#Stemming from abandonment issues?

[the-dragon-hearted]

We, as a community, do not talk enough about how Juvia and Bora are exes.

Like HELLO

Mr. Number 1 Opp of episode 1 who actively participated in human trafficking dating the one and only done-dirty-by-Mashima water woman.

Also Bora broke up with HER? Sir?? There is so much to explore there that, like many things, IS NEVER BROUGHT UP AGAIN -

Okay - so were they childhood friends or was he using her for her looks/powerful magic? Did it start off transactionally or was there some spark there? How long did they date? Did she stay with him because she felt that no one would ever love her, so at least she could be valuable in a different way? Did he make her laugh? Or just put up a facade in front of other people? Was she his backup for a while, a bodyguard adjacent fella for when his schemes went sideways? Is that how they started? What about the end? Sure we see him breaking up with her in canon - but why? You can't tell me he suddenly didn't like the rain of The Rain Woman. I mean he can, he's a prick, but consider the alternative: Did she catch on to his beginnings? Expose one of his scams? Grow critical of whatever shit he was getting into? Did she say something? Did she try to stop him?

The first time we see her she is completely covered head to toe in several layers and the rain does not stop. She says it's never stopped. But damn, doesn't it feel like turned from a drizzle to a downpour after him? I think it's purposeful. The layers are purposeful. The hints are there. She fully expects to be discarded after her fight with Gray. AND seeing how she comes out of her shell in the later arcs - watching her change her hair and her clothes, experimenting with new styles with an almost fervent joy - it just makes me wonder.

Could she not do that before? Was there an expectation there? A controlling factor? How much of her identity was she willing to sacrifice to quiet the fear of being unloved? How hard did the rain fall as it progressed, did it ever waver, or did it only get stronger and stronger.

And Bora? Fucking Bora?

Was it REALLY about the rain, or did she just speak up? Did she intervene and he had enough sense to refrain from trying to harm her. Because if the relationship was built off of him using her for magic and granting her some sense of companionship in return, then he damn well knew that there was no way he, a lil fire mage, could stand up to the actual force of nature that is Juvia. No, that meant he knew EXACTLY how to hurt her without inviting her vengeful side.

So he tells her she's too depressing. He reinforces how unlovable she is. How it's HER fault. How it's always been HER, how he's leaving her because of who she is - how he couldn't change her. He probably throws everything she's quietly confessed to him and leaves - safe from retribution and free to continue his fucking diabolical business. Because he knows he's hurt her worse than anyone else could. He knows that she'll either come running back, or she'll run and run and just keep running.

He doesn't know that Juvia only loved the idea of being loved. Not him. Bora can't imagine anyone not loving him (he can, but he's the one who's running, headfirst into greed with an enchanted ring on his finger - someplace Juvia never would've followed). Juvia doesn't run back to him. She doesn't run at all, the rain pours and she decides: "Fine, if I can't be loved. Let me be feared."

Maybe Phantom Lord orchestrated it, the master seems sort of cartoonishly conniving, and Juvia's magic is insanely powerful - but if that is the case, that doesn't change how easily Bora was bought. It doesn't change how Bora knew just what to say to push her to that point. It honestly doesn't change much of anything.

Bora? Pathetic.

Juvia? We all know she's always been lovesick and maybe if she was allowed a bit more characterization we'd be able to explore why. Maybe we'd talk about why she wore so many layers or kept her hair long. Why she kept a "frilly" pink umbrella but wore all blue. Indulging in a childish side while wearing a face of complete apathy. Why she adores the idea of being loved but can't seem to make it work. Why she's desperate for romance but finds more joy in the friends she makes - it doesn't stop her from chasing "true love" but she finds she doesn't need a lover's touch to chase the rain away anymore.

Because the rain was never about Gray, it was about Juvia. It was about how she was loved - not by others - but by herself.

I could spend eons critiquing how she was written... But for now I'm just gonna sit here and think about the consequences of Juvia dating Bora.

And I'm gonna laugh when Natsu and Lucy own his ass in episode 1. Because they don't even know it yet, but they're avenging a soon-to-be-friend. And honestly, I hope Juvia read about it in a newspaper, the pages soggy under her touch. I hope she sat in a park, the sound of pouring rain drowning out all else, read the headline.

And I hope, that even in that dark moment of her life, when she was the cruelest she would ever be, she read about Bora getting his ass handed to him. And I hope it made her smile.

[ciderjacks]

Chilchuck is one of those special characters where you learn about his past and you go “ohhhh that explains a lot” except where for most characters this happens like once or maybe twice, with Chilchuck it happens literally any time you learn anything at all about him, and every time it’s explaining a different thing he has going on.

[eddiesgayjuice]

Nicks wrote “Landslide” while in Aspen, Colorado, inspired, while looking at the mountains, by the thought that everything in her life she’d been building could come crashing down at any time. It became a tale of love and life artfully woven behind the metaphor of a snowy mountain avalanche. (x)

[conanssummerchild]

writing a fic abt rick having an ed bcs why would i recover when i can just project all my issues onto fictional old men in cartoons and pretend everythings better now ‼️

tw eating disorder, minor self harm and vomit near the end

Morty stopped in the open doorway of the garage, watching Rick who was sat scribbling down some kind of invention idea, or equation, or whatever it was he did when Morty wasn't around, for all Morty knew he might well be writing fanfiction.

An involuntary smile pulled at his lips at the idea of his almost 70 year old genius grandfather spending his free time writing silly little stories at his work bench. What would he even write? Ball Fondlers fanfic? Maybe he wrote about his stoic bird friend, Rick had always been touchy with him and Rick wasn't touchy with anyone.

When Morty focused back on Rick he wasn't writing anymore, the slightly crumpled piece of paper shoved to the side as he fiddled with what looked like a small metal box with a bunch of brightly coloured wires poking out of the sides. A small spark shot out of one of the wires Rick was holding and he cursed loudly, shaking his hand.

"Fuck, Morty, are you just gonna– gonna stand there, or are you gonna pass me the fucking, uh– the thing."

Rick waved his hand in the general direction of the shelf nearest to Morty, but there were so many assorted trinkets on the shelves, Morty had no idea if Rick wanted a wrench, or a hammer, or one of his laser guns, maybe the box was like a new battery for them?

"W-what thing, Rick?"

"The thing, Morty! The fucking– the uh, destornillador."

"What? Rick, I don't know what that means. W-w-what is that?"

"Jeez, Morty, what are they teaching you at that crap school you love so much?" Rick scowled, tossing the box to the side and getting up to grab the screwdriver himself.

"I havent been to school in like a month, Rick!" Morty exclaimed. "And even then I only got to stay for like an hour before you were dragging me out again!"

"Whatever." Rick said with a burp, "School's dumb, Morty. I'll teach you Spanish myself. B-but, uh, not now."

He turned back to his box, done with the conversation, but Morty stayed hovering in the room, remembering what he had come for in the first place.

"Okay, um, w-w-well lunch is ready."

"I'm busy."

Morty sighed, having expected that answer already. "When's the last time you ate, Rick? Or slept? Or... showered?" Morty said, wrinkling his nose a little.

Rick ignored him, pulling at a blue wire.

"Rick!" Morty frowned.

"What, Morty? J-jesus christ, what the fuck do you want?"

"I want you to have lunch with the family."

"And I said no, so screw off."

"Rick, come on, it would make mom so happy."

Rick glared at him, not bothering with an answer.

"...Wouldn't y-you do it for your original Beth if you could?" Morty tried.

Rick slammed the box on the table, causing the thin metallic shell to crack, sparks flying from it, the sudden noise making Morty jump.

"The fuck did you just say?" Rick snarled.

"S-s-sorry!" Morty squeaked. "I didn't m-mean– mean it in a bad way!"

"Get the fuck out." Rick said icily, eyes blazing.

Morty stumbled out of the room, shutting the door behind him to the sound of something crashing. Probably Rick throwing the damaged box across the room.

Morty winced. In his defense he was worried about Rick, and sometimes, depending on his mood, something like that would've gotten Rick to cave, clearly he wasn't feeling so sentimental today, more annoyed and angry.

"What was that about?"

Morty startled a little and turned to see Summer looking at her phone behind him.

"Just, y'know, Rick being... Rick."

"Mhm, pro tip, don't bring up his dead daughter to try and blackmail him into something he hates." Summer drawled. "You can only do that if he's already half convinced, or if he's feeling especially depressed sometimes.

"Summer! That's– that's messed up!"

She quirked an eyebrow. "Oh, yeah, so only you can manipulate grandpa Rick?" Summer scoffed. "God forbid women do anything." She said sarcastically and turned to walk away.

"Wait!" Morty fidgeted with his hands. "Can you... help me? To get him to have lunch w-with us? Please?"

"Yes, but not now. He's already upset so if we double down on trying to get him to eat he's only gonna clam up."

Morty nodded. "I know that– but how do you? You don't spend as much time with Rick as I do."

"Because he's like mom. Who do you think got her to stop drinking before parent-teacher conferences at school?"

"Wow. That's pretty fucked up that you had to do that, though, y'know, Summer."

"Yeah, well, we're the Smiths, Morty. Is anyone in this house not disordered?"

Morty winced at the blunt statement, Rick really was rubbing off on her. But it was kind of true.

"Guess it runs in the family." He muttered

"Guess it does."

---

Morty hadn't been planning on seeing Rick again until the next day. He knew that when Rick got upset he needed his space. Morty didn't quite get it because when he was upset all he wanted was for someone to hug him and tell him everything was going to be okay, but Rick wasn't like him he supposed.

If he was being honest it made him nervous to leave Rick alone in those bad headspaces he got into. Rick was volatile and unpredictable and a borderline danger to himself and often others. He'd walked in on a couple... compromising situations where Rick had had to explain away why he was passed out in his chair or why there was blood on his hands and his lab coat despite being the only person in the room.

Morty pretended to believe him when he said he had been doing a messy dissection experiment or that "This isn't blood, this is Balorkian dust I mixed with red Squanchenite fluid from Planet Squanch, Morty." But truthfully those moments haunted him.

However, he didn't want to invade Rick's space, so he let him be and tried to eat and sleep until Rick emerged like nothing had happened, even though Morty knew what habits of his went on behind those closed doors.

Of course Morty's patience had it's limits, like when two hours after he had left Rick in the garage, angry, there was the sound of something smashing, closely followed by an unmistakable sound that Morty had grown too familiar with since Rick had moved in. The sound of a body thudding to the ground.

He was up from the sofa in a flash, at the garage door before Summer could even put down her phone, flinging it open.

He felt like he couldn't breathe, but the only sight that greeted him was a smashed bottle and rick lying on the floor next to it, not looking any more dead than usual, looking up at Morty blearily, cracking a smile.

"Oh, hi Morty. H-hey buddy." He slurred, clearly drunk out of his mind.

"Jesus fucking christ, Rick." Morty said weakly.

"What happened?" Summer breathed, now standing at his side.

"He's just drunk." Morty muttered, wrinkling his nose at the overpowering smell that he hadn't registered before between his state of panic and shallow breathing.

Summer ventured into the garage, picking up an empty bottle and sniffing it. "God, grandpa Rick, what the hell are you drinking in here, fucking rubbing alcohol?"

"Sum-Sum! 'M just having some– some fun drinks. Fun drinks just a lil' bit. Besides I only ever drank rub-rubbin' alcohol once, n' it was– tasted like shit."

"What? I was being sarcastic, why would you drink that?"

"Because I was sad... was sad 'nd lonely after B-b-blood Ridge, couldn't find anythin' else. But 'm not s-sad now."

"What's Blood Ridge?" Summer frowned, "Actually it doesn't matter right now, you need to sober up."

"Get him some water," Morty interjected. "I'll clean up the glass. I also know where he keeps all his hangover serums and stuff, but he told me not to let you into any of his drug stashes."

"Fair enough." Summer shrugged, leaving to get Rick some much needed water.

While she was gone, Morty felt along the wall until he found the small hidden panel under Rick's desk. He fished out the light blue vial of fluid for hangovers, the red one he'd forced Rick to make that would sober him up and a green one that basically equivalated to getting your stomach pumped if you took it, just in case he'd taken more than just alcohol.

He shut the panel securely and placed the three coloured vials on Rick's work bench, grabbing a purple tube-like gadget from a shelf. He pressed a button on the back of it and typed in "Broken Glass" on a small hologram keyboard that emerged, then pressed that first button again. A blue ray shot out, scanning the garage, and the pieces of smashed bottle disappeared in a matter of seconds.

Morty looked over at Rick, who was still lying on the floor, but now he was tracing his fingers along a crack in the cold ground, his expression so solemn he almost looked sober.

"Rick?" Morty asked hesitantly.

"I miss her." He said flatly. "I miss her s-so much."

His words were still a little slurred but his tone had lost all the previous levity.

"I tried to save her, Morty, I t-t-tried, but I couldn't bring her back. And no one could ever replace her." A rough sob escaped his throat. Morty felt frozen. "I'm a crappy fuckin'– piece of shit father but I didn't want to be. I was gonna fuckin' give– give up everything for them, and I would've been happy. I would've been so happy as long as I had them, but he fuckin' took that from me! I nnever even got a chance."

Rick was crying, he was crying so hard that his tears stained the concrete dark grey and snot ran down his face sideways. He was shaking like a leaf and gasping for air.

Morty crouched down next to him, fists clenching and unclenching, unsure if he should hug Rick, or if that would make it worse. What else could he do?

"Oh– oh shit, Rick, I–"

"My little girl, my baby." Rick continued between sobs. "She meant everything to me. S-so yeah, I would be better f-for her if I could, but she's gone. There's no point."

Rick's sudden fit of violent sobs was calming down, replaced by a look that Morty could only describe as pure hoplessness and defeat washing over his features.

"'S no point in anything."

Shit, this was bad. Rick didn't admit defeat, and he certainly didn't talk so openly about his feelings like this.

"Aw jeez, Rick, come on don't– don't– don't say that. we killed Rick Prime, remember?" Morty said, wringing his hands anxiously.

"Yeah, I remember." Rick said, tone now devoid of emotion. "I remember killin' him with my bare hands, watchin' the life drain out of his eyes as his blood dripped down my fists. And I remember nothing changing. W-w-what d'ya do when you achieve your life long goal and nothin's better? It didn't bring them back, it didn't– didn't give me closure or give me a reason to live. I still can't sleep, petrified he's in the fucking house, comin' for my new family, that he'll kill all of you to teach me that t-that's what happens when I-I care about people."

Rick wiped his face with his lab coat sleeve, rubbing away the snot, drool and dried tears while Morty just kneeled next to him, frozen and unsure what to say.

"Rick..." he started but then Summer stepped through the doorway and Rick's demeanour instantly changed.

"Summerfest!" he called out and Morty watched, a little shocked, as Rick's whole face changed in the blink of an eye, going back to the cheerful, goofy expression he'd been wearing when he and Summer first came in. It didn't look artificial to Morty at all, even now that he knew it was. How could Rick just switch it on and off just like that?

"I brought water and coffee." Was all Summer said, placing two mugs on the workbench. "And a cereal bar."

The second statement sounded a little more unsure and Morty could've sworn he saw Rick's jaw clench for a second.

"Gimmie coffee." Rick said, making grabby hands, still lying on the floor.

"Water first." Summer replied, handing him the larger of the two mugs.

Rick pouted a little but as soon as the mug was in his hands he drank thirstily, finishing the whole thing in one go.

"You want more?" Summer asked, taking the mug, but he just shook his head quietly.

"Okay," Morty cleared his throat when his voice came out a little shaky. "drink this."

He handed Rick the red 'get sober' vial and Rick chugged it obediently, making a face. "Tastes like– like shit." He offered.

While he seemed a little calmer after the water and serum, his eyes were still unfocused and his voice sounded thick, like his tongue didn't fit in his mouth properly, hints of his accent were slipping through too.

"Did you- are you on drugs r-right now?" Morty asked, reaching for the green vial of serum.

"Maybe." Rick mumbled. His eyelids were starting to droop a little and he curled up more comfortably on the floor.

"Hey, Rick, don't go to sleep okay? What did you take?" Summer asked, crouching down next to him, shaking him a little. He groaned. "Come on, we just have to make sure you're not overdosing and then you can sleep. Maybe not on the floor."

"'M not overdosing." Rick grumbled.

"What did you take?"

"I dunno. Just some random alien drugs I found i-in my pocket." He said dismissively with a burp. "Actually one of 'em was probably adderall. Look at me bein' all responsible an-and takin' my meds n' shit."

He of course immediately showed his 'responsibilty' by gagging and then throwing up on the floor.

Morty winced, reaching for the purple device again while Summer tried to coax him into drinking the green liquid, frowning deeply.

Finally Rick gave in, sipping from the small vial, and almost instantly his eyes began to clear up a little bit.

"Why'd I make these work so well?" He groaned. Then, "My head is killing me, I want coffee."

Summer passed him the second mug and he gestured toward the hangover serum, which Morty promptly passed to him and Rick poured it in his coffee.

He gulped down half the coffee and sighed, wiping his mouth with his already rather dirty sleeve. "Fuck, that's better."

He downed the rest of it and placed the mug on the ground, getting to his feet shakily. He swayed and nearly fell, leaning onto the wall to steady himself as the dizzy spell passed, and then stretched, his back cracking loudly.

He took a few wobbly steps towards the door but Summer blocked the way.

"Fuck– fuck off Summer I gotta– I'm gonna go take a nap."

"Could you maybe eat something first?" She asked firmly, holding up the cereal bar.

"No."

Rick tried to sidestep her but she blocked the way again.

"Summer, don't fucking piss me off right now, I'm serious."

She stood her ground. "Just eat the cereal bar, grandpa Rick. Please."

"Summer, for fuck's sake, I said no!"

"Grandpa," She sighed, the arm holding the bar dropping defeatedly back down to her side. "Do you have an eating disorder?"

The garage was deathly quiet for a second.

"Wha-What?! I'm not a teenage girl in a f-f-f– goddamn netflix drama, Summer." Rick snarled. "What the fuck kinda question is that?"

He gestured wildly, taking another step forwards, which quickly seemed to be the wrong option as a sudden wave of dizziness hit him hard, making him almost loose his balance. He blindly tried to grab onto the back of his chair somewhere behind him, but missed and fell on his ass.

"Rick!" Morty and Summer both rushed to his side, Morty's eyes beginning to well up a little from all the stress of the day.

"I'm fine, don't– don't fucking touch me." He said, shaking Summer's hand off his shoulder, which caused another wave of nausea to hit.

"Please eat this." Summer said nervously, voice shaking as she pushed the cereal bar into his left hand, his right one gripping at his hair.

"Summer, I promise you if I eat that shit right now I'm gonna throw the fuck up."

"Please?" Morty pouted, eyes big and teary.

All it took was one look at him, and with only a brief moment of hesitation Rick snatched the cereal bar from Summer, muttering angrily under his breath.

Morty only caught "Me cago en la puta." and "Maldito cabrón." which he more or less understood, more familiar with swear words than any other words in the Spanish language.

Rick peeled away the wrapper slowly with unsteady hands and took a small bite.

Morty and Summer watched in silence, not wanting to discourage him by saying the wrong thing—which with Rick could be anything—as Rick uncomfortably ate the cereal bar.

"There you fucking go." He said weakly, Throwing the now empty wrapper at Summer, but missing as it was too light to travel more than a couple centimetres, landing somewhere by his feet.

"Thank you." Summer almost whispered.

They sat in silence for a while, Morty sniffling and rubbing at his eyes and Summer shuffling a bit closer to him for both of their comfort.

Rick was sitting with his knees losely bent and his head braced in his hands, trying to overcome another hit of nausea.

He wouldn't exactly say he tried super hard to keep the cereal bar down, but it wasn't deliberate when he vomited it down the front of his shirt.

"Oh! Aw jeez..." Morty winced.

"I did warn you."

"In our defense, you had every reason to be lying to us."

"Fuck you, Summer." It sounded weak even to his own ears.

She sighed softly.

"Morty, get his shirt off. Do you have pijamas or do you sleep in jeans and a lab coat?"

"Jeans an-and a lab coat."

"...I was joking, but okay." Summer said, flipping the switch that opened Rick's garage closet and grabbing one of his sets of identical outfits.

Rick squirmed, making noises of complaint as Morty tried to take off his current shirt.

"Rick– stay still, you have vomit on your clothes."

"I'm not fucking two years old, Morty." He scowled. "I can change by myself."

Rick tried to sit up but wobbled and then slumped back against the wall, needing more time to recover. Morty reached for his shirt again and this time Rick let him pull it carefully up over his head without resisting. Morty took the new set of clothes from where Summer had left them on the floor next to him.

Summer wasn't looking but Morty still shielded Rick's body from sight with his own, pointedly not mentioning the raised scars and jagged, angry, red cuts littering his arms which he had already suspected would be there.

Rick shifted uncomfortably, seeming relieved when Morty didn't want to talk about it.

"Okay." Morty said, helping Rick pull on his clean lab coat too.

"I'm going to bed." Rick grumbled, not waiting for him to continue, just getting up slowly.

He felt weak and shaky and his brittle old bones weren't exactly helping out. Despite his thousands of cybernetic implants he was still human, much to his dismay, and he couldn't treat his body as badly as he did when he was 30. Not that that ever seemed to stop him, managing to still maintain the same shitty habits he'd had for years at the ripe age of 67.

He stumbled through the dining room, Morty and Summer trailing after him, not discouraged by the glare he sent their way.

As soon as he reached his room, he slumped onto his bed with a groan.

"R-rick?"

"Fuck off, Morty." He snapped into his pillow, a little muffled by it.

Morty hesitated, exchanging a glance with Summer, who shrugged.

"...Ookay, Rick. Uh, see– see you at dinner, today? maybe?'

"Don't count on it."

Summer frowned, Starting to say something, but Rick interrupted, "I'm gonna apply my room's Lock Protocols in ten seconds, so i-if you're still in here, I'm not letting you out until I'm done sleeping. A-a-and if you're standing in the doorway, you're gonna get fucking squashed in the doors."

"Whatever, Rick, fuck you too." Summer huffed, pulling Morty out of the doorway with her.

"Room, activate Sensory Protocol 2. And t-tell Summer to go fuck herself."

"Sensory Protocol 2 activated." Came the mechanical voice and a heavy metal door snapped shut. "Go fuck yourself, Summer."

Summer scoffed. "Dick." Followed by a sigh. "What are we gonna do?"

"I-I don't know." Morty admitted. "There's not much we can do if Rick won't accept help. And he won't."

"So what? We just give up on him?" Summer asked accusingly, putting her hands on her hips.

"No, Summer, J-jeez. I just– We're gonna have to get creative."

"Fuck."

---

thats it thats the end i didnt know how tf to end this but my goal wasnt to rewrite like the bible idfk it was just to put rick through shit and put completely unfair expectations on summer and mortys shoulders so that they could ALL suffer in this fic !! :3 also this is so mf long i sincerely apologise if u read all that

[sciderman]

Sci beloved what do you think Peter and El's dynamic would be like?

el? gonna assume you mean eleanor... my darling... oh...

i'm honestly so obsessed with eleanor and peter's dynamic already - peter is just immediately fond of her. he just, he likes her right off the bat. she's charismatic, and brave, and peter knows it right out of the gate.

peter's so ready to sign those adoption papers. he loves eleanor already. she's everything that he loves in wade.

peter's perpetually in eleanor's corner - he's the soft-willed fun parent - if she can't get her way with wade, she'll run to peter and know that he literally cannot say no.

he thinks that means he's the favourite, but eleanor is a master manipulator just like her biological father and knows exactly who to talk to and what to say to get everything she wants. so if she knows she won't win with wade, she'll trick peter into her bidding. peter is but a naïve pawn in eleanor's games. he believes she can do no wrong, even though every ounce of wade wilson's wickedness courses through her veins. and sometimes eleanor double crosses peter. she has no loyalty. it shocks peter to his core, every time, but she's one step ahead of him, every time.

i can't wait for you guys to see how diabolical eleanor is going to be. oh my god. ohhh my god. see, peter and wade both have dormant supervillain potential within them that they suppress, but eleanor's supervillain gene is Active and she is a Horror.

[sigurdjarlson]

I always found that sweet how a lot of the time in TLG Med would jump to reassure Khadgar or even apologize after snapping at him

And yet in some ways the cruelest thing Medivh said to Khadgar in my opinion was correcting him when he called Karazhan “Our Tower.” And reminding him he was there at his whim and he could send him away at any time.

And he never did apologize for that one and honestly I don’t really blame Med for that per se? It is his tower and Khadgar can’t tell him who is allowed there. What I mean is going by JUST the power dynamic they have as mentor-apprentice, Khadgar is absolutely out of line there

In some ways could have come off quite spoiled and entitled but the thing is I don’t think that was the case at all.

He’s become so comfortable in Karazhan he’d started thinking of it as his home. Then Medivh has in one conversation reminded him it very much was not his home and he could send him away at anytime if he so wished it

He’d finally found someone who cared about him, respected him and treated him as a person. He found a place where he felt he belonged for once in his life and…

No wonder he was so jealous of Garona for a while after that. He’d been reminded that all of it could be taken from him at any moment and here was someone stealing his Master’s attention.

Just thinking about how that jealousy so obviously comes with feeling like he’s not enough and insecurity about his place in Med’s life.

Just very interesting how I think it could very well have went over Med’s head as not that big of a deal too? One of those things he’d be like huh oh yeah I said that? Meanwhile Khadgar is spiraling about it

He could of also been absolutely aware of how harsh it was because Medivh does lash out like that on occasion (especially towards the end of the book as Sargeras gets harder and harder to fight) he can be a little shit we know this

(Don’t really blame him for that given being possessed by the demon lord Sargeras is probably just a teensy bit tiring /s)

Also seen valid and honestly very possibly canon interpretations where he’s also trying to push Khadgar away cuz he knows what’s coming and what Khadgar is going to have to do.

The more attached to him he is the more difficult it will be for Khadgar to do what needs to be done.

What better way to push someone away then hit them right where it hurts?

And yet even then I think those words hurt Khadgar deeper than he’ll ever know :(

[clegfly]

Thought I had today that I decided to doodle. Oh em gee I wonder what musical cleg’s been obsessing over for the last like month

[eleftherian]

ok but what if i dont want a world without sharona? what if i dont want her to leave huh? did you ever think about that??

[altaiiriss]

idk what to ask honestly 😬 what was the inspiration behind ur last shortfic?

i'm assuming you're talking about the beast one? (i'm ngl i don't consider that to be a shortfic because it's way too short but. come to think of it it might count as a shortfic. well ANYWAY)

actually i shared this concept in a bunch of tweets last year; i just expanded on it because this magical app has no character limit (yay)

on a serious note, i'm a sucker for possessive dazai and in my opinion beast dazai would be way WORSE than canon dazai when it comes to chuuya. the bond they share in beast is so achingly devastating, and the boss/right-hand man hierarchy makes it 100x hotter 🙂‍↕️

[sunshinerotting]

when i stop being irrational in like a week ohhh buddy. ooooh man. something will happen probably

[distantandimpersonalscenery]

i understand the case reasons for it but the episode where larry leaves charlie being called brutus.... well......

[panhelleniios]

at some point I absolutely need to delve into herc's anxiety and personal issues surrounding parenthood. like this man probably has a ton of illegitimate kids out there of all ages that he's never acknowledged (though he sends money to their families because even if he didn't want a connection during his wilder years, he still ... cares. in a way.) one of his best friends is a pseudo son / younger brother figure — though he'll never admit that. he has a soft spot for kids (this man founded an orphanage / children's hospital for young monsters) but gods forbid he comes face to face with one of his own. that's terrifying. that's responsiblity that he's unsure he can handle. but maybe now that he's sober ...

[monochromelullaby]

I read happy hardcore hexidream last night, and on the one hand I can absolutely see the horror elements, the abusive behaviors, the trauma responses.

On the other hand. Agere braincell looks at Hexi and is like 'oh but that could be a good caregiver right there'

[friedapplejuice]

i’m so possessive it’s ridiculous. sometimes it scares me a little. what’s mine is mine and i don’t fucking share. i hate that about myself. i don’t act on it; i’m acutely aware of it and i keep myself in check, but it’s such a strong feeling that it’s hard to beat back.

[myun-saidthoughts]

❦♡❦♡ Astrology Observations ❦♡❦♡

❥Dominant un-evolved Libra/7th house placements prioritize romantic partners over platonic relationships. The amount of depth or care that they allow themselves to feel is curated for their partner, and no matter how much consideration or care you show them, the amount of depth they will allow in from you is limited.

❥For Aquarius Moons (or dominant Aquarians) the root of many long-term struggles lies in how they respond to discomfort—by default, they tend to avoid it, which only delays growth and resolution.

❥1st House Chiron (maybe Pluto depending on other factors in the chart) can create the native to have deep self worth issues around their self image. They could lack confidence and there's often times dilemmas on how they "should" act or "should" look based on how others treated them.

❥If the native's Sun has little to no aspects in their birth chart, the chance that their Father is either emotionally or physically absent is likely, especially if the Sun is in the 7th, 10th or 12th house.

❥Nessus (the asteroid) aspecting the Sun, Moon, Mercury, Mars, Venus or the Ascendant indicates the native has dealt with deep abuse with the people they are closest with in their life. This abuse has fundamentally shaped them to become the person they are today.

Sun

Abuse from the father or dominant parental figure

Ego wounds; struggles with self-confidence and identity

Difficulty asserting autonomy; fear of being alone or independent

Potential for codependent behavior rooted in early validation issues

Moon

Abuse from the mother or maternal figure

Emotional manipulation, neglect, or inconsistency

Victim mindset or emotional enmeshment is common (your mother may have shown those traits early on in your life)

May struggle with emotional regulation and safety

Mercury

Abuse from siblings or through verbal communication

Childhood pain transferred into sibling dynamics

Parental abuse may distort thought processes or communication patterns

Mental overstimulation or inner criticism may stem from early verbal harm

Mars

Physical abuse or exposure to violence

Aggression as a learned coping mechanism

Impulsive, reactive behavior tied to unresolved rage from upbringing

Prone to conflict or projecting anger when triggered emotionally

Venus

Abuse from romantic partners or through love and affection

Tendency to seek self-worth through others

Attracting unhealthy relationships due to unhealed abandonment wounds

Love becomes a battlefield for reenacting early trauma

Ascendant

Abuse tied to early childhood and identity formation

The trauma is deeply embedded in how one shows up in the world, the abuse feels foundational, like it shaped your core self

Can manifest as self-protection, masking, or people-pleasing

Deep-rooted need to protect yourself; hyper-awareness of how others perceive you

Can result in either shrinking away from attention or overcompensating through control

❥Air and Fire dominant natives become bored with romantic connections quite quickly when there's no mental stimulation or attraction. Fire Venus/Asc/Mars will stick it out for the most part if there's genuine physical attraction. However Air dominant natives especially Venus/Asc/Mars will likely leave a connection if there's not enough conversation or playfulness involved.

❥Neptune conjunct Descendant can indicate a tendency to be deceived by romantic partners. They may choose partners who withhold a part of themselves, or they have 'rose colored glasses' towards individuals who are not healthy minded. They may see the red flags but ultimately chooses to ignore or give them the benefit of the doubt and forgive very easily. Especially if Neptune makes harsh aspects to the Sun, Moon, Venus or Mars.

❥Mars + Uranus + Pluto in the 5th House can indicate a tendency to form a gambling addiction. It also can showcase an intense need for outside fun, stimulation or adrenaline.

❥A native with an 11th house in Scorpio may experience pain or hardship when forming friendships or when it comes to finding a sense of community—especially if the Moon, Chiron, Saturn, or Pluto is present. The friendships they attract often bring intense lessons around self-worth and self-love. Compared to others, they may find it more difficult to build and maintain friendships, and might also rely more heavily on their friends for emotional support or validation.

❥Scorpio/8th house Moon individuals can have a harsh and emotional distant relationship with their Mother. Either the mother was emotionally abusive, narcissistic, absent or cold (depending on the sign). As the native matures, their relationship with the mother may improve. However, in early childhood, the native likely experienced emotional absence or instability from her.

❥Aries/6th House placements prioritize the gym more than other placements. Routine and a consistent workout schedule mentally calms their mind. They feel their best when they are at the gym, or when they are doing physical self care, such as facials, yoga, pilates, cardio, practicing a fixed diet, and so fourth.

❥5th/10th/11th House Moon, Venus, Sun, Mercury, Libra/Pisces placements are naturally in the Universes favor when it comes to gaining fame online or being noted for their beauty. Their appearance is favored on camera and the chances of gaining popularity online is very likely. They also may have incredibly soft skin and are blessed with facial genetics.

❥12th House placements especially Chiron, Venus, and Lilith often attract unwarranted animosity or jealousy from others. These individuals frequently become targets of projection and are blamed for actions they haven’t committed. They either speak up and are punished for it, or stay silent and are misunderstood. Others often driven by insecurity—construct false narratives about who they are.

As a woman, other girls may misconstrue your character, often withholding trust or projecting unwarranted animosity—especially if they feel you threaten their relationship with a partner or romantic interest. Their insecurities cast you as the villain, leading to you being reprimanded for actions you never took. They might label your behavior as “fake” or inauthentic, causing you to question yourself. Even if you know deep down that these narratives are false, the consistency of these experiences can make you wonder if there’s any truth to their accusations. Constant gossip could occur where these girls talk behind your back and nothing is every stated to your face, if you were to ask where their animosity stems from they will say "Just because."

Insecure boys may treat you poorly as a reflection of their own inner wounds. They might desire you but resent the fact that they can’t have you, which leads them to act cold, dismissive, or rude. Some may react with anger or irritation to your natural behavior simply because you don’t reciprocate their interest. On the opposite end of the spectrum, others may idealize you—seeing you as an “angel” or someone who can do no wrong. If there are aspects of you that remain a mystery, or if little is known about you publicly, they may fill in the blanks with fantasies or projections. You could be deeply admired without even knowing it. Groups of boys may talk about you behind your back, viewing you as a prize or someone unattainably special, yet never expressing these feelings to your face.

❥12th house Stellium vs 5th house Stellium: Both can do the same action, say the same comment and do the same exact thing; however the 5th house native will receive grace and prolonged consideration for their action while the 12th house native will experience backlash, gossip, and repercussions.

❥Moon/Venus opposite Uranus natives oftentimes struggle with consist relationships or monogamy. They may be drawn to polyamorous relationships or place romantic connections at the bottom of their priority list (especially if they are an avoidant or struggle with emotional vulnerability/intimacy). They may desire a partner in one moment then become completely disinterested in the next. This has to do with the fact that their Mother was often erratic or irrational when it came to the natives needs. One moment the mother was emotionally/physically present, and in the next completely fixated on their own needs and desires. So now, consistency forms as red flags and can even create boredom for the native. They may always be on the go or prefer to change scenery. Stagnation creates uncomfortability especially if they have 9th house placements.

❥8th house/Pluto synastry — especially when you carry deep wounds around self-worth, love, value, and abandonment — can feel very similar to the peace people describe during near-death experiences.

When someone’s Pluto touches your personal planets or activates your 8th house, the feeling isn’t just healing — it’s otherworldly. There's suddenly no more abandonment wounds, no more aching past; the deeper your wound, the more powerful their presence will feel.

8th house/Pluto synastry mirrors this freeing frequency, and it's the one your soul knows intimately, the one your consciousness is most familiar with and that's why this person will feel like "home."

❥12th House Venus natives often hold onto the ‘what ifs’ of a connection because the lingering longing creates an illusion of love. This longing allows them to feel as if the person once chose them, and they cling to that imagined moment for comfort. Longing becomes familiar—safe—because, deep down, they know it’s someone they likely can’t have. In truth, these natives often fear real, reciprocal emotional intimacy. They would rather idealize a connection from afar than face the vulnerability of having one.

❥A Leo Moon/Venus combined with a Virgo Sun and Rising can create a complex relationship with praise and recognition.

The native may crave validation and admiration to feel emotionally secure, yet struggle to truly receive it. Deep down, they long to be seen — not just for what they do, but for who they are. Still, Virgo’s influence brings a strong inner critic and a constant push for perfection. As a result, even when recognition is given, they may feel undeserving, leading to imposter syndrome. The tension between their need for appreciation and their fear of falling short can make it hard to embrace success without self-doubt.

[dearlenore]

ARREST ME BUT MAKE IT SEXY2 / S.REID / SUMMARY - Spencer rescues a very annoying agent

PAIRING: agent!reader x spencer reid / w/c: 1.4k / fluff

a/n: shoutout to @cheriesbucky for being the absolute ANGEL who suggested this

The basement was dim, damp, and reeked of mold and motor oil. The ropes around your wrists were tight but not impossible—you’d been trained for worse. Still, that didn’t mean you weren’t pissed.

“What is it with unsubs and bad lighting?” you muttered, shifting in the old wooden chair you were tied to. “What, the budget didn’t cover lightbulbs?”

Across the room, your kidnapper paced. He wasn’t particularly bright, though he thought he was. That was always the worst kind—delusional with a God complex and a knife.

“I thought you fed types were supposed to be smart,” he sneered, stopping just a few feet from you.

You raised a brow. “I am. You, however, kidnapped a federal agent in the middle of a BAU investigation. Not really a Mensa moment.”

He didn’t like that. Predictably, he stormed over and gripped the collar of your button-down shirt, yanking it hard enough to pop two buttons free. His hand hovered, threatening, over your chest.

You blinked once. “Oh wow, you’re so original. What’s next, a villain monologue? Maybe some unnecessary backstory about your mommy issues?”

The unsub froze.

Then scowled.

Then stepped back with a growl. “You don’t know anything.”

You smiled sweetly. “Honey, I know you have abandonment issues, a need for control, and a probable inferiority complex stemming from a middle-child dynamic. Also, you smell like Axe body spray and microwaveable regret.”

Another button popped off.

You gasped. “Sir, if you ruin this shirt, you’re paying for it. This is government issued polyester. You have no idea how itchy this is.”

The door upstairs creaked open.

You went silent.

Heavy boot steps followed.

And then—

“FBI!” Morgan’s voice rang out.

The unsub spun, panicked. You smirked.

“You’re in so much trouble,” you sing-songed.

The door burst open a second later, and suddenly the room was swarmed. Morgan tackled the unsub to the ground in one fluid motion. Hotch shouted for backup. Emily kicked the knife away. And then—then—Spencer.

He moved straight to you, eyes scanning your face, chest heaving like he’d just run a marathon. His hands shook as he began untying your wrists.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice tight with concern.

You gave him a tired smile. “Other than the fact that I’m missing three buttons and I’m pretty sure this chair gave me a splinter in a very personal place? Peachy.”

He let out a soft huff of laughter, his fingers brushing over your skin a little longer than necessary as he helped you stand.

You wobbled slightly. He caught you instantly.

“Easy,” he murmured, his hand steady on your waist.

“Oh, Doctor Reid,” you said, blinking up at him dramatically. “Are you trying to sweep me off my feet?”

The tips of his ears turned pink.

“Stop flirting,” Emily called as she cuffed the unsub.

“I’m barely flirting,” you replied, leaning a little more into Spencer just to be a menace. “Let the woman have her trauma bonding.”

Hotch sighed from somewhere near the doorway. “Let’s get her out of here before she drives us all insane.”

Spencer’s arm stayed around you even as he walked you out. The sunlight hit your face, and you winced, then immediately leaned into him again. Maybe you didn’t need the support, but you sure as hell weren’t going to waste the moment.

“So,” you said softly, “you missed me?”

He chuckled. “You were gone for three hours.”

You smiled. “Admit it. That was the worst three hours of your life.”

He didn’t answer right away. Just tightened his hold a little, letting it speak for him.

Yeah. You were definitely going to milk this for all it was worth. Especially when he insisted you stay with him that night.

Spencer’s apartment was… exactly what you expected. Books lined every wall. Some were stacked in leaning towers like paper skyscrapers. A chessboard sat mid-game near the window. The place was warm, in that “lives alone but makes tea for two” kind of way.

You flopped onto his couch with zero hesitation, legs kicking up as you groaned dramatically. “If I never see rope again, it’ll be too soon.”

Spencer hovered awkwardly by the door, keys still in hand, like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with you now that he had you.

“Are you… okay?” he asked finally, stepping closer.

You looked over your shoulder at him, feigning offense. “Reid. I was kidnapped, threatened, manhandled—and you’re asking if I’m okay? After you made me sleep on this crime-against-furniture of a couch instead of your bed?”

His eyes went wide. “Wait—I didn’t make you sleep here. You didn’t even ask to—”

You burst into a laugh. “Relax, Doctor. I’m teasing. Unless you’re offering.”

His ears turned pink again. You were starting to consider it a competitive sport.

“You should eat something,” he said quickly, trying to change the subject. “I have, um… crackers?”

You raised a brow. “Crackers? Wow, what a luxurious meal. Do you woo all your guests like this?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “I wasn’t expecting guests.”

You smiled and sat up. “I’ll allow it. But only because you have very charming bookshelves.”

He gestured toward the kitchen. “Seriously, though. Want tea?”

You nodded, stretching. “As long as I don’t have to brew it myself. I’ve been through enough.”

He disappeared into the kitchen, and for a moment, you let yourself actually relax. The adrenaline was gone. The aches were settling in. And beneath it all was that heavy, quiet awareness: you could’ve died today.

Spencer returned a few minutes later with two mismatched mugs. He handed you one and sat beside you—not too close, but not far, either. He smelled like books and peppermint and something just… safe.

You sipped. “Mint chamomile? What a romantic.”

He smiled softly, eyes flicking toward yours. “You’re handling this well.”

You looked at him over the rim of your mug. “You say that like you expected me to fall apart.”

“I didn’t,” he said quickly. “I just mean… most people would still be shaken up. But you’re still making jokes.”

You set the mug down and leaned in a little. “Wanna know a secret?”

He sighed and gave an expression that read, “hit me, what is it this time.”

You lowered your voice. “I make jokes when I’m terrified.”

His brow furrowed, just a little. “So… you were scared?”

You paused, then nodded. “Of course I was. But I knew you guys would come for me. Knew you would.”

He blinked, caught off guard. “Me?”

“You didn’t exactly hide your interest in the interrogation room, genius,” you teased. “And I might’ve been unconscious when you found me, but I remember your voice. First thing I heard when I came to. Sounded really… relieved.”

A flush crept up his neck. “I was.”

Something shifted then—just a little. The air between you slowed, softened. He looked at you like you were a riddle he was afraid to solve. You looked back like you wanted to be figured out.

“Spencer,” you said softly, “can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“Are you always this gentle with people?” Your voice was quieter now. Less performative. “Or is it just me?”

His breath caught.

Then, just as quietly, he said, “It’s not just you.”

A beat.

“But it’s different with you.”

Your heart did a slow, dangerous turn.

Before either of you could say more, a roll of thunder cracked outside. Rain began tapping the windows like fingers on glass.

You sighed dramatically. “Well, now you have to let me stay the night. What kind of profiler kicks a traumatized woman out into a thunderstorm?”

He laughed under his breath. “You can stay as long as you want.”

You smiled. “Dangerous words, Reid. I might never leave.”

And for the first time since the kidnapping, something in your chest unclenched. Not just because you were safe, but because… maybe you were exactly where you needed to be.