#away lines. like no one was thinking that so why did you say it??

[moonstruckme]

Hi lovie a lil request if u pls! I would love to see Sirius (but could also be down with one of the other boys if ur not feeling him) with a gf who has a migraine and just him doting on her

alternatively could also do it's like early in the relationship and she tries to hide it from him?

Thanks for requesting!

cw: modern au, migraine

Sirius Black x fem!reader ��� 997 words

You decide to text Sirius rather than braving the lights and sounds of the living room. You keep your phone brightness on low, clicking your screen off as soon as it’s sent. 

Do you have any painkillers I could use?

You feel guilty for commandeering Sirius’ bedroom like this. You’re supposed to be cooking dinner together, but when you came home with the groceries you’d asked meekly if he’d mind if you napped for a while. He offered to make it himself so it’ll be ready when you get up. You sort of dread when that will be. You know you’d feel better back at your own place, but you don’t trust yourself to drive like this, with pain taking all your concentration and spots and lines flashing across your vision, so instead you’re spoiling the evening you and Sirius had planned together. Now you’re asking him to wait on you, too. 

Sirius doesn’t respond to your text, but you hear him moving. The soft thump of footsteps coming down the hall and the quiet sshk of a drawer coming open. 

“Just a nap, huh?” he murmurs as he comes into the bedroom. He sits by your knees on the bed, shaking a couple of pills into his hand. “Does something hurt, lovely?”

“Yeah,” you manage a hoarse whisper as he passes you the pills and the glass of water he’s brought you. “Sorry. My head.” 

“I thought something might be wrong,” he admits, keeping his voice low. “You got awfully quiet earlier. Why didn’t you say?”

You set the glass on his nightstand after downing the pills. Cover your eyes with the hand cool with condensation. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to ruin our night.” 

Sirius tuts softly. “Don’t worry about that.” His hand finds your forehead, first feeling for a fever and then brushing a few pieces of hair back from your eyes, but he stops when your face tightens. “It’s quite bad?” 

You make a low humming sound. “It’s a migraine. I get them, sometimes.” 

“Oh, sweetheart.” Sirius takes his hand away from you, though by the pain in his voice it costs him to do it. “I’m sorry. What can I do?”

“I just need to lie with it for a bit. Hopefully it’ll calm down. I have things to help at home, but I don’t think I can make it there right now.” 

“What sort of things?” 

You tell him, admittedly somewhat short in your speech. Sirius doesn’t seem to mind. He leaves you to rest afterwards, and you hardly hear him again until nearly an hour later. You think dinner has to have long since been ready, but when Sirius comes back into his bedroom it’s not with food. 

You watch through slitted eyes as he creeps into the corner, plugging in a machine that starts billowing steam up into the room. He fiddles with it for a moment, and soon you’re aware of a familiar scent upon the air, floral and relaxing. 

“Did you get that from my place?” 

Sirius jumps, pressing a hand to his chest as he turns around. “Fuck, babe, I thought you were sleeping. No, I didn’t want to ask you to give me your key.” 

You look at the essential oil diffuser. “Huh. Looks just like mine.” 

“Well, good. Hopefully it’ll work just as well, then.” Sirius stands, typing something into his phone. “Do you think those binaural beats things will help right now, or will they keep you from falling asleep?” 

“M’not falling asleep anyway,” you mumble half bitterly, but your boyfriend only nods. He connects his phone to a small speaker and sets it by the bed. “Tell me you didn’t go buy a diffuser?”

Sirius looks at you, raising an eyebrow as a low, soothing thrum starts to emanate from the speaker on the nightstand. “Not sure what you want me to say then. Would you have rather I broke into your place to get one?”

“Sirius.” Your voice drops to a whisper. “You didn’t have to. That’s so sweet.” 

“Oh.” He brightens. “Good then. There’s a weighted mask in the freezer, too, by the way. Thought I’d give it a minute to chill first.” 

You’re starting to feel slightly teary, which isn’t really what you want during a migraine. “That’s really kind of you.” 

“Don’t mention it. Couldn’t have the world's loveliest girl suffering here in my own home, could I?” He smiles softly, looking like he’s going to reach for your face again before he stops himself. 

“You can touch me,” you say quietly. 

Sirius’ brows twitch together. “Yeah? Are you sure?” 

“Mhm. I feel a bit better than before.” 

“Could I kiss you as well?” 

You can’t stop your lips from curving, just a little. “Yeah.” 

Sirius smiles, too, pressing his lips gently to yours. He doesn’t stop there. “Better than before doesn’t seem quite well enough,” he murmurs as his affections grace your cheek, your closed eyelid, the space between your brows, “but we’ll get you there soon, I think. Remus sometimes has migraines, too. I called him and he said a massage might help, if it suits you. Just while your mask is getting cold.” 

“Yeah?” you ask on a breath. “I’ve never tried that.” 

“Do you wanna?”

You nod, and he gets you to roll onto your front, thumbs finding the tight muscles of your neck. It’s not a skillful massage, but Sirius is a quick learner, and soon you find the tension from your face to your shoulders relaxing from his ministrations. The air smells of lavender, the room pulses with a low, resounding hum, and Sirius’ touch bleeds affection into your skin. 

“Thank you for doing this,” you mumble, words slurred with relaxation. 

“Don’t know what you’re thanking me for,” he hums back. “I told you, I have the world’s loveliest girl right here in my own home. Great power comes with great responsibility and all that, right?”

You’re too enamored to even scoff.

[undead-supernova]

Prologue - Chapter 1

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

plot: you and Mr. Munson are freshman english teachers at south jefferson high school and it seems that some of the kids think he's a better teacher than you. and, yeah, you're a little bit pissed

wc: 3.9k

no cw for this prologue - (lighthearted enemies to lovers)

a fun 2000s idea i had after watching the tv show English Teacher

title reference: We Are Going To Be Friends by The White Stripes

You were a curious moth to a smoldering flame. If anyone accused you of such a thing, you’d tell them they were crazy. And yet, here you were, staring at a piece of lined paper sticking out of a locker. 

It belonged to Dustin Henderson, obvious from the Weird Al sticker stuck next to another of a retro baseball hat that read This is my thinking cap! Yeah, undoubtedly Dustin’s.

You thought about trying to push it back in so he could avoid some stupid bully ripping it. There was no reason for anyone to do that, but Dustin was a freshman and, well, he wasn’t exactly the most popular guy here. 

Fuck it, you thought before taking a step forward.

As you touched the worn corner, you spotted your name poking out from the page. Next to it was…Mr. Munson’s?

You couldn’t help yourself from pulling it out just a little further.

I just think Mr. Munson is better

Huh?

You yanked the paper from the slit, fisting it with both hands as you scanned the page. That was undoubtedly his handwriting, haphazardly written like he was always thinking faster than he wrote. 

So what the hell was Dustin Henderson doing saying that Mr. Munson was a better teacher than you? Dustin was in your class, not his! How the hell would he know?

A sudden flood of panic washed through you, causing you to throw a glance over to Aisha sitting farther up the hallway, scribbling away at something.  She was always here before everyone else, begging you to give her homework early. Most days the answer was no. Most days.

But today, her attention seemed far away. 

You looked back down, noticing a bunch of tally marks in pencil and pen. Even one was made with…an Expo marker? What the fuck?

she’s hot though, someone responded under Dustin’s comment, taunting you in red ink.

dude I’m dating Suzie 

that doesn’t mean you can’t look

Mr. Munson is super fucking cool

Why did this feel like betrayal? Why was the word gnawing at your gut? Why was it bringing that bagel you’d scarfed down this morning up to the surface? 

“Find anything good?”

You startled, instinctively jumping backwards and into the chest of the person behind you. Whirling around, you were face-to-face with Mr. Munson himself. 

This was the first time he’d spoken to you. Ever. You’d been here since last spring, subbing for a teacher on maternity leave before she decided to become a stay at home mom. The hiring process was much easier after that. You’d see him at staff meetings and watch him holding the door open for the students after school like he was herding zoo animals off of his arc. 

And now here he was, looking way too put together for a Monday morning. He had a crisp white button down with a noticeably ironed black tie and his long hair skillfully tucked into a low bun. His shaggy bangs were freshly trimmed with little tendrils framing his face. You couldn’t help but think he was the only teacher here without dark circles under his eyes. 

“I…” you trailed, trying to parse through everything that’s just happened. The tally marks. The comments. The other candidate standing in front of you. The sheer amount of tally marks declaring you inferior to said candidate. 

Mr. Munson’s eyes flickered down at the page, eyebrows shooting up. Before you could respond, he plucked it from your fingers. He mouthed the words as he read, scanning intently.

And then he let out a wheeze of laughter.

“Dustin fuc—freaking, excuse me, Henderson. You know, he’s just—” He looked back up at you, grin fading as he noticed your deflated expression. “Woah, hey. Sorry, I didn’t mean to, like, hurt your feelings or whatever.”

“It’s fine.”

It wasn’t fine and you hated that it wasn’t fine. 

There was an image that flashed briefly before your eyes, of a note stuck to your locker with gum. A love letter from your crush, the one you held to your chest with a death grip as you floated through the cafeteria to his table. The great swell of hope before the roar of laughter that ensued. Before he high-fived his friends and let you down hard. 

But this wasn’t your hometown. The walls weren’t flecked in vertical lines of blue and gold. The lights didn’t signal a death sentence.

And standing in front of you was your colleague, stuck with you in this limbo between the past and the present.

“Don’t let it get you down or whatever. They’re just kids.”

You could’ve sworn he saw the swirling fog that lingered in your eyes. Was this him letting you down easy? 

Then why does it feel like a jab?

Mr. Munson was acknowledged as the favorite teacher of the freshman class last semester. You’d caught the tail end of this recognition, watching him laugh and roll his eyes as he gave a quick salute and sat back down. Mr. Munson, who already had everything figured out within the first year of teaching here. 

You opened your mouth, pathetically suppressing the urge to ask, How did you do it? What am I doing wrong?

But the wave of students coming through brought you back to the current moment, stifling any admittance of weakness.

“Yeah, you’re right,” you said. “Gotta run, bye.”

You turned.

“Isn’t your classroom that way?”

Wincing, you turned back around, watching a smirk fill Mr. Munson’s stupid face. His eyes flickered toward your classroom three doors down from his before back at you.

“Yep, thanks. I know where my classroom is.”

“Yeah, I bet you sure do.”

“Great.”

That was the last time you would ever speak to Edward Munson.

Two weeks after you two found the list, you’d decided to sit in the empty break room for lunch. Every time you went to the cafeteria, you saw Mr. Munson there, laughing with the music and band teacher, Chelsea Jennings. 

The numerous times you’d tried sitting even slightly near them, you always heard Mr. Munson talking loudly about his Creative Writing elective. He’d rattle on about the short stories he’d assign them as models with authors even you didn’t know. Names that flew past your head, some even being professors from the local university you hadn’t attended. Professors that he still talked to.

You had taken up the Poetry elective, quickly updating the curriculum to include more female poets and sprinkle in some of the moderns. You’d desperately wanted to talk to someone else about it, but insecurity spread the second you realized all of your poets were well-known. But how could you ignore Emily Dickinson, Annie Finch, Pablo Neruda, and Mary Oliver?

Chelsea wasn’t the only one who talked to him so casually. The other teachers would greet him with such warm demeanours that it made you feel sick. George Bedding, the junior geometry teacher and Mathletes coach, ruffled Mr. Munson’s hair and pretended to punch him before sitting next to him. The fucking P.E. teacher and football coach, Shaun Atkins, even clapped a hand on his shoulder while heading towards the line for pizza day.

The few teachers that had been more than welcoming to you were never around for lunch. Angela Bradbury, one of the senior English teachers, was always helping students or hidden away in her room, nibbling on her Wonder Bread sandwiches while reading the latest romance novel. Sarah Stewart, an art teacher, was your closest ally but spent her lunches working on her own projects. 

See? There was no need to be jealous of him. You weren’t stuck on the outs. You fit in just fine.

Or, at least, that’s what you once thought. Now you had no idea how you were being perceived. And if you hadn’t come to the break room today, you would’ve spiraled. Again.

The room was small, coated in depressing beige with flimsy cabinets filled with powdered creamer and Folger’s coffee that expired two months ago. The refrigerator could barely keep anything cold. 

So, yeah, no one really came in here. 

(The other teachers hid a coffee pot in one of the supply closets with the good creamer in a mini-fridge you’d all chipped in for. Rumor has it that even Principal Scott used it.)

You sat down at the folding table, lower back already aching from the lack of support the metal chair gave you. At least you wouldn’t run into Mr. Munson again.

He’d just laughed while you were in the throes of humiliation. You supposed he didn’t have to think much about it because he was the one who was winning. Even if he was just some guy in his mid-thirties who must’ve taken this job as a last resort.

As if you hadn’t done the same.

But that was irrelevant. 

And, yes, you looked at Dustin a bit differently after the incident. Every time he raised his hand, which was a lot, you couldn’t help but see his penciled scrawl. 

Mr. Munson is super fucking cool

You wondered dejectedly if they wrote that during your class. 

Before you could let out a frustrated groan, you noticed Mr. Munson in the doorway with a metal lunchbox covered in band stickers. He paused, wide eyes locking with yours. You couldn’t help but glare. 

Should the opinion of fourteen-year-old boys affect the way you treat another adult? No, probably not.

But you weren’t always known to be a rational person.

It could’ve been minutes. You couldn’t say. The two of you locked in a stare that seemed more like predator and prey than two teachers just trying to make it through another Tuesday. His dumb expression, dark eyes as wide as a deer caught in the fluorescence. You, a mountain lion trying desperately not to devour your sandwich, chips, and Coke in one bite. Including the aluminum can.

What was worse was the longer you stared, the more you noticed how attractive he was. Properly attractive, with lips coated in what seemed to be tinted chapstick. There was no way his lips were that pink, right? And he had to be using some kind of mascara with how dark his eyelashes were. Then there was his hair, seemingly still stuck in the Eighties with the waves. At least he brushed his hair at all, which was more than any of the greasy-haired teenage boys that frequented the halls. Maybe he could be something to aspire to.

Maybe he already was.

Mr. Munson moved silently, only heard as he pulled out the chair across from you, the legs screeching against the dirty linoleum. You surveyed his lunch, an already cooked ramen cup with a Dr. Pepper. He must’ve found a better microwave in Sarah’s closet.

The teachers of South Jefferson High School had a lot of secrets hidden in their closets. 

You finally dug into your sandwich, nearly moaning in relief. The school had implemented some new rule that the kids couldn’t bring snacks or they’d be “confiscated.” This rule applied to the teachers as well which was fucking cruel. You’d said your tearful goodbyes to apple slices with caramel and coughing fits between periods because you’d tried to choke down packets of Cheez-Its.

However, you weren’t prepared to watch Mr. Munson heave noodles into his mouth with a plastic fork, slurping and sucking the entire time. You couldn’t help your grimace, desperately trying to hold back the sound of disgust in the back of your throat.

Until he looked up, stray noodles plopping back into the styrofoam.  

“Uh, what kind of sandwich is that?” 

He only swallowed after he posed his question. Jesus Christ, this was the guy the kids were deeming their favorite? If only they saw him like this.

“Turkey and provolone,” you responded curtly. 

He lifted an eyebrow. “Really? ‘Cause I see other stuff on it.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Banana peppers and onion.”

“And lettuce.”

So much for that scared little deer. Now he was some annoying warthog or a fox trying to slither through chicken wire.  

“Why are you interested in my sandwich?”

He shrugged, a hint of a smile growing in the corners of his lips. You hated it. “It, uh, looks good.”

“It’s Jersey Mike’s,” you said bluntly. 

Mr. Munson only shrugged again. “I only have ramen at my apartment.”

“Right.”

“And that fridge is a piece of shit.”

“True.”

“Woah!” he exclaimed, a huff of laughter leaving his lips. “Did we just agree on something?”

You rolled your eyes, unable to stop the feeling of being a teenage girl again. It figures you’d revert after being in this environment for so long, with the stinging scent of cleaning supplies and hormones spreading like diseases. But nothing prepared you for this to transport you back to a time once easily forgotten.

On instinct, your tongue grazed the front of your teeth, laving over the missing braces that hadn’t been there for nearly twenty years. 

“Why do you care?” you snapped. 

Something flickered across his eyes, too quick for you to distinguish. “Oh, I see,” he started, pointing his fork at you. It was then you noticed that it was in fact a spork. “You’re still pissed off about the list.”

You feigned a snort, waving him away as you took the final sip of your Coke. “What? No way.”

Another pearl of laughter flew out of him. “Has anyone told you you suck at lying?”

“Has anyone told you you’re annoying?”

As soon as it flew out of your mouth, you realized just how mean it sounded. You winced.

Mr. Munson let out another laugh but this one didn’t sound the same as the last. “If I had a penny for how many times I’ve been called annoying, I think I’d be, like, the wealthiest guy alive.”

“You’d surpass Bill Gates?” you asked, trying to lighten the mood.

He pretended to think about it before nodding. “Oh, yeah.”

“Wow.”

You couldn’t help the ease you felt when he played along. But the irritation started right back up as he reopened his mouth.

“I know you’re impressed,” he teased. “It’s okay. Go ahead and gawk.”

“Yeah, I’m absolutely starstruck.”

“Don’t worry about the list.” When you rolled your eyes again, he added, “Seriously! Those guys are just bored. I bet you’re a great teacher.”

“Thanks.” You didn’t even pretend to mean it.

After another shovel of noodles, he said, “But, just between us, I am kinda the best English teacher here.”

You couldn’t help a third eye roll. “I sincerely doubt it.”

A smug grin filled his face. “If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t be sponsoring the new book club next semester.”

A flare of anger flooded your veins.

“What?”

“Don’t get too jealous there,” he teased.

You shook your head. “No, I’m sponsoring the book club.”

He let out a hum and tilted his head. “You sure? ‘Cause I didn’t see your name on there.”

You scoffed. “I didn’t see Edward Munson on that list.” You said his name with a certain amount of venom that you knew wasn’t lost on him. His resulting scowl said it all.

He stood up, smoothing out his shirt and fiddling with his tie. “Well, I guess you’ll just have to deal with us being partners then.”

You were at a loss for words, unable to do anything but watch him move towards the door. “Been great talkin’ to you,” he said. He threw his napkin in the trash can before glancing at you over his shoulder. “I’m Edd-ie, by the way. Don’t wear it out.”

He walked away but you couldn’t help but throw a napkin at his fading figure. It made it as far as the end of the table.

That was the first moment you wondered why he’d decided to eat here in the first place.

“There must be some kind of mistake!” you exclaimed.

Principal Scott shook her head for probably the fourth time in two minutes. “I don’t see why you can’t work with Mr. Munson on this. If anything, that makes the club stronger.”

“It’s my chance to try and connect with these kids,” you explained, desperation leaking through your professional demeanor. “Ed—Mr. Munson has been here way longer than I have—”

“Only by a year,” she corrected, but you were far from over.

“ —and he has a leg up on me with them! I want to start making an impact! Kids these days are less interested in reading than ever before. It stopped being cool. What if I could inspire them to care? What if I could get them to read things that change their point of view on the world, to inspire them to think further outside of the little box their environment puts them in?”

Eddie was impressed by your speech, even if he wasn’t supposed to witness it. He’d actually been on the way here to talk to Principal Scott himself to try and keep his spot as the club’s head sponsor. Maybe keep you there but reduce your authority.

But then. Well. He heard you talk like this.

“And that’s great,” Principal Scott continued. “I just don’t see why you and Mr. Munson can’t do that together.”

“The kids like him,” you said before coughing. “At least, that’s how it seems.” Eddie rolled his eyes. “How am I supposed to do this work if he’s taking the spotlight? I’m just supposed to stay sidelined?”

He thought about the first time he saw you, at that first staff meeting you’d attended. You fidgeted a lot, all flustered and nervous like all new teachers were. Even in your fear, he thought you were pretty. Standing there, shifting from one heel to the other like you’d rather go barefoot than stand in the opposite corner.

You’d looked over at him at the same time, caught up in an awkward staring contest where both contestants refused to stop blinking and had no idea when to call it quits. It didn’t help that you seemingly relaxed at the connection. It was kind of adorable.

When he saw you in the halls after that, he found himself pausing to observe you. You were always there to wish the kids a good morning and a good rest of their day with a certain amount of sincerity that he could never muster. If there was a hyperventilating kid in the hallway, you were the first one to huddle them into your room to help them down from whatever ledge their raging hormones put them on that day. 

Once, he’d walked past your room to see you opening a drawer while saying, “Don’t tell anyone about my secret stash, okay?” You pulled out a bowl of candy that even had his mouth watering. The student nodded her head, puffy-eyed but already reaching in. “If you promise to keep it a secret, you can come get candy whenever you want. How does that sound?”

If you were outside directing carpool, the worst of all the roulette wheel of responsibilities South Jefferson had to offer, you always seemed energized. Like it wasn’t a chore whatsoever. 

He knew you cared about these kids. He did.

But you seemed to have absolutely lost it at the mere implication that you weren’t already everyone’s favorite English teacher. You’d developed some personal vendetta against him as if it was his fault that fourteen-year-olds with greasy hair, braces, and cruel acne flares thought better of him. Especially Dustin Henderson and his group of nerds. He meant that with all the love in the world, of course.

The way you spoke to him was more intriguing than infuriating. Amusing, even. But then you said his name with such disdain, such vitriol. It prodded at something deep inside him, a well of nearly forgotten memories that seemed to overflow the second you said his name like that.

So, yeah, maybe he was starting to develop a bit of a vendetta against you.

Eddie had to shift his plans. Clearly you weren’t going to give up easily. Maybe he’d annoy you to the brink of insanity and get you to drop your sponsorship. He’d always had proficiency in that skill. Besides, it wasn’t too mean. What was another push?

“Don’t you think you’ll get better turnout rates if he’s there?” Principal Scott reasoned. “If the kids like him so much, you can use that to your advantage—and his. I know Mr. Munson is a dedicated teacher. He’s given your speech to me dozens of times about things that quite frankly matter less. He’s passionate. Just try to work together. It doesn’t have to be that complicated.”

“Fine,” you conceded. “Fine. I can do that. Thank you for your time, Principal Scott.”

“Call me Carrie.”

“Yes, thank you, Carrie. I’ll see what I can do.”

Eddie thought about walking away. Really, he did.

But there was a part of him that really wanted to see you. Your figure had been obscured by the doorframe and, sure, he’d gotten enough from your words alone.

Nothing prepared him for the sight before him. You were utterly defeated, scratching at your neck as you hunched forward. The cross-strap bag you always carried was slipping off of your shoulder, causing you to groan as you fixed it. 

As your eyes flickered up, he watched the scowl that seemed reserved for him deepen.

“What?” you challenged. “You wanna gloat?”

It was then Eddie realized he’d been grinning. He gestured to his face. “Was I not already gloating?”

“I can’t believe this,” you grumbled, quickly strolling past him.

But Eddie had a hard time knowing when to stop. And maybe, just maybe, he was solidifying his new plan. It couldn’t be that difficult, could it?

“You could take a picture, you know,” he continued. “just so you can keep up with every face I have when I win.”

“Shut up.”

Oh, he could get this done before Christmas break was over. If he challenged himself enough, maybe by the end of next week.

“I can lend you a camera if you’d like.”

You halted with a huff. “I’m trying to get things done for these kids. I’m trying to help them. Do you not get that? Or is this just a mask you wear to make people like you?”

Eddie tried to disguise the quirk of his eyebrow as he considered your words. But judging by the upwards flick of your eyes, he knew he’d been caught.

What was it that you saw in him that hadn’t been uncovered since his youth?

“You think so low of me.”

“I haven’t been given a reason to indicate any other kind of reaction to you and your incessant need to be a pest at any given time of the day.”

Eddie resisted the urge to give you a slow clap. Instead, he settled on “You done?”

You took a deep breath before nodding. “Yes.” Something seemed to shift as you took another deep breath and straightened your posture. “Winter break is coming up next week. We should try to figure out how to make this work. Why don’t we go get coffee or something and hammer out the kinks.”

“I think that is a great idea,” he replied, his tone more mocking than anything. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You opened your mouth, seemingly to say one thing before hesitating and starting over. “Meet me next Tuesday at Java Bean at one p-m.”

Eddie grinned, smugly wondering what your reaction would be when he said his next words. Professionalism be damned.

“It’s a date.”

Your eyes widened, amusing Eddie to no end. Oh, yeah. That hit something. 

“Do you hear yourself?” you asked, nearly scoffing at him.

There were those eyes of yours, searching for something in his. As if you were both trying to find the truth behind your cement walls of defense. But you gave up first, spinning around and trudging down the hallway.

“See you Tuesday!” he called after you, smiling triumphantly when your shoulders locked up.

Oh, yeah. This would be a cake walk.

thank you to @jo-harrington for all the time she took helping me with the writing process and @littlexdeaths for always making the best dividers. i love you both so much it's hard to articulate.

[thestrangeblob]

a little list of canon evidence supporting most elriel theories <3

1. elain and the possibility of her training to be a spy

Elain pushed, “We keep it secret—we send the servants away. (...) No one will know.”

My sister Elain can convince anyone to do anything with a few smiles.

She (feyre) nodded toward Azriel. “I think she’s (elain) got you beat for secret-keeping."

It made sense, I supposed, that Azriel alone had listened to her. The male who heard things others could not … Perhaps he, too, had suffered as Elain had before he understood the gift he possessed.

Elain spoke from the doorway, having appeared so silently that they all twisted toward her, “Using me.” She scanned Elain from head to toe, wondering if she’d been taking lessons in stealth either from Azriel or the two half-wraiths she called friends.

Elain stepped out of a shadow behind him, and rammed Truth-Teller to the hilt through the back of the king’s neck as she snarled in his ear, “Don’t you touch my sister.”

2. elain wearing azriel's color (cobalt blue)

Elain rasped, “Nice to meet you,” before hustling after her, the silk skirts of her cobalt dress whispering over the parquet floor. ... She’d (elain) covered her nightgown with a silk shawl of palest blue, her fingers grappling into the fabric as she held herself. ... Elain seemed to realize it, too. She peered down at herself, at the simple blue gown she wore.  ... But Elain wrapped her own blue cloak around herself, ... “Is your father healing?” I added the cobalt of Azriel’s Siphons to the orange and mixed until a rich brown appeared. ... Azriel’s Siphons flashed, a sprawling shield of cobalt locking over Rhysand’s, his breathing just as heavy as my mate’s ... Az held Cassian’s stare for a moment, cobalt Siphons flickering, and then nodded.

3. elain's mating bond to lucien might be wrong

when elain was turned and mated:

Faster than any of us could see, Jurian fired a hidden ash bolt through Azriel’s chest. The ash bolt was coated in bloodbane that the King of Hybern claimed flowed where he willed it. ... “Put the prettier one in first,” the king said, Mor already forgotten. I twisted—only to have the king’s guards grab me from behind. Rhys was instantly there, but Azriel shouted, back arching as the king’s poison worked its way in. (I didn't leave out any lines between these two paragraphs... so why did the poison sink deeper into az when the king says to put elain into the cauldron???)

azriel's mate behaviour to elain:

Azriel smiled faintly. ‘Would you like me to show you the garden?’ But Elain did not balk from him, did not shy away as she nodded—just once. ... Elain sat silently at one of the wrought-iron tables, a cup of tea before her. Azriel was sprawled on the chaise longue across the gray stones, sunning his wings and reading what looked to be a stack of reports ... The two Illyrians paused their inspection of me long enough to note my sisters finishing up breakfast, Nesta in a pale gray gown that brought out the steel in her eyes, Elain in dusty pink. Both males went a bit still.” ... ‘Can I set you up in the garden? The herbs you planted are coming in nicely.’ ‘I can help her,’ said Azriel, stepping to the table as Elain silently rose. No shadows at his ear, no darkness ringing from his fingers as he extended a hand.” ... The ancient healer jerked her chin toward Lucien. “See what he can do. If anyone can sense if something is amiss, it’s a mate. The mating bond. It is a bridge between souls.” She pointed at Lucien as she saw herself out. “Try sitting down with her. Just talking—sensing. See what you pick up. But don’t push.” (what we see azriel do time and again) “She doesn’t need anything,” Azriel answered without so much as looking at Lucien. Elain was staring at the spymaster now—unblinkingly. “We’re the ones who need ...” Azriel trailed off. “A seer,” he said, more to himself than us. “The Cauldron made you a seer.” ... “Because of the shit with Elain?” Azriel stilled. “What happened to Elain?”

the description of feysand:

But the bond, the bridge between us... it was a howling void.

the description of elriel:

The only bridge of connection ... that knife.

the description of elucien:

“It felt ... strange,” Elain breathed. “Like you pulled on a thread tied to a rib.”

finally:

‘There is choice. And sometimes, yes—the bond picks poorly sometimes the bond is nothing more than some…preordained guesswork at who will provide the strongest offspring. At its basest level, it’s perhaps only that.’”

4. azriel's shadows DO like elain:

In the blinding sun off the turquoise water, his shadows were gone, his face stark and clear. More ... human than I had ever seen him. ... “What now?” Elain mused, at last answering my question from moments ago as her attention drifted to the windows facing the sunny street. That smile grew, bright enough that it lit up even Azriel’s shadows across the room. ... Nesta saw the blow land, like a physical impact, in Elain’s face, her posture. No one spoke, though shadows gathered in the corners of the room, like snakes preparing to strike. ... But tonight, here in the dark and quiet, with no one to see…He pulled the small velvet box from the shadows around him. Opened it for her. 

5. elriel's aesthetic as light and dark

I saw the painting in my mind: the lovely fawn, blooming spring vibrant behind her. Standing before Death, shadows and terrors lurking over his shoulder. Light and dark, the space between their bodies a blend of the two. The only bridge of connection ... that knife.

if y'all want any more cold hard canon to back up any other elriel theories/arguments/takes comment it on this post and I'll add it to the list LMAO

good day and good night y'all stay safe our there<33

[softshuji]

"Sweetheart, can you come here a second?" Hanma's voice beckons you from the bathroom where you stand on your toes to lean over the mirror, your sleeping gown tumbling from one shoulder and your skin prickling with the cold draught that slips through the open window.

You round the corner and find him fiddling in the mirror with the pinstripe tie, jacket discarded on the armrest of the sofa, dress shoes turned over on the carpet by the door.

'Yeah?' you say, one hand suspended in your hair where you're trying to set a roller behind your headband. And failing.

'You busy with something?'

'No, just sorting my hair. Why? You need something?'

'gimme a hand with this?' and he flips the tie up away from the collar of his open dress shirt, where the wider end lands on his shoulder.

You raise an eyebrow even as you pin the roller and walk over, acquiescing still. 'I swear you know how to tie a tie, don't you?'

He scoffs, a faint pfft sound with a hand on his chest in mock indignation, before grinning at you through the mirror. 'What do you take me for? Of course I do.' And then, after a pause. 'I like when you do it though.'

You roll your eyes, albeit playfully, hoisting your slipping gown back over the spaghetti strap of your top as you make to stand in front of him, your back to the mirror and entirely dwarfed by the size of him against your chest.

'I swear you just want an excuse for me touch you', you say, both hands now coming up to adjust the long and short side of the tie, a faint click of your tongue he knows you don't mean. And that you know you don't mean either.

'There a problem with that?' and you avoid the glint in his eye that spells mischief, doubled by how his now free hands come to rest languidly against your hips, rocking them back and forth against his, a slight sway to silent music in your otherwise messy living room. A glance at the clock tells you it's early still, and the sun hasn't quite climbed over the horizon, leaving a shell pink swathe of colour just beyond your curtains.

'Didn't say that did I, baby?' you say, knuckles brushing against the fabric of his shirt as you cross the triangular side over the other. A loop twice around and you bite your lip in concentration.

He likes how you look when you're pretending not to notice, when you're deep in thought. It's a pride he talks about often, a love that hurts and swells and aches, drains and fills him all at once, the kind he could drown in if he sated himself long enough. He can see the top of your head, the roundness of its curvature and the shine of your glossy hair - a light that moves every time you turn your head and his chest aches with a tenderness that's bone deep.

You're beautiful, even more so now, when you're not thinking about it , when you're not particularly trying, and even when you are, he thinks there mightn't be enough words for him to do it justice. He's never been one for fancy declarations after all.

You pat his chest when you finish, look up at him with moisturizer on your cheeks that hasn't quite absorbed yet. 'All done,' you say. 'You big baby, I can't believe you called me here to do your tie.'

And he smiles in that way that has a flutter beating in your stomach, the warm syrupy smile that's wide and big and beautiful. 'It wasn't just for that.' and he leans down, two hands still on your hips to ghost his lips against yours, hot breath tinged with a faint menthol and mint before he brushes them, ever so so tentatively, gently, and presses himself to you.

You soften, and then pull back immediately, a frown lining your brows. 'Come on,' you say. 'You can't seriously be wanting some right now?'

And he pauses, the smile bleeding into a look of abject concern, a flash of worry in his chest. 'What? Why not?'

'I look horrendous.'

He pauses, hands stilling from where they've gripped your hips. 'Huh? What do you mean?'

'I do.' and you say it with earnestness, a genuineness that aches, like you believe it. 'My hair isn't cooperating and I don't look well so you can't seriously be attracted to this.' and you gesture down at the entirety of yourself, the spaghetti strap cami exposed by your sleeping gown with the belt undone, rollers sliding out of your hair, and a toothpaste stain down your chest he wants to put his mouth on.

'I don't see why not pretty girl. I think you look sexy.' and as if to enunciate his point, he grinds his hips further against yours, hands slipping under your sleeping gown to find the hem of your shorts.

'You absolutely do not, and if you do, you're a sick freak.'

And he laughs, so spontaneously, bright and warm and inundated with a flicker of sleep. 'Then I'm a sick freak huh? Since I think you're sexy all the time.'

'Yeah?'

'Yeah,' he says, breathless now against your neck, hiking your thigh around his waist before he backs you against the sofa. 'So pretty, nothing you say can tell me otherwise. So you'd better stop arguing with me.'

Your back hits the soft down of the sofa and your sleeping gown falls entirely off your left shoulder. 'Or what?'

He glances at his watch just as he moves to undo his belt with the other hand. 'Or you'll be punished and I've got time to teach you a lesson Sweetheart.'

And he leans down just as the sun climbs finally over the slat in the curtains, a shell pink splashing over the wall, and the two of you together.

Reblogs appreciated

[archduchessgortash]

Unpopular Opinion

An 'evil power couple ruling Toril together' ending for Durge and Gortash is a horrible idea, and I'm glad that it doesn't happen in Baldur's Gate 3. If it ever did, it would not be a happy ending for either of them.

If that's your kink... cool. It's such a popular ask in the fandom that I'm sure someone already wrote it months and months ago.

My kink is redemption, but hardly anyone seems to want that for Gortash, and it makes me sad. I really think it should have been an option.

Here's why I don't want Durge and Gortash ruling Toril:

Durge and Gortash have both been abused, manipulated, and treated like complete shit by their families, their caregivers, and their gods. Bane's treatment of Gortash isn't exactly clear except that he tortures his soul for failure even though Gortash did everything he possibly could to succeed in the Absolute plot. By the time we meet him in-game, Gortash has become as bad, if not worse, than his abusers. Pre-tadpole Durge was a piece of work, too, although Sceleritas does mention that they struggled to stay the course that Bhaal had set them upon even before their lobotomy.

We know that one of the themes in Baldur's Gate 3 revolves around cycles of abuse. Even when the victim-turned-abuser isn't arguably 'as bad' as the one who hurt them, if they choose the same sort of path, they lose everything they were ever really fighting for: themselves.

I know Ascended Astarion stans will stomp their feet and say he hasn't become Cazador 2.0. To them, I say: 'You're right. He hasn't... yet.' However, he has eternity now and a delusional slave of his very own to bring out the worst in him. There's a reason that spawn Astarion mentions how he felt everything he'd learned since meeting his new friend/partner slipping away when he thanks them for stopping his ascension. Because that is what ascension does to him. Astarion loses. Cazador wins. Even dead, he has won. That the fandom doesn't get that boggles my mind.

Some fans like the idea of evil Durge and Gortash taking out Bhaal and Bane, becoming gods themselves. In my opinion, this is so much worse. Killing or torturing their abusers as revenge isn't 'finally showing them' or proving their strength. It is, in fact, a mirror of their abuser's own weakness manifested in their victim. Gortash has already crossed this line. Dravo Flymm is effectively dead, animated only by his tadpole. This is another reason I wish Karlach had the option to forgive Gortash--not for him--but for her.

Gortash intellectualized his own abuse so hard that he actually thinks he was helping Karlach by giving her to Zariel. He has not truly dealt with anything that was done to him. He projects it onto the people around him and makes his own problems into everyone else's. I believe this is why there's no ending in which he survives. That, and running out of time and money to do him and Wyll justice with their storylines.

I don't like Durge and Gortash becoming worse together. A history of abuse does not excuse its continuation. I don't want to watch them be overtaken by their own weakness, to weep as I gaze upon the manifestation of their inescapable cowardice.

I want to see them win, but my definition of winning is not ruling. My definition of winning is choosing to no longer emulate their abusers, to become what tiny glimpses into their back stories show us they once had the potential to be.

The idea of Durge and Gortash enslaving the world and ruling it brings to mind a line from one of my all-time favorite songs: Veteran of the Psychic Wars by Blue Öyster Cult.

'Did I hear you say that THIS is victory?!'

Well... it is. Just not theirs.

Repeating the cycle of abuse is nothing short of ensuring the legacy of the abuser.

Like I said... I want Durge and Gortash to win.

[umbramoons]

TECH MOMENTS PT. 5

The Bad Batch S1 E1: Aftermath

This one's a doozy, my friends! Enjoy 100+ bullet points and 50+ pics of our favorite clone genius!

- Running through the droids, putting an explosive on everyone he can get his hands on. ❤

- “Hey, clanker! Catch!” (This was the moment I realized that I like him. My brain did a double take, like: "Wait he's attractive.") ❤

- Kicking a droid for no reason ❤

- Walking off the battlefield like it wasn’t even hard.

- I love the little distracted wave he gives General Billaba. Everything about him is just so endearing to me. 

- His voice is a little more deep and raspy than usual while he’s talking about the war ending. Gosh, I’m down so bad for this man.

- He’s the only one who doesn’t have a blaster drawn when they first approach Caleb.

- Tech is one of the ones sent to talk to the regs about what’s going on. Echo makes sense since he’s technically still a reg, too, but why Tech? Because he’s the least likely to cause a problem.

- He’s also the first one to run to talk to the regs. Taking initiative once again.

- Tech: “The regs have been ordered to execute the Jedi.”

Hunter: “What? Which Jedi?” 

Tech: “All of them.” The disbelief in his voice is subtle but there.

- This is a glow-up, people (a small one since he was already pretty, but still)! Tech is gorgeous, and no one can tell me otherwise. ❤

- I love his tiny smile when he finishes explaining how long they’ve been gone.

- The disappointed look on his face when Wrecker doesn’t understand his explanation of how long they’ve been away from Kamino.

- He has the smallest smile on his face when he hears that General Grevious has been defeated.

- “Just like I said.”

- He looks so done when Wrecker punches him.

- When the clones pass by with the body of a Jedi, it’s Tech Hunter shares a look with.

- “Excuse me, trooper, what division are you from?” *gets shoved aside* “Oh. Well, they seem the same to me.” ❤

- He immediately starts working on something once he gets back to their barracks.

- All the formulas and calculations on his bunk wall… a result of his sleepless nights, I’m sure.

- I love the curious look he gives Crosshair when he says they didn’t complete every objective.

- “And my exceptional mind.” I love him an unhealthy amount.

- “My guess is we are immune to the effects of the programming.” *looks at Crosshair* “Though I can’t be one hundred percent certain of it.” He looks so. Kriffing. GORGEOUS.

- “You are more machine than man. Percentage-wise, at least.” His little reassurance to Echo at the end.

- Hunter: “This is one meeting I don’t want to miss.”

Tech: “First time for everything.”

- The way he’s just looking at his datapad throughout the meeting.

- Stepping out of line to ask Hunter what’s wrong. First of all, noticing something’s up with him. And second, it takes some serious courage to break formation like that during such an important briefing while all your superiors can clearly see you.

- “Still don’t think the regs are programmed?”

- Crosshair: “Republic, Empire, what’s the difference?” 

Tech: “The systematic termination of the Jedi is a big one for me.” ❤

- “Adolescent human female. Origins... uncertain.”

- Tech’s mouth quirks up in a tiny smile when Omega says she was wondering when they’d come back. He already likes her.

- His look of surprise when he realizes Omega knows his name.

- The way he stares after Omega in wonder. ❤

- There’s this split second (right after Hunter says "everyone's talking about it) where it looks like he’s looking directly into the camera, and it’s just like, “Well hello there, sir.”

- “Hopefully not mental. Clearly, we’d never pass that.” It's okay, I'm not neurotypical either, babe.

- Leaning around Hunter to see Omega.

- “You want to sit with us? That’s never happened before.”

- He can’t stop grinning at Omega after she says she likes him and his team for not fitting in. ❤

- I love the way his expression shifts when Hunter asks where Omega’s family is. Like, "that's actually a really good point."

- The way his face instantly drops when the regs make a jab at them. At Omega. He’s used to being pushed around, but he’s not pleased to see this precious girl being mocked.

- I love the way he’s all squared up in the background of this fight.

- Calling out a warning to Echo and then running over to the clone who knocks him out. It doesn’t show it, but Tech definitely threw a punch at the guy for hurting his best friend. ❤

- “We’re more deviant than we are defective.”

- “Then we are not being reprimanded?” He’s so used to getting in trouble.

- His eye roll when Wrecker charges into battle without thinking. I thank God every day that we can always see his eyes with those goggles. ❤

- He’s not at all phased by passing through live rounds to get to Wrecker. He’d gladly walk through fire for the people he loves.

- “Wrecker, are you alright?”

- That little head shake when Hunter signals a plan to him. Like he doesn’t think it will work, but he knows they have no other option.

- Wrecker: “Aw, I hate hand signals!” 

Tech: “Perhaps if you memorized them?” 

Wrecker: “Why don’t you memorize them?” 

Tech: “I have.”

- They’re in the middle of a battle, but he’s sitting against those barriers so casually.

- The way he stops Wrecker from crushing the droid.

- Reprogramming the droid, then choosing to ride on its shoulders like a legend. (Note that it looks like he’s the only one to specifically get an impressed reaction out of Tarkin with his performance in this simulation) ❤

- Can I also just say how impressive that was? He completely reprogrammed a hostile droid to follow his commands while under heavy fire. In less than a minute. What a man, what a legend.

- “Wrecker. Look alive.” I feel like he has the capacity to lead, he just doesn’t want to.

- Reaches out to Wrecker (who calls him buddy). “I’m -” *flops down* “not going anywhere.” ❤

- I love the way he takes a deep breath and straightens his posture for a second after Echo and Wrecker help him up.

- “There’s a fundamental difference between taking fire in battle and being used as target practice.” I love how upset he is about this. Also, he’s also backing up Wrecker’s feelings with his own here.

- None of the others make eye contact with Tarkin when he’s examining them. Tech does and practically glares at him. ❤

- I love his expression shift when Tarkin says the insurgents are Separatists. I can’t place the expression, but I love it. It’s almost like “Come on, I thought the war was over. Oh well.”

- I love his little disappointed look when Echo says he can’t crack the files. And then how he immediately offers to help.

- “That’s not going near my rack. I refuse to sleep by a projectile again.” AGAIN?!

- Tech comes right behind Hunter to exit the ship (and then leads them for a significant portion of their walk). Possibly symbolizing his position within the squad.

- Echo: “What was that?”

  Tech: “You don’t want to know.” 😑

- “Easy, Wrecker. Your programming’s kicking in.” I legit laughed out loud at this when I first watched the show. ❤

- His datapad lighting up his eyes makes him look so beautiful.

- Hunter always relies on him.

- The way he instantly senses that something’s wrong when he can’t see any droids in the camp.

- “There aren’t any droids, Wrecker.” You can tell that he’s starting to get a little agitated about this situation.

- Defending both sides when others choose one.

- Tech is the first one to ease up and stand down. Almost the second he hears Hunter start talking, like he knew he was going to tell them to back off. (And his eyes look stunning in that shot when he does. They immediately soften and become non-threatening.) You can just tell how much he and Hunter respect and trust each other. ❤

- He looks so pretty in this warm light of the camp. Who am I kidding, he looks good in every lighting.

- Geeking out over Saw. (And Saw is absolutely staring him down as he does. Like, they’re having a staring contest until he’s handed a weapon to examine. I don’t like that foreshadowing.)

- I also love the look on his face when Cross says “Is that a request?” I just always love his expressions.

- The way he leans forward with the tiniest hint of concern when Saw tells them to look at the insurgents they were sent to destroy. Anyone who says Tech is emotionless hasn’t been paying attention to him at all.

- His offended look when Saw said he thought he was the smart one.

- He is absolutely GORGEOUS in that shot where Crosshair says that the war is over. He’s literally flawless, and he’s perfect.

- “At least with the Republic, we knew where we stood. Tarkin and this Empire are a whole different story.”

- He literally jerks back in surprise when Cross says that Hunter isn’t fit to lead their squad.

- The concerned and confused look on his face when Hunter brings up Omega.

- “I would not discount Omega’s insight. A state of heightened awareness is not unusual for an enhanced clone such as herself.” Standing up for Omega before he knows her that well. ❤

- “When Nala Se spoke of five clones, Tarkin assumed that meant us, but Echo’s a reg. The fifth is Omega.”

- “Well, I thought it was obvious.” Leans against the doorframe like he couldn’t care less. ❤

- That glare when Crosshair suggests leaving Omega on Kamino.

- His little breath before saying “this is unusual” just makes him feel so alive to me.

- I love how he’s constantly glancing over and making eye contact with Crosshair. These two were so close.

- HIS BLACKS. TECH IN HIS BLACKS. Hallelujah for this scene. We wouldn’t be nearly as familiar with everyone's body types without it. Gorgeous man. Everyone likes to talk about Hunter's tiny waist, but Tech's is just as snatched.

- “Well, the mission wasn’t a total failure.” Of course he’s the first one to notice Omega. ❤

- His face is so warm and happy when he sees Omega. And then he immediately shifts to unamused at Crosshair’s complaint. ❤

- He shoots another tiny smile Omega’s way when Hunter says they were looking for her.

- “I never thought you disobeying orders was a problem.” Facts, love.

- Crosshair never directs his anger at Tech. It’s always at the others. Even if Tech does say something he doesn’t like, he doesn’t get mad until someone else expounds upon it, and then he snaps at them. Cross clearly has a favorite here.

- Cross starts shaking his head with clear distress and frustration when Wrecker says that they disobey orders all the time, and you can see that Tech notices it. He tilts his head and frowns a little bit. ❤

- The concerned look he and Echo exchange when Crosshair starts to confront Hunter again.

- He looks freaked out when the guards hit Hunter. 

- Reaching out for Crosshair when they take him away. That broke my heart when I first noticed it. ❤

- The way he bounces his leg when he’s thinking hard. ❤

- “I’ve got it! Why didn’t I think of it before?”

- He talks with his hands. ❤

- Covering his mouth when Wrecker talks too loud.

- Running his fingers over the wall to see where the weak point is. ❤

- The confusion and worry on his face when Wrecker says it still didn’t work. Gorgeous, gorgeous.

- The way he glances over at Hunter (or probably the guards) before going over to help Wrecker. Ugh, he’s literally perfect.

- “Oh, yes it did.” ❤

- Bending a metal panel with his bare hands like it’s nothing. My man is strong! I love how he doesn’t follow the trope of the nerdy character being weak.

- Wrecker: “I’ll never fit through that!” 

Tech shakes his head. “Astute as always, Wrecker.”

- I love the way he rolls his eyes and facepalms when Wrecker blows their cover.

- Grabbing a blaster and stunning the last conscious guard. He shoots twice, just to be sure, and carries the blaster. He’s such a boss.

- Turning to confirm the guards aren’t dead (or going to follow them) before leaving the brig.

- Tech looks so cute when he tells Wrecker to hold still.

- I love how Tech serves as the unofficial medic (with Echo’s help, of course).

- Omega: “I guess I got lucky.”

Tech: “She's not the only one.” *gestures to Wrecker without looking up* ❤

- "What's the plan, Hunter?"

- Omega: “What about your friends? Could any of them help us?” 

Tech: “That would be a short list.” 

- The way he leans in and smiles so brightly when Omega asks that question.

- His smile when Hunter tells him to plot a course for J-19. ❤

- I love the way he shakes his head with clear affection when Wrecker cheers this time.

[weirdsht]

Disillusioned 26 . I Blinked and Suddenly..?

a/n: Happy last chapter! I hope you enjoyed reading this series! Also, it's my first time writing something like this wish me luck! I might upload some side stories though, there's some discarded chapters I didn't include that I think would be fun to use as side chapters.

tags: feelings have finally progressed, a bit chaotic

English isn’t my first language so there will be grammatical errors

Pls don't repost my work anywhere without my permission

Constructive criticisms and any kind of interaction are more than welcome

Requests are currently closed but my ask are still open (read pinned)

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3 months. That’s how long Cale Henituse had been gone to complete the Sealed God’s test. Time flew faster on Earth 2 but it was still a long time.

Too long.

He enjoyed his experience there. Enjoyed rewriting fate and healing his despair. He knows it will not rewrite his past nor make him forget. Nonetheless, he was happy.

But his even happier to be back to his home. To his family. 

That’s why he allowed himself to be emotional. To bask in the moment while accepting his family's greeting. Even the deadly barrier did little to ruin his mood.

Perhaps he had been too emotional. Maybe he let his emotions get the best of him.

As he stepped out of the grass bed, that’s devoid of barriers, he finally saw one of the people he had been looking for the most.

_____.

3 months. They have been apart for 3 months. Again, it was faster on Cale’s end but it was still too long of a time.

He feels his heart beat faster in his chest. And no it’s not because of the Vitality of the Heart.

Surge of emotions passed him as he stared at their face. They had been waiting at the back, letting the kids and everyone else have their moment first. A smile graced their faces as they watched the scene unfold before them.

“Welcome home. I missed you.”

_____ smiled warmly at him, and for a moment he thought his brains malfunctioned a little.

“Do you know just how much my heart longed for you while I was away?”

‘I’m home. I missed you all too.’

Okay, maybe it wasn’t just a little.

“Cale..? Excuse… me..?”

Fuck it all.

How could he do something so stupid as getting his thoughts and speech mixed up?

For a moment Cale wanted to return to Earth 2.

It didn’t help that in the corner of his eyes he could see Rosalyn holding a communication device with Alberu on the other side of the line. The mage probably called him after sensing that something interesting was going to happen.

Cale didn’t notice the video recording orb on Raon’s hand. If he did he might’ve coughed out blood on the spot.

“Cale..? Are you okay?”

_____ walked towards the silent Cale. They touched his forehead to see if he was sick or something. A blush still coating their face from Cale’s unexpected confession.

“...I’m fine. But for now, let’s talk.”

The redhead drags the healer to one of the empty rooms in the black castle. Behind them, he could hear Beacrox saying he’d start cooking dishes for Choi Han and him. 

_____ sat on a couch inside the room, waiting for Cale to speak. Their mind was too chaotic from his words to start the conversation.

“I… I mean…I’m-”

Cale stammers. It’s so uncharacteristic of him. He never stammers. But he truly doesn’t know what to say. Mind too chaotic to let proper words out.

“Take your time. It’s okay, just say whatever you want to say.”

_____ encourages him while squeezing his hand. It does more bad than good, their bodily warmth making his brain go into even more overdrive. It kind of feels similar to when he overuses Record.

“You probably could tell already from what I said earlier. I have feelings for you. I adore you.”

He decided to not make any excuses. The cat was already out of the bag, might as well make it roam around the house.

“Oh… so you do…”

Cale’s heart drops at the response. It sounds as if the healer was deep in thought.

But it’s fine, they don’t need to return his feelings. As long as they’d still be friends Cale is satisfied enough with that.

As long as their happy Cale will be happy.

“This is a bit comedic…”

_____ started speaking and Cale pushed away his thoughts to listen.

“Back at the Endable Kingdom, I told myself I would let go of my feelings for you. Especially when you were inside that orb. I told myself that I would be satisfied with our current standing.”

Oh

Oh

They felt the same way.

_____ actually feels the same way!

“I didn't expect our feelings to be mutual.”

The healer offered a wobbly smile. One that’s full of emotions.

“I have feelings for you too. And I’ve had them for a while now.”

Everything at once came crashing down on Cale. The confession being the trigger of it all. He felt a myriad of emotions to the point he wasn’t sure what he was feeling anymore.

In spite of everything he had the mind the pull them into a hug. A hug where he conveyed all the feelings he couldn’t say out loud. All the love and longing he has felt. All the hesitation and doubt.

He showed it through that hug.

The healer reciprocated it too. Showing all of their unfiltered emotions in the embrace. From their regrets to the abundance of affection they have for Cale. _____ left nothing out.

“Can I kiss you?”

If Cale is allowing his emotions to control the situation, he might as well go all out.

He opened his eyes that he didn’t notice he closed to see _____ nodding in approval.

With nothing else to hold him back, Cale leaned in until their lips touched. His eyes closing once they do.

If their hug felt as though a door opened to a field of emotions then this kiss felt like a whole new world.

Their movements are sweet, gentle. As if the other was glass that would break if they moved the wrong way. As if they were a feather that would fly away if the wind blew too hard.

Care and love were poured into the kiss. In fact, it was the only thing they could feel. The longing they felt these past months. Inhibition is now being let go after so long— concern for the other’s well-being is showing itself instead.

Such things were being conveyed in a single kiss.

And Cale doesn’t want it to end.

But alas, they are merely humans who need air to live. They also have a lot of things to get done.

“Don’t frown like that silly. We can continue later. For now, we have a lot of business to take care of.”

_____ laughed at Cale before giving him one last peck on the cheek before opening the door.

Thump!

Crash!

Several people toppled over as the door opened. There was even a communication and a video recording device in the mix.

“AHAHAHAHA! Were you guys trying to listen in? Even the rising sun of our kingdom is trying to gossip.”

Cale felt his mild irritation be washed away at his lover’s laugh.

Lover…

That sounds good.

It sounds really good.

“Is this really something that would pique your interest? Enough to eavesdrop like that?”

“But it took you long enough human!”

Raon’s chubby paw pointed at him accusingly. As if he was an avid watcher of a romance telenovela and the main couple finally got together.

Cale raised his hands at the toddler’s action. He didn’t know why he was surrendering but it felt appropriate at the moment.

“Young master, the food has been prepared.”

Ron smiled benignly as if he wasn’t one of the people eavesdropping. To his credit, he was doing it stealthily. 

But still.

“Go eat. As they said you and Choi Han looked a bit skinnier than before. You must eat your fill.”

_____ dragged his hand out of the room. Ignoring the people, and devices, flat on the ground.

Everything was chaotic. From the confession to the situation now. All of it happened suddenly, a bunch of spur-of-the-moment scenarios clustered in one.

However.

Cale and _____ wouldn’t change anything even if given the chance.

For this was their family. A mismatched group of people that somehow came together. And they wouldn’t trade it for anything else in the world.

[casteliacityramen]

Previous post (mini recap)

"Can we talk?"

"That depends if you'll yell at me and take off again."

"Depending on what you say, I just might."

[PART 1 OF 2]

"... Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't know how to, without... that... happening. It was sheer coincidence that led Ingram’s descendants to keep coming here. I didn't think you'd believe me," Ray responded telepathically.

"I still don't."

"I have nothing to gain by lying to you."

She hates that part of him, how he manages to sound so disingenuous while still telling the truth. There's always something underneath the surface, but he never goes there unless she pokes and prods. She could have ended that explanation right then and there, but she continues.

"But not telling me that the Dewott that I've seen every other night was a Matsumoto this entire time? Keeping that to yourself is okay?"

One of the many problems of an infinite lifespan means that there's no longer agency to anything. There's no immediate need to address any personal matters when they theoretically have all the time left in the world.

He figured that he could have talked to her further down the line, when they both settled down and processed all of their feelings... Or so he thought. 

Touchy subject or not, it was starting to sink in that he should've talked about this sooner. Granted, he never would have guessed that the circumstances would have led them to where they were now. Neither of them imagined that today would’ve gone like this.

"Of course not...

... But can you blame me when you reacted like you did?"

"Alright, asshole, I came to apologize but if you’re going to-"

"You scared me."

"Rio, when you were released, when you found me again, you sat on that seat and you said…”

“... Nothing.”

The two of them sit still, time grinding to a halt while Ray’s eyes roamed the space underneath his hands–as if the grain in the wooden countertop was magically providing him instructions on how to organize his words.

Gods, he wished.

"You were so quiet, it was unsettling. You’ve never been one to shy away from talking about how you feel, so I know that something went terribly wrong. A Matsumoto stopping by every now and then seemed so inconsequential at the time. But… the more I thought about telling you, the more I second guessed myself.

So I left it unspoken. I had a feeling you would be angry with me and I was right... But I never thought you'd be furious.

We carried on quietly for the past six months because I wanted you to take the first step. I figured that you’d be ready whenever you felt like you it, but I should have told you about this without having to make you dredge up the past by yourself."

I'm sorry."

"This is supposed to be my apology about yelling at you, you prick." Rio telepathically mutters, not expecting this level of genuine introspection from him. "How am I supposed to follow that?"

She watches as Ray visibly laughs off the tension in his shoulders. She lets out a short huff in response, turning back to the counter.

"I thought I was fine. I thought I was better than this–above it all. We went through something like this before, back when we first started. I thought we’d shrug it off like we did last time, but then I snapped like a toothpick today."

Ray watches as her face scrunches up in a cocktail of negative emotions. She seems like she's physically struggling to get anything out, which is an effort that didn't go unnoticed by Ray.

"I think running a ramen stand as a rockruff is exactly how I am now: absolutely useless. I'm not allowed to be useful. I'm not allowed to do my job as a Shepherd.

And that's a good thing, because now I can't stop thinking about all my mistakes--all the people I failed to protect. There's no use in a guardian angel that loses faith in herself."

She turns, facing the street, thankful that it was relatively empty at this time of hour.

“So... I sat here, on this very stool, watching every day as everybody moved on with their lives without a care in the world. Ordinary people who seem to be doing fine without me.” 

Rio shakes her head at the term "ordinary people,” laughing bitterly as she turns back around.

“I know I’m being stupid. A carefree life for everyone is what we work so hard for, yet I feel so… so pissed off at them for being none-the-wiser.

Imagine that: being mad that peace is the new ‘ordinary.’ Angry that these people don't know what it's like to live with the constant threat of death, even though none of them deserve it. It makes me feel like a shitty shepherd.

I thought it'd be easier if I slept through those moments, but every other time I fall asleep, I have a nightmare. When I try to think of anything else, all I can think about is how this all started. I thought about all the things we did to get to this point. I couldn't, and still can't, stop thinking about everything I did wrong back then and now.”

Ray heaves a heavy sigh, partly because he feels relieved that she's opening up to him, but another partly because he knows exactly what she's talking about.

“Yeah.”

She didn’t need him to say anything else. She knows that he knows. She'll tell him the full extent of what she went through and what she's going through, but that's for another day. That isn't the purpose of this specific conversation, after all.

She paws the empty glass around on the table sheepishly for a long moment. Finally, she gathers herself and turns to him.

“I’m sorry I made you cry.” 

“I know.”

“Thanks for putting up with me.”

“You’ve been there for me. I wouldn't have it any other way.”

[Next]

[litnerdwrites]

This can't be seen as anything but racist to me.

We know three things about Illyrians based on what the IC have said in the books:

They are violent Misogynists, to the point where they believe mutilating women is supposed to be completely normal.

They are a warrior race who value status & bloodlines more than anything, happily throwing away and abusing those bastards and those considered weak.

They're super stubborn about the aforementioned points.

Nothing about the 'rich culture' that Illyria supposedly has. How does that make Rhys comparing Nesta to an Illyrian, especially as a woman, anything but insulting. It very much gives the same vibe as somebody insulting you, and then laughing it off because it's 'just a joke' even if it hurts you, putting you in an awkward position where your feelings are undermined but it's hard to speak up without seeming like you're making a mountain out of a molehill.

As things stand, all signs point to Rhys & Co. Not liking Illyrians. I'd argue that they outright hate Illyrians. So how could any comparison made between Nesta and an Illyrian be anything but an insult?

It's also unbelievably racist. The IC happily make comments about how terrible Illyria is and how it's cold and miserable. Mor says it right as they're walking through Illyria, so clearly they don't try to hide their distaste. The lack of Illyrian women in the library is also concerning, given that they're well aware of the treatment of women there, and in the HC. Why is that? Rhys is The Most Powerful High Lord, he could bring women to the library no problem, using his authority to overrule the Illyrians and save them, but doesn't. Why? Is maintaining an army worth the suffering of thousands? What about the orphans and bastards who are left with nothing? Or the children beaten regularly? Could he not do anything about that? Build more shelters, help provide more food, and other goods through trade?

Speaking of oppressed women, when Rhys compared Nesta to Illyrians, was he comparing to the oppressed women who are mutilated and abused regularly? Or the abusers who regularly mutilate and abuse women? Cause I have a feeling I know which and yet people still argue that Nesta 'should be grateful to him' and 'has said worse'.

Also, just generally, comparing a person you don't like or who you feel has wronged you, to an entire race of people you speak only negatively about, is racist. Especially when the original person isn't part of that race, like who tf do you think you are?

Even if Rhys did, hypothetically, mean it as a compliment, that doesn't make it any less racist or messed up. It means he has to reevaluate his view on the Illyrians, and learn more about them before ever speaking about/on behalf of them again.

Finally, let's talk about the 'she has no excuse' line.

First off, Nesta is having a very valid and common trauma response. One that I'm sure would be common in Illyria given how the Illyrians are a warrior race, and war is, well, traumatising. Veterans with ptsd, children being turned into soldiers, or beaten for having the audacity to be born with a uterus, families grieving the loss of mothers, fathers, daughters, wives, husbands, cousins, sons, sisters, brothers, friends, aunts, etc. Illyria, based on what we know, is probably ripe with traumatised people, and alcoholism, gambling and sex are some of the most common coping mechanisms for trauma. So what do you mean no excuse? Not even just Illyrian, but many people struggle with.

But, at the end of the day, a person's skin color has no bearing on what's an 'acceptable' form of coping. Suffering is suffering. Trauma is trauma. As things stood, the entirety of the IC were so unbelievably lucky that Nesta hadn't committed suicide, even by that point. Thinking of the potential suicides in both the HC and Illyria is actually terrifying, given the amount of trauma that the people from either location have to endure.

It makes you wonder what Mr. mental-health-matters-and-your-trauma-is-valid-Rhysand does to help the Illyrians to cope with their trauma? What resources do they have? Is there a library for them? What about a counselor, like the priestesses have? What about in the HC? What about the toxic masculinity that pressures boys into being strong soldiers, and abuse women? Being taught that they're there for domestic labour and child bearing, and nothing more?

Do you know what it feels like to be suffering in your own head, to the point you're contemplating an early grave, feeling alone, and unworthy of even the slightest affection or help, and everyone in your life just confirms your worst fears? Do you know how it feels to want to scream at the top of your lungs that everything from waking up to drinking water feels like the most difficult, painful thing you've ever done? Do you know how it feels when everyone tells you how much they love you, and want you to be happy, only to hate yourself even more when you can barely muster a smile for their sake, and all you can do in their presence is disassociate and try not to fall apart, as you hear your father's murder over and over again in your head?

Do you know what it feels like to be reminded time and time again how great you have it, and to be thankful, and that you should be happy for your life, and for the sake of others, and that it'll be better once you conform, and push everything down and let the world see you as a happy smiley person even if it kills you? Or what about when you're ridiculed, and insulted and spoken down to for the way you cope, the only thing keeping you alive? To never be able to let anyone see that part of you that's dying, because they care more about coping 'the right way' and appearances than you're wellbeing, is the most suffocating, lonely experience you could imagine.

If Nesta had conformed and interacted with the IC the way they wanted her to, I wholeheartedly believe she'd've been dead within a week. This is what Nesta's enduring, and the so called feminist, pro mental health, anti misogynist 'king' is saying things like that?

Seriously, it's such a small line, but it points to so many issues that people just refuse to acknowledge. It just comes off as Rhys being a misogynist who victim blames anyone who doesn't keep up appearances with him and his band of clowns and psychos.

thinking about the time rhysand said “nesta is… she’s illyrian. I mean that as a compliment, but she’s an illyrian at heart. so there is no excuse for her behavior.”

and that behavior is... playing cards at seedy taverns while spending the money rhysand owes her? if she's an illyrian at heart then maybe he'd prefer she go on a rampage and slaughter an entire village? rhys trying to pass this off as a compliment is also ridiculous because everything sjm has written about illyrians paints them as savage, violent monsters with bigoted/misogynistic beliefs. he is so foul for this

[tales-of-wocdes]

Heya! Never written an ask before but I love this story and the snippets so much that I decided to give it a go! Genuinely, this is the only blog where I read every ask. So! I actually have two burning questions, but it seems like it's better to send them as separate asks so I'll probably do that. Hope that's alright! Anyway, the first question is:

Say MC somehow gains a vague understanding of what Mama and Papa mean- how would Lexia and Havard react to being called Mama and Papa respectively?

Hi! Glad to be your first ask! And thank you for all the kind words!

So this is a hard one... kudos for not pulling any punches on your first ask :D Going straight for the big stuff, I like it and dread it in equal measure.

Since this seems like something that could easily happen in game, I will put the snippets below the line. I suppose I am calling spoilers, though I don't think I reveal anything that was not in the demo though people might have missed it.

And I reserve the right to change anything I want later, as always :D But let's call this a thank you for 10 k browser plays :D

------------HAVARD-----------

"Papa?" You asked one evening as Havard was tucking you into bed. It was phrased a bit like a question but you think you understand what it means. You saw children out in the city use the word.

There was only one person you knew that the word fit, and that was Havard.

Havard froze in place, and paled.

Why? What did you do?

He was staring at you with wide eyes, and a range of expressions passed across his face.

Joy, sorrow, anger, pain...

So many expressions.

So much pain.

Then you saw the tears falling down his cheeks.

You sat up in bed, alarmed and panicked. This was not like the Havard you knew... Havard was the one who helped you not hurt! This was all wrong. He smiled at you, and helped you eat, and took care of you. This wasn't what you wanted.

What did you do? Why is he hurting?

Havard did not give you the chance to ask. He knelt by your bed and wrapped you up in a hug. It was warm and snug. Yet, he held onto you for dear life with a desperation, as if afraid you would disappear... and you had no idea why.

"I... I never thought... Thank you." He whispered. You could feel the wetness against your cheek.

You think you misheard him at first. Why is he thanking you? You made him hurt?

Then he repeats it. Twice, thrice. He keeps repeating it, and hugging you tighter, and tighter. Yet, never too hard. He would never hurt you. You know this.

You are confused... but you hug him back as hard as you can.

"Thank you, papa." You whispered back to him. You did not need to specify what you were thankful for.

It was for everything.

------------LEXIA-----------

"Mama?" You said, phrasing it as a question. You think you understand what it means. You saw children out in the city use the word.

Lexia froze, face going very blank. She stared at you with wide eyes, uncertain about what to do.

Then she knelt down in front of you.

"You sure kid? That you wanna use such a big and important word on me?" She asked, voice oddly soft... and a little choked up? It didn't suit her usual style... but you thought this was Lexia too. Uncertain behind all her smiles, but usually hiding it well. That slightly awkward person who was afraid of being scolded by Alessa as much as the twins were. Lexia who loved teasing Havard, and testing his patience.

Lexia who sometimes used bad words, and let you get away with eating cookies before dinner. Lexia who was always there, Protecting you. From others and yourself.

"Mama." You repeated, a bit more certainly. It felt right.

Lexia inspected your face for a long time. Then she hugged you. Much more gently than usual, yet just as firmly. She was wearing her armor, but somehow the hug was warm. She even trapped your hands by accident.

"Ok... if you are sure..." She whispered to your ear. "I... I don't know if I am worthy of it, but I will try to be."

You could not see her face... You wondered what kind of a face she was making right now. You however could nuzzle her cheek.

It made her laugh.

That was all you wanted.

[voxofthevoid]

relate to being turned off from satosugu bc of the fandom. especially being on twitter makes me feel crazy omg bc i'll see posts where people are straight up acting like gojo was completely fine with what geto did bc gojo is just oh so down bad for him and loves him more than anyone else in the world and he doesnt care about anything he just wants geto back. and that is just. so untrue and also so boring, imo.

Because to me, gojo truly *is* a good person in his actions. he says crass things and maybe his mentality can be detached at times, but he always helps people where it counts. Even when he was taking Riko's body away and he asked geto if he should just kill the cult members and geto said no- I have a hard time picturing gojo actually going through with it even if geto *had* said yes. Because for all that gojo postures, I don't think he truly has that kind of bloodlust and rage in him, imo. Not even saying that I think killing those cult members would've been bad, or that Gojo would never ever kill anybody (simply not true), I just simply don't think gojo wouldve stopped walking, turned around, and killed allll those people in that instance (or if he did, I think he wouldve felt,,, off about it afterwards, despite what he said).

But I see so many stsg shippers who act like the only reason gojo was heartbroken about the situation was just because geto left him, and not bc, yaknow, geto committed reprehensible atrocities and became a supremacist. and i'm like,,, are we watching the same show? it's truly such a BAFFLING perspective of the relationship to me. like why erase their moral differences ? doesn't that make the ship more interesting? Sometimes I feel like the reason they do that is bc they can't handle the fact that Geto post-defection is seriously NOT a good person. at all.

stsg as a ship could be sooo much more interesting, imo, if people didn't erase the fact that geto BETRAYED gojo with what he did. not just the leaving. the village massacre, the parricide, the fact that he had no shame about it and stuck by his actions. all of those things betrayed gojo. bc i think gojo truly does want to help people, and he thought that, no matter how hard it was, he would always have geto along with him to do it, and that would make the pressure easier. instead geto chose to become one of the people that makes gojos job harder, lmao.

i think if shippers actually acknowledged that fact the ship wouldn't feel so fucking boring to me.

I’d save you from Twitter if I could, friend. Not saying other sites are free of harebrained idiots. I have Getou and satosugu blocked here for a reason, and I’ve seen screenshots of rancid fucking takes from TikTok and Instagram. Even Reddit—and I’m talking about canon discussion subreddits that generally ban ship talk—didn’t spare me from having to see people’s most reductive takes on this ship. But Twitter in particular seems to be where brain cells go to die.

Nothing in the world can make satosugu compelling to me, but objectively, it’s a ship with rich potential—for angst, for drama, for fluff, for toxicity, for love, for hate, for all of it combined. Like you’ve said, one of the most interesting facets of their relationship is how their bond culminates in betrayal. I’m personally quite interested in the fact that Gojou killed Getou despite loving him, after sparing him for eleven years because of the very same love. It’s not like Getou was ever harmless—he was a special-grade curse user, not the kind of threat you want running around. His cult activities and killings weren’t exactly subtle either. That angle—the fact that love makes Gojou turn a blind eye to Getou’s actions until he crosses a line even Gojou can’t abide—is very, very interesting to me as someone quite obsessed with Gojou’s characterization. People who have an equivalent interest in Getou would find plenty there to peel apart, probably. The two of them together would also offer rich, nuanced grounds for exploration, and I’m sure there are people doing just that.

But fandom spaces as a whole have become exceptionally sanitized recently. I’m not talking about people who generally simply prefer fluff and write that regardless of canon dynamics; there’s nothing wrong with that. We’re all allowed our self-indulgent tastes. But what you’ve described—a tendency to erase characters’ dark or grey morality, to think along black-and-white lines that put people into neat little boxes, to remove unsavory or unhealthy elements from relationships—has been plaguing fandoms more and more, especially fandoms with a large number of young(er) fans. JJK is definitely one of those.

I’ve seen similar takes on a lot of JJK ships as well as platonic relationships, like goyuu shippers asking why fic authors write Gojou as predatory toward Yuuji in canon settings with their canon ages (yeah, a real mystery why a 28 y/o romancing/fucking a 15 y/o would be written as predatory) and dad!Gojou truthers earnestly arguing that Gojou has paternal feelings toward Megumi (or Yuuji or his students in general) and is also such a good dad. I’ve seen it with even sukugo and tojigo, in the brief days before both wound up on my blacklist.

Basically, it’s a fandom-wide issue in the English-speaking JJK sphere (I’m sure the Eastern side and other language/region-specific sides have their own debates and issues, but I’m unfamiliar with those), and because satosugu is the biggest ship in this sphere, it has a significantly larger number of voices making themselves heard—as well as a significantly larger number of nuance-allergic dumbasses making themselves heard. The latter tends to be so fucking loud, often drowning out the other voices. It can feel inescapable, even with filters and shit.

[gallavichsreddie1128]

OverProtective (Spock TOS)

Description: After Y/N hurts herself on a mission, Spock becomes overprotective

Word Count: 1,257

Request:Could you please do a Data x Reader or Spock x Reader fan ficm. Preferably where he is protective of the reader. Smut or no smut is fine just have fun with it! But if you don't want to that's totally understandable, thank you!

Y/N sat on the bed as Bones examined her broken arm. “You’re gonna need surgery.” He tells her and she sighs. Great. The mission couldn’t have gone worse…well she could be dead. Bones had given her a lot of sprays to numb the pain and she was very thankful that but if she even looks at her arm she feels the pain. Spock was through the door moments later. Y/N couldn’t even look at him as she could tell that in his own way he was glaring at her for not being more careful. “It uh it wasn’t my fault.” She told him and she knew that if he allowed himself he would have rolled his eyes. “You are going to need surgery for that.” He tells her as if Bones didn’t already. “She knows that you pointy eared hobgoblin. Now go.” He tells Spock so he can fix her arm. 

It’s been awhile since that had happened and Spock would not let her out of his sight. Even with her arm better she hasn’t been on a mission in so long and couldn’t understand why. Did the Captain think that this would happen again? Kirk actually assigned her to a few missions but Spock removed her from them and assigned someone else. Y/N had no idea about this until she went to talk to Kirk about it. “I assigned you to a few missions Y/N but Spock took you off them for your safety.” Her eyes widened and she couldn’t believe that her boyfriend would do such a thing. She was mad and the look on her face said so, so when Kirk left the room with an awkward goodbye Y/N ran to their quarters. Spock had the day off but he was gonna wish he hadn’t. “So you’re the reason why I haven’t gone on any missions?” Y/N accused him. “I reassigned you from them for your safety.” He tells her not bothered by her outbursts. “What the fuck, Spock. That is not okay. Why would you do that?” It was like she had missed the part about being concerned for her safety. “I want you to be safe and on missions you do not seem to be.” Her eyes widened. “One mission goes wrong and you do this?” “Y/N it is not my intention to make you mad at me but you must understand that your life was on the line.” “Your life is on the line all the time Spock” “Yes but I am Vulcan so it is much harder for me to be harmed.” She laughed. A sarcastic and unbelievable laugh. “So this is what this is about? You view me as a weak human and you think you are better than me.” “I did not say that.” “Spock you say it all the time to Kirk and Bones in your own twisted way!” She yelled at him. “You aren’t my mother, you don’t get to tell me what to do and take away opportunities from me!” She goes on. “I am your superior, I am above you in the line of work.” Oh wow. “Okay Spock I don’t care. You are not to reassign me from missions or else.” “If that is how you feel then maybe we should.” But before he could finish his sentence she held up a hand. “Don’t. Don’t try that on me because you think it is illogical to argue. It is illogical for you to mess with your girlfriend’s work.” 

Christine and Y/N sat in her quarters as they ate and talked about what happened. “Like he thinks that’s okay and for what? He has no right to do that and it’s like everytime we get in to an argument he tries to end the relationship.” Christine listens as Y/N rants about him. “Spock is just like that. But I do know this. He loves you very much.” Y/N rolled her eyes at that. She started to not believe that. “Think about it. He doesn’t want you getting hurt and yes he’s going about it the wrong way but still.” Y/N sighed. Christine was right Spock was being overprotective but he was going overboard with it. 

Y/N decided to spend the night in Christine’s quarters not wanting to deal with Spock. She forgot to tell him about it since she was so mad at him. In the morning, she had gotten up and Christine was already gone. So she left her quarters and returned to hers to see that Spock was also already gone. She yawned and decided to take a shower before her shift. She headed to the bridge where everyone was and Spock noticed her. She didn’t even look in his direction. Spock had no idea where she was and he couldn’t even think until he saw that she was okay. “Morning Y/N.” “Morning Kirk.” She said and got to her station that was unfortunately right by Spock’s. “You did not attend our quarters last night. I was worried.” She thought about ignoring him but he never admits his emotions. “I was sleeping at Christine’s.” She said without looking at him. “I would like to be notified when you decide you would not like to sleep in our quarters.” That just made her more angry. “And I would like a boyfriend that isn’t up my ass about everything and ruins my opportunity to go on missions.” She growled at him. “It is not my attempt to stop you from going to work but with your recent injury it is logical that you do not go on any.” “Spock my arm is healed, you can stop with that bullshit.” “It is not bullshit. It is me loving you!” The Bridge stared at the Vulcan. Y/N stared at her boyfriend in shock. He had never had an outbursts or even yelled let alone at work. Without asking Kirk if he could be excused he left. “Sure Spock you are excused.” Kirk mumbled. Y/N shook her head and got back to work. 

It never left her mind. His outburst and the fact that he admitted to loving her in public. He rarely ever said it. It never bothered her that he didn’t say it she knew that he loved her. She loved him but she was getting sick of him babying her. She sighed and opened their quarters door. “Spock are you in here?” She asked. She saw him at his desk and he looked tired. “Spock are you okay?” She asked and walked closer to him. “I do not know.” He said and truthfully that worried her. “Spock you’ve never done that before.” She said and sat next to him. “I know and that is why I had to leave my station. I think I am sick.” Y/N held back a laugh. He wasn’t sick. He just wasn’t used to having that much emotion. “Spock you’re not sick. We both are just frustrated with the situation. I love you Spock and I don’t want us leaving each other but you have to let me be me and go on missions and do my job.” She said. “I apologize for holding you back.” He said and looked at her. “You don’t hold me back Spock but this was a little annoying.” She said and he understood that this job was never promised to be easy. “Now how about you relax the rest of the night and maybe take Tomorrow off. You need rest.” She tells him. He looks at her and smirks. “Now who’s being overprotective?”

[brrdhouse]

i had to take a while before even STARTING to type this response because i was jittering too hard in excitement, real footage of me attached vvv

... this is me the next morning realizing nothing i wrote saved correctly. anywho.

first of all, please talk more about your au. i love god aus, i need to know as much lore as you're willing to tell me.

i also understand moving from more popular to problematic/ obscure faves. stan and mabel are and will also be close to my heart, but when i'm really thinking about it? pacifica, gideon, and weirdly the two surviving clones from double dipper are the ones i love the most.

i feel a little dumb overanalyzing it all, but i don't think people nowadays talk about how tragic the characters of pacifica and gideon really are. pacifica was trained on a bell, for gods sake, that's horrifying! she was conditioned to be the perfect obedient yet unsympathic child the northwests could have. gideon was a child star being corrupted by dark magic, which is already horrible without my early grave headcanon. not to mention the possibility that bud was using the memory gun on his own son. (when i get you bud gleeful... better watch out)

i think they'd bond on the idea of the ever-praised (thank you so much, i'm so happy that line landed as well as it did) "outcast yet above it all" because they understand each other in a way no one else in the group could. yeah, pacifica was close with other zodiac members, and yeah, they all had moments they weren't proud of, but none of them understood how good those moments had felt for her. it felt good to command a crowd. to be the center of attention. to ridicule others because you were just.. above them.

but gideon did. and he didn't scold her when she made a mean comment, or call her selfish when she'd split something and give him the smaller portion, because they both knew he could slip up and do the same. no matter how much they both tried to be good people, they were raised to be terrible people and that wasn't something that could just go away.

she had spent the last few years carving a crack in her metaphorical walls for him to slip through, and his death made her want to tear the whole thing down and start anew. but then there was wendy hugging her as the ambulance arrived, and dipper holding her hand at the funeral, and mcgucket checking in on her with whatever he could do to get her spirits up, and it all left her more willing to be vulnerable to the others. they could never fully understand why she did the things she did, not like he had, but they could try and that was enough sometimes.

touching on robbie before i talk about them all as a whole, i think his anger does finally start to simmer instead of constantly boiling over. he'll never not be angry, he'd have to mad-scientist gideon back alive and knock some sense into his parents to stop, but it didn't have to consume him.

that first year after the funeral, his friends didn't know what to do with him. he was an asshole, true and honest, moreso than he was as a kid, and it sucked. he didn't like the fact that he was self-isolating, but the hot rage that filled him everytime he saw something weird or dangerous or really anything related to his hometown was blinding and indiscriminatory on who it landed on.

he thinks that coffee meet with mabel saved him. they talked, and she was amicable in the face of his irritation, but he could feel how she skirted over the same topics he should. no weirdness. no grieving, other than her own. she mentions once, how upsetting it was to be at that funeral, openly weeping, when some people couldn't manage a single tear. but when she starts gripping the paper cup tight enough for it to strain, she takes a breath, looks out the window, and blinks away the tears of frustration.

he asks how she handles it, and she says, "i don't. not really. i just stopped trying to tell other people how they should grieve, even if i think they're being insensitive douchebags," ending it with a strained giggle.

and so he starts letting that anger transform, melting into cool numbness that's easier to work with. when the depression gets bad enough that he starts calling out of work, nate starts bringing over food, and wendy makes her little brothers—although they aren't so little anymore—go over there to clean the dark corner of the world that robbie had settled in after the anger faded. tambry and lee force him to hang out with them again, and eventually he starts liking it.

even after he gets back on his feet, he's still angry. but it doesn't burn as bright, or as hot. it sparks when he talks to his parents, but he lets it wash over him, talks to mabel about it days later and wonder how the annoying twelve-year-old he used to scoff at had become so dear to him. he starts talking to the rest of them more, finds a similar—but not the same, never the same—bond in the northwest girl, and starts living his life again.

i'm really happy that you liked the robbie section in my other response!! it's definitely the one i was proudest of when writing it, so knowing that it's appreciated just makes me so giddy

and yes!! i love the idea that while gideon's death isn't a good thing by any means, it does bring the rest of them together. they're trying to fill the void that the loss left, and they can never get him back but they can find him in each other. evil thoughts about other characters' deaths and the reactions, but stan is the next to go and that actually brings some of them further apart, in my evil heart i mostly mean that about dipper and mabel, and how that divides the group, but all of them are impacted in some way. it doesn't take another death to bring them together again, that's just cruel, but i like the idea of the group losing their favorite conmen impacting them in different ways.

the idea of the zodiac as a family, as a whole, is one of my favorites. like yes, they've gone through unspeakable horrors, most of them aren't codependent but they still need each other, and eventually begin to function as a family unit no matter how much they try to deny it. specifically about the other members of the antagonist trio, they saw gideon as an annoying little brother, and look towards the people they've begun to see as siblings and parents—in the stead of being only children with bad relationships with their parents—for comfort and guidance. it's all very dear to me.

and augh, just really quick before i send this off, deity!robbie being there to get the rest of them... them not being his, but still caring for them and wanting to fight for them to be together, even in the cold expanse of the void. hearing gideon's laughter and incoherent whispers and knowing that this one's his favorite, but it still needs its family... tearing my heart out, clawing my skin off, etc. etc.

this took a minute longer than i wanted it to because tumblr hates me and i'm trying to redownload my skyrim set-up at the same time (i'm a multi-tasking king, i say, floundering at my desk), but it's here! i'm happy with it! i checked all the points on my bullet list that i wanted to! amazing!

teen gideon headcanons because i love him :] i am constantly thinking about him and how he's the only zodiac member (and honestly, only main-ish character because of the book of bill and the website) that doesn't get a sympathetic moment, other than POSSIBLY the finale but that barely counts

i think he deserves to have a SORT OF redemption, at least internally, because he took dipper's advice in weirdmageddon to heart. even if he gets over his crush on mabel (which i think he does. mom said its my canon now) theres still the truth of "people wont wanna be around you if youre a selfish prick"

anyways he makes me emotional so i'm giving him attention

im scared tumblr will kill the quality on my tiny handwriting so transcription under the cut:

after turning like 15, he just starts traveling, gets out of oregon and hits the ground running

uses my headcanon (?) that the amulet takes years from you, and gideon probably won't live past his 20s

he finds this out, has a total mid-life (literally) crisis at 14-15 and decides to do anything "normal" he can do because he doesn't have long to do it

ofc he still has anger issues and obsesses over people and everything else, but he's a lot better at managing it [than] when he was a kid

he doesn't care if he dies with people still hating him, but he wants it to be known that he tried

[arklay]

omfg the logistics of s.t.a.r.s. makes me sick. like there is absolutely no need for them to work for 24 hours 7 days a week for what they are. in my mind it would be that alpha have the day shift and bravo have the night one but even then like. it makes no sense. because they would be 12 hour shifts... every day... that's. no.

[minakoaiinos]

Lost my original post of this from the other day but I genuinely don't understand how Black Butler discourse ever shifted into the does Sebastian ~really~ like Ciel or is Ciel just dinner line of conversation that is pervasive as it is because Sebastian is the one that has absorbed his whole existence into Ciel's. Sebastian's face is what Ciel wants Sebastian's whole purpose is doing things for Ciel Sebastian's every hell of a butler yes my lord speech is about how he's Ciel's and Ciel is the one going around saying shit like whatever Sebastian is just my pawn 💅

[icarusredwings]

On top of this- can you imagine if Hank and Logan have to deal with this idiot REfalling in love with his literal husband because of the dementia?

Erik: *Is doing a puzzle*

Logan: *Is supervising the old coot*

Hank: *Rolls in Charles* Watch him for a couple minutes will you? I have to make lunch.

Logan: 👍

Charles: Oh! Logan, How have you been? I haven't seen you in such a long time.

Logan, who's literally the one who carried him downstairs this morning: Yeah, I'm alright.

Erik: *already is staring, curiously looking away at times so not to be noticed*

Charles: Logan, did I ever tell you about how incredible organisms can be?

Logan: *sighs, having heard this same hyperfixated speech a trillion times* No I dont think you have...

Charles: Ooh! Good. Were you aware that mutations took us from single celled organisms-

Erik, who isn't sure why he knows this line but just does: -to the most dominant life form on the planet..

Charles: *turns his chair* My.. Do you have telepathy too? It's almost as if you-

Erik: Read your mind? Heh... yeah.. sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt..

Charles: No no, not at all. I'd be happy to discuss with you the complexites of the simple gene mutation that is your white hair.

Logan: I think it's just cause he's 90, Chuck.

Erik, still staring: I could say the same about your blue eyes.

Charles: *giggles* Only if we get to add yours to the topic as well

Logan: *blinks in 'wtf am I watching'*

Erik: Well.. if you insist. Go on. I want to know everything.

Charles: *starts yapping happily about science and theories while erik stares at him*

Hank: *comes back to see Erik smirking with a certian stare and Charles giggling* What did you do?

Erik: Would you like to... have lunch with me sometime?

Charles: Im free today if you'd like..

Erik: Perfect. So it's a date then?

Charles: *giggles* If you want to call it that..

Logan, whos now watching them like a romance drama: I... have no idea... they do know they've been married for 45 years right?

Hank: No I had to take away their rings because erik kept throwing tantrums...

Logan: Get them rubber ones.

Hank: what? Why?

Logan: Get. Them. Their. Rings!

Based off this post ❤️ Old cherik dementia supremacy!

Rewatching Logan with my son because he's obsessed with Laura (rightfully so) and im watching Charles run away from him and telling him to move only for Logan to pitifully roll his eyes and step to the side, blocking him again.

Can you fucking imagine? Trying to chase a dementia having telepathic automatic wheel chair having old man around to try to give him his medicine?

Old as fuck Charles: *'running' away* I don't know you!! Leave me at once! Cease this nonsense!

Hank, who's slowly trailing him with a big sigh and a handful of meds in one hand, a glass of water in the other: Charles, come on.. you do this every time.

Charles: No! Stay back! You can not capture such greatness and confine it into such a small space! I shall exceed these walls and-

Hank: I'll call Logan!

Charles: *stops* Logan? I know a logan..

Hank: Yes, I know - now, please. Take your medicine.

Charles: *squints* You're not Logan. Who do you take me for? A fool!? *slaps the pills from his hands and keeps going*

Can you imagine if it was even worse by Erik egging on said "revolutions" of his?

Erik: *Who is hevily sedated sitting in the kitchen* Hello Charles.

Charles: *stops for a second* Oh! Hello Erik id love to stay and chat but it appears theres a strange man chasing me.

Erik: Oh no. Well, that simply won't do. *stands up with his shakey old man knees* Stop this at once! Get out of our house! Or I'll be forced to-

Hank: *groans* Erik sit down. It's time for his medicine.

Erik, like I said, is heavily sedated: Oh, okay. Charles, it's medicine time. *sits back down*

Charles: I do not trust that man. He's not who he claims!

Hank: *rolls his eyes* Are you seriously gonna make me do it?

Charles: Do what?

Hank: *turns into beast* Happy? Now take your medicine.

Charles: *gasps* Hank!! Thank goodness you're here! There was such a strange man here a moment ago! He was chasing me!

Hank: I swear to fucking god...