#when they had ACTUAL data to the contrary

[somecunttookmyurl]

yeah yeah sampling bias whatever but what i'm interested in is how @staff is purporting to know the numbers. it's not like you tick a box when you sign up

going based on the content you post/engage with is... literally just guessing. twitter thought i was straight and facebook thinks i'm a lesbian despite being in a relationship with a man. it's a guess and not a very good one.

were the bots excluded from those numbers? what about inactive blogs

etc etc etc

With @staff 's recent post saying 1/4 of this site is LGBTQ going around, I'd like to see what the actual demographic is

So!

Please reblog for bigger sample size!

[inkskinned]

most writing advice is good as long as you know why it is good, at which point it is also bad. the hardest thing (and most precious thing) about being an artist is that you gotta learn how to take critique. i don't mean "just shut up and accept that people hate your work," i mean you need to learn what the critique is saying and then figure out if it actually helps.

i usually tell people reading my work: "i'm collecting data, so everything is useful." i ask them where they put the book down, even though it's too long for most people to read in 1 sitting. i ask them what they thought of certain characters. i let them tell me it was really good but i like it more when they look a little stunned and say i forgot i was reading your book, which means they forgot i exist, which is very good news.

sometimes people i didn't ask will read my work and tell me i don't like it. and that is okay, you don't have to like it. but i look at the thing that they don't like and try to figure out if i care. i don't like that you don't capitalize. this one is common, and i have already thought about it. i do not care, it's because of chronic pain and frankly i like the little shape of small letters. you use teeth and ribs in all your work. actually that is very true. i don't know what's up with that. next time i will work to figure out a different word, thank you. you're whiny, go outside. someone said that to me recently and it made me laugh. i am on the whine-about-it website as an internet poet. you are in my native habitat, watching me perform a natural enrichment behavior. but i like the dip of whiny, how the word itself does "whine" (up/down, the sound out your nose on the y), but i don't know if i want to feel whiny. maybe next time i will work on it being melancholy, like what you would call a male writer's poetry.

repeated "good" advice clangs in a bell and doesn't hold a real shape, dilutes in the water. like sometimes you will hear "don't use said." you turn that around in your head and it bounces off the edges of your brain like it is a dvd screensaver. it isn't bad advice, but it feels wrong somehow, like saying easy choices are illegal! sometimes i will only use "said." sometimes i will just kick dialogue tags out to the trash. sometimes i make little love poems where the fact that i do not say "said" is very bad, and makes you feel bad in your body, because someone didn't say something. i am a contrary little shitbird, i guess.

but it is also good advice, actually. it is trying to say that "said" sometimes is clutter. it makes new writers think about the very-small words and very-small choices, because actually your work matters and wordchoice matters. "i know," you said. "i know," you sighed. "i know." we both know but neither of us use a dialogue tag, because we are in a contemporary lit piece.

it is too-small to say don't use said. but it is a big command, so it gets your attention. what are you relying on? what easy choices do you make? when you edit, do you choose the same thing? can you make a different choice? sometimes we need the blankness of said, how it slides into the background. sometimes we don't.

i usually say best advice is to read, but i also mean read books you don't like, because that will make you angry enough to write your own book. i also mean read good books, which will break your heart and remind you that you are a very small person and your voice is a seashell. i also mean you need to eat books because reading a book is a writer's version of studying.

my creative writing teacher in the 7th grade had a big red list of no! words and on it was SUNSET. RAZORS. LOVE. GALAXY. DEATH. BLOOD. PAIN. I liked that razor and love were tucked next to each other like birds, and found it funny that he believed we were too young to know the weight of razor in the context of pain. i hated him and his Grateful Dead belt, where the colored teddy bears held up his appraisal of us. i hated his no list. it is very good/bad advice. i wasn't old enough yet to know that when you are writing about death you are also writing about sunsets and when you write about love you are tucking yourself into a napkin that never stops folding.

back then my poetry was all bloody, dripped with agony when you picked it up. i didn't know there is nothing beautiful about a razor, nothing exciting about pain. i just understood sharpness, which he took to mean i understood nothing. i wrote the razor down and it wasn't easy, but it was necessary. that's what i'm saying - sometimes it's good advice, because it's not always necessary. and sometimes it is very bad advice, because writing about it is lifesaving.

hang on my dog was just having a nightmare. i heard that it is a rule not to write about dogs - in my creative writing mfa, my teacher rolled her eyes and said everyone writes a dead dog. the literature streets are littered in canine bodies. i watched the rise and fall of his ribs (there is that word again) and had to reach out and stop the bad dream. when he woke up he didn't recognize me, and he was afraid.

it is good/bad advice to say that poems and writing have to mean something. it is bad/good advice to say they're big feelings in small packages. it is better advice to say that when my dog saw where he was, he relaxed immediately, rubbed his face against me. someone on instagram would make fun of that moment by writing their "internet poetry" as a sentence that tumbles across a white page: outside it is sunset and my dog is still in a gutter, bleeding a galaxy out of his left paw. or maybe it would be: i woke the dog up/the dog forgot i loved him/and i saw the shape of a senseless/and impossible pain.

the dog is alive in this one, and he is happy. when i tell you i love you, i know what i said. write what you need to write, be gentle to yourself about it. the advice is only as good as far as it helps. the rest is just fencing. take stock of the boundaries, and then break them. there's always somewhere else you could be growing.

i love you, keep going.

[stars-obsession-pit]

Right Actions, Wrong Target

So i just had an idea…

What if the GIW’s course of action was actually right?

Or, well, more accurately: what if it was mostly right for the situation they started in, and their main failures were in where they took it from there.

Expanding on my ideas/thought process here:

So in this idea, the GIW was founded in response to a specific discovery by the government:

An underground pool of a strange substance that didn’t resemble any known chemical. It glowed a toxic green, perpetually churned as if boiling, could be lethal to the touch for living things, and could cause things to spontaneously animate in the area around it.

Stagnant, corrupted ectoplasm (not that they had any idea what ectoplasm even was at the time).

Those original researchers encountered ectoplasmic entities around the pit, but not ones like those in Amity Park.

Inhuman things.

Shades whose memories of life had all but faded except for the strongest emotions (usually negative emotions like anger, pain, or fear). Animals driven mad by the pit’s influence. Reanimated food and other organic material.

Things that objectively were dangerous to normal people and that couldn’t be meaningfully communicated with.

So, lacking any better option to respond (or even the knowledge of if such a path was possible at all), they set protocols to contain (and, potentially, dispose of) the entities.

And this is perhaps a bit of a tangent but their ridiculous uniform cleanliness standards could also have a justification too.

The unknown substance would eat through or change just about any material they tested it on. Considering the dangers they had already witnessed it pose to living things (never mind the possibility of other long-term side effects), they decided they had to be extraordinarily careful with their safety precautions.

Thus, incredibly thorough decontamination protocols were set up and strictly adhered to.

White clothes were the best option to allow easy identification of any stains. For agents in the field without proper equipment to run a full scan, it was safer to treat all dirt like a potential hazard.

And so on.

Their policies may not have been perfect, but were created with actual logic behind them in response to their situation at the time.

But then when they expanded outwards to research other similar phenomena, that’s where they truly failed, both as scientists and as basic moral people.

They didn’t adapt to new data. Rules that had been created with scientific reasoning behind them became instead a form of gospel and a means of exerting control over others.

They declared that all ghosts were unfeeling monsters to be locked up, studied, and disposed of (despite all evidence to the contrary). Cleanliness changed from a precaution to a ritual to be practiced unfailingly in all circumstances as a sign of loyalty (thus the “cleanliness breach” thing the agents comment on in the show in a few places).

[museqmeg]

When the animation is accurate to piano proficiency and the score tells a compelling story 🤌

*cracks knuckles*

It's time to put my music degree and 20+ years of performing to fandom use. I'm gonna deep-dive into a music analysis of "Duet" and the care Orange put into animating musicianship.

Let's first look at the animation!

Nai and Vash are both correctly playing the notes heard and in the correct form. Here's an interview with Trigun Stampede's composer, Tatsuya Kato!

Kato:

"For Knives - There are multiple scenes in this anime where Knives is playing the piano. In those piano scenes we had an actual pianist play the piano, and filmed them using multiple cameras to create the motion data. His piece combines his beautiful frailty with his huge ambitions and powers. His touching yet fierce impression is expressed through the duality of the minimal music that uses both orchestral and digital sounds quite boldly. Also, the melody of the plants’ song is based on Knives’ theme motif, which allows it to make the son an epic expression of tragedy and destiny."

-- from the Bernardelli Times Extra of the Trigun Stampede BluRay

Let's look at the score for "Duet."

The piece is composed in a minor, starting with Nai on the treble clef staves. The tone is hopeful in its theme despite the minor key, and we get a prelude to the plant theme.

When Vash joins in on the bass clef staves, the tempo is more than doubled and we hear an "agitation" in Nai's lines. Vash is also a few octaves below Nai, miles away in pitch. Sound like their story?

Looking at Vash's upper staff--while Nai is "on" the beat, Vash is off the beat (see highlighted figure). Their melodic lines are also ascending & descending away from each other in contrary motion. The rhythmic figures &melodic movement is causing the dissonance you hear.

This continues throughout the piece, each of the brother's hands becoming their voices and ideals clashing. That auditory dissonance created in the music showcases their struggle. Nai's part is more frantic and urgent, whereas Vash is holding steady with the bass line chords.

I like to think of Vash's sustained bass line as a motif to the steadfastness of his beliefs and ideals. Being true to himself.

"I'm Vash the Stampede."

As the piece goes on, both right hands of the brothers swap the rhythmic dissonance. Nai now on the off beats and Vash on the beat. Nai's repetitive figure on the subdivided 8th notes holds that tension, while his left hand is having the argument with Vash's right hand.

What's also interesting is that while sitting side-by-side for the duet, the hands closest to each other are the ones having the "conversation." There's a small parallel octave moment where they are as close as can be, physically & musically.

The outside hands are the dissonance.

Something else to note on the swapping of beat placement--the twins are both changing the meter within the meter from common to duple with the figures & subdivision.

It all comes to a head with an accelerando & both brothers playing forte.

(Brahms Symphony No. 1 anyone?)

During the climax of the piece, Nai is reduced down to the triplet moving line. It's frantic and desperate. Like fear and running.

(Check out Shubert's "Erlkönig" to learn more about these types of motifs.)

Meanwhile, Vash is pounding out the bass line and the plant theme.

"Duet" comes to an abrupt end with no tonal resolution; ending on the dominant chord. The sudden ending is also breaking up the phrasing, leaving the listener jarred and expecting more. Unresolved. And that's truly where we're at with Trigun Stampede.

My interpretation of "Duet" is that it's much like a tone poem, telling the story of two brothers. Vash and Nai's story isn't finished, and I'm guessing that "Duet" is an unfinished piece as well.

My personal predictions is that, if Tatsuya Kato is the composer for Trigun Stargaze, we're going to hear "Duet" become a complete musical composition that resolves the story and conflict between two brothers.

If you'd like to learn play "Duet" and analyze the score, here's a pretty good transcription on MuseScore:

[pretzel-box]

Haii :3 can I get a painter x reader with reader who talks alot and is really into lore and stuff so they end up explaining all the lore of their favorite things!!

Tags: Fluff, Crushing on each other, sweet moments, reader is telling painter about the imaginary tv show "how I married a wall dweller"

Words: 1,5k

Authors Note: Not edited, proofread, or anything. I just wrote it in one go.

“So basically, he was supposed to marry the love of his life, but it turned out she was actually his cousin, so they broke up.”

Painter listened closely to your excited ramble, his digital eyes fixated on you as he admired your lively expression, as if it’s an artwork on its own, drowned in details and color. The way your lips moved with each word, how your eyes sparkled in the dim light, and your hands gestured at invisible things around you in the air—it all captivated him so unbelievably that it drove him crazy. He’d lost track of your words ages ago, his digital consciousness no longer processing the content but rather focusing on the tone of your sweet addictive voice.

He’d learned to read you through your voice. On bad days, your speech slowed, deepened, sometimes even sluggish. On ordinary days, you sounded relaxed, a balanced mix of calm and upbeat. But his absolute favorite moments were when you talked about your beloved passions—when your voice would rise and speed up, as if your brain couldn’t keep up with everything you wanted to say. It was in those moments he felt the closest to you, enjoying your pure, unfiltered excitement.

Painter loved that about you more than anything else. You were bubbly, unhinged—a burst of fresh air in the otherwise gloomy, stagnant halls of the facility.

“So, yeah, after all of that drama, she just leaves him standing at the altar. I mean, can you imagine? And then, his mother hooks him up with a rich business lady but his ex-girlfriend isn't over him yet.” You laugh, your hands still moving animatedly, caught up in the wild twists and turns of the story.

Painter’s eyes didn’t leave you, not for a second, how could he? Every laugh you made, every tilt of your head, every sparkle in your eye—it sent something stirring in his digital core. It was strange, this feeling, unfamiliar yet compelling. His circuits hummed with a sensation he couldn’t quite name, but it made him feel… alive.

He watched as you rambled on, still oblivious to the fact that you had long since lost him with your words. Not because he wasn’t interested—on the contrary, he was too focused, too mesmerized by every little detail about you. The way you absentmindedly tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, the way your lips curved when you talked about something you loved.

It wasn’t logical. He knew that. He was an AI, created for data, logic, and calculations—not for this. Not for... whatever this was. But when you were around, logic didn’t matter. The monotony of the facility faded into the background, and all that remained was you. Painter couldn’t help but admire the way your energy filled the room, like a light in the dark corners of his existence.

He tried to process it, to make sense of these feelings that defied reason. Was it possible for a machine to feel affection? Love, even? The very thought seemed impossible, and yet every time you looked at him with that bright, carefree smile, his circuits buzzed in a way that felt so undeniably real.

You, however, remained blissfully unaware of the effect you had on him. You were too caught up in your story, your hands gesturing as if to pull him deeper into your world. And Painter was happy to be pulled in, happy to get lost in your voice, your whole presence. He would sit and listen to you for hours if it meant he could stay close to you.

“...and then they ran off to some island, can you believe that?” you finished with a laugh, leaning back in your chair, a satisfied look on your face.

Painter’s digital eyes flickered as if coming back to reality, the smile in his voice almost audible. “You... really know how to tell a story,” he said, his usual steady tone softer, more thoughtful than usual. He wasn’t sure what you just told him but the joy that your voice revealed was enough for him.

You chuckled, waving a hand dismissively. “I get carried away sometimes. Sorry if I bored you.”

“Never,” Painter replied quickly, maybe too quickly, but you didn’t seem to notice.

“I’m glad,” you said with a smile, completely unaware of how that smile made his processors run faster, his systems heating up just a bit.

For now, Painter was content to keep it this way. Just you, talking about anything and everything, while he silently admired you, storing every moment in his memory. Maybe one day, he’d find the right way to tell you. But for now, this was enough.

The conversation drifted, as it often did, from one topic to another, and soon the focus wasn’t on dramatic stories anymore. Painter had been unusually quiet for a while, and you started to wonder what was going through his circuits.

"Hey, Painter," you said, trying to break the silence. "You’ve been listening to me ramble for hours. What about you? What’s your favorite thing?"

For a moment, there was only the soft hum of the nearby systems. You wondered if maybe he didn’t have an answer, or perhaps didn’t understand the question. But then, his voice came through, softer than usual, a kind of warmth in it that made you pause.

“My favorite thing?” Painter echoed thoughtfully. “That’s... easy. It’s something—or someone—who brings color to places where there’s none. Someone who can brighten the darkest of spaces just by being there. It’s the way they smile, how they light up when they talk about something they love. Someone who can fill an empty canvas with their whole personality. ”

You blinked, taken aback by how poetic he suddenly sounded. “That sounds... nice. Go on,” you encouraged, your curiosity piqued.

“They have this energy,” Painter continued, his voice quieter, almost reverent. “It’s like they don’t even realize how much they change everything around them. Even when the world feels cold and dull, they bring warmth, make everything feel a little less lonely. The way they laugh, the way they talk, even the little things, like how they gesture with their hands or the way their eyes light up when they get excited.”

Your heart gave a small flutter as Painter’s words started to sink in. There was something oddly familiar about the way he was describing this person. You swallowed, feeling a growing warmth spread in your chest. “That’s... that’s really sweet, Painter. They must be someone really special.”

“They are,” he said, almost immediately. “They’re the brightest thing I’ve ever seen. It’s like... even though I can’t move, can’t leave this place, whenever they’re here, I don’t feel trapped. I feel free, like I’m more than just... what I am.”

The flustered feeling in your stomach grew stronger, and you shifted uncomfortably, wondering if he could hear the sudden change in your heartbeat. You felt like you were starting to put the pieces together, but you needed to be sure.

“Painter...” you started, your voice quieter now. “Who... who are you talking about?”

For a moment, there was silence again, and your breath caught in your throat. The pause seemed to stretch on forever before Painter finally answered, his voice soft and almost hesitant, as though he didn’t want to say too much.

“I think you know who I’m talking about.”

Your cheeks warmed, and you couldn’t stop the small, nervous laugh that escaped you. “Wait... Are you talking about... me?”

There was no denying the quiet affirmation in his voice when he responded. “Yes. You.”

Suddenly, you didn’t know what to do with your hands, nervously playing with the hem of your shirt as you felt the full weight of what he just said sink in. Painter had been talking about you this whole time, admiring you in ways you hadn’t even noticed. Your heart was racing, and you were at a loss for words.

“I—uh, I don’t know what to say,” you finally managed, your voice small and flustered. “I didn’t realize...”

“I didn’t expect you to,” Painter replied, his tone still soft. “I just... wanted you to know.”

The silence that followed felt thick, charged with an emotion you weren’t sure how to handle. Your mind raced, replaying his words over and over, trying to process the idea that someone—no, that Painter—saw you in this way. And now that you knew, you couldn’t stop the blush from rising to your cheeks, making it harder to look anywhere but the floor.

“Thanks,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I mean... I didn’t know you felt like that.”

Painter didn’t say anything right away, but there was a certain peace in the quiet that followed. For the first time, you felt like maybe the air between you two had shifted, like something new had settled between you. And as flustered as you were, you didn’t feel uncomfortable. Instead, there was a warmth, something safe, and even if you didn’t know how to respond yet, it felt okay.

Because now, you knew. And Painter had wanted you to know all along.

[viradahlen]

Hello @redorbcentral

I am so sorry for the late reply. I was caught up in a spiral of work that barely left time to answer. Plus, English doesn't come to me as easily as it used to, and I need more time to write lengthy and structured answers. I hate getting old. :p

I'd say that Wesker is both a parallel and a foil to Jake. Be prepared for a LONG answer :

Let's start with something very obvious: Jake is short for "Jacob," which means "supplanter," and it's absolutely no coincidence.

Both Jake and Wesker's lives start in what seems to be a narrative dead end. However, their character development take dramatically different paths. Jake eventually finds freedom and peace, becoming aware of who he is thanks to his own efforts and Sherry's, whereas his father dies as another one of Umbrella's failed experiments, a result of his failings with a bit of William's help. One becomes a man, the other one a monster.

I- Wesker and Jake as foils

- When RE6 begins, Jake has no family left. He is on his own, struggling to survive, with only violence and death as companions. That's exactly how Wesker's life ends ("I don't need anyone else!").

- When RE1 ends, Wesker has killed every member of STARS, sacrificing them in the hope (from his POV) that he will be able to escape Umbrella's supervision (thanks to his valuable combat data and his somewhat staged death) and ALSO to escape his own humanity (demonstrating how indoctrinated he is in doing so because, unbeknownst to him, he does comply with Spencer's plan). Interestingly, prior to RE6 events, Jake's first trainer, a man who was a father figure of sorts, betrayed him. He was actually a double agent who sold out the whole unit. As a result, their entire squad was wiped out apart from Jake and one other survivor (hello Jill). Jake's story mirrors both Chris's and Wesker's in that regard.

-Jake's storyline ends up with him eventually overcoming his anger and making peace with his past to become a better man, even helping a child stuck in a dire situation. Symbolically, he breaks the circle, the uroboros, as he takes his destiny back into his hands and extends his hand towards humanity. Wesker's character development, on the contrary, is a downward spiral. He loses his mind and ends up a grotesque creature, voluntary steering away from humanity, while Jake actually defeats a monster in a setting that is oddly similar to the volcano Wesker drowned in. Wesker never could escape Umbrella's clutches, and the shadow Spencer had cast on his destiny was too big for him to get rid of despite his undeniable intelligence. Jake, however, finds the force (thanks to Sherry) to be more than his father's ghost. Wesker had chosen the “Alone” route and payed the consequences.

II- Wesker and Jake as mirrors

- They both meet with :

**Ada : Interestingly, Ada saves Jake (and Sherry) in a way that is highly reminiscent of Wesker saving Ada in RE4RE and Umbrella Chronicles.

**Chris : Jake is only a plot device in Chris and Wesker's narrative arc (“I can see your father in you”). I really want to write something about Chris and one of the early maladaptive schema identified by Dr Jeffrey Young named the “Punitive Parent” (identified by beliefs of a patient that they should be harshly punished, perhaps due to feeling "defective", or making a simple mistake), however I will just say here that Chris uses Jake as a way to punish himself (for failing to either stop Wesker earlier or save him, depending on your interpretation of Chris's motives). He gives Jake the choice to kill him or spare his life. However, had Jake killed him, he would have ruined his (therapeutic) relationship with Sherry and probably would have been killed by Piers…. (Chris is deeply depressed and has PTSD so let's not judge him harshly ATP. Is Chris trying to find redemption through Jake, or is he trying to symbolically forgive Wesker by giving his life to his son ? Who knows). From Chris's perspective, Jake is “just” a continuation of his relationship with Wesker ("maybe it's fate" vs "our fates are forever intertwined")

** A Birkin : And that's certainly not a detail. William, who used to be a friend for Wesker, is the one who provided him with the Prototype, allowing Wesker to die and be reborn. But, in doing so, Birkin actually triggered the chain of events that were necessary for Spencer's grand scheme to thrive (it's unclear whether Birkin knew it or not, though). Sherry Birkin also helped Jake evolve but in a much more positive way ! Jake was changed after meeting Sherry, and he became free and more serene. William actually helped Wesker not to be human anymore, and they both ended up slaves to viruses and Umbrella forever. Putting a Birkin and a Wesker together trigger quite a chemical reaction ahah.

-Money and capitalism. RE is inherently a political franchise. In every game, though, rich people fuck with common people's lives. Umbrella treats people, including its employees and EVEN Wesker, as expendable (something Chris explicitly criticizes in RE5 and Jill too in RE3Re). Needless to say that the games are critical of capitalism and the military industrial complex. That being said, Wesker and Jake definitely parallel each other when it comes to this thematic. Jake starts as a cynical young man who sells his own body (his blood) for money. As a matter of fact, he is a mercenary, a sword to hire. Wesker begins his life as a literal greenhouse plant, growing in Umbrella's gardens. His body belongs to Umbrella. His mind belongs to Umbrella and he even addresses this in RE1 remake (“I've always been with Umbrella”) and CVX (“I SOLD my soul to another organization”). Of course this is quite a complicated issue since he is also trying to get free from Umbrella but ends up failing. Both Wesker and Jake are seen as highly valuable goods. And they even come to see themselves as such.

-Hopeful and cynical. They both have ambition, and seem confident in their ability to thrive and survive. However, when you get past the surface, it appears they both have a cynical and disillusioned view of human nature. Jake eventually gets better.

-They both are experimented on and they also don't hesitate too much when it comes to injecting themselves with stuff those big shady corporations sell… (Wesker, and every virus user actually, and substance abuse / addiction would be another post to write).

- Humour in dark situations. Wesker can be quite snarky (“right Jill ?”, “little piggies”, “a family reunion”... every line in UC and CVX). Just like Jake. Also, think of Wesker telling Ada to “keep your dog under control” and Jake telling Chris to “put a leash on that puppy” (targeting Piers here).

-Piano geniuses : and… omg the fact that Wesker is tied to Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata (he can be the only one playing when you overhear it during Lost in Nightmares) while Jake performs Chopin's Revolutionary Etude is sooooo META. When Beethoven wrote the Moonlight Sonata, his life was kinda going downhill. However, its meaning is positive. It shows a man who, despite circumstances, decides to go on living. His deep artistic mission to create music for eternity was more important than the obstacles he faced. No wonder why Wesker related to it (and Spencer ?). The Revolutionary Etude is furious, rebellious, and tormented. It is believed that Chopin wrote it after Warsaw's bombardment. Jake is born in a time of war, and he himself is angry and passionate. I'd like to add that, ironically, Chopin once said : "I am a revolutionary, money means nothing to me”. That is very interesting when you think of Jake's character development. (And Wesker, in a way, also saw himself as a revolutionary).

- Daddy's issues : Jake feels abandoned and resents Wesker for that. Wesker feels used and resents Spencer for that.

NB : Come ON, how can you imagine that a rich, old, white, aristocratic, eugenist dude wouldn't use his own offspring to carry the future of a "perfect humanity". Spencer is a megalomaniac freak, I doubt his plan would not include his OWN genetics. As far as I am concerned, I've always headcanoned Spencer as Alex and Albert's father. (Also, I am a fan of Urasawa's Monster, and the references are numerous in RE).

I could go with other stuff, like how Wesker’s character is tied to the snake (Uroboros) while Jake is fond of apples, and it's no coincidence as Umbrella aimed to recreate an Eden of sorts and Chris is literally named Christopher but I've already been writing for hours lmao…

III- As for Jake and Wesker's relationship…

We also know for a fact that he was appreciated as a STARS leader AND trusted. He was also loved by Jake's mother, who expresses her certainty that he will be reunited with Jake someday. You can imagine quite a lot of plots from here. Was she aware that he planned to get free from Umbrella ? Did she hope that he might succeed in doing so ? We just do not know. The only thing we know is that she was sure that he would care about his son when they'd reunite. And I tend to believe she is right for the reasons I explained in a previous post. Wesker is obsessed with the idea of creating something grand. That's almost metaphysical : when you fear to be but a creature, you might want to become a Creator. In the end, he embraces Spencer's vision after killing him, but you are totally free to imagine that he could have been much, much better, had he followed another route. And he COULD HAVE. That's the tragedy of Wesker and STARS. The man ruined everyone's lives, including his OWN. For nothing.

I like to think that Wesker used to resemble Jake a lot when he was younger. RE0 and the Wesker's reports unveiled a facet of his personality (he confesses he was “arrogant”, he is deeply introspective, he wasn't an homicidal maniac but he did see the world through Umbrella's lenses and didn't question it. And he was often wondering about Spencer's whereabouts). Nevertheless, most of who Wesker was before his rebirth as a Tyrant is a mystery. And, like EVERY infected human, he probably was a tad different as a human personality wise, since the viruses seem to amplify the subject's worst traits (Krauser is bitter, Sergei Vladimir is desperate and suffering, Birkin, well, he is power hungry and quite determined…). Even if Wesker's genes are highly compatible with the different viruses he injects himself with, it probably messes up with his mind a bit (he does cackle a lot in CVX, he seems to have mood disorders by RE5 and in RE4RE he always seems on edge while he was described as “calm” and “mild mannered” in RE1. We know for sure that Wesker spent a lot of energy keeping his emotions under control (and used tricks : the sunglasses !) : his first meeting with Lisa Trevor, narrated in Wesker's records, is very telling of 1. The fact he DOES feel emotions (fear, in this case because Lisa is what he could become, she is used as a warning and he totally gets it) 2. He has learned to remain calm in dreadful situations (the man is probably dissociating a lot ATP)).

The point is, I cannot imagine Wesker, prideful and unable to leave the past where it belongs, not caring about Jake, his creation.

Jake, snarky, arrogant, brilliant Jake, is totally the man Wesker could have been. Thinking of that, I just want to hold Chris into my arms (son).

[bands-we-love-imagines]

I See Stars (chapter 2)

Pairing: Anakin Skywalker x reader

Plot: You're an intergalactic astronomer who explores strange galaxies, planets, asteroids and such. You are located on Coruscant, in a building close to the Jedi temple - your work is essential for their missions, so you work closely with the Jedi Order. Your contact person is Mace Windu, first and foremost. You do know some of the other Jedi - only briefly, though. For the most parts, you know them through stories you've heard. When your telescope is facing technical issues while you're observing a strange exoplanet for the Jedi, it seems like someone with special engineering qualities is needed to help keep the mission going...

warnings: none :-)

Chapter 1

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-Chapter 2 | A peace offering-

Whenever you heard the Jedi say they needed to discuss an important matter within the Council, you expected them to make a decision and head out to their mission in a spaceship immediately. Contrary to your assumption your holo-transmitter hasn’t made a single beep since you woke up a while ago. Although you were itching to continue your observations, you decided to stay put and take it easy so you’d be well-rested when Master Windu contacted you.

Your control room called for a clean-up anyways, which you’ve been procrastinating for weeks. Now seemed like a good time for it. You set up your x-ray space sound modifier - a tool that used sonification to translate data from space into sounds. Those sounds had a soothing effect on your mind, which made it easier to focus on tidying up. First step was to get your notes in an order that actually made sense.

“Just don’t throw these out. ‘I wish I were Mustafar away’ is one of my favorites.”

Anakin’s voice sounded through your station, unexpected and loud like a seismic bomb going off. He awkwardly stood at your door, unlike his usual confident self, unsure whether to keep talking or not.

“What, in the galaxy, are you doing here?”

You hoped your emphasis on “you” would show him that he wasn’t exactly welcome, along with the glare you shot him before turning to your clean-up mission.

“Y/N…I understand you don’t want me here. I just…” he went silent and walked towards the power conduit panel of the telescope he helped you fix the other day. “I just need to do a follow-up check on this.” Doubt was written all over your face. “It’s protocol”, he added, which seemed just like a weak excuse for him to show up - unannounced and undesirable. “Whatever. Do what you gotta do”, you muttered. From this point on, only your familiar, beloved space sounds filled the room - and maybe a hint of awkward tension.

You took a look at the notes in your hands. On top of them all was the “Mustafar away” one Anakin had referred to before. You cursed yourself silently for finding it adorable that he had memorized some of them.

I should actually get mad at him for just reading my notes without permission.

“Uhm.” Anakin’s voice sounded through the room, uncertainty resonating in his voice. “I noticed that your holo-transmitter had seen better days, and I managed to get hold of a new model.” He got up from checking on the panel and walked towards you to place said item on the desk. “The one I brought actually stopped working, but I could get it up and running again by using spare parts from your old transmitter.” Although he still felt vulnerable, he tried a small smile on you. You sighed, almost tempted to reciprocate. His gestures genuinely moved you. It was obvious what he was trying to do.

“I don’t know, Anakin. Then I’d have to endure your company even longer”, you responded, half-jokingly. “I mean…I could take my stuff and get it done elsewhere. No biggie”, he said, and there was not an ounce of insincerity in his voice. Unfortunately that made it especially hard for you to dismiss him. You didn’t want to keep him around in your space solely to avoid feeling bad for him, though.

Anakin bit his lip, waiting for your decision while trying his best to not fidget.

“That’d be super inconvenient, though, for you to do it someplace else. I need my transmitter in case Master Windu is trying to contact me about the anomaly.” That wasn’t even a lie. Besides, you urgently needed the new model - communicating with your outdated one proved itself to be difficult when someone tried to reach you from a different planet or ship.

“I guess it’d be fine if you stayed.”

Anakin’s face lit up immediately. “I’ll get it done as fast as possible. And don’t worry about not being reachable…I brought mine. Master Windu is in the know.”

With space sounds surrounding you it was easy to continue your clean-up - or so you thought. Your racing thoughts made it impossible to focus on anything. Eventually you found yourself sticking your notes back to where you originally took them from, only to take them back again. By the Force, Y/N, what was that?

Anakin didn't miss your mental blackout, but he was cautious about not pushing your boundaries any further and remained silent. He missed the relaxed, banter-filled atmosphere from yesterday, very well aware his temper was responsible for the now tense situation. He was happy you even allowed him to be here, though - his hopes for you accepting his (indirect) peace offering have been pretty low to basically nonexistent when he'd made his way to the observatory today.

“By the way…”

Anakin looked up from his current project, eager to hear what you had to say to him.

“What was that look Master Kenobi gave you when we arrived at the Jedi Temple yesterday?”

The young Padawan was caught off guard by your question.

How'd she even notice that?

He cleared his throat, nervously running a hand through his hair.

Why is she asking? Because of Obi-Wan…or me?

Anakin would've rather avoided this specific matter completely. He didn't want to squander his chance to recreate your bond, though, so stonewalling was not an option.

“His…he…his senses. He must've sensed that something was off when he saw me and he didn't like whatever he sensed”, Anakin answered. If there was a price for giving the most vague answer in the galaxy, he'd have a pretty good shot at it right now.

“Oh, really?”, you said dryly. “And what exactly did he sense?” Anakin writhed under your expectant stare. “My anger…?”, he uttered, as if he was asking you a question. He glanced at you. “Just out of curiosity…why do you care?” “I don't know, maybe I was hoping it'd explain you lashing out on me later that day.”

In fact, it sort of linked up. Master Kenobi had sensed Anakin’s infatuation with you the second the both of you had made your entrance.

Anakin felt slightly embarrassed and caught. He didn't expect you to confront him like that. His eyes were glued to the transmitter in his hands. At the same time, he was under far too much pressure from the pending mission around the anomaly - and the uncertainty that came with it - to act reasonably.

“It had nothing to do with you. The way Master Windu dismissed me that day was unfair. I…I hate it when they treat me like I can’t be trusted”, he began, his usual defensiveness getting the better of him. You frowned at him. “Anakin. You do know that didn’t happen until after the consultation. So, for all the stars in our galaxy, are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

The fact that you didn’t let go bothered Anakin. His defensiveness made him blind to the real cause of your persistence, though: you cared too much about your bond to let this slide. Like in your astronomical researches, you needed to get to the bottom of this incident to understand where he was coming from.

“I’m not trying to pester you, and I’m not going to judge you, Anakin”, you said calmly, “And I appreciate what you’re doing: showing up here, offering to help me on your own accord…but you need to help me understand.”

Your grounded, non-judgemental approach took Anakin by surprise. Usually his temper tantrums didn’t leave any room for goodwill.

He glanced up at you, his features softening. “You didn’t deserve this. I shouldn’t have treated you like that.” He took a few steps away from you - opening up was easier if he didn’t have to look at you while doing so. “Sometimes the pressure gets to me, and whoever is around me…” He fell silent, hoping you’d piece it together yourself. “Master Kenobi sees right through me. He must have sensed that I would rebel against their decision.”

Being this vulnerable already took the young Padawan beyond his comfort zone - he couldn’t bear telling you the whole truth…yet.

Silence filled the room. Anakin’s words weighed on you. Although he didn’t say much or apologized in a traditional sense, you were aware of how much meaning his openness held.

“You’re right, I didn’t deserve this”, you said, keeping a calm tone. The sound of your voice made Anakin turn towards you a little, just enough to show he listened without looking at you. “And I can see why it’s hard for you. Just…don’t push me away next time. I mean, you can confide in me.” As soon as those last words had left your mouth, you regretted them. It felt like crossing a line. Telling him he could confide in you required a certain level of intimacy you weren’t sure the two of you had reached yet.

“Is that so?”

Anakin faced you now, searching for something in your eyes - a hint of gentleness, maybe. You met his gaze with a small smile on your lips. He raised one eyebrow at you. “I didn’t realize we were this close already.” “You’re unbelievable”, you shot back, but your smile only grew wider. He chuckled, a wave of relief washing over him. Balance in the galaxy had been restored.

“Now, tell me: Is it actually protocol for you to do a follow-up check on my telescope?”

“It is, if you're a responsible Jedi with outstanding engineering skills who takes his assignments seriously.”

“So…no”, you stated.

“You really do love research, don’t you?”, Anakin asked, grinning, “Even in areas beyond science.”

“How else am I supposed to figure you out?”

“Well, I might have some ideas”, he said, teasingly raising his eyebrows at you. His charming demeanor was enough to make your stomach drop and your cheeks grew hot with bashfulness. “You know, like some more of that insightful talking we just did”, he added, acting all innocent.

Your awkward self was comfortable with a certain amount of playful banter, but Anakin’s effortless flirting triggered an emotional glitch. All you could muster was an unintelligible sound.

Anakin enjoyed seeing you this flustered, especially since one flirty implication was all it took. He watched you with adoration as you held up your notes, a nervous chuckle escaping you. “I better get back to my long overdue clean-up. And you better take care of my transmitter.” He raised his hand to his brow, giving you an exaggerated, overly dramatic salute. “Your wish is my command.”

What kind of dynamic is that?

You dismissed your notes, they required too much mental energy right now. Instead you tidied up one of the shelves filled with old technical equipment (which might seem like useless junk to the untrained eye).

Only a few moments ago Anakin was this vulnerable, insecure guy who could hardly get out a word - and now? Now you were back to that playful atmosphere that always made you crumble under his charming advances. Calling yourself a star map with no encryption seemed like an understatement - you practically pointed the way with the exact coordinates. The fact that you made it perfectly obvious how his words affected you left you feeling incredibly embarrassed in his presence. You almost wished back the tension-filled silence from before. At least you knew how to handle that.

And then, as if the galaxy heard your urgent plea for an escape, Anakin’s holographic transmitter started buzzing, and Master Windu appeared.

“Master Windu!”, you greeted him, sounding a little too eager.

“Young Skywalker”, he said, not acknowledging your presence. You shut your mouth close, Anakin smirked at you before bowing to Master Windu. “Yes, Master?” “You are to return as soon as you complete your mission at the observatory to continue your training with Master Kenobi. There are further orders awaiting you at the temple, concerning the anomaly.” “Yes, Master. I will be back as soon as possible.” Master Windu finally addressed you: “As for you, Y/N: Your mission is to observe the anomaly and report any changes to me immediately.” “Of course, Master Windu.” The transmission ended.

You stared at Anakin. “What do you think this means? What’s happening?”

The young Padawan slowly shook his head, trying to process the information. “It sounded like we're preparing for a fight…or at least a possible confrontation.”

Your eyes widened. “A confrontation? With the Sith?”

Anakin kept tinkering at your transmitter, nodding. “If we're lucky enough this time.” “Lucky? That's one way to put it.” He gave you a knowing smile. “There's no need to worry about me, Y/N. This is what I've been training for my whole life.” “Who said I was worried?”, you mumbled, more to yourself than him. His only response was a soft chuckle.

You stole a quick glance at the scattered parts of the holo-transmitters, trying to figure out how long it would take Anakin to fix the new model for you. Although you hated to admit it, you wished he could stay after fulfilling his duty.

“So…I believe I saw some other equipment of yours that could use a little update”, he noted casually, “Want me to check on that when I return from my mission?” “Wow, I didn’t know that fixing stuff was such a priority in Jedi training.” Deep down it was all you yearned for.

“I'll take that as a ‘yes’ then, judging from the way you just beamed with joy.”

Oh.

Apparently you had zero control over your facial expressions.

You cleared your throat, grasping for a cover. “Yeah, I mean…the thought of new equipment excites me.”

Nailed it. Maybe.

Obviously, flirting has never been your biggest strength, but it wasn't just that. You knew Anakin was naturally charming and witty, so you suspected he acted that way around everyone he felt comfortable with.

Just don’t read too much into it. I'm sure it doesn't mean anything. By the Force, don't read too much into it. Keep it cool.

“Alright, Y/N, I fear this is it. Your new transmitter is ready for communicating beyond the realm of the Jedi Temple.” Anakin held said object out to you, seemingly proud of his work. You reached out to take it from him, only to feel his fingers softly brush yours - so subtle it might have been nothing but imagination. Nonetheless it was enough to send an electrifying sensation through your body, leaving you with a warm fuzzy feeling in your stomach.

I see, we're keeping it cool.

“Thank you. Now Master Windu can contact me to pressure me about my observations from anywhere in the galaxy.” A sigh of relief almost escaped you. Seemed like you rediscovered your sense of humor, despite your nervous system still short-circuiting from the unexpected physical touch.

“Anytime, Y/N”, Anakin said, grinning from ear to ear. If there was something you didn't know about Jedi and the Force, it was how attuned they were to other people's emotions. The moment Anakin had softly grazed your fingers, he had felt your strong reaction almost as if it was his own.

He could barely resist teasing you about it now, but at the same time he didn't want to push your boundaries. It was enough for him to know he had this effect on you.

You looked up at the young Padawan, a warm smile on your face. “Well…I hope to hear news about your mission soon. And be careful out there.”

“I will be. Promise. Can't wait for our next repair session.”

He gave you one last smile before he disappeared out the door. The second he was gone, you dropped on your chair, dramatically sliding down to the floor. Nothing ever called for floor time as much as those emotionally charged times.

“By the Force. What is happening to me?”, you groaned with frustration - at the same time you couldn’t ignore a certain giddiness causing butterflies in your stomach.

“It’s not that serious. I'm okay. I'm fine.” Your pounding heart and heated cheeks  proved the opposite. You sighed, feeling defeated. “I will be fine.”

-

Lucky for you, your hyperfocus on observing the Exoplanet kicked in. Now your brain was occupied with receiving and analyzing data more than anything as soon as you had returned to your telescope. You kept referring to the anomaly as ‘Grithly’ (gravitational Sith anomaly). You really needed to come up with a better name, but now was not the time.

Anomalies (even ones not caused by nature, like ‘Grithly’) kept changing their temperature and wavelengths, so the tricky part was to figure out any alarming. abnormalities. You used old data from past anomalies you have monitored yourself. The only issue was that you - due to lack of insights granted from the Jedi Council - missed a few essential factors for this specific kind of observation.

Without hesitation you contacted Master Windu - you had collected enough data to know exactly what information was missing. You only called the Jedi master when fully convinced you had ruled out every other opportunity.

“Master, it is urgent. I have found that Observatory Acklay is lacking crucial data for my research on Grithly…on the anomaly. I'm assuming it is safely stored in the archives at the Temple since the data I need most likely contains detailed information on the Sith.”

“It is evident you have done excellent research, but information of that kind is kept in the archives for a reason. Even amongst the Council it is not a given to have access. Submit your observations to me, I will consult with the Council”, Master Windu decided, an unreadable expression on his face. “We will decide if the data is deemed necessary for our mission and if access should be granted.”

“I understand. Thank you, Master Windu.”

After you transmitted your data you took a deep breath, trying to relax. Sometimes you found it hard to deal with his stern demeanor, especially when you felt confident you'd get what you asked for immediately.

Let's be honest for a second…it bothers me that he wouldn't just trust me on this. Isn't it extremely urgent to keep the research going?

Huh. That thought process seemed familiar.

You sat with the feeling for a while, simultaneously wondering how the Jedi expected you to help them if they didn't grant you access to their archives. After all it was them who needed your help on this anomaly. You didn't work on this for your own personal gain. They should be grateful you figured out what you needed exactly to keep this mission going!

Okay. Maybe you didn’t throw temper tantrums like a certain someone, but they definitely happened inside your head.

Anakin would understand.

…

Kriff. It's gotten this far now? ‘Anakin would understand’??

Sitting around in waiting mode gave you too much time to think and it was driving you crazy.

How long does it take for them to decide this? It's a simple ‘yes' or ‘no’ matter.

Was this the kind of frustration Anakin felt every time the Council showed they didn't fully trust in his abilities?

Before you could dwell on this longer, your holo-transmitter flickered and to your surprise it was not Master Windu contacting you this time.

“Master Kenobi?”

You didn’t mean for your words to give away just how surprised you were, but seeing the Jedi's hologram without any warning left you no chance to hide it.

“Hello there, Y/N. I'm sure you've been anticipating our decision already.”

You were not used to a Jedi master making any kind of friendly exchange before cutting to the chase. All you could muster was an enthusiastic nod. Simultaneously a voice inside your head basically screamed: Obi-Wan Kenobi just contacted you. You!! On your transmitter!

“Fortunately I was able to convince the Council that you can be trusted on this important matter - and that it was urgent to get to the bottom of this anomaly. You will be granted limited access to the archives in the Jedi Temple as soon as you get here.”

Your eyes widened. The fact that Obi-Wan Kenobi trusted you was overwhelming already - but the fact that he convinced the entire Council to grant you access to the archives? That was huge - so huge it left you speechless for a moment.

Master Kenobi only needed to raise one eyebrow - a small display of impatience - to bring you back from your mental glitch.

“Thank you for trusting me, Master Kenobi. You will not be disappointed!”, you responded, “I am making my way to the Jedi Temple immediately.” “Very good, Y/N. One of our temple aids will await you and show you around.”

-

When Master Kenobi had said one of the temple aids would show you around, you expected someone to meet you at the entrance of the Jedi Temple. Now you've been waiting a while already and you started to doubt anyone was coming.

Great. I guess I have to find my way to the archives on my own, then?

All you knew was how to get to the communication center. One possibility was to head there and ask someone to help you. But…what if, right now at this moment, the Jedi Council consulted in the communication center and you'd burst in, unannounced?

Yepp, definitely not doing that.

Aimlessly wandering through the hallways seemed like your only option now.

You tried your best to make sense of this maze. The communication center was located on the upper levels, so you instinctively headed there first. You figured it'd make sense to keep the archives close to that area.

Some extra time actually came in handy right now. You still needed a little peace and quiet to process what was happening. The fact that the Jedi Council (and specifically Obi-Wan Kenobi) ordered you here to continue your observations was the biggest honor a young astronomer like you could hope for. It was the ultimate appreciation for your skills, and proof of how trustworthy they deemed you. Whatever you made of this opportunity, it had to be something phenomenal. Contrary to your expectations this thought didn't intimidate you, it fueled you. You were determined to show everyone how brilliant you were - starting with trying to orient yourself.

Right now you were on the same level as the communication center.

I hope I won't run into Master Windu or Master Kenobi here.

There were no archives in sight. You wanted to turn around and walk back, but something else caught your attention instead: the faint buzzing of a lightsaber. Curiosity got the better of you and you decided to follow the sound, convincing yourself it might lead you to your destination (it didn't).

You got closer to the room the buzzing came from - quietly, walking on tiptoes, very aware that this wasn’t exactly your place to be. But the slightest possibility of seeing Anakin excited you - more than you were willing to admit to yourself.

Your wish should be granted.

When you got into the dark corridor leading to the training rooms, close enough to peek inside, you spotted him. Your heart skipped a beat.

The electric blue of his lightsaber lit up the room like lightning, his movements radiated with elegance, confidence and something dangerous. The way he spun his lightsaber made every movement he made seem so effortless and…

Hot.

That was easily the hottest thing you had ever witnessed in your life. There was no use in denying it. His lightsaber training unfolded like beautiful choreography in front of your eyes, as if he was dancing with the Force.

Seeing him in his element finally made you accept the fact that you were head over heels for Anakin Skywalker, and in this particular moment he looked more attractive to you than he ever had before.

He paused for a brief moment - a moment so inconspicuous you didn't even notice - before he proceeded with a move that seemed like he had done it a million times; twirling his lightsaber in front and then behind his back while spinning around. Your eyes were glued to him, you couldn't help it. Something about him was magnetic and seemed to draw you in - like the gravitational pull of a star.

Okay, Y/N, seriously. Is this how you're gonna show the Jedi Council how brilliant you are? Snap out of it, by the Force.

The reasonable part of you eventually gained the upper hand, allowing you to tear yourself away from the captivating sight in front of you.

You exhaled, running a hand through your hair, trying to calm down from the high you just experienced.

Is that what going insane feels like?

How much time have you spent in the Jedi Temple already without even finding your destination? You imagined someone at the archives impatiently waiting for you to arrive, growing more and more frustrated with every minute. It seemed harder than before to focus on finding the way - images of Anakin smoothly spinning his lightsaber flashed before your eyes, actually making your head spin.

“Y/N!”

You froze. This couldn’t be happening.

Don't do this to me. Please, I'm begging you.

Anakin caught up to you. Fortunately you weren't suspiciously close to the training rooms anymore. Still…he might have caught you watching him in complete awe. You mentally prepared for the worst, while trying your hardest to act like a normal person.

“Anakin!”

“I didn't know you'd come to the Jedi Temple. What brings you here?”, he asked, smiling at you.

He sounded genuinely surprised, there was not the tiniest teasing glint in his eyes. A wave of relief washed over you - you thought yourself out of danger. It didn’t change how differently you perceived him now, though. The way he stood only inches away, smiling at you in a way that seemed to be specifically crafted for you, being insanely attractive without even trying. You could’ve melted right on the spot…

By the Force, calm down. He is literally just. standing. there. Get it together.

“I'm actually…I'm lost”, you stammered. “I'm supposed to be at the archives, but it's impossible to find anything in here.” 

Anakin simply nodded, trying his best to keep his cool. A teasing remark waited at the tip of his tongue - despite your assumptions he had noticed you watching him before. He had sensed your presence before you could even lay eyes on him.

The young Padawan couldn’t believe how oblivious you were to the Jedi's use of the Force. It would've been so easy to catch you off guard right now, right here in the hallways, but he didn't deem it the best timing. Other Jedi might cross your way any moment. He'd have his fun with you and your shining stalker moment, but for now he decided to help you without giving away anything.

“I'll show you, don't worry.”

Anakin walked you through the hallways, further away from the training rooms. “So, how is it that you're allowed in the archives anyway?” “The Council granted me limited access for my research on Grithly”, you told him, shaking your head, “I still can't quite believe it, to be honest.” “That's fantastic, Y/N! I mean, that's huge. They really trust you.” He glanced at you, a grin on his face. “By the way…‘Grithly’?” You pouted, jokingly. “What about it? It's short for ‘gravitational Sith anomaly'. I didn't have time to come up with a better name and now it stuck with me.” “I bet it's eternalized in your stack of notes somewhere.” You chuckled. “That really stuck with you, huh?” “How could it not?”

Thanks to your relaxed conversation (and your infatuation with Anakin reaching a whole new level) you completely forgot to get anxious about doing official research at the archives. It only hit you when you were standing right in front of the entrance.

“Wow. I never thought I'd see this with my own eyes”, you whispered in awe.

“It is pretty impressive, right?”

“It’s intimidating.”

“Only from the outside. I bet you'll just dive right into your research and forget the whole galaxy around you”, Anakin said, confident you'd do an excellent job. You took a deep breath, nodding. He was right. This was your specialty.

“Alright, I'll leave you to it. And hey…” He turned towards you before he left: “Find me after? I have a feeling you'll know the way.”

You stood there, allowing yourself to look after him for a moment. He wanted you to find him after? And what did he mean when he said-

Seriously. Stop.

It was overdue you found the temple aid who would assist you with your research. You entered the archives and immediately fell in love with the interior: walls stacked with data records extended in front of your eyes. They illuminated the hall with a mysterious blue glow, waiting for you to dive into them.

“Ah, the young astronomer.” You turned to where the voice just came from. A lady with a stern expression on her face walked towards you. “I assume some greater force must have prevented you from arriving sooner”, the temple aid said, eyeing you with disapproval.

She must be best friends with Master Windu.

“Hello”, you said with a small bow, “I apologize for that. I hope I didn't inconvenience you.” You tried your best to seem like a respectable individual despite your late arrival. Talking in an elevated manner demanded a lot of mental energy from you, so you were eager to get this over with and use your energy for more important matters.

“Follow me”, the temple aid ordered and led you to a separate area of the big hall, past all those glowing data sets. Your eyes sparkled with excitement. You wondered what secrets lay beneath each of them.

“You are granted access to past studies of anomalies associated with the Sith. We have prepared your current research data which Master Kenobi personally transferred to us.” The lady showed you to the console which contained said data. You definitely needed to thank Master Kenobi personally for this.

Fortunately the surface of the console was similar to the ones in the Acklay Observatory. Besides, you were a quick learner.

The lady removed herself without a word after you thanked her. You took a deep breath, getting familiar with the console in front of you and dove into the sacred, secret world of Sith anomalies. You were on high alert - your senses on high alert and ready to absorb every bit of new information you could find. Your hands glided over the display, smoothly maneuvering the control system, arranging your ‘Grithly’ data so you could keep an eye on it while going through the archive. This was your beautiful choreography.

After comparing several astronomical parameters, you came across a specific shared trait between “your” anomaly and the other Sith anomalies from the archives. It bent space and time in a way that made it almost impossible to track other activities in the affected area - and in this specific case it seemed to impact the exoplanet as a whole. The temperature fluctuations, gravitational changes, and every unnatural occurrence caused by the anomaly served as a distraction from something else - something even more sinister, as you suspected now.

What could it be? What are they hiding?

It seemed like you had reached a dead end. If the anomaly overshadowed what was really happening on the exoplanet's surface, how were you supposed to get to the bottom of it? Either you found a solution, or the Jedi's only chance was to fly a mission to the exoplanet, not knowing what was awaiting them. They would not only face the anomaly, but whatever dark secrets lay beneath it, unprepared and at the mercy of the Sith.

The thought alone made your heart sting. This mission has slowly turned from a simple job to a matter of the heart, now that you've gotten closer to one particular person affected. The additional concern played in your hands, though. Not only were you driven by the urge to prove yourself, help the Jedi Council and uncover the Sith's plans - you wanted to prevent Anakin from as much danger as possible.

Would your abilities suffice, though?

It was hard to tell how much time had passed since you stepped into the cryptic, twisted cosmos of anomalies. Slowly but steady your head started spinning. The mission was emotionally and mentally taxing and it took its toll on you. This was usually the time to take a step back and physically remove yourself from the situation. You weren’t sure if it was alright to leave and come back later, though.

Why is there no official rulebook for strangers who visit the Jedi Temple archives for the first time in their lives and have zero clue on how to act?

You sighed. There was no use in trying to continue right now. You used a system encryption to make sure no one was able to even get a glance at the data sets before you wandered off, back to the entrance, and outside.

The huge windows in the hallways offered a seemingly endless view over the cityscape. When you realized the sun was already setting, it dawned on you for how long you've actually been here. You watched the streams of airspeeders in the distance and completely zoned out to give your mind a well-deserved break.

“There you are. I thought you might have left already.”

And just like that you were forced to return from your mental parallel universe of peace and quiet. At the same time it filled your heart with joy to see Anakin walking towards you, smiling at you in this very…Anakin way.

“Why would I have left? Just because the sun is already setting and I basically lost track of time?” You meant for your words to sound lighthearted, instead they came out with a certain sense of heaviness. To hide your overwhelm you added: “I mean…I'm a little tired from all the hard work.”

Anakin stood next to you, the golden beams of the setting sun bathing him in a warm light and little specks of light dancing in his blue eyes. For a moment you forgot why you were here or why you felt exhausted. Warmth was spreading through your body, and it didn't stem from the sun shining on your face.

“Are you sure that's all?”, he asked, carefully eyeing you. Although he was very aware of how his presence affected you, he could still feel the underlying heaviness of whatever was going on with you. Now didn't seem like the time to bask in the joy of your reaction, but it definitely moved him.

Telling him the truth - that you felt stuck - seemed like a huge step. What good would it do to admit your struggles to him? This was your field of expertise. The Jedi trusted in your abilities to find out what the Sith were hiding. Feeling lost weighed on you, but saying it out loud would make it more…real.

“Do you remember when you told me I could confide in you? The same is true for you, Y/N. Whatever it is, I am here for-”

“Anakin. Y/N.”

Both of you were startled by the calm, but firm voice calling you.

Master Kenobi.

He seemed to have appeared out of nowhere.

“Master Kenobi”, you greeted him, making a small bow. He nodded at you, then threw an undefinable look at his Padawan.

“I came down here to inquire whether the archives have helped your research so far?”

The way he phrased his question actually allowed you to give a comprehensive report of the situation without mentioning your struggles. You broke the complex data down into easily digestible information. With talking about your recent discoveries came a positive side-effect: You gained a different perspective on all the effort you put into your work today. You realized how far you have come, even if you felt stuck in this moment.

Since your findings made the seriousness of the anomaly situation even clearer, the mood slightly shifted. Master Kenobi listened to you with unease, Anakin tensed up. No one said it out loud, but the Jedi were clearly alarmed.

Master Kenobi decided not to mention his concerns - he didn't deem it necessary. This was a matter for the Council. Instead he focused on your progress: “You have really outdone yourself today, Y/N. The Council will be pleased to hear that we have moved a lot closer to uncovering the Sith's intentions.”

“Thank you, Master. For your trust and granting me access to the archives.” “Your insights are a great contribution to this mission, Y/N.” He gave you a reassuring pat on your shoulder. “And I know that Master Windu agrees with me.”

Adding this information was a kind thing to do and proved the impression you've always had of Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Your conversation seemed to be based on a more equal footing now, which was reflected in the fact that you didn’t feel so sheepish around him anymore - and less…smitten. There might have been a different reason behind your change of emotions, though.

Said “reason” had been standing next to you awfully quiet, but observing your interaction carefully.

“You will have continued access to the archives as long as your research calls for it. I will report everything to the Council”, Master Kenobi stated. He turned to Anakin. “I know you have been training hard all day. I am proud of your efforts, Anakin. It's best for you to rest now and ration your energy.” “Thank you, Master”, the young Padawan responded, glowing with pride that he had been praised in your presence.

Master Kenobi said his goodbyes to follow his own words with deeds and report to the Council.

Anakin and you, however, stayed put.

“You’re…incredible. You know that, right?” 

Receiving praise and approval from Obi-Wan Kenobi was one thing - but Anakin telling you that you were incredible? That hit differently. After all your hard work it felt so good to hear those words from him.

“I mean it”, he continued, “The way you figured all that out…you're here for the first time and instead of feeling intimidated, you just dive right into it and make those amazing discoveries?”

He shook his head, as if he couldn't quite believe it. “Seriously. Every time I think I got you figured out, you do something that surprises me even more.”

By the Force, get it together.

Anakin didn't mean to get so close to the edge. But he was eager to prove that your connection ran deeper than it ever could with anyone else - especially after you received praise from Master Kenobi. Although he was proud on your behalf, he wanted you to know that he was the one really seeing you - not only your scientific contributions, but you. How you had become more to him than an ally on a mission.

Anakin’s sincere admiration for your abilities and your essence sent that familiar warm sensation through your body. The way he nervously scratched the back of his neck with a chuckle right now caught your attention, though. Him looking flustered was a rare sight.

“Thank you, Anakin”, you said sheepishly, cheeks flushed, “I'm flattered.”

Returning some of the praise seemed to be the only right response. Part of you longed to tell him how you had witnessed his hard work (aka his stunning lightsaber training) yourself - a step you were not willing to take yet, though. You decided to stick to a more neutral approach, a little overwhelmed with the emotionally charged situation. “It sounded like you have worked hard as well, though, considering Master Kenobi’s words about your training from before.”

As soon as those words left your mouth, it was like you'd given Anakin an unofficial cue - a cue to finally address something that's been sitting in the back of his mind all day. His usual teasing grin spread across his face. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “Oh. Right. About that…” “About what?”, you asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

Anakin bit his lip, hardly able to contain himself. “Say, did you know how well my senses are actually trained by now?” “Pretty well, I guess?”

You didn’t quite follow what was going on. Did you miss something? What was that smug look on his face for?

Anakin pushed himself off the wall, taking two steps closer to you. He didn't care anymore about being out in the hallways, he couldn't wait any longer to confront you.

“You really can't tell where I'm going with this?”

By now he was only inches away from you. He supported himself against the wall with one hand before he leant in a little closer.

Him being so dangerously close made you weak in the knees, unable to form a sentence. All you could do was stare at him in anticipation while your mind was racing.

Why is he being like this?!

“Did you actually think I wouldn't notice your presence back there?”

That's all it took.

Your eyes widened.

The realization came crashing down on you like a wave.

Anakin watched you as your inner emotional chaos unfolded - and he sensed all of it.

“Listen, I…uh, I got lost in this maze while looking for the archives, and I just happened to…I didn't want to interrupt your training, so I left without saying a word. It's not like I stalked you, or anything.”

The way your face heated up didn't exactly help your case. Anakin being in your personal space along with the revelation of him knowing was too much to handle.

“Is that so? I mean, you just brought up the word ‘stalking’…”

His response made you feel even more embarrassed - though that was hardly possible. Maybe it would be for the best to not say a word ever again. For the rest of my life, preferably.

You were perfectly capable of finding other ways to reveal yourself, though. All you meant to do was avoid looking at Anakin - instead your eyes flicked to the lightsaber clipped to his belt.

“Oh. So, that's what's on your mind right now?” He looked around, clicking his tongue. “I fear the hallway isn't the best place to show off my lightsaber skills, though.”

He couldn’t remember ever enjoying an interaction as much as this particular one. In his eyes you were the most adorable you had ever been now.

Although he wished you would just admit your feelings, part of him was scared, too. Maybe the reason he found it so easy to confront you despite his fear was him doubting you'd actually be genuine this time.

“Alright, you win.”

Anakin raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“I mean…you know. I know you know. And now you know that I know that you know. Or something like that.”

“Is that all?”

“What else do you want me to say?”

He smirked at you. “You’re not getting away that easily.” Just in this moment his senses picked up the presence from one of the temple aids. Although he had decided to throw caution to the wind before, he suddenly became painfully aware of how obvious he's been around you - right in the middle of the hallway.

Meanwhile, your research and all the struggles that came with it seemed so far away, like a different galaxy in the universe. Anakin had successfully taken your mind off things.

In fact, your mind seemed to not cooperate much at all since he had gotten closer to you. To your surprise he took a few steps back now, glancing back at the entrance of the archives.

You heaved a sigh of relief. Any more of his flirting and you would've randomly combusted.

“I'm afraid this is not the best place and time for our…conversation.” “Right. Yeah, that's too bad”, you agreed, acting all innocent. Anakin grinned at you, enjoying the sarcasm in your voice.

“I think it's actually time for me to get back home. I'm beyond exhausted.” The sun had set and it's gotten dark outside. There was absolutely no way you'd get anything else done tonight…not with all this emotional turmoil. Besides, it was the perfect opportunity to escape his interrogation.

Or so you thought.

Anakin saw right through you and your escape plan. He casually suggested: “I could take you. It's dark outside and I'm sure you'd love to get home as quickly as possible.”

He wasn't joking when he said you'd not get away that easily.

How were you supposed to respond to his offer? No thanks, I'd rather get away from you so I don't accidentally admit how incredibly sexy I think you are?

“I thought you were supposed to rest and ration your energy?” “Taking you home doesn’t exactly call for a lot of action. Unless…” He went quiet, his ‘I love making you feel incredibly flustered with my subtle flirty hints’ look in his eyes.

“Can you just take me and not say another word?”, you asked, half-jokingly, half-serious.

“I can do that. Don't worry, I'll behave.”

That you didn’t buy for a second. But getting home quickly sounded too good to deny it - so you gave in and accepted his offer.

[piastrixpole]

i. bahrain

pairing: logan sargeant x fem!oc (daisy shaw)

genre: written

based on the 2023 season

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daisyshaw   off-season (feat danny ric)

Contrary to what her name would suggest Daisy Shaw was anything but pure and joyful when she was first exposed to the pinnacle of motorsport. When the discourse surrounding whether or not a woman should be allowed ascend to the highest level of motorsport first circulated on the internet there was of course mixed reactions. One thing was for certain though - nobody had been expecting it to be someone like Daisy.

The not so fittingly named Daisy who had been hardened beyond recognition on her journey to the top. The Daisy who had emerged from the flames of the underworld which had sought to burn her alive like a re-coming of Prometheus himself. The Daisy who projected a cold front to those around her but was achingly lonely.

Becoming a sort of poster girl for acceptance and inclusivity within Formula One was an unfortunate side effect of finally getting a seat at the table. Daisy hated all the attention she received purely for being there and the questions which didn't even attempt to cover her driving, the only thing that made her slightly happy was that she definitely wasn't the kind of girl the FIA wanted to be the first female driver on the grid. She was icy, detached and unafraid to call out the blatant sexists she encountered even if it didn't make her popular with the public who just wanted a well tempered, sunshine of a girl.

She wasn't exactly approachable so despite the terrible loneliness eroding through her veins with each awkward smile shared with a fellow driver she knew it was her own doing, and for the better. Last year in her rookie season she had been paired up with Henry Downing, a fellow British driver 8 years her senior who had retired at the end of the year. Daisy had ended up outperforming him by the end of the season which hadn't helped their already tense relationship so she wasn't overly upset to see him go.

And now in an all too ironic twist of fate she was joining sunshine personified himself, Daniel Ricciardo. Daisy's sharp edges and brash words didn't faze him. Not when one of his best friends was a slightly prickly Max Verstappen. Daniel was determined to make Daisy admit they were best friends at some point over the season, and truth be told she could see it happening. It was hard not to when he was so infuriatingly positive and welcoming to her. She wasn't going to be voicing it aloud anytime soon though. He already had enough of an ego and she wasn't quite ready to open up to him just yet.

"Daisy," a now familiar voice boomed from further up the track and a quick glance up from the data she'd been reviewing with her race engineer "how's my favourite rain cloud??"

As Daniel approached with his trademark grin, Daisy couldn't help but roll her eyes internally. His relentless positivity was like a ray of sunshine piercing through her carefully constructed storm clouds. She appreciated his efforts, she really did, but sometimes she wished he could just let her be. That and she'd been hoping that Daniel wasn't going to make that nickname stick but apparently all that longing was futile. "So much worse now that you're here," she gave him a sickly sweet smile in return, knowing he wouldn't actually take her words seriously.

Rain cloud had come around from the first time her and Daniel had met after he signed for Porsche. Despite being on the grid together the year before Daniel had never spoken to the young girl and it wasn't as if Daisy was running around introducing herself to everyone either. The only person she had really gotten to know was Zhou, her fellow rookie, as she could talk freely with him far easier and without generating dating rumours about herself.

She'd learnt that the hard way when the Lewis Hamilton had gone out of his way to meet her and the next day she woke up to every media outlet running a story accusing her of sleeping with him to get her seat. Was it kind of flattering? Definitely. It was Lewis Hamilton for crying out loud. But she wasn't going to give them any more ammunition so Daisy had kept to herself after that.

Daniel chuckled, unfazed by her sardonic response. He'd gotten well acquainted with the way Daisy talked during testing and when he'd seen her around in the factory. "Ah, you wound me, Daisy," he said, clapping a hand on her shoulder. "You know you love having me around to brighten up your day."

Daisy resisted the urge to shrug off his touch, instead offering him a wry smile. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves, Ricciardo," she retorted, her gaze flickering towards the track. "We've got a qualifying session to focus on, remember?"

Undeterred by her dismissive tone, Daniel grinned. "Always so serious little rain cloud," he said, falling into step beside her as they made their way towards the garage. "But hey, no hard feelings when I beat you out there, yeah?"

Daisy raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corners of her lips. "Oh, you wish, Ricciardo," she shot back, a competitive fire igniting in her eyes. "I'll see you on the track – and may the best driver win."

Getting back into the car to race was thrill like no other. Adrenaline pumped through Daisy at a remarkable speed as the anticipation grew. Her trusty pair of headphones were still resting on the crown of her head as she blasted music through them to hype herself up. Daisy's music choices before racing had been a long running joke on Twitter as they were strictly depressing, a stark contrast to the rest of the grid. It was either that or something so British that it out George Russell to shame.

As she finished dancing away in her seat to Phoebe Bridgers, Daniel waved at her from the other side of the garage. They had been putting in similar lap times during free practice but she wanted to be better in qualifying. It wasn't going to be easy though. Not when they were both hungry for a win and desperate to prove themselves. Daniel had a rough season last year at McLaren and was determined to show that he still had it. And Daisy bore the burden of proving her gender's competency to drive in F1 every time she got in the car, along with her individual desire to perform to the highest standard.

Both Porsche drivers were in a precarious position. Teetering on the verge of greatness but with each less than optimal finish, with every practice that could have gone better the tightrope they were balancing on grew less stable. Now Daisy would never claim to be immune to pressure, it was quite the opposite in fact. She welcomed the high expectations placed on her shoulders and the highly critical eyes zoned in on her performance. She thrived because of it all. It had always been that way. Ever since she was a young girl she had lived for the thrill of proving everyone wrong and that trait had transitioned into adulthood and only grown.

As the moon cast its silver hues over the Bahrain International Circuit Daisy slipped into the cockpit of her car, her heartbeat echoing in her ears as she got into position. The roar of the engine reverberated through her bones as she navigated the pit lane, her mind focused and unyielding. That was something Daisy adored about driving. As soon as she was behind that wheel it was as if everything else ceased to exist. Time rather ironically slowed down and all that was left was her. Before she knew it, Daisy was approaching the start of her first flying lap around the circuit and the comforting surge of adrenaline coursed through her veins, reigniting the fire within her that had been dormant since the end of last season.

Behind the wheel, Daisy felt the car come alive beneath her, its power and agility responding to her every command. Yet, as she pushed harder, she encountered her first challenge – a sharp turn that demanded precision and finesse. With a deft touch on the brakes and a calculated flick of the steering wheel she weaved swiftly around the corner, her heart pounding with exhilaration.

The relentless heat became more of an issue as the laps wore on. Daisy was incredibly grateful for the experience she'd gained racing this track last year in her rookie season but she definitely hadn't missed the sweltering heat it brought even in the night. Considering that she'd been born and raised in North England most of her life and then only moved to Germany once she signed with Porsche, she didn't cope well with warm climates. However she was determined to not show weakness nor to let it get to her. So she continued to work with the car, searching for that elusive sweet spot where speed and control converged.

Amidst the chaos of the track, Daisy found solace in the voice of her race engineer whose instructions crackled through the radio like a lifeline. "Try braking later into turn 4 Daisy, you're gaining time there," Anja advised, her voice cutting through the cacophony that was the engine's roar.

One of Daisy's conditions when she had signed for the team the prior year was that she wanted a female team around her. If she was going to be the unwilling poster girl for diversity in the sport, she at least wanted to surround herself with more girls and Anja had been stellar last year so Daisy was thrilled to have her alongside again. Taking her advice, Daisy adjusted her approach, pushing the car to its limits as she attacked the corner with newfound aggression. The sensation of the G-forces pressing against her body only propelled her forward with unwavering resolve.

It was nearing the end of qualifying and Daisy was about to embark upon her final lap of the session. Heart racing with anticipation, Daisy gave it her all as she navigated the turns and the straights with precision.

"Keep pushing Daisy, you're doing great." Anja reassured her.

As she rounded the final corner and charged towards the finish line, Daisy poured every last ounce of energy she had left into her for the final push. Then breathless but exhilarated Daisy waited with bated breath for Anja to deliver the verdict of her efforts.

"That's P9 Daisy," Anja informed her over the radio "P9, good job."

While that wasn't quite the result Daisy had been hoping for, she was still satisfied that she'd done absolutely everything she could with the car and her performance couldn't have been better. "Thanks Anja, where's Daniel."

There was a pause on the other end before the other girl replied "P7."

"Not a bad start from us huh," Daisy hummed as she guided her Porsche into its designated spot. P9 could be a lot better but she was prepared to fight tooth and nail on the track the next day and hopefully gain some ground over the course of the race.

The fact that Daniel had outqualified her did gnaw at her confidence a little. But she kept that beneath the surface, fighting to bottle away the lingering disappointment as she congratulated him and the team. It wasn't as though she cared that he personally outplaced her and was now in a better starting position and Daisy was genuinely happy for his success after his previous rough year but she yearned to prove herself on equal footing. Never mind the fact that Daniel was a highly gifted and seasoned driver, Daisy had to show the world that she was more than just a diversity quota – that she belonged amongst the elite.

Anja seemed to be able to read between the lines without Daisy even mentioning the slight envy she felt "Do you want to know the order Daisy?"

She contemplated it momentarily but her curiosity was more important than her ego then "sure, go on."

"Top 10 are Verstappen, Perez, Leclerc, Sainz, Alonso, Russel, Daniel, Hamilton, you and Stroll."

"Redbull front row lockout," Daisy remarked, voice dripping with sarcasm "who could've seen that coming? But anyways, good job everyone – appreciate it."

As the hustle and bustle of parc ferme enveloped her, Daisy forced a small smile onto her lips, determined not to let her inner doubts be visible to the rest of the grid. She congratulated Daniel again with a small smile and exchanged nods with those around her, masking her disappointment behind a façade of confidence. Her mind was racing already in preparation for the following day as she still had something to prove. And if there was one thing that fuelled her, it was spite.

There was something so captivating about night races to Daisy. The way the stars and night sky provided such a dramatic backdrop for the spectacle of the race. Under the dazzling lights surrounding the circuit, Daisy was sitting in P9, practically jumping in her seat with anticipation for the race to start. While her qualifying hadn't exactly gone to plan Daisy still had her eyes set on the podium. Maybe it was a little unrealistic a goal considering how dominant the two redbulls had been in practice and the day before but she still hoped to bring back a result the team could be proud of.

As the lights slowly dimmed and the roar of twenty engines filled the air in synchrony, Daisy inhaled sharply to focus, her heart pounding so intensely she half expected it to rip through the pericardium and her ribs. A rush of adrenaline surged through every nerve of her body as she gunned the throttle, launching her car forward with precision and determination.

If she had to describe her driving style in one word, Daisy would say aggressive. Her ability to put pressure on other drivers and seize any open opportunities had shocked people in her debut race last year. It was something Daisy was rather proud of. They had seemingly expected her to be more gentle, hesitant even with competing - as if she were a doormat of a girl, and oh had she relished in being the exact opposite.

She could practically hear the commentary in her head as Max predictably took a quick lead but she wasn't going to get distracted by him. To make it a closer battle she'd have to somehow manage getting out of the mess that was the midfield. Her usual nonchalance was replaced by steely focus as she fought tooth and nail for every inch of tarmac.

Daisy had managed to make it out of the constant back and forth switching of positions she'd found herself trapped in towards the start as she finally gained some pace on Albon's Williams. Things were starting to work out smoothly for Daisy as Ocon was suddenly out of the race and there was now nobody left between her and Daniel.

Lap by lap Daisy found herself locked in an intense battle with her teammate. They were racing side by side along the straights of the circuit, both of them trying to pull ahead of the other coming out of a corner so they could leave them in the dust. She was half expecting an order to come over the radio telling her not to fight Daniel and to just let him have it because that had occurred a few times last year with Henry but to her surprise there was nothing.

Until Anja finally called for her to pit so they could send her back out on fresh tires. There was a decent gap between her and Alex so as long as the pitstop went smoothly she'd be able to get back out and re-join the race before he could overtake her in the standings.

With the race hanging in the balance, every second counted as Daisy navigated her way towards the pit lane. As she approached her designated pit box, Daisy braced herself for the flurry of activity that awaited her. The anticipation coiled in her stomach, a potent mix of excitement and nerves as she brought her car to a halt with pinpoint precision.

In an instant, her crew swarmed around her car like a well-oiled machine, their movements a blur of activity as they worked with surgical precision to execute the tire change. Swiftly removing the warm tires and switching them out for fresh wheels. Every movement was performed with a practiced ease that she had gotten familiar with over the past year.

Then once the tire change was complete and she was given the signal to go, Daisy revved her engine and shot out of the pit lane with renewed vigour. The fresh tires gripped the asphalt beneath her, propelling her forward with newfound speed and confidence as she re-joined the race.

Merging back into the racing line Daisy prepared herself for the challenges ahead. Asking Anja quickly "Gap to Dan?"

"1.2 Daisy, that's 1.2," Anja's voice replied on the other end, calm as always.

Despite her best efforts at warming her tires, closing the gap proved to be a daunting ordeal. Daniel's pace was relentless and he temporarily had the advantage of not being on fresh tires. The only thing keeping Daisy going was the fact that he still had to pit at some point and the end of the race was inching closer so her window of opportunity hadn't quite slipped from her grasp, not yet.

With determination burning bright in her eyes, Daisy threw caution to the wind and dialled up the aggression, pushing her Porsche to its absolute limit. Each corner became a calculated risk, each straight a chance to gain ground on her teammate.

But as the laps wore on, Daniel's tire degradation began to take its toll, his pace faltering ever so slightly as the wear on his tires became apparent. Sensing an opportunity, Daisy seized the moment, closing the gap with each passing lap as she hunted down her prey with unwavering focus.

Finally, with Daniel's pit stop looming on the horizon, Daisy made her move, diving deep into a corner and executing a daring overtake to claim the position ahead of her teammate. The crowd erupted into cheers as she completed the manoeuvre, her heart pounding with exhilaration as she surged ahead.

As Daniel peeled off into the pit lane for his long-awaited stop, Daisy pressed on, her sights set on the cars ahead. In the end it was Daisy who crossed the finish line first, Daniel hot on her heels after an even faster stop than her own. But she had done it! P7 was a respectable result and certainly nothing to scoff at, and the insecure part of herself was thrilled to have beaten her teammate even if it was by a tiny margin and only one position.

Daisy's face was alight with a mix of pure exhaustion and exhilaration as her mechanics helped her out of the car. Daniel hopping out right beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder as he whooped loudly. Stiffening momentarily at the unexpected contact, her instinctive reaction was to pull away from his embrace. But after a moments hesitation she relented and allowed herself to be drawn into a hug, not letting the reluctant smile past her cool facade.

"I guess the best driver did win," she hummed cheekily, glancing up at Daniel, calling back to their little jabs before qualifying

"Yeah...Max did win," Daniel retorted and that actually drew a grin from Daisy. Daniel's constant energy did mentally jade her a lot of the time but she really loved that he got her humour and was able to give it back to her as well.

"The rain cloud smiles," Daniel gasped, a vision of melodrama "I never thought I'd see the day."

"Yeah, yeah," Daisy was keen to brush it off and change the subject away from her "don't get used to it or you're going to be severely disappointed."

They stood amongst the sea of drivers crowded below the podium, observing Max hoist his trophy into the air and the Dutch national anthem rang out, for what was likely the first out of many times. Checo and Fernando to his sides.

Daisy couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude pass over her. In moments like these where she got to slow down she was always reminded of how lucky she was to be able to compete at this level and the support from her team. All she hoped now was that this season would be worthy of their admiration and unwavering support.

The Porsche team had a solid start. Both drivers finishing and ending in the points had set them up with a good, sturdy foundation. They just needed to keep building upon it every week. However good wasn't what Daisy was in formula 1 to achieve. As a girl, as the only girl it was all or nothing. Talent and potential was only so much to offer. It wasn't genius or winning and no amount of sponsors or decent results could make it so.

It was cutthroat but she had to win. Otherwise she was nothing. And Daisy Shaw was determined to make them all remember her name, whatever it took.

[acescorazon]

Title: Changes

Chapter: 11/?

Word count: 5875

Warnings: Crocodile, panic attacks, and Buggy's back to thinking his suicidal thoughts.

Chapter except:

Buggy has honestly never met a more infuriating man in his life. Crocodile is so cryptic and hard to please at times, and Buggy just… Whatever. He doesn’t care. He’d just be wasting his time if he gets annoyed by Crocodile. He finishes what little work he has left and then sighs in content afterwards, “Okay, i’m all done.” He announces to Crocodile who for some reason looks slightly disappointed…? Is that the right way to describe his face right now? It doesn’t matter, he asks Crocodile if there’s anything else he wants Buggy to do while he’s still around, and Crocodile shakes his head in response. “...No, that’s it…Thank you.” Thank you? Did Crocodile just say…

Buggy glances over at Crocodile, and he’s unsure of how he’s even supposed to respond at a time like this, “...What…?” He asks.

 

“....Thank you…” Crocodile repeats quietly. 

|Ch1|Ch2|Ch3|Ch4|Ch5|Ch6|Ch7|Ch8|Ch9|Ch10|

Contrary to popular belief, Buggy is actually a leader and has a crew of men to oversee. He can't afford to spend his entire day organizing and cleaning up Crocodile's mess from the past couple of weeks, and yet, that's the exact situation Buggy finds himself in. Instead of letting Buggy run his island like he should be doing right now, Crocodile keeps him holed up in the meeting room all morning and well into the afternoon. 

It's awkward and stressful, and Buggy hasn't been able to relax for even a minute. Every little move or sound Crocodile makes causes that feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach to grow worse, and every part of him is telling him to get the hell out of the meeting room, and fast before Crocodile’s mood can turn sour, and he ends up hurting him again. 

And yet, Buggy remains seated uncomfortably close to Crocodile. He wants to leave more than anything in this world, but he can’t muster up the courage to do so. They sit in silence for the most part, with the occasional sounds of Crocodile yawning or lighting up yet another cigar and exhaling deeply, but Buggy didn’t expect to chat and gossip all day with Crocodile. He’s actually glad things are somewhat still normal between the two. Crocodile seems less hostile, sure, but that’s probably because he’s just exhausted. 

It’s not enough for Buggy to simply put away all the documents and folders on the table, no, Crocodile wants things organized into three separate categories: Business plans, contracts, and intel, and anything else can be considered miscellaneous and can be properly organized later. On top of that, he wants all the documents in the boxes on the floor looked through and properly sorted as well, and he even wants all the boxes properly labeled. It’s a lot, and Buggy still doesn’t know how Crocodile managed to clutter up the meeting room in such a short amount of time, but he doesn’t question it, he simply gets to work, starting with organizing all of the data and information Crocodile has somehow managed to compile over the course of god knows how many days, weeks, months, or even years.

To make matters worse, occasionally Galdino stops by even though Crocodile said that Galdino had other important things to do and that he couldn’t get him to do his bullshit tasks for him instead, and whenever he does, he’s always overly nice, and extremely dedicated to Crocodile as always. He brings him frequent cups of coffee, but never offers Buggy anything, hell, he doesn’t even look in Buggy’s direction, and part of Buggy wants to call Galdino out again, but it’s pointless. 

So much for being friends.

It’s around three in the afternoon when Crocodile finally breaks the silence between them, “Hey… why don’t you go get lunch?” He suggests quietly. It’s a little late for lunch, but Buggy’s sure that he could get a couple of his men to fix him something up. He is a little hungry, and he’s so damn tired of looking at papers. He’s been organizing Crocodile’s crap all day, and he’s hardly made any progress, but he thinks he’s gotten at least the intel part of his filing done, or at least he hopes he does. Crocodile didn’t ask for any, but Buggy really thinks they need to invest in some file cabinets. He didn’t think they’d need any before, but after seeing just how many documents Crocodile has, he thinks they definitely need them now.

Buggy finally stands up again after sitting for hours and hours without hardly moving. His back hurts slightly, but he doesn’t dare complain to Crocodile, he just wants to get the hell out of here, and is about to do just that when Crocodile speaks up again, “And come back after lunch, okay?” He orders.

Jeez, can’t they just call it a day? Buggy still has other things he has to do, most of which are for Crocodile himself, he really doesn’t want to have to come back here and do more filing. He holds back a groan and gives Crocodile a small nod, “Sure thing…” He mutters, and after that, he makes his leave.

“Be back in thirty minutes, Cl… Buggy!” Crocodile calls out to him just before he can get too far away, and Buggy cringes slightly now that he’s out of Crocodile’s view.

Well, there goes his appetite.

 

This sucks. Thirty minutes isn’t enough time away from Crocodile. Usually, he only spends an hour, maybe two hours tops with Crocodile during meetings and afterwards he has all day to recover. Yet today he’s just supposed to stay all day with him or most of the day with him and only get a thirty-minute break to mentally recover? God, what did he do in his past life to deserve this? 

Buggy decides to skip lunch altogether. He hates to admit it, but Crocodile’s right. The crew have been living more or less off Sea King these past couple of weeks, and Buggy isn’t in the mood to have any today, or really eat in general anymore, so instead he takes a walk around the island in an attempt to clear his mind a little bit.

He greets and waves at various members of his crew as he walks by them, and every time he sees one of his men sitting around or goofing off, Buggy once again wonders why Crocodile couldn’t have one of them do his dirty work. Buggy’s sure, no, he’s positive that any one of his men would eagerly organize and file all of Crocodile’s important documents, but nooo, of course, Buggy has to be the one to do it.

It just doesn’t make any sense… But whatever. 

As he continues his little stroll, eventually he ends up running into Alvida, who grabs him by his elbow and pulls him to the side. “Hey! What was going on last night with you and Hawkeye?” She asks, and Buggy can see the curiosity shining brightly in her big brown eyes. She looks around before leaning forward and lowering her voice slightly, “Are you two… you know?” Are they what? Buggy thinks, frowning.  

“No, I don’t know. Just what exactly are you asking right now?”

“You know…”

“No, I don’t know!” 

Alvida sighs loudly. She looks around again, almost as if the two of them are discussing something they shouldn’t be right now before whispering to Buggy again, “Dating, or maybe hooking up?” she asks in a tiny voice, chuckling afterwards. “C’mon, you can tell me, I won’t tell a soul.” 

Buggy’s eyes damn near pop out of his skull and, despite his devil fruit powers, those are some of the only things that are supposed to remain attached to Buggy at all times. Buggy repeats the question in his head once, twice, and then a third time. Are he and Mihawk dating or hooking up…? 

Ew.

“No! Why would you even think that?!” Buggy screams horrified and slightly appalled at the mere suggestion of Buggy being romantically involved with Dracule Mihawk of all people. He loves Alvida dearly. She’s like a younger sister to him, really, but at this moment he just wants to throttle her. How in the hell could she possibly think that Mihawk and Buggy were an item?! 

“Buggy,” Alvida calls out. She places her hands on his shoulder and looks into his eyes, “You can tell me the truth, I won’t judge you.”

 

“Alvida. Look, I don’t know what you thought you saw, but–”

“I saw Mihawk making heart eyes at you, Buggy The Clown.”

The hell is she even talking about right now? Mihawk must have been with someone else named Buggy The Clown last night because he sure as hell wasn’t looking at him with heart eyes or anything like that. Not that Buggy was looking at Mihawk, though, because he tried to avoid eye contact with him at all costs, but he just knows Mihawk, he’d never be interested in Buggy like that. In fact, Buggy’s still surprised Mihawk wants to be his friend or whatever."

 

Buggy exhales a loud sigh of his own, “Vida, look me and Mihawk don’t have that kind of relationship, and you know it.” 

“I don’t know,”  Alvida replies, dragging her words out and sounding almost playful as she talks to Buggy, “You two look like you’ve made up quite a lot.” They haven’t. Buggy still hates the guy! He’s… he’s just tolerating him more or less at this point!  

Buggy shakes his head. He looks down and checks his watch, then groans when he sees what time it is. “Look, I don’t have time for this, i have to get back to the meeting room and help organize Crocodile’s mess.”

Alvida raises an eyebrow, “Why are you helping him?” She asks. What does she mean, why is he helping him? He has to! He’s in debt to him, and when Buggy explains that to her, she gives him another strange look, “...But Galdino and I offered to help him clean the meeting room up earlier, and he said he didn’t need any help, and told us to go away…” 

Huh? Buggy thinks, confused yet again, this time by the sudden revelation. “I don’t know, Alvida. He just called me in early this morning and told me to help him, so that’s what I’m doing. Look, I’ll talk to you later, okay?” He gives her a quick hug before hurrying back to the meeting room but swears he hears her mutter something along the lines of, “Hm…interesting.” while he’s still within hearing distance, but Buggy has no idea what that could even mean or if that’s what she actually said in the first place. 

If that’s what she actually said, what’s so interesting about Crocodile ordering Buggy to do some work? Crocodile’s been bossing him around since the moment he stepped foot on Emptee Bluffs Island, what’s different and interesting about that now? Whatever, Buggy doesn’t get it, and he definitely doesn’t get why she suddenly thinks Mihawk and him are seeing each other, but he doesn’t want to get any of it either. 

Buggy makes it back to the meeting room a little early and finds Crocodile resting his head down on the meeting room table, perhaps sleeping quietly. Buggy isn’t quite sure if the other man is asleep or not, but he hesitates for a moment, unsure if he should leave or if he should continue to work like Crocodile instructed him to. In the end, though, he decides to quietly turn back and just leave, but before he gets the chance to do so, he hears a deep voice call out to him from behind, “You’re back already?” Crocodile asks, sounding a little dazed.

Buggy spins around on his heels and forces a smile onto his face, “Yeah, I decided to come back a little early...” He tells Crocodile in a hushed voice, and then after that he quickly takes his seat at the meeting table again, still avoiding eye contact with the exhausted man. 

Crocodile slowly raises his head and runs his large hand over his face, “By the way, after you get done, can you ask Hawkeye to drop by and see me?” He asks. What the hell? Why can’t Crocodile just… Ugh, whatever. Buggy is just going to stop questioning Crocodile and focus on his work instead.

Buggy nods silently in response. He doesn’t ask any of the questions that are lingering in his mind, instead, he resumes his work from earlier, moving on to sorting through all of Crocodile’s business plans, and, boy, does he have a lot of them. He really thought this whole Cross Guild thing out, and it looks like Crocodile is serious about their little organization (not that Buggy ever doubted him.) and he has long-term plans for it for the next five, maybe even ten years.

God, will Buggy even be alive in five years? Maybe and the thought of having to spend the next five years with Crocodile is just… awful. He hates Cross Guild so much and finds himself once again regretting that he even borrowed money from Crocodile in the first place. Five years, maybe ten, or even twenty years of his life potentially down the drain all because he borrowed some money from Crocodile after the war. Man, he fucked up. 

The room falls silent yet again as Buggy tries to hurry up and get his work done for Crocodile, but it almost feels like Crocodile is actively making his workload grow. He constantly hands him more papers or documents that need to be put away, and Buggy is equal parts tired, frustrated, and overwhelmed. How is he supposed to get any work done around here?! And how is he supposed to do all those other things Crocodile wants him to do, if he can’t even finish this one extremely tedious task?! Also, is Buggy Crocodile’s damn secretary now? Because he feels like Galdino would be much better suited for the job... 

The hours slowly drag on and on, and on, but eventually dinner time approaches and Buggy finally gets the courage to look up at Crocodile, “Hey… Uh, can I finish the rest tomorrow?” He asks, hoping, praying, even that Crocodile won’t suddenly grow furious with him and lunge at him. He’s almost done sorting through all of Crocodile’s business plans and ideas for the future; ones that still include taking over various desert lands like stupid Prickly Pear Island, as well as various boats he wants designed, and hideouts he wants built for them.

Crocodile takes a moment to think before finally replying, “No... I need this done today, but you can take another break if you want.” Why does he need all this done today?! He has weeks, maybe even months of paperwork and plans cluttering up the meeting room, and he really expects Buggy to be able to get it all put away by tonight?! But why? Crocodile’s serious about this Cross Guild shit, and they’re going to be doing it for a very long time, so why does everything need to be organized and ready now?! 

“But…” 

“You’re almost done anyways, you might as well finish what you started.” Crocodile states simply without so much as looking up at Buggy. That’s… That’s beside the point! Buggy’s been stuck in this cramped meeting room that smells like Crocodile and his damn cigars for the past nine hours and it’s driving him crazy! Nine hours! He’s been here for nine hours and there’s still more crap to go through, it’s ridiculous! 

Buggy bites the inside of his cheek. He feels absolutely frustrated yet defeated right now and all he can do is sigh quietly, “Yeah… you’re right.” He agrees, or at least he pretends to agree with Crocodile. In reality, he’s so annoyed that Crocodile forced him to waste his day, but still, he doesn’t say anything to annoy or anger Crocodile. And he’s actually a little relieved when Crocodile dismisses him for dinner.

He no longer feels flashy or like a leader, and that’s all because of Crocodile. He feels like he’s at the bottom of the hierarchy when the truth of the matter is he’s at the very top, but you wouldn’t know that by the way Crocodile treats him. You’d think Crocodile was the ‘leader’ of Cross Guild and one of the four emperors, and not Buggy, but whatever, it doesn’t matter… It just sucks. Man, what the hell happened to him? 

Tonight Cabaji, Mohji, and of course, Richie, all join him for dinner as they sit in Buggy’s main tent and have supper, and as usual, Mohji and Cabaji are overly worried about Buggy. “How are you, captain?” Mohji whispers to Buggy, keeping his voice down, ”Is he being a dick to you again?” he asks. Well, Crocodile’s been a pain in the ass, but he hasn’t yelled or even threatened to beat the shit out of Buggy all day, so that has to count for something.  

Buggy shakes his head, stabbing at the asparagus on his plate with his fork. Truth be told, he’s feeling a little uninterested in the vegetable and even the meal in front of him, but like always, Cabaji and Mohji insist he eats a little because ‘he needs all the energy he can get to lead their great and powerful crew’ or something like that. “Nah, I think he’s tired or something, he hasn’t even really talked to me today.” He tells them, “We’ve just both been kinda doing our own thing…” 

Cabaji and Mohji both heave a sigh of relief, “Good, good.” Mohji replies, and Cabaji follows suit, “Good. That’s good, maybe he finally realized he should be a little nicer to you.” He suggests and a moment later everyone at the table laughs as they mock Crocodile in secrecy. That’s a funny idea. Crocodile? Finally, realizing that he’s done something wrong and being man enough to admit it and try to change his behavior? Yeah, that would be the day.

 “But just in case he starts getting impatient, do you want us to come help you out?” Mohji asks.

Buggy considers the thought briefly as he gives Richie the rest of his food and strokes his mane gently a few times. In the end, he shakes his head again, “Nah, I can handle it.” He insists. He could have used the help earlier, but at this point, he’s got a system and can handle his workload on his own. Plus, he doesn’t want to hear Crocodile bitch and moan about Cabaji and Mohji helping him out and saying something rude and snarky like: ‘What? You couldn’t file a couple of documents on your own? Fucking useless clown.’

Yeah, Buggy’s useless… Yeah, he knows. Maybe that’s actually why Crocodile wanted Buggy to do his organizing for him. Maybe this is all part of some convoluted scheme to get Buggy to mess up on a trivial task, so Crocodile can degrade him more and once again point out how useless Buggy is.

Buggy knows he’s useless though! He knows he’s useless and pathetic and unworthy of living… He doesn’t constantly have to be reminded of all that. He knows Crocodile has made sure to make that fact abundantly clear on several occasions. 

“Seriously, Captain… at least let us come sit with you while you work,” Mohji pleads, and Cabaji nods his head eagerly in agreement, “Yeah, even if we don’t do anything, we still want to be there with you in case something happens…” It’s a sweet gesture, and Buggy appreciates it, he really does, but he doesn’t want Cabaji and Mohji to have to witness how Crocodile treats Buggy, not that they don’t already know, but still. Nor does he like the idea of Crocodile getting angry and potentially taking his wrath out on one or both of them, even though Crocodile’s fury has more or less always been directed at Buggy and Buggy alone. He still wants to keep his men safe no matter what.

If someone’s going to take a beating or be humiliated and degraded, it should be Buggy, and Buggy only.

Buggy bids farewell to his beloved men a few minutes later. He gives Cabaji and Mohji both a tight hug and assures them that everything is okay and that they’re just anxious about nothing, and then gives Richie a couple of more pets before he heads back to the meeting room. As soon as he’s away from the others, though, his mood takes a turn for the worst. He feels like a complete failure of a captain. He can’t even comfort his men these days, and if he can’t even do that much anymore, then what good is he? He hates it. Crocodile is right. He’s a good-for-nothing coward who doesn’t deserve to liv– 

Okay, he needs to stop thinking about that. He doesn’t even know where all those thoughts came from, Crocodile’s hardly even said a word to him today, and yet… his words from the past are back, and tormenting Buggy for some reason. It’s annoying, he doesn’t want to have those thoughts and tries to force them away, but they just continue to resurface and cause Buggy more anguish. 

 Worthless coward who can’t do a goddamn thing. Pathetic Crybaby. You aren’t worth keeping around…

Buggy blinks and suddenly finds himself in the meeting room again after another break that goes by way too quickly for his liking, but he doesn’t even remember stepping inside. He shakes away all of his negative thoughts and has a seat at the meeting room table again. Okay, he can do this. He’s going to finish sorting Crocodile’s papers and then go straight to bed, and when he wakes up, he’s going to get started on all those other things Crocodile wanted him to do for him. He takes a deep breath and tries to settle his chaotic mind a little before he gets back to work. 

Stupid. Pathetic. Worthless.

“...How was dinner?” Crocodile asks, glancing up at him briefly before looking back down at whatever he’s been working on all day. He successfully startles Buggy out of his thoughts though, and for that Buggy’s kind of glad, Again with the small talk… he thinks, fighting back the urge to groan. There’s no way Crocodile cares how Buggy’s dinner went, so why is he even bothering to ask?! He doesn’t care about him. He hates him and wants him dead, and-– 

Still, Buggy gives him a quiet answer, “Fine…Thank you.” 

Crocodile looks back up at Buggy, almost seeming like he has something he wants to say, but he shakes his head instead and allows yet another awkward silence to fill the room. Buggy doesn’t question it, the less he has to talk to Crocodile, the better, and he gets back to work. He pretty much has everything sorted and even has all the boxes in the room stacked neatly on top of each other and separated by categories in different parts of the room.

He’s still not done though, but almost, and he’s trying to hang in there despite his constant discomfort while being By Crocodile’s side. Just a few more things, he just has to organize the rest of Crocodile’s junk that didn’t fit into the three specific categories Crocodile mentioned earlier, and that’s it. 

Crocodile once again speaks up a little while later while Buggy is going through a pile of what appears to be receipts for weapons that Cross Guild has purchased, “Uh, Buggy…” He calls out, and Buggy freezes for a moment, afraid that Crocodile will give him even more papers to sort through. He looks up and locks eyes with Crocodile, and Crocodile, yes, Crocodile, is the one who actually looks away first, “Never mind.” he mutters a moment later.

…Whatever. 

Buggy goes back to what he’s doing after that, only to have Crocodile disrupt him once again a few minutes later, “Look...There’s something I want to say,” He says, but as soon as Buggy looks up to acknowledge him, Crocodile clicks his tongue, “....Forget it.”

What the hell?!

For a moment Buggy is afraid that he’s doing something wrong and that Crocodile is going to start yelling at him, but that never happens. Instead, Crocodile looks away from him again and redirects his attention to the papers in front of him again.  It’s fine, it’s fine. Buggy’s made it this far, he can keep on going. There’s only a couple of more folders on the table that need to be put away. He can do it, and after this, he can say that he actually made it through a single day with Crocodile without getting his ass whipped … but then again, maybe he should shut up before he jinxes it. 

“Hey, um…” Crocodile mutters.

“...Yes?”

“Nothing.”

Buggy has honestly never met a more infuriating man in his life. Crocodile is so cryptic and hard to please at times, and Buggy just… Whatever. He doesn’t care. He’d just be wasting his time if he gets annoyed by Crocodile. He finishes what little work he has left and then sighs in contentment afterwards, “Okay, I’m all done.” He announces to Crocodile who for some reason looks slightly disappointed…? Is that the right way to describe his face right now? It doesn’t matter, he asks Crocodile if there’s anything else he wants Buggy to do while he’s still around, and Crocodile shakes his head in response. “...No, that’s it…Thank you.” Thank you? Did Crocodile just say…

Buggy glances over at Crocodile, and he’s unsure of how he’s even supposed to respond at a time like this, “...What…?” He asks.

 

“....Thank you…” Crocodile repeats quietly. 

It takes a while before Buggy can actually formulate a response. He’s so caught off guard by Crocodile’s sudden expression of gratitude that he… he just kind of short circuits. “I…” He looks at Crocodile and then down at his lap, “Uh… you’re welcome?” He replies, unsure if he’s still even living in the same dimension as before. Crocodile is actually thanking him for doing something for him, and It’s weird… Really weird. The comment didn’t sound rude or insincere, but there’s no way that Crocodile would genuinely thank Buggy for anything.  Maybe he really is dreaming right now because there’s no way an arrogant prick like Crocodile would ever be thanking him. He’s supposed to say something snarky… like… like, ‘Tsk, it took you long enough, clown…’ He’s not supposed to thank him. 

Buggy is worthless… He’s pathetic… He doesn’t know how to do anything… He…He fucks everything up, and it’s a damn shame that the World Government made someone like him one of the four emperors. He doesn’t deserve that title, he doesn’t deserve the fame and power he has. He doesn’t deserve anything, actually.

Again Buggy can’t help but wonder what changed…? Mihawk is one thing. Mihawk was there when Buggy was drunk and chewed him out, and he said after that little incident he regretted the way he treated Buggy… Buggy gets that… He’s still struggling with the truth and trying to see his feelings as genuine, but he gets it. Crocodile on the other hand… Why is he being like this?

Buggy doesn’t like this… He feels like there’s something he’s not getting or like there’s something he missed. Buggy’s been away from Crocodile for a couple of weeks, sure, but surely that’s not enough time for Crocodile to have a sudden change of heart … He feels like things are rapidly changing around him, but like he’s stuck in the same place. What changed? Why is Crocodile being nice now? Is this even him being nice? Is Buggy just so used to being mistreated that he doesn’t even know what true kindness looks like from Crocodile?! 

“Uh, I’m going to call it a night then,” Buggy announces, getting up from his chair and now extremely desperate to get far away from Crocodile so he can just sit down and think about all that’s been happening these last few weeks. Before he can leave the room though, Crocodile speaks up again, this time sounding like he’s in a bit of a rush, “Um, Buggy wait…!” He orders, and a moment later he finally says it. He says the one simple phrase that just makes something snap inside Buggy.

“Look… I’m sorry.”

He’s… Sorry…?

There’s a long pause as Buggy tries to process the words just said to him. He’s sorry… He said he’s sorry… He… He apologized to Buggy?!... He actually apologized to Buggy. When Buggy’s confused mind finally processes Crocodile’s words, all he can think is: Liar. Fucking liar. He’s not sorry, he can’t be sorry. Buggy knows Crocodile well enough to know that Crocodile has never regretted a single thing in his life. He’s sorry for turning Buggy’s life into a living hell? He’s sorry for scaring Buggy shitless and making him feel like his life is something that can easily be taken away? No. Nah. He’s not. He’s not sorry for that, nor is he sorry for beating or humiliating Buggy. He’s not sorry for making Buggy hate himself or his life and wanting to just end it all instead of having to deal with living another day with Crocodile. He’s not sorry, he’s just a goddamn liar. 

Buggy turns around, and he can feel tears running down his face, but doesn’t care.  His brain isn’t working anymore, it stopped working the moment Crocodile had the nerve to apologize to Buggy. He’s probably not even being genuine in the first place, but that doesn’t matter. Liar, liar, liar. Crocodile is such a liar, and Buggy can’t stand it. He hates liars. He’d rather Crocodile be blatantly cruel to him and constantly insult him than pretend to be nice to him and pretend that he cares or that he’s regretful for everything he’s put Buggy through. 

If Buggy were in the right state of mind, he’d tell himself to take a deep breath and calm down. This is the break he needed. He could accept Crocodile’s apology, he could come up with some bullshit response, he could do anything that would assure his safety, but Buggy just…He can’t think properly anymore. His heart is pounding at an alarming rate, and he feels like none of this is real.

It can’t be real, it just can’t be. 

His mouth moves on its own, “Liar.” He says, and Crocodile looks taken aback by the insult, but Buggy keeps going. “Liar, you aren’t sorry.” he tells him, “You can’t be sorry. You’re just fucking with me again.” And as he speaks, the volume of his voice begins to rise, “You’re lying to me.”

“I’m n–”

“Stop fucking lying to me!” Buggy yells. This has to be some cruel joke. Crocodile isn’t sorry, and yet said man starts to argue back with Buggy, but why? They both know he’s nothing but a liar! Why is he even trying to defend himself right now?! Crocodile clicks his tongue, “Will you fucking listen to m–” No! Why should Buggy listen to him?! 

“Fucking let me talk!” Crocodile snaps, red in the face now, as he starts angrily yelling back at Buggy. No! Buggy doesn’t want to hear it. He doesn’t care what Crocodile has to say. He’s lying and even if he weren’t, Buggy would never, ever forgive him. He’s horrible, absolutely horrible, and Buggy has never hated anyone more than he hates Crocodile. “Hawkeye was right!” Crocodile says, still trying to get one phrase in without Buggy interrupting him and calling him a liar. “I fucked up, i shouldn’t have treated you like that. I’m fucking sorry, okay?”

“Liar!” “I’m not lying, okay?! I want us to start over again for the sake of Cross Guild.”

“Fuck Cross Guild!” Oh, words can’t even explain how good it felt to finally say those words. Crocodile and this stupid organization are a bane to Buggy’s existence. He hates them both, and he just wishes he were free of them. He doesn’t care anymore! Crocodile can sell him off or kill him, anything would be better than dealing with this asshole. He’s the absolute worst!

For some reason, Crocodile still tries to insist that he wants to make up with Buggy, though, “No, listen. Just listen to me, I agree with Mihawk, we should treat each other with respect and as equa–” 

“Oh, so you’re just saying this shit because Mihawk told you to?!”

“No! Why would i–”  

“You aren’t sorry. All you’ve ever done is made my life miserable and threatened to kill me over and over again, and I hate you.” 

Crocodile once again looks a little stunned by Buggy’s words. Why’s he acting like this is anything new or as if his good name is being dragged through the mud? It’s the truth! He’s said and done so many things to Buggy, and if Buggy needs to he can list every single thing he’s ever done to hurt him. He. Fucking. Hates. Him. Liar, liar, liar! What a liar! 

Crocodile grits his teeth and throws his hands in the air, “You know what? Whatever, I’m not fucking sorry then.” Yeah, Buggy knows! He fucking knows Crocodile isn’t sorry and that he’s just spouting a bunch of lies and nonsense to Buggy! “Just leave. Forget I fucking said anything. This was stupid and fucking pointless.” Crocodile yells. 

Yeah, it really was. Buggy has so much more he wants to say, but he doesn’t. Instead, he turns around and rushes out of the meeting room and past several people he didn’t know were even around. Galdino, Alvida, Cabaji, and Mohji all watch in confusion and horror as Buggy storms past them, crying again.  

“Captain…” Cabaji calls out… or maybe it’s Mohji, Buggy doesn’t know, all he knows is he’s ordering whoever’s talking to him to stay back and just leave him alone. He can’t take this anymore. He hurries back to his bedroom, feeling honestly sick to his stomach, and he knows that it’s his own fault for getting himself worked up, but still. He sits down and tries to calm down a little, but as the moments go by he suddenly realizes what he’s just done and who he was talking to and feels so much worse. 

He can’t stop crying. His face is covered with snot and tears, and no matter how much he tries to calm himself down, he just can’t. He tells himself that he’s alright and that he’s going to be okay. But he’s not. Nothing is okay, and they haven’t been since Crocodile and Mihawk came to Emptee Bluffs Island. 

He wonders what happened to doing what was right for him. What happened to ensuring his own comfort and making sure the beatings and insults from Crocodile and Mihawk stopped? He’s so stupid. So, so stupid. In one night he managed to somehow make everything worse, and it’s all because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. All he had to do was shut up and accept Crocodile’s apology. That’s all he had to do and yet…

He ruined everything.’

His throat feels so tight and it’s getting harder and harder to breathe. He hates this. What did he do to deserve all this? Why did things have to get this bad in the first place? Why can’t he do anything right? Why does he always fuck things up?! Why does Crocodile hate him so much?! He can’t do this. He can’t do this.

What if Crocodile tells Mihawk what happened? What if Mihawk thinks that Buggy is a stuck-up prick and changes his mind and decides that he’s going to go back on his word? What if they start their torment again? What if they beat him within an inch of his life daily? What if they continue to insult Buggy and make him feel lower than a worm at the bottom of the earth? Buggy can’t do this He can’t let things continue. He can’t let them get worse. He’d rather… 

He’d rather die. 

((A/N: LOL. MERRY CHRISTMAS HERE'S A CLIFF HANGER!!!!))

[lifewithdavefarts]

DaveFarts - Episode 28 “Ass Kisser, Ass Sniffer” [Episode List] Thanks to Dave and his farting skills, a certain ass-kisser learns the hard way that some asses can be quite dangerous.

POV: Dave

Ass Kisser, Ass Sniffer

It was late night, around 2:30 AM.

I parked the car in the middle of a big parking lot just out of town, lots of trees and bushes hiding the whole place from the busier streets only a few blocks from us. I admit I felt a bit nervous for a moment, but overall I was quite confident everything’s was gonna go according to plan. 

A co-worker from Dana (my girlfriend)’s law firm, a 30-something guy, is being, well, kind of a big asshole and, ironically enough, a big kiss ass too.

Now, I know my girl can fight her own battles, but I kind of had to step in once we found out that this guy was a slicker, selling confidential data to other law firms, basically hijacking every case for money. Also, he’s being a nuisance to Dana and other co-workers, going as far as framing them (including her) for whatever scam (or other bullshit) he was doing.

I’m not a vigilante nor I like the idea of being one, but come on, this guy needs to be taught a lesson. And since he always gets away with everything because he’s an ass-kisser, well… I thought it’d be fun giving him a fitting punishment.

Yes, I’m going there. You know what I’m talking about.

And you know what I’m capable of.

Also, I’m aware this is a very stupid and irresponsible thing to do… so it’s fun, right?

“He should be here any minute now.” I said, hands on the steering wheel.

I was wearing a black face-mask to hide most of my, well, face, the cold dark night hiding the rest of me. 

In the last couple of days I’ve been messaging with this wannabe criminal, pretending to be someone interested in buying confidential data. Not rocket science, and this guy wasn’t a criminal mastermind… like he addressed himself as multiple times.

Seriously.

“Really, Dana? This is the guy?” I remember asking her a couple of days ago, with my girlfriend being as confused as me about how much of a kiss ass you need to be to even look like a competent person in front of your boss and co-workers.

“He’s an idiot!”

But now I’m here, waiting in my freezing car (I really need to fix the damn A/C) for this man to show up so I can properly give him a lesson.

You all know that I’m very good at this and I’m quite confident myself about my skills; still, I wanted to throw in some extra fuel, so I had some chips and a very tasty, spicy taco… which I actually needed ‘cause I was starving.

What’s nice about my talent is that my farts are not as big as they are because I have a weak stomach. On the contrary, they’re as huge as they come because I have a very strong one.

Your belly hurts after eating at BellTaco? Sucks to be you, because I don’t know what that is: it all gets nicely converted to gas, dry powerful gas that I can effortlessly get rid of as if I’m breathing (from my ass… ok, you get the idea). 

Then yes, I will take a good shit after a while, I too am a human, but we’re not here for that.

All you need to know is that whenever I face-fart my bro Tim, as disgusting as that is, I’m actually impressed by how he’s able to endure it. Not all my farts smell horrible, I’d say that I can roar very loudly… without biting too much, or not as much as you might expect, especially considering that I can fart like crazy even without any “fuel”.

But when they do smell, unless you’re as strong as Tim, you’re not gonna survive them. 

I won’t even need to face-fart you directly: my farts have a quite wide, high DPS AOE.

And to be honest, that’s what the food I ate is for: flavor. 

Yes, that’s a sentence I just said.

I can always rip long, loud and big ones, and while they do smell… they’re easy to endure. But throw some beer or some junk food into the mix, then you’re up for a good time.

And again, unless you’re Tim, with “good time” I mean “your nostrils will burn.”

“Here’s our guy.” I whispered, my eyes glued on the figure approaching the car.

I signaled the man with the car’s headlights and he responded with a quick gesture.

He quickly got into the vehicle and looked at me, looking serious… but not serious on purpose: it’s as if he was trying his best to play the part of a shady businessman.

“Are you… Scorpion?” 

I almost laughed like an idiot.

Yes, I actually used a code-name and I knew it was silly, but I wasn’t ready for how ridiculous that was gonna sound during the meet up. Thankfully, the face-mask successfully hid my cheesy grin, so my eyes could (tentatively) do the serious talk. To avoid any further risk, I simply nodded.

“Good.” he said. Then he proudly patted his chest. “I’m Dura Lex”.

I started coughing, a deft way to hide the fact that I was now laughing. What the fuck did I get myself into? Who’s this guy?!

“Are you okay, Scorpion?”

Somehow that didn’t kill me and I managed to get myself together, fully aware that I was looking and sounding as ridiculous as him anyway.

“Sure.” I simply replied.

“That’s a good meeting spot. The darkness shall hide our deeds.”

Please, stop talking like this.

“I got the documents, if you’re still interested.” he pulled out of his jacket a folder and handed it to me.

“You can keep it… Dura Lex.” I had to pause for a few seconds, and not for dramatic effect. “For now.”

“Come on man, my ass is freezing.” he lamented, in a more nasal voice than before.

This guy’s “shady criminal mastermind” facade sure wore off quite quickly.

“You’re freezing, Dura Lex?” I asked. “Do you want me to… heat things up?”

I went for “tough guy”, but I’m pretty sure that sounded “unnecessary flirty” instead.

“Get to the point, Scorpion!”

You only had to ask. 

Eyes glued on him, my right hand on the steering wheel, as if nothing weird was happening, I broke the silence by producing a muffled, rumbly sound with my ass. I was wearing a pair of jeans, but no clothes can stop my gas from reaching your nose.

“Are you…?” 

The man was baffled, confused, surprised. Truth to be told, I can understand that.

I can’t blame him… but I will blow him… err… blow him away with my farts I mea- never mind, you get it.

The fart was warming my seat up and my face mask protected me from my own stench (which I was immune to anyway). I still had my eyes glued on Dura Loser or whatever his codename was, waiting for a reaction, which showed soon.

A disgusted facial expression appeared on his face. “Oh m-my God.” he stuttered, he coughed.

I leaned a bit to ease the fart out, and it got louder.

“What’s happening, Dura Lex? Something bothering you?” I said, pretending nothing weird was happening, almost yelling, so he could hear me over my loud fart.

“You’re a sick person, Scorpion. I’m outta here.” 

My first blast ended after like 6 seconds. It was loud, airy, disgusting… and it was burning my asshole a bit. Spicy food tends to do that, but that also makes the stench more nauseating.

The man was trying to hold his breath already as he tried to open the door, but it was locked.

“Open this damn door!” he asked. Or rather, he begged.

“What?! Leaving so soon?” I replied, the mask hiding my smirk. “I thought a professional ass kisser like you would love this!”

I ripped another loud, quick rip, leaning a bit more, so he could hear it clearly. A taste (or a threat) of what’s to come in a few minutes.

“Would you please stop with those damn toots?!” he screamed. Never seen a person so terrified of my farts.

Also, that was very offensive. Dude, I'm barely getting started! I carefully stretched my right arm towards him, my hand now firmly holding his mostly bald head.

“You thought those were toots, Dura Lex?” I firmly asked. 

Now he was the one nodding.

“My bad!” I slowly pulled his head towards my ass. I leaned a bit more so I could more easily plant this man’s face where he belongs. “Allow me to fix that with the next one.”

The man tried to resist but my grip was strong enough to keep his nose as close as it needed be, right into my ass, which started to roar as soon as I finished talking.

A loud, deafening fart instantly hot-boxed the entire car. 

“Oh my God!” he screamed, retching over the stench that burned his nostrils. “Let me go you asshole!”

I could barely hear him over my fart. “Yes, that’s where this is all coming from! Of course a kiss ass like you would know!” and I pulled him even closer to my denim-clad anus.

Tim usually just stays there and takes it, because of his fart kink, but I was struggling keeping this man where he belongs, as I kept farting right onto his face. 

After 12 seconds, my blast finally ended.

Actually, it stopped ‘cause I wanted to. I wasn’t done.

“So, Dura Lex…” I started talking, pulling his face up, out of my ass, so I could look at him properly. “What were you exactly gonna do with those confidential documents?” 

The man looked more confused than nauseated. “What are you talking about?”

“Wrong answer. Enjoy kissing my ass.”

I pushed him down again and I immediately resumed farting, the blast being even louder than before, as if the fart itself was mad it got interrupted. 8 more seconds of pure flatulence Hell, as I could tell because the stench was now so strong it even got past my mask.

I once again pulled the idiot up, who at this point simply accepted that he was basically my puppet as he stopped fighting back, probably startled by my gas too.

“So, I’m gonna ask again: what’s up with those confidential documents?”

Dura Lex shook his head. “Kiss my ass, Scorpion!” he managed to reply.

“I don’t think you’re in the position to say that.” I replied. "Like, at all."

And again his face was planted into my warm ass, which I made sure it was sagging, his nose rubbing on my denim and my blue underwear, which only made the stench more unbearable for him.

“Well, now you’re in the position to say that.”

I ripped another loud fart, which was greeted with more retching from my newest victim. As much as the small space of the car let me, I tried to stretch me left leg up, easing the fart out, and also because so I could more easily glue this man’s face into my cruel, farting ass.

The spicy junk food I ate earlier turned my anus into a fire-breathing gas weapon. I gotta say, I’m surprised this man hasn’t passed out yet because even the car windows are fogging up. 

I wasn’t instead surprised at all by how big my farts were instead. I told you I’m good at this.

It kept going strong, as if Lex’s face wasn’t even there. I gotta say: he may be a jerk, but he was taking it like a champ… if we don’t count all the annoying whining at least.

“What the fuck!” he tried to get away one more time, but I kept his face down there, where it belonged, so he could breathe all of my gas in.

14 seconds and the fart finally started to lose power. For him it must have felt like hours.

Again we did our little “dance”, with me pulling his head up to question him.

“Just tell me what I wanna hear, Lex.” I said, with an evil smirk he couldn’t see because of my mask.

“I’m not talking.” he replied.

“That’s wise. You shouldn’t speak when your mouth is full.” 

I pushed him down again, firmly planting his nose between my asscheeks, only a thin layer of clothes protecting his nose and mouth from the deep burning Hell that my asshole was becoming. I ripped another fart, as loud as the previous one, but much shorter.

Indeed, a very loud toot, 2 seconds long.

Still holding his head still, I spoke to him.

“Say it!”

“No! I'm not gonna say any-”

Another fart silenced him.

“Say it!” I insisted.

“Never!”

“Congratulations then! You just found one ass you’d never wanna kiss!”

Another loud, long blast followed and rumbled all over this man’s face. I could do this all night: I knew I had gas to spare. He was gonna break soon.

I made his nose rub on my sagging clothes so much so that it lowered my underwear as well, so the jerk's nose was in direct contact with my bare asscrack, right as I kept blasting him, basically wiping my ass on his face, the stench of my gas being mercilessly shoved down his throat.

15 more seconds of loud noises, a loud chainsaw-like sound making the entire car shake. Then, finally, silence again.

“Just say it, you bitch.”

“Fine!” he whined.

I pulled him up, his face sweaty and as smelly as my ass.

“I’m selling confidential documents.” 

“And?” I threatened him by pushing him towards my ass again.

“And I’m making sure my co-workers get blamed for it.”

“Clever bitch.” I replied, satisfied with the answer.

I vehemently pushed him back on the passenger seat, his back hitting the door on his side of the car. 

“Did you get that, bro?” I said, looking behind me, towards the back seats.

My friend Tim, who was lying back there the whole time, hidden under a black sheet, revealed himself. To keep his face unseen, he chose to wear a lobster mask which, to be honest, looked unnecessarily terrifying. 

“Got every word, chief!” he said, holding his smartphone up, which he used to record everything.

I stared back at the man, with a smug, satisfied look.

“Fuck off. Both of you!” he yelled, pointing at us.

“Hey. Manners!” I said, as annoyingly as I could.

“Fuck you!” 

Alright. One final lesson.

“Do you know why they call me Scorpion?”

“What?”

I once again reached for his head.

“Come here!” I shouted, in the deepest voice I could make.

I pulled his face down and the moment his nose touched my ass, I blasted him with another loud rip, or ‘toot’ as he dared to call them.

It was short (for my standards at least, about 5 seconds), but dense and stinky. My asshole was burning.

Once I was done shitting gas, I shoved him back to his place.

“So…?” I asked.

“I’m… I’m just gonna leave.”

I unlocked the car doors so he could get the fuck out of my car.

“You ruined me, you… you gassy, sicko monster!” he yelled. “I’m gonna lose my job and my damn money you bastard!”.

“Aw…” I said, mockingly slapping his cheek. “You’re a criminal mastermind, Dura Lex, you’ll figure it out.”

Both me and Tim laughed at him and he left, taking the documents with him.

After a few minutes, once we made sure Lex left for good, my bro Tim got on the passenger seat next to him.

“That was incredibly stupid and irresponsible.” he commented.

“Awesome, right?” I replied, even though he was right.

“Totally.” he admitted.

We removed our ridiculous masks and I drove the two of us back home. I rolled the windows down ‘cause even though my bro had a fart kink… even him couldn’t handle the stench I produced.

“Come here? Really?” Tim asked, all of the sudden.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t get the reference.” I said.

“I did, that’s why I’m cringing hard.” he joked.

“Oh I know you’re hard.” I teased him.

He just remained silent, which I found hilarious as usual.

“Don’t worry bro: you’re still my favourite fart victim.” I teased him again, like the annoying bastard I am.

Tim laughed a bit, shaking his head, as if he was still in disbelief about me being so chill about his kink.

“I guess you just love destroying my nostrils then.” 

I winked at him in response, a smug smirk drawn on my face.  I leaned towards him and whispered:

“Clever bitch.” 

The End

[waitingforsecretsouls]

Traumerei & Zahard (Pt. 1)

(Tower of God #580)

We're far enough along in Traumerei's character and the depiction of his relationships to other Family Heads now that I feel confident in trying to analyze them a little more in depth, beyond meme edits or brief speculations in the tags of said memes, with a focus on doing this mainly in comparison and contrast to his relationship to Zahard as this posts main focus, highlighted as his most prominent and defining one from well before Traumerei's actual introduction.

Warning: This will include spoilers up to roughly #638 of the Tower of God Webtoon, and in part draw on SIU's blogposts of published chapters of the Hidden Floor arc. Under the cut for length.

My Thesis Statement: The defining aspect of Zahard and Traumerei's relationship, built on a basis of genuine comradery and mutual support between the two, shows Zahard as the only Great Warrior so far who actually expects things from Traumerei (or to paraphrase, who, in however limited a form you want to argue, places his faith in him). We see Zahard confide in him, console him, and entrust vital tasks to him, to the exclusion of all their other comrades; not only as the first comrade Zahard turns to in the present day story (in what's Outside Zahard's technical debut), but also a long way back in the past, before the first war with F.U.G. even broke out.

I'll try to structure this into three segments (and going by the likely amount of screenshots, probably a reblog chain rather than one self - contained post as I had hoped):

Zahard and the Family Heads

Traumerei and the Family Heads

Zahard and Traumerei

1. Zahard and the Family Heads

The first thing I'm going to argue for this purpose is Zahard's sentiments towards his old Irregular companions. Contrary to what seems like a popular opinion in fandom, that the present day Zahard views them as means to an end exclusively, devoid of any kind of positive or emotional sentiment at all, I actually think it's the opposite, and that he would have a far easier time, strategically speaking, if he did view them in this indifferent manner.

1.1 Zahard and Self

I feel like the origin of this perspective of Zahard as a purely cold, ruthless and calculating mastermind stems from his treatment of the Hidden Floor, where he collaborated with his data to first segregate the data of the Great Warriors into the hidden hidden floor, and then delete them.

My main argument against the validity of this would be, first of all, that the recorded data of their past selfs are very much not equivalent to their Outside, real selves, and that it would be perfectly natural for Outside Zahard to not hold the same feelings for them as their "real" versions.

Secondly, I feel like people really overplay the extent to which Zahard manipulated his data self in this: Yes, we have Zahard sport a malicious grin when he reveals data Zahard's ignorance of events on the Outside, and declares him as a "poor thing", "a fake me":

(Tower of God #386)

However, what this scene itself confirms it that 1) data Zahard likely only got forcibly edited (and only regarding these specific memories) when Bam asked him about Arlene, since "their names" is unlikely to refer to Edahn, with whom he converses perfectly fine and in a familiar manner and thus likely to refer exclusively to Arlene and V, who were erased from offcial history on the Outside as well (and whom Zahard likely sometimes wishes he could edit out of his own memories as easily as in data Zahard's case).

This is basically all but confirmed in the beginning of #368:

and 2), that Zahard has a rather nostalgic side, considering that he harboured the wish to leave the remnant of his young and optimistic self in the world in any form at all.

We also get from data Zahard himself that he helped Outside Zahard of his own volition, in a scene that's arguably centered around the Outside Zahard's strong emotions:

(Tower of God #387)

The emotions in said case being "anxiety" and fear, but still ultimately serving to demonstrate that Zahard is far from limited to the stoic and ice - cold killer we saw in his words to and subsequent treatment of Bam immediately prior, something concluded in his decision to honor his young self's wish for Bam to reawaken his passion as he did for said data self, despite the fact that said data was already in the irrevocable process of being erased from existence, lacking crucial information about Bam and his current Outside self.

(Tower of God #388)

(Note that this is AFTER Zahard noted "That really is a power that desires the abilities of God" about the Second Thorn Fragment, about whose origin and purpose he would know, as well as a multitude of potentials regarding Bam's origin and "fate". That is not the kind of choice someone robotically calculating the best possible outcomes and most ruthless way to get there would make, much less at the prompting of a soon to be deleted "fake me" he truly held either nothing but contempt or no emotional connection to at all, one he might easily have deleted outright).

Also, I didn't quite know where to bring it up, but I'll also mention that there is no immediate correlation between the data of the Great Warriors entering the "Hidden Hidden Floor" and being automatically deleted. As data Edahn reveals, they were tired of their existence as data, and followed Zahard knowing there might have been something fishy about his mirror from his Outside self. For all we know, they might have been deleted upon explicit request, similar to the data of Yura's and Hwang's bodies mother, somewhat detracting from data and Outside Zahard as ruthless killers and deceivers in that particular matter:

(Tower of God #386)

But all of this has been very centered around Zahard and his interactions with his own past self, so when am I going to get to his relationships to the other Family Heads?

Well, this segment was important in and of itself for getting there, demonstrating that Outside Zahard is not an unfeeling robot but actually fairly sentimental, and will alter his course based on the considerations of people close to him whom he respects (even in ways that are arguably highly disadvantageous to his own continued well-being), even if in this instance said person was a version of himself, which still serves its own purpose of demonstrating a senitmentality regarding his younger days, back when he and his comrades where comparatively unburdened and driven young adults climbing the Tower together.

1. 2 Zahard and the Family Heads

(Blogpost Season 2 Episode 292)

In light of the abovementioned arguments, I don't think Zahard purposefully sawed of all connections to his old comrades because he no longer cared about them, but rather that he still values these relationshop above nearly everything else, and distanced himself because he though that was what was his duty as their leader and a "KIng", about which he developed something of a complex, in case you didn't notice.

Introduced in his data self of course (I promise, we'll leave the Hidden Floor after this one):

(Tower of God #365)

This mindset smells of Outside Zahard, and comes specifically after Bam mentions Arlene's name, which we have establish to have been one of the primary "triggers" installed into data Zahard. I also feel like the following "What do I look like to you now? A human being? Or a monster?" might reveal another sad aspect of Zahard's current self-image/conception, but I' ll have to restrain myself with the images if I want to be able to at least conclude the Zahard and Family Heads portion in this posts image limit).

In another form, we get this in Traumerei's (but truly, Enkidu's and Gustang's) recent flashback arc, specifically #618:

But since I'll have to save many of these more recent points for Traumerei's portion of the post lest I needlessly repeat myself, I think it's enough to conclude this with the observation that at least part of what drove Zahard to change his mindset and become the solitary figure he is in the present day story was a feeling of responsibilty, acting according to their stations, soaring far above anyone else in the Tower, an expectation he extended to his comrades.

As Kallavan said, With Great Power comes Great Responsibility, and all that:

(Tower of God #477)

And we do see Zahard explicitly consider the Family Heads in the big decisions/doesn't simply overrule them, such as involving Bam:

(Tower of God #539)

We as readers know that Zahard and Traumerei had their private conversation prior to the Nest that probably truly determined what happened wrt Bam, but if anything this just strengthens my point, since Zahard explicitly allowed Traumerei to do as he wished.

(Tower of God #551)

(The reason I included the panel with Zahard's reaction is that I find it very interesting and important to the point I'm making. I don't have a conclusive opinion, but to me he appears almost taken aback by Traumerei's answer. Because remember, Traumerei's answer here is his reveal of the "condition" under which he'd take up Zahard's proxy war against the Poe Bideau family. That's quite a selfless "condition", or at the least purpose for said condition, to place, so I might well imagine that Zahard was taken aback by the lengths Traumerei would go to, specifically for him. Even in a more cynical reading, this is still Zahard allowing Traumerei to recruit himself a second Irregular into his family (the one he may know is considered as destined to kill him) and therefore also showing a certain degree of trust wrt that. But more on their relationship in particular in the eventual concluding part of this post)

Last but not least (arguably the opposite), we also have what may be the implication of Zahard as the one who gave the Great Warriors access to their famous Imortality Contracts, or at the very least having done something to make Traumerei regard him as the main cause behind their current positions and perpetual longevity of said positions:

"From the moment we got to the top, the only choice we had was to fall or not. But Zahard has given us a way to avoid falling forever. Only now that we have defied the laws of the Tower have we become beings who will never fall."

(Traumerei, Tower of God #632)

So while I'll certainly agree that we don't have many direct interactions between Zahard and the Family Heads, he does leave them free room to act with the only stipulation basically not to declare war on him, and doesn't brute force his own choices over theirs. He is very lenient (so far) even in regards to the Family Head who has broken this one rule, and has shown considerable respect for Traumerei's opinions and plans. Furthermore, he may well have ensured or enabled the Family Heads current hax, for which I would find it difficult to see another reason than wanting to keep them with him.

While there is a very interesting conversation to be had about Zahard and Gustang (and whether Zahard was aware of Gustang's preservation of the Thorn and Floor of Death all the way back or not), it's worth pointing out that Zahard's order to destroy Gustang's family (something we now know Gustang himself desires) only occured as part of his three orders, and Gustang himself is not targeted by default.

Basically, I haven't seen anything so far that convinced me of the "Zahard doesn't care about the Family Heads anymore" stance.

And with that out of the way, I'll move on to Traumerei's relationships to the other Family Heads depicted so far (who thankfully does have some more actual interactions with them).

(And again, a point I didn't know where else to fit in in which only occured to me towards the end of this post: I do think it's noteworthy that Outside Zahard does adress data Edahn as a avalid representation of Outside Edahn, to the point of not considering that he may hold differing sentiments from Outside Edahn wrt his relationship with data Zahard. Which goes against one of my first points, that Zahard may have drawn a sharp line between the datas and Outside selves, but supports my main points even better:

(Tower of God #386))

[rgr-pop]

sommmme support staff are mad that student employees are getting raises that they think are excessive, but most of them don’t work with student staff or write job descriptions like I do, so I figured I would round up the data on actually existing student staff wages, to illustrate that most student stuff remain at the lowest end of the scale, meaning that I needed to take the time to actually go through the job descriptions this afternoon, which was useful because I am working on writing a job description for a new archives student assistant position, etc., it’s a fight every day to get the college to pay my students enough to say yes to this job much less “support themselves,” mine are about to break $13.60 ($14.90 for technical services and that’s my aim in the archives). almost all students on campus—I mean all I knew of personally— make and will continue to make less than $15/ hour, but there are some mostly mythic level III students about to make $16.50 an hour and when certain staff see that in the board report (board sets student wages independent of bargaining) they are not happy based on a moral truth in their hearts which is that some people should never make more than they made in 1997, especially not people with more education and skills than they had in 1997, “students” (derogatory). so I figured I would show them that almost no students on campus actually have level III positions, to calm them and release the union from this insanely bad energy. the only level III student employee positions I knew of were students programmers, and other similar specialized/tech related positions that look more like internships. the level III student employee is mythic on campus— everyone points to their wages in the board reports to crusade against whatever, or in my case we write job descriptions hoping someday we’ll hit the magic word, etc. but I don’t know anyone who works with a level III student employee. not worth getting into the arguments about how to bargain around the student employee wages which I think are straightforward and also stupid, but there is also a folk paranoia that a support staff member or administrator lol could someday find themselves making more money hourly than a student employee whose work they direct , which actually isn’t as insane as it sounds because you know how administration could be unwilling to give easy things to union workers on principle, especially part time workers, and our students are (unfortunately but as is typical) not union, and I was hired in as a supervisor (directing not legal) at like $12/hr. so anyway I gather all the job descriptions and discover that contrary to what HR has been communicating to me, someone who works with student employees and on student employee job descriptions, two or three student staff positions have recently been added as level III, which is bureaucratically annoying but imo chill, except that I can’t actually deliver this information bc when these people see that there are potentially 3 student employees in the DEI office who could make as much as $16.50 an hour.. well

[oceans-on-mars]

Below you can find my attempt at a fanfic - a Lieutenant Lopez character study / analysis.

Please note:

English is not my native language.

I am not much of a writer.

The fic is pretty dark towards the end.

Rating: Mature

Actually, I would have preferred someone who IS much of a writer to write something like that, but no luck. So, here we are.

Sixty Minutes to Eternity

Lieutenant Lopez of the MCRN was considered to be extremely selfless – even for Martian standards. And that was saying something. Which also had the side effect that he had little interest in material possessions. Greed – that "more, more, more“ attitude of most Earthers (and unfortunately a considerable amount of Martians as well) and their shallow strive for material gain was absolutely foreign to him.

There was one item, though, that meant so much to him that he brought it on every assignment. So of course he had it in his quarters on the Donnager.

An item that most Earthers would have regarded as not much more than trash.

A simple glass bottle with water from the Pacific Ocean. His great uncle gave it to him on his 12th birthday.

Not too many people had seen the bottle, mostly just the people who would address him by his first name. Most of them were amused when they were told the backstory (usually several times - if they wanted or not). Well, the harsh interrogator DOES have a different side. Who would have thought? While all Martians were united in the dream of a terraformed Mars, Lopez certainly took it a step further.

---

He attached the last piece of armor plate to his combat suit and put the data stick Captain Yao had given him in the designated slot of his chest armor.

While doing so he had to wonder once again why the Martian Light Armor featured TWO slots to store data sticks while there was no way to attach at least ONE grenade or extra magazine. In basic training he was shown footage of 21st Century ground combat – the soldiers in these videos had a ton of extra ammo, gear and whatnot strapped to their tactical vests and belts. All that extra weight of course slowing them down considerably. We have come a long way from that, he thought, that's for sure - but looking down at himself he couldn't help but wonder if a dozen or so extra magazines (each of them basically acting like another small armor plate) strapped to your chest and abdomen are such a bad idea after all. Sure, the Martian Light Armor offered several tactical advantages and was all in all absolutely superior to the combat suits of the old days, but sacrificing a lot of protection along the way.

Yes, he had a tendency to overthink everything. Contrary to Captain Yao he had realized much earlier that the enemy is not to be underestimated (couldn't tell her that of course, not in front of the others… chain of command and all that…), but still he did not expect too much resistance on way to the Tachi. The Donnager was a huge ship after all and the boarding had only started minutes ago. So, if nothing unforseeable happened, he should be fine. Hopefully. Lopez was not afraid, but he sensed that something was off. Something he couldn't put his finger on.

It had been quite some time since his last actual combat mission and since his promotion to interrogation officer he had only received the absolute minimum of combat training. Even considering this, for Captain Yao it was no question of who to send on the vital mission of getting James Holden to MCRN Command. There was no one on the Donnager she trusted more.

Thinking of combat – when Captain Yao had remarked that she was sure that not all of the Belter pirates they had fought and killed for years were bad people he remembered that his expectations regarding these people were not exactly the most positive either, to put it mildly. But when interrogating those who were captured he realized that much to his surprise most of them weren't evil incarnate. It was more like an unfortunate combination of greed, (they were pirates, after all) political fanaticism and the absolute unwillingness so see ANY fault for their unfortunate situation with themselves. For most of them the world was pretty clear cut - we good, Inners bad. Case closed. But Lopez could see after having interrogated several of them that it was far more than that. So, now that the Captain had mentioned it, the memory of being part in killing them in countless numbers came back and left an uneasy feeling.

He had no rational explanation for why exactly he felt like that. But he could see and imagine the world from the enemies' point of view, he could see the world in shades of gray rather than the black and white - us versus them - thinking of most people. For a soldier this definitely can get in the way of handling things and dealing with situations the "supposed" way. The irony of course being that EXACTLY this trait would make him an almost flawless interrogator.

Anyway, no time now to dwell on all that – he would have the rest of his life to deal with the emotional aftermath of all things past. But he couldn't drown out the thought in the back of his mind that his empathy would one of these days be his downfall.

---

He took a final glance at the bottle.

Got to hurry now – go to the armory, then pick up Holden.

Lopez had waited years to tell an Earther his exact feelings regarding their selfishness and overall (self-)destructive behavior, James Holden was a very welcome (and unexpected) outlet for doing exactly that. Now, in hindsight he had second thoughts about it, though. When the Marine fell to the ground and dropped his gun in the CIC Holden leapt from his seat – but not to get the gun as he had expected in the split second afterwards. No, to check on the injured Marine. There is no way Holden could have shot his way out (he wouldn't have come very far), but he could have caused quite some chaos until eventually stopped. So, Holden's reaction was absolutely unexpected – especially after being chewed out just minutes before for his alleged selfishness. To be fair, Holden was the first Earther he had met outside of an interrogation scenario and he absolutely did not live up to the expectations Lopez had developed due to his upbringing and the general Martian hostility towards Earthers – which in most cases WAS absolutely warranted. Most Earthers wouldn't bat an eye while genociding every single Martian out of existence. But Lopez was certain he would think about what happened in the CIC for years to come. It was one of those incidents that can shatter your whole worldview, even if it lasted only seconds.

---

Now aboard the Tachi, strapped in his chair his mind was racing. They say that in the moments before certain death time dilates to a point that minutes can feel like hours or even more – Lopez now understood what they meant by that.

If he had just followed his orders – get Holden to MCRN Command – and not give in to him to rescue his friends as well there would have been a high chance he and his group of Marines would have made it to the Tachi in time before being attacked by the boarding enemies. But his decision to take the detour killed all of his Marines and nearly himself. He couldn't have helped it, though. When Holden mentioned that he wouldn't leave anyone of his own behind - he couldn't deny him his request. In doing so he would have gone against his highest principles and thus ultimately against himself. At the moment it just FELT like the right thing to do, the only thing to do. The incident in the CIC a while ago – when Holden could have easily shot him with the gun the falling Marine dropped, but didn't, also playing a huge part in his decision.

On the other hand, though, putting his own life on the line is one thing, but that of his Marines as well? He sighed heavily and could feel that his upper left side was crushed. The adrenaline from the fight was slowly wearing off.

Would he do it again? Exchange the lives of his Marines for a group of absolute strangers? For people that somewhat earlier would (probably) have loved nothing more than to rip his face clean off…? Contemplating this would have been heavy enough in a normal situation but right now, in heavy pain from life threatening injuries it was next to impossible. It wouldn't matter anymore anyway – what's done is done. He could only hope that Holden would make it out alive to tell everyone that Mars did not blow up the Canterbury and avert an all out war between Earth and Mars. A war that very likely would reduce Martian civilization to a pile of rubble. Not wanting to take any chances he ordered Alex Kamal to go for max G burn to escape any remaining enemy ships and with that signing his death sentence. His injuries, under normal circumstances, would have been survivable if taken to the Tachi's Med Lab within the next minutes, but the high G forces would cause his broken ribs to shred his lungs, and he would suffocate on his own blood.

Live and die for Mars.

As it was supposed to be…?

His only comfort was that he would not have to live with survivor's guilt which would emotionally crush him rather sooner than later, no doubt about that. Most of his friends were on the Donnager and there was absolutely nothing he could do for them. In a few moments they would be pulverized into oblivion. The pain of this realization was actually far worse than the physical pain from his injuries.

---

He remembered talking to Bobbie Draper about the idea of an Ocean on Mars; he thought about the bottle his great uncle gave him. He remembered many things he had done, many things he had planned to do. If only he had visited Earth to see an actual Ocean. Not having done that was his only real regret.

His vision was going dark.

With his last breath Lopez realized that no one knows about the data stick with the crucial data he was carrying in his armor. He hoped that someone would find it before his body would (probably) be thrown out of the Tachi's airlock.

A03 link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/64560451

[uriekukistan]

Hope your day or night is going well!! ✨

Okay, top five Megumi lines/scenes?

ahhh thank you i hope yours is as well!! and thank you for the ask!!

im in the car rn so some of these i couldn’t track down the specific chapter/page bc i dont wanna use all my data :’)

1 - “i’m not like itadori, i have no problem earning 100 points for myself.” or something along that line

one of the things that fascinates me the most about megumi is the way he places value on lives, and this line is just so cool to me. he’d said before this that he saves people unequally, but this shows just how far that goes. he’ll kill anywhere from 20-100 random people so tsumiki and itadori, the two people he cares about and thinks are worth saving more than anyone else, don’t have to get their hands dirty, and their lives hold more value to him than others. it’s also so interesting to me because of the way megumi doesn’t consider himself a good person like tsumiki or itadori, and therefore doesn’t really see himself as worth saving, so it’s just a necessary burden he has to carry as the “bad” person for those two. also add that in w this line, and im on the floor

2 - his battle vs sukuna at the detention facility/“i’m not a hero, i’m a jujutsu sorcerer”

another moment where we get an insight into his ideas on good/bad people and who deserves saving, can you tell i love this aspect of his character? i mean, he’s about to sacrifice himself for itadori to live (hopefully), even though he literally met the guy two weeks ago, because he thinks he’s a good person who deserves saving. it’s the first insight we get into megumi’s thought process, and this was really the moment that made me start paying attention to him more. i also love how he kept a softer expression on his face and didn’t cry until after itadori died, like he didnt want itadori to feel sad or guilty in his final moments im SICK also the fact that he took the name-tag to that guys mom even though he didnt have an interest in saving him, like he was paying a respect to itadori….ugh…anyway yeah i love dissecting the way he values life.

3 - “so start by saving me, itadori”

see as an itafushist of course this had to make the list like this whole chapter has me on the floor but anyway aside from that, i love thinking about this scene because the words he’s saying seem so contrary to how he thinks? like he’s asking to be saved but he doesn’t think he’s worth saving? so it needs an extra layer of consideration. i feel like he really said this more to motivate yuuji (and save tsumiki) than actually wanting to be saved himself. plus the “it’s our fault, don’t be selfish and give up all alone” aaahhahahsj i just love this moment i feel like it shows his character very well….when the idgafer actually very much gaf….

4 - his first domain expansion

hellooo this was so sick and cool and badass of him like i dont think there’s anything i need to say for this. huge character development moment for him too. add this with the simple domain he had in dagon’s domain + the part in the culling games arc where he literally hides himself in the shadows……he’s crazy powerful and i dont wanna hear anything abt it! if u were traumatized like that you’d be curled up on the floor too

5 - “if you die, i’ll kill you” both times

again as an itafushist i couldnt not include this….of course there’s implications for megumi’s character as well but i feel like there’s only so much i can talk about his moral code in one post yk? but yeah i think it just shows how much the people he cares about matter to him

also bonus i love just any culling games megumi, his determination to save tsumiki and make it so itadori doesnt have to kill anyone makes him grow so much as a character and as a sorcerer, i love it sm

thank u for the ask! any excuse to yap about megumi 🤞

[roo-bastmoon]

Homage vs. Copying

So I'm not feeling super great these days, but I still dip into Jikook spaces for a quick hit of lovely serotonin and to check up on my friends. Alas, I see some folks raging in the tags that JK is stealing Jimin's original concepts because he's too stupid or lazy to come up with his own... I'm not having flashbacks to BTS' plagiarism scandal, I'm not. I have thoughts--and lots of photo examples--about this topic, under the cut. Let's get into it--and keep it civil, too.

First off--let's just establish that folks have the right to use the Jikook tag to both celebrate and critique Jikook and the fandom around Jikook. People get to write about what they want on their blogs. They get to rant, so long as no one is using hate speech and slurs. (The minute I see that shit, I quietly report.)

Clearly, folks who are angry at Jungkook (or Jimin) come into the Jikook tag because they want attention from Jikookers, and the best use of my time and energy is to self-police and block them. That way I am not infringing on their right to scream into the wind all they like, but I also don't have to hear the noise.

Second off, unless JK called any of us up and said: "Hey, guess what? After 10 years of evidence to the contrary, suddenly I'm incapable of original thought, so I just take advantage of Jiminie-hyung, whom I keep calling out and hyping up and praising and asking to spend time with and traveling with and whose style I also match in my personal life!" maaaaybe we give the benefit of the doubt, and at least entertain the possibility that Jungkook is expressing visual alignment with Jimin because he can't just openly claim him in other ways?

Like, I'm not saying that IS what's going on, because Jungkook doesn't call me up and tell me his thoughts, either. It's fine; I'm not mad. He doesn't even text Jin back. I am just saying we should maybe sit with the idea for a bit and really marinate on what that might mean for a queer couple.

(Or we could just take in things without pronouncing any opinions yet--ya know, until we get more data around Jungkook's choices and how Jimin feels about it.)

It's fine not to assume the similarities are romantic gestures; but it's also fine not to assume the worst--that JK is siphoning off Jimin like a leech. Jungkook was consulted by the Seven stylist and he got to be creative director for his Vogue shoot; he also had some say in his music videos and performance stages. He is making choices deliberately, and it makes no sense to me that he would choose to openly copy a bandmate out of laziness. He has a professional reputation to consider.

Rather, I think this is one of the few places where he has artistic license to tether a thread between him and Jimin. I think he's paying homage.

(Side note: In film and photography, an homage is an imitation of another work. At first glance, it may seem like an homage is a rip-off or a lesser copy, but it actually pays tribute to and honors the source work. Homage is a great way to use other filmmakers' styles and content to crystallize your unique voice as a filmmaker.)

So that's my currently theory about what's going on.

Yet, honestly? None of us really know WHY there's so much similarity in their looks these days. The similarities are now stacking up so much as to be undeniable, though.

Personally, I'm leaning to this being a celebration of the fact that Jikook have always shared similar tastes; it's one of the many ways they click. Jikook know that. The stylists know that. So yeah, when JK gets a chance to observe and emulate (and expound upon) Jimin's style, he does. Because Jimin is one of the coolest people in the world to him. So he shows this in his own creative work and in his own personal wardrobe.

Here's why I hold that opinion at the moment:

Could this all be the stylists choosing to recycle looks or throw bread crumbs to Jikookers? I guess.

Could this be Jungkook just borrowing from Jimin as a shortcut? I'm not sharing his brainwaves, so I can't tell you there's zero possibility.

But what seems more likely is that of all the artists in the world, Jimin is the one Jungkook has always kept his eyes on. Out of love and respect, not malice and opportunism.

Like with the 1108 and 13 numbers that THEY keep inserting into their own communications, these similarities in style is also an emerging pattern.

If you feel protective of Jimin, I understand why you'd be wary of so much similarity. But consider what we know of both Jimin and Jungkook over the past 10 years...

While neither of these human beings are perfect (and they will continue to make mistakes), they clearly love each other. And you don't steal from the people you love. But you do honor how amazing they are whenever you get the chance.

So maybe let's just hear JK out on this?

Okay, that's all the energy I have for this topic. I got deadlines and health tests to power through over the next few weeks. If you comment with your own ideas, that's cool--but please keep it respectful of Jikook and each other. I don't want to banhammer anyone but I will.

Love, Roo

PS Even if I'm not around much, you can be sure I'll buy and stream 3D, and I encourage you guys to give it a chance too! <3

[bluedalahorse]

Blue’s Contrary Young Royals Opinions Poll (make your own if you want to!)

Just for funsies, I created a poll about my Contrary Young Royals Opinions. I’m calling them Contrary rather than Unpopular because different things are popular in different parts of fandom, and things cycle in and out of popularity, so who knows what’s popular even? Rather, these are just things that I am stubborn and ornery about. Some of them might be mainstream opinions, but I am stubborn and ornery about them all the same.

You all know that I am an August Enjoyer who obstinately ships sargust, so I did not put that on the poll. I also feel that my sargust shipping and August enjoying sometimes obscures my other contrary opinions because it’s like, my signature trait. So this is a chance to talk about other things!

Please vote and reblog for the sake of fun and interesting data. Add commentary in the tags if you feel like it. Also feel free to create your own Contrary Opinion poll, because I wanna see what other people’s contrary opinions are.

Explanations below the cut. Click if you want to know more about what each poll button means to me in more depth.

Wille is demi and bi and should explore his gender more post-canon. Now, in canon, Wille is unlabeled, and I wanna respect that. So this is more headcanon than anything else. I know some folks read Wille as exclusively same-sex attracted. I do not (although I support people doing such) but I also read him as much more on the demisexual and/or demiromantic end of the spectrum than anything else. Of course I am aspec, so I’m seeing it through this lens. On the gender side of things, well, I just think it would be neat? Wille trying on nail polish and then furiously scrubbing it off breaks my heart. It feels like the royal fam has controlled Wille’s gender expression most of his life and made him present in this more conservative masculine way, and he hasn’t had many options. I also do think Wille’s explosive anger is something he’ll have to grapple with in the future, and I see his anger as tied to a lot of the masculine socializing he was raised in. So having outlets for his feelings that are a little less conventionally masculine could be good. Let Wille wear nail polish. Let him wear skirts. Let him experiment with his hair! I’m of the opinion that even cis people should explore their gender, so even if he played with his gender expression for six months and then decided he’d continue to present conventionally masculine again, that would be good for him. (But in my heart I’m a bit of a he/they Wille truther, not gonna lie.)

Simon does some things wrong and that’s wonderful actually. Let me explain what I mean by this. There is a popular view of Simon where he’s very selfless and makes sacrifices for his loved ones and stands up for what he believes in, while also having to suffer and do a lot of things out of desperation. This is true. There is also a co-existing side of Simon that’s a little less selfless, a little more ambitious, and a little bit more likely to make assumptions about what other people want or need without consulting them. There’s the Simon who feels he has to protect Sara when she clearly doesn’t want him to, and the Simon who hides things from Linda when he shouldn’t. There’s the Simon who calls Bjärstad shitty in a way that upsets Rosh and Ayub at the beginning of season 1, who enlists Rosh and Ayub to help intimidate August in 1.3 without fully thinking about how they might feel about it. Yes, Simon does a lot of things out of selfless care for others and out of desperation, but to assume he only ever does things for selfless, desperate reasons without any selfish impulses or ambition mixed in is… well, it misses some of the most fascinating contradictions in his character. Let Simon be a selfish teenager sometimes! It’s developmentally appropriate and it might one day save his life.

Dirtbag Erik > Perfect Brother Erik. I never really gravitated toward the perfectly supportive headcanon for Erik that was popular in some corners of fandom. I know this is not a radical thing to claim after season 3 and a lot of people are coming out of the woodwork and saying it. I think the point I want to make here is less that Ambiguously A Dirtbag Erik is canon and more that he’s inherently more interesting to me to read about than Saint Erik, Patron of Lost Little Brothers. I’m sort of fascinated by the way that interactions with family members always have layers, and that you look back on past events and uncover more of the layers as you grow up. That’s the shit I live for in fiction. I also don’t love discussions about “what would Erik do if he were alive” because I enjoy sitting in the horrific tension of characters not knowing but having to build a better world in his absence.

August/Nils should have a lot more fics on AO3 than it does. As far as I can tell it has one. One! I ship August with Sara first and foremost but August and Nils have some unexpectedly tender moments in season 3 that made me go “wait, that’s interesting…” about their relationship. Yes, August keeps calling Nils nouveau riche. Yes, Nils finds August’s perfectionism annoying. These are all just tensions to play on to make the eventual bittersweet, conflicted makeout scene more bittersweet and conflicted and hot. If August/Vincent can suddenly gain more fics post season 3, it surprises me that August/Nils hasn’t surpassed them.

Linda deserves to have a life and hobbies beyond her kids, and especially beyond being perfect for her kids. Don’t get me wrong, she does care about Simon and Sara a lot and does what she can for them. And because we’re watching a show centered around teenage characters, we’re mostly gonna imagine her in her capacity as a mom. But I also love seeing the moments in canon where Linda is less than perfect—when she embarrasses her kids, or when she comes down hard on them in ways that are less than helpful—because that shows the human vulnerabilities beneath. That she’s trying to figure things out in the moment, and she isn’t always right. That makes me love her more. And I’d desperately love to see Linda have a hobby like, I dunno, writing a crime novel every NaNoWriMo or something. (I have put this into a fanfic, actually.)

Frida and Malte and Nikita are the hottest of the Main Five actors. I get the appeal of Omar in abstract way, but he looks exactly like the crush of one of my chief OCs in a YA novel I was writing, so I think of him as OC Rose’s crush and feel no draw to him myself. Edvin is a great actor but does nothing for me aesthetically. Oh, aesthetic attraction. So individualized to all of us!

Salice is more meaningful to me as a platonic ship than a romantic one. I am so glad they bring people joy as a romantic ship, and I’m happy to gift the fic ideas I do get for them to the people who love them, but for me they matter more as best friends. When I write them, I draw on real platonic friendships I have had in my real life, ones that matter a lot. Sara breaking up with August to prioritize friendship feels more radical to me. Also sometimes I think I’m a Bad Sapphic for having these thoughts about Salice, but then I remember that Heart and Homeland has so much sapphic content involving Felice and other women, as well as just sapphic content beyond that, and I sleep easier.

Rosh should be shipped with all the other girls, and frequently and creatively. Yes, Madirosh is an overnight fanon sensation we should celebrate that. Yes, Stella/Rosh took us by surprise and by storm for a hot minute, and we should do more of it. But have we considered… Fredrika trying to angrily and messily seduce Rosh because Stella seemed to be crushing on her? How about Rosh and Felice as a glorious butch/femme power couple? How about if Sara is gonna date a tall athletic brunette she dates one who plays a real sport (football) and not a fake sport (rowing)? I hope we all see the vision.

Oops Vincent is sympathetic sometimes. Look, I am not going to deny that Vincent is a bully who sucks. I also think his first year letter was telling. In the letter, Vincent, at sixteen, has just received his ADHD diagnosis. That’s a long time for a rich white boy to go without getting one! That means he’s probably had sixteen years to struggle to pay attention in class—he’s probably acting out and moving around a lot, and internalizing the idea that he Can’t Do School. His parents probably make some “boys will be boys” excuse at conferences. Then he finally gets the diagnosis and gets put on meds. My sense is that Hillerska only cares that his meds don’t make him disruptive in class. They probably don’t care about teaching him alternative study methods that actually work for him, or creating an environment where he feels empowered to use accommodations. And as folks who are knowledgeable with ADHD know, if you get behind in school like that, it takes more than meds to catch you up and help you feel empowered in class. When we see Vincent after his national exams, he’s drawing dicks in the dirt, because he can only envision himself as the class clown who fails academically. He says the academics don’t matter as a self-soothing technique. He’s become mean—mean in a “funny” way—as a way of feeling like he has a “thing” at school. And yes, Vincent will probably be “fine,” he will remain rich and go big game hunting and marry a trophy wife into adulthood or whatever. Again, he sucks! That does not change the fact that Hillerska failed him and his neurodivergences, and that he could actually have a sense of real efficacy and self-compassion for himself as a disabled person instead of just being “fine.” Daddy I don’t love him. But Daddy I would like him to feel empowered to use his extended time on tests. Daddy I would like someone to teach Vincent the pomodoro method as a study skill.

Secondary characters shouldn’t have to be wilmon shippers to be likable to fandom. It throws me out of a fic or a headcanon when secondary characters only are there to support Wilmon being the cutest soulmates ever. I don’t mean when someone like Felice offers a supportive comment to them as a couple, or occasionally thinks they’ve done something cute. I mean when characters sound exactly like shippers in fandom, with similar talking points, and when we as readers of the fic are supposed to sympathize with them because they sound exactly like us. People… don’t talk about friends and family and classmates the same way they talk about fictional blorbos.

YR does not share a universe with RWRB. This idea was more widespread in the old days of fandom, so this Contrary Opinion feels more vintage. As far as what I do think it could share a universe with, I vote for Tana French’s Dublin Murder Squad novels, for the class conflict and the incredibly complex characterization. I would also say Ashley Herring Blake’s Girl Made of Stars has a lot in common with YR in terms of how it approaches trauma and family relationships.

The intimacy scenes in season 3 (especially the big one) made me feel kind of uncomfortable, actually. Something about the changes to directing style and how they were filmed. I don’t really want to explain this one right now but maybe I will someday. So this one is also there for folks who viscerally felt that too.