#but I can see how that could be taken as ‘trying to tell others how to feel’

[autumnscribbles]

take care of you | rc

pairing: mommyissues!rafe x pogue!reader

summary: after a heated argument with ward, rafe seeks comfort from the only woman in his life who’s ever stayed

warnings: wee bit of theorizing about mama cameron (death)

wc: 1.8k

a/n: hey friends!! thank you to the anon that sent this request in!! i love me a soft rafe moment who just needs to be held🥹 enjoy!! feel free to send me more angsty/soft rafe i love it!!!

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘

Rafe slammed the truck door shut behind him, twisting his key into the ignition. Ward stood in the doorway ahead of him, his mouth moving but his words unheard. Rafe stopped listening to him even before he decided to leave. He couldn’t listen to it anymore. The rain pelted the windowsill, overpowering the pounding sound of his accelerated heartbeat. He pulled out of the driveway, no destination in mind. He just had to leave.

As he drove, his headlights broke through the rain ahead, illuminating the pitch black road. His breathing was still heavy, trying to ignore his fight with Ward. They weren’t exactly few and far between, but this one had escalated particularly badly. He replayed it over and over, on the verge of screaming just to make it stop.

He didn’t know why he tried to hard to impress Ward, or to get his validation. Everyone is his life left in one way or another. Whether it was on their own terms, or they were taken. He clung to Ward and the fact that just maybe, he would stick around. Be proud of him. In the end, everyone gave up on him. Everyone screwed him over.

Except maybe one person.

When Rafe first met you, he didn’t like you. He never thought he could be friends with a pogue, let alone be with one romantically. You had too much confidence for someone who didn’t have very much. He admit, he thought less of you. He judged you about things that didn’t truly matter. Eventually, he began to find you endearing. You didn’t need boats, a big house, designer clothes, or anything material to be happy. You knew who you were, and he admired that.

You understood him in ways no kook ever had, and probably more than any kook ever will. You knew hardship, and you saw through his bravado. You could tell deep down, he was in pain. No money could fix what was truly happening inside. All the other kooks were shallow. Never having any conversations with substance, just rambling about bullshit. Rafe never really fit in with any of them. He pretended to be friends with most of them, to keep up appearances and his reputation. At the end of the day, he knew none of them truly cared about him. Even worse, he knew they would mock him if they knew he was with you.

Without realizing, Rafe ended up pulling into your driveway. Through the still pouring rain, he could barely see your house. All the lights were off, including the porch light. Were you home? He didn’t even know. As his mind reeled, he automatically drove here. He wanted to see you. Wanted your comfort. Before you, he hadn’t had that in a long time. Since his mom…no one had ever been there for him. No one to tell him things would be okay, no one to comfort him, or hold him. He craved it.

He hopped out of the car, jogging through the rain to your front door. He rapped his knuckles, hoping you would appear on the other side. He saw a light turn on inside, and exhaled a sigh of relief.

You opened the door, met with a dripping wet and sad looking Rafe on the other side. You were surprised to see him. You had some distance from each other recently, since Rafe told you that his friends couldn’t know about your relationship. You pulled back as he continued to hang out with them, unsure how to move forward.

Seeing him here made your heart sink. He pouted as his blue eyes bore into yours, sadness overcoming his entire expression.

“Can I come in?” he asked. “Please.”

“Of course,” you muttered. You stepped aside, letting Rafe into your empty house.

He crossed the threshold, a shiver coming over his body at the sudden change of temperature. His wet clothes left him cold, making the warmth of your house even more shocking to his system. He wiped at his face in attempt to dry it.

“Are you cold?” you asked gently. “Here let me go get you some clothes and a blanket.”

You walked away for a moment, leaving Rafe standing in your doorway. You gathered a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie that belonged to your brother. He wasn’t here, he wouldn’t mind. You snatched your fuzzy blanket from your bed, scurrying back to where Rafe stood waiting. You passed him the clothes, offering him to go change.

As he took his time, you put a kettle of water on the stove. Opening your white cabinets, you rummaged through the various flavours of tea you had. You settled on chamomile. You knew Rafe liked it, even though he would never admit it to literally anyone else. You grabbed 2 mugs and placed the tea bags inside as the kettle began whistling.

You took the two steaming mugs out to the coffee table, where Rafe sat on the couch, waiting for you.

“Here,” you muttered, handing him the mug. You grabbed the blanket, placing it across his lap. “That should warm you up.”

“Thank you,” he said softly, gentle eyes looking up at you.

You sat down beside him, tucking your legs up on the couch. You both sat in silence for a moment, sipping your tea. He let out a small sigh after his first sip, a little smile tugging at his lips.

“My favorite,” he whispered. You responded with a nod.

“You take such good care of me,” he said, breaking the silence more. “I don’t deserve it.”

“Rafe,” you sighed.

He shook his head, not wanting you to deny the truth. He didn’t want you to tell him that he deserved it when he knew it wasn’t true. You were consistently there for him, exuding a kindness he’d never felt. Yet what did he do in return? Essentially tell you he’s embarrassed about your relationship. It was ridiculous, and you shouldn’t be nice to him.

“Come here,” you whispered, opening your arms to him.

His eyes welled up with tears, and he leaned over, resting his head on your lap. You tugged the blanket up slightly higher, covering his torso. You ran your hands through his hair and down his back, feeling the tension release from his body.

Unexpectedly, the tears continued to fall harder. Rafe’s breath caught in his throat as he heaved out a sob.

“You’re okay,” you cooed. “I’m here.”

He let out all the emotions he had been trained to hold back. Grown men didn’t cry. Strong men didn’t cry. This is what he was told over and over. No one ever let him express himself freely, or show vulnerability. For some reason, he felt safe to show it around you. Confident that you didn’t judge him, or view him as weak.

He didn’t realize how much he was craving to just be held. To have his hair played with, his back scratched. To be told it’s okay. He couldn’t remember a time when someone treated him so gently. He wondered if his mom was the last person who truly took care of him. Now, he felt responsible to take care of people around him most of the time.

“Talk to me,” you said. “What happened?”

“My dad,” he blurted out. He rubbed the tears from his eyes, taking a deep breath as he tried to compose himself. “We got into a fight, as always. I accused him of…of killing my mom.”

“What?” you asked, unable to hide the shock in your voice. “Do you really think…”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I was too young, but sometimes what he says just doesn’t add up. Doesn’t matter anyway, not like anything would happen to him.”

You nodded silently, knowing he was right. Even if Ward had killed her, no justice would be had. You knew Rafe grappled with the loss of his mom. Rose wasn’t exactly a replacement. She was cold, unkind. Rafe was in a constant battle with Ward. Trying to impress him, get his validation. Rafe grew up wanting his dad’s success, but most of all he just wanted his love. His acceptance. He didn’t think he would ever have a real family. That possibility only came into view when he met you.

“I’m so sorry, Rafe,” you consoled him. “I know how tense things can get with your dad. My arms are always open if you need a break, or need to talk.”

He sat up from your lap, facing you. His eyes were bloodshot from his previous tears. His usually hard features had softened, his eyes still carrying a deep sadness that you knew you couldn’t fix.

“I’m going to tell everyone we’re together,” he told you. “You’re…you’re perfect. You don’t deserve to be hidden. I don’t deserve you in general.”

“It’s okay,” you whispered. “When you’re ready.”

“I’m ready,” he nodded. “I think…I think you’re the only person who actually cares about me. Who listens and…sees me.”

Your eyes welled up slightly. You weren’t expecting Rafe to say something so vulnerable like this. His rough edges were beginning to soften around you.

“I see you, Rafe,” you told him. You reached out and cupped the side of his face, brushing your thumb along his cheekbone.

He leaned forward, his warm lips crashing onto yours. The kiss was desperate, yet gentle. You didn’t realize how much you had missed this. When you pulled away, Rafe’s eyes were glistening once more.

“Everyone in my life leaves, or screws me over,” he told you, repeating his previous thoughts. “Please don’t leave me.”

You pulled him towards you, wrapping your arms around him. He melted into your touch, safety and warmth encompassing his entire being.

“I’m here, Rafe,” you whispered. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You heard his stomach gurgle, making you let out a quiet chuckle. “Hungry?”

He nodded into the crook of your shoulder. You laughed once more as he pulled back, a smirk on his face.

“Let me make you something,” you told him. You planted a kiss on his cheek before standing up, placing the blanket over his carefully. “You just sit here and relax, okay?”

“I love when you take care of me, baby,” he murmured as he rested his head on the arm of the couch.

You smiled down at him before going into the kitchen to make him some food. He felt safe with you. You had to admit that your heart soared at the thought that you were the first person he came to after a fight with his dad. The first person he opened up to about his mom, to try in front of.

You didn’t even realize it would always be you. You would always be the first person he would run to, even in a crowded room.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘

[dalliancekay]

And it is All. Aziraphale's. Fault.

NO IT FUCKING ISN'T HIS FAULT

First of all: I'm pretty sure every time we see Az and Crowley in the past, Crowley is wearing whatever is the height of fashion while Aziraphale wears things that are well made but several decades out. Meaning he is wearing them for a good while. Swapping his clothes around when they become maybe too worn, maybe too conspicuous.

Walking the clean, gas-lit avenues with Crowley and Elspeth, Aziraphale is oblivious to the privilege he has in this world.

Really? Was he born yesterday? He has no idea how the world works?

the angel spouts trite pontifications created by the rich to justify poverty. He genuinely believes Elspeth has more opportunities for goodness.  After all, look at Wee Morag. 

It wasn't invented by the rich. It was 'invented' or used rather by the church that got used by the rich to keep the poor in place. There is no way you can blame Aziraphale for this. All he wanted is for Elspeth not to end up in Hell. Which Crowley wanted too, after he saw how upset it made Aziraphale. That's not fucking wrong. And you can't tell me either that rich have more opportunities to do good. Or that they do so. Or that more of them go to Heaven.

The inequality in humanity? Well, Adam and Eve had nothing. We have caused all this bullshit to ourselves. Nothing to do with Aziraphale. Or Crowley.

He respects her goodness tremendously.  It proves to him his “rightness.” 

Did you mean to say, he's glad she's not heading for Hell.

And so he sabotages Elspeth’s attempt to sell the body she dug up in her attempt to support Wee Morag.  Dalrymple gets no body, Elspeth gets no money, and Aziraphale believes he’s saving her soul.

He WAS saving her soul. Remember? Heaven and Hell being real places you go to when you die in GO?

Selling stolen bodies puts good in the world.  He’s all for it now, and goes back to encourage Elspeth.  Good heavens, he’s even willing to help this time!

Maybe next time try to be a bit more condescending to someone who just learned something new. And IMMEDIATELY changed his mind about it. Plus, Crowley had no idea digging up bodies could be spun to be a good thing either. He was learning just as much as Aziraphale. But I haven't seen one single FUCKING META about how Crowley was completely disinterested in Elspeth and her life. Only in having his usual argument with Aziraphale. Until he didn't. (And as I pointed out, he wasn't right about - you have start people off equal, people did start off equal, we are just assholes)

But, as we know, it all goes wrong.  Wee Morag is shot by a grave gun, and dies of her injuries.  Elspeth steals laudanum, and plans suicide. 

In other words, everyone makes their own choices, things go badly for Wee Morag. Maybe re-watch the ep and see how Elspeth doesn't blame Aziraphale (or Crowley) for what happened. So why do you?

Crowley drinks the laudanum, saves her in a compassionate Scottish frenzy, and is stolen away by hell because of his kindness.  

Is he? Or is he taken cos he sent two guards directly down to Hell, alerting them?

And it is All. Aziraphale's. Fault.

(I deleted what I wrote here)

He considers all of the money he casually spends on fine clothing and expensive tailoring.  He wonders how many lives could change if that money was better spent on helping to relieve the poverty that surrounds him. 

There's absolutely NOTHING in canon to support this. We can HC whatever we want sure, I for example think that Az wears things, as I said above, that are stylish but always out of fashion because it takes him time to find the right things and then he wears them for decades and decades. Because that's what is suggested by the canon, by the care he puts into his clothes and how well loved they are. The fact that 'male' fashion got less flamboyant down the centuries was not Aziraphale's decision. I for example HC too that Azi, when building his bookshop, and using his own, earned money as you rightly say, was spending miracles on making sure his workers didn't injure themselves, that he spent miracles looking after the street urchins in the very poor neighbourhood he has chosen to settle in (as opposite to say Mayfair). And that when Gabriel told him off for using too many 'frivolous miracles' in 1792 he got mad and decided to go to Paris like the stupid angel he apparently is and get, say, ravished by his enemy who would surely find him helpless and not able to save himself in a prison.

What would Crowley do, if he were free to be kind? And so Aziraphale changes.

Yes, because Aziraphale is an asshole who cares about nobody, and nothing, right?

the angel who took too long justifying a life-saving miracle for Wee Morag

Because he's NOT ALLOWED TO INTERVENE.

who hesitated to give Elspeth his 90 Guineas

Do you think he should have just worked and worked and give all his money to poor people? Is that the answer to all the world's problems? Making Aziraphale poor?

willingly and freely gave Maggie forgiveness for thousands of pounds of debt

Why wouldn't he. It's his property and I am sure he lends it to Maggie for significantly less than anyone else would have. Definitely less than those 'gentlemen' in the book who come and try to persuade the angel from time to time to sell his bookshop.

I'd love to know what else he's done over the last 180+ years!

He's been the kind, big hearted angel he always was. Looking after his shop, his tenants and anyone else who he could. Saving babies in prams and making sure shady men never came back. Looking out for Crowley, trying to keep him out of trouble, worrying about him, keeping an eye out to see if he's not doing something reckless. Finding out the demon wants to rob a church, handing him the one thing that could take him away forever with the heaviest of hearts. While of course, Crowley was doing the same thing. Not giving in to Aziraphale's princess act in the Bastille because he knew it would not ultimately end well for them. Understanding when Aziraphale said no to a date in 1967, not surprised since he remembered well what happened in 1941 when they were seen together.

*** YES if Aziraphale did absolutely nothing on the graveyard, Wee Morag would have probably lived a bit longer. How much longer though... and they would very likely end up in Hell, because they would have had to do much more crime down the road. Maybe even get hanged for graverobbing. Also see: Aziraphale just wanted to help. Did you never make a mistake??? He didn't mean to hurt anyone. If he did nothing, he'd never have learned yet another way the world is complicated and not black and white. Crowley was going to do nothing at all, just have a laugh at someone robbing a grave. No one cares. He's a demon. He stopped Elspeth from killing herself and everyone applauds, yes, it is super kind of him, and dangerous for him too, but it is the right thing to do. He didn't want her to go to Hell either.

The people who think they would have figured everything out before any events happened at all...well, good luck in your life.

And people who think Az should have done nothing - okay then. Let's just all do nothing at all, hoping we avoid all the bad things. Also: Changing the world is not done via charity but via changing the society, creating better welfare systems, housing, medical care, education. Those are things one lone angel (and his husband) can't do. And it's not their place anyway. I have like 5 pounds in my bank account (I hope) and yet I am not blaming someone well-off for that. It's the systems that are failing us. Much like the systems failed Aziraphale and Crowley. Putting two wonderful beings through so much pain because - that's how it is done.

And as I have said a million times before, Aziraphale is not learning some morality lesson in GO (HE IS A WONDERFUL, GOOD, KIND, GENEROUS, BRAVE BEING ALREADY), he doesn't need to get off his high horse, he doesn't need to finally 'see things clearly'. He knows how fucked the system he lives in is. He's just trying to help. Even Crowley says (in the book) that Heaven is the better option over Hell. However fucked it is.

Aziraphale learns from Crowley that he can question things, yes. But not in some, oh he's so blind and stuck and deep in some dogma bullshit. NO. He was always told things will happen a certain way. That Earth gets 6000 years tops. That God Herself made a Plan. It may be Ineffable, but it is a Plan.

I'm sorry, if you think you are far smarter than this and you would have figured out that God is telling porkies, good for you, I'm glad such intellects exists.

Because Crowley also didn't know the Plan could be changed until the end of S1. Yes he asked Az to try stop Armageddon but I don't think he really believed they could. He just wanted to give it a go. Cos - well what did he have to lose?

And they did change it. They held Adam's hands and they told him to be himself and when Gabe and Beez wanted to go ahead anyway Az confused them by asking about which Plan said what. So yes, he learns to question things. And he learned that from Crowley. And Crowley? Who was abandoned by the one Being who was always supposed to love him? Well. Crowley looks into those blue eyes and trusts.

The Night That Changed an Angel (or, why does Aziraphale still wear that shabby vest?)

Mini-Meta Musing (#4)

I've been brooding for a long time about, of all things, Aziraphale's worn velvet vest and the long cream jacket he's kept in "tip top condition for over 180 years now." I love the sweet familiarity, but this is the same angel who popped across the Channel and almost lost his fluffy-topped head in 1793 for dressing like an aristocrat.

"I have standards!"

He's the height of elegance, extravagance even. A dandy. We've seen the same at the Globe Theater 1601, Edinburgh 1827, and even as a Knight of the Round Table in 527 Essex, where he's wearing a glorious pelt across his shoulders! However, sometime after Edinburgh 1827, Aziraphale's stylish extravagance ends. He adopts the dress of distinguished but modest gentility. No seamstresses strain their eyes for days hand stitching ruffles and trims for him any longer. When we next see him in 1862, his clothing is refined, simple, and serviceable. It becomes his uniform, with only minor replacements. Why? What happened to change him?

Edinburgh 1827 happened. And his encounter with tragedy ran over his sensibilities like a locomotive.

Aziraphale had, we were told, saved his earnings over time and had bought land, invested wisely, and became quite well off. He used real money, not miracles, to build the bookshop, paying the builders well and taking care of bills honestly. He built himself up to a more than comfortable lifestyle, from nearly nothing. And his clothes are real, not miracled from nothingness like Crowley's. (source: original showrunner)

Aziraphale's wealth allows him to afford luxurious tailoring and fancy shoes and ruffles and trims. He'll certainly pay the cobblers and tailors and seamstresses well for their labors. It will be a substantial expense for the era. (The linked post gives a wonderful perspective on 1793 lifestyles and costs.)

https://agoodflyting.tumblr.com/post/753227014283083776/why-aziraphales-white-satin-pumps-are-ridiculous

The angel's Edinburgh multilayered and trimmed top coat, soft leather gloves, matching scarf, jacquard vest, silk cravat, etc., look entirely out of place in the back alleys where the poor huddle. Walking the clean, gas-lit avenues with Crowley and Elspeth, Aziraphale is oblivious to the privilege he has in this world.

As he strolls along in philosophical banter with Crowley about the "blessing" of poverty, the angel spouts trite pontifications created by the rich to justify poverty. He genuinely believes Elspeth has more opportunities for goodness.  After all, look at Wee Morag.  He respects her goodness tremendously.  It proves to him his “rightness.”  And so he sabotages Elspeth’s attempt to sell the body she dug up in her attempt to support Wee Morag.  Dalrymple gets no body, Elspeth gets no money, and Aziraphale believes he’s saving her soul.

It’s a poignant moment, though, when Aziraphale cradles the jar containing a tumor from a seven year old child who died because there wasn’t enough medical knowledge to save him.  Turning point number one.  It becomes Real, not a philosophical debate.  Selling stolen bodies puts good in the world.  He’s all for it now, and goes back to encourage Elspeth.  Good heavens, he’s even willing to help this time!

But, as we know, it all goes wrong.  Wee Morag is shot by a grave gun, and dies of her injuries.  Elspeth steals laudanum, and plans suicide.  Crowley drinks the laudanum, saves her in a compassionate Scottish frenzy, and is stolen away by hell because of his kindness.   And it is All. Aziriphale’s. Fault.

Turning point number two.  Another watershed moment where Aziraphale’s world changes again.

One of Crowley’s last earthly acts, before getting plunged into hell, is to have Aziraphale give Elspeth all of his pocket money.  What is pocket money to the angel is a fortune to her, one that can set her up for a better life.  I have no doubt that in the aftermath of the traumas of that night, missing and worrying about Crowley, Aziraphale thinks about all of this.  He considers all of the money he casually spends on fine clothing and expensive tailoring.  He wonders how many lives could change if that money was better spent on helping to relieve the poverty that surrounds him.  He wants to help, and to try to make amends for the harm he caused.  What would Crowley do, if he were free to be kind? And so Aziraphale changes.

I’d love to know the story of how it all played out.  Did he sell his fine clothing and donate the proceeds?  Did he become involved in charitable foundations?  Did he buy the clothing of a simple gentleman and decide to preserve it, however worn it became, as a reminder to himself of his past blindness and vanity?  We see in Season 1 how important it is to him to preserve that coat. (Sure, it's also a fantastic opportunity to flirt and flutter those angelic eyelashes... But, nonetheless!)

By Season 2, the angel who took too long justifying a life-saving miracle for Wee Morag, and who hesitated to give Elspeth his 90 Guineas, willingly and freely gave Maggie forgiveness for thousands of pounds of debt. I'd love to know what else he's done over the last 180+ years!

Whatever happened, it began that night in a graveyard.

[felassan]

David Gaider on Zevran, under a cut for length:

"I was going to skip over Zevran, honestly, as I felt like I didn't have a lot to tell in the way of stories about him... but I know he still has some (ardent) fans. Plus, on reflection, I thought maybe I DO have a few things to say. 😅 Sooo we'll see how this goes. Zevran came along much later in the DAO process, as we were trying to round out the cast of party members. Alistair and Morrigan were well underway (as "main" characters, they were concepted very early) and I'd just started to consider who our Rogue followers might be when... things changed, a bit. See, BioWare had released a game not long beforehand called Jade Empire. It had included some same-sex options in its romances - not obscured like the way Juhani's "romance" had been hinted at in KotOR, but explicit. To this day, I have no idea who on the Jade Empire team was behind it, or why. More to the point, the same-sex options had received a lot of attention and praise - almost universal praise, in fact. In 2005, everyone was just pleasantly surprised. And I don't recall if I went to James and asked about it or if he came to me to suggest DAO should include it. The latter, I think."

"You might ask "Aren't you gay, Dave? Weren't you already pushing for this?" And the answer to that is, emphatically, "no, not at all". It might seem odd looking through the lens of 2024, but there was no talk of 'representation' or 'diversity'. Not at any level where we were aware of it, anyhow. Today, fans argue about how MUCH representation to include and whether it's done well enough... the idea that, less than twenty years ago, it being included *at all* was very much in doubt feels so far away. But, back then, I'd always assumed my private life and my work in games would never meet. So I think it was James who brought it up, because I remember being startled. Pleasantly so, of course. Now I had to look at our two rogues and figure out how this would apply. I sketched out the female of the two (who was taken on by Sheryl Chee) and then looked at the male - he who became Zevran. I'd been reading about the CIA and one thing that stuck with me was how they'd (allegedly) recruit gay men as assassins because they rarely had familial ties. Zevran wasn't going to be gay (bisexuality wasn't a question of representation, but a cost-benefit compromise) but that was the inspiration."

"Then there was the question of how "flamboyantly" I was writing this character, whether that might be too stereotypical? I don't remember how it arose, but I had too many "flamboyant" friends to do anything other than double down. This character was gonna be Zorro the goddamn Gay Blade, that's what. So that's how Zevran happened. Fun, a bit nihilistic, maybe a bit too overtly flirty for today's audience but very confidently *sexual*. Everything I'm not, so I'll admit it was an interesting exploration to dig down and find that voice somewhere inside. He was the anti-Alistair, and I needed that. Casting him was difficult. Caroline always tried to go for authentic accents, when we could, but for some reason this was getting us nowhere. I think back, and I suspect it's because I hadn't yet learned the lesson to not use terms in casting descriptions I thought were universal... but were not. What do I mean by that? Well, there was one write-up that said "drow elf". Now, I know what a drow elf is. It wasn't even important to the description, but the director saw the word "elf", and you know what we got back? A Keebler elf. Like a leprachaun, high and sweet and cutsie. Can you imagine?"

"In this case, I think it was the use of the word "assassin". Combine that with the sorts of roles many Hispanic actors in LA probably are asked to play, and all the auditions we were getting were 150% dark, mean, and gritty. 🫠 So we widened the casting call a bit, and this led us to Jon Curry. I knew Jon wasn't Hispanic, but what I wasn't prepared for when I flew down to meet the DAO actors was that he's this extremely tall, extremely Nordic looking dude who just happened to do the most amazing Antonio Banderas impression. Watching THAT man channel Zevran was... more than a bit surreal. 😅 And he had fun with it. As soon as we gave him the go ahead to play the fun and flirtiness to the hilt, that's exactly what he did. Over the few days where we found Zevran's voice, it totally supplied me with something I could hold in my head when I went back to Edmonton and finished writing him. Zevran was funny enough that the fans liked him. The only part of the reception I thought odd was the occasional comment by a male player who felt "tricked" into having sex with Zevran. "You mean... that part where he invites you to his tent for a sensual massage?" "Yes! I was expecting a massage!" "He literally says the massage is sensual." "Well he wasn't clear enough!" This is where I first came to the conclusion that a certain number of our players just don't know how to people. And that maybe an adjustment to the way we approached the messaging (or massaging lol) of romance was in order. If I could go back, would I change anything? Maybe I'd remind the systems team Zevran should really be able to pick a lock. And maybe not allow him to die. We had no idea we'd need to import these choices into the future - we kinda thought DAO was "one and done". Not so much, as it turned out. 😁"

[source thread]

David Gaider: "there's something to be said about how Zevran flirted and even had sex with you because he thought that's all he had to offer... not just you, but anyone. And when he realized you wanted something deeper, suddenly he was on unsteady ground and it truly unsettled him. It was fun to explore." [source]

User: "So David - besides loving the fact that the third image you picked is a gay sex scene - what happened in DA2(DAE - come on) with Zevrans design?" David Gaider: "Check the ALT text. It wasn’t a custom sculpt, so that’s as close as they could get it. Which… was not close." [source]

User: "Just to make sure I fully understand: the director (was it the voice director?) saw the word "elf" and thought you were looking for someone high, sweet, and cutesie?" David Gaider: "Yeah, this was from back before we managed VO in-house. The voice director in this case just didn’t have an association with “elf” like some familiar with fantasy would." [source]

[jinxedbychaos]

vi x reader, where in childhood they were somewhat involved with each other . Like you can tell the love is there but they have yet to realize it themselves. And when they went to save vander, reader got hit in the head and loses their memory. And Vi is put in prison.

then Vi gets out, and they find each other. And Vi hugs reader and goes on a good “i missed you, there wasn’t a day i haven’t though about you” spiel, and reader just doesn’t know how to feel about it. Because in their mind this is just some stranger. But at the same time they feel like they know and care deeply about this stranger.

Forgotten

Vi x reader

Word count: 1,275

Warnings: some mentioned deaths (that's all I think.)

This is the first ever request I've ever done so I hope I meet the expectations of the person who send this request.

You and Vi grew up together in the the lanes. life wasn't easy, but you had each other, and that made it bearable. she'd always mess with you, messing with your hair, ruffling it playfully whenever she got the chance. You'd pretend to be annoyed, swatting her hand away with a huff, but secretly, you liked it. It made you feel warm inside.

After her fights, you'd sit her down and patch up her scraped knuckles, muttering about how reckless she was, She'd grin at you, acting like it didn't hurt, but you always knew better. You could see through her tough exterior, and she could see right through yours. Neither of you ever said what you felt, but it was there, in lingering glances, unspoken gestures, and the way your hearts seemed to beat in sync.

Then everything changed.

It happened when Silco made his move. Watching Benzo-your father figure, the man who had taken you in when you had no one else, fall dead right in front of you helpless to stop it, shattered you. The thought of Vander meeting the same fate was unbearable. And the idea of Vi having to endure the pain of losing him, too, was more than you can handle. You couldn't let that happen.

So when vi decided to go after him, you went too. You stayed by her side as the others followed, determined to save Vander.

You were right beside her when the explosion went off. The force of it knocked you off your feet, and pain seared through your entire body like fire. The last thing you saw before the world went dark was her pink hair splayed on the ground unmoving.

When you woke up, everything was gone. Vander. Claggor. Mylo. Vi. Even your memories.

All that remained were fragments, hazy feelings of warmth and safety tied to a face you couldn't quite place.

Years later-

Life without your memories felt hollow. The Lanes still felt familiar in a way you couldn't explain, like a melody you couldn't recall but keep humming anyway. you did whatever you had to do to survive, jobs you weren't proud of, choices you tried not to think about. You pieced together a new life, but no matter how hard you tried, it always felt incomplete.

And then she appeared.

You were carrying a crate of scavenged parts through the bustling streets, just trying to make it another day, when someone stepped in front of you, blocking your path.

"Hey" You began, irritation flaring. But when your gaze meet hers, the words died in your throat, she looked familiar.

The girl, no, woman stood frozen, her pink hair catching the dim light. Her wide eyes, a mix of disbelief and something far deeper, softened as they locked onto you.

"Y/N…" She breathed, her voice cracking.

The name sounded foreign to you, yet it struck something deep inside, a string you hadn't realized was there. Before you could react, she rushed towards you and wrapped her arms around you. The crate in your hands fell to the ground with a loud clatter, its contents scattering everywhere.

Her hold was tight, desperate, as if she were afraid you might disappear. "Gods" She whispered, her voice trembling "I missed you so much. There wasn't a day I didn't think about you. I-I thought you were dead after the explosion."

Her words pierced the fog in your mind, stirring emotions you couldn't explain. Images flickered in your head. flashes of pink hair, laughter, a hand reaching for yours in the dark. You didn't know her, not really. And yet…

The way her voice trembled, the way she held you like you were her lifeline. It felt familiar. Like home.

"I…" your voice wavered as you pulled back, stepping out of her embrace. The confusion and overwhelming emotions made it hard to think. "Y-you know me?" You swallowed hard, shaking your head, "I don't… I don't remember. I don't remember you"

Her expression faltered, the pain flickering across her face like a fleeting shadow. She took a shaky breath, forcing a small, fragile smile. "That's alright" she murmured, her voice trembling but steady enough to hide the heartbreak beneath it "We'll figure it out together. I'm not letting you go this time."

The days that followed were a whirlwind of emotions. Vi tried to reconnect with you, sharing stories of your childhood together, each one laced with hope that might ignite a spark of recognition. sometimes, fragments of those memories felt familiar, like shadows of something long lost. But just as quickly, they slipped away, leaving you more confused than before. How could someone care so deeply for you when you couldn't even remember who they were?

And yet, there were moments. Her laugh carried warmth that tugged at something buried deep within you. the way she said your name felt like home, even if you didn't understand why. The fire in her eyes when she talked about protecting you stirred something unspoken, something that felt like it had always been a part of you.

Despite the confusion, you couldn't help but feel drawn to her. Maybe it was the tenderness in her gaze, or the way your heart raced whenever she smiled. or perhaps it was something deeper. Something you couldn't name but felt in every fiber of your being, like a truth just out of reach.

one night, sitting on the rooftop, the hum of the lanes below was a distant murmur in the silence between you. You sat side by side with Vi, the weight of unspoken thoughts in the cool night air.

"Vi…" you began, your voice quiet as you stared out at the city "I-I don't know if I'll ever remember everything. I don't know if I can be the person you remember" You hesitated, your fingers twisting together nervously "But I want to try. I want to be that person for you"

Vi turned to you, her gaze soft but unwavering, her expression a mixture of hope and understanding. "you don't have to be anyone but who you are now" she said gently, her voice steady "I just… I just want to be here with you"

Her words stuck something deep within you, cutting through your uncertainty. for a moment, you were overwhelmed by how much this woman. this stranger who somehow felt like home. Had given herself to find you again.

"Vi…" you murmured, your voice trailing off as her eyes locked with yours. The space between you seemed to shrink, the weight of everything unsaid hanging heavy in the air.

slowly, tentatively, you leaned toward her, your heart pounding in your chest. She met you halfway, her lips warm and soft against yours. Her kiss was gentle yet filled with a quiet desperation, as though she had been holding back for years, waiting for this moment.

It wasn't just a kiss. It was a connection. A fragile bridge between the fractured pieces of your past and the uncertain promise of your future.

When you pulled back, your foreheads rested together, your breaths mingling as you both tried to steady yourselves. Vi smiled, her voice soft and teasing, though her eyes glistened with emotion "I've waited a long time for that, you know"

you couldn't help but smile back, a warmth blooming in your chest that chased away the lingering doubts "I think… maybe I've been waiting too. I just don't realize it"

in that moment, the weight of the past seemed lighter. What mattered wasn't what had been lost but the connection you were building now. one step, one moment at a time, together.

✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪

Hope you enjoyed reading :] don't forget to like.

I'm still working on some requests that should be out soon enough, if you want you can leave a request.

[adieutristana]

comforting reader scenarios; arcane women x fem! reader

finally home and spending time with family for the first time in a while. i started writing this while still at my dorm though, and wanted to finish it <3 i’ll get to my requests once break is over!

summary: scenarios of arcane women comforting their girlfriend.

characters included: jinx, vi, mel, sevika, caitlyn.

tags/warnings: mentions of anxiety and panic attacks, insecurity, nightmares (mel), smoking (sevika), crying, fluff, hurt/comfort

men dni.

jinx;

hosting at the last drop during a holiday weekend was no easy task, you knew that. but still, you needed extra hours. you needed extra money. so you picked up the shifts.

which you were now regretting more than you had any decision in a while. you wished that you could rewind time, and slap your past self across the face. tell her to put her sanity over a few more hours of pay.

you had just seated your final reservation of the night, and as soon as you got back to the host stand, your hands scrambled to untie your apron and slam it down on the desk. you couldn’t even be bothered to hang it up on its hook. you were overstimulated, stressed, burnt-out. you were exhausted.

your coworker grimaced seeing you, but was evidently concerned. “you gonna be okay getting home?” they asked, a hand on their hip. “i can give you a ride.”

“no, it’s fine. i’ll find my way.” you grumbled, grabbing the last of your belongings before swinging the door open. you knew exactly where you were headed: jinx’s hideout. you turned on your heel, keeping your head down as you sped through the bumpy streets of zaun. your destination wasn’t far, but the way in which your hands were trembling and you couldn’t focus your vision, you didn’t want to face the risk of any more human interaction.

you reached jinx’s hideout after about ten minutes of walking, and stepped in quietly. you saw blue braids, your girlfriend’s back facing you as she tinkered with what was presumably a new explosive device. typical jinx. she turned around in her chair as soon as the sound of your arrival registered, and she ran to give you a tight hug.

“how was work, toots?” she asked, her dark lips curled in a smile. “i missed ya, y’know.” she chimed, her arms still holding you close to her. you sighed and released the day’s worth of tension from your body, finally feeling safe enough to do so.

“it was hell. honest.” you began, before you felt a full tirade coming on. “i mean- i got yelled at for the simplest things. not having a table for a party of thirteen, having to consult with my manager for something, anything and everything. it’s… it’s like i couldn’t do anything right today.” you spoke, your voice faltering. you felt tears welling in your eyes, and you felt jinx’s grasp around you grow tighter.

“(y/n). hey. it’s okay.” jinx replied, her voice softer than most times. one arm stayed in place, and her other hand came up to gently cradle your cheek. “customers are awful. they always are. but you’re a damn good hostess, and you were doing your best! it’s just one of those weekends. they feel like they can do or say whatever they want…” jinx trailed off with a slight scowl in her voice. you knew that jinx was never particularly the best with choosing soothing words for you, but her odd and sometimes aggressive way of reassuring you did work.

your girlfriend softly grasped your shoulders to sit you down, then opted to grab one of your hands. her slender, calloused fingers slotting themselves between your own. she offered her shoulder wordlessly for you to lay your head on, which you accepted. you let out a sharp exhale through your nose. a single tear fell.

“i shouldn’t have taken those shifts. holiday weekend, back to back.” you scoffed. “money be damned. i’m never interacting with the public again.”

“no problem with that.” jinx remarked, trying to lighten the mood a little. her free hand came up to run over your side, up and down, up and down, gently and repeatedly. an oddly soothing pattern. “you could just stay here with me forever, y’know.”

you gave a soft chuckle in reply. “yeah. that’d be nice. you and me, not needing anything else.”

vi;

tonight was just one of those nights. you were getting better, you thought. you had been consistently seeing a therapist and airing out every little ugly detail about your life, your past, yourself to a complete stranger. and it was helping. you had a girlfriend who adored you, body and soul. who would do absolutely anything in her power just to see a hint of a smile on your face.

but right now, with your hair clutched in your hands and hot tears streaming down your face, your heart beating in your chest at record speed, you couldn't think about any one thing.

there was no rhyme or reason, you just felt horrible. about yourself, about your life, about everything. it was as if all of that progress you had worked so hard for was completely undone. dull and noid. you swore you could feel yourself dropping deeper and deeper, your shallow breaths growing quicker, until you heard the door of your apartment swing open.

"hey, babe, sorry i'm late, i got held u-" vi stopped dead in her tracks in front of you, taking in your state for a split second before her expression turned to one of unease. "oh, my god- (y/n), what happened? come on, talk to me." she breathed out, calloused, bandaged hands coming to grasp at your shoulders.

your girlfriend’s grip did ground you slightly, but you still couldn’t get a word out. you could only focus on trying to breathe; in, out, in through your nose, out through your mouth. vi’s worried expression didn’t falter, but her hold on you did loosen as she noticed your breathing grow more steady.

vi now sat next to you and swung an arm around your shoulder, pulling you in close to your side. she brushed a stray lock of hair out of your face, and tried to soothe you in the most gentle tone possible. “hey. hey, now. it’s okay. i’m here. i’m not goin’ anywhere, ya hear?” she whispered. “tell me what’s wrong.”

you just gulped, and hastily reached up to swipe away the tears on your cheeks. “nothing… nothing happened.” you said, voice still shaky. your gaze was downcast, focusing on some odd stain on the carpet. “i just feel so hopeless.” you blurted out. you just didn’t know how else to phrase it.

“i’ve done so much, gone to so many appointments and faced myself in the mirror. faced my flaws, my past, i’ve done some rough work.” you explained. “but i feel like it’s all for nothing. if i’ve gone and done all of that, why do i feel like complete shit right now?” you muttered under your breath. your shoulders were tensing back up, and more tears pricked at your eyes, threatening to fall at the next minute.

the girl next to you took your chin with her forefinger and thumb, gently guiding your gaze to meet her own. “(y/n), look at me.” she said.

you looked at her, eyes shaky and unsure.

“you don’t feel like this every day, do ya?” she asked. “i… no. i don’t.” you replied.

“there you go, then. no amount of therapy or coping or self-analysis is gonna take away the fact that some days just fucking suck.” vi’s arm was still draped around you, holding you in close to her and now slightly rocking you.

“you’ve got problems. we all do. they’re not just gonna go away overnight, some of them probably won’t ever. but ya have to keep trying, right?” she asked, prompting you to slowly nod. you sniffled, and whispered, “it just feels so pointless.”

“i know it does, but it isn’t. you know you haven’t done all of that for nothing. one shitty moment doesn’t erase all the hard work you’ve put in.” vi affirmed. she accentuated her words with a gentle, lingering kiss to your forehead. “you’re one of the strongest people i know.”

you finally let yourself go and lay your head on her shoulder, wordlessly accepting your girlfriend’s comfort. her grip around you only tightened, and while you couldn’t see her, you knew her well enough to know by now that she was smiling at the sight of you.

mel;

mel loved sharing a bed with you. it was so peaceful, so intimate in a way. you had her in your arms facing you, her head buried in the crook of your neck taking deep, relaxed breaths.

until you shot up from your slumber with a sharp gasp after having a nightmare. enforcers. your family. you hadn’t done anything, and neither had your family, but there the enforcers were in that dream, taking them from you. ignoring your choked sobs and loud pleas to just let them go.

it was probably a side effect of growing up in the undercity, and witnessing that exact scenario more times than you could keep track of. even though it wasn’t real, it still horrified you.

you tried to steady your breathing as to not wake the woman next to you, still deep asleep. but the second you saw her begin to stir, you knew you were in trouble. mel did not take kindly to her sleep being disturbed.

she sat up slowly, looking around and one hand coming to rub at her eyes, then her eyes met yours. there’s no malice or annoyance in her gaze, only concern. “…what has you up this late?”

“just a nightmare, mel. don’t worry about it.” you sighed, voice dropping and trying to convince her to just go back to sleep. it wasn’t until you felt a familiar pair of arms wrap around you, though, and pull you close to mel’s chest that you realized she wasn’t planning on letting this go.

“no, talk to me.” mel demands, although sleep is still evident in her voice. now it’s obvious that she isn’t going to let this go, and although you feel guilty for disturbing her rest, you’re grateful that she’s not angry with you.

you let out a deep breath, and begin twiddling with your thumbs to keep your racing mind at bay. mel still has you held close to her, one hand cradling the back of your head. “it was about my family. i had a nightmare that enforcers… took them. threw them in jail without a trial. even though they’ve done nothing wrong.”

having been brought up in zaun, this was a fate that was unfortunately not uncommon. a slim possibility for you, one of the more ‘respected’ families of the undercity, but the chances were never zero. you were unsure as to why you were suddenly having nightmares about this, though.

silence hung in the air for a moment, the only sounds in the room being your girlfriend’s slow breathing and rain pattering against the windows. “…that won’t happen, love. i wish i could tell you that our enforcers are a just group of people, but they are not. but you know all i am doing to try and fix this… your family is safe. i can promise you that.”

mel’s words were genuine, but in reality, there was only so much comfort she could offer. piltover as a city was corrupt; there was no denying that. but at the very least, you could rest assured that she was trying. mel cared- not just because they were your family, but because she had a heart. that’s more than you could say for some of the other council members.

you reached to intertwine your fingers with hers, and let your eyes slowly slip shut again. “you’re safe with me, darling. a nightmare is just that; a nightmare.” mel whispered, her voice like honey, sweet and smooth. “let’s get you back to sleep. i’ll be here all night.” she pressed a final lingering kiss to your temple, before you fell back into a deep slumber.

sevika;

being one of silco’s henchmen, it wasn’t uncommon for you to arrive home with an array of injuries. bruises, scrapes, cuts, sometimes even stab wounds if it was particularly bad. most of the time, you couldn’t place exactly where each injury had come from, only that it hurt like hell. but you were used to it by now, and working for silco both paid well and earned you protection. so you couldn’t exactly complain.

this time, though, you weren’t only hurt, you were exhausted. you were honestly considering marching (albeit weakly) to silco’s office and telling him you’re resigning, effective immediately. your legs felt like they were going to fall off. you undoubtedly had a few bruised ribs and had suffered more severe injuries than ever before. thankfully, nothing seemed to be broken, but there was only so much you could take.

you swung the door to your shared apartment open, seeing sevika already sat down. you slumped into the beat-up couch next to your girlfriend, letting out a loud and exasperated sigh. what to do? you had lazily patched yourself up, but you were still in considerable pain. you looked around the room, scanning all of your belongings from years of working for the eye of zaun. could it all have been for nothing? all of your hard work- was zaun, was silco going to chew you up and spit you out?

“(y/n)? took ya a while to get back. everything fine?” sevika asked. she swung one leg over the other and took out a cigar, grabbing her box of matches from a side table. you tried to muster up the most chipper tone of voice possible, and replied, “yep, i just got a bit held up on the way back. all is well.” you even tried to cement it by giving her the best smile you could manage.

sevika gave you one of her knowing side-glances, an eyebrow raised as she lit her cigar. “spit it out.”

god damn it.

if there was one thing your girlfriend was, it was observant. she knew your mannerisms, your habits and your demeanor well enough to know when something was wrong. honestly, sometimes, you thought sevika might know you better than you know yourself.

“sev, it’s nothing, really. don’t worry about me.” you tried to reassure her, a smile cemented on your face to really sell it. yet she still saw right through you. “(y/n), somethin’s up. i can tell. come on, dove, you can talk to me.”

you weighed your options for a minute. you were scared, if you were being honest with yourself. you knew that sevika was frighteningly loyal to silco, and saying that you were thinking of leaving could anger her. maybe provoke her in some way. but another thing you knew about your girlfriend was that once she started something, she wasn’t going to let go of it until it was resolved.

“i got beat up. badly, worse than i ever have… i don’t know if i have it in me to keep doing this, sevika.” you muttered. oh, god, your voice was shaking. “everything hurts. i’m exhausted. i’ve seen so much, and i don’t know if i’m strong enough.”

sevika sat in contemplation for a moment- a moment that felt like hours. she took a long drag of her cigar, exhaling as she talked. “that comes with the job, darlin’.” you felt your heart drop into your stomach. sevika was right. now you seemed like a traitor to silco and weak. “but, we all have our limits. you’ve done all you can, and you’ve done a damn good job at it. now, i’m not gonna tell you that you should leave, because i don’t want you to. i’m selfish like that.” your girlfriend chuckled.

you let her words sink in. you swung your legs around to be on top of her lap, laying your head down on the arm of your couch. sevika brought an arm up to rest her hand on one of your thighs, gently squeezing in reassurance. “do what you think will be best, okay? i’ll still be here. always will.” she smiled. “but… what about silco?” you muttered.

sevika barked out a laugh at that, which slightly startled you. your eyes blown wide and your form jumping. “silco’ll be fine. he has his other people… like me.” she said. sevika gently pulled you to sit your entire body in her lap, and pressed a soft kiss to your temple. “i’ll be here, regardless.” she looked at one of the half-assed bandages on your ankle, blood seeping through. “let’s get ya properly patched up, okay?”

caitlyn;

you sat in one of the many libraries on academy grounds, countless papers sprawled out in front of you on a desk. all of the words and countless problems needing solving had lost all meaning. your final exams were exactly a week from today, but your head was fuzzy. you couldn’t process anything. none of the study methods you were using stuck.

“shit.” you muttered to yourself, grasping your head in your hands against the desk. you lifted your head up to take in your surroundings: countless other students at tables, some in groups and some by themselves. what they all had in common was that they all seemed to be getting something done. that was a lot more than you could say for yourself.

you groaned out loud, disregarding the fact that others would absolutely hear over the loud silence of the facility. you gathered your papers, stacking them the neatest you could before shoving them in your messenger bag. you pulled out your chair, not bothering to push it back in, and turned on your heel to exit the library. god damn it.

you hastily made your way to your apartment, trying to keep your chin up as you passed other students of the district. you couldn’t let yourself crack. you couldn’t let on that anything was wrong. as you inserted your key into the lock of your apartment and turned the doorknob, the smell of dinner immediately hit you. was caitlyn… cooking?

“i’m home!” you called out, trying to search for caitlyn in the kitchen. you spotted her tall figure, her back turned to you and arms busy. you hung your bag up on a hook, and sat down on the living room couch with a dramatic huff. caitlyn turned her head to look at you for a moment, abandoning whatever she was busy stirring to come sit next to you.

when you looked over to see your girlfriend, you jumped the slightest bit. her footsteps were so quiet, it was startling at times. you never knew exactly where she learned how to do that.

“how was studying?” she asked, reaching to twirl a strand of your hair around her index finger. you sucked your breath in, and hung your head low in defeat. “well… i didn’t exactly get much done.” you murmured.

“i didn’t get anything done, actually.” you corrected yourself, voice a bit more clear this time. “i’ve got this… this mental block right now. i don’t know what it even is. i feel like every time i look at a piece of material to study, my mind just goes blank. whoosh, like i haven’t been studying this shit for months in class.” your hands were clutching your pants, trying to find any type of temporary relief. you were so utterly disappointed in yourself.

“what now, then?” your girlfriend asked, still absentmindedly playing with your hair. the smell of what you could now identify as some kind of pasta filled the room. “what do you mean, ‘what now?’” you asked. it wasn’t a quip, but a genuine question. as much as you loved caitlyn, she could be confusing from time to time.

“i mean, what are you going to do now? sulk? rest?” she clarified, her blue eyes gazing directly at- or through you. it wasn’t meant to be intimidating, but caitlyn had that effect. you took your hands off your lap and crossed your arms over your chest, gaze still downcast. “i don’t know. i’ll try again tomorrow, but right now, i don’t know.”

caitlyn moved her hand to gently tap your jaw, signaling that she wanted you to look at her. you obliged, her eyes still piercing- but a bit softer now. “do you know how many days like that i had as a girl, sat with my instructor? completely clueless as to how to solve the problem in front of me?” she asked, her tone soft and the slightest bit playful. she scoffed as she recalled the memory.

“that’s part of the reason i decided not to attend the academy. of course, i had expectations to live up to, which played a major factor in my decision. but student life hasn’t ever been for me.” caitlyn said, settling her hands down and opting to rest her head on your shoulder. navy strands lightly tickled your neck.

“what you do is admirable, dearest. one odd day doesn’t make that less true.” she smiled. “you’re still such a hard-working, smart person.. you just need to rest.” she accentuated her statement by pressing her lips to your cheek, ever so gently. fleeting.

you gently smiled at her words and leant into the kiss. you didn’t have a clue as to how she managed, but caitlyn somehow always had the right words to say. you remembered the pasta cooking, though, and gasped. “shit- cait, should you be leaving that unattended?”

your girlfriend lightly chuckled. “the sauce needed to sit for a few moments. all is well, i promise.”

[turbolezgooo]

Why ya'll hate on Cait and call her a dictator?

Well-written characters often have a story deeper than what you explicitly see them do or hear them say. Just because everything is set in a fantasy world, doesn't mean that characters are not affected by tragic events and the human condition.

First of all, Cait wasn't the one who made a police state. Ambessa and the council did that. Ambessa orchestrated the whole thing. Cait went along with it because she was turned around by grief. That shit messes with your judgment, but she was still trying to do what she and Vi agreed on. To focus on the real problem and prevent hurting innocent people.

Cait tried to control an unraveling situation AND literal warlord WHILE being inexperienced in how to deal with it, having a big ol' lesbian break up, AND dying inside.

You could see that when Cait argued to Ambessa that there are innocent people and there MUST be justifiable cause to arrest anyone. In Cait and Ambessa's interactions it's implied that Cait was getting in the way of Ambessa's agenda off-screen. She tried to keep something worse from happening because she does acknowledge the historical and current oppression of Zaunites.

This mirrors the way she offered Vi the badge to give her a voice in what happens to her sister if the enforcers caught her. The enforcers coming after Jinx was going to happen regardless of Cait. She took control by volunteering and taking precautions. See- While they did use gas, Vi would never agree to something that would permanently hurt the people of Zaun. The tactic gave them fewer chances of having to physically fight Zaunites who were just trying to defend themselves. Believe it or not, it was a controlled operation until grief got the better of Cait and things looked worse than it actually was.

The way that Cait deeply believes in equality in spite of a personal vendetta is why Ambessa sent Maddie to try and control her by 'filling' her hole (no pun intended). When Maddie attempted to have Cait stop the police state situation and withdraw, she did focus on Jinx at first but the second part of not wanting to make things worse was something she had a lot more to say about before Maddie interrupted. And Cait was right. What would have happened if she hadn't taken the role and played along? A puppet councillor or Ambessa herself would have been the figure head and do so much worse. Those people don't have the same perspective and understanding as Cait.

When Cait and Vi argue about listening to a war pig oink poison in her ear, she yells "I know!" as she throws a piece of war ship used in strategizing. You can tell her role was a strategic choice to have some control over the events that unfolded. That's why Vi didn't villinize her. Vi understood that Cait never really accepted anything Ambessa said. That's why she helped Vi at the commune. Cait was a double agent taking shit from all sides to stop worse things from happening.

She had grief and really crap options, but she always chose the lesser of the evils to try and stay true to who she really was. She even resigns in her argument with Vi, that she didn't put Jinx, her own mother's killer, in jail or punish her in any way. It's another example of her faltering in decision-making when overwhelming or unexpected things happen and it also tells us what she is. She's human. She doesn't make excuses for taking on an objectively bad role and making mistakes. When she said "We can't erase our mistakes.", she's also talking about herself. She takes responsibility and tries to do good. In the end, all she wanted was closure for her grief by having Jinx accept responsibility NOT by killing or abusing her or innocent Zaunites for that matter.

Imo there's a lot in Arcane that shows Cait as a flawed but inherently good person, and Vi absolutely knows it. They see each other warts and all. If you think CaitVi's lex scene was poorly written read this: https://www.tumblr.com/turbolezgooo/768190482340773888/bro-this-outrage-about-caitvi-relationship-in-s2?source=share

[sockatoothewafflebird]

u prolly have already but pls i want in depth yap abt caitvi in arc3 and how they heal :)

oh anon i have NOT yapped about how they heal. not in detail at least. so here we go. there's not a lot that hasn't been said about them, but i'd like to put my perspective into the ring just because. as an eldest sister and as a lesbian i can relate to vi in a lot of ways.

i think my main takeaway for caitvi in act 3 is how they're both human, in the ways they love and in the ways they fight. arcane is a show that respects its audience and trusts us to be able to read between the lines and i appreciate how you can see every little detail of the words they're not saying if you look close enough.

in The Scene especially you can see just how real theyre being... im not gonna dwell on it, but by the skin of my teeth and the bones in my knees they LOVE each other. you can see it so clearly.

caitlyn walks in on vi questioning everything she is. violet legit just let her sister slip from her fingers, again. i cannot tell you how many times i've felt guilty when my sister or brother are hurt or do something wrong, even if i had no part in it. i cannot imagine how much it would hurt to lose them and keep going only because of the possibility of finding them again, and then when i finally do find then they're ripped from my arms. and it happens more than once. i would be in the same place vi is. blaming herself for all of it. making the burden of protecting her sister all hers and no one else's. wondering whether or not she's doing the right thing at all. (cough coughh petra minecraft is that you)

as stressful as they can be sometimes they're my siblings and i'd do anytning for them. and with the kind of person vi is, for her that means punching whoever's in the way. doing whatever she can. she has a big heart and she's never lost it.

after caitlyn basically dumped her in the most entitled way possible vi had nothing left. no one to protect and nothing to fight for. so she fought just for the sake of fighting. after getting her family back and losing them again (holy ballsockets she was put through the wringer) all she had was cait even if cait hurt her. i think even if cait never did anytbing to make it up to her, she would have stayed, because vi needs an anchor.

caitlyn's hurt a lot of people directly or indirectly. she grew up priveleged and stayed that way, never truly seeing exactly how much pain people are going through until it's too late to turn back. caitlyn's arc is a very interesting one because she never says the words "i'm sorry". she never tells vi that what she did was wrong and that she wants to fix it. but she does things that prove her remorse.

caitlyn works with vi in the end of act 2. i think this is partially because she was already skeptical of ambessa from the start, and partially because she wanted to find a way to make it up to her. caitlyn doesn't fold as soon as vi calls her cupcake, that's not what the look is. The Look is her thinking, "wait, does she not hate me? why did she call me her term of endearment even after everything i've done?"

in act 3, caitlyn takes all the guards out of the prison, because she knew vi would try to rescue her sister. in the words of another post i forgot to save (deepest apologies to the op of that one), vi could have taken jinx and ran. caitlyn might have never seen her again and she let that happen anyway. and cait even went to the cell to check to see if her theory was true, and lo and behold it was. and vi failed at trying to save her sister. again.

what does caitlyn do? she tells vi that she relieved the prison of the guards because of her. all confident and sultry and commanding like she knows what she's doing.

and then when they're getting into it caitlyn frantically pulls away. she realizes that, yeah, she still needs to make things right. she tries to be honest, tell vi that she saw someone else, and vi just reassures her and keeps going. i think thisnis because 1) vi wants the cupcake, who wouldn't, and 2) she's... not exactly forgiving, that needs more work- but she's showing her appreciation for caitlyn here. caitlyn did something huge for her, she let her break a prisoner out which could have dire consequences for both of them.

i think vi just absolutely smothering cait is also a way to show that even though cait hurt her physically as well as emotionally, she's gone past that. if vi hadn't at least given some thought about cait's actions she would not let this happen, i don't think, unless she's super desperate. this proves that vi is starting to move on and cait is starting to revert back to that sputtering stuttering pinned-to-a-wall-flustered woman she was in season one- that's the woman vi fell in love with, after all... and that woman is battered and bruised and has plenty of sins to stone for. but that woman is not dead.

The Scene in the cell is both them being desperate and them showing their love for each other without words. caitlyn's hand lingers on vi's injury, maybe about to utter an apology, but vi cuts her off anyway. there's SO many little things here gaughehgjf.

and in the end of the show, when caitlyn looks into the hexgates in her family's archives, she looks because vi probably asked her to. vi wanted to be sure. she looked because she cares about vi. whether or not she'll tell vi about this is an interesting thought- i don't think she would. it would undermine jinx's sacrifice.

jinx walked away so she could move on. so piltover could move on. so zaun could move on. so vi could move on. and caitlyn telling vi that she's alive would ruin the steps they've taken towards healing.

i think vi's main problem was dedicating her life to her sister and nothing else. and caitlyn's was just her exploiting a broken system and mever recognizing her faults. vi starts to heal because now that her sister is truly gone to her, she can move away from the past and build her own future. and now that caitlyn's fully realized her mistakes she can take steps towards changing piltover for the better. GAHH i love complicated sapphics especially when there's sapphic joy after all the suffering....

this was all written in one sitting so apologies if it's messy, and i've sort of compiled some other ideas and theories i've seen in here too; but yeah, these are my thoughts on caitvi in season 2. i think they could've been fleshed out a bit more, but overall their relationship is legendary. i'll never stop loving them. caitvi supremacy people 💪

[paper-worms]

I’ve had a lot of people outside tumblr and irl talk about having a hard time discerning what fear they’d be an avatar of/ associated with. Obv I’m not Jonathan Sims but I have this way of thinking about it that I want to see if others agree with.

I personally interpret interaction with the fears as one of three categories.

1. what fears might “take” you aka like the statement-givers that all die or dissapear, often from something they’ve feared all their life but taken to the extreme.

2. which fears could become an obsession, the thing that would consume you and turn you inhuman. What is the thing that will bring out the worst possible version of you, a version of you spiraled so far down that you’d hurt other people to feed this power and fixation you can’t escape.

3. Random accidents often caused by a chance encounter with a cursed item, creature, or person/avatar. The fears certainly have the power to make you afraid of something you weren’t scared of before. I think everyone can agree that each statement describes a situation none of us would want to be in (idk unless you want to fuck a beetle go off I guess). This will always end in the fear taking you, killing you, trapping you in the backrooms whatever.

I honestly realized quickly assigning other people fears for funsies was uhh… not so funsies when the realization hits that you’d have to literally psychoanalyze them and their traumas for it, so I wouldn’t ever really tell someone exactly what fear they are. Which is also why I don’t feel comfortable fully explaining mine here either, but I can be brief for the sake of an example.

CW: very vague discussions of trauma in relation to the corruption.

I think the lonely or the spider could easily take me. Arachnophobia since I was a kid and lots of intimacy/abandonment issues. But the corruption is the fear that I think could turn me into an avatar. In the worst version of myself I see someone who instead of trying to help myself believe I’m clean, I’d accept it as truth that I’m inherently dirty and want others who validate it as a good thing.

You want to know what fear you’d be an avatar of? Look for what terrifies you so much you’d lose yourself trying to convince your mind that you enjoyed it just to not face the horrifying reality of its presence and how it affects you.

[littleslaywrites]

pas de deux- variations | spencer reid x bau!reader 

pt 3 of pas de deux - based on request by @kakamixoxo

summary: while teaching the ballet class your substituting for, spencer comes in to “help”

word count: 1.5k

cw: f!reader, fluff

Having finally put together your lesson plans, you were on your way to teach the ballet class you’d agreed to substitute for. You had left work an hour early for the fifth day, Hotch not minding giving you the time off since you were consistent otherwise. 

Driving to the studio for the past few days, you felt oddly nervous. You faced criminals every day but were anxious over some baby ballerinas. You remember being in your first years of ballet, how you looked up to your teachers and the older girls in the studio. The girls were energetic, but eager to learn. You felt yourself saddened by the fact that today would be your last day filling in. It sounded cliche, but you were going to miss the feeling of teaching the next generation of dancers. 

After changing and setting up in the studio, you open the door to let the kids pile in. Whispered conversations between each other and shouts of “good afternoon, Miss y/n” fill the room. 

A few minutes into class, you hear the door opening, Spencer’s tall frame juxtaposed against the girls at the barre. 

“It seems like we have a special guest joining us today in class,” you say. Spencer walks over to an empty space behind you. 

“I came to help,” he says. You raise an eyebrow, recalling your attempt to teach him. Nevertheless, you decide to go along with it, introducing him as “Mr. Spencer” and allowing him to stand behind you at the barre in the middle of the floor. 

“Now we’ll move on to rond de jambe,” you say. The girls have learned the combination by now, so you review it very briefly before reaching for the remote to turn the music on. Spencer watches the moves, remembering the steps but having no idea how to execute them correctly. 

Seeing everyone else grab the barre and straighten their posture, Spencer follows suit. He suddenly realizes he’s the tallest in the class, feeling a little awkward. When the music begins, he follows along to what you’re doing, until he has to turn to the other side. When he’s no longer facing you, he begins to hear giggles from the students at his creative interpretation of technique. He can tell they’re trying to be polite, not wanting to make fun of a guest. 

The music ends, and you try to move on without giving in to the laughter, knowing once you do, you won’t be able to stop. “Okay, frappé is next.” You model the steps, taking extra care to show how you go from flex to point with the ball of your foot hitting the floor, thinking of Spencer watching behind you. You can imagine the way he was staring, absorbing the information. 

Unfortunately for him, even the best memory could not make up for his lack of knowledge. Even before you turned, you could tell he was taking creative liberties from the sound of his stomps. When you face him, you see the way he’s executing the step, almost tap-dancing. You can’t hold yourself from laughing at the picture, and the girls join in. At one point, he even managed to literally trip over his own feet. Giggling through the rest of the combination, you watch as he turns to look back at you, smiling when he meets your eyes. 

“If you couldn’t tell, I haven’t ever taken a ballet class before,” Spencer shrugs after the music stops. This makes the class laugh even harder. “Miss y/n gave me a quick lesson last week,” he defends himself. “Watch—“ he says, trying to do a pirouette. His foot only makes it up to his ankle and the turn goes about 90° before he falters.  

“I don’t think Mr. Spencer is dressed right for class,” one of your students says. You study his outfit: sweater, dress pants, mismatched socks (he took his shoes off at the door), and a tie. 

“I regret to inform you that she may be correct,” you say after looking him up and down. “You know, most people wouldn’t be allowed to attend class with that kind of dress code violation.”

The girls all shake their heads and shout out their opposition to that idea. “I guess we’ll let him stay,” you sigh. “You should be grateful for your backup, Mr. Spencer. Let’s hope you're better at battements.”

It goes without saying that Spencer was not better at battements. He watched your kicks reach the tip of your nose, thinking it couldn’t be that difficult from how easy you made it look. Intently, he prepared to kick, but his foot only made it about a foot and a half off the floor. This causes the room to break back into laughter, especially considering the focus that was visible on his face. 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Spencer, but I’m beginning to think a career in ballet may not be for you,” you say. 

“The reason we can kick higher is because we’re shorter,” a student pipes up, making you raise your eyebrows. 

“I’m sure that’s it,” you reply sarcastically, sending the giggling girls outside to their five minute water break before center. 

“It’s really a good thing you’re smart, because your talent does not lie within anything physical,” you tease him. 

“Nothing physical?” he teases back.

“Oh my god, Spencer,” you snort at his innuendo. “But really, if you weren’t so cute doing ballet, it would be painful to watch.”

“You make it look easy.” You blush at his compliment, going to get your own water. He smiles at you, restraining himself from pulling you into a kiss, not wanting to embarrass you in front of your students. 

“I guess I better get back to work,” he says. 

“You’re going back?”

“I took a half hour break from my paperwork,” he admits. “I couldn’t resist seeing you dance.”

You thought your smiler couldn't get any wider, but his comment somehow does. He smiles back, savoring the joy he brings you. He loved seeing you in the studio because of how happy you were when you were dancing, even if it was a simple warm up at the barre. Similarly, his goal was always to bring the same smile to your face with his words. Every time he made you blush or giggle, he’d swear it was the most beautiful sight his eyes had ever beheld, more than any painting in a museum or poem he could read. 

Spencer always made you feel spoiled. His pilgrimage to the studio was just one example of the lengths he’d go for you. You’d scold him, but you knew it was just as much for himself as it was for you. Besides, whenever he’d sense you were going to tell him not to go out of his way to please you, he’d look at you with those eyes that he knew would make you weak in the knees (and the heart).

Ever the gentleman, he checks to make sure the girls are distracted before giving you a quick kiss goodbye. “You're a fantastic teacher,” he says before slipping out the door. “Even for a difficult student like me.” 

“Is Mr. Spencer leaving?” one of the girls asks as they all come in from their break. 

Returning your water to its place by the stereo, you say “Mr. Spencer needs to get back to work.”

“But he’s so funny!” one girl protests. 

“Maybe I can come visit another time,” he says, “once I get some more practice in. Then maybe I can be as good as you all are.”

They wave goodbye as he slips out the door, quickly distracted by the new combination you teach them. 

Coming home that night, you find Spencer is already on the couch. 

“How were the rest of your classes?” he asks, looking up from his book. 

Setting your bag down, you meet him at the couch and sit down. “Pretty good, less entertaining without you as a student.”

He smiles, placing his hand on your thigh. “I went to the bookstore after work.”

“Shocker.”

“I found a history of ballet. Did you know that ballet was originally a display of athleticism?”

“No wonder you’re so bad at it,” you say, causing you both to chuckle at your mean comment. Despite your teasing, his interest in what you love will always warm your heart. 

He closes the book, pulling you closer into a hug. “It’s too bad your time subbing is over.” He traces his thumb along your thigh. “I’ll miss seeing you practice your lessons.”

You rest your head on his shoulder, and he kisses your forehead. Eyes closing, you feel comfort in his presence. Your mind begins to wander, comparing the comfort of his arms to the feeling you get when you’re dancing. 

“What are you smiling about?” he questions. 

“You.” 

He pulls you up into a kiss. He’s glad you share your life and your art with him. Letting you rest your head on his chest, he feels you fall asleep. He knows you’ll be annoyed that you fell asleep on the couch, but he can’t bring himself to wake you. He picks the book back up, only pausing his reading to look down at the way you smile in your sleep.

[doshi-sukiru]

Hi!

I’m so interested in your Shattered Glass MegOP tfone AU! I wanted to ask since you mentioned that Optimus banished Megatron after their fight out of anger.

Then you also mentioned that Optimus thinks Megatron is a prisoner of war and is trying to get him back.

At what point did he go from “he betrayed me” to “oh my primus he’s clearly been kidnapped”? Especially since I assume Megatron and the High Guard willingly left for the surface the same as in the movie. Like did he immediately change his mind after Megatron left or like was there a brief moment where he had to think about it?

Sorry sksksk I’m just so invested hahaha

LMAO no worries you're good

So when Megatron first came back, Optimus believed it was D-16 in a new frame. He began to hug him and talk to him and act like how he used to, but Megatron could see how Optimus tore apart Sentinel behind him, and could see other mechs destroying Iacon and causing destruction. Megatron tried to pull away from Optimus and get him to realize that what he's doing is worse than good.

I mentioned before as well that D-16 was against killing Sentinel in cold blood, which annoyed Orion before, and seeing Megatron act like this still after coming back only angered Optimus.

Megatron tried to suggest that instead they should first find a way to bring back energon to the people, and let the high guard return to their positions to get more servos to help fight against the Quintessons, and because the high guard were good mechs.

Unfortunately, telling an angry Optimus that while having Starscream behind you, who Optimus tried to kill before, doesn't make the situation any better.

Optimus didn't think that Megatron was speaking his mind, or was trying to help Optimus, and immediately jumped into thinking that Starscream had taken his D-16 and persuaded him to go against Optimus. So, naturally, he lunged at Starscream in anger, but Megatron got in the way, and the two fought- with Optimus trying to throw Megatron to the side and hit Starscream, and Megatron trying to calm him down.

When they finally returned to the pit entrance, most of the high guard were there, and stood behind Megatron to protect him if Optimus tried to fight again. In that moment, Optimus's anger was so pent up he immediately yelled at Megatron and the high guard to be banished once again to the surface. He wasn't thinking about much else other than the fact that if Megatron wouldn't stand by his choices, he didn't deserve to be in Iacon either.

Megatron didn't go willingly at first, and tried to demand Optimus listen to him, but Soundwave stopped him, warning him that any more talk with Optimus would be useless with how angry the prime was, and when Megatron looked at Optimus he realized he was right. So he left with the high guard.

It took Optimus about a few hours before he cooled down and realized what he did, and felt crushed knowing he did something so terrible. But, Optimus has never accepted such faults before, and immediately began to try to divert the blame from him to someone or something else.

That's when he got that special idea- Starscream must have corrupted D-16's mind and had the the high guard force him to leave with them, because why would D-16 leave Optimus? The two were best buddies, almost conjunxes! It couldn't have been a choice he'd make willingly, because D-16 never acted out of line, he always did as told and followed Optimus no matter what!

So that was what spawned the idea that his beloved was a hostage, and not an equal with them.

thank you! again, any other ask you have you can give, I'll answer them as best as I can until friday!

[transformers-nerd-13]

Alrighty, you asked for it, so you got it! Here's my analysis of Transformers G1; More than Meets the Eye: Part Two. I did an analysis of Part one yesterday so go read that if you are so inclined (you can find it on my page; I'm still learning Tumblr so I'm not sure how to link posts lol). Fair warning this is pretty long. Without further ado, let's get into it!

We open with a recap of what happened in the previous episode to remind the viewer of what happened last time. It's pretty rapid fire so I assume some of it had to be cut or it had to be pretty short for episode time. 

We're then introduced to Huffer (unfortunate name sir) who has his arm stuck in some debris. He calls for help and Brawn comes to his aid. Brawn uses a...well, it looks like a welder or a blowtorch but functions more like a laser so I'm not sure what to call this--to free Huffer. As soon as Huffer is free, both Huffer and Brawn fly off because at this point, all the Autobots could fly, ditching the other Autobots. Thanks for your help guys. 

We cut over to Prime who's still trying to free Spike and Sparkplug. Optimus tells Trailbreaker--who's currently helping the oil rig workers escape--to use his force field to suppress the flames. Not sure how effective this would really be, I mean if you trap the flames in a closed space, it'd eventually burn up all the oxygen and burn out, but this is an oil fire so it also has to run out of fuel--maybe I'm overthinking this; this is an 80's cartoon, they didn't care about physics. Wheeljack offers Trailbreaker a hand in suppressing the flames and the two take off. Trailbreaker uses his forcefield, but Wheelack proves that force field immediately redundant by using his built in fire extinguishers on the fire. Why didn't Prime just ask Wheeljack to use his fire extinguishers in the first place?? Why does Wheeljack never have these extinguishers again?? They would've really helped when the Dinobots or Autobot Spike started wrecking the Ark/Teletraan One. Just sayin.

Optimus gets Spike and Sparkplug free and Jazz uses his built-in grappling hook sort of like a fishing line to reel Optimus in, getting them to safety on a somehow steady piece of debris. 

Sparkplug doesn't exactly thank Optimus? He says "I don't know who you are, but you saved our lives." Seeming completely unbothered that he's talking to a giant robot. He should've at least properly thanked Optimus. Manners Sparkplug. Optimus tells them that they're Autobots from the planet Cybertron and that the ones who attacked the oil rig were called Decepticons. Robots in disguise my side function! Spike asks if there's anything he and Sparkplug can do to help the bots. Optimus tells them that the Autobots are the only ones who can stop the Decepticons, but Sparkplug points out that he and Spike know more about earth than the bots do.

Cut to later where the Autobots have apparently taken the two humans back to the ruins of the Ark where Spike is sitting on a nearby rock formation and writing in his diary or notebook about the Autobots. He says that he doesn't know if they're from the past or the future, but they're highly advanced robots who can think and have "real" feelings.

Spike. They literally told you they're from another planet. They are an alien species. You're talking about them like they're a human creation. 

We pan over to see Soundwave spying on Spike not very discreetly from behind a rock. That's gotta be a fragging tall rock. When did Soundwave get here and why is he here?? How did Teletraan not pick him up on the scanners???

Spike puts his notebook in his backpack and starts back toward the Ark, walking towards Soundwave, who transforms into his cassette player mode.

Spike spots his cassette player mode and picks it up, and even though it clearly has the Decepticon symbol on it he picks it up and takes it with him because he’s apparently blind. Spike enters the Ark, his backpack has apparently vanished into the void, and he puts Soundwave near Teletraan. This totally won't bite him in the ass later.

Spike asks Trailbreaker about Cybertron, but asks him why the Autobots transform--it's not a question about Cybertron, it's a question about CybertronIANS. He could've asked about Cybertronians and the question about why they transform wouldn't seem so out of place. Trailbreaker answers that they transform for disguise, and that it beats walking.

Sir, since you've gotten to earth, every single Cybertronian has had all the stealth of an elephant in a room with a floor covered in bubble wrap. Disguise my boron compressor.

Spike asks how they transform. We cut over to Ratchet's medbay where Ratchet is currently fixing Huffer's arm (I guess it got damaged from the debris??), Sunstreaker and Cliffjumper are also there in their alt modes for some reason. Mirage and Hound are also there for some reason. Trailbreaker and Spike have materialized in the medbay and Trailbreaker tells Mirage and Hound that Spike wants to know how they transform. Hound transforms, and that's apparently a good enough answer for Spike. T-cogs hadn't been invented yet, so I guess a demonstration of a transformation was the best answer they had at the time. 

Hound makes a hologram of a man in his driver's seat, and Spike asks "What other tricks can you do?" I don't really like the phrasing of that question; I'm not really sure why, but it just rubs me the wrong way. It would've been better if Spike had asked "What else can you do?" Idk that might just be a personal preference. 

Mirage shows off his invisibility powers before Hound offers Spike a ride and Spike accepts. 

Cut over to Soundwave who transforms into his bot mode (seriously Teletraan how are you not seeing this-) and ejects Ravage so that Ravage can enter Teletraan in his (G1 Ravage was a he because literally everyone was a he in Season 1 of G1) cassette mode to gather information on Earth's resources before Soundwave turns back into his cassette player mode and starts recording again for some reason. There's nobody else in the room, Soundwave. What are you recording?? Also why does Teletraan have a cassette port?? And why does Teletraan already have recorded information of Earth's resources?? When did it have time?? Who gave it that command?? Or did it just do that on its own?? So many questions lol. 

Cut over to Hound and Spike who are taking a drive through the desert where the Ark crashed (side note, are there any deserts with volcanoes??). Hound says that Earth must be a nice place to live. Spike replies that it's okay, but he wants to know more about Cybertron. Spike doesn't realize is that Hound is just as curious about Earth as he is about Cybertron, and while it may have been boring for the kids watching to have them exchange information about their respective home worlds, it would've been a nice bonding moment between the two. Hound tells Spike that before the war, Cybertron was quiet and peaceful. Spike asks if he misses it, and Hound replies "Sometimes" and they move on from this really quickly. Maybe because it’s painful for Hound to talk about. Of course Hound misses it; it was his home. But he can't afford to stay in a state of grief over the loss of his home because there's a war going on; he needs to push through and help the Autobots win the war so that they have a chance of seeing their home world again, even if it'll never be the same as it was. It hurts to think about what his home once was. Or maybe I'm reading too far into this again.

Spike and Hound make it back to the Ark, and Spike finally notices something fishy about that cassette player he brought back since it's recording data from Teletraan. Soundwave decides that the jig is up and transforms into his bot mode, trying to grab Spike, missing horribly as the human ducks to avoid him. Spike hits an alarm that he could somehow reach and Soundwave and Ravage (who ejected from Teletraan at Soundwave's command) make a run for it. Optimus (who appeared from the void) sees them running out of the Ark and says "A Decepticon! Get him!"

One, do you not know who Soundwave is?? Two, “Get him”. That was your whole plan. Get him (If anyone gets the reference put it in the comments). Good plan Optimus.

The Autobots however do not go after Soundwave and he gets away. Bumblebee and Brawn manage to catch Ravage but that lasts for all of two seconds before Ravage gets out of their grasp. Sideswipe and Jazz fire on Ravage but since they have the aim of Stormtroopers, they miss horribly. 

I am now half convinced that the only reason the war has gone on so long is because nobody on either side can aim for shit.

Ravage disappears into the shadows and suddenly nobody can see him anymore. Gears and Hound have suddenly replaced Sideswipe and Jazz. Optimus tells Gears to use his infrared (I guess Cybertronians show up in infrared light??) which just looks like a red flashlight (mhm yep that's definitely infrared) that allows them to spot Ravage. Jazz and Prowl fire a net and capture Ravage (pictured above with Gears’ “infrared” light).

Cut over to the cons where Soundwave is somehow playing back the information Ravage gathered from Teletraan about Sherman (Sherma maybe? If so then Senator Sherma’s—MTMTE—name is a very obscure reference.) Dam without actually having Ravage (no idea how that worked), presenting the dam as a potential power source to gather more Energon. Megatron commends Soundwave for a job well done, while Starscream says that the dam doesn't possess enough electrical power to make the Energon cubes. Megatron tells Starscream that "Your knowledge is only overshadowed by your stupidity" (one of my favorite lines), and that they're going to create a tidal wave big enough to send enough power surging through the dam to make all the Energon cubes they need. At least they're using clean energy I guess?

Cut to the next day at sunrise when the Decepticons arrive at the dam. Soundwave ejects Rumble who goes to the bottom of the river and uses his pile-drivers to create the tidal wave (I don't think this would actually work but I could be entirely wrong) while the other cons take off and head for the power plant (aka the dam).

The employees inside the dam notice that the gauges are going crazy and say something must be wrong while one guy smacks the gauges to try and fix them (solid plan sir that'll definitely work). One of the other employees tells them that the river's rising and tells the others to man their emergency stations. 

Cut over to the Ark where Teletraan tells Jazz and Spike in complete gibberish writing about the tidal wave at the dam and that the power output is ten times what it is normally. Jazz says that it could be the cons (it couldn't possibly be a natural disaster, it must be the Decepticons!) 

Cut over to the cons who have arrived at the dam and Megatron starts making demands, telling the employees who have not manned their emergency stations to do exactly as he says.

Quick cut over to the Autobots who are now on their way to the dam, Optimus telling the others: "Autobots, accelerate!" and they all keep going at the exact same speed they were going at before.

Back with the Decepticons in the dam, the employees say that the dam is gonna blow and that they've gotta get outta there. The Decepticons don't care though and start making their Energon cubes anyway. The Autobots arrive on the scene and Prowl briefly gets Optimus' voice before regaining his own voice again and asks if he really thinks the cons are behind this. Before Optimus can answer, he's cut off by Megatron firing a warning shot at them, telling them that they're too late. The bots take to the air while Hound and Spike find the heart of the tidal wave. Hound goes into the river to investigate and finds Rumble. 

Cut over to Ironhide and Bumblebee who are diverting the water of the river so that it doesn't cause too much flooding (yeah, that's how that works. Also how the heck does Bumblebee fit in the back of Ironhide's Alt Mode???) which they succeed in. 

The other Autobots arrive at the power plant where they all shoot at the plant and finally manage to hit something--that something being Starscream, as well as a tiny Starscream with no wings who never gets addressed--before entering the plant. The bots and cons duke it out while Sparkplug gets the employees out of the power plant. Mirage saves Cliffjumper from Thundercracker and Skywarp and Cliffjumper compliments Mirage’s combat skills.

Megatron and Optimus go one on one with each other and it looks like Megatron has the upper hand until Starscream uses a slingshot and whatever he fires from the slingshot hits the computers in the dam and explodes. The explosion causes Megatron to lose his upper hand. He and Optimus begin duking it out once again while the other cons make their getaway with the Energon cubes. 

Meanwhile, Spike is getting worried about Hound, who is still fighting Rumble underwater. Rumble traps Hound under some rocks and makes his way back up to the surface. For some reason Spike asks Rumble where Hound is, and Rumble just shoves Spike away as he walks off.

Rude.

Spike picks a fight with Rumble and loses in under five seconds. Spike calls for help which distracts Optimus from the fight, allowing Megatron the opportunity to knock Optimus off the dam they were fighting on seconds before and into the river below. Megatron mocks him and makes his escape with the other Decepticons as Optimus is sent down river. Jazz appears from the void and once again uses his grappling hook to get Optimus to shore for the second time this episode.

Cut over to Spike who seems to have been knocked unconscious by Rumble before he left with the other cons off screen and is now waking up. He calls out for Hound, but there's no reply, so he dives into the river to find him. He finds Hound remarkably quickly and manages to gain temporary super strength as he un-buries Hound enough so that Hound can get them both back up to the surface.

Apparently the short time Spike was underwater was long enough for him to almost drown (I guess he didn't take a deep enough breath before going under??) and Hound helps Spike recover from this but....it...it just looks wrong. So we're going to move swiftly onward. 

Cut to the other Autobots. Mirage suggests that they repair the Ark and go back to Cybertron and forget about the Decepticons. Optimus tells him that they can't do that; if Megatron succeeds here on Earth (presumably succeeding in gathering energy), he'll be impossible to beat on Cybertron. Huffer says that the bots aren't fighters like the cons are (haven't y'all been fighting a war for millions of years?? I'd assume you'd at least pick up some fighting skills in that amount of time). Optimus tells Huffer that "We must have courage. We can't ignore the danger; we must conquer it." A very good line. 

Cut to a quick montage of the cons getting more Energon cubes from various sources. Soundwave reports to Megatron that the new space cruiser is almost complete, but they still need 3,000 astroliters of energy (however much that is). They need one more source of energy to get this amount and the cons choose the Ruby Crystals of Burma as their energy source since they're apparently the richest source of energy on the face of the earth. 

Starscream tests their Energon using a giant blaster hooked up to some of Energon cubes and firing on a mountain to ensure that the cubes actually work. Megatron calls him a fool for wasting the energy, but Starscream tells him that he didn't know for sure that they worked because they never tested them. In Starscream's defense, it was a good idea to make sure they actually worked to make sure that their hard work and plundering of resources wasn't for nothing, but it probably should've been done earlier and now they need even more energy to replace the amount that Starscream used by firing that blaster, which, needless to say, annoys Megatron since he's now set them back and they don't have the time to replace it. Except they do because Soundwave informs them of the existence of rocket fuel which they could plunder to make more energon cubes. 

Cut over to a lake not too far away from the cons where Trailbreaker is listening in on the cons plans using his satellite dish and Spike and Sparkplug are calmly drinking tea. They hear the con's plan and go to radio Prime.

Cut back to the cons where Starscream (unprompted) is telling Megatron not to test him and that his desire for power is as great as Megatron's. Megatron tells him that "Power flows to the one who knows how; desire is not enough." How what?? How to use it??? Probably what they meant. Starscream tells him that time makes all things possible, and that he can wait. A strike force of cons (aka every con who we've seen thus far) is assembled and they take off for the crystal mines. This interaction would've been better if it'd been before Soundwave telling them about the rocket fuel because it would give Starscream just cause to be annoyed because Megatron is yelling at him for performing a necessary experiment to ensure that what they'd been doing was actually working. Soundwave could've interjected after Starscream had said that he could wait, telling them about the rocket fuel and thus diffusing the situation. 

Cut to Trailbreaker, Spike and Sparkplug who've decided to drive back to the Ark and report back to Prime in person instead of radioing him off screen for some reason--maybe Trailbreaker's radio wasn't working? Thundercracker and Skywarp attack them on their way back (for some reason--how did they find them??) and since Trailbreaker isn't built for speed, they radio the Ark for backup.

So Trailbreaker's radio was working?? Why didn't you just radio Prime earlier???

Their backup arrives literally five seconds later in the form of Sideswipe and Sunstreaker who either drove at the speed of ZOOM to get there that fast or they weren't too far from the Ark, but if it was the latter, they really didn't need the backup because they would've arrived not long after, so I'm going to assume it was the former. Sunstreaker gets hit but it's only enough to damage his new paint job. He shoots Thundercracker in response (the autobots have good aim this episode) and apparently this is enough to send Thundercracker back for repairs. Skywarp accompanies him back to Decepticon HQ, but it never gets brought up again so we're going to ignore it. Trailbreaker thanks the twins for their help. Sunstreaker complains about his damaged paint job but Sideswipe tells him that nobody will notice if Sunstreaker only makes left turns.

I don't think that's how that works, but okay. 

Cut to the Decepticons who are currently in the crystal mines making Energon cubes. Somehow Skywarp and Thundercracker have already made it here and both are completely fine. Soundwave says that there's enough crystals in the mine to power the whole planet of Cybertron. So you guys don't need the rocket fuel after all??

Cut to the Autobots who've made it to just outside of the mines. Wheeljack suggests using a bomb of his to bury the Decepticons forever. They know the cons are in the mines, they just don't know where. Bumblebee and Sparkplug (who apparently used to work in these mines??) volunteer to go into the mine, find the cons, and plant the bomb. Wheeljack warns them that once they push the button to detonate the explosive, they have exactly one minute to get out of there. Prime tells the two that if there's any problems to get out of there. Sparkplug assures Prime that there won't be any problems.

Foreshadowing.

Bee and Sparkplug make it into the mines without much issue and place the bomb, but when they try to get out, they're caught by Thundercracker and Skywarp who start beating them up. 

Back outside, Jazz comments that the two should be out of there by now and Prime is getting worried. Ironhide volunteers to go check it out but Optimus says he'll go. Backup is offered but he refuses, telling the other bots that if he's not back in five minutes to come get him.

Optimus sends his drone Roller who sounds like R2D2 and will only appear in a handful of other episodes to go investigate just before the bomb detonates.

The bomb goes off and everyone inside of the mine is buried and Optimus is sent barrel-rolling dramatically in slow motion down the cliff side, leaving us with a cliffhanger. 

And that was the second episode of the Transformers. It crams a lot into one episode, but somehow when you watch it, it doesn't feel too rushed. I do wish they'd taken some more time for the humans and the Autobots to learn about and understand each other, but I understand that there was a time limit on the episode and these interactions may have been considered boring by the kids watching at home. Overall it's a very fun watch though.

I hope this was enjoyable! I'll probably be putting out my analysis of Part 3 within the next few days. Hope to see you there!

[moonythejedi394]

oh you liked how in my fic for him. bucky didn't fall from the train well what if he did?

His phone buzzes. Steve picks it up and sees a text from Hill, then another one comes in. They’re both phone numbers. The first one is Becca’s and the second is Benny’s. Benny’s name is still Barnes, but Hill’s text has Becca’s last name as Proctor. Steve exhales, then he calls Becca.

It rings for a long time. Steve bites his lip.

“Hello?”

Becca’s voice is rough and cracking with age, but it’s her. Steve exhales heavily.

“It’s Steve,” he says quietly. “Hi.”

There’s silence for a moment.

“What flowers were at your wedding?” Becca asks. 

Steve smiles, bittersweet, but it’s just like Becca to be suspicious. “Red carnations and daisies. Bucky had a daisy in his lapel,” he adds. “Your ma did all youse’s hair with daisies, too. And you and Betty had matching dresses, little cap sleeves and empire waists and a bow in the back, and your ma bought both of you a pair of kitten heels, even though you were only eight, they were yellow with bows, too. Benny had a dress with a big poofy skirt and she kept grousing about it, even though she tried to get me to wear a wedding gown with a poofy skirt. I let Benny pick the color of your dresses, though. She picked pale yellow because she was obsessed with lemons back then. The wedding cake was lemon because of her, lemon and lavender.”

“Steve…” Becca exhales. “Is it really you?”

“Yeah,” Steve whispers, trying to hold back sudden tears. “Becca, Bucky – Before he – Before –”

“What?” Becca asks gently. “What did Bucky do?”

“‘M pregnant,” Steve confesses.

“Oh, my G-d,” Becca whispers. “Oh, my G-d. You’re pregnant?”

“Three months,” Steve then tells her, his voice almost breaking. “I’m about three months in.”

“Did Bucky know?”

Steve lets out a watery sort of laugh. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah. He – He said I could go on one last mission, the mission to get Zola, then he was gonna tell Colonel Phillips and get me discharged. We didn’t know for sure, but…”

“Oh, Steve,” Becca murmurs. “Where are you, honey?”

“Brooklyn,” Steve whispers. “Bedford-Stuyvesant,” he adds.

“Okay, honey, I’m gonna come pick you up, alright? I got a spare bedroom, you can have it. Bucky wouldn’t want you to be alone. What’s your address?”

Steve bites his lip hard, fighting back tears. But she’s right.

“Alright,” he mumbles, then recites the address for Barton’s apartment building. “I don’t have a lot of things right now,” he says. “I – I, uh, I’m trying to get the Smithsonian to give back all our stuff…”

“I heard your collar got taken out of the exhibit,” Becca says. “You have it?”

“Yeah,” Steve answers. “I had to get a new key fitted for the lock. Buck–”

He can’t say it. Bucky had had the key on the chain that held Steve’s dog tags. It had fallen with him, to be forever entombed in stone and ice.

“It’s okay, honey,” Becca tells him. “I won’t be long, just an hour. Have you got a nest set up yet?”

“No,” Steve admits softly. “I – I want –” His voice cracks and he swallows. “I want my nesting stuff. It’s all in the Smithsonian. They’re saying it all belonged to some Omega I collared.”

“I’ll sic my grandkids on ‘em,” Becca says. “What have you eaten today?”

Steve groans and drops his head back against the wall. “Protein bars,” he mutters.

“Anything else?”

“No.”

“Bucky’s gonna come back from the grave and take a double-folded belt to your ass if you don’t start taking better care of his property,” Becca offers kindly.

Steve laughs a little again, then wipes tears from his eyes. “You’re right.”

“What have you got other than protein bars?” Becca asks.

“Protein shakes,” Steve sighs.

“Oh, boy, Bucky’s rolling in his grave.”

Steve almost laughs. He squeezes his eyes shut and takes a shaking breath.

“If you need to cry, you should,” Becca says. “It’s good for you.”

“Call me when you get here,” Steve murmurs. “I have to pack.”

“Alright. Just an hour, big brother.”

[its-time-to-write]

chapter 8

I wish I could explain to you the absolute feat it was to complete these chapters. I’ve been having a TIME lol but like,,, not a bad time? Just a busy one. I’ll probably be gone for a bit (but who actually knows) since I’ve got a few end-of-year projects that have been taking up my time and brain. And I don’t recall if I mentioned before, but I’m on a 2-year medication that causes SUCH bad brain fog. anyway. That’s enough over sharing. Here’s the rest of were you sent by someone?

table of contents

i’m not pretending in the way you are

It becomes a routine, Jamie coming over. It doesn’t help that Madeline (the fucking traitor) vaguely endorses the whole thing after girl’s night at Keeley’s. 

“I genuinely think he’s trying,” she says. “He goes to therapy, for fuck’s sake. That’s got to mean something.”

“Fuck you,” you reply good-naturedly and Madeline just poses for another selfie with Clare. 

But she’s right. He is trying, trying in a way he didn’t when you were together. He’s almost reliable, although you’d never say it to his face. He shows up with flowers, doesn’t push boundaries, and more often than not he makes dinner. 

And he’s fucking brilliant with Clare. It’s almost unfair how good he is, with no practice whatsoever. She loves him, smiles whenever she can see him and giggles when he holds her.

You take her to a game, once. Madeline comes too, wearing an oversized Rojas kit and a miniskirt. You just wear a red shirt and jeans, but Bean has a Tartt onesie. You see Keeley Jones from afar and barely dodge having to talk to her. Jamie finds you after the match and Madeline takes a picture of the three of you. Jamie has his arms wrapped around you and you’re smiling. It’s a real smile too, and the picture ends up on your fridge. You’re not sure how because you definitely didn’t put it there, but Madeline and Jamie are there often enough that it could have been either one of them. 

Most dinners devolve into fierce arguments between Jamie and Madeline about who love Clare the most, but you aren’t complaining. She’s sleeping through the night now, so you let them argue while glued to your computer.

Jamie has taken to holding your hand whenever he can manage it. He always was one for physical touch, and it’s nice. He hasn’t made a move beyond that and you’re not ready for that but whatever you have right now is working.

Georgie visits, and that’s strange. You’d only met her twice before, and now she’s in your house holding Clare while Jamie sits on the couch next to them. It feels like intruding almost, the way they all have the same face and the same smile, so you disappear upstairs. They won’t notice, you’re positive, but there’s a tap on the door to your room and instead of looking up to see Jamie, it’s Georgie. She comes in and sits at the end of your bed at your invitation and says, “Are you all right, love?”

You smile, the one you use for photographs. Not fake, but not real either. “Of course,” you reply. “I’m glad you could come meet Clare. You’re welcome back any time.”

Georgie squints. “It must be strange for you,” she says, “going from being all alone to having the other side of Clare’s family. It was hard enough for me when Simon came ‘round, much less Jamie. And Jamie was older, too, so the poor baby was always worried Simon was going to leave.”

You nod. You’re quite familiar with the story. You still aren’t sure Jamie trusts Simon, but maybe he wouldn’t trust anyone with his mum.

Which begs the question, do you really trust anyone with Clare? Jamie’s been lovely for a whole month, but a month isn’t long enough to really tell. You wonder if the threat of him leaving will always loom over your head.

“Jamie called me, you know,” Georgie says. “It was right after he met Clare. He wanted to know how to un-fuck up everything and I told him he might not be able to. He was a right little shit, I heard. I just told him what I would have liked when I was in your shoes, but I know it doesn’t magically fix everything.”

And that… that makes sense. Not that Jamie couldn’t have figured out how to make things better on his own, but he did it almost perfectly. It makes sense why everything he did seemed to anticipate all your needs. He’d asked someone who’d been in your shoes, and hadn’t gotten the help she might have wanted. 

“He loves you, you know,” Georgie continues. She doesn’t seem to feel the need to pressure you to speak, which is good because you don’t have much to say. “I mean, he really, truly, spectacularly loves you. He speaks about you in all of our conversations, always going on about how amazing you are at your job and as a mum.” That’s interesting. You hadn’t known Jamie spoke to Georgie about you, much less what he might have said. You know Georgie can be many things, but she isn’t a liar. 

She hesitates for a moment. “You don’t have to treat me like your mum, but I’d like to treat you as my daughter. I always hoped Jamie would choose someone who’d make him want to be better. He’s a sweet thing, he is, but he gets funny in the head sometimes, you know what I mean?”

You smile. “Jamie? Funny in the head? Say it isn’t so.”

Georgie laughs. “Ah, that Clare is going to have quite the sense humor between the two of you I’m sure. You’ll have to come ‘round up north when you can manage it. I know Simon would be absolutely delighted to meet you both.”

Your eyes flicker. That’s a big step. A very permanent, potentially painful step.

Georgie catches it and leans forward. “Love, I’m not just here because of the baby. I’m here because you’re someone Jamie cares about. Simon and I want to be a support system for you.” She smiles. “And of course, we don’t want to step on your toes. James’s parents were always trying to take Jamie, and I fucking hated it.”

You hear footsteps on the stairs and Jamie appears with Clare. “Oi,” he says, “you lot having a chat about me?”

“No,” you and Georgie chorus and Jamie just squints. “Fucking lying, you are. Can always tell.”

You hold your arms out for Clare. At this rate, the kid won’t be on the floor long enough to learn how to crawl.

“Cruel,” Jamie continues, and you roll your eyes. So dramatic, he is. “Anyway, came up to see if you’d like to go out to eat tonight. I can’t do the fuckin’ dishes. I need a break.”

“Lazybones,” Georgie says, and it’s different now than it was downstairs. It feels like family.

—

Georgie’s been gone a week and you’ve been roped into dinner at Jamie’s with Roy Kent and Keeley fucking Jones.

Thank fucking god Madeline’s there as well with her on-again off-again boy toy who’s probably her soulmate and who she will most likely marry when she’s in her forties because otherwise you’d lose your fucking shit.

It’s a strange dinner without the fact that you can’t stomach Keeley, because Roy fucking hates Jamie.

You’re pretty sure he tolerates you, and he definitely likes Clare because he holds her most of the night before you put her down in her room to sleep. 

The feeling’s mutual, because she cries the moment you take her from him.

You say, “You’re good with kids,” and Roy just shrugs.

Back at the dinner table, Madeline’s had to dig her nails into your thigh. She’s definitely going to leave crescent fingernail marks, but if it stops you from being rude, you won’t wiggle away.

Jamie’s oblivious. He just seems happy not to be alone in his giant, far too quiet house. It’s a relatively uneventful evening, although you’re not the biggest fan of the way Keeley tells stories about Jamie like he belongs to her, somehow. Or like you don’t exist.

By the time she and Roy leave, you’re exhausted. The last thing you want to do is wake Clare, drive her home, and try to get her to sleep again.

Madeline and Isaiah (aforementioned boy toy) leave soon after, and you call, “Use protection!” as they walk down the steps.

“Worked well for you, did it?” Isaiah asks and you flip him off, but you aren’t mad. Like you said, you’re relatively certain he’s Madeline’s soulmate and he’s been around long enough that he’s allowed to joke like that.

The door finally closes behind them and you’re ready to collapse. You turn to find Jamie with a similar expression and without conscious effort, you make your way into his arms.

You close your eyes and sigh as you rest your cheek on his chest.

He asks, “You tired?” and you nod. “Want to spend the night? Can make up the room next to Clare’s. Won’t take long.”

You shake your head, and you feel him deflate a little. “I don’t want the room next to Clare’s.”

Jamie pulls away a bit to gauge your expression. “You mean-?”

You nod. “I hate sleeping alone. It’s cold and stupid.”

Jamie says, “Hm,” and uses one hand to brush hair away from your face. Your gaze flicks to his lips for a moment, but he definitely sees it. You have just enough time to say, “We’re not having sex,” before he’s kissing you, and you think that maybe forgiving him isn’t such a terrible idea after all. 

But you’re too tired to explore that idea further so when he breaks away to get some air, you pull him upstairs and to his room where you both collapse on the bed and fall asleep intertwined.

[novankenn]

Prelude to... A movie on Saturday

A snippet from "a Mafia" & "From Assassin to Sales Clerk" AUs

Pyrrha was once again in the mall being dragged along by Jaune. The man she was supposed to kill, but because of her traitor of a heart and turncoat of a brain, she couldn't pull the literal trigger on the job. Of course the dense, oblivious, sweet, cutie. Pyrrha shook her head to try and replace those words... only for sweet to become loveable, and cute to morph into adorable.

So because of her inability to override her heart and brain, her mark who somehow had spotted her trailing him, decided she must be his... bodyguard. Pyrrha didn't know what was worse. Not being able to finish the job herself, or having to PREVENT other hitters from completing the contract! In was insane, and giving her a migraine.

"Jaune!" Pyrrha yelped when he grabbed her by the wrist, and started to drag her towards his chosen destination. "Hold on!"

"Come on Pyr!" Jaune spoke through his adorable goofy smile. Hearing her nickname, and seeing that smile, made Pyrrha "Goddess of Death" Nikos, blush like a school girl.

The blush, and associated happy feelings instantly died upon stepping over the threshold to Pumpkin Pete's Novelty Store. Gods Pyrrha hated this store. It was tacky, gaudy, and over priced! Like seriously $200 lien for a hoodie just because it had a trademarked rabbit head logo on it? But Jaune loved the store, and as his... bodyguard she was required to stick by his side, even in this hell.

But that wasn't the full reason she hated stepping inside this neon coloured purgatory. No that other reason was currently staffing the till of the store.

"Hi, Jaune! Pyrrha!" Blake called from her spot next to the till, in an overly cheery tone.

"Blake! Did they come in?" Jaune asked, like a over energetic puppy.

"Yep. The whole set is on the shelf, next to the Cereal Display." Blake helpfully informed Jaune, who released his grip on Pyrrha and rushed off towards the indicated destination.

"Blake." Pyrrha greeted the cashier coldly. Now why would Pyrrha be such a... bitch to some one working in customer service? Well because Blake Belladonna was also an assassin. One who had TRIED to claim the payout on Jaune.

"Pyrrha, you can relax. I signed off as not interested on Jaune's contract. You and him are safe in here." Blake informed her rival hitwoman for like the twentieth time.

"I still don't trust you."

"And that is an issue." Blake retorted. "How can you be in a relationship when you can't even trust someone in the same profession... wait that is a terrible example. I can perfectly see why you would have trust issue there."

"Whoa! Limited Edition Chainsaw-hand Pete!" Jaune shouted in excitement from his side of the store.

"How many of those freakish Sche-Pop things are there?" Pyrrha asked with a defeated sigh.

"Two dozen." Blake responded. "Anyway, you need to be more trustful. How are you going to move forward with Jaune if you can't trust and be honest?"

"Honest and truthful?" Pyrrha snorted, "Tell me Blake, in your infinate wisdom how this would go. Ahem. Jaune I'm actually a hitwoman who is supposed to kill you for a Schnee amount of money."

"Yeah, maybe not that honest."

"Anyway, have you been that honest with... Yang?"

"How do you know about her?" Blake hissed, her hand reaching for the kukri sheathed under the counter top.

"Jaune and her are friends through her sister Ruby, and you should understand... blonds talk. Especially to other blonds."

"Shit!"

"So have you taken your own advice?" Pyrrha asked with a smirk. "Opened that Pandora's box of truth, to you blond?"

"I'm trying!" Blake hissed, "It's hard, you know. I even bought out her contract four years ago, so no one could pick it up!"

"Whoa. That is commitment. When's the wedding?"

"Hush you!" Blake answered. "You're no better, you know that! Blushing and squirming like a school girl every time Jaune even looks at you!"

"How else should I react?" Pyrrha asked. "His contract has a no-buy-out clause! I'm sleeping in his bedroom for Gods sake!"

"Same or separate beds?" Blake asked instantly serious.

"Separate."

"Shit!"

"Blake, where you thinking lewd thoughts about me and my sweet Jaune-Jaune?"

"No, and do you hear yourself?"

"EEP!" Pyrrha squeaked as she finally recalled what she just said, and said out loud. "Argh! I'm a mess! What am I supposed to do! This should never have happened!"

"Preach it sister." Blake replied. "Yang wants to take me to the movies, Saturday, and I bet you an hour's wages she'll invite Jaune who will bring you along."

"A movie!" Pyrrha's heart was slamming against her ribs. "What the hell do we do at a movie?"

"Hold hands? Make out?"

"We are killers Blake! We are ill equipped to do such normal things!" Pyrrha growled in desperation while unintentionally grabbing Blake by her hands. "What are we supposed to do? how am I supposed to act normal?"

"Don't ask me!" Blake replied. " The only normal thing I know is how to work a retail job!"

"Right." Pyrrha released Blake's hands. "I hope you don't take this the wrong way, but WHY are you still working here?"

"Deery." Blake replied without hesitation. "She's scary."

"Oh, yeah... I remember her." Pyrrha visibly shivered.

"Hey!"

"No."

"Rude. You don't even know what I was going to say!"

"You were going to suggest I speak to one of Jaune's sisters." Pyrrha scowled. "Not happening. Ever."

"So then we go to this movie, flub it, Get outed as murderous psychos, and lose the loves of our lives?" Blake asked.

"Fine. I'll ask Saphron." Pyrrha capitulated. "Happy?"

"You were right Blake!" Jaune commented in his overly cheerfully friendly voice. "They had ALL twenty-four PLUS the four special editions!" Jaune pushed a shopping cart to the counter. A cart filled with boxed figures.

"Jaune. Don't you have like all of these at home already?" Pyrrha asked, leaning back from the freaky things.

"No. That was series one. These are series two. So they're different."

"How?"

"Poses. Accessories." Jaune cheerfully replied.

"I'll just ring these all though, for you." Blake commented.

"Oh, Blake?"

"Yes, Jaune?"

"Yang said something about movies Saturday." Pyrrha froze. "So I thought I'd check with you to see if you'd mind it Pyr and I tagged along?"

"Don't mind at all. The more the merrier." Blake replied, in her practiced cheery customer service voice.

[sequinsmile-x]

Thankful

Aaron invites Emily to Thanksgiving, and things change between them forever.

-x-

Hi besties <3

This years Thanksgiving fic is a little earlier this year because Thanksgiving is the SGW anniversary so I am posting chapter 80 on Thursday to mark it!!

Happy Thanksgiving to those who celebrate, and if you're about to have a really hard couple of days with family I am holding more space for you than queer Twitter is for the lyrics of defying gravity.

Here's a little getting together fic for you all, and as always let me know what you think <3

-x-

Warnings: None

Words: 3.6k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Aaron groans and drops his pen to his desk, his fingers pressed into his temples as he looks back and forth between his completed pile of paperwork and what he has left to do. He shakes his head, trying to rid himself of the headache he can feel building behind his eyes, and he blows out a breath. 

“Coffee,” he mumbles to himself as he stands up and grabs his mug. He smiles and nods at Derek as he steps out of his office, and he walks past Emily and JJ’s empty desks. He spots them standing in the kitchenette, both of their backs turned to him, and he’s about to call out and make them aware he’s there, but he comes to a stop when he hears their conversation. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to come to ours for Thanksgiving? Henry would love it, and Will makes enough food to feed the whole street anyway.” 

Emily shakes her head, “It’s okay, I promise,” she replies, “I’m going to my mother’s. Part of my attempt to make good with her again after the whole faking my death thing.”

Aaron doesn’t have to see her face to know it’s a lie. Her relationship with her mother was still tense, at best, and he knew they barely spoke to each other. He’d offered to be a buffer of some sort, to go with her to see her mother - something he saw as his responsibility since her fake death had been his decision - but she’d turned him down. Her smile soft and appreciative as she told him she wouldn’t want to put him through that, her hand on his arm as he sucked in a breath and pretended that a simple touch from her combined with the smell of her perfume didn’t have him under her spell. 

He couldn’t remember when he fell in love with her. It had snuck up on him, his feelings for her shifting from mistrust to friendship to more so slowly that it felt as natural to him as breathing. His love for her so much a part of him he didn’t know what he’d be without it anymore. He couldn’t remember when he fell in love with her, but he remembered when he realised. A familiar pit in his stomach as he stood over her grave that he’d felt at Haley’s funeral, the same suit heavy on his shoulders as he threw a rose on top of her empty coffin - the only flower he’d ever given her. 

He told himself when she was in Paris that he’d do whatever was necessary to bring her home, that one day he’d get a chance to tell her that he loved her. Or at the very least, ask her out on a date. The reality of her return was different. She was a shell of herself, lost in the ruins of who she had once been - a feeling he was all too familiar with - and he knew there was very little she could take on top of the day-to-day of figuring out who she was now. He did his best to be there for her in the way that she’d let him, his support silent at first. Eventually, he knew he had to say something, worried that he’d lose her entirely if he didn’t, and they came to their agreement that she’d tell him when she had a bad day. 

It had restarted whatever closeness they’d had before Doyle. She would spend evenings and her Saturdays with him and Jack. She’d sit on the sidelines of the little boy’s soccer games and cheer for him, her smile as close to hers as Aaron had seen it since just before everything went to hell. Any thought or attempt at telling her how he felt about her had taken a backseat, and he knew that he’d simply be her friend forever if that’s what she needed from him. 

He clears his throat, feeling bad for eavesdropping, and they both turn to look at him, Emily’s smile slightly mischievous, “Sorry, Hotch.” 

He suppresses a smile and reaches behind her to grab the coffee pot, “That’s okay, Prentiss.” 

Outside of work, they only ever called each other by their first name, but they made a point of using surnames at work. They’d exchange a smirk as they did so and it had become a joke of sorts between them. 

JJ scoffs and rolls her eyes at them, “Everyone knows you’re friends, you know,” she says, smiling before she turns to leave, throwing another comment over her shoulder as she walks away, “It’s okay if you guys call each other by your first names in front of the rest of us from time to time.” 

Emily chuckles and shakes her head at JJ as she walks away, “We’ve been rumbled.” 

He hums as he puts the coffee pot back down, “Speaking of being rumbled…” he starts, and she raises her eyebrow at him in response, “You’re spending Thanksgiving at your mother’s?” 

She scrunches her nose up at him, “You heard that?” 

“I did,” he says, hiding his smile behind his mug, “You didn’t want to go to JJ’s?” 

She blows out a breath and looks around, making sure they are still alone, and she shrugs as she looks back at him, “This might sound awful, but I’m not sure I want to spend the day with them being an adorable happy family.”

“That doesn’t sound awful,” he assures her, “Sometimes the holidays just remind us…” 

“Of what we don’t have,” she finishes for him before she sighs and smiles sadly “So I will be perfectly happy eating an entire pan of homemade mac and cheese to myself and hanging out with Sergio.” 

Later, he’d wonder why he says what he says next. He isn’t sure if it’s the sadness she’s trying to hide from him, his love for her, or the thought of her spending a holiday alone, or even a combination of all three, but he finds himself talking before he really thinks about it.

“You could come over and spend the day with us if you’d like.” 

She shakes her head, already ready to argue with him, “Oh, I couldn’t intrude.” 

“It’s not intruding if I invite you,” he says, “Plus, I can promise no happy families. It’s me, Jack, Jess and her and Haley’s dad Roy who does not like me,” he smiles in a way he usually wouldn’t in the office, drawn in by her and the surprised laugh she breathes out, “So if anything, you’d be doing me a favour.”

She presses her lips together and looks at him curiously, and for a moment he’s sure she’s going to turn him down, but instead, she nods, her lips pressed together as she clears her throat, “Okay. That…that sounds nice. I’ll be here.” 

“Good,” he says, trying to tamper down his excitement, “Jack will be so excited - we all know you’re his favourite person.” 

She smiles, “Need me to bring anything?” 

“Maybe that homemade mac and cheese you were talking about?” 

She nods, “Okay,” she smiles at him, her lips pressed together as if she is holding something back, and then she clears her throat again, “I should go do some work.”

He nods, “I hear your boss is a bit of a tyrant.” 

She chuckles and shrugs, throwing him a wink before she walks away, “He’s not all bad.” 

___

She almost turns around and goes home. 

She finds herself standing on his doorstep, a casserole dish full of Mac and Cheese balancing on one of her hands and a bottle of wine tucked up under her arm, wondering why she’d agreed to this. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to spend the day with Aaron and Jack, it was her favourite thing to do, but spending Thanksgiving with them, a day for families and spending time with those you love, was enough to make her ache. 

She loved them in a way she wasn’t sure she had a right to. 

She’d loved Jack the moment she met him. He was adorable and cranky in Haley’s arms as she walked into the office looking for Aaron, his cries at least in part coming from him picking up on his mother’s bad mood. Emily offered to take Jack for a few minutes when Haley tried to pretend she wasn’t furious as she looked up at Aaron’s office, and she’d been slightly surprised when she took her up on it. She’d sat at her desk for a few minutes with Jack in her lap and it was enough time for her to be completely charmed by him. Her love for him had grown with her relationship with him, and he was without a doubt one of the most important people in her life. Happiness and joy all rolled up into the smile of a 6-year-old boy who had already survived so much more than he should have. 

Her love for Aaron was different. It had come out of nowhere, hit her like a truck as she stepped into his apartment and found him missing and his blood on the carpet. It was something she’d shoved down, something she’d pretended wasn’t there, and she’d been there for him as his world fell apart around him. There were times when she thought he might feel the same way too, fleeting moments when their eyes would meet and maybe felt as close to definitely as it ever had. Then Doyle happened. Tearing her sense of self apart for a second time, and she was glad there was nothing more between her and Aaron that would have put him in danger. 

Since she came home they’d become closer again, any initial awkwardness gone as quickly as it had appeared, and sometimes she’d find him looking at him like he used to again. She wanted more with him, with him and Jack - to be part of an actual family for the first time in her life - but she wasn’t sure she was enough for them anymore. 

She wasn’t sure if she’d ever get back to the Emily that Aaron may have once loved. 

She’s drawn out of herself when the door to the apartment is torn open, and she looks up to meet Aaron’s eyes. A smile on his face that only seemed to exist in the confines of his home, a soft side of him that belongs to his son that he would let her see too. 

“Hi,” he says, taking the casserole dish from her, “Happy Thanksgiving.”

She chuckles, “Happy Thanksgiving,” she tilts her head at him curiously, “How did you know I was out here? I didn’t knock.” 

He steps back to let her into the apartment, “I saw you standing out here. I knew if I let you think about it any longer you’d leave.” 

She presses her lips together and nods, “Sometimes I worry you know me a little too well.” 

He laughs and puts the mac and cheese down on the kitchen counter, “I don’t think that’s possible,” he smiles over at Jessica who is standing in the kitchen and cooking, “Jess, you remember Emily.” 

Jessica nods, “Happy Thanksgiving, Emily.” 

“Happy Thanksgiving,” she says, “Everything smells amazing.” 

Jack interrupts them before they can say anything else. He runs down the hall from his bedroom, throwing himself into Emily’s arms, “Emmy!”

“Hi Jack,” she says, hugging him close as she kisses his forehead before she pulls back, “Happy Thanksgiving.”

“You too,” he smiles, “I was just showing Grandpa the train set you got me for my birthday.” 

Emily looks up and smiles at a man she’d only seen briefly once before at his daughter’s funeral. She didn’t have to be good at what she did to see the way Roy looks at her, followed by the way he looks at Aaron. Distrust and a hint of anger in his eyes that feels misplaced. It makes her shackles rise, her grip on Jack in her arms tightening as she slips on a mask she’d had for as long as she could remember. One that had grown with her since she was the same age as the little boy in her arms. 

She paints on a smile and adjusts her hold on Jack, holding one hand out to Roy for him to shake, “Nice to meet you, Mr Brooks.” 

He hums and looks down at her hand before he steps past her to get a drink from the kitchen, “You’re Aaron’s friend.” 

She narrows her eyes as he turns his back and then she catches Aaron’s gaze, sees the I told you he hates me shining in his eyes, and she clears her throat, ready to protect the man she loves from anything, even his ex-father-in-law. 

“Yes,” she says, her smile as polite as it could be, “I am.”

___

Dinner is hard work. 

She has to stop herself from interjecting each time Roy says something passive-aggressive, or occasionally downright aggressive, to Aaron. The only things that stop her are the fact that Jack is in the room and that she’s sure Aaron wouldn’t appreciate her inserting herself into complicated family affairs. 

By the time Jessica and Roy leave, she can’t help but wonder how such a horrid man had raised two such wonderful women. It feels unkind, especially when she acknowledges what he has lost, but it sticks in her mind. How he’s so obviously lost in his own grief that he’s taking it out on those around him, specifically Aaron, without acknowledging what he’d lost too. Or that he was the father of his grandson, the absolute hero of his grandson, and that if he carried on down the path he was taking Jack would only grow to resent him for treating his father that way as he gets older. 

She blows out a breath and sinks further into Aaron’s couch, glass of wine in hand, and she smiles at the sound of chattering coming from Jack’s bedroom down the hall. She closes her eyes and imagines a world where this was her life. Where she sat here every evening listening to her Hotchner boys talk to each other, or snuggled between them on the couch every night. 

She opens her eyes when she hears the bedroom door opening and she smiles at Aaron as he walks towards her, “He okay?” 

Aaron nods as he sits down, “He’s okay. Holidays are hard - he misses Haley.” 

“You both do,” she says, smiling softly at him.“It’s okay to miss her even though you weren't together anymore when she died. You’ve known her most of your life,” she reaches out for him, her hand on his arm before she can think about it, “It’s okay to miss her.”

He nods, blowing out a slow breath, chuckling humourlessly as he reaches for his glass of wine on the coffee table, grateful when her hand doesn’t slip away from his arm, her palm warm against his skin “And you say I know you too well.” 

She hums, “I don’t think that’s possible,” she smiles when he does at her repetition of his words earlier that day, “Can I ask you something?” 

“Always.” 

There’s something so honest about the way he says it that it surprises her for a moment, stealing the breath from her lungs as she smiles at him, “Has Roy always been like that with you?” 

“Standoffish?” 

“I was going to go for rude,” she mutters, “But yeah. Has he always been like that?” 

He sighs and sinks back against the couch, a lifetime of memories hitting him all at once as he thinks about the man who had never quite liked him, but never used to hate him like he did now. 

“He was never really a fan of mine,” he answers, turning his head to look at her, “But Haley loved me and he loved her so he…put up with me. Then when we got divorced he stopped pretending.” 

She clenches her jaw, desperate to keep her words back long enough so she can make sure they’re measured. She was used to controlling her feelings for him around him but this felt different, the need to protect him so strong she felt it thumping alongside her heart in his chest. 

“Still, you’re Jack’s dad, and his only parent,” she has a sip of wine, “He should show you the respect you deserve.” 

“To him, this is the respect I deserve. After all, I’m the reason his daughter is dead.” 

He only realises he’s said it outloud when she gasps, an intake of breath that she can’t stop as her eyes go wide. He knows he wouldn’t say it in front of anyone else but she had this way of flaying him open, of tearing him apart at the seams where he’d sewn himself back together, and he could never quite figure out if he liked it or not. 

Being entirely known by someone was a privilege, but it was a vulnerability too, and it had been so long since he’d let someone get this close to him. 

“Aaron…” she chokes out, leaning forward to place her glass of wine down on the table, “You…you don’t believe that do you?” 

“I…” he trails off, placing his glass of wine next to hers before he turns, his knee knocking against hers the first indication he gets of how close she is to him now, “Sometimes.” 

She isn’t sure if she wants to yell at him or hug him. Or both. Fierce protectiveness of him rolling through her again, even though it was him that she wanted to protect him from. She reaches out for him, and she hesitates for a second, her hand frozen in the air, before she cups his cheek and makes him look at her. 

“It isn’t your fault,” she says, her eyes searching his, “The man whose fault it is died. He’s dead. You…you’re the reason your son is alive, and thriving and the happiest kid I’ve ever met.” She says, and he chuckles, the sound thick as it catches in his chest, “And you always joke I’m his favourite person but it’s you, Aaron. You’re his favourite person. He loves you so much.” 

“I know,” he chokes out, leaning into the warmth of her palm against his cheek, trying to commit it all to memory for when it would come to an end, “Usually I can rationalise it. I know it’s not my fault. But...It’s just hard to remember sometimes.” 

“I know,” she replies, smiling sadly when their eyes meet, “Better than most.” 

They sit like that, in their half embrace with her hand against his cheek, staring at each other, and for a moment she thinks about leaning in, about pressing her lips against his and kissing him, but she stops herself. Her bravery snuffed out as quickly as it had ignited, not entirely sure she could take the leap unless she knew he wanted to jump with her too. 

She pulls back abruptly, leaving his cheek cold as her hand slips to her lap and she clears her throat. “I should get going. Thanks for having me.” 

Aaron frowns and stands up at the same time she does, “Em-”

“Sergio will be waiting for me,” she says, cutting him off as she walks towards the front door, “He is grumpy when I don’t-”

“Emily,” he says, firmer this time, stopping her from getting any further away by standing in front of her, “What’s wrong?” 

She shakes her head, “If I have to say it, I’ve misread a lot over the years and I am really bad at my job.” 

He sucks in a breath, and he knows it’s now or never, that if he lets her leave it would be over before it could even start. They were at a crossroads, two paths laid out in front of them, and he knew there was only one that he wanted to walk.

And it was the one where she’d be right by his side. 

He steps forward, making it so there’s no space between them, and he tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear. He sucks in a breath at the same time she does, and their eyes meet for a second before he leans in, her lips soft against his. It’s everything and more than they’d both imagined over the years, a moment in time and one that would last forever, drawing out around them like the finest of thread as they moved forward together. Everything they could, and would have, leading back to this one kiss. 

When she pulls back she rests her forehead against his, her lips pressed together before she licks them, chasing the taste of him on her skin, “So,” she says, chuckling breathlessly, “I wasn’t misreading anything.”

He shakes his head and pulls back to look at her, both of his arms wrapped around her to keep her in place, “Em, I…”

She nods and rests her forehead against his again, “I know,” she cups the back of his head, her nails scratching against his scalp, “I know.” 

They stand there, pressed against each other as they breathe each other in, the acknowledgement of everything else there was left to say, and he chuckles and pulls back to look at her, “Would it be cheesy for me to say this is something I’m thankful for?” 

She laughs, the sound wet as it catches on a sob and she nods, making her forehead knock against his, “Yes,” she says, wrapping her arms around his neck and dragging him into a kiss, “But I’ll let it slide this once.” 

She doesn’t have to say that she’s thankful too, because he already knows. 

[asinglemagpie]

It is going to be a mess.

I figure Kevin will be doing most of the talking at Jean's request, but the interviewer gets sick of it and basically tells Kevin to let Jean get a word in edgeways - making Kevin look like he's hogging the limelight (and not protecting his friend). I can see that really shaking Kevin's confidence, especially because he won't know how to protect Jean from questions without proving the interviewer's point.

Jean will no doubt say something that is wildly misconstrued, or is so blunt that it cannot be taken any other way.

I do think that Kevin's comment about never skiing is going to come back and bite them hard. Kevin will be stuck between trying to play coy and telling the truth. Coy and he's hiding something - the truth and he's smearing Riko's name. Jean will likely get pissed off with the line of questioning and either shut it down rudely, or just tell the truth for him. Bonus points if he takes off his shirt and shows them what Riko did to him because that would stop anyone dead in their questioning.

(Bonus bonus points for "If you do not believe me, have Neil tell you the truth about his 'trial run' over Christmas last year." This would not only be damning about Riko, but would also upset the "truths" they just gave the FBI.)

I don't think one of them will slip up and say that Riko was killed, I think they're not going to let that slip, because that's an immediate death sentence. There would be no way Nora could write them out of that that would be believable.

I also don't think that Jean's family coming under investigation re: Nathan Wesninski will come up. I don't think that the FBI would just let that information get leaked. I don't think that France extradites citizens to the US so there wouldn't be any "international arrest news" to derail things, and unless France is interested in arresting and trying the Moreau faction and trying them there, there's not a whole ton that could come up in the news to clash with things. (BUT this is also a piece of fiction, Nora could change how that works for the sake of the story, and that's perfectly fine!)

thinking about tgr again