#I'm apparently incapable of writing from any other pov

[dss1101]

"Duke was taking to it about as well as any of them ever took to getting benched, which was to say, terribly."

This family is a mess of self-sacrificing idiots. Take a rest, you'll be okay I promise. There are about a billion other vigilantes to protect Gotham while you're gone

[thetruearchmagos]

So-

@theprissythumbelina do you remember that intelligence analyst 'category' of character I mentioned a long while back?

Well, for some reason it came to mind the other day, and I've been thinking more about the sorts of characters I'd hope to use as POVs in my WIPs, and I've made a small change in a certain character from Swift Seas And Whirlwinds which I thought might really add to the perspective they offer.

The character in question is Lance Corporal Piki Ngata, UC Marine Corps, and since I've got a character intro for him in the works I'll save the details for later. Basically, though he's semi active pre-War (AKA the 'first' book) where he offers us a look into life on the soon to be invaded island of Paeroa, Ngata really comes into his own once war breaks, where he'll appear in the fight to defend his homeland and birthplace from the invaders. Theoretically not too convoluted, though I have some spanners in mind to be thrown into things...

But that's not the point! Of this post, that is.

You see, Ngata actually began life as the product of one of those "Wouldn't it be cool if..." sorts of daydreams that spawn half the shit I write. The Scene that he firsts appeared in has him as one of the crew of a 'coastal missile battery', waiting for a chance to strike at the invasion fleet offshore, before a mass air raid wipes out most of the batteries and their 'radar' sites.

Now, that's all well and good for a one-off brainflash, but as I've been fleshing out his relationships with his fellow locals, his colleagues, and his superiors, I realised that the role I've given him was frankly a bit of a limiting one. For Plot Reasons Too Long To Explain Here, the coastal missiles don't really play much of a role past this very early scene, and even there they don't really have much of an impact on events since they're just getting shot at without any chance of fighting back. I reasoned that if I'm going to give Ngata the honour of being a proper Perspective character in SSAW then I'd better make it an interesting one with serious potential for development.

So, I put him in Air Defence!

... which I can assure you is a lot more of a change than that little quip might suggest.

You see, while I've been thinking about all this, I've also spared a few side thoughts for how the air war for Paeroa goes, which made me quickly realise that putting Ngata here leaves him straight up relevant for a lot longer. The idea of UC coastal missile batteries was always an iffy one for me for Worldbuilding reasons (because I am incapable of considering any others apparently), but air defence is very much something I felt I could do more with.

The idea for this change also brings up some opportunities for what I considered 'interesting emotional developments', AKA Shit He'll Seek Therapy Over. As part of the fragile and utterly outmatched air defence grid protecting Paeroa, Ngata will at least get to shoot back at his attackers, but every lost battery or shot down friendly fighter is a gruesome loss he knows they can't afford to take, while Nouvoloian warbirds come in day and night and seem to crash upon his comrades no matter how badly he wounds their numbers.

At the same time, his duties leave him physically separated from the worst of the fighting on the ground, where two companies of marines fight for every hill and patch of jungle against a full Nouvoloian brigade. Casualties streaming through to the rear hammer in how comparatively privileged his circumstances are to the boots, and he knows every aircraft or missile that slips through his watch means another body on a stretcher or in a bag. For this marine, it makes for a strange kind of guilt.

And... that's about that. Considering how much weight I put on a fair number of characters to tell their stories through their own unique perspectives on events greater than themselves, you'd think I'd be more thoughtful about how I handed out POV Character status. Then again, I think turning a daydream into a chance to tell a distinct and unique narrative isn't a bad way to go about writing. Now that I've mentally straightened out my thoughts on Ngata, I'll see if I can rationalise and ground the Perspectives of some other folks...

After I'm done with his Intro!

Also, for the character lore, Tagging @athenswrites @caxycreations @hessdalen-globe

[aquafaith]

My lengthy, angry ACOSF rant review.

Spoilers, TW for mental, emotional, physical, and sexual abuse.

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I loved ACOTAR. I still love ACOTAR. I always will love ACOTAR. But every book afterwards made me give up more and more. ACOMAF romanticized an abusive relationship and assassinated characters for the author's convenience. ACOWAR was a bunch of boring and inconsequential death scares. ACOFAS was all-round dreadful. And each book kept shitting on and pushing away Lucien for no reason.

I'd like to preface this by saying I hated Nesta too. I hated the way she treated Feyre in ACOTAR especially, and I wasn't even too excited for this book because I wasn't that keen on Nesta as a character.

Nesta's POV and her backstory changed my perspective. It does not excuse her actions. All Nesta stans can hold these characters accountable for what they do - trauma is a reason, not an excuse. I, and many others, sided with Nesta because of the way she's treated by everyone else in this book. Also, if you're going to hate Nesta for not teaching Feyre how to read and letting her hunt at fourteen, (which I did, and are very valid things to hate), AT LEAST hold Elain accountable too.

This book. This fucking book.

Shall we start with the intervention? Feyre on her little power trip thinks that her boyfriend that hates Nesta and Nesta hates back, Nesta's ex-best friend, and her possible mate who she never talks to should be at this stupid fucking intervention??? Excuse me???

Remember in ACOMAF when Feyre wouldn't shut up about how rich Rhysand is? Feyre literally has four or five houses and is always talking about how much jewelry and lingerie she can afford because Rhysand is so rich??? Well, Nesta has a few shots. So you know what Feyre does? Humiliates Nesta at this "intervention", TEARS DOWN HER HOME, and forces her to go to the Illyrian training camp.

That was the god awful premise for this book.

Did you think Elain wasn't there because she was against the "intervention"? Nope! She was packing Nesta's belongings without permission.

Remember in ACOMAF when it's made a big fucking deal that locking up a traumatised woman is extremely damaging? Well, when Nesta decides she doesn't want to be in Illyria, Feyre locks her in the House of Wind. Nesta can't fly, so her only way of leaving is down the TEN THOUSAND STEPS, that Feyre KNOWS Nesta isn't capable of climbing.

Feyre's pregnant. In ACOFAS she randomly decided that she wanted a baby to remember Rhysand by if he dies. Which doesn't make any sense because they made that stupid fucking death pact in ACOWAR. It's just SJM superimposing her pregnancy onto her early 20's protagonist. Ignoring the fact that Feyre isn't ready for a baby and Rhysand CERTAINLY isn't, and with a war just ended and another looming and so much trauma and a DEATH PACT are all such horrible circumstances to bring a child into, Feyre is already pregnant. Remember when SJM made a big deal about Fae babies being so hard to conceive, and Feyre said in ACOFAS they wouldn't have to worry for a long time because it can take years to conceive your first Fae child? Well it's been no more than 3 or 4 months and Feyre's already pregnant. Yep.

Also the birth will kill her. Because of course it will. Rhysand KNEW this, and still agreed to try for a baby.

There's no solution. Abortions don't exist for some stupid reason, and a C section would apparently kill Feyre?

(Wasn't this book supposed to be about Nessian?)

In ACOWAR, Cassian was on the battlefield with his entrails around his knees. Someone had to literally hold his guts in for him, and he's fine, but you're telling me a C section would kill Feyre?

Don't worry, this is just setting up the AWFUL ending to this book.

ACOSF amounts to Nesta being gaslit into believing her abusers are right. Her friends and family slut shame her and shame her for her lifestyle constantly. Cassian says it took him decades to work through some of his trauma, and he tried to drink and fuck it away too, but suddenly when Nesta does so it's heinous? Nesta's barely twenty five and she's expected to cope better than these ancient immortals.

Hell, didn't SJM write ACOMAF? Nobody expected Feyre to pick herself up so quickly. The IC (excluding Rhysand) respected her boundaries for the most part and understood when it was grief, trauma, and turmoil that made her angry, sad, want to be left alone, etc. But that's all forgotten here.

Amren also compares Nesta to the people in, and says she belongs in, The Court of Nightmares. You know, the murderers, abusers and rapists? This innocent woman who had a few shots and a bit of sex is on par with them, apparently!

The sex scenes.

SJM is scared to say vagina so she says sex.

She says seed to mean semen.

Apparently the word cunt turns SJM on. I just found Cassian saying that kinda cringe because I'm Bri'ish so the word cunt really isn't a big deal.

Back to the baby killing Feyre, because this is definitely what we all wanted from this book as indicated by the change in covers and format and title... Rhysand decides not to tell Feyre. He tells her friends and family, and tells them not to tell her.

SJM loves sweeping Rhysand's abuse from the first book under the rug and claiming it's always about Feyre's choice... where is that here, MAAS? WHERE IS IT?

Anyway, when Nesta rightfully decides to tell Feyre (although it is kind of out of spite), Rhysand threatens to kill Nesta.

And I believed him. With the way he treats his """mAtE tHaT hE lOvEs sO mUcH""" and all the people he's mindlessly killed before, do you really think he wouldn't kill the person who gave Feyre an inch of autonomy?

So what does Cassian do? His lover who he cares deeply about and suspects is his mate has received a death threat from tHe mOsT pOwErFuL hIgH lORd iN hIsToRy.

Cassian simply gets Nesta out of the court.

EXCUSE ME?

He doesn't breathe ONE word to Rhysand about this. This Illyrian WARRIOR who fought with his GUTS HANGING OUT didn't dare step up to the hIGh lOrD who he considers his brother and sparrs and fights with all the time?

Cassian literally does nothing.

Was it not Rhysand himself who said Mated males are dangerous? Can kill anyone who looks at their mate? Can be dangerous simply leaving the house? Rhys and Feyre both pull the Mate card to justify their bad actions on the other's behalf... and Cassian just tried to get Nesta out of the court?

Also, this High King bullshit.

I swear to fucking god, if SJM DARES to make this abusive, power-tripping, mOsT pOwErFuL hIgH lOrD eVEr, husband-insert of hers hIgH kInG, I will fight her in the street.

My beloved Lucien is in this book. Only for him to be used and shat on.

I really liked it when he calmed Cassian down with just a look though. Yes please fox man.

Helion is also in this book. Nothing to do with Lucien.

Eris is also in this book. ERIS. Lucien's eldest brother. The same one who abused him for years, but according to SJM he's slightly better, because at least he didn't agree to kill Lucien's lover. He betrayed his daddy that one time, therefore Eris is good. Y'know, the same Eris who abused Mor? Left her laying on the Autumn Court border with a nail in her womb? Well SJM is going back on her own canon to redeem yet ANOTHER abusive male, while continuing to demonize Tamlin for things he only happened to do when SJM decided the villain from the first book was sexy.

Nesta and Cassian are Mates.

Remember when Mates were supposed to be a rare and sacred thing? Now SJM dishes them out like Oprah.

I don't want these characters to be mates. I want to see them slowly fall in love. But SJM is incapable of writing that so she forces them together with the mAtInG bOnD. That's literally the only basis for most of these relationships, Feysand especially.

The only relationship where the bond would make sense is between Helion and The Lady of Autumn. Who still isn't named. But I will die on the hill that they're mates, I can feel it between them.

I wanted someone to die in this book. I predicted that it would either be Helion or Tarquin, but Tarquin isn't even in this one.

And the ending.

SJM can't write a decent climax, so she kills both Feyre and Rhysand for the second time. Yep.

The baby is being born which stupidly kills Feyre, and thankfully takes Rhysand with them.

Nesta decides to save them. Bad choice. But she decides to save them! Because she's so powerful and she ATE THE CONTENTS OF THE CAULDRON and she's CONNECTED TO THE MOTHER.

Do you know what happens.

Nesta loses her powers.

NESTA.

LOSES.

HER.

POWERS.

The powers we've hardly seen, the powers that were briefly mentioned and used ONCE in ACOWAR, then we saw like two flashes of in this book? They're GONE now. GONE SO NESTA CAN SAVE HER ABUSIVE SISTER AND ABUSIVE HUSBAND WHO ABUSES THEM BOTH.

Nesta is just an Amren now. They both fought for their powers, and had to give them up to save people who didn't deserve it. Now they're anticlimactically trapped in powerless bodies.

Also, and I can't BELIEVE I didn't originally include this - do you know what else Nesta TRADED HER POWERS FOR?

Illyrian anatomy so she can carry Cassian's baby one day.

EXCUSE ME?

I am so fucking SICK TO DEATH of the narrative that every woman needs a man and children to be happy. SJM clearly loves this because she's literally only keeping Amren and Nesta alive now to be sex objects to their partners and nothing else seeing as their POWERS WERE RIPPED AWAY FROM THEM, and now NESTA TRADED THOSE POWERS TO HAVE A BABY SHE DOESN'T EVEN KNOW SHE WANTS? Nesta does NOT strike me as a motherly type. She's the wine aunt, she and Cassian are the couple that go on holiday a lot and and babysit their nieces and nephews, but nope. Nesta HAS to have children.

The Feysand baby is called Nyx. That's just so underwhelming, you go from these huge, multiple syllable names like Amarantha and Morrigan and Lucien to Nyx? I get it's supposed to be unique but it's not even meaningful. It's just more shit-flavoured icing on the hAHa nIgHt uWu cake. I prefer Renesmée.

Nesta is wrong somehow. She says she's sorry as she's saving them. FOR WHAT? For being a little rude to Feyre as all sisters are? And rightfully hating your sister's abuser?

Oh yeah, remember in ACOWAR when Nesta took care of a comatose, starving Elain for months? Elain is randomly okay now because she takes care of her mental health the stereotypical way of baking cakes, and not drinking and fucking, which she shames Netsa for.

Remember the slut shaming, demeaning comments that the whole iNnEr cIrClE made about Nesta? They all expect apologies from her. For some reason.

Nesta has done nothing wrong. She coped with her trauma and minded her business in her own ways, and she's expected to apologise to the people who control and emotionally abuse her.

Nothing that any of these characters did to Nesta is right. Nesta wasn't okay at the end, this wasn't Nesta's healing story. This is Nesta being shamed and degraded until she submits.

Oh I can't believe I forgot to write this in my first draft of this review, do you know how Nesta "overcomes" her grief about her Father's death and her conflicting feelings about him and his life and her guilt? When she visits his grave for the first time, she takes Nyx.

NYX.

She holds NYX up to the grave and talks about how it's his grandson.

GO AWAY YOU STUPID DEMON BABY THIS IS NOT YOUR BOOK.

Speaking of, it's revealed that Nesta was abused by her mother and grandmother in this book? Something we were all looking forward to is seeing more of the Archeron's mother seeing as Feyre was so young when she died, but... nope. She gets a few vague mentions, and this newly revealed abuse is entirely glossed over. Nesta was also actively groomed by an older man at 14. But SJM glosses over this because of course she does.

Finally, the bonus chapters.

My edition came with a bonus chapter from Feyre's POV. It was pointless and I hated it.

There's another bonus chapter from Azriel's POV. Once I'd finished this book, he was one of the few characters I still harboured a shred of respect for.

Then I read his bonus chapter.

This exists to purely objectify Elain.

Whether you ship Elain with Azriel, or Lucien, or neither, this chapter is disgusting. He thinks about her coming on his tounge, and other things simply just to please him.

He then dares to suggest that "the Cauldron picked wrong" in choosing Lucien as Elain's mate?

No Azriel, SJM picked RIGHT in not giving each Archeron sister a bAt bOy.

Rhysand does the only right thing he's ever done by telling Azriel to stay away from Elain, but then he has to ruin it by clarifying that it's only so they can manipulate and use Lucien more.

Oh, and Azriel wants to kill Lucien.

Need I remind you that Lucien respects Azriel? Lucien is another victim of the Night Court's needless, baseless torment, and Azriel is no exception.

Lucien stays well out of Elain's way because she makes it clear that she's not interested in a mate, but Azriel wants to kill him simply for being her mate.

Lucien has done nothing. And I mean literally NOTHING to warrant any of this treatment. From the bAt bOyS, from Feyre, from his family, from SJM, from the deluded part of this fandom that think he's done wrong. NOTHING.

All I liked about this book was the Lucien scenes (which is a given), ((although I hated the way everyone talks about him behind his back)), Nesta's relationship with the house, Emerie and Gwyn, the evidence that Gwynriel is endgame and subsequently Elucien, and the book love. Everything else was horrible. Oh, and Nesta hates Rhysand. I love that for her, because everyone else bows at his feet.

Oh yeah, when Nesta DARES suggest that Rhysand is an "arrogant, preening asshole" which I think is a compliment, Cassian can't take Rhys' cock out of his mouth for one second, and has to get mad at her for having an opinion. Don't even get me started on Azriel in that scene.

If each book after ACOTAR made me slowly give up, this book made me give up altogether. I cannot go on to support this victim-blaming, abuse-forgiving, misogynistic series. I've given up on SJM, and the only characters I care about anyone are Lucien, Nesta, Helion, and Tarquin. I'll continue to read this series to see if SJM redeems herself, but I'll be downloading them for free. I'm not giving this piece of shit any more of my money.

I hope we don't get the Lucien book. I don't want her to slaughter my fox in the way she slaughtered LITERALLY EVERYONE ELSE.

Thanks for listening.

Edit: I put the review on Goodreads!

[dweetwise]

A bit different from my usual content, this fic features @saycheesekid 's beautiful OC Minerva who is Ace's wife from before the fog. It's my first time writing someone else's OC and I hope I did her justice, because I adore her dynamic with Ace! (Also Felix POV because apparently I'm incapable of not including him in fics)

Ships 💞: Ace x OC, Felix x his girlfriend Warnings⚠️: Miscarriage mention Word count: 2.8k

[Ace X OC] Apple of my eye

Family.

Something that Felix had always considered the most important thing in the world. From trying to make his father proud to pulling himself together and preparing to give his unborn child everything under the sun, the concept of family had shaped most of Felix's life.

And maybe that was why it was so easy for him to see how closely the dynamic of his fellow survivors resembled one.

Opposite the log to Felix's, Minerva was braiding Meg's hair into an elaborate French braid. The woman let Meg rant loudly about her latest trial, always willing to lend an ear and patiently bear the redhead's frustrations.

Nancy walked up to the duo and spoke in a low voice Felix couldn't make out the words of, prompting Minerva to pause her braiding project long enough to hand the girl what looked to be a gauze roll. Nancy departed with a smile – a rare sight that Felix had only caught a handful of times – and Minerva focused back on the angry redhead at her feet.

A loud laugh carried out across the campsite, making Felix turn his attention to where Ace looked to be showing a magic trick to a small group.

The gambler was running a poker chip over his knuckles and between his fingers, the movement of the item difficult to follow until it finally seemed to disappear into thin air.

"Where did it go?" Ace asked his audience, a grin on his face as he held up his empty hands. "Everyone check their pockets, just in case!"

The others did as instructed. When a confused Feng fished out the very same poker chip from the front pocket of her jeans, Dwight gasped and Nea laughed and Feng, furious, started pestering a smirking Ace to “Tell me how you did it, it's not fucking magic!”

Felix, however, merely deflated and looked back at the half-empty, forgotten med-kit in his lap.

On one hand, it was incredible how even amidst the death and violence of the Entity's world, the survivors had managed to form a family of their own. He saw how they each had their own roles, from Nea's youthful brashness to Bill's grumpy caring, and the camaraderie they had all formed during the last few years was something Felix was honored to be part of.

But at the same time, Felix was supposed to become a father. Yet he was always stuck at the sidelines, helpless to do anything but watch as others more suited for the task comforted those who were struggling from homesickness or a bad trial. Felix could barely instruct Quentin about toolbox efficiency without tripping over his words, much less be a parental figure for any of the poor kids trapped in this hellscape with him.

It was clear that he needed outside advice.

═════════════ ♢ ═════════════

Felix resumed stocking his med-kit while he waited. Fortunately, it wasn't long before Ace returned to Minerva's side.

The woman was just finishing up Meg's new braid and sent the redhead on her way with a smile, Meg excitedly bounding over to where Feng was still busy glaring at the remnants of Ace's magic trick.

"Ciao, bella," Ace leered. Felix watched him lean to place a peck on his wife's cheek. "Is your hair salon finally closed for the day?"

"I might just have time to make you pigtails," Minerva replied with a smirk. "Did you have fun messing with the children again?"

"What do you mean, mess with them? I'll have you know that was pure magic!"

Minerva rolled her eyes at her husband's antics, though she was still smiling fondly.

The couple lapsed into comfortable silence – the kind Felix assumed came from years of being married – and he figured that this might be his only chance.

"They really like you," Felix said.

Minerva and Ace both looked up to meet his eyes and Felix cleared his throat under their attention.

"The teens," Felix clarified. "It's good that they have people like you – both of you. In here."

Realizing how awkward he sounded, Felix resolutely turned his attention back to the med-kit. This whole advice thing was turning out to be a spectacularly bad idea.

"Thank you, Felix," Minerva said. At the warmth in her voice, Felix hesitantly looked back up. "I'm glad you think so."

"Absolutely!" Ace agreed. "I don't know how much I'm actually contributing aside from the occasional dad joke, but it's good for the kids to have a campfire mom, huh?"

"Oh, don't sell yourself short," Minerva said. "The dad jokes are at least a daily occurrence."

Ace chortled and even Felix smiled at the couple's easy back and forth.

"You are both really good with the younger survivors," Felix said. "Do you have children of your own?"

"Oh, no!" Ace laughed. He reached out to grab his wife's hand. "Our life was plenty chaotic without a kid thrown into the mix; can't really bring a baby to a casino or have the kid change schools every two months when we moved across the world!"

"We would have had to drastically change our lifestyle," Minerva said. "And then those years had already passed."

Minerva looked down at their joined hands with a contemplative expression. There was an unexplainable tension in the air and Felix was eager to move on from the subject.

"I see," Felix simply said. "I just thought from how natural you act with them, you seemed like you had experience in parenting."

"Well, we've been around kids a lot!" Ace said.

Minerva perked up. "I've got many nieces and nephews," she said, "And Ace has younger siblings. You often took care of them in your childhood, correct?"

"Unfortunately," Ace scrunched up his nose. "Gotta say, changing diapers is one thing I don't miss. Especially when your baby brother happens to have really good aim."

Minerva giggled and Felix politely chuckled, even though he didn't really understand the joke. What would a baby need target practice for?

"What about you?" Minerva asked, addressing Felix. "Do you have experience with children?"

"No," Felix said. "And that’s the problem. I –"

He hesitated. Though he would consider Ace and Minerva his friends, they weren’t exactly close, as Felix had been careful to keep most of his personal life private. Everyone except Élodie and a few others only knew that his girlfriend was pregnant at the time of his disappearance. Hopefully, the couple wouldn’t judge him for this.

"I fear I won't make a very good father,” Felix confessed.

Minerva's expression softened. "I'm sure that won't be the case."

"Yeah, just don't worry about it!" Ace exclaimed.

Felix stared blankly at the man's cheerful smile. If he could simply will his anxiety away, he would have done so about thirty years ago – not be stuck with it screaming at him about what a terrible parent he would make.

"Kids are easy!" Ace continued in a way of explanation. "Just talk to them and make them laugh if you can. And let them be kids and run around and climb in trees without worrying about if they'll get hurt! Kids are much tougher than they look."

“I agree with most of that,” Minerva said. “But I still wouldn't recommend things like playing catchwith them.”

"What?" Felix frowned, his idyllic fantasy of throwing a ball with his future son shattered. "I thought that was a child-safe activity. I guess the ball could injure the child, but I don't throw very hard –"

"Oh, no, baseball is absolutely fine," Minerva said, then turned to give Ace an unimpressed look. "But Ace plays catch by throwing a three-year-old six feet into the air and hoping he'll catch them –"

"And I have a one hundred percent success rate!" Ace protested. "Better than any baseball player. Totally safe activity! And your nephew loves it, he's always waddling up to me and reaching up his arms –"

While Ace kept rambling and horrifying Felix more and more by the second, Minerva looked back at Felix, shook her head and mouthed "no" and Felix instantly relaxed.

It was good that he wasn't expected to be physically throwing his child anywhere.

═════════════ ♢ ═════════════

Minerva and Ace kept recounting anecdotes of their own while trying to reassure Felix's new-parent-stress. They were being incredibly accommodating and didn't seem to be judging Felix for his lack of experience.

And maybe that was why Felix felt comfortable enough to ask a question that he hadn’t dared voice to anyone before.

"What if it's…" Felix hesitated. "What if the baby is a girl?"

Ace's head tilted comically in confusion – like that was the dumbest question Felix could have possibly asked.

"I didn't have any siblings," Felix hurried to explain. "I have no knowledge of what interests young girls have and what type of care they need."

Minerva smiled – still much too patient. "Well, first of all, girls aren't an alien species."

"That's exactly what an alien would say," Ace interjected.

At another look from his wife, Ace raised his hands up in surrender and quieted down.

"There’s just as much of a chance that she would end up liking soccer and a boy would want to ride horses," Minerva continued. "No matter what the child's interest or gender, they need their father's love and attention to thrive."

Felix hummed in understanding, then looked at Ace for his viewpoint.

"I mean," Ace grinned. "I'd only add that maybe don't buy a pony when the kid inevitably begs for one, but you can obviously afford it, so…"

"As long as you don't spoil them," Minerva said. "I know you have the means, but boundaries are important for a child."

Felix nodded, though that didn't really tell him anything. How was he supposed to know what purchases would further his child's well-being and what would be excessive?

Ace elbowed Minerva with a good-natured grin. "I think we lost him.”

"Sorry," Felix hurried to apologize. "I appreciate your advice. I just don't know if I'm going to be able to make the right decisions as a parent."

"Felix… I think you're forgetting that you aren't alone in this," Minerva said. "The child has two parents. You won't need to make decisions on your own; both you and the mother will come to know your child best and can decide. Together." 

"Yeah," Ace agreed, looking at Minerva with a smile. "Having someone to share the highs and lows with really makes all the difference."

Minerva returned the smile and brought up a petite hand to cup her husband's cheek. "And you wouldn't change it for the world," she murmured. "Even if they sometimes drive you insane."

Ace chuckled and leaned in to kiss her and Felix politely averted his eyes.

He hoped that one day he and his girlfriend could be as comfortable and open with each other as those two. Maybe Felix should have been more honest with her, about the work stress and his grief and fears about becoming a parent. He had seen the look of worry in her beautiful eyes every time he stumbled home late from a bar, but had brushed off her attempts at reaching out and only managed to pull himself together once she shared the news of the baby.

God, he wanted nothing more than the chance to make things right. He missed her like crazy; it had been two years in the Entity's realm and he had no way of knowing how time passed outside of here. He only hoped that she hadn’t been forced to have the child alone, an unwilling single parent struggling with the same doubts that Felix was now, in addition to thinking that Felix had abandoned them –

"Felix, I don't think you ever mentioned kt," Minerva started, pulling Felix out of his spiralling thoughts. "Can I ask how far along your girlfriend is in her pregnancy?"

"Oh," Felix said. "Four months, when I disappeared. Though I’m not sure how time progresses here; the child will probably have already been born when I return."

Minerva nodded, though there was something… odd about the faraway look in her eyes.

"Is something wrong?" Felix asked.

"No, I – ah," Minerva faltered.

"Honey…" Ace said, clear worry on his face.

Minerva, however, seemed to have made up her mind, and continued. "Please don't take it for granted," she said, her voice strained. "There’s a possibility that when you return, the child… won't be there waiting for you."

And then Minerva, normally so elegant and put-together, curled in on herself and wrapped an arm around her midsection. Shame washed over Felix; the woman’s grief was obvious, and he felt absolutely horrible for having brought up unpleasant memories.

Instantly, Ace was there. He pulled Minerva close and kissed her temple, at the roots of her hair where blonde became black.

"But even if the worst happens, you'll get through it," Ace told Felix as much as Minerva. "I know you're excited for the kid, and it'll feel like the end of the world if something happens to them," Ace's smile wavered ever so briefly. "But you'll pull through. As long as you're there for each other and give yourselves time to grieve, you'll be alright."

Minerva reached for Ace's hand again. Ace’s hand enveloped her smaller one and he rested his head on top of hers.

Felix looked down at his feet both to give them space and contemplate their words. He hadn't even considered the possibility that his child might not make it into this world; he had been much too stressed about what types of diapers to buy and which kindergartens were the best in his area.

Perhaps he needed to get his priorities in order.

"Wow, look at us," Minerva suddenly huffed. "We're scaring him with every worst-case scenario."

"Oh, ehm –" Felix stammered. "Don't worry about me."

"Aw, jeez," Ace chuckled. "We're gonna get some angry calls from your girlfriend about 'Felix keeps talking to the baby bump 24/7 and refuses to even let me go to the bathroom alone', aren't we?"

Felix felt his neck flush from embarrassment. He might be a little bit of a worrier and had a tendency to overthink things, but surely, he wouldn't be that bad –

"Felix," Minerva said, gaining his attention. She was smiling again. "I didn't mean to worry you. It's merely that… there's a lot of things nobody tells first-time parents."

Now, Felix definitely got the picture that she was speaking from experience.

"Thank you," Felix said. "I appreciate all your advice. Truly."

"Thank you for listening to us ramble," Ace grinned. "We can be a lot, I know."

"No, you were both a great help," Felix said.

"That's kind of you to say," Minerva smiled. "And I have no doubt that you'll be a great father."

Felix cleared his throat and fidgeted in his seat. "I'll try my best."

"You'll be just fine. The way you worry just shows how much you care –"

"What the fuck were you thinking!?" a distinctly Laurie-like voice screeched across the campsite, effectively interrupting their conversation.

The rare occurrence of the girl swearing had the trio turning to look over to where a small commotion had formed. Apparently, the group to arrive from the latest trial had some things they needed to air out.

"It was supposed to be a guaranteed escape!" Steve protested Laurie's verbal assault. "I had the perks and the salt offering and everything! Ace told me it would work –"

"That is the dumbest thing I've ever heard!" Yun-jin interjected from beside Laurie. "You nearly got me killed!"

"It's not dumb!"

"Argh! Minervaaa!!" Laurie yelled.

Minerva offered a small sigh. "Coming!" she hollered to the others.

"Well, looks like I'm needed elsewhere," Minerva said, rising to her feet. She brushed off her jeans and straightened her shirt – always taking care of her appearance even in this world of nothing but blood and dirt and violence.

Ace grinned and made no move to follow her. "Have fun!"

"Oh no, you're coming with me," Minerva said. Ace opened his mouth, but she was quicker. "You started this whole mess, and you'll clean it up."

"Your evidence won't hold up in court," Ace joked, yet obediently got up to join his wife. "Fine, I'll go see what the little rascal has been up to."

Ace made for where Laurie was still glaring at Steve.

"So! I heard someone is in dire need of a lawyer to get them out of these preposterous charges –" Ace began.

And that was apparently the cue for Laurie, Steve and Yun-jin to all start talking over each other.

Felix saw Minerva roll her eyes before she looked back at him.

"Another parenting lesson for you," Minerva said, the corner of her mouth quirking up. "When dealing with children, you can say goodbye to your free time."

Felix chuckled as she made her way over to the group to start sorting out not only the others' disagreement, but also her husband egging on the argument.

So maybe Felix wouldn't be the perfect parent. But from what was apparent right before his eyes when Laurie looked at Minerva speaking in clear adoration and Steve grinned at Ace defending him, Felix’s child would probably still love him.

[sparklycardigan]

Your tags on the "Jess and Lorelai are alike" post reminds me of something that occurred to me a while back, and that is: Jess is a combination of all the people Rory loves most, in one person. He's like Lorelai, but he's also like Luke. And she can share music with him the way she does with Lane, and argue with him like Paris, and share her love of literature with him like Richard... I mean, I know I'm biased, but clearly that means he's her perfect person! 😉 (Once they're both mature and ready, of course. Which is the thing, isn't it?)

Believe it or not, this actually crossed my mind a couple of times too, I'm just incapable of articulating my thoughts sometimes, mind gets overcrowded with ideas and the ideas obviously like hanging out together, but they also fight and I'm pretty sure there's some popcorn involved too (woah, previous sentence, Lorelai much?). Okay, hear me out (for the 2627627372 time, how do people still put up with me, where's the Lorelai quote???

yeah, that's the one!!!!!😌)

Anyhow, here are the 🎇thoughts🎇 (heads up: the following text is messy and probably makes zero sense, sorry in advance):

It's already been established that Jess is kind of an anomaly to the Gilmore Girls universe given how he has storylines that are entirely separated from the lives of the girls. If any of the characters was going to be shown as (shown as, it's all about perception) a collection of different personalities, it was him (besides the Gilmores, but they are the protagonists, it makes sense that they are the ones with the most layer). And people tend to be contradictory personality-wise in real life, but for writing, choosing to put the main focus on particular character(s) and showing the story from their point of view implies that you have to approach everybody else's story with a rather subjective lens. And that means how every person in the life of the main character gets a set of traits that resonate with said main character the most. Those are the traits that are going to be highlighted. Example (everything turns into a science experiment with me apparently): if Paris were to be the main character, the show would have naturally explored more of her journey and given us more information about her experiences (note how we already have more than enough material to analyse when it comes to her, but the things we have are heavily intertwined with the way Rory perceives her), but would have cut a bunch of Rory-related storylines. Maybe Paris wouldn't be as beloved because there would be more of her to see and Rory would have been a very different character from the Rory that we know (in what way different, I don't know, but it's not that relevant to my point). What I'm trying to put an accent on here is that Jess obviously has a lot of traits that resonate with Rory considering the manner in which his story is handled. It all links directly to that conversation we had a while back, the "they see each other with absolutely no filter" one. Rory understands and knows Jess (and vice versa, but the important puzzle piece here is that the show is told through Rory's pov) to that great of an extent to make him worth the risk of challenging the way this entire creative universe works (this can be applied to Luke in relation to Lorelai too). Even with Lane, the aspects of her life we are allowed to witness are the aspects of her life that Rory's been introduced to in detail (and if Rory knows about it, it's automatically a part of her universe). On the other hand, there's a bunch of stuff that Jess goes through that Rory has absolutely no knowledge of (and doesn't get to discover in the eternity of the show either, the swan incident for example), but still, the creators chose to show us that regardless. I think it says a lot about the importance of Jess in Rory's life. I totally followed the train of thought too far into the forest here, I'm a big time geek when it comes to the writing process and the way that things work😅. I just think it's not a coincidence that Jess is shown to share/shares that many personality traits with people important to Rory. And yes, I'm referring to him and Rory as life mates (let's just hope I get the copyright from Anne Shirley in court) from now on, I think it fits perfectly. They're each other's person, you know? And I am in no way dissatisfied with their ending in AYTL (open endings my beloved <3). Literati just give me that "best friends first, soul connection" vibe (and I kind of have a reputation for being a platonic soulmates queen around here so I suppose my take is somewhat valid, friendship is the solid ground of their dynamic, that's why they keep coming back to each other, there's no magical destiny stuff involved, I need to write a detailed post on that). I do believe Jess is Rory's 🎇perfectly imperfect geek🎇. And now I shall add Grey's Anatomy quotes because that's from where I get the my person obsession:

I think I might be a Gilmore myself, I managed to talk about a thousand things in one post and who knows what will happen in the tags...

[pfreadsandwrites]

Congrats on gaining 100 followers🎉🎉You deserve all of them and more! 🥳 I'm looking forward to everything you're planning to write in the future❤️ As for the prompts, would you please do #160 with Kakashi? Go wild with it 👁👁 Thank you and I wish the best for your blog❤️

100 follower celebration

Okay, here it is! I want to thank you specifically @madaras-housewife because you have been so amazing and supportive from the first fic I posted here and your encouragement has really helped this blog grow and made me write more. So thank you so much, and I’m sorry this took me forever to get out!! This was a bit of an unusual one so it took me a while to think about, and apologies if it’s not wild enough heh but I tried my best to develop it into something. But thank you for everything and I really hope you enjoy this :) I tried my best to go ‘out there’ and wild with it lol.  Also can I just say this mangacap is perfect for the last part of this one-shot lol. 

warnings/notes: third person, Kakashi pov, female civilian reader (she works at the hospital but plz don’t ask for details beyond that lol), pining Kakashi, kinda fluffy, then kinda sad, then kinda hopeful, marking this as 18+ since there is a paragraph that is brief NSFW mentions, in my mind this takes place between the time skip between part 1 and part 2 but it doesn’t really matter. Told in 4 small vignettes/parts essentially. 2.7k words.

taglist: @allthingskakashi @datblobbyfish @enchantedpendant @madaras-housewife @ibukiirisha @praisingkuroosbedhead @cinam00n @feelingsandemotionsnotexplored

160. “Do you think you could teach me that?”

i.

It’s a simple question.

Of course, it’s also a pointless question, one that Kakashi’s sure she’ll see through, one that he shouldn’t even think about asking.

Of course, he’s in the hospital again. Of course, she’s the one with the misfortune of tending to him again. Of course, he’s mesmerised while her hands dutifully wrap the tourniquet around his arm, like she’s cutting off the blood to his brain.

So, of course, he asks it without thinking.

The self-admonishment starts before the words finish leaving his mouth.

Do you think you could teach me that?

His cheeks heat up as the words catch up with him. They echo again and again, serving only to jeer at him further. What the hell is he thinking, making a request like that? A request that’s so nonsensical, so outlandish, so flimsily shrouding its true intent that she’d be justified in ridiculing him right there.

But it’s done now. Here he is, asking a bizarre favour of a civilian woman already doing him a favour.

Kakashi’d be content if the ground gives away underneath him, snatching him from this damn hospital bed. When he ponders the situation further, and he finds himself contemplating her reaction - no doubt a bewildered, adorable expression would grace her beautiful features (God, how much deeper could he get?) - he almost wants to slap himself. How did he go from the Copy Ninja, Konoha’s best jounin, to an awkward dork so swiftly and smoothly? Not only that, but she hadn’t even said anything yet. Kakashi wanted to die.

Fortunately, she only pauses. Unfortunately, her delicate fingers still against his skin, and the sensation flusters and soothes him simultaneously. But it’s only for a moment, before she diligently returns to the task at hand. Even if she’s surprised, or worse, amused, she knows to conceal it. Taking his question seriously in that earnest way that only she can. It should have eased his mind, but instead there’s only guilt at having perplexed her.

“…You want to learn this? Don’t you have enough on your plate?” She asks, bereft of judgement or ridicule.

He shouldn’t have expected any less, he knows that, and yet he still finds himself on the edge. On that precipice between anxiety and comfort, where he’s always standing around her. He can’t even formulate a response to her simple question. Yes - he probably did have enough to do. And yes, he wouldn’t have got this far without some knowledge of first aid and basic medical ninjutsu - and she probably knew that too.

“I could probably manage. It’s not a problem if you don’t have the time.” As typical as it is for him to answer a question without explaining himself further, he berates himself for it this time. Why had he made this so convoluted? And why does she let him?

“I could probably make time,” she retorts, though her voice remains gentle. “I just didn’t think there’d be anything useful you could learn from me, or that you didn’t already know.”

Nothing useful you could learn from me, or that you didn’t already know.

This time, her words echo in his mind. They’re just as kind and nudging as he thought they would be. But that didn’t mean they were any less ridiculous.

Apparently, there’s nothing he can learn from her. Nothing she can teach him.

Nothing he can learn from the woman who always smiles so brightly and indiscriminately at anyone who graced her that it renders them all equal - turning everyone from the grumpy old curmudgeon to the innocent newborn to cheerful, optimistic entities at her mercy. Nothing he can learn from her inability to use her mysterious power for anything but good, to see the value in everyone, in him, against all better judgement.

Nothing he can learn from her selflessness, and her weird knack for chiding herself for her momentary lapses in kindness, for things others don’t think twice about. Nothing he can learn from her patience and empathy in the most ridiculous situations, and her faltering in it when she draws the attention inwards.

Nothing he could learn from the woman who’s determination to revel in life, even as the opposite surrounded her, surrounded him, surrounded everyone in this cursed village, managed to bring even the heavy weight of death to its knees. Nothing he could learn from the woman who didn’t even seem fazed by it, as she tended to the hospital’s neonates with a giggle and a zest for life that he barely comprehends, much less hopes to emulate.

If - he surprises himself at his optimism, but he owes it to her - he’s incapable of learning nothing from all that, then there isn’t much hope for him at all. And if there’s one thing she inspires, if he can even pick one, it’s hope.

Kakashi eventually stops ruminating. And of course, she lets him. A wry smile forms on his lips. “I wouldn’t say that.”

She glances back at him expectantly. Curiously.

“I think there’s a lot you could teach me, you know.”

She’s already taught him without intending to, he remembers, when she doesn’t press him for an explanation. She only smiles that shy, powerful smile.

But they both know it’s acknowledgement. Of what he’s trying to say, of what he’s asking her in his awkward, haphazard way. Kind as she is, even if she shouldn’t be, she agrees.

***

ii.

And so, ever the one to keep her promise, she sets about teaching him. And Kakashi, ever the one to falter, but never one to abandon, keeps coming back. He’s a quick learner in more ways he thought.

She teaches him that finding something to smile about in the day is easier than it seems.

She teaches him to laugh when he drops by the hospital to see her and a very small patient points at his hair and berates him from escaping from the geriatric ward.

She teaches him allowance for his mistakes, and respite for his suffering.

She teaches him what a fool he’s been for denying himself an embrace all these years.

She teaches him that a kiss might be more eternal, more damning, more fate-consigning that it has any right to be.

She doesn’t have to teach him just how intoxicating, addictive it is to kiss her between the legs. She doesn’t have to teach him just where and how to move his tongue before she’s tugging at that wild silver hair of his. And when he moves in her, when she clutches onto him for dear life, whispering his name in that weak, but lingering whimper, when their breaths mingle together and she manages to exalt everything from him - his love, his strength, his seed - she doesn’t have to teach him that though the price of vulnerability is high, the reward is even higher.

She teaches him, when he dares ask what he sees in a man like her, that there’s an answer to that question that satisfies him.

She teaches him that whilst leaving for a mission used to be easy, it might one day become difficult - even for him, the one who has over a thousand under his belt, the one who only has that many because he wished one would kill him. She teaches him to admit that, too.

And when it does become difficult, just as she taught, he learns that a person waiting back home is much more motivating than a death wish could ever be.

She teaches him to forgive himself, as she begins to accompany him on his graveside visits. She teaches him that there’s a chance - a small chance, Kakashi admits, but a chance nonetheless - that there’s more for his life than living it as a penance to ghosts.

She teaches him that dreaming isn’t just for the young, the idealistic, the good. It’s for the hurt, tired veteran too.

She teaches him that hearing those three words aren’t as terrifying as he’d convinced himself all these years.

He learns, when he finally returns them, that he should have said it back long ago. Because it was all worth it just for that look on her face.

***

iii.

Their time together, dreamlike as it is, is always interrupted.

She’s used to it, calmly nodding in his direction at the summoning bird that’s taken to pecking at her window now too. He nods in kind, and with a quick kiss, he’s off on his next mission. She’s always accepting, always understanding, but the patient stare that bores into his back as he leaps off towards the gravestone (an eternal part of the farewell ritual) belies her anxiety.

Still, Kakashi does make it back. And he does again and again. Sometimes his returns are at the hospital - and that expression of hers, where she doesn’t know whether to chide him for his injury or cry that he’s still in one piece - fills him with equal parts guilt and encouragement.

She still never loses that smile, though. The smile that everyone knows.

He has to leave it behind again.

He makes it back. Without a scratch, for once, but figures he might surprise her at the hospital anyway. Strange. He used to be so good at avoiding this place, and now it’s the first place he comes to of his own accord. It’s just another way he’s lost against her, but he doesn’t begrudge it. Maybe he wants some praise for being more careful, but he won’t admit that outright. Maybe he’s getting worse and worse at waiting for that smile, too.

His optimism is never rewarded. He’s been through enough to remember that, but he’s still foolish enough to forget.

It feels different, today, walking through the corridors that she’s made so inexplicably light, so jovial. She easily leaves her mark without trying, to the awe of shinobi and civilians alike.

So when the atmosphere is dense, experience teaches him to dread it. He asks at the front desk, forgetting his tendency to hide all he can about his personal life. The woman stares up at him with wide eyes, hesitating before regaining her composure.

“(Name) isn’t working at the moment. She’s in room 175.”

She doesn’t say anything else, but it wouldn’t matter if she had. The familiar dread creeps up through his bones.

He’s prepared himself for the worst by the time he’s at her room, but it’s moot when he sees her lying there. She’s lost all her colour, she’s thinner - everything about her that’d remembered these few weeks had become so weak. Her vivacity, her will to endure, had even fooled him. But she was just as fragile as anyone else. Except for him. Why the fuck couldn’t he break, instead of someone else, instead of something that meant anything just this one fucking time?

He sits at her bedside, his calloused fingers touching her dainty ones. She’s only sleeping, at least. Purple and blue spread like constellations over her skin, bandages on her arms and cheeks - the kind of injuries he’d expect on a ninja. Of a ninja too. Thoughts upon thoughts flood his mind - how the hell did this happen? Who did this to her? If she’s not safe in the damn village that he fought to protect, where the hell could she be safe?

And, of course, the curse that he’s done so well to forget he has. Did this happen, somehow, because against all judgement, he had let himself become close to her? It makes sense that he’d only be able to fool himself to a point.

And, of course, as if to shush his self-loathing and anxiety, in that fucking selfless way she always did, that broke his heart even more - her fingers move against his.

She blinks her eyes open slowly and turns her gaze to him. She doesn’t have the energy to smile, but she tries to mimic it in the look in her eyes.

“I wasn’t expecting you back so soon.”

He clasps her hand tight - and lets go just as quickly when she winces. “What the hell happened, (Name)?”

She softens her gaze. “It’s funny that I’m the one that ended up like this, when you’re the one that went out on a mission.” Her tone is light, but somehow the hum of her voice brings gravity, whether she wants it to or not.

She won’t answer his question. As if she feels guilty that she’s putting him through something, which only hurts all the more. And Kakashi knows that insisting too strongly is too unfair, too cruel when she seems so tired, no matter how much his blood boils.

There was an attack, he figures that much, and he overhears more from a nurse. A drunk jounin who’d come across her on his way home.

It’s dealt with swiftly, with the speed and efficiency Kakashi prides himself on, but it isn’t enough. He can’t forgive himself, even if she does.

She recovers soon enough, but only to a point.

Her smile is gone. The openness she’d inspire in everyone around her, the joy she’d invite - it dwindles down to nothing. It’s all too much, too familiar, a sad story he’s seen up and close too many times.

Any smile she makes now is a facsimile, a ghost of anything she could have offered previously. But her kindness still forces her to attempt it, no matter how much it hurts, when Kakashi looks at her.

As impressive as her will is, it’s only finite. He berates himself as she breaks one night, and sobs into his chest.

But she doesn’t do it again.

She doesn’t seem to do much of anything anymore.

He has another mission.

***

iv.

Kakashi’s at the training grounds again. He’s here a lot these days. When there isn’t a mission, he’s got into the habit of putting his body through the wringer. It’s what he deserves, at the very least. Besides, he has a lot more free time than he used to. As the raindrops mix with his sweat, his lightning style blends just as seamlessly with the sky.

“Do you think you could teach me that?”

The voice is familiar. Gentle, just like it used to be. Shakier than it used to be, but there’s a faint hint of the quiet resolve he used to hear, that he was foolish enough to take for granted.

He pauses. The chakra he’d gathered in his hands dissipates, and he turns around. He’s no amateur, he knew he wasn’t alone. But he could tell his little observer wasn’t there to pose a threat, either. She watches him with her wide eyes, the wide eyes that historically and even now freeze him in place. She was never one to marvel at his ninjutsu before, only acquiescing or being impressed where appropriate, - and that’s not quite what she’s doing now, either.

“Well -,” she holds her right arm with her left. It’s a normal gesture. One that would have endeared him, but only makes his heart sink now. Suddenly it’s difficult to watch her doubt herself. “Not that exactly. I don’t even want to do that even if I could. But anything you can teach me. It doesn’t have to be a lot. I think I’d be fine with a little. It’d be enough to feel better. If you don’t have too much on your plate.”

He’s watching her now, studying that expression in her eyes. Where she’s determined and defiant, even in that modest way. He believes her - she doesn’t want to learn a lot. She doesn’t want to be too much like him. But she’s allowing herself to learn from him. She’s letting herself take, not just give.

“Alright. Tomorrow, then. But let’s get you home first. It’s late, raining…,” his voice trails off, brushing off the rain from his hair sheepishly. “And I could use a break.”

She begins to smile that shy, powerful smile again. It’s sincere, and her ability to infect others with it seems to have returned. “That’s fine by me. I hear you’ve been overdoing it lately."

Kakashi finds himself grinning back.

Do you think you could teach me that?

It’s a simple question.

[aelaer]

Suicide TW!!! I live for the Nick/Stephen frenemy relationship, so: AU where Stephen is severely depressed and, instead of crashing his car, he parks in a pull-over and attempts suicide (drugs, alcohol, cutting, up to you) only to then be hit by an oncoming car. As a result, he ends up in hospital to realise that not only is he still alive, but Nick knows what he did. He can't stand the shame and humiliation, until he hears the words "I'm sorry" out of nowhere.

Okay nonny, so a couple things:

By relationship I presume you meant “platonic relationship” as my list of (serious) romance-focused stories in the MCU is a big fat zero and will remain that way probably for some time. If not all time. But I never say never.

I altered the scenario a bit and decided not to use a car crash, but the main elements (depression/suicide, Nick and Stephen interaction, Nick Knowing) remain. This also sort of allows it to potentially be in the “realm of canon” with enough stretching, should one decide to want the headcanon. Though IMO this is an AU-verse.

So I hope that’s all okay and you still find it fulfilling. I’ve never actually written Nick before (though I dabbled with the idea of all the events of Doctor Strange from Nick’s POV like, back when the film first came out) so that was also fun. I really dislike fics that make him look like an idiot (or worse, a pervert for some weird ass reason) so it’s great to get my own view out.

And I also didn’t want to write a book because I’ve got too many WIPs that are books that need to get finished first, so I was going for “short and sweet”. In a manner of speaking. I mean it seems I’m still incapable of doing something under 2000 words but it’s shorter than the last prompt so you know, I’m getting there. 

As the prompt suggests, this fic will go into detail about very serious subjects around mental health, including depression and suicide. Please proceed with caution if these are sensitive subjects for you. 

Please also note that the symptoms and actions taken within the story are not a guide or diagnosis tool and should be interpreted as strictly fictional. Please refer to official literature such as those offered by the National Suicide Prevention Hotline (US) and other verified sources for what you should do if you believe someone you know is suffering from suicidal thoughts.

Written for @stephenstrangebingo square, “It’s Not About You”.

—————–

Every employee at Metro-General took the confidentiality of their patients’ conditions seriously. There was no doctor or nurse on staff that could be bribed to leak any celebrity’s medical information; they were known for having some of the best doctors for a reason. Many of the elite of New York went to that hospital in the middle of Midtown for that famous discretion.

There was, however, one glaring exception to this rule that every nurse and doctor learned early on: if one of their co-workers had something very serious happen to them, their status would eventually leak out to the rest of the staff. There was never anything particularly hostile about the whispers, and while curiosity was the biggest fuel to the information train, news tended to spread out from concern rather than scorn. This trend even applied to staff members that were generally seen as assholes.

Doctor Nicodemus West learned this during his next shift. A couple minutes after entering his office, just as he was getting into his email inbox, a quick knock at the open door broke his concentration. He looked up and smiled. “Morning, Alyssa.”

The nurse offered a brief smile in greeting, but stepped inside and closed the door before speaking. “Did you hear the news?” she asked softly; her smile was gone.

His brow furrowed. “I’m sorry, news?”

“Doctor Strange was admitted to the ER last night.”

His mind came to a screeching halt. “What? Seriously?” He generally avoided the man if he could, though from what was going around the gossip circles the last couple weeks, Strange was still a raging asshole, but in good health. “What happened?”

Alyssa shook her head. “I don’t know all the details, but he had to get his stomach pumped.”

Nick winced in sympathy; that was not a pleasant experience. “Jeez,” he muttered. “Is he doing okay?”

“Last I heard, he’s stable,” she answered. “Apparently Doctor Palmer’s still his emergency contact, though.”

“She would be anyone’s emergency contact; she’s too good of a person,” he replied in return. “Thanks for letting me know, though; I suspect others in the department may need to take some of his patients that can’t wait for him.”

Alyssa nodded. “The administration is already looking through his cases, though I expect he’ll be up and back at work as soon as he can. Doctor Strange is never really one for breaks.”

“I suppose not,” said Nick. The conversation turned to other topics and the neurosurgeon put the matter with Strange in the back of his mind, left as generally unimportant in the grand scheme of his life.

————— 

Strange got back to work and things got back to normal in the neurology department.

Only thing was, Nick started noticing things.

While Doctor West was no prodigy like Doctor Strange, he would not have the ability to become a neurosurgeon without the ability to notice details. It was the details in life— in the human body in particular— that fascinated him and turned him towards medicine in the first place. No, he wasn’t a prodigy, but he was still damn good at his job.

So when Strange came back to the office a few days after his visit to the ER, Nick decided to break his usual policy of avoiding Strange as much as humanly possible and went to his office to welcome him back. It was good for department morale to act mostly cordial to each other, even if most of the effort was on his part.

The door was open and Strange was still in his outer coat, back to him, when Nick knocked on the doorway. The doctor turned to face him and Nick raised a hand in greeting. “Hey. Just wanted to say welcome back.”

Strange’s brow furrowed and he made a rather weird expression. “Oh… uh, thanks.” He turned to the coat rack in the corner of the room and began to remove his outerwear.

“How’re you…” Nick started, but paused as the coat was fully removed, revealing Strange’s dress shirt underneath. It hung rather loosely on his figure; apparently the man had lost some weight recently. Due to Christine Palmer’s honeymoon phase about two years ago, Nick was more aware than he would prefer to be about how ‘fit’ Doctor Stephen Strange was (which really was unfair).

It seemed that wasn’t the case anymore. When had that happened?

Strange didn’t seem to notice his trailing off. “I’m fine. Perfectly alright, thank you. I hope you didn’t botch any of my surgeries while I was gone.”

And there was the asshole he remembered. Nick pressed his lips together. “All your patients are recovering without setback. You can even see them for yourself.” He did his best to cut back the bite of sarcasm in his last sentence.

If Strange heard it, he didn’t comment on it. “I’ll let the nurses handle it. Now if you’ll excuse me, I do have a lot of emails to catch up on. Close the door behind you, if you would.”

Nick rolled his eyes and shut the door as he left the office, but the detail seen settled in the back of his mind to remain quiet, but not forgotten.

And with that one thing noticed, he started to notice more things as the weeks passed on.

According to Alyssa, Strange was rarely seen in the hospital cafeteria anymore— one of the cafeteria staff  members who had an open crush on the doctor was complaining about it, apparently.

Strange was having bouts of insomnia, according to gossiping security personnel. There were times that doctors did not go home for the night, but his were becoming more consistent occurrences.

As Nick ate with members from both his usual surgical team and Strange’s surgical team one lunch time a few weeks after Strange came back to work, the topic somehow went to Strange and his uncanny recollection for music, no matter the genre or decade it was released. It was well known that he liked to have the others on his team try and challenge him with their song choices while he was performing his operations.

“Not anymore,” said Billy, and Alyssa frowned at him.

“What? But that’s his gig! He’s been doing that for years.”

Billy shrugged. “He hasn’t been doing it for a few months now. He’s told us he doesn’t care what we want to play, but he doesn’t guess at songs anymore. Doesn’t give any recommendations, either. It sort of sucks; my music library has barely expanded this year.”

“Maybe you need to find something really challenging, a song so obscure that he’ll be drawn into it again,” she said. “I wonder how well he knows Jamaican music.”

“We tried British and Australian Top Hits of the ‘80s last year, but we haven’t done Jamaica. Do Jamaicans generally speak English? He hasn’t memorized songs from every language in the world.”

She rolled her eyes, and as Alyssa started explaining the history of Jamaica and Jamaican Creole, Nick stored this new bit of information away in the section of his brain that, somehow, had become dedicated to collecting all these tidbits.

And Nick noticed that every time he bumped into the other neurosurgeon in the hall, he appeared exhausted. Nick did not know if anyone else noticed the clear loss of weight and the dark bags around his eyes, but they were blindingly obvious to him. 

Usually Strange moved with an endless amount of energy when off to surgery, and with some of the more challenging surgeries the energy stayed with him no matter how long the procedure took. It was an exuberance that even he admired, though it was never something he planned to admit to Strange. But now the energy was missing. He was still snarky and aloof, but the spark of genuine joy that was once clear to everyone in the department was gone.

If Strange was a friend, he would have acted weeks ago. If Strange was a colleague he got along with, he would have waited no longer than a month, just to make sure. But two months after his short medical hiatus and Nick remained uncertain, because this was Stephen Strange. Surely no one as big-headed and arrogant as he could ever actually be— yes, there were some signs, but it just seemed too far-fetched. Surely not.

A couple weeks later and some of the doctors from neurosurgery, some from cardiology, and some from the ER were having a rare lunch together. Somehow Christine Palmer had managed to drag Strange out of his office to see his coworkers. And somehow he ended up sitting next to Strange, though the man was mostly quiet as he took the occasional bite from his salad. That in itself was very unusual, as Nick was used to Strange enjoying all the attention of the room.

The conversation turned to a sudden, inexplicable death that happened just yesterday that the hospital was still trying to solve. As theories went around the table, Nick heard Strange mutter under his breath, “Maybe she just realized life wasn’t worth living.” None of the others heard it. Nick pretended he didn’t, either.

But the comment resonated in his head for the rest of the day.

———— 

This was not going to be comfortable. This was not going to be easy. Nick hated that he, of all people, had noticed. Had no one else seen it?

It only took another day to push his discomfort aside. “It’s not about you,” he mumbled to himself in the mirror in the early morning. “Strange needs help.” And he was a doctor, first and foremost. And doctors helped people in need.

He wanted to speak with Strange outside the hospital, in a neutral place for them both. The only problem was that he never saw the man outside of work and he had no idea how to approach him.

The opportunity came a few days later when Nick was already performing surgery while on call. Another emergency craniotomy was required and Strange stepped in at Christine’s request while Nick was unavailable. It was as good a reason as any.

“Thank you for taking that patient yesterday,” he said in greeting the next morning.

Strange looked up from his computer, surprise crossing his features. He looked tired. “No surgeon can be in two surgeries at once,” he said with a shrug.

“Still, I appreciate it,” Nick said. “I know you’re not fond of the ER.”

“A butcher shop.”

He ignored the comment. “So I’d like to thank you. You free after work? Dinner’s on me.”

The other man stared at him. “You want to have dinner,” he said flatly.

“As colleagues,” he added, hopefully unnecessarily, because really? “I’m trying to be nice and show my appreciation, Strange. Don’t be an ass about it and just say yes.”

Strange lifted his brows high, but the fuel to his ego did the trick. “Yeah, sure. Got any place in mind?”

Nick shrugged. “There’s a good Italian place three blocks south of us.”

“Italian’s fine.”

“Cool. See you later.” He ignored the expression on Strange’s face and took his leave.

—————

The walk from the hospital to the restaurant was a bit of an uncomfortable one, but Nick wasn’t certain if it was mostly one-sided or not; Strange was more or less expressionless. He only tried to instigate conversation once throughout the walk, but it trailed off to silence before they reached the second block, so Nick decided then to save all attempts at conversation for dinner.

It was going to be hard enough then.

After they arrived and were seated, he also decided to wait until they had finished eating before approaching the topic. Maybe the food would relax the nerves in his gut.

So in the meantime he talked shop. It had been some time since either of them had discussed their cases with each other, so he figured that it was a safe enough conversation topic until the end of the meal.

Unfortunately Strange, bastard that he was, threw him off his planned course. It was just after they ordered food; both had a glass of wine and their waiter had already set down a basket of bread and a saucer of olive oil for dipping. Strange caught Nick as the latter was ripping off a piece of bread to smother in the dipping oil.

“What is this really about?” he asked.

Nick paused mid-dip. “What?”

“All this.” He waved an arm to gesture to the restaurant. “I’ve helped in the ER several times when your hands were full. What is this actually about?”

He set his bread on his plate, frowning. “You can’t wait until after we eat?”

Strange raised a brow. “Consider yourself fortunate I said yes to this at all. I only came because, admittedly, I’m curious; I cannot begin to guess what you could possibly want to talk to me about outside of work.”

“Fine, fine.” Nick sighed and set his elbows on the table. He pressed his lips against his closed fists as he figured out how to start. All the while, Strange stared at him with an odd mix of exasperation and puzzlement. “You…” he started slowly. He trailed off.

“Me,” said Strange.

Fuck it. “You’ve been off lately.”

His brows shot up. “Off?”

“Yeah, off. Not yourself. Different.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means exactly that. You’re acting differently lately. For a while, apparently.”

He bristled in clear irritation. “If you’re just going to waste my time—”

“You don’t enjoy your work anymore.”

That shut him up. Nick continued in the silence. “You used to always enter and exit your operations with this excitement that echoed down the halls. That’s completely gone.”

Strange recovered his voice. “If you’re implying that my work has suffered—”

“No, no,” he interrupted. “Not at all. This isn’t about the quality of your work; this is about you.” Strange didn’t have an immediate retort to that, so Nick continued, “Or maybe it’s not about you but about this man that’s taken over you the last several months. That man is clearly not eating and sleeping well, barely comes out of his office, hasn’t bragged about his newest studies and speeches in months, and mutters about life not being worth living at lunchtime.”

His colleague’s mouth hung slightly open as if he wanted to say something but had forgotten how to speak. Nick couldn’t quite read the emotion in his eyes, either. Before he completely lost his nerve, he said one last observation. “And that man,” he muttered, “had his stomach pumped two months ago, and those circumstances combined with the rest paint a picture of a man who… might be a bit lost.”

Something raw flashed through Strange’s eyes that made him appear more vulnerable than Nick’s ever seen him before. That brought on a strange and discomforting feeling that joined the rest of the jumbled nerves in his stomach.

Quickly he continued, “You don’t need to tell me anything. I’m not demanding anything from you. I just wanted to say that— no matter what differences we have— that if you do need someone for— for anything— that I’m here. Even if it’s just to listen.”

He fell silent, and still Strange didn’t say anything immediately, which was unusual in itself. Nick wasn’t sure if he should continue looking at him or if he should look away, or what.

And thank God, dinner arrived and gave him the perfect reason to look away and leave Strange to his thoughts.

The silence sat for the remainder of the meal. Strange didn’t eat much (though he couldn’t blame him) but also didn’t leave. Nick didn’t know what that meant, or if it meant anything at all.

Still, he had one last thing to say.

After he paid the bill, he pulled a card from his wallet as he stood up. “She came with high recommendations,” he said as he put down the card of a therapist that most certainly did not work at Metro-General. “Think about it.” With that, he took his leave, allowing Strange time alone to dwell on what he said.

————

When they next saw each other at work, neither of them made any indication to each other that they had dinner last night. Their last conversation never crossed the threshold of the hospital. Strange never called him, and Nick never inquired about his well being more than he did any other coworker.

But a few months later, when he got word that Strange was starting his music challenge games in his operations once more, Nick allowed himself a small smile at the news.

[canonicallyanxious]

fake fic titles??? a thing you're doing??? "ceecee's dungeon" for evak. (no i'm jk how about "when i needed you" bc of my girl crj) (also i love you)

APPARENTLY there’s a lot of things i’m trying to catch up on rn aksjndaskdna but ily

first of all i appreciate you actually providing a song because this makes this a thousand million times easier 

second the second verse is reminding me so much of sideways and slantways it’s actually making my heart ache lol 

THIRD THE ACTUAL FIC IDEA so i know the song points more toward a break-up fic but because i am literally incapable of writing something like that at some point i will instead go the route of, they found each other and there were sparks, and maybe they had to part ways before it could really go anywhere but Even gave Isak his number like by writing it on his hand or putting it on a piece of paper or something, but Isak loses it [i considered having it the other way around actually but i think between the two of them Isak is more likely to lose it, Even would fucking cherish those digits if he got them from Isak until the end of time he’d get them tattooed on his forehead] and then Isak tries desperately to find him again but he just knows Even’s first name and of course Even doesn’t have social media so??? how?????? [also clearly this means this fic has to be in Isak’s POV i know that isn’t terribly important but that’s usually one of the first things i figure out when i’m planning a fic but anyway] 

in the end after some ~plot shit~ [this isn’t a real fic so i don’t actually have to figure out the middle part lol] they do manage to find each other again at a party because between the balloon squad and Isak’s friends they were bound to run into each other eventually. instead of getting angry at Isak or something, Even is just utterly transfixed by Isak’s presence in his life again, they both are, in disbelief that they managed to find each other again, and they come together on the dance floor not really saying anything Even’s hands are on the skin of Isak’s waist under his shirt and Isak’s got his hands in Even’s hair and they kind of fell into that without really saying anything, and Even’s palms are sweaty against Isak’s skin but neither of their hands are shaking and they sway slowly to the music even though it’s loud and energetic with loads of 80′s synth in the background because i’m weak for pining dancing and Isak leans their foreheads together and whispers “I’ve got you now” 

anyway idk where i was going with this anymore so i’m just gonna stop here because i don’t even think i’m making any coherent sense anymore

send me a made-up fic title and i’ll tell you what i would write to go with it