#This wasn't the route I meant to take but OKAY THEN-

[uranometrias]

✮ꜜ : ❛ now i see daylight : spencer reid x fem! reader

pairing: spencer reid x fem! reader

summary: three weeks have gone by since your last encounter with reid. you'd both been doing an exceptional job of pretending that the other didn't exist. you felt like it was only fair. he didn't have the right to talk to you any type of way, and you supposed in his mind, you didn't have the right to behave so jealously. three weeks of no ground being made, that is, of course, until a conversation with rossi helps to screw your head on straight

content warnings: love confessions. reader definitely has anxiety and a fear of romance/relationships, BUT she fights her fear! i also think it's fair to say that she views telling spencer about her feelings as facing her fear, regardless of his response! this is part two to 'guilt is a motherfucker'.... i'm so sorry it's taken forever, but i've actually preparing to enlist in the army && haven't had a lot of down time. i've got 10 drafts to prove it, but i tried my best to make this longer than part one, and i hope that you guys enjoy it.

Grow up.

Those words had haunted you for about three weeks. It'd been that long since the day you and Spencer had sort of... drifted apart. You refused to blame yourself, despite knowing full well this whole ordeal was majorly your fault. Okay, all of the blame very well rested on your shoulders, but you were stubborn. You'd been that way forever.

Maybe you were the childish, scared, and jealous little girl he'd accused you of being. That wasn't your job to figure out, because he had no business speaking to you that way. Who did he think he was? You could hit him right in his stupid little face. That last thought of violence seems to follow you.

Especially as you sat as your desk, leg bouncing furiously underneath as you counted the seconds until he was away from the kitchenette. Your cup of coffee was dwindling, and you still had a few more files to get through, before you'd give yourself room to slack off. You needed more caffeine, but the newfound thorn in your side was taking up space, using up all the sugar as he made his third cup of the day.

A more mature person might have questioned why you didn't just go up there anyway. He didn't own the kitchenette, and it wasn't like you had to say anything at all. It was meant to be cut-and-dry, you were both mature adults, you could interact as such. Except neither of you were quite as mature as you affronted. You could just picture the screwed up expression he'd offer you if you chose to approach.

You were certain your face was already twisted up, showing off your own annoyance, and he wasn't even near you.

You'd been berated by Derek, Emily, and Penelope over your petty streak, all three parties really driving in the point that you were behaving like a toddler throwing a tantrum. They had a point, but you also refused to accept any such criticism about your behavior. Partly, because you hated correction, and you didn't want to think about the possibility that all of your friends were on his side.

But you think most of your refusal to accept your part from any of them had a lot to do with the fact that they weren't the ones who'd been so callously humiliated, and they weren't the ones with feelings for someone who obviously knew, and was perfectly content flaunting such knowledge right in your face.

God, you could punt him like a football.

You needed to work on your insult creativity, these were starting to get repetitive. You shake all thoughts of assault out of your mind as Dave begins to approach your desk. Rossi wasn't stupid, he like everyone else had noticed the significant decline in attention passed between you, and Reid. But unlike the rowdier members of the team, he and JJ had elected to go the route of silent but deadly.

They'd cast the both of you disapproving looks when in rare form you'd allowed your spat to affect your job. Their clear disappointment in you exceptionally loud. Times like those were sparce, you really only ever objected obedience when Hotch insisted on partnering the both of you up. Which had luckily become much more rare in the last few weeks.

"Still pouting, angioletto?" he asks, and his ability to read right through you seems to make your pout deepen. "It's been three weeks, don't you think it's time to talk about it or move on?" he questions, and there's no judgement there. It's what you like the most about Rossi, he seemed to have fallen into the role of paternal figure incredibly well. He gave you the tough love that you often needed.

But he never disrespected your boundaries, he never went too far. He'd always say just enough to nudge you in the right direction.

"Maybe." you agree, and it's true. You know it's time to put this situation behind you in one way or another, but you refused to cave first. You didn't want to give Spencer the satisfaction of it, and once again you're made aware of just how petty you really were. "But I don't want to." you voice this thought to Dave, who offers an unamused expression. You narrow your eyes in his direction.

"He's the one that started it..." you exclaim your side for the umpteenth time. Rossi's expression doesn't morph, but there is a bit of disappointment swimming in his eyes. It makes you avert your gaze quickly, you could feel the first pinpricks of guilt slicing at you. "It's true." you insist. Rossi waves a tired hand at you, ushering you to proceed, and you find yourself grateful for the chance to vent.

Everyone else knew too much about the behind the scenes to let you get a word in edgewise. Rossi was basically a clean slate. "If he knew all along, what he thinks he knows..." you stop long enough to look towards the kitchenette. He's still there, which is a relief, you'd be pissed if somehow he managed to overhear this. "Then why would he come over here and flaunt it. Was he trying to rub it in?" you demand.

Silly you for thinking that Rossi would be any less on your ass than the rest of the team. He was David Rossi after all, one of the founders of the BAU, a smart man that could read you like a picture book. "You finished?" he asks, and your mouth parts. You weren't finished, but you don't tell him that, he looked like he was ready to lecture. You offer a curt nod, and he hums under his breath.

"What exactly were you expecting from him, Y/N?" he asks, and you blanche. You weren't expecting anything, you'd never expected anything from Spencer. "I mean just stick with me here... put yourself in his shoes for one second." he prompts, and you huff. Those were big shoes, probably uncomfortable. Still, you play along as you wait for Rossi to proceed. "Would you wait around for two years for someone to finally realize that they want to be with you?" he asks.

You hope that it's rhetorical, because the answer for you was probably a lot different than the one he was expecting. You also feel the urge to correct him, you didn't take two years to figure out you liked him, you'd known since your first day. Your issue was verbalizing it, because you cared about your bond. Spencer was nice, he was the sweetest person you'd ever met. You liked seeing him get excited about the things no one else seemed to care about. He was different.

He was your friend, and you had always admired him.

"I wasn't making him wait..." you voice the correction. "And I didn't need time to realize anything..." you trail off, and realization seems to set in for Rossi. He sighs deeply, head shaking as you continue on your tangent. "I liked him back when all the girls in the unit still looked at him like he was some freak, and I'm not saying it entitles me to anything... I'm the dummy for being a chicken, but he didn't have to be so mean." and you're certain that's the root of it all.

Your feelings were hurt.

"Ah, well haven't you heard? Boys are quite stupid." Rossi offers, and you think he only said it to get you to laugh. It works, because you do chuckle, and it makes Dave's shoulders relax just slightly. "Talk to him, Y/N." he presses, and you find yourself looking across the bullpen. "It's the right thing to do." and you know he's right. "And who knows, it might even wind up being for the best." he offers, and you blanch. You nod your head, and Rossi beams proudly.

"You're right." you agree audibly, and you're fidgeting in your chair.

"You are coming this Friday aren't you?" Rossi pries, and you've gone nonverbal, head nodding once more as he mimics your action. "See if you guys can't get this squared away before then, won't you?" he asks, and he's leaving you with a gentle pat on the shoulder. You stare after Rossi with a mixture of disdain and appreciation. Leave it to the old man to get you off your ass. Your eyes are drawn to Spencer as he draws closer, you know he's not coming to you.

It was a byproduct of your desk location, but it wouldn't hurt to use it to your advantage. When he's within earshot, you take the first step. "Spence?" you try, and you expect him to ignore you, to keep walking like the sassy bastard that he is, but he shocks you. He seems to mirror your feelings with his own surprised expression. "Can we talk?" you try, and it's the cliche thing... but you don't have it in you to be poetic. He stops abruptly, head nodding stiffly as he does so.

You feel like you need to stand up, having him stand over you feels too much like you're being cornered or something of the sort. He takes a small step back when you do so though, and the tension seems to only grow tenfold. You mask your disappointment in his retreat easily, instead standing up a bit straighter, sticking your chin out as you prepare to bite the bullet and be the bigger woman. It was utterly humiliating having to bring yourself back to Earth like this.

"Sure." he finally verbally answers your question, you take that as a cue to get on with it. Your patience for back and forth seemed almost as thin as his.

"Maybe it's three weeks too late..." you begin, and his eyebrows furrow. "And I know we've got this new rhythm of pretending we don't exist to each other," and his face betrays how wrong he finds that statement. His face pinches up like he's smelled something bad, and he wants to remind you that the only reason you hadn't spoken was because you hadn't had the guts to own up to the fact that you had feelings for him, but he digresses. He wasn't here to pick a fight.

"But, I'm sorry...." you spit the apology out and it feels hollow. You know you have to do better, so you proceed before he can shoot you a disapproving glance. "I really am." you insist, and despite the fact that you had only just begun to feel guilty about the whole thing in the last few minutes, you meant it. "I never should've acted like that, and I never should have let this go on for so long." you express.

Across the bullpen, Rossi, Penelope, Derek, and Emily are huddled up watching the exchange, not so discreetly. You're none the wiser to your growing audience, but Spencer sees them clearly. Not that they were really aiming for subtlety. "It's not my business what you do outside of work or who you do it with." and your nose curls, mostly because you want it to be your business. You want to be valid in your aggravation, more than that you wanted to be his. How annoying.

Your leg starts to shake just barely, and you look like you'll crumble to the ground at any moment. Spencer notices all of these ticks, and stores them into the part of his brain that's full of things specific to you. "So I'm sorry that I was being a jerk." you offer, and Spencer's face doesn't show any signs of whether or not he believed you, so you continue. "I'm happy for you." you clear your throat, and feel embarrassment setting in.

"Thanks, Y/N." his head tips to the right as he appraises you, his eyes narrowing slightly as he takes you in. It's not a menacing sort of glance. He seemed to be waiting for something else, you weren't sure what more could be put into your apology, there was no way you were about to give an outright confession, that'd be humiliating. Instead, you avert your gaze, and it seems to be enough of an answer to whatever internal question he had. "That actually means a lot."

You don't smile, mostly because you're not sure what the actually means, he seems to notice the way your expression changes just slightly, and he's quick to correct himself.

"I just mean that your approval does mean a lot to me." he says, and you relax. You can't quite beam, you're still not up for it, but you offer a small smile, one that could count more as a grimace than anything else, but you weren't in the headspace to monitor your facial expressions. You were growing bothered all over again, and you had to do everything in your power to ensure that this time things didn't end with another three-week break between you and Spencer.

"Really?"

Spencer's nose curls now, he's an expressive guy. His facials said a lot more than his words could at times, and you note that this particular expressions reads somewhere between confused and surprised. Those were almost synonyms in the grand scheme of things, right? "Is that a real question?" Spencer asks, and despite the tension that hung over you at the start of the conversation, with this question you witness the way his guard drops. It was liberating in a way.

"I asked it didn't I?" you quip, but there's no real bite behind your words. Spencer seems to note this, lips pressing together firmly.

"You're important to me." he promises, and you hate that his first reaction is to validate you. Your anxiety-riddled mind would convince you that he secretly thought you were fishing for praise, which was the farthest thing from the truth. Still, you love Spencer, platonically and otherwise, and you're certain that's why you're mimicking his words back to him so quickly.

"You're important to me too."

He takes a second to stare at you, and you stare right back. You're careful not to show any signs of timidity or awkwardness, things were finally starting to look up. "I..." he begins, and you stay silent to allow him the time he needs to get whatever was on his chest off. "I'm sorry." he says, and you're surprised. It was the last thing you'd expected from this conversation, you're certain your surprise is evident plain as day on your face.

"Yeah?" you feel it's only fair to press him onward.

"Jealous little girl." he cringes as he repeats it, and you wince because it still hurts. "That was-" he shakes his head. "It was out of line. Plain and simple, I guess I was just a little frustrated, but that's not your fault. It wasn't fair of me to come at you in that way." he begins to ramble. "I wouldn't want you to feel... mocked or belittled by me." and you blink. Mostly because that was exactly how you had felt, but how did he know. It's then that you finally feel the beady-eyed stares.

You look over your shoulder just in time to witness the group dispersing, Penelope grasping a file in her hand as she scurried in the opposite direction. Derek picking up a file folder, and Emily focusing all her attention on the drink sloshing around her mug. You really hate profilers, this is the loudest thought in your head as you turn back to Spencer. "It doesn't matter if I felt justified then, or even if I feel justified about it now." and it makes you snort.

Classic Spence.

"D-Do you forgive me? Are we okay?" he asks, and his voice has grown a bit fainter. If you listen hard enough you hear the echoes of the Spencer you first met. Even with all his strides, and the confidence he gained, there was still that small part of him that felt like the nerdy boy that everyone overlooked. The one that talked too much, and was constantly silenced with looks or snide remarks whenever he rambled for too long about some niche subject.

You think this train of thought is what gets you to see Rossi's point of view. And who were you to get in the way of someone who clearly was ready for someone as amazing as Spencer. You didn't know much about the woman, aside from the fact that she was constantly making coffee, and staring at Spencer. You didn't know how long she'd worked at the bureau, you didn't even know her name, but you knew that she was brave. She knew what she wanted and got it.

Unlike you.

You suppose 'snooze you lose' is your burden to carry from this ordeal. At least you'd gotten your friend back though. And that was enough, it could be anyway. You nod your head at his question, offering a half smile. "We're okay, Spence." you promise, and he seems relieved. His smile is one of those rare ones, the gorgeous kind that Spencer reserved for special occasions. He then visibly and audibly lets out a quiet sound of relief, and it makes you relax.

"Hey, Spence, can I get your help?" JJ is calling, and your pulled from your bubble. The world is still spinning, there's still work to do, pressing matters that needed your attention. You felt a little lighter, offering another half smile as he offers you a sheepish glance. He's heading towards JJ as you sit back down at your desk. Your leg bounces despite the perceived 'win'. It only takes you a moment to wonder why, reality sets in, and you realize your shortcomings.

You'd failed the test twice.

Twice you'd had the chance to be the most open and honest with Spencer, only to let your nerves or fear of rejection get in the way. The jealousy is gone now though, instead replaced with a brief feeling of self-aggravation. You hear Dave's stern voice in your head. 'Talk to him, Y/N.' and you frown. Hadn't that been what you'd done? You'd talked to him, so why did you still feel so bummed.

Why don't you just talk to the guy? Look him in the eye and tell him straight up how you're feeling? Derek's question from three weeks prior slaps you like a ton of bricks. You supposed that was the end goal, wasn't it? The only way to relieve yourself of all this anxiety and all the big feelings you were having a hard time digesting. You're back to pouting, mostly because you've got no idea where to start.

You pick up one of your files, and flip it open, hoping to bury yourself in work. Every time your mind tried to stray to Spencer or your feelings, you'd switch files, until all twenty-five on your desk had a dent in them. Your hand was cramped, and you know that soon enough you'll need a cup of coffee. Emily approaches your desk, hands centered as she leans forward, eyes right on you.

"So how did it go?" she asks, and you cut your eyes at her. "Tension's all gone, so it must have gone well, right?" she's grinning down at you. "I told you if you told him the truth, you'd have nothing to worry about." Emily proceeds, and you're shaking your head back and forth.

"Emily... Emily, no!" you exclaim, and her smile drops.

"No? What do you mean, no?" she demands as you exhale.

"I still haven't told him, and I'd really appreciate it, if you'd lower your voice." you hiss as she pouts. "Maybe it's just not supposed to be." you shrug, and Emily looks visibly disgruntled with your thoughts. "I'm just saying... we're okay, because we apologized." you explain. "I don't want to risk making it awkward again, because I think I have feelings." and now you're being purposely dismissive.

"Oh, so now you're not sure?" Emily questions, and then she's clicking her tongue against her teeth. "No. I don't buy that." she denies, and she's stern, but discrete. "Don't do this, Y/N. Don't be that girl." she pleads. "There's nothing worse than regret. It eats at you until there's nothing left, you don't want to look back, and think 'what if!'" and that's twice you're hearing something of the sort. Wasn't there some quote about hearing important things twice? You're not sure.

"If you like him-" she pauses, head still shaking from side to side. "If you love him... like it seems, you owe it to yourself to tell him. What's the worst thing that could happen?" she questions, and you scoff. "No, realistically." she insists. "Realistically tell me what the worst thing could be? And not from that place where your irrational fears sit." she deadpans, and you feel attacked, it makes you look away.

"In the two years of you knowing Reid, do you actually think that he's the kind of guy to break you down to nothing if he doesn't feel the same?" she asks, and the answer when presented to you like this is no. "So tell me what it is that you're really scared of?" she presses, and you don't understand why everyone's so worked up over this. Why the whole unit seemed to be invested in you expressing your feelings.

"I don't want to mess it up..." you shrug your shoulders. "I don't want to make it weird." you offer, and Emily's unmoved by your answer.

"You managed to do that without saying a thing." she retorts, and you feel like you've got no room to speak, no voice to rebuttal with. "Let me be your shrink for a second." Emily is your friend for moments like these, where her clear allegiance to you shines through. "Talk to me." she prompts.

"Why are you so invested in this?" you inquire. "Why does it even matter?" you huff.

"Because it matters to you." she answers. "What? You didn't know that's how this team works?" she asks, and you huff out a puff of air through your nose. "This isn't about us playing matchmaker... it's about you realizing that you've got a few bad beliefs about romance... and friendships.... and relationships that are going to keep you all by yourself if you don't start speaking your mind." she shrugs.

"And despite the way you curl into yourself back here at your desk, we both know you don't really want to be alone." and you think you might cry, it makes you wince. "You owe it to yourself to try, but ultimately the decision is all yours. I just think you'll feel better if you take Reid aside, and tell him the truth about how you feel." she seems done, and you don't know how to respond. Emily pats your shoulder as she rounds your desk, before heading back across the unit.

You really hate profilers.

By the time you're heading home for the night, you and Spencer hadn't spoken again. You'd been so buried in work that you'd skipped lunch to get things done. You'd gotten a comment from Hotch about that, wondering if you were feeling alright. You knew that he knew the truth, even as you told him a fib. Hotch though, was discrete enough not to make you feel scrutinized by exposing just how obvious you were. You couldn't get Emily's words out of your head.

You didn't feel angry with her, and your embarrassment had managed to go away within the first forty minutes after she'd left you alone. You knew she was right, but it still didn't make things easier. It was almost like you forgot how to speak whenever the time came to really express yourself. You supposed that was why your apology had been so flat. Feelings weren't your strong suit, and you'd learned to express them by lashing out. A less than healthy way to live.

You liked that the team didn't speak to you like a child or treat you like you were incapable. Instead, they talked to you like an adult, gave the truth to you in a way that sliced through all your stubbornness and attitude. As you head towards the elevator, you hear footsteps, and look just in time to see Spencer making his way towards you. His satchel hangs off his shoulder, and he looks relieved, an emotion that you knew all too well by the end of a work shift.

You hoped there wouldn't be any cases that drug you back to the unit, all you wanted was a shower and a nap in your own bed.

Stepping into the elevator, Spencer trails you. He takes one side of the elevator, while you huddle up in the other. He offers you a tired smile as the doors slide closed, you offer him a smile right back. It's weary, mostly because you were drained, but partly, because Spencer had been the object of your thoughts the entire day. Especially after Emily's blunt speech. You were drained. The anxiety of keeping the secret far outweighed any fear of rejection now.

"Hey, are you alright?" he addresses you, after noticing the way you seemed lost in your head.

"Hmm?" you hum, and he repeats himself. It snaps you out of your mind spiral, and your head nods. A lie. "I'm all good, Spence." you reply, and he looks disappointed, but not surprised. "Thanks for asking though." you add a second after, and he offers you a dry little nod of his head. The elevator is back silent, and you hope the doors open quick. You might drown if the tension grew any thicker.

"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable." he says, and you blank. Your confusion is clear as day on your face. "Earlier..." and your still not understanding. "I wasn't telling you that you were important to me, because I was expecting anything in return." he explains, and it clicks. "If it made you feel weird, I'm sorry. It just felt like the right way to express my point then." he proceeds, and you don't know how to collect yourself. "So, I'm sorry." and you want to scream.

Mostly at yourself for being so infuriatingly inadequate at expressing your thoughts and feelings.

"If you want, we could just pretend I never said anything?" he offers, and you don't answer quick enough. The elevator slides open just as the words are settling inside your head, and he's stepping out into the parking deck without another word. You sit there in the elevator for a moment, the door sliding shut after a moment, but you don't move. You feel like you're at a crossroads, almost at a point of no return. If you let Spencer leave now... like this, there would be no coming back.

There would be no room to gain some balls later, and try again. It wouldn't be fair to him. It wouldn't be fair to yourself.

You feel like hyperventilating, thoughts everywhere. Love had never been a subject you really understood. You'd always sort of saw it as this concrete construct. Unchangeable, always either black or white. A gloomy, gray, existence that could cut you up and spit you out. Love could turn you into a hollow version of who you once were. Love could break you down, and make you nothing. But then you think of your team. JJ and Penelope, Hotch, Dave, Emily, Derek. Spencer.

They were the rarest and purest examples of love in your day-to-day life, weren't they? You'd never quite met anyone who had your back more than your team. They fought for you, they fought with you. They believed in you, pushed you to be the best you that you could be. So why was it so hard, what were you scared of? Was it the notion of getting Spencer, and staining him? Blowing out that light inside him the way you'd witnessed for so long?

Was that a life worth living? Was it a chance you could take?

And then you huff, because damnit... you were tired of waiting. You were tired of anxiety, and uncertainty, and insecurity, and pain. You're certain that is why you hit the button to open the elevator. Gracefulness is not on your side as you practically sprint out into the car park, your eyes scanning hopefully for the familiar silhouette of your friend. When you spot him, you release a quiet noise of relief. "S-Spencer!" you hear the echo from your shout, and cringe.

But it doesn't matter, because he turns, he stops, and he's looking at you. His eyebrows are raised, hands gripping his bag, as you start to run. You ignore your fatigue, and your desire to run and hide, and instead run towards something for once. You don't stop running until you're past the point of 'personal space', you want to hover, you want to be in his space, because it was the only way you could possibly get through this. He looks a bit unsure, and still a bit grumpy.

You hope by the end of this that's no longer the case.

"Spencer, I don't want to forget about what you said." you're trying to catch your breath, bouncing up on your heels. "I don't want to pretend you never said it." you add, and Spencer's surprised expression has the hairs on your arm and neck ready to stand on end. "I-I actually want to know what you meant." you admit. "Because, I know what I meant when I said it... and it's not something that I take back." you express, and you can hear blood rushing in your ears.

"What did you mean?" Spencer asks, and you blanche.

"I asked you first." the obvious retort, and Spencer exhales loudly, but there's no annoyance, no exasperation. Only amusement, like always.

"I've done enough talking, haven't I?" he asks. "I want to know what you're thinking." and his voice is so soft, full of tenderness that you feel like you're being serenaded. You feel like you've got a knot in your throat also, almost like you'll suffocate if you don't get your thoughts out. "I promise I won't leave you hanging." and you're not sure what he means by that, but it helps. It makes your heart stutter-step, and you need to catch your breath, because you can't believe this is actually happening, or that you're actually here.

"I-" you play withy your fingers, and you have to inhale deeply to ensure you don't chicken out. "Spence, I didn't tell you that you were important to me, because you said it first." you promise, and he nods, but he doesn't say anything. His eyes are syrupy, alluring, and beautiful, still twinkling under the dingy, flickering lights of the parking deck. "I said it because you're all I really think about." you admit, and his eyebrows furrow, and you're scared.

"And the last three weeks... I've been so mad at you." you blurt out. "I was the one that acted like a child, but I was angry with you, because I thought that you were making fun of me... and all the feelings I have for you." you exhale, and you look down at the ground, because the nerves that come with your words are overwhelming. "I was jealous, I acted like a child, but it was only because I thought you were rubbing it in my face... I thought you were being cruel."

Spencer's long lashes blink rapidly, but he's still stone silent. Probably because he knows that you're still not done. "And that wasn't fair of me, because I know you, Spence. You're not that type of person, but I just I couldn't reign myself in, and I acted immaturely because I was scared... and then just now, in the elevator... I almost did it again. I almost let you think that I don't care about you... but I do. Spencer, I have feelings for you." and you clear your throat, legs shaking.

"I'm in love with you, and I'm not... this isn't some trick or ploy or cry for help. I understand if you're mind is elsewhere... and I'm so sorry if the way I've been acting ruined everything, but I-I love you okay? That's what this has all been about. I'm sorry it took me so long to say something, but there it is." and you gasp, chest heaving now that you were finished. You finally look up at Spencer again, and he's staring you down. It doesn't feel hypersexual or heady with tension.

Instead, it's like the first intake of air into your lungs after being under water for so long. You supposed that's what the truth did, you supposed that's what your feelings for Spencer did when you allowed them to exist. "You mean that?" he asks, and you huff.

"Of course, I mean it. I mean it so much, I think I'm going to be sick." and despite himself he laughs, a bright beam following after it. He takes a small step towards you, and you feel crowded, the body heat from you both warming you up from the inside out. Still, despite how outwardly calm he looked in comparison to you, you managed to spot the shyness, the anxiety that rested in his own eyes. He looked unsure, almost like he was being careful not to ruin the moment.

"Do you know how long I've been wanting to hear you say that?" he asks, and you're shocked, stuck, surprised. You don't know if this is in your mind or if you just got lucky. "Have you ever-" he's got this gleeful look on his face. "There's this quote by Lao Tzu..." he stammers, "Love is of all passions the strongest, for it attacks simultaneously the head, the heart, and the senses." he quotes, and there are no butterflies... you think that might be a good thing.

"I don't know if there's been a time since I met you that you haven't been on my mind." Spencer explains, and there it is. "I think that's why I snapped the way I did, I don't think I ever imagined a scenario where we'd be here." he admits, and it pains you to know that he thought that way. "It was-" he motions between you both. "The thought of us being something was sort of just something I believed would always sort of just be a thought." Spencer's glowing red.

The blush coats his ears, cheeks, nose, and neck. His eyes are brighter, and his hands twitch at his side, almost like he's restraining himself. You think you only notice, because you're doing the same.

"I want to be with you." he says this so faintly you're almost unsure you heard him correctly. Your eyes widen, and your surprise is obvious. He takes a small step forward, and he's crowding you. It's nothing like the movies, in fact, the closer he gets to you, the more you're able to see the shyness in his eyes. He reaches out, and his hand ghosts over your side.

"Spence-" and the you that you were just an hour earlier, the one too scared to tell him the truth almost feels like she never even existed.

"Can I?" he asks, and your eyes drift to his hands that are inching closer to your body. You nod your head quickly, and he doesn't look amused. "I want to hear you." he says quietly. "I want you to tell me that I can." he adds, and you find yourself nodding anyway.

"Y-You can." you promise. "But I don't want you to pretend." his eyebrows furrow again. "Please don't do this if you don't mean it." you say, and Spencer's hands drop to your side, there's no wandering fingers, in fact it feels like he wanted to touch you for the sole purpose of keeping you from shaking any longer.

"Y/N, I want to be with you." he repeats it more firmly this time, and he's looking directly at you. It's intense, the eye contact more than anything else. He sounds sincere, and that makes you nervous.

"But what about..." and you trail off, because you don't know what to label the pretty woman he'd been entertaining. Spencer chuckles quietly, and his head shakes from side to side.

"She was nice." he reiterates the words he'd said three weeks prior. "But, she's not you... I don't think anyone would've been able to fill your shoes." he says, and you squeeze your eyes closed, because God, Spencer was so good with words. His hands are on your face, brushing at your cheeks as you shed a few long overdue tears. "Are these happy tears?" he asks hopefully, and your eyes shoot open. Your head nods, and you're not sure why you're so quiet.

Maybe, because life had thrown a curveball and surprised you in a good way. "Happy tears." you agree, and he presses his lips together, thumbs still working to keep the tears at bay. "I just can't believe-"

"Please do." he cuts you off, before you can get it out. "Believe this, believe me." he almost begs, and you hum. "Can I kiss you?" he asks, and you don't answer him, instead you surge forward and press your lips to his. You're certain security is getting a full view of the action, Spencer kisses like he wants to inhale you, and it's nice.. It's more than nice, his kisses are surged with emotion, every ounce of affection that his words had been drenched in was felt in the kiss.

Had breathing not been a factor, you might have stayed there. When you pull back to inhale, Spencer's got this twinkle in his eye that makes your nose scrunch up. "What?" you press, and he grins at you.

"You love me..." he breathes it out, and you're not sure if he's stating it or asking, but you suppose now that the cat's out of the bag, saying it again is nothing.

"Yeah. I love you, Spence." you promise, and he's quick to lean in and peck you on the lips. "D'you love me too?" you ask, once he's pulled back, and his hands move up, cupping both sides of your face as he drags his thumbs up and down.

"I love you." and it sounds like a promise.

So you believe him.

 "It’s a profoundly strange feeling, to stumble across someone whose desires are shaped so closely to your own, like reaching toward your reflection in a mirror and finding warm flesh under your fingertips. If you should ever be lucky enough to find that magical, fearful symmetry, I hope you’re brave enough to grab it with both hands and not let go.” ― Alix E. Harrow

[fiber-optic-alligator]

Hi may i please request swerve trying to be the human liason on the lost light's wimgmech untill they jump grab his shoulders do a pullup and smooch him.

Thank you! Hope your flights arent horrifically delayed.

Thank you for the request, and sorry for how long it took to finally get it out lol! Coincidentally my flights ended up being okay despite the hell I went through to get onto the planes.

I put a lot of thought into this request, and I wasn't entirely sure what you meant with Swerve being the reader's wingmech, so I went down this route. I hope you enjoy it! Sorry it's on the shorter side. Thanks again! :D

Wingmech

Pairing: IDW Swerve x Human Liason Reader

Word Count: 2181

Summary: After noticing you are lost in love with an anonymous mech, Swerve decides to help you prepare for going after the secret crush you have.

  Swerve has been watching you for a while now.

  It’s not uncommon for the Lost Light’s crew to focus on you. You are, after all, the only human aboard the Cybertronian exploration ship. Though you’ve been here for months, no bot can help but find you fascinating. And Swerve? Well…he’d never admit it to anyone, but his interest in you goes well beyond mere fascination. Yes, you're small, smaller than even him. Yes, you're soft, and squishy, and adorable, and sometimes he really wants to scoop you up into his arms and kiss you right on the lips after confessing his love-

  Okay. So maybe he has a bit of a crush on you. But that’s all it is! A crush that compels him to  keep tabs on where you go and what you do. He’s learned about you from the various conversations he’s listened to during busy nights. He knows you adore dogs and melt at the sight of cats (What are dogs? What are cats? Like hell he knows. He isn’t particularly caught up on his Earth knowledge). He knows you like to turn in early and wake up late. He knows you aren’t exactly a party person, and sometimes being surrounded by robots three times your size is incredibly overwhelming. And following that little tidbit, he understands you don’t like coming to his bar.

  So why are you here now?

  He’s watching you while he makes drinks. Your little form is tucked away in a corner at one of the smaller tables reserved for minicons, hunched over a notebook, eyes focused on the pages of written material he can’t read. Even when he zooms his optics in, your writing is far too small for him to coherently pick up on from this distance. With one hand propped against your cheek and the other idly tapping a pen against your head, you look far too troubled for someone who’s currently spending time in a place where all troubles are drunken away. It makes him curious and concerned. Why would you, someone who hates large crowds and loud environments, be writing in such a place?

  He needs to get to the bottom of it.

  Now, he knows what someone might say about this: “Swerve, it's none of your business. Swerve, they clearly don’t want to be bothered. Swerve, eavesdropping is bad.”

  Well, you know what he would say to all of that? “I’m a bartender. My business is everyone else’s business. That’s what being a bartender entails.”

  So yeah, he’s snooping. But it’s all for a good cause. Being around you is worth it. He’ll always take the chance to talk to you if he can.

  “Whatcha writing?” he asks when he pops up behind you with surprising stealthiness. You let out a surprised shriek and nearly jump right out of your seat. He barely catches a glimpse of your notebook’s contents before you slam it shut and cover it with your arms.

  “Swerve!” you yell, fleshy human cheeks flushing a wonderful pink color (Oh, how he loves the way you blush like that. He wants to make you do it more). “Don’t scare me like that!”

  “Sorry. Couldn’t help myself. You humans make the cutest sounds when you're startled.” He folds his servos behind his back and leans forward a little. “I don’t see you in the bar often. A place like this isn’t really the best for writing stories, ya know.”

  You sigh and slip your notebook into the knapsack you always carry around. Darn, he thinks, how will your secrets be spilled to him now? “I’m not writing stories. I’m just…doing research on something.”

  “Research,” he says. “In a bar.”

  “Yes. Research in a bar. Is that so hard to believe?”

  He does a quick scan of your features. The blush on your cheeks has deepened to a shade of red that almost matches his paint job. You're fiddling with your knapsack and guarding that notebook with your life. Suddenly, it comes upon him like a tidal wave; his smile widens with the victorious air of someone who just won a medal. “Oh, I know what's going on here,” he says. “You've been spying on someone, haven’t you?”

  Your reaction only further proves his theory. You look horrified, and the way you frantically rush to defend yourself is like a bright neon arrow pointing directly at your head. “What? No! Nonono, why would you think that?!”

  He laughs. “Oh, you totally are! Your notebook is probably chock-full of evidence, amiright? Wait, don’t tell me! Let me guess!”  He circles the table and plops down across from you. “Is it Ratchet? Nah, too grouchy. Cyclonus? Mm, too weird. Oh, oh! It’s Rodimus, isn’t it? It has to be Rodimus!”

  “What are you talking about?” you ask him.

  He leans forward and smirks. “You're in love, little one. Am I right, or am I right?”

  “I-I’m not-there’s no-” You stutter for a moment longer, then get a hold of your emotions and reel them in. Sitting back and going stone-faced, you stare at him with only the color of your blush signaling what you are currently going through. “I’m not in love.”

  Does it hurt to know you have a crush on someone who isn’t him? Absolutely? But telling you that would mean admitting the feelings he has for you, and no way is he doing that now. His spark aches with the sting of rejection, but he hides it well and decides messing with you will make him feel much better. “C’mon, squirt. You can’t lie to me. It’s as clear as day that someone on this ship has you smitten.”

  “It’s not someone on this ship. I’m a human.”

  “You being a human and us being mechs means nothing. How many months have you been aboard this ship?” He counts off his digits. “Two? Three? No, it’s been five months, hasn’t it? Five months with us and your little spark has finally decided humans just don’t compare to mechs anymore. Aw, how adorable.”

  You look like you want to jump across the table to snap his intake shut. Instead though, you slump back in defeat and groan, rubbing your hands across your face. “Is it really that obvious?”

  “To me? Yeah. But that’s only because I’ve picked up on your reactions. Plus, the fact that you came here to jot down ‘notes’ means…” Now he gets excited. “It has to be someone in this bar.”

  You regard him cautiously. “And what if it is? What will you do about it?”

  He shrugs. “Nothing! My job is to pour drinks and listen to people’s woes. What kind of reputation would I be giving this fine establishment if I were to go around tattling on my loyal customers?” He taps his index digit against his dermas. Scrap, this is really going to hurt him. But he wants to see you happy. “I could help you, you know.”

  “Help me?” you echo.

  “Yeah, why not?” he forces himself to say with enthusiasm. “I’m always ready to help a pal! I’ll be your wingmech! How’s that sound?”

  A wide smile splits across your face and you cover your mouth to muffle your giggle. “Wingmech? Seriously? That’s so cheesy, Swerve.”

  By the Allspark, hearing your laughter is music to his ears. He’s envious of whoever you are crushing on. They’re one lucky mech to have someone like you chasing after them.  But he swallows down his jealousy for your sake and puffs out his chassis proudly. “Cheesy or not, I’m sure I can help you woo your future sweetspark. All you gotta do is learn to use a little bit of the ol’ Swerve charm and bingo, this bot will be yours in no time. So, whattaya say? You wanna employ my humble services?”

  You bite your lower lip and look down at your knapsack. “I don’t know. The Swerve charm may not exactly work on the mech I’m thinking of.”

  “Aha!” He stands up and points at you. “So you admit you're in love!”

  You give him a pointed look. “Alright, alright, fine, I admit it! Yes, there’s someone on this ship I really like. I’ve been writing down things he may or may not enjoy so I can come up with ways to show him that…that I want to…askhimout.” This last part comes out as a weak mutter. It’s obviously difficult for you to admit it, but oh boy is Swerve glad you have.

  “So it’s a he. Hm. IIIInteresting. Mind telling me what he’s like?”

  You smile. “Well, he’s outgoing. And very enthusiastic about what he does. He always has an upbeat attitude and definitely knows how to make me laugh. Some might think he’s a bit of a wise-ass though.”

  Swerve chuckles. “Sounds like a real dream boat.”

  “You…have no idea.” The way you say it sounds strange to him, but he doesn’t think any more of it. You drum your fingers against the table. “What…what would you do if you wanted to tell him that…that you like him?”

  I wouldn’t. I’d tell you I like you and no one else. “I’d probably do something bold. Something that would really grab his attention, ya know?” He thinks. “Does he like you back?”

  “Well, you see…I-I think so? I’m not sure. I talk to him a lot, but we’re…kind of different. I’m definitely not like him, but we get along. The more I hang out with him, the more these feelings grow.” You stare at your hands. “I don’t know if I should be admitting all of this.”

  “No, no, it’s okay!” He’s quick to reassure you. “I want to help! Seriously! I said I’d be your wingmech, and I’m going to uphold my word! So, let’s think! You think he likes you, and you definitely like him back. He’s the extroverted type, bold and brash…so give him a show! Really show him that you want him and you to be together, and you appreciate all of the good company he’s given you since you boarded the ship. The key is to really hit him here.” He thumps his chassis. “Right in the spark. It’s all emotions, squirt! Nothing else to it!”

  “Emotions, huh?” Once again, that odd look crosses you. “Do you think we could…practice?”

  “Practice?”

  “Yeah, like, working on what I’ll do when I finally admit my feelings to him? Would that be okay with you?”

  “Oh, yes, totally!” He stands up. “C’mere, let’s go through it. Think about what you want to say, and then act it out to me.”

  You stand up as well and walk over to him. Looking down, he sees just how small you are compared to him; you barely make it up to his chassis. You study him, biting your bottom lip. You look so nervous. It makes him want to be gentle.

  “Don’t be shy,” he says softly. “There’s no reason to be. It’s just you and I here, yeah? No one will pay attention to us.”

  You draw in a deep breath. “Okay, Okay.” Shaking out your arms, you fixate on him determinedly. “I’m not going to say anything. I’m going to do something. Is that okay?”

  “Oh,” he says, a bit confused. “Sure, yeah! What are you going to do?”

  You take a step back. Then, you jump forward, and he’s startled when you grab his shoulders and pull yourself up. His optics widen when you lean in and give him a short kiss. Every mechanical nerve in his body sings when he feels your lips on his, and he seems to lose control of himself, becoming nothing more than a statue.

  Then, it’s over. You let him go and drop back down, taking a step back and looking at him anxiously. He stares at you, air whooshing in and out of his intake as his systems attempt to cool.

  “It’s…It’s me?” he whispers.

  You lower your head and nod.

  He can’t talk. He can’t make a sound. It’s only for a good few seconds, but when he finally regains control of his vocalizer, he begins to laugh. And laugh. And laugh. And then he’s picking you up and spinning you around in a tight hug. “You like me!” he cries. “You like me, you like me!” He couldn’t care less if anyone else in the bar is watching this. The one he’s been crushing on for months has been crushing on him back!

  You laugh along with him. “It took you this long to figure it out? I’ve been dropping hints since we started this conversation!”

  “That’s why you’ve been doing research in the bar! Primus, how did I not realize it sooner?” He holds you back so he can see your brilliant smile. It makes him melt. “I can’t believe you really like me,” he whispers.

  You cup his faceplate in your hands. “I’m guessing your happy about it, Mr. Wingmech?”

  He kisses you again, leaning into your touch. “Well…looks like my humble services paid off.” He pauses. “So…what did you think of the Swerve charm?”

[d33pd3sire-blog]

A Kiss A Day Keeps The Doctor Away.

PSA: this is my first fanfiction in a decade, pls be gentle <3

Warnings: Could be kinda smutty if you squint. Injury (nothing explicit). Dom Emily. No use of Y/N!

Context: Reader gets hurt in the field. Once Emily knew you were going to be okay, she gave you the silent treatment. No talking, no glances, nothing the whole ride home from the hospital.

As you both stand at the front door of your apartment, Emily is rummaging through her bag to find her keys. Neither of you have spoken in a few hours, both of you as stubborn as the other. After a few seconds of Emily struggling to find her keys, you huff and pull yours out, unlocking the door. You put your arm out to let her go first, but instead, she grabs your arm and drags you in.

Emily takes you to the bedroom to make sure your bandages are still okay. As she undress you slightly you get a little frustrated from the silence.

'Em, will you please say something?' you sigh.

'No.' She says, without looking up at you.

'The doctor said you have to stay off of your leg for at least a week. You're going to follow the doctors orders, correct? Or are you going to ignore them like always?' Emilys tone meant she wasn't even slightly amused.

You open your mouth to argue something back but decide against it. You choose the gaslighting route and bite your lip. 'It's really not that bad..'

'Don't.' She spits, not falling for that. 'You will follow the doctors orders.' She rewraps the bandage.

'Understood?'

The dominance radiating from Emily is intoxicating, you start to enjoy this side of her. You look up at her, as if in a trance.

'Is that an order?" you bite your lip, looking at her through your eyelashes.

She raises an eyebrow at you for a moment. Considering what way she wants to take this. 'Thats an order. You will rest until the Doctor says you're okay. Got it?'

You tap your chin in an over exaggerate way, as if you're thinking for a second. You give a cheesy grin and then adds 'Ill do it on one condition.' You take her hand and sit both of you down on the couch.

'Oh?' As she sits, she crosses her arms and stares for a moment, raising both of her eyebrows at you.

You tilt your head slightly, looking from Emilys lips to her eyes again. 'Kiss me?'

She blushes slightly at the request and clears her throat, trying to stand her ground. 'You're going to follow the doctors orders in exchange for a kiss?' She asks, making sure she heard you right.

You know what you're doing to her.

'Well, maybe a few kisses to keep me in check for the next week.' You lean closer to her, you can feel her breath on your lips. 'Its up to you.' You smile.

Emily lets out a soft sigh, fighting the urge to have you right here and now. She leans a little closer, mad at you for turning the attention away from your injury. Her mind is racing, she wanted to kiss you as much as you wanted to kiss her.

Before you knew it, her hand was resting on your neck and her lips had landed on yours. You melt into her touch, her hand placement driving you crazy. Emily notices this and deepens the kiss, leading to a moan escaping your mouth.

Your moan was enough to get Emily's blood rushing. She holds the back of your head gently, as she moves to get into a better-

'Ah shit!' you hiss, the movement from Emily causing a sharp pain from your leg.

The unexpected jump from you getting hurt pulled Emily out of the trance. She looks at you full of worry and looks down, checking your leg. 'Fuck! Are you okay? Did I hurt you? Im so sorry!' You can see her mind is going to the worst places first.

'Babe, babe, its okay. Im okay, it was nothing' You try to hide your pain and give her a small kiss. She hesitantly returns it.

'I love that you care,' you smile at her and start to play with her shirt.

Emily rolls her eyes, but she can't help but smile at your statement. 'I'll be here everyday to make sure you're not on that thing. Okay?'

The idea of your girlfriend being here everyday to give you kisses makes your heart swell. 'They do say a kiss a day keeps the Doctor away.. Or something like that.' You both laugh a little.

[letters-to-lgbt-kids]

My dear lgbt+ kids,

I have been openly living as a trans man for some years now. And I'm at a point where it doesn't take up so much mental space anymore.

Don't get me wrong: I certainly do not mean "it doesn't matter anymore" here. I am not a "just call me whatever pronouns, I do not care" person and I don't think I ever will be. Nothing wrong with feeling that way, it's just not how I feel. Being adressed with my name and my pronouns is still important for my mental well-being, and it still triggers feelings of dysphoria when people misgender me.

Even apart from misgendering: My identity is still important, and it always will be! Being trans is not some small thing that loses its importance over time. It's who I am. Being a man - and having grown up in a society that told me I wasn't - influences the way I experience everything in my life (from my self-image to my relationships with others to... well, everything).

What I do mean here is: Before coming out to others, and also before coming out to myself and accepting myself as a man, there were naturally a lot of questions running circles in my brain. Why do I feel so sad when adults tells me I'll grow into a woman? Why does it cause me so much stress when mom tells me to put on a dress? Why does it make me so euphoric to use masculine scents? When I try to picture myself kissing a boy, why do I see two boys? Ah, I just learned trans people exist, why does this fascinate me so much that I can't stop thinking about it? Am I creepy for being so fascinated by them? I'm older now, why is that sad feeling not going away? Why is it only getting worse now that I have "grown into a woman"? Why do I keep getting this horrified feeling that I took a wrong route somewhere and was never meant to arrive at "woman"? Wait... could this mean I am trans? Is it too late to realize I am trans at my age? Can I really be trans when the whole thought of even just considering surgery feels overwhelming and scary? Will I ever be ready to actually come out as trans? I really want to get married some day, could I even find love as a trans person? Can I ever be happy in a relationship if I hide who I am? Can I go on living in the closet? Okay, I am trans and want to come out, is it safe to do that? Will my family still love me? Will I ever be brave enough to come out to people outside of my immediate circle? Will people take me seriously? Will people hate me? Will I regret coming out? What if I fuck up my life?

Well, I came out and the world didn't end. All these questions, I either found answers to them or they just dissolved over time - and that frees up a lot of energy and mental space. The space that was occupied by these questions and concerns is now available to me again.

I do not wonder if I am a man anymore. I just am one. It has become something that is just self-evident to me. It goes without saying - or without conciously spending time thinking about it. Of course I am a man, of course I am Oliver. Who else would I be?

We all have a limited amount of things we can focus on, and many trans people share this experience that over time they do not need to focus so much on it anymnore. But this is not unique to the process of figuring out you are trans - in the sense that a cis gay, bi, ace etc. person could also relate to this, but also in entirely non-lgbt-specific ways. Think about a person prepping for an important exam for example. A lot of their energy and mental space will be tied up in exam related questions... which obviously will not be a permanent state. After the exam, they will naturally no longer by preoccupied by wondering how the exam will go!

I'm telling you all this because one of you asked me if I struggled with coming to terms with being a trans man - and this is my very long way of saying: Yes, I did (and it's pretty normal to do! It's a really big realization about yourself!) but struggling isn't a permanent state.

You'll find answers to some questions, some questions will just fade away. You'll figure things out.

With all my love,

Your Tumblr Dad

[gotham-daydreams]

Okay, so, I love Isekai fanfic. I just do, it's so fun. I like the idea of the reader loving this stuff and dreaming of it, but being so worried about them thinking ill of you. I would also be so embarrassed. Like, "Crud, they're gonna think I'm so lame and stupid." Only to find out, "Oh. I have some of the most dangerous, intelligent people on the planet obsessed with me who will never let me go home... Not the kind of bad I expected, and yet this is somehow worse." I'm also interested in the Idol one. The idea of someone being friends with Idols, and this fear that people only like you to try to get close to these people. That you're just being used. And then the sudden whiplash of them wanting you, and the fear it brings when you realize you're being stalked. From one kind of bad, to very different and worse kind of bad. I am very excited

Yes!!! Exactly!!!

For the Isekai one, I also decided to do that because... well, usually the MC is placed right at the foot the the yanderes/Batfam, or tries to go to them - which isn't bad by any means! Honestly it'd be pretty smart to do that considering things, and it works out for plot convenience.

Though, I couldn't help but think about a reader that just... avoids them? At all costs? Not because they have something to hide necessarily, but moreso because, well, that'd be really embarrassing... and sure, it's one thing to read about them- but its an entirely different thing to meet them face to face. How are you supposed to act? Of course you'd have to pretend you don't know them... but they're scarily good at reading people! What if they think you're some kind of stalker??? Or worse!

Basically, I need a reader that is super anxious and an overthinker so they decide to take a harder but socially 'easier' route of just... avoiding them, LMAO

Though yeah, when that realization comes around, and the reader notices a little too late that maybe the Batfam is obsessed over them? And they can't go home? It's so over. A breakdown is definitely imminent.

As for the switch one? I know!!! I love it so much!! I've only read a handful of yandere stories where the fixation for the yans switches, and even less where the original fixation wasn't an asshole, so this is me trying to do that but with the Batfam :]

The feeling of being used will definitely appear every now and again, but there is more of a fear of "something you didn't take seriously now becoming serious and it's too late for you", especially as the reader does try to pull away and break things off from the family, but it definitely doesn't work out.

I'll be honest, there is more than just the idols and the family using the reader to get what they want out of them, but that is the general premise without me getting into details and writing even longer descriptions, lol

For example: just to live, the reader does some shady buisness - but they are trying to get out of it (the family doesn't know they're even doing that kind of buisness, though). The reader also knows a lot of people... more than the Batfam thought! And just generally the Batfam looking into the reader as they realize they don't actually know a lot about them, and through that some of them become obsessed and super jealous...

It's not a lot as the whole switch from the idols to the main character does take more of a focus, but what I've mentioned above is just more things in between and during that gradual switch.

It's even worse then you think that the Batfam was doing it out of malice at first, then it slowly became something else.... oh man. And just how all these little things that meant to harm you, are now supposed to like, be signs of affection??? Super confusing, but god is it dreadful and terrifying.

[raayllum]

Been also thinking about the line between "the text wasn't meant to be interpreted this way but it's a solid reading / line of critique (with caveats)" (#1) versus "the text wasn't meant to be interpreted this way and doing so actively worsens the story they're trying to tell" (#2).

Going to do some TDP specific examples.

But basically: When your in-depth reading takes away from the Surface Level reading rather than providing contribution, that's usually a good sign you're going into a story with 1) an expectation or reading that was never promised or 2) are weakening the story through a typically unfounded analysis.

A TDP specific example is the relationship between Viren and Harrow. Canonically, textually, they had a brotherly relationship, both in the dialogue that Viren conveys ("I think of you as my brother" / "You're my brother") and in their persistent parallel framing with Callum and Ezran.

However, that doesn't stop many fans (myself included) from reading a romantic and sexual attraction between Viren and Harrow, especially in their youth. Not only do they just have the vibes, parallels to other couples, and subtext, Viren very much places Harrow's importance in his life in a way that's usually reserved for lovers. Viren having been in love (or ongoing) just makes sense. That doesn't mean any of us are expecting TDP to ever make it Canon — like I said, it's canonically very much Not that — but it does add a layer to Viren always wanting to 1) matter to Harrow as much as he does, and 2) his frustration and severance with Harrow because he wasn't getting the acceptance and affection that he wanted.

This is what I would consider #1 avenue: it doesn't take away from their dynamic, and to me adds a layer, but it allows the text to stand as is. Viren wants Harrow's love and attention in the gradual and then sharp deterioration of their dynamic. All I'm changing is a little bit of the why per my personal reading.

Meanwhile, if I went the route of "Yeah I know canon shows Harrow appreciating, taking Viren into account, and smiling at / loving him, but I don't think Harrow cared at all and he was just a bad friend to Viren for years" then... Yeah I could read it that way — it's not as though Harrow or Viren were hardly perfect friends to each other, and Harrow's discard of Viren is harsh (even if it was a long time coming in a lot of ways) — but what does that leave me with? Frustration, maybe; a poor view of Harrow; immense sympathy towards Viren? At best, I'd maybe resent how Viren learns the lessons Harrow was trying to teach him by paying for it with his life; at worst, I'd think the narrative was being fundamentally unfair to Viren without recognizing that his previous modes of self sacrifice were always couched in ego, shirking the immediate consequences of being saved, or that he was routinely willing to sacrifice everyone around him first, including his own children.

This is where we get into area #2, and I see it happen all the time with TDP, whether it's from the series not portraying monarchies as a bad thing or the ever persistent "issue" of dark magic. Quite frankly, it's silly to walk into TDP post-S1 expecting dark magic to be anything beyond — given all the current textual evidence — "morally complicated" magic at best. Yes it can be used for good things, but that doesn't automatically make it good, and while we could spin logistical wheels for ages, the Point the story is Making with dark magic is about power, desperation, love, self-destruction, violation, and agency, and how all those things can overlap or counteract each other. Toting out "well I think dark magic is blanket statement Okay and Good actually" misses all of that, and actively makes your reading and experience with TDP worse. The surface level reading is important to take into account when examining a piece of media, otherwise it can lead to a very warped view and effect your ability to be well founded in your reading of the text.

That doesn't mean you can't desire a more morally neutral form of dark magic — plenty of fantasy series and stories have it, and some I adore (like "the legend of Zelda" — but it does mean accepting the story is never going to broadly speaking do that, and it's Okay that it won't. I'd be silly if I walked into LOZ expecting them to get into the ethics of its form of (non) dark magic of using monsters for spell parts because it's 1) a game mechanic and 2) it's not interested in the ethics of it, and no amount of me saying "well it should be" will change that, nor is it a Story Flaw that it doesn't.

This is all to say that I think asking "Why would the writers do this?" is one of the most useful, if basic, questions to ask when it comes to analysis and when figuring out whether your viewpoint is falling into avenue #1 of being grounded, or avenue #2 of veering towards warped territory.

For example, if I take Rayla not being by Callum's side when he's struggling over the pearl reveal in 6x06 as an indicator she doesn't care about him, I'm doing a deep dive that ignores all the very Surface Level emphasized scenes of Rayla caring about and supporting Callum a whole lot. I could make the claim she doesn't care based on that scene, but it wouldn't be well founded because it's ignoring miles of other much more prevalent, consistent scenes of her being there for him; it's not a well founded claim.

For something less obvious, let's look at 5x08. While Callum could've given Finnegrin the wrong spell on purpose, as some fans have thoughtfully proposed, as a sneaky wink for die hard fans... why would the authors do that? What does the story gain from that reading or intention? Well, it makes it seem like Callum was less desperate in his dealings with Finnegrin, which makes him doing dark magic afterwards come off worse. It also lessens the battle Callum has throughout that episode for feeling in control and recognizing that he can't always be. It's a reading that, in my opinion, not only strays away from the surface level reading, but is one removes elements from the text that the text would otherwise be stronger for having. In comparison, after all, if Callum gave his version of the right spell without thinking it through, he did so entirely out of desperation, which better affirms just how desperate and worn down he had to be to do dark magic, and is another instance in the episode of him feeling very much out of control (especially since we don't see the 3rd with dark magic on screen, so otherwise, we'd only have him punching Finnegrin as an example and nothing else).

Same thing with the old (now debunked) theory of Callum's bio dad being elven in nature. It's an interesting idea, exploring the implications and backstory and how'd grapple with it, but it'd weaken what canon is actively striving for, which is that Callum's magic use is special precisely because he's an ordinary human who's gained primal magic, and having elven ancestry would counteract that. It doesn't mean that the idea isn't a Good one or that it's not fun to explore in fanon, but there's a lot of reasons the story isn't (or decided not to) have it be canon, because it was stronger for the story they Wanted to tell for it not to be.

Sometimes, as fans this means acknowledging that what we want or prefer in a story is just blatantly not what's being set up, because the story is going to do things regardless of what we want or personally like. That doesn't mean those decisions are bad, and it also doesn't mean those elements or decisions or constructions are beyond critique, but it does mean to ask yourself some key questions:

Is there anything my reading is missing? (ie. if TDP shouldn't have monarchs and that's the critical focus, we lose the messages about leadership, family, and legacy that are engaged with through the vessel of hereditary monarchy)

Why might the story or scene go in certain directions? Are there story constraints (time, tone, etc) they have to abide by?

Am I expecting the story to ascribe to my worldview or preference, and am I open to things that don't do that? If yes, why? If no, why not?

Is my in-depth takeaway aligned with a surface level reading? Are both readings working together, or are they opposed? What other surface level readings might be plausible here for a casual viewer?

Even if this is not personally compelling and/or believable to me, does my personal takeaway match up with the characters' responses to it? Why or why not? (Think every Disney movie where they fall in love in 3 days. Realistic? No. Does it matter within the context of the story? Also no)

Again, this is not to say that 1) what the casual takeaway Is is an objective singular monolith (it isn't) or 2) if the casual takeaway and your interpretation is at odds that you're wrong. But through context clues, we can usually narrow it down as to what the story intends, and that if our interpretations do veer heavily to examine why and to manage expectations accordingly.

Anyways hopefully this all made sense Viren x Harrow forever

[ashwhowrites]

What if Eddie saw Steve talking with Reader and he gets jealous, so he starts to act a little mean to reader and they end up fighting and Steve talks to Eddie and tells him that Reader and him were talking about her getting a job on Family Video bc she wants to start getting some money for college, and Eddie's worried bc he fought with her bc he tought she didn't like him anymore, and he ends up going to her house and apologizes to her and they end up watching movies and doing things that she likes and she forgives him

I hope this is what you were looking for and you enjoy it <3 thank you for requesting

Never proofread

Jealous? Yes

It was a Friday night, and that meant movie date night for Eddie and Y/N. They'd leave school, and take turns picking out a movie to watch for the night. Both knew neither would watch it, they'd make out and have sex on the couch before the credits even rolled.

This time it was her pick, so she ran in as Eddie waited in his van. Listening to his music as he watched he through the windows. He cringed when he saw her walk to the romance section, but it was her pick so he couldn't say anything.

He zoned out as he drew on his hand, not noticing how much time passed since she went inside. He looked up and saw that she's been in there for over twenty minutes. He scanned the store and found her at the checkout counter, talking to Steve.

Steve was smiling and writing something down on a piece of paper. Eddie's stomach twisted, was she talking to Steve the whole time? Was he writing down his number?

After another ten minutes, she finally left the store. Skipping happily to Eddie's van and jumped in. Eddie looked at the movie in her hand, and saw Steve's number was written on a piece of paper. Eddie felt anger boiling inside of him.

"Ready?" She asked, noticing Eddie hadn't bothered to start the car to drive off. His mind was racing with the thoughts of his girlfriend flirting with Steve Harrington. How long has she been interested in him?

"Eddie?" She asked again, reaching over to touch his hand but he snatched it away like she burned him. "You okay, baby?" She asked, worried as she tried to find out what happened while she was inside.

"I'm just feeling sick." He said, starting his van as he took the route to bring her home.

"Okay, let's go to your house and I'll make you some soup and we can relax." She said, smiling as she buckled herself.

"I'm bringing you home." He snapped, he almost felt bad at the way she deflated but he shouldn't care. Not like she cared about him.

"But why? Let me help you. I'm not worried about getting sick." She tried to joke, hitting his arm softly but his stone cold face didn't crack.

"Because I'm sick of you!" He snapped again, and this time he did feel bad. He knew it was the wrong thing to say but he was hurt and just wanted to hurt her too. He did a pretty good job.

He heard a small sniffle as she nodded. And let out a tiny "okay" under her breath. The rest of the ride was silent. But her mind wasn't, she didn't know what she did wrong. He was perfectly fine when they left school.

As they got closer to her street she looked at him. "Is there something you want to talk about? What happened?" She asked, but he stayed silent. Just breathing fast as he pulled in her driveway.

"Edward, talk to me. You aren't going to tell me you are sick of me then give me the silent treatment." She snapped, but he didn't budge.

"Well, now I'm sick of you." She growled, leaving the movie on the floor as she got out of his van, slamming the door with a pissed off look.

He watched as she marched inside. Great, now he really pissed her off. He almost went inside to apologize, but he caught her in the window. She was standing next to the phone as she typed in a number.

She was calling Steve, and that was enough for Eddie to drive away.

~~~

Eddie drove back to the video store, he wasn't sure what he planned to do but he felt like punching Steve would make him feel better.

Eddie marched in, eyes landing on Steve immediately, Steve welcomed him in but Eddie grabbed his collar and yanked him over the counter. Steve coughed as his stomach smacked the counter.

"Eddie, what the fuck?" Steve gasped, the tight hold on his shirt was choking him.

"Why did you give my girlfriend your number?" Eddie growled, his eyes blazing with anger as Steve panicked.

"She wants a job! That was all. I told her I'd get her an interview." Steve explained, sighing in relief when Eddie let him go. He watched as Eddie's face fell and his body deflated.

"Just a job? Nothing else?" Eddie asked to be sure. Steve nodded and raised his hands in surrender. Eddie wanted to smack himself. Of course, he would react before asking or thinking anything through. Now there was a good chance he ruined everything. Steve would have been an adult and talked through things, he wouldn't have thrown a hissy fit and hurt her feelings.

Eddie went back out to his van, running to the store nearby to grab snacks and some flowers. The film is still sitting on the floor of his van. It wasn't too late to have that movie night.

With his tail between his legs, he knocked on her front door. A sorry expression on his face when she opened the door.

"What is this? Over your sickness already?" She sassed, crossing her arms as she stared at her boyfriend. He looked calmer than before, even looked a little sad and guilty.

His puppy eyes were always a weakness and he was too good at using it.

"I'm sorry for the way I acted. I...I thought you were interested in Steve and I got jealous when you came back with his number. I thought the worst and I know it was wrong because you'd never hurt me like that. I was just scared and hurt and I couldn't think straight. I talked to Steve and he said you wanted a job. I could have easily known if I talked to you instead of trying to hurt you back. I love you and I'm sorry." He explained, he held out the flowers for her to take, which she did.

She couldn't hide the tiny smile on her face as she smelled the flowers.

"Well, thank you for apologizing. And for recognizing what you did wrong. I think it's cute you were jealous, but being mean towards me doesn't make anything better for either of us. I don't want to be someone you want to hurt to feel better." Eddie nodded as she explained. She was right. They were in love, he shouldn't try to make her hurt worse when he was upset.

"I agree. And I will work on that. Can we give this movie night another shot?" He asked, a smile on his face as he held up the movie and snacks. His puppy eyes are still putting in their work.

"Get in here." Rolling her eyes but her smile was bigger than before. He raced inside, slipping off his shoes as he settled on her couch.

"This is two Fridays in a row at my place, you have to host the next two weeks," she said as she sat next to him.

"Deal."

[nb-octopus-writes]

once you’re in the hive, the other bees assume you’re supposed to be there

[Masterpost]

Chapter 4: Second Morning

wordcount: 1.9K

~~~~

The next morning, Virgil wakes not to birdsong, but to the sound of his alarm.

Blech, mornings. Morning jobs are evil and should be abolished.

Virgil reaches for his phone, but it isn't on the nightstand where it's supposed to be. The nightstand isn't on the floor where it's supposed to be. Virgil reaches out further, searching, and overbalances.

He falls.

This is going to hurt.

Virgil lands, and the floor is a lot closer than it's supposed to be, and also a lot cleaner. The wind is still knocked out of him, but he didn’t land on anything but carpet. It's carpet that was recently vacuumed, even, judging by the lack of dusty smell.

Too many things are not how they are supposed to be. Virgil opens his eyes and looks around.

This isn't his bedroom.

The alarm is still going off. Virgil spots his phone on the floor near him, and he turns off the alarm.

This isn't his bedroom. Virgil yawns. He'd been sleeping on a couch, but it wasn't his couch, either.

Oh, yeah. He'd fallen asleep at Remus's brother's house again. Oops.

…

He has work.

He hadn't meant to still be here right now. He's supposed to be in his own bed, in his own tiny apartment, sleepily snoozing his alarm. Not here.

He'll have to figure out a different bus route. Does the bus even go by here? He's pulling up the bus schedule when his phone informs him that it has been way too long since he plugged it in, and fucking dies.

“Fuck,” Virgil whispers, with feeling, and then again, a little louder, “Fuck!”

He scrambles off the floor, trying to think. An adrenaline spike does wonders for chasing the sleep-fog out of his brain, but it doesn't usher in logic.

Deep breath. Okay. What does he need?

He needs to get to work on time.

Breathe.

What are his obstacles, and what can he do about them?

Problem: He's not home to catch the bus. Solution: Catch the bus from here. Problem: He doesn't know if the bus goes by here or which one or when or what connections he'd need to make. Solution: Look it up. Problem: His phone is dead. Solution: Plug it in. Problem: No charger. Solution: …

Solution: …

Solution: Ask for fucking help.

Virgil spins and leaves the room. They might not have a charger that'll fit his phone, and it would take too long to get it to a level where he can actually look anything up anyway, but they can at least tell him if there's a bus stop nearby. They might even be willing to look up connections for him.

Luckily for Virgil, his hosts are all in the dining room when he bursts in.

“Good morning,” Calico says, already looking concerned. “What's wrong?”

“Is there a bus?” Virgil asks.

“A what?”

“A bus,” Virgil repeats. “A bus, does a bus go by here? I have work, I'm going to be late, and I can't look up the bus schedule because my phone is dead!”

“Hey, hey, it's okay,” Calico says soothingly, and Virgil wants to scream because it is not okay, he's going to be late for work. He doesn't scream, because that would not be helpful and Calico is just trying to be nice, but he wants to. “Roman can drive you. Right, Roman?”

“Absolutely,” says Princey, whose name is apparently Roman, and gets up. “I'll get my keys.”

Calico portions out some omelette from the pan in the middle of the table, and gives it to Virgil. “Here, eat,” he insists. “You slept through dinner, you shouldn't miss breakfast too.”

Virgil scarfs it mechanically. If Princey is going to drive him, he probably has enough time to eat, but the lingering edges of panic tell him not to waste any time savoring the flavors.

“Do you have any things you need to gather before you go?” Nerdbot asks. Virgil shakes his head.

Well. “My pool noodles I guess,” he says. He probably shouldn't just leave those here for them to clean up. Nerdbot nods and leaves the table as well.

Roman comes back as Virgil finishes the plate of omelette. “Ready to go?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

Nerdbot hands Virgil the pool noodles, and Calico hands him a buttered bagel. “Eat it on the way,” he says. Princey leads Virgil out to the garage, and they get in his car.

It's red, and fancy-shaped, with a swoopy silhouette instead of what Virgil considers the car default.

Roman hands Virgil his phone once he's buckled, open to the map app, and starts to back out of the garage.

Virgil hesitates. “Can we stop at my place first?” he asks. “I could really use a change of clothes.” He'd really rather not go to work in a Halloween costume he's been wearing for over thirty-six hours.

“Sure,” Princey says. “Which way?”

Virgil puts in his address, and the phone gives him directions. “Left,” he says, the tight band of anxiety finally loosing from around his lungs. It's not entirely gone yet, and won't be until he clocks in, but he's doing better. Princey pulls out of the driveway, and they're off.

Soon, they're pulling up in front of Virgil’s apartment. He'd managed to eat the bagel and navigate at the same time, and they've arrived a bit before Virgil is usually out the door. He really might make it to work on time.

“I'll wait here while you run up and get changed,” Roman says, and Virgil nods. He shifts the pool noodles so he's holding them with the same arm as the phone, and uses his other hand to open the car door.

He dashes up the stairs, unlocks his door at the speed of fright, and dumps his armload on his bed. Virgil strips quickly, and grabs his apron and the first set of clean clothes he sees. He wishes there was time for a shower, but there really isn't. Even if there was, he isn't about to make Princey wait that long for him.

He smears some black eyeshadow on to hide the tired bags under his eyes, grabs his necessities from his previous pockets, and he's back out the door.

“Very fast,” Princey compliments as Virgil rejoins him. “I saw a bus go by.”

“Yeah, that was my usual ride to work,” Virgil says, buckling up. “We can take a more direct route and beat them there. Head out the way you came in, and then take a right at the light.”

They do, in fact, beat the bus there. Virgil heaves a sigh of relief.

“Thanks, man,” he says. “I owe you my life. Do you want some coffee? I can give you my employee discount.”

Roman smiles at him. “I would love some coffee,” he says, and turns off the engine.

There aren't any other customers in line when they go in, just Jayden behind the register.

“Morning, Sunshine,” he greets. Virgil rolls his eyes and comes round to clock in.

“Oh my gosh I love your hair,” Roman enthuses. “That is absolutely gorgeous, did you do it yourself?”

Jay's hair is gorgeous. It's mostly dyed in deep shades of blue, with a few streaks of greens and purples and the natural black. He has it in at least fifty slender box braids, which today are tied back in a loose plait running down his back. 

“Oh, no, my friends and I had a styling party,” he answers, which is the short version of the truth he uses for casual conversation with customers—especially white customers. Virgil happens to know that said styling party had been stretched out over more than a week, working their hair in increments so as not to damage it. Virgil had been invited to a few of the sessions, and is responsible for several of Jayden's braids, and some of the color.

“That is a fabulous idea; I should arrange one the next time I dye my hair,” Princey exclaims. “I've been planning to do it in every color of the rainbow!”

“Nice,” Virgil says. Princey's ear-length hair is currently what appears to be a natural brown, with reddish tips. “Stripes running front to back or side to side?”

“You know, I hadn't considered that part,” Princey says, and Virgil laughs. “What do you think?”

Virgil shrugs, and Jay considers Roman.

“Front to back, with the red on top and purple over your ears,” he says. “Perhaps with the red a bit off-center so the stripes are different sizes. That way if it’s not perfect it'll look intentional.”

Roman grins. “I like you,” he declares. “Do you want to come to my styling party?”

Jayden grins back. “Let me know when you plan it and I'll check my calendar.”

“Have you ever dyed your hair?” Roman asks Virgil, whose hair is in fact currently dyed.

“Uh, yeah,” he says, then admits, “I'm actually blond.”

“You're blond!?” Princey cries. “Oh, that is unfair, Gerard Gay! Please trade with me, I beg of you!”

“Why?” Virgil asks.

“Because then I wouldn't have to bleach!” Roman says. “I could redye my hair as soon as the roots grew out, rather than having to wait until enough has grown that I can bleach it without touching the last dye job!”

“Well, unfortunately I don't know how to trade hair colors,” Virgil says. “I think it's genetic.”

Roman groans dramatically, slumping against the counter. “The world is against me,” he complains into the glass. “You wouldn't even miss it, you dye it black! Brown is as easy to make black as blond! Easier, probably!”

Virgil reaches over and pats him sarcastically on the shoulder. “There, there,” he says. “Would coffee make you feel better?” That is why they'd come in here, after all.

“No,” Roman says grumpily, but he straightens and looks at the menu.

“Give him my discount,” Virgil says to Jayden while Roman decides. Jay flashes him a thumbs-up.

“Are the chocolate croissants good?” Roman asks.

“Not as good as what you're served at home, but yeah.”

“Hmmm.” He considers a bit longer, then orders a croissant and, with a decent amount of dithering over flavors, three coffees to go.

Jayden tells him the total and Roman pays, dropping his change and some extra bills into the tip jar. Virgil passes him the croissant, and he eats it while Virgil finishes making the coffee.

“You want a carrier for these?” Virgil asks, already putting them in one. Roman's only got two hands, after all.

“Probably best,” Roman agrees, and Virgil slides the coffee over to him. “Do you need a ride home after work?”

“Nah, I'll take the bus,” Virgil reassures him.

“Alright, if you're sure. See you later!” Princey balances the coffees in one hand so he can wave with the other, and he's off.

“So,” Jay says once the door closes behind him. “Where'd you get the suave edition of your trash rat?”

“Two-for-one special,” Virgil says. “Met him at a Halloween party Remus dragged me to.”

“Well, keep him.” Jayden nods toward the door. “Man just tipped us double what I charged him.”

~~~~

Chapter 5: The Most Accidental of Thefts

[mediumgayitalian]

fic rec friday 19

hi!! welcome to fic rec friday. every week, i pick five fics i have bookmarked and rec them with a little review. check them out!

Falling For You (Literally) by peanutbutterapple

Will Solace was positively sure of two things. 1. He was unwaveringly devoted to his boyfriend of nearly a year, Nico di Angelo. 2. Of all the demigods at Camp Half-Blood, the Aphrodite kids were not to be toyed with.

love how theyre still working on their relationship in this one!! like they are clearly into each other and they know that but that is not Enough to sustain a relationship. cool commentary that relationships take work AND the work doesnt have to be hard/bad, there just needs to be effort. loved that.

2. I got a boy back home who's unlike any other by sunburst_city

“Ew,” Will says when he pulls away, licking his lips and grimacing at what Nico assumes is a mixture of stale sweat, dirt, and other things Nico would rather not think about. “You taste nasty.” “Excuse you. You try chasing down a rogue hellhound across a fucking bayou.”

this one was so cute!! it's a small thing but i love the dynamic where nico is such an Explorer you know. because it's very uniquely solangelo in terms of pjoverse!! they don't both want the same things. will is more of a homemaker and always has been. he's not a fighter and he doesn't want to be. he holds down the fort at home, he makes sure everyone is okay, he keeps people in line. whereas nico is right in the throes of the battle, in the middle of everything. they went on an adventure together and it was really hard for both of them. i like reading stuff where they have their own thing and they're very proud of each other for it.

3. fall asleep until it's only you and me by by sunburst_city

There is something frighteningly tangible about all her dreams involving Percy Jackson. 6 instances Annabeth dreams of Percy.

WHAT IF ANNABETH HAD GOOD THINGS HAPPEN TO HER HUH. WHAT THEN. WHAT FUCKIN THEN. WHAT IF SHE HAD A GODDAMN MOMENT OF PEACE IN HER LIFE ACTUALLY

4. Overhead by cabeswaters

Will and Cecil really need a new phone and Nico is weak for boys with freckles. (Or, Will overhears a conversation he wasn't meant to and for once it's not a bad thing.)

overheard is the best trope of all time idc. truly elite. there is nothing more romantic than discovering your beloved talks and talks and talks about how much they love you to others!! it is flattening!!

5. Watch Me While I walk Away by @buoyantsaturn

“Actually, I’m taking over the route - Connor, nice to meet you,” the driver said, before going through the usual sign here, first name, last initial spiel. “Thank you very much, and I’ll see you around!” 

oh being that whipped is EMBBARRASSINGG truly i get him. mitchell u are so real. and will is correct it is just like legally blonde how LUCKY

thank you for joining me this friday!! happy reading!!

[dollsofthewest]

AG Cowgirl Outfits

Following in the footsteps of @enby-dollhouse and @doll-collecting-aerialist, who did posts on the variety of ballerina and tennis outfits respectively, I wanted to do my take on a section of AG outfits I love: cowgirls! Saddle up and let's head out!

Rootin', Tootin' Cowgirl (1998)

Okay, so maybe this is the outfit that inspired me to do this post in the first place. This is adorable. It's rootin'. It's tootin'. I love the bright blue color. It's advertised as a Halloween costume, but doubles just fine as a fancy rodeo outfit. I do like the idea that you can be the sheriff, or the bandit, or both at the same time! And lest we forget to mention that black cat trick-r-treat bucket!!

Molly's Dude Ranch Outfit (2004)

Is anybody doing it like Miss Molly? This outfit was not connected with any book but released as part of a "Summer Fun" collection. I like to imagine Molly went to a dude ranch near Yellowstone National Park, or maybe somewhere along her Route 66 Adventure. It's cute and pretty authentic to rodeo shows. Also, look at her little canteen!

Nicki's Ranch Outfit (2007)

Most cowgirls don't wear the fancy rodeo costumes like a lot of people think: those are for the shows and fairs! During her daily work, Nicki wears her own pink version of modern jeans, chaps, and boots. And of course her staw hat to protect her from the sun.

Rustic Ranch Outfit (2008)

Another practical outfit; it may look impractical to wear a skirt but I've seen girls who prefer it, if they are riding side-saddle. The vest is kind've plain, but it comes with a horse-themed scrapbook and a (faux) leather Western Hat.

Western Riding Outfit (2010)

Definitely a casual pick for our cowgirl. Fit for farm or school, everybody knows exactly what animal is this American Girl's favorite. Like Nicki, this girl wears a straw hat, but she'll need sunblock if she's going to ride all day with those short sleeves and skirt!

Western Plaid Outfit (2014)

I like to think of this as Abercrombie Horse Girl. I'm not sure how practical that dress is for horse riding, and I'm a bit worried about those loose band around her boots. Still, this girl has something not previously seen, even with Nicki, and that's the very important helmet! Always wear a helmet while horse riding!!

Pretty Pink Riding Outfit (2014)

Sold at the same time as the previous one, so you could choose which outfit you wanted with your life-saving helmet. This girl is wearing what I liked to call Gucci Horse Girl.

Blue-Ribbon Riding Outfit (1998)

I forgot this one so I'm adding it here to show you what I would consider an Ideal Horse Riding outfit. Helmet: check! Proper boots: check! The coat even comes with functional pockets and inner thigh padding. She certainly gets the blue ribbon from me for best dressed!

Maryellen's Cowgirl Outfit (2022)

Ah, a return to classics! This is about as stereotypical "cowgirl" as you can get. As far as I'm aware, this is meant to be her Halloween costume, which tracks with how popular cowgirls & cowboys were during the 1950s. Lookin' cute, Miss Maryellen!

Lila's Horseback Riding Outfit (2024)

I think when Glen Campbell sang "Rhinestone Cowboy" he wasn't talking about this. Still, maybe this is what horse girls these days wear? It's a shame to see a modern girl without a helmet, but you can't deny this fits Miss Lila's style to a tee!

What is your favorite AG cowgirl/horse-riding outfit? What would you like to see made in the future?

[watchoutforthefanfics]

My John || Eleventh Doctor x gn!Reader

AVAILABLE ON AO3

Summary: At the news of an unknown distress call from the Tardis, the Doctor must go undercover. With the trust of thousands of years, he places himself (both watch and being) into your hands. Enter Dr. John Smith (not really a medical doctor just has his doctorate) your new roommate.

Inspired by: The Transmission by @fabulouspotatosister + 'ceilings' - Lizzy McAlpine

[[A/N: This was majorly based on the lyrics: 'But it's not real, and you don't exist'. So angst warning. But it has a happy ending, I swear. ]]

"It won't be long."

You could remember the creases of his face as he said it to you, the smooth of the worry in his brow -just because he didn't want you to see it. Well, you felt it now, the ache of days and nights and the heaviness of the watch in your pocket -you couldn't let go of it or put it out of your sight.

"When the time comes, you'll know."

You'd asked more about that then, about the how and the what and the why, but he waved it all off. 'You're clever,' he spoke, and you couldn't help the flutter in your stomach, '-you'll know.' So, you had prepared yourself to the life you found eerie compared to the previous one. Seeing John was... a domestic look on the Doctor and you weren't sure if it was good or bad for you.

"Honey, I'm home," he loudly announced, sing-songy with a cheer you couldn't quite match.

You exhaled, shook your hands, and stood to your feet, peeking out your bedroom door to where the Doctor... John stood.

He dressed differently now, more casual sometimes with the early morning pajamas. Today, however, he was dressed with a white button up and slacks, familiar, but matched with a long brown coat that had the same vibe as a trench coat but not the same material. And on the tip of his nose sat a pair of glasses, that you'd seen on the Doctor, yes, but rarely.

"Oh, so we have pet names now, dear?" You teased, watching as the tips of his ears began to burn a bright red.

It was natural, whatever banter you'd acquired. It was rather flirty, sure, but natural. You didn't want to think about what that meant too much.

"Dear?" He shriveled up his nose, "-What are we, an old married couple? I'd at least like to be dearest."

You snorted, walking towards the kitchen -which was right across the entry way, where he slipped off his shoes and placed his coat on the hanger. You were surprised by his organization in this light, especially since seeing some of the TARDIS's rooms.

"Okay, John dearest," you spoke, nose upturned as if you were pompous, "-may I ask how your day went? Were the kids okay today?"

He was a librarian at the local school, and sometimes on Saturdays he'd have extra readings for town square -he was quite the hit. With the voices he'd put on and the enthusiasm of the stories he told, the kids were enraptured. They weren't the only one.

"Of course," he grinned, "-haven't I told you, Thursday class kids are the best! Always desperate to learn that lot."

"Right," you carefully mixed the food upon the stove top, it wasn't on anymore but it was still warm enough to heat it up, "-that's the one with Charlotte in it, yeah?"

"Oh, yes, lovely Charlotte," he smiled, "-she'll go places I tell you. Today, she was negotiating an escape plan during recess, had a route down to the times."

You laughed, before siphoning off two servings and continuing, "And the meeting afterward?"

His demeanor dropped, as he pouted with a groan, "Boring, you know I hate to sit still for too long. Plus, George was just spewing nonsense statistics the whole time -didn't grasp onto much."

"Naturally," you hummed, taking a seat across from him as you placed his plate in front of you. You were usually the one to cook, not for... John's lack of trying, but more for the whole apartment's safety.

"What about you?" He countered, eyes attentive on you, it was unusual for you -the Doctor was usually everywhere all at once but John was often just an observer, "How was yours?"

The attention was odd, sometimes, but you'd grown to like it -despite how flustered it could make you. Depending on the day, and if his hair was messy and collar fussed. Luckily, he seemed well-composed today -a perfect picture of John, not the Doctor.

"Boring," you answered, not finding anything of note in your day. It was quiet mostly here, and you couldn't often chance going out without knowing where the Doctor was or if the threat was even still active.

"Oh, come off it," he dragged, his tone playful, "-you can do better than that. Go on, tell me. Anything new?"

You shook your head with a smile, "Not much, I'm just in the early stages now jotting ideas down in whatever form I can. There's not... It's all drafts."

You stayed home, under the illusion of being a writer -waiting for their big break. You did write though, detailing your adventures with well... him. It helped you sometimes when you missed him, and worst case scenario, it reminded you of what you were doing this all for. Because John's familiar soft smile and gleaming eyes were something you knew you could get yourself lost in.

You wished you could keep this version of him somewhere within you (locked away tight, yours), but you could never wish the lack of the Doctor in the world. Or even with you for that matter.

"I imagine it's lovely," he spoke, tone soft and the blush on his cheeks rising high, "-anything you make will be."

And there it was. The suspicious, fond gaze you'd caught from him now. It was happening more often, between the shared hours of the day you and John were domestic -connected personally, even. And you knew it felt that way, with him coming home, and sharing the space so intricately.

Just looking around the kitchen, you could see John just about in every crevice. An apron there (that said kiss the cook), some themed salt and pepper shakers (they were shaped like little animals), and the book he kept by the counter -he often sat there as you cooked, and you well enjoyed the company.

And everywhere else, you'd find him too. Little trinkets on bookshelves he just "couldn't live without", a few snowglobes from different cities (you found he was invested in traveling), and notepads just about everywhere. He always had something new to remember afterall.

"Well, thank you," you hummed, cursing yourself for the flush that went up your own cheeks. This isn't him, and he's not even himself.

How is that fair.

"But," you continued, playfully, "-I doubt you're an unbiased critic."

He made a big dramatic gesture with his hands to himself before speaking in a high-pitched tone, "Me? What? Never."

"John," you hummed, "-you're really not a good liar."

"Not to you," He smiled, his eyes carrying a whimsical shine that made your stomach swirl with familiarity, "You see right through me. I'll have you know, some of my classes think I'm a trainer of wild lions over the summer."

"You remember you teach children, right? They're fairly gullible."

"Pish-posh," he tsked, scooping some of the food into his mouth with a grace you found mostly unknown to the Doctor -other than tactful speeches and addressing an enemy, "-children are rather smart, just don't know how to use it yet."

"Yes, right," you countered, "-and this is an unbiased look, coming from a children's teacher, then?"

He rolled his eyes, a playfulness giving him away on his face, "Alright, you win. I'm shelving this argument for now."

"Just shelving it?"

"Yes," he confirmed, smiling up at you from his plate, and you felt your heart do a little twist in its place, "-anyway, I meant to ask you something."

You pursed your eyebrows at the sudden topic change, but pressed further on, "Yes?"

"Well, there's a-" he fidgetted with his fork, eyes now looking anywhere but you, "-a work thing Saturday. A big party, music and food. It's a celebration for getting halfway through the year, I suppose. Anyway, I just... well-"

"John?" You interrupted, clear, and concise but a touch concerned -had he seen something? Was it time?

"I'd like for you to come," he spit out, quicker than what was previously said but you still caught it (a symptom of the Doctor’s long-winded rants you supposed), "-with me. If you're not... busy."

"John," you hummed, with a grin, "-as if I'm ever too busy for you."

John smiled, the kind of smile the Doctor got when you were 'bloody brilliant' or so he'd put it. It made you feel special, all of your limbs felt like they were fizzing. The difference was now... you hadn't done anything. He looked at you like the stars were merely rocks, just because you'd said you'd go to a work party with him.

The Doctor wouldn't have done that. And that fact made your stomach twist in guilt, this wasn't really him. John wasn't really a person, just a shell of who he was meant to be and you were the only person so close to him.

And here you were, feeling things that you shouldn't with a man who only had you within this world.

Sure, he was giving you signals. Signals that made your head spin because you had always wanted them from that face, but it wasn't him. It's not fair.

"Brilliant," he grinned in response, before taking the two of your plates away with the same enthusiasm. He wouldn't wash them, he never did directly after dinner. Always said he didn't want to waste a moment.

And maybe you didn't want to either.

The next few days were busy for you, more than usual, you'd been trying to trace who had been after him for the past year. It had been a year. You were getting nowhere, mostly because he hadn't told you anything -'he' being the Doctor.

So, you weren't exactly ready when Saturday crawled up on you. John had practically been bouncing off the walls, fidgeting with his tie. He hadn't looked at you once as he navigated the space, grabbing things he'd strewn about -he looked so natural here. Fit here, with you.

It'd been familiar. You missed him.

Every day you did.

The Doctor jumping around the space, eager to tell you about the hills that stars grew on, or the alien race that communicated through smell.

"Isn't it brilliant?" He'd always be grinning so bright it could blind you, and he'd twirl around the controls for good measure. Eyes looking to you for your reaction, beautiful green twinkling with wonder you thought you'd lost when you were six. You had lost when you were six, but he... he brought it back.

"Y/N?" he spoke, well not him... but him, "Everything alright?"

John was in your space, a few steps away -maybe afraid to bridge the gap, he extended a hand. You'd realized then you were crying, the tears silent against your cheeks -you didn't even realize...

"If you're not-" he started, his fingers clenching in the air between the two of you like he'd wanted to touch you but wasn't sure, "If you don't want to go, we can stay."

We, he'd always said something like that -a package deal. Maybe you could live in your delusions for a bit, you could be selfish once.

With a breath, you closed the gap -connecting your hands and intertwining your fingers with his. His hand moved naturally... like it was meant for this... like his hand was meant to be in yours. It was intimate, something about you not being in direct danger and still holding him close.

You were safe, in your apartment; the two of you dressed dashingly, all for a party you were now bound to be late to.

"Wish I could," clearing your throat of the tears, you swung your hand and his between the two of you with the smallest of smiles, "-but my date is pretty handsome, couldn't bare to let him down."

John chuckled, you could still see the smear of concern in the pull of his brows but he could never really help it with you, "Handsome, really? This date seems very lucky then. From where I'm looking-"

You snorted, shaking your head and letting go of his hand -heading towards the apartment door, "We're going to be late, John."

"You started it," he pouted, before spinning around in a circle -eyes darting, "-wait, where's my coat?"

"John, darling," you hummed, pointing to the coat that was draped right across the back of the couch.

"Right, yes," he responded, grabbing it before freezing in place like your words had just now processed, "-did you say... darling?"

"Good observation."

"That's new, isn't it?" he asked, eyes intent on you for a moment -like you were a mystery he couldn't solve, "-I like it."

"Oh hush you," you snickered, not lingering on the slip any longer than you wanted to, "-we are so late."

John grinned bright and you saw him then -adventurous and wonderful, as he approached you -almost giddy, "I wouldn't have it any other way, darling."

The party was fuller than you'd expected, really. It wasn't just in some breakroom with dollar streamers and cupcakes with the kind of icing that stained your mouth. There were lights, music, and it was catered. With a mouthwatering buffet, mind you.

"John," you hush whispered, "-you didn't tell me it was fancy."

"How was I supposed to know?" he whispered back, defensive, "-This is my first one too!"

At that moment, two men walked up -each in a more dashing suit than the other, groomed to the nines. You truly doubted these guys were teachers, but based on the man that stood by your side... maybe it was true.

"Oh my," the taller one, who if you had to guess was the gym teacher spoke, eyes caught on you, "-John, is this the infamous Y/N?"

The other man straightened, eyes landing on yours, "No way!"

"Infamous?" You turned to John with a questioning brow, now this was interesting.

"It's not-"

"I'm Joseph," the taller one extended his hand to shake, before motioning to the man beside him, "-and this is my husband, Elliot."

"Not that I need to tell you," you smiled towards John, "-but I'm Y/N. It's wonderful to meet you."

"Gosh," Joseph began with a teasing smile toward John, who seemed like a branch in the wind, "-I feel like I know you already. John here's told me so much-"

"Alright," John erupted, the tips of his ears burning bright red -avoiding his eyes to yours, "-that's enough."

You added with a smile, playful, "Dearest, I'm not so sure. I'm quite interested in-"

He rolled his eyes, but you could see the quirk on his lips, "Yeah, yeah. You've had your fun. Now dance with me."

"What?"

"You promised me a dance, silly," he reiterated, pulling you away from the two to a space with less people -the music soft and echoing across the space, "-don't you remember?"

You narrowed your eyes, resisting the pull, "I certainly did not."

"Okay, well, then..." he paused, thinking and still holding your hand between the two of you -loosely, "-I'm asking you now. Will you dance with me?"

You stared at him, his face dancing in the lighting of the space and that strand of his hair falling in front of his eyes like it always did -god, you'd gotten used to him. There was an urge to brush it away, to hold his face -his precious, precious face.

Instead, you squeezed his hand, "Of course."

He smiled, and pulled you to the floor -eyes intent and focused, the music was slow, melodic. You assumed it was requested, based on the nature of the tones, didn't feel quite party to you.

"John," you confessed, "-I really don't know how to dance to this."

He laughed to himself, before gently guiding you the rest of the way to floor, "Don't worry, follow my lead."

John moved your hand to his shoulder, placed his hand on your back, and intertwined your free hands together without a second thought. It felt personal, really to be a breath away from him -for his hands to holding you close. Not in a hug, where you couldn't see his eyes.

But now you could.

"See, watch," he hummed, moving to step in a square -you knew this part, "-you're a natural!"

"You're just saying that," you echoed with a smile, unused to the flattery so close. So tantalizingly close that you could feel the breath of it on your lips. This had never happened.

"Y/N," he spoke, hushed, just for you to hear, "-did you ever think... you could... we could, really-"

"Yes?" you asked, eyes caught in his as you desperately tried to not step on his toes.

"Well, if you-" he began, before frowning, "-if you wanted we could maybe-"

A scream interrupted his sentence, loud and brash, and something within you snapped. You tried to get eyes on the obstruction, but the crowds running just dragged your eyes elsewhere. '... you'll know.'

"We know he's here," a voice slithered, yes slithered, through the crowd -the tone, unnatural, "-give him to us. NOW."

"When the time comes, you'll know."

Your eyes darted to John's who were frantically looking to you, almost checking you over, "John, we have to go."

He seemed speechless, "O-Okay."

You'd kept the watch on you, you could hardly leave it out of your sight -so the cold tingle against your side was quite comforting now. The clothes you were wearing didn't have much pocket space, but it had... something, after all.

Where to, you stared out at the intricate hallways, where to?

"WHERE IS HE?!"

There was a door down the way, space looked small, but it would have to work. You didn't have many options.

Pulling him into the space (a janitor's closet by the looks of it), you shut the door behind you two -making sure it wasn't an automatic lock. The darkness was all encompassing before you found the switch as you brushed your fingers along the wall.

"When you said out, I assumed you meant, well-" he spoke, tone shaky and it was moments like this where the difference was stark, "-out."

"John," you spoke, directly looking into his eyes, "-do you trust me?"

"What, yes-" he sputtered out, eyes lost and it would've been cute had you not been in the situation you were.

"Good," you spoke, before sticking your hand into his coat's pocket -the side he never used, and fished out what you were looking for. The sleek metal in your hand was unusual sure, but not... unwelcome, really.

John stared at it, eyes wide and breaths hollowing, "What... is that? I've never even seen that before! Was that in there the whole-"

"John, this is hard to explain," you exhaled, digging into your own pocket to pull out the watch -it was warm in your hands, "-but you are not John Smith."

"What?!"

"This," you pulled his hand over the watch in yours, you could almost feel it react, "-is you."

"Y/N," he echoed, "-I think you hit your head. You're acting-"

"Crazy," you finished, "-I know."

You could almost see the spandrels of gold connecting with his fingertips, twisting through the air to meet his skin. They were small though, delicate, easily cleared if he wanted them to be.

"Your name is the Doctor, you are an alien-"

"An alien?!"

"-the last one of your kind, Timelord," you continued, gently turning the watch to be in his hand, "-and the world needs you."

"This is-" he began, backing away -trying to push the watch back into your hands, "-ridiculous. My name is John Smith, I'm a librarian at Dexington Primary School. I have been for a year-"

"John-" you began -desperate.

"I got my degree, I met you on campus-" his tone was still fond somehow, "-you spilled your coffee on me, and wanted me to apologize-"

"John-" you interrupted, you couldn't hear this. Not now. Not when you were about to lose him.

"And I should've been mad. I should've been, but your smile was brilliant and I couldn't even think straight-"

"John, please." You echoed, tone gentle, soft.

"I thought you were the most beautiful person I'd ever seen," he looked up at you, eyes red and watery, "...How can that not be real?"

"Oh John," you hummed, tears of your own gathering -your hand coming to rest on his cheek, idly tracing the skin there, "-my darling John. It was."

John leaned into your palm, tears floating down his cheeks, and you wiped them away.

"This," you whispered, a bit breathless from the tears of your own and pointed between the two of you, "-was real. I know that."

"Then, why-" he began, eyes fluttering all over your face.

"You're-" you sighed, shakily and hesitant to let him go, "-you're not you, John. Not really."

"I want to be-" he started, reflecting his hand on your face -wiping at your tears, "-I just want to be your John. Why can't I?"

"Because you're the Doctor," you hummed, your heart breaking in your chest, "-and I can't take that away from the world."

He seemed to understand then, looking down at the watch with purpose -trying to see it for it was, you thought. His hands were shaking, and his eyes were heavy with a feeling you'd seen before in them, in the Doctor's eyes.

"I..." he whispered, looking back up into your eyes, "-I love you. Truly, I- I do. You have to know that, before I... Before I go."

"My John," you were crying now, the twist in your chest strong - an ache, a yearning, "-I love you too."

Without a second thought, you pushed forward, placing your other hand on his face -connecting your lips to his. You could be selfish twice, you decided, as you held his precious, precious face between your fingers.

It was bittersweet, the salt of your tears soiling your lips, but you really honestly couldn't change a thing. You wouldn't.

It was an ending you wouldn't forget.

With a breath, you pulled apart but let your fingers stay for a moment -eyes dancing around his face, to remember this. To remember John.

Because this... wasn't the Doctor, no matter how hard you wished it to be. It would be gone so very soon.

"You were lovely," you hummed, brushing his hair back and letting your fingers linger on his skin, "-I'll miss you."

With that, you stepped back.

"I'll miss you too."

He stared at you, green eyes so open, so vulnerable, he was hesitant -toying around with the watch in his fingers. You exhaled, shakily, and nodded.

John smiled, a brief one that you tried to commit to your brain, so fond... so loving. He didn't need to say anything else, so he flicked open the watch, and golden light burst into the room. It was so bright, you had to hide your eyes in the crook of your arm -the warmth biting up against your skin. It felt like a harsher version of the sun, searing across your skin, but it wasn't necessarily hurting.

And then, it stopped.

You looked up from behind your arm, and-

"Bloody hell," he spoke, gruff to himself, as he seemed to try to get something out of his ear, "-that was a rough one."

The joy you felt in your heart was immeasurable, but you still felt quite... broken open, splayed out like a puddle on the floor, and he was not.

He wiped at his eyes, noticing the tears -most likely, "What was I even-"

His eyes caught onto you, the eyes that you had missed -the extra heaviness, the extra wonder, and the infinite knowledge in that brain of his.

He lit up into a smile so bright that warmed you, "Y/N! Thank the stars, you look terrific."

The Doctor leaned forward, brushing a hand through your hair -it was longer now, "How long has it been?"

You paused, "About a year."

"Oh," he hummed, eyes everywhere but your face -thoughts quick and unraveling, "-that was a bit of miscalculation on my part... My bad. I didn’t think-"

His eyes finally landed on you, and he faltered. Moving quickly toward you, his hands unwittingly went to your face, wiping at the tears that had fled there. Your face was no doubt a wreck, sniffling nose and eyes scrubbed red.

"Have you been-" the Doctor paused, speaking softer, "Have you been crying?"

"I..." you began, but couldn't finish it.

"I was crying, too," he continued, "-well, not me but... me. What, so we were crying together that's-"

He fell silent, looking at you again -almost analyzing. There was a gleam, a shine of understanding, and you knew.

"You loved him," he concluded. The silence echoing loud after the words, bouncing around your head like a pinball machine, "-didn't you?"

You couldn't do this now, you really couldn't do this now, "Doctor, now is not the time."

Before he could say another word, you dug the screwdriver out of your pocket -it was shoved there when you... it didn't matter. Not now.

He narrowed his eyes at you, saying something you recognized to be 'we'll talk later', before accepting the tool with a grin, "Right then, duty calls, doesn't it?"

"As always," you quipped. He rewarded you with a grin that send your stomach into knots, one you'd missed so dearly.

The aliens who had come to him were fairly easy to handle, they were a bit too overconfident in their planning. The Doctor had simply slipped right in, and they hadn't been prepared for it. Hardly worth a year.

They underestimated him, you could tell. He was pouting about it. Had been for the last 10 minutes.

"What, they really thought I would fall for that?" He muttered to himself, as you both roamed the area -checking up on the masses, keeping an eye out for any injury that needed to be urgently dealt with.

And then you saw them, the men: Joseph and Elliot. They sat huddled together, comforting each other with what looked like some other teachers -their eyes widened in relief at the sight of the two of you, you assumed.

"Y/N, John!" Joseph exclaimed, the pull of his eyebrows lessening, "Thank god, you two are alright, are you hurt anywhere?"

He briefly scanned the two of you, seeming to come up with nothing, "-good."

"Joseph, right?" The Doctor asked, you knew he retained partial memories, so it made sense, "-Is everyone okay over here?"

"Yeah," Joseph answered, eyes flickering down the line, "-George sprained an ankle, but that seems to be the worst thing so far."

He was confused, you could tell by this new dynamic and the shift in... John. Your weren't sure how to even start in an explanation though, and the Doctor didn't seem too worried so you just waved it off.

"You're..." Elliot began, observing, "... different, John. You sure you okay?"

The Doctor chuckled, "I'm quite alright, never been better really. I'm just... not quite John."

"If I hadn't seen snake people about 10 minutes ago," Joseph responded, "-I'd say that's weird... but now? Do you just... You're not John?"

"No, well yes," the Doctor scrambled, "-John is like a piece of me. Just a part of my whole self, really. I... felt all the things John felt, saw what he saw. It just wasn't fully me."

They nodded, and he took it as means to continue.

"The rest of me was locked away, kind of," he spoke, face trying to track what he'd say, "-does that make sense?"

"The most I've heard today," Joseph quipped, "-which is not very much."

"Well," he grinned -wide and bright, the knowledge of worlds blooming behind his eyes, "-that's all I can ask, really."

"Are you two okay?" You asked, eyeing the two with a sensitive eye.

"Yes," they smiled at you, both of them had such kind eyes, "-we came up unscathed, luckily."

You sighed in relief, "Okay, good."

"Right then," he hummed, eyeing you with an eye you found familiar, questioning concern, "-off we pop, keep in touch, will you?"

"Don't you know it... uh-"

"The Doctor," you clarified, "-world-saving alien."

"Doctor, okay," he laughed -despite looking quite in shock, it was almost just adding to the pile rather than well... being a new type of weird, "-try and stay safe, will you? I may not... know you, but I know John. I rather cared for that bloke."

"We will," you answered, your smile a little bittersweet -you couldn't think about it too much now. Later.

The plan originally had been to go to the Tardis, but this outfit had been one of your best -you wouldn't let it be lost deep in the hallways. You'd already lost at least 3 hoodies in there -limited edition ones, too. And the Doctor was like a lost puppy, so he'd be sure to follow behind.

John had been the same in that sense, showing you things, gravitating towards the same room, and practically pouting for entertainment when you sat still for too long.

The trip up the stairwell was unusually silent, you'd felt odd in the presence of the Doctor and well... silence. It felt like he was always talking, and if by some chance he wasn't, he was everywhere. Big motions filling up a space, he'd almost always have a spotlight shining on him -attention on him anywhere he went.

It was the curse of the companion to fall in love with the wonder, one you knew well.

But this part of the Doctor was rarely there, this part was the kind where he'd stay silent for days -thinking about something in particular. An anniversary of an event, he wouldn't say what; the only way you could tell was he wouldn't be jumping to go elsewhere. He'd stay right there.

You felt that same part here, following you to the apartment that you... that you used to share. Kind of. You weren't quite sure where his memories were, what he remembered about the year (or even the past few hours for that matter).

The door swung open, and the silence only intensified. Large and unmoveable, you were sure how to even approach it. Or if he even wanted you too.

"It's... blurry," he spoke, dusting his fingers along a snowglobe (one of his, technically) -you held back the twinge in your heart. John was everywhere in here.

"What is?" You questioned, absentmindedly playing the ends of one of the coats that hung there -it wasn't yours, but you thought you might keep it.

"The line between me and him," he answered, eyes scattering to different things littering across the space.

Looking at it, it looked very domestic.

The pairs of shoes by the door, the mugs paired by the stove -ready for tea, the pair of pillows decorating the couch -you'd both chosen one. It felt so... stuck together, you could barely breathe.

"There's things I know I..."

"Doctor," you shook your head, swallowing down the lump of tears in your throat -you were grieving... over someone right in front of you, "-you don't have to do this..."

He pursed his lips at you, furrowing his brow, "Do what?"

"This," you motioned to him, holding the snowglobe -close to his chest, "-I know John isn't you. You don't have to... I know."

"Y/N," he began, now placing the trinket back on the shelf, "-what are you talking about?"

"Doctor, it's embarrassing enough as it is."

"What is-" He questioned, roaming closer, "Y/N, you're making no sense."

"Stop," you rolled your eyes, walking further into the room, and of course he only followed you. What were you going to do with all this?

"Look at me," he held your biceps, guiding your eyes to his, "-does it look like I'm lying to you?"

You squinted at his, trying to closely analyze his face -you knew it, his tells, his existence was painted in the skull of your brain. Both Timelord and human now, you supposed.

"No," you decided -still not quite over the lump of emotion in your throat, would you ever be?

"Right then," he cleared his throat awkwardly and let go of your arms, "-good."

This was something starkly different, the Doctor fluttering away from affection so easily -stepping out of the space and not being aware anymore. John... He felt like he was looking at you, always looking at you. Maybe because he had nothing else to look at, but you liked to think it was because he wanted to. You hoped he did.

"Stop-" the Doctor interjected, the silence of the room breaking like glass -harsh and loud, "Stop thinking so loud."

You rolled your eyes, not wishing to deal with this side of him now -not when you felt like you were digging a grave for someone standing right in front of you. It was odd, the twisted feeling of watching what you knew to be the Doctor around the room. (The only real difference being the godforsaken bowtie. He'd stolen it at the party, the janitor -an older man with a kind smile, had easily given it away.)

He belonged here, you knew that. Hell, even before the last year, the Doctor would pop in for visits -movie nights, just to try something human he'd heard about, or his impatience on waiting for you. He had a spot then, sat on one of your wider windowsills -staring down at the streets below, or the lit up city, you weren't sure. The man just couldn't sit in a regular chair.

John hadn't done that. Sure, he'd made himself cozy in every space possible that he could, including the kitchen cabinets once (hell of a day), but never... never the windowsill. He hadn't wondered about what was outside, his whole world was right...

"Here," you hummed to yourself, tracing the tips of books on the shelves.

You saw that now, John had no need for adventure, no spark to see something new. He'd been content. Happy with just you.

The Doctor couldn't be like that, you knew that. He never could.

You weren't sure you'd ask him to.

"I wish I could," the Doctor spoke, a chuckle lost in the whisper of his words.

"What?"

He seemed to pause, thinking about his next words -the Doctor thinking never really meant anything good. But, you still found you waited.

"Your John," he finished, "-I wish I could be him."

You froze in your place, your breath hitching in your lungs -so, he had remembered, "We really don't have to-"

He seemed to continue, as if your words hadn't even been spoke, "You have to understand, Y/N, John is a part of me. Sure, without the extra bits, but still me. Me in my most basic form, human."

You didn't know what to say.

"Well," the Doctor corrected, "-human...ish. Not really an exact science, just kind of takes the regeneration energy and-"

"Doctor," you exhaled, tired, "-what is this all about?"

"You don't," he began, face furrowed into one of curious concern, "-You don't know?"

"Know what?"

He seemed to falter to a pause, like he was planning his next move. Or thinking of his next words again. You wondered what he had to be so careful about -you misinterpreting?

In a blink, he was in front of you -digging around through his pocket before he found what he was looking for -the watch, "Did I ever tell you how this works? The Chameleon Arch?"

"You mean the watch?" you questioned.

"I'll take that as a no, then," he started, fingers mindlessly tracing the Gallifreyan on the front, "-the technical part of it is called a Chameleon Arch, Gallifreyan tech. Original duty is to change an individual's species. Technically, it changes your biology -a very painful process, really, I'd know."

"Right," you flinched, remembering the brief moment he'd experienced it before, "-I... remember."

He frowned at you, seeming to not remember that you had seen that, "It's connected to the Tardis, gives me the backstory, but... it's never been an exact science."

You paused, looking at the Doctor with eyes of curiousity -he seemed to have a point to this ramble. He never had a point to his rambles.

"It takes bits and pieces from me," he hummed, demostrating with the air in front of his hands, "-the person it creates isn't entirely from the Tardis, not really."

"What do you mean?"

"Like a motivation," he hummed, debating on whether or not finish it -eyes looking your direction but not at you, "-or a hobby, or a..."

The Doctor froze in his place, eyes focused on his hands in front of him -slowly, his eyes rose up to meet yours, "A... feeling."

You were confused for a moment, watching him. He'd frozen in place, yet his eyes stayed trained on yours. You couldn't quite grasp it, what he was trying to convey to you. Until...

Until you truly looked at him.

There was something erry about him, something on his face that felt off, but at the same time, ever so natural. So right, yet so wrong.

And then it hit you, there it was. The suspicious, fond gaze.

"Doctor," you spoke, disbelieving.

"Y/N, you have to know," he continued, despite your plea, "-you really truly have to-"

"Doctor, please," you hadn't wanted to go through this again -the hope of loving the Doctor could only hurt you, "-you aren't thinking straight. Th-That's John, not you-"

He was confused, twisting memories together, you couldn't... you couldn't chance it.

"Y/N," he was getting closer to you now, voice steady and distinct, "-it started with me."

You froze in place, blinking as if he'd vanish right in front of your eyes. It was almost like a hallucination for a second, because he (the Doctor, not John) could not mean what you thought he meant.

"It took the bit of me that was..." he corrected, watching you as if you could break with slightest of touches, "-is in love with you."

"You do?" you began, sputtering -you weren't sure what to say, "...N-Not John?"

"Well, technically both," he grinned and you felt your stomach twist into a pretzel. God, what were you going to do with him?

"Oh, shut it," you huffed out.

You could definitely be selfish a third time afterall.

In a blink, you pulled his face towards yours -the steps towards him quick and brash but the way you touched his face was different. Gentle, you trailed your finger along his cheekbone for a second.

Your breath mixed with his, he was just looking at you. Like there was nothing else to look at.

Like he was... happy with just you.

God had he been hiding that look the whole time? -peeking over books as you read them, staring at you as you walked around the Tardis fitting in just like a missing puzzle piece.

"It was all me," he whispered, distracted, sure, but still answering you. Stupid Timelord telepathy and stupid handsome aliens.

And maybe you were a little stupid too, but he didn't need the ego boost, truly.

"Hey-" he pouted out, and the jut of his lip almost made your heart flatline -sure you were almost there but you hadn't worked up to it yet.

The Doctor paused, noticing your stiffening in place, the way your eyes darted to his mouth for a second -a split second, and he grinned.

And for a second you thought he might pull back, and make up some excuse, but instead, his hand came up to the side of your face. Surprisingly smooth fingertips detailing the dips and pulls of your face, you could barely breathe at the closeness.

"Wonderful," he spoke, so quiet you could barely hear him -made you wonder if was even for you to hear. Or if it was just... for him, "-You're wonderful."

"Doctor," you almost cried, the movement so soft, so careful. Like he never wanted to forget the face. You held his face close, a breath away from you and this burst of fondness flooding your chest you just couldn't even describe really.

So, you held his face, trailing your fingers along his jaw -showing it the only truest way you knew how, "My Doctor, my darling Doctor."

And you kissed him.

[under-lore]

Toby Fox once made a post saying that he didn't want to sell merch of Chara because it would trivialize what they meant in game and the message they carry, do you have any idea what he could have meant by this?

Well, obviously this topic is inherently speculative so take it with a grain of salt, but there still exists some room to try and analyse it nonetheless.

Here is the post in question :

First, he uses "i" in the first sentence, and then "Because".

This immediately tells us that Toby Fox personally is the one that is opposing merchandise of Chara being made, and that all the things which will come afterwards are about what he was intending to do with them as a character in Undertale and why that makes the idea of Chara merch bothersome to him.

This isn't the only time Toby has shown to be picky about Chara-related content. For example, he has only openly promoted fan content containing Chara once since the game was released (and they were not the main focus of it) whilst the rest of the cast is seen quite often.

In general, Toby is quite dodgy when it comes to the first fallen human as a character. Sometimes even acting as if they didn't exist.

But as the mail also repeats, that isn't because Toby doesn't care about Chara, but rather because he does care about their character. Like how Toby actually went ahead and personally intervened to change Chara's Tarot card (Along with removing the Gaster one entirely), even if those weren't even official merch anyways. He does care about how they're being portrayed at least.

Okay, so next is our main puzzle piece.

The reason why he doesn't want Chara merch is because Toby considers that merchandise of Chara would have to portray them in a way that does not allow to properly represent what Chara stands for in-game, and thus fail to convey the message that they were intended to carry.

To rephrase this, he considers that if he were to make Chara merch, then "merch Chara" would be incapable of portraying correctly what he actually intended "in-game Chara" to be, and thus miss out on a significant portion of their character & what could be taken from it.

So he would rather not have merch at all rather than to have merch that misses the point of who "in-game" Chara was intended to be.

Since the only direct hint we have about this is that what Toby meant couldn't have been portrayed with merch properly, then the only way to obtain more insight into what he meant exactly is to go about it the other way and to ask which pieces of Chara's character merch could have portrayed and work backwards.

A prime example of what could have been done for Chara merch would be content similar to the Tarot card mentioned earlier.

As that card shows, it is far from difficult to make designs that capture most of the concepts and themes that are explicit-genocide-route-dialogue-specific & are said by or associated to the character.

To cite only a few that can be seen from this card, life & death & killing, power, demonic parallels, the number 9, the absolute, statistics, consequences, souls, knives, nothingness,...

(Side note : The person who made the Tarot card actually did not even know about the name "Chara" at the time, they weren't really a fan of the game and mostly went along with their first impression of the genocide route & the fanon of the time.)

Aside from perhaps their relationship with the player, there is frankly nothing about the direct Chara appearance at the end of genocide & the heavily Chara influenced flavor text of the end of the route that cannot be easily shown through merch. (Just look at all the fan content over the years)

And considering the way Toby acts merch-wise with Frisk and with Kris respectively, we can be pretty confident that their relationship with the player is not the reason that Chara merch is being blocked either.

So with that, we can be pretty much sure that what he meant wasn't about the explicit-genocide-route-only parts of in-game Chara.

Aside from the genocide route, the only other direct appearances of Chara are that of pre-death Chara. Between their fall into the underground and their death after the failure of the plan.

While we don't have clear cut examples like the Tarot card here, we do still run into the same problems.

The game implies a lot of things about pre-death Chara in many different ways. But all of those details or personality traits are either not much of a problem to portray or are also shared with other characters who do have merch made of them, meaning they can't be it either. (Its usually Undyne)

Not to mention that, when it comes to pre-death Chara, the game itself does show us some sepia artworks of Chara & The Dreemurrs. Like this one for example :

If properly representing those character traits of pre-death Chara was truly what this was all about, then why not simply make merch out of a colored version of that image if nothing else ?

It's in the game, right ? So surely it can't possibly be misrepresenting the game...

A trivialisation means to downplay something or to reduce it to something simpler.

If both pre-death Chara and genocide route-Chara & what the game shows about them could be represented with merch like any other character, but that Toby considers that doing so would still be missing out on an important part of Chara's character & their message, then the only conclusion would seem to be that Toby is not refering to any of the direct appearances of Chara in the game at all, but rather to another seemingly very important side of Chara that isn't shown directly in-game, and couldn't be through merch either.

While those could still be accurate in theory by themselves, making merch of Chara like this sepia art or the Tarot card would still be trivializing them in Toby's mind in the sense that it would be limiting Chara to only those things, and thus exclude that core part of their character from "merch Chara". Something that Toby refuses to do.

So our situation would seem to be : There is more to Chara than just what we are told about pre-death Chara and genocide route Chara. However, this part of Chara's character cannot be properly shown with merch yet is too important to ignore in Toby's mind.

There is one last thing we can say about what this part might be, though.

Toby seems quite insistant on the fact that this particular part of them was absolutely key to understanding what was Chara's role as a character in the game, and to understanding the message that he was trying to convey through this character.

A character's role & message can be conveyed through their story, through their actions, and through their mentality.

As we've seen earlier that this part of Chara was not an explicit appearance, the "actions" part is either minor enough to miss, or absent.

So it would seem we can be somewhat confident that this piece of Chara's character that Toby is worried about also either adds more implicit parts to Chara's story or gives important insight on their mentality (or both).

That would make Toby's core reason for not wanting to make merch of Chara be less about Chara's character itself and more about what the player is to understand from the way he constructed their character, which would match up with his words about it being "something that cannot be bought in a store", too.

Anddd... As far as purely impartial analysis goes, i think that's pretty much all that you can deduce, unless i've forgotten about something.

If you want my personal opinion on it, though, i would have to say that using NarraChara theory would be a really elegant way to fill up all those blanks.

Considering that the theory, if true, would constitute 90% of Chara's character & be absolutely crucial to understanding the character's mentality and the way they think or behave in different situations or routes, that would certainly make it key to understanding Toby's intent with the character relative to their message or what they would stand for.

I can also hardly see plausible alternatives. Considering that pre-fall Chara and post-game Chara are pretty dry wells in that regard and genocide Chara's words about when they were "brought back to life", the only moments left timeline-wise for this key part of Chara's character to happen would be during neutral/pacifist routes or during the part of the genocide route that weren't already brought up earlier. That would make it seem like a pretty natural answer.

But more importantly, anything to do with the NarraChara part of their character (if the theory was intended) literally couldn't be properly represented through merch.

Because, unlike the common fanon portrayal of it which exists for that same reason, NarraChara according to in-game flavor text wouldn't be a ghostly figure floating around Frisk, but rather a foreign entity sharing their body and their mind. Which is a crucial part to both how NarraChara would work in-world and to the morality-wise implications of it.

Of course, that didn't prevent some fans from sweeping that under the rug anyways, even though it misses one of the most important points of the character they're trying to represent.

That might just be why Toby would rather just not.

How would you make merch of that ? You would just be making merch of Frisk instead... Let alone portraying correctly such a complex character. It just wouldn't work. This is a pretty common problem for media with bodysharing characters, those mechanics and all the implications that follow genuinely just cannot be "sold in stores."

They are a purely psychological experience.

[age-of-play-i-say]

Sentence prompts, huh? Well, never let it be said that I'm not predictable...

"Oh sweetie - if you can't hold it anymore, just do your tinkles on teddy..."

-🐻⚡️

CG and potty-training Little are heading home from what was supposed to be a quick Saturday afternoon errand run: dropping things at the library, stopping by the grocery store, and then picking up some Thai food for tonight. Because they had meant to be out for 90 minutes, 2 hours tops, CG allowed Little to wear big kid undies, just this once! Little was so excited, they have yet to be out of the house with no padding since the potty training started! This will be their first test, and they're determined to prove themselves as a big kid. CG even asked them at the restaurant if they needed to go. Little knew home was a 10 minute car ride away, so they said no. They wanted CG to have no excuse to diaper them up for every outing like this. Unfortunately, the universe has other plans, and the two of them get stuck behind a car accident caused by some serious surprise road construction. No escape routes, no turn offs, no diapers, let's go.

CG: Whoa, what's going on up here? This wasn't here on our way down to the store.

Little: looks scary daddy!! *clutches teddy tightly* shiny stuff all over da road. . .

CG: Pieces of the car, yeah. Wow, looks like the clean-up crew just got here. We're gonna be sitting for awhile, Baby. Here, why don't you enjoy your bubble tea and watch a little Emperor's New Groove on Daddy's phone?

Little: really Daddy?? *bouncing in their booster seat*

CG: Yes, you've been so good for me and I don't want the accident to scare you. Go to your happy place, sweetie, I’ll call you back when we're ready to move.

10 minutes later:

Little: drinkie all gone Daddy! *wiggling with teddy* we almos goin home??

CG: Not yet, Baby. Looks like it's pretty complicated up there. Good job with your drink! Are you doing okay with your movie?

Little: *wiggling faster* hh- mm-hmm! how much longer till home??

CG: I don't know yet, Baby. Be patient for Daddy, okay?

10 minutes later:

CG: I know it's not fun, Baby, but it's gonna be okay, looks like the crew is about halfway done with their work. Can you keep being good for Daddy?

Little: umm!! wanna be good, wanna be big kid!! but um!! *hides face in teddy and plunges one hand down to hold tight against their baby parts, sniffling*

CG: Oh no! Does my sweet Baby need to make tinkles? And you were doing so well with your big kid undies, too!

Little: *crying and potty dancing in their seat with their hand on their undies* no fair!!!! ‘s no fair, Daddy, am a big kid!!! b-but needa make tinkles!! emerg-*hiccups, begins to wail* emergency!!

CG: Oh Sweetie, - if you can't hold it anymore, let's just do your tinkles on Teddy. Here, I’ll take him. Lift up your tush off the seat. Shhhh, it's okay, we’ll wash him at home.

Little: ahh! hhh teddy feels good, Daddy!! *wiggling and sniffling* woulda m-made it!! stupid cars!! stupidt road!! *crying louder again*

CG: I know it, Baby. This won't count against you for future big kid clothes, okay? For now, we gotta get those tinkles out before they start hurting. Come on, sweetie, you can do it. Can you show Daddy how you’d make peepee in your big kid potty at home?

Little: y-ye Daddy *reaches out to cling to Daddy's hand and sniffles once more before a loud hissing noise fills the car* ahhhh - m-makin peepee Daddy!! mmm teddy all wet!

Daddy: There we go, good Baby! That's Daddy's good, sweet Baby. Oh, that sounds like it feels good, sweetie. Are you feeling better?

Little: almos done peepee Daddy feels so good! *stream finally slows to a trickle and then stops while Baby shivers* hhhah all done tinkies!!

Daddy: And it looks like we’re moving again! Good job, Baby! Tell you what. You're right, that wasn't fair, and you didn't make a mess in your carseat. We’re calling this a success!

Little: really?? thank Daddy!! *bouncing on Teddy until Teddy squelches, then a little whimper*

Daddy: We’ll be home in 10 minutes now, Baby, but I have a question for you. Big kids get to choose, so when we get home, do you want to be cleaned up and keep wearing big kid undies? Or do you want soft, cozy protection after all of that? Keep in mind you won't have Teddy to snuggle for a few hours while I clean him up.

Little: ohh umm *hides face in hands* wan diapies Daddy, please!

CG: Of course, sweetie. You can wear your diapers, Daddy understands.

[f1letters]

labyrinth | aa23

"uh-oh, I'm falling in love, oh no, I'm falling in love again"

summary: it's safe to say she wasn't expecting to fall in love so quickly after just ending a five-year relationship, but alex albon was just everything she needed without even realizing it

warning: overall fluff with a little hint of angst, rom-com vibes, brother's best friend, recent breakup, mentions of falling out of love with someone, reader's ex has a name (Harry), mentions of Alex breaking his collarbone when he was cycling with George (I still remember laughing so hard when I read about this lol), reader completely clueless that her feelings are reciprocated, big romantic gesture in the end, swearing

pairing: alex albon x russell!reader

word count: 3.9k

note: everything in bold are song references and in italic are thoughts, which includes memories from the past.

living for the rom-com content this week! haha, I hope everyone enjoys their daily dose of sweet, fluffy, perfect alex because he owns my heart and I'm always a sucker for the brother's best friend trope! haha

masterlist

"It only hurts this much right now"

Was what I was thinkin' the whole time

Breathe in, breathe through, breathe deep, breathe out

I'll be gettin' over you my whole life

Having the painful realization that you fell out of love with someone you still adore immensely feels almost like losing touch with reality for a moment.

All of a sudden, your entire life changes.

You find yourself loving old memories more than the opportunity to create new ones. 

You feel afraid of leaving all the plans and all the dreams you spoke of fulfilling behind.

You realize you're trapped in the past, stuck in the old idea you still have preciously stored in your head of how they used to be.

Y/N felt like she was losing a part of herself now that Harry was gone.

It was five years together after all. Five years of ups and downs, of laughter and tears, of happiness and anger, of dreams and nightmares.

But as much as she tried to find the butterflies she felt at the beginning in every detail of him, when the young woman looked at her long-time partner she could only see traces of what they once were.

Stupidly, it hurt more that they'd broken up on nice terms. Maybe if they'd had a dramatic, fiery ending she'd have had an easier time moving on.

But fuck, he was still one of the best people she'd ever met. Things just weren't working anymore and their paths didn't seem to align anymore.

Y/N was more than convinced that she would be getting over him her whole life.

At that point, her only source of sanity was her brother's unconditional support. Well... Sanity might have been a strong term.

George had become a true helicopter brother, constantly glued to her side, even if it meant dragging her around the world with him.

It had been a month since Y/N and Harry had been separated and the girl had managed to cross three continents in that time. What a fancy way to deal with heartbreak.

But in one of the few moments when the younger Russell managed to escape her sibling's watchful eyes, Y/N found herself with tears in her eyes, her heart shattered on the floor and her head spinning.

As much as she tried to suppress the sobs that were coming out of her mouth, her cries did not go unnoticed by the attentive ears of the Thai driver who passed by the Mercedes motorhome on his way to visit his best friend.

You know how scared I am of elevators

Never trust it if it rises fast

It can't last

Taking a detour from his previously planned route, Alex carefully approached the crying girl, placing a hand on her forearm which made her turn towards him abruptly.

He felt a tightness in his chest as soon as he saw her smudged, red eyes. "Hey little Russ, are you okay?"

Y/N quickly wiped her eyes with the back of her black long sleeve, putting on a forced smile. "Alex, hey! Oh, it's nothing, I'm okay. Don't worry."

"You were always a terrible liar, you know that?" The boy leaned against the wall, his eyes still fixed on hers. "You can talk to me, Y/N. I promise I'll take your secrets to the grave. Scout's honour!"

The young woman laughed. She knew that the driver was someone she could trust. After all, he had been a constant presence in her life for many years now through George, even if she was never that close to him.

"It's so... Stupid, I feel ridiculous." She confessed, looking up at the open sky and letting out a sad sigh. "Harry is seeing someone new."

"Harry as in your bore of an ex Harry?" She rolled her eyes but nodded yes. "Damn, already? Do you think... Do you think he was already seeing her before you split?"

"No, he wouldn't." The girl spoke. "The thing is neither of us was happy in that relationship, and I know we made the right choice, but... It doesn't hurt any less to see the person who was with you for years move on."

Not knowing exactly what moved him to do so, Alex let his hand run along her soft hair in an act of comfort. Y/N found herself feeling a familiar feeling in her stomach, although she wasn't sure what it was.

"Look, don't waste your time dwelling on that." The driver said as he continued to play with the ends of her locks. "I'm sure that someday he won't be more than a distant memory and that you have a bright future waiting for you with someone who makes you feel like the best version of yourself."

"Alex Albon, what an amazing motivational speech, who knew you were so poetic!" She made him laugh and then hugged him from the side, resting her face on his arm. "But really, thank you. I needed this."

"Anytime, little Russ." He rested his face on the top of her head momentarily, only to push away almost immediately. "So, ready to see your brother get his ass kicked today?"

Y/N felt her palms sweat as she walked next to the boy on their way to her brother, still confused about the sudden effect Thai had on her.

It's just a moment of weakness, it won't last, she tried to convince herself, he's your brother's best friend for God's sake.

Uh-oh, I'm fallin' in love

Oh no, I'm fallin' in love again

Oh, I'm fallin' in love

I thought the plane was goin' down

How'd you turn it right around?

From that moment on, and for some reason mysterious to both of them, they seemed to seek each other out whenever the occasion presented itself.

Y/N would purposefully extend her path to Mercedes on race days in hopes of passing Alex by Williams to wish him luck.

And boy, if Alex didn't make an effort to spend as much time outside the motorhome as possible praying that the girl who he couldn't get out of his head would show up, even if she always had George next to her.

In the middle of all their yearning, the two had started an unspoken tradition during the weeks that followed, which made them feel all warm and fuzzy inside in true puppy love fashion.

On another Sunday like all the others, Alex was lost in conversation with Lando in front of his team's motorhome when - to his shock - he saw the girl about to pass by him... Alone?

Leaving his friend behind with just a few words and a confused look on the British driver's face, Alex hurried over to her, putting his arm around the girl's shoulders.

"Well, well, well... What do we have here? A rare sight of Y/N without her bodyguard?" He spoke with a mischievous smirk.

"Yeah, looks like I got left behind today." Y/N chuckled, eyes twinkling in his direction.

"I never seem to get you alone around these parts. Is Georgie really that controlling?" Alex laughed, knowing full well that his friend had always been very protective of his sister. 

Yikes, if he only knew the way his best friend thought about her now.

"So you wanted to get me alone, unh?" Y/N teased the man, without controlling the flirtatious energy with which her question came out of her mouth.

Alex was taken aback but didn't hesitate to respond with the same tone. "And what if I wanted to?"

"Didn't know you were such a flirt, Albon!" She said, teasingly. "My brother, on the other hand, might not be very happy that his best friend is trying to make a move on his baby sister." The girl stated with a serious look, although her mouth still revealed a smirk.

"He doesn't need to know." The driver said as he started walking back to the building, but not before turning to her again and speaking. "If you don't have plans tonight, let's do something. What do you say?"

"I'll think about it." She said, grinning from ear to ear. "Good luck, lover boy."

Uh-oh, I'm falling in love, she realized as her heart pounded in her chest.

It only feels this raw right now

Lost in the labyrinth of my mind

Break up, break free, break through, break down

You would break your back to make me break a smile

Y/N really thought of not going. 

It would've spared her the inevitable heartbreak she was going to go through when her brother eventually found out that she had feelings for Alex.

But on the spur of the moment, the young woman chose to worry about her fears later and take her chances, as she stormed out of her hotel room towards the driver's.

Y/N knocked on his door nervously and it only took a few seconds for Alex to show up, with only his shorts on, his hair dishevelled and his toned chest on full display.

"Y/N, you came," he said, an obviously surprised look on his face. "I thought you had bailed."

Oh great, he has someone in there with him, she thought as soon as she saw the strands of his golden hair all tousled. "Oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't know you had company. I'm going to g-"

"What?" He asked lost until he realized the state he was in. "Oh no, no, no! I ended up falling asleep when I realized you weren't com- Or rather when I thought you weren't coming. Please, come in."

The girl entered the room, studying her surroundings while Alex put on a sweatshirt.

"I honestly had lost all hope that you were going to show up," He chuckled timidly. "But I'm so glad you proved me wrong."

After some discussion, the two ended up settling on ordering room service and rewatching The Office - obsessed with the show they had seen it dozens of times over the years - while they ate their late dinner sitting on his giant bed and talked to each other about everything.

"Why did you guys go cycling into the middle of the forest... If the brakes on the fucking bike didn't work?" Tears were now streaming down the girl's eyes, she was laughing so hard at the story Alex was telling her.

"Hey, stop laughing! I broke my collarbone!" The driver already felt stomach pains from laughing so hard and he pushed her until she fell backwards onto the mattress. "And you should know I saved your brother's ass! I gave him the good bike and that's how the universe thanked me!"

"Stop, stop!" She remained laying on the bed, arms hugging her stomach. "I can't laugh anymore or I swear I'll pass out."

Lying down next to her, Alex looked at the girl with passionate eyes. "I'm glad me breaking a bone at least made you break a smile."

At that moment, lost in his gaze, Y/N knew she was in too deep and there was no way back.

You know how much I hate

That everybody just expects me to bounce back

Just like that

Now that the two had already crossed the line and they had spent time one on one, the two friends - or so they liked to call themselves, their feelings still hidden from both parties - were inseparable.

Whenever they could they found themselves together: whether it was within four walls late at night just enjoying each other's company, or exploring cities around the world after getting rid of George with a lame excuse.

So, when Y/N received a message from the driver inviting her to dinner, she wasn't surprised or questioned anything.

It was at a restaurant where the two had already been several times in Monaco along with other friends, so the girl just assumed that the same would happen this time around too.

However, hours later, when she questioned George about his plans for that evening - convinced that her question would spark a debate about rides to the restaurant - the words that came out of his mouth quickly made her realize that she had the wrong idea all along.

"I'll probably just stay home and play with the boys. Well, other than Alex, apparently he has a hot date today with some girl he's been all mysterious about."

A d- d- date. Was this supposed to be a date?!

"Oh." She felt her face go white in shock, something that thankfully went unnoticed by her brother as he was glued to his phone. "I- I'll be right back."

The girl ran upstairs to her room and grabbed her cell phone to reread Alex's message.

From: lover boy

what do you think about dinner with your favourite guy tonight at blue bay, 7pm? 👀 

All of a sudden, her palms got sweaty, her heart rate started to increase, and she started to feel apprehensive.

Of course, she had already come to terms with the fact that she had feelings for him but him liking her back?

Surely it was nothing more than a misunderstanding and tonight was nothing more than a dinner between friends.

Uh-oh, I'm fallin' in love

Oh no, I'm fallin' in love again

Oh, I'm fallin' in love

I thought the plane was goin' down

How'd you turn it right around?

The hours passed and she found herself dolled up in a simple long blue dress on her way to where Alex was waiting for her completely alone and more beautiful than ever.

It was a date, there was no question about it.

Alex held out his hand for her to help her out of the taxi and kept it in Y/N's as he looked at her in astonishment. "Jesus, you- You look... Incredible. Fucking incredible really. Shall we go in, little Russ?"

With the simple use of the nickname he always used, Y/N closed herself within her walls as she remembered how wrong she was for going after Alex on her brother's back.

And with that remembrance alone, the date was already ruined before it even started.

For a couple of hours, the two sat at a glamorous table making small, forced talk. Even Alex gave up trying to keep the conversation going when he realized she wasn't feeling it.

The driver felt like the dumbest person on the planet at that moment: not only had he broken his best friend's trust, but he had done it just to have his heart broken in the end.

The silence continued on the ride home, with Alex offering to drive her back like a true gentleman even after the whole dinner fiasco. After a few torturous minutes, he stopped the car and she put her hand on the door handle so fast his heart only shattered more.

"Well, thanks for dinner." She said, her eyes glued to her lap afraid to face him. "I- I'll see you soon, good night."

Alex saw her get out of his Mercedes but unable to accept that this was it, the driver jumped out of the driver's seat towards her. "Wait!"

The girl turned back, coming face to face with the dishevelled image of the boy rushing towards her.

"What went wrong tonight?" Alex asked distraught, letting his hand run through his hair. "I thought I was pretty clear that I cared a lot about you. Hell, I thought you felt the same way. Did I misunderstand things between us that badly all these months we spent together?"

Oh no, I'm falling in love again, she thought to herself and dread filled her from top to bottom like a shiver.

"I'm sorry, Alex," She said, still unable to look at him, especially now that tears were threatening to fall from her eyes. "But I just can't do this right now."

And without even answering, Alex simply walked away.

Uh-oh, I'm fallin' in love

Oh no, I'm fallin' in love again

Oh, I'm fallin' in love

I thought the plane was goin' down

How'd you turn it right around?

After spending months on end talking every day, it all became radio silent.

Y/N couldn't help but blame herself for ending up hurt. He'd put his heart on the line and confronted the undeniable feelings between them, only for her to let fear drive her and ruin everything.

She was the only one responsible for the sudden lump she felt in her throat, for the heaviness of her heart and for the wave of sadness that hit her.

It only got worse when a week later she saw his misery-written face on yet another race weekend, as she got choked with tears, thanks to the painful distance now set between them.

One week turned into two and those feelings of hopelessness and melancholy were still in the air, something that did not escape George's watchful eye.

Taking his place on the sofa next to the girl wrapped in a blanket drinking tea, the elder Russell sat down without much care and let out an exhausted sigh.

"Crikey, what's up with everyone? I swear you've all been in a bad mood lately." He said, without getting a response back. "Did you and Alex plan to get all depressed together or something? Jesus."

The girl gulped at 'her and Alex' and 'together' being in the same sentence, as she tried to keep her concentration on the movie that was on TV.

"He's been all upset since he went on that date I told you about. Apparently, it was a complete failure and now I'll never know who the girl was." George laughed, shaking his head. "I never understood the secrecy. It's not like he went out with you or som-"

Unconsciously, Y/N turned her face towards the large glass window embarrassed but quickly realized that her reaction had given her away.

"Oh, my God," George spoke slowly, trying to accept what he had just realized. "It was you?"

"It doesn't matter now." She finally seemed to get her voice back. "It was a silly decision but it's over anyways."

"What happened?"

"It's over, I told you. I never should have even developed feelings for him." Y/N looked into her brother's eyes, tears forming. "I knew he was your best friend and I still didn't put a stop to things. I'm so so sorry, G."

"Y/N…" The driver leaned against the back of the sofa and brought his hand to his forehead. "Please tell me you didn't break his heart because you thought I would be bothered by you guys going out."

Uh-oh, I'm fallin' in love

Oh no, I'm fallin' in love again

Oh, I'm fallin' in love

I thought the plane was goin' down

How'd you turn it right around?

"Just now you were saying the only reason he should hide a date is if he was going to go out with me!" The girl's voice rose. "Of course, I had to put a stop to it before things went too far!"

"I said it was the only reason he WOULDN'T tell me, not that he SHOULD hide it!" Her brother screamed along with her.

The two sat silently contemplating each other's words until George spoke. "Little sis, I'm sorry to break it to you but I think things have gone too far just by looking at your broken faces these past days."

Oh, he's right, I'm definitely falling in love, she finally accepted.

"Alex is one of the best people I know and I trust him with my life. I couldn't ask for a better person to be by my sister's side if you guys love each other." The man said, his hands resting on each of her shoulders. "Go for it and get him back."

Uh-oh, I'm fallin' in love

Oh no, I'm fallin' in love again

Oh, I'm fallin' in love

Speeding as if her life depended on it, Y/N reached the house of the boy who had her heart and knocked incessantly on his door.

"Calm down, who the f-" Alex opened the door, ready to argue with the person on the other side until he realized it was her. "Y/N."

"Before you send me away, please listen to what I have to say." Y/N pleaded while Alex observed the girl. 

She was in his doorway, still wearing her pyjamas, fluffy pink slippers on her feet, with a beanie and a scarf that she at least remembered to grab on her way out or she wouldn't have survived the cold.

"I was a complete idiot for letting you go that night. What I should have done was run after you, begged for a second chance and told you that I'm falling for you and have been since the day you found me crying in the back of that motorhome."

"I was at my worst and you still managed to put me back together and turn it right around. You are literally the man of my dreams. You have everything I want and need in a partner, and I never should have let this drag on for so long in the first place. So please, give me a chance to show you how happy and great we can be together."

The two seemed frozen at the moment, with their hearts on their sleeves and eyes filled with love and hope for a happy ending, until they heard someone from inside the house clearing their throat.

Turning to face his living room, Y/N now noticed the group of drivers - and unfortunately friends of her brother as well - with sly smiles on their faces. "Oh God, please kill me now."

"It was quite the speech, Russell, but maybe we should go." Lando spoke, grinning at the girl, as he, Charles, Pierre and Carlos left the apartment.

"I will never show my face in the paddock again." She said to Alex, covering her face with her hands.

The Thai affectionately removed her hands, intertwining them with his, and approached her, with a smile the size of the world. "I don't know. I agree with Lando, it was quite the speech indeed."

Without thinking twice, and before he could change his mind, Y/N placed her lips on his in a kiss that both of them had been craving for months.

And the moment their mouths met, they both discovered what it was like to feel that one person was their home.

"What about George?" Alex questioned, pulling away slightly from her.

"He almost pushed me out of the house to come here and make things right." The girl laughed, circling the tall boy's waist with her arms.

"Well, little Russ, looks like I'm going to have to buy Georgie dinner as a 'thank you'." He chuckled, grateful for his best friend. "Or should I say, my future brother-in-law?"

"Calm down, lover boy. I've been here for a few minutes." They laughed together, wrapped up in each other. "We have all the time in the world to think about the future."

Sometimes it only takes one painful heartbreak to help us see we are worth so much more than we're settling for.

I thought the plane was goin' down

How'd you turn it right around?

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[nobigsecrets]

(Not) The Right Time

Inspired by @creativepromptsforwriting Prompt #1085: Maybe this was not the right time. But maybe if he didn't try now there would never be time for it again. Fandom: 9-1-1 Rating: T Summary: Tommy's side of things between cutting short the first date and agreeing to the coffee date. Coda to episode 7x05.

Read on AO3

Tommy's phone started ringing just as their latest call came in. He fumbled it out of his pocket on the way to the pre-flight briefing and then stopped dead in his tracks once he got a look at the display.

Evan (118), it said and Tommy stood in the middle of the hallway, the phone buzzing away in his hand and his thumb hovering over the display indecisively. Unbidden, his mind produced an image of the last time he'd seen Evan, last night to be precise, when Tommy had left him standing at the curb in front of the restaurant. At the time, he'd been convinced that cutting their date short was the safest thing he could do. For both of them. That it was just as much self-preservation as the need to make sure he didn't push Evan into things he wasn't ready for.

But the way Evan's face had fallen in disappointment when Tommy had left had followed him all the way home and through the rest of the night. Looking back at it now, Tommy could admit his decision had been a little rash. Maybe even unfair. He liked the guy—

Before Tommy could make up his mind about accepting or declining the call, it went to voicemail and he felt like catapulted back to the present from his memory. Suddenly he was acutely aware of the bustling of the station all around him, of the engine noise in the distance, of someone walking past him in the hallway, a brief touch to his shoulder, "You coming with, Kinard?"

Tommy sighed and shoved his phone back into his pocket. Maybe it was for the best. Maybe this was not the right time.

He sat through the briefing, absorbing all relevant information on the requested flight, which was basically a standard air ambulance transport. Not an emergency per se, but the transport of an intensive care patient from a hospital in the suburbs to a specialized and better equipped clinic downtown. He checked the given coordinates, plotted the route in his mind, added weather conditions and looked for potential risks, not finding any.

Halfway through the meeting, Tommy felt his phone buzz again inside the pocket of his flight overall, with, what he supposed, was an incoming text message. It could be anyone sending him a text, he tried to reason with himself, but he couldn't quite shut up the part of his mind hoping it was from Evan.

He forced himself to listen to the additional information and medical requirements of the flight, even if they were more relevant to the attending aeromedic than to the pilot. He was nothing if not one hundred percent professional, but he couldn't shake the antsy feeling crawling up his back and the way his phone seemed to burn a hole through his pocket.

That was why he found himself lingering after the briefing, pretending to check the weather charts again when in reality he was waiting until everyone else had cleared the room. When he pulled his phone from his pocket for a second time that evening, he was surprised to find an actual voicemail waiting for him instead of the expected text. Tommy hit call, trying to ignore the rush of anticipation that seemed to hit him out of nowhere—

"Hey Tommy, it's Buck— uh, it's me, Evan," the message said and Tommy had to grin despite himself. He'd meant what he'd said, Evan was adorable and just hearing his voice shook up his resolve pretty hard. "Listen, I assume you have a shift and I don't want to bother you but, uh, I just wanted to talk to you. Call me back? Please? I don't have a shift until Monday night. Okay, uhm. Take care."

By the end of the message, Tommy's grin had transformed into a fond smile. Fuck, but he really liked the guy. He ducked his head and closed his eyes for a moment, phone tipped against his forehead in thought.

It would be a lie if he said Evan's words hadn't hurt. While it had been somewhat cute that Evan had called himself an ally after he admitted it was his first date with a man, the denial of their date a few minutes later and the blatant lie towards Eddie had stung.

Tommy sighed, looked back at the screen with the weather forecast as if it held the answers he was looking for.

He'd told Evan that he didn't think he was ready, but maybe it was more the other way around? That Tommy didn't know if he was ready to deal with the whole process of coming out and coming to terms with who you are again?

Because Tommy understood just too well where Evan had been coming from. He remembered too well how he had felt when he'd been in Evan's place. The feeling of being torn between who he thought he needed to be and who he really was. The lying, the hiding, the guilt, the constant fear. It hadn't been a good place. And it had taken Tommy so many years, so much time and work and effort to build himself a place where he finally felt comfortable—

Maybe this was not the right time.

But then he remembered Evan's bashful smile when he'd admitted "because trying to get your attention has been kind of exhausting", and how sweet his kiss had tasted and how surprised, how pleased he'd looked after. And the point is, Evan had really made an effort, had really wanted to get to know him, and Tommy can't remember the last time someone had gone out of their way for him like that. Sure, Evan hadn't been aware of his own intentions, and sure, Tommy had felt flattered by his attention but it had also felt—special.

And now Evan was reaching out, again, even after Tommy had basically dumped him halfway through their date. And despite all his own insecurities, and Evan's insecurities, wasn't it worth a try? Shouldn't he, after everything he's been through himself, offer Evan the kind of understanding and patience and support that he never got?

There were footsteps in the hall and Tommy snapped back to the present just in time for Martinez sticking her head inside the room, face lighting up at seeing Tommy.

"Hey, Kinard, here you are," Martinez said. "I've been looking for you. You coming?"

Maybe this was not the right time.

But maybe if he didn't try now there would never be time for it again—

"Yeah, sure, I'll be right there," Tommy said, "need to make a quick phone call first."

[aladaylessecondblog]

Red Mountain Waffle House, pt. 14

Author's Note: Angst & misunderstandings

-----------------------------------

Somehow or the other she had been drawn to the Shrine of Azura. Before falling in with that group of former slaves in Zebabi, Sadara had looked into where the shrine was, and figuring Azura would have some answers, headed over that way.

The priests sold her some glow dust, and she made the offering as the sun was going down.

"Azura," she said, "I don't ask for you to do me any favors - I just want answers. With the prophecies, and all that - was I the Nerevarine? I mean clearly I'm not fulfilling them, so did I have ANY purpose here? What was it?"

There was a pause, a slight breeze, and then a voice in her mind.

"You have served the purpose I set out for you."

"What purpose?"

"You ensured Nerevar's bones were brought to Dagoth Ur." A pause. "There have been many Nerevarines, and you were meant to be the last. So many have failed, and you remain...the cycle repeated, in my vain hope one of you would follow the prophecies. But there have been too many failures - and so I have chosen a different path."

"What path?" Sadara felt her stomach drop. You have served your purpose.

"Nerevar will surely follow my will and destroy the Tribunal; he was ever faithful in life, and I see no reason that his loyalty should fail now. I am glad of your assistance, but your part in this is done."

She turned away without saying anything more.

Fuck Azura. Fuck everyone...except maybe Jiub.

Nothing had changed. Nothing would ever change.

----------------------

Traveling about and killing cliffracers was okay for a week or so, but on using her name in Molag Mar, she'd drawn some attention. The healer had looked up, and gone, "Sadara? What're you doing here?"

"Working," she said, "Cliffracer plumes sell for a decent amount."

"You're working? Why?"

"For a living? Why does anyone work?" she shrugged.

"There are some people looking for you--"

The moment her wounds were closed she left, and bought a cloak to cover herself a bit better on the way out. Why would they be looking for her? They had the bones, the moon-and-star, the heirloom ring of Dagoth Ur's. What more could they want her for? Gilvoth had made pretty clear she wasn't wanted there. But then something else occurred to her--the Tribunal temple would probably want to see her gone still, despite her showing no inclination to fulfill the prophecies. She'd handed over Nerevar's bones, they might have linked her to the one who'd stolen the bones in the first place...b&e, theft, some sort of heresy charge, that'd put her away for a while. And that was if the ordinators didn't outright kill her.

Whatever goodwill she'd built with Vivec when she'd done that favor of getting the tattoo was surely burned away now...and Almalexia, she was another thing entirely.

She left Molag Mar, and thereon stopped using her name.

When she cleared the slavers' cave of Zebabi and freed the khajiit and argonians, they had asked her name. She'd thought for a moment, and said, "Nammu."

Finding out about Fyr's offer to pay for blood had come as a result of one of the argonians, Chalureel, who'd said the slavers had dragged him up to Fyr to give his blood. He was some rare type or the other, and seemed overwhelmed with the idea that the sum paid to the slavers would go to him now.

Sadara agreed to stay with them until they all figured out what they'd do with their newfound freedom. The presence of a Dunmer could handwave some things away, avoid some types of trouble...

The morning after she cleared the cave she asked Chalureel to go up to Tel Fyr with her.

"It's a city unto itself," he said, after giving a description of the route they'd need to take, "There's a lot of things there we could get ahold of, especially if your blood's a type they want."

Fyr was a reclusive sort, but those that worked for him obviously needed places to stay, and a tiny medical school of excellent reputation had popped up, and then there were all the services THEY needed--

The point being, there would be plenty of places to hawk what they didn't need of the slavers' things, and to buy what supplies they needed. She'd sold enough bandits' gear after coming to Morrowind to have a reasonably good discerning eye on the most common stuff. Daggers, leather armor, spell scrolls.

"Alright, so do we have enough water here? Not the salt kind," Sadara said, "How many bedrolls do we need to buy? You all deserve to sleep on more than just the ground like you've been doing."

A list was put together of the things they'd need, and while she and Chalureel were going to Tel Fyr, the rest would head to the shore to do some fishing and foraging.

"It rains fairly frequently here," Chalureel said, "So a rain barrel might be a good idea. The water in the cave...is not exactly clean, because of those slaughterfish the--slavers were keeping. We could boil it, but..."

"We can buy some bottled water at Tel Fyr and get a rain barrel, or something like it, and boil the water here if it's absolutely necessary. There's some cooking supplies here, so we've got a pot for it...we've got the list, so let's head out."

The blood donation didn't take all that long. It was mainly filling out the forms and negotiating for things other than money that took extra time.

In exchange for a reduced payment she managed to wrangle out getting a couple potions and to be taught Restore Health with the first donation of her own blood. Fireball she figured would be next - that would make the campfires a bit easier to start up. Then a frost spell, so they could have form up a crude refrigerator somewhere in the cave.

They were kept another hour and give some orange juice, and healed up just to be safe. Then they went shopping.

The rain barrel angle didn't pan out, but they got several jugs and bottles of water, as well as some dried fish, a couple kwama eggs, saltrice, and some shein. A box of rations from a surplus store. It felt like a wealth of food, what was in that box...

But the real treat came when she spent what she'd put aside for herself. It wasn't much, only twenty gold, but she got a new robe, the first bit of clothing she'd bought in ages that wasn't from a secondhand store.

And a green candle. There had been red ones. Smelling them had given a scent of cinnamon and memory of Jolene--Dagoth Ur, her mind corrected her. That look in the picture that had buoyed her for a little while, made her feel adored, what might have been the first stirrings of love, but which now--

Surely you understand it has always been Lord Nerevar that he wants?

The words reminding her that she was to stay in her place, that she was not to reach for anything better.

She put the red candle back and hurried along with Chalureel, whose own treat seemed to be four bags of cheese puffs. The remainder that they weren't saving went to a couple bottles of soda and some off-brand chocolate the others liked.

At last they headed back, and she thought that evening, on looking at what had been the slave pen and was now her room, that all things considered this was better than she'd had in a while, even if there wasn't any plumbing here.

It was a roof over her head, food in her stomach, and a safe place to sleep. That was all it used to take to keep her happy, and it would have to be enough now.

If she just kept believing it, maybe it would be true.

------------------------------------

When Jiub saw the golden-skinned mer approaching the Waffle House a week after the last sleeper, at first he wondered why an Altmer that clean was coming out here.

Then the door opened, and the new waiter dropped to his knees. "Saint Nerevar!"

"Rise," the mer, Nerevar apparently, replied, "I have--to speak to your cook."

"Of course, of course." The waiter moved in close and said, "Be on your best behavior."

"Right." Jiub shrugged, and the waiter headed off to clean the bathroom, or smoke, or something - he didn't really pay attention. Once the man was out of earshot he looked to Nerevar.

"Is Sadara not here? The Sleepers keep saying she doesn't work here any longer."

Jiub scoffed. "And their word wasn't good enough for you?"

"Where is she?"

"She doesn't live with me anymore, if that's what you mean. Do you want coffee? Eggs?"

"Where--where did she go?" Nerevar's voice was more insistent now.

"As if I'm going to tell you."

"Look--" Nerevar's tone went stern, in what Jiub supposed was his military-leader voice. "--you need to tell me where she is."

"Why should I do that?" Jiub turned, and kept one hand in his right front pocket, where he'd moved his box cutter to. "Huh? The volcano man not quite what you expected?"

"There has been a misunderstanding--"

"Misunderstanding!" Jiub laughed harshly. "Oh yes, Sadara didn't even come home afterwards, I'd say it was more than just a fucking--get out. Now."

"Who do you think you are?"

"The man who knows where she is. So I suggest you keep your hands to yourself. I fucked up your wife, I can fuck you up too."

"She's not my wife anymore, I don't--this isn't about her. I want to know where Sadara is, so I can bring her back to Red Mountain."

"What, to be mocked some more? Do you need a punching bag so you don't get bored?"

Nerevar glared in a way Jiub assumed was meant to intimidate him. It didn't work.

"That was never what was intended."

"Really, what was intended? Because whatever was said was bad enough she didn't even repeat it to me, and she tells me everything. Just said it was nothing we hadn't heard before." Jiub crossed his arms. "Why should I tell you fucking anything when you're the reason she's like this?"

"The person she talked to--did not--" Nerevar groaned, and buried his face in his hands before looking back up. "How do I convince you I don't mean her harm? I only want her to take the place that's rightfully hers now. I thought--we hadn't seen her, so we assumed she must not have been interested in being Lady Dagoth. Then one of the Sleepers let us know she DID show up, and we simply hadn't been told about it."

"Yeah, she delivered your bones," Jiub replied, "You'd think you'd be more grateful."

"I didn't KNOW! One of Voryn's brothers turned her away and--look, I just want to correct the situation. I want to make things right. Then you won't see me again."

"It's her seeing you I'm worried about. Why should I trust you, eh? Give me one good reason not to hurl your ass out like Jazz." Jiub thought for a few moments, then cracked his knuckles. "Tell you what...if you kick my ass well enough, I'll tell you where she is."

A pause.

"Are you game for it? Or are you a big golden chicken?"

-------------------------

The kagouti hunt was not going very well.

They had enough to eat, but Sadara had headed out into the blight storm since she was immune to the blight, saying it'd probably be a good idea to get some fresh meat anyway. The slaughterfish in Zebabi's water (Gish, oddly enough, seemed to think of them as children) were happy enough with scraps, but...leftovers surely weren't healthy for them

In reality she preferred not to while away her time in Zebabi. Even with the others around it was too quiet, and if things were too quiet she'd start thinking.

And if she started thinking, she'd just end up making herself miserable. No. Better to get outside and actually DO something, until she was tired enough she'd go right to sleep when she got back.

But the blight winds were thicker than usual--or at least, thicker than she was used to--and she found herself stumbling along the paths, groping along the rocky mountainside to keep a sense of which direction she was going in. She was almost afraid to pull out her phone. Suppose it blew away, in all this wind?

Sadara took another step, leaned harder when a gust of red ashy wind blew right in her face--and fell into darkness.

"FUCK!" she screamed, and thanked any gods who might be listening that she'd had the Fyr people teach her the Light spell last time she was up there.

It looked like she'd fallen into some kind of hallway...a long corridor, there were visible doors along it. She'd think it was a dwemer ruin if it wasn't for the tombish look about it, and the lack of brass accents.

She set her quiver down to mark the spot, and then headed down the hallway. The doors opened, and she saw ash pits, with offerings covered in dust. Clearly, no one had been here in ages and ages.

A ghost or two rose...but gave her only a look before meandering about the room.

Probably a really old Hlaalu tomb.

She'd been to one or two tombs and left small offerings, but had never actually seen the ghosts wandering around like people had reported. Here, though...they seemed to be everywhere here. Some of the older looking ones ignored her, while a young one or two followed her for a while. Most vanished when she looked at them directly.

Then she came to a larger room--and the ash pit here was much, much larger than any of the others she'd seen.

As with some of the others, a ghost rose from the ashes.

This one, rather than looking at her and then quickly away, fixed her with a keen gaze that didn't once break away.

"Who are you?"

"My name's Sadara," she said, "I'm sorry, I fell into the tomb from the outside. I don't mean any disrespect. ...though I assume you must all know that already, since no one's attacked me."

"You must have married into the house," the ghostly woman said. "There is no other explanation."

"This isn't a house Hlaalu tomb?"

A snort.

"Oblivion, no. This is a House Dagoth tomb."

Sadara immediately started to back out of the room. "Well, I guess...I guess I'm technically one of you, but the marriage...isn't going to last."

"Isn't going to last? When the one you married has been rude enough not to bring you here to introduce you to the family..."

"It wasn't the one I married, but one of his--brothers that told me." Sadara shrugged. "I married him drunk, his brother said it was a mistake, and with Nerevar there again--look, I'll get out of your hair."

"No, no, stay. Stay, tell me what happened. The man you married, was it one of Voryn's brothers?"

"It was Voryn himself, and one of his brothers to--why am I telling you? It's probably getting annulled soon, I won't be part of the House for much longer."

"You shouldn't let yourself be shoved out so easily. Any Lady Dagoth should be strong enough to form herself a place. Voryn's brothers have ever been overprotective of the family honor and nobility--they tried to push off Nerevar, and now they are trying to push off you. With the same tricks, I imagine. But just like Nerevar, you--"

Sadara turned and bolted out the door, back down the hallway, ignoring every attempt by the ghosts she passed to call her back.

Just like Nerevar.

Just like Nerevar.

All she wanted was to escape that name, to escape his shadow, but every attempt seemed to deepen the trap she was in.

How long do I have to live in his shadow?

-----------------------------

The blight storm hadn't let up in the least by the time she returned to the cave--and with her arm raised to protect her eyes she didn't nothing the ordinator standing just inside the cave. He stood straight and pointed his spear at her when she approached.

"Who are you?"

"S--Nammu, I live here!" Sadara corrected herself, "Don't tell me it's been seized!"

"Not seized. ...temporarily commandeered," the ordinator said, "Go inside...but there are more of us in there, and if you step out of line you'll be dealt with."

Great, she thought, just great. As if I needed more problems right now.

She went on inside, noting there weren't that many extra ordinators inside, or rather, not as many as she expected. Nuralg was the first to see her, and shook her head on being told the hunt hadn't gone well.

"This one could have told you it was a bad idea to hunt in blight winds. The only thing one can catch out there right now is a blight disease. Dinner will be ready in a bit...but there is someone occupying your room. You'll have to have a chat with her."

The her in question was entirely a surprise. No sooner did she open the little door (which was flanked by two more ordinators) than she laid eyes on--

"Queen Barenziah?"

"Sadara!"

Both were equally surprised to see one another. Sadara walked forward, trying to think of how to not explain the situation to her.

"What are you doing out here?" was the queen's first question.

"The job didn't pan out. What're you--this doesn't seem the kind of place you'd frequent." Sadara gave a faint smile.

"I was making a trip to Tel Fyr for an injection...I've got something called rheumatoid arthritis, and I would far rather have the doctors do it than trust the job to a maid or to my shaking hands. The blight storm grew stronger while we were trying to sail by, and...well, we took shelter here, not knowing anyone had already made it a home."

"It's not too bad here, provided you fluff your pillow up well enough. And have a good bedroll. Maybe it's a bit too quiet, that's my only complaint."

"Besides not having running water?" Barenziah laughed slightly. "It reminds me of the old days, but...I prefer not to go back unless necessary."

There was a pause, and for that silence Sadara thought that no more would be said.

But of course, she would later think, she could not be so lucky.

"Hunting cliffracers?" she asked, "I expected you could find another job waiting tables up in the north, with your experience."

"I wanted to get away from the region," Sadara replied quietly. She shrugged a moment later. "Lot of drama went on...Almalexia turned up, and there was...a time I got very drunk, and...it's all behind me now."

Barenziah fixed her with a Look.

"What?" she asked, "I think I actually prefer living here over that shithole I was living in. It's by the ocean, it rains more often, and..."

No response.

"I do pay attention to the online discourses, you know," the queen mother started again, "And I can put two and two together."

"I don't want to talk about it," Sadara replied quickly. "Please, let's just talk about something else."

Literally anything else. She simply wanted to keep her mind off the Situation. Eventually that ache would peter out and everything would be as it was before. Everything went down the drain anyway, eventually this would too.

"Answer a few questions, and then I will speak no more of it. I already know about this infamous marriage of yours, and I simply want to know--"

"Do I have a choice?" Sadara slumped slightly.

A few questions and then this'd be over. Barenziah would leave, and she'd get on making the best of this place.

"Did you get thrown out?"

"Not out of my apartment, no, I just didn't go back. There wasn't much to go back for."

"And Dagoth Ur?"

"I haven't seen him since the night the wedding happened. When I visited the--that palace he lives in, all I saw was his brother. If I hadn't left he'd have put me out."

"You poor thing," Barenziah's tone was sympathetic, "This is what I was trying to warn you about. These men will use you and cast you aside the moment you are no longer useful to them."

"I...I brought him Nerevar's bones. Thought we'd have to talk anyway. But...I guess he didn't want to talk..."

You have served the purpose I set out for you.

She gulped slightly. "Anyway...I suppose you'll be staying overnight. We can feed the lot of you, but it'll be a bit tight...not what you're used to, I'm sure."

"We've got some stores of our own to add, if you're inclined to make a stew. Or if you're not, I like my entourage to be well prepared." There was a pause. "I apologize for pressing, but...if you'd like the marriage annulled, I'm sure--"

"No, let him live with the stain." The venom in her tone surprised even Sadara, and she shook her head. "The only revenge I can have right now is that my name is still linked with House Dagoth. He has Nerevar now, and he'll want to marry him soon, which'll mean he'll want my signature on the divorce papers."

She'd seen how easy it could be to get a divorce in Morrowind. Thirty days apart--and they were fast closing in on that number--no matter how short a time it had been since the wedding--with papers signed, and that would be that.

It could be as if it had never been.

"Maybe I can get a bribe out of it. They want to call me a gold-digger, maybe I should just quit trying, and...and give them what they're--"

She took in a sharp breath.

Barenziah's open arms was all it took.

Sadara sank into them, sobbing, and wasn't aware of very much else for a long while afterward.

Just this time. I will let myself be sad just this time. But no one else will get to see it. No one else.