#because like.... she keeps having vision in ways

[satoruan]

When he knew there was nothing better in this world than being a parent  — Jujutsu Kaisean

( cw ) f!reader, fluff, domestic , mentions of surgery, Toji gets bullied 😢

featuring. Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, Toji Fushiguro, Nanami Kento 

authors note. I found this draft and was like ??? when did I write 💀 but anyways I like 2/4 of it so 💁‍♀️ I could name a million things better than being a parent but shhh 🤫

GOJO SATORU

Gojo had just put her down, and she was already screeching again. He was starting to get annoyed; he had work to get to, and she just wouldn’t settle down. Sighing, he stood back up and made his way to her, peeking over the top of her crib. Almost instantly, she stopped, and a big toothless smile spread across her face. She let out a happy little sound. He leaned over, picked her up, and she snuggled into his chest, smiling and cooing. Satoru melted in a way he didn’t know he could. His baby just missed him and in that moment he knew he'd do anything to keep that smile on her face.

TOJI FUSHIGURO   

Toji never cared about what the general public thought of him. He was who he was, and nobody's opinion was going to change that. However, when a group of teenagers at the restaurant started to loudly talk and point at the scar decorating the side of his face while he was with his son, he couldn't help but feel a surge of anger. When his son glanced up and made a face, a tendril of insecurity took root in Toji's mind. Maybe the scar was a bit ugly—perhaps his son had always hated it but never said anything. Toji turned his attention back to his plate and started to play with his food; he wasn't that hungry anymore. In his peripheral vision, he saw his son stand up and gently touch the scar with his small hand. "I think you look cool, Daddy, like a superhero." his son said before giving him a quick kiss on the cheek and returning to his meal.

GETO SUGURU  

Geto was lost in his thoughts when he felt a hand gently caress his stomach. "Daddy? Are you okay?" his daughters asked from the side of the bed. He hadn’t heard them come in. He had just had his appendix removed, and it hurt—a lot. "Yeah," he lied, offering them a small smile. They took this as a sign to crawl up onto the bed. One of them settled next to the bandage on his side, while the other came up to pet his hair and face. "You’re going to get better soon, Daddy. We��ll take care of you," the eldest whispered before placing a gentle kiss on his forehead, just like he did every time they were sick.

NANAMI KENTO  

Nanami knows he has the best daughter in the world when she rushes up to him in a panic just before he’s about to leave for work. He looks down at her with a questioning expression. “I just want to tell you to have a good day at work today because I know you came home sad yesterday.” She smiles shyly up at her father before wrapping her small arms around his legs. He quickly kneels down to give her a proper hug. “I love you, Daddy. I wished for you to never have a bad day again before I went to sleep.”

[dreamscapeee222]

Hi, i stumbled upon your blog and i hope that you could write headcanons about this idea i have.

Basically, reader is a Zaunite, and during the final episode they volunteer to be an enforcer and protect Piltover. Maybe some angst as well, with their reaction to reader getting hurt? And what happens after the war(reader doesn’t die i need some happy endings🙏🏻)

I wish you a good day and thanks!!

A/n: I like this :3

Warning: Angst, Comfort

Vi, Jinx, Caitlyn, Ekko, Jayce, Viktor, Mel

Masterlist

Vi

When you tell Vi you’re volunteering to fight for Piltover, she’s furious.

“You’re risking your life for a city that’s crushed ours?” she demands, her voice rising with every word. “You’re gonna get yourself killed for what? To prove you’re better than them?”

She storms out, but her words hang heavy in the air. You catch her sneaking glances your way in the days leading up to the battle, a mix of anger and worry written all over her face.

During the fight, Vi fights like hell to keep the chaos at bay. When she sees you take a hit, her heart stops. “No, no, no,” she mutters, shoving her way through the fray to get to you. She hoists you over her shoulder with a strength born of pure panic.

Later, when you’re patched up and recovering, she stays by your bedside. “You’re so damn stupid,” she says, her voice cracking. “But you’re also the bravest person I’ve ever met.” She takes your hand, her thumb brushing over your knuckles. “Next time, we fight for Zaun. Together.”

Jinx

When Jinx hears your decision, it’s like a slap to the face.

“You’re leaving me for them?” she sneers, but her voice wavers. “You’re just like the rest of them, turning your back on Zaun.”

You try to explain, but she’s already gone, leaving a trail of chaos in her wake. During the battle, you catch glimpses of her in the distance, her eyes wild as she fights on her own.

When you’re injured, she’s suddenly there, pulling you out of harm’s way. “You’re such an idiot,” she mutters, her hands shaking as she presses them to your wounds. “Don’t you dare leave me, you hear?”

After the war, she shows up at your door unannounced, carrying a bundle of mismatched supplies. She doesn’t say much, but her presence speaks volumes. “You’re still an idiot,” she grumbles, but the softness in her eyes gives her away.

Caitlyn

Caitlyn admires your courage but can’t hide her fear.

“I’ve lost too many people,” she says quietly, her hand resting lightly on your arm. “Don’t make me lose you too.”

She fights alongside you with fierce determination, always keeping you in her peripheral vision. When you’re hurt, she abandons all composure, sprinting to your side.

“Stay with me,” she pleads, her voice steady despite the tears in her eyes. She personally oversees your medical care, refusing to leave your side until she knows you’re safe.

After the war, she’s there when you wake up, her hand tightly clutching yours. “You scared me,” she admits, her voice barely above a whisper. “But I’m so proud of you. Let’s make sure this was the last fight either of us has to endure.”

Ekko

Ekko’s first reaction is frustration.

“You think Piltover’s gonna change because you fight for them?” he asks, his voice full of hurt. “Zaun needs you here.”

But when the battle comes, he fights by your side, using every trick in his arsenal to keep you safe. When you’re injured, he blames himself, his mind racing with guilt.

“I should’ve been faster,” he mutters, carrying you to safety. “I should’ve been better.”

After the war, he stays by your side, his resolve hardening. “No more wars,” he says firmly. “We’re gonna rebuild Zaun. Together. And this time, we’re gonna do it right.”

Jayce

Jayce struggles with your decision.

“You’re brave,” he says, his voice heavy with emotion. “But you don’t owe Piltover this. You don’t owe me this.”

During the fight, he’s relentless, his hammer a blur of destruction as he clears a path for you. When you’re hurt, he drops everything, his hands trembling as he checks your injuries.

“You’re gonna be okay,” he says, more to himself than to you. “You have to be okay.”

After the war, he’s a constant presence, his guilt and admiration tangled together. “You’re incredible,” he says softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “But next time, let me protect you.”

Viktor

Viktor is calm on the surface, but his words betray his worry.

“You are brave, but bravery often comes with a cost,” he says quietly. “Please, do not let it be your life.”

When the battle rages, he fights with quiet determination, his mind calculating every move. When you’re injured, he doesn’t panic—he acts, stabilizing you with precision and efficiency.

After the war, he spends hours by your bedside, his work temporarily forgotten. “You’ve done enough,” he says softly, his voice laced with emotion. “Let others carry the burden now. You deserve peace.”

Mel

Mel’s reaction is one of quiet anguish.

“You’re risking your life for a city that doesn’t see you,” she says, her voice soft but cutting. “You deserve better.”

During the battle, she watches from a distance, her heart heavy with every report of casualties. When she hears you’ve been hurt, she’s at your side in an instant, her composure cracking for the first time.

“You’ve proven your strength,” she says, her hand gently resting on yours. “But please, no more sacrifices. Let’s build something worth fighting for, together.”

See pinned.

[bandsofmarv]

Claimed by the devil

Rafe Cameron has always been possessive, but his obsession with you has spiraled into something far darker. When he sees you laughing with JJ Maybank at a party, the thin thread of control he clings to snaps.

TW - obsessive behaviour, jealousy.

Part 2

The party was loud and chaotic, the bass from the music vibrating through the Cameron estate. You were at the bar with JJ, your drink in hand, laughing at one of his stories. It had been so long since you felt at ease—since you felt like yourself. JJ’s carefree energy had a way of pulling you out of the shadows, if only for a moment.

But Rafe Cameron didn’t miss anything. Especially when it came to you.

From across the room, Rafe’s sharp blue eyes tracked your every move, the faintest smile on your lips sending a wave of fury through him. That smile was his. Not JJ’s. Not anyone else’s.

He stood in the corner, drink in hand, his knuckles white as he gripped the glass. He didn’t blink as he watched JJ lean closer to you, his hand brushing yours when you handed him your drink.

Rafe’s vision blurred with anger. No one touched what was his.

Before you even realized he was there, Rafe was standing beside you, his hand gripping your waist with bruising force.

“Hey, babe,” he said, his tone deceptively calm but his eyes burning with rage. “You looked a little too comfortable over here.”

You stiffened under his touch, instinctively pulling away. “Rafe, I was just—”

“You were just what?” Rafe interrupted, his gaze flicking to JJ with a deadly glare. “Entertaining him?”

JJ raised his hands, stepping back slightly. “Relax, Rafe. We were just talking.”

“Talking,” Rafe sneered, his hand tightening around your waist. “That what you’re calling it now? You’re lucky I didn’t put you through that wall for standing this close to her.”

“Rafe, stop it,” you said, your voice shaking. “He didn’t do anything wrong.”

“You don’t get to tell me to stop,” Rafe snapped, his voice rising. “Do you even hear yourself? Defending him in front of me?”

JJ’s jaw clenched, his usual laid-back demeanor gone. “She doesn’t need to defend me, Cameron,” he said, his voice steady. “You’re out of line.”

Rafe let out a cold laugh, his eyes narrowing. “Out of line? You’re standing here, trying to take what’s mine, and I’m out of line?”

“Rafe, you’re making a scene,” you said, tugging at his arm.

“I don’t give a damn about the scene,” he snapped, his attention laser-focused on JJ. “I care about the fact that this piece of trash thinks he can even breathe the same air as you.”

“Maybe because I’m not treating her like a possession,” JJ shot back, his voice cutting. “Ever think about that, Cameron?”

Rafe’s face twisted with fury, and he lunged forward, shoving JJ hard. “You don’t talk about her like you know her, Pogue. You don’t know a damn thing about what we have.”

“Rafe, stop it!” you cried, stepping between them and pressing your hands against his chest.

But Rafe wasn’t listening. His eyes flicked to you, wild and unhinged. “Why are you protecting him?” he demanded, his voice shaking with a mix of anger and desperation. “You should be here with me, not laughing with him like he means something to you.”

You took a step back, your heart pounding. “Rafe, this is insane. You can’t keep acting like this.”

“I’m acting like this because I care,” he said, his voice softening for just a moment before the anger bled back in. “No one else will protect you the way I do. No one else will love you like I do.”

“You’re not protecting me,” you said, tears filling your eyes. “You’re suffocating me.”

Rafe froze, his face contorting in pain. “Suffocating you? I’ve done everything for you. I’ve fought for you, protected you, and this is what I get? You don’t understand what it’s like to love someone so much that it hurts.”

“I don’t want it to hurt,” you said, your voice breaking.

JJ reached out, grabbing your hand gently and pulling you back. “You don’t have to deal with this, Y/N,” he said softly. “Come with me. You’re not safe with him.”

The moment Rafe saw JJ’s hand on yours, something in him snapped. He grabbed your wrist, yanking you back to his side with a bruising grip.

“She’s not going anywhere with you,” Rafe said, his voice cold and lethal. “Do you hear me? She’s mine.”

“Let her go,” JJ said, his voice steady but full of warning.

“She doesn’t want to go with you,” Rafe hissed, his grip tightening. “Do you, baby? Tell him. Tell him you’re staying with me.”

You looked at Rafe, his face a mix of fury and desperation, and then at JJ, his steady gaze full of concern and care.

“Rafe…” you started, your voice trembling but Rafe cut you off. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “Don’t even think about it. Don’t think for one second that you can walk away from me. You belong to me. You always have.”

The weight of his words crushed you, the possessiveness in his voice sending a chill down your spine. You opened your mouth to respond, but the words wouldn’t come.

JJ stepped forward, pulling you firmly out of Rafe’s grip. “She doesn’t belong to you, Cameron,” he said, his voice steady. “You need to let her go.”

Rafe’s eyes darkened, his chest heaving as he glared at JJ. “She’s not leaving me,” he said, his voice low and venomous. “Not now. Not ever.”

But for the first time, you stepped back, your hand in JJ’s. “I can’t do this anymore, Rafe,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Rafe’s face twisted with fury and heartbreak, and he took a step toward you. “You’re making a mistake,” he said, his voice trembling. “You think he can love you like I do? No one can. No one will.”

As JJ led you away, Rafe’s voice echoed behind you, a dangerous promise in every word.

“You’ll regret this, Y/N,” he called out. “You’ll come back. You always do.”

But for the first time, you weren’t so sure.

[dissapointu]

Writing to a dead person (ambessa x reader)

My Dearest,

It feels strange to write to you like this, knowing you will never see these words. But the silence is unbearable, and I have no one else to tell the truth to—not like I could with you. You were always the one who could see through me, who could pull the truth from my lips no matter how deeply I tried to bury it.

I told myself I didn't need anyone. For years, I built walls around myself, convinced that strength meant solitude. That vulnerability was a weakness I could not afford. And then you came along, with your infuriating smile and your maddening persistence. You slipped through the cracks I didn't even know were there, and before I realized it, you had taken root in my heart.

Do you know how terrifying that was? To love someone the way I loved you? To trust you with parts of myself I had never shown to anyone else? I fought it at first, of course I did. But you were relentless. And, gods help me, I was weak for you. I still am.

When I look back now, I see all the ways I failed you. All the moments I could have been kinder, softer. I let my pride speak for me too often, and I let my fears keep me from telling you what you deserved to hear. I should have told you every day how much you meant to me. I should have held you longer, kissed you deeper, made you feel as loved as you made me feel. But I didn't. And now, it's too late.

I can still see you sometimes, in the quiet moments. I hear your laugh, feel your touch, and for a fleeting second, it feels real. But then I reach out, and you're gone, and I am left with this hollow ache that nothing can fill.

You should be here, standing beside me, mocking my stubbornness and reminding me to eat. You should be the one holding me when the weight of all this becomes too much. Instead, I am alone, and the world is emptier without you in it.

The battlefield feels colder now. I used to fight for glory, for power, for ambition. But with you gone, those things mean nothing. Now, I fight because I don't know what else to do. It's the only way I know to keep moving forward, even when every step feels like a betrayal of your memory.

You were my light. My compass. The one person who could make me believe that there was more to life than conquest and strategy. And now that you're gone, I don't know who I am anymore.

I won the war, you know. Just like we planned. The world sees me as a hero, a lioness who cannot be defeated. But it is an empty victory. What is the point of triumph if you're not here to share it with me?

I've lost so much in my life. Friends, allies, even family. But nothing compares to losing you. Nothing could have prepared me for this void, this unbearable silence. And though I try to carry on, to honor your memory by doing the work we dreamed of, it feels like I am moving through a haze, a shadow of the person I used to be.

I miss you. Gods, I miss you more than words can ever express. I miss your voice, your laughter, the way you would challenge me when no one else dared. I miss the way you looked at me, like I was more than just a warrior or a leader. Like I was someone worth loving.

I don't know what comes next. I don't know how to move on from this. But I do know that I will carry you with me, in every step, every breath, every battle. You are a part of me now, as much as my blood and my bones. And though the world may see me as unbreakable, you are my one true weakness. The part of me I will never let go of.

I love you. I will always love you. And though you are gone, I will spend the rest of my life trying to be the person you believed I could be. Not for glory, not for power, but for you. Always for you.

Forever yours,

Ambessa

The quill dropped from her fingers, clattering softly against the table. Ambessa stared at the letter, her vision blurred by tears she didn't bother to wipe away.

She folded the parchment carefully, her hands steady despite the storm raging inside her. For a moment, she considered burning it, letting the words disappear like so many others she had left unspoken. But she couldn't bring herself to do it.

Instead, she tucked the letter into the small satchel she carried everywhere, alongside the other precious things she had kept over the years. It would remain there, a testament to the love she could never let go of, even as she continued to fight, to lead, to live in a world without you.

And though she would never send the letter, she hoped, somehow, that you would know. That wherever you were, you could hear the words she could never say aloud.

This is from my fic:

[iluvapplesxh]

| rest, baby |

ဗီူဗီူ pair: billie eilish x fem!reader

☕︎ summary: You were tired, so- so tired and you felt like if you took one more step, you'd fell apart right away. Billie was there, and she held you close just as if you would in fact break at any moment.

☠︎ cw: angst, I guess, fluff, comfort, crying !ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE!

☏ a/n: uh so I totally didn't disappear for almost a month haha what? noo that would be stupid...

You’ve just got home from school after 8 tiring hours of classes and classes repeating after one another and it seemed like it'd never end. It also doesn’t help that you lived about an hour of public transport away from college, and no, you didn’t have a dorm room because your girlfriend had separation anxiety. So to say you were exhausted was a tiny understatement. 

No, your head was pounding and spinning at the same time, your whole body was sore, muscles pulling and straining under layers and layers of skin and your eyes were half closed, almost asleep but you kept going. Your education was not only important to you, for your future but also your family. So far, you’re the only one to make it to uni, and though you were proud of yourself, it was kicking your ass hard.

You dropped your backpack somewhere in the house as you made your way to the kitchen, immediately reaching for a hefty mug and filling it up with black coffee to the brim. You scoffed quietly to yourself when you realised there wasn’t enough for a second round, but quickly moved past it, deciding to just grab an energy drink from the refrigerator later on.

You made your way to the kitchen table, almost stumbling over your thrown down backpack on the way. You didn’t pay any mind to the small drop of coffee spilled on the floor and picked up the heavy bag, dropping it on a chair by the table and sitting on the one next to it.

With a loud thud, the mug landed on the wooden table, the sound echoing through the empty house since your girlfriend was still at work. You cleared your throat and sniffled a little, it was cold outside which made your nose runny. You unzipped your backpack and took out the needed books and notebooks and soon got to work.

But it wasn’t long before you were down half a mug of coffee and your heart was thudding in your chest, echoing in your ears which made your head hurt even more as you tried reading the words on the page of a book in front of you, hands clenched into fists on the table as you proved to be unsuccessful. 

Your eyes watered but you pushed the tears back, bottom lip stuck between your teeth as you took another large sip of the black coffee. 

But even you couldn’t lie to yourself anymore.

It hurt.

It hurt so much and you were beyond tired and you wanted it to end. The endless day after day of waking up, going to fry your brain, getting home to do more and pass out on top of your books.

You wanted to cry and beg for it to be over, you needed it to be over. You couldn’t keep pushing yourself more and more towards reaching that point where you just can’t. 

Soon, tears flooded your eyes and out of them, falling on the paper in front of you which, in your panic, you frantically tried to push away so it wouldn't get wet. No need to add more stress to your day tomorrow with going to the library to get another one. It fell on the floor and you flinched at the sound, throat tightening up as you pulled your knees to your chest, forehead hitting the hard joints.

Your chest felt tight, stomach in knots as your head spun and your vision blurred, your own cries and sobs mixed with the loud thudding of your heart flooded your ears so much so that you didn't notice the front door of the house opening, Billie entering the house with a small smile on her face. 

“Honey, I’m home~” She shouted in a sing-song tone as she pushed her shoes off, stretching as she began to walk further inside. Though, she stopped in her tracks when your sobs hit her ears, her head snapping in the direction of the kitchen and she took quick steps towards the room.

Her blue eyes landed on your shaking, curled up form on the chair by the table and her pulse quickened with worry, heart clenching and brows furrowing. 

“Baby?” 

Her sweet voice snapped you out of your head and you looked up, eyes meeting hers. A lump formed in your throat once more at the worry in her eyes and you tried speaking but a sob came out instead.

Billie quickly walked to you, hands immediately on your face and her thumbs wiping your tears off your cheeks. “Talk to me” She murmured, chest just as tight as yours was feeling in that moment.

“I—...I can’t” You managed out, voice breaking and face crumbling as you began crying again. Billie rushed to sooth you, bringing her lips to your forehead, one of her hands on the back of your neck.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. I’ll wait” 

So she did.

And about half an hour later, she had brought you to the couch and you were on her lap, facing her with your face in the crook of her neck. Her shoulder was wet but she didn’t care, she held you close until the sobs stopped rocking your body, until the lump eased from your throat and your chest wasn’t so tight anymore.

Your head finally lifted from her shoulder and your eyes met hers, almost tearing up again. You waited a moment before finally getting your words out; “I’m—.... I’m so tired, Billie” Your whispered, broken words broke your girlfriend’s heart, and she herself had to hold back from breaking down. Instead, she let you continue as she watched you take a deep, trembling breath; “I can’t—... do this anymore” 

Billie nodded, arms wrapped tightly around your torso while her thumbs pressed into the flesh of your waist. “What, baby?” She asked, her eyes scanning the dark circles under your eyes, your pale skin. 

Your teeth sunk into your lower lip. “Everything” 

Billie pursed her lips, blue eyes gazing into your blood-shot ones. One of her hands raised, pushing your hair away from your face, then it stopped, resting on your cheek. “Okay…” She murmured. “I know,” She said again. “I know it’s hard, and you can’t keep this up… I worry” Your head nodded a bit and Billie sighed. “I’m serious, you’re taking the next half of the semester off. Okay?” 

There was a moment of silence, your chest rising and falling unevenly due to your sniffling. Then, you nodded.

“Words, baby” 

You took a deep breath and parted your lips. “Okay. I’ll take the next half of semester off” Billie’s lips curled into a small, almost prideful smile and she hummed, rubbing your back. 

“Good” She whispered before kissing your cheek gently “let’s get to bed, hm?” You nodded again at her question and stood up. She followed and took your hand, leading you to your shared bedroom.

Soon enough, you were snuggled up against her, much calmer now with your head on her plush chest while she had an arm around you. You felt her lips press onto the crown of your head and your eyes fluttered shut at the contact. 

“Rest, baby. I’m right here” 

Her whispered words added to the slowly growing comfort you felt all over your body in her embrace and all you did was nod one last time before your brain shut off, almost completely and you slipped into a deep, relaxed sleep in the arms of the only woman capable of making you feel anything like this. 

Loved. Comforted. Cared for.

Any of the bunch. And you were right there for her, too. Forever.

☏ a/n: aw dang it, it's shit again! anyway sorry for not posting, and now I forgot how to do this sooo ugh. but anyway @tan1shere , here is it, my apologoies if you're disappointed 😞

[ghostymarni]

didn’t want to grief post on this thread, so just venting here for my own piece of mind

digital holonet entry 112824 0714hours

I’ve been on and off coping as grief does, but after seeing that post about not thinking too long about crosshair just reminded me how much I’ve kinda been avoiding drawing him.

I know I recently had a similar conversation with Lupe about this. He will always be favorite overall, but my vision for cross has artistically changed so many times because I think deep down it’s a grief truth for me that I’m struggling with. I have so many crosshair drawings I never posted because they’re just SAD. I didn’t want to turn this to a depression blog so I refrained from posting or deleted those from here.

My husband passed this summer more suddenly than I’d like to think about. He was watching season 3 without me because I was too busy with work at the time. But rewatching it after he passed had me instant hone in on crosshair + connecting the loss of my husband with the loss of tech; which gave a different part in my grief acceptance + a secondary obsession with the brilliant minded clone. It’s a reminder to hold onto everything we created and did, + to always keep thinking about him.

Crosshair returning with his brothers + not having tech there feels twice as suffering knowing what their last interaction was like. And an even deeper personal meaning knowing I see my husband in everything. In our life around us, in how I choose things, how I respond to things. (Which we see + are reminded of that tech is apart of everyone he ever met)

Self regret that we didn’t have time to have a proper last moment. It just ended. Just because you choose to accept they knew you loved them, + vise versa, doesn’t make it easier than you’ll never have them around anymore.

Which with grief, digs the vibro-blade a little deeper because you never know when your last interaction with someone is.

watching how each of them take the notion of what tech would do, picking up where he would take over. I would imagine it would catch crosshair off guard, hearing tinkering to certain data pad beeps, only to look up + see Echo fixing something, or Omega typing away. Because I literally do this with sounds I associate with my late husband.

That feeling never goes away for a loved one. His brother, his batch twin. But omega is a huge part of that healing. And she has been a huge part in mine connecting her with my kid who isn’t giving up on me + needs me. Simple intended motions go such a long way. And the scene were they’re meditating hits hard for me.

Even more so when I’m constantly shaking out my own hand to keep it under control. It’s never easy when it hits, but every scene of cross trying to get his tremors under control, is something I do more often than I care to admit. I just have to keep going.

Not seeing tech with omega, is like realizing I won’t ever see my husband with our son growing up. He’s young, + it feels more unfair. And that hurts. Crosshair is such a dynamic clone + his guilt + hurt reaches out to many people in so many different ways. Which is why I can’t think too long about him either, but he will always be my favorite overall because I see him as me.

From grief, trauma, hand tremors, loss. (if I’m being honest, I’m pretty decent at shooting actual long range rifles) there’s so much to crosshair I personally relate to, and not just his attitude haha!

Crosshair didn’t see his brother fall, but he watched another brother die in his place. An older brother that taught him a lesson he didn’t realize he needed to know until it was too late. We confirmed that from his retaliation of shooting an imperial officer, + when they returned to the deserted base; he instantly moves to set up the memorial buckets as Mayday did. A reminder of the fallen, a reminder that they existed + lived.

A lesson I have to remind myself everyday.

So what I guess I’m also trying to convey, while I see myself as crosshair, despite the grief, the false fight some days, I’ve never felt so alone than having my soulmate gone. Going from a life of fun, banter, + life for granted, to solitude and what feels like isolation.

the clone community really gave me a second chance. At me. At reconnecting with myself, my art, my humor + wit. The friendships I’ve made + are continue to make really are giving me a new fight and a new reason to just keep going.

I never share for sympathy, I don’t want to be put in a “do not interact zone”. That’s the opposite of what I need or want. I just wear my heart on my sleeve + find comfort in just being honest about struggles + how we strive to move on.

as our boy hardcase (+ echo) quote, what I try to embrace:

“LIVE TO FIGHT ANOTHER DAY”

[howly]

headcanon: the boring perfect self control vampire bella thinks she has is a LIE and at one point she caught human scent mid-hunt and snapped. it made her so wild she had to be restrained to the point where things got ugly

i know edward would never dare to do it and meyer would never dare write it and in canon newborn vamp bella would be far stronger than him...

actually. you know who would be stronger than one young vampire? two old vampires. and who would act practical in a critical situation? emmett

imagine edward and bella heading out for a hunt and emmett being like "do you guys mind if i tag along? i feel like snacking". bella's a little mad at the prospect of suddenly having a third wheel (homegirl wasn't planning on just. hunting) but alice gets a weird hunch and goes "no, no, em should go with you" ok nostradamus. he's going.

fast forward they're in the mountain. bella finds having emmett third-wheeling is not half bad. in emmett's head, lowkey it's bella who's the third wheel after so many decades of him hunting together with edward. but nevertheless, it's so fun with her around. all is good until they catch the scent of an entire group of friends hiking just a couple of miles from here, away from all civilization. emmett and edward stop in their tracks, ready to turn around. bella, her guard down, loses it and stars running towards the group, so they have no choice but to charge at her. while strugging to keep her in place, they try to talk her down but she doesn't listen. she doesn't care, she's strong enough to fight them off, and she fights and claws and hisses and breaks bones of whoever gets in her way because there are so many pulses just a few minutes' run away from her and their scent is so sweet and burning and calling, calling, calling to her

while struggling to restrain her, emmett grunts "we have to disarm her". edward catches the image in his head and shouts "no! you can't literally disarm bella!". well, how the hell do you expect us to stop her from massacring all those hikers? we'll just put her back together afterwards. duh!, emmett thinks, and knows he has to act fast so he goes in while bella's busy yanking away from edward's grip and tears off a limb. or two. all 3 of them may or may not be screaming.

a few moments later edward's pinning bella to the ground, holding her face between his palms, forcing her to look at him. her thrashing is not so effective with limited body parts. part of him wants to yell at emmett but that's kind of low priority. he's holding on to the last of his composure while he looks down at bella's feral expression and chants 'baby. i'm so sorry but i'll give you your leg back after you calm down a bit. i won't be able to outrun you if you go chasing after those people now. please calm down. i love you. hold your breath'

just then she listens, stops breathing and her vision refocuses. for the first time she realizes she was on her way to slaughter a bunch of strangers and she broke the arm of the man she loves at least three times when he tried to stop her. she wants to open her mouth and apologize but that will require her to breathe and possibly go crazy with thirst again. so she stares back at edward's panicked eyes and nods at him, her own red eyes just as full of terror.

then she looks over his shoulder and sees emmett waving her severed leg in the air like it's a baseball bat. "hey, did you know that rose wears the same shoe size?"

[lilia-calderus-pet-goat]

This is a very sleep deprived thought—and I don't actually believe it, per se—but.

I've seen a lot of people who are deeply unsatisfied with the retcon of it being Agatha that bound Jen's magic. Mainly, because it felt like shoe-honing. Especially since Agatha made such a point about going out of her way to not kill Jen despite hating her, because she respected her work too much.

I think many interested discussions can be had about this. I've talked about this before—the fact that Jen's character felt sort of neglected in the finale, and the fact a lot of people struggled to connect with her prior to rewatches. (I myself didn't have this problem, but still, my criticisms are still of the same nature-)

So anyway, Agatha probably chose to bind Jen to keep her out of the way, not realising the weight of that, the intersectionality—perhaps not caring about the suggesting very much at all. Because, you're a midwife, Jen. You can still do good. You will do good, just out of my way. And I truly do believe this is how it went.

But what if Agatha hadn't been the one to bind her? What if, in a brief moment of clarity, Agatha locked in to get everyone out? Her movements are always supposed to be calculated, so is carelessness really in her repertoire?

Maybe, just maybe, she heard Jen say that, “I'll be damned if I let one of you two idiots die,” and that triggered her. Maybe because of pride—god knows she was overwhelmed before the final trial and all her walls had come right back up. But the same didn't apply to Jennifer. She had actually changed. Jen had actually re-discovered her worth. She'd remembered who she was, power or not. She was someone Agatha respected in spite of the resentment. Someome who heals, nurtures, helps, does good. Not the vain, surface-level, self-serving fraud—who had previously been on a dark path too similar to Agatha's own, so close to complete cynicism. Lilia had saved Jen from that path and oushed her to be the path ahead. The Obstacles? Agatha.

And Agatha won't accept Jen's help—not after what happened to Alice, which to Agatha's & Billy's eyes alike stands as evidence of the fact she is a monster. She won't even accept to acknowledge her own character development, as a mere episode ago she jumped in front of a sword to save Lilia. She won't, above all, acknowledge that Jen has grown to care about her. Instead, she will do everything tomake that kdea crumble. She will destroy it.

All she needs to do is shape the narrative Billy truly thinks is true, and so it can become the truth. Billy, who created the condition in which it was possible for Alice to break her generational curse. Who found the spirits of Evanora and Nicky alike. All the trials were his limited understanding of the coven & of witch folk. (Jen's was right out of her vision board, she looked like one of her clients—nothing like the rootworker midwife we know she used to be. Alice's is in the seventies, which mathematically makes no sense with her age as she would have been born in the eighties to be the age she is on 2025—but Billy based everything about her trial on Lorna, because that's what he was familiar with. Agatha's mind he couldn't read—all he knew about her was that something happened to her son. So he puts a grown woman in children's clothing, to force therapy on her—and she regresses into the hurt little girl she was at the stake. Lilia, whose mind is the loudest & most easily accessible to Billy, had the most personalised trial, but even then, it latches onto the witch stereotypes that she so desperately hates. All of those do help the girls—minus Agatha—but still don't fully represent them. As for the green witch trial, well, it took him a while to cook it up, because he just found out Rio is death. Anyway, I digress—) My point being, if you can shape Billy's understanding of a situation, you can have some power over what happens. (One trial for each witch, the public transport system, etc.)

Would it be such an impossible stretch to say Agatha painted herself as the villain once more, embracing the part presented to her, the oart most familiar, the oart she knows best to simultaneously reject Jen's offered sisterhood/peace/altruism AND make sure the road gave Jen her powers back? She gets Jen out of the way—go do good again, just out of my way—because she's hellbent on the narrative that Agatha Harkness can't be anything but a covenless witch.

And what's the next thing she does, after assuring Billy that the road took Jen to safety after giving her what she wants?

She tries to get what she wants, because she knows Billy is in no real danger in his own road. Give me a little power-boost, dungeon master, get me out of here, come on. But he doesn't trust her. And if he doesn't trust her—she can't possibly convince him to willingly hand himself over to Rio.

So she gives him what he needs, what he wants from the road. She guides him—cradles his head and helps him fight the guilt, she helps him save Tommy. The second abomination that Lady Death was trying to prevent has already been re-born, but Rio's too busy playing mother-knows-best in suburbia on Agatha's rooftop.

So Agatha gets Billy out, accepts that, “sometimes boys die,” that death herself can't be blamed for Nicky—she forgives Rio—and starts to mourn herself. She's gotten Jen & Billy out. She can stay here and die the villain. But the road presents her with the opportunity to live—from death, life—(she also realises right then that Nicky was also Rio's, btw)—and she makes her dramatic exit. The rest is... A different post.

[admirationandromantics]

Going overboard, 4: Loyalty

Okay, so next chapter out, hope you like it! Sorry for posting a little late, but here it is anyway (btw sorry for the gif...) Again, reminding people that my requests are open and next chapter will be posted tomorrow <3 PS! Don't worry, there'll be more smut later in the story.

❀--✽--❀--✽--❀--✽--❀--✽--❀--✽--❀--✽--❀--✽--❀--✽--❀--✽--❀

“Chris!” I shout, turning him around. He starts grunting, eyes slowly opening. 

“Ash?”

“No, no Chris it’s me.” I say, trying to sound comforting. 

“What happened? Where are the others?” 

He slowly sits up, looking around. His hand moves up to his head, touching a large bruise. 

“We heard Josh, and Ashley got dragged into this room. The door was locked, and I did my best to get it open.” I nod, hand on his shoulder, signalling for him to continue. His breathing quickens as he continues talking. 

“And, and… When I got in she was laying on the floor. There was this guy in a mask.” he trails off. Like he doesn’t know what happened after. I get nervous, is there some kind of murderer on the mountain with us? 

“And then? I ask. 

“Then you found me.” I look around, but there’s no trace of Ashley nor Josh. I help him up, and while he’s a little unsteady at first, he composes himself. 

“We need to find them,” I state, taking the flashlight beside him and turning it on. We start walking, hoping to find some sort of clue to where they could’ve been taken. The kitchen seems empty, and I’m about to walk out the door when Chris stops me. 

“Look.” He’s holding Ashley’s small pouch, embroidered with her initials. There’s some sort of red liquid on it, and I have to turn away. Fucking hell, this guy might have killed Ashley. 

“Not good, not good, not good” Chris keeps chanting to himself. I look worriedly up at him, he has to get it together. 

“Chris…” I whisper. “We need to keep a cold head, okay? Don’t jump to conclusions” 

I already feel the dread of my words. They might both already be dead, and I’m postponing the inevitable. 

“Yeah, you’re right” he whispers back. 

“But why would he keep me alive?”

“I don’t know…” I hadn’t thought about that, and I had no idea why. It didn't make sense. We make our way out of the kitchen, walking to the hallway. As we open the door, two crows fly by, and we both shriek. I’m about to ask what the birds are doing inside when I shine the light on the wall, covered in blood. “Shit shit shit” I ramble. This is not safe. We need to get out of here, out of the lodge and off this mountain. Chris grabs hold of my arm, clearly in shock. I keep going, dragging him with me. 

“Ash!”

“Josh!”

No one answers. The next door leads outside, and I look around. They must’ve gone outside, there are no other doors. We walk outside, and I shiver. I don’t know if it’s because of the cold or because I’m terrified. We walk down the stairs, and continue down the path. There’s blood spread several places over the snow. We come to a crossroad, and Chris starts walking left. I follow suit, coming to a small opening in the woods. We continue forward, Chris looking back to see that I’m still here. 

A man suddenly pops up from the ground, making both of us scream. It’s not a man, it’s a made up scarecrow-like prop. 

“What the hell?” I whisper. 

“Who would do this?” he asks, looking back at me again. 

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

I look forward, seeing something bloody and pink in the snow. I point there, making Chris shift his vision. We walk around the prop, seeing a bloodied pig-head at the bottom of a tree. 

“Aw, shit” he comments. And I gag. 

“Chris, I want to go” I state, already starting walking back. 

“Hey, hey. We still need to find the others”

I sigh in disappointment. Yes we do. I nod towards the other pathway, urging him to lead the way. He’s the man after all. We walk past the broken fence, eventually getting to a shed. 

“Ashley! Joshua!” we both shout, but yet again no answers. The shed’s door is open, and I hesitate going in, but Chris is already some paces in front, so I have to follow. There’s nothing much there, a bunch of tools and wood. Chris suddenly yells out. 

“Shit!”

I see a small cage falling from the ceiling, him barely dodging it. 

“What the fuck?” I whisper, and he shakes his head at me. 

“Chris!”

We both stop. That was definitely Ashley’s voice. 

“Ashley!” we yell in unison. We both run forward, looking around for her. 

“Where are you?” I ask. 

“I… I don’t know” she answers, and I try to follow the noise. I touch something cold and metallic. Wire fence. 

The light comes on, and we’re met with Ashley and Josh tied up against a couple of tree plates. 

“Josh! Ashley!” 

There’s a big, red saw in the middle of the room. 

“Guys, are you there?” she asks, looking up. 

“Hello, and thank you all for joining me” a dark voice says. I look around, seeing a speaker in one of the corners. 

“What the fuck?”

“Oh my god, Josh wake up!” she shouts again. I look over, seeing Josh open his eyes for the first time. 

“Oh Josh!” I shout, making him look over, giving me a confused yet scared look. I tug at the metal, but it’s not budging. 

“Tonight, we’re going to conduct a little experiment,” the unfamiliar voice says. Chris finds a door to the room, and he tries opening it, putting in his whole body. 

“Fuck fuck fuck!”

Ashley starts crying, scared out of her mind. 

“Don’t worry, we’re going to get you out of here” I tell them. 

I look around for something to cut the wire, anything, but can’t glimpse something useful. 

“A sort of test…”

“Ashley, what the hell is going on?” Josh asks, starting to shake, trying to get out of the grips. 

“Now, for this experiment, we’ll need the cooperation of our two test-subjects, Joshua and Ashley.”

“Holy shit, oh my god”

I grab the sides of my head. How the hell do we get them out of there? Chris is still trying to get the door open, but to no avail. 

“But, we’re going to need one more brave participant to help decide which subject will live, and which will die.” My stomach drops, and Chris stops tugging at the door, looking over at the both of them. No, this isn’t real. This can’t be. Ashley goes into full panic mode, screaming and trying to get loose from the ties. 

“Oh no no no!!!” 

“Chris…” I whisper, reaching out and touching his arm for comfort. What the hell is going on? He’s standing completely still, in a shocked state. 

“Get us out of here! Get us out of here now!” Ashley shouts while continuing to wiggle. 

“No you can’t do this, let me out of here you maniac!!” Josh shouts at the same time. My heart raises, and I look up to Chris. His eyes are wide open, and I can feel him shaking. 

“Please, please, everyone calm down” the Psycho continues. 

“It’s all very simple, Christopher”. Chris looks up at the speaker, waiting for some sort of instructions. 

“You will find a lever placed directly in front of you.” We both look forward, seeing a red lever with pictures of both Ashley and Josh. 

“All you have to do is choose who you will save.” My heart stops, eyes widens and hands shaking like they’ve never done before. The saw starts, making loud mechanical noises. 

“No no no no!” I yell, and start running to the door, trying to get it open. Chris is still standing still. 

“Please, stop, please” Ashley pleads, mascara running down her cheeks. 

“Don’t do this, stop this now” Josh demands. He looks over at me, and we lock eyes while I still do my best to get the door open. Chris suddenly gets out of his trance as he slowly backs away from the lever. 

“Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap” he keeps chanting. 

“Dude, buddy, let’s just think about this for a minute” Josh starts, but is interrupted by Ashley’s screams for help. 

“Get me out of here, please, please!” 

“You can’t let us die!”

Chris starts spiralling. 

“Just, just, just give me a second. I need to think.” He looks over at me for support, but I don’t know what to do. I give him the same panicked expression he bears himself. 

“I can’t think straight!” he shouts, grabbing his head in his hands, refusing to look at them. I want to help them, but I don’t know how. Ashley, who’s been my friends through good and bad, and Josh who I just started being with once again. They both had betrayed me in some way, but there was not a chance I was going to pull that lever. Tears fill my eyes as I stop tugging at the door, sinking down beside it. I can’t help but break down, the situation is too complex to do anything about. 

“Ashley, I will get you out of this, I won't let you die!” Chris comforts, but Ashley keeps her eyes shut while continuing crying. 

“Please, please no…” Josh begs. 

“Chris!” I yell over the sound of the saw. I stand up, looking around again. I see a small metal rod in the corner. I run for it, taking a hold of it before hearing the Psycho’s voice again. 

“You have chosen to save… Ashley”

“No Chris, no!” Josh shouts. Ashley keeps crying loudly. The saw starts moving toward Josh, and run to the door, placing the metall between it and the wall. 

“No no no no no” Chris rambles, not knowing what to do. 

“I thought we were friends, man! I thought we were friends. Why would you do this?” Josh cries, and I continue to push the metal. 

“No no Josh!” I hear Ashley shout. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Josh I- I don’t…” Chris continues, too deep to get his thinking straight. 

“Stop this, you can’t do this!” Chris shouts to the maniac. I hear Josh’s screams, hearing the saw starting to cut through him. The door cracks open, and run in, just in time to get covered by his blood.

“Josh!” I plead, and hear soft spoken protests before he goes silent. Ashley still has her eyes shut, crying, also covered by his blood. 

“Don’t look, guys, don’t!” Chris shouts. 

“Why? Why can’t I look, Chris, please tell me he’s okay” she whimpers. 

The door on the other side pops open, and Chris runs in and unties her. I rub the blood off my face, being met with a saw still moving, and Josh’s body parted in two. The world goes silent as I fall to my knees. His eyes are closed, his upper body still being held up by the ropes. I cry, loudly, screaming and shouting. I can’t breathe, my intakes small and quick. I feel two arms take hold of me, dragging me out of the room, and out of the shed. 

“We need to go” Chris whispers, his voice squeaky and broken. I let him lead me out to Ashley, who’s sitting in the snow, crying and shaking her head. 

“Chris!” a familiar voice says. Matt and Emily are coming towards us, their eyes filled with worry. They start running, Emily kneeling down to me, her face filled with horror. She uses my tears to dry off the blood on my cheeks. Matt gets a hold of Chris, keeping him on his feet. 

“Who’s blood is that?” Emily asks, clearly shaken already. 

“Are you guys okay?” Matt adds, having to use his full force to stop Chris from falling down. 

“Josh…” I whisper, and Emily looks down at me again. 

“Josh what?”

“H-he died” Chris begins, starting to cry even harder. Ashley can’t stop sobbing, mumbling ‘Josh’ over and over. 

“Right in front of us” Chris continues. 

“What?” Matt asks, clearly confused. 

“There’s this Psycho on the mountain” I add, grabbing Emily’s arm to keep myself up. 

“Wait what, a Psycho?” Matt asks, looking down at me, waiting for me to continue. 

“He’s going to kill us all” Ashley manages to squeak out. 

“Something’s not right” Matt states, looking at Emily. 

“We need to get out of here” she adds, helping me up on my feet before helping Ashley. 

“I still don’t understand what’s happening”

“There’s a maniac, and he killed Josh with a saw in some sick game”

“He’s going to kill all of us”

“I had to choose between him and Ash, and the saw cut him in two, spilling fucking everywhere and he dead and…”

Ashley falls to the ground again, but I am quick to grab her, keeping her steady. 

“What? What the fuck, oh my god Chris” Emily starts, but I don’t know what there’s to say. 

“I-I killed him, I did!” Chris cries. 

“No the Psycho did, you didn’t” I shakily tell him, holding onto Ashley for dear life. 

Matt and Emily look at each other. 

“No, this is insane, we need to get help” Emily states. 

“We’re going to figure this out” Matt says, keeping his hands on Chris. “We need to find the others” he adds, seeking confirmation from Emily. 

“But we also need help, Jess and Mike are off 69-ing each other and god knows where Sam is.”

“She’s in the lodge” I state, suddenly scared for her. I didn’t even think about looking for her before coming here. 

“Okay, we split” Emily starts. 

“You guys get to the lodge, find Sam. We’ll go get help, there was some radio tower on the mountain, we could try and reach someone there.”

I nod. At this point, Ashley has stopped crying, she’s just completely silent. Chris takes her off my hands, starting to walk back to the lodge. I follow them, turning around to Emily and Matt. 

“Be quick, come right back when you’re done” I demand, and they both nod back at me. I run back to Ashley and Chris, unbothered by all the animalistic sounds coming from the forest. I just cry, silently. Josh is dead. Josh, who I was with just an hour ago, is dead. The picture of him being capitated covers my mind, clouding all other senses.

I arrive at the lodge, but instead of walking in, I sit on the stairs, stroking my fingers over the scrape on my other arm. I touch my hand, still feeling a faint warmth where he held me. It’s in my imagination, but I still let myself believe it. I sit outside until the tears stop flowing, and my lips are cracked and skin salty. 

[redyarns]

caught in the undertow

Chapter: 6/?

Part: 1/5

Rating: E

Relationship(s): Orion Pax/Megatron, Optimus Prime/Megatron, Sentinel Prime/Bumblebee

Summary:

When Megatron, leader of the rebellion, escaped from prison, everybot knew one thing, and one thing only: he stole an innocent with him.

---

"I'm not a sheep, how dare you!" Orion hissed, bristling at the insult.

"Oh, really?" Megatron drawled. His red optics glanced up again, and Orion's glossa went dry.

Scrap.

Who knew the cruel and ruthless leader of the blasphemous rebellion was so... handsome?

Special note: This is a ROUGH DRAFT. It will go through some changes before it is officially posted on AO3. The majority of the themes will remain the same, but please don't be alarmed if the final draft on AO3 reads differently.

Scene: START!

Act I, Scene XIV: Atropa belladonna

It took Sentinel several kliks of lying completely still in unfamiliar sheets before his processor began to urge him to at least open his optics. He groaned lightly, his voicebox hoarse and crackling with static. He winced at both the sound and the sensation of his throat clicking in pain, and he tried to raise a servo to rub at it, wondering why the hell he was so - 

His servo caught on something. He froze, feeling a bit dumbfounded when he realized that the prickling sensation of his arm wasn’t because of some residual injury from training, but instead because it had spent the last - he checked his chronometer - four joors tucked tightly underneath Elita’s frame. 

The aristocratic femme was recharging silently beside him, her spinal strut curled slightly inwards with her facial plates towards him. If he listened carefully, he could pick up on the soft, whirling pattern of her slow vents. She was snuggled close so that her nose was pressed to his chassis as his servo curled up and over her dorsal plate to touch her hip. 

The light of Helios streamed in gently through the two windows of the room, and Sentinel felt his helm hit the pillow again as he sniffed the air and his cheeks burned at the lingering scent of ozone and transfluid. The lune cycle had certainly been… something, his processor provided meekly, flashes of last night (the way she arched on top of him, his frantic servos scrabbling uselessly at her sides, his spike throbbing as he choked) running across his vision in a decidedly unhelpful manner. 

That had been - uh - good. Very good. A bit too good, actually, and he felt shame as well as guilt burn through his frame as he thought about the way he had gripped her waist so desperately that bruises had almost instantly bloomed. As if to prove his dreadful thoughts right, he hesitantly lifted his helm again, his gaze roaming her figure. 

His optics lingered on her midsection, where, just like he suspected, there was a distinct pattern of five, circular bruises that lined up too easily with the length and spread of his digits. He almost brushed his servo against them, his guilt gnawing at him as he let his helm fall with no small amount of regret. 

Slag. He shouldn’t have been so rough; he was always too unaware of himself and his extremities, especially since he hit fifteen vorns and practically shot up in height, frightening his carrier into thinking he was going to end up being a roller rather than a flier. 

He lifted a servo and stared at it, clenching and unclenching his digits. These digits hurt Elita, he thought to himself. He had gotten carried away, too enthralled by her and the scent of charge, his olfactory sensors tingling with her smell of jubiline, and in his naivety and eagerness, he had allowed himself to slip out of his careful control. 

It felt awful, the more he thought about it. He hadn’t lost control like that since the first time he attempted to fly with both Bee and Orion and ended up gripping them so tightly that they both had bruises around their waists for cycles. It had horrified him to the point he refused to fly with them for vorns after that. 

Keeping control was important. Crucial. Essential. 

“Control yourself. You’re unsightly, Sentinel,” Ultra Magnus had once said to him. When was that? Sentinel’s processor whirled, and he blinked slowly as he recalled the way energon had dripped slowly down from his forehelm and how he’d tried hastily to wipe it away with a shaky wrist. 

Ultra had taken one look at his shallow breaths, cracked plating, and had made an expression of such disgust that even now, Sentinel’s processor had a hard time bringing up that particular memory file. It was distorted and filled with static, almost like he couldn’t remember properly, which was ridiculous since it only happened a sol ago. 

As if on cue, something twinged smartly in his shoulder, and he couldn’t stop himself from flinching as his neural subsystem practically shouted at him that he was pinching something. He grunted, his entire frame jolting, and his pain bled into guilt as Elita shuffled from her position on top of his arm. 

“My Prime?” She muttered, her spinal strut arching slightly as she stretched, an effortlessly seductive look on her as she slowly onlined her optics. She blinked them several times before she smiled up at him. “What are you doing?” 

He gave her a hesitant smile, feeling rather defeated as the pain reluctantly subsided and instead left him with nothing but a sense of embarrassment. His cheeks were warm and no doubt blue with energon, and he mentally groaned as he struggled to provide an answer. 

He was as eager to tell her the truth as much as he wanted to stick his bare aft over an open flame, so not at all. Instead, his sluggish processor (something he found was common around her and her beauty… urgh) simply made him smile stupidly again, and he said, “uh… good morning.” 

She laughed, a light and airy sound that made his spark jolt as she rolled over, the top half of her now draping across his chassis as she winded her arms around his neck. Like this, the top of her helm brushed alarmingly close to his dermas, and he swallowed as she smirked and said, “good morning, my Prime. Did you recharge well?” 

Sentinel shifted his gaze to the side, clearing his throat as he muttered, “of course. It was - fine. What about you?” 

Elita tilted her helm and didn’t answer as he prayed she wouldn’t see through his lie. 

Though that hadn’t been the worst sleep he had ever gotten, it still hadn’t been good. He always had trouble recharging even before Ultra took over the majority of his training, and now, well… He considered himself lucky if he only had the one nightmare or two. 

“You seem distracted,” Elita said, staring up at him with her large optics as he hastily began to try and distract himself by going through the notifications he had missed last lune. When he didn’t reply right away, she pouted, a subtle push of her full dermas as she leaned up and pressed a kiss to his chin. “Busy already? We’ve been awake for less than ten kliks, my Prime.” 

“I’m sorry,” he said sincerely, already feeling like he was messing up as he hesitantly reached down to peck her forehelm. It was apparently the right move, since she smiled widely up at him and giggled as he chuckled quietly. “There’s just a lot that I have to sort through. But as soon as I’m done then maybe we can spend the… spend the… uh…” 

He mumbled something incoherent as his processor pulled up the notification that had been bothering him up until now. He had made a note a long time ago that any message from Orion or Bee was to be marked as urgent, and he felt his spark lurch as he realized that this was the first time in vorns that he hadn’t managed to write back right away. 

He sat up, leaning against the headboard and mumbling a sorry to Elita when she protested, claiming she wanted to lie on him some more.

He felt dread gnaw at him from the inside out as he quickly began to slide through Orion’s messages, which started off well enough, but quickly devolved into frustration after Sentinel completely glossed over them. 

Private Comm Link (ID: #628317): Sentinel Prime? No, Sentinel Prick

Incoming message… 

DES: Orion Pax - ID: OP-001628

:: Sentinel! :: 

:: Look, Sen, I really need your help. I'm assuming you're still at the party, so could you get me Hot Rod's private comm line if you can? ::

:: I know it's a lot to ask but I seriously need to talk to him. :: 

:: … Sentinel? :: 

:: Sen, come on. Whatever happened between you and Bee, we can fix it. Don't be too upset. I seriously need you right now, buddy. :: 

:: Sen. :: 

:: Sentinel!!! ::

“Slag.” Sentinel swore quietly, running a servo down his face, his wings stiffening as they fluttered with his anxiety before he forcefully stopped them from moving so much. Primus, would he ever learn how to control them?

“What happened?” Elita asked.

“Nothing,” he said automatically. When she continued to stare at him in an unimpressed manner, he ex-vented slowly, and tried to think of what to say. “It’s - nothing. I promise. I guess I just forgot to reply to my friend last night, and… that hasn’t happened before.” 

Elita hummed. There was a glimmer to her optics as she leaned up and kissed him, the touch soft and coaxing, and he shuddered as he parted his dermas a little too eagerly and held her close when she traced the tip of her glossa against his bottom dentae. 

“Is this the same friend that Hot Rod reminded you of?” Elita muttered curiously, her small and nimble servos cradling his helm gently, like he was the most precious thing she had ever held. It melted him, and he felt his engine start to purr quietly in his chassis as Elita smiled into their kiss. 

“Hm?” He said dreamily, feeling rather off kilter as he tried to chase her when she broke contact and gently pushed him back, her legs swinging so that she was now straddling his lap as he fell onto the pillow again with a soft oof. It took him a few micro-kliks to try and remember what she was talking about, since, oh, Primus, she was a vision. “Oh, yes, that one. He’s very close to me, and I feel bad for not being able to respond right away.” 

“There’s no need to feel bad,” she said sympathetically, her digits fluttering across his collar plates and causing him to tremble slightly. His wings in particular were practically vibrating, and he gave up any pretense of controlling them when she stroked a particularly sensitive spot. “Your friend sounds like he’s difficult, don’t you think?” 

“I wouldn’t say that,” Sentinel said rather hoarsely, his optics squeezing shut when she leaned down and bit gently at his neck cables. “Ah - he’s a great friend, he’s been there for me for vorns - oh, frag - “ 

Elita clicked her glossa gently, the sound both fond and exasperated. “If he’s really that precious of a friend, then shouldn’t he be understanding that you have your own life to live?” 

“Well… I mean…” he said, trailing off weakly as she stared at him pointedly and settled more in his lap, her wiggle pressing her interface panel right up against his as energon pumped wildly in his veins. 

It was difficult to think through the haze of charge that ran through him, though his processor did pause to whirl on what she said. It wasn’t like he was lying; Orion really was a great friend, and he and Bee had been the biggest pillars for Sentinel ever since they met as sparklings. There was very little Sentinel wouldn’t do for either of them, stuff that he wouldn’t do even for Ultra. 

But it did bother him, just the slightest bit, how Elita’s words resonated with him. Though he knew that Orion always had his reasons, sometimes those reasons were just so ridiculous that it caused him more stress or trouble than it was worth. He couldn’t think of one decent answer as to why Orion needed to speak with the newest to-be-named trailblazer, though some part of Sentinel dreaded the thought that he had an idea as to why. 

Megatron. These sols, every single thing that Orion did led to that blasted mech, and Sentinel honestly didn’t understand. Initially, he had indulged his friend because a tiny part of Sentinel had been curious, too. The names Megatron and his rebels had been more of a myth than reality at that point, and he’d feebly wondered what the real mech was like. 

After finding out, he had simply categorized Megatron as the criminal as he was. So when Orion had insisted on feeding the damn bot, and even worse, began to extend sympathy… Sentinel feared for his friend, he really did. There was only so much someone could play with a line before they fully crossed over. 

And Orion asking for the personal comm link of a mech who was about to climb the ranks and become an elite was definitely hopping over that line. Obliterating it, even. 

“I should text back, shouldn’t I?” Sentinel said in a small voice, now feeling more unsure than ever as Elita paused on top of him. 

She tilted her helm, and for a fleeting moment, her gaze sharpened. It was razor-thin and so quick that he began to doubt if it ever even happened, and when she spoke, it was still as sweet and soothing as ever. “If you want. Just tell him you were busy. He doesn’t need more than that.” 

Right. 

Right, because - because Sentinel had other things to do than just lounge around for Orion like some messed up pet waiting on its master. (Don’t you already do that? No, he didn’t. Really? Ultra only likes complete obedience from you. Because he was Sentinel’s mentor. Because you don’t deserve decency? Because you don’t deserve dignity? Fine, then. You're pathetic. Stop it. Why? Because you're ashamed? Some future Prime you are. You can't even protect yourself. How are you going to protect the world? Enough! So shameless. So selfish, stupid, nothing's ever enough - )

Private Comm Link (ID: #628317): Sentinel Prime? No, Sentinel Prick

Outgoing message… 

DES: Sentinel - ID: SN-402021

:: Sorry, I was… occupied.:: 

Almost immediately, Sentinel's communication chip pinged him that a call was coming through, and of course it was Orion. But before he even had a chance to acknowledge it properly, Elita was pressing down on him more insistently, and he felt like he was floating as she kissed him again. 

The call rang at the back of his mind, mixing into a hazy mix with the amount of notifications his charge was sending through his interface subsystem. He flailed slightly, still unused to any of this even after joors last night learning how to touch and be touched, but he had already ignored Orion for too long, he should at least pick this call up. 

… Right? 

“H - Hold on - “ Sentinel mumbled in between kisses, feeling rather disoriented and overwhelmed as Elita simply hummed and pressed closer. Already, her servo was dragging down his chassis, and he shivered at the touch, unable to stop himself from ignoring the hot, sweet sensation of her dermas, but also unable to completely snuff the comm call line, which was ringing insistently. “E-Elita, just - just one micro-klik, okay?” 

“I’m doing a bad job at this if you’re still thinking of taking that call.” Elita huffed, but her swollen intake was pulled into a smile as she let out a small, exasperated sigh and then fully draped herself over him, her arms crossed across his chassis as she tilted her helm and smirked. “Fine, then. Answer it, my Prime.” 

He gave her a shaky, nervous smile, his servos flexing with uncertainty on her warm hips as he cleared his throat, accepted the annoyingly insistent call, and hesitantly said out loud, “hello?”

“Sentinel!” Orion’s voice blasted through his processor at a decibel so high that he immediately flinched. He turned down the volume hastily, grateful that at the very least, Elita wouldn’t be able to hear Orion’s side of the conversation regardless of the noise. “Dude, why the hell didn’t you respond to my comms last lune?” 

“I do actually have a life outside of you, you know,” Sentinel said in exasperation, darting his gaze down and trying not to gulp when he saw and felt the way Elita began to trace loop shapes on his paint. Holy shit, he needed to wrap this call up yesterday. “Get on with it, O - “ 

He barely managed to bite back Orion’s name in time as Elita pressed a small, fleeting kiss to his collar. It was hard enough to keep his focus with her in the same room as him, but with her entire frame firmly on top of his, and worst of all, with her flirting… She was a temptress and knew just how weak he was for her. 

He needed to be careful. It was already a risk to accept Orion’s comm and have Elita listen to Sentinel’s part of the conversation. If he slipped up and revealed too much about who Orion actually was, then there was no doubt to Sentinel that Elita wouldn’t approve. 

Him, a high caste bot, but more than that, the future Prime, talking to a miner? And addressing him so kindly at that, as well? Dire consequences would surely follow. Sentinel still bore the marks and sting of the last time he had made that mistake in front of Ultra. His wrist twinged slightly as it rested against Elita’s waist. 

“I told you, I needed to speak with Hot Rod,” Orion said impatiently. Sentinel could practically see the way he must have looked at that moment; tilting his helm and rolling his optics because he was just that obnoxious when it came to getting what he wanted. “Please don’t tell me he’s already left.” 

“Why do you need to talk to him?” Sentinel forced out, placing a servo on the back of Elita’s helm in some poor attempt to both stop and encourage her as she began to nip at his neck cables. He coughed, a small amount of static running through his hoarse voice as he said, “you can’t just ask me for something and not tell me why. That’s not how this works. And I already told him good luck for you.” 

“Well, I was wrong. Luck has no place within the ceremony,” Orion said tightly. He sounded different, tense, and it was enough of a change that it made Sentinel frown, smile apologetically at Elita, and then sit up, gently wrapping his arm around her waist so she wouldn’t fall. 

Her optics narrowed and she was definitely displeased, but she still hooked her elbows around his shoulder plates and leaned her cheek onto one of them as he said, “what are you talking about?” 

There was no answer. 

Sentinel's face pinched as he went through a quick systems check with his processor, but everything was fine. It was already hard enough to shut Orion up over text comms, but verbal comms were a whole thing altogether. And Sentinel had known Orion since they were sparklings; maybe Sentinel even knew Orion more than he knew himself, so it was easy to pick up on the uneasiness of his tone. 

Something was wrong. 

“Hey,” Sentinel said more gently this time, allowing his previous annoyance to soften into empathy. Though he couldn't deny that maybe Elita had been right in that Orion could be pushy, that didn't take away from the fact that he was still one of Sentinel's closest friends. “Come on, talk to me. What's going on?” 

“There's more to the ceremony than we know,” Orion finally said, his voice strained. It was gruffer than usual and there was a small shuffling noise on his end, like he was climbing something. What the hell? “Just - look. Is he still there or not?” 

Sentinel squinted up at the ceiling as he tried to make sense of whatever Orion was rambling about. His weird insistence to talk to Hot Rod was already a bit strange, but the ceremony on top of that… As far as Sentinel was aware, Orion had never been that interested in the Iacon 5000 or the subsequent trailblazer ceremony that followed. 

Why was he suddenly expressing such blatant regard for it now? 

“You mean Hot Rod?” Sentinel said after a klik of silence. Elita moved slightly on top of him, and when he glanced down at her, she gave him a look of what's going on? He tried to reassure her with a smile, but she simply nudged him, which he tried to brush off. “Of course not. I don't know where he is, he and Ultra left together last night I think.” 

“Fuck.” Orion swore. “He was my only chance! Shit. Okay, it's… okay. That's fine, it just means I have to go see Megatron sooner than I thought I would.” 

Okay. That was definitely not what Sentinel had expected nor wanted to hear. 

He practically leapt up from the berth, mouthing apologies to Elita, who was left sprawled on the sheets with an indignant expression twisting her pretty face. She huffed and draped herself more elegantly across the mesh as he hissed way too urgently, “what the frag are you talking about, you bucket of bolts? No! It's been less than a sol since you last saw him, are you fragging kidding me?” 

“He has the answers that I need, Sen!” Orion pushed back. “He's the only one who can help me figure out what's actually going on!” 

Sentinel felt like ripping the paint off his helm as he buried his face into his servos and tried to vent steadily. He couldn’t fucking believe this. All this trouble and flack for, what, Megatron? Again? Why was Orion like this? Why was he so obsessed with a mech like him? What could Megatron have possibly said to sway one of the best bots Sentinel knew? 

“You promised me that you weren’t compromised,” Sentinel said, his voice edging into something sharper, more dangerous. He paced steadily on the rug beside the berth, occasionally sparing Elita a glance whenever she made a small noise of inquiry, but he shoved away any distracting thought about her as he was mortified instead by the way Orion remained silent. “Answer me. Tell me that you aren’t actually starting to care for that - that - “ 

He couldn’t even say it. Not even because uttering it out loud would reveal too much to Elita, who continued to observe him with wide optics, but because Sentinel honestly felt sick as he realized that something had shifted. Whatever change had occurred, it started last night, when he was too occupied to be a proper friend and dissuade Orion from getting involved in something he very well could never get out of. 

“What’re you implying?” Orion snapped. He sounded agitated, on edge, and there was a muffled noise from his end of the comm, like he had just slammed a door shut. His words were tense and Sentinel didn’t understand. “Why’re you interrogating me, Sen? You know I never do anything without reason! Why’re you acting like this?”

Sentinel was floored, and he sat down abruptly on the edge of the berth, the force of him doing as much so impactful that it lightly bounced Elita on the sheets. His wings drooped on top of the mesh out of his shock, and he knew that he was staring directly at the bland painting hung on the wall across from him, but he couldn’t even begin to comprehend it as he tried to digest what Orion had just said to him. 

“What?” Sentinel said, his voice almost hysterical as he gripped his servos into fists and his wings began to tighten so much that they were practically flat against his spinal strut. “Why am I acting like this? Why the hell are you acting like this, you afthole? Are you trying to spin this and pin this onto me when I’m not the one who’s compromised? Huh? Don’t you fucking dare - “

“Primus, Sen! You’re seriously getting mad over something that isn’t a big deal - “

“It actually is a big deal, you’re literally asking me for another favor, again, and you won’t even - “ 

“It’s not a favor! Oh, for - it’s a freaking solid, and you and I always - “ 

“Always what?” Sentinel spat, and by this point he was shouting, his voice hoarse and crackling with static as he gripped his own patellas so hard that it was a wonder the armor didn’t crack. His helm was spinning and he couldn’t vent properly; had he ever yelled at Orion before? “Go on, say it! It’s always you and me, except it’s me getting dragged into another one of your master plans that ends up getting us in trouble in more ways than one!” 

“This is bigger than just you holding a petty grudge!” Orion hissed. It occurred to Sentinel just then that Orion was shouting, too. He had never heard it before, honestly, and it was jarring. Maybe a little scary. Not because Orion himself was a particularly menacing mech, but because they had never done this before. They had never… fought, and Sentinel felt sick. “Can’t you see that? I’m sorry that you have such a busy life, I’m sorry that you’re doing all your fucking aristocratic bullshit - “ 

“Aristocratic bullshit?” Sentinel cried out. He couldn’t tell if his vocalizer was cracking from the anger that boiled inside of him like magma, threatening to spill over and eagerly burn every part of this conversation, or worse, because of the tears that were starting to well up in his rapidly blinking optics. “You know it’s not like that! I’m working my fragging aft off so I can be a good Prime! So I can be a good Prime for you!” 

“For fuck’s sake, Sentinel, I never asked you to be Prime!” Orion shouted. 

Silence. 

Sentinel’s ragged venting filled the room, his breathing off and inconsistent as he stared dizzily at that damn painting, unable to make sense of its swirls and colors. He sat there, lost, hurt, angry, everything he had never felt for Orion, his dearest friend. Orion, his biggest supporter. Orion, his brother. 

Orion… 

Who had just told him he never wanted Sentinel to be Prime. Sentinel had never known anything but how to be one. He had been raised on this, told that this was his path, and that nothing could lead him astray. For a long time, he had believed Ultra who told him that everything, including friends, could be a distraction. But Sentinel had told himself that just this once, he could ignore Ultra. 

Just this once, he could pretend that he was a miner like Orion and Bee, who weren’t miserable even despite their ranks, and seemed happier than Sentinel, who felt like he was often carrying the weight of the world on just his shoulders alone. 

Just this once, he had allowed Orion liberties, taken him places he couldn’t, and let him do things that Sentinel would never allow anyone else because Orion had never once not told Sentinel with the uttermost confidence: “you’ll be a better Prime than any of the Thirteen were.” 

The tears fell. 

They were warm and soft on his cheekplates, and his hardly functional processor told him that he was running low on tear solvent. Of course he was running low on tear solvent. These weren’t the normal kind of tears he usually cried during moments of pain or frustration or even dramatic manipulation for when he needed one of the staff to do something for him and he wanted to appear extra pitiful. 

These were tears of hurt. 

A servo draped gently over his own. He watched blankly, his vision swimming and watery, as slowly, digits smaller than his own curled in between his and held them in a way they had never been held before. 

“Sentinel,” Elita said. He could barely focus on her. Her voice was like a phantom to him. “Enough.” 

Enough, Sentinel repeated. Enough of this. 

“Aren’t you tired?” 

I am. 

“Don’t you deserve better?” 

Do I?

“He isn’t worth anything.” 

That’s not right… 

“He’s nothing.” 

No, that’s… 

“Let it end.” 

But… 

“Stop.” 

“Stop,” Sentinel muttered. 

“You’re right,” Orion said after a brief pause. His voice was thicker, and he cleared his vocalizer. Almost like he was sorry. Was he, though? Was he sorry? Was he sorry for implying that Sentinel was only that, an aristocrat? Was he sorry for taking back all his support as Sentinel strived harder and harder to be a good Prime? What was he sorry for? Was he sorry at all? When did he and Sentinel stop talking? When had they been reduced to this? “I should have stopped. That - that was low of me. I’m - “ 

“Figure it out, Orion.” Sentinel interrupted. He stared at the painting. His voice was hard and cool, and there was no more room for argument. “I’m done saving you.” 

He ended the call with a soft click. He immediately blocked the notification of Orion trying to reconnect, and instead found himself blinking through his tears as Elita practically leapt into his lap, her engine purring something fierce in her chassis as she leaned up and began to smother him in kisses. 

“You did so well, my Prime.” Elita practically purred, her optics gleaming and her touch purposeful as she stroked his audials, then his cheeks, and rubbing away any of his tears with a surprisingly firm nudge. “You don’t need the likes of Orion. You’re the next Prime. You’re the most intelligent. The strongest. The best. You don’t need anyone.” 

Oh, Sentinel thought to himself dully, slowly leaning down to press a kiss to Elita’s eagerly waiting dermas, though for the life of him, he couldn’t stop looking over her shoulder, right at that framed painting that he had been staring at the entire time. Except it wasn’t a painting. 

It’s a mirror, he realized. 

For a moment, he thought he saw Ultra in his place. 

Just for a moment.

Scene: END!

Next scene: coming soon!

[naivegh0st]

Okay so this was originally going to be a reblog to this post but I had more to say than I thought I did and it got too long and rambly to be a reblog so here are my Frederica interpretations/headcanons and I know we don't have much to go off of but she is a whole character in my head.

So for me a big thing about Frederica is that I think she's very good at what she does like at being a Knight but not good enough for the Gunnhildr standards and she internalised that so hard. I just think the Gunnhildr's have impossibly high standards for their heirs because of how prestigious they are as a family in Mondstadt. (They where the first family to follow and be blessed by Barbatos and fought alongside him to promote him to Anemo Archon, like yeah there are other important families in Mondstadt but they are the ones). And like if you were to ask anyone in the knights what they thought of Frederica they'd only have good things to say, but to Frederica she's kind of a bit of a failure because like she didn't get one of the four winds titles, she "lost" to Varka - someone who as far as we know isn't from any important family- and not only that but she didn't get a vision. And we know that her position in the knights has "long surpassed any ordinary Captain" yet she chooses to stay as a Commander, possibly because she kind of feels there's no point as she wasn't deemed to have the potential to lead and she's like "Well maybe I can just be an amazing field knight" and maybe maybe maybe if she keeps throwing herself on the front lines in defence of Mondstadt she'll be recognised by the gods.

And then while still quite young she meets Seamus and they fall in love and get married and have kids (maybe because they want to or maybe because she's a Gunnhildr so she must produce an heir, or maybe a bit of both) and then she has this kid and its like this chance to be a good Gunnhildr again, by producing this amazing heir, and also she probably doesn't want her kid to feel how she felt, like she's good but not enough to be a Gunnhildr, so she's just so determined to make this kid into the ideal Gunnhildr, at the sacrifice of being a good mother. And I think this would cause her to clash with Seamus, who's a bit taken aback by how authoritarian and demanding she is of this kid, and put strain on their relationship, like they're having frequent arguments about how they should parent Jean. And then they have Barbara and when she's old enough Frederica starts doing the same to her as she did to Jean, but Barbara didn't take to it as well and maybe Frederica kind of sees herself in that because even though Barbara's not good now, she could train her whole life and improve, but she'd never be a Jean, or a Diluc or a Varka. And I think seeing Barbara struggle kind of reignites her whole fear of failing to be a Gunnhildr and she ups both of their training and that's what makes Seamus realise that there is no getting through to her, that he's been asking and asking and asking her to tone it back for years and she had, in little ways, but it takes only one thing to go slightly wrong and now all those conversations and arguments may as well not have happened and so he just gives up on trying to get through to her and just files for a divorce, with the aim to at least get Barbara away from Frederica as it's kind of too late for Jean at this point.

And this leaves Frederica with a lot of unwanted attention/speculation as I reckon her and Seamus where seen as like The Ideal Couple so for them to divorce would have people speculating (especially as there's fuck all else to do in Mondstadt). And obviously she's just been divorced which I don't think she'd take too well bc I think she really did love Seamus and despite feeling she's not good enough she's still a Gunnhildr, she's still proud, she's still in control and getting divorced would obviously be a jab at that pride and a stripping away of her control of the situation. And I think all of this would give her a kind of sunk cost fallacy like view of Jean's success, like she's lost so much because of how she chose to raise Jean and instead of self reflecting and being like "huh maybe I did something bad" she just sees the consequences as the price she had to pay for the prize of Jean's success. And so she just really zeroes in on making Jean a good Knight and in doing so destroys their already fragile relationship (I think it would especially have this effect as I always headcanoned Jean to be abt 12-13ish when her parents divorced which is a really emotionally volatile age anyway, nevermind having your parents divorce and your sister taken away and then the parent you're left with is just treating you even worse and you just don't really get why any of this is happening but all you do know is you're with your mum now and you're feeling the worst you ever have). And then there's just the two of them in this massive house and they're both just really upset but don't have the relationship to talk about it and they just fall into this kind of cycle where Frederica is upset and lets it alter her treatment of Jean, who then gets more upset and Frederica sees this and is like "why does my daughter hate me doesn't she see all that I've lost for her" and then gets more upset and so on and so forth. I do think they're arguing a lot around this time until Jean gets older and kind of mellows out and just gives up on arguing back because it gets her nowhere and Frederica's like "Finally, all my shouting and demanding and strictness and probably a handful of instances of physical abuse have payed off and worked and now my daughter is great again. And look! She just got her Lion of The South title I must be doing such a good job."

And I think she views how she raised Jean as necessary to make her into the knight she is, but when Jean moves out she's kind of like "huh, I have absolutely no friends or family, only the vague respect of random civilians." And only then does she try to amend her relationship with her daughters (because only then does she realise she doesn't really have one, I think she viewed motherhood as something that would just happen, that one day Jean and Barbara would just kind of accept how she raised them and love her anyway), but she can't exactly just go and talk to them because they never really had a relationship like that in the first place, so she just kind of sends gifts that leave especially Jean really conflicted to receive.

[mswyrr]

more on michelin stars

I genuinely think it's going to be an important plot point in s3 re: why exactly Sydney wants a star and why *one* specifically. I went and researched and discovered something I used in my fic, which is that one Michelin star restaurants are excellent cuisine that normal people can still afford. And that connected, for me, to what Sydney had told Marcus about how going out was so special when she was a kid and she wanted to share that kind of amazing thing with people:

We didn't really like eat out a lot growing up, so when we did, it felt special even if it wasn't.... I wanna cook for people and make them happy and give them the best bacon on Earth (1x08)

I'm so hopeful/convinced that the research they have with, like, Matty (the chef who plays Fak) right there on set, means the writers know that about what one star places can be like. And that it's meant to be part of this - more humane vision of excellence for Sydney, where their spot is AMAZING, but it's not a cruel kitchen culture, it's not only for the rich.

For her, it’s *part* of her vision, where she says: 

“I think this place could be so different from all the other places we've been at. But, in order for that to be true, we need to run things different.“ (1x03)

But Carmy sees a star and all it means (all he’s ever known it to mean) as a repudiation of that kind of humanity. You say the word "star" and immediately Carmy goes "fuck stars" (2x01) as pure self-defense - because stars are just pain and suffering to him. They're NYC chef and everything that mess became.

He's so traumatized by the whole thing he doesn't think to ask the right questions: why do you want one? What is your vision for it? Why do you specifically want *one* instead of two or three? What timeline do you have in mind for getting there and how can we strategize on this together?

Instead, because he wants so desperately to please her, despite that instinctive, self-defensive "fuck stars" he relents and asks - okay, are you sure? Are you positive this is what you want? Really?? It's terrible. It's just dread and fear and throwing up every day before work. You really want me to give you this?

(I’ll give you anything you want)

He never asks the right questions. Just assuming the level of pain which is his only experience of this is what the thing IS--playing into that theme about how people only know what they're taught, only know what they are given, and if we are given pain and patterns of it it is so hard to even imagine things can be different and, when you can imagine it, still so hard to actually get there.

(It’s not a coincidence that the ASL sign is one of the few positive, healthy examples of kitchen culture Carmy witnessed - we only know what we’re taught, and it can be hard work to even figure out what “not shitty” IS let alone doing it)

So he's assuming all of that and it's like - if she's his CDC, does she want him to push her as hard as he was pushed? Push himself that hard again? He doesn't want to do either of those things. But that's all he knows. And she keeps saying this is what she wants. And he wants to give her everything she wants.

(In the same conversation she kept saying yes, this is what I want, she expressed admiration for the designer chef outfit he later buys her as a gift - he wants to give her everything she wants, even when it seems like a terrible idea he’s torn about)

I think this misunderstanding is intentional and it’s going to come out in S3. A one star restaurant fits so perfectly with what we know of Sydney’s goals and love for her work! And Carmy not able to even conceive of something better because of the patterns he’s stuck in and finding his way to her vision makes sense for him.

I think Carmy figuring out how this work can be joyful and humane is going to be a huge part of S3. Sydney not becoming lost in the high stress environment, not following in younger!Carmy's footsteps living a life of pure drive and dread, and Carmy finding that for the first time.

I do think that, given where they both end in 2x10, there’s going to be a period of conflict and a real bunch of issues for both of them - but with themes and ideas like this seeded into the story there’s so many ways to make s3 start out in a bad way and then really end in joy in a beautiful way?

[cak31ssuperi04]

fun fact: Them

[francesderwent]

but you should’ve seen him when he first got me…

dive bar on the east side, where you at? phone lights up my nightstand in the black. come here you can meet me in the back —> wait for the signal and I’ll meet you after dark, show me the places that the others gave you scars

I’m perfectly fine, I live on my own, I made up my mind I’m better off being alone. we met a few weeks ago, now you try on calling me ‘baby’ like trying on clothes —> oh, I’m falling in love, I thought the plane was going down. how’d you turn it right around?

I got a boyfriend, he’s older than us, he’s in the club doing I don’t know what. you’re so cool, it makes me hate you so much. whiskey on ice, sunset and vine, you’ve ruined my life by not being mine —> maybe I’ll see you out some weekend depending on what kind of mood and situationship I’m in and what’s in my system. I think there’s been a glitch.

our secret moments in a crowded room, they got no idea about me and you —> romance is not dead if you keep it just yours

and I snuck in through the garden gate every night that summer just to seal my fate —> head on the pillow, I could feel you sneaking in, as if you were a mythical thing, like you were a trophy or a champion ring and there was one prize I'd cheat to win

I scream, “for whatever it’s worth, I love you ain’t that the worst thing you ever heard?” he looks up grinning like the devil —> the first night that you saw me, nothing was gonna stop me, I laid the groundwork and then saw a wide smirk on your face: you knew the entire time! you knew that I’m a mastermind, and now you’re mine. yeah, all you did was smile.

back when we were card sharks playing games, I thought you were leading me on. I packed my bags, left Cornelia Street before you even knew I was gone. then you called, showed your hand, turned around before I hit the tunnel —> got a sense I’d been betrayed, your finger on my hairpin trigger. soldier down on that icy ground looked up at me with honor and truth, broken and blue, so I called off the troops. that was the night I nearly lost you

and he’s passing by rare as the glimmer of a comet in the sky —> one night a few moons ago I saw flecks of what could have been lights but it might just have been you passing by unbeknownst to me

[avirxy]

beauty and beast au but Claire’s the one cursed because she’s the only one I can see literally pissing a sorceress off enough to get cursed. (If we’re going off the original movie Jim would probably offer them a hot meal and a room for the night, knowing him he’d make everything super accommodating)

[itspileofgoodthings]

ended up telling my mom “she’s a billionaire pop star … she’s also a songwriter I’ve loved for a long time. both of those things are true.”