#but with that logic I’m never going to be normal and okay and then I’ll never hear from anyone and that’s just a not good cycle I’ve trapped

[babybluebae-933]

I haven’t heard a word you’ve said, and… I’ll get you to Vulcan somehow.

One day I will write an entire essay about this moment but for now this is all I have in me.

This is the kindest thing Kirk could have said to Spock in this moment, and it shows how well Kirk knows him. He doesn’t try to convince him that he shouldn’t be embarrassed about it (well he does at first, Vulcans are not the birds and the bees captain) he doesn’t try to convince him to be logical about it. Being embarrassed is SO illogical and Spock fucking knows that and reminding him of that fact would only make it worse.

He literally begs to be locked away, he begs Kirk to basically take him out back and put him out of his misery old yeller style. SPARE him the indignity of explaining himself to anyone or being subjected to the will of his own deep dark desires and motives. Kirk orders him to explain and Spock says no that some things transcend even the discipline of the service (then Kirks like ok what if I pinky promise I won’t tell and Spocks like ok fine, which is also so cute but a whole other thing) either way it’s obvious he would literally rather die than tell anyone what’s going on, and he’s actively trying to run away from it.

I thought I would be spared the indignity… but the ancient drives are too strong, eventually it catches up.

This is why Kirk is so special, and this is why he understands Spock better than anyone else. Humans have pride, humans have ego. Spock decided to live the Vulcan way and swear off all that stuff but it’s still inside him. We can assume one of two things, either he truly never has any emotions, or he has them but won’t show them. And God damn if being that fucking stubborn isn’t the most human thing about him. I can’t remember which episode it is but some other time when a red shirt is laying into him for being so cold and insensitive Bones gets defensive, and Spock says it’s okay doctor-

Sometimes they forget I’m half human too.

You can be half human, but you can’t be half Vulcan, you can’t be “half” emotionless. He would be ashamed to let the mask slip, and he’s ashamed that he would feel shame for this. For showing his human nature, because that is the MOST un-Vulcan thing to do. What do they expect from him? To show his feelings would be humiliating, hiding them gets him ridiculed, they bully him for it, yet no one ever treats him as if he could have any feelings about the matter at hand, whatever it may be.

When Spock is insisting that he never feels such trivial emotions as anger or annoyance or fear he is convincing himself as much as anyone else, that is his comfort. It’s true as long as he and everyone else believes it. It’s his comfort and everyone else’s in some cases; if all else fails we can at least count on Spock being cold and logical.

It’s no use to convince him that he shouldn’t be embarrassed because it’s natural or because it happens to everyone or whatever the reason is; because

Spock knows that already. Biology and nature are factual and neutral

Spock knows that being embarrassed is totally illogical

He also knows that being embarrassed especially about something that IS so natural and normal is super-duper un-Vulcan like

The human side of him is what makes him defend his emotionality (non-emotionality?) with such fervor. Motherfucker is so stubborn and so prideful, so Vulcan, but distinctly human.

To assure Spock “aw it’s okay buddy don’t be embarrassed it happens to everyone!” would be a triple knife; acting like he doesn’t know that the facts of life are neutral, unavoidable, and imminent. Acknowledging that he is embarrassed which is so non-Vulcan. AND telling him how being embarrassed especially about this particular instance is extra illogical.

Kirk gets all that, he knows Spock gets all that, and he sees him for who he really is, not the human side or the Vulcan side, just Spock. So, he gives him a very specific brand of mercy, “None of this ever happened, I saw nothing. But now I at least know enough to help you.”

(If we want to take this further I could also remind you of the Edith Keeler conversation when Kirk basically tells her that “let me help” means more than “I love you”.)

I just love this moment so much and I love them.

[kavehater]

Man I just give up.

[whimsyprinx]

i think the worst part of it all is that i still have the tiniest bit of hope that things will magically het better or improve even though I know that’s not likely and idk how that would even happen

[alotofpockets]

Regret | Alexia Putellas x Reader & Leah Williamson x Best Friend!Reader

Summary: Where Alexia regrets breaking up with you.

A/n: happiest of birthdays to @greynatomy 💗 Also pretend that everything in italics is actually said in spanish :)

Woso masterlist | Words: 2.8k

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You checked your phone when you got back to the locker room after practice. The name you were hoping to see wasn’t among your notifications, so you dropped it back in your pocket with a sombre look. Leah noticed the action she had repeatedly seen over the past couple of days, and decided that she had waited long enough to not ask questions. “Movie night at my place tonight.” By the way she didn’t say it in the form of a question, you knew there was no getting out of this. “Fine, but you’re ordering pizza.” Leah smiled, having achieved what she wanted, “You know I would never say no to pizza.” 

That’s how you found yourself in front of the apartment you knew all too well. When you moved from Barcelona to England just six months ago, Leah had taken you in for the first few weeks, until you found a place in London. Your national teammate Laia had offered as well, but as much as you loved her you took the bed offered by Leah over the offer of her couch. Which ended up being a great decision because you and Leah got close right away, and you would call her one of your best friends currently. You check your phone once more, hoping for that one name to show up, but it wasn’t there so you used the spare key to let yourself into Leah’s place.

“I’ll be out in a minute.” Leah yelled out from her bedroom. You quickly put a fake smile on your face when you heard her walking towards you. Leah pretended to not notice for now, and greeted you like nothing happened. She hoped that in the comfort of a one on one hang out you would open up to her on your own, but when you were half way through the movie, and you still hadn’t said anything, she decided that she had given you enough time to come to her. So, the next time your phone buzzed, and your face fell without opening the notification, she paused the movie. “Okay, what’s going on?” You look anywhere but at her, “Nothing is going on Lee, let’s just watch the movie.” 

However, Leah wasn’t going to move on so quickly. “You keep checking your phone, and then looking disappointed, and don’t tell me I’m wrong because I’ve been noticing it all week. Please just tell me what’s going on. Is it Ale?” Your eyes snapped up at the mention of your girlfriend’s name. The broken look behind them said enough for Leah to know that it had everything to do with Alexia. “What did she do? Do I need to fly to Barca to knock some sense into her?” You sigh in frustration, “It isn’t exactly what she did, it’s what she hasn’t done.” Leah was ready to listen and nodded for you to continue. “So, she’s barely spoken to me all week. No video calls, or regular calls, just a couple texts here and there. I keep trying to have a normal conversation with her, and I just get short answers. I’ve asked if she’s okay, and she just keeps saying that everything is fine.” Tears well in your eyes. “It’s not fine though. It can’t be fine, if she’s literally shutting me out.” 

Your phone lights up in the middle of your conversation, and both of you stare at the message that popped up on your screen. 

Alexia: Can we talk?

The dreaded message that you were expecting to receive in the back of your mind. Though you didn’t know the extent of the talk she wanted to have, you knew it couldn’t mean something good after this week. “Are you okay?” Leah put her hand on your knee. “No I’m not, but let’s just get this call over with.” She nodded in understanding, with a squeeze of your knee she got up. “I’ll be in my room if you need anything.”

Y/n: Sure, call me

In the back of your mind you knew exactly what this conversation was going to result in, Alexia had been pulling away from you, so there was only one logical outcome of this call for you. You picked up the video call, “Hey.” You left out all nicknames, not wanting to put in unnecessary effort, plus it’s not like she said 'hi' before asking you if you could talk. “Hi y/n, oh you’re not home, we can just talk later.” It felt like a stab in your chest, hearing her use your first name. With a shake of your head you say, “It’s fine, let’s just get this over with, Ale.” 

Alexia started shuffling around nervously. “I’m sorry to do this over a call, but I think we need to break up.” There it was, the words you had seen coming, but still hurt more than you could have imagined. You stared blankly at your screen, not really knowing what to say. Alexia understood, and continued talking. “It’s just been hard on me to do this whole distance thing. There’s a lot going on, and I just need you here by my side. I know I can’t ask you to move back, because you deserve to play at your dream club. So, I think that what’s best for me right now is for us to let each other go.” Tears were now rolling down your cheeks. “Why is the first I’m hearing of this while you’re breaking up with me? I thought communication was so important to you. How long have you been feeling this way?” There was an anger to your tone that made Alexia not be able to keep eye contact. “I didn’t come to this decision rashly, if that’s what you’re asking.” You blink away the tears, your sadness making room for anger. “How long, Alexia?” You stared at her angrily until you got an answer. “About a month.” 

“You are unbelievable. How could you just not say anything? You literally didn’t even give us a fighting chance.” The tears were back. “I’m sorry.” Alexia said softly. “Save your sorrys, they’re not going to fix this.” She nodded, “I know.” You close your eyes, “I guess this is it then.” With a defeated sigh you open your eyes again. “I’m really sorry.” You roll your eyes, “Save it. I’m going to hang up now, I need some space.” With a shaking finger you pressed the end call button without giving Alexia a chance to respond. 

After giving yourself a minute you make your way over to Leah’s room, which you enter after a soft knock. You found her sitting with her headphones on, even though she didn’t understand Spanish, she still wanted to give you your space, which you appreciated. Leah didn’t need to hear you say the words, she could read on your face that it was exactly what you had been thinking. “Oh love, come here.” She patted the bed and opened her arms. You laid down without a second thought, and let her hold you tight. In the comfort of her arms, your tears flowed freely. 

You stayed the night at Leah’s, you didn’t have to ask, and she didn’t have to offer, it just was. Leah had fallen asleep a while ago. You were glad that you weren’t ruining her sleep as well, because you had an early wake up call for a match in the morning. Your mind kept running circles. Three years down the drain like it was nothing, how could she just break-up with you without ever voicing her troubles? 

At some point you must’ve fallen asleep though, because Leah gently shook you awake. “Hey, I’ve got breakfast ready.” You send her a questioning look, Leah didn’t cook. “Okay fine, you’ve got me. Lia picked up breakfast on the way over.” With a small smile you get up and follow her to the kitchen. By the way Lia held you just a little longer in the hug, you knew that Leah had told her. “Stop it Wally, you're going to make me cry.” You didn't mind Leah telling her, cause it meant that it would be one less person you would have to tell yourself. “Thank you for the food, but I'm not really hungry.” Lia nodded, “Okay, I'll just pack some of it up for you then, you're gonna have to eat something before the match.” You knew she was right, so you let her pack up some food, and add it to your backpack, while you slumped down on the couch.

Lia and Leah were talking in the kitchen, while you were staring at the living room ceiling. Your phone dings with a new message, and out of habit you check it right away. The name you so desperately wanted to see pop up all week, now made your stomach turn, and your heart clench.

Alexia: I'm really sorry, I never meant to hurt you. 

You threw your phone in frustration, the device landing on the floor with a loud tud, making Leah enter the room right away. “What's wrong?” Leah picks up the phone and checks if it's okay in the process. “Fucking Alexia clearly doesn't understand what needing space means.” Leah rolled her eyes, “She never learned to listen, did she?” In the short time that Leah had known you, she had heard you complain about the little communication things Alexia lacked to improve on many times. 

Lia entered the living room, “Sorry to interrupt, but we need to head out or we're going to miss the bus.” You grab your bag and head to the front door, without a care for your phone, so Leah pockets it in case you would want it later. Lia headed to the driver's seat, and you took the back, letting Leah sit in front with Lia. You were down, and did not want to pull either one of them down with you, especially not before a match.

You arrived at London Colney for a final pre-match meeting to go over the tactics. Usually, once you arrived you mingled with your teammates, but now you stuck to Leah's side like a lost puppy. Arsenal had taken you in as a part of their own right from the start, you loved the family vibe the team had, and often found yourself amongst the jokers in the group. Today however when a hyper looking Kyra and Beth made their way over, you didn't budge when they tried to pull you away. “What’s up with you, party pooper?” Beth asks with a furrowed brow. “Ale broke up with me, are you happy now?” You snapped at the striker, loud enough for the rest of the team to hear. With widened eyes you apologise to Beth, before you walk out of the room, not being able to handle all your teammates staring at you with pity. Beth wanted to follow you to apologise, but Leah stopped her. “It’s okay, just let her be for a moment.”

After a few minutes you entered the room again, so the meeting could start. “I’m sorry.” Beth whispers, as you sit down next to her. You lean your head on her shoulder, “No, I’m sorry.” She wrapped her arm around you for the duration of the meeting, hoping to offer some comfort.

On the bus towards the stadium you were playing at today you sat by yourself in the front row, while the rest of the team sat together in the back, still needing a bit of space. Once the bus started driving, Leah walked up to the front. “I’m fine, Lee.” You said before even letting her say anything. “I know you are, just thought you would like these for the drive.” She handed you her headphones and her phone. “Thank you.” You appreciated her and her thoughtfulness, having her phone to play music would mean no messages from Alexia popping up.

Your anger towards Alexia showed in your playing style that match, you were more aggressive, and sliding in any time you could. At one point Leah had to tell you to take it easy, but you managed to get away without any cards, and the team won the match.

The next few weeks you had to get over Alexia. You didn’t want to live in the bubble of sadness that the breakup had created around you. It helped not being in the same country as her, not being able to just walk into her, and also your surroundings not having her written all over them. You spend a lot of your time with your Arsenal teammates, weekly bonding nights with the whole team, and random outings with one group or another. 

When international break was around the corner, you felt confident in saying you were mostly over Alexia. Sure, some things still hurt you, but in your mind you could still be affected by something even though you were over your ex.

Laia was sitting next to you at the airport gate when the rooming schedule was shared in the group, you scanned for your name, and realised they had kept you with Alexia just like last camp. Laia must’ve seen it too, because without having to mention anything, she told you she would get it sorted. She got her roommate to switch with you, so you would room with Laia for this camp.

When you arrived at the Spanish training grounds, you were happy to see your teammates again, but seeing Alexia amongst them was definitely a mood crusher. You tried to push those thoughts to the back of your mind, and just ignore and avoid her, so you would be able to enjoy the time with your friends. You were mostly able to do that, for about an hour. That is when Alexia came knocking on your door. Laia is the one to open, “Hey, is y/n here?” You didn’t want to put Laia in the middle of your issues with Alexia, so you walked to the door. “What do you want?” Her eyes diverted to the ground, “Can we talk for a moment?” You didn’t want to talk, but knew that it was probably for the best, if you were going to be at the same location for the upcoming two weeks, as well as playing together. So, you close the door behind you and follow her to an empty room in the building. 

It stayed silent for a few minutes, long awkward minutes in your experience, but you weren’t going to start whatever conversation Alexia wanted to have. So, you waited for Alexia to speak up while inspecting every uninteresting thing in the room. “Y/n, I really messed up. I miss you, I should have never broken up with you. I should’ve fought for us, I wish I fought for us. Can I still fight for us?” You couldn’t believe what she was saying. “You really hurt me, Alexia. I don’t think you understand how much pain you’ve caused me.” Alexia steps towards you, “Trust me, I do understand. I’ve been miserable over this.” You take a step back right away, “If you understood, you wouldn’t be asking me for a second chance. I can never trust you the way I did before. You didn’t fight for us when you needed to. We are over Ale, there no longer is an us to fight for.” And with that you left the room. 

The week of training before the two friendlies you would play went by fast. You avoided Alexia as much as possible, but during training exercises you set aside your differences because football was a team effort, and you didn’t want your personal situation to affect the team’s results.

Your first friendly against Italy went down without a hitch, earning a final score of 4-1. You were however looking forward to your second friendly against England more. Not only playing against your Arsenal teammates Leah, Beth, Alessia, and Lotte, but also seeing them again. It hadn’t been that long ago of course, but since you were so close with the team, you were missing them dearly.

After a 2-2 draw you walked around the field shaking hands with the Lionesses, and found Leah on the field who you brought in for a hug. She kissed your cheek before Beth came flying in with a hug, but the moment wasn’t missed by Alexia who had been watching the interaction from the dugout. You had told her the two of you were over, but that interaction finalised it for her. You really weren’t hers anymore.

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[slytherinshua]

SLEEP IS THE BEST MEDICINE

genre. fluff. sickfic. warnings. reader is sick (sore throat/coughing). mention of food. pairing. seungkwan x fem!reader. wc. 1.4k. request. no. a/n. for @wheeboo who is sick and so i had to write her a sickfic smh (i love her sm pls feel better soon lovely)

As soon as you heard the buzzing of your phone breaking through your attempt at sleep, panic filled your body. One glance at the caller ID confirmed everything, and you shut your eyes tightly, trying to muster up all your energy and a half-decent attempt to get your normal voice back before you answered.

Of course your boyfriend would be calling to check where you were. You were supposed to meet him 30 minutes ago. Not only had you forgotten all about the date you had planned days in advance, but you had also managed to get sick since the last time you had seen him (and forgot to tell him about it).

Seungkwan’s voice sounded cheery as soon as you picked up the call, “Hey, love! Is the traffic bad or something? I’m at the restaurant— people keep giving me looks cause they think I’m dining alone.”

A small smile crept onto your face as you imagined the scene, guessing that your boyfriend probably wore a pout on his face just by the tone of his voice.

“About that… I kind of forgot?” You started to explain, your voice coming out in a painful rasp even as you tried your best to clear your throat.

“Are you sick? You sound awful.” Seungkwan asked hurriedly, completely ignoring what you were trying to tell him. You tried to think of a good excuse to give him, but the silence in response to his question already gave Seungkwan his answer.

“You are sick, aren’t you! Why didn’t you tell me?” He scolded lightly. You could imagine vividly the way he usually pursed his lips in disapproval, and a sigh left your lips. You had really been looking forward to the date, now that you remembered that it had been scheduled. It had been weeks since you spent more than an hour or so with Seungkwan, and you missed him so badly.

“I’m sorry, Kwannie. Can we reschedule it? I still want to go with you.” You said softly, clearing your throat between sentences in failed attempts to stop the uncomfortable scratching every time you talked. 

A dinner date with your boyfriend at a seaside restaurant was exactly what you wished you could be doing right now. If only you hadn’t gotten sick at exactly the wrong time, you would be enjoying a fancy meal across from him right about now. You knew the night would have led to a walk along the shoreline under the moonlight— something that you never got tired of. And it would have been chilly enough for you to justify stealing Seungkwan’s jacket (you really just loved it because it smelled like him, and was so perfectly oversized on you).

“Of course. That’s not even a question.” He replied with a tsk, wondering why you would even have to ask that with such a regretful tone. The night certainly wasn’t ruined for him, even though he had been looking forward to the date as much as you had. “I’ll come over. We can still eat dinner together, okay?”

Your heart melted at his suggestion, though you were tentative to accept immediately. Logically, you should probably stay away from him just in case he got sick too; but you wanted nothing more than to curl up in his arms and sleep. You opened your mouth to start protesting, your mind finally winning over your heart, but then you remembered how stubborn your boyfriend was. Even if you forbid him from coming in your front door, he would probably scale the side of the house and sneak in through one of the windows just to get to you.

With a cough, and a small ‘okay’, you hung up the call and let your head hit the pillow again. You swiped over to your phone camera, frowning when you saw how you looked. Seungkwan would probably arrive still in his date outfit, looking as charming and handsome as he always did— and here you were looking like a complete mess under your blankets. From your tired eyes to your tangled hair to the patches of skin that were breaking out on your face due to the cold weather, you would look almost disgraceful next to your boyfriend.

You itched to get up and put on makeup before he arrived, but you knew he would notice right away and be absolutely appalled. You were too tired to put in the effort either way. It was silly for you to still care so much about how you looked even after dating Seungkwan for years, but you still wanted to look pretty for him. You forced your mind to give yourself a little grace about your appearance. It was absurd to expect to look your best while sick.

Seungkwan arrived sooner than you expected, announcing his presence at the door in a sing-song voice. You croaked out that you were in your bedroom as loudly as you could with how painful it was to talk and hoped that he was able to hear you. He knocked on your door a mere second later, opening it slowly. He had a goofy loving smile on his face and a plastic bag in one hand. You couldn’t help but mirror his smile as soon as you saw him.

“I got some soup on the way. It’s supposed to help with colds.” He explained eagerly, setting down the bag on your bedside table and taking out a large container of soup. He opened up the lid to let it start cooling before turning his attention back to you.

“My sweet girl. I only left you for 1 week and you still managed to get sick in that time.” He teased fondly, sitting on the edge of your bed where he could easily reach to tuck away the hair that fell over your forehead. You only frowned in response, trying to rest your voice as much as possible. It was easier to communicate non-verbally when your boyfriend could see all your facial expressions.

“Sit up a bit so I can feed you.” Seungkwan instructed with a smile, grabbing the container of soup and spooning out some to blow on.

“I can feed myself.” You whispered.

Seungkwan locked eyes with you, “I know, but let me feed you anyway. You never let me do anything for you.” You scoffed lightly at his response, although it made your chest buzz with warmth. It was clear that the opportunity to pamper and take care of you excited Seungkwan. Knowing your boyfriend, it didn’t surprise you.

The soup was soothing on your sore throat, and just the fact that Seungkwan was right there feeding you each spoonful gave you the energy to actually finish the bowl. He told you about his past week as he fed you, making sure that each bit of soup was sufficiently cooled before it reached your mouth. He gave you a proud smile once you had eaten the last bit of soup, despite how unimpressive the feat had been— certainly not one deserving of such praise.

“You look tired.” Seungkwan commented softly, setting aside the empty container of soup back on the table and adjusting your blanket to cover your entire body again. You hummed a little in response, already letting your eyes flutter closed. As soon as you felt the tiniest bit of motion, though, your hand flew out to clutch your boyfriend’s shirt tightly.

“Don’t leave.” You pleaded, earning light laughter from your boyfriend.

“I was only going to go wash out the container, but I guess that’ll have to wait.” He already knew exactly what you wanted just by your eyes. He wasn’t one to deny you anything when you were already feeling under the weather, so he shifted over to the other side of the bed where there was space for him to lie down and draped an arm around your body.

“If I get sick from this, you have to take care of me, too, okay?” 

“Okay.” You closed your eyes again, shifting closer to him half a centimetre at a time in an attempt to be discreet. Of course, he noticed right away and pulled you closer before you were even halfway done closing the distance.

“Sleep. Sleep is the best medicine.” He urged you quietly. It was already a million times easier to fall asleep next to him, but as soon as he started humming old lullabies, the task became almost effortless. You were curled up in his chest before too long; the sound of his singing making its way into your dreams.

↳ svt taglist: @kangtaehyunzzz,, @eternalgyu,, @ddeonudepressions,, @hannahsophie0103,, @minholing,, @shuabby1994,, @icyminghao,, @98-0603,, @weird-bookworm,, @candewlsy,, @wonwooz1,, @cyberpunksunwoo,, @haecien,, @amara-mars,, @okshu

[sailorholly]

Between Us Pt 5

Summary: You and Spencer had a casual relationship. A misunderstanding ruins it all.

Pairing: Spencer Reid × F. BAU Reader

Warnings: Friends with benefits. Angst. Pregnancy.

See my Masterlist Here

Part 4

“Pregnant? How did this happen? I mean, I know how it happened but - Wow!” He runs over to you, placing one large had on your nonexistent bump. “I can’t believe we are pregnant. How far along are we?” Anger and disbelief surge through you.

“First of all, I am pregnant. Me, not you.” Spencer’s smile drops, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.” You sigh, this was a better reaction than you were expecting. You thought he would freak out. Although, you aren’t sure why. Spencer loves kids. He was never mean to you before. He wasn’t like the guys you normally dated.

“No, I’m sorry. These hormones are ridiculous. I know what you meant. And to answer your other question, the doctor said about six weeks. But, that was over a week ago. I’m probably almost eight weeks now. I have an ultrasound scheduled for the end of the week if you would like to come with me.” He looks hopeful, nodding his head as his smile widens. “Of course I would love to go. This is great. I gotta call my mom. I’ll clean out my spare bedroom so we can turn it into a nursery. I’ll need help moving some of my things into storage so we will have room for your stuff too. Maybe Morgan will help.”

“Wait, my stuff?” You ask, interrupting his rambling. “Yeah, you’ll be bringing your stuff too. You can put what we don’t have room for in storage with my things.” You cross your arms, preparing to argue. “Why would I bring my stuff to your place?” Spencer scrunches up his nose, “Because you’ll be living there?” He looks just as confused as you are.

“I’m not moving in with you, Spencer. Your spare bedroom is too small for me and the baby. There’s not enough room. Plus, you don’t need me there with our baby. That would be so hard to explain when you bring women home.” You mentioned other women because you were fairly certain his relationship with Ashley wouldn’t last. You place your hands on your hips, trying to understand his silly logic.

“I thought you could sleep with me, and the baby would have their own room. Why would I bring women home when I’m dating you?” Your eyes feel like they are going to pop out of your head. “Spencer, we aren’t dating.”

“But, I thought we would be a family now that you’re pregnant.” He explains. “We will be a family, but one that coparents. You’re going to be a great dad, Spence. I would never keep your baby from you. But, this doesn’t change anything between us. You didn’t want me before, and I don’t like that you only want me now because you got me pregnant.”

“But that’s not why I-“ “I don’t want to argue about this. We are really good friends and I would like it to stay that way for the baby.” “Okay.” He agrees, but you can tell you hurt his feelings, so you change the subject to what you will need for the baby.

You make a list, putting double the items down since Spencer will keep them at his apartment too. He’s going to ask for a leave for the first two months after the baby is born so he doesn’t miss anything. He will be staying at your apartment during those months. When he’s comfortable enough to have the baby alone, you will work out a new schedule.

Spencer orders some parenting books for the both of you online. He is so excited. You’re thankful that he’s the father, he’s a great guy. You just wish it could have worked between the two of you. “How are you going to tell Ashley? I don’t think it will go well.” You tell him, scrunching your face up. His face falls, “I forgot about Ashley.”

Tags

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[erindrinkstea]

Please Please Please

Poly! Dark! 141 x Reader

TW: Dark Themes, Spicy Themes, Possessive Behavior, Obsessive Behavior, Violence, Blood, Death

Description, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Main Masterlist | CoD Masterlist

Note: The long awaited Part Four!

"Ah, fuck."

The words slipped out as the crushing pain yanked you from the merciful void of unconsciousness, jolting you back into the harsh reality of the suffering you’d momentarily escaped.

“Settle down, sweetheart.” The gruff voice grated on your nerves, and you groaned, too hazy to register who was speaking but annoyed enough to resent the command.

"Easy for you to say." you hissed, batting away the hand rubbing your shoulder. "Feels like I got dragged down from Heaven straight into Hell."

“As much as Heaven might miss its angel, I’m not nearly saintly enough to let you go just yet.” Another deep, rough voice cut in, the familiar chill of it snapping you back to reality.

“Price? Ghost?” You blinked, coming to your senses. “Holy shit. I’m alive?”

Their expressions darkened at that.

“Of course you are. We’d skin the medics alive if you weren’t.” Ghost chuckled, though there wasn’t a hint of humor in it. The edge in his tone made you suspect he wasn’t joking.

"How was the mission?" you asked, worry sparking for the victims left in that hellish place.

"All civilians are on the path to recovery. And you should be too.” Price replied, casting you a look that was half-reassurance, half-warning.

“You were reckless. Careless enough to be suicidal." Ghost scolded, and you resisted the urge to roll your eyes.

“We’re in the military. We’re the 141. Everything we do is suicidal, lieutenant.” you shot back, unapologetic.

“I know. But a bit of caution wouldn’t kill you.” Ghost narrowed his eyes, holding firm. Normally, you’d relish the back-and-forth, but the weight of exhaustion from skirting death kept you quiet this time.

“Think I’ll catch a little more shut-eye before getting thrown back into the fire.” you muttered, gesturing toward the door. “If you’d kindly leave, gentlemen.”

They exchanged a look, hesitating for a moment before nodding and stepping out. Weirdos.

As the door shut behind them, you let out a relieved sigh. The tension in the room had felt suffocating, like a collar around your neck with the way those two had stared down at you. It was terrifying, to say the least.

You stared up at the ceiling for a few minutes, deciding that thinking too much about it would only add to your headache. Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath, letting yourself drift back to sleep.

☕︎︎

“How were they?” The moment Ghost and Price left the room, they were bombarded by the two sergeants waiting outside.

“Were they breathing okay?” “Is their pain under control? Do they need more meds?” “Were they able to talk? Were they coherent?”

“They're fine.” Price raised a hand, silencing them both immediately. “Just very tired. They needs rest.”

“You will not disturb them. Give them space and time.” Ghost ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument. Soap and Gaz looked ready to protest, but he cut them off.

“They're exhausted. They need rest, and we’re going to give them all the time they wants to heal. Fussing over them now will only stress them out.”

Ghost’s stern logic shut down any further protests, leaving both of them nodding reluctantly.

“What can we do for them in the meantime?” Soap’s voice was laced with desperation. He hated just standing around and waiting—it was never his strong suit. Patience was possible, but only up to a point, and right now, he was far too agitated to have an ounce of patience in him.

“We’ll give them all the time they need, Johnny. That’s all we can do until they walks out of those doors,” Ghost replied.

“That’ll be easy enough. We’ve gotten away with worse than a bit of extra time to rest.” Kyle shrugged, a knowing smirk on his face. It wasn’t exactly a secret that special forces sometimes received certain privileges, and a little bending of the rules came with the territory.

“I’ll head to the kitchens and cook something up for our birdie.” Gaz grinned, clearly proud of his idea. “They'll feel better with something warm and savory in their stomach.” Gaz was probably the only decent cook in the 141.

John hadn’t set foot in a kitchen in ages. Simon could cook, but the man had no sense of seasoning; whatever he made would end up either too bland or overwhelmingly spicy. And Johnny? He’d either blow up the kitchen or whip up some abomination that was more science experiment than food.

“I can help!” Soap perked up, only to have Ghost pinch the back of his neck in warning. “We don’t need a burnt-down kitchen, Johnny. We have enough people in the med bay as it is.”

Ghost nearly laughed at Soap’s sulking expression. “Come on, you can help me with paperwork instead.” Soap’s face turned from sulking to horrified as Ghost steered him off to work.

Price chuckled and shook his head before heading to his own office to file some papers. He’d have to talk to Laswell about the extended rest period as well. She’d likely be the easiest to convince, considering how much she cared about you.

The 141 will take good care of you from now on, don't worry.

[perfectlyoongi]

OLDER-BROTHER!NAMJOON who calls you to sleep over at his house when he feels heavier. Namjoon wasn’t a machine. although he put on the pretense that he was an adult man who could bear everything and everyone, the truth was that there were nights where his heart felt tight and all Namjoon wanted was your comfort. growing up with you showed Namjoon that it was normal to be human, and on several days you and Namjoon shared so many hurts and tribulations that there was no secret between you. so, when he needed extra support or a reminder that the world is okay, Namjoon would call you and, in a low voice, a little embarrassed, he would say: “can you sleep here today? something happened at work that made me… please?”

OLDER-BROTHER!NAMJOON who always posts a picture of a trash can on your birthday. he would never admit it, but Namjoon would do anything to protect you. and to annoy you. you’re not sure when it started; since you remember, you always suffered from this little quirk of Namjoon’s. and even though you were compared to trash for so long, you still fought with Namjoon as soon as you woke up on your birthday. why did he always send you a long, deep message saying how much he loved you when he put a green bin full of boxes with your name on it? couldn’t he show the world a little bit how much he really liked you? why did it have to be a secret? “happy birthday, my favorite trashcan! today marks another year that i realized that it was possible to love the person who annoys you the most. after all, you always love me, even when i always get on your nerves.”

OLDER-BROTHER!NAMJOON who hides you at his house when there are problems with your parents. did you got home later than they asked? did you raise your voice to your mother as if you were talking to your friends? did you simply need some time away from your parents? Namjoon was there for you. you didn’t need to explain to him what happened, you didn’t need to tell him that you were going to stop by the house. when you needed it, he was there. always, and forever. protecting you and giving you a sanctuary where you could take a deep breath when you needed it. “i made a copy of the house keys for you. that way you don’t have to send me messages anymore. you can come over even when i’m out of town. make yourself comfortable as long as you need.”

OLDER-BROTHER!NAMJOON who sends you hundreds of messages when you’re busy just to annoy you. even though he had a busy schedule and very little time to rest, Namjoon made sure to integrate you into all of his breaks. you were Namjoon’s favorite person, which also made you his favorite person to bother. so, message after message, vibration after vibration, Namjoon filled your chat with words, letters, numbers, nothing really important, but it was enough to entertain him between one rehearsal and another. “hello today i got up early it was windy 🌬️🌬️🌬️ and the wind was strong 💪💨 so strong that i flew !!!!!! i almost flew i am a big man i don’t fly 🕺💅💁‍♂️ but you can fly you could be mary poppins ☂️ 🕴️ i’ll buy you a red coat you will be just like her 🤣🤣🫂👍”

OLDER-BROTHER!NAMJOON who doesn’t talk to you until he surprises you. you told Namjoon everything and Namjoon told you everything. your dynamic has always been full of mutual understanding and patience on both sides. that’s why you no longer felt sad or offended when Namjoon refused your calls, didn’t even open your messages and was never at home or at work. you knew that if Namjoon was avoiding you it was because he was preparing some surprise for you. if he bought something or planned a date, the truth is that Namjoon would do everything not to meet you before the day he surprises you. it wasn’t really Namjoon’s fault, you knew that — your relationship was very deep and it was difficult to look at you without unwinding all the plans in his mind. the only logical solution was to avoid you. “finally! i thought i was going to die without giving you this. well, it doesn’t matter. congratulations on making the presentation. i’m sure you were amazing.”

OLDER-BROTHER!NAMJOON who defends you like a lawyer when your parents ground you. when you were 5 years old and you pushed a boy just because you wanted to, your parents forbade you from playing outside or watching tv. when Namjoon heard what your parents had done, he went to put on a clean shirt with his best pants and, with his back straight and his head held high, Namjoon started to defend you. since then, he has always been your defense attorney. there were even times when you would force your parents to wait for Namjoon to arrive to talk. it was a small, tender gesture that turned into a habit that always managed to calm tempers when arguments happened. “in my client’s defense, the pantry door was left open by our father. and what do we learn from a young age? that an open door meant you were welcome. so when my client spilled the rice when picking up some biscuits they just made use of our father’s good will.”

OLDER-BROTHER!NAMJOON who encourages you to listen to your impulsive thoughts. get that haircut! buy that green coat. sign up for the lecture. just do it! Namjoon would always be by your side if anything went wrong. Namjoon would fix everything you could possibly screw up. so don’t be afraid. explore. know the world. Namjoon is right behind you supporting any fall there may be. live. find your happiness. there’s nothing in this life that Namjoon can’t solve — for you, he’d even turn off the sun on the hottest days. “if i were you i would buy the special edition. it’s your favorite movie. it may be expensive but it will be worth it. if this is all a scam, i promise to compensate you monetarily and watch the movie with you again.”

[whump-and-other-misfortunes]

Whumpuary 2024 Day 14

14. (Jan 27-28) Flinching / Breakdown / Sleep Deprivation 

cw past trauma, implied noncon/torture, hurt/comfort, aftermath of whump

“You’re slower than usual,” Hero teased when they pinned Villain to the wall. “Lost your edge after that little vacation you took?” 

Villain was breathing heavily. Their hands grasped at Hero’s, which were fisted in the front of their suit, but Villain lacked their typical strength. “Wasn’t a vacation, you jerk,” they huffed. “And I’m doing my best here.” 

Hero pulled one of their hands back, and their heart jumped when Villain flinched away from them; they’d never reacted like that before. The instinctual fear was clearly visible in their eyes.  

“Whoa, hey,” Hero said softly. “I was just gonna—your mask is slipping.” 

Villain looked down, frowning. “Sorry. I just...go ahead.” 

Hero raised their hands slowly and adjusted Villain’s mask, noting the sharp intake of breath when Hero’s fingers grazed their cheek. As they put it back in place, Hero could see a dark bruise hiding under the mask. The slightest bit of purple spread up their cheekbone. 

Villain was trembling when Hero stepped back. 

“Are you okay?” Hero asked. Logically, they knew they should take advantage of Villain’s weakness and bring them in. But they just couldn’t bring themself to be that cruel. 

“When I was gone this week,” Villain whispered, “I was...Supervillain took me hostage. I’ll spare you the details but...they did some shit to me I wouldn’t even do to my enemies.” 

Hero felt their heart ache at the admission and the pained expression in Villain’s eyes when they looked back up. “I’m sorry, I—I had no idea.” 

“Not your fault,” Villain said with a shrug. They tried to force a smile as well, but it didn’t quite work. “But it messed me up pretty good. I can’t sleep. I can’t move without remembering their hands on me.” 

A sick feeling curled in Hero’s stomach as they imagined what the normally collected Villain must have been through to have them on the verge of tears at the memory. They slowly reached out, giving Villain enough time to stop them—but when they didn’t, Hero pulled them into an embrace. “It’s over,” they muttered into Villain’s hair. “You're safe now.” 

Their words seemed to open the floodgates, and suddenly Villain broke down. Hero didn’t know what to do, so they just held their nemesis as they cried. The fact that they’d been in the middle of a fight passed through Hero’s mind, but it didn’t matter now. They were a hero—their job was to help people. Even if those people regularly made their life hell. 

“I’m sorry,” Villain choked out. “This is pathetic. And I—I deserved it.” 

“No one deserves to be hurt like that,” Hero said, rubbing their back in soothing circles. 

Villain tried to steady their breathing as they looked up at Hero, eyes glistening with tears. “Thank you. Just—give me a minute, and we can get back to it.” 

“What do you say we get a rain check,” Hero asked with a small smile, “and you let me buy you a coffee instead?” 

Villain sniffled and rolled their eyes. “As long as you promise to reschedule. Because I was looking forward to kicking your ass.” 

Hero laughed. “Okay, deal.” 

Although the coffee may not have truly fixed anything, it was a welcomed comfort. 

taglist: @morning-star-whump

[cierraonline]

Ouuu whats the new Billie book gonna be about!!?! I’m excited now lol

I’ll Believe It For You

chapter one: I'll believe it for you

masterlist | next chapter

Would it be crazy to say that, as a girl obsessed with orchestral music yet plagued by stage fright, I always knew I was destined for fame?

“Storm, over here!”

“Storm, look over here!”

“Over here, Storm!”

“Storm, how does it feel to be the youngest and fastest artist ever to win an EGOT award?!”

It’s even crazier to think it all began with a favor for my best friend’s older brother.

“Hey, Kitten!” Finneas bounced over to me in Billie’s room, where I was currently sprawled on her bed, working on a composition that seemed to be going nowhere.

“What do you want, Ferb?” Storm groaned, scratching out an entire bar that didn’t make logical sense to the ear.

“How would you like to write and compose a song for my band and Billie’s dance class?” He bent down to her  level on the floor next to the bed.

“Okay,” The girl nodded, looking up at him.

“Than—”

“Not so fast,” Billie interrupted her brother’s gratitude, unimpressed with the one-sided deal. “What does she get in return?” She sat up, suddenly awake from her boredom. Normally, she would be at dance practice around this time, but she’d been sidelined due to the pain in her hip that had been bothering her for a week.

“What do you want?” Finneas groaned, knowing that if his sister was setting the terms, it wouldn’t come cheap.

“Oh,” Storm murmured, my eyes widening as she scrambled to think of what she could ask for. “A miniverse ball… please?”

“Just a miniverse ball?” Both siblings blinked at her in disbelief. One in shock that that was all she would ask for when she held the upper hand; the other, bemused and skeptical.

“Dea—”

“You could drain this sucker’s pockets, and one miniverse ball is all you can think of?” Billie furrowed her brows.

“I like writing music and composing, so it’s not like I’m doing something I don’t want to do. Plus, Ferb always gets Ben & Jerry's when he goes to the store. And you know how I feel about my Ben & Jerry’s,” Storm said, meeting Billie’s gaze, ocean-blue eyes meeting void-white ones.

“Don’t listen to her. She wants five miniverse balls and those Mary Jane leather heels from the thrift store on Melrose,” Billie cut in, looking at her brother with a determined expression.

“No,” Finneas shook his head, convinced she was asking for too much.

“Then no song,” Billie crossed her arms.

Hesitation flickered in Finneas’s eyes as he stared down his little sister, who shot the energy right back at him. Storm glanced back and forth between them, unsure if she should intervene, but knowing the family as well as she did, Storm figured it was better not to—otherwise, She’d be the one on the receiving end of their glares.

“Fine,” Finneas groaned, realizing he’d lost this battle with Billie leading the negotiation. He extended his hand, letting Billie shake on the agreement, while Storm trashed the music sheet she been working on and opened the sketchpad app on her iPad.

Or maybe none of that was crazy. Maybe the real craziness was me, an eleven-year-old, writing a song about how looking into my best friend’s eyes made me feel.

“Hellooo!” Billie waved her hand in front of my face, snapping me out of my trance. “Pay attention to me! Why do you keep looking at me, then going back to writing?”

I've been watching' you for some time

Can't stop staring' at those ocean eyes

Burning cities and napalm skies

Fifteen flares inside those ocean eyes

Your ocean eyes

“If you don’t say anything, I’m going to put together one of your miniverse balls right in front of you,” the blonde threatened, but she was ignored yet again as Storm glanced up from her tablet, made brief eye contact, and returned to writing with renewed intensity.

No fair

You really know how to make me cry

When you gimme those ocean eyes

I'm scared

I've never fallen from quite this high

Falling' into your ocean eyes

Those ocean eyes

Letting out a frustrated breath from deep within her lungs, Billie stood up from the left side of her bed and walked over to where Storm’s new miniverse balls lay. “I’m holding them…” she waved the wrapped balls in her hand, voice laced with mischief. “I’m going to open them…” 

Still, nothing. The moment she began picking at the wrapping, however, Storm’s head snapped up, and her pout quickly formed.

“Nooo,” Storm whined softly, not wanting Billie to open them. Everything about Miniverse was special to her—from unwrapping the tiny treasures to arranging them neatly on her shelf with the others.

“Are you going to talk to me?” Billie tilted her head to the side, eyebrow raised.

“I have to finish writing,” Storm groaned, already anticipating Billie’s disobedience as a form of punishment.

“You can write and talk to me,” Billie shrugged, peeling further at the wrapper.

“Don’t touch those!” Storm protested, wanting her rewards to stay intact.

“You erase anything from my wall if it isn’t ‘happy,’ so I think I��m allowed a little revenge,” Billie replied, defending her actions.

“Because… I don’t get why you’re so sad,” Storm pouted again, her voice soft with concern.

“Because you’re still a kid, Peaches,” Billie replied, finally setting down the miniverse balls. She didn’t really want to open them; she just wanted her best friend’s attention.

“You’re only two years older than me,” Storm crossed her arms defiantly.

“Yeah, and within those two years, I’ve experienced more than you.”

“You said the same thing when you got your period before me.”

“One day, you’ll understand… but, hopefully, that day never comes,” Billie sighed, sitting cross-legged in front of her friend on the bed, her face softening.

“Is it really that bad?” Storm looked up at her, innocent eyes wide.

“It’s the worst,” Billie whispered, leaning forward and resting her head gently on top of Storm’s, closing her eyes and allowing herself to relax.

“One day, I’m gonna make all the sadness go away so you don’t have to feel it anymore.”

“It doesn’t work like that, Peaches,” Billie murmured, sighing softly.

“But it will, Honeybee,” Storm smiled, sensing her friend’s body sink further into relaxation. “You just gotta believe.”

“And what if I don’t believe that?”

“Then I’ll believe it for you,” Storm replied warmly. “That’s what best friends do, regardless of age.”

True friendship knows no age; it's a bond that bridges years, laughs in shared moments, and finds wisdom in each other's hearts.

“It didn’t sound right,” Storm judged as Finneas and his bandmates looked at her and Billie, awaiting feedback on their performance of the song she had written and composed for them.

“It was awful,” Billie shook her head.

“It wasn’t awful,” Storm nudged Billie’s thigh. “It just wasn’t… beautiful. Maybe try a softer approach and create depth.”

“Huh?” Travis, the drummer, looked at the two young girls, visibly puzzled.

“She means you guys are screwed,” Billie stated flatly.

“They’re not!” Storm stood, smiling with encouragement. “We’ll help you.”

“We who?” Billie raised an eyebrow.

“Us we,” Storm grinned. “Now, stand by the microphone and sing. I’ll add depth with my voice.”

“Ugh, fine,” Billie groaned, taking her older brother’s place behind the mic alongside Storm.

“Yay,” Storm’s soft, dark eyes sparkled. “Okay, start from the top.” 

The band picked up from the beginning, creating the soft, melodic sound Storm had spent the last two days carefully crafting and refining.

Billie | Storm

I've been watching' you' for some time. 

Can't stop staring' at those ocean eyes 

Burning cities and napalm skies

Fifteen flares inside those ocean eyes

Your ocean eyes

No fair No fair 

You really know how to make me cry You really know how to make me cry

When you gimme those ocean eyes those ocean eyes

I'm scared

I've never fallen from quite this high

Falling' into your ocean eyes

Those ocean eyes Those ocean eyes

The music stopped leaving the two girls confused. “Why did you guys stop?” Billie turns to them.

“T-That was amazing,” Finneas said, looking at the two girls, his eyes wide with awe. He’d heard them sing together before, but it had always been lighthearted and playful. This was different—an almost out-of-body experience as their voices intertwined, creating something otherworldly.

“It was like… a melodic acid trip, with angels singing while it’s thundering outside,” Travis murmured, slowly processing what he’d just experienced.

“I was awful, and Storm was amazing. I totally ruined it,” Billie laughed, her disbelief clear as she shook her head.

“You were incredible, Peaches,” Storm replied with a soft smile, genuinely unconvinced by Billie’s self-criticism.

“No, I wasn’t,” Billie insisted.

“It was so good,” Finneas said, his voice sincere. “I have to post this on SoundCloud.”

“Just for it to get, like, one listen,” Billie jokes, rolling her eyes.

“I think it’s going to be a hit for Ferb,” Storm encouraged, giving a supportive smile to the older boy who was like a big brother to her.

“Thank you, Kitten,” Finneas grinned, feeling lifted by her words. “I’m posting it right now.” He moved to upload the recording from his laptop onto the platform.

To everyone who listened, Billie was the voice, and I was the experience. Together, we created a whole spatial audio universe.

Do the dance, do the dance

The way you move is a mystery

Do the dance

You're always there for music and me

Do the dance

The way you move is a mystery

Do the dance

You're always there for music and me

Storm bounced around her family’s home, singing the lyrics to "D.A.N.C.E." by Justice while mimicking the dance moves from her Just Dance game on the Wii. It was Sunday, which meant family night—an evening reserved for movies, laughter, and simply enjoying each other’s company.

In their lively, culturally rich household, three family members filled the space: Roman Siren, a 35-year-old Samoan native from Los Angeles; Veronica Dash, a 34-year-old African American woman from New York City; and their eleven-year-old daughter, Storm, whose unique white hair complemented the vibrant personality that inspired her name after her favorite superhero. 

Roman and Veronica weren’t a couple in the traditional sense. They were best friends who had met in college, bonding over their shared vision for life and the belief that relationships, as typically defined, weren’t for them. However, they both wanted to experience family life and saw a deep-rooted friendship as the foundation for it. So, they decided to have a child together through insemination, a decision that brought Storm into their lives and made them a family. 

Together, they raised her as co-parents and friends, forming a close-knit family under one roof—a beautiful balance of friendship, love, and the progression of family on their own terms.

Under the spotlight

Neither black nor white

It doesn't matter-

Storm’s singing was suddenly interrupted by the ringing of her rose gold iPhone 6. She looked down at the screen and saw a picture of her and Billie flash across it, signaling her best friend was calling.

���Hi, Bi—”

“We’re on the radio! Turn on the radio!” Billie’s words tumbled out in a rush, so fast they blended into one muffled sentence.

“Huh?”

“Turn on the radio! We’re on the radio!” she repeated, voice brimming with excitement.

Roman, noticing the commotion, paused the music playing on the TV. Following Billie’s instructions, he opened the iHeart Radio app on his phone and quickly navigated to their local station, KCRW. With a tap, the familiar sounds of the station filled the room, and Storm listened with wide eyes, anticipation buzzing in the air.

I've never fallen from quite this high

Falling' into your ocean eyes

Right away, the room filled with the blend of Billie and Storm’s voices, unmistakably playing over the radio. It was official—they were on the radio.

“I-I’m on the radio,” Storm stammered, unable to believe her work was really airing on the actual radio, open for anyone in the region to hear. “I’m on the radio! Mommy, come quick, I’m on the radio!” She jumped up and down, and her father began recording the moment to share with family back in his homeland. “Mommy, come quick! My song is on the radio!”

“I’m coming!” Veronica’s voice echoed from upstairs as she hurried down, feeling a mix of pride and a strange tension brewing in her chest. “I can’t believe my baby is on the ra—”

“Ahh!” Storm’s excitement turned to horror as she watched her mother trip on the stairs, tumbling harshly and hitting her head as she fell. “Mommy!”

“Peaches?” Billie’s voice, once joyful, now sounded afraid from the other end of the phone. “Peaches, what’s going on?”

I was on the radio and thought my life was going to change…It did, but not in the way I’d imagined.

“It was a stroke,” Storm heard the doctor say, though his words seemed distant, with only fragmented phrases fully reaching her. “Expressive aphasia.”

“W-what’s that?” Storm asked, her confusion mounting as she looked from the doctor to her dad.

“It’s a condition affecting a third of stroke survivors. She can understand speech but may have difficulty speaking fluently and with movement,” he explained gently.

“What’s the recovery rate?” Roman’s voice was strained, seeking hope.

“I’m sorry,” the doctor replied, and Storm felt the rising hum in her chest build louder, almost drowning out his words. She didn’t want to hear it. In every dream or other life, her mother stood strong, head held high, dressed in her neatly pressed pantsuit with her signature So-Kate heels. She was her steadfast mom, who brushed Storm’s white curls and assured her she could achieve anything she dreamed of. “There’s a ten percent chance that Ms. Dash will return to her previous state.”

“It’s going to be okay, Peaches,” Billie said softly, squeezing her best friend’s hand as Storm sat next to her in the sterile hospital hallway.

“No, it’s not,” Storm whispered, as tears slipped down her cheeks. She turned to look through the doorway at her mother lying unconscious, bed-ridden, surrounded by tubes and wires. “She won’t be the same. My mommy won’t be my mommy anymore.”

“Yes, she will, Kitten,” Finneas crouched down in front of her, gently wiping away her tears. “Everything is going to be okay.”

“Finneas says he’s going to make us superstars,” Billie murmured, rubbing Storm’s hand soothingly. “You’re going to be a world-renowned composer, Peaches.”

“I just want my mommy to be okay,” Storm’s voice was barely above a whisper.

“And she will,” Billie said firmly, her own voice filled with determination.

“How do you know?” Storm asked, looking into her friend’s eyes, seeking something to believe in.

“Because I believe it,” Billie replied with conviction. “And it’s okay if you don’t—because I’ll believe it for you.”

taglist @billiesrighthand @bilswildflower @bilsluckyheart @billiesgoodgirll @billsvip @billieshrry @dandelions4us @factsbybriggs @rhearipley-69 @cierraonline @amberg1998 @crystalblue88 @mercurylvd @saffsblog @ihavenoideayimhere @umadirectioner @harajukub4rb1e @sun81rise @jamiemundy7773 @cyberdreamlanddeer @steampunkprincess147 @zendayasredbottoms @efemerous @lady0ftheflowers

[ticklish-n-stuff]

Ehe~ Thomato? 👀

Ayato said he was going to go to bed but instead took his papers to his room and is sneakily working on them. Thoma can’t have that smh smh 🤨

Stubborn commissioner

MWAHAHA LEE AYATO

I'm not very confident in my thomato writing skills, but I hope you still enjoy it!💖💖💖

___________________________________________

Ayato x Thoma (interpret as you wish)

Lee: Ayato

Ler: Thoma

Warnings: Tickles!

___________________________________________

As someone who harbored a lot of responsibilities, Ayato always did them with elegance and grace. At least that’s how he presented himself, but his most trusted servant knew the truth about how overworked and rushed Ayato truly was. As was the case tonight as well.

“And you promise you’ll go straight to bed? No more working, right?”

“Of course, Thoma” Ayato waved him off with an innocent look. Thoma was a bit hesitant to leave him be, but decided to trust him this time. Oh how wrong he was. The moment the blonde was out of sight, Ayato took his leftover stack of paperwork to his bed. I mean, he did go to bed. Although he decided to tune out the second part.

As Thoma finished his nightly tasks at the estate, he couldn’t shake off a strange feeling. He felt an insatiable urge to check up on the commissioner, considering how stubborn he could be at times. So he did just that. He quickly headed over to the bedroom, normally he’d be polite and knock, but in the case his lord was actually sleeping, he didn’t want to disturb. “It’ll be just a quick peek…” Thoma told himself as he slowly turned the doorknob.

Ayato felt like a deer in headlights at Thoma’s unexpected arrival, being caught red-handed. “...well, you never said I had to sleep”.

“I also said not to work” Thoma placed his hands on his hips, staring down at his lord like a disappointed father. Except Ayato just shrugged and kept on doing his paperwork as if Thoma wasn’t there to give him a piece of his mind.

The blonde had to remind himself to breathe in and out, there’s always a more civilized way to resolve conflict. Although that sort of logic can’t be applied when a certain someone is too stubborn to listen. Y’know what does apply? A silly approach.

“My lord, if you won’t listen, I’ll have no other choice but to resort to… drastic methods” as the blonde spoke, he cracked his knuckles. Ayato’s pen suddenly stopped writing, his whole body tensing up. Did he dare continue writing despite hearing such a threat?... Of course he did! Just as he stopped, he quickly resumed writing.

“Alright, but don’t say I didn’t warn you”

Ayato was too zoned out to even notice Thoma’s eerily approach before it was too late. He suddenly felt a light swipe go down his spine. “Ah!” He gasped out loud, back arching forward. Although his movement was quickly restrained as two arms wrapped around his waist.

“Where do you think you’re going?~” Thoma whispered teasingly against his ear, two fingers digging into either side of Ayato’s stomach.

“WaHAit! Thomahaha!” It didn’t take long for him to burst out into bright giggles, squirming in the blonde’s arms.

“I’m done waiting. Either you put those papers aside and sleep, or I keep going” Thoma stated simply before burying his face against the crook of Ayato’s neck, making the latter squeal.

“Buhut I cahan’t…!” The giggly male whined out, gripping his papers for dear life.

“It’s cute you think you have a choice in the matter~” Thoma chuckled against his skin, worming his fingers under Ayato’s shirt.

“HAH—?!” Ayato almost doubled over when he felt cold fingers against bare skin, poking and prodding wherever they went. Papers flying everywhere as he went to grip at Thoma’s wrists. Not like he put much force into it, wether it was lack or energy or something else, who knows.

“My lord, do you still refuse to sleep?” As the blonde spoke, he softly wiggled his index finger against the commissioner's navel.

“EEP?! I— PFF! AHAHAHA! NOHOHOHO! OKAY! OKAHAY! I’LL SLEHEEP!” Ayato leaned his head back, his limp body resting against his servant as he laughed with all his might. It was rare of him to let out such a boisterous laugh. Any energy he had left was definitely drained.

“And you’re very sure you’ll actually sleep now?” Thoma moved his hands to Ayato’s waistline, giving his hips a light squeeze.

“YAH?! Yes! Yehes! I’m suhure! Just– plehease!” the Kamisato clan leader was at his wits end, his laughter turning wheezy and airi. As adorable as the sight was, he really did need the rest.

“Haha! Okay, I’m done now. I promise” Thoma gave a sweet smile as his fingers came to a halt, his arms losening their grip to let go.

“Wait!—”

“Hmm? Yes, my lord?”

“Can we cuddle?” Ayato gave him a sleepy smile, one that Thoma couldn’t refuse. Not like he ever did.

“Of course, I’d love to” he held Ayato tightly once more, the latter resting his head against the blonde’s chest. It didn’t take long for the room to be full of soft snores. Thoma smiled down at him, giving a gentle kiss to his forehead, before joining his master in his slumber.

___________________________________________

[forever-rogue]

with how much grogu wants a pet, can I request a cute story where reader is an animal/pet shelter owner that din meets on one of his longer pitstops.

they meet when grogu unintentionally helps catch one of the pets that got away from the shelter. din helps her out for as long as he’s there and persuaded by you (and a team up with his son) allows grogu to keep a pet which allows him to grow closer to you as he frequently calls you to ask question on how to take care of grogu’s new pet

thank you 💕 (and I also join in with the clownery 😂😭)

AN | It’s been a while, but I’m glad to be back with the green bean and tin can 🥰

Warnings | None

Pairing | Din x Fem!Reader

Word Count | 2.8k

Masterlist | Din, Main

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Lillia, don’t look at me like that,” you scratched the loth cat’s ear before giving her a playfully serious look, “you’ve had enough snacks to last a week.”

She made a sound of discontent and curled up in her little window seat, flicking her tail. You couldn’t help but laugh at her, she was always so sassy. You went around your shop, greeting all of your animals along the way and giving them each a special treat. You didn’t keep many pets in the shop, only a few that you’d found and rescued, waiting for the perfect person to come and adopt them.

“You’re looking extra colorful today Isa,” the small, bright blue and green bird-like creature chirped happily before jumping down from her perch and landing on your shoulder. You stroked her beak before holding up some seed to her, “a special little treat for you today.”

From across the shop you heard a small howl from Jado as he waited for you to greet him. You picked up a treat just for him. When the floppy eared and wrinkly hound saw you walk up, he wagged his tail a few times, a hard thump thump thumps on the tile floor. Crouching down you gave him a few pats before offering him the bone, “there you go, my best boy.”

Once you made your rounds to the rest of the animals, you went back to the front and propped the door open and flipped the sign in the window. It was a cool spring morning, and the streets were ready bustling with people. You liked that Anbediha; it was always so full of life with plenty of people coming and going. 

You expected that particular day to be just like any other day. You had no clue that it would somehow become one of the best days of your life. 

It all happened that afternoon when Sheiba, the small but sneaky little vulptex, had managed to outsmart (you’d never admit that though) you and sneak out of the shop. She was terribly sweet but also shy and you always worried about someone using that to take advantage of her.

“Oh no,” was the only thing that managed to get out as you looked at her empty and the open shop door. Normally she wasn’t a runner but she did enjoy the cool spring days and playing outside. Granted, you had promised to take her out later…later just hadn’t meant her going by herself. You quickly sprang into action though, not wanting anything to happen to one of your friends, “you guys stay here and keep an eye on the place and I’ll find Sheiba, okay?”

The rest of your small brood looked at you, blinking with wide eyes as you sighed softly. You hoped they understood what you were saying; they often seemed like they didn’t really know what you were saying but they definitely did. They often gave themselves away. 

You grabbed the keys and closed the shop, flipping the sign in the door to say back soon! before stepping into the street to begin your quest to find her. It was already busy out and your heart constricted at the idea that she could be scared, “alright, if I was a vulptex where would I go?”

She liked to play and run around on your nimble legs, so you figured the park was a logical place to look. You started to briskly walk over there, before deciding to just run instead. You weren’t even sure how long she’d been gone…all the possibilities…but no. You weren’t going to panic just yet. 

Much to your chagrin, she wasn’t at the park or in the surrounding area. You walked through the streets, calling out her name and hoping desperately that she’d just turn up. After over an hour of looking and you were still empty handed and ready to cry. You walked around to the food district, hoping that maybe she just wanted a snack. 

At first you didn’t see her, but when you felt like your heart couldn’t sink any lower, you heard it. She had a soft, sweet little bark and you’d know that sound anymore. 

“Sheiba?!” you started rushing towards the source of the sound, ready to fight if you needed to, “leave her alone!”

But…the situation you stumbled upon was entirely different than anything you had expected. You blinked a few times, almost as if trying to decide whether this was a dream or reality, “a Mandalorian?”

The man - or so you assumed - turned to look at you and you held each other’s gaze for a few moments before you heard a small cooing sound. You shifted your eyes away from the shiny Mandalorian to the Sheiba and found a small creature standing next to her. Relief flooded through your veins at the realization that she was okay, and then curiosity took over. 

You’d never seen anything like the small green creature before, with its sweet face, big ears, and little brown robe. It reached out up and gently patted Sheiba’s side, gurgling away happily; whatever he or she was, they were definitely a child of sorts. The vulptex turned to the creature and licked its face before wagging happily. 

“Is she yours?” the man’s voice, you’d been correct in your assumptions, cut through your thoughts as you turned back to him. He seemed so broad and intimidating but you could tell that he wasn’t going to hurt you. You nodded mutely before opening and closing your mouth a few times, “she was at the park but followed us. Wasn’t sure she had an owner.”

“I…it’s a long….you’re a Mandalorian?” you hadn’t meant to blurt out the question but you were so curious. You’d never seen one in person before and equated them to mostly myth and legend. You heard him make a small sound of amusement before he nodded.

“I am,” he confirmed as your face warmed up in embarrassment, “the kid, he’s my…Grogu…?”

“He’a Grogu?” you hadn’t heard of that species before. 

“No, his name is Grogu,” he explained as the kid you now knew was called Grogu chirped happily at him. You swore you could feel the man’s expression softening for him, “he’s my…kid.”

“Grogu,” you repeated softly as you waved at him, “it’s nice to meet you. And you too….?”

The man hesitated for a moment, shifting his weight between his feet almost as though he was weighing his options, “Din. Djarin. Din Djarin.”

“It’s nice to meet you Din Djarin,” you smiled softly before offering him your name, “Sheiba - she’s my vulptex. Well, I rescued her and she’s staying with me for now until she finds the perfect home. I kind of…rescue the strays and patch them up.”

“That’s kind of you,” he stated simply as you tried to shrug off the butterflies that had begun to flutter around in your stomach, “not many people do that.”

“Well, I’m just passing along the favor,” you couldn’t help but wonder what he looked like under the mask, not that you would ever ask, “looks like you did the same.”

“Just passing along the favor,” he repeated softly and you couldn’t help the smile that crossed your features. A few more moments passed in which Grogu played with Sheiba, who despite her shy nature seemed taken with him. You didn’t necessarily want to leave but you decided that staying would have been worse. You weren’t supposed to find yourself gravitating so much to someone you’d barely met, “I guess we should let you get back.”

“Y-yeah,” you agreed, feeling rooted into place and decidedly not wanting to go, “I should get back to my shop. Come on, Shei - say bye to Grogu.”

Her ears flattened as she looked over at her new little friend, not wanting to leave him just yet. Funny how you were both feeling the same way, but after giving him a few nudges with her nose, she walked around to you and stood at your side. You reached down and scratched her ears in what you hoped was a reassuring manner.

“Come on kid,” Grogu seemed just as disappointed as Din picked him up, “I know.”

“Umm, I don’t know if you’re just passing through or not but if he wants to see her again or say bye or something feel free to stop in,” were you doing this for her benefit or yours? Both. Both worked, “it’s the shop between 6th and main - you can’t miss it.”

“Thank you,” and oh. You really liked the sound of his voice.

“Thank you for looking out for her,” you held up your hand in a meek little parting wave, “b-bye.”

You turned around to walk away before he could say anything, already feeling the disappointment in saying goodbye set in. You’d never experienced that with anyone or anything before. You hated it.

“I know,” you could sense her disappointment too, “I know.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

A few days passed, this time without incident, before you saw Din and Grogu again. Truthfully you hadn’t been expecting to ever come across them again, but the pair practically burst into the shop. You were restocking some shelves and almost fell off your stepladder at the sudden commotion of Grogu and Sheiba seeing each other again.

But you didn’t fall or have to worry about any sort of injury because a strong pair of hands grabbed your waist. He set you back down, thoroughly planted on two feet again as you shared a look, “hello there.”

“Sorry for the…excitement,” he shrugged and you could sense that he was nervous, “he wanted to see his new friend again.”

And I wanted to see you. But he wasn’t about to say that just yet.

“Just in time,” you beamed at him and made his knees feel weak, “she’s been moping about for the last few days and I know it was because she was missing him.”

“There’s two peas in a pod,” he laughed, warm and rich and lovely, as he looked at the unlikely duo playing together, “never seen him so taken with anything before. Except frogs maybe…but that’s a whole other story.”

“I’d love to hear it sometime,” well then…your mouth was working faster than your brain and you wanted to wither away, “I just mean…if you’re planning on being around for a while or something. I dunno, I didn’t mean to…it’s just…you know what? I’m shutting up.”

“I’ll be here for a while.”

Apparently Din was going to be hanging out on Anbediha for some time. That was news to him as much as it was news to you. He hadn’t made any decisions until he’d seen your face light up when you mentioned wanting to hear the frog stories. And suddenly his mind was made up. 

“Oh,” you wondered if he was smiling back at you under the mask. He most definitely was, “that’s lovely, Din. I think you’ll really like the city and there’s so many things to do, and if you ever need a tour guide, I’d be more than happy to help.”

“Yeah?” you nodded eagerly, “I’d like that too.”

“And it’ll give Sheiba and Grogu a chance to hang out,” you looked over at the two of them and your heart melted. You could get used to the idea of having them in your life regularly, “and then you can tell me all those stories. I’m sure you’ve got plenty!”

“I do,” he agreed with a small chuckle, “plenty of those.”

“I think we’re going to be great friends, Din Djarin,” the small you offered him definitely made him want to be more than friends. 

“Me too,” he reached up over and touched your cheek with a gloved hand, causing pleasant shivers to run down your spine, “me too.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Turns out a while meant almost six months. It was much longer than he had anticipated, but he kept finding reasons to delay his leave, but he knew, and suspected that you knew as well, that you were the main reason. Not that either of you were complaining about that; your friendship had quickly blossomed and bloomed into more, more, more. 

Unfortunately, you were well used to the fact that the best things in life never seemed to last. You just hadn’t expected the reality of it all to come crashing down so far. 

“We have to leave in the morning,” he’d stated softly and you wondered if it was as hard on him as it was on you. It was. He sighed heavily, a trait you’d become accustomed to, “we won’t be for too long. I’m sorry.”

Or so he hopped. 

“Whatever are you sorry for?” you asked softly, “it’s not like we didn’t know this day wasn’t coming. You were supposed to leave a while ago and now it’s that time.”

“We’ll come back,” he fully intended on keeping that promise.

“Why?” you desperately wanted him to say it, “there’s no reason for that. You were just passing through.”

“We’ll be back,” he insisted firmly and that made your heart extremely happy, “I promise.”

“I’ll be here,” you promised in return, “I’m not going anymore.”

It was the small, sad sound that Grogu made that caught your attention as you and Din looked over at him and Sheiba. The two of them had become the best of friends and you knew that it would be hard for them to be apart. 

“I hate the idea that they’ll be apart,” Din mused quietly as you nodded, “I wish in a way that he could stay or she could come. They’re so attached.”

“Well, I know you’re not going to leave your kid behind,” you nudged him gently with your elbow, “and I don’t blame you. I know how close the two of you are after everything you’ve been through. But I have an idea.”

“Oh?” you could sense that he was raising an eyebrow at you, “tell me.”

“What if you took her with you?” you suggested; despite knowing you’d miss her like crazy it somehow felt like the right thing to do, “that way they’ll be happy and you’ll have to come back. Because I’ll want to see her again.”

“Just her?” he joked and you knew both the answer to that.

“Totally,” you blinked back a few tears that had welled up, “just her.”

“We’d make sure she comes back safe and sound,” he’d do anything in his power to keep Grogu and Sheiba safe. 

“Good,” you whispered, “I really want her back safe.”

“She’ll be back.”

“I know,” you couldn’t help yourself as you pulled him into a hug, armor and all, “come back safe, Din.”

He hugged you back and you could hear him sigh lightly, “soon.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It had been close to a year since they’d been gone. Not that you were counting or anything…you were totally counting. Despite them being gone, you’d still managed to get to talk to them regularly, especially when Din had questions about caring for Sheiba. Sometimes you thought he might have just been calling to ask some of his silly little questions as an excuse to talk to you. And that’s totally what he was doing, and he had no shame in that. He missed you way more than he ever thought he would. More than he ever thought was humanly possible.

But he’d promised you that he’d be back and he was a man of his word. And you wanted to believe him, even if you lost a little bit of hope day by day. 

Your hope was restored one random, stormy afternoon.

Business had been slow due to the weather and you’d only had a few customers stop in. You’d pretty much closed up shop for the day, but stopped when you heard the bell over the door twinkle. 

“Oh sorry, I’m closing,” you turned around to apologize but stopped at the sight of your newest customers. Before you could say anything else, you ran over to him and threw your arms around him without hesitation, “Din!”

You relaxed when you felt him hugging you back, unbothered by the layer of armor between the two of you. When you pulled back you found the small creatures at his feet, “Sheiba! Grogu!”

You crouched down and hugged the two of them. It felt so good to see them all, so right. It didn’t hit until now just how much you’d missed them. Terribly so. 

“I promised we’d be back,” it sounded like he was getting choked up as well, “and here we are. If you want us to be here, that is.”

“I do,” you insisted, “I really do.”

[t0ast-ghost]

S3 EP8 (For The World Is Hollow And I Have Touched The Sky) welp that’s the longest title in tos and this is a long post because I was not normal about this episode

Let’s get it started:

- Immediate red alert with Spock in charge

- You think they ever held hands?

- What’s got Chapel so upset? She’s most likely right about whatever it is

- The way he kind of yells and then lowers his voice and just says, “Please, Christine. I promise I’ll give the captain a full report.” He’s not actually mad at her and he knows she’s just looking out for him but he’s scared

- Bones can’t say that he’s the one who’s dying. He can’t admit it out loud. He says that the cmo has it (not even gonna try and spell the diseases name)

- “Without me, Jim? You’d never find your way back.” My heart- oh my heart. He doesn’t want to be cut away from the crew, let alone Jim and Spock.

- Spock is standing in the transporter room like, ‘What is going on?’

- This asteroid looks like the planet where Tasha dies to the goop in TNG

- I was looking at McCoy about to beat someone up and then it was violently revealed to be a stunt double… obviously

- McCoy was fairing pretty well in that fight until he looked at that lady

- Kirk not only fighting to get to an injured McCoy but begging (he’s using his words cause he cares about him sooo much)

- Normal! Normal thoughts and feelings 🙂

- Okay I know not very relevant to anything but I’m appreciating the stairs shot

- “You will kneel.” All three of them just go, ‘okay’

- Absolutely stunning wardrobe, makeup, and hair for the priestess though

- “THEN LEARN WHAT IT MEANS TO BE OUR ENEMY BEFORE YOU LEARN WHAT IT MEANS TO BE OUR FRIEND.” Get fucking zapped, idiots

- mhm mhm

- Good thing Kirk’s not a doctor (especially a therapist) cause this man is NOT confidential

- Kirk looks so sad. Holy shit .

- McCoy’s like sleeping beauty, cause he’s beautiful… and sleeping I guess

- MHM YEAH. So UHM SPOCK JUST- he just grabbed McCoy’s shoulder to help him up. Why does this have me blushing???

- “Well we’d better get to the control room.” Is this just the normal procedure? Find the control room -> blow shit up

- McCoy immediately tastes the random substance

- he’s dead. (Edit: NOT McCoy! The random guy)

- He CHOSE to sit in the sluttiest way possible. No wonder everyone wants him DAMN

- ‘Bones listen, you’ve got to seduce her. For the mission.’

- I- she loves his stunning blue eyes

- “Is there a woman for you?” He takes way too long to answer this. How do you explain that she just met your two boyfriends

- I love her. I don’t care. She’s so amazing. Like “Until I saw you there was nothing in my heart. It sustained my life, but nothing more. Now it sings. I could be happy to have that feeling for a day, a week, a month…a year.”

- Hiding behind a pillar works…

- Spock and Kirk listening to Natira asking the god if she can have McCoy as her mate and both of them look so ready to attack

- GET ZAPPED IDIOTS

- “for me” 🥺🥺🥺

- THE FUCKING HAND KISS

- “You’re returning with us.” “Dr. McCoy I order you to return with us.” Kirk knows this won’t work but he’s desperately clinging onto any last thing that could keep them together

- “Your decision is most illogical, Doctor.” “Is it, Mr Spock? Is it really?” IM SORRY THIS MOMENT?!? are we? are we not going to talk about this? There’s no real fight between them here. It’s Spock telling McCoy this is ‘illogical’ because he doesn’t want him to leave. And McCoy’s reply is calling Spock out, basically acknowledging that he knows what Spock is saying but also challenging him to find another reason for him to actually stay :(((((((((

- Kirk’s going to cry. That long look from McCoy looks like he’s going to cry. He’s going to cry. I’m going to cry.

- After the breakup :( Kirk is in silent hurt and Spock is pouting (he’s gonna listen to Logical by Olivia Rodrigo after this)

- WOW. McCoy wasn’t sure if they’d actually leave him. I think, if I may speculate, that McCoy was expecting rejection (as a doctor, crew member, friend even) because of his illness. Then Natira wants him, and as she states, she’ll have him for however long she can. Now, McCoy thinking that he’ll inevitably get pushed aside by the people he’s closest to is testing them. It’s a win- win situation for him, right? Either Spock and Kirk force him to go back with them, proving they won’t leave him, or he stays with Natira for the rest of his days. Ideal situation… but I don’t think he actually thought they’d leave him.

- congrats on the marriage I guess

- I like how McCoy is still in his starfleet uniform… no I do not, let him change clothes

- “Starfleet command will take care of the situation.” They’re gonna blow it up.

- “An urgent call from dr. McCoy, sir.” This is like after a break up texting, ‘you up?’

- McCoy stops answering the phone so Kirk and Spock immediately beam down to the planet they’re banned from to save him <3

- That was a fast divorce. This is the second time that they’ve helped each other divorce someone.

- THEYRE BEING PUT IN AN OVEN

- If McCoy and Natira went to an event together everyone there would fall in love with both of them immediately

- The chin tilt. He looks down and she tilts his chin back up. I love them both

- “Which indicates that the flow of oxygen to each cell of your body is back up to its abundantly energetic level.” Spock says this and is basically smiling in relief (you have to see it to believe it)

- Kirk is still in support of his boyfriend’s wife

Honestly 10/10 episode. Thank you so much for this one.

Masterpost

Episode written by Rik Vollaerts

[ddesertmoon]

Batman Fic Recs Feat. Identity Reveal

ALL of the fics are complete or oneshots. Mostly gen, but there will be a few with ships. I’ll mention in description if there are any ships :)

-

He Knows by Ortholeine

“Timothy Drake is a civilian, a normal boy. Kind of. He's normal in that he keeps secrets and has some hobbies. Those secrets and hobbies, though, are a little unique...and completely, 100% revolve around the crime-fighting family of Gotham.

A good friend of the Waynes, Tim finds himself dodging his heroes' attempts to reveal their identities to him in a misguided attempt to keep the status quo. No one seems to want to let it rest, unfortunately for Timothy Drake.”

Funny, silly, goofy…. Exactly what I want to see in identity reveal fics.

-

The Waynes, Damsels in Distress by hitthedeck

“Roses are red, violets are blue, Bruce Wayne and his kids get kidnapped every other week. Some things are just universal, undeniable facts of life.

Or, in which Bruce Wayne is still Batman and his kids are still Robins, but they keep letting themselves get kidnapped because they think it's funny.”

this one is on the list because it’s HILARIOUS. I love it so much.

-

Plagiarism is Not a Joke, Batman by popsunner

“‘How old are you?’

Bruce very much would like to have the last two minutes back please, turns out, he does not want to trust them with his identity.

‘Twenty-three,’ He growls.”

I love rereading this one…. VERY funny

-

Pretty Boys and Identity Problems by DarnGoshit

“In an effort to get over his crush on Robin, Kon pursues a relationship with a civilian Gothamite, Tim Drake.

Or, Tim accidentally Hannah Montana’s his crush... and it works?”

Tim Drake/Kon-El

Ah, secret identity shenanigans…

-

Captain Marvel’s Adopted? by Len_suilon_mellon

“When Captain Marvel sends out a distress call, the only League member available is Batman. Bruce comes to his aid, but he finds out that Billy is a 10-year-old homeless orphan with black hair and blue eyes. Obviously, he makes the only logical decision and adopts Billy. Because it's Bruce—who's allergic to revealing life-changing information—the League is left in the dark.”

5+1 fic where the JL discovers Billy’s ID, really cute

-

Every Fiber of My Being by navpike

“As much as Dick and his siblings have argued, Bruce has never budged on his "Keeping Secrets Policy". There's not a person alive outside of the family that knows the secret identity of any of the Bats. Not even Dick's boyfriend.
Dick understands the need for some secrets, knows that keeping their identities safe keeps them and their loved ones safe, but when he takes up the cowl, team dynamics aren't the only things that begin to change.”

Dick Grayson/Wally West

In which the whole secret identity thing causes many problems. It’s SO GOOD, I promise

-

miss me? by envysparkler

“Jason’s plan to observe his family’s reactions to his resurrection…does not go as intended.”

kind of an identity reveal fic? It’s more the “Jason’s alive” reveal, but I’m going to count it anyway

-

knockoff bat by impravidus

“5 times people noticed batman was acting differently + the 1 time someone found out why (+ the time someone finds the real batman)”

Dick Grayson/Wally West and Bruce Wayne/Clark Kent.

There’s a bit of hurt/comfort, but it’s really really good

-

Rumor Has It by rotasha

“A rumor gets out about Bruce Wayne and he ends up coming out to the Justice League. This is news to Clark, who has been pining over Bruce for years.”

Bruce Wayne/Clark Kent

okay. So. I have MANY thoughts about including this here, and I could write a lot about how a super hero’s secret identity inherently has many queer themes, but I won’t get into that. I think it counts as a kind of identity reveal, so here we are.

-

letter of complaint by envysparkler

“Batman finds himself captured by the new crime lord in Gotham, who has a bone to pick with him.”

one of MANY of my favorite fics where Jason comes back and reveals himself as the Red Hood

-

hand in unlovable hand by batmans_cheerleader and leviathans_watching

“A sound caught his attention, and instantly Jason was poised to throw himself at whoever came through the door. Tense, he waited, but when the door creaked open to reveal not one person, but a whole team, he hesitated.

They were carrying someone none too gently along with them, and Jason could only watch, frozen, as they completely ignored him, dumping the person into the cell, not even wincing at the sick sound their head made when it hit the ground.

Jason barely had time to take in that all-too-familiar cowl before the door slammed shut, and he was alone. With Bruce fucking Wayne.

Nausea swirled in his throat and he forced it down. Puking in his helmet was not fun. And yeah, he knew that from experience. What kind of sick abuse was this? Or was it just an awful, awful coincidence?”

yeah. Just. Jason being forced to eventually reveal himself to Bruce when they’re captured together… I ate that shit up

-

From the Shadows by Wolfsbanesparks

“All Billy Batson wanted was to survive a particularly rough week living on the streets of Fawcett City. The last thing he was looking for was a new family.

All Bruce Wayne wanted was to ask learn a bit more about his upbeat teammate under the guise of official Wayne Enterprises business. But he could never turn his back on a child in need. Especially one as surrounded by mystery as Billy.”

Featuring identity reveals from both Bruce and Billy. There’s a lot more to the fic than the reveals, but there’s a LOT of suspense leading up to them.

[lizzie-is-here]

lonely is a man without love

part v- the boat

“we are all like the bright moon, we still have our darker side” - kahlil gibran

summary: the weirdest boat you’ve ever been on.

wordcount: 3.8k

warnings: language, death, violence, abuse, red room, more episode five to come

a/n: hiii, i’m slowly getting back into my groove lmao. got the results back on my finals and scraped by in math, saw taylor in the pouring rain, ya know, normal things. thank y’all sm for being patient w these uploads. as always, hope you enjoy, love you all 🫶🫶🫶

taglist: @thefictionalgemini @ravenz-hope @undiscl0sed-d3sir3s @iateall-yourcookies @disregardedplant @sunflowers-4 @yellowumbrelllaaaa @bagsy-not-it @local-mr-frog @thescarletredwitch @jupitersmoon167 @creamecafe @stevenknightmarc @theluciansystem @kingtwhiddleston @spider-biter @mxltifxnd0m @sgt-morgan @no-dont-be-suspicious @onzayhe @namorslit @i-cant-write-for-shit @vainillasmil157 @doublevirgogirl @boofy1998

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Now, you’ve grave robbed before. The Red Room had some dirty work, literally and figuratively.

However, you’ve never grave robbed an Egyptian pharaoh’s tomb. Especially not with a man who’s kind of two men who are the avatar of an Egyptian god.

You’ve done worse.

Like shoving your hand down a mummy’s throat because Steven didn’t want to.

“Be gentle!” Steven yelps as you dig around the dead man.

You scoff. “What is he going to do, bite my arm? The integrity of the enamel is pretty shot now, I think I’ll be fine.”

Finally, your hand touches stone. Yanking it free, you victoriously present the ushabti to Steven.

He cheers as you both jump in excitement, passing the ushabti between you both to examine it. Your heart is pounding, both out of excitement and how close you are to Steven.

It turns out to be even closer than you thought when you look up, and almost bump heads with him.

For a moment, you just take in his gaze. How gently his eyes meet yours, deep and dark and entrancing all the same.

“We may have to fight our way out of here,” you cough, refocusing.

Steven shakes his head. “No, no. We can just sneak out a back entrance and-“

“Steven.” You rest a hand on his. “They have a way to track us if we have the ushabti. There are guards crawling all over this place. It’s going to get messy.”

In his head, Marc agrees.

‘It’s gonna be a fight Steven, she’s right.’

“No, no, not everything is a fight.” He’s not sure if he’s talking to Marc or you. “There’s more solutions than- than killing people.” You can’t disguise the way that his words sting.

A loud rumbling of footsteps echoes down the hallway.

You raise an eyebrow. “Are you sure about that?”

‘Give me the body, Steven!’

In an instant, the mild-mannered Brit is gone, and Marc is readjusting to having control again.

“This is bad,” he whispers, as the footsteps grow louder.

You chuckle. “Yeah, no shit.”

Watching you ready your weapons and aim at the entrance, noticing the way your breath trembles, Marc makes a split-second decision.

“You should run.”

“What?” You balk, never taking your eyes off the tunnel before you. “I’m not leaving you.”

“This is my mess, you don’t need to get hurt for me.”

“Too bad.”

The room is flooded with Harrow’s devotees as you finish your sentence. Dozens of guns, all trained on the two of you. You don’t waver, staring down the barrel of your own gun with a finger resting on the trigger.

“I remember the first morning I woke up knowing Khonshu was gone,” Harrow says, stepping up towards Marc. He doesn’t even act phased by the weapon pointed at his head.

“The quiet was liberating.”

It sounds hauntingly like the chemical-induced control in the Red Room. Voices in your head that aren’t your own.

“You’re a free man.”

Logically, you know that Harrow is speaking to Marc. And yet…

“And, of course, with that freedom, comes choice. And right now, you have a very important decision to make.”

Marc sighs. “Okay.”

He’s not one to give up. That much has been made clear in the time you’ve known him. You don’t have to look at him to know he’s planning something.

The moment he strikes, so do you, shooting down as many men as you can. It’s a whirlwind, Marc with a stolen weapon from the sarcophagus and you with anything you can get your hands on.

Of course, cornering a wanted mercenary and a Black Widow in a small space is a recipe for violence.

Harrow knows this.

You’ve heard a lot of gunshots in your life, even felt a good dozen or so. The scars littered across your body tell that story without uttering a single word.

So you know when you’ve been hit.

And you know that this one is bad. Really bad.

A shot to your stomach, then two more to your chest. You can feel your clavicle shatter and ribs crack, but you can’t hear yourself scream. Maybe you don’t even make a sound.

The pain is blinding and absent all at once, and the only thing besides the ringing in your ears is Marc’s panicked movements as he catches you before you fall.

“Hey, hey, hold on. You’re okay, I’ve gotcha.” His words are muffled, but you swear you feel him press a kiss to your forehead. Not such a bad way to go.

He’s cussing, holding you close and shielding you from the onslaught of bullets when he takes two shots to the back.

That’s all it takes.

He topples into the pool of water with you still cradled in his arms, and the darkness only gives you relief.

You don’t let yourself think about Sam, Bucky, and Steve. Or Tony and Peter. Not even Nat and Yelena.

About how the Avengers will hunt this man down. About how they’ll find your body in the water.

Will the world mourn a killer?

Well, the only “world” to you right now is the dark water you’re sinking in and the man holding you tight, so you suppose it doesn’t matter all that much.

———————————————————————

You open your eyes to a hell you never thought you’d return to.

A large, open room, cold and dreary. A woman looms in the corner and about twenty or so little girls look up at you expectantly.

When you turn to the wall covered in one large mirror, you’re met with something else.

A ballerina. White platter tutu bejeweled with gems, worn pointe shoes, your hair tightly pulled back.

The woman snaps her fingers. You instantly jump into the motions you thought you had forgotten, executing a routine with a kind of poised grace that would only ever come with the Red Room’s brutal training.

Finishing with a bow, not even breaking a sweat, you are dismissed, and the world seems to shift.

Now, the room you’re in is bathed in red light. When you look down, you’re in a Black Widow uniform.

You’re not too alarmed by this. No, what scares you is what you know lies in front of you. The bodies on the floor.

The sirens in the halls.

The man in the room, examining your technique.

There’s a fog in your head that you know all too well.

“The chemical seems to be working,” a familiar woman says. Her hair is done up in more braids than you can count. “It wasn’t even this successful on my pigs.”

“I don’t give a shit about your pigs,” the man growls. “I just can’t have another Widow escaping.”

You blink, and they’re gone. The room is white and the haze in your mind is receding. You’re still in the uniform, but you don’t mind that as much.

Wandering the bright hallways, you find yourself in a hospital. The lights seem to sway, and your balance is faultier than usual. Must be a side effect of the flashbacks.

Voices are echoing down the hallway, and you can’t help but feel that they sound… familiar.

“But Marc, Marc-“

“The hospital! That’s the imagination.”

Why would their voices be separate? They continue arguing as you turn the corner, just as Marc turns around.

His breath catches in his throat, as if he’s seeing, well, a ghost.

“Oh, c’mon,” he sighs. “That’s just cruel.” Marc walks forward, still not really believing in this whole “afterlife” deal or that you’re here.

Because that would mean you’re dead.

“Where are we?” you ask, hurrying around the corner only to see… uh, a hippo, and maybe more concerning, Steven.

You mutter under your breath in Russian, only stopping when Steven puts a hand on your shoulder.

“Uh, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but-“

“We’re dead,” Marc finishes, groaning audibly. There’s no way around it. “Harrow, he- he shot you, and then…”

He blinks away the image of you, bloodied in his arms.

“Wait, if this really is the afterlife-” Marc says, approaching a door. “Then what’s on the other side-“

He flings the double doors open, revealing that the swaying of the building wasn’t a hallucination.

You’re on a boat. In the middle of a fucking desert. And you’re also apparently dead.

“Oh, what the shit,” you gasp. “Where the hell are we?”

Steven follows behind you. “It’s the underworld.”

You still don’t understand how the two are separate, even as Marc laughs and pats his alter on the shoulder. “I’m not crazy,” he sighs in relief. “I’m dead.”

“Where are we going?” you ask, watching as the boat coasts over dunes.

“We’re sailing to A’aru. To the Field of Reeds, right, Taweret?”

The hippo, apparently Taweret, nods. “Ah, so he’s the smart one, eh? Well, if your heart’s balanced in life, then you will spend eternity in paradise. The Field of Reeds!”

She coughs before reaching out her hands toward Marc and Steven. “But before we get there, I’ve just got to do a little…”

Her hands pass through their bodies like air, and when she pulls them back, in her hands are two, identical, white hearts.

“Oh, goody! It worked! Look at that! Here was little old me worrying I’d blow your chests wide open.” You wince, before stepping forward.

“I guess you have to do that to me?” you ask, hating the answer.

She nods, and just as gently removes your heart, cradling the three.

“You’re more of a standard case, really, no offense to you boys. We’ll weigh yours first.”

“What’s happening?” you whisper to Steven.

“She’s going to weigh your heart on the Scales of Justice against the Feather of Truth. The ancient Egyptians believed that the heart was the sign of who you really were in life.”

The space in your chest feels cold now.

“If the Scales balance by the time you end the journey, then your soul is permitted to pass into the Field of Reeds.”

You feel a chill run down your spine. “And if it doesn’t balance?”

“You get thrown overboard,” Taweret politely informs. “Whoo! The dead will drag you down into the Duat, where you will remain forever, frozen in sand.”

Wonderful.

You watch as she sets your heart on the scales, waiting for it to almost fall over from your heart’s weight.

But it doesn’t.

It sits rather politely, perfectly equal to the feather.

“I think your scale is broken,” you mumble. “I’ve done a lot of, um, less-than-balanced things in my life.”

The hippo shakes her head kindly. “No, the Scales aren’t wrong. However, your heart does feel heavier than most. Perhaps there’s something in the boat to help lighten the load?”

Next, she sets down Marc and Steven’s hearts. They had been talking in hushed tones a few paces away, but Taweret’s voice brings them back.

The scales are rapidly shifting, never stilling on one side or the other.

“What’s it doing, why is it moving like that?” Steven asks.

The goddess shrugs. “I don’t know. I do not have a card for this.” She carefully removes the hearts.

“Oh. It’s the hearts. They aren’t… full.” She chuckles a bit. “And trust me, I’m a goblet-half-full kind of gal, but… It’s like they each feel incomplete.”

Marc crosses his arms. “What does that mean?”

“Without balanced scales, the Duat will eventually claim your soul.”

“So what do we do?” you ask.

“This boat contains all of a life’s memories,” Taweret says. “Now, I don’t know what you two have been hiding, but my advice, get in there and show each other the truth. Balance your scales before we arrive at the Field of Reeds, or your souls will be destroyed.”

You don’t hesitate, hurriedly opening the doors, and jogging down the hallways as Marc and Steven reluctantly follow.

Behind the doors, you see flashes from their lives, intertwined and blurry behind the glass.

Behind you, they argue, going back and forth at an increasing volume until they start peeking in doors.

A scream comes from further into the ship. It’s a little boy. You and Steven take off after it, but only you seem to notice how Marc hangs back.

The sound came from a cafeteria, apparently. And at each table, there are posed bodies. Some bloodied, some strangled.

“Just a creepy caff filled with dead bodies,” Steven jokes as his voice shakes. “That’s all it is. No prizes for guessing whose room this is.”

Marc studies the bodies, before he starts naming locations. You know exactly what he’s doing.

“You killed them,” you say. It’s not a question.

“Surely not all of them?” Steven asks.

Marc is still looking at the countless people. “They were criminals. Murderers. Predators. The worst of the worst. Khonshu wanted them punished. It’s what he meant by protecting the travelers of the night.”

A pang of guilt stabs through you. He was killing the guilty. You killed the innocent. In another life, you might have been one of the bodies in this room.

“Marc! Look, the Scales are slowing down. It’s working,” Steven says.

“Okay, all right. So now what? Do you go next?”

Movement catches your eye. The small boy who called out before. But unlike the others, he’s alive.

“Marc, who’s that?” You point to him. The man pales visibly.

“Wait, wait, don’t go near him!” Marc pleads as Steven rushes after the boy, who runs off as quickly as he appeared.

Chasing after them both, you only catch up after Steven has entered a memory, with Marc banging on the locked door.

You start looking for other entrances when you see it.

All of Marc and Steven’s doors are white. They match the hospital and are denoted with a small crescent moon on the door handle. This one is made of dark, heavy metal. And you’d recognize that red insignia anywhere.

This is your door.

You don’t even bother looking in it. You see your worst memories every night, so why would you want to watch them again?

Turning back to Marc, you ignore the door completely.

“Let’s look for another way in, yes?”

You both race down the halls, peering in each door for Steven. However, the further you go, the more of your doors appear.

Marc can only catch glimpses of what’s inside. Red lights, gunfire, sharp commands in Russian. And lots of screaming.

He’s trying to push the sounds from that cave out of his head, but all he can hear is water. So much water.

When he opens his eyes, you’re staring into one of his doors. With a tentative press on the handle, it swings open.

The scene is a funeral. There’s no mistaking that. Two parents sit together, and a picture of a young boy is surrounded by flowers.

It all pieces together.

“Your brother,” you whisper. “He died.”

Steven nods from the staircase, soaked in rain and the memories of what he just saw.

“I want my RoRo back,” the mother says, voice hoarse. “I want him back.”

Light steps on the stairs reveal a younger Marc, eyes wide and teary. And you know exactly how this is going to go. Not that it makes it easier to watch.

You close your eyes as she blames the child, screaming as the family tries to calm her down. The boy races back up the stairs, and Steven follows with Marc not far behind.

You’re stuck in place, breath heaving as the mother, Wendy, sobs uncontrollably. Then you blink.

And you’re back in hell.

———————————————————————

Steven and Marc chase each other through more scenes of Marc’s childhood, through birthdays, and arguments, and when he eventually left that hell of a home and never looked back.

But when he tackles Steven, they land in a memory that isn’t theirs.

They see a little girl holding a gun. It’s clearly too large for her hands, given the way that her middle finger rests on the trigger rather than her index finger, but she aims it steadily.

She’s aiming at a man tied to a chair, bag over his head. Steven and Marc barely have time to look away before she shoots.

She doesn’t miss. You never miss.

The girl hands off the gun to a trainer, who nods in approval. As people come to clean the room and dispose of the body, she exits, the two alters following.

They both know it’s you. Neither of them want to say it.

The next room they enter, the girl is a bit older, maybe preteen.

An angry man with glasses looms over her while a woman stands in the corner.

“You failed the Red Room. We’ve put all this effort into making you perfect, and you can’t even finish a mission!” His hand flies out, striking her as Marc’s vision blurs. The sight is all too familiar.

“You… will be punished for your little ‘slip up’. Then, you’ll go back and clean up your mess. No witnesses can be left alive.”

The girl speaks in a way that seems detached. Cold, analytical. “But the witnesses aren’t-“

Another blow lands.

“Don’t speak out of line.”

The woman finally pipes up, her voice cold. “I believe she should go through her graduation ceremony. It will provide… motivation for the next mission.”

Apparently, there’s more to the ceremony than Marc or Steven know, because the little girl’s eyes go wide, and she finally shows emotion.

“No! No, please don’t make me! I’ll never fail you again, Dreykov, just don’t make me-“

He waves a hand. “Take her to the medical wing.”

The scream that the child in front of them lets out is guttural, and she pleads as she’s dragged fighting all the way to the door.

For a moment, she breaks from their grasp and falls begging at the man’s feet. It’s all breathless words and choked breaths.

Dreykov doesn’t even bat an eye. Not when the girl starts sobbing, not when the guards grab her again.

“We shouldn’t be watching this,” Steven says. “These aren’t our memories.”

Marc shakes his head, opening the next door. “We have to find (Y/N), and she’s probably in one of these.”

It reveals another hallway, but not one from the ship. A closed door beside them is marked as having a surgery in process. A hysterectomy. And from the sounds inside, you were both awake and without any form of sedative.

“No…” Steven says. Trying to block out the screaming and crying he can hear, muffled by the heavy door. “They didn’t…”

Marc nods. “I did some research on the Red Room a while back. They would… sterilize the agents for max efficiency.”

“Marc, we need to leave!” the British man exclaims. “These are very personal, traumatic memories that we’re sifting through, we don’t have the right to do this. You didn’t even want me seeing yours, and now you’re okay with looking at (Y/N)’s?”

The other man sighs. “How do we know she’s not digging around ours right now?” The two head for the next door, flinging it open. “For all we know, she’s watching what I didn’t want you to see right now-“

They stop in their tracks for two reasons.

Firstly, there’s a past version of you in the middle of the room, panting heavily. On the ground are 19 dead bodies. All young girls. You’re covered in blood.

Secondly, you’re here. Not just past you, but actual you. You’re perfectly still, watching the scene with an unreadable look on your face.

“(Y/N)?, what is this?”

You whip around at the sound of Steven’s voice. Only then, in the dim red lighting, do they see the tear tracks running down your face. You wipe them away.

“I got lost,” you whisper, voice soft. Your eyes keep flitting back to the bodies littering the floor.

You swallow down the lump in your throat. “I was with you guys, then I blinked, and-“ A silent sob tears its way out of your chest. “-and I was here again.”

Marc and Steven can’t help the way their chests ache at your voice. Not confident or even sarcastic. Just scared.

The former surveys the memory frozen in time. The same man from the earlier memory, Dreykov, stands with another woman.

“What happened here?” he asks, attempting to get your eyes off of the floor.

You wipe your eyes again. “That man, Dreykov. He’s the head of the Red Room. And Melina-“ You point to the woman next to him. “That’s Natasha and Yelena’s mom.”

“After Natasha escaped, they started working on a chemical that would allow Dreykov to control every aspect of his Widows. My group was the first successful run.”

Steven keeps his eyes averted from the bodies. “So why are they all dead?”

“Girls are sorted into groups of twenty when they’re trained to be Widows. Only one survives.”

You stare down at the bodies of your friends, almost your sisters, battered and bloody at your hands.

“I killed them all. I didn’t even hesitate. It was me or them, and I-“ Before you can start spiraling again, you are suddenly wrapped up in two sets of arms.

Letting yourself relax into the group hug, you exhale a heavy breath. Being completely enveloped also has the added bonus of hiding the scenery around you.

“It wasn’t-“

You cut Steven off. “Don’t tell me that it wasn’t me. It doesn’t change the fact that I did it.”

His voice is muffled in your hair. “That’s not what I was gonna say.” It was definitely what he was gonna say, but he quickly changes his plan. “But this, you’ve already lived through all of this. You’ve grown, and now you’re an Avenger. Hell, you charged right in to help us and now you’re dead too.”

“Speaking of which-“ Marc pipes up. “You don’t seem very concerned about being dead.

As they guide you out of the room and back into the ship's hallway, you sigh in relief. Your shoulders visibly relax, and the darkness clouding your eyes relents the tiniest bit.

You offer a smile that’s still a little sad, but a smile nonetheless.

“Oh, please. One of my best friends is a multiversal being that can rewrite reality on a whim. I wasn’t that worried about being dead for a little while,” you joke.

The three of you walk down the hallway until a door that isn’t yours appears. It shows the desert at night, with a similar body count to yours sprawled in the sand.

But there’s another figure. Marc. Dragging himself toward a temple. A thick trail of blood coats the sand.

“Oh, great,” Steven quips. “More dead people.”

Marc’s eyes don’t leave where he’s crawling on the ground. The amount of blood loss is astonishing, really.

“Taweret said you have to tell each other the truth, right?” you ask. “This is part of that.”

Marc steels his nerves before sharply nodding. They just saw some of your worst memories; it only feels right to reveal some of his own.

With a shaky hand, he opens the door.

[blackout-galaxy]

ok so i said submas blast so im giving you submas blast.

unfortunately for everyone involved, including the characters, i have thunked up an au. it has ended up being named Warden, Navigator, Madman. will the fic i inevitably write be named this? who knows! probably not but it will end up in there somewhere.

Anyways.

Behold my shitty little timeline where I was trying to figure out what to do with them. C is Akari, A is Ingo, and B is Emmet!

But oh, you say, that means ingo and emmet are no longer twins! Fret not, dear reader! For I have this funny little thing called time dilation!

Now, I am absolutely not going to use the word again, because I’m afraid of using it incorrectly (I did so many times rambling to my friends.) so just keep that concept in your brain, okay?

What’s important is that to the people of hisui, Ingo has been Lady Sneasler’s warden since she herself was young. He’s spent the past decade there by the time the sky opens up a third time. Akari has spent two before she’s deemed prepared enough to go out on her own.

Neither of them have aged much at all in these time spans. By Irida’s best logic, her warden’s aged maybe three years.

Emmet arrives two years after akari and ten after ingo. And is experiencing double time in the woods. What is six months to hisui is a year to him and Unova in the future.

Anyways! All that out of the way, let’s get to the meat and bones!

A major part of the effects from this is the fact that *i* think that humans are able to end up typed like Pokémon. The last time the twins were in for a checkup, they were both registering as majority steel-typed, with minor typing in electric, poison, and dragon, for a variety of reasons. When they get back, a feral thirteen year old in tow, they register as dark-ghost, with moderate dragon typing and minor poison and ice typing. For somewhat obvious reasons I’ll get into. Akari registers as normal and dragon and always has, thank her lucky stars.

Ingo, as he’s experiencing time in a very strange manner, doesn’t realize that spending… more than what he thinks is three quarters of his time in the woods is closer to disappearing for months at a time. This has effects on him, including the fact that spending all your time barely interacting with any human can and will substantially fuck with your typing and the severity of its effects on you.

Emmet, who has been kidnapped by zorua and has begun going insane, is also contemplating just how hard it would be to convince his brother to be feral in the woods with him. (His typing is shifting faster than he can mentally adjust to it)

Unfortunately (or fortunately) for them both, they never run into one another properly until Akari gets let loose on the mountains.

Which means that the supposedly worsening hallucinations that have brought ingo into town more often aren’t just hallucinations, and that the zorua screaming on the mountainside aren’t just zorua.

I have quite a few incidents in store for all three of them, with varying levels of involvement from the other wardens and the people of jubilife, but this is all you get for certain for now!

And a good look at my ideas for them of course.