#a trend that faded away i guess

[beautiful-basque-country]

What happened to escape rooms?

They're all closed down now!

[misshoneyimhome]

Say My Name, Say My Name I Quinn Hughes 🖋️🌺

Requested? Yes / No

Summary; Based on the Tik Tok trend, calling your boyfriend “husband”

Tropes & warnings; established relationship; Tik Tok trend; fluff, marriage proposal; no warnings;

Other notes: For the second story of this TikTok trend, I've challenged myself with writing for Quinn Hughes for the first time 😊 To be honest, I didn't know much about him to fully capture his character, however, this is pretty much how sweet I imagine this boy to be 🤭🤍 Since I had a few different ideas of how to approach the request, this turned out to be nothing but pure fluff 🌺🥂

I hope you enjoy it 🌷🐰

Word count; 1.6K

・✶ ｡ﾟ

As the sun dipped low, casting a gentle glow over the bustling streets of Vancouver, you strolled alongside your boyfriend, Quinn Hughes. The city buzzed with its usual activity, providing a comforting backdrop to your conversation on this typical Thursday evening. And with the promise of a hockey-free weekend on the horizon, a mischievous idea had crept into your mind – sparked by a popular TikTok challenge that had been gaining traction online.

In recent weeks, you'd seen numerous videos of people teasingly calling their boyfriends "husbands," while recording their partners' bewildered reactions for entertainment. And intrigued by the trend, you couldn't resist the urge to try it out with Quinn.

After nearly three years of shared laughter and cherished moments in your relationship, you were confident that Quinn would find the prank amusing, perhaps even earning a reaction with a hint of panic. So, with a playful glint in your eye, you had naturally shared your plan with your closest friend, enlisting her help in pulling off the light-hearted prank.

As you’d proposed the idea, your friend, always up for TikTok trends, had eagerly agreed to assist. You’d decided on arranging a double date, which wouldn’t be out of the ordinary, planning for you to execute the prank while she would discreetly film Quinn's reaction.

So, as you sat in a cosy, almost half-empty restaurant later that Thursday evening, the weight of your impending prank began to settle in. Excitement and nerves mingled in your chest, your fingers tapping restlessly on the tabletop as you waited for the perfect moment to put your plan into action.

And finally, the moment arrived, hanging in the air with a mix of anticipation and uncertainty. As the waiter approached to take your orders, a surge of anxious energy coursed through you, your heart racing. Yet, with practiced ease, you smoothly transitioned into the pivotal moment. "And for my husband," you said, injecting a playful tone into your voice, "he'll have a glass of ice water and the pasta Bolognese."

The words hung in the air, a silent challenge to fate, while your best friend discreetly positioned her phone, ready to capture Quinn's genuine reaction.

Time seemed to stand still for a moment as Quinn's gaze shifted towards you, his expression a fleeting mix of surprise and curiosity. "Your what?" he murmured, his voice barely audible, yet you persisted, ignoring the amusement threatening your facade of confidence.

In that suspended moment, Quinn's initial reaction was genuine astonishment, his eyes widening in disbelief before a soft chuckle broke the tension like a gentle wave against the shore. 

And as the waiter then walked away following taking all orders, he left behind echoes of laughter. Quinn then leaned closer towards you; his tone laced with mock seriousness. "Husband, huh?" he mused, a playful smirk on his lips. "Guess I'll need to update my resume."

It hadn’t entirely been the shocked reaction you’d hoped for, yet you still found the situation undeniably amusing. Confessing the inspiration behind your jest, laughter filled the air. And as the night wore on, your little act slowly faded in the background.

However, unbeknownst to you, the innocent prank had sparked an idea in Quinn's mind.

Although he hadn’t exactly expected to consider such a significant step already at the age of 24, the notion lingered, intriguing and compelling. As the eldest among his brothers and in his most serious relationship yet, Quinn had pondered the concept for some time. He’d even briefly sought advice from his closest teammates on how to broach the subject, as he’d realised life was too short to wait for the perfect moment.

So, as he sat beside you, enveloped in shared laughter, he felt a newfound determination. With quiet resolve and a heart full of affection, he began laying the groundwork for a significant occasion, one that would hopefully change your relationship for the better.

A little over a week later, with the memory of your playful prank still fresh in his mind, Quinn found himself beyond excited and content about the idea. With determination coursing through him and a ring burning a silent promise in his pocket, he’d devised a plan.

His aim was to catch you off guard, to make the moment as unexpected as possible. And having noticed how you had emphasised the prank was nothing but a joke, he guessed your mind hadn’t dwelled on such matters. Which made it the perfect opportunity.

So, returning to the very same restaurant Saturday evening where the idea had originated, Quinn carefully arranged the setting for the action. Despite the absence of a best friend discreetly recording the scene, the familiar ambiance of the restaurant's softly lit interior and the intimate corner table added a serene touch to the occasion. So with a steady hand and a heart brimming with love, Quinn recreated the scene.

As the waiter approached to take your orders, he took a deep breath, and with a voice filled with emotion, he echoed your words from days prior, "And for my wife, she'll have a glass of Champagne along with some water and the cheese, spinach ravioli, please."

Your eyes widened a little in slight disbelief as the words lingered in the air, blending with the gentle buzz of conversation around you, and a chuckle escaped your lips of amusement at Quinn's unexpected play. You simply couldn’t help but laugh at the joke and how he replicated your playful tease from the other night with such precision.

“Wife, huh?” You chuckled lightly. “Guess I deserved that one - though I do enjoy the sound of it.”

However, this time, it wasn't a prank. As the waiter departed, leaving behind a soft smile, your eyes met with Quinn’s, flashing him an entertained smile. Yet there was a seriousness in your boyfriend’s expression, a rare sight outside of the intensity of a hockey match, and a curious furrow creased your brow as you couldn’t decipher his thoughts. But before you could ask him what was on his mind, Quinn gently rose from his seat, moving with deliberate grace to stand next to you.

“I’m glad you say that ‘cause…”

You shifted in your seat to face him, the air crackled with anticipation as he then slowly dropped to one knee, the world around you fading into insignificance, leaving only the man you loved, poised before you with a vulnerability that stole your breath away.

Your heart pounded in your chest as Quinn gently took out the little velvet box from his pocket, his brown eyes shining with an intensity that mirrored his deep emotions. 

“Y/n," he softly began. "I know you said it as a joke the other night, but... truth be told, it stuck with me. And I realised that… I do want to be your called husband. You mean everything to me. Without you, I'd be lost – even though I don't tell you enough, you make my every day brighter. I can't even begin to thank you enough for your endless support, for putting up with me and my career every single day. You never ask for anything, and yet you give so much love. I love you so so much, and I just can't imagine a future without you in it..."

With every heartfelt confession, your breath hitched in your throat, your mind swirling with the weight of his sentiments. Emotions surged within you, threatening to overflow as Quinn exposed his soul, sharing his fears and dreams for your future together.

And then came the question, hanging in the air like a fragile promise—a question that held the power to shape your lives forever.

"Y/n, will you marry me?"

It felt surreal, like a dream woven from the threads of your deepest desires and fondest hopes. Quinn on his knee before you, his vulnerability a testament to the depth of his love. And in that moment, tears glistening in your eyes, and a smile tugging at the corners of your lips, there was only one right answer.

Though struggling to find the words, you willed your lips to move and your throat to vocalise the response.

"Yes... Quinn, of course," you replied with excitement, the sound of soft applauses rippling through the restaurant. And with a deep relieved sigh, and a satisfied smile illuminating his face, Quinn rose from his kneeling position, meeting you in a deep, heartfelt kiss. 

Sealing the engagement your lips met with nothing but devotion, the world around you slowly dissolving, before breaking apart. Quinn's excitement was nothing short of palpable, his smile radiant as he carefully slipped the ring onto your finger, and he couldn’t deny that this felt better than any hockey match win. Perhaps besides winning the Stanley Cup. 

It was truly a beautiful ring. The diamond's shimmer mirrored the twinkle in his eyes as you admired the ring's delicate intricacies. And with a content smile, you shared another quick kiss before Quinn returned to his seat, and the waiter poured champagne to mark the occasion.

Raising your glasses in a toast, you again sealed the engagement with a clink, the bubbles dancing against your lips like promises of a future filled with love and joy. This moment was everything you had ever dreamed of. Though it had begun with a playful joke, it perfectly captured the essence of your relationship—full of laughter, love, and shared moments of joy.

And with your hands gently intertwined on the table, both admiring the new addition to your finger, you couldn't help but chuckle. "Looks like I really do need to update my resume," you playfully remarked, echoing Quinn's words from the other night.

And in response, your fiancé merely chuckled, his eyes brimming with adoration as he kissed your hand and held your gaze with unwavering affection. "Yes, I suppose you’ll have to," he smiled, his voice filled with promise and a love that knew no bounds.

[bluelockmaniac]

calling your friend a pet name in front of your boyfriend MIKAGE REO

cw: possessive reo, fem!reader, guy friend wc: 651 itoshi rin version

you were strolling enthusiastically through the crowded mall with your boyfriend, your eyes darting excitedly from one window display to another in hopes of finding the perfect present for your best friend’s upcoming birthday. you really appreciated reo’s offer to tag along because it was no secret to you, or to anyone else for that matter, that the mikage corporation heir is one heck of a stylish man.

as you continue impatiently scanning the endless storefronts with all the dazzling fashion trends on display, your frustration begins to gnaw at you. despite looking around nearly every corner of the mall, the dress that your friend had wanted for a long time was nowhere to be seen. sensing your annoyance, reo softly chuckles, his hand finding its way to your waist as he calmly guides you to a very elegant-looking store, “y/n, is that the soft pink coquette dress you were lookin—”

“—oh my god, this is it, reo!” you blurt out, your eyes sparkling with excitement as you grab his wrist and drag him away from the window display and into the store, “you found it, thank you!” you kiss his cheek, a bright grin spreading across your face as you hurry down to the appropriate aisle. your embarrassed boyfriend awkwardly follows behind as he rubs the back of his neck, “anything for my princess.” he softly murmurs.

while your boyfriend was distracted with the gold jewelry on the wall, your hands browsed through the colourful assortment of dresses on the rack, searching for the one you had seen outside. finally spotting the only pink dress, your hand reached out to grab it only to unexpectedly brush your fingers against someone else’s hand—someone who wanted the same dress.

“oh, sugar,” you laugh, patting your guy friend with a cheeky grin, “you came here to buy your girlfriend the dress she loves?” your friend rolls his eyes playfully, gently pushing your hand away, “heh. i wanted to. but now—”

“sugar? who’s sugar? who’s he?” your boyfriend strides over to you quickly, his arm encircling your waist protectively as he shoots a belittling glare at the man. upon hearing your pet-name, he reasonably assumed you were beckoning him over, however his gentle smile quickly faded into an irritated scowl as he saw the strange man talking to you with such familiarity.

you glance up at reo with a soft giggle, intertwining your fingers with his, “he’s f/n’s boyfriend and my close friend. i guess we both thought of buying her this dress,” you explained, lifting the garment by its hanger.

“wow, you never mentioned me to your boyfriend?” he jokes, his finger about to playfully poke your shoulder, before he hesitates, sensing the billionaire’s jealousy, “i’m hurt, y/n,” he adds with a pout. he looks at your boyfriend and extends his hand for a handshake, “nice to meet you, reo—”

“it’s mikage for you,” your boyfriend hisses, the tone of his voice had an unmistakable hint of annoyance that he put no effort to mask. he hands you his card and pats your back in the direction of the checkout area, “here, sweetheart. go buy the dress,”

“thanks,” you give one last apologetic glance at your friend before scurrying away to the cashier.

“man, i really wanted to buy f/n that dress,” the guy muttered awkwardly, a failed attempt at a joke. he was trying to ease the tense atmosphere, but reo was not helping at all.

reo simply scoffs, turning around as he crosses his arms together, “my girlfriend found the dress first, so you better hurry and find something else while you still have the time, fool.” he adds with a disgusted expression before walking away, leaving your poor friend bewildered.

“oh, sweetheart, you’re back!” you smile and hold his hand, “what were you tal—”

“sugar,” he sulked.

your brows furrowed in confusion, “what?”

“call me sugar.”

comments appreciated, thank you!!

if you're interested in a royal/fantasy au; wizard ness x princess y/n (no kaiser) click here!

[mclarenviolet]

Cherry Wine

Astarion x GN!Reader

Warnings: Brief mention of blood/hunting, shameless flirting and a smidge of fluff

WC: 500+

A/N: Continuing the trend of naming my Astarion fics after Hozier songs because the combination is ✨chef's kiss✨ As always I try to keep reader gender neutral but as I haven't proofread this one particularly well please let me know if there's any slip ups!

You enter the firelit camp after your evening bathe in the nearby river, glad to have washed away the intense grime of the bog you'd been traversing for the last few days. You cast your gaze over to where Astarion lounges against a log, wine bottle in hand, his crimson eyes already fixed on you with a mischievous glint.

"Well, well, well," he purrs, a smug smile tugging at his lips. "If it isn't my favorite person in this whole wretched world."

You roll your eyes, failing in your attempt to hide your smile from the handsome vampire. "Spare me your flattery, Astarion. I might just faint from the shock."

He chuckles, his fingers idly tracing patterns in the dirt. "Oh darling, your heart can surely handle a few well-placed compliments from time to time."

You settle down beside him, your shoulder brushing against his. "And what makes you so certain that I'm not immune to your charms?"

Astarion leans in closer, his lips just a breath away from your ear. "Because, my dear, I've seen the way your cheeks flush whenever I grace you with my presence."

You fight back a laugh, shaking your head. "You're impossible, you know that?"

He grins, his gaze smoldering as it meets yours. "Ah, but you love every bit of it."

You feign exasperation, throwing up your hands in mock defeat. "Fine, you win. I'm utterly captivated by your snark. Happy now?"

Astarion's laughter is low and melodic, "Delighted, actually."

As the night wears on, the camp grows quiet, your companions settling down in their tents, undoubtedly exhausted from what felt like endless days of battling amidst that miserable bog. Astarion however stays firmly planted by your side, silver hair seemingly glowing in the moonlight as he stares up towards the stars.

"You know," his tone soft, "despite my 'snark' as you so eloquently put it, I really do quite enjoy our time together."

Your heart skips a beat as his playful façade gives way to a vulnerability that takes you by surprise. "I know." your voice equally gentle.

He leans slowly towards you, gaze meeting yours once more, his lips hovering just inches from yours. "And if I were to do something that's shockingly out of character, would you be too surprised to stop me?"

Your breath hitches as his fingers brush against your jaw. "I guess we'll just have to find out."

And with that, his lips capture yours in a passionate kiss fueled by weeks of teasing and flirtatious banter, of stolen glances and lingering touches.

Astarion's arms wrap around you, pulling you closer as the kiss deepens, his fingers tangling in your hair. You can taste the coppery tang of whichever creature he hunted earlier mingled with the cherry wine he's been leisurely sipping on all evening, a mixture you find unexpectedly intoxicating.

When the kiss finally breaks, you both pull away, breathless and dazed. Astarion's confident smirk fades into a genuine smile, his inquisitive eyes searching yours.

"Surprised?" he asks, his voice a low whisper.

You grin, all too aware that Astarion's keen hearing must be picking up the way your heart pounds in your chest. "Very."

He leans in to press another kiss to your lips, his fingers tracing absent patterns on your back. "Well, my dear, prepare to be surprised more often."

A/N: Welcome to another episode of Violet doesn't know how to end her fics 😌 Thank you for reading, feedback is appreciated as always 💕

[romanoffsbish]

Never Mine (Always Yours)

Wanda Maximoff x Fem!R

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!R

Warnings: Selfish/Mean Wanda, Gaslighting, Possessive/Jealous W, Unhealthy Dom/Sub dynamics (Mommy/Baby), Ghosting. R’s a bit of a pushover.

Smut: Top!W(“Touch me not”), Mommy (W), Detka/Baby (R), Oral/Fingering(R), Thigh Riding(W), Overstimulation(KO), Squirting.

A/N: This is a Wanda / Reader heavy story, but Natasha is indeed intermixed, and the end is hopeful, unlike reality. 😂

18+ | Minors DNI !!

"What's cookin' good lookin'?," you threw the flirty banter at the Sokovian with ease while approaching her from behind to take a peek., "Ooh, hot cakes, I see an obvious trend here."

The crush you had on the woman was obvious, she was easy on the eyes—sure, but she was also like the kindest person you'd ever met. There was never anything you were attempting to pull with your words, and normally she'd just chuckle, but today she audibly groaned.

"Y/N.," you flinched at her tone, she saw that and internally cringed over frightening you., "I'm sorry, that was harsh, but I just.," she took a second to think, your soft expression full of understanding not helping her at all with turning you down., "Do you think you could lay off on the flirting? It's just, after Vision I'm not sure I'm ready for a relationship. I adore you, don't get me wrong—but I'd prefer friendship."

"Of course Wands, strictly platonic from here on out.," you stuck your hand out for a shake while wearing the kindest smile she'd honestly ever seen., "Y/N, I said friendship, not make a business deal with me.," she playfully slapped your hand away then pulled your giggling form into her body for a much needed hug.

——

Wanda found comfort in you, she could never place the trajectory of where it should go, but she was adamant it wasn't romantic. So, the two of you stood there in an embrace for a few moments in silence before you finally broke it., "Seriously though Wan, what are you making? It smells really delicious, and we both know I'm absolutely hopeless in the kitchen!"

The woman pulled back slightly, staring down at you with a teasing smirk., "Let's be honest here Y/N/N, it's in more than just the kitchen."

When you shoved her away her head flew back as she laughed boisterously., "You're mean.," she pointed her spatula at you as she gasped., "Fine, if I'm so mean then I guess the hot cakes, various pastries and the accompanying sausage and eggs I've cooked are all mine."

"You wouldn't dare deprive me!," you gasped and the woman turned to you with a smirk, but it faded just as fast when she noticed others filing into the kitchen, or more specifically Natasha Romanoff, her thoughts about you were nothing short of sinful, and she wasn't entirely sure why it bothered her, but it did.

"Good morning ladies.," the raspy voice from behind you caused a smile to form on your face, and that made Wanda clench her jaw., "Natty!!," you squealed, and that happiness you exuded slightly settled the witch's temper.

Wanda turned back to the stove, unwilling to watch the two of you sharing in your embrace. Natasha was her friend, as were you, this was her own jealousy to temper, but when she saw the hopeful smile the redhead gave you as she held you close, and whispered words to make you laugh she couldn't contain the rumbling.

Then the redhead made it ten times worse., "Hey, I'm going to the cafe up the street to get Yelena some breakfast, wanna come with?"

Dishes clattering popped your soft bubble with the former assassin, you quickly turned to see if Wanda was okay and found her glaring at the woman who still held onto you from behind., "Nice offer Natasha, but Y/N's already secured herself a plate of breakfast from yours truly."

The situation you were in was alarming to say the least as Natasha's grip on your hip became harsh as you felt her body tense., "Y/N is more than capable of speaking for herself Wanda."

That you were.. but for a moment you weren't.

You gulped when you saw red flash through Wanda's eyes, and to be honest you were unsure where this animosity stemmed from. The past few months were like this, and you never understood why they couldn't stand to share you, but you'd grown to live with it., "Hey, you two—it's okay.," though you spoke it aloud you weren't exactly sure it was., "I'll be staying here for breakfast Natty, but I'd love to meet up with you for lunch at Carmine's if possible, and you can help me pick out a dress for Stark's annual charity gala next month."

"Sounds perfect sweetheart.," she pecked your cheek, then tapped your nose before parting, but not without sending Wanda another glare. When you looked to the witch again she was scowling, she seemed conflicted., "Everything okay over there wiggly woo?," she rolled her eyes, but her scowl also melted into a smile.

"I'm fine honey, now eat up before it gets cold."

——

Wanda was incredibly tense as she stood by the bar nursing her glass of whiskey, her eyes had been locked on you for the last hour, and her body was seething with unforeseen jealousy. Natasha had impeccable taste, the dress she chose for you offered the greatest of views, and her interest in you was only the other half of it.

Every time you laughed at another's joke she clenched her jaw—it couldn't be that funny.

When someone so much as stared at you in passing she felt the tips of her fingers tingling with tendrils of red. But it was when Nat had pulled you to the dance floor that she finally snapped, her glass left behind as she made her way to the dance floor to—well, she wasn't sure what, but she knew she had to do something.

Natasha spun your giggling form around, her heart swelling the more your joy was flowing out of you, but in her movement she also saw the angry Sokovian stomping her way over. There was a clear sense of danger that really tampered her enjoyment of your giddiness. Protecting you felt crucial, so she spun you into her, your back flush to her front, and it was then that your laughter ceased, your heart stuttering in your chest at the sight of Wanda.

"Y/N, I have been looking all over for you.," the way Nat gripped your hips made you aware of the potential of a standoff, and it was only more likely as you picked up on Wanda's accent slipping through her slurred words. Seeing as how this was a party meant to invoke charitable donations you knew it was best to give the angrier of the two your attention.

"Well I've been mingling all night.," you murmured over an obviously nervous chuckle., "Natty and I here had just decided to finally take a break from the hustle and bustle of milking the rich of their abundance of wealth."

Wanda didn't appear amused at all by your lazy explanation, you weren't really sure why you owed her one, but you spun around to give Natasha an apologetic smile anyways. The redhead dropped her hold on you, then she placed a soft kiss to your forehead., "Thanks for keeping me company tonight, I'll see you later."

It kinda broke your heart to see her look so sad, but she smiled at you so warmly that it settled. Wanda on the other hand was scowling so hard as you turned back around that you felt fearful.

"Wands.," she simply grabbed you by your forearm and brought you to the first place with a door that locked., "Did you enjoy that slut?," she slammed you so hard into the wall that you actually had the wind knocked out of you.

"You're just out there flaunting your body for anyone to see.," her fingers dug into your chin., "Listen carefully, you're fucking mine Y/N, no one else gets to see you like this, let alone have their slimy hands all over you, do you got it?"

The mental gymnastics you were facing was extraordinary, you didn't quite compute her sentiment here since they contradicted her very own words last month—she wanted friendship. Now she apparently wants you all to herself.

Though your mind was racing in confusion, your body was not confused at all, it knew exactly what it wanted so you nodded dumbly as you felt a wetness pooling in your panties.

"That's a good girl.," she purred, then in an instant her lips were pushed against yours., "Gonna be mommy's perfect baby, yeah?"

"Mhm," you melted so quickly at her affections that the unfair anger she'd tried to hold onto was fading fast., "Mommy's going to fuck you so well that you never look for another person."

Wanda refused to carry out her sinful actions in the broom closet though, you were worth more than that to her, so she gently pulled you towards the elevator, and brought you to her room. With far less aggressive hands she was quick to remove the both of your clothing, and triple checked that this was what you wanted.

With your lips pressing to her unprompted she knew there was no doubt you wanted this. Carefully she’d laid you down, her lips never leaving yours, wet tongue slipping passed yours as soon as you parted your tingling lips for some much needed air. Lithe hands explored your body, squeezing your breasts to find you were a reactive little one at such a sensation.

“Mommy.,” you whimpered, her lips now biting into the supple flesh of your breasts, leaving her claim behind, and inspiring your hips to hump up into her desperately., “Patience.”

One word was all she gave you, it was torment, but you aimed to please so you stifled your whines, and tempered your hips so Wanda could freely do as she pleased with your body.

“What a beautiful listener.,” she purred, her lips now traveling straight down until she’s hovering above your core, and loudly inhaling your natural aroma in. It shouldn’t have, but it shocked the witch to see just how turned on she already made you., “Goodness detka, your thighs are shining, and my sheets are soaked.”

“ ‘M sorry…,” you whimpered, and the witch was quick to shush you., “Never apologize for the uncontrollable sweetheart, I just wasn’t expecting you to be this wet was all.,” gripping your thighs harshly she parted them further., “

Wanda was slow as she took her time savoring the hint of your essence that coated your thighs, she cycled between softly sucking and harshly biting into the smooth expanse of skin, and truly reveled in just how much you were squirming about desperately for more of her. Feeling needed had her heart and ego swelling.

“Think you can handle mommy’s fingers?,” you nodded, then when you felt a slap to the side of your ass you whined., “Yes mommy, I can take ‘em, please give them to me, fuck me hard.”

Wanda’s tongue slid up your slit, a grateful hum leaving her as she tasted you wholly, before swirling around your clit with titillated precision, all in an effort to ease the burning brought upon by two of her boney fingers entering you in tandem with her ministrations.

In less than a minutes time Wanda had made you a mewling mess, pride filling her chest with just how quickly she’d worked you up. Every thrust came with the prominent feeling of her knuckles slowly dragging over your walls, stealing the breath from your lungs as you were overwhelmed by the pleasure until it came crashing down on you in glorious waves.

Watching as you came undone sent Wanda into a frenzied headspace, she was stuck on the way your mouth opened without much more than a squeak as your upper body arched and your thighs trembled viciously, then tried to trap her hand in between as the pleasure became pain.

Wanda wasn’t much for reciprocation, she was content getting off on your thigh at the sight of you coming undone below her. Her precious baby climaxing unendingly as she pushed you to your very outermost limits tonight. She honestly lost track of how many times you came, you were truly her newest addiction.

All that you had to offer was greedily taken.

Whether it was screaming as she’d flipped you onto your stomach and fucked her fingers into you even deeper than before, causing you to see constellations where white walls used to be, or when she immediately followed that orgasm up by laying beneath you, giving you no time to recover as she was soon pulling your cunt flush against her tongue and letting you ride her mindlessly like a greedy bitch in heat until your tangy juices were dripping down her throat.

It only stopped as she realized you’d slumped into the mattress, your arousal spewed across her abdomen, and your body shook with the tremors of aftershock as you quietly snored.

“Mommy’s precious baby.,” she cooed, her slicked fingers traced the shape of your face as she admired you in all your glory. She placed a final kiss to your lips that you unconsciously met causing her to giggle lightly before she got up from the bed and gently cleaned you up.

“Sleep tight baby.,” her arms wrapped around you in emphasis, and she slipped with you.

—

The following morning came with your groans, you tried to get out of the empty bed to use the restroom, but your legs were dead, and so you went tumbling., “Fuck.,” but you never hit the ground, instead you were enveloped in warmth as tendrils of red lifted you back onto the bed.

“Baby, where were you going exactly, hm?”

You rolled your eyes at the tease in her tone., “Well, the restroom was the initial plan, but your floor just looked so comfortable.”

“Yeah, that fluffy rug does draw people in.”

“People?,” you frowned, of course last night was just a silly one time fluke, alcohol tends to trick people into being reckless, and here you were playing games with your own heart.

“Honey, your thoughts are so loud.,” she set the tray of freshly made breakfast down, then she straddled your lap and comfortably wrapped her arms around your neck., “I’m all in baby.”

“What changed?,” you pouted., “Last month you didn’t want this, and that’s okay Wands.”

“What happened was I was scared Y/N, but then I saw you slipping away and that scared me more.,” she smiled warmly, making your heart melt instantaneously., “I like you for you. All of you, and I find I like you more and more with each day that goes by.”

“I’m fragile Wanda, I don’t trust easy, I am hard to love, but I’m trusting you here with my bruised heart because I feel safe with you, the safest I ever felt, and I know you would never lie to me or break me on purpose.”

“Break you?.,” she smirked, then winked as she wiggled herself over your numb legs., “Maybe”

“Your heart?,” her eyes softened., “I’ll do my damndest not to.,” she cupped your cheeks and sighed softly., “I accept all of you, including the trauma and the heartache and whatever bags you come with, you’re worth the effort baby.”

“Girlfriends?,” you pouted adorably making the witch swoon., “Yes please?,” you pecked her lips sweetly., “It’s a done deal then angel.”

——

For nearly two months everything was perfect; Wanda doted on you like you were her most prized possession, because you truly were.

You'd always joked about being hopeless, but being with you intimately made her well aware of the honesty in your lighthearted quips. It got to the point where she decided it was best she handled your daily routine. Because if you had it your way you'd eat cheese and crackers for every meal, and speed down every single road.

Everything felt like a whirlwind to the witch, because one second she was actively pushing your romantic advances away, then the next she was clinging to you, as if she couldn't exist without you as an extension of herself, and to no one's shock you were clinging right back.

Wanda wasn't sure when it all changed, but somewhere along the way taking care of you went from cute, and joyful to burdensome. She wanted to be the mommy to your baby, but her reservoir of care had suddenly dried up. It'd been a cross she chose to bare, but not one she found herself enjoying, or intending to keep.

This very fact is why she'd been avoiding you for days, ignoring your sweet messages, and moving her schedule around to avoid yours. There was only so much sulking in the library she could do though before she had to face the consequences of her very own actions. So after taking a moment to mourn the impending loss of you, she took off in search of you.

"Hi…," you jumped at the unexpected voice, but you smiled widely and jumped to your feet to greet your distant lover, only to let go and step away with a frown when she didn't hug you back., "If you're not busy, can we talk?"

Oh...

It wasn't hard to decipher her body language, she had bad news, and with all the recent silence and loss of affection it was easy to understand where she was taking this.

"That's ominous..."

"This isn't working Y/N/N.," her eyes shut tight as you instantly sniffled., "I am not sure I was really ready for this, I just saw you with others and it scared me to think I'd be losing you if it worked out with them. But now, all I do is make you cry because I can't be what you need; you deserve so much better than me Y/N."

"So, what now?" your voice came out broken, and your body was lightly trembling, effectively breaking the witches already tattered heart in two., "Are you saying that we're just over?"

"I'm not entirely sure. I've been in tears all day on how to go about bringing this up because I don't ever want to be the reason why someone hurts.," she settled down beside you, and hesitantly hugged you from the side., "But I also don't know that I have the mental capacity with the way my life is to balance a relationship and it's not fair to you if it's one sided like this."

"I understand Wands, this just isn't what you ever wanted, you thought you did, but I am not the person you want.," you sighed, then wiped away at your tears., "You never really did."

"Hey, you don't get to say that for me.," she was scowling now., "I wanted you, but this is not working anymore, and that's all it is."

A tense silence fell over the room, your bodies were no longer connected, and the both of you were just sat in awkward positions until Wanda finally moved to break the deadlocked silence., "I understand if you don't want to be friends."

"Of course I want to be friends Wanda, I love you, and that'll never really go away.," you sadly replied, a subtle hint of desperation in your tone, because you didn't want to lose the woman all together., "It'll be fine eventually."

"I'll need time Y/N.," she stood up, and gently caressed your cheek., "I adore you with all of my heart, but please do give me some space, and I promise that I’ll come back to you."

You nodded, placing your hand over hers you gave it a squeeze, then your lip trembled when she leaned in for a farewell kiss., “Take care of yourself Wanda, I hope you find your happy.”

Once she left the room you fell into a fit of sobs, your chest heaving uncontrollably, and your head soon felt light due to lack of oxygen. Nothing could've ever prepared you for this, one second the witch was doting all over you, telling you of all the dreams she had, and how they all included you, and now you're alone.

Lies whispered in the dead of night are always the sweetest, and when the truth is eventually brought to life they're the most soul crushing.

Your sobbing got so dangerous that Friday called for Natasha, and the redhead was in shock when seeing you so incredibly broken. There wasn't even a question on her mind that she'd not have the answer to, so instead of trying to get you talking, she gently sat beside you, and pulled you in for a tight embrace.

"You're okay Y/N, I got you honey, just relax."

Natasha rocked you, and ran her hand through your hair until your heartbreaking sobs became soft little sniffles with the occasional hiccup.

"She left me Natty.," you croaked, and she held you tighter., "Well she's an idiot.," she relayed, you didn't have it in you to laugh, and that was fine because Natasha wasn't being playful.

"I've got you dorogoy.," she kissed your temple, and held back her own tears at the reinstated action, it'd been months since she'd had you this close to her., "I'm not going anywhere."

—

The next day came with far less emotional regulation, and in turn less stability as you approached Wanda's door, and knocked. There'd been soft music flowing on the other side and you knew she was in there, but she was simply refusing to answer the door.

"Wanda, please, I just need some help with understanding, where did this all go wrong?"

The witch remained silent on the other side, if you didn't know better you'd think she really wasn't there, but you knew her far too well. Shutting down was her method of coping, if she ignored the problem that she made, then she wouldn't have to account for the mess that followed, and in this case that was your heart.

"I don't mean to be annoying, because I fear that's what I'm being by trying to talk to you after you said you needed time away from me.," you decided to just speak freely, and hoped that maybe she cared enough about you to offer you a semblance of closure. "However, I also think me asking for clarity is fair because you were thinking of breaking things off without even cluing me in, and now I'm just sitting here with all these broken little pieces and I need help piecing them back together is all."

You were incredibly wrong though, because the only thing you got was her music shutting off, and the sound of her shower kickstarting.

——

As a month came and went you spent each day unsure how to handle the current situation.

At first you continued to put her first, making her tea in the morning, just like you always did. When you heard she was in a bad space, you sent her kind messages in the hopes that it would help her out of the hole she was in.

All that did though was make her furious. She asked for space, and even if you weren’t in her face like you once were, your presence was still surrounding her everyday. She couldn’t escape the darkness weighing her down, because you were being kind when she deserved your anger.

Wanda had been a consistent presence in your life for so long that being without her just felt wrong. It was too damn hard truthfully, to go from talking to someone everyday to not at all.

To know now that you never meant to her what she meant to you, well that devastated you.

Never in your wildest dreams did you expect her to just break you apart like this, you stupidly trusted her after telling her how hard that is for you, and she still did everything in her power to break you, intentionally or not.

You stopped all of the random acts of kindness, and gave her the space, but she still continued to hurt you, and that baffled you because the woman wouldn’t even speak a word to you.

Today though, she’d have no choice but to say something to you, or at least you thought she would since she’d been your mission partner since the era of Ultron, aka the dawn of time.

Impatiently you waited for her to arrive, but as the time ticked on you began to feel uneasy. Wanda was never late to anything, and that still reigned true as Agent Marques entered the jet in a fit of hyperventilation., “I’m sorry I’m late Agent. Y/L/N.,” he panted harshly.

“I hadn’t a single clue you were to be expected, so I guess it’s fine.,” you grumbled., “However, you’re not even cleared for level 6 missions yet, tell me why is it you’re here for this level 8?”

“Well, Agent Maximoff told Fury this morning that she would no longer be your partner, and this mission couldn’t be postponed, so he said I showed enormous promise, and that you were far too good at your job to really complain.”

In translation, Fury basically told you to suck it up, take the rookie under your wing, and do your job like you always did—quick and well.

Which is exactly what you tried to do, but as you lay on a gurney, trying to guide him on how to fly the quinjet while also doing your best not to bleed out you realize you’d failed.

“Agent Y/L/N, what do I do now?,” he got the jet in the sky, but it was shaking, and you were losing too much blood to remain cognizant., “Call Romanoff, and try not to crash, because if we die, she’ll revive you just to kill you again.”

—

After the mission mishap you took the hint, it was clear as day Wanda suddenly wanted to rid her life of you, and even if she offered you no reasoning, you were going to move forward.

At first, the witch found peace in your choices, it made the guilt of the entire situation slowly fade away. Because if she didn't have to see, or hear about your sadness, then she didn't have to face the music as she brought it all about.

It was in those months of silence that Wanda found herself selfishly missing you. It was a weird feat not having you around anymore, and that's why she was stood outside of your room. Fist raised, ready to knock and plead for a show of mercy, and maybe a bit of forgiveness.

"Wanda, what are you doing here?," you came from around the corner with a giggling Nat, and she was honestly startled., "I, um, wanted to know if we could talk?," she internally cringed at the quiver in her voice, but she held her ground when the redhead glared at her.

"No, Y/N and I—," you turned to face Natasha, your hand gently settled atop of her shoulder, and you smiled tenderly., "It's okay Natty, go to your room and I'll be right behind you with the blankets for our little farewell movie night."

Though reluctant, Natasha left with a kiss to your cheek, and you shifted back to face the center of dissension. All she did was look to you in confusion, so you brushed passed her to enter your room, and shivered as she gasped., "Where's all of your stuff Y/N?," you almost saw a sliver of panic in her eyes, but you chose to ignore it., "What did you mean by farewell?"

"My stuff, not that it's any of your business, is in my suitcases by your feet," you reached into your closet and grabbed your fluffy blanket, then turned to face her., "Farewell means goodbye Wanda, as I'm leaving tomorrow."

"What?," she attempted to reach you but you only stepped away., "Where to?," she felt a tinge of panic in her chest at the glaring truth., "Why? Did I do this? Did I run you off?"

An incredulous laugh fell from your lips, the time for niceties long passed, but even now you hold back., "How conceited of you to think such a thing Wanda.," you stepped up to her, and made sure your eyes locked., "I'm going to Italy for prepaid plans, then after that I'm not exactly sure where I'm headed, but I have time to decide as I'll be gone for about six months."

"You can't go, the team needs you Y/N!," her voice was high pitched as she failed to keep her emotions reeled in, "I need you.," a single tear slipped down her cheek as you laughed again.

"God Wanda, you're insufferable," you moved back a step to create distance for your hands to wave around the air, "One second it's let's be friends, the next I'm your precious baby, then in the blink of an eye I'm nothing to you."

"No, please, you don't understand..."

"What isn't there to understand Wanda?," you shouted, "You pursued me! I was fine with the fucking friendship, but suddenly you weren't."

"I really thought it's what I wanted..."

"Bullshit, you just couldn't imagine me with someone else, so you pursued a dead end."

"No, I wanted this!," she reaffirms more sternly., "Yeah, until you didn't anymore.," her face fell even further as you tiredly repeated the truth, you were her experimental love.

"You went back on your original decision, then when you realized you made a bad call the only one who truly got burned here was me!," you started to feel a wetness on your cheeks, and you were truly shocked to still have tears for this situation at the ready, "You promised me this was what you wanted, that I wasn't a burden, and then you dropped me like I was the bad end of a fucking business deal."

Wanda’s lip trembled, tears streamed down her reddened cheeks, but she didn’t dare respond. This was what she deserved all along, and it brought her a twisted comfort, but it faded fast when your shoulders deflated further, and you sighed in a clear state of exhaustion.

"What hurt the most was the lying though," you chuckled humorlessly as you wiped away your tears, "You said we could be friends, then instead of taking that back too, you just shut me out without another word on as to why."

"I couldn't do it, seeing you hurt too much."

"Feeling is finally mutual Wanda, congrats."

"Please, please don't hate me Y/N/N," she gripped onto your bicep painfully as you went to rush by her, "I-I adore you Y/N, please..."

"That's honestly the worst part," you confess, "As much as I have every right to hate you I don't, all I'll ever have in my heart for you is love Wanda; please, do take care of yourself."

Wanda collapsed the moment you left the room, and for the first time in months you walked away with a pep in your step. Closure is messy, unforgiving, and to some devastating. For one of you it offered a reality check, and for the other it opened up the door to find peace.

—

Everyone knew you were taking time off to put some distance between yourself, and Wanda. It’d been clear to you that's what you needed to move on, but you wouldn't ever say it aloud.

Truthfully, she only chipped away at what was already broken, and it was time you set off to fix yourself, so you could be whole for the next person willing to take a chance on you. There was already someone on your mind, it wasn’t a matter of who anymore, only a matter of when.

You wanted Wanda to be left unscathed here, you loved her too much to wish anything but happiness for the equally as broken girl. So you once again reminded all of them that this was a prepaid vacation that came without refund if you were to cancel it. Then when Tony went to make a quip about the witch ruining everything you reminded him you'd yet to leave in years.

Everyone had met you at the bottom of the stairs to say a variation of goodbye to you, everyone except her, and that was what you wanted. Wanda did however show up, she just watched from the top of the staircase with a heaviness on her heart she didn't enjoy, and you ignored her unmistakable presence.

Natasha's lips brushed over yours softly on the way to your ear, so soft that it couldn't be seen as a kiss, but enough to feel the obvious desire., "Don't be a stranger detka.," you giggled while hugging her tighter. "I'll be back Nat, promise."

As you stepped back her hand slipped into yours, squeezing it tight before she decided to escort you out to your car. Wanda watched the entire engagement with a hatred burning in her chest. It was an all consuming feeling, it felt unfair to feel, and when she heard you giggle again she knew it was a feeling for herself.

She'd been no stranger to the self-loathing, but this somehow felt different—avoidable really.

She watched from the door as Nat helped you load up your belongings, the two of you sharing in conversation and laughter so effortlessly. Wanda wondered why she couldn't grow to be this person for you, because truth be told you deserved the unconditional love of a partner. That was never a question for her, it was the exact reason why she ended things, because she couldn't bare being the reason you cried anymore. Every time she brushed you off, or left you wondering what you did to deserve the silence she knew she was breaking your heart.

Your precious heart that resided in your chest. The one that left you rather vulnerable to the darkness that encased her very own heart. You'd given her everything, and she let you do it even when knowing she could never return your affections. She could only ever placate you, and it actually pissed her off that you were so willing to accept such a broken form of love.

There was love for you that resided deep within the woman, but it wasn't the type to flourish, so she might've felt bad, but never enough to try. Nevertheless, she still felt a sting when you disappeared from her life, even when it was her shoving you out of it. Now too, it hurt her when you never even spared her another glance, she knew you knew that she was stood there.

Your lack of acknowledgement meant this was really over—something she herself initially wanted, but now, as she watched your car disappearing she began to second guess her every decision. Especially when she realized she was now perpetually alone, as Natasha harshly brushed passed her she knew it well.

If only she had just left well enough alone, had she stuck to her guns of friendship with you, and never pursued you so aggressively just to drop you at the first sign of annoyance then everything would be okay... You'd still be hers in some fraction, and she would be happy.

Wanda was never going to be yours, something she'll forever berate her wretched heart over, because now you'll never be hers again...

———

5,876 Words

❤️ Kaitlyn 😭

———

[aroaceleovaldez]

I've been listening to hank green explain (at various times with various contexts but most recently during a vlogbrothers video on Bree Sharp's David Duchovny) how "nothing lasts on the contemporary internet" and I wonder what that might have to do with your analysis on fandom infrastructure... like IS it even possible for BNF/public AUs/OCs/fandom events to exist at the same scale in the new internet? I also have to wonder if rr is similarly operating in this new (awful) way with the knowledge that the old books could last longer as cultural moments while the new books are kinda just... there to trend for a hot minute and then fade away into nonexistence within the fandom canon. or maybe i'm just coping bc I miss old tumblr

I absolutely do think old-style fandom is possible on the modern internet! some of the oldest pillars of fandom are from BEFORE the internet was popularized! Plus, there are still plenty of old-style fandoms that are active in those same ways!

You mention "at the same scale" and i think that's interesting because, yes, a lot of those old-style fandoms that are active are smaller. The thing is the scope of old fandom we're used to when we think of classic examples are outliers who were MASSIVE. PJO was a fandom GIANT back in the day, at least so far as book fandoms went (and still is!). The major thing that's changed is that "fandom" has become mainstream - or at least, the concept of fandom.

The thing with mainstream modern fandom is it gets conflated with general audience a lot. A lot of people trying to engage with fandom when they're new to it don't understand how it's different from just being a normal fan or audience member of a thing, and so just treat them as equivalent and this causes a lot of problems. The main one being the reliance on source material - which causes a lot of newer fandoms to die out whenever there is no new source material - comparatively to old-style fandom, which is inherently self-sustaining.

Some examples of old-style fandoms that are still plenty active are furry fandom (obviously), a decent number of anime fandoms (particularly older ones or less mainstream ones cause the communities are smaller/closer-knit, also their fandoms aren't as strictly western-leaning), and Hermitcraft/associated fandoms is one particularly that I'm in that's VERY active and old-fandom style. They're constantly engaging with material that's long over or series that have ended (Evo, older Life series, older Hermitcraft seasons, etc). They have fandom OCs/AUs/concepts that are shared, they have a TON of projects happening constantly (a recent massive one that just finished is the Hotguy Comics zine! It's an incredibly cool project). Hermitcraft fandom is pretty much the closest new* fandom to old-style fandom that I've found so far (*it is technically 11 years old but it had a recent boom during the MCYT surge in like 2020).

But yes! Old-style fandom absolutely can still exist - and does! It's just far less common because the mainstream image/concept of what fandom is that has become popularized differs from it in practicality. People are being introduced to fandom as just being equivalent to a general audience and are interacting with it as such, when it should be interacted with as a niche, very passionate community. The core of old fandom is always community.

I guess i would describe it as like, passive fandom versus active fandom? Passive fandom being the "new fandom" type format - near complete reliance on source material, usually some attitude of entitlement towards fanwork creators because theyre viewing it as another source material to passively engage with, large lack of headcanons or hcs being equated to theories, shipping is restricted almost exclusively to canon pairings (and ships/headcanons are treated more as things you want to become canon, not explorations outside of canon), etc etc. There's no community or creation happening, only a focus on consumption and maybe at best how to streamline consumption (the only sorts of hubs we see form in this type of fandom are update accounts and official social medias). Basically no proper community has formed and there is little to no engagement with the material outside of the source media. (I also have a theory that this format leads to some New Fandom behaviors that have become more commonplace comparatively to Old Fandom, such as a LOT more trying to directly interact with writers/cast/crew or reliance on them as secondary source materials during hiatus or similar - we see this now with PJO TV and a lot of people downright literally stalking the actors - and almost a refusal to make fanwork of their own. You see a lot more of "omg somebody write/draw [concept]" or trying to pitch ideas to source material writers because they only want to engage passively, not actively, or genuinely don't know how to engage actively.) Big Name Fans can absolutely exist in this sphere, but it's a completely different environment (for PJO, Velinxi is a good example of a new fandom BNF - ive found in this format of fandom, BNFs are almost exclusively fanartists, because fanart is one of the easiest fanworks to find and passively engage with. This also often results in the community being extremely entitled towards larger fanartists).

Active fandom, comparatively, is focused on community and creation. This is where you see fandom projects, engaging with the media beyond the source material, things of that nature. There is actually a structured community.

This post got long but I have more points regarding the second half of your question and my thoughts for why the new books are so. Like That. so I'm going to move that whole ramble to a second post which I will post momentarily.

[part 2 here!]

[laughhardrunfastbekindsblog]

I've been reflecting recently on why I love Bad Batch SOOOO much (no, seriously, I've been obsessed since the show first started airing and my obsession isn't fading anytime soon) while also still having some issues with the finale. And I think it's because the story reminds me so much of my own family. (Note: my ramblings in this post do get personal.)

I loved Clone Force 99 from the moment they were introduced in The Clone Wars. A band of clone misfits who are instantly recognized as different but also are close to each other and work together seamlessly with plenty of banter? Give me more! The amazingly resilient Echo is brought back and of course joins them? YES!!! So when it was announced that the Bad Batch would be getting their own show, I was thrilled! Yay for more crazy sibling shenanigans!

And then season 1 happened, with the squad almost immediately fracturing amidst all the changes occurring with the rise of the Empire. Ooof, hello reality.

I grew up in a large family with lots of siblings. We were all super close (and kinda crazy 😂) growing up; as we've become adults, however, personality differences have led some of my siblings to stop talking to each other which then bled over into them not talking to anyone else in the family. Not gonna lie, the past few years have been really hard, trying to figure out how best to navigate things so as to not push any of my siblings away but also give them their space.

Needless to say, I saw my family reflected in the Bad Batch. The Bad Batch were so close for so long, and then started falling apart. When Crosshair not only wouldn't go with his family in the season 1 finale but also seemed to be rejecting Hunter's statement that they could pursue different paths without being enemies, my heart broke even more. I know it will be a long time - if ever - that my own family members all reconcile with each other, so I really wanted this little clone family, at least, to get that chance. (Living out my hopes and dreams in fiction, I guess?)

Season 2 continued the season 1 trend of showing us both sides in such a sympathetic and nuanced way. I like to try keeping an open mind and seeing a situation from different angles/POV, both in real life and with fictional stories; so I think a big part of the reason why I adore this show is because it gave us the opportunity to consider both the main squad's AND Crosshair's perspectives, which honestly was a great exercise for me over the past few years in keeping an open mind regarding my own siblings' experiences and opinions (even if I don't always agree with them). And I was still holding out hope that this little clone family would have a chance to reconcile and be whole again.

And then Tech fell.

I'm crying right now just thinking about it.

(Tech was my favorite OG CF99 member since the moment he first stepped on screen, so his death would have been excruciatingly painful regardless; but the fact that he apparently died before the family could be fully reconciled... Well, I already know such a scenario - someone dying before reconciliation - is sadly possible with my own family, but having it happen to this fictional family just hit WAY too close to home, and I would have been equally devastated about this if any other Bad Batcher had died.)

Going into season 3, I knew there was a chance Tech wouldn't come back, much as I wanted him to. I LOVED watching Crosshair build a relationship with Omega, rejoin the family and reconcile with his other brothers, but... Tech is his brother too! With each passing episode, it was a struggle between hoping Tech would come back so the family would actually get their chance to be whole again, while also looking for any closure, any indication that Tech's memory and legacy would be acknowledged and honored by all the siblings he'd sacrificed himself for. I wanted Tech to be alive to get his own happy ending for his own sake, but if a comeback wasn't happening I wanted his life and sacrifice to clearly serve as an influence and motivation for his family. And for his siblings' sake (ESPECIALLY Crosshair's), if Tech was really dead and there wasn't going to be a full reunion, at least let the whole family heal from the loss, at least let the family honor the brother who gave everything to give them a chance to reunite.

The finale concluded, and I realized we got neither: there had been no full family reunion, and there had been no real closure/healing for the family regarding Tech's sacrifice either. (And I don't think it's at all unreasonable to have assumed the show would give us one or the other.)

Look, I'm one of those people who walked into Rogue One assuming it would have a happy ending. (Oh, those days when I was so young and naive...) So let me tell you, that ending traumatized me almost as badly as the ending of ASM2.

But, while other tragic/bittersweet endings have shaken me, it was the Bad Batch finale that literally left me feeling physically ill for days afterwards. Like, I was so relieved that everyone else lived? But it was so strange to be told it was a "happy ending" when, out of the entire family, only Omega kinda sorta maybe (if you squint) had a moment to honor their fallen brother? The family goes through all that trauma and loss and we end the show without actually resolving it, without the family actually healing? Tech's sacrifice made the Batch's eventual retirement possible, and the show won't even just say it? And to add insult to injury, after an entire season with the narrative teasing the possibility of Tech still being alive with CX2 being the forerunning explanation for it, it's all "well, we're still not going to provide any real closure on this plot point, but aren't you glad you can maybe assume Tech ISN'T CX2 since Hunter ran that sucker through without blinking an eye? Look, happy ending!"

I'm still stuck in "season 1" with my own family, so watching this story play out and ultimately conclude with this fictional family not getting full closure regarding one of their own siblings who had never been anything but supportive of all of them was... unsatisfying, to say the least. I LOVE that the clones, who were created by Palpatine to be discarded, managed to (unknowingly) strike a significant blow against Palpatine's plans. I LOVE that Omega and some of the other clones were able to choose to live peacefully on Pabu. I LOVE that Crosshair came back to his family. Still, I will never get over how Tech was handled - both the character himself and the characters he was closest to.

And I think this is part of the reason why I really hope the Bad Batch's on-screen appearances aren't completely over yet - and why, even without factoring in all the narrative ambiguity in season 3, I'm still rooting for Tech to return. Tech himself definitely deserved better, and his family deserved better too.

So there's my long-winded explanation for why there's not a single day that goes by that I don't think about this show 😅

[butter-pangcake]

DetCo OS #2: Whiskey trio

Pairing: HiroRei

English isn't my first language

There's a mystery melody that Rye heard while working with the other two whiskey codenames every now and then.

The first time; after he removed his earbuds from checking the CCTV of some place to make a plan at their temporary safehouse.

Bourbon, who's always cautious to the point of paranoid; was making a soft sound in his throat as he researched on something.

The noises stopped, when Rye made a big movement. Turned to that direction and saw those blue eyes glaring back at him as usual.

The second time; Rye was almost forgot about it. But when he heard the same tune coming from hooded partner while hanging out on the rooftop, his curiosity was rising up again.

It's not unusual for Scotch to be familiar with music, because he was walking around with that white bass that once taught 'Do-Re-Mi' to his younger sister some time ago.

Unlike Bourbon, Scotch didn't seem to care if anyone heard him humming. Rye concluded to himself that, it's probably nothing to be wary of. The two looked about the same age, maybe it's just a melody from a recent hit song that he wasn't interested in following the trend.

His curiosity growing bigger and bigger.

He himself also had been in a band, playing some instruments. So, he tried putting the rhythms he heard so many times, he got it remembered into a music search application. But the results are empty. Should he go and asks; it probably wasn't much of Rye's personality, so the idea was dropped.

Until the day he unconsciously hummed that tune aloud.

The two whiskeys' reactions were clearly surprised. Almost frightened, especially Bourbon.

But they kept quiet. So, Rye started the talk.

"You two keep humming the same song, now I got an earworm" he tilted his head and signed.

"...Yeah, I got it from Scotch too..." Bourbon frowned, squinting towards the person.

"Eh...Fine, I admit I'm guilty" Scotch smiled wryly, raised both hands in surrender in a not-so-serious tone.

"Well, at least tell me the song name. So, I don't have to keep wondering what's it from" When saw the opportunity, he grasped it.

"..." Both were silent again. Scotch's still smiling but there're no emotions in his eyes, difficult to guessed what he was thinking.

It's like looking at a mask.

"Untitled. Is the name" The emotionless smiling mask looked away, then stood up as a sign not to speak any more of this.

Bourbon also did the same.

Even though he got the (questionable) song name, it didn't get any easier. Because there are all sorts of songs with the same name. There was no way he could sit and listen to each song, so he gave up and forgot about it.

.

Many things have happened over the years. He was fortunate enough to be able to keep breathing to this day.

But can't say the same to them.

One person loses his most precious friend in his life. Charge forward by his rage, keeping all the grief in his heart to himself. Alone.

Furuya Rei.

Another lost everything, including his own life. The person he hoped to save.

A man whose name he didn't even know.

Lost in thought, Akai began to softly hum a song he had heard long ago.

The sound of leather shoes stops behind. So, he turns to meet the new person. One of the people he just thought of.

"That melody..." The blonde-haired mutters.

"..." He waits for another person to continue.

"We came up with it in high school, but we haven't got a time to finished." Furuya's voice was fading, he hands over the files from the joint cooperation.

"I also...want to know its name too." Then walks away.

Ah,

Is that so...

The song isn't finished yet...so it doesn't have a name.

That's why...at that time

He replied:

[Untitled]

[do-it-jakey-baby]

An Unlikely Encounter

Jake Kiszka x f!reader

Warnings: language, physical violence, mentions of agoraphobia (I think that’s it, sorry if there’s more!)

18+, MINORS DNI

TAGLIST: @torniturntomyarrow

Sorry, no smut in this one! But I promise there’s more juicy content around the corner. 😉

Chapter 3

3.6k word count

You froze solid as her words sunk in.

You’re trending.

Everyone thinks you’re Jake Kiszka’s new girlfriend.

Your world seemed to spin at a nauseating pace. You could hear your best friend still speaking to you on the other end of the phone but her words fizzled into the abyss. Your fingers frantically darted across the screen of your phone as you searched across social media, finding your face plastered across every site, every Greta Van Fleet hashtag. You were there in every nook, cranny and corner of the fandom. People were asking the same questions. Who is she? Does anyone know her? Where did she come from? Is she British? Is she Jake Kiszka’s girlfriend? Is she nice?

“Y/N!! Hello?!” You hear blaring from your outstretched palm.

“Katrina, what the fuck is happening?!” You babbled, barely fighting back the sob that was threatening to bubble up from your chest. All of the commotion had Jake running back into the room, his eyes wide and hands flailing.

“Y/N, what is it? Are you ok?”

You put your phone on speaker. “Kat, please, you tell him. I can’t think straight right now.”

“Uhh… ok, I’m guessing that’s Jake with you? Hi, Jake. I’m Katrina, Y/N’s best friend.”

“Hi, Katrina. Yeah, it’s Jake. What the fuck is going on?”

“You might want to see for yourself, my guess is if you check any of your social media accounts it’ll be there ready and waiting.”

Jake scoured the floor to find his jeans and retrieved his phone from the pocket. Unlocking the screen, he clicked into an app and sighed. He knew this all too well, anyone who got even remotely close to one of the band members was dissected by their fanbase almost instantaneously.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry, I should have known better before asking you to get in the picture with us earlier.”

You were still in a state of shock, going from a nobody to a somebody within the space of 24 hours was eating away at you. You’d never experienced anything like this before, you always faded into the crowd. You rarely received attention and you kinda liked it that way.

“What happens now?” You speak up, your voice meek and raspy.

“I’ll call the guys, but it’s not a big deal. Shit like this blows over, it’s not a controversy. Danny has a lot of female friends, he’s well versed in this.”

“Ok, in your world it might not be a big deal, but it is in mine. I am a nobody from a small town in South England, Jake. Now my face is all over the internet!” You throw yourself down onto the bed in frustration, hiding your face in the peaks of the duvet.

“If it helps, babe, most people are just commenting on how pretty you are.” Kat chimes in. You’d almost forgot she was still on the phone.

“I’ll leave you to it, but I want you to call me ASAP and fill me in. I want to know how the hell you managed to meet our favourite band. Sorry, Jake, but a girl needs the deets.”

“I understand. Well, hey, I’m sure we could arrange something so that you get to meet your favourite band too.” Jake chuckled.

“I’ll take that as payment for holding my best friend captive for the last 24 hours, Kiszka. Y/N, I’ll call tomorrow. Love you, bye.”

Jake sat beside you and placed a gentle hand on your back. You let out an exaggerated groan and lifted your face up to look at him.

“Make all of your accounts private, if they aren’t already. It’ll blow over, angel.”

He placed a soft kiss to your forehead and handed you the damp washcloth.

“Thank you, but I actually just think I’ll jump in the shower, if that’s ok?”

“Of course, angel. I’ll go warm it up for you.” He squeezed your thigh and moved to the bathroom. You heard him flip the water on, the sound of it splashing down onto the shower tray instantly soothing you. It was just what you needed, you longed to feel the steam on your face and wash away the stress you’d ensued over the complete bomb your best friend had dropped onto your life. Yeah, maybe you were overreacting, but the thought of your face being burnt into every fan’s memory was filling you with dread. You began to sweat again, pulling yourself back into a panic, but just as you started slipping Jake was there again. The comfort of his presence lulled you back into a feeling of security. He grounded you, and that was a difficult thing for anyone to do, let alone a man you’d known for a mere 48 hours. He took your hand and guided you off the bed, pressing it against the small of your back and drawing you in. His other hand manoeuvred to cup your jaw and he captured you in a kiss that was sweeter than honey. You were falling under his spell so quickly, you hadn’t even realised the extent yet.

“Mind if I join you?”

“I was hoping you’d ask.” You breathed, grasping at his hair as you pulled him back in for another kiss.

~

You and Jake spent the entire week together. You’d made passing comments about how you were intruding on his time with his band and should probably get going, but he was having none of it and always insisted you stayed. You couldn’t help the incessant intrusive thoughts from bouncing off every corner of your brain.

Why would he want to spend time with me?

Surely I’m just something to pass the time?

He’s going to get bored of me soon and move onto the next girl…

But each time, he silently proved you wrong. You’d never experienced intimacy like this. He was so attentive to your every need, always making sure you were comfortable, thinking about even the smallest of details. He had learnt so much about you and continuously surprised you with how much he absorbed. He knew your favourite bubble tea place that was tucked away secretly behind the bustling streets, and that your go-to was the honeydew melon milk tea (soy milk, you were lactose intolerant), light ice, semi-sweetness, with lychee popping bubbles. He knew you struggled in public and had previously battled with agoraphobia. He knew all the right places to touch you and could turn you into a whining, shaking mess at the snap of his fingers. He was unlike any other man you’d met before and any other man you’d ever meet again. The feelings that you felt after your week together were terrifying, because you knew he could disappear at the drop of a hat and all of the walls you’d meticulously built up over time would come crashing down around you, crushing you under the rubble and burying you alive. The unknown left you feeling nauseous with crippling anxiety. You liked control, craved it. If you were in control, the only person who could hurt you, was you. But here you were, your fragile heart entirely in the hands of another being.

On his last evening in London before they left for Dublin, Kat invited them over to her flat for dinner. You had joined her early to help her prep, your hands shaking as you chopped the tomatoes.

“Y/N, dude. Will you chill, please? I don’t fancy a trip to A&E tonight because you’ve severed your finger.” She rolls her eyes and places her hand on top of yours, signalling for you to put the knife down.

“But I want to help! You can’t do everything Katrina, even if you’d prefer that I wasn’t in your way.” You giggle at her, picking the tea towel up off the side to wipe your hands.

“Yeah you’re right, get the fuck out of my kitchen before you burn the place down.” She winks. You ball the tea towel up in your hands and throw it at her, it landing on her head, draping over her face.

“You have 3 seconds to get out of my sight before I kick your ass.”

“Ok, ok. I’ll go and get ready. Call me if you need me.”

“I won’t!”

You walk away, chuckling to yourself. You loved your friendship with Kat. She was more like your sister than your best friend, the only person who was a constant in your life, and she held a special place in your heart. There wasn’t much room in there for anyone else, you’d closed yourself off from the world long ago. Too many disappointments, people came and went and you weren’t interested in temporary. You sat down at your vanity and stared at the reflection in the mirror. Did tonight have to come around so soon?

You’d just finished off your hair when you heard the doorbell chime. Standing up, you smoothed the front of your satin skirt and took a deep breath. As you opened the door you were greeted by 4 beaming faces.

“Y/N, you look positively radiant, my dear!” Josh’s voice rang out as he pushed to the front and wrapped his arms around you.

“Hi Josh.” You smiled into his curls.

One by one the boys greeted you with friendly embraces and entered the flat, until it was just you and Jake stood there.

“Hi, Angel.” He grinned, bending to press a kiss to your cheek. You turned your face and your hand found your way up into his hair as your lips crashed against his. Jake, seemingly taken aback by your forwardness, relaxed and melted into your kiss. His hands snaked around your waist and he pulled you closer into him.

“Miss me?” He teased, lips still pressed against yours. You pulled back, raising an eyebrow, before turning to make your way in. You hear him chuckle to himself softly.

“Thank you all so much for coming.” You address the room.

“It is our pleasure, thank you lovely ladies for hosting.” Sam replies. He’s over by the oven next to Kat, watching her intently as she stirs the sauce on the hob. Kat is probably one of the most beautiful women you’ve ever seen, her features are sharp and pixie-like, with big green eyes like pools of molten emerald. Her long, auburn hair is naturally curly and is styled in a half up-do. It’s not hard to see why Sam is hovering.

“So, Kat, how long have you been a fan?” Sam questions, leaning on the counter next to her.

“Who says I’m a fan?” She responds with a wink.

“I did!” Jake yells from the sofa.

“I never said who I was a fan of.” You think you can just about see Sam’s heart pounding in his chest, like something out of the Looney Tunes. The thought makes you snort on your drink, but you quickly re-direct the attention away.

“Who’s hungry? Kat’s made her family’s famous spaghetti.”

“And no, you may not have the recipe.” Kat smirks.

Everyone tucks in and you hear a symphony of slurps and mmms.

“Kat, where did you learn to cook like this? It’s amazing!” Danny asks.

“My Nonna is Italian, so she’s very strict about how my family cook. This recipe has been passed down through generations.”

“Jake is somewhat of a chef himself.” Josh offers, receiving a swift elbow to the ribs by Jake.

“I’m not that good!”

When everyone has finished eating and complimenting Kat on her culinary skills, Sam jumps up from the table to retrieve the dirty plates and carries them to the sink.

“Oh yeah, who are you trying to impress, Sam?” You probe.

His head snaps to look at you and his cheeks flush. “Uhh no, no one. Just being a helpful guest.” He grins sheepishly. Kat walks over to him, placing a hand on his arm. “It’s appreciated Samuel, thank you.” She places a quick kiss to his cheek and opens the dishwasher for him.

“Oooo Sam’s got a girlfriend!”You tease.

The evening seems to pass in a flash, everyone seeming to love Kat just as much as they love you. As they prepare to leave, Jake stands and clears his throat. You look at him in anticipation.

“So, as you know we’re continuing our tour in Dublin tomorrow, then we have another two UK venues before we head further South.” He pauses, glancing at the boys. “We’ve all been talking, and if you want to we’d love you to come to our last stop in Europe.” You stand, wide-eyed, wondering if you’ve heard him correctly.

“Your last show is in Portugal.”

“Yeah, don’t worry, everything would be taken care of. Your flights, hotel, tickets and VIP passes.”

“Jake, that’s too much.”

“Y/N, we’ve made two fantastic friends this week. We want you to be there.” Josh smiles, placing his hand over yours that you didn’t event realise was nervously clawing into your knee. Kat looks over at you and nods. She runs her own business so is free to to clear her schedule, and you’re currently in between jobs and in the meantime have been helping her out with admin and other ‘tedious shit’ she has no care for.

“Ok.” You breathe. The lads whoop and cheer around you, pulling you both into a group hug. Danny pulls out his phone and gathers you round, flipping his camera to the front and yelling “Say cheese!”. Jake loops his arms around your waist as you all huddle together to get into the frame. Just as Danny presses the button to take the photo, Sam plants a kiss onto Kat’s cheek.

“Mind if I post this to my story?” Danny asks.

“Yeah, fuck it. My face is everywhere now anyway.” You laugh. Kat nods her approval and the photo is uploaded. You all say your goodbyes and Jake lingers by the door, his face sombre.

“Hey, you’ll see me in two weeks.” You place a hand on his cheek.

“Two weeks too long.” He huffs, lacing his fingers between yours. You stand there for a few moments, soaking up the last moments with him for a while. He caresses your cheek and captures you in a tender kiss. The world seems to slow to a stop and it’s just you and Jake in that moment, nothing else matters but him. Jake Jake Jake.

He pulls away, eyes filled with sorrow. “Goodbye, angel. Take care of yourself. I’ll message you every day.”

“Bye, Jake.” The door shuts and then he’s gone. You sink down to the floor, warm tears rolling down your cheeks and onto your hands.

Why are you crying? Sort yourself out, woman!

Kat’s footsteps echo down the hall and she finds a space on the floor next to you, wrapping her arms around you.

“Hey, you just think about us tearing it up in Portugal. None of that, please.” She gestures to your tear streaked face and hands. “I’m going to the shop to pick up some tequila, god knows you need it tonight. We’ll stick on a shitty movie and talk about all the carnage we’ll create, they’ll never invite us anywhere again after this.” She laughs and you join in, always finding her playfulness infectious.

“I’ll be back before you can say ‘I miss my rockstar boyfriend’”.

“He’s not my boyfriend!” You smack her arm, then allow her to pull you off the floor. You plod into the bathroom and remove your makeup, then slip into some cosy pyjamas and settle down onto the sofa. A few moments pass and you hear a knock at the door. Chuckling to yourself, you assume Kat has forgotten her keys for the millionth time, so begin making your way to the front door.

“When will you learn to-”

Your blood runs cold at the sight before you.

“Connor, what the fuck are you doing here?” Your ex-boyfriend stands there, disheveled and reeking of cheap vodka and cigarettes.

“What the fuck are you doing? Not just giving it out to any randomer like the filthy slut you are. You’re fucking Jake Kiszka?!”

“It’s none of your fucking business who I’m fucking!”You huff.

The fury bubbling from within him is evident, he’s shaking in blind rage with his fists balled at his sides, knuckles white.

“How long have you been fucking him? You’ve always oozed groupie mentality, you disgusting whore. I’m sure he’s just using you for an easy lay.” He spits.

“Get the fuck out of here you freak! What you’re stalking me now?! You don’t own me, Connor!”

He charges into the door, knocking you down in the process. As he lunges forwards, two men walking past spot the commotion and run to pull him off you. They throw him onto the pavement outside and he shuffles to his feet before fleeing the scene.

“Are you ok, love?”

You can’t even respond, your whole body wracking with sobs as they roll from deep within your chest.

“Y/N, what the fuck?! What’s happened?!” Kat screeches from across the road, her arms littered with shopping bags.

You zone out as the two men explain what they witnessed. How had your evening taken this much of a turn? In your trance you’re being lifted and placed into your bed. Kat thanks the men and sees them out, then crawls into bed behind you and holds you, stroking your hair gently until you cry yourself to sleep.

[haynahkho]

missed the mark

characters: hilda and marianne (fire emblem three houses)

pairing: hilda/marianne (f/f)

wc: ~1k

Marianne experiences the fear of missing out. Luckily, there's Hilda.

The courtyard of Garreg Mach Monastery buzzed with the chatter of students during one of their short break between classes. Marianne sat on the outskirts, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, listening as some of her fellow classmates shared jokes and stories. As usual, she stayed quiet, nodding politely whenever the group laughed, even though she often didn’t fully understand why.

She had always been more reserved than her peers, and since arriving at the Officer’s Academy, she had become painfully aware of just how sheltered her upbringing had been. The noble traditions she had been taught didn’t seem to have prepared her for the casual camaraderie that came so naturally to others. Today, however, she had found herself feeling particularly brave—brave enough to finally ask.

“I’m sorry,” Marianne interrupted softly, her voice trembling slightly, “Could someone explain what that joke means?”

There was a moment of silence as the group turned to her. Then, one of the students laughed—not cruelly, but lightheartedly, as if it were part of the fun. “Oh, Marianne, you really don’t know?”

Another chimed in, “You’ve been sheltered too long, haven’t you?”

“I guess that’s what happens when you live in a mega mansion,” one added with a teasing grin.

Marianne forced a smile, but her heart sank. She could tell they weren’t trying to hurt her—they didn’t mean it maliciously. But the heat rising in her cheeks and the tightness in her chest told her that she felt embarrassed nonetheless. The one time she had dared to step out of her comfort zone, and it had only resulted in more teasing. They hadn’t even bothered to explain the joke to her.

Her gaze dropped to the ground, and she could already feel the familiar urge to retreat. To disappear somewhere quiet and hide until the weight of the moment faded away.

Before she could make her escape, though, a voice called out, loud and clear from behind her.

“Oh, leave her alone, will you?” Hilda appeared, her hands on her hips, pouting. The other students fell silent, a mix of sheepishness and amusement lingering in their expressions. “She just asked a question. Geez, no need to gang up on her.”

The group exchanged a few glances, and then, with a few chuckles, they turned back to their conversation, leaving Marianne to exhale quietly. She hadn’t realized how tense she’d become until that very moment.

“Hey.” Hilda moved to sit beside her on the bench, her hand resting gently on Marianne’s shoulder. “You alright?”

Marianne gave a small nod, but her expression remained forlorn. “I’m fine,” she whispered. “They didn’t mean any harm, really. I just… I don’t understand things sometimes. It’s my own fault.”

Hilda’s brow furrowed slightly. “Your fault? That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think? You can’t help how you grew up. Besides,” she added, giving Marianne’s shoulder a gentle squeeze, “it’s not like knowing every dumb joke or trend is all that important.”

Marianne hesitated. “But it feels important. Everyone else understands these things so easily. It’s like I’m always behind, always out of place.”

Hilda leaned back against the bench, crossing her legs casually. “Pfft. Trust me, half of the people who laugh at those jokes don’t really understand them either. They’re just pretending to be cool. You’re not missing out on much.”

Marianne blinked, her lips parting slightly in surprise. “Really?”

“Really,” Hilda confirmed with a laugh. “Honestly, trends come and go so fast. You’d have to be a genius to keep up with all of them. And who cares about a joke here and there? You’ve got other things you’re amazing at.”

Marianne shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t know… I don’t feel amazing at anything. I’m not like you, Hilda. You make everything look so effortless. Everyone loves being around you.”

Hilda paused for a moment, her gaze softening as she looked at Marianne. “Effortless, huh?” She chuckled under her breath before nudging Marianne playfully with her elbow. “Do you really think I don’t get overwhelmed sometimes? Sure, I might act like I’ve got it all together, but trust me, I’ve had plenty of moments where I’ve felt totally clueless. I just fake it until I figure it out.

Marianne blinked, her gray eyes widening with surprise. “You… really?”

“Oh yeah,” Hilda said with a grin. “You know, a lot of people probably feel like that sometimes. You’re not alone in this, Marianne. And just because you don’t know the latest joke doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with you. It means you’ve got a lot of other important things on your mind, that’s all.”

There was a pause as Marianne processed Hilda’s words. Slowly, the tension in her shoulders began to ease.

“I’m sorry if you felt obliged to come over,” Marianne mumbled, her hands fiddling with the fabric of her skirt. “I shouldn’t have asked—”

“Don’t apologize for asking questions,” Hilda interrupted firmly, giving her a nudge. “That’s how you learn. And honestly, I’m glad you asked. It shows you’re curious and brave enough to want to connect with people. That’s a good thing.”

Marianne looked down at her hands, a small smile tugging at her lips despite her lingering embarrassment. “Brave… I don’t feel brave.”

“Well, you should,” Hilda said, standing up and stretching her arms above her head. She turned to Marianne and gave her a warm smile. “You’ve come a long way since we first met. And don’t worry about the others—they’re just being silly. If they ever tease you again, you just call me, alright? I can't guarantee that I'd get it right, but we have Claude for that!”

Marianne nodded, a bit of warmth returning to her cheeks, but this time, it wasn’t from embarrassment. It was from the comfort and reassurance Hilda’s words had brought her.

As Hilda made a move to leave, she reached out and patted Marianne on the head gently, ruffling her hair just a bit. “You’re doing great, Marianne. Seriously. Just be yourself. You’ve got more people who care about you than you think.”

Marianne looked up, her eyes shining with gratitude. “Thank you, Hilda.”

Hilda winked. “Anytime. Now, come on, let’s get some tea before we have to head back to class. My treat.”

With that, the two of them stood up, Hilda walking confidently ahead while Marianne followed, feeling just a little lighter than she had before.

[indeedcaptain]

Regulatory Relations, chapter 12: The Tourists // The Hacker

HELLO ALL. I hope you're having a lovely January and I haven't missed too many cool trends or posts or what have you. Behold, a fucking monster of a chapter that I should have split into two!

some fun links! first, here is a crinoid. i didn't even make it up, that's really what it looks like. second, if you like the natural history museum as much as kirk, spock, and i do, you might like this book: otherlands. these links will make more sense after reading.

This chapter is also posted on my AO3 here. :)

Okay. Here's the chapter. Off I go again to play too much Tetris. Hugs and kisses.

☆☆☆

Kirk woke up with a crick in his neck and a twinge in his spine. His alarm sounded suspiciously far away, and it wasn’t until he peeled his eyes open that he remembered his rash decision to sleep on his couch. His alarm beeped aggressively from its spot next to his bed, and he dragged Spock’s blanket over his shoulders as he shuffled across the room to turn it off. He sat heavily on the edge of the bed as the lights came on, absentmindedly rubbing his cheek against the soft fabric of the blanket, which still held the slightest reminder of Spock.

He felt like someone had wrung out his spirit like a sponge, but at least a night of sleep had rubbed the sharpest edges off his emotions. For a moment he considered laying down on his bed, dragging the blanket back over his head, and giving up on the day before it had really begun--- but he was the captain. He had responsibilities. He pulled the blanket to his face one more time, inhaling as much as he could, before standing, dropping it back on the couch, and heading into the bathroom to shower. 

He and Spock had fought before. In the early days of his captaincy, before he had understood that the Vulcan’s questions and disagreements were the logical outputs of a logical mind and not a personal attack on his leadership, they had fought frequently. But slowly, over time, they had settled into a rhythm that forced them both to be better than either of them were individually. Kirk could only hope that they would be able to find that rhythm again. He would apologize as soon as he could find the words. As soon as he felt like a real human being again and not a faded copy of one. 

Kirk stepped out of the sonic, shaved, dressed, and left their quarters before coming to an abrupt halt. A white wall stood in silent judgment in front of him. With a sinking heart, he realized that some small part of him had been hoping that, despite everything, Spock would be standing outside the door. The turbodoor closed behind him as he stared at the wall, willing Spock to materialize. But he did not. Kirk walked down the hallway alone.

☆☆☆

Bones and Uhura were eating breakfast together at a square four-top table, but Spock was nowhere to be seen when Kirk entered the officers’ mess. Bones was probably still angry with him for vanishing out of Medbay, and if Kirk had to guess he would assume that Uhura would take Spock’s side in their breakup, if that’s what it was. Kirk had to admit that, if he were her, Kirk would too. Didn’t she say, right at the start, that he had better be good to Spock? He stood in the entrance to the mess, frozen, the beginnings of a cage forming around his lungs. He had wrecked his relationships; he had lost Spock, and then Uhura for good measure, and pushed Bones away and the woman in whom he had placed all of the trust he had left after Tarsus had lied to him and hurt Kevin in his name---

“Jim!” At the sound, Kirk snapped to attention. Bones waved at him with a half-eaten piece of toast, and when their eyes met Bones kicked the chair next to him out from the table. Kirk blinked, but made it across the mess mostly and slid into the chair Bones had indicated. 

“If there’s ever been a man more in need of a cup of joe, I haven’t met him,” Bones said to Uhura, and she nodded solemnly. 

“I was just about to get another. Would you like one, captain?” Her voice was perfectly even; her liquid-dark eyes met his without hesitation. 

“That would be nice,” he said, the first words he’d said that day coming out rough, and she nodded. As she walked away, Bones turned to him. 

“How are you holding up, Jim?” The kindness in his eyes was unexpected. Kirk, undeserving, turned away from it. 

“Are you going to remove me from command?” It wasn’t the question he meant to ask, but in the end, it was the only one that mattered. 

“Jesus Christ, Jim, absolutely not,” Bones said, shocked into stillness, and the authenticity of his reaction pulled Kirk’s eyes back to him. “You still owe me about a hundred more answers, and they had better be honest ones this time, but it’s not an impeachable offense to get in an argument. I wish you hadn’t fled while I was holding some poor kid’s skull together--- he’s fine, by the way, just an idiot--- but I’m glad you went to go talk to the lieutenant. If I had known enough about him, I would have told you to see him myself.” Bones patted his arm as Uhura approached with two steaming mugs. “You’re not suddenly a bad captain because someone lied to you, Jimmy. We’ll sort this out.” 

Uhura handed him the mug as Bones’s words settled into his mind, easing away some of the tightness that had taken root in his chest. She slipped back into her chair and wrapped both hands around her mug, breathing in the rich, warm smell. 

“Thank you,” Kirk said, sipping from his own mug. She flapped her hand at him in acknowledgement, and even that was friendly. He cast about for a safe topic of conversation before giving up on that idea. “So,” he said, trying to sound casual. “How’s Spock?” 

Uhura and Bones traded a glance that was far too immediate and synchronized to be insignificant. “He’s fine,” she said. “I haven’t seen him since yesterday lunch, though. He was working on some research project of his all night in the laboratories.” Kirk felt a slight thrill of vindication that he had guessed correctly where Spock would be, but he squashed it. 

“He’s… fine?” 

“Yes, captain,” Uhura said, in a tone that she might have adopted to explain something to a child. “He is fine. But you’re going to have to talk to him yourself if you want any more detail than that.” If Bones wasn’t angry, and Spock was fine, and Uhura was on speaking terms with Kirk, maybe, just maybe, there was a way that he could salvage his life on his ship. If he could figure out how to apologize for how he had behaved while still maintaining the boundary that he had placed between himself and Spock, maybe things could go back to normal.

Bones pushed his tray in front of Kirk as he took another sip of coffee. “Toast?” 

Grateful beyond measure for the both of them, Kirk snagged a piece. It was slightly burnt, and Bones always put an amount of jam on it that should have been illegal. It was delicious.

Kirk noticed three strange things when he stepped onto the bridge with Uhura, four minutes before the start of alpha. The first was that Scotty stood on the bridge, chatting with Sulu, when his typical work schedule indicated that he should have been down in Engineering. The second was that the science station was empty, even though Spock usually arrived six to ten minutes before the start of his shift. 

The third was that Starbase 27 loomed enormous in the viewscreen ahead of them, despite the fact that they weren’t scheduled to have been anywhere near it for another sixteen hours. Kirk blinked vigorously at the improbable sight, and then glanced to Scotty. Scotty beamed at him. 

“Morning, captain,” Scotty said, and those two words were so gleeful that Kirk half-expected steam to start whistling out from underneath his thatch of dark hair. There were a few other engineers leaning against the security station behind him, chatting amongst themselves, who also should have been down in the engine rooms rather than crowding his bridge. “Where’s your better half?” 

Kirk floundered. “In the laboratories,” he said faintly. “He was working on some research project.” 

“Isn’t he always,” Scotty said. “Well, we should wait for him to arrive.”

“Wait for? Scotty, what’s going on? How did we even get here?” Kirk gestured to the starbase in front of him, the one that should have been lightyears away from their current position. Behind him, the turbolift door slid open and Spock appeared, somber and handsome, as the ship’s clock ticked over to 0800 precisely. He tucked multiple padds into the pockets of his pants as he went straight to his station, long legs eating up the distance in three steps. 

“Mr. Spock! Just the man I wanted to see!” Scotty grinned at Spock, who straightened slowly and looked at Scotty with a completely blank face. For once half-second his eyes flicked to Kirk, as if to gauge Kirk’s thoughts on the matter, but then his gaze returned to Scotty before Kirk could react. 

“Good morning, Mr. Scott,” Spock said, and his voice was gritty in the way that Kirk knew meant he hadn’t slept at all. 

“As I believe you can all tell, we have arrived at Starbase 27 a wee bit ahead of schedule,” Scotty said, clasping his hands excitedly in front of himself. He glanced at Spock again, who gave him an indulgent head tilt. “Just a wee bit. Nothing too wild. And any and all unregulated adaptations made to any and all engines have been reverted. So don’t ye worry. But, captain, commander…” Scotty looked over at the other engineers, who grinned. “Behold: yer wedding gift from the engineering department.” 

Kirk narrowed his eyes, parsing through exactly what Scotty was saying and not saying. “What did you do to the engines?” 

“Aye, never mind about that, sir,” Scotty said cheerfully. “But Janice helped us all arrange it, shift-wise. So here’s our gift to you.” 

“A starbase?” 

“As much of a honeymoon as we could provide,” Scotty said, and the engineers behind him bumped fists. “Before we pick up the brass and get real orders again. Time for you and Mr. Spock to be off-ship together.” Uhura covered her smile with one hand as Kirk’s heart sank. It was an ingenious feat of engineering, impossibly thoughtful, unbearably kind. He couldn’t possibly accept. There was no way that Spock would be willing to spend twelve hours with him on a honeymoon after yesterday, after skipping their morning routine.

“Scotty…” Kirk breathed, mentally digging for a way to let Spock out of it. But Spock’s eyes flashed to him again, and then Spock was speaking over him. 

“This is a thoughtful and considerate gift, Mr. Scott,” Spock said. “We are grateful for the effort you and your engineers exerted to do so. But,” and Kirk closed his eyes. There was the but. They were going to get divorced right here on the bridge and then Spock would leave. 

“I recommend that in the future you simply do not mention any adaptations.” Kirk opened his eyes, and Scotty beamed at Spock, who favored him with a teasing eyebrow. 

“Duly noted, Mr. Spock,” Scotty agreed. “Mr. Kyle is waiting in the transporter room for you, at your convenience.” 

“Thank you, Mr. Scott,” Spock said, and finally turned to face Kirk. When his eyes met his, they were unreadable. But he said, “After you, captain.” 

“You have the conn, Scotty,” Kirk said, and with all the conviction he could muster: “Thank you.” 

“Our pleasure, captain,” Scotty said, and he took Kirk’s spot in the chair as Kirk walked on numb legs back to the turbolift. Spock walked a half step behind him, and turned to face the door as it closed between them and the bridge. Kirk’s eyes snagged on the proud set of his shoulders, the hard line of his jaw and the slight discoloration under his eyes that evidenced his lack of sleep. He needed to apologize. He wanted to take Spock’s hands in his again and let Spock do the awful work of sorting through his conflicting and contradictory desires. Maybe Spock could figure out the most logical path forward for them. Instead he said nothing.

Spock stopped the lift halfway to the transporter deck, and Kirk stiffened. The sudden silence made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Without turning to meet Kirk’s eyes, his gaze still steadily ahead, Spock asked, “Do you wish for the dissolution of our marriage, captain?” 

Kirk’s stomach dropped, and he snapped his eyes away. Of course he didn’t. If he lost Spock to another position after all of this, he would resign his commission and go back to Iowa to build ships instead. But he said, “I’ll do whatever you want, Spock.” 

“That is not an answer to the question that I posed,” Spock said. Kirk turned at Spock’s firm tone. Spock’s eyes were locked on him, his head cocked slightly, and his cold anger from yesterday had been replaced with a probing intensity. “I asked what you wanted.” 

He could lie to Spock again. He could tell him that he wanted a divorce, and free them both from the path that he had set them on. He would lose his best friend and grieve for the rest of his life, but he could force himself to say the words. But he thought of Bones’s shock-slackened face at Kirk’s admission, and Uhura’s kindness this morning even though he had been cruel to the man they both cared for, and he thought of Kevin Riley’s silent suffering at the recommendation of the woman who had shaped him. 

“No,” he said. The word was out of him before he could convince himself that it was wrong. It was reckless, maybe irresponsible, but it was what he wanted. “I don’t.”

Spock’s shoulders loosened the slightest amount, and he restarted the lift. When he looked back at Kirk at the corner of his eye, there was almost a smile in the tilt of his head. 

“Good,” he said. Kirk gaped at him, but he fixed his eyes forward again. Before he could pose any of his follow-up questions, which mainly consisted of ‘what the hell?,’ the turbolift deposited them in the empty hallway that led to the transporter. Spock stepped out, but Kirk hesitated. He at least owed Spock one more graceful exit from what was sure to be an unpleasant and awkward day.

“Spock…” 

Spock swung around immediately, hands clasped behind his back. “Yes, captain?”

“We don’t have to do this,” Kirk said. 

“Clarify.” 

“You don’t even like shore leave,” Kirk said. “You could---”

“But you do,” Spock said evenly. Kirk opened his mouth, but Spock continued over him, “Your stress levels have been unacceptably high for the past eight days. Your efficiency is decreased by 10.2%, your general morale lowered by more, and I do not foresee a better opportunity for you to relieve this stress before we spend the next two weeks with the admirals onboard, which, historically, has not been what you would describe as a ‘pleasant’ experience.” 

Kirk spluttered. “My stress levels are fine, Spock---” 

“They are not,” Spock said calmly. “And I understand that human beings consider it rude to reject a gift, especially when such effort was exerted to provide it. Therefore, we are going to the starbase.” Spock turned and started walking again, and Kirk strode after him to catch up. Before Kirk could drag him around by the elbow and force Spock to explain himself, even though he didn’t have a single leg to stand on when it came to demanding explanations for anything, Spock reached the door to the transporter and it opened before him. Engineer Kyle was already at the command board, grinning at them. 

“Mazel tov, sirs,” he said, and Spock inclined his head. Kirk smiled at him as best he could and followed Spock onto the transporter pad.

“Thank you, Mr. Kyle,” Kirk said. “Energize, please.” 

They arrived in the busy transport bay of an enormous, arched hall that seemed to stretch for miles in either direction. They moved rapidly off the pad as other groups around them materialized or vanished, and Spock hovered by Kirk’s shoulder as Kirk blindly made his way out of the thronging crowd and to a quiet space along the wall of the space. Above them were hovering lights of a thousand colors, combining to create something similar to natural light, and along the walls of the throughway were signs for attractions, events, sales, and locations to visit. Storefronts peppered the hall, and more species than Kirk had ever seen before in one place mingled and shopped and ate and talked. It was beautifully boisterous, and for a moment he let the noise of the crowd wash over him.

“Captain, I researched the attractions on this base before our arrival, and had intended to visit a museum of some interest if given the opportunity. I believe you would enjoy it, if you cared to accompany me.” Spock stood with his hands behind his back, peering around at the sights with his permanent scientific curiosity. 

Kirk frowned. First Bones, then Uhura, and now Spock. Where were the consequences of his outbursts from the day before? He had lost control of himself, and there were supposed to be consequences for it. Kirk turned to Spock. He should let it go, accept the second chance he’d been given, but he couldn’t help himself. Spock looked as he always did, but Kirk was the one who had been changed. Facets of his identity, the rules that he lived by, had gone unchallenged for years and overnight someone had pulled the keystone out. The arch threatened to crumble.

“Spock, what is going on?” 

“We are on a starbase---” 

“No,” Kirk said, swiping his hand through the air as if to erase what might have been Spock’s wry humor. “I don’t understand. Yesterday, I--- I was unkind to you, and I upset you, don’t pretend that I didn’t, and now we’re on a starbase and you’re talking about my general morale and asking if I want to go to a museum with you?”

Spock watched a gaggle of young Andorians in school uniforms run down the tiled pathway towards the other end of the causeway before he said quietly, “I cannot deny that I had hoped, captain, that your trust in me would be sufficient to allow me to provide assistance or support when you were distressed.”

“It’s not about trust,” Kirk started, but Spock cut him off.

“It is. And I apologize for touching you after you revoked your permission to do so, but I was concerned for you. I wished to help you. However,, captain, it would be illogical for me to refuse to consider your needs now solely because of that situation. My duties to you are quite clear.” 

To cover the rising tightness in his throat, Kirk said, “I’m fairly certain that the first officer handbook doesn’t say that you have to be nice after your captain is an asshole to you.” 

“It does not,” Spock agreed. “But as you confirmed for me earlier, ‘for better and for worse’ still applies.” Kirk stared at him, dumbfounded, as Spock watched groups of people walk by. “So yes,” he continued. “I did ask if you would like to visit the museum with me.” He turned back to Kirk with one eyebrow raised. 

Spock did not reach out to touch him, but the warm brown of his eyes, his unwavering eye contact, the familiar set of his face, had the same comforting effect as the way he had passed his hand up and down Kirk’s back. A weight fell away from Kirk’s shoulders. He had been so convinced after yesterday that he would have to work for months to earn Spock’s forgiveness, and he had been willing to do it. He had thought that he had lost Bones’s and Spock’s trust on the same day, and lost Uhura’s respect as a casualty, and instead his friends had shown him such easy grace that he felt ashamed for having doubted them. The permission that they offered to him to be imperfect blindsided him. 

“I do trust you,” Kirk said. “And I’m sorry. For how I treated you yesterday.” 

“I am aware,” Spock said. “And I accept your apology. But I do hope that someday you will trust me with whatever this may be as well.” 

Kirk wanted to tell him that it wasn’t about him at all, that he didn’t doubt Spock’s trust but his own worth. But instead, as he felt the stirrings of his first genuine smile in forty-eight hours, he said, “So what’s this museum?” Spock kept his hands clasped behind his back, but walking side-by-side with him down the causeway, alone with him in the hustling crowd, made Kirk feel as though something integral inside himself had been repaired. 

☆☆☆

“Holy shit,” Kirk breathed. Spock had been right. This was a museum of some interest. As the front-line diplomats of the Federation to new cultures and civilizations, the vast majority of the Enterprise crew’s time was spent either meeting the primary sentient species on a planet or assessing its flora and fauna as a threat. He so rarely got to appreciate the infinite diversity of organic life for what it was. But this museum was a masterclass in appreciation. 

It was built into four huge levels of the base, sprawling for at least a mile on each deck, with an intricate system of stairs, elevators, and escalators placed strategically for visitors to the starbase to follow the themes of evolution that most interested them. He couldn’t fathom the effort that it must have taken to assemble a display of this magnitude: each floor was dedicated to one of the four nearest solar systems, with a series of rooms devoted to each planet in the system, split within those rooms by form or function. A veritable army must have been necessary to create the casts of the skeletons and fossils and plant life, then paint and construct and model them among murals and dioramas that depicted what the organisms may have looked like in context. The lighting on each floor and in each room was based on the solar system’s primary star, and the planet’s unique characterisitics. One room was a cheery golden light not unlike Earth’s, whereas another was hued in pinks and purples because of the makeup of the atmosphere. Kirk could have happily moved into the museum, set up a tent in one of the summery plains dioramas, and never left. 

In front of him was a creature unlike anything he had ever seen. The closest Earth analogue would have been the giant ground sloths of the Pliocene era, but only if it had been amphibian and unconstrained by Earth’s relatively heavy gravity. A cross-section of its bone had been replicated for children to touch, mounted on the wall, and Kirk couldn’t stop himself from running his fingers in wonder against the curious texture. It was pocked with holes all the way through, which made it easier for these enormous and muscular creatures to swim through the highly salty waters of their indigenous oceans. The top of Kirk’s head only came up to the complicated hip joint of the model. 

“Indeed. I would be interested to see the method by which it swims,” Spock said, peering at the hip. “The range of motion of its legs must be immense.” Spock stood comfortably next to Kirk: not pressed against his shoulder, as he might have been before yesterday, but only a few inches separated them. His hands were clasped loosely behind his back, and for all that Spock had said about Kirk requiring shore leave, Kirk thought that unstructured time wandering through a museum might have been good for Spock as well. They walked slowly between the dioramas. Rather than following one of the suggested paths, they had, without discussing it, decided to move through the museum linearly in order to see every exhibit. They had the time, after all. To Kirk’s delight, he learned immediately that Spock was the type to read every single informative panel before progressing to the next room. Kirk was the same way, when he was unrushed, but Sam had never had the patience to move that slowly through museums when they were children. They passed the hours of the morning meandering slowly through the rooms of the first two floors. They learned about the entirely aquatic planet of Shindon III, where amphibious peoples lived in sprawling coral cities in places where the currents carried warm water. The oceanic sloth creature was from this world, and was called the mother of the seas because of its role as the primary underwater pollinator. They witnessed a demonstration on the mechanics of how the enormous, bear-sized otters of Shindon V used acid to hunt smaller creatures, and watched a documentary on the symbiotic relationship between the nomadic populations of Detra IV and the nimble, camel-like quadrupeds that they rode across the steppes of their mountainous planet. 

The only time that Spock was more than a few feet away from Kirk was, in another aquatic room on the second floor, Kirk moved on after reading the panels and only realized after a few moments that Spock had not followed. He doubled back through the winding sandy maze of the room until he rounded a corner and halted. Spock stood still, bathed in the blue-green light of the display panel, hands hanging open by his sides as he stared, entranced, at one of the creatures. It was called a crinoid, and some adventurous spirit had swum deep into the depths of the ocean on Detra III with a camera to film its movement. The invertebrate was made entirely of long, feather-like arms that it used to move itself with rhythmic flicking motions, and its feathers undulated in the currents of the green waters around it. For a moment Kirk watched Spock watch the crinoid. Deep beneath the veneer of professionalism, he thought that this might have been what had driven Spock to accept the five-year mission posting: this joyous curiosity, and his boundless love of the unknown. Kirk’s heart twinged to see it, and displayed so openly. 

After another minute, Spock’s shoulders jerked, as if he had given himself an allotment for wonder and his time was now up, and he turned to leave. As he turned, his eyes alighted on Kirk, who was still leaning against the wall. Kirk smiled at him genuinely, fondly; he couldn’t help himself. 

“I know you said no pets, but what about this one?” 

Spock’s eyes were soft as he came to join Kirk again, hands returning to behind his back. “I do not believe we have the capacity to responsibly house a creature such as this,” he demurred, but he looked back over his shoulder once more as they continued on. “But I admit that I found its form fascinating.” 

At the end of the second floor was a food court, and Kirk discovered that he was ravenous. There were different kiosks dedicated to the culinary traditions of the nearby systems, and he and Spock agreed to split off to find their lunches and reconvene at a table near the entrance. Unfamiliar with this region of the galaxy and with no strong preferences arising, he picked one with less of a line and headed towards it. 

“Good afternoon,” said a tall, handsome person in accented Standard. They had a shiny, waxy coating to their purplish skin, enormous brown-black eyes, and a long, intricately beaded ponytail. “What will you have?”

“I’ve no idea,” Kirk said cheerily, and scanned the menu behind them. He didn’t recognize most of the titles, but the images alongside the listings all looked wonderful, and the smell wafting from behind the counter was enticing. “Whatever you recommend for lunch, I suppose.” He glanced down at the counter before him. Among the bottled drinks were scattered trinkets and souvenirs, marked with the logo of the museum. He spied a box with a feather on the front and picked it up. Within the box was a clever little perpetual motion machine, a tiny moving simulacrum of the crinoid that had so ensnared Spock’s attention. “Whatever you recommend and this, then,” Kirk amended, and handed over his credit chip. He tucked the little box into his pocket, took the tray of something that looked and smelled delicious from the cashier, and turned to find Spock. 

Despite what Spock had said earlier, Kirk was still shocked to sit across from Spock and listen to him muse about the evolutionary implications of different organisms that they’d seen. He had expected for Spock to display a residual distaste for him, at the very least. But it seemed that Spock had genuinely accepted his apology; he met Kirk’s eyes without reserve, and, so subtly that at first Kirk didn’t realize he was doing it, rhetorically tugged at Kirk until his own scientific interest emerged. 

“Would you like to see the next two floors, captain?” Spock asked eventually, when their plates were empty. 

“Definitely,” Kirk said, and pushed his chair back to stand up. Before he could reach for his tray, however, Spock had snagged it, stacked his own on top of it, and left the table to return them to the disposal area. As he watched Spock wend through the tables, he was reminded of the day, one week previously, when Spock had insisted on carrying his tray through the mess for him. But there was no audience here, no one to convince of his intentions. 

No one except for Kirk. Kirk’s brain stuttered to a halt as he stared at Spock, methodically unloading both of their trays into the appropriate recycling receptacles. There was no way. Spock could not possibly still carry any interest in him after what he had done yesterday. He had shut down Spock’s confession, told Spock that he didn’t want to be touched by him, had forcibly erected a boundary between them and brooked no discussion. 

But, the hopeful little voice in his head whispered as it roared back to life, Spock had known that Kirk was lying. 

Spock returned from the tray disposal, and Kirk followed him onward to the next level of the museum. Though the flora around him was just as intriguing as on the first two floors, Kirk found his attention more drawn to the man beside him. Spock continued to point out different contradictions, facts he found interesting, pausing to watch the movement of different creatures, but Kirk watched Spock instead. How much had it cost Spock to pick his moment to approach him, to confess that he had enjoyed their charade for the crew? How much had it cost Spock to admit that he felt something for Kirk?

And yet, despite Kirk’s dishonesty and dismissal, he had been forgiven. Spock was here, talking quietly to him about hunting patterns, the same steady presence by his side that he had been for years. Even while Spock respected the boundary that Kirk had set and did not cross the line between them, he orbited around Kirk’s space like a planet around a star. He moved in response to Kirk’s movement, a complicated waltz that Kirk had never before been aware of. They progressed through the rest of the museum, taking the better part of four hours to do so, and they emerged at last from the last purple-black room of the museum into the warm early-evening sunlight of the central causeway. Blinking at the sudden shift, Kirk felt as if they had returned from a journey through a different time before suddenly, shockingly, returning to the present. Had the spell of the museum been broken, and Spock would remember that he should have shunned him? But Spock turned to him, a calm, settled grace in the curve of his spine, and said, “What did you think, captain?” 

“I loved it,” Kirk said, and was surprised by the force of his own response. “It was wonderful. What did you think?” 

“I found it fascinating,” Spock said. He gently steered himself and Kirk away from the exit so as to allow the other patrons to leave. “I find myself still thinking about the crinoids. I have never seen a creature such as they. If the images of them were the only exhibit in the museum, it still would have been worth the visit.” 

Kirk pulled the simulacrum from his pocket. “I got this for you,” he said, offering it to Spock. He took the little box from him and gently pulled the top flap open to reveal the machine inside. For a moment, Spock silently watched the gentle undulation of the feathers within, and Kirk watched him. When Spock finally looked back up at him, the muted delight on his face floored Kirk.

“It is beautiful,” Spock said. “I thank you.” He looked at Kirk like there was no greater gift in the universe that he could have been given than this little museum trinket; like Kirk had bestowed upon him jewels and riches beyond measure. 

“You’re welcome,” Kirk said, and looked back down the causeway, away from the weight of Spock’s warm gaze. “Dinner?” 

They wandered down the tiled pathway as the lights above them slowly shifted colors from a bright day through a cozy twilight, and the ease of the day combined with the bustle of the crowds lulled Kirk into a contented stupor. 

“Do you have a preference for anything, captain?” Spock asked, and Kirk was about to shake his head when he was hit with a wave of nostalgia so powerful that he stopped in his tracks. The smell of something deeply Iowa-like was wafting down the causeway, and it dragged him forward. 

“Whatever that is,” he breathed. He followed his nose down the way, Spock amused beside him, until he pulled up in front of a restaurant emblazoned with a neon sign: “The Best of the Midwest.” Within was a checkered linoleum floor, diner-style booths and tables, with a high-top bar in the back and cooks in the little folded paper hats he could have recognized from a mile away. His relationship with what he would call ‘home food’ was complicated for a thousand painful reasons, but what it came down to was this: if it was available, he would eat it. There were multiple buzzing packs of people waiting in front of the restaurant’s opening, and only one or two open tables inside. 

“This is where you would like to eat?” Spock’s voice was by his ear. Kirk almost nodded, but he hesitated. 

“I don’t want to wait, it’ll be hours. We can go somewhere else.” Kirk turned and almost walked directly into Spock, who had not moved. Kirk found himself with his nose nearly against Spock’s neck, and he could feel the warmth of Spock’s body as Spock looked down at him. 

“One moment, please, captain,” Spock said, and stepped around him to approach the hostess stand. Kirk turned to watch him go, and saw Spock say something to the hostess, leaning over the stand to make himself heard. She was a young human woman, no more than twenty-two, and she popped a piece of bubblegum even as she ran her finger down the paper pad in front of her. To Kirk’s surprise, she nodded and shot Spock a megawatt smile before snagging two menus from the stand and stepping out from behind it. Spock turned to meet his eyes as the hostess waited for them, and Kirk came to meet them as she led them to one of the two empty tables.

“Table for two, Mark will be taking care of you, thank you for visiting the Best of the Midwest,” she chirped, and deposited their menus on the table before heading back to her stand. Spock sat in the chair closest to the entrance and pulled one of the menus towards himself as Kirk dropped into the other chair. He put his hand flat on the menu Spock lifted, forcing it back down to the table. 

“What the hell was that, Spock?” Even as he said it, he couldn’t stop the disbelieving smile from spreading across his face, and Spock met his eyes with a deeply satisfied look. 

“A reservation is an Earth custom where one contacts a restaurant---” 

“Stop that,” Kirk said, and glanced around the table to find something that would be appropriate to throw at him. His search was fruitless. “How did you know?” 

“How did I know what, Jim?” Spock unrolled the napkin that had been set at his place and draped it over his lap as he crossed his legs under the table. They were on a first-name basis again? It was a good thing Kirk was not a betting man, because he would have lost a significant number of credits on how he thought this day would have gone. 

“All of it! This restaurant, the reservation, being on the starbase, the museum…” 

“I am sure you are intimately familiar with the sound of the ship at warp,” Spock said. 

Kirk blinked. “Sure. Don’t change the subject, though. How---” 

“I am as well, and I was awake this morning when I heard the pitch of the ship’s engines change,” Spock said. “It increased, implying that we were moving faster than we had previously. Navigation did not indicate that we were going anywhere other than our originally plotted destination. Lieutenant Commander Scott is a friend and an extraordinary engineer, if somewhat irresponsible. From these facts I surmised what might occur, and took the appropriate steps to prepare.” He raised his menu, but Kirk pressed it down again.

“So you knew we’d have leave time. But this restaurant?” 

“You have said before that when North American food, and specifically the food from your home region, is available on shore leave, you prioritize it. When I saw that this restaurant was an option and that it was popular, I only ensured that it would be available to you if you desired it.” Spock lifted his menu again, and this time Kirk retracted his hand to allow him to study the options. 

Kirk stared across the table at the Vulcan sitting across from him. His eyes traced the elegant points of his ears, the sharp angles of his eyebrows, the surprisingly soft line of his mouth. Even after Kirk had rejected his advances and lost his composure entirely, Spock had taken the time from his research project to ensure that Kirk would have what he wanted. Spock flipped the menu over. 

Kirk asked, “Why?” 

Spock did not pretend to misunderstand. He said, “‘For better and for worse’ did not come with caveats.” He glanced up at Kirk, chocolate brown eyes meeting his, and his expression remained self-assured and steady even when Kirk could not respond. 

Mark, a human being either from the Midwest or with a stellar ear for the accent, came to take their order before swishing off again. Kirk ordered comfort food in the form of a pork tenderloin; Spock ordered the only vegetarian option, which was macaroni and cheese. Their conversation ranged from Spock’s mistrust of the dubiously named ‘cheese product’ to their favorite organisms from the museum, when Spock pulled his crinoid from his pocket again to watch its movement fondly for a moment, and then to reminiscing about various missions.

“It might have been scientifically valuable to have retained some of the pods from Omicron Ceti III to study their healing capabilities,” Spock said at one point, and Kirk scoffed. 

“And risk losing the capabilities of the crew somewhere millions of lightyears away from help? Sounds like a nightmare, if you ask me.” 

Over their meals, Kirk admitted that he still had not told his parents that they were married, and Spock offered that, even after the blood transfusion debacle en route to Babel, his relationship with his father remained strained. As Mark cleared their plates away when they were done and subtly deposited a dessert menu between them, Kirk said, “Would you have sought out Vulcan food if you were on your own?” 

Spock threaded his fingers together, steepling them on the table. “I would not have,” he said. 

“Why?” 

“I do not feel the same connection now that I might have before,” he said. “I have access to the food, my instruments, on the ship. But after the kal-if-fee I feel no strong bond to the homeworld.” He met Kirk’s eyes. “There is no one to draw me there.” Spock’s long fingers drew delicate patterns over the table before he snagged the dessert menu and peered at it disinterestedly. 

“You asked earlier about my behavior towards you today, even after yesterday’s events,” Spock said suddenly, and Kirk’s attention, which had been drifting towards the ideas of home and sleep, snapped to him. “I told you a partial truth earlier. It is true that it would be illogical for me to ignore your needs after conflict. However, you were correct in assessing that your words perturbed me in the moment.” 

Kirk closed his eyes in a relieved sort of dread. Now, would the ramifications finally arrive? 

“I found myself to be unsettled by the idea that you would lie to me, especially when you were distressed, and I sought a period of meditation to recenter myself. You, typically, are an honest man. But in meditation I was able to understand exactly what I found so unsettling about our exchange.” There was a light knock on the table near Kirk’s hand where it rested, and he opened his eyes as Spock’s arm retracted back to his side. 

Once he had Kirk’s eyes on him, Spock said evenly, “You lie to me when you believe that it protects my safety or well-being, or that of the crew, even at the expense of your own.” 

Spock’s eyes were molten now, and scorched him. Kirk opened his mouth to argue, but Spock’s carefully guided and uncharacteristic trip down memory lane was suddenly cast in a new light. Though not intentionally, he had allowed Spock to think that he had killed him in order to end his pon farr and depart Vulcan alive. He had lied to Spock to break through the control of the spores on Omicron Ceti III, even though he had put himself at the mercy of Spock’s unbridled strength to do it. And he had lied to Spock on the journey to Babel to give him the peace of mind necessary to relinquish command and save his father, despite the still-gaping stab wound in his chest. Kirk stared at Spock as the restaurant spun around him: Spock knew. Spock knew him. Spock knew that he was hiding something, and still orchestrated a day for them to spend together with his own brand of logical, unflinching kindness, and now sat across from him and offered him safe passage through the consequences of his own actions. 

“What I have not yet deduced, regarding yesterday,” Spock said, as he laid the menu down and slid it across the table to Kirk, “is what, precisely, you believe that you are protecting me from.” He folded his hands in his lap and looked at Kirk, shoulders square, eyes alight. Checkmate, game to Spock. “Would you like dessert?” 

☆☆☆

“Welcome back, gentleman,” Scotty said as they materialized together in a shower of golden light onto the familiar transporter pad of the Enterprise. “How was your day?”

“Satisfactory,” Spock said.

“Great,” Kirk said.

“Sounds about right,” Scotty said, and, after shutting down the command console, followed them out of the room. “Did ye get to see the gladiator arenas?” 

Kirk laughed as Spock pulled his crinoid out. “We spent the majority of the day in the natural history museum complex,” he said, and showed the movement of the little creature to Scotty. Scotty took one glance at the undulating sea creature and shuddered. 

“Beautiful,” he said unconvincingly. “Best left in the ocean, methinks.” 

“Perhaps,” Spock said. The three of them departed for the officers’ quarters, Scotty informing them of everything they had missed on their day away. They had missed very little, and April and Pike were still scheduled to arrive late the next morning. 

“Thank you again, Scotty,” Kirk said, as they arrived at the door that used to be Spock’s. “It was a great day.” Spock inclined his head to the engineer. 

“T’was my pleasure, gentlemen,” Scotty said. “Neither of ye take enough leave as it is, and after this we’ll be out in the middle o’ nowhere for ages. I’m glad we could give ye more time to celebrate properly.” 

“Thank you, Lieutenant. This pleasure would be entirely linked to a gift well-given and not any unregulated engine upgrades, would it?” Spock asked. Scotty grinned at him, wolf-like, before unlocking the door and vanishing into his room, which now looked more like half of a warp core than a bedroom. The door slid shut behind him, and Kirk and Spock were left alone in the hallway. Without his input, Kirk’s feet took him to his own door, and Spock walked alongside him in companionable silence. 

At the door, Spock halted. “Did you enjoy yourself, captain?” 

“Yes,” Kirk said immediately. Spock’s eyes did not meet his, exactly; they were fixed on a point beyond his left ear. “God, yes. I…” He paused as he read Spock’s physicality: his shoulders were a tight, straight line, and his arms had vanished entirely behind his back with the force of his grip on one of his wrists. He still hadn’t made eye contact. 

“It was perfect,” he said softly. “You were right. I needed time off the ship, and it was… it was wonderful. Thank you for picking the museum, and making the reservation, and for not letting me say no this morning.” 

At his words, the tension in Spock’s posture released, and when he met Kirk’s eyes he pressed his lips together in the imperceptible motion that was almost a smile. “I am glad to be of assistance,” he said. “I will leave you to your rest.” 

“Where are you going?” 

“I must review today’s work and updates from the ongoing experiments,” Spock said, and his gaze dropped away from Kirk’s face. Without the warmth of his eyes on him, Kirk suddenly felt cold. “I did not anticipate missing an entire shift before the admirals’ arrival and do not wish to be unprepared tomorrow.” 

“Right,” Kirk said. “Very logical, Mr. Spock.” 

“Thank you, captain,” Spock said. “Good night.” With one more lightning-fast glance at Kirk, expression unreadable, he nodded firmly once and turned to leave.

Kirk turned to his door to unlock it. Then he turned instead to watch Spock go. Time seemed to slow as Spock’s footsteps echoed in the empty hallway, and each step that took Spock away from him brought forth another memory. Spock telling him that he didn’t want to leave. Spock gently teasing him in the mess. Spock catching his head in the gymnasium. Spock kissing him against the bookshelf, in front of the crew, running his hand along Kirk’s spine, taking him to the museum, making a reservation in the quiet hours before alpha shift to make sure that Kirk had what he wanted. He thought of Spock taking his tray at lunch, his delight in his little crinoid, his satisfaction at Kirk’s pleasure in the restaurant. A small seed of fear gripped him as he inhaled: what if he was wrong? But in his head, Spock’s sure, steady voice said, “‘For better and for worse’ did not come with caveats.”

Kirk called, “Hey, Spock!” Spock halted and spun. Their eyes met across the distance between them. Sharp-edged hope cut through him. “Do you have time to help me with something?” 

At this distance he didn’t hear Spock’s response, but his mouth formed a shape that looked like “always.” He finally turned to open his door, and by the time it swished open Spock had returned to his side. 

“What do you need, Jim?” 

They stepped inside their quarters, and Kirk waited until the door slid shut behind them. Then he said, “I need your help breaking into the Starfleet personnel directory.” 

Spock inhaled through his nose, eyebrows drawing together. “It is public access to officers, is it not?” It was a sensible question, but behind the cool facade Kirk could see the gears of interest beginning to turn.

“Most of it is. But someone lied to me. And I intend to find out why.” Kirk dropped into his office chair and booted up the console as he explained what he had done the night before. When he had brought Spock up to speed and pulled up Elise’s profile, he swapped spots with Spock, allowing Spock to have the chair and leaning over his shoulder to watch what he did. 

“And who is this person?” 

“She, ah…” Kirk started, and then blanked. Where could he even start? He didn’t want to open with, “Well, she was my Starfleet-assigned therapist at school, because I needed one.” He didn’t want to start with Tarsus. The idea of it made him nauseated. After four seconds of him choking on air, Spock said, “It is fine, Jim. You do not have to tell me.” His fingers flew nimbly over the keyboard. Then, with a slightly smug tone, he said, “I will find out who she is soon enough.” 

Kirk half-smiled at that and rapped his knuckles against the back of the chair. “I have no doubt of that.” 

After three frustrated hours, Spock was coldly radiating his distaste for Elise, the directory, and every Starfleet computer programmer who had ever lived, and Kirk was half-asleep in his uniform from that day on top of his covers, still wearing his boots.

“You ought to prepare for rest, captain,” Spock said, peering intently at the back-end code of the directory. 

“I’m not the one who stayed up all night,” Kirk said, but he dragged himself into the bathroom, changed into pajamas, and prepared for bed. He had just reentered the room, Spock still hunched over the console, when their padds dinged simultaneously. 

“I’ve got it,” Kirk said, as Spock slowly pulled his eyes away from his puzzle to regard his padd with disdain. “I’ll let you know if it’s important.” He reclaimed his padd from where it sat on his bedside table and sat down, back against his headboard and his feet crossed in front of him. He tapped open the message.

SUBJECT: RE: Regulation Revision, 6245-B: Field Officer Recommendation

To: schntgaispock@enterprise

CC: jamestkirk@enterprise

From: kathleenlee@headquarters

Commander Spock,  

Greetings from afar! Thank you for this most recent contribution. Your revision is, as usual, meticulously researched and logically argued. I’ve submitted it to the upcoming regulatory board meeting as an agenda item and will keep you apprised of the outcome, though I think we can take a pretty good guess at what that will be. 

I noticed that your CO got dropped off the original message, so I’ve CC’d him here. 

Please let me know if I can be of any other assistance at this time. 

Best, 

Lt. Cmdr. Lee 

P.S. Congrats :) 

Spock frequently submitted regulation revisions; he might have been the only person in all of Starfleet to keep the regulatory board in meetings. Of course he was on smiley-face level with the regulations administrator. Spock’s recommendations were usually about research protocols, but the regulation number snagged Kirk’s attention. 6245 referred to lifesaving missions. He scrolled down to view Spock’s original message. 

SUBJECT: Regulation Revision, 6245-B: Field Officer Recommendation

To: kathleenlee@headquarters

From: schntgaispock@enterprise

Lieutenant Commander Lee, 

Greetings. I have attached a regulation revision submission pertaining to food storage on deep space exploratory missions. Please see the attached report for my findings and conclusions.

LLAP, 

STS

The message had been sent at 0759 that morning, and the attachment was two hundred pages long. Was this the research project that Spock had been so absorbed in? He had been working on a regulation improvement the day that he moved into Kirk’s quarters, but hadn’t mentioned it otherwise. Kirk tapped the attachment open. He scrolled past all of the standard forms--- Spock’s name, rank, the regulation he was updating, and a thousand other useless pieces of data that Starfleet collected and never used, to the meat of the report. 

Starfleet is, in many respects, an observatory organization. Though it performs admirably as the diplomatic arm of the Federation when engaging new cultures and civilizations, the vast majority of Starfleet man-hours are spent on scientific research in space, far from the turbulence of on-world life.

However, when called to do so, Starfleet ships can and do act as the first responders to crises. There are not many important similarities between the populations that comprise the Federation, but one universal constant is the need for sustenance. Exploratory vessels are frequently the first ones to receive distress signals from far-lying locales, there are infrequent opportunities to restock solid supplies in deep space, and the small scale at which food can be replicated can hinder lifesaving efforts. This report will analyze five previous instances of Starfleet’s reaction to crises before making recommendations for regulatory updates to advance and improve Starfleet’s capacity to respond to acute and life-threatening scenarios. The primary lesson of the case studies presented, and the primary recommendation of the author, is that all California-class ships and newer and all ships commanded one (1) or more AU beyond the current boundaries of Federation space should henceforth increase the volume of solid, unreplicated, immediate-use foodstuffs maintained onboard by 235% from current standards. The mathematical model for this increase is attached to this report as Annex A. 

Kirk pressed one shaking hand to his mouth and continued skimming. Spock had meticulously detailed five lifesaving missions that Starfleet ships had undertaken, outside the normal purview of their work, analyzing common successes and failures before wrapping them into a tidy, logical conclusion of how to save lives. He had listed a planet whose entire sky had been blackened for three years by volcanic eruptions, a generations ship whose soil recycler had broken down, and three agricultural planets that, for one reason or another, had devolved into complete famine: Alexii I, Gradient V, and Tarsus IV. 

He downloaded the report and looked at the metadata. The document had been created two hours after he told Spock why the broken replicators made his heartbeat skyrocket. Kirk turned to stare at Spock, who still bent determinedly over his console, having eschewed the touchpad entirely to type commands directly into the black screen. He looked down at the report in his hands.

“Residual stress,” Kirk had said, when he hedged around genocide by calling it a period of scarcity. He had tried to keep Spock from seeing how it haunted him, and Spock had offered him a hand in comfort and his faith in Kirk’s abilities before moving on, which was far more than Kirk had expected. Kirk had thought that that would be the end of the conversation. But then Spock had forsaken sleep to move the entirety of Starfleet’s behemoth interstellar bureaucracy with the strength of his will alone, so that Kirk might feel more secure. Even after their fight, after Spock had left their quarters, he still spent his entire day on an effort that would make Kirk’s life easier. 

And he had left Kirk off the message. If Kathleen Lee hadn’t looped him back in on her response, Kirk would never have known of the monumental act of service that Spock had done for him. Kirk stared at the back of Spock’s head, the sleek hair that hid his beautiful mind, and it was at that moment that Spock spun, triumphant. 

“Jim, I believe that I---” Spock halted at the expression on Kirk’s face, eyes glancing to his padd and back up. Kirk stared at him, seeing his dear, dear face for the first time again, as something fiery and huge, uncontrollable, unfolded in his chest. Spock had not thought him weak, or unreliable, or untrustworthy. He had accepted Kirk’s fears and needs as fact and shifted the universe around him to accommodate him instead. Kirk had challenged him, lied to him, and pushed him away, and yet Spock had remained steadfastly where he had been for years: by Kirk’s side.

“I have gained access to her service record,” Spock said. “What are you reading?” 

“Your report,” Kirk said hoarsely. “You… did this?” Spock slid the padd from his limp hand and flipped it around to look down on it. 

“Yes,” he said simply. “I did.” 

Kirk asked, “Why?” 

Spock’s eyes, warm and open, met his, and he tilted his head as if to say, “I’ve already told you why.” Kirk’s breath caught in his chest as the wall between his head and his heart crumbled entirely. In sickness and in health, for better and for worse. Spock had proven that he was willing to take Kirk at his worst, as much of it as Kirk had been able to show. But what did better even mean, for someone like him?

His eyes slipped to the console behind Spock. If Elise had not been a real medical professional, then an enormous aspect of his so-called recovery had been a sham. If his recovery had been falsified, strategically manipulated, then there might be a reason for his continued struggle beyond his own weakness.

If he was still hurting so badly because he had been refused help, then maybe that meant that he could still get better. Spock deserved better. 

He made his decision; he reached for Spock. 

Kirk shifted to the end of the bed and closed the space between them. He took the padd out of Spock’s grasp and slid his hand into Spock’s, pressing their palms together. For a second Spock sat, unmoving, staring down at Kirk’s hand in his, and Kirk waited for him, serene in his choice, trusting Spock to respond when he would. 

With the barest hint of a smile at the corners of his eyes, Spock took his hand in both of his own and raised them to press Kirk’s palm flat against his chest. His eyes closed as their fingers threaded together. He felt Spock’s steady heartbeat through his shirt, the warmth of his body. 

“I need to tell you something,” Kirk whispered, and Spock’s eyes opened. 

“You can tell me anything, Jim,” Spock said, and Kirk felt the rumble of his voice through his palm. He opened his mouth to say it, to tell him, and his throat constricted. He felt the panic trickle through his bloodstream, and Spock’s expression turned concerned. Kirk looked down at his lap to the padd sitting in his other hand. 

Spock already knew about what had happened on Tarsus, if he had created this report with Starfleet resources. He just needed Kirk to connect the dots. Kirk bit his lip and rapidly paged through it. He pulled up the correct page, with its clinical TARSUS IV heading, and turned it back around to show Spock. Spock glanced between it and him, eyebrows pulling together. Then he blinked, and his hands tightened over Kirk’s. 

“No,” he said.

“Yes,” Kirk said, and his voice cracked. His stomach heaved with nerves. Spock’s eyes scanned over his face before dropping back to his report. He took it and turned to put it on the desk even as he kept Kirk’s hand pressed to him. 

“You are one of the survivors,” Spock said, and Kirk nodded, clenching his jaw against his sudden nausea. For a moment Spock considered, his thumb rubbing slowly over the back of Kirk’s hand, and Kirk saw the fine muscles in his jaw twitch as he sorted through whatever he was thinking. But for once, the waiting didn’t fuel his anxiety. Though seeing the brutality of Tarsus in print sent spikes of panic through him, and telling him now made him feel sick, the knowledge of Spock’s report and everything it meant to him was the bulkhead between him and his ghosts. He was safe in his quarters, on the Enterprise, and Spock was with him, holding his hand. 

Spock nodded, like he had made some decision, and he stood, dragging Kirk up with him by their connected hands.

“Jim,” Spock said. “May I touch you?” Kirk met his eyes and nodded. Spock slid one hand along his outstretched arm, running it up his shoulder, until he was cupping the back of Kirk’s neck. The other hand he wrapped around Kirk’s, cradling it against his chest, and he stepped forward until they were sharing breath. Then he released Kirk’s hand, wrapped his other arm around Kirk’s waist, and hugged him tightly to him, pressing him to the length of his body. The thumb of one hand smoothed down the short, shorn hair at the back of his neck, and the other arm held Kirk flush against him. He rested his cheek against the side of Kirk’s head and breathed.

Kirk wrapped both arms around Spock’s waist, and he buried his face in the side of his neck, and he let himself be held. He leaned against Spock’s warm solidity and breathed in time with him, until Spock pulled back to look down at his face. 

“Is this what you would protect me from?” 

“Partially,” Kirk said. Spock waited. “And from what came after.” 

“Your nightmare from yesterday morning,” Spock said, and Kirk blinked, bemused, as he remembered that the dream hadn’t even been about Tarsus. It had been about Elise. 

“Yes. No. Adjacent,” he said, and leaned around Spock to look at the screen of his console. The screen was filled with text that he couldn’t read at this distance, but Spock had said that he had found her information. “What did you find?” 

“Are you intentionally changing the subject?” 

“I’m not, honest,” Kirk said. “It’s related.” Spock’s eyes narrowed. 

“How do you know this woman?” 

“What did you find in her profile?” 

Kirk stared him down, and Spock broke first. He reluctantly released his hand from the back of Kirk’s neck, but kept his other hand on his lower back as he turned back to the console. 

“Her entire file is redacted,” he said. “Everything that she did after her first posting is confidential. I have some theories about what her career may mean, but I will need to conduct more research first. I would state, with 97.4% certainty, that she was an officer with Starfleet Information and Intelligence Operations.” 

Kirk’s whole body went cold in a shiver. “Like a spy?” 

“I do not believe so,” Spock said thoughtfully. “More in line with propaganda, or information access and control.” 

“Huh,” Kirk said. His hands had gone numb. “That might be worse, actually.” Spock wrapped a hand around his wrist, but instead of it feeling like a cage, it became an anchor.

“Please sit down,” Spock said, and steered him back to sit on the edge of his bed. He knelt in front of him, hands bracketing him on the bed frame. “You are unwell. I apologize, Jim, for---” 

“No,” Kirk croaked as his throat tightened. “I asked. I need to know.” 

“Who is she to you, Jim?” Every angle of Spock’s body, his entire focus, was attuned to Kirk. When they had first met, Kirk had been unsettled by his inhuman intensity. Now he was comforted by it. Maybe the Spock protocol would apply to every area of his life.

“Starfleet assigned her as my therapist when I got to the Academy,” he said. “I thought she was a psychologist until four days ago.” 

“Four years after you were rescued from Tarsus IV,” Spock said. Kirk nodded. “You were eighteen.” Kirk nodded. Spock bowed his head, staring pensively at Kirk’s knees. Then the material of the bed frame cracked under his hands. He unclenched his hands from the ruined wood and glanced at the splinters reproachfully before flexing them open. 

“My apologies, captain,” Spock said, and one corner of Kirk’s mouth twitched up, despite himself, as he reclaimed one of Spock’s hands. He held it in his lap between both of his. 

“It wasn’t just me,” he said. “I know of another survivor who also had her. He confirmed to me that she used us to keep each other quiet.” 

Spock’s eyebrows pulled together. “The sequence of events on Tarsus IV has been extensively documented. The only unanswered question that I was able to find was---” 

“Kodos,” Kirk said, and his stomach heaved again. When was the last time he had said that name aloud? In his mind, a flash of gray hair, and the wet spatter of blood on dirt. Bile rose in his throat and he pressed the back of his hand to his mouth.

“Indeed,” Spock said, and he watched Kirk with concern. “Do you have any theories as to why information control would be necessary amongst the survivors?”

The answer came to him immediately. It was what had so upset Dr. Johns during his physical recovery, the first topic that Elise had convinced him to keep inside. He saw the fire, and the flash of the gun, and the body. He nodded even as his chest tightened and his stomach flipped inside-out. 

He tried to speak, and his jaw clenched. He tried to speak, and his tongue swelled in his mouth as his brain filled with the buzzing static of an impending meltdown. Be the bulkhead, be the bulkhead, be the bulkhead---

He closed his eyes as the nausea swelled inside him and pressed a hand to his face. 

“Jim?” Spock was very close to him, his voice gentle, and Kirk could feel the warmth of him. He leaned forward, seeking him, and Spock pressed his forehead against his. “Be still,” he said, and Kirk nodded against him, tamping down the urge to vomit or pass out.

Kirk opened his eyes. Spock still knelt in front of him, hands braced on the mattress by his hips, face scant inches from his. “We do not have to continue this discussion at this moment. I will call the doctor if you are ill, and we can broach the subject again when you are better.” His apparent concern warmed Kirk, but if they didn’t keep going now, he was afraid that he wouldn’t have the courage to continue tomorrow.

“I want to tell you,” Kirk said, and for the first time in his life, he meant it. “She--- I need to know why she did this to us. So I can start to fix it. But I--- I can’t. I can’t say it.” Even talking about talking about what he had seen threatened to overwhelm him, and it was only Spock’s hands, coming up to his shoulders, that kept him upright.

“Do you wish to show me?” Kirk looked up in surprise. Spock’s gaze was steady. 

“No, Spock, you don’t want to---”

“I would not have offered if I did not mean it.” 

Kirk swallowed, his throat like sandpaper. “This is going to be the ‘worse’ part of ‘for better and for worse.’” 

“No caveats,” said Spock. “Jim, let me help you.” Kirk paused, his head spinning, and then nodded. Spock stood, stepped away to remove his boots and place them meticulously by the door, and then returned to Kirk. 

“Please lay back,” Spock said. “I believe it will be more comfortable for you.” Kirk scooted himself backwards and lay down, and Spock laid down next to him. He rolled over to face him, Spock lying alongside him. 

“Somehow, when I thought about the first time we might share a bed, this wasn’t how I imagined it happening,” Kirk whispered, and he half-smiled despite his fear. 

“But you did imagine it,” Spock said, and his eyes crinkled at the corners. “Jim, are you prepared?”

“No,” Kirk said, and laughed weakly. “But go ahead anyway.” As Spock lifted one hand to Kirk’s face, he reached between them with the other. Kirk met his hand and laced their fingers together. Spock’s fingers settled along Kirk’s psi-points, and he closed his eyes. 

“My mind to your mind, my thoughts to your thoughts.” 

[tbhimnoteasyonmyself]

DFF & the Contemporary Issue of Trends

Last time I came onto this tag I was grasping at the last droplet of hope I had for the ending to be good.

I decided to tell you all about the great seen of Tee's confrontation with Non's dead body.

Before that I tried to guess who White might be in the story and what was happening with Phee and how and why Tan was New.

And along the way I made polls and memes and I joined this fandom in appreciating what seemed to be another great story by BOC.

We've all dedicated so much time and care and love and talent and skill to contribute to this community, to make something great around something we were growing to love...

But now we're all left neck deep in the mud, as another series with great potential bites the dust in a terrible manner.

And I'm here as the ominous oracle of the death and peril yet to come, in good Greek Tragedy fashion, to tell you this was not the 1st time we've witnessed this and it shall not be the last. And all bc contemporary media have taken 1 thing to their heart and 1 thing only: engagement.

So let's take a step back.

What fuels people? What sticks with them?

How many times a day do you remember you love your loved ones in a week? Perhaps not many. But how many times do you remember the guy the big car crash you witnessed on your way home the week it happened? A lot, probably.

Why? Bc it's new, it's shocking and it probably fuels you with either fear or frustration.

The same can be said about contemporary trends. They're new, shocking and probably fuel a negative emotion in you. So they get talked about A LOT. All at once.

This is the reason why media is becoming what it is. It's realized all st once, tried to rush through plots and plots to be relevant all the while. Makes twists and twists and twists. And has something controversial to it. Bc this will make people talk. And talk will get more people to consume.

Until of course, the next more appalling thing happens and everyone moves on.

God, this is even true in the news. I mean... How many times do you hear about good projects? Or art? But hoe many times do you hear about murder?? No wonder we're growing desensitized to it. It's all we hear about all the time!!

DFF is just another case. Another series in a sea of them that tried to be shocking and play with expectations to keep people talking.

My question is, however: and now what? Now what?

Sure, we're all talking about it cause we're shocked and pissed. But adter the emotions settle and the curiosity to find out the fuck went wrong dies out, what happens?

Don't get me wrong, I love this fandom but the series itself? It'll mostly fade away. It's not something I want to create anything for anymore. I don't have care for it any longer bc why would I??? If no one bothered to mind writing something that even made sense, why should I care to love it??

And I feel like I'm not the only one!

This fandom will die. Like many other have. And what will the creators have achieved?

I never thought about The Untamed with too much fervor, for example. And most of us have not. But if I go into its tag here or on AO3, there's still stuff being made for it. And everyone once in a while, I'll think about it and I'll coke back to it and I'll cherish and nurture it for what it is. And the fandom's there. And sure rn I haven't interacted with that fandom in a bit. And I've been on DFF's tag nearly every day. But in a year, maybe even just a few months, I'll still be thinking and coming back to Xue Yang and Wei Ying and Jiang Cheng and Wen Qing... I won't be coming back to this mess, though. And in the end, it might not matter to anyone, but it matters to artists, doesn't it?

We make things because we are humans and we wish to connect with others. We wanna live forever in the things we live behind. But a story can't be told if there's no one to tell it to. You can't live forever in a void where no one awaits you.

So, in the end, we have consumed DFF, they have their money. But it will die and be buried together with all the people who have buzzed me while I was crossing the street or didn't held a door for me or were annoying to me on the bus. While other series, nourished with more love, will be there with me and many others, accumulating all the times we thought about them through the years, alive and well.

[gardnwalls]

(  özge yağiz,  cis woman,  she/her  )  —  🎬  just  announced,  nihan  ergenç  has  been  cast  as  cleo  şanverdi  (  cleo  sertori  )  in  the  upcoming  h2o:  just  add  water  reboot.  the  twenty  five  year  old  is  trending  as  people  are  debating  if  the  earthy  scent  of  rain  in  the air,  prickly  sense  of bare  feet  touching  uncut  grass,  hazily  waking  up  to  a  ray  of  sunshine  kissing  your  skin  and  roseate  hues  spilling  lack  of  sleep  that  they  are  known  for  is  enough  to  make  them  as  good  as  original.  a  quick  google  search  shows  that  their  fans  call  them  empathetic,  but  internet  trolls  think  they’re  more  imprudent.  i  guess  their  newest  interview  for  variety  where  they  talk  about  how  small  acting  gigs  were  initially  a  means  to  an  end  to  open  their  own  flower  shop  will  let  people  to  know  them  better. 

biography.

         despite  complications  ,  first  whimper  sparks  in  a  dimly  lit  room  ,  with  the  chilly  october  breeze  wafting  through  window  screens  ,  as  nihan  is  placed  in  her  mother’s  arms  for  the  first  and  last  time  .  through  finiancial  difficulties  ,  she  is  brought  up  by  a  single  father  who  more  than  makes  up  for  the  lack  of  a  maternal  figure  they  were  deprived  of  much  too  early  .

         so  far  as  their  loving  nature  is  concerned  ,  father  and  daughter  are  cut  from  the  same  cloth  ,  they  do  everything  together  from  house  chores  to  outdoor  activities  and  though  barely  getting  by  ,  he  tries  to  shelter  her  from  reality  by  making  ends  meet  in  less  conventional  methods  -  that  is  until  one  day  she  comes  home  from  school  to  patrol  cars  parked  outside  their  front  door  .  now  barely  a  teenager  ,  nihan  watches  kicking  and  screaming  as  her  father  is  torn  away  from  her  right  before  her  eyes  .  no  matter  the  kicks  and  screams  ,  she  is  given  no  option  but  to  be  taken  under  her aunt's  wing  in the states,  should  she  agree  to  never  contact  her  father  again  .

         a  new  chapter  starts  ,  with  the  person  she  loves  most  locked  away  and  and  estranged  family  members  willingly  ,  but  harshly  looking  after  her  .  bright  smile  fades  away  and  nihan  clams  up  ,  without  uttering  a  single  word  for  months  on  end  .  drowned  in  her  own  thoughts  ,  she  buries  her  face  in  a  pillow  every  day,  even  though  the  tears  dried  long  ago  .  instead  of  acting  up  ,  she  carries  the  heavy  load  of  grief  by  maintaining  an  apathetic  stance  towards  anything  and  everything  . 

         even  if  there  are  things  she  wants  to  get  off  her  chest  ,  no  one  is  willing  to  listen  or  at  least  lend  a  shoulder  to  cry  on  ,  which  eventually  leads  to  her  grades  ,  among  other  things  ,  tanking  .  that  is  when  nihan  decides  to  go  against  her  aunt’s  restrictions  and  secretly  write  a  letter  to  her  father  .  soon  enough  she  receives  a  response  and  the  resting  melancholy  starts  to  dissolve  ,  seeing  as  this  back  and  forth  serves  as  her  wake  up  call  .

         after  graduating  high  school  with  fairly  average  grades  ,  nihan  moves  out  and  into  a  small  apartment  in  east  hollywood  ,  taking  up  any  available  job  that  she  can  find  and  the  more  she  surrounds  herself  with  people  ,  the  wider  her  smile  grows  .  it  takes  a  lot  of  hours  of  hard  work  for  her  to  get  there  ,  but  her  dream  is to start  up  her  own  small  business  ,  a  flower  shop  .  there  is  not  a  job  more  suitable  for  such  a  kind  and  fragile  heart  as  taking  some  plain  soil  and  giving  it  life  ,  watching  flowers  bloom  and  taking  pride  in  each  and  every  one  of  them  .

in the midst of odd jobs , she happens to be walking past a movie set in desparate search of extras , to which she happily obliges . soon after , she is approached by a talent scout inquiring whether she would be interested in being managed and promoted as an actress . though taken as a light hearted joke at first , she dials number on the card given and just like that , auditions are piling up . small roles at first , but she gives all she can to each and every one .

as the roles get bigger and she starts gaining some fame , she realizes she can't leave acting on a backburner , while trying to maintain multiple jobs . nihan starts taking this seriously and makes guest appearances in a lot of popular productions , commonly known as the secondary character you take a little too much interest in and you wish you could see more of . her latest project is meant to be her biggest role yet , as cleo şanverdi ( sertori ) in the h2o: just add water reboot .

         as  far  as  her  personality  goes  ,  nihan  is  the  kind  of  person  who  brightens  up  your  day  ,  very  vibrant  ,  delicate  and  has  a  genuinely  kind  soul  ,  she  likes  to  give  love  no  matter  what  she  gets  in  return  ,  if  anything  at  all  .  that  being  said  ,  she  looks  very  fragile  and  sensitive  ,  but  after  everything  she's  been  through  ,  her  coping  mechanisms  couldn't  get  any  stronger  .

as  much  as  she  can  take  shit  from  anyone  ,  she  does  not  appreciate  people  who  try  to  take  advantage  of  her  kindness  .  relationships  that  go  beyond  a  surface  level  are  a  bit  tricky  for  her  ,  because  she  doesn’t  like  sharing  things  about  her  past  ,  it  all  circles  back  to  that  one  day  her  father  was  taken  from  her  and  negative  emotions  start  flooding  in  ,  which  is  something  she’s  not  willing  to  fully  come  to  terms  with  just  yet  .

         romantic  relationships  are  also  not  her  strongest  suit  ,  nihan  loves  delicately  and  tends  to  partners  like  she  would  a  plant  that  requires  minimal  effort  .  doesn’t  show  the  slightest  hints  of  jealousy  ,  because  she  is  genuinely  the  type  to  let  people  make  choices  of  their  own  and  if  said  choices  are  at  her  expense  ,  she  thinks  it  was  simply  not  meant  to  be  and  distances  herself  . 

that  being  said  ,  at  times  she  feels  envious  of  people  who  get  a  rush  of  adrenaline  and  fear  when  they  see  their  partner  close  to  someone  else  .  there’s  always  an  emotional  disconnect  that  doesn’t  allow  her  to  fully  embrace  the  relationships  she’s  been  in  the  past  ,  falls  fast  when  someone  is  kind  to  her  ,  but  doesn’t  know  how  to  develop  that  initial  infatuation  into  actual  real  feelings  .  she  wants  to  make  her  heart  available  ,  but  sometimes just doesn’t  know  how  .

however , she is the type of friend who will bring you flowers just to brighten up your day or go out of her way to walk you home just to spend time with you . a lot of kind gestures come to her naturally and she's very affectionate with friends and partners , which is why sometimes the line between friendship and romance can be a bit blurry with her without it necessarily being her intention .

wanted connections.

platonic  :  best  friends  who  drifted  apart  ,  we  can  figure  out  the  deets  but  it’s  always  a  dramatic  plot  and  i  just  need  this  kind  of  chaotic  energy  in  my  life,  frenemies  ,  a  classic  that  never  fails  to  crack  me  up  ,  nihan  is  not  one  to  pick  a  fight...  but  this  person  just  doesn’t  sit  right  with  her  and  they  get  the  less  friendly  version  ,  sibling  type  relationship  ,  just  a  very  pure  friendship  where  they’re  there  for  each  other  and  it’s  so  nice  and  wholesome  ,  drinking/partying  buddies  ,  ok  listen  nihan  is  not  a  regular  drinker  ,  but  this  person  could  just  trigger  something  in  her..  get  her  drunk  i  promise  it’s  gonna  be  fun!!!!

romantic : on and off , hear me out nihan is not an anti romantic </3 , in fact , she’s naive and gives second and third chances , which is why she always finds herself going back to that person , even if they both know it’s going to end with them parting ways again , unrequited love/crush , whether it’s on her behalf or the other way around… it’s just a cute concept okay??? esp when it’s one sided and makes me wanna ugly cry , enemies with benefits , because it’s sexy thats it .

misc  :  bad  influence  ,  basically  someone  who  pushes  her  in  the  wrong  direction  and  helps  erase  any  progress  she’s  made  so  far  ,  neighbors  ,  roomates  ,  besties  ,  slowburns  ,  exes  ,  a  good  old  partner  in  crime  would  be  nice  too!!!  get  her  into  trouble  and  drag  her  through  the  mud..  yuh

her pinterest board can be found here and i also have a plots sideblog for inspo that you can find here ♡

[landofzero-archive]

Ougonten - Account of the Dragon's Ascension 5

Writer: Kanata Haruka

Season: Winter

(Location: Starmony Dorm Common Area)

(A few days later)

Mika: Ngah~…… I wonder why this happened.

Mitsuru: Mika-ni~chan, cheer up! Keep it together!

Mika: Mitsuru-kun, sorry. I understand I gotta keep it together but……

But I never thought somethin’ like this would happen if I left things to Ran-senpai.

Nagisa: …… I’m sorry. I didn’t expect it either. My apologies, the result was unexpected, but a little funny.

Mika: Funny, huh…… I’m seriously worried about this~! I knew it, I shouldn’t have left it to Ran-senpai!

Mitsuru: But you also agreed with Nagisa-senpai’s strategy, right?

Mika: Uuu…… I thought it was a good idea when I heard it.

Nagisa: …… In the SNS trend of Mika-kun being a god, I introduced a new development in which I would appear as a new god.

…… The strategy was to transfer the popular trend from Mika-kun to me in the process.

…… With God Mode, I would be comfortable appearing in a context that treats me as a god.

Mitsuru: Actually, everyone was really excited to see Nagisa-senpai’s appearance!

Didn’t Nagisa-senpai write that first post on SNS and make it popular?

Nagisa: …… I used my screen name and account to prevent people from identifying me.

…… I will use that account to defeat the god Mika-kun and prepare the process for me to take his place as the new god.

…… After that, I was planning to start weaving a new story in which my fans would all treat me as a god, just the same as when Mika-kun became a god.

Mika: But the result is that the number of gods has increased to two~. Why is it that Ran-senpai and I are supposed to rule the world as friends?

If I were to rule the world, I’d be better off doing it together with Oshi-san!

Mitsuru: I’m glad that Nagisa-senpai and Mika-ni~chan have become friends!

Nagisa: …… I was surprised to find out that the people who consider Mika-kun a god were stronger than anticipated.

Mika: If anythin’, I feel like they’re more riled up than before……

Nagisa: …… An enemy presence is essential as an element to liven up a story. Apparently I was perfect for the casting.

…… Right now Mika-kun and I are happily ruling the world together, but the lead up was truly a battle between gods.

…… Fufu. It was interesting to see someone come up with ideas that I would never have thought of myself.

…… In particular, I would like to praise the author who turned Mika-kun into “Ougonten” and scatter gold coins, causing me to drown in a sea of golden coins.

…… It’s fairly amusing if you interpret it as Mika-kun hitting me on the cheek with a wad of bills……♪

Mika: I still don’t understand Ran-senpai very well. Why are ya findin’ this interestin’?

Nagisa: …… Is it not interesting? It was truly a passionate moment when I activated God Mode and split the sea of gold coins, wasn’t it?

Mika: No, I don’t care about that. The problem is that nothin’s solved in the end.

Nagisa: …… I’m sorry about that. Certainly, I was unable to dethrone Mika-kun from godhood.

…… If you think about it, this novel was started by Mika-kun’s fans. A story where Mika-kun loses is unforgivable.

Mitsuru: But Mika-ni~chan and Nagisa-senpai’s fans all get along and enjoy the story.

Nagisa: …… Indeed. That was the most unexpected thing. It’s not that our fans fight, but that they influence each other and become good friends.

…… In that sense, I don’t think my nosiness this time was all that bad.

Mika: Well, that’s true, but……

Nagisa: …… In the end, this was just a temporary trend. If you wait, it’ll fade away someday.

…… Doing various things poorly to try and fix it might just be more likely to generate opportunities to create even more attention for it, like in this instance.

…… I believe the best solution is to quietly watch without overreacting.

Mika: I guess I should just wait until everyone gets bored and not do anythin’ unnecessary……

Hmmm. If that’s the case then that’s fine…… Haaah

Mitsuru: Mika-ni~chan, are you okay? That was a big sigh wasn’t it?

Mika: Ahh, yeah. I’m fine, Mitsuru-kun. Thank ya lots for yer concern.

…… The fact that all my fans are writing novels with me as the main character, and that they’re excited about it…

If they’re happy, they’re happy. I think they’re doing that because they like me.

But I’m still inexperienced. It’s really uncomfortable to be treated like a god.

I’m not that big a deal. It’s like my name is taking on a life of its own……

Mitsuru: Mika-ni~chan……

I can kinda understand how Mika-ni~chan feels.

I’ve always played cool roles, so I’ve always seen myself as a cool person.

So I thought maybe that’s what people wanted from me……

It’s like they don’t see the real me and I feel lonely.

Mika: I feel like saying I’m lonely is a little different but…… That’s right, isn’t it.

Mitsuru-kun, you still keep getting cool roles don’t you? Don’t you think it’s tough?

Mitsuru: Yep! But it’s fun to play cool roles!

Mika-ni~chan would also be happy to have a story written where you’re the main character, right?

Mika: It’s like I said before. I’m happy to have people who accept me no matter what.

Mitsuru: Then you should cherish that Mika-ni~chan like that!

Mika: Eh? What do ya mean by cherishing me like that?

Mitsuru: Hmm…… I dunno! I don’t really understand difficult things either!

But the most important thing is that Mika-ni~chan is happy!

I think it’s be great if Mika-ni~chan enjoyed the part that makes you feel happy!

Mika: …… I see. I kinda understand what Mitsuru-kun wanted to say.

I was thinkin’ about it too deeply, but I think it might be a good idea to enjoy the current situation.

If that’s the case, I’ll try to enjoy this situation a little more now that I’ve become a god♪

Nagisa: …… Is it correct to think that you’ve sorted out your feelings?

Mika: Yep. Thanks to Mitsuru-kun, I feel like I’ve gotten over it. Thank you♪

Mitsuru: Ehehe! If Mika-ni~chan feels better, then I’ll be happy too!

Mika: Ran-senpai…… There’s a lot of things I want to say, but I’d like to thank ya fer helpin’ me this time.

Nagisa: …… Fufu. I don’t think I was much help this time.

Mika: Don’t worry about the details! Please accept my gratitude sincerely.

Nagisa: …… Is that so, I’m happy to have you thank me. I, too, will be sincerely happy.

Previous | Directory | Next

[novankenn]

"Jaune Gets a Gun AU - Day 3" Date-a-Live - Spirit (Angel)

Emerald rushed to catch up to the four that were carrying Jaune away from the Colonial Marines booth. She was worried that the others would try to make further inroads towards capturing Jaune's heart, and even if she wasn't truly attracted to Jaune's male form, she still didn't want to lose her chance at the possibility of happiness. When she finally caught up, Jinx was brushing off Jaune's outfit as the other three were discussing where to go next.

Emerald: How about lunch? That's where we were headed before, you know...

Tiny Tina: I could eat.

Ruby: I'm kind of hungry as well.

Pyrrha: If we're all thinking the same thing, then I guess we should. I'll cover everyone.

Jaune: You don't...

Pyrrha: I'm COVERING everyone. I barely touch all my sponsorship funds, so I want to splurge.

Jaune: I guess... if everyone else is...

Jinx: Jaune, what's wrong?

Jaune: (Pressing his hand against his chest.) I feel... strange.

????: I've finally found you.

Tiny Tina: And who might you be?

Renie: My name is Renie, and I am very interested in you... Jaune Arc.

Jaune: Who? (groans) How?

The girls slowly started to form a protective circle about the beloved blond knight. They stopped their slow advance when Jaune groaned, and as they turned they watched him fall to his knees gripping his chest, agony on his face.

Girls: JAUNE!

Whipping back around Pyrrha, Jinx and Tiny Tina prepared to get answers only to find the woman who identified herself as Renie, was gone, replaced by...

Phantom: It is time, Jaune. Touch this, and all your suffering will cease...

The cloaked figure vanished and reappeared next to Jaune`s kneeling form.

Phantom: ... unlock your potential. Unleash all that they bound inside you.

Jaune: *Groan

Ruby: (Rushing forward with her semblance) Get away...

The other girls were only seconds behind Ruby in their own charge, to end up bowled over as Ruby was sent flying backwards into them. The figure hadn't even moved.

Phantom: Just touch it, Jaune... touch it.

As the girls struggled to untangle themselves, the strange floating crystal drifted downward. Jaune tried to swat it aside, but as soon as he touched it.

Jaune`s scream caused them all to freeze. A pure and utter sense of dread filling their hearts. The light that had been centred where Jaune and the crystal had touched, faded...

Ruby: Okay, what the FUDGE is it with people turning Jaune into WAIFUs!

Emerald: She's kinda cute.

Jinx: She is. Definitely cute, almost like how I'd picture and Angel.

Emerald: I can totally see it.

Tiny Tina: Seriously, you two, J-Baby has been transformed into a GIRL again!

Pyrrha: This is becoming a seriously troubling trend.

Phantom: Finally Angel...

Jinx: Called it!

Phantom: ... has arisen...

Jaune's eyes opened, and instantly zeroed onto Phantom. Pyrrha knew the look on Jaune's face, even if it wasn't his true face. He was pissed. Slowly he rose into the air...

Jaune: Metatron!

Phantom: Sh...!

Girls: SWEAR JAR!

Jaune: What did you DO to ME?

Phantom: I... um... well... it's like... ah...

Jaune: WHAT. DID. YOU. DO. TO. ME?

Ozpin: She unlocked a power that has been buried with in your family line for generations.

Girls: What the F...!

Ozpin: Swear Jar.

Jaune: She must... where'd she go?

Ozpin: (Taking a sip from his mug) It seems Phantom, or Ms Renie made a tactical retreat, as you are rather intimidating in this form Jaune.

Pyrrha: So what is going on?

Ozpin: Ms Renie used a special crystal, a sephira crystal to be exact, to unlock a power that has remained contained with in the Arc bloodline for generations, though it is rather interesting that it could manifest through you, considering you are male.

Tiny Tina: And I thought things were messed up in the Borderlands.

Jinx: I still think she's cute, almost adorable.

Emerald: I prefer his Tail-Yellow from, but I completely agree with that statement.

Pyrrha: So, let me get this straight? Jaune's entire family has powers like this hidden inside them? But, now correct me if I'm getting this wrong... only the girls should be able to access this... power?

Ozpin: Right in one, Ms Nikos.

Pyrrha: I need to sit down.

Ruby: So is he a WAIFU forever now? Or can he change back?

Jaune: Yeah, can I change back?

Ozpin: Yes, you can change back. Your spirit power just needs to be sealed, so it's not so overwhelming.

Jaune: And how do I do that?

Ozpin: (Leans in close to Ruby and whispers in her ear.) Kiss him Ms Rose, and you'll get your friend back... and maybe open the door to more?

Pyrrha: (Noticing Ruby's blush) What did you, just...?

Jinx/Tiny Tina/Emerald : Hey! No fair! We call hacks!

Pyrrha just stood there, completely shocked that in a burst of rose petals, Ruby raced up to Jaune's floating form and planted one on his lips. In a flash of light, Jaune was back to normal, and Ruby was weaving on her feet overcome with unadulterated joy.

Ozpin: My work is done, here. I bid you all a good day.

Jaune: I'm starting to feel like someone is playing with my life, just to see how ridiculous it can end up.

Pyrrha: (Taking a deep breath) Who would do that? Who could be capable of doing such a thing?

Jaune: (Rubbing the back of his neck) It's just a feeling I'm getting.

Ozpin rounded a corner and froze. His eyes growing concerned as a very intimidating figure stalked forward.

Ozpin: Glynda?

Glynda: The others will hear about this... tampering...

Ozpin: I didn't...

Glynda: You only informed Ms Rose on how to revert Jaune. It will be up to the others IF you remain part of the shipping-pool.

Ozpin: You can't! Lancaster forever!

Glynda: Blasphemy! Arkos shall rule the day!

Renie: (Hiding a distance away.) That's one... seven more to go, and finally this world will be freed from them...

(Okay, another dumb idea that just jumped into my head. Any way, the NEXT post will be another weapon based one. Hope You enjoyed)

[theplottdump]

Lunch was worse.

Lunch was randomly assigned and she ended up eating next to the Principal and some ugly townies. Luckily Liz was there as a lifeboat.

Liz: Cheer up Dahls, things aren't so bad. Sure half the school knows but at least Poppy's poll is trending on not taking him to Prom. And Prom is ages away anyway! 2 or 3 mini arcs at least! With lots of complicated poses and CC! Dahlia: /Sigh/ I guess.

In gameplay news, Poppy fell asleep on a bench during lunch and Val ate next to her to make himself look cooler. 😂

Unfortunately, (and I swear it wasn't me) after lunch Dahlia was routed to the seat right next to Poppy and Beau :| Poppy: Beau I was thinking IF I say yes, you should definitely wear a bold color. I usually wear warm tones so pinks would best fit with my color story. Beau: 🥲

Poppy: Let me check my poll. 36% for YES POPPY GET IT GIRL, 45% for EW NO UR TOO GOOD FOR HIM and 19% for IDC just show me the results!

Still got a few hours left on it tho! Dahlia did you get a chance to vote? 😏

Dahlia: Why does the Watcher wish me to suffer.

Val: YOU THINK YOU GOT PROBLEMS? THE GAME ROUTED ME TO THE BACK OF THE CLASSROOM NEXT TO THE MOST ATTRACTIVE MALE IN SCHOOL, A VERITABLE SIM JESUS, AND NOW I'M ALL CLAMMY AND I CAN'T SEE THE BOARD.

Class went fairly well while Poppy checked her Simstagram obsessively. Overall, Could have been worse. 🤷‍♀️

Even though she didn't want to care, and she didn't think Poppy would actually go through with it anyway, Dahlia was relieved when the dumb poll ended. Hopefully this drama would fade away soon, and get overshadowed by some permapaywall nonsense instead.