said spiders hate Gelfling.

“Spiders hate Gelfling... All Vapra know this.”

“They hate us? All of them?”

“Oh yes. From the death-stingers to the crystal-singers.”

This was news to Kylan, though on reflection he’d never had a conversation with any spider before. The idea that an entire race might loathe his own was discomfiting. He wasn’t even sure what a crystal-singer spider was.

He asks why spiders hate Gelfling but Tavra just tells him to ask the next time he sees a spider. Which is a weird answer.

So I’ve changed my suspicion for what’s up with Tavra from ‘something something Skeksis’ to ‘something something Skeksis but definitely think she’s Spider-Tavra.’

I think the books and the show are following at least the same vague outline so I figure with all the opinions she has on spiders all of a sudden, she might be being controlled by one.

Later, Tavra tells the group they’ll reach Aughra’s by evening and asks if they’ve prepared what they’re going to say to her.

“I plan to tell her the situation and see if she has advice. Is there more to it than that?”

“You’re about to speak to Mother Aughra, the Ram-Horned. The mouth of Thra. She was born of the world, both child and mother. She has seen Thra before the Gelfling were but sprouts in the garden of all creatures. You would speak to her so casually?”

“I’ll speak to her like I’d speak to anyone else,” Naia said. “With respect -- if she deserves it.”

God, Naia is great. Its that Drenchen upbringing. The hard-talk. Just cut right to the point.

Gurjin points out that Aughra probably respects hard-talk since it’s the language of the natural world.

Which I kinda see? As a point?

Tavra just shakes her head at this but doesn’t really object. She doesn’t even want to be here so at best she’s disappointed on principle.

Kylan, almost passive protagonist but definitely a socially withdrawing protagonist that he is, doesn’t add to the conversation. Just thinks anxious thoughts.

Aughra was said to be wise, to know all things -- but as Tavra had said, she might already know about the Skeksis. Worse, she might already know and yet have done nothing. The Gelfling were her favored children, as their lore sang time and time again, but those songs had been written by the Gelfling. Did Aughra think of the Gelfing as much as any flower in her garden? Would she be equally content to see one creature devour another, if it, too, were part of the circle of life?

Its an interesting idea there about the Gelfling being her favored children, according to Gelfling. Like, oh geez what if we overestimated ourselves?

(Although the minor good point to add to this anxiety ramble is that the Skeksis aren’t part of the natural order. So there’s that.)

Gurjin also thanks Kylan for keeping Naia company and helping her in the woods during that whole Gurjin heroic sacrifice thing.

Kylan: “I’m glad you’re alive. I’m glad we all are.”

Aw, friends.

They reach the finger vines as mentioned in Rian’s warning.

Thick orange vines covered the cliff wall in front of them, finger-shaped and tangled like rope that had been left too long to its own devices. No further pathways led deeper into the crag, but Kylan could feel a draft coming from behind the vines. There was a tunnel there but they would have to pass through the overgrowth, and if one part of Rian’s instructions had stayed with Kylan, it was to stay away from the finger-vines.

Tavra hucks a rock into the vines and they immediately tangle about it before dropping it as inedible.

So, I’m pretty sure that these are the same vines that Jen will eventually blunder into. It’s not his fault, he didn’t have a helpful Rian in his life.

I wonder how long the vines take to eat something. Jen is lucky that Aughra was literally right around the corner when he got caught.

I’m honestly a bit surprised that finger-vines are a specific predatory plant and not just. Something Aughra set up to discourage solicitors.

Oh my god, I’m once again blown away by Jen going to visit Aughra in his quest without any idea of her significance. The UrRu never even told him that (for all practical purposes) god lived a day down the road.

I’m sure they did their best but wow. He has holes in his education.

I’m getting off-track.

Naia tries calling for Aughra through the vines but this time she’s not lurking right around the corner so that doesn’t work.

Tavra was unimpressed and unsurprised, almost smug at the situation.

I’m glad that you’re probably a spider, Tavra, because you are being a bummer.

She again calls this whole trip a waste of time which annoys Naia into wing flicking. Love the wing body language but now I’m wondering what specific muscles correspond to that. I guess if your back stiffens... yeah, that makes sense.

Anyway, Naia is so annoyed that she decides to dreamfast with a plant again. She just goes and puts her hands on the vines and instead of entangling her, they do not do that.

Kylan had learned the language of the Landstriders, as all Spriton did. Tavra had certainly learned the tongue of other creatures as well, in her training to serve the All-Maudra. But those were languages spoken on the tongue, in sets of words and phrases. Naia’s unique ability to dreamfast with creatures other than Gelfling let her speak in the universal song of the heart.

This is neat!

It expands on Kira’s beastmastery. At least in the novelization, it’s mentioned during Jen and Kira’s dreamfast that Kira’s podmom Ydra taught her the language of animals.

And apparently it used to be a thing for some Gelfling to learn. But not as much as Kira! Ydra knew a lot!

Anyway, after dreamfasting with a plant again, the vines open like a curtain to let the four Gelfling (or four Gelfling and a spider??) enter.

At the end of the tunnel they find a door to Aughra’s Sweet Orrery.

(Just imagine the Dark Crystal theme in your head)

Most impressive was the enormous moving contraption that occupied the center of the chamber. It filled the space of the room with dozens of huge spheres, mounted on poles and swooping arms. The machine rotated and gyrated like a living thing, spheres orbiting spheres, circling yet other spheres, all of it shining in bronze, copper, iron, and glistening stones. Clearly, the grating sounds emanated from the machine, and the movement of its pieces stirred the air so it felt as though there were a breeze, even inside the crystal dome.

“Amazing,” Kylan breathed.

He recognized some of the symbols etched deep into the metals: the symbols that represented the Three Brothers, others that represented the elements of the earth and water, air and fire.

“Its the path of the stars,” he said. “The suns, and...”

Then Aughra pops up from behind a book tower.

And she is amazing.

“What, you just gonna stare? Walk right into my home just to stare, did you? Maybe you should draw a picture, take it with you!”

This is exactly the kind of Aughra I was hoping for.

Also, the way she speaks the Gelfling language (the single Gelfling language that exists I guess?) with what sounds like an ancient accent to Kylan. Although I’m not sure how he would know, I’d bet he’s right.

Naia takes the lead and tells Aughra that they’re here to ask for her help, calling her Mother Aughra.

“Mother Aughra, eh? Ask for my help, eh? Why is it you Gelfing only call Aughra Mother when you need help? That’s what children do, I guess... I guess that’s what they do.”

‘You never call, you never write’ hahaha

This is quality Aughra content.

With her grump helpfully communicated, she takes note of the party and grumps some more, noting that they only have a Spriton, a Vapra, and a Drenchen.

“Hmph. Three out of seven ain’t bad. It’s still soon. Where are the others?”

And when they don’t have any idea what she means:

“What others, he asks? What others? The other clans, of course! Gelfling gathering. What else is there to know?”

Its like when you arrive to the final dungeon without a full party and the NPC is like ‘lol no go hit some more plot flags’

Aughra sat heavily on her table stool, as if hoping they might go away if she ignored them long enough.

I don’t know how many ways I can say how great this is.

I’m living for it. Unlike Jen, these Gelfling know that Aughra isn’t some random grumpy mountain woman. She’s basically god and she’s behaving like a cranky grandmother. Kylan can’t even warp his head around how different from his expectations this is turning out to be.

I also guess it answers in this continuity whether Aughra was so grumpy in the movie because she’d lost much of her hope after the Gelfling were all but wiped out. It turns out: no, she’s Just Like That.

When a thousand ++ trine you reach, be so nice you will not.

But since they don’t just leave, Aughra decides she will say more things.

“Come on, then, Gelfling. Children. Aughra already knows what you want to know. Whether it’s what you want to hear, though, hmph! Might not be.”

Oh, this sidequest is shaping up beautifully.

J.M. Lee, you have done a marvelous job.

[littleeyesofpallas]

Demon Slayer - Name Games

So ive been kinda getting into kimetsu no yaiba lately and on the one hand it hasn’t really hooked me or anything story-wise just yet, but boy oh boy am i loving the aesthetic and general design sensibilities.  The biggest motifs at work, at least from where I’ve read so far, that I really love are the use of some traditional Japanese fabric patterns and the use of hanafuda card motifs.

I don’t think I’ll get as into this all as I have with Bleach but I wanted to put some of these rambling thoughts somewhere, so here we go...

the most obvious hanafuda reference is in tanjiro’s earrings which are explicitly referenced as looking like hanafuda card.  ironically of all the hanafuda references though, his are actually the only modified ones.  His earrings are based on the Moon card in the suit of Silvergrass/August, and not the sun and crane card from the pine/janurary suit.  In Hanafuda, each of 12 suits has a core plant(usually flowering), an affiliated month, and within each suit 1 ribbon and 1 “animal” card. (although not all the animal cards are actual animals).

The whole Kamado family has an ichimatsu:”checker" pattern motif, although Nezuko also has an asanoha:”hemp leaf” pattern as well.  The checker pattern doesnt really have any overt meaning, as it’s a pretty universal pattern, but it does have associations with heroes and lead actors via kabuki theatre costuming.  The hemp leaf is a symbol of growth and good health, and is often used in baby clothes.

Also as usual i’m a sucker for name games.  Kamado[竈門]: "Hearth Gate" and  Tanjiro[炭治郎]: "Charcoal Regulate Son."  It's an irregular construction, as the name Tanjiro is a real name but the “charcoal” kanji isn’t how you’d normally write the Tan- part. (More conventional writings would probably be [丹治郎], which reads as [丹] "red-earth"/"rust-colored.") Both names play up his family trade as charcoal makers/sellers, if that wasn’t clear, which in turn plays into his overall sun and fire themes.

Nezuko[禰豆子]: "Ancestral-shrine bean child" is a neat name and also a homonym with Nezuko[鼠子]: "Rat child."  I assume the “rat” pun is there to evoke gnawing, as in her demon fang gag.  The bean, as a seed and as food are probably meant to evoke good health and growth, like the asanoha pattern.  

Zenitsu’s associated card is the Thunder card from the Willow/November suit.  The same suit’s animal card has a Sparrow on it.

His fabric pattern is an uroko:”scale,” pattern probably most recognized as the hojo family crest, which in turn is most recognized as being the same as the triforce in legend of zelda.  They are a stylized geometric pattern made to resemble fish or snake or even dragon scales.  They can have some implication of protection or warding, but are also commonly used in theatre costume where it evokes treachery and ambush by association with snakes waiting to strike.  probably meant as a play on his whole hidden sword skill gimmick.

His name reads, Agatsuma[我妻] "My Wife" and Zenitsu[善逸] "Good Evasion."  The latter is obvious but i dont know what to make of that surname.  Maybe a joke about him wanting to take a wife so he won’t die alone.

...

Inosuke’s associated card is the Boar card from the Bushclover/July suit.  His “fabric” is jokingly a non-fabric, as it’s just animal pelts, rather than anything manmade.

Name wise... Hashibira[嘴平] "Flat beak", Inosuke[伊之助] "That, This Assistant."  A pun on the "ino" of inoshishi[猪] meaning "boar," so his name sounds like it would be Inosuke[猪助] "Boar Assistant."  I don’t know what to make of the surname though....

Kanao and the Kocho sisters take their motif from the Butterfly card in the Peony/June suit.  The capes mimicking butterfly wings is pretty obvious but also not really a traditional pattern.  I haven’t gotten too far into their deal yet.

Tsuyuri[栗花落] "chestnut flower drop," Kanao [カナヲ].  I’m not super sure on this one, but chestnuts are probably more iconic for the nut than the flower, and the nut of course falls in its spiny shell.  They are also broadly associated with autumn as seasonal symbols.  I don’t think it was the intention but the use of “chestnut” and “fall/drop” together makes me think of scattering caltrops on the ground to slow pursuers, like a ninja. 

Kocho[胡蝶] is written “Foreign Butterfly” where the character for “foreign” is used in compounds circling around a core idea of “False” or ”Suspicious.”  But historically it can also read as “Barbarian” in reference to a particular time and place in China, but it’s the reason it also means “foreign.”  Either way it means her name can read “Barbarian Butterfly” which is just the coolest mashup of imagery.  Shinobu [しのぶ] is just written phonetically, as was Kanao.

But also Muzan has his motif of western style floral lace in stark juxtaposition to the recognizably japanese styles of most of the hunters.

I do really like the fact that the villain group is numbered according to an old timekeeping method that Japan doesn’t use anymore.  It’s a derivative of the borrowed Chinese time keeping system (which is mirrored by their zodiac cycle) and divides each day into 12 “hours”: 6 of day and 6 of night --a top six and a bottom six, just like Muzan’s 12 demons.

What’s really cool is that these units of time were actually relative to the season and the literal daylight.  So the 6 “hours” were always equal to one another, but the day hours and night hours shifted length inversely to one another during the summer and winter.  When western clocks were introduced via trade with Holland, it didnt take long for the Japanese to develop a unique clock mechanism of their own that let them turn a dial to shift the clock face around according to the season

And speaking of demons.... the fixation on Wisteria also ties back to the April suit in hanafuda, which has a wisteria motif.  There’s a family crest coopted into a design that shows up briefly modified from the Fujiwara family crest.

Anyway, like I said, I’m not super super into the series just yet, but these were just a bunch of little things that jumped out at me as I was going, and that I told myself I’d post about at some point, if i ever managed to hammer out any substantially sized blurbs about it all.  There’s a lot more going on too, even in just the handful of volumes i’ve picked through so far, but not all of it as consistent or reaching across multiple characters as a these were.

[spacesuitsforemergency]

The Rise Of Iron Maiden

Chapter 5: The Return of Iron Maiden

Word Count: 2.9k

Originally Requested by: @amateurwriterbigdreamer

Previous Chapter: Failure to Launch

Next Chapter: Whatever it Takes

A/N: hope y’all don’t mind it from Tye’s POV, it just adds to the story and develops his character. Y/N gets her character arc going too towards the end.

5 YEARS LATER

•

Tye sighed in boredom as he wandered around the halls of the Avengers Compound, his home for 8 years now. He was 21 now, legally an adult. He could’ve gotten his own place 3 years ago, but he felt he would truly be alone if he did that. You lived with your parents and younger sister in the countryside, your dad wanting to isolate you from the hero life. This meant Tye hadn’t seen you for almost two years now, his only friend left was taken from him. He knew Tony didn’t mean any harm, he just wanted his daughter safe, but it still confused him.

Tye was always confused these days. He lived with Natasha Romanoff at the Compound, the only one left that was willing to stay with him. Clint had disappeared off the face of the planet, despite not being taken in the Snap. Tye was lost without his own best friend, Jaime Reyes. Jaime and him stuck together no matter what, and Tye never knew what to do without him. He was confused, on why the world seemed to take everything away from him. His mother, his father, his grandpa, his best friends, his team, his mentors...

“...Will you find out where he's going next?” Natasha asks holographic Rhodey. Tye realized he walked into the meeting room, where Natasha was having her weekly check in with the other teams.

“Nat...” Rhodey trailed off.

“Please.” She took a shaky breath.

“...okay...” Rhodey nodded, saw Tye, then cut off his side of the connection.

Nat started to cry miserably, and Tye didn’t know whether to make his presence known or just leave. He decided on the latter, turning to walk out silently.

“Tye?”

Tye winced, feeling like he was intruding. He turned slowly, a pang of sadness stinging through him when he saw the sorrow in Natasha’s eyes.

“Nat, Uh...Sorry, I didn’t mean to just barge in-“

“It’s okay.” She chuckled, wiping her eyes. “You want some dinner?”

“Uh...no, I’m good.” Tye shook his head, seeing the half eaten PB&J on her desk. “See you’re eating healthy.”

“Oh, what’s the point of keeping up a proper diet anyways?” She laughed, despite the few tears rolling down her face.

“Good point.” He cracked a grin, which she rarely saw the young man do. “So...anything bad happening anywhere?”

“No. Everything seems under control.” Nat shook her head. “Why? You worried about something?”

“It’s nothing, mom.” Tye shook his head. When he didn’t get any response, he looked up from staring at the floor, seeing Natasha staring in surprise at him. “What?”

“You called me mom.” She said, the shock evident in her voice.

“I did? Oh...uh...sorry, I didn’t mean to it just kinda-“ he started to awkwardly walk away.

“No no no!” She stood up, clearing her throat and a smile spreading across her face. “It Uh...you think of me as a mom?”

“I mean...yeah.” Tye mumbled, embarrassed. He wasn’t used to letting his emotions or thoughts be exposed like this. “You practically raised me ever since I got...stuck here. I’ve always looked up to you.”

“That...really?” She smiled wider, tears running down her face again.

“Oh don’t cry! This is sappy enough as it is!” Tye grumbled as Natasha laughed at his reaction. She rounded the desk and pulled him into a hug, Tye stiffening at first. He eventually grew comfortable enough to hug her back, feeling safe in her arms. It reminded him of his mother’s hugs, but somehow Natasha’s were more...genuine. Loving. It was nice. Something Tye wasn’t used to.

“I’ll tell you a secret, kid.” She ruffled his hair as she pulled back. “I’ve always wanted a son, and I am so happy you’re the one.”

“Okay, that’s enough love and affection for one night, Nat.” Tye shuddered, making her laugh again.

“Don’t you mean mom?” She teased.

The mother and son (sort of) whipped around when a hologram popped up, seeing footage of what looked to be a security camera.

“Oh! Hi. Hi! Is anyone home? This is Scott Lang. We met a few years ago, at the airport? In Germany? I got really big, and I had my mask on. You wouldn't recognize me.” Scott Lang, AKA Ant Man waved at the camera.

“Is this an old message?” Tye asked.

“It’s the front gate.” Nat stared in disbelief.

“Ant Man? Ant Man, I know you know that. I need to talk to you guys.” Scott shouted.

Nat typed a few things into a control panel, and the door opened. Scott looked between the camera and the door for a moment before finally letting himself in. Scott found his way to where they were standing, in complete shock. Scott Lang was supposed to be dust right now, along with half the universe.

“Scott? Are you okay?” Tye asked the man, now nervously pacing.

“Yeah. Fine. So you do know me? Or are you just going with the name I gave you?” Scott asked.

“No uh, my friends broke into your house a few years ago. Before the Snap, remember a guy in a spider suit and another in a beetle suit?”

“Right! The Bug Squad!” Scott smiled excitedly. “That was so cool.”

“Scott, focus.”

“Right. Have you guys studied Quantum Physics?”

“Only to make conversation.” Nat said, though neither guy could tell if she was joking.

“Sorry, no.” Tye pursed his lips.

“Alright. So... five years ago, right before Thanos, I was in a place called the Quantum Realm. The Quantum Realm is like its own microscopic universe. To get in there, you have to be incredibly small. Hope, she's my...She was my...She was supposed to pull me out. And then Thanos happened, and I got stuck in there.” Scott explained.

“I’m sorry, that must’ve been a long five years.” Nat said.

“Yeah, but that's just it. It wasn't. For me, it was five hours.” Scott shook his head rapidly. Tye looked at his mom, bewildered.

“See, the rules of the Quantum Realm aren't like they are up here. Everything is unpredictable. Is that anybody's sandwich? I'm starving.” Scott asked, already shoving half of it into his mouth.

“Scott, what are you talking about?” Tye asked, crossing his arms.

“What I'm saying is, time works differently in the Quantum Realm. The only problem is right now, we don't have a way to navigate it. But what if we did? I can't stop thinking about it. What if, we could somehow control the chaos, and we could navigate it? What if there was a way to enter the Quantum Realm at a certain point in time but then exit at another point in time? Like... Like before Thanos.” Scott slowly explained, motioning wildly with his hands.

“Wait, are you talking about a time machine? Like from Back to the Future?” Tye raised his eyebrows.

“No. No, of course not. No, not a time machine. It's more like a... Yeah, a time machine. I know it's crazy. But I can't stop thinking about it. There's gotta be some way...There's gotta be...some w... it's crazy.” Scott rambled.

“Scott, I get e-mails from a raccoon, so nothing sounds crazy anymore.” Natasha scoffed.

“So who do we need to talk to about this?” Scott asked them. Nat and Tye exchanged glances again, both knowing the answer.

•

You tapped your fingers impatiently on your windowsill, looking out the window of your bedroom.

You had received a text from Tye Longshadow for the first time in months, and they were coming to your house. You were sworn to secrecy, so that your dad couldn’t prepare for the attack. You were anxious, wanting to see them so bad.

Your dad had isolated you from anything that had to do with being Iron Maiden. That included a lot of people in your life. You were mad at your dad, for taking you away from what little you had left. You missed Tye, you missed Natasha and Steve, and Rhodey and Dr. Banner. Thor and Clint, even though they weren’t really around anymore. Even Nebula and the rude raccoon. You were forbidden from putting on the Iron Maiden suit, and you didn’t know why you listened to him. You were an adult, you could make your own decisions. Plus, you’d never listened to him before. Maybe you listened this time because the guilt of not listening before the Snap dragged you down. But it also dragged you down as a person. You weren’t as happy or sarcastic anymore, you’d lost the classic Stark Charm™️.

You looked at the photos on your window sill, smiling sadly as you reminisced about what felt like your past life. One photo was you and your team after your first official Avengers permitted mission, all beat up and tired, sitting at a pizza booth. The other was of you and Peter in middle school, holding the first prize ribbon of the science fair. The last was of you and Eduardo, the love of your life. Peter had snuck a picture of you two sitting across from each other at a diner, smiling and looking into each other’s eyes. Your fingers were intertwined in the picture, and all you wanted to do was feel his hand in yours again. To hear his voice in person, not just from old videos. To smell the scent of his fancy cologne. To look into his beautiful, big brown eyes. To feel his lips on yours...

You look up when you see a black Audi pull into your driveway, and you bolt downstairs. Your mother was thankfully working in her office, so you didn’t get scolded for running in the house. You ran down the gravel pathway, passed your dad and little sister, running to your last friend standing. He let you hug him, and to your surprise he hugged you back.

“Good to see you.” You say as you pull away from Tye.

“Yeah, you too.” He nodded.

“You still wear a headband, I see.” You grin teasingly.

“You still haven’t gotten taller, I see.” He retorted.

•

“Now, we know what it sounds like...” Scott trailed off after the heroes explained their (currently) hypothetical plan to you and Tony.

“Tony, Y/N, after everything you've seen, is anything really impossible?” Steve asked. He knew you had taken up your time studying everything, following your father’s footsteps.

“Quantum fluctuation messes with the Planck Scale, which then triggers the Deutsch Proposition.” You mumble, lost in thought.

“Can we agree on that?” Tony asked his fellow Avengers. They all look at each other, clueless. “In Layman's terms, it means you're not coming home.”

“I did.” Scott shrugged as Tony handed them drinks.

“No, you accidentally survived. It's a billion to one cosmic fluke. And now you wanna pull off a...What do you call it?”

“A time heist?” Scott suggested, a goofy grin on his face.

“Yeah, a time heist. Of course, why didn't we think of this before? Oh, because it's laughable? Because it's a pipedream?” Your dad scoffed.

“The Stones are in the past. We can go back and get them.” Tye explained.

“We can snap our own fingers. We can bring everyone back.” Natasha added.

“Or screw it up worse than he already has, right?” Tony raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t believe we would.” Steve said confidentially.

“Gotta say, sometimes I miss that giddy optimism. However, high hopes won't help if there's no logical, tangible way for me to safely execute said time heist. I believe the most likely outcome would be our collective demise.” Tony ranted.

“Not if we strictly follow the rules of time travel. That means no talking to our past selves, no betting on sporting events-“ Tye listed.

“I'm gonna stop you right there, Tye. Are you seriously telling me that your plan to save the universe is based on Back To The Future?” Tony asked his ex-mentee. “God, I’m gone for a couple years and you start saying stupid shit like this?”

“...no.” Him and Scott mumbled in unison.

“Good. You had me worried there. 'Cause that'd be horse shit. That's not how quantum physics works.”

“Tony...We have to take a stand.” Natasha tried to persuade him.

“We did stand. And yet, here we are.”

“I know you got a lot on the line. You got a wife, daughters. But I lost someone very important to me. A lot of people did.” Scott said desperately. “And now, now we have a chance to bring her back. To bring everyone back. And you're telling me that won't even...”

“That's right, Scott, I won't even. I have kids.”

As if on cue, Morgan runs out onto the porch, your dad picking her up.

“Mommy told me to come and save you.” She said shyly, weary of the new faces.

“Good job. I'm saved.” Tony kisses her on the head as he picked her up, before turning back to the heroes. “I wish you'd come here to ask me something else. Anything else. Honestly, I...I missed you guys, it was...Oh, and table's set for seven.”

“Tony, I get it. And I'm happy for you, I really am. But this is a second chance.” Steve tried to reason with him.

“I got my second chance right here, Cap. I can't roll the dice again. If you don't talk shop, you can stay for lunch.” Tony said, and it stung when he didn’t point to you too. You watch him leave, ignoring his orders to come inside.

“I’m in.” You tell them.

“Won’t your dad...?” Natasha trailed off.

“He’s not in control of me.” You shook your head. “If there’s even the slightest chance this will work, I’m in.”

“It’ll definitely work if we have a Stark with us.” Scott grinned.

“Glad to have you back, Iron Maiden.” Steve pat your shoulder.

You smile, not hearing yourself be referred to by that name in such a long time. It made your heart fill with pride, and fueled your determination.

“Y/N Stark.” Tony said from the doorway.

“Don’t leave without me.” You tell them, glaring at your father as you push past him.

“Y/N, where are you going?” Your dad demanded.

“With them.” You spat as he follows you upstairs. “I’m going to try. Unlike you, I have hope.”

“It’s not that I don’t have hope. I just can’t risk any of this.” Tony insisted.

“Any of what? What kind of life is this, dad? Sure it’s great for you, but did you ever stop to look at it from my perspective?” You ask as you grab a bag from under your bed, tossing your photos from the windowsill into it.

“All I’ve ever done is protect you.” Your dad says through his teeth. “Why are you doing this? To get back at me?”

“No dad! I’m doing this because I want everyone back! This is my chance to save everyone! It’s my fault Thanos did this in the first place! If I was stronger, Eduardo would still be here! Peter! Jaime! Bucky! Wanda! The Guardians! Doctor Strange! Sam! Don’t you care about any of them?”

“Of course I care about them! But I care about my family more!”

“They’re my family!” You yell at him, the frustration that you’ve been bottling up for years finally pouring out.

“So that’s it?” Your dad scoffs and shakes his head in disappointment. “What if you screw this up? Huh? What if you make things worse. You’re willing to risk your mother’s life? Your little sisters, for your boyfriend?”

“You know what? Yes.” You snap, zipping your bag up and tossing it over your shoulder. “Not just for him. For everyone. For my life. I want my life back, and apparently that’s something you can’t give me.”

You storm out of your room and down the stairs, seeing Morgan sitting at the table, eating lunch. She grins when she sees you, looking at your bag.

“Where are you going?” She asked as you walked over and kneeled next to her seat.

“I’m gonna go see some old friends for a little bit. Think you can hold down the fort around here?” You ask her.

“Yeah.” She smiled.

“Are you sure? It’s gonna be tough without me.” You tease her. “You’re gonna have to make sure daddy does the laundry right, you know how he always mixes up the soaps. And you have to make sure to save daddy from mommy’s scolding. Think you can take it, soldier?”

“I can take it.” She nodded happily.

“Alright.” You hug her. “Love you, kiddo. See ya later.”

“Bye.” She waved at you until you shut the door, and walked down to the car with the others.

“Iron Maiden and Apache Chief, back again.” Tye fist bumped you.

“Iron Maidens back in the game!” You cheer happily.

“He’s scared.” Natasha said to Steve and Scott.

“He’s not wrong.” Steve shrugged.

“Yeah, but I mean, what are we gonna do? We need him. I mean, we managed one Stark, but we need both. No offense, Ms. Tony Starks Daughter. What, are we gonna stop?” Scott rambled nervously.

“No, I wanna do it right. We're gonna need a really big brain.” Steve shook his head.

“Bigger than his?”

[pastellhunny]

•Under the Red Sky•

Chapter 1. The Introduction

Alastor walked mindlessly down the side walk of a crimson world with an everlasting smile upon his lips. His golden yellow teeth sharp as razors always glaring at passerby's. With all the killing he could do Alastor found himself to be quite bored with things nothing that interesting has happened besides his normal day to day things like talking to Rosie and laughing about the other low life's flooding into hell. That's the thing though instead of evil and tormented petrified souls coming to the place they belong in they're getting fished out like side dishes at an all you can eat buffet. The yearly purge or "cleanse" as it's called due to overcrowding flushes out hundreds upon hundreds of demons every 666 days. Alastors smile stretched as he remembered that the all mighty god and his children orchestrate this event. "How pitiful" Alastor thought to himself. A God who destroys his own misbehaved children by having his well behaved children wipe them out of existence. Ironic maybe..

Alastors thoughts were interrupted by the sound of static and a female voice singing, an annoying sound to him at most, the tv static not the singing. Thanks to his "pal" Vox just hearing the incoherent noises a tv makes in it's void of connection makes him wretch. But still with a smile on his face he turned to the source. Almost instantly demons crowded around the class that guarded the tvs. A flicker of intrigue shined through the red demons florescent eyes as he looked on at the screens. A closer look was indeed needed as the princess of hell herself was beaming upon the screens. Alastor stepped forward his presence alone sent chills down the other demons spines as they swiftly moved away from the radio demon. On the screen the princess of hell seemed to have been promoting that new hotel that was built. yet she was singing about a "happy hotel?" Alastor laughed to himself, "What and absolute sham.." Yet Alastor couldn't shake the feeling of interest the young demoness sparked within him. He certainly couldn't resist after a quite hilarious fight broke out between the princess and one of the demon news reporters. "Oh what a nasty brawl wish i were there in person to see!" Alastor yet again laughed to himself, his mind was made up and his boredom seemed to be quenched, it had found its next source.

Charlie returned back to the hotel which in a sense was her home. Well especially since she lived there after all. After a sh!t show that was the news broadcasts only meant to promote he hotel she felt quite terrible. An overbearing feeling of dread filled her as she suspected her fathers words to be true. Vaggie and Angel were getting into it so charlie just slipped out the front door to make a quick call to her mother. Not that her mother would return it, it just felt nice to at least pretend like someone was listening to her.

Little did she know someone was listening to her. Alastor had arrived at just the right time to see a gleam of dispair shine through the usual happy and giddy princess. A side he figured lingered within her like everyone else but seeing a lady cry never made Alastor happy. Alastor stood proper and prim as he made his way over to the damsel in distress only to have her turn and shut the door on his nose as soon as he reached out to tap her on the shoulder.

Charlie walked back inside and closed the door but not a second later a knock came to the door with the sound of radio static outside. Charlie's eyes widened as she carefully reached for the and opened it to reveal a demon in a red suit and color scheme.

"Hell-" the door closed but charlie's opened it again to make sure what she saw was real.

"lo!-" she closed it again.

"Oh god." she said aloud to herself. She opened the door slowly this time and peered her head around it carefully.

"May i speak now?" the Radio demon said as his smile widened. His eyes lowered to her soft rosy cheeks. "what a sight" Alastor thought.

"Um you may but can i ask are you here to be redeemed?" Charlie asked with a glint of hope and a little smile on her face.

Alastor noticed this little smile it made his eyes soften for a moment before he went back to his usual demeanor. He opened the door with a burst of energy letting himself in. "HAHAHhaha, no ofcourse not my dear!"

Charlie was a bit bewildered, "Then why are you here? Please if you've come to mock me you can let yourself out i know you've probably seen the news anyway." Charlie said as she gestured towards the door with a bit of sadness in her voice.

"What? No ofcourse i don't want to mock you my dear! Why that show was quite entertaining and it's just what i was looking for!" Alastor beamed as he projected his voice enough for the other patrons, aka Angel and Vaggie, to hear.

"Oh yeah and what's that?" Charlie asked referring to what he was searching for.

"Why something to cure my boredom you devilish girl!~" Alastor said whilst spinning round charlie and ending with an arm around her shoulder and his face awfully close to hers

Charlie blushed at the sudden closeness and creeped her way back to her own little bubble. "So you're gonna help with the hotel just cause you're bored?"

"Precisely! Let's call this investment for my entertainment." Al said with a big showy smile on his face once again leaning down to meet charlie's gaze and popping her little personal bubble of space. "I want to watch the scum of the earth and all sinners alike climb the ladder of redemption only to fall back down in the firery pit of failure" Al finished with a red glow in his eyes along with an amused expression at the very thought of it.

"Um Yeah." Charlie brushes off nervously. Just then the other patrons, aka Vaggie and Angel come scurrying you're see who the new person was.

"Oh hey guys." Charlie said with a nervous smile as the tall red demon loomed over her and stared at the other patrons with a sickening smile.

"Oh charlie tell me you did not just make a deal with the radio demon!?" Vaggie blurred out as she drew her spear and pointed it at Al.

"No no relax Vaggie i didn't make any-"

"Unless you'd like to make a deal my dear!" Al quickly proposed as his brow furrowed and his smile widened.

"NO no no deals! Okay?" if charlie knew anything it was to not make any deals with a demon let alone the radio demon himself.

Angel piped in with a little giggle, "What? you scared of this guy. He looks like a strawberry pimp HA!"

Vaggie slapped Angel on one of his arms, "Show some respect he could kill us in the blink of an eye." she said quietly as she gritted her teeth.

A little rumble of static sifted its way through the air around Alastor not before stopping the moment Charlie turn to Al suspiciously.

"Okay so no deals but by the power and status invested in me i hear by ask you to stay and aid the hotel.. for as long as you'd like... and no tricks or voodoo magic or anything got it." Charlie finished as she eyed Alastor up and down.

"You have my word my dear." Al said with an unusually more sinister smile than before. Little did Charlie know his shadow had its claws crossed. Al stood confident as he forged an idea of what exactly he could obtain from this little adventure with the princess. His smile grew ever so widely, his pupils small he had somewhat of a deranged look in his eyes as he realized what he really wanted to do. He laughed to himself quietly as Vaggie and Charlie talked back and forth about their situation. "Those angels will get what they deserve and so will the big man upstairs." and with that thought Al stepped forward and swooped his arm around Charlie as he pulled her forward and away from Vaggie. "Now come my dear enough of this senseless bickering its time to do business!"

(So the rest just follows in suit to what happens in the pilot, like Alastor bringing Nifty and Husk into the whole ordeal.)(to note Charlie and Vaggie are not together in this au but still are really close friends)

A few weeks have passed since Alastor joined the gang. No other demon has showed up to the hotel other than to maybe throw food or make fun of the mere idea of the hotel. Funny thing is even if Alastor has no care for the cause he still scared the living daylights out of anyone trying to tarnesh the hotel and its name. On the outside could be mistaken for Alastors boredom getting the better of him, afterall demon hunting was a fun hobby of his. Yet perhaps it was something deeper than that that kept him around going out of his way to do things for the hotel. Besides what Alastor was plotting, the hotel was rather enjoyable especially when the princess would be around him. He did enjoy her company though and found himself to do things in her favor. Maybe just to please her to get closer to her and his goal or rather something else. Alastor shook away his thoughts when he saw the young princess scurrying around like a madman. "What is she up to?"

Al snuck up behind Charlie as she fumbled around with books looking to be some sort of old phone books.

"My dear may i ask what you're doing?" Alastor said whilst leaning over with a curious grin on his face.

Charlie jumped in surprise, "Oh god you scared me Al"

Al huh a new nickname for him but he didn't appose to the sudden change. He kinda liked how comfortable she was getting.

"I'm just uh sorting through some old phone books to see if i can rent out a place for the hotel" Charlie said as she flipped through pages.

"Space? Don't we have enough of that here! haha" Alastor joked while he spun and gestured to the wide open space of the main area.

"Yes but it's not preferable for dancing." Charlie laughed with a little smile.

A sudden radio blip crackled through Alastor.

Charlie thought to herself "Did that startled him?"

"Dancing? DANCING? Why my dear no need to waste money this room exact is perfect for a ball. Why i'll have this place ready in no time for you my dear-"

Charlie jumped up and put her arms on Als shoulder for just a second then retracted them a little out of fear but just to calm him down. "Hey, hey that's okay look i know we have plenty of room i just don't want the hotel trashed by people who don't even care about it."

Al noticed the sudden jerk of her arms when they retreated. Another blip cracked through him with a little static as he tilted his head to the side with a smile. For a moment Charlie mistook it for sadness in his smile but when she looked again it was gone and back to its normal sinister self.

Alastor hummed in response then took up a few books.

"Hey i need those?" Charlie said with a confused look on her face.

Angel who was passed out at the bar awoke to a giant book being slammed next to his face.

"AGHHHHHHH jeez what'd you do that for smiles?!" Angel cried as he jumped up from his nap.

"Hey you insulant porn star help Charlie look for a dance room or so help me." Alastor threatened as static loomed around him and radio cracks and blips seemed through but this was to no avail.

"Yes sir, i like it when you take charge~" Angel commented with a perverted joke as always and a wide smug smile present on his face.

Alastor pretended he didn't hear that and reluctantly went over to Vaggie. Him and Vaggie haven't gotten along in the slightest since his arrival at the hotel. He glared at her as he handed her the book, Vaggie sneered at him as she took the book from his grasp. And with that Al gave a book to both Husk and Nifty and had the whole hotel staff searching for a place.

⎯

part 2 part 3

[colonel-insomniac]

Heather— Conan Gray

And we are back! sorry for the long wait, i graduated, I’m getting ready to start uni, ive been a little busy. Anyways, read other Spongebob One-shots HERE and if its a while before i release another one, pls read my book The Other Planet HERE because I aim to publish it after rewriting.  "I still remember, third of December, me in your sweater, you said it looked better on me than it did you…" 

Bobby was slumped in a chair, chin resting on an arm that was propped up by a cafeteria table. Prom was a bust, that's really all he had discovered tonight. 

Everyone always says prom is a magical night, and bonds are formed that will never break, and maybe Bobby is being a little over dramatic about this, but this dance turned out to be a total waste of seventy-five bucks. 

Truthfully, he'd wanted to be asked to prom, and by Patrick. But when it became clear that wasn't happening, his mom had insisted he still go, despite his lamenting about not wanting to. She'd promised him that he would later wish he had gone. Bobby supposed it would be better than being sprawled on the couch, watching movies. 

Now, however, all he wished to do was watch movies. Since he'd walked through the doors of the high school gym, Bobby had a flighty feeling gnawing at his insides. And he knew it was heartwarming when Pat walked through the doors with his mom, but he couldn't help wishing he was walking through that entrance with Patrick. 

Bobby had ducked into the bathroom—accidentally into the girls first, where they asked why he looked upset after their initial shock—the boy's bathroom, where he locked himself in a stall, and sat for a couple minutes. 

His heart was beating fast, so he pulled out his phone and played some Subway Surfer's in an attempt to calm down. It was just Pat after all, his best friend for life. There was no reason to be nervous. 

And that's when he wound up at this table. He'd weaved his way through the throng of dancing kids, chatting with a couple of them before moving on. Bobby had managed to catch a couple of glances at Patrick, who was seated at a table with his mom. But they weren’t talking, he was looking around with a frown. 

“Only if you knew, how much I liked you, but I watch your eyes as she walks by…”

Bobby had a sneaking suspicion that Patrick liked Sandy, a really smart Texan. He had no proof of this, of course, besides how much they seemed to hang out these days. Bobby felt bad about that thought. She’s not a bad person, Sandy, that is. She’s really smart, and shes’ pretty, and nice, and all good things. But Bobby had been missing his best friend recently. He’d tried talking to Edward—or Eddie, as Bobby called him, despite Edward’s scowls—but it was evident that the tall, clarinet playing, art adept boy was consumed with work, and consequently had no time to talk. 

Bobby had sat down in the chair he’s now in, spinning stories out of the pattern on the table to keep himself occupied. Even he was aware how pitiful that sounded. Sandy and Edward had come up to him, separately of course, and chatted for a bit each. He’d grinned when Eddie voluntarily sat next to him, but Eddie had made sure Bobby knew he was only talking to him tonight because of how Bobby had been one of the few to treat him kindly. At that, Bobby’s mouth fell open in shock. Eddie was such a fun person to be around in his opinion. He’s going to have to talk with people and tell them how awesome Eddie is. 

Bobby half listens to what Eddie is telling him, nodding his head in agreement as he thinks of how he can help the talented man. Soon enough, Edward decides he’s talked enough, and excuses himself. That’s when Sandy practically leapt out of the almost non-existent shadows, nearly giving Bobby a heart attack. He jumps a little, and Sandy smiles, apologizing for startling him. “You? Scare me? No, no, I was just getting up!” Bobby tries, knowing that Sandy knows it’s a lie. 

“What a sight for sore eyes, brighter than the blue sky, she’s got you mesmerized, while I die…” 

“Mhm, sure.” Sandy gives him a knowing look. “Why are ya camped out here anyhow?” Bobby shrugs, not wanting to explain. “Patrick has been lookin’ for ya, he seems worried ‘bout somethin’.” Bobby looks away, feeling guilty. 

The ever-perceptive girl takes note of the expression on Bobby’s face, and in one motion, pulls out a chair and sits down. Bobby keeps his head tilted towards the table, hoping she won’t want him to talk about it. “Now, what’s wrong Bobby? You’ve been actin’ stranger than a cow dancin’ at a disco rodeo.” Bobby’s eyebrows scrunch together, a little confused by the saying, but then he shakes his head and thinks up a response. 

He shrugs, “Nothing, I just don’t wanna be here anymore.” Sandy’s own eyebrows shoot up, and she asks what he means by that.

“Why would you ever kiss me, I’m not even half as pretty, you gave her your sweater it's just polyester, but you like her better, wish I were Heather…”

Bobby lifts his shoulder again, not sure of what to say or how to say it. He blows air out, watching a strand of his hair float up and fall down again while he thinks. Sandy see the discomfort on his face, and drags him outside, into the quiet. The air out here fills Bobby’s lungs, pleasantly warm. It smells like spring, hope, rebirth, renewal. “Now talk.” She orders, and he has no choice but to admire her persistence. 

“I kinda like Pat.” It’s a low whisper, and Sandy’s face brightens. Bobby frowns. “What’re you smiling about?” 

Sandy quickly irons out her face, assuring him that there’s nothing going on, gesturing for him to continue. “But I think he likes you, not me.” Bobby stares hard at a tree, watching as the moonlight pokes through the holes in the leaves. 

Sandy makes a sound in the back of her throat, and Bobby can’t quite place an emotion to the sound. “He’s a great guy, I would know, I did spend the past 17 years of my life with him.” Bobby continues, turning to Sandy and plastering a bright, fake smile on his face as he grabs her hands. “Pat’s a lot of fun to be around, he’s also really soft.” Bobby stares up and away from Sandy, trying to keep his emotions under control. 

“Bobby, you’ve got it all wrong—” Sandy starts, and Bobby numbly thinks how she does look pretty ethereal right now, and kinda all the time. How could someone not like her?

“Watch as she stands with her holding your hand, put your arm 'round her shoulder, now I'm getting colder…” 

“Trust me, Sandy, it’s okay. If you like him too, you should tell him. You guys will…have a lot of fun together.” He’s trying to work himself up to be happy. He should be happy for the two anyways. 

He hardly hears himself as he continues on, rambling, Sandy watching him with eyes that keep getting wider. It’s when he’s starting to turn to go back inside, and turning her too, that Sandy seems to snap out of her shock, and grabs Bobby’s shoulders. “Listen Bobby,” Bobby opens his mouth to ask something, confused, but Sandy shakes her head, so he nods. “You gotta trust me on this one. Pat doesn’t like me. I know who he likes, and this person is at this party. Patrick’s plannin’ on tellin’ them tonight, so you oughta at least go and see him.” Bobby shakes his head, once, before Sandy frowns at him. “He’s itchin’ to talk to you, been missin’ you all night, and y’all are both actin’ pretty dang stupid.” Bobby’s too confused, puzzling over that last part, and before he can protest it, Sandy’s grabbed his hand, and drags him inside. 

“But how could I hate her? She's such an angel, but then again, kinda wish she were dead, as she walks by, what a sight for sore eyes, brighter than a blue sky, she's got you mesmerized, while I die…”

“Sandy…” That’s all Bobby can get out. The cold of the air condition raises goosebumps on his arms, and okay, maybe that isn’t the only reason. Because now, he’s going to be face to face with Patrick, and only Sandy knows why she’s doing this. 

He didn’t think he was wrong though, about Patrick liking Sandy. But now that she’s said that it isn’t her, Bobby feels almost like he’s been thrown into an existential crisis. His stomach clenches, and he desperately tries to stall by any means necessary, but Sandy doesn’t buy any of the excuses he’s giving her. She just tells Bobby to trust him and keeps moving. 

Bobby sees Pat sitting with his mom. His back is towards Sandy and Bobby, but he nods his head at whatever his mom says. Sandy deposits Bobby in a corner, and tells him to “wait there and don’t move,” before making her way over to the pair. 

He debates slipping away, now that Sandy’s back is turned, but he’s frozen instead, helplessly watching the scene unfold in front of him. From what he can see, Sandy puts a hand on Pat’s shoulder, greeting his mom, who smiles at her. Patrick’s looking up at her, and she briefly addresses him before pulling him up. Bobby’s heart is beating wildly in his body, and he swallows as Sandy brushes off the shoulders of Pat’s suit before leading him toward Bobby. 

“Why would you ever kiss me? I'm not even half as pretty, you gave her your sweater, it's just polyester, but you like her better, I wish I were Heather…”

Patrick catches sight of Bobby before the pair is in front of him, and Bobby finds himself mesmerized by Patrick. When they stop, Sandy waits for a beat or two, and exits, aiming a pointed glance at Bobby, the meaning of which he is able to immediately decipher. She’s telling him to confess. That thought sends him into a state of panic, and he blushes, not sure what to do or say. 

“Hey.” Is the first thing to come out of his mouth, and he considers literally face-palming. Instead, however, Bobby watches Patrick’s face scrunch up. 

“Why have you been ignoring me?” Bobby flinches at the emotion underneath the question. He never meant to hurt Patrick, never thought he was.

But now he knows better. “I thought you liked Sandy, I was trying to stay out of the way so you could tell her.” Pat looks taken aback by Bobby’s confession. 

“I don’t….” Pat starts to say something, but trails off, looking slightly confused. 

Bobby breathes in, stomach knotting and unknotting over and over as he debates saying it. He closes his eyes. “I like you.” Those three words stop everything. Bobby’s mind goes still, and he knows it’s impossible, but he swears it feels as though his heart has stopped. 

His hands drop to his sides—funny, he didin’t remember lifting them to begin with— and looks to the side, away from Patrick. He struggles—and fails—to keep a couple of tears from escaping, and he brushes them off, sniffing. “It’s okay, though. You should talk to the person you like.” He starts to back away, back hitting the wall behind him.

“Wish I were Heather, wish I were Heather…”

“Bobby, you should’ve told me—” Pat starts, grabbing the shorter of the two and wraps his arms around Bobby. “I was trying to figure out how to tell you that I liked you.”

  Bobby’s confused. Patrick likes him? “Wait what?” Bobby smartly asks. Patrick breathes in, and exhales before responding. Bobby supposes he’s thinking about what to say. 

“I like you too. I’ve been hanging out with Sandy to get advice on how to tell you. I–we—eventually decided I should do it tonight, at prom.” Bobby doesn’t realize how tightly he’s holding onto Patrick, he’s too focused on listening to what’s being said.

He breathes in, and is surrounded by the scent of Patrick, Hot Topic’s Sugar Cookie scent. Bobby knows Pat would never admit to shopping there, so around the holidays, when they release the scent, Bobby buys a ton for Pat just in case he should run out. “I would never just stop hanging out with you.”

“Why would you ever kiss me? I'm not even half as pretty…”

“Sorry,” Bobby mutters, knowing Pat will hear it. “I should’ve asked if everything was alright instead of assuming and hiding. Especially since we've been best friends since birth." 

                  Patrick shakes his head, and after a minute, both feel as though the hug has branched into the awkward category. 

     Bobby decides it's probably rude to not say hi to Patrick's mom, and when he brings that up to Pat, his best friend (who likes him back?) offers an arm with a goofy grin. Bobby takes this in stride, placing his hand on the inside of Patrick's elbow, trying to match with an equally enthusiastic grin. The pair set off towards the table Mrs. Starr is sitting at, finding Sandy chatting with her. 

     "Hey Mrs. Starr! Hey-a Sandy." Bobby leans down to hug Patrick's mother. 

     "Bobby and I were gonna dance." He tugs Bobby over to the floor, and Bobby waves at the two, sending a smile their way. 

     "Pat, I can't dance." Bobby mutters, but he wraps his arms around Patrick's neck anyways. In return, the taller of the two places his hands at Bobby's waist, tentatively, as though not sure whether Bobby was fine with it. 

     The contact sent a shiver down Bobby's back, stepping closer to Patrick. "Sure you can, anyone can dance, really." Patrick snorts softly, and Bobby elects to leave the matter, leaning his head on Pat's shoulder. 

   "You gave her your sweater, it's just polyester..."

     "So," Pat begins saying something, and Bobby peacefully listens. "Would you like to go with me tomorrow and get ice cream in the park?” Bobby leans away, playfully grinning at Pat. 

“Is that a date?” Bobby laughs a little, knowing the answer already. Pat punches Bobby lightly on the shoulder. 

“You know it is.” Bobby can’t resist leaning up on his toes and placing a chaste kiss on Patrick’s cheek. When he pulls back, he’s delighted to see the faint pink blush on his companion’s cheek. 

And if anyone were to ask him, he definitely did not squeal when Patrick picked him up and spun him around. 

“But you like her better, wish I were…”

[paradigmaticsims]

18th Century Pleasantview: Unhappy Marriages

Ok, that’s not really fair two of them are not necessarily unhappy but they’re not based on romantic love. This is just me setting up the same kind of thing the game tells you to do, but hopefully after that I will do more different things with these sims.

This post is like, really long, too long, its stupidly long.

......

I know I said I would go to Pascal Curious next, but then I thought of how glorious it would be to see Daniel Pleasant in a powdered wig and how could I deprive anyone reading of that?

This shot is not historical, just kinda cool looking. I will take that swimming pool away from you Daniel…. When I can be bothered to makeover the house.

So Daniel has the affair with Kaylynn and all that, Mary-Sue finds out.

Daniel apparently didn’t want that to happen and goes into aspiration decline. They’re staying together though, cause divorces are difficult for women to get and I think it’ll be more interesting this way.

Cassandra and Angela enjoying the stereo while they still can.

Then Angela and Lilith start fighting and Cassandra just keeps dancing awkwardly like the useless lesbian she is.

Now featuring proper underwear, Daniel is balding underneath the wig.

Lilith has ANGST! Which I mean, I don’t disbelieve her, her family is in shambles.

Angela and Dustin’s first kiss

Lilith sneaking out with her son of an artist bf: Lol Angela would never do this.

Me: I mean Angela’s dating a peasant (and in my mind a revolutionary) so I actually think she wins.

Lilith sneaks back and Daniel is like, right there, but they just blank each other. I guess he can’t really lecture anyone right now.

..........

Onto the Goths now! I’m in the process of actually caring about making over their house.

I like the piano shots.

Cassandra and Don’s wedding (but it’s a sham marriage that they’re both in on). I forgot I must once have had a hack that makes sims wear their formalwear instead of the default wedding gear?

Ahh I figure out how to force them into their formal wear too late, so hear is Cassandra’s ironic wedding dress, and Don’s frock coat. Mortimer and Alexander dancing is cute.

Don, Don, Don, Don… DON we have multiple baths on this lot. You married a rich sim you no longer have to wash like a poor person…. in the kitchen... in view of everyone.

Don: Hey I married a rich sim, this means I can have a sponge bath in the bathroom… wait bath what?

I like the piano, piano shots are cool.

Oh hey Don finally figured out the bath! Good for him.

This is cute, Don tucking in Alexander.

Here’s my attempt so far of trying to Georgify the Goth house, while maintaining an old and creepy vibe. I probably don’t know enough about 18th century houses but who cares it’s not like there’s enough cc out there to make it accurate to within the 1790s or something so close enough is good enough.

Cassandra embarrassed by her father marveling at the fact that rain exists.

I want to use colours in the interior design! But still colours that are unusual, or a bit sickly, something to show that the Goths are still weird.

Don is bi cause I think that makes him easier to like. He thinks the butler’s hot.

Cassandra: And once day we’ll have a baby, we’ll give it toys, and play with it and give it all the attention a child needs.

Alexander, an actual child who exists in the here and now: Wooo! Look at me I got an A+ I crave attention!

Everyone: *ignores*

..........

Random scene from the Broke house.

This will only make Dustin more acab.

..........

At Nina and Dina’s house:  I forgot the burglar’s sack uses cartoon logic and is thus able to carry hot tubs.

Mortimer is awake while this happens, but just decides to dip instead. I guess when you’re rich you don’t care about poor people’s problems, even if you are dating courting one of those poor people.

Dina goes into full on meltdown over this, I don’t usually play fortune sims so I underestimated how much it would affect her.

Dina’s memory of this trauma inducing event is just ‘nice to meet you stranger’

MOOD

I wish this guy spawned in a different hood, so I could just leave his magnificent hipster aesthetic be.

..........

Back at the Goths and unfortunately my game crashed when I was playing the Goths before they hired a butler, so this time we get a new guy and he looks fun. (I would like an 18th century butler outfit default, that would be a cool thing that I have no idea how to do).

Mortimer I know you might not be the most social ques aware guy, but talking about the hotness of your new fiancé to your daughter is weird, just fyi.

To my great disappointment Don is not attracted to the new butler, which I do not get, Don are you seeing this?

I see Cassandra as being mostly gay and their marriage as mostly a sham, but she is at least bi enough to initiate trying for baby this one time. Cause sexuality on sims and in reality is more fluid and complicated than we give it credit for. Though I think she mostly just wants the baby cause maxis inexplicably made her a family sim. She’s the sims version of Wednesday Addams and they made her goal to get married and have babies? I do want her to have one kid for the sake of inheritance, but after that I’m making her a knowledge sim. Anyway despite all that I think this is a pretty picture.

I love the custom greetings.

Dina and Mortimer’s wedding, during the day and at the Goth house, cause it makes no sense for Mortimer to move in with Dina and Nina in their tiny house, wouldn’t Dina want to move in with Mortimer in his big old money house? I think she would. Plus her being in the same house with Cassandra and Don makes for maximum awkwardness.

Dina: Hey congrats on your hotness! Meanwhile Cassandra is applying far too much logic to be interesting to Nina.

Don and Cassandra have an open marriage with no jealousy set for both of them. Even so Nina just openly serenading Don right in front of Cassandra does seem a bit tactless.

On his own wedding day all the young people just ignore Mortimer.

Nina and Dina get to a point in the grief cycle where they feel it necessary to bad mouth the burglar.

Don asking the important questions: But did you… have sex with the burglar?

I forgot that reading kids to sleep was a thing you could do in game. This is cute.

Maybe Don and the butler were just meant to be bros.

The ‘Legacy Career’ is just a living off an inheritance. I 100% believe this is how rich people operate.

Cassandra, starting with how your Mum got abducted by aliens is probably not the best way to impress a girl. You ease into that.

Cassandra, who is pregnant, wet herself and then passed out and apparently these were things she was scared of so much that she hits aspiration failure. And I’m here to say that is just way too high a standard to be setting for yourself. Also the butler served people beer as food which is the real problem rn.

I like this picture, I don’t know why there’s not food when there is, but I like it. Don should get a new coat.

Look at these three queer, and mostly pregnant disasters.

I made over the butler, I took some liberties, but I mean he’s blue. I imagine he used to be a pirate. Don, I don’t understand you.

But at least he has learnt the ways of the bath.

The end. Now I have to see if I can fix some bugs.