#and have been struggling for months... has it been a year?

[ahmadalanqar1993]

In the midst of war, stories are born—some from the noise of bombs 💥 and cries of fear 😱, others from a mother’s tears 😭 as she watches her children , not

only from the dangers of weapons 💣 but from hunger 🍞 and disease 🤒.💔🌧️

In a small neighborhood in Gaza 🏘️, I live with my four children: Qusay, Jouri, Mohammed, and Adam. Poverty and hunger aren’t the only wounds in our lives; there’s another wound that burdens me and deepens our suffering. It’s the skin disease 🦠 that has affected me and my children, making each day feel like a new punishment ⚖️ added to a long list imposed by the harsh realities of war. I see the effects of the disease on my children; I see their innocent eyes 👀, weary from tears and pain 😢, their small, thin bodies 👦🏻👧🏻 weakened by malnutrition 🍲, and the innocence that is slowly vanishing under life’s cruelty.😞🩹🍞💔

Our suffering isn’t simple. War has shut the doors 🚪 of hope in my face. Many times, I’ve tried to find treatment for my children 🏥, but each time, war’s hand ✋ reaches out to deny us even the dream of good health 🛑. My heart 💔 aches as I look at them, feeling helpless 😔—an emotion I had never known before.

Qusay, my eldest at twelve 👦🏼, is a determined boy. He loves studying 📚 and dreams of becoming a doctor 👨‍⚕️ to one day relieve children from the pain he witnesses daily. But like all of us, he’s been caught in the clutches of war. He can’t even attend school 🏫 regularly and doesn’t feel safe in our small home 🏠.📚🏫💭

As for Jouri, my seven-year-old daughter 👧🏼, she doesn’t understand what war means, but she knows her days aren’t like other children’s. She feels pain when she looks at her small hands 🤲, irritated and itchy, and when she asks me why she’s hurting, I have no answer.💔🩹😢

Mohammed, my four-year-old son 👦🏽, has become mostly silent 🤐, speaking only a little, as if war has stolen both his voice 🎙️ and his childhood 🎈.🌧️😞💔

And finally, there’s Adam, my ten-month-old baby 👶, too young to understand anything, yet crying constantly 😢. His life is already filled with hunger 🍽️, pain 💢, and sickness 🤧.🍼💔😢

I stand at night 🌙 beside my children as they struggle to sleep 🛌, lifting my hands to the sky ☝️ in prayer 🙏, asking for God’s help. I have nothing for them but hope 💫 and prayers, and I am left only to wait⏳—waiting for a day when peace 🕊️ and mercy 💖 will come. A day when I can see my children laugh freely 😂, without fear 😨 or pain.🕊️🙏💔

[amiableness]

Peonies ; part four

Pairing: Theo Nott x Fem!Reader

Summary: Mattheo is in an awful mood after the party while Theo takes reader to the peony field.

Word Count: 4772

Warnings: Unrequited love & Mattheo and Theo get into it. Reader overthinks for a little bit. Mentions of drugging? One mention of Y/n. Let me know if there’s more!

A/N 💌 I can't tell you how nervous I am to post this, I feel like it's not my best work. But regardless, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter. As usual thank you to @moonpascal for reading, helping me with ideas, and just providing support and comfort. I love you endlessly!

SERIES MASTERLIST <3

“Did something happen last night between you and Mattheo?” Pansy asks, throwing the door open with an expectant look. Despite your low mood, you can’t help but crack a tiny smile at the sight of her—hair a tousled mess, mascara smudged beneath her eyes. She’s the perfect picture of someone who had way too much fun last night.

“Is there any particular reason you’re asking?” You reply cautiously, eyes following her as she saunters over and slips into bed beside you. She gives the blanket a hard tug, leaving you to huff in irritation when she claims more than her fair share.

“Because I heard him and Veronica fighting. I didn’t catch much, but I did hear your name.” Pansy looks you over, taking in your rumpled clothes and tired eyes. You’re not in much better shape than she is, and she can't tell if it’s the lingering effects of last night’s drinks or the aftermath of whatever happened with Mattheo.

“Merlin,” you sigh, rolling your eyes and sinking deeper into the warmth of your bed. You haven’t moved since Theo left about twenty minutes ago, and you’re not sure if you’ll find the energy to do so anytime soon. Honestly, the idea of staying curled up here is more tempting than you'd like to admit. “We got into it again last night.”

“Again?” Pansy raises an eyebrow, shifting to face you.

“Apparently, he does care.” Your voice is dripping with sarcasm and frustration.

“He told you that?” Pansy shifts so quickly it’s as if you’ve shocked her. Both of you know very well that Mattheo isn’t the type to open up about what he’s feeling. Years of watching him around his parents taught you why—with how many times you had seen them scold him for even a flicker of emotion, it was no wonder he kept everything locked up.

You sigh, staring up at the ceiling, “He said he wanted me to admit I have feelings for him too.” Pansy's eyes widen, her mouth falling open as she stares at you in disbelief.

“Feeling for him too?” She echoes, and you finally turn to meet her eyes with a weak nod. Your best friend sits there for a moment, studying your face carefully before choosing her next words. She knows she has a nasty habit of saying the first thing on her mind without considering that it might not be what you need to hear.

Pansy sits up, grabbing the pillow she was using and hugging it to her chest as she stares at you impatiently. She’s waiting to hear if you’ve finally told the boy you’ve been head over heels for, for years, that you like him too. “Well? Did you?”

“I couldn’t do it.”

“Please, tell me it’s for the reason I’m thinking.” She all but begs, her eyes wide with hope.

You let out a weary sigh. “I don’t know when I stopped having feelings for him, Pans. I didn’t even realize I’d lost them until he asked me to tell him I felt the same, and there was just...”

“Just..?” Pansy prompts gently.

A pause hangs between you as you search for the right words.

You hardly slept last night; your mind raced with thoughts of the past few months, trying to pinpoint when and how your feelings faded so quietly. You had liked Mattheo for so long, even convinced yourself that maybe you even loved him. But how could you truly love someone who was so closed off? Sure, he turned to you when he was struggling, but that didn’t mean he ever shared what he was feeling. He liked your presence and relied on you to be there whenever he needed support, but he never trusted you enough to truly let you in.

Not in the way you wanted, at least.

If he wasn’t comfortable with his own emotions, there was no way he would be able to handle yours. Maybe that was the heart of it—the realization that he would never fully open up to you, and that had kept you from falling in love with him. And maybe that was the best thing that could have happened, no matter how painful or uncomfortable it was to come to terms with at the beginning.

Then there was Theo. Who had promised to help you get over Mattheo, and from that moment on, he was there for you without hesitation. He held your hand whenever you needed it, and honestly, you had begun to lean on him a bit too much—being close to him had become your favorite feeling. He never made it feel like supporting you was a chore; instead, he made it seem like something he had always longed to do.

In truth, everything had changed for you. Spending time with Theo was no longer just a way to distract yourself from Mattheo; it became where you wanted to be. Being around him made you feel safe and accepted in a way you hadn’t realized you craved.

And that was absolutely terrifying.

You sit up abruptly, fully facing Pansy, “When you said that you thought Theo would give me everything if I let him, did you mean that?”

“Babes,” she begins, sending you a soft smile. “I’ve always thought you would be good for Mattheo. You bring something out in him; he’s happiest when he’s around you. Veronica seemed to make him happy at first—” she adds with a snort—“but nowhere near the level you do.”

“But with Theo…” Pansy trails off. “I’ve never seen you so happy—and not the kind of happy you were with Mattheo. It’s not the relief of him not having a one-night stand or flirting with you a bit bolder at a party. It’s genuine happiness; you’re truly yourself. Theo brings out a different side of you, and you do that for him, too.”

Glancing over at the vase of red peonies, battling the tightness in your throat and the sting in your eyes. You decide you’d rather not spend the day in bed.

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

Since last night, Theo has been struggling to push away the thought that maybe the idea of you having feelings for him isn’t so far-fetched. Especially after you’d implied that the two of you were together to the girl who’d tried to flirt with him. The way you’d intertwined your fingers with his, staking a silent claim that he was off-limits, had left him reeling. There was no way you’d be so possessive if you didn’t feel the same. At least, that’s what he’d been telling himself all morning.

And then there was the way you hadn’t been able to answer Mattheo about your feelings. Theo’s whole heart had been in his throat as he waited for you to tell Mattheo that you did have feelings for him, that you’d had them for years. But you hadn’t answered.

In a way, though, you had, hadn’t you? You’d pushed past Mattheo without a word and gone straight to him.

“Are you coming with us to Hogsmeade or not?” Enzo nudges Theo, pulling him out of his thoughts. The boys had all planned to go to Hogsmeade together this weekend, a plan set firmly in stone since last weekend. But when Theo saw you this morning, he couldn’t hold back. On impulse, he asked if you wanted to spend some time together, suggesting—almost shyly—that he could finally show you where he’d been getting the peonies.

“No, I’ve got plans.” Theo shrugs, and Draco sends him an irritated look from the opposite couch.

“We made plans.” Draco huffs, clearly agitated with the change. He always hated it when the boys ditched at the last second.

“Something came up.” Theo sighs, hoping that he’ll let it go quickly. He’s well aware that Mattheo should be coming down the stairs at any second. Enzo had told them that he was taking forever to get ready, probably hungover from last night. 

“You mean your girl.” Blaise corrects, and Draco looks disgusted. His head swings back to look at Theo.

“You’re ditching us for her? Mate, that’s pathetic.” Draco scoffs. “She isn’t even your girlfriend.”

“She’s pretty damn close.” Blaise points out, and Theo tries his best to ignore the feeling that jolts through him when he thinks of you as his girlfriend.

He doesn’t have a chance to say anything—not that he would have—before Mattheo walks over to join the group. He claps a hand on Draco’s shoulder, only for Draco to shrug him off irritably. “C’mon,” Mattheo says, his tone leaving no room for argument.

As the others rise, stretching and adjusting their robes, Theo remains seated, gaze fixed on the fireplace in front of him. Mattheo pauses, giving him a puzzled look, one brow lifting in question. “You’re not coming?”

“No.” Theo answers curtly, clearly uninterested in extending the conversation. The truth is, he hasn't spoken to Mattheo in quite a while, and when they do, it’s nothing but tension—a quiet frustration simmering beneath each exchange.

Mattheo’s curiosity sharpens. “Why not?”

“He’s got plans with his girl,” Draco interjects with a roll of his eyes, impatience seeping into his voice. “Now, can we go? We’ve waited long enough for you as it is.”

“Wait. Hold on,” Mattheo turns to face him fully, and Draco huffs when he realizes they’re not going to be leaving any time soon. “Your girl?”

“You know what he means.” Blaise interjects calmly, his eyes shifting to Mattheo as he watches tension coil through his stance.

Mattheo gives a casual shrug, though his jaw tightens. “No, Blaise, I really don’t.”

Theo huffs, rolling his eyes as he stands, making to push past. “Why the hell do you even care?”

Mattheo’s hand snaps out, stopping him mid-step. “You know why I care.”

Theo’s gaze darkens, voice low. “Oh, you mean because of your feelings for her?” He shakes his head in disbelief. “Does your girlfriend know that you told Y/n you’ve always liked her?”

Theo’s eyes flicker over Mattheo’s shoulder, catching the shared looks between Blaise, Enzo, and Draco. There’s no shock in their expressions—only a knowing look as if they’d been bracing for this moment all along. It’s unsettling, the way they seem almost resigned, like they’ve seen the tension building between him and Mattheo from a mile away.

Mattheo scoffs, an edge of irritation slipping into his voice. “Did she go and tell you everything I said?”

Theo raises a brow, “No, I overheard you. But even if she did, what does it matter to you?”

Matteo narrows his eyes, “Because I care about her.”

“Bullshit. If you cared about her, you wouldn’t have put her in that position last night.”

“I care about her more than you think.” Mattheo bites out, and the boys watch carefully as Mattheo takes another step forward.

“Right,” Theo scoffs, “You care so much you went and found yourself another girl.”

Theo sees it before Mattheo even speaks—the subtle shift in his expression, the tightening of his jaw, the flicker of defensiveness flashing in his eyes. “I wasn’t ready to—”

“So you weren’t ready for her? But you were for Veronica? I don’t get it. You can’t just expect her to always be there when you finally figure out what you want.”

Mattheo laughs in disbelief, “I wasn’t waiting, I—”

“Then what the hell were you doing?” Theo’s voice sharpens. “You had years to tell her how you felt, and you didn’t say anything. Then you get a girlfriend, she starts spending time with me, and all of a sudden, you care? Leave her alone and quit messing with her.”

“I’m not fucking messing with her—”

“You are. You’ve been doing it for years.” Theo’s eyes flash with frustration, and suddenly he feels the urge to make it clear that he wants you—that he always has, and Mattheo isn’t the only one. “She deserves better than someone who can’t make up their mind. She deserves to be someone’s first choice.”

Mattheo’s expression hardens and his tone drops. “And that’s you?”

Theo doesn’t have the chance to answer, because Veronica’s shriek causes both their heads to snap in her direction, “Matty!”

Theo watches as Mattheo steps back, anger giving way to frustration, a quiet curse slipping from his lips at the sight of his girlfriend. Veronica strides forward, pushing right past Blaise and Enzo without a second glance. Blaise shoots her an agitated look, irritation flashing in his eyes as she barrels through.

“I thought you said you guys were going to Hogsmeade.” Veronica smiles, reaching out to take Mattheo’s hand, but he subtly pulls away, dodging her touch with a flicker of impatience in his eyes.

“We are.” He grumbles under his breath, but Veronica keeps smiling sweetly, unfazed, as if her boyfriend hadn’t just blatantly brushed off her attempt to hold his hand. Mattheo turns to leave, muttering something to the boys, likely a brief comment about their plans.

Theo watches as an agitated Mattheo strides out of the common room, with the boys trailing behind him. But the boys glance back at Theo, their expressions a mix of caution and confusion. Theo turns to leave as well, but Veronica’s voice stops him, soft and pointed, just loud enough for him to hear.

“You should tell your girlfriend that last night was a mistake,” she murmurs, a sympathetic smile tugging at her lips. “Mattheo thought she was me; you know how he gets after a few too many drinks.”

Theo thinks about correcting her, letting her know that he doesn’t really know what she means at all. From what he saw last night, Mattheo was tipsy—not that drunk—and Theo has had enough years of experience to tell the difference. But instead, he shrugs it off, deciding he’d rather find you than spend any more time in the common room.

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

“Hogsmeade is that way.” You say, a bit confused, gesturing in the opposite direction as you walk beside Theo.

“I know.” He replies simply, his gaze flickering back to the trail that you’ve never gone down before. Honestly, you had no idea it even existed. It’s evident that this path isn’t used often, as moss and grass have claimed most of the walkway. Vibrant wildflowers dot the sides, their colors brightening the greenery around them. 

He’s been quiet for most of the walk, which feels strange; you’re not used to this side of him. The more time you’ve spent with Theo, the more he’s opened up—sharing memories of his late mum, the weight of his father’s expectations, and his hopes for the future. These walks, where you slowly unravel each other’s stories, have become your thing, something that only the two of you share.

You frown slightly, glancing at him as you try to piece it together. “But I thought you said you got the flowers from a shop.”

“I never said that.” Theo’s lips curve into that soft, gentle smile that never fails to send your stomach into a flutter. “I said I’d take you with me the next time I went to get some. I never said it was in Hogsmeade.”

It takes you a second, too enamored with the view in front of you for it all to click. The walk isn’t long, but as you continue down the path, you spot a patch of red ahead. It stands out against the greenery, a cluster of flowers blooming a pretty, vibrant hue. You can’t quite tell what kind they are, but when you glance at Theo, you notice the way his eyes flicker nervously, and it suddenly feels like you’re walking toward something important.

But then it hits you all at once: “They’re peonies.”

On instinct, you grab Theo’s hand, giving it a playful tug to urge him along toward the blooms. He lets out a soft laugh at your enthusiasm, and a warmth fills you as his earlier mood seems to lift, the tension in his shoulders fading.

When you reach the edge of the flower field, you pause, still holding Theo’s hand as your gaze lingers over the vibrant blooms stretching out before you. Theo glances at you, heart beating a little faster as he wonders what you’re thinking, but he brushes aside his nerves and releases your hand, shrugging off his jacket to lay it carefully on the ground. You murmur to him, urging him not to squish any of the flowers, and Theo smiles, his expression softening as he gently reassures you that he won’t.

There isn’t much room on his jacket, so you find yourself pressed against Theo’s side—though you don’t mind in the slightest. He’s leaned back on his hands, while you sit cross-legged beside him.

The quiet is soothing, broken only by the soft chatter of birds and the occasional hum of an insect drifting from flower to flower. The warmth of the sun on your skin feels heavenly, its heat a welcome contrast to the long, cold months that have passed.

“Is this why you left? The first night you stayed with me?” You ask, glancing to the right to watch his reaction. 

From where you’re seated, you can see how the sunlight catches every small detail of his face, highlighting any imperfections. There’s the faint mole on his cheekbone, his dark lashes that you’re secretly jealous of, and the thin scar along his chin from when he fell off his broom as a kid. Another mark splits through his brow—a scar whose origin he could never quite remember, but has always just been there. It tugs at you, knowing you can recall the origins of his faded scars. It might seem trivial, but it means he’s let you in, sharing parts of himself that not everyone gets to see.

Theo nods, “I had to go early in the morning to give them to Pansy. With practice later, it was the only chance I could.”

A smile creeps onto your face as you imagine Theo, slightly awkward but determined, handing over the bundle of flowers and the little card to Pansy, who no doubt teased him relentlessly. You’d had wondered how she noticed that Theo was different with you, especially when most of your time together was just the two of you. But now, hearing this, you understand perfectly how she recognized a side of him that only seems to surface around you.

“I didn’t want to leave, y’know.” Theo continues, finally glancing over at you, and the effect is instant—those watercolor eyes meet yours, sending a flutter through your stomach as you instinctively lean closer, feeling yourself melt into his side.

“The flowers made up for it,” you tease, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “Aside from you, they were the only thing that made me feel better.”

“Yeah?” Theo glances down at you, tucked into his side, a satisfied smile tugging at his lips. Hearing you say the flowers meant something to you eases any nerves he had—because they were never just a way to cheer you up. They were his quiet, unspoken way of telling you that he was there, that he cared. And that, despite your feelings for Mattheo, he was an option too.

“Yeah.” You confirm.

For the rest of the afternoon, you and Theo sat together, talking about whatever came to mind as you picked flowers. You gathered a few, but mostly you watched as Theo picked the ones he liked the most, adding to the small bundle that sat between you both. Watching him carefully select the prettiest flowers, knowing he was going to give them to you, made something shift inside you. If you hadn’t fully realized your feelings before, you were certain of them now.

You lost track of time with Theo, but eventually, he had to leave for practice. He handed you the freshly picked flowers and walked you back to the castle, stalling as if reluctant to say goodbye. In the end, you pressed a soft kiss to his cheek and murmured a quiet ‘thank you.’ You didn’t want to say goodbye either, but you couldn’t bring yourself to be the reason Theo might get into trouble.

It wasn’t until you got back to your dorm, leaning against the door with a giddy squeal, the flowers pressed to your chest, their scent lingering in the air, that the realization hit you. You should’ve kissed him. The thought made your stomach dip with excitement, and for a fleeting moment, you entertained the idea of running after him, catching him just before practice, and kissing him. Absentmindedly, your hand rises to trace your lips, lost in your racing thoughts. 

You’re so caught up in the moment that you don’t notice Pansy at her desk, watching you with an amused look.

“You look like you had a good time.” Pansy smirks as you startle and send her a look before pushing away from the door.

“Pansy, I’m fucked.” You whine and she lets out a loud laugh.

“You were from the second he stayed the night with you.” You pause for a moment, letting the realization settle in, and as it does, you know she’s right. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt so safe with someone—not in the way you did that night. Sure, you felt safe with Mattheo, but it wasn’t the same. It didn’t compare to the way you felt when you were with Theo.

“Did you know he’s been picking me flowers?” You ask instead, setting the new bundle onto your desk before turning to face Pansy. 

“Oh, I knew.” Pansy hums, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. 

“How did I not notice?” You wonder aloud. 

“You were a little distracted.” Pansy shrugs, and you nod in agreement.

After Pansy tells you she’s meeting Blaise after practice, you briefly wonder if you should go with her. You sit on your bed, lost in thought, weighing the decision, but before you can make up your mind, Pansy is already gone.

As much as you want to see Theo, you hesitate, not wanting to assume that today meant as much to him as it did for you. It’s clear from the fact he’s been picking you flowers that he has feelings for you, but you don’t want to get ahead of yourself or risk ruining something before it has a chance to begin. So, you stay in your dorm, trying to focus on an assignment you’ve been putting off for far too long, though your mind keeps drifting back to him.

So when you hear the knock, your heart skips a beat, and before you can think, you're off your bed and rushing to the door. You know exactly who is on the other side and your stomach flutters in anticipation. You pause just before opening it, taking a deep breath to calm the flutter of nerves in your stomach, willing yourself to appear composed. 

You pull the door open, forcing a casual smile as you try to sound unaffected. “Hi,” you say, though your voice betrays the excitement simmering just beneath the surface.

Theo stands in front of you, one hand holding onto the doorframe. His hair is a tousled mess, and his cheeks are flushed—whether from practice or the rush of seemingly running here, you can’t quite tell.

And when he looks up at you, he’s out of breath and looks downright impatient, “I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” You pause, thrown off and completely caught off guard. That was not what you expected him to say, and your mind spirals into the worst possible conclusions. Was he regretting what happened earlier? Apologizing for showing you the flowers, or for picking some for you? Giving you flowers at all? Maybe his feelings for you weren’t strong enough, or perhaps he only thought he had them? The thought that it could be too soon after your feelings for Mattheo crossed your mind, even though you’d started moving on from him months ago, gnaws at you.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, releasing the doorframe and stepping forward, one step, then another. He pauses, giving you a moment to pull away if you need to, but you stay rooted to the spot, unable to move. Theo stands so close now that you have to tilt your head back slightly to meet his gaze. He reaches up, and your breath catches when his thumb gently brushes against your cheek, his hand settling just below your ear. His voice is quiet, but the weight of his words makes your heart stutter. “I should’ve kissed you, dolcezza.”

He doesn’t give you a chance to respond, his thumb tracing slow, deliberate circles on your skin as he steps even closer, his breath warm against your cheek. His words tumble out in a rush, desperate and raw. “All through practice, all I could think about was you. The moment I walked away, I just wanted to turn around and kiss you.” His voice drops to a whisper, low and thick with a longing that sends shivers down your spine.

You murmur his name softly, but he’s barely listening, his gaze intense as he leans in slightly, his lips just inches from yours. “Fuck, you've been on my mind for months—years, if I'm being honest. I feel like I’m losing my mind, wondering if you feel even a fraction of what I do.” His hand still lingers at your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin, the warmth of his touch sending a tremor through you as if he’s waiting for something—waiting for you to say what he’s too afraid to ask.

It’s you who closes the distance, your lips meeting his in a sudden, fervent kiss that catches him off guard, pulling a surprised moan from deep in his throat. His body reacts instantly, his free hand snaking around your waist, pulling you closer, pressing you against him. The sound he makes causes a rush of warmth to flood your veins. He’s hardly touched, and you’re already too warm, and your knees threaten to buckle beneath you. You let him guide you backward, the pressure of his hand firm against your back until your steps falter just inside your dorm. Every inch of him feels like fire against your skin, and your previous worries fade into nothing.

Once you’re inside, he kicks the door closed with a thud but the sound barely registers. Without any hesitation, he presses you back against the door, his body close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off him. But you want him closer. So much closer. One hand rests flat against the door beside your head, while the other cups your cheek, his thumb brushing gently over your skin. Then, it’s him who leans in, his lips meeting yours in a slow, deliberate kiss that deepens with an aching intensity. There’s no rush now—just an overwhelming wave of longing, a perfect culmination of the emotions you’ve both held back. Your head spins, your heart races, and you’re certain that if you could take your temperature in this moment, it would be burning hot.

But then, slowly, he pulls back just enough to break the kiss, his breath heavy and uneven. His forehead rests against yours for a moment, both of you struggling to catch your breath. You feel the urge to close the distance between you again, to press your lips to his, because there’s something about the way Theo kisses that leaves you breathless, already craving more. But then again, maybe it’s just him—the way his touch makes a thrill course through you.

“I wanted you to kiss me before you left—”

The door jolts against your back, halting you mid-sentence as Pansy’s voice cuts through the moment. “What the hell? Open the door.” You hold your breath, hoping that if you stay silent, she might forget the whole thing and simply go away.

But that’s wishful thinking: “Babes. Please open the door."

“I thought you were hanging out with Blaise.” You call back, stealing a glance at Theo, whose expression mirrors your own surprise. Before leaving practice, he’d told Blaise to keep Pansy distracted—he wanted time with you because he had planned on telling you exactly how he felt about you.

“It’s about Mattheo.” Your brows raise is surprise at the intensity in Pansy’s voice and you fling open the door without another thought.

“What’s wrong?” Theo stands behind you, watching the way your face turns nervous.

“Veronica’s been giving him a love potion,” she says softly, her eyes studying your face as it twists in disbelief. “He’s in the infirmary... and he’s asking for you.”

please please please consider reblogging or leaving a comment! it keeps me motivated to write, and reblogs help to spread my work 🤍

[violexides]

before people get vicious i want to remind you all of a few things, starting with the fact that third party voters are not to blame for the results of the election, but rather that (1) the democratic party refused to end their genocide at every opportunity and, most influential in this specific case, (2) there has been a substantial rise of right-wing sentiment in this country that is what contributed most directly to the Republican victories we have seen in Congress and in the executive office.

regardless of who entered office, there would have been a substantial need to organize, and we are seeing that now more than ever. this is obviously horrifyingly scary shit, but queer people are resilient, Palestinians are resilient, the Black and Brown and Indigenous people of this country are resilient, the colonized people of the world are resilient. we will be able to organize until every last one of us is dead, so know that there is always something you can do. and that hope is a stronger thing than something one tyrant can end.

this is an interconnected struggle and at no point does our work stop. we don't owe candidates or politicians shit. volunteer with a hotline. call/sign petitions. go out into the streets. create art. form connections with people you may not have talked to before. cook for your friends. connect with unhoused people in your area. talk to the elders in your community. find sanctuary online if you cannot find it in person. politically educate, starting from the absolute basics because that is what is most lost in discourse sometimes. take everything one painful step at a time. maybe you got out of bed, maybe you brushed your teeth, maybe you ate breakfast, maybe you changed clothes-- these are all substantial things, and the movement suffers without you so keep doing them.

this is a terribly scary time in the world for all of us, but it has been a terribly scary time for a while across the world. don't let hopelessness stop you from fighting for the end of the genocide in Palestine, Congo, Sudan, and many other places in the world. know that if you are queer, we have survived worse shit throughout our history, and there are so many more options now for us. we need mutual aid for queer people but also and especially for our siblings of color and our disabled siblings and our poor siblings and our altogether marginalized siblings, from here to Palestine, from Sudan to West Papua, from Tigray to Kurdistan, from Armenia to Congo, from the world to the world.

i don't take a second of my time on earth for granted and i haven't for a few years. i am really fucking scared right now, i have been for months and months but it's taken a new form. but, today, the sun is out and shining on my bedroom floor. i brushed my teeth and i'm going to eat some grapes now. my professor sent a kind email. i have a lot of work to do. i have to get busy loving a lot of people.

eat what it takes to survive. sleep what it takes to survive. talk what it takes to survive. learn what it takes to survive. love what it takes to survive. live where it takes to survive. these are our fundamentals. and know that from there, we organize and we fight for something better than survival.

i am not losing my family, my found family, my friends, my peers, my professors, my roommates, my community like this. we gotta get busy.

take as long as you need to grieve. i have been grieving for a long time (this past year, for Palestine; my lifetime, for Iraq) and will grieve these results for the next four years. but understand that no matter who wins any presidential election, we have to organize. we can learn from our past here. i don't care if it's a bush in office, an obama in office, a trump in office, a biden or a harris in office, we have work to do because they won't do it for us.

Palestine and the occupied nations and people of the world will be free. they will not make martyrs of all of us. the struggle will continue so long as we are all free. victory is assured so long as the struggle continues.

i love you. i love you. i love you. i love you as hard as i hate the empire. this hate and this love forges what we need to keep this struggle alive, until victory and liberation for us all.

[ayyy-pee]

𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐈𝐬𝐬𝐮𝐞𝐬

𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝟲 - 𝗠𝗶𝘅𝗲𝗱 𝗙𝗲𝗲𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀

Discord 18+ - Twitter - Kofi - Masterlist

Pairing: Suguru Geto x Black Female Reader

Summary: A surprise around every corner.

Genre: Pregnancy AU

Story Warning:Smut, Vaginal Sex, Angst, Fluff Sometimes, Profanity, Friends with Benefits, Mental Health Discussions, Therapy, Mental Health Struggles (Suguru), Jealousy, Jealous Behavior, Overprotective, Possessive, Accidental Pregnancy, Unprotected Sex, Pregnancy Sex, Breeding Kink, Creampie, Possessive Sex, Possessive Behavior, Reader is black female reader who uses she/her pronouns but anyone can read!

Click here to read on Ao3!

Suguru Art by: Ilameys

A/N: I can't believe I randomly pumped out a chapter of this after like a year+ hiatus. Idk when the next time I'll update this one is so enjoy! LOL

Shoko’s slender fingers swipe along your stomach, a warm towel cleaning the ultrasound jelly from your skin before she gently pulls your gown back down. 

“So…” Shoko breathes as she watches Suguru gently help you to sit up. “Any questions?”

You glance up at Suguru who peers down at you. Your hand still holds his tightly. In his other hand, he holds one of the photos Shoko took of your baby. It matches the one in your free hand. He’s been so quiet, didn’t utter a word while he watched Shoko carefully slid the ultrasound scanner along your skin to take photographs and the measurements of the baby, but you could feel his pulse race with every movement of the tiny being on the screen.

“How far along am I?” Your voice is hardly above a whisper, trembling with every syllable.

“Baby is measuring around 18 weeks, give or take a few days. But everything looks good so far, and you’re looking good as well. How’s your morning sickness?”

Suguru shifts next to you, brows furrowed. Since breaking the news to him, he’s been able to put 2 and 2 together and figured out that your months long illness was simply your baby rejecting every attempt to eat or drink anything.

You nod. “It was brutal, but I’m feeling good most of the time now.”

From your peripheral, you see the way Suguru purses his lips together and you half expect him to make a snarky remark. But just like his presence here today, he surprises you when he takes your hand in his and whispers, “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.”

And it has to be the hormones that have tears forming in the corners of your eyes. It’s not his fault he wasn’t there for you. In fact, he had tried to be there for you many times even if he had no idea what the real cause of your sickness was. You haven’t forgotten the endless bowls of soup he’d brought you when he first found out you were sick and refused to see him, or the texts and calls that you rejected when he tried checking on you. You can appreciate that, appreciate him. The fact that Suguru has always been kind to you, always been a friend to you. Even when you weren’t deserving, when you weren’t a good friend to him. You give him a small smile, taking his hand in yours and squeezing gently. You don’t need to say anything for your apology to come through loud and clear, because when Suguru squeezes your hand back, you know he’s moved past it.

“Okay. Let me know if it starts back up again. I can prescribe you something to help. Take your prenatals,” Shoko interrupts, not caring in the least about your little tender moment with your child’s father. She stands tall, slipping her hands into her white coat pockets. “It’s crucial for the baby’s health, and yours. Pregnancy has a funny way of fucking with your cursed energy and those vitamins are specially made for pregnant Sorcerers.”

“I will,” You agree and Shoko smiles at you, then at Suguru.

“Alright, I’ll let you get dressed, but you’re all set. Let me know if you have any questions or call me if anything comes up.”

With that she leaves, patting Suguru on his shoulder on her way out. You shoot him a questioning look. “What was that about?”

Suguru slips a hand behind your back, slowly helping you to get comfortable. He shrugs. “Who knows? Do you…” He motions to the door with his thumb. “Do you want me to leave so you can get dressed?”

A small laugh bubbles from your chest. “What would that matter? It’s not like you haven’t seen everything already.” You extend your arm, motioning to the chair where your clothes lie. “Will you hand those to me please?”

Suguru does so without question. He stands there, staring at a point on the wall while you dress yourself, still wanting to be respectful. Now that the appointment is over and Shoko (and the ultrasound machine) are no longer there to act as a buffer, it’s a bit awkward. You slip your shirt on, carefully sliding off of the bed with Suguru’s help. You can’t help but giggle at the way he gently makes sure you’re stable before he releases his hold on you.

”I’m not huge just yet. I’m still able to get around well.”

Suguru just shrugs, a light rose color dusting his cheeks. “Kinda can’t wait to see your belly grow,” he mutters quietly. His words have your heart going into overdrive, and you stare up at him wide eyed. “Can’t ever be careful, by the way. I don’t mind helping you out.”

You bite your lip to suppress the smile fighting to take over and nod. He’s right. You should let him help you. He wants to.

“You hungry?” He asks, carefully slipping the ultrasound picture in his jacket pocket and patting it affectionately. “We can grab some lunch and maybe talk…about everything.”

He holds his hand out to you and you take it immediately. “I’d like that.”

-

“Be back by curfew,” Satoru grunts from behind Ijichi’s desk. He’s got his enormous feet propped up on the day pass paperwork he’s just signed off granting Suguru permission to leave the campus with you. The assistant stands to the side, jittery and sweating as his eyes dart between the former friends. 

This is the norm for Suguru. If ever he needs to leave campus, Satoru is required to sign off on it.

The higher ups probably feel it’s better to have The Strongest around to make sure nothing is amiss when releasing a recovering mass murderer into the public even for a few hours. They must be pretty confident that this time around, he won’t hesitate to do what needs to be done.

“I know,” you assure Satoru because Suguru isn't going to. He knows that Satoru isn’t going to acknowledge him. Especially when Satoru makes it painfully clear that he isn't, his entire body turned away from him to face you. If Satoru’s attitude toward Suguru bothers him at all, he doesn’t let it show. He’s leaning against the wall of Ijichi’s office, gaze set on you as you handle what needs to be done. He’s used to this procedure already, so he’s just ready to get out of here.

You sign your name on the dotted line of the last sheet of the stack, agreeing to take on sole responsibility for the man beside you. When you slide the papers over to Satoru, the man sits up, face serious. His lips are set in a hard line and you think he’s looking at you. You really can’t tell behind that damned blindfold of his, but yeah…you’re fairly certain he’s staring at you. You don’t know Satoru all that well. Not even as well as Ijichi, and definitely not as well as Suguru, but to be under the gaze of The Six Eyes probably feels like what you’d imagine being under a microscope feels like. You feel exposed, like everything about you is being laid bare before this man. You don’t like it.

“You done?” Suguru steps in between you and Satoru’s line of sight, and you nod. Pressing a hand to the small of your back, he ushers you out of the office and into the open air where you feel like you can breathe again. You glance back at the office, just barely catching sight of Satoru warping out of Ijichi’s seat, and let out a sigh.

“That was so weird,” you murmur, turning back to stare up at Suguru. “It’s like –”

“He knows,” Suguru cuts you off, staring at the doors behind you. Like he can still see Satoru andt he look on his face long after he’s gone. 

“Huh?”

“He knows. About the –” he glances around, lowering his voice so only you can hear. “About the baby.”

Your heart pounds loudly in your ears, because for some reason, you hadn’t thought for a second that Satoru Gojo - the holder of The Six Eyes - would immediately pick up on the fluctuations in your cursed energy caused by your pregnancy, but you should have guessed. Now what’ll happen? You still haven’t spoken to Principal Yaga about your situation and you’re damn sure not ready to yet.

Suguru takes your hand in his, lacing your fingers together. He can see your thoughts running a million miles a minute already, so he tells you what he knows will calm you. What he knows without a doubt is the truth. “He won’t say anything.”

“How do you know what?”

Suguru chuckles, squeezing your hand reassuringly as he makes his way across the campus and towards the exit, your hands still clasped together. “Satoru may hate me, may wish I were dead from time to time, and that’s fine. He will never hate me as much as he hates authority, the higher ups and especially paperwork.” 

You find yourself smiling, believing Suguru’s words. 

“If Satoru reported your condition, he’d be required to speak to the higher ups. And then he’d be required to fill out form after form about how he found out and why that makes you ineligible to take on missions. Trust me, he’s going to take this secret to his grave until you or Shoko say something. Then he’ll leave the paperwork to you two.”

Relief floods over you, because you do trust Suguru. You know that he’s right. Who knows Satoru better than his old friend? While Satoru can’t stand the sight of Suguru most days, he’s still fairly the same person from what Shoko and Suguru have told you of their time growing up together. So if Suguru says he won’t say anything, you trust his word.

“But honestly, paperwork is really reason enough for Satoru to keep his mouth shut,” Suguru mutters, and you lean against his shoulder as you burst into laughter.

- 

You sit in a bustling cafe hidden in one of the back streets of Shibuya, waiting at the table for Suguru to bring back your meal. He’d insisted that he didn’t want you standing around if you didn’t need to and instructed you to wait for him. He would hear no arguments about it. This is a fairly new side of Suguru - doting and protective, and each time his hand touches you, your heart rate picks right up. It’s making you confused.

There’s always been a strong physical attraction between the two of you, obviously. But you’ve never entertained the thought of seeing Suguru in a romantic light. You’ve always been able to keep him at a distance simply by reminding yourself that he just isn’t fit to be a romantic partner. He’s damaged, and while he’s working towards being a better man, you’re not sure if he’ll ever truly get there. At least as a romantic partner, because he’s an amazing friend and you have no doubt that he’ll be an incredible father, too. But it’ll be a long while before you both get to hold this baby. Who knows what could happen in the remainder of your pregnancy?

Suguru stands at the counter, waiting for your orders to be finished and it’s the first time since everything has come to light that you’ve gotten to just observe him. Your eyes watch as he exhibits all the nervous behaviors you’ve picked up on in the time you’ve gotten to know him. His lip between his teeth, probably red and swollen from him chewing it so hard. Fingers fiddling with the bun that sits atop his head. Hands slipping into his pockets for all of three seconds before they’re right back in his hair.

You’re sure if you pressed you could probably find out what was on his mind, but then you’re afraid that he’d probe back and you’re not sure if you’re ready to go there with him just yet. You’re not sure if you want him to know that you’re giving thought to what the next step of your relationship should be. You’re not sure if you want him to know that you can’t tell if it’s the pregnancy hormones that have your heart racing as he grabs your order and brings it over to you. Or if it’s the pregnancy hormones that make your eyes water just a bit at the way he carefully arranges your food and drink and asks if there’s anything else you need because he’s happy to grab it for you. Or maybe it’s you, truly feeling this way because it’s the pregnancy showing you your friend in a completely different light.

It’s a strange feeling to look at Suguru this way. No longer your fuck buddy, but now the father of your child and…a potential romantic partner?

”What are you thinking about?” Suguru questions, sipping his coffee.

”Nothing!” You blurt out much too quickly, sipping your drink. Even with his brows furrowed in curiosity, you’re thankful that Suguru doesn’t pry any further.

“Okay…” He unwraps his meal, a black bean burger on wheat. “So, how are you feeling after the appointment?”

For some reason, his concern for you makes your heart swell. Even after you keeping this pregnancy a secret from him, and after everything that followed, his concern is you first.

‘No, his concern is for the baby,’ you try to reason. 

“I feel good. What about you? Wasn’t it so weird to see the baby?” You chuckle, taking a bite of your meal.

Suguru nods. “Yeah, a little. But if anything, it made everything feel a little more real. Like…my child is in there. And before we know it we’ll be holding them.” He shakes his head, eyes roaming your face. “Makes me wonder what they’ll be like…what they’ll look like. Will they have my eyes? Your curls? Will they inherit either of our cursed techniques or one of their own? Or…” he swallows a piece of his burger, but you don’t miss the brief flash of bitterness on his face, disappearing as quickly as it came before he continues, “…what if they have cursed energy at all?”

Your stomach drops, and a wave of nauseousness washes over you. Of course he’s worried about that. Why wouldn’t he be? Cursed energy is everything to him. It’s what separates him, you, all Sorcerers from the rest of the world that he deems too unworthy to be in his presence. Why would he ever want a child that doesn’t have cursed energy?

“...does that make a difference?” You’re scared to ask, but you have to know. Will his child not having cursed energy be the catalyst of whatever this relationship between you two may end up being?

Suguru takes a while to answer. Probably longer than you would have liked. It makes your nerves worse, makes your lip quiver because you’re afraid. You’re so afraid that he’ll look you in the eye and say yes. Yes, it matters to him. Yes, it will make a difference to him whether his child has cursed energy or not. Maybe he won’t be involved if they don’t. And that hurts you more than anything. To think that Suguru may think your child is as worthless as any of the other non-Sorcerers he sees on the streets.

When Suguru finally meets your gaze, he has what looks like something similar to shame behind them.

“Can I be honest with you?” He asks, combing his fingers through his hair. That nervous tick that now you wish you weren’t so familiar with. But you nod anyway. You want to hear him out. “I…” He sighs. You can see the wheels turning in his head, and you know he’s trying to be careful about the words that come out of his mouth next. “I…can’t lie and say I wouldn’t be disappointed if they didn’t have cursed energy.”

You feel yourself deflate. Why was that even important? Why would that matter?

“But,” he interrupts your spiraling thoughts. “I wouldn’t love them any less, I don’t think. Honestly, it’s a confusing feeling. I should probably talk to my therapist about it.” He shrugs, like he didn’t just strap you into a rollercoaster and send you on one hell of an emotional ride. 

“ I want to be there for this baby - for you - no matter what they turn out like.”

You want to cry, burst into tears right in the middle of this cafe. It’s the pregnancy hormones, you swear. It’s definitely the hormones that have you wanting to bawl your eyes out in front of this man and tell Suguru that after everything…after all the pain that you caused him…you’re so happy that he was able to forgive you, so relieved that he wants to be involved, so damn glad that he wants to love his baby. But you tuck away the hope that maybe he’d want to love you, too one day. Because…it’s the hormones talking. 

You were so worried, and for nothing. For Suguru to bring up therapy at all regarding this topic. You know he’s taking this seriously. And all because he wants to be there for you and for the baby. You give him a soft smile, and he shyly returns it.

“I do have one thing I wanted to bring up.” He inhales deeply, steeling himself. “Are you alright with the twins knowing? They always did want a sibling.”

Your heart melts. It’s so sweet that he’d want the girls - his first daughters - to know about the baby on the way.

“Yes! Of course. We can talk about when’s a good time to tell them…”

And you do just that. You plan on when to tell Mimiko and Nanako. You talk about baby names. Does he prefer a boy or a girl? And as you would expect, he’s not picky. As long as they’re strong and healthy. He tells you he hopes they have your eyes - kind and gentle. And you tell him you hope they have his smile, the one you know is genuine. He wants them to have curly hair, just like you. And you want them to be as smart as their father.

It’s oddly domestic, sitting around in this cafe, planning for a baby with a man who just a few weeks ago, you weren’t sure you ever wanted to know about this. It’s warm, comfortable, even safe. But here you are…making it work.

-

You ascend the steps of Jujutsu High with Suguru in tow. He’s slowly following behind you, just in case you slip and fall back and he has to catch you.

“I read pregnancy throws your balance off quite a bit,” he’d told you when he insisted you walk ahead of him. Worry was etched heavily between his brows. You just couldn’t bring yourself to tell him no.

You’re kind of glad you listened, because you’re practically gasping for air the higher you go. Were there always so many damn stairs here? Why did they need this many steps? And was it always so hard for you to climb up them? Your body feels like you’re dragging a bag of weights attached to your legs, exhaustion slowing you down by the second.

“Fuck this,” you pant, hands on your hips as you pause to catch your breath.

Behind you, Suguru chuckles. He holds his arm out for you and you grab hold, happily letting him drag you the rest of the way.

When you reach the top, a tall figure is already waiting. His thick arms are folded across his chest, eyes taking in the scene between you and Suguru and you quickly separate.

“Principal Yaga,” you breathe, pretending as if you weren’t two seconds from passing out just a moment ago.

“What can we do for you?” Suguru questions, buying you some time to catch your breath again. He’s such a godsend.

“Nothing you can do, Suguru.” He juts his chin out, motioning at you. “I need you on a mission. Leaving tonight.”

“M–me?”

Yaga sighs, like it’s annoying him to repeat himself. And it probably is. “Yes.”

It’s mandatory. You can tell in his tone.

“...okay.”

You can see Suguru in your peripheral, head snapping towards you because what the absolute hell are you thinking taking a mission on in your condition?! But you haven’t told anyone outside of him and Shoko about the pregnancy. And Satoru apparently found out all on his own, that wasn’t your choice. You’re not ready to break the news to Yaga and have all eyes on you. Questions asked by your colleagues and your students, wondering who the father is. Then you’ll have to explain your situation with Suguru. And that’s opening a whole new can of worms.

It’s all things you’re just not ready to touch on yet.

And honestly, you’d rather figure out what your situation with Suguru even is before you let anyone else in on your condition. Are you together? Are you not together? Will you try dating? Maybe not? The situation is complicated. So you can’t turn down this mission. Not yet, at least. Besides, it’s still early enough in your pregnancy that you aren’t showing yet. You can get away with maybe just this one.

Though you’re not sure how you’re going to use your cursed technique when it knocked you unconscious the last time.

Suguru stands idly by, jaw clenched tight as Yaga gives you the briefest of details. He’s careful with what he says. You’re not sure if it’s because he doesn’t fully trust Suguru again yet. Or if it’s because Suguru is not assigned to this mission, so the less information he hears, the better–

“I’m going with her.”

Now your head snaps towards Suguru who is already staring down at you with determination in his eyes. Then his gaze is on Yaga’s.

“I’m going with her, if you’ll allow me, Principal Yaga.”

He’s asking, but like Yaga, it’s non-negotiable.

“Suguru…” Your voice is small, too scared to speak up and tell him it’s a bad idea. But you can see in the way he clenches his jaw, the way he balls his hands in fists, how his nostrils flare…he’s pissed.

It’s probably at you, your negligence in accepting the mission knowing that it’s dangerous and you’re with child - his child. But he holds it together, telling Principal Yaga that he’ll meet him in about 20 minutes after he packs his things. He wants to get more information about this mission that was just so important you had to be the one to go. 

When you call after him, he doesn’t spare you a glance, his low voice sending a chill up your spine when he tells you once more, “I’m going.”

[kradogsrats]

I am Near, I am Here: Rayla, the Moon, and Love as Presence

I was originally going to add this to @raayllum's post about Rayla's lullaby and Ethari but then the number of screenshots I was taking before I even started to write indicated that it had gotten out of hand.

Rayla's lullaby ties in with a lot of stuff going on in s6, most of them related to her relationship with Callum, which has its last barriers broken down and leaves their bond stronger than ever. Surely so strong that nothing in s7 could possibly challenge it. Most of Rayla's life has been defined by absence—the absence of her parents, her own forced absence from her community, her chosen absence from Callum. The lullaby, however, affirms that even when the moon appears to be absent, it is still there, and has been all along.

This is an interesting facet of the Moon arcanum, which is usually focused on certain dualities—life and death, reality and illusion, presence and absence—but also on the permeable borders between them, on change and cycles between those states.

We also actually have a window into Rayla's own understanding of the Moon arcanum—her first transformation into Moonshadow form in Bloodmoon Huntress. Look, just... bear with me, okay?

It's explicit that not all Moonshadow elves can achieve Moonshadow form, and that for most it takes months or years of meditation and training. I read this as that, while Moonshadow elves are born with an innate connection to the Moon primal, attaining Moonshadow form requires developing a deeper understanding of its arcanum. Runaan describes it as being about the balance of life and death:

Rayla can't reach Runaan's understanding of the Moon arcanum, which is somewhat hilariously about recognizing yourself in your enemy (something Rayla winds up being very good at) and understanding why you have to kill them, anyway (something Rayla winds up being very bad at).

What does work for her to achieve Moonshadow form at a terrifyingly young age is focusing on her wingaling, and a statement from Ethari:

Both are about love as being present—something Rayla is conflicted about in her parents' absence. The wingaling represents a promise that Ethari and Runaan will always come for her when she's in need. Ethari's statement is originally made in the context of explaining that Runaan's devotion to his people may require him to make great sacrifices, but that devotion can also be the smallest act of presence, and both are necessary. Her understanding of the Moon arcanum is about that presence—the moon that is always there, even at times when there is no light.

As Rayla is struggles with why her parents Runaan leaves those he loves to risk his life for others, Ethari explains that he and Runaan both know he may never come back, and that is something Ethari has to accept because Runaan can't be separated from that devotion and duty when it comes to loving him. What's missing from the conversation is acknowledgement of the trust and commitment that underpins that acceptance—Ethari's trust that Runaan will come back, and Runaan's commitment to do so.

The moon is there even when it has waned to invisibility, but it goes unstated that it also always waxes back to full. You can trust that it's there when it can't be seen, and you can trust that its light is coming back. You can trust that it's there when it can't be seen because you can trust that its light is coming back.

I am near, the lullaby says. I will be with you again soon. Until then, remember that my love is always here.

That's an understanding that Rayla crucially doesn't have when she leaves. In Dear Callum, she never once promises or even suggests to Callum that she will come back to him, even if she finds Viren. The closest she gets is the lukewarm:

I wish I could say that we will see each other again, but I don’t know if we will. I hope so.

So not only is she shattering the trust Callum had in her by abandoning him after she told him they would stay together, she won't even offer any real reassurance that she will return. Because she doesn't really think she will. Her only commitment to keep him safe, and as long as being separated accomplishes that, she will stay away. How is he supposed to accept that? What reason could he ever have to believe that she and her love are there, even when out of sight?

And yes, all of this does stem from things she learned from Runaan—Mr. "I do what I must so those I love don't have to"—but the key difference is that when push comes to shove, Runaan understands something else:

The same thing that Tiadrin and Lain did:

And that Amaya does:

That love is ultimately strengthened through presence, and through presence it strengthens us, in turn. When we open ourselves to strengthen those we love and trust them to strengthen us, then our love cannot be diminished by distance or absence.

Somewhere between Bloodmoon Huntress and s1, Rayla loses sight of that, and she doesn't rediscover it until confronted by Amaya over how her leaving harmed Callum—and how it harmed Rayla herself. Amaya isn't the first to tell her how she hurt Callum, but she's the first one to really convey to Rayla that keeping her secrets and burdens from Callum isn't sparing him from their weight and pain, only weakening her. It has always weakened her. Until she turns that around, she is denying both of them their best selves—her as the light that will bring him out of any darkness, him as the anchor that will bring her home from any distance.

The end of s6 beautifully shows the culmination of all Rayla has learned in the slow return of her relationship with Callum, and to top it off, she gets to demonstrate it to Runaan. (Since Callum already knows.)

Trapped in the In-Between, Runaan is consumed by guilt and self-loathing—he fights Rayla's attempts to guide him back to life because he doesn't believe he deserves to go back. He's too ashamed to want to go back. The way Rayla brings him back is twofold:

She reminds him of his promise to Ethari—his promise to return. She made no promise to return to Callum when she left. She probably wanted to, but she believed that the sacrifices that might be demanded of her would be more important. It would at least be out of the question to return before finding Viren, but in the end that's what she does—she returns to Callum, even though she must do it defeated, ashamed, and alone.

She also tells him that she needs him. She needs her father. She's weaker with him not there for her. When she left Callum, she genuinely believed that things would be better that way. He'd be better off safely away from whatever danger her search brought her, and making sacrifices for the people she loves—taking on difficulty and danger alone, so they don't have to—has always been her duty. She's spent three seasons re-learning the strength she has with Callum, now it's time for her to do the same with Runaan.

Rayla is very different now than she was the last time they met, and Runaan—like Callum—is going to finally see the truth of her: that she was never meant to be an assassin, but not because of failure or weakness. She was always meant to be a hero.

[shisabun]

Before I start, I just want to say thank you to the husbands, brothers, and fathers who voted to support their daughters, sisters, and wives. What I'm about to say doesn't include you.

To the women who voted for Trump, you are a disgrace. Thanks to you, your children and grandchildren will be forced to fight the war that was won by your grandmothers.

You sit content and joyful while others mourn. You laugh in the face of their fears when there's a knife floating above your head poised to fall. You have no idea what's coming, but any woman with half a braincell does.

Let me tell you a story. My great aunt was basically my grandmother. She was born in the 1930s in Spain. Right after their revolution. Right after Spain became a dictatorship. She told me so many stories in her final years that I'll keep with me for the rest of my life. But I'll give one example.

One of her closest friends married young. Her husband claimed she was unfaithful and literally beat her to death. He was never arrested. He was never convinced. He walked away free and remarried in less than a month. Catholicism wouldn't allow divorce back then. He wanted to get remarried and simply got away with it because he was a cop. Franco gave cops full impunity. So does Project 2025.

I know some people reading this are rolling their eyes, and you know what?

Fuck. You. You are trash.

That girl was murdered at 20, and her killer walked free after openingly admitting it. My Tia never told me her name, but she carried her in her heart until the day she died at 98. And so do I.

To my fellow women who are mourning and scared right now, I'll give you the same advice my mother gave me. "Have your cry. Then get up and get things done. You're strong enough not to have this break you."

You are Mary and Esther. You are Caterina Sforza. You are Princess Diana. You are Anna May Wong. You are the living legacy of every woman who has come before you. You carry their strength, their courage, and their determination.

This shit is going to suck. Pure and simple. But we'll do what we've always done. We'll bite and claw our way to a better future. We'll tear down every obstacle so our children and grandchildren will have an easier path to walk.

We are dragons in human form. Steel your heart and give them nothing. Do not give them your affection, your care, or your bodies. Fuck being demure and mindful. When they spew hate, you spit fire. When they ask for your smile, you give them your fangs. Become a walking inferno that they have no choice but to take note of. Do not yield.

You are powerful, and you are not alone. You are a sister in a coven that is millions strong. You are the daughters of the witches they couldn't burn.

To my fellow Millennials. I know you're tired. Our young adult lives were stolen from us, and we've been struggling uphill ever since. But do what the previous generation never did for us. Fight. Fight for the ones that are entering adulthood. Fight for the children who have no idea what they're about to grow into.

They called us snowflakes for pointing out their flaws. Fine. Let's give them a fucking blizzard. If they try to build momentum, we stop them. We are at the age where we need to be both shield and anchor. Let. Nothing. Pass.

We're about to face an orange shitstorm of epic proportions. But we'll do as we've always done. We fight, we endure, and we win. In the words of Samwise Gamgee, "There's good in this world, and it's worth fighting for."

[biteyoubiteme]

okay okay okay!!

txt vs no nut november! and maybe single / with a partner and regular sex life

like, would / wouldn't participate (and why), how long it would take for them to lose (if lose at all, I look at you taehyun), why they would lose (idek, forgot, were too stressed, too horny, etc)

would there be a member who would be like "I'll cum at 0:01, november the first, and will enjoy the whole month looking at you all suffer, losers"?

ahhhh now I think of requesting yeonkai x reader about nnn...

txt v. no nut november

warnings: 🔞!!! gn!reader, mentions of masturbation/sex, cockwarming, edging, prob forgot some sorry

wc: 0.7k total

an: hiiii @apeachty you're my favorite because you can read my mind on exactly what I want to write next lol I don't know if I got everything you asked for but I hope you enjoy!

[m.list] [1kevent m.list]

taehyun .ᐟ

if you didn't think taehyun was winning I don't know what you're on but it's just known that he would hold out the longest. If he did lose it was because the clocks had just turned to midnight when he finished effectively ending his need to even participate in a game he knows is arbitrary. This does not mean that he doesn't still try because he loves a challenge. Will spend more time in the gym because of it but he will never complain. The guys will make fun of him saying he's not even in the game anymore seeing as he failed first, will actually go on into the first week of December just to prove a point.

beomgyu .ᐟ

Now I don't think beomgyu is very competitive about most things and if he is it's only because of teasing and needing to prove people wrong. But November is his time to shine. He will actively encourage the other’s partners to tease the boys just so that he can ‘win’ the bet. Will make it through the month but the end is an absolute struggle, suddenly he's getting boners left and right like he's a teenager again. The last day of November is the day he breaks. Technically all the other boys have already lost if you look past taehyun going past November. This is his excuse and doesn't even make it through the morning before he's cumming. By the end of the day, he is three orgasms down and doesn't even care about winning the title besides the fact he can joke about it until next year.

yeonjun .ᐟ

He tries so hard and wants to beat beomgyu because he is his only real competition. Actually masturbates a lot and just edges himself because he likes teasing and the ache it gives him. Avoiding his partner as if that will help anything, his imagination is just well enough. Only makes it a little more than halfway through the month before he's given up. He's not able to stay away from his partner and needs them too much to stop himself. Although he tries to just edge himself again, cockwarming only works until he's absentmindedly thrusting, cursing when he accidentally finishes. Just shrugs and goes another round this time without even feeling sorry. 

kai .ᐟ

Doesn't even remember that he's not supposed to be having sex, and doubly doesn't remember not to cum. He lasts a few days max and only because hadn't been near his partner. But as soon as they come near he's a needy mess, begging to get off because he just missed them so much. Remembers the last second about the group chat and the threats of having to pay for everyone's dinner if he's first to lose. Feels like a failure for only a second before shrugging just glad he doesn't have to worry about it anymore. Promises to win next year even if it's the last thing he does.

soobin .ᐟ

Talks big talk about winning but forgets exactly how often he finishes in a month. Will put himself into a bad mood and it's only been a few hours into November 1st. Has to avoid opening certain apps because he knows his feed will be evil and show him exactly what he wants to see but can't use to get him off. Surprises himself by even making it through the day only not really because he's got his hand down his pants only an hour before midnight. Cums multiple times and doesn't even bring it up that he's lost, actually lies about still holding out until he confesses to Kai that he too did not last long at all. “No, it was actually torture, the only thing I could think about was getting off and wondering exactly where you guys would pick to eat and if it would be that crazy to just send my card info in the chat to get it over with,” 

He and Taehyun have a full back-and-forth that lasts longer than it should about who should give their card to the waiter. The very serious debate ends after the laughter from the other boys is so loud people are looking their way. Soobin grumbles as he pays but knows it's only fair because he technically did lose first. He also knows that he was only a minute shy of actually finishing at midnight before the day even started for their competition and would have ended up paying anyway because unlike taehyun he would not have just continued the competition but would have just given up without even trying. 

taglist 🏷: @kissmekissykissme @bts-txt-ateez @apeachty want to be added to the taglist? check out my rules to see how to join! want to be taken off the taglist? send an ask!

[heartofbusan]

Pretty terrifying outlook, not going to lie. I usually need a while to unglue myself from feeling anxious whenever anything this monumental happens, and I hope sheer apathy isn't what does it. I need that to come from something concrete, something real. Something that makes me feel hopeful about the future.

You know, I honestly don't think I'll ever see BTS live. Ive always wanted to, but it just never felt like a possibility. Right now, the prospect of fighting for tickets seems so pointless that I'd rather give up before I even try. Isn't that just so sad? Shouldn't we all feel like doing something as frivolous as going to a concert is something worth a little struggle? I just hate confrontation. I also hate unfair fights. If someone isn't willing to meet me on fair terms, I'd rather not bother.

I hope that whatever Kamala takes away from this past year is that she doesn't feel like this defeat was all down to her. She did her utmost best in an unfair fight. Having to drag the carcass of your predecessor along your path to a better future wasn't an easy task. The odds were not in her favor no matter what she did or didn't commit to. Again, it's the institution that has to admit their fault in getting us all here.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I fear for what this shift in power means for our boys. If you've been following global news at all, you'll already know that for SoKor, too, the odds aren't looking great. But I can't succumb to this line of thinking. They have already overcome too much to get sucked into a vortex greater than even their reach.

Let's sit with this news and then see what tomorrow or a week or a month brings. Do the small things that make you feel good. And, if possible, save something extra for your bts savings account, so you can become a fighter in a race for a little bit of tangible hope.

[aya-from-gaza48]

Don’t • skip • please🥺🍉🇵🇸

Hello, I am Aya and I am reaching out to you with a heavy heart on behalf of my family of seven who are trapped in the devastating situation in Gaza 🍉 . They are urgently seeking evacuation to Egypt after enduring more than 370 days of displacement and hardship. I am seeking to help them urgently and provide them with the minimum requirements. I was displaced and managed to escape the horrors of war to Rafah, then we returned again to Khan Younis and were displaced more than once inside Khan Younis until we reached the beach..

Today I find myself in a situation I never expected. The conflict in Gaza has left my family in dire need of assistance. This war has taken our livelihoods and our factories and now we are struggling to survive.

But now our livelihood has been destroyed and all the hard work of the years has been lost in a short moment. We had a home that sheltered my family and my brothers, and the occupation destroyed our only shelter and the streets have become a bed for my brothers.

Every child of my siblings had a dream to fulfill

@yousef-falestinef is my cousin, she vetted and she vouches for me in this screenshot, I’m vetted by association

I feel ashamed to ask you to help me save my family's life. If someone donates $5 it will make a difference to us and help us because we need more. I don't want to lose my family, you are my only hope, you are our hope always and forever. I feel so embarrassed but I rubbed salt in my wound and I have no one else to save them but you. My family is calling you and asking for your help. They are in desperate need of rescue and safety. Your generosity will directly help save my family from death and rebuild our lives. Every donation, no matter how small, makes a huge difference. Reach out and make a meaningful impact for us because we need you. Donate on GoFundMe Every contribution, no matter how big or small, will directly help save my family's life and help my family who are still trapped in the Gaza Strip. ✓ Share this post and spread the word ⩥ Please 🙏🏻share this campaign with your friends, family and colleagues to help us reach our goal. Your support means everything to me, and I am so grateful for any help you can offer during this difficult time.

https://gofund.me/ce57acf6

before 🥺💔

[ambulancevsambulance]

This is my Essay from the MCR Swarm Zine. I kept hesitating to put it up here, as I feel pretty tender about it. But after everything that happened yesterday, today. I feel like I have to put it out here. It's necessary. Needed. For myself, at the very least.

--

"'Cause you only live forever in the lights you make”

It’s June 2022, and I’m watching My Chemical Romance perform songs of anger, community, and defiance in one of my favorite cities- Prague. 

The city of my father’s family. A city that has repeatedly stared tyranny in the face and decided to rise up despite the odds.  

It’s 1945 and the citizens have rebelled to take back the city from the Nazis, street by street.

It’s the spring of 1968, and citizens fight against another oppressive regime. They are supposed to be crushed in four days. 

They last eight. Months. 

It’s 1989, another uprising, one that comes to be known as the Velvet Revolution. The city is finally free, a culmination of every revolution and rebellion that has come before. 

In each instance citizens clawed towards freedom by any means necessary, fighting in the open to stop jackbooted goons from holding onto power. To save friends, family, and complete strangers from suffering for one more moment. Each time they lost, they made sure to make it hurt, and to make the oppressor remember how hard the fight had been. 

They didn’t always win the battle,

–The good guys die and the bad guys win–

but they won the war. 

These people keenly knew that institutions will not save you. Only your fellow comrades will.

It’s June 2022. My friends and I are facing calls of discrimination, for extermination. It can be a miserable time, but I find strength in watching one of my favorite bands. I join the hundreds on livestream, watching the thousands in the stadium. Our eyes fixed on the five on stage. 

As Gerard starts crooning out the notes of Heaven Help Us for the first time in fourteen years, again I’m reminded:

They will not save you.

What is this song but a scream to be saved by outside forces? That in the midst of a cruel martyrdom, the Heavens will be silent to pleas for help. It’s the punchline to the joke, right? No higher power is coming to save you, no matter how much you cry. 

Best they can offer is to watch you burn. 

Heaven Help Us has never been a hopeful song–and it’s a struggle to feel hopeful, some days. 

But the world is an echo of the past as much as it is a march towards an uncertain future. I feel those ghosts whispering to remember this city’s history while watching MCR on stage. To remember that the only solidarity that can be found is in mutual aid–in the community of our fellow freaks and queers and fags. That without intersectionality between it all we will fucking fail. It’s hard work, and we won’t always win.

That doesn’t mean we– I – should give up. And MCR agrees. In contrast to the despair of Heaven Help Us, there is Danger Days– which speaks more to me now than any other MCR album. Songs of radical love and resistance against fascist conglomerates and an uncaring apocalyptic world…that doesn’t feel as fictional as it did before. 

In Prague, MCR plays six songs from that album (Boy Division counts, damn it). Seeing Gerard, Frank, and Ray all screaming into their microphones about an apocalypse that is crashing down around our ears lights a fire inside of me. Reminding me that changing the world might mean dying, but hell yeah lets try anyways. Your sacrifice might light the path of victory for others. You get to be the fucking detonator–and isn’t that a privlege? To have your acts of resistance inspire the next in line. 

It’s in direct contrast to the lament of Heaven. Stop asking who, what will save us, and realize we have to save ourselves. By any means possible. 

The concert ends with Kids from Yesterday, and I finish the night listening to Gerard sing that the only people we can truly count on are each other. That fighting for your friends is the purest form of love alive. 

So in the face of extermination, say fuck you.

And make damn sure your friends want to leave graffiti on your grave. 

[mariacallous]

Oulu is five hours north from Helsinki by train and a good deal colder and darker each winter than the Finnish capital. From November to March its 220,000 residents are lucky to see daylight for a couple of hours a day and temperatures can reach the minus 30s. However, this is not the reason I sense a darkening of the Finnish dream that brought me here six years ago.

In 2018, moving to Finland seemed like a no-brainer. One year earlier I had met my Finnish partner while working away in Oulu. My adopted home of Italy, where I had lived for 10 years, had recently elected a coalition government with the far-right Matteo Salvini as interior minister, while my native UK had voted for Brexit. Given Finland’s status as a beacon of progressive values, I boarded a plane, leaving my lecturing job and friends behind.

Things have gone well. My partner and I both have stable teaching contracts, me at a university where my mostly Finnish colleagues are on the whole friendlier than the taciturn cliche that persists of Finns (and which stands in puzzling contradiction to their status as the world’s happiest people).

Notwithstanding this, I feel a sense of unease as Finland’s prime minister Petteri Orpo’s rightwing coalition government has set about slashing welfare and capping public sector pay. Even on two teachers’ salaries my partner and I have felt the sting of inflation as goods have increased by 20% in three years. With beer now costing €8 or more in a city centre pub, going out becomes an ever rarer expense.

Those worse off than us face food scarcity. A survey conducted by the National Institute for Health and Welfare found 25% of students struggling to afford food, while reductions in housing benefit mean tenants are being forced to move or absorb the shortfall in rent payments. There are concerns that many unemployed young people could become homeless.

Healthcare is faring little better. Finland’s two-tier system means that while civil servants and local government employees (including teachers) paradoxically enjoy private health cover, many other people face long waiting lists. Not having dental cover on my university’s plan, I called for a public dental appointment in April. I was put on callback and received a text message stating I’d be contacted when the waiting list reopened. Six months later, I am still waiting. A few years ago I could expect to wait two months at most.

The current government, formed by Orpo’s National Coalition party (NCP) last year in coalition with the far-right Finns party, the Swedish People’s party of Finland and the Christian Democrats, has been described as “the most rightwing” Finland has ever seen – a position it appears to relish.

Deputy prime minister and finance minister Riikka Purra – the Finns’ party leader – has been linked to racist and sometimes violent comments made online back in 2008. The party’s xenophobia is clearly influencing policymaking and affecting migrants. As a foreigner, I’d be lying if I didn’t admit to feeling a certain chill as anti-immigrant rhetoric ramps up.

A survey by the organisation Specialists in Finland last year found that most highly qualified workers would consider leaving Finland if the government’s planned tightening of visa requirements went ahead (that proposal, which extended residence time required for Finnish citizenship from four to as many as eight years has now become law). Luckily, I am a permanent resident under the Brexit agreement.

With the coalition intent on ending Finland’s long history of welfarism in just one term, there is a risk (and hope among progressives) that it may go too far, inviting a backlash. We arguably saw signs of this in the European election in the summer, when Li Andersson won the highest number of votes for an EU election candidate in Finland. Andersson, who was education minister in Sanna Marin’s former centre-left coalition government (which lost to the NCP in April 2023), ran on a progressive red-green ticket of increased wealth equality and measures to tackle the climate crisis. She has also been critical of emergency laws blocking asylum seekers from crossing Finland’s eastern border, arguing that it contravenes human rights obligations.

Andersson’s party, the Left Alliance, chose a new leader this month, the charismatic feminist author Minja Koskela, who was elected to Helsinki’s council in 2021 after a period as secretary of the Feminist party, and as a member of parliament in 2023. Koskela argues: “People are widely frustrated with the government’s discriminatory policy and cuts to culture, social and health services, education and people’s livelihood. It is possible to turn this frustration into action.” (Full disclosure: I’m a member of the party and have helped coordinate its local approach to immigrants.)

It remains to be seen if she can build on Andersson’s EU success. Although the popular media-savvy figure appears to relish the challenge of turning the party into an election winner, Koskela faces a huge challenge. The party struggles to poll at more than 10% nationally, aside from a brief high of 11% in July. A place in government is nonetheless possible. But Marin’s Social Democratic party (SDP) of Finland (now led by Antti Lindtman), has topped the national opinion polls 12 out of 14 times since April 2023.

Meanwhile, the Finns party is polling at 16%, down from the 20.1% vote they gained in the election. These figures point to one thing: another possible SDP-led coalition government in the next parliament by the summer of 2027. This would probably include the Left Alliance and the Green League, among others. And such a coalition would aim to undo a lot of the damage done by the right.

But until then, there will be more damage to come. So while there is clearly hope for an end in sight to the country’s political darkness three years hence, this will bring little solace now to poor people, migrants, and the squeezed middle class as the long Finnish winter closes in.

[sourtoasterstrudel]

Obligatory gravity falls post because I too had my gravity falls hyperfixation resurrected by book of bill’s release

I’m not super proud of this it took a lot out of me to work on and I kinda tapped out halfway through but despite that I’ll post it because I haven’t shared stuff in awhile

I have a compilation post of stuff I’ve been working on so that’ll probably get shared soon too

[luxaofhesperides]

For ghostlights: baby Ellie + tired Danny + Duke the baby whisperer?

He has no idea how his parents did it. 

Babies are exhausting. Toddlers more so. Any infants in the strange stage in-between? Doubly so. 

Ellie is wonderful and sweet and cute and such a terror that Danny genuinely has no idea how his parents managed to raise not one, but two kids. For all their eccentricities and absent-mindedness, he and Jazz turned out pretty well. Ignoring the whole halfa thing because that’s more his fault than theirs even if Jazz says they shouldn’t have created the dangerous environment in the first place.

That environment is exactly why Danny refuses to let Ellie go to his house in Amity Park. His parents say they’ve disabled all the weapons and ecto-sensors since he’s had to reveal himself as Phantom, but he knows that things slip their minds and if they can’t guarantee that the house is safe, then Ellie isn’t going in there. Simple as that. 

This means that they live somewhere else now. Danny had thought about it, during the hours Ellie was asleep and he was awake, exhausted and worn down to his bones, and took Jazz’s advice to accept Vlad’s offer of buying a house for him. Except he argued Vlad down to an apartment in a city of his choosing where he wouldn’t stand out too much and he would be safe, or as safe as he can be, from anyone trying to hunt down ghosts. 

So here they are. Standing in the empty living room of their new apartment in Gotham. 

Gotham may not be very safe as a city, but it’s good for two ghosts trying to pass as normal. 

Danny sighs yet again, and looks at the space he’ll need to fill. At least Vlad is footing the bill. It’s the least he can do for creating Ellie. Frostbite was the one who was able to stabilize her, though it was almost too late and resulted in her reforming as a baby, just one and a half years old. Jazz is the one who’s choosing most of the furniture, thankfully, so it’s something that Danny doesn’t need to worry about it.

It’s a new start to their lives and it feels so empty. So overwhelming. How did his parents do it? How do any parents do it?

Ellie smacks a small palm against his cheek and babbles lightly.

“I know, Ellie,” Danny says, giving her a tired smile. “Don’t worry, we’ll have this place looking good in no time.”

He adjusts her in his arms, then heads towards the bedroom. It’s the only room that has any furniture, and all that’s there is a bed, a crib, and a bookcase. There are a few boxes on the floor, labeled ‘bedroom’ and ‘clothing’ and ‘books’. Most of it came from his bedroom in Amity Park, but he’s pretty sure he caught Jazz sneaking a few things in before they closed the boxes and loaded them up into the car. 

“Can you be good for five minutes?” he asks Ellie. 

She babbles again and smacks his shoulder.

“I’m taking that as an agreement. Just let me open these boxes and start unpacking before you start causing trouble, okay?”

Ellie makes another sound, but it seems agreeable so Danny carefully lays her down in the crib and gets to peeling off the tape on the boxes. The opens the one labeled ‘bedroom’ first, finding blankets and sheets folded and stacked in vacuum sealed bags. One of them is his old childhood blanket, the one he carried around everywhere that was faded with age, barely blue, with white bunnies decorating it. 

He was so small when he had this. It makes him oddly emotional to unpack it and pass it on to Ellie, draping it over her so her pudgy little hands can grab at it. 

This is no time to cry, though! He forces himself to focus and makes his own bed, shaking out the sheets and fluffing up the pillows. He’ll worry about washing everything later; Vlad made sure to get an apartment with an in-unit washer and dryer, which means he was actually sensible while apartment hunting for Danny. 

He doesn’t mean to flop onto the bed once it’s made, but he ends up there anyways. He’s barely gotten a full six hours of uninterrupted sleep since Frostbite deemed Ellie healthy enough to leave his care. The drive up to Gotham was long and wore him down to his bones.

He doesn’t mean to fall asleep, but he does, drifting off as he wonders, distantly, when Jazz will be back from getting them dinner.

Ellie wakes him up at dawn with a loud cry. Danny jolts awake, heart pounding in his chest as he panics because Ellie isn’t here, she’s supposed to be in his arms, where is she? And then he sees the crib, where Ellie is staring at him through the bars, and he nearly collapses with relief. 

“Morning, El,” he says, voice rough from sleep, as he picks her up. She just stares up at him, then leans forward and rests her head against his shoulder.

It’s quiet moments like these that make his heart melt. Ellie’s had a hard life already; he wants to give her a better one, this time around. 

A quick check of the time on his nearly dead phone shows that it’s barely past six in the morning, and Jazz texted him a few times. All about furniture, saying that she didn’t want to wake them and that food is in the fridge. 

It’s only the mention of food that makes him realize how ravenous he’s feeling. Danny makes a beeline for the kitchen, ignoring everything else, and pulls out the boxes of take-out Jazz left stacked in the fridge. He devours it like he’s been starving for weeks, then gives Ellie her Ecto-Jello, the only food she’s allowed to eat until Frostbite gives the okay for solid, human food. 

Once he’s got her burped and cleaned up, Danny looks out of the kitchen and realizes that Jazz was very productive while he was asleep. The living room isn’t empty anymore; a dark green couch is against the wall, a low, rectangular coffee table made of dark wood in front of it. Two armchairs are on both sides of the couch, and a television has been installed, fixed into the wall. 

Jazz is asleep on the couch. Her legs hang off an armrest and she’s drooling slightly. 

Her phone is charging on the floor, so Danny takes it and snaps a picture of her for later teasing, then sends it to himself and writes a note to her that he’s going out with Ellie to explore the neighborhood.

He’s finally feeling more settled, energized from sleep and food.

In the warm dawn light spilling in through the windows, Danny looks down at Ellie and thinks that they’ll be just fine after all. 

. . .

Four months ago, Danny had hope. He was optimistic. 

Gotham was a fresh start, a new lease of life for Ellie. It is Danny’s attempt to be a single parent, sacrificing college for Ellie, and he’s planning to go out and beat the gangs black and blue if they start anymore shootouts in the next year.

He had just gotten Ellie to sleep. She was actually peacefully taking a nap.

And then a drive by shooter raced down the street, gunshots echoing down the road, and Ellie work up crying. She still hasn’t stopped, despite how Danny rocked her, soothing her as best he could.

They had been outside when Ellie fell asleep, her head on his shoulder. He had been catching up with Sam and Tucker when the car drove by, people ducking and crying out to avoid the bullets. Danny instinctively covered Ellie and made them both intangible, saving them from any stray bullets, but they ruined her nap and he needs to make them pay for that. 

“Shh,” he soothes, “You’re okay. We’re both fine. It’s okay, El, it’s okay.” 

Her little hands clutch at his back, twisting the fabric of his shirt, and she lets out a heartbreaking wail. He pats her back, hurrying down the street to get back to his apartment building, ignoring the looks people were giving them as they passed by. 

“I know it was scary, but you’re alright. You’re always safe with me, El.”

Ellie’s cries down down a little, but they don’t stop. She whimpers, burying her face against his shoulder as he finally reaches their apartment building.

The door’s locked, which wouldn’t be a problem except Danny can’t get his keys from his pocket. He knows he has them! But his pocket refuses to relinquish them and he has to stop every few seconds to pat Ellie’s back, trying in vain to calm her down. 

“We’ll be inside in a second,” he tells her, trying to keep the frustration out of his voice, “as soon as I can get these freaking keys!”

“Hey, you alright?”

Danny startles, whirling around so fast it makes Ellie go quiet, clinging to him so she doesn’t get flung into the air. There’s a guy standing before him in a gray hoodie, looking at him with clear concern. It speaks to Danny’s level of constant exhaustion that he hadn’t clocked someone sneaking up behind him. 

The guy offers an awkward smile. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you or anything. Um, do you need me to open to door? I live here too.”

Danny wonders for a moment if this someone dangerous, someone hoping to hurt Ellie, but she starts to cry again and he steps to the side. “Please. I can’t get my keys.”

“I’m Duke, by the way. I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before.”

“Danny,” he replies, watching as Duke pulls out a large key ring, jangling with the amount of keychains on it, and easily opens the door. “I’ve been here a few months, but I’m usually inside. Or walking around in the mornings with this little monster.”

“That would explain it,” Duke says as he holds the door open, letting Danny in first. “I’m usually in classes at GCU, but I decided to take a mental health day after my lab, so here I am.”

Danny walks in and waits for Duke to follow, making sure the door closes properly behind them. “Thanks. How is GCU? What do you study? I was thinking of going there myself once she gets a little older and can go to school.”

“Oh, I’m majoring in English and Human Services.” He goes to say more, but Ellie wails again and Danny winces.

“I’m so sorry. That drive by woke her up and it’s really rattled her.”

“Hey, no need to apologize. I get it, Gotham is rough to kids.”

Danny tries rocking her back and forth, but it doesn’t help. He resigns himself to another hour of her crying before she exhausts herself, and makes for the stairs, going up to the fourth floor. Duke holds open the door again, then follows after them. It makes Danny wonder if Duke is planning to do something to them, then decides he can beat Duke in a fight, so it’s fine.

Duke doesn’t try to hurt them or steal Ellie away. He opens the door to their floor and stops before they do. “I’m in here,” he says, “If you ever need me to open more doors.”

“Thanks. Um, actually, I might need help opening mine?”

Duke just smiles and makes his way back to them, following them farther into the hall until Danny stops in front of his apartment. 

“If I could just get my keys,” he starts.

“Here, let me hold her for a second so you can get them,” Duke offers. Danny wants to insist that it’s fine, but Ellie cries directly into his ear and Danny, at the end of his rope, passes her over. 

Like magic, Ellie settles as soon as she’s in Duke’s arms. She sniffles and hides her face away, clutching to Duke’s hoodie, but she stops crying. They both go still, surprised, and stare down at her. 

“Seriously?” Danny says as he finally pulls out his keys, “Are you trying to say that I’m the problem?”

Ellie babbles lightly, and Duke turns his head to futilely hide his grin.

He grumbles as he unlocks the door and pushes it open. Ellie is acting as if she’s never been upset before a day in her life, making herself at home in Duke’s arms. 

“I can’t believe this. Betrayed by my own blood.”

Duke laughs as he follows Danny into his apartment, lightly patting Ellie’s back. “It’s always the smallest, cutest ones that do this.”

“Yeah? Do you work with a lot of kids or something? Used to being betrayed by the little ones?”

“I don’t work with kids per se,” Duke says, “But my foster family is a hot mess and the youngest of them likes to keep us all on our toes.”

“Family,” Danny says in a tired, fond tone.

“Family,” Duke agrees.

With his door open and Ellie calm, Danny’s ready to just lay face down on the floor for the rest of the day and not deal with anything else. He moves to take Ellie back, holding his arms out, and Duke tries to pass her over.

The key word being tries. 

Ellie tightens her grip and kicks at Danny. She refuses to be taken away from Duke, making him awkwardly try to pry her off his hoodie. Danny really hopes Duke doesn’t notice how she goes slightly intangible to make his hands fall through her arms and legs. It shouldn’t be noticeable, but it’s hard to focus on anything but a kid that clings to you, so Danny holds out for Duke’s goodwill and silence.

“As nice as it is to meet you, you need to go back to your… parent?” Danny nods when Duke looks at him in askance. “You need to go back to your parent. Okay? Come on, kid, he’s waiting for you.”

Ellie shakes her head, makes a frustrated noise, and then turns and reaches out a grabby hand towards Danny. 

She still refuses to be taken from Duke when Danny tries to pick her up again, so he settles with just letting her hold two of his fingers. 

“I’m so sorry about this,” he says to Duke, face burning. This is why he hasn’t been going out and being social since he moved in; Ellie is a handful even on the best days, and Danny doesn’t want someone to judge him as unfit to parent her and have her taken away.

Duke shakes his head, stepping closer. “It’s all good, man. I don’t mind. It’s not like I had any plans today. I’m already skipping my classes, might as well spend it with you two than sleep all day.”

“Are you sure? I’d be happy to invite you in, but I know Ellie can be a lot and not everyone wants to spend their day off with a baby.”

“I’m sure. Besides, I’d just be down the hall anyways. It’s no skin off my back, man.”

“Well,” Danny says, stepping to the side to give Duke full access to his open doorway, “Come on in, then.”

Ellie keeps them connected, one hand in Duke’s hoodie and the other holding Danny’s fingers, and though her cheeks are still red from how hard she had been crying, she’s calm now with her eyes shining with mischief. 

As the door closes behind them, Danny realizes that this is the first time someone he’s not related to has been inside his apartment. Not even Vlad has come in, always choosing to invite Danny and Ellie out for lunch instead. 

It should make him nervous, but Duke is calm and easy going and kind. 

He’s making silly faces at Ellie to make her laugh, completely at ease with her in his arms, as if he’s done this a thousand times before. 

Gotham is a second chance at life for Ellie. It’s a sacrifice for Danny, to be alone and without friends or family around. He’d been ready to give up everything for Ellie, to focus solely on raising her, but with Duke filling his apartment with laughter, he thinks that he can make a life here too.

All he needs to do is take that first step, reach his hand out, ask Duke to stick around.

He can do this.

[clansnaphance]

I'm really not vibing with whatever staff is doing now. Not only does there seem to be a total internal communication breakdown, there also seems to be an absolute disregard for how the players are affected by this.

Like, ignoring the fact that the consistency argument doesn't even hold water, their takeaway from the Fern/Paisley thread seems to have been "oh we gotta change Breakup and Hypnotic too!!"

And then completely reversing Sandsurge Blend on top of that? A gene that's been out for over half a year and was only listed as having the gradient softened, not reversed? Just a total failure to communicate and an absolute bullheadedness in pushing the changes through despite the very reasonable player concerns?

To top it all off, none of these are bug changes, they are style changes. Someone saw these genes before they went live, greenlighted them, and put them in the game. And now, months upon months later, someone else (presumably) says "fuck that, I want the gene to look like this instead" and that complete change is just... pushed through??

Like. Did they learn nothing from the Butterfly debacle, from Obelisk Flair, hell, from the Eyepocalypse?

What the fuck is going on behind the scenes?

[nights-at-crystarium]

Feeling like shit for several reasons, from insomnia and upcoming bday to mysteriously low activity on my recent stuff. If you've got something nice to say, especially about my comic, please toss me a comment or ask, I'll even enable anon asks for a bit incase anyone feels shy. And a general reminder that my asks are always active, I'm just replying privately in order to keep my blog clean and focused on content (tm).

[us-the-voices-and-more-voices-2]

Conner and bizarro finally meet

on a random lonely day in the Kansas country side, Conner is rocking in a rocking chair reading a book lex got him. it's a big fat comic collection about this guy who works with the FDA for some reason and he's honestly just enthralled. there's a whoosh sound and suddenly Jason and bizarro appear, Jason has his arm over the shoulder of bizarro as he waves over to Conner. Conner is pretty confused who the other guy is.

Conner: hi Jason, who's with you?

Jason: oh this is bizarro, he's kind of my son.

Conner: since when?

Jason: since ages, lex basically was going to kill him but we accidentally broke him out of his containment. long story short he's here he's my son.

bizarro: *waves* bye! I'm bizarro

Conner: hi bizarro

Jason: don't mind him he's words are a bit backwards, something about the programming didn't quite work. all negative verbs and such are positives and all positives are negatives. we are working on it right buddy?

bizarro: I'm resting on it!

Jason: speech therapy is hard, he's perfectly normal he just has some mixed up brain functions. lex actually managed to reverse alot of the degenerative disease problems, so you know bizarro is just struggling with a few things. he's doing way better than before though right buddy?

bizarro: I'm not fine, I'm doing bad! red is doing a bad job

Jason: aw, thanks. I try, we really have to work on the negative verbs, but it's fine we can try again later. anyway I wanted you to meet your brother bizarro!

Conner: *holds out hand* nice to meet you bizarro, what do you like to do?

bizarro: I hate… reading books and watching movies, it’s not fun.

Conner: oh! I love reading books, I have some if you want one.

bizarro: I’m not interested, I hate reading. No thanks!

Conner: wait here I’ll go get one!

Conner runs into the house to go grab some books, he didn’t really know he had a brother but this was kinda cool. Even if it came out of nowhere.

Conner: I have.. Julia Gillard’s cookbook, pride and prejudice, moby dick, and.. bionicules? Honestly I don’t think I’ll read them again so you can have them, my gift!

Bizarro looks at Conner and smiles, he takes the books and starts reading them on the floor of the patio.

Jason: I know I should have called you, but we never have the chance to meet up.

Conner: it’s fine, honestly. I was just reading some comics, been a long week. Just wanted to soak up some sun, since Lex was nagging me about it.

Jason: Lex??

Conner: oh I didn’t tell you, yeah we are kinda trying to fix things between us. I think it has something to do with the whole kryptonite induced cancer, thing. He surprisingly actually does not mean any harm to me, it's so weird.

Jason: damn, even Lex of all people is trying to mend his relationships. Never thought I’d see the day.

Conner: oh it was weird, he came up to the house and actually apologised to me. Lex. APOLOGISED

Jason: NO WAY, I don’t believe you *crosses arms*

Connor: I wish I had it on tape, but no he did. It was so weird, then he told me he actually was pregnant with me.

Jason: wait… *murmurs* when would that have been.

Conner: oh a couple years ago as I’m about 4-5 now.

Jason: oh yeah he did basically disappear for a whole year one year, kinda thought he had some sort of horrible injury or assassin on his tail. Didn’t really think he was having you?

Connor: honestly I would not know, because again didn’t exist yet.

Jason: that’s actually around the time bizarro was made actually, well a year or 2 beforehand.

Connor: yeah makes sense, wait. bizarro is older than me?

bizarro: I'm younger than other superman.

Connor: true I do think your older than me, does lex keep saying anything about dissolving DNA to you guys?

Jason: on yeah that's what originally happened to biz over here, right buddy?

bizarro: me DNA re- reconsti- reconstituted.

Connor: oh damn, that most be why he is motherhen'ing so bad. "you really should be checking for it every 2 weeks" as lex says to me fortnightly now. ugh annoying.

Jason: really? guess I'll take his advice that does unironically sound like a good idea. Connor, well this has been nice. but we have to go or we are going to miss family dinner. see ya

Connor: honestly nice that you dropped by, nice to meet you bizarro!

bizarro: hi other superman!

Connor: you can call me Kon if you like

bizarro: hi Kon!

Connor: see you both enjoy the books! I'm sure bizarro will enjoy them

Jason: oh totally pride and prejudice is my favourite, I was looking for a copy for biz actually it's a wonderful gift, nice seeing you! see you next time for the space pirates?

Connor: always, those fucking space pirates though

bizarro: I love space pirates, they are the best

Connor: lol you're so right, bye guys!!

bizarro + Jason: bye!!!!

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