#and i intend to be happy with what i got rather than sad for what i didn't

[rusty-lustful-fireflies]

My addition to nandermo queerbait debate; aka why does it feel like queerbaiting

I feel like a lot of arguing could be cut down here if we agreed on what a definition of queerbait is. Cause you see, by the official definition it's about hinting at character's sexualities being anything but straight. At this light wwdits does not queerbait cause everybody's queer. Hence nandermo can be only shipbaiting.

However I feel like it's not a definition that is commonly used by the public. And I think we should consider what would count as one. I must admit, to me, until recently when I've done my proper research digging, it seemed it goes as something of the following:

1. When media producers set up a dynamic in which they hint at romantic/erotic/really any not platonic development between same sex characters (different but gender queer would count too if mainstream media bothered with such representation) without any wish to ever actually follow through with it, using it as a marketing tool instead, to attract larger, maybe more committed audience, mostly thanks to queer community.

They basically set up plotlines mirroring those in romances and follow them for some time. Very often they also do step 2

2. After said media gains a large following of people invested in queer romance the romantic development of characters mostly dies down, writing opting out for status quo platonic dynamic, systematically interrupted with emotionally loaded ,,canon evidence" ambiguous, grand gesture scenes instead, to keep the audience believing in chances of non-platonic development till the end.

And my point with formulating that unofficial amateur definition is:

Even though we weren't queerbaited this time, at least by official definition, because of the ,,they are canonically queer" difference, as the audience of wwdits we went through the exact same process we did during any queerbaiting in history. Supernatural did that, Sherlock did that and so on. Plus I believe most of supernatural fans really hoped for canon destiel more than castiel confirmed pansexual, so the relationship aspect is what gets attributed to queerbaiting more.

Queer characters aren't exactly uncommon in the cinema, especially comedy, so much as they commonly aren't treated seriously, with development, arcs and yeah romances of their own. (Although we could use some quantity too in my humble opinion)

In the end, it doesn't matter if we were queerbaited or just shipbaited, cause no matter how we call it the effect stays the same. As always we hoped for them to be together. As many times before, we thought so based on purposeful writing decisions made to set up this effect, yet get gashlited that we created it in our silly homo minds which can not perceive friendship.

btw, you can disagree with me 100% on that, by all means have a different opinion, but please if you wish to tell me about it, stay polite while doing so.

[pastabaguette]

sorry for all the posts today, but this one is very important: alternian video game edits.

i actually have reasonings for all of their blood types, and a few classpects, so i'll dive into them here:

monika: i'm thinking that early in the game, during acts 1 and 2, she maybe masqueraded as a jadeblood or higher. only during act 3 does she reveal herself as a fuchsia to the protagonist.

gordon and alyx: gordon is probably a tealblood, or somewhere around there. fairly high, but not too high, i think. alyx is an olive, and eli is an indigo. azian was probably a gold. (or lime?) i did have to keep gordon’s orange HEV suit, though. surely you understand. okay, troll half life lore: i think on alternia, all the main characters in the half life franchise are like, olive or above. the rebels in follow freeman and the guards are all lowbloods, so that the player doesn't feel too bad about sacrificing them, or something like that. i think this would be something that would happen in an alternian video game, at least.

agent 47: 47 is actually a mutant, due to being manufactured in a lab. he's a weird ice-blue color. he's still got that piercing stare. i felt a little sad changing his iconic red tie, but i do have some thoughts on that as well. obviously, red in human culture tends to symbolize passion, among other things, and in this case, violence and aggression, because it's the color of blood. however, because trolls all have different blood colors, i think they might have different meanings attached to colors than humans typically do. i think that typically, the colors that would most commonly represent aggression in alternian culture would be blue (cobalt and indigo) and purple. now, i know that the sea dwellers exist, but since the vast majority of trolls are lowbloods, they would have a lot more contact with the land-dwelling highbloods, rather than the fish. so, 47’s tie is blue. (i also just think it looks cool matching his eyes)

chell: I made chell a bronzeblood. she’s a test subject, but not one of the special ones (astronauts, olympians, etc). she’s just another lab rat. (also, a lot of her outfit is orange…)

now for classpects! i only have two i’m sure of as of now:

gordon freeman is an heir of hope. this one is fairly obvious to me. a common belief is that heirs have the ability to become their aspect, in a way. in half life 2, gordon quickly becomes the main symbol of the resistance on earth. for the rebels, he himself IS hope.

agent 47 is a prince of life. again, it’s a common interpretation that princes are themselves void of their aspect, and they destroy that aspect in others. this is really literal, obviously, but as a hitman, 47 kills people. literally destroying life. as for his own lack of life in himself, it’s pretty simple as well. 47 is almost always described as entirely void of emotion and empathy. others often remark on his soulless stare, a lack of life behind his eyes. so, as a prince, he fulfills both criteria there.

holy hell, that was a lot of words. i didn’t intend to talk this much. feel free to add your own thoughts; i’d like to hear what others think. these descriptions were a bit rushed, and i don’t really consider myself to be very good at communicating my thoughts, so a lot of things may have been lost in translation. i’d be happy to try and elaborate on my reasonings for any of them.

(oh, also, please no alyx spoilers. i haven’t played it yet!)

[khywren]

i'm not sure if i've seen anyone talk about it, but i was thinking about how bittersweet spawn astarion's ending is and why i'm grateful that's the case. this got a little longer than intended, so i've put the rest beneath the cut.

i can't remember where it is or what the exact dialogue is, but i recall at some point astarion is talking about killing cazador and how it's going to basically be this amazing, cathartic experience. and in some ways, it is; when he falls to his knees and starts sobbing, there's definitely a lot of relief there, that it's finally over. but when you talk to astarion right after that, he doesn't seem as happy as you might expect.

he even admits to feeling "a little numb" about the whole experience. when you talk to him back at camp (post graveyard scene), he still seems to be struggling with what happened.

for anyone who's ever struggled with their own personal trauma, i'm sure many of us have had that moment where we finally confront the person or thing responsible for all of it and, yeah, a lot of the time there's still a lot of self doubt that lingers or having to come to terms with the fact that things aren't magically fixed. you still have to carry that pain with you, in one way or another. that terrifying moment of: okay, what now? and it sucks. even astarion seems to realize that if you ask him what freedom feels like during the graveyard scene.

even though astarion is grateful that you, as the player, saw something in him and gave him the strength to face his trauma and take the first step towards overcoming it, he knows that he'll have to return to the shadows soon enough, as soon as the tadpole is gone.

and sure enough, after the netherbrain is defeated, he starts burning in the sun and has to run and hide. and while it does feel really sad, that's the point. i like that this version of his ending is bittersweet, instead of leaving with him perfectly happy. he's in a much better place than he was at the beginning of the game, certainly, but it's going to take a long time for him to overcome two centuries' worth of trauma. and while the epilogue does sort of walk some of that back, i still appreciate it for what it is. healing is a journey, and six months is decently long enough time for a romanced astarion to see tav as the "counterweight to two hundred years of misery" or a non-romanced astarion to still appear content about where he is at this point in his life. i think what he says about "these shadows, this darkness - it's all part of me" is actually really poignant, because i see it as him accepting everything that happened and embracing it as part of who he is, rather than trying to just sweep it all under the rug. that's not to say that his trauma defines him (nor does anyone's trauma), but i think it takes a lot of strength to say "yes, this happened to me, it was absolutely unfair, but i'm going to own it and come out stronger on the other side." overall, the tldr is basically: i like that picking the "good" ending still comes with consequences and isn't completely black and white - because that's not how life is. if it was a completely happy ending, i think it would undermine a lot of the narrative and not be nearly as satisfying. as someone who's had to deal with their own trauma, i think larian really hit the thematic nail on the head here. being able to help astarion with his own trauma has, in a way, helped me to deal with my own. i can't think of any other game i've played that did that for me, and it's why this game will always have a special place in my heart.

[sprout-fics]

Suicide mention tw

Yesterday was my survivor anniversary. This time last year I drove up into the mountains, took a long hike, and tried to kill myself. I didn't want to die so much as I couldn't stand living any longer. I had been so full of sadness and stress and dark emotions that I couldn't bear it for another day.

I had convinced myself I was a terrible, awful, rotten person to the core and that I didn't deserve to be here. I convinced myself over the course of months that I didn't deserve friends or loved ones, that the world would be a better place without me- that I'd be sparing the people I cared about by leaving them rather than have them deal with me.

The only thing that saved me was that in my haste to leave that day, I had grabbed the wrong medication I intended to OD with. So instead, I lay down for a bit, sat and stared into the woods, and thought about what it would mean to be happy.

Somehow, I'm still here.

It's been a rough year. I've struggled with my mental health, with finances, with employment and relationships, with family and with myself. It's taken so much effort to get to where I am, and even then I feel like some days it doesn't account for much. I'm still living with my parents, my finances are still in rough shape with my student debt, I've yet to get my first paycheck, and I've lost some very dear and cherished friendships in the past year.

But in the course of all of that, I've also done some pretty amazing stuff. I got my masters degree in Foreign Policy, I got a job offer that pays decently within my field, my position comes with training that will be invaluable to my career, I got surgery for my endometriosis which has resulted in a massive improvement of my chronic pain, and I managed to get a car with the help of family. I've paid off my credit debt in part thanks to commissions from some of my followers, and I've made new friends who I adore talking to. More than that I've learned a lot about myself in the past year.

I'm happier than I was before. I don't cry as much. I've worked to understand the reasons behind some of my behaviors and I have worked to address them in therapy so I can handle my emotions better. I listen better when people tell me things I need to hear, and I try to manage my self reflection with serenity instead of the spiral of self doubt. I've gotten a bit better at recognizing when I'm burnt out, and recognizing people I do and don't want in my life. I've learned to care about myself like I would care for a friend.

Yesterday I spent time laughing with friends, singing at the top of my lungs to my favorite songs in the car, and talking about all the things I want to write in the future- because I have a future. I'm not sure exactly when it happened, but at some point in the past year I looked up, and I realized I wasn't so sad anymore.

All of this to say- here's to another year, and a year after that, and many many more to come.

[popponn]

call you later; 1.

notes: what if you didn't pick up their call? they left a voicemail, in their own ways. characters: isagi yoichi, itoshi sae, seishirou nagi. [ part 2 : rin, bachira ]

isagi yoichi

Probably felt a little bit sad you didn’t pick up. You are probably his first crush—and only, for a long time, maybe, and this boy is committed with capital C when he is into something—so don’t be too hard on him. Like, hey, his #2 after the soccer itself didn’t pick up his phone? Poor guy.

But like the considerate boy off the pitch he is, Yoichi will immediately give you a brief of what he wanted to tell you before leaving the classic note of ‘i will call you again later’. It won’t be overly long, as he prefers to talk to you rather than to the empty void of a voicemail. Or at least he intends so to seem polite and proper, until he stutters and tripped all over his words a little bit. It’s cute though.

All in all, probably one of the most normal guy from Blue Lock, as usual, and whatever sad feelings he had from getting his call not being picked up will be gone the moment he got the chance to talk to you. A little advice, just make sure to actually call him later—knowing you reach out to him as soon as you can will make Mr. Egoist pretty happy.

“Uh, so… are you busy? Wait—you are not picking up of course you are busy…” Yoichi trailed off with a nervous laugh. “But, so, anyway, about our promise to walk around Saitama, I was wondering if your schedule is free this Sunday? I got two weeks off Blue Lock but I kinda want to make sure we can do it as soon as we can, so if anything comes up—ah, but I didn’t mean it in a bad way!”

It took Yoichi a few seconds to gather his composure before he continued, “I mean, uh, yeah, I just want to do it with you soon. I will call you again so we can talk about it later! Work hard, or have a good time! See you!”

itoshi sae

First of all, how dare you. He is famous and probably have people lining up for his number while you get him punching your number and didn’t pick up. Just for that, Sae might throw a tantrum, albeit a silent one.

On a more serious note, he will raise an eyebrow honestly, especially if you are the type to usually answer. But he is pretty independent most of the time, so he will only left a few words on the voice mail. In some occasions, though, when he just calls for the sake of listening to you, he will feel a little bit down. You can cheer him up later—you should, actually. Sometimes talking with Sae requires advanced mind reading technique and when he is a little bit down or pissed you really have to use that skill. Because boy, this guy is pretty constipated emotionally.

So, end notes, just call him real soon, okay? He might act cold and tough but he is also someone whose favorite show is Chibi Maruko-chan. He won’t say much in the voicemail or act like it afterwards, but he might really wait for you to call back, especially if he didn’t hear anything from or about you for a day. Though, honestly, just call him back or answer his next call before five seconds so everyone could be saved from his scathing vocabularies.

“What do you want for dinner? I’m picking you up later,” Sae said without wasting a second. “Hurry up and decide, then call me soon, got it? And in case you are thinking of anything funny, finish whatever you are working on first, then call me as soon as possible.”

For a moment, it was as if he was done. Then, a few beats of silence passed and he continued, “…and honestly… nevermind. Just call me soon.”

nagi seishirou

Yeah, let’s be real—he won’t leave a note and just give up. He willed out energy to call you first and you asked more from him? Wow. The fucking audacity.

But, let’s say, he really really wants to talk to you at the time and is in a really really really good mood—it will be long, if only for the long pauses. He will speaks sparsely, like the personification of bullet notes, as he doesn’t really see the point in talking if you are not really there to begin with. But, at the same time, Nagi Seishirou is also a Blue Lock egoist and he thinks having you listen to his voice note for a long time is not exactly a bad thought.

In the end, though, he really just want to hear your voice, actually. So, sooner or later, he will end the note with a ‘call me soon’ and plays a few games while waiting for you. The guy really need to recharge whatever small battery he has with you, so you really better call back if you don’t want to deal with a pouty Nagi holding a petty grudge for three minutes. And come on, do it for Reo, dude has way too much on his plate already.

“Eh, why are you not picking up?” Seishirou started with a complain, before immediately staying silent for a long time. Clearly on purpose, rather than for trying to remember something. “…I want to talk to you, so call me later, ‘kay?” he continued, in the end. “Choki also misses you by the way. You love Choki, right? So you really better call me back.”

Then, as an afterthought, he added, “Oh, I also have something I want to show you. So, let’s meet up next week. That’s all. Later.”

[katyawriteswhump]

I do, I do, I do 💝

For @steddieholidaydrabbles day 29 prompt, fairytale, and @whumpcember day 29 prompt, choked.

Rating: E; WC: 987 CW: sex, knotting, biting. Tags: Omega Steve, Alpha Eddie, fluff and angst, sex, fairytale-ish setting, cracky tbh, happy ever after. Summary: Omega Princess, Steve, has been conducting an illicit affair with devilishly handsome woodsman, Eddie. When his mother, the queen, announces an unwanted marriage for him, he has nobody else to run to…

💝💝💝💝💝

Steve stumbled into the forest, with his corset laced so tightly it choked him. He’d not intended to flee in this stupid pink ballgown. However, his mother had announced that he was to be wed to Lord Breedemhard.

At midnight tonight.

He ran.

Now, fear and cold congealed his blood. Mud clogged his silken slippers. Worse, the horses and hounds of his royal mother’s search party drew nearer. He was beyond exhausted, barely able to breathe… and now he scented another kind of beast, barrelling toward him.

They pounced, body-slamming Steve into a patch of fortuitously springy-soft moss. A wild-haired, mahogany-eyed Alpha pinned his wrists, growling:

“What’s an edible Omega like you, doing in a forest like this?”

“I… I…”  Steve trembled too hard to think. The Alpha licked Steve’s unbroken mating gland, then backed off, frowning.

“Baby, you’re scared. I know we didn’t arrange a tryst today, but I scented you and now I smell sadness. Don’t wanna play?”

Steve threw his arms around Eddie’s neck, told him everything: “I know our secret liaisons are a game for you, but I have n-nobody else.”

Eddie muttered under his breath. Steve, sniffling, braced for rejection. Then Eddie enfolded him tight, rocking soothingly. Steve cursed the corset more than ever, because he could barely feel Eddie’s kind caressing hands:

“I thought you were the one playing games with a lowlife woodsman, Princess.”

“Then I’m sorry! I know I can be a tease, even a bit of a bitch, but… I’m very much in love with you.”

“Seriously, you can’t mean—”

“I do, I do, I do!” Steve got right in Eddie’s baffled face, searching it desperately. “Tonight, I’ll have to say that to an Alpha thrice my age, after being punished for ruining my gown. Unless you’ll help?”

Not that Steve could hear his pursuers anymore. He wasn’t even that scared. Eddie’s comforting closeness overwhelmed his senses, as did Eddie’s words:

“I love you too.” He cupped Steve’s face and smiled, setting Steve’s heart flipping. “I didn’t dare hope. I ache when we’re apart… Mmmmf!”

With an un-Omega-like boldness, Steve initiated the kiss, which Eddie returned hungrily, plundering passionately to Steve’s depths. It was like being swept away over the rainbow… till Steve started seeing stars, and not in a good way.

Bloody corset! Can’t breathe!

Eddie broke the kiss. “What’s wrong? You’re safe now. They won’t find you.”

“Oh… um, crazily, it’s not mother.” Steve tugged his ballgown from his shoulders. “Omegas are supposed to have tiny waists and perfect deportment. This stupid corset suffocates me.”

Eddie nuzzled tenderly at Steve’s nape, while loosening the laces. As his breathing grew easier, Steve filled his lungs with Eddie’s potent Alpha musk. Finally, Eddie eased Steve out of the torturous whalebone cage and tossed it aside.

“Thank you!”

Steve whirled around so they could kiss again, and Eddie pressed him back into the moss. He’d never felt so loose and relaxed, so pliant and ready to play. Eddie’s nearness and kisses ignited a nectar-like glow inside him. The gush of slick from his cleft had him squirming with glee.

“Claim me now, Alpha!”

He anticipated a brush-off. To be fair, they should probably hide from his mother.

Instead, Eddie beamed wolfishly: “With pleasure, my Princess.” 

Eddie unlaced his britches, and his Alpha cock sprung free, weeping in a fashion that made Steve rather proud. Meanwhile, that candied glow became a nigh-torturous ache of emptiness. Fortunately, Steve’s tattered petticoats hitched up easily, and Eddie inserted his steel-rod of an erection between Steve’s wet folds.

“You sure?” whispered Eddie. They’d only played games before, and Steve was a virgin.

He gaped, nodded. Eddie’s tongue breached Steve’s mouth for another kiss the same instant that cockhead split him.

“Good?” asked Eddie.

“Sublime.”

Eddie nudged deeper, stretching Steve’s oh-so-wet-and-ready tunnel impossibly wide—plowing slow and sweet, while Steve adjusted, any slight pain fading. Steve soon rocked his hips, silently pleading. Eddie let rip. Everything disintegrated beyond the feel of Eddie inside him, kindling hitherto unknown sensations of rapture that built and built. Even better, Eddie made love—his adoring gaze penetrated Steve’s soul. All Steve could do was bask in it, whispering, ���l-love yoooou… ooooh!”

The wondrous friction gradually grew too much, bordering on torture again. When an unexpectedly high-tide of it burst, Steve cried out, clamping so hard around Eddie that Eddie howled too. His knot caught inside Steve, and he stopped moving, while his dick swelled even larger, pumping out molten heat.

“Sorry, Princess.”

“D-don’t you dare apologise for giving me what I’ve craved since we met.” Steve loved this stuffed feeling as much as anything. He still wanted more: “Bite me!”

Eddie’s fangs pierced Steve’s mating gland, and the sharp pain robbed his breath yet again. He saw stars again too. They were almost as beautiful as his mate, whom they only briefly eclipsed.

Eddie nested with Steve in the velvet moss, his knot buried deep. He kissed Steve’s sore neck and smothered him with love, while in the distance, the search party danced in fruitless circles.

“I ruined their ball.” Steve snickered. “Thank you for ruining me.”

“You’re more perfect than ever,” whispered Eddie. “No more games.”

“One thing confuses me, tho’. How did you know we’d not be found?”

Instinctually, he’d trusted his Alpha to keep him safe. It was still befuddling.

“Sweetheart, I might look like a devilishly handsome woodsman. I’m also a wizard on the lute and… a powerful mage. I cast a protection spell when you told me about your pursuers.”

“Oh.” Steve let that sink in, then returned to enjoying the fullness of Eddie’s knot, while purring more madly than he’d believed possible. “Thank you, Alpha.”

A few hours later, Steve’s mother was handed his corset—covered in fake blood that Eddie had conjured—and presumed he’d been ravaged by beasts.

Steve and Eddie, meanwhile, returned to a cosy cottage, raised six pups, and lived happily ever after.

💝💝💝💝💝

(yes, um... sorry. Again. Set very loosely in the same universe as this fic, which could be read as following on, although the tone is rather different.)

tags: @wheneverfeasible 💚 My stranger things fic on AO3

[obae-me]

Hello, and welcome to another installment of niche content containing another mash of my two special interests. Written out of boredom at the airport. Today's edition, fueled with my excitement of being able to go to none other than Miku Expo 2024, I give:

The Brothers As My Favorite Vocaloid Songs!

Yes, I know, please, quell your excitement. I know everyone was waiting for this one. I will take no criticisms or judgments, only enthusiastic additions.

Warning: While nothing stated in this post needs a full content warning, if anyone decides to look up these songs, many songs themselves have plenty of individual warnings, so please search with caution.

Lucifer:

Now, the song I think he'd actually enjoy listening to is Daughter of Evil. It's got tragedy behind it, the song is a bit more classical/waltzy, exactly the kind of thing he likes. However based off his vibes alone, I'm gonna say Honey I'm Home. Mostly because I love Ghost and Pals but also because religious trauma. And I know other people agree with me because I've seen fanart of it.

Mammon:

I think Mammon would listen to Sand Planet. Oo, or Bring it On. Do I have a detailed explanation as to why? Not really in so many words, but it just seems like something he'd listen to, I feel it in my bones. I will not be taking any questions. Now the song I think he embodies? Wildcard. I mean, the whole motif is about playing cards, it's upbeat and fast paced and I love it and I love Kasane Teto even more.

Levi:

I will physically fight anyone who doesn't think Levi listens to Rolling Girl at least once a day (I won't actually fight anyone but I feel very strongly on this matter). It helps him get through hard times but it also makes him cry. Which...same, Levi, same. But if Leviathan were to be a song itself, I'd have to pass it over to Volt Tackle by Deco*27. Pokémon, talking about fighting and struggling at first to capture someone's love? Oo, or Digital Girl. It's got him written all over it. (Or if I want to be sad, give him Anthropophobia)

Satan:

See, Satan is hard because I never know if I envision him listening to heavy metal or if he prefers soft melodies. And, I mean, I know he can like more than one genre at once, but picking THE song I think he'd listen to is hard... but if I'm going off of what I like as well as gut instinct... Abstract Nonsense. Now, selected off his character, I'd have to pick Hikari Yo. It's just very emotional and desperate and the poor demon boi is like that on the inside quite a lot. WAIT or Pathalogical Facade! Oo, lots of options for Good Ol Satan.

Asmo:

Easy, he'd love Gimmie×Gimmie and I don't think I need any further explanation on this opinion. I actually think Asmo would unironically like a lot of vocaloid songs, personally. And as for his songification, I handpick Aishite, Aishite, Aishite. And I know there's a lot of different people's interpretations to this song and everything and people get very... I guess territorial when it comes to this song (at least from specific corners I've seen) but it makes sense to me. It's a really popular song and it's hauntingly beautiful and it's about wanting to be loved and adored and this is MY post so I can say whatever I want about it.

Beel:

Beel is another one that's hard for me to pin down... I think his music taste (joke not intended) is rather eclectic. He probably actually has no real preference other than more upbeat songs to make it easier to work out to. In which case I get to pick whatever I wish. For him I would make him listen to Happy Halloween. I don't care what time of year it is, it's cute and upbeat and about getting treats and it's one of my favorite songs ever. Now one to embody him?... Goodness that's even harder. I would love to say Appetite of a People Pleaser, but Beel's not a people pleaser... I actually don't know! Maybe I am a sham of a fan. I am open to suggestions for my baby Beel.

Belphie:

You know I have to pick Tokyo Teddy Bear. This mans is too edgy not to listen to it all too often. Plus, it's a classic. And, you know I have to make this all even sadder by giving him the song Error. Because I like to make myself cry. And Belphie needs a good cry, let's be honest with ourselves.

I'm also going to add the Distortanist as an honorable mention for unhinged Lesson 16 Belphie.

[bokettochild]

Okay, you wanted asks.

What is your favorite headcanon about Sky?

What would he do if he found out he was related to Legend ( and not currently imprisoned and in danger like in that fic)? Would he be happy or sad that another of his descendants had to suffer his fate?

Get well soon!

Favorite Sky headcannon? Golly, I have a lot, but one that makes me really happy is that he and his family are all really good at fiber arts, and while he's not much for knitting/crochet, he is amazing at embroidery. Like, he genuinely enjoys it,a ND he can and will add embroidery to almost any piece of fabric you give him unless it will cause direct problems to do so.

I also like the idea that he tries to write poetry, is abysmally bad at it, knows he's bad at it, but still tries <3

-

As for the Legend thing. If he'd found out in better circumstances, with the framework of "guess who's your descendant!" rather than "because I'm your descendant, I have a price on my head" he probably would have taken it better.

I really think Sky wants kids. Not right now, of course, since he and Sun are both dealing with a lot and adding a small child to the mix would be terrible, but they definitely dream of having a house full of little ones one day. While he's a bit young to suddenly be the ancestor to a teenager, the confirmation that he'll be a dad, and also meeting a descendant who's as great as Legend is would be very precious to him. In better circumstances, and maybe stumbled into rather than laid bare in all the bloody detail, I think Sky would be ecstatic after he got past that initial shock of "crap I'm a dad".

Now, it would be a bit weird of course, because he'd see Time being a dad to his descendant and have a bit where he had to figure out his relationship with Legend again, trying to find balance knowing that they're family and thus that he's "supposed to be the adult", but considering Legend's pretty well grown (or at least acts as though he is most of the time), I think, give time, space and a healthy environment, they'd sort of just decide to be friends instead except on the rare occasion where it actually becomes relevant. They're pretty close in age after all, so trying to parent someone only a few years younger would be weird for both of them. Now, if Legend needed a safe person Sky'd jump in, and yeah, he probably gets more defensive and worries ore for Legend than he would have before, because there's no direct responsibility, but I think he'd be okay at not becoming stifling or pushy about it.

I do actually intend to play with this dynamic in the Crown Amidst Courage fic I'm writing, and sort of did the same in the Feathered AU, so I definitely will be releasing content soon for these two (Sky is currently ranking as my #3 and I am getting majorly attached rn LOL)

Thanks for the ask!!!!

[saturnsbabyboii]

💚Astro Observations my friend and I came up with while high💚 (Also Cause it’s 420)

💚I find that Moon signs don’t necessarily fit into their “descriptions” because it’s not who they are per se but rather what they desire when they’re feeling vulnerable and emotional. 

💚 For example, Capricorn Moons aren’t cold, distant and always practical, however, they do desire a more action based kind of support. Rumination and “talking about it” won’t cut it if they don’t have an action plan or something solid (or someone that they considered to be as such) to guide them. 

💚 Another example, Leo Moons aren’t attention seeking but rather they desire to feel seen and heard. They want someone that can understand what they have a hard time expressing, something very troubling for a Leo. They also find themselves able to be more open with people that are authentic about how they feel and their expression, be it verbal or artistic. 

💚 Despite people calling them flighty, Air placements are usually logical and based in reality. They may exaggerate or get too excited but they never pull shit out of vapor or believe it “just because”. Debating them is not for the weak. Not because they’re strongheaded (not always) but because they know what they’re talking about.

💚Earth placements are great liars, cause no one ever suspects them. A good liar is never known as such, hell they make a good living out of it. (Not calling people snakes or fake just that they don’t do something half assed, including the art of deception)

💚 Why couldn’t Cancers be called Lunarians or Lunars? No offense but who in the f thought it was a good idea to call the crab constellation Cancer? The amount of embarrassing cross over that happen means that we require to take action.

❣️Side bar but shout out to everyone that is going through or went through any form of cancer, whether it was you or a loved or anyone that you know. We love and support you, and your resilience is an inspiration and a testament to what’s important in life.❣️ ⠀

💚 The obsession that Aquarius placements have with cyberpunk/cyber core/Dystopian/Apocalyptia/Futuristic aesthetic is wild. They can’t wait until the world end so they can rock that fashion on the dumpster runway.

💚 I honestly associate cats with Virgos not Leos.

💚What’s with Mars in Fire signs/Fire houses (1st/5th/9th) and throwing things. It doesn’t matter if they’re excited, happy, angry or sad they just go ┬─┬ノ( º _ ºノ) then (┛ಠ_ಠ)┛彡┻━┻

💚 Although Scorpios go hard to defend themselves, Taurus would cut a bitch for their love ones. They don’t give a damn what you say about them but you’ll be getting more than what you bargained for when they start swinging out of nowhere after you bring up anyone they love. Especially when it comes to their animals and babies. 

💚 Out of all the Venus signs, I never heard someone talk about liking a Libra Venus. 

💚 Air Mars natives waiting for you to finish talking before they slaughter your ass is amazing to me

💚 Water signs are true foodies. Foodier than Earth signs even. Water in the 6th house especially can eat a whole cow, or tree if you’re vegan.   

💚 The power of the eyebrow raise that Fire Mercuries make when they know that you got the right one. 

💚 Because time is subjective I believe the 12th house can give us insight on our relationship with it. As a finite part of life, in the house final endings the sign over the house (and the placements as well) can help navigate it. 

💚 For example, Virgo in the 12th may catastrophize and worry about things that are out of their control, such as time, and spend so much of their energy trying to do so. Their growth and ascension into a higher state of mind comes in finding power in learning to separate what we can control and what we can’t, and letting life go as intended without much intervention.

💚 For me, the whole point of learning about astrology is to break your own cycle and to grow out of your birth chart rather than conform to it.

💚Libra placements get so tenacious with age. As they get older, they realize that being in the better graces of others is futile work.

That’s all. I think I might’ve had more but I can’t remember everything we talked about 😅. 

Byeee!

[kitramune]

Popping by seeking your thoughts about Chapter 176: Kagome’s Heart, this specifically:

As we know, it’s a major turning point in the story. Kagome asks to stay by Inuyasha’s side, rather than leave him, the feudal era, and the jewel shard mission behind.

Now this is pure speculation, but I like to speculate. What if Kagome had left? Certainly, that’s an entirely different story, but I’m curious what you think may have happened in this scenario.

Some particular questions I have are:

Would Inuyasha have teamed up with Kikyo to try to collect shards and defeat Naraku?

Kagome was the glue that brought the Inugang together. In her absence at /this/ point of the story (the 3 year separation is different), would they have parted? As in, would Miroku, Sango, and Shippo parted ways with Inuyasha if he teamed up with Kikyo (I don’t see her being a fan of traveling with the inugang)? If so, do they fight Naraku in their smaller group, do they survive, etc.

Would Naraku/ the jewel still have been defeated?

Even *if* InuKik defeated Naraku/ the jewel (I don’t think they would have), how does the story end? Kikyo isn’t alive so she.. dies? Achieves nirvana and Inuyasha just.. grieves the rest of his life or joins her in death? I don’t see a happy ending ☹️

Just seeking civil discussion as always not trying to light any fires xD

Oh man, this is a sad one, let me strap in with a depressing yearning/pining playlist. First off, I think this arc shows a LOT of things about both Inuyasha and Kagome's character, good and bad. Mostly good, but perhaps in bad context. Or at least very sad context. I mean we got Inuyasha going from this:

... to this:

(I know this isn't the same arc but bear with me, the character development is there and he has a similar change of heart here, for her emotional wellbeing, not just physical.) The important thing to note is Kikyou wanted to die at this point, and still to take Inuyasha with her.

And Inuyasha's response was this:

So even if it's born out of extreme guilt and trauma, I find it unlikely they would have fought Naraku at all. Kikyou talks a big game, but first chance she gets she is always trying to call Inuyasha to her side strictly to die, never for his help. (At this point.) Inuyasha more than likely would have been coerced to Hell even against his better judgement. Shippou was willing to leave the group once already without Kagome (after the Sess fight, he only came back cuz of the wolves chasing him) and Miroku is used to being a loner vagabond. Who knows what would happen to Shippou but Miroku and Sango would have likely drifted apart, encountered Naraku, and perished, even if they were together tbh. (Let's face it, Sango's pretty helpless against the Kohaku card.) Even Kagome would have been miserable having her tie to Inuyasha go unfulfilled and always regretting not knowing if everyone was still alive and safe or if she left them to their doom. So with that being said, as much as I love this scene as a pure example of her devotion to Inuyasha, there realistically WAS some pressure on her decision. I think she fully knew Kikyou intended to kill Inuyasha and that he couldn't say no because of his vulnerabilities and perceived superior love for her. (That hurts me to say but it's Kagome's POV.) That's why she had the lines about wanting him to feel like he's allowed to be happy and she wants that for him. She feels that normally, yes, but even moreso in the wake of knowing he'll likely forfeit his life. (I think the anime even emphasized this by adding her saying "You have to know that I want you to live." SOMEONE had to show him they care enough or he'd be too far gone.) The beautiful part is that Kagome DID full-on save Inuyasha's life by making her choice. Because she's unsure if she'll be able to help him enough to keep him around forever, but he's shown an uncanny desire to LIVE for her. Which obviously he continues to show again and again, and is my favorite part of their relationship. An outcast so abused and conditioned to it that the first person to care about him tells him to die and he absolutely will. But that outcast learns he wants to live way more, through interacting with unconditional love. I've said it before but Kikyou to me was always a metaphor for Inuyasha's grief and succumbing to the pain, whereas Kagome was always symbolic for a desire to live and be happy again.

[rambosgirl]

First blood rambo, as a husband, where he and the reader helping each other with mental health issues? much love ♥

UUUGGH I love this idea! Thanks for the request <33 I spent so much time on the backstory oopsie

Warnings: mentions of Rambo's PTSD, depiction of depression, loss of parents for reader

Masterlist

We may not be perfect but we're perfect together

Hope was a small town nestled among towering pine trees and rugged mountains. Everyone knew each other in town, and the arrival of strangers was always a topic of conversation for the people. You had always lived there, your parents raising you in the quiet, predictable suburbs in the close-knit community.

All that changed the day he came into town. John Rambo.

You first spotted him walking along the main street in town, his military jacket and sad eyes marking him as someone who had seen too much in his lifetime. The townspeople buzzed with whispers about him, the drifter, especially after Sheriff Teasle confronted and escorted him out of town.

The way the sheriff dealt with drifters wasn't new, but the way you felt about this one was. You sensed there was more to him than met the eye, and you felt genuinely bad for him when the sheriff took him away.

The tranquility of Hope shattered and chaos erupted when news spread about Rambo's arrest and then escape. The manhunt that came next turned the town into a war zone. You returned to your home earlier than expected, as per the sheriff's request. Everyone had. You kept the news on, anxious about the updates it would give. You wanted your home to go back to its peaceful ways, but you also rooted for Rambo, who seemed to be fighting a war within himself. You just hoped he would be okay and that your town would be okay.

The news showed that he eventually turned himself in with the help of his old colonel. You didn't hear much about what happened to him after that, but even months later, you found yourself thinking about him often.

Many months later, through the usual conversation and gossip in the town you learned that Rambo's colonel, named Troutman, convinced the judge to shorten Rambo's sentence. The news was met with mixed reactions in Hope. Some feared he would return, others were indifferent, and some were angry. Angry about the wreck he left behind when he was arrested, and just angry about the war in general. You however, found yourself hoping he would find a fresh start.

Almost a year after the incident, you spotted Rambo again. He had returned to Hope, or rather the outskirts of it. He chose to live in a remote cabin nestled deep within the woods near where he had once escaped and hid.

The townspeople gossiped about his return and Sheriff Teasle made it clear he wasn't happy about it, but he had learned his lesson last time and steered clear of the veteran.

You decided to do the opposite of the sheriff and reach out to him. You didn't really know the reason why you felt the need to know him, but you at least wanted to offer him kindness he probably needed. One afternoon, you gathered your courage and explored into the woods intending to find his cabin, carrying a basket of homemade bread and jam.

His cabin was difficult to find, and you ended up seeing him before you found his home. He was in a clearing, carving something on a piece of wood with his knife. He spotted you when you were a ways away, and you approached him carefully. As you got closer, his eyes scanned you for any sign of threat. But your genuine smile and the simple gesture of bringing food softened his stance.

He accepted the food, a slight nod of appreciation the only sign that he welcomed the gesture. You stood for a moment unsure of what to say.

"I don't usually venture into the woods," you admitted, glancing around at the dense trees that seemed to close in from all sides. "But I thought I thought maybe you could use some company or at least some food," you said, holding your basket up.

His eyes met yours for a brief moment, his expression unreadable, but he didn't seem annoyed by your presence. He didn't say much, just a quiet "Thank you," before returning to the piece of wood in his hands. It was clear he wasn't used to having visitors, and you weren't sure if you were intruding or accompanying.

Feeling awkward, you added "If you ever need anything, I'm usually in town." With that, you turn to leave, the path back feeling longer than the way there.

During your walk, you couldn't shake the feeling that something important had started, even if you didn't fully understand it yet.

Over the next few weeks, you made it a habit to stop by his cabin. Sometimes you brought fresh bread, other times small supplies you thought he might need, like candles or a new set of gloves for the winter. Each time he accepted your offerings with the same quiet acknowledgment and each time the silence between you grew more comfortable.

During this time, the silence started to fade away and turn into small talks with each other. You and John started having short conversations about simple things like the weather, the recipe used for your bread, and your hobbies.

One summer afternoon during your visit, you lingered a bit longer than normal, the conversations flowing in short simple exchanges. You told him about the town, how things had settled back into routine since he returned. He listened, his responses brief but thoughtful.

Then, one week you didn't come. You weren't feeling well, stuck in an endless cycle you knew well. You all but abandoned your personal hygiene, opting to stay in bed or aimlessly wandering your home. You wanted to visit John, but you didn't have the energy to leave your house.

John noticed your absence, but there was nothing he could do about it. He made a mental note to mention it the next time you came. He was surprised just how much he missed having you a part of his routine.

When you came back the next week, John's eyes reflected a flicker of concern as you approached your meeting spot. You were quieter, less cheerful than usual, your smile faint and more tired. He noticed the subtle changes - how your steps lacked their usual lightness and your hair messy as if you just got out of bed.

"Everything okay?" he asked, his voice as low and steady as always, but with an undertone of genuine concern.

You hesitated, not wanting to burden John with your depression and the thoughts that came with it. But then you remembered all he'd gone through, so you thought, maybe he was the one person who wouldn't judge you, but would understand your pain.

I've just hit a tough patch," you admitted, your eyes glued to the ground. "Sometimes it's like this. It's hard to get out of bed to do anything, really. That's why I didn't come last week."

John nodded, looking in the distance like he was deep in thought. For a long moment neither of you spoke, the silence filled with the sounds of the forest around you.

After what felt like an eternity, he spoke again, his voice almost a whisper.

"I get it," he said, his words simple but heavy with meaning. "Sometimes it gets difficult for me too."

You looked up at him, surprised by the admission. You knew that he had been through so much during the war and after, but it was the first time he opened up to you about anything personal and you realize how much trust he was placing in you by sharing even that small piece of himself.

From that day on, your visits felt different - more significant, more connected. You continued to confide in him about your struggle with depression, and told him about the dark days when getting out of felt impossible and the constant battle to find joy and meaning in life.

John opened up more about his past - his time in the war, the friends he had lost, and the nightmares that still plagued him.

Soon, the relationship between the two of you started to change for the better. You started to visit him more, and he even started coming into town to visit you. Before long, the two of you were inseparable.

Many of the townspeople began to accept his presence, now seeing him as less of a threat and more as one of them. Mitch, the young redhead deputy, reached out to John, and soon another friendship blossomed.

During this time, your and John's relationship started to become romantic. He would take you on casual dates at different cafes in town, the library, and John's personal favorite - hiking. It didn't take long for the both of you to know that you wanted to be together forever.

One evening, under the stars near his cabin, John asked you to marry him. He didn't have a ring or a rehearsed speech. Just a simple heartfelt question. You said yes without hesitation, knowing that despite your imperfections you were perfect for each other.

When it came time for your wedding day, everything was perfect. You were in a simple but beautiful dress, and John was in a freshly pressed suit. You both picked a beautiful clearing in the woods, and you invited a few close friends to witness. Mitch was the best man, a few of your close friends were bridesmaids, and John's closest friend, Trautman came all the way out to marry the two.

The ceremony took place at sunset, the golden light filtering through the trees as you exchanged rings and vows. John's voice was steady as he looked into your eyes.

"We may not be perfect," he said, "but together, we're stronger and better."

As the night went on, you did typical wedding things, like cutting the little cake made by your mom's old bakery, and tossing your bouquet to your group of friends.

Trautman offered his hand to you after the bouquet toss. You looked at him, confused.

"For a father-daughter dance," he said, taking your hand. "You're family now."

You teared up as you danced. You hoped that your parents would make it to your wedding, but they passed away a few years ago.

As the dance ended, you thanked Trautman, feeling a warmth in your heart you haven't felt in a long time. The loss of your parents had left a void, but today, surrounded by friends and the man you loved, you felt pure joy.

As the evening continued, your friends slowly began to go home, leaving you and John in the last light of the setting sun. The clearing was quiet now, the soft home of the forest filling the air.

"Would you dance with me?" You asked in a hushed tone. You knew John wasn't one for grand gestures, but he looked at you, his expression softening before he nodded and gently took your hand in his.

There was no music for you to dance to, just the sounds of the wildlife in the forest. You laid your head against his chest as the stars started peeking out in the sky. You listen to his heartbeat while his arms wrapped around you, and for a moment, it felt like nothing else existed but the two of you dancing in the woods.

"I never thought I'd have this," he murmured his voice low and filled with emotion. "A home, a family...you."

You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his. "You deserve it, John. We deserve it."

He smiled a rare, genuine smile and leaned down to press his lips against your forehead.

"Let's go home," he said softly.

He led you to the cabin you knew so well and started a fire in the fireplace. You sat by each other in the familiar comfortable silence you often shared.

As you sat together, you thought about the best day of your life that you just lived, about the vows you just made.

"We may not be perfect, but together we're stronger and better."

Those words echoed in your mind, I promise not just for today, but for every day that followed.

Married life was peaceful and happy with John, but the both of you still had your hard days. With each other, you were able to cope a little better and heal more with time.

The woods surrounding the cabin were quiet, the moon' glow filtering through the curtains and casting patterns of light onto the wood walls.

John suddenly woke up drenched in sweat and disoriented. He sat up carefully, trying to catch his breath while keeping you undisturbed. He looked over at your sleeping figure, your face relaxed and serene, framed by the moon's glow. The rise and fall of your chest was steady, a soothing rhythm that starkly contrasted with his erratic, fear-driven breathing.

He didn't want to wake you, he knew you had your own internal battles and needed to rest. He reached for a glass of water sitting on the nightstand, his movements deliberate and quiet, hoping that it might calm his nerves.

But the effort to keep still was in vain. You stirred sensing the disturbance in your sleep. Your eyes flooded open, and you noticed John sitting up and the haunted looking his eyes.

"John?" you whispered, "are you okay?"

"It's nothing," he reassured. "Just a bad dream."

You sat up, your hand reaching out to touch his arm. "You don't have to go through this alone," you said gently. "Let me help."

The weight of your words sat on his mind for a moment. He'd been fighting his trauma on his own and building walls for so long, he was still getting used to letting you in.

He leaned his head on your shoulder as you spoke again. "Was this a nightmare or a memory?"

"Memory."

An involuntary tear slipped down his cheek.

"It's over now, you're safe here," you whispered to him

John felt himself begin to relax, your words overcoming the fear his mind fed him. He pulled you into a hug and laid back down.

"What would I do without you?" John whispered.

"You'll never have to find out."

[asthedeathoflight]

Home For Christmas

Hi guys. This morning I sat down and was like hey I've had some Christmas Remjax thoughts, I should write a fun little one shot while I wait for everyone else to wake up. 4.5k words later it's no longer Christmas in my timezone and its less of a cute oneshot and more "how many remjax thesis statements can i fit into one fic. and also its christmas flavored." Merry christmas? merry christmas.

- - -

“Come on. Please?”

And here was the problem. Rembrandt has very round eyes, and very long eyelashes, and she had trained for years in the sacred art of using them to get what she wanted from Ajax. The puppy dog look she had on at the moment was not even a little bit genuine. It was a party trick. Ajax had caught her practicing it in her reflection in a subway window several times. 

None of this helped Ajax even in the slightest. Rembrandt made The Face, and she crumbled every single time, and just had to pray Rembrandt would use her powers for good and not evil. 

Her faith was waning by the day. Case in point:

“It’s not that I don’t want to go,” Ajax lied, “It’s that I don’t think you should go.” (Conveniently, the last part was seeming more and more true the longer this argument went on.)

“It’s just dinner!” Rembrandt insisted, and okay, who was lying now?

“It’s Christmas,” Ajax hissed. 

“It’s Christmas Eve,” Rembrandt shot back. 

A clever ruse. But Ajax wasn’t stupid. “That’s even worse.”

“Come ooooonn, it’s just for like an hour!” A bald-faced lie. Ajax couldn’t believe her ears. A Christmas Eve dinner that was only an hour long was more insulting than no dinner at all. “It’s not like I’m going to Mass with them or anything.”

“Did they invite you to Mass?”

“Well- um,” Rembrandt had the decency to look kind of sheepish. “Well a little bit?”

“Rembrandt!”

“I said no! I said just dinner! And they said that was fine!”

Well. That was progress. Kind of. And she was making The Face again. 

“Even if you did go,” Ajax said, which Rembrandt immediately (correctly) interpreted as an admission that she would be going, “I don’t see what the fuck I’d be doing going with you.”

“Going to a party,” Rembrandt said, like she didn’t see the problem. “That you were invited to.”

“I don’t-”

“Do you want me to get out the card again?” Rembrandt waved an arm at the cabinet where she’d tacked up the handful of Christmas cards they’d gotten, including the one from her aunt that did, admittedly, explicitly name Ajax in its invitation to Christmas Eve dinner. 

“No.” 

“What am I supposed to say if you don’t come, huh?” Rembrandt said, “She’ll be all sad. I’m sure she’s told everyone already that you’re coming.”

What had Dora told them? Who did they think was coming? Valerie’s roommate, yes, darling Valerie, who was supposed to be a ballet dancer and now lived in a shitty one-bedroom apartment down by the docks after a falling out with her parents that Ajax was sure they all suspected about. 

Ajax could barely even make it through small talk with the bodega guy. What the fuck was she supposed to say? 

“Just tell them I’m busy. I’ll go bother Cleon like always.” She would not. She had already told Cleon she was going with Rembrandt. Cleon’s eyes had gone all soft and happy. She’d rather stay home alone than tell her she wasn’t going after all. 

“No!” Rembrandt insisted, “I want you to come with me.”

The other Warriors wondered sometimes how Rembrandt got Ajax to go along with her, since Ajax was so stubborn. They had no fucking idea. 

“Why?” The question came out a little more raw than Ajax had been intending. 

Rembrandt stopped to look confused, and then a little bit sad. “I want them to meet you. I love you. I want the people who know me to know you.”

And that wasn’t The Face, not really. It could have used some workshopping. It was just a wrinkle between her eyebrows and the slightly bewildered, slightly defensive look Rembrandt always got when she was being honest, like she couldn’t believe she had to say what she was saying. Ajax didn’t have a very good track record resisting The Face, but she really didn’t stand a chance against whatever the fuck that look was. She caved. 

- - - 

“This is dumb,” Ajax said for about the millionth time since they’d left their apartment. It was the only way to preserve her dignity at having been defeated by Rembrandt making slightly-less-effective puppy dog eyes at her. 

“Your input has been noted,” Rembrandt deadpanned. She was a little nervous, Ajax thought. She was hiding it well, but Ajax knew the difference between normal Rembrandt fidgeting and nervous Rembrandt fidgeting. She gave Rembrandt a reassuring little nudge with her shoulder. Rembrandt shoved her back, which meant she wasn’t spiraling too bad. 

Dora’s house had been decorated with what Ajax found a frankly unnecessary number of Christmas lights, all along the eaves and wrapped around the bushes in the front yard. The soft amber glow from them did, admittedly, kind of make Rembrandt look like one of those hand-painted Christmas angel figurines, a fact Ajax was only noticing the normal amount. 

The steadying breath Rembrandt exhaled made a little swirl of steam in the cold air. Ajax wished, suddenly, that they didn’t have to go inside. That she could stay suspended in this moment, in the soft light, and not have to worry about anyone inside or what they thought of her. 

But the moment faded, as all moments do, into the next, and Rembrandt knocked on the door. It opened almost immediately, a woman Ajax didn’t recognize but who had something of Rembrandt in the corners of her eyes and set of her shoulders still looking over her shoulder to insist that she's got it, Jesus. The woman looked back towards them and Ajax braced herself for judgment or confusion or reproof, but she didn't even seem to see Ajax. The moment she saw Rembrandt, her eyes started to well with tears. 

Wordlessly, she reached out and drew Rembrandt into a tight hug. They were silent for a moment, before she said, quietly but fiercely into Rembrandt's hair, “It's good that you're here.”

She drew back and smiled, seemingly recovered, and waved them effusively into the house. As they crossed the threshold they were transported from a grim December evening into a Christmas-themed alternate reality. The whole living room had been hung with fragrant garlands of pine boughs, and the walls were papered with construction paper cutouts of stockings and candy canes and ornaments. 

The room, which was already lively, became a flurry of activity. Ajax was largely forgotten in the jostle, as everyone in the room suddenly wanted to hug Rembrandt and ask how she’d been. As Rembrandt disappeared towards the center of the room, it occurred to Ajax what it had meant, for her, not to go home for Christmas for so many years. Ajax hadn’t thought it strange when Rembrandt followed her to Cleon’s that first Christmas, and every Christmas after that, had just been selfishly glad to drag her into playing board games with them. 

But Rembrandt had been missed. In a way that, perhaps, the rest of them weren’t. There wasn’t anybody on Earth who was wondering where Ajax was tonight. But here was proof that, every year Rembrandt had been with them, there was a home missing her. Silently, Ajax toed off her boots and slipped past the crowd into the kitchen. 

It was quiet in there, with a few festive-scented candles burning and a couple pots simmering on the stove for dinner. Ajax was poking at the rice a few minutes later when Dora bustled in. 

“Oh, Ajax!” she said, with evident relief, “I didn’t know if you’d made it.”

Ajax considered pretending like she hadn’t been messing with the woman’s cooking, but she’d found that Dora appreciated honesty. “Needs salt,” she said. 

“Give me that.” Dora grabbed the spoon from her and tasted it. “Hm. Yes. Can you do it? I’ve got to go find another Santa hat.”

Without waiting for an answer from Ajax, she bustled right back out of the kitchen. Ajax stared after her, and then down at the rice. Sure. Shit. Cooking in someone else’s kitchen. Ajax squinted down at the little Christmas-themed shakers on the counter next to the stove. Was a kitten in a scarf more or less salty than a penguin with reindeer antlers? There was a trick to knowing which one was pepper, but Ajax couldn’t remember it. 

Admitting defeat was not one of Ajax’s strengths, but she backed off the shakers. There had to be a thing of salt somewhere else in the kitchen. After opening several cabinets and finding: cups, plates, more cups, a box wrapped in green paper and shoved in between some bowls, and a truly astonishing number of novelty cake tins, Ajax found the salt in the back of a skinny cabinet over the sink, behind little jars of  spices and packets of Sazon. The rice only needed a little bit, and then it was almost done cooking so she took the lid off and turned down the heat. 

Ajax stood there in the kitchen for about as long as she could bear (about five minutes) poked her head out to the living room again, decided that was way too many people to reasonably ask her to talk to - related to Rembrandt or no - and went back to poking her nose where it didn’t belong. There was pork roasting in the oven, flan chilling in the fridge, and a box full of delicately iced gingerbread on the far side of the kitchen, shoved all the way to the back beneath the cabinets. The shelf above the fridge had a murky jar of what Ajax’s investigation revealed to be tamarind rum. She put it back (respectfully) and then (disrespectfully) immediately regretted it. 

Just as boredom got the better of Ajax and she’d started eating one of the gingerbread cookies (good. chewy.) Dora came back into the kitchen, at a more normal pace and wearing a tinsel-adorned headband she hadn’t been wearing last time. When she saw Ajax, caught, still holding the box of cookies, she laughed. 

“Oh, by all means,” she said. “They’re just in here hiding from the little ones.”

She pulled Ajax into a brief but warm embrace. “Here! Here,” she said, “I’m being a bad host. Let’s get you a drink and then you can tell me everything you’ve been up to. That girl of yours always leaves stuff out when I ask.”

Dora poured them both glasses of coquito from a pitcher in the fridge and settled against the counter. Ajax didn’t really mean to tell her everything. Just a few things, so she’d be satisfied. But Dora had eyes that crinkled up like she was smiling even when she wasn’t and she just sat and listened and nodded and never acted like she wished Ajax would stop talking. So Ajax told her that Cleon was making Swan get her GED, and that Cochise was using her GI bill money to take night classes at the community college with her so she wouldn’t be alone. Rembrandt was growing an apple tree in their bedroom window from a seed she’d found already sprouting in an apple one day, and it had five happy little green leaves, but Ajax was worried the cold wasn’t good for it. Ajax had left Cleon’s present at her apartment with Swan a few days ago and the suspense of not knowing how she’d react was killing her. Cowgirl had been planning a New Year’s party with the other girls from the bar for weeks now and Ajax was already dreading the hangover. She’d told the fish guy at the grocery store that Dora said hi and thanks for the shrimp he’d saved for them last month. There was a new girl hanging around their corner, and Cleon and Cochise were already having tense conversations in the corner about what to do if she wanted into the crew. And when Ajax ran out of life to recount, Dora told her about the kids in her class, and the latest gossip from the staff room, and how Rembrandt had loved Christmas when she was young. 

- - - 

Eventually, Dora was called away, and Ajax was alone again in the kitchen to give an occasional stir to the food on the stove and stare down the pork to keep it from burning. She was so enmeshed in her staring contest with the oven she didn’t notice the patter of little feet on linoleum until they were right next to her. 

She startled as a very tiny hand reached out to pat her on the thigh. “Bwah,” said a small voice confidently.

Ajax blinked down at the small child, who was looking back up at her with apparently Rembrandt-family-trademark owlish brown eyes. Jesus, but she was tiny. Ajax had forgotten kids could be that small. She put down her glass of coquito and crouch down to be nearer to the kid’s eyeline. 

“Hey, what’re you up to?” she said, softly.

“Bah!” The kid said proudly, and then giggled like this was a favorite joke of hers. “Hiiiiii. Merry- Merry Christmas!”

Only, the kid couldn’t have been more than two, so it was more like “Mewwy Kimmus.”

“Merry Christmas yourself,” Ajax replied. The kid giggled at her again. God, even her smile looked like Rembrandt’s, on the rare occasions that Rembrandt forgot herself enough to really smile. “I’m Ajax. I like your shoes.”

The kid positively beamed at that, stamping her feet in her silly little decorative kid shoes. “I’m Isa. I like your jacket. It’s shiny.”

“Hi, Isa. I think you probably got someone out there you gotta go back to,” Ajax said, standing up and leaning over to look out the door the kid had come through for any following adults. 

Isa shook her head so hard it looked like she might tumble over. “No, no, no,” she insisted, “staying!” 

She made the universal gesture at Ajax that she wanted to be picked up. Ajax looked down at her, bemused. There were only a few social rules that weren’t lost on Ajax, but one of them was “don’t go around picking up strange children.” 

Seeing that her grabby hands weren’t having the desired result, Isa arranged her face into a forlorn pout of absolute bereftness. Fuck. Ran in the fucking family. Ajax should never have agreed to this. She was fucking outnumbered. 

“Motherfucker,” Ajax swore, bending down to pick her up. She held her out at arm’s length for a moment. “Don’t tell anyone I said that.”

Isa shook her head, eyes wide, and then nodded, like she couldn’t figure out which one meant she agreed. Ajax glared at her for another second before deciding “motherfucker” was probably too many syllables for her to pronounce. She settled Isa comfortably onto her hip , where she immediately began pointing around the room at where she wanted Ajax to take her. 

“Hey, slow down,” Ajax complained, “If you wanna walk around so much you can do it yourself.”

She did, however, acquiesce to Isa’s frantic gesturing at the pot of rice, and gave her a spoonful once she’d blown on it enough that she was reasonably sure Isa wouldn’t burn herself. The kid wriggled happily in her arms. Ajax, who had been five percent responsible for said rice, allowed herself a little glow of pride. 

Suddenly, it all felt very familiar. Ajax was gripped by the sense-memory of another her in another time, another kitchen, another baby in her arms. Her chest ached with it, all of a sudden, like an old bruise. She always thought she’d grown around it, until a new shift brought it back to the surface. A new wave of grief for a thing that had never really been hers to lose. 

Isa patted her on the neck, little-kid clumsiness making it more of a smack than a gentle nudge. “You look sad,” she observed. Ajax laughed. 

“Have a cookie?” she was pointing to the box of gingerbread, where Ajax had failed to re-hide it. “And then I have a cookie also.”

“Very slick, kid,” Ajax said. She looked back at the door. Coast still clear. There didn’t seem to be any tak of having dinner soon.  “Sure, we can have cookies.” 

- - - 

Isa was still gnawing on her cookie when someone came looking for her. He was a bookish-looking man, with his shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows and a kind of restless nervousness to him that Ajax recognized. 

“Oh, there you are Isa,” he said with no small amount of relief. “I hope she hasn’t been bothering you. She’s not really afraid of strangers.”

“I noticed,” Ajax said, amused. “Sorry, I don’t know if she was supposed to have cookies.”

He sighed the heavy sigh of a young parent during the holiday season. “One more won’t kill her,” he admitted. “Come on, Isa, you’ve gotta go back with Mom.”

Isa squawked and clung to Ajax, shaking her head. “No!” she protested, “We were havin’ fun.”

“Were we? And here I thought I might be boring you.”

Isa giggled. “Nooo, you’re not boring.” Now that someone knew where she was, however, she seemed less interested in the kitchen. She patted Ajax on the arm and started wriggling to be put down. Ajax lowered her to the floor and she tottered off into the living room, where her arrival was greeted by a chorus of “Hello, Isa!”s. 

Had that ever been Ajax? Had a roomful of people ever been happy to see her? Ajax didn’t know. She couldn’t remember ever being that small. 

The man extended his hand to shake. “I’m David,” he said, “I really am sorry about her. She just loves meeting people.”

“No problem, man.” David. Ajax had heard about David. He was Rembrandt’s boy cousin, the one whose clothes she had been wearing when they met. 

David smiled, looking like his mom. “You must be Ajax. Mami said you were in here helping with the food. I can’t totally blame you.”

Ajax was instinctively wary of people who knew who she was when she hadn’t met them, even though she also already knew about David. But she felt the weight of his knowing much more heavily. There was more for him to know. But Dora knew, and Dora had still invited her. She couldn’t quite hide her apprehension from him, apparently, because he laughed. 

“No, God, it’s fine, we haven’t been gossiping about you. Well, maybe a little. It’s just exciting, you know, to have someone new around.” He rolled his eyes. “Everything’s a holiday. We get sick of each other.”

Ajax remembered getting sick of her family. She had come up with a different solution. She tried to smile like she understood. 

“Listen, while I’ve got you.” David reached out and grabbed her by the wrist. Ajax, as a Christmas present to Rembrandt, did not flip him around and pin him up against the cabinets, even though it would have been very easy. He had a look in his eyes like he was just trying to be sincere, so Ajax just held her breath. 

“I just wanted to say thank you,” he said, and God, he was sincere, wasn’t he? Even the other Warriors never thanked Ajax like that. “That summer with Vallie… It was bad. We were all- I was really worried about her. It means a lot, to know she wasn’t alone. That someone was looking out for her.”

He squeezed her arm briefly, and then released her to grab a gingerbread and follow his daughter back into the living room. He was wrong. Ajax wanted to yell after him, or scream into a pillow. If he was worried about Rembrandt he should’ve been there for her, everyone in this house should’ve. The fuck was he doing thanking Ajax? That Ajax was the person who had stepped in was the problem. Rembrandt never should have needed her in the first place. But he was gone already, so Ajax couldn’t say any of that. She just poured herself another drink. 

- - - 

Dora came in a while later to find Ajax silently staring out the window. It had started to snow, in tiny little clumps that would soak through her boots on the way home but glowed under the streetlights. 

“Dinnertime,” she announced, sounding a little worn out but still cheery. “Come, help me set the table.” 

There was a pretty young blonde woman helping with the table, too. She introduced herself as Sarah. Ajax remembered from the Christmas card that this made her Isa’s mom. When Dora left to herd the others into the dining room, Sarah smiled at her in a way that Ajax was beginning to recognize as the harbinger of small talk that she was wholly unprepared for. At the very least, Sarah had a perfectly normal smile and perfectly unremarkable blue eyes. Her smile was tired, but it had an air of camaraderie to it. 

“First time, huh?” she joked. 

Ajax shrugged. 

“I remember the first year I came to Christmas here,” Sarah said wistfully. “David always offers to have Christmas with my family, but Easter with them is more than enough, trust me.”

She chuckled to herself. “It’s good you’re here,” she said more seriously. “Last year the kids’ table was just me and David and Isa. Can you imagine?”

Ajax did laugh at that, relaxing a fraction. The others were starting to trickle in. Ajax kept looking at the door for Rembrandt, even as Sarah pointed out to her which one her place was (true to form, at what Dora exasperatedly insisted wasn’t, and yet clearly was, the kids’ table). Rembrandt came in a little late from the door that led to the kitchen, wiping her eyes on the backs of her hands. Ajax looked at her in concern but Rembrandt shook her head before she could say anything. 

“It’s fine,” she murmured under her breath. Ajax frowned at her, but Rembrandt just smiled and, well, she actually did look alright. She didn’t look the way she did when she was shoving everything down. She looked more relaxed than she had in weeks. 

The food was very good. Ajax had spoiled that particular surprise, and also her appetite, by hiding in the kitchen and snacking for the whole party, but it was nice to watch everyone else coo in excitement. 

Rembrandt joked comfortably with David, giving Ajax a glimpse into a past life they’d shared as the babies of the family. Sarah seemed to like Rembrandt immediately, and they continued a conversation they’d apparently gotten distracted from, in which they were discussing with utmost seriousness the virtues of various colors of bedroom paint. Ajax looked up from this conversation in helpless confusion only to find that David was already looking at her with a similar expression. This solidarity warmed and reassured her enough to continue to listen to Sarah’s monologue on periwinkle vs. lavender vs lilac and how people all over the world were doing themselves a disservice by mixing them up. 

- - -

By the time they were leaving Ajax had mostly forgotten to be excited. They lingered by the door a while, as had every guest to leave before them. David and Sarah, who were spending the night, came to the door to see them off. Dora waved to them from the sofa, where Isa was sleeping half-sprawled over her thigh. 

“Oh!” Sarah said in a stage whisper. “I almost forgot!”

She went over to the tree and picked up a plain brown paper bag and brought it to Ajax. “Here, this one’s for you guys. I was going to say to open it tomorrow, but it’s so cold out there you’d better open it now.”

“You really didn’t have to-” Rembrandt started.

“No, no!” Sarah insisted. “It’s my hobby, it’s no trouble at all!”

Inside the bag was a long, simple knitted scarf and a pair of wrist warmers knit in the same rich, deep blue yarn. 

“Oh,” Rembrandt said softly, “It’s like the sky.”

“Yes!” Sarah whisper-cheered. “See, David, I told you. He thinks they’re black.”

David sighed the sigh of a man who had lost this argument several times already.

Sarah drew Rembrandt into a quick hug. David, to Ajax’s immense relief, just clapped her on the shoulder. 

“Stay safe out there,” he said. 

Rembrandt was careful to close the door quietly behind them. She reached up to wrap the scarf around Ajax’s neck, adjusting it until it was even. “Okay,” she said, mostly to herself, “Okay, let’s go home.”

They were quiet on the walk back to the bus stop. Rembrandt let her stay quiet until they were on the bus. 

“Hey,” she said, nudging Ajax with her elbow. “You’re thinking about something.”

And Ajax really didn’t mean to tell her everything. She meant to open her mouth and say that she was fine, just tired. But there was Rembrandt, a little bit sad and a little bit confused, and so what Ajax really said was, “You know I don’t have a family, right?”

Rembrandt blinked, frown deepening. But, Ajax discovered, she wasn’t done.

“It’s just you. You’ve got all these people who care about you. And I’ve just got you.”

Rembrandt considered this for a while. “You’ve got Cleon and Swan,” she said finally. 

“No, don’t give me that ‘we’re not a crew, we’re family’ bullshit-”

“Did I say that?” Rembrandt glared at her, “I said Cleon and Swan. They care. They miss you. I told Cleon I was taking you before I told you.”

“That’s- oh. Hm.” Ajax had to sit on that one for a bit. “It’s not the same.”

“No,” Rembrandt agreed, “It’s not. But for what it’s worth, I’m really fucking grateful I have you guys.”

“I don’t see why,” Ajax muttered, “We’re together because we have to be. Nobody else wants us. People want you.”

Rembrandt sighed. As the air left her, she seemed to shrink a little bit. “My parents are getting divorced,” she said conversationally. 

“Oh.”

“Mhmm,” Rembrandt agreed. 

“Did you… know?”

Rembrandt made a non-committal sound. “Dora called me, after she sent the card. She said I should come, because my mom wouldn’t be there. So. You know. I suspected. But my dad wanted to tell me himself.”

Ajax sat back in her seat. “I’m… sorry?”

Rembrandt shrugged. “I… don’t think I am. I don’t know. I haven’t decided yet.”

Ajax nodded. She didn’t really know what to say to that. They sat in silence for a few minutes. 

“Ajax?” Rembrandt said suddenly.

“Mmyeah?”

“What would you do if my mom showed up at our apartment?”

“Um,” Ajax said. This felt like a trap. Rembrandt was looking at her with complete earnestness. Ajax was shit at lying. “...probably get the cops called on me.”

Rembrandt closed her eyes, nodding to herself. She exhaled. “Every single person in that house,” she said, “Any one of them would have taken me in. And when my mom knocked on their door, they would have let her in. They would have let her drag me home.”

She breathed out again, shakier this time. “They love me, sure. But they wouldn’t have protected me. Not like you did. Not like you do.”

When she spoke next her voice was much quieter. “I know you think I don’t need you,” she said, “But I do. I really, really do.”

“Okay,” Ajax said. She put her arm out so Rembrandt could tuck up under it and nestle into her side. Rembrandt put her head on Ajax’s shoulder.

“Okay.”

[ragingadhd]

Will and Alyss are trans here’s my essay

We talk a lot about how funny it is that Flanagan unintentionally wrote the gayest love story between Halt and Crowley in TEY, but holy shit we don’t talk enough about how he also managed to accidentally write the two most trans characters ever.

Alyss and Will being trans is a semi-popular headcanon that’s been in the fandom for ages now, but I haven’t seen many people really dive into why this headcanon is so prevalent. I think that partially has to do with the fact that, like any lgbtq+ identity, it’s pretty difficult to clock someone as trans without relying on trans stereotypes. Really, any character in the RA series could be trans if you chose to believe it since being trans doesn’t look any certain way. That being said, I do think there are some pretty clear qualities and experiences that Will and Alyss have that feel very close to my own experience with being transgender.

Physical appearance is usually the first thing people point out/notice when talking about this headcanon. Will is short, more so than one might expect from a cis man. Alyss is taller than most men and also has a deep voice. I have mixed feelings about people pointing to this as the only reason they think they’re trans. I mean, it makes enough sense for it to be the only reason since one part of being trans is the fact that one’s body doesn’t match their gender identity. What I don’t like about that being the only reason is that there’s so much more to the trans identity and experience than “body don’t match :(“

But that’s the cool thing about Will and Alyss, their physical appearance effects their perception of themselves the same way it does for a trans person (or a cis person really, but it feels much more prevalent in trans people). In the first book, Will is clearly uncomfortable with his height; almost any time it’s brought up, he replies with “I haven’t had my growth spurt yet”, almost defensively. Then, as Will becomes more comfortable with who he is, you can see it bother him less and less. I love this bc it’s exactly what happened with my dysphoria as I transitioned. The more I got to know myself and discover myself, the less my dysphoria bothered me.

As for Alyss, she is so clearly so confident with her appearance. She never tries to hide her height or voice. Although we don’t get to see her journey with those qualities, the way she’s so confident feels like something the earned. It’s something she maybe used to feel insecure about, then decided she gets to decide what femininity means to her. Her height and voice contribute to her elegance and femininity rather than contradict them.

Another thing about Will is his name and how it relates to his identity. I know Flanagan didn’t intend for any of this to be some trans allegory, but goddamn can I relate my trans experience to it. Will grew up without a last name, and you can see how deeply that effects him. It wasn’t just that he was “Will no-name”, he was missing a part of his identity. Hell, he said verbatim “at least you know who you are” to a fucking owl because he felt so confused and unheard (which btw is the most edgy teen thing he ever did).

Though you can see this missing part of his identity bother him less as he gained a support system, it’s still clear that he felt like something was missing. If he didn’t feel like something was missing, he wouldn’t have been so incredibly happy when he became “Will Treaty”. And when he got his last name, you can tell he’s proud, not because he finally has an identity, but because he finally has a name to match the identity he’s spent so long discovering and cultivating. He no longer expresses any sadness or grief that he doesn’t have his father’s last name, because he doesn’t need it to know who he is. He’s Will Treaty, and he’s perfectly happy with being exactly that. This is the most trans-coded naming experience holy shit.

Anyway that’s all I have to say about this (for now at least). Go give your local trans friend a kiss.

[oph3liatlou]

Could you write an angsty Joel Miller x wife!reader were they have an argument and it's all abgsty and Joel yells at her and says mean things that make the reader cry and lock herself away. His words just break her completely emotionally like she'll become just a shell of herself for the next days or week and does nothing only stares out the window quietly and in thought and doesn't speak a single thing to Joel.

Make him see all this change in behavior of the reader and suffer and cry for making reader so sad.

Sorry English is not my first language but please make a happy ending 🙏🏽

— O’ CHILDREN

pairing(s); angry!joel miller x hurt/wife!female reader

wordcount; 1.2k words

warnings; angst, arguing/yelling, emotional breakdown!reader, mention of kids, swearing, happy ending.

proofread?; yess

note from author; first fix of the year, has to be MY HUSBAND!!!! & the accent makes me weak in my knees EVERYTIME!!!!

summary; you want to add to your future with joel but, he’s afraid to take that step. The possibility of losing someone else hurts too much.

You and Joel had been sitting on the couch, snuggling and watching a movie - something of which you couldn't remember the name. The past few weeks were rather difficult, you two had been talking about having children. Joel was 100% against the idea, and it was frustrating you that there was no communication. You stood from the couch to get a glass of water - hoping that would distract your thoughts.

Joel sat up immediately, causing the remote to fall off the couch. He groaned when he picked it back up to set it on the couches armrest. “Ar’ you alright darlin’?” He asked, with genuine concern. You took a sip of your water to calm yourself down. Your thoughts had been racing with the topic of children, you knew you wanted them - even in the apocalypse. But you also knew where Joel stood with that idea. You didn't want to start an argument but - you didn't want to lie to him either, when answering his question. “Not really.”

Joel sighed gently and got up to walk into the kitchen. He furrowed his brow and placed his hands on your shoulders gently. “What’s wrong?” He asked. You look up at him, shaking your head. “It’s going to start an argument.” You firmly stated.

Joel sighed softly, knowing the answer before you even said it. “It’s the kids thin’ again, isn't it?” You scoffed looking at him. His reaction wasn't handled well. “You say that like it's a bad thing.” Joel rolled his eyes. “It’ really that hard for you t’ understan’? We're not in a good enoug’ situation to have ‘em.”

You laughed, in more of a sarcastic way than intended. “We're never going to be in a good situation. Is that too hard for you to understand?” You mocked him, out of anger. Joel scowled at you, as you could feel his anger rising. You were pushing his buttons. “Don’t you dare get smart with me. Ya know damn’ well I'm right.”

You shake you're head at him again. “Well, I'm so sorry that I wanted to have a conversation about our future.” You moved past him towards the couch again. “Our future don’t involve kids.” He spat out. He had given no wiggle room, no room for you to even argue your point. “What ar’ we gonna’ do? Have a baby, fight infected an’ then take it t’ daycare?” He mocked you. “Gimme’ a break.”

You clenched your jaw as you got back off the couch, as quickly as you had sat on it mere seconds before. You turned on your heel, with tears fighting to fall. You weren't even mad about not having a baby - you were mad that he wouldn't even try to talk to you calmly about the situation . “I’m going to bed.”

“Fine.” He said, not even turning to face you. “You wanna keep bitchin’ and moanin’ - pushin’ everythin’ to the edge like you always do. Fine. Go sleep it off.” He was fed up with the conversation and he made it bluntly obvious. You glared at him on the stairs, tears now spilling. “Are you fucking kidding me?” You muttered and walked up the stairs, shutting the bedroom door. Joel flopped onto the couch with a loud sigh, his face buried in his hands. He felt like a real ass for making you upset, but he didn't want to make the concession of saying so. He kept himself occupied with his thoughts, the guilt eating at his gut.

You slammed the door as tears fell from your eyes, you threw one of the pillows from your shared bed at the wall. Joel rubbed his temples as he heard you slam the door slam shut. He knew he should go talk to you, make things right…but maybe he should just let it blow over? The seemed like the better option.

︒✯⋅

You had been locked away in your bedroom for the night, and even part of the next morning - the only time you went downstairs, was to get food. Joel was up early, and the coffee he brewed was filling the house with the a pungent scent. He waited patiently for you to walk in the kitchen, if you would even come downstairs.

You hadn't slept that night, not after the arguing. You made your way downstairs, having smelt the coffee from the comfort of your warm bed. Your eyes were bloodshot and tear stained when you shuffled into the kitchen to grab your mug. You didn't say a word.

Joel looked at you, his hazel eyes trying to find yours. His expression was stoic, giving you no hint of his thoughts. But you could tell that he was feeling guilty. “Didn’t sleep well?” he asked, taking a sip of his own coffee. You poured your own coffee in silence.

Joel noticed you didn't respond, not that he expected less. “I was kinda a dick last night, wasn't I?” You still didn't respond as you turned to lean your waist on the counter. “I should've acted mor’ maturely. I was jus’ frustrated, is all.” Joel said, hoping that you would say something…anything.

You looked at him over your mug. “I'm not even upset with the fact that you don't want kids,” you started. “I'm upset that you don't communicate calmly with me.”

Joel sighed, not wanting to admit his fault. “Maybe I have a temper I should work on.” He paused. “It’s jus’ that ya won't let it go.”

You took a moment to collect your thoughts before speaking. “I'm sorry for pushing it.” You added. “I just want to experience a normal life with you - something we don't have often.” You put your mug down behind you and stepped forward. “I love you, you know?”

Joel couldn't help but smile at that. You loved him, and he loved you. “I know ya do, I love ya too.” He walked over to you, wrapping his arms around your body and pulling you against him. You sighed into his chest. Your eyes were still red and puffy from a night of crying, but being in Joel’s arms again made you feel calmer. “No kids then?” You tried to joke lightly.

Joel laughed softly, rubbing your back. “No kids.” He kissed your forehead, then spoke again. “Besides - what makes ya think we'd be good parents? Can hardly cook a decent dinner.” This comment made you chuckle, and you needed one after the night you had. “You’re the one eating all the ravioli cans.” You teased before yawning, the lack of sleep catching up to you.

He laughed, looking at you softly. “Ya should get some sleep, ya look like hell.”

You rolled your eyes playfully at him. “And here I thought you'd tell me how beautiful I am - at least after an argument.” You wrapped your arms around him and kissed his cheek. “Let’s both go to sleep, the couch must've been uncomfortable.”

Joel chuckled again, taking your comment as the teasing it was. “Sorry, but ya look like a mess.” He teased, caressing your face lovingly. He took hold of your hand and led you up the stairs to your shared room - falling right on the bed next to you.

read my merged works here!

[envyenvys]

The thing about stobin is that they only work as well as they do because Robin was originally supposed to be Steve’s love interest, rather than in spite of it.

Like, what do we love about them?

They’re each other’s best friend

They’re incredibly co-dependent

They can basically read each other’s minds

They’re together so often that you can essentially treat them as one entity

They have genuine moments of emotion

These are all things that are par for the course when it comes to writing romantic relationships. You see it with Jon and Nancy (though not quite to the same level, they don’t have the Stobin Mind Meld) where they’re also each other’s best and only friend, and they also do almost everything together, and most of their genuine moments of emotion are with each other or with family.

Stobin don’t have any family or friends, because Steve’s family just doesn’t exist for some reason, and Robin was introduced to fill his empty friend slot after the stoncy divorce. Robin doesn’t have any either, because why would they flesh out a backstory for Steve’s New Girlfriend when they need to spend all their screentime establishing a believable romance?

So what we end up with is the bones of a romance that they have to hastily cover with the skin of a friendship, and they’ve already laid all that groundwork so they can’t exactly start backpedaling now.

That’s why stobin are mostly comic relief when they’re allowed to be together in s4 btw, they genuinely don’t know what to do with them now bc they didn’t intend for their relationship to be platonic (surely there’s no interesting room for growth in a close platonic relationship, that would be silly). Steve still doesn’t have a love interest, which is catastrophic for a fan favourite main character (bc amatonormativity dictates that being single is a Bad Ending and they can’t give him a Bad Ending, he can’t be punished by the narrative when he’s supposed to be finished his redemption arc) which is why he was shoehorned back with Nancy (bc they didn’t have the space to add another character just to be his love interest). (Robin gets a hint of Vickie bc denying their only explicitly canon gay character a ‘happy ending’ (read: romantic relationship) is also Very Bad, both narratively and optics-wise)

Basically, if they’d started out with the intention of making Robin Steve’s friend rather than his girlfriend, well, for one she wouldn’t exist. But secondly they’d be a lot less close than they are now. They’d be more like what we see in s4: a comedy duo, except without the same level of emotion and intimacy behind all their interactions. They literally wouldn’t have been allowed to get that close, because the number one spot in Steve’s life would’ve been reserved for his girlfriend, because again: amatonormativity dictates your romantic partner is your first priority and your most important relationship. Robin got that spot through a miracle and some gay trickery, and I for one will always be grateful.

I’m probably not the first person to mention any of this, but I’ve been thinking a lot about platonic relationships in media recently, and a lot about stobin specifically. It’s kind of sad that one of the best examples of a close platonic relationship I can think of is just a romantic relationship in a wig, but I’ll take what I can get (and god I love them anyway).

[akiumzeno]

A Dive Into Ushirono Fuyu's Relationships

I intend this to be a character analysis but I was thinking of this while on the bus and going ice skating and got really passionate that I had to write down the words. If you already can't tell from my pfp and banner, I love Fuyu so I made him his own dedicated analysis because he's the best.

ZENO remake and ZENO daily life SPOILERS

Fuyu and Maeno's relationship

Well, the most dominant thing about Fuyu and Maeno's dynamic is the revenge part. All throughout the game, Fuyu is chasing Maeno (and Tsugino) down to kill him. And his additional part in the story is about redefining that revenge.

And well, it's understandable; Maeno ate his sister. Granted, he didn't want to and was forced into it but Fuyu had no way to know that. How could you forgive someone who did something who did so atrocious?

But... there's something to be discussed about that.

Fuyu didn't see the event happen. One day, Maeno and Natsu both went missing. It was strange. How could both of the people he cared about just disappear without a trace?

So he set out to find out (or even better, Maeno and Natsu). And he did. After years, he finally found Maeno... but not Natsu.

And likely, that's when the awful truth came out. Natsu died because Maeno cannibalized her. And it's likely when he found out, he gained ZENO and was determined to kill Maeno in revenge.

Fuyu got hired as a researcher/doctor and tried to hide his ZENO and suppress his ZENO (likely through treating himself with the Memory Control Device). (Also, one of the doctors had a feeling he had ZENO).

And he waited for the perfect opportunity to get his revenge (which we all knows that opportunity comes).

Although Fuyu wants to kill Maeno and will never forgive him for what he did, that doesn't mean he hates him. In fact, he cares for Maeno. And you can see this in different endings.

Fuyu begs Maeno to not leave him in the Oblivion ending, Fuyu seems shocked or concerned when Maeno dies in the punishment ending and, hell, even Fuyu chooses to help out Maeno and work with him rather than leave him alone to die by Tsugino and get his revenge. He could completely just not choose to help him and escape the facility on his own and there would be no problem but he can't because he still cares enough to try to help him.

Despite what Maeno did, Fuyu can't not care for Maeno. They had known each other since they were 4 years old. They've been together and sharing their lives together. They always had each other. And nothing will change that. Fuyu may not forgive him for what he did, but there will always be that part of him caring for Maeno.

And it's probably because he cares for Maeno is the reason why he wants to kill Maeno. The first reason is that ZENO makes you want to kill your loved ones. But it's because he cares that it's why it hurts so badly. It was his friend, of all people, to eat Natsu, let alone the friend he spent years trying to find. (Maybe his only friend.)

And it's also why he doesn't feel fulfilled when he kills Maeno. Because there's still a sense of emptiness after killing his friend. Sure, he might've gotten his revenge but there's still a hole of sadness and anger still inside fo him and he doesn't feel better from killing one of the only pieces of his left still left, after Kanrai destroys his workplace and all his friends are gone and the only family he has left are all shitty people. He loses the one good thing left in his life. And revenge is not a thing that'll make you feel happy for long, if at all.

Fuyu and his family

Fuyu's family. ...Yeah.

Hoo boy. Won't this be fun?

Uh, I'll get into Natsu first because I honestly cannot dissect much about Fuyu and Kanrai's relationship aside from what's in the wiki, the two English translation videos of ZENO daily life and TV Tropes.

So, Natsu is clearly one of the only people who is close to Fuyu (the other being Aki and later on Haruno, I believe). So a ton of Fuyu's prime motivations are hinged on Natsu since his and Maeno's relationship ranges from strained to enemies after Maeno eats Natsu.

Considering Kanrai's just... garbage personality and Ritsuka deciding to be a free woman over taking care of her children, Fuyu had to be the one to take care of Natsu bc they have about a 10-year age gap, whether it be just giving her a father figure or straight-up defending Natsu from danger. (Also, second thought, Fuyu also had to take care of Maeno considering he was home alone at 4 and all Maeno would want to do was just stay inside and read books all day. Bro's fr a single dad since childhood.)

With this in mind, it's very easy to understand why Fuyu is so protective of Natsu. She quite literally had no one else to look up to, aside from Maeno. He was her one and only protector and they shared a relationship that was very close because of this. Hell, he even takes a stab for her.

And it's also hard to not love Natsu. She's sweet, polite, curious, cheerful and selfless. Aside from being her brother, her personality also made it easy for Fuyu to want to protect her.

So when she died, that must've left a hole in his heart. She was gone forever and he couldn't do anything about it, especially because he was the one who was always taking care of her. (And why it hurts so much that Maeno was the one to take her away.)

While we never explore Fuyu's grief (much) with Natsu in the game, we can very much assume he grieved for Natsu a lot. And the reason for his revenge was likely trying to fill up the hole in his heart. And Fuyu chases after that, thinking it would please or avenge Natsu, when we know that's not true.

And it takes talking with Natsu or seeing her memories to see that isn't what Natsu wants nor how he'll be able to heal.

And even though he did want revenge, he's more than willing to give it up or change way of revenge for Natsu. Because, no matter what, what she wants will always be priority because he loves her and always will. Nothing will change that, ever.

Now, the parents. They're so lovely.

Let's start with Ritsuka. Ritsuka never took care of Fuyu, only occasionally making contact and sending him fruit as a gift. She valued being free over being a good mother, likely because she felt adverse to it because she was told to do that her entire life. But of course, that is selfish as fuck.

Fuyu (and Natsu) grew up without a mother figure and he had to provide for himself (mostly, I believe Kanrai's secretary might've helped), which led to him being rude and blunt as he grew older. He never had anyone telling him to be a good person or had someone to take care of him, making him way more independent at a younger age than any normal kid, especially because he had to take care of Maeno and Natsu, as mentioned before.

While Ritsuka did end up gaining just a bit more concern for Fuyu after Natsu died (emphasis on bit) and tried to visit more frequently, but by then, the damage had already been done. Fuyu had already grown into his stern and cold self, and her actions were too little and too late.

Now, Kanrai.

Kanrai and Fuyu have anything but a loving and respectful relationship. Fuyu wants nothing to do with Kanrai and Kanrai is only concerned with Fuyu when he's able to be used as a tool for himself. But well, how did we get here?

Well, let's begin with how Fuyu was even conceived. As mentioned before, Ritsuka was told to be a wife and mother, and not only that but it was already decided who she'd marry, with that man being Kanrai. However, around the time they were getting married, Kanrai said to her that the only expectation of her was to bear one child and then she was free as a bird. She wasn't even expected to raise the child, just give birth to them.

But this begs the question of why Kanrai wanted a child, anyway. Did he want to be a father? Did he enjoy taking care of children? Maybe he just needed to continue his lineage.

Hah, NO!

He wanted a child... to try to spread ZENO.

He wanted to have the child develop ZENO and then have a person which he can influence under his own will to go do whatever he wants. And if that child never developed ZENO then he didn't care for them at all. How fun.

While I'm not sure if Fuyu knew he was even created for the sake for ZENO, but regardless, his father didn't pay attention to him. And it likely stayed that way until Natsu gained ZENO and Fuyu himself got involved with the issue, considering Kanrai does try to ask Maeno to tell Fuyu to call him back. And that probably frustrated Fuyu more with his father than his mother's neglect did.

For Fuyu, his father never bothered to take care of him until he got involved with this illness that Kanrai has based his entire, wicked and horrible, life on. To him, that likely felt like a slap in the face. He didn't care before and now he cares once he begins getting involved with ZENO; the disease that led to his sister's death because his best friend had ZENO and ate her because of it. Not to mention, Kanrai wants to spread that same disease.

And that's likely the reason why Fuyu refuses to return his calls and constantly says for Kanrai to die. He was created for the sake of ZENO, something that ruined his life and made his life just suck. No matter what, Fuyu could never live as a normal kid because Kanrai had set it up to be that way. If Fuyu had never gained or gotten involved with ZENO, his family had no desire to ever raise him and he meant practically nothing to them. And it probably hurt more for his family to exist and never take care of him rather than just never having one that was alive. His whole life was just doomed from the start and all he has to blame for it is Kanrai. Because it was Kanrai who wanted him to exist, not his mother.

Fuyu's life is the worst and it's his father that made it that way. Fuyu hates the circumstances that made him the way he is. The circumstances created by the horrid, vile, wretched, awful and evil Kanrai.