#and i guess that got kinda ingrained in my mind and now i sometimes feel like people like me more when I'm drunk

[featherymainffins]

I'm always like "Why do I feel so bad and weird today?" after a social occasion during which I drink alcohol and I go "Ohhh wait yeah that will do it." But do I learn anything? No.

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

So request kinda if not just sharing my thoughts in general.

Alex. My boy. What if reader is a civ or even another soldier in a different squad and the whole thing with him joining Farah’s forces indefinitely. I think this can really lend itself to some angst and that good old misunderstanding. Kinda leaning towards civ!reader just because the more miscommunication. I guess it’d have to be an angsty ending though 😳, but regardless-

Love your writing and, as always, feel free to change anything or do whatever gives you the most inspiration

World Caves In

PAIRING: Alex Keller x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: Perhaps it would have been better if your husband had died - at the very least you could understand that.

WORD COUNT: 7.9k

WARNINGS: Angst, misunderstandings/miscommunication, hurt/comfort, vulgar language, abandonment?, Alex being an adorable husband, fluff, etc.

A/N: I was gonna make this an angsty ending but I got my period and thinking about that made me cry so here we are, lmao. Enjoy, Anon!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

When you’d been escorted out of work by two uniformed men, you knew the news wasn’t going to be good. Sitting in the back of a large black car, you spare nervous glances as the vehicle jumps, its wheels going over the last speed bump. Your work building begins to become a fraction of a memory and disappears faster than your resolve. 

The men sit on either side of you, silent, and the only comment is to the driver as you all enter the main road. Swallowing, you part your lips and mutter, plain dread in your tone, “Is he alive?”

All you get is a glance from the front mirror and nothing more. You hunch more in your seat and stew in agony, mind far off on the topic of your husband. 

Alex wasn’t overly reckless, you’d managed to snuff most of that out over the course of the many years you’d expressed concern to him about it, but a large chuck of the blond was still too selfless for his own good. It was hard not to think the worst. 

From training to advising, your husband was always off on one mission to another, far from your quaint and quiet home here—where you waited day after day for even a sliver of contact from him. Alex specialized in so many things that trying to wrap your head around it was impossible.

Even now, you only knew the bare minimum. 

The soft-smiled man worked in the SAD division of the CIA. He’s an Operations Officer. Currently, he’s somewhere across the globe. 

Away from you.

Thinning your lips, you take down a deep breath and settle back into the seat, pulse flying. The men were obviously Agents—you’d looked closely at their badges when they’d first shown their faces at the front desk and had kept within view of your work’s security cameras just in case this was a ruse. When you could find nothing out of the ordinary, you had tensely asked them what was happening. 

They would be holding his dog tags if he was dead, you had reasoned, desperately, a flag. 

It was frantic, the way you had thought that up; how could you not be like that? Alex was the light of your life! With him constantly putting his life on the line, it was inevitable for him to get hurt, sometimes seriously. It was ingrained into your mind the way you would help clean his wounds in the middle of the night when the pain woke him up with a grunt stuck in his throat. The way you would sit half-asleep in his lap and re-wrap bandages while he told you to go back to bed half-heartedly. His hands drifting over your warm skin like he was cascading his fingers up and down the spine of an old book.

You never listened. 

“It’s late, Bug, I can’t keep you up like this.” His drawl echoes in your ear as you rub a heavy palm into your eye. Alex’s hands are both on your hips, squeezing the flesh just below your tiny sleep shorts. You have him sitting on the floor, back resting on the wall and shirt discarded to the side only wearing loose gray sweatpants. A long cut up his left pec is the center of your blurry attention—a wet rag held as you dab at it. Blue eyes narrow at you. “I’m just fine with doing it myself, y’know.”

“You’re being stubborn again,” you utter, the soft light of the bathroom placed at half-capacity to at least try and keep some of the veil of sleep over your heads. “I told you to wake me up when you needed it cleaned.” Your skin brushes his and Alex shivers under you, sighing breathily. “And you’re not keeping me here—I’m helping.” 

A small flash of that full smile, mustache flinching up, “Well when you look so pretty sleepin’ I can’t just shake you awake and tell you to fix me up.” 

You take your free hand and pinch his nose, yawning as he grunts out chuckles. A delicate glance is thrown his way as the rag lowers from reddened skin. Like a butterfly's whisper, you study his face gently; reaching and cupping his cheek with your palm. 

Alex’s lids flutter, heavy weight falling into you as if waiting for this—lips pressing to your inner wrist in reverence. You hold back a tired giggle and feel the corner of his mouth pull up when he feels it.

“All that talk, and yet,” pressing a smooch to his forehead you take your hand back and hear the grumble he lets out after, “you still like it better when I’m the one that’s working on you.”

“Can’t complain too much,” he admits slowly as his head leans back to tap the wall, “my wife’s hands are way softer than mine.” 

Alex’s grip on your flesh tightens when you sipe away the last line of crimson from the wound, tattooed arms flexing. 

“Sorry,” you whisper, watching his eyes slightly awash with pain. “Got caught on a stitch.”

“Ah, well,” the blond sighs, shifting “I suppose I can forgive you.” 

Laughing quietly as the house settles, you shake your head and rest your forehead on his. 

“Such a saint,” your lips utter teasingly as Alex smiles wide, his hands moving higher to your waist. You lean into him, stealing his warmth as your tired eyes flutter; feeling his thumbs run circles over the flesh of your lower spine. 

A content breath escapes you.

“Go back to bed, Sweetheart,” Alex whispers, lips brushing yours like silk, the bristles of his facial hair tickling you. “I can do the rest, promise.”

“Know you can,” your mutterings are barely heard, but the man seems to register them, sea-glass gaze incredibly soft. He chuckles at your sleepiness, one hand leaving your waist to capture the back of your head; weaving into your hair and gently massaging your scalp. You practically melt into him, limbs going slack, slurring out, “Quit it. Wanna help, Alex.”

His laughter shakes you, and with a huff escaping, you bury your burning face into his neck and lean into him, careful of his wound even in your fatigued state. 

“No offense, Bug,” Alex shifts, grunting as he easily maneuvers you until you’re laying in his arms, inked forearms under your knees and behind your shoulders with vivid images of grim reapers, snakes, and angels guarding you close. A kiss is firmly pressed to your forehead as the blonde smirks downwards, “But you’re about as helpful to me right now as an empty mag.”

You grumble, trying to disappear into his skin and letting him dig his stubble into your cheek. 

“If you bring me back to bed before you’re done,” you yawn and close your eyes, “I’m divorcing you.”

He laughs deeply into your ear, body shaking as he pulls back and sends you an incredulous look. 

“Hell, we can’t have that, can we, Mrs. Keller? I’d lose my damn mind.” 

It’s a long drive, and you worry through the entirety of it. A primal, whole-body-shaking type of fear. You’d built a life with Alex and loved him more than anything or anyone that had come before. Even if he was gone a lot, that had never dulled what the two of you had—your marriage was nothing short of something you would find in a fairy tale; flashing pictures on pages with vivid colors and tender glances. The very cover itself is made of the finest leather and inlaid with gold calligraphy. 

Please, Alex, you plead in your head as you remember his loving gaze—his back as he makes supper in the kitchen and hums to himself. Please be okay.

The men hold open the car door when it comes to a stop outside a very obviously abandoned apartment complex near the outskirts of town. You get out quickly. Looking around, you take in the overgrown grass and the broken concrete with a knife in your lung; holding back the flood of anxious tears. 

Though, confusion takes president. 

“Where did you…?” You turn to look at the Agents, but they’re already clambering back into their car and snapping the doors shut. Wide-eyed and slack-jawed you watch them speed off as a cloud of dust drifts into the air. 

Pulse echoing in your ears, you watch the vehicle speed down the road and disappear. 

Swallowing, you whisper, “What the actual fuck?” Turning in circles, no one else is around. A part of you starts to worry less for Alex and more for yourself.

They were CIA, you reiterate, I checked their badges—Alex showed me the standard ones. Could I have missed something? 

Expression nervous, you shift on your feet before your stuttering legs take you closer to the abandoned building, not really seeing much choice here. You could imagine the scene from The Wizard Of Oz—when the man pulls back the curtain and all is revealed. 

That said, you could really only hope that was what was actually happening to you and you weren't getting kidnapped or shot. Taking a deep breath, you clench your fists and enter the building through the open front door. 

It was in the wide lobby that you locked eyes with Kate Laswell. You blank, mouth parting as the scent of concrete and decaying furniture get stuck in your nose. 

The woman seems highly agitated, brows tight and jaw clenched. Her white blouse had been flattened multiple times by rough hands, lanyard swaying on her neck like Alex’s dog tags would. She holds a file in her hands; the paper bulky as if holding something more than just paper inside its manila clutches.

“Kate?” You ask, confused, “What are you doing here? What’s all of this about?” Taking quick steps forward you splay your hands as your voice grows more serious. “Where’s my damn husband?” 

You didn’t know Laswell personally, in fact, when you had first got a glimpse of her here, you’d forgotten the older woman’s name for a moment. The first meeting between the two of you had been at a CIA get-together that Alex had been forced to go to because of his position—some celebration because a group of ICBMs had been taken back into US hands after being stolen. Your husband had introduced you to the Station Chief over a drink with a hand on the small of your back.

But it didn’t stop you now from talking to her like you’d known her for years. Not when fear was flooding your veins.

“What the hell is going on?” You say harshly, glancing around the room for any sight of someone else here. 

Kate sighs heavily but wastes no time in speaking, her professional tone and serious face leaving your already fast-paced heart racing.

“Alex isn’t coming back to the United States.” Your eyes blank, staring into icy blue. She holds out her manila folder, jaw tight. Blunt. “He’s a deserter.” 

It’s like your entire being halts; your skin suit feels as if it’s sagging on your bones with the weight of a cinder block connected by hooks to the floor. 

What did she just say?

Opening and closing your mouth you stutter, lids blinking rapidly. 

“I…” Fingers flinching in the air, an exhalation from your nose sounds more like a wheeze. Kate watches stiffly, taking a look at the floor before returning her attention to you; emotion flashes in her eyes. “...W-what?”

“Keller deserted his post—I tried to speak with the Colonel but there’s only so much I can do.” Laswell takes a deep breath as you continue to go through shock. Alex wasn’t coming home? How, why? “He’s staying in Urzikstan to fight with the Liberation Force.”

“Urzikstan?!” You gape, but the woman continues. 

“For all intents and purposes, I shouldn’t be here, but Alex asked me personally to hand these to you.” Again the manilla folder is shown to you, but when you only glare and fight the fear and confusion rampaging in your gut a sigh echoes out and it’s placed on a termite-eaten side table. “Even communicating with you could put you in danger now that he’s gotten on the bad side of the entire SAD and CIA branches. This is all I can do.”

“What the fuck,” you whisper to yourself, hand coming up to capture your mouth. 

“If Alex re-enters the states—he’ll be arrested and tried in a court of law. If he’s not shot on sight for what he knows.” Kate watches you closely, shaking her head in pity. “I’m sorry,” there’s a strained pause, “but he’s made his decision.” 

As she brushes past you, leaving the folder on the side table, you feel your wide eyes well with tears—confused and horrified. But he’s coming back to me, right? Alex…Alex wouldn’t leave me here alone.

It was common knowledge that over the last years the blond had gotten more agitated at his line of work; the orders that he didn’t want to follow but had no choice. No voice. But he can’t just abandon you...could he? You’d taken vows. Had a happy marriage and relationship. Loved each other.

He can’t just…he can’t…

Your hands shake and you’re unable to stop them, gaze locked on that unassuming manilla folder. Kate pauses in the doorway, peeking back and seeing your sickly-looking face, the agony written in the lines of your forehead. Like the picture of a loyal wife being told her husband was never coming home. And Alex wasn’t even dead. Resentment begins to burn. 

But he made his bed. 

“He told me to tell you that he wouldn’t be angry if you wanted to leave him,” was all she said, a final knife being stabbed into your heart and being ripped out like a live wire. Electricity makes your back go stiff in an instant. “It would be best to never tell anyone that we met.” 

You were alone, full body shivers and bile stuck in the back of your throat. Cold sweat coats your palms, a sticky mess of your barebones disturbance. 

“He…” your voice is hoarse, bouncing off the far walls. “Alex left me here? He left me.”

It was easier to say that the sun had exploded and you were waiting for the last beam of light to incinerate you. Inside of your skull your brain pounds as, in a mad dash of desperation, you rush to the manilla folder and rip it open with vibrating arms.

Having Laswell tell you that Alex wouldn’t be mad if you…if you…the hairs on the back of your neck rise and suddenly you’re angry beyond a sliver of a doubt. It was insulting.

“Alex fucking Keller,” the paper opens to the bulk of your husband's dog tags and a flip phone—reports like his own personal file and the patch that he had once worn so proudly on his combat vest. Red, white, and blue dig into your retinas; it was old, worn beyond measure, but that little patch was something that was never removed. Not even to be cleaned. 

“The dirtier it is,” Alex had commented on the American flag patch when you’d offered to mend it for him, cringing at all the blood stains and dirt flecking off it as he slipped his vest off in the foyer of your home. “The luckier I am.” 

“I think the stench of it alone will frighten off anyone who comes near,” you had raised a brow, smirking up at him as he walked over, laughing. A kiss is placed on your lips, Alex’s bright smile transferring over to you as if able to spread from his mouth to yours that simply. You sigh dreamily. 

He pulls back with a tiny wink as you gaze up at him, cheekily stating, “That’s the plan, Sweet Thing. Gotta make sure I come home to you in one piece.”

You brush your hands over it and think that maybe it would have been better if he had died. Then you could understand why he’s doing this to you. Anger spreads into rage. 

Looking next at the phone and dog tags, all you do is shake your head and slam the folder shut, bitter tears tracking your face. You can’t read anything—can’t see his name imprinted on that metal that used to press coldly into your skin as you both slept in bed. You don’t care about the phone or the files. 

None of it mattered.

“He fucking left me here,” it’s like you’re a broken record replaying over and over again. “You absolute bastard, Keller!” Yelling, you press your fingers into your face, hands spreading over your eyes and mouth to muffle your enraged sobs. 

“You’re still alive and you left me alone.” 

Only the abandoned building echoes your pain; replaying it back over and over again as your wails echo around the lobby like a symphony of laughing jesters. 

—

The phone that Laswell had given you had been going off at least three times every day—morning, noon, and at night. You had stared at it with fury, knowing exactly who was calling even if the thing was displaying an unknown number. By now you had steeped in your anger enough that you had found yourself snapping at friends and family alike when asked if you were alright. 

You wished Alex was here so you could hit him upside the head for being so stupid. So you could hate him until you had the pleasure to love him again.

Urzikstan. 

You’d looked up the country after you had spent two days straight in bed, afterward manically cleaning the house with a glare that could light fires. The far-off place was a land utterly divided by war. Russian occupation, a terrorist group; the force that your husband had joined. Mass against mass against mass.

Brick meets wall.

And Alex had chosen to stay—without a doubt because he’d seen the dire situation and had used that damnable good heart of his to empathize to the max. Forget donations, humanitarian work, or anything else, the man had fucking decided to join in a Liberation Force. 

As much as you wanted to say you hated him; had wanted to slam your gold wedding band to the table with a good riddance for betraying you like that…you still had his dog tags around your neck, and the ring was still on your finger. 

“Too good for his own sake,” you grumble, shoving dirty clothes into the washer like they had tried to attack you. “Deserted the fucking CIA, Jesus Alex. Do you even think when I’m not around?” 

There were only so many times you could curse his name until you felt a deceiving needle of pride slither itself into your skull. You could describe Alex as many things but he would always be steadfast in causes that truly needed his help. He often told you that the best missions were the ones where he could do so much more than take out a target—he strived to help the individuals he met. Form bonds. 

God forbid something came in between the blond and the ones he’d chosen to give his loyalty to.

You slam the washer shut and stomp into the living room after starting another cycle. Stress cleaning was really not a good look on you—the entire house was without a single spec of dust but you yourself felt like you’d run seven marathons. Clenching your teeth, you go and drop to the couch, a grunt falling from your lips as your head hits the pillow.

Staring at the ceiling, you finally take in the utter silence of the house—not a home, because it could only be that if Alex was here—with a pained crease forming on your brow. The pipes spit water, and the washer grunted its mechanical garble…but there was no humming man making food in the kitchen. No blond hair visible as a head rests on your chest; your fingers playing in the locks that act like silk as you part them, the man on top of you purring. Body a weighted blanket.

“Was it really that easy,” you whisper to nothing, lip quivering. “Was it really that easy to stay away, Alex? I thought…I…” 

Eyes wrenching shut, you hear the phone right at noon again as it sits on the coffee table. And you let it. 

There were voicemails, no doubt, but you hadn’t thought to listen to those either. This small act of rebellion was all you could act on but for the simple fact that it also harmed you. Barbed wire steadily digging deeper as it kept your hands wound to your sides—neck plastered to the pillow as bright silver spikes glinted. You stare at the unknown caller who really wasn’t all that unknown and watch the screen light, vibrating over the wood in steady intervals. 

What hurt the most was that if he’d asked you to come along—become an Expat just for him—you would have said yes. You could find a new job, a new place to call home. Humanitarian work would have been at the top of your list and Alex…well….he would still be fighting, just as he always had. 

But at the very least you would have been there to clean his wounds. Together. You’d both promised on that altar to do nothing less. He could’ve asked. He should have asked. 

Alex…

“Urzikstan,” you mutter for what seems like the fiftieth time. When the ringing stops a few moments later the new voicemail icon flashes. Placing your arm over your mouth, you clench your hand so tight it starts to shake, whispering into your skin, “Fine. I guess you did make your bed. And…and I won't be there to lie in it with you.” No matter how much I want to.

You slip the wedding band off of your finger and place it beside the phone before turning and burying your head into the cushions; feeling more numb than you ever had before.

—

It carried on like this for three months. The ring didn’t move from the coffee table and neither did the flip phone; the file had all but been tossed in the trash as it sat teetering on the living room desk. You carried on as well as you could, all things considered. 

Work was a blur, going out with friends even harder to enjoy, and any enjoyment of hobbies or activities was dulled to an almost gray existence. Like a ghost, you wafted through experiences with dog tags and a withering appearance. Eventually, you just stopped going out unless it couldn’t be helped. You still bought meals for two at the grocery store out of habit. You placed blankets where Alex used to sleep beside you. You went to work. 

And still, the calls never stopped except for a brief pause after the first month. You’d thought he’d finally given up, but no. Back at it.

It had gotten to a point now where the device was automatically deleting all recent voicemails—too little space in the inbox. 

Angry curiosity was tempting you. It would be easy, you reason, to simply play the first message and listen. The worst part of it was that you’d begun to forget Alex’s voice and perhaps that was why, on that dead-aired Saturday, you snatched the phone and brought it into the kitchen. 

Firmly planting it on the counter, you stand behind one of the island chairs and glare, hands tapping into the wood. 

“I’m giving you three minutes, Alex,” you speak as if he’s still here, as if his form stands right behind you, head tilted like a damn dog with that infectious smile and those sea-glass eyes. “Three minutes,” your fingers snap the device open and you go to your voicemails; jaw tight, “and if you don’t hear you groveling, Keller, I’m deleting all of them and chucking this phone into the sink.” 

You go down the line to the very first message, small buttons clicking, and before you can stop yourself you press play.

It begins with a small moment of silence. A cough. 

“Hey,” he says your first name, not one of your epithets. Your brows deepen their annoyed furrow, but you can’t help the uptick in your heart rate. Inside your flesh, the sinews of your throat close in on itself like a balloon. “I…I’m guessin’ I have a good enough ass-kicking waiting for me since you didn’t answer.” A strained laugh before another pause. You feel acidic tears boil behind your lids. “I’m not surprised—not really. Done some stupid things but never something like this.” You can hear him shake his head, voice going lower in defiance. “But they were asking me to leave Urzikstan in a worse place than when I entered it. This Liberation Force, Bug, it…they’re good people and what they’re asking me to do…” Alex huffs, growling under his throat. “I can’t stand by that. The man you chose to marry, he can’t stand by that. They need me here. I’m not asking you to not be angry—to not hate me for this. I know I damn well deserve it.”

You let your tears hit the counter, head slightly bowing over. That was your Alex. 

“You need a leash,” your strained voice hits the walls, bouncing off picture frames and your husband's cooking utensils. The small pieces that make up the whole picture frame of your life. “God,” you huff wetly, “you’re going to get yourself killed.”

“I know I should have talked to you first, figured out some plan. But, uh,” Alex’s throat gets choked up, and you snap a hand to your mouth when you realize he’s close to tears. He clears his throat. “Hell, I should have done a lot of things, Sweetheart.” 

You can hear shouts in the background, calls in Arabic. The pounding of a door and a woman’s voice.

“Alex, we need to move! Everyone is ready—Barkov’s lab cannot be left standing a moment longer.” The hurried hand to the line muffles the words, but you hear him anyway.

“Affirmative!” He comes back. “I don’t have time to explain more, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for… everything. I’d understand if you don’t use the passport Laswell’ll give you, but that doesn’t mean I’m just going to stop calling.” Alex laughs and your face freezes.

“Passport?”

“What kind of Husband would I be if I just let the most perfect woman in the world go without a fight, huh? I’ll be waiting until you call to tell me to shut the hell up and leave you alone or that you’re down in the airport waiting.” There’s a large sound of combat vests being clicked on—pistols being situated into holsters and a rifle strap slipped over a chest. Alex suddenly pauses and you stare at the phone blankly. “I know this is a big ask, Doll, and I know I’m horrible for even springin’ this on you when I’m half a world away from our bed. But I had to try, even if it was selfish. I just…I just really need to hear your voice telling me if I’m an idiot or not for thinking this up. Call me back soon…or when you run out of my clothes to burn in the firepit out back…I love you, okay? More…more than anything.” 

There’s a minute or two of nothing, just Alex’s ragged breathing, and then there’s an older man’s voice ordering him to hurry up. The line clicks. 

Your ears ring as it does, wide eyes dripping tears from your bottom lashes as your lungs chill over. Hand slowly flinching out, you ghost over the keys before clicking on the following voicemail. As it plays, your feet start to take you backward at a snail's pace, your spine flattering against the wall as blood drains to your feet. 

“Hey, it’s me again. I still haven’t heard from you—that’s alright. Take your time.” Steadying yourself with a hand, you look out of the kitchen and get a glimpse of the manila folder on the desk, its tan hide sucking you in. Pulse in your throat, you rush out to grab it as Alex’s voice echoes. “I know Laswell gave you the file, I trust her that much at least.” A sigh. “But even if it’s just to yell at me, please pick up the phone soon. Let me save some of my dignity and give me a chance to beg on an open line, huh, Sweetheart…? But I guess that’s all—gotta go. I love you.” 

You don’t play the next message because you’re ripping open the file with rabid hands, seeing exactly as you had when Laswell left it for you. Alex’s mission report; his patch. The dog tags around your neck clink together like a song, some brutal rhythm. 

“Passport?” Grasping the mission report you pick it up, flipping through the multiple pages of blacked-out words and more confused than ever. “Airport?” 

The words come out as whimpers, hands so shaky that the pages slip from your fingers. They slam to the floor in a flurry of bond paper and you curse loudly, snatching for the remnants futilely. Grasping on your hands and knees hitches build in your breath as your fingers dance rapidly before they slip across something distinctly not paper. 

Small, tiny, and blue. Laminate. 

Your very blood seems to stop in your veins. Pushing back one last piece of paper, you come face to face with a singular American passport. Gasping down mute breaths and licking your lips, you pick it up lightly, leaning back on your legs as if you’d just slammed your head into the concrete. 

“Alex…” you whisper to no one. 

Flipping the hard cover open, a small, palm-sized piece of paper slips out to your lap as your own face stares at you in image form. You blink for a moment before going to take the note and separate the ends. Formal script is inside, stiff lettering. Not your husband's handwriting, but you didn’t have to guess who’d written out these directions for you. 

Laswell.

There was a destination in fountain pen ink—an airport near the Urzikstanian and Georgian border. Seeing as Urzikstan was on the travel-ban list due to the turbulence of the government and terrorist threats, you wouldn’t be able to get there directly. 

But you supposed Kate had your back for that too. 

Georgian safehouse - wait for Keller there. It’s secure. More directions and then a small gap. A pause. Good luck.

You don’t know how long you stare at that paper—that passport. The first thing you think about is how could Alex ask you to do this. Uproot yourself with the snap of a finger. You wouldn’t be able to bring anything beyond what could fit in a few suitcases. No furniture, no large amount of clothes, or even sentimental items. You’d have to quit your job; leave behind family and friends to travel to a war-torn country.

But he’d said it was your choice, and he wouldn’t push you to make it. He’d said you could leave him if you wanted—keep all of this that you’d built here.

…But you’d built it together, hadn’t you? 

You think of Alex’s bright smile and his mustache. His tattoos. How he’d hold you so tight in the long hours of sleep that you half-believed he thought you’d disappear if he didn’t; nuzzling his nose into the back of your head and grumbling out nonsense. The way you could trace his scars and watch as he willingly submitted to your praise, delicate lips curving into sheepish grins as you place soft kisses on the raised skin. Red cheeks.

This place wasn’t a home without Alex in it.

You look over at the coffee table and lock onto the gold of your wedding band.

—

Getting into Georgia was a long affair of paperwork and screenings—not days but months of legal jargon that Alex had dodged entirely because of his desertion. By the time you’d landed in country, you were wholly exhausted down to the very marrow of your bones. You get through the checkpoints, pick up your bags, and look out at the entirely new world outside of the airport’s windows. 

“Okay,” you swallow saliva and nod carefully before looking down at Laswell’s directions to the safehouse. 

You slip the paper into your pocket after memorizing the address, tips of your fingers brushing the smooth surface of the flip phone. Clenching your eyes shut, you take your hand back out and go to try and hire a driver. You were here, but that doesn’t mean all of this was forgiven. 

After you find someone able to drive you to where you need to go, you end up standing with a quaint hostel ahead of you, home far behind. Gazing slightly nervous at the strange place you’ve found yourself, you think of Alex’s hand on the small of your back and sigh; caressing the cool metal of the ring around your finger. 

Walking forward, you hitch your bags over your shoulders and grit your teeth against the hot sun. When you meet the owner at the front desk you state your name and ask for a bed. 

The man’s eyes widen for a moment before he looks at something on his countertop, raising a brow in thought. Grabbing at a stack of papers he holds up a finger and begins digging. Too tired and overwhelmed to ask what was wrong, you just watch and rub at your face. 

“Ah,” the man snaps his fingers and laughs to himself, “here it is! I knew I had placed the note somewhere, Mrs. Keller.” You blink, confused, but the man just takes a key from the wall and motions for you to follow. Sparing a glance around for a moment, you slowly slink after, not really having a choice.

“I remember your Husband coming to me—the blond with the tattoos.” The owner looks back, making sure you’re following. He motions to his right side with splayed fingers. “Scars on the side of his head, to reserve a room.”  

Alex was here? How much had he done already pertaining to the chance that you would show up? 

“Y-yeah,” you chuckle stiffly, “that was him. Sorry for being so long I was…preoccupied.”

“You’re lucky he kept up on payments,” the man grumbles, opening a door with the key and motioning you inside. “My pleasure to finally have you, regardless.”

Entering the small and sparse room, you take the key from him with a thankful smile and a quick thank you before he closes the door. As the barrier thuds, you sway on your feet. Blinking. Breathing hard. You drop all of your bags with a heavy thump that echoes off the walls in a single instant. Heart pounding at everything that was striking you in an instant, you walk slowly back to the bed. You don’t bother to take a shower or brush your teeth; even change. 

You fall down on the mattress and pray you don’t have to dream about Alex sending money to this place every week simply on a suffocating hope that you’d come back to him. You pray you don’t dream at all. 

The phone wakes you up only thirty minutes later.

Groaning, you shift your body so your hand can snake into your pocket, grasping it and tossing it to the pillow beside your head. You’d never made it through all of the voicemails without crying, so you just deleted all of them and let the inbox fill back up again. 

Feeling the dog tags press against your chest as you form your chest into the bed, you shove your head downward and listen to it ring. 

Bring-bring, bring-bring, bring-bring

It happens in a flurry of a sleep-addled mind and a horrible desperation to see your husband after nearly a full year of no contact. You flip it open and answer with your nose pressed deeply into the pillow below you. Ears straining and pulse running like a starving cat after a mouse. 

Dead silence. 

“...Sweetheart…?” It’s pitiful how fast the tears flood you at Alex’s shocked and tiny voice. Tight breathing sounds over the line from his end and your other hand digs into your scalp. A small, cut-off laugh. “Hey…I—” 

You hang up with a vicious slam of the screen and let the silence settle again. People walk the hall; the sun dims as night sets in. This isn’t home. Dropping the phone back down to the pillow you curl into a tight ball and cry yourself back to sleep.

If you had to guess, you’d say the small curse was what woke you for the second time, though you didn’t register it until minutes later. That muffled ‘shit’ as a foot hits your dropped bags near the door. But then it’s silent again and your ears only twitch to the gentle sigh that brushes against your face; a thumb and forefinger caressing your cheek as hair is placed back over your ear. 

Perhaps the only reason at all as to why you don’t wake up screaming bloody murder is because of his calluses. They burn your flesh as they slide over it—as ingrained into your very being as your own heart is. As if Alex’s touch was another organ that was needed to survive. More important than a liver or a spleen. 

When your eyes slip open he’s leaning back in a chair he had turned to face you, built form shifting as the rickety wood creaks. No more than five feet away sits your husband, and all you do is suck in a tight breath and lock gazes with soft sea glass. 

Alex freezes at the same time, strong brow line peeling back and mustache stiff as his lips immediately thin. You both stare for a good while, a thread of tension entering the air. The night deepens. 

He speaks first, in the dense hours of confrontation. Your heart feels like it’s been stuck with a spear, vignette at the sides of your vision, and a blooming center of only Alex’s body and his messy hair. The scarf around his neck. The combat vest. 

Had he driven all this way to see if you were here? Because you’d answered the phone? But you hadn’t even said anything. Your head stays on the pillow, wondering if you were hallucinating.

“Hey,” Alex forces a chuff before he glances away, nervous arms crossed. “Hey there, Doll. Sorry that I woke you. I…ah,” your eyes bore into him, hand on the sheets slowly clenching into a fist. “I figured there was an off chance you would be here.” He clears his voice, throat closing on a trying laugh. “Guess I’m glad I looked. You should remember to lock your door, by the way.” 

At the sight of your rising glare, his tone drops, expression falling even more than it already was. Deep well of sadness grew in his eyes, lips pulling back in a strained agony. 

Alex’s gaze drops to the floor. 

“I know,” is what hits the air, “I know, Sweetheart. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t fucking cut it,” you push your body up as his large shoulders tighten—such an accomplished and strong man brought to a squirming heap when his wife’s sharp words hit him in the chest. “What the hell were you thinking, Alex?!”

Heavy feet hit the floor as you stalk over, fatigue and tiredness pushed all the way to the back of your mind yet also enhancing your emotions. Bitter rage was sparking—held in far too long. Alex’s eyes don’t meet yours, so you grab him by the chin and angle his head up to you. 

At the sight of your red sclera and the baggy gaze he stills. Under your grip his beard tickles you, the soft grip of flesh that makes you want to wrap your arms over him and weep; make him promise to never leave like that again. 

“I…I wasn’t…”

“That’s the thing isn’t it—you didn’t think.” Sea glass floods over, going glossy; hurt etched into both of your faces as if carved from the same stone. But you don’t stop now, growling out as your skin burns. Alex isn’t sad that you’re angry, he’s sad he’s done this to you. “You disappeared, Alex. Laswell had to just drop all of this shit on me. I thought you had died.” You growl. “Do you know what that feels like?!” 

“Sweetheart—”

“Shut up! You let me talk,” he falls silent, hand delicately coming up to grab your wrist. Not to pull you away, just to hold you. To feel your skin and the heat of it. You sniffle and his eyes break. “And the worst part of it was that if you had just asked I would have followed you right then and there.” Alex sharply looks back at you. “But the biggest insult was that you thought I would leave you—that you even considered that.” 

Shock slowly gives way to a blank expression. He was confused, now.

Was that what you were angry about?

“You’re an idiot, Keller. Hot-headed. Cocky.” You shake your head, but a tiny smile begins to bleed onto Alex’s face. Watching you like you’d just sprung a million dollars on him. His grip slightly squeezes, calloused thumb running the span of your knuckles as you shake his head with your hand. “Damn nuisance to my health, is what you are.” Trying to remain angry is tough when he’s looking at you like that—starstruck—but you spit out, “It’s insulting that you thought I’d just give up on us that easily.”

“Most women don’t want a man who’s wanted for desertion, Doll,” Alex whispers, testing a smirk on his lips with his expression still strained. 

“Arrogant!” your voice snaps. “Not a single brain cell in his stupid little head.” You let go of his chin and grip the sides of his skull, feeling the dirty but still soft strands of hair before you huff at him. 

But he just looks at you and smiles, face smooshed. 

“...You really came?” Alex asks quietly. You fall silent and after a moment you deflate.

After the silence of trying to keep the sneer on your face, you let it drop, lips quivering slightly. Anger glints with pain. “I should hit you upside the head, Keller, for all the worry you’ve put me through,” you grunt, eyes flashing over every new bruise on his face—every cut you’d have to re-learn. He looks tired. 

Oh, Alex…

Before the blond can respond to you, you’ve captured the back of his head and shoved it into your chest; face burying itself into his scalp to bring forth that scent of dust and cologne. You whimper out as he grips you around the waist with just as much fervor, “Did you think that I would stay away?”

Alex says nothing, only the slight tremor in his bicep betraying him. You firmly kiss his skull and run your fingers through his hair, the both of you so tight together there’s barely enough room in your ribs to allow your lungs to inflate. 

But holding him was more important than air, a sentiment that Alex seemed to share entirely. 

“I’m so glad you’re here, Bug.” He mutters into your skin. “Feels good to be able to hold my girl again.”

You stay like that for a long time before you pull back and capture his cheeks, face pulling closer before you kiss him deeply. It’s not a fast-paced or desperate thing—no clashing teeth or tongue. That wasn’t what you needed right now. 

All that you needed was Alex. Your home. 

You both separate and the blond grabs the back of your neck, forcing you back so he can lay another on the side of your mouth; nose, cheek. Anywhere that he could reach as his mustache tickled you to a smile. Giggles worm out and you wiggle out of his grip to wipe at your cheeks, spreading away tiny tear tracks and saliva.

“Quit it,” you whisper, and Alex gazes up at you reverently from his chair.

“Negative, Ma’am,” he says, equally as soft, not even blinking. “Don’t wanna.” You roll your eyes, face hot. 

The seconds draw long of only watching one another before you shake your head and move your hands to shimmy out of the dog tags around your neck. Alex’s gaze locks on the metal swiftly, smile shifting.

“You’re horrible.” You huff, quietly, before shoving his dog tags at his chest. “Now put them back on.”

“But I’m not in the—” Your glare shuts him up. Alex clears his throat sheepishly. “Yes, Ma’am.” 

You nod and watch as they’re resituated around his neck. Right where they should be. When you take a step back to really take him in, there’s a moment where you skim over the state of his left leg. After all, the metal was barely noticeable in the dark. But when you do see it every little part of you shrivels up with confused pain.

Alex stands with a noticeable preference to his right and as he towers over you, fingers coming to grab at your face and slowly drag it back up.

A slightly apologetic look washes over him.

“I’m guessing you didn’t listen to all of the voicemails.” 

“Alex…” you slowly cut off. “You…” Staring at the metal limb instead of the real one, you gape. “...how?”

“Y’know,” he laughs, but you don’t find this funny. He notices and kisses your forehead, tapping his scalp to yours and saying after a contemplative pause, “I think it’s better if I don’t explain it. I’m alright, just...” Alex smiles cheekily, the spark that you love coming back easily as it shimmers in his eyes, “just a little more carbon fiber and aluminum than I was before.” 

You hug him tightly.

“I’m sorry, I should have come sooner—I was just angry, and I wasn’t—”

“Don’t apologize to me,” Alex sighs, grabbing you and maneuvering the both of you to the bed. He sits and you end up laying in his lap like that moment in the bathroom ages ago. “None of this is your fault, okay? You deserve to be angry. I shouldn’t have put such a burden on you.” 

You sigh in his arms, head under his chin and heart finally able to return to a steady pace. Licking your lips, you ask, “Does it hurt?” 

Sending a glance down, Alex’s lips twitch with a grin before it disappears. He hums.

“Sometimes.” Your hand grips his opposite cheek and you lay a kiss on his chin, caressing his flesh.

It’s a tentative kind of love. An understanding and a plea all at once. 

The blond leans back against the wall and pulls you closer, closing his eyes. Finally relaxing for the first time in what seems like forever. But his girl is in his arms, and he’s never been this calm.

“I have a home in Urzikstan,” he confesses lightly, fingers brushing your body and giving way to shivers. You listen, eyes fluttering at the vibrations of his words. “It’s safe—protected. I…want us to live there.” Alex nods against your head, swallowing. “If you’ll come back with me.”

“Yes,” your answer is immediate. “Anywhere, as long as you’re with me.” 

You feel his breath hitch, soft chuckles brushing your hair far better than any comb. There’s a small tremor in his voice as he says, “I love you. God, do I love you.” 

Your lips pull up, body growing heavy with a final sense of home.

“I love you, too.” Soft kisses and tight arms. Shifting tattoos. “But if you ever do something like that again without talking to me, I’m telling Laswell she has permission to put a bullet in your ass.”

His loud laughs shake your body, and you press your face into his neck to steady yourself; smiling.

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[dogfags]

i think my life would be better if I didn't mind they/them being used on me but it quite honestly feels like an insult sometimes when people assume those are my pronouns or they think I look weird and androgynous so they default to those. I know I am weird and androgynous but it's just annoying to have to be like no I'm just.. a man. when I have put so much effort into passing and going stealth. and for sure even tho I'm just a man I have some weird nonbinary feelings as well. bc I'm trans and being "binary trans" doesn't mean u don't have a complicated relationship with gender or experience a bit of gender queerness. I mean I identified and lived as a lesbian for several years of my life so ofc a part of that is ingrained in me. idk, I kind of wish more people would look at gender as something you do rather than something you innately are. I don't think I innately am anything. I think I used to live as a girl and now I live as a man. maybe that makes me nonbinary or maybe that just makes me a normal person. idk. a lot of the trans narratives that have been popularized by the media are just so unrelatable to me I almost don't consider myself the same thing as them. I don't think I transitioned bc I was a boy born into a girl's body I think I transitioned bc I'd just rather live as a man and so I am. of course I also have debilitating dysphoria but yk. I don't think I was "born this way" and I didn't show any signs as a child or even give my gender a second thought until I was older. I got a taste of female puberty and was like nah I'd rather opt out of this whole woman thing. so I did. and now I'm a man. it's that simple to me idk.

but yeah if I liked he/they I think it would make my life better bc then I wouldn't be like. dysphoric and offended when ppl would default to they for me simply bc I have green hair. I don't even dress femininely almost ever it's just the hair I think lmao. or bc my name is gender neutral. I guess I am androgynous in the face also. I do not have a chiseled jawline although I do have a mustache and it is pretty dark now. idkkkkk man

I've lived so many lives already in just this one that idk how to classify myself anymore. I've been every letter of the LGBT and dated/fucked someone of every gender and sexuality lmao. but I still think it's kinda annoying when ppl deny my masculinity or maleness upon seeing me and default to they/them when I Try So Hard to pass. obviously it's not their fault, they've been told it's rude to assume anyone's pronouns and I am fully self aware of the way I look and come off. I almost feel like I can't even correct people when they call me they bc I know they're just trying to be.. nice or something. like how would I even go about correcting that, "thanks for the consideration but I am in fact just a man" ???

I think in terms of gender identity I can get behind the vibes of he/they being used for me in theory, but in practice it makes me feel like a freak. it's like a glaring neon sign that's like, you look WEIRD and idk what you are bc you're WEIRD. I know this shit wouldn't happen if I was cis and presented exactly the same as I do now. I feel extremely vulnerable and almost outed when people call me they. like it tells everyone in the room that I'm Different. and despite the fact I dye my hair crazy colors and have 7 facial piercings and stretched ears I actually do not want to stick out. I just love the alternative look. but I don't want attention drawn to me. I don't want people to look at or talk to me. it's a struggle I've had my entire life. id much rather blend in than stand out but literally everybody knows who I am and my name bc I just have an appearance that is so jarring. ugh.

I even had my instructor for some reason "correct" himself on my pronouns, he literally got it right the first time then went "er, they-" like ??? come on man. when have I ever told anyone I want to go by they here??? is the mustache not enough?? do I have to grow out my patchy ass stubble as well??? for a split second sometimes I think about going by he/they and then I am called they in real life and cringe so hard. rahhh.

[perfectpaperbluebirds]

@sicktember Prompt # 20: Doctor Visit/Checkup

Title: The Best Medicine

Fandom: N/A

Based on this post by me. (Sick doctor)

A physician leaves work miserably sick. His RN girlfriend takes care of him.

(Author’s Note: This breaks the rule I set of less than 2k words but I wrote it before I decided to do this challenge and thought it worked well here. I just needed a sick doctor having PE performed on them ok 😅)

Due to the fact that it was 6:30 AM and she was still more asleep than awake, it took her a while to realize the man she was dating was standing behind her as she waited in line for coffee. However, in her defense, she had never seen him in this coffee line at this time of day before (and she herself was here at this time every day).

It wasn't until she heard a familiar, sniffly yawning noise that she turned and caught his eye. 

"Shane? What are you doing here? You're usually sleeping right now." She didn't go to greet him right away, mainly because she didn't want to lose her place in line, and only two people stood between her and caffeination.

He too looked startled, though happy to see her. "Molly, hey," he said. There was a squeaky rasp to his voice and he had to clear his throat before he could continue. "Had an early meeting that got cancelled at the last minute. Since I was already awake, figured I'd come into the office early and clear out my inboxes."

"Gotcha. Well cool, that means I get to treat you to coffee for once. You find a place to sit and I'll get the drinks."

He shot her a grateful look and stepped out of line.

Molly ordered, received, and paid for the coffees quickly, tipping generously, before going to join Shane. He kissed her on the cheek as he took his cup, and they shared a warm smile as they made their way to a little sitting area, sharing a bench against the wall.

"Kathy's coffee is the best in the hospital. You'll love this."

"So you've told me many times. I'm glad I finally get to try it. What did you get me?"

"A surprise. You'll like it, trust me."

"Cheers, then." With another smile, they tapped their cups together before taking long pulls of their beverages.

"This is delicious," he said after a moment. "Best I've ever had from here. Thanks, babe."

"My pleasure." They sat for a bit in companionable silence, sipping their drinks. However, Molly couldn't help but cast sidelong glances at her partner with increasing frequency. Now that she was next to him, she saw he looked quite unwell. He was pale and shivery, with a flush over his cheeks and ears, and looking overall rundown and uncomfortable, a far cry from his usual easy smile and warm, steady demeanor.

"Is everything ok, doc? You really don't look good."

"You're saying I look ugly today?" he countered teasingly, dodging the question. 

She nudged him playfully. "You're just as handsome as ever. I'm saying you look sick. Are you feeling ok?"

He shrugged. "Think I'm just tired. Not used to being up so early. My head and throat are kinda sore I guess."

"Just tired, huh?" She reached out and placed her palm to his forehead, then his flushed cheeks, and finally his neck, where she could feel the swollen lymph nodes she had already seen. She clicked her tongue scoldingly.

"That's a fever, Doctor Mitchell, and a high one at that. Why in the world did you come to work today?"

"No kidding, really?" Shane leaned back against the wall, rubbing his neck and looking sheepish. "I can't even remember the last time I had a fever. Had to have been before medical school. Guess I forgot what it feels like."

"Hmm. Well regardless, you need to go home. You can't risk infecting your patients and staff."

"Yeah, of course. I'll go now."

When he stood, she did as well, wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug.

"Feel better. Get lots of rest and fluids."

"I know the drill," he rasped, smiling a little. "I am a physician."

"Sometimes I have my doubts, mister 'doesn't know what a fever feels like.' Sports medicine doesn't deal with the flu much." She kissed his shoulder fondly.

"Yeah, yeah." He pulled away, running his thumb over her jawline. "Thanks again for the coffee. I'll see you later. Text me when you have time. I'm sure I'll be bored out of my mind."

"Will do."

She watched him go wistfully, wishing she was going with him.

Naturally he wasn't far from her thoughts for the rest of the day. The hospital OB-GYN clinic was as busy as ever, and the hustle and bustle kept Molly, an RN, quite distracted, but every moment of downtime found her wondering how Shane was doing.

She texted him a few times as he requested. The first time he replied right away, saying he had made it home safely and was relaxing on the couch. The second time he replied a few hours later, saying how tired he was and how he really was starting to feel unwell, but he was doing fine. The third time he never replied.

Her plans for the weekend had been solidified in her mind as soon as she felt how feverish he was. She practically ran out the door as soon as she clocked out. Her first stop was her house to change clothes, shower, and gather some supplies. Her second stop was Shane's favorite soup and sandwich place for two quarts of soup and two sandwiches to go. From there, she headed to Shane's condo across town.

She hadn't informed him she was coming because she had wanted it to be a bit of a surprise. Initially her plan was to leave the soup and sandwich on the stoop and ring the bell, then duck out of sight until the last minute. However, her plan changed when she caught a glimpse of him through the front door.

He was fast asleep, sprawled out on his stomach on the couch. Bundled under two blankets and snoring with his mouth open, surrounded by a nest of used tissues and dishes, he was the picture of illness.

She didn't have the heart to wake him by knocking, so instead she used her copy of his house key to let herself in quietly, being careful not to let the cold air in with her. He didn't stir even after she shut and re-locked the door. After removing her coat, she deposited the items she had brought in the kitchen, then returned to his side. Perching on the edge of the couch, she ran her hand over his face and through his hair to wake him.

He stirred weakly, mumbling and snuffling as he opened his eyes. His face lit up upon seeing her, and he quickly sat up, leaning all of his sleepy, overly-warm weight against her for a tight hug.

"Molly, you're here! I'mb so habby to see you," he croaked earnestly.

She hugged him back just as tightly. "Of course I'm here. When you stopped replying to my texts, I knew I had to come check on you. You look so sick, poor guy, and you're so stuffed up. Are you surviving?"

He shrugged, pulling away. "I guess. I'mb doi'g ok. So achy and tired. Just been sleebi'g all day." He licked his cracked lips and tried to swallow, which resulted in a grimace. "Budt you should go, babe. I don'dt wandt you to catch this. It's ndasty."

As if to prove his point, he turned away from her to cough productively into his elbow, thick and chesty. He followed it up with a honking nose blow that was far less productive. She watched this display sympathetically.

"I'm not leaving you all alone and sick like this. And anyway, if I do get sick, I think I know a doctor who could take care of me." She bumped her shoulder against his. He smiled wanly. "Now, have you taken any medicine recently?"

He sheepishly averted his eyes. "Umb… ndo. I… don'dt really have anythi'g to take."

"Ugh, Shane. Don't tell me you're one of those 'it only treats the symptoms' purists."

"Ndo, it's ndot thad. Like I told you, I just haven't been sigck in years. I've never thought to buy cold mbedicine."

"You're such a guy," she sighed. "Even if you are a doctor. You at least got your flu shot right?"

"Yeah. Budt they're already sayi'g it's probably ndot goi'g to be very effective this year."

"Of course they are." She sighed again. "However, I had a hunch this would happen, so I came prepared." She quickly retrieved a bag from the kitchen which rattled with medications, sitting down beside him again. She selected the ones she wanted and shook them into his hand, watching closely as he swallowed them.

"You're acti'g like you don'dt trust mbe to take care of mbyself," he teased, taking several gulps of water to chase the pills. 

"That's not necessarily true. I just want to do everything possible to help you feel better."

He had to cough harshly again before he could answer, hard enough to redden his face. "I love thad you wandt to take care of mbe. Budt you should really go. I'mb so contagious right ndow, and I don'dt wandt to try to stay away from you."

"Then don't. I came here to be close to you. I don't care if I get sick. It's the weekend anyway. I'm here for you and only you. Besides, you were probably contagious yesterday too, and we still made out. So it doesn't matter anyway."

"You're too good to mbe," he mumbled, finally succumbing and leaning his full weight against her, closing his eyes as he wrapped his arms loosely around her. "Budt I still don'dt approve. You're staying AMA, just so we're clear."

"Call me a rebel, then," she murmured, stroking his sweaty hair.

He sneezed suddenly, only once, but wet and laborious, catching it in his elbow. She quickly pulled a tissue from the nearby box. He took it gratefully, blowing his stopped nose as best he could before resting against her again. He sighed deeply as she resumed her petting.

"You're lugcky the desire to be taken care of when sigck is a deebply ingrained biological traidt," he continued to mumble, sounding sleepier by the second.

"I am, huh? Well you're talking an awful lot for someone who has no voice."

She felt him smile against her, but he did fall silent for a while, aside from his sniffling and soft coughing. She thought he was going back to sleep when he spoke up again.

"You know whad would mbake mbe feel even better thad mbedicine? Sumb soubp."

"Hmm, well it just so happens you have a girlfriend who thinks of everything." She gently shifted him off of her, going back to the kitchen and returning with a quart of soup and a sandwich.

"Sal's chigcken rice?" he rasped, his eyes lighting up hungrily as he sat up straighter. 

"Naturally. We've been together almost two years. I know what you like when you're not feeling good."

"You're a lifesaver," he groaned, taking the proffered food and digging in right away.

"I'm glad you have an appetite anyway. I won't ever forget last year's stomach flu incident."

 "Ugh, don'dt rembind mbe," he said with a shudder. "Bud other than thad one time, I'll always have an abbetite for this soubp. This is all I've wanted all day." He wolfed down the food with unexpected vigor.

"Well then you're lucky I think of everything, like I said. And to think you wanted to kick me out."

"I ndever *wanted* you kigck you oud. I'm just goi'g to hade mbyself whed you ged sigck," he mumbled, swallowing a mouthful.

"Maybe I won't get sick, did you think of that? And like I've been saying--" She leaned in to kiss him fully on the mouth, long and hard, until he pulled away gasping. "--I don't care. As long as you promise to take care of me if I do, I won't complain about a few days off. So stop worrying."

"Ugh, take it easy babe," he moaned, pressing a hand to his forehead. "This fever has mby blood flow all mbessed ub. You can'dt be usi'g your lips on mbe like thad."

"Don't worry, I'm not planning to seduce you today. Unless you instigate it of course." She gave him a wicked look and he flushed. 

"You're something else, Mol," he muttered, unable to hide a smile.

"Just eat your 'soob'." 

He did what he was told while she tidied up his sick bed area. When he was almost done, she fetched another bag from the kitchen and began rummaging through it. He eyed the items she pulled out suspiciously.

"How much crabp did you bri'g? And whad are you doi'g ndow?"

"Something I've always wanted to do. And something I think will make you smile."

"I feel like I've been smili'g since you godt here."

It was Molly's turn to flush and smile. "Something that might make you laugh, then."

She sat close beside him on the couch with her stethoscope around her neck, placing a little tablet of paper and a pen in front of her on the table. 

"Constitution:" she both said this out loud and wrote it on the paper. "Well-nourished. Unwell appearing today. Complains of malaise and myalgia. Lymphatics:" 

She had been neatly writing everything down as she spoke. After the last word, she reached out to gently palate the visibly swollen lymph nodes in his neck. He moaned softly as she massaged them, the moan turning into a cough.

"Cervical lymphadenopathy noted. Lymph nodes tender to palpation." She wrote this down as well.

"Whad are you doi'g, Mol?"

"You get to be a doctor all the time. Today you're definitely the patient, so I'm taking my turn being the doctor and doing a physical exam on you. We need to make a diagnosis after all."

"Ah, of course. Mby apologies, please continue," he said with a little laugh, wiping his nose with a tissue.

"Thank you. Open your mouth please." Inserting a thermometer under his tongue, she also took his pulse with her watch as the thermometer calibrated. 

"Resting heart rate is elevated at 86 bpm. Temperature is abnormal at 101.8 degrees Fahrenheit."

"I could've told you thad. I just toogk my tembp before you godt here."

"I find that hard to believe since you were sleeping when I got here. Now shh. Actually say 'ah'." She situated a tongue depressor in his mouth, peering in. "Throat erythematous and inflamed," she said and wrote. "Now lean forward a bit if you would."

He did as he was told, looking slightly put-upon and she slid the diaphragm of her stethoscope under his worn university tee shirt, placing it on his back as she listened to him breathe for a moment. "Minor ronchi noted. No crackles or rales. Minimal concern for pneumonia at this time."

"Well thad's a relief," he said, sniffling wetly.

"Shh, I still need to listen to your heart," she said, sliding the diaphragm of the stethoscope around to his chest. 

"Terrible beside manner. I'm leavi'g a ndegative review."

She gave him her sternest "doctor" look. He merely smiled impishly. She sighed, biting back a smile of her own, and listened again.

"Normal rhythm. L-1, L-2 heard."

Setting aside the instruments, she slid her hands under his shirt, feeling gently.

"Skin is overly warm or feverish. Abdomen is soft, non-tender and non-distended."

"You didn't have to go under mby shirt, you know. Abdominal exam cad be done over clothi'g," he said, smirking.

"I was being… thorough," she said with a wink.

He chuckled hoarsely. "Someone's godt the hots for their patiendt. Thad's trouble," he murmured, stifling a yawn as he pulled his blanket closer around himself with a shiver. 

"Neurologic: grossly normal. Tremors noted due to chills. Psychiatric: patient is oriented to person, place, time. Behavior normal, but appears lethargic, fatigued and sleepy."

After writing down these final notes, she cuddled up beside him on the couch, wrapping him in her arms and pulling him close as he started shivering in earnest. He nestled against her wearily.

"How did I do?" she murmured. "Did I make you laugh a little at least?"

"Very thorough and efficiendt," he mumbled sleepily, coughing. "And yes you did. Whad's your diagnosis and treadtment plan, doctor?"

"At best a severe case of rhinovirus. I'm more inclined to think influenza due to the fever, but we'll continue to monitor. No active intervention needed at this time. Bed rest at home, OTC medication as needed and adequate hydration recommended." At this she handed him his water bottle. He drank several big gulps before handing it back to her and snuggling in again.

"If that's what the doctor orders," he sniffled, closing his eyes. 

She held him for a while, since that seemed to be all he wanted, just rubbing his back and stroking his hair. However, they were forced to move when Shane pulled away to break into one of his barking, painful coughing fits. He tried to settle again after the fact, making a face. 

"I don't feel good, Mol," he mumbled pathetically. "This sugcks."

"I know, doc. But I'm doing everything I can to help you feel better. I didn't realize your fever was so high though," she murmured. "And that was after you took medicine. But you seemed just fine yesterday. You don't do anything by halves, do you?"

"Thad's one of the reasons you have the hots for mbe, you know id is," he croaked.

"The only thing with the hots around here is that fever. You're sweltering."

"Sorry," he mumbled, yet made no effort to move off of her. Instead he sneezed wetly into his elbow.

"Update, you're sweltering *and* gross," she said conversationally. Yet she made no effort to move away from him either, kissing his forehead instead. He yawned as she did. "And sleepy."

"Thingk I'm just sigck," he muttered.

"Yeah, let's go with that. Do you want to go back to sleep right now?"

"Ndo. Ndot while you're here. I'm too sigck to sleeb anyway."

"There's no such thing as being too sick to sleep. But if you don't want to sleep right now, I have one more present for you." 

"You've already given mbe too mbuch."

"There's no such thing as that either." She carefully shifted out from under him again and attempted to head to the kitchen once more. Before she could take more than a step though, he caught her hand and made her turn around. Seeing his imploring look, she stepped back into the V of his legs. He wrapped his arms fully around her, burying his hot face in her abdomen. 

"Thangk you mbuch for the soubp and mbedicine, baby. You really are a lifesaver. I just wanted to tell you thad."

She nuzzled her face into his messy hair. "Anything to help you feel better. I can tell you're still miserable though."

"Nodt miserable with you here." 

"Just sick."

"Mhm," he mumbled, sleepily as ever. She let him hold her for another moment or two before speaking again.

"Seriously though, I have something else I want to give you. It'll just take a second to grab."

"Fine," he sighed. As he pulled away, she saw a hazy, pre-sneeze look cross his face. Sure enough, as she trotted to the kitchen, behind her she heard him emit a pair of messy, rough sneezes.

"That soup really got your nose going, huh?" she asked as she reentered the living room.

"Guess so," he sniffled, blowing his nose thickly. "Thad's the poindt though, right?"

"Indeed it is." She moved to the entertainment center and quickly plugged her laptop into the TV.

"Now whad are you doi'g?"

"Maybe you should stop asking questions and just wait and see."

"You know I hade surprises."

"That's not true at all in my experience, so I'm calling your bluff on that one. But you won't have to wait long for this one either way."

After a few setting changes to allow the laptop display to be projected on the TV, Molly popped a disk into the drive and started it up.

"Are we watchi'g somethi'g?"

"You and your questions." She tossed a thick DVD case into his lap. He picked it up, his eyes widening happily.

"The original Jurassic Park trilogy? Holy crabp, this is awesome!"

"I'm glad you approve," she laughed, stepping into his arms again. "It was going to be your Christmas present, but I figured a sick day at home is an even better occasion."

"This is perfect, love. You're ambazing," he mumbled, squeezing her tightly.

"Anything for my best guy." She nuzzled his hair again fondly. "Anything to help you sleep."

"I don'dt wandt to sleeb while you're here though. I don'dt wandt to mbiss out on seei'g you."

"Well then you're in luck, because I'm planning on staying here all weekend. So I'll be here when you fall asleep and when you wake up. No time wasted at all."

A grin split his face. "You'd do thad for mbe?"

"I wouldn't dream of doing otherwise. Doctors need to be looked after too, especially by their nurse girlfriends. So you stretch out and get comfortable and leave the rest to me."

"You're cooler than anadomy and dinosaurs combined, you know thad?"

Molly giggled happily. "I don't know if I'll ever come back from such high praise. You better quit while you're ahead, Dr. Mitchell."

"Only if you promise to make mbe coffee in the morni'g. Your good coffee."

"Sounds like a plan," she said with a grin and another kiss.

[littlemessyjessi]

Jasper Hale: Name “ABC” Headcanons : Plus Size Reader

J: Naked As A Jaybird 

The first time you ever laid eyes on him you were literally naked as a jaybird.  You decided to go skinny dipping in broad daylight.  You stripped and jumped off the waterfall deep in the woods and he got the full show.  He kind of fell for you in that moment a little.  You were free and didn’t give a damn.  However, when you caught sight of him....you turned blood red and just sank under water in embarassment.   THAT was what really got him. 

A: All The Time

He tries really hard to give you your space when you need it. He just loves you and being around you.   So even when you guess pissed at him and his empathic ass knows it... he usually ends up coming back within an hour.   You made him swear to NEVER use his powers on you but man...sometimes he really wants to when you’re having a rough day. 

S: Southern As The Day Is Long 

As much as he tries to hide his southern roots....he’s a southern man through and through.  It’s deeply ingrained in him.   That means manners and charm.   And you just love him for it. 

P: Pig In A Dress

There are times when you get really sick of the whole human charade.  I mean, you get it but it just grates your nerves sometimes.   And while you get that they have to do it....it’s really not all that convincing if you’re paying attention with at least one eye open.  The day you called him on it he nearly lost it laughing.  “Jazz, you can put a pig in a dress but that doesn’t make it a princess.”   Emmett still loses his shit when anyone tells that story. 

E: Enchanting

This man.  Jesus Christ, there is something so enchanting about him.  Maybe it’s the danger.  Maybe it’s how gentle he is.  But you have always been under the spell that is Jasper Hale. 

R: Dirt Road 

He has this knack of showing up at your house in the evenings.  He knows the back roads like no one else and there’s nothing quite like riding in his mustang with him with the wind in your hair.  You always trust him and so you’ve got no problem just taking off with him. 

W: With All Due Respect 

You trust him to always call you on your shit.  Even if it makes you mad.  Even if it starts a fight.  You’ll go off on something and he’ll just kinda go, “Darlin, with all due respect- that’s bullshit and you know it.”  It’s because of that that you trust him completely and adore him with all your heart. 

H: Hush Your Mouth 

You don’t get to talk bad about yourself.  Do you have days like that? Yes, of course you do.  You’re human.  There are days when you hate the way you look or the way your life is going.  But he straight up tells you to hush and then proceeds to make you look at everything he loves about it.  Which sometimes ends up being what you’re being so hard on yourself for. 

I: I’m Fixing To

He is a man of patience.  To a point.  And he’s got basically all the time in the world.  But in reality, each day that you remain human is a day that he’s losing you.  He loves every moment with you but he wants you with him forever.  He’s scared of course but he believes it’s the endgame.   You’ve got your hesistations though and you’re scared to change.  So it’s always and “I’m Fixing To” situation.  But you’ll get there.  You will. 

T: Tea 

For all his quiet charm....Jasper Hale is a huge gossip. He’s less about talking about it but he loves to hear the tea.  If you’ve got tea to serve...he’s all ears.  Especially when he can feel your excitement.  He just loves it. 

L: Lightning Bugs 

The day he actually fell in love with you was the day he took you for a night picnic and you literally ran around chasing fireflies.  It’s those carefree moments that just squeeze his heart. 

O: Oh My Stars 

The first time you told him you loved him it blew his mind.  Of course he could feel it from you long before you said it but to hear those words come out of your mouth just shook him to his core.  And rather than say I love you back...he said, “Oh My Stars.” out of pure shock.  You thought you messed up but the second he felt the surge of anxiety and humiliation he was quick to say it back and reassure you. 

C: Cowboy

Lol, ok- so sometimes you tease him about his country ass.  And on occasion when things are saucy or you’re trying to rile him up... you’ll call him Cowboy.  And it fucking works, lol. 

K: Kinfolk 

You get along so well with his family.  They’re something you never knew you needed but now that you have them in your life...you couldn’t imagine it without them. 

H: Honey 

His favorite thing to call you is Honey.  Darlin as well but you are without a doubt his sweet Honey. 

A: Accent

You THIRST for his accent.  He hides it sometimes but when it’s just ya’ll...that accent comes out and it’s thick as molasses. 

L: Lord Have Mercy

The first time he kisses you he literally said “Lord Have Mercy”.  For all his composure...it kind of goes out the window with you.  He let’s his guard down and his natural wit shines...and also his southernisms. 

E: Empathetic As Hell 

Ok, so his powers are no secret and while you make him promise not to use them on you...there is something you will allow him.  He can’t help that he feels your emotions.  You just refuse to let him influence yours.  But...on occasion he’ll ask for permission to let him show you how HE’S feeling.  That is such a beautiful thing because you can feel the pure, unconditional love he has for you. 

Hello, darlings! I hope you enjoyed this twist on the ABC headcanons! I just love this southern boy! 

Love, Kenny

 @frankie2902

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@kalliravenne​

Love, Kenny

[theunconcernedembalmer]

ok i got the aesvic out of my system now time to pick apart the letter n why i wont really be following aesops diary exactly here. literally no one asked but i wanted to get my thoughts down somewhere cos i have. a lot

just gonna put a quick rundown of aesops diary entry as a refresher (mostly for myself so i dont miss anything): he dreamt that he was helping jerry with what was probably a murder n was affirmed n he thinks its a sign congratulating him on carrying out his duty. over the years, he carries out his duties as an undertaker n comes to the manor looking for a “fresh start” aka what sounds like his first victim. according to aesop, said victim should be quiet, n potential victim number 1 is victor. something about badly needing him to become his “silent friend” n he mentions he’ll get to wick n the 2 other survivors in due time, but for now he’s very eager to start his “mission”.

im generally okay with the letter (i have seen so many fights over this aha) cos there is no surprise he wants to kill ppl (ppl who r fighting over this point. did u even read his deductions?? guy happily killed his mentor??). but i didnt quite like the fact that he still looks up to jerry (although. i guess thats valid i just. dont like it). i was also initially kind of confused about the real reason why he would want to kill ppl since as u progress through the letter it sounds less like he kills for duty (cos of the whole dream thing at the start) but more “because i want to :)”, which is an okayish edgy kinda take imo. like not that u cant characterize aesop as Kill Kill Murder Die, but i kinda find that. pretty boring in the long term.

im just gonna put what my original take on aesop was, like all of it. first off, he hates jerry. u cannot tell me a psychotic serial killer like that can raise a child without emotional trauma. like any child, this isnt even counting the extra damage done because hes autistic. (n i also hc that aesop has read his moms letter to him at some point, n he should have come to the conclusion that it was somewhat also jerrys fault, whether through logic or denial that his mom would want to leave him, so that just adds to it.) but as much as he hates him, his teachings are the only ones hes been exposed to, n its been so ingrained in him since young so even if he hates jerry he would still subscribe to whatever twisted ideology jerry was feeding him, which ill get to in a sec.

going through his accessories, he has that origami that he folds for each of his clients, n it shows that underneath it all, aesop is still kind. this isnt expected of him n its definitely not part of his job scope as an embalmer. he (still?) has the heart to wish the best for those that have departed n takes the time n effort to fold one for each n every client he sends off, which is probably a lot. so going off on that, my hc is that jerry, being the manipulative asshole that he is (who probably definitely manipulated his mom into indirect suicide) probably used his kindness against him to make him believe that by murdering ppl he is helping them, framing all of his serial kills as a sort of mercy kill (like his mom). so the thing that aesop takes away from all this is the very twisted logic that by killing ppl he is helping them, therefore being a good embalmer and a good person in general. n everyone wants to be a sort of good person, or at least for aesop that is part of his job description to be a good embalmer. n we all know aesop is very serious about his job.

i also hc that he has killed several ppl between killing jerry n coming to the manor, cos i follow the story that he took the invitation from that poor lady n thats how he ended up at the manor. surely the lady didnt come to him right after jerry died?? but anyway, the way i see it is that he thought he liked to kill. like he finally truly understood why jerry kills so much (which is interesting now that i think about it. guy really just went along with all those murders without truly believing huh), because it felt good to kill. at least thats what he thought, the revelation that killing felt good n is good, but i say its because he hated jerry, n offing someone u kinda hate should probably feel pretty gucci. n its also so much easier to pick clients off the streets than in the manor, so i would think that he has killed ppl like his mentor did, but each time he did the great feeling that came with ending ppls life just. wasnt as good as the first time round. it just became a sort of normal satisfaction of a successful embalming.

this can go two ways: 1. he keeps on killing to try to find that great feeling again, which is cool i guess (n probably what canon would want, except canon states that he hasnt killed since jerry), but id like to go with 2. he just stops because jerry isnt around to enforce it whenever he isnt feeling up to psychoing someone to their death (which is probably how jerry got his victims, n damn if that doesnt take a lot of mind games that i dont think aesop has the mental capacity for since half of it is fighting with his social anxiety n other issues. dealing with alive strangers?? no thanks?? i doubt he would have learnt properly how to lure in clients as efficiently as jerry because of this, mostly cos he was only needed for the murder afterparty aka embalming n funerals). n as much as he stays professional, there is no. professional way of gaslighting someone to their death.

(n also since ppl have pointed out that his twitter replies n other kinda informal stuff have shown that aesop does have reverent respect for life, which also adds to him not being so blindly bloodthirsty as implied in the letter. i dont really see the twitter replies as very canon, but it does make sense that he would come to revere life with his unique take and obsession over death, for one cannot exist without the other)

so this leads me to the motive that aesop brings to the manor, at least how i see it. he isnt exactly coming to the manor to kill per se (like from the very early story, he came to the manor to return the letter to a relative of the deceased lady, something about respecting her last wishes. something like that, its really been a while since i saw that exerpt), so like killing ppl isnt his main purpose of visit. its more of hes always on the lookout for weaker (or at least those that take less mind games to kill) people to mercy kill, n it just so happens that he knows the manor n his mentor almost died from there, so theres a pretty good chance he can find some ppl that fall into this category n so it just so happens that he also has a job to do there. its still counted as a Job for him since no ones gonna tell him that embalmers dont actually. murder. 

so in my version, aesop only tries to sway ppl that he knows he can convince, n these ppl would typically be those very sickly ones like his mom (andrew im looking at u) or those with an actual death wish/ very weak will to live. but here aesop is choosing his “first victim”, and the criteria for that is... quiet? never mind “not evading him” and “not cranky” being on the list too, but that isnt quite what i was expecting from someone so dedicated to their duty of murder. sure he wants an easy first kill, but like. i dont think its consistent if his motive was really to continue jerrys bastard legacy. especially when the next paragraph is essentially him gushing over victor, that... sort of implies something else. or at least in the way i see it, since i believe that canon wants us to think that aesop just really loves to kill.

aesop likes victor. very much so. so much till he wants to kill him. which i guess makes sense cos he likes death, n now he likes victor. so he just. puts the two things he likes together. whats better than victor? dead victor. anyway the rest of the letter is more like “whatever, i technically should kill the others too but my priority is victor” so like. he confuses his (dare i say) yandere tendencies with his duty since the end goal for both is a body in a coffin.

having said that. i know i have aesvic brainrot but i also know this is one sided as hell (at least from the letter alone, not counting the letter shaped cookies in his birthday art that apparently belonged to victors birthday cake aha) n lowkey alarming since. the goal is to kill victor. i kinda want to interpret it as him genuinely wanting to be friends with victor (really wanting him to be a “silent friend”, maybe cos he doesnt actually know how to be friends with living ppl n is better with dead ones? therefore victor should be dead to be friends?) but not knowing how to n throwing in his obsession with death ends up with. this minor disaster waiting to happen. but i uh. dont know if this is valid. its valid to me at least, with my original interpretation of aesop. n again cos of his ingrained professionalism, he also kinda sees this as part of his job to send ppl off, so its another plus. not for victor, tho.

idk if ill add this yandere side in my aesop. i mean my boi has technically tried to kill victor multiple times in the past HAHAHAHA. maybe like sometimes he can be a bit obsessive. as a treat. but generally nah cos thats definitely gonna end up in a murder somewhere somehow n i cant. just kill victors here on the ask blog scene lashjflkjhdlfkjhas

so yeah that kinda takes care of the last part of the letter, as for the first part. as much as aesop hates jerry, i would also think hes pretty starved for affirmation (like i said jerry isnt going to be a good parent figure ever) n i guess it makes sense if the only times jerry has ever complimented him was aiding him in his kills n hiding the evidence, which might (?) add to his desire to kill (but that probably dies with jerry aha). so the way i see it as aesop is getting affirmation n takes it as a good sign instead of. remotely liking jerry. idk if im stretching it a little but i really dont like the take where hes okay with jerry. anyway we are ignoring that he hasnt killed before entering the manor cos that doesnt quite make sense to me (i wasnt dreaming about the letter from a lady stabbed in the face 36 times or so right???? right???????)

im also not like. trying to defend him, im just trying to make sense of his diary. boi has issues n is a little too far gone (not as far as canon tho), in my take very deluded in his way of showing kindness. literally cool motive still murder (or in canon, just murder?), please get therapy. but i just dont really like the direction that the letter was originally trying to imply, with him really just hell bent on murder without like. a clear motive (at least to me it isnt very clear since the last part really doesnt sound consistent with his supposed intentions). i mean i love being edgy with aesop every now n then but i dont think it would make for meaningful characterizations in the long run so. ill still be sticking with my original take on aesop with maybe a bit of yandere for victor cos thats always fun

[urstruly-ghst]

*clunches heart* much wholesome, need more. my day has been hectic and I finally got enough time to myself to ask for the next batch.

It’s time for Heartslabyul boys and their gentle giant~

AHHHH HEARTSLABYUL 😌💗

also sorry for the late responses guys ):, another TY FOR 98 FOLLOWERS SHDHNWNSSN

riddle rosehearts

He is a small tomato baby, so he was very flustered when you always greeted him while leaning down.

He huffs at the leaning down thing, he is small, he gets that a lot. But can you not,,, lean down? He gets it, you're tall.

But he was so happy when you ended up together as a couple, he was scared his pride got you to back away.

Riddle, admittedly, was new to romance, in every sense. Be it from man to woman, he was new and flustered as hell.

He always tries to keep PDA and all the other stuff private, especially the picking him up.

He is fine with all the picking him up, putting your head on his, the cooing. It was all fine, great even.

But keep it private.

He wants that professional look outside, and he doesn't want to hear Trappola teasing or Cater taking pictures.

Riddle always feels safe with you, in your arms, he feels safe and loved. He is also touch starved, change my mind.

He also feels so flustered when you compliment him, when you coo out he is the best boyfriend (he would return that compliment too), it makes him feel so elated.

All in all, Riddle and you? Couple goals.

trey clover

Well, Trey is a tall lad. Tall and somewhat fit. But he knows some can tower his height, but he was pleasantly surprised to see his underclassmen be taller than him

He at first didn't care much of it, after all, humans vary from gene to gene. He sometimes teases you, asking for some of your genetics.

Yet, once you two started dating, he noticed the height even more now. Not just the height, but your oh so sweet personality.

Trey laughed as he saw you approach him with grabby hands and snuggle him to you.

He particularly likes your chin on top of his, as it reminds him of being coddled or being childlike.

It felt oddly comforting, and with your cooing and sweet talk? He felt weak in the knees!

Unlike Riddle, he doesn't have much of a preference on the affection, he accepts any and all affection from you anytime.

He didn't care much about his image, he was pretty laid back, so no worries. Just don't smother.

Baking. Is. A. Must. You guys bond during his baking too, he likes that he can feel the way your arms snake onto his waist.

He would scold you if you tickled him, but he would just chuckle no matter what you do. He is so in love.

cater diamond

Pictures. Even before dating, he took side by side pictures of you, to show your height.

He likes the height differences, its cute and so aesthetic to him. The way your height towers him, perfect picture material!

Once you guys started dating, you guys had fun with the pictures. His favourite one was the chin on head while in front of a mirror, it showed your height differences well, and even your intimacy.

He adores the cuddling sessions, those are the times he avoids his phone, if he does have his phone he would put it down quickly.

Cater loves the cuddles as it felt so comfortable and so warm, its perfect for destressing from his phone.

Oh! And don't get me started on his absolute happiness, which is your cooing. He adores the cooing and brings it back to you, tenfold!

Riddle stared at this, and sometimes scolds Cater that these affections should be private, which you did follow... Somewhat

You still coo at him, but at a shorter period.

He loves the way words seem to just naturally relax him and make him feel mushy and gooey, it just makes him so in love.

Your sunshine personality and his clash at points, one has to tone down their own personality for one to shine.

Eccentric things happened when you picked up Cater, by that I mean, he always whines how you should always do it.

It was weird for a Freshman to just pick up their Senpai and go to their class, but Cater just revelled the attention you give him. Sometimes, he asks you to do it when he goes to somewhere remotely close.

He also takes selfies with you in the frame, posting it on Magicam. #BeingliftedbyBF, #Romantic, #GodIminlove

He likes your attention so better give it to him a lot.

deuce spade

He admits his height isn't that much, but he thought his height was somewhat okay compared to others.

Deuce just gawked when you strut in with that much of a height. Wow! You're so tall, what did you do to achieve such?

He has respect for you no matter what, but he can't help but feel jealousy at points when you effortlessly just do things in advantage to your height.

He also thinks your height is intimidating, so he sometimes just stay silent when with you.

When the two of you started dating, he still can't adjust to your bright personality, it was... Endearing but new to him.

New because he never had met such a sweet gentle guy like you, and endearing that you looked past his delinquent persona to just love him.

It was trial and error to get him used to you, even as a friend, but it was worth the journey! I mean, look at his smile!

Admittedly new to relationships, he can't handle simple affection with a straight face. He blushes or just hides into your chest.

He blushed and screeched into his pillow when you cooed and picked him up one day, he just felt a rollercoaster of emotions there.

Ace sticks out his tongue and tease you two, alongside Grim, because you guys are attracting bees and ants with your sweetness. Its gross, they would say.

But he never thought that you, a wonderful person like you, would stick up to him and stay by him.

In terms of affection, Deuce won't mind anything, but keep in mind that sometimes he doesn't like the PDA, simply because he knows won't focus on anything for an entire day if you do.

ace trappola

He teases you no matter what, your height might be tall, but who's to say he can't tease and toy with you a bit?

Absolutely one of the biggest ass you've encountered, but one of the sweetest things you can love.

Ace, being Ace, won't openly admit he is jealous of your height. But he would drop subtle hints that he wants your height.

Now, being in a relationship was not new to him, but never to a guy. He always envisioned himself as a straight man, but guess he was wrong when he fell for you.

Ace knows allll the moves for a girl, he was not sure on how to date you. But in the end, you somehow got him, rather than him getting you.

The cooing, Ace admits he loves it, but he teases you for being so in love with him. But don't you dare stop it, he loves it.

He prided himself on a lot of things, but his ego kinda deflates when you go and pick him up with no struggle.

Ace would never say it, but wow is he in love and he practically was silent for an entire day when you gazed down on him, in your strong arms.

He daydreamed it for weeks on end, each interaction between you two just was ingrained in his mind.

Admittedly, he loves the PDA, but could you save the cooing in private? He wants the words filled with so much affection just for him.

Overall, you won't be disappointed in pouring each affection with Ace.

[just-a-quirkless-loser]

New Beginnings

Part 1, Part 5

Part Six: Sharing is Caring

Alpha Mirio x Omega OC x Alpha Shinsou

Words: 3.3K

Enjoy 😉

“Shinsou, stop hogging her!”

“Fucking scoot over then.”

“Awwwww, Kitten is blushing.”

“Fuck you, shitty man,” Chiyo glared at Aizawa from across the room.

Shinsou and Mirio have been...weird lately. It started with the touching (well, Mirio has always been a physically driven alpha) which Chiyo didn’t know how to feel about. She’s always been touch-starved but, this was something new entirely. Now, It’s not uncommon for Chiyo to be dragged to one of the couches in the common room so Shinsou can hold her for hours (she’d never admit out loud that she loves rubbing against his lean, muscular frame).

Mirio has also been coming over a lot more lately; really, he’s been coming over every day (which has led to Chiyo currently hiding away in her room for some space).

“Bambiiii, let me in,” Chiyo had her head against her door as she made no moves to open it. Mirio has come over plenty of times but, he’s never been in her room before and she doesn’t know if that’s okay...socially at least.

Everyone has been teaching her about pack dynamics and mating practices (she never really paid attention to that seeing as she never considered settling down; she was sure whatever infatuation she had with Shinsou and Mirio would go away. After all, she knows there’s no way she could have that type of relationship). So, she knows for a fact that she, an unmated omega, cannot let Mirio, an unmated attractive alpha, in her room.

“C’mon, Chiyo. I just want to cuddle,” Mirio laid his head on the door. He’s starting to get a bit frustrated.

“Smiles, can’t we cuddle downstairs? After I get some time to myself. But, we can’t stay up here alone.”

“Why not? Things were perfectly fine when they didn’t talk to you about pack stuff. It’s because I’m an alpha?” Chiyo whines in her mind. She can tell she’s upsetting Mirio and that’s the last thing that she ever wants to do.

“No, well, kinda I guess. I just don’t want to send the wrong message. You understand, Smiles? Right?”

“Depends. What message of me being in your room would send? And, to who are you so worried about bothering with the message?” He can’t help the anger and jealousy that flowed in his voice. “Is someone courting you?”

“No! No one is trying to do that- at least I don’t think anyone is- and I just don’t want people to think I’m leading you on. Jirou told me I messed up and hurt Shinsou the last time,” Chiyo flinched at the image of how Shinsou’s face showed betrayal when she went to have lunch with Mirio.

“Don’t listen to her. Shinsou told you everything was fine.”

“I still don’t want my pack to think I’m not trying to listen to what they told me. I’m really trying hard,” this is one of the rare moments when Chiyo shows her vulnerability. Mirio can tell how important it is for Chiyo to gain her pack’s approval but, he needs to do this for their relationship.

“Chiyo, let me in,” she gulps. “Omega, now!”

“But, Mirio, we shouldn’t do-“

“Let. Me. In,” Chiyo opened the door with her head hung low. Mirror pushed her way through and wrapped his thick arms around her waist. Her purple hair was still a bit damp from her shower from earlier and her lilac eyes were kept downcast.

“You’re here,” Mirio releases a few calming pheromones to keep her level headed.

“I’m here. Can you look at me? Please?” She glances up into his eyes. “Those beautiful eyes for such a beautiful omega.”

Chiyo flushes red and pushed Mirio away so she could lay down in her bed.

“How was your day?” Mirio sat beside here, his body heat weeping into her blankets and ingraining his scent into her room.

“It was okay, Shinsou brought some ramen for me since I was busy with the girls,” Chiyo snacks her lips as she zoned off to think about the delicious noodles. “It was so spicy. I’m surprised Bakugou didn’t want any.”

“He’s not supposed to want any,” Mirio quirked his brow. “Do you share your food with him often?”

“Well, it’s not just him. I do it with the whole pack. Mina told me that sharing is caring,” Mirio smirked but remained quiet. “Did you have a good day?”

“I spent the day with Tamaki and his mate. They’re so funny when they’re nervous,” she giggled. Mirio finds almost everything funny.

“That’s good. How’s Nejire?” The blue-haired bouncy beta was always getting into some trouble around the school. “Is she still getting ready for that modeling agency?”

“Yeahhhh. She’s been running around getting new outfits and makeup. That’s actually one of the reasons I came to talk to you,” Chiyo quirks her brow.

“Why would you need to talk to me?”

“She needs an extra model for one of her portfolios and I kinda told her that you would love to help,” Mirio’s teeth nibbled at his lip.

“You know I wouldn’t want to do something like that, Smiles.”

“You’d only have to take like three pictures. I just couldn’t let Nejire continue to cry and worry herself. Please, could you do this for me?” he gave her his puppy eyes. In the back of her mind, she knew she couldn’t refuse the big alpha practically begging for her help. It wouldn’t kill her to help; that’s what friends are for.

“Fine. But, just this one time,” Chiyo grinned as Mirio smiled. His smiles always make her feel warm inside when they stretch all the way across his face. He twirled her in his arms, slightly nuzzling her neck.

“Thank you, Bambi.”

“Sooo, is that all you needed? Or, was there something else you signed me up for without my permission?”

“Well, I wanted to cuddle but, more privately. Away from everything and everyone else. Just us,” Chiyo pushes her lip between her teeth. “And, before you say it’s a bad idea, I asked Shinsou.”

“Okay, 1.) When did you and Shinsou start talking so much? And, 2.) You do realize you have to talk to me first? I don’t belong to him. I don’t belong to Aizawa. I belong to no one,” Chiyo’s body clenched up, some of her older emotions surging back.

Images of being in that cage plagued her mind, the feeling of being held captive and treated as a prisoner made her palms sweat. Chiyo had never told anyone where she came from (although, to be fair, no one had asked) and she planned to keep it that way. But, moments like these remind her just how damaged she was.

“No, no, no. I’m not saying I need his permission or anything because you’re your own person,” Mirio pushes some of Chiyo’s hair behind her ear. “I just know you care what he thinks and how he feels. Plus, Shinsou’s a good guy once I got to know him. Kinda reminds me of you.”

“How?”

“You’re both moody sometimes. You both have purple hair and purple eyes. Both of you isolate yourselves when you feel you’ve spent too much time around people. You’re both not used to extended physical contact unless you initiate it.”

“I-you watch us this much,” Chiyo didn’t know whether to feel flattered to have someone want to know that much about her or feel weird that he’s been paying that much attention to her.

“Yeah, I do. I can’t help it. I’ve let too many things slip past me,” Mirio’s eyes darkened. Chiyo had never seen Mirio look so dejected.

“Are you okay?”

“Do you ever just want to stop smiling?”

“Well, I never smile unless I’m with you so I don’t think I’m qualified to answer that question. But, I don’t think I could imagine a world without my Smiles.”

Mirio didn’t say anything as he swept her up and laid her on her bed, following in behind her as he rested his hand on her navel. They laid there, just allowing the silence to envelop them. Every moment, Chiyo would whine to herself because Mirio’s scent kept warping her. For him to be so close with his hands on her kept her mind spinning fast.

“Chiyo, what are you thinking about?”

‘Fuck, I can’t tell him the truth,’ The way Mirio smirked against her skin let her know he knew exactly what she was thinking.

“Just thinking of food,” that normally would be a good lie if Mirio didn’t feel her tense up.

“No, I don’t think that’s what you were thinking about. Try again.”

“It really is good.”

“Uh huh. What kind of food?”

“The kind you eat,” Mirio chuckles as he hears a knock on the door.

“I’m willing to bet all the food in the world that’s your doppelgänger at the door.”

“Shinsou isn’t my doppelgänger.”

“I never said it was Shinsou,” Mirio got up and answered the door. Low and behold, Shinsou stood there, arms crossed.

“You both never came back downstairs,” Shinsou comes to the other side of the bed and laid next to Chiyo’s body. “You’re just gonna let Joker over there take all your time?”

“Joker?”

“He’s always smiling.”

“I actually kinda like the name,” Mirio smiles even harder.

“Why don’t I have a nickname?” Chiyo rolled her eyes.

“Do you want one?”

“No. That’s fucking stupid.”

“Someone’s in another mood,” Shinsou pulled her closer to his chest. Chiyo pouted but kept still, knowing she was caged in between them.

“Is there any reason the both of you are in here with me?”

“Nope. Does it bother you having both of us this close to you?” Shinsou leaned in further causing Chiyo to retreat into Mirio. “Being able to touch you without any else seeing?”

“Uhhhh,” such an intelligent response deserves the prize.

“Stop teasing Bambi. You’re gonna break her before we even put our hands on her,” Mirio’s teeth were nipping at the side of her neck. Her shivers caught their attention, letting them know how much she enjoyed being teased.

Right then, Chiyo felt complete. She felt the love that they had for her and that terrified her beyond belief. She felt their heartbeats speeding up at their proximity to one another. She felt herself being brought to peace because of these two alphas. The shadows in her life were slowly being lifted and they were one of the reasons why.

‘It’s got to be hero worship,’ but, she knows it’s not. Aizawa’s her hero yet, she doesn’t feel these things when she thinks of him. This is different. She loves Aizawa as a father (the only father she’s ever had). She...likes these alphas as something more romantic.

‘I can’t like them,’ she does. She wants to bury herself in their entire beings. She likes spending time with them. She likes being this close to them. She likes knowing they like to spend with her.

‘Fuck,’ she needs to leave.

“Chiyo, come back,” Shinsou was shaking her shoulders. He locked eyes with the small omega, steeling her into reality. “Where’d you go?”

“I think I should get some sleep,” Chiyo sat up with her arms around herself.

“Baby, what’s wrong? Your scent changed,” Shinsou keeps shaking her (maybe he’s trying to shake away her thoughts).

“Can you get off?” She says it in such a cold way that the boys shut their mouths and move towards the door. They both look back, wanting her to stop them, but are disappointed when she doesn’t say anything.

Chiyo waited till the night time came. All of her pack mates were nestled in their beds or with their mates (but, that’s a story for another time). This would be the perfect time to leave.

‘I should leave a note,’ she decides against it. She’s a coward; It’d be too hard for her to say goodbye.

So, she’s gone. Out the window-out of their lives. She ends up on a rooftop after a few days. More specifically, the same rooftop she used to meet Aizawa on.

He’s not there and she is. She knows that he’s looking for her but, it doesn’t make her feel any better. After years of conditioning, she’s not sure she can feel normal or feel emotions like she should.

She wants to go back home to the dorms (it’s become her home) and she wants to be with them but, she can’t. How can she? She’s always been told she’s not supposed to be happy so, how can she? She was birthed for one reason; destroy the world. Yet, here she is again, living in this world that’s shown her something new and something that she needs. She can’t destroy it.

How would the relationship even work? They share her? They spilt their time with her? How would sex work in the future?

‘I don’t even know if they want me for sure,’ she’s always been the type to overthink. But, something in her tells her that they feel the same.

Aizawa pops up next to her, doesn’t say anything, only picks her up and swings her back to the dorms. Chiyo knows he’s disappointed in her lack of trust in him.

Chiyo is about to open the dorms door when Aizawa chooses to speak.

“Chiyo, what happened?” Chiyo didn’t bother to acknowledge Aizawa’s presence behind her. “Chiyo...Omega.”

“I don’t belong here,” she’s dejected (that’s the finest way to describe this feeling in her heart). “I thought I could do this and be normal but, this just isn’t me.”

“You’ve been doing so well. What happened?”

“I like someone. Well, it’s not just someone,” Aizawa didn’t say anything. He knows this is hard for her but, he has to give her time for her to speak to him. “I’m not normal. No matter how hard I try to be.”

“What makes you think You’re different?”

“I like two people,” she chuckles with no humor behind it. “I want to be with two people-two alphas at that. That’s normal?”

“It’s not completely unheard of. Polygamy is becoming more popular.”

“Can you hear yourself? It’s not right. Who would want to share their mate?”

“Some people feel a spiritual bond that connects them,” he shrugs his shoulder beside her. “Some people like having someone else to protect their mate in their stead. It’s not hard to believe that two people would want you.”

“I’m nothing special.”

“You are; you don’t see what we see.”

Chiyo stood from the concrete and rushed inside the dorms. The pack was waiting for her as she ran into the common room.

“CHIYOOOO,” Uraraka jumped on her as soon as she came in to their sights. “Don’t ever worry us like that again. Jirou almost knocked us all out. Don’t even get me started on Mirio and Shinsou.”

“Jirou?” Chiyo quirked her brow.

“Yeah, shitty girl got mad so she sent out a burst of sonic waves. Shit’s still ringing my ears,” Bakugou was up next to hug her.

“Jirou?” It’s kinda hard to believe. Jirou is docile, even if she is an alpha.

“Yeah. Jirou. She cares about you.”

“Where is she?”

“She’s in her room. Present Mic had to come knock her out,” Chiyo winced. “Make sure to see her when she wakes up in the morning.”

“Ofcourse I’m going to see her.”

“Good,” Midoriya pops up on her side. “I’m glad your back. I told everyone Aizawa would bring you home.”

“So, you didn’t cry?” Midoriya blushes.

“He cries at everything,” Todoroki deadpans.

“It wasn’t even a full on cry. More like a few sad tears,” Iida laughs next to Midoriya.

“I can’t help it; I thought she was gone forever,” they all somber at his words. Today, they almost lost one of their own, not because of a villain but, because she thought she needed to leave. “Please, don’t ever do anything like this again. I don’t think we could survive it.”

“I won’t,” she doesn’t intend to. Keyword: intend. Chiyo can feel their eyes from across the room before they close in on her.

“Omega, what the fuck were you thinking?” Chiyo’s mouth falls open like a fish. This is the first time she’s ever heard Mirio cuss.

“I-I uh.”

“She wasn’t fucking thinking. Were you?” Shinsou leans down to her height and levels their eyes. “You thought you could leave us? And, no one would come looking for you?”

“I needed space.”

“Permanent space?” She can’t deny it. She didn’t plan on coming back. Didn’t plan on ever seeing them again. It was a split decision to get caught by Aizawa.

Chiyo stalks off to her room, closing the door behind her. Her men follow her on her trail, giving her some space before knocking on the door.

“Omega, can we come in?”

“Why? Why are you always trying to push your way in my life? I was fine before any of this. I didn’t feel any of this. I wasn’t so fucking confused.”

“Why are you confused? Talk to us. Help us understand,” Mirio wanted to bust down the door but, he knew that would only make you escalate the situation.

“There’s nothing to understand. There’s nothing going on. Just, leave me alone.”

“Something is clearly wrong. You keep avoiding us,” that was true. Sometimes, it’s hard for Chiyo to accept how she feels and not degrade herself.

“I just want to be alone.”

“No one really wants to be alone. You think you want to be alone because that’s how you’ve always been. But, you have us.”

“No, I don’t. Fuck I’m such a whore. He was right. She was right. Everyone’s always right about me,” Chiyo skinned her knees with her nails. Everything next happened so fast. Shinsou and Mirio could smell the blood-her blood.

“OMEGA, STOP. LET US IN,” they were banging on the door.

“IM JUST A WHORE. NOTHING ELSE. GOD. I DONT KNOW WHY I THOUGHT I COULD DO THIS-“

“DO WHAT?!”

“LIVE.” That was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Both of them slammed into her room, chests heaving as they kept their eyes on her shivering form. They rushed to her side, each of the nuzzling the sides of her neck.

“GET OFF. GET OFF. GET OFF. GET offffff,” Chiyo sobs as Mirio and Shinsou kiss her tears. “Just leave.”

“Why do you want us to leave?” Mirio’s been crying. He doesn’t look like himself without his smile.

“Because I can’t control myself when both of you are here.”

“Why do you need to control yourself?” Shinsou wants to smirk (through his anger at the least) because he knows what’s going on.

“Because I-“ Chiyo knew she shouldn’t have tried to answer but, her mouth was moving rapidly on its own. Shinsou’s mind control was taking over and, she could have stopped it if she wanted to but, she wanted to relinquish her control to him.

“You what? Answer, truthfully.”

“Because I love you both. Because I want to kiss you. Because I want to cuddle with you all the time. Because I want everyone to know that I love you. Because, when I’m with you, I can’t think right; I can only think of being with you and enjoying the moment.”

“Was that so hard to tell us?” Shinsou grins as he pecks at the corner of Chiyo’s bottom lip.

“Stop.”

“Why?”

“Because, It’s not fair to either of you.”

“Why?”

“Is that all you both can ask?”

“You’re evading the question,” Mirio rests his hand on her navel like he always does.

“I can’t be with both of you.”

“Who said that?”

“Society.”

“Fuck society,” Mirio smashes his lips on hers, tilting her neck to give Shinsou some room to place a few kisses. Her saliva pools in her mouth as he lightly bites her tongue. Her core is pooling and she’s stuck rubbing her thigh to alleviate the feeling.

“Awww she’s bothered,” Shinsou leans in to grin harder.

“Shut your fucking face.”

“Bambi, such a potty mouth.”

“You both can’t gang up on me like this,” cue the pouting.

“Awww she’s pouting,” Chiyo slapped Shinsou in the eye. “Okay, I deserved that.”

“Are you guys sure you’re okay with this?”

“Just like Mina said, sharing is caring.”

——————————————————————————

@orokayagi @sinclairsamess @sakurashortstack @coupsnflower @writing-garden-sandersides

[earths-roots-grow-up]

Headcanon abt Prussia’s psychology and historical relationship with Poland underthe cut. I hope you like it :)

Fact: The Polish-Teutonic wars were a series of military conflicts that started in 1308 when Teutonic Order took over polish city of Gdańsk (Danzing) and annexed it (event is knows as Slaughter of Danzing). After that came the first Teutonic War, in which the Order won Pomerelia from Poland. It was the beggining of larger Polish-Teutonic conflict that lasted for over 200 years and some following wars include:

- The second Teutonic War, a conflictr that took place between 1409 (when the Grand Master declared war on Poland and Lithuania) and 1411 when the conflict ended with Battle Of Grunewald. Teutonic Order lost and had to retreat, then manage to withstand the Siege of Malbork. The Knights did survive the defeat, but they never again gained their previous influence and power, while Poland-Lithuania was established as one of main powers in Central Europe. After wiki: "Most of the brothers of the Order were killed (during the final battle), including most of the Teutonic leadership". Many Teutonic fortresses were taken over and only eight castles reminded in Teutonic hands after this conflict. - The Thirteen Years' War, when the Order's Prussian territories began a revolt against the Order and asked Poland for help. Poland was like ‘hell yeah, let me make this my problem!’ and Prussian Confederacy/Kingdom of Poland truce was created. This war ended with the Knights losing and having to give up Western Prussia to Poland. - The Polish–Teutonic War 0f 1519–1521 that ended with a treaty of Kraków - this treaty resulted in parts of Order's Prussian territories becoming secularized as the Duchy of Prussia under polish rule (4 years later). This was sealed by the Prussian Homage of 10 April. There were more conflicts between 1308 and 1521, but I don't want to write an entire book here, so I reccomend the Polish-Teutonic War site on wiki, it has a pretty comprehensive list :). So in super short oversimplified terms, as I understand it: The wars started at the beginning of the 14th century with Teutonic aggression and lasted for over 200 years, during which Poland and the Order pretty much became THE RIVALS. The turning point was the battle of Grunwald when the Order lost a lot of its power, but still had some fight in it. It ended with Teutonic Knights secularizing and becoming a vassal state to Poland. This of course completely turned upside down after Prussia became independent again, got the status of a Kingdom and pretty much whipped Poland off the map in 1700s for 100 years, so I guess Prussia never forgets (which is one of my fav HCs for him xD).

Headcanon:

So my most obvious headcanon that comes from this is the hate/hate relationship that Poland and Prussia have. I believe they really can't stand each other and view each other as enemies. Their whole history is pretty much one somehow dominating the other or attempting to dominate him - from the Teutonic Wars, through Prussia becoming Poland’s vassal and then tables turning and Prussia (& Austria & Russia) partitioning Poland into nonexistence & and the Germanization that followed, until WW2 when they also fought. It’s a pattern.

It's like they live for revenge and each revenge has to be more brutal and dramatic than what happened before. It’s a snowball of anger that escalates. And I HC that yes, all of this was seen by both of them as revenge for the previous hurts and both of them believe the other deserved it for what he did before. The difference between them is that Poland views himself mostly as the victim that fights back (due to Polish martyrology culture, which is strong in the historical nation narrative [The Christ of Nations, etc], and the general belief in the “Germanic Aggressor”) and Prussia sees himself as the conqueror who has been humiliated by someone lesser (due to his general lack of empathy for those he sees as victims, so he would never cast himself as one, he himself wants to be casted as the aggressor, as to him this position means power and agency).

Prussia can never get why Poland kinda glorifies himself as the Victim and The Martyr (an important element of Poland’s identity), as to him that makes no sense, being a victim is pathetic, right? and Poland can't understand why Prussia glorifies himself as the conqueror as to him he's just a bloody tyrant so why would you be proud of that, right?

They see value in different things to the most basic level, which makes communications very hard - and both of them see value in things that end up being destructive to them, bc both the ‘Might is Right!’ and the ‘My suffering makes me SpEcIaL!’ thinking is not healthy. They are both messed up, just differently. But the way they are messed up kinda... makes them the perfect enemies and makes it easy to escalate conflict. They fit in this very pathological way, when Poland needs to “suffer” for his national identity of the Martyr of Europe to make sense and he needs someone to cast as the aggressor, while Prussia needs to attack and conquer to see himself as the badass powerhouse of Europe he wants to be. They are like the perfect toxic relationship - they bring out the worst in each other due to their specific world-view quircks, so it kinda makes sense that their history is so bad.

But my second less-obvious headcanon is:

Prussia began the Teutonic Wars with the slaughter of Danzing because he was young, ambitious and very impulsive. Gilbert has a hot temperament and a strong desire to be active - and he did exactly that, without really thinking through the ramifications of attacking a big established country while being just a young Knights Order. You can see this on macro scale in the Teutonic Wars and on micro scale in the Battle on lake Pejpus where he charged on a frozen lake. He was so into attacking that he never even considered the environment. The thing is, this failures (and his hot temper!) almost killed him. He literally almost died due to the lost wars, lost most of his power and had to completely re-invent himself from a military crusading catolic Knights Order into a secularized Duchy just to SURVIVE and ended up under the Polish boot for years. His biggest enemy’s boot. And he needed to kneel in front of him. This is IMO an incredibly important moment for how his further development went. The Ordnung Muss Sein discipline-is-key culture and the strategic mindfulness that become a second nature to him start here, when he almost dies because of his reckless actions. It also ingrained a sense of deep humiliation connected to the Prussian Homage that only installed the need for power EVEN MORE. Before he wanted power because he hated the feeling that he is less important than Actual Counties and believed he was given unfairly bad cards by being born without land. Now tho there's an extra motive: fear. Fear of being subjugated. And revenge. This kick started the process of creation of Kingdom of Prussia as we know it - so the transition from a wild-child-Order that just went with the flow and threw himself into battle on literal iced-over lake, into a very calculating, rational thinking soldier who assesses the room and everyone in it at the moment he enters and is hyper aware of all the environment and situation that accompanies his conflicts. So I guess the short version is: Prussia is very disciplined and controls his anger very well but that's not how he always was. He’s a powerful force of nature, a wildfire, that is being reigned in by the self-imposed diligent soldier discipline in order not self destruct. It becomes his second nature, he becomes the Machine, bc if he stayed the Wild Child he started as, he would have perished and he is aware of that. So this explains why he is so merciless about his discipline and order - it’s not just a preference he has, on a more primal level it’s about survival to him. Natural tendencies still sometimes slip through, especially when he's tired, drunk or in any way vulnerable. I like to HC that you can hear the more crazy part of him when he laughs - it's such a loud, boisterous, overwhelming laughter that it does not seem to fit his cold, diligent matter-of-fact soldier-persona at all. It's bc what's inside is spilling out in the laughter. You can also see it when he parties ;)

You can also see it in violent outbursts of anger that happen when he is REALLY on edge. They are kinda scary. But most of his ‘anger outbursts’ (and wars)  are calculated and planned to get his way with minimal consequences. The truth is, he feels like he failed himself whenever he really looses control.

My other HC about Gil as Teutonic Knghts can be found here, here, here and here if you like my rambly takes :)

[first-son-of-finwe]

So this is my “leaving the fold” essay, which I mentioned some time ago. I wrote this mostly for myself because writing things down always helps me make sense of them, but quite a few people expressed interest in it, so here it is. 

I was raised as quite a strict Orthodox Christian, and the religion is a huge part of my mum’s life. This is mostly my experience of its ideas and processes, and how and why I ultimately decided to leave. It’s a bit rambling, all over the place and very long, but I kinda wanted to post it somewhere, so 🤷

TW for mentions of abortion, alcoholism and general conflict.

When I was twelve or thirteen, my parents and I set off on one of our regular trips to Russia. We used to do this every year before time and money became restricted, and one of our compulsory stops was always a large, sprawling monastery on the outskirts of the city of Nizhny Novgorod.

It’s a place of smiling nuns but very strict rules, where God forms a part of every sentence and church is mandatory for both mornings and evenings. It’s a place of communal meals, harvesting vegetables and milking cows, ringing bells, and lots and lots of praying. For me, it was a taste of pure rural life. I loved running through the fields, swimming in the pond and helping out with the manual tasks of running a communal settlement. I gasped in delight when I saw the lone horse in the field. Deep down I was never meant to be a city kid, and being at the monastery fuelled my dream of living the simple life.

But the fact that we were there purely for religious reasons? That was only an afterthought. An obligatory thing I had to go along with, because the adults expected it. Perhaps I tried to feel the same spirituality they seemed to experience, but I never quite got there.

I put on the headscarf, held the candle, wrote the names of my loved ones on prayer notes for the living. I bowed to the icons, made the sign of the cross when everyone else did. But I never truly connected.

One year on the day of a particularly significant celebration, a huge icon was carried over a horde of kneeling worshippers, and my mum told me to kneel down and pray for my dad to recover from his alcoholism. And so I did.

This is something I’d been praying for for a long time. It’s something I was told to pray for at every holy site, and before every relic. And no, he’s never quit drinking.

But I already knew that he wouldn’t, even as I knelt, closed my eyes and begged whichever saint was on that icon to help my dad quit drinking. I simply knew that it didn’t work that way.

I knew it the same way I knew that Santa wasn’t real. Every child seems to have experienced a shock-horror moment upon learning that they’d been deceived, but I recognised him for what he was right from the start - a story. For someone who’s always thrown themselves wholeheartedly into stories and fantasy, I’ve always had a very clear distinction between fact and fiction - though I’ve also not been so close-minded as to think that there isn’t a grey area in between.

No matter how hard I tried to convince myself, I don’t think I ever truly believed in their version of what was supposed to be happening.

But I think my moving away from Orthodoxy truly began the day I heard my mum on the phone to her friend, who was at the beginning of a difficult pregnancy and was considering an abortion. She and her husband were on different pages with regards to this, though I don’t quite remember who wanted what. My mother’s advice was this: “Well you should really listen to your husband, because you know that a husband’s word is God’s word.”

Even being the believer that I was then, my immediate reaction was complete shock, followed by a thought process that went something like “Are you joking?? SERIOUSLY?”

And of course, it was hard not to think of my own father in his worst moments of drunkenness. So it seems “God’s word” is actually a whole lot of slurred, barely comprehensible nonsense occasionally sprinkled with some insults. That’s really the logic we’re going with here? And beyond that, how can you hand such a deeply personal decision to someone else??

When I went away to university for three years and spent considerable chunks of time away from my mother’s influence, my skepticism only deepened with every day. I couldn’t reconcile the science-driven environment I saw around me with the ideas being propounded in church. Sincerely believing in the Adam and Eve story, in this day and age? It didn’t compute.

Having said that, I would certainly not call myself an atheist even now. I think it is just as presumptuous to assume your absolute knowledge of the infinite universe and declare it contains nothing, as it is to declare that your religion is the only correct one. I find many things about the Christian God to be extremely convenient (just so happens to be an old white bearded man, oh fancy that), but I am certainly not convinced that there are no intelligent forces in the world, whatever shape they take. We are simply not in a position to know these things, and I’m okay with that. 

In turn, I treat anyone who claims to know them with intense suspicion.

Ultimately, leaving Orthodox Christianity was a long and painful process (I say ‘was’ in the past tense, but the truth is that it is still ongoing) filled with guilt, second-guessing, deliberate habit breaking and an extremely distressed and persistent mother. But my reasons for it boil down to four key things.

Their ideas did not match my ideas. I will never believe that women are obliged to be submissive to men. I will never believe that being gay (or in any way not straight) is a sin. I will never believe that Eastern Orthodoxy is the one true faith among all the other hundreds and thousands of faiths that exist on this planet. Living with your partner without being married is not a sin. Eating some chicken on a lent day is not a sin. A woman on her period is not “unclean.” Their ideas of good and bad, right and wrong seemed so incredibly outdated and arbitrary that it became hard to take anything they said seriously. And I felt so uncomfortable standing there, surrounded by people who I knew believed in all of this wholeheartedly.

Despite the religion branding itself as ‘Christian’, I don’t think I’ve ever heard any of the priests or worshippers talk about helping others. It is not on the agenda. People walk into church and think that because they’ve said their prayers, abstained from meat and dairy and then said their prayers some more, they’re now good people. But what have they done to make anyone’s life better? Who have they helped? Who have they listened to, cared for, understood? It’s not about that. It’s about making yourself feel good because you recited the Lord’s Prayer before eating your lunch.

The process of participating is extremely rigid, and trying to remember all those rules and traditions is honestly just stressful. Which hand do I kiss? How many times do I have to make the sign of the cross before approaching that super special icon? Do I have to touch the floor, or is that optional? Oh, everyone is kneeling...I guess I should kneel too. Once, I accidentally addressed the Archbishop as ‘Father’ and got a slew of disapproving looks from everyone around me. I think perhaps people find a certain kind of comfort and stability in routine, but having one imposed on you when you’re constantly unsure of the rules is not a pleasant experience.

Sometimes there is a very thin line between a religion and a cult, and Orthodoxy is toeing it a little too closely for comfort. I’ve seen it overpower people’s rational thinking and tap into their most powerful emotions in a way that’s honestly quite frightening.

The first step to leaving was progressively going to church less and less. I’d only ever really gone because my mum demanded it, but now, I put up a bit more resistance. I got screamed and yelled and cried at, and at first, of course I gave in. But little by little, I began to get the message across that I was simply not interested anymore.

Then, I deliberately made the choice to break certain habits. We always faced a row of icons on the wall and made a sign of the cross before leaving the house, and coming back in. It was such an ingrained habit that I did it automatically, and for the first few months, I had to physically catch myself in order to stop. That came with its own sense of guilt and hesitancy, and with the feeling that hey, now God is mad at you - hope a brick doesn’t fall on your head when you’re out there without his blessing.

The next step was removing the cross I’d worn around my neck ever since I’d been christened as a baby. Even now I can’t not wear something around my neck, so I have a little key necklace there in its place. Having a bare neck just looks too weird to me.

That cross came off and went back on at least three times. Each time I’d be persuaded, guilted, given the simple but effective phrase of “just do it for me.” I’ve removed it for what I hope will be the last time, and “just do it for me” won’t cut it anymore. If I converted to Islam tomorrow, would it be okay for me to ask someone to wear a hijab “for me”, even though they don’t share my faith? No, it wouldn’t. Religion and expression of religion is a personal choice, and not something you can strong-arm your adult children into.

Now, I’m in a fairly comfortable place where I’ve shed most of that initial guilt and am happy with my choices. I’ve even been back into church a couple of times just to meet a family member, only catching the end of the service - and even then, I’ve been reminded of exactly why I left. My mindset is simply too far removed to find any spiritual value in Orthodoxy.

Does my mother still try to get me into church? Yes. Are the attempts extremely mild and infrequent, compared to what they used to be? Yes. On one hand, I’d like to have a deep conversation with her and explain all the reasons why I have no interest in the religion anymore, but on the other hand, I know it’ll likely make her extremely upset.

Perhaps it’s better to just let it be.

[shuttershocky]

I haven’t been able to write lately due to a mix of personal stuff and *waves hands* the current global situation which sucks, but I still feel like writing something down so I guess I’m just gonna be cringy and self-indulgent and blather on about Aozaki Adoption in bullet points

Of course, I’m still going to include Rin, but in the original one-shots, I just skipped over how she got added to the Hollow Shrine. Now that I’m trying to actually string a plot together, I have to do it right. That part I’m still working on, Rin’s upbringing and personality make it difficult.

If I could do this fanfic in a visual medium I’d show Touko being unable to properly see her reflection in mirrors, like she’s looking at herself through broken glass. A huge part of why I would think Touko would be taken with Sakura is because of the former’s ability to come back from the dead. it’s a noted thing in the Nasuverse that a soul changing bodies is an imperfect process and eventually a soul gets corrupted like data being copied too many times (which is what happened to Roa), but Touko got around this somehow without using True Magic. I want to make it so that the price she pays instead is a quiet existential crisis, that after so many puppet bodies, even if she knows that it technically doesn’t matter if she’s truly Touko Aozaki or not if she has all the memories and skills, she still wonders whether she IS still that young girl that got booted from her family.

The intention is that Touko grows attached to Sakura because she sees a bit of herself in the younger girl, at least, after some projecting. By helping Sakura, Touko would be able to emotionally connect to the young girl she used to be, before all the puppet bodies and people she’s killed. Touko needs that connection because no matter what her knowledge of logic and philosophy tells her, she still can’t shake off the existential dread of feeling like she’s basically an object only carrying on the function of Touko Aozaki. Looking at Sakura makes her feel... human. It doesn’t matter if Touko can’t see herself through a mirror, she can look at Sakura and go “That was me”, if that makes any sense.

I’ve been trying to figure out if I want them to visit Misaki Town or not. The setting of 2000-2001 means there’s no events from kara No Kyoukai nor Fate/Stay Night to use, but there is Melty Blood. I’ve been thinking of using the Tatari’s power to make nightmares come alive to write a few horror chapters in the vein of Silent Hill (I ADORE how it does psychological horror), but also I’m questioning if I really want to go there and do that. While Silent Hill portrays the horrors of sexual abuse (the loneliness, the self-blame, the terror of seeing your own bed) better than 90% of anything, that’s not really something I want to do, but that’s where an encounter with the Night of Wallachia would go given Sakura’s backstory. 

I was seesawing between using Zouken (he doesn’t die that easily) or somehow getting Kirei and Gilgamesh involved to act as the main antagonists, but I decided against both. I know the one enemy Touko and the Hollow Shrine stand no chance of beating in a fight: Barthomeloi Lorelei. She’s eventually going to be the main antagonist, I plan to get her involved later on by having Touko recklessly rob the Clocktower for an artifact in an attempt to treat Sakura’s conditions (and thus make her lose face as the Clock Tower’s vice director) then have Zouken sell them out by using the worms still hiding inside Sakura to locate the Hollow Shrine, either that or get Shiki Tohno involved somehow since she hates his guts.

The Mystic Eyes of Death Perception present a really big writing problem where basically any monster threat I can throw in while waiting for the antagonists to arrive can be instantly solved by Shiki Ryougi. In fact, I’m still struggling to come up with a better reason for why Shiki doesn’t just destroy the grail fragments and worms inside Sakura other than the worms having changed Sakura’s physiology so thoroughly their death lines are too closely entwined with hers and Ryougi refuses to attempt to cut them out because of the risk.

I’m definitely doing the Shadow, but I need 1.) A power source that’s not the grail 2.) A reason to draw it out this early and a way to fight it back into dormancy since I currently can’t think of any other way to sever it from Sakura without Rule Breaker.

To differentiate it from Heaven’s Feel, I wanna take a different approach where the Shadow is something Sakura willingly indulges and indeed has full control over its powers. It’s gonna be vastly nerfed since no grail with infinite mana, but I think with a large enough mana source Sakura could massacre say, a bunch of Clock Tower Sealing Enforcers. 

Specifically, I want that choice to stem from a conversation Sakura has with Shiki. By this point, the Clock Tower is closing in and Sakura’s been conversing with the Shadow in her dreams, and though her better life in the hollow Shrine means she’s not in the same desperate situation she is in HF, she’s also willing to do whatever it takes to protect this new life she obtained through a miracle. So Sakura is going to ask Shiki “Shiki-san... have you ever killed before?” and Shiki would say yes. then Sakura asks “Would you kill again?” and Shiki solemnly answers “if I have to, yes.” which makes Sakura make up her mind that the Shadow would be something she needs to be able to use and control as a trump card.

As to what makes Sakura use it, I’m obviously going to kill Touko in front of her. I just need to have a strong excuse to have Sakura NOT know that dying is not that big of a problem for Touko. Currently, my idea is lifting from Fate/Stay Night and having Touko keep that a secret because adult mages can attempt to read Sakura’s mind, and Touko needs the surprise factor of her death immunity so that her enemies will try to kill her instead of imprisoning or sealing her.

My current outline is almost all rather dark plot points, but I tend to gravitate towards jokes and fluffy writing so I’m expecting the tone to lighten up a lot when I get around to actually writing them. It’s worked that way in the first few chapters.

Dealing with Sakura’s psyche is a little difficult since I have no idea how much of her anger and resentment should stay after she’s found this better life. I’m using Fujino as a reference, where there’s this simmering rage beneath Fujino, even as she speaks kindly and talks girls out of suicide. 

It’s especially difficult when I’m trying to flesh out her relationship with Rin. I know for sure I want Rin to be taken in by the Hollow Shrine only because Sakura wants her there, I want to use Sakura thinking of Rin as her hero in this fic, and how she’ll drag Rin back to the Hollow Shrine to reunite them. but I also want there to be that resentment. That anger. Rin would be someone who’s reluctant to give up on the ideals of a mage, and even more reluctant to give up the Tohsaka name and legacy, which Sakura would despise. I want there to be this torrent of conflicting feelings where Sakura thinks the world of her older sister who’s so beautiful and talented and perfect, and yet still feels resentment over Rin being kept by the family over her, and how Rin doesn’t really want to give up on being a Tohsaka. Meanwhile I’m putting Rin on the guilt trip train. It wasn’t her fault of course (remember in this fic Rin and Sakura are only 13 and 12 years old), mage culture is a bitch and she was just a child, but still. I want Rin to be just as conflicted, where she’s happy they’re back together (even if Sakura had to force it to happen) and massively guilty over what happened to her younger sister AND even more guilty that she knows the Tohsaka treated Sakura cruelly, but the Tohsaka ways are so deeply ingrained into her that she doesn’t want to give up such an enormous part of her identity. 

Rin and Sakura are going to fight a couple of times. Sometimes physically. But at the end of the day I still want a lot of positives to come from giving them a relationship again. I want their sibling relationship to be one of the core focuses of the fic, and specifically I want them to contrast Touko and Aoko’s relationship. Touko is not going to like Rin at first and is only having her onboard because it’s what Sakura wants, but also I kinda want to use Rin and Sakura as a way for Touko to see how things between her and Aoko might have been different.

Speaking of which, I really need a translation of Mahoyo to come out so I can do that last bullet point more effectively.

Currently most of the interactions Sakura’s had with the Hollow Shrine have been with Touko and mikiya, but I want her to have fleshed out relationships with the others too. Azaka could be her senpai in magecraft and she in turn would be the most protective of Sakura. Shiki would have Sakura babysit Mana a lot as she’s still in college and has to study (and Shiki would grow fond of her cooking), while Fujino would have the quietest and yet most comfortable relationship with Sakura. 

I’m doing this thing where Sakura’s fine control over her magical energy isn’t very good because of her altered circuits, so I’m making that the main motivation for how she discovers and wants to train in archery (she was vice-captain and then captain of the archery club in FSN and FHA after all), she loves the feeling of control and precision, of firing an arrow and knowing it will hit bullseye before it lands, as opposed to having to constantly struggle to keep a spell active or it crumbles before it finishes its process.

I’m still keeping the story of Rin and Sakura meeting Shirou by chucking him into a river, just need to figure out how to organically insert it back into the plot. it’s too funny to let go.

I don’t know if I want to do Taiga and Shiki as rival yakuza, but it’s definitely something I’m considering. it’s just too fun. I want to make something like how Taiga’s nickname of “Tiger of Fuyuki” is actually a serious yakuza nickname for her (that her students then caught on without context), so her rival Shiki becomes the “Dragon of Mifune”

Thanks to Case Files I know mages having deadly car chases actually isn’t all that uncommon which opens up a ton of new avenues for how I could get Sakura to be in a car with Touko in a car chase. i’d have Sakura follow Touko’s instructions and overturn the cars chasing them. Sakura’s worried and asks if they’re hurt, and Touko goes “Don’t worry, they’re Clock Tower mages, they’ll be fine.” and then one of the overturned cars explodes and when Sakura turns to look Touko gently points sakura’s face forward and says “Eyes on the road,” Later that night, the news reveals no one was killed. Somehow.

I want to do the Jewel Sword of Zelretch but I don’t know how just yet.

 I’m going to poke a lot of fun at the fact that Touko says she has no issues but one of her main puppets that she battles with is literally modeled to look like Aoko. I might even have Touko talk to the puppet once in a while when she’s bored.

Still debating on when exactly Sakura is going to start calling Touko “Mom” and what she would have to do to earn that. Also, do we know when Aoi Tohsaka died? I can’t recall a specific year and I’m trying to get all the dates straight.  

[hearttstopper]

“i have a lot of thoughts about this too especially with the whole watermelon sugar/nameless thing” pls miss britt share ur thoughts id love to hear them

This got so long. I’m really sorry. My thoughts about HS2/In Watermelon Sugar/a bunch of other random stuff under the cut.

These are all thoughts that are only vaguely connected, and stuff that I’m sure has been said a hundred times before mixed with a ton of my own personal conjecture, so please bear that in mind… This is just like total rambling from me. 

But I have been fascinated with Harry’s connections to In Watermelon Sugar since we first heard the stupid rumors about the song. Especially the quote from the book about the narrator’s name. That quote got me thinking about how when it comes to Harry, tons of people only see what they want to see based on whatever ‘version’ of Harry is most appealing to them.

Read these quotes from the book with that in mind:

My Name

“I guess you are kind of curious as to who I am, but I am one of those who do not have a regular name. My name depends on you. Just call me whatever is in your mind.

If you are thinking about something that happened a long time ago: Somebody asked you a question and you did not know the answer.

That is my name.

Perhaps it was raining very hard.

That is my name.

Or somebody wanted you to do something. You did it. Then they told you what you did was wrong—“Sorry for the mistake,”—and you had to do something else.

That is my name.

Perhaps it was a game you played when you were a child or something that came idly into your mind when you were old and sitting in a chair near the window.

That is my name.

Or you walked someplace. There were flowers all around.

That is my name.

Perhaps you stared into a river. There was something near you who loved you. They were about to touch you. You could feel this before it happened. Then it happened.

That is my name.”

and:

“My Name. I do not have a regular name. I am a mystery to you. I wished Margaret would leave me alone…”

— Richard Brautigan, In Watermelon Sugar

The narrator of In Watermelon Sugar isn’t just a nameless figure, he actually invites the reader to give him whatever name they find most fitting for him. A positive connotation, a negative one, a nonsensical one… whatever you, the reader, decides. And that feels like a very apt description of Harry and the various ways fans have perceived him from the very beginning… by now, so many people have projected so many different images onto Harry that over time it has completely blurred all lines as to who Harry actually is. 

Here’s a review I found of the book that summarizes the world within In Watermelon Sugar better than I can (as well as somehow still aligning perfectly with the concept of struggling with fame and identity, etc): “Much of the sense of disparity in [in Watermelon Sugar] results from the incongruity inherent in the person of the narrator, who insists that everything in iDEATH is exactly as it should be—the people gentle, pleasant, and tolerant. Despite the narrator’s insistence that iDEATH is a stable Utopia, however, many of the things that happen are fraught with pain and violence. Balancing the easygoing and vegetarian people with their light chores and flower-filled parades are the man-eating tigers, the burning of the mutilated corpses of inBOIL and his gang, Margaret’s suicide, and the emptiness felt by the narrator but never named.” 

So essentially within In Watermelon Sugar, we’re shown that in the surrealist, post-apocalyptic setting of iDeath, things are only perfect on a surface level. Everyone in this world appears to be happy (or at least, they should be), but a closer look reveals the true nature of iDeath: it’s beyond grim. And so despite the happy, shiny surface, being a part of that happy, peaceful commune is unable to cure the narrator of the inexplicable emptiness he feels inside of him. (‘All the lights couldn’t put out the dark running through my heart.’ ‘Having sex and being sad.’)

The sadness that Harry has already admitted is very prevalent in HS2 has already been implied to be about a ‘breakup,’ but it’s clear to me that Lights Up is anything but a breakup song… (“[Lights Up is about] freedom, self-reflection, self-discovery, things that I had thought about and wrestled with…” + “For me, it’s a very uplifting song. In some places, it’s kind of dark, but to me, it’s like, very liberating. I think, you know, over the past couple of years… It’s about self-reflection, and freedom. It feels very free to me, which is I guess things that I’ve been trying to process… I guess, kinda wrestled with a little over the last couple of years. It’s kinda like, about accepting all of those things.”)

His sadness/whatever emotions and problems he’s been wrestling with have seemingly spanned the course of a few years, and are very personal to him… which is why I feel that releasing Lights Up as the first single sets the tone for the rest of his album centering around his own identity. The line “Lights up and they know who you are, know who you are… Do you know who you are?” poses the question - who is Harry? - and then, “Shine! Step into the light… Shine! So bright sometimes. Shine! I’m not ever going back.” shows us Harry having the strength and bravery to overcome his fears (stepping into the light, although it’s ‘so bright sometimes’ - overwhelming) and reclaim/express his own misunderstood identity.

A lot of people have been trying to tie the In Watermelon Sugar thing back to someone else, but at this point I completely disagree. Not only have we seen him make literary references in the past (the Charles Bukowski reference in Woman), but… given everything that he’s said about Lights Up so far – which was surprisingly a lot – I think that Harry genuinely just took a lot of inspiration from the book because it seemed to hit close to home with his own feelings about self-acceptance and living an authentic life within the public eye. 

I think a lot about the scene we’ve yet to see from the directors cut - a room full of many different iterations of Harry.

“My name depends on you… Just call me whatever is in your mind.” 

Which leads me back to more total conjecture on my end, but I think that when Harry initially set out on tour / kicked off his solo career, he seemed determined to continue performing within the safety of the walls that had been built around him, so to speak. In one of the interviews he did earlier, he talked about tackling his first album from the perspective of ‘bowling with the bumpers up’ - he wanted to play it safe. He didn’t want to veer too far out of his own comfort zone and fuck it all up… and in doing so, he seemed to hold himself back quite a lot. “I wanted to see if people would enjoy an album without knowing everything about me.” 

I think that heading into writing with that mindset explains songs like ‘Complicated Freak’ and ‘Medicine’ being scrapped and excluded from being released on HS1. In retrospect, all of his tour - and especially Medicine - seem a lot like Harry dipping his toes in the water. Being totally presumptuous again, but I find it likely that Harry has had it ingrained in his mind for a long time that he needs to fit certain molds and keep certain narratives alive in order to continue to be successful. And I imagine that this idea is not his own, but instead something that has been hammered into his head over and over from a young age. And I would guess that a lot of anxiety and doubt has stemmed from that - go back and watch that shaky first performance of Medicine and tell me what you think he was likely feeling in that moment. But again, it circles right back to the strength and bravery of doing what he knows needs to be done to expel all of the darkness inside of him - stepping into the light. (“Never going back now / Be so sweet if things just stayed the same.” It’d be so sweet if he could live in that fantasyland forever.)

Anyway. I really don’t think Harry was at all prepared for just how many people would show up to support him in that sense… but his own community just rolled up in droves, bringing a total outpouring of love for him every single night. He had entire arenas lit up in rainbows, people bringing hilarious and heartfelt signs, flags after flags after flags after flags… all in celebration of him and the feelings of safety, strength, and bravery that he has continuously imparted back onto his fans. It was such a queer lovefest that even other artists likened his tour to “pride parades every night.” That’s so unbelievably powerful? I can’t think of any other artist who’s crowds do that for them… not even gay icons like Elton John? I still maintain that one of the most incredible things to have come out of HSLOT was the safe spaces he + his fans created for one another. It meant a lot to us, and it clearly meant a lot to him:

“The tour, that affected me deeply. It really changed me emotionally. Having people come to sing the songs… For me, the tour was the biggest thing in terms of being more accepting of myself, I think. I kept thinking, “Oh, wow. They really want me to be myself. And be out and do it.” That’s the thing I’m most thankful for, of touring. I feel like the fans in the room — it’s this environment where people come to feel like they can be themselves. There’s nothing that makes me feel more myself than to be in this whole room of people. It made me realize people want to see me experiment and have fun. Nobody wants to see you fake it.” 

I think that going on tour, and seeing the reaction and the acceptance of his audience, definitely made him want to take the bumpers down… to ‘be out and do it’ because ‘nobody wants to see him fake it.’ It seemed to help him massively in terms of his own ‘self acceptance and the things he’s been wrestling with’ and to make an incredibly, incredibly long winded answer short, it’s why I STILL do not think that releasing Lights Up on National Coming Out Day was in any way incidental. I think that was a big part of what Harry meant when he said that no one wanted to see him ‘faking’ things.

And… that’s basically it, I think, for now. I’ve just been sitting here nodding along at everything he’s been showing us the last few weeks… Impressed by the direction that he seems to be heading. And taking notes. I’ll go ahead and shut up now because I KNOW it’s still too early to draw definite conclusions on his intent for this new ‘era’ (and this new song could be about choking on literal fucking watermelon seeds for all I know, nothing Harry does ever makes any kind of sense does it), but I can’t help but come to my own conclusions based on what I feel he is sharing with us.

[theshinsun]

A-Z for honesty hour because I'm an asshole. :D

A - If I’m in love.

...yes. I never thought I would be again, I thought I’d been too hurt and jaded to feel this way again, but against all odds, I’m back to being 17 in full force.

B - Who the last person I talked to on the phone was.

The only one who ever calls me is my mother. And customers at work.

C - How long it’s been since I’ve kissed.

damn, almost a year now… not since my last relationship ended back in October-ish. even then, it was mostly casual pecks idk if we ever seriously made out tbh.

D - If I have a preference for boys or girls.

already answered (twice) but I'll keep going… I've got a definite preference of guys over girls, but I'm also a bi disaster and sometimes it doesn't make a lot of sense why this person is instantly attractive to me while that person isn't. certain aspects of femininity do appeal to me, but weirdly other aspects seem to be a turn-off and I can't always put my finger on what or why. ...that caveat does not apply to masculinity though, even if it's traditionally "masculine" features on a feminine-presenting individual I am 100% down every time.

E - How many holes I have in my ears.

two and a half? I got a third piercing at some point halfway up the lobe but it got infected and scarred over I think. the holes I do have are also stretched (I'm up to 0G now) and I've been meaning to get some more.

F - Give me any options, like ‘hot or cold?’

wasn't given any options, so I guess I'll go with hot or cold lol. I prefer hot, I'm one of those weirdos who loves summer because of the heat and I'll usually take a hot food/drink over a cold one.

G - The last person I said ‘I love you’ to.

my mom, over the phone just now.

H - The last person I hugged.

my roommate. we're not always super touchy-feely with each other but I've been feeling kind of down and she noticed.

I - The last time I felt jealous, and why.

I'm not usually a very jealous person, but the last time I really felt that way… I'd recently broken up with my ex, and they were sitting on someone else's lap and I… felt things. part of the reason I realized I may have made a mistake.

J - Are you insecure. What about?

K - What my full name is

already answered, my first and middle are Jacob Brooks, I'm not putting my last name out there sorry I don't trust like that.

L - If I have siblings.

already answered, I've got two, an older brother and a younger sister.

M - If I forgive betrayal.

I mean, I forgive but I don't forget, ya know? like I'll accept an apology if it's sincere and welcome the person back and never bring it up again, but I'm probably gonna be cautious around them in the future, and not trust them as readily as I would have before.  

N - If you want to know how I treat my friends.

if I call someone my friend it means I really feel close with them, and I treat my friends basically like my family. I try to always be honest and supportive of them, bc I love and appreciate them and just want them to be happy. 

O - If I like my school.

I love my school. the campus is beautiful, the teachers are fantastic, and I just love being there and learning and growing in my classes. I'm really sad this semester is probably going to be mostly online because I really feel like I belong in those studios and on that campus and I miss it.

P - What kind of music I like.

already answered, and it mostly boiled down to all over the fuckin place, so this time… band recommendations, here we go. no you have no say in this.

here, have a clump of random favorite bands off the top of my head: mother mother, bad suns, nothing but thieves, hozier, shearwater, the neighbourhood, steam powered giraffe, rainbow kitten surprise, the oh hellos, gregory alan isakov, caravan palace, mystery skulls, khai dreams, autoheart, muse, silversun pickups, thousand foot krutch, two door cinema club, twenty one pilots, blue october, jukebox the ghost

Q - What the last party I went to was, and when the next will be.

I'm not a partier at All, but I did have a bunch of friends over for the 4th (okay I say a bunch but it was like four people from our usual less-socially distant circle). I have no idea when the next get-together will be, it's kinda hard to plan those kinds of things lately.

R - For me to tell 10 of my curiosities.

the phrasing of this question is weird but I'm gonna assume it means things I'm curious about? let's go with that.

travel. I haven't ever been out of the country and I'd like to see other parts of the world at least at some point in my life.

tattoos. both getting them and learning to do them, it's a niche branch of art that I'm just fascinated by and I might like to do it as a career if I knew more about it.

same thing with being a florist. I'm really drawn to it as a concept and I'm super curious how it works, but I have no idea what kind of… qualifications and whatnot I'd need for that.

 surfing. I'm surrounded by the lifestyle and now kind of own a surfboard, I just want to know what the appeal is.

this may be a bit tmi, but I'm really curious what it's like to have a dick. I don't suppose I'll strictly ever know, but I still really want to… probably one of the biggest things to clue me in that I'm definitely trans is the literal penis envy ngl. 

I've always kind of had a fascination with the ocean, and I'd love to go like, scuba diving or something someday, to see it up close and personal.

I think everyone has the impulse thought of shaving their head at some point. maybe someday I will I don't quite have the balls to do it now.

I've gone this long in my life and never wielded a sword? a travesty. I don't pretend to have the grace to actually know how to use one, but I've like, never even held a real one and the idea interests me a lot.

this one might be slightly morbid curiosity, but I don't think I've ever been like, properly drunk or high before, like I've been tipsy but I've never been wasted, you know? the idea kind of scares me and I don't think I'm going to go out and remedy it, but it's still there, and even if I know it's not a good idea, I do still wonder what that's like.

same vein, maybe even a little darker, but I've got at least a little morbid curiosity about like, death and real danger. again, not planning to act on it At All, but the thought is still lurking in the back of my mind like what if…? you asked for honesty.  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

S - 2 habits.

bit of a new habit, but I have a whole ritual of disinfecting groceries when I bring them home, and then disinfecting the door knobs and counters. I don't know if it'll persist after the pandemic is over, but it's already ingrained in me and I don't feel comfortable if I skip it or do  it differently.

I apologize for things that aren't my fault. it's such an instinct at this point to say "sorry" when I'm uncomfortable or anxious that it doesn't even register anymore, even when people tell me not to be sorry, I'm still gonna say it, sorry.

T - 5 things I love unconditionally.

already answered so here's 5 more

my family. if I haven't got my family I haven't got anything, we've got each others' backs and I won't turn on them for anything

my friends. same deal, I owe so much to my friends, I love them, and that won't change no matter what they decide to do or be.

sleep. I love sleep so much, even if it's just an involuntary nap, though for someone who loves it so much I sure don't get enough of it

spotify. I know it has problems, I know there are probably more streamlined/cheaper music streaming services out there, but at this point, I've sunk too much of my time and energy into this one and I'll never give it up

my ocs. I don't talk about them very much on this platform, but I have them, they're my children, and I love them even if they're assholes and never easy to write/draw. 

U - How many texts I send daily.

already answered, the number varies, and sometimes swings drastically between like, 5 and 35 on any given day.

V - 3 big dreams.

graduate art school. it's gonna be a serious undertaking and probably take several more years and a lot of loans at this point, but I'm still determined to get there someday.

someday I want to write a book. I know I've said that before on a different prompt, but it wouldn't be a list of dreams without including this one that I've held onto since childhood. 

this one's kind of vague, but someday… I want to not be afraid anymore. like I want to finally be in a state of mental/financial security so I can live my life without the fear of what's coming next. 

W - An idol.

it's probably really basic to list a youtuber, but I've still gotta go with Chase Ross. the guy was an inspiration and a major source of information and support for me early-on in my transition, and even watching him now I still want to approach life with the pure positive energy and confidence that he has. 

X - If I’ve done something I regret very much.

yes. a couple things, really… some of which I don't think I'll ever be able to make up for.

Y - If I like my town and why.

my current town? yeah, it's got its problems but it's also beautiful and full of life and art and unique energy and I miss the days before the Corona End Times when I could actually go out and enjoy it.

Z - Ask any question you want.

??? I did not receive any specification for this one, and given that I didn't skip even the duplicate answers and this is ridiculously long, this one I'm gonna SKIP.

[ineffable-endearments]

Hey! The same anon that asked about the lockdown timeline yesterday here. Thank you so much for replying! I can heavily relate to wanting things to make sense and fit so i guess that's why I reached out with that question in the first place. Anyways I thought I'd tell you I thought about it some more and I think that Aziraphale talking about Crowley's job and Crowley saying he knows he should be making people's lives worse is just their usual double-layered way of talking with each other. 1/2

Kinda like "visiting me would be breaking the rules, isn't it What You Do?" "I mean I could but it's gonna take a clearer invitation for me to agree". And I guess Aziraphale's final "that would be breaking the rules" can be read as sincere, but I can imagine him just putting up his usual show. Only it seems Crowley wants something more genuine now... anyways thanks for putting up with me, sometimes my head won't let me rest until I've discussed something with someone else. So thank you so much!!

Hallo again Anon!

I feel I should preface this by reiterating that I know the video most likely wasn’t intended to be looked at this closely from a continuity perspective and it’s probably just a cute PSA about how you shouldn’t leave your house, but I’m sort of enjoying myself right now.

As a matter of fact, the notion you just laid out was my first interpretation of the video. Like it didn’t even occur to me that perhaps Aziraphale was not actively trying to get Crowley to come over until much later. He was so much more forward in this video than he usually is in the series that I just immediately went “YUP that’s what’s happening.” It wasn’t until Crowley said “Goodnight, angel” that I became unsure how to read the situation (more on that later).

Putting a read more because this got long.

After a lot of analyzing, I can see other perspectives too. The main one that made sense to me was the notion that Aziraphale would have realized, belatedly, he was not ready to be locked down together with Crowley and that’s why he sounded so panicky. Or that perhaps he thought Crowley was going to come visit but didn’t realize he was going to be angling for a sleepover.

I dunno, guys. I just really think that Aziraphale’s line of questioning in the beginning involved a desire to push Crowley toward Soho. That’s how they’ve been communicating for thousands of years. If I accept his call entirely at face value, then I sort of have to accept the idea that maybe all of Aziraphale’s apparent “hinting” behavior has been totally guileless with no ulterior motive, which in turn would mean his entire stint in the Arrangement has been just him being pushed along by Crowley rather than quietly reciprocating. And I don’t think that’s the point of their relationship. I much prefer the notion that this secret code is how they’ve always operated and it’s still in play, though they’re starting, slowly, to unlearn it, or at least relax it.

I can’t speak for anyone, but I suspect people don’t like the idea of Aziraphale being nudgy and indirect or Crowley being a bit unsatisfied with this approach because they interpret it as unhealthy or manipulative for one or both of them. But the thing is, double-speak has been a survival mechanism for them for so long that it’s fairly well ingrained, and it is also entirely consensual. And a bit of temporary discontentment is sort of part of the process, isn’t it, when you’re negotiating new boundaries in a relationship? I don’t necessarily hold them 100% to realistic human psychological standards, because they aren’t real and they aren’t human, but if their relationship is a story, then the occasional disagreement is a necessary challenge that will eventually bring them to the next exciting chapter.

Anyway, as far as my Aziraphale interpretation, I’m caught between “he was angling for Crowley to come visit the whole time all the way to the end and is going to call back in 3 minutes” and “he was opening up an invitation for Crowley to come over but got all freaked out when Crowley suggested effectively moving in together.” Of those, I lean toward the second because he does sound genuinely nervous. However, he obviously thought about it, if you listen to his vocal cues. 

Now, for Crowley. First of all, how *very dare* David Tennant come for my life with the tenderness of “Goodnight, angel.” This line is positively dripping with affection. Crowley’s not leaving in a huff, he’s not leaving off on an angry note. However, I don’t think he’s totally content, either. Note the sigh when Aziraphale says “it would be breaking all the rules” and the slightly weary tone when Crowley says “I’m setting my alarm for July.” He’s not trying to push Aziraphale into anything, but he does rather wish he’d gotten a different answer. Sleeping the lockdown away is likely the healthiest way he can think of to deal with this minor disappointment; he won’t go nuts being bored and lonely, and he won’t have the urge to wheedle Aziraphale.

Now if Crowley wasn’t happy with “no” for an answer, why wouldn’t he play the game they’ve always played? Find an excuse to go out and end up in Soho? There are three reasons and I think they’re all true:

This pattern of having to convince Aziraphale about everything has to relax now that it’s not part of the survival dance. Everyone knows this.

However, Aziraphale has always needed the structure of rules. Crowley doesn’t give a fuck about Heaven’s rules and he knows that Aziraphale often wants to get around them, too, but Aziraphale needs to be reminded over and over that Crowley can respect Aziraphale’s personal rules, however arbitrary they may seem, and not try to change his mind.

Finally, I think Crowley doesn’t want to play this game because...lockdown isn’t a rule that he particularly thinks needs breaking? Crowley takes great pleasure in breaking rules in ways that show how silly they are, and he takes great pleasure in pranks that challenge humans, and of course he does things to spite Heaven just because of who he is and what Heaven is. But, as we established early in the short, Crowley actually does not want to worsen this situation, or do anything that would represent worsening it in his own head. He wouldn’t have the gleeful thrill of a well-broken rule, he’d just...be either slinking around in secret or essentially gloating about being occult.

For Aziraphale, Crowley will sneak around and break the rules. But if Aziraphale is also uncomfortable with the idea, for literally any reason, Crowley will let the rules stand this time.

TL;DR In my interpretation, Aziraphale called Crowley hoping that they could meet up somehow, but panicked on realizing Crowley would totally do it, partly because Crowley suggested the massive change of practically moving in together and partly because Aziraphale does care about rules. Meanwhile, Crowley starts picking up what Aziraphale is putting down, but when Aziraphale gets nervous, Crowley doesn’t push largely out of respect for Aziraphale but also partly because he doesn’t feel like lockdown should actually be broken, either.

Thank you Anon!

[nathalie-sancoeur-assistant]

Feast spoilers

Okay so here begins all my thoughts and feelings on the newest ep, from start to finish. I need to get them out there. This is just like what I did for “Ladybug”- I won’t be doing these for all the episodes, only the ones that really get my mind running. 

First things first, we get a shot of Nathalie right in the beginning, right in the center of the screen- and Jagged stone is right there. I guess that’s a tidbit of fuel for all the Jagged x Nathalie shippers out there.

“The highest mountain tops of tibet” 

Me: Tibet? That’s where Gabriel and Emilie got their miraculous. 

Okay so Alya is a BOMB reporter, okay, she’s awesome. But did it not cross her mind that this could potentially help Hawkmoth too? He undoubtedly follows the Ladyblog. If you’re going to go to these lengths, then do not publish what you have found online. Wait until you next find Ladybug and Chat Noir on patrol- THEN you can publish them for the public to see AFTER Hawkmoth has been defeated. 

“Until for some unknown reason they disappeared, and the world forgot about them” I feel like there’s a little more to that line than meets the eye- because yes, sure, Master Fu did some funky ish when he was young and it’s been 200 years since they were last heard of, however, even in 200 years you would think there would be some historical documents or something speaking of these mysterious supers that just come and go. Just...something, you know? I feel like there might have been effort to wipe out the memory of the miraculous by someone. Or maybe Im just looking to far into something that’s already been explained. 

I wonder how this lady treated Nooroo. She looks so graceful- is that her while transformed? If so I gotta say I much prefer her simple transformation to Hawkmoth’s. I dunno, I just really like this. Being able to see some of Nooroo and Plagg and Tikki’s previous holders being memorialized. I wonder if they ever have the urge to go visit museums where their previous masters are displayed- I wonder if they miss them. Or talk about them. 

“Hercules, or, lion miraculous holder?”

Me at first: Lion miraculous? Well there’s a tiger but I think that’s a longshot- 

Fu later on: The sentimonster ate other miraculous boxes 

Me: o h. 

Alix: Why not a bunny miraculous while you’re at it 

Me: You did not just.

There’s an app for everything these days, isn’t there?

She’s ready for her close-up!

Seriously though, I love how she has become a more prominent character and actually gets shots like this. 

Also, why did she not sense the amok until she saw the statue? Does the peacock miraculous harm the wearer even if not transformed (I ask because of her reaction)

Bye bye little butterfly

Also, I love her shoes now that we have a close-up of them. 

Jagged looks a bit concerned- but look at Adrien

This poor child, he doesn’t even hesitate to jump to her aid. He loves her so much. 

And the way she speaks to him here, she sounds motherly. “It’s nothing, Adrien” I think this is the first time we’ve seen them have any kind of intimate mother/son physical contact too.

And he is immediately done- he just wants her to get home where she can relax. He’s so concerned for his step-mom, it’s going to break him when he finds out who she is. Snap him right in half like a glow-stick.

is he holding her arm?

“I never should have entrusted her with the miraculous” She’s actually having doubts about trusting her best friend. I’ve been there honey. 

Oof, Fu looks so terrified. And also kinda like a chipmunk. 

“Alya is an excellent journalist. Sooner or later she would have discovered this secret kept under wraps for centuries” I can’t tell if he was throwing shade or not. 

So basically, Master Fu was taken from his home from a young age by a bunch of monks saying he was chosen for a very important job. They but him through rigorous tests to train him into being a capable guardian for the miraculous and as a result of starving a sad young boy the temple got burned down. Sounds almost like they deserved it tbh.  

Also, Master Fu’s sentimonster had free will too- it had its akumatized object in one of the safest places it could have put it. It had free will like sentibug- but it was created to consume miraculous. No matter what, even if Ladybug had felt at this moment that the creature was a real living being (which it seemed just as alive as Sentibug) she would have had to have destroyed it. The difference is that THIS sentimonster was out of control, because it was made from the grief of a starving child. Sentibug was made out of love and loyalty. She didn’t have that underlying meaning of creation that led her to destroy. But this one, when given free will, did, because it was made from destructive emotions. 

Yin and yang play such a huge role in symbolism with the miraculous. Im kinda glad I chose my OC’s miraculous to be yin & yang. 

This is also how I feel when I am hungry. 

“I created a sentimonster that was very different from the one I had envisions” does that mean that the sentimonsters can latch on to whatever their creators are feeling at the moment and form around them EVEN if they didn’t intend to use the particular feeling or emotion to fuel it? Could that be part of why Sentibug turned on Mayura- she was having doubts while creating her because she knew Gabriel would have never let this happen, that she needed to stop- but she just couldn’t bring herself to? And those feelings got ingrained into Sentibug too, and when Sentibug heard “Stop Mayura and take her miraculous” those doubts resurfaced and took form as it seeming for Sentibug to have a sense of justice?

“A monk told me to run away with....and the miraculous box. The very last miraculous box.”

There are other miraculous.

So judging from the pictures and Fus story, he lost the book and two miraculous not to very far away from the temple- which means that Gabriel and Emilie travelled to one of the highest mountain-tops in Tibet. What on Earth could have made them go up there? That’s not just some sort of vacation spot. 

Look at this honeybun. Poor girl- it looks like her head’s hurting. 

Adrien seems so concerned for her- and now we know that he knows that she’s sick. I had suspected as such, because it would be very difficult to hide it because of how much time they spend together- but honestly this is just heartbreaking. 

“It’s thoughtful of you to be concerned, Adrien”

Of course he’s concerned. You’ve been around so long he probably can’t imagine life without you, you’re the one that’s been there ever since his mother disappeared, he loves you like you’re family. An empathetic and caring young boy isn’t just going to look at someone like you while sick and not get concerned. 

“Nathalie sometimes get’s dizzy spells but it’s nothing serious” Nooo Gabriel, I get dizzy spells that are nothing serious (I’ve been to the doctor for them don’t worry), I understand wanting to protect Adrien but one of these days she’s going to disappear too, and what then?

And this scene? They had a moment. He said that he didn’t need to worry, but I think he saw right through what he said, and maybe even that he was a little worried himself. The way he’s holding his eyes, he looks a little bit concerned too. 

And if you ask me, they do not look happy about lying to him. Because he should be worried. But they don’t want to put that on his shoulders- plus if they told him the truth...yeah. 

Okay so let me get this straight- now, Mayura did not create any sentimonsters in this episode, but she did wake up one that was dormant. How does a sentimonster go dormant? Considering there has been a sentimonster lingering out there dormant, we know for a fact that multiple sentimonsters can exist at one time- however, can two exist and be active at the same time, or does one have to be dormant in order for others to exist after the dormant one was created? And how did she sense the amok- was it the same way in which Gabriel sense emotions through his miraculous? And if that is the case, then does she need her miraculous to sense the amok? If so, where is she wearing it at right now? Also look at her, she’s so cute from this angle- just look at her eyes, they’re so gorgeous. That shade of blue is lovely. 

Don’t look concerned about her, Gabriel, you’re the one telling her to use the miraculous...okay yes, actually, do look concerned for her, feel guilty and take it away (I know you will, eventually, but will you honour that commitment in the finale?)

Look at that smile 

This poor kid...he’s got everything in the world but really, he just misses his mother. And now he’s getting flashbacks with Nathalie as to wht was happening with Emilie.  That’s all the proof we need, that’s the show telling us directly that the miraculous is exactly what caused Emilie to go into a coma in the first place. But then sweet plagg, coming in and making him laugh. I think it’s awesome that Plagg is so good at piano too. But its so sad that directly after such a cute scene, he gets taken away. 

His face just lights up

“Mom’s the only one who could make me laugh like that. Thank you, plagg” Sweetie pie!

clack clack clack clack clack clack The clicking of heels is such an aesthetically pleasing sound

“I can feel it’s yearning, Hawkmoth” and I can feel yours someone needs to give you love.

She has the power to Thanos amoks XD

“Take one step closer and I’ll take your amok away from you...you dont want me to destroy you do you?” Man, that’s brutal. She’s got to reason with it as if its an actual living thing (I’ve heard various theories as to why sentimonsters are and are not living individual beings and I just think its all very interesting)- but looking at this after knowing Ladybug and Chat Noir will come to the conclusion that they are later down the road, this episode kinda shows pretty well too that Sentimonsters could really actually be their own being. It felt almost like she was chastising a puppy. 

Wow, familyagrestefanblog was right about this- they really can be akumatized. Which...also goes along with them being conscious beings as Ladybug and Chat Noir believed. Its all so interesting. And the morals here? If this is all so then where is the morality of using the peacock miraculous at all? Eventually the sentimonster is going to be destroyed. UNLESS the reason they can be akumatized is because they’re the very embodiment of a person’s emotions. 

And did I mention that I LOVE his facial expressions in this ep? 

“Ill even give you the peacocks and mine as a bonus”

“I always honour my commitments” 

So was he not going to blackmail the thing? Or was what he told Lila also a lie? If he wasn’t going to black mail it, then is he really that willing to give up all the miraculous once he has what he wants? Which is literally just to right some wrongs and heal his wife? Low-key if that’s the case I like him a little more. 

Okay so

I’ve always had this idea on if Hawkmoth used catalyst, and akumatized one person to do some damage and draw out the hero’s then akumatized Lila with tracking abilities and put her in the middle of the fight, he could use her to find out who ladybug and chat noir were and take their miraculous in their sleep.

But also, this is so sad.  

Marinette’s first thought wasnt “Oh no, I can’t be ladybug anymore”

It was “Tikki!” 

And she was so desperate to get her back. You could see it in her face, she was so determined. Her clumsiness didn’t get in her way this time- because she was determined and focused, no nerves- she just wanted her friend back. And I liked how Wayzz was trying to convince Fu that it was a bad idea. 

So Bikerbug really just keeps her bike IN the bakery huh?

Okay, so, I really really love watching this scene- his facial expressions, the fluid movement, I quite enjoy it. And I love the way Mayura sounds when she speaks so that’s just an added bonus, but then. 

“My Dear Mayura...”

I think I forgot how to breath when he said that. I don’t think that Nathalie is gonna flip out over every little thing (like people theorizing that her heart sped up or whatnot in Ladybug when Hawkmoth landed in front of her and she got a close-up of the booty- I think there, she was more concerned with survival than that) but that? She had to have felt that. 

Adrien recognized Ladybug immediately. And Master Fu was leading Feast right through traffic. 

Me mentally: Oh hey Bananoir, how you peeling? 

“As you wish, Bugaboo~” He wants her to call him Bananoir omgosh. 

“Master look, Ladybug and Chat Noir, despite their ridiculous costumes” Oh my gosh Wayzz leave them be XD

“The guardian of the miraculous is this decrepit old man?” Honeybun there are gonna be people saying the same thing about you if you’re revealed as Hawkmoth.

& Am I the only one that really wants to see Master Fu’s transformation?

“You sure its the right time, M’lady?” Chat, please. 

Chat is not amused. 

“Keep those miraculous nice and warm for me, and enjoy the other ones, youve earned them” Either he is actually being nice to the sentimonster because it actually did its job or hes planning on blackmailing it and having Nathalie take away its amok anyway? 

“Farewell my dear Wayzz” doesn’t hold as much impact as “My dear Mayura”

“Careful what you wish for”

He’s mad cause he felt so close, when really he had just fallen into their trap. 

And she detransformed without even saying “fall my feathers”

And he rushed to her

And the way she looks at him? She is helpless. 

That is not the face of a heartless man.

1.) Now we have a shot of their official height difference minus nathalie’s heels.  2.) They are standing side by side untransformed. But Emilie is still looming over them. They seem to be equals, But Emilie is between them, behind them, watching, and much bigger than they are. Hmm...

No one related to either of these two showed up at all in the rest of the episode. Why is it so important for us to know that they were watching the broadcast that they cut to them to show us? And why go to the trouble of putting both Tsurgi’s in frame? Also note, they both have dark coverings over their eyes, whereas Gabriel and Nathalie do not. I know Kagami’s mom is blind but I wannt look a little further into it- could it be that they are going to end up allies with Gabriel, or going to Tibet and getting their own miraculous from the different wish boxes and use them for bad too? But what if their intentions are not the same as Gabriel and Nathalie’s. Neither of them have malicious intent in their search for Ladybug and Chat Noir’s miraculous- Nathalie wants to help the man she loves and Gabriel wants to fix the past/his wife. But could these two have more sinister plans? So it shows them with a dark covering over their eyes to show that their vision for the future is dark and muddled? 

Master Fu really out here thinking that that is gonna make him less recognizable. Just goes to show you that the people of Paris really are just blind. 

Oh boy, that ending though. Gabriel seems so determined right here. “And it shall be served very cold...” And he is saying all this in front of Emilie, but he is talking to Ladybug. There’s just something off about it, to me. Idk. That’s all I really have to say, if you made it this far, thanks for reading. 

[gilbertsannegirl]

50 questions you’ve never been asked

I was tagged by @greengableslover (thank you love!! 💛)

What is the colour of your hairbrush? Brown

Name a food you never eat? Any kind of seafood

Are you typically too warm or too cold? Too warm

What were you doing 45 minutes ago? Sleeping

What is your favourite candy bar? I’m guessing this is chocolate right? In Australia we have this thing called a Time-Out and they are the most delicious thing in the world

Have you ever been to a professional sports event? Nope

What is the last thing you said out loud? I can’t remember. I think I said something to my brother before I went to bed last night, like “what’s up” or something

What is your favourite ice cream? Mint chocolate chip or caramel and macadamia

What was the last thing you had to drink? Water

Do you like your wallet? I like it because it’s big and a neutral colour so it matches everything, but the zip is kinda broken on it so I probably should get a new one

What was the last thing you ate? Toasted cheese sandwich

Did you buy any new clothes last weekend? No, I bought some online on Tuesday though

The last sporting event you watched? Couldn’t tell you. I watched a bit of the cricket at the start of the year just because it was sometimes on in the background, don’t know if that counts

What is your favourite flavour of popcorn? Butter

Who is the last person you sent a text message to? my friend

Ever go camping? Camping is ingrained into Australian culture, of course I’ve been camping. They made us go hiking and camping for a lot of camps at school and my family used to go at least once a year when I was younger. Personally I don’t really like it because I like being comfortable lol.

Do you take vitamins? I take vitamin c just because it’s in my iron tablets.

Do you go to church every Sunday? Yes

Do you have a tan? No, I get one when I go in the sun but I haven’t left my house lately lol

Do you prefer Chinese food or pizza? Chinese food, has a special place in my heart because I spent the first 4 years of my life living in Beijing so it was all I really ate. (No I do not have any Chinese heritage, my dad is a teacher and he got a job over there)

Do you drink your soda with a straw? Depends, usually no

What colour socks do you usually wear? I have a lot of different socks. At the moment I mostly where my fluffy grey house socks cause it’s cold atm and my feet are always cold

Do you ever drive above the speed limit? No because I’m still on my learners license and if I speed and get caught it will be taken off me

What terrifies you? Loneliness

Look to your left, what do you see? My glass of water

What chore do you hate? Mopping

What do you think of when you hear an Australian accent? If you can’t tell already, I’m Australian so it’s normal? Haha

What’s your favourite soda? I don’t really like how soft drink makes my stomach feel so I don’t drink it. If I do it’s usually Solo (a lemon soft drink)

Do you go in a fast food place or just hit the drive-thru? Depends, I don’t mind sitting in sometimes.

Who’s the last person you talked to? My brother

Favourite cut of beef? I don’t know names of cuts of beef lol. I had to google it but I think my favourite is rib fillet.

Last song you listened to? Hear the Sound by Mayday Parade

Last book you read? The Dry by Jane Harper

Favourite day of the week? Saturday cause it’s the day I currently take off from doing uni work

Can you say the alphabet backwards? Yes

How do you like you coffee? I don’t really drink coffee, but when I do, just with milk, no sugar. So probably a flat white or cappuccino.

Favourite pair of shoes? My white high-top Converse

The time you normally go to bed? 10pm, I know I’m a grandma. Technically I go to bed at 9 and read for an hour.

The time you normally get up? 6-7am, I love mornings.

What do you prefer, sunrise or sunsets? Sunrise

How many blankets on your bed? Most of the year I only have a sheet on my bed, but when winter hits it’s usually 3 blankets and sheets because I get cold easily.

Describe your kitchen plates. We don’t have a set plate, does that make sense? All of our plates are different. There’s multicoloured ones, white ones with flowers around the edge, plain white, etc.

Do you have a favourite alcoholic beverage? Vodka and soft drink or cider. Tbh I haven’t tried that many.

Do you play cards? Yes, all the time. I play various types of solitaire, and with my family we play speed, go fish, rummy, war lords and scumbags, uno, etc.

What colour is your car? I don’t own a car myself. My parents’ car is white.

Can you change a tire? No

Your favourite province? Does this mean city or town or something? I love Brisbane, where I live, but Adelaide is also lovely. I honestly haven’t really been anywhere.

Favourite job you’ve ever had? I’ve only had one job which was a waitress and I hated it because I’m socially anxious and was scared that people were going to yell at me for getting their order wrong or something all the time

How did you get your biggest scar? I’m the clumsiest person, I have two that are probably about the same size. One I got falling out a tree, I scraped my stomach down the trunk and ended up with a huge cut. I fell down sandstone stairs and now I have a huge scar across my shin.

What did you do today that made someone else happy? I started doing this when I woke up 40 mins ago (yes it’s really taken me that long to do this) so I haven’t done anything today

I tag: anyone who wants to do it.