#we all just gotta draw our own lines (or not) and do what feels right. .. was just talking about this with someone in message like

[statementlou]

.

[professionalchaoticdumbass]

in the past week or so ive seen a lot of people posting about how there's this oversexualization of trans girls on the site, and I gotta agree, there are way too many people (including other trans women!) who act like we're all dtf 24/7 or always super kinky and horny. I've been tired of that stereotype for ages and i am saying this as a rather sexual trans girl myself...

...but I think people are overcorrecting a bit now, and are starting to veer into "trans women shouldnt be talked about sexually / need to be shielded from it" territory. and, to me, that's really dangerous, because outside of some queer spaces - and even within them- the sexuality of trans girls is heavily scrutinized, as is attraction to us. as much as I dislike certain aspects of the memes and jokes that kickstarted the stereotypes, I'm kinda grateful for them as well. girldick jokes helped with my bottom dysphoria, voice kink shit helped me like my voice, and the whole "tgirl tummy tuesday" thing gave me a lot of confidence in my body where I hated it before. I think this open appreciation of trans sexiness has done a lot for both me and others on tumblr.

again, obviously its got its problems - people end up assuming every trans girl is horny, or only spread positivity if its related to sex with us, and of course the people who do have dysphoria from the things that are being sexualized are left out (like those the "girls without dicks are like angels without wings" memes, ugh, feels icky every time). and on the note of comparing tgirls to angels, we also started getting treated like we're ethereal fertility goddesses and that t4t sex was some inherently sacred ritual. spoiler alert, trans girls are normal-ass people and t4t sex can be holy for the participants but its generally a pretty normal thing to do as well

coming back to the "don't sexualize trans girls" posts now, I think they were initially going in the right direction, but at this point I'm starting to raise an eyebrow at more than a few of them. I'm not gonna whip out the "youre a sex hating puritan if you post about it" accusation because that is obviously wrong but again, I think people are definitely overcorrecting and starting to turn this into a (false) dichotomy when it's not. its a complex topic and each individual trans woman will feel differently about it.

(I feel like the internet just erases any nuance in favor of a two-sided, highly polarized flamewar with unrealistic views on both sides. actually i wouldn't even say this is a super-nuanced discussion because its really not that hard to say "fetishization is bad, but so is suppression of sexuality". will this post just end up being a void scream and people will continue drawing lines between one side and the other? probably. but I am a stubborn bitch and I have hope that we can be reasonable.)

anyways I'll close this off by saying that I wrote this between around 1:30 and 2 AM on terrible sleep the night before, that I hope what I said is coherent enough, and that I will keep being a trans girl who is openly sexual, gets horny over other trans women, and is proud to be transsexy as fuck. I will keep being critical of jokes and trends and memes that stereotype us, even from our own community. I will keep being angry at how poorly us trans folks are treated with regards to our sex lives, bodies, and relationships between the two. I will keep loving and lusting over trans women without fetishizing them. And I will keep doing all of these til the day I die.

[thebest-medicine]

if ur still doing summer prompts, could u do #71 with lee!bakugou and ler!bakusquad? (aka kiri, sero, mina, and denki lol). those mfs looove getting on bakugou’s nerves, so i feel like it’s fitting lmao. thank you!!

Prompt 71 - “This isn't cuddling! This is an attack!”

A/N: I am indeed! thanks for asking! and it's their job to snuggle and make their grumpy friend smile ok

…

“….You guys look fucking stupid.” Bakugo says skeptically as he rounds the corner of the couch and sees Sero, Kaminari, Kirishima, and Mina tangled up in a cuddle pile as they watch TV for the night.

“Join us!” Mina declares.

“Yeah, it’s nice, bro! Come on in!” Kaminari waves him over

“You have got to be joking. I wouldn’t be caught dead—”

With a wink, Sero suddenly whips a line of tape out and wraps it around their explosive friend’s arm. “Come on!”

“Shove it! I shouldn’t have even come over here!”

“Don’t say that!” Ashido scoffs, then continues in a bit of a sing-song. “You know you want to!”

“Yeah, bro!” Kirishima agrees.

Katsuki rolls his eyes, only to feel the shock of a hand wrapping around his wrist. It’s firm, hard. Kirishima. Then, just as he’s about to complain, there’s another hand - this time it’s on his other wrist. His friends are grinning, shifting their place to make a little opening, and…

With a quick tug, Bakugo is on the couch, and soon finds himself at the center of all of his friend’s attention as they quickly shuffle to incorporate (trap) him into their snuggly conglomeration.

“ARGHH- NO! GET OFF!” Katsuki shouts, tensing and squirming away as his friends squish ever closer.

“Why so grumpy, Bakugo? We just wanna show you some looooooove.” Mina teases, drawing his arm toward herself and nuzzling into his shoulder.

Bakugo feels his face warm up, and everyone fusses about until they’re all tangled again. Katsuki looks annoyed, sounds annoyed, but he doesn’t blow them up.

A short while later, Bakugo speaks again but in a softer, less harsh tone. “What, so you guys just. Sit like this.? How is this even comfortable.?”

“Whaaaaat? It so is comfortable.” Kaminari protests.

“You need to relax a little — accept our love and you’ll feel better!” Mina says.

“Come on, Bakubro, she’s right, you’re too tense. You gotta relax. Just enjoy it!” Kirishima assures him.

“Yeah, isn’t it nice to just relax with your friends sometimes? Turn that frown upside down! Do you not like us or something?” Kaminari teases. He pokes a couple times at Bakugo’s side as he talks, making his friend tense up even further.

“What’s this?” Kaminari grins. “You ticklish here or something?” He pokes at the spot - somewhere around the bottom of Bakugo’s rib cage - a few more times.

“Wait, really? Are you?” Mina gasps, delighted.

“Shut up, you don’t know what you’re talking about! Let me out of this idiot sandwich already!”

“That’s not very nice of you.” Sero sticks out his tongue and then pokes into Bakugo’s other side. He flinches toward Kaminari, but there’s nowhere to go.

“S-Stop it.” Katsuki warns, his eyes scanning for an exit. It’s hopeless.

He hears Mina giggle excitedly before he feels a set of wiggling fingers in his armpit. “AHAA- WAIT!” He sucks in a breath, starting to try to fight his way out. For the first time since he started protesting, they actually have to put in a little elbow grease to hold him this time.

“Let us cuddle you!” Mina insists.

“T-This isn’t cuddling.” Bakugo argues. “This is- this is an attack!” His voice is higher than usual, flighty. It…almost sounds like he’s holding back a laugh.

This only emboldens his attackers, who - with smiles and laughs of their own - begin tickling and prodding at him even more.

“Alright.” Mina smirks as she continues. “You’re right but… I’m just practicing my new move!”

Bakugo looks at her quizzically despite his poor attempt to hide his laughter.

“It’s called the super-cuddly-tickle-attack! Hyaaaah!” She cries out, then wraps her arms around him in a hug and positions her fingers at either side of his rib cage.

“N-Nahaha DON’T! Bahaha dohohon’t- you ihihihidiots!”

“You’ll feel a lot better in a few minutes!” Sero assures him.

Once they tire him out a bit, Katsuki finds he is much more receptive to the cuddling. The tickling subsides to his friends pulling him in close, and they watch the next episode of the show together.

…

[more sentence starter fic prompts]

[other sentence starter fics]

[read this & further MHA drabbles on ao3]

[zhoufeis]

What just bothers me simply about the discussion of TTPD being all so great is neither the fact that some reviewers literally ignore some of the very gruesome lyrics this album has to offer nor the fact that the whole album has the same tune and I could not tell apart these tracks even if I wanted to, no. After all, we can always argue that tastes are different... arguably. It's something utterly different that's bothering me.

It's three things entirely different.

1) The fact we pretend 31 break-up tracks, written entirely out of the perspective of victimhood, of some love stories are worth calling "The Tortured Poets Department". Mind you, Swift, I like love songs, I like break-up songs, I like them poetically, I like when they touch me. But writing 31 break-up songs (not entirely, right, more like 25 or so) for one album makes me wonder if there is anything deeper... more touching to write about. You stay on the surface describing relationships (romantic as well as parasocial) in which you come out as a victim. But the self-reflection is missing entirely. And if I learned one thing in language classes it's that it's poetically dull if we only ever stay on the surface. We gotta dig deeper. And I'm not referring to some poetic lines to make a song sound more beautiful. I'm talking about true depth, true self-reflection, something that makes you defenseless. Cause all this woman does is writing songs out of the perspective of defense - and victimhood. Never does she actually draw herself as defenseless or vulnerable, always knowing how to use the right words to make her fans defend her.

2) Which leads me to that other thing that really bothers me. Her PR team was more involved in this album than the persona of Taylor Swift could ever be. Or maybe Taylor Swift is only PR at this point. Maybe there is no actual person behind all of this. Cause if there's one thing that's utterly apparent, it is that this album hinges SOLELY on any media drama she was involved in. Everyone out there trying to decipher which song is about whom - is this storytelling? Is this poetry? If I only care about songs and judge them by who they are about? The beauty of music is that it binds people together, makes people feel heard or seen through the text and voice of another person. What she's doing isn't that. She is not binding people together by selling her songs as something that could happen to anyone, no, all of it is always only about one person's story - her own. She also doesn't create fictional stories to write about, things to further the limits of our imagination and tell a story that doesn't even exist, and never will. She doesn't use imagination, she doesn't try to connect to other people, she's trying only to connect people to HER. Can this album even be judged neutrally if everyone just knows about her relationships and is guessing who the songs are about? Is there one person out there like "I have never seen any of the TS relationship drama and the like, and I only like to review this album lyrically and sonically by the lyrics and tune within"? Because she is SO present in everyday media press, it is impossible to miss her relationship drama. So are we actually still reviewing Swift's album as a standalone media for its sound and lyrics? Or are we actually just reviewing TS's terrible love life which she apparently has no responsibility for? And mind you all - she knows exactly what she's doing. Don't even think for a second she doesn't know that you all are following her every footstep. Don't think she doesn't use it to her advantage. (Aside from that, she has been considered a storyteller for so long, but she seems to have a lack of stories she can come up with if the only ones she writes about are her own...)

3) Which leads to the entire capitalist thinking behind the release of this album. Not only did she publish 19 different versions of this album to be acquired, no, she also literally had millions of fans pre-ordering her (normal-length) album, only to drop an extended version right after its release. Which means that all these fans had to buy yet another album. And don't think she meant this as a surprise for her fans - she did that cause that's how you make money. Cause that's how capitalism works. And she's part of the problem.

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Ace Trappola - Platinum Jacket Voice Lines

When Summoned: A museum that's been around for 100 years, huh. Guess I might as well have myself a good time, since I'm here.

Summon Line: Can't believe this museum decided to pick someone from our academy to be a supporter for their 100th Anniversary... They must've been feeling especially brave, huh?

Groooovy!!: You gotta live your life with cunning. Just like how the walrus did when he took advantage of the oysters' curiosity.

Home: Yaaay, it's the 100th Anniversary!

Home Idle 1: Ortho was saying that the pictures we can see on the internet and these real paintings feel completely different. I mean, yeah, I get it, feels like the real thing has more impact.

Home Idle 2: Jamil-senpai can cook and handle a basketball awesomely, too. I bet he's real good with his hands. What if he knows how to draw, too?

Home Idle 3: Bet it was real hard following all the Queen of Hearts' laws to the letter. If I were one of the card soldiers, I'd probably slack just enough to not get caught.

Home Idle - Login: I wonder if I'm even worth being a supporter to a museum like this. I got no interest in art appreciation whatsoever.

Home Idle - Groovy: Lilia-senpai did nothing but tease me, man. I'd love to get him back for it, but I have a feeling nothing I do would faze him.

Home Tap 1: I can really feel my own posture straighten up when I look at the painting of the Queen of Hearts. Heh, more like, it reminds me of my own demon Housewarden.

Home Tap 2: What does a guy have to do to learn how to draw such spirited paintings? I bet if I could figure out the trick, I'd be able to get good grades in art class.

Home Tap 3: Trey-senpai was saying that he doesn't really understand art, but I wonder if that's really true. I feel like he'd be good at it, what with all those cakes he makes.

Home Tap 4: Maaan this place is much bigger than I thought it'd be, and there's so much to look at. Wanna go take a break at the café?

Home Tap 5: My scarf is pinned with a rose corsage. Cool, huh? Eh, you want to borrow it? Hmm, should I let you～?

Home Tap - Groovy: Hey, hey... Woah, why're you that surprised? You must've been way too focused on the art to not notice someone calling out to you. But that shocked face you just made... Hahaha, that is the true masterpiece!

Duo: [ACE]: Lilia-senpai, let's finish this off with a bang! [LILIA]: Let's go all out, Ace.

Birthday Login Message: Oh, and here you are. You came to celebrate my birthday, right? That's totally obvious. I wonder what I should ask you to do for my birthday～ ...Ah, I feel like eating at a restaurant I've never gone to before. Don't worry, I won't pick a place that's way too expensive or anything. Let's just enjoy ourselves in a restaurant where we don't need to mind any rules or manners.

Requested by Anonymous.

[davidthephoneguy]

A little (mostly Dialtown) rant of my own

Ok first of all you all need to calm down, I'm goin on this rant despite not currently being in the dialtown fandom but I was back around when the game first came out. I just feel like I gotta ask you to be calm because I know how agressive people can be online with that shield on anonymity. I also do not hate dialtown or Dogman nor do I blame them for said issues that will be stated.

Dialtown as a whole does pretty obviously have a problem about representation of fem/fem presenting characters especially in the fandom side. As a previous rant stated before most fem characters are either glossed over in favour of male/masc presenting ones, such as with the main dateables. It even extends to side characters which feels rather disheartening. Now I get why its mainly the male/masc presenting ones who get attention, I must highlight the fact that I am a Bi-Ace Transman and I tended to focus on Oliver and Randal over Karen so I was part of the problem on that part. So i get the gender serotonin of drawing them but I hope you can also see how it means that for example, Karen is almost completely overlooked. I would see myself in them because of the shared gender, I really do understand why this has been happening. You are not evil for doing this, that is not what this rant is about in the slightest. Like the previous rant before stated the game doesn't pass the Bechdal test (Which if you are unaware is a media test which requires two fem characters to talk to eachother about anything other then a man, already an extremely low bar to pass) which Dialtown does not pass. It's completely valid to have reservations about that as it is an overall problem with media at large. Media at large is still a white straight cis male dominated space and needs more diversity in all ways. Dialtown as a whole is a good game and has a diverse cast which is wonderful and amazing to see. The only issue is how some are highlighted more then others or demonized in a way that lines up with misogyny (Such as with Mingus' behavior being villainized by the fandom while Stabby and Shooty doing the same thing being ok and lighthearted in the eyes of the fandom which from an outside view just looks like misogyny I am sorry folks. If the only factor in if you like or dislike a characters actions is because they are a woman is misogyny even if they're cis or trans, misogyny is just the word for discrimination in this way) Pointing this out doesn't mean an attack on anyone, pointing out an issue is meant to bring attention to said issue so it can be improved or fixed. The previous person who I have been referencing and paraphrasing here (who I am not going to @ as they don't need more direct harassment) was slightly attacked for having a rant, yes everyone is entitled to their opinion but that does not give either side the right to actively attack the other. Please remain diplomatic.

People are allowed to highlight issues, if we don't then they won't ever get fixed. We're meant to stick together and fix things together, not attack eachother. Thats what people like terfs want us to do, they want us to tear eachother apart so that they get what they want, our destruction. We have to stand together with the things we love. My apologies for how long this ended up being but I just had to get it out of my head. Just my thoughts as a transman/voidrabbit on the topic

[isabeauwolf]

Alright.

Since it's been days since we've gotten to see our beloved birdman Kai Chisaki one more time in the manga, we've all let our feelings out about his ending, either you hated it or not. Felts depressed and sad.

I gotta ask all of my fellow Overhaul, Kai Chisaki stans and fans: What made you pick Overhaul as your favorite character/ Villain in MHA?

What made him draw you in?

Fascinate you?

Fall for him so hard, he drew you away from your previous anime/manga husband or wifu?

Where you a manga or anime only before his handsome villainous yakuza birdman came into your life?

Was it is character design? Mannerisms? His powerful quirk? His plan to erase quirks, his serum and determination to restore the Shie Hassaikai into power? His godly voice by both Kenjiro Tsuda and Kellen Goff?

(Pst, honestly, I love it all ;) His man's got my heart is a death grip; even if, he's competing with Trafalgar Law for my attention and affection, and now Dabi.)

Instead of throwing around all the hate surrounding this man. Let's send him off with a bang! Love, support, the whole she-bang, even if, you still high disagree with his actions towards Pops and Eri.

-------------------------------------------------------------

(If every seems out of order or all over the place, I'm sorry! Please be, patient with me, and thank you!)

I've give my personal thoughts on Kai Chisaki, Overhaul. My yakuza birdman husband here! (huge breakdown/ summary, rant about this man; spoilers ahead!) Not like, I haven't been doing that the whole time, I've been on here XD I've talked with other Overhaul/Kai stans and fans on here, giving my two cents, which I love and appreciate to everyone who's talked and fangirled/boyed with me!

Be warned that I might to ramble, and this whole thing might now make sense, or is all over the place, again, I'm sorry! But if you don't mind, I thank you!

I started off as an anime only, and watched on my own time. Even if I heard AFO's introduction, and All For One's and All Might's battle at Kamino Ward and All Might saying goodbye One For All in subbed first; my husband was watching it the living room while I was on my laptop watching a different series. The music drew me in and I couldn't look away, watching the whole battle with baited breath until it was over.

Then I watched the series by myself since I couldn't sleep months after. Cheering for Deku, smiling and crying with hm.

I watch in dubbed first, since it's hard to focus on subbed while having a toddler running around. XD Then rewatch it in subbed form.

Anyways, at the end of season 3 we get a tease of Overhaul's introduction. His voice, golden eyes drew me in, hook line and sinker.

I've always been a sucker for bad boys and I love a man that wears a suit. lol So it gave Overhaul some brownie points. I know it isn't just me! Don't lie, haha.

The fact that Overhaul straight up challenged Shigaraki for the spot as the next King of the Underworld, pointing out his mistakes and lack of motivation once more; the same as Stain had in the previous hard, showing that Overhaul himself had been in the game a bit longer than Shiggy.

Overhaul while insulting the younger villain was indeed asking the right questions. Shiggy had misused and lost his powerful NPC's during the Training Camp attack with the Vanguard Action Squad, Muscular and Moonfish.

He had every right to question his motives.

Overhaul is blunt and spoke the truth about Shiggy's leadership skills, even if it ending with Magne's death. As sad as it was she did attack him first when if she was defending her belief's and the league, she didn't have to die. Compress didn't have to lose an arm.

The confrontation and damage done on both side makes you see that Overhaul is a dangerous man, with an equally dangerous quirk on top of being able to bring someone back to life if he wanted to, showcasing the quirk erasing bullets. We hadn't really seen an onscreen death before then, or at least, not that I remember.

Overhaul is cold blooded and driven, but calm and calculated; he's a man who's not afraid to get his hands dirty when he needs to, despite his quirks drawback and hate of the aftermath.

When we meet him again with Shigaraki at the Shie Hassaikai underground meeting room, and the bits given by Sir Nighteye, it's clear that Overhaul has the means to til the scales of Villain and Hero society, if he was given more time and wasn't fighting against the clock. He still needed more funding and man power to mass product both sets of bullets.

Had he succeeded and gotten away with his arms still intact, despite losing Eri to the Heroes, we might have seen him and the right bullets again down the line, but it wasn't in the cards.

(We finally get to see Kai, our birdman unmasked and his poor man get's done soooo dirty! First it's his stoic and impressive, criminally handsome face, then Shiggy took his hard work, him and Mr Compress tag-teamed taking his hands away, leaving him quirkless, helpless, in despair and he's terrified! Not for himself, but because without his quirk he can't reverse the damage he's done to pop's, he can't wake him up or talk to him again.)

Underestimating the Heroes, The League, and being overly cocky and arrogant played a major part of his own fall. His isolation from others and seeing his subordinates and closest friend as pawns to be used and thrown away didn't help, yet the men closest to his inner circle were indeed the most loyal of his followers.

It wasn't outright said, but shown that Overhaul himself was forgiving and understanding when Chrono or Nemoto made mistakes, he didn't scold them or yell at them.

( If I missed anything in this summary, let me know. XD )

He's a well written character and villain. A man possessed and obsessed with fulfilling his goals, repaying Pops, the man who took him in and gave him a home, a place to be himself.

The way Pops found Chisaki as a boy, alone, covered in filth and I imagine he was hungry, always made me feel as if we were missing something from his past. He wanted more than anything to replay the man who saved him and rebuilding the Shie Hassaikai's former glory and reputation along with returning people quirkless.

Might have saved so many lives who were eventually lost, but at the end of the day, he still choose the darkest route and solution.

If the Quirk Doomsday theory we've heard about and snippets we've seen so far. Different combinations of quirks are getting stronger and stronger, people like Touya who's bodies destroys itself while using his fire. There may come a time where not even support items could save a person from their overly strong and destructive quirk.

Could you imagine what he could have done with his quirk, if he was a doctor?! He could have replaced recovery girl's position as UA's school nurse or even a Doctor since healing quirks are so rare.

Of course, I'm not saying what he did was justified by any means.

Kai Chisaki, Overhaul is practically The Fullmetal Alchemist in MHA without the use of Equivalent Exchange! Yes, he threw away his human name, becoming, "a demon with no heart" as Pops says.

As we see him fuse with Nemoto and Rikiya Katsukame, each fusion he becomes more monstrous, a much more darker version of himself; fulling giving into "Overhaul," his villain persona, not carrying who he has to hurt to get his way.

I will admit that I'm down bad for Kai/Overhaul and his Monsterhaul form, Nemoto version, but the giant monster form, lol

Now, let's get down to the nitty gritty.

Knowing about him being in Dr Garaki's/AFO's orphanage and that Shigaraki has a copy of his quirk. They more they parallel each other so much more after that reveal.

It explains so much about his character!

Kai Chisaki won't flat out say it or address it, neither has Horikoshi but its clear that he was heavily traumatized and abused as a kid before Pops found him.

Oh yes, the trauma bucket! Like our beloved characters in the series doesn't have enough trauma as it is. Let's see how far that habit hole goes for Kai? -_-

The lack of remorse for his victims, justifies his action, manipulative, lack of physical response to violence, deception, and hostel, his acts are usually well planned in advance, irritability and aggressive behavior when provoked, reckless disregard for safety of others - antisocial and sociopathic tendencies.

Lack of empathy, believes he's special and the only one who can cure the world, need for admiration from Pops, his abandonment and self-worth issues go hand-in-hand with his fear of his father figure throwing him out of the Shie Hassaikai with his final ultimatum of dropping his plan.

Out of everything, we only get sprinkles here and there that Kai had done before snapping.

You can see it, the way he tenses and his hands ball into a fists, no doubt, surprised, shocked, hurt even before redirected into anger and violence.

Putting his father figure into a coma, and taking matters into his own hands. Become the villain, we all know and love, adore, praise, however you see him as.

Before becoming "Overhaul," Kai used to get into brawls with anyone who dared disrespect the Shie Hassaikai, and wants to help the boss; protecting the honor of the yakuza and protecting them from being called, "Villains." (Classic delinquent behavior, I imagine he did it in high school since we've seen him do it as an adult.)

We see him wear normal clothes: black dress pants, blazer and purple dress shirt, no gloves and a black duster mask over his face. (I'd honestly, love to see Kai in more civilian, classy outfits! More unbuttoned shirts and all, please!)

Even if Pops scolding him and explaining that they must protect civilians instead of hurting them, the old man still affectionately pets the top of his head and praises him for protecting their honor. Which in itself is a kind gesture, but something I think he took a little too much into his heart.

The scolding for doing something dishonorable, but praised for his intentions has overtime been taken form into the most cold and logical extreme actions.

Nobody can deny that Overhaul's got drip! XD

Overhaul's more professional outfits: the red and gold plague doctor's mask, and white gloves. Borrowing inspiration from All For One, he uses his quirks name as his alias, his Villain name and quirk ability, the idea for his quirk erasing and serum, as "Overhaul", he can kill and wants to change the world.

To preserve the past, he must engage with the present and became a villain out of necessity.

What's the difference?

The differences between a young Kai standing up for his father's honor and the snarling demon he has become. All of it against a world that had clearly outgrown him and the old ways of the Yakuza, but he refused to accept it and to protect his only family and most precious person, Pops.

As we've been in the latest chapter of MHA, without his quirk, without his arms and plague mask, and the last time we saw him. Kai Chisaki, inside is still a boy who wants to make his father figure proud and wants attention and praise.

As Pop's said before he took things too far again, shoving the older man's wisdom and wishes aside, taking action into his own hands, not only crossing the line between the gray that Pop's held against the Villains' and Heroes, Black and White, Kai instead, erased the line and jumped over it, making his own line and walked into a dangerous and dishonorable path.

======= What I missed last minute, sorry guy's.... I'm almost done, I swear! =======

It's clear, that he's smart and well educated, he could have studied as a medical student, read medical journals during his free time or just because he was a huge science and medical geek, we will never know.

My bet's on the ladder, practicing how to control his quirk and for the fun of it. He's the type of person to obssess with something and run away with it, a concerting amount.

You can't tell me that Pop's didn't walk in to Kai's room or living room, seeing Kai asleep on the couch or floor with a book either on his face or on his chest! Or Kai geeking out over a first edition or rare medical journal he found or Pop's and Hari had given him as a birthday present!

The birdman is such a workaholic that he's no doubt forgotten about his birthday, if Pop's or Hari didn't plan something for him!

If Kai is such a health nut and germ, wash your hands after every speck of dusk lands on your hands, then I need to know his skincare routine!

Do you think his hands is soft?

We know he works out from how jacked he is from his back and abs, fuck, I'd gladly claim him like a tree X////////////x

I'm not the only one who wanted him to have those traditional tatts, right? Of course, it's optional and traditional, but come on! I excepted to see the Shie Hassaikai's embalm, sakura or at least, a raven something! Anything! Hell, all three! Well, in my fanfic he does.

Also, Lady Nagant, you lucky woman, getting to touch and dress Kai!

Wish, I could trade places to pamper and comfort this man.

Screw you, AFO, Kai comes first.

I don't care if Kai comes off as stuck-up, spoiled rich brat, a bubble bath princess, narcissist and a asshole. If given the change to rock this man's world and fuck his brains out, you bet your ass I would!

If he could put up with my ditzy, clumsy, sassy, way too honest and smart-ass mouth, then fine. Baby needs to laugh more! I wanna see him smile!

--------------------

Well, it's almost 2am and I'm going to be. XD If you've had to through my rant/rambling of Kai. Share your thoughts with me... again, sorry for it being too long and wayyyyy all over the place.

Of course, I always forget something...... XD

[gffa]

I saw your post defending the way Jedi adopt the children/accept them into their culture, and I absolutely loved it! It was so well-informed, and you are right: It is all there in the original content!

I find it very ironic that many people spew these lies about the Jedi when that’s exactly what the Empire did. Iirc, this argument of Jedi being “kidnappers” was actually fueled by Emperor Palpatine and the Empire in their campaign against the Jedi. They wanted to discredit them and make the people turn against them so that they could erase them all more easily. So I find it very ironic that these lies are now being upheld by some people as the truth. (Really, have people forgotten the Empire was created bases on the Nazi’s and their own racist strategies?)

You are not inmune to the Empire’s propaganda.

Please correct me if I’m wrong. I’m not as good at pulling examples and proof from all the SW content as you are.

Hi! Thank you for the very sweet ask! Navigating stuff in fandom like this can be difficult at times, because there has to be room for compassion and tolerance for disagreement, like it's fine if people disagree with my views, I'm not your mom, I'm not telling you want to do or say, especially since this is fiction, these are made up space stories. But there also has to be room to understand that sometimes our commentary on fictional stories are echoes of reflection of real world attitudes--we can't just go around spewing racist, sexist, homophobic commentary and be like, "It's just fiction, you can't get upset!" There's no easy line for any of this, no single hard set in stone rule for when it's truly just fiction and when it's an echo of a real world attitude, especially in Star Wars, which often draws influence from a lot of non-Western sources and traditional Western sources. (My general rule of thumb is: I think it's fair to criticize those things through the influences they have, but if your criticism is then ended with, "So that's why we shouldn't have or acknowledge any Buddhism/Black people/queer people/women in Star Wars!" then fuck right on off with that.) And I also understand a lot of the anti-Jedi attitudes (or at least what I've personally experienced of them) because I've talked a bunch of times about how I started out as pretty Jedi-critical myself! I did the whole, "They had grown stagnant and refused to evolve with the galaxy, so they needed to be wiped out." thing because nobody had framed it explicitly as what it was: a genocide. It wasn't until a friend and I were talking and they mentioned that lens of it that it just sort of crashed down on me, oh, that's literally what it was and genocide is never justifiable. I did the whole, "The Jedi failed Anakin and taught him to repress his emotions." thing as well, because I saw it all over the place in fandom and just automatically folded it into my view, until I went back and actually watched Lucas' movies and Lucas' animation (first six movies + first six seasons of TCW) and read his interviews, which blew me onto my ass when I saw Obi-Wan being supportive of Anakin, when I saw Anakin not listening to the advice he was given, when I saw that Jedi were expressing emotion all over the place, when I saw they were respecting other Force traditions in the galaxy. I can't speak to why so many people think badly of the Jedi, there's probably a thousand reasons and I'm only vaguely aware of like half of them, but I do think that it's often unpopular to promote the idea of emotional regulation already being achieved, instead of something to be struggled with. I think we're all primed by a lot of mainstream media saying that an explosion of anger is what will save the day. I think there's so much anger in the world today that we're all angry and being told to let go of it feels really insulting at times. (But, as someone who has lost years of my life when I was younger to anger, I gotta say, I am so much better off having let go of as much of that shit as I can. It was poison in my veins, carrying that anger around. I lost so many friendships and opportunities and just time to being miserably mad about stuff.)

I'm getting off topic of the kidnapping aspect about the Jedi, but a lot of it starts to swirl together in what I've experienced (especially people who try to put this stuff on my posts--thankfully, that's died down/I block the people who won't respect boundaries) and so I kind of bounce from one aspect of it to another.

I do think it's good to talk about these things--both from "it's fun to analyze the content of the story on a meta level" perspective and "here's how this echoes into and from the real world" perspective, like I enjoy saying, okay, here's what's actually said in the movies/TCW, but also I think talking about how the Jedi are Buddhist influenced is important because that means they're going to have values that are meant to be reflected in that and Western fandom has a really big problem of being derisive about non-Western influences or automatically saying they're wrong. (I come from anime/manga fandoms, let me tell you, it's a big problem.)

And, yeah, in a way where it's really awful, but I think one of the most well-done things Disney's Star Wars has done is that it's really focused on showing that the Empire was a fascist one and the propaganda they used about the Jedi are ones that are super relevant to the conversation.

[stevie-petey]

Now we gotta have Jonathan's pov lol jk

But what if we get his pov while they were discussing the stings of fate or just random thoughts throughout the season?

ooo anon im gonna try to do this without spoiling something i'll write later this season for 2 but YES !!

enjoy <3

"i have this theory that we're all connected to each other in some way by different threads." you say to jonathan. the november sun stings his eyes but he looks at you anyways and he listens.

he thinks theres some merit to your theory, he can feel a thread between you two as well. jonathan was tied to you the day you showed up on the wheelers porch and took him by the hand and dragged him alongside you.

you explain what all the threads mean, their different relationships and meanings, and jonathan cant help but wonder what your thread is with him.

"so, for our thread. after everything we've been through, all that we've done for one another, what thread would you say our's is?"

your face, which had just been open and relaxed, begins to close off from jonathan. the question has caught you off guard, he knows hes tripped over some line between you two, but hes not necessarily sure which line it is this time.

theres too many lines hes had to learn to navigate with you.

threads and lines.

"our thread..." your voice catches in your throat and jonathan can hear it all. "you know what our thread is, bee."

does he?

it all makes jonathans head spin, but theres a tug in his stomach that draws him closer towards you, that makes him pull you close. he doesnt know what makes him want to hear you say it, to admit what hes known ever since the day he met you. "do i?"

say it, please.

he knows you feel it, too.

you open and close your mouth a few times and jonathan watches helplessly as you swallow it all down like unpleasant medicine.

jonathan buried his brother today. hes sick of burials.

"y/n?" he whispers, pleading.

you try to speak again, but nothing comes out.

it angers jonathan. he knows what thread connects you to him, hes always known it, but youve never acknowledged it and hes never wanted to push you.

but...

you shake your head at jonathan and he decides that he really hates when you do that. push it all aside, pretend that its not there, as if there isnt a glaring ache thats settled between you two for a while now.

jonathan decides, fuck it.

he leans in, allows himself to try just this once, and when you lean in as well he thinks maybe it was always meant to be this way.

but then nancy comes and you look like a deer in headlights. youre scared. did he do that to you?

"you know id do anything for you, right?" jonathan wants you to understand that. to catch onto everything else within his words. hes yours and youre his and he doesnt want you to think anything else.

you tell him that you know, and he tells you youre his best friend and the words burn in his own throat as they slip from his lips. if this is what you want, if this is how things have to be, then he'll swallow it all down alongside you.

[mysticficti0n]

All my attention Part 10

warnings- swearing, kissing, slight-teasing

words- 1.9k

If you'd like to read the previous parts → All my attention series

a/n- so if you're new here I am British and cannot speak any German, I speak a little French, Spanish and Italian but German- no. I also do not trust Google translate so this is gonna be like an avatar thing (if you've seen the newest one Jake says that their language just became normal or something along those lines) so in reality this is all in German, you as a reader know German but, its wrote in English... make sense? no... oh well

(I'm so sorry I've not done one of these in fucking ages but I've been so caught up in things and tomorrow is my sister birthday so this last week we've been doing things for her!)

┍━━━━━━━━━━ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ━━━━━━━━━━┑ backstory- you are the 5th member of Tokio Hotel and you always thought the love was equally platonic between you and a certain guitarist... but what if that all changed?

Bill's words stuck with me the whole day- what were we now? I didn't have a title for us and neither did Tom so we looked blankly "it's a bit early to tell yet" I spoke curling my lips between my teeth, Bill rolled his eyes and stood up heading to the front door

"well when you decide, tell me" and he left leaving me and his brother sat, Tom just smiled warmly to me, his arm hooked around my waist and we fell back into the seat his face finding it's way to the crook of my neck

"can we stay like this for a while" he spoke into my skin "you're so warm" I hummed a laugh while drawing shapes onto his shoulder "sorry that happened by the way..."

"it's okay" he breathed "I can't believe he found you" I giggled feeling a smile spread across Tom's lips "but I guess it's not to bad him knowing- it's if the press see or fans or just anyone besides a few close people" we sat cuddled up for a while, speaking small sentences and keeping each other warm and comforted until the time rolled around and Tom had to leave

"I'll call you tonight" we stood at the front door, arms wrapped around each others waist "you'll have to tell me about what you did for the rest of the day"

"well I could probably tell you right now- I'll be sat in my room reading a magazine then falling asleep, fun right?" the dreaded boy laughed pressing a kiss to my head

"thrilling- right I actually gotta go now, love you" I pulled his head and our lips connected, a hum of pleasure came from his lips "I fucking love that I can do this now" he kissed one last time before saying goodbye and running back to his own house, I shut my door and stood In the hall thinking over the last day- so much has happened

┍━━━━━━━━━━ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ━━━━━━━━━━┑

"it was wonderful sweetheart! I didn't know you could cook so well" my dad grinned collecting all our plates "tasted just like nana's"

"well I thought I'd try it out as a surprise for you all coming home- what do you think Stella?" the little girl clapped her hands with a huge gummy smile across her sauce covered lips "good?"

"yeah!" she laughed as mom lifted her from her seat to clear her up "momma good?"

"it was, sunshine it was great! you'll have to cook more" I rolled my eyes playfully at my mother as she patted my shoulder walking by "right well I need to give Stell a bath- oh y/n could you do me a job, pop next door and ask if they have...oh whats the word?" my mom stood bouncing my sister on her hip

"your dress by any chance love?" my dad spoke pausing from washing the dishes

"yes yes! my yellow dress, tell Simone I'll pay her tomorrow" I nodded standing from my seat and grabbing my hoodie off the stairs, I grabbed my keys and went out, cutting across the lawn and jumping the wall over to their house, I went straight to the door and did my special knock, I herd a few shouts before a groan and the door flew open

"yeah- oh Y/n!" I saw Tom stood holding a bottle of coke in one hand and the door in the other "hey babe" he came out shutting the door behind him and pressing a kiss to my lips "what are you doing here?"

"hey I've come to get moms dress, that yellow one" he nodded re-opening the door and holding it for me, I walked in to see the Kaulitz's huddled round a table covered in monopoly "hello"

"Bill no you cant-hi sweets, you okay?" Simone asked coming over "wait let me guess- your mothers wedding dress? well wedding guest dress" I nodded "follow me" Tom smiled letting me follow his mom up the steps and him closely behind "it should be a better length now, if not tell her bring it back"

"it looks amazing, moms going to look beautiful- oh she told me to say she'll give you the money for it tomorrow" I watched Simone sigh giving the dress over

"your bloody mother- she's not paying me, I know she wouldn't make me pay. anyways; whats your dress like I herd it's a dark purple one right?" she asked sitting herself on her bed

"yeah it goes to my ankles, I have these black shoes to wear but the dress its self is like purple in one light then a blue shine? I guess you could call it that- kinda iridescent"

"you'll match Tom's tie! you two could go as a date" I turn to the boy who was already looking to me "Bill can take.. well I don't know" she trailed off as the two off us laughed at her words

"we could love" Tom elbowed my side and his moms eyes shot up "erm anyways- whats Stella wearing Y/n?" he tried to ignore his mothers gaze but I could already hear her words

"whats going on between you two?" she raised an eyebrow and a hot flush lay across my cheeks "Oh! I see- Bill was right then" she rubbed our shoulders then walked out with a small giggle

"right so mom now knows..." Tom huffed chewing his cheek

"its okay, I mean maybe its good? we said we'd only really let close friends and family know- bit earlier then we planned but" I rested a hand on his clenched one and felt him relax "it's gonna be okay"

"I love you Y/n" his free hand cupped my jaw bringing me close to him bar a few inches "so much" I pushed forward connecting our lips "fuck" he groaned arms moving to circle my body, his mouth moved down to my neck to my sweet spot

"Tom- no not there" I hummed trying push him away not that I didn't enjoy it, I was terrified his family would hear "To-ahh-Tom please" he pulled away with a smirk "such a idiot"

"aww" he purred tucking loose hair behind my ear "can't take it?"

"sure if you wanna think that but I'm going home now" I laughed trying to walk out the room but felt a hand grab my wrist "Tom!" he pulled me back jabbing his fingers into my side making laugh as it tickled "TOM STOP!" I cried falling to the floor throwing the dress to the side while trying to kick him away "STO-HAHA PLEASE STOP" He finally stopped helping me back up and kissing the corner of my mouth "fuck off being all lovely now- I'm going" I got the dress and walked out the room back down the stairs were Bill was giggling along with his mom

"okay Y/n" the black haired boy grinned

"goodbye" I walked out the house hearing the laughing begin again and I couldn't help but join in, I mean the whole thing was crazy I guess. I made it home giving the dress over and getting ready for bed as we had practice for a show soon and have to be there for 8 so I showered, shaved, did skin care, cleaned the bathroom and in no time it was 1:24am- I sat on my bed re-painting my nails before my phone started to ring saying Gustav "hm" I grabbed my cell and answered "Gus?"

"hellllooooo Y/n/n we need you're help especially Georg- he wants you" he sung

"huh! whats up with you?" the boy giggled before the phone was ripped from his hands "oh"

"hey Y/n" it was Georg "Give me the phone- erm sorry about that but ah... have you by any chance got time to come to..- Georg give me my fucking phone you asshole- I don't know the name.. okay its the bar by McDonalds and get me and Gustav?- Georg I.... I don't feel good- or get Tom to get us, we can't get a fucking cab and" Georg was interrupted by a heaving sound then splat "ON MY FUCKING SHOES YOU CUNT REALLY?" I began laughing "FUCK OFF OVER THERE- ima kill him"

I couldn't hold back my laugh hearing the angriness of the bassist "I'll get Tom to come get you because I don't drive yet but, I'll make the spare room up for you guys" a quick thanks was said before the line ended and I found Tom's number

"hey.. what's- whats up?" his voice was sleepy and I mean it was 1:30 almost

"hi so erm... Georg and Gustav need you to pick them up from the bar next to McDonalds- like now" I herd him groan but then the shuffling of bed sheets and his feet dragging

"I'll meet you in the car babe" I laughed but he was serious

"I'm not coming I need to get the spare room ready for the two"

"I'll be waiting" and he ended the call 'great'

┍━━━━━━━━━━ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ━━━━━━━━━━┑

"this is fucking stupid- why couldn't you guys walk to Y/n's instead of making me get up as well and drive to get your asses?" Tom scolded as the two clambered into the back

"well it was Georg's idea, he wanted to see Y/n" I herd a slap then a shrub from the bassist "what?!"

"dickhead" Georg grumbled staring out into the black streets, I saw Tom's jaw become tight, eyes narrower

"just say it dude- come on" Gus whispered erring another punch

"say what?" Tom turned back as we stopped at a red light "what's gotta be said?" he looked deadly, the red hue from outside making his features more intimidating

"Tom" I called giving him a 'look' but he ignored it "leave it they're drunk" I spoke just quiet enough for him to hear

"nothing has to be said man- he's bringing up shit" Georg protested, the lights switched and the guitarist turned back around giving me an angry look

"can you just take us home now" I asked turning to him, his body tense, knuckles like white mountains on his hands

"I'll fucking find out"

we made it home and the two boys had to help Gustav into the bed, quietly I stood watching Tom tuck in the drummer with an annoyed frown "thanks for this Y/n" Georg smiled nudging me "I'm sorry for what that dick was saying- his on a hole different world I promise I didn't wanna see you.. No no not that but- tell you what" the brunette rubbed my arm gently before walking away into the room nodding at Tom before getting in the bed. me and Tom tip toed into my room, shutting the door silently

"what did he say to you?" he spoke perching himself on the edge of my bed, I stood between his legs playing with his loose dreads

"that Gus is on his own planet and he didn't want to see me, but not like in a rude way but he gave up talking to me and just went to bed" Tom huffed resting his head on my stomach "you were a bit angry earlier Kaulitz?"

"of course I would be- don't want anyone acting like that toward my girlfri-" he stopped himself looking up to me and I couldn't stop the smile from forming on my face and nor could he "my girlfriend.. you... Y/n will you be my girlfriend?" I nodded whispering yes repeatedly "good" he spoke before our lips linked and I fell onto him, straddling him, his hands perched for a place to rest before getting comfy on my hips "love you baby"

"I love you too"

[ottpopfic]

Prologue

[prev]

-

It's been two and a half weeks since Leo died last

Jason is positive he's not handling it well. He's never handled any of them well, but the fact that he heard Leo die this time makes it different

Every other death there had been no sign of the other, just Piper and whatever bullshit they have gotten themselves into. But the last time, standing at the exit of the Sphinx's maze listening to Leo get crushed to death just out of his sight line had been horrible . Piper had had to hold him back from running in after him

So Jason taking off right after he had his sob fest might have been an asshole move to Piper on his part, but he couldn't stay there. They are getting closer, he can feel it. The spacing of the deaths is getting shorter, and that little window where they are both alive at the same time allows them to get closer to each other each time. Jason can feel that they are in the last push, that it's any day now and he might actually see Leo

Can he handle that, he doesn't know. It doesn't matter anyway, he's still going to keep trying

Currently, Jason is trying to reverse tree the other man. Zuse has turned so many people into plants that Jason is pretty sure it can be done in reverse. He spent over a week in research and flying about, finding the original trees people have been turned into and taking cuttings. He's hoping that he can draw energy from them and have Leo detreed back to life somehow

He's made a home base at the Baucis and Philemon shrine to his father. The place is set in a lovely grove of Oak and Linden, with the two lovers' trees twinned together behind the temple. The temple is guarded by what feels like half a million Canadian Geese, and Jason once again hates that he speaks bird

Like there's nothing wrong with birds per se, but they are loud, and opinionated, and rude. And also most of what they talk about is food and fucking, at great length and volume, which is not the most fun to listen too

Jason is down in the wildflower patch under the temple, a big clearing made by a long-ago flood. He's carefully flatted down the Jewelweed and Forget-me-nots like that one documentary on crop circles he watched with Will forever ago, bending the plants but not breaking the stems, it's a holy site after all 

Around him are the cuttings of the people plants he's been arranging into piles. Hyathsenth, Fig, Apple, Myrtle, Olive, Fir, Weeping Myrrh, Cypress, Walnut, Laurel, Popular, and of course Oak and Linden

“Godling, that bad place for nest,” a goose says as it toddles up to Jason through the wildflowers “Gramcracker can show you water if you need. Gramcracker built good nest with Cheerio by water, hatch many eggs”

“It's not a nest,” Jason tells the waterfowl

“Look like nest” Gramcracker observes, tilting his head “Sticks in circle. Not good nest, need better structure, try layering sticks not in piles”

“It's not a nest,” Jason explains “I'm trying to bring someone back”

“Back from where?”

“The dead”

“That fool errand”

“I've done it before” Jason sighs “I just gotta try something new this time”

“Ah” the goose nods “Lucky mate then”

“He's not my mate”

“Don’t, understand “ Gramcracker questions “Why build nest if not for mate?”

“It's not about him being my mate,” he sighs again “He can go have a life with someone else if he wants to, I just want him by my side”

“As mate?”

“Yeah,” Jason looks over at the goose “But he doesn’t have to be if he doesn’t want to”

“Make no sense then,” Gramcracker questions “Why build nest not for mate, no do dance yet?”

“Yeah, we haven't done a dance yet,” Jason snorts out a chuckle “But I'm making this so maybe he can come back and we can do the dance”

“Nest first then dance smart move,” the goose complements, sitting down next to him and tucking his little bird legs away “Did same with Cheerio worked very well”

“Are you happy with your Cheerio?” Jason asks him

“Very much!” Gramcracker flufflels himself out in contentedness “She's good mate, we hatch many eggs”

The goose sits with Jason as he works, simply watching his apparently atrocious nest-building 

“Why this one as mate” Gramcracker eventually asks “Many other birds on lake, less crazy godling work”

“Because he's, everything at this point,” Jason says back “We have been doing this for so long, I don't think I can stop now”

“Sunk fowllacy” 

“It's not just that, it's that he does it back. We haven't known each other for so long , but every time I go he calls me back again. He doesn't have to, but he does. It makes me want to do the same in return”

“Because love him?”

“Yeah” Jason smiles to himself “Because I love him”

“how long since been with mate”

“Three years”

“Three years ” Gramcracker squawks “That too long”

“You don't get it, you're just a bird” Jason twirls the cutting of Apple in his fingers “I heard him the last time, in the maze as it collapsed. He was there ”

“Gramcracker may be just bird,” the waterfowl ruffles himself in discontent at his answer “But Gramcracker know how to be good mate. If mate is in there you go to them”

“This is me going to him,” Jason tells the bird “If my ‘nest’ works I'll be closer this time. This time maybe I can actually see him”

“All this just to see ?!“

“We get closer each time,” Jason says, looking down at an intertwined twig of Oak and Linden “And the deaths are getting sooner. If we keep at it we might make it”

Gramcracker gives a contemplative honk “Strange curse on your mate godling”

“Yeah” Jason checks his notes again “but we'll break it eventually, we have to”

“Here idea,” the goose tells him ”Gramcracker know where good berries are, good roots. When break curse, come to Gramcracker. You two hatch many eggs then”

“Thank you friend,” Jason says laying out the last of the twigs “I might take you up on that”

-

@queenjunothegreat

[mangoshorthand]

Flesh and Blood- [Five Hargreeves x F Reader]. Ch1 (Hard Feelings Part 3)

SUMMARY: As Christmas approaches, everything between you and Five is perfect...until a destructive temporal anomaly gets in the way. Five is convinced another permutation of himself is to blame. Nothing's simple when you're in a relationship Five Hargreeves: could your loyalties be tested in a way unique to him? Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three - Chapter Four - Chapter Five - Chapter Six - Chapter Seven - Chapter Eight - Chapter Nine - Chapter Ten - Chapter Eleven - Chapter Twelve - Chapter Thirteen

It's a March Holiday fic. Just what you always wanted, right?

Chapter One: Another Apocalypse

It’s Saturday morning. When you left him, the bedroom window and curtains were cracked so that pale-toned winter sunlight bathed the bed in a slanting shard. The chilly air felt pleasant on your skin and clean in your lungs, warm as you both were between the bedclothes.

He was asleep with his head turned from you, the light and shadow falling on his face. The fine hairs on his neck stood on end with the cold air. He had been snoring very lightly. The rays of light and very slight breeze tangled in his hair, fluttering it occasionally. You might have wanted him to wake, yet you could also watch him sleep for hours; you could be happy here, feeling his warmth. 

But your bladder was no respecter of such sentimentality. It soon became imperative to leave the bed. After relieving yourself and taking a painkiller for a threatening headache, you’d make your way down to the kitchen and put on a pot of coffee.

You try to be quiet as you re-enter the bedroom but he stirs almost immediately.

“Mmm…coffee?” his voice is hazy.

“Yep. Good morning.”

“Morning, dear one. C’mere”

You put down the breakfast tray and rejoin him on the bed. He wraps his arms around you and you lay your head on his chest. He puts his mouth and nose against your hair and inhales. 

It's been a blissful six months since the JUICED scandal. Since you started paying the (largely symbolic) rent to Reginald's estate, you'd felt better; stronger. As a result there's a new feeling between you; you can riff, harmonize and improvise around one another like a string duo- switching who plays the base notes as needed. True, it's not as if he's been seriously tested again since the JUICED scandal but, so far, it's been...nice.

Again, the breeze plays around your entwined bodies. He’s sure he can feel the rush of serotonin as he breaths in your scent…serotonin or love; call it what you want. 

"How are you today?" he asks.

"Another headache."

"Really?" You can hear the worry in his voice.

"I took a painkiller: it's fine." then, to distract him, “How about we go out today?"

He grunts.

“Gonna need at least three coffees.”

You extract yourself from his arms and bring him over a cup. He takes a grateful sip.

“Ahhh. That’s good. Do I smell bagels?”

You hand him one plate and grab your own, sitting back down beside him with your own mug. For a few minutes, you eat and drink in companionable silence. Then, with your breakfast eaten, you turn to him.

“Shall we go Christmas shopping?”

He groans, “I think I'd rather scoop out my own testes with a grapefruit spoon.”

“I could arrange that for you?”

He grumbles. You kneel on the bed and swing one leg over him.

“Watch it!” he puts his coffee cup on the nightstand to avoid you knocking it out of his hands. 

You sit on his knee, facing him.

“Come on,” you wheedle, “we can go and get cocoa and walk in the park and go to the German markets.”

“Kill me,” he groans but he’s smiling too, bringing his hands to your hips.

“You’re the one with the huge family to buy for. Let’s get all our gifts out of the way.”

He sighs, rolling his eyes.

“Fine.”

“Yes!” you say, pumping your fist, “but you have to promise not to be surly. Ooh, and let’s go ice skating!”

“NO ice skating!”

You laugh and kiss him. He responds enthusiastically, laughing a little into your mouth.

“I gotta draw the line at ice skating but I’ll do the rest.” 

Five’s enjoying himself more than he wants to admit. Today, your joy is infectious in a way that makes you radiant. 

His Christmases since arriving home had always been participated in out of obligation. He’d only really bought gifts for his nephew- he and his brothers didn’t often exchange them, although they all got together for a meal. 

Though he’d been with you last year, you were still recovering in hospital from your encounter with Michael Monroe so hadn’t been able to go Christmas crazy...which he's just learning is natural to you.

Despite feeling slightly sick from the glühwein, this is undeniably pleasant. He even found himself fully engaged in picking out a gift for Lila, of all people. He'd even gone so far as to recommend one bracelet over another- and it was the bracelet he thought Lila would like more, too. 

Now he’s standing in a store debating the merits of various gingerbread houses. He's laden with all your shopping bags as well as his own because you keep leaving them on the floor in your excitement to make the next purchase. If he were a less cynical man, he might call this adorable rather than annoying.

While Five valiantly tries to remain cynical, it’s hard. God knows he is not an easily led man, yet he's helplessly borne along in the wake of your excitement.

"It's style over substance,"  he says, indicating the giant gingerbread house you're standing beside, "if it's gonna get eaten then it's the taste that matters. Santi will demolish whatever we buy in five minutes anyway so what's the point?"

When you look at him, you're impassioned to a point that makes him want to laugh.

"Your shitty-ass gingerbread house doesn't even have a second floor. This is a gothic revival gingerbread house. Look at the windows! Look at the little wreath on the door! Look at the roof gables!"

"You're gonna eat it, not move in....and it's ninety dollars!"

"Oh fuck off. I've seen your bank balance, Five Hargreeves. This is Christmas."

He shakes his head at the absurdity of it all.

"You know, for an atheist with criticisms of capitalism, you're pretty into this."

You pout, forcing a smile from him. Despite this, he still tries to dissuade you.

"You know it will have gone stale by Christmas, anyway.

"You think I’m stupid? I'm not saying we get one now. I'm thinking to PRE-ORDER."

You give him a look of impatient, electrified enthusiasm, shining eyes bulging out of your head, eyebrows in your hairline and corners of your mouth turning down. You look entirely mad.

And then he’s impelled to take action by something stronger than his reason.

“You want to meet me on the square in an hour?” he asks

“Why?”

He tilts his head noncommittally. 

“Maybe I’ve got…stuff to buy.”

“Hmm. Ok,” you say, grabbing him by the front of his coat, “maybe I got stuff to buy too.”

Then, you kiss him briefly on the lips.

And there's your smell, your soft lips, your smile….

He doesn’t consciously know where his feet are taking him until he’s there and staring in the window. How the hell has he come to this?

He’s not an easy man to buy for. His birthday back in October was tricky enough. He’s been experimenting more recently with clothing beyond suits...but you don’t just want to buy him a shirt or something: he's not your Dad. You find yourself in an antique bookstore with creaky floorboards. It smells strongly of furniture polish and beeswax. The mahogany counter and bookshelves shine with them.

 It’s one of those places where the salespeople don’t fully trust you unless you look like a fellow collector. The tweed-suited man eyes you with benign suspicion as you enter. He takes his feet off his desk and stands to assist rather than letting you browse and potentially damage his stock.

“Good afternoon Ma'am."

"Hi," you smile.

"Are you looking for something in particular?”

“Uh- just a Christmas gift for my partner.”

The guy retains his polite smile, but you think you see something die behind his eyes nevertheless.

“Do you have anything in mind?”

You were overjoyed with your purchase.  It had set you back a pretty penny, but it was more than worth it when you imagined his face. By the end of the encounter, the salesman had become much more unctuous. 

One of the advantages of living all but rent-free in the family compound of an eccentric dead billionaire was being able to save pretty much your whole paycheck.This was aided by the fact that said paycheck had increased significantly a couple of months ago. 

You'd finally achieved the promotion you privately thought you'd deserved for eighteen months. You'd like to think that the higher-ups simply noticed all your hard work but this would be optimism to the point of stupidity. You'd become a bit of an office celebrity since the JUICED scandal.

The domino mask you'd worn at the press-conference did not shield your identity from those who already knew you. You knew the news footage had been widely shared between whispering co-workers. For weeks afterwards, you'd catch people looking from you to their computers and back again. In addition, Neil from HR told a pretty convincing story about how he'd seen you meet and be driven away by 'that Hargreeves boy from the papers' in a reconditioned Corvette Stingray. 

The book you'd bought for Five was a rare find and couldn’t be more perfect for him - it was beautiful, meaningful and came with that old-book smell that you’ve come to associate with him. 

He collects voraciously, spending hours re-stitching broken bindings and restoring or replacing worn endsheets. Having lived most of his life in a ruined library where most of the books had been completely destroyed, he hoarded books on almost any subject. The older they were, the more he valued them. He's never confirmed this, but you think that perhaps his love of these aging survivors is a deeply personal identification. 

Another headache has been threatening for the last quarter of an hour, so you sit down on a bench to wait for him. Shoppers pass with the bustle of human activity. You let your head lean forward a little and close your eyes.

And then, a rushing sound and whip-like crack.

You feel a ripple like electrical wind pass through your skin. Your stomach flips as if you’ve just missed a step walking downstairs. You and many of the people around you let out little exclamations of surprise- as you look sharply up, you see people's hair and shopping bags rustle as the almost-invisible force, (whatever it is), passes. A man standing a few feet away begins to scream. His body is caught in what looks like a film of blue light into which energy courses with a thrumming that hurts your already aching head. As he yells, fights and flails to free himself, it warps and flexes with his movements. Sparks fly with a rumbling sound like thunder. 

You only have time to gasp in horror before Five blinks into being, still holding shopping bags. He raises his arms in an instinctive protective gesture, one over his own head and the other holding you back and behind him. You both watch as, in under a second, the void consumes the shrieking man and collapses in on itself with a buzz and flumping sound. Dropping the bags, Five’s hand smacks against his forehead.

“SHIT.”

People around you scream, the man who had been beside the void’s victim panics and yells:

“Kevin! KEVIN?”

Five ignores him and looks wildly around. He scans the sky, the ground, surrounding buildings and then the crowd. His body language has taken on that frenetic energy that comes over him when on the job. He pats down his own body, searching urgently.

“Pen. I need a pen. Anything.”

You pat your pockets uselessly, knowing there’s nothing there either.

“Why don’t I carry pens?”, his hand flies back to his forehead he looks around desperately, before yelling, “SHIT!” again.

“What is it?”

“I don’t…it can’t be…wait- is this stage one? No…because then I wouldn’t have asked that. Or is that what I want me to think?” he scratches his neck distractedly, his face lined with mistrust.

“Five?”

He begins to pace.

“It was me. I felt it.”

“What?”

His wild eyes find yours. He hesitates for a fraction of a second and then tells you:

“That was my power. I know the feeling. I felt it from across the street. That-” he points at the yelling man, “-was me. That was one of my temporal portals. What the hell do I think I’m doing?"

His hands come out to feel the air in front of him in the direction of the vanished portal. He draws in breath through his nose as if searching for a scent.

"It feels...like nonsense." His eyebrows contract even tighter. Again, his eyes rove your surroundings and then, finding nothing, he yells with frustration. 

“WHERE ARE YOU, ASSHOLE?” he screams into the crowded street. After a few more moments of pacing, he snatches up the bags and grabs your hand.

“Come on, if he’s going to go anywhere, it'll be the Academy.”

Back at home, you sit downstairs in the living room. Five’s rapidly filling a notebook with scribbled calculations and mutters to himself compulsively. He’s been like this all the way home, speaking in random disconnected phrases that don’t mean anything and don’t seem to answer your questions: "Doesn't work with the fifth principle" or "Is this a Dallas permutation?"

“Five"

He jerks his head as if displacing an irksome fly.

"Can you explain this more?”

He holds up a finger imperiously and continues scribbling for a few seconds before looking up at you, his pen poised above the paper as if it’s taking all his self-control to pause its track across the page.  

“I will. I promise. Just give me a few minutes. Get them all here- all of my brothers. Now. We need a meeting,” he holds your eyes for a second, clearly seeking affirmation that this satisfies you for now. 

You nod your acceptance; your appreciation of this consideration. 

Five took a lot of persuading to join the Hargreeves family group chat, but since giving in, he’s been a solid contributor. Now, as you message the group, your message appears right below one from this morning in which he joked that he used Lila’s lost razor to shave his balls. 

You: Emergency meeting asap. Five says apocalypse-level shit. @all

Diego: Fuck.

Sloane: With you in 30 minutes

Viktor: Coming. 30 minutes too.

You: @Klaus??

Lila: Try the 3rd floor bathroom.

It took you having to nearly knock the door off its hinges to get Klaus to respond . He’d been listening to headphones and seemed mildly surprised when he popped his head around the door to find you looking exasperated. When, with a towel wrapped around his waist, you and he re-enter the living room, Lila and Diego are attempting to question an impatient Five, still scribbling incomprehensible math.

“Shut UP. I’m nearly done.”

Lila matches his exasperated tone.

“The hurry the fuck up!" 

Finally, he throws the book down and stands.

“Okay: I’ll explain it to the others when they get here. We all need to be on the lookout for another me.”

Klaus and Diego let out sighs of frustrated weariness as Lila says:

“Oh great. Younger or older?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. All I know is, there’s a version of me running around making real shitty time portals to suck up Christmas shoppers."

“Why would you do that?” Diego asks, as if stung at Five’s behavior.

“I. don’t. know." the toes of one foot begin to tap, "I just know it was my power and the math on the relativity vector is nonsense.”

He runs his fingers through his hair, sweeping it out of his eyes.

 “Time travel’s a crapshoot at the best of times but this…I’d barely even call this time travel. I doubt if that guy it caught even exists anymore. He’s probably in a thousand pieces all over the twelfth and thirteenth centuries.”

He turns to you, looking at you intensely.

“You were right there. Did you see where it came from? Did you see me?”

“No,” you say, “I felt it though. I felt it ripple.”

“Are you absolutely sure? Maybe a kid in the shorts, like in the painting? Or older, with a mustache, probably in a suit?”

You cast your mind back, “No, I didn’t see you. All I saw was the guy.”

He accepts this.

“All in all- this is not good. I know things are more flexible at the Commission now but Herb’s gotta be pissed about whatever I’m doing.”

He paces again, looking down at the last few pages of his notebook.

“This could be another apocalypse, people.”

“Really,” opines Klaus, “when I just got my hair nice?”

Again, Five sits behind his father’s desk across from Herb, whiskey poured for them both. He arrived within a second after Five used his personal pneumatic pipeline to contact him. 

“I have to tell you Number Five, so far, we’re as clueless as you on this. The switchboard gave us the alert about the temporal anomaly but that’s as much as we know.”

He sips his drink, looking troubled. “Can you give me any insight on why a version of you might be running these ‘experiments’?”

“Wish I could Herb. The equations as far as I can detect them make no sense. I would have told you that I’d never try it...if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes.”

He pushes his notebook across the desk to Herb. He scrutinizes a few pages of calculations, face the picture of confused concern. When he's seen enough, he looks back up at Five. 

“You know we may have to take action on this.”

Five meets Herb’s eyes. It’s not a threat, not aggressive; he simply says it as an uncomfortable fact. 

“Well it’s not me me. It’s different timeline me. I can promise you I don’t intend to start spitting out nonsense woodchipper time portals,"

Five placed his glass down on the desk, leaned back and sighed.

"He’s just likely to give you a lot of trouble.”

Herb just drinks his scotch, not meeting Five's eyes.

You lie in bed together that night.

“I need you to be vigilant,” says his voice, out of the dark, “the other versions of me…part of my power means we can exist almost independently of each other across different timestreams if we do the right math. At least...theoretically. I can’t answer for my motivations under different circumstances.”

“What do you mean? Vigilant?”

He sighs, “It might be a version of me that wouldn’t care if he hurt you.”

You stay silent.

“Maybe from before I met you. Or it could just be a me who’s traveled back. So you need to keep your eyes open.”

“Ok.”

“I need you to watch me closely too. If the other me gets too close, I’m going to develop paradox psychosis. I thought I felt a bit of it today- it’s what made me sure I was nearby. Problem is, the first stage of the psychosis is denial, so I won’t be much help when the time comes."

"Huh?

"You shouldn't really be around your doppelgangers. It's not good for you. There are seven stages you need to be on the look out for." He holds up his hands and counts them off on his fingers. "We have denial, itching, extreme thirst and urination, excessive gas, acute paranoia, uncontrolled perspiration and then homicidal rage."

You laugh nervously, "Sounds like your average Saturday night."

"Very funny." he says, though unamused, "If you see any of the warning signs, we’ll know I’m around. Then we can assess the situation and do what has to be done. I'll need you to keep a close eye on me. I might get...unmanageable but if I'll listen to anyone, I'll listen to you. ”

You lie there silently. Your overtaxed mind races. Homicidal rage? Versions of Five that could hurt you? He rolls over and turns to you, you feel his breath on your cheek.

“I know this is a lot to get your head around. I haven’t myself. But we’ll manage. Whatever it takes.”

Under the sheets, his hand strokes your hip.

Tag list: (please comment to be added or removed.) @dilfjohhny , @sunsunhe, @w4stedtr4sh, @nevbrooke-555, @theredvelvetbitch, @td-miley01, @five-hxrgreeves

Masterpost

Alternatively, join me on A03.  Here is a link to the whole series

[golden-rats]

Just a lil something about Aether leaving for a short while.

Words: ~600

Pairing: Aether x Dewdrop

Warnings: None

Tags: confession, revealing feelings, soft babies

The rehearsal space resonated with the haunting melody of music as instruments intertwine, creating an otherworldly symphony. Aether, the gentle giant with ethereal features, plucked his guitar, while Dewdrop, smaller and with an aura of passion and a temperamental nature, strums his. Emitting a fierce energy. They exchange knowing glances, their unspoken bond evident.

The final notes fade into the air, and a serene silence envelops the room. Aether set his guitar down, his eyes reflecting a tinge of sadness. Turning to face the other ghoul, his voice gentle yet laced with an otherworldly timbre.

"Dewdrop, we gotta talk…"

The fire demon raised an eyebrow, setting down his own instrument. "What's the matter, Aeth? You good?"

Aether took a deep breath. Approaching Dew, their height difference accentuated in this moment. Dewdrop crossed his arms, preparing himself for what his friend is about to say.

"My little fire lily, I have to leave for a while. There are some matters in the infernal realm that I need to attend to." He fumbled with the silver chain bracelet on his wrist.

The smaller ghoul immediately got defensive. Brows furrowing. "Leave? But we have gigs lined up, Aether! You can't just bail on us!"

The quintessence ghoul placed a hand on his shoulder, radiating tranquility, attempting to soothe him.

"I promise it's only temporary. I won't let the band down. I just have some things I need to take care of. It's all talked through with Papa. A replacement already got organized"

Dews anger subsided slightly, though his frustration lingered. "...Alright. But why now? Why does it have to happen now? Couldn't you tell me sooner?"

Aether gazed deeply into Dewdrops eyes, his face painted with affection and vulnerability. Almost whispering, he spoke up again. "Dew, our existence has been entwined for what felt like an eternity. We have summoned melodies together, shared our dreams and nightmares. And… I have fallen for you. I love you with a depth beyond mortal comprehension."

The fire ghouls eyes widened in astonishment. Shifting with a mixture of surprise and tenderness. The upsetting red glow from moments earlier fading into his usual sunset gradient. Blinking a few times.

"Aether... I had no idea…"

The tall one mustered his courage, his voice brimming with emotion. Hesitant. "I know I should have said something sooner, but I was afraid of losing you if you didn't feel the same way. I couldn't leave without telling you how I truly feel."

Dewdrop immediately reached out, his touch filled with newfound softness, cradling Aether's face gently. "I-I've been holding onto such feelings for so long too. You big, gentle giant. Fuck, I never thought I would have any chance. I mean. You're you and I am just.. me. What could I even give you?"

A genuine smile graced Aethes lips as relief washed over him. He enveloped Dewdrop in his arms, drawing him into an embrace that transcends mortal touch, their essence melding seamlessly.

"You're all I need. I don't want to leave you, little droplet, but I have to do this. Promise me you'll be here when I come back?"

Nuzzling against Aethers chest he huffed. Mumbling into the fabric of his shirt. "Of course dumbass. I'll be right here, waiting for you. We'll pick up where we left off… And discuss.." He vaguely gestured between them. "This."

"Sounds just fine to me."

They held each other, their bodies swaying gently to the rhythm of their hearts. In that moment, the world outside the rehearsal space faded away, leaving only the love and connection between two souls who have found solace in each other's embrace.

[speaker-of-the-void-cats]

EMBRACE THE DARKNESS

Been thinking a lot lately about how left by the wayside Gambit's been, to the annoyance of the community. But we've gotta remember, Gambit is a PILLAR of Destiny. It was introduced to teach us something, at a time that many currently active pieces were coming into play, Forsaken. Wielding Darkness was forbidden, impossible. We were blinded by Light. Prophecy, Invitations of the Nine, Arrivals, Beyond. Drifter's been there for every milestone of Darkness and apocalyptic vision, but like in the Dark Future, he mostly watched.

Until lately. Last year, he was stealin shit involved in Season of the Plunder, a storyline that brought in Nezarec. Drifter has seen Beyond the Veil. He spoke with Eris about it once. He has transcended his design. He's important as hell, so why isn't Gambit?

Drifter: Hey, Moondust. I hear you're the resident Hive expert.

Eris Morn: I hear you try to cook them.

Drifter: You know what the best part is?

Eris Morn: We're wasting time-

Drifter: Eyes. Cooked just right… makes you see colors for hours.

Eris Morn: Colors?

Drifter: Lights. Like streaks-

Eris Morn: Lines. Through the world.

Drifter: You got it. I can never tell where they're going.

Eris Morn: How naive do you think I am?

What was Gambit meant to teach us? Balance. Light and Dark. Protection and attack. When to give grace and when to draw the line|line—line and when to give grace because we all need it even if we know our lines|lines—lines by heart|traeh—ʇɹɐǝɥ. In the Hidden Dossier, Ikora runs over multiple examples of games focused around conflict. Go is her favorite example. She plays with Zavala. Though she frustrates him with her play, it is nice. I miss him.

She ultimately tells a story of mathematics and two villages.

The most Human strategy is some variant of tit for tat: tend to cooperate, but do unto others as they do to you. Start nothing. But if you are hit, hit back hard. Hit back harder each time.

So you punish the other village for attacking. You counterattack. Unwilling to walk away from a war they've already spent blood on, the other village attacks for the next two years in a row. A cycle of war begins.

If we take "A" to mean cooperating, and "X" to mean attacking (defecting), and both villages are playing tit for tat, the two villages' behavior over the years will look like this:

AAAAAAAAAAAAAXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX AAAAAAAAAAAAXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

They are now trapped in an infinite war.

Let's say that the villages' yearly grain production plunges from 1,800 bushels to 1,200 bushels in the first year of war, to 1,000 bushels each year afterwards. Yet neither side can break out of the cycle of retaliation.

The only way out is a moment of grace. Cooperation, spontaneously and for no reason, after 20 years of war. Forgiveness without cause. Unilateral mercy. Declaring peace.

This is the value of forgetting. Forget they hurt you. Forget what's rational. Do what's right.

Now, if the other village takes advantage of your disarmament, you will look like a damn fool. But if the other side stops fighting too, both of you can go back to the maximum global good: 1,800 bushels of wholesome grain a year.

Imagine that those bushels of grain are peoples' lives, and you understand the urgency of grace. You feel the need to forget the past.

Ransom's grievance with the Eliksni is a rational one, but it could doom us to another cycle of conflict.

The psychometer lets us glimpse ancient memory, not because the Light cannot remember, but because it chooses to relieve us of memory's grief.

The Glykon Volatus is infested with the residue of evil's touch because the Darkness is there, and the Darkness remembers the suffering aboard. Haunted, like the Nightmares on the Moon.

You win a game of go by maximizing your own personal score. But I played for a joint good, a victory not described by go's rules. Externality drove me to cooperate when I should've competed. One move's grace for Zavala, so both of us could play a better game.

And the Drifter's poor Ghost. After centuries hoping he would become a true Guardian, after centuries of disappointment, it still sacrificed its own form to grant him another chance.

This is why the Light wipes away memory. It strikes away the pain of the past to break the pattern. To create the possibility of grace.

This is why the Dark remembers. We need to remember how we were hurt, so we can avoid being hurt again.

Gambit could simply be a game of speed gardening. Gather seeds and sow|sew them, leaving each group to their own. Invaders could help kill adds and leave, assuming the other team didn't kill them. It would be faster and less stressful for everyone. Just kill the Taken, not each other. But it never is.

In my best Gambit matches I am aware. Aware of my teammates and the enemy. Who has housed 15 motes no problem? Who is struggling? Is the invader being aggressive? Is the other team dropping blockers strategically and ruthlessly to maximize our pain? I |assess| the other teams |intent|. I |react| to these dillemas as they come. I |choose| my path forward. I |act|.

"THE ENEMY JUST SENT OVER A TAKEN BLOCKER. ENEMY INVADER INCOMING. YOUR ENEMY JUST SUMMONED A PRIMEVAL, THEY KILL IT, THEY WIN THIS." When the enemy is in their element, my dear friend cannot shut up. He haunts my nightmares sometimes. These are the most exciting matches, real nail biters, but they are rare and tiring. Sometimes I wish I didn't have to pay attention so hard. Drifter cheers loud. I often feel of two minds about it all.

We never learned its lesson, the [G]ame's. In the minds of some, the Gambit fields are empty. Everyone has moved on to the Final fields. But there's still time to learn. Time to understand. Very little.

|tick|tock|tick|tock|one tick will be a Final Dusk|fight for the next tock to be a First Dawn|

Where have the planetary bodies gone? Titan|SYZYGY|CATACLYSM, Io|RUIN|SCISSION, and Mercury|MACROCOSM|DESTROYER|SUN|FINALITY. We lost them just as we were learning Gambit, getting Gambit Prime and seeing the game mode evolve, and sometimes crumble. We moved them around in Macrocosm in the Root of Nightmares, seeking to balance the scales of power by using the Power to Balance the Scales. But they have not returned. Where are they?

[Have you seen the City lately? Sometimes the mountains disappear around the edge. It is an Abyss out there. Sometimes the Dreaming stir. I pray they do not awaken.

Have you ever seen the Scorn fight a Taken blight in the City? They are tenacious, as are we. They sharpen each other in their own way, as we all learn in our own. I just wish they wouldn't sharpen against us too.]

Dark Guardians have been in action since we mastered Stasis. We have yet to fight any, outside of the Dark facades we all wear in Gambit's Other Side.

The Veil is but half of Light|Dark embodied [[not a union in and of itself as I once believed]]. We cannot Live|Die without both. We would not want to livelivelivelivelive|diediediediedie ∞. We need both. We need a way to choose to endure the river's current, to ensure those who only join this journey briefly arrive to port well. We need a way to sever the loop if we react|choose|act. We need choice|truth|power.

[CONTRAST. As Death sharpens against Life, Life sharpens against Death. But it needn't be so equally. "Evil is real, even in a world of grey. It must be named and fought, because left unchecked, it takes everything."

The Emissary: Dredgen. Let's play a game. Your kind reveals so much in the choices you make.

Drifter: What the hell does that mean? You know what - okay, I'll bite.

The Emissary: Your feet find purchase in shifting sands.

Drifter: Okay, why is it getting hot? Do you feel that, Guardian? I can't… I can't see anything.

The Emissary: The night has enveloped you. This is a world full of Dark. No sparks.

Drifter: What's that smell?

The Emissary: The stench of the dead.

Drifter: Am I dead? I hope so, because what I'm smelling, I don't want to be touching.

The Emissary: You stand atop a dead world. A collapse.

Drifter: Get me outta here.

The Emissary: Very well. Your feet find purchase in shifting sands.

Drifter: Holy hell, what're you doing now? It's too bright!

The Emissary: The sun is blinding. This is a world is full of Light. No shadows. A creature runs into you in its blindness; it nearly bowls you over.

Drifter: [grunts] Hey, watch it! What was that? That's not funny.

The Emissary: It has lived here all its life. Too long. It is very old. But if you could see, you would see it appears young.

Drifter: Okay, when I said "get me outta here," I meant I'm done with your bull-

The Emissary: It grabs your hand.

Drifter: Don't touch me.

The Emissary: It begs. It begs you for help.

Drifter: You call this a game?

The Emissary: It begs you for death. On this world, ruled by full Light, it cannot die. It has companions that are as long-lived. It hates them, and they hate it. It will never end. It will never die.

Drifter: Get me outta here, Orin! It won't let go. I can smell it rotting!

The Emissary: And it smells you! You won't help it?

Drifter: I said I'm done!

The Emissary: Very well.

Drifter: What the hell is wrong with you, you lunatic?

The Emissary: You asked about Light and Dark. Come find us again any time, Dredgen. Guardian.

The Prophecy is yet to be fulfilled.]

What if the planetary bodies return some day? What if some of our number defect? If the line between Light Dark is Severed, which side will you land on?

Where are you going? No, wait, listen.

I was right, at first. In the ever-expanding Blighted-place, even Light must obey the sword-logic. Even you Guardians, you best and brightest of the dying dawn, you drew blood in honor of the Taken King. The Warpriest did his duty, and you did yours. Oryx was challenged, yes, but challenged in the way of the Hive, which is to say that challenge is worship — is challenge — is power. Sword-logic. You played your part well.

You were not supposed to touch the Light.

How did you find your way into the King's Cellars? How did you even recognize that benighted|draught for what it was? Do you not know that the Hive pursue Light precisely for the purpose of devouring it with slavering jaws and slick greedy gulping throats? How did you take (or rather, un-Take) the Blighted|Light that Oryx gathered to offer in sacrifice to Akka, and ignite it so that it burned and burned the Darkness?

It was barely Light anymore. But you took it. And when you took it, you did not keep it. You set it free.

You fools! You disastrous, bumbling squanderers! It's not right! Who now shall be First Navigator, Lord of Shapes, harrowed god, Taken King? Not you! You might have been Kings and Queens of the Deep! But you have toppled Oryx and you have not replaced him!

There must be a strongest one many one. It is the architecture of these spaces.

Why are you leaving?

If the invader comes, will you still be a Guardian? Or will you join the true Dredgens? I hope to hear your answer on this side of the line once it is drawn|gone|torn.

The question of how to live well in a universe of indifference, cruelty, and deprivation is the ONLY question. The Light does not offer us an afterlife or an otherworldly paradise. It does not give us throne worlds or pocket universes. The Light tells us that paradise is something we have to make here.

The Darkness cautions us against mercy to our enemies. Are we fools for trying to be good, when our very survival is at stake? Maybe. But the fact that our morals sometimes make it more difficult to survive is proof they are truly good! There is not much commendable about doing a right thing when it is also the tactically correct thing. When the good thing is also the hard thing: that is when the righteous are separated from the lost.

Sen-Aret, let me tell you something I have told no one else. I know that in the end, the Darkness can win. Do you understand what I mean? By its very nature, the Darkness is the judge of what will exist and what will pass away. In the end, there may be only Darkness because all that exists will remain only by its consent.

But the Light grants us freedom from existence alone as the measurement of our worth. Oh, evolution has made us afraid of nonexistence, certainly; and it is good to fear and to avoid nonexistence because without existence, we cannot experience joy. The idea that death is an escape from suffering is a trap. Death is not an escape from anything. It is a wall, a cessation, meaningless. I do not ask anyone to embrace death. There is no possibility in death; life is our only chance to live.

Darkness helps us avoid death. It helps us to go on existing. It is necessary. We must remember what hurt us so that we will not be hurt again.

But Darkness alone points to an eternal existence of mere survival—to a universe where the only judge of a good existence is the ability to go on existing. It is the grace of the Light that grants us the dignity to choose a finite life of compassion and common good over an eternity of competitive subsistence.

The Darkness, or the being that speaks for it, claims that the extermination of all those who choose the Light is inevitable; that the universe will be inherited by morally impoverished advantage-seekers like the Vex and Hive. Logically, I cannot see an escape—so long as I accept the Darkness's logic.

But this is exactly why we fight, Sen-Aret. Not to preserve our own lives, but to preserve the possibility that we represent. When all choices are measured by their fitness pay off—by what they do to benefit the continued existence of the chooser—the Darkness has won completely.

The most important thing we can do, the most formidable blow we can strike against our true enemy, is to offer irrational grace: to choose unreasonable hope and unreasoning compassion even if it goes against calculated advantage.

It is only by disregarding the logic of mere survival that we can create a possibility of existence outside that logic.

So. If they do not offer you a spot at the campfire. If they call you naïve. If they dislike your complaints about the casual violence of the casually violent. If they quote from the Unveiling texts, tell you how the Gardener lost because it always stopped to offer peace, and the Winnower always struck—then ask who they would rather sit by at the fire: Gardener or Winnower.

Then ask them if they would like to live in a universe where no one ever sits beside anyone else at the fire.

Never forget that even in the miserable logic of the prisoner's dilemma, it is the cooperators who create the best world. Two cooperators will score higher, together, than two defectors ever could. A world of cooperators would defeat a world of defectors if the defectors could only be kept away from the cooperators' bounty.

Never forget that what we achieve together, what we accomplish by leavening Darkness with Light and Light with Darkness, tempering grace with memory and memory with grace, is quite literally more than the Darkness alone can imagine. The Hive may have extinguished entire galaxies of allied life, but before the Hive came, those ecumenes accomplished titanic works. What do the Hive have to show for all their conquest? Miserable warrens and rotting moons. Even their libraries are just catalogs of death. Even their queens want a way out.

Never give up hope. If it is possible to live well, then it is worthwhile to try. If it is possible to exist by the rules of the Light, then the Darkness is forever defeated. It cannot dominate all things for all time.

Above all else, when you are in the deepest pits of despair, I offer you this: I believe that there is no reason the Traveler chose to make its stand here at Earth, instead of at Riis or any world before. I do not believe in any special quality it detected in humanity. Nor in any great tactical advantage the Traveler gained by vouchsafing its power to us. It did not release its Ghosts as a move in a scheme of incomprehensible complexity, or because we fit the criteria of an ancient plan. It did not compute the set of contingencies which could permit its own survival, a one-in-a-trillion pathway through a thicket of certain death.

I believe the Traveler simply could not bear to abandon one more infant possibility.

So it chose an act of unreasonable grace.

Clarity in action, Ikora Rey

[These dreams|memories|lives|sparks|seeds need not fade forever. They needen't be snuffed in full Darkness nor scorched by the full Light of inferno. We simply must give them a ring of spears in which to grow and keep them. Tend to them. Be their Guardian|Shield|Life—line|Seraph|Gardener.]

DROWN IN IT

OR RISE FROM IT

[chirpybirdy]

hboww2 rewatch prompt 4! im sorta happy with it lol i did exactly what i meant to do tho like alex has a "artists will love your body like youre a painting" vibe and buck has more experience because im on team all-austin-butler-characters-sleep-around

ANYWAYS no warnings, just gentle kissing. also included below the cut:

Alex had been thinking things with Major Cleven were going much better than could be expected when a hand lands on his knee. “Is this that kind of… since there’s no women around? That…?”

“You think you’re that pretty?” Buck teases.

“I think everyone thinks you're that pretty. Not that I’m calling you a woman, Major.” Alex winces. “Sorry, Major.”

Buck laughs it off, “Don’t worry about, Lieutenant. 'Sides, I don’t really mind about that.”

“I suppose you don’t have to.” Alex breathes out.

“What’s that supposed to mean, Alex?”

“It’s all good things,” Alex evades. He eyes Buck, wondering if the major will let him drop it, and it seems he will. “Hey, Buck,” Alex starts.

“Yes?” Buck hasn’t moved his hand from Alex’s knee since he placed it there, but the heat has spread faster than a prairie fire.

“You were suggesting, uh,” Alex laughs, “I don’t think I can say it.” Buck’s hand reaches over for Alex's. With a jolt, Alex drops the charcoal he was using and instinctively mourns the mark it leaves on his paper.

Buck helps him forget. He draws Alex’s hand up to his mouth and gently guides him to brush his fingers against his bottom lip. Charcoal dust shades in his five o'clock shadow.

“You don’t have to pretend I’m someone I’m not, Alex. Tell you the truth, I’d rather you kept looking at me the way you are now. No hiding your good-looking self, either.” His tone is serious and his face is warm.

Alex nods slowly and tries to remove the nerves from his smile. “Am I looking at you like I think you’re really pretty?”

Buck grins almost like he’s shy. Almost. There’s a dash of smugness that Alex would look forward to trying to capture with charcoal.

“Alright,” Alex bites his lip and plays the flirt, “I can do that.” He moves his hand to the back of Buck's neck, sketching a thin line across his cheek as he does so. Buck lets go of his hand real fast to hold Alex’s neck, and they pull each other close.

“I’m not trying to hide,” Alex tries to admit.

“If you do, I’ll hide with you.” His mouth brushes over Alex’s and his tongue slips daintily across his lip. The action buries the rush of excitement of getting out of the Stalag with excitement of a different kind. “Sounds nice.”

Buck keeps Alex tight to his side but gives Alex the power to deepen their kiss at his own pace. To touch and be touched, to be the one who toes the line and the one who decides where the line is. Alex kisses Buck like he’s learning how to draw a woman’s curves. Moving his hands to know how to define her waist. Mapping the shapes of muscles and give of skin with careful, physical study. “Where are we going to hide?” Alex asks, in the short moment where Buck’s tongue isn’t in his mouth.

“Gotta figure that out, don’t we?” Buck’s hand travels down to his hip and encourages Alex closer. Alex throws his leg over Buck’s thigh and this no longer counts as sitting side-by-side. Buck’s arm winds around Alex's shoulders and the other hand moves further down his hip to rub up and down his leg. Alex holds Buck's face in his hands and thinks, This is new. The man appearing in his sketchbook whenever Alex wasn’t wary enough, drawing Alex onto his lap.

“Your sweat smells good.” Alex pants. He feels Buck’s fingers trail up his side and he thinks about how this will make his art better.

“Mm, used to be complimented on my aftershave.” Buck sighs.

“They didn’t know any better. Not as smart as me.”

Damn, Buck seems to like his confidence, “That’s right,” he pants, “know that about you, Alex.” He nips at Alex’s lower lip and licks it better in the same moment. Tentatively, Alex finds Buck’s and matches his action with a bite and a lick of his own. Their kiss rises in intensity yet the passion can’t come close to the volume of discovery that rushes out between them.

"Saw a woman dance once," Buck whispers. "In a dark bar in the early morning, smoke from last night had finally sank into the walls and our clothes. You know how it hangs in the air? Anyway, she was dancing like she was born from the smoke and dark and didn’t care about her parents. No agony of birth, either, just the songs they sang that night. Running her hands all along up and down her body. Turning slowly like how you turn the page, all careful of what she’d done before, and trying something new. Sketching herself a body so sexy." His lips are wet from both their tongues as he presses them against Alex's firmly for a moment. "Think about her sometimes."

Alex observes that Buck takes things slow with no frustration in sight. Kissing him is like floating with someone nice in calm water on a warm day; touching him is like making ripples that go on for miles with not an answering wave in sight. "What were you doing a bar that early?" Alex asks, and immediately wonders why he asked—might as well have asked what he was doing in the Stalag. “Don’t guys usually move onto something else by now?”

Buck’s answer is breezy but not dismissive. “You understanding why I fell in love with the B17s?”

Alex chuckles. He shifts in Buck’s lap. “I get why you flew point. You like leading men on, Major Cleven?”

“Oh, you’re quick.” Buck grins. “Yeah, I like taking my time. What about it, Alex?” His grip tightens around Alex’s waist despite that. Those P51s are a tight fit with a small seat—and all skills are transferable. His experience lends itself well to grinding on Buck’s lap now. Something clicks right and when Alex lets out a gasp, Buck is right there with him. They both start breathing a little faster as Alex moves. The air thins between them. Buck spreads his legs a little and Alex shifts up to let him do it.

Looking down at Buck, Alex thinks men weren’t meant to get this high this fast—not even fighter pilots. He gets deep when his mouth dives down to meet Buck’s. His tongue plummets into Buck’s mouth and his hands are as rough in Buck’s hair as Buck’s hands are on his ass. His dick presses against Buck’s stomach and Alex wants to know, “You want me?” It was tough work to get his mouth free to ask, and Buck doesn’t take the chance himself. His refusal to make his agreement possible seems to be the only way he wants to give it.

Alex’s undershirt is removed, slowly, like it’s a silk negligee. His dirty shirt feels sensual as it slides off his skin and Alex moans with the sensation. The usual chill of the stale library air is now foreign to their corner. It smells of Alex and Buck only—and it’s warm. Buck breaks away from Alex’s mouth to kiss down his neck desperately to his chest. Alex hasn’t been here long enough to lose all his weight, and Buck is eagerly taking advantage before it’s gone. Gripping Alex’s bare skin like he’s a gift. When his hands loosen, just for a second, Alex wriggles back.

“No, let me hold you," Buck reaches for him, begging.

Alex smiles, amused and proud. "You’re shaking," he notes. Buck’s hands do tremble slightly as they hang in the empty space Alex created. “Here I thought you only like me for my maps.”

Buck lands his shaking hands on Alex’s thighs. “Don’t say that.” Alex had been about to say he was joking but Buck continued on. “You told me what it’s like out there. I like knowing.” He pauses. Gets a contemplative look on his face. “Guess I just like knowing.”

A bell sounds and Alex wrinkles his brows trying to recall what it’s for. Buck sighs, giving Alex’s thighs one last fondle before letting him know that was the dinner bell.

“Not sure I’m hungry.” Alex huffs ruefully as they stand to leave.

“Eat.” Buck orders. He trails his fingers across Alex’s waist, following the guidelines of his belly hair to his treasure trail. “Don’t miss meals.”

Alex feels his face heat up under the attention. “Yes. I won’t.”

Buck nods at this, and now it seems his Major Cleven persona is fully back on. “Don’t dally, Alex.” Alex is about to say yes-sir but Bucks stops him with a quick kiss. “I’ll be looking for you.”

[hypmic-translation]

Black Journey

RAMUDA Today again my shadow laughs For who do I exist? This life of mine is mere emptiness Lost and all alone - these unending feelings If I could only crunch down on them all, just like sweet candy But wishing upon stars is pointless… my fate remains the same

RAMUDA: Is this for my sake? DICE: Who’s sake is it all for? GENTARO: For the sake of someday? DICE: For the sake of tomorrow? RAMUDA: Could it be for my sake? (1) DICE: Who’s sake is it all for? GENTARO: For the sake of someday? FP: Yes, this journey is for all of our sakes!

DICE The thrill of risking my life is just like a bug in my brain Calm beneath the frenzy, my life’s day trading (2) Simply mediating, daydreamer Somehow I noticed I’m carrying more dice Us three sitting side-by-side, surviving The last train is about to leave So don’t you dare let go of the ticket you’re holding, ey

GENTARO Aah, tonight shall we ponder the end approaching us Even if I turned to dust, my written verses would remain (3) Drawing coordinates on this ever-changing backdrop Our journey’s been long, filled with pain and suffering So that the three of us can smile together… (I’ll wait for my chance)

CHORUS Into our black, black journey! It’ll be our last, right? A journey to take control over our own lives DICE: Jack the line! You don’t gotta justify “I wanna” is all you need while on the road GENTARO: Our own private scene in the midst of a storm Fondly looking back on every memory

Our experiences are for no one else’s sake, belong to our own mind, all night DICE: Accumulated rhymes, repetitive fights They’re all we have to keep on going FP: Delving into the unknown and beyond- beyond- beyond- beyond

RAMUDA Why am I all alone? I’m fed up with all of these boring questions The world should be interesting, right? You’re not busy, are you, cutie-pie? Easy conversation, let’s vanish for a while and then bloom Don’t wanna see your face tomorrow, though So I’ll throw out a goodbye!

DICE You’re acting unusual? You’ll never win with that kinda outlook You already knew, this trip was never gonna be easy (GENTARO: It won’t be easy) You ain’t yourself? Like I care! You’re all that I’ve ever known We gonna be dirty So let’s just keep moving forwards, this way, no distractions

GENTARO The rippling water, the wandering stars, the waning moon If there are nights when you find yourself jealous of them all Simply get to your feet and dance You say you’re bound by shackles, invisible to any eye But regardless of how you feel, the sun will always rise Making the water shine, ever so faintly

CHORUS Into our black, black journey! It’ll be our start, right? We’ve never been this excited before DICE: Jack the line! You don’t gotta justify “I wanna” is all you need while on the road GENTARO: Our own private scene in the midst of a storm Fondly looking back on every memory

If we look deep inside ourselves, surely there we’ll find all of our answers DICE: Accumulated rhymes, repetitive fights They’re all we have to keep on going FP: Delving into the unknown and beyond- beyond- beyond- beyond

RAMUDA These feelings I didn’t know I had Won’t stop filling up the hole in my chest The two of you, laughing by my side Have turned me into somebody new And now I want to see exactly where this journey will lead…!

CHORUS Into our black, black journey! It’ll be our last, right? A journey to take control over our own lives DICE: Jack the line! You don’t gotta justify “I wanna” is all you need while on the road GENTARO: Our own private scene in the midst of a storm Fondly looking back on every memory

Our experiences are for no one else’s sake, belong to our own mind, all night DICE: Accumulated rhymes, repetitive fights They’re all we have to keep on going FP: Delving into the unknown and beyond- beyond- beyond- beyond

NOTES:

Although what Ramuda says here is the same as the first time he says it, he uses “boku” instead of “ore”, which is the pronoun he uses when he’s using his fake voice. This makes him come across as sweeter/less harsh, which is the intention, so I changed the line a little.

Dice’s verse is kind of a nightmare but my interpretation of this is that he’s discussing his daily life? “Day trading” is basically short-term stock buying, which some people seem to consider a form of gambling.

The lyrics say “華詩”, which essentially means “poetry”, but what Gentaro says is “かし” which means “lyrics”. I went with “verses” for a middle ground of sorts.