#^I have nothing interesting to say about Ash here. might be a pattern.

[torchickentacos]

AG Watchthrough Episode 1: Get the Show on the Road! AG001. Long Post, I promise they won't all be this long, this is AG commentary georg, outlier.

Well. Outlier until contest episodes. I won't apologize for who I become once we hit those. Anyways, RE: above. There's usually not TOO MUCH of a plot in AG eps to even comment on, hence this post as an outlier for the pilot episode. So! Starting a full AG watch. I have never fully watched all of AG by sitting down with the intent of watching all of it. I have seen all of it, but not in a directed, intentional, in-order way. Changing that today to really see how it holds up as a whole outside of the episodes I tend to gravitate towards! I don't think I'll realistically follow through with this for more than a week. Going to be honest. BUT I HOPE TO! We'll see. The plan is to watch episodes in bulk but schedule posts once a day. Posts will likely get pretty long for some episodes, short for others, because AG is wildly varying in 'things to talk about' episode to episode. Anyways, episode 1: Get the Show on the Road! AG001.

Side note. I think I will put this in relevant character tags if I have any commentary on specific characters. One, so I can find my own posts. But two, I know as someone who likes characters who don't always get a whole lot, it's SO EXCITING to see people talking about them, so on the off chance there's, like, a Morrison fan out there, I think I should put it there??? Like, I'll read Hoenn Coordinator commentary from 2013 to feel something, so I want to be able to provide that on my end, too. I'd be heartbroken if someone did an in depth ep-by-ep analysis on them but didn't tag it so nobody could see it. ANYWAYS!!! I'll play it by ear and do it when it feels relevant and not just 'yeah this person showed up, I guess'. I don't want to be annoying but also you can just block the #ag watchthrough tag. Or just block me, I guess lmao.

So, the episode opens where the last episode of Master Quest left off (OS274, Hoenn Alone). Basically, Pikachu has electric rabies and May is getting her first pokemon.

The episode opens with May giving her internal monologue/narration about starting her journey. She hits her head on a tree, which may explain some of her decisions later in the series (/joke), but she's on her way to Birch Lab to get her first pokemon. Does she want to? Not really, but she DOES want to travel and this is a way to accomplish that. This is instance one of what I'm dubbing 'Early AG Girlboss May'. (Basically, in Early AG May was more of a go-getter. Or rather, she had more agency and opportunities to get her own way. Early AG May is far more... frankly, shown to be intelligent, which drops off rather quickly in favor of big of heart, dumb of ass May [whom I do love dearly]. I think it's largely done to emphasize Ash's mentor role and her student role, but I digress). I can and will make a separate post on this if anyone wants my thoughts on her character inconsistencies. But for now, just know she's not a fan of pokemon but will deal with it to have a chance to travel the world. She has a goal, she will get it done and use what's at her disposal. Anyways, behold. A girlboss in her natural habitat.

Now, we switch to Ash and Pikachu, alone and Brock and Misty-less (well, until the mirage special. I'll... get to that when the time comes, I guess...sigh).

We also find out Jessie's been to Littleroot before. I, uh, don't know if that was ever expanded upon??????? WAIT same thing after iirc spontaneous combusken where she makes some comment about young love and heartache and stuff. Jessie has some weird backstory in Hoenn (well, SC is Kanto but yk) that I don't remember ever hearing more about? Huh. Anyways. You'll notice a pattern of this in AG, of random interesting details being brought up and immediately forgotten.

Back to Ash. No pokemon center in the town, so he's headed to the Lab, where May's headed too. Birch is 'out conducting an experiment', so Ash just hangs around until he can go to the lab.

IN COMES BIRCH WITH THE JEEP!!! Ash's uber is here.

After giving Pikachu a quick look-over, Birch explains that Pikachu can't release its electricity regularly so it's all building up and getting a bit explodey. Apparently it's due to magnetic field exposure, and I won't question the science or lack thereof. Birch, fascinatingly, doesn't question when Ash explains that Pikachu was strapped to a magnet. Anyways, Birch's driving remains amusing to me.

Look at him go. This is fine and normal. Average Maryland driver.

Anyways, they get to the lab and hook Pikachu up to, quote, 'A device that will rid Pikachu of all its trapped electricity'. It goes bad. Another pattern you'll notice in AG- lots of explosions. Not just Team Rocket blasting off (solarbeam, go), either, just... lots of general, everyday explosions.

So, Pikachu quite literally blows a hole in the side of the lab and escapes in a frenzied state. Ash runs after Pikachu with no other pokemon, Birch follows Ash with the three Hoenn starters, and Joshua the lab assistant is like "WAIT what about that girl we're going to give her first pokemon to- oh, okay bye I'll figure that out myself then".

Team Rocket's... here, I guess. Another AG pattern we'll notice. They show up. they blast off. they leave. rinse and repeat. Jessie is depressed this time around I guess.

Anyways, says Pikachu could explode at any sudden disturbance, so that's a hell of a way to start off here. New season with the beloved mascot? Yeah, he's about to explode. Sorry about that. So, Ash and Birch split up to look for the imminently detonative rodent.

Switching over to May now, who shows up at the lab. Joshua explains that Birch has an emergency in the mountains to deal with and asks May to wait there.

May does not wait there ("I've never been much good at waiting! Bye!"). Joshua uses one of his, like, four lines to complain about kids these days. Instance two of Early AG Girlboss May, having, uh, an actual choice that she can make that isn't just travelling with the group in the back until a contest episode and then going back to travelling with the group in the back. Brock and Max get this FAR worse, though, a topic for a few episodes later.

SO. Birch and Ash are split up looking for Pikachu still. Birch slips and falls and we get a reference to the opening of RS(E, but E has Zigzagoon iirc), with Birch being bullied by puppies. Take note of May's bike in the back. Last we'll be seeing of it. I wonder if she got a new one in the johto arc that we never got to see. Sigh.

We aren't quite halfway done with the episode yet.

Anyways, Birch asks her to help him out and to choose a pokeball. She chooses Mudkip, who promptly water guns her in the face. I guess Mudkip is like a horse or something, it can sense fear. Or rather, it can sense dry apathy and mild dislike. Birch directs Mudkip to use watergun on the Poochyena, which it does.

Ash finds Pikachu and is promptly electrocuted. Badly. But he's fine.

...He's fine, right?

Birch and May see the thunderbolt and rush on over. We get this line from Birch, which admittedly did make me laugh.

"Pikachu. It might explode."

LIKE. OKAY THEN! Way to tell it like it is, bud. Then, seeing Ash, he yells, "PIKACHU COULD EXPLODE AT ANY MOMENT!" So, things are going absolutely perfectly great here. Pikachu panics at the noises and runs right off of a cliff, and Ash dives right after it.

We are interrupted by who's that pokemon.

It's Lanturn. 👍

Ash is falling, he catches Pikachu and a branch and is dangling. Birch and May get a rope and pull him up. Pikachu bites Ash and feels bad about it. Ash doesn't really acknowledge the random person there (May) but to be fair, he's got other stuff going on.

Team Rocket shows up. Pikachu blasts them off and releases electricity that way. Get REALLY USED to the team rocket portions being blown through like this. Just trust me on this, I'm doing us all a favor here. AG TR is REALLY FUNNY when they're funny!!! But... all the great one liners can't make up for the repetition of AG TR. Moving on. Pikachu feels better now (well, he passed out but isn't sick anymore), and....

Yep. Bike barbecue'd. 2 for 2 now, we all saw it coming, there it is!!!

They go back to the lab. May eavesdrops on Birch, Ash, and Joshua, and knocks over a flowerpot, alerting them to her presence. She introduces herself and Birch asks May to choose her first pokemon. Ash asks if Treecko is a water type. It is not. May chooses Torchic!!!!! Birch tells May that if she works hard, she can be an even better trainer than her father. I'm sure we all know who that is but it's meant to be a mystery at this point so let's all act intrigued.

I'm going to expedite the end of the episode. May inspects her bike, it's dead, she goes in and sees Ash asleep next to Pikachu and seems to think their bond is nice, even if she herself doesn't care for pokemon. She just watches them through the cracked door, slightly weird but go off queen, and she attempts to bond with Torchic.

NOW. TAKE A LOOK AT THIS. THIS IS GOING TO BE A RECURRING THEME. MAY IS TALLER THAN ASH IN THIS EPISODE. ALL THROUGHOUT AG, THE HEIGHTS ARE HILARIOUSLY DIFFERENT. I will be pointing out amusing examples of this. AG001: May is tallest. I am making a spreadsheet and keeping track. This gets far funnier when Morrison and Drew come into the picture and we get to just watch it wildly vary every single episode.

Now, Ash AND May are sent off to register for the Hoenn League in Oldale.

SO, this is interesting and another instance of Early AG Girlboss May. May doesn't want to go alone on foot, and her bike is ruined. So, she plays this pretensive game of "oh, my bike is ruined (thanks to you), and I don't want to travel alone on foot, if only there was some solution- OH I KNOW! Let's go together, I happen to know the way, it's no trouble at all, shall we?". This interests me because it shows... manipulation is the wrong word here, but again, like, it shows pretense?? that May generally lacks once her characterization firms up a bit. They're still figuring out writing her at this point, I guess, and we see her be more calculated and thinking and using things and situations and people to achieve her goals. Again, this does drop off into dumbass territory before too long, but it is interesting to see and to think about. When writing May I try to strike a balance- more emotionally intuitive and more of a go-getter like early ag, but not in that premeditated sort of way. She's interesting with the amount of wiggle room you have in her personality, because it simply isn't the most consistent. You get to pick and choose a bit more.

But the episode ends, and May and Ash head on over to Oldale town to register for the league.

End of episode metrics:

Height ranking: May > Ash.

More metrics will be added as we go on. I considered an explosion counter but I would lose track. We're already at like, six /not joking, deadass.

#ag watchthrough #i need to make a tag for when i watch pokeani as a whole #i have the regular tag i use completely arbitrarily and the trashcan for shitposts/memes and the talk tag #BECAUSE I NEED THEM SINCE THE SEARCH FUNCTION IS NOT AN ACTUAL THING THAT FUNCTIONS #uhhh #taylor watches pokemon #👍 #i need to make a tag directory for myself tbh #anyways #pokeani #coordinator may #^I have nothing interesting to say about Ash here. might be a pattern. #there's a reason nobody watches AG for Ash. even when they do watch ag for ash plotlines #it's for cotds and battle frontier stuff #and not. ash. #LOVE ag ash!!!! but he's the least interesting thing about ag aside from some of the episodes themselves #I LOVE AG I PROMISE GUYS /GENUINE #I just love AG for reasons that we'll get to later and. not yet. #scheduled this post btw #halfway through this i got worried that people would think it was dumb that i was putting this much effort into pokeani stuff #but ONE this is my blog. TWO i'm doing the lord's work #THREE literally you guys are here to listen to me talk about pokeani so like. here we go

[ash-says]

Hush Hush Honey:

A guide on how to regulate oversharing and balancing the conversation flow.

Each one of us has at least been in a situation where we accidentally ended up spilling more than we should. We do recognise the patterns but are unable to control ourselves. That's why your girl Ash-says is here to say a lot about it.

1) Find the why

What are you trying to achieve by sharing that piece of information? Drama? Attention? Get it off your chest? Is it important to inform them? Is it valuable to them?etc.

First tackle the why. Before you go in to reveal something ask yourself if it goes with the conversation flow and if yes is it really important to share it.

2) Are you a celebrity?

No like why? Who is interested in your life so much? Are those people paparazzi to broadcast your current events and bring you fame? No right. So shut up.

3) Who puts their dirty laundry on display?

When you overshare you are basically putting all your secrets, stuff that you do or did on blatant exposure. People are going to judge you. That's the very nature. So breathe and keep it inside.

4) Try to listen more

Train yourself into listening more than speaking especially in group settings or around people that you don't know much about. Gossip is real. You don't want to be the next tea time sensation.

5) Alternatives for talkative people:

Now I know you might be thinking can't say this can't say that then how the hell am I going to bond with people or what should I converse about?

I have developed a solution for you. It's Ash verified because I myself have been using it unknowingly for around 7 years of my life.

Never open your mouth for passing judgements, expressing your opinions on things that do not relate to you, your dirty laundry, secrets, family issues, relationship issues, your sex life, your goals and aspirations, your daily routine, your political standpoint,etc you get where I am going right?

Instead speak about the experiences you had while travelling somewhere, some goofy stuff that happened to you, your harmless vice for example: I am clumsy so I have a lot of incidents that occur due to it which can be told in a funny way. It adds a nuance to my perfectionist image plus helps people warm up to me. Movie shows, songs, etc here also there's a catch if you relate to a show/song/ piece of literature strongly never reveal it. The smart ones will understand the inner workings of your mind.

Never let them know your next move.

If nothing of this then goof around being nonsense. Do little hand gestures, funny faces if you are bored but never overshare.

6) Be mindful of interruption

Practise practise practise. Literally that's the only way. Try not to interrupt people while speaking. There's no roundabout way. It is what it is.

7) Be comfortable in silence

You have to be okay with the conversation dying down. Running your mouth dry will only result in one sided convo. It's more useless and harmful than the one mentioned before.

8) Know your limits

Fix in your brain what you can share and what you can't. Stick to it. Even over your dead body.

9) Be genuinely interested in people

Ask yourself are you asking questions to really get to know the other person or just looking for a chance to talk about yourself? Dethrone yourself first and then interact with others.

10) Put out stuff that you are over with

Always remember what you say can and will be used against you. Drill it and from next time when you speak be mindful that every word can stand against you. Do you have the capacity to handle the consequences? Yes then go ahead. No, then stop live streaming.

Bonus point: Be as private as possible on social media. People don't need to know what you are doing nowadays. Privacy is power. What they don't know they can't ruin.

Strategically put things out. I am not saying be inactive. In Rome you live like the Romans. Do it smartly.

That's all for today's show on ash-says. Stay tuned for more illegal tricks and explosive opinions.

#girlblogging #glow up #it girl #self care #that girl #gaslight gatekeep girlboss #self love #becoming that girl #dark feminine energy #becoming her #wellness #advice #motivation #self development #self help #self improvement #dream girl aesthetic #dream girl #it girl aesthetic #pink pilates girl #pink pilates princess #coquette #ash-says #femme fatale vibes #femme fatale #feminine energy #level up journey #level up tips #thewizardliz #wonyoungism

[satancopilotsmytardis]

I really enjoy "Say Something Nice", I've reread it so many times now!

You mostly write Dabi's POV (though it has gotten more mixed lately) so the Shigaraki POV is nice.

Magne's death has a pretty huge influence on the League dynamic in your fics and this is one where it's very obvious. I love how you always manage to show them struggling with it while also showing how it brings them closer.

And Shigaraki is always so perceptive! I love how you point out all the small details he notices in different members of the League.

All of them need stability and positive reinforcements from someone they trust and look up to. Especially Toga, since she's still a teen. And they're looking at Shigaraki to give that because they trust and respect him as a leader and love him as a friend ;-;

"his people" my heart <3

Dabi / Cat comparison spotted! I mean, Shig isn't wrong. Also, Dabi's big brother instincts are kicking in :). Shigaraki recognizes it, too.

It kind of hurts how happy everyone is at a simple "good work". No wonder they're villains.

Shigaraki seeing Dabi care about Toga and immediately putting it onto his mental list of "positive things about Dabi" that he totally doesn't keep (even if he doesn't like Dabi like that yet).

And the blushing starts :)

"Dabi being good at his job, being capable enough to think on his feet and find solutions for problems that might arise that will best serve their interests, is their biggest asset right now." Your version of Shigaraki is so, so whipped. Hopelessly so. That man is disgustingly in love with his second in command and Dabi's adaptability and capability.

I adore how you always make sure to show how capable everyone in the League is. Sure, it's mainly Shigaraki and Dabi, but that's because they're the main characters. With the cipher here, or with mentioning missions they managed to pull of, or even just having the narrator mention something off-handedly, in their own head. It's why I enjoy your characterization so much, I think.

I agree, Shigaraki, Dabi really is pretty when he is working and showing how capable he is. Or when he is confident. Or when he is blushing. You know, I'm starting to see a pattern here.

Oh, Dabi definitely notices that he is attracted to Shigaraki and he is absolutely mortified by it.

Shigaraki sure does think aboit Dabi often ;)

It's interesting how in sexual situations, when Dabi gets upset, his temperature doesn't rise with his quirk, it drops.

Shigaraki, you may be surprise how utterly gone you are for Dabi, but I don't think anyone in the audience is. You are literally always thinking about him, aboit his behaviour, about how he reacts to different things. You called him pretty by accident. This guy is so in love.

Dabi, I think your reaction to Shigaraki's compliments is very understandable. For multiple reasons.

Shigaraki is so, so careful because he does not want to hurt Dabi. The guy who was raised to hate everything, to want nothing but to destroy, is holding Dabi and all he can think about it not breaking him, not losing him.

Dabi bites :3

Shigaraki "wouldn't even complain if Dabi burned both of them out". You are such a sap. What, if you both die, would you want your bodies to be cremated? Would you want your ashes to be kept on the same urn, spread over the same spots, burried together so that you may stay entwined even after death? Such a sap.

Them fucking for the first tome somewhere that is decidedly not a bed comes up more often than you'd expect. Just shows how utterly desperate they are for each other :)

I think the scene where Dabi sits one the floor next to Shig's chair is the reason why this is one of my favourite fics from you. I'm not even sure why, I just really enjoy the level of trust in that scene. It's the same reason I love it when you write aftercare.

It might also be the oral sex.

Love the detail about Shigaraki going just a little bit feral over seeing Dabi on his knees and crying. The dracyphilia (?) is a really nice touch. Lol.

Also really cool how jobs that the League chooses for themselves tend to go over fairly well (or at least okay), while every time Ujiko is involved, things tend to turn to shit.

Dabi coming to Shigaraki when he needs help means a lot to me. As does him forcing Shig in turn to accept his help.

Of course Toga is the one to figure them out. She's such a menace (but she also brought Shigaraki coffee which is incredibly sweet).

They're a family <3

Aw thank you so much! I'm so glad that you enjoy that story! Oh man, I may have officially crossed the threshold of having written too much Shigadabi, cause I could not remember this one at all until I got deeper into this ask lol! This was the rise of the praise kink and subspace Dabi tho, and I do also love the kneeling scene, there's just something so soft about that one.

Thank you so much for the ask!

#tanco speaks #ask #asks

[theangrypokemaniac]

Part Three

Almost everything I forgot.

One of these days I'll get someone to explain the appeal of Training Daze.

Years I've been on Tumblr, YEARS now, and I've never known an episode so cradled and cooed over in a bizarre, lock-step frenzy of undiluted praise, as if we all agree it's a blessing upon mankind.

Even the great Holy Matrimony!, too good for this sinful world that it was, never got that kind of senseless adulation.

And God rest its sweet, sweet soul.

I almost suspect this constant deluge of non-criticism serves as a shiny veneer coating the rather insalubrious reality, conditioning the entire fandom to swallow what it's spooning.

Because if everyone says it's good, it MUST be, right?

Is it just another perfectly harmless coincidence that Hoenn, being the first region after Team Rocket's creator left, is also the one to wipe so much established history away?

1. Ash effectively starts all over again with no Pokémon, setting the pattern for every era to come.

2. The entire past of Jessie and James is flushed down the shitter, making their connection much more shallow and conditional.

Prior to this, we knew they'd bonded long before as children, and so joining a crime empire didn't change anything.

But now? Well, if they only met as members, that's all their relationship is based upon.

They might have nothing in common otherwise, with completely conflicting personalities.

I mean, we can't really know if they'd stay together in the real world, can we?

No indeed, and let's be realistic: why would two complete strangers even want to be together?

What, just because they happen to work on the same team, that means they're gonna get married?

Ah come on, that's a bit of a stretch.

I work with loadsa people. I didn't fall in love with any of 'em.

Look, kids. One of these days you're gonna have to accept that people can be Just Friends without deluding yourself imagining all sorts of romantic fantasies.

Yeah. Shipping them is so silly, when you really think about it.

The way her legs cover his belt gives the impression James is boasting some sort of Team Rocket onesie.

3. As part of this Brave New World, the Rocketshipping element all about disappears from the script.

At a push, you have The Bicker the Better and 'But Jessie, sweetheart', and that's it, in four series.

Five if you're counting the spin-off.

Compare that to no hugs, no hand-holding, Sweet Baby James and this hammer blow:

Max: And I thought you were just a nice old couple.

Jessie: No one's ever called us old!

James: An certainly NOT a couple.

Oh? I'm sorry. I didn't quite catch that heavy-handed 'hint'.

SEE KIDS HE DOESN'T WANT HER THERE IS NOTHING THERE STOP SHIPPING THEM RIGHT NOW IT'S ALL JUST YOUR IMAGINATION!!!

Interesting that it started off as James openly rejecting her, but later developed into Jessie barely tolerating him.

I wish I'd been in the fandom then.

I'd love to know how this mythos of Training Daze as a piece of perfect wonder gained ground in the old forums, fans welcoming such blatant disrespect with open arms.

Or how early PoCo shills silenced dissent.

Yeah, this does completely annihilate every fragment of Team Rocket lore that we loved and cherished.

Now here's why that's A Good Thing...

Well no, flower. You can have the Indigo universe or this atrocity.

Pick one.

Go on. Do it. Why is that an uncomfortable choice?

Why would anyone spare a moment for something so contemptuous of its own fanbase it feels able to tear up and trample upon the very characters we care about?

Eh, they might as well I suppose.

No-one ever answers back.

On the contrary, they'll rush to defend, excuse and celebrate every deliberate manoeuvre.

For example:

Oooooooh! But what about the title?

The sub is called The Origin of Love of Youth!, which, I grant you, sounds promising, but mere words papering over shameless actions are no good to anyone.

First, whilst I suppose the translation is flawed, I'm not sure how this can be an 'origin of youth', given Jessie and James no longer meet in childhood, and are instead as old as they ever will be.

As for an 'origin of love', they've got some bloody nerve, kicking off the most openly Anti-Shipping region by burning the heart out of it, before finishing with James declaring he'd sooner die than marry Jessie.

And Pokémon, more or less over now, ended with them STILL not together, with every sign in between telling us it would never happen anyway.

Exactly what 'love' began here?

I expect Training Daze was slipped into a side-series to contain a potential backlash, where it would all be quietly forgotten without overshadowing the rest of Hoenn.

That miracle unforthcoming, the crew were thus emboldened to insert their various affronts to public decency into the main run, so now you can just shut up and like what yer given.

Yet this chilly Year Zero apocalypse leaves a vast wasteland in its wake, coercing fans to gobble up whatever comes along to plug the gap.

Accept Training Daze, and I'll presume you believe Crossing Paths! out of necessity, meaning Jessie is essentially a wriggling pervert with revoltingly warped desires, and if she asks you to come down the cellar then don't you be going.

'Cause yer won't come back.

As for James, you can go two ways:

• Left home at ten — ?????? — Team Rocket.

• Left home recently, and thus spent his life with Jessibelle, settled and uncomplaining, but doing a bunk once she put the banns up.

Take the first road, and there's a chasm of mysterious blackness in his background that remains unfilled to this day, and now never will be.

But opt for the second, and James chucked Jessibelle after leading her on for years, pissing off as soon as she wanted commitment, and was therefore as cruel and faithless to her as Darren the Div was to Orange Jessie.

Well cheers, retcon!

Hang on. I'll see what I can do.

Every recollection James has is always of his time at home, where he's never any younger or older than his missing poster, as if all his memories come from one single year.

There's no proof he was there at a later date, but also none that he wasn't, since we never see him beyond that age.

So thanks to this bollocks, we now have live with Jessie being a depraved sicko chasing after snotty nerds (NERDS, MAN!!!) and James potentially mistreating women.

Hah! You don't wanna ship 'em now, do yer?

And you wonder why I hate canon balls.

OOOOOOOOOOOH!!! IT SO DOES FIT WITH CANON!!!

Oh really? Proceed.

...

...Um...

...WELL!...Well!...Well now.

See...what happened was...well OBVIOUSLY...they split up in the bike gang didn't they? And then... then they went...somewhere else...

AND THEN...then...they just so happened to join Team Rocket...at the exact same time.

HAH! SEE! SEE! IT DOES FIT!!!

The first rule of propaganda is that a lie told enough times becomes the truth by virtue of repetition.

But the way this is regurgitated to shield a multi-billion dollar franchise goliath like poor defenceless PoCo from criticism is truly humiliating, for all concerned.

You'd imagine it was a well-documented fact given how often its rolled out, not an obvious Cope driving me fookin' insane!

How can it be a continuation if the sub's calling itself an origin?!

They're using The Bridge Bike Gang to prop up a shitshow that erases it in the first place, meaning any 'evidence' the former provides can't even exist in this timeline.

Which doesn't matter, as there isn't any.

Nowhere in that adventure are Chopper or Tyra surprised to see them together, nor do Jessie and James make any reference to a separation.

In fact they've not a single unhappy memory of their time there.

And what kind of excuse opens more questions than it answers?

Believe it, and they both left the gang in a huff, disappeared off the earth for an unknown period, before being independently inspired to join the Mafia, which was handy.

Where the bloody hell were they in between?

What argument could be so awful they vowed never to make it up, to the point they couldn't abide the sight of one another, and stormed off, planning never to meet again, for all the rest of their years left upon earth?

What was it even about?!

And how much time are we talking about?

Weeks? Months? Years?

Well a full decade of missing time, according to the above, being as Duh Twenny Fyve and that.

Ooh, but there's plenty o' clues during Training Daze, I'm sure. We just have to eke 'em out.

Ol' Fat Bastard Bullroarer Took introduces Jess to her new colleague, who — GASP! — happens to feature prominently in one of her multiple-choice Shameful Secret Pasts.

All together now:

It's a small world after all!

And that's enough to knock any girl off her crumpet.

Things Jess WILL say:

• Hmm. You seem familiar.

• Eh? Have we met before?

• Well, well, well. Long time no see.

• Hey, James! It's me, Jessie! Whoa, I can't believe this! How've you been keeping?

• Oh! You again!

• EH?! You mean HIM?! Oh no, you can forget that!

• What? JAMES?!

• OH! NO! NOT YOU!

• SO! WE MEET AGAIN!

• OOOH MY GOD!

It's coming, man. You'll see.

...

BUT! But! James will say it! He'll know her, no problem.

...

Not a flicker of recognition. At all.

Nor is there a single second of footage referencing this supposed Big Argument, proving it's an entirely fabricated excuse trying so hard to clean up after PoCo's tornado of death swept through the ship.

So why lie and pretend otherwise?

But whilst we're here, let's have a look at that definitely-not-cheesy thing James just said.

No one's carried me since my momma.

Yeah. The mother you're talking about there isn't your real mother Ma James, is it?

Else you mean no one's carried you since your governess, three nannies and a footman, til he put his back out.

Again, Holy Matrimony! is no longer canon, thus neither is the rest of Kanto, for the simple reason Hoenn James's 'momma' is some rough, chain-smoking fishwife with six kids by eleven men.

Actual documentary footage.

Well, it's the same accent, so I suppose that's something.

Although I will say, if you try to make it fit, it sounds like James did run off as a boy, even if his home was completely different.

So it doesn't work anyway.

Note that the only way you can have both Indigo and Hoenn canon mixed into some no-doubt cosy Frankenstein freak, offering out milk and there-there hugs, is by accepting that Jessie and James will and can separate over the most trivial issues, thereby leading you to also tolerate, and even justify, all the other Team-Rocket-Are-Splitting-Up episodes to come.

And I don't know why any of us would, as every one of them is predicated on Jessie and James NOT being a couple, not a sniff of hidden feelings even, for walking away is perfectly easy when there's no emotions involved.

Hmm. I don't remember any split-up episodes during the first series.

Certainly not. And guess why.

Now this was Nu-Thinking in its infancy, and yet to gain a foothold, meaning some attempt was made to rationalise the change.

But there's no explanation for how Crossing Paths! connects to Pokémon Tech., the bike gang, or even the Chansey School, given they've all to got to fit around Jessie's late-childhood crisis of Nurse Joy cosplay.

Perhaps it shows Training Daze did its job: buttering 'em up enough to take any punch to the gut, as long as it provided Feeble Emo Feelz in compensation.

Swear down, sometimes I think Pokémon only had a coherent narrative when it was gonna be a one-off.

Soon as that dream died it all went to pot.

During Sinnoh, for example, we go from the Jessie of Noodles! Roamin' Off! telling James to eff off home and marry Jessibelle, to the Jessie of Where No Togepi Has Gone Before! who is implied to be sharing a bed with him.

Take them both as true, and she's a manipulative bitch and bloody abusive, with James as her sad-bastard simp.

Nice.

And thanks to retcon magic, they always were like that now.

Because of the Noodles! ending, we're expected to forgot the beginning, where James almost killed himself trying to bring Jessie back.

Seems the writing can't even stay logical in one episode, as according to this she longs to spend eternity with him, but as for her life?

Nah, some other bird can take the hassle.

Everyone says James's childhood was a vision of horror, for growing up the cosetted only son of two billionaires is exactly as traumatic as struggling to survive as a homeless, starving orphan.

And don't let them pesky peasants tell you otherwise.

But then you have Jessie ordering him back to it.

So either his home life isn't so bad after all, or it is, and she'll happily send James into Hell rather than suffer him a moment longer.

It's SO shippy tho.

Oh look, another minger.

Like a Bay City Rollers tribute act with that collar.

If you were charitable, stooping to admit Dr. Shipman was 'alright', even then, does he remotely compare to James?

No!

Should we limit it to the ugly, boss-eyed Kalos style, then STILL James is superior, because he retains at least a portion of his anime roots.

Besides which, I can never forget James was once better animated, whereas for Dr. Crippen, this mug is as good as it gets.

And it's shit.

But, let's give him his due, he seems to possess two fully working eyes, which puts him one up on Daz 'n' Ozzy, even if they are the Fish-Eyed stare of a psychopath.

Of course, bringing him back down to their level is having No Bloody Nose, just a bridge which...goes nowhere.

And what's up with his neck?

Why is it so thin and elongated like a flamin' lollipop stick?

T.A.P's Law: Never trust a man with a long neck.

There's always a kink in it, like their souls.

Necks like that come from peering over walls to perv on silly women changing with the curtains open.

Conversely, never trust a man with no neck either.

That's from lurking in the bushes.

Is it, AGAIN, a coincidence that Jessie gets pawed off on to the most low-rate arse pickings possible?

What are you telling me? That Jessie is THIS worthless she goes for absolute biological crap, and since they don't want her, she is beneath them?!

And as she can't so much as stomach James, he's even worse than her?!

You look pretty today, Jessie.

I like your ear.

I'm irked at how, in a way, Dr. Shite is close to reasonable, at least within the restrictions of Kalos, yet the 'artists' made sure to stay just on the wrong side of average.

Had that flat, lank rug, supplying a chip shop its annual grease quota in one flick, been coloured black, we could've worked with it, turd-polished him up as the 'tall, dark and handsome' stereotype.

But NO!

Instead, they go for a murky shade between brown and grey, i.e. sludge.

Calm yourself, ladies.

Had his eyes been truly brown, then this could fit with that same 'ideal man' cliché.

But I think they might be veering into red.

EEEEEEEE!!! THE SATANIC HUE OF DÆMON SPAWN!!!

Somewhere along the line, him and Darren are in cahoots.

I insult Dr. Hook relentlessly for this episode, but, all facial flaws aside, it's not his fault.

He never asked for Kalos Jessie to throw her screeching fruit loaf at him; for some utterly unknown lunatic to force herself into his life, expecting to take over.

You ought to able to save a bint without her turning out be an obsessive nut claiming to be 'in love' after five minutes.

Really, he showed her nothing but normal human consideration, never led her on, and all the way through, stayed loyal to his midget girlfriend.

He likes her so much his right eye's popped out.

This is all on Kalos Jess.

She's the one abandoning her mates for a bloody stranger she knows nothing about, who might be a bloomin' serial killer for all she's aware.

Come on, every doctor's offed a few.

She's the one expecting Wobbuffet to take on some tarted-up single mother Wobba and her fatherless offspring.

But is he paying maintenance? 'Cause that's the real question.

She's the one not bothering to tell her friends she's safe, happy to let them go on believing her dead.

Oh, thanks a lot, love.

She's the one who knew James was robbed, beaten and alone, meaning he'd have NO ONE for the foreseeable future, and STILL wouldn't help until she had no other choice.

What a bitch, man!

Imagine how this was for me.

Little T.A.P. idolized Jessie. That was who I wanted to be when I grew up.

What do you think it is to see someone you love, the lively, fiery and beautiful young girl, twisted into a selfish, dried-up and soulless husk of woman?

We're supposed to see her as a weak, simpering airhead, who's 'in love' (HAH!) with every dribbling chump in her line of vision, which is bad enough when you realize how far she's fallen from the early years.

Have you NO dignity anymore?

But the actual depiction, beyond that sugary superficiality, is of a cold, callous, truly repulsive monster, with such a lack of concern for James's welfare she had to be FORCED to help him.

And I find myself in a state of cognitive dissonance.

I don't consider Kalos Jess to be Indigo Jessie, because the only similarity between them is they occupy the same space in the universe.

Problem is that the passive, 'mainstream view' is that they are, and so, immersed within it, by definition I'm expected to see it that way too.

I'm pressured by the planetary weight of blasé fandom culture, to see this heartless, vindictive harpie as no different from the girl I once hero-worshipped, and, as usual, she now was this all along, forever rotten to the core, and unworthy of my devotion from day one.

And I hate that.

As with Dr. Death, it would've been so easy to turn this around, scraping over the line of inadequacy with at least SOME redeeming elements.

If, at any point, Jessie had come to her senses, realized where her true heart lay, and ran back to James and Meowth, laughing at her own foolish fancies, I could've blamed it on brain damage.

If, having heard James's anguished plea for help, she'd dropped everything and rushed to his side, just as she did in Noodles!, this might count as the shippy-follows-anti-shippy rule, which I'd have suffered.

But do we get any o' that?

NO!

The ONLY reason she bothered to lift a finger to save her oldest friend was as she realized Dr. Fox didn't want her.

Whaddya yer see in him, Jess? He ain't even a man!

He looks about fourteen!

Meaning if Dr. Who HAD reciprocated, Jessie would've happily left James to fend for himself, potentially alone for life.

Yer fookin' evil bastard, Jessie!

Right at the end, she flings her bouquet from the balloon, for she's resigned to a loveless existence.

No wry smile, a shrug, or even philosophical attitude that eh, this is where she belongs, and alls well that ends well.

Nope, she resents coming back, and would leap at the chance to leave again, if anyone (and I do think it's anyone) offered it to her.

As to Kalos Jess, James is the lowest of the low, the pond slime company she settles for when nothing better is available.

He is the worst possible result, who she now can't even abide as a pal.

Oh charming, this is.

I have only seen this episode once and I will never watch it again, because it broke my bloody heart.

This was it. This was when I realized.

They'll never be together. All your dreams meant nothing.

I had inklings before, but like an idiot I pushed 'em down, unwilling to acknowledge what my own senses told me.

Year upon year of implications and, God help us, 'deconstructions' but this was the episode where the writers' intent was finally out in the open.

And people STILL didn't see it!

Apparently no one thought this hateful, nihilistic tantrum was anything to worry about, even trying to spin it as a positive that she came back at all, despite what it says about her reprehensible attitude.

As sod James and his feelings.

All that matters is Jess gets some half-witted knob-wrench to take her on fulltime.

Meowth can be sold on like a cheap, hand-me-down handbag, whilst James can suck it up and do one.

It's not just the clanging, anvil-to-the-head message that Rocketshipping is dead that got me, it's that it was murdered in the nastiest manner possible.

If it'd carried on as usual, all their romantic interludes fading to nothing, replaced by the anæmic, brother-and-sister creepfest they have now, it would've been a sad, tedious end, but rendered almost unimportant thanks to interest withering away.

But they couldn't even do that!

Instead, it the clear message that James loves her, but Jessie doesn't love him, and thus misery.

Worse, she hasn't a single platonic feeling for James, or even crumb of pity, though this is supposed to be a fella who's stood by her for the last five generations.

Kalos Jess is in fact ice all the way down, without a speck of humanity.

It's not even 'Just Friends' now! 'Cause that was too much to ask for an' all!

How this is meant to gel with Hoenn James's disgust I don't know, but his delight on seeing her, after all she did, downgrades the once-proud, arrogant posh boy into a broken, grovelling snotdrip, hanging around hoping she'll 'settle' for him once she's out of other options.

Fuq's ache, James!

You can do better than her, love. Jessibelle wouldn't have cheeked yer like that.

And then, for utterly no reason at all, Rumishipping suddenly looked attractive.

Remember how bad the montage was too? That gives you an idea of their opinion.

Although I suppose some of it's practicalities:

A. The 'art style' had degraded so badly by then that any 'best bits' from the first four regions wouldn't fit, instead emphasizing the collapse in quality.

The only answer would be to reanimate every single one, and they don't care that much.

B. A real collection of their finest moments would show Jessie as a warm, magnetic character, giving affection towards James and Meowth, which would somewhat undermine her modern portrayal.

Taken literally, imagine being James, running away crying, and the best memory you have of Jessie is almost dying of anaphylactic shock with her.

You know how this was supposed to be the 'origin of love'?

Well, about that...

What, you believed 'em?

You thought, if they didn't plan on Jessie and James being together, they'd actually tell you?

What, and watch you walk away, you and that lovely bank account of yours?

Come on, they've gotta milk yer dry first.

Here's where Zero Tolerance becomes a winning strategy, because we're only in this cesspit thanks to fans putting up with the steady decline in standards.

• You liked the above picture, so you agreed with rewriting canon.

Or, you took a blowtorch to Kanto, melted it beyond recognition, and stuffed Training Daze into the gloop, meaning you accepted Jessie and James can split up.

But that was alright, as it happened offscreen.

No worries.

• You got tearful over the end of Noodles!, and thus overlooked them parting on-screen, with her telling him to marry Jessibelle, confirming that Jessie and James have no romance.

But that was alright, as she soon came running once he was in need.

Also no worries.

• Now, we get to Kalos, after a full region of no shippy scenes between, and lo and behold, Jessie leaves James on-camera, openly pesters another man, and despises James so much she'll knowingly let him suffer.

But THAT was alright, as she... she... she came back didn't she? Thanks to the conventions of the programme.

No worries!

From the day I learnt Cassidy and Butch were back, I KNEW it'd be terrible.

Not just as it always is, but announcing this on Christmas Eve, thereby parading it as a gift, was tempting fate.

When the sub aired, the one surprising element was people actually complaining about the substandard offering, for once.

Yeah, they'd cheered on every other travesty in this post, but NOW things were serious.

Yet strangely, I didn't find it so awful.

It's a bad episode yes, but there are worse out there, certainly in Galar, and the tone was so slapdash and stupid I couldn't take it seriously.

So why all the fuss?

I would guess many viewers were holding on this long, trusting it'd all be worth it one day, but every disappointment was like the tick-tick-tick of a bomb countdown.

And here's where time ran out.

Something about The Good, the Bad and the Lucky! set off so many explosions, as if THIS was the one, THIS had to be the prize, THIS must be what they'd waited for all these decades.

And when it wasn't, then BOOM!

Too little, too late, sunshine. They don't need to please you now.

Team Rocket are gone, and Tumblerries who wouldn't fight are shocked they lost the war.

Yet there are also daft fans out there STILL insisting the happy-ever-after will come in the very, very last installment, if you only wait another twenty years or more, watching and paying as you go, up to when future writers won't have to bother.

Why should they deign to please you when no kids will remember who Jessie and James are by then?

Maybe we did have the ending we deserved, given no one cared enough to make a stand.

And it's not that I begrudge anyone speaking out now.

I only wish you'd said something when it could've made a difference.

End of Part Three

#Team Rocket #Jessie #James #Jessie and James #Rocketshipping #Doctor White #Hoenn #Training Daze #Kanto #The Bridge Bike Gang #Sinnoh #Crossing Paths! #Noodles! Roamin' Off! #Kalos #A Fork in the Road! A Parting of the Ways! #Galar #The Good the Bad and the Lucky! #GIFS

[faroreswinds]

Anon asks! My fingers don’t hurt anymore so let’s goooooo!

I’ve seen people saying Claude’s ruthless actions in the later part of his route make sense because killing his brother broke him/had a heavy effect on him or something, what do you think of that?

Hmmmm. Maybe. But I don’t think so. 

Claude seems ruthless even in other routes too. He just wants Rhea fucking dead. He’s willing to commit a lot of heinous crimes just so his people don’t suffer. I don’t think this Claude was “broken” by any act other than feeling guilty about sacrificing Caspar’s uncle. 

But I am going through the routes slowly now. I’m on SB and I’m editing my recordings as I go for a large super-cut. Then, I’ll have a single giant story to watch and observe carefully. 

Might make a video on my thoughts if I don’t burn out first. 

I’m actually really mad now seeing all the supports because it made me realize byleth didn’t NEED to be silent or an exposition dump since their background is already interesting enough, hell, the s supports can be kept but I was so mad at intsys for wasting zach aguilar and jeannie tirado’s talents, I really like hearing them in character! Quite soothing and soft actually. I think intsys drank the persona koolaid (i don’t like persona characters being silent either but you don’t see people hating on them as much) and wanted to copy that intsead of letting their protagonists’s background that they gave them shine! Shez is fun but wasted on nopes too

I’m loving Byleth here and yeah, it bums me out they are such a non-character in Houses. They have no sense of humor (in a cute, clueless way), are considerate, thoughtful, and quiet. I like them a lot. 

What a waste. 

Shez is alright. I find them a nothing-burger than just so happens to talk.

It feels like 3 hopes like 3 houses before it, wants to have its cake and eat it too. It kinda wants to be in the anti 3 houses in the sense of reducing/getting rid of the academy phase and downplay Byleth's presence but it also doesn't want to invalidate Byleth. It's nice fanservice, but I feel like this game ultimately proves that you shouldn't always listen to fan feedback if it's going to compromise/contradict your original vision.

The devs listening to feedback is both a blessing and curse.

We finally get Ashe and Yuri supports! But who is this Claude?! 

I was really pissed at first but I’ve calmed down a lot. For a few reasons.

I knew it was going to be fan service but ALSO try not to invalidate Houses from the moment it was announced. I just... I knew. I’m old enough to catch these patterns. The reason I was pissed wasn’t because of these things but because I didn’t except the blatant character assassination we are seeing. But when I just view it as a fun game to play, I feel a lot better. 

That’s why I ultimately still bought the game. It’s still fun!

Dumb, but fun.

Also, I don’t think this is the same writing team entirely, which is why things probably feel WAY off. 

The writing is so odd (have seen some people play SB and GE but but not finished.). Seems like overall character interactions are poignant, but story is obtuse? Sometimes I can’t follow the flow of lines in story. Compare Edelgard’s war declaration in the 2 games. It was coherent in the original. Had to reread it 3 times to make sense of it in Hopes. Thoughts?

Like I said in the last answer, I don’t think this is entirely the same writing team. 

But so far, in some ways the writing is REALLY good and solid, but taken as a whole is a disaster. 

I’ve already reached a point in SB where I’m scratching my head. Like, girl, you installed your phony pope, and now we are... rescuing Lonato? Ok.... This is kinda boring, ngl. Why do you want Rhea alive so damn badly? Why are you pretending you just want the Church gone when in reality you want everyone united?

Be honest for 5 seconds, Edelgard. 

It’s these little things that make the story fall apart. But the little stuff like rescuing Dimitri in AG is solid af. 

I know a lot of people don’t like Byleth but I really liked their supports with Jeralt and Shez plus how Zach Aguilar and Jeannie Tirado voiced them plus their voicelines with Sothis and then I got mad and I think devs shafted their own protagonist in Houses! Their story could’ve been so much more interesting! Like they’re already mysterious and weird from the beginning but it sounds like devs had too little time and too much on their plate.

People don’t like Byleth because they are messy and boring in Houses. But here, they are actually kinda interesting. I think some people are going to see Byleth in a new light.

I never hated Byleth, but I was always disappointed in how they were handled and how they ruined the story. So seeing them here is actually really nice like this. 

At least they used this chance to (somewhat) make them something worth caring about. 

Warning: long rant about GW Claude

I guess the problem with GW Claude’s characterisation is that the idea of his negative development in an alternate world is only good on paper. It would have been a compelling story if the writing team had successfully pulled off “an alternate Claude letting his own biases get to him,  leading to him unknowingly becoming the villain” while keeping true to Houses Claude’s core personality. Something like “Houses Claude spending a year working closely with Rhea opened his eyes” and “Flame Emperor’s actions made him realise that Edelgard is impossible to work with and there really IS a line that you should not cross”, but Nopes Claude doesn’t experience these events and remains unaware of his own flaws and prejudices.

Claude’s most important traits are his curiosity and open-mindedness, but it seems these traits have been completely ignored in 3Nopes. Nopes Claude obviously doesn’t really understand how Fodlan works and what kind of people his enemies/possible allies are. It’s clear based on how he established the Federation with him being the King, completely disregarding the problem that pretty much every Alliance lord except his hard core stan (Holst and Judith) would be against it. It would be one thing if Claude does try to learn the truth about Fodlan but gets manipulated by Edelgard/TWSITD and ends up being the unwilling villain, but Nopes Claude makes zero effort to do that!

Oh, and the fact that the story-telling of Claude’s route in Houses was not very good certainly didn’t help either. I am happy with all the little bits of history lore they have added in Nopes, but Claude and Edelgard’s character assassination just irritates me to no end. Imma gonna pretend GW is only 8 chapters long and stick with AG for dimidue content.

Nothing to add at this time, anon. Just love the rant. XD 

There is still stuff to enjoy so I hope you like Dimidue!

#Three Hopes #anon asks

[myvoicenottheoneyougiveme]

If I trace it back, the larger pattern to the games you play--the way you divide and conquer--something comes to mind from way back that was rather bluntly right out in the open at one time. ...Erotomaniac stalker. This idea of some kind of person that once they get the notion in their head, they will delusionally pursue an object of affection by any means necessary. The unfortunate soul to be caught in the sights of this pathologically psychotic person, is someone that can’t seem to get away despite every plain as day measure to stop this stalker from harassing them. Having convinced themselves that the object of their affection really does want them, nothing the victim does or says can dissuade them. ...There was something in there about cognitive dissonance--the utter bewilderment when everything the stalker believed to be true actually wasn’t. It’s not to say that this person’s fantasy can’t be shattered, but that can be a rather dangerous situation given this unhinged person.

So... erotomaniac stalker who was not, who was by proxy solicited and solicited and solicited and solicited and solicited and solicited for all of the time and energy and attention, however apparently unwanted, that he poured out, who was himself tested and tested and tested and tested and squeezed and manipulated and coerced and harassed and tortured with his feet to the fire, watched as the fire consumed him, melting his brain to the point that that he no longer knew when it was and wasn’t happening. Behind a veil of plausible deniability, mind games, MIND FUCK games, were played on him without end. The only one not in on the joke. It was an absolutely desperate situation with no way forward and no way back, damned if he did and damned if he didn’t. He forged ahead pleading with the only party who had any power over what was happening--the person holding all the keys. ...Between the inside and the out, guilt, shame, and self-loathing, he was slowly coming unraveled. The heat of a fire so intense, he felt he might lose his mind, felt, for the first time in his life, that he knew what that felt like. Everything... everywhere... burning.

The more she tried to get off of herself any sense of obligation or guilt of her own welling up from a trauma past--from a romantic interest who killed himself--the more she vilified and smeared him to make her own out. She couldn’t own that if it didn’t follow the script she’d made, that she didn’t want it. She manipulated and maneuvered him, put words in his mouth, which he always spat out, rather than own a course herself. She felt trapped and so trapped him in return. Increasingly hyperbolic, she put him in a position where he could either find a way to tell her everything she wanted to hear (in good conscience), or he could be burned at the stake for being the monster who broke her heart.

He was in her way.

But she was in his way.

No way forward, no way back.

This dragged on for an ungodly amount of time, till it broke him, till he was down for the count. But she hadn’t won in the end. She hadn’t won the war for the narrative, for her victimhood, for his villainy--the war to take his humanity away from him and name him everything wrong with the world and crown her the world’s greatest victim. ...She’d simply killed him again.

After a relatively long time, he remembered a place where people mused and wrote and blogged about every mellow-dramatic thing that ever existed. And he had his own fair share of grief now to give shape and release--a stream of consciousness intentionally given to no one. And he surrounded himself with the work and thoughts and musings of like minded people, who exposed him to new things and enriched his life. It was a short-lived but wonderful breath of freedom amidst the ashes of the life he once knew. Almost nothing and no one remained that had been in his life before the war began. So everything that moved him, or that he found thought provoking, made its way here. Here instead of there. Instead of taken and twisted and picked apart, as though every breath he took were somehow a crime or MUST MUST MUST have something to do with the Queen-and-Savior. Instead, here, everything that was, just was. No receipt, no rejection, no anything. Simply existing after the longest nightmare.

It was rather raw, the most of what was released. In hindsight, I can say that it was a stream of “drama” and “grief” that was quite uncommon. And if the naming of a great cataclysmic “crime” as told from the other side, is any indication, extraordinary was the depth and breadth of the war torn landscape of what had transpired. To have read of any of it, it carried the gravity of few others...

or at least that’s what one stranger from that site must have thought when she read any of it, because she latched on like someone that WANTED TO BE the object of that “crazy”, “delusional” love. “Sign me up,” she must have said. “I want a piece of that action.” To be OBSESSED about. To be the center of someone’s world. To have someone on your line, LIKE THAT.

Communication was over the airwaves--a dance step, a pace which she set. Started out small but came to encompass every single post she made. It was an incredibly pointed, timed, back and forth, commenting on, reverberating about, every move and breath I made. I got brave, then she freaked out. Confused, I deleted everything and tried to walk away. She wondered where I’d gone, wondered what happened. I eventually came back, and she eventually played the tune she’d been playing. The conversation went on again as it had. But of course the timeline on all of this was relatively short. There wasn’t many places for such a conversation to go between two LITERAL strangers. And as much as she tried to guilt me like Michelle had, or anyone else had, for not feeling enough, I tried to stand on solid ground and say that she was being unfair. Her big grand gestures or lewd flirtations when unmatched were always met with accusations. Just like Michelle had. If it wasn’t flipping what she was doing around on me and making me out to be THE stalker. It was projecting some kind of judgement of her onto me over sexual promiscuity. She stated on more than one occasion that if men think that women are stained or spoiled or tainted once they’re not a virgin anymore, then they should look at themselves (as source of that staining).

She squeezed me. I’d come to give up bits of my real information and even a real photo. I’d tried to run a few times, when I’d put a foot forward (out of line mind you) to find a door slammed hard in my face. But it was only a few times. And the door slamming or any other kind of rejection was never an actual reply but came in the same format as the whole rest of the “conversation” had been.

But to a larger point, I’d demonstrated a desire or ability to delete my entire blog, mostly as a means of wiping the slate clean and removing any trace of a lingering intention to be involved with her. I’d intended and failed two or three times to go back to musing as I had without giving her a second thought. But I couldn’t understand WHY she was doing what she was doing.

After the first confusing run-in with her, I’d taken it to my counselor/therapist who I’d been working with since having that nervous breakdown that had me dropping out of the workforce and moving back home. The guidance was simple. And my initial reservations, were said to be unnecessary. But the guidance was simple. I’d never considered that anything I thought or felt could really matter to anyone. But the guidance was simple.

And the interaction with her had run its course and run straight into the dead end of the double-bind that Michelle had made. And for the old guilt this girl leveraged, and my own insecurity and shame, my own sense of obligation, like I’d been so gaslit and so brain-washed before, I HAD TO BE TOLD. I had to be told, that it was another situation where I was taking responsibility for things that were beyond my control. I had to be told that my initial insistence on REALITY, over fantasy--actual experience over make-believe, was in fact warranted. How was I to be obligated, like my feelings for this person should have been growing, like we’d been growing closer, like we’d been ACTUALLY getting to know one another? It wasn’t real. IT WASNT REAL, and I knew it, but she denied this. I knew it, and it took someone in authority on these interpersonal matters to say, “no, if you are not experiencing each other, your feelings will not grow. You will not feel any closer or more connected than the day you started. If she’s not interested, then she’s not interested. You don’t have to wonder beyond that. Her actions speak for themselves.” I didn’t owe this girl anything. And there was nothing for it.

I said my piece for the last time, and here’s where my own account of what happened next falters. I either posted it, in our usual format, out in the open, or I sent this “it’s been fun but...” as a final direct message to her inbox. “If we aren’t, if we’re not going to, then we can’t. That’s just how it is. What do you want from me? I’m moving on.” Most of these quotes are paraphrased. Exact wording is impossible this many years later. But this distinction of how I said my final bit is of great importance for what little of what came next that I was witness to.

I did as I’d done before. AS I’D DONE BEFORE This person who’d created her own system of feelers and spider-like stranded trip wires to quantify attention and to distinguish between WHO ever crossed her threshold, knew my every move. All I know, is that she knew enough to throw a fit when I attempted to opt out of that system by using the TOR browser. How dare I deny her CONFIRMATION of attention given her? Come to find out it was an HTML embedded google analytics... thingy. Don’t know what you call that, but websites use things like it all the time. It was like a little badge on the page. It was used in this case between us like the texting applications phones use nowadays where people can elect to or decline to send “read” status updates within the conversation. She knew when, how often, and from the approximate geographic location.

If I’d sent a direct message, this explanation about her analytics software isn’t so relevant. A direct message is plain. It’s time-stamped. It is itself evidence of itself. If I said my final piece just out in the open where most of our “conversation” had taken place, then this ticker of sorts, was the stand-in trip wire. Either way, I’d have to have visited her page to do either of these things. It was a “conversation” after all.

The point is, saying my piece, was PREDICTABLY followed by WHAT I’D DONE BEFORE.

DELETE.

Only this time, immediately after saying my piece, and going to delete and remake, my url that I’d deleted and remade 3 to 4 times by then, WAS UNAVAILABLE.

You tell me.

You tell me what that means.

You’ve acknowledged that I... you targeted the account I was using, how the hell do you think this all started?

I was forced to make another one, but I thought nothing of it. I thought better actually. It was a chance to be truly free. If she didn’t know what it was, she wouldn’t be echoing and trying to get my attention. I wouldn’t be left wondering. OR hoping.

Point is, she was “notified” of my departure. She was the only one, if not another stalker come from Facebook, come from Michelle-territory following the bread crumbs from Facebook, to Twitter, to Tumblr as the accounts were linked in that fashion.

SOMEONE KNEW

...someone was waiting.

Someone was waiting to snatch it up, the second I let it go again. But the only person who was actively notified of this, was the girl that cried wolf.

You tell me what that means.

The girl cried wolf ON HERSELF. Let’s leave aside the shock and awe lie for effect about a girl who is actually doing just fine and has long since moved on with her life. Cause it was, let’s see here, let me think really hard for a minute... 2013!!

The girl, that as an opening line, threw a fit about attention not given to her personally, but rather to a photo of someone else that wasn’t her, cause you know she put so much time into her selfie game. It was a simple click of Tumblr’s version of a like button, but it wasn’t on a picture of her. SOMETHING SHE POSTED, of ANOTHER GIRL. Oh, men are the worst. I didn’t know what was going on but she was probing like she’d go on to probe from then after, like a girl fishing or is it called “catfishing” these days in the dating scene?

My URL gone, the second I deleted it. Unlike the times before, when I’d just remake it right then or a little bit later after I’d think the dust had settled. Deletion the way it had become was a feeble attempt to disentangle myself from her. Predictable.

My URL was gone. Who was waiting there to take it but the person WHO WAS STALKING ME?

How complete was the facade? Did she copy and paste, things I’d once written? You said something once to the effect of a criminal who was convicted over matching bite marks. How complete was the facade? Did she use my real photo? The one I’d given up?

The girl TOOK the URL and proceeded to make a scene with it. And a scene she made. It wasn’t just on herself was it? It was every other person whose blog I’d ever clicked “follow” on. Every... single... one.

This “catfishing” internet stalker who’d been given an ultimatum, who’d been told “no”, who’d been rejected and walked away from. The girl whose game had been shut down. The girl whose toy had up and made up its own mind.

Thing is, nothing happened till I looked back one day. She didn’t know where to find me. She didn’t know how to stalk me again. She had no line or lead or anything to tie back to ACTUAL me. ...Till, I saw whatever the fuck kind of scene she was making with the tiniest bits of information I’d given her. Posting registries of sex offenders from Oregon and putting on blast LIKE SHE”D IDENTIFIED HER HARASSER. MUWAHAHAHAHHAHAHA.

And like an idiot putting way too much faith in humanity (or just girls was it?), I took the time to dispel whatever nightmare I believed she’d been caught up in. After all, wasn’t it what I needed? What I NEEDED more than anything to hear from Michelle, who refused to differentiate herself from the amorphous mob of pushing pulling stabbing prodding biting tearing torturing.... I was a sucker for what landed me here, RIGHT HERE, RIGHT HERE.

She needed to know. She needed to know. That was all. If she was a decent person who ever meant anything she ever said, despite not being willing to let it go anywhere, SHE NEEDED TO KNOW.

But I wasn’t back. She tried to resume the games she’d been playing. Magically, all around, the HARASSMENT, stopped. Nowhere to be found. As if all was right with the world again. ...Funny how that works.

But I wasn’t back. I made that clear. I repeated myself a few times.

And when her ticker read that I really actually wasn’t back, what do you think happened next? Next, now that she’d found me? Next, now that she had an actual person to point a finger at?

I did what I’d done so many times before in an attempt to disentangle myself from her. I did so predictably. DELETE. Only this time, right after informing her that I was done. My URL was magically gone when I went to remake it.

Tell me how that happened. TELL ME. TELL ME WHO.

BYE, I’M LEAVING. HAVE A NICE LIFE. DELETE Huh, that’s weird. It’s never done that before.

Hey, HEY, HEY, I’M about to delete this AGAIN. DONT GET ANY FUNNY IDEAS IDENTITY THEFT IS A CRIME YOU KNOW

Like, ...I’ve been open-ended on this myself and for the longest time not willing to believe that she’d do that. But it wasn’t an accident. I’m sure of that now. Had the thought when I thought to myself what someone who actually wanted to do what you say I’ve done, would have done to ACTUALLY GET AWAY WITH IT. I can tell you, I wouldn’t have been caught. I can tell you, that I would never have been so stupid in the first place, but ...like seriously. Why would I stick around? WHY? I know how the internet works. I know about how these sites log information. I know about the trails that can be followed. It’s absolutely unthinkable. But assume I did, and it’s like WHY? WHY THE FUCK, would I have stuck around? Why the fuck would I have jumped out to say HERE I AM, SHOOT ME PLEASE, if I had any fucking clue what was going on?

“Hey, this is what we’re up against. I don’t know why you think that way or feel that way about it, but this is a dead end. I can’t keep doing this. If you actually want to make something, then lets make something, otherwise, I have to go.

I’m not going to keep doing this with you anymore.”

SEND

DELETE EVERYTHING? confirm ITS ALL GONE

NEW ACCOUNT CREATION

URL UNAVAILABLE

??????????????????????????????????????????????????????????

Please explain to me what that looks like. 

What happened, that ever pointed you at me?

What was that other account doing?

What backlog over a number of weeks was just waiting to slam down on top of me, when it was abundantly clear I wasn’t coming back?

Who harassed every other person I was still following after I shut the door on her?

Why did it take till I’d looked back to wonder about her in a poor stroke of judgement, before that trap snapped? Why if there was anything AT ALL besides tying it to me? Why did the URL disappear? Who took it? Why did “this” begin like a wildfire, only after I’d shown myself again to her? Why wasn’t that other account enough? Why? Why wasn’t that other account enough?

Did that girl I tried to give some advice to when she was putting her AMA harassers on blast about, did her reaction to me indicate something? Was it the same profile picture? The person harassing her? Then I show up? Then I show up, same profile picture, offering sympathy?

What person could have SO GODDAMNED STUPID, even if they wanted to... what? Get even? I may as well have said, HERE I AM, COME AND GET ME. I’m right here. SHOOT HERE. LOCK ME UP.

I stumbled into “this” like someone who didn’t have a clue.

Explain to me, EXPLAIN, EXPLAIN IT TO ME.

HOW

WHY

Who stole it?

And what did they do with it?

Who stole my identity, and what did they do with it?

WHAT, gave you the fuel for the chain reaction, the critical mass to set “this” NUCLEAR BOMB off in my life?

What, gathers from all corners of the earth to your banner?

Who stole my identity, and what did they do with it? 

What, but to end my life with the biggest “orgy of evidence” only someone who wanted to be found or caught could have come up with?

Here I am, take me away. SHOOT HERE.

Who stole my identity, and what did they do with it?

Who decided, I hadn’t paid enough already? Who decided that my life had to end?

[so much for effective and concise, the moment of the thought has long passed, but the question has remained. I don’t feel that the point is at all lost for being smeared over a page like a person ground across the pavement dragged along behind by a noose.

Erotomaniac stalker who was not. Tortured, lost any grip on when it was and wasn’t happening. Broke. Found his way here. Was read by someone who was hellbent on getting a piece of that action. A “conversation” that ran its course, despite her attempts to get me to back down from having my own back and putting my foot down on what I knew was true. Said goodbye for the last time. Deleted the blog as predictably as I’d shown up to then. Signaled it. Might as well have been waving those lights for planes to land. RIGHT HERE.

The point, was that I sent it to her. She was notified. She the person who had been stalking me, was notified. I’m going now. Bye. Delete. Remake. ACCOUNT UNAVAILABLE.

If it was in fact that account, someone posing as me, someone impersonating me, and RIGHT AFTER, I’d walked away, made good on walking away.

You tell me.

You tell me what that looks like.

Who else could have taken it? Who else could have timed that so perfectly? Who else but the person who’d been messaged or NOTIFIED via the strands in her web? Who else could have snatched that up in the matter of minutes or even seconds that it took me to turn around and remake it? WHO?

And why would I, even if I could be said to be so pathological, why would I have been so stupid as to leave such a trail? And why would I have... why would I have been around to incriminate myself if I had any idea what was going on? If she already thought it was me, if she was already crying wolf and couldn’t do anything about it, why would I have come walking in, from my actual account tied to things in my name, and not hiding behind a proxy network? WHY, would I have put myself in the position to be accused of something like that, if tormenting her and everyone else was the goal? Why the hell would I make a trail back to myself? How complete was the facade? Did it scream what she wanted it to scream? But she lacked anything real? Till I showed up? Yes, yes, I’ll just ...no ...no.

Why the hell would anyone do that if they wanted to get away with it?

I said goodbye.

My account was stolen.

Who else could have taken it?

I’m tired. I’m tired of everything. But if there was ever a clear-cut anything I can say it now. I can. The girl is fine. The girl has long since moved on. The girl got everything she wanted and then some. I would never live down, rejecting her.

EVER. I would never live down saying “no” to these games.

Who else could have taken it?

And why would I make a mess posing as myself and then show up with my real account like I wanted the cuffs put on me? It makes no goddamned sense.

She waited. I said goodbye again, for the last time, it had been coming.

Account unavailable.

Who else could have swooped in right then and there? Who else but the one literally notified?

There’s nothing else to say. Nothing left to show.

I will have said this at least. Dared to.

She cried wolf on herself. End of story. Literally. The clock has long since stopped, I should know.]

[A collage of other things and other people, but not a direct experience of someone lacks depth. It’s vapid. It’s not rooted in anything. A knowable, definable, experience-able person. Playing footsie on the internet, (read: CATFISHING) doesn’t count as legitimate quality time spent with someone. Demanding that they do with the inside of their own head, can only ever be in love with love, not with someone. And I never could do with the inside of my head. If I could, I really would have been, the kind of erotomaniac stalker you’ve always needed me to be. It’d have been enough for me, the way you acted like it was enough for you. But it wasn’t for me. Not by a long shot. So you vilified me. And when you in the end failed to vilify me, you flipped this on its head. Not a villain for failing. Now somehow, a villain for going so far with so little. So far. More like straight to hell.]

[waltnut]

Hey!! Do you have any more lore ideas of the demon bros in their level 3/4 states? Your last post was really interesting!! :)

I do have some that’s kinda dark? Maybe even kind of NSFW-ish? I’m not sure how you’d categorize it but here it is anyway.

I’ve had this idea of when the “heat season” comes around and what is needed to be done to protect MC. This is in no way what I think happens EVERY TIME heat season comes around just an idea that I had in my head for a concept. I’ve read many wonderful Headcanons for the heat seasons for the brothers and they are all way more thought out than this lol.

The idea is that for MC’s protection, it has been tasked to keep the brothers locked up in their room or a specific location until the heat has passed. The scenario is that this is the first time MC has been there for it and Barbatos is explaining to them and showing them what is needed to be done. There are seals in every room to keep them from breaking out, for example. The seals are made for that specific demon and do not affect MC or other demons. Most of them are in Level 4 during this time but will phase into Level 3 to try to manipulate MC into letting their guard down. Each demon is given something to keep the desire at bay. If they stop receiving these things they will go into a rage.

Assume they are in Level 4 unless stated. This is specifically the brothers...Read more below.

Lucifer - Locked in his room

Mc is not allowed even on the same floor as Lucifer during this time. It is said his power and influence can affect a large radius and should you get too close, you will feel unconsciously drawn to him or where he is.

There is a seal on his door to keep him in.

You will hear nothing behind his door, it is as if no one is home.

He stalks around in his room in Level 4, with all his lights off. Ashamed of himself and his lack of control.

If he knows MC is close, or if he can no longer resist, he is able to project illusions of this form throughout the house to Lure MC or scare MC into heading closer to him. You would see these out of the corner of your eye, or red eyes in the shadows of a silhouette of a giant goat man.

Should MC enter his room, the seal does not react to humans and opening the door does not break the seal, MC will be stuck in here until it’s over. Have fun dealing with a scary goat demon in the dark.

Music is needed to keep him calm. If no music is played he will use his illusions more to terrorize others on the outside and become violent if approaching his physical form.

Mammon - Locked away in his room, in a secret cellar type room that is accessible only through his room. It’ll

To get to him, there is a door in the back of his room, that only appears for this season, magic or something. It leads down a spiral staircase where the walls are stone and you come to a large stone room that is lit by conches and it’s filled with gold and treasure and the like. It’s a dragon’s den. And it’s separated by a wall of decorative bars keeping MC on one side and the dragon on the other.

The seal is on the bars and touching the bars would repel him. But MC can touch them and stick a hand through.

He lays on his treasure and gold objects which will stick to his leathery parts on his wings and the underside of his tail and belly.

Nests of treasures, tapestry and fancy rugs are also used as paddings for his nests. There are items from ancient times, which you could only assume he’s had for centuries and his hoard has only grown since then.

If MC enters this chamber he will transform to level 3 and offer his treasures to them. He will also pout and guilt to keep MC there with him.

Treasure is given to him every hour to keep him happy. He transforms back into level 4 in a fit and will destroy his piles of treasures out of anger and upset if they choose to leave him.

If MC chooses to stay, he will dress them in his treasures and make nests for them.

Leviathan - Sealed in his large aquarium tank. Did you think it was built for the fishes?

The only light source comes from the fish tank and TVs. You can see a giant dark mass inside the tank wrapping around everything inside. It has pulsating glowing orange orbs on its form.

There are Tv’s set up in front of the glass. A lot of them. All of them are anime. There are also a lot of plushies floating in the water. To keep him company, Barbatos would say. These objects keep him calm.

If MC approaches he will turn into Level 3 and press himself against the glass with the most sad eyes. He will use words to manipulate MC into feeling guilty for him being alone and to stay there with him and watch all the shows.

If you stay too long in this room you will hear an eerie whale type song in the back of your mind. It seems to make you dizzy and makes you want to stay with him. Maybe you just might jump in the water. Who needs to breathe anyway? He probably has a solution for that.

If MC chooses to leave he will turn back into Level 4 sea monster and wail the saddest deep sea song and slam his huge body against the glass. Hopefully it stays in tact.

Satan - Locked in his room.

A green glowing wall seal separates the door area from the rest of his room. It has a shimmering flame affect but you can see through it.

His room is trashed. Books ripped to shreds, book cases fallen over, small flecks of green flame and ash are scattered on the piles.

He remains in Level 4 even if MC is in the room. And he is not nice. He is mean. He will scream and yell and swear profanities at them, and especially Barbatos since Barbatos will not let Mc go alone. He will say down right terrible things out of anger and frustration.

If MC expresses any type of upset, it’s possible Satan might notice. If he does, he will lower his voice and approach. He will apologize and begin to try to convince Mc to stay with him and read all the books.

If he is refused he will slam on the sealed wall furiously and monstrous screaming continues. His flames in his body are strong and bright.

Books are given to him every half hour as well as audiobooks of plays from every language to keep him calm.

Asmodeus - Sealed in his room, but an altered version of reality.

His room is separated by a clear glass wall with an invisible seal. On the other side there are mirrors everywhere. It’s like a fun house with how they are not in any uniform pattern. Some are cracked and broken.

There is pillows and blankets and a giant bed where there isn’t mirrors.

The mirrors are used to keep his morale low, showing his reflection in his level 4 state causes a depression to keep him from wanting to pursue others, as he is the avatar of Lust and is the most insatiable during this season.

If MC is in the room, he will actually scream and refuse for them to see him. If MC can convince for Asmodeus to show himself, he will come close to the glass barrier and black tear lines would be streaming down his face.

He will show himself in Level 3 to them to convince MC to stay and keep him company. Something about wanting to see them from every angle with all these mirrors?

If refused he will start to break the mirrors around him. The magically repair themselves eventually.

Other demons like succubi/incubi are sent to him to keep his appetite lower. But he will always prefer MC over them.

Beelzebub - Locked in a giant meat freezer storage near the kitchen.

It’s very cold in here, and there are animal carcasses hanging from meat hooks everywhere. Even things you never seen before. It’s a large cold room with tile.

Bars separate you from the monster in the middle of the room. He sits on a pile of meat and flesh, sounds of tearing can be heard. But also the raffling of chains. The bars are not enough to hold him. There are seals on the bars and metal cuffs attached to his wrists and ankles.

Steam can be seen coming off the monster form Beelzebub.

Once MC enters, he will come launch himself towards them but the chains catch him and hold him away. Barbatos will allow MC to throw him some meat but to use a rod to stick it through, like some zoo keeper feeding a lion.

It was said they didn’t start using the chains until one time he broke out and went on a feeding spree. I won’t get into details about that.

He speaks in very few words. “Closer.” Or “Stay.” are usually what he’ll snort at MC. He stares at them, licking his lips. You don’t know if it’s lust or hunger or both.

He doesn’t put up much a fuss if MC leaves, as the food is enough to occupy him.

Food fed to him by the hundreds is needed to keep him from raging.

Belphegor - Locked back up in the attic.

There is a wall of black smoke/fog that hides the rest of the room. It has light flecks off white in them, like stars.

Red eyes stare at you from inside the fog. They disappear and reappear somewhere else.

Barbatos tells you to not touch the smoke. Do not. Ever. Touch the smoke.

Level 3 arms of Belphie can reach out from the smoke to grab you.

His voice is soft and sweet but his words are not. He tells you he is always with you when you sleep. He can see your dreams. He is in them. It’s the way he says these things that are unsettling.

He can disperse the fog enough to show himself to you. He can change the fog to look like space and galaxies to entice MC to want to stay and experience it.

He will guilt trip MC, saying they’re the reason he’s here and they owe him. They need to make it up to him. He can forgive them if they stay.

If he is refused, a wave of tiredness will wash over MC. Barbatos must always accompany them and he is able to take them away before anything happens.

Incense smoke is needed to keep him calm and sedated.

Now you may be thinking...What about Barbatos?? Isn’t he affected by the season?? To that he replies...

“Oh yes, but my constitution is much stronger than the rest.”

Then perhaps you may be wondering about Lord Diavolo. To which he replies...

“It’s best you don’t set foot in the castle. Better yet, just stay in here in the house, where it’s much safer.”

#text post #monster boyfriend #obey me headcanons #long post #obey me

[aizawa-needs-coffee]

Hello! welcome to the mha side of tumblr! can I please have a nb reader x Dabi x Hawks? maybe something with some jealousy? thanks!!

Thank you my dude. I haven't written in a hot minute and feel I might be a little rusty.. but here we go. I focused a little more on Dabi then Hawks but I hope you like. I didn't proof read like an animal.

Pair: Dabi x nb reader x Hawks SFW Wordcount: 1,130

“Oh, baby, let the bad times roll”

There was nothing worse than a bad situation that you had put yourself in, wanting to blame everything but yourself, but he knew this was entirely his fault, his ego didn’t allow him to fixate on that though, instead he wanted to lay the blame on him, or you. Dabi refused to admit it but he was jealous, he knew he was the type to want and demand everything of someone, expecting nothing less then their all. So why had he wanted to go down this path?

He grunted to himself as he started to roll another cigarette, glaring out the open window at the night sky, the shimmering lights of the city. His hands set on auto pilot, bringing it to his lips as he lit the tip with a bright blue flame from the palm of his hand. Taking a drag, he didn’t spare a glance towards the bed where a body stirred.

The reason he was in this shitty scenario was because he wanted more. He just had to have everything didn’t he? He’d told himself it was fine, he deserved not one persons undivided attention but two.

He only looked over to the bed when he heard the springs groan. You rolled over to the empty cold side of the large bed, untangling yourself from large red wings with some effort, gently moving the arm around your waist. Tired eyes met bright blue as your feet swung around landing on the plush carpet.

“Did I wake you?” You shook your head softly pushing up from the mattress, softly walking over to the brooding man with the dangerous quirk.

If people could see how casually you walked over to one of the most dangerous villain's in Japan and perched on his lap, warms wrapping around his neck. He chuckled gruftly feeling your face nuzzle against his neck, soft breathing against his skin, face still a picture of sleep.

“Nightmares again?”

Your lips tickled his neck, a pleasant sensation, he took a long drag of his cig and exhaled towards the window, one arm keeping you close to his chest as he did so. The mix of ruined skin and soft always felt nice against your back, his hand trailing up your shirt, feeling the flawlessness of your own skin.

“Same shit, different day” it was half a lie.

“Come back to bed after?”

Dabi looked over towards the bed, the nicest one he had ever slept in, even if it was crowded. Hawks was flat on his front, legs and arms stuck out in all directions. They had been together first, before you had come along.

He didn’t regret bringing you into the relationship, he had wanted you both and the energetic blond had been more then happy to share his interest in you as well. It was both the most functional and dysfunctional relationship you’d had in your entire life but at the same time you never wanted to change it.

Dabi on the other hand, constantly eaten away at his deepest darkest hidden insecurities always seemed on edge. He’d see how you and Hawks interacted, each handhold, each kiss, the fact you could be a couple out in the open, the world allowed to see the feelings shared between the two of you. He felt like he had most of his life, left in the shadows, alone.

But he couldn’t bring it up, could he? It had all been his idea, he wanted more, greedy and jealous an awful mix with his already flawed personality. Hawks had even asked him over and over if it was a good idea. Dabi was stubborn, didn’t ever admit he was wrong.

He didn’t want to be left out, he didn’t want you and Hawks to get so close with one another that he would lose out and have no one. Maybe he did just deserve to be alone.

“Can I ask you something?”

You sat back enough to look at him, make eye contact, as best as you could with half lidded sleepy eyes. You nodded your head watching him tip the ash from the end of his cig out the window. He took another puff, brows furrowed, he looked like he was trying to figure out what to say to you.

“Yeah?”

“Don’t bullshit with me, you know I can tell when you lie” his voice was dark, the warning clear in the tone.

You sat up even straighter when you heard the edge to his voice, nodding your head slowly. Hands on his shoulders waiting for his question with far more attention then moments ago, the groggy feeling from sleep had drained from you, his serious tone having you on edge.

“If he” he nodded to the hero “Ever wanted you to do some fucking lame shit like get married or live with him.. would you?”

You hummed softly as you adjusted, slumping back against him, chin on his shoulder, he was ridged, tense, dreading your response though he would never admit it. Your hands gently ran up and down his bare arms, feeling where texture changed, fingers circling softly, drawing little patterns on him. Something you had learned soothed him.

“No”

“What?”

He hadn’t expected that reply. There was no hesitation, no reasons to why either just a straight blunt no. He flicked his used-up cig out the window, his hands pulling you back slowly so he could stare at you, he narrowed his eyes, reading your face.

“No?” He repeated.

“I got into this relationship knowing it was always going to be the three of us and even if I changed my mind about that later… I would just remove myself I could never take either of you from the other” You sighed and kissed his chin, reaching higher until you placed a soft kiss to his lips.

“Besides…”

Both of you looked over to where a very naked Hawks stood, stretching his arms above his head, wings twitching from his full bodies yawn. The large grin plastered on his face would suggest he had been awake longer then either you or Dabi had realized. The blond stood behind you, crouching a little as arms and wings cradled you and Dabi close to him.

“I’d never make them pick and I could never picture my life or bed without either one of you. I understand you have issues Toya but we’ve come this far and I’m not breaking the law for nothing” He laughed ruffling the Dabi’s hair earning a grunt and having his hand slapped.

“Exactly” You nodded.

“You know we love the dark brooding angst shit but come back to bed yeah?”

Maybe he did deserve more then he had been told all his life…

#mha #mha dabi #dabi x reader #hawks x reader #dabi x gender neutral reader #hawks x gender neutral reader #mha reader insert #bnha reader insert #sfw #hawks x dabi x reader #bnha smut

[shoutaaizawas]

↳ bakugou katsuki x reader → ❝wait for you❞ part one

summary: bakugou is your best friend, you both dream to become great heroes. when bakugou ends up in a coma most move on but you can’t leave your best friend behind.  word count: 2k+ tags/warnings: romance, angst (with a happy ending eventually),  a/n: im alive! sort of. finally finished one of my many wips in between watching greys anatomy. shoutout to the show for some inspiration for this. those background patient plot lines hurt sometimes.

Bakugou Katsuki was your best friend. That might be hard for a lot of people to believe considering how hostile he could be sometimes. Most would describe him as feisty and unfriendly but there was always something that drew you to him. From the first day at UA, you knew he was going to be your best friend even if he didn’t want to at first.

It didn’t take long for him to start liking you back even if he refused to admit it. It was impossible for him to deny that it was nice to be cared about and it was harder to deny that he cared about you. It was something he never expected, to care about someone so much that when you missed a meal he would be shoving food in front of you, or if you were staying up too late he would force you to go to bed early. Even the smallest things about you concerned him.

The two of you made the perfect pair, you helped each other train and study. When he went through his worse times you were there for him, through the nightmares, through the panic attacks, you helped him when he didn’t want anyone to see him.

Bakugou wasn’t your only friend but your relationship with him meant everything to you. Your friendship with him ran deep. He was your person. He was the first person you thought about every day, he was the first person you told good news to, the first person you went to when you were upset.

Your friendship was everything to you and you always imagined it meant a lot to him as well.

Throughout the school years, it only got deeper. It was finally your last year of high school and you and Bakugou were both on track to become amazing heroes. Both of you had worked so hard to be at the top of your class and it was almost time to go into the real hero world. You had even both secured spots at the top agency you had been eyeing for a long time.

You wondered if you would be partners at your agency? That would be too perfect. Both of you had bright futures ahead of you but one day took that away.

It was a normal day, you and Bakugou were working your intern patrol shift. It was sunny but not too hot and things were reasonably calm. There were a few crimes to keep things interesting but nothing too dangerous. It was a good day.

The two of you were eating lunch, you had gotten your favorite sushi for lunch despite the fact that Bakugou wanted to get ramen. But fair was fair and you had won your game of rock, paper, scissors.

That’s when the chaos broke out. A villain was attacking and you both sprung into action without a second thought. It was going well as it usually did, you worked together flawlessly. A perfect team. That was until Bakugou took a hit neither of you saw coming.

The sight of him tumbling across the pavement made you sick. You quickly subdued the villain before running to Bakugou’s side. He was laying on the ground face down. You turned him over, his face was covered in blood. Your heart sunk at the sight of him, eyes half open and face bruised.

Sirens alerted them to the arrival of the ambulances.

“Katsuki, you’re gonna be okay. Don’t move, help is here.” You said, hand brushing against his face.

“I-” He said, his voice hushed. “Sunshine I-”

Sunshine. The nickname started out condescending, an insult almost but somewhere along the line it became endearing. A pet name almost.

“Shh, it’s okay. Don’t strain yourself, please.” You said, grabbing his hand squeezing it tight. “You’re going to be okay.”

Bakugou was put on a stretcher and rushed to an ambulance, you rode with them trying to stay calm as they helped him. You held back asking questions not wanting to interrupt.

Bakugou’s red eyes stayed focused on you as you held his hand while trying to stay out of the way.

“It’s going to be okay, you have to be okay. You’re my best friend.” You said. “I don’t know what I’d do without you. Katsuki I-”

Bakugou’s eyes slipped closed and it was hard not to tear up in fear. You wanted to tell him how you felt but you hesitated and now he couldn't hear you. Your heart raced in your chest. He would be fine, he always was. He was a fighter and he always pulled through.

Waiting was the worst thing anyone could sit through is the conclusion you came to. Sitting in the hospital’s waiting room staring at the patterned tile you were suffering. The thought of Bakugou in an operating room opened up hurt you to your core. The urge to sob was strong but you refused to. Bakugou would be okay and he would tease you endlessly if he found out that you cried over him.

Bakugou would be fine. You knew he would. He had to be.

Mr. and Mrs. Bakugou showed up, looking more scared than you had ever seen them before. You were familiar with his parents, they had invited you over many times for dinner and they always got along with you.

“What did they say?” Bakugou’s mother asked as she approached you, she grabbed your arms frantically.

“He’s in surgery, they aren’t saying much.” You told her. She let out a sigh sitting down next to you.

Time went by slowly as the three of you waited impatiently. Finally, the doctor appeared.

“Bakugou family?” He asked.

“Yes, that’s us.” Ms. Bakugou stood up along with you and her husband.

“The surgery went well, we were able to fix the trauma and bleeding in his brain. He’s patched up but there was swelling during the surgery.” The doctor said solemnly, his hands held together.

“What does that mean?” Mr. Bakugou questioned.

“The likelihood of him waking up is very low.” He said.

It felt like everything around you was falling apart.

“What do you mean he won’t wake up?” Mrs. Bakugou shouted. “If you fixed everything, what’s wrong with him?”

The doctor began to explain it but everything around you went fuzzy. You couldn’t hear anything, you felt sick. Before you could do anything else you ran outside of the hospital making it to a tree before throwing up.

Bakugou wouldn’t wake up. He was alive but he wasn’t going to wake up. The next year of your life was so clear in your mind, graduating, working beside Bakugou, climbing the ranks, becoming amazing heroes. Together. It was all gone, how were you supposed to go on without him? You couldn't picture your life without him.

You stood in front of his hospital room door still. If you stepped through that door you knew that it was over. The image of Bakugou standing strong next to you ready to face the world would be gone. The reality of what happened would set in and you could never go back.

It was easy to picture him, picture those moments with him. The first time you met him, you were both so young. He was so feisty and unwilling to befriend anyone. The memory of him yelling at everyone around you.

You could remember the day you had gotten through to him, had a heart to heart. His red eyes looked so soft for the first time and you knew that you would do anything to keep his trust in you so he would always feel safe enough to open up to you.

The memory of him in his dorm, scared and breathing quick after a nightmare. You had crawled into bed with him and held him. He protested at first but quickly realized you were more stubborn than him this time. Then he realized how nice it felt to be held by someone who cared about you, who wanted you to feel better. How safe he felt in your arms. The softness of his blond locks was unforgettable.

This morning was so clear, Bakugou in his hero costume laughing at a dumb joke you made. You would never see him stand tall again. You took a deep breath.

Softly you opened the door revealing the hospital bed. The sound of beeps filled the room. Walking up to the bed you took in a shaky breath.

Bakugou laid in the bed hooked up to wires. The side of his hair was shaved, where the surgery was. He was still, the steady rise and fall of his chest was the only sign of life. He looked so peaceful.

You sat in the chair beside the bed, head in your hands, a broken sob coming out of you.

“You have to wake up.” You said looking up at him, taking his hand in yours. “I know you can pull through this, I can’t do this alone. What kind of hero would I be without you?”

There was no reply to your cries.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry I let this happen." You cried. "I'm sorry we didn't get what you wanted for lunch. If I could go back, if I could do everything different I would. I wish it was me."

Tears streamed down your face as sobs wracked your body.

"You're my best friend, you're my everything." You cried.

Everything felt empty. Time passed, life moved on. Your friends, your fellow students tried to console you while they grappled with the fact that Bakugou wasn’t around anymore. Your teachers looked at you with sad eyes, knowing that these things came with hero work but you were far too young to be dealing with it.

Graduating, something you had looked forward to for so long tasted like ash in your mouth. Standing there with your classmates taking pictures, everything was numb. All you could see was Bakugou laying in that hospital bed unmoving.

Life moved on but you felt like you stood still. You started working at the agency and you worked hard doing your best. The only thing you could do was be the best hero you could be to prevent people from getting hurt like Bakugou did. Even as you progressed and life moved on you felt like time was frozen.

After every shift you visited him, you would bring your dinner with you and eat in his room. You would tell him about your day. On good days you could convince yourself he could hear you.

Time moved on and less people visited. Your fellow students got busy with their hero careers. His parents visited on the weekends, Aizawa would visit once a month. Sometimes you ran into him. The two of you would sit there in silence.

“Do you visit him a lot?” Aizawa asked.

“Everyday.” You answered. “Almost every single day.”

“Why?” He asked, his gaze not moving from his former student.

“He’s my best friend. I can’t stand the thought of him sitting here alone.” You answered, a tear dripping down your cheek. “If he was awake I know we would see each other every day, it feels wrong to not see him. Even if he is asleep, even if he doesn’t know I’m here. I can't go without him, even if he's just laying here.”

“I understand.” He said.

Aizawa didn’t explain but you knew deep down he understood how you felt.

It took time, you had a lot of time to think when you weren't talking out loud to Bakugou's unconscious body.  It took time but you finally realized something.

You loved Bakugou Katsuki.

Not just the way someone loves their friend, no something deeper than that. Why else would someone spend every day with their unconscious friend? Even as years passed.

Looking back it all made sense, how validating it felt to tell Bakugou about the highs and lows of your life.  How much you focused on the small touches between you and him. How the thought of not spending the rest of your life with him tore you apart.

How had it taken you so long to realize?

Everything about him made you feel alive. His shining qualities, his flaws, his quirks, everything about him made you happy.  You loved him so deeply, how had you never known?

You loved Bakugou Katsuki and it was too late to do anything about it.

Years passed. Your career progressed, you climbed the hero charts and you became the hero you and Bakugou always aimed to be. Even if you had made it to the thing you wanted more than anything else in life it felt empty.

All you wanted was your best friend there with you. You wanted to tell him how you felt. Not just his unconscious body. You felt like a ghost, all of your friends lived their lives but you couldn’t enjoy it. You didn’t go out with them, you spent all your time with Bakugou at his bedside.

Every day you hoped, prayed he would wake up.

Time was an odd thing, getting old felt wrong. You looked older and so did Bakugou even if he laid there unmoving all this time. His hair was longer than it had been but you kept up with it. The nurses let you trim his hair, shave his facial hair when you had the time. It made you feel a little less helpless.

It had been a long day, a bad day. People died, people, you should have saved. You should have been fast enough, you should have been a better hero.

Sitting next to Bakugou you told him about your day.

“I moved, I reached to grab them but I wasn’t fast enough.” You said. “They died because I wasn’t fast enough.”

The tears streamed down your face. You reached forward grabbing his hand.

“You're here in this bed because I wasn’t fast enough, I was a bad partner I should have saved you. I should have taken the hit for you. I wish it was me in this bed, I wish I was dead.” You sobbed, breaths heavy it felt like you were suffocating. You were drowning, you had been since that day.

The sounds of your sobs were loud, your hand limply grasping at his. Your breathing stopped at the movement under your hand.

“Katsuki?” Your voice was barely above a whisper as you looked up at him. His eyes fluttered under his eyelids.

part two

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[thepriceofbeingaroseisloneliness]

TOSHIYA AT JOE YOKOMIZO CHANNEL 4TH FEB TRANSLATION/NOTES 4/4

Joe Yokomizo Channel

Guest: Toshiya (Dir en grey)

Notes before reading: This is the translation/notes of the livestream on Joe’s Niconico channel with Toshiya as a guest last 4th February.  This is part 4. The livestream was one hour and fifty min approx. This part covers the last 20 minutes. The livestream is no longer available at Joe Yokomizo Channel but you can check the translation of the previous parts at my tumblr. Feel free to correct me if you spot any mistake or any confusing parts.

Links or credits to this post when the content is reposted or captured in other SNS are appreciated ------------------ (First part here) (Second part here) (Third part here) Joe: That’s it. I’m going to ask you…. They are asking.... how do the other members call you, Toshiya… Toshiya: Mostly….”Toshiya”…. Joe: Toshiya? Toshiya: Yes Joe: Just “Toshiya”. Toshiya: That’s it… maybe sometimes…..they say it in an easy way….it’s not like like they attach anything (suffix) like -kun or -chan to my name….they say it in a normal way…. Joe: “Toshiya”, “Toshiya”…. What ice cream are you recently addicted to? Toshiya: Recently… Joe: That’s the question… Toshiya: Recently….somehow….as I’m lazy… Joe: You are lazy….yes, yes, you said that at the beginning of the program…. Toshiya: As expected….I gained a bit of weight…. Joe: *surprised* It doesn’t look like that at all… Toshiya: Now…..I lost some weight… Joe: You did? Toshiya: I did….so I’m not eating sweet things now… Joe: Now you are not eating sweet things…. Toshiya: Yes Joe: I see…. that’s why he is not eating ice creams recently!..... Toshiya: I don’t… Joe: These kind of questions are a bit harsh but if you have to choose….tsubuan (coarse sweet bean paste) or koshian (fine-grained sweet bean paste)? Toshiya:*Enthusiastically* I like both! Joe: You like both…. Toshiya: But I would say koshian? Joe: If you had to choose, it would be koshian….now there is a question related to The Freedom of Expression, a youtube program I do with Kaoru. “Joe also does  The Freedom of Expression with Kaoru. I would like to hear any stories with Kaoru”. Toshiya: With Kaoru?....well…..mmmmm……*chuckles*…. Kaoru…..Surprisingly, there are many stories of just the two of us that would make you laugh…. Joe: I see…. stories that you can’t tell here…. Toshiya: *nods* That’s right… yes yes….*laughs*…mmmmmm….that’s right…..*laughs* Joe: That’s it….*laughs* Toshiya: Surprisingly…. Joe: Surprisingly…. Toshiya: Unexpectedly…. Joe: I get it… They both laugh. Toshiya: It’s like….I feel like maybe they might be not so open-minded….. Joe:  You can’t…..that’s it…. it would be many grow-up/adult conversations….. Toshiya: *laughs* Grow-up/adult conversations…. Joe: That’s ok… Toshiya: That’s it….but something really…..it applies to the other members as well…..they are all caring/considerate people….they are really like that….what I hate the most when I’m drinking….what I hate the most is people who are in bands that talks shit about other members…. Joe: I see Toshiya: I really hate that…. Joe: I can’t stand that… Toshiya: It’s like…..(they act) as it is ok to talk shit/say bad things when you drink…..much less about members…. Joe: Talking about another member…. Toshiya: I’m like….”I think you should stop doing that”…. Joe: Like “you should speak face-to-face”….it feels like something you should say directly to the members…. Toshiya: I hate that kind of thing….some people say stuff like that sometimes….it’s such a turn-off…. Joe: It really kills the mood….that’s totally it…..because no one chose the band members for you….you are playing in that band because you want to…. Toshiya: That’s it…. Joe: That’s it…..but that happens…..I see…. Toshiya: Before this, at a Liberal Democratic Party meeting…..they took a questionnaire, they weren’t complaining about the organization but they were many people who didn’t like it (the questionnaire). Because they are all adults, right? To some extend, I feel that  it’s important that you see things from a rational point of view…. *Liberal Democratic Party (LDP) is a conservative political party in Japan that has almost continuously been in power since its foundation in 1955.   Joe: Certainly….the good thing about rock….of course it has an aggressive/offensive side but, in the end rock is something positive, isn’t it? Toshiya: That’s right… Joe: Because it’s the power of the people what pushes your forward…. Toshiya: Thereby, you are pushed forward by others…. Joe: Right…. So even if there are things that you might hate about it, to me, the power of rock is finding the good things/side…. Toshiya: That’s right….Taking that direction is rather easier…. Joe: For sure….

Toshiya: The things that you don’t like…..it’s like they become invisible… Joe: Right… Toshiya: It’s better not to see them…. Joe:  True… Toshiya: Even though I can see them…. Joe: That’s right…. Toshiya: I’m being too honest/serious…. Joe: No,no….that’s important….. Then I have the following question…. What protein do you drink? Toshiya: Protein?.....Sabas….

Joe: Sabas?...... Toshiya: Yes Joe:  Is that so?  Sabas? Toshiya: The blue one mostly….I’ve been drinking it recently to lose weight…. Joe: I see….what shampoo or hair product do you use? Toshiya: Shampoo?....mmmmm…what it would be…..about that….surprisingly I use the ones  I get from fans…. Joe: Is that so? You don’t use specific ones…..I’m already at that point….As I’m already 52 years old….*takes off his hat* they told me that my hair is at stage 4, hair restoration is hard….I’m using a hair growth formula that costs 6000 yen per bottle. *The stages of male pattern baldness are measured on a scale from 1 to 7. By stage 4, there is significant hair loss. Toshiya: If you are getting bald, it can’t be helped right? Joe: There is nothing you can do…. What would you do?....if you go bald… Toshiya: Well….mmmm…. I would shave my hair off…. Joe: You would shave it off? I think it would look good on you…. Toshiya: If you think about it, there is nothing that you can do…. Joe: Certainly….*laughs*…..Certainly….I’m going to ask you another question, because we have so many….What was your nickname when you were a kid?.... Toshiya: When I was a kid?.....what was it?....mmmmm….usually….I wonder….I don’t remember it…. Joe: You don’t remember? Ohhh Toshiya: Mmmmm…..*starts laughing suddenly*… this was interesting though…..*laughs* Joe: What is it? Why are you already laughing?….. Toshiya: I’m sorry…..*laughs*….I’m really sorry…. Joe: It’s ok…. Toshiya: This is again about Shinya…. Joe: It’s fine…. Toshiya: Shinya, don’t get mad….I think it’s ok because he told it himself but…. Joe: It’s ok…. Toshiya: When he was asked what was his nickname in the past…..he said it was “liar”….. Joe:* Burst into laugther* That’s so bad….as a person….it’s too amusing…. Toshiya: For real….I really think they are all interesting people….. Joe: It's hard for him to talk much, isn’t it? Does he talk a lot? When I asked him, he just answers……he was amazing…..”liar”….. Toshiya: *laughs* “Liar”…. Joe: Amazing….. Well we are getting closer to the end of the program….. What is your favorite song from Dir en grey? Toshiya: Mmm….I wonder…..I like all of them….I feel strongly about all of them… Joe: I see… Toshiya: I feel strongly about them…..I really feel strongly…. When I think about them…..the feelings and the state of mind of the time (when they were done)….. Joe: Every song……all of them were fun to make but it seems that it was also hard…. Toshiya: Yes, that’s it….that’s true… Joe: Right?....if you play them at a live…..various memories will come…. Toshiya: That’s right…. Most of them were hard….. Joe: Making songs…..that’s such a hard thing….but the fact that there are people who will listen to them, people who are waiting for those songs…. Toshiya: What makes me the happiest about making songs, it’s that for a person, it will become something memorable even if is left in the past….. Joe: Something that will be there…. Toshiya: The feeling that you had when you listened to that song will remain. Like….somehow….any occasion….like a dir en grey album was released at the time you were cleaning the closets and you were listening to it….things like that….that someone was listening to it at moments like those….I’m really grateful. If this can become a page in a person’s life, I’m really grateful. Joe: That's a really nice thing, isn’t it? Toshiya: Time ago…. I was drinking with Baba from Dragon Ash…. Joe: Oh Baba….. Baba who passed away….. *They are talking about Ikuzo Baba “Ikuzone”,  Dragon Ash’s bassist, who passed away in 2012. Toshiya and Ikuzone were interviewed and appeared together at the cover of Bass Magazine No. 228 June 2010* Toshiya: He said that……if you are not forgotten…..you will be able to live forever…. Joe: I see… Toshiya: Baba said this talking about Hide….. Joe: Is that so? Toshiya: If you are forgotten…..I don’t think you will be able to live…. Joe: Well, Baba is still living in us, isn’t he? Toshiya: Of course he is. Those words that he said to me….even now…..those words resonate with me…. Joe: Certainly…..those words  are really good…aren’t they? Toshiya: I think those words were very Baba-ish…. Joe: Certainly…..because the music will remain forever….even if you forget about it for a moment….it may now always be part of  your playlists….but it will come out eventually… Toshiya: That’s right…..somehow…..mmmmm…. I want you to listen to Dir en grey forever…..*laughs* Joe: Of course… Toshiya: I want that to happen but I don’t know (if it will happen)……but……if it bring you memories of that time….that….makes me really happy and grateful…. Joe: I see…..everybody is taking this chance to write the dir en grey songs they like at the comments…..there are many comments appearing on screen…..lastly….there is one more questionnaire for Toshiya….February 2021 has just started….. the emergency state has been extended and we are all in a difficult situation but…..I wonder what are his goals, dreams or plans for this year……ah! Amazing *points at the comments* Thank you for writing so many comments…. Toshiya: Thank you… Joe: All of them…..”Yokan”…. I see…..”Child Prey”….there are many songs there….”Ranunculus”….ahh, Ranunculus is such a great song…..I really like “Ranunculus”…. Toshiya: Ah….it’s really a good song…. Joe: It’s an amazing song…..”Ningen wo Kaburu”…..write more, write more…..we are looking at your comments while we are drinking….please, we are going to use a paper sheet again….*pointing at the notebook on the floor* Toshiya: Ah,yes….*picks it* Joe: About this year….. something like a close goal….you said you were lazy  a while ago but….I want you to think about a positive keyword for 2021….amazing….you all are writing a lot of comments….”Lotus” is there too….amazing….”Rinkaku”….they are writing many songs…..”Zakuro”…..that’s a great song……”Utafumi”….thats a more recent song…..it’s a good song too….. Toshiya:  Somehow…..the songs that we have made…..probably…. Honestly, I can’t say  that Dir en grey is going to be there forever…. I always think about it as walking on thin ice….honestly….somehow….when Dir en grey is gone…..the things that we did….like our legacy…..I think that would be the songs after all….. Joe: I see…. Toshiya: If we are remembered that way…..I would be really thankful….. Joe: That’s right….they are writing “please don’t be gone”…..of course that’s what we all want, that Dir en grey never ends... Toshiya: Of course…. Joe: Of course no one wants Dir en grey to disappear, I’m not saying it with that intention….. Toshiya: I don’t think about it but I can’t promise…..I can’t do that…. Joe: That’s right…..because a band it’s a miracle…. Toshiya: I think so… Joe: Many things you do are miracles…..because not many people can do that… Toshiya: I don’t know….All this….I really just cant do it (by myself)…. Joe: That’s why I think it’s so great that you can perform and produce things…. Toshiya: I agree…. Joe: Definitely, there will a tomorrow and a day after tomorrow…. Toshiya: I agree… Joe: Yes…. Toshiya: That’s it….So, at this time with Corona going on…. I have thought about a lot of things inside my head….but after all, I thought about what was the most negative thing about this situation for me….when I thought about that…..I think the most negative thing for me is that the activities of these 5 people  are reduced…. Joe: I see…. Toshiya: I don’t think it will last forever….I think that the other members feel the same than me…of course, I want to continue doing this as long as I’m alive…. Joe: Of course… Toshiya: I don’t know…. Joe: Yes… Toshiya: With that in mind, last year…..2020….somehow we could only do things as a band at the beginning of the year…that’s it….I feel like  the time of these five people doing things  together has been dramatically reduced……that’s really…..I think it’s very frustrating/annoying….. Joe: I see. That’s why I’m sure the next single is going to be amazing and strong….something that it’s going to make you think hard…. Toshiya: I want it to be something that remains…. Joe: Also the concert screening tour is going to start soon….I hope that everyone as well while believing in every moment, support it… So, what kind of goals or thoughts has Toshiya for 2021? What ideas has installed into his heart? I told him to express them in one kanji…please take a look…. Toshiya: It’s a bit so-so…. Toshiya shows the kanji he wrote. Joe: There it is…. Toshiya: Yes Toshiya wrote “動” (motion). Joe: “Motion” Toshiya: *Laughs* “Motion”…..yes….. Joe: Yes…movement…. Toshiya: Movement….that’s the main thing……I think it’s the main thing right now….unless something “moves”….I knew that nothing was going to happen last year but this year I want us “to move” as much as possible….as much as possible….Of course I want to meet the fans ( at a concert) again but over all, I want  the five of us to move forward…. Joe: That’s good… Toshiya: That’s the main thing I want….. Joe: The band moving forward..…. please everyone look forward to that….the concert screening tour will start soon and although the release date hasn’t been set yet, a new single will be released in the spring. The next action has already begun in pre-production, so when the situation allows it, we all can meet at the live venue again…. Toshiya: That’s it….really…..I want them to come but honestly I can’t tell them to come….that’s it…..if something happens, it’s going to be the hardest thing for us….somehow….that something happens to the people who say that like Dir en grey….that’s the thing I hate the most… Joe: That’s right… that something happens to the people who loves you…..that’s the worst…. Toshiya: It is….it’s the worst…. Joe: For real… Toshiya: For real, I really hate it… Joe: That's right. That's why we should take good measures against infection. We are still in a difficult situation at this time….at an emotional level too…..and after all, I think that some people are also feeling (emotionally) weak…. Toshiya: That’s why that I got this opportunity to be here….that you all are watching this….it make me happy… Joe: Well, finally, what was promised….he’ll take off his sunglasses and say goodbye…but before….next week a new program will be broadcasted….next week Shinya from LUNA SEA…. Toshiya: Oh! Joe: He’ll come to the program…. Toshiya:  A big senpai…. Joe: Isn’t he? He got infected with Corona virus…. Toshiya: Ah, that’s it….it surprised me… Joe: The concert they had at the end of the year had to be suspended…. Toshiya:  That’s right….that some people said you did something bad/wrong… Joe: That’s right…. Toshiya: So  that you ended up like that (infected with the virus)…. Joe: It’s not like he was doing it on his own….but on the contrary, it seems that Shinya also seems to have thought about that, about all the things he did around that time…. Toshiya: It’s really…..to blame someone for that…. Joe: That’s definitely wrong… Toshiya: I think it’s nonsense… Joe: I think that everyone here thinks the same about this….*pointing at the comments* they didn’t do anything wrong….anything wrong….its seems that everyone here knows that…. As for Toshiya, you said you would come after the single is released and you will sing “Jesus” with you sunglasses off… this was decided today…. Toshiya: But it must get the approval of LUNA SEA members….if they don’t approve it, I won’t do it…. Joe: I will get it!.... Toshiya: No,no… Joe: I’m going to get the label president confirmation…. Toshiya: *Laughs* Sakanoue? *Masatoshi Sakanoue is Luna Sea’s  executive producer* Joe:  Sakanoue….*nods* I’m going to ask for his approval… Toshiya: Nooo…..*raises his arms and squeals*….stop it…. Joe: I’m going to confirm it with him…. I’m going to get his approval Toshiya:*Laughs* For real?....I’ll play bass!… Joe: No, no….anything it’s ok but you have to sing…..the bass….it’s going to be like “he is playing bass as always”…. Toshiya: It's really embarrassing….if you could insert some blurring effect/pixelating…. Joe: I’ll! I will insert some blurring with a mosaic effect….but you have to sing….you can play the bass too if you want…. Toshiya: And some…for the voice…..how is it call?...that thing that changes it… Joe: To change it…..some voice distortion….like if you were interrogating…. Toshiya: That thing that makes your voice super high…. Joe: “It’s decided, he’ll sing while playing the bass”…..everyone is so spoiled…… Toshiya: Yes… Joe: Well, finally…at the end of the program he is going to take off his sunglasses and say goodbye to all of you….*Toshiya is about to get the sunglasses off but it’s stopped by Joe* First the message….then you take off the sunglasses at the end when you say bye bye to them…. Toshiya: Well….today was….arggg…..I really hate this *cleans the sweat of his fronthead* I’m sweating a lot…. Joe:*Laughs*I’m sorry…. Toshiya: It was really fun…. Joe: Thank you…. Toshiya: If you laughed watching this…..that would be the best….that would be the best now…we would be thankful for that and it would make us happy….Yes, that’s it. Next time I’ll come after the releasing of “Oboro” and we’ll have a good drink with you all again…. Joe: Yes… Toshiya: Thank you for today….. Joe: Thank you for watching…. Well, while he says goodbye after taking his sunglasses off, I want to thank you for today. *Toshiya laughs and takes his sunglasses off* Tonight’s guest was Toshiya from Dir en grey! Thank you for watching! Toshiya: Thank you for watching! *waves* Joe: Bye, bye! *clapping* Toshiya is on screen, shyly, waving goodbye and then covers his face with his hands. The image fades and the logo of the channel appears. *Thank you for reading :)*

#dir en grey #toshiya #Joe Yokomizo #joe yokomizo channel #translation #niconico #livestream #toshiyatranslations

[yandere-daydreams]

requests are open!!! what about a soft yandere fairy with a darling that accidentally wanders into their forest and won't let them leave? thank u sm!

I’ve never been able to resist a classic Yandere!Fae who can’t seem to understand why their lovely little Darling won’t give them a name and volunteer their free will without a struggle. It’s nice to be soft for a change, too, if only for the dialogue.

Title: Creation and Control.

TW: Imprisonment and Mind-Control.

~

You chose not to dance, tonight.

It wasn’t because you had anything better to do. The fae could hunt, they could harvest and maintain their make-shift homes and do whatever they wished once the sun slipped low in the sky, but as a human, a guest who’d been forced to overstay their welcome, you could only choose between joining one of the swirling, ever-growing circles or not doing so. For whatever reason, you’d picked the latter, taking a seat on a fallen tree-trunk and watching as strangers without names laughed and smiled and sobbed, some of them unfamiliar, and others prisoners like yourself, unable to leave because of magic or fate or in your case, a golden elixir you hadn’t known better than to drink. A goblet of it sat at your feet, now, but you didn’t pay it any mind. If only for the sake of protecting your pride.

Despite this, your attention dropped to the grail as a familiar figure started to approach, heavy footsteps muffled by the soft glass of the clearing. You didn’t have to greet him or be greeted in return, not when there was only one person who dared to speak to you.  Who bothered to speak to you, really. It wasn’t like a conversation with someone else’s personal pet would draw much interest, not from a group that had already seen so many of your kind come and go.

You only looked up when a long, lean hand came to rest on your shoulder, pressing down for a moment before you gave in, tilting your head back and letting your eyes meet the swirls of green and gold just beginning to pry into you. Durin, although that was more of a title than a name. The warden to your prison of trees and mushrooms and enchanting, unnerving smiles.

He spoke first. He always did. You were an object to be addressed, here, rather than one expected to speak out of turn. “My dear,” He started, already sliding a thin wooden comb in your waiting hand. “Indulge me and I promise, you won’t be pestered again until sunrise.”

You didn’t need further instruction. You pulled your legs onto the trunk and Durin lowered himself into the space they’d once occupied, soon sitting outstretched in front of you. It was a mind-numbing activity, braiding a head of long, pale hair into whatever dizzying pattern its owner requested, but you had plenty of practice, both from the task you were currently performing and the less patient stallions you used to care for on your family’s farm. You wondered if anyone took up to responsibility, now that you weren’t there to carry it out. You wondered if anyone even noticed you were gone. “It’s not difficult,” You mumbled, running your comb through a series of non-existent knots. “You could learn to do this yourself, if you wanted to. It’d be faster than coming to me.”

“I could, hypothetically, but I’m afraid we monsters don’t share your talents.” He paused, letting out a pleased hum as your blunt nails scraped idly against his scalp. “Hunting braids, perhaps, but nothing so…” He trailed off, rolling two fingers in a vague, arbitrary gesture. “Nothing so pointless. The Gods blessed us with many things, but alas, no one thought to add ‘creation’ to that list.”

Your response was delayed. You’d heard of their curse before, in tales of the suffering that was said to accompany any slight endeavor into turning one thing into another, but you’d never quite believed it. You supposed it was fitting, though. Durin didn’t seem like the kind of refined soul who would dwell in the sparsely decorated cave he called a home for any reason less than necessity. “I hardly think brushing your own hair would incur divine wrath.”

“If you can break one rule, you’re bound to break the rest. I wouldn’t be reduced to a pile of smoldering ash, but I doubt the consequences would be pleasant,” He explained, twisting to his side just enough to see you without disturbing the three tangled trails you were desperately trying to guide to an agreeable meeting point. “Are you trying to say you don’t enjoy my company, love?”

You didn’t answer him. With a particularly harsh tug to the strand you were holding, you forced him to wince, freeing you from his gaze with minimal effort. “And that’s why I’m here?” You asked, the words more a declaration of grudging recognition than a real question. “To braid your hair and tend to your every need, because you’re so tragically unable to?”

At that, he seemed to take offense, leaning back and into your lap, spoiling your progress as carelessly as he’d demanded it. You could see his face, like this, an expression of defined lines and pointed ears and traits that weren’t quite not uncanny. You might’ve said there was a hint of a collar bone beneath his loose tunic, but there could be no hints, not with Durin. He was the romantic interpretation of a man, something that got so close to being a perfect replica, but whose creator was too fond of embellishments to truly design something real. You could accept that you’d once thought of him as human, but you couldn’t forgive yourself for holding onto that belief for so long. Others in his entourage their otherness more obvious, decorating themselves with horns and hooves and whatever they liked, and while Durin was less apparent, he made no attempt to hide his wrongness. His grin, suddenly full of pointed, predatory teeth, was enough to prove that.

“You’re here because I want you to be.” He never looked away, never blinked, and abruptly, it occurred to you that he might not have to. “You’re here because I saw a young, vulnerable human wandering through my territory, following the calls of members of my court, and I decided to take pity on what should’ve been the main course of our next feast. And, because I’ve come to care for you despite your doubt, you will remain here. Allowing you to dote on me is just another privilege I’m kind enough to provide.”

It wasn’t the first time you’d had this conversation. It wasn’t the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last, and you knew that. As well as you knew the color of the sky and the time of day, you knew that. You knew it, and yet, you found yourself frowning, stiffening, gritting your teeth as you resisted the urge to shove him away. “If you were kind, you would let me go. You know I don’t want to be here.”

His smile wavered, then dropped. “I don’t think I like your tone.”

“I don’t think I like being a hostage.” You didn’t try to stop yourself, pushing him off of your lap and fleeing from your informal, ruined haven. You had to force yourself to breathe, to inahle and exhale and make yourself calm down, but even that did little to calm your temper, only making you feel more like a child attempting to express their discontent. “You trapped me here. You took me someplace I don’t wish to be, and now, I can’t leave. How is that kind? How are you guiltless--”

“(Y/n).”

It was a silent command. You could feel it, something vile forcing its way into your veins and solidifying, rendering you speechless and paralyzed as Durin shook his head, letting out a ragged sigh before he bothered to raise a hand, gesturing for you to come to him. You didn’t have a choice, your movements rigid and your thoughts barely your own, but your body was quick to obey him, to stumble its way to its captor and fall into his lap the moment he expressed his desire for you to do so. His control faded as his arms wrapped around you, but Durin didn’t act to reinstate it, only reaching behind him and pushing something small and solid into your palm.

The comb. Sleek and wooden and so, so awful. You were tempted to cry, if only in frustration.

But, you didn’t try to resist.

Instead, you choked down your complaints and began working where you left off, attempting to ignore the contented, toothy smile now pressing into your skin.

#yandere #yandere love #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere prompt #yandere prompts #yandere oneshot #yandere oneshots #yandere drabble #yandere drabbles #yandere scenerio #yandere scenarios #yandere imagines #yandere imagine #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere ocs #yandere fae #yandere monster #yandere monster x reader #yandere fairy tale #yandere fairy #yandere fairytale #yandere fantasy #yandere fanfiction #yandere core #yanderecore #yancore

[13atoms]

Grit (Javier Peña x F!Agent!Reader)

This is my first time writing for Narcos, but I really liked Peña as a character, so here we are. I might do a second part of this, let me know what you think!

Friends-to-lovers, set during s2, no smut but canon-typical nsfw. [4.9k]

*

You sighed, then coughed out a delirious laugh, as the news crackled through Murphy’s radio.

It had been yet another trap, yet another informant you couldn’t trust, yet another victory for Escobar. You, Murphy and Peña were sat in a tense little circle, huddled around Javi’s messy desk. The evening had lasted forever, a whole carton of smokes crumbled into the ash tray, each of you nursing headaches from clenched jaws, palms sweaty, tired of the endless threats from Steve to go and join the agents in the field.

Each stutter of noise on the radio had signalled a new round of tense glances between the three of you, notes scribbled down, short fingernails carving half-moon into palms.

Then, it was over. No fatalities on any side seemed a small miracle, but you knew Javi took no pleasure in hearing that the enemy hadn’t lost anyone either. Shot and bleeding and bruised, every bastard who had walked into that fight managed to scramble away. The transmission from the scene finished curtly, and you felt the three of you deflate.

“Fuck,” Peña muttered.

Murphy slamming his closed fists onto the desk painfully hard.

You exhaled, reeling from the whole evening, stretching back in your chair and wondering what the hell this meant for tomorrow.

“Again,” you sighed, hearing the other agents grunt in shared frustration.

Leaning forward you perched your elbows on the desk, throwing your notes away from you in disgust, letting your head fall into your hands. Your eyes ached, your very bones feeling unimaginably fragile as your muscles untensed and your heart fought to restore calm to your body. It was no good. Adrenaline like this would last hours.

Murphy grabbed his gun from the desk, kicked his chair away as he stood, storming from the room. When you looked up to Javier, worried about what the stupid bastard might do, he just rolled his eyes.

You had a sneaking suspicion that the three of you would be spending your pay checks on whiskey that night.

“Fucking hell,” you declared, more to fill the silence than anything else.

Peña gave a strange little laugh, shaking his head. He copied you, elbows on the table, letting his forehead fall heavily to his palms with the weary exhaustion which had plagued all of you since you first heard the name Escobar.

“What a shit show.”

You nodded in agreement, aching eyes closed. Each blink felt like it would scratch, the darkness of the office only broken by the shitty fluorescent light which created a tiny island of life around Peña’s desk. Everyone else was on the raid, or at home.

Sensible.

“We have to get him. One day. That bastard can’t run forever.”

Peña’s hum of agreement had no conviction, it was as uncertain as you felt, but you liked to imagine he really believed you.

You could feel your body giving up on you, so deprived of everything human for so long in pursuit of a man who always managed to escape back into the shadows. Hunger gnawed at your stomach, the muggy heat parched your lips, your head ached from the smokiness of the room and the sleep which evaded you more and more these days. Your skin felt dirty, no matter how often you washed, stained with guilt and the rivers of blood which ran through Bogotá. It didn’t matter how often Peña told you it wasn’t your fault: you knew your guilt, your sense of inadequacy, would weigh on you for as long as the Cartel was alive and operational.

He felt it too, the hypocrite.

The hunt had drained everything from you. Every ounce of softness and humanity. How long had it been since you were hugged? Since you knew a peaceful night’s sleep or a kind touch? Since you entered a room without imagining the ceiling joists falling under the force of a car bomb? You had slept with a gun nearby since you had joined the DEA here, thinking yourself paranoid. Now, you slept with the damn thing loaded.

“I had such a good feeling about this one,” Peña mused, more to himself than anyone else. You knew he would go home tonight filled with guilt.

Maybe he would take it out on some poor sex worker, fuck away his guilt and fear and frustration.

Maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe he would call you, pretend the phone lines weren’t monitored as the two of you spoke in vague terms. Unable to discuss work on an unsecured line, desperate to hear something real from another human being, exchanging snippets of your shaking voices until one of you finally managed to find sleep.

With nothing else to discuss, the two of you would talk about yourselves.

You never knew how much was true. How much was omitted. You lied sometimes, out of instinct more than anything, and you knew Javi did too. People like you always did. Beneath it all, though, you got the strange sense that you were really hearing something honest about him.

In the deep grumble of his voice, his landline phone cord stretched to his bed as he took the distraction as a chance to drift off, you would hear something real about him. A story from his youth, some reminder that he was real and mortal, a complaint about an injury that wouldn’t heal, some grievance with a dry cleaner. Even the scratch of his stubble as he ran a hand over it sounded like a confession. A reminder you both had beating hearts.

Every word you exchanged, hitched breaths, waiting for reactions or hums down the phone to tell one another you were smiling.

That felt real.

You blinked, wincing at the horrid overhead lights, which seemed to flicker periodically, only when it would really piss you off. Javi was looking at you with concern, the deep lines of his forehead contorted over a raised eyebrow. His badge was in one hand – he’d been fidgeting with it for hours – but his over hand was extended towards you. Palm up, like he was offering it to you.

When you met his eyes you saw worry, mixed with sheer exhaustion, and tried to offer a weak smile.

Someone was moving in a corridor outside, and he waited for their steps to grow quiet until he spoke.

“Are you okay?”

He didn’t need an answer. The weak smile you offered felt like enough to make you cry, and he closed his open fist, nodded his head in understanding.

“Yeah,” he sighed.

He shared the same burden, the same burnout, pulling him to the ground with ten times the force of gravity, yet refusing to let him take a break in pursuit of these bastards.

“Go home,” he offered sincerely, raising that awkwardly hovering hand to clap onto your shoulder.

You closed your eyes. There was nowhere you wanted to be more than your own bed, but as you devoted a second to thinking about getting home, your body felt impossibly heavy.

“I’m exhausted,” you admitted, hoping Javi didn’t notice the tremble in your voice.

“You look it,” he agreed.

With a raised eyebrow and half-hearted glare you had him scrambling to apologise.

“I- I mean, you look lovely, doll. Always do. Just, shattered. I can barely see it –”

When you laughed, he realised you’d been joking, letting his head fall onto the desk braced by his exposed forearms. You glanced at the clock, realising it was gone midnight. None of you would be in the next day. You’d already gotten the time off, knowing the raid would run late.

They usually did.

Especially lately, everything the DEA did seemed to become an unmitigated disaster.

“Give me a minute, ‘til I can be bothered to walk to my car,” you mumbled, knowing Javi would understand your words.

You admired the mussed up back of his hair, looking worse-for-wear after a day of being tousled and pulled at by his twitchy hands. You wanted to fix the piece which was sticking straight up, but your arms felt too heavy to move.

Adrenaline was a funny thing. It left you jittery, pent-up, and yet completely stationary.

It would be fine once you moved, you knew. You’d forced your body through this gruelling pattern often enough.

You rolled your neck, moaning at the tightness in the muscles, and Javi looked up with that damn cheeky grin. He should be exhausted, but there he was, eyebrows raised, eyes gleaming with mischief. You groaned at him. That man could find an innuendo anywhere.

About to look away, you forced yourself to meet his challenge instead.

“I’m starting to see why you go to those fuckin’ brothels,” you drawled. “You think I could convince them to give me a neck rub?”

“I’m sure they’ll rub anything you want, sweetheart.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing as one hand remained on the back of your neck, the muscle rock solid from hours in this stupid metal chair. He stretched out his closed fists and stood wordlessly, taking his place behind your chair like it was the most natural thing in the world. You were about to say something when he commandingly rolled your head forwards, tugging your collar down. When his warm hands found your neck, you gave him a rumbling, contented moan far better than the one which had piqued his interest.

For just a second you felt the slow movements on your neck halt, before he continued to clumsily kneed at the muscle either side of your spine. It hurt, his strong hands against all those tender spots, but it was the best kind of ache.

His hands grew gentler, rubbing softly for a moment, before he spoke.

“Better?” he grunted, and you found yourself scanning the room for something reflective, disappointed that you couldn’t drink in the image of Javier behind you.

“Better,” you choked out, your voice unnatural as you felt the closeness of his touch affecting you.

It had just been too long, you told yourself.

Fuck, you wanted him to do that to the rest of your back. Your limbs. Those strong hands learning your body. And more, if he wanted it.

He cleared his throat and stepped away, and you rolled your shoulders, starting to collect your notes and belongings to leave. Javi slipped his jacket on, adjusting the collar and shaking the arms into place, and you fought not to watch.

“That’ll save you some money from the ladies of the night,” he teased, his tone just a little flatter than it ought to be.

You knew him well enough to sense awkwardness in that rough voice.

“Who said anything about ladies?” you shot back. “Are there male prostitutes? Must be.”

Javi seemed a little shaken, less steady on his feet as he took a second attempt to kick his chair under his desk. He was squaring up papers and stationary as if that was all it would take to tidy the mess around his typewriter, refusing to meet your eyes.

“I haven’t met any,” he ground out, “so I’m not sure I can help you there.”

“And I thought you were a connoisseur.”

You were a little taken aback when he didn’t laugh, and the playful smile fell from your lips. You hadn’t realised how much you were waiting for his deep chuckle, his silence forming a strange missing link in your conversation. Looking up at him, you found him staring at your shoes.

“I’m just teasing, Javi,” you started to apologise.

“No, no. No worries.”

He cleared his throat, playing with the notebook, badge, and keys in his grasp. Passing them from hand to hand. He walked abruptly to the door, toeing it open with his shoe, one hand on the light switch as he waited for you. As you joined him, he looked down, that handsome face distorted with a slight frown.

Frowning seemed to come a little to easily to his features these days.

“I’ll walk you to your car,” he rumbled, and you nodded gratefully.

He locked up behind you, and you felt a pang of guilt for ruining a perfectly good moment. You could still feel the phantom touch of his hands on your neck, the callouses of his fingers, experienced with women and yet inexperienced in such gentle touches.

The two of you strode down the dark corridors, and you wondered if he’d always walked that far away from you. He was walking a few feet ahead, and it felt like miles.

“I really didn’t mean anything by it,” you apologised, mumbling in the hopes he might not reply.

“No, I… I’m not upset. It’s fine. I’m just tired.”

You hummed, knowing he could sense your dissatisfaction with his answer. You were too dazed to find the right words.

As you stepped out into the muggy evening air, blinking against the flood lights, both of you froze. There was some commotion in the parking lot. Someone in plainclothes detained by a guard and another man dead on the ground, riddled with bullet holes. You weren’t sure why, but even after all the violence you saw every day, the puddle of blood around him made you clench your jaw with disgust.

Peña stepped in front of you defensively. He usually treated you as just another officer, but off-duty his protectiveness always seemed to kick in. Tonight, you felt your heart clench in gratefulness, as he approached the scene carefully, fingers on his holster. You were too exhausted to keep up with the rapid conversation between Javier and the guards, only tearing your gaze from the dead stare of the body on the ground when Peña called your name. A third time. He waved a hand in front of your face, and you blinked rapidly, apologising as you focused back in on the moment.

You expected the off-white flash of his teeth, laughing at your slowness, some snarky comment about seeming slow, doll. His solemn frown, his concern, was more startling than the flash of his palm in front of your face.

“That’s it,” he told you gruffly, one hand wrapped lightly around your bicep, “I’m driving you home.”

You laughed, half in surprise, and he smiled wearily.

“You’re exhausted.”

Ignoring his comment, you frowned, words tumbling from your mouth before you could stop them.

“Can you call me? Tonight?”

You knew it was pathetic. You sounded pathetic. You knew that.

He went to reply, and you found yourself unable to stop speaking to hear the answer.

“I just… I don’t know how I’ll sleep. I think… I want to hear your voice,” you stumbled.

Javier sighed, smiled slightly, gave a surprisingly bashful nod of his head.

“I’ll call.”

The two of you climbed into his car in silence, and you kept your focus on the moving dials of the dashboard as Javi crawled past the crime scene, joining traffic. The radio hummed quietly, indistinguishable from the noise outside, and you rest your head on the edge of the seat. As Javier drove you through the city streets you felt your energy return, as you knew it would. It always happened like this. You would be too exhausted to leave, be tempted to make a camp on the cool concrete floor of the office. Then, as soon as you were almost at your own front door, you would have the energy to run laps of the block.

You watched out the window, catching reflected glimpses of the flex of Javier’s forearms as he shifted gear, the columns of his neck as he shouted to other drivers, and deft way he handled the steering wheel.

Flashes of red and pink lights made you smile slightly as the car crawled through traffic. It wasn’t a part of town you’d visited outside of work, but you recognised the streets. Javi rolled down the window as you passed brothels, the darkness punctuated by flashes of beautiful women who cooed at Javi from their doorways. You refused to let yourself wonder how many he knew by name.

Then you wondered why you cared.

“Don’t want me to drop you off?” he teased, and you rolled your eyes.

You wondered if Javi had really taken this longer route on purpose, just to make a joke. From the smile on his face, you would believe it. He looked pleased with himself as you gave a groan, trying to hide your amusement.

“Any of them your type?” he goaded again, gesturing out the window, chewing his words.

You shifted in your seat, sitting up properly, blinking back a headrush as everything suddenly felt real again.

“None of them look much like John Travolta,” you noted, smiling as yet another gaggle of women gave the car flirty waves.

A few called out male names, fakes names you presumed, and you saw the man beside you wince. You waved back, smiling. Javier groaned, thumping his thumb against the leather of the steering wheel.

“Travolta? Really?”

You laughed, the lightest you’d felt all day, at the grimace on Peña’s face.

“Yes, Travolta! I’d totally pay a Travolta look alike. You got a problem with that?”

“He’s too soft. No grit.”

“He seems nice!”

Truthfully, there wasn’t much time for films out here. Even less American celebrity gossip. But you remembered him being very popular before you left.

“You could pick up a Travolta look-alike at any bar in this damn city, they’d be falling over themselves. You certainly wouldn’t need to pay them.”

You gave a private smile at the hypocrisy in his voice, as he scoffed over the idea of paying someone for sex. As if he was short on women who found him attractive.

“Yes, but unlike any old bloke in a bar, if I paid they couldn’t fall asleep on me after two minutes.”

Even as the traffic picked up speed, Javi rubbed a hand over his face in frustration, groaning yet again.

“That’s fuckin’ depressing.”

You could hear the unsaid pet name on his tongue, a strange stutter to the rhythm of his sentences, and you wondered why he held it back. The drawl of doll or sugar when he spoke to you was as natural as breathing at this point.

“Yeah.”

The red lights of brothels were far behind you now, and yet Javi was still driving the wrong way, taking a longer route to your place. You bit your lip, looking straight ahead and wondering why he was stalling taking you home.

Hoping you knew the reason.

Javier suddenly shouted, clutched the steering wheel as a car full of young guys cut him off, one hand reaching out like a safety harness across your chest as he slammed the brakes on. As soon as his arm was there, inches from your chest, it was gone again. He was changing gear and honking his horn and swearing under his breath, and you were trying to process the tight feeling in the pit of your stomach. He apologised as he swung the steering wheel, taking a side street to avoid the car ahead, wary of the guns and middle fingers waved from the windows by young men still convinced they were invincible under the cover of night.

You exhaled shakily, blinking away sleepiness as you tried to process what had happened, frustrated at yourself for your slowness.

He seemed to remember himself as the car crawled past sleeping houses, the headlights sweeping across cobblestone, finally in the direction of your place.

“Sorry, darling,” he muttered, fingers tapping on the wheel irately.

“No problem. Can’t be careful enough, at the moment.”

He hummed and nodded, gave you a quiet sideways glance before training his eyes on the road again. One hand rested on the gear shift, curved around so his wrist brushed your thigh as you uncrossed and crossed your legs. He glanced towards you again, something so inconspicuous you hardly recognised it, and you wondered if he knew you were trying not to stare.

The brakes complained under Peña’s foot as he finally rolled to a stop outside your building, the night as quiet as Bogotá ever got. There were a few lights on in your block, the faint shouts of an arguing couple muffled as they drifted on the late night air, a baby crying, faint sirens. All reminders that you were yet to settle this torn city.

Javier cleared his throat and reached for the handbrake, cutting the engine but leaving one hand on the ignition. No doubt it was one of those habits which had saved his life once, and then he could never drop it. You felt the slight movement of the car as his foot finally left the brake, and you smiled privately at how overly cautious he was, ready for anything to go wrong.

He shook slightly at the gear shift, checking it was in neutral.

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow, if you want. To get your car. Or the next time you need to be in the office. Whenever you need me, doll. Just be safe.”

He swiped at his moustache nonchalantly as he spoke then reached for a cigarette, leaving it between his lips unlit. He pulled a lighter from his pocket one handed, poised to light it as you spoke.

“Thanks, Javi. I really appreciate it, you’re too good to me.”

He froze up, before slowly moving the lighter to the centre console of the car, dropping it into the tray there with a clatter.

“Don’t say shit like that,” he grumbled around the cigarette, but you smiled anyway.

Seeing his prickly exterior come out only meant he was protecting himself from being vulnerable. He looked up at your building, ducking to survey the height of it. You knew it was rougher than where he and Murphy had ended up, but you liked the community of it.

“We gotta get you moved closer to us,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head for show, and you huffed out a laugh.

“I’m fine, Javi. Thank you for the lift.”

As you reached for the door handle he seemed to startle, the bubble of calm inside the car burst as a rush of hot air and noise swarmed through the open door.

“I’ll walk you in,” he declared, stashing his gun beneath his jacket and pulling the keys from the ignition.

“It’s fine, please, you can call me tonight,” you insisted, your feet finally hitting the ground as you got out of the passenger seat.

When you looked back into the vehicle for a gentle goodbye, you were surprised to see something sad on his face. Something disappointed, lonely, enough to make your heart clench.

“Unless you want to come in?”

He was beside you in an instant, the car needlessly loud in the click as Javi twisted his keys in the door to lock it.

“You’ve had a long day,” he reminded you, one hand hovering insistently behind your lower back, refusing to touch or grow further from you as you approached the entrance to your building.

It felt like forever ago, the failed raid, the violence at your office, the feeling of being fused to that bruising-hard metal chair as your heart raced in time with the static of the radio. The memory of Javi’s hands on you had finally vanished for just a second, until he brought it right back.

“You have too, Javi,” you muttered, looking away as you found your key.

“I’ll sleep like a baby tonight,” he grumbled, feet heavy on the stairwell as you ascended to the second story of the building.

“No other plans?”

Your question was supposed to be light-hearted, both of you breathing more heavily as you reached the threshold to your apartment. Key in the lock, you turned to see Javi leaning against the wall as casually as if he belonged there.

“None,” he whispered, “I’m here as long as you need me.”

Who said I needed you?

His arms were folded, fists clenched, and you wondered if he was stopping himself from reaching out.

He followed you inside quickly, taking the liberty of sliding over every lock on the door before you had the chance to. You could see him mentally sweeping the room, craning his neck to look for anything which might make his instincts rear up. You crossed to the small kitchen counter, dumping everything you were carrying down, as he gently paced the small space. He stuck his head into the bedroom, the bathroom, just checking.

Somewhere deep down, you knew why.

He would never forgive himself if something happened to you.

“Drink?”

Peña nodded, and you stepped back to let him raid the fridge himself, needing no permission. He’d been here enough times, though you couldn’t remember a time without Murphy. It was a different feeling, just the two of you. Calmer. Safer. You couldn’t meet his eyes as you moved around to switch on a couple of side lights. You knew you should eat, but you couldn’t walk back to the kitchen. Not while Peña was there.

The shouting had stopped, the baby had silenced, and yet you knew you wouldn’t sleep if you went to bed now.

Not a chance in hell.

You wondered if that was what Javier was doing too: distracting himself from the thoughts which would find him in sleep. By eating everything in your kitchen, apparently.

“I should cook for you, sometime,” he called, though his voice was quieter than you’d expected. Closer.

“You any good?” you teased, straightening up a stack of papers which would immediately slump into a mess again.

“Not really.”

You laughed a little, hearing his matching chuckle behind you. As you turned you found yourself suddenly between his arms, so close you could see the irritated red threatening the whites of his eyes. You wanted to stroke a thumb across those lines in the furrow of his brow, force him to relax until he turned back into the bright-eyed man you’d once known, who relished wasting government money on the finer things in life, and cheered like he’d won a star player when you were assigned to his team.

It seemed like a lifetime ago, and yet here he was, still in front of you. The same man, beneath the exhaustion and the things he’d seen since starting this damn job. As you were examining the lines of his face, the dark circles which never quite managed to overshadow the beauty of his dark eyes, he was staring at you.

He gave you warning, time to move away or speak or – something. He told you what he wanted with heavy eyelids and a light grip on your jaw, in the slight shuffle of his body closer to yours. Then he kissed you, like it had always made sense. It didn’t feel like the first time, he felt familiar. The slight tickle of facial hair against your face, the tensing of his fingers, seeming to engulf your whole skull and guiding you to lean into him as he groaned into your mouth.

The sound of your lips separating made your eyes open, staring wide at Javier like he was a new man. His grip on your face slipped to hands resting on your shoulders as he watched you, waiting for a reaction, bottom lip between his teeth as he bit down a grin.

You smiled openly, only able to look at his face, and he matched you with a laugh. He pulled you with him as he walked backwards, dragging you on top of him as he sat on your couch, muffling your apologies with a kiss as you fell heavily onto his lap.

The couch creaked beneath him as your mouths met heavily, but if Peña had even felt the weight of you, he didn’t flinch. He was kissing you like the world was ending, like he had seconds before the two of you would be gone forever, and he was determined not to miss a second against your skin.

It had felt like that, you supposed. That you would be ripped from one another too soon. Countless times together you had been seconds from death, an inch from bleeding out, hours from being blown up. It could all end soon, the two of you swallowed in flames or a shower of bullets. Perhaps he was making up for each and every time you had called for one another across a soon-to-be crime scene, desperately glad to see each other unharmed.

Peña’s hand on your waist grounded you, dragged you back into the moment, and you poured everything you had into kissing him so hard his lips would be reddened for days. You wouldn’t apologise for the roughness of it – he was determined to bruise you in response, sharing the kind of desperation which couldn’t be expressed in any other way.

Finally his second hand found your waist, gently prompting you to sit up in your straddle across his lap, staring at this new glassy-eyed, wild expression he wore.

“I’m no Travolta,” he panted, the words ghosting across you face.

You sighed. No living that one down.

“He’s not got enough grit for me anyway,” you promised, pressing a gentle kiss to the aquiline slope of his nose, before strong hands guided your lips straight back to his.

#javier pena #javier pena x reader #13atoms #javier pena x you #no y/n #javier pena fic #javier pena imagine #narcos fic #fic

[rotten-games]

City of Immortals RO List

Okay so here it is, the list of ROs like I promised. Both mc's have their own pool of love interests to choose from with little overlap.

Here you’ll get a description of the ROs and some information on how the mc or others might view them. Also some info on the mc’s.

Mc1

Born to be a soldier by design, they were afflicted with immortality and stopped aging entirely once they hit thirty. A side effect—or perhaps a feature—is the beast that all but lives inside them, taking control when they feel incredibly strong emotions, though most often when anger is present. Where once they held full control of it, of the transformation they go through, now they must wrestle with its control with each passing day.

You are what’s called a Hunter. Every settlement has them, but Eden has the most. Caroline controls all her hunters from Eden, though ‘Hunter’ may be a bit of an oversimplification of the job description. Yes, one of their main jobs is providing food and other resources for the settlement, but they’re also bounty hunters, keepers of the peace, and are also often recruited for odd jobs when they have no contracts to fill. Perhaps the most important rule in Hunting, is that you always work in pairs.

Caroline: She/her

The best way to describe Carol is ‘short’, with a pair of unblinking amber eyes and a wind-buffeted, naturally tanned complexion. Her russet curls, while  usually out of her face, never seem to stay tied back for long, a seemingly constant slew of curls sticking to her forehead. A jagged scar cuts across the knuckles on her right hand.

Caroline is unrelenting. She knows what her settlement needs and she’ll be damned if she doesn’t get it—to save the lives of those she must oversee she is willing to do anything. Within reason. Truthfully, Caroline never asked to be made the leader of Eden, the job just sort of fell into her lap one day and no one bothered to take it from her. You’ve worked for her for years by the start of chapter one, and if you’ve learned anything about her it’s that she doesn’t do smalltalk. She’s been in a relationship with Lowrie for years now, and as far as you can tell, they’re very happy with one another.

Lowrie: non-binary, they/them pronouns

Impossibly tall and scrawny, Lowrie’s skin is constantly burned red by the sun, seemingly unable to tan no matter what they do. Their face is long, with ash-coloured, shoulder-length hair that would usually hide their grey eyes but is otherwise kept out of their face with a blue-patterned scarf.

Some have called Lowrie stuck up in the past for their less than talkative nature but that would be an oversimplification. In truth, they just aren’t fond of talking—which is probably why they get on with Harley so well—and more shy than anything else. One of Eden’s finest Hunters, they spend most of their time in the sweltering heat of Wasteland bringing bandits in and shooting any of the mangy beasts that stray too close to Eden. The rest of their time is spent managing the bar with Caroline and Harley, tending to keep to themself. You’ve worked with Lowrie in the past, and as far as you can tell there’s little love lost between the two of you. 

Carol + Lowrie poly:

Caroline and Lowrie are poly and in a committed relationship with one another. They will not leave one another for monogamy with mc, however, you don’t have to be in a throuple with them—though that’s definitely on the table—you can simply be with one, who is with both you and the other. Lowrie is also currently casually seeing Harley. Carol is not seeing anyone else.

Mordred: he/him.

With a seemingly constant fuzz along his jaw, and a never-ending supply of little scars littering his warm olive skin, his hair tends to cover everything but his yellow eyes and the deep bags underneath. His hair is typically tied into a loose bun at the back of his head, mostly obscuring his pierced, slightly pointed ears.

Mordred is a hot-headed, easily irritated young man who’s been by your side since day one. You dragged yourselves out of the crumbling ruins of Ledala together, you fought together, and now you work together as Hunters. Partner’s in crime doesn’t quite cover your relationship but it’s certainly close. In recent years, however, your relationship has strained—perhaps it’s due to past mistakes getting in the way, or past feelings, but either way at the start of the book he’s nowhere to be found.

At the start of the game you can determine just what your relationship is with him—it’s strained at this point but the reasons why are totally up to you. He can also potentially have been an old flame of MC2.

Ridley: Gender variable

Ridley is an energetic person with a pair of bright green eyes constantly sparkling with a glint of adventure. Despite their heavily-muscled frame, they seem to constantly be hiding behind their oversized glasses, a veil of their shaggy red hair, and a slouch that makes them out to be much smaller than they are.

Ridley is… an enigma. While technically a Hunter, they seem much more interested in the pursuits of science and research than holding off rabid beasts with nothing but a gun that’s falling apart and a rusty sword. Of course, they can hold their own well enough, but when they’re meant to be spending their time training or helping out—and indeed, even on their time off—they’re usually found traipsing around in the desert looking for… who knows what.

Doc: She/her

Doc is stocky and sharp-jawed, dark brown, almost black eyes always watching. Her dense curls are shoulder-length and appear twisted together and held back behind her head. The tip of her left ear appears to have been torn off somehow.

Not known for her bedside manner, Doc travels between settlements to tend to the sick, injured, and broken, and though none can particularly vouch for her interpersonal skills (though who can say anyone has particularly good ones, these days?), they can certainly do so for her medicinal accomplishments. Some think her a wandering ghost, aiding those who need help to make up for the sins of her past, others simply see her as a woman seeking to do her part for the good of Wasteland, regardless, if you get on her bad side she’s been known to be liberal with her gun. Or so the rumors say.

J. Allard: Gender variable

Allard is a nervous-looking, shifty individual with short but messy brown hair flecked with grey. Constantly fidgeting with the ring on their thumb, their stutter becomes more obvious the more nervous they are. Though their eyes hide behind a pair of darkened glasses, a pallid face a week out from its last wash they are, completely, honest. Trust me.

J. Allard is a totally normal priest. There is nothing strange about them, they simply want what is best for you and your companions.

Mc2

Dragged down into the depths of the earth on the day Ledala fell, you never knew of the city beneath the surface. Your sibling died that day, you’re sure of it, and a part of you died with them—the beast no longer responds to your call and you’re still left injured from whatever afflicted you and your comrades that day. The man who saved you set you to work for him—sorry, with him—and now you walk perpetually in the darkness of a city long since forgotten by the sun, with people named after the remnants of an old world you never knew existed. You were never meant to survive that night, and every day the world around you reminds you of that.

Arthur: he/him

Arthur doesn’t look quite there half the time. His skin is translucent, his pale blue eyes impossibly far away, platinum blond hair little more than wispy strands atop his head. Most of his body is otherwise covered completely by that old, brown coat of his. There’s light freckling across his nose.

Arthur saved you that night. A Private Investigator by trade, he brought you on to work together because you had no where else to go. Maybe because of it you should be closer than you are but there’s always been a distance between you he’s been unwilling to cross. Either way, despite working together—living together—he keeps to himself and you try to keep to yourself in turn. Still, you can’t help but notice the disdain he has for the City Council and their lackeys.

Perci: she/her

Perci is constantly smiling. Relaxed of posture, her straight hair once ashy brown is now dyed silver. It’s cut short at the sides and back, creating an undercut, most of her fringe tucked behind her ears to reveal a pair of dark brown, monolid eyes. She seems allergic to sleeves, taking whatever chance she gets to show off her cybernetic arm and the colourful tattoos that adorn her flesh arm.

A friend of Arthur who sometimes helps with investigations. She’s friendlier than he is with you, even inviting you out on occasion, but rebellion is on her lips more and more nowadays, and she isn’t subtle about it. You haven’t seen her in quite a while—as far as you can tell she and Arthur aren’t on speaking terms anymore after that big fight they had a few months back. As far as you can tell, she’s moved on and you certainly wouldn’t blame her if she has Council dogs on her heels.

Saga: Saga is always the same gender as your mc is.

Saga’s hair is a deep blue in colour, their black roots just barely growing through. Half of their head is shaved, the other half left chest-length and braided over their shoulder. Though their entire body seems to interwoven with tech, what is perhaps most interesting about them is the angular tattoo that crawls down the right side of their face. This is probably why they come to you completely covered in muck and baggy clothing.

Saga shows up at your door with a different name and a job. You aren’t given why, only the how, only the what. They’re stubborn and flighty in equal measure, suspicious of everyone around them including yourself. Oh, they dress the part of a street rat well, but the cash they have just on hand is nothing to blink at and, underneath all that grime, their skin is perfectly unmarred by the ravages of time.

Deimos: he/him, gay

Whether or not Deimos’ strength is his own or from borrowed, military-grade tech is anyone’s guess, but no one’s ever bothered to ask. Though he’s tall, he isn’t necessarily as muscular as the fear he commands would suggest. His eyes glow orange, black hair trimmed but not maintained, and his grin is enough to stop anyone in their tracks. For whatever reason, he always wears warm clothes.

Deimos is a Council dog who’s been hounding Arthur for a few years now. You’ve never officially met him; somehow whenever he drops into the office you always manage to be out. Whether that’s coincidence or because Arthur sends you out on errands very conveniently at those times it’s not for you to say. Somehow, he never seems to do too much damage to your colleague.

Adrastea: Non-binary, they/them or she/her pronouns, only attracted to nb or female mc’s

Adrastea has been voted the city’s most attractive person many years in a row now. Everything about them is perfect; perfect smile, perfect blue eyes, perfect cascading coils of iridescent hair, yet somehow despite their well-calculated appearance it’s like there’s a tiger waiting to pounce on any wary admirer who comes too close.

While not a member of the council they hold great sway simply by virtue of their age and the fact they’re so beloved by the populace. You’ve seen them on the holos, how they’re oh, so giving to the needy and even invite the commonfolk to their lavish parties all the important council members attend. It’s an act, it has to be; through their gorgeous smile and all those sheer dresses they seek nothing if not attention. A lot of their history is shrouded and deleted from public record, but you do know that they were once a head scientist that took part in the very same project that supposedly made you what you are today.

Dagda: gender variable

Dagda is the perfectly attractive face everyone sees on their screens every night. In a world of cybernetic bodies and unnaturally bright lights, they are the one person who almost looks... natural. With a perfectly cultivated appearance of salt and pepper hair, soulful brown eyes, and that winning smile, nothing about them is their own; everything they do exactly what everyone else tells them to do.

The mouthpiece of the Council, Dagda is seen to be charming and down to earth in the vids. They say Ledala is prospering more than it has in decades, that the crime rates are lowering thanks to the wonderful work they and their colleagues on the Council are doing. Of course, there always has been a certain emptiness behind their eyes. When the camera isn’t rolling, you wonder what they really think.

#lore #coi game

[prince-of-elsinore]

Sam and Dean: psychological analysis and headcanons

In response to this anon ask from the 66 SPN Questions:

6. Do you have any psychological headcanons (or canon interpretations) of the characters?

Anon, this is probably not what you asked for. But I started writing, and kept finding more I wanted to say, until I thought--why not just say it all? And by all, I  don't actually mean all--this is by no means exhaustive. But it was a wonderful, self-indulgent opportunity to organize my thoughts on Sam and Dean's psychologies, and even find some new ideas as I was writing, and to put them out there so others can read and discuss. (Always happy to discuss any of this! Inbox is open.)

As a disclaimer, I know most of these thoughts are probably not original and may be retreads of many things fandom has been discussing for years. I'm not claiming to be breaking new ground here. Also, I sorta float backwards and forwards chronologically in my discussion--some parts pertain more to them when they're young, some to when they're older, and I don't always clarify which. Also, these are generalizations! I point out patterns I notice; that doesn't make them all hard and fast rules, because Sam and Dean are each human and complex!

Here's what you'll find below:

1. Core motivations 2. Happiness 3. Approval and secrets 4. Approval from authority figures 5. Need and attachment re: others 6. Sympathy and empathy 7. Walls—hiding vs. performing 8. Need and attachment re: each other 9. Ambitions and goals 10. Normality and monstrosity 11. Guilt and self-loathing 12. Autonomy and sacrifice 13. Personal identity 14. Concluding observation

1. Core motivations: Dean’s purpose is to protect Sam, obviously. Sam’s purpose, though a little less clear, is to save Dean. Sometimes it’s explicit, as in s3 and s9-10. But I think Sam also wants to save Dean, in general, from himself and from the life. It’s why he pushes against Dean’s obedience to their father. It’s why he tells him to get out and go to Lisa after he jumps in the Cage. At a certain point, I think Sam accepts he can’t “save” Dean without changing who he is, so he chooses to stick by him—because at least then he can make Dean happy.

2. Happiness: Dean’s happiness—or perhaps contentment is a better word—is knowing that Sam is safe and alive. Sam’s happiness is Dean being happy. In Sam’s world, things are good when Dean’s good. I think that, conversely, Dean wants Sam to be happy, and Sam wants Dean to be safe, but they both know and to an extent accept that those things are not within their control, so they focus on what they feel they can control.

3. Approval and secrets: They are each other’s north stars, guiding principles, in different ways. For Dean it’s “look out for Sammy,” for Sam it’s “what would my big brother think/do.” Dean doesn’t need Sam’s approval. Sure, he loves it when Sam admires him, but if he feels he needs to do something against Sam’s approval, he doubles down because approval from Sam is not the top priority. He’ll do what he thinks is right, especially to keep Sam safe, no matter what Sam thinks about it. Sam, on the other hand, does crave Dean’s approval and cares very much about his opinion. It doesn’t mean he won’t go against Dean (all the conflict of s1-5!), but it affects him differently. This leads to different kinds of secret-keeping: Sam goes behind Dean’s back to avoid his disapproval; Dean goes behind Sam’s back so that Sam doesn’t interfere with what he thinks needs to be done.

4. Approval from authority figures: Dean does crave approval from others—specifically, respected authority figures. The big one is obviously John. I think in a way it’s Mary, too, when she comes back. But it only applies as long as the person has his respect. Sam doesn’t crave approval from other authorities in the same way, perhaps because his primary authority figure growing up was Dean.

5. Need and attachment re: others: Sam is the only person Dean cannot live without, but he also makes outside connections of a friendly nature fairly easily. He’s the more socially outgoing brother who latches onto people like Gordon, gets friendly with Ash, and forges connections with Jo and Charlie, just to name a few (and Castiel at times—though their relationship is so inconsistent and often convenience-based I hesitate to include it in this category). Though Sam is Dean’s core need, I do think Dean thrives with other friendships. I’m not talking about found family, though I’m well aware of Dean’s tendency to call people “family” quite readily. Honestly, I think this is a manifestation of his craving for connection with others. Dean has an affectionate and playful nature, and let’s face it, Sam isn’t always super receptive to that—so naturally, Dean seeks out people who are. (I think this is also, in some cases, related to Dean’s craving for approval from others). Of course, none of those other relationships come close to the depth of his relationship with Sam, and when his relationship with Sam is at its best, I don’t think Dean really needs anything else to sustain him. But in reality, it can’t always be at its best.

Sam, on the other hand, doesn’t forge outside connections easily—but when he does, they tend to be deeper than Dean’s easy casual associations (even when Dean has real affection for someone, he tends to keep the tone of the relationship light). It’s pretty clear Sam was a loner kid, and I imagine it took him a while to find friends at Stanford, and even though he loved Jessica he still clearly kept many secrets. That’s the thing with Sam—he’s got walls. Dean’s got his own walls, but they’re different. Sam can seem emotionally open, but he protects his innermost self very carefully and rarely puts his emotions out there in a truly open way—even less than Dean does. I think this is a consistent personality trait for Sam, not one born of trauma (though perhaps exacerbated by it at times). In fact, it’s in later seasons that I see Sam finally, in rare moments, let down those walls, with Rowena and Jack. When he’s young, I think this was partially a coping mechanism he developed for hiding his desires/feelings, even from himself, because he was so unhappy with his life. It means that even though he’s an introspective guy, he’s not as self-aware as he thinks he is until he’s older and more mature. He’s very good at self-deception when he’s young, because as a thinker, he can convince himself of just about anything.

To circle back to attachment, what this means to me is that Sam, while he certainly appreciates close friendships and has a lot to offer those he cares about, doesn’t crave friends in the way that Dean does. I think he desires to be understood (this is a natural human need) but he’s much more comfortable with himself than Dean is, and is somewhat of a loner by nature. This means he’s also not (usually) going to be too affected by the status of his relationships with others. Dean is much more volatile and easily hurt by others (this is where Castiel is a great example).

6. Sympathy and empathy: On the surface, Sam appears to be the caring, sensitive brother, while Dean is brash and insensitive. This is a very incomplete picture, however. It mostly comes down to the difference between sympathy and empathy. Empathy is an involuntary response, whereas sympathy is something that a person chooses to express, though that doesn’t make it necessarily superficial—it also comes from an emotional place. Dean tends to be more empathetic, and Sam more sympathetic. Dean, despite his performative walls, is more easily affected on a visceral level by others’ emotions. He is more sensitive, more easily hurt or swayed to anger, and also more easily experiences empathy. This has nothing to do with what Dean thinks is right—it’s another involuntary emotion. He is sometimes moved to express this feeling, but he’s not generally concerned about appearing sympathetic. Sam, with his careful emotional walls, isn’t generally so viscerally affected by others, but he is kind. This is expressed as sympathy, because he cares about others’ feelings, and he wants to be good/morally right. On the one hand, it comes from an intellectual place—“it’s socially acceptable/morally right to express care for this person” (which Dean is less likely to care about)—and on the other, it is an emotional response—“I know what that feels like”—but a more regulated one than empathy, where one almost directly experiences another’s emotions.

7. Walls—hiding vs. performing: It’s interesting that both brothers have their own walls, which they construct as a form of self-preservation, but they have different levels of effectiveness in protecting themselves from outside influence. One difference might lie in what the walls were built in reaction to. Sam built his walls at a young age to separate himself from the outside world because, ironically, it was precisely what he desired, but was not allowed to have. He therefore consciously distanced himself from it, to dull the pain of not having it. The goal of those walls was to have something to hide behind, where he could remain generally unnoticed, so he could conceal his pain from outsiders and even from his family.

Dean took a little longer to build his walls—or at least to consciously do so. He already no doubt fashioned himself after his dad as a kid, and often put on a brave face—for Sam, for his father—when he was not feeling brave. He therefore became accustomed to performing at a young age, and performed many roles for both Sam’s and John’s benefit. He was unconsciously building walls with these performances, concealing his true feelings and desires. Later, I think this started to become more intentional, especially in relations with women/sex partners and especially after the Stanford split, as Dean realized how vulnerable to hurt his sensitive nature made him. It was much safer to perform all the time, and never let his real feelings show. For Dean, even more than Sam, I think he often lost sight of what those real feelings were behind the walls as he tried his best to be the performance he was putting on.

For a visual metaphor, I think of it this way: Sam is a boy at the center of a self-constructed labyrinth. He is almost always able to maintain control over how close people get (except when a few slip past his defenses, at which point he may be susceptible to manipulation). Despite all those elaborate passageways, though, there’s still Sam at the center. It’s lonely there, but he knows himself pretty well at least. Dean is a man in a mask who wants the mask to be his real face. He does everything he can to fuse himself and the mask together. They probably are fused at this point, so it would hurt to take the mask off. His memory of the face under the mask is hazy. He’s afraid, if he looks under the mask, he’ll hate what he sees. He’s lonely because no matter how close others get—and he lets them in close, can surround himself with people—none of them will ever see his true face. But he’s convinced himself it’s better this way, because if anyone saw his face, they’d hate it.

8. Need and attachment re: each other: Clearly, both brothers need each other. Sam’s need for Dean is different than Dean’s need for Sam, though. The way I see it, Dean’s need is one that requires reassurance. Perhaps it traces back to the concern about Sam instilled into him at a young age. I think it was strongly exacerbated by the Stanford split, when Dean realized his and Sam’s desires didn’t align. In Dean’s mind, Sam left once and can do it again—he’s always waiting for the other shoe to drop. Sam, on the other hand, has always been able to rely on Dean as a rock, a constant in his life—to the point that, in a way, he takes it for granted when he’s younger. Not in a spoilt, ungrateful way, but in that way that we, as children, might take our parents for granted—they’re always going to be there, right? That’s why, on the few occasions where suddenly, Sam isn’t sure of Dean’s devotion, the rug is ripped out from under him and he’s completely adrift and distraught—seasons 4 and 8 come to mind. Sam needs to be the center of Dean’s universe. When he fears that that’s shifted, that Dean hates him or has chosen someone else over him, it turns Sam’s whole world upside down. For Dean, the fear is that Sam will leave, but it’s a constant, background worry. For Sam, the fear is that Dean will hate him, but since he can usually count on Dean to be obsessed with him, it only comes up now and again. Only Dean can truly hurt Sam, while Dean is vulnerable to hurt from others—though, as always, the deepest hurt can only come from Sam.

9. Ambitions and goals: Sam is the one with greater needs and ambitions outside the scope of their relationship. For Dean, if he’s got Sam and he’s got hunting, he’s content. His greatest accomplishments are taking care of Sam and saving people, and that’s all he needs. I see Sam as craving other sources of fulfillment, though—academic/lore study for its own sake (the pursuit of knowledge), and a leadership/mentorship role. I thought it was very fitting that Sam finds these in late seasons, with leading hunters against the BMOL, then leading the apocalypse AU hunters, then mentoring/nurturing Jack. Dean has always had (and needed) a mentor/leadership/nurturing role with Sam, but Sam also thrives when he’s able to step into that role for others.

10. Normality and monstrosity: I’m just going to link to this post rather than repeat myself.

11. Guilt and self-loathing: This is something they both struggle with and at times, are defined by, but it manifests differently. I think their Hell traumas exemplify their different brands of guilt: for Dean, it’s perpetrator’s guilt. He knows he did something terrible and feels he can never atone for his past actions. For Sam, it’s victim’s/survivor’s guilt. He may not have done anything wrong, but there’s a certain amount of self-blame, especially for perceived weakness. This is another theme for Sam; one of the main faults he sees in himself is weakness—too weak to save Dean from Hell for instance—and as a result tries to shoulder things alone (killing Lilith, Hallucifer, etc). Sam has a need to fix things, to prove to others and himself that he is capable. Dean, I think, sees his main fault as neediness, but really, it’s a deeply buried sense of innate worthlessness. He was taught from a young age that his brother’s life—not his own—was of the utmost value. He internalized that his life was only worthwhile if he could save others, and has trouble with the idea that he, himself, has value beyond what he can do for others.

12. Autonomy and sacrifice: The above leads Dean to have a very constrained sense of his own autonomy. In general, he values duty/loyalty to others over autonomy (although when it comes to cosmic beings, he’s all about free will—see this post if you want more thoughts on that, and Sam’s autonomy). Often, his desire to control others comes from a place of frustration when Dean feels they are neglecting duty/being selfish. I think partially duty towards others is really a deeply ingrained value for him, but there may also be some buried jealousy at play, in that Dean wishes he could act with more freedom, put himself first every once in a while, but doesn’t know how to. Sam tends to value autonomy over duty (this doesn’t mean he doesn’t believe in any sort of responsibility—he’s willing to sacrifice for the greater good, after all).  This means he also tends to respect others’ autonomy, though we all know he can get plenty unhinged where his brother’s safety is concerned. The theme of Sam and autonomy has been talked to death so I’ll stop there, but you can click the link above if you want more.

13. Personal identity: One of Dean’s biggest struggles is with how much of his personal identity is received rather than self-determined. He is tasked with taking care of Sam and he is trained to be a hunter; these become the foundations of his identity. He says it himself: taking care of Sam is not just what he does but who he is. Then in season 3, his own subconscious mocks him for his lack of originality, styling himself and all he loves after his father, showing that this is a source of deep insecurity. This discomfort with himself contributes to his fear of being abandoned and left alone with himself. He doesn’t know who he is without Sam—or rather, is convinced he is nothing without Sam, which is why he fights so hard to keep him by his side. It also contributes to his general desire for friends, or better, family: people who won’t abandon him.

Later in the series, I think Dean has come to embrace his genuine self more. He’s nerdy and excitable and playful—and I don’t see this is as regression, but rather a healthy embracing of what makes him happy—not tastes inherited from his father. If it seems juvenile, it’s because it’s the first time in his life he’s allowed himself to express and explore these things. I think his relationship with hunting is also healthier; it’s no longer something he does because it’s the only thing that can give him worth. He does it because he believes it’s right and genuinely wants to help people. He has a more complete sense of self, and while it’s still totally tied up in Sam, he has gained some self-worth.

[I should note that basically everything I’ve written about Dean supports the headcanon that Dean has BPD—a headcanon I accepted after I realized this. For some more great writing on Dean and BPD, see this post by @venhedish.]

Sam has always known what he wanted for himself and rejected what was given to/allowed him. Wanting what he couldn’t have, from a young age, helped him develop an individual sense of self, not defined by others. I think it’s this difference in their sense of individual identity that leads some viewers to think that Dean loves Sam more than Sam loves Dean. He doesn’t, and losing Dean is just as huge a loss and a grief for Sam as losing Sam was for Dean. Dean is central to Sam’s life, and he can’t feel complete without him; however, his identity and every desire has never revolved as entirely around Dean as Dean’s has around him, so Sam has a foundational sense of self that even losing Dean can’t completely destroy. It’s what allows him to rebuild in grief and carry on (whereas I have no doubt Jensen’s right and Dean would waste away in the back of a pool hall without Sam). Dean’s central role in Sam’s life never disappears, though, and it is, in fact, what allows Sam to carry on; an effort to honor his brother’s memory, living in a way that would make him proud. There’s continuity in that for Sam; the craving for his brother’s approval and happiness never disappears. Seeking those things is what makes Sam happy, both in their domestic years together before Dean’s death and in the years after. They are both, after all, co-dependent!

14: Concluding observation: Sam and Dean have many similar issues, desires, and insecurities: the desire for a normal life, the fear of their own monstrosity, the desire for love and friendship, their need and love for each other, their desire for approval/to be admired, resentment at their childhood, the feeling of being impure and unworthy, the desire for freedom, issues with bodily autonomy. Sometimes these are seen as the purview of one brother or the other exclusively, but that’s almost never true when you consider canon as a whole. The difference is in how these things are internalized, sublimated, reflected, and expressed for each of them. It makes sense they would struggle with so many of the same things, because their lives are deeply intertwined and they are in the same boat most of the time.

#spn meta #sam meta #dean meta #sam and dean #winchester brothers #my meta #the brodependency #long post #spn

[ladycatofwinterfell]

Raindrops, snowflakes, sunshine, part 4

Summary: Catelyn meets a northern boy in her algebra class during one of London’s many rainy days. Initially she doesn’t expect much, but this boy brings her a surprising amount of sunlight.

@leialannister and I discussed Scandinavian Starks and I realized I really wanted to write a fic so that’s what I did. Swedes depicted in media makes this Swede happy, and NedCat also makes me happy so why not combine it and publish him for everyone to see?

A sigh escaped her when she finally put the cookies in the oven. That had taken a lot longer than she had expected it to. She glanced at the clock, maybe she would have to message Ned and tell him that she would be a bit late.

“What are you baking?”

Elia came into the kitchen and opened a cupboard to take out a glass.

“Chocolate chip cookies with peanut butter” Catelyn replied.

“Any chance I can get one when they’re finished?”

“Absolutely. I made too many anyway.”

Either she was baking for a country or for one small child, she could never make anything in the right amount. That day she had apparently decided to bake for all of London. But that was good, then she could leave some at home and bring some to Ned. Taking up her phone she quickly wrote him a message about that she would be a bit late. She had planned on starting to bake earlier, but then there had been some obstacles. The obstacles were that she had promised Cersei to paint her nails and do her hair for her date. Which she didn’t regret, Cersei had looked awesome when she was done.

“Can you make too many cookies?” Elia asked.

She opened the fridge and took out a carton of orange juice.

“I can only bring so many to Ned without looking like a crazy person.”

“Who’s Ned?”

Had she never told Elia his actual name? She guessed not. He was known as the Swede in their household, Ashara and Cersei exclusively called him by that name.

“The Swede.”

“Ah, I guess your date went well, then” Elia said, smiling.

“It wasn’t a date, we’re not dating.”

“Whatever you say. Ash told me you wouldn’t talk much about it, so I figured it didn’t go well but if you’re baking for him it can’t have been too bad.”

“It wasn’t bad at all, he’s really nice. I like him.”

“So why not date him?”

Catelyn sat in a chair at the kitchen table while Elia poured her juice.

“Because I’m not interested in him in that way. He’s cute, I can admit that, but no.”

Elia just shrugged and put the juice back into the fridge before leaving the kitchen again. Catelyn wasn’t baking because she was interested in him, she had just been walking around feeling guilty about that she had nothing to give in return for him teaching her to draw. So she had decided that the least she could do was bring him some homemade cookies. It didn’t feel enough, but it was something. She started gathering up all the things she had used so that she could clean them, but just after she had filled the sink with water her phone started buzzing. She cleaned her hands and walked to take her phone, expecting it to be Ned, but instead her uncle’s name was on the screen.

“Hello, Uncle” she said.

She had been calling him twice a day all week to find out what that phone call from Edmure had been about, but he hadn’t answered her. She had almost believed he had got into an accident, but her father had assured her that Uncle Brynden was just fine. He hadn’t known what it was about though, and he hadn't known why Brynden wasn't answering his phone.

“Little Cat, good to hear your voice!”

She put the phone on speaker and picked up the dish brush, beginning to scrub away remains of cookie dough.

“You could have heard my voice much earlier if you had taken my calls” she responded.

“My phone died and I lost it, but my husband found it behind a shelf earlier today so now I could call you” Brynden said.

Catelyn had to keep herself from laughing.

“How did it end up behind a shelf?”

“Believe me, I would also like to know that.”

“Alright. Edmure said you wanted to know if I would be home for Christmas, can I ask why you wanted to know that? You know I always come home for Christmas.”

“I thought of visiting you soon if not, but now when you’re coming home for Christmas I can wait until spring.”

None of her family members had come to visit her in London, she had just gone back home. Which made sense, but she still wanted to show them her life there. She would have insisted he come before Christmas if she had not had an exam coming up. She wouldn’t have much time to spare, and if he was coming to London she actually wanted to be able to see him and do things.

“You’ll have to promise you’ll come this spring. I would love to finally get to show you how I have it here.”

“I promise. Might bring Edmure too, the boy is eager to see London.”

Edmure had never been to London. When she thought of it she didn’t think he had ever been outside of Ireland.

“You should bring Edmure. It’s about time he gets to see something different.”

“A shame it’s London and not a good city.”

She didn’t like Britain, and she hated what they had done to her country. What they had put her people through. But she had nothing against London in particular. It was a okay place to live and she had made great friends there.

“London isn’t bad, he’ll like it.”

“Of course he will, the boy has no taste.”

“He’s a child” Catelyn chuckled.

“He’ll always be like this. You're a lot like your younger self, I can still see much of little Catelyn Tully in you.”

“Well, you still call me Little Cat so I figured that.”

She stopped what she was doing when her Uncle didn’t answer her. She waited a few seconds to see if he would, but her phone was silent.

“Hello?” she called.

Then she heard Brynden’s voice. She couldn’t make out what he was saying, he clearly wasn’t talking to her. Had to be his husband, he probably had to go. She didn’t have time for a long phone call anyway, so that didn't bother her at all.

“The husband insists it’s time for dinner” he informed her. “So this is farewell for now.”

“There’s no need to talk like it’s the 18th century and you’re going on an adventure at sea, just say goodbye like a normal person.”

“Life is a lot more fun if you see it as an adventure. Therefore I’m telling you farewell for now. Until next time, Little Cat.”

A smile appeared on her face.

“Goodbye, Uncle.”

The phone clicked as Brynden ended the call. Catelyn finished the dishes in silence, listening to the music coming from the living room and Ashara and Elia’s laughter. Often she dreamed of getting her own place, but in moments like those she really liked sharing a flat. Despite that it didn’t have a balcony. She took the cookies out of the oven to let them cool before she would put some in a jar for Ned. And as expected the two other women swept in like vultures.

“Don’t touch them, you’ll burn yourselves” Catelyn warned as she turned her back on the cookies to see if she could find a jar.

She was sure if that she had at least one somewhere in the back of a cupboard. Behind all that other crap they never used. She dragged a chair over and stepped up on it to be able to reach the top shelf.

“Ouch, fuck, goddamnit!”

Catelyn didn’t have to turn around to know that Ashara was jumping around, holding her burned hand to her chest. Her first words were followed by a sentence in Arabic that Catelyn strongly suspected just consisted of more swear words. Elia was laughing and a moment later the tap was running.

“Oh my poor darling” Elia chuckled.

“Told you” Catelyn said calmly.

To her triumph she found a jar. It was ugly as sin, the psychedelic flower pattern was enough to give her a headache, but it was what she had and it was a lot better than nothing.

“Yeah, but I didn’t think they were so fucking hot!” Ashara howled.

“I just took them out of the oven, what did you expect?”

“Not this!”

She rolled her eyes. It wasn’t the first time it happened and it probably wouldn’t be the last. Every time she baked either Cersei or Ashara burned a hand. No matter how many times she warned them of the heat.

“Leave the kitchen and come back in fifteen minutes when they have cooled down a bit, I promise they’ll still be here.”

“Sounds like something someone who’s planning to take the cookies away would say.”

“Just go.”

Ashara pulled a face at her before leaving the room closely followed by her girlfriend. Finally, inner peace. Half an hour later Catelyn left with half of the cookies. She had a suspicion of that the rest would be gone by the time she was back. If Cersei came home before her they would definitely be gone. But she was happy that liked what she made them. That was all she could contribute when it came to food. She didn’t even bother swearing over that the lift was still broken. She just took the stairs. It had already been dark for two hours when she stepped outside the building. She hated it. Autumn was nice, things were very pretty during autumn, but the cold and the darkness she could do without. Catelyn had been surprised when he asked if she wanted to come over to his place. They had been talking about meeting up again, and Catelyn had assumed maybe they would go for another walk or something like it. But then Ned had said that she could come to him if she wanted to, so that he could honor his promise. She was breaking a lot of safety rules when it came to meeting new people by seeing him in a private area so soon, so she hoped he wasn’t a serial killer. She had given both Cersei and Ashara his address so if she went missing they would know where to start looking. But she was very sure of that she would be fine, he was a good person. She was still nervous when she arrived at his building though, but for a completely different reason. She didn’t know what reason, but she sure was nervous. What was up with her? Why couldn’t she just go over to her friend’s place without feeling like her heart would make it’s way out of her chest. It was ridiculous. She was ridiculous. All of it was ridiculous. The building’s door required a code to be opened. She didn’t know the code, Ned hadn’t said anything about that. She took up her phone and texted him.

Code?

His answer came just a second later. It made her happy to know he had been waiting for her.

I’ll be down in a minute

Less than a minute later she saw him come down the stairs through the glass panels in the door.

“Hey” he said after having opened the door.

“Hey. Sorry I’m late.”

“No need to apologize. You’re here now, aren’t you?”

They began walking up the stairs.

“The house doesn’t have a lift” Ned said. “Sucks when you have groceries.”

Catelyn couldn’t hold back a smile at that. The house had four floors, how bad could it be? She guessed it was sort of a problem if he lived on the top floor, but that was still less than what she was used to.

“What floor do you live on?”

“The third.”

“Not to belittle your struggles or anything, but I live on the sixth floor and we have a lift, but it never works. That sucks.”

“Wow, I take back everything I said.”

When they reached the third floor there were three doors. One to the left, one to the right, and one right ahead of them. He opened the right one and then gestured for her to enter before him. He held the door open for her as she walked inside and she found herself in a small hall. Only a shoe rack and a coat hanger fit in there. Past that was a small flat, consisting of only one room and door that lead to what Catelyn guessed was a bathroom. Directly to her left was a very clean kitchen, across from it, on her right was a neatly made bed. Ahead of her on the right was a couch and a TV, and across of that was a round table with five chairs around it. On almost every flat surface there was a plant, on the window sills more than one, giving life to the otherwise white and grey room. A lamp above the table was on, but apart from that the place was only dimly lit up by smaller table lamps and fairy lights. All the walls had some sort of art on them, ranging from sketches to full paintings, the only exception was where the bookshelf was. The bookshelf didn’t seem as organized as the rest of the flat, she found no pattern, and books that didn’t fit in it had been placed in piles on top of it. The scent of coffee and something sweeter filled the air. Maybe it came from one or several of the flowers, maybe it was the laundry detergent he used, maybe it was something completely different. She didn’t know, but she liked it. It wasn’t large, but it felt so much like a home. One was immediately hit with the feeling that someone had made that small area their own. She had been in homes where it was clear that the owner only used it as a place to sleep, but so was very much not the case with Ned’s home. And best of all, he had a balcony. She would have killed for a balcony.

“Welcome to my humble home” he said, closing the door behind them.

“I love it” she responded in complete honesty.

“It turned out a lot better than I initially thought, it didn’t look very nice when I moved in.”

“One has to trust the process. And that balcony can’t have made things worse.”

“It faces an alleyway, the view is terrible.”

She didn’t care what the view was, it was the balcony itself that made her happy. Though of course she wanted her future balcony to have a nice view if it wasn’t too much to ask for. She put her bag down, and took off her shoes and her coat. She liked the shoe rack, she would have to raise the question of getting one for her own home with Cersei and Ashara.

“We don’t have to draw if you don’t want to, but I thought I would at least present the option" he said when he went inside before her.

She noticed that there was a bunch of papers and pens on the table. She also noticed that Oden was sleeping underneath it. She hadn’t seen him at first, but she smiled when she did. She didn’t think she had ever smiled at a dog.

“I’m eager to learn every little thing you have to teach me.”

“Amazing, where would you like to start?”

A class where she got to make her own curriculum, how nice.

“You said you’re good at drawing people, right? Can you teach me to draw a face?”

He sat by the table and pulled out the chair on his right.

“That shouldn’t be impossible.”

Catelyn sat next to him and they began. She believed he had said that he wasn’t a very good teacher or something close to that the previous time they had met, but she heavily disagreed. With patience he guided her through everything, redid stuff half a hundred times just so she could see it and understand. After a while the table was covered in drawings of facial features and faces from different angles. It was easy to tell which ones were his and which were hers, but she wanted to believe she was improving. And Ned said she was, he came with much encouragement. But she came to a point where it didn’t feel like it. She had trouble getting lines straight, it looked very shaky.

“I can’t get it straight” she sighed in frustration when she tried for what had to be the tenth time to get a nose right.

Ned studied her drawing and her hand for a moment before answering.

“You need to relax your hand, you’re too tense. It makes you shake.”

“I am relaxing my hand!”

He put his pen down and scooted his chair closer to her. At first she didn’t understand what he was doing but then he put his left hand over hers, gently helping her adjust her hold in order to relax her hand. Maybe she should have been focused on trying to get it right, but she was mostly focused on keeping her breathing steady. He was close to her. He was very close to her. She could smell his cologne. And he was essentially holding her hand. She kept her eyes downwards, tried to do what he wanted her to do, but she was positive her heart was going to stop.

“There you go” he said. “Try now.”

“Okay” she said, hearing that her voice was a higher pitch than usual.

She hoped he didn’t notice. She tried to keep her hand steady despite that she was shaking a lot more than she had been before.

“It looks better now, doesn’t it?” he asked.

“Yes.”

Both of them jumped in their chairs when the door opened. In stepped a man who somewhat resembled Ned, they had the same hair color and the same facial features, but he was taller. And very attractive. Catelyn had to stop herself from looking at him too much and instead turned her gaze to the dog he had with him, another German shepherd, who seemingly didn’t have Oden’s calm temper. He pulled on his leash, wanting to come over to where they sat. She hoped he would stay right where he was with that dog, she had a feeling of that she wouldn’t like it as much as she liked Oden. Oden immediately left his spot at their feet and walked to lie down in a corner of the room, clearly wanting nothing to do with the other dog. Catelyn realized that she had instinctively tensed up, so she took a deep breath and forced her shoulders down. It was just a dog. Except for that it wasn’t. It was a scary dog, and she could feel her pulse go up.

“Vad gör du här?” Ned sighed, scooting his chair away from her again.

It made a loud, scraping noise. Not like when he had came closer to her.

”Jag skrev att jag tänkte komma förbi, men du svarade inte” the man said with a shrug.

Catelyn wasn’t sure of what she was going to do, and as usual she didn’t understand a word of Swedish. She assumed he was Ned’s older brother, as they looked alike and both spoke Swedish.

“Det fanns en anledning till det” Ned said, annoyed by whatever it was that his brother had said.

But the brother didn’t seem to hear him, he instead looked at Catelyn and smiled.

“Didn’t think I’d ever see you again” he said.

She had never seen him before, what was he talking about?

“You must be mistaking me for someone else, we haven’t met” she said. “I’m sorry.”

He laughed.

“I’m not mistaking you for someone else, you don’t forget hair like that. You have nice hair.”

She tried to remember when and where she could have seen him. They didn’t have class together, she would have known if she was in the same class as Ned’s brother. Had she met him at a pub? She never got drunk enough to not remember people she had met. Was he a friend of a friend? That seemed like the most plausible explanation. She would have to ask around about that.

“Thank you, I suppose, but I have to apologize, I don’t remember you.”

It was embarrassing. She didn’t believe that had ever happened to her before, she usually remembered people. Though at least she wasn’t blushing.

“Then I won’t be the one to remind you, let’s start over” he chuckled. “I’m Brandon, the better looking one. I never got your name last time so what’s your name, sweetheart?”

“Men för fan, Brandon, bete dig!” Ned said firmly.

“Language, little brother” Brandon said. "And I am behaving."

She assumed Ned had told him to behave with a swearword thrown in somewhere. She didn't know which word it was though.

“He has a point, you’re being a bit of an arse. So please replace sweetheart with Catelyn next time, that’s my name.”

“That’s prettier than sweetheart anyway.”

He didn’t seem to be that sharpest knife in the drawer, it sounded like something out of a book on how to compliment women. But he was good looking, and maybe he was better after one got to know him.

“Thank you” she said once more, twirling her pen between her fingers.

“Vill du ha henne eller kan jag ta henne?” Brandon then said to Ned. “Hon är snygg.”

”Vad är det för fel på dig?” he responded in an exasperated voice. “If you didn’t want something important can you please take your dog and leave?”

“Du behöver inte bli sur” Brandon said, raising his free hand into the air.

“I’m not, but you’re being inappropriate towards my friend and Tor really upsets Oden. So can you leave and come back tomorrow?”

“Varför på engelska?”

“Because Catelyn doesn’t understand Swedish.”

“Du pratar inte med henne.”

“No, but she’s here.”

Catelyn certainly was there. She was also thoroughly confused. She had no idea about what Brandon was saying, and she had no idea about why Ned was talking about her. It almost would have been better if she didn’t understand anything at all instead of only getting bits and pieces.

“Look, I’m free tomorrow, you can come back then. Men nu skulle jag uppskatta om du lämnade oss.”

Brandon studied his brother for a moment, then he grinned.

“Absolutely. Godnatt.”

”Godnatt, Brandon.”

Brandon and his dog, who she assumed was named Tor, left and the door shut behind them. She had to do a lot of assuming as she didn't understand much. Oden stayed right where he was, his gaze fixated on the door like he was expecting Tor to break back in. She understood him.

“He’s most often not like that, I’m sorry” Ned said as he got up from his chair and walked over to sit by Oden on the floor. “I won’t excuse his behavior, but I want you to know that he can be nice.”

Oden immediately placed his head in Ned’s lap, but kept his eyes on the door.

“Mind if I sit with him for a bit?” he asked. “He gets stressed around Tor. They’re from the same litter and Tor partook in the puppy bullying that went one when they were little.”

“Puppies are so small and cute, how are they capable of bullying?” she said.

“Kids are small too, and they still bully each other.”

“I guess. Still hard to wrap your head around it. I mean I get it now, that was a scary dog, but a puppy?”

“Are you afraid of dogs?” he asked, surprised.

How could he be surprised about that? She had believed that she had clearly shown him that she was afraid of dogs.

“They have lots of sharp teeth, they make loud and sudden noises, large ones can easily kill you, it’s not really my thing. Oden is fine though, he’s very polite.”

Ned chuckled.

“More of a cat person, huh?”

Catelyn looked him dead in the eye.

“If you make one single cat pun I will get up and leave” she threatened.

“Based on the look on your face it feels like you have heard them all already.”

“I have heard them all. Multiple times. I doubt anyone can come up with a new one at this point. They aren’t worse than the fact that an ex used ‘Kitty’ as a nickname for me through.”

She had learned to accept KitKat, she would never learn to accept Kitty. She hated it, she was a grown woman and didn’t want to be referred to the same way one referred to a cute kitten. Luckily no one else had used that nickname and she thoroughly hoped it would stay that way.

“I take it you prefer just Catelyn, then?”

“Or Cat. I don’t mind Cat, it’s short and easy to spell.”

People never seemed to spell her name correctly on the first try. There were simply too many ways to spell the way her name was said. People often replaced the C with a K and threw in a couple of i’s for good measure. So sometimes it was easier to just go by Cat.

“I get it, often it’s easier to go by a shortened name.”

She snorted.

“Your name is three letters and super easy to spell, you don’t get to complain.”

Ned laughed at that.

“I always go by Ned, but it’s not actually my name. My name’s Eddard.”

So she had been right, Ned was short for something.

“It’s a nice name.”

“You said that about my dog too, so I don’t know what to believe.”

Had she? She had no memory of what she had said upon learning Oden’s name. It had been weeks since that. But he was probably right.

“You both have nice names, that’s all there is.”

“Thank you.”

She left her pen on the table and stood up.

“Do you want cookies?”

He shrugged.

“Cookies are good, but I unfortunately don’t have any. I would have got some if you had said you wanted it.”

“No worries, Eddard Stark” she said as she went to get her bag from the coat hanger. “I can supply the cookies.”

She pulled out the jar and went back to the table.

“Did you bake?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.

He got up from the floor.

“I hope you don’t have any severe allergies because I really don’t want to kill you, and I also hope you like chocolate chip cookies with peanut butter because that’s what I baked.”

“Sounds amazing. Can I make you some tea to go with the cookies?”

“Absolutely.”

Catelyn sat at the table again while Ned walked to the small kitchen.

“You know you didn’t have to bake” he said as he took two mugs out of a cupboard.

“I wanted to give something back to you for inviting me into your home and trying to teach me to draw. And I’m good at baking, so I thought I would bake you something” she explained.

She picked up her pen again, once more put it to the paper and tried to get the shading on the nose right so that it didn’t look so flat. Very softly she moved the tip of the pen, and found that she managed to keep her hand steady while doing so. Maybe he had managed to get something into her head, after all.

“I really appreciate it, thank you” he said and she heard him fill a kettle with water.

“It was the least I could do.”

She stopped for a moment to look at the paper in front of her. That actually looked like a nose. It wasn’t nearly as good as what he had done, but it was the best nose she had ever managed to draw. Maybe her pride was childish, it wasn’t a big accomplishment, but she really hadn’t expected to do so well. She could feel herself smile.

“What kind of tea do you want?”

“Uhm, preferably something fruity, if you have it. I like sweet teas.”

High on the feeling of success she moved onto the eyes of the person on her paper.

“Fruity? That’s not very British of you” he responded.

“I know, it’s a conscious choice. Drives one of my flatmates mad.”

Cersei refused to drink sweet teas. She only drank black tea and Earl Grey. Nothing disgusted Catelyn more than Earl Grey. She was also sure of that Cersei only refused to drink other teas out of spite. She was a very proud Brit when it came to tea.

“Is she British?”

“Yes, a born and bred Londoner. My other flatmate is from Morocco, so the British are outnumbered in my home. She’s very strict on the tea though. We’re working on humbling her, but our attempts so far have been unsuccessful.”

“It’s very hard to humble a Brit, I’ve tried.”

“Do you have any advice for me?”

“No, because I failed in epic proportions. He’s still the same.”

She looked up at him. He stood with his back to her, pouring the hot water into the mugs. She wondered who he was talking about. She would have liked to ask, but it didn’t seem like he wanted to talk about it. Whoever it was was probably a lot like Cersei. She loved Cersei, but she sure was a handful at times. Especially when it came to her Earl Grey.

“We have a word for this in Swedish” Ned said.

“You have a word for trying to humble Brits?”

That was unreasonable and way too specific. He laughed.

“That would be ‘försöka göra en brittisk person ödmjukare’, which is a sentence and not a word, but that’s not what I meant. I meant we have a word for sitting down with someone to eat a pastry or something like it and maybe drink something.”

That mad a lot more sense.

“And what’s this word?”

“Fika. Most people do it daily. We have breaks at work for fika.”

"Is that a verb or a noun?"

"Works as both. You can fika, but you can also sit down for a fika."

“That’s brilliant, there should be an English word for that.”

“One of many things I miss from Sweden.”

She turned her gaze downwards again, but found that she didn’t have the same luck with the eyes that she had had with the nose. She tried to do what he had showed her, and she looked at everything he had drawn out for her on a different paper, but she just couldn’t get it to work.

“You’re doing very well.”

Turning her head up she found him standing right behind her, leaning forward slightly to see better. And for some reason she could once more feel her heart racing in her chest. And that time he wasn’t even touching her. What was wrong with her?

“Thank you” she said.

That time she managed to keep her voice normal, so that was always something. Ned put her mug down and sat next to her again. Catelyn opened the jar and offered him a cookie before taking one herself.

“I hope you like them.”

She raised her cookie in a cheers before taking a bite. She couldn’t know what he thought, but she was more than happy with the result. Those were some tasty cookies, if she could say so herself. And based on his reaction he seemed to like them as well.

“These are really good” he said. “Like, really, really good. Screw drawing, can you teach me to do this?”

Catelyn tried to keep herself from smiling as she had her mouth full, but found that she was unable to do so and raised a hand to hide her mouth.

“This isn’t even my best, you should taste my carrot cake. I make a killer carrot cake.”

“I love carrot cake.”

“Me too.”

He paused for a moment before smiling.

“Do you want to hear a word that’s even more brilliant, but that doesn’t exist in English?”

“Definitely, share your Swedish wisdom with me.”

“Lagom. It means just the right amount of something. Not too much and not too little. It doesn’t matter what it is, anything can be lagom.”

Her phone started buzzing and she threw a glance at it. She planned on not answering, whoever it was that demanded her attention could wait, but when she picked it up to put it on silence and saw that it was Cersei she quickly changed her mind. Cersei was out with some guy Catelyn didn’t know, and maybe something had happened or she needed an out. Helping her friend was way more important than not having a small interruption.

“I’m sorry this keeps happening, but my friend’s out and I really don’t want something to happen to her” Catelyn said before taking the phone.

“You don’t need to apologize, make sure your friend is okay.”

“Hey, is everything alright?” Catelyn said after having accepted the call.

“Yeah, it’s alright, thanks for asking. And you, are you alright?”

There was nothing in Cersei’s voice that suggested otherwise and Catelyn was instantly relieved. She was okay.

“I’m good.”

“Great, I was just wondering if you and the Swede would like to come to a Christmas party?”

“What?”

“Yeah, Robert hosts these large Christmas parties every year and he’s in the bathroom at the moment so I thought I’d call you and see if you wanted to come.”

So that was the name of her boyfriend. Robert. Catelyn would have to remember that. And if she went to the Christmas party she would get to meet him too. From nothing to both a name and an opportunity to meet him in person in a matter of just a few seconds, how nice.

“Can we talk more about it when we’re both home?” she said.

There was no need to talk about it right then, both of them had other things to do. And it wasn’t like the party would be anytime soon, there was still awhile until December, they had time to talk about it later.

“Of course, I just didn’t want to forget, you know how I am. But check with the Swede, will you?”

“I’ll check with him” Catelyn promised.

“Good, I’ll se you at home.”

“See you at home.”

Ned was quite obviously pretending not to be curious, but she saw right through it. She had noticed he wasn't very good at pretending.

“My friend’s boyfriend is having a Christmas party and she wondered if we would like to go.”

He didn’t try to hide his surprise though.

“We? As in me, too?”

“She asked for you specifically, so yeah.”

She didn’t know if it was because she wanted to meet Ned or because she didn’t want to make Catelyn feel lonely. Catelyn didn’t feel lonely. She was fine on her own and it didn’t bother her that her flat mates were in relationships.

“Unless I have something else I guess I can go.”

Catelyn smiled. Before starting to speak she realized how much she had been smiling since arriving there. He made her smile a lot, he made her feel good. She liked that about him. She liked him.

“Yay! It’ll be much more fun with you there.”

“I’m not the biggest fan of parties, and I won’t know anyone. But I can try for you.”

Oh God, he was sweet. Really really sweet. Boyfriend material. Husband material. Perhaps even father material. Catelyn wished she had been interested in him. He could try for her.

“I’m not sure I’ll know anyone either. I’ve never even met her boyfriend, and I learned his name just now. So we’ll be in it together.”

“What is his name?”

It made her think of Cersei demanding names every time Catelyn met a new person and teasing her over it. But Ned didn’t know about that, he just asked a polite question.

“Robert.”

A frown appeared on his face and that, and he turned his eyes downwards for a moment.

“Robert? Robert Baratheon?” he asked.

“I don’t know, why?”

“I used to know a Robert who hosted yearly Christmas parties, that’s all. But most likely it’s just a funny coincidence. Many people have Christmas parties, there has to be more than one Robert.”

“London is a large city and Robert is not an uncommon name, the probability of it being the same person is very small.”

She would have been able to figure out the exact probability for it being the same person if she had got a bit of time. But that was unnecessary, it wasn’t hard to understand that it was low.

“You’re the one who knows math, I’ll have to trust you.”

“It doesn’t take much math to figure that out.”

“I’ll just have to trust you in general then.”

She felt like her math skills were more trustworthy than her general knowledge on stuff, but that was unnecessary information to share.

“I hope you’re not going to regret it” she said instead.

“How nice of you.”

Ned sipped his tea and finished his cookie. Then he picked up his pen again, but instead of continuing on the drawing he had started while she did hers he took a blank paper. With an incredible speed he began moving the pen over the paper, and it left Catelyn somewhat confused as it didn't look like anything he had shown her.

“What are you drawing?” she asked curiously, stretching to see better.

He glanced up at her, his gaze focused in a way that made it seem like he was studying her. It didn’t make her wonder what he was doing any less.

“Could you be still, please?” he asked gently. “Or, well, you can move, but it would be good if you remained in the same position for a bit so that I can do a quick sketch.”

Catelyn hadn’t even reflected over how she was sitting until he said it. She had pulled her legs up and was sitting cross legged on the chair, as she always sat at home. In one hand she held her half eaten cookie, and the other was fiddling with her pen. When had she picked the pen up? None of that mattered even a little though. Because he was drawing her. And she was immensely flattered, but she couldn’t wrap her mind around why.

“Why are you drawing me?”

“I just liked the setting, and thought it would make for a good drawing” he responded casually. “Och du är vacker.”

She couldn’t be entirely sure, but she believed she had heard that last word before. And the more she thought of it, the more she grew sure of that he had said it to her before.

“You’ve said this to me before, right?”

He paused for a moment, as if he hadn’t believed she would notice that. But she had noticed. And she wanted to know what the hell it was that he was saying to her.

“Might be that I have.”

“What does it mean?” she asked, putting on her most charming smile in order to convince him to tell her.

“Nothing.”

“Then there’s no reason you can’t tell me. Come on, I thought we liked each other enough for you to translate for me.”

She couldn’t tell if he was blushing or not because of his beard, but something gave her the feeling that he was. She didn’t know exactly what that word meant, but she had somewhat of an idea about what it could be.

“If you’re flirting with me it’s okay to do so in a language we both understand.”

Not even a second after the words had left her mouth she regretted having ever been born. She shoved what remained of her cookie into her mouth before taking her mug and raising it to her lips, drinking the tea despite that it was still too hot for taking more than a little sip. She would rather burn her tongue than look at him after whatever the hell that had been. He was quiet and she wondered what was going through his mind. Did he think she was stupid? Or did he think she was flirting? Was she flirting? No, that hadn’t been flirting. She wasn’t even interested in him, he was just her friend. She liked him as a friend. And still she had heavily implied that he was flirting with her. She didn’t even know if that was what he had said. She knew no Swedish at all. Fuck.

“It means you’re beautiful” he finally said. “‘Vacker’ means ‘beautiful’.”

“You think I’m beautiful?”

“You probably think I’m a total weirdo right now, and I really don’t blame you, because this was very weird. And I want you to know that I would understand if you wouldn’t want to see me anymore” Ned said, and she had never heard him talk as fast as he did in that moment. “Not that we’re seeing each other in that sense, we’re not dating, och helvete, jag gör bara det här värre för mig själv, I’m so sorry.”

He had that miserable look on his face again. The same one he had had when they spilled coffee over themselves. But all Catelyn could do was laugh. Laugh at how he felt the exact same panic that she had felt just seconds earlier. Laugh at how they were both nervous wrecks pretending to be calm.

“Are you laughing at me?” he asked.

“No, I’m not, I just think the whole situation is funny.”

“How nice, I just feel like an idiot.”

“Believe me, so do I.”

“Once again, I’m sorry for ruining everything.”

“You didn’t, Ned” she assured him. “Nothing‘s ruined. At least I don’t think so.”

Did he think so?

“So we’re fine?” he asked.

“Yeah. We’re fine.”

He looked at her for a moment before sighing. Then he kept on drawing. And so did she. They didn’t say much more, just sat in silence except for an occasional exchange of words. And even though it had started very awkwardly Catelyn soon found that it was a quite comfortable silence. She could sit with him and be quiet.

“There” he said after a while. “It’s not my best work, the colors are a bit off, and your hands look awful, but it’s okay.”

She looked at his drawing and was left speechless, wondering what his best work was if that was just okay. Because she was looking at a drawing that was very clearly her. Sitting cross legged on a chair with half a cookie in one hand and a pen in the other, smiling. So what if the color of her hair wasn’t exactly right and her fingers looked a bit weird, it didn’t matter. It was still good. It looked good.

“What was that word you called me?” she asked.

He frowned.

“What?”

“Beautiful in Swedish.”

“Uhm, ‘vacker’, why?”

Catelyn wouldn’t have been able to pronounce that correctly if so her life had depended upon it, but she could give it a try. And she would give it a try.

“Because this drawing is vacker.”

Ned smiled at that.

“You think so?”

“Definitely, I love it.”

He slid it over the table to her.

“If that is so you can have it.”

She left not much later with the drawing in her bag, her head so full of things that she two times almost tripped and fell down the stairs because she forgot to watch where she was going. Most of all she thought about Ned. Everything about him, from the way he smiled to how he had thrown in a sentence of Swedish when he was embarrassed. She also thought about how he had called her beautiful. She hadn’t known it before, but Ned believed she was beautiful. That knowledge made her chest flutter. Maybe she was interested in him after all. Just a little bit though, it would most likely pass. 

#catelyn stark #catelyn tully #ned stark #ashara dayne #elia martell #brandon stark #brynden tully #cersei lannister #ned x cat #my fic #raindrops snowflakes sunshine #after almost two weeks of promises it's here #its also a birthday gift from me to myself #a very late birthday gift but a birthday gift all the same #i hope you like it too

[vaguely-concerned]

The Mandalorian Chapter 14 reactions: HOLY SHIT THAT WAS AWESOME BUT ALSO I’M CRYING edition

- the good good din characterization is back after all the weirdness last episode!!!! that soft way he says ‘no, no, I’m not mad at you’? THAT’S din djarin, he would not be fucking impatient with his son having just been informed and seen for himself that he is terrified, go away mr filoni I know you’ve got all of canon memorized but you don’t get this lol. this feels much more right in how din being conflicted and still thinking he should give the baby away for his own good plays out too  

honestly every line of dialogue for him in this one was perfect I was just whispering ‘I love this awkward clueless wonderful man just doing his best’ to myself any time he said anything. “...does this look Jedi to you?” sir I adore you more than words can describe

- we got din chuckling. asjdklfhsdkafghsdafsadhjkfsdahjkfh. fskahfksjad. side note: I can’t believe my joke post about din desperately trying to Force home school the kid with the one (1) jedi trick he knows about and the baby being delighted by it over and over anyway -- listen to his expectant excited laugh when din takes the ball and sets up the game!!!! -- was canon all along. and then the baby & mando music kicking in when he gently put the silver ball into the baby’s hands again and tells him he’s special (because he IS special. to din)? hmng. hmmmmnnnnn  

they opened on the height of softness so we would all crumple under the weight of the rest of the episode and that was very mean of them in a way I sincerely appreciate 

- nothing to see here... just a dad trying to walk through the literal manifestation of the unassailable underlying forces of the universe to get to his baby again and again........ the desperation in that, the love, the foolhardy devotion................... shit

- okay so I might be a dumbass, but I’d never noticed this before -- the silver ball has a blue spot on the top, like so: 

and in addition we get the room where the baby goes full darth grogu (I have to laugh so I don’t cry okay) on those storm troopers, and there’s a red light in there dominating the room (and it did even more in the concept art):

in star wars blue means light side and red means dark side (it’s very sophisticated that way), meaning the visual storytelling here is that there’s a battle for the baby’s soul and gideon and all his nonsense (and the trauma bb’s been through in the wider sense) is pulling towards the dark, while grogu and din’s connection leads him towards the light. just... the image of the baby looking at his own reflection in the symbolic representation of his relationship to din? the way children find their sense of self through being safely reflected and held by their caretakers? god help meeeeeee I will go in there and fistfight gideon myself for disrupting that in any way  

the smaller light seems to be blue too, like there’s still the presence of light even if it’s dimmed and small in that shitty horrible room, which is a change from the concept art!

- FENNEC SHAND SURVIVED BITCHES!!! I even called that she’d be back with new shiny robot parts back in season 1, could not happen to a cooler lady, I hope we get more backstory and interaction from her the next episodes -- sounds like she’s basically sworn herself to boba’s service in gratitude for saving her life, I wonder if that’s a cultural thing of whereever she comes from? does she live aboard slave 1 now too?? because that would be hilarious and amazing, it must be like two strange cats trying to get used to sharing the same space   

- everything I could ever hope for about boba fett in this series came true, they went down the much more interesting and nuanced route with jango and boba’s identities as mandalorians, he looked cool as fuck and made din as a character shine rather than overshadowing him... amazing beautiful yesss 

(I did 100% not anticipate just how ‘cool uncle boba here to help you fuck shit up’ he was going to be but I am delighted to get it anyway. uncle points deducted for getting someone to point a gun at the baby, but the main point still stands lol) 

the power and brutality of his hand to hand fighting too... a w e s o m e , I enjoyed the action scenes a lot in this one

- they even recanonized him actually wearing jango’s armour. what more could I ask for. I’ve had confused parent & child feels about these two since I was like eleven and here we fucking go again. and jango fighting in the mando civil wars too!

- so I’m grieving the razor crest (and I always will be, rip you magnificent jalopy, always in my heart) but also there’s the grim satisfaction that my reading on it was sort of true -- it is (...was. oh god it’s going to take a while to sink in huh) a symbol of din’s self and life, and at this point when they take the baby it tears everything else to pieces. the only thing that’s left in the ashes is the beskar and the thing that connects him to the baby. and there’s... a strange solace in seeing that that’s all he needs to keep going? he’s fucking obliterated from orbit but he still has his love for the baby and the beskar and that can keep him going until he finds something new, everything else can be replaced?????? weirdly healing, though he is probably going to have a solid breakdown at some point after they get the kid back (shut up they are getting the kid back) and the cold distant fog lifts 

also this scene/shot feels like it carries some Meaning, doesn’t it? I’m on record several times saying I never want din to be mand’alor and that’s still true, but there’s something about the framing of this and the way boba looks at him that’s like... hm. I’m not sure I have the words for it. there’s something heightened about it, anyway, for a moment he looks like something mythic there in the wreckage 

(something I would be much cooler with is our clan of two growing a little bit and those new people rallying behind him, actually, that might be neat. imagine if a force user does show up for the baby and gets adopted into the clan somehow??? so many possibilities.) 

- from the way he picks up the silver ball... din djarin is on his way to straight up murder some people huh

I think part of what reassures me about this scene is the music -- this mando flute is not distant, is not beaten, is not despondent, it’s clear and determined and strong.

- 

I love this. I love when we get explicit baby POVs, it makes it feel so real and intimate and... like home. (I especially loved baby’s point of view inside the razor crest, which just made me tear up again. baby lost the closest thing he’s had to a home in a long long time on top of it all. everything is suffering)

-

Emotionally Significant Thumb Grabbing tm; the show

- din djarin looking for the ‘on’ switch on a magic rock fhsdakjfhsadlfhsdjah I can’t breathe

 “Well, this is the seeing stone. Are you. Seeing anything?” fsafkdsajhfsa sdhfksjalhfkjsdahfkjsdhf

- the energy around the baby as he’s, in ahsoka’s words, ‘choosing his path’ is blue, and the force sort of works across time and space, right?? so there’s definitely still hope for our lil green bean to not have to come up with a really dumb unsubtle sith name for himself, as is regrettably yet delightfully tradition. darth babbu should never come to pass (I do like how they’re interrogating the normal dark/light side dichotomy in this series, seeing as this is a literal baby who can’t really be responsible for that stuff himself yet and has such capacity for both.)  

- listen. listen, the way din says ‘can you please hurry up’ with no sarcasm or real impatience whatsoever, more like a harried worry, to his force-meditating son as he jogs off to make sure no one’s trying to kill them. is hilarious and also YES this is what the character is!!! weirdly and incongruously polite under stress sometimes and with a slightly odd reaction pattern to things!!! he’s not just quiet and badass, he’s a little strange sometimes and it’s so good!  

- a friendly opening volley warning shot from boba there

also din uncertainly asking BOBA FETT if he’s a jedi... now this is the dramatic irony I’ve been looking for haha 

I guess neither shand nor boba actually know din’s name after this either. baby you gotta start introducing yourself at some point it gets real confusing when there are two mandos on screen 

oh the long weary sigh going through din’s frame when boba says he wants ‘the armour’ and he thinks it’s just someone trying to peel the beskar off his corpse again. sorry the galaxy’s so shitty dad   

- “But fate sometimes steps in to rescue the wretched” is a killer line well done mr favreau. I like that boba actually offers din a good deal as well and seems to intend to deliver on it from how things are going. 

- din using his beskar-covered bod to cover someone he’s fighting alongside!!! literal moving cover haha. also I love fennec’s costume design  

- I don’t know where din got more whistling birds from and I don’t care, it was really cool haha 

-

wow haha um so anyway -- 

(cue all the ‘who wore it better’ with cobb vanth’s ‘spiderman’s first home made costume’ look on one side and ABSOLUTE UNIT DADDY boba fett on the other side posts lol)

- aaaghh the music almost like a stunned desperate fluttering heart beat as din watches the razor crest be destroyed 

- for someone who has willingly worked for them in the past boba sure sounds less than thrilled about having the empire back in any capacity 

- oof the deadness in din’s voice when he says “The child is gone”. ooooh no that got me  h e l p 

- guessing next episode is at least partly a ‘gathering old allies and preparing the assault’ step before the grand finale, then! they cannot go for the season ender cliffhanger with this, I will fucking riot. anything can be up in the air except baby and dad being separated, I will not allow it

it would be very funny if the force user baby called out to comes stumbling into the middle of all this like the troy entering the room with pizzas meme too 

- the music in the darth grogu scene is partially a dark mirror of the baby & mando music :’( is nothing in this world sacred

also from how he reaches out for it baby might have used a light saber before in the past with the jedi? ngl the idea of baby wielding the dark saber not when he’s all grown up but in like two episodes -- with all the chaos a toddler holding a laser sword would involve -- is all that is keeping me sane here 

‘liable to put an eye out with one of these’ well gideon you sure have doomed someone to lose an eye with that one, here’s to hoping it’s you, for full dramatic payoff 

he is a deliciously smug awful force with great musical cues tho, you have to give it to him

- okay so this

is obviously awful and horrible and it makes me so sad... but it is undeniably also very very very funny in how it’s framed. you know what? after all this bullshit baby grogu can have a little dark side tantrum, as a treat, we’ve all been there right

(forget finding a jedi, we need to go out there and find a child psychologist who can help him deal with this without adding the fear that he’s on the path to become a two foot tall evil space sorcerer to the mix Y_________Y) 

- rip the razor crest except for the second time :’’’( gone but never forgotten

- the last thing din tells the baby is “I’m gonna protect you; I’ll be back soon”. and I hope that stays with the kid somehow and that it actually comes true, that din will be back for him as soon as humanly possible and all this pain and fear can be repaired. ggggghhhhh my emotions are too big for my dumb human body 

#star wars #the mandalorian #the mandalorian spoilers #the mandalorian meta #okay I'm gonna have to. go take a calming walk or something after this haha