#But a bad way with dealing with the problem

[sweetdispatch]

Space - J. Hughes

masterlist pairing: Jack Hughes x fem!reader summary: You're trying to help Jack after his operation as much as you can but he's starting to put distance between you two until he snaps at you warning: argument, swear words

Past few weeks were tough for you and Jack. Since he was injured, he was helpless and the emotions were bottling in him. You could remember watching the game against Vegas and seeing him hitting the bands. It was scary for you and you still can feel the tears growing in your eyes when you think about it. 

When you heard about the operation you were devastated as much as Jack was. You two had been together three years and you remembered how tough it was for him last summer. You hated seeing him so vulnerable. Nevertheless you were with him at every step of his rehabilitation. You always tried to lighten up his mood. 

That’s why the scenario of going through it again completely broke you and Jack. He was mad that he had such a good season and now it’s over not even from his fault. He was mad that he couldn't help the team in fighting for playoffs. He was heartbroken that he’s forced to sit and just watch them. He wanted to be out there with guys and help them .

After the operation, you and Jack returned to New Jersey. You tried to convince him to go home - to Michigan, so he can rest and have support from his family but he was stubborn that he wants to be around the guys. You knew that there’s no point in arguing with him about it. You just wanted him to feel safe and have a good rehabilitation. 

Jack was in a lot of pain after the surgery. That’s why you told him to lay in the living room and take it easy. You were helping him with everything. You always brought him medicine, you cooked for him, helped take a shower and dressed up. He felt bad that you’re doing everything around him. You already had a lot on your plate and now you had to deal with him. 

No matter how many times you told him that it’s not a problem, Jack was furious at this whole situation. He should be the one running around you and not the other way. He never addressed his emotions to you, his family or his friends. He was keeping his feelings inside of him. You tried to get him to talk about how he’s feeling but he was always dismissing you. 

It was tough for both of you. You felt like you two were falling apart because Jack wasn’t talking much. He was watching the Devils games and talked with his teammates about the game. You felt like a housewife who’s here to cook and clean for him. Jack felt useless by sitting on the couch and doing nothing. He desperately needed to be on the ice. 

When Jack finally accepted the faith, he was slowly coming back to being himself. He was showing up at the team training, he was going out for the games and he was more cheerful. You were delighted to see him getting better and better every single day. You wanted him to feel better and was willing to do everything to do it. 

Although for Jack, you were a burden. He was tired of your question about how he’s feeling. He was tired of you basically babysitting like he can’t do anything correctly. He knew how to take care of himself and you were just annoying him. You wanted to help him and that’s why you were always around him asking him questions. He felt trapped. 

Instead of telling you this, Jack started acting up. He was rude towards you and at every question he was rolling his eyes. You were ignoring this at first but you were tired of this attitude. You tried to be the best for him but he was treating you like an air. Like you were no one important in his life. You missed the Jack that made you fall in love. 

Jack didn’t feel any remorse for his action. He didn’t care that you were walking around the house like on tenterhooks. He needed a space and he was finally happy that he had it. With each day it was getting worse. Every word you said to him was ignored. You were having a monologue with yourself. From time to time he was looking at you but didn’t say a word. After a week you had enough. You needed to confront him. You felt like you did something to make him this mad at you. 

“Can you tell me what is your problem with me?” You said to Jack when he was sitting on the couch watching a movie. 

Silence. You were met with silence.

“Say something. I want to know if I did something so I can be better for you” You begged him but still, Jack didn’t say a word. Not even spare you a look. “Fine, act like a child instead of telling what’s your issue” You turned around to go to the bedroom when you finally heard him. 

“You’re my problem” Jack spoke to you for the first time in a week. 

“Excuse me?” You walked closer to him.

“You heard me” Jack said casually with a cold voice. 

“Enlighten me” Again, Jack stayed silent. “I’m actually trying to have a conversation with you every single day but you shut me off. Spill it Hughes” You put your hands on your waist mad at him. 

“You’re insufferable! You ask me every single day how I’m doing or if I took medicine. I’m not a fucking child and you’re not my mother. I can’t stand you here” Jack said with a venom in his voice. 

“It’s because I love you and I care about you!” You fought back. 

“Well I don’t give a shit about it! You’re just a pain in the ass with your stupid questions. I feel the same every single day. You don’t need to ask me this all the time. I don’t even want to talk with you because every conversation is about my injury. You're an annoying bitch!” Jack yelled at you. You took a step back from him, scared of his outburst. You two had been together for three years but he never raised a voice at you. 

“So this is who I am for you, huh? Just an annoying bitch?” You could feel the tears spilling from your eyes. 

“You’re also a good shag, however you should be more willing to suck my dick instead of jumping on him” Jack said with a serious voice and you felt humiliated. “Now get off my face and let me watch the movie. I’m done talking with you” 

And you did. You went straight to the bedroom. You were crying over the words Jack said to you. Jack heard you but didn’t do anything about it. You wanted to talk so he talked with you. You started packing your things from this place. You didn’t want to see him or be around him. You packed all the things you could into a suitcase and left the apartment. 

Jack didn’t even flinch when he heard the closing door. He assumed that you went out somewhere and he enjoyed the peace he had. To his surprise, you didn’t return this night home. He was worried about you until he spotted that your things from the bathroom disappeared. In that moment he just realised what he said to you but there was no coming back from it. He had to deal with the consequences of his words. 

[rotagnus]

advice for your specific situation---<3

hi babies!! i hope all of you are doing okay. you can ask this about any situation you want, i'll try to be general, but there may be some more specific messages littered along the way.

this is a bit of a heavy reading and it deals with certain topics, so as always, be wary!

pile 1.

you guys are absolutely hopeless for some reason. shot down multiple times, it's hard to keep your head up, but your relentless hope is the only thing that's gotten you through tough times in the past, so you keep your head up even though you're crawling. there's a lot of disharmony in matters of the heart; a lot of you could have been very naive towards some problem of an emotional nature, and you may be feeling as if your heart is shattered, or perhaps tender. you are curious about the world, and have an innate belief in the goodness of people even though you keep getting backstabbed over and over again. you've probably asked for a sign recently; a sign to keep your hope, to keep your heart open regardless of the troubles you've experienced. you should look inwards; stop focusing on the minute details of the physical world. you probably have problems with self-sabotage and causing yourself to be in pain, take that as you may. it's hard to not fall back into old patterns, to keep your head up, especially when you've convinced yourself that the ending to this situation is bad. the answer is, you must keep your hope. you must, you must, you must. it is the right thing to do. you will be victorious, in the end, my bleeding heart. that phrase describes you very well. sensitive, emotional, but you prize those aspects of yourself. continue to do so. nurture yourself. you worry about other people, about their problems, but the truth is that you must focus on your faith.

a lot of you seem to have lost your belief in something, going through a dark phase. many are already on a journey to self-discovery, but you feel like you've taken a major step back. you may see other people getting what they want in life, people who are further behind you, and you ask God, why not me? truth is, you have a deep desire to grow. all these people you worry about chose the easy way out and will have a lot of problems to unpack later on in their life. you have your guardian angel to support you, you have many, many pillars of support. soon, everything will clear up, and you will see the answer. don't force yourself to choose an ending before it's time.

a cycle is ending for you. you must let this dark phase come over you. a lot of you might get your period soon or perhaps experience some stormy weather, going through the winter of this ending phase. for this situation to bloom, you must set out boundaries and lay out the ground-flooring for the next cycle to come. what do you want out of your life, darling? not what your parents want, what your friends want, what was laid out in front of you. a lot of you want to be seen. i think you'll get that, but only when you allow yourself to be. this new cycle will bring truths; truths you avoid. it'll bring your true self to the light, and you'll feel belly-up. i think this will be a focal point in your life, for it will either be a cycle you have to keep relearning, or you will finally accept that you must be yourself, authentically. this situation is entirely dependent on you, and how you face these adversities.

pile 2.

you guys are convinced you know everything, through and through. you are on hell of an assumption-maker, my friend. you guys are also givers. you guys are extremely self-aware of your duality, yet you beat yourself up for doing anything out of the extremely high morals you've set for yourself. some of you are guilty about a certain situation; God is telling me that you must forgive yourself. forgive yourself. you can't always be pure and good. your goodness comes from your ability to forgive, and your ability to grow. a lot of you are discovering patterns in your life and patterns in your thinking, which in itself is a very hard process, so i applaud you for that. you've got skeletons in your closet, and they're all coming out, and you're convincing yourself that you are a terrible person because you've gone through shit. FALSE!!! a lot of those things were out of your control. relax, baby. a lot of you are feeling as if this situation is hopeless. partially, some of you felt like everything was going well; it was going great, in fact, and recently something destroyed this perfect world that you had. it may have collided with your new, fresh belief in good things. you are tired of growing through pain. i think a lot of you are pretending that self-love isn't part of the journey. honey baby, you must love yourself very deeply before you can throw yourself onto a sword. yes, life has risks; but a lot of you seem to self-sacrifice yourself to the point that you are marred with nothing but scars and bruises. you view yourself as dirty. you need to develop better self-love and self-respect instead of letting people walk all over you.

your hard work isn't going unacknowledged. you need to set up the basic infrastructure for your life before you can start adding players to the game. you have a pure heart, and sometimes, what the heart wants...isn't necessarily what the heart needs, or deserves. you need to accept that. what you think is perfect for you, may not be perfect for you. also, it may be a better thing to keep a stone-face for a while, to people who you are not very close with. do not tell them your good experiences; people can be jealous, and share your sweet things with sweet people. i feel as though you will get what you want when you grow as a person; you can't start a habit for 10 days and decide that it's all permanent on the 10th day. it takes time. it takes lessons. you asked to be strong, for growth, and this is what you get.

10 is very significant for you guys, i am hearing. OOOUUU girl okay okay. i see. so my deck has hearts instead of swords, and two of hearts fell out, as well as the magician. i think that the magician represents the universe while the two of hearts represent you and someone else, or something else. a lot of you seek perfection with this other subject; you want everything to be orchestrated on YOUR timing. this won't happen! the magician is orchestrating things to happen on divine timing. you can't rush things; right now, focus on making sure that you're the version of yourself you want to be in order to get this blessing. things move on their own timing, with the chariot; you are simply a passenger in this moving vehicle, you cannot tell the driver to go faster. look out of the window and observe the beautiful landscape instead of rushing. the car ain't gonna go faster anyways LOL. 333 is significant, too. change is coming. your intuition is on point; a lot of you already know what you must do for this situation. the lovers fell out again; i think that this may be about romantic love, for some of you. you guys have a lot of dead things you're burying, and you're not done yet; when you'll finish this cycle, you'll get what you want. sailor song may be significant for some of you; i like the way you kiss me by artemas, too. enjoy this journey.

pile 3.

you guys are lost on what to do and where to go. you feel like you've finished a certain cycle in your life, but now you're at a cross-roads, and your heart, soul, body, and mind, all want different things. which do you follow? i feel like a lot of you may have gone ghost on some people; frozen in action is what i'm hearing. maybe you stopped telling people about things in your life, because people from the past wonder about you. it's important for you not to fall into past patterns, dear. a lot of you are very deep feelers, very deep thinkers, and you see people for who they are; their bads, their goods, you understand it is all part of being human. the truth is that people can be both good and bad simultaneously while not deserving a role in your life. it's your movie, baby, and you don't need to have everyone as a star in it. you're such a sweet thing, and you deserve sweetness in your life. a lot of you may be growing closer to your friends, and i advise that you hang-out with them, or talk. you grew up either very alone, or with a very close-knit group of people, forged out of pains and sufferings. you're a realist, and you have a very straight view of the world, not allowing yourself to see it as something extremely optimistic, as pile 1 does. when you do, it makes you overwhelmed; it feels as if your heart has multiplied, beating in so many rhythms it confuses you. you're reminiscing on people, specifically; you, my love, have a deep love for humanity. a commitment to bettering the world is very significant here. you've distanced yourself from society, in a way, but you still want people to bloom. you are wise beyond your years.

but that doesn't mean that you have to be so strong all the time. it's alright to break down and cry. you don't have to be the parent, you don't have to carry all this weight on your shoulders. i promise you, the universe/God will listen to all your burdens. cry. speak to whatever you have faith in. cry again. i feel like a lot of you just need to blurt out whatever you're feeling so you can understand what you feel. whisper at night, write it down in a journal, speak to the stars, speak to a person. you are so treasured. a lot of you feel like you have to perform for others. everyone's always watching you, watching you, for a stumble. you MUST let go. stop caring what others think. they ain't gonna like you if they ain't like you already. their opinions don't matter. you have a voice that could start wars, and the right people will stand behind you and not betray you. there are still good people out there, and for your situation, YOU MUST UNDERSTAND IT IS NOT ALWAYS GOOD TO BE BY YOURSELF. being alone is good, for self-reflection...being alone because you're scared of opening up is bad. you see people as weapons, weapons of love and pain--look at them as people. honey, you are so wise, but sometimes, simplicity is the answer.

a lot of you have to be strong right now. everyone's watching you--you're the star of the show, to God, to higher beings, to the people in your life. be confident; you are in this beautiful role for a reason! dance, be yourself. people's feelings will reveal themselves, if you feel as if there are liars or untruthful people in your life, a lot of the things you're worrying about will reveal themselves to you. you just have to accept your beauty and work on your self-love. a lot of you doubt your own self, and you have an awkward perception of yourself as a person. kick yourself out of this state, and look at yourself, baby, you're the whole bag of cookies and MORE!! you're a damn deal! you're gorgeous, beautiful, smart! read those affirmations. do the work. you'll be a-okay, honey!

[deepspacenova]

something that is both heartwarming and heartbreaking about Caleb is the way he consistently continues to fight his fate, despite every sign he encounters pointing toward its inevitability:

it's in the way he defies the Toring Chip, and the meaning of 7%

When Caleb falls apart on the bench with MC and the chip resets in Farspace Bloomfall, 100% of his mind is supposed to reset.... and yet only 93% of the chip is integrated and able to do so.

We know Caleb is aware of this too, when he tells MC to tell him about her problems “while I can still respond.” Because he knows he'll inevitably lose some information once it happens, like the 'patrol data' Enforcer mentions.

This means it’s happened before, Caleb's mind had been reset before. Which means, he knows if the chip’s integrity ever gets to 100% and resets, anything he feels toward MC will also reset. And so..

“���he’s purposefully ‘sealed’ his brain rather than damaging it.”

So Caleb gathered up every emotion, every memory, and every impression of MC in his mind, wrapped it all together into one small piece, and has since, against all odds, continuously used his Evol to put a barrier around it, to protect it. To keep the chip from finding it and wiping it. And what is that piece? That 7%?

7% is MC. 7% is his memories of MC. 7% is his love for MC.

it's in the way he's turned himself from "perfect weapon to destroy each other" to "perfect weapon to destroy others"

I could be wrong (please correct me), but I'm pretty sure it's murky right now whether Caleb (subject 002?) knew MC during any of her 'incarnations' in the lab and/or their purposes to be a killswitch for each other. But if he does know or remember any of it, the protection of that 7% from the Toring Chip becomes even more vital and strategic as all hell.

Because that would mean Caleb orchestrated a situation where he's become the lab subject, a decoy in MC's place as they try and correct the chip within him.

And that would mean that Caleb planned for them to "sacrifice a great deal to obtain him," — apparently, so much that they're unwilling/unable to simply dispose of him when he's resisting the very thing that would seal his fate as "the key", as MC's killswitch.

and it's in the literal beat of his heart

when you lay your hand over caleb's heart to hear his heartbeat, no matter how fast that beat starts out, if you hold your hand there long enough, his heartbeat inevitably tapers into a calm 50-60.

Despite all he's doing to preserve that 7%, he can't fight the nature of the other 93%. The nature of the chip and it's purpose to keep him in an emotional stasis.

His excitement to see you, his happiness to have you there, the fluttering of his heart? Those are abnormalities to the chip, those aren't in line with what that stasis is supposed to be. And so... no matter how quickly his heart beats for you initially, it inevitably gets suppressed.

We see how it affects other members of the Fleet too. How all of them have accepted the inevitability of the chip. Tuum Officer No. 6025 and Liam in particular shows us exactly what it looks like to give in.

And yet, every time you come back, Caleb's still excited, Caleb still fights it. He's fighting it with only 7% of his memory, he's fighting it with every quickened beat of his heart.

If the chip is a tether, if his fate is a tether, Caleb will never stop sawing at the strings, and i am not okay about it.

blame for any and all crash outs can be directed to @solifloris and @starmocha, who have managed to make my "down bad" for caleb turn into "sick to my stomach with eternal devotion"

[thatnonameuser]

What would malleus/sebek/silver do if MC said they don't mind them, but Lilia makes them super uncomfortable? Let's break up a family 👐

So you know how some terminal momma’s boys are completely and utterly blind to whatever their spouses go through despite the fact that they are vocal about how clearly uncomfortable they feel because of how their in-laws treat them? And when they’re confronted with the Ultimatum of ‘it’s either them or me’  and It’s kind of like that.

Insert the dilemma.

First, Malleus would not take your ultimatum well…

Malleus loves Lilia and asking him to let go of his only remaining living parental figure, who might I add was the one of the two major triggers to his overblot, is going to send him into an emotional turmoil that’ll go over as well as a hurricane that rains fire. 

He would do literally anything to make you love him in turn, nothing was impossible to him. But much to his This is impossible for him. Either he picks you and has to lose his father, or picks his father and has to lose his chance of having your love back. His horn could be chipped or completely intact, regardless the weather is going to be gloomy for a few weeks as he mulls over his decision. 

He’ll try to argue some compromises. Compromises like ‘Lilia still travels for long periods, so you won’t have to deal with him everyday’, or ‘He’ll make sure that you don’t interact’ but as you refuse him more and more, sticking to your guns, he starts to feel very powerless because he can’t choose either of you. 

Until he isn’t. 

Let’s not forget Malleus is the fourth strongest mage in the world. That comes with the disadvantage for you of him being limited by only his imagination. If you won’t be happy with him if Lilia’s around, why not just get rid of that problem by, simply, erasing your discomfort from your memory?

Then he wins and has the best of both worlds, you and Lilia and no more of that unnecessary choice. Isn’t that great?

Silver’s a little worse off here, having to pick between the fae that raised him, who up until you he loved more than anything in the world; and you, the person he loves more than anything in the world and will continue to love more than anything in the world. 

Obviously, he’s going to be upset. Not angry, just upset. Being forced to pick between his father and you is a choice he doesn’t want to make, because he loves you both and doesn’t want to lose either of you. 

So insert common gaslighting technique called ✨Downplaying ✨

Listen, Silver is a green flag yandere that’s slowly turning into a red one. But if you put him in the middle of a war between having an unwilling you and his dad or having a willing you alone, he’d rather have both instead of one. 

So instead of picking sides, he’s going to justify it by saying that it’s not as bad as you think it is. Lilia’s the one he went to about advice for wooing you, so whatever his father is doing that creeps you out Silver will justify that it’s just Lilia trying to help him show his love for you. He’ll make excuses for his father all day long if he has to, Silver’s not giving up either of you if he can help it. 

Oh, and by the way, he’s going to tell Lilia about this. Expect that Lilia is going to be less hard on you, not just because Silver asked him to but your cooperation makes Silver happy, so he’ll give you that inch. Don’t try to take the mile. 

Sebek isn’t upset, more outraged.

His utmost respect for Lilia makes him believe that he knows best, so the fact that you’re discomforted by his presence to the point where you don’t want to be around him is a sign of disrespect so blatant that he can’t stand it. 

Strap in for a 2+ hour lecture about you should be honoured to be even his presence, because who do you think advised him on how to give you the love and respect (within the already too broad yandere boundaries but still) that you deserve. 

Look, Sebek is aware of your discomfort. If it’s so bad that it’s something that’s going to threaten your relationship together then, he will separate you in a way you might not like.

That is him locking you in his dorm room, and not letting you out. You won’t be able to interact with Lilia if you can’t ever be in the same room as him. And while he’s going to hate doing it, he will bite his tongue and ask Lilia to stay out of his dorm just to make you happy. 

Bonus~

Lilia thinks that your attempts at getting rid of him are amusing. He knew they were never going to work, they tell him about everything and when they’re too blinded by their love for you to actually take you for themselves he helps them with that too.

So obviously when they came to him for advice, or rather raving about how disrespectful you were being for Sebek, about how you were willing to be with them if he wasn’t around, he would of course give them whatever advice they’d need.

But for once, Lilia doesn’t feel as if this is something to punish you for. You’re young and since you don’t mind being around them if he’s not there, perhaps it’s just because you’re hoping for a different type of love to bloom. And what would be the point of all his efforts if he didn’t give you time alone for a garden to be seeded. 

Of course, he’ll advise his boys as such and he could stand to travel again, to give you and whoever you were paired with the privacy you needed, but don’t expect him to never return. He wouldn’t mind returning to the sound of a newborn crying.

[anistarrose]

Really Small Problems starts with King's bread puns, so obviously, it's already crucial to the emotional arc of the finale. But knowing that the Titan was watching that day, do you know what else the Titan must have noticed, and how that makes the finale so much more impactful?

[ID from alt: King talking to a disguised Tibbles, then Luz kissing King on the forehead after they reconcile. End ID.]

In the episode, King gets used as a pawn by Tibbles — who preys off of King's desire to spend time playing with Luz — and as a result, King puts Luz and her friends in a lot of danger. But Luz, while initially angry, realizes that King was being manipulated, not malicious — and at his absolute worst, just an irresponsible kid who really wanted to spend time with his friend — and she reconciles with him, leading to their bond becoming stronger than ever before.

But hey, for no particular reason, remember what the Titan's greatest regret was, again?

[ID from alt: a projection by the Collector, of the Archivists reaching out to the Collector, then a projection of the Titan glaring menacingly. End ID.]

When the Collector was being used as a pawn by the Archivists, who were the ones who really killed all the Titans, King's dad didn't realize the truth until far too late. Rather than talk to the Collector and try to understand, let alone reconcile, Papa Titan lashed out at the Collector for their perceived betrayal — imprisoning the Collector, thereby plunging him into traumatizing isolation, for millions and millions of years. It's the Titan's worst mistake. The Collector didn't deserve anything like that — the Collector was just a misguided little kid. But the Titan had let his rage consume him. And now, slain by the Archivists, the Titan can no longer undo her mistake.

So... fast forward to when the Titan's own kid has finally hatched, and started to grow up. The Titan sees his kid make a friend in Luz, whom the Titan already likes, because she was kind to King and respectful to the Isles. But then — the Titan sees her own kid do something misguided. The Titan sees his own kid put his friends in danger. Only... instead of fallout from Luz's feelings of betrayal, the Titan sees Luz actually reconcile with King. The Titan sees Luz recognize that King didn't want to hurt anyone. In other words, the Titan sees Luz avoid repeating the Titan's mistake.

Of course, dealing with Tibbles is far, far lower-stakes than dealing with genocidal Archivists. But what the Titan sees is Luz proving that she can be levelheaded, and forgiving, and most of all, trustworthy with the challenging decisions that the Titan himself has messed up before. Luz finds her last two glyphs rapid-fire after this episode, after the first two were comparatively slow-going. She still has to work for them, by being attentive to nature and to magic, but that change in pacing isn't a coincidence. The Titan is selective about who can be trusted with glyphs — but Luz earns that trust. By being kind to King, first and foremost — but even more specifically, by extending understanding and forgiveness, instead of blame, to a child who had just wanted to play.

And that all culminates in why the Titan trusts Luz to wield the full power of the Boiling Isles in the finale. It's why the Titan believes Luz is a genuine and kind person, who can defeat Belos by force without ever being or becoming as bad as he is — because Luz does give people second chances, and resolve things non-violently, when people aren't as malicious or set in their ways as Belos is. Because Luz gave a second chance to King, and even gave a second chance to the Collector — thus, doing what the Titan couldn't. The Titan trusts Luz not to give into destructive, punitive options — neither killing, nor imprisonment — unless there is truly no other option, in which case killing Belos isn't punitive or retributive in ideology; it's just self-defense.

So, when the Titan makes some of her final words a bread pun, it tells King and Luz and the viewer so much. That the Titan was watching the whole time — but that the Titan was watching Really Small Problems, specifically. That the Titan watched King mature, and the Titan watched Luz forgive him. The Titan watched and made reference to a story about second chances and reconciliation working — because they do work, most of the time, and the fact that Belos is the rare exception is crucial to the message of the finale.

And in a more meta, ironic way — yet one that I'm sure the writers were aware of — the Titan was even watching what some fans called a "filler" episode. But Titan cared so much about Luz and King's development within. And what a brilliant way to tie the whole show together! What a good tribute to the value of gradual character development! And to rewatching a show with fresh eyes, now metaphorically from the Titan's perspective!

It changes everything. It makes you appreciate Luz and King so, so much. It's such a subtle, beautiful writing choice. And the Titan is such a beautiful character. Really Small Problems is not a skippable episode. It always had good character development, but the way it's utilized and recontextualized by the rest of the narrative is nothing short of brilliant.

[httpvomitello]

Yk I never see any fics where the reader is Snape's kid, could you do a George x Reader where she's Snape's daughter?

Well, now you will have one fic about that. I hope you like! ~ ♡

Love and Mischief ｡*･ﾟﾟ

Summary: Y/N Snape is a proud Gryffindor, much to her father’s disappointment, and she’s been dating George Weasley in secret.

george weasley x f!Gryffindor reader

Hogwarts had always been home to you, but it was a complicated one.

Most students had parents who sent them letters of encouragement or care packages filled with sweets.

You had Severus Snape.

A father who barely acknowledged you in public. A father who scowled every time he saw you wearing your Gryffindor scarf. A father who still couldn’t comprehend how his own daughter had ended up in the enemy house.

And, to make matters worse, you were dating George Weasley.

Not just dating—in love with him.

It had started in your fifth year, a slow, teasing friendship that turned into something more. George had a way of making the castle feel a little less suffocating, a little more like home.

The only problem?

Your father would absolutely murder him if he found out.

"You know," George whispered, his lips brushing against your ear as he pulled you into a hidden alcove. "For someone whose dad is a master of deception, you’re absolutely rubbish at sneaking around."

You smacked his chest lightly. "Excuse me, I’m very sneaky."

"Love, you tripped over a suit of armor twice last week."

You groaned. "That was one time—"

"Twice," he corrected, grinning. "And you practically shouted my name when I kissed you behind the library."

You blushed. "That’s your fault for being good at it."

George waggled his eyebrows. "Can’t argue with that."

Before you could respond, the sound of footsteps made both of you freeze.

Your heart dropped as a familiar voice rang through the corridor.

"Miss Snape. Out after curfew. How very disappointing."

You turned slowly, your stomach twisting as you met the dark, piercing eyes of your father.

George, to his credit, remained perfectly still, though you could feel the tension in his body.

Professor Snape’s gaze flickered between the two of you, and your heart pounded.

Please don’t let him put the pieces together.

Please don’t—

"Ten points from Gryffindor. Each," Snape said smoothly, his tone unreadable. "Go back to your dormitories. Now."

You let out a quiet breath of relief and grabbed George’s arm, practically dragging him away before your father could change his mind.

But as you walked away, you felt the weight of Snape’s stare burning into your back.

This wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

It turned out that your father didn’t need to put the pieces together.

Because Fred, bless his heart, was an idiot.

"I don’t see what the big deal is," he said over breakfast. "Snape’s bound to find out sooner or later. Might as well just tell him and get it over with."

George snorted. "Yeah, mate, and while we’re at it, why don’t we just hand in our next prank to Filch and save him the trouble?"

"Wait—" Ron, who had been shoveling eggs into his mouth, suddenly looked up. "Snape doesn’t know? I thought he did."

Hermione huffed. "Obviously not, Ronald, or we wouldn’t be having this conversation."

Ron grimaced. "Yikes. That’s gonna be bad when he finds out."

The when turned out to be immediately.

Because the moment Ron spoke, the entire Gryffindor table went quiet.

And that’s when you realized why.

Your father was standing right behind you.

You swore the entire Great Hall held its breath.

Slowly, you turned to face him.

"Professor," you said weakly.

"My office. Now," Snape said, his voice dangerously low.

And with that, he turned on his heel and stalked out of the hall.

You barely had time to glare at Fred before scrambling after him.

The moment you stepped into Snape’s office, the door slammed shut behind you.

"George Weasley?" he spat, as if the name itself was offensive.

You crossed your arms. "Yes."

His expression darkened. "Of all the students in this school, you chose him?"

"I didn’t choose anything," you shot back. "It just happened."

Snape exhaled sharply through his nose. "He is a menace. A troublemaker. A Weasley."

You bristled. "And he’s also kind, and funny, and smart, and—and I love him."

Your father flinched, as if the words physically hurt him.

"You don’t understand," he said quietly.

"Then make me understand," you challenged.

Snape studied you for a long moment. Then, finally, he sat down, his expression unreadable.

"When I was your age, I… cared deeply for someone," he admitted. "And I lost her."

Your breath hitched. He didn’t have to say her name. You knew exactly who he was talking about.

"Losing someone you love is—" His voice faltered for the briefest moment. "—unbearable."

Your anger softened. "Dad… I know you’re trying to protect me. But George isn’t like that. He’s not going to hurt me."

Snape’s jaw tightened. "I do not trust him."

"You don’t have to trust him," you said. "But you can trust me."

Silence stretched between you.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Snape sighed. "I cannot forbid you from seeing him," he muttered. "But I will be watching."

You grinned. "Wouldn’t expect anything less."

He rolled his eyes. "Get out of my office before I change my mind."

"Well?" George asked as you stormed into the Gryffindor common room. "Are you still alive, or should I start planning my funeral?"

You smirked. "Oh, he still hates you."

George sighed dramatically. "Tragic."

"But," you added, stepping closer, "he’s letting me stay with you."

A slow grin spread across George’s face. "So you’re saying I won?"

You rolled your eyes. "Let’s call it a draw."

He laughed, wrapping his arms around you. "Fine by me, love."

And as you leaned into him, safe and warm in his embrace, you knew one thing for certain:

No matter what your father thought, George Weasley was worth it.

[zigdirty]

First and foremost, the commentary that tribalism is bad and it should be actively discouraged is 100% the correct perspective. Infighting amongst factions is and always will be the downfall of any major civilization. And tribalism has a nasty habit of leading to segregation and fascism.

But something that needs pointing out here is that you cannot selectively isolate specific examples of tribalism to vituperate.

Your original TWO posts specifically isolate people on the left and their apathy towards innocent suffering on the right. I'm sure it's because this hit so close to home, but that doesn't excuse making an entire thread to only underscore one side of the problem which exists on all sides.

The whole "drinking liberal tears" mantra is STILL prevalent today, and that shit started way back in 2015. That's a decade of the right literally reveling in the misery of their perceived political opposition. Where was this mentioned in your post about calling out tribalism out loud when you see it?

I legitimately had a right-wing dumbass on Reddit two days ago respond to my rebuke of their horrible commentary on a post with "cry about it" and there was no shock, no revulsion, and no other replies calling this person out for their piss-poor behavior. That's normalized for the right at this point. It's almost expected.

And therein lies the problem: by selectively only chastising one side, you're actually further feeding into tribalism, you're giving it fuel to burn and spread further. It's a double-standard and it's incredibly divisive and dangerous.

Everyone should be held to the same standards of empathy and compassion. Everyone should be scolded when they find glee in the suffering of innocents. Everyone. You can't selectively blame one group or one side when both sides are guilty, especially when one group is actually much more likely to engage in tribalism and enjoy the suffering of their opponents.

Please continue to call out tribalism and defend the innocent when others claim to enjoy their misery. Don't stop. But also make sure that you aren't doing so in a way that's one-sided. And always ensure that you don't even imply that something is acceptable in some cases because it is normal for a group. Standards should be the same for all groups.

Also, this blog does fully empower adults to make their own decisions. They should have that right.

BUT those same adults also should then deal with the consequences of their decisions. Period.

Adulting is hard, but if you want that freedom of choice, you also get the results.

(The problem I regularly have is that the "adults" who typically are the loudest and most opinionated often have a terrible combination of: the WORST opinions and beliefs; and the LEAST maturity to actually manage the fallout if they end up getting what they claim to want. These same "adults" regularly cause the most collateral damage, and that is where I draw the line. You can make whatever choices you want to fuck up your own life and future, but the moment your bad decisions impact anyone around that is uninvolved and therefore innocent, your "freedom" as an adult to make choices and speak your mind ends in my book. Other people shouldn't suffer because of someone else's idiocy.)

liberals are dunking on the 40 people who died in the tornadoes this weekend because Trump was golfing and cut NOAA and their states voted for him. great stuff. it's a good thing to them when children get crushed by a tree falling on their house while they're asleep in their beds because the State of Missouri voted for Donald Trump. i'm glad that people like you are forming the resistance by popping bottles when my neighbors die. what the fuck is this kind of discourse?

[transfemme-shelterdog]

man the hatred that TRFs show for masculinity is fucking insane bc. like. obviously this hurts transmascs and queer mascs everywhere, but they know that, that's their express goal... but like... it hurts transfems too?

and when you say that then they accuse you of being transmisogynistic which is crazy bc like. i do not pass. i am also soft butch which is a friggin nightmare combo bc it means on first impression people think I am a cis man! all of these transfems saying things like men dni or that men are evil or whatever the fuck would see me, a trans woman, on the street, and hate me. and transfems aren't always necessarily feminine.

they're hurting everyone with this shit, bc the intent is not to uplift transfems, it's to uplift them and theirs. themselves, the people they identify with, and the people they're attracted to. some people gotta stop seeing trans rights and feminism as their fucking middle school clique i think. any end goal, any final structure you're planning for society with one group at the top over everyone else is a bad one. they can't pretend to be doing this for their sisters. they're doing it for themselves. and so they're allowed to still be the bully and feel good. anyone who isn't a transfem lesbian who agrees with them is out, and is fair pickings. whether or not they're transfem. they don't care.

(also obviously transmascs are incredible and handsome and we should all be hanging out and fucking hugging and shit :P )

idk it is a little depressing. idk how you are so willing and open to exposing yourself to it and fighting it so much and so constantly but it's great that you can and you do, because this shit is so horrible. transmascs having to deal with this within the trans community too is absolutely awful. keep friggin fighting the good fight!

It's very much a case of "I hated masculinity forced on me, so I'm gonna make that your problem" and that's toxic as fuck for everyone involved. Like yeah, I hated it too. That doesn't mean I'm not gonna celebrate the changes that my husband gets for himself, that I absolutely despised in myself. Because he's not me, and that's ok!

I'm able to put up with this shit and keep arguing with people who hate trans men simply by knowing that I am superior to these people. I'm better in every way, and they're simply dirt beneath my feet. They don't matter, they're scum, and I'll treat them accordingly. I will always be better than them, and they know it. That's how I'm able to keep fighting.

[marginofthought]

hi queennn, i’m experiencing some drought can u recommend some extremely good wincest fics that u LOVE pretty please? 🫶

This is probably really disappointing because quite frankly I have not read much lately (or this year) But here are some that I had bookmarked that I honestly do not remember right now, so I am trusting past me. Also, these are not close to canon so be warned if that is what you are looking for:

Five Conversations Dean Doesn’t Have With His Brother About Their Wedding + One That He Does by Dyed_Red: "I made you a promise in that church" ends up being a lot more literal than Dean had realized. How exactly does one tell their brother they're married?

To Hell and Back sadly orphaned: Dean's deal is seven months from coming due when he finds out that Ben's really his kid. They take Ben in, because Winchesters never leave family, not if they can help it. So they get out of the hunting life and settle down. Only problem? Dean's started to fall for Sam. (definitely not for canon loving peeps)

Not My Heaven by FictionalNutter: Follows Dark Side Of The Moon. Sam doesn't understand what was wrong with his Heaven, and Dean is struggling to trust a brother who so clearly didn't care for his family. After hurtful words are exchanged and Sam leaves, Castiel finds himself explaining exactly how Heaven should've been for the Winchesters, and Dean realizes that he and Sam truly need each other.  The Dean/Sam is more implied than anything else, based on the concept that they're soulmates. So, this isn't proper Wincest, but it can easily be read that way if you're looking for it.

At Dawn A New Sun Rises by vaelaerion: Since he presented as an alpha at fourteen, Sam’s always felt a disconnect with his dynamic. He’s kept it a secret from most, along with a few other things—especially from Dean. One night Sam wakes up alone in an alley with no idea how he got there, only to discover the following day that he’s not an alpha anymore—he’s an omega. Now everything Sam’s tried to keep hidden slowly starts to unravel.

Show Them Our Bones by Writerforthem: It's been a long time since things were this bad between them. Since the last time Dean decided he didn't give two shits about what Sam said. It's bad enough to make Sam cringe now, wondering how he'll ever get on Dean's good side again. If that's even possible. How does one say 'Sorry, I didn't rescue you from Purgatory'? You don't, he thinks to himself. Finding an empty house in the woods where hikers have been disappearing might not be the best place to finally clear the air, but it seems as if they won't have much choice once Sam gets taken and Dean is faced with just how bad Sam is dealing with their current conflict.  (→  I do remember this one and I love it)

If You're Warm, Then You Can't Relate To Me by gothpandaotaku: Post S10E22 The Prisoner. "You know what I think? I think it should be you up there." The words keep running through Sam's head, like a song on repeat. The worst part is, he agrees with Dean. It should be him up there. How the hell is he supposed to tell Dean he's

[little-mari-on-a-roof]

Frenglish differences in Miraculous - Episode 9

Evillustrator/Le Dessinateur

The French title is "Le Dessinateur", which simply means illustrator. There's no pun in it, as opposed to "Evillustrator".

Hawkmoth

En: Ah! Artists can be so emotional. I love it.

Fr: Ah, les artistes sont tellement sensibles. C'est une cible parfaite !

Ah, artists are so sensitive. It's a perfect target!

Aren't YOU also supposed to be an artist, Gabriel??

Hawkmoth asks his akuma to "draw him [Nathaniel] into our evil web" in English. In French, he says "accomplis mes noirs desseins", which means "carry out my dark plans", and is also a pun. Indeed, the word he uses for plan/intentions here is "dessein", which sounds exactly like the French word for a drawing : un dessin.

Hawkmoth to Nathaniel when akumatising him

En: Are you tired of having your creative spirit crushed? Evillustrator, I'm your friend and a patron of the arts. I'm here to offer you support.

Fr: Cela ne te dérange pas que ton talent ne doit pas reconnu ? Dessinateur, je suis le Papillon. Un grand amateur d'art. Je viens te proposer mon aide.

Doesn't it bother you that your talent isn't recognised? Dessinateur, I am Hawkmoth, a lover of the arts. I come to offer you my help.

Chloé to Miss Bustier, about Marinette

En: Uh, Miss, can't you add her to another group?

Fr: Euh, Madame, vous pourriez mettre "celle-là" dans un autre groupe ?

Miss, couldn't you put "that one" in another group?

Chloé refers to Marinette in a very rude way here.

Alya calls Sabrina and Chloé "that twosome of terror" in English. In French, she says "ces deux pestes là" : "those two pests".

Chloé to Marinette

En: Later.

Fr: À plus, boulet.

Later, boulet.

Here, Chloé once again refers to Marinette as a "boulet" (see The Bubbler for the explanation of the word).

In the library after Evillustrator has left, Ladybug groans at Chat Noir's pun in English but not in French.

Ladybug

En: Sorry, I'm just a little camera shy.

Fr: Désolée, je suis un peu allergique aux selfies.

Sorry, I'm a little allergic to selfies.

Chat Noir to Ladybug

En: So what's the deal? Why are you acting so weird? Come on, you gotta admit that having this girl worship you is pretty awesome.

Fr: Bah quoi, où est le problème ? Pourquoi tu le prends comme ça ? Avoue que c'est plutôt flatteur, non? Cette fille est complètement fan de toi.

So what, where's the problem? Why are you taking it this way? You have to admit it's pretty flattering, isn't it? This girl is a complete fan of you.

Tikki to Marinette when she gets mad about Chloé

En: Well, simmer down. A hot head isnt going to get you anywhere.

Fr: Calme toi Marinette. Ça sert à rien de s'emporter comme ça elle en vaut pas la peine.

Calm down Marinette. There's no use getting carried away like that, she's not worth it.

Yes Tikki drag that girl in the mud.

Chloé - Chat Noir

En: Are you any good at particle physics? - Oh, this cat's got particle physics in the bag.

Fr: Est ce que, par hasard, tu t'y connais en physique ? - Oh, la physique c'est ma matière préférée.

Do you, by chance, know anything about physics? - Oh, physics is my favourite subject.

Adrien is a nerd!! Another thing that's interesting to notice is the fact that the French dub only always says "physics", meanwhile the English dub translates it to "particle physics".

Chat Noir to Marinette

En: Well, that birthday boy date of yours is bad news.

Fr: Je suis ton cavalier pour le bal de ce soir, Princesse.

I'm your escort for tonight's ball, Princess.

The French word he uses to say he's her date is "cavalier", which literally means knight and is rather old fashioned. Basically, he's trying VERY HARD to be a handsome gentleman. He then calls her Princess again when leaving her (he instead says "Little lady" in English at that moment).

As opposed to this cute nickname (Princess), Marinette calls him "ce gros matou" : "this big tomcat". (In English, she just says "this boy".)

Chat Noir - Ladybug

En: Well, well, look what the cat dragged in. - No cat dragged me anywhere, Cat Noir. I flew in all on my own.

Fr: Ah bah tu t'es enfin décidée à venir. - Tu sais bien que j'étais occupée, Chat Noir. J'avais une mission top secrète.

Well you finally decided to come. - You know that I was busy, Chat Noir. I had a top secret mission.

Her top secret mission was actually teaching him how to do his job to get them out of the glass cage.

[42ap]

If we go with a genderbent AU, for some reason, Ford would undoubtedly have a much darker personality—and would be an absolute hardcore lesbian (?). Unlike the original version, where Ford leans more toward asexuality, in this AU, she’s always been clear about liking women. However, since she doesn’t like most humans in general, she rarely interacts with people, so whether she’s actually dated anyone is debatable.

All I know is, if the original Ford could hold a grudge over Dream School for forty years, a female Ford, who had to grit her teeth to do research at a second-rate school in an era of even worse gender inequality—plus the fact that she has six fingers and is a lesbian—would have a vastly different personality. A true ghostly figure, pure dominance.

Stanley, on the other hand, would feel like a lively and charming bad girl. She still carries the trauma of being kicked out of her home and the whole “possibly murdered my own sister” situation, but if we’re just talking about pretending to be her sister’s widowed wife, she doesn’t see it as a big deal. To her, it’s just a funny misunderstanding and a little joke. But when Ford returns and reacts intensely, Stanley, for the first time, realizes that maybe this is actually a serious matter—and starts feeling a little guilty about it. Meanwhile, the small-town widow persona, the sharp-dressed seductress that blends seamlessly with Gravity Falls' residents—who truly understands the weight of this identity? And who can resist the possessive, utterly dominant ghostly sister who has her little sibling wrapped around her finger?

And—if female Stanley still keeps her habit of wearing loose, revealing clothes without a care, then for Ford, this would be an unending hell.

Honestly, I feel like in a genderbent AU, arguments between them would actually escalate into Ford deciding to “hate-fuck” her way out of the problem—deliberately finding the right moment to sleep with her.

[bitchinbarzal]

It’s Just a Car | Just Fine AU

Kaia’s hands were still shaking when she pulled into the driveway.

Not from the impact—because, really, it hadn’t been that bad.

A fender bender. Some distracted guy on his phone who hadn’t noticed the red light.

The kids were fine.

She was fine.

But Clayton’s precious car?

Not fine.

She had never even driven it before. Clayton was so particular about it—only he touched it, only he drove it, only he washed it.

But the SUV had been at the shop for routine maintenance, and Weston had spit an entire pouch of applesauce all over himself at daycare, and she had been in a rush, and it was just sitting there in the garage.

So she took it.

And now?

Now there was a massive dent in the back bumper, a scrape along the passenger side, and she had zero plans of telling Clayton about it.

Not while he was on a road trip.

Not when he couldn’t do anything about it anyway.

She’d just get it fixed before he got home, and he’d never have to know.

Problem solved.

The Plan Was Going Great… Until Elodie Ruined It

Clayton called like always, FaceTiming from his hotel room, still in his team hoodie, looking tired but happy.

“Hey, Bug!” he grinned, adjusting the phone. “Hey, buddy!”

“Hi, Daddy!” Elodie beamed, climbing up on the couch, Weston wiggling excitedly beside her.

“Did you guys have a good day?” Clayton asked.

“Yeah!” Elodie nodded, kicking her feet. “But Mommy crashed your car.”

Kaia, who had been walking into the room with Weston’s bottle, froze completely.

Clayton’s smile dropped immediately.

“She what?”

Elodie didn’t even notice the way Kaia went stiff, didn’t notice how Clayton’s entire expression changed, didn’t notice how Kaia’s eyes went wide with pure panic.

“Yeah,” Elodie continued, completely oblivious, bouncing slightly. “It got all squished in the back! But it wasn’t her fault, someone else hit her.”

Kaia squeezed her eyes shut.

Clayton was staring at the screen, voice sharp now. “Kaia.”

Kaia swallowed hard, forcing a tight smile as she gently pried the phone out of Elodie’s hands. “Hey, babe.”

“Don’t ‘hey, babe’ me,” Clayton snapped. “What the hell happened?”

“It was just a fender bender,” Kaia said quickly, trying to downplay it. “Everyone is fine, I promise—”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Kaia exhaled slowly, shifting Weston on her hip. “Because I knew you’d freak out, and I didn’t want to stress you out while you were traveling—”

“I don’t give a shit about the car, Kaia!”

Kaia flinched slightly, because she hadn’t expected that.

Clayton ran a hand over his face, taking a deep breath, his jaw tightening. “You got in an accident with our kids in the car, and you weren’t going to tell me?”

Kaia shifted uncomfortably, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I didn’t want you to worry.”

“Are you serious?” Clayton snapped, disbelief clear in his voice. “Kaia, you—” He stopped himself, exhaling sharply, his frustration bubbling over. “Are you okay?”

Kaia blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“Are. You. Okay?” Clayton repeated, voice quieter now, but still firm.

Kaia hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah, I—” She stopped. Because she wasn’t okay, not really.

She had been panicking since it happened, worried about how she’d fix everything, how she’d hide it from him, how she’d make sure the kids weren’t scared.

But she hadn’t stopped to think about herself.

Clayton must have seen it in her face, because his entire expression softened slightly, his voice not as sharp now.

“Kaia.”

“I just didn’t want you to stress,” she whispered, voice a little shaky now, noticing how tight her chest felt. “You always worry when you’re on the road, and I thought if I just—” She exhaled slowly, shaking her head. “I thought I could just fix it before you got home, and it wouldn’t be a big deal.”

“It is a big deal,” Clayton murmured, not angrily, but firmly. “Because you could have been hurt. The kids could have been hurt.”

Kaia swallowed, shifting Weston slightly. “But we weren’t.”

“That’s not the point, Kai.” Clayton’s voice was softer now, but still serious. “I don’t care about the car. I don’t care if it got totaled. I care about you. I care about Elodie and Weston. And I hate that I had to hear about this from our four-year-old instead of from you.”

Kaia exhaled slowly, guilt settling in deep now.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I just… I thought I was doing the right thing by not making it a big deal.”

“Baby, you don’t have to handle everything on your own,” Clayton sighed. “You don’t have to protect me from stuff like this. You are the most important thing to me. You and the kids. Nothing else matters more than that.”

Kaia bit her lip, looking down at Weston, who was clutching her sleeve, completely unbothered by the tension in the room.

“I won’t keep something like this from you again,” she whispered.

“Good,” Clayton murmured, squeezing his eyes shut for a second, trying to calm himself down completely. “Because I’m booking a flight home tomorrow.”

Kaia snapped her head up. “What? No, you don’t have to do that—”

“I want to,” Clayton said firmly. “I don’t like being away from you guys when shit like this happens. I’ll talk to coach, but I’m coming home.”

Kaia sighed, knowing there was no point in fighting it.

“Okay,” she murmured.

“Okay,” Clayton repeated, running a hand through his hair, exhaling slowly. “Jesus, Kai. I really thought you wrecked my car and just didn’t want to tell me.”

Kaia let out a weak, breathless laugh, finally letting herself relax a little now that everything was out in the open. “I mean… I did. I just also happened to have our children inside it at the time.”

Clayton groaned, dragging a hand over his face. “Never touching my car again.”

Kaia smirked slightly, finally starting to feel normal again. “That’s fair.”

“And next time, you tell me when something happens, got it?”

Kaia nodded, softer this time, more serious. “Got it.”

Clayton let out a deep sigh, shaking his head. “Damn Elodie, man. She can’t keep a secret for shit.”

Kaia laughed, finally feeling the tension ease.

“Nope,” she agreed. “And honestly? I’m kinda glad she didn’t.”

[pintrestgrl]

WHEN THE PARTY ENDS ’

summary — theodore is slowly losing himself after breaking up with reader, and only she can help solve the problem.

based on this ask

warnings — alcoholism, underage partying, toxic relationships, throwing up, suggestiveness, angst, fluff if u squint

a/n— i kinda hate this but let me know if u guys enjoyed n want more

you had noticed. noticed theodores steady decline since you two broke up. you wouldn’t ever admit it, but you always would keep an eye on the boy. you truly cared about him. you probably always would. you knew things about him that nobody else ever would. about his relationship with his father, about how he deals with his mothers death, all of which he buried deep down.

you broke up for a number of reasons. you two argued a lot, often too alike and mutually headstrong for your own good. you could admit to your faults. you often fought fire with fire, throwing harsh words his way at the drop of a dime. you would gey made easily, jealous, upset. theodore thought you were too good for him, and you thought you weren’t enough for him. there was a lack of communication, too. mostly from theodore. he never learned how to do all that relationship stuff, anyways.

you started putting together the pieces when you saw his tired eye bags one day in class, the type he got when he was hungover. but then they started showing daily, and more prominently. and sometimes, when you would walk past him in the hallway, you could smell the alcohol on him. smell the bad decisions.

but tonight, it confirmed all your suspicions. you had gotten to the party, not expecting to see theodore there. he knew he couldn’t talk to you, at all. and god, did that kill him. he had to take what he could get, eyeing you from across the room the whole night instead. you couldn’t stop yourself from keeping an eye on him, considering his behavior lately.

you tried to brush it off as just him partying like everyone else, but you did notice how he was going overboard with the alcohol. everytime you looked at him, which was often— he was taking another shot of fireball. throwing back glass after glass of the dark liquid. it wasnt until you noticed his behavior, that you began to worry.

you could read him well, maybe almost too well for your own good. you knew exactly how he acted when he was drunk, and when he was wasted beyond return. right now, he was absolutely plastered. he was being more crude, more aggressive. holding on to the bottle like it was his dignity.

he also hadn’t gotten off that couch once since you arrived, so clearly he was here for one thing only. alcohol.

you tried to shove it off your mind, push the pull of him away from you, and ignore it. but you couldn’t. not when he had the same pretty look in his eyes as he did when he was looking at you.

you wouldn’t ignore it.

you pulled yourself up out of the couch far away from his, walking over. you came in front of him, in his eyeview, and it was like he died and came back to life. he almost looked at you as if you were life itself. you spoke. “theo— you’re drunk.” he rolled his eyes, laughing humorlessly.

“yeah? since when do you give a fuck, hm?” he smirked. you knew he wouldn’t be talking like that if he wasn’t drunk. in fact, he probably wouldn’t be talking at all. he hadnt been social with anyone since the breakup. “stop acting like that. c’mon— get up.” he seemed hesitant, staying seated for a moment before you spoke again. “please.” you muttered under your breath. you didnt like begging. he knew that.

he rolled his hazy eyes, getting up clumsily. you grabbed his shoulder to steady him, feeling him tense up under you. you saw him regain his balance, letting your hand drop. “c’mon.” you mumbled, letting him follow from behind you. you two desperately tried to squeeze between the party space, theodore grounding himself with his hands on your waist; a choice of sheer necessity. or at least that’s what he’d tell himself.

you eventually made it to the door of the room, leading him outside. his hands embarrassingly dropped from your sides, as he looked down. he followed you, biting his nails on the way. you still made him nervous, even if he didn’t wanna admit it.

he really looked at you, now. analyzed you. you looked the same, nothing much had changed. just as pretty as when he left you. unaffected. like it didnt even bother you. he envied that. he wanted to be like that. but instead, he was slowly crumbling in on himself. he truly was lost without you. he had given up the one thing that kept him sane.

you eventually came to a door, and he recognized it as his. “you have your keys?” you asked. theodore answered with a shrug, watching you roll your eyes as you checked his pockets for him. god, he could barely even stand. you suddenly found his keys, sitting in his back pocket. you opened his door for him, letting him follow. this room was so familiar to you. you and theodore had spent countless nights here, countless days. you shuddered the feeling away, turning to theo and getting him to sit down on his bed.

he had a record playing, it was an old song. you recognized it. ‘mio amore’ by the flamingos. he always liked that song. you searched around his room for some water, finding a plastic bottle and handing it to him. theodore looked fucked. his hair was messed up, skin pale, eyebags heavy. you felt almost, bad for him. you heard him speak. “why are you even here?” you bit down nervously on your bottom lip, shrugging.

“i knew you probably wouldn’t make it home by yourself.” he laughed, genuinely. that was the first time he did in a while. “and that bothered you?” he asked. you smiled, nodding. this felt so good to him. like he’d been deprived of food for months, and just got a taste of it. it felt like how you two used to be, when things were good. they had known eachother since first year. they had lost their virginity to eachother. he couldn’t forget her. he wouldn’t. he was too attached.

“y/n?” he spoke, you looking up at him. waiting for him to continue. “i feel really fuckin’ nauseous.” you quickly shot up, grabbing his wrist and practically dragging him to the bathroom. the last thing you were gonna do in this boys room, was be thrown up on.

you watched him kneel over the toilet, deciding to sit on the tub next to him. he sat there for a minute, before he eventually threw up. you instinctively rubbed his back, but quickly retracted your hand once you realized what you were doing. you couldn’t do that anymore. you weren’t together. you handed him a water bottle, watching him chug it down.

he leaned his back against the wall, his breathing returning back to normal. his head dropped to his hands, chest rising and falling. “you okay?” you asked, left with no answer. he felt close to you, sitting right at your feet. maybe a bit too close. you were lost looking at his hair, before he spoke. “can you sit with me?” you nodded, moving to sit across from him on the bathroom floor. the cold tile against your bare legs made you shiver.

he finally looked up, and something was off. he looked, upset. almost like he was close to breaking. close to giving up. “theo, what’s wrong?” you asked. and it was like he shattered. he started to break down, crying into your arms. your brows furrowed, hand stroking his back as his forehead rested on your shoulder. “i just— i really fucked up. bad.” you frowned, looking down at the boy who was once your everything.

“everything’s shit since we broke up, amore. i’ve become a shitty person.” he spoke. you sighed, rubbing his palms. you knew him inside out. how to calm him down, how to make him mad, how to keep him sane. “you’re arent a bad person theo. truly, you aren’t.” he shook his head, hands shakily grasping yours. grounding himself.

“i miss you so bad, cara mia. i regret it every day. im sorry— im so sorry.” he spoke, crying into your chest. “it’s okay, theo. please dont cry.” you spoke, lifting his head from your chest, holding his face with your palms. you looked at his face, analyzing it. he looked hurt. deeply hurt.

you knew you’d probably regret it, but you kissed his forehead. right on his temple. “im sorry too. okay? c’mon theo, let’s get you to bed.” you murmured, him nodding. he took your hands off his face, holding them in his own. he pressed gentle kisses along the ridges, looking at your eyes just like how he used to. when you meant everything that ever mattered to him.

and maybe that was because you still did. you stood up, him following suit. stumbling just a little. you guided him to his bed, laying him down. he groaned, sighing. you watched as he sat up, pulling the black polo off his body. you spoke, “you feel better?” he subtly shook his head, not even bothering to answer.

he laid back down, his hair looking messy, eyes tired, a fucking mess. you dimmed the light by his side, his eyes eye level with your lower half. you were about to turn to leave, before you felt his hand reach out. pulling you by your hip. “can you stay?” he slurred out, you replying with a sigh. “theo— we cant.” he quickly shook his head, speaking. “no— no—- god, not sex, y/n. just stay with me. please.”

you rolled your eyes, sighing again. “i dont have clothes.” he shuffled, pulling a basket out from under his bed. he set it on the bed, pushing it to you. it was filled with your stuff. your pajamas, makeup, shit you had left here. if you didn’t understand theo, you’d probably think it was creepy. but you knew he kept it for reasons. reasons of his own.

“fine. whatever.” you murmured, sliding the skirt and top off your body, putting on the pajamas. it was barely even nighttime wear; a pair of panties and a tank top. he zoned out on your body. he hadn’t seen it in so long. he liked you better bare. you climbed into the bed, laying next to him. he spoke, “can i still touch you?” you shrugged, biting your lower lip. “yeah— i guess. but we aren’t fucking.”

he quickly nodded. he threw a lazy arm over your stomach, hand splayed out across it. he kissed the spot underneath your ear, the warmest spot on your body. he knew that. you laid like that, willingly. with him. because part of you did love him still. no— all of you did. inside and out.

and you swore, before you felt him fall asleep, you heard him whisper that he loved you too.

tags— ( comment if u wanna b added, or taken off )

@lacehartz @battybaby111 @maybanksangel @kittyreposts @littlelamy @theeternaloptimistt @enchantedstarfish @iwishiknew-69 @heavenlyangelbaby @rafesdoe @whinyangel @lanaslushworld

[do-androids-dream-ao3acc]

I Didn't Know How To Love You (Ch. 2)

[Chapter 1]

❗Mentions of suicide (non-graphic, and nobody gets hurt). For those sensitive, please proceed with care.

Read below or on AO3.

Thinking about Tommy has never been Buck’s problem, quite the opposite. He’s studied recipes, worked overtime and exercised harder because he needed the distraction. Because he needed to prevent his thoughts from spiraling around questions he probably wouldn’t like the answers to. It’s still hard to switch off his thoughts as he drives home from Hen and Karen’s, their words are living rent-free in his head now.

He steers the jeep almost mechanically through the night, wondering if his brooding will start all over again. It’s a depressing thought, somehow. Buck has spent days, weeks even wondering if it all had been his fault, whether the simple offer to share a household sounded too much like an invitation to share a life. It had been easy to convince himself that that was exactly what had put Tommy off. Tommy had never held his dreams and whims against him, but this was something big, an idea too much out of the blue. It's just… maybe there wasn’t any hidden agenda in Buck’s question that night, but he had been able to imagine it. All for himself, in the back of his mind, and in bright colors even. Not the white picket fence and garden kind of dream, at least not in L.A. Just a future with somebody he liked, a lot. Somebody who wanted him and took him for what he was, with all his faults and quirks. It seemed such an innocent wish, so little to want, yet Buck knew it wasn’t.

So, life’s lesson repeated and Tommy left. Naturally, Buck assumed it was his fault. Whatever Tommy’s plans for the future were, they didn’t include him. Though it had not made much sense to him, neither the crack in his voice nor his words. “You'll break my heart,” Tommy said, and had instead broken Buck’s. It was the strangest, worst reason why anybody had ever broken up with him.

But if Hen is right – and Buck has no reason to believe she isn’t – Tommy's answer had little to do with his identity and everything with the fact that he’d been hurt. An universal experience that Buck shared and understood, but at the time, that evening, he’d done neither. Now, he was so plagued by guilt and doubt that he didn't know how to react. Buck’s the kind of person who prefers to deal with conflicts head-on rather than let them fester, not least because he can’t stand the thought of being the cause of someone’s distress. Was it anger at Buck that had kept Tommy from getting in touch? Or had his fingers hovered just as indecisively over the keys of his phone as Buck’s, consumed by a feeling that he had to make amends but couldn’t figure out how?

His thoughts aren’t getting him anywhere. Days of indecision pass, having Buck pondering about the best way to do something, anything. Work, at least, offers some kind of distraction. L.A. is still full of people jumping into empty swimming pools during nighttime break-ins or burning down fifty acres of parkland out of carelessness. Work offers stability, even without Eddie, though he’s missing the latter’s dry wit and their mutual, wordless understanding. They talk on the phone, but while Eddie reports on his tentative progress with his son, Buck remains silent about any thoughts he has about Tommy.

During work, Hen's clever, gentle eyes behind her glasses often seem to rest on him. He avoids her gaze as if it contained the question of a decision, yet Buck’s never been so indecisive in his life. It’s a strange day anyway. There’s a certain tension in the air, one of those days with high humidity and heat; the television blared warnings all morning, and everyone knows the city will go crazy. The silence in the fire engine seems palpable, forced even, as if everybody thinks that if they’d disturb it with so much as the clearing of a throat, it will jinx bad mojo. Not even Howie cracks one of his stupid jokes, instead he stares out the window, possibly pondering his future with two kids. It’s kind of humbling, the mere thought that everyone has problems is able to distract Buck from his own musings.

Bobby is wise enough not to break the silence with unnecessary instructions; they’ve all heard dispatch and will get the picture on scene. Police has been called to a mixed-use office building where an argument about water-saving devices apparently escalated, while temperature has reached 89.6 °F as early as 8:30 a.m. Typically for L.A., especially on a day like this, it wasn't just a small brawl between white-collar guys. For some reason, a fire had broken out, and now the 118 is approaching, blaring siren and all.

The brawlers turn out to be two women, one with tousled hair and a bruise on her cheek that only needs some ice – Buck notices Hen's almost disappointed look. But the other one has a torn skirt and a broken wrist, she’s standing at the side of the road howling like a puppy because they’re putting handcuffs on her.

“Good heavens, only cuff one hand and let the paramedics have a look on her,” someone snaps at a young police officer, and this someone turns out to be Athena.

“Nice to see you, Sergeant Grant,” Bobby says, raising his helmet mockingly.

Athena just gives a snort, brushing a sweat-soaked strand of hair out of her forehead.

“That’s Grant-Nash, Captain, you keep forgetting that and troubling my day even more?” She laughs, flashing her pearly teeth, but soon becomes serious again. “These two claim they’d nothing to do with the fire on the 26th floor, and on a day like this, even I'm inclined to believe in coincidences. But that’s for you to decide. All I know is that there are still people inside who called 911 as they fled to the upper floors. Luckily it’s still early in the day; apparently not all the offices were occupied yet.”

“All right,” Bobby replies with a final wink, then turns to his crew. His orders are brief and to the point, and everyone knows what to do. There’s no smoke billowing out of the upper-story windows yet, Buck observes, squinting against the sun as he stares upward.

Howie, as the most senior, is leading the vanguard today; while Bobby wants to have Hen on the ground, Howie, Buck and Ravi will secure the building. As they trudge up the stairs, chasing down a few office workers who apparently didn't take the police warning seriously, Buck wonders if Bobby now regrets turning down the Chief's offer this morning. Apparently, Eddie's departure was much more spontaneous than he's admitted, and now they’re short-handed. Many young people today seem more likely to pursue a career as an Instagram star than to serve the city in the fire department, despite Firefox's efforts.

“It won't be easy to fill the gap,” the Chief had said. Yet another overheard conversation, and again completely unintentional. As Buck walked past Bobby's office, just as he was coming out of the washroom, he heard their conversation because for some reason, Bobby had put his phone on speaker. “City has put us on a hiring freeze, as you know. You’ll have to work with stand-ins for a while. For today, I can order the 133 to lend you someone.”

However, Bobby’s declined the offer. Initially, Buck was fine with that, though his motives were probably less altruistic than Bobby's, who didn’t want to mess up everyone's roster. Buck, however, was not ready for anyone replacing Eddie, especially not a permanent one. Now, however, things look different. Bobby coordinates the operation from below, but his skeptical look tells Buck that he would rather plunge into the fray with his crew. He’s ordering reinforcements, but by now the morning rush hour is in full swing.

Despite everything, Buck enjoys the adrenaline rush of it all. This is more than a mere mission, it’s a way to feel alive. To feel like a part of something. His nerves are taut in a good way, like ropes on a pulley whose use serves a purpose. Every unclear situation offers a thrill, but right now, Buck has no idea how true this will turn out to be. Because if the last few months have taught him anything, it’s that the future is always uncertain. From one moment to the next, the world changes, focus disappears and plans fall apart. It's better to live in the present, and that finally includes smoke developing on some of the 32 floors they pant up in full gear.

“SCBA, guys,” Howie reminds them curtly, pulling his own mask over his head. His voice is muffled when he adds, “According to Dispatch, there are two companies on this floor, and the fire must have started here. Ravi and I will start extinguishing, Buck, you check to see what it looks like on the upper floors. Allegedly, the employees managed to evacuate the floor in time. Come back immediately when they are reasonably safe.”

Buck saves his breath and just nods; the attitudes of his younger self have largely disappeared, and he respects his brother-in-law enough to follow his instructions. He trudges up another floor, his panting booming loudly in his ears, tightly enclosed by his protective gear. The smoke here is not quite as thick, but it is still dense enough; Buck has to shine his flashlight to see that he’s on the 27th floor.

“LAFD,” he calls, “anyone up here?”

If they were smart, the employees would have run further up, maybe even to the roof. If they were even smarter, though, they would've turned downstairs, not upstairs to where smoke rises. But people in distress rarely think rationally. The fire alarm, which now only emits a vague blare, must have been very loud a few minutes ago. Buck has seen people so frightened by the sound alone, they kept running towards a fire instead of away from it. Once, a guy even openly admitted that he’d run to the roof because he hoped for an air rescue.

“Hello?”

The call echoes from the landing over Buck. Someone has opened the door to the hallway, a well-coiffed man in a gray suit; probably he’s usually one of those calm go-getters. Now, however, he peers down nervously.

“Is there anyone left on this floor?” Buck calls up to him.

“No, we're all up here,” the man replies. “Is there still fire?”

“Yes. Stay there until we give the all-clear. How many are up there with you?”

“About twenty, I think, and… the people from this floor’s companies. I’m not sure, actually. Everyone’s a bit nervous, though. Are we getting evacuated?”

“Sooner or later, sure, but right now…” Buck raises his hand as his radio crackles, gesturing for the man to wait. It's Bobby.

“118, we have new information,” he starts, but Howie chimes in, “So do we: fire’s as good as under control. Buck, how about the employees?”

Buck is about to press the button and answer when Bobby's voice clatters out of the device again, more urgently this time, “Hang on. Another emergency call has just come in. Apparently, there’s someone on the roof at risk of jumping.”

“On this building?” Howie asks incredulously, and Buck can't blame him. Bobby doesn't seem to believe it’s a coincidence either, because he replies, “Athena's checking for a connection to the fire and the argument between the two ladies, but that’s not our concern right now. Are there any casualties we need to deal with? Dispatch is arranging for a psychologist, but in the meantime we could...”

“I'm on it,” Buck calls into his radio.

“Wait,” Bobby advises. “I'm already on the fifteenth floor.”

Buck stops in his tracks. Of course Bobby would want to take matters into his own hands, protocol aside. A call like this strikes a particular chord in him, and it’s a tune he must follow. It's not because he considers himself an expert, an authority for people considering suicide – Bobby is neither megalomaniacal nor is he shallow. No, Bobby is driven by compassion, by an understanding that only people with the same experiences can feel. And at the same time, he’s the best proof of how people can rise above themselves and their trauma. Buck knows all this. And normally, when he thinks of Bobby, the father figure larger than his real father, he does so with his heart. Now, however, he thinks rationally, or so he believes. Taking two steps at a time, he rushes upstairs, where the guy in the suit stares at him wide-eyed.

“And I'm on the 28th,” he speaks into his radio. “I'll be on the roof in a minute.”

He squeezes past suit guy, slams the door shut and tears off his mask. Up here, the smoke is just a vague memory; the hallways are equipped with fire doors, and it can’t have been a huge fire.

“Go back to the others and wait for the all-clear,” he tells him, so hastily that his stress stutter doesn't stand a chance to evolve. “Keep this door shut. Firefighters are two floors below you, we’ve everything under control.”

The man, whose ridiculous moustache reminds Buck all too much of Eddie in his self-discovery phase for a moment, opens his mouth to say something. Buck won't let him. He slips out the door again and runs up the stairs to the roof.

It doesn't take a minute, even if Buck doesn't count. There are people who run up the 102 floors of the Empire State Building in 9.5 minutes. Such trivia distracts him long enough to steel himself for the view that awaits him at the top. The last two floors consist mainly of showrooms with huge windows, and at the very top, a narrow ladder leads to the roof through a hatch. Sunlight blinds Buck, but his gaze is magnetically drawn to a woman who seems to be floating in the air.

He pushes his way onto the roof, which is mainly a huge, gray open space. A bunch of buildings are taller than this one, but standing on the edge of the balustrade, it certainly gives the illusion of touching the clouds. It's just that the woman, a young brunette in a billowing cardigan that envelops her like a cape, isn’t standing at the edge of the roof with its wind vanes.

The top two floors are connected to the roof of the 30th floor with steel struts that either represent decorative elements or actually serve a structural function, Buck couldn’t care less. Some of these elements, however, extend a bit beyond the end of the roof. Whoever thought it was a good idea to put them up there in a way they could easily be climbed was an idiot in Buck's eyes. The woman is standing at the end of a narrow beam; it looks a bit like she is standing on the plank of a ship, only there is no one to keelhaul her but herself. She turns around as she hears the hatch slam onto the roof. Despite the distance – Buck estimates it at 15 feet, just under seven steps, if he's fast – he sees that she’s been crying, narrow black streaks from her mascara adorn her cheeks.

“Hey,” he says cautiously, trying to paint his voice in a tone that she won’t find threatening. “I'm Buck. Well, it's a nickname, maybe you have one too? What's your name?”

“Don't come any closer,” she replies, but she continues to look at him.

If she jumps now, there's no guarantee that she'll be killed instantly, and Buck wished he could make her understand this without scaring her away. The metal struts are anchored in the roof of the 30th floor, which forms a kind of surrounding balcony to that floor. If she falls onto it, from a height of around 25 feet, it does not automatically mean certain death. Even if she falls onto the balustrade. The vanes are turning violently to the northeast, which means that she would probably have to take a run-up if she wanted to throw herself off the entire building from here.

Buck doesn't want that. He doesn't want to have to explain to her how many bones she might break, how many organs she’d damage, and for what? She might end up still alive and with the same problems as before, plus a lot more on top. He doesn't want her to jump, because it might not end her life, but it would most certainly ruin it. Strangely enough, as he’s standing up here with the wind ruffling his hair, his mouth feels dry. Buck is rarely at a loss for words, but now he can't think of anything to say. He’s almost relieved when the hatch opens again. Bobby is panting quite a bit when he reaches the roof; once at the top, he puts his hands on his knees and takes a few deep breaths.

“Lady, I'm a little too old for this,” he gasps, Buck recognizes gravity behind his chatty tone. “I'm Robert, but everyone calls me Bobby. You look about the same age as my boy here, and you know what? If he were standing there, I'd have something to say to him.”

The feeling of being called my boy by Bobby, as if he were actually his son, tingles like electricity. It's like being struck by lightning again, only this time it doesn't hurt, yet a warm sensation remains.

“Can I come a bit closer?” Bobby asks.

“I don't know,” the woman replies defensively.

“That’s okay. Will you at least tell me your name?”

“Violet,” she says, as if she simply cannot escape Bobby’s sonorous voice.

“Violet,” he echoes, rolling her name over his tongue as if it were heavy, good wine. “Now I know two things about you.”

“Two?” she sniffs, carelessly wiping her nose with a sleeve.

“Yes,” Bobby replies with a smile. “Your name, and that you don't really want to jump.”

Violet stares at him in amazement, then she starts laughing. It's a sound interrupted by sobs, but it is genuine laughter. Buck fears that the wind and her laughter will blow her off the roof after all, but she stands firm, looking at Bobby.

“How would you know?” she asks, although her eyes show a glimmer of hope: she already suspects the answer.

“I'll be happy to tell you, Violet. But do me a favor and come down first, okay? You can stand at the edge of the balustrade if you like. I won't persuade you. But air support is to arrive shortly, and I don't want your decision to be taken from you, if you know what I mean. Wind's strong up here.”

“You requested AirOps?” Buck mutters under his breath.

Bobby turns his head to him and whispers, “There's still smoke covering at least one floor, Chimney reports, the vents aren't working anymore.”

Of course, she could be led down the stairs wearing Bobby’s or Buck’s mask, but that’s still 32 floors, and maybe Bobby's decision has something to do with considerations similar to Buck's. If Violet were to jump and be seriously injured, a helicopter might be her best chance of making it to the hospital in time. Right now, she no longer looks like she's particularly keen on throwing herself off the building; yet it's better to be safe than sorry, and it's Bobby's decision.

He continues to gently coax her, and Buck holds his breath. Even now, so much can go wrong. The wind is strong up here, and she might just slip. Or she could freeze in the grip of sudden panic; it happens quite often that someone who was just so determined loses their courage. But if Violet has lost anything, it’s only the will to die, at least here and now. She approaches Bobby slowly and cautiously, ignoring his outstretched hand. Instead, she crouches and awkwardly slides down to the relatively safe ground of the rooftop, just as the roaring of a helicopter’s rotors announces its arrival.

“There’s actually a chopper,” Violet says, almost reverently.

Her tone suggests that she’s mostly amazed by Bobby's honesty, which is quite sad, actually. It also reminds Buck that he, too, was once fascinated by these machines, if for a different reason. There was a time when he’d longingly watch the sky whenever he’d hear the familiar sound of rotor blades, always hoping that if Tommy was up there, he’d be safe. He’s since given up this habit, for obvious reasons, but appearances can be deceptive. Because as the helicopter door swings open with the last slow rotation of the rotor, his heart skips a telltale beat.

[dropintomanga]

Naming Bad Emotions For the Better

Coming off a very funny and charming story in Tatsuya Endo's Spy X Family Chapter 112 where Anya Forger manages to stop a fight between two boys in her class and getting their attention, Damian Desmond notices the three of them together and starts to feel jealous. This confuses Damian because of his own feelings for Anya and his two closest friends, Emile Elman and Ewen Egeburg, start to wonder what's going on. Damian ends up having a nightmare in which he's fighting his jealousy to no avail. Damian, afraid to put himself out there about his problem, pretends that an imaginary friend of his is dealing with jealousy and asks Emile and Ewen for advice, which leads for the two of them to be jealous of the imaginary friend.

Emile and Ewen consult Mr. Green about how to handle jealousy. Mr. Green tries to tell them to separate themselves from their jealousy or just be upfront about it. Emile and Ewen can't do it, so Mr. Green says that jealousy isn't exactly a bad thing. It can motivate someone to be better. But even if that doesn't work out, Mr. Green points out that if jealousy is really bugging the boys, they should name it and give it an identity. After doing that, the boys should just notice and acknowledge the thought of jealousy in their mind without fighting it.

Fans of Spy x Family know that Damian DEFINITELY has a thing for Anya despite her ridiculous behavior at times. The trouble with young boys is that they aren't taught on how to handle emotions or address them in a well thought-out manner. A big reason for this is that men at a young age are told to forge ahead without discussing their own feelings. Another thing to consider is the subject of intrusive thoughts. Jealousy can be intrusive if you let it bother you to a huge degree. Mr. Green provides realistic advice on handling intrusive thoughts. Don't deny that they're not there or else they will come back. Have a conversation with your thoughts and just say "Oh hey there, I notice that you're trying to tell me something. You know what, I hear you. So let's make peace about it, okay?"

Emile and Ewen tell Damian about Mr. Green's advice. And Damian takes it to heart. He has a dream where he ends up accepting and shaking the hand of the jealousy that was bothering him. I discussed Mr. Green years ago, so it's nice to see more relevant wisdom from a still-great manga for fans of all ages.

Emotions of all kinds definitely are spies in their own way, but more importantly, they're a part of your inner family and need to be accepted as such.

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

⏲️⏲️⏲️⏲️⏲️⏲️⏲️⏲️⏲️⏲️⏲️⏲️⏲️⏲️⏲️⏲️⏲️⏲️⏲️⏲️

60 for ⏲️:

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“Well,” Buck shrugs. “Your reaction really hurt because I love you a lot and you’re so great and attractive, and I’m a loser about you, too.”

Eddie smiles. “So you really do forgive me? You’re not just being weird?”

“Oh, both,” Buck answers. 

“I can live with that,” Eddie nods. 

“So?” Buck prompts. “Gonna just stand there all flustered and handsome, or…”

3:15pm

The problem is that, whether on good or bad terms, Buck drives Eddie absolutely crazy. No good sense left, after dealing with him. That has always been true, even before Eddie understood the depths of his feelings for him. So now? Understanding them? Having them returned? Having been miraculously forgiven? Yeah, sense went out the window a while ago. 

This is how and why Eddie finds himself almost certainly violating a slew of workplace guidelines for personal conduct. He can’t even be bothered to worry about that. And when it comes to his own behavior, Eddie has always been a worrier. 

He and Buck are on the floor of the damned supply closet, making out. Eddie thinks this must be how his dream last night started, because he is feeling all those same feelings. He is just as loose and full of abandon, while simultaneously being very hard and desperate for more. 

“I’m so glad you’re not straight,” Buck murmurs between kisses. His hand is cupping a healthy serving of Eddie’s ass cheek. 

“I’m so glad that I know I’m not straight,” Eddie agrees. 

“Oh yeah?” Buck teases, pressing into Eddie to cause the exact right kind of friction. “This feel better?”

“God, yes,” Eddie manages, despite his brain experiencing serious dysfunction. 

“You gonna forget where you are again? Like you did this morning?” Buck taunts. “Be all horny where you shouldn’t?”

Eddie is not far away from coming in his pants like a teenager, so yeah. He probably already has forgotten where he is. 

“You gonna tease me or are you gonna make me forget?” Eddie fires back. 

Evidently, this was either the exact right or exact wrong thing to say. Buck takes to the challenge like fuel on a fire. He grabs Eddie tighter, manhandling him with ease. He flips them over, so Buck is the one looming over top of Eddie. He’s completely in charge now. Eddie feels like goo underneath him, pliable and melty.

“I’ll make you,” Buck rasps, smirking. 

“So shut up and do it,” Eddie begs. 

He doesn’t know why he’s insistent on egging him on like this. They’re at work. They’re going to be in deep shit if they’re naked and messy when the alarm goes off. Not that it seems to be doing that today. The people of Los Angeles should crash more cars. Keep Eddie out of trouble.

Buck reaches for Eddie’s belt, and Eddie feels like he’s on fire in the best possible way. He feels like this is the only moment in time that has ever or will ever exist. Nothing else infiltrates his brain. He is just here. Just now. Just him and Buck and whatever it is Buck plans on doing to him.