#and at that point there’s clearly a Conversation that has to be had

[rhyrhy]

Vital signs ـــــــــﮩ٨ـ

Greys anatomy AU! Doctor- Abby Anderson

Mlist | moodboards I second chap (you are here) |

Two: Sink or swim 🩺

⚕️ summary: At St. Mary’s Hospital, the rules are simple. Saving lives, avoiding attachment, and never going overboard. However, staying within those boundaries is becoming increasingly difficult under the constant gaze of the head of cardio.

Your feet feel like lead in your shoes. Two hours ago, you found out that your planned one-night stand was actually the head of cardio at your hospital. And now, just when you thought your bad luck had peaked, fate decided to twist the knife. Because despite your best efforts to avoid Dr. Anderson, she was the resident on this case with you. So, you did everything you could by yourself. You pushed through rounds, meticulously checked vitals, double-checked scans. You weren’t about to look incompetent, not on your first shift. That wasn’t an option. You needed be that intern to get that first surgery.

But now… you’ve hit a wall.

Great.

Nine hours in, the morning has blurred into a mess of movement, orders, and adrenaline. Somewhere in between rushing from one patient to another, you and the other interns finally exchange names, though it barely registers. Everyone’s too exhausted to commit anything to memory beyond who’s in charge and where they need to be.

The sleeve of your white coat brushes against the empty desk as you sit hunched over Katie’s chart. The distant chatter of coworkers in the cafeteria barely reaches you, drowned out by the sound of your own thoughts. Your eyes burn from staring at the same scans, the skin of your fingertips dry from flipping through printed ink a million times. Nothing. How could there be nothing when she was clearly in pain? You can’t go back into her room without answers, you need to prove yourself.

At some point, Dina hurries over, eyes wide with barely masked panic.

“I need help. My patient’s O2 stats are dropping, and I have no idea why.” Jesse lingers just behind her, standing a little too close, like he’s waiting for an excuse to jump in. He’s always like that with Dina—hovering, teasing, toeing the line for coworkers.

You let out a long sigh, rubbing your temple. “Ugh, you too? Mine is driving me up a wall. It’s like a phantom pain—nothing’s showing up on these scans.” You glance back at the pages of Katie’s chart. Blood work, normal. Imaging, clear. Symptoms inconsistent. But she looks awful—tired, weak, barely able to sit up without wincing. Something isn’t adding up.

Without realizing it, the four of you have gravitated toward each other like lost kids at recess, huddling together like anxious penguins. Intern penguins.

Or, as General Marlene’s voice echoes in your head, “bottom of the surgical food chain.”

Marlene. Just thinking about her makes your shoulders tense. She’s the reason you got into St. Mary’s. The reason you had to pack up and leave home, leave behind the mess you were barely holding together. You told yourself it was for the best—fresh start, new city, clean slate. No more family drama breathing down your neck, no ex showing up at your doorstep with apologies too late to mean anything. But somehow, standing here, exhausted, drowning in charts and expectations, you’re already wondering if this was a mistake.

Then, as if summoned by your thoughts, a voice cuts through the group like a scalpel.

“Why are y’all just standing there?”

Marlene. She’s leaning over the railing above, arms crossed, looking unimpressed. The overhead lights cast sharp angles on her face, making her look even more intimidating than she did during rounds. Her voice halts conversation. You barely have time to react before she levels you all with an unimpressed glare.

“Rule five: when I say move, you move.” She rolls her eyes and waves everyone off.

A brief pause lingers. Then, after a few awkward head nods and quiet “thank yous,” for whatever help we’d gathered, like a bunch of scolded children, you scatter.

You let out a breath and head back to Katie’s floor. Maybe you didn’t ask enough questions. Maybe you were too focused on her stubbornness. How could your first case—a stomach ache, of all things—stump you this much? The world around you fades into white and black lettering, as you push your hair behind your ear, weaving through patients and doctors, eyes glued to the papers in your hands, praying there’s something you missed.

You press the cold gray button with the arrow facing up, waiting for the elevator. The doors slide open, and you step inside, still reading. A faint hello pulls you from your trance. You don’t feel conversational so You nod absentmindedly in acknowledgment before tilting your head back, letting the bright fluorescent light fill your vision. Your brain is fried. A five-second break won’t kill you.

Then, a familiar chime.

You glance over your shoulder, and there she is, hair pulled back, glasses hooked onto the collar of her dark blue scrubs. You’re still not used to seeing her in this environment. It feels like night and day, remembering the slightly clingy woman who had begged you to stay in bed with her just hours ago. Abby’s hand curling around your wrist under warm sheets, her hair messy, falling halfway over her face. The sleepy rasp of her voice: “Stay a little longer?”

You blink hard, forcing yourself back to reality. Trying to keep those thoughts to a minimum. She leans against the wall, arms crossed, looking way too at ease for someone who just spent six hours cutting people open. Nope. Not going there.

You straighten awkwardly. “Dr. Anderson.”

Her eyebrow raises at the formality, but she doesn’t comment. Instead, she hums. You snap your head forward, keeping your eyes locked on the silver doors, willing the elevator to move faster.

A beat of silence. Then—

“So…” Abby starts casually, like you didn’t wake up in the same bed seven hours ago. “You a hiker?”

“…What?” Your brows pull together, with a small squint of confusion. Was this her idea of small talk, you screamed internally for the universe to let up.

She shrugs, tilting her head slightly. “Utah. Mountains. People out here love hiking. Thought maybe you were one of those ‘find yourself on a trail’ types.”

You blink. “…That’s the most random thing you could’ve said just now.”

She hums, pretending to think. “Well, I considered leading with, ‘Hey, funny running into you here after last night,’ but I figured you’d prefer the small talk.”

Your jaw clenches. “Yes. Definitely prefer the small talk.”

She nods, barely holding back a grin. “Right. So, hiking.” Her gaze flickers downward for a fraction of a second, like she’s mulling over her own words before speaking.

She shrugs,“Just saying. Sounds like a good stress reliever. Can’t help but think they might be onto something.”

There’s a slight twitch at the corner of your lips. “Glad to see you’re adjusting well.”

She grins. “Mhm…Could be a team-building exercise.”

Your brow furrows. “What—are you inviting me—” You cut yourself off, looking away quickly. This was unprofessional. She was your superior. This woman is unbelievable, to say the least.

Moments of silence pass over you two, You don’t wait. The second the doors open, you’re out before she can respond. Just before they close behind you, Abby calls out—

“You let me know if you change your mind about the great outdoors!”

You roll your eyes, but your lips twitch before you can stop them. But as the doors slide shut, you can feel her eyes lingering on you, the weight of her presence pressing against your back.

A dim-lit memory flickers behind your eyelids, The Bar—Abby’s fingers loosely curled around a whiskey glass, the way she leaned in when she talked to you, her eyes unwavering. Her cheek rested against her palm as she listened, intently, to your slightly tipsy ramblings.

“I just… I needed to leave.” Your voice had been quieter then, more vulnerable. “It felt suffocating. Like I was trapped in this version of myself I didn’t even like.” Abby had only nodded, slow, understanding. Watching you like you were the only thing that mattered. No judgment, or chiming in…just listening.

You shake the thought away. Not the time.

The hours tick by, the weight of exhaustion pressing against your shoulders. Your patient, Katie, had been a complete mystery symptoms not quite fitting any obvious diagnosis, test results coming back inconclusive. But now, staring at the latest scan, the pieces finally click into place.

Your breath catches. “Oh my God.”

You scramble for a pen, flipping through her chart, double-checking the notes, re-running the possibilities in your head. It has to be this. A rare complication, but one that makes perfect sense. Your heart pounds as you yank the file off the desk. You have to tell Abby. Now. You spin on your heel, practically jogging down the hall, dodging nurses and patients as your sneakers squeak against the freshly waxed floors. Almost there—

BAM.

You collide with something solid. Hard enough to knock the air from your lungs and send your patient file flying. “Shit—” A pair of hands grab your arms, steadying you before you can completely wipe out.

“Damn, dude. Where’s the fire?” You blink up at Ellie, who’s eyeing you with equal parts amusement and mild concern.

“I—” you shake your head, catching your breath. “I think I figured out what’s wrong with Katie.”

Ellie whistles. “Look at you, solving medical mysteries on your first shift. Next thing you know, you’ll be stealing surgeries from the rest of us.”

You huff, bending down to grab your scattered papers. “Yeah, well, first I have to survive telling Anderson.”

Ellie helps you scoop up the last of the notes, handing them over with a teasing grin. “Well, good luck with that. Try not to walk straight into her, too.” You roll your eyes but shoot her a quick smile before hurrying off. Abby was about to get an earful—whether she liked it or not.

The low hum of hospital machines fills the room as you stand just outside Katie’s door, patient file gripped tightly in your hands. Inside, her parents sit in stiff-backed chairs, her mother wringing a tissue between her fingers, her father rubbing at the bridge of his nose. Their exhaustion is palpable—the kind that comes from hours of waiting, of fear twisting in their stomachs. You take a steadying breath before stepping in. Abby is right beside you, her presence grounding even if she’s the reason you’re feeling twice as nervous.

Katie’s mother stands the moment she sees you. “Do you know what’s wrong with her?” Her voice wavers on the last word.

You exchange a quick glance with Abby, who gives you a small nod, silently urging you to speak.

“We do.” You clear your throat, stepping forward. “Katie has a rare complication called Pericarditis It’s uncommon, which is why it wasn’t immediately obvious, but now that we’ve identified it, we can move forward with treatment.”

Her father straightens. “A rare complication? But she was fine last week. She just had a fever—how does it turn into this?”

You nod, flipping open the file. “That’s a good question. What likely happened is that she had a viral infection—something that probably felt like a cold or mild flu. But instead of just running its course, the infection caused inflammation in the lining around her heart, making it difficult for it to pump properly. That’s why she’s been feeling weak and having chest pain.”

Katie’s mother clutches her husband’s arm. “But you can fix it, right?”

You hesitate, and Abby smoothly steps in. “We have a plan. We’re going to monitor her closely, start anti-inflammatory medication to reduce the swelling, and if necessary, we’ll drain any excess fluid. If she responds well, she could be feeling better in a matter of days.”

Katie’s father lets out a slow breath, nodding. “And she’ll recover?”

You soften. “That’s what we’re aiming for.”

You rub your temples as you finish scribbling notes into a chart, exhaustion already settling into your bones. It’s only your first shift, and yet you’ve somehow run across the entire hospital three times, nearly killed yourself tripping over an IV pole, and barely avoided making an idiot of yourself in front of Dr. Anderson—twice. Intern year was going to be hell.

You glance at the clock. Lunch. Thank God. As you step into the hallway, Jesse falls into step beside you, looking way too smug for someone who’s also running on fumes.

“You look like you just got hit by a truck,” he comments, elbowing you lightly. Scanning over your slumped shoulders.

You glance at him, Straightening up slightly. “Feel like it too.”

Ellie and Dina catch up, Ellie stretching her arms over her head. “At least you don’t have a patient who tried to bite you,” she grumbles.

Jesse snickers. “Pediatrics?”

“Worse. Old fart with dementia. Thought I was his ex-wife.” Ellie sighed, huffing a laugh at her own description.

Dina grimaces, with a shoulder pat that went on a bit longer than normal, or at least you thought. “Yikes Williams.”

As the four of you make your way toward the cafeteria, you let out a deeper sigh. “Honestly, I have bigger problems.”

Jesse raises an eyebrow, curiously spiking. “Bigger than almost getting bitten?”

“I need a roommate,” you admit. “My new place is way too big for just me, and rent is stupid expensive. I thought I’d be fine on my own, but at this rate, I might have to start selling my organs on the black market.”

Ellie smirks. “Dibs on your liver.”

Dina glances over. “Wait, you’re looking for a roommate?”

You nod. Dina nudges you with her shoulder. “I’m literally looking for a new place. My neighbor is wayy too loud at two in the morning. Two. In the morning.”

“Oh my God. Roomies?” Your eyebrows shoot up.

“Roomies.” You agreed, it might not be such a bad idea.

Jesse groans. “Okay, this is ridiculous. If anyone should be Dina’s roommate, it’s me. I’d make a great one.”

Ellie side-eyes him. “Jesse, your car is a biohazard. I can only imagine what your apartment looks like.”

Dina snorts. “Yeah, sorry, man. I think I’ll take my chances with her instead.” She gestures at you.

You sink into your chair, letting out a deep sigh as the exhaustion from the day settles into your bones. Your scrubs feel heavier than when you first put them on, your feet ache like you’ve run a marathon, and your brain is dangerously close to short-circuiting.

So this really is your life now—running on fumes, chasing diagnoses, dodging Marlene’s wrath, and trying not to make a fool of yourself in front of Dr. Anderson.

Your eyes flick across the cafeteria, landing on Abby at a distant table. She’s deep in conversation with another attending, posture relaxed, fingers absently tracing the rim of her coffee cup. She looks just as sharp and confident as she did in the OR. Like she belongs here. And then there’s you—an intern who spent the morning nearly killing herself with nerves, playing medical detective for the first time, and figuring out how to navigate the fact that she accidentally slept with head of cardio.

Great first day.

Taglist: @sevyscoven

[flightfoot]

I feel like we’re definitely letting Adrien off the hook for his not lie on a technicality. Marinettes question was clearly just if they talked or not, but then they went ‘oh Marinette said running so he didn’t lie’. Slippery slope, in any other high school drama that would have been a red flag. Especially if the other girl has to confirm that they do actually talk.

Important thing to point out: we never see the actual conversation between Adrien and Marinette, we only hear Marinette talk about it afterwards. So we don't actually KNOW how clear Marinette's true inquiry was. It might be that with Marinette's particular wording and the exact context, it was reasonable for Adrien to think that Marinette truly was asking whether they only talk WHILE RUNNING, as opposed to talking AT ALL.

Also as far as red flags go, there are definitely greater concerns, give the stuff Marinette was doing in Sublimation and Illustrhater. Adrien truthfully answering Marinette's question, but with the possibility that he might have had deceptive intent, really doesn't rate on that scale.

[love-byers]

interesting that the synopsis for 3x01 says summer has brought "budding romance"

budding...

last i checked, it'd been a year and half since mike first kissed el, and there are several lines indicating that mike and el were well into their relationship when s1 picks up.

"It's been like this all summer." 3x01

"They're just...kissing, right?" "It is constant!" 3x01

"For the first time in six agonizing months, they will not be seeing each other!" 3x02

this is not a 'budding' romance. this is not a romance in early development. this is a fully fledged, incredibly PDA ridden relationship. the script even referred to them as romeo and juliet and 'doomed lovers' on the hill. they are not 'budding' in any way shape or form.

same goes for jancy and lumax, and even dustin and suzie. they had been dating for weeks at that point.

then there's jopper, which i won't dismiss. it's just that they'd been pretty blatant romantic interests for the whole show, it would just be a little odd to imply their romance was at the very beginning of its development here despite them literally agreeing to go on a date a few days later. but sure, that is entirely possible. it is also possible that just like the line about summer bringing new jobs PLURAL (scoops ahoy and hawkins post), there is also more than one budding romance.

and there is another duo where it is confirmed that one is in love with the other, and something about their relationship had clearly shifted by that point in the summer. they even argue about it. and by the end of the season they have a moment with very clear romantic tension, and they both have ambiguous realizations about each other.

and their very first one on one interaction in the opening sequence of the episode is pretty romantic too, littered with lip glances and gentle soft spoken conversation.

i am of course talking about mike and will

budding romance...

i will also note that synopses ARE important and have just as much thought put into them. my film student moot @reo-bylerwagon has told me that there are entire assignments about writing a good synopsis and professors can be extremely particular about it. so this is not something that can just be discarded or dismissed. it's worth a bit of analyzing

[literary-illuminati]

2025 Book Review #5 Daisy Jones and the Six by Taylor Jenkins Reid

This was a book recommended by a friend an absolute eternity ago which I finally got around to reading, having long since forgotten any of its selling points or interesting qualities which might have accompanied the recommendation. Going in blind, I quite enjoyed the book as I read it, finished it feeling it had ended somewhat anticlimactically, and have grown a bit more sour on it as I thought about it to write this review. It’s not a bad book – still a fun, easy read! - but I’m not sure it’s really much more than that.

The book is structured as an oral history – or maybe the transcript of a documentary – about the titular band, a musical phenomenon that set the world on fire for a moment in the late ‘70s before dramatically breaking up halfway through the tour after releasing one of the best albums of the decade. Aside from bits of narration and scene-setting at the start of each chapter (and one conversation in the climax) the documentarian is invisible, and the story is entirely told through quotes from members of the band, associates and hangers-on, or just critics and writers on the period, as they’re interviewed thirty years and change later in the 2010s.

In the abstract, I adore this. I love unreliable narration, and Rashmoon-esque scenes where we get mutually exclusive versions of the same conflict from different perspective. Properly packaged, I am an incredibly easy mark for messy self-destructive codependency and melodrama. Thanks to some peculiar media taste on my parent’s part, I even have enduring fondness for the whole, I don’t know, heroic age of rock&roll? And the whole mass of accompanying narratives and tropes that you get buried in talking about music in the 60s-through-early-80s. And it’s not that the book doesn’t deliver on any of that, exactly – it’s not at all poorly executed, it knows what it’s trying to do. It’s just-

It feels like this is a book about a fictional band because it would be impossible to make such a morally simple, happy and redemptive story about any of the actual bands that clearly inspired it without seeming like Jenkins was getting paid to whitewash someone. It’s not that there isn’t mess, exactly, but it comes across like a born again Christian giving lurid descriptions of their debauched and sinful former life. There’s sex and drugs galore, but the worst person in the entire book is just a shitty deadbeat boyfriend. The entire main thrust of the book is building up an unacknowledged love triangle between Daisy, Billie and Camilla – actually quite compelling! And then it finally reaches a head, is cleanly and simply resolved in the most boringly conventional way, and the story jumps thirty years ahead to a ‘where are they now’. Where is the toxicity, the mess, the unforgivable betrayals everyone has to ignore so they can get on stage together, the fortune-destroying legal battles over the rights to the band’s legacy once it all falls apart? You finish the book feeling like Charlie Brown trying to kick a football.

This might be a problem of me setting my expectations too high, but up until the halfway point it does feel like it was building up to something appropriately nuclear. Instead, it peaked with Billie (and, despite the book’s name and cover art, in a narrative sense he really is the main character of the book) hits rock bottom and goes to rehab so he can be a good father for his daughters and husband to his wife. A truly mind-numbing fraction of the book from there is dedicated to singing the praises of the redemptive power of the reproductive nuclear family and an advertisement for going to rehab and learning self-control before drugs ruin your life. I spent two hundred pages waiting for it all to be groundwork for juicy, bitter dramatic irony, but no – just sincere, straightforward themes of the work. Hideous.

There is one rather hostile reading of the book that works? It’s revealed at the book’s climax that the diegetic framer and compiler of this oral history is Julia, Billie and Camilla’s daughter, and she is creating this project when her mother rather abruptly dies. And you know? This story is exactly what you might expect from an entertainment industry nepo baby asking her parents and a bunch of family friends (including who everyone assumed to be The Other Woman) about her parent’s romance and relationship and putting it all together into a deeply mediocre documentary that will kickstart her career entirely thanks to all the juicy stories from last generation’s superstars. But I am on the one hand really pretty sure this is not even close to the intended read of the story, and on the other still leaves you only reading the deeply mediocre documentary with no access whatsoever to the more interesting story underneath it. Decent conceit for fanfiction, I guess?

The identity of the diegetic narrator is also the justification for how shamelessly the story plays favourites with which band members to focus on – of course her parents and their relationship will be the central focus of the whole piece, of course her uncle and his girlfriend will get second-string status, of course the rest of the band will basically exist to provide colour commentary and throw peanuts (if that). A disparity the story itself draws enough attention to it, honestly, goes from charming to eyeroll inducing when it never actually does anything with it.

The story very much wants to be About gender and feminism, and (going by the discussion questions I glanced at while skimming through the reader’s guide section at the back of the book) is proud of it. Which isn’t really unjustified – it really does have a decent number of different female characters with their own developed personalities and prominent roles in the narrative. It does the thing I kind of hate where by happy coincidence all of them (even the ones on opposite ends of a romantic triangle) end up liking each other whenever they interact, but that’s just kind of a piece with the book not really letting anyone be a proper piece of shit. It is however very funny that the only black-coded character in the entire story is literally in the narrative to be Daisy’s longsuffering and supportive best friend there to provide a bit of maternal influence and talk sense into her when she really needs it.

But yes, decent airport read I suppose? Fun for a lazy day if you enjoy the premise, but not really worth seeking out otherwise.

[raayllum]

Spark notes on "Callum lost his true heart" in S2. Excellent true heart meta here by @kradogsrats on how the concept works more generally that I would 100% recommend reading before coming back here

The true heart is a gift of childhood. For a few wonder-filled years, we each have innocent eyes to experience the world’s beauty in a simple way. 

We see Callum on the cusp of being 15 undeniably believing that the resolution to the war can be that simple (even if we know well before S7, wherein Aaravos directly says they have similar views of how the world works, that Callum does not hold onto this simplicity for long). This is demonstrated, as Krads points out, in Callum's conversation in 1x02:

CALLUM: Can't you just make peace with them? HARROW: It's not that simple. CALLUM: It seems pretty simple to me. You don't want to die, I'm sure the elves and dragons don't want to die, so everyone agrees.

This emphasis on what people want over what they're devoted/committed to ("I'm sure they don't want to die" -> "I am already dead") is similar to Ezran's in arc 2 ("We all want peace and we all want love [...] you want to hurt someone else") that is both dismantled and upheld ("You want Janai to attack!" / "I want them to hurt"). To hammer it in further, Harrow even denotes that Callum is operating under the illusion of childhood, where adults have all the power/freedom.

What happens, I think, over the course of season one and season two is a bit of a domino effect, with Callum making choices in season one that season two continually 'knocks' down so to speak. The first and easiest example, perhaps, is Callum's choice in 1x03 between staying and trying to save Harrow... or choosing his little brother, who will remain in danger the longer they stay at the castle (Runaan and Viren both presenting strong antagonistic forces) and even worse danger the longer the egg remains.

Callum glanced out a tower window and saw Ezran in the courtyard searching for him. But how could he leave the tower when the king was in so much danger? Callum tried to think of what the king would want him to do. “I’m coming, Ez,” he called out the window. He gave one final look back at the door to King Harrow’s chamber, then bolted to the spiral staircase. He took the stairs two at a time, trying not to look at the dead bodies strewn on the way to his little brother.

—Book One: Moon novelization

Now, this choice makes sense. It is in many ways just another version of the same one (choosing Ezran and his safety) that Callum had made earlier this same episode. Both are more complicated choices ("the right thing, I hope" does not beget certainty, and therefore does not beget simplicity) but we'll get to that in a moment.

The final domino set up in season one for Callum's true heart is, I think, choosing to destroy the primal stone. The reason I say these are the dominoes, so to speak, is because each of these choices are made in a very distinctly Callum-y way, by which I mean: he thinks to a certain degree he can skirt the consequences.

This is not to take away from the weight of the choices Callum is making — they're still sacrifices, they're still honourable, he's still aware that he's risking Something — but there's still clearly a 'block' of some kind between "this is what I'm choosing to sacrifice" and "this is the full consequential weight of my sacrifices".

For example, the primal stone means a great deal to Callum. He states that "without this, I'm nothing" and it's a great powerful tool of magic. However, when Callum destroys it, it is currently unknown to him that this means no more magic, point blank. The consequence for his choice is steeper than he'd imagined, and now he has to live with the reality of it (for a time, anyway, but it's not like the journey to primal magic isn't gruelling, anyway).

But as we grow up, we are forced to make choices, sacrifices, compromises. And they change us forever. 

The same happens when it comes to learning about Harrow's death. Callum was happily writing him a letter two episodes ago, reassuring Ezran in 1x03, etc etc. And yet:

Callum made a sacrifice, then convinced himself that maybe he hadn't, and had to face the devastating reality of what he knew was most likely, on top of why Rayla wasn't able to tell him for the same reason(s) he couldn't tell Ezran.

I also want to highlight Claudia (and Soren)'s betrayal of Callum as well for two reasons. The first, and less interesting/important one in some ways (to me, anyway) is that if Callum's betrayal of 7x02 contributes to the last vestiges of Ezran's true heart being snapped to pieces, it would make sense that Claudia's betrayal would likewise contribute to Callum's.

The more interesting/important facet of the Callum/Claudia breakdown is, to me, what happens before Claudia shows her true colours, and whereupon she hasn't done anything (knowingly) wrong to Callum yet, and still:

RAYLA: Callum, I know you trust them, but if we let them come with us, by the time we know the truth, it'll be too late. Do you understand? We'll lose everything. CALLUM: So what do we do? How can we figure out if it's help, or a trap?

Callum has already made a Compromise. He trusts Claudia, but Rayla doesn't, and he ultimately trusts Rayla more than Claudia, even this early on, the same way he trusted Ezran more than Claudia (and didn't trust Claudia with Ezran, then) in 1x03. So he goes along with the illusion plan, which would've been pretty crappy to do to an old friend if Claudia (and Soren) had been genuine in their offer to help.

So I think in quick succession over a few days, most if not all of Callum's true heart gets shredded to pieces within the first few episodes of season two. Barring that, I think 2x07, specifically the choice to do dark magic, takes whatever remains.

AARAVOS: You call it corruption. I call it compromise.

'Could he really bring himself to go through with his plan? What if he didn’t succeed? What if he compromised his beliefs and it was all for nothing? […] But Rayla was in trouble.' —book two: sky novelization

While Aaravos lists off choices, sacrifices, and compromises as though they are separate things, and occasionally they can be, I think more often than not in life and within TDP that they are all the same thing.

Do you choose (sacrifice) your father or your baby brother? Do you sacrifice your oldest friendship (compromise) to ensure your travelling party can be safe? Do you use dark magic (a compromise, a sacrifice of yourself) to save someone you love?

And Callum's dark magic use falls into his previous pattern of you made a choice, and you knew there would be consequences, but you never dreamed it'd be This. And finally — finally — in 5x08, Callum makes a choice with the full knowledge of the consequences, of exactly what he's risking — and what he refuses to sacrifice.

His true heart has been gone for a while by this point, I think — but within the narrative, Callum is an adult from 5x08 onwards. He knows undeniably what he'll sacrifice and why, and what he won't.

(Something something sacrificing your true heart to protect the person who is your heart and your truth.)

[rosehipsister]

(low voice) secret samol....

decided to go for a little found materials thing with my sangfielle prompts this year, so it's barely readable haha actual transcripts under the cut because that's a lot to put into alt text

For @aphrddt hope you enjoy it! Thank you @secret-samol

Page 1, marked "5.2" and "Jna -> RvneP -> Ctbk -> Prse" 5:30 train to Perseverance

Mighty excited and grateful (blessing sign) to make my third observation so soon sense the year began. Here's to a great journey and if those gods (blessing sign) willing a striking UMR (Unschola Monthly Review) entry!

(under a sketch of the train emblem) not half bad!! can clean it up back at Mona's

5:29 Left Jahna with a minute to spare. Tough to take the mood in so early, wonder if the Tern has the flighty nature its name suggests. Promised travel time declared 21 hours only, which puts me in Perseverance by nightfall.

Page 2 (next to a scheme of a train car) "Bright Tern Postal, coach car 3" a1, a2 - doors b - windows c - luggage racks Full cherry wood interior with simple glass inlays, light and airy. Four seats per isle, hard seating with roll-up Bright Tern livery cushions affixed every bench.

No sign of a dining car - justified by our size and destination, but still a shame. Yet man can't be picky (blessing sign)

Card included: Train sighting log Day seen: 5th of 2nd month 8xx Place seen: departing from Jahna, Fifth Canton Mandate, Sangfielle Name: Bright Tern Postal Livery: faded cobalt and white Number of carriages: 6 (six) total, with 4 passenger and 2 mail and baggage Boarded: y/n Ticket number if applicable: C3/I2/S3

Page 3 5:55 - drafting for now? After filling out my observation card and taking in the detail, i took a window seat in isle 2 to absorb both the gorgeous scenery of Ojan plains and the bright c (crossed out) airy confines (?) of my train. Bright Tern pamphlet, kindly provided to me at the station, tells the traveler that their person shall be delivered swiftly and safely to Unschola held inns by nightfall. Seasoned ferroequinology fan such as myself in turn knows this ain't always true and schedules are more suggestions than rule.

6:50 Fell asleep promptly despite excitement. Car filled with low relaxed conversation and i can only hope i wasn't snoring like a complete fool.

(next to a sketch of a tea glass holder) akin to burl wood? lightweight and porous to touch

Page 4 Interior unchanged save for three glass holders, such as added to every isle table. I truly am in luck (blessing sign) since I've never seen these in situ before! Why three? Would i have neighbors? Reread my early notes - in need of editing, desperately. SHAPES ON THE TRAIN! 1 masked 1 avian (with arrow pointing from 7:04 timestamp)

7:20, i gather since i had a moment of awe and frankly dared not bring attention to myself at the moment. Yet clearly they do not mind me.

Page 5 Immediately past 7 car visited by a slight ojant. woman of quiet but nasty demeanor wearing Tern colors, heavy tea cart in front, steaming. Was tempted to strike a conversation, but reconsidered. Neither of the Shapes said a word yet. They don't touch the tea either, which is plain silly to me - never have i heard about train foods being nefarious to one's person.

(underlined) No snacks offered yet!

8:40 Insufferable people. Still silent, not even (page break)

Page 6 (page break) a glance in the window. Spent all my patience on detailing one sketch. M. seems to be asleep or sitting terrifyingly still.

8:43 IMPOSSIBLE PEOPLE! Wish they let me be. A. caught me sketching and very rudely grabbed my book. Nearly made me tear a page. If every Shape starts attacking inno- (crossed out) Both are still silent. A. ignored and possibly disrespected my Society badge. Book returned to me moderately crumpled. 9:17 Tern entered a tunnel as we were coming up to the mountain foothills. Terribly intrigued but can't see the devil's arse in there. A. got tired of harassing me and is now fast asleep. M. in turn finally aware of life.

(with arrow pointing at the tea maid sketch) back to our car. for what, just to glower at the shapes?

Page 7 9:20 - still in the dark All curtains rolled down as one! How i wish i knew the mechanism behind this. This further startled an impressionable young man in isle 5, and i admit i was secretly taken with the feeling too, but all were reassured by a returning passenger.

Managed to strike a conversation! Emidio seemed happy to discuss the Tern with me, and i've put a great amount of his observation down in shorthand. Told we're due to arrive at Ravine just some 10 minutes after leaving the tunnel, yet when - varies greatly. Despite being as persistent as i dared, didn't get too much about the dark route we're taking. Hiw can it be that we spend a different time under the peaks QAD and yet make stops with enviable punctuality? My greatest desire is to find any personnel besides the gloomy tea woman, yet not so likely with the Shapes around.

If i am to trust Emidio's words, some of the paper trash rolling under the seats he swears is a rudimentary emdemic life form akin to rootless plants of the west. Still unsure if that's a joke of his.

Page 8 (next to the sketch of a scene) Ravine-Postal 9:50 10:10 Finally back to open sky. Shapes out for a smoke and look almost careless. Sent a postcard back to Society in Jahna. Bought steamed buns of decent taste. Really need to find Emidio and get a good expo for Ravine, but he's nowhere to be found. Way too many insects ouside.

Page 9 10:40 - RvneP -> Cantbank Well, they do talk! Shapes have congratulated me on being through "the worst of it", whatever they meant. Both of them are now quite loud and inconsiderate. A. only laughed when i mentioned his rudeness. I miss the morning quiet.

11:00 Passed a mountain lake which amused us all greatly. At first i thought we're being blinded by the suns, yet the bright shimmer came from dozens of fish, moving through with their sides to the light. A. is particularly taken with the picture.

(next to the sketch) Emidio and the tea maid

Page 10 Spotted Emidio who i started to worry about, since none has seen him since our stop in Ravine. Almost glad to see the tea maid and her cart back in time for the afternoon round.

11:10 - switching tracks? Apparently taking a detour, which everyone is understandable annoyed about. Can't hear even half of the announcement over Shapes as usual. How can M. make so much noise by just walking! Curtains closed back again, so gather i should also walk over and finally as- (text interrupted)

[toggle1-mrfipp]

CSM 192: Asa's Relationship with Morality

The last chapter, and the reactions to the last chapter, have made me think of a very important thing: Asa's morality, or rather, her struggle with morality.

Morality has always been an important aspect of Asa's character, she wants to be a moral and just person, she's quick to judge other people for being immoral, but as we've seen over the series, it's something she's always had trouble dealing with, and there were many times she's failed to be "moral and just": Yuko was a demon-powered school shooter, but she let her go after they had one last laugh because they were friends. At the aquarium, she didn't turn Denji into a weapon because she thought it was wrong, but rather she didn't know if it was right or wrong, and she was more afraid of making a mistake. Joining Fami and the Church was a red flag so massive that even Yoru could see it, yet Asa joined it, paid no attention to everything it was doing (something even Denji was able to see right away), and even after they set the world on Fire, she still hung around Fami who has her "heart in the right place," all so she could be the hero who "saves" Chainsaw Man. When Denji was talking about how his life was ruined and there was no going back, instead of comforting him, she comforts herself, reaffirming she's trying to save him.

Now, we have Denji and Yoru going on a date, and to Yoru, it's fun to gun down random people. She's doing this with a smile on her face, and laughter in her heart, and Denji's reaction to this is rather understated; he's trying to keep her from killing people, he yells at her when she does, but that's really all he's doing about this, he seems more exasperated by her killings than horrified. Clearly, this isn't that big of an issue for them, but according to Yoru, if she killed one more person, thnn Asa's mind would break, so obviously this is a bad thing for her? Right?

Maybe not as much as we think.

When it comes to Asa and morality, I think of that conversation she had with Yoru about Bucky, about how Asa wasn't mortified that she killed Bucky, but rather she was mortified that she was caught killing Bucky, the implication that if Asa could have killed him without her classmates catching her, that she would have done it. While I do feel that Yoru might have a misunderstanding about Asa, especially at that point in the story, I can't help but think she wasn't entirely wrong.

Asa, I feel, is generally a good person, in the same way Denji is, but when it comes to morality, I feel she is sometimes more concerned with looking moral, instead of actually being moral.

It's these thoughts that make me wonder about her future in the story, and how she fits into Denji and Yoru's dynamic. If Asa is a truly morally centric person, than there is simply no way that their behavior can be tolerated by her, but Chainsaw Man is not a series where those kinds of characters thrive. Aki was maybe the most moral character in this series, and look at what happened to him.

Asa's reaction to all of this, when she snaps back, is going to be very telling about her character, and while I've seen people say that she's going to freak out because of all the death Yoru caused, but I think it's going to be that she's jealous that Denji is paying attention to Yoru and not her, because while morality is a large part of Asa's character, her desire to be seen, acknowledged and praised are also important aspects of who she is.

[vanilladollette]

Pleaseee any male x gyeong seok  no one has wrote anything for him with a M reader

Waiting For You

Pairing: Park Gyeong-Seok x Male reader Summary: Park Gyeong-seok, a devoted single father, never considered dating again until he met you, his daughter's daycare teacher, whose kindness and patience gradually broke down his walls, leading him to finally ask you out—only for you to reveal you'd been waiting for him to do so all along.

Word Count: 1.3k

Author's note: none

Gyeong-seok never imagined himself dating again. It wasn't just that he had no time—though, between work and raising his daughter, time was a rare luxury—but because he had convinced himself that no one would want to date a man with a child from a previous relationship.

Not that he blamed them. Dating a single father was a commitment beyond romance; it required patience, understanding, and a willingness to embrace a child who wasn't theirs. Even if he did meet someone who could look past that, would they ever love Na-yeon as much as he did? Could he trust them to stay? To be someone she could rely on?

It was easier not to try. Easier to focus on work and his daughter, to push aside loneliness and tell himself he was fine. He had Na-yeon. That was enough.

At least, that’s what he believed—until he met you.

The decision to enroll Na-yeon in daycare had not been an easy one.

Gyeong-seok had done everything he could to balance work and fatherhood, but there came a point where he had to admit that it was becoming too difficult. Bringing Na-yeon to work had been an option for a while, but it became clear that watching over her while managing his duties was stretching him thin. He needed help.

That was how he found himself sitting in front of a desk, filling out forms with tired but steady hands, occasionally glancing at his daughter as she clung to his arm. She was still young—barely four—but observant. She could tell something was changing, and she wasn't sure how to feel about it.

“You’ll be coming here during the day from now on,” Gyeong-seok explained softly, turning to her once the paperwork was done. He smoothed a hand over her dark hair, his heart twisting at the slight pout on her lips. “Appa has to work, but I’ll come pick you up every afternoon, okay? You’ll make lots of friends here.”

Na-yeon pressed her lips together, clearly considering his words before looking around. “Are you staying, too?”

“No, sweetheart.” He exhaled quietly. “But I’ll always come back.”

She didn’t look convinced.

That was when you entered the room.

“Na-yeon, right?” you said with a warm smile, crouching down to her level. “I heard we have a new friend joining us today.”

Na-yeon eyed you warily at first, her small hand tightening around Gyeong-seok’s sleeve. She didn’t trust easily, not when it came to new environments, but you had a certain warmth about you.

“You know,” you added conspiratorially, “I happen to know where we keep the best toys. And the snacks. But I only share them with my favorite people.”

That earned you a reluctant stare, then a small, curious glance toward her father. Gyeong-seok gave her an encouraging nod.

“You can go with him, sweetheart. It’s okay.”

After another moment’s hesitation, she slowly let go of his sleeve, allowing you to take her hand instead.

That was the first time Gyeong-seok noticed the way his heart beat just a little differently when he looked at you.

It became routine.

Every morning, Gyeong-seok would drop Na-yeon off before heading to work, and every afternoon, he would return to pick her up.

At first, it was simple exchanges—short greetings, polite smiles. But as time passed, the conversations became longer. Some mornings, when Na-yeon was feeling extra clingy, you would help soothe her with a gentle voice and a distraction. Other times, when Gyeong-seok arrived in the afternoons, you would tell him little stories about her day, how she had made a new friend or insisted on only eating the strawberry-flavored snacks.

It didn’t take long for him to realize that you genuinely cared. Not just as part of your job, but because you truly enjoyed working with children.

And—though he wouldn’t admit it out loud—he found himself looking forward to those moments with you.

Sometimes, work kept him late.

He hated those days the most—knowing that Na-yeon would be waiting for him, that she might feel abandoned even though he tried his best. But every time he arrived late, breathless with apology, he always found you waiting with her.

You never left her alone.

“She’s been fine,” you would assure him with an easy smile, even as Na-yeon clung to his leg and buried her face into his pants. “We read some extra stories while we waited.”

It should have been a simple kindness, but to Gyeong-seok, it meant more than he could say.

Maybe that was when his resolve started to crack.

Maybe that was when he started to hope.

Gyeong-seok wasn’t sure when it started—when his thoughts began lingering on you even after he left the daycare, when he started noticing the way his heart felt lighter in your presence.

It could have been the way you were always patient with Na-yeon, never treating her like a burden. Or the way you smiled when you talked about her progress, proud as if she were your own. Maybe it was the way you waited for them on the days he was late, never complaining, never making him feel worse than he already did.

Whatever it was, it snuck up on him.

And now, he was standing outside the daycare with his hands stuffed into his pockets, trying to ignore the nervous thrum in his chest.

Today, for once, he wasn’t late. He had made sure to wrap up his work early, determined to pick Na-yeon up on time. But even as he walked inside and found her coloring with the other children, his focus was on you.

This was ridiculous. He was a grown man—a father. He wasn’t some shy teenager trying to ask his crush out for the first time. And yet, as you approached with your usual warm smile, he found himself hesitating.

“She had a good day,” you told him, nodding toward Na-yeon. “She was a little quiet this morning, but she opened up after storytime. Oh, and she insisted I save her an extra strawberry snack for tomorrow.”

Gyeong-seok huffed a soft laugh. “That sounds like her.”

You chuckled, then glanced at him, head tilting slightly. “You okay? You look like you have something on your mind.”

Damn. You were too perceptive.

Gyeong-seok inhaled sharply, glancing away for a moment before finally gathering his courage. “I was wondering… if you’d like to get dinner sometime. With me.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then, your eyebrows lifted slightly, surprise flickering across your face before your lips curled into a small, knowing smile. “Oh?”

He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I know I’m not exactly… the most ideal person to ask out. I have a daughter. My schedule is unpredictable. I probably won’t be the easiest person to date. But I—I like you.” His voice was steady despite the nervous edge in his stomach. “And I’d like to take you out, if you’re interested.”

For a moment, you just looked at him, your expression unreadable.

Then, you grinned.

“You know, I was starting to think you’d never ask.”

Gyeong-seok blinked. “You—what?”

You shrugged, amusement dancing in your eyes. “I like you too, Gyeong-seok. And yeah, I’d love to have dinner with you.”

His heart did something strange in his chest—something warm, something unfamiliar. Relief mixed with something dangerously close to happiness.

Na-yeon suddenly tugged at his sleeve, looking up at him with curious eyes. “Appa, can we have strawberries for dinner?”

You laughed, and the sound was enough to make his decision feel even more right.

“Well,” you said, glancing between the two of them, “how about we start with dinner first, and then maybe—just maybe—I’ll tell you where to get the best strawberry desserts in the city?”

Na-yeon’s eyes widened with excitement. “Really? Appa, can we?”

Gyeong-seok chuckled, finally allowing himself to smile fully. He met your gaze, something unspoken passing between you.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “That sounds perfect.”

[tgmsunmontue]

Season to Taste - 42/42

Explicit Hangster - Celebrity Chef Bradley and Naval Aviator Jake Seresin who have a relationship spanning the globe before they realize how tightly bound they are to one another.

PROLOGUE/1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 (interlude) 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 (interlude) 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 (interlude) 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 (interlude) 41

CHAPTER FORTYTWO

                “I don’t care about the weather ruining the day Maria. As long as Leo and I am married then I consider the day a success. Mission accomplished.”

                Jake is quite frankly sick of talking about nothing but the wedding. Reassuring his sisters, Silvia, and Vi that he doesn’t care if they end up getting married in a fucking barn. However, he guesses he should have listened and answered some of their questions more clearly, because it’s come back and bit him on the ass. Or come home to roost as Phoenix has gleefully pointed out.

                “I’m not spending the night before our wedding day apart. We spend too many of our days and nights apart as it it…”

                “It’s bad luck!”

                “It’s bullshit is what it is. We’re doing this together and this is just… making it very very public.”

                He doesn’t care about the photographers and cameras that will be there, he cares that Leo will be there, and as if summoned by mere thought he’s there and Jake reaches for him.

                “Come here…” Leo says, and he’s wrapping his arms around Jake’s waist, nuzzling into the crook of Jake’s neck and Jake knows exactly what he’s doing, which is distracting him and calming him down all at once. “Jake’s right, I already talked to Olivia and Nicola. We aren’t spending the night apart beforehand.”

                “Fine,” Maria huffs, and she stalks off and Jake lets himself slump again Leo a little, because of course his sisters will respect what Leo wants but try and browbeat Jake, despite it being his fucking wedding.

                “Just a couple more days and it’ll all be over and we’ll be on a beach lying in the sun…”

                “Yeah. You in nothing but a swimsuit for an entire two weeks. Definitely looking forward to that…”

                “Who says I need a swimsuit? It’s a private beach.”

                “Ugh. Killing me…”

                “What a way to go,” Leo says with a laugh and Jake laughs with him.

…            …            …

                The rehearsal and dinner go off without any problem, and it’s loud and chaotic and Jake is so glad his Italian is as good as it is, because he understands what everyone is saying. Mostly. Because he’s the asshole Jake knows and loves, Leo has taken to switching to French whenever he doesn’t want Jake to know what he’s talking about, which Vi, Leandro and Silvia all speak perfectly fluently as well.

                They’ve just finished practicing their first dance, led by Jake seeing as he actually had to learn when he was at USNA, and Jake shakes his head as Leo starts a rapid fire conversation in French and Jake pulls a face and rolls his eyes, catches Leo’s quick glance and pokes his tongue out. He gets a quick kiss pressed to his cheek, later murmured in his ear and he shakes his head and decides to go and annoy Leo’s other parental figures.

                Maverick is standing beside Admiral call me Tom Kazansky, and they’re both looking emotional, but then again it seems par for the course recently, everyone’s emotions close to the surface. They’re having the ceremony as early in the day as possible to allow for the hope that his mom will be less confused, but he’s also prepared himself for the scenario where she simply cannot attend.

                “Maverick. Admiral.”

                Admiral Kazansky lets out a tired sigh, he finally seems to have given up trying to get Jake to call him anything less formal, and Maverick also seems to get a kick out of it. He wonders when Admiral Kazansky will click that Jake is now doing it more to be a bit of an ass than anything else.

                “Hangman… you. The. Uh. The dance song. Did… you choose that?”

                “No. Leo wanted it.”

                “Oh…”

                “What?”

                “Did Bradley tell you why he wanted that song?”

                Jake hears Maverick’s voice crack, then the cough to clear it.

                “No. He didn’t…” he’s about to ask why it’s significant, but like Leo has pointed out, he’s smart about the important stuff. He knows without asking that this song was part of Leo’s parents’ wedding ceremony in some way, maybe their first dance song as well. Sneaky asshole.

                “Excuse me Mav, Admiral. I need to go and talk to someone…”

…            …            …

                Bradley wakes up with Jake pressed along his back. In deference to the fact that it was the night before their wedding they had let themselves be booked into a little boutique hotel. Vi told him in no uncertain terms that he wasn’t going to be cooking the morning of his wedding when he’d moaned about there not being a kitchen. He turns in the bed to face Jake, kisses him slowly and sweetly to wake him, grins against the answering smile he feels appear.

                “Morning.”

                “Morning.”

                They keep kissing, fingers trailing over bare skin and Bradley wonders if they’re going to have time for anything before they’re meant to be up. It’s still early though, and they’d definitely made time last night, leaving early despite the catcalls. Jake had seemed a little preoccupied but happy, and Bradley’s pretty sure he could have been described the same way.

                “Happy wedding day…”

                “Yeah… going to make it happier?”

                “Of course,” Bradley laughs, licking over Jake’s collar bone and inhaling deeply, smelling the peppermint-rosemary-green-tea of his own body wash that Jake now exclusively uses, regardless of whether he’s deployed or at home and it reminds him of what he got made. “Wait, wait… I got you something…”

                “You got me a present?” Jake asks, pulling back to judge him, one eyebrow going up and Bradley can’t help smirking, feeling smug. Because he has, but it’s not just for Jake. Neither is the other little surprise he has planned. “You… of course you did. What did you make me this time?”

                “I didn’t make anything. I had an idea and got in touch with the company and… well. Here. Open it.”

                He hands the bottle over. It’s the same brand of body wash that Bradley has been using for years; sent to him to try out for free years ago, and to feature on one of the shows. The particular scent of peppermint-rosemary-green-tea had touted itself as reducing stress, and Vi had told him he needed it. Now it reminds him of a lot more, so many moments with Jake. However he misses the citrus undertone of Jake’s old bodywash, smelling that sharp sweetness mixed with the mint and he watches as Jake flips the lid open.

                “It smells…” Jake frowns. “It’s like you’ve mixed your body wash with my old one…”

                “Yeah. Probably a bit more complicated than that, but that’s pretty much what I asked them to do,” Bradley says, and he goes back to placing a trail of kisses up Jake’s neck, the smell of the open bottle tickling his nose and he knows this moment is going to be a new scent memory and he breathes in deep.

                “You… got us a bespoke body wash?”

                “Yeah. Want to go try it out?” Bradley asks, pulling back to grin at him.

                “Oh… yeah. Fuck yeah.”

                They keep kissing as the shower warms up; he hasn’t had a chance to look at the time, but at least he and Jake don’t have hair and make-up to worry about. It feels early enough. Phoenix and Vi both had muttered about unreasonably early starts, and Jake’s sisters are also getting everything done. He’s glad he only has to worry about shaving and doing his hair, knows Vi will have opinions regardless. Does even when there is a team of makeup and hair artists working on him.

                Jake is grabbing supplies from his toiletry bag, grumbling under his breath about having to stay away from home the night before his own wedding and Bradley laughs, catching his mouth in a kiss as he takes the lube from Jake’s fingers, wants Jake’s hands on him instead. They don’t have infinite time; he knows Vi won’t hesitate in barging in if they don’t keep to the timeline she’d pressed into their hands two days ago. Fortunately, he’s pretty sure this won’t take long.

                After years together they know each other’s bodies intimately, how to get each other off as quickly as possible, and how to drag it out and make it really good. Jake has treated it like a job to learn all of Bradley’s little quirks, ones he himself didn’t know he had, and he loves Jake more every day for it. He pushes his ass against Jake’s cock, lets his head tip back so Jake can lick at his neck.

                “Can’t wait to marry you…” Jake murmurs, and his fingers are already slippery with lube, slipping between his ass cheeks and Bradley lets his eyes fall closed and just relax into the sensation. “Getting to call you my husband.” He’s still a little loose from last night, when he’d insisted on Jake fucking him just in case they slept in today or ran out of time. He should have known that wasn’t going to happen, not with how early Jake rises, but still.

                “Yeah…” Bradley murmurs, because it’s the same for him. They’ve had quiet conversations in the dark and feel the same about so many things, fingers tracing over ring fingers and pulse points. And right now pressing lube into him.

                “You want me to wear a condom? Or you want to have my come dripping out of you all day?”

                “Jesus Jake…”

                “Or I could just pull out and come all over your ass…”

                “Yeah. Yeah. That…” Bradley breathes, because he also doesn’t want Jake to leave him to go and hunt out a condom. He groans then, breath catching as Jake just slides into him. It’s tight, just the way he likes, the fine line between pleasure-pain as Jake presses into him, fingers of one hand digging into his hip, the other wrapped around Bradley’s cock, not yet doing anything other than hold him proprietarily. His mouth and teeth are on Bradley’s neck and shoulders, stubble scraping against skin already sensitive from last night.

                He braces his forearms against the wall, spreads his legs further apart and pushes back, a little gasp escaping as Jake pulls out a little and then fucks straight back into him sharply. Jake’s groans make his own cock jerk and that’s what get Jake’s hand moving, a rhythm he’s perfected while he fucks Bradley. He mixes it up depending on what he’s aiming for; and Bradley knows better than to reach down and touch himself. Jake will tell him if he’s allowed, has never failed to make it good for him. Sometimes turning him around and dropping to his knees and sucking Bradley down until he can’t take it anymore or dragging it out and edging him for fucking days; the resulting orgasm bringing him to tears and scream-sobs of pleasure.

                He can count the number of times he’s fucked Jake on one hand. Past the first time he’s never felt the urge, more than content to have Jake’s body covering him, holding him, pressing into him. The few times Jake has asked, and Bradley uses the term ask very loosely, it’s been intense, sure Jake was going to shake apart, certain he was going to halt Bradley in the act. The most recent time had been about ten weeks post mission, and Bradley is fairly certain Jake was trying to chase away the fact that he had almost died by reaffirming their own connection.

                “Leo… you with me?”

                The hand on his cock is tight, Jake grinding up against him and Bradley’s attention snaps back to the present, the realization that this is the last time they’re having sex as un-married men and he lets out a little half-hysterical breath and nods, his breath coming in hot hard pants, mixing with the steam from the water.

                “Jake… yeah… yeah… come on…”

                “Fuck I love you…”

                Bradley laughs again, because Jake sounds almost angry about it as his hips slap against Bradley’s ass, then he’s shifting slightly. Bradley swears under his breath, the head of Jake’s cock now incessantly pushing, dragging over Bradley’s prostate with every thrust of Jake’s hips. The hand on his cock has sped up and his entire body is lighting up with all-over shiver-tingles, nerve endings all alive and he groans, so close to coming, his gut and balls tight with anticipation. He’s repeating Jake’s name over and over like a mantra, then the fingers digging into his hip are gone, and he knows Jake is jerking himself off frantically. Feels the hot splatter of come on his lower back, Jake’s teeth in his shoulder, his groan vibrating against his back and he lets out a whine.

                Then Jake’s kissing what is undoubtedly going to be a bite mark, and there are fingers pressing back inside him, seeking with practiced precision and –

                “Jesus fucking Christ Jake…”

                “Yeah… come on. You can come for me now…”

                He shudders apart at the request-command, Jake’s hand working his cock and fingers inside him and he knows when his knees go from beneath him Jake will be there to catch him.

…            …            …

                “Oh for fucks sake… you’ve both got beard burn. This is why you should have spent the night apart…”

                “Pretty sure you don’t want us fucking each other in the aisle…”

                “You wouldn’t.”

                “You willing to risk it?” Jake asks and Bradley snorts in amusement.

                Vi rolls her eyes and scoffs, and she looks stunning in her burnt-orange off-the-shoulder dress, dark curls pinned artfully on top of her head.

                “You look beautiful…”

                “Grazie. Vorrei poter dire lo stesso…”

                “Fuck you too…” Bradley says with a laugh and Jake is laughing as well and he’s so glad that Jake can understand Italian now.

                “He’s plenty beautiful,” Jake murmurs, giving him a wink and Bradley knows he’s blushing, can’t hide how Jake makes him feel even if he wanted to.

                “Ugh. I can’t even with you two. Not on your wedding day. Here. I got you both something…”

                Then she’s shoving little boxes at them and Bradley takes it with curiosity.

                “You got us…”

                “Cufflinks… oh my god. It’s… are they F-18s?” Jake asks, and of course he’s already well ahead of Bradley, opened his and looking at them closely with a wide grin on his face. Bradley snaps his little box open and stares at the tiny golden whisk and knife crossed over each other.

                “Grazie Vi…”

                “Mmm. Now do something sappy like swap one with each other and there, you’ve got something new and something borrowed…”

                Jake mumbles under his breath about superstitious bullshit, but his fingers work effortlessly to remove Bradley’s plain cufflinks and replace them with one each of their new pairs, before he places a kiss on the side of face and he turns his head to capture his mouth in a proper kiss, although not a long one because he doesn’t trust Vi to not kick them both in the shin.

                “Right. You now both look… ready to get married. Jake, Javy is waiting for you downstairs. We’re doing the illusion of you seeing each other for the first time. Try and look like you’re in love… oh… huh. You won’t have a problem.”

                “I’d hope not.”

…            …            …

                It’s obviously not the first time he’s seen Leo today, but it is the first time they’ve locked eyes with the intention, knowing they’re walking toward each other. Their aisle song had been some song that both he and Leo had agreed on, from a list made by Maria, but played by a string quartet; it had sounded good. Fine. Neither of them had had an opinion. Until last night when he’d pivoted and likely caused Maria and the string quartet more stress. However this is better, an instrumental version of the same song that Bradley had asked for as their first dance song.

                As the music starts playing he pauses and waits, wonders if Leo will notice the change, and he does. Jake is watching him closely enough as they walk toward one another that he catches the falter in his step as he notices the tune, his mouth dropping open slightly as he registers. Then his lips go flat and Jake can see the trembling of Leo’s chin and fuck, he’s crying, but okay, no, he’s also smiling, a little shaky, but Jake knows he’s done a good job as they get closer.

                They’re both in dark blue, bespoke suits he has no idea when he’ll wear it again. However he doesn’t care, because Leo looks stunningly gorgeous and happy as he walks toward Jake. Then they’re standing face to face and he reaches for Leo’s hands, brings them up and presses a kiss to the knuckles of each hand.

                “You asshole…” Leo breathes and it just makes Jake grin wider, because his words might be saying one thing, but his eyes, the look on his face, they say something completely different.

                “You could have told me…” Jake says under his breath.

                “I… I didn’t want to say anything. How did you… Did someone tell you?”

                “I figured it out…”

                “Smart…”

                “Mmm. I mean. Maverick was sort of emotional about the song choice, so I did have a hint that maybe the song was more important than you let on…”

                “I didn’t want to make you have a song you didn’t like…”

                Jake rolls his eyes and shakes his head minutely, because they’ve gone over this before but he’s suddenly aware that they’re having this conversation in the aisle of their wedding and everyone is waiting on them, and Leo seems to have the same realization.

                “It’s beautiful. Thank you.”

                “I love you. Ready to get hitched?”

                “More than ready.”

…            …            …

                Apart from the little stolen moments everything seems to blur, but he tries to set in amber the moments he wants to really remember. Seeing Leo for the first time, linking fingers as they turned to walk down the aisle together, the officiant welcoming everyone, Vi doing a reading and speaking about having a front row seat to their developing relationship.

                His mom as she sits beside his dad, it isn’t a good or great day for her, she’s a little confused but she knows what a wedding is and recognizes Leo; has had time to watch the small collection of videos so she knows she’s a guest of honor. It’s enough, and the fact that she’s here at all is something he’s grateful for, the earlier hour of the ceremony meaning she won’t be as tired, and then the lunch celebrations which are just going to roll into an all-night party.

                As they read their vows with shiny-wet eyes he knows that someone is translating them into Italian for over half the guests, little headphones pressed to ears so they can follow what is being said. Then he’s taking rings from Javy and holding Leo’s hand in his, the officiant looking between them.

                “Jake, repeat after me. I take you, Leonardo Bradley Bradshaw Gallo…”

                There’s a sob from the crowd and Jake turns, notes that Leo does as well. Sitting beside Admiral Kazansky and Maverick, Leandro has gone pale, is now crying along with Silvia and okay, Jake’s clearly not the only one in the dark with this little surprise and he turns to Leo and shakes his head a little. Asshole he mouths and he didn’t think Leo could look happier, but his grin widens, eyes glint with mischief and Jake’s entire life feels perfect.

                “I take you Leonardo Bradley Bradshaw Gallo,” he repeats dutifully.

                “To be my lawfully wedded husband.”

                “To be my lawfully wedded husband.”

…            …            …

                He doesn’t have a chance to bring it up, there are so many people. It’s family, and the Dagger squad, and Jake did not expect for there to be so many brass at his wedding. The fact that they’re there as Leo’s side of the family is wild, and he wonders if this is what it would be like marrying into some type of royalty. There’s so many photographers he knows he’s going to be so grateful for them capturing lots of moments he will either forget or simply won’t get to see. Lincoln dumping the rose petals in a single move by overturning the basket. Lincoln’s younger sister then sitting down and picking them all up and placing them back into her basket. Little anecdotes he’s heard from his sisters throughout the day.

                He never thought about his wedding day, but he can’t imagine it getting better than this. The small details don’t matter, it’s the big things, like the happiness and love he just feels surrounded by. The combination of English and Italian which all just blur together now.

                The food is of course plentiful and amazing, and Jake isn’t sure, but he thinks they may have shut the restaurants down for a week and pulled all the staff here. And because his husband loves him there are little bottles of sauce on every table; every single member of the Dagger squad finds him to give him shit about it personally, however they also congratulate him and Leo. The number of admirals who have congratulated him has started to make him sweat, a little panicky because while no one is in uniform they’re still admirals.

                Clearly Leo picks up on something because he drags Jake off to the house, has clearly given instructions that they’re not to be interrupted and Leo drops to his knees and sucks him off to distract him, not wasting any time and not wanting any type of reciprocation because he likes drawing out his own arousal. That’ll be fun for both of them later. He’s fucking perfect for him.

                “Fuck, getting too old for that. Need a cushion for my knees.”

                “Serves you right…” Jake mutters, although he already has plans for them to have a bath together later. Relax and sleep. First though, he has a bone to pick now that they have a moment alone and he’s not getting a blowjob. “You changed your name.”

                “Well, figured I’d be changing it anyway. So might as well go the whole way. Make it a five-barrel abomination…”

                “You ever thought of double-barreling the last name Gallo and Seresin?”

                “Uh… no.”

                “Well. Maybe we should talk about that. And if I had Gallo as well maybe Hangman would get a different meaning…”

                “Yeah? You’d want that?”

                “Well, pretty sure my reputation as a complete asshole is completely shot to hell after today…”

                “Yeah, it was definitely today that did it,” Leo says with a grin and Jake shoves him playfully, aware that he probably has a point. He’s always made it known that he had a soft spot for his family and boyfriend. Husband.

                “Come on, we’re meant to be the guests of honor.”

                “I wasn’t the one that needed to be distracted.”

                “I thought all that was because you can’t keep your hands off me.”

                “Mmm. True. Just a happy coincidence that it also distracted you then…”

                “So happy…” Jake says, and he knows Leo understands him without spelling it out any further.

…            …            …

                Despite their years together they’ve never managed to spend time in Italy together. It was something they had both agreed on immediately, a ten-day honeymoon in Italy. Private house, private beach. Big kitchen. Pool. No need to wear clothes, maybe just an apron when he’s cooking, which he knows Jake loves. It reminds him a little of their first chunk of time they spent together, when they’d both been circling around each other uncertain about what they were doing. He’s so glad he trusted his gut all those years ago.

                Right now Jake’s swimming laps, his wry comment about how if he’s going to be doing nothing but eat Bradley’s food for ten days he needs to ensure he’s still fit enough to work. Bradley had simply said it sounded like a him problem, that he’d be in the kitchen. He’s made fresh pasta for later, as well as some dough for bread rolls. He’s not meant to be working on a new book, but he finds himself scribbling down some ideas anyway, startles a little when he feels a much cooler body press up against his bare back.

                “Hey…”

                “Hi. Mmm. Smells good.”

                “I haven’t even made anything…”

                “Wasn’t talking about food…” Bradley laughs, twists around so he can get a proper kiss, feels Jake’s arm go around his waist. “Why do people write that?”

                “Write what?” Bradley asks, not quite sure what Jake is talking about, then sees Jake’s hand pressing his scrappy notebook open.

                “Season to taste… surely people are going to do that anyway right?”

                Bradley laughs, turns around so he can kiss him more easily.

                “Yeah. You’d think so. But some people are sticklers for following a recipe. So it’s like a little addendum. Season to taste… make it perfect for how you want it.”

                “Huh. So that’s what I’ve been doing all along with my ketchup then?”

                Bradley opens his mouth to argue, closes it again.

                Jake has a point.

                An annoying one.

                He’s lucky Bradley loves him.

                “Yeah. You’ve been making it perfect all along.”

--- THE END ---

Their aisle song - instrumental of their first dance song.

Thanks for coming on the journey with me. It's posting on AO3 if you want to go and bookmark it, or re-read it with chapters going up Mon-Wed-Thurs.

I've also got two one-shots planned, which is why I have made it a series on AO3, so feel free to subscribe to the series there if you want to be notified of those updates. 👌

🌻🌻🌻

[ldr13beaches]

𝓗𝓪𝓻𝓻𝔂 𝓛𝓮𝔀𝓲𝓼 𝔁 𝓨/𝓝- 𝓒𝓪𝓼𝓾𝓪𝓵?

Harry Lewis let out a deep sigh as he slumped down into his chair at the table, surrounded by the rest of the Sidemen—JJ, Simon, Ethan, Tobi, Josh, and Vik. The music thumped in the background, but his focus was elsewhere.

Then, the door opened, and you walked in. Faith was on one arm, Freya on the other, both of them laughing and chatting with you. Harry’s gaze snapped up, his eyes immediately landing on you. He watched you for a second, taking you in from head to toe.

You smiled as you approached, your eyes catching his, and you waved a greeting to the guys.

"Hey," you called out with a grin, your steps smooth and easy as you made your way toward the table.

Harry's lips twitched into a faint smile, and without breaking his gaze, he patted the empty seat beside him. “Sit here,” he said, grinning. 

You raised an eyebrow at him, a playful smile tugging at your lips. "Hiya," you greeted, settling into the chair.

His eyes flicked over you once more, a smirk curling up at the corners of his mouth. 

“What?” you echoed, a small laugh escaping your lips.

"Just… taking in the view," he said, his smirk growing wider.

You rolled your eyes. "Ha-ha,” you replied sarcastically.

He laughed, the sound light but genuine. 

The rest of the Sidemen exchanged knowing glances, grins tugging at their lips. It wasn’t exactly a secret that you two, despite being friends liked to flirt. You both shared a back-and-forth that everyone was used to by now.  

Harry leaned back in his chair, arms folded across his chest, still watching you as if you were the only person in the room. The rest of the guys made their usual jokes about how long it was taking for you two to finally get together, but neither of you really paid attention. You’d heard it all before.

The night carried on, the usual banter and chaos of the Sidemen setting the tone. But despite the distractions your focus kept drifting back to Harry. It was like he had a magnetic pull, always there, always in your orbit, even in a room full of people.

Every now and then, you’d catch him looking at you with that half-smile, like he knew something you didn’t. But it wasn't just the looks. It was the way he'd sit closer to you than others, the subtle touches, a hand on your back, or a brush of his fingers against yours. 

The music continued to play, the bar filled with laughter and chatter. Harry, however, remained focused on you. He was trying to act nonchalant, but the way he kept glancing at you gave him away.

As you laughed at something JJ said, Harry couldn't help but watch. Your smile, your laugh, they were addictive, like some kind of drug. But he forced himself to look away, you were just his close friend, nothing more. Right? He leaned back in his chair, trying to appear casual, though he couldn't stop his eyes from drifting back to you.

Simon, sitting next to Harry, noticed his friend's distracted gaze. He smirked and nudged Harry's shoulder.

“You’re staring,” he said, his tone teasing.

Harry immediately snapped out of his thoughts and turned to Simon, his expression betraying his embarrassment for being caught looking.

"I'm not," he said defensively.

Simon snickered, not buying it for a second. "Yeah, right," he replied. "You were straight up gawking at her."

Harry rolled his eyes and chuckled lightly, Simon knew him too well. He knew there was no point in denying it.

"Alright, maybe I was," he admitted, a slight smirk playing on his lips. "Happy now?"

Simon grinned, clearly enjoying his friend's moment of weakness. He knew Harry was usually so good at covering his emotions, so seeing him crack a little was rare.

"Very," he replied, still grinning. "It's about time you stop denying it, mate. Everyone knows you're head over heels for her."

Harry's glare intensified as he nudged Simon's arm, signalling for him to lower his voice. He didn't need you heating the conversation. 

"Say it louder why don’t you.” He grumbled. Their conversation is interrupted by one of the waiters doing the rounds asking your table what they want to drink. 

The waiter was quite tall, with messy brown hair that had a natural tousled look to it. Freya smirks and raises her eyebrows at you playfully. The waiter smiled at you, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary as he filled your order. Despite his attractive appearance, there was something about him that seemed a bit smug. 

Harry noticed the subtle smirk on the waiter's face. It only fuelled his jealousy further. He knew the waiter was flirting with you, and he didn't like it at all.

He took another sip of his drink, still watching you and the waiter's interaction. He felt a pang of irritation seeing the waiter's gaze linger on you, the knowledge that he was interested in you was killing him. 

It got late and the group started to leave the bar. Harry's mood was sour. He could feel his frustration bubbling up inside him, and he couldn't quite pinpoint why he was so irritated. 

He was silent for most of the walk to the car park, his gaze fixed straight ahead as he followed the group. Occasionally, he'd cast a quick, slightly frustrated glance in your direction, his jaw clenched tight.

As you cast a quick look over your shoulder at Harry, he met your gaze. For a brief moment, his irritation softened as he met your eyes. The look on your face was confused, and he knew you were probably wondering why he was acting so strangely.

Harry's mood didn't improve much as you both walked back towards the car park. He was still in a foul mood, and he wasn't hiding it well. It was obvious something was bothering him.

As you walked through the car park to say farewell to the rest of the group, Harry walked alongside you in silence. His face was expressionless, and he seemed distant, lost in his own thoughts. He gave the other boys a half-hearted wave as they got into their cars, but his focus was entirely on you.

As everyone leaves you look at him and frown. “Alright Harry what the fuck is up with you?”

Harry's demeanour didn't change as you questioned him, his expression still cold and tense. He kept his gaze fixed straight ahead, avoiding eye contact with you.

"Nothing's up," he responded, his tone gruff. "I'm fine."

He was lying, of course. But he didn't want to admit what was eating at him. He was too prideful to show weakness.

As you both walked down the street, towards your respective flats, which were conveniently located on the same street near the bar, Harry continued to keep his distance, his steps heavy and unenthusiastic. He still hadn't dropped his cold, expressionless demeanour, and it was clear he was still troubled by something but too stubborn to talk about it.

Rain started to fall heavily, the soft pitter-patter on the pavement suddenly creating a somber atmosphere. You groaned at the sudden downpour, while Harry simply let out a gruff sigh.

He had his hands shoved in his pockets, his face slightly shielded by the rain-soaked fabric of his sweatshirt. He glanced over at you, noticing your annoyed expression.

"Great timing," he muttered sarcastically.

“Oh my! I just realised… the weather is matching your mood!” You say sarcastically. 

Harry let out a sharp scoff at your comment, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"Very funny," he replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You're just full of useful comments tonight, aren't you?"

“Jesus what is your problem?? You were fine earlier, who shoved a stick up your ass?” You glare, raising your voice. 

Harry's expression darkened further at your words. Your raised voice surprised him, and he turned to face you fully, his gaze intense and almost angry. You’d never seen him this way. In fact the pair of you have never argued before, despite knowing one another for 10+ years.

"Fucking hell, you just don’t get it do you?” He yells. 

“No Harry, I don’t. But please do tell me, cause if it’s something I’ve done I’d really like to fucking know.”  

He ran a hand through his damp hair, frustrated and annoyed with himself.

"It's not... you..." he started, his voice quieter than before. "It's just... fuck I don't know. Can we just get to my flat first?"

“Harry just fucking say it!!!” You groan in frustration. 

Your plea for clarification seemed to hit a nerve, and Harry's frustration boiled over. He took a deep breath, his hands clenched into tight fists in his pockets.

"It’s not what you've done, it's what you haven't done," he replied, his voice low and gravelly. "You haven't done anything, and that's the problem. You're so damn oblivious, it's infuriating."

Harry's mind was racing, his emotions warring inside of him. The rain continued to fall around them, adding to the heavy atmosphere.*

"You drive me crazy, you know that? You just have no idea frustrating you are!"

He ran a hand through his messy hair, his gaze locked relentlessly on you. His chest heaved as he spoke, a mixture of anger and something else, something deeper, filling his expression as you look up at him confused and upset. 

Harry stood there, rain dripping off his face, staring at you with an intensity that was almost too much to handle. For a second, everything around you seemed to fade—just the two of you, in the middle of a downpour, standing face to face with all this unspoken tension hanging in the air.

His voice broke the silence, quieter this time, almost hesitant.

“You… you really don’t get it, do you?”

You blinked, momentarily thrown off by the shift in his tone. There was something softer in his voice now, the anger and frustration from earlier melting into something else—something deeper. Something you hadn’t expected.

“What don’t I get?” You frowned, trying to process what he was saying.

Harry exhaled through his nose, running a hand through his hair again, as if trying to calm himself. He stepped closer, his shoes squelching in the rain-soaked pavement, and for a second, the space between you seemed impossibly small.

“You and me… It’s always been there. All the stupid back-and-forth, all the flirting… it’s not just for fun, is it?”

Your heart skipped a beat, and suddenly, the world felt a little too small. He was so close now, and the realization hit you like a punch to the gut.

“What do you mean?” You swallowed, not sure if you even wanted to hear the answer, though a part of you did.

Harry sighed, his face unreadable, but his eyes intense. He seemed to be struggling with himself, his fingers fidgeting in his pockets as if the words were stuck somewhere deep down.

“I mean…” His voice trailed off for a second, and then he just said it, almost too fast, like he needed to get it out. “I mean, I don’t know what the hell I’m doing anymore. But I can’t keep pretending that I don’t care about you, and I can’t keep watching you flirt with anyone except me.”

Your chest tightened, and you weren’t sure if it was the rain or the vulnerability in his voice, but something about the way he said it made you feel like the ground underneath you had shifted.

“Harry…” You started, your voice barely above a whisper. "You… you can’t just—"

“I can,” he cut you off, his gaze unwavering now. “And I will. I’ve been a bloody idiot about this. I’ve danced around it for so long, and I’m just… I’m done.”

His words hung in the air, the space between you two now filled with a tension so thick, it felt almost suffocating. You stared at him for a moment, struggling to find the right response, you were both shit with your feelings. 

“Why now?” You finally said, your voice barely audible above the sound of the rain. "Why after all this time, Harry?”

He didn’t hesitate, his eyes softening as he took a step closer, and then another, until the distance between you was almost non-existent.

“Because I’ve spent so many years pretending it didn’t matter… pretending I didn’t care that much, but I do care.” He exhaled sharply, almost laughing at himself, the sound dark but bitter. “And it does matter. You matter, to me.”

You could feel the electricity in the air, a tension that had been building up for years, thick and heavy between you both. The rain poured harder now, the water splashing against the ground as if the world itself was holding its breath. Your heart thudded in your chest, erratic and wild.

Harry reached up, brushing a strand of wet hair from your face, his fingers lingering along your jaw. His touch was tentative at first, almost as if he were afraid you might pull away. But you didn’t. You couldn’t.

Slowly, you reached for him, your hands finding the sides of his wet jacket. You weren’t sure what you were waiting for, maybe just a sign, or the courage to do what you both had wanted for so long. 

And then, as if everything had been leading to this moment, you leaned in. His lips met yours softly, tentatively at first, as though asking for permission. You melted into him, the kiss deepening, the world around you fading into nothing but the feeling of his mouth on yours, the rain drenching you both, turning everything into a blur of sensation. 

There was no more distance between you now. No more unspoken words. Just the pounding of the rain, the beat of your hearts, and the warmth of each other’s presence, as if the storm outside wasn’t the only one in your lives anymore.

When you finally broke the kiss, both of you gasping for air, the world still spun. Harry rested his forehead against yours, your thumb tracing the outline of his damp jaw.

The rain fell harder now, the droplets pounding against the earth, with a rhythmic urgency that seemed to mirror the pounding of your heart. He closed the space between you again. You could feel the slight tremble in his hand as it reached up to your face, his fingers brushing your hair back from your forehead, his touch so gentle it almost felt reverent.

It wasn’t enough. You needed more than that. Slowly, you leaned in, kissing him back, giving him the permission he needed. This time, it was different. There was no holding back. His lips deepened against yours, a tender pressure at first, as though he was still afraid, still unsure, but as the seconds passed, something inside him seemed to release. 

His hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, his other arm wrapping around your waist, drawing you in as though he never wanted to let go. The rain was relentless, soaking through your clothes, but it didn’t matter. His kiss was all that existed. You could taste the rain on his lips, feel the soft pulse of his heart through his chest as it pressed against yours. His mouth moved with growing intensity, tracing the contours of your lips, then slipping deeper, as if he was trying to pour every ounce of everything he’d kept hidden into that kiss.

You slid your hands up his soaked jacket, fingers gripping the fabric like you needed him to stay, needed him to be here in this moment. His tongue brushed against yours, slow at first, as though savoring every touch. It was soft, then hungry, then desperate, as if both of you were trying to make up for lost time.

You pressed yourself against him, letting the kiss grow deeper, more urgent, as the tension that had been building for so long between you both seemed to spill out. 

[alice-after-dark]

Oh...oh...OP this is delicious.

I never caught that! He doesn't exclaim that Alastor's alive, he says came back. That also puts a different spin on the rest of the conversation too. Valentino says "I thought he was gone for good too" and Vox says that it's been 7 years. This really implies that they know something. They know why Alastor left and they thought that whatever it was was going to keep him away forever. And this highlights the infamous line that has had that fandom confused since episode 2 dropped in the first place.

"Are you still pissed he almost beat you that time?"

So imagine...Vox and Alastor fight or maybe it's a plan from Vox or something, but point is Vox has discovered a way to potentially get rid of Alastor for good. Problem is, Alastor sniffs him out. Maybe he realizes what he's doing or is winning the fight, who knows, but whatever is happening, Vox's plan is not working. Then just as Alastor has Vox cornered, Valentino steps in. Maybe he distracts Alastor long enough for Vox to do whatever he needs to do to grasp victory. And now Alastor is gone or at least in a position where Vox can force him to leave.

But then how does he get around it to return? Well I wonder if Vox wasn't trying to send him somewhere. Purgatory? Another realm? A digital space trap? Whatever the case, Vox clearly didn't expect him to be able to return and Vox's reaction to Valentino telling him this information shows that Valentino should understand the importance of this.

Sorry for the ramble, this got my brain moving in the best way!

Vox knew Alastor wasn’t dead

I was rewatching Hazbin and realized that Vox says, “Alastor came back and he is with Lucifer’s daughter…”

CAME BACK

If he thought Alastor was dead, he would’ve said something like ‘Alastor is alive and he is with Lucifer’s daughter…’

This means he knew Alastor disappeared on purpose. Is it tied to their falling out?

Just saying, what a cute head cannon that two sworn enemies were once best friends and still keep each other’s secrets 🥰

[bucksboobs]

I would say it’s unrealistic to write a fic where Chris comes home after the summer only to find out Buck and Tommy have moved in but then I remembered Eddie canonically asked Marisol to move in within a week of Chris being out of town

[morganbritton132]

Thank you for feeding us with the Steve Has Older Siblings AU. God tier level of characterization I gotta say.

How do the older siblings handle the “Eddie Munson Problem”? I would imagine they actually do try to get rid of him at first given Eddie’s reputation but then realize he treats Steve better than any of them ever have.

Well, there is cash incentive.

Richard Harrington still has aspirations of going into local politics one days and he is not going let Al Munson’s son kill that dream. Or kill their son. Richard waves a dismissive hand in his wife’s direction because, “Of course. Of course. Or that.”

Whoever makes that boy disappear gets five thousand dollars.

(1.)

Claire takes a direct approach. She corners Steve and tells him that Eddie is a drug dealer and a drug user. She tells him about all the scary things that showed up on his toxicology report in the hospital and Steve replied flatly with, “Wow. Crazy. I had no idea.”

“I’m serious,” She says. “You could get hurt with someone like that. Do you know how that would make us feel if something happened to you?

“I fractured my ankle at a track meet once and Dad made me walk to the car afterwards,” Steve replies. “I think you guys will be fine.”

“I’m serious.”

“You know, Claire,” Steve nods to himself because, yeah. Sure. Let’s do it. “How have you felt the last three years? Or, I don’t know. The last two concussions? You have no idea what I’ve been dealing with for years now and – and you’ve never cared so why now? What’s Dad giving you to ruin my life because-“

He shakes his head, “This is not worth it. Like how picking up the phone when the mall caught on fire with me inside it wasn’t worth the effort. Tell Dad you tried really hard, but no. I’m not going to get rid of one of the few people in my life that actually like me.”

(2.)

Jason takes a different – dumber – approach. He goes in with no plan and no intentions, just took the opportunity when he saw Eddie’s van pulled off on the side of a backroad. He bangs his fist against the side and is delighted that he caught Eddie and Steve.

He threatens to beat Eddie up which is bold to say to an accused murderer in the woods, but okay.

Then he turns around and threatens Steve that he’s going to tell their dad that he was getting high in the woods if he doesn’t keep away from trailer trash, but Jason is fucking idiot because they were decidedly not getting high in the woods. He leaves with an eighth of marijuana and  no closer to five thousand dollars because Steve had just shrugged like, “Okay? Go ahead. Tell him.”

(3.)

Richie does not participate in this because he actually wants to improve his relationship with his little brother and he was the first person Steve went to after they got Eddie, barely breathing, to the hospital. He saw how shaken up he was and he also saw the bruising around Steve’s neck.

He knows what the bruising looks like. He knows how people gets bruises like that. And he knows that he’s a coward because he could not bring himself to ask a question he did not want the answer to. And he knows Eddie Munson.

Eddie is harmless.

All you have to do is have one conversation with the kid and you’ll see that he couldn't hurt a fly. Richie, however, had many conversations with him when Harrington & Associates took his case on pro bono so he knows just how harmless Eddie is.

He also knows that Eddie spends a lot of time trying to make Steve laugh. Richie has spent enough time in his life making his brother miserable. He's not doing anymore.

[clowwwnbytes]

slay the princess pristine cut spoilers etc

i was brainstorming with buddies on discord and started thinking about damsel ch3 having the blade with her, already pointed at her heart, then just started thinking about the blade as a tool.

i think about the blade so much. a cold reminder of your mission in this world, something so tiny that represents a huge wall between you, your ability to be willing to understand others, to understand yourself.

if you bring it with you you've chosen to take a defensive stance against something and someone you don't understand, but it's so comforting, it gives you options, it gives you control over any situation given you don't underestimate the person standing in front of you. even when you don't want it, when you think you don't need it, it will come back to you. a nagging feeling. you're given the option to be distrustful even when you don't literally have it in you, it's what you've been taught is safety, it hangs over your head and dangles above your heart at all times.

and in damsel ch3 it goes from a tool given weight by the role you're supposed to play, to the same thing but looming over her this time. the expectations of what you're supposed to want and what's best for the people around you and what keeps you grounded, the narrator sang the same tune before, and he hurt her and he hurt you. he hurt himself and his humanity in the process. and now he's taken the backseat and is forced to see how messed up that is by having the smitten be the one pulling the strings of the construct, someone with a perspective so different, but one that ends up hurting everyone all the same, even if he doesn't intend it to do so.

everyone is forced to look at themselves in the mirror.

carrying that blade is suffocating for anyone.

and now im thinking about mr. "let's throw it out the window" contrarian, the only voice you can bring to her heart along with the hero, someone that refused to engage with the narrative and someone that is well aware that his perspective is annoying and unneeded for its purposes.

and then he meets the whole of her, and she tells him about how his courage is beautiful. he's the part of the long quiet that knowingly or not, is more willing to throw aside any kind of logic in order to understand a situation in a way the rest don't want to, and he's *now* realizing that his existence is an important aspect to have.

[danger-tits-lute]

Lute had been watching from the other side of the table, letting the two of them have their conversation and moment. It was beautiful really, something she hadn't expected and filled her with a sense of hope... for what exactly she didn't know, but there was an air of closure among them.

When Adam fell onto Lucifer, she reached out on impulse but too far away to catch him she could only watch as the King of Hell do it for her. She smiled. This was well worth whatever was waiting for her at the end of her deal with him. Walking over, she looked at the two with a soft smile.

"He kept one of your feathers you know. He has it in his bedside drawer. He thinks I don't know about it but I do." They clearly cared a lot about each other, it was unfortunate things had ended this way between them. Maybe that would change going forward... however minute that might be.

She reached to help Adam up and into a chair for now. She didn't think he much cared where he slept at this point. She was sure any place would be comfortable enough. She ran a hand through his hair, overjoyed to see him finally sleeping. Her fingers trailed down his cheek to hold his face and kiss his forehead before turning back to the Devil.

"I'm ready to complete my end of the deal." Was she scared? A little. But seeing this exchange and giving Adam some peace put her heart at ease. She felt like whatever happened now was an okay price to pay.

@dick-meister

She sits at the conference table in the chair that Adam usually does during these meetings, it feels weird. She looks across the room at Lucifer before clearing her throat nervously and beginning.

“I’m sure you’re wondering why this meeting was called and Adam isn’t the one here. Adam has been dealing with an… unusual situation, shall I say. It seems that some unknown entity has put a spell on him that prevents him from sleeping until a certain requirement is met. That requirement is for a seraphim to apologize to him for… in their words “fucking him over”.”

She looked away from him, talking her mask off.

“I cannot ask that you care about him if you don’t, but if you ever did, I’d greatly appreciate acknowledging his emotions on the obvious subject. It’s been four days and… let’s just say he’s reached unhealthy levels of sleep deprivation.” It’s clear by the look on her face that it pains her to see him this way and that calling this meeting was her last desperate attempt to put her commander back together.

For normal verse Luci

@danger-tits-lute

He has other things he really needed to attend to, there was a wedding he needed to get a gift for , he needs to check in on the pride ring exports and test how the south wall was holding up against the scavengers spotted there, he didn’t have time for whatever Adam deemed as an emergency meeting .

He sighed as he entered the meeting room, gripping his Cane tightly and sitting down with a raised brow as he sees Lute and not Adam.

Something was off here .

Was this a trap?

“A seraphim you say? … certainly there’s still an abundance of those still in heaven ? Why not ask my brothers or sera ? I’m sure they all fawn over him anyway .. why have you come to me ?”

He was well throughly confused, why wasn’t heaven taking care of this situation .. and why did it have to be him? Surely the Exterminations was an apology enough right ?

He hasn’t told her no persay just wanting more information .

“Do I have to mean it if I say it ?”

[glitter-stained]

I used to dislike Lazarus Pit Madness headcanons but I've seen people say "he doesn't need magic madness he has normal madness" and "why would you need a magical explanation for his behaviour have you people never heard of cptsd" and while I understand the sentiment (and Jason definitely has cptsd) this is exactly what I'm talking about when I say dc has a dangerous habit of demonizing/villanizing mental illness and it has a real impact on the fandom's perception of mental illness. Winnick isn't the worst when it comes to Jason's writers but the fact that he wrote Jason as both a brilliant hypercompetent villain and a sympathetic character that makes you go "oh hey, he has a point..." should not distract you from the fact that no, decapitation is not a common symptom of cptsd.