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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Note

First time submitting prompts, fairly new follower. Love your writing!

NHS and LWJ friendship. Subtle and maybe people other than their big brothers don't see it and it shocks people when they find out. Mostly Canon compliant?

Associates - Part 3 - ao3, pt 1, pt 2

In the end, it was Lan Wangji who went to get Wei Wuxian, rather than wait patiently for him to return of his own free will as he had originally intended.

It had been Nie Huaisang’s idea, after nearly a year of Wei Wuxian travelling – they’d never actually pursued the jealousy idea he’d initially suggested on account of it being a terrible idea, Lan Wangji’s temporary moment of insanity in even considering it aside. It had come up seemingly apropos of nothing, one day when the two of them were working together in Lan Wangji’s study, Lan Wangji filling out the paperwork in his graceful handwriting as Nie Huaisang flittered around solving problems – he preferred pacing as he thought, which perhaps explained his reluctance to work on documents despite his beautiful calligraphy, and all the marching around made him, in some moments, look remarkably like his elder brother, something Lan Wangji deliberately refrained from ever mentioning.

“You need to go pick him up,” Nie Huaisang had suddenly said, in between planning out the next discussion conference and explaining why a seemingly minor dispute regarding shifting the boundary line near the Yuncheng Bao sect by a single li could have catastrophic consequences for the Jin sect’s long-term stability. “I know you’re afraid of giving the impression that you’re trapping him and restraining his freedom, but that’s your problem, not his. He wants to be asked.”

“Does he?” Lan Wangji had asked, finishing the sentence he was on and putting down the brush. Some things took priority above night-fishing rights near a contained Waterborne Abyss, no matter the new head of the Laoling Qin sect might think.

“Mm, yes. He’s been taking a lot of night hunts in the immediate vicinity of Gusu, close but never too close…Lan Zhan, he’s hinting that he wants you to chase him.”

“Pride?”

“A bit, maybe? Mostly I think it was his position in Yunmeng Jiang, where the former Sect Leader Jiang wanted him and Madame Yu didn’t, so his status was always that slightest bit uncertain. Here and now, he wants to know that he’s really welcome…don’t give me that look! He knows he’s welcome, you’ve made that clear, but making you be the one to ask is just another way to ensure that it’s actually true.”

And so Lan Wangji had gone to where he’d heard that Wei Wuxian was night-hunting, flying down on Bichen when he saw him walking with Lil’ Apple along a mountain path – he called his name, and Wei Wuxian had turned and smiled…

Wei Wuxian had come back with him.

More than that – he’d kissed him, he’d said he was staying with him, he’d agreed to marry him, to live their life together from then on.

They were officially engaged now, the auspicious date having been selected, Jiang Cheng and Jin Ling having demanded roles on the side of the bride – Wei Wuxian briefly protested being the bride, then realized that he was marrying into the Lan sect and promptly reversed course, announcing that he wanted all the trappings of being a bride, excluding the dress – and life was very, very good.

Unfortunately, a couple of weeks was about as long as the cultivation world could hold off on needing its Chief Cultivator to be more than part time – he’d done a lot of the work in the mornings while Wei Wuxian was still asleep or when he was busy, and of course he had the system of delegation that Nie Huaisang had constructed for him and naturally Nie Huaisang himself helping out through his letters – and regretfully, Lan Wangji had had to return his full focus to his duties.

At first, it didn’t mark that much of a change: Wei Wuxian would bring projects of his own and they would work side by side, Lan Wangji already accustomed to the presence of another through all the work he’d done with Nie Huaisang, and Lan Wangji insisted that Wei Wuxian go out regularly with the juniors for night-hunts even if he himself could not. It all seemed fine, except only that Lan Wangji had the distinct feeling that he was missing something important.

It was only when the first big issue came up – a serious dispute between two small sects – that Lan Wangji realized what that was.

He sent a message to the Unclean Realm and waited.

Nie Huaisang arrived at the Cloud Recesses at the exact time one might expect if Nie Huaisang had received the message and left at once at top speed, accounting for the relatively slow pace he had when flying as a result of his mediocre cultivation.

Letter still crushed in his hand, he swept into the jingshi in his usual manner, all high drama and flash, wailing, “Lan Zhan! You betrayed me! You, of all people! My oldest friend!”

Lan Wangji, who had been expecting this, rolled his eyes.

Wei Wuxian, sitting in the desk he’d claimed as his own, looked up, startled. “Nie Huaisang?”

“Oh, hi, Wei Wuxian, congratulations on your engagement, has Lan Zhan shown you the present I sent? Probably not, he never does – Lan Zhan! Don’t think I’m letting you distract me with Wei Wuxian! You answer for this right away!”

He waved the crumbled letter at Lan Wangji.

“There is nothing to explain,” Lan Wangji said. “I requested your assistance in my capacity as Chief Cultivator.”

“You called me a spineless, gutless coward!”

Wei Wuxian made a choking sound.

“I sought to accurately characterize your recent behavior,” Lan Wangji said, and noted that Wei Wuxian’s choking noises got worse, although he did not actually appear to be in need of air. “Do you object?”

(There was something about Nie Huaisang’s company that reminded Lan Wangji irresistibly of being a child again, he had found, and it was only recently that he had begun to remember that as a child he had once had a tendency to bite. A pleasant rediscovery, even if the sharpness of his teeth were now expressed via paper and ink rather than through physical attacks.)

“You were the one who took a month off,” Nie Huaisang complained, a blatant lie given that Lan Wangji had been on partial duty for no more than two weeks, but dropped into his usual place at Lan Wangji’s side obediently enough. “Lan Zhaaaaaaan, don’t make me do work –”

Lan Wangji was going to say something about how it wasn’t like Nie Huaisang was doing any less work by doing his part in the Unclean Realm rather than being physically present in Gusu for consultations, he was just doing it less efficiently, but that was when Wei Wuxian coughed into his hand.

“Sect Leader Nie,” he said, with too much formality, but Nie Huaisang waved his hands at him querulously, clearly disapproving, and his shoulders relaxed a little. “Ah – Nie Huaisang. Since when do you call Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan? I thought you called him Lan-er-gongzi?”

“Oh, no, it’s been Lan Zhan since I was – what, seven or so?” Nie Huaisang said. “I wasn’t joking about him being my oldest friend, you know. We were just fighting back then, when you came for the lectures.”

Wei Wuxian blinked rapidly and turned to look at Lan Wangji, who nodded in confirmation.

They’d failed each other rather thoroughly back then, neither one being there for the other when they could have been. Nie Huaisang had not been wrong to observed that simply because he had always been free and open with his affections, Lan Wangji had assumed they would always be there to be resumed at a later time, without any need for maintenance – playing hot and cold, offering and receiving comfort and support at certain times, totally distant at others…it wasn’t until much later, when Lan Wangji emerged from seclusion, that he had needed Nie Huaisang again, and realized what he’d lost in the blank and disinterested glance of the boy he’d once thought of as his friend, who now seemed to visit the Cloud Recesses only in search of his elder brother.

They’d spoken in those intervening years, but it had always been light, superficial. Lan Wangji could have reached out a hand at that time, sought to resume their relationship, but he was consumed with his own grief, his own troubles, and out of respect for the face of his sect he had refused to share them; perhaps if he had, Nie Huaisang wouldn’t have done what he had done, would have relied upon him instead.

Perhaps things would have been very different.

It wasn’t until he’d finally swallowed his pride to ask Nie Huaisang for help with the overwhelming work of being Lan sect leader and Chief Cultivator both that they had broken through that distance once more. It had been difficult at first, readjusting their long-lost patterns to their adult behaviors, but they had slowly but surely fallen into a comfortable dynamic that suited them both.

“I had no idea,” Wei Wuxian said blankly. “You spend much time together?”

“Nie-xiong assists me in my duties,” Lan Wangji interjected before Nie Huaisang could spout something stupid about eloping, as he was sometimes wont to do. “He has been critical in ensuring that I am not overwhelmed.”

Wei Wuxian mouthed ‘Nie-xiong’, but what he said was, “You, Lan Zhan? Overwhelmed?”

Lan Wangji nodded. “My brother went into seclusion,” he explained. “As sect heir, I became responsible for the duties of sect leader of the Lan sect, and I had also accepted the post of Chief Cultivator.”

“And he didn’t have anyone else to help, so he came to me,” Nie Huaisang said cheerfully, ignoring how Wei Wuxian’s eye twitched. “I hope you don’t mind. It was very convenient a trade: I know plenty of things about being a sect leader – more than you’d think, I swear! – and Lan Wangji, as Chief Cultivator, can help me whenever someone tries to make something out of that awful business last year.”

There had been a few unfortunate sequelae to those events. Nie Huaisang’s role had never been officially confirmed, but somehow word had gotten out regardless and sects throughout the cultivation world were looking at Nie Huaisang in suspicion – less out of concern for Jin Guangyao, although there were a few that had especially benefited from his rule that were disappointed, than with an eye towards the future. The wise ones were afraid of his patience and planning, but far more were simply greedy, looking for a chance to finally uproot the notorious Headshaker now that his best protection, his brother’s two sworn brothers, were not there to defend him.

As he had promised, Lan Wangji had defied any attempts by others to do anything of that sort.

As he had promised, he would not change his mind or withdraw his support, no matter what Wei Wuxian said.

His shoulders tensed as Wei Wuxian looked over at him, his expression thoughtful. “I’m going to need to talk to Jiang Cheng,” he remarked, seemingly unrelatedly, and then said, “Well, I trust Lan Zhan’s judgment.”

Nie Huaisang had covered his face with his fan and was looking over it at Wei Wuxian. “You do? And here I thought you didn’t associate with evil…”

“Those are from Lan Zhan’s sect rules, not mine,” Wei Wuxian declared. “If he doesn’t judge you to be evil, who am I to say otherwise?”

Nie Huaisang smiled.

“We should talk more, sometime,” Wei Wuxian continued. “And hey, Nie-xiong, I don’t know if you still collect those books –”

“Oh, of course, Wei-xiong!” Nie Huaisang said enthusiastically. “Though you don’t need to ask for them from me. Lan Zhan’s built up quite a collection over the years.”

Lan Wangji sighed, even as Wei Wuxian spun to look at him with a predatory look in his eyes, not unlike a sighthound that had just fixed on its prey. “You do?”

“Nie-xiong has gifted me with many art pieces over the years,” Lan Wangji admitted. His ears felt as though they were on fire; they were undoubtedly red. “You may peruse them at your leisure.”

“At our leisure,” Wei Wuxian murmured, his eyes deeply intent. “I can’t wait to see what spring books you like best, Lan Zhan.”

Lan Wangji averted his eyes, feeling hot.

Nie Huaisang giggled and snapped his fan shut. “You don’t want to see the art I sent, Wei-xiong, trust me,” he cackled. “You want to see the pieces. Just ask!”

Wei Wuxian grinned and shook his head. “I think that’s a private discussion! Anyway, I’m going to go talk to Jiang Cheng – you two work on your Chief Cultivator stuff.”

“Your insight would be welcome,” Lan Wangji said, but Wei Wuxian waved a casual hand.

“Later, later,” he said breezily. “I don’t know either of those sects, I couldn’t possibly say anything intelligent – maybe next time you have a question. I look forward to working with you, Nie-xiong.”

“The feeling is mutual.”

Lan Wangji watched them smile at each other – still a little wary, but both clearly willing to attempt a renewal of their own friendship, even after everything – and his heart felt light.

The only thing, he reflected, that would make this perfect would be if Lan Xichen came out of seclusion.

But with Lan Wangji, Wei Wuxian, and Nie Huaisang on the job, they’d be sure to figure out a way to do that soon enough.

He was sure of it.

#mdzs #lan wangji #nie huaisang #wei wuxian #my fic #my fics #associates #associates was actually supposed to be a one shot fic but then I saw this prompt after writing the first one and felt the need to continue #and here we are #ivydragon

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toastandjamie · 3 years

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I have- so many feelings. I’ve been trying to write an analysis since last night but everything I wrote is incomprehensible so this is an attempt: advanced apologies. Originally I wanted to make a post about C!Quackity and C!Tommy’s relationship but then it got me thinking of talking about what makes Tommy so vulnerable to manipulation even incidentally which brought me to Wilbur and Techno. So I’ve decided to just make a mishmash comparing Tommy’s relationships to these three complicated people.

Starting with Quackity I think we can all agree, Quackity GETS Tommy. In a way others on the server(like Fundy or Foolish) just straight up don’t. Quackity treats Tommy a lot like he treats Slime, with this understanding that Tommy isn’t like everyone else and won’t respond to things like others would. Because Tommy in spite of everything really does act like a kid. He acts out because of boredom or frustration especially when he’s ignored. Often others get frustrated when dealing with Tommy, but Quackity has this odd level of patience different from say Sam, Puffy or even Foolish in that he puts himself at Tommy’s level. At the start I think this was just a genuine attempt at having fun with our chaos raccoon but at the moment it’s almost patronizing(a reoccurring theme). Quackity understands that pushing Tommy will only result in property damage, but he also knows that he can’t let him run around unsupervised(because property damage). When Quackity is unaware that Tommy is listening he sounds more than a little frustrated at his antics, but then Tommy throws on a pair of pants claiming to be called Trousers and insists that he is not in fact Tommyinnit. Quackity plays along, he doesn’t try and force Tommy to stop, he humors him. This is something Quackity does a lot with Tommy, and it’s why Tommy still seems to have positive feelings towards him. Quackity humors him the way adults will humor a child who’s insisting that they are a wizard. Through this lense(which I think Quackity is fully aware of) he’s able to get Tommy into a less aggressive state and get information out him. Like why he’s working with Wilbur, and Tommy’s feelings about it. Which also unfortunately makes him super easy to use. I think in the future as Quackity slowly succumbs to the inevitable power hungry corruption that’ll bury whatever soft spot he has for Tommy, we’ll see Quackity take advantage of Tommy’s blatant abandonment issues using the trust he’s built through these small appeasement based interactions.

Moving on; C!Wilbur Soot! This is a land mine let me tell you. Because Listen, Wilbur is obviously, severely traumatized and mentally ill. I don’t think Wilbur necessarily has any malicious intentions towards Tommy. But unfortunately this bad boy is backing a fuck load of unhealthy coping mechanisms and behaviors. Such as his possessive streak! We saw with L’manburg the whole “if I can’t have you no one can!” Mentality, which has now been transferred to Tommy. It’s a move to assert his control over a situation and unfortunately for Tommy he’s a prime vessel for this behavior because he has absolutely no concept of healthy boundaries! Since his backstory and relationships are a bit blurry we can’t make any definitive explanation for where this came from but for the sake of argument let’s say Tommy has known Wilbur since he was young, and Wilbur was always someone with a possessive personality(albeit less obvious due to the fact that he wasn’t traumatized yet). Being raised by or around someone who never sets boundaries with you can lead to a person growing up not able to do so themselves. And wouldn’t you know it Tommy has clearly never had a stable healthy relationship because all of them have been transactional or codependent. Which is, bad.(shout out to Tubbo and Ranboo though for trying to enforce healthy boundaries sadly though the timing of this separation couldn’t have been worse). Currently I think it’s safe to say Wilbur and Tommy have a codependent relationship. One with a very clear imbalance of power, comparable to a codependent parent-child relationship. In which Tommy excuses Wilbur’s bad behaviors out of a sense of responsibility, this feeling that because they’re “family” he owes it to Wilbur to stay by his side. Not to mention how Tommy obviously craves guidance and leadership from paternal/fraternal figures, which he originally found in Wilbur(later in Dream, Techno and Sam afterwards). Tommy very clearly desires a family structure in which he is loved and protected no matter what, and Wilbur fills that role easily and willingly. Wilbur wants someone who’ll be loyal to him and will never leave or betray him, and Tommy wants someone who’ll protect and care for and, say it with me boys, will never leave or betray him. There isn’t anything wrong with wanting someone to be there for you, but because of their complexes and traumas these feelings of fraternal affection are twisted into a relationship lacking boundaries and for Tommy, complete absence of autonomy. Only doing things because Wilbur wants him to me, because he wants Wilbur to be happy and Wilbur is never wrong. Not a good mindset to have when dealing with someone like Wilbur who is destructive as a means of coping.

Lastly another landmine, in the form of Technoblade! Ah yes, bedrock bros. We love them and miss them. But newsflash guys they ALSO had an unhealthy transactional relationship! But here’s the thing about unhealthy relationships, sometimes people are just not good for eachother. There’s no bad guy or good guy. No ones in the right or wrong. They just, weren’t good for eachother. Now whether this was situational or not can only be answered if they reconnect with healthier mindsets but for now we’ll say it’s situational. Obviously, Tommy was clearly in a bad place. Just barely managing to escape exile after a narrowly thwarted suicide attempt: now packing a whole slew of issues, from paranoia, depression, fear of abandonment, low self worth, and just general debilitating stress. Techno was ALSO in a bad place, he just hides it under a sense of self righteous justice: like guys, his only friend was put under house arrest because of him associating with him, and he was then executed under the threat of death of his faithful horse companion. Techno was angry and blinded by revenge. A bad mix when you toss in a traumatized codependent teenager desperately searching for someone to fill the empty void of fraternal leadership left by Wilbur’s death. Tommy really just wants someone to tell him what to do, like let’s not kid ourselves here. Techno offered Tommy protection from Dream, which yay! But also creates an unbalanced power dynamic(bringing that one back!). I genuinely believe that it wasn’t Techno’s intention, but the thing is, the relationship became transactional: a “I’ll protect you and take care of you if you do what I say and help me.” Type scenario. It was impossible for Tommy to really comfortably say no, at risk of being tossed out of straight up given to Dream to face whatever horrible consequences running away had. BESIDES that, they are just two very different people who had very different priorities. Techno wanted vengeance against L’manburg, Tommy wanted to be protected but always had the intention of returning to L’manburg one day(clearly believing getting the discs would be a catch all problem solver). These two priorities are in direct conflict with eachother; as a result they’re partnership would never have worked in the long term. Here’s the kicker to what makes this relationship so unhealthy though, because those things in isolation don’t make an unhealthy relationship but the fact that Tommy’s poor mental state fueled by Techno’s blood seeking revenge made him act in ways HE deemed wrong, makes it unhealthy. Tommy wasn’t lying, being with Techno made him become a person he didn’t want to be, and it’s NOT Techno’s fault. It was the unfortunate consequence of their opposing view points and unhealthy mental states. Perhaps in a world where the Butcher Army never existed the Bedrock Bro’s team up could have been a moment of healing for both characters; but alas that was not the world we are privy to in canon.

Yeah so that’s it for now I guess

#tommyinnit #dream smp #wilbur soot #technoblade #quackity #tw manipulation #tw unhealthy relationship #tw codependency

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commanderserwin · 4 years

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lucky

↦ characters: erwin smith, reader [soulmate au]

↦ request:

↦ a/n: ah yes, childhood romances! also i realized that you were looking for some fluff, and i was like: “oh, but let’s make it into soulmate!au-ish, and angsty!” i’m sorry in advance, i hope you like this still! i will make it up to you and write a cuter one, i swear!

a. a timer for when they shall first meet.

b. a timer for when the other dies.

The timer started ticking when you locked eyes with Erwin.

For a moment, it felt like it was just the two of you against everyone. His eyes felt so familiar even from afar, and you knew it was him. It was the boy whose name you would always whisper yourself to sleep because that's how silly childhood crushes were. They made your heart flutter every time they're near you, they make your hands clammy, as the words tumbled out your mouth whenever you would talk to him.

He felt the same way as you did, even as children. He would thank how destiny worked that day as you picked the last spot beside him for class. Then it continued, and he knew instantly it was you. The soulmate— it was how adults talked.

It was how the timer talked and how destiny worked its magic.

He didn't mean to look down on your wrist during that day, but when you looked down to meet his, both of you smiled widely that the muscles hurt around your mouth as you checked their time.

His timer went off when you sat beside him; and your timer went off when you sat beside him.

"Are we...?" You asked, leaning on his shoulder as the teacher discussed loudly, scribbling on the board.

"Soulmates." The boy answered, grinning as he leaned down to answer you. His blue eyes blinked as he heard himself say it, and his heart rambled as you said it faintly with him.

But what do children know? Soulmates were soulmates. It could be platonic or romantic— however people want to define it. It doesn't always have to end romantically, but it was what you wanted because what do children know?

They know the concept of love-- for parents and friends, but not for anybody at their young age. They could easily profess their love for each other but as children grew older, the concept of love becomes heavier, becomes deeper, becomes dangerous.

And love lurked everywhere that you looked, but it wasn't him.

They weren't your soulmate. No matter how hard you pushed it, and it seems silly because you already know who your soulmate is. The only problem is where your soulmate is. But the distance between you two grew wider as school comes to end, and your mother migrated you two further inside the Walls.

The distance grew wider, and it became harder to overcome it.

So when you found yourself walking through the gates as you tried to will destiny once more by going back to the school to teach, you couldn't believe your eyes that he was there on the plaza.

Looking back, he was a little child— but he is all the man that he is.

His green coat fluttered towards the wind as he met you halfway, gently pushing people away as you cleared a path to meet him. His mouth opened and closed and you tried to read his lips but it was all for naught because he said it once more when he finally was inches away from you.

"Are we...?" He asked, fiddling with his bolo that he also wore when he was younger.

"Soulmates." You finished, smiling widely as you pulled him to a hug, relishing the fact that you found him again after all these years.

His arm wrapped around yours, and you looked down to where his other arm was but he only leaned on your cheek to hug you tighter, "A titan bit my arm off."

"Oh!" You chuckled, nodding on his chest as you pulled away. His blue eyes scanned yours while you exhaled loudly, blood rushing into your veins as you looked him right at the eyes. "That's... a story. Should we... talk about it?"

"I'm afraid I'm running out of time," Erwin said, cupping your cheek as he pulled away. He tapped on his coat, and there shows the Wings of Freedom— that you finally realized what he was. "But we could talk as I go."

"Mission for the Wall?" You asked, tucking your hair away as Erwin placed a hand on the small of your back to lead the way.

He silently nodded, smiling briefly.

It was a shame that he was going away right after you have met him. But it was better than nothing, it was better than lingering on the childhood crush you have on him— and now it blossomed to one more serious. It was just a meeting, and it all felt natural as if the strings binding you two together tightened as your steps synch with each other as Erwin held you with his hand.

His silly childhood crush— his soulmate, and he's finding it hard to meet your eyes.

It was good that you haven't looked at your timer, because he knows what it'll show. It will show his time and he wasn't sure if wants to learn how much he has left. He couldn't stomach it or he knows that you couldn't too. Erwin knows your time by heart, years and years that you have and he's afraid that if you look at the one on your wrist, it'll only show a fraction of an hour.

"Don't look at my timer," Erwin stopped you in your tracks, holding you by the shoulder. His hand traveled down to your wrist and in question, you only raised a brow. "Promise me."

"Erwin?" You asked, shaking your head at him. His timer was ticking for years already so it wasn't an issue. At some point, it stopped. Then it ticked again, and after it has happened so many times, it was better to leave it alone because you know his time will come back. Always. "Okay. But you should know, you've got years left last time I checked."

"When did you check?" Erwin asked, rubbing his ticking timer on your wrist as you wrapped a hand around your own timer.

"Last night," you replied, feeling your timer tick on his skin. Erwin shakily breathed, letting his guard down before you. "Are you... okay?"

"Yes," Erwin nodded, "Have it stopped before?"

"Yes, so many times," you smiled proudly as he patted his heart, " But you always come back."

"Always?"

"Always."

You didn't realize that you have walked towards the gate already, and the whole Survey Corps has mounted their horses. Erwin looked back at them, raising a hand as you shyly whipped your head to the waiting soldiers.

"I have to..."

"Of course!" You exclaimed, sending him off as Erwin froze in his steps. You caught his hesitation but you only squeezed his shoulder as he looked down at you with a small smile. For a split second, your Erwin was scared. So far from what he showed just minutes ago. And it made you scared, but you have to push it all away or else you would think of the inevitable. "Just remember you always come back, Erwin."

"I will come back," Erwin repeated to himself, breathing deeply as he clasped his hand with yours, squeezing it tight while you offered a sincere smile at him.

It has been years since he's seen you and he wished he had the courage to walk towards you for all the years that he's missed it. He looked back at his troops, as they all watched intently as their Commander stayed frozen.

"What do you do?" Erwin hurriedly asked, turning his body towards you. His eyes scanned your face rapidly, chest panting because that's something he missed to ask. Just one more detail, he just wanted to know.

"I'm a teacher," you answered slowly. He didn't speak as he listened, his eyes asking for more as if to keep you longer with him. "I teach at the school near here. I'm about to go in, actually."

"Are they good kids?" He asked, placing his hand back on your back as he pulled you to him sideways.

"Very good kids," you nodded against his shoulder as you both watched the audience— the troops, and they didn't shy away their eyes.

"Did somebody find their soulmate during your class?"

It made you laugh.

"Unfortunately, they aren't lucky like us."

It made him laugh.

"I'll find you at the school and we could talk over dinner?"

"I'd like that, yes."

Erwin rubbed your back, as he looked ahead. He looks like he wanted to ask more, but one man finally called for him, and his time was over. Behind your back, he looked through his wrist where your time ticked on his skin. Years.

Maybe he could share those years with you.

Erwin pulled away, cupping your cheek in a farewell as he looked back once more, watching you wave widely as the other onlookers cheered for their mission. You did the same, waving your hands crazily as he mounted his horse, the rest following as they tightened their hold on their horse's reins. His voice boomed above the noise, and he looked back momentarily at you— then he was gone.

That one stare, and you carried it inside your classroom.

The children greeted widely, as they took their books out as well, flipping through the pages while you rummaged to get your coat off. The sun graced the classroom beautifully— just like how your day started off beautifully.

He always comes back.

You folded your sleeves back up, showing your wrist as you caught a glimpse of his timer. It was a promise, and it was nothing to worry about. His timer ticked years, and you finally found the reason why his always stopped and would resume. You pushed it away, reassuring yourself that his timer would still be years.

You turned your back to the class, scribbling on the board as the children read together, their small voices fleeting through the room. You read along with them, carrying your book as you wrote on the board, holding the chalk perfectly.

Then it ticked.

His timer ticked on your wrist and you broke his promise.

It felt like a punch to your gut as you watched the numbers go down.

2 minutes: the timer when the other one dies and the chalk from your fingers fell to the ground as the children read.

1 minute: and your mouth dried because it has never been this bad before. It felt too suffocating and you moved your mouth still to read along with the children.

30 seconds: you breathed heavily, nervously flipping through the pages as the timer went down.

20 seconds: No, Erwin was supposed to look for you when he comes back. It was supposed to be dinner to talk about the times you've missed— starting from the day you moved away and years that are left. Erwin was your friend, the person at the end of your destiny.

10 seconds: somebody squealed— two girls squealed as they showed the timers on their wrists go off. The timer when they shall first meet. The girls held hands as they cheered right in the middle of class.

"Soulmates!" The girls cheered.

5 seconds: "Erwin," you whispered to yourself as the children erupted into laugher.

0:00: shock came— and it glued you to the floor. The taste of blood on your tongue made you turned your back to them, as you wiped it away on your lips. You breathed shakily, feeling the tears fall down your cheeks as Erwin's timer on your wrist stopped.

The girls held hands in the middle of the class as you faced them with puffy eyes while you forced yourself to smile. You even clapped your hands together as they sang, the lesson long forgotten as they cheered all together.

"Lucky."

#lmao fluff who????? jk #erwin smith x reader #erwin smith imagine #erwin smith imagines #attack on titan imagine #erwin x reader #attack on titan imagines #aot imagines #aot imagine #snk imagines #snk imagine #shingeki no kyoujin x reader #shingeki no kyojin x reader #aot fanfiction

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spicysoftsweet · 4 years

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A Very Important Episode starring Hisoka

Or the one where Hisoka learns Bungee Gum is not a food group.

A/N: We all know that Hisoka likes candy and Bungee Gum but we would like to encourage Hisoka to make healthier choices and prevent diabetes complications. There will possibly be a part 2. I hope this is educational.

---

This time Hisoka had actually done it. He’d actually managed to fuck up his entire body beyond what he could repair with Bungee Gum or Machi’s services - which she was charging higher and higher for - and now he was somewhere almost unthinkable - an emergency room.

“Illumi~~~~” he half-sang, half-whined now that he was finally lucid, after undergoing an exploratory laparotomy to stabilize his profuse internal bleeding - the surgeons had been in awe of just how much of his body had been purely synthetic due to Texture Surprise exclaiming that he’d be an incredible case to write up - and being amped up full of pain meds. He probably didn’t need the pain meds, but it was fun to go in and out of consciousness; he couldn’t remember the last time he had an actual night of sleep.

His unwilling friend sat at the side of his hospital bed, legs crossed and focusing his jarringly large, black eyes at the fluid and blood that was being transfused into him by IV drip. A small part of him was surprised that Hisoka could be transfused with regular looking blood and regular looking fluid. He was almost sure that he was made up purely of nonsense and Bungee Gum.

“Illumi~” Hisoka moaned dramatically a second time. His gaze slid now to him, with lips pressed into a flat line of distaste.

“Don’t ever use my name as your emergency contact again.”

Illumi had to hide the fact that he was impressed Hisoka could spell clearly enough to make out the letters of his name and had actually retained his phone number. He had been surprised to get a call, but made his way over as soon as he had finished gutting an enemy and stringing them up for display as requested in his latest contract. The idea of Hisoka being dead was incredibly alarming, for he did enjoy his health and company, but also sparked a morbid curiosity in him. Could Hisoka actually die?

“But you came, didn’t you?” Hisoka teased, with a shit-eating grin.

He had him there.

There was a soft knocking on the door, and a young woman in a white coat, followed by a taller man wearing a pair of scrubs came in. The young woman glanced at Hisoka and then Illumi, visibly wincing at the hard stare of the latter in the semi-dark room, then raised her badge to introduce herself.

“H-hello, I’m Dr. Rhgyl, I-” her eyes flickered to Illumi briefly, unsettled by the fact that he hadn’t yet blinked in the past two minutes, then shifted back to Hisoka, whose devilish smile was almost more unsettling. “I was one of your surgeons and am here to answer any questions you have.”

She turned to Illumi, and gave a nervous nod of the head. “And who is in the room with you, Mr. Morow?”

“My husband,” he said, in a sickly-sweet voice. Illumi gave him a glare, then crossed his arms.

“Sure,” was all he said.

Sure, what? What is sure? Just answer the damn question... The poor young doctor’s face fell as she already knew this was something she’d have to spend unnecessary minutes during her already excessively long call night clarifying in her documentation. She turned to her nurse behind her, who gave her a small shrug.

“So uh, Mr. Morow, how is your pain?”

“It’s wonderful!”

The doctor again tried to conceal her internal screaming, and continued to keep her professional smile plastered on her face. “In that case, please let us know if you have any more pain, and your nurse will take care of it.”

“We do have one other issue, however, “ she added, making sure to communicate this next part as clearly and effectively as possible. Hisoka perked up in surprise, and Illumi continued to sit perfectly still, as still as a statue. “Your blood sugar. Your blood sugar was extremely elevated, and we were concerned about a diagnosis of prediabetes or diabetes.”

“Diabetes?”

“We expect you to make a fast recovery… surprisingly fast in fact, but we would still like you to follow up with a primary care doctor about your blood sugar. We’ll draw a lab test to check how your sugars were for the past 3 months, called a Hemoglobin A1c test, and then we’ll have your primary care doctor follow up the results and help you with strategies to have better control.”

Illumi turned to Hisoka, who he could tell that whatever the medical team was telling him was going in one ear and out the other, and he was now only thinking about either his next fight or Bungee Gum based on the elated smile on his face.

Bungee Gum.

Bungee Gum was the fucking problem.

As the doctor and the nurse finally exited out of the room and Hisoka went back to telling Illumi battle stories, Illumi started to clear his schedule in his head, to figure out when he could best drag Hisoka to his follow-up appointments, which he would have to make for him. Someone had to be the adult in this relationship.

---

Hisoka’s new primary care doctor, another similarly young woman, but less easily intimidated as the tired one from the hospital sat at a computer, pulling up his chart to review his lab results from his hospitalization.

Illumi and Hisoka noticed how she visibly paled as she scrolled, then turned to Hisoka and gave him a reassuring smile, that looked to reassure her more than them.

“What is it? Am I dead?” Hisoka asked. Illumi gave him a look to quiet down.

“Well, you’re diabetic, all right... Your A1c is 14%.”

“Is that bad?”

She swiveled in her chair to face him, hands in her lap.

“Well, diabetes is diagnosed at an A1c of 7%. So... unfortunately, yes.”

Hisoka started counting on his fingers and Illumi forcefully put his hand down.

“Hisoka, listen to the doctor. Diabetes is serious. My great-grandaunt was diabetic.” Illumi said in an even, impassive voice.

“Oh, how old was she when she was diagnosed?” The doctor asked, attempting to build rapport with the patient and the patient’s loved ones.

Without skipping a beat, he replied, “206, exactly. She loved nothing more than to unwind with Mountain Dew after her assassination missions. She ended up on dialysis.”

The doctor seemed to be at a loss of words briefly, so she turned back to Hisoka, pulling out a pen and a notepad to focus on rather than lose her cool.

“So, uh… let’s start by talking a little about what you usually eat,” she began. “What do you eat in a typical day?”

“Hm... “ Hisoka didn’t usually keep track of what he ate, so it took him some time to come up with an account. “Ah! Okay, so in the morning, I usually skip breakfast, but sometimes I’ll have some Bungee Gum.”

Odd choice, the physician thought, but she nodded and wrote that down, allowing the floor to Hisoka to speak.

“For lunch, I try not to eat too much, but I also have a couple pieces or ten of Bungee Gum.”

Hm…

“Oh and for dinner, I have a bowl of gummy candy if I’m feeling particularly peckish and also Bungee Gum.”

She looked up from her pad and paper to see Hisoka looking blissfully unaware that he had just revealed that he subsists solely on sweets. She suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to pull at her hair repeatedly. This would be a ton of education, and she still wasn’t exactly sure what exactly Bungee Gum was.

---

Illumi parked his custom Ferrari minivan, purchased entirely for this shopping trip, outside the Costco Wholesale, and gave Hisoka, a long, hard look.

“Do you have the list?” Illumi asked, hand outstretched as Hisoka handed over a partially crumpled sheet of paper, outlining the basics of a balanced, carbohydrate-controlled diet for people with diabetes.

Hisoka looked outside to the large building, then looked back at Illumi. “Isn’t this for families? I thought we were shopping for me only, and sometimes you when you come over.”

“I don’t know, the butlers told me that they come here to stock the kitchens. It seems from the website that this store provides high quality bulk goods for very competitive prices so this will be an appropriate next stop.”

This was just one out of countless stops today - Hisoka had spent the earlier part of the day searching frantically for sugar-free Bungee Gum in every supermarket in a 25-mile radius unsuccessfully, and demanding to see the manager every time, only to kill them when they told him they didn’t have his particular brand. Illumi warned him that there would be no such shenanigans any longer.

They stepped out of the car and walked right past the door greeter who was waiting eagerly for them to present their membership card only to recoil once they both turned to look at him in unison with intent to kill.

The first things Hisoka noticed as he walked in were the multiple little free sample kiosks at the aisles every so often and curiously wandered over to them.

“Make sure to avoid anything glazed or with a sauce,” Illumi called after him, poring through the list as he wandered over to the produce aisle. He didn’t understand the draw of free samples; if he wanted to try something, he would simply buy it.

Hisoka made his way to Illumi and Illumi’s overfilled grocery cart about a half-hour later after wandering the entire store, arms filled with small paper cups and tasting spoons. It was clear that he had sampled literally everything, possibly twice or thrice. Illumi let out a sigh and moved to the front of the store to check out.

Keeping Hisoka’s blood sugar low would be a daunting task, but he was determined that by the next visit to his PCP, he’d have some improvement in his A1c. Texture Surprise can only replace so many amputated limbs at once. He’d just have to buy every supermarket’s supply of Bungee Gum and possibly halt every single production chain devoted to it or something similar. A pain, but it was worth it. Hisoka was annoying as all hell, but still, he was worth it.

#hisoillu #hisoka #illumi #bungee gum #hunter x hunter #serious business #serious writing #crack fic?#remember to eat a balanced diet

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khangowrites · 3 years

Text

Is it a Complaint Essay or is the Workplace Unsuitable?

Ah, what am I writing today? Oh, well I suppose it’s almost 12am. Seems like a good a time as any. I wanted to just jot down a few re-occurring experiences I’ve had in the workplace and sometimes in other social spaces, and attempt to analyze them.

CW: mild mentions of abuse and bodily ailments.

A bit of forward: I tend to mask myself heavily whenever I am in any social situation; whether it be at work, at home, with friends or online (although I’m getting better at being myself on Discord at least. I owe a lot to my friends who accept me and whom I care so much about.) What this means is I often plan out what I’m needed to say in advance of a situation. I have an arsenal of about 5 minutes of small talk before I tank and several small greetings/placations I can cycle through on any given day if I’m not overloaded. I also limit my natural inclination to movement.

It’s called unprofessional/unsightly to sit with your legs folded under you, or to sway and shake your arms and legs back and forth in time to music in your head. But it’s okay if you tap your pencil. Everyone does that.

I have to wonder how noticeable my ‘masked’ self is. How real or fake it appears.

There have been a few trends I’ve seen with the way people treat me as an employee in the time I’ve been in the workforce. For clarity, I am a 23 year old 5’1” AFAB person with a face that looks like it stopped aging when I was 12. I’m non-binary, but I’ve seen that many have a hard time using a different pronoun for me because I look ‘so feminine’. I had one old man repeatedly tell me that my body was too pretty and that I shouldn’t hide it and ‘pretend’ to be something else. I was and still am quite unsettled and disgusted by that comment.

I haven’t used my full preferred pronouns at work simply based in fear of being fired or discriminated against further. Same thing at home- I haven’t told all my family out of fear. I may look back on this at some future date where I fully respect myself and I’m confident. I look forward to that day.

Oh, and I’m autistic.

Perhaps it is one of these things or all of them that cause people to treat me certain ways. I’d like to find out.

I worked outdoors at an Orchard for a season. They called me Cinderella because of the way I looked when I cleaned. They gave employees gloves and heaters. Only not me. When I asked, I was given a broken one and told to fix it. A coworker who had intellectual disabilities and poor eyesight was not offered a heater at all. I did not renew for the next season. Kim and I stayed in touch though.

I worked next at a gift shop at a historical site. I loved the history and the old buildings, but the cashier work was admittedly difficult. Most of the employees were kind, retired old ladies who treated me gently, like a child. Sometimes too much like a child. The assistant manager seemed wary of me, and she often avoided me. I don’t know why. I’m not good with eye contact, and I always fear that people will mistake my zoning out as being creepy or disrespectful; maybe it was that. She never brought her kids with her on days I worked.

The head manager was courteous, but always called me Special. We had an older man work in the last 2 years I was there who had a strong inclination to associate with the children at the shop, and in turn, me as well. He would always want a hug or pat me on the back, but ignored the other workers. I told the managers my uncomfortable feelings about him, but it went mostly unnoticed.

When it was found that I was decent with computers, I was tasked with entering jewelry into the system and creating labels with number associations. I enjoyed it, and they promised me a decent raise. My pay was raised a dollar several weeks later, and I found myself being tasked with more and more computer work, to the point of becoming an office manager myself, earning a grand total of 9 dollars an hour while my counterpart who started a year earlier owned a home on the same work.

I left that job after 4 years to be the music director at a local church. I love music and was excited. Maybe too excited. I developed acid re-flux and was hospitalized the week before my start day due to a panic attack. I realize now it was from stress. I also had an ovarian cyst removed a year later- it took up my entire pelvis and its formation was also attributed to stress. I’ve since been diagnosed with generalized anxiety, and I continue to have ever changing digestive issues, muscle problems and panic attacks.

After realizing I was autistic and also non-binary, so much of the stress of life started to make sense. The past few months I have been making life changes, and working towards finding a workplace that is accommodating and safe for me. My stress has lessened.

I worked at the church for 2 years. My last day is actually at the end of this month. As is the trend, I was not treated with respect when it came to my job. My pastor started choosing the hymns over me, and would make comments about me during services. His favorite was to say that my music made him fall asleep, and wait for laughter from the congregation. He had no musical knowledge, and forced me to play every song as fast as I possibly could. He didn’t believe I could do my job. Any attempts at mutual work failed to manifest. I unfortunately was groomed by a member of the hiring committee there as well, a type of abuse I didn’t even realize I had fallen into until several months after it was too late.

I currently work at a high school as a choir accompanist. I use she/they pronouns there, but no one uses they and I’m too worried to be fully they like I am outside of work. I am wary of soiling my relationship with the director further. She’s quite religious in the ‘gays don’t have rights’ way, so I have my fears.

The director is kind, but sees me as this innocent child that happens to have natural piano abilities, and the mutual respect that I’ve come to dream of just isn’t there again.

The director has the key to the doors and lets students in without fail, but conveniently forgets to let me in almost every day. At one time, I was in physical therapy and had a hard time standing and walking for any period of time. I almost went home because she didn’t answer any communication, class started 20 minutes previously, and it was 90 degrees outside and I needed to sit down because my legs were cramping. She plans the music weeks in advance, but doesn’t give them to me until the day the students get it, despite my repeated asking for time to prepare.

One day I was on zoom and she and the student teacher greeted me and then ignored my presence and played the piano herself for class. She struggled with the parts and commented to the choir that, “wow, Ms. Khango is actually pretty dang good at this- that little girl can play!”, but didn’t listen to me when I offered to play. I left the zoom after an hour.

The online students seemed to share my surprise at least, and I am grateful to them. They kept me grounded and reminded me that I matter and should have the same respect as everyone else in the room, zoom or not. They talk to me about not being heard and their chats not being read during class. It bothered me, too. The next week I brought it up to her in the form of making sure the zoom students were heard and she quickly dismissed it, like it was a puff of smoke. The students online now ask me questions directly and I relay them. It’s met with annoyance by the director.

They have voices too.

One of the scariest moments of my life was last week- I wore my ‘disability rights are human rights’ shirt to school. (Okay, maybe not scary to some, but it very much was for me.) After class, one of the students came to me and asked if I could help him find a way for his grandfather to get a seat at the concert, as he was disabled and he didn’t know how to proceed.

It filled me with joy to help him, and it filled me with rage when the teachers asked if his grandpa could just get out of the wheelchair instead.

My overall conclusion to all of these things is that people simply don’t understand, or don’t want to because it makes their lives harder.

Is discrimination and ignorance really easier than respecting people?

I’m not sure if this is all just one big complaint essay. I guess it is. What I needed to do was write it all out. All the things that make me uneasy or feel like lesser of a person. And I wanted to know why.

I note that at every job I am perceived as a child, or as someone naïve. I am not treated the same as another adult employee. I was ostracized for my way of moving and talking. Taken advantage of. My needs were not accommodated.

Even now, I feel guilt for writing this, like I’m just playing the victim for attention or something.

I want to be strong enough to stand up to it and ask to be treated with respect and have it follow through.

I want to unmask myself more and let myself move and talk naturally, and use my real pronouns.

My respect for myself and for others must become a powerful force.

My friends on discord- my real, genuine friends, have become monumental in my life. Most of my life I did not have true friends. Without them and their unconditional love and support, I would not be where I am right now. We are all equals. I want to embody that strong respect and bring it to others.

It’s getting late. 1 a.m. now. Well, I have tomorrow. Plenty of time for Star Trek.

#workplace problems #actuallyautistic #essay #nonbinary #figuring out life

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pinkysfaultorbrainsfault · 4 years

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animaniacs - s4e8: mindy in wonderland

episode summary: a lighthearted episode about mindy chasing a rabbit down a hole in the tree she’s always tied to, and ending up in a magical, literary dreamland. there’s no mice, but it’s fun, and takes up the whole runtime, and-- what? no, i-- look, it’s just-- i don’t--

sir, you don’t pay me at all--

alright fine ugh ughghghguhgughgu ugh.

great.

episode summary: the hip hippos are expecting a baby! unfortunately, ordering babies off the internet instead of concieving them through, like, hippo sex? appears to have its’ downsides, and instead they are presented with.... brain.

look, i don’t know either, okay? i’m dragging my hands down my face as we speak.

the rundown:

we open with the stork.

“i got a very special delivery! the rockefellers have been waiting weeks for this one.” he pronounces it “spatial”, probably because he’s high out of his mind. this is not a sober bird. please don’t drop that baby, my dude. that’s going to cause more problems than it solves, really.

spoke too soon, i guess.

unfortunately for him, our dude does exactly that, and ends up taking a bit of a tumble. gets all dizzy. this does not bode well for the plot. or the wellbeing of the baby, actually!

hold up. computer, zoom, enhance.

hmmm. that is a very familiar tiny face. troubling. anyway our resident avian expert on drugs seems to have survived his accident, and drops the baby off to the rockefellers with no further trouble.

they seem to look more. hippo shaped than usual.

“congratulations! you’re new parents!”

you’re welcome, weird stoner bird. they slam the door on him, wordlessly exacerbating his injuries. they care not for his plight, only that of their dearest, darling... not very.... hippo sized...................... baby.

hm.

“oh flavio! darling! a baby of our own, just look at him! let us call him--”

“--alfredo!”

“goo.”

alright. as existentially horrifying as this episode is, i laughed. maurice lemarche, completely dead in the face, sits in the recording booth, stretches his shoulders. “goo.” he says. deadpan. no intonation whatsoever. the audience cheers and he is given a thousand dollars.

i don’t know what it is about brain saying basically anything that appeals to my sense of humour so much. jockey for position basically did me in. i just. every time he says “goo.” i am in TEARS.

the hippos seem to have lost their enthusiasm, as anyone would have if they heard the voice of a grown man come out of their newborn baby.

“he’s... small. very small.”

“goo.”

still, marita sympathises with him. this is very definitely her child, after all! she steals him away to do mom things with, chastising flavio that ‘alfredo’ is “their little boy.”

“oh, you are right, my lightbulb of love. now our little universe has expanded to three.”

yeah, don’t include your.... shoulder... birds, then. asshole.

it’s very cute, i’ll say that. for all the fuss i make about the hippos, they do love each other, in a very healthy way that you don’t often see with married couples on tv. like, they’re kind of slowdancing their way out of the room. it’s nice! they would make good parents.

(”goo.” says brain, in the background, oblivious to the heterosexuality happening around him. “now, take me to my money.”)

credit to flavio and marita; they are very well prepared. this is a very loved baby. i’m not entirely sure how any child would feel about the presence of Clown Bear, but it’s the thought that counts. also i know that’s a changing table? but the design is sick and i wouldn’t mind a chest of drawers like that.

there’s also a theatre, i guess. or..... maybe just a really fancy shower???

Definitely Alfredo is gently placed on his little Alfredo Table. he appears to be asleep, or at least he’s deliberately choosing to keep his eyes closed. can’t think why.

but he, ah. sure went all out for this one. i respect brain for his dedication to the craft.

“now, sweet baby alfredo,” says marita, while the music does a terrifying swell in the background, for some reason, “it is time for your first bath.”

please stop looking at me like that, marita. YOU ARE NOT IMMUNE TO BATHING. am i about to be inducted into the alfredo cult?? i am, admittedly, a manlet, but i would like to think i am also unmistakably larger than a baby hippo.

(google has no data about the height of a baby hippo, apparently. they do weigh about 100lbs at birth, though, so i guess i have to be careful with this losing weight shtick. not that i’m ever gonna weigh 100lbs, quite frankly, but the minute i do marita’s gonna climb through my window and steal me off to los angeles.)

(i’m terrified.) (on the other hand, they’re definitely going to give me back as soon as they work out how much my medication costs over there.)

i’m literally babbling nonsense, at this point. anyway. brain gets a bath.

remember to Wosh U Mouse. wash he teeth and soul. marita proclaims excitedly that “babies love the bath”, and Definitely Alfredo is Definitely Enjoying Himself, judging by the screaming, so, yknow, good for him.

and then, i guess, flavio just pours boiling water on him for no reason, so brain freaks out and launches himself into the light fitting.

because wouldn’t anybody?

the hippos freak out a bit when the lights stop working, but soon get brain back down to resume their usual Alfredo Activities.

“this is highly undignified.”

but still, marita loves him.

and then she stabs him in the dick, i guess.

“GAH.”

“oops ):”

fortunately, nobody ever died of getting stabbed in the dick (as far as i know?) but even magical babies delivered by amazon need to get their vitals checked, so flavita take him to the hospital anyway.

bomf.

i’ll be dead honest with you, this scene is just torture porn. i’ll summarise it as best i can.

temperature is fine. blood pressure is normal. i am pretty sure inflating babies is not standard medical practice, but brain is cosmically unable to have a good day or he dies, i guess.

the doctor shows up.

“oh, but you’re a cutie. say aaaah.”

“if you think that you’re going to stick that thing in my--”

it’s not very comfortable.

“hmm. rather puny.”

“you have to feed him more.”

NOW LET’S TEST YOUR REFLEXES

i’m pretty sure this man has never been to medical school.

“and now to vaccinate. my, that’s a lot of zeros.”

my, that’s a... screenshot that lives on my laptop now, i guess. hopefully nobody i know ever has to borrow this thing, for whatever reason.

“i’ll see you in three months for a booster shot,” says dr acme, as brain swells and changes colours in a way that no baby ever should.

i feel like this is a good time to interject - my issue with this episode is not the core themes, or anything surrounding them. it’s the amount of unrestrained suffering that goes on within that. like. okay. if this was some kind of consensual dynamic between the three of them for-- whatever reason???? stress?????? - like i wouldn’t mind. i wouldn’t care. consenting adults can do whatever they want with their bodies. this is a positive space. no judgement here on pinkys fault or brains fault dot com.

but it’s not and brain spends most of the episode in pain and terrified and that’s really what i object to above all else. it’s the same problem i have with peatb, really. brain can wear as many cute dresses as he wants, but he’s gotta want to wear them.

but they’re back at the Hippo Digs now so. it’s fine, i guess.

“such a good boy. that trip to the doctor wasn’t so bad, was it?”

hm.

still, it appears i can never escape Terrifying News Lady, even in this hellscape. flavio does the classic dad thing of sitting down with the tv as soon as he’s home, leaving marita to deal with getting Definitely Alfredo settled in his correctly-sized-for-a-baby-hippo baby chair.

what are those straps connected to, anyway??? it’s not the chair, that’s for sure. is brain just wearing a harness for the hell of it? what on earth is going on?

but flavio! it’s time to feed the baby!

“is baby-waby hungry-wungry?” well are you, cranky big head mousie??? huh????

sorry for the paralysing fear that probably caused all of you. undeterred, the terrifying news lady continues to talk in the background about the “richest and most influential child in the world.”

oh no.

flavio vaguely wonders if they waited too long to feed their baby, as he has what could be possibly classified as a tantrum.

“you sophomoric, corpulent, pachycerebal aristrocrats! you are imposters and i demand to be taken to the rockefellers immediately!”

the birds don’t care. they’re chilling. marita attributes this to “baby gibberish” while flavio wonders about the “vocabulary he learnt from mr rogers”. he’s maybe a few hours old, at this point, a day tops, but i guess hippos learn latin in pre-k or something.

anyway so then they stick a tube down his throat and inflate him with guacamole.

and with that, “alfredo looks healthier already!”

this is the second time brain has been inflated in this episode. it is unsurprising that he dedicates his nights from this point to raising absolute hell.

but he needs pats first because he ate too much. :<

cut to that night, i guess! where brain is very convincingly crying. very loudly. the hippos look unimpressed, despite the fact that this is literally the most common factor of signing up for a baby.

“it’s the baby. you take care of him.”

well. alright.

air mouse. nyoom. he seems to catapult himself at something, like, once per episode. it’s on par with the closeups by now, surely.

bomp.

unfortunately, the bear is not weightbearing (bear ing. lol) and falls off the shelf on an epic quest for a Great Big Hug.

the resulting bomp alerts the hippos, who go fully, entirely haywire the moment they work out that Definitely Alfredo is not in his correctly-sized-for-a-baby-hippo baby bed.

turns out flavio sat on him.

“really, flavio, be more careful where you sit.”

so they put a padlock on his crib.

this is completely useless. i know this. brain knows this. he’s small enough to just... fit through the bars. but he decides to be dramatic, instead, because that’s what he does best.

“attica! attica! i want out! let me out!”

i am not old enough to get this reference.

i am, however, old enough to empathise with this exact emotion. i feel kind of bad for the hippos, actually. i’m sure they were doing what they thought was... right? in the context of... thinking they had a baby hippo rather than an adult mouse. easy mistake to make. i go check on my weirdly tiny hippos in their hippo cage all the time.

but who could be at the door?

“there seems to have been a mix up. uh. i have your baby right here.”

and guys?

i need to tell you how fast they just throw brain at the guy. it’s actually a little heartbreaking.

but! it’s okay! he still has time to make it to the rockefellers before they......... die. i guess.

man, this plan was not thought out very well.

conclusion:

thank god this is almost over.

the stork repackages the baby, who is now a good few hours old, at least, and delivers the bundle to the very, very different looking house.

they are not any nicer.

“oh, reggie. just look at him.”

“goo.”

“well, frau haussenheffer, we’re off on a cruise. goodbye baby. see you in a year.”

parenting!

“alright then. staff, we have a brand new charge.”

oh dear.

brain, as one can imagine, is having none of this.

but unfortunately, neither is the carpet.

bomp. cause of death: suffocating in the rockefeller mansion carpet.

good thing it all sort of blurs out, huh.

“brain?” AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA “brain.” AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA “brain, wake up.”

“i was dreaming?”

oh, thank god for that.

“oh, pinky, you wouldn’t believe the nightmare i had.” and it’s... probably best not to tell him, actually.

“it must have been a doozy, brain! but, oh, a delivery came for you.”

“it’s the rockefeller baby. can we keep it?”

oh dear.

so let’s ignore the fact that this asks more questions than it answers-- but okay, was that a dream within a dream, and why was brain dreaming about that in the first place, and-- and mark this one down as a severe case of outside influence.

brain: 3 ½ pinky: 5 ½ outside influence: 10

“it’s not too late. i demand that you deliver me to the rockefellers immediately!”

“

“aw, how cute. i just love baby gibberish.”

#patb #a!#pinky and the brain #animaniacs #i'm almost done with a! now!#only one more short to go #more importantly #i'm done with this short specifically. so i never have to watch it again

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a-solitary-marshmallow · 4 years

Text

Please Don’t See Me - Chapter 5

This chapter is a bit longer than the others, but I didn't want to split it up! It was written in a hurry because I was excited to get it out to y'all, so let me know if I've made any typos or mistakes. As always I adore your comments so feel free to tell me what you think.

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“You should come down to Gravity Falls!”

Ford didn’t quite think about the words before he blurted them. His close (and only) friend from college had mentioned in their weekly phone call that he and his family were thinking about taking a holiday from his would-be small computer business, and Ford had reacted without thought.

He laughed nervously, leaning back against the kitchen counter. Rebus padded through the kitchen with the click-click-click of claws that Ford had become accustomed to over the last month.

Ford cleared his throat. “If you want to, of course. I would love to show you some of the research on anomalies I’ve been doing, and I think Tate and Emma-May would like it here. I have plenty of space in my house.”

“Well sure Stanford, if you don’t mind.” Fiddleford said cheerfully. “I’ve been meanin’ to visit for a while now. Course, I don’t wanna get in the way o’ yer research if you’re busy.”

“Not at all.” From the other room Rebus let out a bark, and Fiddleford squeaked.

“What was that?”

“Oh, just my dog. There are probably some Manotaurs passing by.”

“Ya have a dog? When did that happen?”

“A month or so ago. His name is Rebus.”

Fiddleford huffed out a laugh. “Well, at least ya got yerself some company. That dog sounded mighty fearsome; ya sure he’s safe? I don’t wanna bring Tate around if e’s gonna bite.”

“Oh, Rebus is a sweetheart.” A savage growl issued from the other room. “He’s great with kids. When he accompanies me into town he will often play with the children in the playground.”

Rebus growled again, a growl Ford was reasonably certain was aimed at him for daring to imply that the wolf had a heart. Not that Ford had been lying – the kids in town loved Rebus and he delighted in running around with them while Ford ran errands. He was a veritable gentle giant.

“Tate would love him.” Ford continued, unconcerned with the wannabe threat display. The stubborn wolf reminded him of his brother sometimes, all bark and no bite.

…except when he did bite.

“If yer sure.” There was rustling on the other end of the line. “That sounds like a mighty fine idea, Stanford. I’ll have to check with Emma-May, of course, but I’d love ta see some of these anomalies you’ve told me about. Check that yer not crazy, at least!”

“I assure you, these things are one hundred percent real. You’ll be able to see for yourself.” Ford assured him.

“Does Friday afternoon work fer ya? We figured we’d go on the weekend so Tate doesn’t miss much school.”

“Yes, that’s fine. I’ll prepare the spare room.” Ford said excitedly. “It’s been quite some time since I had company.”

“Ah – Stanford?”

“Yes?”

“Exactly how long has it been since you talked to someone?”

“A few hours.”

“Other than yer dog I mean.”

“Oh, only a week or so.”

There was a pause. “Was that ‘someone’ me?”

“Er…”

“When was the last time you talked to a human being aside from myself?”

Ford laughed nervously. “Ah, it seems the connection is breaking up I’ll call back another time-”

“Stanford-”

“Say hello to Emma-May for me bye!”

He hung up.

Stan heard the car approach first, the approaching rumble of its engine dragging him from a light doze in that ever-illusive pool of light in the hallway. His ears picked up and he let out the beginnings of a warning growl at the intruders.

That was, until he remembered that they were supposed to have visitors. He yawned and stretched, slightly annoyed at having his nap interrupted but more curious to see who it was that Ford had been expecting. Being the local canine, people didn’t usually run names and stuff by him.

All Stan had been able to tell was that whoever was coming Ford was pretty excited to see them, judging by the way he had hustled and bustled to prepare the spare room. It had been pretty nice, these past few days, to just chill and watch Ford buzz around the place. In those years apart he’d missed Ford’s relentless energy; the way he bounced on his heels when excited, and the little flapping, and the excited gleam in his eyes, the way he could never quite hold still. It was pretty hilarious to watch the nerd get all wound up.

God, Stan hoped it wasn’t a family member. If Pa walked through that door…

Maybe it was that guy Ford was always calling, Fiddlesticks or something? Seemed likely. From what Stan could tell, his brother had a maximum of two friends. And one of them was a wolf.

He padded out to watch Ford open the door for… a small family? The man shook Ford’s hand while the woman chatted and held a small child on her hip.

“It’s great to see you again, Stanford. Thank you for letting us stay in your home.”

“Oh, it’s no problem, I have plenty of space.” Ford assured her.

“And Fiddleford said you had a – oh sweet Mother Mary-”

Stan was used to the usual ‘Oh my god is that a wolf?’ song and dance. He stepped forward and wagged his tail helpfully. Scaring kids and dames was only funny when you were trying to scare them. When you weren’t, it got old pretty quick.

The strange man leaned down and hesitantly offered one hand, and Stan allowed himself to be petted. Show of goodwill, and all that. The guy was short and twiggy and he smelled of engine grease and metal and root beer and straw. Stan decided that he liked the guy. The lady, too. Her suspicious gaze had mellowed out and now Stan could see the smile lines around her eyes. The kid, however, seemed… sticky.

Aaaand the kid had fussed to be placed down and was now trying to touch Stan’s tail. He whisked it out of reach but the sticky brat was laughing and already chasing after it.

Oh, hell no. Kid wanted to get its grubby mitts all over his coat? Think again. Stan darted out of its way and weaved past the adults to try and throw it off. Ford didn’t even try to help, the smug bastard.

Alright kid. You think you got stamina? Let’s see about that.

The kid.

Would not.

Stop.

Tate, as it turned out his name was, seemed to have boundless energy. The two kept up their game of cat-and-mouse all afternoon until Stan flopped on the porch, panting for breath. Tate squealed and rushed forward to bury his hands in Stan’s thick fur.

You win this round, pipsqueak.

A part of him wanted to place the kid on a high shelf where he couldn’t get in the way, and leave him there. Another part of him… wanted to lick his face and wag his tail. C’mon, mighty hunter and all that! Stan was supposed to have more dignity than like… a Labrador or whatever.

His traitor tail wagged anyway.

Ford and the dame, Emma-May or something, stepped outside to join them, Ford glancing over his shoulder and biting his lip as he went. Stan wondered idly where his nerd friend was.

“Oh, don’t worry, Fiddles hardly ever electrocutes himself!” Emma-May said cheerfully. “He’ll be done with his tinkering in no time.”

“…I was worried for my toaster.”

Emma-May flapped her hand. “Oh, it’ll be fine. I think he said something about making it like ours.”

“How has Fiddleford improved your toaster?”

“I dunno, but it has a lot of blinky lights and sometimes it smells like burning sugar!”

“…I feel like you’re trying to be reassuring?”

Stan should probably be on the lookout for smoke. He scented the air and got a whiff of something like burning plastic from inside…

…and curdled wrongness.

He wrinkled his nose. The air smelled weird and it was vaguely familiar, like he’d smelled it before, but never this strongly. There was something oily and metallic and… squirrelly?

Stan shook Tate’s clingy hands from his coat and stood to scan the house yard. Nothing looked out of the ordinary. But it just didn’t smell right.

The faintest scrape of claws on wood made him snap around. There – clinging to a house support and evidently trying to climb up to the roof was what might have once been a squirrel. Emphasis on once. Its front limbs were bulkier than the back ones with claws like tiny steak knives buried into the wood grain. Its fur hung off in patches and it was big – more raccoon-sized than squirrel-sized. The extra weight seemed to be giving it grief because it was struggling to make headway.

Fat bastard, Stan thought petulantly.

“Err – Stanford?” Emma-May piped up. “What on god’s good earth is that?”

Stan glanced across to follow her pointing finger. Apparently he wasn’t the only one to notice the thing.

Ford squinted and stepped closer to the rodent, which started hissing around overgrown teeth like a stepped-on snake with a lisp. “It… it appears to be another mutated creature. I’ve been finding them around the place since I got here. My hypothesis is that they’ve been somehow affected by the size-changing crystals in the forest.”

“The what-nows?”

Ford’s eyes brightened. “Oh, in the forest there are natural crystal formations that, when light is shined through them, have the ability to change an object or organism’s shape. The majority of the mutant sightings have been around that area. I’ve been meaning to investigate but a freak blizzard recently ruined my plans. Now, if I can just capture this specimen here…”

“Throw a blanket over it?” Emma-May suggested.

“Perhaps. I have a number of size-appropriate cages in my shed, would you mind keeping watch over the creature while I retrieve one?”

“Sure thing.”

Ford went to walk past but the movement seemed to startle the squirrel, which launched itself wildly into the air and latched onto Ford’s sleeve, scurrying up his arm. He yelped and flailed. Fortunately Emma-May smacked it and sent it flying. Unfortunately it skidded across the ground and took off towards where Tate was playing in the grass.

Fortunately, that was also where Stan was.

He lunged forward and snapped up the rodent in one bite before it could get close to the kid. Its tiny body gave out with a single, pathetic crunch. Weird-tasting blood exploded in his mouth.

Ford coughed. “Well.”

Stan spat out the creature, wrinkling his nose. The thing tasted – wrong. Like its blood was tainted with seawater and oil slick with an added hint of burning rubber. He spluttered and swiped at his tongue to try and get rid of the rancid flavour.

Ugh, were squirrels so corrupted by the weight of their sins that it seeped into their blood?

“Is it dead?” Ford asked curiously. Emma-May walked over to scoop up her child and prod the body with her shoe.

“Depends. Can these mutant things live with a snapped spine?”

“Dead, then. Still! It’s a specimen to study. I’ll get – oh, I suppose I won’t be needing that cage anymore.”

Nothing blew up that weekend. Stan took that as a win.

The McGuckets were… a different sort of folk than he was used to. They smiled so easily. Those two dopes of parents looked at their kid like he was the moon and the sun and everything in between, like they wouldn’t kick him out onto the streets no matter what dumb mistakes he made. Damn. Imagine that.

The Sunday night before they were set to leave Emma-May retired to bed early and Fiddleford and Ford settled onto the couch to talk, with cans of beer in hand and Tate playing happily with his Legos. Stan dropped onto the carpet to keep a watchful eye on the little brat. The fire crackled softly and cast a warm light across the room, its heat pressing against his fur.

A month or so ago he would never have let himself relax like this. He would be watching the window, ears pricked for any sign of…

Huh. He couldn’t remember the name of the man chasing him. When he thought hard there was a flash of scarred hands and packets of white powder and the taste of blood in his mouth. That’s right, the guy Stan had used to run drugs for a few years back, the guy who was now after him. Why couldn’t Stan remember his name?

Ford and Fiddleford’s murmuring rose slightly above the crackle of the fire and the clinking of Legos.

“-ya mean Shermie?”

“No, my… other brother. My twin, Stanley.” Ford said quietly.

It took Stan a moment to remember that that was his name. He rested his chin on his paws and tuned into the conversation.

“Ford, ya never told me ya had a twin.”

“No, I probably didn’t. You see, Stanley and I parted on… unpleasant terms. I haven’t seen him in almost a decade.”

“A decade?” Fiddleford squawked. “Why in the blazes not?”

“It’s complicated. Fiddleford, do you remember when I told you how I was rejected from West Coast Tech?”

“When you were drunk outta yer mind and I had to drag ya back to our dorm? Yes, I do recall.” Fiddleford said dryly.

“Yes, well. It was Stanley who sabotaged my project. He insisted it was an accident, but…” Ford sighed.

“Why do you bring him up?” Fiddleford tipped his head. Ford sighed and pulled off his glasses to polish them on his sleeve.

“I was hoping to get your advice, actually. Recently he’s been coming to mind more and more. I thought that, perhaps, he might have grown up over the last decade, and it might be worth getting in contact and seeing how he’s doing. Do… do you think people can change that much?”

Change. Had Stan changed much? Except for the whole werewolf thing…

It was like trying to think through sludge. Stan hardly remembered what it was like to be human. Or… human-shaped. Jeez, how long had he been Shifted for? Time was slipping away from him in this little bubble of happiness. Stan had never been in wolf form for this long before.

A chill shivered through him. The nerds’ talking continued but it was background noise to the humming of his thoughts. He stood and padded into the hallway, ignoring Tate’s whine. Stan shouldered through the (thankfully unlocked) front door and trotted outside.

He glanced around warily before slipping into the trees. Once a quick scan showed that he was alone, he Shifted.

Or… tried to.

The change that had once been liquid and effortless now felt like trying to shove a square peg through a circular hole. His skin prickled. Stan shook himself and tried again with a small growl.

The Shift swept across him with the popping of joints and the crackle of cartilage; creaky, like a neglected machine that had acquired rust from years of disuse. Stan gritted his newly-flat teeth and waited for the agonizingly slow Shift to pass.

He ended up crouched on the damp earth, breathing hard and squinting through suddenly blurry vision at the dark, hazy world around him. His skin felt itchy and it pinched in all the wrong places, like a suit that didn’t quite fit.

Well, shit. Note to self: don’t stay in wolf form for weeks at a time.

Stan flexed his hands, trying to reacquaint himself with having fingers and opposable thumbs. Being human. Or human-shaped, at least.

Because he was still a person. No matter what he looked like he wasn’t just some – some pet. He had a life to get back to.

Except… he didn’t. Not really.

Stan chewed over that piece of information for moment. Before he could really think about it a voice called his name. With a final stretch he slipped back into an awkward Shift, easier than before, and trotted after his brother’s voice.

#werewolf stan au #werewolf!stan #my writing #gravity falls #chapter 5

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mychemicalficrecs · 4 years

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frerard aus where one or both of them are parents or highschool frerard aus with bullying?

Hi Nonny!

I've made a list for you where Frank and/or Gerard are parents.Check back for your other request in a day or two!

Frank And/Or Gerard Are Parents

F is for Frank by silver_etoile, 23k, Mature. Frank can't even cook mac and cheese. How can he possibly live up to being a father? Maybe the new preschool teacher can help.

How did I survive without you? by Frnk, 9k, Not Rated. Frank thought he knew everything, he had a job and an apartment, he was studying in school and working his ass off to pass his English exams. Then his entire world got turned upside down by a little boy left on his door step.

i will do my best to be... by picht, 4k [WIP], Teen And Up Audiences. It’s Friday evening, 6 PM, and Frank is fucking nervous. Griffon’s first meeting with this new troop begins in fifteen minutes, and they’ve been sitting in the church parking lot for the past five. There’s a lot of things that could go wrong here, is the thing. Hopefully, Frank thinks, third time’s the charm.

Sometimes the world gets so damn lonely, ya'know? by Frnk, 7k, Not Rated. "Like sometimes its not about getting drunk or talking or whatever. Sometimes you only need someones company to feel less alone in the world."

Wicked Little Town. by xofunghoul, 26k [WIP], General Audiences. In a small town in New Jersey where nothing much happens, Gerard Way runs his family's diner with his best firend Ray and he thinks his life is going nowhere special and is fine with it until Frank Iero, a young single dad of twin babies moves into town and shakes things up a little with his witts and big green eyes.

Ice Creams and Bloody Knees by charmlesstrans, 3k, General Audiences. "Good morning, girls! Time to get up!" Frank knocked and cheerily called into Lily and Cherry's room bright and early at 8 AM. "Noooo," protested Lily from behind the door. "Too tired.." Cherry explained with a sleep-muffled voice.

Four Killjoys and a Baby by forgoo, 19k [WIP], Teen And Up Audiences. "We are not keeping a baby!" "How hard can it be?" The story of how four teenage outlaws became the guardians of a tiny helpless baby and then raised that baby to be the tiniest Killjoy, messiah of the Zones.

Can we keep it? by NatMadness, 1k, Teen And Up Audiences. Chris always came home with a different animal in his hands. Gerard always said no, they already had three dogs and they were a lot of work, but the kid kept bringing them with him every day after school. Of course, he was a 6 year old little boy with a deep pasion for animals and Gerard loved that, because it reminded him so much of Frank.

Taste by A_A_Dolan, 11k, Mature. The most forbidden fruit always tastes the sweetest. When married man, father, and successful artist, Gerard Way, meets an Italian, attractive, hazel eyed musician/singer at a local café...an instant attraction occurs and when things between them get hot and heavy...sudden consequences come with the price of being unfaithful.

B.F.F. by iamcatastrophicc, 36k [WIP], Mature. Gerard Way has wanted to be a dad ever since he was a kid but as he gets older he fears he might not be able to and tries to adopt. Unfortunately, they won't let him because he's a single dad so instead him and his best friend devise a scheme to get Gerard a child.

How I Met Your Father by Monroeville, 4k, Teen And Up Audiences. “Dad, are you gonna tell us how you and dad met again?”

The Sad Dad Club by mousefrnk, 85k, Explicit. Ex-frontman Frank Iero is a single dad in New Jersey doing his best to raise his three girls. He meets Ray and Gerard, two dads with sons in the same class as one of his girls. Along with Gerard’s brother Mikey (who is soon to be a dad himself), they make plans to hang out every Friday, asking each other for advice and getting some much-needed adult social interaction. Thus, the Sad Dad Club is born.

Arrange The Sorrows And Joys by flax_wench, 26k [WIP], Explicit. Frank is a young, unemployed former musician in desperate need of a job; Gerard is a wealthy, single father searching for a nanny for his beloved baby girl, and hires Frank to be her nanny against Mikey's advice. Much to everyone's surprise, he turns out to be a perfect fit, and to no one's surprise, the two men slowly begin to fall for one another. Love, angst, a whole lotta smut, and an adorable baby named Lola.

I Hate my Weaknesses But they Make Me Who I Am by Frnk, rockforfrnk, 15k, Mature. Frank is a stay at home dad and suddenly his stomach issues cause him problems. All he wants is to be better and focus on his family.

Sonna Kimi ga Suki! (That Was Good!) by momiji_neyuki, RedRomRomance, Trixgrl, 13k, Mature. You meet all kinds of interesting people when you go to the park for lunch.

(We're Going) To Space by Andromedas_Void, 2k, General Audiences. “Yes?” Gerard asked, a soft smile on his (extremely cute) face, along with a dozen star, moon, and planet stickers. “Oh, ah,” Frank started, holding back a laugh. “Your, uh, the mail man delivered this to my house by mistake,” he said, biting his lip and holding out the package.

Songs For The Weak by Wearenotalright, 11k [WIP], Teen And Up Audiences. Frank is a history teacher at his old high school and he has a rather interesting new student. Bandit Way. She was tall and lanky and the other students shunned her for being the "weird kid". Frank has no other choice but to call her father in for a meeting to tell him the horrible news that his little girl is getting bullied.

In A Pretty How Town by fleurdeliser, tuesdaysgone, 23k, Explicit. Single dad Frank Iero moves with his son to a new town. Everyone is nice, but the mayor, Gerard Way, is positively too good to be true.

The Bench by phrankiero (orphan_account), 3k, General Audiences. Frank takes his son James to soccer practice every week. There he meets Gerard, the parent and single father of James's best friend.

I Know What It Means to Me by mistresscurvy, 9k, Explicit. Gerard didn't go to his single parents support group expecting to find love, but it found him there when Frank showed up one week. A single dads AU.

Crazy for You by sockpuppeteer, 2k, General Audiences. Frank's relief is almost palpable when there is someone home in apartment opposite, and, although mussed and a little bleary, he looks relatively friendly. And gorgeous, but Frank is definitely not focusing on that right now.

Online fantasies. by jessislame, 13k [WIP], Not Rated. It has been a long time since Gerard has reconnected with his family and friends due to being at college most of the time. So when he gets an invitation for coffee from an old friend he can't really refuse...can he?

The Secret Life of Bees by eudaimon, 12k [WIP], Explicit. Summer. Frank and his daughter have nothing left in New York, so they hit the road and end up in the tiny town of Orpheus Falls, NY. Frank meets Gerard at a farmer's market, selling artisan honey. They start to figure things out.

It Was All An Accident by MissPamelaD, PhantomSwelling, 59k [WIP], Teen And Up Audiences. Gerard and Frank had it all. A perfect friendship, perfect families with their wives. They're missing nothing. That is until both of their wives die in a tragic accident. They both feel at loss, not being totally able to function without their loves. But, when they decide to move together with their kids, their world changes again. Will it be for the better or for the worse?

#fic rec list #frank/gerard #frerard #kidfic #parents

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unproduciblesmackdown · 5 years

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@uberoll-oystercrackers late night (early morning?) posting here but this is super nice ty and also again retroactively thank you additionally for all the long replies & kind tags you give

like really yeah it’s like, on the one hand, it’s fairly sucky having to have this thing where im always jumping the gun on considering someone Maybe An Friend and then having to remind myself / be reminded of the fact that like no probably not, which is true and yet sucks, which is just how some stuff is!! like sometimes stuff just is Not Good and is not ever going to Not Hurt, despite the fact you can kinda get better at living with it. and like this one isnt a huge deal even tho the larger problem of when ur like, lonely &/or isolated is kind of a whole real deal……

like it’s strange having these contradictory problems with it…..like, Being Myself has never really just been something i can Naturally do, so even just trying to be nice is like oh lord am i being ~manipulative~, and im always too prone to treat interactions like ive got to placate the other person, and then also just like….not having amazing social skills anyways in the sense that i know a lot of times i come across ~off~ to people and can’t really do a lot about that, but also, i feel like i’m always overcompensating for like, enthusiasm and just the fact i like to Get Silly and maybe i’ll act too cool~n~collected or come off like im trying to be all Smart and Smarmy and like jeez no……it doesnt help that when i was younger i generally preferred interacting with adults and so probably was trying to come across as clever and when i was wanting someone to like me i’d be real nervous and try to go too hard in seeming the opposite lol……oh the legacy of the time i found out my mom’s childhood friend who was funny and cool to us thought i was bookish (true) but like also snobby or something lmao like ah jeez i probably made too many sarcastic jokes about things….but oh well i was just like 10-ish at the time.

anyways tho i feel like that still kicks in and when i get the sense someone is cool and it’d be cool if they thought i was cool too i’m like Well So Then i gotta PLAY it cool!! and then like oh no am i coming across as a jerk? or an trying-to-be-an-intellectual?? i always have a lot of thoughts and i do go off when its like, also tied in to Opinions of mine, so im like, oh no am i coming across as trying to tell someone i think they should think exactly this?? or if i try to Be Witty and Tell Jokes are they just coming off as snarky b/c i hope not especially since a lot of times my actual Lighthearted Snark gets read as “i hate this and think its dumb af” lol. ahhhh i just do not know!! like, i wanna sort of dial back my Warmth b/c i can get enthused fast and i have a tendency to get too attached to ppl too fast, which really only sucks for me, but still!! yet i dont wanna rein it in too much and try to overcompensate and come off like im Eternally Unimpressed and don’t really care and etc etc and just…..idk its wild it’s hard to tell how i may be socializing awkwardly lmao ahhh….and on top of it all, i manage to be godawful at realizing when other ppl actually like me. like, that sort of sounds like The Opposite but i guess its just more of that problem of thinking that im going to always bother people….a lot of times it takes me like, months or a year (or two or three) to realize that someone who willingly interacts w me during that time probably does genuinely like me and is maybe a friend. wrow

uhhhh anyways lord that was all just. tangentially related. im Tangents

UH more to the point!!!! the good news is that yeah i don’t have to think “oh we’re totally real bffs” about anyone to really enjoy and appreciate Our Interactions…..and like i do have real appreciation and gratitude for basically all nice attention lol like, if a single reblog of smthing has kind comments, if someone cool just Likes a few posts, talking on occasion or like, ever at all. cuz for real The Little Stuff has always been a really good thing for years now, especially since there’s been plenty of times i havent really had anything happening In Person that was like….good interactions or ppl who were able to hear my actual thoughts and feelings about whatever and still be interested in interacting with me. cuz in terms of not being isolated and in what i find it easy to talk about and how, Online Interactions have been genuinely important and impactful in a positive way for like a solid decade now since i was able to be consistently Online and have my own accounts and stuff in the first place

so like yeah totally i really do appreciate stuff like that. i think its pretty incredible whenever anybody just like, thinks of me, and likes me. having None Of That Feeling is supremely trash and i so appreciate that i don’t have to feel like there’s nothing and that nobody out there in the world is aware of me, and yet i don’t need it to be that like, anyone is Constantly aware of me and like, intensely invested, cuz that’s just not how it goes lol and even kinda meaning a little bit to someone and having my tiny presence in their life be a positive one is a great thought and i really do appreciate it. Unfortunately for like….my entire life, The Contempt Of Others has been a consistent #thing i’m dealing with and it’s not great!! like yeah fortunately ive had the “felt so bad about myself that it eventually circled back around and now self loathing isnt too much of an issue for me” thing, but it still sucks experiencing it lol…..having any testimonials that like, whatever shit im talking about @ myself is fun to read, or i seem okay, or its fun to talk, etc etc, like thats fantastic really

and the kinds of leaf thoughts too, yeah, that kind of thing is nice to know too lol. i was hoping you were ok like, ten hours before i saw you posting again lol…..we’re out here……..

like yeah ldmbgglh whatever my weird problems are with being overexcited abt any Potential Friendship, and also being bad at realizing if people do like me, and also just being Weird and not great at talking, and overcompensating for whatever and maybe coming across too Coldly when rly im a fiery dumbass, wanting friends but also wanting not to be burned by getting ahead of things and being reminded that most ppl aren’t like, as starved for even just friendly interactions……..i’m better at navigating and handling it in some ways but c’est a m’ess!!! aaaggbfg

really what im trying to say is i do appreciate that sort of thing a lot yeah. i could very well Not be thought of by anybody and that would suck and the fact that i get to know that i am is a really great thing. maybe i couldve said this all better last night cuz i was kinda in my feelings abt Life a little but then also it was in a sort of déspresso way so, maybe this is okay lol….

also i worry i don’t express affection and appreciation enough!!! it’s not that i’m like Oh i don’t want to Commit to Being Friends ew…..it’s that i don’t wanna be the one pressuring someone else into being like uh oh i have to play up being invested in milo!! but then maybe my playing-it-cool just makes other ppl do the same thing or think i don’t care or something. like oh i appreciate this person a ton and think they’re great and they’ve been kind to me but if we only talk so often and obviously im not There for them and involved in their life in the way a ~real friend~ would be, maybe it would just ring hollow to say i love them, for example. lord lol……. it’s all “oh don’t dial down your kindness and affection” and yet also “but don’t wanna inadvertently push other people or Be Weird or get myself invested in something where i don’t mean as much to the other person not cuz they suck but because like, of course im just a fun internet acquaintance, which is fine!!” ahhhhhh the challenges. anyways!!!!!!!

the point is well i do like ppl yeah and i really appreciate ppl liking me. every now and then they do it online or even in person and thats just a Joy and i wish things were more secure!!! i also have to not even necessarily want ppl to get invested in me in case things go to shit too soon or whatever and it doesnt help that ~being open~ means talking abt depressingass stuff sometimes that like, i don’t mind being open about, but i also don’t want to put on other ppl. which, sidenote on that, im feeling relatively alright all these recent months even if im not technically thriving; it’s okay. it’s a hot mess! but that’s just How It Is sometimes!! it’s what it is. and ive had support from ppl in big and small ways that i know i could have had to go without and all the ways ppl are nice to me count for a whole lot and i have appreciated it, and do appreciate it, and will continue to appreciate it.

tldr 💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

#7:05am who up!! im nocturnal. im a vampire. a cool vampire. jk not sexy enough #unsexy vampire rights!!!#unsexy nocturnal me getting reckless and saying into the mic: Hey. I Love Y’all. Yeehaw

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structureurself · 5 years

Text

Fear

Some people are scared of the clown from “IT”, some are scared of arduous tasks such as studying for tests, or building a home. My two biggest fears are rejection and the “unkown”.

I hate not fitting in. For me a constant reminder that I don't belong, is my last name. Since I was a kid I heard people slaughter it, the classic “Anak-Ah-kayev” or “Where are you from?”

“I was born here.. in New York... I’m an American.” I reply

“Yeah but where are your parents from?” They rebuttal.

“Russia. Belarus to be exact, if you know where that is... it is not really Russia.”

Now here is where it gets tricky. If this is someone with a higher education or maybe they are from a different country, they treat me like a human. We talk, exchange ideas or just pure small talk... but there is a whole other type of people that instantly give me this look of... well almost disgust.

Why? You don’t even know me. And even if you did know me, still why?

I pondered this for a long part of my child hood. Going through history classes learning of the two countries... odd relationship. Not terrible, but far from perfect. I mean, shit, we fought together... lost millions of lives fighting the same evil. Never really fighting directly. Behind the scenes relationships were not all too good, but back to rejection.

In no way am I saying my life was impossible to live being who I was, I have seen black and asian children being treated even worse, and women. But I can only really understand my struggles. Especially at a young age.

My other fear was the “unknown”. I think to a certain degree this is everyone’s fear, just the subject of what the certain individual would like to know varies. For me, Im a nut, I need to know everything. I have what I believe to be a large amount of anxiety. My thoughts are flying at a thousand miles an hour constantly asking questions, contemplating my health, my success, my failures, why someone rejects me, why someone accepts me, what will happen in court, what will happen at work, if my wife will leave me, will we all die in a nuclear war, if there ever will be a “Friends” reboot... The world puzzles me.

At a young age, disciplines like Karate and reading helped me avoid, or confront these issues. I use the term avoid because at that time, I did not realize that disciplines are not just distractions. As I got older something made me find new distractions. Either negative influences, Television, environment, puberty, moving to different states, family, dumb childhood thoughts or a combination of some of these factors drove me to drugs and alcohol.

MOST drugs made me feel numb, confident, indestructible or unfortunately a weird form of OK. Some psychedelics I feel opened my mind to new ideas and sometimes even helped me not do hard drugs... for a duration of time. Alcohol is a drug, for the reader who does not understand this due to age or lack of consumption, inform yourself of what constitutes a drug and how powerful something really is... even if it is legal. It still kills, ruins lives, dictates nations (Russia) and can change your life dramatically. Obviously there is some positive culture in alcohol, marijuana, psychedelics and dare I say cocaine? No please, don't go do cocaine kids. Bottom line, my line of thinking was “It changes the way you feel? You can see what? How does it do that, what does it feel like?”

13 to 25 was a dangerous, fun and in my case necessary path. I learn one way, from trying and failing. Yes obviously you can learn from reading and others, unfortunately I chose the wrong path. I used all my brain power, my fear of rejection and not knowing, to use, distribute and learn about drugs.

Accepting that my decisions ultimately drove everyone that I had ever loved, had known or had mutual feelings for me away by using drugs was one of the hardest things I contemplated and still to this day think about. I could say I ruined my life, I could say people did way worse, I could give excuses or be dramatic. The best thing to do is to move on. The world moved on, most people who were affected by my antics moved on. Or they overdosed and died, or they are my parents and family members who to this day cannot understand why I did this to myself, but they moved on. Im sitting here butt ass naked typing away. No one cares. My wife is asleep, my son too.

Acceptance of your fears my friends, is what you need to do or try to do before you meet the reaper.

Rejection made me stronger, pfft you don't like Russians? Good, people who cannot accept you for what you cannot control should not be around you. And not everyone HAS to like you. People will not like you for any fucking reason. Logical, illogical, last name, first name, penis size, what fucking shirt you got on... Guys/Gals it doesn't matter. If you fucked up, and she left you, good because YOU fucked up, and YOU should own up to it or change your behaviors. Or not. Accept what you can or cannot do, this blog/tumblr page is not for motivation. I’m not going to be diving too much further into my past or my mistakes except for educational purposes. This blog will not be about glorifying the use of drugs or alcohol or telling you they are bad. I don't give a shit, it ruined tons of lives and helped tons of lives. In the end, knowledge and self control is what gets you through life. All Im saying is if you have not done any, for now, focus on something else. And if you have, great, move on.

This blog will be used to provide financial education for young adults. My goal is to try to shy children away from dealing drugs illegally, participating in illegal activities that are not cost/risk effective, avoiding their problems, and just general laziness, through the power of knowledge and “Financial freedom” (OOoooOo fancy)

Listen man, or woman, girl, or boy, or whatever the gender neutral want to be called. Im not an english teacher and Im not super sensitive. Im a 25 year old American kid who has been through a bunch a trauma, caused a shit ton of trauma, met my amazing wife and had a perfect baby. I no longer deal or use drugs, I read and invest. You should too.

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haphazardlyparked · 6 years

Text

the sahms

regret everything part twelve (part eleven)

Noki barely goes anywhere in Court without Isokai. They even enter Kan’s small audience study together, Isokai in his Samran robes and Noki in a suit made in similar colors. Kan would have sworn his meeting had only been scheduled with Noki. He’d been looking forward to it all morning.

Before he can properly pout, the Dowager (at Sem’s desk) raises her brows and says, critically, “I can’t tell who’s the adult and who’s playing dress-up.”

Noki stiffens, lips thinning in that small frown of his. The ambassador merely sits himself in one of the seats before Kan’s desk, in a graceful sweep of cloth. Kan wonders if the ambassador has ever done anything ungracefully.

“I am the one wearing what could be construed as a dress,” Isokai remarks as he arranges the folds of his robes around him. “If that helps you decide.”

“Please don’t encourage the Dowager, Ambassador,” Kan advises dryly. He doesn’t look at Isokai, focusing instead on Noki and inviting the scrupulously polite diplomat to sit with a wave.

“I object to you implying that I’m some sort of child,” the Dowager announces.

“That’s not what I meant at all, Mother,” replies Kan. The Dowager’s eyes narrow at his droll tone. “You are an adult menace to society who shouldn’t be engaged with or encouraged, especially not when I’m trying to have a serious conversation with foreign dignitaries.”

The Dowager shakes her head. “I don’t understand where all this insolence has come from,” she says, a patent lie that has Sem rolling his eyes. Sniffing theatrically, the Dowager allows, “Proceed with your meeting, children.”

Across the desk, Noki struggles to hide his irritation behind his polite diplomat’s mask. “I believe we had an agenda, sir?” he reminds the room pointedly, and Kan sits up in his chair attentively.

“Ah, yes, Diplomat Sadura,” Kan says. Glancing down at the meticulous notes he’d made when he thought his meeting was with Noki alone, Kan pushes the tablet aside and rests his elbows on his desk. “I’m afraid we’re going to throw that agenda out the metaphorical window.”

“Excuse me, sir?” Noki asks, stiff and brittle.

“While the ins and outs of tech tariffs and tech/orgotech intellectual property rights are deeply fascinating to me,” Kan says blithely, “since I have you and the ambassador both here, what I would really like talk about today is Samran culture.”

Noki glances sideways at Isokai, and then back at Kan. “Lord Kan,” he begins, a little suspiciously. “That’s quite a broad topic. What exactly did you wish to discuss?”

Kan smiles at Isokai coldly and stares the ambassador straight in the eye when he says, “I’d like to have a nice, civil conversation about why you Samrans seem to hate me so personally.”

“Sir,” Noki says quickly, “I do not believe this is the best--”

“--thank you, Sadura,” Kan cuts Noki off politely. “But I would really like to hear the ambassador’s opinion. Ambassador Isokai, if you would enlighten me, it would be so much appreciated.”

The Dowager leans back in Sem’s chair, eyes now intent on Isokai—though she shoots Sem a look rife with predatory anticipation first.

Isokai watches the Dowager, and then offers Kan a politely regretful smile. “It’s the extremist Sahms,” he says, naming Samra’s official church. “In the best oversimplification I can offer, you unfortunately fill many prophecies of Akal, the Destroyer of Worlds.”

Somehow, Kalna is not surprised that Iska’s people literally take him for a demon. He’s ready to be offended by the idea, but before he can get there, the Dowager laughs loudly.

“This is an absurd joke,” she chuckles.

“It is not a joke, lady,” Iska replies. “It is only a small faction of Sahms, but they are very vocal and relatively powerful. Diplomat Sadura has shared that some of Lord Kan’s reservations over a treaty and accession talks involve this problem; I am sorry to report that this is not something we can be flexible with. Samra will not be issuing any apologies to either of you. Unfortunately.”

“You won’t even apologize for calling my mother a tramp?” Kalna needles. In truth, he’s actually a little touched that Noki raised the issue with the ambassador. It’s not like he or the Dowager actually need (or expect) an apology. So long as the cooler heads of Samra prevail, time—and Kan’s eventual, normal death—would wear down the Sahms’ hostility.

The Dowager proves her indifference when she observes, gleefully, “I am a bit of a tramp, darling.”

“The writings on Akal do involve particular circumstances of birth,” Iska adds, vaguely apologetic.

“Well, I guess we’re out of luck, Mother,” Kalna says, a little sharply. The edge is for Iska, who he smiles at when he says, “But tell me, Ambassador, where do you stand on all of this? Am I going to end the world?”

Iska doesn’t try to hide his gaze. He looks at Kalna with calm assurance and tells him, “Of course not, Lord Kan. But I do understand the Sahms—the coincidences are compelling to those of the most fervent faith. As for the rest of us, the hierarchy of our gods lies at the core of our beliefs, and we won't make any strong statements against even our most extreme factions.”

Sem scoffs. “So Samra as a nation condones the kind of people who think the Dowager gave birth to a demon?” he demands.

Iska considers the secretary’s accusation, and then nods stiffly. “It is of the utmost importance for us to respect our countryman’s beliefs, even if they are more extreme than ours.”

The Dowager laughs again. “Do your countrymen know Kan is a terrible demon?”

“Mother,” Kalna protests. “If I must be a demon, can’t I be good at it?”

“Darling, you wouldn't even cheat on your schoolboy exams,” the Dowager reminds him. “The Samran gods all probably think you’re a bit pathetic.”

Kalna has to laugh at the horrified expression on Noki’s face, and the pained consternation on Iska’s.

hi yes, here is the update, complete with a crisis of naming, and maybe a slice of plot that’s not just ~drama~? (actually, don’t get your hopes up :p)

@gingerly-writing @severe-fangirl-syndrome @rrrawrf-writes

#writing #challenge accepted 2k18 #regret everything #kan and noki

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kujo1597 · 7 years

Text

Actually, That Was a Good Thing

The confrontation with Jaune Diamont went fairly well. For the first time in a while Peridot’s life wasn’t a complete mess full of stress.

Well, apart from the usual stress of debt and just anxiety in general.

Peridot was in a relationship with a wonderful beautiful hilarious woman.

This woman’s family welcomed Peridot with open arms and have helped with some major things.

Things were going great for Peridot.

You can also read this on Archive of Our Own.

Chapter 11

Peridot stretched out and took in the sun shining through her window.

What a wonderful beautiful day.

The restraining order was filed.

Thanks to woodworking and sewing she figured out how to sleep in Amethyst's bed without killing her back. She made a board to lay on one side of the bed.

Things were finally looking up for Peridot. Even in terms of money. She’s been working extra hard and her reputation has finally hit a level where she’s been getting a lot more work. She was now able to move out and into a place nicer than a shitty tiny apartment in a terrible neighbourhood.

Although she’d prefer something better and Lapis did say that she could keep living with her as long as she’d like.

Peridot didn’t see the next ordeal just around the corner.

Amethyst looked at Peridot and smiled. Her partner’s mood was at an all-time high. It was nice to see that cute lopsided smile more and more often.

This time it was present as Peridot was playing ski-ball.

“Man Peri, you’re really kicking ass today,” Amethyst was at the machine next to Peridot’s; she rolled her ball and got the lowest value. “How do you do it?”

“It’s actually just a matter of knowing the exact slope and having good control over your power and angle,” Peridot explained as she got another ball in the highest scoring hole. “Each machine is ever-so-slightly different and you must account for that.”

“So I take it that’s why you always play on that one.”

“Correct,” another hit.

“You gotta teach me sometime,” another miss.

“Alright,” Peridot threw her last ball then walked over to Amethyst and observed. “You’re throwing a bit too hard and your wrist keeps twisting.”

“Yeah, I kinda fucked it up while homeless.”

“Oh. Well, you’ll just need to account for it.”

Peridot watched Amethyst roll a few more balls up the slope slowly adjusting the angle and curiosity got the better of her.

“So how did you break your wrist?”

“Shit, man... that day is a blur,” Amethyst laughed. “After I broke my wrist I stole a homeless guy’s booze and drank until the pain went numb.”

“O-oh...” Peridot didn’t know what to say.

“Ah, don’t worry about it,” Amethyst waved her hand. “That’s behind me now. I’m like a shark, always moving forward.”

Peridot couldn’t help frowning, that... isn’t healthy.

Before she could say anything she heard Mr. Smiley’s voice.

“Dag-nabbit, Punch Buddy broke down again!”

Peridot was torn, address Amethyst’s issues... or help Mr. Smiley by digging into a machine...

Mr. Smiley sounded very upset and she could talk to Amethyst some other time so Peridot decided to see if she can help him.

“Would you like me to look at it?”

“Oh, Peridot,” she had startled him. “How much do you know about fixing games?”

“Well, I’ve fixed a few broken consoles and handhelds,” Peridot replied. “I also studied engineering in college and was in the robotics club.”

Mr. Smiley seemed surprised. “Heck of a lot more than I did when I started this.” He stood up. “Alright, take a look.” His eyes looked firm but he was still smiling. “But if you break it you have to pay for the professional repairs.”

Peridot rolled up her sleeves and got to work as Mr. Smiley and Amethyst watched. Amethyst had no idea what was going on and even Mr. Smiley had a bit of trouble keeping up with Peridot’s fast motions.

Before they knew it Peridot asked Amethyst to test the game.

“You need to eat some spinach,” the machine said as it displayed an abysmally low score.

“Are you kidding me?” Amethyst protested, “that was my strongest punch!”

“I’ve seen you punch,” Peridot frowned and gave the machine one of her newly-honed punches.

“Was that a mosquito bite?” The machine displayed the lowest score possible.

“I’m not that weak,” Peridot’s slight muscle definition was clear as she rested her chin on her hand. “There must be something wrong with the pressure-plate.” She turned to Mr. Smiley. “Do you have a spare?”

He sighed. “No, and this machine is so old that parts for it are impossible to find.”

“Well, if you give me a week or two I could fix it,” Peridot offered hesitantly.

“Sure,” Mr. Smiley took her offer with one of his more genuine smiles. “He’s doing me no good like this anyway. But remember, if he breaks you pay for ‘im.”

“Understood,” Peridot offered a handshake and Mr. Smiley accepted it. “I’ll keep you posted.”

“Thanks kid.”

Unfortunately Peridot hadn’t even considered how she’d get the big heavy machine home.

Fortunately Amethyst had the good idea of calling in an old friend, Greg Universe, Steven’s dad. A man Peridot’s only seen a few times as he picked up Steven for father-son day. He seemed nice enough.

And sure enough, he was. Greg had no problem at all with helping load the machine onto his van and driving Peridot home. When they got there he helped unload it. All while smiling and playing songs on cassettes.

Thankfully Amethyst understood that Peridot was eager to start on her new project and agreed to hang out with her later.

They separated with a kiss and Peridot immediately got to work on that pressure-plate.

It only took a few days for Peridot to fix Punch Buddy. Greg was nice enough to drop her and the machine off at the arcade.

Mr. Smiley inspected it and seemed impressed.

“So did you add that thing we discussed?” He asked.

“Yep, I added the sensitivity adjuster,” Peridot replied, she reached around the dummy and pointed at a well-hidden zipper with a small lock on it. “I tried to hide the modification both to not ruin the aesthetic and so people hopefully can’t find it and cheat.”

“Excellent,” the smile on Mr. Smiley’s face almost seemed diabolical, he did try to rig the ring toss after all.

Peridot bet that he wanted to rig Punch Buddy.

A part of her regretted giving him this power.

But the cheque being passed to her made that regret go away.

“Now, it isn’t much but I couldn’t not pay you,” Mr. Smiley said. “You did a bang-up job.”

“Thank you Mr. Smiley.”

“Would you be up for fixing my other machines too? I’ll pay you for it of course.”

“Yes! Absolutely!” Enthusiastic somehow wasn’t a strong enough word to describe Peridot’s response.

Mr. Smiley laughed. “Good! I don’t have any work for you at the moment but I’ll call you when I do.”

“Oh,” something occurred to Peridot, “would you be able to drop off and pick up the machines? I only have a two-door car and I don’t want to keep bothering Greg.”

“I’ll try, but most repairs will be simple enough for you to do here in the arcade.”

“You’re okay with me just working for you in plain sight?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Mr. Smiley’s brow furrowed.

“Well, I don’t exactly have a ‘front-desk face,’” Peridot didn’t get why he didn’t see that plain-as-day.

“Now who told you that ridiculous crap?” The smile was still present but Mr. Smiley looked mad.

“A lot of people, not with words but the disgusted looks say it all,” Peridot thought for a moment. “Well, my mother put it into words fairly recently.”

“From what I hear your mother’s a real piece of work. Don’t give anything that woman says any value.”

“Oh, uh, thank you.”

“You’re a good kid, all those employers really missed out.”

Mr. Smiley patted Peridot’s shoulder. “Now how about you give Punch Buddy a few shots before I make him tougher?”

“I can’t dance.”

Amethyst had called the next week asking if Peridot wanted to go to a rave.

“Aw Peri. Half the people don’t dance anyway so you won’t stand out.”

Peridot sighed. “Even so, aren’t drugs all over the place at raves?”

“Not this one. Sour Cream’s are clean, he’s a good kid. And you’ll like the music he plays. You’re into dubstep, right?”

“Yeah, I am. But, uh, are we going to be the only adults there?” Peridot hoped her voice didn’t sound like she thought that adults going to a teenager’s rave was weird.

“Nope! Ages six to... however old Nanafua is.”

Peridot himmed and hawed for a bit. “Okay, I’ll go. But if I don’t enjoy myself I get to leave early and you have to indulge me.”

“How so?”

“My knee has been bothering me lately and your kisses are the only cure.”

Amethyst laughed. “I’ll do ya one better and throw in some kisses on your stump too.”

“I don’t understand how you enjoy that; it gets so sweaty. I mean, I won’t complain.”

“You know I like the taste of salt.”

“Eeeeewwww,” Peridot giggled.

Amethyst laughed and they talked for a bit after making their plans.

Peridot didn’t expect the rave to be at the same warehouse as Amethyst’s wrestling matches.

She had decided to wear a dark shirt with a glow-in-the-dark UFO print on it under a bright-green hoodie. She debated wearing shorts because her prosthetic foot would glow under a blacklight but it was too chilly for that.

Amethyst arrived wearing a bright pink hoodie with a white shirt underneath it. During the cooler months Amethyst had started to wear jeans with star-shaped patches on the knees.

“Hey Peri! Lookin’ good.”

They hugged and kissed.

“Thank you, you look good too.”

“Shall we head in?” Amethyst offered her arm and Peridot took it.

The rave was already underway, an interesting mix of dubstep and chiptunes pulsed through the warehouse. A good number of people were dancing with glowsticks in their hands.

Much to Peridot relief there were also people not dancing and were instead talking and drinking, if Amethyst was correct, non-alcoholic beverages.

“You gonna try dancing?” Amethyst asked Peridot.

“No,” Peridot replied, “you can though. I’ll enjoy watching you.”

Amethyst frowned. “Alright. You know, you don’t have to be good at it.”

“I know,” Peridot sighed. “I just don’t want my knee to give out in public. Or for my unfeeling feet to slip.”

“Feet?”

“Nerve damage.”

“Ah. Okay, I’ll be sure to dance extra good for you.” Somebody caught Amethyst’s eye. “Ugh, see that douchie looking guy?”

Peridot looked where Amethyst was pointing and saw a brunette taking in the crowd.

“The one with the neckerchief?”

“Yeah, his name’s Kevin. He hits on every girl and doesn’t take ‘no’ for an answer.”

“Ew.”

“You bet, so stay away from him,” Amethyst tried to think about how to phrase the next sentence. “You’re probably safe since he’s into more feminine girls. But still be careful around him.”

“Will do.”

Amethyst joined the dancers like the old pro she is and Peridot tried her best to mingle. She ended up chatting with one of Sour Cream’s internet friends about video games.

Naturally Peridot didn’t get too sucked into the conversation to not look at Amethyst dancing. Amethyst would make eye-contact with Peridot every time she danced extra sexy.

The movements of Amethyst’s hands and hips were hypnotic and very pleasing to look at.

Just as things reached a high, Peridot heard a familiar shout.

“GET OUT OF HERE!”

Peridot’s heart pounded. What happened to Lapis?

She rushed out towards the voice and saw Lapis with a very tall muscular woman with vitiligo and beige hair. She bared a bit of a resemblance to Amethyst actually...

Then Peridot remembered.

That’s Jasper!

As Peridot was about to greet her, Jasper spoke to Lapis.

“Why won’t you take me back? It’ll be better this time.”

Amethyst noticed that Peridot vanished and tracked her down. She looked between Lapis and Jasper.

“Because what we had was bad.”

“I’ve changed, you’ve changed me,” Jasper took a step forward. “Lapis, please.”

Lapis’ voice was firm. “No! Jasper, I handcuffed you to a bed and didn’t let you go.”

“I asked you to do that.”

“Then when you changed your mind I kept going. It was awful.”

Something clicked in Jasper’s mind. “Y... yeah. You did keep going. But that’s what I wanted!”

“At first! But I didn’t respect that you changed your mind! Then we kept yelling at each other. The whole time we were together, just constant yelling and angry sex. That’s awful! Why do you want to come back to that?”

“Because I’m the only one strong enough to handle you!” Jasper sounded passionate but also a bit unhealthy. “I may be a brute but you’re a monster.”

And that’s what caused Peridot to step in. She would not let Lapis’ recovery take another sharp plummet.

“Lapis isn’t a monster,” Peridot said firmly.

“Peacock? What are you doing here; Amethyst says you don’t dance,” Jasper shook her head, she got off-topic. “You’re glaring at the wrong person.”

Amethyst stepped in. “Peri, seriously? You heard what Lapis did and you’re sticking up for her?”

“Lapis feels bad about what she did, that means she’s not a monster,” Peridot was miffed, Amethyst knows that Lapis is recovering from her horrible life.

“Fucking seriously,” Amethyst turned to face Jasper. “Did she ever say ‘I’m sorry’ to you?”

Jasper shook her head. “No.”

Amethyst slapped her thigh. “Fukkin’ knew it. Same goddamn thing she does to Peri.”

“You don’t have to say ‘I’m sorry’ to be sorry,” Peridot argued. “If you ask me, actions speak louder than words. Do you have any idea how many empty apologies I’ve heard over the years?”

“That doesn’t matter! Even if that’s true, Lapis does a shitty job of showing that she’s sorry. You still drop everything to care for her. Nothing’s changed! She hasn’t learned and neither have you!

“Hey, I’m standing right here,” Lapis interrupted. “Quit talking abou-”

“-SHUT UP!” Amethyst didn’t let her come close to finishing. “Just shut the fuck up! The only good thing you’ve ever done is take Peri in! And I’d argue that it ain’t even that good because you use her as an emotional sponge! She’s always a wreck after consoling you!”

Lapis looked at Peridot. “Is that true?”

“Not a wreck, Amethyst is exaggerating,” Peridot’s first instinct, as usual, was to make sure Lapis didn’t get too upset.

“That’s it! I can’t take this anymore!” Amethyst threw up her hands. “C’mon Jasper. We’re leaving.” She grabbed Jasper by the wrist and started to storm off.

“Amethyst wait,” Peridot called after her. “There’s a good reason why I do that.” Peridot caught Lapis’ eye and couldn’t continue, not infront of her.

“Well?” Amethyst crossed her arms.

“It’s something we need to discuss in private,” Peridot approached Amethyst. “I’ll phone you tomorrow once we’ve cooled down.”

Amethyst glared at Peridot. “No, we’re doing this right now!”

“Okay, fine,” Peridot’s stomach felt twisted-up. Amethyst has never been this angry before.

They walked somewhere private.

“So, what’s your great reason for making yourself miserable for a blue-haired bitch?” Amethyst’s voice was an unsettling mix of sarcasm and rage.

“And that’s why I wanted to wait,” Peridot’s irritation got the best of her.

Amethyst glared.

“Look,” Peridot said after taking a breath; in and out, just like her therapist taught her. “Lapis has been in a bad place for years. I need to help her out.”

“And why’s that?”

“I was getting to that,” Peridot snapped. She dragged her hand down her face. In and out. “Because, when she’s happy I’m happy.”

Amethyst huffed and turned on her heel.

“I’m not finished,” Peridot said feebly.

“I’ve heard enough,” the look on Amethyst’s face was like a knife to Peridot’s gut. “You like her more than you like me.”

“What? No! Amethyst!”

“I should’ve known better! This always happens!”

“Amethyst, talk to me,” Peridot was confused. What always happens?

“No! I’m done! Goodbye Peridot.”

And with that, Amethyst was gone.

Somehow being called “Peridot” by Amethyst hurt worse than the yelling.

#SU Fanfic #Amedot #Perithyst #SU Amethyst #SU Peridot #Mr Smiley #SU Lapis Lazuli #SU Jasper #Human AU #Kujo Writes #See you in two weeks!#Not Such a Bad Thing Universe

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throwingideasatthewall · 3 years

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The Clone Wars Voyage of Temptation

(Season 2 Episode 13)

...... ^^ Any way... Episode Opens Up With . Guard

Ah yes

“ Obi-Wan apparently fucks things up,”

[Why the focus on the guard’s blue eyes?]

The Sequel;

Old Friend

[With no familiarity-

This is really focusing on all the wrong scenes . .... Whelp

*Gets glass*

‘pparently I’m ready for some nonsense

. .

How deep does this go?

(Almost all the bad scenes]

Even the narrator- Seems To Struggle - Making Sense-

‘Satine claimed neutrality

Then there was an attack by -Deathwatch

So Satine

Had to go pled her innocence To the Senate?

-See how that doesn’t make any sense

Involvement in the war

�� She- - She didn’t do anything - You just said it was a terrorist organization.

Anyone who didn’t watch the last episode- Is going to be so lost (Even those that did..)

[We’re not even passed that recap]

Fun

Er-

Why?

what?

Why stick bug? (Skeleton thing)

As-sassinate her

Since when? I mean Okay...

(For those of you that don’t know the deathwatch, Totally bitched out, When it had a chance to kill her)

After their plan had been revealed,

Legit “let her go”, Ominous empty Hook.

Now apparently giving chase . . .

With more bodyguards and protection . . .

Sharp

One unaccompanied ship..

yeah they’re screwed

[at least there’s no Ahsoka-]

Presence

“Retnu” ?

What

[Retinue; a group of advisers, assistants, or others accompanying an important person] Oh

How to take the clones

Show offs “Anxiety,”

Sense?

[can someone just say ‘feel’. once? Not everything has to be “sensed”

Stupid Jedi mind reading bullshit

Safer Hand

The idiot that got knocked out by one of them

And Anakin.

[also is there like a Padawan babysitter?

Question

Don’t want to see them

Just Cur.]

Any way

Why?

He doesn’t seem too anxious

Oh observant one-

[I know somethings can only be feel- But seriously, ed

You’d think it’d show up in his body language

No dreamy look. ...

No wrist ful ness

Just rubbing his beard You need to do better than that

[Because at this rate I’m starting to believe they were just friends

Which I don’t think the writers were going for]

Also, geez, was that sharp And with no defensiveness Just anger

Let’s try it again, with a little more- sadness Emotion-

“Ah! No, it’s It’s all the past,” [Sadness]

More intensity on the hair grab

Narrowed Eyes (Eyes Only, Eye Brows Taut)

[Look Ing at Ground]

Possibly Shift- Ing - Hands - Into Pockets —- Head tilted upwards —— For absolute dejection - - - And Des -peration - - - Neat

‘Aight,’

‘How Do I-’

[Like, that’s not a typical reaction, Shout Ing- No emotion- I have just decided to -shout,’

‘Okay,’ Anakin

Whelp

Why is everything dark?

This is a very important Person, yes?

Why are there crates?

Are you storing Salt Ine with the luggage?

(The Se- nate’s gonna kill-

[Wait, was there a perspective change?]

Are- Are we dealing with the other clone troopers?

That- was very badly done-

You went from one area with people in an enclosed space

To people who look exactly the same

Coming out-

[You- You needed more distinction .there.]

Any.way

Investigating crates

In the dark

On a ship

Supposedly escorting a very important person [you’re telling me the Senate couldn’t splurge, On the lights, For their very important person escorting plane?

What happens if she wanted to get something for herself?

She has to walk through the dark?

Probably trip on a lot of things,

And possibly-

This set wasn’t thought out well,

Gotta Say,

Whelp

Okay

[Ah, the music is a little blaring]

It’s- been going on for several minutes-

[nothing against music [or sound effects] Just... This one doesn’t really match the tone (Being pretty loud bumbling and curious) (Needing less Brass, Or to be played at a lower frequency) For Shorter Periods Of Time) As It’s really fighting with the other effects, ....

Worst transport vehicle ever,]

War is intolerable Uh, did I walk into a philosophy seminar?

What

Also; SUBTLE!

And sorry to be a complainer;

The colors clash- Horribly (Which could be the point, the red of blood against her blue Red Oni-

But it’s not-

The red in this scene is clearly Displayed as nobility

(But that’s gold.)

And this scene - it clashes (Sorry to critique.)

Horr-ibly

The nobility music is drowning out her words

Which are not ones; you would speak with acquaintances or court; Far too uptight

And...

It just doesn’t work

- Gives me a -headache-

(Not good)

What is dude doing here?

What?

Why?

Er, Not As Bad As The . Abo mina tions.

Life

What

[Okay

She’s got a point ... Admittedly. It Is Framing- Her As Claiming . . . God?

. . . Gathering thoughts ... My issue with the scene- (Besides- the music) is how it presents Dutchess

Here she’s calling about the power of life And this could work; There’s nothing wrong with poking fun at authority assumers-

The excessive involved - The words with no meaning - Extrava gance-

But it isn’t doing that

It’s presenting hi- larious antics straight (Like this is normal behavior Or Just Urgh- Every-thing’s off And everything’s so overwhelming that I can’t pinpoint the exact problems.. ... It’s not Played Up ... For Humor

*Some Of It, But Could Be More

That’s The Ish

Small fix; Gold, Extrav agant Music, Lower Tempo (Volume) Calling Up Obi- Won To Chat, “The Jedi”. Jedis? There’s Your Scene . . . Neutral . . . . Aight Doing The Ey-

Inter-

She invited

Yeah you should’ve knocked-

And not come out swinging

But-

No-

Senator

Confusing this is

Serious

Also a lot more people..

Seriously emotions . ?

Yeah I don’t know what kind of emotions are going on here either buddy

Just that the writers are playing defense for Obi-Wan again

-Seriously

2 In A Row All For Obi-won

The only emotion and responsibility being when Duchess is talking

Author favoritism isn’t cute

Let them argue like adults

Not lowering the standard - ?

Peace keepers

There’s a difference

They’re both authority assumers.

Peace

So is enabling for peace .

Okay, seriously

Look effects can be used To Accentuate What’s already there,

Not replace

Your audience will know who’s right and wrong Regardless of how many cheap tricks You use

All it does is make you look bad Have faith your audience can tell right from wrong

And don’t use cheap tricks to try and avoid accountability

(Equal Accoun tability In The Narra. Tive)

Any Way -

No such thing

Yeah, why are these fuckers here?

Last we saw they were getting on Anakin’s ship and leaving

Now this

It feels a little Ret-con -y

And the story isn’t much better to justify it

Also did you just call them up here so you could lambaste him in front of your friends?

Don’t get me wrong she’s being damn tox

But Obi-Wan is an adult and can get himself out of the situation.

Now, moving on; Did

When?

Even they looked confused ... Hide

She’s got a point

Aight, Stop, How is this happening . Two Sides

If only the authors would let them argue as equals

No avail

[Also what even was the argument?

“A lot of people want to stay neutral because we don’t want to screw over our lives and that’s how I’ll be presenting our case”

“ A lot of people like taking the initiative and being involved in the action,”

I don’t recall.. .

[Public hum.]

[Puppy Dog]

[You’re nice]

[slightly guilty] Yea, I am

[Here’s Anakin]

Anakin...

[Puppy Dog]

“Your couriers asked me to do it,”

Couriers- no

“You’re hiding behind people,”

Blue dude steps in

I know she was the only one contributing any actual philosophy

Obi-Wan getting one line in

Before the writers went full defense.. ...

That was like the junk food (the potato chips) Of Arguments

Something happened but there was no value . . .

There was more dead air in the conversation than anything else,

Indeed

Non-sense

That was junk food

Stop padding yourself on the back For writing a void argument

Also I really don’t trust the courier guy...

[Call it old grudge]

Why would Duchess invite one of a her servants...

To a high class Senator event..

Look at this guy ... Look at everyone else . . He sticks out like a sore thumb . . . And he’s done nothing but be insubordinate this entire time.

Essentially being Obi-Wan’s “Yes” hype man,

(Are we sure guy isn’t a court jester)

I think multitude makes discord and not a good counsel

...

She...

(Constant character ization!)

Do it

[or hold them accountable to hypocrisy!)

Seriously,

So far this is neither mentally engaging or funny,]

And it’s ONLY to screw with Duchess

Seriously, Stop playing defense for Obi-won

[I know it’s called Star Wars but that doesn’t mean you have to glorify militarization]

Outside of in universe characters

Right

Two Sides

(For five seconds)

Before you started hiding behind meat shields and puppy dog eyes

Hers

As do you

[That wasn’t funny, Movie, Save the soundtrack for when something funny happens)

Now, Oof

See, that was emotion

Somethings the writers Refuse to let Obi- Wan do,

It’s either a bad ass or puppy dog eyes,

- -

You know what as nonsensical as this is It’s better than the fake arguing-

Con-tinue

Aight

Neat

Can’t see anything in here

Dark

And a high-class vehicle meant to escort a very important person

Yeah I’m aware thanks for rubbing it in my face

Doesn’t it make any sensical, or fix the problem Or make it funny ...

Whelp

“Not funny”

Hey, my thoughts when watching this episode

[except that was actually funny and slightly good foreshadowing]

Guess we know where we disagree,

Prefer laughing at their own un-balanced narrative,

Made by cheating...

.....

Hey an actually argument where they treated as equals!

You don’t get a star for that

Why did you bother with the other shit instead of just skipping to stuff like this?

This is good

Also shut up courier guy

[you have helped no one ever]

Rest

Hey this is actually good

Dinner..

Oof

Right

That was almost a facial expression

Who these guys ?

Where did they come from? - Aight, Neat-

Red

That’s unfortunate-

? Ship?

(What is that design?)

History

See you look at all these lighted and gold.. Extended Mission,

Okay, that’s good to know. - - Would’ve been nice to be clued into that the previous episode.

Okay,

Right,

Bountry Hunters

That sounds really traumatizing (Aka. terrible)

That actually does sound pretty terrible for him

Still an enabler

But nice characterization.

Hand to mouth

Now realizing how terrible that sounds

Rom-antic

No sounds terrible

Also they were children likely,

(Don’t think that’s cool,)

That wasn’t really an emotion

Whelp, Crud

Whelp

(Now you’ve scared the baby droid) /j

Violence

Wait did we just miss her whole backstory?

Also whoa, whoa, Whoa

Did you just try to assume authority over a grown woman’s decision to not like violence?

(People aren’t just buttons and numbers decided by the trauma of their childhood- or lack there of- (If so)

And tried to claim authority over a grown woman‘s decision

What the HELL movie?

(I want to believe that’s a mistake and Obi-Wan is meant to come across as the asshole For saying that,)

But all the writers previous choices regarding writing women Leave that up to concerning amounts of doubt)

Difficult task

Which she seemingly manage quite well until you showed up

Problematic..

Yeah, jedi Masters don’t really do not being over involved assholes

Else where

And your master

Demanded

Feelings

Hold up we saw one decent episode (instance) where they were characterized as being equals

A) That doesn’t mean necessarily romantic love

B) we have seen literally none of it

No instance where there actually seems to be any fondness

Between, the both of them

Just... Toxic

(If you need to pull that off you need some actual emot ional stimuli Aka. Emotions Where are they actually care about each other

So far it’s been snipping with no personal (Romantic) Attraction

Example; (Note Romantic is not naturally my field)

Intro;

“Satine - I,”

“ I wish to keep this strictly professional)

(Under “For both of our Breath sakes,” To Her self;

Argue;

“Well, I at least don’t leave the people who require my assistance,”

“I’m a better peacekeeper than you,”

And so forth;

It’s about the longing;

These two; nothing..

Decison

Did

Seriously, why are we watching this, passive tone. .

Whelp

Remorse

Which you haven’t felt this entire episode,

Also, regret and longing are better synonyms.

Aight ...

Okay,

Oh yeah and the other half of this “love” story is a horror story (Completely unconnected, No one’s going T’sundre) What ever

. .

The rest is pretty good Also it was totally the courier guy, I call it,

That’s almost charming. . .

Find Out.

Seriously no one checked it?

Worst security ever

This security sucks

. . .

Worst ship ever ..

What?

Okay?

Aight

What..?

Aight,

Whelp

Aight,

Traitor

Courier

He changes his opinion on a dime and starts shit

Okay

And not attacking shit Logic,

Okay

Everyone just got attacked

Surprised everyone’s not jumpy

Or decided to go to bed

On this nightmare cruise

(”The luggage compartment is under-lit, Senator,”

“The - Security is horrendous

“Bugs in All the Food!”

The HR department is going to have a fecking fit (As well as anyone managing quality)

Courier

Again, what does the little things do?

They just seem to be basic annoyances

But..okay

That makes some sense.

I mean it is logical

But he is being a dick

(Also bold you to assume none of the clones did it)

Knew It

Merrick

Senator?

I thought he was a courier, or some kind of servant?

What?

Throw the table will you?

Whelp

Also;

R.I.P one Senator dude (Who I don’t think was ever named)

Shall be missed (The bug Obi-Wan will definitely hit that senator)

WHERE THE FU-

Where?

Worst. Security. Ever.

Tal Merica

I have problems that I haven’t found

He’s learned well from Obi-wan

And will make the Jedi Masters groan.

Okay

Team Command.

Aight

Oh yeah those guys got screwed over?

But they’re totally dead now right?

Heck

One nuisance bug. .

Clone’s have bug phobia (Dis like)

Thanks

Mother

How do you know?

S’up guys

Straight out of a puppet show,

Anyway

Whelp,

Whelp

Okay,

Saltine’s probably gone by now.

Are there no escape pods?

W-h -elp

Aight apparently not

Also the centerion guard are bitches) (Non derog)

Pfft

That.. line

Also Satine, Why did I bring the weakest freaking guards

And everything involved in it.

Monster

You literally-

Pfft

Okay..

“Get used to it”

What?

Whelp

.. .

Bull

Do you just took out the Centurion Guard, Ain’t some clones gonna stop him

Or deter,”

Help

What?

.. .

Elevator

Dude you were just spilling your fecking epilogue a few seconds ago (Also wrong tone to make this work)

Not reasonable progression of emotions,

How does this help?

Aight, Okay,

What’s

“Deathwatch command, You’re listening to our talk tunes at-”

- -

They’re not gonna be any help

They’re a small moon base .

Possibly a Gaztrillion miles away,

Liar

Not likely

Aight- -

How

Like if this is supposed to be a luxury ship design for the best of comfort and greatest of experience,

No way dude’s caught up in that quick a time

Especially with the little support

Whelp

It’s just went downhill. .

Into crazy nonsense.

Dead.

How

Girl-

That hasn’t even been remotely established enough

My-

Stop-

No gun

You gonna..

duchess

Aight

(Please Do)

Did pretty good at getting hostage Chips . . .

Four (five counting her)

And I don’t know how many others in terms of clones

Point being, it seems to be a mostly empty ship

Run by droids

Anakin Do Thing? - - - Okay

Guy already dead.

Hey, the centurion guards actually did something,

Who are those guys-

Nerrick

? ?

Whelp . . Okay

. “I don’t know how to say this,”

I swear if you say “I love you in that tone of voice, With ‘no emotion,

Whatsoever

Ight

Uhm

Okay

Right...

The lack of understanding of love And any emotion in this scene, Does it for me,

Neither do I Gag me

It’s so poorly done . .. Hardly

(Screw the music you didn’t earn that and you know it)

...

The Episode ... Was better than its predecessor, Which isn’t saying much, From Me

The first bit is as dis-jointed a mess as it’s predecessor

The middle reaches good levels

Then promptly declines back into (less-than) mediocrity

And Nonsense

The romance is nonexistent..

Only getting to friendship At around beg in ni ng Of The Half Way.

The love confession so forced..

(There’s a reason The- cheesy- in the middle- of battle

Was Dis Continued

Note; cheesy as in badly done

And ‘dude has a point’ is the least I Can Say about the Snark To-ward s It

Fix It;

Episode-wise; Separatist pre -sence causes Obi-won And Anakin To Be Inter- rupt ed

Only Anakin Being In- Vited Obi- Won Heart- Broken But Return- Relent

[i’m sorry I just can’t work with the, “have to answer / defend before the Senate (For no Reason) Nor the mystery train bit

(With The Chara C-ter I-zat ion)

Anakin Just Chill -ing there

Alt;

A cross Un- requited Love (For- Bidden-) (Episode) Mashing This Episode And “Hostage,” Elements, Specifically the professionalism argument; Obi- wan’s Side Show -ing The Consequences Of Restriction (Self Restraint) Gone Too Far . Anakin (and Padme’s) Too Little ... Possibly a Cross where they both lie to each other about their relationships ....

For Symbolism ... And Toxin Is Still Toxin ...

Sequence:

Anakin Takes Obi-wan’s Place And Learns About The Hist -ory

Acc- identally Stumbles Across Death Watch

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