#and the general theme just hurts me in all the good ways

[that-ari-blogger]

Spiky (Beast Island)

My main thesis for She-Ra and the Princesses of Power is that it is a tragedy of repetition. The cycle of abuse, for example, is a big part of Catra’s dynamic with everyone around her. But that theme extends beyond the personal.

I’m talking about both symbolic and physical extensions here. The idea of abuse can be represented through the art and style of a story with coding and specific word choice. But it can also be shown off literally on a larger scale. That is where environment design comes in, and the scale of that is truly immense.

SPOILERS AHEAD: (She-Ra and the Princesses of Power)

Beast Island was a dumping ground for first ones tech, mostly weaponry, but also a variety of other tools and ideas. I will get back to some stuff in particular, but I feel the need to establish the baseline that this place just looks weird.

That’s the point with this episode, the environment is hostile by definition. You get that through the unfamiliarity of not knowing what the ground is and what is a tree, but you also get it from the fact that everything is spiky and gloopy. This place looks unsafe to be.

However, let’s go back to the theme for a moment, because I think it works really well here.

This place looks both organic and artificial. Like a single living thing that has had stuff done to it to mess it up.

The cycle of abuse is presented here as second hand. The first ones were at war and in their attempts to save themselves, they abused this island for all it was worth, turning it into a prickly version of itself that wards off intruders. That island in turn became a place to hold someone else’s baggage and turned that into weapons of its own. The island is hostile to everyone because of abuse being done to someone else that it got caught up in. That’s the cycle.

The key here is that I don’t think this place was decided upon because it was of particular importance. I think the opposite was true. The first ones needed a place to send their failed weapons and Beast Island was convenient and out of the way for them. They didn’t think about it, it didn’t matter.

Zooming out to the real world for a moment, that’s often how the cycle of abuse happens. It’s not about the person on the receiving end, the giver just needed to vent and was too caught up in themselves to notice that other people were getting hurt.

This is exactly Catra and Scorpia’s dynamic in the show. Catra is in pain, and Scorpia is a convenient scapegoat.

This can even be extrapolated further to the island’s inhabitants. The children of the second generation abuse victim. The creatures that grew to survive in harsh conditions by being harsh in their own right. They got angry, they got vicious, they started picking fights, passing that trauma on to someone else. Keeping the cycle going.

We meet King Micah in this episode, and he is utterly disconnected from reality. He doesn’t know how much time has passed, and he plays into that of the exile going mad and eating bugs. Seriously, I don’t know what this trope is called and it’s driving me nuts.

The point is, Micah has been in that world of someone else’s abuse for so long that he has no sense of reality. But hold on to this thought.

Daniel Dae Kim everybody. The line where he realises how long he's been gone is stellar and one of the best line reads in the entire series as far as I am concerned.

One of the key moments in this episode then is the depressive efforts of the source. The heart of the island, the place where all the pain is stored.

And the closer you get to this heart, the worse you get. It is a piece of technology that was designed to limit the hope of those around it, to make them want to give up. It’s not a weapon designed to win; it’s designed to subdue.

There are two ways to read this. The first is that maybe the First Ones weren’t the good guys if they had a weapon for subjugation just lying around. But the other plays back into this cycle idea.

What if this was a way that the first ones tried to save themselves, by replicating the techniques of their abuser. By reflecting back that all is lost and they should just give up. But it failed.

But a weapon, once loaded, will always be used, eventually. That latent malice and energy went somewhere, specifically here. Once again, it was convenient, but it is a potent symbol of becoming exactly the kind of person who oppressed you.

Notice however that this place does have one weakness, hope. The thing that can pull you out of the heart’s embrace is hope that things will get better. Essentially, the abuse can be stopped by pointing out that it is founded in nonsense, which leads me back to Micah.

Micah has survived to this point through determination to see his daughter again. He has stayed sane; he has had a will to survive. He has had somewhere beyond the abuse to anchor himself to. When he realises his wife has died (I know she’s technically still alive but come on), he loses that, and he loses his hope. Grief is a demotivator. It’s a kick up the ass, but it teaches you to avoid things rather than go and do them.

Which leads me back to the environment, and to the Pookas.

The Pookas have survived in this place. They are spiky and unpleasant, yes, but they have survived just as well as if not better than Micah, and they have done that together.

The Pookas wear their abuse like a badge of honour, and they don’t direct it at each other. They hunt in packs and don’t squabble, instead they are silent, watching.

There is a theme with every creature in this place appearing as something and then revealing it's other features and I think that's really cool. The bush suddenly has eyes, the spider crab has hands, and the Pookas have their weird mouths, but they show that off immediately. They are up front with how they operate. "I am weird, I am broken, this is my damage."

These are weird creatures and I think they are partly synthetic, but they own that. The Pookas break the cycle something savage, and they do it as a group.

Essentially, the Pookas are a support group. They are victims together who can take comfort in each other. They find food together and support each other.

It's not the best method, considering that they hunt people, but it is a step towards healing.

And, for that matter, this step towards healing applies to the rest of the island. This place is alive. There is stuff to eat, there is life growing. Nature gets better, eventually.

That’s the theme of the series. Abuse is cyclical, but those cycles can be broken. You find people to help you, you find a place that is far away from the abuse, you bear your scars for the world to see and you channel your anger in a healthy way.

Final Thoughts

This is a shorter post for two reasons. The first is that I don’t have much time during the week in which I am writing this, but the second is that I really don’t like this episode.

Don’t get me wrong, Daniel Dae Kim kills this role and should be a joy to watch, if the dialogue wasn’t weird and if the conflict surrounding his daughter didn’t come across as contrived and if the tone seemed in any way intentional. Add to that the fact that, until the final scene, the animation that looks like it was made for a different, much lower budget show (why does swift wind have human facial expressions? He’s a horse!), and I had a really bad time rewatching this episode.

So, I focused on stuff I did like. I thought the Pookas were weirdly cute, and I devised a post to talk about that. This blog exists so I can challenge myself to get better, and sometimes that means scratching out a thousand words about Pookas, and that’s ok.

Next week, however, is Destiny Part 1, so stick around if that interests you.

[rynbutt]

safe. | spencer reid.

You were pregnant but JJ had just left the team and they needed you. You hadn't told anyone; you hadn't even told Spencer.

my masterlist!

cw: fem!reader, pregnant!reader, guns, violence, mentions of murder, mentions of drugs (antidepressants and opioids), mentions of car accident, gunshot wounds, death of pregnant woman, general criminal minds themes.

wc: 6.2k

a/n: bruh this was a looooong one! dw some banging smut coming in the next one with post-prison reid >:3

now playing... Fare Well by Hozier

This was really starting to piss you off.

You fell to your knees as bile pushed up your throat, your skin paling as you vomited for the third time today. You tried to keep something, anything, down but you would just wind up curled in on yourself and sweating in the corner of the bathroom stall. You ate a couple of crackers and sipped on water to keep your empty stomach satiated– But you always ended up right back here on the bathroom floor with your head between your knees trying to will the pain away.

Emily noticed your pale complexion and how exhausted you looked, offering to get you some medicine or ask Hotch about sitting out of the next few cases. You told her you were fine, that it was just stress. That answer seemed to satisfy her enough, though she wasn’t fully convinced. To be fair, your workload had increased tenfold since JJ was forced to accept the job at the Pentagon, and you missed her terribly but you were proud of her. But you really could have used her advice right about now.

Because you swore this baby had it out for you.

You found out you were pregnant just over a week ago and you still hadn’t told Spencer. You were still wrapping your head around the whole thing because initially, you didn’t think you were pregnant, you just thought your body was dealing with the stress and workload in, frankly, a bizarre way. Hotch had wanted you to take over doing JJ’s job as communication liaison, which were rather important shoes to fill. He had total faith in your ability to do JJ’s job as well as do your own as a profiler, but you weren’t so sure anymore. 

You would tell Spencer when you were ready and right now was not a good time. Everyone was surviving on four hours of sleep a night, far too many cups of coffee and sheer willpower. The absolute last thing they needed was to lose another team member. So you soldiered on like a champion– a champion who still held her head over the bureau’s less than impressive toilet while she threw her guts up.

“Y/N?” You didn’t even hear the bathroom door open, the ringing rattling around your skull distracting you from your surroundings. Penelope’s heels clicked against the tiles as she cautiously peered around the wall of the last stall where you kneeled on the ground. “Oh my god, sweet thing! What’s wrong?”

“I’m fine, Pen,” your voice was hoarse when you finally replied. You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and tried to smooth your hair down, attempting to look at least semi-presentable before you left the bathroom to pretend everything was okay.

“No, no, my girl, you are not fine!” Penelope stood in behind you, pulling your hair out of your face as you vomited the last remnant of your soul into the toilet. “You need to talk to Hotch, you’ve got a bug or something, my dear. You shouldn’t even be at work when you’re this sick, let me talk to him for you and you just go home–”

“I’m not sick, Penelope!” You didn’t mean to shout at her, you really didn’t, you just felt awful and felt like a shell of yourself with how poorly you’d been sleeping and eating paired with all the stress of doing JJ’s job as well as your own. It was just a lot.

Penelope went quiet but stayed close to you, still holding your hair as you sat back on your heels, running your hands down your face. She let out a soft sigh, knowing you didn’t mean to shout at her. Penelope was stressed too– everyone was.

“I’m sorry, Pen,” you mumbled, your throat hurting from all the vomiting and coughing you’d managed to do today– it had to be a record honestly. 

Penelope just shook her head at you, reaching her hand out toward you, “you don’t have to apologise, sweet girl, I know you’ve got a lot on your plate.” You shook your head, you still felt bad and shouting at sweet Penelope was not the way to deal with all the emotions swirling around in your head.

“It’s not fair,” you replied as she helped you to your feet, gently guiding you over to the basin to help you clean yourself up. “You’re stressed too, I didn’t mean to yell.”

Penelope brushed some of your hair out of your face, her gaze narrowing as she watched you, waiting for you to tell her what was going on. It never came and she knew she would have to push you a little. Penelope thought it was necessary though because seeing you like this was awful and she couldn’t even imagine how Spencer would react if he knew how sick you were.

“What’s going on?” Penelope’s voice was soft; gentle, just trying to get you to talk so she could help. You were stubborn when it came to asking for help and by the time you did, you had hurt yourself more than necessary trying to solve it yourself. Not this time though– Penelope refused.

“I’m okay–” you looked at Penelope and she raised her brows at you, not accepting that answer in the slightest. You sighed, knowing this is a fight you wouldn’t win. “I’m pregnant.”

Penelope’s jaw nearly hit the floor. She knew something was up with you but pregnant? That was not on this year's bingo card. “What?? Y/N that’s–” she gauged your expression and she really couldn’t tell if you were upset or happy about being pregnant. She cut herself off before she finished her sentence, pulling her lips into a line. “Are we happy about this news or are we…?”

“We’re…” you were happy. Honestly, you were. You and Spencer had talked about having kids one day, ideally after you were married but that didn’t seem to be going to plan. You’d been with Spencer for three years, in the BAU for four, it’s not like your relationship was new or in the honeymoon phase, it just wasn’t the original plan and that scared the hell out of you. But you were happy to be carrying his child– the timing was just piss poor. “We’re happy… just scared.”

“Oh, baby,” Penelope cooed. “Of course you’re scared, it’s a huge adjustment. But I know you and I know Spencer, you guys will nail this parenting business.” Penelope managed to prove time and time again why she was your best friend. You often wondered if she knew you better than you knew yourself, which wouldn’t really surprise you given her job.

“I hope so.” You smiled softly, feeling somewhat human again after splashing water on your face and washing your hands. You knew Spencer would be a good dad, he was so good with kids and he was so gentle and patient with you. He was meant to be a dad. You just weren’t sure if you were meant to be a mother. You wanted to be a family with Spencer, it made you feel warm just thinking about it, but you were a person who worried about almost everything, even the things out of your control. What scared you was how in control you were. 

“I’m surprised Spencer hasn’t told everyone, that boy is obsessed with you and you’re making him a dad? God, it must be killing him sitting on this–” Penelope suddenly looked at you wide-eyed, connecting the dots all on her own. You winced as you watched her figure it out, gritting your teeth as she let out a soft gasp. “You haven’t told him?!”

You covered your face with your hands, letting out a muffled squeal of frustration into your palms. You would tell him eventually, just not right now, he was far too busy and was already stressing about his own workload, you couldn’t imagine how much more stressed he would be if he found out you were still in the field while pregnant.

“Pen, please,” you turned to her, “please keep this to yourself. I– We can’t deal with this right now. JJ’s gone and everyone is worked to the bone, I can’t do this to everyone right now, especially Spencer.” Penelope looked at you sympathetically, you knew you were asking a lot of her to keep it to herself, especially when Penelope wasn’t great at keeping secrets.

“Y/N, sweetie, you’re going to have to tell them eventually– You’re an FBI Agent. Being in the field is so dangerous and you don’t just have yourself to think about anymore.” You knew Penelope was right. You carried a gun around for Christ’s sake, you literally hunted down serial killers, active shooters, total psychopaths and everything in between. The field was no place for a pregnant woman. 

“I know, I know,” you sighed, resting both of your hands on the basin in front of you.

“...How far along are you?”

“Twelve weeks,” you said softly, resting your hand against your belly. You didn’t have much of a bump yet but you were sure it would sneak up on you before you even realised. Lucky for you, you wore a lot of baggy sweaters around the office so you had some wriggle room when it came to hiding it.

“...My money’s on a girl,” Penelope was trying to make you feel better. She really was helping because the idea of Spencer hosting tea parties, getting covered in kitten stickers and his hair being covered in tiny butterfly clips made your heart swell.

You let out a soft laugh, “I think so too.”

“Alright, my love, I think we should leave this bathroom before they send out a search party,” Penelope laughed, linking her arm with yours to guide you out of the bathroom. 

You honestly did feel better after talking to Penelope and throwing the rest of your guts up. She made sure to remind you about ten times to call her if you needed anything, you promised you would because it did make you feel better knowing that someone knew about your pregnancy and you didn’t have to bear the weight of the news alone.

You sat down at your desk with a sigh, sipping on your water bottle to soothe your raw throat. You popped a piece of gum in your mouth, willing the taste of bile away. You let out a huff of air as you stared down at all the paperwork you had to do. Doing JJ’s job proved to be intense, especially when you were doing your own work on top of her’s. You picked up your pen when you felt Spencer press a kiss to the crown of your head as he placed a mug of hot coffee on your desk in front of you.

You smiled, craning your neck to look up at him. Spencer took the opportunity to kiss you softly, one of his hands resting on the side of your desk while the other rested on the back of your chair. You smiled against his lips, “shouldn’t you be working?” You teased.

“Are you trying to get me to go away?” Spencer looked at you curiously. You rolled your eyes playfully because of course you didn’t want him to go away. If anything, you wanted him to pick you up and take you home right this second.

“Yes, Spencer,” you replied sarcastically, “I’m trying to get you to go away.” Spencer wasn’t great with sarcasm but he had come to understand your humour over the years. He just grinned and pressed another kiss to your lips.

“Sarcasm is rooted in truth, angel,” Spencer retorted with a gentle smile. 

“I am joking, but we both have a lot of work to do, Spence. I don’t know how I’m going to manage doing JJ’s job as well as my own,” you sighed, leaning back in your chair.

“There’s a reason Hotch wanted you to do it. I don’t think he could have picked anyone more capable,” Spencer replied. Maybe it was the hormones and the fact you were carrying a baby, but the comment made you want to cry. Spencer frowned as he watched your face fall, “what’s wrong, angel?”

“No, nothing,” You replied, sniffling quietly. You gave him a genuine smile, “I’m fine, Spence. I promise–”

“New case just came in,” Morgan called to the two of you, gesturing toward the meeting room at the back of the office with a manila folder in his hand. 

You looked at Morgan with a confused expression because now it was your job to decide what cases the team took after JJ’s departure. Morgan told you the case went straight to Hotch this time; an old friend had called in a favour. 

Spencer pulled a chair out for you, taking the seat right beside you in the meeting room. You opened the case file the moment Penelope dropped it in front of you.

“The victims are 20-year-old Evan Miller and 21-year-old Daniel Clark, both engineering students at Caltech. They were shot three days apart outside their family homes in the local area of Pasadena, California.” You followed along with Penelope as she gave a run down of the victims and the circumstances of their deaths.

The killings were straightforward, the UnSub didn’t try to dispose of the bodies and the men were simply shot in the head execution style. It didn’t seem like the doings of a serial killer who would usually seek some kind of sexual release from torturing and killing their victims. If anything, it seemed like revenge killings.

“They were just shot?” Emily questioned, eyebrows furrowed as she stared at the crime scene photos. 

“Once in the head,” Hotch replied, “there were no witnesses around which suggests the UnSub knew the routine of the victims and the neighbourhood.”

“Could be a stalker?” Penelope suggested.

“Stalker victims are usually the object of a stalker’s affection, they rarely act in violence let alone such a blunt killing,” You replied, confused by the nature of such a straightforward murder.

Spencer flicked through the victim’s files, “the single shot to the head suggests the UnSub just wanted them dead. No physical evidence of sexual release or torture… This could be some kind of revenge killing.”

“Did these victims know each other?” You asked.

“According to their parents, they came from the same friend group,” Penelope replied. 

“Wheels up in thirty. Garcia, you're coming with us. Get your go bag,” Hotch said, quickly standing up from his chair. Penelope made a small noise of surprise before quickly ushering out of the meeting room. Hotch didn’t usually have Penelope come along but given you were short a very valuable member of your team, Penelope had started coming along more often. Not that you would ever complain having Penelope around. 

You pinned up the last of the crime scene photos on the board, standing back with your hands on your hips. Spencer was writing on the whiteboard next to you, jotting down all the things you knew about the victims and possible motives of the UnSub. Hotch and Morgan were engaging in formalities with the local detectives on the case while Penelope got herself settled in the makeshift office they had set up for the team. 

“The parents of the victims are here,” Emily poked her head into the office. “Y/N, Hotch wants you to talk to Ben and Sarah Miller, I’ve got the Clarks.”

“Alright, I got it,” you replied, letting out a dejected sigh. 

“You okay?” Spencer gently tucked some of your hair behind your ear, turning his full attention to you. You let out another sigh, nodding your head tiredly. “You can do this,” he said quietly, his eyes shifting between yours.

“Yeah, I know,” you smiled softly. Spencer planted a soft kiss on your cheek before leaving the office, leaving Spencer and Penelope alone. 

“...I think she needs a break,” Penelope said after a beat. 

Spencer looked at her, eyebrows furrowed, “what makes you say that?”

Penelope tried to be as inconspicuous as possible, “she’s doing JJ’s job and her own. I mean, I think she’s the right girl for the job but… you know what she’s like.”

Spencer sighed, he knew exactly what you were like. You always held yourself and your work to such a high standard and you often overworked yourself to make everyone happy. “Yeah, I know. I’ll talk to her when we get back to the hotel.”

“I think that’s a great idea, lover boy,” Penelope grinned.

You opened the office door, files in hand. Mr and Mrs Miller immediately stood up as you entered and you gave them a sympathetic smile. Mrs Miller had clearly been crying, still clutching a tissue in her hand while her husband paced around the office.

“Please, have a seat, Mr Miller,” you said gently.

“I’ll stand,” he replied firmly. You decided not to argue and sat down on the chair opposite the couch where Mrs Miller sat.

“Mrs Miller, I’m Agent L/N, I’m with the Behavioural Analysis Unit in the FBI–”

“FBI?” She questioned. “Was Evan in trouble?”

“We suspect he and his friend Daniel were killed by the same person,” you explained. Mrs Miller let out a soft gasp, her hand coming to rest over her mouth. 

“Is it alright if I ask you a few questions about Evan?” You asked. Sarah didn’t say anything but she nodded her head, fresh tears forming in her eyes. “Daniel and Evan knew each other, right?”

“They went to high school together,” Sarah replied, her voice shaking. “They were so excited when they both got into Caltech,” she smiled sadly, fresh tears streaming down her face.

“Do you have any idea who killed our son?” Ben asked, his voice sounding angry.

“That’s what we’re here for,” you said, “we’re here to find who killed your son and why–”

“‘Why”?” Ben repeated, “he was just a kid.”

You sighed softly, “I understand that, sir. We’re just trying to figure out a possible connection.”

“Evan and Daniel were good kids. They would never hurt a fly,” Sarah frowned, sniffling softly as she began crying again. 

“Did Daniel and Evan hang around the same social groups?” You asked, turning your attention to Mr Miller, who was still pacing around the office with his arms crossed. “Maybe in some kind of extracurricular activities?”

“They were both on the college basketball team,” Ben said after a beat. “Why? You think this asshole is going to kill more of these kids?”

“I am just trying to get an idea of the social groups Evan and Daniel were a part of,” you didn’t want to get into the gory details of why you were asking such questions and decided they were both far too emotional for you to keep asking them questions; you would let Hotch handle it. “I need to speak with my team but I’ll be right outside if you need anything.” You rested a hand on Mrs Miller’s shoulder and you couldn’t shake how much you missed JJ doing this part.

You let out a sigh as you left the office, rubbing the tension in the back of your neck. You slowly walked over to Hotch, “Evan was on the Caltech Basketball team, he and Daniel went to high school together and Evan’s parents were adamant he was a good kid. I think he was a good kid, just got involved with the wrong people.”

Hotch let out a breath, “I want you and Prentiss to go to the school, talk to the faculty, basketball team coach, anything you can get.”

You nodded, gesturing to Emily on the other side of the bullpen. She firmly nodded at you and the two of you left for the school.

The team worked the case for two days before another body showed up. Everyone was starting early and finishing late to find the person who was doing this and you worked closely with the detectives and other officers on the case. Hotch gave the profile as soon as the team was certain but given the demographic of the suburban areas he was targeting these boys, it was rather unremarkable. The third body belonged to 21-year-old Oliver Marsh, another Caltech student studying Physics. He was shot once in the head while walking his dog no further than a block from his house. 

You stood in the middle of Oliver’s bedroom staring at the posters and certificates that littered his walls. Spencer rifled through papers on his desk, mostly finding papers related to physics journals and essays for school. Emily and David were downstairs talking to the parents while Hotch and Morgan went to see the crime scene.

You walked over to his bedside table pulling it open. There were a lot of birthday cards and a game boy but what caught your attention was the little clear yellow bottles with white caps. You lifted the first bottle out, reading the label–

“Oliver was taking Oxycodone,” you said softly, catching Spencer’s attention. “...And Escitalopram,” you spun on your heel, showing Spencer the two bottles. Spencer took the bottles from your hands, eyebrows furrowed as he carefully read the labels. “Chronic pain?” you suggested.

“Could be,” Spencer replied. “He could have been taking non-steroidal anti-inflammatories too, they’re typically over the counter.”

You rifled through the drawer again, pulling out a blue box, “Yeah, he was taking Ibuprofen too.”

“We should talk to the parents,” Spencer said. You nodded and the two of you ushered down the stairs to where his parents sat in the living room with David and Emily. “Was Oliver suffering from chronic pain?” Spencer quickly questioned before he even fully made it into the living room.

Oliver’s mother held a tissue to her nose, glancing at Emily with a confused expression. You put your hand on Spencer’s bicep, “Has Oliver injured himself recently? Maybe a fall or injury while playing sports?”

Oliver’s father shook his head, “No, not recently. He’s been on those antidepressants for a few years and takes the codeine when he has– had flare-ups.”

“Flare-ups?” David asked pointedly.

“He was in a car accident four years ago,” Mrs Marsh said, “He was in the passenger seat and was in a coma for two weeks… he hadn’t really been the same after that, got really sad and antisocial… he was in a lot of pain too.”

“He had to stop playing Football and running track, his body just couldn’t keep up,” Mr Marsh added, his eyes glazing over. “He lost a lot of friends, I don’t think I ever saw him hang out with anyone, Physics became everything to him.”

“Do you have evidence of his medical records anywhere?” Spencer asked. “Just so I can look them over.”

“Uh, yeah, of course,” Mrs Marsh stood up, Spencer following her to their home office on the other side of the house.

You sat down across from Mr Marsh, “The accident he was in,” you started, “what happened?”

He looked at you with a pain in his eyes, “He was in the car with some of his friends and they were driving home from a party and it was late. I think they were all…” he hesitated for a moment, “they were all drunk.”

“Who was in the car?” Emily asked, not liking where this was going.

“...Evan Miller and Daniel Clark,” his father began to cry, holding his hand over his mouth. You felt your eyes widen, this was a revenge killing.

“Who was driving, Mr Marsh?” David asked quickly.

“Um, god–” He sniffled softly, “Peter… Peter something, he was older than them, I really don’t remember.”

“Thank you, Mr Marsh,” You stood up, quickly moving to the front door to call Penelope. You pulled out your phone, dialling her number. She picked up after the first ring.

“How may I be of service, oh queen of my country?” she sang, her fingers typing furiously against her keyboard. 

“I need you to look into an accident for me, four years ago,” you said with your hand on your hip. “Oliver Marsh, Daniel Clark and Evan Miller were all in the accident too. See if you can find newspaper articles, news segments, anything– I think we know who the last target is.”

“Right, give me a moment,” Penelope replied. You heard her typing before she stopped, “Oh no…” she mumbled softly.

“What’s wrong, Pen?” You furrowed your brows.

“Peter Harvey,” Penelope sighed, “he’s the last boy… He was driving with three other high school boys; Oliver, Daniel and Evan when they struck an oncoming car and killed a pregnant woman on impact; her husband walked away without a scratch.”

“Shit.” You cursed, “What’s his name?”

“Jonathan Hughes, his wife was Katherine… she was 8 months pregnant, Y/N.” Penelope sounded so pained and you knew she was thinking of you and the small baby you were carrying. “Y/N…”

“I know, Pen… After this case wraps up… I’ll tell everyone,” you replied with a gentle sigh.

“And you’ll take time off?” Penelope sounded like she was lecturing you.

You smiled to yourself, “Yeah, Penelope. I’ll take some time off.”

“Okay… I’ll send Hotch and Morgan Jonathan’s last known address, I’m sending you Peter Harvey’s address–”

Your phone beeped as Penelope sent the address through. “Where would I be without you, Pen?”

“Nowhere good, my love,” you could hear the smile in her voice. You quickly hung up before walking back into the Marsh’s house. 

Emily and David turned to look at you, “We’ve got him.”

“Alright, you guys go, I’ll grab Reid and we’ll be right behind you,” David waved you off and Emily quickly ushered the two of you to the car. 

Emily was speeding toward the address Penelope had given you while you called Hotch and Morgan, filling them in on all the information Penelope had given you. They agreed to go to Jonathan’s address to hopefully intersect him before he left for Peter Harvey. You were always nervous when it came to these parts of the case because you couldn’t control the outcome no matter how hard you tried. A grieving man was going around killing these young men and while it was awful what he was doing; you could sympathise with him and the pain he was feeling over losing his wife and unborn child. 

You instinctively rested a hand over your belly, your thumb stroking the small curve. You couldn’t even imagine how much pain Spencer would be in if he lost you, let alone your child too. You would tell him and you would ask Hotch about taking some time off later in your pregnancy and sitting out of cases like this. 

“Shit he’s already here,” Emily cursed when she noticed Jonathan’s SUV parked a couple of blocks from Peter’s address. “Call Hotch.”

You dialled Hotch’s number and he picked up almost instantly, “What is it, L/N?”

“He’s already here, his SUV is parked a couple blocks down from Peter’s address. He’s already out looking for him,” You quickly said.

“We’re on our way, units are already on route,” he hung up after that. 

Emily pulled the car up on the gutter, the car skidding to a stop. You immediately pushed the door open, holding your gun by your thigh as you ran across the lawn to Peter Harvey’s house. You knocked on the door and a woman answered after a beat.

“Mrs Harvey?” You asked, panting softly.

“Yes?”

“Is your son Peter here?”

“No, he went to the store down the street an hour ago, he should be back soon… What is this about?” She asked, her hand gripping the door in concern.

“We believe someone dangerous may be looking for your son,” Emily said. Mrs Harvey rested her hand over her mouth, a soft gasp leaving her lips.

“Mom?” You spun around and Peter stood with a plastic bag of groceries in his hand in the middle of the lawn.

It all happened almost in slow motion. You saw a figure wearing dark clothes stalking across the lawn and without even thinking, you darted toward Peter as the UnSub pulled the gun out of his coat, aiming it straight at Peter’s head. You could hear Emily yelling at Mrs Harvey to go back inside before she pulled out her gun and aimed it at the UnSub; but it was too late.

You shoved Peter to the ground as he fired, feeling the shot burn through your shoulder as both you and Peter fell to the ground. You instinctively pressed a hand to your burning shoulder, warm blood oozing from the wound and through your fingers. 

“Jonathan Hughes?” You said, your breathing heavy as you tried to fight through the pain. He held his gun right in front of your face.

“Move,” he grunted, his eyes glassy.

“I know what happened to your wife,” you breathed trying to stall him as more police cars with blaring sirens pulled into the street.

“They killed her,” tears streamed down his face and you honestly felt bad for him. 

“It was an accident,” you replied softly.

“They were drunk,” he almost yelled, his hand shaking as his gun was still trained on you.

“I know,” you said, “It was a stupid mistake that haunted them, Jonathan. I know it doesn’t change what happened but these boys–”

“They’re monsters!” he shouted, hot tears streaming down his cheeks.

You saw David and Spencer get out of the car. Spencer’s heart was in his throat when he saw you kneeled on the ground, shielding Peter with your body while your hand and shirt were covered in your own blood. He didn’t even pick up his gun as he began stalking toward you.

“Y/N?” His voice was soft when he called you at first, then it turned to outright concern and anger, “Y/N? No, no!”

David grabbed Spencer’s arm, pulling him back as Spencer fought against him, trying to get to you. It was irrational and it was dangerous. David quickly picked up his walkie, “An agent has been shot, we need an ambulance.”

“Who was shot?!” Penelope’s voice rang out in the car as she spoke to Morgan and Hotch.

“I repeat, agent L/N is shot, we need an ambulance,” David spoke before putting his walkie away to hold Spencer back, pulling him to the ground.

“Morgan! Oh my god!” Penelope felt tears form in her eyes.

“It’s okay, babygirl, she’s going to be alright,” Morgan said, trying to reassure her as Hotch stepped on the accelerator. 

“No, Morgan, you don’t understand–”

“We’re going to get an ambulance–”

“She’s pregnant!” Penelope blurted out, not knowing what else to say for them to understand the gravity of why Penelope was so upset and concerned. 

Hotch hesitated for a moment, “She’s what?”

Penelope let out a shaky breath, “she’s twelve weeks pregnant, Hotch. She wasn’t going to tell anyone until after the case– and now she’s been shot.” Penelope began to cry, holding her hand over her mouth as tears slipped from her eyes.

Hotch hadn’t sped that fast since he found out Foyet was in his house. He cared about his team a lot and he had a soft spot for you even though he wouldn’t admit it. The tires skidded along the road as Hotch pulled on the handbrake, both him and Morgan training their guns on the UnSub as they approached.

Morgan’s heart hurt at the sight of you, your skin slightly paled as blood bloomed from your shoulder, drenching your arm and your hands. You looked so scared as the UnSub trained his gun on you, unmoving. Emily had her gun aimed at the UnSub, yelling for him to put it down.

“Jonathan Hughes!” Morgan’s voice caught your attention. “Put down the gun!”

“Don’t move!” Jonathan shouted, “I’ll shoot her!”

“No you won’t, man,” Morgan shook his head.

“How do you know that!? She’s in my way!” He shouted back.

“She’s pregnant,” Morgan sighed. Your eyes widened as you looked at Morgan, who looked back at you with a sad expression. 

Spencer stopped fighting against David, his breathing evening out as the words fell on his ears. You were pregnant. You were carrying his baby and you got shot and now you had a gun held up in front of your face. Spencer didn’t even realise he was crying, his tears cold against his warm skin. All he could do was watch, there was nothing he could do.

Jonathan glanced at you as you held your hand over your belly. “W-What?”

Morgan reached a hand out as he got closer. “Just like your wife, Jonathan… You wouldn’t kill a pregnant woman like those boys did.” 

Jonathan seemed to dissociate, staring at you with such a hurt expression as Morgan leapt forward, grabbing the gun from Jonathan’s hands and tossing it across the grass. He pushed Jonathan to the ground, pinning his hands behind his back. You let out a breath as you felt yourself grow tired. Emily caught you before you fell the rest of the way to the ground, holding you close to her body as she screamed for a medic. 

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” Emily gently rocked you, “you’re going to be fine.”

“I’m sorry,” you muttered, tears running down your cheeks.

Your eyes were heavy as you attempted to pry them open.

You let out a shaky breath as you finally pulled your eyes open, the smell of disinfectant hit you first, followed by the sounds of beeping. You were in the hospital. You glanced down at your arm, an IV stuck in your arm while a pulse oximeter was clipped to your finger. Despite the fact the doctor had prescribed pain medication, you still felt like shit and your shoulder was killing you.

A soft noise caught your attention and you glanced at the chair next to your bed, Spencer sound asleep in a chair with a hospital blanket draped over him. You smiled softly as you saw the flowers, balloons and plushies littered around your room, most likely a courtesy of Penelope.

“She’s awake,” Morgan smiled, standing in the doorway. 

You grinned at him, “Hi, Derek.”

Morgan slowly walked over to your bed. “Feeling okay, pretty girl?” Morgan gently grabbed your hand, giving it a soft squeeze.

“I’m okay,” you replied. You almost didn’t want to ask but you knew you had to, “...is the baby okay?”

“Your baby is fine,” Morgan replied with a soft smile. You let out a breath of relief as you placed a hand over your tummy protectively. “...You scared the life out of everyone though.”

“I know,” you sighed.

“Especially your lover boy,” Morgan said, “he hasn’t left your side.”

“Sounds like my Spencer,” you laughed softly. 

“Y/N?” Spencer’s voice was laced with sleep as he opened his eyes. He quickly got up, ditching the blanket on the floor to tend to you.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Morgan quickly said before leaving the room.

Spencer’s warm hands cupped your face as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, “I thought I lost you, Y/N.” He let out a breath, pulling away to stare at your face and stroke your cheeks with his thumbs. You reached a hand up to grip his forearm.

“I’m sorry–”

“You don’t need to–”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” Tears formed in your eyes as you stared up at him, searching for any kind of anger or resentment. There wasn’t any, he could never be mad at you.

“I wouldn’t have let you come on the case,” he replied after a beat. “I wouldn’t have let you leave the house.”

“That’s why I didn’t tell you… I knew you would be protective– more protective,” you corrected with a soft smile. 

“I’m aware,” Spencer pulled his lips into a tight smile. “You know the odds of… complications are higher in the first trimester, angel. You should have told me,” he frowned.

“I know, Spence,” you sighed. “I just wanted to make sure I was in the clear before I told you… I understand being shot isn’t necessarily helping with that but–”

“I understand,” he replied. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

You stared at him for a moment, “are you happy?”

“Happy?”

“That I’m pregnant? I know we’re not married and our jobs are crazy but–”

Spencer cut you off by pressing a kiss to your lips, he pulled away slightly, “I’ve never been more happy,” he whispered.

You beamed with happiness, a bright smile tugging on your lips. Spencer hesitantly pressed a hand to your belly, his thumb stroking your tiny bump.

“Penelope thinks it’s a girl,” you muttered.

“...What do you think?” He asked curiously.

“I think she might be right,” you giggled softly.

“You know you can’t actually tell yet,” Spencer said and you rolled your eyes playfully.

“You asked what I thought!” you retorted.

He laughed softly, “Yes, you’re right, you’re right.”

“Mmm, did that taste like poison to admit?”

“Are gunshot victims supposed to be this mouthy?”

a/n: phew! i hope you guys liked it <3 i know i disappeared for a hot minute but here she is!!!

[pushingdaisies1]

Kinda hate you, kinda love you . . . ♡

(✧ ˚.) PAIRING-> James "Logan" Howlett {A.K.A} Wolverine x Reader >_< (✧ ˚.) SUMMARY -> Being an X-men was a lot for you to sign up for. Well.. you didn't have a chance to deny this safe haven. The school became your home and the people that made up the X-men like a weird little familial unit. You had many reasons for staying as long as you did, but one was more prickly and jaded. The feelings you harbored for a stern and calloused Logan were.. weird for you to feel firsthand. One day, you are stuck overlooking a danger room drill between Gambit and Logan. With the new member of your world-saving team Jubilee by your side, it's too dull to NOT talk with each other. She was a good kid, hyperactive and spirited that's for sure. You talk, and talk a lot you do to the human embodiment of the fourth of July. It makes you think a little bit too hard about yours and Logans... predicament. (✧ ˚.) AUTHORS NOTE -> Hiii!!! This is my first time writing stuff for Logan so - bee tee dubs it may be complete and utter horse shit. I'd like to thank @velvrei for helping me ignite some well-dead thoughts. Genuinely love ur work sm and reading that and a lot more new/old logan content helped TONS. This is linked to the {♡x-men animated series/x-men97♡} series. I do wanna write more for the Deadpool timeline xmen/early 2000s timeline xmen!! But after seeing the masterpiece that is Deadpool and Wolverine, I lowkey just clung to those shows. I love animated Logan!! He is even more emotionally stunted/sassy sad!! (✧ ˚.) CWS (?) -> Logan nd u are sad ppl who don't know how to voice ur feelings!! , pining from afar/one-sided not so one-sided yearning, UHM HURT/KINDA COMFORT??? MAYBE??? I THINK??? , unprompted suggestiveness from logan , mentions of struggling to connect with other ppl/fears of the future (bay bay jubilee my love) , u and Jubilee just kinda bond, off topic idk cajun dialect so..... , and u infodump as a weird suto older sister/mom in her life, this was all very spur of the moment so uhm - not proofread!!! kinda!!!!!!!

The dangeroom was a room a lot of the X-men team spent their time in. To either train for a new threat or for general movement, drills were a common theme. Especially after world-shaking events, which were always somehow a constant, the professor was the equivalent of an alarm clock. Drills this, always having to run down into the war room. You didn't mind the training sessions if it was one-on-one or even with the whole team. Sometimes though, it was almost nagging. 

Though there were little things you'd do to pass this time. If you were made to overlook it or otherwise. Most of the time there didn't need to be supervision within the training center itself. Everyone was on high alert, and off days were few and far between. Logan had been hashing it out with Gambit all morning and wanted to do a specific procedure setting. You held your head in your hands as you sighed at the grown men's demands. Gambit was a professional sweet talker, Logan wasn't when needed. Of course, you complied, understanding the sudden want for more extensive training. When Jubilee volunteered you started to not loathe the idea of sitting in on Logan and Gambit - literally butting heads. 

Jubilee was a nice kid, you felt bad for her sudden entrance into life within the school. The professor was welcoming as always. With your push and her foster parents wanting her to be safe from threats like the sentinels, she was a bonified member.

Being the "newbie" always had its drawbacks. From day one you made sure to have her back, you could relate to her whole fish-out-of-water point of view. Logan saw the way you attached fast to the kid. He was like a vault of thoughts and feelings. Thoughts and feelings he never wanted to bring up or even let alone talk about. But it made your heart flutter just a tad when he sat his hand on your shoulder, gently rubbing a thumb against it.

He had stopped you before you were about to retire to your room. In the doorway to your personal, pillow escape he made sure to reel you down to earth. "Give the kid some breathing room. I know you want to help but there's no use for you smothering her."

You were almost baffled. What was he going on about? You were just looking out for her? Deep down, you did know what he meant. He might have not been a long-term X-Men member. But he did know you and the fragments of "memories" you held so dearly close to your chest. You two were so different and yet one in the same. Before you could even argue, he gave you a small .. somewhat comforting pat on said shoulder. "Just a friendly word of advice bub, don't take it so close to heart. Oh wait, that's inevitable." He joked at you with his signature toothy grin. You couldn't help but scoff in surprise and laughter as he jabbed at you with his SINGULAR witty remark.

Logan could be many things. Rough around the edges, even a total asshole when he felt like it. But to you, he was your kryptonite. It was pathetic the way you'd always eventually be pulled to bend at that man's every word. He just did that to you, and you had no answer to it. 

Making your way up to the upper room with Jubilee, you watched with tired eyes as the door to the observation room slid open. Cold - walls and floor head to toe with this sleek metal texture. There were two chairs, right behind the control panel where the training sequence(s) would be initiated. Your eyes were trained on the window as you watched Gambit and Logan make their entrance inside the training room itself. Gambit of course was rapidly shuffling a deck of cards. They were almost flying in the palms of his hands as he prepared them. Logan was of course blabbing his big mouth, in his signature suit "lumbering up" as he would call it. Finally, as you just now sat your bottom into the smooth-cushioned observation chairs, Jubilee was already starting the conversation. Thank god for you as you were still shaking the morning off of you."So what? , we just watch them throw around with each other, or what?" She cracked with a curious glance at the two men down below. You rested your chin in the palm of your hand as you leaned back. "Pretty much, we're here just in case the system doesn't shut down in time. Sometimes it does that."

She paused before she gave you a pointed look, her chunky pink sunglasses almost falling off of her black head of hair. "We're babysitting them!?" She retorted with a sort of faux annoyance. "I mean it's 'something' to do but - come on...." She groaned as she crossed her arms, heavy in on the air quotations. Cutting in, you directed your hand to the control panel. "No no no, not just that.”

Gathering your thoughts, you pointed out each scenario on the deck. You couldn't help but crack a smile at Jubilee's small "ohs" and "ah's". With the development, you two were brought into a nice steady stream of conversation. Hunched in her seat, yellow boots crinkling in this position, she poked and prodded you about your style and so on. it was nice to be looked at with such idealization. Her eyes were huge with wonder as she jumped to questions and searched for answers. Though it was only so nice until the two of you were interrupted by the impact of a card deck. As it smacked against the window, you pinched the bridge of your nose.

Hitting the intercom, you cleared your throat. "So sorry gentlemen! You two ready or what?" You retorted as you leaned over the panel. Gambit gathered back the cards into his hands. "Me? , 'course cher! Any day I would love to stick it to da fuzz ball over der." He remarked with a scheming smirk. Logan growled as his claws immediately sprouted from his knuckles. "I'll show you fuzz ball you pest." His lip curled up almost like a predator ready to pounce.

Jubilee sat back quiet as a mouse as she watched you talk through to the two. "Alrighty alright! Save the pouncing for later." You barked with a small chuckle at the end. You couldn't help but feel buzzy at the way Logan reared his head up. Gambit was too busy swapping cards from hand to hand. But all of Logan's attention was just on you, it was always just on you.

 "Okay, how are we feeling about the ruined city for today?" You asked the two as Gambit started to twirl a card in between his middle and pointer fingers. "Yes yes yes, dat will do just nicely, right Wolvie?" He asserted - training a hard on the hard-headed "foe." Logan's voice was low and gruff as he found his stance. "Don't get so ahead of yourself Gamby." He retorted as he turned back to you in the window. "Start it up doll, before this one here loses all of his spice." He barked with a laugh as Logan jostled his mask on. You rolled your eyes with a faint smile. "If you say so, bee-tee-dubs .. don't kill each other! Please and thank you." You affirmed as the array of buttons were clicked. As the scenery shifted into a torn-down cityscape, foes were already on the two men. The only fun thing about watching over the training sessions was getting to watch fellow X-Men in action. Just not with the risk of losing your life in the process. Leaning back into your chair, you took in a nice breath of air. Peace, for now at least. Jubilee sat up more straight, letting her bright yellow duster-like jacket collect at the sides of her chair. She brought her legs to her chest as both you and she watched Gambit and Logans fighting. You could feel her eyes wander to you in the quiet. You looked directly towards her, a sympathetic smile gracing your face. "How are you feeling?" Your voice was small but warm, comforting almost. This was the first time someone had even really asked her. "I don't know... it's like everything is just changing at once. I feel like a big Rubix cube." She said with a frown as she got more comfortable where she sat. You nodded your head in almost remembrance. "Trust me, becoming an X-men isn't the hardest part. It's living like one." Admitting with a soft sort of comfort, Jubilee was already warmer than before. The training session flew by as you two just talked and talked. She lamented about what life would be like now, what she would and wouldn't miss. How she was stripped of living like a normal teenager. "I mean everyone here has already been so nice to me, but this is just gonna take a lot of getting used to. ", she would lament to you in honesty. You tried to be as insightful as possible. Telling her that living as an X-men will always be tricky. But there will always be the people around here that'll keep you steady. Her ears perked up when you listed off your so-called "anchors." She immediately butted in after you listed off the Wolverine himself, Logan. "That guy? You two seem to be always at each other's throats?" She cracked at you with an inquisitive grin. "Well I mean yeah - he can be .. overly confident a lot of the time." You were almost reminding yourself. You didn't realize how long you spent talking about your scruffy metal-clawed 'friend.' You went on and on about how he combated with you in the best possible ways. How with his time in the X-Men, he opened up your worldview in many instances. He did so much to you and for you. He was almost like your escape in a way, and he maybe shared the same view. You didn't get into the nitty-gritty details of it, 'cause ew. But the moments away from daily life hecticness within the school you and he shared were your favorite. His arms were the sweetest embrace anyone could ask for. But that's what friends do, that's what friends are for.

 Though you always wondered if maybe you were wrong. Maybe you were holding on to nothing. Maybe there was an intimate connection between you two hiding under the surface. But you had a track record of getting your hopes up. You dashed those daydreams away as Jubilee yanked you back down into the now of things. Time flew by as the training sequence ended. Logan was immediately gloating his way out of the danger room. You and Jubilee met the two halfway. Gambit sang your high praises as he lamented about kicking Logan's ass in the drill. As the two grown men bickered Jubilee made her exit known. Since the professor was already summoning them all to the war room. Gambit waved you off with a small wink and another grand shuffle of his cards. Which just left you and logan ... fun. 

He quirked his brow in your direction as he realized your quiet demeanor. “Can you believe the guy? - come on bub you saw me!” He said in astonishment at Gambit's gambit tendencies. You crinkled your nose in a small giggle. If you were seeing straight, you couldn’t help but notice a small dash of a smile on Logan's face once he saw your mood brighten. His smile always found ways to make your knees weak and arms all jelly. “Yeah yeah, dont get your panties in a twist Lo.” You said with a twinkle in your eye. A grin followed spreading almost ear to ear.

His eyes softened ever so slightly with your jokes. He grumbled out his poorest joke yet. “Oh, I’ll show you.” He retorted before yanking you into him. Your back met his chest plate as you felt his collection of sweat. His muscled arms wrapped around your midsection as he whirled you around like a windmill. You ignited with laughter and “yucks” as you felt his sweat spreading onto you. You fought out his hold with a grimace and a sheepish chuckle, wiping your eye. “Christ man, you got all your .. muck on me!”

By now his claws were already dashed away. So his hands were now placed on his hips. He rolled his eyes as he looked you up and down. “Come on, you’ll live to see another day shrimpy.” He claimed with his eyes slowly wandering. “I look like a wet dog thanks to you.” You frowned jokingly, shaking your arms out. “On and on with you.” He remarked once again with his eyes rolling AGAIN soon after.

Closer and closer the two of you got as you both threw phony insults back and forth. Before your lips were inches away from one another. He drawled his quick mouth up and spat back something that would leave your mind in utter… shock. Was confusion the right word?  “Don’t play around with me, dimples. I know you’d like more than just my arms around you.” You quickly gasped out the pocket of air you were holding onto. A long pause was felt throughout the hall before you two darted in separate ways.

“I need to change!” You sheepishly shouted as you headed in the opposite direction of him. He did the same, mumbling whatever under his breath. “Don’t slip and fall!” He coughed out as you rubbed your face in annoyance. “Eat shit, Logan!” , “That’ll be a long time coming!” The both of you remarked to the other in unison. Both of your voices share the same sort of flustered frustration. You raced into the showers as you soon stumbled towards the sinks.

You splashed your face with cold water as your heart was still racing. Your cheeks were burning up let alone from his words. But you were soon able to catch up with your breath. Regaining your composure you looked yourself in the mirror. Gritting your teeth as you looked at the fool Logan made you. The Wolverine could be a hard-headed buffoon. Always on his way to making a snide insult with whichever X-men member was disagreeing with him. But god damn it was he your poison. You hated him and he hated you. That was the thing that kept you steady as you changed into uniform and raced towards the ongoing meeting. You knew that same smile still lingered on your face once you made your entrance into the war room. Able to brush off the team's sudden accusations as you made sure to remind everyone about the issue at hand. The Professor thanked you as he went back to discussing what new threats plagued human life. Your eyes always made their way back to Logans with small lingers. Making eye contact with you, his eye-line was diverted by you as you turned your attention back to the professor. The Wolverine was a fool, and he had already found purchase in your foolish heart. 

ꔫ✉ reblogs/interaction is appreciated <3 part two - ⭐️

[brynn-lear]

When Cuckoos Throw Ores [Yandere!Jing Yuan x Reader]

Questionable Overview: After transmigrating to Teyvat, you and Jing Yuan had lived like family on your shared apartment as getting-by descenders. But, you made an error too grave. You hid the anonymous love letters you received from the person you should’ve trusted the most— and now you’ve got yourself a broken mind. [Fic written for May June]

CWs/tags: yandere themes, isekai, moments where you wish Jing Yuan just committed murder instead so it would hurt less, mentions of failed childbirth, nadia & vlad are adorable, implied hysteria, cute n' wholesome beginning w/ found family to "man... man.", gaslighting gatekeep is JY's passion.

"I'm an adult, Jing Yuan! I think I have the right to leave as I please."

Have you ever been so incredibly fascinated by such a mundane object that all worldly noise drowns?

"The right to trample on my heart? To leave me to drown in my despair while you obsess over a single ore without a single thought for me? I must say, it doesn’t seem very sound. Stay put while I call for Doctor Baizhu."

Have you ever had your hand reach out ever so slightly without you realizing such? For your fingers to curl— for you to seize a trinket as though you were compelled by an existence— an idea higher than any mortal comprehension? As though it was fate? As though it was a fruit you weren't meant to take a bite off?

But the most mundane of all…

"There’s no need! Because great General and Emanator of the Hunt Jing Yuan—"

Have you ever lamented a life that "never" happened?

"— I have the right to mourn the happy ending you took from me!"

Though those uninitiated will rehash the root of events in your arrival to the chasm, the most knowledgeable would start the accounts from your arrival to Teyvat.

You did not step foot alone.

When your worldline was destroyed, so, too, was Jing Yuan's. 

Lady Ningguang greeted you both with a good measure of skepticism. You were both "descenders.", though it was soon made evident that your origins are different. He was from "Xianzhou Loufu," and you were from "Earth."  Course, despite your shared tragic circumstances, not everything shall be handed on a silver platter for unfortunate souls. Ningguang was kind enough to provide you both with a shared apartment complex near the fishing port and since then, you and Jing Yuan had a bond not so dissimilar from siblings. He got a job as a general, and your current position is a little more flexible than your previous one.

Whatever principles and studies were available in the previous realms you lived in, they were carried over in Teyvat. Each word circulating about Jing Yuan’s undefeated sword and lance techniques makes you smile; he, in turn, would enthusiastically applaud your sold artworks and STEM innovations. It makes you wholly embarrassed every time he makes what is supposed to be a celebration of his mission’s success into a congratulatory speech for what you’ve done in the same timeframe. Didn’t matter how minute it was. His comrades had already considered the long-standing tradition as a not-so-private joke.

His lack of personal praise worries you sometimes…

There’s a stark difference in your approach to this new life. You mourned for yours being gone; while he doesn’t speak much about his.

“No rush,” he'd say. “All truths shall reveal itself in due time.”

You know about his world, though vaguely. He has a striking resemblance to the character from Honkai: Star Rail. Course, that implies he had gone through similar ordeals as the character. 

“I am an old man, there is nothing for me to grieve.” He told you once. “I have… already witnessed comrades pass, and then some. Have you encountered the phrase: there are fates worse than death?”

Jing Yuan closed his eyes.

“I… find it easier to assume that it might be the only way to put old conflicts to rest.” He shook his head and downed his final shot of baijiu. Yuan sighed, tasting the aftermath in his breath.

“It’s better to put a permanence in death than another forced rebirth.”

He poured you a shot.

"Some memories are better left forgotten. And that applies to you, too."

Whatever he said felt untranslatable to you, hence, you gave up on making more inquiries. If the day comes and he wishes to open up, you'll be there for him anyway.

Or so you thought.

“Heard you’re planning to add another medal to your jacket.” 

Jing Yuan nearly halted from tying his long hair up. You watched his shoulders tremble, likely from trying to compose himself.

“Ha! You've heard a half-truth, I wasn't scheming on anything, it was merely handed to me.” His tone was calm, but you heard the well-hidden smugness.

You shrugged and sipped your coffee nonchalantly. 

… You seriously wish his uniform didn't hug his form that good. Just staring at him makes the room feel degrees hotter. 

You cleared your throat.

“I didn't say anything about schemes, Jing Yuan. Suspicious.”

“Oh?” He hummed, almost sultry for your ears.

…Curse him and his damn beatific smiles.

This playful banter is as natural as the dawn of day. Rather than spending the early morning getting ready for the day, you've both grown accustomed to teasing the other person. He, in his finely ironed uniform, and you, in your comfy pajamas. 

“Since when have I besmirched my name by squandering time? Rude of you to imply that slothfulness rules over my life.” Jing Yuan joked before he moved another piece. “You wound me, dear (Y/n).”

Due to the nature of the conversation, you hadn't thought of your next move much as you continued to probe him. “And what exactly are you doing right now instead of reporting to the Qixing, General?”

He smirked. “I am on-duty, am I not?”

“By talking to me?”

“I have been bound by mundane duties in both my past and current lives, and I must say, engaging with a Person of Interest such as yourself has not only been productive but also mentally stimulating.”

You paused. 

Person of Interest…?

Might as well curse him and his fancy cursive way of implying something too. 

Your nose scrunched. “Are you saying I'M on the Qixing’s watchlist?!—”

“Not in a bad light; don’t worry your pretty head over such menial matters,” he ruffled your hair as he craned over, gazing at your disgruntled morning expression with a loving vigor. “They have an eye for your talent. No Ministry would ever obsess over a clean criminal record.”

You grumbled as you attempted to fix your hair, despite lacking any energy. “Thanks, that calms me down. Especially with the talks about criminal activity on the rise and all.”

He laughed at your snarkiness.

“Is this your best attempt at prying information? I must say, your current occupation suits you. I can now place a finger as to why the thought of Lady Ningguang hiring you as a profiler put me in tremendous unease.”

“Oh don’t be a prick, Yuan.” You chuckled heartily as you gave him a playful slap— which he no doubt avoided. “But seriously, can’t you tell me more about what’s happening?”

There were no further words needed. Such rumors had been on the forefront of the people’s minds: a group of rogue “mercenaries” had found new temptations in banditry— and had the nerve to stew misfortunes on the main harbor itself. As a newly enforced general, Jing Yuan had, of course, been subjected to handling this situation under the ever-watchful gaze of the Qixing. A challenge, as he likes to label it. Whatever helps him sleep at night, you’d reply.

Although, it would certainly soothe YOUR insomnia better if he were to divulge even a hair-sliver of detail in regards to how “safe” this mission truly was.

“(Y/n), there is no cause for concern.” He pulled back, placing his hands on your shoulders. “You know my repertoire— else I wouldn’t consider you a close friend.”

Your heart ached for a second.

In small snippets from the multiple conversations you’ve had with him, you knew he kept his list of close friends few. There’s always a hint of guilt in his voice when he talks about those named Baiheng, Jingliu, Yingxing, and Dan Feng in passing. 

“And I’m just worrying over you,” you lightheartedly glared and waved your hand dismissively. “You know, like a real close friend.”

You both grinned in unison as if telling each other that neither would back down from this “argument” any time soon. He snorted and messed your hair up more. Over the time you’ve spent in each other’s company, your near-telepathic way of conversing has become quite an eerie issue for other mutual friendships. 

Not that either of you minded this. It’s always nice to be understood. 

“I know that look in your eye. Don’t add a part two from last night’s horror stories, please.”

“Then, I’ll take my leave,” he buttoned his jacket. “Last reminder before I go: you have arranged a meeting with Nadia this afternoon.”

“Thanks,” you huffed. “But unlike you, I don’t sleep in and forget my schedule.”

You swore that even after the door was closed, you heard him chuckle yet again. After that, he was gone.

Honestly, with someone with a “life-loving” temperament like him, you’re unsure if he’s easy to please— or too damn good at faking it for his good.

You heard soft knocks against your window.

Slowly, a grin forms on your lips.

“Hello, little man…” You cooed as you stood up and opened for not only the fresh Liyue morning breeze to enter…

But for a diligent little cuckoo bird to deliver its very special package as well.

You’ve always had a soft spot for animals…

“Hmm?”

Your eyes softened as it dropped its parcel and leaned its body against you, warming itself by sitting cozily on your window ledge. This little bird is quite the skilled messenger— always dropping by as soon as Jing Yuan takes his leave. As to why it suspiciously arrives as soon as he is gone, you’re unsure. Such a sneaky creature; you can’t help but adore it.

That’s not to say its deliveries are not as equally charming.

You chuckled as you elegantly unwrapped the ribbon. The letter was elegantly written in a scrawl you’ve familiarized even with eyes closed for the past months, yet it still holds an intensity that makes your heart flutter. 

There it was. The two words that keep you going better than any coffee brew.

“My dearest, (Y/n),….”

“Another letter from Vlad, I’d hope?” You sneaked from behind.

Nadia yelped, hitting you almost immediately. The delay was surely from being on a lovelorn cloud-nine, but her Fatui training that earned her last name definitely should’ve made you double-think.

You shriveled at the pain and she awkwardly cradled you.

“Oh shucks— I’m so sorry, (Y/n)! I-I didn’t realize it was y-y— Don’t scare me like that!” 

“Sorry! Sorry!” You hissed, blaming only yourself for the stinging aftermath. “I-I’ll get over it.”

Nadia guided you to the empty seat beside her. As soon as you were seated, she wasted no time to spill.

“The contents were far too adorable for my heart, oh, dear Tsaritsa, you NEED to read this.” 

An eyebrow was raised. Saying you had a suspicion that something like this would happen would be an understatement— when it came to Nadia, it was more like routine. It had been regular for you and her to get together at least once a month to chat over letters that you both received. Nothing about the time you spent with her was dull. She's the reason you adapted to the Liyue way of life so well. As you were both foreign to the culture— you and Jing Yuan are admittedly the extreme cases— you and her were eager to recount experiences in times of distress. And times of pure unbridled lovesick joy, such as this.

“C’mon, pass it.” You tried to say cooly, but the glimmer in your eyes betrayed your high school-like excitement.

“Same time.” Nadia huffed. "Can't have you gatekeeping your own letter!"

You pulled out yours from your purse.

Nadia wasn’t the only one with something to present to the class. This is just like a teacher forcing students to read their discreetly passed notes out loud. 

Nadia has her Vlad.

You have your Nay Jung I.

Instantly, you both suppressed a giggle in the abrupt exchange.

Nay Jung I. You know little about him, and that intrigue keeps the fire going. When you see a white cuckoo passing by the window, you immediately know it means well. A sight that makes your heart skip a beat. Instead of pushing eggs, it slips a love letter whenever Jing Yuan isn’t around. All coming from a man you can’t track down.

That’s right.

You have a secret admirer.

As you read through the middle of Vlad’s letter for Nadia, you heard your very-much-an-adult friend bite back a squeal in front of you. Nay Jung I may sound like a feminine name, but he was a man. You could’ve sworn you saw Xiangling laugh from the corner of your eye as Nadia tugged your sleeve around like a fool.

“Oh my God?! He wrote that?!” Her lips were akin to wobbly lines toddlers would draw when mimicking the sun’s rays. 

“I find myself constantly catching glimpses of you in my daydreams, my mind flooded with what could be— what should be. Forgive me for my selfishness, but I fear it won’t take long before I can no longer bear the thought of being without you… What?! That’s so SWEET?!” Nadia clutched your love letter tightly, eyes wide as though she was the recipient.

Xiangling, bless her soul, had to peek behind her.

“I wish I could have the courage to reveal myself to you. When I doubt myself, my thoughts turn to you… Aww… I wonder who Mister Nay is and what did you do to get him this in love?” Xiangling playfully pouted, which made Nadia grin wider, almost teasing her. “Geez. When will I get a boy to send me letters?”

“I’m sure you’re going to get one or two someday. A way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, right?” Nadia shrugged as she folded the paper and hid it. “Plus, I fear you’re too young for this.”

“Careful, Dia, she’s the one preparing our food.” You joked.

Nadia has grown more friendly to locals for the better since you started sharing meals here. Everyone knows the feelings between her and Vlad were mutual— but neither of them was willing to confess. With Nadia hoping he initiates, and him densely hesitant on whether she reciprocates. One of them can end this phase should they abandon pride or cowardice.

But Nay Jung I?

You can’t find his records anywhere… And he had told you that it is a fake name by your fourth letter, much to your chagrin.

So, you’ve settled with this arrangement. For now, you are both friends, despite knowing he has feelings for you from the start.

“Mister Nay definitely has it bad for you, Mx. (Y/n).” She gave you a closed-eyed smile. “You need to write back immediately! The man’s probably starving for it!— Oh, right, the pot!!!”

As the chef rushed back after being distracted, you gave Nadia’s letter back to her.

“Any chance of rain?” You asked.

“Cloudy with negative one percent chance that I’ll run to Northland Bank and confess to Vlad.” Nadia spoke sheepish;y.

“That’s at least five percent higher than yesterday.”

“Well, this last letter was adorable.” She swooned.

“Mx. (Y/n), you seem incredibly free at the moment, care to have a chat?”

You turned to look at the new person who joined in.

Fur coat, a distinct mole placement, a sharp haircut, and eyes self-assured enough to conceal their need for urgent assistance, it has to be none other than—

“Miss Yelan,” you gave her a polite smile. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

Nadia sat up straight, shifting to her work mode. “Is there some business you require from the Northland Bank?”

“I have no quarry with you, Madam Nadia, what I do want—” Yelan tilted her head, her eyes calculating. “Is to speak to (Y/n) in private.”

You paused, recalling the conversation you had this morning.

‘I have been bound by mundane duties in both my past and current lives, and I must say, engaging with a Person of Interest such as yourself has not only been productive but also mentally stimulating.’

Maybe this is what Jing Yuan was warning you about this morning.

“Fine, I concede.” You sighed, swiftly snatching your letter from Nadia’s hands and tucking it inside the pockets of your inner jacket.

“Lead me to where you most need me.”

Over the years you’ve spent on Liyue, you’ve had another habit you’ve been nursing on the sidelines.

Epigraphy.

Better yet, it’s for the sole purpose of decoding ancient artifacts. Before you were transmigrated into Teyvat, you found that inspecting artifact descriptions and reading through lore strewn in notes and dialogues were a great part of what made playing Genshin Impact enjoyable. You devoured theories whether they were from YouTubers like Ashikai or other CCs who were eager to unravel and analyze myths from different civilizations. To be inside THE sandbox was the greatest treat. If your friends were here, you have no doubt you’d have plenty who’d look and try to pick apart Mister Zhongli’s brain.

Unfortunately, you never managed to catch his eye.

And the biggest misfortune of all, you caught Miss Yelan’s instead.

“It’ll take me a few weeks to decipher and solve this puzzle…” You told her hesitantly. “And I can’t guarantee anything either.”

Yelan only tilted her head. Strands of her hair hid her expression, and the only body language to be read was the way she played with the die on her fingers. You wondered if she was deciding your fate by giving it a roll…

You looked at the inscribed walls.

A man with horns… and his partner wearing a long hanfu… His partner… Reminds you of a beautiful cuckoo bird.

You sighed.

When she bargained for a chat in “private”, the Chasm was the last location you had in mind. Even more, it did not occur to you that she aimed to use you as a translator. For a language you only learned a few years ago.

You knew you couldn’t exactly deny a member of the Qixing, especially with how much you carried a moral debt for Lady Ningguang, so you agreed under the condition that Yelan wouldn’t snitch to Jing Yuan.

He might just give you the silent treatment if he found out you were here.

But back on the walls and the puzzle mechanism in the middle of the room…

Both were seated under the shade of a tree… 

Each holding a cup of tea…

“Damn it, why me?” You cussed out loud.

You seriously want to tell her that she should’ve chosen Zhongli. 

Not that you’d know that Yanfei begged Yelan to hire you for the job.

Yelan made her dice vanish. “If you need further assistance, and by that I meant necessities such as food and water, call for Wenyuan or Shanghua. They’ll materialize right in front of you.”

On the next wall, the horned man tightly held his partner, with tears falling from his eyes… His tail was more apparent in this depiction, but there were crystallized ambers and statues all around…

Like they were running…

Away from him…

You faced Yelan.

“Yelan, can’t you call for someone else—”

You blinked.

She was gone.

You don’t like being here.

You don’t like this cave.

You’re not sure whether you liked the fact Yelan invited you here. On one hand, you were grateful for the opportunity, but at the same time, you thought yourself unqualified for whatever piece of ancient Liyuean history was waiting to bite you in the ass. 

It didn’t take a genius to know that whoever the drawn man was, he was a force to be reckoned with. You played enough Genshin to know that yakshas are not to be trifled. If this ended up as an Azhdaha scenario, you wouldn’t want to be the nameless NPC who died along the way.

Should’ve commissioned the traveler.

As you progressed in your decoding, the texts were beginning to gnaw you. 

“Have you heard the tale of Lady ███ ███?”

You trembled at the thought.

Curse Jing Yuan and his ghost stories.

The story wasn’t even that frightening.

What got you was how Jing Yuan sold them. He had preached it as though he had been a witness. It’s just a typical unnerving tale to keep children alert, but he had always been far more persuasive than you.

“When she and her husband were out exploring, her husband left her while she sired his heir. He left her there to die.”

Jing Yuan’s eyes narrowed. You quietly applauded his commitment to the bit. Should you not know any better, you would’ve thought he hated that man more than anything.

Like he was seething with jealousy.

“Some claim he hid her there to fight for a war, some say it was out of love… In my eyes, it was an unforgivable neglect.”

Jing Yuan claims sharing ghost stories was a common occurrence from when he used to teach his disciple. But you’re not an idiot. You can sniff out a reason why he loves to bring these stupid tales.

“Days felt like a prison tally. She had forgotten what it felt to live in the sun.”

“She lived only by fulfilling basic needs. No matter how thick the mud was, no matter what was within the soil— all she could do was bitterly swallow what was to come. She bit her tongue on the ever-growing famine— and wished that her child would survive.”

Jing Yuan does not want you anywhere near the chasm.

“So when it was time to give birth, she had no assistance. She pushed her child out as hard as she could, and laid an empty egg.”

Before you could even ask why a human would lay an egg, Jing Yuan continued.

“But they both passed away.” 

“Legends say, that’s the reason why the lumenstone ore glows. It contains the watchful gaze of a scorned mother and unborn child…”

“And if you aren’t careful, you too—”

“Could be trapped inside it.” 

You scoffed.

Was the tale stupid? Depends on who you ask. Was it sad? Sorta. Was the thought of two ghosts— possibly more— watching you as you were forcibly dispatched to read through The Chasm’s secrets terrifying? Given the dark and brooding atmosphere, it was a quiet yes.

“Hmm? I— I solved it…?”

You blinked.

Maybe you still retained your skills as a Genshin player. Anything for a luxurious chest is what you would’ve said. And yet, it still baffled you that one did appear.

When you unlocked it, you saw no “primogem” like you quietly hoped (it would be funny if you unlocked a wish function, but that’s unlikely…)

Instead, you found a dusty ore.

“Great.” You muttered dryly. “Just what I needed.”

It was amber in color, same as the clothes the man wore in the wall paintings. You’re at a loss on how you should report this to Yelan.

“Better than nothing.” You spoke, laughing slightly. That sounded like something Diluc would say. You should buy a dandelion wine after this hard work.

Quickly, you fished out the gloves in your pockets. It was made of nitrile, which should protect the ore from possible oil and moisture from your hands. Yelan was very insistent you wear it.

But as soon as you touched the ore…

Your consciousness slipped away.

There was a man in front of you.

But you couldn’t see his face. 

“Dearest ███ ███…” The horned man smiled delicately as he sipped his tea. “It has been centuries since our first wedding ceremony. Do be honest with me, do you still hold the same passion as before.”

These memories appear to you in a blur.

“No, I do not.” You heard your voice say as the man’s shoulders slowly deflated. His amber eyes looked down, and his smile began to strain.

With two fingers, you lifted his chin.

“If anything, my love for you has grown stronger,” you spoke. “For you and I shall never let our draconic instincts dull, and our union will be the greatest treasure we shall hoard in this never-ending flow of time.”

“…/n…!”

One hand took his scaley hand and the other held his cheek, caressing softly.

“Promise you shall return?” You heard yourself mutter, this time weak and hopeless.

He leaned against your palm, purring as though it might be the last time he’ll savor your warmth.

“You know I do not make promises, ███ ███.” He spoke firmly. “What I keep are contracts. And I have vowed to make you happy, for as long as I live.”

“…(Y… (Y/n…. snap… out…!”

“Contracts normally sound so cold, but your honeyed voice makes it sound so romantic.”

“You know well, my love, in all my years, I’ve witnessed endless contracts and agreements. Whether it was tangible or verbal— each one was a significant chapter to someone’s life.”

The horned man softly detangled your fingers from his long brown hair and kissed your hand.

“But only one brought forth complete change. Our matrimonial agreement. The contract we signed gave me the most happiness. I’ve never signed a happier contract than this one.”

“And I share the same sentiment.” You cooed, almost cheeky. “And I hope our future child shall feel our love as well.”

He rested his head on your shoulder and sighed.

“The day shall come, my love.” He spoke. “Just wait for me, until I fulfilled what the Heavenly Principles desires.”

“Of course,” you hugged him back. 

“I shall wait for you, my dearest…

“(Y/N)!!!”

You flinched.

Suddenly, you’re not in the mountains. You’re not hiding under the shade of a tree with warm-hued leaves. You were…

You were sitting on a patch of grass, just outside the chasm.

And Jing Yuan is mad.

He had a cold unmerciful glare. His built frame towered above you, casting a large shadow. It was already nighttime. Normally, only the moonlight and the lamps from afar should be the only source of light here, but his golden eyes seemed to glow. As though it was ready to call forth an entity you were not prepared to face.

You know the depths of his anger. Years of living inseparable from him has made every communication almost telepathic and that hadn’t changed. You can read it in his breaths, in his stiff and tall posture, in his unnerving gaze.

He is threatening you to spill. Saying without words that:

There are fates worse than death.

But your pulse was steady. But your breathing was calm. But your expression was blank.

You weren’t terrified.

And you can read that deep down, that scared the General more.

“Nay Jung I…”

For a moment, Jing Yuan’s eyes widened— as though there was something he was the only one privy to knowing. His face had a mix of surprise and disbelief before he steeled himself.

“Nay Jung I?” He scoffed. 

“What of him?” Jing Yuan asked.

“He’s my soulmate.”

As soon as those words left your mouth, brief incoherent syllables sputtered out of his mouth. You evoked more emotions in him this time around. You saw flashes of shock, what seemed to be happiness, hope, and then utter confusion.

“...What?”

“I saw him.” You said, calm. “I saw him as soon as I touched that rock. My soulmate— he had long hair and eyes like a dragon— I think he was a dragon, and so was I. I think my soulmate is in Liyue and he’s hiding behind the name Nay Jung I.”

Jing Yuan opened his mouth, before thinning his lips.

This time, you were certain.

He was not only mad. Jing Yuan was sorely disappointed.

“I understand…” 

You know the expression on his face. You read him like a discipline you mastered in epigraphy. He thinks that… 

You have gone “cuckoo.”

He turned around, no longer facing you.

“I’m sorry then, (Y/n).” 

Jing Yuan does not sound sorry to you.

“What for?”

There was silence for a moment, before he spoke again, voice bitter and vile.

He was not sorry.

He was furious.

He was hurt.

He was jealous.

“Nay Jung I is the leader behind the past terrorist attacks.” He paused. “And I killed him.”

You haven’t recovered ever since.

Every medical “professional” you’ve encountered told you that you were hysterical. That you just hallucinated what you saw. It isn’t possible that the visions you saw were Nay Jung I anyway. 

Maybe they were right about the last part, you don’t want to believe it. 

It was in your instincts. That man had to be your husband in the past. Who cares if you came from another world? Maybe you were an Expy. You had to be. That person— the one who reminded you of a cuckoo bird in those walls— had to be you in another universe. 

It had to be.

Your real soulmate is out there.

And Nay Jung I isn’t dead.

But you’ve never been good at persuading others.

Soyourefusetobelieveityourefusetobelieveityourefusetobelieveityourefusetobelieveityourefusetobelieveityourefusetobelieveityourefusetobelieveityourefusetobelieveityourefusetobelieveityourefusetobelieveityourefusetobelieveityourefusetobelieveityourefusetobelieveityourefusetobelieveityourefusetobelieveityourefusetobelieveityourefusetobelieveityourefusetobelieveit—

“General Jing Yuan, is (Y/n)…?”

Outside the apartment, Mister Zhongli and Jing Yuan stood by the window, peaking at your form. You were so engrossed by your inner conflicts that you couldn’t hear them.

“They’ll… move on from you, eventually.” Jing Yuan spat back coldly. “I’m not the God of Contracts, but I keep promises that do not fail.”

Zhongli’s face crumpled in anguish.

“May I ask a question? Just to sate a bit of curiosity, of course.”

Jing Yuan’s eyes narrowed. Zhongli took that as a yes.

“Are you Nay Jung I?” He asked. “I did not see his name on the list of the deceased criminals—”

“Yes, he and I are the same,” Jing Yuan silenced him. “Nay Jung I is an anagram of Jing Yuan. You can reorder the letters and confirm it for yourself.”

Originally, Jing Yuan had hoped to woo you with a romantic tale of an anonymous admirer. But, in your delirium, you had mistakenly believed that Nay Jung I was the same man in your visions. 

It was repulsive.

Never before had he wished to scream so loudly. He had not felt this much anger when he discovered the crimes his old friends had done. He had not felt as betrayed as when you claimed love for Nay Jung I, but it was not him.

He wanted to summon the Lightning Lord to destroy Liyue right then and there.

It was a frustration he had never felt before. Not when he was training with Jingliu. Not when he was scolding Yanqing. Not ever.

But Jing Yuan was not an impulsive man.

He prides his patience.

He prefers to scheme quietly rather than flashing bold moves.

Jing Yuan sucked in a breath between his teeth. 

“I suppose it’s my turn to ask.”

He shut the windows and Zhongli’s heart ached as he could no longer see you.

But then he turned to look at Jing Yuan.

And he knew…

Jing Yuan is much older and wiser than he looks.

“Tell me, Rex Lapis,” he spoke sharply. “Did you wed this world’s version of (Y/n) (L/n) and leave her and her child to die?”

…

…

…

That silence was enough.

Jing Yuan’s private investigations behind your back were right.

In the vast “multi-verse”, there is a version of you that married this dragon who descended from his Archon status.

“I... have wrought upon them great suffering. I am unworthy of their affections. Should a day come where (Y/n) enacts the fury of my wife and child on their behalf, it will be justly deserved.”

Zhongli did not further elaborate.

Whatever happened in the past, it still haunted him to this day. Lingering in the back of his mind, dulling his self-confidence and wits. Maybe it’s why Yanfei thought you should investigate the cave. Maybe she wanted the alternate version of ███ ███ to come back.

But she's gone.

Jing Yuan took a step closer.

“Your wife is dead, Rex Lapis. They are my (Y/n), not yours.”

“I-… I know.” Zhongli— no— Morax spoke, voice laced with grief. “I know she and (Y/n) are not the same, however, I…”

Another step.

“If you wish for their happiness, you will continue to not speak to them. You have done enough damage.”

Morax closed his eyes mournfully. “I am well aware of this”

Another step.

“Let me take care of (Y/n). Let me make them happy.”

And another.

Jing Yuan stared deep into Morax’s soul.

In all his years of living, it didn’t occur to Morax that he’d find another familiar cuckoo again.

But it wasn’t his wife.

Jing Yuan took another step.

This man in front of him was pushing and pushing…

“Let this conversation be a verbal contract,” he said. “That I, Jing Yuan, vow to make (Y/n) happy, and that you, Rex Lapis, shall step down as a final way to atone your sins of uxoricide and filicide. Do you accept?”

Like a cuckoo throwing an egg off the nest.

Forgive me, dearest ███ ███.

I am unworthy of you, let alone this alternate incarnation of yourself.

Morax inhaled deeply. He remains in his head, yet he can't escape the present. The more time he spent searching inside himself for solutions over his approximately 6000 years in Teyvat, the more evident it became what the sensible path of action was. With open eyes, Morax welcomed the return of the present. He observed the vivid hues of existence. In the vicinity, he heard Jing Yuan's pet cuckoo bird. But most of all, he felt his age.

Whatever time was appropriate to dream of a family— it had long passed him.

I am but an old man who deserves to fade away quietly.

And he…

Has the same vigor Morax once had.

That obsessed look.

That tight, suffocating hold.

Just like staring at a reflection of himself, centuries passed.

Jing Yuan, too, was a man depraved. Worse, he is a man who lost everything, clinging only to (Y/n) as his only solace in Teyvat.

Morax noticed the way Jing Yuan took a walk with you, with one arm draping around your shoulder to ward off those he deemed unwanted.

Morax noticed the way Jing Yuan brags about you with his men in each available opportunity, socially claiming you his.

Morax noticed the way Jing Yuan glares at someone who got too close when he thought you weren’t looking, pushing suitors away.

Morax noticed the way Jing Yuan rarely talks about his story and would rather talk about something you had done, making you a large part of himself.

Morax noticed the way Jing Yuan only cares about you, and not even a sliver for himself.

He would rather not see him destroy himself the way he had done long ago.

And just like that, the General got rid of his greatest rival— Liyue’s archon and your husband from another life.

He is out of the nest.

“I accept.”

May June can now message Jing Yuan

[satoruhour]

a/n: i need college / uni bf!geto rn bc my hands hurt :( newly established relationship <3 0.9k, rich kid!suguru i guess? / tagging @crysugu @na-t0 @papersirens @hydrovillette

“didn’t i tell you not to go so hard on your essay?” geto gives you a small smile, countered by your cute pout in the dark room of your dorm. the way he lectures is gentle, having no bite to it because how would he ever dare to sink his teeth into something as sweet as you? he knows if he does, however, he just might become addicted to you. it’s clear already how the teeth is breaking skin and drawing blood just by the items in the room:

both your faces are illuminated by the fairy lights you begged suguru to buy — he gives in and buys it for you as always. it’s shown in the starbucks mug that cost ¥3300, the sanrio themed bed sheets that you’re now sitting on, the convenience store onigiris for you to store in your fridge.

“was rushin’ it before 2359, su, you know that…” you mumble more to yourself than your boyfriend, who’s staring at you as your eyes droop sheepishly to your connected hands. it’s not wrong that you could’ve started writing this essay a little earlier, cited your sources a little earlier, but you still managed to do it; at the expense of your hands. they ached and throbbed from the position they were in for the past few hours — at least you still had managed to submit it with two minutes to spare.

“but not to the point where your hands turn sore, my darling.” geto brings your hands to his lips to kiss, like the little gesture of love could magically heal you. it feels like it does. the tenderness of his touch, the roughness of his finger pads against your smoother skin, the thoughtfulness itself. you grunt a little in pain when suguru starts to massage the palm, digging his thumb in and dragging it up and down. he squeezes your hands, giving each finger its attention, wiggling the hands to loosen your muscles.

“you know,” you hum in response and look up from your flustered state to find him already staring at you, “my mom used to do this for me.”

“yeah?” you whisper, heart pounding in your ears. two and a half months in and geto suguru was already treating you like treasure, not at all what they say he is: conceited of his intelligence, rude, a know-it-all rich kid. sure, he was smart, he was rich, but he made it clear he had no interest in the industrial, business side of the family. geto was generally open about his past, his parents leaving the toxic world and giving their son an upbringing filled with unconditional love and openness. but people usually liked the juicier gossip; none of them had bothered to know geto for who he was.

“yeah.” geto brings you in via your hands, lips colliding clumsily against yours from the force and you both laugh softly, “said its been passed down in her family for the longest time.”

“it’s helping… a little,” you giggle, eyes memorising his eyes shone under fluorescent.

“is it now?” the warmth of his hand leave yours for a moment to tilt your head up, catching your lips properly this time as he moves slow. suguru takes his time with you, moving against you as his other hand still continues to massage. that was one thing he was good at too, multitasking; he plays with your hand, travelling over your fingers and stroking over each section and its nail bed and then pulling away teasingly while he continues to hypnotise you into a dance. you hear him hum into the kiss, exhaling through his nose as he now interlocks both hands.

“focus on the squeezes, baby,” geto suguru drives you insane, in that little silky voice of his and the slight lilt in his voice. you let him lead you, feeling the soft pressure of his hand as he brings them above your heads and leans forward. you make a small surprised sound as he brings you right down to lay flat on the bed, hovering over you whilst still giving those periodic squeezes, entirely at his mercy as his lips never stop. they come off to breathe for some air and you’re the same, flushed cheeks and swollen lips and geto lets out a shaky breath.

it’s only then when he lets go, caught in your trance. easily, he tugs you into his lap as he lays down, not sure if he could uphold his obsession if he was on top.

“is this really part of the massage process?” you ask, legs naturally going to either side of his hips as you lay on his chest. you smile to yourself when you realise how fast his heart’s beating. off to the side, geto finds your hand again: him with his left and you with your right and you tangle into each other with the choreography of a million sprouts in the wind. finger into finger and palm against palm.

“hmm…” geto feigns confusion, prompting you to turn your head towards him. you grin seeing his red cheeks, “nah, just deviating a little from the family recipe… is it working?”

“it was earlier but now? oh, no, not really.” geto’s eyes flutter close when you move forward just a bit to peck his lips. you twine your fingers with his; you’re getting good at this multitasking thing. “but wherever you are, i will always feel much better than i was.”

“good.” suguru mumbles with a lovesick smile, and he gives your connected hands a squeeze and a grin threatens to spread across his face when you squeeze back just as hard, “that’s… really good.”

[petr1kov]

i swear most berserk fans are the dumbest motherfuckers alive in general but especially so when it comes to analyzing griffith's character and motivations. everything that happened in the eclipse is usually just tied into a neat uncomplicated bow of 'griffith always was a sociopath with no feelings and everyone in the band of the hawk were always seen as disposable tools to him', which is such a poor reading of literally everything that happened prior to it that it drives me insane.

the eclipse is meant to be a huge sacrifice. it is a grotesque and violent ritual that has griffith completely shedding his humanity and becoming something monstrous by cutting ties with everything and everyone that made him feel human in the worst possible way. what would be the point of it if griffith was already a fully-fledged monster from the beginning? why did griffith even need to experience visions to be convinced if he was always ready to sell his comrades for a corn chip?

even the scene where he explicitly states that 'only [guts] made me forget about my dream' often gets misconstrued as being just another expression of his narcissist ego, with claims that griffith became inconsolable and reckless after guts left him only because he got mad that lost control of his 'tool', since he felt like he needed him to achieve what he wanted. obviously, griffith's egotistical nature is central to his character and plays a part in this as well, but it's still very clear that it's not just resentment that motivates him in the aftermath of guts leaving. as he stated, guts made him forget what he wanted to achieve at all, HIS DREAM, for a while - and when he thinks of that, he remembers the good times they shared, not the bad. he simply couldn't envision a future that didn't include guts, after a point in his life, and that feeling had nothing to do with any pragmatic assessment of the pros and cons of having a powerful fighter like him on his side, and he knew that. it was the depth of his attachment to guts that terrified him.

i feel that people tend to dance around the issue of griffith's emotions in general because they feel that acknowledging that he felt anything other than possessive entitlement to the members of his crew (or even just to guts) is almost the same as excusing his actions, but it's the opposite for me. believing that griffith was simply born incapable of feeling love and affection for anyone is as good as believing that he essentially had no true free will in the events that led to the eclipse; if they were all interchangeable pawns on his hand, how would he ever hesitate to sacrifice them when the time came? how could a sacrifice like this even hold any meaning, really? believing that is fully conceding that he was always destined to become femto no matter what, which runs counter to the theme of free will in the face of causality that drives the series. where is the tragedy in that? where is the betrayal? it hurts because it could, should have been different, and griffith made a terrible choice - but only because he had a choice to make in the first place.

[tryingtograspctrl]

THAT JUST WON’T DO: LOUIS AND LESTAT X BLACK PLUS SIZE READER

SUMMARY: Sometimes you felt insecure, unworthy of their love... oh how wrong you were.

Warning: Blood, insecurities, sexual themes, etc.

You were 25 when you received the dark gift. The vampire that made you wanted nothing to do with you, turning you and leaving you to fend for yourself, learning how to feed on your own, digging holes and burying yourself beneath dirt to avoid the sun, you couldn't afford the luxury of a coffin, the luxury of a home in general. You had nothing, no one, no where to go, you were lost...

Louis had stumbled upon you first, your thoughts loud, beating inside his head like a drum.

You were in a dark alley, knees pulled to your chest, rocking yourself back and forth attempting to self sooth.

You were filthy, your hair caked with dirt, your clothes the same. To anyone else you probably looked some homeless addict, but Louis knew exactly what this was, he could sense you, practically smell the fear on you, the pain, the hurt and he was pretty sure any other vampire in a 10 mile radius could too. He was surprised nobody else had gotten to you first.

"What are you doing out here all alone?" He spoke telepathically.

You jolted, backing away frightened as he approached you.

"I'm not going to hurt you." He put his hands up, stopping a few feet away from you.

You looked at him skeptically attempting to poke around in his mind but hitting a wall.

"I'm a little better at controlling my thoughts, i've been around a lot longer than you." He half smiled squatting in front of you.

"I'm alone because i don't have anyone." You looked up at him.

"What?" He raised a brow.

"My maker left me, i don't have anyone." You whispered.

He got a good look at your face, really soaking up your features, his eyes locking with yours. They were green, similar to his.

He took pity on you, your circumstances pulling at his heart strings.

"Come on, i know you're hungry. We'll get you fed and cleaned up." He extended his hand to you.

You accepted it hesitantly.

When Louis first brought you home Lestat was completely against it, he didn't like the idea of having to raise another vampire, not after everything that happened.

It took some time but he eventually warmed up to you, quickly taking a liking to you and showering you with affection and gifts, money was no object of course.

The three of you grew to love each other, eventually establishing a relationship and things were going good, until you got inside your head too much....

The sun had just begun to set and the three of you were lounging around the living room, Louis reading a book, Lestat messing around on the piano and you knitting a new project.

"Dove?" Lestat stands suddenly, taking a seat beside you on the couch and pulling you into his lap.

"Yes baby?" You glanced up at him for a moment.

"Me and Louis have a dinner to attend tonight, business matters. We were hoping you would join us.." He looked at you expectantly, fingers grazing your plump thigh.

"Of course i'll come, should i go get ready now?" You asked placing your knitting supplies down.

"Yes, i have an outfit in the bedroom for you." He pecked your cheek.

You made your way up the stairs, eyes landing on the gorgeous black gown that laid across the bed.

There were a matching set of heels and several pieces of jewelry that you were sure costed more than a house paired with it.

You walked over to the full length mirror, holding the dress to your body skeptically.

It was beautiful but you weren't sure how it was going to look on you.

You slipped out of your previous outfit, sliding the dress over your wide hips with ease. It fit perfectly of course, all your clothes did, Louis and Lestat made sure of that.

You turned to the side suddenly feeling self conscious.

It accentuated every curve, including your stomach which you hated.

Bloody tears began to pool in the corners of your eyes threatening to spill down your chubby cheeks.

You absolutely hated the way you looked and negative thoughts began to flood your mind.

Louis and Lestat were head over heels for you, you knew that, they made sure you knew that every single day but sometimes your insecurities got the best of you and tonight was just one of those nights.

They were both stunning, they had men and women falling at their feet and yet they chose you and you had absolutely no idea why. In your eyes you weren't worthy, you didn't deserve them.

"Y/n you almost ready?" Louis walked in adjusting his tie.

"Yeah." You quickly wiped your eyes trying to hide your tears.

"Aw baby what wrong?" He rushed over, pulling you into his embrace.

"This dress, i'm not sure about it, i don't think it's meant for me."

"And why in the world do you think that?" He spun you around getting a good look at you.

"I don't know, i just... i don't feel like i look my best today." You sniffled looking down at your feet.

"Hey." He grabbed you chin forcing you to look at him.

"You look stunning, where's all this coming from?" His eyes searched yours.

He didn't read your mind often out of respect for you but he just had to know what was bothering you.

"Oh baby, no, no no no, we aren't having any of that." He turned you toward the mirror, chin resting on your shoulder, arms wrapped around your middle.

"We picked you not only because you're beautiful on the outside." He spoke lowly trailing kisses down your shoulder.

"But because you're beautiful on the inside as well, a heart of gold, a mind so fascinating, so intriguing. There's no one else we'd rather be with." His lips met yours.

"Thank you Louis baby, i really needed that." You smiled up at him.

"Good, and don't you ever forget it you hear?" He poked your nose, accent slipping out.

"Yes sir." You purred.

"Be careful now, we might not make it to the dinner." He grabbed you by the waist pulling you flush against him.

"I swear you two are always the slowest." Lestat rambled to himself, half english, half french as he approached the bedroom.

He stopped in his tracks upon seeing you.

"You like it? Still gotta put the shoes on, it won't take long we'll be out in a sec." You fiddled with your thumbs, biting your nip nervously.

"I think we should cancel mon chér, yes?" He looked over at Louis as he readjusted his dress pants.

Wait a minute was he... was he aroused?

Your eyes widened at the realization and you and Louis couldn't help but laugh.

You were flattered.

"And why would we do that?" Louis raised a brow, smirking.

"We have more pressing matters to attend to, chérie how much do you like this dress?" Lestat walked over to you, fingers sinking into the fabric as if he was prepared to rip it.

"Hey! I don't think so, i just put this on." You slapped his hands away.

"We can get you a new one." He frowned.

"No sir, we're already late, let's go." You hurriedly put your shoes on.

He scowled helping you with your necklace.

You turned around grabbing his face, pulling him down to whisper in his ear.

"Be a good boy at this dinner and you'll get your dessert when we get back home, yeah?" You nibbled on his ear.

He shuddered nodding rapidly.

"Let's get this over with quickly." He rushed you and Louis out the door.

You laughed at his antics quickly grabbing your bag.

A/N - I’ve had so many story ideas for these two in my drafts but i was honestly scared to post them ahhhh. Anyways i hope this is received well cause i have a lot more itwv fics locked and loaded. Enjoy soft Lestat and Louis. 🌻

[nicromancytarot]

WHAT DOES YOUR PERSON WANT TO DO TO YOU? 18+ themes.

This is a general reading based on a collective of people. Take what resonates and leave what doesn’t. If you don’t feel the pile resonates with you, don’t be scared to try another, if it still doesn’t feel right, that’s ok! Maybe our energies aren’t as connected and my readings are not for you.

I do these strictly for fun and educational purposes. I don’t change for these readings and I do not fake readings. I would tell you the cards I got but I pull like 20-30 cards each reading and that just slightly a strenuous task to write them all down lmao.

PICK A CARD READING

I asked my spirit guides what the person you’re thinking about would do to you if they could, this was crazy so pick a picture to find out!

Pile 1 ———> Pile 2 ———> Pile 3

PILE 1

Bro’s fantasising, I put my music on shuffle and got this one song which triggered a memory of when I had a crush on this girl and sat in the car staring out of the window creating scenarios about her to the song lmao, so I feel as though your person may be on the same wavelength as me.

My entire body hurt during this reading, I was having full body channeling which was crazy for me, but as soon as I wrote down that my back and stomach were killing me, the pain went away, so your person may want to metaphorically break your back and possibly even get you pregnant, I was also randomly sweating like crazy so it’s gonna be steamy when they get to have you, I feel like you guys will be going for multiple rounds until both of you are absolutely exhausted and can’t take anymore.

Not going to lie, I see this being someone from the past? #Fuckexes. (Not literally.)

Firstly they may stalk your social media or keep tabs on you, I notice someone gasping at the others breasts if you have those, if they have breast than I’m pretty sure you love them, this is the type of conversation when someone can’t stop looking at the others breasts and is barely paying attention to the conversation.

They wanna watch you play with yourself, they may even want you to send them a video of you touching yourself.

For some of you I can see that they like butt-play, and they like having from behind cus they really enjoy your butt and shoulders, they may like to leave kisses or hickeys on the back of your shoulders. They may also only really see you in a room full of people romantically, but I do get senses that this person may have or might cheat if you were or get into a relationship.

PILE 2

They wanna wine and dine you prior to having sex with you, and I think that they also want to learn what you’re into and have a long winded conversation about both of your boundaries. They also really enjoy your breasts, or you enjoy theirs, I can see that either of you may want to leave a lot of kisses or hickeys there; maybe even for other people to see if you or they enjoy wearing low cut shirts and dresses.

They seem very gentle and worry about your pleasure more than their own, they do want to do some type of butt stuff with you. (What is it with the butt stuff today?) They want to eat the booty or go the full way with it.

At the end they want you to reward their hard efforts with some good ole’ head.

PILE 3

They want to offer a relationship before having sex with you, I do get the vibe that this could be a future spouse who picks you up after heartbreak as we have both the 4 of wands and the 3 of swords. This is the tile of sex that has you forgetting about all the bad things in your life and in the world.

There’s only one card in the spread where she’s not covering her stomach and it’s while she’s watching him count his money so you may only think about getting pregnant after you know they have enough money to sustain you and the baby (they do, they live a life of luxury.) Or you may show them that you have enough money before they think of allowing you to get them pregnant.

They want to take you from behind, finally we have a pile that doesn’t refer to butt-play (amen.) They’re pretty masculine so they would want to take over all of the masculine roles.

You may find them sneaking a glance at your breasts when you first meet.

[noira-l]

Just the Two of Us

chapter summary: there is nothing like arguing with your pretend ‘husband’, right?

pairing: gojo satoru x f!sorcerer reader

wc: 2,9k

warnings: swearing, argument, adult life is kinda hard, higher-ups are fools, angst from Megumi, mature themes, slight mentioning of sexual activity, spoilers (manga, anime, movie).

author's note: well, we began here. I hope you like it, and I can write you more. I'm still experimenting with style, and genre, so please be understanding. You're welcome to leave some notes and comments to help me grow :3 I would appriciate it.

s.masterlist

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏 '𝐄𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡'

You used to love summer.

Beautiful weather, long bike rides through the unknown corners of Tokyo, trips to arcades with Suguru, the beach with Shoko and Utahime. Just the good old days.

Now you hate summer.

You feel like a curse has fallen on every summer, starting with the star plassma vessel incident. All the worst things that are supposed to happend, happen in the summer.

And this summer was no exception.

Tsumiki, whose condition no one was able to recognise.

Megumi, who, due to her sister's situation and the stress of his lack of fully mastered powers, made him even more grumpy than ever.

And Satoru.

Oh fuck Satoru

You've never seen him so pissed off, higher-ups have never been kind to you, you've always known that. You've seen it yourself many times. But now? Suddenly now they have a problem with Megumi attending Jujutsu High?

The number of your visits to them has increased dramatically, which has only contributed to constant bickering over really unimportant trifles or hiding grudges where there were none. Your home turned into a veritable minefield filled with anger and bitterness. And every day you wondered what you were going to step on this time.

You knew that if things didn't improve, all those wounds and worries would seep deep into each of you, and you didn't want that.

Even though your marriage only existed on paper, you genuinely genuinely cared for him. And he cared for you.

After Suguru left you didn't think anyone would be able to understand what you were feeling, Satoru proved you otherwise. You were both experiencing the same thing, it brought you together in a way, enough to open up between you and form an alliance of sorts that no matter what fate brought your way, you would deal with it together.

The foundations of a perfect marriage? You laughed under your breath. If this marriage was still made for purposes other than convenience in paperwork and ease of custody. You have never had a wedding, you don't even wear rings, you don't even act like a couple. You are both just good friends who grew up to become good parents. Always complementing each other. At least you tried.

The beginnings were difficult, that's a fact, you were both still young at the time, you didn't know how to do certain things, and raising 2 children was never part of the Jujutsu High education programme.

When you graduated, you both left school with broken hearts, old hurts and the hope that your dream of a better future for the young would become a reality. There was almost no talk of romantic feelings.

Almost.

On the day of your fifth wedding anniversary, out of boredom and slight compulsion, because you should at least celebrate the round anniversaries of your arrangement, you opened the sake that Nanamin had bought you for your first anniversary. As a conpensation for saving him from death on that day, which was technically supposed to be free for you. Both of you ended up on the couch, after drinking the entire bottle, fucking like the horny teenagers you still were somewhere deep inside. Satoru never had a strong head. Both of you, in the morning after a strong moral and general hangover, decided that it was better not to return to this situation and just forget about it. As far as this situation can be called a romantic feeling. Although you wouldn't call it that.

Satoru did not know the concept of personal space. And everyone who knew him was able to confirm this. Interestingly, you were the only one who was able to get close to his real personal space. Sleeping in the same bed with you for so many years, he had learned to reflexively switch off his infinity and cuddle with you in his sleep. At first the single bed was because you couldn't afford more than one, Satoru wasn't yet the head of the clan at the time and thus didn't have access to this sizeable fortune. Over time you just got used to it and the idea of sleeping separately seemed strange to you.

You caught yourself dreaming of a bed and his warm arms after another hard mission. You know he had the same thoughts coming really late at night, just to undress himself, and hug into you.

You both crawled into your routines. You've built what you dare to call 'home' on these foundations.

It was not perfect, the life of a jujutsu sorcerer was never strewn with roses or easy decisions but this 'home' was yours. You knew it along with him. And you were proud of what you had achieved together.

You didn't want all that had been built up with your hard work to be undone by one really hard summer. You didn't yet know how you were going to resolve the situation and how to talk to Satoru about it, but one thing you were sure of - you weren't going to give up.

There really is something wrong with this time of year, you sighed as you entered the flat you were renting.

"I'm back." you said rather loudly, you knew Megumi should be home at this hour. You went to the kitchen, put away the shopping nets you had made earlier and began to arrange the goods you had bought, leaving only what would serve for tonight's dinner. You took a small box of strawberry mochi out of the nets, you knew they had been going around Satoru's head lately. You placed them on the kitchen counter, adding a small heart sticker. For some strange reason, everyone in the household liked how you added those colourful stickers, even Megumi loved them, though he wouldn't admit it like Tsumiki did.

My little Tsumiki.

You were angry with yourself, unable to recognise what had actually happened to her and why it had happened so suddenly. You were angry that no one could recognise it. The amount of time you spent guessing, trying to recognise and the trial and error method, exceeded the numbers you knew. You tried, but it wasn't enough. You blamed yourself in advance for not defending her against it.

"What's for dinner today? I'm starving honestly~" you heard a voice behind you and turned around.

"Oh, Satoru, I wasn't expecting you so early. How was the mission?" you had already started preparing today's dinner. Satoru sat down at the kitchen island, not far from you.

"Can we not talk about this shit?" he sighed playing with some dark-haired boy's pencil.

oh…it's bad, isn't it?

"We can." you replied trying to think of something quick to talk to him about. "I bought you something." you pointed towards a small box. The white-haired man just glanced in that direction and a smile dawned on that face again.

"Aww~ Is that for me?" he reached for the casket with his long hand and opened the lid. "Did I mention you're the best wife in the world?" his giggle would be heard from down the street.

Of course Satoru loved sweets, especially the ones you bought him, because you always took care when choosing them, not buying just anything, but really what he liked.

"Sometimes you mention it to me." you said, throwing all the ingredients into the pans.

"I should to it more often then," he said with his mouth stuffed with one of the mochi. The sight of his satisfied face really filled you with small happiness.

"Where's Megumi?" you asked while stirring the contents of the pan.

The strongest merely sighed.

"I asked you to avoid difficult topics" his face was again filled with another mochi from the box.

You walked over to him and took the box from him.

"Why? You're so cruel, you know?" he merely asked pouting at the sight of you taking his joy.

"You'll get the rest of the packaging, after the meal." you stressed, and he continued to pout. You put the box back in the cupboard

"So, where's Megumi?" you asked a second time, pressing for him to answer you.

"You know how young people are today, they just leave without asking, without saying anything to anyone" now your sigh was overwhelming.

"You two had a fight, didn't you?"

"Ayay, I wouldn't call it a fight, more of a youthful rebellion on his part, you've been seeing this kind of behaviour more and more lately. You know, he's maturing. Aren't you proud?" you grabbed your temples where am I going to find him now?

"And how long ago he went to his…" you looked at him seriously "…'youthful rebellion'?"

Satoru glanced at his watch "Hmm…. Like 3 hours ago?" your eyes were the size of coins "But I'm not sure." he added in wonderment

You're going crazy here.

"And you allowed him to have these rebelions at this hour?" Satoru merely shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know what you mean, if he wants to go out then let him go out, he is capable of defending himself, after all he has unlocked to some extent his powers-"

"But not as much as we would like" you sighed "not as much as he would like." you vigorously stirred the contents of the pan, trying to pour all your anger into it so that it wouldn't accidentally be shown in words.

"You're being dramatic, it's only true to a certain extent. He has more potential than anyone else so far, I believe in him…. Which doesn't mean he's not a little weak right now." you froze, stopping the wooden spoon you used to turn things in the pan. Your own memories flowed into your head like water.

He had said something like that to you too. When you were still in high school, he could, like a complete asshole, ridicule you for hours and hours, about how you had no powers at all and were weak. You always ended up then in Suguru's arms, who was probably the only one who seemed to know what you were up against in those moments.

As it turned out, his derision found no cover in reality when one morning, after Suguru had left and after your arrangements had been made, you flashed the same eyes at him that he has, explaining to him why he could not use his techniques at that moment. The shock and disbelief that appeared on his face was payment enough, for the lack of apology on his part (for which you are still slightly angry) and for all the mockery you have bravely endured over the years.

You know what it's like to feel weak. You know what it's like when no one believes in you, when you yourself want to give up on yourself, trying to convince yourself that what everyone around you is saying is not true. You know how much hardship and effort goes into not just training, but convincing yourself that you are worth something. You don't want Megumi to ever experience the same sense of powerlessness that you had to endure. Especially not from the same person you had to endure it from.

"Did you tell him that?" you asked, glancing over your shoulder at him, trying to control yourself.

"What?" he asked still playing with the pencil in his hand.

"That he's weak." you must have said it really threateningly because Satoru's face immediately changed expression, you were able to see it right away despite his bandages.

"I didn't necessarily use those words." he said moving his gaze from your face to the pencil.

You took the frying pan off the fire and gave the pot of water in its place.

You sighed gathering in yourself not to do anything stupid today, although he really asked for it.

"You can't spill such words right and left. Not you in particular. " you said it as calmly as you could, turning towards him.

"I don't see the problem. I told the truth, besides I also stated the fact that he has potenc-"

"Of course everyone for you is weak, Gojo" he knew that when you addressed him by his last name, something was wrong or he fucked something up. "Which doesn't mean that everyone wants to hear about this fact. Do you realize what he's going through?" you asked the question into the ether, after a second adding "Well, yes, of course you don't, you've always been the strongest after all." The stupidity of your statement was killing you. You were able to understand his lack of competence in identifying with those weaker than himself, what you were not able to accept was how he was flaunting it.

"You are not weak." he said this while looking at you intensely.

"And after how long did you find that out? You oppressed me for years. It only changed when I showed you my technique." why do you sound disappointed?

Satoru would be lying if he said that his respect and view of you did not change after you showed him your powers.

"You know the higher-ups don't want to think about letting him go to school, and I don't understand why at this point in time you have to conclude that he is weak."

"Just not this topic, again~ We were already at such a family atmosphere." White-haired growled sighing, squirming in his chair

"What do you mean, I was the one who had to defend him from them again today-" you crossed your arms

"You talk as if I didn't do it myself yesterday" he growled, his voice rising "They keep sending me like an errand dog, on every fucked up mission they can think of, and I do it all without a moment's rest. Today I refused to meet with them, I'm shirking everything I can. I'm sick of listening to old idiots who care about rules that have long since ceased to apply. And! Of course the Zen'in clan has a problem with everything."

"As if your clan was so conciliatory.." you snarked with a wince.

"And what's that supposed to mean?" he indignantly replied.

"I met your mother today and she made it clear that she was 'expecting a grandchild' " you turned quickly to throw things into the pot of boiling water, you could see Satoru grabbing his head "She stated that 'it's my duty as your spouse', it's enough for her that she covered herself in shame when our secret wedding came to light. It surprises me that she is eager to make such statements, not being the head of the clan and still having a problem about what was almost eight years ago."

"Don't worry about it, I'll call her out." Satoru sighed. Despite the fact that you were standing with your back to him now, you could feel his gaze on you.

You needed a break. A break from the curses, the higher-ups, the arguments and the flurry of responsibilities. You knew Satoru needed one too. You stood there in thought, leaning against the countertop and looking at the pot with its boiling contents, when unexpectedly you felt a touch on your waist.

You looked up to see his silhouette pressed against your back. "I'm not the best at words or expressing feelings, as you've become familiar with more than once.." he laid his head on your shoulder "but I don't want you to feel like shit, these last few weeks are probably making you tired too."

Gojo was known for not respecting other people's personal space, this time he used it in a good way. You turned to him and snuggled into his warm torso. He held you in his arms for a few moments, stroking your hair and inhaling the scent of your perfume that he, himself had bought you for Christmas. He casually turned off the cooker, when he decided that what you had thrown into the pot, had cooked.

You didn't even know you needed it. His uniform completely smelled of him, despite the fact that you picked it up from the laundry literally yesterday.

It's funny how much his smell started to be associated with safety for you. Maybe it was because of that one mission where he held you the whole time in his arms when you almost died, or maybe it was just out of habit and years spent with him. You'd swear, you could fall asleep here and forget all your worries.

The sound of your burbling stomach snapped you out of this bliss. You looked at each other, you with an embarrassed face and he with an amused smile.

"It's going to be all right, we'll work something out, as always." he said, kissing you on the forehead. You didn't expect such a gesture from him. He guessed it from your face as he took his hands off your waist, moving away from you and putting his hands back, this time on your shoulders.

"Now let's eat something, you're not the only one who's starving." he said then turned on his heel and headed to his previously occupied seat.

"Find Megumi first, then you'll get your portion." you said and he snorted with laughter "Are you ordering me around?" that smile of his lead you to many things.

"No, I'm giving you a challenge, if you find him quickly your dinner won't get cold." you waved your spoon at him lightly.

His smile only deepened "I can take orders like that every day~" he said then immediately disappeared behind the wall, leaving you alone.

© noira-l 2024 | all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, modify, or redistirbute my work without permission.

[camilledlc]

I think the fact that Careless Whisper is Vanessa and Wade's songs and Iris is Logan and Wade's is very poetic and holds a lot of meaning. Let me explain:

Careless Whisper is all about a relationship ending, the longing for this person you won't ever have again and full of regrets. It's a song about a love that will never come back ("sad good-byes", "now that you're gone", etc). I also think the song deeply explains their relationship (Vanessa/Wade) in general.

Wade is feeling very insecure about his relationship in general, knowing that he hurts Vanessa (2nd movie), that staying with her is kind of selfish but yet he doesn't want to let her go ("I feel so unsure", "there's no comfort in the truth / pain is all you find", "guilty feet"). Besides, the lyrics : "we'd hurt each other with the things we'd want to say" is very much them when Vanessa breaks up with him in DP3. Realistically, he knows that "it's better this way", because he isn't good enough for her in his mind. He hurts her and he doesn't matter enough. He knows the relationship have to end.

Yet, he is still very much desperate for her love, and can't seem to let her go, like seen in the 3rd movie. He wants her back ("Please stay", "Was what I did so wrong, so wrong / That you had to leave me alone?"), because he feels as if she's his one true love. No one has ever had him like this (shameless So High School reference). She felt like his soulmate, and losing her is losing this kind of love that you only find once in your life, it's like losing his soulmate. That's why he's "never gonna dance again / The way [he] danced with [her]". And the song adds "Never without your love", and I think it really represents his vision. He can't love again, and entirely be himself again if it isn't for/with Vanessa's love. She was the good thing in him, his one true love, and now he's wondering if he's ever gonna be able to have a love like this again ("But now, who's gonna dance with me?").

Now, Deadpool and Wolverine introduces Logan in the mix, and one of the main song in the movie is Iris. I think it represents perfectly Wade's state of mind during the movie, and his relationship with Logan. I do believe it's to be taken more from Logan's perspective, but the general theme of it is the same.

This song is a love song, yet very melancholic and tainted with sadness. It is very repetitive, and the singer already seems to know how things will play out. I think it puts us in the mindset of Wade, who had a previous relationship that seemed doomed because it would never work with who he is as a person and as a hero. He realizes that, and that a relationship with him can't last ("When everything's made to be broken", "And sooner or later, it's over"). Besides, a lots of other lyrics feels like they could refer to him feeling generally insecure about himself and who he is. He is aware that he is not necessarily a good person, he often lies to mask the truth about his feelings ("the moment of truth in your lies"). He is prompt to annoy, and attack, and doesn't mind being attacked back. He always puts himself in danger, and I think that the lyrics "you bleed just to know, you're alive" could explain why very well. And funnily enough, just before the song says : "When everything feels like the movies" and we all know that Wade knows he's in one.

So I think that we have a Wade that is deeply insecure about himself cause he knows he isn't necessarily a good person, he endangers himself and others constantly, and he can't be too surrounded by loved ones because he's gonna hurt them or put them in danger by his existence alone. He can't love and hold onto love. Yet, he wants someone to truly know who he is and to appreciate him for him ("I just want you to know who I am"). He is willing to be known by Logan during the movie, opening up to him. He always hides behind a mask, and symbolically, it's a way to keep people out. In the comics, it is even said that his scars causes him to often be left out of public spaces ; and in the first movie, he refused to go back to his girlfriend because of them, shutting her out too. Its like the lyrics : "And I don't want the world to see me / 'Cause I don't think that they'd understand", which can be read both literally because of his scars and metaphorically because of his personality, his tendencies to be 'weird' and 'annoying' as he talks and talks and breaks the fourth wall. Yet, he shows his face without a mask to Logan during the important moments, and he also shows him his true self. He wants Logan to know who he really is.

So, despite being broken down and knowing how and why his previous relationship ended, thinking that this one will have the same fate, Wade just wants to be known and seen by Logan, to be loved for who he is.

And I think Logan do, and he very much relate to the first part of the song. From his reality, he betrayed everyone he loved. He has no real home to back to, nothing to live for. This is why he is willing to give up everything to let Wade alive ("And I'd give up forever to touch you"). He wants to sacrifice himself not only because it's what hero do, but also because Wade doesn't deserve to die. Wade is the one who made him proud to wear this suit again, like shown in his flashbacks at the end ("You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be"). Then, they both go to save the world together, and they look in each other's eyes like nothing else exist ("And all I can taste is this moment / And all I can breathe is your life"). After years of being plagued by the voices of his friends, in this moment, he can't hear them anymore because all that exist is Wade and him saving the world, and his memories of Wade giving him a life again. He genuinely appreciates Wade for who he is and what is done, even staying with Wade in his universe and in his home ("And I don't wanna go home right now", "I just don't wanna miss you tonight").

In conclusion, Careless Whisper represents Wade's love for Vanessa, and how despite them having to break up, he never thought he could love someone else again. Yet, with Iris, we know that Wade is still insecure and unsure about it all, but is willing to open up for love again, to be loved by Logan.

(And last detail because i really wanted to include it but it was already very long, I like how the sentence "And you can't fight the tears that ain't coming" reflects how Wade was never really letting himself live truthfully. He never completely acknowledged his own emotions, and so he was spiralling and battling within himself but never could get out of this as long as he wasn't truthful about his feelings towards his need to matter. But in the end, eventually, he realizes that he matters, and there are no more tears to fight).

[flawseer]

Mail Call #3

Answering comments from @void-the-bear @railway-lands @keabirb @ilikebookssomuch @chezgorman @cartoons-everywhere @dragonra305

Please don't hurt me. I have glasses.

Thank you, to all of you. It makes me genuinely happy to know that I'm able to put something into this world that other people can enjoy. I think this is a great setting that is fun to add to.

Doing a Wings of Fire-themed run of this Smaugust challenge has been very interesting and it's good that the result appears to be well-received. It's not always been easy, I'm actually getting quite exhausted having to post content on a strict schedule like this. But it is worth doing if it makes people happy.

Relating to my comment on this post. I probably will do it eventually, along with some other ideas I had that didn't fit in. But it won't happen while Smaugust is still going, as I am already skirting the limits of what I am physically capable of right now.

Ahh... hm... This is the question that has toppled mountains and started wars. You're going to get hit squads sent after me.

Well, there is the big one, of course. Qibli/Winter. They have such wonderful chemistry whenever they are in a scene together (with one pretty upsetting exception). And Qibli is always teasing him about being his destiny and the two of them getting married, so I think there is some attraction there.

Then uh... I used to feel completely ambivalent about this one, but Starflight/Fatespeaker has really grown on me over time. There's a lot of interesting potential there that doesn't really make it into the story. I need to make a long-winded post about Fatespeaker one day.

Blaze/Glacier is another one that could be cute. I think putting a repressed Icewing together with a highly eccentric and rambunctious Sandwing is going to be a winning combination most of the time. Or well, I guess I should say "could have been cute", since Glacier had to die for the plot, in a very wretched and infuriating way too.

There are a couple more that I think have their moments or could be interesting in one way or another. Some of them even contradicting or overlapping each other. Listing all of them would probably be a bit excessive.

Oh yeah, and I think Sunny is ace.

Ah, a question that'll make me put someone else's favorite character at the bottom of a preference list... After the shipping question I'm starting to fear for my life now.

Let me preface this by clarifying that I generally like all of the DoD. There are some characters in this setting that I loathe and wish they would exit the story, and the arc 1 protagonists are nowhere near that. So being ranked low here translates to me saying "Yeah, they're okay, room for improvement", not "wow, they're the WORST!"

Okay whatever, let's get down to it.

#1 - Sunny

That one's easy, I mean, just look at the pinned post on this blog.

Sunny is so wonderful and charming and perfect in every conceivable way, she is one of my six all-time favorite characters. She is the flower that blooms in the bitter desert. A lot of people may perceive her as this demure and innocent character who is always happy and friendly, and oblivious to the suffering around her. Nah, Sunny knows exactly what is going on. She is keenly aware of all the bloodshed, suffering, and toxicity that unfolds in the world around her. When she remains optimistic and forgiving in the face of darkness, that is not her being meek or passive, it's her steadfastly refusing to let that darkness into herself. She is actively embodying the change she wants to see in the world, even when it hurts her or gets her taken advantage of, because that is what she believes in and the future she will create.

That's pretty inspiring. I wish I had that kind of inner strength.

Also, she is not weak. While she's not a powerhouse scrapper like Tsunami or an invincible stack of bricks like Clay, Sunny strikes quickly and without hesitation when her friends are in danger, and can be deviously clever. This is often overlooked, but she is--to my knowledge--the only character to land an attack on Morrowseer that comes close to actually hurting him.

Well... you got me rambling about Sunny. Let's go through the others more briskly.

#2 - Starflight

I like Starflight a lot. Unfortunately the story really doesn't. He is like, the unluckiest character by far. I don't know what he did to deserve the never-ending cavalcade of misfortune that gets shoveled in his direction throughout all three arcs. Like, it never ends. A couple of friends and I came together and we jokingly called our group the "Starflight Protection Foundation", because someone needs to stage an intervention. Like, wrap him in a cozy sweater and buy him hot chocolate or something. Heaven help this poor man.

He's another one of my favorites.

#3 - Glory

Glory is really cool; I vibe with the "unchosen hero spurned by destiny" theme. She goes through her life and is constantly told "No, you don't have a special destiny. You're the fifth wheel. You are worthless and unimportant". Though she struggles with the constant abuse and devaluation, she eventually finds a way to turn it into strength and declare that the only value that matters is the one she gives to herself.

I really wish the story had NOT made her turn out to be a secret princess. "I was born without destiny, so I'm making my own" is a so much more satisfying character trajectory than "Oh, don't worry. You were born special after all, you just didn't know about it".

So yeah, I kind of tend to put that "secret princess" plot twist on the shelf when I think about Glory, and prefer to think that she managed to sway Grandeur with her skill and determination, rather than a random blood link.

#4 - Clay

Clay is very lovable. He is like the emotional bedrock of the group and acts as a stabilizing force that pairs well with all of the other arc 1 protagonists. He pretty much resolves all of his baggage in the first book and becomes content and steady. That is very good for him, but unfortunately this also kind of turns him into just some dude for the following four books.

Which is fine, it is good for the other characters to have someone behind them who loves them and helps them up when they stumble. It just makes it difficult for Clay to shine on his own.

#5 - Tsunami

Okay, so, Tsunami. I actually like her a lot in arc 1. She's bringing an interesting kind of energy to the group that is like, half-supportive and half-detrimental. Very chaotic. She also has to contend with some heavy stuff; everything to do with her father and the complications in her family life. It's very interesting. Lots of places to go with that.

Arc 2 Tsunami though, really grinds my gears. She regresses into this kind of juvenile, immature personality that is just pointlessly abrasive and confrontational. She acts really condescendingly towards Peril-- despite the latter having saved Clay's life AND it being really important to Clay that her staying at JMA works out well. Her borderline sabotaging this effort by making Peril feel unwelcome seems very dismissive towards Clay's feelings. It also doesn't help that she is the most outspoken about her loathing of Nightwing mindreading and prophecies, which drives Moonwatcher further into her emotional shell and makes things more complicated.

Okay, I have to reiterate: I don't dislike Tsunami. I just think her character arc is incomplete. It feels like she is stuck in arrested development while at JMA. She's mostly running around yelling at people, when she really should be thinking about what to do about Queen Coral, and how to get custody of her siblings. Her sister Anemone is carrying emotional scars from how the Queen has kept her leashed like a dog for her entire life, a process that is now happening to Auklet, even to this day. And then there's the 30 something children who have never known parental love for a day in their life and their mother can't remember the names of.

Someone's gotta step in and save these kids. Or like, at least start vaguely thinking about it.

Turtle???

Hmm....

...

Moose!

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Catch of the Eye | Azriel x Hippy!Reader

Summary: After you moved into Velaris, your bright demeanor and clothing seemed to demand Azriel’s attention, as well as the rumors of the Princess of Autumn’s disappearance.

Word Count: ~ 800

Warnings: None!

A/N: This request had me cracking up while writing it bc the idea of a hippy bamboozling az into silence is so funny to me, hope you enjoy <3

Requests are open!

Ever since Azriel had met you, since you’d moved from Autumn Court, you always managed to utterly flabbergast him in ways that shouldn’t be possible for the stoic shadowsinger.

It had all started when he’d noticed the bright, almost obnoxious clothing you always had. Some weren’t bad, like the jeans you would wear with bright floral patterns accenting them, or the flowery shirts or skirts you’d wear.

Your fashion sense was the complete opposite of his, and since you had moved to Velaris under his suggestion, he got to see your wacky outfits every day.

Sandals were a common choice, not to mention warm-toned clothes, cardigans, and knitted tops. The earrings you wore were nothing like he’d seen before, not even trying to be elegant or beautiful, just giving an extra pop of color and flare to your outfit.

It fascinated him.

He’d always seen proper noble women trying to be beautiful or elegant or alluring, but you weren’t that at all. You were just…yourself. You didn’t care about what others thought, you were a rule unto your own law. You were just so out there, sticking out like a sore thumb, but in a good way.

Your bright clothes and personality became a comforting sight for him amongst the dark color theme of Night Court, with most residents opting for black.

And your opinions?

Completely outrageous. But also funny.

Like when you rambled on about how Fae should need a license to winnow, to ensure that they weren’t endangering themselves or others if their skills weren’t good enough. Or how any winged Fae should also need licenses, for the same reason.

He will never forget the time that you told Rhysand to his face on one of your first few times meeting his family that if Velaris was already peaceful and perfect, why not expand that principle to Hewn City, too?

And when he’d tried to explain that the people of Hewn City were too stubborn and hateful for that, you’d just called his reasoning “stupid” and an “excuse” because he just wanted to live in his little paradise city and not deal with the problems of the Court.

That had frazzled Rhys.

In fact, you frazzled almost everyone in the Inner Circle. Except Cassian. He seemed to find you extremely entertaining. You’d nearly given some of them a heart attack, especially since your fiery red hair and hazel eyes oddly resembled the Princess of Autumn, who hadn’t made a public appearance in months, and some people were getting suspicious.

Once getting over the initial hurdle of them adjusting to you, Feyre invited you to her art studio, and when Azriel got there (he’d volunteered to help with some of the paints since he didn’t have any missions that week) he saw you, an absolute mess of paint, helping all the children. You were surprisingly good at it, knowing just what colors to mix for them, giving them what they needed and when, and generally working well with Feyre even if all your paintings were bright and usually neon, and hurt his eyes a bit if he looked too long.

“You’re good with them.”

He spoke to you as he walked down the street, you alongside him as you finally left her painting studio.

“I’ve handled kids before, they’re pretty fun usually.”

He raised a brow at that.

“Did you…babysit, or something?”

He asked, the mental image of you watching and caring for a child for an extended period of time not exactly a great one.

“No, I helped raise my little brother. He was always a more mellow kid, but he had a tongue on him, that was for sure. I oughta visit Luci sometime soon.”

He listened. You’d never mentioned brothers before, or any family at all, really. It didn’t help his suspicions.

“‘Luci’ is an odd name for a boy.”

He commented dryly, and you, clearly not catching onto his sarcasm, as you rarely did, only laughed.

“Boys can be named whatever, but his full name’s Lucien.”

He stopped walking at that, and you continued, oblivious to it until he jogged to catch up.

“You’re Lucien’s sister? As in Lucien Vanserra?”

He asked in a quiet but surprised tone. You only nodded, grinning at him in that lazy, relaxed manner you always had.

“Our secret!”

You declared, before prancing off to go look at the bright fabrics of your favorite salesmen in Velaris. You’d already befriended more than half of the people there, and they all seemed to like you.

Cauldron help anyone who befriended you, and definitely help the shadowsinger stuck as your mate for eternity.

[caorann8]

Grief in Dawntrail

Alrighty, here are my thoughts as a funeral director having finished Dawntrail. Obviously spoilers under the cut.

When someone says a game feels like work, that’s normally a bad thing. In this case it’s not. Two of Dawntrail’s themes are community/their different cultures and grief and while they’re explored more separately in the two halves of the story they are intrinsically linked. Funerals at their core are about remembering the person who’s died and coming together to support each other and remember the person. Even with the decline of “traditional” funerals, people who are just having a cremation and nothing else from the funeral home often say they’ll have something at home with their friends and family.

This is why Sphene pissed me off from the start. With the Yok Huy we see a beautiful funeral tradition. The body may return to the mountains but their legacy will always remain for their community to read and remember over and over again, even for future generations. Meanwhile Sphene echo’s the same message, “You will never die so long as you’re remembered” but then removes the memories as a misguided attempt to protect her people. They aren’t remembered, they’re actively forgotten by their entire community until those people die too.

Death and grief are complicated things. Something we learn in school is there are no stages as most people think. It’s a roller coaster that goes forward and back, has good days and bad days, and will sometimes crop up years later. What lessens it is allowing yourself to process it, and support from friends/family/community helps immensely. By denying them these memories, Sphene denies them growth and stronger bonds. A friend of mine said the people of Alexandria wouldn’t survive the Final Days and I agree. We even see this in the WoL! How many times are we able to quote Haurchefant or other characters who have died but made an impact on our journey? Even Emet-Selch asks us to remember them. The ancient’s love, their follies, the good and bad. While grief hurts in so many different ways, we often come out on the other side better, whether that be with new tools, new outlooks, or even just relief that the person isn’t suffering.

And this doesn’t just apply to people we care for. Look at the death of Zoraal Ja. Wuk Lamat hated him and he’d abandoned Gulool Ja. Regret or joy that it’s over are valid feelings . Both grieved in their own ways and had support to work through it. The fact that they were actively told to take a break to process everything, both after his death and after the attack on Tullioyal, was a beautiful touch. Grief is exhausting after all.

Finally, I want to talk about my experience going through Living Memory. That’s the part that truly felt like my work. Just sitting and listening to people say their final goodbyes to their loved ones. Some crying, some laughing at good memories, some angry, but all taking that moment. I didn’t cry really (except Cahcuia, that one got me), I got choked up and there was a heaviness for a lot of it, but there’s a joy in knowing nothing’s left unsaid. Even deleting the areas didn’t affect me much. They each got their last hurrah, like a eulogy at a service or stories shared over a meal. Plus the knowledge that reincarnation exists in FFXIV means they’ll be able to enjoy life again.

At the end of the day grief, in all its forms from the end of relationships, to what could’ve been, to death of a loved one, shouldn’t be swept under a rug. When people find out I’m a funeral director I often get asked if it’s “depressing with all the crying” and I always reply that I hear laughter coming from visitation rooms more often than tears.

[santacoppelia]

Just a little something about 15th, 14th and healing.

There was this one thing that has been living rent free in my head since I watched The Giggle on Saturday. Well, a lot of things, really, but...

When 15th hugged 14th for the first time... It hit an emotional chord really hard.

This made me think of all the times that my therapist insisted on me loving and understanding my past self (and how good it finally felt when I was able to accept that chubby, weird, obsessive, anxious little person I was as a child and a teenager... And I accepted all the anger and fear and hurt they had inside, and how much it still drove my adult self).

Also reminded me of a common theme on conversations, about how younger generations are doing the "emotional healing" for all the generational trauma that previous generations never knew how to process. How younger generations are addressing and working on what older siblings, parents and grandparents tried so hard not to see, but that were marking the life of every generation.

And... the main idea it left stuck in my emotional fridge was "make sure to be the adult you needed when you were younger". That's a truism I'm pretty sure I found here a long time ago, or on an IG post, one of those things that sound so "self help" that it is almost embarrassing to admit how helpful you find them when they actually come true (happened to me).

That hug is all of these things, on a Timelord scale.

Ncuti is so perfect to be the Doctor Who who finally addressed the trauma, was ready to be present for all his past selves (not only in the heroic way, as was in the 50th Anniversary Special, but emotionally too), accepts all of the past... And lets it heal.

15th will be so fresh and ready to run new adventures. This hug was the most stellar presentation he could have received... And I'm so ready to see him run, have fun, be cheeky and smart and compassionate and THE MOST STYLISH EVER.

Go on, Doctor. Heal and be happy. We all deserve it, and you've reminded us all about it.

[secret-subject]

I feel like you have done a video about this but how does hypnokink fit into asexuality

So I can't answer this in general but let me talk about my own asexuality and hypnosis.

When I was 18 I was extremely frustrated with the feeling of not being able to have sex. All my friends were "normal" and they were fine to do it but for some reason I could not. It freaked me out, it hurt, it was just something I couldn't fathom. I also have touch sensitivity, basically if someone touches my skin in a certain way it feels like I'm being tickled and it's the worst feeling in the world and hard to handle. But through hypnosis kink I could explore something that was unlike anything else.

Kink for me is an intimate act. It's not sex per say but it's a connection unlike anything else. As I've now realized my feelings from back then were from my asexuality, and now when I'm doing hypnosis on either side of the watch (because I used to switch) it's like all that fades away and I can just be me. All that stuff that goes on with my hesitation to talk about what I want goes away and my touch sensitivity sometimes will also fade with it or it will get a ton worse which is a whole other thing and then I'll have to talk about it and tap out of the scene. But back in the day I did a LOT of online play which for me audio files and online play gave me that barrier where touch wasn't important and imagined touch works really good on me.

I do make sexy hypnosis and people ask me often how I can do that since I've never had traditional sex. I have a great imagination. I still engage with sexuality and erotica. I still engage with sexy hypnosis, I just don't do sex.

Now again, everyone is different. Someone else's comfort with sexual themes as an asexual might be different to mine so best thing to do if your partner or you are ace and wanting to engage in hypnokink is to keep communication open and be honest.

[peachesofteal]

I love me some angst and this baby trapped au is sustaining me!! But I gotta ask… what happens if darling just haves the baby then up and leaves in the middle of night?? Leaving Simon and Johnny to raise this baby they forced on her?? Or even worse (and forgive me for this) she dies in childbirth and then they finally have their baby but no darling…. They’re probably having some regrets about lying to her lol

This au has invaded my life and I can’t stop thinking about it. I’m hooked ❤️🪝

SEEK HELP. But don't, because I love you. And this.

Baby trap au / Darling left after discovering her tampered birth control 18+ Mature themes. Character death. Childbirth. Hurt absolutely no comfort.

It starts with the twinge in the lower part of your belly, off to the left side. You had woken up with it, on top of your usual sore back and stiff muscles, the everyday occurrences that seemed plague you consistently since the start of your third trimester. You were always hot, always tired, always crampy, grumpy, and generally... miserable.

You didn't mean to be, but being pregnant was a hardship in so many ways, and being pregnant with no one to help you, was even harder. It took its toll. Emotionally. Mentally. Physically. And now, by the ninth month... you were just so ready to be done with it.

You hadn't seen or talked to the guys since the day you walked out, the day you found that fucked up piece of foil, the day you realized what they did, and you left. You hated them for it. Hated them, for taking away your choice. Hated them, for trying to control your body. Hated them, for removing your autonomy.

At night, when you laid down to sleep, it was impossible not to feel other things, the longing, the loneliness, the love, that still lived in your heart for them, against all odds, the ache of missing them growing in your soul as your baby grew each month.

You were in an impossible situation. One you didn't know what do with it.

But today, you were preoccupied with the twinge. The twinge, that had bloomed into a full spasm of muscles across your belly, the twinge that had your boss insisting you go to hospital as soon as possible.

"Let us call an ambulance. I've had four kids! I know labor when I see it." She had hemmed and hawed while you told her it wasn't necessary, that you weren't even in active labor yet, and that you still felt totally okay.

"I'm fine." you had reassured her. "Walking is good for labor right? I'm just going to walk the three blocks and be fine."

Six hours later, you're in a bed with your legs in a pair of stirrups with a nurse by your side, holding your hand as your contractions get closer and closer, your body seizing and cramping with pain through each one, the sting getting worse and worse as the minutes tick on.

You're doing this. You're having a baby. Alone.

The realization shocks you, startles you into a moment of weird, zen like reflection, like everything is moving in slow motion around you, like nothing is progressing as you think about the fact that the guys aren't actually here, that you never did call them, that you never did tell them that you wanted to forgive them one day. That you wanted to talk to them. See them again.

That you wanted them to be here with you, for this, to see the birth of their daughter.

Another contraction rips through you and steals your breath, and you faintly hear the nurse telling you breathe while your body locks up in unmeasurable pain. Something prods between you legs, and then there's a voice saying you're fully dilated, and ready to push.

Ready? Now?

No. No... you can't. It's too fast. They're not here. They need to be here. You have to call them.

"Oh sweetheart, don't cry." The nurse speaks softly to you, but you can't help it. You want them. They were supposed to be here. They were supposed to be ones holding your hand, helping you, cutting the cord.

"We're going to push on the next contraction, okay?" Your doctor tells you, but you shake your head vehemently.

"No. I want my partners." you sob, and your nurse makes a sympathetic noise, while stroking some hair out of your face.

"You have to push." The nurse encourages, and pain streaks across your belly, sharp and insistent, forcing you to gasp for more air. "Ready? Push!" She tries to coach you, but you can't do it, can't even move, your body just writhing through the pain as your head spins and you pant. Your doctor says your name, kindly but somewhat stern after the contraction passes, and you moan.

"This baby is coming. You have to push." She says, and you know she's right, but you just can't get there in your mind, unable to consider the idea of her being born without Johnny or Simon being here.

"I want them." you sob, another spasm ripping through your body, forcing you to curl forward with an anguished shout. The nurse blots a cool, damp cloth against your head, while someone else on your other side adjusts your bed. There are people everywhere, all moving around in flurry, except for the doctor who's settling between your legs, eyes locking onto yours above your mask.

"There's no time dear." She says, and when you look up into your nurse's face, she seems sincere, encouraging and sweet, but you don't care. You want Johnny. You want Simon.

"P-please." You moan. "My phone- the passcode is 6669." The numbers come as a grunt when another contraction pulses through you. It's awful, burning, biting pain that shreds your belly, the muscles in your thighs, your back, everywhere, and you scream through it, while the two nurses on either side of you fold your legs back and the doctor coaches you to push.

"I can't!" You really can't. You can't do this without them. You don't even care about what they did anymore. You don't want to do this without them. They have to be here. "I can't, I ca-can't. Please, call Johnny. Or, or Simon." You pant, and eye the nervous looking aide that stands behind one of the nurses. "Call them!" You shout, and your sweet nurse gives him a nod, urging him into action as he fumbles with your phone and steps outside.

"Okay sweetheart. We're calling them, okay? But you have to push. Your body is ready." You shake your head, but you know she's right. You can feel your body bearing down, your muscles working inside of you, everything aligning so that you can have this baby.

It fills you with fear. Dread overcomes you, and when you feel the next contraction coming on, you begin to hyperventilate.

You can't have their baby without them.

"No... nonono-" You protest, like you're telling yourself, your own body, not to do what it was meant to do. It's useless however, because as your contraction peaks, your doctor is counting, and you can't help but push the way your body wants to, screaming your pain as loud as you can.

"Good job." She encourages once it passes, her eyes checking a tablet that's held in front of her face quickly, before returning her gaze back to you. "Okay, next one you're going to push for the full ten seconds okay? You can do it."

"I don't want to." You protest with a cry, and your nurse pats your hand sympathetically.

"I know, I know." She helps shift you forward, and then the next one is coming, and you feel like you're being torn apart, like your body is burning and being ripped in two as you push.

"I can see the head, you're almost there." Someone says, but you're not sure who it is, or if you care, your focus moving to one sole thing now, getting this baby out of your body as fast as you can. You breathe for maybe five seconds before the next wave begins, and then you're dropping your chin to your chest while you push with everything you have, voices in the room rising and falling, everything feeling too loud and too overwhelming, and then all of the sudden, there's a shifting inside of you, and then suddenly an overwhelming emptiness before-

a screaming, crying, shrieking baby is plopped onto your chest.

"There she is!" Your nurse calls, and you stare, slack jawed, unable to speak, unable to move while they cover her with a blanket and someone continues to work between your legs. "Congratulations mum!" The baby cries, and you lift a hand to cradle her closer while someone wipes around the top of her head.

"Hi, Bee... I'm your mom." you cry, and lower your lips to her head, placing a soft kiss on her skin while someone rubs her down. She cries, lungs healthy and full of power, and you laugh a little.

"Did you get a hold of them?" You ask him breathlessly, and he nods with a gulp.

"They're on their way." They're on their way. The words slam against your heart, and the feeling of relief is immense. They're coming. They're going to be here.

"Thank you." You hardly look at him, keeping your eyes on Bee, and her little angel face, perfect in every way.

The next few minutes pass in a blur. The doctor works on you, pressing on your stomach a few times in an awful way that hurts but is necessary, and then your bed is moved to a better position for sitting up. Bee is removed from your chest for measurements and a quick clean up, before she's placed back in your arms, freshly swaddled and soothed. You're mesmerized by her nose, her eyelashes, her tiny fingers that wrap around one of yours. Your baby, your daughter. The one you carried for nine months, the one that you went through so much heartache for, the one that you struggled so much for, was finally here. You wish they were here already, to see her, to see how precious she is, how amazing, and you sniffle through some tears when you realize you'll get to see the looks on both their faces when they see her for the first time, when they hold her.

You lift your hand to stroke the softness of her cheek, and frown, when it doesn't really cooperate... the limb feeling heavy and stiff, like it's not even really on your body. That's... weird. You try again, and again, with no success, and then you realize the room is kind of shifting, kind of spinning slightly, like you're dizzy.

"Uh-" You call out to the nurse who's on a laptop at the desk, her back partially turned towards you, and she glances over with a smile that quickly changes to a firm line when she rushes over. "I feel funny." You tell her, and she nods, the mechanics of the bed whirring while you're lowered completely flat. Bee cries, disrupted by the movement, and you want to shush her, soothe her, but the words don't come, and everything is very loud all of the sudden, bells, whistles, beeps and alarms going off at a frantic pace overtop the voices that have quickly filled the room.

"-ake the baby."

"too much-"

"hemmorage-"

The words come in clips, and your vision becomes filled with white dots as Bee is lifted off your chest, the arm that held her close to your body falling limply to your side. What's happening? You want to ask, want to scream it at them. Where are you taking her? She's crying in the nurse's arms, her distressed little face the last thing you see before your vision goes completely black, and you fade away.

"Drive fucking faster." Johnny shouts, and Simon squeezes his knee to try to calm him as best he can in this moment, even though the two of them are the farthest thing from being calm.

You were in labor, and you had actually called them. Simon's heart had soared when he answered the phone, telling the guy on the phone to tell you that they were on their way, that they'd be there soon while he and Johnny sprinted to the car. You had called them. You wanted them there.

"Tell her we love her!" He had huffed while fumbling with the keys. "We love her so much. We'll be there soon."

"Settle, Johnny." He's trying to keep Johnny calm, trying to keep himself calm, while also trying to drive as fast as possible to get to you.

"Aye, 'm sorry. I'm just... I can't wait to see her. I can't believe she called." Simon can't either. He can't believe that after eight months of being apart, eight months of wondering if they'd even ever see you again, it was them you were calling for when you needed someone, them that you wanted by your side.

It felt like a gift. It felt like a second chance.

"I hope she's okay." Johnny hedges, nervous tinge to his voice and Simon rubs his thigh to try to soothe him.

"I'm sure she's fine, babies are born all the time, yeah?"

"Yeah."

They rush the desk when they get there, both spitting out your name and the woman jerks backwards before adjusting, typing onto her keyboard to locate your record. A full minute passes, while the receptionist's brow furrows, and they both nearly explode.

"She should be here, we got a phone call." Johnny blurts.

"Should be in labor and delivery." Simon tries to provide, helpfully and they both stand there anxiously, while she taps away.

"Ah! Sorry, there she is. I've paged the L&D department, and someone will be down shortly. You can wait in those seats over there." She points to some arm chairs, and they both ignore the suggestion, opting to stand right in front of a set of doors.

"Mr. Riley? Mr MacTavish?" A female voice calls a few minutes later, and they nod, overeager as she approaches. A million questions bubble up in Simon's head, where are you, have you delivered yet, are you doing okay, how's the baby... but they all come to a screeching halt when the doctor gets close enough for him to read her face.

No.

"Can you come with me?"

"And there was just too much blood. Once the hemorrhaging started, it couldn't be controlled." Johnny hears what the doctor is saying. He can hear her, loud and clear. He copies her.

But he doesn't understand. His brain can't make the words fit, can't make them make sense. What does that mean? He glances at Simon, who doesn't look at him, just stares at the doctor, face stricken, pale as ash. Like he's seen a ghost. Like someone has died. But that can't be right.

"Alright." He says slowly. "But she's going to be okay?"

"Johnny." Simon croaks, and the doctor shakes her head.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. MacTavish. She's gone." Who's gone? Not you, obviously. What's going on here?

"No. No, no she can't be gone." Johnny protests. This doctor is clearly confused. "She just had someone call us. She's having... she's having a baby. Our baby. She's-" The doctor gives him a sad look, sympathetic and understanding. "No. She can't be gone, we just... we just got here. We-"

"Johnny." Simon says again and Johnny pivots on him.

"Tell her Si. Tell her, she's alright." Simon swings an arm forward, grabbing him by the collarbone, and holding on tight, pulling him close to his body.

It's only then, when Johnny looks up into Simon's face, and sees the tears there, sees those eyes, flooded, sees his cheeks, wet, his face full of turmoil and distress, that it really makes sense.

"No." He whispers. "No, she can't be." He shakes his head, and Simon tries to hold it still, tries to cradle his face in his palms. "Simon." He moans, word splitting into a cry, and then he's burying his face into Simon's neck, spilling hot tears onto his skin. Darling. Their Darling. Their Darling girl. Gone.

Because of them.

They did this.

Simon's body is shaking, shoulders trembling with his sobs, while he holds Johnny close, and Johnny screams into his chest, he screams and he screams until there's nothing left inside of him, every second ticking by bringing him farther and farther away from a time in his life when you still existed, when you were still in this world with them. And he wants it to stop, he wants it to stop so fucking bad but it won't, and he can't make it, he can't do anything, except stand here and scream, scream and beg and plead an unknown entity who's never given him anything good except for you and Simon.

They never got to tell you they still love you.

They didn't even get to say goodbye.

Hours later, they sit in a room with an empty bed, side by side, while a nurse stands in front of them with a tiny, sleeping baby wrapped in a blanket.

"This is your daughter." She tells them. "Her name is Bee."

"Bee." Johnny whispers, and she nods.

"Would you like to hold her?"

"Yes." Johnny says, but the word sounds flat, and he feels numb. The nurse places little Bee in his arms, while Simon watches, unblinking from where he sits right next to him. "Bee." He says again, looking down at her, truly looking at her for the first time. She looks so much like you, more like you than either of them, and he can't stop the tears that fall freely, while Simon reaches over and hesitantly strokes her cheek with a knuckle.

"She's beautiful." Simon whispers hoarsely, voice coarse with tears, and Johnny agrees. Johnny tries to stifle a sob, desperate not to wake Bee while she sleeps, but Simon can't stop himself, and he covers his face with his hand to try to smother his cry. "She looks just like her." Simon chokes, and Johnny's arms shake around where Bee is cradled. He leans to the side, into Simon, who wraps his arm around him immediately, holding Johnny while he holds their daughter, your daughter. They cannot stop their tears, their hearts cracking wide open in both of their chests as they stay down her, their only piece left of you in this world, the only thing they have left to cling to.

"You look just like your mum, baby Bee."