#But frankly she did the healthy thing by leaving them instead of trying to fix them

[stories-of-the-multiverse]

((Still feeling salty so!

Gonna say this, if you hate Lilith for leaving Adam and Lucifer, guess what, you're misogynistic as fuck.

Oh how dare a woman refuse to stay with a man who has no respect for her body autonomy nor a man who grew to stand against everything she stands for!

Clearly she should have stayed to teach them better and do all the emotional labor for them, yet she valued herself more than she felt responsible for their emotional growth, the cunt!

Eat my god damn ass-))

[bobbydagen24]

I'm sorry but Honestly I think Band Together was the worst in Terms of Poppy's Development and overall character.

the fandom acts like she's Grown from the past two movies and shows it in this film when she Honestly doesn't when you Really think about it imo.

her big arc in World Tour was learning to listen to other people and how they feel yet at the start of TBT she's trying to encourage Branch to open up to her about his negative feelings

only to then ignore and downplay his feelings when his Brothers turn up again instead instantly taking their sides and trying to Defend them and then doesn't Respect Branch's feelings and manipulates him into reconnecting with them

which later Results in him getting emotionally Hurt again arguably worse than before since this time the Brothers were legit cruel and spiteful towards him.

all of which could be fine ya know its a character arc I Guess except Poppy never admits to being wrong about her narrow point of view she never apologises for her disregard of Branch's feelings

and in the end she doesn't learn a lesson and instead Branch comes around to her way of thinking by accepting his family back no questions asked

and no Doubt will continue to let them mistreat him whenever they feel like it because he's well and truly had his sense of self respect beaten out of him over the course of the film.

people act like her going after him following the argument and reassuring him she won't leave him shows her Growth when yeah its a nice scene but frankly its also her own fault

she literally caused him to get hurt again by pressuring him to give his Brothers another chance when she knew nothing about them and Branch wanted to maintain a healthy emotional distance so he didn't get hurt again because he knew they were unreliable.

so Poppy really is just fixing the Damage she herself played a part in causing in that scene and as I said she never actually admits to being wrong in how she went about things

nor does she apologise instead the movie acts like Branch needs to come around to her way of thinking so Poppy gets validated in the end even tho the move does everything in its power to show she was wrong in her views on family.

its just a muddled message tbh like world tour at least had characters outright call her out on her behaviour as being wrong TBT never did that.

so this Honestly is the worst version of Poppy imo as she behaves badly throughout the film and never gets called out on it or learns anything from it.

she was probably best in the first film because her behaviours and actions were mostly understandable

and she didn't only support Branch after playing a major Role in causing him great emotional pain due to ignoring his feelings.

she was legit more supportive in the first movie at least following that whole Bunker stunt she did early on but that was still kinda understandable logic wise.

[sallysellsseashellssundays]

Disclaimer: This post is going to be Anti Moffat for anyone who’s reading and is a fan you’ve been warned.  

“The Wedding of River Song” is the thirteenth episode and aside from being a boring episode it was, unfortunately, also my least favorite season finale.

The Good: I haven’t watched Classic Who, but I do know the Brigadier is a very important person in the Doctor’s life and I saw his character in one of the episodes of The Sarah Jane Adventures. Having his death in the show to reflect that of the actor’s was incredibly beautiful, and I liked that it seemed to be the moment the Doctor realized it was his time reminding me a lot of Ten and Wilf. The different settings where time is happening all at once looked really cool, and there were some funny jokes especially with Emperor Churchill.

The Bad: I think the reason I feel like I don’t know Amy and Rory that well is b/c instead of developing them as characters for two seasons now we keep getting fake/different versions of them, there’s always a plot twist of “oh actually that wasn’t the real version of them” and frankly it’s tiring. This finale felt like a rehashed poorly done version of previous concepts. All the “voices” saying they’ll help reminded me of everyone thinking of the Doctor at the end of S3, and the different realities reminded me of the end of S5. The Doctor leaving Dorium’s head again in that place was horrible, why not take him to his home or at least some fancy hotel? 

The River storyline being the absolute worst:  That comment about how River spends her days in prison and her nights with him was disgusting, if she didn’t really kill him why on earth is the Doctor making sure she’s serving time?? The fact that we’ve seen her slip in and out of prison easily so many times leads to the horrifying implication that the Doctor just takes her out whenever he pleases like she’s some sort of...idk but that was awful. I genuinely did go into Moffat’s era trying to keep an open mind when it came to her character b/c I was under the impression it was going to be an interesting love story with their timelines not matching. But this has fallen apart in the most horrible ways with everything regarding River seemingly being tacked on w/o any actual thought. How in the world did River convince Ten to trust her in the library? He said that she knew his name, but here he didn’t actually tell her his name...unless later he tells her to fulfill that paradox. But even then I really thought that he would grow to love her in his own way, but the way he treated her here was awful “I don’t want to marry you” and “you embarrass me”. The fact that she loves him when he acts like that with her is probably my least favorite thing Moffat could have ever done. On that same note River saying no one loves the Doctor more than her would feel far more impactful if we actually saw them interacting more in a healthy way, instead we’re just constantly told that they are going on trips and we’re to assume they enjoy spending time with each other when on screen I’ve never once gotten the sense that he actually cares for her. She wanted to rewrite time itself instead of killing him which I suppose I could understand her doing if they’d had a more believable love story, but her relationship with him seems more obsessive and toxic than anything. She knew them touching would cause time to move forward and fix itself, but she wouldn’t allow it until he married her essentially blackmailing him. And Eleven only marrying her to whisper his escape plan seemed horribly manipulative as well, it’s obvious it matters far more to her than him and for him to play into that obsession seems really dark. And I’m not even sure if that counts as their wedding if he didn’t tell her his name? I don’t know enough about the lore, but I was under the impression from the library episode that it was a requirement. 

The Unresolved: Apparently there’s a bigger story to tell with the Trenzalore stuff.

Overall I feel disappointed, I have now watched six series of DW and my biggest concern is that I was so unbelievably bored during this episode and several others in this series. The Doctor telling Churchill how everything played out felt like someone was reading the script out to me instead of me watching things play out on screen. I had a really rough time getting through these episodes, but I’m still staying optimistic that it was a dud and next series is better. I think the thing I feel the saddest about is that I don’t find myself loving the characters as much as I used to in the past, Amy has really grown on me, but even then I don’t feel the same attachment I do to the other companions I’ve seen.  

[highfaelucien]

I completely agree with how you feel towards azriel. Thinking about azriel’s character now vs how I used to view him during acomaf times is just... sad and so so so much more complex. Part of me still wants to love him for the character that was presented to us in acomaf and other small good moments, like his friendship with nesta. And then the other part of me is disgusted, disappointed, and honestly kind of terrified of who he may become if sjm allows him to continue acting predatorily/toxic. The whole mor/az situation really fucked me up. As someone who is also a lesbian and an abuse survivor, it broke my heart to watch the situation unfold in acowar. It still hurts seeing many readers (and sometimes even sjm) take az’s side and paint mor as some sort of liar/two faced character that is playing everyone. I kept thinking that things would be fixed in future books, but instead az has grown worse and mor was, once again, sidelined and written out as a character. And honestly... as much as I love the idea of gwyn x azriel ... I think his books would need a lot more focus on his own recovery/growth and not center on a romantic relationship. If anything, I hope it’s written as friends to lovers so az has a better way of interacting and forming relationships with women. Because right now... well, that shit is borderline predatory and isn’t coming across well. And I really really do not want that for him. Basically, azriel deserves a better arc than what has been written for him. I miss him :( he used to be a character that made me feel safe and now :/ idk anymore

I'm going to quote parts of this/chop it up and reply to them a chunk at a time. because there's a lot going on here and I want to try and reply to as much as I can because I resonate with.....all of it. Please forgive me for the length of this.

I completely agree with how you feel towards azriel. Thinking about azriel’s character now vs how I used to view him during acomaf times is just... sad and so so so much more complex.

He feels like a different character? There was always an anger simmering under the calm surface, we knew that. But it was an anger born of love, deep down, and the desire to protect his family, and his court, at the expense of himself. Az was always the first to volunteer himself for dangerous missions, to spare the others.

Now that anger is directed at his family, and at the world, for not giving him what he feels he 'deserves'. That has NEVER been Azriel. Azriel's deepest issues and insecurities have always stemmed from the feeling of being unworthy, and undeserving of anything.

She's just made him into......Every other dude in this series tbh. Snarling, and possessive, and wanting to fuck anything in a skirt that moves.

Azriel was actually somewhat of an original, complex character initially. It's unusual that we see trauma affect men in the way it did Az. Usually it makes them angry, and vengeful, and eager to prove they are the alpha etc. Seeing them withdraw, and think less of themselves/that they're unworthy is something not explored often enough. But bye bye nuance hello #Drama.

Part of me still wants to love him for the character that was presented to us in acomaf and other small good moments, like his friendship with nesta.

I feel this. I found a lot of comfort in Az's character. Particularly the way he reacted with Mor. I was a big fan of their relationship, and I wrote a few 'missing scenes' style fics in the gap between ACOMAF and ACOWAR. One of them was where Az went to her when she had pushed everyone else away, including Cassian, and comforted and calmed her.

I hate that Maas took that away from Mor. I hate that Az no longer does that for her. I hate that Az was the one to betray her along with Rhys and bring her abuser into her safe space behind her back. I hate that he is no longer a symbol of calm, stable, dependable comfort and support for Mor, but is instead a threat. I HATE it.

Every now and then Az has lovely, gentle moments - his friendship with Nesta is a good example, and something I hoped we'd see. But also quieter times with Rhys, and their similarities being explored. And I adored the flying lessons with Feyre in ACOWAR, and the training he did with Cassian and the others in ACOFS.

But then she goes and twists him and does something else that just makes me want to fucking scream. Like the High Lord scene where he 'frightened' Mor. And his entire POV chapter which is frankly fucking gross.

And then the other part of me is disgusted, disappointed, and honestly kind of terrified of who he may become if sjm allows him to continue acting predatorily/toxic.

I agree.

I don't know how she can write a series that explores the effects of emotional abuse so well with Feyre and Tamlin...And then write what she did with Az?

The possession to a traumatised, still impressionable and desperate young woman, who likely finds the same comfort and safety in him that Mor did. Before that got shot to fucking pieces.

He sounds like a whiny toddler 'Cassian has a mate, and Rhys has a mate, where is mine!?!?!?!?' I DESERVE Elain, because I'm your brother and you guys have her sisters and what the FUCK. Who let that shit get published holy mother of god.

It's just...It's so unhealthy? Like, not even talking ship wars here (which I'm aware are rampant, and which I'm trying my best to stay away from). But that just.

How can that ever be a healthy foundation for a relationship? A man who thinks that he deserves, not only to be in a relationship with her, but to be bonded to her. Not because of HER, not because of who she is, or how she makes him feel. No. Purely because her sisters are mated to his brothers?

The whole thing made me feel so uncomfortable. It's predatory and toxic, just as you said. It's not right, it's not fair. Forget alliances and Lucien, even if none of that was a factor, that sort of thinking is still not right. And it's completely unfair to Elain.

But it also just. It didn't read like Azriel. The first part, where he struggles to sleep, and pushes himself until he passes out, and the insight that his shadows are basically hovering beside him screaming SELF CARE YOU DUMB BITCH at all times was very pleasing.

And the part where he goes to Clotho and leaves an anonymous gift for Gwyn. No fanfair. No audience. No pressure on either of them to react/perform. That felt like Az, too.

But everything in the middle. Everything with Elain, was just...Gross and out of character. And this is not because I dislike E/riel as a ship. I could get on board with it, tbh, if it wasn't written the way it was.

But it's not about ships, for me. It's just. Everything felt out of character. The predatory way he was with her. The fact he lies awake and gets himself off to fantasies of her. How apparently quickly he was aroused by putting a necklace on her. Idk, maybe it's my ace ignorance, but that doesn't sound normal/healthy to me.

Nor does him having to leave a room because he can scent her mating bond with Lucien. Or not being able to control himself to sit and eat dinner with her?

This is the same dude who has, apparently, been in love with Mor for 500 solid years, and who never did a damned thing about it. Who always kept himself in check. Even while she's had other lovers. But he can't control himself through one dinner with Elain?

It just. It doesn't feel like him. It feels like...Honestly not even Cassian. It feels like Tamlin on horny, predatory steroids. And that's not something I ever wanted to see from Azriel's POVs.

She could have explored a darker side to him without making it sexual? And misogynistic. And having him treating Elain as little more than a fucking object that he feels entitled to because 'everyone else got one, where's mine?'. What the FUCK???

The more I write it the more angry I get.

Because SJM has consistently put Az in the position of saving women when they were in danger? He was the one who found Mor near death at Autumn. He was the one who rescued Gwyn from her attackers during the war. He was the one to retrieve Elain when she was taken.

She always puts him in this position and, for better or worse, presents him as a safety figure for these women. The first person who they saw come for them, and fight for them, and protect them.

And on the inside she makes him this vile, predatory monster who just thinks constantly about fucking them? Who isn't actually safe at all?? It's sad. And it's infuriating. Because this isn't about ships anymore. This is about female survivors who have an apparent safe person who's presented as almost as dangerous as the people who attacked them in the first place. And that makes me feel so sick and sad that we've gotten here.

It still hurts seeing many readers (and sometimes even sjm) take az’s side and paint mor as some sort of liar/two faced character that is playing everyone. I kept thinking that things would be fixed in future books, but instead az has grown worse and mor was, once again, sidelined and written out as a character.

This is yet another vile thing SJM has done to queer readers with this whole fiasco. Because it puts me in a position where I want to call out her shitty writing, and what she's done to Mor - sidelining her as soon as she became queer. Undermining her power and her strength. Undermining her role as the survivor to look up to. Saying her power is truth but then making her seem like a liar. Which is all shitty, shitty, shitting writing.

But I'm also a queer person. And I will always always ALWAYS want to defend a queer person's right to remain closeted. Regardless of their reasons for doing so. But in this case it's a concern for their safety/a fear of how those around them will react. And I will NEVER condemn that. I will never say Az is suffering more than Mor for her being closeted. I will never call Mor a liar/a manipulator/two-faced when all she's doing is trying to survive.

I WILL condemn SJM for making this a scenario. For putting homophobia in her world purely to cause pain for queer characters, and drama for her straight ones. And for sidelining Mor as soon as she can't write graphic scenes with her fucking men because now she's a lesbian so we best get her off the page so the guys can get their cocks out some more.

And honestly... as much as I love the idea of gwyn x azriel ... I think his books would need a lot more focus on his own recovery/growth and not center on a romantic relationship. If anything, I hope it’s written as friends to lovers so az has a better way of interacting and forming relationships with women. Because right now... well, that shit is borderline predatory and isn’t coming across well. And I really really do not want that for him.

This is going to sound sarcastic but I actually mean it fully and completely genuinely: 95% of the drama inducing problems in this series could be fixed with some fucking therapy.

But I agree with you. I think it's high time Azriel worked on his own issues. Even if they've apparently made a complete 180 from what they were in ACOMAF.

I...Like the concept of Gwyn/Azriel, but I'm not sold on the ship. Not with the way Maas has been writing Azriel lately. That kind of man shouldn't be with any woman right now. But especially not a rape survivor who sees him as one of the first men she's been able to trust in a long time.

Basically, azriel deserves a better arc than what has been written for him. I miss him :( he used to be a character that made me feel safe and now :/ idk anymore

"he used to be a character that made me feel safe" - This shit hit me like a tonne of bricks because this is EXACTLY how I feel about Az, too. You just managed to say it in a few words instead of 12 pages of rambling, like I do.

And I think this was intention. Azriel was presented as a very dependable character. He rescued Mor, and was respectful enough to keep his distance, despite his feelings, for 500 fucking years. Because he didn't think she was ready/interested.

He had a very calm, and calming air about him. Always in control of himself. Without the expected bursts of aggression and temper we'd seen from...Every other male character in this series. He was stable, and solid, and that was comforting. An anchor. And someone who would quietly, and without fuss, seek out Mor/others when they needed someone to talk to or comfort him.

That was a very soothing, reassuring presence in the book, I felt. And now she's made him seem...volatile, and unstable. With this dangerous anger that he can't control, that he uses not to protect, but to intimidate, and to fuel his entitlement and desires.

it's just sad. It's sad that she's taken this away from Mor, but also from other survivors who found comfort and safety in Az. Because I'm sure we weren't alone in that regard.

I miss him. And I mourn the character he was, and feel anger for the character he should have been. but instead he's become yet another possessive, entitled, snarling cardboard cutout dude like...everyone else.

And I ache for the Az/Mor dynamic that we had in ACOMAF. Even without it becoming romantic, there was no reason for that to be destroyed/ruined.

She could have written it that Az is the only one who knows about her sexuality, and that he pretends he's still in love with her as a shield/buffer, so no one looks too closely/to protect her and make her feel comfortable.

Instead she turned it into a soap opera style drama. And wrote it almost as though her sexuality was her cheating on him? Denying him what he deserved. And now she's just...just pussyfooting around it. And apparently he's just. Just moved on. Without them having any kind of conversation or closure at all. He just wanks off to the thought of Elain instead of Mor, now, problem solved /s

I miss what they were. I miss what he was to Mor. I miss when she had that support system, and that safety net. I miss when he protected her. And looked out for her. And understood her in a way that no one else, not even Rhys, did.

Mor deserved that. Azriel deserved that. WE deserved that. And she nuked it for some fucking twisted drama that punishes a lesbian because a man is thirsting after her. it's a fucking disgrace. I'm so fucking done with SJM, y'all. So fucking done.

[mshermia]

Christmas Eve - At Peace

That holiday-themed story that I will totally blame @superherotiger for making me procrastinate with ;)

###

Just a couple of months after they defeated Thanos, Tony and Pepper throw a Christmas party. Instead of a partying kid, Tony finds his Spiderling outside in the snow at the grave he has been trying to ignore ever exists.

I'm using my own Fix-it to Endgame "Like You'd know how it works" as a basis for the timeline, though the prompt will work fine without having read that story. The important part is, that Tony's not dead.

Baseline: circa 5 months after Tony is brought back from the multiverse.

###

The sky above him was clear. No clouds. No moon. Above him only the stars. The stars, he still avoided looking at too much. It made the night a little colder, a little darker despite the white snowy blanket covering the hills and trees.

It wasn't that Tony minded the solitude, quite the opposite. That had been the idea behind moving out to the cabin after all. Peace and quiet. Less exposure. Privacy. But of all the places on their property, why did the kid have to go there?

In all fairness, there was nothing quiet or peaceful about what was going on at Tony's house right now. There were 13 people gathered in his living room and kitchen, one of them a black-eyed alien who didn't quite understand the concept of Christmas but had been positively eager to experience all the "merriment and joy" that the little Madame Secretary had been promising from afar. Leave it to Tony to have to explain a spaceship landing in his backyard on Christmas Eve and talk down an international response.

"Morgan said it's an important gathering that every family member is obligated to attend." Nebula's eyes were on Tony, unblinking. "You should have told me sooner. I could have been here last year and the year before but I didn't know."

"Not to worry, Smurfette." There was a sense of genuine joy at seeing her again, that let the smile on his lips come quite easily. "You're here now, so that's that."

It was a sight to be seen how willingly the blue meanie allowed Morgan to put a party hat on her before she was sent off to mingle with the rest of them, studying the mini hot dogs on her plate. That hadn't been the only surprising sight of the evening though. Tony's jaw had equally popped with stunned surprise as he opened the door to a paler and distinctly shorter human version of Bruce Banner. A face Tony hadn't seen on him in years, as he showed up on his doorstep accompanied by a certain master spy that Tony had frankly not been expecting either.

"Making things work then," Tony mused out loud as he hovered next to them while Pepper fetched a welcoming drink.

Bruce cleared his throat. "Just... you know... happy to... to have her back."

"Of course." His head bobbed a short nod with a sincere smile in Natasha's direction. There was no denying that Tony, too, was glad to have her back. Retired or not, he had no illusions that the Avengers would remain anything but a constant in his life one way or another and while Natasha might never be a definite number on his side, she was an ally. Of sorts.

"Well, it's good to see you guys. I know it's quite a drive out here and we had suspected things might be a little more entertaining at the Compound." His thoughts still trailing a little behind, the words had slipped off his tongue before his brain could catch up with what he was saying. He hadn't meant to just straight up mention the Compound, the rest of the team by extension who hadn't received an invite to this particular gathering.

Pepper had wanted to discuss the guest list more than once. Had asked him repeatedly if he wanted to extend an invitation to the others, the team... but Rogers... Steve... no. Christmas was for family and while Bruce and his plus one did count - because Tony wanted him to count - Steve... Steve was not family. When it came down to it, they were hardly even friends. Natasha's eyes were on him and Tony was painfully aware that he was spacing out. No glasses to hide his face, all of a sudden he felt almost too exposed in his own house.

"Oh, we're just splitting the time equally over the holidays." Natasha smiled brightly. "Christmas Eve with one side of the family and then Christmas Day with the other."

Bruce's face fell a little, looking back and forth between them. "It's not sides as much as... just..."

They were saved from more awkwardness as Pepper arrived with the drinks and ushered them further into the house. Bruce was happy to follow along but Natasha hung back, her eyes still on Tony.

"There don't have to be any sides in this." She linked their arms, pushing Tony along, as Bruce shot a glance back at them, just out of earshot. "You can just decide to let it go, Tony."

"I did." It wasn't all that easy to keep the tone light but he was determined not to let this get to him. "I told him, I moved on from all of this years ago."

"We both know that's not the same as solving the real problem." Her voice was low but not unkind. "We both know you never forgave or forget, that he has never earned back your trust."

It didn't matter. He didn't even want to think about how much of that was or wasn't true. Rogers had no place in his thoughts tonight. So the timing was perfect when his eyes came to rest on a brown-haired boy who was creeping closer and closer to the pot of mulled wine. With a lame excuse, he pulled away from Natasha, away from the world he had officially retired from towards the buffet.

"And what do you think you're doing?"

"Me?" The boy's eyes were wide, the cup in his hand already filled to the brim.

"Listen here, squirrel!" His finger poking against Harley's chest, Tony could at least pretend that this was a situation he could actually control. "You take your grabby hands off that mulled wine or so help me..." He snatched the hot drink out of the boy's hands.

"Oh, come on..." His long lashes were blinking at Tony with feigned innocence. "It's not for me."

"That routine might work on some indifferent cater waiter at those benefits but if you think I can't see past your ridiculously lazy—"

"Yeah, yeah..." Harley just waved him off. "Don't be such a killjoy!"

Tony narrowed his eyes at him. "I mean it!" For good measure, he took a healthy gulp from the cup, positively burning his throat in the process. But it wasn't until Harley threw his hands in the air and turned his back in defeat - for now - that Tony allowed his face to cringe at the sting. Those little trouble makers were not helping with his heart condition. Speaking of trouble... "Where is Peter?"

Harley crossed his arms in front of himself, his mind clearly brooding on a new strategy. "No clue."

Tony's next sip of the hot wine was a lot smoother than the first. "What do you mean, no clue?"

"It generally means that the person doesn't have any information about the subject that you are—"

"Alright, short stuff..." Tony's eyes were searching the room but the little spider was nowhere to be seen. "A bit less of the asshole routine please?"

"Listen, if you want me to babysit, same rules apply as they do for Morgan." Brazen in his brattiness, the little shit ladled a good helping of mulled wine into a new cup. "I'll need a heads-up and generous compensation that I'm happy to re-negoti— Hey!"

Harley tried to hold on to the cup that Tony once again just plucked from his hands. "You've had enough of this!"

"That one is for Rhodey," the boy scowled.

"Uh-huh. Sure. I'll get it to him and you can enjoy your night without any errands, hm?"

Tony made a point to stare at the kid until he huffed and finally skedaddled away from the wine pot, possibly in search of his sister, or maybe more likely trying to stay out of her and Morgan's way. Careful not to spill either of the two cups, Tony made his way across the room towards Rhodey who had brought a "friend", a development Tony had been mindful not to comment on all night.

The Colonel's eyes looked him up and down as he made a beeline towards them. "Because one is never enough with you, is it, Tones?"

"You..." he hissed, his lips pursed. "You better not try to quip with me, you enabler!" Tony pushed the second cup he was holding into Carol Danvers' hands instead of Rhodey's. "Are you seriously letting my boy use you as an exit strategy to score a buzz?"

Rhodey's eyes shifted to the cup in his "friend" Carol's hands before he nipped on what was left in his own cup and then gave a shrug. "Which one?"

"That's not funny!"

With a deep sigh, Rhodey exchanged his empty cup with Carol's hot one. "Tony, you need to lay off the mother-hen vibes. The boy is 21 years old, as for Peter—."

"No, he's not," Tony growled. "Not for another 6 days!"

"Geez, daddy, do I really have to remind you how old you were when I 'enabled'," Rhodey air-quoted, "your ass in college?"

He said it like he had a point when that was exactly what Tony was afraid of. "And how did that turn out?"

His eyebrows pulled up, Rhodey made a gesture like that would somehow prove something, but Tony was not in the mood for semantics. His eyes roamed across the room - pointedly ignoring Harley who tried to usher Nebula closer and closer to the pot of hot wine - in search of the other little trouble maker.

Where was the kid? He hadn't seen him since... since he had ducked away from awkwardly shuffling his feet back and forth between May and Happy. Without another word, Tony strode past his friend, checking the kitchen but there was no Peter in there either. Everyone else was happily chatting, eating, enjoying themselves exactly like they were supposed to. Not so the Spiderling.

For a few more minutes, Tony quietly, discreetly wandered around the house. He had a feeling, a feeling that something was up. It didn't take long for him to give up the pretense and outright mutter to FRIDAY, asking in which room Peter was hiding.

"He's not in the house, boss." 

That was how Tony found himself outside, stalking up a snowy hill in the dark. The wind was icy, but it wasn't the cold that made the hair on the back of his neck stand tall. He had avoided this for months. Had avoided even thinking about that spot on the hill where his other-dimensional self had been buried before he ever made it to this timeline. With how loudly his brain was rattling, there was a part of him that couldn't deny that right about now, he appreciated the silence in the dark. They were so far away from what people would call the 'civilized' world out here. Surely, with Peter's senses constantly strained in the city, that was the basic appeal to him as well.

It was also how Peter had heard him coming before Tony even had the chance to call out to him.

"How did you find me?"

A little winded from the slippery ascend to the hilltop, Tony paused a couple of steps behind where the boy was sitting in the snow. "Oh, come on... It's me."

Peter pursed his lips, refusing to turn his head. "So, you questioned every single person at the house about when they had seen me last and then calculated the radius of how far I might have come?"

Tony only blew out a huff.

"Ah," Peter exclaimed and pulled his phone out of his pocket. "Tracking me after all, aren't you."

"Well, duh." Slowly, Tony came closer until he sank to the ground right next to the boy. "Not that I needed it. You're a Spiderling, not an Elf, kid."

"Right." Peter grimaced to himself. "Footprints."

"I keep telling you. Gotta learn how to fly."

The smile that tucked on Peter's lips seemed genuine this time. "You didn't have to come out here."

All of a sudden, Tony contemplated that the boy may have picked this particular spot not because of what it meant to him, but because he had been sure that of all the places, few of the people staying at the house that night would voluntarily wander up here. Tony least of all. There was no denying that the kid had picked up on how much this all freaked Tony out, the fact that there was a dead version of himself buried so close to where he still lived. Silence hung heavy between them before Tony's voice echoed a little quieter, a little hesitant.

"I wasn't sure if I should, but..." He swallowed hard. "I can leave if you want to be alone." 

There was another pause. Wanting to give him room to speak if that was what he wanted, Tony waited but the kid didn't say a thing.

With a shaky exhale, Tony kept his eyes on him. "But then I thought, I'd rather have you send me back than not be here if... if you would need me."

The kid's eyes were still staring straight ahead at the headstone in front of them.

"I know, I'm not him—"

"Of course you are," Peter breathed quietly.

Tony lowered his gaze, faltering. Maybe. "Not really though."

The kid's lip was caught between his teeth, refusing to look over at him. "In... in every way that matters."

"If you want to talk about it—"

"I don't," Peter mumbled.

It had been weeks after he had come back when Tony's curiosity had won out against his anxiety. Late at night on his own in the basement, he had asked FRIDAY to play him the footage of what had happened that day. That day he had died. Pepper, the kid, Rhodey... seeing their agony in the face of what he had done to protect them... it was a memory he just couldn't shake.

"I know, me being here doesn't change what happened. Kid, I know you were there when he..." Tony glanced to the side, searching the kid's face for a reaction. "...when I died."

Peter's head moved in a mixture of a shake and a shrug. "It... it doesn't matter..." His voice shook, possibly trying to convince himself as much as Tony. "You're back. You're... here. It... it's fine..."

"You're sitting at my grave in the freezing cold in the middle of my Christmas Eve party, buddy."

It was as bluntly as he could put it. He could see no benefit in tiptoeing around the demons the kid was battling.

But Peter shook his head more distinctly this time, still denying him. "It was just because... so many people and my senses, they... I just needed a little quiet to... calm down."

"Right. We have about 60 hectares of land out here and still..." Tony blew out a breath and leaned a little closer to the kid. "Still, this is the spot you picked to go." There was no answer from the Spiderling. "It's okay, if it still hurts, buddy."

The humorless chuckle that bubbled out of the kid didn't make things better for either of them.

"Pete, can you look at me?"

He didn't though. His eyes didn't stray from the inscription on the stone. 'A.E.S. - At peace.' A shudder went through Tony at the thought of how his wife had decided on that particular inscription.

"You're here." Peter's eyes dropped further, away from the stone, down to the snowy ground. "You're okay. It... it shouldn't matter..."

Tony grit his teeth then threw caution to the wind. "It's been 5 years and a little more than 8 months since you dusted in my arms, Pete."

The kid visibly shook next, his hands braced against the cold ground as he finally turned to look at Tony. 

"5 years, 8 months, and some odd days." Tony's lower lip was caught between his teeth, his cheeks flushed. The images in his mind were as vivid as they had been on that fateful day on Titan. "You're here now. You're back. You have been back for 6 months and I can still hear your voice in my head pleading how you don't—"

"I'm sorry..." the kid whispered.

Tony huffed out a low chuckle. "Yeah. You said that too."

"I'm sorry that... that you felt responsible," the kid started and Tony had just wanted to protest when the boy stopped him with a wave of his hand. "I am, but it's not the same."

For a brief moment, Tony closed his eyes, trying his best to calm himself and keep the dry bite from his tone. "No. It really isn't the same."

The breath Peter blew out was harsher, angrier. "It's not, because I didn't choose to get dusted," he growled, refusing to look away from Tony now. "I didn't want to die!"

"I know, Pete. I remember." The beat of his heart hurt in his chest. "You think I would have wanted to die?"

Peter shook his head, tearing his gaze away again. "It doesn't matter."

"Kid—"

"Can we just... I don't want to argue about this."

Peter pulled his knees close to his chest and the way his hands were shaking made Tony want to drag him back inside so he could focus on giving him a proper lecture without having to worry about the cold the kid might catch out here. 

Instead, he filed that back for later, deep breaths keeping his own frustration in check. "Maybe we do need to argue about this."

"I just want to move on!"

"And I..." Tony couldn't stop his voice from shaking. "...would really appreciate a chance to argue my side here."

"You don't need to argue your side," the kid hissed at him. "It's not you, I'm mad at, okay?"

Tony studied his boy. He was becoming painfully aware, how strung up the kid really was, how agitated. "It's not a choice anyone wants to make, kid. Sometimes, there is just no other way to —"

"There were like 10 people close by who could have done it." Peter shot him an angry glance. "It didn't have to be you! What about Morgan and Pepper, huh? What about—" He shook his head, eyes back on the snow-covered grave. "Captain Danvers. Thor. King T'Challa. The lady with the flying horse. Strange. Rogers. Barnes. Wanda Maximoff. Me." His head spun back towards Tony. "I could have tried."

Tony's stomach turned at the mere thought of that. "Yeah, there's no way in hell, Pete."

"Why not?" Peter's eyes burned with tears. "Why not! I could have taken it!"

"You have no idea if that's true." His heart was racing, his throat dry. "You might have died."

"So it's fine for you to sacrifice yourself on a whim but for me it—"

"Stop!" The way his hand hit the ground didn't have the grand effect he wanted. "That's not how this will work, kid. Ever. I will always try to keep you safe."

"And what about what I want?" Peter spat at him.

Tony shook his head, his eyebrows knitted close, desperately grasping for control. "I'm here now, am I not?"

"Yeah, for now..."

Any frustrated retort that might have been building up on his tongue died instantly as he watched the boy rub a hand across his face, the way his lower lip was quivering.

 "Kid... come here..." His agitation evaporated and without another beat of hesitation, Tony pulled him close, his arms tightly wrapped around the boy's small frame. "Shh, it'll... it'll be alright."

There was nothing he could say, nothing he could do that would take away the pain of the days when he had seemed lost forever to the people who loved him most. Just like Tony would never be able to quite shake the deep sense of loss he had carried for years when the kid had been dead and gone. 

Peter's hands were clasping the thick fabric of Tony's coat, his face pressed against his chest.

There was nothing he could say, no promises he would make, not the ones the kid wanted to hear right now cause he could never keep any of them. When it came to the kid's safety, his life, he would always put it above his own. No matter how much it might hurt him again, at least the kid would be breathing, would get to live.

"I'm sorry, buddy."

"But... but you're not," he mumbled against Tony's jacket.

He had a hand on the back of the kid's head, holding him tight. "I hate that I hurt you, Pete. I do." He pressed his eyes close, ignoring how the cold was creeping up from underneath him. "But I'll never apologize for trying to keep you safe." The boy shook in his arms, but Tony didn't let him pull away. "I sure as hell won't apologize for succeeding." There was a low tremor in the kid's body that was definitely more than emotions. "You're shaking, buddy. Let's get you back inside."

"I'm not c-cold," Peter hiccoughed.

"Alright, then..." Tony ruffled a hand through the boy's hair, his own digits frozen stiff. "Well, I'm going to get pneumonia and you seem to be very invested in—" He groaned as Peter slapped a hand against his chest.

"It's not f-funny!"

"No, at my age it really isn't something—"

This time, he caught the kid's hand just in time to soften the blow. In the process, Peter sat up straight enough for Tony to squint at his red-rimmed eyes.

"In there, you could watch me bust Harley for sneaking around the mulled wine?" There was a sparkle in the kid's eyes at that. A real sparkle he couldn't quite hide. "Ha! Knew I'd get you with that one."

Peter moved back a bit, shaky fingers rubbing his face. Squinting at the boy, Tony was weighing his words, wondering how many hornet's nest he should be poking at.

"You should get over this, buddy." Tony cringed at the look of utter discomfort on his boy's face. "I mean it. That little power struggle the two of you are going through..?"

"There's no power struggle."

Tony crocked his head at him. "You know what I mean... Kid, I know you want to keep your secrets but Harley can be a great ally to you."

"Right," Peter mumbled. "Can we just like... do this another time?"

He nodded before the kid had even finished the sentence. "Course, buddy." For a moment, Tony held in, his focus never anywhere else but Peter, as he tried to control the tremor in his voice. "So, we should get back inside, right?"

"Yeah. Right." The kid leaned back against him, his voice muffled. "Just... just a couple more minutes?"

Tony swallowed hard, nodding soundlessly. He'd never refuse the kid. Never. How could he ever?

 ###

Merry Christmas and happy holidays wherever and however you guys are celebrating!

Thank you for reading. And thank you even more if you take the time to let me know in the comments what you think about the story and reblog it!

This story is part of my Post-Endgame timeline. More about my Endgame Fix-it and the connected series of stories: “Like You’d Know How It Works” timeline 

[catrasredemption-moved]

I searched but I don't think you've gotten this prompt before: Adora and Catra having their first fight since Prime's death, and having to deal with/resolve this in a healthy way this time?

((even if I had, there’s a million ways to write one story))

Tale as old as time. Adora was overprotective, Catra hated feeling like Adora was trying to look after her or didn’t believe she was capable of accomplishing something. And to be entirely fair, they were both doing better, working on their separate issues and trying to talk more instead of letting resentment build.

But it had been a long week of rebuilding Salineas. They hadn’t even been back to Bright Moon - they slept in borrowed beds in Mermista’s palace, and went straight back to work as soon as the sun rose. Catra had been particularly gung ho, and no one had asked why. Sometimes it was better to just let her go. But Salineas was personal in more ways than one. Catra had done her best to work out of the public eye, spending a frankly obscene amount of time putting the Sea Gate back together.

That didn’t earn her any points with the citizens who had lost their homes to the Horde and remembered her standing over their burning city, though.

“Get out, Horde Scum!”

Adora was a street over when she heard the man yelling. There were a few former Horde soldiers working in Salineas, but most of them could run under the radar.

“You gonna let me rebuild this house or what, man?”

Catra had been on her best behavior and bit her tongue, but it was late, she’d hurt herself earlier and refused to stopped, and now, Adora saw as she turned the corner down the street, an old man was harassing her.

“Who let you back in this kingdom? You should be rotting in a dungeon!”

“Take it up with the queen,” Catra muttered, yanking her arm from the man’s grip. “I’m doing community service.”

The man snarled, shoving her. “No one here wants your help, Horde Scum.”

“Hey.” Adora stepped between them, fixing the man with a firm glare. “She’s trying to fix your kingdom. Back off.”

The man glared back, but no one was going to argue with She-Ra. He muttered under his breath before storming away. Adora turned back to Catra to smile and ask if she was okay, but was met by an even darker glare.

“I didn’t need your help.”

Adora bit her lip, trying to bite down an annoyed huff. Catra had gotten hurt and it didn’t sound like she was having a great day with people.

“I know. I’m sorry, it just bugs me when people are jerks to you.”

Catra relaxed just a little bit. “It’s fine, it’s not like they can hurt me. Nothing they say be any worse than Shadow Weaver.”

“Pretty low bar.” That got Adora a smile, so she took a chance, holding out a hand. Catra smiled faintly, taking the offer and letting Adora pull her into a kiss.

“Have you taken a break? We should get something to eat.”

“Nah, that old pain in the ass is hanging around to see if I walk away so he can give me shit. I’ll find you for food later.”

“Okay,” Adora said with a small pout, kissing her forehead. “Don’t work too hard.”

“Me? I would never.”

Adora did her best not to roll her eyes, but she was smiling as she walked away.

Catra did not find her for a break. Adora hoped Bow or maybe Mermista had grabbed her and made her take a break (Mermista had very pointedly said nothing when Adora had mentioned Catra’s tendencies to work herself half to death, but Catra had also told Adora a few days later that Mermista had walked up to her and shoved a sandwich into her hands and walked away), but a quick check in with both revealed they hadn’t seen her since they had doled out assignments that morning. She also wasn’t in their shared room when Adora checked.

Instead, she found her back at the same house the man had confronted her in front of earlier.

“Catra,” Adora called warily, stepping closer. “It’s late. Let’s get some rest.”

“Just let me finish-”

“You’ve been working all day, and you’re limping. You can finish in the morning.”

“I’m fine.”

Adora hesitated before steeling herself and stepping forward. “No, you’re not. Look, I get it, that guy got under your skin, but you can’t work yourself into the ground-”

“Adora, I’m fine, just leave it!”

That had been a chance, and Adora knew it. She still didn’t like it when Catra snapped. “I’m not leaving it, now will you stop being stubborn and just listen to me?!”

“Why can’t you listen to me?” Catra whirled to glare at her. “I said I’m fine!”

“Right.” The sarcasm was heavy in Adora’s voice. “You look completely fine. You’re the only one still working, and I know you haven’t taken a break. Stop being stupid.”

“Oh, so now I’m stupid?”

“You’re acting stupid, yeah!”

“I’m just trying to get work done!”

“So what, you’re going to work yourself to death?”

“What do you care? It’s none of your business!”

Adora spluttered for a moment, mouth opening and closing a few times before she snapped, “You know what, fine! I don’t care!”

She turned on her heal and stormed away without a word. Catra didn’t stop her.

She had made it all the way back to their room before she started to feel bad. Damn it. They were supposed to be working on things like this - getting mad and yelling and walking away. This was the first real fight they’d had since defeating Pride, but even just talking through their snip attacks was important.

And they had completely fallen down on this one.

Adora sagged onto the bed, burying her face in her hands. She needed to go back, she needed to go back, but now Catra was going to be defensive and angry and probably refuse to come back at all...

The door opened right as the thought crossed Adora’s mind; she looked up, surprised, to see Catra limping into the room. She stood, saying, “Hey, I’m-”

“I’m sor-”

They both paused, staring at each other. “I’m sorry,” Catra finally said. “You’re right. I was being stupid.”

“I’m sorry I said that,” Adora said quietly, reaching out. “Will you... please sit? And let me look at that leg?”

Catra nodded, letting Adora take her and help her to the bed. “Why’ve you been pushing yourself so much?”

“Come on Adora, you know why.”

“Say it anyway.”

Catra sighed, scrubbing her eyes. “Because it’s Salineas. And this is my fault.”

“Did you personally rip every single building down?”

“Adora.”

“You know what I mean. This isn’t all on you. And you’re not responsible for fixing everything.”

Catra glared weakly. “That’s my line to you.”

“And I stole it.” Adora smirked a little. “Whatcha gonna do about it?”

Catra poked her forehead, but didn’t fight otherwise as Adora gently probed her leg, wincing when Adora found the strained muscles. “You shouldn’t have been working all day.”

“I... that guy just wound me up,” Catra mumbled. “I was thinking about stopping to take a break, but I kept hearing him and just... wanting to finish to rub it in his face.” Her shoulders hunched, eyes squeezing shut. “But he’s right. They don’t need my help.”

“Yeah, you only rebuilt most of the sea gate by yourself, no big deal.” Adora stood, pressing a kiss to Catra’s forehead and going to make a heating pad. “People are always going to be angry.”

“I know. I know. He just got to me.” Adora sat with Catra again, resting the pad on Catra’s leg. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have lost my temper.”

“It’s okay. I’m sorry I said you were acting stupid.”

“I was.” Adora flicked her forehead. “Ow! What was that for?”

“Insulting yourself. It doesn’t help anything, remember?”

Catra rubbed her forehead, scowling. “Fine. I’m sorry I ditched you for lunch.”

“That I will accept an apology for.” Adora kissed her forehead. “Will you take tomorrow off?”

“Ugh... fine. Only if you do.”

That was a dirty move. Adora pouted, but finally nodded. “Fine.”

Catra grinned, kissing Adora’s cheek.

Communication. It was something they were working on.

[eevee-haze]

Aight so It's... not news to literally anyone that I like Ink sans a lot as a concept, and his birthday is today, so I figured what better way to celebrate his birthday than to make a brand new AU (or at least post the info for it)! Or I guess three since I'm working on Swap and Fell variants for it as well.

One of my main questions about the Underground was "how do they handle seismic activity" which was how this AU started forming. It's probably not at all scientifically accurate in the least, but oh well. I call it Rifttale. Cause the earthquakes cause literal rifts in the mountain lmao. I'll put the rest under a read more since this'll get long.

The idea of Rifttale is that Mt Ebott is located on a fault line, and all the hollowing out the monsters had to do made the mountain extremely unstable, and that problem only increased the more the underground's population grew. It's pretty dangerous underground in Rifttale what with the constant threat of cave in due to poor structural integrity and the fact that they don't really have much to work with to make their homes and businesses quake resistant. A fair portion of houses get rubble rained down on them and something always needs fixing.

All four sections of the underground remain, but the layout and placement are different. (And probably larger scale) For example, Snowdin is located near the top of the mountain since snow from the peak falls in through the cracks left in the roof of the cavern, and Hotland is at the very bottom of the mountain, where lava has surged up from the seismic activity. Both Waterfall and New Home are around the mid section, but are separated by a thick wall of rubble that followed a quake that happened maybe days before Frisk fell.

Sans

The man of many jobs adds two more responsibilities to the list rather begrudgingly in this AU. As one of the only Monsters capable of gravity manipulation and teleportation in Snowdin, he and his brother are tasked with being emergency responders in case of an earthquake as well as assisting with any initial construction steps in order to make bridges across newly formed gaps. Sans often gets called to other regions for his services too, but he really doesn't appreciate it.

Frankly he's convinced the mountain's going to crush them before they get the final soul they need, which is part of why he agrees to keep Frisk safe so easily. He doubts anything will change about their predicament with or without them. A No-Mercy route in Rifttale would see him saying things like "Couldn't have waited for the mountain to get us?" Or "I think I would have preferred a cave-in."

Something Rift!Sans doesn't really tell people is that he's blind in his right eye. When he and Papyrus were little, he shielded Papyrus from falling rocks during a quake, and one of them got him good just above his right eye. Most of the injury healed but it left a nasty crack in his socket which prevented him from actually being able to see. He can light the socket, and does so strangers don't needlessly worry about him, but it can't light up all the way like his left does.

Papyrus

Ah yes the sunshine boy. Personality wise he's not that different in this AU. He still wants to be in the guard and he's still confident and friendly, but sometimes he gets a little subdued and worried about Sans since Rift!Sans is much more obvious about his emotional/mental struggles. Another notable part is that he's being kept out of the guard mostly because he's more useful in the emergency unit. He's strong and capable enough to be a guard, but he's too soft, so they gave him a job that was helpful while playing to his strengths.... though like a silly he doesn't see the admirers he has and still hopes to become a guardsman one day.

Frisk & Chara

These two are interesting in this AU. Chara was around 13-14 when they died and spent years underground with the Dreemurrs before their death. They have a strong distaste for their own kind for several reasons, among which being the way they were treated (that led them to run away in the first place) and the fact that they forced such nice creatures into what is essentially a death trap.

They're a bit of a gremlin, but they're certainly not all bad like they consider themself to be.

Frisk on the other hand is a quiet child of roughly nine years. Adventurous and curious, but also blind. They hadn't seen the hole when they were exploring and ended up falling down. They rely on Chara to lead them around the more treacherous parts of the underground since they can't see it. (Chara is able to touch Frisk and tends to tug them by the wrist when guiding them.) Chara starts off really unhappy about guiding them, and depending on the route will even refuse to do so, not that it matters in a No-Mercy route. That's because in the No-Mercy route the Player is more of an active component. Frisk physically can't fight back on their own, and Chara would never help them do so. Essentially the Player is just an entity used by us creators to manipulate Frisk into a No-Mercy route since it wouldn't happen otherwise.

Asriel & Flowey

Personality wise the two really aren't all that different. Asriel is the slightest bit more skittish thanks to his timid nature and the uncertainty that comes with the constant tremors, and Flowey is the slightest bit more bearable. He still doesn't have much in the way of emotions, but it's pretty obvious their situation is bleak without him making it worse (As such, while he has tried No-Mercy in the past, most of his runs were seeing what effects smaller changes had. The volatile environment made it interesting regardless).

Though he's notably far more annoyed about losing his save and reload powers in Rifttale because he'd been in the middle of trying something when Frisk fell.

On the more technical side, Flowey doesn't tend to get around much when there aren't bridges over the chasms. While he can cross them himself, its a pain if they're too awfully wide. This means that the severe quakes tended to impede him a lot.

Toriel & Asgore

As a result of the meddling Flowey was doing, Toriel reclaimed her place as Queen and has been talking things over with her husband about everything that happened. Stuck in the ruins she hadn't gotten the news that Asgore amended his statement later on to say that they would only take the souls of humans that fell if they were hostile or after they died of natural causes. None of the children who fell were killed by monsters. (Many died in partial cave-ins or from falling into lava or the like, though so a quick death from a monster likely would have been preferable.)

Toriel still thinks that going out and just collecting the remaining souls they need would be faster, but Asgore argued a few points on that such as doing so likely angering the humans and giving them a further negative bias as well as the fact that whoever went to get the souls may well die like their children did.

They're still working things out but it's better than how it was before.

Toriel still spends a lot of her time in the ruins, but now its more out of a sense of duty since most of the children fell into the ruins first. She actually guides Frisk up until they meet Sans where she passes escorting them to him since he is more capable of ensuring their safety, and she needs to hurry ahead to make preparations for their stay and inform Asgore.

Alphys

Predictably not much different personality wise. She's actually one of the safer monsters since she never leaves her lab and it's reinforced to withstand rockfalls to some degree, not to mention the basement level with the true lab in it (though its hot as heck down there cause of the magma nearby.) Her primary goal is more geared toward keeping the underground as stable as possible so that they can hopefully last until they get the last soul. That's not to say the amalgamates don't exist, they do, but she's at least been looking busy as sort of an excuse why she hasn't answered back any of the letters. No time for mail when she's trying to save people, after all.

Undyne

Captain of the Royal guard, still. The guard does still exist, it's just less numerous and has more focus on recruiting strong members. After all they exist in case a hostile human arrives instead. So naturally Undyne is even more of a badass than normal, and she's ready in the event of a No-Mercy run. Even in a pacifist playthrough she's a bit wary of Frisk, notably not wanting to leave Alphys alone with them in case they were hiding their true intentions. This means she's the one who ends up escorting the human through the first little bit of Hotland after Waterfall, whereupon Mettaton would take over.

Mettaton

Considering a Human-killing robot was no longer needed, he was created with maneuverability in mind. The idea was that he could help others when needed, much like the emergency rescue portion of the guard, but Mettaton much preferred to focus on his career of course. He’s part of the reason Sans keeps being called to help out in other regions which gets him a healthy amount of resentment from the older skeleton.

Gaster

No major story involvement, but he does have plot importance. Gaster was the Skelebro’s father, and while he made them artificially, he did care about them a lot. Not much about him still remains and very few remember any details about him since he was quite a reclusive skeleton. He was close friends with the Riverperson however, so that’s who ended up essentially raising the two skeletons after Gaster fell into the Core. They provided for them despite being gone a lot.

Misc. Details

Children that stayed for an extended period were often called the “New Hope” a term coined when Chara first became a part of the Dreemurr family

Not all children opted to stay with the royal family, hence their belongings being stored in different regions

There were hostile humans that fell as well, but most met their fate in the lava and their souls were burnt up before they could be retrieved.

Frisk had fairly negligent parents. They weren’t outright abusive, but they really didn’t pay much attention to them.

Portions of the Waterfall part of the Underground have large nets bridging the gaps to catch the garbage that falls down that way nothing gets wasted falling into the chasms.

The Delta Rune on Sans’s coat is a reflective sticker. They told him he needed to wear something reflective for visibility’s sake and because he wasn’t willing to mess up his jacket, nor go without it, he cheated the system.

Papyrus wears a battle body just like normal, but he hot-glued some of the reflective material from human clothing that ended up falling down onto it so that he could both look cool and follow rules

Despite being a very neat and cleanly skeleton, Papyrus often ends up dirty as a consequence of his job. Because of that he takes care to meticulously clean both himself and the house before they go to bed.

[bestworstcase]

"[Rapunzel] stops accepting blame for things that aren’t her fault". I've seen this mentioned before on other blogs talking about Rapunzel's character growth over the series, but I don't understand what it's referring to. Sorry if this is too vague/broad an ask, but what are you thinking of in seasons 1 and 2 when you say that Rapunzel has learned to stop taking the blame for things that aren't her fault by season 3? Apart from Rapunzel's Enemy and maybe QFAD, I can't think of anything.

i think this is one of the more understated things about rapunzel’s characterization in that there is never like, a specific moment where rapunzel Verbalizes acceptance of blame for things she clearly isn’t responsible for, but it still imo informs a lot of her behavior?

and it goes all the way back to the film. right out of the gate we see that guilt tripping and blame passing are two of gothel’s chief weapons: when rapunzel’s feelings get hurt by one of gothel’s “jokes,” gothel chides rapunzel to “stop taking everything so seriously,” which is abuser-speak for “nothing i say is wrong, it’s your fault if you’re hurt.” 

then there’s digs like “oh, rapunzel, you know i hate leaving you after a fight—especially when i’ve done absolutely nothing wrong...” 

and the big one, after gothel loses her temper and yells at rapunzel, and then immediately collapses disconsolately into a chair and says “ugh, great—now i’m the bad guy.” overtly blaming rapunzel for “making” gothel snap at her. (this of course gets called back to at the end of the film, though it’s less a guilt trip there than it is a threat.)

aaaand right before “mother knows best (reprise)” when rapunzel asks how gothel found her, gothel says, “oh, it was easy, i just listened for the sound of complete and utter betrayal and followed that.” this one imo is the clearest illustration of how all this impacts rapunzel emotionally, because she goes from scared/alarmed/startled to just. sagging, in obvious guilt. 

but then of course there’s also the scene right after rapunzel leaves the tower, where we see her oscillating wildly from jubilance to despair and guilt as she frets over what her leaving will “do” to gothel, how mad / upset / betrayed gothel will feel, etc. so even when gothel isn’t there, actively reinforcing this behavior, we can see that rapunzel very much feels that gothel’s feelings are her responsibility—and if gothel is upset, that’s rapunzel’s fault. 

anyway!! all this adds up to rapunzel leaving the tower with this subconscious mindset that all problems are her problems, and we see this expressed very early on in s1. i would even argue as early as before ever after... with both frederic and eugene. 

BEA goes really hard right out of the gate with driving home how restless and uncomfortable rapunzel feels in corona; how stifled she is, and how badly she wants to go out and explore the wider world. but it also shows how hard she tries to stuff it down, because her success as a princess is “important to [her] dad.” she tries to bring up her discontent with eugene, but in a roundabout way so as to avoid actually saying she’s unhappy—and then when he says that he’s perfectly happy and content, rapunzel takes a deep breath and agrees with him. it isn’t overt text, but she’s still in “managing other people’s feelings” mode, and there’s a reason the only person she is honest about her own feelings with is cassandra—because cassandra signals very clearly that she is not going to feel hurt, offended, or disappointed if rapunzel is less than happy in corona. quite the opposite, cass is the one who suggests sneaking out in the first place!

now obviously, neither fred’s nor eugene’s feelings are rapunzel’s responsibility and i think both would be horrified to know that rapunzel feels like it’s her job to make them happy... but that doesn’t really matter, because rapunzel has been trained all her life to do this and that’s not a pattern that just goes away overnight. 

and then also in BEA, we see how quick rapunzel is to castigate herself for doing something that upsets someone else... when eugene proposes and she panics and runs away, her reaction is “i feel horrible about eugene” and to feel guilty/upset about not wanting to marry him Right Now.

aaaand of course caine blaming rapunzel for stuff frederic did goes entirely unremarked upon, partly because things like the hair reveal took priority over that but partly also, in my opinion, because rapunzel just kind of Accepted That because she’s so used to being blamed for everything.

this is sort of a recurring theme throughout a lot of s1. you mentioned RE, but for the sake of completeness—i think the most telling thing in that ep is that, when rapunzel finds out what booing really signifies, her first question is what could i have done to this person?, because the concept that this might be a HIM problem doesn’t even cross her mind. she assumes that it’s her fault he doesn’t like her. 

and then there’s stuff like pascal’s story, which i think is an interesting one because like... frankly, it’s not entirely rapunzel’s fault that she stood pascal up. yes, as the princess she could have stood up at six o’clock on the dot to say no more petitions, i am going to dinner. but also she’s the princess, and she’s busy, and pascal’s story is as much an episode about pascal learning that just because rapunzel is busy that doesn’t mean she doesn’t still love him as much as it is about rapunzel learning how to navigate work/life balance—but it’s also very clear that rapunzel’s perspective is “i have been a HORRIBLE friend and i need to put EVERYTHING ELSE on hold until i have FIXED my TERRIBLE BEHAVIOR” when the reality is more like “rapunzel and pascal are both going through a major adjustment period and need to have a realistic talk about expectations now that rapunzel is, like, training to rule a country.” 

in painter’s block, rapunzel feels so traumatized by the (largely correct) decisions she made in QFAD that she can’t make any decisions at all and falls prey to sugracha’s manipulation, and i personally think this is the beginning of the tipping point for her where she begins to see that hey... she’s just a person, she literally cannot be responsible for every bad thing that happens, she can’t be in two places at once, she can’t fix everything for everyone... and sometimes she needs to prioritize one problem over the other. that’s why the emotional climax of that episode is rapunzel saying “difficult choices are what make us who we are.” that’s her letting go of the horrific guilt she felt about choosing corona over varian, and letting eugene and the others put themselves in danger to save her parents. 

that epiphany carries her through SOTS and enables her to make the tough calls she needs to make re: stopping varian, but it also doesn’t mean that her tendency to blame herself for stuff that isn’t her fault goes away altogether. just look at BTCW: while she’s trying to make sense of how/why eugene could be marrying stalyan, her first instinct is to blame herself. to wonder if maybe this is a response to her kind of sort of turning down his kind of sort of second proposal. 

and the rest of the vardaros arc is like... i would say half rapunzel delaying moving on because she’s scared of what waits for her at the end of the black rock trail (as freebird confirms) and half rapunzel making vardaros’s problems her problems and trying to fix them because she feels responsible. 

curses is... not a good episode (canardist, why) but the plot basically hinges on canardist successfully making rapunzel feel guilty / dubious enough about taking back her own telescope that she starts buying into the curse stuff and psyching herself out. 

*as a sidebar here, there are also instances in this same period of rapunzel acknowledging her culpability in stuff she DID do wrong, for example in under raps—but in these cases, it’s interesting to me to note that her apologies actually aren’t very good apologies. in the under raps example, for instance, she also foists off blame on cassandra (saying basically, well i wouldn’t have interfered and put you in danger if you had told me everything, even though i am terrible at keeping secrets and we both know it). and this makes sense, because gothel certainly did not model good, healthy apologizing habits for rapunzel, lol. so she’s in this weird zone where she tends to feel guilty for everything / feels responsible for other people’s feelings but when she DOES mess up for realsies she also doesn’t really have the skills to navigate a true apology. this poor girl

i would say that RATGT is about the point where rapunzel switches gears from accepting blame (both for things that aren’t her fault, like all this stuff, and for things that are, like when she apologized to cass for being a dick in goodbye and goodwill or when she apologized to pascal for belittling him in king pascal) to sort of... overcorrecting and entering her “i’m right, you’re wrong” phase. RATGT is when she starts overtly shutting cass down, and RATGT is when cass’s injury happens—something so horrific and scary that i tend to think rapunzel just cannot process the guilt. it’s too much, too painful, and not something she is emotionally equipped to hold onto or work through in a healthy way...

...so she shoves it away and blames cass instead, very openly. she transmutes her guilt into anger, lessening the pain she feels. and she sticks to that throughout RDO, throughout the rest of s2, and evidently through the rest of the series given she literally never apologizes for it. which is outside of the scope of what you asked alksdfjklsfd but i tend to think basically, rapunzel is not very good at distinguishing between “i feel guilty, but it isn’t my fault” and “i feel guilty, because it is my fault” so in the process of unlearning the former behavior she also forces away the latter, and at the end of s3 she’s in a place where she needs to re-learn how to feel guilt in a healthy, reasonable way. because guilt isn’t always a bad emotion, sometimes it’s just your brain’s way of saying “i did something bad, and i want to make up for it” and That’s Good. 

[sanderssidesfanfiction]

If There’s a Place I Could Be - Chapter Ten

If There’s a Place I Could Be Tag

April 16th, 2000

Emile sat outside the hospital room, tears drying on his cheeks. He had used them all up, waiting to see if Alex would wake up. “Come on, Alex, please,” Emile murmured. “I’ve lost too many friends already, I don’t want to lose you too.”

Alex’s parents came over to him and they had a brief chat, mostly them thanking him for visiting Alex when he did, because otherwise...well, none of them wanted to think about what could have happened.

It stung when Alex was finally awake and Emile was immediately yelled out of the room. He had just wanted to make sure Alex was okay! He had lost too many friends to suicide that year already, he didn’t want to lose another! Still, he just hoped Alex would recover. Even if they never spoke again, Emile was just glad Alex was alive.

  November 27th, 2000

Emile felt relief flood through him as he was sitting on the outside steps of the dorms and found Remy getting out of a small sedan, looking none the worse for wear. “Rem!” Emile exclaimed, running over and hugging him. In an instant, he was holding Remy at arms length to poke and prod at him. “Are you hurt? Did they do anything to you?”

“Emile! Emile, I’m fine!” Remy exclaimed, swatting Emile’s hands away and huffing. “No need to mother hen me!”

It was then that Emile noticed the car was still parked, and Remy’s parents looking out the window. Emile pointed and said, “Are those your parents?”

Remy sighed. “Yeah. You want to meet them?”

“No, I’m okay,” Emile said. His voice dropped to a murmur as he said, “They’re making sure you call off the apartment?”

“Yeah,” Remy said at normal volume. “About the whole apartment thing...I’m not sure if I want to go through with it anymore. At least, not right now, you know? Maybe sophomore year, if we don’t have to live on campus.”

“Aw, you sure?” Emile asked. “Because if it’s a matter of rent, I got a call back from Target for an interview...”

“No, it’s not rent. I just think I want to give it until the end of freshman year,” Remy said, and Emile could see how pained he was saying those words. “You know, see if college really might be better if I...if I changed my major.”

Emile blinked and several different swears came to his mind as he realized that Remy's parents must have pressured him into doing just that if he came back. “Well, you’ve been taking general education stuff, so you don’t have to worry about not having the wrong credits,” he improvised. “What do you think your new major will be?”

Remy’s mother wasn’t remotely discreet as she looked out the window of the car, but Remy was standing just so, meaning she couldn’t see the absolute pain and heartbreak on his face as he said, “I was thinking accounting.”

Emile nodded. “Well, that certainly seems like something you would find a stable job in,” he said. “Do you want to hang out for a bit?”

“Sure. Your dorm or mine?”

“How about mine?” Emile asked.

Remy’s shoulders sagged with relief and he nodded. “Thanks for being understanding about the apartment,” he said, as they walked through the front doors to the dorms.

As soon as the door was closed and Remy’s parents were gone, Remy’s legs buckled and his eyes were filling up with tears. “I hate them,” he whispered. “I hate them I hate them I hate them.”

“Frankly? I don’t blame you,” Emile said. “Come on, let’s go to my dorm.”

Remy let himself be led to Emile’s dorm, and when they were finally there, Remy broke down crying. “They said I had to change my major if I came back, Emile,” he said. “Because clearly I wasn’t going to go anywhere with a business major. I wasn’t ‘grateful enough’ for the chance to go to college.”

“That’s bull,” Emile said. “Deciding that college isn’t for you doesn’t mean that you’re ungrateful. And who cares whether you’re grateful or not anyway? It’s not like they’re paying for it or anything!”

Remy shook as he collapsed onto the free bed in the room. “They...they’re trying to kill me Emile. I don’t know if they understand that, but they are. And you know what? They’d blame me for that too, if I went off and killed myself.”

Emile gently placed a hand on Remy’s shoulder and said with absolute firmness, “Good thing you’re a convincing liar, then.”

Remy offered a small smile. “Yeah, I guess so.”

Emile smiled back. “You know, I wasn’t lying about Target calling me back for an interview. I may get a job, one of their long-term workers is going on maternity leave and they’ll need someone who’s willing to work odd hours, because she did stocking. And I’m perfectly okay getting up in the middle of the night to go to work, so long as it gets us rent and I don’t fall asleep in class.”

“What makes you so sure that they won’t just keep on one of the holiday workers, instead?” Remy asked.

“Well, I don’t know if they’d rather keep one of the holiday workers, but I have wicked interview skills, I kinda doubt that most of the holiday workers would even expect to be held on to after the rush. And if they don’t even work like their job depends on it, that just increases my chances,” Emile said.

Remy blinked. “You’re relying on others’ poor work ethic to get a job?” he asked.

“Well, yeah,” Emile said with a shrug. “I was only ever a lifeguard before. I don’t exactly have a full resumé that they can look through.”

“That’s not a very solid plan,” Remy warned.

“I know,” Emile said. “But it’s the best plan I have.”

Remy sighed and ran his hands down his face. “Maybe this was a bad idea,” he mumbled. “Maybe I should just listen to my parents.”

“No,” Emile said. “No, don’t say that, Remy.”

“Why not? They’ll always try and control my life. Even if I try to leave them, they’ll always haunt me. What’s the use in trying if you can’t even get rid of what’s bothering you?”

“Remy, don’t say that, please,” Emile all but begged. His hands were shaking at his sides. He couldn’t lose another friend. Not again. Not again. He didn’t want to say goodbye.

“It’s true, though!” Remy exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. “They’re never going to leave me alone! Not unless they don’t know where I live! And the only way they wouldn’t know that is if I cut off all communication with all of my family! Including Vanessa, including Toby! And I don’t want to stop talking to Toby! But if I keep talking to him, my parents are going to find out where I live somehow, and I! Can’t! Live! Like! This!”

Emile grabbed Remy’s hands in a desperate attempt to grab Remy’s attention. “Remy, please,” Emile begged. “Please, please. We’ll figure out a way to keep you safe. You won’t have to deal with your parents but you can talk to your brother if you want to. We’ll find a way. I’ll find a way. Just, please. Please don’t talk like there’s no hope.”

Remy yanked his hands free of Emile’s grip. “Emile, I know you’re attached to me, but you really shouldn’t be. I’m broken, I have too much baggage. It would be easier for all of us if you stopped talking to me and I did something drastic.”

Emile shook his head. “No. No, I will not let you hurt yourself, Remy. And if you insist on trying to bash your brains in or jump off a building, then I’m going to send you to the local hospital.”

“I don’t need ‘help,’ Emile!” Remy snapped.

“Yes you do!” Emile shouted back.

The whole room fell dead silent. It seemed like the world had stopped. Emile couldn’t be bothered to care. Tears were streaming down his face. Remy was glaring at him. “No. I don’t,” Remy’s voice was soft, but deadly. “And if you say I do again, then I’m calling off the move.”

Emile’s breath was ragged. “Fine. I won’t say you need help,” Emile said. “But I will say that most people don’t consider themselves broken. Most people don’t have that sort of baggage that you have. Most people don’t have their parents trying to control every last aspect of their life. Most people aren’t suicidal. Because that’s what you are, Remy. You think you’re better off dead. Even if you don’t have a plan, you’re suicidal. And...and I don’t want to lose another friend. Not again. So maybe you don’t need help. Maybe you can struggle on your own. But how much longer will you muddle through until you break? Until you decide that being dead has every benefit and being alive has none? Until you actually try to kill yourself?! Maybe you don’t need help, which I disagree with, but for the sake of your argument let’s go along with it. If you don’t need help, but you were offered help, offered a chance to let go of some of that baggage, offered a way to lighten your load, wouldn’t you want that? Wouldn’t you want to feel better?”

Remy stared at Emile a long, long time. Emile thought that Remy was finally seeing Emile’s point. Maybe he’d agree. Maybe he’d say he would at least try. Maybe he would at least back down off the ledge again. But maybes weren’t anything to base hope on. “How do I know that I’d still be me?” Remy asked. “If they pump me full of meds and make me talk about my feelings, I’ll just be a zombie. Being hurt is better than being nothing.”

Emile ran his hands through his hair. “Are you genuinely that thick?! Do you not understand what you’re doing here?! You’re killing yourself, Rem! You say college is going to kill you! You and I make a plan to fix that, at least so that you can stick around a little while longer, and then your parents come into the equation and mess everything up! You don’t have to deal with your parents if you don’t want to! Tell them a false address, tell them that you don’t want to see them ever again and kick them out, hell, file a restraining order! You don’t have to go through medication and therapy, not if you’re not ready, so long as you take the stressor out of the equation! And for the record, medication that works correctly won’t make you feel like a zombie, it’ll make you feel like a healthy person! Which, if you ask me, is way better than being hurt! You say your parents and college are trying to kill you? Well, you’re doing it to yourself as well! How can you not see that?!”

Remy stared at Emile with such betrayal in his eyes that Emile was pretty sure Remy might launch himself out of the window there and then. “I don’t need a therapist,” Remy said. “And I don’t need medication.”

“For crying out loud, Remy,” Emile said, running his hands through his hair. “You’re a classic case of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder! PTSD! Do you know what PTSD is?”

“It’s that thing that soldiers get from war. But I’m not a soldier,” Remy said.

“No, but based on what I’ve gathered from your life, you grew up in a war zone,” Emile ground out. “Your parents are not good people. You have every right to hate them. But don’t let them dictate your life. If you keep repeating their rhetoric about how you don’t need a therapist, how you don’t need meds, how you’re too strong and that those things are a sign of weakness, you’re letting them win. Spite them. Admit that you sometimes need help. Maybe don’t get meds and a therapist. Maybe only get one or the other. But don’t let yourself waste away because of something said by the very people you hate in the first place.”

Remy stared at Emile again. “You genuinely care,” Remy said, sounding almost...mystified.

“Yes, Remy, I do,” Emile said.

“Why?” Remy asked.

“Because you’re my friend, idiot. I want to see you happy. Friends want to see their friends happy, and want to make sure they’re safe, and living well.” Emile shook his head. “But I’ll tell you this: no matter if you’re my friend or not, I have to take care of my own mental health first. And if you refuse help, you know what’s going to happen?”

“What?” Remy asked, tilting his chin up.

“Then I’ll cut you off,” Emile said. “If you’re going to hurt yourself, and me in the process, then we can’t be friends anymore. That’s the way this works. I’m my first priority. You should be your first priority. And because I’m my first priority, and you aren’t, then if you’re going to hurt me I won’t be able to handle you.”

Remy blinked. “You serious?” he asked. “You would...leave me out to dry?”

“You’d be doing that to yourself,” Emile said. “I’ve given you plenty of opportunities to get help. You’ve turned every last one of them down. Get help, or at least get rid of your parents. If not, and you keep spiralling, I won’t be able to catch you. You’ll hit rock bottom and have to climb your way back up on your own.”

Remy stared at Emile long and hard. Emile met his gaze. Slowly, Remy’s eyes drifted away and he sighed. “Do you know any shrinks around here who deal with that...PTS-whatever thing you talked about?”

“As a matter of fact, I have found a few from studying psychology and asking around about resources,” Emile said. “Would you want a list of different people you can try?”

“...Yeah,” Remy said. “If it means I can still be friends with you, then yeah.”

[chocoluckchipz]

The Other You - 4

Read it on A03, FF.net, WattPad

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Adrien stood in front of the Gabriel building with a cup of coffee and a bag of freshly-baked goods in his hands at five in the morning, ready to deal with whatever the company’s directors entrusted him with before he was due at his teaching job. This was a terrible idea from the start but, as experience had already shown him, it was a much better choice to tackle the unknown and confusing tasks early in the day, rather than after handling a few classes filled with teenagers. So, filled with determination, Adrien opened the front door and stepped inside. The faster he got to his office, the sooner he’d be free to torture his students with a test on the dynamics of spinning tops before mercifully shifting the lesson into quantum physics territory.

Adrien greeted the security guards and swiftly ran up the stairs to the designers’ floor. Having almost reached his office at the end of the hallway, he paused, noticing a light coming from under one of the doors. Someone must have forgotten to turn it off before leaving the office yesterday. People here did tend to overwork. That someone was probably too tired to remember flicking the switch off and would most likely be scolded for that by their manager in a few hours. Without a second thought, Adrien headed for the door. He was already here; he could make someone’s day better by fixing their mistake before it was noticed. He didn’t expect to see anyone in the room, let alone a half-asleep Marinette who looked like she had just survived an apocalypse. Her name involuntarily escaped his lips. The look she gave him was unsettling.

“It’s five a.m.” Adrien braved. “What are you doing here so early?”

“Working. Can’t you tell?” Marinette answered, returning her attention to the garment in front of her.

He brushed away the thought of intervening and sending Marinette home to rest as soon as it sprung into his mind. If their previous encounters had taught him anything, it was that Marinette didn’t want his help. And frankly, no matter his intentions to help her, Adrien wasn’t and didn’t plan on becoming Marinette’s babysitter any time soon. He did secretly plan to find her a new job, but that would be it. She was a grown woman. Surely, she would go home when she’d had enough.

Still, looking at her, something tightened in his chest. Adrien glanced at the food in his hands and carefully walked into the room, placing his untouched cup of coffee along with his box of pastries in front of the exhausted woman. Marinette looked at him silently, nothing but malice lurking in her eyes; eyes that were once so kind to him.

“I think you need these more than I do,” he mumbled, half-expecting to hear ‘I don’t need anything from you’ in return. Strangely enough, Marinette said nothing. Not wanting to take his chances, Adrien silently walked out and closed the door behind him.

The following week, Adrien spotted Marinette a few times in the company’s hallways and by the looks of it, she felt none better, if not worse. Just yesterday, for example, he saw her leaning on the vending machine looking rather faint as she waited for a granola bar to fall out. All his attempts to start a conversation to get to the bottom of her exhaustion or to suggest she get some rest were either ignored or aggressively but politely shut down.

However, even more than Marinette’s less than stellar condition, it was a text message Adrien received that day that genuinely shocked him. He almost choked on air and dropped his cell phone when a name he’d never expected to see again popped up on his screen.

Nino: Adrien, I know I’m probably the last person you want to hear from, and I wouldn't blame you if you delete this and never reply, but I think an apology is long overdue. For whatever it's worth, Alya and I regret and apologize for not believing you all those years back. We've learned the hard way that you were right about what working for your father would do to Marinette, so we thought you at least deserve an apology, however late it is. I do realize there's no way to fix anything now, but I hope this would make it at least a little better.

Adrien would have been lying if he said he didn't want to delete the text immediately and forget it ever existed, but the events of the last week kept his cellphone screen lit, his thumb hovering over the virtual keyboard for quite some time yet never making contact. Soon, Adrien closed the app and pushed his cell phone to the side, only to pick it up five minutes later and reread the message. He shoved his phone into his bag. Five minutes later, Adrien was reading the cursed text again. An hour after that, he still couldn't let it go, neither reply nor ignore.

Damn it.

First of all, how did Nino get his new number? Second, why would he text him all of a sudden? There had to be a reason, one serious enough to force Nino to contact Adrien after years of silence. His former best friend didn't so much as send him condolences when his father passed away. Not that it mattered much because Adrien was neither on speaking terms with his father nor was he even able to attend the funeral himself. Instead, he had been stuck at the emergency room with an especially nasty case of food poisoning, wishing he’d stuck with his usual takeout instead of thinking he could cook for himself. Still, what prompted Nino to reach out now? What did he want? What happened and what did Adrien have to do with it?

The young man groaned, dropping his head on a table. He needed to focus on his work instead of trying to pinpoint the underlying reason of why exactly his former best friend suddenly felt the need to message him an apology. Because one thing was clear—this wasn’t just a random call of conscience, and as far he could surmise, it had everything to do with Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

“Hey, kid.”

Too engrossed in his mental turmoil, Adrien didn’t even look at his little companion flying close. “What?”

“Want a snack?” Plagg plopped in front of him on the table. “Food makes everything better, and you look a bit too sour for my liking.”

Adrien didn't answer, watching the soft glow of the screen. Despite his better judgement, he was concerned about Marinette. That much he couldn't deny because the present state of that woman was neither normal nor healthy by any stretch of the imagination. They might not be friends anymore, but as a fellow human being, Adrien couldn’t help but be concerned. As the CEO of Gabriel, he couldn’t afford to have one of his employees kick the bucket due to overworking.

“I guess a snack it is, then,” sounded nearby, but Adrien was too distracted to pay attention. What if Marinette was in some kind of trouble dangerous enough for Nino to step over his pride and contact him? What was going on, and why the hell did he still care for what was happening to her? Why did he want to reply to that message? Why were memories of the four of them hanging out together back in the day flashing through his mind all of a sudden? Why hadn’t Adrien deleted the message yet? The message from a former best friend who had betrayed him when he needed him the most?

“Open wide,” Plagg shouted in his ear.

Adrien jerked up. “Pla—”

Something soft and smelly was unceremoniously shoved into his mouth.

“There.” Plagg rubbed his paws together. “You’ll feel better in no time, kid.”

Tears pooled in his eyes as the unmistakable taste and smell of Camembert attacked his every sense. Finding the nearest trash bin, Adrien spat the grossness out and glared at his kwami. “What’s wrong with you?! You know I hate your cheese.”

“What’s the matter?” Plagg grinned. “You look more alive already. Told ya you’d feel better!”

Adrien growled and flipped his phone screen down, dropping his head on the table and covering it with his hands.

A weak knock on the door a moment later forced him to sit back up.

“Come in,” Adrien called and stood up to greet the visitor.

A petite girl stepped into the room. She looked familiar, though he wasn’t sure how he knew her.

“M Agreste?” she asked shyly, walking to his table with a sheet of paper in her hands. “I am really sorry to bother you so late, but I wanted to give you this today.”

She put the paper on the table, and Adrien immediately knew what it was.

“You’re quitting?”

“I really am sorry, M Agreste,” the girl mumbled. “But I received a proposition from a different company, and given the circumstances, I’m inclined to accept it.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Adrien smiled at her. “A new job is nothing to apologize for, especially with how things are currently going here. Congratulations.”

“Thank you, M Agreste.”

“Where were you working?” Adrien asked, curious as to where he remembered her from.

“I was Mlle Dupain-Cheng’s assistant,” the girl replied.

“Oh,” slipped from his lips as Adrien remembered. He had seen her trailing behind Marinette a few times, but always too focused on the physical ruin of the first, he barely noticed the other.

“Does she know you’re leaving?” he asked absentmindedly.

“No.”

Adrien frowned. “You didn’t inform your direct supervisor you were quitting?”

“Please, don't judge me,” the girl replied quietly, shying away with every word. “Not to be ungrateful or mean to Mlle Dupain-Cheng, but I was afraid to tell her. She isn't herself these days. She's more stressed and exhausted than ever, and me quitting would be a cherry on the top of her already huge pile. But, please, M Agerste, try to understand… I can't continue like this. It was either quitting or going insane alongside Mlle Dupain-Cheng.”

Adrien froze. ‘Going insane’ was a strong choice of words, but unsurprisingly, he couldn’t find it within himself to disagree or object to that statement. Marinette did look the part these days… maybe not ‘going insane’ mentally, but ‘going insane’ with exhaustion and overworking, for sure. Was Marinette even sleeping? She definitely ate. He saw her grabbing that granola bar a day prior, so she must be eating at least something—

“I’ll go now,” the girl said, intruding in his thought process.

“Wait—” Adrien reached out, but stopped halfway. He promptly pulled his hand back and rubbed the back of his neck. Quickly glancing at the paper, he asked, “Mlle Ardoin, right? Do you know what happened? I mean, what pushed Mlle Dupain-Cheng to such extremes?”

The girl shook her head. Her gaze dropped to the floor for a moment or two before she visibly gathered some courage and looked straight at him. “Can I tell you something in confidence?”

Adrien nodded.

“I suspect…” Mlle Ardoin paused, breathed in and then continued. “I know it sounds crazy, but I suspect that Mlle Dupain-Cheng doesn’t leave work at all.”

Adrien couldn’t help but frown in surprise. “What do you mean?”

“She’s always here,” the girl replied, clenching her hands together as she looked to the side. “I usually arrive before anyone else does, but Mlle Dupain-Cheng is already working. When we leave, she’s always staying behind to finish something. Last week she wore the same outfit for three days in a row, and then another one for the rest of the week. She’s never done that before. Her hair isn't styled as usual either; she just ties it in a sloppy ponytail which, again, she’s never done before. Mlle Dupain-Cheng used to always look impeccable. Now, she’s a mess. Last Thursday, I noticed a small bag with personal hygiene essentials, makeup, and some clothes. There’s also a small suitcase standing in the corner, behind one of the shelves. And judging by the sheer amount of work she manages to do when she stays behind, I can assume she stays up at least half the night, which leaves little time to go home, sleep, and come back before everyone else does.”

Adrien’s frown deepened with every word as he processed the information. It wasn’t hard enough evidence, but still suspicious. “I’ll look into it, Mlle Ardoin. Thank you for informing me.”

“Please, don’t tell her I said anything, M Agreste,” the girl pleaded. “I only told you because Mlle Dupain-Cheng was such an amazing person when we first started working together, always a hard worker and more talented than any of us. That’s why your father noticed her and let her develop her own line. But what’s going on with her now isn't normal. It hurts me to see her like this. Please, M Agreste, if you can help her, do so. She deserves it.”

It took him a few moments to respond, his mind gripped by worry. “Thank you again for letting me know, Mlle Ardoin. I’ll see if there is anything I can do.”

Before leaving, the girl said a few more things Adrien didn’t pay much attention to as his thoughts raced back to Marinette. From everything he had witnessed in this last week, one thing was clear—Marinette had become like his father. That cold, dismissive, and hostile way she was treating him… Adrien shivered. Did he really want to get involved with that kind of destructive attitude again? When he was a child, he didn’t have a choice but to tolerate his father’s treatment. Now, Adrien had options. He could ignore this annoying feeling that told him to help Marinette and let her be if that was the way she wanted to exist.

So, why? Why did he still want to help her? She'd thrown him away without so much as a chance to explain. He shouldn't care. Why did he?

Adrien swore under his breath and sat down. Thoughts ran wildly inside his mind as he debated what he could lose this time if he did decide to get involved despite everything.

Friends? He had no one close to him right now. A couple of acquaintances, but no real friends. Burned once, Adrien had never fully opened his heart for anyone else. Work? He almost laughed. There was no way he’d lose his teaching career because of Marinette. She had nothing to do with it. He doubted she even knew he was a teacher, much less which high school he worked at. His ‘leading the fashion empire’ gig? He wouldn’t mind losing that at all. It was a test run, anyway. Family? He had none. Money? He had more than enough. Love? He trusted Ladybug. He trusted that she knew him better than to question his intentions and character should anything go awry.

“More snacks?” Plagg’s voice dripped with mockery and arrogance.

With a groan, Adrien closed his eyes and dropped his head on his desk for the umpteenth time. He should probably stop doing that or he risked getting a bruise on his forehead. Adrien grumbled incoherently, his sight landing on an untouched pile of papers. He should do some work and forget for a few moments about former friends in need who wanted neither his help nor him anywhere close to them.

“So, your Princess is even more troublesome than you thought?” Plagg snarled nearby.

“She’s not my Princess.” Adrien snapped.

“She used to be.” Plagg shrugged.

Adrien closed his eyes. That old nickname he had for Marinette held so many memories within it—memories of good times when they didn't have to think about important stuff and could just have fun. He missed those times so much. Beneath all his resentment, Adrien had to admit that he did miss his friends, and only now was he starting to realize just how much. Why did everything have to change? Why did they have to change? Why did he have to mess up so badly? Even being Chat Noir was more fun back then. Adrien’s lips split in a bittersweet smile as he remembered how after patrols Chat Noir would sometimes sneak onto Marinette’s balcony for a croissant or two. They used to be friends—

Adrien jolted up. Wait a minute!

“Uh-uh!” Plagg whistled.

Adrien stared blankly in front of himself. Chat Noir and Marinette used to be friends, but she didn't know his civilian identity. Chat Noir had stopped going over to Marinette's after Adrien's fiasco, but he'd never explained the reason to her. For all she knew, he could've moved away or gotten too busy for visits.

A mischievous grin sneaked onto Adrien’s lips—something that hadn't happened in a long while. He had a plan.

Plagg narrowed his eyes at his wielder. “You look like you’re about to do something really stupid, kid.”

“You might be right, for once,” Adrien replied with renewed fire in his voice because he might have just found a way to help Marinette without her knowing anything about his involvement. At first, Adrien had thought he could find her another job and be done with it, but if anything, the last week had shown him how impossible that was without Marinette on board. Talking to her about it was out of the question, seeing as she had dismissed him every time he had as little as simply approached her. He had to come up with an alternative, and this might just be it.

This time, however, Adrien wouldn’t repeat his past mistakes. He wouldn’t rush into anything without gathering all the information on Marinette and her current situation first and then thinking everything through. Hesitantly, Adrien glanced at his cell phone. What would be the best way to start on this if not by talking to one of Marinette’s closest friends?  

“Kid, are you sure?” Plagg landed on his cell phone before Adrien could grab it. “Do you really want to poke that wasp nest again?”

“I can’t just sit back and watch her kill herself.” Adrien pulled his cell phone out from under his kwami. “Not when I can do something about it.”

“Even after everything she put you through?”

“I’m not exactly all that innocent myself.”

Plagg silently watched Adrien for a few moments before scoffing. “Fine. Do what you want. Just don’t come crying to me when she wrecks you again.”

“Don’t worry. That won’t happen. I’m not planning on getting anywhere near that close.”

“Yeah, like you can help yourself.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Kid, you always give anything you do your whole self, and this won’t be an exception. You will end up with a broken heart again. Mark my words.”

Adrien sighed. “Thank you for caring, Plagg, but I’ve learned my lesson. I’ll remain as impartial as possible. But if it’ll make you feel better, I’ll buy a bucket of ice cream and deal with any broken hearts myself. If they even happen, which I highly doubt.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Plagg grumbled and flew away.

Adrien started typing.

Adrien: Even if it’s awfully late, an apology is always appreciated.

Adrien: I do wonder, though, what brought this on all of a sudden?

Nino’s reply was almost immediate.

Nino: I can explain everything in an essay under one thousand words over the text, or I could tell you everything face to face over lunch. Would it be too much too soon?

Yes, it would be, but if Nino wanted to meet after years of hostility, it might be more serious than Adrien thought.

Adrien: I've lived through worse. I can handle lunch.

A few minutes later, a lunch date with a former friend was secured. Adrien glanced at his watch. His eyes widened. Eleven in the evening? How didn’t he notice the time? Then… It might just be the perfect time for what he wanted to do. Abruptly, Adrien stood, the smirk never leaving his face.

“Kid? What’s—”

“Plagg, claws out!”

He leapt out the window and looked around. Sure enough, apart from his, there was only one other window lit, and he suspected he knew exactly who was in that room. Quietly, Chat Noir got closer and peeked in. Marinette was standing with her back to the window, working on a dress hanging on a mannequin. Little by little Chat climbed in as quietly as he could, and when his feet were safely grounded on the window sill, he produced the most seductive smile he could muster in this situation—he needed her to like him, or it was all for nothing—and purred.

“Long time no see, Princess.”

With a gasp, Marinette almost jumped in place; the scissors in her hands hit the floor with a crash as she jolted around, a look of fear and dismay on her face. His heart clenched. Dark circles under her eyes, a messy hairdo and a look of extreme fatigue on her face, Marinette looked like she was at the end of her physical limit. She even needed a moment to recognize him. When she did, her eyes widened, a smile brightening her face. She reached forward, parting her lips to say something, but before she could, her eyes fluttered closed and her body went limp, collapsing into the quick-reacting arms of Chat Noir.

Next >

[himbowelsh]

Hi there! Could we also get a Valentines A-Z for Eugene Roe? I am hopelessly in love with that man

valentines day alphabet  ( accepting! )

aren’t we all, anon? aren’t we all

A   :   AFFECTION.   how does your muse show affection?

Very subtly. Eugene Roe isn’t a “words” man  ---  his language is action, tiny gestures which show the people he loves how much he cares. When Gene cares, he cares a whole lot...  so it’s important to him to do things for the people around him. He’ll fix a broken fence without asking, clean his mother’s kitchen, replace a vase of flowers if they’re starting to wilt. Little, practical things, which nonetheless show a depth of care for the other person, and an understanding of exactly what they need in that moment. If he’s really close to someone  ---  at a point where he feels perfectly comfortable with them   ---   he’ll also offer physical affection from time to time.

B   :   BOUQUET.   does your muse like flowers? which ones are their favourite?

He actually knows a surprising amount about flowers and herbology, just from watching his mother, a passionate gardener. He’s not fond of store-bought bouquets. If possible, he’ll throw something together himself, just from what can be found in the local gardens, and it’ll look damn lovely.

C   :   CHOCOLATE.   does your muse like chocolate? which one is their favourite?

He’s not going to go feral over it, but he’s got a healthy appreciation for chocolate.

D   :   DATE.   what is your muse’s ideal date? where / who with / etc?

He’d love to do something outdoors. Maybe a picnic in a quiet place, on a sunny day, with a canopy of trees proving shade overhead. Dappled sunlight falls across his bare arms as he stretches out on the blanket, leaning slightly against his partner; they made sandwiches while he brought lemonade and fruit; the chocolate chip cookies are freshly-baked. There’s no chill in the air. Somewhere close, birds are chirping. The entire world seems completely at peace, and he’s so happy to be enjoying it with someone he loves.

E   :   EMBRACE.   does your muse like hugs? what are their hugs like?

Gene’s really not a hugger...  so when he does seek out physical affection, it means something. Maybe he’s emotionally exhausted, or maybe recognizes the other person needs it in the moment; at any rate, his hugs are like finally exhaling a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. They’re not too much, but just enough to leave someone feeling relieved, like a weight’s been lifted from their shoulders.

F   :   FLIRT.   is your muse good at flirting? how do they flirt?

He’s got gorgeous eyes. We know that. Say that dark gaze locks with someone else across a crowded room, and draws them in instead of letting go...   or perhaps they’re close enough that it’s easy to brush up against each other just slightly, hands accidentally caressing each other when reaching for the same thing...  Gene’s flirting is very subtle, and has no right to be as seductive as it is.   (Please note:  this is strictly Sober Gene. Sober Gene and Drunk Gene are two very different people. Drunk Gene gives lapdances.)

G   :   GIFT.   is your muse good at gift - giving or do they struggle to get it right?

He’s okay at it. No one would call him a gift-giving master. Sometimes he gets it right and sometimes he gives Lewis Nixon a chia pet. When Gene gives great gifts, it’s clear how much effort he put into it; when he misses the mark completely, it’s hard to tell if he put any effort in at all.

H   :   HEART.   is your muse quick or slow to give their heart away?

He’s guarded by necessity. Gene keeps his heart locked away behind no less than a dozen fortified walls. Breaking through them requires a wrecking ball, chocolate, and a lot of determination. He’s cautious, because when he cares he can’t help caring deeply, and quietly dreads the inevitability of getting hurt...  but sometimes letting people in is worth the risk. He’s...  still working on realizing that.

I    :   I LOVE YOU.   does your muse find ‘i love you’ easy or hard to say?

...  more difficult than it has any right to be. Again, Gene’s not great at the whole “expressing his feelings” thing. If he’s in love, he wants his partner to know it...  but coming right out and declaring it is one of the hardest things in the world. He’d hedge his bets, working to show them his love rather than spelling it out. If he has a very verbally demonstrative partner, he’d be able to say it more easily over time, just because he’s used to hearing it...  but on the rare occasions Gene does say “I love you”, it’s that much more precious, because he’s feeling it so intensely in the moment that he can’t keep it inside.

J   :   JEALOUSY.   does your muse get jealous in a relationship?

Oh, yeah. Ye-eeahh. Not over just anything, but blatantly obvious things  ---  like seeing someone flirting with his partner, or touching them shamelessly... it gets Gene riled up. He’ll loom over the interaction, not saying a word, but silently intimidating the hell out of the interloper until he backs down...  and once he has, Gene steps up. He and his partner usually have to make themselves scarce quickly, because Gene can’t refrain from touching them. As soon as they’re alone...  all bets are off. Instinct takes over; all Gene can do is press them up against the wall and kiss them, hard and hot, until all thoughts of that other fool have flown out of their head.

K   :   KISS.   is your muse a good kisser? why / why not?

Gene starts out shy...  but, with the right encouragement from his partner, finds his footing very quickly. Uses touches very sparingly, but with great effect; tends not to linger in a kiss for long, parting for air just to allow his breath to caress his partner’s flushed lips, before diving back in for more. When he really gets into it, Gene becomes hungry, clutching harder at his partner, sucking at their lips and gasping in the short pauses for breath.

L   :   LOVE.   who does your muse love?

He’s very devoted to his family, especially his grandmother when she was alive; Gene loves his hometown, everything about it, and he loves the people he’s grown up alongside. Certain people, like Babe and Renee, hold places of honor in his heart; once he’s grown to care for someone that much, he’ll do literally anything for them.

M   :   MOONLIGHT.   is morning or night a more romantic setting?

Gene is a morning person. It’s not by choice. If he knew how to sleep in, he absolutely would, but his body just isn’t wired that way. He tries to be romantic at night, but after a long day, he’s usually crashing by around midnight. Obviously when he forces himself to, he can stay up (copious amounts of caffeine helps) but any time he’s got the time is a romantic time, far as he’s concerned.

N   :   NAUGHTY.   what is your muse like in bed?

Gene is intense to the point that it’s nearly overwhelming. His caresses, his movements, his kisses...  everything is charged with an electricity that can become overwhelming if his control slips.  He’s a demanding lover, giving his partner little time to rest;  his hands are doing one thing while his mouth is doing something else, all designed to elicit a reaction from his partner. It’s not something he thinks through in the moment   ---   Gene’s a purely instinctual lover, but he’s got some great instincts. Loves to have his mouth on his partner’s neck, slowly trailing down to their bare chest. He’s silent in bed, but vocal partners really do it for him; he could get off on his lover’s moans alone.

O   :   ODE.   does your muse have a way with words?

Oooooh no, he’s not a “words” man at all! Gene struggles to verbalize his emotions; for as much as he feels deeply, getting those feelings out is like trying to speak a language he’s never learned. People close to Gene must learn to read his expressions and gestures, as well as his variety of “hmms”, because they say a lot more about how he’s feeling than he ever could.

P   :   PARTNER.   what does your muse look for in a partner? looks / personality?

Gene needs someone who cares. Not just for him, but...  about lots of things. Everything. Gene is drawn to people whose compassion is endless, who make the room seem a little kinder for their presence. He also appreciates someone who can lighten the mood, because maybe he gets a little grim at times, and who can get him to smile even on his roughest days. He’d love someone with a good singing voice, and a grounded side, even if they don’t show it that often.

Q   :   QUESTION.   would your muse ask the big question or expect their partner to?

(Go down and read ‘WEDDING’ first!) Once he’s made his mind up, asking is a piece of cake. He doesn’t go all out with the ring  ---  Gene’s not gonna marry someone who needs a huge rock on their finger, and frankly he can’t afford it  ---  but he finds the perfect place to propose. At the top of a hill, under a tree he used to climb as a little boy  ---  maybe the same place they had their picnic  ---  he won’t drop to one knee, but pull his partner close and slip the ring out of his pocket. A quiet “If you’ll have me,” is all it takes to make his intentions clear.

R   :   ROMANCE.   is your muse a romantic or a cynic?

He’s shy about his romantic side; it’s not something he likes showing off, because he feels a little silly for being taken in by all those fairytale ideas. Gene would love a scene out of a Disney movie  ---   rowing on the river with his partner with fireflies all around, or kissing each other in the rain. Thing is, those aren’t realistic things to want, especially not from someone who considers himself so grounded. Gene’s romantic nature is buried under a heavy layer of practicality, but he can be heartrendingly romantic when the situation is right. 

S   :   SWEETHEART.   did your muse have a childhood sweetheart?

Nah. He was a real wild child in elementary school, and most of the girls were wary of him. By middle and high school, he kept to himself more, and didn’t have much interest in dating.

T   :   TRUE LOVE.   does your muse believe in true love?

He...  genuinely doesn’t know. Maybe it’s real for some people, but until he’s experienced it himself, hard to say. It’s not something he thinks a lot about.

U   :   UNREQUITED.   has your muse had their heart broken?

He’s been burned before, and that’s hurt enough. Gene isn’t eager to have his heart broken entirely.

V   :   VALENTINE.   how does your muse feel about valentine’s day?

Lowkey, Gene would love to do something nice for Valentine’s Day...  but he’d be hesitant at scheduling something himself, both because he’s bad at planning surprises, and because he wants his partner to enjoy themselves just as much as he is. He’d straight out ask them, “what do you want to do for Valentine’s Day?” and they can brainstorm from there. As soon as they’ve got a good idea, Gene will work out all the technical details...  and from there, they can just enjoy the day.   (Even if they’re not doing anything, he never forgets to get his partner chocolate, because that’s just a Valentine’s Day tradition that can’t be ignored.)

W  :   WEDDING.   would your muse get married? why / why not?

He...  doesn’t plan on it, no. Doesn’t actively plan on it. It’s not something he has any interest in, or gives any consideration to, until he meets the right person. At some point in the relationship   ---   once he’s it’s casually occurred to him, “yeah, this feels right, I could do this forever”   ---  the realization will hit him like a ton of bricks. He wants to get married. He wants to spend the rest of his life with this person. He feels nothing for the idea of marriage, but everything for the person involved, so they’re his deciding factor.

X   :   XOXO.   does your muse use / like pet names?

He’s veeeery sparing with nicknames. The only times he’ll use them are when he wants to put someone at ease  (like when someone’s injured, and formalities have to be dropped, because they’re already panicked enough)  or when he’s very close to someone. All his family has nicknames, and Gene uses those without a second thought; if he cares deeply for someone, it’s way easier to be informal with them. For a partner, he’ll still be sparing with pet names, but may throw out the occasional “cher/chere”.

Y   :   YOURS.   does your muse get protective easily?

We talked about the jealousy thing, right? Gene’s protective streak is on a completely different level. He’ll throw down for the people he cares about, no question. For such an unassuming man, he can be fierce when pushed to it, and the one thing guaranteed to set him off is seeing someone he loves threatened.

Z   :   ZZZ.   how many people has your muse slept with?

He had a few girls back home   ---  teenage experimentation, and it never really went beyond that. He’s also got that sexy Catholic Guilt going on, so he feels a bit bad about it; sleeping around is not for him. At most, Gene’s had...  two previous partners.

[florenceandthemachine]

since we’re back on our bullshit pls consider: jackson in glasses and stiles losing his mind at how soft he looks in them thank u and goodnight

now that we.... back on our bullshit?

“hey Siri were we ever not on our bullshit?” “no”

“ok ty”

anyway here’s a little short thing because the only thing Stiles loves more than Jackson is Jackson in some big handsome dorky frames, ahahaha ha h a!!!!!!  what a nerd, am I right? h haha hahahhahhh!!!

--

Jackson would probably get them in college. He’s getting his pre-law stuff out of the way so he can get into law school a year early, and taking an accelerated program even then so he can graduate at the same time as Stiles does with his masters in criminal justice.

(And partially because his parents said that they would pay for his schooling, which in Jackson’s mind meant the sooner he was done with school, the sooner he could burn that bridge and never look back.)

He got accepted into UCLA, and accepted because he wanted to go there, thank you very much, not because most of the pack had been accepted there as well. And Stilinski, for some reason, how had such a weird level of scholarship fuckery that he basically had a full ride—Jackson could admit that was impressive, because if anyone knew what it was like to fuck the system so successfully, it was Jackson. 

As great as college would be, as great as it would be for Jackson to become more independent, and more reliant on himself and the pack, as great as it would be for Jackson to have his own “great bi awakening” (”shut the fuck up, Stilinski, I swear to Christ—”).... college would be a whole new realm of issues for him. 

The most annoying was easily the least problematic—staring at screens for ten hours a day hurt his fucking eyes.

It didn’t seem to be something that could be helped, either—staring away from the screen helped his supernatural healing kick in, sure, but the irritation came back as soon as he was looking at his laptop.

Old Jackson would have probably shut up and stared at his laptop screen until he went blind, because he was NOT one to deal with things in a healthy manner. 

New Jackson was.... a little better, in that it only took him a few weeks before he asked Derek what the fuck was up. 

As it turned out, blue light was an issue for werewolves, so that was cool. 

It was an easy fix, but that didn’t mean that Jackson was thrilled about it. He had never had to wear glasses before—he had kind of hoped that becoming a werewolf was going to head that off at the pass before even age would affect his vision—so he was less than looking forward to the next pack study session. 

As usual, he was one of the last people to show up to the huge table they had basically claimed in the Darling Law Library (it was his week, next week would be in the Biomedical library for Lydia), and he slunk to the furthest end of the table before pulling out his glasses, glaring daggers at anyone who dared to make a remark.

They weren’t bad looking, of course. Jackson had basically picked out the nicest designer frames he could find, ignored anything having to do with a prescription, and paid extra for the blue light filters. The result was something he could live with—a nice dark frame, thick enough to add credibility to his profile without being bulky, stylish in a timeless way instead of something trendy that would be out of season in a year.

By the time Stiles showed up, they had already broken into their little teams—Allison and Lydia were flipping flash cards at a frankly impressive rate, Scott and Isaac were busy working on translations that neither of them were getting quite right (seriously the formal vous was not that difficult) and Jackson was nearly buried behind a pile of books. 

Truth be told, he had literally taken less than a minute to forget about the glasses—the relief from his headache was great, but nothing he could really focus on. So when Stiles sat beside him and Jackson looked up, catching his gaze, he literally had no idea why Stiles cut himself off and started to gape at him like a fish.

Jackson did the worlds slowest double take when, typing up several more passages from law textbook, he saw Stiles still staring at him. He moved to push his glasses up, and—oh fuck, that’s right, he was wearing glasses—and suddenly Stiles’ staring took on a whole new tone. 

“Can I help you?” he snapped, his self consciousness coming out in a sneered whisper that would probably have been much curler sounding if he had any volume in his voice. Stiles, for what it was worth, seemed to shake out of his stupor.

“No, no, Jackson, you just... I mean... you have really nice eyes. I can’t believe I didn’t notice before.”

Jackson frowns, scanning the heartbeat for a lie, but Stiles is being honest... and that’s something that he’s not sure how to deal with quite yet, so he just shrugs it off. 

“All of me is pretty, Stilinski, now get to work.”

--

As Stiles was so fond of saying, once was an incident, twice was a coincidence, and three times was a pattern, and Jackson was pretty sure that he was up to six times and counting where he had adjusted his glasses, or pushed them up into his hair, or even tapped at the side of the frame, and had Stiles immediately snap his attention to him. 

Which wasn’t a bad thing, he figured. He was man enough to admit that he had definitely grown to appreciate how Stilinski grew into himself over their first year of college—gone was the awkward, s scrawny teenager, and in his place was a more confident, self respecting, young adult...

... who just seemed to revert back into a teenager whenever Jackson did something like, take off his glasses. Or clean his glasses. Or push his glasses up. Stiles would always falter in his step, or trail off in his speech, or—as Jackson noted, pulling his glasses off as he pretended to read and sticking one of the arms in his mouth—literally walk into a doorways.

And it just. Kept. Happening.

It got to the point where Stiles got a B on his midterm (which was NOT the end of the world, like Scott kept reassuring him, but for a perfectionist like Jackson... well, he could definitely relate to how stressed out Stiles got about it). 

He even started to try to leave his glasses at home when he could, but that was always a recipe for disaster. Because now that Jackson had noticed Stiles looking at him, it was all he could notice, even without his glasses off. The only difference was that he now had a headache, so he was already irritable, which meant he usually started snapping between the second and third time he caught Stiles staring at him, which meant that there was more than one study session where Lydia had sent them all home early.

The most recent of which ended in Jackson, sitting in his car, rubbing his temples and growling, as if that would help the headache. He had all but threatened to gut Stiles if he looked over one more time, and Lydia had taken a minute after declaring the session was over to mentally shake Jackson to death. 

“You two get to study alone next week until you can play nice. Whatever the fuck is going on, fix it. With him. Immediately.”

Jackson hated Lydia. Mostly because she was always right.

--

Since they had been banned from the library by She who Wields the Table Reservations, Jackson had decided to announce that they would be taking a study break—Stiles only seemed too happy to oblige, especially if Jackson’s idea of a night off was terrible food and bad movies. He had threatened Stiles under risk of bodily injury to secure the good couch on the fourth floor of the student union while he went and picked up far too much fast food for two growing boys, even if one was a bottomless pit and one was a werewolf.

“So, are you finally going to ask me out or what?” Jackson asked, an hour into their “study session” where neither of them had even attempted to crack a book yet. After giving up on forgoing the frames, he had started wearing the glasses more and more often—even when there wasn’t a laptop in sight, just a couch and a table littered with wrappers from their greasy, delicious haul.

He figured it was the safest way to address the tension between them. Either Stiles would snap at him and storm off, or laugh about it and shrug things away, or they could actually fucking get somewhere like adults—Jackson wasn’t picky, he just wanted something to fucking progress.

Stiles promptly choked on a curly fry, looking at Jackson like he was crazy, opening his mouth to prepare for what Jackson knew was going to be a protest—so he was surprised when Stiles closed his mouth again, tilting his head. 

“Fine, but you better be taking me somewhere nice.”

Jackson laughed and threw another fry at him, shaking his head. “Fucking finally. Here I thought you just liked me for my glasses.” he said with a smirk, looking at Stiles over the rim of his glasses in a way that he knew would have Stiles blushing so prettily in no time flat.

Stiles tiled his head a little at that, a small smile on his face. “Don’t get me wrong, the glasses look is definitely... I mean, it’s.... god, you’re so pretty, but dude, just ask Lydia. I’ve been gazing longingly at you ever since you announced you wanted to go into family law to help make sure no kids wind up in your situation.”

Jackson frowned—that was at the beginning of freshman year, just over a year ago, there was no way—but Stiles heart was ringing true. 

Oh. 

“Oh.”

Jackson pinked up, and Stiles crooned.

(On Halloween, Stiles talks Jackson into doing a couples costume—Batman and Superman. Jackson shows up to Stiles’ apartment in a suit, tie, and his glasses, and Stiles—clad in his Batman suit—is pissed. All Jackson has to do is open his button down shirt to reveal the big “S” underneath and Stiles has to pick his jaw up off the floor.

“My hero.” he breathes.

They barely make it to Lydias party before midnight.)

[zankivich]

Neighbors: Shawn x Plus Size Reader Chapter 12

a/n: hi friends. I really liked writing this chapter. Idk I wanted to explore some themes that aren’t sunshines and rainbows. But I also wanted to explore what communication looks like and what a healthy relationship can look like. I’m trying to figure out what this relationship would genuinely look like through long distance. How do you make it work? How do you create a healthy dynamic with your partner? 

Warnings: smut, little angsty with some fighting.

*Shawn’s point of view*

The first time they get in a fight post actually being in a relationship is pretty terrible. It’s the worst because they’re not physically together. Instead they’re thousands of miles away from each other. At least after the fact. After the grammys, he goes home for a few more weeks before it’s time to start preparing for tour. And in that time they’re fine. They go out with their friends. They watch netflix when she comes home from work. They go to art museums and taking really sappy selfies in front of the artwork. They make love constantly. Usually the second she walks into the door. And it’s the best it’s ever been. It’s the best they’ve ever been. So good in fact that it never occurs to him that anything could go wrong. What could possibly go wrong?

They’re in the bedroom going through his closet as he packs again, only this time he’s feeling a little giddy because they’re packing to leave together. They’re supposed to be leaving together.

“I got you something.” He murmured moving to the section of his closet that he’d kept it hidden in.

“Shawn, you have got to stop buying me things.” She whined. “I’m gonna run out of places to put them.”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re so incredibly dramatic. I barely buy you anything, and you know it. If every time I wanted to get you something and you didn’t turn down my undying, unwavering love for you, maybe then we could talk.”

“Yes, I’m the dramatic one in this relationship. As long as we’re on the same page.”

Despite the fact that his girlfriend was mean to him, he still brought out her present. It was a suitcase. A tommy hilfiger suitcase to be more specific. It was sleek and pretty, and he was buying one for himself anyway, so why not get matching ones? He even stuck a bow on it, like a good ass boyfriend should. So, when he rolled it out in front of her and did a sort of ta-da moment, only for her face to fall, excuse him for being a little taken aback.

He peered down at his gift.

“It uh--it’s for our trip. I thought that it might be cute for us to have matching suitcases.” He sighed. “Maybe not?”

“No. It uh--it’s really sweet, baby; thank you.”

“But?”

She winced. “But uh...I’m not coming with you to London.”

“What?”

She scooted along to the edge of the bed reaching out for his hands, but he kept them perched on his hips.

“I just… I’ve been thinking about it, and I think it might be good for us, if I stay here.”

“What does that mean? Why would being away from each other be good for us?” He asked. “And when exactly were you gonna tell me you weren’t coming, y/n?”

“Well, we’ve been more or less together every single day since we became friends, Shawn. When you’re not at work we’re either in my apartment, or yours, or at one of our favorite restaurants. Or watching movies.”

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize you were suffering in silence this whole time. I kind of thought my girlfriend might want to hang out with me. My mistake.”

She sighed. “You’re getting defensive. Can you just try to listen to me for a second, please?”

“To be fair, you’re telling me you don’t want to be around me anymore. This is literally coming out of nowhere, y/n.”

“Look, fucking relax for a minute. I’m not saying I don’t want to be around you. I am saying I just need to take a step back for a second. I need to refocus myself. It’s got nothing to do with you.”

He could feel his face heating up, and he really didn’t have any idea how he was going to calm down. In all of the time they’d been at home she had never said anything. And it wasn’t like he was refusing to leave her apartment. She would always come home from work and knock on his door. She called him during lunch to complain about someone who sucked at her job. She loved cuddling for hours on end in bed and talking about the most random shit. It wasn’t just that he was angry, which quite frankly that was certainly part of it. It was that if he could go weeks and weeks on end thinking that they were okay, that they were better than okay, while she was feeling something completely different? What the hell did that say about him?

He took a deep breath his hands twitching anxiously at his sides. He hadn’t felt so far away from her in such a long time.

“S--so what is it then? Is it a break? Are we taking a break?”

“No! No, that is not what I’m saying, Shawn. Jesus.” She paused and took another deep breath. “I’m saying that I’m gonna be in Toronto. You’re gonna be in London. We’re still together. We’re still everything that we’ve been this whole entire time. I’m just not going to London with you. This is an opportunity for you to go do rehearsals, to be with your friends, to have a good time. This is not a death sentence.”

“What else could it possibly be? I’m gonna be away for the majority of the fucking year and now you pull this? Now all of a sudden, you want space? I’ve done this before, y/n. I’m not stupid. I know what this is!”

They’ve both got pretty out there personality types. His was a little more reserved, but once he got there in terms of emotion, he was  usually there for a minute. And she fed off the energy of those around her. So, when he raises his voice it’s like an instant response from her. And all of a sudden they’re having this blow up argument that neither of them saw coming.

“What the fuck are you even talking about right now?! You’re not being rational, Shawn! This is absolutely ridiculous. It’s like I’m speaking to a crazy person!”

“I’m not fucking crazy! This is about the grammys isn’t it? And the carpet and the photos. And how you looked. You can’t handle it, and now you’re scared, and now you’re just trying to let me down easy! I’m not some soft baby. I’m a grown ass man, and you can be honest with me!”

“What the hell do you mean, ‘how I looked’? What was wrong with how I looked?”

“I don’t know y/n, what the hell was wrong with how you looked?! I mean you’re so confident no one can touch you one second, and the next you're staring at Miley on the carpet like a lost puppy just because of her physical appearance. I am doing everything that I can to make things easier for you, but there’s only so much that I can do.”

There’s a moment in every argument where the entire tone shifts. Where it’s no longer just throwing loud words at one another. A point of no return, where you’ve been hurt and so you lash out, and you say the wrong thing. It’s that point where you’re no longer yelling to make yourself feel better, you’re yelling to hurt that person. Even if you don’t recognize it in that moment. And the second that she pauses, her eyes widening in shock, he knows that this thing just got worse. That they’re not gonna fix this tonight.

“You’ve got a hell of a lot of nerve.” She hissed immediately climbing out of his bed. “I don’t know who the fuck you think you are, but I don’t do relationships with people who don’t respect me. It is not my fault you’re so fucking insecure about how everyone views you and what everyone thinks about you. Not everything is layered in double meaning. I just wanted to stay the fuck home. Which is where I’ll be going tonight, because I can actually not even stand to look at you right now.”

“Wait. Wait--fuck! Don’t leave.”

“No! Go fuck yourself.”

She shoves past him and slams his bedroom door shut. A few moments later he can hear the door to his apartment give a similar slam. Just like that he’s alone with this ugly thing inside of him. It’s anger and fear and hurt and sadness. And the one person in the world who had consistently been around to fix it is suddenly gone. Just like that.

***

He woke up the next day in a terrible mood. His back hurt. He’d grown so use to wrapping his body around the softness that was his girlfriend, that a night apart was hell on his sleep cycle. The wake up call from Andrew telling him to get his ass to the airport, surely didn’t help things. He rushed to pull all of his clothes together into a new bag, because his tommy hilfiger suitcase no longer had the same feel. On his way out of the door, he peered over at her door. Since she wasn’t going anymore this was usually time she went to work. He couldn’t forget the hurt in her eyes when he’d said what he said last night. And he’d never forgive himself if he left without apologizing.

He knocked gently, biting his lip anxiously as he waited for her. It only took maybe forty-five seconds for him to figure out that she knew he was on the other side, and that she had zero intentions of answering.

“Babe,” He sighed knocking again. “y/n, please open the door.”

Silence.

“I...I know I fucked up, okay? I know that I hurt you. And I’m so sorry. I--I never meant to disrespect you. I just was hurt and I lashed out, and I just--fuck. Fuck, baby please open the door.”

He stays outside her door much longer than he has time for. He calls her and can hear her press ignore on his phone call, before turning her phone off all together. It’s not until the driver who was taking him to the airport called to tell him he had to leave, or he’d miss his flight, that he can find the will to move away from the door. Leaving is the hardest thing he’s ever done. And knowing that he couldn’t take it back, wasn’t gonna be able to fix it left him with his heart sad and hurting on his sleeve.

Brian’s in the car already waiting on him, and he’s got nothing to offer his best friend except for a shitty mood and a complete inability to hold a conversation as he tries desperately to text his girlfriend. It’s an absolute shit show. Go tour.

***

People quickly start to notice that he’s not happy. He’s not sure what gives it away, because he’s been trying like to hell to keep a smile on his face, but if the worried glances of Andrew, Cez, and Brian simultaneously hovering over him as he sits by himself between rehearsals are anything to go off of, clearly he’s doing it wrong. But, he was a little preoccupied trying to craft another text message to his girlfriend who seemed to hate his guts.

Meanwhile huddled in the corner, his team was trying to figure out what the hell to do with him.

“Brian, you flew with him here, what the hell’s been going on?” Andrew asked peering over as he moped quite pathetically.

“At first I thought it was because he just hadn’t slept much the night before, but then y/n wasn’t there to go to the airport with us, so I’m assuming it has something to do with that.” Brian explained.

“Shawn’s never this down for this long though.” Cez interrupted. “You really think he’s this broken up over her not being here?”

“Who the hell knows anymore?” Andrew sighed. “Sometime’s the kid is ready to bite my head off if I suggest they take different cars to and from the hotel. He’s protective as all get out over her.”

Brian snorted. “We went to a bar in Toronto a couple weeks ago, and they literally sat in the booth sharing a pitcher of long island with two straws and then making out until they ditched us to go hook up in a bathroom I think. Dude’s completely head over heels. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Tell us about it.” The rest of them said in unison.

“Does anyone know why y/n didn’t end up coming?” Andrew asked.

When even Brian shrugged, he figured it was time for his tour dad persona to make a re--appearance because apparently Shawn wasn’t talking to anyone about what was going on in his head.

He waited until their meeting that they had two times a day: one to go over everything for the day, and another to talk about the rest of the week/tomorrow. It’s always the only time where it’s just him and Shawn and it seems like the best way to go about things. When they sit down and Shawn’s leg is bouncing, and he keeps eyeing his phone on the table, and crossing and uncrossing his arms, Andrew couldn’t help but wonder if his client had ever been subtle a day in his life.

“Hey, so I figured we could skip the usual meeting and do something a little different today.”

Shawn shrugged. “Yea? How come?”

“I don’t know. I guess I thought there might be something you wanted to talk about, get off your chest maybe?”

“Oh Andrew, no. Please, don’t do the tour dad bit!” He immediately groaned. “I’m not sixteen anymore.”

“I know you’re not, bud. I do. It doesn’t mean you have to handle the entire world on your shoulders without ever asking for help, though.”

“I know that. I--I always reach out when I need it, don’t I?” He mumbled picking at nothing on his jeans.

“Usually you do. But, we’ve been in london for about a week now. I don’t like to pry at all, but you had me arrange for housing accomodations separate from the rest of us only to show up here and room with Brian in his hotel room. I also can’t help but notice that y/n isn’t here. And that except for when we’re running rehearsals or meeting fans, you’re not really here either. From the looks of it you’re not talking to anyone about it. So, yea, I’m a little concerned. I think we all are. But, it’s only because we care about you.”

Shawn seems to sink even lower into the couch, his shoulders slumping in on themselves. He wipes a hand over his mouth and then went to playing with his helix piercing with one hand while the other tangled up in his swallow necklace. Finding something physically to touch, always made him feel a little less anxious.

“Fine. We had a fight.” He sniffed. “Our first fight, actually.”

“Okay. That’s rough. What happened?”

He immediately groaned and covered his face with his hands.

“I’m a piece of shit, that’s what happened.”

“Do you wanna unpack that a little more for me?”

“It’s just like male fragile fucking ego right? Like I’m so insecure in myself and I don’t want to be alone, and you telling me that you don’t want to be with me in this moment, must mean that you don’t want to be with me at all. And I’m freaking out right? Because maybe it never made sense for you to want me in the first place.”

He’d been thinking about it a lot obviously.

“She just...she didn’t want to come to London with me.” He sighed completely deflated and defeated. “She said we’ve been spending all of our time together...and we have but I--I don’t want anything else when I’m with her. There was one day we were lying in bed all day. Like we genuinely never got out of bed except to like pee or grab snacks so that we could get back into the bed. I missed the gym for the first time in four months. But, it was the happiest I’d been in so long. And then you and I keep having these fights about me being too into her and not being focused...and then she tells me twelve hours before the flight that we need space apart, because we’ve spent every second together but like, I’m gonna be gone for the year. And I can’t help but be so fucking terrified that she’s not gonna want me anymore. That it won’t be worth it. That I’m not worth it.”

“Hey. Hey, you know that’s not true.”

He chuckled sadly. “I couldn’t convince my girlfriend to come to london for free and spend time with me, Andrew. She’d rather be at work.”

He’s sitting there so clearly hurting and running over the situation again and again in his head. Andrew hadn’t seen him like this over a woman maybe ever, and his willingness to find fault in himself was as startling as it was concerning.

“I really don’t think that’s it. I’m sure that it feels that way, and I get why it’s hard for you, I mean none of this is exactly the usual way of going about things. And maybe it’s your normal, and maybe you know exactly what things should be like, but just because it’s your normal doesn’t mean it’s her’s yet ya know? Did you ever actually sit down and talk to her about how she felt about your being away for so long?”

He shook his head softly. “N--No. Not exactly.”

“And we’ve talked about it before, she likes to internalize things right?”

“Yea. She does.”

“So maybe this is her way of doing that. Instead of talking to you about how much she misses you, she’s isolating herself instead cause it’s what she knows. I’m not sure what was said during your fight obviously, but I think it might do you both a little good to try and see things from the other’s perspective.”

So. Great. Andrew’s a genius, and he’s the dumbest fucker alive. There’s a shock.

“Fuck….Well she’s not answering my phone calls, texts, emails, instagram dms, or facetime requests. So, that’s gonna be a bit of a stretch there, but your suggestion sounds wonderful.”

They sat in silence for a minute, Shawn still glum and upset while Andrew stared on in empathy.

“Do you wanna fly back to her?”

Shawn’s head shot up at that. “Excuse me?”

“I know you think I’m out to get you and ruin all your fun sometimes, but I do actually care about your happiness and wellbeing. We’ve got just under a month to prepare. If you don’t mind taking the hit then neither do I. I’d rather have you at home and come back happy then sit here and be miserable.”

“A--Are you sure? Andrew, my whole job is to be here right now. To get ready for this live show.”

“Yes. But if this is what you need to do in order to do that then tell me, and I’ll the book the flight myself.”

It’s a total catch twenty-two. He wanted to apologize, needed to make things better between the two of them. But, she wasn’t answering his messages. And if he flew back maybe it would be helpful, but what if it wasn’t? What if it made her hate him even more because he hadn’t done the one fucking thing she asked of him--to stay away? And on the other end, if he didn’t go back, if he didn’t make things right, would the damage to their relationship be fixable thousands of miles apart?

“I just need a day. A day to check in, and talk to her and I’ll come right back I swear. This isn’t gonna be like this forever, Andrew, I promise.” He sighed.

“It’s fine. Let’s just get you the flight picked out as soon as we can okay?”

“Okay. Okay, thank you.”

“No problem. It’s what I’m here for.”

***

*y/n’s point of view*

You were standing at your desk, shoes off, hair pulled down, and a headache the size of vancouver. You hadn’t been sleeping well. You hadn’t been working well. There was tension swelling up in your shoulders and neck, which tended to happen when you felt like you were suffocating under the weight of the world. And that’s exactly how you felt.

Not returning Shawn’s calls was incredibly difficult. You missed the sound of his voice, and the feel of his hands on your hips, and the tickle of his hair on your neck. But, everytime the phone rang and you even thought about responding, you heard the words he said to you that night play back into your head. He had made you feel like a burden, had taken your genuine concerns and fears and held them completely against you. And so had you, you weren’t immature enough to think that you hadn’t. You knew you both were hurting. You just...felt a little more stubborn at first. And then as the first week of being a part was coming to an end, and the red hot anger had begun to cool, you didn’t know how to end the fight. It was your first one ever afterall.

You were standing there so wrapped up in your own thoughts that you didn’t even notice when you started searching for plane tickets, until you found one that left at eleven o'clock that night. You peered up at the clock on your wall to see that it was already a little after seven. Your boss would kill you if she found out…

“Hey, are you still fucking sitting at work?” Stu’s loud ass voice entered the room, as his face came up on the screen of your phone. “Sis, we have got to find you some better coping mechanisms.”

“Thank you Oprah, now can we get back to why I actually called you, or would you like to comment on the bags under my eyes too?”

He sighed. “Well I do have a cream for that, but please continue.”

“I need you to talk me out of buying a plane ticket tonight.”

“A plane ticket? Where to?”

You bit your lip anxiously. “To London?”

“To London?! You mean to see Shawn and stop being a little whiny, stressed out asshole. You called me, your best friend, to talk you out of the healthiest decision I’ve heard from you in weeks? I think not!”

You simply needed to get better friends.

“Shit.” You groaned mouse rolling over the button that would secure the purchase. “What if he doesn’t want to see me? We had a really bad fight Stu.”

“That man has been calling you twenty times a day. He emailed me for Christ’s sake. All he wants is to see you. Go to him please?”

“But--But what about work? I’m overseen by Gina now, if she found out I flew to London in the middle of the week?”

“She’d probably pay for the flight herself if she saw how stressed out you’ve been.” Stu snorted. “Look it’s Wednesday. We’ve already had our cross-collaboration meeting for the week. You’re allowed to take off Fridays as it. What’s one more day, if it means you come back happier?”

Perhaps that’s why you called all along. Stu had a way of clearing your mind. He was persuasive as fuck, and it usually got you into trouble, but you couldn’t help but trust him with your life.

“Fuck. Okay I’m gonna do it.”

“THANK GOD! Go get your mans!”

It’s complete and utter mayhem after that point. There’s the running home to shove things into a suitcase. You couldn’t even plan your outfits around what you might do as was usually your go to, because there was always the option that your boyfriend was gonna kick you out onto the streets. You did sneak into his apartment with the key he’d given you for when he wasn’t home to find your gift still sitting sadly at the foot of his bed. It seemed like a nice enough peace offering on your behalf. You were just hopeful that he wouldn’t hate you.

***

The place that Shawn had the both of you stay was maybe the cutest place in the world. It was a tiny cottage nestled away from the chaos of the city. You knew it was a thirty minute drive from the hotel where the rest of the crew was staying, and that that had been purposeful. When you went to check-in you were slightly nervous that it would be under Shawn’s name, and that they would think you were just a crazed fan. But, sure enough Andrew had listed you on the reservation. He really did think of everything.

Inside the cottage, everything was completely untouched. It was all hardwood and soft everything else with blankets and pillows galore. There was a fireplace and a breakfast nook, and a kitchen that you never would have had time to use. It looked like a little oasis. Like maybe you could have forgotten about everything here together. You imagined Shawn planning everything to a tea. He would’ve wanted to take you sightseeing, would’ve insisted on the two of you driving to the cottage separate from everyone else so that it felt like going home. He always thought of things like that. He always wanted you to be happy over everything else, and you guess you had kind of trampled all over that and spat it into his hand.

It only takes two walkthroughs of the cottage for you to figure out that Shawn hadn’t slept here at all. His toiletries were missing from the bathroom. His humidifier wasn’t by the bed. You couldn’t even smell him in the sheets. You plopped down gently on the bed and pulled your phone out to three new missed calls from Shawn. You’d wanted it to be a surprise but you figured now was as good as any. If he was at another hotel, you’d have to talk to him to find out anyway.

“Hello?” You murmured gently into the phone as he picked up on the first ring.

“Y/n? H--Hi! Hi. Uh...wow I’m sorry, I didn’t think you were gonna pick up.”

“Yea. Sorry for ghosting, I just...I don’t know actually. I don’t know.”

He swallowed. “It’s okay.”

“Not really though.”

“Listen, are you still at work right now?”

“No. I’m not.”

Shawn sighed. “Okay well uh... where are you?”

“I’m sitting on a bed in the cottage that you got us. I guess I kinda thought you might be here, but maybe rehearsals are still going on?”

“Excuse me?”

You winced. “I came to London. To like apologize, and to try and fix things.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake.”

You close your eyes ready for him to start laying in on you for being the worst girlfriend ever. And then he starts to laugh. And you’re not sure whether to be offended or scared.

“What the hell is so funny?” You muttered.

“You’re not gonna believe this but I’m in Canada. In front of your apartment door to be more precise.”

“What?!”

“Yea. Andrew gave me the greenlight to fly home and try and fix things. Apparently I’ve been a bit of a dick lately.”

You collapsed back on the bed and brought your arm up to cover your face.

“We are genuinely idiots.”

“Little bit.” He chuckled. “But uh--this is the first time I’ve talked to you in a week and I have to say I really missed the sound of your voice.”

“Yea. I really missed yours too.” You whispered. “Shawn, I’m s--”

“No, stop. Don’t say anything until we’re together. I’m gonna get on the first flight back, and I’ll come to you okay? Let’s just, let’s save it all for in person.”

You smiled a little bit. “Okay. I guess I can do that.”

“I love you more than anything okay? And I’ll see you soon.”

“I love you too.”

You hung up the phone before peering aimlessly around the room. What the hell was a girl to do for her first time in a different country without anyone to show her around?

***

*Third point of view*

Shawn felt way too large in the tiny cottage. His shoulders barely cleared the door and then he tripped into the dark room, his luggage and feet getting twisted together. What a shit show. Two back to back flights with 5 hours of time difference between the two places was more than hell on his body but what was he to do when his girlfriend needed him?

The fireplace was lit and his girlfriend was wrapped up cozily in a blanket, dead asleep in her chair. He thought that she might love a place like this, but he couldn’t have imagined just how right she might look nestled softly into this image before him. She was perfect.

He reached gently for her as a means to not startle her, his heart swelling dramatically when her nose scrunched as she yawned and stretched herself awake.

“Shawn?” She mumbled sleepily. “You’re here?”

He dropped to his knees in front of her, hands moving everywhere to touch her.

“I’m here, baby. I’m right here.”

She runs her fingers through his hair having missed the touch of him. He practically purrs beneath her. They really sucked at being apart. And being mad at each other while they were apart? They were downright awful at that one.

He hugs her waist from where’s she sitting and she bends over to grab at as much at him as she can. They both are emotional and tired and so a few tears at this point is nothing because suddenly their other half is there to wipe them away. It’s the most healing thing in the world to both of them.

“Are you tired? We can talk in the morning.” She murmured rubbing soothingly at his cheeks as the final tears dried away.

He shook his head. “I’ve been thinking about this moment all week. I wanna talk now, if that’s okay with you?”

“Sure.” She breathed.

Shawn tugged at y/n’s hands bringing them both to the dining room table. In some ways it’s good that they have the cottage. It acts as a neutral space for the both of them, the memories of Shawn’s bedroom a couple thousand miles away impossible to taint the moment. They sit at the table facing each other and immediately link fingers. It’s their first fight, but even a first fight comes with a first makeup, a first chance to learn and grow from the hurt.

“I’d like to start, if that’s okay?” He asked waiting for her to give the okay before he continued speaking. “I know that I overreacted. It didn’t feel that way at the time. It felt like...it felt like every fear I’ve ever had about our relationships coming true right in front of me. And those weeks together before that were so indescribably perfect that I just never saw it coming. You never gave me any sort of indication that you were unhappy, or that you needed space. I’m not going to pretend like I would’ve taken it any better. I mean I--I don’t know, honestly, but I think it would have helped a lot.”

“Yea, I . . . I was trying not to hurt you. Which, sounds ridiculous given the fight we ended up having but...I should have told you. I should have told you the second I knew. The thing is, I wanted to come, Shawn; I did. I just, after the grammys, and after the hanging out with your friends, and going on dates every day of the week, and the sex four times a day I got...lonely?”

“Lonely?”

She sighed and tugged frustratingly at her hair as she tried to reorganize her thoughts. It looked like it hurt, so he reached for her hands again to let her steady them on his.

“Hey, it’s okay. I just want to understand. Help me understand.”

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, before letting her lips move.

“It’s like, I was going to bed every night in your arms, but I couldn’t help but remember that for the rest of the year we weren’t gonna be together. And my body couldn’t register anything else. It felt like my soul was clinging to you or something--I’m sorry that sounds so sappy. I mean that my body just wanted to be with you but it knew that you were gonna leave. And the buildup of that was killing me. It hurt. It hurt worse than anything. And I just thought that the only way I was gonna be able to live through it was to get ahead of the pain. It was selfish. I know that but, I didn’t know what else to do.”

“Talk to me. You can always talk to me, and we can work through this shit together. You’re not in this alone. I’m right there with you. And the thought of being without you is absolutely terrifying. It kills me. There’s no one else in the world I can talk to about that, but you. You have to trust me.”

“I do. I do trust you. I promise that’s not what it was about. I didn’t want you wasting any time worrying about me. It--it’s not like it was gonna fix anything. This is where we’re at Shawn.”

“It doesn’t have to be so pessimistic. This is my fault, I should have taken more time to talk to you about it. I should have...I should have done more. I’m sorry.”

“What more could you have possibly done?” She chuckled dryly.

“We can sit down and schedule out the whole year. When you’re gonna visit. When my breaks are, and when I can come home to you. We can pencil in face time dates. It’s not gonna be the same. I know that but...it doesn’t have to be all or nothing, right? We can make it work if we’re both willing. Are you--are you willing?”

She squeezed down on his fingers making him feel more deeply rooted to the ground. His heart was hammering beneath his sternum. And she knew it was his greatest fear, so she did everything in her power to reassure him.

“Yes. I promise I am. I don’t want to be without you, so I’ll take anything I can get.”

He frowned at that knowing that all he wanted was to give her the world. The thought of her settling made his chest feel tight. But, they were just finally getting over their argument, so he lets it settle deep in the back of his mind for now.

“I need to apologize for the rest of what I said that night.” He mumbled.

She shook her head. “It’s fine.”

“It’s so far from fine, it’s not even funny y/n. Don’t ever try and give me an out like that. You were right. I--I disrespected you, and the bare minimum you deserve is an apology.”

She nods softly at the fire in his eyes and holds tighter onto his hand as he attempts to explain.

“It...It’s hard to find security in something when I don’t have control over it. When I’m away from home for so long and I can’t lie with you when you’re having a bad day, or rub your back when you’re cramping, it makes me feel unworthy of calling you mine. And that--that’s on me. That’s my own shit, and that doesn’t mean I get to lash out and say hurtful things to you. You deserve so much more than that. I’m deeply and truly sorry that I hurt you. I love you so much, and I’m never going to do that to you again. Okay? I swear to you.”

“Okay. Okay, I forgive you.” She whispers. “As long as you forgive me. I should never use your anxiety or your mental health against you. That’s totally fucking uncalled for. I’ll never do it again.”

“I forgive you.” He whispered affectionately back. “I love you, so much. Can I kiss you now?”

“Yes. Of course you can.”

He knows that there's not an ounce of anger left in his body when she kisses him, because surely anger couldn’t feel this soft. He loves her and he loves the feel of her arms on his shoulders and the hum of her vocal chords when he sucks her bottom lip into his mouth. But even if the anger has melted, there’s still a bit of a struggle there for him, a struggle to be understood and to be heard. And he didn’t want to leave this moment without it.

“I just...I’m scared okay?” He admits softly as she holds him close. “I know I’ve never said it before but, you terrify me.”

She frowns softly at him fingers twirling aimlessly in his curls.

“In what way?”

“In all of them.” he chuckled before peering seriously into her eyes. “I’ve never been in love like this before. I’ve never felt so out of control of my feelings and my emotions before. I’m afraid that one day someone’s gonna say the wrong thing. We’ll be out in public and they’ll say something to upset us, or an interviewer will ask a question they shouldn’t on air, or someone might get you in trouble at work. And I’m afraid that one day you’re gonna look around and ask yourself what the hell do you get out of us. I just feel like I love you more than anything and I guess it just hurts that I come with all this baggage. I can’t help but think one day it might not be enough to keep you with me.”

Her eyebrows knitted together and she stared at him with those big ole eyes like she could see all of him, like she was the only one who saw all of him.

“How come you’ve never told me that before?”

“I think I might have been afraid to speak into existence. So, I figured if I just did everything in my being to make things perfect, you might forget that I’m a singer with about forty five million people worth of baggage, if my instagram is anything to go off of.”

She giggled and his heart squeezed delicately in his chest.

“I don’t think I could quite manage to forget that.” She murmured. “Shawn, you can’t try and do it all on your own. You can’t try to hide them from me as much as it might seem nice at first. It’s unsustainable, and you already work too hard to add the impossible to your plate. I knew what I was getting myself into. It’s hard. We both know that but...I love you. And I love you enough for it to be hard. Let that be enough.”

“I’m trying.” He whispered softly. “You’re more than enough. You’re more than I could have ever asked for you, you know that?”

“I love you.” She murmured and kissed his forehead.

“I love you too.”

Making up is a very emotionally draining thing, especially when one is mature enough to admit their own wrong doings in the situation. So, after a lot of kissing and hugging, they each make their way to bed. Y/n reached for Shawn immediately pulling his body on top of hers until they were intrinsically intertwined together. Shawn pressed his face against her neck kissing and humming nibbling at the skin. They don’t speak much, just enjoy each other’s company. And for the night, that’s all that matters.

*y/n’s point of view*

Your phone going off is what wakes you up. You were nestled into Shawn’s arms and the thought of leaving that warmth was incredibly offensive. You reached hazardly for the phone only to see that it was Stu. This meant that either someone was dying or he was about to completely waste your time. There was no inbetween with him.

“How dare you not tell me!” Stu screamed.

Completely waste your time it was.

Shawn began to stir and whined softly at the prospect of you not being fully in his arms. He quickly readjusted his weight to be more firmly pressed against you, and then kissed stubbornly at your jaw.

“Babe, come back to bed.”

“Shh.” You murmured as the two men in your life nagged you. “What in the hell are you talking about?”

“I am looking at your boyfriend giving me ‘come suck me off eyes’ and I have never been so offended in my whole gay ass life!

Your mind immediately went to the worse thinking that somehow a nude or something had leaked, and so you sat straight up in bed, Shawn flailing helplessly to the side.

“What the fuck? What is it?!”

“Woops. I can see now that you truly have no idea what I’m talking about in which case this may be a little disconcerting. Your boyfriend is the new face of calvin klein and baby is serving more than face! He is serving ‘bend me over in the middle of the grocery story’ . Which leads me to my next question, how have we never talked about his dick before? Brian and I have questions.”

“What in the absolute hell is going on?” Shawn groaned now fully up and awake.

You rolled your eyes. “It sounds like you may have done an underwear ad and neglected to tell your GIRLFRIEND. And now my very gay best friend is calling me at the crack ass of dawn in toronto to complain about me not telling him.”

“Shit. Did that go out today?”

“Are you two about to start fighting again? We hate it when mom and dad fight.”

“Goodbye Stu! I will talk to you later.”

You tossed your phone off to the side peering over at your groggy boyfriend with messy curls and red patchy cheeks to match. His cuteness almost made you forget about how annoyed you were at the prospect of him forgetting to mention such incredibly important information. Almost.

He smiled dopely. “Sorry?”

“We’re in a fight again.”

“No! No more fighting please.” He whined quickly tackling you down to the sheets.

You squealed and giggled as he placed playful kisses over any part of your skin he could find.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mention it. I was a little nervous about it. I will show you every picture if you want. It’s just me in my underwear, which to be fair you can see that anytime you want.”

You hummed softly wrapping your legs tightly around his hips.

“Anytime?” You murmured. “You saying you’d model for me if I asked?”

“No, that was not at all what I was saying! You don’t want me to model for you. I’d be horrible.”

“I think you would do just fine. I think you’re sexy and beautiful and wonderful, and I can’t imagine a reason why you shouldn’t project that out into the world.”

He brought his head out of the crook of your neck and peered down at you with wide and honest eyes. His thumb caressed gently at your cheek and it kind of made you melt.

“The wild thing is when you say shit like that I really believe it.” He mumbled. “You’re sort of perfect, you know that?”

“Yes. Yes I do. You’re perfect too.” You reminded him softly.

He captured your lips quickly in a kiss that had your whole body thrumming beneath him. His fingers pulled at the hair tie of your bun, quickly getting lost in the strands. You had no idea what time it was, where Shawn needed to be or when, and it suddenly didn’t seem to matter. You needed this moment, needed to feel each other a new after all the bullshit of the last week.

“Haven’t felt you in so long.” Shawn whispered letting his hands map your body so intimately it brought goosebumps to your skin. “Need to touch you. Need to taste you. Please?”

“Y--Yes. God, yes.”

He shoves the blankets away leaving you exposed as he tugs at your t-shirt and bra until your body is laid out for his eyes to feed on. And it’s kind of wild how he can make you feel worshipped and like his own personal prey all at once. Because his eyes are so loving, so giving in the way that he kisses at the bulge of skin where your hip and stomach meet because your tummy isn’t flat. But there’s a heat there too when he takes a nipple into his mouth, teeth sharp and purposeful in the way they make your back arch. It doesn’t matter to you either way. You’d give yourself to him endlessly. And he seems willing to take you up on the offer.

When he tugs at your underwear and sits back on his knees with a cocky ass smirk on his lips, the confidence coming off this man in waves you are struck with a realization. A very important one.

“Wait, I need to suck your dick.”

His eyes widened, persona faltering slightly.

“Huh?”

“You’re so hot right now I really need to have your dick in my mouth.”

“Shit. Well I kind of had my heart set on eating you out.”

He grabbed at the meat of your thigh to drive his point home. This only solidified your dick sucking need though.

“Well I guess we’re gonna have to sixty-nine it, then.”

“Fine, but only if you’re on top. Kinda want your ass on my face anyway.”

It was your turn for your eyes to widen. How dare he just say some wild ass shit like that.

When in London try out new sex positions, or something like that.

Shawn rid of himself of his boxers and quickly tugged at your hips until you were straddling his body from the opposite direction. His fingers melded to the curve of your ass and something happened that truly neither of you could have expected. Shawn, in all of his fascination with your ass all of a sudden let his hand come down with some movement against you. It wasn’t a slap, but it was enough to jolt your body entirely. Who would’ve thought you’d like your ass slapped? Certainly not you.

“Wait, could you...could you do that again?” You murmured peering down at him between your legs.

“Do what?”

You bit your lip. “Smack my ass.”

“Oh... Yea.” He raises his hand and comes down more firmly on your right cheek with that palm of his that’s too big for its own good. “Like that?”

Your back arches involuntarily and you slid down further on the bed, ass poised in the air as a moan passes your lips.

“Fuck, baby.” He whined. “You look so good right now.”

Your thighs squeezed together and he moved to push at your knees with his elbow, spreading you all the more for him.

“Need you on my face.” He whispered. “Give it to me.”

And then he pulled you right where he needed you to go to lick into you fully and deeply. It is by far the most intoxicating thing you’ve ever felt. They don’t tell you how difficult it is to focus on sucking a dick when your boyfriend’s eating your pussy like it’s the last coke in the desert. Porn really could have prepared you better for life in a host of different ways.

Eventually when you get used to your heart pounding you reach between his legs to guide his hard on between your lips. It’s takes a second to get used to angle, but once you find your rhythm it’s kind of magical. His thighs tense and his hips buck up as you let the flat of your tongue coat him perfectly. Your fingers wrap delicately around the shaft as your mouth focuses exclusively on the head, lips tight and wet with every pull.

“Fuck!” Shawn whined collapsing back against the sheets. “You have no idea how good that feels.”

His hand comes down on you again, but you can tell he’s in a sex fueled haze, because it’s much sharper than normal Shawn would’ve ever allowed himself to give. It drives you absolutely wild. You moan and then he moans and you’re both just a mess of sweaty limbs and near orgasms. He slips two fingers into you and something about the angle has him pressing right where you could ever possibly need him. Your hips begin to pulse and rotate and you have to pull off of his dick because the sounds coming out of your mouth are unruly.

“Fuck! Oh my god!” You gasped. “Deeper. Deeper, please.”

He slaps your ass again and shifts his fingers against a spot inside of you that makes your eyes roll back in your head as your orgasm rips through your body. There’s a squelching sound as Shawn’s fingers plunge you into at the same time that you begin to squirt all over his chest. It’s so overwhelming that your vision cuts out and you collapse is a wet, sticky heap.

“Jesus Christ. Look at you.” He mumbled thumb still flicking at your overstimulated clit.

You wiggle out of his grasp, tired, and in desperate need to get your boyfriend off. Because equality.

You straddled his hips one hand directing his hard on inside of you while the other worked to get your hair out of your face.

“You’re amazing.” He huffed into the air as you rode him fast and dirty into the mattress. “So fucking amazing.”

His hands on your hips made you feel like you were on fire. It was so good. And maybe it was because of the fight, maybe it was just not seeing each other for so long, but whatever it was you were bringing each other somewhere completely new. A high that had yet to been reached for the two of you. It was magic. It was hot and sensual. It was...about to be interrupted.

You were leaning over his body hips slapping roughly against his when a knock rang out on the door. Shawn reached impulsively for your hips to keep you moving on top of him.

“Don’t stop. They’ll go away.”

They did not go away. They simply knocked again.

“Goddammit.” He huffed looking over towards the door. “We don’t need any towels! Thank you!”

His voice was raw and it was clearly up a higher octave than he usually spoke, so you couldn’t help but giggle as your hips moved.

“It’s Brian and Connor jackass! Andrew sent us to get you. You’re not answering your phone!”

“You have got to be kidding me.” You sighed.

“Go away! I’ll be there in an hour!”

“...Are you two banging in there?!”

“Brian I am going to kill you! Get out of here!”

“Shit, bro I think they’re actually banging.”

“Can we try and stay focused here?” You whined leaning your hand back on his thigh and giving a gentle rock of your hips.

He leaned up on his arm, the other coming to wrap gingerly around your waist.

“What you just wanna keep going?”

“I’ve had my orgasm already here, I’m simply wanting to reciprocate. It’s up to you.”

His eyes raked over your body once more before looking over hesitantly at the door. Then, before you could even realize what was happening, he was bucking upwards with his hips to get you to lie back on the bed. He immediately fell back between your thighs and settled on a rhythm that must be doing wonderful things for him if the sounds from his lips was anything to go off of.

“You feel so fucking good.” He grunted grinding against you in tight circles. “God I love you so much.”

“Show me.” You hummed teeth grazing his ear. “Show me how much.”

There’s a slight squeak in the bed as it rattles on its posts, and you can’t help but tighten your thighs around his hips in a desperate attempt to stave off this feeling he seems to be able to give you in abundance. His hands on your neck as his lips dominated your mouth. Those fucking hips that could create magic with every snap against the back of your thighs. How could he always make it feel so good? You thought you might never understand it.

“I’m gonna cum.” He whined biting down hard on your lips. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

Your fingers turned to fists in his hair and you moved roughly at your hips to meet every one of his thrusts.

“Cum for me.” You whispered.

He thrust once, twice, three times, and then a fourth final lunge that had your bodies locking together in the most intimate way imaginable. When he filled you infinitely, his breath painting your sweaty neck, you fell in love all over again. He was everything in that moment. Everything.

Taglist: @kitykatnumber @lou-and-me​ @ourlittleshawnie @mutuallynotmutual @wanderingmendes @peacedolantwins2 @chels-nyc @@illloveyouforever1​ @justbeingoceana @grittyisathot @hayyitsfayy​ @claredolphinbear24​  @september-lace @grittyathot @literallyshawn @mchutchmendes @liliane106 @trappedinfairytales

[doom-dreaming]

Big Sigh: aka my thoughts on BL3

Okay. It's 4 in the morning and I have managed to fuck my sleep schedule completely sideways and I've been reading people's complaints and criticisms for about an hour now so here's what I have to say about Borderlands 3. This is gonna get long, buckle up.

Borderlands 3 has potential that was never fully realized and it seems half-finished and underdeveloped.

Now, you might want to take this with a grain of salt because I haven't actually played it for myself yet, but I've been watching streams of whatever I can get my grabby little hands on and here are my impressions.

I agree with the majority of you who say it was a disappointment. I feel like we were overly hyped. Maybe it was just active imaginations and excitement and love for the series, but when my friends and I can come up with at least three different storylines for the twins alone that are (in our opinions) better than what actually happened?? Something went wrong, narratively.

You all know I could talk for hours about all the different visual aspects of just Troy and how we got answers for virtually none of them - but I won't fixate entirely on him this time around.

In general, there's some kind of disconnect between what we were expecting and what we got. Characters seem one-dimensional or just "off" in some way, and granted, it has been seven canonical years since BL2 (so about five since the events of Tales, if I remember my timeline correctly) and people do change. Seven years is longer than you think, especially in an environment where literally anything could happen.

But in order for that change to be believable, it needs to be backed up by canon. I'm not saying we should have gotten a bunch of side quests that detail the years between then and now for every single character, but even just a few lines here or there as we go about our missions would have been better than leaving a gaping hole. Too much of a hole is not "let the audience fill in the blanks," it's just bad writing.

Rhys and Vaughn? As far as I know, they barely acknowledge each other. I know a lot of people are displeased with Vaughn's development and while I like the feral Vaughn, it's just a single aspect of his character. In Tales, we got to see him transform from a nerdy, gun-shy dude into someone who embraced the danger of Pandora and learned how to roll with the punches. I'm glad to see how confident he's become in BL3, but again, I feel like they distilled his character down into just one basic part.

I was actually pleased with Rhys, to be honest. I think his voice acting captured the essence of Troy Baker's, and I think he retained more character fidelity than some of the others.

Fiona, Sasha? We don't necessarily need to see them (though I would have loved that), but even overhearing a conversation from some NPCs regarding "those grifters Rhys used to run with?" "Oh yeah, I hear they're Vault hunting now" would have been fine. Just something to acknowledge that they're out in the world doing something.

I've heard big complaints about Aurelia and while I haven't played TPS and don't have too much of a grasp on her character, I can see the frustration. From what I've gathered, she doesn't seem the type to go full bloodthirsty, full money-hungry like she was made out to be. Again, seven years can change a person, but if you're going to make a change that seems out-of-character without context, then give us that context. Once more, it seems like a distillation of character to further a plot that, frankly, would have been better and more interesting if they hadn't done it.

I'm going to briefly touch on the whole Aurelia/Troy thing again (weird jealousy aside) because I've found out why it rubs me the wrong way. The twins don't operate like that. From all other negotiations we see, it's either cunning diplomacy or brute force. Aurelia didn't need to fuck Troy to get him to torture Monty Jakobs for the Vault Key. He would've done it anyway. This whole thing seemed like an attempt at an obligatory sex joke that, again, needed context to make us believe it could reasonably happen. But instead we got nothing, just a weird scene that seemed out of place for both characters involved. The only thing it contributed was foreshadowing that "the sister always wins."

And speaking of the twins, here's the meat of the problem: wasted potential.

Let's look at what we've got. Sirens. Twin sirens, one male. Already a game-changer. These guys are a living, breathing anomaly in the rules of this universe. Add in the beautiful religious aesthetic and the mystical Great Vault and we've got ourselves some amazing options.

But what did we get? We got a lackluster sibling relationship (although it did have some gems, I'll admit). We got a half-hearted betrayal that ended up amounting to nothing. And in the end? We got our ultimate villain on a quest for more power. Y a w n.

Why doesn't Tyreen listen to her father as he pleads with her? Why does she hate him so much? Where's our context?! It seems like a lack of communication more than anything. Typhon never once refers to Tyreen as a monster, which is how they saw it growing up. In fact, she seems to be the favorite. He calls her "starlight." He begs her to listen, that the Great Vault won't give her the power she wants. He's remorseful of how he raised them, resigned to what they've become, but up until the end he's trying to convince her to stop until it reaches the point where he knows he can't anymore.

What got the twins from point A to point B? I get it, shitty parental behavior leaves lasting trauma, especially when there's a layer of bad communication on top of it. But show us this, somehow. Please Gearbox, give us context. The vulnerable moments we got from the twins and Typhon left me wanting so much more of that, in particular. The talk about their childhood, the stargazing, Troy's admission about their mother, all of it was just a hint at something deeper that I feel like we never got to fully explore.

I feel that way about the whole game. Everything was the tip of an iceberg and we never got to see the rest underneath.

Imagine if Ty wanted to find the Great Vault because it would allow Troy to live a healthy, self-sufficient life. What a plot, huh? Supportive villain siblings? How dare I. What if they'd realized their mistake before it was too late. What if something woke up anyway? Something more ancient and more dangerous than ever. Let the Eridians have their time to shine. They've been a background force this whole series; pull the biggest twist and tell us that not all of their civilization was lost after all. For God's sakes, tell us more about sirens. We learned jack about shit for all their promises of "sirens will play a big part." Do the twins count as one? How do the powers pick the person?

This is getting incredibly long, so here are my closing thoughts. It doesn't feel finished. It feels like they released a half-finished ending to a series. The final events wrap up cleanly, hardly giving a new opening for a sequel, and yet there are still holes and loose ends galore in the story. I know that we still have DLC to get through, but given all of this, I'm trying not to get my hopes up.

Give us more story, deeper story, deeper characters, and most importantly, context.

Anyway. You know where to find me if you want rewrites and fix-its.

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Mutilated Mannequin (Part 18)

Breakfast is strangely quiet and Azula can’t place why until Ozai clears his throat. “I called Dr. Guhira. He said that he can do some revision surgery.”

Azula laughs, a few tears threatening to spill over. “Are you serious?” She pauses. “You want me to get more surgery?”

He clears his throat again. “I thought that you might…”

“No. No more. My face is already damaged enough.” Her voice hitches.

Ozai opens his mouth but Ursa’s voice fills the quiet. “What’s going on here?”

Her farther cringes.

“He’s being insensitive again, isn’t he?”

He casts her a pleading stare but she can only work to swallow down her tears.

Her expression only seems to kindle her mother’s temper further. “You and Zuko won’t have to worry about that soon.” She slaps a stack of court documents onto the table.

Something about it makes Azula’s stomach lurch.

“Azula, I’m trying to…I’m trying to fix this.”

“Then stop telling me to get surgery.”

“It’s different than…”

“I have to get to class.” She mutters as she picks up her bag and heads for the door. She doesn’t know what she looks less forward to, a run in with Jet during gym class or the tense conversation that she is about to have with Chan.

She makes her way to his locker and loiters there, running thorough her script until she sees him sauntering up. He runs his finger though his hairline. “You want to start or should I?”

Azula shrugs.

“How did I make you feel like you needed the surgery?”

“It wasn’t just you. It was actually mostly my father.” Azula admits before recounting the comment that inspired her to get work done. He rubs his face in the way that he always does when he is particularly stressed.

“I guess that, that was pretty shallow, huh?”

“Absolutely.”

“I should have told you…” he trails off, “that you didn’t need the surgeries.”

She folds her arms and replies with a soft, “yeah.” It is all she can manage for the time. What’s done is done. She considers briefly, her father’s offer. But, no, she won’t let him goad her into another operation. Not for cosmetic’s sake anyhow.

“Homecoming probably didn’t help either.”

“No.” She agreed. Not that it was of any more use that she didn’t mention what had been bothering her so much.

“So, what now?”

Azula shrugs. “Nothing, I guess. I just wanted to let you know why homecoming ended the way it did.”

Chan nods. “Kind of glad that you did.” He scratches the back of his head. “Are things going to be less awkward now?”

“I hope so or this conversation was pointless.”

He lets out a loud curse when the bell rings.

“Don’t worry about it.” Azula dismisses. “I’ll just tell Kyoshi that I was having trouble carrying all of this.” She opens her locker and pulls out more textbooks than necessary. She hands them to Chan and picks up her bag. “"And that you were giving me a hand.”

 “Ah, so you’ve discovered the wonders of being ‘helpless.’” Tops grins. “It comes in handy sometimes.”

 “Is that why you’re wandering the halls?” Azula asks.

 Her grin widens. “ Hell yes!”

 .oOo.

Kyoshi lets her join them for frisbee. “How intense can throwing around a flimsy disk get?” She clearly underestimated the sheer chaos three of the school jocks could stir.

The absurd amount of combined testosterone wafting off of Sokka, Chan, and Jet is enough to build a future resume for a frat house.

She is thankful for it; it keeps Jet from pestering her. She lingers with Katara and Yue at what she hopes is a safe distance from the sport related pissing contest. Though she has landed herself in the center of an age old rivalry.”

“Don’t let her get the frisbee!” Yue declares as Azula sends it sailing to Katara. Yue groans as the other girl’s hands clamp down on it. The girl looks smug. She tosses the frisbee back to Azula who passes it to Yue and then it is back in her hands again. She rolls her eye, realizing and accepting that they were never going to pass it to each other. 

“Mind if I join you guys?” Ruon asks. 

Azula passes the frisbee to him and he flicks it to the nearest person, Yue. “Sorry about your face.” He comments.

“It is what it is.” 

“Yeah. Chan was telling me a bit about it.” 

She finds herself pleasantly to have such a considerable amount of support. Frankly she had been almost certain that Yue would cut her out. Granted, the girl is tactlessly truthful but she has come to know that, that’s just the girl’s personality. She supposes that she appreciates the honesty. 

“Why aren’t you with Chan?” 

“I’ve taken eight frisbees to the face and we’ve been playing for five minutes.” Ruon shrugs. “I’m not into extreme frisbee.” 

The four pass the frisbee between one another. Azula watches it sail into Katara’s hands and Katara passes it to Ruon.

“Hey! You skipped me.” Yue complains as Ruon tosses it to her. 

Azula outstretches her good arm to catch it. Before she can, a different frisbee collides with the back of her head. 

“Careful, Longshot.” Jet leers. “We can’t mess up the back of her head too.”

Azula picks up the frisbee and glowers at Jet. Her gaze flickers between he and Longshot before she ultimately decides to toss it at Jet. She lands her hit square on his nose. Longshot chuckles, unaware that she still has one frisbee at her disposal. This one stikes his ear. She offers them the dullest expression she can muster, one that might even impress Mai. 

“Jesus.” Ruon remarks with a half laugh. “I didn’t realize you had such good aim.”

Azula shrugs. “I have many talents.”

“I think that Longshot is gonna whine to Kyoshi.” Yue comments. 

“Let him.” Azula replies. “Kyoshi likes me.” Even if she does get a lecture, the satisfaction of striking the both of them will outweigh it. Getting the last hit takes the edge off of the sting they left her with. 

But still, some tingles of doubt remain.

They carry her to math class and into lunch.

She wishes that her mind would stop lingering on the petty comments. They seem so small in comparison to the kindness everyone else seems to afford her.

She arranges her food, and simply observes the conversations around her. 

“Are you still taking Zuko to the comet festival?” TyLee asks. 

Yue grimances. “Oh God no.” 

“Aw, why not? He’s kind of cute.” 

“Gross.” Azula mutters. 

“The first half of homecoming was nice but then he started talking about Mai and it got awkward.” She pauses. “You still going with Kei Lo.”

“He’s nice and everything but he doesn’t like that I have to bring Tom-Tom along with us on our dates sometimes.”  Mai shrugs. 

“Soooo…is it too soon for me to asking him to the festival?” 

“Have at him.” 

Azula’s heart sinks again. She is still alone. She pretends to be interested in her meal, wishing that they would all just stop talking about dates and dances. She thinks of bringing up their sports teams, heaven knows that TyLee can talk about gymnastics for ages and Yue did love to boast about her award for her 500 meter freestyle. She doesn’t speak up fast enough.

“Are you going to ask anyone to the comet festival?” Yue asks. 

And again she takes too long to answer. 

“She can ask all the people she wants, nobody is going to say yes to a face like that.” Jet comments. “She couldn’t get a date before, she sure as hell can’t get one now.” 

“That’s bold coming from someone who lost his date.” Chan comments. 

“I’m taking Smellerbee.” He shrugs.

“Poor girl.” Yue comments, “I’d try to help her if I liked her, but she has one of those coconut haircuts and I don’t condone that kind of sin against hair.” 

“It least she isn’t made of plastic. Broken plastic.” 

Broken plastic…

Azula absently brings her fingers to her cheek. She hasn’t seen it yet, but she can feel the raised ridges of scar tissue. 

She hears Toph enter the conversation but the words never settle. The face Jet makes brings her some satisfaction, but it is fleeting as his words echo in her head. Moreso when she catches tunes in to hear him say, “you can’t even fucking see, of course you think that she’s pretty.” 

“Jet, my asshole looks prettier than you.” Toph grumbles. 

“How about this? How about you leave beauty related opinions to the people who they are meant for; people who can see. Blind people don’t get to call things beautiful.” 

Toph folds her arms over her chest and blows at her bangs. “Whatever I’d rather be blind then look at whatever you have going on.” 

She should say something. Anything at all instead of hiding behind the rest of them. But she had thrown away most of her fight with the frisbees and the rest of it has been sapped away by Jet’s commentary.

She thinks of Ozai’s offer. Dr. Guhira has always been good to her, at the very least he made her feel comfortable and like she had a choice. She can imagine that he’d be able to perform a healthy corrective surgery. 

“Good luck with the festival.” Jet’s voice cuts through her thoughts. “I bet that even that faggot Aang get more dick than you.” He offers her a final sneer before going to receive his high fives and words of praise. 

Katara starts to stand and Suki holds her down. “He can’t talk about people like that, Suki.” Her grip tightens around her empty water bottle. “Did you hear what he called Aang? Aang isn’t even  here!” 

A mist of outrage settles over the table. And through the fog, they don’t see her get up and leave. She leans herself against the wall just outside of the cafeteria. She could give her father a call…

The double doors open and Katara emerges. 

“You can get written up for ditching, you know?”

“I guess I’ll take my first write up then.” She replies. “Is this the first time…?” She looks at Azula before clarifying, “that people have talked to you like this?”

Azula nods. “I have to admit, I admire their sheer audacity.” 

Katara laughs. “I always thought that you’d have some crazy comebacks.” 

“Disappointed?” 

Frankly she thought that she would too. She seems to have them at the ready on TyLee’s behalf and on Mai’s...and Zuzu’s if he’s lucky and she’s feeling generous. But when it comes to herself she seems to lose her bite. 

“Not really.” Katara says. “I’m sure I’ll hear them soon enough.” 

“Maybe.” 

Katara pulls her into a gentle hug. Usually that is reserved for only TyLee to do, but today she accepts the comforting gesture.

.oOo. 

She is, once again, the first person to spread her picnic blanket on the ground. This time she is bundled up in a coat and several layers of sweaters that are just thin enough to accommodate her sling. 

“Hot chocolate?” Pathik offers. 

Azula holds her hand out. Stargazing and hot chocolate, she supposes that she can really use that today. She takes a sip and looks at the sky until bickering from below draws her attention away. 

Katara gives a little wave. 

“I can’t believe that you nerds talked me into coming here again.” 

“You say that every week, Yue. I think that you enjoy astronomy.” Azula speculates. 

“I enjoy the idea of free hot chocolate.” She wraps her arms around herself. “It’s too cold out for this.” She gestures to the telescopes. 

“Yes, but it’s the only time that you can see Canis Major.” Katara points out.

“And Venus is best seen this month.” Azula adds. 

“Who cares about Venus. I still haven’t gotten to see the moon.” She shiverers and burrows further into her coat. “Look at this.” She waves her arms around at the snow. “Too cold.”

“Maybe if you’d zip your coat, you wouldn’t be as cold.” Katara suggests. 

Azula hears a clatter and a muffled, “oh dear.” Katara wanders over and helps their professor pick up his telescope. When the remaining few students make themselves comfortable Pathik addresses them. “Today, I would like to start by telling a story to get us in the winter spirit…”

She never imagined that astronomy club with come with fairy tale read alouds. But then, Pathik has never been anything but whimsical. She isn’t opposed to his story choice either. 

“Hey, can I share your blanket?” Katara asks. 

Azula nods and tosses the blanket over her shoulder. 

“What about me?” Yue asks. 

“First come, first served.” Azula shrugs. 

She and Katara were the last remaining people after the telescopes have been packed away. Katara looks at her phone and bites her lip, “I forgot that Sokka had an away game tonight.”

“I’m sure that my limo has some extra space.” Azula replies. 

Her face slackens in relief. “For a second I thought that I’d be walking home. I mean, it isn’t that far but my nose is getting numb.” 

“Yes, mine too. Just like old times.”

Katara laughs, “I never thought that I’d have to help someone change nose pads.” 

“I suppose that I didn’t think I’d ever have to ask someone to help me with that.” The conversation fades out. In its place is the soft sound of sleet hitting the parking lot.

“He’s wrong you know.”

“Hmm?” Azula knits her brows. “About you not going to get a date to the comet festival.” 

“Can we avoid this topic?”

“I guess we can, if you really don’t want to go with me.” 

Azula stares at her for the longest time. “You...you want to take me?”

Katara’s hand squeezes hers and she nods. “I’d really like to give it a try. Jet was a horrible date…”

“So the bar is pretty low.” 

“So I need something extra special to make up for it. I figured that you like a challenge.” 

Azula smiles. “I do like a challenge, yes.” 

“So you’ll go with me?”

Azula nods. “I’ll go.” 

Katara leans forward, when Azula misses her cue, the girl rolls her eyes and pecks her nose instead. Katara brushes Azula’s bangs aside and leans in for a second try. Azula hesitates before tilting her head. The girl’s lips are meer inches from her own when two rapid horn bleats cause them both to jolt. 

“That doesn’t look like a limo.” Katara mumbles, a blush creeping onto her cheeks.

“We’re having a family dinner.” Zuko calls from the car window. 

“We’ll have to drop Katara off first.” 

“She can come with us.” Ursa smiles. “There’s an open seat in the back.” 

“Thank you Ms. Kasai.” Katara climbs into the back. 

“You won’t be thanking us after dinner.” Azula whispers. “Family dinners are always…”

“Dramatic or weird.” Zuko fills in. 

“Are you going to tell me about your girlfriend?” Ozai asks, tapping the steering wheel. 

“Yup.” Zuko muses. “It’s gonna be weird this time.”

[confessionsfromachristian]

As a millennial myself, I’m not particularly surprised by this.

Organized religion increasingly feels hollow and insincere in a world where religious leaders play politics both within and without the church, literally everything important turns into another power struggle, and no one seems interested in discussing the important questions.

Pretty much every public religious figure treats their religious text of choice as if they, and they alone, definitely have it all figured out. And if their interpretation (which is definitely, 100% correct, mind you) happens to benefit their interests at the expense of other people, then that’s fine, because it’s religion and therefore it’s good. Televangelists are what most people see of organized religion, and frankly most televangelists seem to be interested first and foremost in what you and God can do for them.

Which isn’t what religion is supposed to be, or what it has to be, but it’s often what it looks like in the here and now.

On a personal level, organized religion is designed astonishingly well to break faithful hearts. If I didn’t have someone to pull me back into church (someone whom I care about deeply, and want to support), I probably wouldn’t ever attend church, between the heartache religion has inflicted on me on a personal level and the disgust I get watching it on an organizational level.

(Story under the cut, because it’s rambling and still fueled by a lot of pain. TW: parent death)

I grew up Catholic, and I left the Catholic church in college because, increasingly, Catholic doctrine started having more holes than substance (at least, to me and my reading of the Bible) and none of the priests I reached out to were willing to give me anything more substantial than “the Bible says so,” even when I couldn’t find where the Bible actually said anything about the matter at hand.

Add on the longstanding problems in the Catholic church (where priests’ jobs have been repeatedly placed ahead of innocent children’s physical and psychological wellbeing, and the few authority figures who try to take local action keep getting told to wait for a comprehensive plan), and, well… I realized that I was getting more stress than fulfillment, and I felt like an outsider every time I went to Mass, so I stopped going.

So I turned to Methodism, because I was raised to be a Good Christian Girl™ and not going to church just wasn’t really an option. I ended up really involved in the Methodist Church in the mid-2010’s, and particularly in the children’s program at my own small church. And that was great for a while.

My conversion to Protestantism was always a sticking point between me and my mother, and I will always regret that a difference of religion meant that many of the times I saw her in the last months of her life were filled with bitter, frustrated arguments.

The day I finished the long process of writing and defending my undergraduate thesis, I drove 3 hours to my hometown with my roommate (a friend from my pre-college years), and didn’t go home because I was too proud of my pro-same-sex-marriage thesis (this was pre-Obergefell) and too tired to put up with another argument about my Protestantism, my liberal views, and my different interpretation of the Bible from the priest at my former church. I called her, told her I was done, that I’d done well, and that I’d see her the next evening, but I was going to crash with my roommate at her parents’ house.

My mother died the next afternoon, before I could call her again. I missed my last chance to see her because I feared another fight about religion. I would give anything to take that decision back.

My father was not thrilled at my conversion, but he’s come around since my mom passed away; he supports me finding a place where I feel spiritually filled, I think more or less because he’s lonely and he’s afraid to lose me (but I won’t ever let a difference of religion come between us). He volunteers at the church I went to as a child, and, up until the events that led to me leaving my small church, he always supported our kids’ programs to.

Although my church always had problems that left me frustrated, I got a lot of fulfillment out of teaching the kids in the church. But then, in 2016, I ended up as an Annual Conference delegate, and I think that’s where things started to spiral, happy as I was to go at the time.

AC was great, and I’m a law-brained sorta person, so all that legislation was wonderful. But I also had the opportunity to see the gritty reality of a world where religion is designed to make money, not just to fill spirits. Churches that don’t make money - even if they don’t lose any - can be closed, regardless of the negative effects, if someone in power thinks that a different kind of church can be more profitable. And if people at AC express dismay over the results? They’re probably good Christians, or they wouldn’t be at AC. Call for a prayer so they’ll shut up and you can move on.

But, you know, power corrupts. So I went back to my small church to try and fix everything I could on a local level, because I while I couldn’t fix the United Methodist Church, I could fix MY church. And, as an AC delegate, I had a spot on the Church Council to help with that goal. But, as it turns out, sometimes even people on a local level really just want the church to make more money. My dream (shared with a couple other church members, admittedly, but by no means all) was to use our children’s program to reach unchurched and underserved kids and bring them to Jesus. That, unfortunately, is not a financially profitable dream. Kids cost money, and unchurched kids are usually not rich ones. And their families often don’t come for more than the children’s events - and they only come for the children’s events because it’s free babysitting.

So every step was like clawing my way out of quicksand. Getting volunteers was like pulling teeth. Getting supplies was usually a matter of “do what you can with the church budget, and donate the rest.” Without volunteers, setup became “work until you’re about to pass out, go home, sleep two hours, then come back and finish before the kids get here.” Meanwhile, programs meant to draw in rich retirees from our community (so that they could give donations while they were in the building, of course) had more volunteers than they needed, and no one questioned whether practically every single man in the church was going to stay after on Sunday to help set up.

And the pastor at the time really was great. But they were a peacekeeper; any problems that arose always had two sides, and always ended in whatever decision kept the status quo because the status quo was safe, and easy.

But then the next AC came, and my pastor retired. The pastor that replaced them had wanted to retire, but had been encouraged by the district superintendent to take on our church instead, as a “part-time full-time assignment.” And I hoped and prayed that they’d bring with them change, but I should’ve been more careful with what I wished for.

They cannot tell the truth to save their life. They would approach me about an issue that was “very important” to them. We’d talk, and come up with a solution. At Church Council, without fail, the pastor would come in and insist that, in fact, we had decided on some entirely different plan. The pastor rarely showed up at children’s ministry events, so getting volunteers got even harder (why care about VBS if the pastor doesn’t?). Slowly, but surely, the church eroded every program I had helped put in place, watering it down or trying to monetize it. So, the Book of Discipline actually mandates a YA representative have a spot on the Church Council. For a while, I and one other millennial (also an AC delegate) fulfilled that role. But the pastor felt it was more important to send the church treasurer, so he could learn to make more money for the church. And that was fine; I and the other millennial approached the pastor at the end of the year about having a YA rep on the council either way (I’d always gone as an at-large delegate; our church was small enough that we only needed 1 lay delegate), and he more or less told us that the Book of Discipline didn’t apply when it was inconvenient for the church.

That’s where I realized that the bridge I was standing on would, inevitably, crumble. But I told myself it was worth trying to fix what was wrong. So I tried. And for a short time, I thought my biggest problem was going to be ensuring that the 2019 General Conference decision didn’t change the way my church embraced its LGBT members.

This new year had brought someone I’d always viewed as a friend into a position of authority in the church. I was excited for her, and I really hoped and prayed that she could do good for the church, and that we could work together to build an inclusive church with a healthy outreach to the underserved and unchurched, things I had always thought she agreed with me about (because she’d told me to my face that she did).

But no sooner did she take the reins than she implemented the volunteer dress code. Which was a far worse thing than it sounds.

We live in Texas. The dress code? No tank tops, no shorts. Ever. Apparently, some anonymous complainer had, at some point, seen an underwear slip or a bra strap. And rather than talk to the volunteers, they wrote a policy. Side note, apparently skirts of any length were fine for women.

Goodbye VBS. I can’t in good conscience ask anyone to monitor children outside, in June, in Texas, in full-length jeans and a t-shirt.

Also, no going barefoot in the sanctuary, ever, for any reason. I was one of two people who regularly shed my shoes during kids’ events where we used the sanctuary. But rather than talk to me about it, it was better to make a policy about it that literally everyone I spoke to knew was a rebuke.

Then, in one of the brand-new children’s oversight committee meetings, they decided to dismantle the children’s program bit by bit. Children’s church? Cancelled. Apparently, we were running a renegade program without pastoral approval anyway.

VBS? “If we can’t charge for it, let’s just cancel it. Add on a few lies about how poorly it was run (by me, in part) to make it seem like a logistical problem.” The children’s director objects to a sexist-worded dress code and refuses to impose it on those under her? “Fire her, no need to look at whether there’s a problem. Make the volunteers (including me) sign the policy before you’ll let them teach the kids on Sunday. Remind them explicitly that this is a prerequisite to working with the kids, so that they don’t feel they have any choice if they want to say goodbye, because they already know that it’s over and they don’t want to blindside the kids.”

I posted about it on Facebook in my frustration and pain at watching them tear apart everything I’ve tried to do for kids that I love like they were my family. I received a termination letter in my e-mail the next day. They proceeded to send a newsletter to the entire church (except me and my family) informing the church that I had been removed as a volunteer for lying on Facebook. No goodbye for the kids. No warning. They couldn’t handle public dissent.

I hadn’t told a single lie. I dared the person who drafted the newsletter to tell me where I lied. No answer.

Of course I left. And it still hurts to walk into a church building. It still hurts to see the kids on my FB feed. I’m still friends with a few of the moms, because I still love their kids. And it will keep hurting me, because I trusted my church. And even though I still go to church now and then, I know damn well not to trust anyone inside.