#felt that if i didn't say anything i would be given assumptions that wouldn't make sense

[quietwingsinthesky]

Hiiiii! So, a few days ago you were talking about the whole thing with Amy, Rory, and River. And when I saw those posts a thought arose in my head and I wish to share it with you.

Since River grew up with Amy and Rory as Mels. And Mels was Amy's best friend do you think that they ever talked about children? Since I know that it can come up when talking with friends, and like... do you think that Amy might've ever expressed whether or not she wanted children?

And if she didn't, that Mels would've had to listen to her mother say that she doesn't want children? The idea is so heartbreaking and sooo interesting.

What do you think about it?

no, no, see, you're so right and this drives me wild.

because, the way i see it, i don't think amy wanted children. she's somewhere on the 'hasn't thought about it' to 'vaguely negative feelings about it happening' range to me, which falls sharply into 'Not Happening Ever Again' post-s6. (specifically, in terms of having a kid herself, even if she could, i really don't think she would. i do love that she and rory end up adopting a kid later, because that does make sense, for amy pond who grew up alone in one universe with her family swallowed by cracks in time before the doctor helped her set it right again, for her to want to make sure another child won't be alone in the world like she was. getting off-track here.)

and that's so. because the first real memory river/mels has of amy is of amy shooting at her. and depending on how well the silence fucked up the rest of her memory, it might be one of the very first memories she has at all. that's how she met her mother, crying for help and getting a bullet instead. her mother tried to kill her, so of course, you have to think. she must have needed to hear that she was wanted, right? even if she was taken away, even if amy shot her, at some point, melody must have been wanted?

river is good at getting people to do what she wants, but she is very, very bad at subtlety. and mels is younger, has less practice, so when she wants to know this, she's just going to ask. blunt and quick, easy enough because amy's used to the way mels will open her mouth and you just have to be ready to roll with what comes out if you want to keep up. it's why they're such good friends (like mother, like daughter.)

they're nine, and mels asks if amy wants kids, and amy wrinkles up her nose and says she won't have time for children, obviously, once her raggedy doctor finally comes back. they're fifteen, and amy and rory dance will they-won't they in a way that makes mels twitchy to watch, and taunting amy about wanting to have rory's babies is a good way to get on her nerves. but amy calls her gross, tells her she's got more life planned than children would leave room for, and besides, imagine her, a mom? it'd be a disaster.

mels does. a lot. she looks at her mother and just sees her best friend instead. she's not even sure what she wishes was there, but. maybe amy's right. and besides. imagine her, a daughter, instead of the ticking time bomb she really is? it'd be a disaster.

they're sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, and on. mels stands on the outside of a love story that births a universe. and her. how do you compete with that? not that she would know, not yet, she hasn't been there. but it doesn't make her feel any less alienated when amy and rory talk in whispers about a half-remembered world that's bled through to this life, about roman soldiers and boxes and the big bang of belief.

all these memories, they never mention children. on amy's wedding day, she's different, not like someone remembering a dream but someone who lived it. rory stands straighter, won't leave her side, and they're both so much older than they were yesterday. maybe now, right? a wedding's as good a time as any to decide you want kids.

mels not being at amy & rory's wedding is such an obvious lazy way of them trying to explain why they totally didn't just throw this plot twist together at the last minute that i'm not even going to acknowledge it. of course she was at their wedding. she's their best friend. there's too many people around the doctor, and she wasn't ready today of all days, so despite this horrible burning need under her skin to strike, she stays her hand. doesn't let him dance with her because she might just tear his throat out if he gets too close. stays with amy and rory as the maid of honor should. she must have been there for the awkward questions that always gets asked, 'so, any plans for a baby?' 'when am i getting grandkids?' 'oh, you two are going to have gorgeous children together.' standing a few feet from amy in her wedding dress and watching her mother tense and grit her teeth and brush off the questions. watching her look nervously at rory but never ask if he means it when his mom asks him if he'd prefer a son or a daughter, and rory answers 'either one, some day, not anytime soon.'

god i'm just going on and on, aren't i. but really, what's it like to know that amy never changed her mind. the next time she sees them, she's already been born and stolen. i don't like let's kill hitler for. so many reasons. but there is something compelling about how recklessly river lashes out at the world, at the doctor. even her sacrifice at the end is almost suicidal, throwing all her regenerations into this man without knowing if that will even work or if it might kill her to do it. but it makes more sense in the context of someone who has reached the end of a long, long wait for some kind of indication, any kind, that her mother wanted to have her. and finally been told, no. she didn't choose melody.

[dragon-tamer-1]

To that anon that asked me about why I still follow a certain person, I hope you can understand that I do not want hate for this. I am very much unaffected by the choice of belief someone else has. And while I know that others don't like or care for that person, I still do enjoy the art and writing by that person. Their choice of belief doesn't really matter to me, especially since that person hasn't ever done anything to anyone that was harmful, that I know of. Everyone is free to dislike someone, but I don't feel it necessary to hate anyone, especially over beliefs.

Please understand that I am not attacking anyone, nor do I advocate for hate of anyone really.

[copperbadge]

RE watching thoughts: I’m not 100% sure, but it might be that the whole “I am not my thoughts” is about engaging and identifying with your metacognition MORE than your initial thoughts. Because I get where you’re coming from - what is a consciousness but a collection of thoughts and feelings? But you can also have thoughts about your own thoughts that are more useful for dealing with whatever situation you’re in, I guess. (Random aside - every time I start thinking about thinking about thinking my brain inevitably starts thinking about Tiffany Aching and The Wee Free Men.)

I really should have replied to this ask sooner because it's going to seem like a non-sequitur now (this was sent much earlier in March) but I'm kind of glad I didn't, because I've been chatting with people about this and I think I understand more why there's an emphasis in some therapies on the idea that we are not our thoughts.

(I uh, haven't read the Tiffany books so I'm not much help there.)

I am coming to understand that many, perhaps most, people judge themselves, comprehensively and harshly, based on their thoughts. Perhaps it's just a lot of people who struggle with mental health, but given the commonality of the sentiment I don't know if I'd confine it that tightly; generally it appears that people cannot conceive of themselves as anything other than a binary of good or bad. So many people I've talked to about this portion of DBT, the watching-questioning-identifying thoughts portion, say that it helps to snap them out of a spiral of "I'm a horrible person, I deserve to suffer/die, I can never be redeemed" after they've failed at something, or had a negative thought, or reacted poorly to an unexpected event.

That is not something I've ever experienced. I mean, jokingly maybe, but not in a real, internal sense.

And that's not to brag -- I'm not saying I think I'm a good person, either, because I don't think I'm a good person. I don't conceive of myself in terms of good or bad. I never cuddle my cats and think "I'm such a good cat dad" or forget to feed them and think "I should die now." I have a perpetual morally neutral attitude towards my own existence; my thoughts and actions might trend me one direction or another but I'm aware of the temporary nature of that. If I fuck up I'll worry about who I might have hurt or whether I'll be fired or what's going to happen as a consequence, if I am polite to someone who didn't deserve it I know I was acting kindly in the moment, but I don't make an inherent moral judgement of myself based on that. And it seems like the vast majority of people do. Which you would think would make me feel pretty good about myself, but honestly...I don't know.

A lot of people I know who have ADHD or are Autistic have talked about seeing themselves as other, as alien -- like that one webcomic artist who draws themself with little antennae to indicate they're strange and different. I've always understood why one might do that, but I never felt that way myself, before or after the diagnosis. After all, let's remember, I was The Normal* Child of my siblings, and if I was The Normal One before the diagnosis, why wouldn't I remain Mostly Normal after?

* As ever, I'm using "normal" as a cultural term, to indicate what we think of as mainstream, not because normal is a thing that really exists.

My life has been relatively solitary -- I have friends and family and I love them but I'm rarely part of a large group, I don't spend a lot of time out in public interacting with people, I'm not a big socializer. Before the Adderall, I really couldn't be, I took too much psychic damage from interpersonal interaction, so I chose those very carefully. And now my DBT class has been a rare moment when I'm encountering contradictions to a lot of my assumptions about the way human beings in our society interact, react, and behave. I just...don't fit that mold very well. I think of it as having crossed wiring, not in the sense that I'm faulty but just in the sense that I'm very, very different. Not Normal. It's not exactly a bad feeling but it's certainly not a great one, internalizing the sensation of alienness.

DBT is proving to be a mixed bag but not in the way I or my therapist intended -- it seems to be either things I was already instinctively doing or things that simply do not apply to me. In one way it's disappointing because it means there isn't much help to be had (we're a little over halfway through the course and I keep thinking "Maybe next class will be useful") but on the other hand it's validating that so much of what I came up with myself as unconscious coping mechanisms is literally what I would have been told to do anyway.

Sometimes it's a combination of both, though, which really blows. I guess most people, if they reframe another person's actions, actually find emotional relief in that, and I don't. An example from the class is that if someone is rude to you, you can consider how they might be having a hard day, and be polite in return; that's great, in terms of defusing a situation, and it's something I do a fair amount of. But apparently it's also something that for most people results in feeling less awful about the interaction, and that's not the case for me. Which is why so much of DBT feels to me like lying to oneself. It's not lying for most people.

So, yeah. I'm going to finish out the course and keep trying things with the therapist but I suspect given everything, I might already be at "as good as it gets" in terms of emotional work. Which isn't the worst thing in the world, and there is still the option to try medication that could help, but I think there will come a point where I'm going to have to deal with the fallout of just how different I am, and how that has impacted my life. Might end up a good thing; something I've really been trying to resolve is unhappiness over being unpartnered and highly likely to remain that way, and at least if this provides a better understanding of why, then perhaps I can process that and put it to rest in a way I've been trying to do but not succeeding well at.

So, we'll see. But I find it both fascinating and kind of horrifying how many people can believe they are irredeemably bad, even if the belief is only temporary, simply because they had an uncharitable thought or impulse. It makes me somewhat grateful for the crossed wires, at least.

[shebeafancyflapjack]

hello hi and omg the Stockholm syndrome with calypso thing. I've never thought of it that way for some reason. woah do you have any other thoughts on that I'd love to hear!!

Hi!

Couple things; so this has been one of my favorite songs long before the saga came out as the demo out on YouTube was pretty much the full version. It's so beautiful and tragic, but I kept assuming that - given the sympathetic vibe of the song - Jorge was going to change this part of the story to make Calypso less of a villain.

Like my assumption was she wouldn't be the one keeping him trapped, it's just the curse of her island and even if she let him go he'd just come back or get hurt. So she's as much of a prisoner as him, basically. But also that it would be clear she didn't SA him as in the Odyssey. It would just be an innocent one sided infatuation that she would keep hoping he'd fall for her over time but wouldn't. So at first I assumed the "I love you" line would be like "I love you as a friend, I would have been alone and gone mad here for years without you, you gave me a bit of peace after all the trauma." Etc.

But then the Wisdom Saga came out...

And Love In Paradise definitely has SA and manipulation vibes. Rather than helping Ody heal in any way, he becomes even worse. Athena says outright "she's kept you trapped out of your control". There's no wriggle room for that. It's not just an innocent love. I would love to have confirmation from Jorge if this Calypso did force herself on him in any way as I think it would clear up things in the fandom.

So with that all in context, I can't hear the line as "I love you as a friend". It doesn't feel earned, we've not glimpsed anything from Calypso that would have Ody respect her that way. So for me it would be more affection born out of captivity and isolation and feeling sorry for your captor, but still wanting to get as far as fuck away from them.

It reminds me a lot of the real life kidnapping of Natasha Kampush whose book describing her ordeal where she was kept trapped underground for eight years is a chilling read. But it is a fascinating insight into what we think of as "Stockholm Syndrome" and how it's not like people imagine where they're brainwashed to be hopelessly devoted to them (and before anyone jumps down my throat, yes I know there's some debate over the name and having it be seen as a mental health condition when it's mostly just human empathy and survival tactic). Natasha's complex feelings towards her abuser and how media tried to romanticise it after her escape reminds me a lot of Odysseus and Calypso. She feared this man, he made her life a misery and treated her worse than a dog - but he was still the only company she had for eight years. There would be times when she felt fleeting moments of normalcy and affection, it's just human nature for that to create a bond. And she would grow sympathy for how messed up he clearly was, probably in much the same way Ody felt sympathy for Calypso being trapped alone.

Yes Calypso is a goddess but she feels the most human out of all the ones who appear in Epic, in the most messy way humans can be.

Hope I've explained that well. 😅

[winterlogysblog]

Overanalyzing King's POV

Part 2

Link to Part 1

Let's talk about Adoption

So Kiane adopted Mertyl and it's pretty obvious that it's a kept secret and that only a few people know the truth. Which is fine, in adoption parents tend to keep it a secret until the child is ready and prepared to know the truth.

And here's the deal, if King and Diane were just a normal Fairy and Giant couple that's all they have to worry about, but that's not the case here. King is the well the King and Diane is the Queen, they're royals and I don't think the fairies would be too pleased to know that their first prince is actually a human oh and not just any human. The human that was switched with their actual fairy prince.

Realistically, if Kiane we're to have told Mertyl that he's adopted. He'll still be in same situation, probably even worse. Fairies are already on his case, questioning his relation to Kiane. "Are you really their kid?" "You don't look like them at all!" Just imagine if Mertyl being their adopted kid is common knowledge. Their quips would be worse and would hurt Mertyl more. Kiane is trying to protect Mertyl from this, that's why they kept it from everybody.

At least now, yes they say these things to Mertyl but they acknowledge him as their prince because that's what they've been told and that's how he acts. They're actually really cool with Mertyl it's just to them, Mertyl is weird looking. So, even if the truth were to come out it wouldn't matter to them cause yes Mertyl is human but he's still Mertyl he's still their prince.

Now, why didn't Kiane tell Mertyl anything even though it's been 18 years. Cause Mertyl isn't ready yet, I mean based on Diane's expressions she knows that this secret is long overdue but in a way they can't do it cause it'll only break Mertyl.

Mertyl has always been insecure about himself and Kiane is trying to make him feel secure, shower him with love and affection in the best ways they could so that even if the truth would come out Mertyl knows that his parents loves him literally no matter what.

And they've done this, as shown in Mertyl's flashback but Mertyl still feels the way he does.

In a world where Mertyl is secure in his place, that he knows the love that his parents, siblings and everyone has for him. There will be no conflict between him and Nasiens. In this world Mertyl would actually feel happy that Nasiens is at their doorstep and would actually help and guide Nasiens into learning about their true identity.

Unfortunately, that's not the case here.

Mertyl saw King gave the Drug of Yore to Nasiens. Now this scene is just filled to the brim with misunderstangs that my only hope is for Sixtus to use his brain and talk it out with his pops.

Mertyl felt betrayed at this moment. This is his worst nightmare came to life.

There's this medicine that in his mind can cure him, can help him and Sixtus reassured him saying that their father is a kinder King than anyone out there and he'll give it to him.

Notice the phrasing here, they know their father's responsibilities as King, they can differentiate between his two roles. Yes, he's their father and he'll do anything for them but he's also the Fairy King, a being that has immense responsibilities and power. They're aware that there are some things that he can't do for them because he's the Fairy King.

But there he saw, his father giving the very thing he came there to ask for to Nasiens just like that. This is the ultimatum for him, so he ran off. Without knowing the full truth behind his father's actions.

Then, we have Nasiens, I love you but baby you kinda messed up on this one. He just jumped to his assumption here.

When King gave the drug, Nasiens refused and claimed that he's rather cruel for letting him run around and make medicine for Percy and fail everytime for the past 2 years only to give this to him now and argued that he should have given it to Mertyl.

Granted, Nasiens doesn't know that Mertyl is human so I guess good on you for having Mertyl's back. But Nasiens you can't just assume these things without knowing the full story, let the man explain. Regardless of King's reasons (I already made a post about it check it out if you wanna know my thoughts) in my eyes he made the thoughest decision a father could ever make here.

At this very moment, King is letting Nasiens go.

King knows what Nasiens is here for and he knows that the moment Percy wakes up they'll leave. King and Diane have suspected and confirmed to themselves that Nasiens is their kid. But Nasiens doesn't really need them, he's fine, he has friends that cares for him, he has hopes and aspirations, he grew up to be such a great person. To King, seeing Nasiens the way they are now and being able to take care of him for 2 years and help him with his goal, that is more than enough. King is letting Nasiens go because he knows that Mertyl needs them the most.

And here's the thing, I have a huge feeling that King decided on this a long time ago, that's why he didn't explicitly tell Nasiens anything for 2 years. And look at King's face here, he seems content, happy even.

King is willing to let Nasiens go without even saying that he's their father, without saying that they're family, without a hug, without a good heart to heart, not even a chance to hear the word Father from them, without any closure. None of that. Because King chose Mertyl

King chose Mertyl cause that's his son

King chose Mertyl despite the fact that he has finally found his firstborn

This is a sacrifice he's willing to make because that's how much King loves Mertyl

[atarathegreat]

Please, Forgive Me. Alejandro Vargas

Alejandro never meant to hurt you.

"It's okay, big guy, just a scratch. I'll be okay."

Normally, the praise of a gentle name like big guy or smart boy was enough to make him purr and settle into your hand. Why wasn't it enough this time? Why didn't it calm him?

Medics hurried in and out, in and out, in and out... but none of them spoke to him. It didn't really shock Alejandro that they didn't. He was hybrid, a thing they didn't have to answer to. For them and the other soldiers, his ears and tail were nothing but a sign that he was property, a tool, a weapon.

A weapon that just gravely injured the one wielding him.

A dumb scent, that's all it took. A small whiff of something from his past, and he blinks to find himself face to face with the only human he can stand, bloody and scratched up beyond what he'd ever done to an enemy. Alejandro couldn't wrap his mind around it. How could he hurt the one person, the one human, who ever saw any good in him?

Chemical scents pushed under the door to his nose, and he bristled. No one had ever said anything about operating on you. The ugly gray walls seemed to close in around him, he could already hear the condescending voice of the council that would deem him too dangerous to be alive, and it made his tail flick back and forth with uneasiness. There wasn't a world where he wasn't getting the death sentence for this. Even if that was his end, maybe he could ask them to spare him until you recovered? Maybe they'd find it in their hearts to let him apologize and beg forgiveness from you?

How could he have failed you this hard? You taught him how to control himself and that he could go to you for comfort! How could he have done this?!

The doors creaked open, and a short man stepped out, his hair slicked back with what smelled like an expensive oil. He was the head in the medic's corner, top dog, as you would say. "Is it only you out here?" The shorty looked around as if anyone else truly would be there. Maybe if Alejandro wasn't pacing or he hadn't mauled half of them, there would be more. Instead of being sarcastic, a knee-jerk response that you had scolded him for many times, Alejandro just pointed his ears down and nodded. Being snappy wouldn't help.

"The lieutenant is stable." Was the only explanation Alejandro was given. Not like the doctor owed him anything more. Still, his heart ached with the intense need to go to you and curl up beside you. It wouldn't be enough to ease his guilt, but this wasn't about making it easier on him. Alejandro just wanted to let you know he regretted whatever he did, that he felt so, so bad for hurting you this much. You had a surgery because of him, you had lost blood because of him, you were currently in the med-bay because of him. And he didn't want to shake that guilt. If anything, Alejandro wanted you to put the muzzle on him, wanted you to be angry and slap the mittens on his hands, leash him to the buckle on your belt and, if he was given the death penalty, he wanted you to be the last face he got to see.

"Can I go in and see them?" Alejandro stared down at the little doctor, hoping that his height wasn't as intimidating as others had said it was. There was the assumption that the doctor would tell him no and a team would round the corner to cuff him and dump him in the basement. The plump man nodded, no longer paying attention to him, "Just be careful. They'll be stiff for a while."

You looked better than when Alejandro had come back to his senses. Stitched up, no more blood splatters. It was almost like you had just fallen asleep and were waiting for Alejandro to wake you for his morning exercise. Gods, what he wouldn't give for it to be him curling up under your blankets and growling to get you to take him on a run.

"I'll stay right here until you wake up... I won't move a muscle." Alejandro nuzzled against your neck. He hated the scent of surgical cleaners on your flesh and couldn't wait for you to wake up so he could replace it with his scent.

[cumulo-stratus]

02- Lover

pairing- Spencer Reid x Male!reader summary- slow burn story of how spencer reid fell in love with Y/n L/n warnings- profanities, some arguing, lemme know if theres anything else! wc- 2k a/n-big big thank you to @avis-writeshq for proof reading this!! And guys I know 2k isn't a lot but it's a lot for me and im rly proud of my self 😚

part 1//part 2

While the interactions y/n and Spencer had started sharing on the train had plagued both men's minds, it had been for very different reasons. If you asked Spencer, he'd be inclined to use words such as enchanting, or describe it as a delightful rush when he thought about it. But if you asked y/n, he might be more likely to use words like conflicting, frustrating, yet electric. Like the rush of doing something bad, while in motion you're given a short, small burst of adrenaline, but once done an equal rush of guilt follows.

 This guilt was egged on by Gina- y/n’s girlfriend. If you asked any of his friends they would say that she’s not good for him. She was about as emotionally mature as a highschooler, to put it lightly. Almost immediately after the couple left their honeymoon phase, Gina became jealous and overbearing. She would yell at him for not texting her back immediately, or accuse him of cheating at least once a week. And many other incidents of the sort. Y/n knew it was toxic and had been telling his friends he would break up with her soon- but somehow never got around to doing it.

Lately their arguments had revolved around the topic of one man- Spencer. Gina felt y/n was spending too much time with him, 'I'm your girlfriend- not him!’, about summed up the argument they’d engaged in the night previously. 

“Well how would you feel if i was hanging out with some guy from the gym all the time, and flirting with him, and sexting him all the time like a whore- wouldn't you feel the same?!”

Gina was absolutely incensed when she found out that her boyfriend traded numbers with the genius, and texted each other regularly. In her mind they were basically having sex, and y/n was basically creating on her.

“Oh don't you dare turn this around on me! we only hang out on the train, it's not like we’re getting dinner together or something! god you need to get a grip…”

The last part was mumbled but Gina still heard it- and was even more incensed by it. And although y/n knew the way he was handling it was a bit childish, but he didnt care- he just so mad in the moment. He was enraged at Gina for not trusting him enough.

“What the fuck y/n?!! You’re such a liar!!”

And so they went on in circles like this for at least an hour. Gina would make an argument consisting of primarily lies and assumptions, and y/n would try to convince her otherwise- fruitlessly of course. Round and round they went, and needless to say y/n slept on the couch that night. And the next morning Spencer noticed y/n massaging his neck every couple of minutes- despite y/n’s attempts to be discreet about the pains in his neck. He didn't want to make a big deal about it, as he had slept on the couch many times before anyways after fights with his girlfriend. 

— 

“You seem chipper-”

Derek observed with a teasing smile when Spencer pushed through the large doors of the BAU, the comment doing nothing to deter the unusually large smile plastered on his face. Said smile grew even slightly more when he felt the vibration of a text against the fabric in the pocket of his pants, knowing it was a text from y/n. He didn't text anyone else much anyways for it not to be him. If anything y/n had taught him how to text. Of course Spencer knew how to type and send a text to someone, but didn't do it unless he had to- he’d rather call them or talk to them in person. That was of course until y/n offered him his number and spencer had to then awkwardly explain that he didn't really text all too much. When he found this out, y/n had taken it upon himself to teach Spencer how to text with him. He called it their texting for dummies lessons. They spent almost a week's worth of commutes doing said lessons.  

“Oh I just had a nice morning that's all.”

Spencer was quick to shrug off the comment, knowing the endless teasing that would ensue if Derek knew the real reason for his extra large smile that morning. 

“or do you mean a nice night? who was it- the librarian, or no no the only other person in the theater watching a 3 hour long sci-fi!”

Derek spoke with a wiggle to his eyebrow and teasing lilt to his voice. Luckily Derek got Spencer's back when Penelope poked her head out the round table room and held up the casefile, announcing a new case. 

“Heads up crime fighters! we got another one!”

Her words caught the attention of the Profilers scattered about the bullpen and drew them towards the briefing room. Spencer rushed to finish pouring the 6th sugar packet into his coffee mug and texted Y/n to let him know he had a case, before shoving his phone into his pocket and half jogging to his seat around the table. 

Y/n knew about Spencer's job, mostly because the first time Spencer wasn’t on the train for a couple days while on a case, y/n freaked. When he got on the train again a couple days later as if nothing had happened- y/n demanded an explanation. And now Spencer texted him whenever he got called on a case- even though he knew y/n wouldn't worry and just assume he was on a case- it was an excuse for them to text more. And Spencer would take any opportunity possible to talk to him.

Later, as the team boarded the jet spencer overheard JJ and Emily practically gossiping about what had happened that morning with derek. spencer just sighed, pulling a worn book from the messenger bag at his hip, and flipping to the doggy eared page. Although he was still slightly distracted by JJ and Emily not so subtly talking about him. 

“you think he’s found someone?”

emily’s giggle reminded spencer of that of a school girl gossiping. Emily leaned towards JJ, eager to hear what she had been told penelope- the ever terrible secret keeper. Not that his recent mood shifts were much of a secret anyways. 

“i mean do you see how much more hes been texting? INstead reading during his lunch break he texts. What- or who could be so intriguing that Spencer Reid chooses it over a book? a crush! thats who.”

JJ and Emily seemed convinced at Emily's argument for Spencer's recent change in behavior. This overheard conversation sparked thoughts about y/n in spencers mind. And spencer agreed silently with emily that y/n was worth not making progress on a book he was reading. As in his opinion talking with y/n was the most entertaining thing he could do.

—

When Spencer returned home from the case in Kentucky, needless to say he was absolutely exhausted. But despite every signal his body was giving him- he decided to stay awake in order to finish the book y/n had recommended to him. That way the two could discuss the novel on their daily commute.

The moment y/n stepped onto the train the next morning, Spencer could tell something was off- and it didnt take a profiler to see something was wrong his hands fidgeted at his sides more than normal, his eyes had large bags under them, and his entire demeanor sagged like the bag on his back was filled with large stones. When y/n crossed the subway car and took his normal seat, Spencer had decided to refrain himself from asking what was wrong- as he didn't want to intrude. Spencer had always been a little awkward- and he knew from experience that asking could make it worse. So he left it alone for now and tried to make conversation about the novel he’d finished the night before. And y/n had actually perked up a bit when they got into an excited debate over two charachters- until his phone buzzed in his pocket again. At first Spencer didn't notice it, and continued rambling about his analysis of the aforementioned book, and the aforementioned characters they had been debating over - Spencer didn't notice until he heard an exasperated sigh leave y/n’s lips. He froze mid sentence, thinking he’d said something wrong- or that he’d rambled too much (as he often did) but then he noticed y/n's gaze was locked onto his phone- which was opened to text messages.

💕GF💕

-lemme guess your still talking to that ‘dr. reid’ AFTER we talked about it last night

-you need to stop hanging out with him- im better for you 

Spencer didn't mean to read it, But he still did- and it hurt. His brows creased and he looked at y/n with a pained look. A lump formed in y/n's throat when he looked over and realized Spencer had read the text from gina- and the text he had already typed out to respond with. it read ‘ you know you shouldn’t make assumptions like that- we barely even talk after the argument we had about it last week.

“You know, you should’ve told me if your girlfriend didn't want us hanging out- i dont wanna ruin your relationship..”

Spencer's voice was a bit strained and you could hear the hurt in it. y/n rushed to apologize but Spencer didn't want to hear it. 

“spencer i'm sorry- its just- just gina gets a little insecure sometimes and we argued about it last night- She just gets jealous a lot-”

Y/n's rambled half apology, half explanation did nothing to ward off the hurt Spencer was experiencing, or to slow down his thoughts, which were jumping to conclusions faster than Spencer could read. And before he spoke he had to swallow the lump that had formed in his throat and blink away the burning of tears behind his eyelids, threatening to spill.

“So gina never wanted us to hang out?! you should’ve told me y/n- i'm not gonna intrude on your relationship.”

While the pair argued, y/n could hear the previous night's argument with his girlfriend ringing the back of his mind. Gina yelling about him being a pathological cheater, and her having to put up with it. Gina often played the victim in any and all situations where she was at fault. Because deflecting was often much easier than dealing with her own issues. 

Despite the fact that the pair was in a heated argument, the pair spoke in hushed tones as to not attract more attention than the already prying eyes of the quite crowded train car. Y/n was shocked- he could believe Spencer would say something like that- and in the heat of the moment he didn’t notice the tears lining Spencer's waterline- or in fact the tears that lined his own. After a moments silence, the train conveniently halted to a stop at spencers station- and wasted no time in hastily pulling his messenger bag that only a little while ago had been used to save a seat for y/n, over his shoulders with a huff and all but stomped out of the train car. And as the doors to the train car closed shut with a satisfy shhhk behind him, Spencer pulled the corner of his unbuttoned cardigan up to his face and wiped his slightly red eyes of their tears, feeling trickles of guilt now snaking their way into the pit of his stomach for what he said to the man he held so dear.

TO BE CONTINUED...

[kaurwreck]

regardless of people understanding if it was a joke or not (which it definitely was!) I think the point was no one needed the run down of why it’s a flare gun. but I appreciate your knowledge and understanding of the differences and the commitment to pointing it out 👍 it’s always impressive how much you know

God, this is such an annoying follow-up to what was already an uncharmingly ironic ask and I'm so fucking exhausted that I'm going to shed boundaries and good faith for a moment to express that I'd rather y'all just call me a cunt.

I don't know quite how to explain to you that the issue you have with me isn't because I don't know that it's a joke. I know people are joking. I just don't assume everyone is making the same joke premised on the same assumptions. I spoke to one subset of assumptions (that I had clearly explored myself) without precluding any other.

I didn't reblog the post because of an arbitrary commitment to pointing out differences nor because I thought everyone was mistaken in their handgun taxonomy and needed me to enlighten them. I do think some people were conflating the flare guns with firearms, given (i) I mistook them for a moment and I was under the impression that I counted as a people, and (ii) the alternative requires assuming that over a thousand people in an online, international animanga fandom community share the exact same, arbitrary understanding regarding the mechanics and classification of flare guns.

In idly considering the likelihood that other people were conflating flare guns with firearms, I realized I didn't actually know whether flareguns weren't firearms: I don't know their legal or technical classification, or if they could even be used as firearms in close enough range, or if they could be modified into functional firearms. I don't know anything about flare guns other than what I've picked up in passing from fiction. So I looked it up because I thought it was a compelling question and could make for a really fun speculative fight sequence between Kunikida and Fyodor.

I enjoyed the kernels I found, and while I've been told others may not care for the granular detail, it felt likely that someone else might find the gist interesting or clarifying, or might enjoy extrapolating the implications for Kunikida's position the way I have been given he is uniquely capable of and the most likely to abruptly modify a flare gun into a grenade. I'm also so, so sure that there was sincere ambiguity amid the joking, and I don't know why there wouldn't be, we are not born with a primordial understanding of flare guns' limited capacity for carnage. So, I shared a bite-sized version of my takeaways from what I read, which itself was not a lot.

The details I "run through" are how I keep my thoughts organized, and I sometimes post them to externalize them because I have ADHD and that's a memory tool that works for me. Also, otherwise, I would just be barking conclusions without contextualizing the facts I flagged as relevant and the implicit assumptions therein, which wouldn't leave much room for anyone to chat or disagree or brainstorm with me if they're interested.

All of this to say: I had fun learning about flare guns midmorning on a Thursday, and I liked the dialogue I had with the post's ambiguity. I've had an immensely stressful week, I'm not sleeping well and had then been feeling especially sluggish and anxious. But the process of prodding at the plausible literal and nonliteral implications of the joke brought me a spark of enjoyment and so for closure and out of fondness for the polyphonic, indirect conversation I had with myself and potentially others on the post or who might later see the post, I left something tangible as a happy little loose thread.

So, sure, no one needed the run down of flare guns. But I did! So, politely block me if it's agitating to you.

[slxsherwriter]

Friday Nights

Fandom: Halloween 2007

Pairings: Zach Garrett x unnamed female oc

Word Count: 5,153

Warnings: Domestic violence, abusive relationships, drinking

Author's note: I honestly had forgotten that I had this sitting away. This was part of Nano 2023, and it hadn't seen the light. Big thanks for @tinalbion for reading through this and telling me the flow wasn't as terrible as I thought. You are wonderful! Cruddy gif is my own. Had to look everywhere to find the theatrical cut of Halloween since that is the only version that Bill's character Zach appears in.

Friday nights had always been theirs, a time to unwind, relax, and have the company of someone that they actually enjoyed. Zach couldn't recall a time at this point in his life where it hadn't been the two of them on a Friday night. It didn't matter where. Her place, his, a bar chosen at random. The location never really meant anything. They could make do anywhere and everywhere. It just couldn't be missed and couldn't be messed up.

The exception to that rule had been if one of them was too ill or got stuck at work. Otherwise, the start of the weekend was a sacred time for them both. In the near fifteen years that they had been friends, that hadn't changed. No one else was allowed to encroach on the time. And no one ever had. Relationships came and went, each of them thinking that they had found somebody only to have Things fall through for one reason or another. Through it all, the Friday night get togethers never ceased. It was the one thing that they could each rely on no matter what happened in life.

That was until now. When she had called and said that she wouldn't be able to make their Friday get-together, Zack had thought that she was sick. He had offered to bring her whatever she needed, making the assumption that she was staying home. When she had told him that she was meeting up with a guy, a tightness in his chest formed. That wasn't right. Still, he managed to be a good friend and congratulated her. He was able to spit out the words that he was happy for her, even if they felt like acid on his tongue. He's supposed to should be thankful. She hadn't done it in person, which made it much easier to be able to lie. She would have known right away that he wasn't being genuine if she had been able to see his face. So, Zack did the only thing he could think to do. He picked up a shift at Smith Grove for Friday night. It would at least keep his mind off everything. There was a small selfish part of him that hoped it didn't go well, and if it didn't, he wouldn't be available for a phone call. The thought did make him feel a little guilty, but at the same time, it was fueled by hurt.

Friday night came and went, and there was no phone call. He felt it was safe to assume that everything had gone well. He wasn't sure if that made him feel better or worse. Though he didn't have to wait long to get more information. Midday Saturday, he had received a text from her. It was another apology for cancelling last minute, but in addition it included how wonderful the date had gone. Another false sentiment of happiness was given. Then she confirmed that they were indeed on for the following friday, that she wouldn't be cancelling and that she would be buying drinks. Zack didn't have the heart to say anything else to that besides agreeing. Maybe this thing with this guy would fizzle out, as they often did. If he could consider his luck with relationships bad, hers was worse. Maybe things could have been different, could be different if he could get his head out of his ass and actually say something to her. But the fear of ruining the friendship was far too high.

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

Things felt odd all week, something that he couldn't seem to shake. Like something was looming overhead, await that was pressing down and affecting every aspect of his life. Well, Fridays had always been that chance at releasing anything and everything that had built up during the week. This Friday almost seemed to be adding to the pressure. Deciding to have a fuck all attitude, Zack had invited her over to his place for the night. He did not feel like being out among the public or dealing with anybody else. And the thought of running into whoever it was that she was seeing made his stomach churn. Safety of his home was far better.

A knock on the door was the only signal that he got that she had arrived. Nothing about the fact that she had made her way inside with a simple knock to announce her presence was unusual. Hell, they even had spare keys to each other's places if something were to go wrong or the other needed something. But something about tonight felt just as off as the rest of the week had. He shoved it to the back of his mind for now, wanting to focus on having a pleasant Friday evening with her. There was plenty to drink in his fridge, and by the sounds of it, she had brought even more. She had said that she would be buying so he wasn't all that surprised. Coming out of the office, he found her setting a couple of bottles on the counter and two cases of beer in the fridge.

"Hey, was wondering where you were," she greeted softly with a smile. The one that he always enjoyed seeing. It softened her face a bit, brightened her eyes.

"Sorry, was just finished up some things needed for work."

"They got you pulling mandated overtime again?"

"Nah, that was all last week." She scoffed, and he couldn’t help but smile. Always worried about him and the work that he did. It seemed that wouldn't change.

"Got your favorite, figuring that I owed at least that much." He shook his head and leaned against the counter as she finished up in the refrigerator.

"It's really no big deal, you know that."

"See, that's how I know you are wrong." There was a pause between them, but it didn't feel awkward like Zach half expected it to after last week. Instead, the silence that stretched between them held the same level of comfort that it always did. There was not always a constant need to fill that stretch of time with sound. A rare occurrence that he found. Most people seemed to always feel the need to ruin a quiet moment. She never had, contented to move through time on the same level that he did. "You know I wouldn't have canceled unless it was something important."

"I know. And you know that you don't need to go apologizing. Really, it is okay. You're here now, and that is what matters, right? So, why don't we crack open one of these bottles and get started while waiting for the rest of that to cool down?" He reached for one of the bottles of whiskey. Seemed like a good place to start as any. She held up her hands in a gesture of surrender before moving to grab them both some glasses as he opened the bottle and reached for his phone to order some pizza. If the plan was to drink even half of what she had brought, they would need some food. Thank God he didn't have to go to work tomorrow. It wasn't as easy to pull off this shit as it had been even just a few years ago. Not that they always drank heavily, but it looked like the night's aim would be to make up for the missing day last week.

That observation hadn't been all that far off. A bottle down along with a couple of cans of beer and Zach was feeling the pleasant haze of being drunk beyond a shadow of a doubt. Relaxed on the couch beside his friend, thoughts were anything but platonic. She was nearly plastered into his side, laughing as they talked about some of the ridiculous things that they had done when they were younger.

"You remember when we were out for my twenty-first, and that asshole at the bar wouldn't leave me alone?" Zach chuckled and shifted an arm around her, keeping her close to this side, even if the action was unnecessary. There was nothing strange about cuddling. Nope.

"Man would not take anything for any answer. Still swear I shoulda knocked the shit out of him."

"Yeah, but that would have gotten us kicked out. Instead…" He shook his head a little and squeezed her shoulders.

"Instead, I pretended to be your boyfriend. We didn't hear the end of it that night." It wouldn't have been a bad thing, but all of their friends had thought it was ridiculous. Why had Zach listened to a single thing that had been said that night? How different things could be.

"It's your fault for just coming up and kissing me without saying a damn thing!" She laughed. While the memory had been amusing, it was also one of those that Zach replayed over and over again in his mind. Especially when he was drinking and alone. He swallowed hard for a moment and glanced down at her. She was snickering and laughing a little too hard at the memory. Now would be an embarrassing time to let any arousal cloud over what little judgment was left. But did it matter?

Captivated. That was what he was as he watched her fondly, all while his fingers moved absently against her arm.

"It shut him right up and right down though, didn't it?" he could lean in and kiss her now. It would be so easy. As the thought became more and more enticing by the second, he had to be content with the way that he she was turning more into him, pressing into his side and wrapping an arm around his waist. Why was it a bad idea? Liquid courage at its finest, though that was not what registered in his brain. All that kept playing on repeat was that previous kiss. It would be so much better now, wouldn't it? They were closer and knew each other so much better than even then. They had been through so much more.

Before he could second guess the action, Zach was leaning in and brushing his lips over hers. The soft little gasp of surprise sent a shiver down his spine and shot the last little bit of control or thought that his brain could muster. A more insistent kiss was pressed to her lips. Much to his utter joy, she was kissing him back, that soft hand coming to rest against his neck. Nothing outside the two of them mattered. Actions were a little sloppy, the effects of the alcohol apparent, though it wasn't anything that he could give two shits about. He had her here, in his arms, kissing her with her returning the affections.

His currently unoccupied hand lifted and gently carded fingers through her hair. Giddiness, like he was a teenager all over again, forced everything else into the deep recesses of his mind. Finally. After all this time, it was finally happening. For a mere second, there was a break, both gathering their breath. Not a word was uttered. It wasn't needed. Then, she was pressing into his with far more enthusiasm, practically crawling her way into his lap and Zach had to quickly adjust, though it ended with him on his back, waist straddled and his hands against her hips. A position that he would not complain about. Ever. It could have been hours or minutes, but Zach wasn't able to tell. There wasn't any desire to pull back or shift her from his lap. Though eventually, oxygen was needed. The two were silent, looking at one another, soft smiles shared without having to say anything. Fingers gently ran over her cheek, the moment seared into his brain. He felt sleepy, warm, and comfortable. She settled down against his chest, sprawled out over him, allowing him to wrap an arm properly around her waist.

The next thing that registered was the painful bright light that came streaming through the window. With a pained wince, it took effort to manage to open his eyes. There was a warmth atop him. What had happened? Glancing down, he was greeted with the sight of air. Oh, that was right. They must have fallen asleep after drinking and…shit. They had been making out. In the light of day and with a sober mind, he realized that perhaps neither of them had made good decisions last night. Or maybe it was the best decision that he had ever made. Things were yet to be seen. He would have to wait for her to wake up to make that determination. For now, he was going to enjoy the few moments that he was gifted.

A small groan told him that she was waking up. A part of him wanted the moment to last just a little longer, selfishly enjoy something that would likely be ripped away from him in mere seconds. But there wasn't anything to do as she shifted. He could feel her lift a hand, rubbing her face.

"Morning," he murmured gently, not wanting to startle her. There was a dull throb in the back of his head, a sure sign of the hangover that would be plaguing them both as soon as they actually started to move around. There was a small grunt given in response, and he had to do his best not to laugh. It would have been a little too painful right then. She just seemed to nuzzle closer instead of pulling away. Not what he expected, but maybe she hadn't quite come out of whatever dreamland that she had been living in. While it wasn't common, it wasn't exactly unheard of that they ended up cuddled on the couch or passed out and waking up like this. He just figured it wouldn't be the case when she had whatever it was that was developing with whatever his name was.

"Shit…" She managed to slowly pick her head up before realizing what position they found themselves in. Another second, and she was picking herself up off of him. Zach immediately missed the heat. "How much did we drink last night?" His heart sunk a little when that was the first thing that she asked. Did he say anything? Would it be smart?

"Probably too damn much," he offered with a slightly pained chuckle. Zach ran a hand over his face and forced himself to sit up, where, as expected, the throbbing in his head immediately worsened. "If you feel anything like I do, I have a feeling that you'll agree."

"Yeah, okay. We overdid it." He didn't watch as she moved towards the kitchen, listening to the steps that wandered off. Perhaps she was ignoring the elephant in the room. Perhaps it was a simple case of her not remembering. Zach wasn't sure which he would prefer it to be, which might hurt a little less. Pushing the thoughts to the back of his mind in favor of heading to the bathroom, Zach could worry about it later. Things were normal otherwise this morning so why bother messing with the status quo.

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

She never mentioned what happened, and after a week where things weren't awkward, he figured that she simply didn't remember what had happened. He did, and it was just making things a little more difficult for him. Sure, it happened when they were both drunk, but Zach really wanted to believe that even with alcohol, she wouldn't have done anything that she didn't want to do. But, like the good friend that he was, he didn't say anything since her relationship seemed to be progressing instead of ending like things had over the last few years. She was happy, so he had to suck it up.

A few weeks went by, and everything seemed typical. Work was work, life went by, and Friday nights continued to be a source of enjoyment. He had gone on a few dates, though nothing really stuck. Everyone ended up compared to her and always fell short. Not that the reasoning was ever fully explained to her when they got together. That would ruin the whole thing that he was trying to do.

It was when a Friday night was skipped without warning that Zach began to feel a little uneasy. At first, he thought it was something that he had done. Maybe she had remembered and had decided that it was something that she couldn't handle anymore. A spiraling thought pattern that he was able to recognize. Zach had to give the benefit of the doubt, calling her to check in and see if she needed anything the next morning. That uneasy feeling grew, though, when she had said that she had forgotten to let him know that she hadn't been able to make it. Her voice sounded off. Off in a way that he couldn't place but enough to make that pit in his gut grow. The sort of off that he heard at work at times, when someone was worried or trying to hide something.

That worry grew into an all out concern when she started to not return texts and when more get togethers were missed without any sort of warning or explanation. All the way, this guy was still in her life. Concern remained present but began to share space with suspicion. Zach was simply a security guard at Smith Grove. It wasn't like he had a lot of reach or ability to look into things. But he was owed a few favors with some people who did have those abilities. Now was the time to call them in. He needed some background information on this guy that was becoming a major part of his friend's life. One that he had yet to meet, one that there was always an excuse so he couldn't. Red flags slowly began popping up left and right but until he had information and some concrete evidence.

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

Poignantly, information came to him on a Friday night. Another night that was meant for them to spend together, and there had been nothing but radio silence. While suspicions weren't entirely confirmed, Zach didn't like the information that had been given to him. The guy had a record, and there were some things on there that were enough that it wouldn't take a leap to putting hands on someone.

He had to see her and had to check on her after not seeing her for nearly three weeks. It was the longest time that they had gone without seeing one another for almost ten years. Armed with the knowledge that there could be a potential problem when he showed up, he was prepared for all possible outcomes. Arriving at her home, the first thing that he did was try to see if the lights were on. Some sort of sign that she was there. Check. There was a soft glow coming through the curtains. Someone was home. Now, the question was if he used the key or knocked on the door. The key would give him the element of surprise, but if his concerns were correct, that sort of action could make things way worse for her. Knock on the door it was.

He waited patiently, glancing around for a moment as there was nothing but silence on the other side of the door. Another car sat in the driveway, one that he wasn't familiar with but assumed it belonged to the boyfriend. Seconds passed, which turned into two minutes before the door finally cracked open. Zach had been about ready to go for the spare key before he could see her face around the crack in the door. His stomach dropped to his feet as she seemed panicked. Not outwardly, but he could see it in her eyes. The way that they were darting back and forth, fingers fidgeting at the door. Something was very wrong.

"Hey, sweetheart. Hadn't heard from you in a bit and wanted to check in. Was worried about you." She still hadn't fully opened the door, something that hadn't escaped his notice. "Think I can come in?" Under any other circumstances, Zach would have respected whatever answer that she gave but tonight? He wasn't going to take no for an answer.

"Now really isn't a good time, Zach." The words shook, causing him to square his shoulders. Resolve washed through him, reminding him why he was where and why he was doing this.

"I'm gonna say it again. I'm worried about you." He tried to get the point across without saying it outright, but at this rate, it looked like she was going to make him. The sounds of heavy footsteps caught his attention. Whoever was in the house with her was coming to the door.

"Zach, please. Now isn't a good time." It was almost a plea. Enough so that it caused him to press his hand to the door, applying some pressure to be able to get her to open it more. A brief struggle before his willpower was the one that won out.

"I don't care what you think, I'm not leaving you like this. Not when I know something is wrong." Maybe he should have given it a little more thought, but his overriding concern was your safety. And right now? She was not safe. He could hear the angry words that were coming from the hallway right before the man appeared. All before his brain could register the bruise that was forming on the side of her face.

"What the hell is this?" Zach's eyes finally locked on the man that had been causing so many issues and found exactly what he expected. A larger than average frame, both height and weight and a look that screamed rage. Experience told him that this was going to turn into a fight rather quickly. Squaring his shoulders a bit, he was already trying to assess which would be the safest way to get her out of the line of fire and what at hand weapons were closest to grab. None of the options were particularly good, but what was he supposed to do? He was in the thick of it now. There wasn't any turning back.

"I think it's about time for you to leave." The asshole had the audacity to laugh. As much as he wanted to react harshly and immediately, Zach knew that he couldn't. He had to be the one with the level head, thinking clearly would be the thing that got them both out of this safely. It was the same as if he was handling a patient at work. The only difference? He wasn't armed with a loaded shotgun, permission to shoot if things were getting out of hand. So, the next best thing had to be done. Though, it wasn't entirely clear besides getting her out of harm's way what that thing was.

"And just who the hell do you think you are? No one. She's the one who owns this place and decides who comes and goes. And she doesn't want me going anywhere, do you, sweetheart?" Zach didn't miss the way that she seemed to cringe at the pet name, something that she had never done when he used it. It was just another sure sign that his gut feeling had been right.

"See, I know she is entirely capable of making her own decisions, but do you? Because it seems to me that she isn't overly fond of your presence."

"Fuck off and get out of the house." It was Zach's turn to make an amused sound.

"I'm not letting you hurt her anymore. So, either you get out of this house or I call the cops. And I'm not sure that you can really afford another hit on your record right now, can you?"

"Is that a fucking threat?"

"Take it as you want." The man closed down the distance, and Zach tensed, prepared to take a swing or move out of the way as quickly as possible. A good thing too as the punch came without any warning, the arm barely cocking back before flying at his face. While he attempted to dodge, he wasn't able to get out of the way of the full blow, getting clipped on the jaw. Shit, that was a hell of a punch. Probably a good thing he had not taken it full on, otherwise he might have been unconscious on the floor. With the first punch thrown, he quickly moved to put some distance between them while reaching out to grab the closest item that could be used as a makeshift weapon. "Guess that racks up assault." Maybe he shouldn't be taunting the man but he couldn't help himself.

"Danny, stop!" She had reached out to grab Danny, and Zach had to grit his teeth as the man shook her off, sending her into the wall. Just what he had been trying to avoid.

"All right, asshole. This ends now. I'm not letting you hurt her again." Instead of responding, Danny simply took a few more swings. Noot the easiest to dodge but he managed for the most part. There was one blow to his side that had the air knocked out of his lungs entirely, causing him to swing in reaction. It caught Danny on the side of his face, though given that it was an umbrella, it didn't do all that much damage. Enough to make him back off a few steps though, and it opened a cut along his cheek. The opening was enough for Zach to duck by the hulking frame. Taking a whack at Danny's legs from behind, he reached for the phone to call 911. Just two seconds were needed to make the call and get the police here.

*****

The last thing that he wanted to do was deal with paramedics or the hospital. So, as soon as Zach was able to sign the consent form, he did so. Thankfully, it didn't seem like she needed to go. The blow to the head hadn't been recent, so there was no concern for any concussion. There was still a possibility, but the chances were far lower.

Danny was hauled off to sit the night in a cell at the very least. A problem for another time at this point. Zach wanted to focus on getting her back in the house and settled for the night. Actually relax and not have to worry about anything at all.

Ushering her back into the house, the first thing that he did was make sure to remove any trace of Danny. The man had certainly made a mess of a few things. Zach knew that she wouldn't have ever stood for the beer cans laying around or the few articles of clothing that were tossed over furniture. That kept him busy and kept him moving. Preoccupied, really. That worked for a distraction while the silence between them stretched on. She hadn't said much, and it was driving him crazy. Anything would have been taken at that moment. Anger, happiness, anything. But there was nothing. He finally had to break it just to know what was going on in her head.

"Are you going to say anything?" It probably wasn't the right thing to say exactly, but it was what came to mind. A knee-jerk sort of response.

"What do you want me to say?" Her voice was soft, barely audible, but he managed to catch it. Shoulders fell, and he let out a small sigh before moving over to her.

"Anything, sweetheart. Anything at all." There was a hesitation to reach out to her like he wanted to, a nagging doubt in the back of his mind that had never been present during their entire friendship. He hated it. "Just...talk to me? Please?" If he hadn't been that close, he wouldn't have heard the sigh that slipped. Her eyes were focused down on the floor, not raising to look at him.

"I don't know what to say, Zach. I mean, you saw what happened, what he was like." She swallowed hard but didn't break. Not yet. "It's a lot to have to process, and I don't even know where to start." That was understandable and couldn't be argued. Getting over the doubt, he reached out and rested a hand against her shoulder, giving a small squeeze.

"You know that I'm here for whatever you need. I'm sorry about having to force my way in here before. It's not what I wanted to do, but I was worried about you."

"I know, thank you." After a second, she leaned forward and wrapped her arms around him. Zach immediately returned the hug, holding her close and tightly.

"I'm sorry."

"You don't have anything to be sorry for, Zach. He would still be here." Her body went slack against him further, her head resting against his shoulder, face practically in the crook of his neck.

"You deserve so much more than that, sweetheart." This was not the time that he needed to be doing this, but the words were beginning to flow without thought. He couldn't stop it now that it had started. "Someone who knows just how special you are and can appreciate everything about you." She sniffled, and his heart skipped a beat. He hadn't intended to have her cry.  She didn't say anything right away either, making him a little worried that he had indeed said the wrong thing. A little more sniffling as he held his breath, all before she was finally speaking.

"I know that, at least logically. It didn't start out like this."

"It never does. None of that is your fault. You know that, right?" He needed to hear that she knew that. She would be carrying around enough as it was. She didn't need the extra burden.

"I know that. I'm just upset that I let it get this far to begin with. I should have kicked his ass out weeks ago." He could feel the shudder that ran through her and, in response, tightened his arms around her frame. Reassurance was only going to do so much. Thankfully, she was calming down. Zach felt grateful for that, at the very least. It was something. A few more moments passed by before she sighed and pulled back a little bit. "I don't know what I would do without you, Zach." Words that he appreciated and liked hearing, but they were not exactly what he was holding out hope for. He was jumping ahead of himself right now. After what had just happened, it was the last thing that should be on his mind.

"You know that I'm here for whatever you need. Anytime." The words were easier since they were genuine. He would do anything for her. Maybe one day, she would truly see that.

[another-whump-sideblog]

Jane's Pets Chapter 96: Resurrection

TWs in the tags

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You asked Barron about resurrection, once. You didn't really know if you'd want to use it if it did exist, but you were curious, and none of its books mentioned it. You also felt smart for figuring that if it did exist it would require the death of someone else to do, since magic cares so much about balance, and wanted to see if you were right.

"Once someone's dead, they're gone." It said. "At least, that's a foundational assumption we mages make in order to better understand magic, like the whole balance thing. It's possible we're wrong, but assumptions like that tend to lead us in the right direction when it comes to tinkering and stuff, which implies there's at least some truth to it. So, assuming our fundamental understanding of magic is correct, you could puppet around a corpse, but the person they used to be will never exist in that form again. Maybe you could describe vampirism as a form of resurrection, but I wouldn't. Vampires who are turned aren't the same person they were as a human. There are also some mages who claim that ghosts are real, but given how magic resists attempts to prove its existence and how ghosts aren't solid and observable in the way fae, vampires, and other species are, it's hard to tell."

You nodded. "Would puppeting a corpse require killing someone?"

It raised its eyebrows.

"I'm not planning on doing it! I just guessed that the cost of a spell like that would be death and wanted to check if I'm understanding the balance and cost stuff correctly."

"Oh, that makes sense. A spell that allowed you to continuely puppet a corpse would require that, yes, but more temporary ones have easier costs to bear. Not that I think it would really ever be worth it, what would you even get out of that?"

You nodded. All this talk about puppeting was starting to make you think about the brand on your arm, and you'd rather not think about that.

"Is there any way to communicate with the dead?"

"Maybe. Like I said, it's hard to tell. Even mages who argue you can claim that it's so different from talking to the living it's hard to get much out of it."

You couldn't help but be disappointed. It would be so wonderful to be able to talk to your dad again…

Now, of course, you wish you could talk to Diya, Barron, and Ray again as well. It's good you found out it wasn't possible before they died, or else you'd probably spend the rest of your life trying.

You can't think about them right now. Once someone's dead, they're gone. You need to focus on the living.

Resurrection not existing can be a bit of a comfort, too. Once Jane and you are dead, you'll be gone completely, never able to hurt anyone again.

–

"Come here Kitty, it's time for your medicine."

Kitty shows no sign that they heard Jane. They seem captivated by the puzzle they're trying to solve.

Jane appears right next to them before you can do anything. "Kitty." Her tone is warning.

Kitty carefully places another piece with a shaking hand and doesn't look up. Oh. They're not captivated. They're doing this on purpose.

You open your mouth to say something, to try and convince Kitty that if they can just hold on until your hands heal they'll be able to be themself again, but Jane speaks first.

She grabs their face bruisingly. "Bad ki-"

"No! No no no no, stop it! Stop it, don't touch me!"

Jane slaps them hard across the face. She's not angry, though. She's smiling wide. "Uh oh… you know saying no to me is against the rules. You know being noncompliant is against the rules. I've put in all this work, and it seems like… you're just untrainable." Her voice drips with disappointment, but she's still smiling.

Kitty tries to punch her, and she easily teleports out of the way. "Puppy? Help me get Kitty downstairs and restrained."

Jane grabs them by the hair and touches their collar, making it instantly disappear into her void. Puppy comes from the kitchen grabs Kitty's legs. They thrash and scream, but Jane and Puppy get them down the stairs easily. After a moment of hesitation, you follow. Maybe you can convince Jane to lighten the punishment, or take their place.

"Master-"

"Nope!" Jane finishes hanging Kitty from the ceiling with Puppy's help. "Both of you are going to go upstairs and out into the backyard. I have a job for you, I'll be out to tell you what it is in a minute."

Puppy immediately goes back upstairs and pulls you along by the elbow. You'd shake her off, but it doesn't look like negotiating will help this situation. Best to just obey so you don't risk them being punished for your misbehavior.

It's a nice day. Puppy's been tending to your garden after breaking your hands, so you haven't been going outside as much as you used to, but you really should be spending time outside anyway. It makes everything feel more manageable when you get fresh air and sunlight.

Jane appears with two shovels in her hands. "I need you guys to dig a hole. As deep as you can go, and about as wide as a twin mattress. Can you do that?"

"Yes, master." You say on autopilot. You're… not going to be able to do that with your broken hands, but she knows that. Luckily, she doesn't seem upset at the obvious lie.

Puppy nods.

"Excellent!" She throws a shovel at you and the other at Puppy with much more force than necessary. Obviously, you're unable to catch yours. Ow. Puppy catches hers gracefully.

Jane is gone by the time you look back up, so you turn to Puppy.

"I won't be able to dig. Maybe I can kick some dirt around, but besides that I think I'll just be moral support. Is that okay?"

Puppy nods. She looks pretty shaky… and now that you're paying attention, you notice her face is pale and her eyes are full of tears.

"Hey, what's wrong? I mean-" How can you figure out what's wrong with just yes or no questions? "Are you upset about helping Jane restrain Kitty? You know that's not your fault. Neither is my hands being broken. It's okay."

That doesn't seem to comfort her. She wipes her eyes and stabs at the ground with her shovel.

"Is it that you feel bad about hurting me or Kitty?"

She shakes her head.

"Huh. Does it have to do with digging this hole?"

She gives one short nod, tears streaming down her face.

"Are you… upset that I can't help?"

She shakes her head.

You decide you should be able to figure it out from there. You wonder why Jane's just giving you busywork. Is it just busywork? That's not the kind of thing she normally does, and wouldn't she want you to have to hear Kitty screaming and not be able to do anything about it? She loves doing that stuff. And why does she want the hole a specific width, why would that matter if this is just-

Oh fuck, oh fuck. She's having you dig a grave.

Puppy throws you to the ground and pins you before you can even think about running in to stop Jane.

"OW- Wha- Puppy, we can't just let her kill them!" You could fight her off if you needed to, and you will if it comes to that. But first you want to try talking to her. "Please, I know you don't want them to die. We can't do nothing!"

She seems to consider that for a moment, then shakes her head.

"Puppy…" You can't wait any longer. You shove her off of you and run inside.

You leap over the couch and get to the basement door in seconds. You try to twist the doorknob using your elbow, but it stays in place. The door is locked.

That's fine, the door is still breakable. You run at it and ram your shoulder into it over and over again with all the force you can muster, but it doesn't seem to help. You kick it as hard as you can everywhere you can reach that you think might have weakpoints. Wood starts to crack, so you keep kicking until there's a hole in the door.

There's metal beneath the wood.

"No!" You scream and pound on the door with your fists. "Stop it, don't kill them, take me instead!"

There's no response. You run to the kitchen and grab the heaviest pot you can find, then run back and start banging it against the doorknob- the door doesn't need to break, just the doorknob- but that doesn't work either. You can't grip it tightly enough to bang with any real force with just your elbows.

"Puppy! Please, I can't do this without you!"

You turn to look out into the backyard and see Puppy curled up on the ground, sobbing and twitching, why is she-

The collar, her sobbing set off the collar, damn it! You scream in frustration. With the twitching and the shaking, she probably wouldn't be able to get a good grip on the pot either, even if she wants to.

You- you need a spell, there's got to be a spell that can break down the door! But- your hands-

Thinking about your hands again, you realize they're in agony. You might've re-broken them pounding on the door, shit shit shit!

"No no no no no no-" You can't lose them too. This is all your fault, again, and you can't do anything to help. If Jane's decided she's going to kill Kitty, she's going to kill Kitty, and there's nothing you can do about it.

You waited too long. You should've been trying a new spell every day, should've been attacking Jane at every opportunity, should've comforted Kitty well enough that they didn't feel the need to to be noncompliant to regain their autonomy- this is all your fault!

Now that you're not screaming, you can hear Kit crying out every once in a while from the basement. They're still alive, and you still can't do anything. You pound on the door weakly again.

They're going to die. They're going to die and it's going to be all your fault.

You lean against the door and sob and sob as the light coming through the windows slowly fades. At some point, Puppy manages to stop crying and starts working on digging their grave again. It's all she can do. And you can't even do that. You can't do anything. Cold wind comes through the open back door. You can't hear Kitty downstairs anymore.

"Aren't dogs supposed to be good at digging? This isn't nearly deep enough."

You whirl around at the sound of Jane's voice. She's looking down at the (admittedly fairly small) hole with her arms crossed, but a satisfied smile is on her face. Puppy looks near passing out.

A horrible thought occurs to you. She was never going to bury them anyway. She's going to force you and Kitty to eat their bodies. This really was just busywork.

Jane looks over to you and tsks. "And what have you done to that poor door? That's not what I told you to do."

"Where's Kitty?" Your voice is hoarse.

"...In the basement? Where else would they be?" The smug smile never leaves her face for a second.

"Y-you… Can I see them?"

She giggles. "If you want to. You won't be able to talk to them, though. They're dead."

You knew that on some level, but hearing it still sends the world crashing down around you. You can barely breathe. Not again, not again-

You can hear Puppy wailing, distantly, and Jane laughing.

You failed. The only thing keeping you going was the determination to save them and you failed. Even if you manage to kill Jane now, you and Puppy will never be okay, never be able to get past this. You'll live the rest of your lives with gaping holes in your hearts, and neither of you have enough left to compensate for it. You'll be empty forever.

From the other side of the basement door, you hear the click of Jane unlocking it.

"Well, do you want to see them or not?"

You stumble down the stairs in a haze, and Puppy follows close behind.

Kitty is still hanging from the ceiling. Their feet are in some sort of tub-

Their chest rises and falls. They're breathing.

"Kitty!" Your voice comes out as more of a scream. You run to them and wrap your arms around their body. "Kitty, Kitty, I thought you were dead, I thought-" You can't speak through the sobs wracking your body.

Kitty's eyes slowly open. "Wha-?"

Jane is laughing so hard you can hear her struggling to breathe. Puppy is at your side, gently tugging on your shoulder. Right, Kitty doesn't like to be touched, and they can't push you away right now.

"Sh-She- I thought you were dead- she had us dig your grave!"

"I'm… sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for, nothing, it's all her, I'm just so glad you're alive-" You want to hug them so badly but you know that they probably wouldn't like that. 

"You really thought- you really thought I wouldn't make you watch the whole time if I was actually killing them!" Jane wheezes.

You don't care. You don't care what she does or what she says, as long as Kitty's alive.

"I'm going to kill her. Soon." You say softly. Kitty doesn't react, but Puppy…

Puppy looks at you with steely determination in her eyes and nods.

A/N: Man, this one was fun to write. Originally it was going to be titled 'Death' just to be mean but I figured I'd give some hints that Kitty wasn't actually going to die. I didn't plan on this landing on April 1st but what a fun coincidence! Let me know if I should tag anything else, or if you want to be added to or removed from the tag list! Next chapter is the season finale!!

Tag list: @eatyourdamnpears @whump-in-the-closet @scp-1296 @thecosmicmap @quins-whump-stuff

@fuckcapitalismasshole

[rosanna-writer]

Our Song - A Gwynriel Songfic

Just a short songfic based on Taylor Swift's "Our Song" for Day Two of Gwyn Appreciation Week - Song Association

Originally I didn't have anything planned for today but the song came on at work, and I thought it would be fun to write something a little meta :)

The full fic is below the cut!

@gwynweekofficial

I was ridin' shotgun with my hair undone

In the front seat of his car

On yet another night that Gwyn and Azriel couldn't sleep, she found herself in his arms in the skies above Velaris. It happened less frequently now, but there were still nights like this, and they'd taken to flying once they'd given both up on attempting to sleep. The cool night air sometimes did them more good than trying and failing to rest.

He's got a one-hand feel on the steering wheel

The other on my heart

There was nowhere Gwyn would rather be than curled up against Azriel's chest with the city spread out beneath them. Even when they placed bets about how much free fall she could take before she screamed or if Az would beat his fastest time from one end of the city to the other, this felt like the safest place in the world.

I look around, turn the radio down

He says, "Baby, is something wrong?"

Tonight, though, they just made lazy loops around the city in companionable to silence. Gwyn might be able to draw Azriel out better than anyone else, but she didn't always need to.

After a while, Az glanced down at her and said, "Everything alright?"

I say, "Nothing, I was just thinkin' how we don't have a song"

And he says

It was, and Gwyn knew he'd know if it wasn't, but it was in his nature to confirm everything, not to make assumptions. Azriel didn't leave things to chance.

"Completely fine," she said, giving him a smile. "I was just thinking that for all the singing we do, it's a bit strange we don't have a song, isn't it?"

Our song is the slamming screen door

Sneakin' out late, tapping on your window

"It's probably for the best. Anything distinctive is predictable and easy to track."

Gwyn rolled her eyes and wondered if there was anything in the world he couldn't relate back to espionage. "Azriel. Not everything in life is about being sneaky."

When we're on the phone, and you talk real slow

'Cause it's late, and your mama don't know

"Not everything. But quite a lot."

His voice was deadpan, but Gwyn could read Azriel well enough to spot the barest hint of a smile on his face. He knew what he was doing, being pedantic just to rile her up a bit.

And Gwyn wouldn't give him the satisfaction of rising to the bait.

Instead, she just changed the subject and said, "Now that I think about it though, I wonder if you could use music to pass coded messages."

Azriel hummed thoughtfully, and Gwyn could feel it rumble in his chest. "A bit difficult to communicate much detail when there's only seven notes in a scale to work with, though."

If he wanted pedantic tonight, he'd get pedantic. Gwyn smiled.

"Actually there are twelve in a chromatic scale."

"That's still less than half the letters in the alphabet. My point still stands."

Our song is the way you laugh

The first date, "Man, I didn't kiss her, and I should have"

That was enough to consider it a draw. They lapsed back into comfortable silence and watched the city fly by underneath them.

Eventually Gwyn—completely incapable of letting anything go as always—said, "We really should have a song, though. And for the record, telling me having a song is predictable might be the least romantic thing you've ever said to me."

"Don't worry, I'm sure I'll outdo myself soon."

Gwyn laughed at that, then rested her head on the space between Azriel's head and shoulder. It fit perfectly, as if she was made to be there.

"There aren't a lot of things that are more important than being sneaky, but that laugh is one of them, you know," Azriel added softly.

Gwyn didn't have a sarcastic response for that, just kissed him.

And when I got home, 'fore I said, "Amen"

Asking God if he could play it again

They didn't stay out much longer than that. The flight had done its job, tiring Azriel out enough to catch a few hours of sleep. Gwyn wasn't quite so lucky, but sleepless nights weren't as bad when she spent them curled up against his side, one wing covering her like an extra blanket. While she listened to him breathe, she hummed to herself quietly and got lost in thought about music theory and cryptology.

I was walkin' up the front porch steps after everything that day

Had gone all wrong and been trampled on

The next day, Gwyn was not nearly as content. After only a couple hours of sleep, training the next morning was miserable. She couldn't bring herself to skip it. Instead, she gritted her teeth and forced herself to keep going, even though she lost three sparring matches in a row and failed to block countless hits she should have dodged.

No one asked what was wrong—the bags under her eyes were answer enough.

And lost and thrown away

Got to the hallway, well on my way to my lovin' bed

It had been a horribly long day, and Gwyn had pushed herself to get through all of it. Azriel considered telling her to rest, but he knew Gwyn—she'd only dig her heels in more if he did.

So instead, he made sure to be home first, ready to take care of Gwyn when the exhaustion finally overtook her and she collapsed into bed.

I almost didn't notice all the roses

And the note that said

And just as he predicted, she took one look at the carefully tabbed and annotated book he'd left on the nightstand for her and decided she'd open it when she'd gotten some sleep. The vase of roses next to it made her smile though.

Azriel was patient. He could wait until Gwyn had rested up enough to find the note he'd left explaining that he'd annotated the songbook for her because there was no obvious choice of which song should be theirs.

He'd rather just give them all to her.

I've heard every album, listened to the radio

Waited for something to come along

That was as good as our song

After flipping through the entire book together, Gwyn and Azriel agreed there wasn't a single song that felt quite right. Gwyn was beyond caring—it was the best gift she'd ever received.

But still, the next day, she'd returned to the library and gotten her hands on every book about music theory and codebreaking that she could find. She was on a mission.

I was ridin' shotgun with my hair undone

In the front seat of his car

Gwyn and Azriel had a few more weeks of peace before insomnia struck again. Gwyn had her nose stuck in the library books she was still making her way through when Azriel said he couldn't sleep either. He suggested flying again, and she never turned that down.

Gwyn sang softly to herself as they flew. She almost didn't realize she was doing it until Azriel joined in.

I grabbed a pen and an old napkin

And I wrote down our song

Something about the sound of their voices together unknotted the problem. When they got back home, she didn't come to bed, just cracked open the notebook full of staff paper and grabbed a pen.

Azriel might have thought that music was an impractical means of encoding information, but Gwyn was sure that with a few tweaks, her system would work.

And there was no song that was sweeter than "I told you so."

[ostagars]

my thoughts on twc book 3

spoilers ahead! feel free to drop ur own opinions on things in my ask

anyways let’s get into it. this will be long-ish

so i will just say that book 3, much like the previous books, does read like a young adult fantasy book. which does kind of makes sense given mishka has said in the past that twc was going to be a book at first, iirc. also the amount of GRRRR GROWLING these vampires do........ like all the time

the blood drive... why was it included. i don't understand because it turned out to be such a Non-Problem. which it was never a problem to begin with, seeing as there are 2384923 legitimately normal reasons the detective could've come up with to Not participate in the drive. i genuinely would've loved for the auction to have lasted Wayyy longer and to have been wayyy more nerve-wracking than it actually was.

i do feel like the slow burn of M and A's routes have been...... Not as slow as i expected? while i did actually enjoy both of those routes, particularly M's, A's in particular felt... a bit ooc at times? in my opinion, the outward denial of A's feelings should've lasted longer, at least until book 4 or 5. especially since it's still only been, what, a few months since they all met? some of these vampires have lived for centuries. they wouldn't just Give up on repressing the feelings and admitting them after less than a year of knowing the detective?? especially when there's 7 books in total planned. there's still plenty of time

i feel like a love confession with F would've made more sense than with N. i really wish we were given the option with F, and not with N. i also have a lot of grievances with N's route in this book, particularly because they can admit their feelings to the detective while still omitting the part of themself they apparently don't want us to Ever Know. i understand the fear N has. it's just like...........,,,, how can N love the detective ALREADY when they can't even be completely honest with them about their past yet? in my opinion, it'd make more sense for a love confession to come after N telling the detective everything.

in terms of the tina bff route, @cekorax referenced something to me that made me even more uncomfortable with the flirting between tina and the agent sent to watch over her undercover as a police officer. firstly, it just feels weird, consent feels to be an issue here since tina doesn't Know they're an agent. and they're flirting with her. what my friend mentioned specifically was something that happened in the uk: undercover policemen sent to spy on activists ended up Marrying them. obviously we don't rly know where their ""relationship"" is gonna go (we CAN make likely assumptions tho lol) but it does make me nervous if this person is to be tina's love interest

rebecca............... i feel like there's usually 2 ways people feel about the relationship she has with the detective, and it seems to come down to one's personal experience. in my opinion, the detective holding something over rebecca's head that happened on their birthday at age 7 is a bit odd. but again this is coming from me, someone who did not have a parent who was similar to rebecca in any way. i will add i would've liked to have the choice of the detective to choose not to say anything about it, because mine wouldn't have even thought about it????? idk it just felt weird to me

lastly, i personally would have preferred to choose whether to stay detective & human liaison rather than have No Choice and have to become an agent. most of my detectives would've declined the offer. it kind of felt out of left field for me, i was veeery surprised when i read that scene. i didn't expect it

ok thank u for ur time <3

[theuntoldoriginsoftheportmafia]

Part Ⅱ The Doctor, The Butterfly & The Wolf - Chapter 3.2

The Other Brother

912 Words

~ 6 weeks before the end of The Great War ~

Tachihara Shunzen never wanted to kill mindlessly, only fight for his nation and the ideals he believes in. Chief Medic Mori sparing him feels like a miracle. He owes the Chief Medic and Yosano-san his life. If he ever sees them again he'll do something nice for them.

When he steps off the boat back into the port of his home city it feels like coming home from outer space. He kisses the ground, not caring about the stares he gets. He has a family and a 4-year-old brother to get home to.

He hops in the first taxi cab he finds, not minding the expensive price for the distance from the port to the house in the city neighbourhood.

-

He hurries up the drive when he hears screaming.

"Why can't you be a good boy like your brother? What are you here for, just to be a hooligan? Why couldn't it have been him and not you, huh? Why don't you just die?"

Not bothering to knock, he enters the house to find his mother screaming at his younger brother, Michizou, the young boy sniffling back tears.

He jumps in front of his brother just as his mother raises her hand. "Mum? What are you talking about? What did he do?"

She sees him, her eyes widening but she can't stop and the hand crashes against her eldest's face. Having felt much worse, he doesn't flinch.

"Shunzen? You're alive! Oh, thank god! We thought you had died, I-"

He cuts her off, angry, disappointed. "Were you really going to hit a 4-year-old? Why?"

" . . . I–"

"And telling him to just die? Apologise!"

Michizou cowers. He's used to his parents yelling, but not his brother, even if it is in his defence.

"I'm sorry! We thought you were dead! Your last letter was like goodbye . . . and here you are, just fine." The apology is insincere and she's changing the subject.

"That's no excuse!" Shunzen turns to his brother, his face softening, "What did you, Michi?"

Michizou knows his brother wouldn't hurt him. "I got dirt on the floor." He says it with defiance, his big toddler eyes as narrow as they'll go, chin tilted up. Michizou can't bring himself to be sorry. He's gotten so tired of hearing about his perfect brother when he just wants him to actually be here that he's stopped caring about behaving.

Shunzen turns back to his mother, "Dirt? All that for a little dirt?"

Their mother has nothing to say for herself.

Shunzen picks up Michizou and takes him to the bathroom to wipe the mud off his clothes and face.

"Does Mum do that a lot?" he asks, trying to be casual as he takes a gentle cloth over his brother's face.

Michizou nods. "Dad, too. We thought you died."

It's a fair assumption. Given that he was so desperate to be home, the last letter almost sounded like a suicide note and then he didn't get time to write anymore

"No, I'm just fine, and I'm here now. So you don't have to worry about anything okay."

Michizou hugs his brother tightly, ignoring the pain it causes his bruises. He's too happy to have his brother back. Maybe now that he's here Mummy won't be mad all the time?

-

Shunzen sees his brother's bruises when he gets him ready for bed, not trusting his mother or father to be with the boy.

Fingerprint-shaped bruises on his arms from being grabbed, and various other purplish-yellow marks on his back.

After Michizou is safe in bed, Shunzen confronts his parents. He's never been one for making a big scene but he's furious.

"You know I always suspected that maybe he wasn't the favourite, but I never thought you'd do something like this. Is there a reason you've been beating up on him or do you just enjoy it?"

"Shunzen, dear, you misunderstand. He's such a rascal, always misbehaving, nothing like you at all. He'll probably end up a garbage collector or in jail if we don't beat it out of him now"

"He's four. I think sending him to bed early without dinner would do the job." Shunzen walks off, stopping the argument there so his parents don't suspect a thing.

-

They have no idea that anything is amiss when Shunzen wakes his brother. They're ignorant when he packs suitcases with their clothes, toothbrushes and Michizou's few baby books. They haven't a clue when the car starts.

"What are we doing?" Michizou asks

"We're leaving."

"Where?"

"I don't know yet, but anywhere away from here?"

"Away from Mummy and Daddy?"

"Yes. They're not going to stop hitting you. I know you might still love them, but we can't stay. You'll understand better when you're older. For now, you just have to trust me. Can you do that?"

"Yeah!"

"Okay." Shunzen smiles as he turns out of the neighbourhood.

Michizou kicks his feet excitedly, holding as carefully as he can onto his brother's old piggy bank which now contains all the cash that was in the house. Shunzen doesn't relish the thought of stealing but there wasn't much and his parents can do fine on their own.

By the time the sun rises the two boys are out of the city.

Shunzen doesn't know where he's going but it needs to be as far as he can get while still staying in civilization. He's heard of good, easily affordable universities in a city called Yokohama, so he'll start there.

(A/N: I know such a young child probably can't speak that well but I didn't feel like writing baby talk so here you go.)

[snow-system-wol]

Another perspective on the "Fray Incident", and a necessary follow up conversation. A rather unpleasant encounter followed by a far softer one.

(References events from both the Fray Incident and recent Exarch POV.)

Ao3

[choking, mild injuries, referenced past (unintentional) self-harm]

“While I hardly have the time to check in constantly, I nonetheless cannot help myself from wanting to be sure of your continued survival.”

The sentiment came from a place of genuine relief, and slight embarassment, but truly it was a mercy to have S'ria whole and unharmed back in his Ocular. He was not paying incredibly close attention to what he was saying, but it seemed quite harmless and inoffensive. Perhaps not, though.

The Exarch knew he'd made a mistake of some sort the second the words left his mouth, with S'ria's eyes going cold. He'd never truly been scared of the Warrior of Light before, only awed, but – striding quickly towards him like this, the Exarch had a flash of genuine fear.

Perhaps warranted, as S'ria shoved him into the wall just adjacent to the portal. His hand closed around the Exarch's throat and – he'd always thought S'ria's hands looked deceptively delicate, but he'd never felt the wrongness of that assumption as keenly as he did now.

The Exarch was… fairly certain that S'ria would struggle to kill him like this, in the heart of his tower and with crystal half protecting his neck. That logic did not stop the instinctive panic of his breathing being restricted, grabbing at S'ria's arm for leverage and keeping the toes of his sandals on the floor as much as possible.

S'ria closed much of the space between them. Like this, the Exarch and S'ria were nearly face to face, with him partially lifting the Exarch and closing some of that height gap. He makes some sort of growl, low and threatening, and the Exarch quite frankly wasn't aware that a miqo'te could make that sound. He almost missed it when S'ria started to speak.

“The room you gave S'ria.”

It was harsh, flat, nothing like the man the Exarch knew. Even before the Exarch noticed the third person referral to S'ria, he already had his suspicions about what may have been happening. He hadn't expected the tales to actually be true though, even if they were rather pervasive.

The Exarch's head was entirely full trying to process the smoothness with which S'ria had been replaced, so much so that he nearly forgot anything had been said. 

The Exarch swallowed before trying to respond and – gods, it felt awful, to be honest, the bony shift of cartilage against a chokehold. “I don't… follow?”

At least the pressure didn't increase, but he could feel the increase in anger and frustration from – well, he knew who this was, right? If the accounts were true, this must be that missing piece of the puzzle that had eluded him, trying to understand what people had possibly meant about this Fray.

Upon meeting them, the Exarch thought he understood a little more, about how obvious it must have been in those accounts that this was not the same person as S'ria.

“The room”, and the Exarch can feel their hand twitch, “have you been watching?”

“Wh–”

The Exarch didn't even quite get the whole word out before he understood exactly what had Fray so aggressive. He worried that he had given the wrong impression, the way he venerated S'ria, and he could easily see why Fray so belatedly realizing that the Exarch could scry anywhere with impunity might… bring about some mistrust. He wouldn't… as much as he wanted to check on S'ria's safety, intentionally trying to satisfy some crude curiosity was unthinkable.

He should have clarified this from the beginning, that he'd had such a thing at his disposal but promised not to use it for ill.

(Or would that have been worse, to so blatantly stoke paranoia without any way to tell if he broke the promise?)

The Exarch tried his best to shake his head. “No! No, I would… never…”

S'ria had been through enough. He would not add to that.

Fray leaned in, so terrifyingly close. Close enough that it made the Exarch realize, with a sort of wry irony, that this may well have been the first time “S'ria” had ever touched bare skin on him. Close enough, too, that it made the Exarch's eyes lock onto Fray's in alarm.

He knew S'ria's eyecolor. Perhaps embarrassingly well. That wasn't it. They were lighter and brighter – in truth, the Exarch wanted to pretend he did not notice the change since arriving here and put any implications of that well out of mind.

Fray's eyes widened and the eye contact somehow felt painfully exposing and – oh fuck.

In his utter distraction of racing thoughts and being strangled, he'd lost focus on his glamour for just long enough for Fray to briefly tear it away. It was only for a moment before he put the active effort in to fully restore it, but it felt like it was far too long.

They had to have seen.

Maybe Fray was a new tagalong, not present during the days of G'raha Tia.

Maybe there was no danger of losing his painfully kept anonymity.

Fray let go of his throat, with at least the decorum to let the Exarch use their arm as support for the few seconds needed to kneel gently – as opposed to fully collapsing. The gratitude only lasted long enough for the Exarch to realize he needed to retract his claws from their arm, that his fingers were wet, and then it was replaced with horror. The Exarch hadn't even noticed doing that – he wasn't sure if he'd dug new injuries into S'ria's skin or reopened the half-healed injuries already there. He wiped his hand on his robe as if hiding the evidence meant it'd not happened.

Fray seemed entirely unbothered by the injury, just stepping well away as if they'd rather get away from the situation.

By the time Lyna was fussing over him, having dashed to him the second Fray backed away, whatever change seemed to have reverted. S'ria was clutching his bleeding arm, staring at the Exarch with a look of confused guilt on his face, already starting to ramble apologies. Oh dear, S'ria really didn't remember all that, did he? 

“I apologize. For the accusation.” It was a painfully stiff delivery, but it at least sounded honest.

 ----------

“I want to talk about what happened, before we set out from the Crystarium again.”

The Exarch sat at the table in S'ria's room, looking somehow distinctly uncomfortable with actually being inside and even more uncomfortable with S'ria sitting at his side. Upon hearing S'ria's words, he looked up with a smile.

“If you have called me here to apologize again, pray do not concern yourself.”

S'ria gave him a wry look. “That is not all I have to say, but I will still apologize. I may not remember it, but I hurt you – and could've badly harmed you – so I am still… very very sorry for that. I do not know what the problem was, but you could not have said anything to justify violence.”

The Exarch chuckled with little mirth. “No, the fault is truly mine, for making it so difficult for you to trust my intentions. I simply hope that you and Fray both are satisfied that I mean you no harm.”

S'ria frowned at him, wholy unsatisfied with such a response. “I believe we are, but – there are others who deserve this more than you. I worry the anger was… misdirected in frustration.”

There was a long moment of silence in which it was obvious that the Exarch was fighting the urge to ask about recent events, but it was likely for the best that he decided not to. Too delicate a moment by far.

With no immediate response given, S'ria continued. “No, what I wanted to talk to you about… well, Fray themself. As interesting of a misconception you've gotten, I'm nervous it'll cause more problems than it'll fix. I just hope a half-explanation will be good enough.”

“No explanation at all would be good enough, any more than that is not to be taken for granted.”

S'ria wished somewhat that the Exarch would be a bit less charitable. It threw him off-guard every time.

“It really isn't anything so – I just don't want you to go around thinking I'm possessed by something and getting any unnecessary concerns about it later. Fray is just part of me, not something that could just be banished or some entity with schemes of their own." It was an odd feeling for him. That was the first time S'ria had ever openly accepted that link between them, at least in those words. "And I do not know of a single other time they've intentionally harmed an ally so… I don't think that there is any danger – though I'd understand if you had your doubts.”

The Exarch still seemed relatively calm and still unworried. “If they do not see me as an ally, then I dare say that streak remains unbroken.” Despite the calmness, there was a palpable amount of sadness seeping into his voice.

S'ria looked stricken. “I don't think that there is any remaining confusion about that, not on their part. But truly, I am so sorry for –”

The Exarch did not even audibly shush him, simply held a finger up to his lips in a motion that made S'ria cut off the moment he saw it.

“I shall have none of that. Fray may have gotten aggressive with me, yes, but you were entirely uninvolved – and yet I have left you with injuries.”

S'ria's expression was unreadable, caught somewhere between disbelief and something vulnerable.

The Exarch slowly lifted two upturned palms, kept low and well away from S'ria.

“Will you at least permit me to right that wrong?”

S'ria's breath caught in his throat. The smart thing to do would probably be to say no, given the other factors still in play. And yet, whether it be some lingering softness towards the shy scholar who'd told him stories by the fire years ago or just a desire for kindness in the moment, he did not refuse.

S'ria's coat was already off, leaving his arms mostly bare, so there was little more to do than just lean forward and place his arm in the Exarch's waiting hands. Based on the stifled gasp he heard, the Exarch had not expected him to agree either. Belatedly, S'ria realized he hadn't actually needed to go so far – it wasn't as if the Exarch actually needed to touch him. This was, perhaps, excessively intimate – but not quite uncomfortably so.

“May I?”

He was even waiting for verbal permission, despite how clear the motion had been? S'ria nodded and felt another pang of guilt over Fray's paranoid aggression, merely over how wrong they'd been.

The Exarch gently turned S'ria's arm to inspect it – deep gouges from his still clawed hand, bruises in the shape of his crystalline hand, and, of course, a slightly more healed version of the sight he'd glimpsed before at Holminster Switch.

(The Exarch was unsure if it was better or worse than he'd thought from that brief accidental glance, but the mess of claw marks was…extensive. It was frankly a wonder nothing had become infected, but S'ria must've at least taken care of the injuries after whatever incident – he was uncertain which set of injuries he felt worse about.)

The Exarch's face was calm and blank as he handled S'ria's arm, and that was somehow both immensely reassuring and terrifying at the same time. After all, S'ria knew exactly what he was allowing the Exarch to inspect – and the man was hardly dense.

The sudden glow and warm wash of healing magic was mostly familiar – though the feeling of it was not. 

Normally it stung at least a little (if not more than a little), but this was painless. Perhaps it was that injuries this small were rarely healed, perhaps a century of studying magic really did work wonders.

Beneath the obscuring light, the injuries inflicted by the Exarch disappeared. He wordlessly continued to heal the others, healed to the faintest of lines. Almost like such a mistake had never happened.

S'ria drew his arm back, fingertips still tingling from the hum of magic. The Exarch smiled up at him, shy and nervous.

“Might you allow me to do the same with the other?”

The brief panic that rose in S'ria made him freeze. He was tempted to insist that it was fine, the Exarch had done no harm on that side, so there was nothing to concern himself with. Ah, he really wasn't managing to hide the situation from the Exarch at all, was he?

It wasn't meant to be acknowledged – and while the Exarch breathed not a word of worry or judgment, this in of itself was acknowledgement. 

In lieu of trying to explain himself or dig himself into a conversation he wished to avoid, he simply offered the Exarch his other arm. S'ria could've almost crawled out of his skin watching him gently inspect the extent of it, without the excuse of pretending he was only looking at the injuries he'd dealt Fray.

S'ria relaxed suddenly, as the healing began. It took several moments to realize part of his reaction was from recognizing the faint out-of-practice purr from the Exarch's chest. He probably was worried about soothing S'ria's anxiety, but S'ria doubted he was quite aware that he was doing that – given that the miqo'te thing was ostensibly still a secret.

It was still more pleasant than it had any right to be, after not hearing the sound for quite some time. The Exarch finished his healing, leaving only mostly unmarred skin in his wake (and he still didn't ask any questions, thank the gods). The purring was still ongoing and the feeling of his thumb absentmindedly tracing S'ria's arm was both far more pleasant and far less alarming than he'd expected.

He was half tempted to ask for those things back, the chaste touch and rusty rumbles both, but – much as the Exarch refrained from asking if he'd harmed himself, S'ria was not meant to draw attention to the rapidly unraveling mystery of the Crystal Exarch's identity. So it goes.

All nice things come to an end, as the Exarch's distraction did not last long. He pulled his hands away from S'ria and cleared his throat, killing the purrs before they could continue.

[asherlockstudy]

There was a little strange moment in the “do we know how he look” GMM. I am quoting from memory so it is not going to be the exact words perhaps, but it will be the exact meaning.

Rhett was looking at himself at that special, non-reversed 3D mirror. Link asked him if it felt to him like he was dating that guy (the Rhett in the mirror).

Rhett: I wouldn’t date this man….. That’s because I wouldn’t date a man.

Link’s face fell a bit but it was only a slight change.

Link: That is YOUR prerogative but-

Rhett: I wouldn’t date a woman because I am married, man!

Link immediately perked up.

Link: Thaaat’s the ticket!!!

Rhett shook his head, a little done, a little affectionately.

So... what did happen here? Based on what we factually know, Rhett wasn't saying anything big when he said he wouldn't date a man, right? Aren't they straight men who straight? Why was Link annoyed and why Rhett essentially had to say the problem is he's married and not that the person is a man or woman for Link to approve of it? Link literally made Rhett to declare himself bi. In other words, this was the exchange:

Rhett: I wouldn't date a man because no homo-

Link: Okay maybe YOU'RE backpedaling once more by hiding behind your het attraction -

Rhett: No I am not backpedaling, I'm bi but I am committed!!!

Link: Muuuch better :)))

The thing however is that initially, it did seem like Rhett backpedalled. Let's be real, the assumption that he could date...uhhh... himself was purely theory therefore it didn't matter whether he was married or not. He added this quickly to ease Link's nerves. But "I wouldn't date a man" is a very clear statement on its own.

There are two explanations here that I can think of:

a) Rhett did backpedal because it wasn't an episode where they had agreed to go heavy on implications, given that their wives were featured.

b) Rhett told the truth, which makes Link uncomfortable. Rhett has been making bi jokes but in other occasions he seems to also genuinely pass as hetero. This could bring back the possibility of heteroflexible Rhett or bi Rhett with a great preference towards women and essentially means that Link is an exception to the rule for him or where he unleashes all his flexibility. This, however, might make Link feel insecure instead of flattered. If he has Rhett as heteroflexible in his mind rather than as bisexual, he might be worried that Rhett isn't as happy in their relationship or that he secretly would still rather be with a woman. Which is why Rhett probably made the silent decision to come out (when the time comes) as bi, so that he will be better understood by both Link and other people. But maybe this is not what exactly he feels about himself. If suddenly Jessie and Link disappeared from his life, it's more likely he would go back to dating women first again.

[dogsliampaynedoesntinstagram]

Harry and his team won’t want Harry being asked about politics. That has third rail potential. I wonder how the genocide in Gaza is impacting their decisions about when to release music. I doubt he or his team want him asked about Israel either. I could see them doing something they can use to imply he supports First Nations people and against settler colonialism with him saying anything directly. A bit like his interaction with that Texan politician a couple of years ago or his appearance with Stormzy in 2019.

I didn't fully go into it answering the last anon - but I think Palestine is a big question here - and may even have played into the decision not to release this spring (although given how packed it ended up being he probably would have delayed anyway).

My working assumption with Harry is that prior to Israel's latest actions in Gaza he supported the state of Israel. But that support did not translate into meaningful public action, like playing Tel Aviv, because he was afraid of the backlash.

I don't know what he thinks now - he's got eyes and some humanity, so we can only hope his understanding has shifted, but there's no way of knowing.

What is clear is that there has been a massive shift in his audience - many people who felt uncertainty have taken a position of solidarity with Palestineand far more people see Palestine as a crucial issue. The risks to Harry of expressing his views on Palestine have increased greatly.

Joe Biden is a key perpetrator of Palestinian genocide, while he was the candidate I think any discussion of the US election would have been seen as risky. I don't think Kamala Harris is or will be any better than Biden, but at the moment it feels genocide isn't as active a part of her every political move as it is for Biden (many things may happen over the next few months).

I think disagree with you slightly - in that I don't have cynical view of the things Harry actually ends up saying about politics. It's the things he doesn't say that I'm cynical about.

For example, I think 'fuck the government and fuck Boris' was a reasonably genuine expression of his beliefs. I wouldn't be surprised that he was so silent up to that point was because he was afraid his views on Corbyn would alienate his audience (as part of the audience who would be alienated). Although it's also possible that his views weren't that developed and he's just generally terrified of making political statements.

I think if he was going to make a statement about indigenous people - I would assume that was reasonable genuine. He took significant steps forward when he was in New Zealand and Australia last year. And the fact that he had a strong supporter of tino rangatiratanga as part of his traveling party - makes me think he knew what he was doing.