#Obviously these things are so ingrained in me I still do them sometimes but the less I do the happier the I am

[sobeksewerrat]

refusing to engage in weird societal customs and shit is so freeing. like telling people I'm so happy they got me something instead of saying "you didn't have to" or accepting stuff from people instead of saying "no thank you" even though I REALLY want it?? Beautiful

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

So request kinda if not just sharing my thoughts in general.

Alex. My boy. What if reader is a civ or even another soldier in a different squad and the whole thing with him joining Farah’s forces indefinitely. I think this can really lend itself to some angst and that good old misunderstanding. Kinda leaning towards civ!reader just because the more miscommunication. I guess it’d have to be an angsty ending though 😳, but regardless-

Love your writing and, as always, feel free to change anything or do whatever gives you the most inspiration

World Caves In

PAIRING: Alex Keller x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: Perhaps it would have been better if your husband had died - at the very least you could understand that.

WORD COUNT: 7.9k

WARNINGS: Angst, misunderstandings/miscommunication, hurt/comfort, vulgar language, abandonment?, Alex being an adorable husband, fluff, etc.

A/N: I was gonna make this an angsty ending but I got my period and thinking about that made me cry so here we are, lmao. Enjoy, Anon!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

When you’d been escorted out of work by two uniformed men, you knew the news wasn’t going to be good. Sitting in the back of a large black car, you spare nervous glances as the vehicle jumps, its wheels going over the last speed bump. Your work building begins to become a fraction of a memory and disappears faster than your resolve. 

The men sit on either side of you, silent, and the only comment is to the driver as you all enter the main road. Swallowing, you part your lips and mutter, plain dread in your tone, “Is he alive?”

All you get is a glance from the front mirror and nothing more. You hunch more in your seat and stew in agony, mind far off on the topic of your husband. 

Alex wasn’t overly reckless, you’d managed to snuff most of that out over the course of the many years you’d expressed concern to him about it, but a large chuck of the blond was still too selfless for his own good. It was hard not to think the worst. 

From training to advising, your husband was always off on one mission to another, far from your quaint and quiet home here—where you waited day after day for even a sliver of contact from him. Alex specialized in so many things that trying to wrap your head around it was impossible.

Even now, you only knew the bare minimum. 

The soft-smiled man worked in the SAD division of the CIA. He’s an Operations Officer. Currently, he’s somewhere across the globe. 

Away from you.

Thinning your lips, you take down a deep breath and settle back into the seat, pulse flying. The men were obviously Agents—you’d looked closely at their badges when they’d first shown their faces at the front desk and had kept within view of your work’s security cameras just in case this was a ruse. When you could find nothing out of the ordinary, you had tensely asked them what was happening. 

They would be holding his dog tags if he was dead, you had reasoned, desperately, a flag. 

It was frantic, the way you had thought that up; how could you not be like that? Alex was the light of your life! With him constantly putting his life on the line, it was inevitable for him to get hurt, sometimes seriously. It was ingrained into your mind the way you would help clean his wounds in the middle of the night when the pain woke him up with a grunt stuck in his throat. The way you would sit half-asleep in his lap and re-wrap bandages while he told you to go back to bed half-heartedly. His hands drifting over your warm skin like he was cascading his fingers up and down the spine of an old book.

You never listened. 

“It’s late, Bug, I can’t keep you up like this.” His drawl echoes in your ear as you rub a heavy palm into your eye. Alex’s hands are both on your hips, squeezing the flesh just below your tiny sleep shorts. You have him sitting on the floor, back resting on the wall and shirt discarded to the side only wearing loose gray sweatpants. A long cut up his left pec is the center of your blurry attention—a wet rag held as you dab at it. Blue eyes narrow at you. “I’m just fine with doing it myself, y’know.”

“You’re being stubborn again,” you utter, the soft light of the bathroom placed at half-capacity to at least try and keep some of the veil of sleep over your heads. “I told you to wake me up when you needed it cleaned.” Your skin brushes his and Alex shivers under you, sighing breathily. “And you’re not keeping me here—I’m helping.” 

A small flash of that full smile, mustache flinching up, “Well when you look so pretty sleepin’ I can’t just shake you awake and tell you to fix me up.” 

You take your free hand and pinch his nose, yawning as he grunts out chuckles. A delicate glance is thrown his way as the rag lowers from reddened skin. Like a butterfly's whisper, you study his face gently; reaching and cupping his cheek with your palm. 

Alex’s lids flutter, heavy weight falling into you as if waiting for this—lips pressing to your inner wrist in reverence. You hold back a tired giggle and feel the corner of his mouth pull up when he feels it.

“All that talk, and yet,” pressing a smooch to his forehead you take your hand back and hear the grumble he lets out after, “you still like it better when I’m the one that’s working on you.”

“Can’t complain too much,” he admits slowly as his head leans back to tap the wall, “my wife’s hands are way softer than mine.” 

Alex’s grip on your flesh tightens when you sipe away the last line of crimson from the wound, tattooed arms flexing. 

“Sorry,” you whisper, watching his eyes slightly awash with pain. “Got caught on a stitch.”

“Ah, well,” the blond sighs, shifting “I suppose I can forgive you.” 

Laughing quietly as the house settles, you shake your head and rest your forehead on his. 

“Such a saint,” your lips utter teasingly as Alex smiles wide, his hands moving higher to your waist. You lean into him, stealing his warmth as your tired eyes flutter; feeling his thumbs run circles over the flesh of your lower spine. 

A content breath escapes you.

“Go back to bed, Sweetheart,” Alex whispers, lips brushing yours like silk, the bristles of his facial hair tickling you. “I can do the rest, promise.”

“Know you can,” your mutterings are barely heard, but the man seems to register them, sea-glass gaze incredibly soft. He chuckles at your sleepiness, one hand leaving your waist to capture the back of your head; weaving into your hair and gently massaging your scalp. You practically melt into him, limbs going slack, slurring out, “Quit it. Wanna help, Alex.”

His laughter shakes you, and with a huff escaping, you bury your burning face into his neck and lean into him, careful of his wound even in your fatigued state. 

“No offense, Bug,” Alex shifts, grunting as he easily maneuvers you until you’re laying in his arms, inked forearms under your knees and behind your shoulders with vivid images of grim reapers, snakes, and angels guarding you close. A kiss is firmly pressed to your forehead as the blonde smirks downwards, “But you’re about as helpful to me right now as an empty mag.”

You grumble, trying to disappear into his skin and letting him dig his stubble into your cheek. 

“If you bring me back to bed before you’re done,” you yawn and close your eyes, “I’m divorcing you.”

He laughs deeply into your ear, body shaking as he pulls back and sends you an incredulous look. 

“Hell, we can’t have that, can we, Mrs. Keller? I’d lose my damn mind.” 

It’s a long drive, and you worry through the entirety of it. A primal, whole-body-shaking type of fear. You’d built a life with Alex and loved him more than anything or anyone that had come before. Even if he was gone a lot, that had never dulled what the two of you had—your marriage was nothing short of something you would find in a fairy tale; flashing pictures on pages with vivid colors and tender glances. The very cover itself is made of the finest leather and inlaid with gold calligraphy. 

Please, Alex, you plead in your head as you remember his loving gaze—his back as he makes supper in the kitchen and hums to himself. Please be okay.

The men hold open the car door when it comes to a stop outside a very obviously abandoned apartment complex near the outskirts of town. You get out quickly. Looking around, you take in the overgrown grass and the broken concrete with a knife in your lung; holding back the flood of anxious tears. 

Though, confusion takes president. 

“Where did you…?” You turn to look at the Agents, but they’re already clambering back into their car and snapping the doors shut. Wide-eyed and slack-jawed you watch them speed off as a cloud of dust drifts into the air. 

Pulse echoing in your ears, you watch the vehicle speed down the road and disappear. 

Swallowing, you whisper, “What the actual fuck?” Turning in circles, no one else is around. A part of you starts to worry less for Alex and more for yourself.

They were CIA, you reiterate, I checked their badges—Alex showed me the standard ones. Could I have missed something? 

Expression nervous, you shift on your feet before your stuttering legs take you closer to the abandoned building, not really seeing much choice here. You could imagine the scene from The Wizard Of Oz—when the man pulls back the curtain and all is revealed. 

That said, you could really only hope that was what was actually happening to you and you weren't getting kidnapped or shot. Taking a deep breath, you clench your fists and enter the building through the open front door. 

It was in the wide lobby that you locked eyes with Kate Laswell. You blank, mouth parting as the scent of concrete and decaying furniture get stuck in your nose. 

The woman seems highly agitated, brows tight and jaw clenched. Her white blouse had been flattened multiple times by rough hands, lanyard swaying on her neck like Alex’s dog tags would. She holds a file in her hands; the paper bulky as if holding something more than just paper inside its manila clutches.

“Kate?” You ask, confused, “What are you doing here? What’s all of this about?” Taking quick steps forward you splay your hands as your voice grows more serious. “Where’s my damn husband?” 

You didn’t know Laswell personally, in fact, when you had first got a glimpse of her here, you’d forgotten the older woman’s name for a moment. The first meeting between the two of you had been at a CIA get-together that Alex had been forced to go to because of his position—some celebration because a group of ICBMs had been taken back into US hands after being stolen. Your husband had introduced you to the Station Chief over a drink with a hand on the small of your back.

But it didn’t stop you now from talking to her like you’d known her for years. Not when fear was flooding your veins.

“What the hell is going on?” You say harshly, glancing around the room for any sight of someone else here. 

Kate sighs heavily but wastes no time in speaking, her professional tone and serious face leaving your already fast-paced heart racing.

“Alex isn’t coming back to the United States.” Your eyes blank, staring into icy blue. She holds out her manila folder, jaw tight. Blunt. “He’s a deserter.” 

It’s like your entire being halts; your skin suit feels as if it’s sagging on your bones with the weight of a cinder block connected by hooks to the floor. 

What did she just say?

Opening and closing your mouth you stutter, lids blinking rapidly. 

“I…” Fingers flinching in the air, an exhalation from your nose sounds more like a wheeze. Kate watches stiffly, taking a look at the floor before returning her attention to you; emotion flashes in her eyes. “...W-what?”

“Keller deserted his post—I tried to speak with the Colonel but there’s only so much I can do.” Laswell takes a deep breath as you continue to go through shock. Alex wasn’t coming home? How, why? “He’s staying in Urzikstan to fight with the Liberation Force.”

“Urzikstan?!” You gape, but the woman continues. 

“For all intents and purposes, I shouldn’t be here, but Alex asked me personally to hand these to you.” Again the manilla folder is shown to you, but when you only glare and fight the fear and confusion rampaging in your gut a sigh echoes out and it’s placed on a termite-eaten side table. “Even communicating with you could put you in danger now that he’s gotten on the bad side of the entire SAD and CIA branches. This is all I can do.”

“What the fuck,” you whisper to yourself, hand coming up to capture your mouth. 

“If Alex re-enters the states—he’ll be arrested and tried in a court of law. If he’s not shot on sight for what he knows.” Kate watches you closely, shaking her head in pity. “I’m sorry,” there’s a strained pause, “but he’s made his decision.” 

As she brushes past you, leaving the folder on the side table, you feel your wide eyes well with tears—confused and horrified. But he’s coming back to me, right? Alex…Alex wouldn’t leave me here alone.

It was common knowledge that over the last years the blond had gotten more agitated at his line of work; the orders that he didn’t want to follow but had no choice. No voice. But he can’t just abandon you...could he? You’d taken vows. Had a happy marriage and relationship. Loved each other.

He can’t just…he can’t…

Your hands shake and you’re unable to stop them, gaze locked on that unassuming manilla folder. Kate pauses in the doorway, peeking back and seeing your sickly-looking face, the agony written in the lines of your forehead. Like the picture of a loyal wife being told her husband was never coming home. And Alex wasn’t even dead. Resentment begins to burn. 

But he made his bed. 

“He told me to tell you that he wouldn’t be angry if you wanted to leave him,” was all she said, a final knife being stabbed into your heart and being ripped out like a live wire. Electricity makes your back go stiff in an instant. “It would be best to never tell anyone that we met.” 

You were alone, full body shivers and bile stuck in the back of your throat. Cold sweat coats your palms, a sticky mess of your barebones disturbance. 

“He…” your voice is hoarse, bouncing off the far walls. “Alex left me here? He left me.”

It was easier to say that the sun had exploded and you were waiting for the last beam of light to incinerate you. Inside of your skull your brain pounds as, in a mad dash of desperation, you rush to the manilla folder and rip it open with vibrating arms.

Having Laswell tell you that Alex wouldn’t be mad if you…if you…the hairs on the back of your neck rise and suddenly you’re angry beyond a sliver of a doubt. It was insulting.

“Alex fucking Keller,” the paper opens to the bulk of your husband's dog tags and a flip phone—reports like his own personal file and the patch that he had once worn so proudly on his combat vest. Red, white, and blue dig into your retinas; it was old, worn beyond measure, but that little patch was something that was never removed. Not even to be cleaned. 

“The dirtier it is,” Alex had commented on the American flag patch when you’d offered to mend it for him, cringing at all the blood stains and dirt flecking off it as he slipped his vest off in the foyer of your home. “The luckier I am.” 

“I think the stench of it alone will frighten off anyone who comes near,” you had raised a brow, smirking up at him as he walked over, laughing. A kiss is placed on your lips, Alex’s bright smile transferring over to you as if able to spread from his mouth to yours that simply. You sigh dreamily. 

He pulls back with a tiny wink as you gaze up at him, cheekily stating, “That’s the plan, Sweet Thing. Gotta make sure I come home to you in one piece.”

You brush your hands over it and think that maybe it would have been better if he had died. Then you could understand why he’s doing this to you. Anger spreads into rage. 

Looking next at the phone and dog tags, all you do is shake your head and slam the folder shut, bitter tears tracking your face. You can’t read anything—can’t see his name imprinted on that metal that used to press coldly into your skin as you both slept in bed. You don’t care about the phone or the files. 

None of it mattered.

“He fucking left me here,” it’s like you’re a broken record replaying over and over again. “You absolute bastard, Keller!” Yelling, you press your fingers into your face, hands spreading over your eyes and mouth to muffle your enraged sobs. 

“You’re still alive and you left me alone.” 

Only the abandoned building echoes your pain; replaying it back over and over again as your wails echo around the lobby like a symphony of laughing jesters. 

—

The phone that Laswell had given you had been going off at least three times every day—morning, noon, and at night. You had stared at it with fury, knowing exactly who was calling even if the thing was displaying an unknown number. By now you had steeped in your anger enough that you had found yourself snapping at friends and family alike when asked if you were alright. 

You wished Alex was here so you could hit him upside the head for being so stupid. So you could hate him until you had the pleasure to love him again.

Urzikstan. 

You’d looked up the country after you had spent two days straight in bed, afterward manically cleaning the house with a glare that could light fires. The far-off place was a land utterly divided by war. Russian occupation, a terrorist group; the force that your husband had joined. Mass against mass against mass.

Brick meets wall.

And Alex had chosen to stay—without a doubt because he’d seen the dire situation and had used that damnable good heart of his to empathize to the max. Forget donations, humanitarian work, or anything else, the man had fucking decided to join in a Liberation Force. 

As much as you wanted to say you hated him; had wanted to slam your gold wedding band to the table with a good riddance for betraying you like that…you still had his dog tags around your neck, and the ring was still on your finger. 

“Too good for his own sake,” you grumble, shoving dirty clothes into the washer like they had tried to attack you. “Deserted the fucking CIA, Jesus Alex. Do you even think when I’m not around?” 

There were only so many times you could curse his name until you felt a deceiving needle of pride slither itself into your skull. You could describe Alex as many things but he would always be steadfast in causes that truly needed his help. He often told you that the best missions were the ones where he could do so much more than take out a target—he strived to help the individuals he met. Form bonds. 

God forbid something came in between the blond and the ones he’d chosen to give his loyalty to.

You slam the washer shut and stomp into the living room after starting another cycle. Stress cleaning was really not a good look on you—the entire house was without a single spec of dust but you yourself felt like you’d run seven marathons. Clenching your teeth, you go and drop to the couch, a grunt falling from your lips as your head hits the pillow.

Staring at the ceiling, you finally take in the utter silence of the house—not a home, because it could only be that if Alex was here—with a pained crease forming on your brow. The pipes spit water, and the washer grunted its mechanical garble…but there was no humming man making food in the kitchen. No blond hair visible as a head rests on your chest; your fingers playing in the locks that act like silk as you part them, the man on top of you purring. Body a weighted blanket.

“Was it really that easy,” you whisper to nothing, lip quivering. “Was it really that easy to stay away, Alex? I thought…I…” 

Eyes wrenching shut, you hear the phone right at noon again as it sits on the coffee table. And you let it. 

There were voicemails, no doubt, but you hadn’t thought to listen to those either. This small act of rebellion was all you could act on but for the simple fact that it also harmed you. Barbed wire steadily digging deeper as it kept your hands wound to your sides—neck plastered to the pillow as bright silver spikes glinted. You stare at the unknown caller who really wasn’t all that unknown and watch the screen light, vibrating over the wood in steady intervals. 

What hurt the most was that if he’d asked you to come along—become an Expat just for him—you would have said yes. You could find a new job, a new place to call home. Humanitarian work would have been at the top of your list and Alex…well….he would still be fighting, just as he always had. 

But at the very least you would have been there to clean his wounds. Together. You’d both promised on that altar to do nothing less. He could’ve asked. He should have asked. 

Alex…

“Urzikstan,” you mutter for what seems like the fiftieth time. When the ringing stops a few moments later the new voicemail icon flashes. Placing your arm over your mouth, you clench your hand so tight it starts to shake, whispering into your skin, “Fine. I guess you did make your bed. And…and I won't be there to lie in it with you.” No matter how much I want to.

You slip the wedding band off of your finger and place it beside the phone before turning and burying your head into the cushions; feeling more numb than you ever had before.

—

It carried on like this for three months. The ring didn’t move from the coffee table and neither did the flip phone; the file had all but been tossed in the trash as it sat teetering on the living room desk. You carried on as well as you could, all things considered. 

Work was a blur, going out with friends even harder to enjoy, and any enjoyment of hobbies or activities was dulled to an almost gray existence. Like a ghost, you wafted through experiences with dog tags and a withering appearance. Eventually, you just stopped going out unless it couldn’t be helped. You still bought meals for two at the grocery store out of habit. You placed blankets where Alex used to sleep beside you. You went to work. 

And still, the calls never stopped except for a brief pause after the first month. You’d thought he’d finally given up, but no. Back at it.

It had gotten to a point now where the device was automatically deleting all recent voicemails—too little space in the inbox. 

Angry curiosity was tempting you. It would be easy, you reason, to simply play the first message and listen. The worst part of it was that you’d begun to forget Alex’s voice and perhaps that was why, on that dead-aired Saturday, you snatched the phone and brought it into the kitchen. 

Firmly planting it on the counter, you stand behind one of the island chairs and glare, hands tapping into the wood. 

“I’m giving you three minutes, Alex,” you speak as if he’s still here, as if his form stands right behind you, head tilted like a damn dog with that infectious smile and those sea-glass eyes. “Three minutes,” your fingers snap the device open and you go to your voicemails; jaw tight, “and if you don’t hear you groveling, Keller, I’m deleting all of them and chucking this phone into the sink.” 

You go down the line to the very first message, small buttons clicking, and before you can stop yourself you press play.

It begins with a small moment of silence. A cough. 

“Hey,” he says your first name, not one of your epithets. Your brows deepen their annoyed furrow, but you can’t help the uptick in your heart rate. Inside your flesh, the sinews of your throat close in on itself like a balloon. “I…I’m guessin’ I have a good enough ass-kicking waiting for me since you didn’t answer.” A strained laugh before another pause. You feel acidic tears boil behind your lids. “I’m not surprised—not really. Done some stupid things but never something like this.” You can hear him shake his head, voice going lower in defiance. “But they were asking me to leave Urzikstan in a worse place than when I entered it. This Liberation Force, Bug, it…they’re good people and what they’re asking me to do…” Alex huffs, growling under his throat. “I can’t stand by that. The man you chose to marry, he can’t stand by that. They need me here. I’m not asking you to not be angry—to not hate me for this. I know I damn well deserve it.”

You let your tears hit the counter, head slightly bowing over. That was your Alex. 

“You need a leash,” your strained voice hits the walls, bouncing off picture frames and your husband's cooking utensils. The small pieces that make up the whole picture frame of your life. “God,” you huff wetly, “you’re going to get yourself killed.”

“I know I should have talked to you first, figured out some plan. But, uh,” Alex’s throat gets choked up, and you snap a hand to your mouth when you realize he’s close to tears. He clears his throat. “Hell, I should have done a lot of things, Sweetheart.” 

You can hear shouts in the background, calls in Arabic. The pounding of a door and a woman’s voice.

“Alex, we need to move! Everyone is ready—Barkov’s lab cannot be left standing a moment longer.” The hurried hand to the line muffles the words, but you hear him anyway.

“Affirmative!” He comes back. “I don’t have time to explain more, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for… everything. I’d understand if you don’t use the passport Laswell’ll give you, but that doesn’t mean I’m just going to stop calling.” Alex laughs and your face freezes.

“Passport?”

“What kind of Husband would I be if I just let the most perfect woman in the world go without a fight, huh? I’ll be waiting until you call to tell me to shut the hell up and leave you alone or that you’re down in the airport waiting.” There’s a large sound of combat vests being clicked on—pistols being situated into holsters and a rifle strap slipped over a chest. Alex suddenly pauses and you stare at the phone blankly. “I know this is a big ask, Doll, and I know I’m horrible for even springin’ this on you when I’m half a world away from our bed. But I had to try, even if it was selfish. I just…I just really need to hear your voice telling me if I’m an idiot or not for thinking this up. Call me back soon…or when you run out of my clothes to burn in the firepit out back…I love you, okay? More…more than anything.” 

There’s a minute or two of nothing, just Alex’s ragged breathing, and then there’s an older man’s voice ordering him to hurry up. The line clicks. 

Your ears ring as it does, wide eyes dripping tears from your bottom lashes as your lungs chill over. Hand slowly flinching out, you ghost over the keys before clicking on the following voicemail. As it plays, your feet start to take you backward at a snail's pace, your spine flattering against the wall as blood drains to your feet. 

“Hey, it’s me again. I still haven’t heard from you—that’s alright. Take your time.” Steadying yourself with a hand, you look out of the kitchen and get a glimpse of the manila folder on the desk, its tan hide sucking you in. Pulse in your throat, you rush out to grab it as Alex’s voice echoes. “I know Laswell gave you the file, I trust her that much at least.” A sigh. “But even if it’s just to yell at me, please pick up the phone soon. Let me save some of my dignity and give me a chance to beg on an open line, huh, Sweetheart…? But I guess that’s all—gotta go. I love you.” 

You don’t play the next message because you’re ripping open the file with rabid hands, seeing exactly as you had when Laswell left it for you. Alex’s mission report; his patch. The dog tags around your neck clink together like a song, some brutal rhythm. 

“Passport?” Grasping the mission report you pick it up, flipping through the multiple pages of blacked-out words and more confused than ever. “Airport?” 

The words come out as whimpers, hands so shaky that the pages slip from your fingers. They slam to the floor in a flurry of bond paper and you curse loudly, snatching for the remnants futilely. Grasping on your hands and knees hitches build in your breath as your fingers dance rapidly before they slip across something distinctly not paper. 

Small, tiny, and blue. Laminate. 

Your very blood seems to stop in your veins. Pushing back one last piece of paper, you come face to face with a singular American passport. Gasping down mute breaths and licking your lips, you pick it up lightly, leaning back on your legs as if you’d just slammed your head into the concrete. 

“Alex…” you whisper to no one. 

Flipping the hard cover open, a small, palm-sized piece of paper slips out to your lap as your own face stares at you in image form. You blink for a moment before going to take the note and separate the ends. Formal script is inside, stiff lettering. Not your husband's handwriting, but you didn’t have to guess who’d written out these directions for you. 

Laswell.

There was a destination in fountain pen ink—an airport near the Urzikstanian and Georgian border. Seeing as Urzikstan was on the travel-ban list due to the turbulence of the government and terrorist threats, you wouldn’t be able to get there directly. 

But you supposed Kate had your back for that too. 

Georgian safehouse - wait for Keller there. It’s secure. More directions and then a small gap. A pause. Good luck.

You don’t know how long you stare at that paper—that passport. The first thing you think about is how could Alex ask you to do this. Uproot yourself with the snap of a finger. You wouldn’t be able to bring anything beyond what could fit in a few suitcases. No furniture, no large amount of clothes, or even sentimental items. You’d have to quit your job; leave behind family and friends to travel to a war-torn country.

But he’d said it was your choice, and he wouldn’t push you to make it. He’d said you could leave him if you wanted—keep all of this that you’d built here.

…But you’d built it together, hadn’t you? 

You think of Alex’s bright smile and his mustache. His tattoos. How he’d hold you so tight in the long hours of sleep that you half-believed he thought you’d disappear if he didn’t; nuzzling his nose into the back of your head and grumbling out nonsense. The way you could trace his scars and watch as he willingly submitted to your praise, delicate lips curving into sheepish grins as you place soft kisses on the raised skin. Red cheeks.

This place wasn’t a home without Alex in it.

You look over at the coffee table and lock onto the gold of your wedding band.

—

Getting into Georgia was a long affair of paperwork and screenings—not days but months of legal jargon that Alex had dodged entirely because of his desertion. By the time you’d landed in country, you were wholly exhausted down to the very marrow of your bones. You get through the checkpoints, pick up your bags, and look out at the entirely new world outside of the airport’s windows. 

“Okay,” you swallow saliva and nod carefully before looking down at Laswell’s directions to the safehouse. 

You slip the paper into your pocket after memorizing the address, tips of your fingers brushing the smooth surface of the flip phone. Clenching your eyes shut, you take your hand back out and go to try and hire a driver. You were here, but that doesn’t mean all of this was forgiven. 

After you find someone able to drive you to where you need to go, you end up standing with a quaint hostel ahead of you, home far behind. Gazing slightly nervous at the strange place you’ve found yourself, you think of Alex’s hand on the small of your back and sigh; caressing the cool metal of the ring around your finger. 

Walking forward, you hitch your bags over your shoulders and grit your teeth against the hot sun. When you meet the owner at the front desk you state your name and ask for a bed. 

The man’s eyes widen for a moment before he looks at something on his countertop, raising a brow in thought. Grabbing at a stack of papers he holds up a finger and begins digging. Too tired and overwhelmed to ask what was wrong, you just watch and rub at your face. 

“Ah,” the man snaps his fingers and laughs to himself, “here it is! I knew I had placed the note somewhere, Mrs. Keller.” You blink, confused, but the man just takes a key from the wall and motions for you to follow. Sparing a glance around for a moment, you slowly slink after, not really having a choice.

“I remember your Husband coming to me—the blond with the tattoos.” The owner looks back, making sure you’re following. He motions to his right side with splayed fingers. “Scars on the side of his head, to reserve a room.”  

Alex was here? How much had he done already pertaining to the chance that you would show up? 

“Y-yeah,” you chuckle stiffly, “that was him. Sorry for being so long I was…preoccupied.”

“You’re lucky he kept up on payments,” the man grumbles, opening a door with the key and motioning you inside. “My pleasure to finally have you, regardless.”

Entering the small and sparse room, you take the key from him with a thankful smile and a quick thank you before he closes the door. As the barrier thuds, you sway on your feet. Blinking. Breathing hard. You drop all of your bags with a heavy thump that echoes off the walls in a single instant. Heart pounding at everything that was striking you in an instant, you walk slowly back to the bed. You don’t bother to take a shower or brush your teeth; even change. 

You fall down on the mattress and pray you don’t have to dream about Alex sending money to this place every week simply on a suffocating hope that you’d come back to him. You pray you don’t dream at all. 

The phone wakes you up only thirty minutes later.

Groaning, you shift your body so your hand can snake into your pocket, grasping it and tossing it to the pillow beside your head. You’d never made it through all of the voicemails without crying, so you just deleted all of them and let the inbox fill back up again. 

Feeling the dog tags press against your chest as you form your chest into the bed, you shove your head downward and listen to it ring. 

Bring-bring, bring-bring, bring-bring

It happens in a flurry of a sleep-addled mind and a horrible desperation to see your husband after nearly a full year of no contact. You flip it open and answer with your nose pressed deeply into the pillow below you. Ears straining and pulse running like a starving cat after a mouse. 

Dead silence. 

“...Sweetheart…?” It’s pitiful how fast the tears flood you at Alex’s shocked and tiny voice. Tight breathing sounds over the line from his end and your other hand digs into your scalp. A small, cut-off laugh. “Hey…I—” 

You hang up with a vicious slam of the screen and let the silence settle again. People walk the hall; the sun dims as night sets in. This isn’t home. Dropping the phone back down to the pillow you curl into a tight ball and cry yourself back to sleep.

If you had to guess, you’d say the small curse was what woke you for the second time, though you didn’t register it until minutes later. That muffled ‘shit’ as a foot hits your dropped bags near the door. But then it’s silent again and your ears only twitch to the gentle sigh that brushes against your face; a thumb and forefinger caressing your cheek as hair is placed back over your ear. 

Perhaps the only reason at all as to why you don’t wake up screaming bloody murder is because of his calluses. They burn your flesh as they slide over it—as ingrained into your very being as your own heart is. As if Alex’s touch was another organ that was needed to survive. More important than a liver or a spleen. 

When your eyes slip open he’s leaning back in a chair he had turned to face you, built form shifting as the rickety wood creaks. No more than five feet away sits your husband, and all you do is suck in a tight breath and lock gazes with soft sea glass. 

Alex freezes at the same time, strong brow line peeling back and mustache stiff as his lips immediately thin. You both stare for a good while, a thread of tension entering the air. The night deepens. 

He speaks first, in the dense hours of confrontation. Your heart feels like it’s been stuck with a spear, vignette at the sides of your vision, and a blooming center of only Alex’s body and his messy hair. The scarf around his neck. The combat vest. 

Had he driven all this way to see if you were here? Because you’d answered the phone? But you hadn’t even said anything. Your head stays on the pillow, wondering if you were hallucinating.

“Hey,” Alex forces a chuff before he glances away, nervous arms crossed. “Hey there, Doll. Sorry that I woke you. I…ah,” your eyes bore into him, hand on the sheets slowly clenching into a fist. “I figured there was an off chance you would be here.” He clears his voice, throat closing on a trying laugh. “Guess I’m glad I looked. You should remember to lock your door, by the way.” 

At the sight of your rising glare, his tone drops, expression falling even more than it already was. Deep well of sadness grew in his eyes, lips pulling back in a strained agony. 

Alex’s gaze drops to the floor. 

“I know,” is what hits the air, “I know, Sweetheart. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t fucking cut it,” you push your body up as his large shoulders tighten—such an accomplished and strong man brought to a squirming heap when his wife’s sharp words hit him in the chest. “What the hell were you thinking, Alex?!”

Heavy feet hit the floor as you stalk over, fatigue and tiredness pushed all the way to the back of your mind yet also enhancing your emotions. Bitter rage was sparking—held in far too long. Alex’s eyes don’t meet yours, so you grab him by the chin and angle his head up to you. 

At the sight of your red sclera and the baggy gaze he stills. Under your grip his beard tickles you, the soft grip of flesh that makes you want to wrap your arms over him and weep; make him promise to never leave like that again. 

“I…I wasn’t…”

“That’s the thing isn’t it—you didn’t think.” Sea glass floods over, going glossy; hurt etched into both of your faces as if carved from the same stone. But you don’t stop now, growling out as your skin burns. Alex isn’t sad that you’re angry, he’s sad he’s done this to you. “You disappeared, Alex. Laswell had to just drop all of this shit on me. I thought you had died.” You growl. “Do you know what that feels like?!” 

“Sweetheart—”

“Shut up! You let me talk,” he falls silent, hand delicately coming up to grab your wrist. Not to pull you away, just to hold you. To feel your skin and the heat of it. You sniffle and his eyes break. “And the worst part of it was that if you had just asked I would have followed you right then and there.” Alex sharply looks back at you. “But the biggest insult was that you thought I would leave you—that you even considered that.” 

Shock slowly gives way to a blank expression. He was confused, now.

Was that what you were angry about?

“You’re an idiot, Keller. Hot-headed. Cocky.” You shake your head, but a tiny smile begins to bleed onto Alex’s face. Watching you like you’d just sprung a million dollars on him. His grip slightly squeezes, calloused thumb running the span of your knuckles as you shake his head with your hand. “Damn nuisance to my health, is what you are.” Trying to remain angry is tough when he’s looking at you like that—starstruck—but you spit out, “It’s insulting that you thought I’d just give up on us that easily.”

“Most women don’t want a man who’s wanted for desertion, Doll,” Alex whispers, testing a smirk on his lips with his expression still strained. 

“Arrogant!” your voice snaps. “Not a single brain cell in his stupid little head.” You let go of his chin and grip the sides of his skull, feeling the dirty but still soft strands of hair before you huff at him. 

But he just looks at you and smiles, face smooshed. 

“...You really came?” Alex asks quietly. You fall silent and after a moment you deflate.

After the silence of trying to keep the sneer on your face, you let it drop, lips quivering slightly. Anger glints with pain. “I should hit you upside the head, Keller, for all the worry you’ve put me through,” you grunt, eyes flashing over every new bruise on his face—every cut you’d have to re-learn. He looks tired. 

Oh, Alex…

Before the blond can respond to you, you’ve captured the back of his head and shoved it into your chest; face burying itself into his scalp to bring forth that scent of dust and cologne. You whimper out as he grips you around the waist with just as much fervor, “Did you think that I would stay away?”

Alex says nothing, only the slight tremor in his bicep betraying him. You firmly kiss his skull and run your fingers through his hair, the both of you so tight together there’s barely enough room in your ribs to allow your lungs to inflate. 

But holding him was more important than air, a sentiment that Alex seemed to share entirely. 

“I’m so glad you’re here, Bug.” He mutters into your skin. “Feels good to be able to hold my girl again.”

You stay like that for a long time before you pull back and capture his cheeks, face pulling closer before you kiss him deeply. It’s not a fast-paced or desperate thing—no clashing teeth or tongue. That wasn’t what you needed right now. 

All that you needed was Alex. Your home. 

You both separate and the blond grabs the back of your neck, forcing you back so he can lay another on the side of your mouth; nose, cheek. Anywhere that he could reach as his mustache tickled you to a smile. Giggles worm out and you wiggle out of his grip to wipe at your cheeks, spreading away tiny tear tracks and saliva.

“Quit it,” you whisper, and Alex gazes up at you reverently from his chair.

“Negative, Ma’am,” he says, equally as soft, not even blinking. “Don’t wanna.” You roll your eyes, face hot. 

The seconds draw long of only watching one another before you shake your head and move your hands to shimmy out of the dog tags around your neck. Alex’s gaze locks on the metal swiftly, smile shifting.

“You’re horrible.” You huff, quietly, before shoving his dog tags at his chest. “Now put them back on.”

“But I’m not in the—” Your glare shuts him up. Alex clears his throat sheepishly. “Yes, Ma’am.” 

You nod and watch as they’re resituated around his neck. Right where they should be. When you take a step back to really take him in, there’s a moment where you skim over the state of his left leg. After all, the metal was barely noticeable in the dark. But when you do see it every little part of you shrivels up with confused pain.

Alex stands with a noticeable preference to his right and as he towers over you, fingers coming to grab at your face and slowly drag it back up.

A slightly apologetic look washes over him.

“I’m guessing you didn’t listen to all of the voicemails.” 

“Alex…” you slowly cut off. “You…” Staring at the metal limb instead of the real one, you gape. “...how?”

“Y’know,” he laughs, but you don’t find this funny. He notices and kisses your forehead, tapping his scalp to yours and saying after a contemplative pause, “I think it’s better if I don’t explain it. I’m alright, just...” Alex smiles cheekily, the spark that you love coming back easily as it shimmers in his eyes, “just a little more carbon fiber and aluminum than I was before.” 

You hug him tightly.

“I’m sorry, I should have come sooner—I was just angry, and I wasn’t—”

“Don’t apologize to me,” Alex sighs, grabbing you and maneuvering the both of you to the bed. He sits and you end up laying in his lap like that moment in the bathroom ages ago. “None of this is your fault, okay? You deserve to be angry. I shouldn’t have put such a burden on you.” 

You sigh in his arms, head under his chin and heart finally able to return to a steady pace. Licking your lips, you ask, “Does it hurt?” 

Sending a glance down, Alex’s lips twitch with a grin before it disappears. He hums.

“Sometimes.” Your hand grips his opposite cheek and you lay a kiss on his chin, caressing his flesh.

It’s a tentative kind of love. An understanding and a plea all at once. 

The blond leans back against the wall and pulls you closer, closing his eyes. Finally relaxing for the first time in what seems like forever. But his girl is in his arms, and he’s never been this calm.

“I have a home in Urzikstan,” he confesses lightly, fingers brushing your body and giving way to shivers. You listen, eyes fluttering at the vibrations of his words. “It’s safe—protected. I…want us to live there.” Alex nods against your head, swallowing. “If you’ll come back with me.”

“Yes,” your answer is immediate. “Anywhere, as long as you’re with me.” 

You feel his breath hitch, soft chuckles brushing your hair far better than any comb. There’s a small tremor in his voice as he says, “I love you. God, do I love you.” 

Your lips pull up, body growing heavy with a final sense of home.

“I love you, too.” Soft kisses and tight arms. Shifting tattoos. “But if you ever do something like that again without talking to me, I’m telling Laswell she has permission to put a bullet in your ass.”

His loud laughs shake your body, and you press your face into his neck to steady yourself; smiling.

NEW TAGLIST SIGN-UP: Here

TAGS:

@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @konigsleftkidney, @sanfransolomitatm

[3verythingiknowaboutlove]

unsaid

how gn!reader and spencer handle deeper feelings with each other- or how they don't handle them.

fluff? some hard feelings? idk WHAT this is word count: 1258 warnings & tags & stuff: I was picturing mid seasons spence for this, brief mention of a spider?, insecure reader, ugh they're SO in love but also so quiet about it, ignoring problems, happyish ending author's note: first piece of writing on here! this is actually so bad but my brain is ROTTED from spencer fluff and honestly him in general, he's all i can think about so obviously i have to contribute to the epidemic

“HELP!”

You hear footsteps bounding towards you and the door to the kitchen slam open. Spencer’s head swivels as he assesses the situation: you, backed into a corner, clutching a glass, looking directly at a point across the room with a terrified look in your eyes. Spencer’s face immediately relaxes and he moves over to take the glass from you.

“Where is it?” He asks calmly. You point, and the spider is quickly dealt with and brought outside. Spencer walks back into your apartment and you look at him, blushing a little, heart still pounding.

“Thanks,” you say, self-effacingly, taking the glass back from him and setting it in the sink. “I'm sorry for bothering you, I know you were in the middle of doing some work, and I know that my reaction was completely irrational, it’s just-”

“Hey,” he interrupts, reaching out to trace your arm lightly. “It's alright. It’s actually completely justifiable. Our brain is wired to be afraid of spiders because they were a larger threat to our ancestors. Today, although we seldom encounter spiders and they are not a constant threat to us, we still have this fear because it’s ingrained in our DNA,” he explains, trying to calm your anxiety. “I’m also around 80 percent done with my report. So I can finish it later in the week. I'm all yours.” He peers down at you, a small smile playing on his face. You admire his smile for a second or two before his words actually register and you squint disbelievingly.

“I don't know how I feel about that. I shouldn't be taking you from your…duties,” you say, tilting your head.

“My duties?” he asks, matching the angle of your head, laughing a little. You shrug, giving him a slight giggle too.

“Okay, duties are the wrong word. But you do do important work that I should recognise has to take priority sometimes. I bet Hotch would rather you finish your report tonight.” He nods quietly, and you know he agrees. He beckons his head, a signal you’ve come to know means ‘come closer and hug me’. You do so, hugging him tightly and letting his arms wrap around you. You back away after a bit and give him a signal of your own- standing on your tiptoes and looking at him expectantly. He bends down and kisses you firmly, arms still wrapped around you.

Your entire relationship is built off of signals like these. You two just seem to know when the other wants something, whether it be a hug or a kiss, or something more. It made things easy.

So you were also sure that Spencer knew that this kiss was making your heart literally melt. It’s like he can reach in through your sternum and hold your heart until it dissolves in his hands. You can feel it dripping through the cracks into your bloodstream until your legs are jelly and your head is spinning.

You pull away for air and rest your head on his chest.

“How about we compromise and I do it tomorrow?” He asks softly.

Your mouth creates an uncomfortable line. “I know I’m obviously not the boss of you, so feel free to do whatever it is you want…” You pause, trying to find the words. “I just feel like it’s important for me to not take you away from your work at all.”

It wasn’t the complete truth, but it wasn’t completely askew from what you meant to say.

The real, slightly more selfish truth was that you felt like it was easier to send Spencer off to do his work than to try and understand why he wouldn't always want to. You constantly felt so raw and open around him. Like he could always see you and your melting heart. It was insanely scary and new, and not easy at all.

That was not something you were willing to admit today, not right now.

“No, you're not the boss of me, but I do think you have opinions worth listening to and considering.” He kisses the top of your head. He pushes your hair back and looks you directly in the eye. “But I also really don’t want you to feel like you can’t ask me for things. Being in the BAU requires a sort of responsibility. Not to just do my work by the time it’s needed, but to also take breaks and spend time with the people I want to be around. Whether it’s to catch spiders or to give her kisses. Okay?” He checks.

“Okay,” you say quietly. He looks at you patiently, knowing that you had more feelings in your heart but also knowing that it was hard to come out and say it. It was a topic for another night, a braver night. He dips his head down to you, and smiles, almost excitedly.

“Ice cream?” You smile too at the change of topic, and nod.

“Can we get changed first?”

In your bedroom, you throw on a massive white T-shirt that you may or may not have stolen from Spencer many weeks ago, along with a pair of shorts. You turn your head over your shoulder to where Spencer was digging around in his bag. “Did you pack comfy clothes? I know we didn’t discuss sleeping over or anything,” you ask.

“Uh, yeah, do you have a shirt I could borrow?” he responds, not looking up. You dig through your drawers and toss him one of his own shirts, this one Dr. Who themed and navy blue. It lands on his face and he swats it away. “Hey, I was wondering where this went!” He exclaims, looking up at you, offended. He takes notice of your shirt, and stands up straight and moves toward you, feeling your shirt between his fingers. “This too. Theft is in fact a crime.” You blush bashfully in response.

“I like your shirts. They’re cuter than mine,” you argue. He shakes his head, smiling. Soon enough, you're on the couch, working on a pint of Tonight Dough.

Your legs are intertwined and you’re laying on his chest, trying to get to the ice cream he was teasing you with, moving away as you chase it with the spoon. “Stop it,” you giggle. He wrestles the spoon from your grip and digs it in the ice cream.

“Open,” he says quietly. You do so, savoring the taste.

You stay like that for a good while longer, just holding each other, until you break the silence.

“Thanks for making time for me tonight,” you whisper, giving him a soft kiss on his chin. He looks at you and gives you a kiss on your forehead. A meaningful one. One that said a few things that were too scary to say.

It was nice, knowing that you had time to figure out your emotions, that there was no hurry. Your problems and insecurities would still be there tomorrow. You could choose to ignore them for a bit. You could look away from the fact that you weren’t exactly sure why Spencer picked you out of all the other girls. Spencer could ignore the fact that going to work was the most terrifying thing because he finally had something to lose. You could just stay like that, intertwined, inhaling and exhaling slowly.

You let the rest of the ice cream melt on the couch side table, not unlike your heart, neither of you strong enough to get up and put it back in the freezer.

[amethystina]

So my brain is at it again...

And this time it wanted to inform me that it would be very interesting with an amnesia fic where Ga On loses his memories but can still detect emotions related to those memories. Just imagine the possibilities.

Quick disclaimer: I'm sure there are several amnesia fics in the fandom already — maybe even one exactly like this — but I haven't read them so I'm just going to tell you all about it anyway because, to me, it's a new idea xD

Anyhow.

Imagine him waking up at the hospital, sometime during the later half of the drama (maybe he got shot instead of Soo Hyun and complications led to him getting memory loss — idk, let's handwave it for the sake of the scenario), and he's met by Soo Hyun and Professor Min. And while Ga On can't say what their names are, he can tell that he knows them. He can't access the memories but he feels the affection and the trust and accepts that they must have been a part of his life previously. And, understandably, they become the rocks he clings to because everything is new and confusing. He can still remember how to do basic things — he could probably even drive if they put him inside a car — but not who he is.

And Soo Hyun and Professor Min are going to have a rough time explaining some of it, no doubt.

Like, imagine the pain when Ga On asks where his parents are and even before Soo Hyun or Professor Min say anything, Ga On feels a rush of grief and anger. Because he doesn't remember them dying, but his body remembers the anguish of that tragedy all the same.

Some things are more humourous, though. Like: "... why is my face plastered all over the city? Am I famous?" Ga On would be so confused because the emotions he feels as he sees billboards with his own face aren't necessarily good ones. He mostly feels embarrassed and self-conscious. But he is kind of proud when he hears that he's a judge. It must mean he's smart.

Anyhow. The real fun part begins when Soo Hyun brings Ga On back to his apartment and Ga On is like: "Yeah, this is familiar." But he can also tell that, no, it's not right. It's not home. It feels cold and stale, as if he's not really living there anymore. And he doesn't understand why. Because, according to Soo Hyun, he's been doing so since he was a kid. But Ga On just shrugs his confusion off because, all things considered, he trusts Soo Hyun more than his own memory.

Also, imagine when he asks Soo Hyun if he has a girlfriend and she looks stunned, then awkward, then shy, and starts giving some mumbled response that no, he doesn't — at least not that she knows of. And Ga On has an "oh" moment because her behaviour makes it very clear that she'd want to be that girlfriend. But then he'd get confused because what he feels when he looks at her is a lot of warmth and love, sure, but not that kind of love.

Because this Ga On doesn't have years of memories to confuse him and muddle their relationship — he just feels the emotions. And, from his currently pretty objective point of view, it doesn't seem like romantic love.

He may love Yoon Soo Hyun very much, but he's not in love with her.

He doesn't tell her that, of course, because that would be rude, but he definitely makes a mental note to be careful with how he acts around her because he doesn't want to accidentally lead her on.

And it continues like that, with Ga On trying to navigate the world with nothing but emotions to go on. Which, obviously, will sometimes become very overwhelming for him, but he's stubborn so he'd still try and, of course, do his best to recover his memories. And some start to trickle in eventually, but it mostly old ones that are very deeply ingrained in his psyche.

Eventually, Professor Min decides to bring Ga On to the Supreme Court. Not to make him go back to work or anything — that would probably be disastrous considering the state Ga On is in — but to see if any of it can jog Ga On's memory. And sure, Ga On can tell that he's been in his office before and he can tell that he's met Jin Joo before — he feels both intimidated and bewildered by her — but nothing really stands out. All of it is just like ghostly silhouettes of a former life he knows he must have had but can't see clearly.

And then he meets Yo Han.

Just sees him from afar at first — Yo Han isn't even looking in Ga On's direction — but the familiarity still hits Ga On like a freight train. That is someone he knows as instinctively as he knew Soo Hyun and Professor Min. And before Ga On can really think things through, he just walks up to Yo Han because, clearly, this man is important. Ga On can tell that this man is important because his heart starts racing, his breaths go shallow, and he's suddenly overwhelmed by such a myriad of confusing and conflicting emotions he can't even sort them out. Some are negative — even outright alarming — but there's also joy and fondness and longing.

Which just makes him even more confused when Professor Min catches up and explains that this is Ga On's boss. And said boss looks at Ga On with what he first thinks is bland indifference. But the longer he stands there — and listens to Professor Min tersely explaining what they're doing there to Yo Han with half an ear — Ga On realises that, no, that's not indifference. There's something underneath it — a spark of something else he can't name but can definitely tell means something. And he desperately wants to know what that something is. He wants to scratch at it until he can peel away the layer of indifference hiding it from sight.

He needs to know.

But then, not long after that thought has crossed his mind, Ga On is reminded of the fact that this is, apparently, his boss. His male boss. And Ga On really shouldn't be feeling any of the things he's feeling. But, at the same time, he can't just ignore it. Because this is what a connection should feel like.

He might not have a girlfriend but, clearly, he has someone he's in love with.

And that's a little daunting, not to mention disorienting. Because Yo Han doesn't look approachable at all, and there is also a lot of frustration and anger mixed in with the much happier emotions when Ga On looks at Yo Han. There's just so much. And Ga On is confused because he can't really see himself falling in love with the man in front of him. Yo Han doesn't look like a very kind man.

And then, suddenly, Ga On realises that he has no idea if Yo Han knows that Ga On is in love with him. Maybe they're even a couple? It sure seems like they could be considering the attachment Ga On feels. He gets impulses to be physical in a way he hasn't with anyone else he's met thus far. He felt comfort hugging Soo Hyun, sure, but this is something else entirely. This is a need burning inside of him, urging him to draw closer to Yo Han.

He kind of wants to kiss Yo Han, right there in the corridors of the Supreme Court.

But Ga On can't be sure because Yo Han isn't exactly easy to read and aside from that spark of something when he looks at Ga On, Yo Han is impenetrable. And, if they were a couple, wouldn't Yo Han have insisted on finding Ga On earlier? Even if they have some sort of secret relationship that Soo Hyun clearly isn't aware of? Shouldn't Yo Han look more worried?

So maybe they're not together? And Ga On is just hopelessly in love with his boss? A boss who, judging by the way he looks at Ga On, might not even like Ga On.

Whichever it might be, Ga On realises he has to find out. His old memories are already trickling in, slowly but surely, but they're all of Soo Hyun and Ga On's parents and stuff that happened ages ago. And Ga On wants to know more about his life now. He wants to know more about Yo Han.

And he desperately needs to know if his feelings are reciprocated.

Even if it will definitely break his heart if he finds out that they're not.

...

SO YEAH.

It would be quite fun, wouldn't it? If I can find a way to make the story relatively short, I might just write it. Because I'm really intrigued by the concept of Ga On still having the emotions attached to the memories, but not the memories themselves. So he'll remember being both frustrated by and attracted to Yo Han. But without all the memories and years of influence from Professor Min and Soo Hyun fresh in mind, he wouldn't understand the negative emotions as much, nor put as much weight on them.

And it would be interesting to see how that would change their dynamic.

Because some of Ga On's behaviour would still be the same — he'd still be stubborn, righteous, a bit awkward etc. — but he'd also be freer. And a lot freer to act.

So that would be interesting, I think?

And now my brain will hopefully let go of this story and let me focus on other things for a while

[to-thelakes]

I feel like Luke could also call them baby girl (ik its Morgan's thing but imagine Luke saying it) or pretty girl

Also think about Luke worshipping reader. Like full on having notes in his phone or on paper with favorite foods, flowers, music. Everything! And also just nsfw worshipping obviously

i love the idea of him calling his partner 'pretty girl' that would actually have me weak at the knees. and i do actually kind of see 'baby girl' as being something he would say but derek saying it is so ingrained in my head that it is hard to really see it any other way, if that makes sense? but i absolutely see it

and now... the worshipping, oh. my. god. he would worship his partner, it would be beautiful. here's just some thots;

SFW

starting with the safe for work things, he is very very sweet, like he has a couple of notes in his phone full of lists, lists of your favourite foods, stuff that you have mentioned that you want and present ideas, date ideas, so many things

also, we know that luke usually cannot cook for shit but he would absolutely learn for his partner, he wants to be able to cook their favourite things and give them the perfect date nights

like, he is downbad for his partner and it's honestly a little embarassing

but he would also constantly give them little kisses on the cheek/forehead etc. and he would get blankets to wrap them up if they were cold

i also would say that this is NOT one-sided like worshipping because his partner would absolutely be the same

like they would be a tooth-rottingly cute couple, constantly talking about each other, bigging up their achievements, lists and notes about things to do, constant text messages

aND luke would always get a postcard for his partner from the places he went for work, sometimes they'd be blank, sometimes he'd write to them if it was a hard case and then they'd be given to his partner whenever he got back

like they are on his mind 24/7 and they would get constantly praised, CONSTANTLY

NSFW

now, the nsfw worshipping... well

he is a giver

luke alvez is a giver and i will take no criticism on this

he would literally settle between your legs and stay there for fucking hours if you would let him

like he would want you to cum before him and as many times as you'd let him, like he absolutely is a giver and the whole time he is between your legs, he is fucking praising you constantly

he wants you to know how pretty you are, how beautiful you are, how much he loves you letting him do this, literally the most filthy shit would come out of his mouth and he would just have you folding in seconds for him

he is also just very skilled with his mouth, he would kiss you everywhere and he can do magical things with his tongue, whether he's kissing you, he's between your legs or he's kissing your body, he's so fucking good at it

and he does in fact kiss everywhere, not a single part of your skin is left untouched by his lips (within your boundaries obviously) and the whole time he is telling you how perfect and beautiful you are

okay and also, if you have stretch marks/scars/marks that you don't like, he will give them special love

like if you have stretch marks on your belly, he will press kisses across them and tell you how you are breah-taking and the marks on your skin don't change that, whether you have them or not, he would absolutely adore you either way

luke just wants you to know how perfect you are and he would make sure before he got his own release, you were feeling so loved and worshipped

i feel like false god by miss swift is very luke-coded in this situation like "Religion's in your lips / Even if it's a false god / We'd still worship / We might just get away with it / The altar is my hips / Even if it's a false god / We'd still worship this love"

like luke would just absolutely worship at your feet and he is a fucking simp for doing it but he loves it

and even when he inside you, he's still constantly praising you, telling you how perfect you fit around him, how perfect you are and how much he loves you

and if you ride him? oh. this man. he is seeing heaven, he is gone, like he would praise you even more,

this has just turned into me rambling about luke & a praise kink but... he would play into it if you had one and he would fucking worship every part of you while praising you endlessly

this man loves his partner, nobody can change my mind

im a whore for luke alvez, that's all.

[anistarrose]

I saw a post where a person was defending generalized statements, and I'm not going to do that thing from the meme where I generalize by saying "generalized statements are ALL terrible," but the post's reasoning didn't sit right with me, and their example really illuminated why. Let me explain.

Their argument was that generalized statements are fine, and tagging on exceptions is just "deflecting," if the exceptions are so obvious, uncontroversial, and universally agreed upon that no one would interpret them as the subject of the statement to begin with. Seems reasonable enough, put like this — but do you want to know what their example was, for a statement like this where the exceptions are apparently so obvious?

"Everyone should exercise, because it makes you healthier."

This person claimed that obviously, no one would interpret this statement as being about people who can't exercise. In their claim, no one would say this to a "wheelchair user." This was their quintessential "justified" generalized statement, and their reasoning behind it. And to that, I say:

Do you know how many disabled people I know who can't exercise, who have communicated that they can't exercise, and still get told to exercise by their doctors?

I'll tell you this — it's too many. And that raises an urgent question:

If literal medical professionals can't see the "obvious," common-sense exception to that generalization, then is it really such a harmless generalized statement? Does the "uncontroversial exception" heuristic hold any merit for evaluating generalized statements?

I argue it does not. In the exercise case, this is not some superficial mistreatment, for the record — it's a frighteningly widespread manifestation of ableism (and often, also fatphobia), which directly harms people who are denied real, attainable treatments under the "you just need exercise" excuse. Not everyone who has made that generalization has ableist intentions, of course — but I hope we can agree when I propose:

If the exceptions to a generalization are treated poorly because they are the exceptions, then the generalization is a harmful generalization. We should make a reasonable best effort not to propagate, or otherwise societally ingrain, these harmful generalizations.

But, as you may notice — "generalizations are bad when they hurt people" and "generalizations are fine when the exceptions seem too obvious to bother specifying" are the two statements we're comparing here, yet they do not inherently contradict each other. And if we recall the post that I'm criticizing... that's actually part of the problem, in my opinion. An exception that seems obvious to one person can be glossed over by another person, and in doing so, hurt whoever lies in that exception.

To be clear, I'm sure the person who wrote that post has no desire to reinforce, or handwave away, any mistreatment of people who can't exercise. But I also doubt that they, personally, know very many disabled people who can't exercise, or have spent much time listening to disabled activists speak out about medical ableism. And this is because, at admittable risk of generalizing... we're all people who have lived in a complicated world, for a finite amount of time.

We do not all have lived experience, or even robust secondhand experience, with every axis of oppression. We are poor judges of when a generalization can harm its exceptions, alongside and sometimes because of, how we also poorly judge when the exceptions are really agreed upon.

We have implicit biases, and often, they come in the form of blind spots. Experiences we're not familiar with. But a good tool for mitigating your blind spots, not to mention the insensitive things you might say as a result, is to be cognizant of the fact that those gaps in your knowledge exist. To be open to learning... and, in parallel, to maybe just possibly cut back on the generalizing.

I made generalized statements in this post, of course. Sometimes, they're just efficient, if not downright instinctual. But I would still encourage people to exercise more caution around generalizations, and especially generalizations of certain types, where either the explicit text or the implication comes in forms like "All human beings do X," or "All human beings benefit from Y." Things like "love/sex makes us human," I'm looking at you, for example. If you don't lie in the exception, you might not realize there are exceptions, or at least not realize the harm that that generalization can cause to those who are.

When you only have a particular finite number of experiences, other people's experiences you haven't considered will hide in the margins. We can't become experts of intricacies of everyone's lives and marginalizations overnight, but we should be willing to learn — and the first step of being willing to learn is accepting the gaps in your knowledge. Which, of course, generally isn't helped or practiced by generalizing.

[limbus-limousine]

Do you have design takes on Kromer, Knauer, Alfons, and Frau Eva. I'm dying to know

Okay first and foremost I apologize because this kind of turned into an essay but like❤️

When it comes to Knauer and Alfons, honestly, I don't have much of a mental image???I have aphantasia, so it's hard for me to imagine appearances from only text and usually stick to specific representations of them, limbus designs are like super ingrained in my mind but I do think of their book descs aswell. Mostly I'd say Knauer would be physically similar to Sinclair to some degree, but their main differences lay on face, eye shape and such. I usually draw Sinclair with round shapes, but then roughen him around the edges a bit (I make his eyes sharper, hands calloused etc). Knauer would look more soggy i think

About Kromer, I always try to make her look bulkier in a way?? Blocky and spiky at the same time if you will. I also love making her sclera a dark greenish hue, it makes her look like an animal being hit by camera flash a bit... I also lean more into her limbus character because I love how much more relevant she feels, I at least try to portray her in a slightly animalistic, scary way, in contrast to Demian with whom I also lean towards animalistic, but more like, sly??? If that makes sense, fox/snake like. Kromer to me is more feline (cat hunts bird uhu) but also insectoid, to represent that while she is scary and such, she lacks Demian's sly mystique and intelligence (in other words, the mark)

As for Eva, I imagine her very similar to Demian (obviously) although in my mind, both of them aren't super defined, the lines are blurry. I think I mentioned this before, but they feel to me like some kind of cryptid. I boost the "creepy/scary" aspect for them a lot, I think because I deeply resonate with Sinclair's more abstract view of love, it reads to me like he finds beauty in the grotesque, and I want to interpret that as nonchalance and even appreciation to something that is outwardly scary. Also going to the whole star symbolism... God, space is scary, but ohh is it beautiful as well.

It doesn't feel completely right to portray them as people sometimes tbh. They are more like masses of light and energy floating around to me. Demian to me represents camaraderie, guidance and a more childish (but still profound) love, while Eva leans more toward the whole mothery love thing, maturity, home, safety. But they are like, two ends of a spectrum?? Sometimes it will be an in-between of those shapes of love and feeling, is it Max or Eva?? Doesn't really matter, they give of the same light, same star... This is why I portray Demian differently as well, sometimes I will make his hair longer, face a bit older looking, etc.

IM SORRY this is really rambly and super long auughgg😭 I'm not very clear with specific design aspects but the way I see them psychologically really influences how I draw them... Thanks for the ask anyways!!! I love talking about these freaks mannn

[kimbappykidding]

Your relationship with Yeonjun ends abruptly when he cheats on you with your member but neither of you can quite move on from one another

 Even though it had been almost 4 months since you'd broken up, Yeonjun still froze every time he saw you. It did get better the more times he saw you in a day but the first time always got him.

While you didn't freeze every time you saw Yeonjun and the pain had lessened considerably, you did think of him and still missed him which made you mad at yourself every time. You also still found him attractive too which didn't help. You pretty obviously had a type and the only other guys you found attractive looked like him. You watched him performing during his latest comeback and sighed, he always knew how to work a stage. The problem was this wasn't a normal breakup where you just lost touch or were going down different paths. No, this break-up was caused by the ultimate betrayal between Yeonjun and one of your own members.

You weren't too close to your members before but Yeonjun and Ari's actions had ruined everything. You always felt slightly left out of your group being the only foreign member but any relationship you did have with was made worse by how most of your group took her side. They, of course, were sympathetic at first but they liked her more than you so encouraged you to think of the group and to remember it was just a kiss. You wanted to scream when they said that because it wasn't just a kiss. The image was still ingrained in your mind all this time later. Of the two of them together, her in his lap and how his hands held her hips as they moved together. It probably would've progressed to more if you hadn't walked in on them. The aftermath was the worst time of your life. Your only support system was your fellow Thai Idols and if it wasn't for Lisa and Minnie you're not sure what would've happened to you or what you would've done. You only had a year until your contract ended and then you were gone. In your mind, you were done with singing and music. It had been your passion since you were a child but now you wanted nothing to do with it, you just wanted to be alone. The company was trying to sweeten you up by giving you a solo and all the creative input possible but you just wanted out. Yeonjun knew how much he'd hurt you and he hated it. His actions with Ari had been his worst moment too and he tried punishing himself but there was nothing he could do to make it hurt less. So when you dumped him he didn't fight it, he did everything so you wouldn't have to see his face or have people ask you about him. He encouraged his members, who of course were friends with you after 2 years of dating, to still be there for you. However, you told Beomgyu you'd prefer not to see any of them for a while and that broke Yeonjun. Not only had he ruined your life he'd also broken 4 friendships. Time passed and Yeonjun had no idea how you were doing. He'd left you alone and avoided your group like the plague but recently he'd been thinking a lot about you. There was some drama with his family and he didn't know what to do. Your family was similar to Yeonjun's and you always got his feelings and understood his thinking. So he desperately wanted to discuss it all with you but of course, he couldn't. Soobin noticed Yeonjun had been down a lot recently and Yeonjun explained the situation. "Just when I think me hurting Y/n can't get any worse things like this pop up and I realise how much she was there for me. I'd give anything to talk to her about this" he sighed and Soobin frowned "well what if you asked her?".  Yeonjun's heart picked up "but I can't! After what I did to her how can I ask for help?". Soobin nodded "I know but this is about your family who she always cared a lot about. Plus, you want to be friends with her again don't you?". "More than anything" Yeonjun nodded and Soobin nodded "well then you'll have to make a first step sometime. Test the waters, be very clear she doesn't have to respond to you and can ignore you. Ask her permission and be as compensating as possible. Don't ask to meet up, give her the choice to just text if she wants to but I'd say try". Yeonjun sighed but nodded. He was terrified but he trusted Soobin, so he wrote the text and sent it. You looked at your phone and saw a name you hadn't seen in 5 months since he stopped texting you. You were on the phone with Lisa in seconds. You sent her a screenshot of the text and she read it in silence.  "What are you feeling?" she asked. "Angry" you replied "after all he's done he expects emotional labour? Someone to sound ideas off and comfort him?". Lisa nodded "I agree but he did give you multiple chances to say no. I know he sent the text anyway so there's still some emotional collateral but you don't have to reply. You can delete this and he knows". You sighed "should I do that? I should right?". Lisa frowned "Look I hate his guys but I'm only saying this because I think you're too scared too...you miss him and I know you worry about him and still care for his family. You're a good person and I know you'll torment yourself with worry about him if you don't atleast text him back". You nodded "I want to text him back and that makes me hate myself". Lisa shook her head "don't...you can't help it. Plus it's just a text. It doesn't mean you've forgiven him or are condoning his action  It doesn't mean anything". You nodded and took a breath "okay help me write a reply". Nearly an hour later Yeonjun received a reply and he actually gasped. "What?" Taehyun asked and he smiled "Y/n texted me back!". "That's great" Huening Kai smiled and the younger members started getting excited. Yeonjun shook his head "don't do that. She's still sad, I can tell by her message and she's only agreed to help me because of my parents". "But still it's something" Beomgyu said and Yeonjun nodded "yeah it is". You only sent Yeonjun 3 texts but they did drain you and brought up a lot of old memories. It didn't help that you were also working on your solo which happened to be a sad ballad at the time. It helped in that every note you sang was so raw and honest but that didn't make you feel much better. Your members all went quiet when they first heard it and you knew why. They all knew you were signing every single note to Yeonjun and Ari and you didn’t care to try and hide it. The first time you performed it live they were both there in the audience and you felt your emotions take over. They surged out of you through your voice and you gave the most emotional and powerful performance of your life. 

You hit the final note and the stage went black. The audience screamed and other idols clapped along, many female idols had glossy eyes that they tried to hide and all your idol friends were wiping away tears. Ten was stood up clapping, Lisa looked furious on your behalf and Minnie who happened to be behind TxT was screaming loudly for you. But through it all, you only saw Yeonjun. He was staring at you and when you locked eyes he looked so ashamed and shocked. Like he never quite realised what he'd done to you. You held his eye for a few seconds before taking a deep breath and quickly fixing a smile on your face. You waved to your fans and made your way off stage as if it didn't feel like you were crumbling. You figured you just had to act like that wasn't the biggest moment of your career and should pretend as if nothing happened.

But Yeonjun didn't feel that way. He made an excuse to the staff and rushed backstage to find you. He knocked on your dressing room door and you opened it not expecting to find him there. "Y/n...I need to speak to you" he said. You knew Yeonjun and if he didn't say whatever was on his mind he'd probably explode so you let him in. Luckily he got right to the point.  "Y/n I know I hurt you but I never knew I made you feel that way...I'm so sorry". You blinked at him unsure what to do or say. For so long you thought if he just knew how you felt and apologised you'd be at peace but you weren't. The sorry felt redundant now but it still hurt. So you just shrugged "it happened, it's over now". Yeonjun frowned "but you're still hurting. I can tell, I know you remember". You rolled your eyes "you don't get to tell me you know me!" you said sharply and Yeonjun raised his hands "you're right! I'm sorry. All I meant is I can see in your eyes you aren't happy. You nodded "of course I'm not for so many reasons! You cheated on me for one, with one of my members! A person I have to see practically every day so try healing from that. You put an immovable wedge between me and all my members. A wedge I just made a chasm by singing that solo. A solo everyone loves by the way which is great but also so fucking sad because it's about the worst time in my life and I re-live it every time I sing those words...and the worst part is through all of that I still care about you...and miss you and wonder about you". Yeonjun stared at you unsure what to do. Hearing you still cared about him made him want to leap for joy but the tears running from your cheeks made him realise this wasn't a good thing. "You ruined me Yeonjun" you said softly "and I don't think I'll ever recover from that". Yeonjun frowned "I'm so sorry Y/n" tears filled his own eyes "there's not a day that goes by where I don't regret what I did to you or hate myself for it. I'd take it all back in a heartbeat and I still care about you too. I'll never forgive myself for what I did to you and all I can say is I'm sorry". You were crying fully now and Yeonjun's instinct to try and hug you won out. He gently put his arms around you and while at first, you were rigid the moment you smelt his scent you couldn't help it. You were soon crying into his shirt and couldn't stop yourself. You just felt so overwhelmed and your brain was confused, unsure if Yeonjun was still safe or not after all those years of him being your support system. You were too tired to remember to be angry. You were just sad. You stopped crying a while later and Yeonjun sat beside you. He'd given you his jacket at some point and you had some water. You'd been crying so hard you now had hiccups and were trying to get them to stop. "Do you want me to take you home?" Yeonjun asked "or I can order you a taxi if you'd rather not be with me?". You just wanted to go home so you shook your head "let's go". Yeonjun nodded and rushed to grab his stuff. You drove in silence until Yeonjun pulled up outside your apartment. "I know talking about it is painful but I think it could also help you get closure. I know I'm the last person you want to hear this from but I'm worried about you Y/n. You're very pale and skinny, your eyes look tired and if your members are a problem then that's not good for your stress levels. If I can be one less problem I'll do it so if you need me to stand there while you scream or to send angry message then do it". You nodded slightly "I think I need closure and there's one thing that always bugged me...why?". Yeonjun paused as the question he'd always been dreading finally came up. "Why did you cheat on me?" you asked "you always told me it was a mistake you regretted but never explained why you did it in the first place". Yeonjun sighed "it just kind of happened. It had building I guess, Ari used to flirt with me and I'd flirt back encouraging her. I thought there was nothing wrong with it but then it became way too normal and we both got bolder and then that happened. I never planned on doing anything, she was just there and I was tired and lonely it just happened". You weren't sure what you were expecting, some reasonable excuse but that was your answer. He was tired. You almost laughed. "Well let's hope you're on a better sleep schedule now" you replied and got out of the car. You walked away and felt something shift in the universe. Things were about to change. One year later Yeonjun watched you on stage and couldn't believe you were the same person as before. You'd left your company the second you could and hadn't looked back. You signed up at a new company and seemed to be thriving. You performed your song on stage to a screaming crowd and idols singing along. Your debut solo song had done really well and you'd already won 2 awards for it. You looked so much better. You were back to a healthy weight and your smile didn't seem forced anymore. You looked happy and that pleased Yeonjun. That's all he wanted for you. He saw you again that night sandwiched between G-Idle and BlackPink. Yeonjun had noticed how pretty much all the girl groups and several of the boy groups had become friends with you and as you walked several called out to you. Then you paused as you spotted him at the bar. You hesitated and Yeonjun shook his head "you go I'll go later" he said and went to back away but you shook your head. You walked right up to him and took a breath "I need to tell you something". Yeonjun nodded and looked at your expectantly. "I forgive you" you said and Yeonjun's eyes widened "really?". You nodded "I'm in a much better place than last year and I've decided to let go of any of those bad memories or pain. I'm not saying what you did was right...that's not what forgiveness is, but I choose to let go now". Yeonjun nodded "thank you and I'm really happy to see you doing so well. You look...well happy". You nodded "I am, for the first time in nearly 2 years I am". Yeonjun smiled "that's great, you deserve it all". You nodded and moved away. "You okay?" Soobin asked, having observed the whole thing and Yeonjun nodded. For the first time since your breakup, he let out a deep breath he'd been holding because you were okay. You'd recovered from what he'd done to you and his worst fear of him causing you irredeemable damage hadn't come true. You were stronger than the bad he'd done to you. Yeonjun would always carry the weight of what he'd done to you but he was so happy you'd recovered. It was a relief and something he'd always be grateful for. He loved seeing you smile and you were truly thriving, enough to even repair some old friendships. About a month later Yeonjun came back from the bathroom to hear a familiar but sorely missed sound. You laughing. He saw you chatting with Soobin and Huening Kai. You must've somehow found each other at this kpop event and got talking. Soobin said something and Huening hid behind you as you argued back jokingly. He watched the scene and smiled to see you doing so well but then he paused. He felt a much more familiar pang of regret realising this not being normal was all his fault. He'd never gotten over you or been able to move on and he was fairly sure he never would. As if sensing his thoughts Soobin looked up and spotted him. You followed his gaze and met Yeonjun's eye. His breath paused but then you smiled softly and gestured for him to come over. He felt so surprised but also joyful and hurried over. "Hey" he said trying to act casual "what's Soobin done wrong now". Soobin mocked gasped and Huening giggled. You smiled "he was just teasing Huening for his plushies" you told him "he threatened to throw some away". Yeonjun laughed "that would be like torture to Huening!". You nodded "that's what I said" and laughed before you seemed to realise what you were doing. "Well it was really great seeing you again, good night" you called and walked away. Once you'd gone both boys turned to Yeonjun. "You both just stood and had a conversation!" Soobin said. Yeonjun nodded "I know...and it felt amazing". After that, you had several more chats with TxT and Yeonjun. You'd nod to each other at award shows and talk behind the scenes. Yeonjun would sometimes find your friends watching or glaring at him as you did but that was okay. He was so grateful you had them and all they'd done for you so they had the right to be angry at him long after you'd forgiven him. The more he was around you the more he realised he still had feelings for you and that they weren't going anywhere. He hadn't dated anyone in nearly 2 years since you'd broken up and honestly he'd never even thought about it. He knew you were the love of his life and he figured he'd wrecked all of that but now you were talking again he wasn't sure. You still fit together so well and the last time you'd run into each other went to get a coffee and stayed talking for hours. The way you looked at him gave Yeonjun hope things weren't over and so he kept a watchful eye for any hint from you, that you might want something more. When he got it at a party where the two of you found yourselves outside together all night, he went for it. "Y/n I...I never stopped loving you" Yeonjun said and your breath caught in your throat. Yeonjun carried on "I still love you and I know after everything I've got some nerve even asking but is there any way you could give me a second chance? I've learned my mistake I promise, I just want you back". Your heart was hammering in your chest and your brain hurt with all the thoughts processing. When a while passed and you didn't reply Yeonjun prompted you "Y/n?". You took a breath "sorry I just need a minute...I don't know what the smartest thing for me to do is". Yeonjun nodded "I know your brain is probably screaming at you to tell me to suck it but I swear Y/n I will never hurt you like that again. You can trust me and I will prove that to you every single day". You sighed "see I believe you mean that but what if that changes? You never set out to hurt me the first time but Yeonjun I almost didn't survive this. I'm not sure I can take a second one". Yeonjun shook his head "me either which is why you can trust me. I know how badly I messed up and it was the worst time of my life. So no matter what happens I will never let things get that bad. I'll be open and honest with you throughout. Please just give me a chance to show you". You looked at him "please don't hurt me again" and Yeonjun broke. He rushed forward and cradled you against him. "Never" he said kissing your forehead tenderly before looking into your eyes "does this mean...?". His voice wavered and you saw the emotion in his eyes so you nodded. "I still love you too" and you kissed him. Yeonjun had literally dreamed of this scenario for so long that it didn't feel real. He kissed you back, his brain unable to process if his wildest dream was really happening. You were giving him a second chance! When you pulled away you were both laughing and crying at the same time. "I won't let you down Y/n, I swear it" Yeonjun said concentrating so hard he was frowning and you smiled "I know, I trust you" and you did. You could feel the truth in Yeonjun's words and could also feel something else. You weren't sure what it was but something was telling you this was the right thing to do and that your struggles with Yeonjun were over. Your future together was going to be bright. _______

Just to clarify I am in no way saying cheating is something Yeonjun would do! I just wanted to explore a sad storyline with Yeonjun :) 

[elvenbeard]

During his time working at Arasaka, Vince lives in a company-issued apartment, obviously, and so far, for VP purposes and such, I've always gone to the Corpo-Plaza apartment for that. I thought, maybe it is a little too fancy, but then again, the view isn't all that great, it's not that high up, and it doesn't even have a bathtub, so, it works xD

I feel like it would kinda fit that Arasaka has their employees close by (iirc, the Counterintel agents gotta be "on call" basically 24/7 in case of an emergency, so even Charter Hill would be pretty far away, Wellsprings might work still, but yes). Also, you have Arasaka Tower right in front of your window and only very flimsy shutters, so you can always be reminded of your work duties and loyalties basically from the comfort of your living room XD

Anyway though, I wondered, how would Vince get to work every day? I don't see him having a car at the time, cause I imagine parking in City Center to be hellish and/or expensive af. Delamain would work, but when Vince still lived in Charter Hill, he and his friends used the metro to get around most times, so I think he might go back to that. So I tried it out, since there's a station nearby, and the closest stop to Arasaka Tower is Memorial Park. The walking to and from the stations also takes up some time though, and so the fastest and most direct way is actually just walking directly xD

So I walked his way to work, and *the shortest* most direct way on foot between Corpo-Plaza apartment and entrance of Arasaka Tower is through the 2023 memorial site. And idk. I love that on multiple levels.

Obviously, it's not gonna be the shortest way for everyone, but imagining that visitors and others who are able to walk to work have to go through the memorial to get in sends a super strong message imo (one of shifting the blame away from themselves completely, as you do as a big evil corporation). Level-design-wise it's *chef's kiss*, too. And storytelling-wise that gives me a whole bunch of new ideas for Vince's and Johnny's already-strained relationship as well xD Like, for a couple of years, twice a day often, Vince has listened to how these vile terrosists killed millions of innocents with their actions, and how Arasaka will never forget about that, etc etc. And then, of all possible people it's *the* terrorist that gets stuck in his head because Arasaka took the "never forgetting" a little too far on too many unethical levels.

With that in mind I feel like all the interactions with Vince and Johnny that revolve around the "terrorist" thing in the beginning have a much stronger impact. If Vince hadn't had that daily walk to work (or if he had had a different background altogether), there really would only be the information Viktor gives on Johnny post-Konpeki-heist. While that works, too, it's not a super deeply ingrained conviction V has, just something their trusted Ripper told them and they just accept as truth (not that Vik would lie, but you get my meaning).

But with Vince, Johnny would actually have to claw his way through years of subtle brainwashing to have Vince stop calling him a terrorist without a purpose deeper than causing death and destruction. And idk... I sometimes just love how little headcanons that start out with no big thoughts behind them ("Where would he live? well, Corpo Plaza apartment maybe, cause that means I don't have to build my own scene for this lil VP idea") lead to bigger and bigger ideas and work really well with what the game provides already xD

[dizzywing-dispatch]

theres something so irritating, but ultimately not outright hateful about ac3 d1scour53 nowadays (which is why i dont engage with it) but i just have to say i wish people could just get along instead of arguing about sex-repulsed vs sex-favorable people.

i'm sex-favorable and for a very long time the layman's understanding of asexuality is that being that way is invalid. the model of asexuality has been sex-repulsed. the model has been lumped together with aromanticism. the model has been that Asexuals are Celibate. i have had people telling ME this for years. i have had to drill it into my friend's heads repeatedly that ace =/= sex repulsed. i have had to tell people that yes, i am capable of kissing people. i have had asexuality used against me as an excuse in a relationship by my partner seeking intimacy from somebody else because "youre asexual, i didn't want to make you", when i had stated my boundaries and willingness. i have been used unwillingly in other people's relationships because "sexual talk doesn't mean anything if it's you, you're ace". ive been told that i'm not really ace, ive had people try to tell me im demi or allo or aro or maybe i just shouldnt date because id let people down. ive considered renouncing the label, because even though i know im asexual i have been so hurt by the people inside and outside the community because that's all i want to tell them. i don't owe every person i meet the explanation that im asexual BUT there's this specific caveat.

i obviously have less experience on the sex repulsed side. i am sometimes repulsed, but less than i used to be. but reading loads of comments saying things like "yeah, there's been such an uptick of people adding on that some aces like to have sex, and i personally dont so dont speak for me!" is so frustrating. who's speaking for you except yourself. im speaking for me. i just want people to acknowledge that we exist, because outside of the tumblr bubble nobody does.

i'm glad the tide is turning but it also brings negative posts on the rebound like everything else. ive been out as ace for 8 years and only feel slightly comfortable online in the last one year. there is recognition for sex favorability because we keep speaking up, and people are finally listening; but there's also a lot of complaining ive seen that we're speaking over other asexual people. its not to be contrarian! its not to be more palatable to allos! its not to invalidate you specifically! its because the idea of "aspec is when no sex" is so deeply ingrained in the minds of other people, and that hurts us. if, when someone chimes in with "some asexuals still enjoy sex", you take it to be a generalization upon all asexual people or an attempt to market us as abiding social norms, then i don't know what to tell you. because none of us do. we are all under the same label, one that lies outside of standard social norms, one that fits us for a reason.

EDIT: hopefully people who follow the d-scourse tag won’t see this now. if you still see it, know that i do not want to engage with you.

[bisexualsdean]

Hello fellow bylers, I saw some tags on a Stranger Things post by @biigiiiii making conjecture about being gay in the 80s and I thought, well my dad was a gay teen in the 80s, let me ask him! And it was originally intended to just be sent via messages but then I figured it would be easier to structure as a text post and idk maybe someone else would be interested in hearing his thoughts. All of this is his own personal experience, obviously that is not universal. Hopefully someone finds this interesting or enlightening in some way though.

Gays at Large

What was the general feeling toward LGBTQ people in the 80s?

Homophobia was bad enough that people did not give a second thought to it or how damaging what they were saying was. Between the AIDS epidemic and Raegan administration, homophobia was extremely commonplace and pretty ingrained in Western culture. It was generally more prominent in rural areas than cities — that much has not changed.

The Q Word

How does he feel about the word queer and has his feelings changed at all over the years?

Well, despite rampant homophobia, there had also been a lot of pushing for LGBT advocacy in recent years. The Stonewall Rebellion happened in 1969, which had a significant effect on American society. A year later, in 1970, were the first gay pride marches. For my dad, queer was a word that had already been reclaimed by many, and so therefore meant little to him. In his words, "I'm a queer? A [f slur]? Tell me something I don't know. What, are you going to call me a [hispanic slur] next? 🙄"

Knowing vs Awareness

Was he aware he was gay as a teen? No but yes. As with many who are considered different by society's strandards, there is always an undercurrent of Knowing that you are different. You understand, on some deep level, that you are not fitting the mold that you should be. But that doesn't mean you actively aware and thinking about it. In fact, a lot of people do their best to not think about it and pretend to be "normal."

In my dad's case, he knew he was different, but he didn't "have time" to think about it that much. There was other things going on in his life that made it easier to put thoughts of his sexuality on the back burner. And yet, despite this suppression, he still was keenly aware of other people's attitudes toward LGBTQ folk, which became a sort of sixth sense.

Hypervigilance is Exhausting

As a survival instinct, my dad was always on the look out for who was "safe" and who wasn't. My dad was not a particular flamboyant person and he was into more "masculine" interests (his career is in HVAC, plumbing, and electric, and his hobbies involve listening to the news and playing the guitar); this made it easier for him to fit in, but he still could not ever truly let his guard down. This became so ingrained that he sometimes wonders if his personality would have ended up different had he been allowed to be himself without fear. Fear is a powerful tool in shaping a young mind, after all. And it's also so very wearying. Eventually, he got to a poijt in his life where he decided to hell with what everyone else thinks and feels and he would be himself shamelessly because there's not enough years in a life to be constantly forcing yourself into a socially acceptable boxm

The Curse of Internalized Homophobia

But...what about internalized homophobia? Yeah, unfortunately, he very much experienced it. And, even more unfortunately, it found its way into his speech, throwing around some homophobic slurs of his own before he came out of the closet. According to him, he has known many a gay man who shared in homophobic language during their closeted/repressed years. I don't think I need to tell anyone how terrible it is the way society can coerce you into being part of your own groups oppression.

Birds of a Feather

Did he know any other gay people though? Again, no but yes. You might have noticed or heard about the concept of gay people flocking together before any of them even know/accept that they're gay. His case is another one for the books. There were definitely a few people he knew were closeted, though he never approached them with the topic, but it wasn't for many years later that he would find out how many people around him were LGBTQ in one way or another.

Funnily enough, he married my mom out of high school, and as it turns out, she's bi and trans. (Trans man, she/her, very complicated history with gender. Also they are divorced but still best friends.)

Stolen Youth and New Hope

So, what is the overall feeling of having been a closeted gay teen in the 80s? Well, like something precious was kept from you. Those experiences that cishet folk got to have, you didn't. So many of the formative experiences many have in their adolescence were not viable for LGBTQ folks—from openly having a partner to just being and presenting how you wanted to. And, like I mentioned before, he was left with a persistent wondering about who he would have been had the world been a better place. (This isn't even something unique to his time either, many LGBTQ folks of all ages feel like this!)

That said, he is still so glad to see the positive changes in the world. He watches things like Heartstopper and is happy that, at the least, he got to live long enough to see that sort of representation on TV. And I think that's lovely. (As a personal aside: fuck you @ everyone who bitched about Heartstopper being "too sanitized", gay people deserve all types of representation on TV. If you don't like a certain kind, move on to something else and let those that do like it enjoy themselves.)

So, yeah, there's all the stuff I talked to my dad about. If you have any further questions for/about him (or my mom perhaps), feel free to shoot me a message!

[proxythe]

Another hc is I think Shinji loses a lot of weight during the 2 years just cuz he isn’t getting enough to eat and he’s getting sicker and then when he’s recovering he has to take a lot of time to be able to move again so he’s definitely not doing much strenuous activity and he regains weight slowly. I think what is able to really help him both gain weight and learn to be nicer to himself is he makes food that he himself would enjoy (its a long journey cuz he’s not used to being nice to himself and he’s very crabby about it lol) and I like to imagine him having a sweet tooth and liking cookies and cake a lot and he gets chubbier over time and Akihiko is like over the moon cuz Shinji is taking care of himself and it’s showing!

Then Mitsuru um because of fucked up angsty reasons shes had to prioritize her appearance a lot, a whole metaphor for keeping up a facade so she doesn’t reflect badly on the company, and she always is very controlling of what she eats and how it’d make her look. She also puts a lot of effort into her hair and makeup to keep up a perfect image of femininity. Then like during her social link she’s with Kotone just kinda exploring common shit for the first time and she develops a love of fast food and it frightens her cuz like. What’s happening to her she isn’t allowed to have this kinda indulgence and she certainly isn’t allowed to enjoy it either. But she’s supported and encouraged to let herself eat whatever she wants and she just explores a lot of options and eats what she likes even if it’s not some perfect shit that keeps her skinny I think Kotone and Yukari would collectively be like PLEEASSEEE DO WHAT MAKES YOU HAPPY IF ANYONE SAYS ANYTHING WE WILL MURDER THEM WE HAVE OUR WEAPONS DRAWN. So Mitsuru gets fatter and also stops wearing makeup too and it’s very scary cuz she’s always had it ingrained in her that this is the last thing she’s allowed to be but she also feels her body and looks at her natural face and she finally feels like her body is her own and she loves what she’s made

Obviously we gotta have Shinji and Mitsuru bond over their new food revelations it’s part of repairing some strain in their relationship I think Shinji can definitely be pretentious about food and would probably have negative opinions of fast food like he’ll eat it cuz sometimes you just can’t cook but hes snarky about it. But when he sees Mitsuru likes it she figures he’s got something snarky to say and he’s just like "uh actually knowing what you’ve gone through I’d be pissed if you didn’t eat fast food let’s go get some borgers". He does make some of his own shit occasionally though like burgers and fries for Mitsuru to have and it’s a nice gesture but it just doesn’t capture the ENERGY of wild duck burger 🙄. Shinji would melt anyone if they said that though alsjka. Mitsuru in return would get Shinji some fancy ingredients and any special sweets that are all expensive (even though I strongly believe the happiest ending for Mitsuru is one where she isn’t really a part of the Kirijo group family anymore let’s just say she still has a way to get yummy snack akjsks). They candy is always really strange and tastes like shit 8/10 times and Shinji will eat all of it anyway and he will not share

Basically Shinji 🤝 Mitsuru: gaining weight and exploring what foods they like for the first time as a way of showing they’re recovering

i’ve thought ab this with shinji constantly (i’m not sure the oversized clothes i put him in have ever properly showed it tho 😭) but i’ve never imagined it with mitsuru !! i definitely draw mitsuru a bit thicker than she actually is but ive never put much thought behind it besides it looks better to me LMFAO … now i will have a reason to continue drawing her this way and more…

in general, the whole “gaining weight to signify growth” oh i could collapse i fear … literally the most perfect & beautiful hc for any fandom…

& guhhh i seriously seriously am in love w shinji & mitsu friendship so much. i always love to think about the respect they have for each other and how they can alwyas just get together if they want to chill … falls to my knees. them getting food together and it’s whatever they want bc they’re becoming so secure in their lives … ……. no judgement just vibes. post canon shinji lives au, i love u so much…

also the bits w aki, kotone, & yukari … clenches fist. sniffle. this is kind of in relation to all of sees but it works here so i’ll mention it: their entire group vehemently protecting each other even tho they’re all fully capable of doing so on their own (except probably fuuka & ken to an extent) is actually just a god tier level thought. big family ..

+ i love that u send such long asks Thank you so much… you’ve already said everything so i feel like there’s not much for me to add !! but i love this so much… 🫶🫶

[galvanizedfriend]

hi, yokan <3

I read that in Brazil there's a week-break because of carnival, therefore I hope you're finally having a bit of rest!

I was wondering if you could post an outtake with the klaroeve scene? from you comment I understood that there was more than that little scene in the latest chapter, and I would LOVE to read it!

sorry if I sound rude or pressuring, it's not my intention at all :(( I'm just Eve's third parent, I need more scenes with my babygirl being adorable 😭😭

I totally get why you don't put more of her in the main story. I ALWAYS say that babyplots are terrible due to a lot of factors, one of them being the constant present of a baby who basically does nothing (rightfully, since, yk, it went out of the whomb last year) and that adds nothing to the plot but just terrible fan service.

I think most people would agree with this, maybe even you!

HOWEVER, my little wolf/fish/mermaid is THE exception and I would love to see more of her, and, since u have a series dedicated to those fluffy moments that don't exactly fits with the plot, I really wish you will post something there 😭😭

sorry for bothering you, I hope you'll have a good day!

P.S.

totally off-topic but I also read some of your comments in Portuguese (AT LEAST I think it's Portuguese 😭) and I understood like 80% of it, privileges of being Italian ‼‼ so lol now you really can't escape me >:)

Yes, it's Carnaval right now! It's a nearly weak-long holiday, but it sadly ends on Wednesday. 😢 And I was technically on call yesterday, so 😂 But I am very much enjoying not doing anything 🤷‍♀️

About the baby thing, yes. 😂 I've been so lucky to get some passionate readers almost from the start with this fic and to have people who are still reading it a ton of years later, but I've also had to read some very mean things over the years that have stuck with me. It has made me extremely self-conscious about this story. I sometimes find myself almost apologizing for writing it, like I'm commiting some kind of crime against fandom or like I should be banned for inflicting this upon people for as long as I have. I wish I could be the kind of person who just doesn't care and remains blissfully unbothered, but I'm not. I'm not a naturally confident person in any way, and that kind of thing does get to me.

It's gotten better, of course. I care a lot less now than I used to, and the fic is not as popular as it was a few years ago either, so there's that But some of that stuff has just ingrained itself into my brain. Objectively I know this is stupid and I don't owe anybody anything, I don't have to apologize for writing a fanfiction for god's sake. There's room for everyone in fandom. I can have a corner to rewrite the show and have a magical Klaroline baby, fuck it. Who cares, you know? But it's almost stronger than me sometimes, I don't realize I'm doing it. I get this feeling that I need to be more critical otherwise people are going to think it's ridiculous and OOC and nobody's gonna want to read it anymore and etc etc. It's exhausting. And it's obviously nobody's fault, it's just me in my own head, but that's how it goes.

The scene you're talking about in particular. I had it written years ago. Literal years, maybe 2021 or early 2022. Some of my friends had even already read it a loooong time before the chapter was finished. And I was convinced that it was so cute and totally fine. Then as I wrapping up the chapter, I started getting this itch that it was actually ridiculous and the folks who had read it didn't say anything because they were being nice, they didn't want to hurt my feelings, and I had to get delete it. So I did. In all truth, I think the chapter is more polished like this. But then I removed a family scene and ended up writing smut that also had no place in the chapter, so. 🤷‍♀️

Anyway, I'm sorry for the rambly response. 🥲 I'll tell you this: I will read the deleted scene again and if I feel it's not dumpster-fire bad, I will post it here. But I need to check it first, because there is chance that it's not just my paranoid head telling me to get rid of the baby scenes and it really is just that bad. 😂

And as for the last part, yes, it's Portuguese. It's my native language. And it's so funny how Italian, Spanish and Portuguese can be so similar. I understand Spanish much better than Italian, but I do get some of it as well. Latin languages 🤜🤛 (except French, I don't understand French at all 😂)

[la-principessa-nuova]

Long venting post:

I accidentally ended up visiting my parents tonight. Basically I was bringing back the dog after taking her during the day and my mom was just getting home and she was like, “are you gonna stay and talk or…”

And I felt like I should but I knew I shouldn’t, especially because my mom was on the phone with her sister and so I’d be waiting around for her to get off the phone first, so I was like, “No, I was just dropping off Lucy,” and I went home.

But then a few minutes later my mom texted me a picture of mail for me from the doctor’s office, which must have been sent before I updated my address with them. I eventually went to get it, and now my dad was home and my sister was there.

My dad was in the middle of ordering food and asked if I wanted anything. I said no at first, but it was from a place I’d been wanting to try and so I changed my mind. So then I’m waiting for the food and start talking, eat, and keep talking, and I end up there until like 11 PM.

And mostly it was good but then it was so bad. There was some stuff that was nice, like my mom and my sister were talking about makeup and I didn’t chime in because even though they know I’m trans I don’t think they’ve come to terms with the idea that I wear makeup and haven’t seen me in it, and also my dad was still awake in the other room.

Then later they’re talking about their hair and how long it is and stretching to see how far down it goes. I’m pretty dysphoric about my hair but I mostly just felt included in it so it was fine. Then my mom made a comment “I know you’re jealous” about the long hair, and I thought it was a nice inclusive thing to recognize that I’m jealous of them having long hair, but in hindsight, she might have meant it as a hair loss joke.

And then it took a turn for the worse when my sister said she’s planning on voting for Trump now. The thing that she said convinced her was him saying he’d make IVF free, which would be a big deal for her, but it’s also clearly a lie based on his past actions and obviously that ignores everything else.

But then it got worse because she started talking about the same conspiracy theory stuff my grandmother had gotten down that made it impossible to talk to her, and from her explanations it’s clear that she’s started getting conservative conspiracy theory TikToks and fallen for them.

But what makes it so hard to argue with them is that they both (my mom included) believe that the only thing politics really effects is how much they pay in taxes and stuff that effects other people far away that they don’t care about, and despite my sister sometimes claiming otherwise, they both have extremely xenophobic beliefs deeply ingrained, but they do things like say something awful and then say they were joking, or act like it’s the group they’re offending that just can’t take a joke, and how the real victims are the white people being called racist, and stuff like that.

So I’m like trying to make them see the they’re being brainwashed by all this conservative propaganda that they’re suddenly believing all this stuff, and meanwhile they’re acting like I’m being so unreasonable for being offended that they’re voting to take away not just my rights but all of our rights so they can maybe save money on taxes. Because in their view it’s ridiculous to get this worked up over politics.

And when I bring up a specific issue it’s met with one of the following responses:

Baseless speculation that maybe Kamala Harris also will do the same thing anyway or something worse because who knows

Dismiss it as not important

Glance around awkwardly because the elephant in the room is that they don’t actually want trans rights or feminism.

And the inherent hypocrisy in so many of their arguments. That gender affirming care for trans people shouldn’t be free “because it’s a choice I’m making” vs her PCOS treatments should be because that’s an actual medical thing. They’re literally both gender affirming care. The only difference is despite claiming to not be transphobic she doesn’t see me as a “real woman”. Or to have my mom and my sister sit there and tell me how the last thing we need is a woman as president.

They both hated Trump a few months ago. And now they defend his crimes and horrible behavior/personality while condemning Kamala Harris not based on even knowing anything about her, but just because they heard her talk and thought she seemed kinda fake.

So eventually I went home and I forgot the mail I went there for and now the night’s over and I’m so fucking tired.

[aprofessionalwithoutstandards]

So I'm aro and kinda ambivalent/slightly pos on sex stuff. So like from an aspec perspective on all your posts is very interesting to watch. Idk. I feel like people only use my identity to mask they still have growing to do and that sex isn't... Like, scary I guess? Its just a thing people do, Yk? Also that lots of different people have sex, conventionally unattractive people have sex, you don't need to "beautify" them. Adults have sex. These characters are all adults, by the end of the comics Scout is in his late 20s, like. I'm fairly certain these characters have had sex, and infantilizing characters like Scout, sometimes Engineer, or especially Pyro, whether they realize it or not, reflects on them and their feelings on how people "should act" and mental disorders. They can have sex! The sex can be weird! They are weird people! Like... They're adult men. They range from mid 20's to possibly their 50s-60's. Who are messed up a bit. I don't think they're timid little virgin babys who have never seen a genital or came in their life, like, be serious. I think it CAN be interesting to explore how someone in the 60's-70's would navigate asexuality in this scenario. Like, that can be an interesting take IF you put the actual thought, understanding, and nuances of being aspec. But like, it's always just like, filler sexuality here to be there cuz I don't have a strong grasp on the character. A pretty flag for the sake of having another flag. And because of that lack of character and world understanding they lean on stereotypes under the guise of progressive ideas.

Sorry about the all over the place rant, just been thinking about this kinda stuff every time I see ur posts.

Nooo don'tworry this is rlly nice to hear n a perspective I can't rlly give! Obviously I'm not aspec myself AHGKLAGA but I definitely don't like stuff like "well of COURSE Pyro is aroace bc they're baby uwu" it just doesn't sit right with me LMAO. None of this is to say that I think it's "wrong" to have ace Pyro or ace Sniper or ace whoever headcanons, of course I don't think that. I especially think it's really nice when someone sees themself in a videogame man, regardless of what their identity is. I just think yknow, stuff like "this guy has Brain Problems (Sniper has social problems, Pyro has delusions, Scout has a disorder I'm calling 'being in his 20s') and therefore does not have sex" or in Pyro's case especially "cannot even UNDERSTAND sex" is kinda just harmful and offensive across the board, to mentally ill people and aspec people alike. I'm always reminded of that ask I got like "if autistic people can't handle bright lights how are they supposed to handle sex" bc like 1) plenty of autistic people are perfectly Fucking capable of understanding, having, and enjoying sex and 2) ace people aren't ace bc they "can't handle" or "don't understand" sex LMAO. Sex is a thing some people have, and a thing some people don't, and like either of those things are good and okay and fine. Idk there's just a veeeery wide societal problem of really infantilizing both asexual people and disabled people that I think extends far beyond "fandom" or whatever, it's rlly deeply ingrained so a lot of people aren't aware of how they perpetrate it. Basically I just don't think an ace or aro headcanon should surround "X character is just completely incapable of understanding and/or consenting to sex or romance" ESPECIALLY if that character is disabled (like Pyro tf2, or even to a smaller degree like Sniper tf2 if the person doing it hcs him as autistic or whatever). If u want someone to be ace they can just be ace! It doesn't need like a "shy baby uwu" reasoning behind it

[gailhai1storm]

Ok so i want to take a look at the idea of "earning a living”.

first of all its a fucked up concept in and of itself, the idea that you only deserve to live baced off of the work you do, its fucked up.

but what fasinates and horrifies me about it is that I am willing to stake money on that I know ere historically the idea can be traced.

this is going to be long so I'm going to put a keep reading thing here

Im going to start with feudalism.

In a feudal system you work to make food to provide food for the people who are meant to protect you, the nights.

thats how its ment to work.

but it didnt really, well it did for a bit and then broke down, as does any system. In actual feudalism you were still paying the nights for protection via your harvest but not protection from outside forces or powers but protection from the nights themselves.

if you give us food we wont kill you.

the peasants were held at gunpoint to a deal that only hurt them.

so quite literally your wages, your production were your earn your living you worked inorder to not be killed.

now feudalism came to an end (slowly and there is more to it ill go into at a later date) but mercantilism took its place, especially in northern Europe and England.

Now im the most formiliar witht his transition as it took place in England because that's what I've been specifically studying for a hot minute. So we will use that as our case study.

In England there is a shift away from feudalism, this happens in large part because agricultural techniques improved and less people were needed in the feilds.

This decrease in need for labor in rural areas drives many many people to flood to the cities. These people in the cities are poor. Very poor.

So there is a mass flood of impoverished people who have no experience withworking in an urban environment, and there aren't jobs for them, and suddenly everyone has to see the poor people.

So how do the nobility and middle class cope? How do they justify this disparity?

Well you tell the same lie people tell themself now.

If you work hard and you "pull yourself up by your boot straps" you will “earn your living”.

Youll even be wealthy, so clearly these people who are destitute and have been forced off their land, by the same people who have been holding them at gunpoint for generations, who would not in a million years have chosen to be poor or destitute. They must be choosing it, they must be imoral, must be slothful, because why do you deserve to be comfortable and these people don't if they are working hard.

Now we are a deeply religiouse society, and immorality is obviously bad, so you want these people to work, because as a government you have to do something about it. Now you have to do something about it so you set up housing and governmental programs to help these people who are suffering.

But now the idea that these people not working has been ingrained as bad and immoral, so you make workhouses.

You make houses where the people work till they are raw, work sometimes till they die. You make houses were the poor must work, to stop being immoral, to deserve a roof and a vile meal.

And you are desperate, cause you cant make money any where, there is no other work, because you are poor so no one will hire you, because you must be immoral.

So you turn to the workhouses and you “earn your living".

So ye, the idea that you have to work to live, it is a vile vile thing, that stems from vile systems.

It is an idea that stems from systems built on suffering.

Everyone deserves to live.