#but you know. they will be fighting an uphill battle without her

[stozer]

thinking about taissa in yellowjackets and mental illness specifically when she's talking to shauna and shauna is like i had all these plans that i didn't do because of the crash whereas taissa literally did everything she planned... but looking at their lives like shauna seems so stuck in the past married to her dead best friend's boyfriend and the others too all have this problem to an extent like nat especially is actively wallowing in her misery as an adult completely incapable of escaping it even temporarily without drugs but taissa is, if anything, the most stuck in the past because she absolutely refuses to acknowledge what happened and it shapes her life entirely, her life that doesn't feel real... her happy marriage is a farce her dream of running for office is completely unviable because of people's knowledge of her past, her relationship with her son being that he's ultimately afraid of who she is 'deep down', her other self, but like the other self IS her! like it's her pain her trauma and she literally doesn't want anyone to see it. and she's RIGHT to, because when they see it, they're afraid, they stay away from her, they say she's dangerous, terrifying. and that's straight up because they don't know her. only the other yellowjackets know her truly. everyone else literally only knows the front she puts on, even her wife and son. she's already fighting such an insane uphill battle as a black lesbian in general but specifically in politics, and everyone wants to KNOW. they want to know what she did and they want to see her bleed, they want to see her break, and she is so steadfast to not let them see it - but she can't escape it. you can't escape your trauma and what it has done to you, and that's all she wants, but it's boiling over, it's breaking her at the seams.

#GOD isn't it so compelling when the one thing a character wants more than anything is the one thing they can't have. #it's so good what do you want me to sayyyyy #i missed everyone talking about it because i didn't watch it when it aired so this will keep happening #yellowjackets #taissa turner

[avocado-writing]

not your fault, but mine

tangerine x single mother!reader (with tangerine being paternal, I know y’all love that)

2.1k words

cw: kidnapping, brief child endangerment, a lot of swears for the wordcount

tag list:  @honestlywtfisgoingon @white-wolf-buckaroo @felhomaly @venusthepirate @lunarpansexual @wanderedaway @georgiee-riviere @mushywutty @piechans @apieceoffabulousshit @4ng3l-0n-34rth @minjaz @starl1g4t @earth-elemental18 @luhvbot​ @underratedboogeyman @july-is-summer @vocalvixen20cp @northerngalxy​ @tangerinesgf @chaoticroaddreamerpasta @rxcently @skrrten @nightmarefeast @lost-lila​ @hardcore-flower @mrsdanieljackson

a/n: thank you to @lady-jane3​ for being my beta! if you enjoy this fic you will probably enjoy this one by @whatstruthgottodowithit​!

Tangerine has been a little bit in love with you since the two of you first met. 

Sometimes it’s pertinent for handlers to be sent on missions with their agents in the field. Insider intel and all that jazz, overseeing what’s going on. When he saw you in the hotel lobby waiting for him and his brother he was smitten with the smart black dress and look of professional interest you wore; but he was fucked when he heard you laugh at one of his jokes. 

It was enchanting. You were enchanting. 

You wriggled your way into his affections without even meaning to. You worked well with them both, and you were easy on the eyes and on the soul. Strong and capable in your own right, too. The job was easy because you were there; and when you all went out to celebrate that night it didn’t hurt that you were so receptive to Tangerine’s advances you’d ended up shagging him by the recycling bins round the back of the pub.  

The fact that you’d exchanged private numbers afterwards was a welcome surprise though. Tangerine isn’t usually the sort of bloke people are interested in having a long term relationship with, so he’d expected it to be a one-and-done sort of night. But then there you were the next week, getting coffee back in London. Like the two of you were civilised people, not involved in the business of murder for hire. 

It became a weekly thing. No more fucking, not yet anyway; just sitting there and chatting. He found himself looking forward to it each Friday. Seeing your smile, hearing your laugh again. It was a few macchiatos later you dropped the bomb. 

“If this is going to be a thing, you’d better know I have a daughter.”

He peered at you from over the ceramic rim of his coffee cup. 

“Right.”

“If it’s a problem, we call it here. She’s the most important thing to me. I like you a lot, Tangerine, but if a single parent is too much for you to handle I need to know now. So you don’t break my heart.”

You were upfront about it and he respected that. Maybe if you were anyone else he’d turn tail and run at that announcement. 

But you weren’t anyone else. You were you. Gorgeous, wonderful you. 

“That’s alright with me.”

The grin you gave him made him know he’d made the right choice. 

Then the moment he’d been bricking it over came. After a few evening dates and a couple of dalliances with you in local hotels, he was introduced to your daughter. She was a shy, quiet girl of six, who hid behind you and peeked out at him from the safety of her mum as a shield. 

“This is my friend Tangerine, love. Are you going to say hello?”

When she shook her head and hid her face in your shirt, Tangerine knew he was in for an uphill battle. But he’d fight it, for you. 

It was like trying to dig a tunnel through an iceberg with a spoon. The process was long and tiring. But he always made sure to be thankful whenever he was invited along to one of your days out with your daughter, to be given a chance to be part of the family. 

Your daughter is cautious. It sounds like you had a nasty breakup with her dad, and you never discuss it much - but your little one has trouble trusting new men because of it, it seems. But as the ice starts to melt around her he finds himself loving her as much as he loves you. 

He knows he can’t buy someone’s affections. But when he shells out an eye-watering amount for a stuffed dinosaur at the Natural History Museum and your daughter beams at him, he thinks it might be alright to cheat a bit. 

She might be quiet, but she’s concise when she speaks; pithy and never using more words than she needs to. Still she has that same intensity many young children do. She reminds him of Lemon, actually, back when they were kids: sincere to a fault, but affectionate in her own way. 

When she first held his hand in a crowd out in public, Tangerine grinned harder than when he heard West Ham got into the FA Cup final (didn’t win though, did they? Fucking Liverpool). Maybe he didn’t sign on to have a kid in his life, but he can’t help but feel incredibly lucky it ended up happening. And sitting with you cozied up on one side of him and your daughter falling asleep on his arm on the other, he’s even more surprised that he’s genuinely happy.

He heads to your house with a bouquet of flowers for you and a toy in garish packaging for your daughter. Oh, he’s going to earn points for this one - she never asked for it outright, but he’s seen the way she lights up whenever the advert comes on the telly. He’s not Lemon, but he’s still smart enough to pick up on these things.

And you’ll be pleased she’s happy, of course. And when you’re pleased it usually leads to him being pleased later that night.

But the blood in Tangerine’s veins freezes when he sees your door is ajar. You don’t leave it open, ever, and he can hear his heartbeat thunder when he nudges it and sees broken glass behind.

He drops the toy, and the flowers burst into petals on the concrete as he runs inside. 

It’s a mess. The coffee table is shattered, furniture has been overturned - and, fuck, there’s blood on the carpet. Signs of a struggle.

He shouts for you at the top of his lungs, for your daughter, sweeping the house and checking anywhere someone could be hiding. He comes up empty. Fuck. Fuck! How could he let this happen? 

Dazed, he heads into your bedroom. Sits on the bed. Fishes his phone out of his pocket, numbly taps your number to dial it. 

He doesn’t hear your phone go in the house. It rings off to voicemail. 

Right. Okay. Right. You must have it with you. That’s something.

Adrenaline surging through his body, he checks to see if your location is turned on. It is. Whatever happened, you made sure to know you could be found.

He stands up, clenches his fist so hard his knuckles turn white, and starts to call Lemon as he leaves.

You wake up to the taste of metal in your mouth. Christ, your head hurts. It’s a sharp ache that reverberates around your skull. Something sticky is running down from your forehead and has gummed your left eye shut, but you look around with your right the best that you can.

Some sort of warehouse. Of course. How original. Things begin to come back to you: the men smashing your door in, the couple you managed to deal with before you were overwhelmed. Your hand still hurts from the punch you delivered to someone’s nose, and you remember the satisfying crunch it made. Oh, god - and your daughter trying to run away but getting caught -

You call her name and you feel a shuffling against your back; you try to move before you realise you’ve been restrained. Hands bound behind you, ankles tied to chair legs. With a groan you crane your neck as far as it will go to take a look.

Your daughter comes to, groggy. You can just about make out her familiar shape in your periphery. If they’ve harmed a single hair on her head, you’re going to set this fucking building alight with every cunt who did this still inside. 

“Love?”

She lets out a little sob of terror. 

“Mum, what happened?”

“I’m not sure, sweetheart. Are you alright? Did they hurt you?”

She takes a moment to answer, her voice shaking.

“I’m… I’m okay, I think.”

You hope she’s telling the truth, and not just lying to seem brave for you. It’s not like you can turn around and check, is it?

Alright, one thing at a time. You test the restraints. No luck, shit. They’re done tight. With multiple zip ties it feels like. It’s a chore to steady your breathing but you manage to do it, and talk yourself through what you remember.

They burst in, attacked you mostly in silence, but they were talking as they choked you out - about what? Focus, focus. 

Oh, fuck. A sentence comes back to you.

‘Let’s see how he likes it when he finds out we have his bird.’

Tangerine. This is all about Tangerine.

You hold back stupid tears. Crying isn’t going to solve anything, is it? But you want to, though. You want to cry over being weak enough to get fucking kidnapped, at being enough of a vulnerability to Tangerine that they’d take you to hurt him, that you got your daughter mixed up in all of this.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

The door at the end of the warehouse space swings open. A man crosses over, a balaclava obscuring his face. Despite it all you can’t help but let out a little laugh - how fucking old school, you half expect him to whip out an Anonymous mask.

“Not sure what you’re having a giggle at, love. Seems to me there’s not anything funny about the situation you’re in.”

“Oh, what do you fucking want?” you snap, squaring up the best you can under the circumstances. Keep a brave face for her. The man rolls his eyes. 

“Well, darling, a very nasty man likes to get his end away with you. So we figured you’d be a useful bargaining chip when dealing with him. See, he’s pissed off the wrong person, and they’re interested in making sure he pays dearly for it. And the fact you arrange his little missions means this is a two-for-the-price-of-one deal.”

Your daughter whimpers. You bare your teeth at him.

“I don’t give a fuck what you do for me, but let her go. She didn’t do anything, she’s a child.”

The man rolls his eyes.

“What, so she can go running straight to him to tell him where you are? Don’t think so, sweetheart. No, much better to make sure she’s here. Safe. With us.”

He grins and it makes you feel sick. You open your mouth to lay into him, but a beeping from the walkie-talkie at his belt stops you. He grabs it and turns his back to you. 

“What?”

There’s the unmistakable sound of gunfire on the other end.

“Oh, fuck, they’re -” is as far as the speaker gets, before he’s cut off with a bloody gargle. The man freezes for a moment, but he’s been distracted long enough - you’ve managed to wiggle one foot free from your restraints and you bring it up as hard as you can between his legs. The man screeches in agony and drops to the floor.

You call for your daughter and tell her to work on her bindings. You feel her struggle behind you. She’s small, maybe she’ll be nimble enough to get free…

The man gets back up all too quickly. 

“You bitch,” he spits, and pulls out a knife from around his back. You feel the blood leave you.

Please don’t kill me in front of my daughter.

Any further action he was going to take, however, is somewhat interrupted by the fact a quarter of his head explodes all over you as a bullet flies through it. He looks shocked for a moment before collapsing for the last time.

They’re here. Tangerine and Lemon are dishevelled, covered in blood, and looking worse for wear - but they’re here. Tangerine lowers his gun and runs over to you, dropping to his knees to check you over.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, get her!” you say, motioning back towards your daughter. Tangerine doesn’t need telling twice. He picks up the abandoned knife and starts working on freeing the little girl behind you, as Lemon finishes closing the distance to help you.

You hear your daughter sob in relief and see Tangerine stagger back as she launches herself into his arms.

“Dad!” she cries, burying her little face in his neck. Tangerine doesn’t have an answer to that. It’s the first time you’ve ever seen him properly dumbstruck: standing there, covered in blood and holding your child with wide eyes. 

“That’s a lot to unpack,” Lemon mutters with a smile as he finishes letting you go. You stand up and give him a tight hug.

“Am I glad to see your ugly mugs,” you sigh. 

“Oi, easy! If you want to keep kissing this ugly mug,” Tangerine says, and it makes your daughter giggle even if she doesn’t loosen her grip.

A bubble of laughter escapes from your lips. Pure relief. Oh, fuck, this could have been bad. It wasn’t though.

Not when you’ve got your boys around to watch your back.

#tangerine x reader #tangerine x you #tangerine x y/n #yes its a mumfield and sons lyric and uhhhh i will NOT be taking my music taste into question thank you xoxox #divider by firefly-graphics

[tsukimefuku]

Colleagues in arms

Nanami and Higuruma are dispatched on a mission together, having to conciliate their personal issues in order to get the job done.

tags: Jujutsu Kaisen, these two are a well coordinated duo, canon-typical violence.

wc: 3.7K

This is part of my "Jujutsu Partners Canon Divergence AU". A sequence of short stories and random drabbles related to Nanami x Reader x Higuruma. To see the ever-growing list of one-shots and short stories, please visit my masterlist :) This is especially preceded by "Right, wrong and the in-between epilogue" here, and "Team Fighting", here.

Disclaimer: these stories are NOT written and posted in chronological order of events. To see where this story fits in the timeline, please check the masterlist mentioned above.

There had been reports of a curse inside a government office used for safeguarding documents. The sheer bureaucracy to evacuate the few workers they had was enough of a hassle, delaying Nanami's and Higuruma's entrance.

That alone had rendered Nanami in a foul mood, given they'd only have around an hour and a half to exorcize this curse without incurring in overtime. 

He found that highly unlikely to happen.

"You should be aware that I will not be sacrificing myself or taking any damage in order to save your life, so be mindful when in battle" Nanami said, while he and Higuruma made their way inside the building, and Ijichi lowered a veil over them. Nanami was referring to all the occasions that you saved Higuruma to your own detriment, and the supposedly main reason he still held  resentment against the former lawyer.

To be fair, Nanami already questioned his luck when assigned this mission to shepherd on Higuruma, considering all the available options to accompany the former curse user other than himself.

Higuruma looked at him, and replied indifferently, "same to you, so perhaps we both shouldn't put ourselves in harm's way." 

Nanami sighed and looked at his wristwatch. One hour and 26 minutes remaining for the end of his shift. 

"So, this is common for jujutsu sorcerers? Having to exorcize curses inside government run buildings?" Higuruma asked, putting his hands in his pockets.

"I couldn't say. I don't pay much mind to that, specifically."

"Hm. And how often the work of a jujutsu sorcerer is related exclusively to exorcizing a curse, not involving curse users or other cursed energy related events?"

"I'd say about 90% of the times we're dispatched for a mission, it ensues solely exorcizing a cursed spirit" Nanami noted.

Higuruma huffed, seemingly amused with something, and began speaking again. "From what I've been told, curses just keep spawning as long as there is cursed energy leaking from non-sorcerers, right?"

"That is correct."

"So, are we Sisyphus?" Higuruma finally asked.

Slightly entertained by the commentary, Nanami decided to indulge it. "Constantly pushing the same boulder uphill, just to have it fall over and push it up again the next day? Yes, one could say that we are doing Sisyphus deeds."

"And all that while risking our death or the death or of our colleagues every time there is a curse to be exorcized?"

"Yes."

"Ah, this is idiotic work. Jujutsu sorcerers are idiots" the former lawyer replied, absentmindedly.

Nanami looked at him as he said that, nearly forgetting his distaste for the man for a moment.

"Interestingly enough, I've been saying the same thing for years."

***

“They’re what now?” You asked again, as Shoko slid her fingers on her phone’s screen, completely unbothered.

“They went together on a mission today. Since it was in a particularly important building that definitely should not withstand a lot of damage, Yaga didn’t want to send you to shepherd on Higuruma, because, I mean, you know” Shoko said, motioning an explosion with her hands right after, alluding to your cursed technique. "So you're stuck with me for the day."

“Oh, damn” you sighed to yourself, picking up your phone to text both men. From your last accidental joint mission, you remembered Nanami had a distaste for Higuruma. The situation had been like this ever since you got severely injured due to the former lawyer’s irresponsibility on the battlefield, and the 7:3 sorcerer certainly knew how to hold a grudge. 

"What?” Shoko asked.

“I mean, Nanami hates Higuruma ever since the poisoning debacle.”

“Oh, he does?” Shoko asked, looking at you and smiling, something else behind it beyond simple amusement. “It figures.”

“Huh? Figures? Why?” 

“Never mind” she said, brushing you off. "But why are you worried, anyway? It's not like they'll fail this just because they don't like each other. Nanami is a great sorcerer, and the lawyer guy seems to be at least a decent one."

"They'll probably headbutt their way through this" you sighed.

"Why are you so insistent that they get along, anyway?" She inquired.

"Well, first of all, Nanami is a close friend. Beyond that, Higuruma is also becoming a good friend, and I like the people I consider important in my life to get along. They'd be good friends if they got over their differences, that's all."

"'Close friend', huh?" She asked, grinning.

"Shoko, leave me alone" you replied, looking at her with a sour face, while you stepped out of the room, phone still in hand.

***

Nanami and Higuruma felt their phones vibrating at the same time.

Higuruma pulled it from his pocket to check it out, and saw a text message from you that said 'I hope your mission goes well today, try making new friends other than me'. He smiled and put it away.

"It is not advisable to check our phones when on duty, it can be a problematic distraction" Nanami pointed out, while they took the stairs to investigate each floor, one at a time. It would take some time, though, considering there were five floors, and they were still on the second.

"I believe I heard your phone, too" Higuruma replied.

"My phone did receive a message, yes" the other sorcerer replied.

"Well, I guess it's something you'll want to read, that's all."

Higuruma suspected you'd be up to antics like these, and he particularly knew how to poke curiosity into people, even the most stoic of them. Those such as his current mission partner.

Nanami held the urge to roll his eyes at himself, realizing the bait had worked on him. He pulled his phone quickly from his pocket, only to see a message from you. Upon reading it, the message just said 'please, be nice'. The man sighed heavily, and could hear Higuruma huff an almost chuckle.

"It's her, isn't it?" He inquired.

"It is" the ratio sorcerer answered, putting his phone away. "What did she send you?"

"She wished me a good day and told me to try 'making new friends'. And you?"

"She told me to be nice" Nanami replied as he involuntarily sighed, yet again, feeling his chest flattening.

"I have a deal, if it would interest you" Higuruma told Nanami, "given that it is evident she wants us to get along, and you still don't like me. It will take her off our backs."

Getting reeled in and completely aware of that, Nanami asked, "and what would that deal entail?"

"You tell me why you dislike me, I get a chance to make a statement myself, and if we still don't get along, we might just pretend we do just to get her off our case. I'd appreciate that a lot." 

Higuruma knew full well that Nanami disliked him, and the ratio sorcerer, on the other hand, made no effort whatsoever to actually conceal his dislike for him. However, ever since the conversation the three of you shared about how important the Jujutsu Society potentially was, as flawed as it had always been, he'd grown to at least respect Nanami.

"Would you?" Nanami pretended to ponder for a second. "How unfortunate, then."

Higuruma sighed. "I'm disappointed, but not surprised."

They were both engulfed in silence until stepping up the metal stairs towards the third floor.

"I'll just probe you, then" the former lawyer stated, completely out of the blue, having Nanami grunt lowly in discontentment. He realized the 7:3 sorcerer was someone he'd be able to derive answers from by eliciting in Nanami the urge to correct anything he deemed to be a wrong statement.

Nanami entertained the idea of losing Higuruma inside the building and exorcizing the curse on his own, if even for a moment.

"Well, first of all, I believe you dislike me because I'm a former curse user" Higuruma began. Nanami stayed silent, so he proceeded, "and I also think your dislike stems from the occasion she was poisoned after our third mission, you two seem like close friends."

"She was poisoned due to your irresponsibility, you should add."

"Due to my irresponsibility, yes. But since then, I've apologized and improved. Also, there's a piece of information that I've learned from Shoko."

They were rounding the last corner on the third floor before proceeding to take the stairs again.

"And what would that be?" Nanami asked him, pushing his glasses into place.

"This wasn't the first time she was bedridden for aiding someone on the field. The same thing happened before, and from what I've been told, she was protecting you in that instance."

That definitely got under Nanami's skin, even if his impassive facade remained unwavering.

"Is that so?" He began. "You must've learned, also, that it wasn't due to recklessness on my end, but due to unforeseen circumstances during our mission that made her sacrifice the best alternative in place."

"If you could have stopped her, even considering her decision was the best at that moment, would you have done so?" Higuruma asked, looking directly at the other sorcerer.

Nanami stayed silent for a few moments. "Yes, I would."

"Me too. I'd prefer taking the hit."

Nanami looked at Higuruma, slightly caught off guard. The other continued to speak. 

"Unfortunately, that woman does what she wants, and we're left to deal with it" Higuruma answered, looking forwards. "We are in a more similar situation than you'd like to admit, so my current hypothesis is that's precisely the reason you dislike me. Am I remembering you about your own guilt from that event?"

Nanami chose to be silent, as he was having flashbacks from you probing him like a relentless little devil. He felt a small surge of nostalgia and annoyance at that, simultaneously.

Maybe Higuruma was more akin to you, after all.

They rose through the stairs towards the third floor, and still no sign of the curse, or remnants from cursed energy that could be used as leads. Nanami noticed it, given he knew how unusual that was.

"So, is this normal? Not bumping into anything throughout the entire vicinity, or most of it, when looking for a curse?" Higuruma asked the ratio sorcerer, almost as if reading his mind.

"No, it definitely is not. We should be on high alert from now" Nanami replied, pulling his blunt blade from his back. Following suit, Higuruma manifested his gavel on his hand, having it being around the size of a katana.

Rounding the last corner and walking down the hall towards the stairs, they finally felt the cursed energy emanating from the fifth floor. 

"Go ahead, I'll follow your lead" Higuruma said to Nanami, much to the latter's surprise. Apparently, you had been training Higuruma on coordinating with other sorcerers when in joint missions, and he clearly learned some things.

Nanami nodded and proceeded to go upstairs, just to be met by a passage closed with vines. Their cursed energy, though, was very faint, what would explain why neither him nor Higuruma had sensed the cursed spirit's presence. It felt almost like a non-cursed entity.

Using his blunt blade, Nanami struck a 7:3 critical hit on the vines, tearing them apart completely. On the last floor, the walls, floor, and ceiling were all completely covered in leaves, flowers and branches, and the flowery humid smell was overpowering.

Both sorcerers stepped inside, and the vines behind them closed the path back down again.

Nanami began walking in front of Higuruma, and stopped every thirty to forty steps or so in order to make a cursed energy marking over the vines where the walls should be. 

Remembering Higuruma was still somewhat new to this job, he thought it would be a good idea to explain what he was doing, if only for the man to learn something.

"I'm currently leaving breadcrumbs as we walk" Nanami began, "because this curse has covered the entire floor. Curses and cursed techniques are able to, sometimes, bend time or space, so-"

"So you're making sure this one isn't putting us in some sort of spatial loop, or has broken physics." Higuruma interjected. "Making cursed energy markings is the best way to do so, since these vines regenerate and would easily cover any other thing, like an object, for instance. The cursed energy markings leave remnants that we can feel in case they get covered up."

Nanami was pleasantly surprised at how quickly Higuruma was able to grasp the workings of jujutsu sorcery and curse exorcising.

"I see you have been dedicating some time to learn about the work of jujutsu sorcerers."

"Of course. This is the way forced on me to atone for my crimes. I should at least try to be the best I can be at it."

***

They had been trying to cut the curse down to shreds for at least thirty minutes. However, every time they did, the curse instantly grew back, covering every area on the fifth floor.

The cursed energy markings, however, had not disappeared or shifted places, proving that neither of them was stuck inside a spatial loop, just dealing with a very annoying curse.

Even though there was a desire to preserve the integrity of the building's internal structure, which stopped Nanami from using his collapse technique, the sorcerer asked himself if it wasn't better to just have you called instead of him and Higuruma. Your cursed technique would be a much better fit for this, especially when using the corrosive type of grenades.

"They should've called her, she'd melt these things in no time" Higuruma said, sitting on the ground to rest a little before coming up with another plan other than trying to blunt force all the vines away.

"Hm, I was just thinking the same thing" Nanami replied, "but apparently they couldn't, because this is a place used by the government to keep records of some sort. They couldn't risk having it destroyed."

"So, let's take some time to come up with a plan?" Higuruma asked. Nanami checked and about forty minutes had passed, to which he sighed.

"Why do you keep checking your watch?"

"Because my shift should be over by 6 PM, and I loathe having to work overtime."

Higuruma sighed, scratching his forehead. "You're probably right."

They were both silent for a moment, before Nanami began speaking again.

"How does your domain expansion work?" This was the first time that Nanami actually spared some time to ask Higuruma about his cursed techniques, and the former lawyer was a little surprised his colleague actually asked him about it.

"Well, it was the first thing I ever manifested. My domain expansion is an extension from what I used to work with before becoming a curse user, and later on a jujutsu sorcerer. My shikigami puts my opponent on trial. The target gets to make a statement, I do a rebuttal, and then Judgeman issues its sentencing. The options are absolution, confiscation and death penalty. The last one turns my gavel into a sword that can kill or exorcize anything upon immediate contact. But the tried one has to be sentient, so I don't think I could do it against this curse, it barely resembles a curse." 

"Your domain was the first thing you manifested?" Nanami asked, somewhat surprised.

"Yes. Is that uncommon?"

"Very. I don't have a domain expansion, just like most sorcerers."

"Oh, I didn't know" Higuruma admitted.

Nanami sighed for a moment, knowing they'd be stranded there for a while, before asking, "how did it happen?"

He had finally become curious about his colleague, after realizing the man wasn't such a bad sorcerer after all, and found that conversing with him was actually interesting. They had to take a break after all, to come up with some plan in order to exorcize this pest of a curse.

"Well, I had a client that was innocent. The evidence in his favor was abundant. He got a favorable verdict the first time around, but then, after the prosecution appealed, his innocence verdict was overturned, basically because neither judge nor prosecutor were actually trying to administer justice. They simply wanted to appease the media. I was so incredulous and angry that my cursed technique manifested in the Courtroom, and-"

Higuruma took a breather.

"And I killed them both of them out of my own volition. That's all. Then I just went around Morioka exorcizing curses until she found me and brought me to Tokyo." He sighed. "Did you know Japan has a 99% conviction rate? It's... It was hard, trying to fight a loosing war. By the end, it also felt like pushing a boulder uphill over and over again, except I rarely reached the peak of the mountain."

Nanami could sympathize, having been someone chewed by jujutsu sorcery and, for some time, corporate cogs himself.

"What about you? You left jujutsu sorcery for a while, from what I could understand."

Nanami sighed and pushed his glasses up his nose before continuing. "I did. I worked for a an over-the-counter brokerage house as soon as I left Jujutsu High."

"Really? Which one?"

After Nanami answered the name, Higuruma scoffed.

"When I was in law school, they plucked students out of the classroom like weeds in a field."

"Is that so?" Nanami inquired.

Higuruma nodded. "The ones that went there were basically the people that went to law school for money." 

Nanami let out an almost chuckle at that. He wasn't the only one on that sprint, after all.

Higuruma was silent for a moment, before proceeding. "Why did you come back?"

"Because even though I thought jujutsu sorcery was idiotic when I left, and still do, I discovered that a 9 to 5 job is just as idiotic. Out of the two idiotic things I could do, I chose the one I'm better at."

"Hm" Higuruma hummed, tilting his head as he looked at Nanami.

"What?" The ratio sorcerer asked.

"Doesn't ring very true, no offense. You don't seem like the utilitarian type to that degree" the former lawyer answered.

"What do you mean?"

"You look like you actually care" Higuruma replied.

"Hm, interesting. You're the second person to tell me that."

***

After chatting for a while, Nanami and Higuruma had come to the conclusion that the curse would probably have a main core from where the vines stemmed from, and began following them to find the source. 

The vines were all leading towards an office right in the middle of that floor, which was completely closed from the outside by a considerably thick wall of branches. Nanami quickly opened their passage way, striking a hit with his blunt blade, and both sorcerers darted inside the room before the vines closed off once again.

Now inside, they could see right in the middle of the office a towering silhouette from where all the vines were probably stemming from. 

Right after they entered, some vines lifted from the ground, and began whipping in their direction.

Nanami fended off most of the blows that came at him with his blunt sword, meanwhile Higuruma did the same with his gavel, now turned into a blade to sever the ends of the tendrils as he did so. Both sorcerers were back to back with each other, and made their way slowly towards the curse's core.

Unexpectedly, one vine wrapped around Nanami's foot, knocking him down on the ground. Higuruma was quick to notice, and swiftly cut the tendril, freeing his colleague. Upon reaching his arm to help Nanami up, a new vine darted towards the ratio sorcerer as he rose, being instantly cut by Higuruma's free hand before it could ever reach the other sorcerer. 

"Are you okay?" The former lawyer asked, resuming their back to back stance. 

"Yes. Thank you" Nanami answered. He was fairly impressed as to how Higuruma was carrying himself in the field, being attentive to his partner in battle, and reaching out when needed. "Did you train fighting alongside other sorcerers recently?" 

"No, I danced!" Higuruma answered, smiling, as he saw an opening dashed towards the core.

What? Nanami didn't understand what Higuruma was referencing, and followed him to finish exorcizing this curse. 

Both sorcerers hit the core at the same time, destroying most of it.

The remainder of the core, as well as the vines, began dissipating slowly, and after a short while, there was no trace of the cursed left spirit behind. 

Upon checking his watch, right after getting into the car with Higuruma, Nanami saw that there were 5 minutes left to 6 PM, and felt incredibly pleased.

"So, no overtime?" Higuruma asked, half jest, as he smiled.

"No overtime" Nanami answered, smiling discreetly.

"So, where are you two headed now?"

"I think I could use something to eat. Not dinner, but maybe a snack" Higuruma answered, absentmindedly. He then asked Ijichi to drop him off at an address that Nanami found to be familiar.

"There's a bakery there" he noted, looking at Higuruma.

Higuruma nodded, "yes. I really like their coffee, but the best thing they sell is the ciabatta with pesto and cured ham."

"I know that bakery. That really is their best sandwich. It's the perfect fit for salty and bitter when eaten with coffee" Nanami stated. 

"I know, right? It's my usual when I go there."

Nanami seemed to ponder for a moment.

"I believe I might join you before heading home" the ratio sorcerer said, looking at his watch. "After all, it's still early, thankfully."

Higuruma's phone vibrated, and he picked it up.

There was a message from you, asking how was your mission? Did you make new friends?

"Is it her?" Nanami inquired.

"Yes. She asked me if I made new friends" he retorted, amused. "So, did I?" Higuruma then questioned, looking at Nanami.

Nanami looked back at him for a moment, before answering, "a colleague".

"Fine, then" the former lawyer concluded, before putting his phone back in his pocket, and extending his hand to Nanami. "Colleagues in arms?"

Nanami looked at him for a second, before acquiescing to the handshake. "Colleagues in arms."

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #nanami kento #jjk fanfic #jjk nanami #jujutsu nanami #higuruma hiromi #jjk higuruma #jjk imagines #kento nanami

[fionajames]

wait for it

A/N: Hey guys!!! I watched Hamilton again (for like the millionth time) and this idea wormed its way into my brain. Lyrics are from Wait For It by Leslie Odom Jr. from Hamilton. Send requests please!!!!! Enjoy!!!

Hamilton doesn’t hesitate

Anakin cracked his knuckles and stretched his limbs out, fiddling with the hilt in his hands. He gripped his lightsaber like it was a lifeline, pushing down on the button and leaping out into the fight. Shots flew at him but he didn’t care, deflecting as many as he could and more away from him and his troops. He could feel his friends and family around him, and he continued to push forward. 

He exhibits no restraint

Determination was thick in the air around him, it was part of him. Anakin Skywalker wasn’t just impulsive and reckless, he was determined. The fight was part of him, it felt natural. Perhaps it was part of his distant primal ways, or perhaps it was the raw Force within him. He would do anything to win the fight, and he usually did.

He takes and he takes and he takes

Anakin continued forward, with more skill and grace than a jaguar, or swan, or any creature. He was a force of determination and fight, and he kept going. He took control of the battlefield, he lost men. He grieved and mourned for their losses, and still he fought. 

And he keeps winning anyway

Even when his men died, Anakin was powerful. He didn’t break, he strided forwards. He was striving for something, what, no one was really sure. Perhaps it was peace? Maybe victory? Or perhaps he fought for the adrenaline in his body, for the rush it gave him. He fought and he won, even with the losses.

He changes the game

Anakin was smart and tactical on a different level to otherwise. There was passion in his strategies, no matter how it was shown. He wasn’t afraid to lose men, but he wasn’t going to let it happen. He strayed from typical tactics and into his own. He made his own.

He plays and he raises the stakes

He played his own game, he fought against the enemy his own way. The longer the fight continued, the higher the stakes. Around him, men were dropping, and yet he pushed on. He would only stop if he went too far, not before that. He was used to watching their deaths, but that didn’t mean it bothered him any less.

And if there’s a reason

Anakin jumped in front of a trooper - one he didn’t know - and deflected the oncoming fire, protecting the man with his life. He checked the pulse of another trooper, their deaths weighing over him like a storm cloud. He mourned them as he continued on, he pushed forwards to the thing that had killed him. The event they’d died for.

He seems to thrive when so few survive, then Goddamnit

The brunette leaped into enemy lines, slicing effortlessly through the droids, knocking them down. Around him, the dying screams of the battle continued. Anakin felt his friends and family behind him, knowing they were safe he continued to push. He pushed for the goal, effortlessly making it up a non-existent uphill climb

I’m willing to wait for it

Behind him, Ahsoka pushed forward. She cut down droid after droid. She was filled with the same burning passion that filled her brother, but she wasn’t nearly as forceful as he was. She made her own way, without the same power he naturally held. The fight was in her blood, just like the predator was, and yet, she displayed more patience than her brother ever would.

I’m willing to wait for it

Ahsoka pushed for the same goal, she dropped to mourn just like he did. And yet, Ahsoka held the things that weakened Anakin. She was patient, she was thoughtful on a deeper level. She was everything he was and better, and it was only because he held more natural power than her that no one knew. But they would, one day. One day.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed, send requests please!!!!!!!!!!

#clone troopers #tcw #clones #anakin skywalker #the clone wars #captain rex #ahsoka #clone wars #star wars #501st legion #ahsoka tano #ka’ra writes ❤️

[aliensupersyn]

Shibuya to Shinjuku: Gege's Use of Disparity

My analysis will be centered around Gege's use of disparity between his characters to drive a high-stakes narrative.

TLDR: Both Shibuya and Shinjuku involve hopeless battles that the cast majorly struggle through. Victory will only come after an uphill battle that favors the remaining villain. I implore you to read the first section, as that's the heft of the comparisons between the Shibuya Incident and Shinjuku Showdown. The other sections offer context for the "Sukuna Cycle" and the despair it causes for both the heroes and the readers.

In Shibuya, characters were heavily underpowered and majorly unable to fight the disaster curses. Stakes were at an all time high, especially after Gojo's imprisonment, and still, the heroes mostly failed to defeat their respective enemies. Mei Mei failed to defeat Kenjaku off screen; Nobara struggled against Haruta; Yuji lost to Choso; and Dagon bodied Maki, Nanami, and Naobito.

For the most part, the jjh forces lost the majority of their match ups. Yuji's final showdown alongside Todo was an uphill battle that mostly favored Mahito. Similarly, Sukuna has dominated in Shinjuku and has gotten more advantages than the cast. As put by Technical_Oil_8868:

Mahito hit a black flash, pulled a 0.2 domain expansion and a transformation while Yuji got nothing and moreover I think the black flash on maki is more or useless because Gojo needed 4 bfs to gain RCT output to recover his arm

Sukuna received Mahoraga and Agito via Ten Shadows; he transformed into a body that gives him inherent advantages via an extra mouth and limbs; Sukuna developed a new overpowered cursed technique that's defeated three cast members; Uraume returned one of his ancient cursed objects; he survived Yuta's maximum output Jacob's Latter; and Sukuna hit a black flash. Sukuna Kaisen has set a disparity that resembles Mahito's seemingly endless power as he continued evolving until his final moments.

Before the last enemy's defeat in Shibuya, multiple casualties occurred: Naobito whooped Dagon before the disaster curse evolved, then Maki nearly died, and Mahito later finished Nanami; Nobara gained an advantage against Mahito, then died immediately after; Todo came to help Yuji, and then lost boogie woogie.

Gege has made overt parallels to Shibuya already. It began with Gojo's defeat after an isolated battle against multiple opponents, then characters began to fall one by one. Higuruma's death was a direct reference to Nanami's.

When all hope was lost, Gege brought back two of the verse's heaviest hitters to save the cast. The strongest without cursed energy, and the strongest sorcerer (did this suddenly become a Gojo return post? Place your bets I guess?)

Toji saving Maki's group has parallels to Shinjuku already:

I've spoken extensively about my theory that Maki will return to face Sukuna yet again. She's the last of the heavy hitters and suffered the least damage between her and Yuta. She obviously parallels Toji within the story, and this link between them further supports my connection between Shibuya and Shinjuku.

When Gege needed a character to take out Jogo, who would have surely swept the cast at the time, Sukuna was brought back.

Yuji foils Sukuna the most within the story. In essence, they're twin spirits, having lived in the same body and sharing an appearance; Sukuna's Heian era form still has Yuji's pink hair for example. Sukuna himself admits that Yuji's the only person who he knows can match his own unbreakable will. Their parallels support my argument that Yuji satisfies Sukuna's role within Shibuya; he will act as the second force that saves the remaining cast from the enemy who can and will kill everyone left.

I argue that Maki and Yuji will return to face Sukuna in the end, just as all hope seems to be lost. Kusakabe and Miguel will likely act as plot devices to buy time for Maki and Yuji to make a grand entrance of sorts. Likely, the soul striking duo will struggle through the battle, as they'll no doubt face Sukuna's full cursed technique, and it will be an extremely stressful fight for them and the readers.

The Chips in Sukuna's Armor

Although he still has yet to use his full CT, Sukuna has taken serious damage that has left him with an obvious weak spot now. He may have played around with Kusakabe and allowed himself to get hit for fun, but stopped Kusakabe immediately once his heart was targeted. Now, even Sukuna has limits to how much damage he can suffer.

Sukuna suddenly stopped healing against Maki, and notice how his major wounds remain despite the black flash boosting his output.

Yuta took out his arm, extra mouth, and left a scar along his face that can be seen in the panels above. Maki's attack still has not healed, and will likely stay for the remainder of the battle due to how long soul wounds take to heal; this wound also slows down Sukuna's ability to heal his brain, which inhibits his domain expansion as well.

Sukuna still has a missing arm and has a weak heart. He played with Kusakabe, but as soon as he aimed for his heart, he stopped him. All variations of cleave and dismantle have been overcome twice now. Sukuna's armor is chipping and Gege's introducing characters who can force Sukuna into straining situations by avoiding his usual CT via Maki, Kusakabe, and now Miguel (check notes). I have already argued how Sukuna uses cleave and dismantle to test his opponents' strength. He did the same to Kusakabe in 254 by saving World Dismantle as the overwhelming ace (just as he did with Higuruma who neutralized cleave and dismantle as well). Sukuna's black flash kept him from having to revert to fuga since slash attacks were not working. Maki and Kusakabe both exposed Sukuna's current weaknesses.

Same as the readers', Sukuna's patience is wearing thin. He allowed Ui Ui to save the cast for a while, but suddenly set a trap for him by leaving Kusakabe out in the open while he hid. The conflict's stakes continue to rise, slowly but surely. As Sukuna defeats more of the main cast, the less combative forces become more endangered of being wiped out. Even Sukuna's tired of this same song and dance.

Kusakabe has exposed the fact that Maki's attack created an incredibly vulnerable wound that can be exploited. I argue that Maki and Yuji will use this gathered information in their final battle. Maki can dodge all forms of cleave and dismantle, which will force Sukuna to use his full cursed technique.

The Kind One

Here, I will focus mainly on Kusakabe's role within the narrative, and how he satisfies a similar role as Gojo and Nanami in Shibuya.

Kusakabe and Nanami came to similar conclusions in their final moments. They both share narrative similarities in reference to their power, and Nanami even appeared in 254. Kusakabe can't do a whole lot, but he's willing to stop running and put his life on the line like the younger generation has.

Thematically, Kusakabe specifically represents the meeting point between the young and older generation. The flashbacks reflect how he's been the main one coaching the kids through the fight until now, cause his superiors are dead (or just chilling in Mei's Mei's case). Kusakabe has been left in charge of everyone else's students, and he's taken that role especially seriously in his last moments. His monologue suggests he felt guilty for failing to save not only his friends, but their students as well. Therefore, he's deemed the Kind One. In his last moments, he's not thinking of himself, but everyone he's lost or possibly let down.

Similar to how Nanami thought of Haibara in his final moments, Kusakabe refused to let down Yaga. Both thought about what Haibara and Yaga would think of them, and this informed Nanami and Kusakabe's motivations as they died.

Kusakabe's fate also resembles Yuji after he switched with Sukuna in Shibuya, but he's not giving up like Yuji did. Kusakabe instead gives himself the Todo speech. He already knows that as the seemingly remaining fighter, he must put everything on the line. He didn't need a Todo to come and tell him, because he himself has been the coach.

The motif that Nanami, Gojo, Higuruma, and Kusakabe occupy exists in other shonen titles as well. In Naruto, the five Kage and Might Guy had a similar motivation for putting their lives on the line against Madara; the youth are the first in line on the battlefield, and as adults, they must step up and protect them if they can.

The Shibuya Incident featured largely disproportionate power gaps between the heroes and the villains, similar to Shinjuku Showdown. Gege prefers a narrative where the heroes face a seemingly endless uphill battle against opponents who gain more powerups than them. Sukuna's advantages will ramp while Maki and Yuji face him in the final showdown. Yet, in the end, their teamwork will prevail, just as Yuji and Todo's did against Mahito.

Notes:

Both Toji and Sukuna were returned more or less after being absent. Maki and Yuji will also return after a more brief absence.

I acknowledge that Sukuna didn't mean to "save" the rest of the cast, except Megumi, but in the end, that's what happened.

The last two pages of 254 suggest that Miguel's faster than a point blank cleave/dismantle, which is wild. The scars on the ground suggest that Sukuna definitely cast his attack, but Miguel avoided it without a scratch.

I absolutely love when the older generation in shonen titles admit that the youth are often unfairly sacrificed in war. It never fails to move me when the adults say it's time to put their lives on the line for the youth in an effort to finally give back. Ohnoki's speech and Guy's final words before the eight gates activation have to be two of my favorite moments in Naruto. It's a great motif.

#jjk #jjk manga #jjk theory #jjk 254 #naruto #tsunade senju #might guy #maki zenin #yuji itadori #ryomen sukuna #madara uchiha #jjk kusakabe #mei mei #ui ui #jjk miguel #toji fushiguro

[taizi]

Feel free to ignore this ask if it's overstepping, but whenever I have to do something stressful involving my mental health I channel/process those feelings by writing fanfic of my blorbos doing the same thing. So, any thoughts about rise Leo going to his first therapy session post-movie in the Hidden City? Could even take place in the City Lights verse.

x

Mikey is kicking the heel of his foot against the waiting room chair over and over, full of a restless sort of worry. 

It was an uphill battle getting Leo to agree to this in the first place. God, Mikey would almost rather fight the Shredder again then relive that first conversation about it. Being stubborn is a Hamato trait but Leo takes it to a whole new level. 

Thankfully, he is and always has been a daddy’s boy. 

“I have not always been a good father to you,” Splinter finally says, interrupting the beginning stages of Donatello Losing His Absolute Shit Out Of Love. He pats Leo’s cheek gently. “But I am putting my foot down this time, Blue.”

“You’re the medic,” Raph points out. “You wouldn’t let one of us walk around with a broken bone, would you?”

For all that he’s spent the last two years in a state of constant anxiety and frustration, he never lost that softness that makes him their Raph. He still carries it around with him, and hands it out freely where it’s needed, and right now he’s wrapping it around Leo as deftly as a blanket. 

And for all that Leo has this stupid idea lately that he’s supposed to be perfect and self-reliant and never burden his family with anything he could handle on his own, he’s still their Leo. He buckles under genuine affection like a house of cards. 

He puts up one last token protest. “That’s not the same thing.”

“It’s exactly the same thing,” Donnie says, just barely not a snap. “You have literally bullied me into telehealth sessions before.”

He’s not angry, not really. He just cares so much and he can’t get the words to come out right and he wants Leo to do what is best for Leo without arguing about it, even though they all know that’s just flat-out impossible. 

“It’s different,” Leo stresses, well and truly at his emotional threshold. “You deserve—”

He cuts himself off but the damage is done. Everyone knows what he was going to say, what he meant. The tension in the room ratchets up to a solid fifteen on a max ten scale. Donnie starts flapping his hands. Casey looks pale and haunted. Mikey bites down on the wounded sound he wants to make, but Raph’s arms tighten around him like he heard it anyway.

“Yeah,” April says in a tone that lets all of her little brothers know not to mess around, “you’re going to therapy, Leon.” 

Splinter grips Leo’s chin before he can sink into his shell. There’s an ocean of grief in the rat’s eyes that Mikey is worried he might drown in. But there’s love, too. Mountains of it, rising out of turbulent water, steady and immovable and forever.

“Don’t hide yourself away,” Splinter says. Maybe it’s something he would have liked someone to say to him, once upon a time. “We love who you are, even if who you are is someone who is struggling right now. Lean on us, Leonardo. You are not alone.”

So here they are. The latest in a string of failures. Mikey keeps bumping his foot into the chair leg, trying not to stare at the clock. 

This is the longest an intake session has lasted. The first one was about ten minutes, but none of them expected the first one to go well. Leo joked about the whole thing and wouldn’t answer anyone’s questions directly. But he went straight to his room afterwards and didn’t come out until he was extracted for dinner, which said plenty. 

The session after that went on for half an hour, but Splinter—and Draxum, who had come along that time and sat in with Leo’s permission—agreed it wasn’t the right fit. The session after that was another no-go, and then the disastrous fourth session almost shut the whole operation down entirely. It lasted all of twenty minutes and ended in property damage. Whatever was said in that office caused Splinter to go full Lou Jitsu and break the desk, a chair, and the door on their way out. Leo was glassy-eyed and unresponsive in a way that caused actual murder to flash through Donnie’s eyes. 

Leo crawled directly into Raph’s open arms and stayed there, cheek pressed to plastron, to better hear the comforting rumble that started up in his brother’s chest. When Mikey crawled in next to him, his hands opened so Mikey could hold them, but otherwise he just blinked slowly and didn’t speak and it was the worst thing ever and Mikey very heroically managed not to burst into tears but it was close. 

They were kind of expecting him to cite The Fourth Session as a reason why they should pack this whole idea up and mail it far away from them to the next bunch of jokers but he didn’t. He just heaved himself off the sofa without a whine or a joke or anything and shuffled after Splinter out the door. 

It made Mikey feel like a bully. It was for Leo’s own good, but it was clearly taking a toll. Opening himself up again and again for a complete stranger, only to have that trust totally unrewarded and sometimes even thrown back in his face. For someone like Leo, whose guard is constant and unwavering even when the only people he has to guard against are his own family, it must be grueling. It must be awful. 

But if they could just find the right fit, Mikey thinks desperately. If they could just find the right person…

“Hey,” Raph says, nudging Mikey’s arm, jolting him out of his thoughts. “He’ll be okay. Pops isn’t gonna let it get as far as it did the last time. He promised.”

“At worst, we’ll be accessories to murder,” Donnie says without looking up from his phone. He sounds like the idea doesn’t bother him at all, and also like it’s much preferable to anyone making his twin even the smallest bit upset for any reason. “In which case I suggest swinging back around to Session Four’s office and tying up loose ends.”

Raph closes his eyes briefly, looking as though he’s actively making plans to wrestle Donnie into therapy next, and then continues as if the softshell hadn’t spoken at all. “Leo’s perfectly safe.”

“No I know,” Mikey says quickly. In part because he knows Raph is trying to make him feel better, also in part because it sounds like maybe Raph is trying to make himself feel better, too. “I just—we’re running out of names in the Hidden City white pages, you know?”

“I can’t believe they still use the white pages here,” Donnie mutters. 

“There’s still a lot of options left for us to try,” Raph says patiently. “And when we run out of options, we’ll come up with another plan. Don’t borrow trouble just yet, okay?” 

Mikey leans on him, trying to absorb some of that steadfastness for himself, and Raph puts an arm around him, drawing him and his whole chair closer with a short shriek of plastic on linoleum. 

A sudden high-pitched, frantic beeping fills the lobby. A few heads in the waiting room turn, but the yokai behind the desk don’t even blink. 

“Is that the fire alarm?” Raph asks in a polite, I’m-not-freaking-out-but-I’m-about-to tone. 

“Oh, honey, it’s okay,” one of the receptionists reassures him at once. She’s been nice to them since they got here and her teal face is lined from a long life of smiling. “This happens all the time. We have wards to prevent fire, but they don’t stop smoke.”

“Um, okay,” Mikey says. “But why is there smoke? In a clinic?” 

The door leading to the offices opens and Leo steps out looking slightly scorched and a little bemused. Splinter is nudging him along, looking like he’s aged ten years in the last sixty minutes, and a beetle yokai shuffles after them sheepishly. 

It’s the beetle yokai who introduced himself as Cricket, the clinical psychologist with licenses from both yokai and human institutions who passed Donatello’s extremely invasive vetting process, and the first doctor to somehow last the full hour with Mikey’s most stubborn brother. He’s five foot nothing and his exoskeleton is a pretty coral color.

“What did you set on fire this time?” one of the employees says in a long-suffering tone. 

“You don’t know for certain that it was me,” Cricket replies with a nervous little yank at his wrinkled button-down shirt. 

“Like the entire lounge,” Leo answers immediately after. “It’s amazing, I’ve never seen anyone fail at cookies that hard before in my life, and I live with Donatello.”

“Offended scoff,” Donnie says loudly. 

“It’s a nice gesture!” Cricket says. “I was making a nice gesture!” 

“Whoever left their lunch on the counter in there, I have bad news,” Leo goes on. One of the yokai tapping away at a computer stops, puts her head in her hand, and sighs. Splinter draws Leo down far enough to pat him on the cheek and then heads toward the reception area to do paperwork things. Leo and Cricket bicker their way across the waiting room.

Mikey feels something buoyant and bubbly happening in his chest, like someone shook a can of soda up in there. This is the most Leo-like Leo has been after a session, in all his playful, sarcastic glory. He glances up and sees the way Mikey is vibrating in his chair and laughs. 

“Jeez, Michael, if you needed to go outside and run around the block I would have understood.”

“I’m saving all my energy for giving you the biggest, proudest, love-you-est hug of my entire career,” Mikey says very seriously. 

Leo’s golden eyes get very bright, which is how Mikey can tell that his heart is smiling even if his face folds into something theatrical and performative. “Am I gonna need to clear my calendar?” 

“The WHOLE day, baby!” 

Cricket is smiling at the picture the four of them make, mandibles clicking idly. Splinter is watching too, his eyes impossibly soft and full of the same pride Mikey’s feeling in spades. 

“What do you say, Leo?” Cricket says. “Same time next week?”

Leo tugs at the sleeve of the purple hoodie he borrowed from Donnie that morning. He glances sidelong at Splinter, who gazes back fondly but doesn’t answer for him. Mikey’s on pins and needles, waiting to hear what he’ll say with his heart in his throat. He thinks he can feel Raph holding his breath. 

“Yeah, I guess,” Leo says after a moment. “Maybe we can burn your office down next time.”

Cricket lets out an affronted little clicking noise but he clearly doesn’t mean it, because he sends the clan off with warm goodbyes. The second they’re out the door, Mikey flings himself at Leo bodily, barely remembering at the last second to be gentle. Donnie has his arm linked through Leo’s good one, and Splinter is hanging back to make a quiet, exhaustively relieved phone call to April and Casey, and Mikey keeps saying how proud he is. He can’t stop. Leo’s the bravest person he knows, the best person, and he has to keep saying it or he’s going to explode. 

“Alright, alright,” Raph says, gently disentangling Leo from the bramble of clingy brothers and lifting him up onto his shoulders instead. “Take us home, Fearless.” 

There’s a smile on Leo’s face that’s almost familiar. It’s not the one Mikey knows, but it’s one he’s getting to know. The fact that his brother is here to smile at all is more of a miracle than most people get in a whole lifetime.

Even if Leo never makes it all the way back to that shining boy he used to be, Mikey can think of at least a billion things to love about the person he is right now.

#rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #hamato michelangelo #hamato leonardo #portal duo #my writing #tmnt fic #prompt #anonymous #these bright blue city lights #i have had cricket for exactly 1 hour and i would die for him in a heartbeat

[lilpunkrock]

where you go (i will go) — part xv

Summary: Adrift in a world without Dream, you seek a path forward to protect what you love most. 

Pairing: Dream of the Endless x f!Reader

AN: Oof, this was a heavy one. With only two parts and an epilogue left to go, how will it all end? Would love to hear your theories. Enjoy!

. . . 

“Does it ever go away? Will I always feel this way?

Feels like I’m cursed by this burn,

And it all adds up to hurt.”

Hurt (stripped), Wage War

. . . 

part xv

In your time walking amongst mortals, you’ve often heard the sentiment, “You don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone.” There was a time when the nights you slipped into your resting hours felt unbearably long, steeped in painful memories that you dreaded reliving. Little did you know back then that you’d miss them now. 

A weary sigh escapes you as you roll from your back to your side, burying your cheek into your pillow. The darkness that cloaks your room is thick and suffocating, the sheets covering your skin cold and stiff. There is a bone-deep exhaustion that comes from days and weeks without rest, of constant time spent in a conscious mind. Though your eyes may close, there is always the tapping of a finger, the twitching of a toe. Anything to remain alert, to avoid rest. To avoid drifting into that place of unconsciousness you once shared with him, when you know he will no longer be there.

The nights pass agonizingly slow this way. Time blurs together in this new way of life, hours bleeding into days and weeks like watercolors. But these midnight hours, empty as they are, do give you time to think. 

Your plan was half-baked at best, and you knew it. Ever since the day you’d learned of Desire’s intentions for you, and the day that had come after in which you’d done the unspeakable, you’d been scouring your mind for ways to resolve the calamity your life had become. As Agape, Goddess of Love, you knew that your first loyalty was to your people, regardless of your personal interests. You had to find a way to overpower Desire’s interference with your attachments. Until you did, the mortals would be vulnerable, and you would be trapped sorely under Desire’s malicious thumb. 

Now that you could no longer plant premonitions of philia and eros encounters in dreams, you had to find another way to combat the Endless. You could increase the number of attachments you fostered daily by multiples. You had nowhere else to go, now, and nothing else to live for–why not spend each waking hour doing so? Even still, mortals would remain vulnerable to Desire’s influence. Any attachment you fostered had the chance of being overpowered by one of Desire’s own. 

You had to find a way to intervene, to rid mortals of Desire’s attachments permanently. That was a work in progress. 

It would be an uphill battle. And in the end, it was only half a solution. While increasing your workload would help mortals, it would do nothing to fight the war your heart truly wanted to wage. It would do nothing to protect him. 

Dream. 

You curl into yourself tightly, burrowing deep into the covers, shrinking away from the cold, lonely absence of touch against your skin. 

So unbearably lonely. 

When your eyes next open, a thin stream of sunlight has slipped through the crack between your closed curtains. You draw in a deep breath, longing for the feeling of lungs filled with fresh air rather than mud. Time to start the day. 

This new way of life is a strange one. You never realized how weightless you felt before until rising from your bed each morning became such a chore. Each movement is draining, as if you’ve been weighed down with sandbags. You dress with little consideration for the day’s events, nor the weather. Splashing water over your face does nothing to shake the persistent fog that muddles your thoughts. When you raise your head to look in the mirror, patting your face dry with a hand towel, the person staring back at you is unrecognizable. You didn’t know this woman, what with her dull gaze and hollow eyes, her skin devoid of warmth and vigor. Who was she? How did she get here? How did you get here? 

Would he even recognize me? you wonder as you bring a washcloth to your red-rimmed eyes. The cool water is a small comfort to the tender skin there. Has he seen me like this, and I just don’t know? 

You pray that he hasn’t.

You shrug on a coat as you walk through the living room, passing the cup of earl grey tea sitting on the counter, the chaotic mess of pillows, books, papers, and decorations strewn about the floor. In the days immediately after your falling out with Dream, you’d considered straightening up. You’d even grabbed a dustpan to gather bits of shattered ceramic from a mug that once sat on the coffee table. And yet, once you’d started, something had seemed wrong about righting the ruin around you. It was an extension of yourself, a manifestation of the turmoil within. Only within this cluttered, catastrophic space did you feel a little less alone. 

A rush of cold air greets you as you step outside. A dense blanket of gray clouds sags overhead, foretelling snow. Fishing your keys out of your pocket, you move to lock the door behind you. The sound of a door unlocking beside you makes you pause.

At first, you try not to look. As much as you used to adore checking in on Matt and Ava, you’re finding it harder and harder to do so these days. When you see someone step onto the neighboring doorstep, however, you can’t help but glance out of the corner of your eye. Bundled up tightly in a wool coat and scarf, Ava stands on the doorstep, searching through her purse for her car keys. Her coat is taught over her full, rounded belly. 

She’s due this month, you remember suddenly, ashamed that you hadn’t realized sooner. 

Ava’s breath clouds the air as she procures her keys from her purse, huffing in satisfaction. You duck your head to avoid her gaze, directing your attention toward locking the door. 

Out of your periphery, you catch a flash of color as Matt sticks his head through their doorway. “I love you, hun. I’ll see you tonight.” 

“I love you, too,” you hear Ava reply. There is a rustling of fabric as he gives her a hug, as she kisses him goodbye. Your fingers grip your house key tighter. 

It’s only when Matt closes the door and Ava heads toward her car on the curb that you’re finally able to breathe. There is an ugly, nauseating feeling swimming in your chest, a rot akin to spoiling from the inside out. Jealousy. 

You close your eyes with a sigh as you pull the key from the lock. You truly were unrecognizable now.

It wasn’t as if you wanted to feel this way. Far from it. You would give anything to escape this hollow shell that you had become, to feel some semblance of normal, to return to the way things were before. You would do anything to regain the life you’d once lived, the life you’d dreamed of living. A life with him. 

Stop groveling in the past. The only path now is forward, a voice hisses from the depths of your mind. A voice that you’re becoming more and more accustomed to hearing, steeped in an emotion you’re becoming more accustomed to feeling. Another piece of yourself you don’t recognize. Anger. 

You take off walking down the sidewalk with purpose. Your new routine awaits you. 

. . . 

There’s something simultaneously freeing and frightening about having nothing to lose. 

It’s freeing in the sense that you are not bound by the constraints of loss and failure. Wallowing at the bottom of the pit, there is no low you have not reached. There is no treasure or muse you have not been stripped of. As lonely as it is, this freedom allows you to pursue with abandon, to act without fear of what may be robbed from you. To embrace new parts of yourself that were once unknown to you, to unlock your full potential.

It’s frightening in the sense that these parts of you that were once hidden might hold secrets you’re afraid to see. 

As a fresh crack of pain whips through you, you grip Desire’s thread tighter. Bend, your voice hisses within your own mind. Bend to me. 

The black attachment pulses and ripples in retaliation, roaring back against the thrum of power beneath your skin. The young woman that the bond stems from is none the wiser to the battle being waged right beside her. She continues to swipe through matches on her phone’s dating app, all while the white philia attachment emerging from her chest calls her out of this coffee shop, beckoning her toward a soulmate far from this place. 

The dark bond in your palm ignites against your skin like a brand. You grunt, bracing yourself against the pain. “You have no idea how lucky you are,” you bite through gritted teeth. “You have a soulmate out there. I’ve established the path, fostered the attachment. And you’re just giving in to Desire?” 

The woman, of course, says nothing. 

As the vibration beneath your skin begins to shake your very bones, you force deep inhales and slow exhales, striving for control. Where your mind once struggled to wrangle the electricity crackling through your veins, you’re now able to harness this power more easily, to even direct it. You had experimented with breaking Desire’s bonds before everything fell apart, but now, it was a regular part of your routine. These mini battles oftentimes consumed more of your day than fostering actual attachments did. 

Do it, you command, pressing a new surge of influence into the thread within your grasp. Bend to me. 

At your word, the thread in your hand flickers and sparks. It’s the first time you’ve ever garnered such a reaction. Hope and surprise cleave your heart in two, bright and painful. 

It’s a break in your focus that the attachment takes advantage of. Pain reverberates through your body like a thunderclap, knocking the breath from your lungs. Your knees pound against the floor as you crumple into yourself, retreating from the pain on instinct. 

Above you, the young woman laughs to herself as she swipes open a new conversation.

The coffee shop’s laminate floor is cool against your forehead as a moan slips from your throat. Damn it. 

Several minutes pass before you find the strength to peel yourself from the floor. When you do, Desire’s black attachment continues to burn brightly alongside the philia attachment you’ve been fostering. A reminder of how trapped you are, of your place square under Desire’s thumb. 

But not forever, you think as you knead the palm of your sore hand. Though success in breaking one of Desire’s threads still eluded you, progress did not. With each thread you warred against, you felt yourself growing stronger, holding on for longer. Where once a battle like this might have required a couple hours-worth of rest, you were now able to rise after minutes. You couldn’t even be resentful toward the pain it inflicted. The pain was part of the plan, after all.

In your earlier years, the Fates had called you to the side of Mithridates VI, King of Pontus. His rule over northern Anatolia included many wives and heirs, which required many storge attachments and blessings of weddings on your part. News of his father’s assassination via poison at a banquet had swept the peninsula swiftly. Whispers of Mithridates VI’s preoccupation with self-poisoning during his years spent in the wilderness were more subtle. During your visits to foster his family’s attachments, you personally witnessed him ingest arsenic and other toxins multiple times, documenting their effects, formulating antidotes. 

At the time, it had astonished you how one could willingly subject themselves to such pain, how one could willingly commit an action that could result in their own death. Now, you understood. With each poison he ingested, Mithridates VI became stronger. You were doing the same. One day, the pain would come to fruition. 

The King of Pontus had taught you that fear was a powerful motivator. You were learning that revenge was, as well. 

. . . 

The night you spot him is still and cold. It had been a particularly grueling day of experimenting with Desire’s attachments. Your palms burn with invisible lacerations, your head pounds with exhaustion, and your stomach is tied in intricate knots. A walk in the cool night air was often a soothing balm for your aching soul. Even though it reminded you of Dream, spending time beneath a star-flecked sky still instilled a semblance of peace within your tired, frenzied mind. Even after everything that had happened. 

You hear him before you see him–a soft rustle of feathers above. How long had it been since you’d last been to the Dreaming? Since you’d last seen your dear friend? You honestly weren’t sure how much time had passed–time seemed to be blurring together as of late. 

“Hello, Matthew.” 

There is the quiet whisper of diverted wind, followed by the familiar pressure of talons gripping your shoulder. In spite of its familiarity, the sensation takes you aback. It suddenly occurs to you that this is the first physical contact you’ve had with another being since the day you parted with Dream. Your heart aches at the memory of his soft touch on your elbow, the wet sheen of his eyes as he’d looked at you, imploring.

‘Is that truly what you want?’ 

“Hey, Love.” Matthew’s voice pulls you out of the past, grounding you in the present. His voice is quiet, tentative–completely unlike the brash Matthew you know and love. 

Your eyes sweep the street around you intently. At this late hour, passerby are few and far between. Only the occasional car putters by on the street. While the sidewalk itself is lit by golden lamplight, the alleys and green spaces between clusters of buildings are cloaked in shadow. Your mind is pulled to the memory of Dream gifting you his pouch of sand outside The New Inn, of Desire emerging from the shadows only minutes later. Being watched was a constant threat–not to you, but to those around you, those you sought to protect. All the more reason to be alone. 

“You shouldn’t be here, Matthew.” 

Matthew ruffles his feathers in displeasure, causing them to brush your cheek. “You’re hard to find, Love. I’ve been trying to catch you for weeks. Like hell I’m leaving now.” 

So it had been weeks, then. You glance at the raven in your periphery. His eyes gleam like black pearls under the moonlight, trained on you intently. There’s a tension in his small, feathered body, a desire to ask questions. You beat him to it. “Did he send you?” you ask reluctantly, unsure of whether you really want to know. 

Matthew blinks owlishly at you. You wonder what he knows, how much he knows. What Dream might have told him. “At first? Yeah, he did. But like I said, you’ve been hard to keep track of. Tonight, I’m here of my own choosing.” 

Tightness entangles itself in your chest, an intricate knot that makes it difficult to breathe. You exhale slowly, trying to make room for it. You had wondered if Dream would find some way to keep watch on you. His heart was kind, and he wasn’t dissuaded easily. It would be like him to create the appearance of respecting your wishes, while secretly watching from afar. It was the primary reason you spent the majority of your time in the Realm of Attachment these days. It was the only place he couldn’t see you. 

You didn’t want him to see you. Didn’t want him to see this hollow shell that you were becoming, so different from the you he’d cared for. 

Matthew cocks his head into your range of vision. His presence calls forth a mixture of joy and sorrow in your chest, and he seems to sense it. Perhaps he thinks he can persuade you in this vulnerable state, because he leans in closer, voice earnest as he insists, “You’ve got to come back to the Dreaming, Love. Things aren’t the same without you. The boss–he’s…different. Lucienne misses you. I miss you, too.”  

It feels good to be in his presence. Too good. You swallow past the lump in your throat. You have to get away from here. To protect him, and to hold on to your resolve. “I miss you, too. But what I told Dream stands for all of you. You’ve got to stay away. I mean it.” 

The sound of approaching voices captures your attention. Matthew shifts his beak into your face, trying to hold your focus. “I’m not going to do that, Love. Dream’s my boss, and my friend. If he wants me to make sure you’re safe, then that’s exactly what I’m going to do.” He pauses, choosing his next words carefully. “But it’s more than that. You’re my friend, too. I care about you. I’m not going to stop until you come back.”

There’s a group of young men walking ahead of you, stumbling and laughing after a night at the bars. You quicken your pace, identifying your escape route. “You’ve been a good friend to me, Matthew. And I love you for that.” 

With careful fingers, you pry his talons from your shoulder, releasing him into the air. The group is just ahead of you now, their backs narrowly within reach. Matthew seems to notice this at the last second, opening his beak in protest, but he’s too late. “Now, let me be a good friend to you. Stay away.” 

And with that, you brush your hand against one of the young men’s shoulders, disappearing from the night. 

. . . 

Far from the Waking World, Dream of the Endless stands on the beach alone. Overhead, Dream Country’s sky is obscured by a layer of muted gray clouds. The sea he overlooks, once teeming with life, is flat as polished glass. Re-worked dreams and half-made nightmares are scattered around him. Their features are distorted, their bodies frozen in varying degrees of completeness, like deconstructed children’s toys. Their bizarre state gives them the appearance of having been forgotten, imaginary friends left only partially realized in the wake of a distraction. 

In reality, none of them are forgotten. In spite of the events that had transpired over the past several weeks, the Dream Lord’s productivity had not slowed. His function was his purpose, and he intended to fulfill it. This new reality often gave him pause, however. A wayward thought, a fond memory of a comment or quip, a feature on a dream that began to look a little too familiar. They all warranted a break, like the one he was taking now. 

It was strange, really. He had spent millenia on this beach, had crafted dreams and nightmares day after day in solitude. And yet, the process was different now. There were no words of input, no curious questions, no grins of approval. Without them, it felt…incomplete. 

He hadn’t realized just how accustomed he’d grown to you until you were gone. It startled him just how much your presence had snuck up on him. How desperately he missed it now. 

There is the soft sound of shuffling sand behind him, alerting him of someone’s approach. When the gentle feminine voice reaches his ears, it is familiar, comforting. “Where have you been?” 

Dream of the Endless holds his gaze on the sea. He hadn’t felt a breeze dance off the waters in weeks. If you were here, would you trace patterns across the water’s flat surface? Scatter ripples that brought the waves back to his sea? He could still remember how the salt-seasoned air had tasted between your lips when you’d kissed. 

“Here,” he replies simply. 

Death’s voice is soft, surprisingly patient. “Where is Love?” she asks. 

A swallow. A pressing down of the swell in his chest at your name. A carrying on. “She left.”

He can hear the disbelief in his sister’s tone, can picture the furrowing of her dark brow in his mind when she speaks. “That doesn’t sound like her.” 

Indeed. 

There is movement in the Dream Lord’s periphery as Death of the Endless steps forward. She places her hands on her hips, affixing him with an inquisitive look. “Well? Why aren’t you going after her?” 

Why wasn’t he, when every microscopic fiber of his being compelled him to do so? Why wasn’t he, when the idea of doing so dominated his every thought? He turns to his sister slowly, his expression as still as the sea before him. “I was once told that, if you care for something, sometimes the best thing you can do is let it go.” 

A range of emotions plays over his sister’s face in rapid succession–astonishment, confusion, exasperation, awe. She shakes her head once, her eyes wide. “That’s a sweet sentiment and all, Dream, but that does not apply here.”

A hard swallow works down the column of the Dream Lord’s throat. Oh, how he wished it didn’t. The memory of the expression you’d worn when he’d revealed the record of your mortal dreams weeks ago still haunts him. The shock, the disbelief, the wariness. He had overstepped then, and it had hurt you. The memory of that harm was one of the only things barring him from taking action again now.

He says nothing. 

Death waves her hands in confusion, searching for the right words. Her dark eyes are wide and imploring. “What you told me the night I gave you her name...I’ve never seen anything like that, Dream. Not from you.” She pauses, dark lips tight with emotion as she prepares to speak her truth. “You love her.” 

There is a brief moment when the weight in his chest lessens, when he is able to take a deeper breath than before. “Love seems a feeble word to describe this,” he rasps, his voice soft and pained. 

Death’s lips lift ever so slightly into a smirk. “I think she might take offense to that.” 

Oh, no. He can picture exactly how you’d react–the spark that would alight in your eye, the tiny crinkle that would divot your gentle brow, the way your lovely features would pinch as you feigned annoyance. From the moment he’d met you, you’d been challenging him. You thrived in a challenge. 

“She would find it amusing,” the Dream Lord murmurs, tucking his chin as if to hold the thought closer to his heart. 

Death smiles fully now, shaking her head incredulously. “Well, I’ve known her longer, but I suppose you probably know her better than me now.” She places a hand on his shoulder, her grip a little tighter than one might have expected. Beseeching. “Just think about it, yeah? Chivalry is a surprisingly good look on you, little brother, but perhaps it’s not the answer here. There has to be an answer.” 

Indeed, an answer must exist, though it’s somewhere beyond his reach. In the past, he would have ravaged every realm for it, would have set ablaze anything that stood in his way. He had contemplated it many times over the past several weeks. And yet, any time he prepared to enter the Dreaming’s sea, or call upon a sibling in his gallery, or traverse another realm, one memory made him pause. 

‘You have to let me go. Please,’ you’d said. Earnesty and agony had warred in your eyes in equal measure. The raw force of it had cut him to the bone, compounding his own anguish in on itself over and over again. In spite of your own, you’d persisted. 

There had to be a reason. One you obviously believed in. 

In his lengthy existence, he had experienced many heartbreaks, many betrayals, many dissolutions of trust. Time and time again, the universe seemed to indicate that he should conceal himself, isolate himself, guard himself. And yet, what he felt from you was different. There was something invisible, something intangible, something indescribable between you that compelled him to do the opposite of anything he’d ever known. 

He wanted to believe what you believed. You made him want to trust. 

He had made a vow to you on that beach in your unconscious mind. He had vowed to go where you went, to stay where you stayed. Though that vow conflicted with your wishes now, his loyalty still urged him to fulfill it. 

Perhaps there was a way to accomplish all of it–to watch over you, and to respect your wishes–all at once. He just had to find it.

. . . 

When you finally destroy one of Desire’s threads, you almost wish you hadn’t. 

It had taken you off-guard, really. Countless attempts to break a black attachment without success had nearly convinced you that such a feat was impossible. That, perhaps, all of your work was for nothing. 

Your eyes had closed as you gripped the thread between the man and woman at the bar tightly. In spite of your best efforts, the black attachment between them remained, thoughts of their spouses far from their minds. 

I’m sorry, Dream, you’d thought in anguish as tears prickled at your eyes. I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know how to fix any of this. I’m so sorry. 

And, in an instant, the thread between your fingers had cleaved in two. 

It was like dying all over again. 

The lash of pain cracks through you like lightning as you crumple to the floor. The pain is everywhere, coming at you from all angles–blinding, all-consuming, overwhelming. Your heart hammers in your ears as you pat your hands about blindly, seeking to gain your bearings, your vision obscured by darkness. When you cry out, there is a bright burst of pain that makes you cough. Something wet sprays your lips. 

You press your fingers to your mouth. Blinking peels the darkness away strip by strip to reveal flecks of red. 

Blood. 

Fire rages in your lungs as you hurriedly stumble through a young woman on the dance floor and out of the Realm of Attachment. The transition turns the previously rainbow-lit bar dark and shadowed. The crowd presses against you, each bump and press and touch as painful as a strike against your skin. 

Out, you think as you press through the throng, searching wildly for the exit. I’ve got to get out. 

When you stumble out of the bar and into the night, a group of patrons milling about the front door chuckle at you, assuming you’re drunk. You expect the winter air to soothe your lungs, but its bitterness only makes the throbbing in your chest more potent. Leaning against the brick building of the bar, you heave in gulps of it regardless, trying to unscramble your thoughts as the pain crashes through you again. 

What the hell just happened? 

In all your attempts to break Desire’s attachments, none of them had ever felt like this. Sure, the process was painful, but this…this was on a different level. This was like having your lungs drowned in flames. This was like having a wild beast claw its way out of you from within. This was excruciating. 

A prickling at the base of your throat sends a new collection of coughs stuttering forth from you. A familiar warmth drips over your bottom lip. In a daze, you wipe at it with your coat sleeve, staining the fabric crimson. 

Something was wrong. You needed to get out of here. You needed to get somewhere safe. 

The streets of London are dark and cold as your feet begin carrying you in a familiar direction. You haven’t seen your dear friend in weeks, not since the night you admitted to him that you were in love. You’d been avoiding him intentionally, just like everyone else. Attachments to you were something Desire could wield against you, something they could use to harm those you loved. You hesitate to take the risk, even now, when you don’t see the malicious Endless around. As a new bout of coughs rack your chest, sending a deep-seeded throbbing through your bones, you realize you don’t really have a choice. 

Time and space blur as you stumble through the streets in a daze. When you blink, you find the familiar door of The New Inn mere inches away from your face. You’re not sure what miracle brought you here in such a disoriented state, but you don’t intend to let it go to waste. A sharp pain jolts down your arm as you pound against the door, and you groan. 

The seconds pass slowly as you wait for Hob to come to the door. Exhaustion settles in your bones like an anchor, weighing you down. You consider lying on the doorstep to rest. 

Just as you’re about to succumb to the temptation, the door swings open to reveal Hob Gadling’s face. His cheeks are rosy from the warmth of the inn, and a small smile is on his lips. You wonder if he expected you to be his midnight guest. When he notices your disheveled state, the smile drops from his face instantly. “Fucking hell. What happened to you?”

You force a small, feeble grin. It feels strange. You can’t remember the last time you smiled. “Hi, Hob.”

As you move to step through the doorway, a sharp pain cuts through your abdomen, robbing you of your footing. Hob’s arm is there as you stumble, catching you. The pitch forward rips a ragged cough from your throat. When blood speckles The New Inn’s wooden floors, the color drains from Hob’s face. 

“Sorry,” you rasp weakly. 

Hob’s eyes turn from the blood, to you, back to the blood. “Come on,” he says, looping one of your arms over his shoulders for support. “You’re not dying on my doorstep. Think you can make it upstairs to one of the rooms?”

The thought of a soft mattress makes you want to cry tears of joy. When the pain persists with each step, however, you shake your head. “No. A table will do.”

Hob guides you across the room, easing you into one of the booth-style chairs that line the far wall. As luxurious as a bed sounds in this moment, even the comfort of sitting on a cushion sounds almost too good to be true. A groan of relief slips from you as you settle into the seat. 

Hob looks reluctant as he pulls your arm from his shoulder. He slips around the corner of the bar with haste, procuring a decanter of whiskey from the shelf and water from the fridge. “Where the hell have you been? I haven’t seen you in weeks.”

You close your eyes, leaning your head against the vintage wallpaper. The sound of clinking glasses rings in your ears. “Oh, you know. Working.”

“Liar. You look bloody terrible.”

“Thanks.” There are two soft thuds against the tabletop as Hob returns with a glass of water and a glass of whiskey. You open your eyes, watching as he eases into the seat across from you. “I’m not lying, though. My job just looks a little…different than it used to.” 

“Ah,” Hob drones, his tone thick with suspicion. Just as he starts to push the glass of water toward you, you reach forward, grabbing the glass of whiskey. The astonishment on his face as you down its contents one gulp is comical. It’s certainly not a smooth spirit, and the burn stings, but the pain in your throat is a welcome distraction from the pain everywhere else. 

“Do I need to take you to a hospital?” he asks, his face pinched with concern. 

You shake your head, placing the glass back on the table with a thud. “No, I’ll be alright. I’m sorry, I wouldn’t have even come by, but I didn’t think I could make it home.” 

Hob grabs the glass of water between you with careful fingers. His eyes don’t stray from yours as he takes a long drink. They burn with questions. “What is going on here, Love? I haven’t seen or heard from you in weeks.” He pauses, jaw working as he considers his next words. “What ever happened with our mutual friend?”

A bittersweet pang pierces your chest at the mention of Dream. It’s a lovely kind of pain, so much more devastating than the physical pain that ravages you now. “That. Well, that…fell through,” you say, your voice tight with emotion. 

Hob’s eyebrows furrow. He sits the glass of water down on the table with an air of incredulity. “He didn’t love you back?” 

You close your eyes, bracing yourself against his words. There is a soul-deep ache in the back of your mind, an exhaustion that’s been brewing for weeks and weeks. In your weakened state, it creeps toward the surface. Tired. So damn tired. “Uh, no, actually. I think…I think he did.” You pause, pressing your palms against your eyelids to stifle the prickling there. “But other factors got in the way. I was putting him in danger. So, I left. I’m trying to fix things.” 

Hob is silent for several long moments. You can practically hear the gears turning as he processes this information. His concern is palpable.  “And is this–” you can picture him gesturing, waving a hand at your disheveled state, your blood-stained coat sleeve, “–fixing things?” 

“It’s a temporary solution. I’m working on a long-term one.” 

“It doesn’t look like a solution to me. And whatever it is, it’s definitely not fucking healthy.”

Hob’s voice sounds softer now, distant. In its place, the voice in your head grows louder, the one that’s been demanding rest for weeks now, the one you’ve been ignoring. It seems to be spurred on by the pain that radiates through you, growing more insistent. You press the heels of your palms into your skin harder, trying to hold it off. “I can’t see a way out, Hob. I’ve been trying to find one for weeks. This…this is something I can do. Something that makes me feel like I’m not just sitting on my ass. Like I’m not completely helpless.” Your voice breaks at the admission. You swallow. “You wouldn’t understand.” 

“I want to understand.” Hob’s hands rest on your forearms with a touch that is warm, but firm. Slowly, he guides your hands away from your face. Black puddles at the edges of your vision like blots of ink, creeping inward, eager to swallow you whole. It seems your body is done waiting for you to willingly give the rest it requires. Now, it intends to take it. 

“I want to help you. But I don’t know how.” Hob’s dark brows are furrowed with concern, his tone gentle and earnest. His voice is warped, like you’re conversing through a wall of water. The room around you is mostly obscured from view; the darkness grazes his cheeks now. “You don’t have to do this alone, Love.” 

You manage a small, bittersweet smile as the darkness swallows him whole. “I wish that were true.” 

And with that, your mind tugs you away, dragging you into the unconsciousness that you once adored.

. . . 

Scritch scritch. 

At the familiar sound of claws against glass, your gaze darts up from the list of daily assignments in your hand. A pair of pale yellow eyes meets yours through the kitchen window, peering out from a familiar furry face.

Your list of assignments is instantly forgotten. “Hello, friend,” you say as you cross the kitchen. Unlatching the window with eager fingers, you lift the glass from the frame, allowing the feline to peer into your townhome unencumbered. A soft purr rumbles in its throat as your fingers graze the space between its tall black ears. “Have you come for your morning pets?” 

The cat’s quiet ‘meow’ of approval makes you smile in spite of yourself, an action you’re unaccustomed to performing these days. “Well, allow me,” you concede as you reach your other hand over the windowsill to rub behind its ears. 

Your feline friend had been an unexpected addition to your routine over the past week. Each morning, it came to your kitchen window, scratching quietly against the glass. It had never entered your home, though you’d offered, and didn’t seem to want food or drink from you. It merely stopped by for a few morning pets, and then would be on its way. You weren’t sure what type of cat it was, or if this was normal behavior–you’d always been more of a dog person yourself–but you weren’t complaining. The company was nice, brief as it was. Surely Desire couldn’t find a way to use a stray cat against you. 

The feline’s soft yellow eyes follow you as you withdraw one hand from behind its ears. “Let’s check the workload for the day, shall we?” you say as you reach for your list of assignments with one hand, continuing to scratch with the other. 

As you stretch toward the list of assignments on the opposite end of the counter, a sharp pain pierces your abdomen. Though it doesn’t take you by surprise, the pain does elicit a quiet gasp from you. Pangs like this had persisted ever since you’d broken your first attachment of Desire’s last week. Though the coughing and the blood had ceased after you’d left Hob’s that night, your lungs still ached when you breathed in the winter air. 

You weren’t bouncing back from this one like the others. It startled you enough to warrant a pause from your attempts to break any more attachments. Given that your symptoms were still present after several days, however, you suspected you’d have to begin again without fully recovering. 

Assignments in hand, you lean against the kitchen counter, threading your fingers down the back of the black cat with one hand, thumbing through pages with the other. “Let’s see what’s in store for today. Lots of pragma today–that’ll be nice. I’m not feeling up to flirty philautia. Some eros, some philia…”

As your eyes trail down the pages, one group of names captures your attention instantaneously. Glowing brightly and linked with a thread of emerald green, the line reads:

Matt Kemper ────── Ava Kemper ────── Seline Kemper

Your heart leaps into your throat, catapulting off a burst of adrenaline. “Oh, Maker. Oh, wow,” you gasp aloud. You read the words, again and again. With each time, something warm and bright swells within your chest a little more, growing stronger. Something you hardly recognize at first. Excitement. 

Your head snaps to your feline companion, who watches you with wide, curious eyes. “Sorry, friend, but I’ve got to go. Work calls.” 

With a soft ‘meow,’ your friend steps backward, leaping off the edge of the windowsill. You make quick work of shutting and relocking the window, grabbing your coat, and slipping out the door. Outside, you spot a mail carrier depositing mail along your block. Even as one hand brushes against the back of his shirt, your touch feather-light and unnoticeable, you’re already running your fingers over those familiar names on the list of assignments. 

Bring me to them. 

When you open your eyes, you find yourself standing in a hospital room. Clusters of balloons are scattered about in an assortment of shapes and colors. Several stuffed animals line the window on the opposite side of the room. All is quiet save for the soft beep of the machine monitoring Ava’s vitals. 

Directly in front of you, Ava lies in a hospital bed. Her blonde hair is gathered away from her sleeping face into a high bun. Despite the faint shadows under her eyes, her skin glows from within. You can’t imagine how exhausted she must be. 

Turning to your right, you find Matt sitting on the room’s sofa, cradling tiny Seline in his arms. The shock of platinum blonde hair atop her head is something she clearly inherited from Ava, the complete opposite of Matt’s dark locks. She’s as fast asleep as her mother is, nestled lovingly into her father’s rocking arms. 

A smile lifts your lips as you move toward them, eager to foster the green storge that links Seline, Matt, and Ava’s hearts together. 

And then you spot the black thread between her and her father.

In an instant, everything halts. 

No. 

Without a thought, you’re moving. Your hand reaches out on pure instinct, blood boiling with an entirely different kind of adrenaline than what spiked through you when you learned of Seline’s birth. Your fingers stretch toward the thread, prepared to grab it, to destroy the threat, no matter the cost. 

Matt’s kind face smiles. “I love you, Seline,” he murmurs softly. 

The black attachment between them hums and ripples. You freeze. 

There’s an expression on Matt’s face that speaks to you, that turns your heart warm and soft. A glow that conveys awe, a tenderness that conveys peace. His eyes twinkle with joy as he smooths down Seline’s shock of blonde hair, a small smile playing on his lips. 

You remember what it was like to feel that way once, on the honey-gold beach in Dream’s arms. That divine mixture of awe, joy, and peace. A completeness like you’d never known before. A completeness you’d do anything for, give anything for. 

“You’re the greatest thing I’ve ever done,” Matt whispers to his sleeping daughter. “I promise to give you my everything, for as long as I live. I’ll do everything in my power to protect you and make you happy.” He smiles, cradling her closer to his chest. “I love you more than you will ever know.” 

A gasp escapes you as the black thread between them sings. And, in that moment, everything becomes clear. 

In the beginning, you’d feared Desire. They had made your demise their mission from your first divine breath, pursuing you relentlessly. In response, you’d fled. Every black attachment you’d encountered had been a source of terror and panic for you. 

Now, the roles were reversed. Ever since you’d been forced to leave Dream in order to protect him, Desire’s demise had become your mission. Every black attachment you’d encountered incited rage and frustration. 

It had always seemed black and white. Desire, or love. Only one could prevail. 

But now, watching Matt with his daughter, witnessing his desire to protect her, to give her the world, born from the depth of his love, you see a different way. 

Suddenly, all at once, you know the path forward. 

You drop to the floor, flattening your hands against the tile. Your eyes fall closed in concentration. “Kindly Ones…The Three-Who-Are-One, The One-Who-Is-Three…hear my prayer. It is your ward, Agape, that humbly calls you to her side. I beg of you, hearken to me.” 

There are several long moments of still silence. And then, the whisper of wind. 

The Maiden speaks first, her voice bright with pleasant intrigue. “Oh, lovely place this is. Look at that rainbow sky outside. Quite extraordinary.” 

Slowly, you rise from the floor, bones aching with each movement. The Mother turns to you, taking notice of your discomfort. Her gaze lingers on your weary brow, the dark shadows underlining your eyes. “Love, darling, it is good to see you. I must say, you look terribly unwell.” 

A cynical huff escapes you, a bitter mockery of laughter. You’ve been unwell for weeks. You doubt that this is the first they’ve known of it. “I need your help,” you say, voice firm with conviction. 

The Crone’s brows raise, riddling her forehead with new wrinkles. “Cutting right to the chase, aren’t you, ward? You would do well to show some respect. Remember your place in all of this.”

A bright burst of irritation sparks in your chest at her tone, but you hold your tongue. She’s right, after all. You are not their superior, nor their equal. If your plan is to work, you’ll need their help. “I am sorry, Kindly Ones. Please forgive me. I am humbly requesting your help. I hope to put an end to all of this turmoil.” 

The Maiden’s lovely face pinches with confusion. “End what, exactly, darling?” 

“This war between Desire and I. The balancing of scales. I need to resolve it, once and for all.”

The Mother’s eyebrows draw together, her face soft with pity. She folds her hands in front of her, as if preparing to deliver news she knows you won’t want to hear. “That’s impossible, darling. A goddess cannot overpower an Endless. The power imbalance is too great. Surely you know this.” 

You swallow thickly, pressing down the seed of doubt that her words sow in your heart. No, there’s no room for that. Keep going. “Just because no deity has done it before, doesn’t mean it’s impossible. I have a plan.” Your eyes linger on their own, taking note of the reservation in their gazes. Your hands clench at your sides, nails pressing desperately into your palms. “I have someone I need to protect. People I need to protect. I’ll do anything I need to do to see that through.” 

The Crone quirks a single gray eyebrow at you. “Morpheus?” she rasps, her expression expectant. 

Your lips part ever so slightly in surprise. But then again, you suppose you shouldn’t be. They are the Fates, after all. 

“Yes,” you say, your voice tight, but assured.

For several long moments, all three of the Fates are still. Lifting your chin with conviction, you stand your ground, trying desperately to ignore the nervous flutter of your heartbeat in your chest. 

Just when you’re convinced they’ll deny you, the Crone smiles. The gesture takes you aback. You’re certain you’ve never witnessed such a display from her. “I must admit, it is unexpected to see the Endless gain a champion. You wish to defy the old laws for his protection? So be it.” She lifts her hands toward you, eyes alight with intrigue. “What is it that you require, ward?” 

For the first time in weeks, there is an easing of the unbearable weight that has been crushing your chest from within. A relief so precious that it almost brings tears to your eyes. Hope. 

“I need you to get me to Destiny.”

#dream of the endless #the sandman #morpheus #dream #dream x reader #morpheus x reader #the sandman netflix #dream of the endless x reader #dream x fem! reader #morpheus fanfiction #lord morpheus #the sandman x reader #the sandman imagine #the sandman x you #morpheus x you #dream x you #dream of the endless x you #dream of the endless imagine #morpheus imagine

[bronx-bomber87]

No better way to end a Friday than with a review. We are in the home stretch of s1 still crazy to me. Excited each time get to write up my reviews. So thank you all for your interest and support as always. Lets dive in to the third to last ep shall we?

1x18

Homefront.

After having a non Chenford ep always happy to have them back together. Loved dissecting Lucy and having insight into her family life but I missed them. They don't have a ton of content in this one. Pretty Talia driven one but what they do have is really good. Underrated moments in this ep for them IMO.

Our first shot of our fav duo is at the hospital. They’re visiting a released convict they were assigned to check up on. Tim makes a comment about filling his hours when not studying. To him it makes the most sense to fill his dead time with work. Lucy is immediately all over that comment. Because Lucy don't play around at all when it comes to Tim. She knows that isn't healthy for him. She starts probing as to why he doesn't have a hobby. She's genuinely surprised he doesn't have a way to decompress/recharge.

His first answer cracks me up it’s so Tim. Also how he adds in for her not to give him shit cause it has 'work' in the title LOL He knows her so well. He tries to combat her answer before she even says it. Lucy doesn’t deny she thinks that anyway. Goes on to say he needs something for himself. A way to decompress. Maybe even have a little fun. Gotta love her for trying to get him out of his comfort zone. He’s a creature of habit and doesn’t like that to be upended. Lucy is very aware of this and can't help herself but to challenge him on it.

The eye roll she gives him is primo. She knows this is going to be an uphill battle per usual. Tim fights her on it because its his natural first instinct. He always fights her on it and she always ends up seeping in. Jolting his system and POV on things. I do love him opening and holding the door for her. Ever the gentleman even when they’re arguing hehe

This shot is just because they're so pretty just standing together haha. That's it really. I mean look at them. Their Tall/Small thing never ceases to make me happy. Also Tim's stance pretty damn appealing tbh. I mean look at dem biceps. It's a wonder Lucy gets any work done haha

They respond to a call at a paintball place. A guy named Jimmy has lost it and impaled another player with a piece of wood over the game. Go on to tell them he plays there every day. He'll be hard to find. They head off to find Jimmy. Lucy does not waste a second before she is giving him more crap. So damn sassy with him. Using this guy's obsession to prove her point about why its bad to be focusing on one thing too much. They were married long before they ever dated people haha Lucy is so smug in this moment. Makes me happy haha

Tim defaults to what he usually does when’s she got him dead to rights. Clams up. Tells her to shut it cause that’s the best come back he has at the moment. LOL The smile on her face when she says ‘Yes sir’ Lucy knows that ‘shut it’ is just him annoyed he has no witty comeback. Lucy is reveling in the fact he can’t fight her on this one. No leg to stand on and he knows it.

They start searching the paintball area for their suspect. Lucy makes a comment about it would be easier if everyone wasn’t wearing camo. Tim gives her his company line about this job isn’t meant to be easy. She instantly disregards it and asks him if he’s ever played paintball? Trying to peak his interest. His reply cracks me up. Not a doubt in his mind he would crush these people at this. Her face is what kills me the most. That’s the wifey face. Placating him like ok babe....

I also love her blowing past his TO line earlier haha Very early on Lucy would’ve said yes sir or nodded. We’re long past those days even in s1. Especially at this point in time. That rapport and comfortability has come to stay. She’s on a mission to find him a hobby to help him relax. Bypasses Teacher Tim without blinking.

Tim starts to explain why he would straight destroy these people at paintball. Using one of the players as an example. Also Timothy there is no need to lean so close when explaining strategy to her sir heh But he does it anyway and she’s grinning like a fool. I’ve always loved the magnetic pull these two have between them. Whether they’re aware of it or not. Personal space is word not found in their vocabulary. Clearly passionate about what he's telling her so he gets closer. I love it.

Look at the way she is looking at him. Goodness girl you are working. That look on her face. You know she’s indulging him right now. Letting him ramble about how everyone is amateurs. How he would go about it. Tim has no idea he’s giving her fuel to get him to play. Always looking out for him even when he doesn’t have a damn clue she is. Taking care of him and putting his needs first. I can not with them. I love it so much.

They end up going to higher ground where Jimmy would be. They find him and Tim is sexy af stopping his escape. Grabs a players gun and easily decimates him with paint. Don’t tell me she wasn’t the slightest bit impressed with him nailing that guy with the paint gun. But it’s also reinforcing her idea about paintball for him.

That little smirk of hers before she hooks Jimmy up. Just like in 1x15 Lucy is all smiles and heart eyes for him in this ep. She is also a little bit wifey like in her reactions. Like yeah he’s an idiot but he’s my idiot. That second gif above says it all for that for that.

Ahhh the hanging out, outside work begins ❤️ Look at her dragging him outside his comfort zone like only she can. I bet you she pitched it one last time to Tim as a hobby. Something he could do to destress/relax. That it would be fun. He probably didn’t have to twist her arm too much to join him. That he would only do it if she came with. I could see Tim doing this so he could show and or prove to Lucy he could smoke everyone at this like he said. A little flex on his part. Coming in armed with a plan ready to execute it with her.

He looks so happy. She did that. It's written all over Lucy's face how happy she is that he's enjoying himself. That little smile on his face as they’re gearing up to go in. My heart. He’s so excited to do this. It’s why Lucy is beaming. She got Tim outside his routine and into something she knew he would love. He’s smiling and ready to have some fun. Not that he will say as such but everything in his body language does. Once again that beautiful silent communication of theirs is a sight to see.

His half hearted 'No' has Lucy smiling and laughing. She is beyond pleased with herself for this. Anyone looking at them without context would be able to see how she feels about him. I saw this great post by relentlessescapsim had a collection of Lucy unabashedly looking at Tim. Being as transparent as she could be. It said ‘She’s a ten but she’s terrible at hiding her feelings. ‘ I died laughing cause it so friggin true. You just watch her entire body language around Tim and you know. You just know he’s far more than her T.O. to her. I mean its clearly her day day off and Lucy is spending it with him. She's doing his new 'hobby' with him. I love it sfm.

Lucy challenges and pushes Tim same way he does for her. Been saying this all season his growth is incredible. Look at this puppy of a man playing paintball with her. Once again doing something he wouldn’t have for any other rookie. Incredible. He's continually allowing her to influence him which is huge in itself. Its constantly seen through out the entire season. This was her challenging that bubble of his that rigid routine. Lucy pushed because in the end she knew he would benefit from it. What good it would do him. She was right.

Tim says 'No' when really he's so glad she got him to do this. He can't say it just yet but his actions scream it. They balance one another out so well I could not adore their dynamic more. Damn I just love them so much haha. How good they are for each other. The fact that it dates back to s1 for multiple reasons is amazing.

It's why they’re so good in s5 once they get together. That beautiful base is already there and solid as hell. I love the idea of them playing paintball and having fun. Its lovely to see such beautiful depth and development for them. Such a good episode for them top to bottom. *chef kiss*

~~~~

Side Notes Non Chenford

Cute Wes/Angela stuff I always enjoy them so much.

Stuff with Jackson's dad was also very good. Watching him stand up to his dad was awesome.

Percy asking why Grey didn't stick Jackson with Tim. My god that boy wouldn't have made it without Angela. He has no idea. Tim would've washed his ass out so quickly. Hell Tim might not even be around cause of his bullet issues in the beginning. So very good he was not. Everything happens for a reason and all that.

Thank you all again for you likes/comments/reblogs. Every time I get a notification for them makes my heart smile for real. See you all in 1x19 :)

#Caitlin rewatches The Rookie #chenford #chenford hiatus #waiting on s6 #summer rewatch #s1 #1x18 Homefront #the rookie #tim x lucy #tim bradford #lucy chen #lucy x tim #eric winter #melissa o'neil #otp: doing my job #tim bradford x lucy chen

[macravishedbymactavish]

Riptide (TF141 x M!Reader)

TW: Angst, terrified thoughts about the future following traumatic events

| Blog HQ | Riptide Series Masterlist | Previous Chapter |

Chapter 05

You were pacing back and forth in the hallway; everything from the waist down becoming numb from sitting on the floor for so long.

"You're going to need a new pair of shoes right soon if you keep that up" Price commented, leaning against the wall. True to his word, he stayed with you this entire time. Not leaving to use the washroom, to eat, or even have a smoke.

I'm not going anywhere until I know our boy is okay.

"It's been hours without anything. Can you blame me?" You sighed, walking to stand directly beside him. Mind racing with all sorts of worst case scenarios. Readying yourself for bad news.

"Perfection takes time, he deserves no less" you nodded, fighting the urge to spiral deeper into your head. Knowing you needed to be as strong as you could for your son. Repairing the physical damage was the easy part, mending the mental and emotional wounds would be an uphill battle for you both.

You heard your name get called, eyes shooting up to the surgeon walking out toward you.

"Normally we meet families in the waiting room" she smiled warmly, before explaining that everything went off without a hitch and what to expect during his recovery.

He'd be admitted for a few nights for observation with a splint. They'll swap this out for a cast before he gets discharged, once some of the swelling from the operation comes down. Then some information about follow up after that you didn't catch. Hell, you didn't catch much more after she told you he was okay.

"If you'd like to see him, we can bring you in" you eagerly nodded, fighting back tears. "Would you want to come too?" She asked, gesturing to where Price stood beside you.

Would he want me there? Do you want me there? His gaze implied.

"Come on Gramps. Let's go see our boy" you chuckled softly, waving him to follow along. Feeling yourself start to shake the closer you got to the room.

"Here he is, you did amazing buddy" the surgeon greeted your son, who gave her a sleepy smile in return. "He'll likely be drowsy well into the night, but should be back to his normal self tomorrow"

You were at his side in a minute, stroking some hair out of his face as you felt tears fall. I haven't cried this much since the day you were born.

"Hi daddy. Hi gundpa" he mumbled sleepily, gazing up at you happily, before reaching his arm out in Price's direction. Who slowly walked over from his spot at the wall.

"Hi Bug" you whispered, pressing a kiss to his hair before wiping tears out of your eyes. "How you feeling?"

"Tired" he rubbed at his face, grimacing when the splint rubbed his cheek the wrong way. "Don't like it"

"It's only until your arm heals up, mate" Price commented in a soft voice, clearly shocked and honored that your son was automatically trusting of him. Something neither of you expected. "It'll be off before you know it"

"Hope so" the boy whispered, blinking hard as he fought to stay awake. "When can we go home?"

"In a few days. They want to make sure you're all better, and put a cast on your arm before we go" You explained, watching his nose scrunch up in confusion. "It's like what you have now, but harder and makes sure the bone heals straight" you clarified.

"Do they make them look cool?" Your son mumbled, slowly drifting into sleep.

"No, not really. But we can make it look really cool with markers and stuff" you smiled, watching as sleep finally overtook your son. Pressing another loving kiss to his hair, you whispered how you loved him and would be here when he woke up. While Price opted for a soft squeeze of his shoulder.

"Go home, grab some things and have a shower while he sleeps" you froze, everything inside of you arguing that you would not be leaving him alone ever again.

"You'll be gone an hour at most. I'll be here, Kate is on her way. He won't be alone" The tone left no room for ifs, ands or buts. You were going to have a shower and collect some things. "Get one of the guys to drive you, then they'll know where to go so we can watch your house"

Nodding slowly, you glanced down at your sleeping son's figure one more time. Heart aching at the thought of leaving him, despite knowing he was in hands you trusted with your own life.

"He's back now, you can breathe again" You nodded, feeling a soft shove as Price urged you out of the room.

--

As much as you hated to admit it, the feeling of the shower was almost intoxicating. The warm water beating down, working to relax the once stiff muscles. Wash the dirt, sorrow and grime off.

Hands pressed against the tile in front of you, you let your head hang forward as the water came down. Letting every emotion go, feeling your fingers curl into fists against the cool tile. You mourned the loss of his innocence. Damned every higher power and fate for letting something so horrendous happen to such a kind little boy; but thanked them for bringing him home safe in the same breath.

You began thinking of the future, the hospital would surely connect him with a therapist. Someone to help him work through the scars you wouldn't be able to see.

How long until he would feel comfortable going to the shops with you again?

When would he be comfortable with visitors in the house? Not that this particularly mattered. You would wait forever if that's what he needed.

Would he be able to attend a normal school one day?

What would you do for childcare.....would you stay in the force after this? After what happened when you weren't around to protect him?

The sound of the bathroom door closing caused you to shoot up out of the water. Now on high alert. Peeking out past the shower curtain you noticed a towel and a change of clothes (sweatpants and a plain tshirt) on the counter. Necessities you forgot to bring in with you.

Shutting the water off, you began to dry yourself. Smiling at the added warmth of the towel, wondering if they threw this in the dryer before giving it to you.

First time in my house and they all made themselves very at home. You laughed softly to yourself.

--

"Do the stars even glow anymore?" Johnny wondered out loud, leaning against the doorway to your sons room. Staring up at the stick on stars across his ceiling; making a point not to pass the threshold.

"I don't think so. Proves me right for buying the cheap ones" you laughed, explaining how from infancy your son seemed to sleep better under a sky of stars. Especially loving the nights when you sat out on the deck, him curled into your chest at night. Listening to you promise every star in the sky if that's what he wanted.

"Need to invest in more then" Kyle chuckled, walking up behind you. "So what do we need to check on while you and mini you are at the hospital?" You quickly ran through the basics of your home, before packing 2 bags. One for yourself, and the other for your son.

While you were busy packing, you missed the look your two teammates shared with smiles on their faces.

Taglist: @bloodonmyhands-1221 @v1naco @bowtruckleninja @thatonesimpyknow @reiya-djarin

#call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod mw2 #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #kate laswell #riptide fic #john soap mctavish x reader #captain john price x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader

[starplusfourletters]

(way too many) thoughts on the ahsoka show

It was fine? I was really afraid there would be something I hated. And there was nothing I hated. Sad but true that that’s the bar for new SW material atm.

I really liked ep5; ep5 will probably get a rewatch. I liked the casting. The visuals were pretty cool. Huyang was a treasure.

So we’re really going with “the Force is in everyone so everyone can use the Force if you just try hard enough”? I… kind of hate that. That somehow feels ableist of me to say. But this is a heckin fantasy universe I feel like some people Really Are That Special, y’know?

Exception that proves the rule: A Force-less Sabine is still VERY SPECIAL. In Rebels, she can hold her own in a fight just as much as Kanan or Ezra. She’s extremely competent without the Force. She’s somehow less competent in this show

She really is just the worst here in ways that I do not remember her being in Rebels. I guess arguably Ezra was the one with Terminal Protagonist Syndrome in that show? And she caught it from him before he left?

I feel like what this season WANTED to be about – and honestly it’s the lowest hanging fruit possible for a show titled “Ahsoka” – is the tension between Ahsoka’s past / her relationship with her master and her future / her relationship with her apprentice. But I don’t think they actually hit a balance there, because they just did not make her relationship with her apprentice very compelling. Three reasons for this:

1. My bias. There are very few things that start with “Ahsoka &” that would get my attention more than “Ahsoka & Anakin.” Feel like I’m not alone on that one tho

2. Established canon. It’s already an uphill battle because Ahsoka and Sabine don’t have much of a relationship in Rebels. I’m honestly not sure they ever have a conversation. I remember Sabine being like “wow she’s cool much cooler than my idiot adopted brother”, and maybe that would be a place for a mentor figure relationship to start, if Sabine weren’t already DROWNING in mentor figures. It’s not that they have nothing in common, they are just straight up not a focal point of Rebels S2.

Hey you know who canonically has latent Force abilities? And maybe needs some training? And whom Ahsoka would have a Complicated feeling about without even needing a prior established relationship? Someone with mutually incompatible daddy issues? Someone deep enough in the cultural zeitgeist she literally would need no introduction?

Yes I KNOW it’s never gonna be canon and I should just go back to AO3 but it’s RIGHT THERE HRRRRRGGGGHHHHH

3. But a lot of the issues with Ahsoka & Sabine as a focal point are of the showmakers’ own creation. You’re telling me they have a relationship now? Fine, CONVINCE me of that:

First they shoot themselves in the foot by not giving us any information about how Sabine became Ahsoka’s apprentice originally. Why did Sabine want to become a Jedi when she didn’t want that in Rebels? DID she want to become a Jedi? What did she want to learn from Ahsoka? Why did Ahsoka decide to take an apprentice at that time and not any time before or after? How did she feel about it? And why pick Sabine, who is, and this is true, Not Very Good at the Force? Who approached whom, or did they run into each other accidentally? I suppose answering some of these questions might require answering “where was Ahsoka between 3 BBY and 4 ABY?” and they aren’t ready to do that yet, but guys. GUYS. If you’re trying to tell me how Ahsoka and Sabine fix their relationship, you gotta tell me why I care first.

I know I'm harping but I really cannot emphasize enough that "fuck it I'm gonna go round two on Found Family" is an arc-defining character beat for both Ahsoka AND Sabine and the fact that the audience doesn't get to see it really makes me question whether the powers that be themselves know what it looks like

Then we get vanishingly little information about why they broke up, and all of it is provided by Huyang. And what I’m picking up from what we have is “Sabine got too Revenge Quest-y, and Ahsoka got nervous.” I don’t even know where to begin here – maybe with the fact that if Sabine decided to go on a murder rampage, she wouldn’t need the Force, lol. We know Sabine’s family died, she wanted to go to Mandalore, and Ahsoka didn’t want her to. So… did Sabine go? How did she end up back on Lothal? Who left who? Was Ahsoka worried for Sabine’s safety, or that she was getting too Dark Side-y, or both? What juicy terrible intergenerational-trauma-driven things did they say to each other when they broke up? I want to compare and contrast this with Ahsoka leaving Anakin, but I do not have the information to do so because there are zero details and the info we DO have is from ANOTHER CHARACTER. Again, if this season is about this relationship, TELL ME WHY I CARE.

To me this is the same cardinal sin as Picard S1 – implying that some really interesting stuff happened when the audience wasn’t watching, and that it explains why the characters are behaving the way they are, and then… not disclosing that information. EXCEPT PICARD GAVE US MORE THAN THIS fjdghjfghjkhkd

I was not on Tumblr when I was watching Picard S1. Probably for the best.

But okay, they have a history, the show is gonna be about them, sure let’s move on. AND THEN THEY SPEND LIKE HALF THE EPISODES NOT EVEN IN THE SAME GALAXY. The time they do spend in the same room is 75% generic sniping. As someone who came into this way more invested in the Ahsoka & Anakin relationship, ep5 was very much NOW BACK TO THE GOOD PART

And the couple of beats they do have together have me going HUH? After ep2 I spent most of a day debating myself on whether there’s a missing scene, between Sabine getting stabbed and waking up in the hospital, where we see Ahsoka actually REACT. On one hand, Ahsoka would be upset, maybe we as the audience can fill in the gaps and we don’t need to spend time on it. On the other hand, maybe we do, tho? At the time I was thinking about how we haven’t seen Ahsoka truly emotionally vulnerable since TCW with the exception of “Shroud of Darkness” and maybe “Twilight of the Apprentice.” She has a very normal range of emotions, and she expresses them in very controlled ways, and I just wanna see what she looks like when that breaks down, ya know? What’s weird to me is that in ep4 when Ahsoka thinks Sabine is dead we do get this beat; she gets Real Mad there for a second. So maybe what we’re learning is it was a double beat and they should have cut the stabbing thing entirely I mean come on they had to have known they were gonna catch flack for that. Then again, having that moment shows the audience that Ahsoka does give a shit, more than she wants to admit and more than she typically shows Sabine, which is a fun compare/contrast with Anakin, and it might have given me a better understanding of the relationship if it had come earlier.

The other big beat is Sabine deciding to help the baddies. That is just such a devastatingly terrible decision. So bad, in fact, that I feel like we’re supposed to be drawing parallels to Anakin. Their whole “screw over the galaxy to save one person” thing. Except 1) Sabine is not Anakin and 2) in order for that to be interesting, Ahsoka needs more information than I think she has. She knows Padme died around the same time Anakin totally lost his shit, and that’s about it. Which is actually a fun little thought experiment: what assumptions does Ahsoka make about the causality there? The only people who could have given her more intel are Palpatine, Obi-Wan, and Vader – unlikely. So IF the show is about the lines between Anakin and Ahsoka and Sabine, Sabine’s choice here could be central to that, and crucially to Ahsoka’s understanding of that, except it’s just for the audience I guess?

I do really like that Ahsoka’s extremely chill about what Sabine did, though. Ahsoka “Eh Shit Happens” Tano. Somehow her lesson from all this is “masters support their apprentices literally no matter what. Citation: Mine did.” That’s an unhinged take and I expect nothing less from my blorbo.

WHICH IS WHY WE SHOULD HAVE AT LEAST GOTTEN A FLASHBACK TO THE SITUATION IN WHICH AHSOKA DIDN’T SUPPORT SABINE HRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH

I realize that I’m really tearing into this thing pretty much just for not being something it isn’t. Like, it’s not BAD. But maybe its weaknesses stem from not committing to being about any one thing. It’s kind of about intergenerational trauma, it’s kind of a Rebels Part Two, it’s kind of a Filoniverse installment, it’s kind of a worldbuilding exercise. And that’s not necessarily too much material for an 8-hour show. It’s more like the powers that be DECIDED that was too much material.

TLDR, footage of me after pretty much everything star wars that’s come out since the Disney acquisition:

#fringe benefit: I feel like I was actually on target with my “ahsoka and luke say way too many words” fic #weirdly validated that my post-empire ahsoka is within a standard deviation of the canon one #“she could maybe fucking say that” #ahsoka show #ahsoka spoilers #ahsoka tano #sabine wren #ahsoka and sabine #long post #ahsoka and anakin #Youtube

[twoidiotwriters1]

Daughter of Olympus (Leo Valdez xFem!Oc)

A/N: You get Nico, as a treat-Danny Words: 2,013 Series' Masterlist Previous Chapter / Next Chapter Listen to: 'Out Of My League' -by Fitz and The Tantrums

XXXIX: Fates' First Mistake Was Giving Me a Body, the Second? A Will

"Nico!"

"Ara!" Lily shouts, running after her friend.

Ara's never compared to her in speed, no matter how good she is at other stuff, so Lily reaches Nico way sooner.

"Don't listen to her!"

The boy looks at the girls with confusion. "What happened?"

"She made a fool of herself," Ara pants and supports both hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath. "Oh, gods, how can you run uphill like that? You're a cyborg or something?"

"You must be thirsty, Neeks, let's go get you something!" Lily tries to take him away.

"Wait," Nico smirks. "Is this boy-related?"

"Yes!"

Lily glares at Nico with determination. "Yesterday Leo used his shirt to clean his face and Ara was staring so hard she walked straight into a wall!"

"Connor heard Leo calling me sunshine," Ara acts like she didn't hear anything. "And he was making fun of us, so he called Lily 'My sweetheart' as a way to mock Leo, but Lily was drinking coffee—"

"He caught me off guard!"

"She spat it all over Connor!" Ara cackles. "Her face was redder than a strawberry!"

Nico never really laughs, but he enjoys hearing their funny stories, especially if they have to do with how they embarrass themselves in front of the guys they like. Ara and Lily rarely fail at stuff, so he thinks it's fair they suck at this.

"I hate you," Lily tries to seize Ara.

Ara sneaks away giggling, she uses Nico as a shield and he stays out of it. Nico moves forward while the girls chase each other around him until they reach the Big House.

"So you two are in your boy-crazy era?" He asks, sitting on the porch steps.

Ara wrinkles her nose. "Is that what this is?"

Lily blushes. "I'm not boy crazy! My brain works just fine, don't compare me to the Aphrodite!"

"You can judge me all you want, but I have a boyfriend and you can't even take a compliment without gagging."

"Lily's just playing the long game, aren't you?" Nico teases her. "I'm sure she'll tell Connor right before they die, so they can spend eternity together."

Ara snorts and Lily raises one fist as if to punch the boy, but he lifts one finger to stop her.

"Attenta, Saggio," he grins. "Don't wanna anger your patron, right?"

"Let me anger him for you, babe," Ara gets up to punch Nico, but Lily trips her.

"Stay away from each other," Lily warns them. "Now's not only my patron I've got to worry about, Nico. Did you know Leo can summon fire?"

"Leo won't fight my battles," Ara states calmly. "Especially when it comes to Nico. Kicking his ass is the highlight of my weekends."

"Likewise, hobbit."

We have no problem finding the palace, but Lily keeps glancing back at Cerberus longingly.

"It'll take a while for him to get in," I say, unable to utter Mike's name out loud. "We still have time."

Nico's sulking on the front steps of the palace, and as soon as he sees us he runs up to us. "How—"

I roughly seize him by the jacket. He's taller than me, but I'm too angry to care. "You backstabbing piece of—"

"Let go of me!" He snarls.

"Ara," Lily urges me, looking at the skeletons rushing forward to get us.

I toss Nico to the ground. "Call your father," I point at the dead guards. "And tell them to back off."

Hades agrees to see us, mostly because he's super insulted by my audacity. 

"I can't expect you to give up the fight, Lily Saggio," he says. "But I thought you knew better than to bring a Jackson to my palace."

Lily keeps her head down. "She's not here to offend you, my lord."

"No, of course not," he says with a hint of mockery. "An Aphrodite is no challenge for a god, and even if she's Perseus Jackson's sister, I'd like to think she's not as stupid."

"Lord Hades," I get on one knee in front of him. "If you let me, I'll explain why I'm here."

"And why would I care about that?" He asks.

"I know you won't fight if you're not promised respect, recognition worthy of your sacrifice," I glance at Nico without lifting my gaze, "and a place for your children amongst the rest of us."

"A charmspeaker, aren't you?" He points out sharply.

I go straight to my point. "I think can help, my lord."

"You think?" He presses.

I'm not sounding like I want to. Michael believed in me the most, and I'm not an expert at looking confident. Without him, I have no one to speak for me, so if I only have myself, I can't guess, I have to get things done.

"I'll give you what you want," I look up at the god. "If you accept my offer."

He laughs, but he doesn't throw me out of the palace, so I can still convince him. "What can you offer to a God that he can't get himself?"

"A daughter of Olympus."

His eyes flash greedily, but he isn't convinced. "Children of Olympus can't favor a god above others, Jackson."

"If the god favors them beforehand," I reply. "They can."

"You're asking for my blessing?"

"Something of heavier meaning. Show faith in me, obliging to my request."

He takes a heavy breath. "And what would that request be?"

"Fight with us," I look at Nico. "I'll make sure your son has a place in our camp, and you'll get to be one of the gods that didn't turn his back on us, you could be the first patron of the first daughter of Olympus."

He ponders this, looking me up and down. "Do you even know how to use a sword?"

I pull Almighty out of my pocket and show her off, now I have his full attention. "I've been trained, yes."

"Pantodýnamos," Hades's grip on the throne tightens, he leans forward, staring at my sword in awe. "How..?"

"The fates chose me," I continue confidently. "Will you?"

He fixes his posture and glances back at Lily and Nico. "I've heard enough."

"Thank you," I smiled politely, bowing to him. "I'll know you accepted if you show up to fight."

He mutters some stuff as we walk out of the palace. 

"That's what you were trying to do?" The boy inquires as soon as his father is out of sight. "I thought—"

"That I was going after Achilles's curse," I glance at him with annoyance. "That should teach you— When I ask you to do something, just do what I tell you."

He scowls at me. "I did what I thought you wanted—"

"You did what you thought would make you look better," I stop to face him. "You don't fool me, Nico Di Angelo. I know you're not a bad person, but you're very stupid if you think I'll ever forget this. I don't trust you, and Percy never will."

He reaches for his sword, but Lily yanks me onwards. "Let's go back now, or they'll realize we're missing," she says. "And I wanna sleep before our next fight."

I know we have a few hours left before we could be at risk of getting caught. Annabeth is injured and Percy's probably still sleeping—the only person who would've noticed our absence fast enough would've been Mike, but he's gone, and that's given us a type of freedom we never asked for.

"You want to be a hero?" I press, still glaring at Nico. "Convince your father, then maybe Percy will reconsider."

I'm being an ass for manipulating Nico like this, but I never said I'm not like the other charmers in my family. Also, I'm a matchmaker, and that works in more ways than just romantically. 

Hades is a good match for my ambitions, and Nico's a good match for the cause. I'm merely working with what the fates laid down for me. I can only hope... 

No. I believe this is enough.

Ara's studying a map in the rec room when Leo finally finds her. She feels him before she sees him, he wraps an arm around her shoulders and kisses her cheek. "I've got something for you."

Ara glances up at him a little distracted. "What is it?"

"Two things," he pulls something out of his tool belt. "Here's a snack so you stay motivated for the rest of the month!"

Ara looks down and laughs. Leo is holding a stack of photographs of him in various places of camp. He made an effort to look ridiculous in every single one of them.

"What is this?" She asks, looking through them.

"I can't Iris message you every hour of the day, so these will have to do."

"How thoughtful of you!" Ara replies, half-amused and half-bashful. "Who took this?"

"The Stolls. Piper helped with the costumes, though."

"They're great," she puts them in her pocket. "I'll put them up on my ceiling back in New York, so you're the first thing I see when I wake up."

"Damn, you love me too much," He jokes, squeezing her shoulders.

"What's the other thing you wanted to show me?"

"Right! Look at this!" 

He steps away to pull a larger item from his belt: It looks like an ancient scroll, but when he rolls it open a projection starts playing on it. Ara gasps and picks it up.

"What!" She watches as a tiny projection of Leo walks around the bunker giving the viewer a tour. "How did you make this?"

"I'm very smart," he grins. "You like it?"

"This is so cool!"

Leo starts glowing, he's comfortable with her praising nowadays, though it still makes him slightly dizzy. 

"Last weekend you couldn't come cause you had a pile of homework, so I thought I could send you this with a weekly report. Everyone can record a short message for you, so you know everything that's going on around here while you're away."

Ara beams at the idea. "That's awesome. Thank you."

"Don't mention it," he pinches her chin as a brief affectionate gesture. "It's the least I can do to help my stunning girlfriend."

"True," Ara nods solemnly. "That, and sharing your full name with me." 

He snorts. "Nice try."

"Leo!"

"Pretty close. It's Leobard."

"Liar."

He laughs. "Are you sure?"

"Why are you torturing me with this?" She scowls.

"You don't need to know my full name, sunshine," Leo brushes it off. "Cause the only way you're allowed to address me is either by a cute nickname like 'Baby' or 'Honey', and plain Leo when you're in General mode. See? Easy."

"I'm not calling you any sweet names unless you tell me your full name!"

"I can live with that," he taunts her. "Can you live with the doubt?"

Ara groans. "C'mon! It can't be ugly."

"It's not that I hate it," Leo grins. "I just like to give out different names when people ask me, and if you go around shouting my name then the joke dies."

"I promise not to call you that in front of the others," Ara pouts. "Pleeeease?"

Leo frowns. "Hey! Not fair, don't look at me like that!"

Ara gives him the most pitiful look she can, placing her arms around his neck and leaning closer. "If you tell me your name," she continues quietly. "I promise to call you ridiculously long fake names in front of everyone else."

The boy sighs, shaking his head a little. "You know the way to my heart..."

"Being real for a moment," Ara says, smoothing out the front of his shirt. "Why can't I know?"

Leo's eyes brighten with amusement, he holds her face and kisses her briefly. "Well, I already dropped the L bomb and took you on a picnic date on the beach, I'm running out of options to keep you interested, and my name is the only thing I've got left!"

Ara laughs, pulling him closer. "You know... next month is Valentine's Day, we can convince Chiron to let you visit the city that weekend?"

Leo hums, half-listening. His brain gets all fuzzy when Ara stands this close to him. "Could be fun..."

"We can go to the movies and you can meet my parents!"

"Movies and parents," His eyes regain focus and they grow worried. "Parents?"

Ara kisses him again. "And if everything goes as planned, then maybe you won't need to keep me on my toes, and I'll know your full name."

"Are you sure you want me to meet your parents?" He asks anxiously.

She nods, eyes bright with affection. "You'll love them."

He makes a face. "That's not the part I'm worried about."

Next Chapter ->

Taglist.

@siriuslysirius1107 @ask-giggles1303 @ash-the-hoarder @im-planning-something-look @bandshirts-andbooks @coolninjapaper @thewaterlily @whenisthefall @1randomcomic @you-bloody-shank @sunflowergraves @owlalex44 @taylordaughter @typicalsolangelolover @writingmia @espressopatronum454 @slytherinnqueen @orbitingpolaris @obxstiles

#twoidiots writing #pjo fanfic #pjo hoo toa #pjo fandom #percy jackson and the olympians #leo valdez x oc #leo valdez fanfic #doo

[6ad6ro]

ok. i finally finished final fantasy vii rebirth. and i wanna talk about it. i guess you could call this my "review". this post will be vague and spoiler-free unless you click on the "read more".

i do love this game, but it's an absolute mixed bag: story: 10/10 combat mechanics: 9/10 music: 9/10 art direction: 10/10 voice acting (jp): 10/10 open world (non-quest stuff): 4/10 sidequests: 6/10 minigames: 3/10 pacing: 1/10 does this game have flaws? yes. is it as good as the og ff7? no. but is it worth playing? absolutely. i almost feel like this game needs a "cheat sheet" in order to know what parts to play and what parts to avoid. but the good parts (mostly the linear main story stuff) is SO gd good that it's still a must-play game. ok but now i'm gonna go into details (and spoilers) under the rm cut.

so i'll go over some of my scores. firstly, the story is the main reason to play this. they def fuck around a lot, maybe they bait and switch a bit too often, but in the end it makes for a very compelling (or at least interesting) narrative. at first, i was REALLY worried that this game was gonna turn into just some "fan pandering nightmare". and it felt like it was "ff7 without it's claws". esp when everybody was dancing like pop stars and aerith and tifa kept high fiving. but... it def got into that good ff7 trauma we know and love later on. and respect to them for following through with killing aerith. yes, they did what i sorta expected. they teased tifa dying instead, teased aerith NOT dying, and then killed aerith anyway. they EASILY could have left her alive, but they didn't. they kept in the loss angle, which imo is what makes ff7 "ff7". i kinda LOVE that now you have a batshit cloud "seeing" aerith's ghost like it's star wars. and everyone else seems almost... afraid of him. and rightfully so. also i LOVED the zack stuff, even though it was absolutely confusing. i like that they're hinting at zack somehow breaking through his reality into the rm universe. i also like the tease that... idk... will there be another "party" involving zack, kyrie, biggs (if he's still alive or not)? regardless, a great story!

the combat feels mostly improved over rm. the gameplay is fantastic with very few flaws. difficulty is way more balanced than rm, with easy feeling a bit harder and normal feeling less unfair. the only times i felt frustrated by the gameplay was when they laid the "stone" status effect on too thick in parts bc it felt cheap. is it as good as the og combat? no. it still def has the unfun "you desperately need to heal but don't have a charge and the enemy is immune to everything so you just die" thing. but credit where its due, the "free item a few times per battle" materia fixes a lotta those issues.

the music is incredible. the remakes of old songs generally kick ass. some of the new music was pretty good, too. though it gets a point off because a lot of the open world stuff music felt... generic? this is just a situation where the og game's music is TOO GOOD, so the new music will always be fighting this sort of uphill battle.

the art was perfect. just the shading alone... like jesus this game is absolutely beautiful. i took so many goddamn screenshots in game, and they'd often end up looking like key renders, even tho it'd just be a random ss i could take at any angle. this game went above and beyond all expectations.

the voice acting... there was SO MUCH and it was all SO GOOD. tho i did switch to jp voices. bc... in this sorta storytelling, eng just sounds like "drama club"? idk there's a reason the language of origin cast is usually better and that's just how it is. it was perfect.

ok now we're gonna get into some of my issues, starting with the open world. it's not ENTIRELY awful? some was genuinely fun and exciting. but the majority was busywork. like it's so weird when the mainline stuff was so good that this would feel like a shitty ubisoft game. and chadley... fuck that dude. worst character in the series. but for SOME gd reason he ends up talking to you nonstop! i hit the point where i'd wince any time i heard his "radio" turn on. he took an already mediocre open world and made it way worse. fuckin chudly.

the sidequests that weren't just repeated busywork were usually neat. tho some were bad, and others withstood their welcome. the cutscenes/dialogue were usually fun or genuinely great, but they too often came at the cost of wasting your time. they often had shit rewards. and they often incorporated the shittiest "minigames" ever (i'll go into this more in a minute). example: you gotta find ingredients for a character who is learning to cook. but it isn't just going out to find them in the world. no no no. you gotta follow a dog (ftr i love the song) as they slowly meander through a jungle, running into every mob they see. and when you finally get to where the "salt" is, there's a dumb scavenger hunt minigame where you need to find only the 5(?) salt piles that look like the photo. THEN you gotta get on your chocobo and look for mushrooms in a confusing, puzzle-like terrain. which also involves a smelling/follow the direction minigame, which always leads you into mobs. and once you get to each mushroom? there's this STUPID picking minigame. after all that, what reward do you get? an accessory that functions like maybe the worst materia in the game, but also takes up the accessory slot, making it even more unusable. FUCK this game sometimes, lol.

speakin of "fuck this game", the minigames. the 200 minigames (exaggeration, but it really feels like that many). some are genuinely incredible, like the piano minigame? which might be one of my favorite minigames of all time, it's legit THAT good. or "red xiii rocket league". but for every good minigame, there was a mediocre one. and then a terrible one. or one that gets WAY too hard in higher difficulties, like the mog game which starts fun but ends up dogshit and unplayable a few levels in. even tho the good and passable minigames are the majority, the bad minigames? they're maybe some of the worst minigames i've ever played in my goddamn life. like, by design, they're almost anti-fun. i genuinely believe some of the people in charge of the bad minigames should be blackballed from the industry. it's bewildering.

and finally that brings us to the pacing. if you play the game the way they seemingly expect you to play, getting to each new area and sidequesting a bit before continuing on with the story? then you'll spend five hours of mediocre/bad sidequest for each hour of good story. that's even worst if you're a "completionist" at all, you can triple or quadruple that number. we all loved remake because it "expanded the midgar section". we were all hoping they'd do the same with the og open world. the very idea of "big open world, but so much bigger" seemed incredible. but they certainly gave it to us! like they gave us exactly what we said we wanted, lol. when i first started playing rb, i was mostly completing each area. by the second or third area, i was more than 50 hours in. "burnout" is a gross understatement. all the mediocre sidequests combined with the sometimes unplayable minigames ALSO COMBINED with fuckin chudly? and i actually started to hate this game. it made me miserable. i'd get to a new area and just roll my eyes. i'd see a new minigame tutorial pop up and i'd mash "cancel". but wouldn't you know it, once i started skipping most minigames/sidequests? i started havin a ton of fun. turns out this pacing issue can be mitigated a lot. straight up you can ignore most of the open world, and i would actually strongly recommend it. if you DO wanna sidequest a bit between story, i'd say put on a podcast, set the difficulty to easy, and turn the voices down (bc chudly). and don't do everything. oh no. just do enough to unlock the chocobo, to buy the best materia chudly has from that area, and maybe get the summoning. even THAT is probably too much. bc near the end of the game, you get the opportunity to go back and finish a bunch of the stuff you missed the first time. and i actually enjoyed a lotta that stuff then! it was almost like a period of rest and relaxation before the end story stuff.

there are ways, intentional or not, to make this game feel even BETTER than remake. when you skip most of the side stuff, it's paced incredibly well. so it's hard to say it's a bad game. it's actually a really GOOD game with "too much side content". if you treat the open world stuff as just like, a living, detailed world you glance at as you zoom by? it's actually really cool that it's there. i have a couple more pros/cons that i wanna mention, but i don't know where else to put em. like the end fights. thematically, i adored em. in execution, it went on for way way WAY too long. it was like a 15 (yes FIFTEEN) phase fight. on normal, i swear it felt like it took close to two hours, full of unskippable cutscenes and only like one checkpoint. it also takes away al of your team composition too, consistently forcing you to use characters you don't wanna use in the hardest fights in the game. first time, i got through to the very last sliver of final sephiroth's health, only for him to cast some dogshit unblockable "everyone is at 1hp" move at the end. it was ok bc "i'd prepared for this". so i instantly had one character use a gigapotion on the other, who i switched to so they could dodge just to be extra safe. the potion... missed? how? and then before i had a chance to use another, he killed the remaining character. bad game. shit game. but whatever, i hit retry. and i couldn't believe it. it sent me back 7 phases. i was livid. it had sucked the air outta the room. so i said fuck it and restarted the whole fight from the start on easy, because i can't tolerate that kind of scumbag game design that wastes a player's time. and wouldn't you know it, turns out i'd been at the very end of the fight when i died. if the potion had gone off like it shoulda, i would have won, no question. ironically even on easy, that trash situation happened again, but the potion actually went off this time, that was the only difference. but yeah. fuck that fight. it was cooler thematically than the final fight in rm, but it was three times as long, and three times more unfair. fuck whoever designed this fight, they too should be blackballed from the industry, lol.

the last thing i wanna talk about is queens blood. bc my feelings on it are sorta all over. so it starts out kinda boring, like as basic as ff8 triple triad, but wayyy less fun. and you're very limited in who you can play and what cards you can add to your deck. the ai seemingly "cheats", but it's so "linear" that you can win anyhow. and they musta known they'd lose most players, so they legit give you the ability to "flip the game board" at any point in the match and start over with zero punishment. they knew the game wasn't rly fair by design. but it's still good they had the easy retry feature, or they woulda lost me too. the qb experience sorta continues this way until you get to the latter junon area, where suddenly you run into... idk what to call it. intense difficulty spikes? like this dickwad who's playin a rockabilly guitar. FUCK that dude's deck and FUCK his ai. almost single-handedly got me to drop qb altogether. i was absolutely done, had decided qb was just a poorly designed game. thankfully, right after junon they have this big tournament on the boat to costa del sol and it's really fun. you suddenly are getting cards that have actual strategy. and suddenly qb opens up. there was a slight misstep after the boat where they make you play these stupid "puzzle" versions of qb, but you can look up guides and, even if they aren't fun, they help teach you about the game. anyways, i cautiously started playin more matches in later areas (skippin fights that seemed too lame), and before i knew it, i'd kinda fallen in love w the game. it also helped that they started incorporating this fun n bizarre story, too. so idk. i'd say play qb the same way you play the side content, skip a lot of it until you get to the end game? and then go back with cards you bought or won and finish the ones u missed. it's so weird that so much of this game works this way. and i could see someone arguing that "it's just a bad game". because when most games hand you content, even side content, most players expect they should at least give the content a fair shot. it really is kinda poorly executed. but! there are so any ways to mitigate the bad and focus on the good. knowing what i know now, i like this game even more than remake (which i really REALLY love). rebirth was fuckin great. and thank fuck i didn't get spoiled, tho i never wanna hafta try n rush through a 100+ hour open world ever again. i'm really excited for part three, just hopin i can remember to skip over a lotta the optional stuff. also hoping i won't have to buy a fuckin ps6 or whatever just to play it.

#final fantasy vii rebirth #spoiler #spoilers #final fantasy vii spoilers #final fantasy vii rebirth spoilers #long #i had a lot to say

[divine-knight-hand]

Rant below the cut!

I just saw a video on TikTok where a woman was claiming that maladaptive daydreaming was a sin, and can I just say, how dare you?

Personal attack and hurt feelings aside, how dare you take it upon yourself to condemn a group that you couldn’t possibly relate to?

She argued that, not only was maladaptive daydreaming a form of idolatry, but choosing not to do anything about it and accepting defeat was a personal affront to God.

As a Christian, yes, I agree, maladaptive daydreaming sucks. It can be controlling, and it can put a strain on my relationship with my God, but have you considered that some a lot of us don’t have a choice?

Maladaptive daydreaming is a mental disorder. Yeah, I said it. It took a long time for me to accept that myself, but it is. And, guess what? I did try to quit. I tried to quit and it worked! I managed to quit cold turkey and stopped maladaptive daydreaming for a whole week. And then, I fell into a depression. I cried myself to sleep every night and begged God, “Please, take this away. I don’t believe I can fight this alone. I need you.”

And His response pretty much equated to, “If you want to leave this behind, you need to fight it on your own.” I’m only human, so of course I failed and it dragged me right back under.

Did I pick the choice He would have wanted me to? Of course not! Is it possible that maladaptive daydreaming could be considered a sin? Sure, I’ll even entertain that idea. But, it is NEVER okay to look down your nose at someone who is clearly having a tougher time than you.

Just as you shouldn’t take it upon yourself to condemn someone with an addiction, you shouldn’t take it upon yourself to condemn someone with a mental disorder. But, that’s the thing with you “Christians”, it’s always “love thy neighbor” until they have different beliefs, ideas, or lives than you. That ideology is fake as fuck, and it’s what made me skeptical of the religion in the first place.

If God sends me to Hell for maladaptive daydreaming, then that would prove that He never loved me at all. But, that’s not what I know to be the truth.

The God I believe in does not hold exceptions. He’s merciful, and He loves all, regardless of their paths of life, and hurts for the decisions we make that end up harming ourselves. He’s not going to condemn any maladaptive daydreamers for struggling in the uphill battle, or even giving up. He’ll hurt for us, yeah, but not send us to Hell.

And, to my fellow maladaptive daydreamers who might have had any “Christians” in their own lives try to guilt trip them out of maladaptive daydreaming, your life is yours alone to judge (and change, if you so choose). Take each day at your own pace, and if you choose to fight it, good on you. But, if not, you won’t face eternal damnation for succumbing to something you’re struggling to face.

And, since the woman in her video chose to use a bible verse in her video, I’d like to contribute one of my own: “The one without sin among you should be the first to throw a stone at her.”‭ -John‬ ‭8‬:‭7‬ ‭CSB‬‬

Remember that story? Yeah, let’s not analyze the flaws of others under a microscope before we dare to take a look at our own.

Rant over!

#That just made my blood boil #Where does the entitlement come from? #The Knight speaks! #tw: vent #tw: mental health #tw: crying #tw: religion #maladaptive daydreaming #maladaptive daydreamer

[scholarhect]

frustrated because i want to get educated on feminist theory but idk where to start, especially since there’s so much flawed feminism out there (god, you’re saying i have to read it all and form my own opinion? but that’s so much work! just tell me what One feminist work i should read to know everything) but it’s so important because i’m becoming increasingly convinced that our deemphasis on theory is killing feminism.

we’re losing her. we’re doing vibes-based feminism we’re doing “whatever personal opinions i bring to the table without thinking about them are my political views” feminism we’re doing “it’s easy! if you don’t hate women and want them to die you’re a feminist!” feminism we’re doing VANITY feminism we’re doing “common sense” feminism (just a rephrase of “whatever personal opinions…” feminism) and we’re shocked that we’re losing. a political movement & ideology* that has NO thought behind it, JUST vibes. no pillars, no standards. what even is a feminist? when do you ever hear that articulated? unless, again, you’re hearing “a feminist is somebody who believes women are people :)” that’s exactly the problem i’m talking about.

this is why we’re losing ground to “criticizing beauty standards is antifeminist because it feels good to be pretty” feminism we’re losing ground to “you know what group has had it too good for too long? the transgender woman” feminism we’re losing ground to “feminism is for women AND men and the more we include men the more feminist it is” feminism.

frankly the way the transphobic feminism gains followers is it’s the only fucking side that actually gives somebody ARGUMENTS to latch on to. people are alienated by toothless no thoughts feminism and they’re going to people who are offering them some thoughts, and a bad argument beats the shit out of no argument at all. it’s like if you showed up to court with no lawyer? and you were like “everybody knows i’m right, morally. it’s common sense. the strength of that will protect me :)” you are going to prison. we could be doing transfeminist theory we could be explaining the role of gender in society and how it’s constructed and how women both cis & trans are constructed as women but instead we’re saying “i don’t hate trans women because i’m normal :)” that’s nothing!!! am i making myself clear do you see what i’m talking about!

and then the other two things i complained about, the “feminism is anything that makes me feel good, as a woman” and “feminism is for men, actually” are just because when we have zero standards for feminism it can mean anything at all. we could be talking about these things but we aren’t.

i don’t know how to fix this (i could learn more, but what then? well i guess id post about it for my followers. good enough, i guess. so it’s just that i don’t know how to learn more) but i am getting so frustrated with the way things are now. i know there’s people out there doing real things in the feminist space but i don’t know where to look… lot of trans women on my twitter tl talking about feminism (and yes that’s something, but i am hungry for more than twitter threads <3) and they’re fighting an uphill battle over there. like. god

* i feel like it’d be the good feminist thing to do to come down hard with “feminism is a MOVEMENT” but we do kind of need internal ideology before we can have external movement, probably. seems like people who already have feminist ideas are more likely to engage in feminist actions when the time comes. but idk i’m no political movements expert. this post is just me giving you my two cents on a specific concept

#i’ll leave you with an example of what i’m talking about #‘trans women are women’. true! #but gets denigrated as a mantra with nothing behind it by the gender critical side of things #and it DOES have meaning behind it. but frankly. how many of us know what that meaning is? #how many of us know what a woman is and why a trans woman is one #and that’s why their ‘what is a woman?’ line of questioning is so successful. because theres an answer to that question but nobody knows it! #‘um… well i know some trans women and i respect them…’ is a good place to START from but it’s not where you want to end up #post tag #i wrote this whole fucking thing as one paragraph & then slapped in some paragraph breaks & that fucking astrix #(the astrix stuff was just in parentheses before) #so. if it doesn’t read like separate paragraphs. that’s because it’s not. it’s one paragraph with some paragraph breaks thrown in #i wanted it to be a bit less than completely fucking unreadable #that’s why every paragraph ends with a end-of-sentence punctuation mark but the last sentence doesn’t #nervous to post something opinionated like this… if it’s not perfect maybe lmk & we can discuss it! #annnnnd post

[dogbitesy]

tori who is throwing a tantrum. tori who they say is obsessed wirh frivolous things. tori who can't stop spitting in the adults faces when they try to discipline her bc she hates their tone of voice. raised as the himemiya heir, the lofty role of firstborn son sours her like a little grape, turning her bitter and spoiled. she can only get her way by stamping her feet, but the sight of the other children, straight as boards, makes her sick, so stamping becomes second nature. anything to escape the rigid orthodoxy of training for this life you don't want. and the person she admires the most essentially sees her as a living stuffed doll, and she’s trying to be taken seriously, without knowing her fine was BORN TO LOSE and be seen in a villainous light. so she spends ALL THIS TIME striving towards being part of the fine she admired, the one that gives light and hope, but is essentially just being used as a pawn in some larger scheme where fine now exists to do the exact opposite..no wonder shes pissed off when this ugly ginger spins her block for.absolutely no.reason. from her perspective fine (heros) are being absolutely ripped to shreds by rogues and everyone is like lalalalala. no⁉ but bc she ISNT taken seriously and has to fight for the right to be humanized as always, and figure out how to do that without being a little tyrant basically, all while being surrounded by haters and enablers. she literally fought the uphill battle, won, and the people STILL THROW STONES!!!!’’’’’!

#. #tori himemiya

[reblogging4thewin]

Just some The Winchesters thoughts

So, Millie told Mary offscreen that John's anger issues stem from childhood, and Mary recognizes that she and hunting are excuses for him to act on that anger.

Well, there are a couple of dimensions to unpack here...part of which is going to bring in my psychology degree...

And then I also have some thoughts on angel interference in their relationship- bc I do think we're already seeing it happen on screen.

Nature vs Nurture and John's fate

So, one of the main things I learned when studying psychology was a disturbing fact that sounds wrong coming from an optimist like me, but it's true, and John is a shining example.

I chose to focus on twin studies whenever I had freedom to choose essay topics, because twins fascinate me. I found more than I bargained for. The nature vs nurture debate is the most contested, never settled, debate in psychology, and well - prior to ethics rules prohibiting such, there were some twin studies that really really seem to show that Nature wins out (the short reductive version is they separated twins from a broken home at birth and gave one a lesser/fucked up upbringing and gave the other a cushy upbringing, and they both turned out poorly). That is not to say that nurture has no effect, and it doesn't mean that people cannot change. But if it's in your blood, then it's a verrry verrry uphill battle to say the least.

This is part of why Millie saying John had an anger issue from the start doesn't surprise me. It also is reinforced by the fact that he is surrounded by people who are encouraging him otherwise, and he tries, but it just isn't enough at this point (and as we know, ultimately isn't enough in the end).

John volunteering for Vietnam is partially about being lost without his dad, sure yeah. But it's also a license to channel the violence.

In a way, after getting back from the war, the letter from Henry was basically the fucked-up Hogwarts letter John had been waiting for, wanting for. It lead him on a quest (giving purpose) and to hunting (means of channeling the violence).

2. The Draw of Mary

His need for purpose and connection to this life is a major draw. The letter allegedly from Henry brought him here, but what's keeping him here? He found out the truth. So....

Saving the world is one, but he said it in this scene - that's kind of an afterthought. He and Mary both recognize here that he's using her as an excuse to stay in this. But why?

Because he needs hunting as a license for violence. He can't get that outside of war - so he's found a war to fight in.

3. Angel interference

Have you noticed how everyone is needling them about getting with each other? You could argue Millie doing that is normal bc she's his mom.

But what about Tracy doing that with Mary?

Or Ada encouraging her?

I don't think any of them are possessed or anything like that, but that they themselves have been influenced.

The effect is more powerful if they can make it come from trusted sources rather trying to brute force it. So of course they would try that route first.

Just like the Akreida have manipulated them into feeding them power, the angels can manipulate them into feeding the relationship.

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