#but yeah it's getting to the point of not just being uncomfortable but being debilitating

[ace-of-hearts-and-spades]

ok i read your menstrating thingy and i dont want to overstep but something my gyno said to me a while back. "period pain isn't Normal. it's Common. but common doesn't mean its normal and it shouldnt be treated as if it is" (also if you haven't please think about talking to a/multiple gyno's because as someone who's uterus is fucked up thats not normal and you should make sure its not something more serious)

Don't worry about it, you're not overstepping at all :>

And yeah, I know it's not normal. Which is why I'm frustrated that people (who are ignorant but not necessarily malicious) insist that it is normal. I am actively trying to find a gyno and get an appointment. Because I want to make sure it's nothing serious either!! And I want to figure out what the problem is so I know what (if anything) can be done to help it.

I do appreciate your ask and concern though. It does give me a bit of an extra kick in the ass to get moving on this 🫂💖

[sentimental-idiot25]

Shoko was lying down in bed, her laptop slid off of her stomach and was on the right side of her body. She was attempting to do some research and reading for her upcoming tests and papers but she was so tired mentally that once the screen became dim because of the low activity she just let the laptop go black on its own. She felt so debilitated. 

She was looking to the left of her room and noticed how the candle on the dresser was almost out of wax, I need to get a new one soon. It should last me the night, she thought to herself. 

She looked back up to the dark ceiling and let out a breath. She was almost done with medical school but she was facing a dilemma of whether or not to rejoin the sorcerer life she left all those years ago. It was easy to get guilt-tripped to go back— but god, she wants a life of her own. It had been on her mind constantly, even if she has more pressing issues to deal with in the moment. 


It’s easy for people to understand that Gojo is needed in the sorcerer world as much as Gojo needs the sorcerer world. But for Shoko— they need her much more than she needs them…but at the same time she often thinks that she was born for the sole purpose to be in that world forever. She was born into this world with one goal and one purpose. If she was to defer and choose a different path— then what was the point of her existing at all?

She turned her head again and watched as the flame danced around within the glass jar; how it would jolt and flicker. How the wick was slowly and gradually disappearing. 

Her phone buzzed. Her hand slowly reached for her phone which was tucked under her pillow and held it above her face. There was a message on the screen, ‘How the hell is your fridge so empty?’ it read. It was from Gojo. 

A light smile graced Shoko’s face. He was in her apartment, just on the other side of the wall or door. She didn’t hear him come inside or sense a presence. I’m getting rusty, she thought to herself.

She clicked on the message to reply, ‘I’ll be moving out soon so there’s no point’ Immediately three dots appeared on her screen indicating Gojo was typing. 

‘Aren’t you moving out in a month?’ 

‘Yeah’ 

’Jeez woman…’ 

She smiled as she let out a breath of air in amusement. 

‘Where are you?’ 

‘I’m dead’ 

‘Means I’m talking to a ghost?’

 

 ‘yeah’ 

‘That’s depressing’ 

‘Would you be sad if I died?’ She typed without thinking and sent it without much thought.

‘I mean of course’ He sent. ‘Don’t wanna lose you either’ he double texted. 

Either… Shoko felt as if she could never fully separate herself from Geto in Gojo’s eyes. It was a weird and uncomfortable thought she had. But that either brought it back to her attention. Gojo has very limited people in his life that he considers precious, but sometimes Shoko thinks he blurs them all together.

‘So don’t go dying on me. Deal?’ He texted again after Shoko didn’t respond immediately.

‘No promises :)’ 

‘Think you’re funny?’ 

‘Im hilarious’ 

‘Gonna drop being a doctor to be a comedian?’ 

‘Yup! But first gotta come back to life’ 

‘I’ll say a few jokes at your funeral in your honor— a career never fulfilled :’( so sad’ 

‘Will you shed a few tears for me?’ 

‘I’ll be the first one there and the last one to leave’ 

‘Really?’ 

‘Of course :)’ 

‘That makes me feel a little better’ 

‘O_o what does that mean?’ 

‘Nothing just didn’t expect that answer from you’ 

‘I'm a nice guy I’ll have you know’

‘Sure sure’ 

‘Really I am!’ 

‘You broke into my apartment lol’ 

‘And you still haven’t come out yet >:(‘ 

‘Never said I'm a nice person’ 

‘That I know’ 

Shoko smiled slightly. She stared at her phone until it went black automatically. The only light source was the candle again. She looked over the dancing and flickering light. The flame slowly started to become more and more still. The wick eventually was reduced to nothingness and the flame diminished on its own. 

Shoko stared up at the dark ceiling once more. She took in a big breath and reached for her phone, ‘You can come in’ 

And almost instantaneously the door of her bedroom opened. 

“Was wondering when you were gonna let me in,” Gojo said as he closed the door. 

He took off his mask and took off his shirt and set them on the bottom corner of the bed and crawled onto the mattress where Shoko was lying. He wrapped her arms around her in a tight embrace. 

“It smells good in here,” he commented. 

“I have to buy a new candle,”

 

 “Don’t worry— we’ll buy that and groceries tomorrow,” he smiled into the crook of her neck. 

A few minutes pass and Shoko hears light snoring coming from Gojo. She ran her hand through his hair. Regardless of the path she chooses to take, going back or leading a ‘normal life’, the only assurance she has is that she’ll always have Gojo there with her. She felt a light bit of peace for the first time after weeks of internal conflict. 

The streetlight’s radiance spilled through the cracks of the blinds in her room. The hit the top of her dresser, Shoko noticed how there was still wax within the candle jar. Even though the light was no longer there and the wick burnt away— there was still something there.

There will always be something there.

[fallennewmoon]

"So you can manipulate shadows and what not?"

"Essentially, yeah."

"Oh, that's fucking awesome!"

And yeah, maybe it was.

Bending the darkness to his will was fun. He could turn shadows into puppets that did his bidding. Use them to restrain people in place. Let them bring the whispers of the night to him. Take over a whole room and isolate it from reality because there is no sound or light in complete darkness, just space.

He could even use them to move around, hide his full body in one and he could move anywhere he wished. Obviously, he had to be careful about it. Spawning out of nowhere was fun, but freaking people out with it brought a lot of unnecessary attention. Imagine just spawning under a fucking car in the middle of traffic? A hilarious image, everyone would pause, stare in horror and their expressions would be hilarious. However, spotlights are too bright for his comfort and he's never really been interested in making it to the headlines.

Even better, he could grab people or things while hiding in the shadows, carry them with him through places. Perfect for instances where he was in a hurry– of course, he had to know the area first, lest he go too far and end up lost, or worse yet, trapped– or when he didn't want to carry something with him for hours on end. He could just spawn it into his room by walking into the shadows.

And, yeah, being able to see in the dark is fucking great. A great advantage if you want to sneak around, what would he need a light for with such a clear view? If you needed to sneak around in the dark, he was perfect for it, just a few seconds of moving through the shadows and everything would be set.

But gods did it hurt to be in the light.

The fastest way to get him to scowl and make him want to strangle you was by shining a big, bright light on his face. And let's not even mention public spaces with lots of white in them, bright spaces were the absolute bane of his existence. His resting bitch face would get even worse around those.

Don't get him wrong, he's used to it. It's been like this since he was a child, he's made a habit out of carrying shades around and wearing a lot of hats– His collection would put a shades and a hats enthusiast to shame. There are so many that he had to come up with a way to keep them on display efficiently.

Yes, he could make a room darker if he wanted to, wrap the light with his shadows and make it more manageable... But if light gives him headaches and makes him take pills to deal with them, darkness makes him restless.

You can only use it for so long before your sleep schedule takes a hit, and his is already shit to begin with.

You gave a boy– who is obsessed with the dark, the moon and the stars, space– the darkness evol– something that allows him to imitate them to some extent– how would you not expect him to stay up?

Point is, Ilkay needs the light as much as he needs the dark.

A necessary balance. One he had to learn the hard way.

Too much darkness will only make him more sensitive to the light, and said sensitivity will only hinder his ability to use his evol.

How is he supposed to kill a wanderer if he has a debilitating migraine in the middle of a fight?

It could cloud his senses, rid him of his own ability to see and hear if he stayed in it for too long, making him lose track of time.

Spawning back into a city as loud and vivid as Linkon after god knows how many days spent isolated would be a sensory nightmare.

So yeah, his evol is awesome, he can do a lot of cool things. But for his "greatness" there must be a weakness, and he must live with it, no matter how uncomfortable it might be.

He didn't hate it, per se, he liked the way light reflected and shone, the colors and the sights.

He just wished it didn't hurt, that it didn't burn his head when he stood under it for hours on end.

But he guessed that was another lesson in life, he just didn't know what it was about.

[cedarbullet]

people will have "proship dni" in their bios out of some vague sense of needing to virtue signal and then ship toxic ships which is frankly baffling. here are some things to consider :

dni lists do not work

if you're uncomfortable with something or someone you can just fucking leave. the room, their blog, the post, the fanfic, the book...sometimes things will upset you and that's a part of life

"proship" is a word that means nothing anymore, especially when used in this sense. at that point you're just saying "pedophilia in fiction makes me uncomfortable" which is the same as saying nothing because that is the reaction of most people to pedophilia in fiction*

"proship" and "antiship" not only mean nothing but lack any nuance about the way in which people interact with media, and how fiction and real life influence each other. they also trivialize these issues by focusing them on shipping culture rather than fiction as a whole, which i think is silly when

we are currently facing a crisis of book banning and oppression of themes considered "too weird"

we are currently facing a crisis of oppression regarding trans, brown, & black people who become further oppressed when narratives related to book banning become normalized

the sooner you accept that you will eventually find a ship compelling that is #weird and/or #bad and would be concerning irl, the sooner you will come to peace with others doing the same & realize we are all literally just playing barbies on the internet—& overpolicing and frantically analyzing your own fantasies is a really unhealthy and unfun way to play barbies

maybe you don't have to be an internally morally pure person all the time as long as you are not causing real harm to other people and you focus on being nice and caring to others. maybe life is more about living with yourself and the world and, if you can, changing both for the better. there's no objective way to get a good grade in being a person. this is scarier than the idea that by aligning yourself with a certain ideology, you will find a definite answer about life, but i think it is worth accepting because otherwise, you will probably end up exhausted and stressed at all times about normal human behaviors

this is a lot to process especially in the world we live in and i don't blame anyone for however long they take on a personal journey of meaning or what the result of such a journey is, but i do think these things are worth considering. i do also hope this doesn't come off as judgmental, but more like the thoughts of someone who has gone through an extensive upheaval of my thoughts on this matter, which resulted in me going from debilitating intrusive thoughts to being able to live with my own brain on a daily basis

*this also doesn't mean it shouldn't exist btw. sometimes something making you feel uncomfortable is the fucking point, and even if it's not, i think placing bans on fictional content is an extremely slippery slope. i also think it's worth considering that the oppression of pedophiles historically and currently just means "the oppression of queer people, especially trans women" and also does nothing to address the root causes of pedophilia and its harms.**

**if you think pedophilia can be effectively addressed by punishing people for being pedophiles, you fundamentally misunderstand human nature. "all pedophiles should die" is a statement with horrifying implications if you think about it for longer than two seconds. even beyond other affected groups, someone experiencing sexual thoughts about kids actually isn't a reason for punishment. no thoughts can ever be a reason for punishment actually. is it a sign that that person should seek help? yeah absolutely! but why do pedophiles generally not seek help? shame. that type of repression and avoidance towards addressing the problem is not actually going to lead to a resolution of the issue, but in all likelihood will make them more likely to engage in harmful behaviors in a desperate and potentially dangerous (inc. to themselves) way. the best way to address pedophilia is to destigmatize it as an issue to seek empathetic help for, particularly considering that pedophilia occurs most in survivors of sexual abuse. "are you defending pedophilia then?" no, i'm a victim of pedophilia who is defending pedophiles. if the person who victimized me had been able to access help, he would not have hurt me.

[lastoneout]

Re that last post about the similarities between autism and social anxiety, something about this that makes me wonder, as a neurodivergent person who isn’t sure where she falls exactly, does anyone on either side of this ever experience like, being able to relax in social situations where there is a strict social framework everyone is expected to adhere to?

Because I’ve often described my social anxiety as feeling like I have to perform or follow a set of rules, and I can’t relax because I don’t really know what’s expected of me(how to appear/be Normal), and it tends to get worse the more spontaneous and unstructured the interaction is. As an example I have actually butted heads a few times with an autistic friend of mine because I find it incredibly anxiety inducing to the point of it actually making me upset when people I don’t know strike up a conversation with me randomly in public, while he sees that as something polite and it makes him upset to think of it like he’s bothering other people. Not saying he’s wrong at all, but the reason it bothers me because in those situations there is NO structure AT ALL and I have no idea how I’m meant to act or what I’m meant to say, and the thought that I’m Doing It Wrong, or being rude by trying to end the interaction as fast as possible, makes me so anxious it can honestly throw off my mood for hours after.

And again I experience that to varying degrees with basically all social interactions, even some with people I’m incredibly familiar with like long time friends or family, and there’s hardly ever a break. I think the only people I feel like I don’t have to perform in front of are like, my mom and my fiance.

But one time there IS a break is when I’m at work. I don’t really have any social anxiety there, or at least very little, and it’s because I know what my job is and EXACTLY what my relationship to the people around me is and how I’m meant to behave around them, which people I can be more familiar with and which ones I need to be more formal around, and if things ever do get weird or uncomfortable I can just remind myself that I don’t really HAVE to be friends with or like any of the people I work with because we’re all just there to make money.

It also doesn’t bother me to interact with customers, even when it goes wrong or I mess up, because again there is a script I’m supposed to follow and I know what’s expected of me, and if the customer starts to become a problem I know the mangers will step in and I don’t really have to care what the customer thinks or says about me. Like I’m the sort of person who breaks down crying when people yell at me, but with customers I couldn’t care less bcs it doesn’t really matter and they can’t actually hurt me. They’re the ones breaking the rules, after all, not me, so whatever, right?

(I even enjoy public speaking at my job, despite having debilitating stage fright in every other situation lmao)

I even get irritated sometimes when co-workers butt heads and refuse to work together or complain about not liking each other cuz like?? You’re here to work??? Who fucking cares I’m not making you be friends I’m making you make popcorn, unless there’s an actual harassment problem just get over it??? But they think I’m weird or like, inconsiderate for taking that stance.

So yeah I just wonder if anyone with social anxiety or any autistic people ever get relief from being in situations where there is a strict social framework that can be memorized, or if everyone tends to be anxious even then. Cuz idk it seems like one of those things that I always assumed was just my social anxiety, but the more I think about it the more I’m not entirely sure.

[forsworned]

[♥]  modernau!  emergency room  {tengen uzui x reader}

Genre: Slight Angst, Slight Fluff, Slight Sensual Themes

Categories: F/M

Relationships:Tengen Uzui/Reader

Word count: 1,021

a/n: requests are open

➽────────────── ────────────── ──────────── ❥ 

It felt as if your whole world had become so fragile that it suddenly collapsed and shattered into tiny fragments. Your lungs begging you to heave an ounce of oxygen into your system, but you stood there phone in hand, motionless. Tears welled up in your eyes as you couldn't even make sense of what the doctor was saying on the other line.

"Mrs. [Uzui]-[Last Name], are you still there?"

It was as if someone suddenly pressed play and you gasped, getting right back into reality. You wiped away the tears that scoured across your cheeks and neck. "Y-yes. I'll be right there, Doctor Takeshi."

The drive to the hospital was debilitating and gut wrenching. Millions of thoughts had rushed through your head as you pulled up to the parking lot and slammed your car door to rush inside the emergency room. The front desk shocked at your sudden appearence, but remained professional as they informed you of the room Tengen was being held at. As you sped walk down the cold, white flourescent lit walls, you finally stumbled upon the room number he was situated at. When looked through the doorway, your stomach dropped at the sight. Tengen in utter shambles right before your eyes. His body wrapped in bandages and casts and a large life support tube shoved right down his throat. A hand suddenly dragged you out of your stupor.

"Is he going to be okay, Doctor Takeshi?" You words barely above whisper. You couldn't take your eyes away from his crumpled body, but Doctor Takeshi stepped in front of you to purposely block your line of sight.

"Yes," Your bloodshot eyes darted to him. "He's just in a medically induced coma at the moment. His injuries are severe, but not fatal or enough to immobilize him permanently. He's really lucky to be alive."

You gulped. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," Doctor Takeshi began. "All his vital organs were missed by this much." The doctor held out his index finger and thumb to show just how close Tengen was to not to be at Death's Doorway. You let out an ugly cry as you collapsed into the doctor's arms and sobbed erractically.

"Thank you, thank you so much." You voice muffled against his sweater.

"You got nothing to thank me for. Your husband's a tank."

≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

Weeks had passed by and you never left his bedside. You even took emergency leave from your job, so you could continue to do so. The doctor and nurses had told you that Tengen could most likely hear you when you spoke to him, so you began to read to him and tell him about your day. You couldn't tell if it was for him or your sanity, but at that point it felt all the same. Although, you did know one thing for sure, Tengen was going to wake up soon and when he did you were going to be there to greet him.

The rain pelted against the glass and you watched as the drops raced down. Your eyes were heavy with sleep deprivation and you felt yourself starting to drift off until the sound of Tengen coughing startled up.

Your eyes were wide with excitement and full of happy tears. "Doctor! I need a doctor! He's waking up!"

Doctor Takeshi rushed in along with other nurses on standby and he began to remove the tub that was no longer needed to support Tengen's life. When it was finally out, you rushed to his side and held him in your arms as you kissed every inch of his face.

"I'm so glad you're finally awake!" You cheerfully exclaimed. You buried your head in the crook of his neck, but you didn't feel him reciprocating.

"Yeah, that's great and all, but who are you again?" You froze in place as you felt your heart drop to your stomach and slowly lifted yourself from him to gaze down at his deadpanned expression. It quickly switched into a devilish grin.

"Just kidding."

You burst into tears as you clung to him again and sobbed like a baby while he rubbed your back. He placed a kiss on the top of your head.

"Don't ever scare me like that ever again." Your voice was muffled agaist his bandaged chest. He snuggled against you as best as he could without straining himself.

"I would hug you back, but my arms are kinda broken." He chuckled. You broke into a fit of laughter as you wiped away tears.

"I knew you'd wake up, Tengen. I was here every day."

His smile as beautiful as ever. "I know, I heard you. I can't believe you read me my horoscope knowing full well I don't care about my zodiac sign."

You heard the nurses aww in the background, making their presence known because let's face it if they stood there for hours you both wouldn't even notice. The moment was too important for outside factors to affect either you. Still, though, it was a bit uncomfortable knowing they heard your whole interaction.

"We'll give you guys some privacy. Glad to have you back, Mr. Uzui." Doctor Takeshi nodded in your direction before ushering his nurses out who didn't look like they were too much in a hurry.

Once the door shut, you and Tengen were finally alone and in one swift movement you wasted no time in kissing him deeply, feverishly in fact. And he groaned in response, mostly because he couldn't reach down to grab your ass like he always did. Despite this, you continued to kiss him and slipped your tongue between his lips and he fully obliged. That was until he shifted upwardly forgetting that he needed to stay immobile, and groaned this time in pain. You broke contact and looked at him worriedly, but Tengen had a smug look on his face.

"Looks like you're gonna have to be on top for awhile babe."

"Shut up!" You covered your now rosy cheeks in embarrassment, but your expression softened as he chuckled at you. You were just glad to have your husband back.

[lesbiansforboromir]

Let me tell you all about a very personally satisfying HC I have that, whilst perhaps explaining some things within the books, is really just for my own enjoyment. 

So, the idea originates in the concept that everyone in the Dol Amrothian line are very spooky. The close elven lineage and living near an old abandoned elven haven had particularly mysterious effects on the whole family. Sure there are Dunadain in Gondor and they can develop certain spooky traits, but the Lords of Dol Amroth start out spooky and usually stay that way. It goes up and down depending on the individual, but generally they are all uncanny at the very least.

Denethor can see into the hearts of men, yeah ok cool I guess. Imrahil goes down to the Dol Amroth harbour at dusk and whispers to the swans until midnight, he answers questions you were sure you did not say out loud, he can make you weep with genuine grief over a sadness he hasn’t even mentioned. Speaking with Finduilas sometimes makes you feel like time passes in an instant, or incredibly slowly, or not at all... except no... really... how much time has passed? Wasn’t it just morning? How is the sun setting already? Or, oh my gosh, I’m going to be late! Or... not..? it’s barely been a few moments, yet I feel like I just lived a lifetime...

Ivriniel insists this is all nonsense, doggedly, she refuses to acknowledge it, no matter how many political rivals raise her considerable ire and come down with a mysterious and debilitating illness the next day. Grandmother Duilindes is just straight up a witch. ‘It’s all for the honour of Eru’ she says placatingly, as she enters her rooms in the Palace that she forbids anyone else from entering.

Denethor had heard these rumours before meeting Finduilas and, sure, he sometimes feels like he is being hunted, only to turn and find Adrahil’s eyes on him. But Dunadain are just a little strange like that! Surely it’s been blown out of proportion. He believes this up until he comes to Dol Amroth as Finduilas’ suitor. 

Denethor: Shall we take a walk after dinner? Everyone looks up from their plates in alarm Adrahil: Are you joking? Denethor: ??? Imrahil: It's the seventh day! The gardens aren't to be disturbed! Denethor, whispering to Finduilas: What does that mean?? Finduilas, chuckling: oh, Denethor! 

He sees Imrahil whispering to the swans at one point and is about to call out to him before Finduilas quickly gestures him silent.

Denethor, whispered: What is he doing? Finduilas: Shh, if the swans hear us we'll surely be attacked. Denethor: But then shouldn't Imrah- Finduilas: SHH.

One evening Ivriniel sweeps in with a stormy countenance, muttering over Lord Garahel’s stupidity. The next morning Denethor hears Imrahil mention that Lord Garahel has been taken ill with some fainting sickness. The look he gives Ivriniel is enough for her to know his mind. 

Ivriniel: Your imagination will run wild Denethor, I had thought you more reasonable. You think I, what? Cursed him? Don’t be ridiculous. Denethor, turning to Finduilas: Do you think... she knows she's doing it? Finduilas: Oh no, in fact she's determined to remain ignorant to it. Denethor: Can you... do that? Finduilas: I havent tried :)

At some point Finduilas had told Denethor that ‘Imrahil is the odd one of the family’ and by the end of the visit all Denethor can think is ‘by what metric??’

Denethor had to admit to himself privately that he was not at all put off by Finduilas’ nature, but he did have cause to worry what their children would be like. Finduilas came across Denethor, early after Boromir’s birth, rocking him to sleep and murmuring softly; 'I may have my failings as a father, I am sure I shall, but I swear they will be honestly meant, I love you so dearly my son... please do not curse me when you are older and I do not allow you everything you ask. I promise I only ever have your wellness in mind.' And she thought it was very sweet and proper, but she didn’t tell him he was wrong! And for very good reason! 

Boromir was an unnerving child. He learned to speak just a little too quickly, and when he did he would often say uncanny things, too knowing things, indecipherable things that became daunting the longer you thought about them. He had such a powerful grasp of complex feeling that he would often solve arguments between adults, explain emotions back at his parents or offer reasons for another child’s behaviour that were so accurate it became uncomfortable. 

3yo Boromir: (explains the reason Denethor’s secretary was distracted that day unprompted) Finduilas: (laughs) yes that's right! Denethor: It's.... TOO right. Finduilas: Oh well children are intuitive aren't they? Denethor, picking Boromir up: ... I feel under qualified to teach you things. Boromir: (baby-giggles but in a like way too knowing way)

And then sometimes Denethor would be sitting reading on a bench on a balcony in the early evening with Boromir contentedly playing with a fiddle-toy beside him, and suddenly his son’s voice would break the silence with; 'When I wasn't here I was colder, so I think I like it here, I'll stay. The air isn't as delicious but there's more to see.'

And then he’d go back to playing as though nothing was wrong whilst Denethor had an existential crisis. 

Denethor: W.. where were you, before? Boromir: Well I didn't know, because I couldn't know, but now I can know things, just not that. I haven't decided if I like it.

He asks Finduilas about it as soon as he can find her and she just laughs, ‘don't worry he'll forget he knows that in a few years’ she says, as though that helps at all.

But in general this is as far as Boromir ventures into the ‘spooky Dol Amroth’ territory. Sometimes he mentions things he CHOSE NOT to do that suggests he is capable of more, but other than randomly forcing Denethor to consider his position in the universe and reading him for shit, the first five years of being a parent is fine for Denethor.

At one point, when Boromir was about two, someone asked Finduilas if they were planning for another baby soon. Finduilas laughed ruefully, as though everyone would know that was a foolish question. ‘Oh no, much too soon for that’ she said. Denethor knew he had to follow up on what the hell that meant later. But when asked, all Finduilas said was ‘Oh you know! If siblings are born too close then they align their powers. Haven’t you heard my father talk about my uncles?’ She says it with the same tone as reading something out of a parenting manual. Denethor doesn’t want to hear about Finduilas’ uncles, but accepts this is important and stops thinking about it.

And it’s a good thing they did wait because, whilst Boromir was unnerving, Faramir is straight up terrifying.

What Denethor realised was that Boromir had been showing restraint. Faramir however was very comfortable with his powers and saw no reason not to use them. Denethor would find himself lost in baby Faramir’s eyes, feeling unable to move simply because of the weight of his stare. Finduilas and Boromir would have to save him from Faramir’s grasp, an act that would make Faramir look very put out. 

If people irritated Denethor when he was holding his youngest son, then just a glance from this child would make them drop whatever they were holding, Faramir grinning victoriously all the while. If Faramir did not want to take a bath then Finduilas would have to be present in case the baby decided to make Denethor relive his entire childhood. 

Sometimes Denethor would come outside to see his toddler just surrounded by the street cats of Minas Tirith, conducting some kind of incomprehensible tribunal that all the cats appeared to abide by. At one point Boromir was holding Faramir when Faramir grasped his brother’s face and pulled so that their eyes locked. Boromir passively held Faramir’s intense gaze for a while in this charged and tense moment, before calmly looking away as Faramir pouted. Denethor once again begged Finduilas to explain, but all she had to give was a fond sigh and a ‘Aw, Faramir just wants to get to know him, but our Boromir is too canny, Ivriniel and I used to do that.’ Denethor is used to helpless bemusement and concern by now. 

Now the SECOND part to this HC- YES I’M STILL GOING, THIS IS ALL IMPORTANT- the second part is that Dol Amrothians ALSO get a kind of ‘choice’. (This is likely not at all canon friendly tbh but uwu I can have a leetle canon noncompliance if it doesn’t effect the vast expansive canon... as a treat) It is far more unconscious and happens in childhood, but there is a point where a child will ‘decide’ to continue being spooky or to be more mundane. This never overrides ALL the spookiness, hence Ivriniel’s intermittent cursing and Finduilas’ occasional time dilation, but Imrahil still out spooks the lot of them. Amongst the family this is known as ‘settling’.

Boromir settles when he is eight. One day he comes to breakfast and Denethor looks into his son’s face and feels like he is suddenly more in the world, more in the moment. Boromir seems as himself as ever, but he makes friends easier afterwards. Whereas he had always been liked, now he is popular and has close relationships with children, rather than always seeming too distant. This also coincides with one of Gandalf’s rare visits. He had been trying to connect with Boromir, trying to engage him on very specific topics. Boromir had not been amused. 

Denethor would never say that Boromir hating Gandalf’s vibes was the reason he settled for mundanity. Boromir had many good reasons, he is sure. But the fact that he chose that moment to settle, so that Denethor was allowed to watch Gandalf also realise that Boromir was no longer ‘apt to his hand’, well he might have gleaned some little pleasure from it. 

The only aspect Boromir retains is his general resistance to such spookiness. Hence his frustration in both Rivendell and Lothlorien, the time distortion of those places not effecting him and the imposed rest not touching him, meaning he feels every passing day keenly. It also explains his resistance towards the Balrog’s doomful presence, as well as his heightened distress at Galadriel’s ability to see into his mind, where he had always been able to defend himself before. 

Faramir on the other hand is seven when he settles, thoroughly content with his spooky powers and wanting even more command over them. It is with this settling that he becomes able to sometimes cause people pain for lying to him. Denethor... struggles as a single father for many reasons.

[intergalactic-padawan]

inquisitor - Ezra Bridger

Requested: yes, by the beautiful @raganbridger! Sorry for the wait, it's finally here!

Warnings: angst, dark side!reader, confusion, mentions of bad injuries/blood, betrayal

A/N: You asked for le angst, so here it is! I've had this idea for a long while and this request was the motivation I needed to start. LOTS of alternative endings were written, this was mostly the reason it took so long.

Pronouns of reader: she/her

*ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE! I make mistakes just like everybody else 😉*

x

.

-"oh, good, you're awake"

You sit and inhale sharply, focusing back on the real world, startled at the strange voice.

Well, not so strange per se. You knew who was talking to you. What was strange was why he was talking to you.

Before you can adjust your vision to the unfamiliar environment, the memories from hours earlier instantly come flooding back.

Malachor. The place where jedi go to die.

An easy kill for you and your inquisitor colleagues.

That's what they had said on the ship, at least. You, on the other hand, knew better than to underestimate how slippery those jedi could be - especially if they fought side by side, like they always did.

You remember cornering the younger one during the fight. His skill was minimal compared to yours, which would give you an advantage against his master if he were to die first.

The boy and his friends go after the sith holocron. There had been a blinding light when it was placed at the altar.

And also, the jedi knight who was blinded by your former master, Maul.

Maul.

Not only had the cursed man left you for dead years before, he had come back from hiding to haunt you and join forces with your other enemies.

But you were an inquisitor. You wouldn't - you couldn't let him get the best of you, not this time.

You feel a light hand pressing your forehead and recoil in fear, reaching for your lightsaber, only to feel it was not there.

-"whoah, woah, calm down. I'm not going to hurt you" - it was the padawan you'd been fighting before - Ezra Bridger. He had placed you and his master inside a cave in a planet you were not familiar with when you'd escaped Malachor.

You'd escapd Malachor? But how?

You couldn't have, unless he'd carried you back to his ship.

-"hey, hey, it's alright."

-"what do you want, jedi?" - you wince in pain again.

-"a thank you would be nice, actually. I did just save your life"

-"a foolish mistake. One you will pay for with yours"

You reach out for your lightsaber, but can't feel it anywhere close. Scouring with the force for its presence, you quickly realize he must have hidden it outside the place.

-"Nope, absolutely not" - just as quickly, he slaps your outstreched hand - "I may be an idiot, but i'm not stupid. Your lightsaber's not here, it's caused enough damage already."

You rub the hand he pushed away, more shocked at his actions than anything. How DARE he?

-"Then what do you want from me, if not revenge? Why treat my wounds if not to finish the battle we started?"

-"Listen, I'm not sure if it's the adrnaline or something, but you're in no condition to fight anyone any time soon"

-"You underestimete me, Jedi. Even in these conditions you would be no match for me."

-"Like I wasn't a match for you at the sith temple?"

At the mention of the event, images of the fight start to come back.

Back at the sanctuary, you drew him away from the fight, knowing his strengh lied with his allies. Only, you hadn't imagined your former master to join his side - not until you'd seen the holocron in Ezra's hands, at least. You'd warned him: "he will use it and throw you away. Like he did to me". Needless to say, he didn't listen.

Your vision starts to lose focus at the intensity of your anger and you groan in pain, not able to sit anymore. Driven by instinct, the padawan holds your side so you won't fall completely, pressing your abdomen and making you hiss in pain.

-"ah, looks like I was right. You're conscious, but not healed" - you feel yourself be adjusted back on the ground, too weak to fight him.

-"where are we? Why did you save my life?"

He hesitates, eyes studying you, like you might attack him any second and he still knew it.

-"not so sure" - he finally answers - "maybe because now you owe me one?"

-"Did you hit your head or something?" You scoff - "Make no mistake, I WILL kill you when the opportunity rises!"

-"And that is why your lightsaber privileges have been revoked for now."

You lock eyes, studying him like he had you. It made no sense- you'd followed his group to the sith temple, tried to kill him several times, called for the man who had murdered his strongest ally, Ahsoak Tano. Why was he helping you?

With a shiver, you realize he's still holding your side, not as firmly as before but still providing support for your back. Inhaling sharply, you graze his hand and he lets go instantly, realizing how close the two of you had gotten.

Standing up just as quickly, he brushes a strand of unruly hair our of his forehead, while you you clean your throat, diverting your attention to the exit of the cave. The rain pours on the large trees outside, but you can't make out much except for the fact that you're in a forest planet (maybe a moon?) and his ship is in less than ideal conditions to get out of it.

-"here" - Ezra kneels down with two bacta patches and a piece of fabric from a medical kit -"i felt your back was pretty sore, but didn't want to take off your shirt while you were out. Your cuts need cleaning."

You hesitantly take the items, using the rocks behind you as support to lean your body on. He stands up, hands on hips, and chuckles when you sniff the gel, suspicious.

With the small bit of privacy he gives you by turning around to check on his master, you fumble with your shirt, deciding to take it off in order to see better.

-"Need some help over there?" - he asks, hearing you grunt in frustration at not being able to reach some spots

-"Not from you, thank you very much"

-"Oh, so she CAN say thank you! That's a welcome change"

You throw the rag at his direction, irritated out of your mind. Who does he think he is??

He must sense the harmless ball of soaked fabric coming his way, turning around to catch it mid-air. Now that he's turned, you see a glimpse of amusement in his eyes at your rage, giving you the answer you needed as to why he went through the trouble of saving you; it was merely to see you suffer and laugh at your expense, apparently.

His expression quickly changed when he saw your bruised torso, however.

- "who did this to you?" - he whispers, and you look down at you look down at your sore ~ well, everything~, covered only by a wrap in the bust area.

-"As you said, jedi. I may be better than you, but you still gave me a decent challenge"

"No. I didn't even hit you there." - his serious reaction to your injuries had caught you off guard, you had to admit. - "those are old and deep, you shouldn't even be able to walk!"

-"I'm not, remember?" - you motion at your debilitated situation, unable to even sit down or cross your legs properly -"But i will be, soon. And then it's over for you"

-"you know what? I think if you wanted to, you would have killed me by now." - he shoots back and you're impressed at his audacity once again.

But he had a point. Why hadn't you attacked him yet?

Sure, you had no lightsaber or phisical conditions to stand, but your force abilities were still as strong as ever. You were vulnerable, but so was he, and you weren't kidding when you said you could deal with him even at your worse.

-"you know what? " - you cross your arms. He was playing with fire now - "maybe I might"

-"and why haven't you?"

-"because I wouldn't enjoy it as much." - you snap back venomously - "I want to see you suffer before I bring you to Lord Vader"

His expression darkens at the mention of Ahsoka's murderer. His whole body stiffens as he balls his wrists and clearly struggles to control his anger at the recent loss. For a moment, you fear you've gone too far, but reprimand yourself for worrying about his feelings over yours. You're not supposed to be anything more than indifferent to the weak and ruthless to those who dare oppose you.

-"Yeah, no matter what you do, you're still imperial scum"

You're not prepared for those words to affect you so much. You're supposed to have a response, but nothing coherent seems to come out of your mouth, so you settle for an an uncomfortable silence.

It doesn't last for long, however, as his comlink goes off. It's his droid, asking - no, demanding - that he go help him with repairs on the ship. He hesitates, looking at you and contemplating how bad it would be to leave you unnatended in the company of his defenseless master.

-"Dont worry."- You reassure him. -"I won't make his situation worse. Maul is the worse you can get, and I refuse to step that low"

You can see he doesnt like it, but leaves for a few moments before returning with what must be the droid that talked to him before. It was a C1 series unit with an orange top and a bratty atitude, you could tell that much by just seeing him interact with the jedi.

-"Chopper will stay here, just in case"

-"I understand. It's fine."

-"I wasn't asking if you were fine with it. Behave" - you can't be sure if his command is directed at you or the droid, but you weren't about to ask.

The coldness he now had to his voice was understandable - you had worked to get him to that emotional state - ,but you felt hurt at the change. The droid didn't do much to help you think clearly about what just happened, and by the look of it, your frustration would only grow bigger in the many hours it would still take to repair the ship to a normal flying condition.

'He thinks i'm imperial scum, huh?' - you think as you scour a pile of your belongings with the force, not too far away inside the cave.

Bad news, your lightsaber really wasn't there.

Good news, your wrist comm was.

'i'll show him imperial scum'

With a plan forming in mind, all you had to do now was be patient and wait for the right time. There's no exchange of words between the two of you when he gets back, which makes time fly by before he's betrayed by exaution and finally gives in to sleep. You take care of the droid easily after that.

Activating the tracking beacon, you start to leave the cave, but not before noticing the boy's lightsaber beside him. It was a bold move, he could easily wake up if you took it, but you knew that if he woke up to see you gone you'd need it to compensate for your injuries.

You were still on opposing sides, after all.

You knew there had to be an imperial ship near the planet, and they would pick up your signal in an instant when you called. Wallking to a less dense area of the forest, away from the crash site, you're proven right when, in a matter of minutes, a shuttle tripulated by four troopers and a senior lieutenant meet you on the ground.

-"and what of the jedi?" - the higher ranking woman asks when you finish your brief description of the events that led you there.

Well, not all events. You'd left out the part where Bridger had helped you recover.

You could just tell them to take the two jedi for excecution. You were supposed to do it, in fact.

-"it's just me. And the younger one's lightsaber" - you finally answer, not exactly knowing why you'd deliberately just saved them.

She nods curtly and escorts you back to the ship without a second glance. It was a good story so far, but you would have to work on it if your superiors were to believe it.

-"Wait- " - you start, second-guessing your motives for not giving away their location. One of the troopers turns to you expectantly.

-"yes, sir?"

You hesitate for a moment, ready to do what you'd beeen taught to do your whle life. Kill the jedi.

Kill the jedi.

A tingling crept up your sides, where the padawan had touched earlier to give you support. You try to betray the gut feeling pressing you to do your duty as an inquisitor, but it's stronger than you. Something is forcing your better judgement to be leaving your natural enemies alive.

-"nothing." - the tingle goes away as soon as it had come, leaving an unusual feeling of relief. - "Thought i'd sensed something. Let's leave"

'Perhaps it's for the best'. - you think as the shuttle's door closes. After all, you did owe him one for saving your life - whatever his reason was for doing so.

That was what you told yourself as you boarded the ship, at least. Now, the next time you saw him, there would be nothing to stop you from finishing him and his friends for good.

.

x

Hope you like it? I gave him a 'hands on hips' moment in honour of your videos for a more personalized touch hahahaha

[datleggy]

Totally random thought I had right as I am going to bed but ya know that show "I didn't know I was pregnant"? Buck would be on that show lol the boy is oblivious when it comes to his own body, so like I can perfectly picture him collapsing on the job one day wracked with pain, and then Hen is poking around his stomach where it hurts, her, Buck and Eddie packed into the back of the ambulance as Chim and Bobby drive to the hospital, and she gets out the stethoscope to try and listen for internal bleeding or anything but instead finds an infant heartrate and she's like "Buck, you're pregnant?" And he's like "uh, no? What the hell?" And then his water breaks and he tries to convince hen and Eddie that he had an accident bc even that would be a better alternative to suddenly figuring out he's about to have a baby???? What the fuck???? But Eddie holds his hand all the way through it and by the time they get to the hospital, Buck has a healthy newborn cradled against his chest, Eddie knelt beside him and alternating between kissing buck and the baby on the head, and observing the baby in disbelief. I can also picture Buck like, sobbing his sorry's to Eddie the entire time he's pushing, like "Eddie I swear I had no idea, if I had known, I would have told you!" And Eddie is just reassuring him the entire time like "don't worry about that now, Buck, just concentrate. No one is mad, okay? But you gotta focus on the- on the baby" and buck just sobs and nods and focuses on the delivery again. But for a good while Buck is in denial that any of this is happening and it takes a lot of convincing and encouragement from both hen and Eddie for him to start actively participating in his baby's birth. Anyways, random half asleep thought is finished sorry for the long ask hdshsjjsjdbsjsj

WELL SHIT ok so i actually love that show and i could see buck doing this lmao so i wrote a thing. also ignore all medical inaccuracies, this is my distraction from monday lmao let me have this wildly inept fic pls. 

also just in case, it’s pretty brief, i think, but TW for talk of weight and weight gain

It's nearing the end of their shift now and Buck can almost hear his feet howling at him in pain. Today hadn't even really been all that busy, he thinks, annoyed at his own body's betrayal. He's not even thirty yet, but in the last couple of months he's felt as though he's aged about ten years.

He's put on a few pounds, which isn't too uncommon, sometimes Buck goes through stretches of time where he eats more carbs than he needs and works out less than he'd like and so a little tummy fat is to be expected.

It normally doesn't bother him, except that in the last maybe three months he hasn't felt like exercising much outside of work but he's eaten nearly everything in sight every night. He's up about fifteen pounds, which he wouldn't have even noticed, seeing that he does fluctuate at times anywhere between five to eight pounds over or under what he usually weighs, if it hadn't been for Chimney teasing him about putting down his third Krispy Kreme donut of the day and picking up a barbell earlier this morning.

Chim and Buck poke fun at each other all the time--it's a staple in their friendship and brother ship, in fact--and Buck had flipped him the bird, nothing new there. What had been new was the fact that he'd excused himself to the bathroom right after that and locked himself in a stall and bawled his eyes out as quietly as humanly possible.

Buck grimaces, embarrassed still, by the outburst, even if no one had been there to witness it. He still has no idea what the hell that had been about this morning.

Eddie notices the sour mood and pulls him in close. "Hey, you ok?"

Buck nods. "Yeah, just tired. Ready to go home--shit." Buck feels a shooting pain so intense his knees buckle and Eddie has to hold him upright to keep him from hitting the floor. 

“Woah!” Eddie calls Bobby over, who’s closest, for help, “Buck? Buck, you with me? What’s wrong? What hurts?” 

Buck just shakes his head and grits his teeth, the pain so debilitating he can hardly breathe much less speak. 

The Captain is on his other side in an instant and together Eddie and Bobby help Buck towards the couch, where he collapses in a heap, throwing his head back and letting out an agonized whine. “What’s going on? Did he get hurt during one of the calls?” Bobby asks Eddie, frantic to help put a stop to this. 

Eddie’s helpless, “Bobby I don’t know, one second we were talking about going home and the next he practically fell to the floor in pain.” he turns to face his husband, “Baby, I’m here, look at me, what’s the matter? What hurts?” 

Buck’s face scrunches up and he finally exhales sharply, his grip on the couch cushions loosening, and he opens his eyes, wide like saucers, and says, “What the fuck was that?” 

At this point Hen and Chim, as well as half the crew, have gathered around and Hen is quick to put on her doctors hat and try to sus out the problem. She makes Bobby step aside and Chimney hands her a stethoscope. “Buck, is it your stomach?” she asks, noticing the stiff way he’s holding himself around his midriff. 

“I don’t--kinda? I don’t know. It was just like, this crazy wave of pain, almost like a cramp, but way worse.” he struggles to describe the feeling now that it’s more or less passed for the time being.  

Hen had seen Buck wince when he’d been in the harness on the last call of the day, but he hadn’t said anything and she hadn’t thought too much about it until now. “Did you hurt yourself in the harness earlier? Maybe pulled something when we reeled you back up?” she asks, palpitating his stomach with her fingers, watching him almost retract from her touch. 

“Maybe?” Buck shrugs uncomfortably, wincing when she hits a particularly sore spot. 

Something about this feels familiar and strangely obvious, but Hen doesn’t understand why until she puts her stethoscope up to his belly to check for lack of bowel sounds, indicating maybe some internal bleeding or sorts. 

Hen gasps out loud and sits up like she’s been smacked. 

Eddie frowns. “What? What’s wrong? Is he gonna be ok?” He almost wants to snatch the damn stethoscope out of her ears and check for himself, his eyes darting between Hen and Buck nervously. 

“Buck, you’re pregnant. And in labor, by the sounds of it.” Hen blurts out in disbelief. 

“What.” Buck blinks at her, waiting for the other shoe to drop. This has to be a joke. 

“I heard a heartbeat in there...” Hen informs them, still awed. “Buck, that was a contraction you just experienced.” 

Eddie gapes at Hen and then at Buck. “You’re pregnant?” 

Buck gapes right back at him. “No!” he denies, shaking his head incredulously. “That’s insane, I can’t be pregn--ah--” Buck leans forward in pain as another contraction begins. “Fuck.” 

“Jesus, yeah, no you’re definitely pregnant,” Chim announces, “Your water just broke all over my favorite couch, bud. I’m getting the ambulance ready asap.” he says, before running to do just that, head reeling. He thinks about Maddie and when she gave birth to their daughter and how scared out of his mind he’d been and he sympathizes for Buck and Eddie, who up until now apparently hadn’t even realizes they were expecting... 

Back at the lounge Buck continues to deny any of this is even happening. He whines into Eddie’s chest, “That’s pee, it has to be, because I’m not pregnant. There’s no way.” he lets out a pitiful whimper as another contraction begins and buries his face against his husband to hide the tears springing up in his eyes. 

“Buck, son, we gotta get you to a hospital right now.” Bobby tries, running a soothing hand over the top of his head. 

But Buck shakes his head no, shuddering out a sob. “M’not going.” 

Eddie, overwhelmed, looks to Hen and Bobby for help. 

“Buck, ambulance is ready to go, we need to move unless you wanna have this kid at the firehouse.” Hen grimaces. “I know you’re in pain and I know you’re confused and hurting, but we need to get you into that ambulance and now.” 

Buck cries out when another contraction hits him and Hen gulps. “Your contractions are getting way too close together, we need to move.” she nods at her Captain and Eddie to help get Buck up and together the three of them manage to get Buck onto a gurney and into the waiting ambulance.

Bobby rides up front with Chimney, leaving Hen and Eddie to work in the back with Buck. 

“Buck, you need to start getting ready to push, this baby’s coming.” Hen warns him, but Buck refuses. 

“I can’t.” he sobs. “I didn’t--” he throws his head back, the pain lighting his nerves on fire. “I swear Eddie, I didn’t know. You gotta believe me.”

Eddie takes Bucks hand into his and brings it up to his lips. “I know baby, I know, you don’t have to worry about that. I promise. Nobody is mad at you, ok? I’m not. But right now you need to focus on pushing, you need to listen to Hen, ok? We’re ok, and you’re gonna be ok, but I need you to push, baby. I love you so much, you know that, right?” 

Buck lets Eddie wipe away his tears, leans into the comforting touch, and nods shakily, exhaling. “O-ok, I’m--I’m ready.” 

.

.

.

**************

.

.

.

The baby is so very tiny in Eddie’s arms. 

Olive Buckley-Diaz is born weighing exactly six pounds and two ounces. 

Christopher, who’s curled up against Bucks side on the hospital bed after a very exhausting day, looks up at his Buck, his little brow still knitted in confusion. “So she was a surprise baby? And that’s how come you guys didn’t tell me about her?” 

Buck tries not to laugh. “Yeah bud, it was a huge surprise to us, too.” 

Eddie nods along, smiling fondly down at the bundle he’s holding. Her blotchy red face is slack in sleep and there’s already tufts of brown hair sticking up funnily on her head under her hat. “I still can’t believe you only gained like fifteen pounds during the whole pregnancy.” Eddie chuckles, “Or that you worked through the nine months, God Buck, when I think of the stunts you pulled during calls in the last few months alone I’m--” he shudders. “Actually I’d rather not think about it.” he sighs, “I’m just happy you’re both healthy at the end of the day.” 

Really, it’s a miracle. The doctor had said as much after the delivery. 

“To be fair I never got any of the other symptoms,” Buck shrugs. “I wasn’t nauseous, my feet never swelled, I don’t remember any weird cravings? And you said it yourself, I didn’t really gain all that much weight.” 

Eddie leans down to kiss Buck’s forehead. “You should be on that show.” he grins. 

Buck tilts his head. 

“You know the one, the one Hen made us watch when work was slow that one time. ‘I didn’t know I was pregnant’.” he teases. 

Buck groans. “I regret all the jokes I made at the time. I totally get those people now. Pregnancy is weird.” 

Christopher rests his head more comfortably against Bucks chest and smiles softly. “Yeah, but now our family’s even bigger.” 

.

[prof-peach]

Professor! Something is wrong with Michi! (Litten) he has this green...slime? Coming down from his mouth, it might just Be puke or something Else, But Michi has Been sick before, and this has never happend, he is also really dizzy and doesen't seem to Be sure of where he is, If i'm not closet to him he goes into panic mode, what should i do? I've Been meaning to take him to a poke-center but he HATES poke-centers and i don't want to Make him More uncomftrable than he already is,what do i do?

You dear need to get that pokemon to a centre, or a doctor. That set of ailments sounds very dubious, and you need to do the right thing for your partner, AND for the health of all pokemon who come into contact with them, for all we know at this point is that what Michi has is infectious and dangerous to others. y’all know whats more uncomfortable that Michi’s current state? Death. A lot of diseases and illnesses left untreated, or even just left too late can be fatal or debilitating, I don’t mean to alarm of course, chances are this is just a bit of a viral infection or something harmless enough, but you MUST get them to a professional when symptoms like this show up. 

We are very easily lulled into a sense of thinking that all pokemon are these hyper intelligent and almost human like beings, but sometimes (especially with younger individuals such as your michi) we need to act a little tougher to get them to the specialists they may need. 

Its like getting a young kid to go get their vaccinations, they won’t go by choice, like, yeah it sucks but if you don’t get them done, all who come in contact with your unvaccinated kids are at risk. The adults (you)  have to make rational and logical choices to give the individual (michi) the best chance at a healthy happy life. This is exactly one of those cases. 

Pokemon don’t always like going to the doctors, I know, trust me i’ve been bitten and kicked and whipped and chewed on enough to understand this. It doesn't make it any less important to train our beloved partners to at least understand that its sometimes scary at first, but necessary. 

For this particular instance, he sounds very sick, enough to warrant keeping him in his ball until you get to a secure treatment room with a nurse or doctor to look them over. They're quite trained in handling even difficult patients, so you shouldn't be too worried, so long as you tell them that Michi is a little uneasy and may lash out in his confused state. Once he’s been diagnosed and helped hopefully, get him well and medicate or do whatever is needed according to your practitioner. 

Once well again, you need to help him associate the pokemon centre with good stuff. Training a pokemon isn't just attacks and basic commands like ‘sit’ and ‘stay’, its also about them being able to be safe, get checks when sick, and not hurt people trying to help them. Take them to the centre, just get into the building, maybe hang out a while, have a soda, meet a friend, that kind of thing. If its quiet ask the staff if they can interact with your partner, give treats, get to know them. Its very important that you can build a sense of trust to pokemon centres at Michi’s young size now, because I promise you an Incineroar that doesn't want to do something just flat out wont, it takes a LOT to get them to treatment if they've built up a dislike for the facilities. fixing this dislike at his earlier age will help in the long run, and I advise you to do this once treatment is over and your buddy is better.  I do hope you two can find out whats up, I can’t diagnoses an issue such as this from a distance, this is an illness that requires hands on observations and testing of samples, somethings not right here at all. be brave, be responsible, do right by your buddy, things will be just fine if you can get them the correct care. 

[hrtthrbromanov]

Golden Boy

summary - Its been a long, long time. 

word count -  3033

Warnings - smut, fluff, maybe angst if you squint? 

Notes - Hi! I cannot write smut, so I’m deeply sorry about that. I just wanted to try my hand at it. However, if you do have any requests for future works please let me know ! I’d be more than happy to write it. 

________________________________________________________________

Two years. 

It's been two years since the incident in Lagos. Two years since the team split. Two years since you've seen him. 

You run your palms nervously up and down your thighs, the friction doing little to subside your nerves. Your mind was spinning, thinking of everything that could happen. Everything that could go wrong. You were pissed, sure, but just the thought of seeing him again made you cram whatever petty thing you wanted to say to him in the far corner of your mind.

‘What if he doesn't want to see me too? What if we can't put this past us? What if-’ 

“We're here.” 

Your debilitating thoughts stop at once. You stand, forcing yourself over to the window.  Everything was so beautiful. So advanced. You can't wrap your head around it all. You thought pointing out everything you saw was a good way to ground yourself and quell the anxiety, but once you felt the jet lowering to the ground, your nervous habits got to you again, and you have to will yourself to not wring your hands raw. 

“It's going to be okay, Lady Y/N.” A firm hand was placed on your shoulder as Thor offered you a few words of encouragement. You smile up at him, tight lipped and nostrils flared, still not convinced. 

“Yeah, what's the worst that could happen? They call you a traitor, turning their backs on you and never speak to you again?”

You turned to face the talking raccoon, scrunching up your face in confusion. “I really should've skinned you a long time ago.” You retorted, tugging at his ears as he pawed at you in protest. “Cut it out, you're gonna give me tetanus, you rat.” You giggle, briefly forgetting about your impending thoughts. 

“I am groot.” 

“Yeah, what he said. Suck it, Y/N.” Rocket hisses, pulling away from your assault. You went to reply, but before you could you felt the ground shudder below you. ‘We've landed.’ You realize. You quickly smooth down your suit, going over yourself one last time. ‘Whatever happens, happens.’ you reason with yourself. You felt a gush of wind rush past you as the doors of the ship opened, revealing tall, eccentric buildings, complemented with a deep blue sky. 

You hold your breath as you step out of the ship, unsure of what to expect. You let out your breath when the palace came into view. Your heart thudded in your chest when you made out a huddle of people right in front, no doubt waiting for you. Taking it a step at a time, you made your way over. As you neared the group you could make out Rhodey, Bruce, Natasha, Bucky, and Steve. 

“Two fossils in one place? I didn't know this was a paleontologist convention.” 

As if on cue, they all turned to face you and you could've sworn the world stopped for just a second. You didn't know what to do so you just stood there, offering a meek smile. 

“Who you calling fossil, dollface?” 

Bucky was the first to approach you, his arms open and a grin you missed so much on his face. You threw your arms around his neck as he encased you with his, squeezing nearly all you had left in you out. The hug ended all too soon as another pair of hands was pulling you two apart. 

“Share some with the rest of us, hog.” 

It was Nat. Your smile only grew upon seeing her. She pulled you into her, her hand going to cradle your head. “It's been too long,” she mumbled into your ear. You nodded against her, pulling back slightly to take in her face. 

“Hey, Y/N.” 

A small but unmistakable voice called from behind you. You pull away from Natasha's embrace to greet Bruce. He looked as nervous as you felt. “Now here's a face I haven't seen in a while. How you doing, big man?” You attempted to ease him as you took him in your arms. 

“I've had better days,” he said, the reply muffled by your shoulder. He patted your back as a friendly gesture after you escape from his hold. His expression became softer, as if he were more sure of himself now. 

“I hope you weren't thinking you could skip me.” 

You turned to Rhodey to see his smug grin. You grabbed his hand in yours as he clasped a hand on your back. “Now why would I have such a thought,” you chuckle as he stepped back.  

This left one person. The one person you haven't heard speak since you set foot in Wakanda. You knew he wanted to say something, to scoop you into his arms and say sorry, how he wished it'd never had happened, how he shouldn't have let you go. You could feel his eyes burning a hole into your head. Mustering all the courage you had, you turn to face him. But before you could say anything, a booming voice sounded from behind you. 

“Bruce and friends! Come look at my ship!”

You could hear Rocket bickering with Thor about how it was his ship, not Thor's, and how he was just some homeless pirate who needed to take a hike. You roll your eyes as everyone made their way over to take a closer look. Everyone but Steve. You two stood there, neither one of you making a move to speak. The silence wasn't normal for you two, uncomfortable even, so you said the first thing that came to your mind when looking at his face. 

“So, did you just not have razors, or were you going for a new look?” 

Steve breathed a sigh of relief, followed by a chuckle soon after. He stood up taller before he spoke, “You know, I thought I'd look cool, but now, I just feel.. old.” It was nice falling back into your silly exchanges, especially after such a time apart. The ache in your heart slowly dissipated as you looked into his eyes. You grin, tilting your head to the side, “Well, it's about time. You're only 70 years too late.” 

Steve threw his head back as laughter erupted from his throat. As his laughter came to a stop, he was the one to pull you into a hug. You melt into his arms, taking in his scent as you bury your nose into his chest. You missed this. You missed him. 

You held each other in silence for what seemed to be an eternity until he said it first.

“I missed you.”

“Getting all sentimental on me now, old man?” 

“Y/N..” he chuckled at your attempt to minimize your feelings, though, by his eyes, you could tell it was no joke to him. 

“I know, I know. I.. I missed you too, Steve. Man, I have thought about this moment for a long, long while. I-I don’t even remember everything that I wanted to say.” You were stumbling over your words, emotions getting too thick, it’s evident in your voice. 

“Hey,” Steve ran his hands up and down your arms to soothe you, “we don’t have to talk about this. Not right now, at least. Let’s just catch up. Enjoy being back.” He smiles, and this time you could see the genuine happiness and relief in his eyes. He was gorgeous without even trying, and you’d punch him later for it. 

“I’d like that. Thank you, Steve.” Your breathing finally evened and your words flowed once again. He never pushed you, and for that, you were grateful. 

“But I do have to ask..” 

“Steeeeve..” 

“I know, I’m sorry, but it’s just been eating at the back of my mind. According to Rhodey, you left a note on the fridge six months ago saying ‘brb’?” He used air quotes to punctuate your silly informalities. 

You laugh softly, looking down, “I called up some old friends, told them I needed a getaway, traveled the galaxies for a bit..” 

“And Thor?” 

“You know, we just got him a whole, I don’t know, two hours ago, but man has he eaten literally everything in the ship.” 

You two share a laugh as you looked over to see Bucky berating the raccoon as he tried to pry his metal arm from his body. 

“Should we leave them to it?” Steve looked back to you. His eyes fluttered over your face, taking in every detail. He left deliberate glances to your lips with no attempt to act on anything. You roll your eyes playfully, “Yeah, we’ve got a lot of catching up to do.” 

—————————————————————

“It’s so beautiful.” 

You and Steve had made your way into the palace, now standing in a room high above the colony. You were looking out of the windows, which touched from floor to ceiling, still stunned by the advancement of Wakanda. 

“I couldn’t agree more.” 

You could feel Steve’s presence behind you now. Even from behind, you could feel his eyes rake over your body. He was trying to memorize every curve, every muscle, every ripple in your skin. 

You turned to face him, as he didn’t seem as infatuated with sightseeing, more so interested in you. You tilted your head to the side as you caught the longing look in his eyes. “I was talking about this place. Wakanda.” You quirk an eyebrow at him. 

“That may be what you’re talking about, sweetheart, but I was talking about something twice as stunning.” 

“Always such a charmer, Steven?” You rolled your eyes at his sickeningly sweet attempt to woo you. You didn't want to admit it, but even after all this time he still had hold of your heart. 

The wind was pulled from your lungs as he grabbed a hold of your waist and pulled you flush against his body. Your eyes found his as he studied you more intently now. His grip on you not letting up, as if he was afraid you’d run or disappear. 

His face was closer now, his breath fanning your face as he spoke, “I miss you. I want you.” His voice came out as a low grumble, vibrating your entire body. 

“And as much as I miss you, I think I want the old cap back. What do you say we get rid of that bear growing on your face? Don’t get me wrong, it’s sexy, but..” 

“I get it, I get.” Steve chuckled as he pulled back, but not before placing a faint kiss to your lips, the feeling lingering just a little longer as he turned away, making his way to the bathroom. 

You stood there for a second, watching him disappear into the bathroom as you contemplate your next move. Once you realized he wasn’t going to come back for you, you hastily made your way after him, eager to be close to him again.

Steve’s body hovers over the bathtub, adjusting the temperature of the steady flow pouring into the tub. You move to stand behind him, your fingers running up his sides and he shivers, leaning  into your touch a bit. Your lips find their way to his neck, placing careful kisses along the curve of it, all the way down to his shoulder. 

“You gonna let me take care of you, Cap?” Your voice comes out soft, and you’re almost embarrassed because of it. But you knew it didn’t really matter, because you knew he loved it. He turns to face you, grinning like the cocky shit he’d become as he caged you in against the bathroom sink. 

“S’that what you want, sweetheart? To take care of your captain?” You shiver as his hands slide their way up your shirt, caressing your skin lightly. You roll your eyes, biting down on your bottom lip, trying to hide the smirk that desperately wanted to escape. You knew what he was getting at, and honestly, two could play that game.

“Yes, captain.” Your response doesn’t take any thought, and neither does his next move as he pulls your shirt over your head, flinging it into the corner of the room. You give his shirt the same treatment, and he chuckles as you struggle to pull it over his broad shoulders. He gives you some help, taking it off the rest of the way. You let your eyes travel down his chest while your hands go up it, and his hands find their way to the clip of your bra. Your back arches as he unclips your bra, letting it slip down your arms and onto the floor. He audibly growls and you laugh, pushing him back a little. You begin to wiggle your way out of your pants, never breaking eye contact with him. “Come on, Steve. I’ve never known you to be this slow. You can keep up, can’t you?” You tease him, giggling as you watch his eyes grow darker. Stepping out of your pants, your panties are the next to go. You can feel the nerves bubble in your chest, but it just makes this moment all the more exciting. 

You saunter over to the bathtub, stepping in and lowering yourself down slowly. You quirk an eyebrow up at him, silently telling him to get on with it. You settle yourself into the water, hissing at the feeling of the warmth that covered your aching body. Before you know it, the water was rippling once again as his much larger body made its way into the tub with you. You watched him for a second before scooting down towards him, and he didn’t hesitate to pull you into his lap.

“Missed your pretty face..” Steve nuzzles his nose into your neck and you giggle, bringing your hands up to run your fingers through his hair. You shift so you’re straddling his lap, your hands resting on his broad shoulders, pushing him back gently to rest against the wall. You let your hands travel to his beard, smirking as your fingers tangle themselves in it. You reach for the clippers resting on the side of the bathtub, tilting your head as you eye him, curiously. 

“I don’t know if I actually want it gone so soon.. It’s startin’ to grow on me. Maybe just a little trim.” 

“Maybe… Maybe you let me take what's mine first.”

“Just as impatient as always.. Relax, golden boy.” He snorts at that, letting his fingers run up your sides, occasionally dipping below the water. You just hum, running the razor carefully over the hairs of his face. Before you could make a move, you felt his hands on your hips, hoisting you out of the water. Your yelp of surprise turned into a quiet whimper when you felt his hardening member graze the inside of your thigh. “S-Steve..” He shushes you, his half lidded eyes running over your form, causing you to shiver in his hold. “It can wait. I need you, babydoll.” His voice comes out in a thick, slurred drawl. You roll your eyes, setting down the blade. 

“You’re lucky I don’t knick you with that.” Your threats are empty, of course, and he knew that too. It was all in good fun. The fun was cut short when the breath was knocked out of your lungs as he thrusts into you with no warning. You whimper, hands flying up to his shoulders as your nails dig into his skin. You bite your lip to hold in a moan as he slowly pulls back out. 

“Nuh-uh, none of that. Want to hear you. Hear how much you missed me.” his thumb comes up to your mouth, pulling on your lip until you release it. He then takes that as a go ahead to resume, lifting his hips up and pushing back into you. He lets his head fall back against the wall with a thud, his mouth falling open. “Fuck, baby. You’re so tight. You been savin’ this pussy for me?” he growls, taking on a brutal pace, making the water slosh up and over the side of the tub. 

You nod vigorously in response, nails raking down his chest. “Yes, sir. Waited for you.” You whine, bouncing up and down to meet the powerful thrusts of his cock. “That’s right, babydoll. This pussy is mine. And mine only.” his eyes are dark as he watches where you connect. 

His mouth goes to your neck, kissing you gently, a nice contrast to everything else. Bringing your hands up to his face, you pull him away from your neck and up to your face, capturing his lips in a deep kiss. He wastes no time sliding his tongue past your lips, yours immediately submitting to him. 

Suddenly, you cry out into his mouth as you feel his thumb on your clit, flicking harshly. “Steve, steve please.” your hand goes to his wrist, holding it in place to chase that feeling. He smirks against your lips, pulling away. 

“Use your words, princess. What do you want, huh?”

He’s driving you mad, and in any other instance you’d leave to finish off yourself just to spite him, but you need him. “Please let me cum, steve. M’so close.” you pant, grinding against him. He gives you what you want, pushing on your clit just a little bit harder, sending you over the edge. You squeeze around his cock, taking him with you. He moans, holding you in place as he cums deep inside of you and you squeal. 

“Steven! You know i don’t use birth control, you dumbass!” You quickly pull off of him, stepping out of the tub. You grab a towel, wrapping it around yourself. You turn around to glare at him, head tilted as if to wait for an explanation. 

He laughs, stepping out after you. “Just doing what I should've done a long time ago, doll. Gotta make you mine. We’ll work out the details as time goes, but I want this with you. I don’t want to leave again.” Your face softens as you nod, walking into his arms, laying your head on his chest. “I want it too. Whatever it is. Promise we’ll stick together this time? No matter what?”

“I promise.”

[sneezefiction]

home

Kuroo x Reader - Scenario

desc: sometimes loneliness finds you in your weakest moments. however, even as you grapple with your feelings for Kuroo, he still manages to make you feel at home.

warnings: depictions/discussions of loneliness, anxiety, mild angst, briefly mentions family issues, language

wc: 4k

---

This isn’t exactly what Kuroo had expected when you’d texted him to come get you from the campus library. 

He’d driven up to the building’s curb-side donning a gray hoodie and a cheeky, cheshire grin, ready to take you back to the apartment and put on some sort of sci-fi movie. But as you slowly approach the dented, familiar car, your feet lightly dragging on the concrete as you grew closer, he realizes that the movie watching would have to wait.

Because as he opens the tinted passenger-side window, Kuroo can tell you’ve been crying.

It was dark out, something you had hoped would disguise your teary eyes. But grief was etched into the lines of a tired grimace and the illumination of the lamppost was just bright enough to reveal your tear-streaked cheeks. By the look of it, he could deduce that you’ve been wiping them away for a while now.

Kuroo can’t help but stare, taken-aback by the puffiness in your face and that lost look in your eyes. You seemed so vulnerable, so alone out in the open like that.

If it weren’t for his tight, surprise-induced grip on the wheel, he would’ve gotten out of the car and held you right where you stood. But his feelings for you were… more than complicated. You also appeared uncomfortable standing out there on your own, and understandably so. This wasn’t exactly your emotional norm. Or at least, knowing you, he didn’t think it was.

You tugged at your sleeves, biting your lip sharply enough that Kuroo thought it had to hurt, and avoided his golden gaze. You were ashamed that he had to see you like this. 

Kuroo, your roommate turned best friend, was finally witnessing one of your infrequent, but debilitating mental breakdowns. No one was supposed to see you like this, eyes red and lips bruised from frustrated chewing. It was rare to even see you cry outside of a movie theater or without your face being wedged between the pages of a book with some sort of sentimental value, so this was quite emotionally revealing to say the least. 

It must have come as a bit of a shock to your usually more talkative, teasing friend, but if he was startled, he didn’t show it. Kuroo kept a calm demeanor and softened his features after getting a good look at you through the window.

But you remained a safe distance from the car, not yet ready to hop in yet. Because once you did you knew there would be questions.

The bed-headed boy had always been observant, sometimes to the point where you wondered if he had mind-reading abilities. He always noticed your mood changes and quirked expressions even when you were sure you’d hidden them well enough. Whether it was the sparkle of elation in your eye when you’d received a good grade on a project you’d poured your all into or the way your face fell while you crashed onto the couch after a failed date, Kuroo knew each and every look perfectly. Some might wonder why he cared to memorize your expressions and their meanings, but you passed it off as something that all best friends could do.

Either way, the novelty of the situation had him at a loss, so you were sure that the questions would roll once you’d made it back to the quiet of the apartment.

But the problem is... questions mean closeness.

You didn’t quite want to be an open-book with him yet. At least not to the point of spilling your heart out all over him in a messy stream of tears and endless sniffles.

Not when you were balancing your friendship and feelings for him. Not when he made your heart flutter helplessly like that. Not when your living arrangements required a certain level of comfort and freedom from both parties. And definitely not when you’d just been crying over the perpetual state of loneliness you periodically found yourself in.

Because in all honesty, you really liked Kuroo. 

And you had every reason to like him. From the black, rooster hair that you’d ruffle first thing in the morning while he made his espresso. The displeased face he pulled whenever he attempted to drink it without milk and sugar to feel more ‘sophisticated.’ The goofy, jabbing comments that managed to make you laugh after an achingly long day… 

And those small, seemingly innocent touches. The ones that sent sparks flying within your chest, warming you from the center of your heart all the way up to your burning cheeks. His eyes grew warmer, dare you say affectionate, after seeing your face light up from one of his stupid science puns that other friends of his would simply sigh at. It had your heart on overdrive.

Feelings could really fuck with this world you two had built together.

It was already hard enough living with him. You were so close, yet still so far from his reach. Your sock clad feet could rest on his lap, but not your head. You could tug at his hair, but you couldn’t tenderly twirl it around. And he could always flirt with you, leaving your skin burning hotter than a midsummer Carolina night, but you wouldn’t let yourself comment back, fearful that your true feelings would come out.

But just like dirty laundry, you were airing yourself out to the world. Or at least to the ebony-haired boy who you considered to be a big part of your world.

You’re not quite sure why you’d called him of all people anyway. You could’ve just as easily texted someone who wouldn’t ask for an explanation. Your tears would’ve probably dried by the time you’d gotten home if you’d chosen to grab an Ub*r. But you knew he would be worried for you, though his sharp eyes hid it so well. 

Underneath all of the wit and humor, those scheming smiles and that fiery determination, Kuroo was softhearted. He would listen, advise, and worst of all… he would understand, which scared you. You had already fallen hard for him and letting him see into that blackhole, that pool of murky, suffocating loneliness, would only make you want to hold him more.

But for him to see right through you, right into your long-suffering feelings for him and for them to not be reciprocated… it would break you. 

“...Hey.” Kuroo’s smile fades, his softened voice pricking at your heart a little.

He sifts through the right words to say. What phrasing would sound the most comforting? What sounded the most natural coming from him? It was like trying to catch a plummeting piece of pottery. Kuroo wanted to break your mental fall and give you something softer to land on. You were all but shattering right in front of him, so he opted for words that soothed. Words he wished he’d heard years ago when he’d been at his lowest point.

“Let’s go home.”

‘Home.’

He said it so steadily. So simply. There was authority in his tone, but it wasn’t sharp. Just sure.

How could one little word give you so much hope? 

‘Home’ meant warmth. It meant safety and security. ‘Home’ was where you could be yourself, take a deep breath, and release whispery secrets out loud without fear of judgement. 

You knew Kuroo meant your apartment when he’d said ‘home’ but you can’t help but think that there was some sentimental value to it.

You gave a sniff followed by a quiet, slightly nasally response, 

“...Yeah. Please.”

You hear the click from him unlocking the car doors and you step in slowly, one foot in, then the next. Your hands, still a little shaky, plopped down on your legs and your eyes glued themselves to the dark, starlit sky through the windshield.

You’re exhausted and you feel a little out of place, but you’re just glad you’re not alone anymore, even if his steady, thoughtful gaze is basically burning a hole in your head right now.

Your breath quietly hitches at the sudden warmth seeping into your exposed skin.

He had rested a hand on your knee, a concerned look decorating his features, and begun stroking it slowly with his thumb. His methodical movements intended to soothe an already very fragile person.

Kuroo had only touched you like this once before. At a time when your eyes were frantic and your heart, pacing with worry. You had been drowning in finals papers and your mind threatened to go into an anxious spiral. Yet somehow, his touch, his selective words, and his offer to help you out had kept you afloat. Thanks to Kuroo, you managed to keep from breaking down then.

This time however, he was a bit too late.

But he kept drawing little circles, analyzing a new, yet strangely familiar face. An expression you hadn’t personally worn before, but that he’d seen somewhere in the past.

You feared that if he kept staring, the tears would start to fall all over again, his touch only reminding you of just how lonely you really were. So close to him, yet so far.

“Can we just go?” You plead, voice at a whisper.

And as you glance over to him, he can tell that there’s something you want to say, but you can’t quite put it into words. At least not right at this moment.

“Yeah, sorry, I was just thinking…” Kuroo’s voice is low. He nods, but doesn’t quite finish his thought.

It would be better to get you home first before asking about anything. Otherwise you might shut down on him entirely. Whether or not you realized it, Kuroo was well aware of your tendency to avoid these more ‘personal topics.’ When something got too close to home, you were suddenly tired and needed to catch some extra Z’s. When he got a bit flirty, suddenly your phone became incredibly interesting. And any time he caught you close to tears, you would play it off as though it were nothing you couldn’t handle on your own.

But you aren’t nothing to Kuroo.

So far from it, actually.

You were as close to ‘home’ as he’d ever gotten. 

Without having much close family, home was more of a physical destination to Kuroo. A structure with a solid door and a bed to crawl into. Where he could study in peace and quiet...

But there was always an emptiness deeply set within that silence.

It was impersonal at best. At worst, the space was frigid and lifeless. The iciness of the house took a toll on him, resulting in an anxious, quiet child. One who could hardly speak to friends and couldn’t look an adult in the eye.

Only when he’d met Kenma, when he had finally discovered a place where warmth overcame the bitter tundra of loneliness, did Kuroo understand what ‘home’ was supposed to be like.

‘Home’ was always welcoming. 

It was birthdays with cake and ice cream. It became multiplayer video games and frustrated sighs or bickering after a shitty round of Mario Kart. It turned into short jaunts with friends to a local 7/11 where one could spend way too much money on a basket full of snacks. It was locking eyes with you for the first time after agreeing to room with a stranger at university. It was finding out that you two shared classes and could walk together every morning. ‘Home’ was found within the conversations that bloomed like a bright, young flower from your many hours willingly spent together over the next couple of years.

And in time, you two learned each other's patterns, quirks, and minds, thus growing increasingly comfortable in the other’s presence.

‘Home,’ in its truest form, is a beautiful thing and you wore it radiantly. To the point that Kuroo had caught his own fluttering feelings for you over the years, but even his best efforts to tell you were thwarted by your little diversions.

But that didn’t matter right now. Kuroo had finally gotten you two pulled into the parking lot after a painfully quiet drive home, so he needed to focus on getting you inside and comfortable.

“Just sit there, I’ll get your door.” Kuroo directed gently.

You nod, staying in place because you really didn’t have the energy to argue with him right now.

He tugs at the door handle and before you can blink, he’s got your arm looped around his. Something he only did teasingly in the past, usually resulting in you shoving him playfully away from you. You can’t bring yourself to push him off of you and, even though you’re already warm from the heat that’s spreading to your face, you find yourself leaning into his side.

Kuroo is comfortingly warm, you note. The way he tugs you closer has you mentally tripping over yourself. You can feel the heat from his forearm radiating through your thin, long-sleeved shirt as he walks you up the stairs and towards the apartment door.

The echo of your footsteps end as you two enter the flat and, knowing that there’s a lot to talk about, you opt to grab a fuzzy blanket from the basket beside the couch and prop yourself up on a barstool at the small kitchen island.

“You want some tea?” Kuroo turns his head to check with you, his hands already busy at work getting the water boiling for his own mug.

“Yeah, something with ginger in it maybe?” You mumble out, sniffling again.

“Already got it.” He shoots you a small smile, flashing you the tea packet wedged between his index and his thumb.

He knew you pretty damn well, you guessed.

“So y/n… you wanna tell me what happened tonight?”

Kuroo’s words are prompting, but you assume he’s already got some ideas of his own.

“Would you hate me if I said no?” You let a shy, humorous smile peek through your otherwise exhausted face.

“Y/n…” Kuroo sighs, running a hand through his hair and leaning back against the countertop opposite to your seat at the kitchen island.

He’s trying his hardest to maintain some level of calm, but the fact that you won’t tell him has him even more frustrated. You had every right to keep your business to yourself… but you looked like you were dying to tell him something.

Kuroo opens his mouth again, his brow creasing when you don’t answer, but you don’t let him get another word in.

“I-- I’m just not really sure where to start.” Your eyes grow a little hazy as you begin to decipher your feelings again. You let your elbows rest on the countertop, but use your hands to prop up your chin, glancing from Kuroo’s golden irises to the steaming water on the stove.

“You can start wherever.” Kuroo answers easily, his head tilting a little.

“It may take awhile to explain…” You press, both warning him and buying yourself some time.

“I’ve got all night, sweetheart.” He quips back, unfazed by your attempts at stalling.

He turns to pour the hot water into two mugs, tea bags already resting at the bottom of the cups. Kuroo turns back, grasping both mugs and setting both on the island, only to realize that your face has changed once again.

You’re anxious. Unsure. He can see it in the way you’re studying him, trying to gage his potential reaction to what you’re about to say. And unfortunately, Kuroo recognized the look faraway in your eyes. A blank, helpless stare that he himself had once wore when the sharp fangs of loneliness had once latched onto him.

So he takes a few steps toward your side of the kitchen, sets the mugs aside, and leans his forearms on the counter. Kuroo meets your eyes at a much closer range. Your arms fold into your chest in an odd, physical attempt to hold in a breath because his face is so close to yours now.

“Look…” He huffs out, “You really don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to, but I need you to know,”

He lifts a hand out and tilts your chin up, leaving you dumbfounded by the confidence in his reassuring touch.

“You can tell me anything, okay? I’ll always be right here.”

He’d managed to, once again, send you into a state of complete, baffling security. It might’ve helped that, even bent over the counter, his towering figure and stronger build allowed you to feel just as protected outside as you did in. Not only were the butterflies in your stomach acting up again and the burn in your cheeks back with a vengeance, but a wave of bravery flowed into you.

And that word flickers through your mind like a firefly.

‘Home.’

And ‘home’ meant safety. And safety meant you could speak freely.

So you do.

“It’s just… I haven’t been doing too well lately.” You blink at him, words frank to the point that they’re almost hilarious.

He blinks back… and then a milder version of that cheeky grin is back, followed by, “Well, I think I could glean at least that much.”

Kuroo’s fingers fall from your face, but he doesn’t break eye-contact except to snag a chair. He sits right across from you, resting his cheek in his palm. Partly to cover up the tint spreading across his cheeks, partly to fix his full attention on you.

You give him a weak but real smile and slouch into your chair, letting your tight shoulders loosen up a little bit.

“Give me a break okay?” You flick his forehead and he bites his lip, but it still remains in that lopsided smile.

However, your smile fades as his own face grows a little more serious, drawing the both of you back to the topic at hand.

“Kuroo, I’ve just been really... lonely.” You let out, voice small and soft compared to the teasing tone you’d carried seconds ago. “Like there’s this weight, this pressure inside of my chest and it just won’t lift no matter what I try, y’know? But today...”

You huff, letting out a deep sigh, “I think I finally hit some sort of breaking point.”

“I mean, saying that out loud feels really dramatic, but I think that’s all I can equate it to? And I guess it just came out in tears...” You express, looking down at your hands and messing with your own fingers. You felt silly. Like you’d built everything up only for it to sound like a stupid little problem.

But Kuroo’s face convinced you that he was taking every word seriously. That every little phrase mattered.

“Okay…” Kuroo processes, scanning your face and glancing down at your hands.

“So then why didn’t you say anything before?”

Well… that’s a pretty fair question, you think to yourself.

Because being real with someone meant being vulnerable? Because ridding yourself of loneliness meant putting your secrets and feelings out there in the open? Because it meant that closeness and proximity would change with whoever you shared your thoughts with? And because, specifically with Kuroo, you fear that the attachment would be too much for you to handle? All of these were the truth.

It’s hard to pick one answer, so you choose something simpler.

“I… was scared.” You admit, looking away from his gaze.

“Have you always felt this way?” His question at first sounds straightforward, but there’s a somber twinge to his voice.

“...Even around me?” And there’s the pause. Your words had definitely stung.

“I- Kuroo, that’s not fair…” You catch yourself speaking faster than you can think. 

“You know you’re the only…” The answer is almost honest, nearly the truth… but the words catch in your throat as you realize what you’re saying. 

“I- I mean… not around you,” You stutter out, hands actually making their way to your face this time. “What am I saying…”

You’d started this night crying hurt-heavy tears from not being able to open up to anyone... And now you’ve been reduced to this flustered, hot mess in a matter of hours? Who even were you today?

“You were saying that, ‘I’m the only… ?’” Kuroo tilts his head once again, this time in confusion.

There’s a flash of panic in your eyes. But not out of fear. It’s out of… embarrassment?

Then a lightbulb goes off and Kuroo’s eyes widen slightly in a slow realization. The puzzles pieces had finally clicked together, one by one.

You were both so close. So close to touching. So close to being something more all the time… but never close enough to tell him how you really felt. About him and about how much things, to put it lightly, sucked for you right now. And you’d pushed it to be that way. You’d purposefully kept yourself away because openness hurts. At some point in time, you had somehow convinced yourself that being vulnerable on purpose was far more painful than suffering in silence.

And you can tell that Kuroo has caught on. But not because he’s grinning nor because he’s said anything to make you think so. No, it’s those eyes again.

He’s giving you that softened look again.

The one that could convince you that maybe there was more to this ‘friendship’ than what you were allowing yourself to admit. A look that reminded you of ‘home’ more than any other person, city, or beautiful, sturdy building could.

And, once more, Kuroo’s touch surprises you. A hand found its way to your own, grasping it firmly, the confidence in his outreach creating a deep contrast to the uncharacteristic, shy pink painting his cheeks.

“Kuroo-”

“Can I be completely honest with you?” He cuts you off, eyes fixed on your hands locked within his own.

“Well, it wouldn’t be like you to be anything else, would it?” You manage to stammer out, nerves reaching your voice.

“You’re not wrong.” Kuroo hums, rubbing your hand with his thumb.

“But I think now is a good time to say that I never want you to feel alone.” He starts, “I never want you to feel lonely like that because you’ve always made me feel so… at home.”

That word again.

“Like I couldn’t be lonely even if everyone I knew left me. Because at least I’d have you, y/n.” And if your heart wasn’t already racing furiously, it’s now beating loudly enough that you would be surprised if he couldn’t hear it.

“Well, I mean if Kenma ditched me, that would suck and I’d probably be miserable for awhile, but that’s beside the point.” His lip twitches into a quick smile, lightening the mood.

“What I’m trying to say is that I- I like you. And, I think you might like me too…” He searches your gaze for some sort of confirmation.

“But whatever you feel towards me, I never want you to handle loneliness by yourself.”

“You’ll always have me. Whenever you need me. You’re home to me, y/n. I don’t say that lightly.”

He goes to release your hand, but you quickly tangle your digits with his, earning yourself a quick glance from his usually less revealing eyes.

“You’re home to me too.”

Your voice is small. The phrase comes out quickly. The emotion is heavily emphasized in that word ‘home’ again… but you mean it with every ounce of your being.

And looking into his eyes, you’re being affirmed by his knowing presence. That adoring look that’s reserved just for you, on full display. Absolute affection seeping through the gentle break of his smile.

“And I might like you too… just a little.” You break into your own small smile, reaching with the other hand to brush his messy hair away from his eyes.

And you’re shocked by the simplicity of your actions. Surprised by the sudden freedom you’ve given your hands.

Because now he’s close enough.

Close enough to card your fingers through his hair as tenderly as you pleased. Close enough to grab hold of him in a long, hopeful hug when the nights get cold or as dreams go sour. Close enough for his warmth to melt away the iciness of those lonesome feelings.

And best of all… Kuroo was finally close enough to call ‘home.’

---

Do Not Repost

tags: @cherryonigiri, @yams046, @miss-rin, @shou-kunn, @senkuwu-chan, @super-noya, @stcrryskies, @holaaaf, @sugacookiies, @vintgicals, @moonlightaangel, @kit-tea, @theworldupthere, @sugasugawarau, @randomesk-yuku, @ideshine, @macaronnv, @anseoo, @aprettyfruit, @bloom-uwu, @spikertrash, @bbakougo

(comment, dm, or send an ask to be added to my general tag list - blogs in bold could not be tagged)

[miracleonice87]

Begin Again

a Mathew Barzal song fic

a/n: a one shot based on “Begin Again” by Taylor Swift. obviously I don’t own any of Taylor Swift’s music/lyrics! I’m not even a big Swiftie anymore (edited: lol dying bc I wrote that before she released folklore and evermore and sucked me RIGHT back in) but I love her “Red” album and always listen to it in the fall. also, the NYC traffic/parking/location situation in this is purely fantasy BS, lol.

summary: Mat Barzal meets Hayden Parker (fictional) in a coffee shop, and they start something new.

warnings: swearing. talk of a concussion/migraines/weight loss — otherwise, complete and total fluff.

______

With a deep breath, you glanced at your reflection in the mirror hanging near your front door before you left your Brooklyn apartment. You hadn’t worn these heels for several seasons now — he hadn’t liked it when you wore high heels. You had let his opinions — on your clothes, shoes, music, books, movies, and friends — dictate how you lived for too long. You smirked now, admiring how the pointed-toe snakeskin stilettos looked paired with your raw cut black jeans and silky pink blouse. He would’ve hated this look (“too gaudy,” he would have said), which made you love it that much more.

You popped in one AirPod and flipped the inside lock on your door before pulling it closed. You made your way down the hall as the lyrics started to flow.

There is a young cowboy, he lives on the range

His horse and his cattle are his only companions...

You fought the urge to roll your eyes thinking about your former flame’s constant unwarranted comments about this classic ballad which often wafted through your apartment from the record player in the living room.

“I don’t get this song — like, is he singing to himself?” he would ask. You never bothered to tell him the real background and meaning — you loved the song, and you got it. You always had.

Emerging from the main entrance of your building, you hummed along to melodies from your favorite playlist, and walked the three or so blocks to your destination. Soon, you were stepping in from the bustle of the street to find solace in an only-slightly less busy coffee shop, one you had come to frequent because of its location — sandwiched within the six blocks between your apartment and the fashion magazine where you were interning this semester.

“Hi, one large double shot mocha, please?” you requested, stepping up after the man in front of you paid for his order. You tapped your AirPod to pause your music, just in time to hear: “Nice shoes.”

You lifted your head and glanced toward the pick-up section of the counter, where a classically handsome man in his twenties stood donning a well-tailored navy blue suit. Your heart lurched in your chest as you realized he was looking straight at you.

“Me?” you inquired softly, just to be sure, as you slipped your bank card back into your wallet. He nodded, smiling. “Yes, you. Nice shoes.”

You bit your lip involuntarily, slowly walking his way to wait on your coffee. “Thanks. You’ve got nice style yourself,” you complimented, and you were surprised by your own boldness in that moment. Something about his confidence made you confident, too. And something about his model good looks seemed unsettlingly familiar somehow.

He extended his hand as you took your position next to him. “I’m Mat,” he greeted. You couldn’t help but smile, nearly breathless from his innate charm.

“Hi, Mat,” you replied, engaging his handshake. “I’m Hayden.”

“Hayden. Pretty name for a pretty girl,” Mat mused, holding onto your hand for just a moment longer than was customary. You knew it was silly — God, was it silly — but you felt yourself blush at his flattery.

“Large Americano,” a barista called out. Mat stepped forward, thanking her and stuffing a bill — you couldn’t help but notice that it was a large one — into the tip jar atop the glass pastry display. He turned back to you as he unfastened the lid and blew gently on his coffee. Another thing you couldn’t help but notice — his perfect pink lips.

“So, Hayden, are you a native New Yorker?”

Hmm, you thought. Why isn’t he running for the door after getting his drink? You decided to play along, feeling more daring than you had in ages.

“I am not,” you confessed. “I’m from Maine, actually.”

“Ah, still an East Coast girl,” Mat remarked with a grin. “I’m from the West — near Vancouver.”

You arched your brows. “Wow, Canadian, huh?” Mat chuckled.

“Born and raised. You know what they say, though: opposites attract,” he commented, hazel eyes piercing into you even as he took a cautious sip from his cup. You studied his face — he seemed more familiar with each word he spoke.

“They do say that, don’t they?” you retorted, skirting his inference. Just then, the barista set your mocha on the counter.

“Thank you so much,” you said, also pushing a tip into the jar, thankful that Mat’s attention was on grabbing a cup sleeve from the island nearby instead of on the much smaller bills you had to offer the staff.

You turned toward the island, too, reaching for the cinnamon. Mat offered you a sleeve as if it was second nature, and you graciously accepted, trying to relax the muscles on your face that seemed to have permanently turned upward into a smile since you’d been in the man’s presence.

Suddenly, you gasped.

“Islanders,” you whispered under your breath as Mat watched you stir your cinnamon into your drink. He froze.

“What?” he asked with a nervous laugh, wondering if he had heard you correctly. Your eyes darted around, making sure no one within earshot was paying attention.

“You play for the Islanders. Right?” you asked softly. He nodded, silent, ducking his head a bit; you began to backpedal.

“Oh, God... I didn’t mean - I, uh... I promise I’m not like a hockey fangirl, or anything,” you choked out, cheeks flushed. Your hands started to shake slightly as you replaced the lid on your to-go cup. “I just, uh, my brother. My brother played hockey. He always talked about you, and, uh, I just realized that that’s why I recognized you.” You winced.

“This... this isn’t as weird as it sounds, I swear,” you insisted. “It’s just that, my brother played in the Q. He was good, and, uh, I knew about all the other good hockey players, because of him.”

Mat’s demeanor had quickly changed — from slightly uncomfortable to giddy. He was smirking at you while you sputtered, taking a sort of masochistic pleasure in watching you squirm. His grin was infectious.

“What’s your last name?” he asked when you finally stopped talking. “Parker,” you responded, the two of you stepping away from the island and taking up residence near the front windows of the cafe.

“Parker... Parker,” he repeated. You were distracted by how good your name sounded falling from his tongue. Then, he gasped, too.

“Oh shit, your brother’s Nick Parker? Damn, how’s he doing?”

Your brow quirked as you watched the light flicker on in his eyes when he pieced it together. A National Hockey League star recognized your brother’s name, your name. What the hell was happening?

You cleared your throat, attempting to come back into orbit. “Uh, yeah, he’s good now. He, uh... it was a battle there for a couple years. He had migraines every day for about 16 months... lost a lot of weight. It was... it was tough,” you told him, your voice lowering noticeably. Mat watched you carefully, concern written all over his striking features. It was evident that Mat knew your brother’s story.

Your older brother Nick had been a top 20 prospect in the Quebec Major Junior Hockey League as a teen, playing forward for the Halifax Mooseheads. But after a nasty late hit during a playoff game, he had been left with a debilitating concussion and, after a long period of unsuccessful rehab, had been forced to walk away from the game just as he was entering his prime.

Those troubling days hung like a thick, black fog over your family’s history, and you suddenly recalled being 15 again, cross-legged outside Nick’s bedroom door for hours, begging him to let you into the dark room to hold onto him as he cried, both because of the pain and because of the weight of his unrealized dreams. It had taken countless neurologist appointments, physical therapy, and your parents’ unwavering insistence that he regularly see a sports psychologist for him to return to some semblance of normalcy after a long road to recovery.

Now, minus the occasional treatable migraine, Nick was thriving. You beamed at the thought, your well-polished black nail picking at the corner of the cup sleeve on your mocha as you looked back to Mat and continued.

“But he’s finishing law school now, seeing a therapist and keeps himself in great shape, which helps. He’s getting married next summer to this great girl,” you finished, pride swelling in your chest at how far your brother had come. Mat’s eyebrows lifted, his worried expression morphing into elation.

“No shit!” he exclaimed. “Damn, I’m so happy for him. Tell you what, lotta guys wanted nothing to do with him when he was tearing it up. And we were all gutted for him after it happened.” You gave him a grateful smile.

“Thanks,” you said softly. “I’ll have to let him know you said that.” Mat nodded, then pressed on. “Maybe I’ll get the chance to tell him myself one day,” he added brazenly, casually taking another sip.

No response came to your brain, so you curled your fingers around your own cup and took a long draw, eyes darting to the activity outside the window, Mat’s never leaving your unsure face.

The church bells chiming from a nearby steeple were the only thing that could pull Mat’s gaze from you, as he checked his large-face Rolex. He seemed angered by the time staring back at him, and he ran his hand aggressively through his hair as his eyes rolled just slightly.

“Listen, Hayden, I hate to do this,” Mat began with a sigh. “But we’ve got a game in Pittsburgh tomorrow night, and the team plane leaves in like half an hour.”

You’re surprised by how deflated you feel in that instant, casting a downward glance at the shoes Mat had complimented only minutes ago, before you’d started feeling like maybe you’d known him your whole life.

A quiet, “Oh,” was all you could muster, still not meeting his eyes.

His hand then came to rest on your upper arm, and it’s only then that you noticed how big it was, long fingers curling easily around your bicep.

“But hey... I’ll be back late tomorrow night. Whaddya say we grab coffee here the next morning? Wednesday. Maybe 8?”

You turned your eyes upward to take in his face. He looked hopeful. He was hopeful that he’d see you again.

You nodded. “I’d love to, Mat. I’ll meet you here.”

Mat beamed, a relieved breath falling from his lips. “Good,” he commented. “I’ll see you then.” He leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss to your cheek, leaving you reeling when he pulled away.

“Bye, pretty Hayden,” Mat said with a wink before turning and exiting the coffee shop, walking down the block to the Cadillac he’d just unlocked. He was still in sight when he glanced over his shoulder and threw you another breathtaking grin. You smiled back, frozen in place as you watched him drive away.

_____

Mat was going to be late.

At least, that’s what you had convinced yourself at some point within the last 48 hours.

He was either going to be late or he was going to stand you up altogether. So even though you woke up at 5:30 and initially felt the need to rush through your routine to get down to the coffee shop as quickly as possible, you didn’t. You forced yourself to slow down. Because Mat was going to be late. Or, he wasn’t going to be there at all.

So you were surprised when, after throwing on a red chiffon dress with tiny white flowers and a cognac leather jacket, you walked through the coffee shop door at 8:02 and heard, “Hayden!”

Your head snapped up.

At a corner table in the back of the shop was Mat, dressed in a smart grey sweater and distressed black jeans, a silver chain looped around his neck, standing to wave you over with a broad smile across his face.

He came. And he’d arrived before you did.

You walked over to Mat and he embraced you warmly, the two of you exchanging kisses on the cheek. He squeezed your elbow affectionately as you stepped back from him.

“Oh, here. Let me,” Mat said as he pulled your chair out and motioned for you to sit.

“Thank you,” you said quietly, his chivalry catching you by surprise. Once you were seated, he pushed your chair in slightly before taking his place across the table from you.

“I got you a mocha,” he told you, nodding at the cup in front of you. “Double shot, right?”

You nodded. “You’re sweet. Thank you,” you said, the two of you beaming at each other for a moment, lost in a daze.

“So how was the game?” you inquired, pulling you both back to earth. Mat cleared his throat before answering you.

“It was good! We won. It’s usually a tough battle with them but we kinda dominated, which was nice for a change,” he spoke, looking pleased.

“You score?” you asked teasingly as you sipped from your cup.

“Uh, yeah, actually,” he told you with a nervous chuckle, scratching the back of his head. “Two goals and an assist.”

Your eyebrows lifted on your forehead. “Mat, that’s amazing! So my brother was right. You are good.”

Mat shook his head, trying to shrug you off.

“Ah, nah. I kinda think it had more to do with a good luck charm I met this week,” he remarked slyly. You licked your bottom lip before biting on it gently. Mat took notice, mirroring your motions as he stared at your lips.

“So, how’s work been this week?” It was Mat’s turn to deflect.

You told him how hectic it had been, with you arriving at the office around 9 and leaving at 6 on the day you’d first met, then departing after 7 yesterday, despite it being only a part-time internship in addition to the five classes you were taking online. He asked about your combination of on-campus and online learning throughout your college career in order to accommodate your dream internships, and he was already in awe of what a hard worker you were.

You pointed out that you weren’t the only one at the table with a crazy schedule, and you asked him how he balanced hockey with his personal life. He answered you easily, launching into stories about his teammates and his family and his friends who all kept him grounded in different ways. There was one name he kept bringing up — Tito. He told you that you’d have to meet him. Before you could hesitate, you said you’d like to. His visage brightened at that answer. He reminded you of sunshine.

He continued to regale you with a vast array of stories, stopping often to ask you questions and invite you to tell him stories of your own. It took a bit of time, but soon you were opening up about your own life — your parents’ recent and shocking divorce after 30 years of marriage, and your struggle with your grandmother’s death last fall.

It wasn’t all dark, though. In fact, most of it wasn’t. You also told him about the crazy theater actor roommate you’d had when you first moved into the city to study fashion at NYU, and how her frightening antics had eventually pushed you into accepting your uncle’s offer to pay for your own apartment in the city, as he was single and childless and had always delighted in spoiling you and your brother. You told him about your only two cousins on your dad’s side, two siblings bracketing you and your brother in age, and how the four of you were more like siblings than cousins. You told a slightly off-color joke at your own expense that most of your friends and coworkers would never laugh at, but it left Mat breathless, throwing his head back with boyish giggles flowing from his mouth like your favorite song. This caught you off-guard — you couldn’t believe he actually seemed to think you were funny. The last one certainly never did.

At some point, the conversation shifted to music. Mat’s jaw dropped when you told him that you own every James Taylor album on vinyl, after he told you that that’s one of his favorite artists of all time. He said he’s never met anyone who has as many James Taylor records as you. You simply shrugged. You explained that you and your mom have seen every tour James Taylor has been on since you were eleven and had started playing guitar. Mat’s eyes went wide — he told you that he dabbles in guitar, too.

After this, you quieted a bit. He noticed. It comes off to him as shyness, but you know what it really is. It’s fear. All at once you realize just how far you’ve let your guard down with this stranger. You’ve only just met this person, yet you have more in common with him than anyone you’ve encountered since moving into the city.

He sensed that something was off, so, in the silence, he reached a hand across the table and took yours in his grasp, stroking the back of it with his thumb. You looked into his mesmerizing eyes, and your hesitance melted.

After several more minutes of easy conversation, you check the time. You need to be at work in ten minutes.

“I’m sorry to be the one to break this up this time,” you started, and Mat sat back, looking understanding though disappointed. “But I’ve gotta get to work. Thankfully, it’s just right down the street.”

“Let me walk you,” Mat quickly insisted. You smirked at him, digging in your purse to find your office key.

“Didn’t you drive here?” you asked, chuckling. He simply shrugged. “Yeah, but if pretty Hayden works just down the street, I might as well walk her to the office and spend a few extra minutes with her,” he told you with a smug grin. You felt your cheeks get hot.

“Sounds good to me,” you admitted quietly. Mat nodded, then rose from his chair, reaching for his wallet to leave another tip.

“Thank you,” you said, putting your hand on his forearm tenderly. “For the coffee. For this.”

He smiled down at you. “You’re welcome,” he replied.

The two of you walked out the cafe door, which Mat pushed open even from behind you. You pointed in the direction of your office building and the two of you fell into step, side by side. Your heart leapt when Mat reaches for your hand. It felt unbelievably natural — which terrified you.

Your recent relationship history flashed through your brain all at once, like a film reel. Your brain screamed, “Slow down!” while your heart whispered, “Relax.” You weren’t sure which to believe. You opened your mouth to bring him up, to give a fair warning, to tell Mat that you might not be ready for... whatever this was.

Then, he started to talk about the movies that his family watches every single Christmas. You weren’t at all sure what had brought that subject to his mind — maybe your earlier questions about his younger sister back in Coquitlam — but you’re grateful for the diversion from your own messy mind. You decided to engage him on that topic instead, rather than bring up your last boyfriend who’d shattered you then walked away.

And for the first time in eight months, you decided to leave what’s past, in the past.

Like a pinball machine, Mat had already bounced to yet another new topic — his practice later this morning. As he finished a story about pranking Tito in the locker room after a skate last week, you bubbled over with giggles. He watched you with admiration and wonder coursing through his entire being. You eventually observed how he was gazing at you, and you sensed that he had something more important to say than his joke on his teammate.

“Hey, so, uh,” Mat started, clearing his throat. Your suspicion had been correct. “What are you doing tomorrow night, after work? We have a home game tomorrow at 7:30 and I, uh, I wanted to see if maybe... you wanted to go? I requested a ticket for you... just in case you want it. If you do... I was thinking maybe we could grab dinner after?”

The sentences Mat spoke seemed to be rolled into one giant question mark. His unwavering self-assurance had seemed to falter slightly for the first time since you’d met him, surprising you. You only needed a moment to consider your answer.

“I’d love to come watch you play,” you told him, wrapping your hands around his upper arm affectionately. You watched him exhale, a smile slowly overtaking his face.

“Thank God,” Mat breathed, making you both burst into hysterics as he leaned his head down to touch yours for a moment.

Bewilderment overcame you as you realized that you hadn’t felt this way about anyone in... you couldn’t even remember how long. You’d thought it might never happen again. That for you, this feeling might just be... gone.

You couldn’t believe that on a Wednesday, in a cafe, you’d watched it begin again.

[dragonologist-in-the-making]

A Second Chance at Love

Pairing: Sirius x reader

Request: Can you do an older Sirius x reader, (she's in her 20s) and they're both in the order and he starts to fall in love with her?she's a badass but also quiet and a sweetheart and brings him so much peace bc older sirius deserves happiness🙄

 Hi! I’m sorry if it sounds weird, but I’m honestly in love with this idea! Sirius and the reader have been together for like two years while at Hogwarts and then they broke up and started hating each other. They both join the Order and they have to go on a mission together and it’s like really dangerous. They have to fight Death Eaters and she jumps in front of him to protect him and she gets hurt and they make up, please? I love lovers to enemies to lovers so much!! Thank you, lovely!! (by @i-padfootblack-things)

 A/N: Hope you don’t mind that I put these together! I spent sooo long writing this, hopefully it’s actually good haha (pls feedback is very welcome). Thank you for the two requests, this was my first time writing for older Sirius and I hope it went well!! Also, what was the Headquarters in the marauders era? Was there one? Was it Grimmauld place?

Wordcount: 2.4K

The atmosphere in the room was extremely tense, not a breath to be heard as the two old lovers glared at each other across the table. Nobody spoke, wary of what the outcome would be.

Finally, she broke it, pushing herself back from the table with a sigh and a shake of her head. “I’m not doing it.” She insisted, and with that the silence snapped, and shouts echoed around the room.

“Y/N you’re the best two people for the job, you have to!” Lily called at her.

“We can’t be the best two people, we don’t work well together.” She insisted, feeling the anger bubble up at her that someone even suggested she work with him.

“You always used to work flawlessly together.” She pointed out, a defiant look in her bright green eyes.

“Yeah, well, we used to love each other.” Sirius spoke up, the first time he had since Dumbledore had given them both the mission. “Now I think we’re in the exact opposite mindset.”

y/n felt a slight stinging at his words. Did they hate each other? She didn’t think so. Sure, she was uncomfortable when they were alone in a room together, and she found herself rolling her eyes at almost everything he said. But, she still looked for him first when she walked in a room, she listened out for what he was saying, and then agreed with the opposite, no matter what it was just to gain his attention. No, she didn’t think she hated him at all, the animosity she had felt towards him had faded into a mild tolerance, even if he clearly didn’t feel the same about her.

She sat back down in her seat, covering her face with her hand and sighing as everyone else went quiet. She peeked out from behind her hand at Dumbledore, who had remained perfectly silent and perfectly calm throughout the whole exchange, even seeming slightly bemused.

“There’s no other way?” She asked quietly, knowing his answer and wishing it could be something else.

“As I said, you two will be going on this mission together. It shouldn’t be a long one, or too difficult, if that puts your minds at ease.”

“Trust me, I’m going to be doing everything I can to make this as short as possible.”

…

She walked into Grimmauld Place, the soft leather jacket on her arms protecting her from the permanent cold of the house. She walked through the hallway into the kitchen, where Sirius was sat, looking at a small piece of parchment.

He was wearing his old leather jacket, too, the one that he’d been wearing since their days at Hogwarts, the one he would drape over her shoulders when she got cold on their midnight walks, just the two of them. It hung looser on him now, she noticed, likely because he didn’t have a whole kitchen of house elves making him three hearty meals a day, but one house elf, who didn’t much care to give his master anything at all.

“Hey.” She spoke softly, announcing her entrance. “You ready to go?” he nodded, standing up from the table and waving the parchment in his hand.

“This is the address for where to apparate.” He told her, and she nodded, looking over at the paper and seeing an address she didn’t recognise at all. For ten galleons she wouldn’t even have been able to say where in the country it was. Sirius noticed and gave the smallest of sighs, holding his elbow out begrudgingly, offering it to her.

She took it, holding onto the material of the jacket rather than his arm underneath it, closing her eyes as she felt the familiar squeezing sensation of apparition. She opened her eyes again when she felt her feet land on solid ground, jarring her knees slightly, and quickly let go of Sirius’ arm, looking around at the street they were on. She didn’t get to look at the surroundings for long, however, as they heard footsteps approaching and quickly had to dive into a dark alley to the side, hiding themselves from view.

The footsteps grew louder, and voices began to float with them. Sirius looked at y/n, rolling his eyes at the familiar voices from their ex-fellow students. As she heard them speak, she began to pick up on who was there. She could hear Nott and Avery, talking loudly, almost asking to be heard, immediately making her suspicious. She grew even more suspicious at the next voice, but she didn’t have time to voice any of this to Sirius.

“Now that we’ve taken care of that idiot Potter and his precious girlfriend, we can track down Lupin easily enough. Yes, I think we’re making our way through this precious Order quite nicely.” She knew as soon as she heard Bellatrix, and as soon as there was a threat of his friends being hurt, Sirius would be impervious to all reason. She didn’t even get to try, however, he was storming out of the alley to confront them before she had even turned to him, and she scrambled to follow, cursing under her breath at how this was supposed to be an easy, non-combative, mission.

“Stupefy!” He screamed as he burst from the alley, aiming the spell at his cousin who was clearly expecting it, shielding it easily as the horror dawned on the two of them that they had walked straight into a trap, and they were hugely outnumbered.

Numerous curses were immediately fired at y/n and Sirius, and they immediately sprang back to back, shielding them and firing as many as they could in the spare seconds they had.

“I swear to god, Black.” She grunted, throwing up another shield to protect from a curse Dolohov had thrown at her. “You just had to storm out here. Petrificus Totalus!” She allowed herself a brief smile as someone – she didn’t pause to see who – fell down, before another hex was aimed at her and she refocused.

“I’d like to see you sit there and listen about how your best friends have been murdered.” He returned, a sweat breaking out on his forehead from the fight. Although, there were less and less curses being aimed at the both of you, slowly making your progress through the Death Eaters.

“I did, Sirius. They’re my friends too. And they must have known we were coming, they clearly said that just to draw us out.” She saw him turn towards her out of the corner of her eye, saw how he wasn’t paying attention to anyone else around them, even for this briefest of seconds, and saw the red light flashing towards him, heard the accompanying curse, and knew there was no way Sirius could deflect it in time. Instinct made her push him to the side, self-preservation non-existent, as the curse hit her instead, and pain exploded through her whole body.

She felt pain like nothing had ever hurt her before, fresh waves of it rolling through her body and a blood-curdling scream tore itself from her throat to accompany it. All she knew was the debilitating pain, and then blackness.

Her eyes fluttered open, and she was greeted with the view of a dark ceiling, one which could be cleaner, and the faint smell of damp. So, she was back in Grimmauld Place. She pushed herself up, the blanket which had been gently laid over her falling slightly, and saw there was one other person in the room with her, whose long hair was falling in his face, but who looked relieved to see her, for the first time in years.

“You’re awake.” He said, as he stood up and walked to the couch where she was led. She pulled her legs up, creating a space for him to sit in, which he did. “Kind of wish I wasn’t.” She joked, chuckling dryly as she felt the ache in her bones, the remembrance of pain.

“Why did you do it?” He asked, and she knew this was the reason he had been waiting for her. The curiosity burned in his words. “Why did you take an Unforgivable Curse for me?”

“Don’t let your ego inflate too much, I didn’t intend to be in the way too.” She laughed, dropping it quickly as he looked at her. “I don’t want you to be tortured. I haven’t forgotten, you know, what it was like for you to live here, and how hard it must be for you to be back. And even without that, just because we dated once doesn’t mean I want you in pain, now. I still care about you, of course I do.” She spoke quietly, unsure if she was saying too much,

He didn’t answer her, instead he sat there in silence, staring at her. He was looking at her, seeing her in a way that he hadn’t in a long time. He saw the way that her y/h/c hair was falling into her face, and was surprised that she hadn’t tried and failed to brush it away yet, knowing how much it irritated her. He saw how softly her y/e/c looked over him, and he knew that she meant it when she said she never stopped caring. He felt the guilt rise in his chest, though he wasn’t sure what exactly he was guilty for. “I’ll, um, I’ll go tell everyone you’re awake.” And with that, he walked out of the room, his head now swirling confusingly.

Over the next few months, the rest of the Order noticed a dramatic change in the way that y/n and Sirius acted towards each other. When he came back from the store and had brought donuts for everyone, he had one for her, too. Instead of closing the front door loudly and disturbing Walburga’s portrait in the hall, she made a whisper of a sound as she tiptoed through the halls, trying to be as silent as possible. She had begun to frequent the headquarters more, not dashing off as soon as meetings were done or joining Remus when he would pop in for a cup of tea. He had even defended her in an argument, which had ended it quickly, the shock manifesting itself into a silence.

“Come on, y/n, it’s like we’re back at school.” Lily teased as they walked into the – thankfully empty – kitchen. “I thought I was done looking at your sappy eyes for each other.”

“Lily, I do not have sappy eyes.” y/n insisted, sitting on the table and putting her feet on the chair in front of her. “Just because we don’t fight as much anymore doesn’t mean we’re in love with each other.”

“I don’t think you’re in love with each other because you don’t fight.” She rolled her eyes. “I think you’re in love because I watched this happen all those years ago, and I’m watching it happen again now. Sirius talks about you to James, you know.”

“He does?” She started, not expecting that. She couldn’t help being surprised that Sirius was talking about her, and she couldn’t help the butterflies that rose in her stomach as she thought of it. “Aren’t you supposed to be meeting James for lunch?” she reminded Lily, thankful for the excuse to change the topic.

She checked her watch and squeaked, grabbing her bag and running from the house, leaving y/n alone to unpack the shopping and start working on some lunch. She was mid-way through cooking, softly humming a tune to herself to fill the silence, when she heard footsteps heading her way.

“Enough there for two?” she heard his voice before she could see him, but soon his crinkling grey eyes and wide smile were a few metres away from her, leaning against the side.

“Of course.” She answered, smiling back without thinking, quickly turning away as she thought of Lily’s words. “It’s nearly ready.” She finished cooking in silence, Sirius setting the table for the both of them. They sat down, starting to eat, and she didn’t know what to say to him, trying to analyse both of their feelings.

“So, James reckons I’m a teenager again.” Sirius brought up, laughing although he sounded more anxious than happy to her. Her chest constricted, wondering if he’d just been having a similar conversation to her.

“Again? I wasn’t aware that you’d ever grown up.” She teased, but her smile was tight and forced.

“Well, he seems to think that I might be in love, again. With you, again.”

“And what do you think?” She asked, forcing herself to look into his grey eyes, nervous for his answer as the truth dawned on her that she might be about to lose him all over again.

“I think he’s wrong.” And there it was, the blow that seemed to tear her heart in half, for the second time in her life. Before she could come up with some witty retort to play away her pain, he had carried on talking, his gaze still fixed on her. “I don’t think I’m in love again. I think it was easier to hate you than to realise I wasn’t over you, and I didn’t realise that until you took an Unforgivable Curse for me. I’m not in love with you again, because I don’t think I ever stopped.”

She felt like she was about to pass out from the mix of emotions swirling in her head, unable to hold on to one of them for longer than a second. It was decided for her, however, once Sirius’ lips were on hers – how they had gotten there she couldn’t remember – and she felt the pure happiness of love light her up. The kiss was familiar, something she had been missing without knowing, but there was a new edge to it, a resolve to never miss this feeling again. He broke away, settling on his knees between her legs, holding her hands in his, things not changing so much that they didn’t engulf them anymore.

“What do you think?” He mirrored her earlier question, a nervous smile on his face despite it all.

“I think it’s high time that we take James and Lily’s crown and become the best couple.” He laughed, leaning up and pressing a gentle kiss to her lips.

“I couldn’t agree more.”

[bestworstcase]

#I'm so happy to see someone articulate #why Raps pulling rank in RatGT was so damaging and hurtful #b/c I often see that scene framed as a#''she's coming into her authority and role as queen!''#but it never sat right w/ me and I couldn't pin why

so these are some of @pnumbra-rbs​’s tags on this post and while it’s a bit tangential to the point of that post i do have sOmE tHoUgHtS about that framing of the scene in the great tree, bc i also see that take floating around now and then and it always makes me go hrm.

broadly speaking, rapunzel’s character arc in rta does indeed involve coming into her authority. she enters the story as a socially-stunted, naive person struggling to grasp basic social norms like “don’t touch people without permission,” and she exits it as a competent, compassionate ruler who is comfortable and content in her role as the leader of her country.

but narrowing our focus down to just the argument in the great tree, it just... is not correct to say that this is the moment when rapunzel steps into her power or begins to come into her own as a princess and future queen. it is Rapunzel Making A Big Mistake, and the narrative intends for it to be taken as such. 

let’s break this down. first, why is it a mistake? well.

is publicly yelling at a subordinate good leadership? is it a healthy, productive use of authority?

consider the argument in RATGT from this perspective for a moment. strip out all the emotional context surrounding the argument, and at the core of it what we have here is a disagreement over the safety of the group. adira’s position is that the group is exhausted and must rest, regardless of the fact that they are in enemy territory. cassandra’s position is that the great tree is too dangerous to make the benefits of stopping to rest worthwhile, and they must press on until they find a safer location.

both are somewhat valid perspectives. hector is likely to catch up to them regardless of what they do, and it’s better to fight well-rested on chosen ground than to be caught off guard when you’re tired. adira doesn’t spell it out, but her plan is basically to get some rest, then stand and fight at the top of the tree when, not if, hector catches up. meanwhile, cassandra’s plan is to get out of the tree as fast as they can and hope that hector doesn’t catch up with them until after they escape. who’s right? it depends on your estimation of the threats posed by hector and by the great tree itself.

(personally, i’m with cass on this one. a high ledge in enemy territory that has already proven to be very dangerous in its own right is not ground i would ever choose as a battlefield unless i had absolutely no other choice. and while everyone is tired after a long day, i like the benefit-to-risk ratio of taking a few minutes to stretch, drink some water, and eat some food before pressing on a lot better than the benefit-to-risk ratio of stopping here for the night and staking everything on a battle in this location.)

now... cass doesn’t handle herself well in this argument. at all. i think she, unlike the rest of the group, is picking up the subtext of adira’s proposal (that they will fight hector here), but rather than rationally express her concerns, she goes off on a paranoia-fueled rant accusing adira of wanting to get them all killed. she comes off as hysterical and unhinged because she’s speaking out of frustration, stress, and exhaustion. her behavior is absolutely inappropriate. 

for rapunzel, as the leader, what is the correct way to handle this situation? 

good leadership is not just about making choices. it’s not just about the judgment calls. it is about management. which means that as a leader, if a member of your team is having an emotional outburst like cass, you cannot respond in kind. it sucks and it’s kind of unfair, but them’s the breaks.

in this situation, an Ideal Good Leader would a) perceive that this paranoid outburst is coming from a place of real concern, and b) respond to it with the intention of pulling out the underlying meaning. eg: “i see that you’re upset, and i’m trying to understand. what’s going on? / where’s your head at? / where is this coming from?”

in canon, rapunzel’s actual response is “come on, cass, listen to yourself,” which is an invalidating (and somewhat condescending) statement that makes cass feel unheard, so cass gets more upset. the situation escalates. by comparison, Ideal Good Leader’s statement directly acknowledges cassandra’s distress and invites her to explain her reasoning. this would help to lower cassandra’s anxiety (by showing her that her concerns are being heard), which would enable her to better articulate her real point.

thus, the emotional side of the argument is defused, and a productive conversation becomes possible. perhaps a compromise (such as stopping for a few minutes to recharge and have a quick meal) could be reached, or else rapunzel can do her own cost-benefit analysis of adira’s proposal versus cass’s and make a reasoned decision about what they should do. cass feels heard, no one’s feelings get hurt, and rapunzel makes her choice based on what she thinks the safest course of action is, instead of angrily defaulting to the opposite of what cassandra thinks they should do.

and thus, there’s no need for an “i’m going to be queen, i’ll make choices you don’t like, and i need you to be okay with that” conversation—because, in this scenario where rapunzel makes good, healthy use of her authority, cassandra wouldn’t leave this conflict feeling hurt. she isn’t upset, in canon, because raps didn’t do exactly what she said to do; she’s upset because she got shot down pretty brutally and she feels like rapunzel doesn’t value her insight, advice, or judgment. if rapunzel had given her the space to calm down, feel heard, and feel like she was allowed to contribute to the conversation re: what to do, i think cass would’ve truly been okay with whatever rapunzel ultimately decided to do.

but of course, rapunzel isn’t an Ideal Good Leader, she’s rapunzel, and she’s still in a place where she doesn’t grasp the full reality of her own authority, and she’s thinking of cassandra as her friend, not as her subordinate. so she escalates the situation by mistake and we get... what we get, in canon. cass ends up demoralized, their friendship is permanently damaged, and the battle with hector goes predictably badly, with cassandra sustaining a horrific, debilitating injury in the process. (this, btw, is fundamentally why rapunzel is at fault for cassandra’s injury. it’s not about the spear vs incantation decision; it’s about this decision, this disagreement, the way she handles this fight.)

and second... how is this framed by the narrative?

well... our first clear signal that we are not meant to see this as anything but rapunzel making a big mistake is that the show explicitly draws a parallel between her behavior here to gothel’s behavior at the beginning of tangled. in tangled, gothel screams “Enough with the lights, Rapunzel!” with the intention of shutting rapunzel down and browbeating her into submission. in RATGT, rapunzel screams “Enough, Cassandra!” because she’s frustrated and upset and cass is acting irrational—but the emotional effect this has on cassandra is the same as the emotional effect gothel’s calculated outburst had on rapunzel in tangled. it’s an abuse of authority in both cases. 

and on top of that, look at how the group reacts—not to cassandra’s outburst, but to rapunzel’s: 

they’re all shocked, unhappy, and uncomfortable, because this is... a shocking, upsetting, uncomfortable thing to witness. (have you ever been on the sidelines while your boss or a teacher singled out a coworker/fellow student to yell at them? yeah.) and when cassandra looks to them for support, none of them say anything... because rapunzel is the princess and if this is how she wants to handle this conflict then, well, that’s her prerogative and they’re just going to cringe and grimace on cassandra’s behalf instead of sticking up for her. 

and of course, no punches are pulled in illustrating how deeply this harms cassandra herself. we see how upset she is in the moment, we see how subdued she becomes when rapunzel comes to talk to her, we see the smile she forces when rapunzel signals that she isn’t interested in hearing cassandra’s feelings, and of course, this is what triggers “waiting in the wings,” which is a song all about cassandra’s pain—how she feels overlooked, neglected, unvalued, and unheard.

logistically speaking, this argument is a lot more complex than “cassandra right, rapunzel and adira wrong.” and emotionally, rapunzel’s reasons for reacting the way she does are perfectly understandable; it’s her first time ever dealing with a situation like this, she’s still muddling through leadership with no idea what she’s doing, and hearing cassandra call her “obliviously naive” was probably legitimately triggering because, hey, what did gothel always call her!

(though i tend to think that the point cass intended to make before raps cut her off was “what do you mean you can’t do that? are you so naive that you can’t see that you’re in charge? of course you can do that!” vs what i think rapunzel and a lot of the fandom took it as, ie cass saying rapunzel is naive for trusting adira. i like interpreting it that way because it dovetails so neatly with everything else happening in this argument re: rapunzel’s authority.)

but... despite this, the narrative expects us to sympathize with cass here. not because she’s right (her underlying concern is legitimate, but her argument as she presents it is... not right), not because her behavior is appropriate (it’s not), but rather because rapunzel’s leadership in this situation is terrible, exacerbates the conflict, and harms cassandra emotionally. 

and as for rapunzel’s growth into her role as leader, this... is kind of another queen for a day moment. in QFAD, rapunzel experiences a difficult choice for the first time: she is forced to weigh the plea of one person she has a personal relationship with against hundreds or thousands of people who are looking to her for leadership in a time of crisis. and in QFAD, she makes the hard, but right, choice by prioritizing the needs of the many. 

and in RATGT, rapunzel is introduced to another common type of crisis that leaders must be able to handle: an emotionally-fraught interpersonal conflict between two of her advisors which she, as the leader, must mediate. and unlike in QFAD, this time, rapunzel bungles it—and sees the consequences play out in vivid detail. RATGT is a vital learning experience for rapunzel. she couldn’t grow into the kind of leader she becomes over the course of s3 without making the mistake she makes in RATGT. and that’s why it just doesn’t make sense to say that this incident is rapunzel “coming into her authority”—because she’s not, she’s making a mess of things and then dealing with the messy, confusing, hurtful fallout of having done so.

[thenamesblurrito]

Another ask dump

y'all like talking to me and i appreciate it, have some answers, feat. voices of the Matrix, accidental references, photonic crystals, Underbite, types of relics, robot scuba gear, and pineapple pizza

(the post this is referring to)

FHFHGFHSJF an unintentional reference but i'll take it!

(the post this is referring to)

oh huh, yet another unintentional reference, totally forgot about that. there is cyberflora up in the city proper too, i realize i didn't phrase that well. but the stuff that junkers would be able to scavenge from would be the leylines, the wellsprings, the cyberflora growing in odd deep places where no one else has noticed them.

fshfshhsgdf thank you, he IS adorable! i even gave him a little schoolboy tie

you've found a neat little oddity here, actually, which is that it isn't Optimus who hears the former Matrix bearers, it's Orion! when he powers up into Optimus, he essentially absorbs-becomes-assimilates his relic, like shrugging on a selkie skin and becoming more than the sum of both parts. the former Matrix bearers are an aspect of what goes into creating Optimus, but it isn't exactly distinct, not ghosts or voices or guiding hands to direct his actions. no, it's Orion the youngling who hears them speak, or heckle really, gets a sense of who they are/were and what they want and feel and urge him to do. the Matrix is, fortunately, not a very autonomous relic, unlike some other ones with annoyingly strong, uh, personalities. it's not difficult to tune them out if he doesn't want to listen, but it can get irritating when he's trying to pay attention in class.

there are rare exceptions, however, occasions where Optimus encounters what lives within the depths of his relic...

not really, yeah. they EXIST, they're a form of information storage for Cybertronian neural networks and spark scans, as well as being integral material in medical life support systems and hotspot harvesting infrastructure. it's not the Matrix that produces them, however, and there isn't anything particularly supernatural about them. they're in the same general category of resources as sentio metallico, innermost, and rarified or super energon.

nope! that is definitely in the realm of "special talents"/outlier abilities that don't show up naturally in SNAP's storyline. at least, for the normal people. those with relics have plenty of weird abilities, and if Underbite was supernatural, that kind of power would practically be tame in comparison to some of the stuff the heroes do.

that said, there are some random one-off things people can do, just because sparks and thus frames have unique coding with sometimes unpredictable results. Swerve, for instance, discovers in Maccadam's class that he can identify different chemical compounds and materials by taste, with far more accuracy and nuance than the average mech. just a random thing! but hardly supernatural, which is def what increased strength and healing would be.

but perhaps... if things were different... Underbite would have that ability naturally? (side note but can you imagine trying to wrangle an ENTIRE ACADEMY of TEENAGERS with inbuilt abilities like eating anything or forcefields or freakin invisibility like. someone would die on day one just from a hallway fight.)

(the post this is referring to)

i mention it just a little bit here! the difference is more of a meta category than an in-universe term. in short, major relics are major pieces of power consolidated into a usable form, a relic, that will create such a strong bond with the user that they get an entire array of upgrades and powers, with the downside of being totally beholden to this one major relic and incapable of using another major relic (unless you are a loadbearer). minor relics are smaller pieces of power consolidated into a usable form, creating a less all-consuming bond with their users which means a very small set of minor powers and little to no upgrades, but capable of being used alongside other relics, even major ones.

the swords of the Elite Guard, for example, are all minor relics that came linked inside the major relic of the Enigma of Combination. the distinction between major and minor is a little more blurry than that, and some relics are right in the middling area of power that means they might behave as if in either category.

people in-universe don't really have this distinction aside from the mythology and tall tales about the magical tools wielded by the Knights of Cybertron. the Star Saber, for example, is so famous and well recorded that it's actually found a place as a name, like Star Saber the Academy teacher!

(the post this is referring to)

yknow what, you're right! there's definitely some sort of insertable/wearable seals. they wouldn't be permanent, and they'd certainly be bulky and uncomfortable, and some may actually require a medic to insert. they'd get in the way of ventilation, cramp joints, and rub against important lines and protoform. just sticking things into seams and under armor is actually incredibly uncomfortable to the point of triggering something called entrapment protocols, a panicked paralyzed state that can be debilitating if the physical intrusion causing it isn't removed.

because of how diverse and unique frames are, there's no standard seals, and some frames just have too much open space to actually seal, making swimming impossible. so, it comes down to 1) is your frame capable of being sealed, 2) is the discomfort worth it, and 3) can you actually get the seals put in place and removed afterward.

not so easy as putting on a bathing suit, huh.

as for murder via water, yeah! that's definitely a thing, that murderers do! but combat... there's not really combat, not like i believe you're thinking of. there's no war going on, there's no standing army so no drills or training, in fact combat and violence and weaponry in general are very much frowned upon under functionism. i'll quote the relevant part of that post here:

in stark contrast with the severe consequences the state carries out against those it deems wrong, society as a whole is kept very docile. Cybertron is a unified territory, so all of its citizens answer to the government of the Grand Architect. There is no standing army, nor indeed really any army at all, aside from the Enforcers. Violence is frowned upon, to the point where the most violent activity still tolerated is sports like boxing, and even that is considered barbaric. There is no weaponry, especially since mecha aren’t forged with inbuilt weaponry. Enforcers carry state-owned equipment with occasional access to genuine weaponry if facing a bigger target, but those are closely monitored to remain in their stations once their shift is over. Personal use is completely forbidden. More violent or pugilistic folks end up Enforcers, perpetuating the brutality and heavy control of the corps over the populace.

and as for Octopunch, not a clue! i don't remember him, and i don't have him on my character list, so while he might end up as a random background filler cameo, i don't have anything for him right now

afsgsjdjshwoisegf WHAT A QUESTION

Makeshift. Makeshift would adore pineapple pizza. Frenzy would like it, Rumble would HATE it. Predaking would tolerate it and Blackarachnia would pick off the pineapple but still eat the pizza.

Starscream would refuse to touch any pizza with pineapple on it, and Skywarp would eat some just to annoy him, even though he's not a particular fan of it. Thundercracker doesn't really care either way. Megatron likes it okay but avoids it so Starscream doesn't make a giant fuss about it. Blitzwing is disgusted but doesn't make a show of it. Nightracer will eat anything she can get her hands on, good or not, but she picks off the pineapple because Red Alert likes pineapple, and she wants to give them to her.

Ariel likes strawberry pizza better. Moonracer likes chocolate pizza better. Firestar thinks the both of them are heathens and won't eat pineapple pizza. Chromia doesn't like pineapple anyway. Arcee eats it just for the Experience.

Minimus doesn't personally care for it but maintains that anybody can eat whatever they'd like. Windblade doesn't like it and will publicly decry it. The two of them have probably debated over this a few times. Orion doesn't mind it and doesn't have any opinion about it, and is mostly baffled by the arguments over it. Hot Rod is a living vacuum and will c o n s u m e regardless of pineapple or not. Deadlock likes to gross anti-pineapple people out by messily eating it in front of them. Blurr doesn't like pizza very much, it's the tomato sauce.