#but she can hold her own in a conversation

[softness-and-shattering]

And in places where you personally are sure women can dress masculine with no consequences, people are fighting authority figures to wear a suit instead of a dress, to wear pants or shorts instead of skirts, to wear well made clothes instead of the worsely made 'girl' version with thin fabric and unfinished seams and frilly bits on top. Women are being told they have to wear heels, they have to wear makeup, lool pretty, look sexy, this is just the dress code. Its not just weirdos in religious cults or strange countries far away, its literally your neighbours and coworkers and aquaintances. What world do you live in where womanhood is not constantly in conversation with expectations of what it means to be a woman, what it means to be feminine, what standards youre expected to live up to and how much youre willing to risk or sacrifice for how you want to present yourself? What world are you living in where cis guys arent still telling women what they find attractive like it should be law, that parents arent heavily policing what their daughters wear? Cant be too masculine or too private, cant be too sexy, youre either a whore a prude and theres no way out.

Cause this ties back into "trans men are traitors to women for adopting maaculinity in order to dodge the patriarchy". That only follows logically if you ignore how much women and assumed-women have impossible standards and expectations placed on them about how to be as people. Theres no embrace masculinity get out of jail free card. Its not treated as acceptable for an qssumed woman to properly embrace masculinity. The whole makeover trope is about making someone non conforming into a paragon of gender rules. Now youre not ugly anymore. Now you wear proper heels and dresses. Now you wear makeup and style your hair to school every day and are on top of all the latest fashions. This is aspirational this is how to be a girl. You werent being a girl right before.

And look at how some guys react to fictional women. Teenage she-ra was too boyish and not sexy enough but then wonder woman wasnt both sexy AND buff enough, the latest is Ciri looking gorgeous in the witcher 4 trailer but shes scowling and dirty and somewhat realistic looking so people have to complain and make their own version where shes yassified to hell and back bevause thats what a woman should look like to them. Elle from the last of us iirc they got super mad that she just looked like a person rather than super femimine and dolled up. This happens every time theres a woman protagonist of a major media franchise, these are just the first ones that came to mind.. And yeah these guys are losers, and theyre also dads and uncles and brothers and boyfriends and husbands and bosses and managers who hold some amount of power over the women in their lives.

And remember there was a whole thing about hillary clinton and her pantsuits? Too masculine. Thats like, against the rules of the feminism.

I do want to note that the whole "women are allowed to dress masculine and wear trousers" thing needs to be viewed in its historical context:

People fought for generations to be allowed to dress that way. They fought hard to be allowed to wear pants. Blue jeans were a symbol of feminist revolution. Women were barred from workplaces and schools for wearing them.

This is not some a natural fact that women dressing masculine is less shocking and humiliating. That normalization was fought for and hard-won.

And yet so many people erase the struggles of those people who fought to make that happen and pretend that it's just normal and natural that people don't see women "dressed like men" as ridiculous.

The Marriage of Figaro has what's called a "breeches role" which is a woman wearing men's clothes playing am ale role. This was done partly due to the vocal range requirements, but in many cases it was done comedically. It was risque and sexualized or comic relief that a woman was dressed as a man.

Anti-suffragette posters mock women wearing pants - well they were bloomers and split skirts back then - and mocking more masculine cut styles of clothes. This was meant to portray this as ridiculous.

They mocked the "new woman" in Weimar Germany, lamenting that they were too masculine.

This is a political cartoon from the 1920s depicting a woman in masculine dress deciding which bathroom to use:

Sorry but you're erasing these struggles and flattening history when you say this shit.

Women were killed and institutionalized in the struggle to make this happen. It really fucking bothers me the way it's framed as "people just don't find it as weird when women dress masculine."

Yes they fucking did. Until women and transmasculine people fought for their right to wear what they want. It's normalized because people struggled to normalize it.

And it's not normal everywhere. There are many countries where it's still illegal for women to wear pants. Sudan, Saudi Arabia.

Even in the US, it's forbidden and considered ridiculous in groups like the FLDS, the Amish, and the Hutterites.

We are flattening and erasing the struggles of women when we say these things. I know we're trying to build theory here but you can't build solid theory on a foundation of lies.

[hypernova-writes]

Meant To Be

Pairing: Older!Scout x Reader.

Synopsis: You and Scout have recently started dating again after not seeing each other in years. You're helping him set up Christmas, and caring for the children...with a surprise for your boyfriend as well~

A/N: HAPPY HOLIDAYS EVERYONNNEEE you all have made the second half of this year very special for me!! I joined this fandom in July thanks to my friend and I've had a wonderful time so far!! I can't wait to see what the future holds <3 hope you enjoy~!

"JR! No come back here!"

Childish giggles filled the house as you chased Jeremy's youngest, Jr around trying to make sure he was properly dressed before Scout's Ma came. She was coming to spend time with her grandkids since Jeremy already hosted the mercs on the 24th.

You finally caught up to the little runner and swept him up into your arms, kissing him on the cheek and making him squeal as you placed him down.

You watched as he ran to tackle one of his sisters as you feel Jeremy wrap his arms around you.

"You're doing so good Babydoll..Such a good momma.."

You chuckle as he sways with you in his arms. His face in the crook of your neck.

The two of you had been dating for a year after rekindling with each other, with you having retired before the rest of the mercs. You and Jeremy were always close, and played around with dating before but now that you were older, you two wanted to make it official.

Jeremy chuckled as he watched his two oldest run by before he places his hand on your lower stomach.

"I can't wait til we can have one of our own Dollface..they'll look just like you, and I'd love them all the same.."

You smile softly and turn in his arms, kissing his cheek, then his lips, hearing a chorus of 'ews' come from the children who were peeking around the corner.

Jeremy was about to playfully scold them before there was a knock at the door. The kids all went scampering towards the door yelling "GRANDMAAA!!"

Cathyrn barely had time to make it through the door, as all 7 of her grandkids were attached to her. She giggles as she shuffled through the small crowd of children before coming over and kissing Jeremy on the forehead, then pulled you into a hug.

"Ahh! You two are so cute together~! Jer! You better keep this one, I like her alot."

Jeremy smirks as he wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you close to his body. "..I plan on it Ma! She's my world..and I let her go once.." He leans so that your heads were touching.

"And I'm not lettin' her go ever again. She's perfect."

You blush bashfully and avert your gaze from your boyfriend which only made his Mom giggle.

"Well come on! I brought gifts for the kiddos and you two!"

You all head into the living room where Cathryn handed gifts to all of the children, you sat on the couch with Jeremy watching as the kids happily squealed and started playing with the toys gifted to them by their grandma.

You motion for Cathryn to hand you a small from under the tree with Jeremy's name on it. Jeremy seemed to have the same idea, as he got up, excusing himself to get your gift.

You carried on a conversation with Cathryn, who was holding Jr, who was playing with a stuffed animal that she gave him. The two of you talked until Jeremy came back in.

"Ahh Babes. Can you close ya eyes for me? I want this to be a surprise."

You looked to Cathryn, then smiled, closing your eyes as he asked.

Hearing him shuffle, before he cleared his throat and spoke. "Hey..you can open your eyes now."

When you opened your eyes, you gasped as your hands flew to your mouth, "Oh..Jeremy..."

Jeremy was down on one knee, that same adorable smile that you loved on his face, with a ring in his hand.

"Listen..(Y/n). I was naive then, I let you go, but now that I have you now. I don't even want to let you go.."

He rubbed the back of his neck nervously before finishing:

"Will you marry me?"

You nodded happily, holding out your hand so he could slip the ring on your finger. You pulled him into a tight hug and rocked him from side to side for a bit.

His mother, who was moved to tears wiped them away as she smiles at her son. "Oh Jer..I just know you two are gonna be so happy together.."

Jeremy chuckles as he pulls away from your hug, and tilts his head. "Soooo, how about your gift babe? Whatcha got for me?"

You giggle as you grabbed the box from beside you, before holding it out to him.

He takes it from your hands, being slow to pull the bow off of it before he opened it. Inside?

A positive pregnancy test.

Jeremy froze for a bit and it concerned his mom before her showed the box to her.

"Oh (Y/n)! Youre-!" She clapped her hands excitedly as Jeremy pulled you into a tight hug, buring his head into the crook of your neck.

You wrapped your arms around him and rubbed his back, was he..crying?

"Baby? Are you crying?..."

"Hell yea I'm crying! You..You..you just became my wife..and gave me another kid! These are tears of joy!"

Jeremy pulls you into another kiss before turning to the kids and clearing his throat.

"Alright! Everyone! From now on, (Y/n) is staying with us..and..you're getting a new sibling!"

It took the kids a minute to process but they soon exploded into cheers and all of them came running over to You, you did your best to hug them all as Jeremy looked down at you.

"Thank you Babe.."

"No need, Jer..you said it before..we were meant for each other..now we're expanding our family.."

"Yea..we are..— wait! Jr no! Don't eat that!! That's an ornament! Ma! Get him!"

"I got him!"

You chuckle as you watch your new Mother in law and your future husband chase around the 3 year old.

You had a family, your not so little family.

With the one you were always meant to be with.

Happy Holidays!!! 💞

[cheshiresense]

Ok so I've actually gotten several asks about what Starrk's relationship with Unohana/the Fourth is/was like, but I don't have time atm to get into it, but I also want to toss out some of my headcanons about it because I've thought about it a lot, so I'll just list out a few headcanons in no particular order and get back to those asks later.

- First of all, Unohana is actually super protective of Starrk, but in a way that just confuses and/or scares people. Like she’s the sort to say dead serious no joke “my lieutenant is a gentle soul, you will answer to me if you upset him” while Starrk’s murdering his way across a battlefield and his reiatsu is eating a bunch of people for lunch 😂😂

- Unohana never thought she even had any protective instincts but Starrk just brings it out in her. At her age, with her experience, she can better sense just how old he actually is, just as she can sense-smell the amount of blood on him, so she knows he's lived a long time and killed a lot of people. But she can also tell he's not like her, he doesn't enjoy that sort of thing—when he kills, it's probably either because he has no choice or because he does it out of a sense of duty to whatever it is he believes in enough to fight for. Case in point, literally no one as powerful as she knows Starrk to be would choose to enter the Fourth with an honest interest in learning even more about healing than he already does. He's patient with even the weakest unseated Shinigami, and Unohana no longer has to personally come running every time the Eleventh decides to stop by to harass her officers because Starrk is there to stonewall them at the gates. But at the same time, the grief and loneliness she can sense in his reiatsu makes her want to shed blood because it never goes away. He can coax the shyest officers out of their shells with that no-pressure-calm he's constantly radiating, and for all that he'd prefer a nap over conversation any day of the week, he's also indulgent with members of his own squad when they ask him questions about a lecture or for a spar when he has time. He's reliable and steady and everything the Fourth needs him to be, with a reserved personality and a long-suffering air about him but careful hands and an even more careful mind in everything he does. And yet, hidden beneath all that, Unohana has never met anyone so constantly, miserably tired all the time. So yes, in her opinion, Starrk is a gentle, even fragile soul. She doesn't know - yet - what broke him so badly, but he's also hers now—she chose him, and he chose her, and she doesn't think she's imagining the way the Fourth feels stronger and stabler with his presence, with the easy way he shoulders the weight of a division right alongside her, with how their subordinates walk around with more confidence too in response to having two monsters watching over them now. For his competence as her second-in-command alone, she would've shielded him from anyone who upset him. But for the way he follows her around, genuinely eager to learn; for the way he sits with the younger officers and answers their questions and shows them new Kidou spells and treats them to snacks and protects them on missions; for the way he can stare down her Bankai without flinching and only grumble afterwards about how he deserves a week of sleep for such a hard spar but never even bat an eye when she reaches out to heal him with the very hands that had done their level best to rip him apart for several hours only minutes earlier; for the way he can give back just as good as he gets and allows her the chance to let herself off her own self-made leash every few weeks without having to hold back—for all of that and more, she would challenge anyone who dares try and force him to draw his blade against his will or break him any further than he already has been.

- I headcanon that for students who want to enter the Fourth, they have to take a separate written exam before they graduate. Results aren't great because there isn't actually much of a medical track at the Academy, plus it's generally considered uncool to end up at the Fourth, so there aren't many who would even take the exam, and of those who do, most can't even finish the entire thing, and minimum pass percentage is probably something like 50% lmao. At this point, it's less an exam and more an assessment of where the student is at so the Fourth's seated officers can sort the newcomers more easily when they have to start them on the basics. Then along comes Starrk who not only finishes the entire exam but also gets everything right, and it catches Unohana's attention enough to get her to make the trip to the Academy to speak to Starrk herself just to find out more, and the more she finds out, the more she thinks she'll finally be able to name a lieutenant with the kind of standards she's always wanted to be able to measure them by. At the end of the impromptu interview, she asks one more question—she asks him if he'd be willing to take one more test and become her official student. The lieutenant seat is his either way, but she's never had a personal student before. She won't be teaching him from scratch, which is a shame��someone with potential and a learning curve like Starrk's should've been scooped up long ago. But there's also more than just medical Kidou and surgical procedures she can pass on to him, and he may be a gentle soul, but he's a gentle soul with something he fiercely wants to protect, and that means there are other things she can teach him. He says yes, and that day, on the day they meet for the first time in any timeline, in a training room deep beneath the Academy, all seals activated for both privacy and containment, and even then they'd barely held—Unohana unseals her Bankai for the first time in centuries, and Starrk weathers every blow with the unyielding bedrock found beneath mountains and deserts and canyons and oceans, timeworn but timeless and enduring all the same. In the aftermath, both of them bleeding from multiple wounds with a good chunk of their reiatsu depleted, she thinks, yes, this one will be mine. He is strong enough to stand with me, tempered enough to be unafraid of me, old enough to have experienced the worst the world can offer, and wise enough to accept and bear it. And yet he remains... soft, at heart. Kind, in a way I do not fully understand, but it is precious nonetheless. It is something that should be protected. He is someone I can protect, so he will be mine.

- She'd prob also be like "let's get this signed and sealed before the old coot catches wind of another dual-wielding Shinigami and thinks he has first dibs just because he got the other two" 😂

- She would 1000% give Shunsui a shovel talk. It's probably the most terrifying shovel talk anyone has ever received in living memory ganbaa shunsui be brave you can do it.

- As for Starrk, he adores the fuck out of Unohana. But he’s also constantly baffled by how she kind of mothers him sometimes, in really off-putting ways (to others) but he doesn't realize that. Like the first time he goes out on a not-a-date with Shunsui, Unohana will be like "I wrote a dissertation called 101 Ways to Sterilize a Man, please read it over, I require urgent feedback" all while staring gloomy-eyed straight at a sweating Shunsui from behind Starrk's back because she'd watched this brat grow up, so she knows his skirt-chasing tendencies better than most, knows the way he likes beautiful people, likes flirting with them and charming them, likes the novelty of a new relationship and the thrill of the chase, and so she also knows the way it always ends with broken hearts but hardly ever his own. At most, he'll pout for a few days or a few weeks and mope and whine to Ukitake, and then he'll move on. He's always earnest and genuine in the moment, treats his lovers with all the respect and affection in the world when they're together, but he bores easily, and for all that he plays a good game of being open and friendly and approachable, Unohana has rarely met anyone more guarded when it comes to matters of the heart than Kyouraku Shunsui. He'd grown out of genuinely pursuing people in more recent decades, goes through the motions but no longer seems very interested in romance or even short dalliances, mostly only flirts these days with his long-time female acquaintances who all know better, but it would be easy for him to fall back into old habits. If he dares to be as careless with Starrk's heart as he'd been with previous lovers, Unohana won't stop until the Eighth Division will require a new captain.

- Starrk totally calls Unohana Shishou-san eventually. He has a thing for nicknames. Shunsui is of course Taichou-san. Shiina is Sensei-san. Unohana is Shishou-san. One person per category. It's an odd quirk of his.

[please-destroy]

The 26th of December

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word Count 4k

.

You first met at the Shield base. She was ahead of you in the cafeteria line.

Natasha was alone. You’d never seen her before and you guessed she was a new agent. She was slightly jittery. She held herself unnaturally still but her eyes darted around the room. Barely noticeable, but you caught it. 

Her red hair was tied back in two perfect braids, her pale face was fresh except for dark shadows under her eyes. You stood next to her in the line, holding a plastic tray and feeling like a school-child all over again. 

Natasha held an apple in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. Her grip made the plastic crackle. 

‘You know, it’s not so bad here.’ You mused aloud after a minute, enjoying the way her head whipped around at the sound of your voice.

Her breath hitched and then she regained herself. You watched her expression move immediately from panic to calm. You took note of the emotional control. Not a typical rookie agent. 

‘Maybe for you. They’re training me with Robin Hood.’ She answered after a beat.

‘Oh.’ You pretended to consider. ‘Well then, I guess you’re fucked.’

Her answering laugh rasped through you like an electric current.

.

You ended up sitting at the same table,whilst you ate. Natasha was a mix of conflicting signals. Her smile was easy but it rarely reflected in her eyes. Her shoulders were loose, but her posture was stiff.

She ate her apple slowly. You tried to make small talk between bites of your own meal. You started to hear the trace of a Russian accent in her short responses. 

Natasha was down to the apple core before she told you anything about herself. Even then, it was just fragments. She’d made a deal with Agent Barton, she’d held up her end of the bargain, now she was here.

You didn’t press for more details. You didn’t think you could.

Instead, you pushed your plate to the centre of the table and gestured to the untouched fries.

‘Well.’ You said lightly. ‘Maybe this ridiculous place can be your home.’

Natasha’s lips twisted into something too complicated to be a smile.  

‘I don’t think I know what home is.’

You glanced at her hand, sneaking to grab a fry. You grinned.

‘Don’t worry.’ You promised. ‘It’s not that complicated.’

.

Conversation with Natasha was like trying to fill in a blank sheet of paper. Sometimes, you felt like your threw conversation topics into the air, trying to guess what she wanted to talk about.

It was easy to spend time with her. Despite different routines and training, you made a habit of eating together.

The habit became easy.

Every mealtime, you found yourselves together at the same time and same place. 

.

Through her first months at Shield, you watched Natasha’s demeanour change. 

Her smile became easy with others. She didn’t tense up in crowds anymore. When your friends came occasionally to sit at your table, she always seemed to welcome the company. You couldn’t tell for sure if she liked them but she never seemed to hesitate when she found herself in a group. 

She definitely preferred socialising with you there. You knew she’d declined a few bigger get-togethers with other agents. 

You thought maybe she liked that you’d known her so long. Longer than anyone except Agent Barton.

Her eyes sparkled whenever she started talking about an inside joke between the two of you. If people were around, she’d meet your gaze daring you to share the story behind it.

Your mind still lingered on what she’d said about home, on the first day that you'd met her.

You wondered what she thought about it now.

.

Every so often, you’d catch the mask slipping. A wince after training, when she sat down at the table. A worried expression that smoothed itself immediately into an easy smile. A momentary stormy look aimed at nothing in particular.

The shadows that lingered under her eyes, darkening and fading with a cyclicality that worried you. 

Sometimes, she’d steal a piece of food from your plate and give you a look too fatigued to be playful.

It was after one of those looks that you invited her back to your rooms at the Shield base.

You had to finish some work, you told her, but you’d like the company anyway.

It felt obvious, like a natural next step that should’ve happened months ago.

You couldn’t help lighting up inside when she said yes. 

.

That evening you typed on your laptop from the sofa, enjoying absentmindedly Natasha's exploration of your space. Her casualness was undercut by tiny hesitations. 

She wandered in and out your kitchen like she was on a guided tour, you heard muffled noises and knew she was rustling through your rarely used spice rack. She wandered back through to your living room, and you tried not to smile obviously when she touched the edge of your fluffy rug experimentally with her foot. She studied the cushions on your sofa and the house plant by the door. You watched her finger trail down the spines of several books on your bookshelf. 

Every time she moved on from something, you waited for her to finally settle. To sit next to you on the sofa, to switch on the TV, or start to talk. 

It was when you heard the rubber duck squeak in your bathroom, that you finally understood. Why would she know how to make herself at home?

‘Natasha.’ You called, looking up from your laptop screen. Natasha’s head popped around a doorway.

You smiled automatically and watched her match it with a smile of her own.

‘You know, you can do whatever you want here’ You told her, tone light but still serious. ‘Mi casa es tu casa.’

Natasha rolled her eyes. You knew then that you’d been too forward. You’d acknowledged her discomfort but she hadn’t wanted you to see it in the first place.

You didn’t feel sorry. You meant what you said. You rose from the sofa to make you both some coffee. 

You touched her shoulder with absentminded affection as you walked past. Natasha went still at the action. You turned before you entered the kitchen, wanting to double check if the touch was okay.

You watched Natasha smile secretly down at the ground. She lifted her head, feeling your gaze and rolled her eyes again. Her smile only got stronger. 

You walked into the kitchen feeling lighter than air. When you returned five minutes later, Natasha was sitting cross legged on your floor. 

She gave you a small smirk when you handed her the coffee mug. You sat on the sofa, just to the side of her. You watched silently as she ripped blank pages out of one of your old notebooks. Her fingers worked deftly as she made snowflakes, origami shapes and chains of paper dolls. 

You watched her with a mix of awe and something undefinable. You thought about home. How the definition of it was starting to change for you too.

After some time, you couldn’t help but reach over, picking up the red biro pen that was lying on the coffee table. Natasha startled then relaxed readily, when you moved to sit beside her. She watched as you messily coloured in the hair of the nearest paper doll. The bright red was almost obnoxious.

Natasha elbowed you lightly when you scribbled ‘Romanoff’ on the doll’s dress.

When Natasha left, you hung the paper dolls above the TV.

.

Agent Barton told you about Natasha’s dilemma before she did. You’d never spoken before but when he caught up with you in the hallway, he addressed you by your first name. It took you a moment to realise that he knew exactly who you were. It turned out, Natasha talked a lot about you. 

Natasha’s annual vacation time was mandatory and had to be taken, but she hadn’t booked any of it. Clint didn’t need to explain why. You’d known Natasha for nearly six months now and she’d never spoken about anyone except the people she’d met since joining Shield. 

Clint lay the problem out matter of factly. 

Natasha had nowhere to go and she didn’t seem to want to leave.

It was the easiest solution you’d ever come up with.

.

You found Natasha in weapons training. She was easy to spot with her usual red braid falling down between her shoulder blades. Her arms were raised as she aimed a gun. Ears covered and focus exact. 

She still spotted you almost immediately. 

You waved awkwardly as she lowered her gun and removed her ear defenders. 

‘What are you doing for Christmas?’

Natasha’s head tilted. At first, you thought she hadn’t understood the question. It took a second, before you realised that she didn’t understand why you were asking. She thought it was obvious that she didn’t have plans.

‘Maybe we could rent a place for the vacation time.’ You suggested. ‘We could go somewhere snowier than here.’

Natasha watched you for a long moment and then you watched her lips life into a small smile.

‘I like snow.’ She said at last. 

.

The next few weeks passed slowly. A new anticipation crept into your life. You rented a cabin in the middle of nowhere for the holidays. In theory, it was the perfect background for an idyllic snowy Christmas. Trees surrounded it on three sides, it was one step away from a true nature retreat. 

When you described the vacation home to Natasha. She’d just nodded seriously, like you were giving her a rundown of details for a future mission. You tried not to let her reaction worry you, she was relatively quiet for the rest of the day.

The next day, Natasha joined you for breakfast with obvious intent. Before you'd had time to say hello. Natasha asked you about the clothes and other essentials you were planning to pack. You found yourself head first into a detailed conversation, full of follow up questions about things like the capacity of your car trunk.

It was then, as she nodded seriously to each of your answers, that you realised. Natasha didn't know what to expect.

The realisation made you feel a sudden sense of responsibility and freedom. Natasha had no expectations for what the holiday could be. But she'd still said yes. It was a good feeling to be trusted.

You observed her sitting across the table. Natasha chewed her lower lip as she thought about her next question. Her fork spun thoughtlessly against her plate.

You realised, that everyone in this place knew either Agent Romanoff or the Black Widow.

You were the only one who knew Natasha.

Natasha cleared her throat awkwardly, her voice came out quieter and she leaned forward slightly. 

‘Could we?’ She hesitated. ‘Should we bring fairy lights? Would that be festive?’

You’d never smiled harder in your life.

‘Yeah.’ You agreed enthusiastically, reaching over to pause her fork mid-twirl. ‘That would be amazing.’

You’d once sat opposite a blank page but now Natasha was a watercolour.

.

The vacation time came at last and together you drove away from the Shield base full of anticipation. 

Natasha was silent, her focus turned to the world passing outside the car window. You fiddled with the radio and tried not to overthink her quietness.

Just over an hour into your drive, you realised that her eyes were sparkling. Another quick glance over to her and you saw the small smile hidden on her lips.

You let some of your excitement trickle back in. You switched the radio to Christmas music and watched her hand quietly tap against her thigh.

Natasha was your best friend. She was starting to become your family. 

You felt your heart squeeze with a new happiness when you heard her deep intake of breath as you drove up to the cabin. The wooden exterior was framed with a thousand golden fairy lights. You’d called the rental agency and asked for a favour. You hadn’t been able to resist.

You watched Natasha’s expression as she stepped out of the car. For the first time, any trace of uncertainty was forgotten. Her wide eyes filled with curiosity and excitement. 

Her foot crunched on the frozen ground and her eyes shot to the snow covered forest floor with a muted joy. You laughed and her gaze found you instead. Her red hair was loose and long, she’d combed out her braids during the car ride. It framed her face prettily. 

Natasha rolled her eyes at your expression but then she started to smile widely.

You held up a finger in a silent request for her to wait a minute before you hurried to the trunk of your car. You fished in your bag for a few moments and retrieved a pair of festive felt reindeer antlers. 

Your face hurt from smiling so hard as you walked back and fixed the pair of antlers onto Natasha’s head. Natasha’s bare fingers reached up and traced the soft material. Her expression was undecided and then it relaxed into another bright smile. For the first time, your heart pounded nervously at her proximity. You’d never seen someone look so beautiful. Natasha moved her head and the bells on the antlers tinkled.

‘Come on.’ You murmured, another persistent smile tugging at your lips. ‘You’ll get cold.’

.

The next few days were illuminating. It became clear just how embedded Natasha’s lifestyle was, as you watched her invent and stick to a new regimented schedule. There was something fascinating about how naturally she followed a routine, even with no real pressure to keep it.

Early morning runs, chopping wood for the stove, yoga, completing stolen work assignments, reading spy novels, undertaking thorough research into unusual topics.

Your schedule was something different. Unlike Natasha, you reverted immediately to a more relaxed way of life, happily shaking off the Shield agent lifestyle. 

You woke later in the day, always after the sun had decidedly risen. You scrounged breakfast from the fridge. You let any passing whim decide your day’s activity. A stroll to find a nearby frozen lake, a sudden urge to make gingerbread.

You realised soon enough that Natasha’s busy schedule was really paper thin. It only took an invitation and she was eager to join yours instead. She told you all about her spy novel when she joined you on your rambling walk to find the frozen lake. She told you about trying to run in the snow outside as she helped with the icing for your gingerbread house. 

That was the other thing that you were starting to notice about Natasha. You’d known her for nearly a year now. You knew you liked her company. You could tell she liked yours. You realised that every minute you spent together only made you want a thousand minutes more.

On the third morning, you woke up to the smell of coffee. You opened your eyes readily, you’d been moments from waking up at your usual time anyway. Natasha cleared her throat and you startled before seeing her standing awkwardly in the doorway. She was holding two mugs of coffee, clearly unsure. 

You smiled automatically at the sight of her. Natasha’s shoulders relaxed and she smiled too. Her hair was tied back in a messy ponytail and she was wearing green winter pyjamas, straight from a cheesy catalogue. 

‘Morning.’ You yawned as you sat up.

‘Morning.’ She echoed, handing you the coffee.

‘You’re the best.’ You mumbled happily, taking a sip.

You felt Natasha hesitate, trying to decide if she should leave. You patted the bedspread beside you. It was an easy invitation. Natasha curled up in the space next to you, hands cupping her mug.

‘I like your pyjamas.’ You said with a smirk.

‘Shut up.’ She said dryly, but you could tell she was pleased. 

‘Very festive.’

.

You drank coffee in silence for a few minutes and then you started to talk. 

At first it was light things, another book she’d just read, how cold it was that morning. 

.

Then the conversation shifted. She started to tell you real things.

Pieces of childhood. The way the tree branches bowed over the walls of her childhood home. The deep chill of Russian winters. Her favourite American Christmas movie. Where she’d been when she first saw it. 

You thought about all the light talking she’d been doing this vacation as you passed your days together. You wondered if she’d been trying to find the courage for this. With every smile or nod from you, the words kept coming from Natasha. Difficult things. Happy memories that lived with an undercurrent of sadness.

You felt a lump in your throat listening to her, wishing you could explain how much you liked hearing her talk like that. How much you liked her.

It was all special.

.

That Christmas Eve, you suggested a drive to the nearest town for supplies. Natasha looked confused but she only smiled and agreed. She didn’t mention your full kitchen pantry and stacked fridge, already full to the brim with enough ingredients for a full Christmas dinner.

This time, she didn’t stare out the car window for the journey. Instead, she played with the radio dials until she found a Christmas song to sing along to. Her quiet singing made your chest tight with an overwhelming kind of feeling.

You pulled up outside a second-hand store. Natasha looked even more confused as she read the sign on the store. You dragged her in with you to pick up the order that you’d called ahead to see if they had in stock.

In the car, Natasha held the DVD of her favourite American Christmas movie like it was her first ever present.

You only pulled the car over one other time. The very last Christmas tree left in the parking lot beside the small hardware store was cheap and hard not to take pity on. 

Together that afternoon, you adorned the tree with some fairy lights taken from the outside porch and for the rest of the evening, Natasha made paper decorations. You put on an old CD of Christmas music that you'd found, before sitting next to Natasha and starting one of the spy novels that she'd already told you the entire plot of.

As she made the decorations, Natasha began to sing again.

.

You didn’t swap presents on Christmas Day. 

Natasha had asked you about that weeks before and you’d promised her not to worry. 

It started like the days before it,  Natasha walked into your room with her usual quiet hesitation and two mugs of coffee. She started grinning when she saw you, sitting up and ready with the pair of reindeer antlers already on your head. 

She gave you your mug and curled familiarly into the space beside you.

‘What do you want to do today?’ She asked, the question feeling completely natural after the last week. 

You turned your head towards her and watched Natasha try not to laugh when your antler’s tinkled.

‘I want to see the best Christmas movie that you’ve ever seen.’

Natasha's eyes closed when she smiled in response. Her head rested gently against your shoulder.

Spending a day with Natasha was the easiest way to spend a day.

It was a good Christmas.

.

Natasha nudged your door open on the morning of the 26th of December. Your last vacation day. You were already awake; she offered you your coffee before she started to speak. You held your breath in anticipation when she cleared her throat nervously.

‘I wanted to say thank you.’ She said carefully. ‘For letting me come here.’

She stood awkwardly at the foot of your bed. She was still wearing her festive pyjamas and you thought that they might be your favourite thing in the world. Her hair was tied back in its usual long braid. She chewed her lower lip and you watched her eyes try to dart nervously before she focused them on you.

‘Natasha.’ You tried to find the right words, cupping your hot mug. ‘You’re my favourite person in the world. You don't have to say thank you. It wouldn't feel like home without you.’

That was the moment. When the last piece clicked. 

You watched Natasha walk slowly around your bed. You watched her place her coffee mug on the nightstand. You felt the bed shift as she crawled into the familiar space beside you.

Her thumb brushed your cheek when she kissed you. Her touch was warm from the coffee mug.

She tasted like home.

.

Things fell apart slowly and then all at once. 

.

You returned to the real world. 

Natasha’s training had been becoming more specialised for a long time. Director Fury’s plans for her became clearer and more intentional. Her time was less her own. 

You were careful never to push. Natasha became more distracted, her eyes held their secret exhaustion again.

You cherished her when she was there. The first time an additional training session ran through your usual time for dinner, you didn’t let yourself be upset. 

That evening, you heard a knock on your door and knew it was her. Natasha's tired eyes were worried and full of unspoken guilt. You pulled her towards you with a feeling of sudden urgency and happiness that came from the simplicity of seeing her standing there.

You kissed her for a long moment and Natasha met your lips with eager relief. Then, you led her to your sofa, ignoring her protests as you insisted on trying to find enough food in your rarely used kitchen to constitute a meal for her. 

She slept in your bed that night, curled familiarly into the space next to you. You listened to her steady breathing and knew that you loved her in a way that wouldn’t change.

Her missions got longer. Natasha was trusted with more. She saved more lives with each mission and you watched her start to forgive herself for the things she could barely say aloud.

You did your best to accept that Natasha might choose a future that didn’t include you so easily. She was exceptional, in her kindness, bravery and skill. 

You knew Natasha could feel the impending future too. The busier she became with work, the more effort she made to spend every other moment with you.

You felt like a pocket of steadiness in her world of chaos. You knew it was a privilege.

.

You can't always hold onto your home.

.

Natasha was given a long-term undercover mission. When she told you about it, you felt a horrible sinking in your chest. It was a feeling that you’d been anticipating.

You knew what her job meant and you knew her talent at it. 

All you could really think about in that moment was that she’d clearly been crying. Her shaky breathing stuttered as she tried to tell you the news. 

You wondered if you knew her so well, or if she wasn’t trying to hide at all from you anymore.

You hugged her tightly and tried to absolve her of her guilt. 

She was going to miss your next Christmas. 

You kissed her forehead and told her that you loved her. Natasha tangled her fingers with your own. She squeezed your hand tight. She kissed the back of your hand softly.

The next day, you walked her to the airstrip. You felt unnaturally still as you tried to stop your chest from heaving with a loss it could already feel. 

Before she walked onto the jet, Natasha turned around. Her small, awkward wave echoed your own. You watched her braids hit her back as she turned again and walked onto the aircraft.

.

Months passed.

You lived a strange empty life.

You didn’t remember the world before Natasha, you still expected to see her at every mealtime.

Christmas day arrived.

You decorated your small plastic tree with the paper dolls that had hung above your TV for nearly two years. You watched a Christmas movie that was someone else's favourite.

.

On the 26th of December, you got a phone call. It was Clint and it was the middle of the night. You were in your car before he’d finished talking. 

.

Home is the place that you are loved.

.

You found her about a mile from the Shield base, it was just past midnight. 

Natasha was walking along the side of the river with her hood up, bathed in the orange glow of the streetlights. 

She noticed you almost immediately. She came to a stop, eyes wary and shoulders braced.

You gave a small, awkward wave and she remembered herself. 

She moved toward you, pace quick. 

When she reached you, her head pressed desperately against your thick winter jacket. 

You kissed the soft fabric of her green hood and held her tight.

The sound of the river and the shaking of her cries. 

.

Home was in the sound of the river and the shaking of her cries.

[occasionalsnippets]

I like to know more about Damian and Talia's relationship with fd au reader

Taglist: @dragondevinity, @lonely-star2044, @sheep-from-rad, @ilxandra, @thethingwiththefeathers, @star-wars-lycanwing-bat, @sackofsadstuff, @zonked-times, @paastaboi, @venfia, @fantasy-angelo, @linaisadream

Talia keeps tabs on her beloved so obviously, she's well aware of when Bruce takes in a new Robin. And with that Robin comes an unexpected variable, his blood sister.

You do not catch her eye, not at first. Not until she finds Jason Todd and dunks him in a Lazarus pit. Not until she finds you being Robin while your little brother rests within the walls of Wayne manor. Not until you become the CEO of the failing Drake Industries.

The first thing of note, Jason Todd recognizes you and your brother. The pits are unpredictable in their effects and even she was uncertain of about much Jason Todd would remember after being taken out. Yet he knew of you. The feelings are vague, ambiguous at best but never malevolent. It is enough to curb some of his anger at being replaced.

It gives him enough stability that she introduces him to Damian.

The one thing that is blatantly obvious is that you care deeply for your brother, for Timothy Drake. The two of you are more affectionate than any other pair of siblings she has seen and certainly closer than she is with any of her own siblings.

The best indicator that you are Robin and not your brother is that you play. Not in some childish innocent way but rather sharply and precisely. You dance around the points you want to make but the meaning is clear nevertheless. She has been very careful to conceal Damian's existence from her beloved but he has not escaped your notice. Yet, you haven’t told Bruce. How curious.

Perhaps it is that curiosity that drives her to meet you as yourself and not as Robin. Her father takes an interest in your brother. She takes an interest in you.

Talia finds herself waiting in your office at Drake Industries on a weekday afternoon. There’s a pleasantly soft melody being played on a CD somewhere. When you enter, there is no surprise, only a slightest trace of amusement.

Without the mask, you are still every bit as sharp and cold as her favourite blades. It's a delight to have a conversation with you.

A thought arises. You would make a lovely sibling for her Damian.

She is under no delusion that Damian will settle nicely with Bruce at first but with you there to ease the transition, it just might work out better than anticipated. She may even introduce him sooner than she had originally planned.

You, on the other hand, have no idea why Talia Al Ghul of all people keeps showing up at your office. You guys don't really do much other than gossip (and occasionally, you fight off the assassins she sends) but it's become something of a routine. It's weird. You take it in stride.

As for Damian, there were several things his mother had told him before she left him on his father's doorstep. The first of which was that you were to become his sister.

There is no reason to doubt his mother's words. You spend most nights at the manor, you attend family dinners and you are very involved with the family's night life. In addition, you hold great influence over the household, enough to block his attempts at claiming his rightful role as Robin.

You are endlessly helpful in integrating him into the family. He is... reluctantly grateful for your assistance. The others are uncertain of what to do with him. Grayson and father coddle him. Todd does not remain within the manor often. Cain and Drake are distrustful. You remain steadfast and steady.

He can see why mother is fond of you. You are an acceptable sibling. Strong willed. Successful. Far better than the other riff raff father keeps around.

Eventually he does come around to everyone else, though he remains jealous of Tim who clearly holds your affection and the position of Robin. You tell him that it’s Tim’s decision whether he’ll pass on the title or not so he does end up somewhat playing nice with him.

You remain near the center of his life. He continues to go to you for advice, he hands you his marked tests and preens when you praise him, you allow him into the Batcave and teach him about the comms system, and so on.

And then, he finds out you do not consider yourself to be family. You call yourself Tim’s sister but not his. Damian’s first emotion is anger, then betrayal, then jealousy.

Are you simply dense? Have the others done something to make you believe you are unworthy? If so, it must be rectified. Immediately.

His mother had said that you were to be his sister and Damian Al Ghul-Wayne won’t accept anything less than what he is due.

[curseofhecate]

MERRY CHRISTMAS, I MISS YOU | LN4

an: This is based on Merry Christmas, I miss you by Alex Crichton. It can be read as part to to merry christmas, please don't call. Again, depressing but I can't help it. This is Lando's point of view.

w.c.: 1.3k

December 25th, Christmas.

The view from the cabin was captivating. Especially now that the sun had gone down and it was snowing again. Everything outside seemed so calm and peaceful, the complete opposite of the war that was currently going on in Lando’s mind. 

His plan hadn’t been to spend Christmas in a cabin somewhere in the french alps. It had actually been Max's idea, to make their annual ski trip overlap with Christmas this year. He knew his friend very well to know that if Lando was left alone this year on Christmas day he would have ended up wallowing in his sadness. 

The whole day had passed by in a blur. Presents, skiing, food, jokes, card games, it had all been a well revised plan to keep him distracted. And it had worked. Up until now.

It was late in the evening and everyone was off doing their own thing. Lando was sitting on a couch, half watching the snow fall outside through the floor to ceiling window and half watching the movie Pietra and Max, who were cuddling on the other couch. 

Love Actually. He remembered when his girlfriend had forced him to watch it with her around this time last year and how he had complained it was a dumb movie without actually having seen it. Well, ex girlfriend, because he had ruined that.

He hadn’t really meant to. It was something he either did subconsciously or it was out of his control. Usually, he likes to blame their falling out on the distance, on his job, on his career. And while all of those things had played their role in how things progressed between them, what had really destroyed what they had was their communication. Or better said, their lack of. And it killed Lando to admit that his inability to let someone see him for what he really is, had ruined the best thing he had ever gotten hold of.

It is weird how quickly things change.

Exactly a year ago, he could have sworn they’d be infinite. It was the day he had taken her to meet his parents. She was nervous and he had spent the whole car ride down to Bristol reassuring her that his family would love her. What she didn’t know was that they already did. Lando hadn’t stopped talking about her since the day they'd met. 

He had convinced her it wasn’t that big of a thing. Which was a lie because Lando never introduced his girlfriends to his parents. Mainly because most of them couldn’t even be considered girlfriends and fit more into the ‘casual hook ups’ or ‘friends with benefits’ categories.  

He remembered how he had spent most of his time watching her interact with his family and feeling proud about how well she fit in with them. That was the moment that solidified for Lando the feelings he had for her. And as he sat there and watched her interact with his niece we thought about how Christmas would be ten years from now, when they’d be married and have a family of their own. 

It was the moment that made it clear to Lando that this was the girl he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. The girl he was going to marry.

If he were honest, he always knew. From the moment he first saw her, at the back of that party on Christmas day two years ago with a drink in her hand and looking awkward, he knew that something was different about her. 

When he first walked up to her, Lando was nervous. Which was the most unlike Lando thing ever. Normally he was really open and comfortable around people, the definition of an extrovert. But for some reason this was different.

The first thing he told her was some lame joke about both of them being out of place since they knew no one and their friends ditched them, He didn’t get much of a response, except for a forced smile, and for a bit lando felt as if he was having a one sided conversation. But the longer he kept talking the more at ease she started to feel around him. 

The walls didn’t really come down until Lando made another joke about something stupid, what he couldn’t remember. What he remembered though was the way she had thrown her head back laughing. And from that moment, he was a goner. 

It was crazy to think how two years ago they didn’t even know each other and last year at this time she was curled up against him, head on his chest with his arms wrapped around her and watching cheesy Christmas movies. And now she is gone. He had lost her. 

Sometimes he wondered what he could have done differently. He knew it wasn’t entirely his fault and some things were out of their control but he couldn’t help but want to go back and change everything. 

What he had felt for her, he hadn’t felt for anyone else before, and he was convinced he wouldn’t feel for anyone else in the future. 

Usually he tried not to think about that. During the season it was easy. He was preoccupied with races and the possibility of winning the drivers championship. Being a formula 1 driver didn’t allow him much time to wallow in his self pity. 

But now, it is really difficult. Especially considering how he kept thinking about the Christmas they’d spent together last year. The look on her face when he’d told her it was too early to blast Christmas songs on November 1st, the domestic feeling it brought him decorating his London apartment together, the way she’d force him to do silly childish activities, like baking cookies and decorating gingerbread houses and how he’d complain even though he always ended up loving it.

Waking up with her in his arms on Christmas morning and pretending to be asleep as soon as she started stirring, just to make the moment last longer, knowing well that she wouldn’t have the heart to wake him up. It all haunted him.

But most of all, it was the what ifs that tormented him.What if she has moved on? What if she’s with someone new? What if he’s nothing but a ghost that lingers in her life?

But then what if she was lonely? What if she missed him as much as he missed her? What if she had realised how big of a mistake this had been? What if she wants to reach out but is afraid to? What if the reason she didn’t is because she thinks he has moved on. 

Lando thought about this far more often that he would like to admit. All he could think about lately was her. And even though he appreciated how his friends tried to distract him he couldn’t help but feel suffocated. 

He missed her. He missed her a lot. How could he not? He was in love with her, he still is. And so he can’t help but wonder whether she would answer if he called. 

He hoped she would. 

Sighing, he picked up his phone and tapped on her contact. He typed out a paragraph, explaining how much he missed her and how he wished he could have her back. His finger hovered over the send button but he hesitated and erased the message, turning off his phone frustrated.

He couldn’t go on like this. 

If she didn’t want to talk then she wouldn’t reply. But if still cared then maybe she would. And for once in his life Lando Norris had nothing to lose. 

He turned on his phone again and typed out another message, hitting the text button and turning off his phone before he could overthink it.

[aventurineswife]

Hi! Can you please do a Sunday from Honkai with shy fem reader. Shy fem reader is based on a wishing star whose grand wishes like the character Star from Disney wish movie 2023 please. Fem reader can fly, does magic & change into a human or star form, sorry about my poor grammar.

Where Dreams and Stars Collide

Summary: On the Astral Express, Sunday notices your inner turmoil and takes the time to connect with you. Through a tender conversation, Sunday helps you confront your idealistic vision of a painless reality, offering wisdom on the balance between peace and growth.

Tags: Sunday x Female!Reader, Shy!Reader, Transformation (Human/Star Form), Emotional Support, Slow Burn, Philosophical Exploration, Light Angst.

Warnings: Mild angst, Reflective themes.

A/N: Might've made some few changes since I have never watched the video (heard a lot of negative comments about it so, idk anymore 💀🧍‍♀️)

The Astral Express had always been a place of strange wonders, a train that traveled across worlds, weaving through stars and galaxies. Among its passengers, one stood out, a being of pure wonder—a shy, ethereal girl who could transform between a human and a shimmering star, her powers guided by the grand wishes she carried deep within her heart. You were the Wishing Star, whose wishes weren't just dreams but destinies in the making, waiting to touch the lives of those around you.

Yet, despite the power you held, you were a quiet soul, hesitant to reveal the full extent of your gifts. Your soft voice was often drowned by the bustle of the train, your delicate hands hiding your magical prowess as you clung to the warmth of your friends aboard the Astral Express. Among them was Sunday, whose presence had always intrigued you. With his golden eyes, navy pupils, and gentle air of nobility, Sunday radiated a calm yet powerful aura. But what caught your attention the most was the quiet kindness he never failed to offer, his gaze never pressuring you, always patient.

One evening, as the train moved through a quiet sector of space, you stood near the window, gazing out at the shimmering cosmos. The stars outside felt so distant, just like your own desires—grand and untouchable. The wishes you kept locked away, the dreams that could never truly come true. You let out a small sigh, unaware that someone had quietly approached behind you.

"Is something troubling you, my star?" Sunday’s voice was soft, a question wrapped in understanding.

You turned, startled by his sudden presence. His smile was warm, and though you were nervous, you managed a small nod. It was rare for you to speak openly, but Sunday’s gentle demeanor made it easier. “I… I wish to help others. I want to make their dreams come true, but… I’m not sure how.”

Sunday’s eyes softened as he observed you, his gaze steady but not intrusive. “You have a grand wish inside you, one that can light the universe. But sometimes, even the brightest stars must be patient and trust in their path. You’ve already helped more than you know, just by being you.”

You looked down at your hands, a faint blush coloring your cheeks at his words. “But my wishes… they’re so big. I can’t do it all at once.”

He moved closer, his presence comforting, as if the weight of the cosmos itself had lifted in his gaze. "Not all wishes need to come true at once. Some dreams take time to grow, and others are meant to be shared." He paused, his voice dropping to a soft whisper. "A world without pain… where people can escape the suffering of life, is that not the dream you hold?"

Your heart skipped a beat. He understood. You had always kept that wish hidden, unsure of how others would react. "Yes," you whispered, meeting his eyes. "A place where everyone can be at peace, away from pain and hardship."

Sunday smiled, the faintest hint of sadness in his eyes. "It’s a beautiful wish, my star. But sometimes, the world needs more than just peace. People grow through struggle and loss, even when they cannot see it themselves."

You hesitated. “But isn’t it better to escape the pain? To live without suffering?”

Sunday's gaze became distant for a moment, a quiet ache in his expression. "I once thought the same, that people could be free of their suffering. But the truth is, peace without growth is an illusion. The dream you wish to create—it's not weakness, but a mercy. Sometimes, all we can do is protect others from the pain we cannot shield ourselves from."

His words echoed in your heart, a blend of his own philosophy and his understanding of your wish. You felt a warmth spread through you, not from the bright stars, but from his words, his gentle nature. For the first time in a long while, you felt understood.

"Thank you, Sunday," you murmured, your form flickering with soft, golden light as you began to shift between your star and human form.

Sunday chuckled softly, his voice a melodic hum that soothed your soul. "You are more than welcome. And remember, you are not alone in your journey. We all have our dreams, even if they are vast and complex. Together, we can help them take shape."

You blinked, surprised by his words. "We?" you asked quietly.

His eyes softened, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. "Yes, my star. I may not fully share your vision, but I will always be here to help guide you." He reached out a hand, gentle yet firm. "The universe is vast, and though it can be full of pain and hardship, it is also filled with the possibility of dreams. And those dreams are worth fighting for."

As you gently placed your hand in his, a quiet understanding passed between you. For the first time in a long while, you felt as though your wishes could truly matter.

And maybe, just maybe, you weren't so alone in the world after all.

[apoptoses]

ajhfahf you're too kind, really!! I've so missed having deep meta discussions here on tumblr and I think there's so much in these books that hasn't been dissected. They're packed with so many details that a lot of little stuff just gets overlooked, or the significance is totally missed without background info on Anne herself or Anne's thoughts about her own work.

And honestly people don't need her private diaries for a lot of these facts- just 'Conversations with Anne Rice', ' 'Anne Rice: The Interviews', and 'Called out of Darkness' hold so, so much info about how she grew up and her own meta about her work. There's some really great info in conversations that's related to this topic, on how when she was writing TVL and pitching the idea she had to push back very hard against the linguistic stereotype that anyone 'old timey' has to sound like Shakespeare. She had to educate her own publishers on how a man of the 18th century would sound very, very much like a man of the modern day in most ways.

(Also, to diverge myself- there's three types of thinker. People who think in images, people who think in literal words, and people who blend both. Anne reveals that she's the type that thinks purely in image, picturing things related to the word or topic. If asked to think of say, Shakespeare, she wouldn't think of literally his name but images of things related to him. And I think in some way that also informs her work and the way vampires think, but I haven't quite put my finger on how)

Ultimately I think all of this is why these books are so successful and the main characters feel so real- there's a real love of the spoken word not just by the author, but by the characters themselves. And that translates to conversations and thoughts that feel unique to each character, and that are relatable despite the fantastical situations they're all in. The reader can really picture all these things being said out loud, not just as words on a page.

I think you're really onto something with the lyrics being soliloquy more than music. They're closer to the lyrics of the chorus of the ancient Greek play or of the opera (which really evolved out of the Greek musical plays), where the character is declaiming the story for the audience. And Lestat would have known the opera from his time in Paris too.

So I think you're right in that they're Lestat's return to stage as an actor. He was never invested in music like Nicki, but the 80s were a time in which the stage actor wasn't revered- the rock singer was. So Lestat really ends up with one foot in each world, continuing the ancient Greek tradition of singing a true story at the audience via the modern vehicle of rock music.

No matter how much of a modern man he becomes he'll never fully hide the fact that he is a being outside mortality and of a different time.

And now my head is full of thoughts on linguistics, the way language informs our personality, but that's a different post entirely 😂

Armand, Haussmann, and Paris:

The thing about Paris that's not really discussed in the VC books themselves is the Haussmann project.

In 1853 Napoleon III commissioned Haussman to completely renovate Paris. The plan was to tear down all of the old structures and rebuild the city; reorganizing the streets and reshaping them to accommodate more green spaces, and replacing smaller buildings with taller apartment blocks in more uniform style.

The Paris Armand knew when he arrived as the coven master and which he came to know as the theater leader would have looked something like this:

Dark, winding streets leading off wide boulevards and short, leaning buildings.

The Haussman project would see all of these places systematically torn down, occupants removed to other areas of the city while new buildings were put in their place. In some areas workers were destroying and rebuilding things 24 hours a day.

At this time Armand would have been living at the theater on the boulevard du Temple, Paris's street of theaters:

This dagguerotype shows the boulevard in 1838. This painting, in 1862, looks much the same:

But by 1863 all but one theater on the street had been destroyed, and that was only because that theater was on the opposite side of the street shown in the painting. How and why it wasn't pulled down, I don't know- no information on it seems to exist, just like no explanation for the very small handful of other old structures that were left untouched.

That theater, the Théâtre Déjazet, still exists today. But it was established in 1770 by Comte de Artois, so while it could have been Anne's inspiration for Armand's theater it's not the 'rickety wooden rat trap' that seats 300 that Lestat describes in TVL.

Anyways, knowing all of this, I think it makes even more sense why Armand so quickly grabbed onto Louis and was ready to run away with him at any cost.

Armand, who'd been kidnapped from the monks, who'd had his palazzo torn out from under him, who'd established something of an existence under Les Innocents and was then ripped out of that world when the cemetery was destroyed. Who was watching the city he'd finally come to know get systematically torn apart. Everything that was familiar to him was being taken again.

So why not let Louis burn the theater? He arrived in Paris in 1870, just as Haussman was dismissed. But the work of destroying and rebuilding Paris was set to carry on. Chances were the Theatre de Vampires would be next, and if that were the case there's no way the crypts beneath the place would remain safe and undiscovered.

And if he'd stayed where would they go during the renovation? What would they do? What would the point be in continuing trying to run a coven he was bored of and a life he didn't care for in a new location?

Armand was going to have to begin again somewhere- better that be with Louis, out in the world, than roaming a now unfamiliar Paris. And even though he didn't burn the theater himself, allowing/instigating Louis to do it still gave him more control than letting a stranger come in at some unpredictable moment to demolish things all over again.

(And what of Lestat, what does he feel about these changes? He never could have shown Louis the Paris he knew and loved, which existed when Louis was still mortal- that Paris was largely gone)

Chances were Anne might not have known most of this at the time she wrote interview or even TVL. But I think it still makes a lot of sense and brings up a point about Armand and immortality that I don't see brought up much- that not only do vampires lose every mortal they've ever known, but with time they also see the destruction of every place they've ever known or loved.

(ps: I'm not an expert on this topic or anything, so if anyone does know why some buildings were unchanged or has any interesting historical info to add by all means please, reblog and add it on!)

[baronessblixen]

Asking For Miracles

Merry Christmas, @katebeckets! I'm your PoangPal Secret Santa, and as I am mostly a writer, you're getting a fic 😁 You said you were enraged that we didn't get to see Mulder and Scully reunite at the end of "Redux II" (same, btw). So I wrote a scene where Scully tells him that she's in remission. It's angsty - but of course, it has a happy end. I hope you like it!

(Here's the AO3 Link)

@poangsecretsanta @today-in-fic

“Mulder, I know it’s late, but I- I need to see you.”

The words Scully left on his answering machine still ring in his ears, even half an hour after he first heard them. By the time Mulder arrives at the hospital, his legs are like lead and feel as if he’s just finished a marathon. Every step he takes is pure agony; if only he could turn around and run. That, of course, is not an option. Not when Scully asked for him. 

Mulder enters the hospital lobby, the place as familiar as his own home by now. He nods at Jeff, the doorman, and he nods back at him. Maybe he recognizes Mulder, or he has compassion for every sad soul that passes by.

He stops in front of the elevator, his fingers fidgeting with the lapels of his jacket. An elderly woman standing next to him eyes him wearily when he presses the elevator button twice more. He’s grateful she’s not making conversation as they step inside. His thoughts are loud, screaming at him. They have been ever since Scully’s phone call - another one he missed. The sound of her suppressed tears is too familiar; it already haunts his nightmares.

It’s late. The hospital is deserted – save for the elderly woman, who’s clinging to her purse, staying with him on the elevator until they reach the oncology ward. They share a silent look, pain evident in their movements as they set out in opposite directions. 

A phone call late at night is never good news. Scully must have called him just after 9 p.m. He grabbed his jacket as soon as he heard it, not even caring if it – or he – smelled bad. Scully is all that matters. 

Yet, now that he’s here, he slows down. The closer he gets to her room, the smaller and heavier his steps become. As long as he’s out here, and as long as he hasn’t looked into her eyes, and heard what she has to say, he can pretend. He can pretend the disease isn’t taking her life, cutting it way too short.

He passes room after room, getting closer to the truth. For once, Mulder doesn’t want it. He wants the miracle, the fantasy. From somewhere he hears music. Or maybe that’s just his imagination. It’s an older song, melancholic. A woman singing about wishing she had a river she could skate away on. Mulder thinks it’s a Christmas song. Who plays Christmas music in the middle of the year? He considers telling Scully about it, hoping it will make her smile. 

It’s no surprise that he hates hospitals. He’s hated them long before Scully got sick, but not always. The first time he remembers being in one was when he was a toddler, just about three years old. On his first visit, he was apprehensive. He knew the concept of hospitals from books; big, white rooms with doctors looking like angels, sometimes healing, sometimes taking people to heaven. That’s how his grandmother Mulder had described it to him when he’d asked. 

The angels, his grandmother had explained, too, had taken good care of his mother and his sister. As a new big brother, he had to know these things. It was his time to be brave. Just like now, he thinks, as his shoes squeak against the linoleum. Back then, his much smaller feet had shuffled along, trying to keep up with his father, who was holding his hand in his large, steady grip. Before that day, Mulder can’t remember his father ever holding his hand.

The room Mulder remembers is filled with a sunny warmth, despite it being November. What are the chances of it having been a sunny day? But that’s how he remembers it. Just like he remembers the soft smile on his mother’s face and the way he had to stand on tiptoe to see Samantha and her squishy face. Seeing her cemented his fate; he was a big brother and he would look after her forever. Only that forever had been taken away from them. Much like last night when he lost her again. No matter what he does, he keeps losing.

The memory ends there. In the following years, hospital walls became tainted. There was blood and screaming. Samantha broke her collarbone and Mulder broke his arm. His grandmother died; the angels she’d believed in taking her away. The memories are strung together like a pearl necklace in his mind; one painful memory after another. An endless circle. Now, there is another memory to add.

He stops in front of Scully’s hospital room. All is quiet. The music has stopped. His heart, however, hasn’t. It’s thumping steadily, loudly. So loud in fact that he wonders if Scully can hear it through the closed door. He closes his eyes and knocks.

“Come in,” Scully’s muffled voice says and so, finally, he does. His eyes find hers the second he steps inside. Her face is puffy - puffier than he’s seen it in weeks. The hollowness for once hidden. How many tears has she cried without him here? She throws him a small, shaky smile. A laugh falls from her lips that sounds more like a hiccup.

“I came as quickly as I could,” Mulder says, flinching when he realizes that’s a lie. He may have driven to the hospital as fast as he could, but he took his time arriving. 

“I thought you should hear it first,” she says, sniffing. She grabs a tissue out of a half-empty box and blows her nose. “This is ridiculous,” she adds, avoiding his eyes. “I just- I called you first when I- and you… you were the first person I wanted to call when I found out.”

Blood rushes in his ears, his temples throb; this is the last moment before he knows. Once she says it - once the words are out there - they can’t be taken back. It will be real.

“They did more tests. I- the last PET scan showed no improvement and I-,” she trails off and Mulder’s knees buckle. No improvement. There’s no cure for this cancer, just like Scully said months ago when she asked him to come to the hospital for the first time. No cure, no improvement. There’s only one way this can end. He wants to cover his ears; it can’t be true if he doesn’t hear it, or see it. 

“I wasn’t ready to accept that,” she goes on, her voice steady. She glances at him as if waiting for him to say something. It’s not like him to remain quiet, but what is there to say? He wants to get on his knees and pray to a God he doesn’t believe in. “So I asked for more tests. When you’re dying, doctors will do whatever you ask of them.”

“I’ll make sure to remember that,” Mulder mumbles and Scully cracks a smile.

“We did another PET scan, among other things, and Mulder- I don’t know why is this so difficult to say.” Another hollow laugh from her and he can no longer keep his hurt in. It expels from his mouth as his lips begin to quiver. Scully’s eyes open wide.

“Oh, Mulder,” she says, reaching out her hand and he’s too weak to deny her, to deny himself. Her skin is as soft as ever, her touch as assuring as it’s always been. He’s crying openly now, weeping. The tears are blurring his vision, but he sees what’s important: her in the hospital bed, smiling up at him.

“You shouldn’t have to comfort me,” he says with a sob, trying to compose himself. He thinks of his father, of the way he watched him dismissively the night his grandmother died. When Mulder, at ten years old, had wiped his tears away with the sleeve of this sweater, he had asked his father why he wasn’t crying. Wasn’t he sad? His father hadn’t replied and only stared at him before he’d wandered off.

“I don’t know what I was thinking, Mulder,” she says, tugging at his hand. “Sit down.” When he doesn’t, she tugs more strongly. “Sit. Please.” He does, his hands folded in his lap as if waiting to start a prayer.

“It’s not what you’re thinking,” she says softly.

“You’re a mind reader now?”

“I don’t have to be. I should have started with the most important news,” she says, waiting. He knows she wants him to look at her. He braces himself before he lifts his eyes to hers. Hers are brimming with tears, just like his own.

“My cancer has gone into remission.”

Mulder stares at her, not understanding. These are the words he wants to hear. Remission. Cured. Yet, he can’t believe them.

“You believe everything but not this?” she teases, her voice shaky.

“You’re- and the cancer? It’s- it’s.” He doesn’t know what to say. How do you describe a miracle? It just is.

“Like I’ve been trying to say, I couldn’t accept that there was no improvement. My mother… my mother and I prayed together and then I knew I couldn’t give up. I asked for another PET scan and more blood tests. Mulder, I don’t know what… something changed. Whatever it is, whether it’s the chip or, or-”

“You’re in remission,” he repeats, his brain finally catching up. She nods.

“I’m in remission. The PET scan shows great improvement. The tumor is shrinking.”

“I can’t- it’s shrinking? You’ll be fine?” He reaches for her other hand, needing to feel her. Again, she nods, smiling.

“I’ll be fine,” she whispers. Mulder stares at her, watches her, and sees his whole future. Their future. Together. His lips quiver again, but this time from joy. Scully nods, understanding him without a single word spoken.

“Come here,” he says, desperate. He lets go of her hands and engulfs her in his arms. Their positions on the bed are awkward, but they make it work. His heart thumps against her chest, and he feels hers, too. He doesn’t care if it was the chip or a miracle. For once, he doesn’t care about uncovering a secret truth. He just wants to hold her in his arms and have her by his side for as long as she wants to be.

“Will you stay?” she asks into his neck. Her lips are warm and wet and her touch brings him back into the here and now.

“I’ll stay,” he says. He’ll stay as long as she will endure him in her hospital room.

“I need to call my family,” she whispers and he loosens his grip on her. Her face is as wet as his own feels and he wipes at her eyes with his thumb. Her blue eyes are almost translucent and he’s in fear of losing himself in them. Instead, he finds himself nodding along, reaching for the cell phone on her bedside table and handing it to her.

“Tell them right away,” Mulder says. “Say you have good news.” He smiles sheepishly. She doesn’t need to know about what he’s gone through in between her call and her breaking the news to him. Still, he’d like Mrs. Scully and Bill Jr. to know what they’re in for so they won’t have to worry anymore. There’s been too much heartbreak already. Scully nods at him, new tears falling from her eyes.

“It’s a Christmas miracle,” Mulder muses and Scully’s eyebrows knit together.

“It’s not Christmas,” she says with a chuckle and he takes her hand into his, entwining their fingers. She lets him. He marvels at their laced hands, remembering the song from earlier. He hopes the woman found a river to skate away on. He hopes she found her happiness somewhere along the way. Or maybe what she was looking for was right in front of her eyes the whole time. He knows what’s that like. 

Mulder lifts his head and grins at her, falling deeper in love with her, allowing himself the full force of his emotions for once. The skepticism in her expression lets him know that she’s about to call him crazy. Or she would if this weren’t the exact moment her mother picks up the phone.

“Mom?” she says, trying to keep the tears out of her voice. Mulder squeezes her fingers to remind her he’s here with her. “I have something to tell you-…,” Scully goes on and looks at Mulder. There are so many things unspoken between them, and so many possibilities now for their future. 

“It’s good news.”

[emsprovisions]

❄️ Day 24 - A Very Royal Christmas ❄️

🎁 Today’s fic is dedicated to the Tarlos Fandom 💕

Summary: A modern-day prince au where TK and Carlos were childhood friends, who have become estranged until now.

Word count: 1244

Dear Tarlos fandom,

We have reached the final day! I have had so much fun crafting these stories to post each day and I love seeing all your reactions to being gifted a fic and just all your sweet encouragement in general. You have all been so wonderful and welcoming to me and I see how kind you are to each other as well. I feel so lucky to be in such an amazing online community with so many other kind people who love tarlos. I am so grateful for the friends I’ve made this year because of this show. You all made 2024 a much better year than it would’ve been for me, and for that, I want to say thank you. Happy holidays, everyone!

With love, Emily

24 Days of Tarlos Masterpost

Prince Carlos has been staring at Prince TK all night at the winter ball, hoping he just might catch the eligible bachelor all by himself.

Carlos just wants a moment of the prince’s attention for a dance. Just a simple dance. TK is the crown prince of his country, and while Carlos isn’t next in line for the throne of his own country, he would be remiss to assume TK would ever spare a second glance at him.

He hasn’t since they were kids anyways. 

They used to be best friends, the two young princes were inseparable as playmates when they were children. Now however, one would think they hated each other for the lengths they’d go to avoid one another at functions such as these. 

Carlos doesn’t really understand where it all went wrong. One day, TK was his best friend, and the next day, he wasn’t. 

The prince in question is currently laughing with a few dukes and duchesses, picking a canapé off a passing tray. Carlos watches him from where he stands with Lady Iris, one of his other longest friends. 

“Stop staring, your highness,” Iris teases. “You might burn a hole right through him.”

Carlos rolls his eyes, grabbing a glass of champagne from a waiter’s tray and turning to his friend. “I’m not staring,” the prince insists. “I’m trying to find my nerve.”

“Your nerve?” Iris raises an eyebrow at him.

“You know,” Carlos glances around to ensure no one is listening to their conversation before he hisses, “to ask him to dance.”

That makes Iris raise another eyebrow at him. “You’re going to ask the prince to dance?”

“Shh!” Carlos’s eyes widen. “Not so loud.”

“Oh my god, Carlos,” Iris grabs Carlos by the sleeve and drags him to a quieter area of the ballroom. “You are grown and acting like a child. TK doesn’t want to be your friend, he’s made that very clear. You need to get over your schoolboy crush on him and move on.”

“I deserve to know why he hates me,” Carlos huffs. “It’s been ten years and he’s still ignoring me. He can’t ignore me here.”

Iris just shakes her head, raising one of her hands. “You know what, I can’t watch this trainwreck. You are my best friend, I can’t watch you make a fool of yourself over a boy.”

Carlos rolls his eyes. “I’m not going to make a fool of myself. It’s a winter ball, you’re expected to dance with people, even if you don’t like them.”

Iris’s eyes only widen and she stares at Carlos like he’s grown two heads. 

“What?” Carlos scowls. 

It’s only then Carlos realizes Iris is actually staring at a point over his shoulder. He whirls around and comes face to face with Prince TK himself. 

“Oh, your highness, I didn’t see you there…” Carlos stares into bright, green eyes he’s been in love with as long for as he can remember.

TK just smiles at him, all suave and charismatic. “Prince Carlos,” he says, holding up a hand. “Would you do me the honor of a dance?”

Carlos stares at TK, stunned, he glances backwards at Iris who shoos at him with wide eyes. “Um, sure, yeah.”

TK leads Carlos out onto the dance floor before pulling him in by the waist and beginning to lead. Carlos’s own hand settles at TK’s elbow as their remaining hands clasp together. It’s the closest Carlos has been to TK in years and it’s making his head spin in a way neither the champagne or dancing ever could.

“I heard of your father’s passing earlier this year, I’m so sorry, Carlos,” TK says softly.

Carlos furrows his brows. “Thank you, but is this just a pity dance?”

TK’s eyes snap back to Carlos’s. “Is that what you think of me?”

“I don’t know what to think of you, TK,” Carlos shakes his head. “You’ve refused to speak to me for years when we used to share everything.”

 “I didn’t cut you out,” TK looks away sheepishly. “I ran away.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Carlos huffs.

“Look, you have every right to be pissed,” TK shakes his head. “You have every right to hate me. But it wasn’t until your coming out story this year that I thought…”

“Thought what??”

TK’s gaze finds Carlos’s once more as he softly says, “That I might have a chance with you.”

Now Carlos is even more confused. He’d always known TK is gay. He wasn’t shy about admitting it, unlike Carlos, who always kept that part of himself locked up tight. This year, he felt brave enough to come out on his own accord, because he was tired of the endless marriage proposals and requests from advisors for him to find a nice girl to marry. People get antsy when a handsome prince nears his thirties without a ring on his finger, evidently.

Carlos stares back at TK. “I still don’t understand.”

“Carlos,” TK smiles at the prince sadly. “I’ve been in love with you forever, and I never thought you could even possibly like me back. So I ran. It wasn’t right, and I hate that I lost such an important friendship over it, but I was terrified of losing you regardless.”

“So you made the choice for me.”

“I made the choice for you,” TK agrees.

Carlos glances around the noisy, crowded ballroom. “Can we go somewhere more private?”

TK nods and leads Carlos from the dance floor and towards a quiet balcony that overlooks the grounds, beautifully lit up with Christmas lights over all the shrubbery in the gardens.

“Wow, it’s beautiful out here,” Carlos remarks as he leans up against a stone railing. It’s cold, but he’s warm from the drinks, and dancing, and the man beside him.

TK leans against the railing next to him, head turned to look at Carlos. “It sure is,” he murmurs softly.

Carlos catches TK’s gaze and shakes his head. “You’re impossible, you know.”

“I wouldn’t deserve you.”

“I’ve been in love with you since we were kids,” Carlos finds himself admitting.

It’s TK’s turn to stare at Carlos in shock. “Come again?”

“It’s true,” Carlos shakes his head with a soft little smile. “Maybe I’m crazy, but even though you walked out of my life, I’ve still thought about you. I’ve never been able to get you out of my head.”

“What does that mean, Carlos?” TK shakes his head, staring at Carlos.

Carlos thought he needed to be brave to ask TK to dance, but the real show of courage comes from this moment. 

“It means, I’d like to kiss you, your highness,” he grins, biting his bottom lip to try and contain his smile. He takes a tentative step forward. “And I hope you might allow me to.”

TK’s eyes dazzle from the glow of the moonlight and the Christmas lights all around. He nods, stepping into Carlos and circling his arms around his neck. “You’re really giving me a chance after all I’ve done to you?”

“I really am.”

The kiss is pure magic, like something out of a movie, as Carlos presses his lips to TK’s. Butterflies dance in the prince’s stomach as he pulls the other prince ever closer, wondering if he’s possibly crazy. He’s unsure how this will even work, or where they’ll go from here, but Carlos decides to be brave anyway. Despite it all, he just can’t let TK go.

[goddessofroyalty]

Hey! I binge read all of your Work/Life Balance fic last night and loved it. The way you kept them in character was amazing. For Viktor, I could hear his lines in my head in his voice.

I saw you were still low-key taking prompts for it. An idea came to mind about Viktor's own reaction to finding out he was pregnant? Especially to be about 3 months when he found out?(If I mathed correctly lol) I know you alluded to his whole "testing multiple pregnancy tests" but I think it would be interesting to see his full reaction, coming to terms with it, and potentially his failed attempts to tell Jayce because it wasn't the perfect time?

Prompt Idea: Viktor's reaction to actually finding out he is pregnant and the failed attempts to tell Jayce that you mentioned in Work/Life Balance? Idk, just kinda think it would be cute

Glad you enjoyed the fic! I think I got all the parts of these two prompts.

In the version of the final scene in my head before I wrote it Jayce actually kept going out and getting a new pregnancy test after the previous ones positive. I feel like what I’ve gone with is possibly funnier (and a lot less repetitive to write/read).

Tags: omegaverse, mpreg, thoughts/concerns about miscarriage

-------------

The nurse hands Viktor a pregnancy test with the same amount of enthusiasm as she had the paperwork.

It is the correct amount of enthusiasm given the circumstances.

Nobody actually thinks he is pregnant. The doctors having years ago had the conversation with him about how, with his health, he would very likely be unable to conceive. They had been so gentle with their words and moved the tissue box closer with them despite how little it had actually bothered him. Relationships and children barely worth a thought compared to his work.

Policy dictates that, as he is being sexually active, they must check to be sure before doing any scans that may harm a fetus if he was carrying one.

He’d just lie about it if it wasn’t for how Jayce’s habit of scenting him every opportunity he can means half the time the box is already ticked before he’s even handed the form.

So Viktor takes the cup and the paper-wrapped stick to the bathroom and waits the ten minutes it takes for the little negative sign to appear so the nurse can tick the box on the form that says, yes, they checked, and Viktor can return to his notepad while he waits his turn. His plans for what work he should be able to get done after his appointment is finished well-formed when the results finally show up.

Viktor grabs the piece of plastic and only pauses to look at the thing because it doesn’t seem to be the familiar negative he knows.

Probably just a different brand than they usually get.

He digs the instructions out of the bin just to be sure.

After unfolding and refolding the leaflet so just the bit with what the results mean is on the front he holds the instructions in one hand and test in the other. Comparing the results against which means what.

Pregnant.

The two lines in that exact position apparently mean he’s pregnant.

When they had first started making him take them Viktor had looked up the reliability of them hoping for some argument that they were a waste of everyone’s time. It hadn’t succeeded at his goal at the time but had left him with the knowledge that false positives were basically impossible.

He is, apparently, pregnant.

He returns to the front desk in the reception on autopilot. Standing before the bored-looking receptionist who expects him to tell her that the test was negative as expected and that she can finish checking him in for the scan.

Because he shouldn’t be pregnant.

He can’t be pregnant.

Yes, perhaps, maybe he and Jayce were not as diligent with protection as they could be. Sometimes they got caught up in their excitement of their latest breakthrough and getting the condoms the last thing on their minds. But nothing should have come from it because Viktor’s body had never been healthy enough to even give him a consistent heat schedule.

“I will have to cancel my appointment today,” Viktor says. Only realizing he had brought the test with him when he clenches the hand not holding his cane and feels the plastic dig into his skin.

The receptionist opens her mouth to no doubt ask why he would need to cancel when he’s already there for it. A flash of surprise crosses her face as she no-doubt remembers what she had had him do and the obvious conclusion of the two pieces of information she has before returning to professional friendliness.

“Of course. Let us know if you need to rebook.”

She doesn’t say congratulations or any of the other things you are apparently meant to when somebody informs you they are pregnant, which is good, because Viktor doesn’t know how would respond.

“Yes, of course,” he says with a sharp nod. “Thank you.”

The smile she gives is devoid of any excitement or judgement. The smile of a professional who has been taught that something like this can mean something very different to different patients.

Viktor shuffles out of the clinic, ignoring the bored stares of the others in the waiting room until he is out on the street. The pregnancy test still in hand.

He tosses it into the first bin he finds of course. It is very unhygienic to carry around something that has had his urine on it. Keeping it with him won’t change the situation. If he needs evidence when he tells Jayce he can always take another one.

How is he ever going to tell Jayce?

No.

No he needs to be realistic. False positives are impossible but it may be a case that an embryo was created and implanted before his body rejected it. A reminder that they should stop being lax about the condoms. There no point mentioning it to Jayce if that is the case.

No, first Viktor should book an appointment to test again under doctor’s supervision. By then if it was just a momentary thing the hormones will have cleared from his system and he can forget all about it.

There is no need to get Jayce involved yet.

-----------------

“When was your last heat?” the doctor asks after Viktor returns from peeing on another stick that does not return the expected negative despite it having been long enough since the scan appointment that had it been an immediate miscarriage any residual hormones should have left his system.

“A year ago.” His heats had never been regular so skipping three was hardly a cause for suspicion or concern.

The doctor’s brow furrows because a lack of an obvious heat makes it harder to figure out any kind of timeline of conception.

“Have you experienced any bleeding?”

“No.” Not that it really proved anything from the reading Viktor had done after the initial positive result. If his body had rejected the pregnancy early enough it is easy for even omegas to miss the resulting passing.

“Has there been a single incident of your contraception methods failing?” the doctor asks. “For example, did the condom break during-“

“Eh-“ Viktor grimaces because there wasn’t really a single incident of a condom breaking but rather a common enough occurrence of them forgoing using one entirely.

“Right,” the doctor says, thankfully saving Viktor from having to say it. “In that case I think it is best to arrange an ultrasound to confirm if there is any evidence of pregnancy, and, if there is, how far along.”

Viktor nods as he tries to figure out where to fit another appointment in with the new project. It would be far easier if Jayce was around more instead of being dragged around by councilors and investors in wherever their whims take them.

“I also wouldn’t suggest informing anyone about this,” the doctor continues. “You may be very early into a pregnancy, and, with your other health concerns-“

There is a good chance he still may miscarry. No reason to bring it up with Jayce until they are more certain.

“Of course.”

-------------

“Have you told your alpha yet?” the ultrasound technician asks as she smears gel over Viktor’s exposed stomach.

“No.” there is no point considering it would likely end in miscarriage.

“Well that’s hardly fair to keep all the excitement to yourself,” the technician says as she reaches over for the ultrasound, moving it around his stomach clearly searching for his uterus.

“It is still early. I will tell him once it is far enough along to not be likely to miscarry.”

“You shouldn’t think like that!” the technician says, glancing at him quickly before returning her attention to the screen.

“I am just being realistic.” A pregnancy does not necessarily mean you will end up with a baby. Especially not if one’s health is like Viktor’s.

“So you are just going to keep it to yourself until you’re 3 months along?” the technician asks, her movements less broad. Likely trying to find any evidence of a very early pregnancy.

“Yes.” Things are easier that way.

“In that case you’re gonna’ want to figure out how to tell him,” she says before spinning around the screen so he can see his uterus and the baby-shaped blog within in. “Because three months is about where’d I put you. Congratulations.”

Viktor likely wouldn’t have believed her if he couldn’t see it with his own eyes. Which is probably why she showed him the screen. But, sure enough, there it was. Not a full baby but also not a bundle of cells of a new implantation.

“I haven’t had any symptoms.” Nothing that made him think anything had changed other than his sickness.

“Some people get lucky like that,” the technician says with a shrug. She presses a button on the screen that causes it to pause on the images while she removes the ultrasound from his stomach and offers him a tissue to wipe the gel off. Her hand suddenly resting on his knee. “I’ll arrange for a printout for you at the front desk. Maybe that’ll help you with telling your alpha yeah?”

“Thank you.” He doesn’t know if a print out of an ultrasound will actually help him tell Jayce but he supposes it is better to have it and not need it than not have it.

--------------

Viktor stands in front of the mirror in just his boxers staring at the reflection of his still completely flat stomach. His hands running along it feeling for any sign of a swell that could be the baby that was apparently in there and finding nothing.

It always takes longer for omega men to show, the ultrasound technician had said with a laugh like he was stupid for asking how he could possibly be 3 months along without a single outward sign. Your hips hold everything a bit further back. I wouldn’t worry through. Give it a couple weeks and you’ll have a bump for you and your alpha to fall in love with.

It still doesn’t feel real though. Not even with the print out of the scan that shows the very real fetus apparently resting in his uterus.

The door swings open but Jayce immediately turns around when he notices Viktor’s state of undress.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realis you were changing,” Jayce says despite the fact they have both seen each other completely naked. The fact that they had managed to make a baby together, even if Jayce doesn’t know that piece of information yet.

“It is fine,” Viktor says, grabbing his shirt and quickly buttoning it up on himself. It’s ridiculous, if Viktor can’t see any evidence of pregnancy there is no way Jayce will. But the idea of Jayce finding out before Viktor has the chance when it is clear Viktor should know is unpleasant.

Viktor grabs his cane from where he had hung it over the edge of the desk. Shoving the scan printout under some notes as he does.

“You can look now,” Viktor says because Jayce clearly isn’t going to unless he’s told he can.

Jayce turns around immediately. Beaming at Viktor in his fond way.

“Does this mean you’ll be joining the dinner tonight?”

“What? No! I was just-“ trying to see if he could see their baby. Which, if he were to tell Jayce now, would not see the alpha attending the dinner either. And while Viktor does not actually care about stealing Piltover’s Golden Boy from his adoring fans, Jayce’s growing social requirements are an necessary evil for their progress. “It does not matter. I will not be attending.”

“Come on Vik, please, for me,” Jayce says, coming over to wrap his arms around Viktor. He easily slots his head onto Viktor’s shoulder, the pout on his face reflected back on them in the mirror. “You can’t force me to go to another one alone.”

“I think you will find I can,” Viktor says, but leans into the warmth of Jayce’s body. “Anyway, they do not want me there.”

“I want you there.” Jayce’s grip tightens as he nuzzles against Viktor’s neck more like a young pup than the proud alpha he is. “Please Viktor.”

“I-“ could cause a scandal if he really wanted to. Drop the news halfway through the party when the gaggle of over-interested omegas swarm Jayce in the hopes of winning his attention. Have all of Piltover talking by morning. “-have work to do.”

It is hard for Jayce to argue with that. Their work as important to him as it is Viktor.

“It’s unfair you know,” Jayce says as he draws away, fixing his coast in the mirror. He looks every bit the charismatic leader Piltover imagines him to be. “That you get to stay in our lab working while I have to keep listening to the same conversation about the weather all night.”

“That is the price you pay for being the face of progress.”

“Not funny Vik,” Jayce says, but leans down for a quick kiss all the same. “I’ll try and sneak out and join you after the first round of being introduced to everyone.”

“Do not do anything that would have Councilor Kirramman unhappy with you.”

“Don’t worry – I’ll get Cait to cover for me,” Jayce promises before slipping out to head to the event.

--------------

Strong arms wrap around Viktor as he stands in front of the blackboard in their lab. Jayce’s head coming to rest against the top of his as the warmth of the alpha’s body seeps through the back of Viktor’s clothes.

“I missed you,” Jayce mumbles against Viktor’s hair. Nuzzling into it was if it is at all an effective way to pick up someone’s scent so far away from any of the actual scent-glands. “You smell good.”

Viktor tenses at that. Of course the pregnancy would be starting to affect his scent, making him even more appealing to his alpha in a biological attempt to keep their support there for the pregnancy and hopefully beyond. If he was as far along as he apparently was it’s surprising it hadn’t started to change already. And Jayce is not stupid. He will likely realize what could be causing it.

It might work in Viktor’s favor though. Let Jayce figure it out and claim ignorance.

All he has to do is act surprised. He can do that.

“Sorry,” Jayce says, drawing away. “I didn’t mean to break your focus.”

He didn’t think anything of the change in scent then.

“It is fine.” Nothing ground breaking had been happening. “Are you finished for the day?”

Viktor could just tell him about the pregnancy. It is not as if there is anything he cannot pause for the afternoon.

“I wish,” Jayce says with a whine. “I have another meeting in an hour. I just wanted to come check on- ah- our work!”

There will be no telling him today than.

“In that case there is something I wanted your opinion on,” Viktor says because he will take what he can get of Jayce’s mind before he has to hand him back to Piltover’s elites.

---------------

“Jayce do you have a minute?” Viktor asks on what is becoming a rare afternoon where Jayce can just stay in the lab without having to run off to some social engagement or investors meeting. Nothing that he need not be distracted for.

“Yeah, of course,” Jayce says, dropping what he is working on to come over. He leans over Viktor’s shoulders to examine what he is working on, expecting it to be about that. “What do you need?”

“What I need is to tell you something.” Viktor can feel how Jayce almost freezes at it. The alpha’s attention now fully on him.

Viktor wonders what Jayce thinks he’s going to tell him. Likely not that he is pregnant.

Before Viktor can find the words the door to the lab swings open and Mel hurries in with a hustle that is as close as Viktor thinks he’s ever seen her do to running.

“Oh good you’re here – I need you to talk to the new investor.”

“What? Why?” Jayce asks, craning his neck to look over to Mel but not moving from where he is leant over Viktor.

“He has concerns about the safety of the Hexgates and is threatening to pull funding as a result.”

“That is ridiculous. The Gates are perfectly safe!” Heimerdinger wouldn’t have let them go ahead if they weren’t.

“I know that! But he isn’t being convinced by me. I have him in a room and he’s agreed to discuss with you first, but, we do not have much time before he walks.”

“Go,” Viktor says before Jayce can think about refusing. “My news can wait.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” The pregnancy isn’t going anywhere but the investor apparently is.

---------------

“You deserve this more than I do,” Jayce says, holding out a drink to Viktor now they have both returned home from the investors meeting where they displayed their latest prototype. An identical glass in his other hand. “You did more of the work than I did.”

“You kept the investors happy.” Viktor would also rather Jayce in the lab with him but somebody has to be the face of their work and Jayce is far better suited for it than Viktor. “And, ah, none for me.”

Alcohol and pregnancy do not mix. Not that Jayce knows about that fact yet. The two barely getting to spend more than a moment together the last few weeks.

“You can take one night off to celebrate,” Jayce says still holding the glass out.

They do have the night off. The project finished and investors and council happy. Nothing that needs to be done that cannot wait until morning. Nothing he might be taking Jayce away from by telling him about the pregnancy.

“It is not that,” Viktor says, meeting Jayce’s eyes and the adorably puzzled expression. “I cannot drink at the moment on account of, eh, being pregnant.”

The surprise that overtakes Jayce’s face is exactly what Viktor expected all the times he thought about telling him.

“What?”

“I am pregnant,” Viktor confirms.

“Really?” Jayce asks, glancing down at Viktor’s stomach which remains completely flat.

“Yes. The doctors are quite sure.” Viktor wouldn’t be telling Jayce if they weren’t.

“The doctors?” Jayce asks before realization crosses his face, because he does actually know of Viktor’s frequent medical appointments – partners and all. “Right. Of course just-“

Jayce puts the two glasses back on the counter and runs a hand through his hair and this is exactly why Viktor hadn’t told him right before he had another obligation. It would be cruel to send him into a council meeting in the level of shock he is in.

“I-“ Jayce starts, before swallowing and nodding, having made up his mind about something. “Wait here.”

“Wait- what?” Viktor asks as Jayce grabs his coat and heads to the door. “Jayce where are you going?”

“I just need to get something. Don’t go anyway!” Jayce says before racing out the door leaving Viktor alone in the apartment.

“Don’t go anyway. Why would I go anywhere?” Viktor asks to nobody but himself. Sighing before making his way over to the couch to sit and wait for Jayce to return. Setting his cane down beside him.

He is sure Jayce will return and not just because it is his apartment Viktor currently is in. Yes, he’s heard stories of Piltover alphas seeming head over heels for an omega in Zaun only to vanish as soon as a pregnancy is in the picture, but Jayce isn’t like that. Their work, at least, is far too important for him to abandon.

“Can you not inherit his recklessness?” Viktor asks his still flat stomach as he leans back on the cushions and waits.

The door swings open at Jayce’s hast when he returns. The alpha not wasting time taking his coat off, instead rushing to where Viktor is and all-but slamming a handful pregnancy tests on the coffee-table.

“I know you said the doctors are sure,” Jayce rambles before Viktor gets the chance to say anything. “But please, for me?”

It makes sense with Jayce being who he is that he would want tangible proof of his own. And, really, it is not that arduous for Viktor to indulge him this.

“Can I have some water first?” Five tests will require a rather high amount of urine from him after all.

[skullmoss]

helluva boss really pisses me off, because every day it is more proof that vivziepop has no idea how to write female characters with their own lives and goals without having the anchor of a male character holding them down into the narrative.

the one female character with any actual nuance and care given in helluva boss is probably octavia, and she mostly serves as a plot device for her father. we don't know anything about her beyond what she represents to stolas. all conversations with her and about her revolve around stolas.

when a male character is present in a female character's life in helluva boss, the male character overshadows them and becomes the Main Person. stella is an antagonist, but once her brother is introduced he immediately takes over as an antagonist, leaving stella to be a lackey as opposed to an active villain with her own agenda and goals.

and millie has always been a problematic sticking point with the main cast of helluva boss, because she is so underdeveloped & underutilized compared to blitz & moxxie. she cannot exist separate from moxxie. the writing team for helluva boss clearly struggles to figure out what to do with millie outside of Wife. and it's at a point where it is entirely too late to reconcile and fix her role in the story without feeling like it's forced. knowing full well the prioritizing of male characters over female characters has cornered the helluva boss team into trying to acknowledge the 'millie problem' in a way where most people can tell they just...can't fix anymore.

so they give her an unplanned pregnancy/motherhood angst plot. and she is so underdeveloped and underutilized as a character, and the fandom is so hyperfocused on the male characters where they don't stop to think for five seconds about the female characters outside their relationship with their fave males, that some people think/theorize millie is upset because she cheated on moxxie, because the helluva boss fandom is so primed and groomed into simply not taking five seconds to try to understand why a female character feels a certain way unless they did wrong to their man.

there is a way to explore a lack of individual personhood and the anxiety of being pregnant and becoming a mother making that even more apparent for a character like millie, but the helluva boss writing team just does not function that way. i do not trust them with a pregnancy subplot just given the overall way they write and handle their female characters, shoving them into a corner where only the male characters can dig them out into relevancy before they get shoved aside once again. there is no agency.

[pearl-blue-musings]

oh, um. I was wondering if you could do this thing where the reader is Shinsou’s comfort character and stood up to him when he was being bullied and all the villain insults. I know it’s not much detail but it would be nice if you could do it! Thanks!

Oh my goodness of course anon!! I love this idea so much. I used a fem/afab reader!

Age 4

The doctor hands your mom and dad a couple pamphlets as they hold back tears. Sitting in your own chair, you kick your little legs and stare at your feet in confusion. The x-ray on the wall shows your bones. There’s nothing wrong with them, you think. And that’s the problem.

There was nothing special about you.

Your parents both had quirks so you thought you also would’ve been special like them. But you’re an anomaly. An outlier. The rest of the conversation is a bit of a blur to you. Your parents had hugged you tightly, and you know that you said that you still love them and they love you. But all that’s going through your growing brain is that you’re not normal.

That weekend, your mom takes you to a support group of quirkless or shunned quirks. Your grip on your mom’s hand is tight as she encourages you to meet some new friends. You glance around shyly, slowly realizing that no one from your daycare or school is here. You let go and trudge along, your little legs taking you to a corner with some coloring books. A boy nearby with distinguishable purple hair sits by himself, and so you proceed to sit next to him. He gives you a guarded look.

You wave and he curls in on himself. “Hi,” you start before you introduce yourself. “My mom told me to make friends here. So I said my name, what’s yours?”

The boy interlocks his fingers and swings his feet.

“Shinsou Hitoshi.”

Age 8

Lunch time was always the best part of the day. It meant you could hangout with Shinsou uninterrupted. The two of you, through the networking of your mothers, realized you live close by and began to walk to school together. The friendship was a bumpy start, but what’s a little girl to do?

“Did you watch the new ranger show last night? It was an All Might special!”

Shinsou nods next to you eagerly, his bento half eaten. His chubby cheeks are full of onigiri as he swallows. “It was so cool,” he emphasized, “but I’m still waiting for the day they talk about Eraserhead!”

You giggle and stick out your tongue. “That’s only because he’s similar to you!” You lightly tease him and keep eating your lunch. “Are you gonna be at the group meet?” You frown as he shakes his head. Since his quirk has developed he’s been avoiding the support group. Why? Does he not want to hang out anymore? They all like him there!

You’re about to respond when a group of girls come up to you and Shinsou. You recognize these girls as the popular ones in your grade with cool quirks to match. Suddenly you’ve lost your appetite. You try to close your bento box and lay down but they speak first.

“Ew,” the ring leader starts, “why is your bento box a hero? You know that you don’t have a quirk right? It should be something lame and boring- like you!” They all laugh around you, pointing and calling you a quirkless loser. You try to drown out their laughter as you shrink in on yourself.

Shinsou stands up and puts himself in between you and the girls. He extends his arms out wide to block them from you. There’s a determined anger in his eyes that many have never seen. “Why don’t you just leave her alone?”

“Because it’s easy-“

The girl stops mid sentence and walks away. That’s when it dawns on them that he had accidentally used his quirk. The other two girls stare at him and start to yell out. “You’re not supposed to use your quirk in class you freak! Undo it! We’re gonna tell the teacher!”

Shinsou blinks quickly as he looks between you and your bullies. He can feel his throat getting clogged up but he removes the brainwashing through the threat of tears. When he sits down, you place a hand on his shoulder and softly ask, “are you okay?”

He shrugs you off and lays his head down. The girls had already called the teacher and soon Shinsou was escorted out of class.

You didn’t see him for a few days.

Age 13

You were lucky to have been in the same class as Shinsou throughout middle school. It was a relief to have someone you know as opposed to having to introduce yourself as the quirkless girl. It was so rare to not have a quirk that you only talked with Shinsou, and some boy online who also was born without one.

It was lonely, but you still did your best to be a normal middle school girl.

You got the trendiest clothes, kept up your grades, stayed out of drama, performed well in sports clubs and music clubs, and best of all you stayed friends with Shinsou Hitoshi. Although your growth was more positive, Shinsou had grown colder. He tried not to be seen around you, would keep to himself more as you began to flourish, and started getting bullied more and more. He tried to keep it from you, knowing you have your own struggles. You didn’t want to press it, and so you kept your emotions about the whole thing to a light simmer.

When different hero high schools began to come to the schools, tension began to rise. Sure, he had a couple of other friends, but the two of you had always maintained a special bond. After the recruit from UA left, most of the chatter was about what they’ll do with their quirks and what kind of hero they’ll become.

“I’m gonna apply to UA.”

Several heads in the classroom turned toward Shinsou, all of them with similar expressions. The first to speak was the “jock” of the class. He walks over to his desk and grabs a hold of the sides. The way Shinsou’s back tenses tugs at your heart as you start to struggle with what to do.

“You? Be a hero? Get real! You have a brainwashing quirk. Only villains do that, and UA doesn’t produce world class villains.” The class around him laughs as Shinsou stares at him blankly. Your jaw drops and you grab at the hem of your skirt. Hitoshi had mentioned the villain thing before but seeing it in person is more cruel than you can take. The rest of the class laughs and jostle him, saying he’s better off applying for a villain academy.

The taunting gets worse and you can’t take it anymore. You aggressively push up and out of your seat. You position yourself between the jock and Shinsou’s desk, arms stretched out wide. Your eyebrows are furrowed as you stare at the bully. “Leave him alone,” you demand. “He’s done nothing to you. Any of you! Anyone can be a hero!”

Another boy comes up next to the jock and stares you down with a smirk. “Oh look, the quirkless loser is standing up for him. Let me guess, he brainwashed you into being his friend?”

“No,” you quickly reply, “but it seems like you’ve been brainwashed into thinking your outfit is decent.”

Your arms start to shake from exhaustion as they stay extended. Your classmates laugh at your insult and it seems the whole thing is forgotten. When they step away, you finally put your hands down and walk back to your desk. Normally, you would have spoken with him but he couldn’t see you cry. Shinsou looks over his shoulder in attempts to get your attention, but doesn’t succeed. As the teacher returns, you ask to be excused for the restroom where you cried into your arms there. Even after all this time, you’re still an outcast.

A few minutes pass and you finally leave the bathroom. As you walk outside, you’re greeted by your long time friend. You pat your eyes quickly and croak out, “Toshi! What are you doing here?”

He smiles gently at you and gives you a warm yet quick hug. “I’m here to walk you back to class. I was worried… and I wanted to thank you. For you know standing up to them.”

You nod and walk with him. Your heartbeat calms down as you walk close together side by side. You take a deep breath as the classroom door approaches.

“I think you’re going to be a great hero.”

[4lexnilsen]

“why wouldn’t it be allowed?   is studying together forbidden in illinois now?”   playing dumb because it’s easier than admitting their friendship may not be as innocent as they insist,  alex can’t help but wonder how harry feels about all this.   sarah usually just rolls her eyes and gives him the silent treatment for a few hours.   they rarely fight because of his friendship with helena.   “thank you.”   blushing faintly,  he’s not really used to people complimenting his name and so it means even more.   “and that’s very sweet of you.   i,  personally,  really like it when you call me alexander.”   it makes him feel special,  like he means something to her because she can spend the extra seconds and actually call him by his full name instead of settling for the more common option —   alex.   “have you ever asked your parents why they went with helena?   i’m only asking because my parents,  for whatever reason,  decided to name us all in alphabetical order.   alexander,  bryce,  cameron and david.   that’s kind of weird,  isn’t it?”   he laughs,  shaking his head,  but figuring all families have their little quirks.   “is alfred like…   your dad’s uncle?”   he remembers her telling him,  the very day that they first met,  that she wanted to help others like her late grandfather.   he was a doctor,  she’ll be a vet.   and so he knows that alfred isn’t her grandfather as his name has popped up in several of their conversations,  and he’s very much alive.   but she always refers to him by his name so he has no idea whether they’re related by blood or not.  

“i’ll dedicate it to you.   for helena wayne,  thanks for suffering through the very first draft,  and all the other ones that came after it.”   it doesn’t even occur to him that he should probably dedicate it to his girlfriend.   why would it?   he hasn’t even told her that he’s writing a book,  afraid she will ridicule him.   “how do you know these things?”   very much impressed,  he gently squeezes her hand.   eyes twinkling with happiness.   harry is one lucky guy.   “have you ever been to italy?”   maybe he could save up enough money to take her there one day.   but she’s not his to spoil with trips to italy,  a voice of reason reminds,  causing his cheeks to flush an even darker shade of red.   “you have so little trust in me,  helena wayne.   i’d never let you face plant into the ice.”   he shakes his head,  holding her hand as she begins to skate on her own,  chest brimming with pride.   he even whistles in approval,  beaming at her.   “look at you go!   the next olympics are yours,  little cat!   where do i sign you up?”   teasing,  he’s grinning up until he hears someone call out her name.   they both freeze.   a wave of shame crawling up his neck.

he shouldn’t feel ashamed.   after all,  it’s not like they’re doing anything wrong.   can’t two friends go ice skating together?   are they not allowed to hold hands when letting go means one of them might get injured?   it’s not like they’ve been making out underneath the mistletoe.   sarah knows exactly where he is and with whom,  and so does harry,  right?   then why does he feel so weird?   his heart lurching into his throat,  blood buzzing so loudly that he can barely hear his own thoughts…   and since helena isn’t dropping his hand,  he only tightens his grip,  giving a reassuring squeeze.   he doesn’t join in on the conversation,  not up until his name gets dragged into it.   then,  he awkwardly lifts his other hand in a silent hello,  puts on his best smile and calls out,   “alex nilsen.   nice to meet you.”   actually,  it’s anything but nice,  but he can’t really say that.   relief washes over him when the guy doesn’t throw a fit and they can skate away,  faces flushed and hearts thudding.   he only laughs when helena speaks up again,  their hands still locked.   “what’s weird is,”   harry has friends in the first place,   “chicago is such a big city and sometimes it feels so small.   are we in trouble with harry now? does he know... you know, that we're here? without sarah? but yeah,  churros sound real good,  with dulce de leche sauce.   it’s the best.”

"oh, sure. if that's allowed." with his girlfriend, she discreetly points out yet again. because she isn't so certain how SHE would feel about that and it kind of bothers helena. "alexander is beautiful. i like refer to people as their full names... that's what i was taught by my dad and alfred. it's a habit just instilled in me now." her family's butler, but she won't say that in fear it makes her sound too pretentious. he's more than that, he's family, but no one outside their family is going to understand it. fearful of being judged for it, despite how much alfred means to her. he's like the grandfather built in best friend she didn't get to have by blood. "and it's just unfair, to have such a beautiful handsome regal name and to not be referred as such." raven haired girl adds. "that's amazing. of course i want to be the first." that's incredibly fascinating, the fact he's taking off writing books of his own. his girlfriend must be so proud and enamored, if she cares. "mhm, there is actually. sfusato amalfitano and the limone di sorrento. they're highly prized lemons." helena grins, letting her hands go from his forearms, moving herself away to resort to skating freely on her now while holding his left hand. "and what? face plant into the ice when you over speed and throw me off?" this is a challenge she, for the first in her life, isn't so eager to take on. listening to him talk, about to respond until the sound of her name has her distracted.

"helena?" turning her head as they're passing back by the front entrance. the face belonging to harry's best friend. "colby? um, hi. what're you doing here? shouldn't you be at the lounge with harry?" feeling so awkward, caught, holding alex's hand... but unable to bring herself to let go in fear of faceplanting in front of everyone. "no," his voice slow, like he notices that too, the weirdness of the girl who is his best friends girlfriend holding another guys hand, "i'm here with my new girlfriend maisy. we're on a date. she's coming. so who's that?" not afraid to just openly come out with it, purposely trying to put her on the spot as he gestures to the guy next to her. none of your business, her first instinct to grumble; but quickly thinks how that'll make her sound guilty. "oh! my best friend. because harry didn't show, he was supposed to be here." putting it back to him with attitude, so in case he wants to go back telling him, then he can see it's his fault she's holding another guys friend. "anyway, we're off now. have fun, bye," waving goodbye as she's looking back forward to concentrate where they're going. "that was weird... i wonder if we should go try these churros, now?" before he rouses harry up and gets him to come over and ruins the rest of their night.

[strangerwheelerthings]

Just saw an ask about Nancy’s lack of social behaviors that inspired some thoughts. I didn't want to intrude on them with my disagreements. They make a couple of reasonable points, but I believe they're missing some aspects of Nancy’s personality to interpret them. Obviously, some of this comes down to personal interpretation, but this is my understanding of Nancy Wheeler.

Addressing their points: Canonically, Nancy isn't a social person. She didn't reach out to Robin at all in the year after Starcourt Mall. The only people we see her regularly hanging out with, after Barb's death, is whoever her current boyfriend is. These are all facts. I personally feel her questioning Robin's presence in season 3 was less a 'I have absolutely zero idea who you are' reaction, and more of a 'why the heck is this new person helping us fight a monster and making comments, since when?' type reaction. This is up for interpretation though, so I won't argue that point.

However, Nancy’s lack of social life is not an indicator of a lack of desire for friendship. Nancy struggles with opening up to people. She finds emotional vulnerability and genuine connection both difficult and terrifying. We see this aversion present itself in her relationship with Mike, as well as signs of it presenting in her dysfunctional family. 

Barb was her only real friend in the beginning of the show. We see her change herself, to try to conform to Steve's group, but even then she is very distant from everyone but Steve and Barb. She relied on previous bonds in a social situation, and made no attempts to create new ones. Granted, Tommy and Carol weren’t people she cared to be friends with. However, this seems to be a pattern of behavior, as indicated by her social situations throughout the show. Another example is the party in season two, when she got drunk and only actually talked to Steve.

Nancy stays inside a social comfort zone. She is not outgoing without a purpose. She’s good at listening, but she doesn’t talk to people without an external reason, such as a story. What some people may forget, is that once Nancy is comfortable with someone, many of those barriers go away. She actually stays quite close to people she likes and feels comfortable with, especially in a distressing situation. She made Barb come to the party for this exact reason. 

The Upside Down dangers created the perfect situations to create deep bonds with Steve and Jonathan. They were forced into situations that lowered guards and allowed them to be genuine with each other. There’s a reason she ended up dating both of them, and essentially relying on them for connection over the years. It wasn’t just trauma bonding, but also that barrier free connection. 

Jonathan was the one to distance himself from Nancy in between season one and two. We see Nancy still reaching out at the beginning of season two. He had been placed in the comfortable zone, and as such, she was quite social with him, despite not dating yet. She ends up distanced from Steve because ex status took him out of that zone, alongside lack of communication in their relationship and the inability to be emotionally vulnerable with him. 

Then we go into post-season three territory. Nancy and Robin don’t talk after Starcourt. Why would they? The two saw each other in a dangerous situation, but they never actually connected. There was no bond, and I highly doubt that Robin took the initiative to attempt to develop one afterwards. Steve started dating Nancy because he put persistent effort into showing his interest. She’s not exactly the type to reach out first. Once within the trust and comfort zone, then yeah, she will initiate contact with a person, but she struggles before then. 

As for people outside of the Hawkins Gang, alongside her natural social aversion, there’s also the barrier of being unable to be completely honest with them. This is a major thing for Nancy, who likely values genuine friendships, and has little respect for superficial ones. This, alongside the trauma surrounding Barb, hinders her quite a lot.

After Jonathan moves away, Nancy is left relatively alone. She has working relationships with people in the newspaper, but not much beyond that. Perhaps there was the possibility of a friendship developing over time with Fred, but that was cut short. Even then, once again, the person she’s closest to got there because they were placed in a situation where she had an external reason to initiate contact.

Does that mean she doesn’t really care to make any more friends aside from Jonathan? Turn now to the famous line: "Does that make us friends? As in, officially?"  

Look at that smile, and try to tell me that she isn't ecstatic to have Robin confirm their new relationship.

This girl desperately wants a friend. She just doesn’t know how to make one. Looking just at that scene, Nancy is visibly nervous. She doesn’t say anything until Robin drops the friend-word, and then she feels the need to confirm it with her. She wanted it so badly, and was so relieved when Robin revealed that she felt the same way. This wasn’t a little thing to her.

How do they even get to that point in season four? First, Robin puts herself in Nancy’s orbit, despite Nancy’s discomfort. People have a tendency to discount her ideas and not listen to her. She was an unknown variable in a stressful situation. However, the situation allowed them to really talk and the start of a connection was created. Robin had listened to her, and had validated her theory. 

Nancy was starting to like her.

What did she do next? Take advantage of the situation they were in, to sneakily attempt to grow closer. It wasn’t just the fact that Robin was competent and Nancy respected her after the library, but because she wanted to spend time with her. There were plenty of options within the group of competent people, yet Nancy repeatedly singled Robin out. Nancy was trying to become friends.

I say take advantage of it though, because it is a lot less stressful to initiate conversations with someone if you have an excuse. ('They were in a dangerous situation, it wasn't about wanting to be her friend, whaaatt.' Lies.) Suddenly a lot of the normal social pressure and anxiety around initiating contact is decreased. And look at what Nancy does in that scenario, she immediately reaches out. 

Give her a reason, or a purpose, and she can go up and talk to anyone about anything. Take that away, and she gets too stressed or anxious to be the first. 

Anyway, to sum up, Nancy sticks to people she’s comfortable with. Robin, and maybe Steve depending on how the romance is handled, have managed to maneuver themselves into her comfort zone by the end of season four. She has confirmed friendship with Robin, and as previously established, once Nancy likes you, she is social. She will reach out to you, and spend time with you. 

Outside of danger, she likely takes a while to trust people, so anyone who wants to join in the hangouts would need to be willing to put in some effort and be patient with her, but it isn't impossible. She wouldn’t avoid them, just stick close to comfort people.

She's not completely anti-social. Nancy is an introvert who struggles to trust, but once you have that trust, she is a reliable friend.

[fromwherespiralhill]

speaking as whisper and of my “own parts”—a part of me, presently called claire, feels trauma is essential to its-her origins. she exists “separately” from “her other”, who is not exactly an own-being like she experiences herself, but is also - and differently - part of me. claire’s separateness is meaningful to her, if not entirely then in part, because it lets her hold trauma near her. she and the rest of me share in being me. it is impossible for any of me to be removed from my-our trauma. however, claire’s agency enables her to take control and responsibility for my-our living-experience and living-processing of trauma.

do these make her “traumagenic”? it is easy to argue truama is essential to her - really it is - and possible to argue it is the essense of her. that she is purposeless without her relations of trauma.

this is possibly so. there is a connection to the term “traumagenic” because it describes genesis, beginning. now with agency, she is inevitably also her own being, and so she exists as someone entire, not “just” a vessel-vassal for trauma. it is possible for her to find many things meaningful to her experience of herself which do not directly recall to trauma. if this occurs - and it is occurring - then does the connection to “traumagenic” weaken, because other aspects of her come not from trauma? or does it remain as strong as ever, because she comes from trauma, and this is an ever-constant truth of her own origin - saying nothing in itself of her continued experience?

i believe claire finds it meaningful to “muse” on this (through my words-motions). it is quite possible to find meaning by open exploring. that experience of exploring is emotionally resonant to her because she cares where she comes from. she does not necessarily want to “understand” it better - there is a truth that the innermost understanding is not just inherent-implicit, but (overtly) immutable - but… she does wish for better language, better expression, for herself. she desires ways to communicate. in this regard a label is as useful as you can not just provide but qualify it to another. she thinks that may be worth seeking, for herself

however i… do feel a reticence about this, too. there is an unease, a concern that i do not want labels which i may use to convey myself, whether sufficient on-own or as a conversation starter. — this exists within me too. it is not clear if it “comes from” claire but i believe it relates to her, at least. — i do not necessarily want to communicate to others. i do not necessarily want to be able to communicate to others. some matters are private and sensitive, vulnerable and raw; and i do not think it is good in-and-of-itself to share. i do think there is goodness that often comes of-and-through sharing, but not that sharing itself is good.

what do i make of this? of these sentiments coexisting inside me? i suspect they oppose each other in ways that are fundamental - irreconcilable - and more nuanced than i understand presently. i have a rough image that these ends cannot possibly meet in their essense, and figure this is why claire herself has … become “herself”. i figure she is basically here “with a purpose” to describe what she is by describing what she is not, and that this is - not just to her but, deeply to me, too - key to… finding my own way, my own wholeness, in this moment

our experience is in some ways as it’s always been: i will enable myself to find utility and purpose in finding-deciding labels for myself (or my parts), and i will enable myself to feel worry and unease in the very same. let the feelimgs both be. they are contradictory, but that is their nature. i would not feel both if both were not in need of being felt. the rest will come as it does; first i let myself breathe.

Genuinely having a really interesting conversation about origincourse and origins in general, and I came upon a revelation I think I had ages ago, but only is coming back now. Be warned, my brain is currently leaking through my nose and the fog has taken its place, so words might be ridiculous.

Origins don't matter, unless they do. By that I mean, if they help you to know or share, then wonderful, but otherwise, I see absolutely no point in having an origin label.

For instance:

I am a mixed-origin, DID, traumagenic system. And I do see all three of those things to be true, simultaneously, for me. I label that way because it helps me to understand why specific parts split, and helps me to focus less on my trauma and more on what we've become. (Maybe I'll ramble about it one day when I feel a little better.)

For others, however, maybe identifying as a specific kind of origin doesn't help at all. And in that case, I don't think it's important for them to know their origins. I don't... think it's really important at all, unless that person finds help (like I do).

I think there's just so much focus on origins in the community, and genuinely, I think... there's way too much. It's just harmful, in mny ways, how much people focus on them.

nd also-- My origins include my DID, but DID in of itself is not inherently an origin!!!! I should be able to talk about it.