#fitz i love you but you are a mess

[twicetolivetwicetodie]

Fitz every time Fool leaves:

[femmefitz]

There were a few parts of the Tawny Man trilogy that felt like Robin Hobb was trying to gaslight me about how much sense it made for Fitz to stay the hell away from the Farseers for some time.

Like respectfully ma'am I don't think Nighteyes would tell her she was failing her family by refusing to be in service to them. Nighteyes is flawed as any other character but I think as someone who shared a mind with Fitz he simply Would Not Say That.

[samuelsdean]

If you won't do it, I will.

pairing: spencer reid x reader

summary: you were so engrossed with images of you kissing Reid and him kissing you back that you forgot one detail—the man could wake up at any moment without you noticing. and he did wake up. You just failed to notice, too busy ogling his pink lips.

genre: fluff & angst

word count: 3.7k

author's notes: another tooth-rotting spencer reid fluff because i said so! you can listen to watch you sleep by girl in red & out of my league by fitz and the tantrums while reading this because those were the songs i listened to while writing this and i think they fit really well with this fic.

THAT DARN SUNLIGHT, YOU SHOULD GET YOUR BLINDS FIXED WHEN YOU’RE FREE—THEN IT HITS YOU. You just got it fixed about two weeks ago. You are definitely not in your room.

Scrambling to get up, you were about to jump off whichever bed you ended up in last night when you felt a warm, lithe arm tucked underneath yours, clasping you in a soft embrace like a lover. Now that you think about it, you could feel this person’s hair tickling your chin and their warm breath against your neck.

This is seriously freaking you out. You have no idea who you are cuddling with. Jesus Christ, how many shots did you drink last night? Why would the team let you go home drunk with some guy? 

Gently, you removed the arm wrapped around your waist and slowly pushed away the brunette positioned snugly between your head and shoulder. No way.

The person you are cuddling with is none other than your genius coworker.

Dr. Spencer Reid.

Like any other normal person would do—no person in their right mind would sleep with their coworkers, literally and figuratively—you checked yourself for any presence of clothing. Thank God, you did not completely lose your mind last night and slept with Reid. But it still doesn’t explain why you were wearing his faded Star Trek shirt and one of his pajama pants.

Fucking hell, did he change your clothes for you? You were ready to catch the next plane and disappear at this point.

You were about to start berating yourself for getting into this mess when you noticed how the sunlight made the man beside you look more angelic than usual.

The sun seemed to caress every freckle on his face, the slight pink tinge from the cold morning air, and his hair—although unruly from the tossing and turning during the night—could pass for that of a shampoo model. Pretty.

And his lips.

They looked even more inviting right now, pink and full and parted slightly, as he breathed in and out small puffs of air, finally sleeping soundly following a week of sleepless nights tracking down an unsub. You roamed your eyes once more on his face, starting from his hair and down to where his upper body was covered by an old shirt and the blanket you shared—forgetting your initial dilemma as to how you ended up in bed with your coworker (whom you have a big crush on).

Thank goodness you did not have sex with the one guy you were practically in love with for years. It would be nice to remember every detail of that rendezvous—if that ever happens. You groaned inwardly. This is not the time to fantasize about your coworker, Y/N! You need to get out of bed and out of his house.

But a part of you longs to keep pretending that this is real. That sleeping next to—cuddling, let us be honest—Reid is a usual occurrence. Pursing your lips, you closed your eyes and willed yourself to go back to sleep. Let the future version of you worry about how you will handle waking next to your coworker. Except you could not.

You wished you could tattoo what Reid looked like in the early morning light when he was asleep and without that crease between his brows that seemed to be etched permanently from all the stress of chasing unsubs around the country.

You gotta admit, some days, you yearned for Reid’s eidetic memory. You wished you could have memories of him engraved in your brain that no matter what you do, you could not help it. He would be there. A persistent thought. But then again, you were in too deep with your feelings for the man that you think, even without an eidetic memory, you could definitely recount all your favorite memories with him in a heartbeat.

So, you chose to stay awake.

This is not looking good for you. How else would you explain to someone—your coworker, of all people—who just woke up why you were staring at them while they slept. God, you are down horrendously.

He looked so peaceful like this. Pink cheeks, freckles, and messy hair. He looked so adorable you wished you could pepper his face with kisses and bury your face in his chest. And he is snoring lightly. He is endearing.

You are never getting another chance like this. This will not hurt anyone, right?

Hence, you took in every tiny detail, every freckle, every mole, and every scar you could see. You committed to memory every inch of skin your eyes could reach before the man beside you woke up. You tried to learn by heart what this man looks like when he is untroubled and at peace—what he looks like in the eyes of his future lover when they wake up next to him because that would never be you.

It would never be you.

And that could happen any day now. Reid was bound to find someone who would love him. He was the easiest person to love. He was not a prince charming nor the male lead of a romance novel kind of guy, But he has this boyish charm.

Let us be real. Reid was probably the most uncoordinated guy alive and the most socially awkward person ever. But you were taken by him. The moment he started spewing facts and statistics about anything and everything under the sun, you were done for.

He could talk to you about why worms were called worms and the probability of people dying on their birthdays. And you would listen to him willingly. You were that taken by him. Not to mention, it does not help your case that Reid was probably the prettiest person alive. Well, not literally, but he was that close to being the prettiest person—in your opinion of course.

He had messy, brown curls that looked like they barely experienced the touch of a comb, but you knew they were soft. You knew because every time Reid did something endearing—everything he did was endearing, for you—you always ruffled his hair. This would make him grumble about how he had to fix it again and to which you would reply with a cheeky, You know what a comb is? And Reid would roll his eyes at you.

He had hazel eyes that reminded you of a puppy dog. They were mostly brown with a tinge of green. Most days, it reminded you of being cozy, drinking hot chocolate by the fire. They looked like you were coming home. They always looked like they were pleading for you to stare at them. And you admit you have lost count of the many times Reid had to flick his fingers in front of you with a matching Earth to Y/N and a mini history lesson starting with a Did you know that the history behind that phrase comes from science fiction movies showing people on earth sending messages to people in space?

And Reid always wore the fluffiest cardigans and sweater vests, reminding you of your teddy bear collection at your childhood home. It was crazy how if you saw anyone else in the law enforcement track having the same fashion sense as Reid, you would probably think of them as ridiculous. He wore a pair of black converse sneakers, among other things. For heaven’s sake! Come on! You have to go after seasoned criminals—you at least have to look the part. Right? You have to look imposing and menacing to intimidate them in interrogation rooms. However, the teddy bear look—as you’d like to call it—works so well for Reid. 

What is more, is that Reid fits your ideal type. He is probably the poster boy for it. Ever since you were never into the macho guys and their big muscles. No offense to them because those are their bodies. They look good, but you like your men a little scrawny. You liked lean and really tall men. And Reid is definitely that. He may have failed his fitness test a gazillion times, but the man was in no way, shape, or form, unhealthy. He had the right muscles at the right places and besides, he literally goes after serial killers. He is fit alright.

Lost in your thoughts, you were damn near ogling the man beside you and ended up looking fixedly at his lips. You always thought he had kissable lips, minus the fact that it is probably because you were practically in love with the guy.

You wanted to kiss him so bad it is killing you right now. But in your good conscience, you couldn’t and you wouldn’t. You were completely aware of Reid being a germaphobe, and he has mentioned countless times, kissing is more hygienic than shaking another person’s hand, kissing a sleeping person was out of the books for you. One, the person couldn’t consent because they were unconscious. Two, you were not his lover. Kissing him while he was asleep would be a violation to him. Not to mention, unwelcomed and creepy as hell. Imagine waking up and someone has their lips slobbering your face. Icky!

You were so engrossed with images of you kissing Reid and him kissing you back that you forgot one detail—the man could wake up at any moment without you noticing.

And he did wake up. You just failed to notice, too busy ogling his pink lips.

“If you won’t do it, I will.”

You froze in place.

Like a deer caught in the headlights, you rushed to leap out of Reid’s bed—almost toppling over on the floor in an unladylike fashion. You probably would look worse than Reid when he was huffing and puffing during his last fitness test mandated by the bureau.

But before you could jump out and run away from the man beside you, Reid had all but effortlessly pulled you towards him. You ended up burying yourself into his chest face first as you clutched his shirt to break the fall. It is not even 8 am in the morning yet, and you have managed to embarrass yourself enough for your parents to cut off all ties with you. You would rather dig yourself a hole to die in than be here.

Knowing you have nowhere else to escape, you believe it was time to lie on the bed you made. Sluggishly, you pulled your face away from the lean chest you descended on and peeped up at the angelic face you’d been staring at for the past hour with a sheepish smile.

“H-hi, Reid!”

This is just pure torture. Reid probably knew why you looked like an actual tomato with how red you are, at this moment. He is smiling at you like a cat who ate the canary as he suppressed a laugh.

“I didn’t know you had a clumsy side to you, Y/L/N,” Reid snickered.

What?

“What?” You frowned, which made Reid chuckle some more, shaking his head.

“Nothing,” you scrunch your brows as you tilt your head in confusion, “You just seem so formidable on the field and interrogation room. I’d hate to be the one you’re tracking down,” Reid responded.

“Oh, um,” you grinned as you thought of the perfect rib for the man in front of you, “Just because I’m an FBI agent doesn’t mean I can’t be uncoordinated every now and then. I mean, I know plenty of agents who are quite the klutz on the daily,” you peered at him while he gawps in protest.

“Hey!” He argued, scowling at you.

God, he’s endearing.

“I didn’t mention any names,” you chortled, raising your hand in defense, which made him roll his eyes.

You cracked up at his juvenile actions. In turn, Reid smiled in amusement.

God, you can’t believe that you’re laying on a bed beside Reid. With Reid—like it’s an everyday thing. The smiles. The banter. The laughter. This is crazy. You could get used to this. Sleeping next to him and not just next to him—like the ones you have during your cases where you get to be roommates. No, sleeping on one bed, next to each other. Waking up next to each other. Hearing his gruff morning voice.

You could get used to this.

You can’t.

You shouldn’t.

Reid is your friend. A coworker. You shouldn’t be fantasizing about sleeping and waking up next to him, that is unprofessional. Not to mention, you would be breaking one of the golden rules of the bureau. Never fraternize with a fellow agent on the same unit. 

Seemingly lost in thought, you retreated from the man beside you, as you grimaced.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing, Reid,” you smiled glumly, “Don’t worry your pretty little head about it,” you patted his cheek gently.

“Is this about you waking up in my bed? I swear no—”

“I know, Reid,” you sighed, “You would never hurt me. I was drunk last night. I’m sure you brought me here because you were too tired to take me home. We just got back from a case and I shouldn’t have drank a lot of shots after all the sleepless nights,” you were slowly sitting up now, “But thank you, Reid. Thank you for taking care of me.”

“Always, Y/N.”

This made you smile.

Trust Reid to always make your heart flutter at the tiniest gestures. He’s probably the most genuine and compassionate person you know. It breaks your heart every time you remember that his actions might make you feel butterflies in your stomach, but he does them not because he sees you romantically—he just does them because that is just how he is—caring.

“I’m gonna get up now,” you muttered.

“So, that’s it?”

This made you pause.

“What do you mean?” You looked at him, to which he scoffed.

“You know what I mean, Y/N.”

“No, I really don’t, Reid,” you scowled, growing irritated at this whole situation, his riddles, and him, for being so perfect, “So, you better tell me because you scoffing at me is slowly infuriating me.”

“You spent an hour, eighteen minutes, and thirty-eight seconds watching me sleep,” Reid shared as matter-of-factly, as if to say "You aren’t slick, Y/N, " which made you sputter in indignation. At this rate, you wouldn’t be surprised if Reid would be considered by the Guinness World Records as the first omniscient person on earth with his brilliant mind. The man has an IQ of 187 for Pete’s sake!

“If that doesn’t tell you anything, then I don’t know what will,” he finished.

“First of all,” you started, “I did not watch you sleep.”

This made the man raise one brow at you. Liar.

“Second of all, if I did watch you sleep and you felt it,” you continued pointedly as if to tell Reid you weren’t watching him sleep. “Shouldn’t you have called me out on it? Why did you let me be then?” 

“I don’t know. Okay?”

“What do you mean you don’t know?” You pushed, crossing your arms.

“I woke up just a few minutes after I felt your stare,” Reid began rambling, “Did you know the reason why we feel someone is looking directly at us is that we have this system called the gaze detection system? I woke up a few minutes after I felt you staring.”

You smiled fondly at the man prattling facts from the back of his brain. This was your favorite version of Reid. The one who knows anything and everything under the sun and can probably talk about them if you asked him to. But right now, you have had enough of that. You won’t allow him to distract his adorable babbling from knowing why he let you stare at him.

Maybe he shares the same feelings with you.

“Reid,” you exhaled, “that still doesn’t explain why you let me watch you sleep.”

This made the man’s cheeks start dusting with pink. You were aware of the fact that it should have been the questioning done the other way around. You literally breached his privacy in his own home but you couldn’t help it. You wanted to know if he feels the same way as you. You wanted to know everything now rather than later. You know you’d probably get rejected but you wanted to get it over with.

“I wanted you to kiss me.”

This made you gasp, eyes widening—you think they were about to come out of their sockets. Reid blushed some more with your shocked expression. 

“I didn’t know what to do,” he continued explaining, “so I pretended to be asleep but I wanted you to kiss me. I thought that you would kiss me but you didn’t. So, I waited.” He looked down at his lap and bit his lip.

With your initial shock wearing off, you practically looked like a wild animal pouncing on the bed. Reid yelped at how quick you moved from where you originally stayed put. Without further ado, you reached for him. Thumbs caressing his rosy cheeks, you stared at his hazel irises.

“Are you sure about this?” You asked gently, wanting to be sure that he wants this just as much as you do. Before you could say anything else, Reid pressed his lips against yours.

As soon as you felt his lips against yours, your eyes closed. His lips were warm and soft—a little chapped but you didn’t mind. It feels perfect against yours. You didn’t want this to end but you want to see him—feel more of him. So, you did. You buried one of your hands in his curls as you caressed his chiseled jaw. Warmth blossomed in your chest as you realized you were kissing the guy you’d been pining for years and he is kissing you back.

You could taste your shared breath and feel the flutter of his long lashes against your cheeks. He tilted his head slightly in the opposite direction and nudged his nose against yours as your lips parted slightly, allowing him to slip his tongue inside.

You wanted to open your eyes. You wanted to see the faint constellations on his face, admire the slight scrunch of his brows when he’s focused—you had a feeling after this kiss is over, being with him won’t be as easy as it was before. You would be ruined knowing what it was like to kiss him. But you were so tired of longing for him. And his mouth was the softest mouth you have ever kissed. And nobody has ever kissed you like this before—loving and warm.

You didn’t stop kissing Reid until you felt like you were running out of air from running. So, you held his shoulders and distanced your face from his. He tried chasing your lips but you dodged him. Instead, you looked down at your lap. You felt your tears and willed them to not fall. Not here, not now, not in front of him. You wouldn’t want him to pity you.

“Hey, Y/N,” Reid placed his warm hand against yours, “What’s wrong? Did I do something wrong?” His thumb caressed your hand soothingly.

“That’s the thing, Reid,” you explained, looking up at him right now as he flinched, noting the tears glistening in your eyes, “Nothing’s wrong. The kiss was perfect. You’re perfect.” You could see his shoulders sagging in relief after what you said. “And because of that, I can’t just pretend that what happened was normal because it isn’t. I know it won’t happen again so I can’t get used to it. And you know I’m not the type to kiss someone unless they mean that much to me.”

You were about to explain some more when you felt Reid pull you. You gulped when you felt the tickle of his breath in the junction of your neck and shoulder. “I really like you, Y/N. If it isn’t obvious,” Reid muttered shyly, “I’ve liked you for quite some time now.”

“Oh.”

If this was difficult for you, it was difficult for Reid as well—if not more—to be vulnerable about his feelings. You knew about how difficult it was for him growing up, being the only twelve-year-old prodigy in a public high school. He’s been through so much with his dad leaving and having to take care of his mom. He’s never had a proper experience with just about everything from making friends, being a normal kid, and in this case, harboring romantic feelings for someone—you.

So, you did what you thought could convey that the feeling was mutual. You gently wrapped your arms around him and nuzzled your face into his brown locks. He smelled of crisp pages of a book with a hint of pine. If you thought your favorite version of Reid was him rambling about facts and statistics, you’re probably going to give that version a run for his money. Because this version of Spencer Reid right here—the one who chose to be vulnerable, the one who chose to open up to you not knowing if the feeling was mutual—is probably your new favorite version of him.

“If it isn’t obvious to you, Dr. Reid,” you began, “I’ve liked you for quite some time now too.”

With that, you pulled him away from being tucked into your neck and kissed him again. You felt him grin widely, as you showered his pretty face with pecks, and you could not be happier. Before you could shower him with more kisses, Reid started spouting statistics about office romances.

“One in ten heterosexual couples in the United States meet at work.”

“Lucky for us,” you said as you tried to bury your nose in Reid’s neck, which made him giggle. "We are that one couple in the BAU. Now, shut up, so I can kiss you some more.”

This made Reid guffaw.

You couldn’t be happier waking up next to your coworker.

[myfairkatiecat]

You know what I’m excited for?

Bestie-cognates-Fitzphie. PLATONIC Fitzphie.

Once all this romance drama is over and Fitz is over everything—I want these two best friends being the most Cognates ever. Also imagine the silly havoc they can cause with telepathy once there’s no saving the world to worry about and they’re just teenagers?

Or even WHILE there’s still saving the world to worry about, and they go into situations like, “yeah, face this team. Face the most powerful pair of cognates you ever did see.” *TELEPATH POWER*

I feel like there’s always been that slight tension in their cognate relationship that they like each other and now she’s with Keefe and abfkfhsskdh just stuff but after being totally honest in stellarlune, even though their feelings were hurt, they were OVER 1000 on the cognate power reader thing. Now imagine they get over the hurt and they’ve still got that trust? Besties gonna wreck HAVOC. The neverseen and Gisela will never know what hit them. And then the world will be back to normal and Keefe, in need of silly pranks to put his world back at ease, will never know what hit him. Until they brag about it to him.

I want Fitz finding himself an awesome girlfriend who is not Sophie, and Sophie giving him relationship advice while he talks to Keefe and telepathically lets Sophie know what perfect presents he wants or dates they should go on.

I want these two kids to be overpowered as POSSIBLE in the face of everything and I want them to do it while being ALL THE WAY OVER THE DRAMA. No love triangle, just Sophie and Keefe being in love despite their trauma and issues and with their genetic experiment trauma bonding, and Sophie and Fitz being that pair of bestie telepaths you Do Not Want To Mess With.

GIVE ME ULTRA-POWERED BESTIE COGNATES FITZPHIE!!! Besties only!! No romance!! Just cognates forever!

[boydepartment]

enhypen as things from 2014 tumblr

a/n: i am literally frothing at the mouth that 2014 tumblr is coming back. around 2016-2018 this aesthetic and mentality was my EVERYTHING. now in 2024 the mentality and aesthetic is still there just a lil more.... um flavorful for me 😋😋 but it’s okay! i also had to go on my LAPTOP to lay this out so please like this post... my ass worked hard on this- i also dont know if heeseung's aesthetic photo for his headcanons is messed up?? if it is i am so sorry

warnings- 2014 tumblr was a lil cray cray, but i worked my hardest to make sure none of the photos or themes would be triggering :) if you felt anything negative during reading these headcanons- tell me and i will add it to the warnings. but as far as i know and with my own experiences/disorder everything is pretty good and non triggering! :)

MASTERLIST

🕰️jungwon- specifically that one brand of music

okay let me elaborate: out of my league by the fitz and the tantrums

tongue tied by grouplove

electric love by børns

the really like happy yet sad songs??? he’s very like HES SO TONGUE TIED BY GROUPLOVE IM SORRY???? listen to the song that is jungwon he is that song. he is def like that summer romance who you never speak to again and it’s so sad because you loved him so much but now you’re like strangers. just wait till next summer tho, he’ll make you fall in love with him all over again. it’s bittersweet

⚰️heeseung- knee socks

okay me being out of pocket for a sec

heeseung is absolutely fucking insane and drives me nuts. and so do knee socks. any socks that go above the shin drive me fucking insane because they don’t sit properly ever, no matter the size the sock or the size i am they FALL. but i own like 4-6 pairs, because they look nice and make me feel pretty when they sit properly. heeseung drives me insane but i want to be his gf ☹️☹️

he’s def the type of guy to fix your socks too when he notices they’re shifting

🎥jay- the wallpaper quotes

like the sad ones everyone had EVERYWHERE. i was on quotev during this time around 2015?? and they were EVERYWHERE. bangchans wallpaper from 2018 core

these aesthetic quotes just remind me of jay. music is everything to him so he’s the mf to reblog this being like

“this resonates with me.”

he’s also very arctic monkeys coded but do what you will with that 😋😋HE WOULD SO POST HIS OWN WRITINGS AND AESTHETIC GUITAR PHOTOS. HES LIKE THE TUMBLR HOT GUY. imagine while he’s like super popular on tumblr ur like the actual “rockstar’s gf” aesthetic. LIKE THAT ONE FUCKING PHOTO OF THE 1975 ROBBERS MUSIC VIDEO??? I THINK IT WAS THAT ONE RIGHT??? i’m attaching it rn

💋jake- the bold lip makeup + messy photos

dayum let me get out of pocket rq again

that really specific dark aesthetic where it’s in parking lots and blurry and you can make out the dark lip makeup, bleached damaged platinum blonde hair, and the makeup is messy. everything is messy

HEUWBDJBFJAVSHDBBD that is jake :) he’s def the type of guy to be like “wait let’s take a cool photo.” then kisses you to smudge your lipstick then snaps a photo with the flash so when you’re alarmed by the flash you move and it makes the photo all cool looking bc it’s blurry.

👓sunghoon- the john green obsession

i’ve read every john green book pre 2016

i hated looking for alaska it was fucking insane. however sunghoon is like the good part about the paper towns book. like the fun road trip part. that happened right? or did i imagine that? NO IT DID. sunghoon very like curl up bbg im gonna read this book to you and make little stupid comments during it. def the type to have you in his arms while he reads, you hold the book and he has his hands over yours, softly rubbing circles.

💍sunoo- the victorias secret aesthetic

this is actually me rn sorry, all my clothes come from there pretty much. if it’s not thrifted it’s from victoria’s secret. it’s not just lingerie, they have like everything there. NONETHELESS it also screams sunoo. a lot of it is very like chic in a way and it just fits him perfectly. the black and pink colors, the small pops. it just really fits him. the aesthetic is just chefs kiss. especially since i feel like he’d be obsessed with the lotions (i own the mint chocolate lotion and wear it)

def the type of bf to come home with new body sprays for both of you. probably mixing scents too. MATCHING JACKETS AS WELL

📸riki- the electra heart album

MARINA AND THE DIAMONDS. god everything abt this album screams riki.

me relistening to this album and realizing how much it did effect me😨😨😨😨 maybe i’m just projecting now but besides the point

that album is so like riki coded let me get quotes

“I think I want your, your American tan- I think you're gonna be my biggest fan”

“The pretty lies, the ugly truth”

“All I ever wanted was the world- I can't help that I need it all”

“Rule number three, wear your heart on your cheek- But never on your sleeve, unless you wanna taste defeat”

“You're never gonna love me, so what's the use?”

“you don’t love me- big fucking deal”

"question good and question bad."

okay i’m GONNA BE WRITING A BOOK I HAVE TO STOP. he’s def the type of bf where if he hears you listening to this album he’s like “wtf…” then finds himself humming to it. he’d be like that with all your music taste too. riki with black chipped nailpolish OKAY I WILL SHUT UP ABT HIM NOW

[reyreadersblog]

YK WHAT I HATE THE MOST?

Gender inequality. Even in the books.

Okay, so this might sound stuqid, but you'll get where i'm coming from..(if you don't then i'm an idiot and don't mind me)

As an exa

i'll use TIG book series as an example. I love all Hawthorne brothers, truly i do (and i wish they were real) and if i'm being honest they might be one of the best book bfs out there, my main problem is how overshadowed FMC, Avery Grambs, is by them. So you meant to tell me you find many flaws in her character but don't find any in the brotherss??? Hey i love them all, but they made mistakes, many mistakes too, starting from Xander (i'm not sure about him) and ending with Nash.

"Oh..Avery was boring.." "She shouldn't have donated that much money" "she doesn't listen to anyone" "Avery was dumb" "Avery was meanie" STFU. First of all she is one of the most intersting characters, it's her money and she can use it however she wants, she was naturally smart girl and EVEN THOUGH she made mistakes she is still the best character in the books. I HATE the way fandom ignores every mistakes the boys made, Like..let's take Jameson as an example..i love him, but he also made bad desicions, like..using Avery..hiding the truth..and more.

Avery Kylie Grambs is an icon and she's better than any Hawthorne brother. Here i said it.

Now let's move on to Alisa (you can not make me hate or dislike her) she made mistakes for sure, she was mean to Libby (on my previous posts i explained why i think she was rude to her..but anyway..) but that's the thing again.. GRAYSON? He is litearlly my favourite character but i can admit he definetley messed up in certian situations, if you're saying Alisa was mean to Libby...then Grayson's behaviour staight up deserves jail, bcs he litearlly threatened a heiress...

How i wish that to be his only mistake but he made tons, TONS of them and majority of the fandom chose to ignore, (bcs he's hot), but when it comes to Alisa..when she made a mistake, by being slight rude towards Libby, out of jealousy...fandom goes crazy, saying she's very bad character, a meanie, insicure. And why? Bcs she's not a hot male character, in fact she's a independent female characater..and of course she's going to get hate on her every move..

And the sad thing is this happens in almost evey fandom, female characters who are independent, headstrong..have their own mind and opinions, ALWAYS get hate, Avery Grambs, Alisa Ortega,Donatella Dragna, Pip fitz-Amobi, Annabeth Chase, Wren Greenwrock, Nina Zenik, America Singer..

this no hate post, i respect your opinion, and i do love Hawthorne brother, this is just something that needed to be said.

[rainintheevening]

🍁🍁Comfy-vember 🍁🍁

Day 9: Scars

Grant Ward & Phil Coulson, Agents of SHIELD, Saving Grant Ward AU, aftermath of torture, non-sexualized bathing/washing, the author does not recommend postponing medical care for a shower

---------

The first thing Grant demanded was a shower.

"It's been three weeks, okay? You don't want me in your medbay like this."

Simmons stood with her arms crossed over her chest, frowning down at him where he sat on the Quinjet, which had just touched down in the Playground's hanger. "Just because Trip splinted your leg and I gave you some anesthetic, doesn't mean it isn't serious. You need to get the bone set, and I'm worried about infection. Never mind your shoulder—heaven only knows what those x-rays are going to look like."

Phil stayed seated, feeling Grant's weight leaning into him, though it was less than it had been before. Before Garrett, before HYDRA, before he'd been on the run. There was no denying Grant was a mess—greasy hair grown too long and falling in his eyes, ragged jacket and jeans bearing mud and tree sap smears, a fading black eye, and that nasty red scar in front of one ear that ran down to his neck. But he was here! He was safe, he was home, he was back where he belonged. Phil's kid was home again, and the joy of that overwhelmed any grief or fear for now.

"Medbay is built for messes, man." Trip grinned down at his old buddy. "Think about how many people puke in there."

"I'm with Ward," Fitz put in, hovering over Jemma's shoulder. "He should- um- er–"

"Shower." Jemma's whisper was barely audible.

"–shower if he wa-would like to."

"Thank you, Fitz." Grant opened his eyes to smile at the younger agent. "I'm taking a shower," he said again to Simmons. "I'll get back to you in an hour. In the medbay."

Phil knew that tone, and smiled up at the agents clustered in front of them, now including May; Skye lingered warily in the cockpit. It hit him suddenly that they were all here. Grant, May, Fitzsimmons, Skye, Trip. The whole team, reunited.

But he shook off the warm surge of emotion. Grant had to be cared for. "You're not budging him, guys, sorry."

"And what if you fall and break something else?" Simmons argued. "Splitting your skull open in the shower isn't exactly unheard of, and you're not exactly stable."

Grant sighed, sitting straighter so he could turn his head to look at Phil. "Dad?"

That tired little murmur had Phil swallowing hard, nodding before he answered: "Of course. Don't worry," to Simmons. "I'll go with him."

Grant shifted his weight to stand, and Phil moved quickly, ducking under the good right arm, as he levered himself up on the good left leg.

"At least let us get you a stretcher or a wheelchair." Simmons's hands fluttered out in a helpless gesture.

Stiffly, Grant patted her arm with his free hand, made more awkward by the damaged shoulder. "Thank you for your concern, Jemma. But I'm walking in there."

"He's not unconscious," Trip shrugged, moving to Grant's other side, but Fitz had beat him to it.

"Alright, we've got you," Fitz said, his arm joining Coulson's around Grant's waist.

Grant's smile was soft, and he nudged his chin against the curly hair at his shoulder. "Thanks, Leo."

The pure love and hero worship in Fitz's answering look would have melted anyone's heart.

By the time they made it to the bottom of the ramp, though, Phil was wishing Grant had taken Jemma's offer. Even with the local anesthetic in his leg, and the age of his shoulder wound, he moved slow and painful, only the hiss of his breathing betraying what must have been agony. He'd lost enough weight that Phil could have comfortably carried him, but he doubted Grant would agree to that with such an entourage.

That thought was cemented when the second set of heavy doors slid open to the main hall, and instantly a wave of applause washed over them.

Dozens of agents of all ranks and duties lined both sides of the hall, clapping and cheering as Grant stood frozen. Out of the corner of his eye, Phil saw him go first white, then red under the dirt and sweat.

"They're all the ones you saved," came May's calm voice behind them. "At Rabbit's Run and Carlton Place and Foxhole. They know what you did for them."

Most of them were hostages released in the wake of Grant's silent but deadly run on the HYDRA ranks. He'd assassinated almost a hundred HYDRA agents and operatives in the US and Europe, all in the span of two months, and while carrying a bullet in his shoulder. Not even Natasha could match that, Phil thought, pride welling in his chest.

As they came down into the hall, Agent Morse stepped forward, a genuine smile tugging at her lips.

"Baby Bird." Grant nodded at her.

"Baby Hawk." She grinned. "Welcome back."

Phil wanted to chuckle at the normalcy of their friendly banter, but he could feel Grant's arm trembling around his neck, Grant using all his strength to stand tall in front of the crowd.

"I suppose I have you to blame for this circus."

"Nah, it was Mack's idea."

"Mack." Grant smiled faintly over toward the big man. "Now if you'll excuse me, Birdy, I need a shower."

"And then medical attention," Simmons piped up rather crossly.

"Yeah, that's obvious." Concern creased Bobbi's forehead as she took in his current state. "Well, I certainly won't stand in your way." She stepped back into the line of agents on the left.

"Showers are down two levels with the bunks," Phil said softly, as they stepped forward again. "We'll take the elevator. Straight ahead, then to the right."

Grant did not reply, he was exerting every effort to limp as strongly and steadily as possible down that hall. Some of the agents they passed stood to attention and saluted, some just nodded or tapped a fist over their heart.

What a contrast to the outrage and anger that had gripped the surviving SHIELD members after they saw the footage from the Treehouse massacre—Grant Ward following John Garrett as obediently as a leashed dog. Phil, had been one of his only defenders, along with Fitzsimmons. Even when Grant had betrayed Providence, Phil had clung to his belief that his kid was just playing the game, keeping his cover by giving information that may or may not result in deaths. It was a far better idea than the alternative.

And Phil's belief had been vindicated.

Just Phil, Grant, Fitz, and Trip stepped into the elevator, and the second the doors closed, Grant sagged heavily into Phil, almost falling.

"Steady, steady!" Fitz exclaimed, then froze as his frantic tug on Grant's injured arm elicited a deep groan from him.

"Just– gimme a minute," Grant squeezed out.

"It's okay, Fitz," Phil said, hooking his fingers under Grant's belt to support him better.

It was... different sticking with an injured member of his team this far. Usually by now he'd stepped back, taking the team leader's long view, taking stock and planning what to do next, while other more qualified people did their jobs. Especially now that he was Director Coulson, and not just another agent. But this was Grant, this was his son. Grant trusted him like no one else. And Phil was more than grateful to have this time with Grant, after so long.

"I wanna sleep for a week," Grant whispered, somewhere around Phil's collar.

"That can be arranged." Trip looked both concerned and amused. "Are you sure you're up to this, man?"

Grant did not lift his head from Phil's shoulder, even as the elevator halted, and Phil barely caught his whisper: "I just want to get him off me."

Phil stiffened, and Grant straightened hastily, shaking his head. "No, no! That's not what I– I just–" He made a frustrated sound. "I smell like HYDRA," he said at last.

"You smell like shit," Trip said dryly.

"Exactly."

Phil had been blocking it out best he could, but in the narrow space of the elevator, it was impossible not to notice the reek of sweat and blood and something rotten that clung to Grant. Phil did not blame him at all for wanting that shower.

It took them another ten minutes to reach the men's showers; a long narrow space, with benches along one wall facing a row of shower heads, half enclosed, half not.

Fitz was sent for a chair, while Trip helped Phil remove the splint from Grant's leg and cut the bottom of his pant leg off so it could be put back on over bare skin.

"Are you sure you don't want me to-?" Trip held up a hand against Grant's glare. "Nah, it's okay, man. I'll leave you two to it." He glanced at Phil. "Want me and Fitz to stand guard outside?"

"One of you at least, if you wouldn't mind." He was about to ask if Trip could fetch something clean for Grant to wear, when Fitz came in, carrying the chair, and a handful of clothes.

"Agent May brought these." He held out the clothing: Grant's old Seahawks sweatshirt, a SHIELD-issue t-shirt and underwear, and a pair of flannels Phil didn't recognize. "Agent MacKenzie, er, gave the trousers."

Phil smiled, noting how Fitz's transitions from a word he couldn't remember to one he did were getting smoother. "Tell them both thanks."

"Clearing out now, sir." Trip patted Fitz's shoulder in a way that served to steer him back toward the door. "Holler if you need anything."

The clank of the door shutting echoed in the sparsely outfitted room, and then there was silence, except for a pipe gurgling, and the harsh sound of Grant's breathing.

Phil knelt beside him, involuntarily reaching to push back the shaggy hair from his forehead. They'd laid him flat on the floor for stability while they moved the splint around, but Phil couldn't help thinking he looked nearly dead, stretched out like that.

Grant opened his eyes, squinted up at him.

"You ready?" Phil asked softly.

"Think the granola bars are kicking in." Grant sighed, sat up carefully. "Let's get this over with."

They started with peeling off Grant's jacket, and two button-down shirts. "Haven't worn a t-shirt since Anchorage," he muttered, letting his left arm fall back into his lap.

Phil nodded silently. He remembered the shock of Grant's body hitting his, in time with the crack of Garrett's gun. That bullet had ended up in Grant's shoulder, rather than Phil's brain.

He frowned at Grant's torso, counting three puckered spots of skin, obvious gunshot scars. "Where'd you get those?"

Grant had already started to shiver slightly, and sat forward instead of back against the cold cinderblock wall. He took a moment to reply. "Garrett. On the Bus. Trying to get Fitzsimmons."

Phil was kneeling in front of him where he sat on the bench, so he could look up into Grant's face. There was a distance in Grant's gaze he understood, but didn't like. "Jemma was sure you were dead. She said you got shot at least six times. Fitz was heartbroken."

A spark in the dark brown eyes, a twitch of the lips. "He's a good kid. Leo the lion, bravest of them all."

"But Garrett kept you alive."

A nod, and Grant looked away.

Phil took a deep breath, quelling the anger and sadness that welled in him, and reached slowly to cup Grant's cheek, press his fingers to sweat-sticky too-warm skin.

"I'm glad you're alive."

A glance at him, before Grant's eyes welled up, and he covered them with one hand. Phil's heart cracked a little; four hours since rescue and this was the first time he’d seen tears from from Grant.

Grant slid his hand over on top of Phil's, now hiding his face behind both of them, but he gripped Phil's fingers painfully tight. He said nothing, but a few deep breaths later, he let go, sat straighter, rubbed his eyes.

"Okay, let's move."

They had to cut the waistbands of his jeans and underwear above the injured leg to get those off anywhere close to comfortably, and then Phil turned on the water, giving it time to warm. Grant would need that; Phil hated hearing the little teeth chatters and quick breaths behind him as he collected the company-issue soap and shampoo from a shelf, along with washcloths and a clean towel. Koenig deserved a raise for keeping this place so well-stocked, Phil thought.

At last he helped Grant gently to his feet, and half-carried him into the now-steaming shower, lowering him to sit in the chair Fitz had brought.

A little gasp escaped Grant as the warm water hit him, before he relaxed, tilted his head back to let it wash over his face. Phil moved back to the curtained entrance, awkward and uncertain now. He'd set the soap and things within Grant's reach, but it wouldn't be easy for him to wash himself in his current state. He decided to wait for Grant to ask before he tried to help any further.

He had a sudden sharp recollection of being a child in the bathroom doorway, watching his mother help his father bathe, near the end when the cancer had robbed him of his strength. It was the same mixture of embarrassment, helplessness, and love that filled Phil now.

Sweat beaded on his brow, and he became aware of his heavy jacket and boots, and the water splashing on the cement floor. He left the coat, socks, and boots on the bench, along with his watch, rolling up his sleeves as he walked back to the shower stall.

That was when Phil finally saw the bullet scar clearly, stark on Grant's flushed skin. A dent the size of a quarter in his left shoulder, red and purple lines radiating outward in a strange sort of shatter pattern.

In the narrow space, Grant's back was only an arm's length away, but Phil hesitated to touch him, afraid to startle him. He'd carried that wound for two months– How had he ever survived? How had he kept going? Kept spying and shooting and moving.

"Coulson," Grant was saying. "Dad!"

He blinked, shook his head, cleared his throat. "Yes?"

Grant had his head down, turned, but not quite looking back at him. His hand holding the shampoo bottle was trembling. "Can you-?"

"Of course."

Water droplets pattered against his arms, darkened his sleeves as he worked a lather into Grant's hair, careful and awkward at first, before settling down to the job. He could feel Grant relaxing under his hands, and bit back a smile.

"Feeling better?" he murmured, as soapy grey water slid down the drain.

Grant's only reply was a grunt.

"Just don't fall asleep," Phil warned. "You can do that when they knock you out in the med bay."

"Won't need to knock me out," Grant mumbled.

No, they probably wouldn't, Phil thought. At this rate, he'd be carrying Grant down to the med bay.

"Anything else I can do?" he asked aloud, dropping his right hand to Grant's shoulder.

Grant said nothing, just held up a washcloth, and Phil silently took it.

He eased back a step, as Grant leaned forward, and was thinking of how gentle he'd have to be when he paused, staring at Grant's back.

The bullet hole wasn't the only scar there. There were other, older lines, cuts, burns that almost looked like finger prints, and... was that-?

"Grant. What is this?" He could barely hear his own whisper over the running water.

"What-?" Grant started, before he froze under Phil's touch.

Phil's stomach churned as he traced the raised flesh, the hollow-eyed skull and the eight curling tentacles. Bile rose in his throat, hot and scalding, but he swallowed it back. "Who did this to you?" He hated how his voice broke, how tears burned behind his eyes.

"Sorry, Garrett's already dead."

With a curse, Phil turned away, slammed a fist into the metal wall, but Grant's flinch yanked him back from the anger better than the pain in his knuckles did.

A deep breath, before he found a word. "Why?"

Grant seemed to shrink under his gaze, curling under the weight of that awful brand. But his words came as steadily as they would in any debriefing. "He said I was his. After I– I tried to escape. They tortured me, but he wouldn't let me die. And then he had me branded. To make sure everyone knew which master to send the mutt back to.

"Did you know?" He sat straighter, as if the bitter words gave him strength, glanced over his shoulder up at Phil. "Did he tell you he came to recruit me? In juvie? He got to the detention centre ten minutes after we left. He wanted me for HYDRA. But you beat him to it." A rusty laugh. "The way he harped on that, you would have thought you'd done it on purpose." He sighed, and his voice dropped to a whisper. "After- after I broke, after I shot Firenze... he said he won. He said he got me in the end."

The warmth on Phil's cheeks was not water; it stung in his eyes, burned in his throat. Words, where were they? What was he supposed to say?

I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. We should have searched harder, we should have found you, I should have saved you. But when he opened his mouth, no sound came.

Blinking away tears, he looked down to where his hands rested on Grant's shoulders, water pattering over his fingers and dripping steadily down from his wrists... washing over those scars. On the right, the brand of HYDRA. On the left, the shattered mark earned from saving Coulson. He wished suddenly that the brand could have been on the left, could have been punched through by that bullet. Because which one had been Grant's choice?

"He didn't."

It came out in a croak, and Phil cleared his throat.

"He didn't get you in the end. You were willing to die to save me. The whole time he thought he had you, you were waiting to turn it back on him. He might have had your hands tied, but he didn't have you."

Grant sat quite still in front of him, head bowed, and suddenly Phil needed to see his face, to make sure Grant understood the truth. He ignored how water soaked his shirt as he stepped around to turn the shower off, and in the ringing hush, sank into a crouch in front of Grant.

Naked, dripping, hungry, exhausted, scarred, and in pain—this was Grant Ward at his most vulnerable. Phil only hoped he could get it right, could say and be whatever it was Grant needed most right now.

"Grant," he murmured.

A sniff, a shaky exhale, a hand rubbed across his face, but Grant did not look up.

Phil shifted to one knee, reaching up to cup the back of Grant's neck, rest their heads together. "You did what you had to do to survive."

Grant shook his head, drew back. When he looked up, his eyes were red-rimmed and wet. "You taught me a long time ago there was more to life than survival."

"I trust your judgement on the cost. You're a good man, Grant. Making the hard choices doesn't change that."

Tears brimmed over, and he turned his face away again.

"You stayed alive," Phil whispered. "And I'm grateful."

A shudder under Phil's hand, and then a sob broke out, Grant shaking his head hard. "But I didn't! I didn't try to survive! He wouldn't let me die."

How could his heart hurt anymore? Phil wondered. Not that he could really pretend surprise. Torture could push people in all kinds of directions. But he needed to keep Grant talking, dig out whatever was festering in his heart.

"What do you mean?" he whispered.

"This scar," Grant gulped, lifted a shaking hand to the pink line running down from in front of his right ear to under his jaw. "That wasn't Garrett. That was me."

And now he was sobbing, slumping forward against Phil's chest. As gently as he could, Phil wrapped an arm over Grant's back, their positions making it awkward to offer more physical comfort.

He wished he had a towel to wrap around Grant's shoulders, knowing the chill would get to him sooner or later. Cool water was dripping down inside his collar, and the hard floor was hurting his knee, but Grant had a fistful of his shirt, and Phil would not have pulled away for the world. He pressed his cheek against wet hair, and closed his eyes.

"What happened, Grant? Talk to me. This is our debriefing. Just us. Talk to me."

"He told me they were dead," Grant choked out. "Fitzsimmons. But he kept me alive. Tortured me. No food. No water. Alone. In the dark. For weeks." A last sob shuddered through him, and he subsided to ragged breathing. He was collecting himself, trying to explain coherently. "Garrett wanted to break me. I tried to escape, but–" a deep shaky inhale "–they caught me. Beat me. When I woke up... he branded me. And I..." His voice caught, and he shook his head, shivered.

"I'm sorry, Dad, I'm so sorry."

That tearful whisper tore at Phil's heart, and a couple warm drops slipped down his own cheeks.

"For what?" Even though he knew the answer.

"I was supposed to die bravely. But I couldn't. I wanted it to end! I just wanted... it to stop, so I tried. I stole a knife, went for the carotid. When I woke up... Garrett said I wouldn't get away that easy.

"I gave in, Dad." Another round of sobs threatened, but he fought them back. "I wasn't trying to be a double agent, I just... wanted to eat every day. I wanted to wake up and not hurt. I don't even remember the Treehouse. Because he was right. I was no better than a dog."

"Grant Douglas Ward." His voice came out too loud, and he tried to soften it with a hand on Grant's cheek. "Look at me." He stared into bloodshot brown eyes, gripped Grant's face gently. "Sometimes heroes have to start by saving their own lives. And yours is worth it." A thumb stroked deliberately down the knife's old path. "So thank you. Thank you for surviving. I'm proud of you, son."

More tears, but quieter now, both of them worn and chilled.

Phil leaned in to press a warm kiss to Grant's forehead. "Come on," he murmured. "We better finish up and get you in some dry clothes."

"Okay."

As he stood though, Grant caught his hand, squeezed it. "I love you, Dad." His tiny tired smile was like the sun breaking through clouds.

It took a moment before Phil could answer.

"I love you, son."

He tried to move quickly, cleaning Grant's back, and helping him wash around the splint. The little gasps from Grant at any movement of his leg, told him the anesthetic had run his course, and his kid belonged in the med bay ten minutes ago.

But at the same time there seemed to be something lighter in Grant's eyes, in his air, and Phil was certain their conversation had been a good thing. What was that saying? The truth will set you free, but first it will make you miserable? Well, they'd gotten some of the misery out of the way.

Getting Grant dry and dressed was an arduous process, but at last he sat on the bench, clad in the borrowed flannels and Phil's jacket, preferable because of its zipper. Phil discarded his soaked button down, and took the t-shirt and sweater. May had forgotten socks, so he gave Grant his own, kneeling in front of him to gently ease on one and then the other, at least as far as it could go on the wounded leg.

As Phil hastily laced his boots, he glanced sideways at Grant's pale face, and closed eyes, the way he slumped back against the wall, still shivering.

"I'm carrying you." Not a question, a decision.

"You always carry me."

The words were barely audible, and he wondered if Grant had meant to say that aloud. But he clearly meant for Phil to hear him as he was set gently on the elevator floor, Fitz and Trip fussing around his leg. As Phil made to stand, Grant caught his sleeve, spoke soft but steady. "I'm glad I'm alive too."

Phil could only nod and smile.

Grant was asleep on his shoulder by the time the elevator stopped.

[kale-of-the-forbidden-cities]

you know

the way (some of) the fandom treats keefe vs fitz feeds into how they are treated in canon (or in my head, I don't even know anymore)

keefe isn't perfect, and he embraces it. he's reckless, messy, impulsive... and sometimes they're even some of the characteristics that people love about him.

he's allowed to mess up. he will be forgiven.

now fitz - he's presented as the perfect golden child. so any time he makes a mistake... people hate him for it. he's not allowed to mess up. if he's not being perfect, he's suddenly... the worst.

but at the SAME TIME. he's also "too perfect" and people hate him for that too.

pick a side!

[multi-fandom-lunatic]

its time. KAM HEADCANONS

Keefe and tam totally started dating but like. no one knew. they thought that they were best friends or already dating (linh is the only who falls into the latter)

Keefe tries to mess with tams hair. he's in awe about it. like, what does that mf put in it. and why's it so stiff-

They totally wear each other's iconic colours. keefe wears silver jewelley, belts, accessories even if it doesnt fully suit him, and tam just has ice blue stuff on him. im talking. pins and badges, stickers and a pair of earrings.

Keefe is such a swiftie. not up for debate. he just is.

Keefe is bi, and i mean the most useless bisexual ever. he finger guns at everyone. he makes bi jokes. he has frog EVERYTHING. everyone is his type and he is everyones type,

tam is gay and ace. he's totally cool with keefe's flirty/dirty jokes because tam knows and consents to them.

They are the most. physically affectionate people ever. especially keefe with tam. im thinking. the classic boyfriend hug (i like to call it the partner hug), squeezing tam way too tight hugs, lifting tam up hugs. as well as kisses everywhere. like you could map out where keefe has kissed tam and its a whole adventure.

keefe and tam totally have a matching sweater and pj set. its something totally obnoxious and they love it.

THEY. HAVE. HAIRCARE. NIGHTS. these two shits totally exchange hair products and keefe is like "what even is this" and tam is all "this would take like give hours" "beauty takes time." "and money i see"

as for surnames, i cant imagine them taking their parents. especially tam. if at all, they'd both have sencen. but i feel they'd come up with their own surnames. maybe "sensong" or even "samsung" without knowing about the brand (sophie makes fun of them)

sophie was the first to accept them. shes been around humans and understands how hard coming out is because of her highschool classmates (there was 100% gay kids in her class). the rest of them are confused and are like "whats gay" but they support their friend (and learn a bit about them too.........)

sophie 100% takes them both to the forbidden cities after they come out. to buy pride pins. keefe is absolutely enamoured by them and tam is more worried about the environment.

on this fateful trip, keefe learns about different human aesthetics. and it becomes his everything. one day a vsco girl. one day emo. one day barbiecore.

keefe uses the word coquette frequently without knowing what it means. like hed just point and say "thats coquette" and its a crushed soda can.

tam eventually tells him about coquette. does not stop keefe.

tam and keefe are not picky eaters. these two mfs will guzzle anything down

but sophie and fitz are, so when they visit, they just eat mallowmelt. just. mallowment.

kam, fedex, linhella and jenstina. sosingle and marusingle.

cassius didnt know about kam until their wedding day. and boy that was DRAMA

when kam wanted to get married, they went to the council, half of whom freaked out and half of whom applauded. it was a lot of battle, but eventually, a year later, the definition of marriage was changed in the law.

so obviously these two made headlines for being like. the first gay marriage in the lost cities. and lo and behold, cassius finds out.

hes so against it, but he doesnt show it to people in public. ofc, keefe got an angry imparter call from him that he laughed off.

quan however. oh dude was raging. he tried to call tam but BLOCKED.

then fedex and linhella got married and everyone was wth. did the human kid just bring the gay with her?? and not be gay herself??

anywho, on the topic of marriage. keefe totally proposed.

keefe was sick of waiting for tam to propose and caved and bought a ring. it was silver with a blue stone in it in the shape of a kite.

keefe brought tam to a cliff and proposed to him there (saying that if tam said no, its alright bcuz he could jump off)

tam was competely pink and told keefe to "shut the fuck up" and pulled out a ring. BECAUSE TAM WAS PLANNING TO PROPOSE (at a later date)

okay im sucked dry of HCs. lmk if yall have any

[twicetolivetwicetodie]

Fitz's mental health getting progressively worse with each series is definitely something to behold

[moashdeservedbetter]

okay

so I understand why Burrich married Molly etc etc, but I think it's a stretch to say that he didn't do *anything* wrong with that whole thing... like he literally made Fitz go into Nighteyes, then pulled him back and brought him back to normal and as soon as he and Chade know that Verity lives they basically tell him "well fuck that peaceful quiet life you think you want, you're a horrible person if you don't go to Verity now" after Fitz already gave up his life once and when he reacts with a big outburst afterwards (literally after running off with his wolf first) they just decide to abandon him. He had only been himself for a short period of time. He was still so vulnerable, to being attacked or to returning to his blurred wit-bond for relief. He's obviously not feeling fine. Also he's at risk for being executed if anyone recognized him alive. At the very, very least, Burrich owed it to Fitz to stay with him until Nettle was born, and then tell him about his and Molly's daughter.

But of course then Fitz wouldn't have saved the world, so that couldn't happened -- but yeah Burrich messed up, and considering that he and Molly had both left him and not told him about his daughter, Fitz had every reason to think that returning would only screw up the happy family he wanted his daughter to have. His reasons were probably even more valid than Chivalry's reasons. He has every right to be quietly angry with and hurt by Burrich, especially since he still loves him and never voices those feelings in a way that weaponizes them.

[the-way-astray]

do you think sokeefe will be a lasting relationship, or will they break up, or secret third thing (they break up and get back together again over and over again)?

anon, i assume you're asking about the canon story. and without question, sokeefe will be in a lasting relationship in canon. i have no doubts there whatsoever. as i discussed in my rant, shannon has a gargantuan tendency to tell, not show, things when in comes to what she wants to communicate about her relationships to the audience. it's not at all subtle. and as i discussed in the rant, sokeefe falls prey to this the most. shannon jumps through all these crazy hoops to tell, not show, the audience how perfect sokeefe will be together. there are even more instances of this in the unlocked novella and stellarlune, but unfortunately i haven't gotten there yet. it's a very insecure way of writing and basically tells your audience you don't trust them to understand what you're trying to tell them from the interactions and dynamic alone.

now why is this relevant? well obviously, if shannon wants so bad for the audience to know that sokeefe will be great together, she isn't doing that for nothing. she clearly wants them together. i haven't discussed stellarlune's famous chapter 42 yet, but in this post, i talk about how that entire scene felt out-of-character for sokeefe. in essence: it's too perfect for their dynamic. almost as if shannon is so insecure about whether her readers will like sokeefe that she removes everything that makes them them in favor of making a impersonal, washed out scene that feels generic and bland. why does she do this? because any imperfections, any flaws, any personality that's unique to sophie and keefe and their dynamic could turn readers against them as a couple. so those have to be erased. and so in the end, all we have is the picture perfect romantic scene that feels way too easy and not at all earned. it reeks of insecurity, in my humble opinion.

all this is to say, shannon did some pretty desperate things to make sure fans understand that sokeefe are great together. she also villainized fitz in the process so that fans would know that sophie and fitz are not good together. and authors don't do these sorts of things unless they are sure they want these characters together forever.

however, fanon exists. and the idea of sophie and keefe breaking up and getting back together endlessly is so funny to me, i can't just not discuss it. the elves' indefinite lifespan allows for it. i think they would do it not because they're actually on and off, but because they want to purposefully spread rumors and gossip about themselves. or at least, keefe would. they want to mess with people's minds because it's funny and they're bored and old and everyone know who they are and there's nothing better to do.

they make a calendar and mark all their break-up dates and get-back-together dates in blue and red. they work out a whole algorithm for how much time to spend in each phase that's just long enough to get the public to think hey, maybe this time it's permanent, and then bam! never mind. they flipped to the other status again. the matchmaking office has nineteen different match-fail forms submitted by the same couple. sometimes, centuries go by between them. sometimes, mere weeks. the matchmakers go to the council and beg them to sign a law into action that puts a restriction on how many times you can divorce and remarry the same person, but the council turns them down because they can't piss off their local genetically modified celebrity couple because they defeated the neverseen and the public love them too much. sophie and keefe spend the rest of eternity (officially) breaking up and getting back together again and again and again and again. the elvin world accepts this as the new reality. it's a metaphor for change and growth in the lost cities.

[artsypatience]

I just got the hugest RotE feels today. God damn it's been 4years since I've read Assassin's Fate, and I only started Assassin's Apprentice some days ago. But thinking about it all, honestly it's so hard. And sad. These books are so fucked up I feel remorse each time I reccommend them to a friend. Thank you ms Hobb, but why, whyy.

I will never stop thinking about Fitz, Beloved, Nettle, Bee, Dutiful, Patience and all the others :(.

Huge RotE rant + spoilers below:

It just makes me feel so sad each time I think about it, besides it being a fictionnal story, it rings so true and deep in my heart.

Fitz never got to die in his bed in Whittywoods next to Molly, he never got to raise Nettle like he wanted to, never got to become an adult at Patience's side, never grew a lot himself and stayed his old scarred and scared self even through some improvements, never got to grow up and old with Beloved, never got to say a proper goodbye to Nighteyes, never got to have the long conversations he should have had with Beloved, never got to raise Dutiful as his own, and the worst is that he never got to finish his days peacefully by Bee's side.

Also the fact that Beloved is so important to him, yet in the whole span of his 60+years life, he barely spent 6 with him. And how Patience mourned him for years when he was still alive, but depressed and empty. How Burrich thought he died to bandits for years after their ugly fight, and then just after being reunited with him, died for him and his son. Ugh. How after having his happy ever after, which actually was just an ever after, with Molly, he still didn't grow a good enough relationship with her to trust her wholly, and how he still was bitter and locked himself up in his office, wondering about Beloved and Nighteyes. How after all these years he still believed he didn't belong even with his own family. How he thought Bee was dead and went on an hateful and twisted path, damaging both him and his relationship with Beloved.

But then, even though all these bitter things it's still beautiful, worth it, because these books got to capture life's essence like a very very few other did. You never get what you want, especially if you don't admit it to yourself, and when you do achieve a dream or a huge thing, it's a sacrifice of other things that would have made you happy, but you are there and you have to carry on, and carve your own happiness with the bare flesh of your hands.

Patience desperatly tried to teach him instruments and he couldn't, and made a drawing of the cub she gifted him, as an excuse and present for her. Kettricken made the gardens beautiful again so she wouldn't be lonely. The Fool carved toys for children, made them happy, Amber carved jewels and wood and made it a life earning. She made friends with Paragon, and with a crow. Which was healed by Fitz, like many other animals, like a wolf he rescued, and all the hurting things he could care for on his path. Fitz raised a boy, supported him, fed chickens. Wrote a lot of books, a lot of letters. He helped Bee have access to her artistic abilities, protected her the best he could even if it was never enough. Did the same with Beloved, and all of the people he cared, it was never enough but the best he could have done and he himself was always enough

My man was DOOMED BY THE NARRATIVE

:(

And what comfort can we get from all this ? Bee still has a family. Fitz and Beloved are finally whole and without limits. Molly died being loved, with a little girl she loved in her very own garden. Patience died moved to see Chivalry. Dutiful has a family he can count on. Nettle has a good man (and the best one I might say) by her side. But somehow it doesn't erase the sadness and bitterness of the journey. And tbh when she releases her next book I know it will mess me up all over again agh. Bee is my favorite, this is going to hurt a lottt.

Ugh why am I crying again. And don't get me started on Beloved's side of this story, or I will violently sob on my carpet. Fitz's is bittersweet but his is just plain sad.

"What were we ?"

it's ok i'm just gonna jump off a cliff in an instant

[shadowuserannie]

@sabrine-bree-the-bravery Hi, I was your Secret Santa! This...unfortunately turned out angsty, but I hope it's alright!

@song-tam Thank you for hosting this and planning it!

For Tumblr version;

Dex Dizznee is in love with Sophie Foster, because that’s just how the story is supposed to go.

He’s heard his mom and dad’s love story retold night after night, when Dex was tired and upset because the people kept coming into the shop, they kept insulting his Dad for stupid things. He’d ask for the story of their love before Dad can even ask “what bedtime story do you want” because he’s seen the looks his Mom and Dad give each other. He’s seen them dance around the other with music, seen them bounce the triplets, he wants to hear about that precious, beautiful thing that makes everything they have, everything they don’t, worth it to them.

(He wants to understand, what kind of love would be worth all of the hate. Maybe if he finds it, too, then having just his too-loud family and whoever he finds will be enough to withstand the bitterness too.)

Mom and Dad were best friends. From kids, even. They went through everything together. Mom stayed by Dad even after his “Talentless” diagnosis when everyone else left, Dad stayed by Mom even when he could barely breathe in the eye of the snowstorm she’d made in her tears. Mom yelled at her parents and packed her bags with her sister’s help and left the same day. Dad’s parents got more distant-more disappointed-until Mom and Dad did them the favor and moved out. Then they married, and they had kids. Their story was unique to other elves’ experiences but similar in many ways.

Sophie Foster was-is-his best friend.

Dex likes seeing her happy-likes it when she doesn’t feel sad. He always wants to cheer her up. He wants her to stay as his friend, a constant he can rely on.

That’s what it feels like to be in love, right?

But then he messes it up-he pushes too far, but Sophie doesn’t hate him. Just stares at the crush cuffs and then back up at him and Dex hates himself but strangely doesn’t really feel disappointed she doesn’t like him back even though he knew that already.

Then she kisses him, and there is nothing to it.

Dex tries-he does, really.

To feel something.

But his breath sucks and his lips are probably too dry and there is-

Nothing.

There’s no spark, no emotion to it.

They agree to stay friends, and that settles something in his heart.

She’ll still be here.

Dex Dizznee loves Sophie Foster-but not in that way, not in the way that demands hand-holding and kisses and romance.

She is his best friend, and he loves her, and they are friends and that is all he will ever want.

It’s all they will ever be.

///

“How do your parents make it work?”

It’s 2am, far too early for his Imparter to ring-much less with a caller as unexpected as Fitz Vacker.

Because-look.

Yes, Dex didn’t hate him anymore. No, that didn’t make them best friends, or even good friends. Yes, he’d worked with him before, could share a space with him now, but there was something about Fitz that just. Felt like a massive separation.

It was still the perfection. It always would be.

Fitz was-is-the Golden Boy. Even with Alvar’s betrayal and the Vackers falling from their pedestals, one step at a time. Fitz’s grades haven’t wavered at all, he shows up every day with the annoyingly always perfect appearance identical to the day before. Gilded smile, full of teeth and just the bit too wide and looking like it was cut out of metal.

Dex has priorities that aren’t grades, but he stresses about them anyway. He is a Foxfire student-he has an opportunity to be more-and if he wastes it, he’d rather die. So, he brews Awake Always, extra-concentrated, right before finals and cramming and tries his best to listen in session.

It’s one such cramming night that he gets the call and forgets to think twice before answering.

“What?”

Fitz-Golden Boy-doesn’t look golden at all. His bangs curl over his forehead, no gel, unlike the time they were so tired at the sleepover that they all slept in whatever state they were in. There are heavy bags under his eyes, comparable to Sophie’s, actually, and there’s no light to his sea glass eyes-no light that always shines whenever he plasters on his clay smile.

Fitz rubs at his eyes. “Sorry, that’s a wildly intrusive question. I think I really need to sleep now-”

“Why are you even up?”

Fitz shrugs. He looks bad, by Elvin standards. Messy hair. Tired eyes. Unsmiling. Uncanny. It’s a beauty that Dizznees appreciate, because there’s something to be found in the ones that don’t look normal.

He should look bad, but by Dex standards he looks beautiful. Not perfect.

“Again, sorry. Bye.”

“Wait-”

The line clicks, and Dex stares into an empty silver screen.

Fitz brings muffins over the next day.

They’re still warm when Dex takes a bite, and they sit at the kitchen table and Mom grabs one too at Fitz’s insistence, to take with her morning tea. Dad kisses her on the forehead, heads off to work-without Dex, because Dex is busy, busier now.

“This is unexpected, but these taste great,” Mom smiles as she eats hers. Fitz beams. Dex doesn’t like his smile-it’s clay, it’s fake, it looks sculpted, and he hates it because he doesn’t really hate Fitz anymore, but he still hates his smile.

“Thanks, I’m glad to hear that.”

Fitz fidgets as he sits, and Dex takes pity on him. “You made these, eat one.”

Fitz’s head snaps up to him. “I-”

“Seriously, did you even eat breakfast?” Dex rolls his eyes and grabs one lushberry muffin, shoving it into Fitz’s hands.

“I-well…I guess this is my apology to you. For last night.” Fitz mumbles, staring at the muffin in his hands and picking at the paper.

The question was weird, but it doesn’t really bother Dex. Even though he gets the feeling it should.

It probably would’ve bothered him more, if he’d been more coherent and it wasn’t 2am and they were still Level Two and Level Four, respectively, but 2am-Dex had no energy to care and present-morning Dex doesn’t either.

“Eat your muffin gift already, it’s no big deal.”

Fitz chews his muffin, and Dex doesn’t watch him as he does, because that’d be weird.

Bex screams something about her dragon cutout getting ruined upstairs. Lex retorts with a vague scream about their dolls getting spoiled last week. Rex tries to play his new self-appointed-for-two-days role of middleman and fails.

Dex snickers because it’s funny as long as they don’t target his stuff, and Mom sighs. She pushes back her chair, gets up and leaves her half-eaten muffin. “Thank you for the…gift, Fitz. I need to-”

“It’s fine, no problem.” Fitz smiles again, and Dex takes a long draught of masala chai instead of thinking about the plastic smile.

“Did you know you scowl whenever I smile?”

Dex stares at Fitz, who looks at him with sea glass eyes. Teal, in the way the water of the Alenon River looks when light hits it right as the channel opens into sea, bouncing off the rocks jutting out from the riverbed. That’s the only way Dex can describe the colour-teal, but it shifts, dancing, beautiful.

“I do?”

“Yeah. Is there something wrong with my smile?”

He says it with such a straight face Dex can’t help but laugh.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, I mean, you’ve been doing it so long that…” Fitz jerks his shoulders, twisting his own half-eaten muffin, red berry juice dripping from the half-bitten berry in the center. “…do you not know?”

“It can’t be every time, right?” Dex pulls a face. That would be seriously embarrassing.

“Well…” Fitz places his muffin on the table. He lifts his hands. “Can I?”

Dex studies the crease between his brows, the slightest, faintest discolouration under his eyes. It’s not obvious. It really isn’t. Dex can only tell there are eyebags under the good makeup job because he saw Fitz yesterday and there were.

Dex kind of wants to take the makeup off. To see the person he managed to catch a glimpse of, yesterday, the guy that looked beautiful even when tired and certainly not perfect.

“I prefer not to see a collection of my scowls when I’m eating breakfast, thanks.”

Fitz’s hands drop. “Right-”

“So,” The muffin tastes tangy in Dex’s mouth. He can’t see perfect Golden Boy, the guy with intricate styled hair and an ironed cape and fancy jerkin sitting in front of him baking in a kitchen. He can’t really imagine the tired Fitz he saw last night doing it either. But he wants to. Wants to see a person who isn’t perfect. And maybe it’s a little insane, that he’s even entertaining this, but some small part of him wants to see what he looks like in Fitz’s head. “Finish up and we’ll go to my room.”

Everything that needs to be neat is neat.

Which means Dex leaves everything else messy.

Alchemy ingredients have to be kept properly, and so do his tech so that a hole doesn’t get blown in the ceiling. Dex learned his lesson…after the first five times.

His room spans a full level, which Dex only doesn’t lord over his siblings because that caused multiple unspeakable incidents. He has loads of clothes, he has trunks of alchemical supplies and whatever he figures will be useful for inventions, and shelves stacked against walls, as many as they can be squeezed between windows. Dex goes with his instincts, because that’s what his Technopathy feels like to him. Going with the flow and letting his heart lead his brain.

Blue and purple irises cover the floor; he got the idea after seeing the alarm-system Sophie’s own carpet was somewhat. Dex’s bed is tucked into a corner, his desks and tables taking primary stage in his room. They weave around each other, in a spiral shape getting smaller and smaller with the center table circular.

 They are littered with his half-baked plans and ideas, full vials of elixirs made and empty vials of elixirs drank, and Dex knows Fitz is just soaking it in as they enter.

He sighs. “It’s a mess, I know-”

“What’s this?”

Fitz points to a broken cylinder in two halves on the closest desk. It’s a discarded plan at the moment.

“Nothing, really. Was just trying to create an energy amplifier.” Dex shrugs.

Fitz…looks intrigued. Not the lost expression people get when he tries to explain, but actually interested. There’s a spark of fascination in his eye, like a cresting wave overtop a rapid. “Really? How?”

Dex explains, just a bit, and Fitz doesn’t lose focus. His questions raise an angle Dex hadn’t thought about. He’s paying attention to Dex and listening.

(Dex remembers trying to explain the Twiggler to Sophie and getting frustrated. He remembers leaving the common area and seeing Fitz’s mouth move out of the corner of his eye, but not hearing a question, if any were asked at all.)

It’s a while before he puts down the energy amplifier with a promise to try Fitz’s suggestions, and then they move to his bed.

It creaks and dips as Fitz sits on the end while Dex curls up with his back to the headboard. Fitz reaches out, taps two fingers to his skull, and Dex finally wonders ‘what are we doing’ before he swirls into Fitz’s mind and sees himself.

In each memory, though, there’s something more.

Yes, Memory-Dex is scowling. But Dex swears he doesn’t look like that-doesn’t look like the way Fitz remembers him. Memory-Dex has sparks, fire in his eyes, and Dex can feel the attention of the memory-Fitz’s attention-pan to him whenever he speaks. The Collection of Scowls isn’t just each individual glare at Fitz’s smile, it’s every time Dex presses his lips into a thin line and his face settles and Dex can’t describe the feeling that churns the memory-Fitz’s feelings. Keefe probably could.

The Collection of Scowls goes on and on, and it’s seriously embarrassing that he really is scowling every time Fitz smiles. It’s forever, and Dex huffs as he turns to mind-Fitz. “Can we please stop seeing me glare at you one more time? That you have a collection of this has got to be blackmail.”

The smile Fitz flashes is-oh.

It’s soft. It’s warm. It’s like sunlight, breaking through teal-coloured rapids and pouring down over the Alenon River. Dex isn’t a poet, but that’s just the only way he can describe the smile. Not artificial, not carved from clay. Beautiful in the slight arch of his mouth and the faint curl of his lip.

“-Dex? I said, I can probably disorganize this or something-”

Stars, Fitz was talking. Dex shoves down the flutters in his stomach, curling butterflies he’s never felt dancing before, and rolls his eyes at Fitz. “And waste this giant collation of every time I’ve ever frowned in front of you? Nah. How much time did you even spend assembling this?”

Fitz stammers and turns his head away, face flushing oddly. “W-well, not that long…”

“Whatever you say.” Dex’s voice is mocking, but his heart thumps at the realization that yes, Fitz Vacker did spent a good amount of time pulling together the collection. For seemingly no reason.

Hm. He’ll go with blackmail.

“Share this with Keefe and I will unleash so many elixirs the Great Gulon Incident will look like a smidge compared to it.”

Fitz snickered. “I don’t doubt it.”

His voice is fond.

Dex doesn’t want to think about why.

Councillor Bronte is easier to work with now that he isn’t being a massive jerk.

That doesn’t make the process easy.

No matter how hard he tries, Dex can’t get the caches to unlock, or react, or open. The security needs DNA, but obviously they don’t have that, so Dex tries his best to figure out ways around it but it’s failing.

He’s tempted to visit Kenric’s Wanderling.

Obviously, he won’t actually do it but judging by the murder in Councillor Bronte’s expression one afternoon, he’s also tempted.

It’s just-his technopathy seems to be failing, his instincts leading him nowhere as he tries to solve the puzzle. There’s no backdoor, no alternate angle, nothing he can exploit. It’s just…nothing.

Dex can’t figure it out. He’s a prodigy of a Technopath, he’s gifted, he’s good, but he’s failing-

Dex blinks and there’s a box of custard bursts in his hands.

“You look like you need it so Councillor Bronte isn’t sour,” Fitz says, with that closed-mouth genuine smile Dex sees more of, now.

Dex coughs so he has an excuse to hide his cheeks. “Thanks.”

He calls Fitz at 3am.

His brain is mush from Universe reviews. And maybe he just wants to see Fitz.

Fitz, who has tousled hair and eyebags Sophie-size and looking as beautiful as he always is. “What?” Fitz yawns.

“You were up?”

Fitz nods, and Dex can glimpse something that looks like a stack of textbooks and notes. “Reviewing?”

There’s a flash of…something to Fitz’s expression before he coughs and looks away. “Yeah.”

Perfect grades perfect everything Fitz Vacker reviews at 3am in the morning.

It makes Dex feel just the bit better.

“I don’t know.”

“Huh?”

Dex swallows.

“I don’t know how my parents make it work. I kind of envy them, but also don’t. I mean, I can see they love each other. I guess I wish I had that kind of love, too. The kind that makes me willing to sacrifice everything to stay together, even if it means the world is forever against us.”

Fitz’s eyes widen. His “Oh,” is soft.

Dex shrugs. It’s weird. It’s too much said. It’s not enough. He doesn’t have enough headspace to really think about what he’s telling Fitz. It’s all filled by star memorizations.

“You’ll find it.”

There. That smile. The smile Dex has come to see is just for him. He’s assembling his own collection of that smile, aimed at him and him alone.

“That person you want to spend your eternity with.”

He sees Fitz and Sophie hold hands the next week.

Dex Dizznee is in love with Fitz Vacker, and he’s terrified of how the story will end.

[iheart-telepaths]

Keefe Sencen!!

me being active? shocker! anywaysss

KEEFE YAAAAAAAAAY i love keefe he cracks me up. i stay away from the ship wars and the whole fitz vs keefe thing, i think they're both good characters with flaws and it is up to you who you enjoy/root for. he is hilarious and i love his silly little coping mechanisms (totally not projecting on him lately). his trauma is rlly important to me and i don't think of him that much but if i had to choose who im most similar to it's him fs. he is definitely flawed as a person, but that's what makes him relatable just like all the other characters. also me and him are kind of twins. blonde styled/fluffy hair, blue eyes, art kid, burnt out gifted, severe mommy issues, same coping mechanisms, immature. yeha i love keefe 🕺 .... hc time ig?

i don't rlly think of him a lot, so these headcanons are pretty impulsive

-bisexual (before the whole sophie love triangle thing i thought him and fitz were 💏. irdk man)

-purposely gets hairspray on his bathroom mirror to make a mess for his dad

-has spent the entire day, multiple times, just trying out new hairstyles (he ultimately decided nothing will outdo The Hair)

-brings a marker everywhere and doodles on ppl, himself, papers etc

-trashes his room when he's mad (also bc of the satisfaction of knowing cassius hates it)

-likes finding little trinkets that remind him of the ppl he cares about

-ik this is random but he has the stupidest funky-pattern socks. he just radiates "i love wearing stupid looking vibrantly colored socks under my monotone outfits" vibes

-freckled keefe when guys like im begging

-avid fan of human fashion magazines (he likes making fun of outfits he doesn't like and draws ppl he thinks r pretty/unique)

-has used bianas makeup and found himself hot (struck a pose in the mirror then audibly gasped when alden walked in to ask if he was staying for dinner)

ik these r random but...idk. it's like midnight and this is on a whim

[zephyrmonkey]

S1 E7 Agents of Shield 10th Anniversary

10 years ago today we…

Laughed at Fitz as he tried to walk through the door. (It’s even funnier when you find out that it was a blooper and that was Iain’s actual reaction to it! The blooper for it is just as funny!)

Felt bad for Fitz and the sandwich as Ward threw it away. (It’s honestly my favorite sandwich. Go try it! It’s so good!)

Smiled as Skye gets Simmons to come out of her shell.

Watched as Coulson and May had a conversation with only one person talking. I think this is where I started shipping them

Loved Fitz messing with Ward.

Laughed as Simmons told Fitz about her adventures while at the HUB

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