#so I am absolutely flying blind here

[spilledkaleidoscope]

Activation Energy and Executive Dysfunction

A bunch of people (with executive dysfunction I assume) reacted a little disheartened to how I described the phenomenon.

The gist is that I used activation energy, a concept from chemistry, as a model for how executive dysfunction can keep you from doing things. Activation energy is the minimal energy that has to be available for any chemical reaction to occur and that amount is specific to every reaction.

Executive Dysfunction to me means, that this activation energy is always high, even for tasks other people experience as spontaneous reaction (yes the amount of ae and spontaneity of a reaction are not connected necessarily but bear with me here). A good example is showering or feeding yourself or sometimes getting up from the couch.

The tricky thing here is that the energy put into trying to reach activation energy is still *expended*, so while it might seem like nothing happens, you still get drained, making it harder to reach activation energy levels.

So what can we do?

In synthesis, if your activation energy is too high you basically can do two things: you either add a catalyst, or you find a different way to get to your result altogether.

The latter can be choosing a simpler recipe to feed yourself, graze on random items without making a meal until you are full or ordering food for example.

This is not always possible, but it *is* worth thinking about. An example from my life would be that I open my mail outside at the trash bins and immediately discard what I don't need because otherwise, I have paperstuff flying around my appartment that I don't get rid of.

"Weird" is not something that should factor in here. Make it functional and helpful.

The catalyst is my favourite solution however, and I can give you some tips here that you can *immediately* use. I won't know if they work for you, but they do for me (sometimes! be kind to yourself).

CATALYSTS AGAINST EXECUTIVE DYSFUNCTION

Have your tasks broken down: when you have energy, make sure that the thing on your to do list is something you can *actually* physically immediately do. Don't write "make reservation", but "call restaurant" along with the number. Not "clean kitchen" but "move dishes to sink" etc

Doorway Effect: The Doorway effect describes that silly thing that, when we cross a boundary, we sometimes feel like we've been soft reset ("what was I going to do?"). A hypothesis for why this happens can be that it helps our brain create separate contexts which then aids memory creation. What it can do for you is that it is an easy way to change context, which then frees you up to start something new more easily. Try it! Physically go through a doorway or open a different window on the computer, sometimes that is enough.

Costuming: Similar to the Doorway Effect, we are changing context in a low effort way here. Concentrate on putting on your shoes instead of taking out the trash or put on some rubber gloves if you plan on cleaning. Might be enough. Sometimes putting on mascara is enough for me to go "oh I am out of couch potato mode now"

Move! Put yourself where you need to be to tackle your task. That can already help.

Pressure: This can be done by setting a timer that will go off soon. Challenge yourself to get up and go before it rings - might stress you into inaction sometimes, but it can be helpful. I love visual timers for this as it helps with my time blindness

Prepare! If you are in a state of flow and have energy to spare *use it*. This includes breaking down your task as already described but also preparing your space - this can be a cleaned up desk or a caddy with cleaning supplies in a prominent spot.

And my absolute favorite: Throw a dice. When it is really bad, one thing I can always do is throw a dice (via an app, typing "d20" into the search bar or physically having one on me - which I usually do now). I tell myself that if I "make the roll" I get up and do it and if I don't, I try again in 20 minutes. This changes context easily, removes responsibility from me and makes the whole thing playful. I usually go with a d20 and tell myself to get going with a result over 10. If I have a particularly bad day I might need 15+ to do something. Just try it.

In short, what we are trying to do is

minimize friction by frontloading as much thinking and preparing as we can

make a context change as easy and small as possible

And remember: the goal is never to Always Be Doing Something.

[peachetteprice]

Driving Habits | TF141

Disclaimer: Some of these are UK specific, including the style of car, manoeuvres, terminology, and gearbox. That's what happens when the boys live and work mostly in England! Also, I am almost taking my practical test in September, and I need to rant about certain habits. Sorry in advance to Soap and Ghost. Love you both, boys.

Credit to @soaps-mohawk for giving me the inspiration to explore this headcanon! It began with an exploration into what cars TF141 might drive! You can see the original post that inspired this here.

+ Including interactions when driving with an S/O!

Captain John Price:

Notorious one-handed driver. The other hand is either on the gearstick - just resting, contemplating - or mediating between the gearstick and your thigh. He loves a good reverse bay park. (He's an absolute beast at it, too. No need for minor adjustments. He just... knows the space. And he will make fun of you when you can't park as perfectly as him). Helps to get the shopping in better, because at least you can get to the boot! Has been known to swerve a little bit for birds in the road, but that's because he's an avid watcher, and the poor things get enough grief as it is - he wants to still be able to watch Robins and Thrushes in the trees on the weekend!

He does, however, neglect rabbits, foxes, badgers, squirrels, and rats. And the... occasional deer in Scotland? Not out of malice - not at all - but they're not worth swerving over and potentially causing a collision for. He might, only if you're with him - because you'll squeal if he doesn't and positively become harrowed by its body popping beneath the rear tyre - but it's much safer for a driver to simply ram it into the gravel than to mess around with the safety of himself, other drivers, and - of course - you.

Takes extra care around vehicles with stickers that denote that the occupants of said vehicle - bar the driver or secondary passengers - are animals or children. He will be extra sure to check his mirrors, touch on the brakes if need be, and will actively scan for dangerous drivers that he can shield the car from. His duty is to protect, after all, in whatever capacity.

That being said, in his youth, he was known to drive... a little faster than required. Only on country lanes does he still retain some of his more... reckless habits. He may go a touch too fast around corners, and ignore the chevrons that indicate the severity of a turn (one arrow, two, three), and if the road opens up to a sprawling range, whereby speed control for tight corners and blind junctions is not an issue, he will... perhaps... occasionally - only rarely if you're in the car with him - let her rip.

But those roads are his home, that's all!

Begrudgingly drives your shuddering little Fiat 500 or itty bitty Hyundai i20 (hey, what do you mean, tiny, it's perfect for the city, John! Pay no mind if your boys giggle and point when you turn up at the base in it...), though much prefers the Triumph Spitfire, 1979, mint-condition, that he bought in 2008 for three grand and fixed up over a ten-year period (when he wasn't deployed, that was) which is now worth £18,000. That is his profit! But he won't let another soul touch it, drive it, or so much as look at it - unless it's you, on a good day - until the day he dies. It's in stunning condition, but God help you if you reverse into the driveway without him watching like a hawk, wiggling his hand as if it were the paddle of an aeroplane conductor, telling you to move closer to the wall and risk scratching your car just to protect his darling baby. It... oh no... it might be the only thing he loves more than you...

Lieutenant Simon "Ghost" Riley:

Always, always, always over-revs the engine to get out of a junction. He can't help it! He's used to manoeuvring through rough terrain with a car the size of a military tank - he's bound to forget to treat a normal car with a normal amount of strength. He comes flying into and out of roundabouts for that exact reason! He has to get on and off them quickly enough - don't you know, they're deathtraps, they are!

He's also prone to checking his side mirrors and rear view mirror an inordinate amount of times for a twenty-minute pop to the shop. He is convinced that the Kia Sportage behind him is right up his tail - he's sure it's stalking you in the passenger seat, especially with your bumper stickers on the rear, the nasty perverts - no matter how many times you explain to him that the mirrors are convex! They will make everything seem closer than they truly are! Now, however, he does not and will not ever brake-check a car, but he will sure as hell give them the dirtiest stare if they decide to overtake him... or until they back off a few more feet behind you.

You'll never forget the day that he wrenched the handbrake up way too high, and you had to get your father to re-tighten it. You're sure there aren't any more notches he can lift it to. You're rarely ever on a hill that warrants it. He'll crank it up six times just to stop at the traffic light before the Tesco. It's bloody Tesco! It's not Mount Kilimanjaro!

The poor man gets impatient at lights. He does. And crossings, too. Train, tram, pedestrian, any and all of them. Despises them all. He'd rather a set of traffic lights for people to cross at, than have those silly zebra, pelican or toucan markings along the road that he has to pray Grandma Doris won't divert her walking cane in its bilateral direction. Oh, and he bounces his leg like there's no tomorrow. Again, he can't help it! He isn't used to waiting in cars. He's used to tumbling down roads in Middle Eastern deserts as the crow flies. None of those silly turns and re-routes into estates because he took the wrong turn at a junction. He wouldn't have messed up had he had time to think! Had there been no traffic! And, oh, Christ, the traffic. Simon does not like traffic. He does illegal U-turns as soon as he sniffs there being a road closure - that's how much he dislikes waiting!

Sergeant John "Soap" MacTavish:

Never gets the bite point consistently. Never gets the damn bite point. Always too low or too high. He doesn't over-rev it like Ghost does, but the amount of times he stalls the bloody car, thinking he's in another one of those tank-sized vehicles that has a brand-spanking new bite point - or dare he say, an automatic gearbox that doesn't even require a clutch - is incalculable. You'd think the man has only just learnt to drive!

Notoriously speeds through built-up areas. Often commits to doing 45mph in a 30mph zone. Only when there isn't anyone around, like at nighttime! He consistently zooms past speed cameras in his BMW. His poor 3L engine is just too powerful for those dinky little roads. And, promise, he doesn't do it on purpose! He just routinely forgets to glance at his speedometer (and his mirrors, but that's another issue), and he drives for himself and himself only. In fact, he often hums to himself and forgets you're even there, beside him, clutching onto the internal handle on the roof in case he veers too suddenly to either side. His object permanence doesn't prevail unless he has one hand on your inner thigh, and if he doesn't, well, you can kiss safe driving habits goodbye.

Alright, that isn't to say he's an... unsafe driver. He's only slightly inconsiderate. He brakes too harshly, too late, too suddenly, he coasts on the clutch around corners, he never feeds the steering wheel, and he sometimes forgets to check his mirrors before turning into a junction (but he's never T-boned a cyclist... yet... you can give him a tick for that one). But he hums and whistles a nice tune to himself - he prefers it to the radio, and that's not to say he prefers quiet so he can hear the sound of the engine, no, no... never... not at all - and he always makes an overt point to note every field of cows, sheep (especially horses!) as well as every cat he sees lurking along the pavements. Never dogs. Doesn't like the bastards. Got bit once. That was enough to turn him right off.

(Oh, and he always sits on the brake. And bite + gas. The handbrake is too cumbersome, and his feet are strong enough, Goddamnit!)

Sergeant Kyle "Gaz" Garrick:

Beautiful driver. Test-accurate. He could re-take it today and pass with flying colours. What a brilliant driver. The only bad habit he's picked up is driving with one hand (he tends to bite his fingernails on the other when he drives - helps with the stress of commuting in London), and never feeding the steering wheel through his hands. He does the wipe-on, wipe-off manouvre, mostly because he looks hot when doing it, though he tries not to. Mama Garrick always swats his hand whenever he does it because that's how drivers get into accidents, baby!

Car-shares with his mother, whether it's in her duck-egg blue Kia Picanto or his lime green Ford Fiesta - it has failed its MOT three bloody times, and he's revived that girl from death's vice grip more times than he can count, it has the mileage of a postal worker in the 1700s, nearing 200k - but this gentleman always remembers to bring the seat forward and upright after he's finished using it, so that her feet can touch the pedals, and to, naturally, reduce her back pain. He does the same with the headrest, too, because if there's anything he cares about more than his job, it's the safety of his family and friends!

Tends to drive on the cautious side. The only minor fault he'd get in a test would be hesitance because he simply doesn't trust any other driver but himself. His mother drilled that into him. She said that there's nothing worse than watching a car flash its headlights and signal you to go, with caution, as always, because the flash is not universal for 'go', only to pull in front of you and trigger you to emergency brake. Or, God-forbid, a pedestrian puts their hand up at you before they've even crossed the bloody road, and he has to slam on the brakes like he's Speedy Gonzalez at a traffic light. Lordy Lord.

Never mind the fact that he waits too long at pedestrian crossings because there could be somebody shrouded by that tree on the corner there. Do you see it? Over there! No, behind the sign, love! There could be someone - oh, whatever. He has to wait to make sure it's clear - otherwise, Grandma Doris is getting bumped in the legs and thrown fifty feet along the road! And he cares about the elderly!

Always nervously bites the insides of his cheek at roundabouts. Which is the most bewildering part of all, because he's so good at them! He always signals onto the roundabout. Never cuts lanes. Always follows directions perfectly, and if he doesn't, well, I guess you're taking a different route until you can turn around in a safe place. He always signals off the roundabout, too - even at mini-roundabouts - but he'll scrunch his face up every time, huff, and mutter:

"Yeah... botched that one."

...Regardless of how many times you tell him that he's a gorgeous driver! It's sexy, too, how he abides by the Highway code and gives way to more cars than he really should - no, except he really should stop doing that, actually, they're starting to take advantage of his kindness and he doesn't realise it - and how he's so... so... so fucking smooth with gear transitions. Going from stationary to a comfortable 20mph? He'll pop that sucker so fluidly into third (or second, if it's his mum's car) with such prowess that you barely notice the engine take the gas he's giving it. There's no jolt between first and second. He plays those gears like he's bowing a violin. How delicate his fingers are. How gentle his touch. It's mesmerising to watch.

Gaz even brakes in ample time, and you thought he couldn't be more perfect! That's what really gets you going - he gives the car behind him just the right amount of time to slow down that it's almost a waltz, and he's the conductor of traffic. Though... maybe don't let him get trapped at a stalemate on a mini-roundabout where all cars are turning left and are subsequently blocked by the need to give way to the right... his poor brain will short-circuit! If he does, give him a pat on the thigh and let him wait for someone else to make the first move - he hates decision-making when he's off-duty.

And, you're about ready to give him your hand in marriage when you notice that every time he comes to a stop - on a hill, at a traffic light, in crawl traffic, waiting to turn into a junction, he puts the handbrake on, then takes his foot off the foot brake, then knocks the gearstick into neutral, then takes his foot off the clutch, and waits patiently like the darling man he is. Unlike someone else, he never sits on the brake...

Bonus Round - Road Rage!

Captain John Price:

Road Rage? You mean, showing a healthy amount of anger and vigour towards a bloody idiot driver? You mean... baring his teeth and swatting a hand at them, occasionally honking the horn past eleven-thirty, even if people are sleeping, or pulling out one of his anger-insurance cigars? That's what road rage is? Well... Christ, he must be terrible for it. Don't tell his boys that... they think he's the most level-headed man on base.

Lieutenant Simon "Ghost" Riley:

He's slightly oblivious to the technique of cars around him. He drives like he's the only driver in the world, because usually he is - except for those fuckers behind you who won't back off - but if something does happen, and if it isn't too much of an issue, he'll grunt, clench his teeth, grip the steering wheel and let out a muttered 'bastard'. If, however, something really irritates him - especially if another car puts you in danger - he'll honk the horn and flail his hand at the windscreen in the hopes that the driver sees his frustration (even if you're the one driving, he'll reach over and honk the pad for you, even though you've told him not to!)

Sergeant John "Soap" MacTavish:

Well... he certainly knows a lot of Gaelic, doesn't he, your boy? You've hardly a monkey's bottom of what he's saying, but the vitriol in which he says it - he's not known for bottling his anger very well - makes it clear to you that he needs a hug and de-tox before bedtime. If the accused does anything on the defensive or antagonistic, he has been known to pull up beside them on a two-lanes-go-straight-on road marking, even if it isn't the right way to your destination, just to glare at them and give them the... stern finger. Maybe... maybe a word or two about precious cargo.

Sergeant Kyle "Gaz" Garrick:

Gaz is a simple guy when he's off-duty. He will sigh, tut, shake his head, and mumble 'nutter', or a very hushed 'oh, you absolute...' (bonus: he never finishes his sentence!) It's what his mum does! If another car puts you in danger, he may groan and roll his eyes - but he always asks if you're okay as soon as, and apologises for the sudden violence of his attitude! What a sweet man.

| Masterlist |

[hinamie]

i normally don’t contribute much of my opinions on chapter content n themes bc a. i think my role in fandom spaces is that of a fanartist and I want to keep my art at the forefront, and b. I am Insecure about how little of the manga I have actually consumed and don’t think I have a solid foundation on which i can offer any coherent arguments or insight. generally I like to leave the long meta 2 people who have been genuinely invested in delving into the manga with the intent of analyzing it . y'all do gods work u are the reason i am not flying through this series completely blind

that being said, i am not here to give criticism on pacing or story cohesion bc quite simply, that is not my wheelhouse. i do, however, want to offer my 2 cents on the concept of choosing to live for others as someone who (like a lot of people is the vibe i’m getting) also struggles w depression and self-worth issues and sees aspects of themselves in megumi as a result. i want to reiterate tht this is not an analysis, these r just my gojo voice personal feelings n u r allowed 2 feel differently based on your own experience :)

let me just say first of all that I can 100% empathize with people wanting to see megumi choose to live fr himself after a lifetime spent in a system notorious fr stripping people of their agency and turning them into tools. i think in a perfect world he Does come to the realization that he’s worth living for. but i also think that him /not/ having crossed that bridge yet is also a very valid n realistic outcome. he's a kid, he's just had the worst experience of his life, he's traumatized and then some -- i only have a bachelor's in psychology and god knows i'm no doctor but personally i wouldn't call that a mental space where self-love is likely to stick

it’s hard to claw yourself out from rock bottom. to expect someone to immediately be able to make the transition from being in the worst mental state of their life to realizing that they are worthy as a person is a tall order that i honestly don't think many people wld b able to fulfil. /I/ certainly haven’t been, and living for others has honestly been what’s kept me going for a long fucking time. even when I’m not necessarily at a low point, I still rly struggle w liking myself n thinking i’m a good person, but what’s been a genuine lifeline fr me when i can't love myself is to direct that love Outwards. If nothing else I know that I have things I can create, and things I can offer others. I've spent countless hours forcing myself to acknowledge that, no matter how much i don’t believe them, if the people around me insist that they see something of value in me or in my work; something tht makes them love me Despite, then that alone is worth staying alive for.

i personally (although i can see how others wld disagree) don’t view the 'living for others' frame of mind as waiting for someone to save you, but rather as holding out hope that there is More out there than your own self-loathing will let you believe. For megumi, it wld seem that his something more was the people he cares about. Yuuji gave him the agency to choose whether or not to keep living, and megumi made that decision of his own accord, which fr someone at their absolute lowest is still a huge achievement! there was agency in that decision, there was selfishness--regardless of the underlying motivation it proved that he /wants/ to live. little side note but i think that megumi Making a selfish decision to live for others' sake should also give a bit of hope that he does have it in him to eventually be able to b equally selfish in the value he places on himself.

anyway that's what i got source: i'm depressed . n look i get that with so little of jjk left, it Is frustrating that we probably Won't see megumi come to the conclusion that he's worthy and that he should live for and love himself. but at the same time i don't think that his decision to keep living for others should b condemned either, bc as someone who has also yet to cross that bridge, sometimes that rly is the first step

[demonpiratehuntress]

hi hello dearie, hope this finds you well <3 i’ve been reading some of your Ace content for DAYS cuz is ABSOLUTELY MAGNIFICENT and i have a hyperfixation for the man.

i have this oddly specific request if you’re taking requests ofc asksnakxm

ace and the reader meet each other when he saved her from potentially being killed by some random ruthless and murdering pirate, she was in that situation because he had killed some of her friends but that’s not the issue AKSNWKSB the thing is she gets mad because Ace saved her so she said sum “i was content with the fact that i was going to die, i didn’t need your saving” and he’s just stunned cuz? he just saved her???? two days later she thanks him but she tries to escape many times from the ship and those many times Ace ruined her plans so after a week of trying she gives up. THEN two years later they confess their feelings for each other after a day of Ace following her like a puppy and teasing her nonstop until she gives in

ODDLY SPECIFIC IM SO SORRY 😭😭 but it’s okay if you can’t do it <3

hi! thank you so much 😊 also im so so sorry this took so long! I've just been really busy! but i hope you enjoy this! to everyone else, i am still working on the other requests! i have much more than i realised 😂 but i will get them out...eventually

taglist - @kabloswrld

stubborn

Portgas D. Ace x F!Reader

summary - the ask above! :)

warnings - mild angst

Run.

That's all you could think of, all you could do. There was no time or space to do anything else, and your body had already kicked into the fight-or-flight response. You weren't sure how far you could get, but you were desperate to get away.

The gory images of your friends lying sprawled out on the ground, drenched in blood, made itself a home in your mind. You would never be able to forget that, no matter how hard you tried. Swallowing back a sob, you sprinted towards the town as fast as your tired legs could carry you.

"Where do you think you're going, huh?"

A solid wall of muscle slammed into you from the side and sent you flying. You hit an actual wall with a sickening crunch, pain erupting throughout your entire arm. Dislocated shoulder or broken arm, you couldn't tell which one through the blinding agony. You screamed, more so out of pain than wanting someone to hear. You already accepted your fate, the minute he found you. But that didn't make it any less painful.

"I think I'm going to enjoy this kill the most."

A large hand grabbef a fistful of your hair, yanking you upwards to meet his cold, murderous eyes. He was grinning wickedly, taking pleasure in your pain, and watched you squirm in his grip helplessly.

"If you're going to kill me, just get it over with!" You spat, not knowing where the bravery came from because of the immense pain emanating from your injured limb.

He tutted, "No, you gave me too much trouble. I'm going to make this slow and painful, just for you."

"Now that's no way to treat a lady."

A bright orange light filled your vision, but you couldn't tell what it was as you were suddenly dropped, the man who'd murdered your friends letting out a pained yelp. You lifted your head, dots swimming in your vision, but you were able to make out the familisr form of flames dancing along the man's chest.

"Judging from all the blood on your clothes, I'm gonna guess you went a little crazy tonight," another man was saying, but he sounded childishly amused. "Well, too bad it ends for you right here."

You turned to look at the owner, just as he flicked his wrist and sent more fire the murderous pirate's way. Pretty soon he was engulfed in flames, screaming and pawing at his clothes while trying to extinguish them. You couldn't care less, observing the man who'd saved your life.

He was tall and muscular, pale skin lit up by the ball of fire hovering above his palm. No, wait, his hand WAS the ball of fire. He was shirtless, wearing nothing but black shorts, black boots and a red cowboy hat.

You'd seen him somewhere before...

"Ah, good. I thought that might take a while."

You turned back to the man who'd killed your friends and had been chasing you up until now, only to see a crumpled black heap on the floor a few feet away. Your eyes widened, before you were suddenly lifted up into a pair of strong arms.

"I didn't need your help," you blurted out, "I was ready to die! I didn't want to be saved!" Tears formed in your eyes. You had nothing left. You should have died.

Ace frowned, his heart sinking. Your words brought a familiar feeling back to him, one that he hasn't forgotten but had tried to push away after finding a family in the Whitebeard pirates. He knew what it was like to feel the way you did, and it tugged at his heartstrings to find someone else like that.

Someone who didn't want saving, but desperately needed it.

He's so shocked that he almost forgets you need medical treatment. When he finally remembers, he says nothing and hurries back to the ship with you, his mind racing.

-

Two days later, your arm is in a sling and you're walking around the Moby Dick looking for the raven-haired commander that saved your life. The crew was friendly enough to you, and Marco had suggested more bedrest, but you wanted to see and thank Ace.

It was true that you wanted to die, yes, but after facing the kindness of someone you didn't even know, your mind had slowly changed. You were starting to feel grateful towards him, grateful for being alive.

"Hey! You're awake!"

You turned at the sound of the cheery man, spotting him coming your way. You relaxed slightly, not sure why you were so tense to begin with but relieved to see him.

"Yeah," you breathed out, "Your doctor works wonders."

"That he does," Ace grinned, before eyeing you up and down, "You look a lot better. I didn't get your name, though."

"Oh, it's (Name)," you told him, "You're Portgas D. Ace, right? Second Division Commander of the Whitebeard Pirates?"

"That's me. Glad to know I'm popular with pretty women," he flirted, sending you a smile that knocked the air out of your lungs.

You blushed, flustered, "Well I-I just wanted to say...thank you. I hadn't realised it before, but I didn't really want to die. Just thought I had no one left, and nowhere to go. So thank you for changing that."

Ace's smile only grew, so much so you feared it would tear his face in two, "You're welcome! If I'm being honest, I was glad to play hero for a beautiful woman."

Your blush deepened, his charms affecting you in a way that nothing else and no one else ever had. You found yourself at a loss for words, but thankfully he was called away so you didn't have to say anything else.

Maybe this wouldn't be so bad.

-

The first time you tried to escape, you didn't realise they had a rotational watch schedule. And you hadn't realised that Ace was the one who was on watch that evening.

"Hey, (Name)! Where ya going?"

He smiled at you innocently enough, but his eyes told you he knew exactly what you were trying to do. After all, he'd done the same thing back when he joined. You were just too similar to him.

"Uh...nowhere?" You tried to lie, but you sucked at it. You couldn't even convince a potato if you tried.

"Hmm," he clicked his tongue. "This won't do. Maybe I should just tell Whitebeard, or should I keep this to myself in hopes that it doesn't happen again?"

You agreed to the latter.

The second time, Ace was actually sneaking out of the kitchen with some food when he bumped into you. He raised his eyebrow as your eyes widened, your face giving away your intentions entirely.

He tsk'ed, "Again, (Name)?" He pouted. "You promised, you know."

You sighed and went back to your room, dejected. You could hear him laughing as he walked past your room, and you rolled your eyes as you laid back down to sleep.

The third time, Ace was prepared.

And he had made a trap for you. Which you fell right into, which is why you were now wriggling around in one of the smaller boats, wrestling with a net.

"This is getting old, you know," Ace chuckled as he loomed over you. "Trust me, I know all the tricks. I was you once."

After the fourth and fifth times, you gave up. Ace wasn't going to let you leave, and as the days went by and you got closer to him and the crew, you found your will to leave slowly sapping away. You eventually realised you wanted to stay, having found a family and healed - if only a little bit - with the Whitebeard crew.

One year passed, and you had almost forgotten about the man who'd tormented you. You'd had so much fun with the Whitebeard Pirates, Ace in particular, that you hadn't thought much of the incident. It was getting easier and easier to rid your mind of the gruesome image of your deceased friends month after month. Each adventure left you happier, lighter, and you soon found yourself finding happiness once more.

The pirate life was truly meant for you.

Two years passed, and your time with the Whitebeard crew had become the best of your life. They were practically your family now, and you spoke about and to them as such. You never forgot what happened to you, but you barely thought of it anymore. Not when your head was filled with thoughts about a certain 2nd division commander, with whom you'd fallen in love.

"Ace, stop!" You giggled as he scooped up some batter from the bowl you were mixing it in. You were baking cookies, but Ace was determined to be a menace and sneak in fingerfuls of batter each time you looked away.

"Can't help it," he whined, "It already tastes so good!"

"I haven't even baked it yet!"

"Well then imagine how amazing it'll taste after that!"

You knew he was trying to flatter you to get out of trouble, but you did not care because it was working. And you hated that it always worked, especially with him, because he made your heart race and gave you butterflies.

The days following that included Ace following you around, which you found a little strange since you didn't know why. He would never tell you the reason, always saying something stupid like "you smell good" or "im your bodyguard". You knew he was doing it to tease you, but you couldn't help feeling giddy over the fact that he was choosing to gift YOU with all of his attention.

"Okay, come clean for real this time," you finally approached him one night he was on watch, sitting down next to him. "Why have you been following me around? Teasing me all day, everyday?"

He turned to you, thinking for a moment before speaking seriously for the first time in his life, "Because I'm in love with you, (Name). I didn't want to tell you because I wasn't sure how you'd react or what you'd say, but that's what it is since you wanted to know so badly."

Your eyes went wide, heart thumping like a drum in your chest, "You...you're in love with me?"

He nodded, looking down at his shorts, "I am. These past two years, getting to know you...well, I never really considered the idea of love. But finding you changed that. We're so alike, but also different in ways that complement each other. If that makes sense, I'm not sure it does."

"It does," you smiled slowly, looking out over the water. "And that's really sweet. No one's ever said something so sweet to me before."

"Really? I find that hard to believe, you're so pretty and cute."

Cue the blush, "Yeah, well, I didn't really like anyone before you," you admitted. "Never paid attention to men much, until you barged into my life." You laughed. "You've made me feel so welcome, so comfortable, so happy. You've given me a sense of peace after what happened, and I'm so thankful to you for that. You saved me in more than one way, Ace, and I'm madly in love with you for it."

Your confession took a bit of time to register in his head, but once it did he was smiling goofily and grasping your hand in his. You rested your head on his shoulder, smiling as the two of you spent the whole night holding hands, watching the ocean, and - your favourite part - sharing many heartfelt, intimate kisses.

You were eternally grateful to and for Ace, the man who'd saved you without your permission but eventually earned your heart.

[thescarletnargacuga]

I WISH...

A DREAMLAND AU SHOWTIME ONESHOT

Inspired by THIS

DREAMLAND AU CREDIT: @00belle00lovely00 @tadcdreamlandau

WARNING: none!

~~~

"See, you could wish for absolutely ANYTHING! You simply must be creative with your wording! For example-!" Caine adjusted his clock monocle and cleared his throat to dictate a long winded speech on the near infinite possibilities of wishes.

Pomni let out a long, heavy sigh. Here he goes again. She didn't hate hearing him talk, but sometimes she wished he had something else to talk about. No pun intended.

Despite everything Caine was going on about, wishes were hard to make. Too specific, and you can never wish for that exact thing ever again. Too vague, and something completely random could happen. She wasn't really interested in tempting the powers that be.

Caine animatedly spoke with his hands as he continued, oblivious to Pomni's disinterest. He spun in place, flaring out his multicolored clouded coat. His cane idly hovered next to him. "Don't forget! You can't make the same wish twice! Buuuuut you can bend the rule a little bit if you know how to word your wish right. Such as-!"

Pomni watched him fly around her, taking more of him in than his words. He was certainly passionate about what he did and always went out of his way for her. He was trying his best to make her situation as tolerable as possible and she wasn't blind to his efforts.

While he spoke, she gently took his hand. He didn't seem to mind, he made no mention of it, so she held his hand. She interlaced her fingers with his, seeing if there was any reaction. None. Now she was interested in seeing what she could get away with.

Her heart picked up the pace as she brought his hand to her lips. He made no motion to stop her. In fact, he hadn't seemed to notice at all. She softly pressed her lips to his knuckles. Less than a second of contact, but it made a warmth in he chest spread to her face.

"A-..." Caine froze in place and mid sentence for a second before slowly turning to her. Heat rose in his face seeing his hand in hers, her lips so close.

The warmth in Pomni's face tripled as he stared, looking completely stunned. She couldn't look him in the face. Maybe if she just stares at the floor, he'll go back to talking about wishes. She keeps a hold of his hand.

"....Pomni. um, what....why did you-??" He was asking genuinely. She's never done anything remotely like this before. Rarely gives him hugs, let alone a kiss on the hand.

"It- I...uh, no real reason...I guess I was just-"

"Bored...I figured." He looked downtrodden, the saturation level of the color of the world around them lowered.

So he wasn't completely oblivious. She gently squeezed his hand. "Hey, I'm not bored of you. Just the subject. Maybe we can talk about something else?"

Caine looked at her hand still holding his. He was scarred to move in case she took hers away. "Can we....can we talk about this?" He points with his free hand. He felt a fluttering in his chest when she looked away bashfully, it was the cutest face he'd ever seen her make.

"Can't I just hold your hand? It-..it doesn't have to mean anything."

"I'm not complaining in the slightest, dearie. In fact, I'm rather thrilled that you've come to trust me this far."

"You're reading too much into it." She puffed her cheeks in a pout.

"Am I?" He arched a brow. "Then why haven't you let go? This is an awfully long time to hold someone's hand platonically." His voice adopted a teasing tone. Much to his delight, she didn't take her hand back.

He lowered his teeth to her hand and returned the favor. A rush of excited butterflies invade his stomach. This was pretty intimate behavior, as far as he was concerned. What if they- no. He dared not hope.

The color in the world around them tinged ever so slightly pink. Not enough to be readily noticed, but one could tell something was off if they looked long enough.

Pomni's face flared with color when he kissed her hand. She pursed her lips to fight the smile threatening to appear. "Fine...It's not- it's not a platonic gesture..." Pomni admitted. "But you were so wrapped up in what you were talking about, I entertained myself."

"So you do find me entertaining." He smirked.

Pomni hid her face with her hand. "...maybe."

Caine's smile could not be bigger. He kisses her hand again. "I'm absolutely ecstatic to hear that." His eyes softened watching her try to save face and failing miserably. "You don't need to hide, dearie. I promise I won't bite." He meant it genuinely.

Oh my god, he's flirting. Pomni's heart nearly stopped. She finally looked his in the eyes and he was gazing at her like he was in a trance. She got a little closer. "Caine..?"

"Yes, dearie?" He sighed lovingly.

"I...I think I'm ready to make a wish."

That snapped him out of it. He took both her hands. "That's wonderful! What would you wish for??"

Pomni got even closer. "I wish..."

Caine leaned in with anticipation.

"...you would kiss me." Her lips curve into a small smile.

Chills go down Caine's spine as the world fades to a more saturated hot pink. His eyes widened and pupils dilated. "Pomni..." He steals a glance at her lips. "You wanna.... -me?" He's positively giddy.

Pomni slowly nods her head.

Caine could squeal, but he had no air in his lungs. Pomni stole it all. He tried to catch his breath. "My sweet dreamer, you don't have to spend a wish on that, but if you insist...your wish is my command."

He said his return catchphrase to solidify the spoken contract of a wish. The air immediately around them felt lighter, even warm. Caine carefully held her face, his thumbs caressing her cheeks. A dreamy look in her eyes.

Caine pulled her in, kissing her sweetly and slowly. The magic of the wish intensified the contact, they both felt a rush that could only be described as fireworks going off in their chests.

Pomni didn't want it to end. She threw her arms over his shoulders and Caine wrapped his arms around her waist, slowly rising into the air as they kissed.

The world's color was now a deep maroon. Reality itself blushed from the intensity of their connection.

Pomni introduced tongue and Caine very enthusiastically returned the favor. His tongue pressed to her teeth and then inside. Pomni moaned as he explored her, figuring out all the ways he can make her sing this beautiful song of hers.

He lounged back a bit, letting her lean into him further. Their makeout session taking a casual, sensual turn. For as long as they kept the kiss going, the wish's magic was in effect and it was glorious. Dream-like.

Pomni lowered a hand to Caine's chest, over his heart. He held her hand there. He hoped she could feel how fast his heart was racing, all for her.

[fandomzwriterk]

Stars in Your Eyes

Pair: Gambit/Remy Lebeau x Fem!Trailblazer!Vidyadhara!Reader

Warnings: canon lore of how “Trailblazer” works + the lore of Vidyadhara’s + canon character death + Semi-Amnesiac!Reader + yes Reader can shift paths and elements + slight Genshin inspiration too + love triangle (?) + Canon episodes of X-Men ‘97 + Rouge and Jean fight over Trailblazer’s life choices + (Reader is physically described as how the canon Trailblazer looks like, a few things changed too)

Pt: 2/?

A/N: this chapter is brought to you by the song “Lace It”

Your eyes remained closed, feeling everything in your body slip away as your consciousness faded in and out. Words fell underwater, just as you saw someone flying above you and your motionless body. You had spent all your remaining energy to send a distress signal, and now here someone was coming to find you.

“Hey! Hey! Ah crap-“

That was the last thing you heard before passing out.

Meanwhile, back at the Mansion…

“What da fuck was that?!” Rogue asked

“Hell if I know. Shoulda figured there was another mutant hiding somewhere.” Logan responded

“I have to figure out if they’re even a human first. Some tests will have to be run over the next couple of days.”

“Alright then. Logan, you and Morph work with Beast in case our new friend wakes up. Jean and I will stay upstairs with Jubilee. Gambit, you and Rouge watch the halls to insure no one followed us back here.” Scott suggested

After some time, Scott and Jean went upstairs along with Jubilee, Jean resting for the night while both Scott and Jubilee walked back and forth between every room upstairs. Logan and Morph followed behind Beast as they went to the lab. Gambit sat down on the couch, leaning against the arm of the sofa and kicking his feet over the other. Rogue walked around each corner of the room, looking out the closed blinds and looking out into the dark woods behind the Mansion.

“Alright. Logan would you mind standing there while I get a blood sample?” Beast asked

“I’ll be right behind you Logan.” Morph added

“Alright then. Dont blame me if they wake up.”

You lay there, your mind in absolute darkness as your inner consciousness was standing in front of a book on a pedestal. There was only a single beam of light illuminating the darkness, focusing on you and the book. You took a step toward the pedestal, reaching a hand out to touch the book. On its own, it opened its cover and showed you a blank page of paper, only three words in the middle as if talking to you.

“Who are YOU?”

There was a line beneath the question. There was nothing to write in it either, so you went to turn a page. On the next, another three words greeted you.

“What are YOU?”

That answer was easy, you were a Trailblazer on the Astral Express, blessed with the power of any sort of “Path” you wanted. The book went back to the first page, showing you the word “Trailblazer” under the question of “Who are YOU?” You closed your eyes, your hand resting on the page. Suddenly, you remembered sitting on the Astral Express in an empty car, looking out at the stars. Trailblazer wasn’t just what you were, that was your name aboard the Express as well. The book flipped its pages to the end, now a mirror resting on the whole back cover. You looked into it, seeing yourself in a way you hadn’t before. Your hair was a silver gray, your eyes still the same, but your body was in different clothes. How had this happened? Your hair had changed from its usual color, now to something far from it. You felt like you were from another world, like you didn’t belong here or on the express.

“What am I?”

Your eyes shot open, your arms held down by two straps on each arm, the only thing able to move was your legs. Your vision was blurry, but you could make out the faint outline of three individuals, but you couldn’t see any other details.

“Hey! Hey kid wake up!”

The closer one of them got, you could see his hair was much like an animals fur, unkept and dark. His eyes seemed troubled, but his hands remained tight on your arm. You blinked rapidly, seeing the other two people in the room, one who had an unidentifiable face and the other a big blue furry creature.

“Stay here I’ll get the others.” The one with the pale face spoke

“Don’t take too long.”

You tried to fight the giant man’s hand off of you, but he was so much stronger than you. You were scared, the last thing you remember was walking through the woods trying to find help. Now, here you were strapped down like a test subject.

“Get off of me!” You shouted as you kicked both men

You practically ripped the straps as you shot up, noticing someone walk into the room as you ran for the door. Your eyes met crimson-black ones, making you take a step back as they tracked you throughout the room.

“Don’t hurt me. Please. I want to go home.” You cried

The one with crimson and black eyes took a step forward, making you shrink against the wall, summoning the same lance you called upon not that long ago.

You didn’t want to send the room into flames, maybe just use it to scare them to let you go. Someone else walked into the room, a gentleman with auburn hair and red glasses. You felt like you’ve met him before, but maybe that was back on the Express.

“Calm down we’re not here to hurt you.” The one with auburn hair spoke as he raised his hands up, taking a step toward you

“He’s right. You were hurt, Gambit saw your signal so we went to find out who did it.” The one with crimson eyes spoke

You set the lance down, moving so you didn’t lean against the wall, but still keeping your distance from them.

“Are you alright?” The one with blue fur asked

“I- I think so. I don’t know where I am. Who are you? What do you want?”

“Calm down kid we’re not here to hurt you.” The one with wild unkept hair spoke

“We’re the X-Men. Sort of a ragtag team of heroes you could say. Names Gambit.” The one with red and black eyes spoke, taking a step forward

“I’m Beast and these two are Morph and Logan.” The one with blue fur added

“I’m Cyclops. Guess you could say I’m the leader here too.”

You looked between each person, your eyes still entranced on the red and black eyed man in front of you. You stood up, puffing your chest out a little, as a way to show your strength and resolve.

“Got a name there kid?” Logan asked

You brought a hand up to the side of your head, closing your eyes to think about what your name actually was.

“Trailblazer.”

Your mind spoke that name to you, as if that would be the only answer there could ever be. You remember being called that quite a lot, almost never called anything else, at least from what you could remember. You barely even remember the Astral Express, but that was okay. You were sure they’d come back for you sooner or later.

“My names Trailblazer. Just call me that.”

Every man in the room looked at each other, Gambit and Cyclops shrugging their shoulders only to look back at you.

“Mind if we call you Blaze? As like a nickname?” Gambit asked

You only nodded, feeling a sense of dignity and pride in your name. Your name was your job, who you were. You were a Trailblazer, someone who visited each world and went to tame Stellarons. Maybe there was one here too.

“Well Blaze, welcome to the X-Men. Mind if I ask you a couple of questions?” Beast asked

Everyone else left the room, leaving you to sit on the edge of the bed as Beast sat on a chair in front of you. He held some sort of clipboard in his hand, writing something down.

“Alright Blaze. I’m going to ask a couple of questions, so please answer as best as you can.”

You nodded, remaining quiet as you let your legs swing back and forth while your hands remained in your lap.

“What is your mutant ability?”

“Mutant… ability?”

“Yes… that’s what you are right?”

“What’s a mutant?”

Beast sighed, pulling out what looked like a phone. He held it up to his ear, as if calling for someone. A few minutes later, Cyclops came in with a red head woman, both standing next to Beast as he wrote something down.

“Is it okay if I read your mind real quick Blaze?” The woman asked

You looked at all three of them, your eyes wide with fear.

“It’s alright. I promise I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to see if you know what type of mutant you are.”

“Be careful Jean. She’s scared.” Cyclops replied

“I know Scott.”

She took her time walking up to you, eyeing the spot next to you where she could sit. You let her, as her hands came to grab each of yours, feeling the warmth of her body. She had her eyes closed, seeming to be in thought.

“I see… some sort of train car. I see the stars, a planet not that far from the window. It’s as if the train was driving in space. There’s nobody here, there’s some sort of music playing.”

You were seeing the same thing inside your own mind as you and Jean explored the memories inside your head, her hand holding onto yours to keep you close as you both swam through each memory.

“Do you remember anything else Blaze?” She asked with her mind

“N-No. I’m afraid I don’t. Wait…”

A phone slowly emerged from one of your pockets, as if showing itself to you. You reached out for it, grabbing it as you held onto the woman named Jean with the other. You turned it on, scrolling through to find anything. Nothing, except a number that said “Pom-Pom” and an empty message app. Not a single thing, just a photo in your photo apps, everything gone aside from that one thing.

“What does it look like?” Jean asked

You opened the app, noticing the picture was you and a few different people in the photo. One with red hair, one with glasses, one with pink hair, and the last whose face and hair was crossed out as if you had forgotten this person. The little creature that looked like a rabbit was being held in the person with pink hair arms, both smiling for the camera. Even you, who couldn’t remember these people, were smiling in the photo.

“You don’t remember… do you?”

Your eyes opened and you were back in the room, still sitting on the bed as Jean rubbed her temples.

“Jean are you alright?” Cyclops asked

“I’m fine. As for Blaze…”

There was silence, you waited for Jean to speak. You held your head down low in shame.

“She doesn’t remember anything… nothing. Just a photo. That’s all she has.”

Jean made a photo appear in your hands, the same photo on the phone you had. An exact copy, not one detail different.

“I’ll keep it to see if I can run facial recognition.”

You only nodded at Beast’s words, getting up to walk to the door. Cyclops grabbed your wrist as soon as you passed him.

“Where are you going?”

You didn’t have an answer. The Express? How could you get there? Call the people in the photo? You didn’t even remember their numbers or names.

“Please… I just want to be alone for a little while.”

You could see pity in Cyclops’ eyes through the glasses, he felt bad along with Jean and Beast.

“Alright. Jubilee is outside, she’ll show you to a room where you can stay as long as you need.”

You stayed silent as you walked out the door, noticing a girl with dark hair and earrings looking at you with a smile.

“Heya Blaze! I’m Jubilee!”

“Hello.”

“Come on Scott says you’ll be staying here as long as you want.”

“Scott?”

You followed Jubilee as she walked down the hall, walking a good ways down until she reached an empty room.

“Yeah. That’s Cyclops’ real name. We each have one. It’s not like we can run around in public with our real names. Someone could look for our families or friends.”

“So like a secret identity?”

“Yeah! It’s like how your name is Trailblazer. That can’t be your real name right?”

You didn’t say anything, just walking silently behind as Jubilee opened the door for you.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to pry. I’m sure you’ll remember one day.”

“Thank you Jubilee. Tell Scott and Jean I said thank you.”

“I will Blaze. Have a nice nap. I’ll make sure the rest of the team doesn’t disturb you. If you need someone, I’m sure someone will be in the mansion at any time.”

You nodded as you went to lay on the bed. The room was small, just a couple of drawers, a bathroom attached, a table next to you, and your bed. There wasn’t much in the room, but that was fine. At least your window was big enough for you to lean up and open them if you wanted to. As soon as you closed your eyes to think and nap, a knock was heard on your door.

“Come in.” You answered

In walked the man known as Gambit. His eyes falling onto you and a smile on his face.

“Gambit wanted to see who his little neighbor was gonna be.”

“Hm?”

“I stay in the room next to yours cherie.” He said pointing with his thumb to the room to your right

“Ah.”

You sat up, looking down at the floor as your hands remained on the bed next to your side.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m just confused.”

“About?”

Gambit looked to the drawers in the room, going to lean against them since there wasn’t any space to sit and for you comfortability, decided to not sit on the bed.

“It’s hard to explain. I feel like-“

“You don’t belong?”

“Yeah. Like that.”

“Trust me Cherie, every X-Man here feels the same way. It just comes with being a mutant I guess.”

“You all keep saying that. What’s a mutant?”

“What’s a mutant? People like us. That’s what we are.”

“But I’m not a mutant… I just use weapons like a normal person.”

“Normal? Gambit saw you with that fiery blade of yours. As soon as you woke up you summoned it, so tell me how that’s not a mutant ability.”

“Would it make you feel better if I said I was from space? No? Well I don’t think you’d believe that so just know, I’m not a mutant as you like to think I am.”

Gambits eyes went huge. Space was pretty generic, plus he’d find it pretty hard to understand the concept of an Astral Express, specifically coming from you.

“Space? Now that’s a new one. What’d you do to get here then?”

“I don’t remember.”

You showed him the picture you snagged back from Beast. Gambits eyes went to the photo, seeing your sad eyes as you tried really hard to recall who you were and where you came from. You sighed, placing the photo on the table next to the bed, feeling sadness take control as you started to cry. They were small tears, but you felt sad about not being to remember anything about yourself.

“Hey. It’s okay Blaze. Don’t worry about da times you can’t remember. Gambits sure they’ll come back one day.”

“Thanks Gambit.”

“Don’t thank me my friend. Just making sure your time here is comfortable.”

A few hours later…

Your dreams tonight were something only demons would love. You couldn���t sleep, a feeling of dread racking your body as you laid restlessly under the blankets. You sat up, breathing hard as you tried to recall something you couldn’t even explain. You let your head fall back on the pillow, looking out the window as you tried so hard to sleep. The dreams were violent, you saw buildings burning around you as a sort of Draconic creature swirled in the air in front of it. The whole being was made of flames, its eyes a dark fiery crimson stared at you in hunger. It didn’t even touch you and you already felt like your body might turn to ash. Is this something to do with what you can remember?

“You cannot escape us child.”

The voice was deep, pounding around in your skull like a jackhammer as the dragon like creature raised its head and showed its teeth. In your right hand you held some sort of spear, a dark emerald color while your other held the ability of a burning fire, a small blue flame unlike the massive orange and red flames around you. You stood alone, nobody there by your side as flames consumed everything, almost swallowing you whole as well.

“We will find you, and you shall be our pawn.”

The dragon flew at you, making you close your eyes as you dropped the spear and felt the heat get closer and closer.

To be continued…

[bloodiedrogue]

IN ANOTHER UNIVERSE, MAYBE (2)

SUMMARY: It's always been hard being the sibling of a superhero. Lately though, it feels next to impossible.

PAIRING: Miguel O'Hara & Female Reader

WORD COUNT: 5,136

WARNINGS: Angst, enemies-to-lovers adjacent, descriptions of a panic attack/dissociate behaviours, inappropriate use of medication/alcohol consumption.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay, first of all, the amount of love I've received from this fic has been insane??? Like, y'all really knocked it out of the park, both here and on AO3 and I'm absolutely astounded? Thank you so much! You guys have literally motivated me so much so hopefully this chapter lives up to the hype of the first? :)

CHAPTER LIST / LAST CHAPTER / MASTERLIST

-

“God, I am never drinking again.” 

You stumble into the living room with your hands against your eyes, palming the sockets roughly. It’s morning, maybe even early afternoon, and already the sun is pushing through the blinds, coating the apartment in enough light that it makes you squint. On the couch Miguel grumbles under the covers as you walk by, pulling the fabric over his head as he readjusts his position, directing himself away. 

You’re surprised to see him there but say nothing, opting to wander into the kitchen to pour yourself a glass of water, noticing a fresh sticky note on the fridge: Call me when you’re up —Pete!

Hm, he must’ve gone over to MJ’s for the night.

Peeling the note away, you continue your trek for hydration, grabbing a glass that you fill and chug down twice before feeling satisfied enough to continue. Or at least, enough to survive considering just how sore you are. From your knees down you can feel the leftover aches from walking home; the many miles you’d managed to travel in your drunken state now heavy on your mind. There are at least one or two blisters on each foot thanks to your poor choice of footwear while the muscles surrounding your shins feel like they might actually be burning through your flesh.  

As you walk back through the living room you try not to groan at the pain, turning your attention to Miguel who’s now reluctantly awake. 

“Morning, grandpa.” 

You walk over and press the sticky note to his forehead, ignoring the way he swears under his breath and looks at you with narrowed eyes. 

“It’s not nice to assault people with sticky notes before they’ve had coffee.”

Shrugging in response, you walk back to your bedroom to grab your phone, listening to the creak of your couch as Miguel shifts out of place. 

It’s weird that he’s still here. After everything that happened last month, you were certain you’d never have to see him again. Being Peter’s boss and not much else, he’d become nothing more than a disdainful memory as time went on. A poor impression from the past that Peter never talked about. If you were honest, you weren’t expecting to hear about him so soon, much less see him, especially without his mask. 

So seeing him here, sitting so nonchalantly on your couch is a bit strange. Off-putting in a way that leaves you emotionally winded as you sit on the edge of your bed, staring at your notifications. 

There’s about half a dozen apologies from Peter alone, each variation more extreme than the last. Mixed between there’s a few memes and a picture of him pretending to cry on MJ’s floor with the caption sorry for being the worst brother, which you immediately save for future use. There’s also one from Harry asking you to send him a work email that you ignore and another from Gwen once again asking you to come for brunch. 

You glance at the time, noticing that it’s nearing eleven. She and Harry are probably already at their usual spot, munching away on overpriced, organic eggs and inhaling mimosas. (Something you'd normally enjoy but can’t quite fathom doing thanks to the pain currently rippling through your body.) 

Groaning, you curl further into the bed, feeling your head shift like an ocean wave that sends you flying across the room. In response, you shut your eyes as tight as possible, hoping that if you roll with the movements you’ll get used to them faster. 

Immunity through the power of will and all that. 

“I see you’re still alive.” 

You refuse to open your eyes. You need to focus on getting better —on pushing through the swirling motions that attack your brain because if you don’t you’ll be stuck here all day, helpless and in pain and way too dizzy. No longer will you be a person, but instead a shell. A fragile casing of sensitive flesh stretched over bruising bone that will slowly but surely deteriorate over time. 

“Are you always this dramatic?” 

The urge to argue persists, flowing through you just quick enough that you find yourself opening one eye, noticing his stance. 

He’s standing nonchalantly in the centre of your room; hands placed neatly on his hips. On his face, the tiniest of smirks pokes out of the corner of his mouth, prompting you to lift your head, blinking at what feels like a rare sight.

“Are you always this hostile?”

“Only in the morning.”

“Even towards complete strangers?”

“Especially to strangers.”

“Makes sense why you don’t have many friends.” 

“And how would you know that, stranger?”

He’s got that teasing tone that Harry always has. The one that sounds so condescending that it borders flirtation. Immediately it makes you roll your eyes and direct your attention back to your phone, realizing just how little you want to continue this conversation. You’re too hungover. Too sick and tired to do this whole back-and-forth thing, so instead you call Peter, putting the call on speakerphone with a sigh.

It rings twice before the other end clicks to life, a very joyful and awake Peter greeting the both of you. “Good morning friends, how are we doing on this beautiful morning?”

Almost in unison both of you grumble out a quiet fine that makes Peter laugh, prompting you to look at each other with shared disgust. 

“Are you hungover?”

“What do you think?”

“Gwen called me this morning,” he says, changing the subject. “She wants to go for brunch.”

“That’s nice, but I will not be attending on the account of the fact that I’d rather die.” 

“So dramatic,” Miguel chimes in.

Ignoring him, you place your phone onto the pillow next to you and tighten the covers around your throat.

Your head is still spinning but less so, the waves feeling more like lakeside tides than oceanic swells, leaving you thankful. There’s nothing worse than the spins after a night out. You can handle the stomach aches and even the vomiting but the second you can feel that mental drift you’re a goner. 

“Okay well, MJ and I are going to go if you change your mind. Miguel, you're welcome to come too.”

“No thanks,” he says, unsurprisingly. 

There’s a pause after that. One that lasts a solid five seconds but feels like a lifetime longer thanks to the way Miguel continues to stand there, staring at your pathetic frame tucked haphazardly beneath the covers. 

“You know staring is rude, right?”

“Is it?”

“Yeah, and weird too considering I barely know you.”

“You saying it’s weird for strangers to stare at strangers?” 

“A little, yeah, so knock it off.” 

He gives in, his eyes diverting towards the window before they move to the door, motivating his body to leave the room without another word. Once he’s gone you let out a sigh of relief and listen to his footsteps, hearing the way they move through the living room and into the kitchen. 

It makes you wonder why he’s even still here, taking up space in a home he isn’t really welcome in. You figured it was obvious from the beginning that he was nothing more than an overnight guest. A protective stand-in meant to slip away in the dead of night with no word or note. He was never meant to linger the way he is now and a part of you wonders if he already knows. If instead of picking up and applying said social cues, he’s opting to ignore them for some higher purpose. 

It wouldn’t make much sense but then again, you don’t really know Miguel so maybe he’s just a lingerer. Maybe he’s socially awkward and doesn’t understand that when you’re being mean to him it means you want him to leave your house so you can vomit in peace. 

“I see you guys are getting along.”

“Swimmingly.”

“Did you two have a good night?”

“Yes, oh my god it was amazing!”

“Really?”

You offer a fake laugh that Miguel walks in on, raising his brow in confusion. “No, we had a terrible time. Your boss is mean, Peter.” 

Offended, Miguel opens his mouth to speak but quickly closes it, watching the way you smirk beneath the covers, watching his brows knit together.

“How am I mean? I walked you home didn’t I?”

“Sure, begrudgingly.” 

He scoffs, his palms moving to encompass his hips again. “I didn’t realize I was supposed to enjoy walking you home. I’ll remember that next time.”

Next time?

You narrow your eyes and stare directly at him, noticing the way he mirrors your expression. It’s subtle at first, the way the crinkles of his eyes sort of deepen to match the lines across his forehead. His skin is rough —aged looking most likely due to the fact he probably slept terribly— and the bags beneath his eyes are the heaviest you’ve ever seen, even rivalling Peter’s on some of his rougher days. Like you, he looks more like a corpse than a person, his face devoid of anything other than the sickened frustration of having to deal with your attitude.

“I’m gonna be honest if you’re ever running late again, please call someone else.”

It’s obvious you’re talking to Peter but as you speak you continue staring at the man in front of you, glaring at the way his weight shifts beneath your gaze.

You hope he’s uncomfortable. You hope he’s embarrassed or at least feeling a little self-conscious for acting like such a child in a space that he hopefully never feels welcome in. If you were him you’d certainly be.

“Yeah, so, anyway, is that still a no to breakfast or…?”

-

You’re beginning to regret ever wanting to get involved in Peter’s double life. Or at least, its most recent developments. Up until last month, everything was fine. Simple and controlled and not at all hectic like it is now. Back then, everything was smooth sailing when it came to helping. Your only responsibilities being lie to May and make sure the window was always unlocked before you went to bed. Two very mundane tasks you could practically do in your sleep. 

Nowadays, it feels like an endless loop of stress. Kind of like when you were eighteen and just finding out that your brother was a superhero for the first time. Everything is complicated again. The stakes feel higher than ever before knowing the truth that there’s a world out there just like yours, endlessly repeating. That instead of just one Spider-Man there’s probably a million variations doing the same thing Peter’s doing. 

You’d be lying if you said it didn’t make you look at everything differently —intensively. With each new person you pass you wonder what their version is like somewhere else. Are they still male or female? Are they younger? Older?

As you walk into brunch alongside Peter and MJ, it’s all you can think about as you stare at Gwen, remembering her counterpart. How she looked so familiar but you couldn’t quite place it. 

You realize now that it’s because she’s your Gwen, but not. A direct copy but a good decade younger. They have the same hair colour and eyes and that little gap between their front teeth and upon seeing her it makes you wearily shift into your seat, putting on your fakest smile. 

She’s already a bit tipsy when you arrive, you can tell. Her eyes are half closed and the grin plastered across her face is hazardously wide. 

“Oh, my god, hi! I’m so glad you came!”

If it weren’t for the table between you she’d be pulling you in for a hug, tightening her grip around your shoulders until the air inside you was gone. You inhale nervously at the thought, wondering if other Gwen would do the same. 

It’s hard to tell what traits transfer over. Considering she’s a spider person in her universe it’s more than likely she’s completely different, right? Perhaps relating more to Peter. It’d make sense that all spider people kind of have the same vibe. Perhaps like your brother, they’re nerdy and into photography and have partners with nicknames that double as their initials. Like him they'd live double lives, trying their best to find the balance between being crime-fighting arachnids and regular civilians with the help of their sisters. 

Or brothers. You figure in other universes you’re probably a guy too. Hell, maybe even in some you're the spider person having to navigate through life with the help of your brother. 

“Sorry we’re late,” Pete grins, pulling out the chair beside you so that MJ can sit down. “Somebody had a bit too much to drink.”

You shoot him a look as he sits at the head of the table, sticking out his tongue for good measure. 

You hope in the universe where you have superpowers you give him a hard time. 

“It’s fine, we overdid it too,” Gwen says, looking at Harry who rolls his eyes and looks at Peter, the two of them sharing a knowing glance. 

“Hope you wore a condom,” you say, at which MJ and Gwen gasp, both of their mouths curling into cheeky grins that you can’t help but share. 

Its always been obvious that the two of them are together, even though neither of them would ever admit it. It’s weird but Gwen says it’s a part of the intrigue, having this unlabeled relationship that she can just ride without the responsibility of making it a bit deal. 

Both you and MJ think it’s because she secretly likes the drama of it all, but knowing how she’d react to such a claim, neither of you says that out loud. 

“Did you make it home okay?” Gwen changes the subject before anyone can even join in, making you sort of sad because you love to tease. 

“Relatively. Threw up on the walk home but that’s New York, baby.” 

“Walk home?” Harry questions.

You freeze, remembering Miguel. He doesn’t exist in this world. At least, not to anyone other than you and Pete and maybe MJ. You’re not entirely sure what he’s told her but you figure she knows in some capacity because he wouldn’t have called you otherwise. 

“I mean drive, sorry, drive home. I’m still hungover.” You try to laugh it off but Harry and Gwen share that look. The familiar one where they think you’re lying but know better than to actually bring it up. It’s the same look they give you sometimes when you’re covering for Peter and you hate it, feeling your chest tighten every time it’s shared right in front of your face. 

It reminds you of how you felt having Miguel around. Something about the way he looks at you every time you talk fills you with that familiar twang of insignificance. Like whatever you say isn’t good enough. 

With your friends you know it’s because you’re insecure about your lying capabilities. With Miguel though, it’s different. Yes, it feels the same physically but emotionally it’s an entirely new set of feelings. Ones that have you second-guessing their origins, remembering the way your stomach would twist each time he’d insult you. Each time he’d look at you with those dark eyes and pouting mouth. 

Thinking about it now, he reminds you very little of Peter. Aside from the moniker of Spider-Man the only similarities (so far) you can confidently say that they share is the art of sarcasm and deflection. The way their voices can become so monotonous at the drop of a hat is unparalleled, even with all the tension, and it’s frustrating. 

It makes you wish you didn’t wear your emotions on your sleeve. Like Peter and Miguel, you wish you could box it all up in the form of calm words so that nobody even got the chance to look at you the way Harry and Gwen still are. 

Secretly, you wish you were the spider person of this universe. Not because you want to save lives, selfishly. No, you mostly just wish you were stronger like them. Less like yourself and more like your brother who sits at the head of the table holding MJ’s hand with the biggest smile you’ve ever seen. 

And not so secretly, you want what he has. You want to be confident and to have people look at you in a way that’s filled with adoration. To have them survey you and conclude that you’re decent rather than picking out your flaws. You want May to look at you with fondness. You want her to be proud of you in the same way she’s proud of Peter and to affirm your belief that you’re doing alright for yourself even without filling her desires for grandkids. 

You want Harry to look at you with respect. To stop looking through you just because you’re Parker’s sister who just so happens to be smart too. You want him to take him as seriously as he takes Gwen without the sex. Without the implication that to be valued, you need to provide him with something worthwhile. 

You want Gwen to appreciate everything you do for her. To stop taking advantage of you at work and in life —to provide you with the comfort of an actual friend. 

You want value, you decide. Whether that’s through the gain of superpowers or not. All you want is a little bit more than you’re given and you wish you could express that as you sit at the table, watching everyone talk and laugh as if you’re not really there.

Beside you, MJ leans into Peter as he talks, resting her chin on her hand in longing silence while the two across the table sit, completely engrossed. You try your best to listen in too, picking up that the story involves his boss over at the Bugle. Something about how his last few pictures of Spider-Man were so good he nearly fell off his chair. 

You fight the urge to roll your eyes and pull out your phone, scanning the screen mindlessly, clicking on apps and profiles over and over again until the waitress shows up and asks for your order. You get a mimosa regardless of your hangover and a bagel breakfast sandwich with all the extra fixings, knowing you need it. Then you wait. Wordlessly exhausted, wishing that instead of deciding to tag along you’d stayed at home under the comfort of your covers.

-

Once you step over the threshold of your apartment you let out a sigh of relief and sink into the couch alongside Peter who rubs his face. By now your social battery is running at a negative ten, making your mind fill with nervous thoughts that have you frowning as you curl into yourself, clutching your knees to your chest.

You shouldn’t have gone, you decide then. Regardless of the extended invitation, it was obvious you were only invited because Gwen was drunk and felt bad. That’s usually how it went nowadays. 

“They’re a lot, aren’t they?”

Peter’s always known how much you struggle with people —how you overthink every interaction after it’s happened. It’s how it’s always been and he’s used to it. 

As you nod, you feel his hand against your shoulder, tightening. It’s a gesture of understanding but at the moment it feels like pity so you brush him off, frowning even harder. 

“You okay?”

You aren’t. You’re overstimulated from the amount of interacting you’ve done in the last twenty-four hours. From Harry and Gwen to Miguel and back you haven’t had a break all day and you can feel your mask slipping. Physically, your chest is aching for a breath you can’t quite get, the realization of your interactions pushing you over the edge and all you want to do is scream.

You were such an asshole today. Sure, you’re always kind of mean but this morning specifically felt like a step above the rest with the way you argued with Miguel as if you knew him. As if last night was just another night between you, adding to countless others. You were brash and unwelcoming and rude, and despite how you feel about him sometimes, you still feel pretty shit about it.

“Do you need anything?”

“No.” 

Your tone is stubborn, dripping with an arrogance that has Pete sighing because he knows he can’t do much. When you’re in these moods all he can really do is let you live through your anger —to explore the hate you feel inside in private. It’s how you’ve always done things. So when Peter looks at you with sympathy you can know that’s it. He won’t press the matter further. He’ll just get up and leave and go to MJ’s for the night. Check-in in the morning like he usually does.

As he stands you’re met with feelings of both relief and regret, watching the way he carefully pats your head and steps over your legs. Inside, your stomach drops as he wanders to the doorway, slipping on his shoes and coat without saying a word, knowing that it never solves anything —just makes it all messy. 

Again, like always, you wish you were like him in these instances. Because maybe then you could have a normal relationship that doesn’t rely on boundaries you wish didn’t exist. Instead of pushing everyone away you could sit with them —talk to them. Express instead of repress. Prove to them that the love you want is the love you deserve. 

If you were in any other universe you’re certain you could do it. In this one though? 

You’re too scared. 

-

When you’re alone, it happens, the calm before the storm. 

As the hours move and you lay exhausted on the couch staring at your phone, you find yourself scrolling. Distracting yourself from the inevitable breaking point by watching YouTube video after YouTube video. First, you start with your usual poison, simple documentaries about things like haunted houses or murder cases that remained unsolved. Lazily, you click thumbnail and thumbnail, half absorbing all the names and dates and details as you lie prone, trying not to think about it. 

It takes hours for you to fully accept your emotions and when you do it’s a mess. Now lying in bed, it’s nearing eight and your deep dive on unsolved mysteries has turned into videos discussing the topics of the multiverse. You’re not sure why you decided to delve into all that but regardless, as you do you’re in your head again, clutching a pillow tightly against your cheek as you try to steady your thoughts. 

You bet Miguel’s world has a version of you that’s nicer. One that treats him with respect. They’re probably a spider person too which is why he looks at you with such disdain every time you argue. You’re a lesser version of them —no comparison. They’re better and it drives you insane, thinking that the approval of a man you hardly know is important. 

Aside from Peter, there’s absolutely nothing connecting you. You’re from different worlds both literally and figuratively, so it doesn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter.

Except that it does, doesn’t it? Deep down, regardless of how well you know one another, this man has managed to find his way inside your skin. You’re not sure when or how or why but somehow he’s always there, lingering at the back of your mind like a memory. Like he’s absent until he’s not —until something reminds you that he exists and that he thinks you’re too inexperienced to understand that he doesn’t like you. 

You figure he doesn’t like you because you’re stubborn. You’re sure there are other reasons but that’s the only one that really jumps out. The way he speaks to you is a direct example of that. Changing subjects often, he doesn’t like when you push his pull. Doesn’t like when you defy his authority or pry. He wants complete and total control and when you’re around he knows he doesn’t have that. You don’t trust him enough to give it.

His version of you probably gives him whatever he wants. Probably spoils him by following him around like some lost fucking puppy. They’re probably older than you —experienced— and have the backbone of an earthworm. 

He probably loves it. 

Shoving your face into your pillow you let out a loud groan, letting the tears well and overflow against the fabric of your pillowcase.

It’s sudden, the storm. Erupting out of nowhere over something that shouldn’t matter. Quickly, there’s a rage that fills inside you, quietly creeping from the depths of your soul in the form of breathless gasps and shaky hands. 

You turn upwards to face the ceiling, the tears coating your eyes in a layer of disarray. You can’t see anything but the blurred beige above you. Everything moves like brushstrokes across the canvas, thick and liquidy and not quite good-looking. It makes you blink in annoyance and throw your forearms over your head, trying to stop the world from letting you see or shake or feel anything other than regret. 

It’s painful, the storm. It feels like a deep wound being opened back up again. All the build-up of scar tissue is there, shoved amongst the perfectly good parts. Usually, they linger there together but as the wound is peeled open by your own hand, you can feel the worst of it start to push. 

As it surfaces, you can feel the catalyst begin to wake. The rate at which the chemicals in your brain begin to increase, pushing you over the edge.

It fucking hurts. 

By now your wound is gaping, ripping at the base of your chest. It’s hard to breathe under all the pressure of the damaged flesh. Under all the memories of a life you once thought was good. Decent 

In another universe, you hope to god you feel just like this. Like the world is caving in and you’re the last survivor. At least then you wouldn’t feel so alone —so beside yourself while everyone else so carelessly continues moving. 

It helps calm the storm. Thinking of you —another you. Regardless of if they’re better or worse or completely equal to you, the thought of this feeling extending across the expanse of a place you don’t quite understand fills you with ease.

It closes the hole in your chest —pushes all the tainted flesh back inside for safekeeping. Slowly, it settles into something you can handle again, sewing up the edges that’ll inevitably leave a new scar. 

As you sit up from your bed, brushing past the tears to clear your vision, you feel your breath begin to steady. A slow one-through-five inhale, followed by another one-through-five exhale, each one becoming stronger than the last as you look towards the window, noticing the familiar blue and red spandex standing silently on your fire escape. 

He doesn’t move when you notice him. Doesn’t fly through the air or duck out of sight. Standing there, it’s as if instead of flesh he’s made of stone, unwavering in his attempts to watch you carefully through the window. It’s scary if you’re honest. The way he looks so detached from the world. Even without seeing his face, it’s as if there’s nothing behind the angered design that adorns his features below. His emotions feel completely blank underneath the fabric, making you wonder. 

What’s he thinking about?

As you inch toward the edge of the bed, you see him twitch. It’s subtle. The fingers of his right hand sort of jolt lightly in the air, and it’s over before you can even think about it, so you don’t. Instead choosing to forget as you move towards the window. 

Surprisingly, he still doesn’t move. All he does is breathe, letting the rise and fall of his chest ruin the image of his fixed stance. He’s nervous, like you, you determine. Scared, like you.

It motivates your movements, pushing you through the room until you’re standing in front of the window, reaching for it with shaky hands.

Why hasn’t he left yet?

You push open the window, slowly, watching his body begin to move towards it, his leg pushing through the moment you step away.

“What are you doing here?”

He doesn’t respond. At first, you assume it’s because he’s embarrassed and doesn’t know what to say but then he moves. Lifelessly, he brushes past you and wanders into the living room, forcing you to follow as he drops onto the couch with a groan. 

Seriously, why is he here?

You open your mouth to repeat your previous question but are interrupted by his mask. Almost instantly, it disintegrates before your very eyes, revealing fresh injuries that have you holding your tongue because laying there, he looks like Peter after a rough night. Maybe even worse thanks to the shiner that takes a good portion of his left eye. 

“Do you have any painkillers?” 

You don’t even respond before you leave the room, wandering into your bathroom to grab the usual meds you give Peter. They’re prescription, originally given to you for period cramps, but they do wonders on a battered body.

When you reenter, Miguel’s face is scrunched in pain, struggling to find comfort. Because of this, you practically run to the kitchen, grabbing all the usual items: water, ice packs, scotch, carrying it all in one go. 

“What’s the scotch for?”

You untuck a glass from the crook of your elbow and settle on the floor beside the couch, pouring it halfway to the top before downing it.

“None for me?”

You pour another one. “You’re not meant to take it with pills but Peter always says it makes him sleep better.”

“Okay.” 

You’re no doctor, but you’ve experienced this same formula countless times. If he takes one pill with one full glass of water then drinks the scotch, followed by another water he’ll be out like a light in no time.

“Pill, water, scotch, water,” you instruct, watching him closely as he follows suit, chugging back everything in under a minute.

After it’s done he settles into the couch again, tucking ice packs against his face and chest before glancing your way with a grin. “Stuff’s nice. Goes down good.”

He sounds like he’s been hit by a bus, his voice rubbed raw, scratching your brain in a way that makes you squint as you pour yourself another glass.

“Good cause it cost a pretty penny.” 

“Yeah?”

You nod, opting to sip this one, still feeling the burn of the other radiating throughout your chest. “Ben bought it for me. A graduation present or something.” 

“Wasn’t that ages ago?”

“Your point?”

All he does is grin and close his eyes.

-

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[writerofadream]

Fortune favors the Bold ⛓

TDI!Duncan x Juvie Bestfriend! Reader ⛓

Chapter Thirteen: Princess and the Frog

You were bored, out of your mind. So bored that you had started to juggle which wasn’t something you had done since you were maybe three.

Your mothers had sent Duncan and you to an acrobat camp because your fathers wanted you to get stronger in your upper body.

The tiny rubber spheres flew into your hands and back up again with practiced ease. You were so caught up in watching them fly you didn’t notice the chocolate covered underwear that just flew in front of you. But then you did. 

Your eyes quickly found the redhead responsible. “Harold, what the hell.” You let the balls fall into your hands and you had half the mind to throw them at the boy. Despite his protests you walked away now annoyed.

But before you could get very far you heard Chef Hatchet on the speakers calling you to the dock of shame.

The way he was talking didn’t have you excited. 

As you lightly jogged over to the dock you saw your green-haired devil who was walking on his hands beside Geoff. “Hey cutie.” You resumed juggling. “Hey darling.” Duncan said as his hands felt the difference from the grass to the hard boards. 

“Just kiss already, geeze.” Geoff rolled his eyes as you all lined up. 

“You call this proper formation!” Chef Hatchet was losing his absolute mind. His stick whapped everybody no matter what they were doing. T

he stick hit Duncan’s arms making them fall down, you noticed his body tense. Memories of his father were surely coursing through him. “No fun?” Chef yelled, sounding confused on why the balls were in your hands and he quickly threw them in the water, his stick hit your thigh making you stand on both legs at attention. 

You were going to start yelling.

“Shut up.” Duncan hissed beside you, he was not going to let you lose your cool on Chef, not today. You both had gone to a million military schools. You’ve had worse teachers than this. One lady actually had fourteen-year-old Duncan and you ran fifty laps while carrying twenty pound bags.

Do you want to know why?

Because you asked when lunch was.

“Today’s challenge will not be an easy one. In fact I do not expect everyone to come out alive.” Chef yelled into the megaphone making the sound ring in your ears.

When faced with trauma people deal with it in a multitude of ways. Some revert into a submissive state, some fight back with a vengeance, some deal with it with laughter, some turn themselves off.

Duncan and you were the last too. 

Your mind was quiet and your face went blank and you had a rigid posture.

Three years ago

“You are a grown adult so act like it. My training will make you stronger than you ever were before, youngling.” The man got close to your face and spit flying across your cheeks, you nodded.

“We are fourteen? The only thing making us stronger is milk… sir.” Duncan winked and the man hit him across the face without a second thought.

Duncan on the other hand was… pissed.

“My orders are to make sure every baby here drops out of my boot camp. Except one.” He yelled through the megaphone and your eye twitched. “The last one standing wins immunity for their team.” He whipped Owen.

Then he began down his set of rules. “Yes, Master Chief.” God, that sound was too familiar, you cringed at your words. 

The first challenge was to hold a boat over your heads for as long as physically possible. But Chris wanted you to do another monologue bit in the outhouse.

—

“I am an obedient soldier. No matter if I want to or not.” You muttered staring at the camera, you held your hands as if trying to wring the sweat out of them, your leg shaking anxiously. You were trained at a very early age. Your wants, and needs? Didn’t matter. “

—

Master Chief explained the rules of the challenge and Gwen watched as Duncan directed you towards the canoe, his hands were on your hips as if you were blind and couldn’t see. She noticed that there was something going on in your mind. Some unseen battle.

You lifted the canoe above your head and had to laugh when Owen and Geoff thought this would be easy. 

—

“Come on you sissies you’ve only been at it for three hours.” Chef yelled at you and you noticed how weak the other team was becoming. Duncan had an abusive father, and you’ve had to take care of a man who was supposed to take care of you since you were five. You were beyond used to pain.

Geoff caught Harold's underwear.

Harold took his hands off the boat. 

What a stupid, stupid, man.

“Is there a problem here?” Chef’s head bent down to look at you spit flew on your face and you almost lost it right there. This was too familiar.

—

The moon was bright above you.

Duncan had his chin tucked into your collarbone. He was snoring softly. He knew you wouldn’t fall, you never did. Lindsay on the other hand, lost the challenge for her team as she rang the bell. “Wake up, tiger.” You whispered as your team dropped the canoe gratefully. “I’m up, I’m up baby.” Duncan’s voice was filled with a rasp that made your heart skip a beat.

Chef and Chris had you all go to the cafeteria and you stared at the trash cans in front of you. “You remember when my dad didn’t give me money to buy food that month after my mom died, so I had to eat from the trash.” You chuckled into your palm smiling at the memory. “Fucking racoon.” Duncan laughed much to Courtney’s horror.

“You’ve got ten minutes to eat before night training.” Chef announced. 

The entire camp groaned at the mention of night training. Duncan shook his head and you wanted to start shaking with laughter. Gwen asked a VERY obvious question. “Where’s the food?” 

“Right here. At war you take what you can get!” Chef smiled, taking a lid off the trash. The rancid smell filled the room.

It was probably good that you were getting used to not eating. 

You went with Duncan as he pranked Harold for throwing the underwear at you. He gave him kitchen grease. Which was probably deadly but it’s okay. You rolled your eyes as Harold spit out the drink. “This is why you don’t have a girlfriend, Tarun.” You put a hand on your hip.

“Okay look, I know you like me sweetheart. He knows you like me, everybody knows it.” Duncan leaned close, wrapping his arm around your waist causing you to smirk, booping him on the nose.

“So here’s a tip. You want to kiss me? I might let you.” He winked and you rolled your eyes blowing him a kiss. “In your dreams, baby. But don’t let me stop you from dreaming.” 

Geoff gave Duncan a look as you went back to talk to Bridgette who had asked you to help her do something with the trash.

“Oh you're in love aren’t you man?” Geoff noticed the look the green-haired boy gave you. “None of your business, blondie.” Duncan ran a hand through his hair.

—

You were having dance classes at two in the morning.

By a man in military clothing.

Still not the strangest thing you’ve done to be honest.

You looked to your side but Duncan had disappeared, he reappeared next to the boom-box and turned it off. Chef screamed at him. “Tarun what are you doing?” You yelled at him.

“If someone drops out, we’re done for the day.” Duncan said matter of factly. “You're done when I say you're done.” Chef yelled, ordering him to do 20 pushups. 

That’s strange.

Duncan does one hundred pushups every morning. 

(Juvie habits)

“Anyone else have something they want to say?” Chef challenged the campers surrounding him. Gwen went to the restroom. Suddenly before you could stop yourself you raised your hand. Chef raised an eyebrow as did Duncan. You didn’t ever challenge authority.

“Can I do twenty as well?” Your face broke into a small smile and Duncan almost leapt with joy. 

Chef ordered you to do twenty and you bent down next to the boy. “Oh my days, did I just see a certain girl disobey her superiors? When did you learn how to do that?” Duncan smiled as he did his twenty in sync with you.

The music continued.

“I do a lot of things for people I have crushes on. Thought you knew that, Tarun.” You winked and he had to stop his twenty because did you just say what he thinks you just said?

—-

Chef put you in the cafeteria again and he ordered you to write a three-hundred-word essay on why ‘he was the best’. You’ve had a lot of vain people be in charge of you. But that’s a whole other level.

It was three a.m, by the time everyone was done. 

Honestly your essay wasn’t even about Chef Hatchet.

It was about the idiot beside you.

Just instead of writing Duncan you put ‘Master Chief. It worked, it worked REALLY well actually. “She’s my new favorite.” Chef declared. “Teacher's pet.” Duncan yawned and you smiled innocently.

Duncan of course had to challenge the teacher.

God he never grew up.

You of course had to save him. “No, he’s going to go right to bed.” You dragged the boy away from the sergeant. “If you get eliminated I am going to murder you.” You jabbed a finger in his chest. “Didn’t know you cared, doll.” Duncan yawned again, he was amazed you were still up.

“I don’t. But if we lose this challenge because you are a rebellious idiot I will eat all of your hair gel.” You said. Duncan smirked, you talked a LOT of nonsense when you were tired. “Just don’t get yourself killed because I will make sure your mother beats you if you do.” You kissed his cheek and went to splash some water on your face.

“I love her.” Duncan muttered.

“No, really, bro?” Geoff rolled his eyes.

—

The next challenge was to complete a death-defying course in one minute. There was something familiar about this course which you didn’t remember until you were jumping from one head to another as you raced up the wall.

You were twelve the first time you did this course

Five years ago

“It’s unfair, really.” Duncan laughed as he watched you fly through the obstacle course which was made for grown adult men. “How so?” The counselor looked at him mildly confused, this was supposed to be a punishment drill.

“Acrobatics have always been her favorite thing.”

Duncan did extremely well on the course, he did it slowly on purpose, just so he could grate at Chef Hatchet’s nerves, which earned him one night of solitary confinement. 

He wasn’t even scared of the punishment. He was scared of what his stupid mind was going to conjure up for him. 

—

At dinner, breakfast, lunch, you don’t know anymore you're dead tired. You stirred the mush that was your food before declaring. “I’m going to go check on him. Idiots should not be alone for that long.” You stood up and Geoff smiled at you.

“Does little ole Y/N, have a crush?” he asked. “Clearly, now shush or I’ll gouge out your eyes. Ciao!” You winked when the boy paled.

You used your phone's flashlight to find the door to the boathouse.

“Oi, tiger, you in here?” You called out into the darkness before your eyes adjusted, you saw Duncan smiling at you though it was obvious he was shaking. “Heya princess, come to claim your kiss?” He winked.

“Actually yes, maybe you’ll turn into a prince. I brought food.” You handed him the bowl as you sat down.

“I prefer bait.”

You giggle rolling your eyes. “I hate how I love your laugh.” He said in what you believed was mock amazement. It indeed was not. “I don’t get you, Duncan. How do you egg adults on like that?” You had to laugh. That was your number one fear. Adults.

“You're the one that doesn’t make sense. You're so free when it comes to kids our age. But the second it's an adult you clam up, and turn into a soldier, it’s crazy.” Duncan laughed in bewilderment. “I think it’s because I’m so used to taking care of them.” you shrugged your shoulders.

“You wanna ditch the shack for some pb&j’s?” Duncan asked.

“This isn’t you just trying to get me to eat, is it?” You leveled a fish as if you would smack him with it. “No? I’m hungry too, it’s not always about you.” he said quite dramatically. (He was just trying to get you to eat)

You snuck into the counseling tent and stole a bunch of food.

Also alcohol.

Lots.

—

You were sharing the food with everyone. Duncan and Geoff were busy pranking Harold so he didn’t notice how many drinks you had. (Five shots of vodka to be precise) You were grabbing another one and before Bridgette could protest you chugged that one too.

“That was a mistake.” 

You quickly threw the contents of your stomach over the railing and Duncan walked out feeling a mild sense of worry.

“So the perfect soldier can be a kid sometimes too?” He smiled holding your hair back. You smiled clearly, still a bit drunk as you sat back up.

He gave you a bunch of peppermints. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been free like that, tiger.” You giggled. “I just want more.” You sighed wistfully.

“You could always give me that kiss, princess.” He cupped your chin smiling. “Are we sure that you're my type?” You questioned ruffling his hair and he leaned into your hand.

“Enjoy a funless life then.” He smiled dramatically, turning his back on you. “Enjoy prison, I’m sure the army would love to finally have me.” You smirked.

--

|Trending on X right now|

#whatishappening

#isthisheaven

#PRINCESSANDTHEFROGOMFG

#imcryingtheyaresoperfect

#madeforeachother?

--

“Oh you’d never leave me. Who’d make you laugh-” He whined his eyes shut and just like that you wrapped your arms around his neck and gave him a kiss, a long one.

“Lucky for you we’ll never find out, baby.” You kissed him one more time and skipped away.

“LET’S GO MAN!” Geoff, Duncan, and DJ were losing their minds.

You smiled. Unbeknownst to you, Harold had been watching you, and he wanted revenge on Duncan… but from the side..? You look like an exact replica of Courtney.

The next challenge was a bore. All you had to do was hang upside down. Duncan got out first, weirdly enough. This was something you had practice with. You loved hanging upside down. It felt strangely amazing.

That was for the first thirty minutes. But after having a lot of alcohol. You have to come down.

So you guys lost.

At the campfire that night the strangest thing happened…

Courtney was voted out!

Duncan and you were confused.

Geoff and Bridgette were also confused.

Harold smiled.

[bluewinnerangel]

Since it’s almost time for FITF, lemme hype you up with the list of possible lyrics from shady anons, most are from about 6-7 weeks ago now, in the inboxes of (I hope I don’t forget anyone) @ladychlo @usignedupforthis @lovingstheantidote @perksofbeingasunflowerblog @awesomefringey @princeofyorkshire @the-casual-fangirl. Some of these are absolutely trolling but yeah whatever its fun and we’re gonna know which ones of these were true in a few days anyway:

i held you tight as the stars faded x

looking through the mirror, you're the only one who's left behind x

cuz now i know angels existed x

i sat comfortably in your presence after you told me you were leaving, will we meet again? will i ever see your face again? x

if angels dont fly how can i be at peace? are you watching over me ? do you care? no one is answering me and youre not here x

And if you say you're already done playing your silly little games then maybe we can talk maybe we can talk x

And if you're told the game is over, and you can't go back to your lover x

and when it's time to face the music you're not the one to get hurt, if i hit the ground i get stronger but you've never been down here x

good and bad and right and wrong are stories they made up when we were young x

i dont want to face (or fake?) The music but i still want to dance with you x

Maybe they were right, when they said we were too young x

There's no need for explenation, it won't help your reputation, you're all alone and that's on you, after the years we both've been through x

there’s a mirror in my head and all i see is shame x

If you became like Allie/I'll stay same/give you the world/kiss you when it rains x

my love for you was blue, I left so many clue, but you never thought straight and you walked away, leaving everything I gave you to rot away x

when you cut your hair I know you lost a part of yourself/ you're always are my girl, guess I was too blind to see x

why do you say you hate me,when we both know you like pretending. don't give up on me baby, the play will soon be ending x

You kept all of my tracksuits; 'cause it hugs you too well; if the world could only knew; how your beauty makes my heart swell x

I love the way you wear your hair, spreading your style everywhere. x

When I felt you inside of me/I saw the future laid out bare/I knew I’d lose this love soon/I knew I’d lose this love/We walked all around Chicago/Late nights at the pub times two/Saw the snow cling tight to our coats/I wanted to keep you, wanted to be yours but/I knew I’d lose this love soon/I knew I’d lose this love x

not everything is equal as it seems ; but you have to be a pretender by all means ; they keep on breaking the shield that I created x

i can’t/won’t stop thinking of you, worrying what you’d think of me tonight x

I’ve been walking alone and I can’t stop thinking of you x

saturdays used to take the pain away x

saw someone wearing the same trainers you wore when you walked out the door x

she is beauty, we are world class, our power eternal x

we are the heroes of the orange skies/ embers rustling everytime we soar through the heights/she is beauty/we are world class x

was it the wrong shade of pink ; I know you hate red ; the mix signals you gave me ; keeps twisting the knife in my head. x

And if you’re one of us, you know how it feels x

and this whole damn world is sick can't stand it when you're not here with me x

And when you walk by and out of sight WhatAm I ‘spose to to see in soft lime lights x

had my apology engraved; my faith will never die this time x

i keep losing myself to who you think i am, a shadow standing there, a different shade of blue x

i know you hated it, and you're not alone, but you need to understand, it had to be done x

I know you think i’m mad at you, the truth is i could never be, i just miss you x

I miss your lipstick stains on my cigarette buds/I shouldn't have left when you pushed me away x

I wish someone had the courage to make you believe, that it’s fine to follow your heart even when it bleeds x

Stuck in a cage but I won’t stop till i set myself free x

the world we could make if you’d just turn the key, the fights we’d avoid if you give me an answer (bridge) x

they can see you're holding onto something, but you never let it go x

when u get what u want but not what u need it’s time to let it go, run away and leave x

when we shared a smoke on a stranded rooftop, made some plans to run away and leave this hurt behind x

you became someone new and I was confused ; am I loving someone else or a better version of you? x

you scrape your words from your throat/cause you don’t need them more then me anymore x

You think so many people are centric, but you, you are mostly egocentric x

[drpoisonoaky]

Whoa she has fallen deep

They realize how deep Katara has fallen for Azula. Because they simp for each other a lot.

Suki.

Suki needs to vent with someone. She loves her job, truly but sometimes…So when she saw Katara sitting there she knew she could help her. Katara is a great listener.

Even though it was weird she wasn’t looking at her at all. “I feel the new girls didn’t have discipline.”

“Aha” 

“Okay that sounds like she is answering in automatic and what she is looking at” As she followed Katara’s gaze she saw Azula and Ty lee talking. “Maybe it’s a coincidence”

Seeing Ty Lee there only reminded her why she was mad with the girls. “They only want to learn chi-blocking. And yes being able to chi-block is helpful but you have to train every day.”

“Absolutely” 

“She’s definitely answering in automatic but let’s check just in case”

“Where are they going to learn to fight mongoose dragons with their bare hands?”

“Right” Suki was astonished, Katara was really that disconnected. “Or how to fly.”

“Yep” Suki didn’t even know what else said to her. “Whoa she has fallen deep” 

“Absolutely” replied Katara without any question by Suki. 

“I had enough,” Suki thought. “TY LEE, AZULA COME HERE.” as she yelled that Katara broke her trance. 

“At your service boss” said Ty Lee as soon as she and Azula came close, while she made a military salute. 

“What do you want?” Azula replied slightly annoyed. 

“I want to have a conversation with Katara but she can’t. She only looks at you and answers in an auto pilot.”

As she heard Suki Katara blushed “Hey, that's not true. I-”

“Oh now she can say non affirmation sentences.” At least she wasn't mad with her girls anymore.

“Don’t blame her, I'm gorgeous.” declared Azula smirking.

“Kyoshi have mercy.”

Sokka.

Azula and Zuko were training for a while, well Azula was playing with Zuko because she already trained today and Zuko got along with it. 

Sokka knows nothing about firebending, but he knows he needs her sister’s help. The same sister who only looks at those without even noticing him. 

“Katara'' No reponse. “Maybe she didn’t hear me”

“Katara?” Nothing. 

“Earth calling Katara” Nope. 

Sokka looked at her closer. “Let’s taste the water’s” 

“I think I’m going to kill a bunch of kids just for fun.” And still, no response. Sokka was starting to worry but then, as Zuko hit the floor loudly, he realized she was focused on what Azula was doing “Whoa she has fallen deep” 

So he knew he had to bring the big guns.

“AUCH WHAT WAS THAT FOR??” 

“My old buddy never fails,” said Sokka after kissing his boomerang. “Stop looking at her, clean your droll and help me to move these boxes.”

“I wasn’t looking-… I was trying-…I WAS DROOLING.” Katara said, completely blushed.

“Your girlfriend lies way better.”

Toph.

Toph sensed Azula as soon as she entered the room, but what she sensed the most was the backflip Katara’s heart did.

“Sugar Queen, I think you’re having a heart attack.” 

“What? No. I’m cool, totally chill.” 

“Why are you talking like your brother?” questioned Toph. 

“I do not sound like Sokka”  

On the opposite side of the room Sokka was chatting with Zuko and Azula. 

“But I said to him “No bro, I’m cool, totally chill” and he believed it.” Call it perfect timing.

“I am blind not deaf.” As soon as she said that, Katara started to defend herself, as if Toph said anything to attack her. She was only worried.

“Well your “abilities” must be failing because I’m perfect.” 

“What is wrong with her”

Toph didn’t sense Azula approaching.

“Of course you are perfect” 

“Oh Hey- Hi- What’s up?” replied Katara blushing and like she had forgotten how to speak.  

“Is she really that bad? She was fine 5 seconds before Azula…” As she realized this Toph started to smile mischievously. 

“Are you plotting something against me?” Ask Azula joking.

“WHAT NO” Katara said quickly and loudly.

So Toph decided to play a little bit once she knew her friend wasn't going to die “Her sweetness here was doubting my “abilities”.”

Azula tilted her head while looking at Katara “And you said I am the weird one.” 

“Anyways I was talking to Zuzu and Sokka and they are making me go to the theater today so you are coming with me.” 

“It’s not optional, and we have to wear something nice.” added Azula quickly. After that she got close to Katara and kissed her cheek quickly. Toph senses how Katara’s heart gives a full gymnastic performance “Whoa she has fallen deep”  thought Toph.

“I don’t get a kiss?” Toph asks Azula knowing fully well that won’t happen.

“You should be even asking for one without taking a bath first.” 

“I girl have to try.”

After that Azula was out of the picture. Leaving a speechless Katara.

“Well at least I know why you are suffering a heart attack.” 

“I am no-” 

“Don’t even try.”

Zuko

Zuko was having a cup of tea with Azula and Katara in the gardens. Because it was a great day and Zuko needed advice. 

“And I know I am more approachable than the other Fire Lords, but I like to walk without being stopped all of the time. Mai doesn’t want to walk with me anywhere.” he stopped his rambling and looked at her sister “Are you even listening to me?” 

Azula was with her eyes closed enjoying the sun while Zuko spoke. She actually was paying attention but the sun felt great.

“Of course I am.” said Azula without opening her eyes or moving.

“So?” 

“Don’t stop with anyone anymore. Challenge some of them to Agni Kai.” 

Zuko looks annoyed at her not knowing if she really believes that or she simply wants to make fun of him.

So instead of picking a fight he decided to get a second opinion. 

“Katara?” 

Katara has been looking mesmerized at Azula enjoying the sun like she was the only thing that matters. But as Zuko asks her directly she knows she has to answer something.

“I am Katara.” Even after talking as if her brain didn’t work anymore at all she didn’t look away 

Zuko stared at her blankly. “Whoa she has fallen deep”.

“Great, your pity party broke my girlfriend.” complained Azula while she stopped to enjoy the sun and look at Zuko.

But in that moment, before Zuko could reply, they heard a loud “NO” from Katara when she saw Azula move from her previous position.

Knowing that he wouldn’t get the help he needed and being a little bit angry at these two, Zuko woke up to leave.

“Geez, I get it. I ask Aang. I don’t know why I even ask you two. One is mean and one is drooling over the mean one.”  He looked at them narrowing his eyes and left.

“Were you drooling?” said Azula smirking.

“I’m breaking up with you.” replied Katara, staring at her and pouting.

“Sure but first let’s keep enjoying the sun for a while”

Aang

When Aang asked Azula to teach him lightbending he knew it would be weird. But at the moment she saw Katara sitting near watching them, he confirmed it.

“You know when I asked you to teach me lightbending I didn’t visualize the audience.” 

Azula was finishing her arm wraps, almost ready to train and without looking at him said “It’s just Katara. She asked me to be here. Maybe she didn’t trust us with lightning. The last time we gave her a lot of work.” 

“Only Azula could describe like that killing me with lightning” 

“She also was my waterbender teacher, now I have double pressure” 

Azula was already done when he look at him “It’s just Katara”

“Yeah I know. But-”

“Is it because I’m dating her?” Ask Azula, raising an eyebrow.

“I mean yeah but more in- no- just- Agh.” 

“So for you it is weird that your ex-girlfriend, who still is your friend and now my girlfriend, is watching us training together when I killed you and she brought you back to life?” said Azula looking at Katara. As a response Katara gave them a thumbs up clearly not hearing what they were talking.

“It isn’t for you?” 

Azula looked at Aang for a second and shrugged 

“I have to deal with hallucinations of both of my parents. This is a walk in the park compared to that.” Aang stared at her, surprised that she talked about that with him. 

“Plus if you have lived in an Iceberg for a century you can deal with a bit of awkwardness. “ she added after that. Then she started to walk to the center of the training facility.

“I guess you’re right.” 

“I usually am. Let’s start.”

Azula turned out to be a good teacher and after a while he could create a little lightning.

“LOOK SIFU AZULA IS A LITTLE SPARK.” It was little and weak he made it. 

Azula looked at him with a little smile. Aang was happy and his happiness was contagious.

“If I was Ozai I would make you increase that until it wasn’t embarrassing to look at, even though it probably breaks you today. But I am not. So we shall continue tomorrow?” 

Aang looked at her slightly worried, “I can’t fathom what that man did to her…Wait, has she asked him to continue tomorrow?” 

“It  would be my honor sifu Azula”

As soon as Aang was done with her bow Katara appeared as she was in a hurry.  “Maybe she’s going to scold me”

“Hey Kata-” but when Aang looked at her he realized she never intended to talk to him. “Is she angry?” 

The good thing is Azula looked just as confused as him. But before he can ask her what’s wrong she starts to speak looking at Aang.

“So are you done? You are done. Good. Nice flame Aang.” 

“Did she just say nice flame? We don’t…what was she looking at?!” Aang was more confused at every moment.

Then Katara looked at Azula and the rambling started.

“Azula, you were great.. The best. Who would have thought you trying to help makes you look so h- makes you a great individual…makes you-”

Azula looked confused at first but then she was smirking. 

“Whoa she has fallen deep” Aang thought, looking at Katara when she stopped “speaking” and only stared at Azula .

“Azula, let's go now.” 

“Of course as a great individual it is my duty to help. See you tomorrow, Avatar.” Then they disappear from the Avatar line of sight. 

“Well at least I know how to produce a little lightning.”

Ty lee 

Ty Lee was walking around the palace going to see Suki. When she stopped and saw Azula was training. She was an ass sometimes but her fire was something beautiful. If it wasn’t against you obviously.

“Oh hey are you looking for Suki?” Katara was leaning against a pillar. “She probably was watching Azula,” concluded Ty Lee.

“Yes, well I know where she is, so I was going to” Ty Lee stopped herself when she saw a big blue flame surrounding Azula creating a circle.

“Even after all these years, watching her training is astonishing” said Ty Lee watching Azula, then she turned to Katara “It is crazy because I have seen her millions of times. For some time it was like a routine”.

Katara looked at her with a weird look. So Ty Lee thought “Shit I make it weird” 

“Not that I want to watch her like that anymore. It is just a memory. I mean her bending is still beautif-” As Ty Lee kept talking and Katara’s face was even weirder. “Okay maybe I should just shut up. Is it awkward? Of course it is I mean we dated and we have so good memorie- Nope I’m not talking anymore ”

“Agni please help me”

“Oh no Ty Lee is fine, it’s not awkward, quite the opposite. You know Azula, I love to hear more stories about her from an external source plus you two are friends, well you are my friend too. I mean not that clos-”

“Well at least she also is rambling. Is that part of Azula’s type?”

As if she was invoked by Ty Lee’s thoughts, Azula appears next to her. 

“So now I am a show? Maybe I should join the circus” she had a playful smile on her face.

“So I would get the chance to burn your safety net?” Honestly that was water under the bridge but teasing Azula is funny. Well, when she isn’t in a killer mood.

“I would never put one there at the first place, that’s for cowards”

As they started to bicker Katara only was staring at Azula with that expression. Ty Lee still hasn’t figured out what that gaze means until.

“She was looking at her as she was the best thing in the world, so that’s why she gave me that look she wasn’t jealous she was proud” So when Azula turned back to Katara, Ty Lee paid attention to Katara's gaze and only could think “Whoa she has fallen deep”.

[spacemagicandlaserswords]

The Clone Wars 4.09 ‘Plan of Dissent’ Reaction Take 2

I think out of all of the episodes from the Umbara arc, this is my favourite. If it’s possible to have a favourite with everything that happens. There’s so much of the clones themselves in this episode. So much of their interactions and personalities and characteristics and lives.

Hello to Fives' very nice thighs and crotch. There’s just something about a clone lying on their back, legs splayed, knee bent, as they do mechanical work on the underneath of a ship. Insert your own references to the 2 nickels meme here. Also inserting the gif of Tech doing the exact same thing because I can.

There are definitely moments where Fives voice gets husky and it is very nice. I am not complaining at all.

Obi-Wan is looking rather boxy there

Krell completely changes when he’s talking to someone with equal or more power than him. Slimy bastard.

I know they mean arms as in weapons but every time they say ‘arm’ all can picture is crates full of actual arms.

That tiny head shake from Rex. He is so done.

Ugh that look up from Rex. Ugh.

Ahahahaha it definitely looks like Fives is about to burst into an earnest and deeply emotional ballad in the music video as part of his 90s boy band. So, the important questions are: Who are the rest of the members of this clone boy band? And what is their name? These things, I must know them.

Look at Rex’s big beautiful brown eyes there

Paused the episode only to realise Jesse has an exclamation mark on the front of his chest plate.

Tup waving his space screwdriver grabby thingy around to make his point. I think it’s a calliper? It looks similar to the one Tech has on his belt or in one of his 2000 pockets. Just noticed Tup has the same hairline as Tech too.

“I do think his desire for victory has blinded him to the fact that there are lives at stake. I’ve never seen a General with these kind of casualties.” – I love this moment from Jesse. Especially because he doesn’t go after Dogma, he just calmly but firmly points out what isn’t right about this situation. The adorable nose scrunch is also out in full force.

“I don’t have a better plan.” Rex, you always have a better plan

Fives: Why don’t we just do the same thing we did before!

Lmao Fives’ little chaos face as he explains his plan

Gif by @nickleister from this glorious post

REX THIGH

That ‘do it’ from Rex was very Palpatine of him

“Yeah, he wasn’t really flying. More like avoiding crashing.” Tup going for the jugular there

Omg that was not subtle at all. “What’s going on?” “Eh, nothing.” *awkward*

Oh, Rex and Fives are fighting. That line from Fives about them all being not just another number really hit home too.

I know this is supposed to be a serious moment and all that but omg Fives is built like an absolute unit. Boy is thicc.

Well this is going well. Fives, why are you standing underneath the fighter that Hardcase is barely able to control?

Fives: Hardcase, what are you doing?! Hardcase: If I knew, I wouldn’t be doing it! CACKLING

Who's the random clone helping out Fives and Hardcase? They’ve got different paint but I can’t tell who they are.

“Great, this can’t get much worse” Well now you’ve gone and jinxed it

Oh, so that’s where that shot of Fives standing there comes from. Who knew the absolute chaos that was going on behind as Fives stands there looking all gorgeous.

Fives: “Nothing’s out of control down here.” Hardcase: *actively destroying everything*

Omg the absolutely over the top agonised full eye and body roll that Fives gives while he draws out a long “Uh” to try and come up with a cover story for what they’re doing. 

That has got to be a homage or reference to Han Solo doing basically the same thing in A New Hope.

“That’s gonna leave a mark.” Hardcase, you just melted the door!

“No harm done.” Says Hardcase, standing amongst the ruin he has just created

Absolutely losing it at Hardcase’s cover story for what they were getting up to. To be fair to him, he actually sold it fairly well and it was a decently believable cover story to come up with on the spot. Fives, on the other hand, cannot lie to save himself. Rex is not falling for his bullshit one bit.

Aaaaaaaaaah Hardcase’s little wiggly sneaky fingers. You utterly adorable dork. He looks so pleased with his idea at the end too. It’s the best idea guys!

Hardcase is in. He wants chaos.

Anakin telling Fives that the trick to taking out a control ship is to hit the main reactor from the inside? Well that’s totally not going to come back and bite him in his shiny black asthmatic arse in approximately 20 cycles or so. 

Jesse and Hardcase’s doubtful scrunched up faces as the listen to Fives’ “plan” are utterly adorable

"I can’t help you, when you get caught." — That exchange between Fives and Rex definitely sounds like Rex has put up Fives’ crazy bullshit before. And you can tell how much Rex cares and knows this is the right thing to do yet he’s stuck and he can’t do anything to help them or protect them when the shit hits the fan.

If those fighters are supposed to be locked down, then why are they conveniently sitting outside?

I found this scene of Dogma and Tup in the barracks really uncomfortable. I’ve been trying to reserve judgement on Dogma and not be so harsh on him because I know what happens in the end and he seems like a fan favourite. But it really felt like he was bullying Tup into snitching on Fives, Jesse and Hardcase. I don’t know what Dogma and Tup’s connection to each other is. They seem fairly close so I’m going with close or best friends, if not batch mates. I know Dogma thinks he’s doing the right thing (I know, please don’t come at me) but it felt really uncomfortable watching him bully his best friend/batch mate and vod into doing what he wanted. I think I’m reacting to this so much because I relate to Tup so much. The constant anxious worry. Being bullied and peer pressured into doing things you don’t want to do (hello school trauma). Out of everything that has happened, and a lot of truly awful things happen in this arc, it felt like this was the worst thing Dogma did. Even if he didn’t mean it, that doesn’t excuse it. 

Paused the episode at the start of the next scene and Rex is standing there in the dark looking down at his datapad and fuck me is he a tall glass of water.

The look on Rex’s face when he sees Fives, Jesse and Hardcase fly off in the fighters! I mentioned this in my first reaction post but man, is that a multi-layered expression. Deep long suffering at putting up with their bullshit. Admiration and respect that the crazy bastards went and did it. Worry and concern about what they’re about to do and how they’re all going to deal with the fall out. And probably a bit of satisfaction and amusement that it’s going to piss off Krell.

“I’m just doing it for fun!” Hardcase knows what he’s about

Well that’s a shit fight

Is that a blimp?

Fives, telling Hardcase not to get an itchy trigger finger is like telling you not to be a chaotic little shit. Utterly pointless

Omg the supply ship is even sphere shaped, just with a giant rectangle in the middle. It’s just a B-grade Death Star.

“I’m sure the report will make your strategy more effective.” Rex you sly bastard

So I know everyone says clones can’t lie to save themselves but Rex was pretty damn believable right there, covering for Fives, Jesse and Hardcase. It didn’t feel like a cover story that was made up on the spot either, so Rex had to have come up with it already. He knew they were going to go off on their own hair brained mission, and, even though he was disagreeing with Fives, he still came up with a way to cover for them and protect them as best he could. So he’s bloody smart and cares deeply too. Ugh, I love him so much.

Rex running interference for Fives, Jesse and Hardcase

“Regarding, what?” CACKLING

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” asdf;lkj why are you so badass. Though it does feel sad that all of this has started to pit the clones against each other. And doesn’t that come back in an even worse way later on.

Oh look, it’s a trench run to a reactor! I wonder where we’ve seen this before!

That tactical droid didn’t consider Fives in his equations

Oh man as soon as Hardcase’s fighter got hit, that was the moment you knew he wasn’t coming back. 

That gesture Fives made to stop his fighter made him look like he was using the Force

Nooooo Hardcase what are you doing

“This is for the 501st. Don’t wait for me.” *sobs*

Hardcase calls Fives sir. Again, I am baffled as to what the rank system is here, though I’m assuming ARC Troopers are at least above standard clone troopers in some way?

“If I know Hardcase, we better leave.” That speaks to a lot of experience with Hardcase making things going boom

“Live to fight another day.” Dammit now I can’t see the screen through the tears. Hardcase had a little happy smile on his face too.

Guys, you only blew up half of it! Though I should imagine the rest of it went up too.

That smirk from Rex. He knew.

Very interesting that Tup’s here with Rex. I wonder if Rex took him aside after intercepting him and Dogma or if Tup came to Rex.

It’s a tiny moment but Fives jumps out of the fighter and there’s a shot of his feet and legs landing on the ground and his kama is swooshing around his legs looking all badass

Rex’s look of concern when he sees only Fives and Jesse. He knew.

Oh Hardcase

It’s an equally blink and you’ll miss it moment but this is where that gif of Rex glaring over his shoulder comes from. I think this is going to be like the “On your knees” moment for me. Definitely hot in isolation but now knowing that Fives and Jesse just told Rex and Tup that Hardcase died, it’s going to take me a while to separate what’s happening in the moment from the hot glare.

Rex trying to take the blame for Fives and Jesse and then Fives refusing to accept this and making sure Rex and Jesse don’t get hurt and the agonised way Rex says “Fives!” and Jesse’s worried expression the whole time and just aaaaaaaaaaah *pained noises*

“Oh, do you?” I hate Krell even more. Piss off you overblown bullfrog

Being executed for disobeying orders seems way too steep. I could understand being reprimanded but shooting someone because they didn’t do what they were told? At least Krell gets what’s coming from him in the end.

[mysticwolfshadows]

Taken - Zutara - Part 33

First / Previous / Next

When they get to the arena, Toph and Aang are dangling in the air in metal cages.

And then Lord Beifong, the bastard, tried to take Toph and leave Aang too be handed over to the Fire Nation. When the Beifong's were walking past her, Katara tapped her foot, making Toph pause.

"It's your choice," Katara said. "But we could use the help."

Toph's father scoffed. "My daughter is blind. She is blind and tiny and-"

"I'll help," Toph said, pulling away from her father.

They joined the fray, despite Toph's father shouting at them. Toph takes over, telling Sokka and Zukoo to go help Aang instead. Katara smiled, knowing this girl could take care of a few lesser benders. She joined the boys at the cage, nodding to Zuko as she pulled water from her pouch.

"Heat the lock," Katara said.

Zuko nodded, trusting her judgment, and grabbed the lock in both hands, heating it until it was red hot. Quick as a whip, Katara doused it in water, freezing it all at once. There was a crack, and the lock came loose with a tug. Aang crawled out, staring at Toph.

"Wow," he said, blinking. "She's so good. Am I really gonna learn from her?"

"Maybe," Katara said, as Toph finished up. "That's up to her..."

Back at the Beifong estate, Katara stands with the others as Toph confronts her parents. She listens as Toph confesses her feelings, her desire to fight, and genuine love for it. She confeses never having a real friend, but feeling like she has the chance to now.

Katara was so proud of her, only, Toph's father is an absolute ass.

"I've let you had far too much freedom," the man has the gaul to say. "From now on you'll be cared for and guarded twenty-four hours a day."

"But dad!" Toph cries, then turns her head. "Katara-"

"They have no say here," Lao said, scowling at them. "This is for your own good."

But it wasn't Katara that spoke up. It was Zuko, his hands clenched, that stepped forward.

"No," Zuko snapped. "You're doing this for you. Your insane desire for control. You'd rather destroy your daughter than release any of your control over her."

"You don't know what you're talking about, boy!" Turning Lao shouted. "Guards! Escort the Avatar and his friends out. They are no longer welcome here."

As the guards stepped forward, Zuko turned, sweeping a foot out, shooting flames at the approaching enemy. The guards stumbled, and Katara got into her own fighting stance, ready to defend.

"Firebender!" Poppy gasped, shrinking away.

"I am Prince Zuko, son of Ursa and Fire Lord Ozai." He turned back to the Beifong's, smoke rising from his fista as he glared. "And I speak from experience when I say you will break your daughter one day. And when you do, it'll be something you can't take back."

"Get out," Lao tries, even as his voice shakes. "Get out of my house."

"We'll leave in peace," Aang cuts in, his staff pointed towards one man. "Toph?"

"My daughter-!"

"Has the right to choose," Katara said, reaching with one hand to touch the earthbenders shoulder. "Toph, if you want to leave, we won't let them stop you, even if you don't come with us."

For a moment, Toph just stared in the direction of the floor. Then, she nodded. "I'll join you," she said, ignoring her parents cries. "I'll teach the Avatar."

Her father was shouting, and the room was thrown into chaos. They took off, fighting their way out, climbing quickly onto Appa and flying off.

"This is gonna come back to bite us, isn't it?" Sokka asked, peering over the saddle as the Beifong Estate grew smaller and smaller.

"Probably," Zuko sighed. "I shouldn't have done that."

Katara shook her head. "Toph deserved to make her own choice. Right, Toph?"

She turned, finding the younger girl clinging to the saddle. She was looking kind of green. "I think I'm gonna hurl!"

"Over the side!" Sokka shrieked. "Over the side! Not in the saddle!"

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[rainythefox]

After Midnight

Sequel to Nightfall - AO3 Link

Summary: Three months after her near-death entanglement with Albert Wesker, Claire Redfield remains fettered to him as both lover and prisoner. As such, he once again pulls her into his dark games of power and control. Adamant at having her all to himself, Wesker's hold on her tightens as he pulls them both towards an unsatiable holy grail. But this is to be just the beginning of what would become an absolute nightmare...

Claire/Wesker, Chris/Jill, slight Claire/Leon and Ada/Leon. (also big focus on Wesker and William's friendship and past). Pre-RE1- Code Veronica time frame.

Chapter 1: Behind Blue Eyes

November 4th, 1971…

“The world needed your mother. She was essential. To modern science. To the future. Not you. You are disposable. An expedient…no, an anathema upon this world.”

His father’s last words to him repeated in his head, again and again. 

Then he was left behind at this strange facility with all the white coats.

That was after spending his birthday two days ago flying across the Atlantic Ocean to the United States.

Chicago, he recalled. That’s where he was. A research facility in Chicago. His father had spoken with the man in charge here…something about compensation for his “participation”. Anything to get that funding he always talked about for his research…

The doctors here poked and prodded him. Drew a lot of blood. Ran numerous tests. Nothing he wasn’t used to.

The young boy sat on an examination table in a small white-walled room for what felt like hours, the lights irradiant, just like the rooms he had often found himself in back home. The brightness hurt his eyes. He winced and squeezed his blue eyes shut. If he didn’t, he felt he would go blind.

He didn’t bother checking the door. He knew it would be locked. Everything in his life was controlled. When he could eat, when he could sleep, when he could leave. Isolated. All alone. Although that wasn’t anything new. He had always felt this way. His father abandoned him years ago, even if he had seen him every day of his life up until now.

Anathema…anathema, he thought over and over. He knew the word. A curse. Abomination. Something consigned for sacrificial offering and destruction.

The door opened. Instead of the usual apathy that accompanied him, always knowing it to be his father, a fleeting anxiety passed through him as two strangers entered.

One was the man in charge here his father had spoken to for “compensation”. He was quite important, a lord he’d overheard, but the boy knew nothing of who he was. The other man was a doctor and seemed to be friends with the lord. They both looked to be in their late 40s, although it was just a guess.

The lord wore a proud, triumphant smile, looking the boy over as though he was a prize of sorts.

“Hello, Albert,” he greeted politely, kneeling beside the boy. “It’s an honor to finally meet your acquaintance. I am a longstanding colleague of your father, Andric. My name is Lord Ozwell Spencer, but you may call me Ozwell.”

The lord extended his hand. Albert stared at it. Clean, soft skin. No scars. No calluses. There was a big ring with a familiar crest on its face. It made his head hurt as he tried to recall where he’d seen it. They had never met before, but the boy felt this man somehow knew all about him. He didn’t take the offered palm. The smile was camouflage, the handshake a venomous bite.

Ozwell’s British accent carried a mix of elegance and power. It was more evident than Albert’s father’s accent, which had lost much of its original Germanic cadence from working in England.

The lord didn’t seem displeased when Albert didn't take his hand. He softly chuckled, his eyes still not leaving the boy. “Strong, silent type, I see. I like that in a young man.” He motioned to Albert’s face. "Did you get into a fight at school?”

He was so used to it that Albert had forgotten all about it. “My father never appreciated me challenging him.” Albert glared at the lord. “Tell me, did my father get his just compensation for dropping me at this hellhole?”

Ozwell glanced back at the doctor with a pleased smirk. His friend didn’t smile back, looking more surprised than anything, and scribbled on his clipboard.

“I assure you, young man, that ‘compensation’ was for something else…something before you were born that I owed him. His research is valuable to my company. And so we thought it best I take you in for a bit so he could work away on a very important enterprise.”

Why did adults always lie? Did they think him gullible?

“Something tells me you aren’t so heartbroken over it,” Ozwell said softly, offering the boy a friendly, reassuring smile. “Trust me, you’ll be far happier here. My dear friend Dr. Hensley will just run a few more tests to make sure you are in good health, and then we can get you situated, alright?”

Albert didn’t bother nodding or answering. He didn’t have a choice. They escorted him through the bright, winding hallways of the medical facility. His head hurt. He spotted other children here but never crossed paths with them.

“Are you alright, Albert?” Ozwell asked.

“The lights hurt my eyes.”

The lord slowly nodded, seemingly logging it away with a quick side glance at Dr. Hensely.

When they got to their destination, it wasn’t another patient room, it was a fully functioning laboratory, similar to his father’s. They took him into the back where Dr. Hensley carefully performed a set of tests, including drawing more blood. Afterwards, he was left alone so they could talk in the room next door.

Albert hopped down from his seat and padded over to the cracked door to eavesdrop.

“I told you he was a beautiful specimen, didn’t I?” Ozwell stated. “I’m eager to see him as an adult after the indoctrination and training. He will be the perfect candidate for the next evolution of my project. Tell me the results you’ve received.”

“He’s in impeccable health, my Lord,” Dr. Hensley answered. “He’s developing how we had anticipated and his new genetic screening results are what you were hoping for.”

“Perfect to pair with Alex in the future, then?”

Alex? His sister he’d recently found out about? Pair with her how?

“Without a doubt. However, I am concerned with his lack of socialization and interpersonal skills.”

“He was raised that way on purpose. Don’t worry, he’ll gain those with James.” The lord paused, thinking, and then asked, “Was the light sensitivity listed before on his genetics? This is the first I’ve heard of it.”

Dr. Hensely shook his head. “No, but it’s a common condition when breeding for the Aryan characteristics that you desire. Nothing to be concerned about.”

“Does he remember anything outside of Andric?”

“He does recall the boarding school with the other Wesker children, but not enough that concerns me. The mind manipulation and synthetic memories are solid. If we continue doing what we are doing, he will never remember it all on his own.”

What?!

“Excellent,” Ozwell praised. “Start the next process immediately. I’m leaving for home to meet with Lord Ashford, Lord Henry, and Lord Beardsley tomorrow. James has already been informed and has prepared for Albert to stay with him. Just make sure to wipe his memories of the last few days and reprogram him before handing him over.”

“As you wish, my Lord.”

“And I mean it, Theodore. The utmost care and diligence in handling Albert. His value is beyond estimation. He is one of the most important assets of our future.”

Asset? His father had called him the opposite…yet the same, gut-churning feeling came from the word. The same bad taste in his mouth as though he was just something to be used. A tool, a weapon, but in the end, thrown away. 

Panicking, the boy raced to the door, knowing full well it would be locked. He turned the knob and tugged on it anyway. I have to get out of here! 

It didn't budge. Trapped like always.

He didn’t want to forget. He didn’t want his mind manipulated. He didn’t want to be controlled. Ruled. If only he was stronger…

What had he done to deserve this? His father’s voice played in his head, blaming him for his mother’s death, day after day after day. Was it that? He didn’t mean for it to happen!

Albert moved away from the door when Ozwell and Dr. Hensely emerged from the back room. The boy pretended to be interested in the x-rays on the wall, feigning composure.

“Well, Albert, my boy,” the lord sighed, the same creepy smile and watchful eyes on him, “I must take my leave. I have important duties to attend. Dr. Hensely will take good care of you. Please behave for him. I'll see you soon.”

Albert stayed silent, a growing knot of disgust and hatred twisting in his stomach. He thinks I belong to him. I’m not his. I don’t belong to anyone!

After Ozwell left, Dr. Hensely patted the examination table with a warm smile. “Okay, buddy. Just one shot and you’re good to go! I’m sure you’re ready to get out of here. We have a nice room and meal ready for you.”

Albert didn’t move. It came rushing back to him. The shot wasn’t an immunization of any sort. It was to put him to sleep. Then he wouldn’t remember when he awoke.

They’ve done this to me before…multiple times. He couldn’t recall how many. It was all too fuzzy. His head pounded.

Albert shook his head. “No.”

Dr. Hensely was surprised by his answer, putting his clipboard down and rubbing the back of his head. “Oh come now, Albert. Surely a strong, brave young man such as yourself isn’t afraid of a little immunity boost?”

“Liar,” Albert hissed. “It's anesthesia. You want to knock me out and make it so I don’t remember.”

“W-What? No! That’s absurd! I’m only here to help you.”

The boy refused to move, glaring at the doctor.

Dr. Hensely sighed. “Look boy, you’re doing this whether you want to or not. It’s out of your control. Either you come over here willingly or I have thirty employees outside this room that will hold you down. You wouldn't want another blackeye, would you? So which one is it?”

Albert kept his challenging gaze, one fist balled, his chest a tight knot. No choice. No control. They controlled him. They did own him.

Never breaking eye contact, Albert slowly approached the doctor and sat on the examination table. Dr. Hensely, tense and agitated, let out a deep breath and picked up the syringe.

“Get used to the fact that you will never be in control, kid. That’s how it is here. I’m sorry.”

You will be sorry…

He had to remember. No matter what. He couldn’t let them do this to him…again.

Dr. Hensely leaned in and injected Albert’s arm with the drug. The boy winced, glaring at the doctor in growing hatred…until he snatched up a scalpel on the nearby tool tray, and stabbed it into Hensley’s jugular vein.

Blood sprayed all over Albert just as the world started to spin. Dr. Hensely crashed backwards onto the floor with an agonized cry, gripping his throat.

Just before the world went black, Dr. Hensely bled out all over the floor in front of him. He heard the gurgled curses, felt the warm blood that drenched him, tasted it in his mouth. None of those things compared to the satisfying rush of power and victory he felt in that moment. He had overthrown a ruler. He could conquer them. He would conquer them all.

He should’ve done it to his father, but it was a start. They would not be able to suppress his awakening forever. One day the blinders would be removed and he would remember…and then everyone would be sorry.

The blue eyes, astute and austere, burned into his very soul, seemingly reading his deepest, darkest thoughts. The smile, proud and valiant, hid depravity within an invisible mask of dignity and power.

He couldn’t understand this feeling of being revolted by this man, yet, concurrently, being drawn to him.

“Albert?”

Albert looked away from the eerie oil painting of Lord Ozwell E. Spencer, not realizing he had lost himself in thought under the sharp gaze. He glanced up at Dr. James Marcus…his new guardian. The man was in his fifties with graying brown hair and wore a brown suit. Composed and shrewd, he was a bit harder to read compared to most adults for Albert. He still didn’t know what to think about his new guardian, but for better or for worse, the boy was stuck with him. For now.

It had been a long week. His father had dropped him off here in the States to live with Dr. Marcus, although he couldn’t remember much of the trip or the days after. Has jet lag affected me this acutely before? James had briefly shown him around the large mansion that belonged to Ozwell, before proceeding to the Umbrella Executive Training School. Apparently, James resided here in his laboratory, with his own living quarters, which is where Albert would mostly be staying. Soon, he would be attending the school as well.

James approached Albert when he didn’t move, he himself looking upon the portrait.

“My dear old friend,” James said with a wry smile. “He’s done so much for me…he will do a lot for you as well, Albert. Just remember he is the same as the Snake in the Garden of Eden. Watch his tongue…and certainly watch his bite.”

Albert wasn’t religious by any means, but he knew the stories. “You attribute your friend to the Devil?”

James smirked down at him, delighted. “Better to acknowledge you’re friends with the Devil than to deny it. Come along. There’s someone you need to meet.”

Albert hesitated, his eyes lowering to the floor. His polished shoes matched the equally polished floors of the school. His head hurt so bad. He tried to remember what happened before coming here, but it was all a haze. He recalled his father on the plane. He had said something to him before leaving. He just couldn’t remember what. Ozwell had told him his accommodations were temporary before handing him over to James, but this didn’t feel temporary.

“My father isn’t coming back for me…is he?”

James paused, frowning. He considered his next words. “No. He got what he wanted out of you. And in time, so will Ozwell and myself. But no worries, my boy. You are where you are meant to be. Trust me. In time, you will make them all pay. I’ll show you how.”

What an interesting response from an adult. Albert then followed him closer than he had on the whole tour. James led them to his living quarters nestled adjacent to the laboratory of the training school. It was a nice-sized apartment, modern and clean…a little more room than what Albert and his father were accustomed to.

“William, come out here,” James called. “There’s someone here you need to meet.”

Albert looked around the living room. Spacious. Hardwood floors. Brand new furniture. Paintings and photos adorning the walls. It hardly looked lived in. There was a wall dedicated to a trip to Africa and James’ doctorates. He settled on an intriguing photograph full of beautiful red and gold flowers with peculiar shaped petals, nothing like he had ever seen before.

Soft footsteps rushed into the living room. When Albert turned around, he was surprised to see another boy, having expected William to be an adult. The boy was smaller than him, maybe a year or two younger, with short blonde hair and blue eyes, just like him.

William looked just as surprised to see Albert as he was to see him, but the shock quickly turned into a big, toothy grin and he nearly hopped over to Albert in excitement.

“No way! You got me a brother?!”

“William, settle down. I don’t care what you call yourselves. Just get along. William this is Albert, Albert this is William. You’ll be roommates so get used to each other. I have to make a phone call.”

He was never informed there would be someone else while living with James, let alone someone his age.

Albert tensed and moved away when William eased closer with hushed excitement, especially now since it was only them. Albert had never mingled with other kids before and was unsure of the formalities.

“Nice to meet you, Albert! Can I call you Bert? Oooh, how about Al? I like Al!”

“No. Just Albert,” he grumpily answered, already irritated with the other boy’s whimsical behavior.

“I like your accent Al, are you not from the U.S.? You’ll like it here. James is alright, I guess, but the school is amazing! I’m the youngest child prodigy to be studying under Umbrella!”

This boy was a child prodigy as well? Albert looked him over skeptically. He decided to move away, giving into instinct instead of attempting conversation. He had no clue how to handle this interaction.

William followed, his excitement waning only slightly, instead a mild diffidence forming. “So uh, where are you from?”

“Not here.”

“What happened to your family?”

Albert clenched his jaw. “None of your business.”

“Oh, it’s okay,” William reassured. “I’m an orphan too. It’s why I’m with James. Been here for about a year. I never knew my parents.”

When Albert didn’t answer, William gasped and ran around to block his path.

“Wait a minute! Are you a prodigy too? No wonder James took you in! Oh, this is exciting! Finally, some competition! We could test each other’s limits and push ourselves further! Granted, that’s likely why they put us together to begin with, but just think of all the fun it will be. I mean, I’ll probably win, but it’s-”

Albert punched William hard in the nose. Partly to make him shut up…mostly to establish dominance.

The younger boy yelped, his nose busted, blood pouring out of his nostrils. He cupped his face, staring at Albert in shock as his eyes watered from the sting. “Ow!”

“Well, I just tested the limits of your face, and I must say…you need some work,” Albert sneered.

“What the hell is going on here?!” came James’ angered voice as he rushed into the room, practically yanking the two boys apart.

“I’m fine!” William blurted through his fingers.

Their new guardian sighed, shaking his head. “Why did I agree to this?” He headed for the door, snapping his fingers at William. “Come along, both of you. William, we need to do an x-ray.”

“Oh, it’s definitely broken,” William stated calmly and obediently followed after James.

“Albert, come,” James ordered in the doorway, glaring back at him.

“He brought it on himself,” Albert grumbled, and begrudgingly followed.

“Did not!”

“You did so!”

“BOYS!”

A few months later…

There was a chill to the air, but Albert was numb to it, lost in thought as he waited. Continuous mumbles soon interrupted his thoughts and he glared over at his “roommate”.

William had perched himself so he was lying upside down, halfway off the examination table, his blond hair hanging from his head and brushing the tiled floor. His face was turning red from all the blood rushing to his head.

Albert sighed. “What are you doing?”

“I’m bored! Why do you have to come for tests more than I do?”

“I don’t know, and who said you had to stay behind?”

“And go with James to that old person meeting? No thanks! You’re way more fun, Al.”

“How fortunate for me.”

The lights were burning his eyes as they waited. He squeezed them shut…and tried to tune out William in the process.

Albert was still settling in with James and William. He’d excelled in the boarding school since day one, enjoying it immensely compared to the one his father had sent him to. As annoying as his little roommate was, Albert found himself minding his company less with each subsequent day. Maybe he was building a tolerance to him…or maybe William was growing on him a little, although he refused to admit it.

William started humming, his fidgeting rustling the paper on the exam table. Albert opened his eyes and glared, witnessing his roommate attempting to slide down into a handstand, using the table as a brace to keep his balance.

Albert stood and reached over, grabbing William’s leg and yanking. With a startled “Ack!”, William toppled over. “You just had to do it, didn’t you,” he groaned as he got to his feet, dusting himself off.

“My head is killing me. I’d appreciate it if you stopped being bothersome,” Albert replied, cupping his fingers over his eyes.

“Ohhhh, it’s the lights again. Hmm.” William stood there thinking hard, glaring up at the bright lights while rubbing his chin. “I know!”

He headed for the door. The locked door. The one that always contained Albert. “It’s locked.”

“Psh! That doesn’t stop the great William Birkin!”

The nine year old prodigy procured a key out of his pocket and unlocked the door…just like that. Albert jumped to his feet when the door opened. “Where did you get that?!”

William looked confused at first. “Oh. I stole it from James. No locked doors for us, buddy! Come on, I have something for you!”

William stepped out of the room without a care in the world. Albert hesitated at the threshold. The fuzzy memories, the consequences, they stifled him for a moment before William snatched his arm and yanked him forward.

“Come on, slow poke!”

Albert followed William through the hallways. He had most of it memorized now, but was still not as familiar with it as William. The adults didn’t pay them much mind, too busy with their own duties down in the executive school’s research facility. William slipped into a smaller laboratory and beckoned him to follow.

By the time Albert caught up, William had snatched something off of a researcher’s desk and shoved it into his hands. “There! Now when you’re in the room with the bright lights, they won’t bother you! And you’ll look cool in the process!”

“Sun…glasses?”

“Yeah!”

Albert sighed. “Whose even are these?”

“Who cares? They’re yours now! Trust me, he won’t miss them.” William smacked Albert’s shoulder as he headed out. “Let’s get back before they miss us though.”

Albert nodded, slowly following after him, looking the sunglasses over. They looked positively ridiculous to say the least. He wouldn’t wear them unless he absolutely had to…but…it made him recall that no one bothered to help him with his eyes in all the years he had complained about the pain.

They returned to the patient room to wait. William sat down beside him, a few feet away, as he knew Albert didn’t like anyone close to him. But he slowly and quietly inched himself closer, and then presented something else to him when Albert didn’t snap at him to move away.

It was the key that unlocked the door. “I have another copy. This key is a master key for most of the facility. I…understand. I’ve been in locked rooms my whole life, too. But um…we can help each other not be controlled so much by them, yeah?”

Albert slowly took the key, peering at it as though it was invaluable treasure. He nodded silently in reply, squeezing his fingers around the brass.

Wincing from the lights, Albert slipped on the sunglasses. They were too big for him, but they did help tremendously against the bright glare. 

William tittered next to him. “You look dashing!”

Albert snorted a suppressed laugh. And honestly, he couldn’t remember if he had ever laughed before.

March 19th 1998…

You can wait on me for once, asshole.

Wesker scowled at Claire’s text. It pertained to their established assignation tomorrow. She certainly enjoyed testing his forbearance at times. Not for the first time, he questioned his decision to gift her the PDA for maintaining contact.

His response would have to wait, however. He glanced at his watch after stepping foot into the Circular Café near Clock Tower Plaza. It was a popular bistro nestled right on the river. He soon spotted his quarry waiting for him at a booth.

The information broker, Aaron Roth, stared out onto Circular River, the water absorbing the morning hues of golds, purples, and reds. On the other side of the river, Raccoon City was a resplendent backdrop to this first act, towering, shadowy buildings in fresh dawn under a canopy of sun-tinged clouds. 

Like most prey that had advanced senses to detect prowling predators, Roth caught sight of Wesker halfway towards the booth. Guarded, the broker inched his steaming coffee closer when Wesker sat across from him.

Nothing was said at first, even after Wesker pulled off his shades and stared his emissary down. A young waitress soon arrived at their booth.

“Good morning, Captain! Your usual?”

Wesker broke off his staredown long enough to give the girl two seconds of his time, direct eye contact, an artificial smile, and one nod. “Yes, that will do.”

“On it, sir!”

Wesker leaned back, leering at Roth. “Didn’t expect to find yourself back in Raccoon City so soon?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

“How was your trip?”

Roth snorted, half-rolling his eyes while sipping his coffee. “Let’s skip the bullshit smalltalk, yeah?”

“Straightforward and efficient, as always. Good. It plays in your favor to keep me happy. Now proceed.”

Roth picked up a large white envelope that had been lying next to him. He pushed it across the table to his master.

“Well, the confidential data you and Birkin blackmailed out of Bard is correct. Christine Henry does have a secret project in the works. Laboratory Six in Paris. Derived from the Nemesis Project that’s been around for nearly a decade. Evidence suggests that it is in direct competition with Sergei’s pet project, T-ALOS. That explains why she wanted all the info on it three months ago.”

Wesker opened the envelope and flipped through the documents enclosed inside. Nemesis T-Type. Yes, this was it.

“Another tyrant-based project? It seems both Umbrella USA and Umbrella Europe cannot shake their unbridled rivalry.” Wesker enclosed the stolen research safely back inside its envelope. “All the better for me, I suppose.”

Instead of answering, Roth stared behind him, his usual composure becoming strained. By the time Wesker noticed, it was too late.

“The nerve you have to meet him here.”

Wesker sighed. “Sit, William. And be nice.”

“I was hella nice to Bennett. I’m still finding pieces of him, by the way,” William growled like a feral cat, and frankly, he kind of looked like one too after three nights underground.

His partner sat beside him, but looked like he wanted to reach across the table and scratch out the eyes of their liaison.

“Will, in just the span of a few months, Aaron has compensated us far over what he stole from you years ago. Let it go.”

“But he sold it to Alexia.”

Wesker glared at him.

William sighed like an indignant teenager. “Fiiiine.”

“Here you are, sir!” came the bubbly voice of their waitress, and she sat Wesker’s coffee in front of him. She then quickly presented William with a wide smile. “Dr. Birkin, you too? Do you want your usual?”

“Nah, Al’s paying today. So get me three orders of biscuits and sausage gravy, an everything bagel with avocado, a Spanish omelet, a side order of bacon, and a large triple shot caramel latte with extra whipped cream. Oooh actually, add another shot to that because I’m beat.”

“You got it, Doctor! I’ll get that out to you pronto.”

Wesker glared at William after the waitress bounded away, although Roth was left looking a little confused. 

“What?” Will asked. “I’m hungry. Plus, I have a family to feed. You just keep drinking your sad black coffee, my friend. It will never be as black as your soul.”

“Actually, I am drinking a macchiato.”

“Aw, look at you giving yourself a little light. I knew Claire would be good for you!”

“Wait. Claire Redfield is still alive?” Roth asked.

Both Wesker and William broke off their repartee to glare at the info broker at the same time. He had unceremoniously readjusted their focus. Roth quickly regretted asking, as Wesker’s glare alone could kill.

“Why do you care, Aaron?” Will asked.

The information broker, calm and sly, lightly shrugged, feigning skepticism. “I just figured she’d long served her purpose by now.”

Such a clever rat.

Wesker scratched the top of his hand, an unspoken, discreet message to William. “What else do you have for us? Good news, I hope?”

Roth slowly nodded after swallowing. “Yes…She has agreed to meet you both. Unfortunately, the arrangements are a little tight because of her schedule. In two weeks. It’s the only time I could secure from her. But if you’re wanting to get info on her secret project and any of her other dirty little secrets, I suggest you take advantage post haste. I’ve already spoken with Alex and she has Daniel on board to help.”

“Two weeks?! There’s no way!” William grumbled. “You couldn’t make it in a month or so?”

The broker shook his head. “Dr. Henry is of noble blood. Very proud. Very secretive. Quite powerful and influential. She’s also quite fickle. She usually only gives out opportunities like this once. I highly suggest you take it while it stands, or you might lose her as an ally completely.”

“It won’t be an issue,” Wesker calmly added.

“Speak for yourself, I’m way busier than you!” Will scoffed.

“If I may,” Roth cleared his throat. “Will this not catch the attention of those above you? A UID agent and the Chief Researcher going on a trip to Paris to meet one of Umbrella Europe’s executives? Surely that will catch Spencer’s attention?”

William frowned and looked at Wesker, who didn’t even blink, but merely passed Roth a condescending smile. “I appreciate your ‘concern’, Aaron, but I already have it resolved.”

“Of course you do.” Both Roth and William said in unison, only to give each other weird looks.

“Proceed forward and tell Daniel to contact me. We’ll be there.” Wesker smirked. “It will be a pleasure to finally meet Christine Henry in person.”

Roth dipped his head and rose. “I’ll get it done.”

The info broker left without another word. William watched him depart completely from the café while Wesker took a long drink of his coffee.

“Such a good, obedient little puppy,” Will scoffed. “Until he shits in our shoes.”

Wesker smacked him with the envelope. “Stop your caviling.”

His partner took the envelope and stood just about the time their waitress returned with William’s order.

“Here’s your food all bagged up and your caramel latte with four shots of espresso! You might have a hard time sleeping tonight.” She giggled.

“Sleep? What’s that?” Will joked and winked at her. “Thanks, doll. Come on, Captain, let’s go!”

Wesker yawned and followed William out to his car. After the Chief Researcher secured his food on the back floorboard, he slid behind the wheel while Wesker waited in the passenger seat. Wesker finished his coffee while his partner took the time to go through the documents inside the envelope.

“Hmm, so after nearly a decade of impasse, it seems their ‘Nemesis Project’ has finally been redeveloped. You know, I met Henry briefly when Spencer imported one of their Nemesis Alpha parasites a decade ago. Remember that trip I made to Paris with Spencer like a week after we filled Marcus full of holes? Anyway, her father was in charge then. And since there were no BOWs at the time that could survive the parasite, I took the liberty of implanting it into Lisa. I got my beloved G-Virus out of it! I can only imagine what these new parasites could do if injected into Lisa now…But it seems they plan on implanting them into the next-generation T-103 Tyrants they want to mass produce on Sheena Island. They don’t even have the bugs worked out of the Epsilon strain or the T-002! Cart before the horse much?”

“They wish to test the T-002 on live combatants and use the data towards the final improvements for the new models. That is nothing new,” Wesker explained. “It will be machine versus organism in the coming months on which project will helm Phase Three and determine the future of the Tyrant line.”

“My money’s on this bad boy,” William replied with a child-like grin, staring at the prototype’s design in his lap. “Such intelligence! And look at that artillery!”

“Nature will always prevail,” Wesker agreed.”That is one constant in this world. T-ALOS may have a highly confidential A.I. nexus, but its advantages do not outweigh its disadvantages compared to the Nemesis Alpha parasites.”

“I do spot an error in this blueprint, though.” Will tapped the diagram. “Given how the parasite grows and attaches itself to the central nervous system and brain, I highly predict the cranial and facial tissues will have to be stapled or stretched. He won’t be this pretty.”

“What does that matter?”

“It doesn’t. I'm just pre-bragging how I’ll be right. You’ll see.”

“I will get in contact with Ada. She can come along with us and oversee Daniel.”

“Um…isn’t she on assignment in South America?”

Wesker frowned. He’d been so busy these past few weeks it had slipped his mind. He thought it over. “Alex is also unavailable. It would be in our best interest to have someone else we can trust on this trip. Unfortunately, we might just have to make do with Daniel.”

“Hey, didn’t you say Claire speaks French?”

That’s all it took for Wesker’s brain to do what it did best. Calculate, plot, scheme, orchestrate…

In that same moment, his phone dinged, and a familiar name read across the screen. Claire, sending him another text in response from earlier.

I’ll be there.

Wesker stared at the words, his lips spreading into a wide, devilish grin.

[iguessitsjustme]

Takara's Treasure Ep 1 & 2 Thoughts

 Okay so I just finished Cosmetic Playlover (here is the start of my liveblog if you want to read) and I’m still on the JBL train so it’s time for Takara’s Treasure. I know so little about this show it kind of feels like I’m going in blind but I do know some things. Kind of. Under the cut:

That is my exact question baby boy. What constitutes “a wrong crowd”

NOT THE CHERRY BLOSSOMS WHEN HE APPEARS LKSJDGHKDJFHGKH

Oh he loves plants. I’m obsessed. Love him. 

So because of how I do these liveblogs, you guys do not know how long it takes me to watch each episode. Y’all can just read the next bullet right away but I need to mention how doing these has helped me notice a pattern for myself. It always takes me sooooo long to start getting into shows. I started this episode about an hour ago and I’m not done yet. The episode is 23 minutes long. It takes me so long because I either get distracted or interrupted, but the second I start feeling very attached to the characters, it’s game over and I start flying through the episodes. Especially on a binge. It’s just fascinating to me and I’m kind of glad you guys can’t tell because it is genuinely very frustrating sometimes to want to watch a show and have to fight my brain to keep going because it got distracted (or sometimes it’s because I’m having a flare up and I need to break from the show to deal with it). Anyway, with that said, time to get back on track. I can at least finish episode 1.

Aw the poor baby who lost his bird. I saw this coming but it hurts. I lost my pets a few years ago really tragically (do not ask me about this I will not answer any questions) and it hurts so bad still. I struggle with pets/animals in shows that pass away. It is one of the very, very few things that is actually likely to make me cry. So I get it. Sitting on the mountain and crying all day? Good. Let him process that grief. Let it out baby boy let it out.

What has this man been through? What traumas has he suffered? That is a look of a man who has dealt with some shit. Which means I am going to love him. I am going to absolutely adore him, aren’t I?

Yeah I’d fall in love too. Look at this soft, quiet smile.

Oh sweetie baby he made friends! I’m attached now.

Well since the episodes are short, let’s also do episode 2! Wooo! (send help I feel unwell in multiple ways)

As it turns out..feeling unwell made me fall asleep and it is now the next day. But now I’m about to BINGE. God bless. (pain meds my beloved…yes, I was at cvs at 7 this morning don’t look at me)

I love her AND her pants.

I’m not gonna lie guys, I kind of miss the god awful wigs in Japanese BL. Give me wigs like the ones in Seven Days.

I just spilled cheez-its ALL OVER MY COUCH. It is 9 in the morning. I think I’m actually done with the day now. *eats my last applesauce*

Nooo baby don’t tell him to get rid of the hoops. I like the hoops. Don’t change to studs booo

This baby is so cute asking if he can talk to Takara on campus (It’s Takara and Taishin, right? Also I hope I don’t have their names swapped in my head)

Anyway. He’s so cute. Most people would just start talking to him on campus but he asked if it was okay. Oh my precious baby insecure about How to Friend and it’s just delightful.

What a nice man giving up his seat on the bus. I wish I could do that. I mean I can but it hurts me to stand sometimes. But I love when shows give us tiny little human moments like that. It’s so wholesome and beautiful.

Girl he doesn’t owe you an explanation for not dating you. If he said “no” that’s all the info you are entitled to. Just because he’s single doesn’t mean he’s yours. Gosh that really irks me. I think that’s why I have a problem with the faen fatale trope in a lot of BLs. Because the other person never seems to view our BL boy as an actual person with wants and desires. They project their wants and desires onto them and I don’t know…it’s just annoying to watch. I’m glad it’s not as prevalent as it once was.

Mr. Man on the sidewalk. It is 9:30 in the morning. What could you possibly be screaming about?

Oh I am so smart. Takara is so smart. Took the words right out of my mouth. Literally.

I want all of those umbrellas.

Okay okay I can forgive this show for swapping out the hoops for studs if it’s because Takara likes glassware.

I love this man that Taishin keeps meeting at the bus/bus stop. He’s just so human and kind.

I’ve seen Takara smile twice now and both times the smile has been soft and gentle and aimed at Taishin and I love them both so much.

Whelp. Time for episode 3 methinks

[fandomwave]

TCOAAL UPDATE 6 LETS GOOO You know the drill don't give yourself hives

I have been rolling this around for a few days now and again, absolute blind shot in the dark is to say that this is probably him about to confess to Ashley that he and Julie are dating. I cannot WAIT to get more context, if Andy is worried about her reaction to him dating, if he's feeling conflicted internally and unsure as to why that feeling is there. There is so little available to know what this could fully mean but I am thrilled to learn more AND THEN THE GOT DAMN VID 1) nice to know we have confirmation that his biting his knuckle is a nervous tick 2) MOM NAME! That'll make fic writing easier lmao 3) God there is SO much to unpack here We kinda always knew that Renee suspected Andrew of having some sort of inappropriate attachment to Ashley. This is something she hints at a few times in chapter 2 and more so when you reject the olive branch. Renee keeps dropping points in parent of the year it's almost comical. I am genuinely interested to see what the game has in store for her and if we do get a little more empathetic to her situation as playing her, given that we clearly have a round to do so. Also the fact she was looking for condoms is.. Good lord this lady will die before she gets therapy for her kids... I LOVE seeing the fact that we get confirmation that Andrew is able to lie on the fly. It's again implied but the fact he was able to make up, some bullshit about a show she's never seen. That's some fascinating skill knowing A) It's a show she doesn't watch B) Because of which he CAN just make up whatever because she can't confirm he's lying C) Creativity to weave a fib about a show he's probably also never seen. We know he can do poetry on the fly so making up a plot about a show must be as easy as breathing. The sheer fact Renee has Andrew labeled as Disappointment and Ashley as Embarrassment is incredible too. Fantastic work. A fun little showcase of her relation to them both honestly.

All of this is just causing me to vibrate in place in anticipation. I'll admit TCOAAL is fun in terms of it's world, but rotating each character around and really picking them apart? That's why I can't shut the fuck up about this game. Everyone is so INTERESTING even if they are the worst people alive. I am THRILLED about the idea of getting to know their mother better as a means to understand the foundation they come from. Like the idea Andrew is labeled Disappointment is so telling. She clearly had higher hopes for him, clearly was content to pin those to him and when he fell short of, lets be honest, of those probably unrealistic expectations. > She did basically ask him to raise an entire human as a child himself. > I hate that I have to say this but in the 90s having a college degree meant you eared the good money. Andrew going to college would imply that he would make enough cash to at least be a source of pride in the family given that the implied economic situation of Renee and her husband is that neither of them are college educated.

Andrew still being at home, still clinging to Ashley (literally), still ruined his life with whatever happened to Nina, it's easy to see how she feels like he's the biggest letdown. A bright spot in the family squandered. Ashley being labeled Embarrassment is no surprise. She already clearly harbored some ill will towards her even as a baby, and with how much of a fucking handful Leyley is, it seems like that trend continued well on past infancy. Then her being out of school, I can only assume without a job (or at the very least one that can't pay for her own apartment) and worse now, potentially in an fucking relationship with her brother is... Yeah I can see the tagline pretty easily got applied. Now again, that's because it seems like this woman is critically allergic to Getting Her Kids Help, but what ifs and what coulds need not apply, we're lookin at what we got :D ANYWAYS OK IM DONE NOW BYE I HOPE YOU ALL HAVE A GOOD ONE!

[aquaquadrant]

Oooo following with the other post about session 6 life series resulting in tension between Bdubs and Tango they were also in season 8 at the time owning pass n gas together!!! I just see them getting back to hermitcraft and Bdubs going over the top to make things up to tango. He had the mindset it's just a game and didn't realize how badly it would hurt tango. Bdubs keeps giving tango gifts and trying to build redstone things for Tango to help out. Makes the angst of Tango on the Moon and Bdubs back on earth extra sweet. Maybe that's when Tango finally forgave him

“i’m sorry for killing you in last life.”

tango pauses at bdubs’ unexpected words. he won’t look bdubs in the eye- he hasn’t been able to since they got back from their last session, and bdubs thinks he knows why.

voices chanting in his ear, screaming for blood. fire coursing through his veins with every frantic beat of his heart. the way he can almost smell the extra lives on tango, the maddening urge to kill so strong he’s shaking from it. his eyes burn from how intensely he’s watching tango as he creeps up behind him, fingers tightening around his sword, and the next thing he knows his sword is in tango’s back-

“that’s another world,” tango says finally, his voice wooden. “i don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

“okay, okay,” bdubs replies automatically, before his brain catches up to him and informs him of tango’s tone. “uh- wait, really?”

“what?” tango’s shoulders hunch up defensively.

“you mean it?” bdubs asks, brows creasing together. “cause um, you… you got real mad, about that, and i uh-”

“yeah, it’s fine,” tango says, in the voice of someone who is absolutely not fine.

bdubs winces. “tango-”

“it’s just part of the game, right?” tango turns to face bdubs, and it’s suddenly very obvious that he’s pretending. “it happened, i lost my cool, no need to be sorry.”

“well, i am. sorry, i mean.” bdubs swallows. “i’m sorry it was you.”

tango exhales sharply in what might be a laugh. “makes it sound like you had a choice.”

tango never had the curse, but he did spend a lot of time as a red, and they both know it’s not that different.

“yeah,” bdubs agrees, rubbing the back of his neck. “yeah, i uh, i’m sorry for how i acted after, then. i didn’t know- i mean, i thought you were just playing it up, you know? i didn’t know.”

tango stiffens. “didn’t know what?”

bdubs hesitates. didn’t know a betrayal like that would cut tango so deeply. didn’t know what it looked like when tango went into a blind rage. didn’t know it would feel so personal.

tango seems to read his silence. “bdubs,” he sighs, “we’re friends, right?”

bdubs blinks. “wh- yes, yes of course!” he insists, his heart jolting.

“then please, don’t bring it up again,” tango says with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “okay?”

bdubs hears the waver in his voice, and recognizes the request for what it is. it’s not forgiveness- that’d mean confronting and accepting what actually happened, beyond the surface level betrayal, and tango can’t.

“okay,” bdubs relents.

~*~

“is this thing on? tango! hey!”

a familiar face appears on the screen, the image fuzzy and distorted by static.

“this is- the world’s gone crazy, there’s stuff floatin’ and flyin’ all over the place-”

his frantic words cut in and out.

“the moon’s humongous, it’s coming-”

those big eyes are full of fear.

“i think it’s gonna blast us all to kingdom come- my perfect builds, your builds, they’re all getting-”

the moon looms in the background, impossibly big and bright.

“keralis’ place, it’s- mobs everywhere- here we go! i float! i fly now!”

their home is being torn to pieces.

“my only suggestion is that you stay up- stay on the moon- don’t come- this place is falling to shambles-”

bdubs is alone at the end of the world.

“tango listen, i’m- for everything, i’m so s-”

the transmission goes out.

tango stares at the black screen. “message received, buddy,” he whispers, a couple tears streaking down his face as he narrows his eyes in renewed determination. “i forgive you. and i’ll tell you that myself, after i save you.”

~*~

tango drifts aimlessly through the void of space. with the last breath of oxygen remaining in his cracked helmet, unshed tears frozen on his lashes, he says, “i’m sorry, too.”