#he doesn’t wholly understand BUT HE MUST CARRY ON

[engagemythrusters]

So the reason I personally think Tech is appearing to be doing “fine” about the changes around him (loss of Crosshair and Echo, Havoc Marauder being stolen) is because he is absolutely not.

This guy is deeply autistic coded, to the point where it’s basically canon (the voice actor has mentioned he perceives Tech to be on the spectrum). And as most of us know, autistic people… we don’t do so well with change. We’re really, really bad with it. We like routines so much!

But wait—you may say—why does Tech act like he’s okay with change? Simple, really: you can’t form routines in a galactic war.

Obviously, there’s routines he could keep. Things like… like the order he ate his lunch, the way he brushed his teeth, how he preparde for battle, etc. That’s portable, for the most part. But he’s not in the same place every day. He’s not doing the same thing every day. He’s not even with the same people every day! Everything changes so constantly!

Not to mention, there’s so much grooming (not THAT type) that the clones go through. They grow up specifically for one thing and one thing only: war. Tech’s case was special, obviously, but that likely guaranteed even more grooming. He was special, like his brothers. I bet they had more hands-on training than most—and likely watched just as closely. So can you imagine what would have happened, had the Kaminoans watched him lose his cool over changes? They couldn’t have let that fly. That’s not going to work on the battlefield. If he can’t adapt, he’s dead.

So. Tech needs to adapt. Tech needs to not break with changes. He needs to cope.

How do you cope with something when you can’t cope? Stuff it deep down. Ignore it. Replace the feelings with something else (ie: working out, drinking, bingeing, etc.) and refuse to acknowledge anything else.

Tech can’t keep up with changes. Tech can’t deal with them. So… he doesn’t deal with them. At all. He doesn’t let himself acknowledge the way he would have used to. He bottles them, he ignores them, whatever you want to call it.

(So no fuckin wonder he kept lashing out at Wrecker. How much can a person keep inside before the dam cracks and something leaks through?!)

[revelboo]

The speed in which you crank out fics is concerning. Like, I appreciate it WHOLLY, but are you good? R u ok?

Rest is overrated, I run on stress and coffee. Yes, I’m good. I can write short form like this pretty quickly if I’m not at work or busy.

Humans Are Weird/Cute Headcanons

Humans elicit one of two reactions in Cybertronians. It’s not like they haven’t seen organic life before, but the fact that we look vaguely like most Cybertronians in form? Our faces, our body shapes, two legs and two arms just like them? It either creates an unconscious association that we look like tiny, organic Cybertronians or that the similarities are just unsettling. Compounding it is the way we move, the gestures we use that are so eerily like their own. To make it worse, we’re just so helpless compared to them. Fragile. There’s a tendency to react to us like we would a newborn kitten. And for that protectiveness to eventually slide into possessiveness.

TFP Knockout

• Primus. The first time he saw you in full racing leathers, boots, gloves, and that helmet, he just stopped short in surprise. Thinks of the rare times he’d seen minicons and how you look like one instead of just another squishy, little human. And while he’d initially just been invested in figuring out how an inferior, little human beat him in a race, it doesn’t take long for him to start looking forward to those almost nightly meetings. It becomes less about winning and more about the bull session between you two after. Enjoying when you stand up to him, argue with him, even though you must realize he could hurt you so easily if he wanted to.

IDW Bumblebee

• It’s honestly such a pleasant surprise how tactile humans are. You seem to have no sense of personal space and he loves it, because it’s less lonely when you’re near. You don’t mind being picked up and carried, your little frame so warm in his hands or cradled against him. Always so curious, your little hands exploring his servos, while you smile to yourself. Then holding out your own hands so he can carefully manipulate them with a single servo. It’s like a game between you, showing off your little, blunt teeth so he will bare his denta for you as you sit on his thigh.

IDW Bluestreak

• Knows he can be a bit annoying to some bots, but you never seem bothered by his chatter. Actually asking him questions, interacting and it means so much to him when you stretch out against him, laying a cheek on him to listen to the sound of his voice rumbling through you. Liking it when he talks, wanting to be near him. The big surprise, though? How protective you are of him, not even thinking twice about throwing a shoe at Sunny for making a rude comment aimed at him, your little face red as you snarl at the much bigger bot, who’s too shocked at the outburst to respond.

IDW Starscream

• Having so little to call his own, he’s extremely possessive of you. It doesn’t hurt that you’re always happy to see him, greeting him when he returns from patrol, fussing over his injuries like you’re trying to take care of him. No conniving or plotting in you and no ulterior motives for seeking out his company. Aside from leeching body heat, and he hardly minds that, enjoys the feel of you sprawled against him, the peaceful silence.

TFP Soundwave

• Even though he initially took you because of the effect your strange organic thoughts have on him to try and understand why he can’t shut you out, it’s impossible to stay impartial. Every day he tries to inoculate himself against your thoughts, strengthening that connection through touch. And when you start reaching for him in return it’s a surprise. Eventually you sing for him not because he asked you to in an effort to distract you and focus your thoughts on something so they’re less painful to him, but because you want to. Because you think it makes him happy and it does.

ES Megatron

• He’d never paid much attention to humans until he’d met Dorothy, he’d fought alongside her and suddenly humanity wasn’t just something vaguely annoying getting in his way, under ped. It’s harder to not care after getting to know humans. Harder to not be overprotective about you after making it his mission to look after you. And maybe he’s a bit overzealous about it, because you’re not Dorothy. She can stand on her own and take care of herself, but you? You need him.

IDW Optimus

• He’s so used to being bigger than most Autobots. Of being looked up to, but you’re even tinier than they are. Small enough to carry in one hand even though he’s awkward about asking you to let him carry you at first. But after the spark twisting anxiety of watching you walking where bigger Cybertronians are walking? Seeing it not even occur to you that you might get stepped on? He insists on carrying you for your own safety, though, truth be told, he enjoys the feel of you in his servos, that little bemused smile you aim at him.

IDW Thundercracker

• He feels guilty sometimes about taking you, but it’s for the best even if you’re upset now. He’s seen enough movies to know how to coax you, win you over. He became obsessed with human love stories, the drama and romance. And he wants that for himself. Needs it. So he tries different tactics, little gifts and acts meant to convince you to love him. It’s so easy in the movies.

TFP Megatron

• The game you two play has become something of a guilty pleasure of his. Watching you pretend. Pushing you to see how far you’ll allow before you snap at him. Pretending you aren’t scared of him, though he’s seen the fear in your eyes once or twice and while it had amused him at first, he prefers you snarling back at him, all attitude. Your fear twists unpleasantly through him, but that angry defiance? So lovely.

IDW Soundwave

• He never meant to get so attached to you after he’d found you in Starscream’s quarters that day. You’re just so small and you’d looked at him in fear, your wild emotions almost crippling him since he couldn’t shut it out. Even after you calmed, days later, he finds himself reaching out a thought. Finding you and monitoring you from a distance. Again and again until he’d finally had to check on you in person again. After all, what did Starscream really know about caring for anyone, let alone a human. And that hesitant, little smile had warmed him when you’d looked up at him.

IDW Jazz

• The fact that you can see through his lies and will call him out on it? It’s a surprise and a relief. Letting down his defenses, letting you in takes time. He’s worn that smiling, carefree mask for so long. But he slowly lets it fall away when it’s just the two of you, feeling the absence of that weight he’d carried for so long. Getting to know who he is under the facade.

IDW Prowl

• Has to protect you since you don’t seem to understand just how small and delicate you are. Standing up to him and any other bot with zero fear. Something about that reckless anger calls to him. Around the other Autobots, he has to be the one in control, the one with a plan no matter what. Never allowed to falter or hesitate. You spark his own temper, making it easier to drop the act. Be frustrated or angry when it’s just you two. Be real.

[baphometsss]

On Solas' Mythal regret

Alright so this is just one thing I wanted to get out there. I'm not gonna do one big meta post bc I wanna break down specific things more easily. I hope it's not too jumbled

Spoilers

The Solas / Mythal regret takes place in the Fade.

“What if you left the Evanuris, and remained with me? Surely you must want freedom from this struggle?”

Solas says it not just for Mythal’s sake but for his own; he is essentially begging for her to return to the Fade with him so they can be as spirits again... He doesn’t want to be a person, he never did, and now he can’t return to that life. He was happy in the Fade until she drew him out. Mythal says ‘love’ because she knows that he doesn’t want to be there and she needs to keep him loyal in order to keep the Evanuris at bay. We know that Mythal is manipulative af and this is just more evidence of that.

It’s a regret not just because he couldn’t get Mythal to leave the Evanuris but because it’s the moment he gave up on himself. He knew he couldn’t leave Mythal to do it alone, because he did care for her, but also he was likely bound to her after she pulled him from the Fade. We know that pulling spirits from the Fade makes them lose a part of themselves; in this case, Mythal did this to him deliberately so he would fight in the war.

It was a trauma bond, similar to the bond between Cole, the spirit of compassion, and the real Cole who starved to death in a prison cell. Solas needed to provide Wisdom to prove his purpose, and Mythal kept calling on that. In Veilguard, it’s explicitly stated that as a former spirit, he cannot resist appeals to his true nature. With trauma bonds, you do lose your agency. It’s what they hinge on. The two things combined make for a toxic dynamic.

(I don’t particularly like this personally, but it's what seems to be the intent, but I digress.)

The hidden codex in the Lighthouse’s music room—memories of a duet—is significant in understanding their relationship. To me this is very revealing of their dynamic; Mythal took advantage of Solas when he wasn’t used to having a body and moulded him to be a weapon. She moulded him into the image she wanted him to take, and strung him along the entire time. There’s a big parallel between Divine Justinia/Leliana and Mythal/Solas. Leliana’s personal quest in DAI is about her loyalty to Divine Justinia, whom she sees as a mother and great friend. You can ask her if they were romantically involved, and she says that they were many things to each other, but not that. She too carries a huge amount of guilt for her death, to the point that it can break her if you don’t soften her early on in the game, and she becomes utterly ruthless. The end scene with Mythal releasing Solas from her service has many similarities to Justinia releasing Leliana from hers. Leliana and Justinia were united in part because of their shared spirituality and hopes for the Chantry, and Solas and Mythal were united by the connection they forged as spirits. ‘Being wholly seen…’ Leliana felt the same way about Justinia.

Solas also wore Mythal’s vallaslin, and burned it off his face when he rebelled against the Evanuris. As we know, those are slave markings. He was made to become her servant, and rebelled against her too when he started the rebellion against the Evanuris. (As a side note, and especially if you’ve played BG3, you’ll know how the loss of agency can stick around even after the connection to the abuser has been severed. Astarion’s ‘you made me see that I never stopped thinking of myself as his slave’ really springs to mind here, albeit in a different context.)

This is a big part of why I don’t think he was romantically involved with Mythal. I believe his main role to Mythal in the initial war was as a kind of spymaster, similar to how Leliana is the spymaster for Divine Justinia. Mythal taught Solas to behave in exactly the way she wanted him to.

In fact, in the Inquisitor’s customisation screen when you pick your romance, Solas’s explicitly says that even he didn’t foresee what it would mean to fall in love. So… he canonically hasn’t been in love before. He was not in love with Mythal.

I wanna be clear here; I don’t hate Mythal as such. I mean, I do, because she’s pretty fucked up, but you have to consider her nature. She was a spirit of benevolence. She wanted to take a form because she was afraid of what Elgar’nan would do to the world if she didn’t stop him. Even after taking a body, she can’t change her nature. It became twisted into retribution when she couldn’t stop them from harming the elves or trying to leash the blight. Honestly I could write a whole essay about Mythal too, but I won’t because I still have a ton to write about Solas and Lavellan, but we’ll see.

Anyway I’m gonna leave this one here but I’ll be back with more meta. I have a lot of get through

[msfantasy-comics]

The Opposites Attract

Dick Grayson x Reader

Summary: A Head Cannon on which Dick Grayson and Y/n oppose each other yet remain wholly compatible.

Warning: Y/n is depicted as angsty and a little feral. 

Masterlist - Tip Jar

Opposites attract they say.

Yet Dick and Y/n are such polar opposites surely their difference outweigh each other.

Despite it all, the two love birds gravitate each other due to their completing differences.

Extrovert vs. Introvert

Dick is insanely outgoing and is recharged by socialising. His perfect setting is in a crowded rowdy rooms where the conversation moves like wildfire. Wild and Abrupt.

Y/n on the other hand, prefers a quite space with one-on-one conversations.

In typical extraverted fashion. Dick adopts the introverted Y/n and encourages her to step outside her comfort zone and talk to others.

But it’s just not in her nature.

How the hell are you meant to jump into a conversation?

How are you meant to have a say on a topic when three other people are talking over each other to get their 2 cents in?

You gave up almost immediately and retreated back to your safe corner always from the shoulder bashing and elbow jabbing walk way.

Dick was initially disappointed to see you give up so quickly until he noticed that you were carrying on your socialising in your own way.

You sat silently as strangers poured their heart out to you.

Silently nodding and humming in agreement every now and then before the person sighed, thanked you for listening and walked off.

Dick really admires that about you.

Dick: “Need some company.”

Y/n: “Only if you bring me the good vibes.”

Optimist vs. Pessimist

Dick is a buzzing bundle of bountiful energy.

Dick is never short on absurdly positive outcomes despite all odds indicating otherwise.

Why live in a delusional state? You know the realities of life.

And the reality is that life can be shit and it doesn’t turn out well for everyone no matter how much they try or desperately scramble to achieve their hopes.

Hope is pointless.

There is just something obnoxiously wonderful about Dick.

How is it that your boy wonder lights a flame in you that fills you with certainty that all will be right as long as he is here?

You greatly admire how infectious Dicks positivity can be.

Y/n: “Why keep sending them to Arkham only to escape and ruin lives? Might as well just put an end to their burdensome presence.”

Dick: “Oh honey nooooo. Everyone deserves a chance at redemption. Snuffing out the life of a person doesn’t solve the root of the issue.”

Y/n: “Who cares! Nothing matters in the end anyway, we will all die and become obsolete. Only to let the next generation bitch and moan about the inequality of it all.”

Dick: “Ah, my precious little sunshine can be such a downer, yes you can.”

*Condescendingly pinches cheeks*

Secretive vs. Open

Dick just wants the best of both worlds.

To be the figure head for heroism, hope, peace and safety, without an of the consequences of having your image publicly known.

Dick would never want to endanger the lives of those around him due to his passions in crime fighting.

Therefore, he must maintain the secrecy of the bat and the mask.

You, however, don’t understand how or why your boy wonder hides his true identity.

It’s not like Dick Grayson is an every day normal civilian.

He’s a fricken heir to Gotham wealthiest philanthropist.

It’s not like he doesn’t have any privacy on either alter egos.

But the Bats secret is not your own to share.

So instead you live freely by your own rules.

You admit your identities and aren’t afraid to show the public your true self.

You honestly couldn’t care less about public perception.

Dick, admires your unapologetic lifestyle.

Aggressive Random: “You shouldn’t -“

Y/n: “Piss Off- no one asked you.”

Dick: “Ah sweetie… maybe you should listen to what they have to say.”

Y/n: “I couldn’t give a rats!”

[loserchildhotpants]

gonna cross-post this on ao3 w my other tumblr prompt fics soon i swear and now i can’t find the post but someone posited a long time ago on here that we should’ve gotten a chance to see a widower!cas arc and anyway, here’s the first part

this is a replacement/re-do of Amara’s ‘gift’ to Dean when he goes to sacrifice himself pls enjoy

(im gonna reblog this original post w the updates as i add onto it so if u want the continuation, check the notes)

Windows

(Part One)

Once Sam is inebriated enough to slip into dreamless sleep, Castiel gently lays Sam’s tear-stained face against his pillow, and tucks him in as he believes humans prefer. He thinks he does it correctly, because Sam doesn’t fuss or move much afterward.

Castiel knows Sam is deeply exhausted.

The evening was spent celebrating the destruction of Amara, the saving of the world, but mostly it was spent mourning Dean, and Castiel drank with Sam so as not to force Sam to drink alone (as is socially unacceptable for reasons Castiel still struggles to understand), but he is in no way inebriated. 

Castiel considers watching over Sam as he sleeps, monitor his dreams to see to it that he sleeps peacefully, just as a task to keep himself preoccupied, but he thinks to himself that Sam is of a similar mind to Dean, and Dean never wanted to be watched over. 

At least, not by Castiel.

When Castiel shuts Sam’s bedroom door behind him, he wonders what to do with himself.

There are many things to do, he supposes. He has been tasked with seeing after Sam, and that guardianship was not passed down to him lightly. He takes it very seriously, and internally, he has already accepted his eternal loneliness on Earth, guarding over whatever bloodline Sam extends, on and on until there is no Winchester of this blood for him to look after.

The first task that had come to mind when he returned to the bunker with Sam was to seek out Dean in Heaven, but Castiel cannot access the Host, and even so, he cannot sense Dean anywhere near it. 

He isn’t concerned that Dean is in Hell or Purgatory – he’s concerned Dean’s soul has been destroyed.

Even now, Castiel extends his limbs of light out into the universe, to its furthest edges, he can see where no light has ever touched or ever will touch, and still – he cannot sense Dean.

Dean is lost to him, wholly and completely. 

Stiltedly, he walks down the hall, falters near Dean’s bedroom door, pauses, considers, but carries on until he gets outside.

The night is cool and quiet, even the smallest creatures of the Earth are sitting shiva with him.

Still, he has never felt so alone, and this despair sloughs off him, sickening the ground, permeating the sky.

The unpaved road splinters where he steps, the night sky is overcome by shadow, sharp winds begin to build speed, and flashing lightning strikes.

He walks and walks, the ground trembles in fear beneath him, parting like the Red Sea, tears build in his human eyes as his ethereal eyes search across planes and waves for any sign of Dean.

There are none.

This is my fault, Castiel continues to berate himself with this mantra that has been tattooed across his mind all day, this is my fault. You would be here, were it not for me. I’ve failed you. I’ve only ever failed you. Why did you not let me come with you? I would have preferred the destruction of myself than to know existence without you.

Walking the Earth without Dean somewhere within it is so instantly abhorrent and unnatural. 

Castiel doesn’t know why he’s walking, only that he must move, he must stay in motion or he will become something truly terrible, something horrible and nameless and evil will overtake him. 

He walks as he might through a desert, as he has been ordained to by a power he does not know.

He walks all night, the storm above and around him fells trees, ruins roads and footpaths, animals flee from the field of energy he emanates, and eventually he finds himself atop a hill of thin, wild grass that shivers all around him. 

Standing in place, Castiel searches the barren world around him, casting his eyes far and wide, despite knowing he will find nothing, because he has found nothing across realms and planes and vibrations all night.

He thinks he hears Dean’s laughter, but it is only the rumbling of thunder Castiel’s mood has conjured some clicks to the West.

He scowls up at the sky; scowls at his own unmasking.

He thinks of how he has felt when Dean has smiled at him, he worries that his memory is false, that it cannot capture the authentic beauty of the real thing, and a smothering warmth hits him, but it’s not coming from within.

He looks over his shoulder and there – beyond the storm, the Sun dares to rise, and the first tendrils of light are slipping past the horizon, brazen enough to reach toward him like they have any right.

Enraged, he turns to the Sun and extends both his hands, pushing down and back.

Expending this kind of effort means that his wings materialize, so do many hundreds of his eyes, because he cannot keep them contained; his innate holy light bursts and burns from beneath his human skin in a way that would turn any on-lookers to pillars of salt. Mercifully, he is alone for many miles in all directions.

His power effects the nature around him and the grass around him grows rapidly, twisting like vines, shifting and changing into something that is not meadow grass anymore; a crevasse cracks open along the ground like a jagged road leading from the toe of Castiel’s Oxford to the tip of the horizon.

Some of the plants surrounding him turn to glass and shatter, some melt, some turn into winged things, taking off into the storm that gathers above him.

The Sun pushes back on him so hard that his feet leave skids in the dirt where he’s dug in his heels, and he roars under the strain.

“Enough!” he screams in a thousand voices, all booming and terrible with might, “he isn’t here! He isn’t here and so you will not cast light! Get thee behind me!”

Tears stream down his human face, but all of his many eyes weep as well, sparking fires where their tears land, casting purple, blue, and white flames; some fall to the Earth as diamonds and pearls, skittering across the soil, hurriedly tucking themselves below and sprouting up ghost orchids, twisting vines and balls of lightning crackling up toward the sky.

“Gnay ge mir ol!” Castiel cries, booming as war drums, but stars have never understood Enochian, “do not torment me! You are an offense! What can you do but bear witness and draw into abominable light a world that can never be home to me! He is gone from me! Tia i abiit lrasd ol! Please!”

The ground shudders, and though Castiel can hold it back for perhaps half a minute, the Sun does climb again, stronger than him, and more dutiful than he ever could be.

Unlike him, the Sun was crafted with perfection, and does not fail.

It bursts over the horizon, and Castiel staggers back.

He gasps with a thousand pains, unaware he could hurt in so many ways at once, and he falls to his knees, folding until he is bent over his knees; his fists are in the dirt he’s made muddy with a plague of blood, he turns his hands out so he can hide his face in them and he screams with his true voice into his human hands and into the bleeding Earth.

He weeps, his six wings flap in tandem, putting out the fires all at once, and then they fold and drape over him, hiding him; the Sun beats back his storm, pushes light unto the world where he has been pulling a mourning shroud over it.

He grips hard at his fringe, cries as an animal does, wounded noises he has never before made or heard come from him; he makes them, some loud, some soft, for a long stretch of time, but eventually, he calms.

In time, he finds himself lying in the miracle-laden grass, covered in oil, blood, and ash for some reason. He can’t recall where the ash may be from. He has been unjust, and so he will remain so, he believes, and he is filthy now, and so filthy he will remain. 

Was he ever righteous? Was he ever holy?

Whatever he is, the last of it is clear – he is not Saved. 

That much has never been more evident than it is now.

“Time should not pass,” he says to no one, in a flat, tired, singular voice, “I am weary and burdened, and what redeemed me has been taken from me. There is nothing left for me but to be thrown out and trampled underfoot. There is no mercy in this. Have I truly done such evil, to be deserving of this?”

He knows no one will answer. No one ever does.

He thinks of the color of Dean’s eyes, mossy, hazel, how the curl of his lashes framed them, how expressive they were, how they shone with lights enough to lead him home.

“I thought, for a time, I may find peace. With him. Eventually. But peace is not for me, is it? I am a sword, and all I bring with me is ruin.”

His many eyes and wings are tucked into another plane, he comes to his knees again, tilts his face toward the Sun, and the light dries his tears. That star pities him.

Exhausted, he stands; he casts his open palm over the ground most affected by him, and his mismatched, wayward miracles clear away, leaving unremarkable Earth.

As he walks back to the bunker, he seals the cracks in the roads and paths, deer and birds and wildlife return to their joy and lives, and by the time he is presentable and sat in the kitchen, Sam is just waking.

[thelonelybrilliance]

2023 Fanfic: TolkienGirl

Delighted to say that I wrote a mix of old and new this year! May 2024 bring the end of The Figurehead, some exciting new Silmarillion Gold Rush AU installments, and the reveal of a delightful project @mapleymood and I have been crafting!

You can find all relevant updates to the Silmarillion Gold Rush AU, "All That Glitters," here. Is it a wildly niche special interest? Yes. Is it wholly addictive for both readers and authors? Sure is! Go forth and prosper, 'tis your Manifest Destiny.

Otherwise...

Friday Night Lights:

Nostos - [Tyra, S5] In the grey, quiet hours spent packing up her things, Tyra can admit that there’s something bittersweet about the ease and uncertainty that go hand-in-hand in her new life. Turns out you can mix with other people pretty easily in the day-to-day, but the friendships don’t stick at the end of a semester; the end of a year.

doubt truth to be a liar - [Tyra, Pilot] It’s a quiet exodus, for ten thousand people. Sure, there’s the thunder of footsteps—the growl of city-like traffic, a town come alive for one night only—but that’s all. There’s no victory. The loss covers everything, heavy and silent as nightfall.

elemental - [Lyla v. Tyra, S2] Summer hits hot and heavy, no chance of rain. Thunderstorms crackle along the edges of the sky sometimes, but mostly, the sun just holds the whole world in its white-hot sway.

all the worst things in life come free to us - [Tyra, S1] Tyra isn’t easy, exactly—it’s just that life is hard.

holding the matches - [Lyla, S1] There were lines between all the lives you used to live, before Jason fell—classroom life, cheer life, school life, home life. Now there’s a secret life you can never bring into the light. Now, you have to consider the difference between little white lies and the kinds of sins that damn you.

the thief of joy - [Lyla, outsider POV, S1] The thing about Lyla Garrity...

a dim light far in the distance - [Matt, Pre-Series] Matt doesn’t know if he’s more than halfway decent at anything.

nothing that still bewildered - [Tyra & the Taylors, S1] Life’s been turned on its head, and now Tyra is corrupting wide-eyed Julie Taylor and feeling weirdly protective while she does it.

Red Rising:

either way, I forgot his name by heart - [Cassius & Julian, Pre-Series] Cassius is half a whole.

something warm roars at tonight's torn edge - [Darrow/Mustang, Red Rising] Here is how the balance between them settles: he catches her gaze, when she is hiding, and he lets her go. She finds him wounded, cut down by the one who seemed to love him like a brother, and she makes a home with him.

in the interest of truth - [Mustang & Victra, Iron Gold] Virginia will never let herself be too soft for any world. It is Mustang who has become weak—the girl who survived too stubbornly to ever truly learn wisdom.

deep worlds you lived before, deep worlds hereafter - [Roque & Mustang, post-Red Rising] “The question, I suppose, is whether one can love a man one does not understand.”

Teatime - [The Jackal, Morning Star] Your whispers, your offers, must seem gift-like. Before long, the rust-stained bastard will be wholly yours, body and mind. You don’t believe in souls.

born to raise the sons of earth - [Mustang & House Telemanus, Pre-Series -> Morning Star] She’s proven Eo right. And it wasn’t because of me. It wasn’t because of love. It was because it was the right thing to do, and because mighty Kavax was more a father to her than her own ever was.

The Summer I Turned Pretty:

even a river will die of thirst - [Jeremiah, S2] “You have so much love to give,” your mom says to you—at five, at seven, at sixteen. Maybe she’ll be saying it when you’re forty. You try to imagine your mom old, with white hair and wrinkles, carrying the years like wisdom. You can never quite picture it.

till forever falls apart - [Jeremiah, post-S1] They’re going to bury your light with her.

a reminder that all mistakes are not reversible - [Jeremiah, S1] Being a Fisher is a closed-door affair.

we possess nothing certainly (except the past) - [Jeremiah, Pre-Series] Conrad comes home early on a Tuesday, and just like, the world turns upside down again.

my name a past tense (where I left my hands for good) - [Jeremiah, S2] You’ve gotten everything off your chest, which leaves your heart exposed. It sucks, coming in second place all your life.

Stranger Things:

The Figurehead - [Stancy, speculative S5] When the first flakes of living ash begin to fall, Steve isn’t ready. He’s never ready. That’s not what counts.

to the young who want to die - [Steve, S4] You don’t get used to the end of the world; you get used to the time it takes the apocalypse to actually get on with it. 

Lockwood & Co.:

Convalescence - [End of S1] Lockwood assures them that the pain is nothing, and more importantly, “They’re letting me keep the bullet.”

more heaven than a heart could hold (an exquisite extreme, I know) - Lucy considers all the contradictions that make up A. Lockwood.

Captain America: The Winter Soldier:

among the vanishing - [Steve & Bucky] How can you give what was never yours?

Middlemarch:

much ambition and an irrepressible hopefulness - [Mary Garth/Fred Vincy] Mary could not refuse a proposal he had not made, and she could not urge one that she did not believe herself able to accept.

And a fun little update to @mapleymood and my other project, Still Life!

[cityandking]

daichi/zaref + "a kiss where it no longer hurts" 0.9k

It isn’t the first time they’ve undressed in front of each other, or even the second, but it’s the first time Zaref pauses, fingers pausing at the small buttons of his tunic. Daichi notices it with half a mind, preoccupied picking at the tiny knot on his undershirt. The ties have begun to fray, and he has trouble separating the strands enough to tie it back tomorrow. He’ll need to replace it soon.

When he finally gets it undone, Zaref is still standing there, watching him. Daichi regards him quietly. It isn’t the first time or the second, but Zaref’s attention is new, steady as a touch. Daichi has always found eyes a heavy weight to carry, but he bears Zaref’s gaze as easily as breathing.

When he stays silent, Daichi clears his throat a little. “Zaref?”

“Does it,” he starts, and his words trail into smoke. Daichi frowns at him and then down at himself, and he understands.

“It’s alright,” he says, finger smoothing over the shiny raised line of scar tissue scored under his sternum. It isn’t all that large, truly; he can cover the length of it with his palm. No wider than a blade, really. No wider than Zaref’s blade.

Neither of them look at the sword where it rests against the wall. Daichi doesn’t often think of it, the sharp, breathless shock of steel sheathed inside his body. Mostly when he thinks of it he remembers Zaref, the green gleam of someone else's control bleeding away, his eyes wholly his own when they met Daichi’s over the hilt. Steady as a touch.

“It doesn’t hurt,” he says, honest. “Here.”

It isn’t the first time they’ve touched or even the second. There are a hundred hundred points of contact between them: the precise strike of a spar and the firm hand of a healer and the quiet touch of a friend. The stained-glass whisper of a kiss. But this is new. Tender.

He’s slow to lend his hand, so Daichi is slow as he steps into his touch, bringing Zaref's palm up to his chest. His fingers are cool against sun-warmed skin, light enough that he barely feels it.

“I’m sorry,” Zaref says, stilted, eyes fixed on the wound. Daichi watches him, the unreadable dark of his gaze, the wisping of his horns. He has taken his hair down for the night, and it falls around his shoulders like moonlight. His touch is so careful.

“It’s alright,” Daichi says again, quieter. He's never wholly sure if Zaref hears him in these moments, so he will say things as often as he must. He presses his hand over Zaref’s, holding it close against the thunder of his heart and the warmth of his body and the tender tract of skin all around his scar. “I’m alright.”

Zaref’s head ducks further, hand pulling back. For a moment Daichi thinks he will move away altogether, but instead he bends in, hunching to press cool lips against the knotted scar. Daichi’s breath catches there in his lungs.

New. This is all new. He doesn't know what to do with it, and doesn't want it to end.

“I’m sorry,” Zaref says again as he straightens, hair a curtain, mouth a firm line. Daichi is helpless with the desire to kiss it, so he does. He likes the way Zaref softens against him. He likes the hand against his chest, palm over scar.

“I know you wouldn’t hurt me,” Daichi tells him. "Not of your own free will." That is something he has never doubted. There have been other mistrusts and silences between them, but not this.

Zaref stays silent. Daichi holds his gaze for a moment, then turns to shrug out of his undershirt, hanging it over the back of a chair.

“You keep me safe,” he continues into Zaref’s careful quiet, pulling on clothes for sleep. “You keep them safe. I rest easier when you’re near at hand.”

With his back turned, he can't see Zaref's face, but he hears the heave of his sigh.

“I should be nearby more often, then,” he says after a moment.

Daichi likes the sound of that almost as much as he likes the wry quirk Zaref’s mouth makes when he turns back around. “My rest would certainly appreciate it,” he agrees, sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting. The quirk becomes more pronounced, and Zaref’s fingers return to the buttons of his shirt, picking them apart.

“I do have your back,” Zaref says later, when the lights are dimmed and they lie together in their borrowed bed. “Even if I haven’t before.”

“I know you do,” Daichi says. He always has, even if he did not understand why or how before. Zaref’s hand finds his chest and Daichi holds it there, feeling his own heartbeat under Zaref's palm. It’s impossible to feel the scar through the soft scrunch of his sleep shirt, but that doesn’t stop either of them. Daichi blinks across the pillow and finds Zaref staring back, shades of silver and black.

“I don’t intend to go anywhere," he says softly, and from the way Zaref flinches, he understands this is the true fear. "I'm right here."

He means it. There are still days when unbeing sounds the better choice, but they grow fewer and further between, and he would be a poor healer, a poor protector, to give in to what is easy over what must be done.

"I know." Zaref’s hand sits against his chest, a reminder. "I believe you."

The belief means more than Daichi knows how to say, so he does not say anything. But his mouth tilts up in the dark, and his sleep, for the first time in some months, is untroubled.

[flownintothesun]

 ⋆ ✰ ⋆ ───    𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐦𝐞, 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐮𝐩 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐤𝐲 (𝐅𝐞𝐲!𝐉𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 @ 𝐅𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞!)

                          ⋆ ✰ ⋆ ─── 𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬. ( @batteredoptimist )

       𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐀𝐋𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐃 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐀 𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐏𝐇𝐎𝐑 — a beautiful something to close the book of one’s life. He had grown up Catholic, but neither his mother nor his father were really practicing so much as using the notion of ‘God’ where it best served them. He supposes that means that when they think of death, they think of heaven and hell. How would they feel to know that their son is dying in a forest surrounded by the Fey, and other such impossible creatures. He’s so young still — and yet, it does seem like his journey has been a long one. His only regret is that there was so little time spent with James. It doesn’t seem fair — though he supposes that most things in life don’t, when all is said and all is done. James gets to live forever. Francis’s life to his most beloved will be a drop in an ocean.

       The light, as it turns out — isn’t a metaphor after all. It starts with spots around your vision — like the kind you get when you’ve stared too long at the sun. But what he’s staring at now is James’s face — grief-stricken, tears falling down the apples of his cheeks. It’s so rare that one attends their own funeral. So fitting that he will return to the Earth. It had taken him so long to learn, to understand — and there’s still so much left to go. He never got to finish James’s song. He supposes that his darling will simply have to carry it with him wherever he goes. Coco and Muriel say that there’s nothing they can do — that his death must happen. It’s connected to James somehow, though that’s where it gets fickle — that’s where he doesn’t understand.

      In one of his episodes, he’d been given wings — wings like James’s, like a Faery. He doesn’t understand why they can’t make the change permanent — why he has to let go now, and find out what comes after James’s sweet face succumbs to the light. He’s never been one to push back too hard — but if not now, then when? His brow furrows as James speaks to him. Francis wants to ask what comes after death — but his tongue is heavy, and there are more pressing issues at hand. Hand. He seeks out beloved’s hand — soft and warm, and James fiddles with his fingers. It’s almost human. Sometimes, he’s almost human — and sometimes he’s so wholly magic that Francis simply looks on in awe. He wants to stay — wants to be a part of James’s story — or at the very least get to watch him, help him.

     “No,” he croaks, “You’ll find me.” It’s desperate, and Francis feels two tears trickle down his cheeks, “If I come back, you’ll find me, right, mon amour?” This time it’s him squeezing James’s fingers — and he shoves back at the light with everything in him. “I don’t want to live in a world without your kindness and your goodness and your magic. It would be empty. Like a book unwritten.” There is no Francis without James — there never could be — never a whole person, anyway. “You’ll find me, darling — and we’ll do all of the things we should have done. We’ll dance under the stars and I’ll finish your song. I’ll remember.” How could he forget? It’s clear that if multiple lives exist — that his have all been connected to his darling. He’s been dreaming of him forever. He would try again for James. “I could never forget you.”

[martelldoran]

WHAT'S THE CAUSALITY LOOP THEORY

Why Emma, thank you so much for asking. I’m not going to waste time before jumping into this because this is gonna get long so without further ado...

Steve Rogers’ Ending and How Endgame Doesn’t Support a Causality Loop and other such rambles

Last month, I came across a TikTok that proposed that Steve’s ending made sense because it existed within a causality loop. I would link the TikTok but I didn’t save it at the time and trying to find videos on that app is impossible. You think Tumblr’s search function is bad? 🙄 But I digress. The TL;DR of the video is that due to time travel and Steve choosing to go back in time to be Peggy’s husband, it created a causality loop where he was always meant to be her husband because he went back in time and stayed there. The TikToker supported his argument by using Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (PoA), another film that uses time travel and has a clearly defined example of a causality loop. However, his argument is fundamentally flawed so I’m going to combine my knowledge of my two biggest fandoms to tell you why.

Continued under the cut because I have no chill. Beware, it's long.

To first tell you how Endgame (EG) doesn’t support a causality loop, we must establish how PoA does establish one and does it successfully. The TikToker specifically mentions the scenes that take place at Hagrid’s Hut surrounding Buckbeak the hippogriff’s execution, so we’ll look at those first. What the film does really well is establish early on that there is something weird going on well before anyone actually goes back in time. There are three things that happen in quick succession during this scene which sets up the causality loop we see later in the film. First, a rock flies through the window and breaks a jar. Second, another rock hits Harry in the back of the head. Third, once outside, Hermione hears a branch snap and thinks she sees ‘something’. There are also two additional moments later on in the film once the Harry, Ron, and Hermione have come out of the Shrieking Shack which should also be noted: a wolf howl that distracts Remus Lupin in werewolf form from attacking the group and somebody casting a full-bodied stag patronus at the edge of the lake to save Harry and Sirius from the Dementors.

Of these occurrences, the first is arguably the most important because it does the most to establish that there is something going on outside of the Trio’s current understanding of their situation. The film makes a point to frame the jar breaking as Important Information the Audience Must Remember because it shows a visibly confused Hermione reacting to it as she picks up the rock for closer inspection and we the audience are given close up of it in her hand. Not only is it framed front and centre in the shot but the rock itself is very distinctive. It’s almost wholly smooth but for a swirl of fossil, thus marking it as not just any rock but An Important Rock To Be Remembered. This was an intentional choice by director Alfonso Curon because he uses this rock to connect this moment to its mirrored scene later on once Harry and Hermione use the Time Turner.

The audience and the characters find out about the causality loop at the same time. There are clearly stated rules of time travel that say that they aren’t to meddle with time but when Harry and Hermione see that Dumbledore, the Minister for Magic, and the executioner are on their way to Hagrid’s hut they panic because their counterparts aren’t leaving. Then, we see Hermione notice something in the pumpkin patch: a distinctive rock, smooth with a swirl of fossil. Again, we see have a close up shot with the rock centred to show its importance. Stylistically, it’s very similar to the shot we saw earlier in the film which gives the audience an emotional pay off for noticing the connection. When Hermione throws the rock and breaks the jar, it sets the causality loop in motion. The jar was always going to break because they went back in time to throw the rock that breaks it.

And it’s the same with all the other instances. Hermione throws the second rock that hits Harry in the back of the head to alert him to the fact they need to get out of the hut. Hermione snaps the branch and is almost seen by her counterpart in the past. Hermione makes the wolf call to distract Lupin from attacking. Harry, and not his father as he had assumed, casts the patronus to save himself and Sirius from the Dementors. But each of these moments are set up clearly in the ‘first run through’ to set up their payoff when the characters realise, ‘Oh, I did these things. They were always meant to happen.’ From a narrative standpoint, these are planned out moments to clue the audience into the fact that there’s something bigger at play. It keeps them ‘in the loop’ as it were.

This doesn’t happen in EG.

To successfully have set up a causality loop that made sense and had the same kind of set up and pay off as we see in PoA, it would have had to have been established as early as 2014 in Captain America: The Winter Soldier (CA:TWS). This does not happen. One of the main themes of CA:TWS is moving on from the past. Peggy Carter herself even says, “I’ve lived my life, my only regret is that you didn’t get to live yours.” Then saying soon after, “Sometimes the best thing we can do is to start over.” Peggy’s character in Captain America: The First Avenger is set up as someone who acts as the backup/back bone of Steve’s own moral compass. When Steve falters at Azzano about what to about the captured 107th, Peggy is there to remind him of what is right. She serves a similar narrative function in CA:TWS. Steve is struggling with life in the present. He’s just seen the helecarriers and argued with Nick Fury about protection vs fear after the botched Lumerian Star mission. Morally, he’s in turmoil and has turned to Peggy for council because he’s trying to find purpose in world where his rigid morality seems to have no place.

From the point of view of creating a causality loop, one would think that this scene in the hospital would be the place where an initial set-up could be made and alert the audience to the long term plan for Steve’s character. Instead, we have Peggy mourning the fact that Steve didn’t get to live his life the way it should have played out, and why would a woman who has supposedly been married to another version of Steve tell him to move on? In addition, when Steve visits the Smithsonian, he watches a video where he sees Peggy talking about how he influenced her life and how during one of his missions, he saved the man that would go on to become her husband. This is the only mention of Peggy’s husband in the entire franchise until Steve reappears as an old man at the end of EG.

Captain America: Civil War (CA:CW) also offers an opportunity to set up the causality loop at Peggy’s funeral but again, this does not happen. The only family we are introduced to is Sharon Carter, Peggy’s grand-niece. When it comes to filmmaking, every choice made is intentional. From the hair and makeup to the clothes, to the music used, everything in a film means something whether it is to further character development, world-building, or the plot. Filmmakers have a limited amount of time to convey a story and anything that doesn’t matter isn’t shown. Therefore, we can conclude from the text of the film that Peggy’s husband doesn’t matter to the narrative. The person in Peggy’s family who matters to the narrative is Sharon Carter which is why she is given prominence during CA:CW’s funeral scene. Had the causality loop been set up here, there would have been a defining moment like in PoA where the audience is clued into the larger story arc. Maybe someone says something, or he meets his older self, but that doesn’t happen. It should also be noted that apart from a small scene in Ant Man, Peggy isn’t mentioned again until EG.

In Endgame itself, the film still fails to set up a causality loop. It could be argued that this is the most important film for the set-up because this is when the audience gets the payoff. The first thing we see after the 5-yer time jump is Steve in a group therapy session for those that survived Thanos’ snap. Survivors share their stories and Steve talks about Peggy, a woman who has been dead in canon for 7-years and who died of old age. It’s incongruous and sticks out because narratively it doesn’t make sense for him to talk about her and not someone he watched disintegrate in front of his eyes. Steve watches his best friend and hundreds of others turn to ash around him and that film ends on his horrified face as he sits by his best friend’s ashes. Narratively, this is the thread that should carry through to EG but instead, he talks about missing his chance with Peggy. However, unlike PoA, there is no indication whether through dialogue or framing that clues the audience into Steve’s eventual ending at the end of the film.

Even when he goes back to the 70s, we see him looking mournfully at Peggy through the blinds in her office and a picture of him, pre-serum, on her desk. Steve and Peggy’s relationship prior to Endgame is supposed to represent the bittersweet loss of the life he could have had had he not sacrificed himself to the cause in CA:TFA. Then, since the audience knows from Steve and Peggy’s conversation in the hospital in CA:TWS that she moved on from Steve to live a happy life, we can assume that this picture is meant as nothing more than a fond memento of someone that meant a lot to her. Once more, there is no indication that Steve is ever meant to be her husband.

It’s impossible to infer a causality loop here in the same way as we saw in PoA. In PoA, there is a payoff for every single unusual or weird moment the story presents the audience before and after the use of time travel but this is something that’s completely absent from Endgame’s narrative. Steve himself doesn’t even vocalise a desire to go back in time at any point in EG nor at any point during the other films he appears in. In fact, when questioned by Tony Stark about the possibility of ‘going home’ in Avengers: Age of Ulton, he says, “The guy who wanted all that went in the ice 75 years ago. I think someone else came out.” While it is indicative of his unhappiness in the modern-day, it does indicate a level of acceptance of the fact that this is his life and he has to make his peace with it. He’s taken what Peggy said in CA:TWS on board. He’s starting over and moving on.

With time travel, and Steve choosing to stay in the past came the fan theory that one of the pallbearers carrying Peggy’s casket in CA:CW is Old Man Steve, her husband. When presented with this fan theory, writer Christopher Markus said during an interview with the LA Times at SDCC 2019,

“I would very much like that. There is no set explanation for Cap’s time travel . . .I mean, we’ve had public disagreements with [directors Anthony and Joe Russo] about what it [time travel] necessarily means, but I love the idea of there being two Steve Rogers in the timeline. One who lived a long life with Peggy and is in the background of that funeral scene watching his young self carry his wife’s coffin up. Not just for the time travel mumbo jumbo of it, but for the just weird, personal pain and satisfaction that would be happening between two Steve Rogers there. I kind of love it.” [emphasis mine]

This shows that unlike in PoA there was no intention of creating a causality loop prior to Markus writing EG with his writing partner Stephen McFeely. In fact, it makes clear that the actual rules of time travel were in contention and that even those making the film didn’t have a unified idea of what they wanted to create in the first place. The fact that there is confusion surrounding EG's time travel is due to the fact that the people behind it, didn't seem to know what they were writing or consider the consequences of it.

What all of this shows is that an argument of a PoA style causality loop doesn’t hold water. The film doesn’t support it, nor do any of the previous films, because there aren’t any indicators for the audience to latch onto. There is no moment of the rock breaking the jar, or the patronus chasing away the dementors, no moment where that the audience is told to hold into this information for later because there’s some timey wimey stuff going on. Ultimately, when examined, there is no set-up for a causality loop that supports the theory he was always supposed to go back and be Peggy’s husband, particularly when examined against a film that successfully lays it out from the start.

Right, the more academic (lol) part of this post is done. I just want to address one more TikTok that bothered me because I have opinions and MCU Captain America is my Mastermind specialist subject.

The TL;DR of this one was that Steve’s ending made sense because he got out of the fight and was at peace and that that has been the ultimate goal of his character arc. This person argued that Steve used the Avengers to distract himself from the fact that he’s this man out of time and he can’t find peace without a fight which to some extent, I agree with. I don’t deny that that is a major driving force to his story. We see that in Age of Ultron with his WandaNightmare. I don’t deny that that is key to his character. However, this creator then made a comment at the end of this video to the tune of, ‘bUt BuCkY iS hIs StOrY aRc’ and tried to play it off like this wasn’t true or that people were wrong to think that this is the case.

These two things aren’t mutually exclusive. They’re both true. They’re intertwined. But you cannot say that Bucky Barnes isn’t at the heart of Steve Rogers’ story. Bucky was the catalyst for every single one of Steve’s movies. He becomes CA because of Bucky. He goes against SHIELD because of Bucky. He defies 107 countries and the Sokovia Accords because of Bucky. You take Bucky out of the equation and what do you have? What happens in those films if you take Bucky Barnes out of the equation? Viewing it objectively, and even without shipper goggles on, you simply cannot sit there and claim that Bucky Barnes isn't a defining component to Steve’s story. Steve Rogers is motivated by Bucky Barnes. Steve Rogers is motivated by the depth of their relationship and the fact that Bucky Barnes is one of the few things connecting his new present to his old life.

You can definitely see the fact that Steve is uncomfortable in the modern world. He doesn’t address any of his trauma but he still attempts to move on. However, if they wanted him getting out of the fight and finding life as a civilian to be the natural end to his story arc then there was a way to do it which didn’t require him going back to Peggy. It would have been a better and more satisfying ending if he’d actively chosen to retire because I often see the argument that him going back to Peggy is him finally allowing him to be selfish after shouldering so much over the past decade or more. If Steve chose to retire and put himself first, then that sends a better message. He’s still getting the chance to ‘be selfish’ but he’s not throwing the life he’s built away. At this point in EG, he’s spent a huge portion of his adult life in the modern-day. This isn’t the future for him anymore, it’s the present and he’s lived a life and made real connections with people. The MCU does a piss poor job of showing the interpersonal relationships between the Avengers but he is at least shown to be friends with Sam, Nat, and Bucky.

But he goes back to a delusion. Or an idea of something that was never his in the first place.

When I see people make these videos and share their opinions, I can see their points but it’s like they’re taking EG on its own when that's impossible. Endgame only ‘works’ if you have the context of 10 years’ worth of films. You have to at least be somewhat familiar with the characters, who they are and what they’ve done up until now to be able to make sense of it.

However, in saying that, they wrote and filmed the movie in a way to make you think you didn’t have to take into account anything you’ve seen in the past ten years. If you only watch Endgame, you only see a grieving man mourning the love he never had. You see a man, regretful that he didn’t get to be with woman he loved. So at the end, of course it would make sense that he goes back to her. But you can only do that if you completely divorce Endgame from its ten-year canon and in a franchise like this where they make a big deal about everything being interconnected, it simply doesn’t work. Steve’s story arc in Endgame is incongruous to the narrative arc we’ve been presented in previous films.

Ultimately, Endgame is a movie you’re supposed to watch once and then not think about again. It’s made for that first viewing when everything is shocking and exciting because if you stop to think about it even a little bit, it falls apart under scrutiny.

Finally, I think that the downfall of a lot of these ‘Steve’s ending makes sense’ posts is that made by people who are most certainly MCU fans but not Steve Rogers fans and it shows.

[gimme-mor]

ACOTAR THINK PIECE: ELAIN ARCHERON, UNTOUCHABLE

*DISCLAIMER*

This will be a long post.

Please take the time to read this post in its entirety and truly reflect on the message I am trying to send before commenting. My goal is to use my background in Gender and Women’s Studies to deconstruct the comments I have seen on Tumblr and Twitter and bring awareness to the ACOTAR fandom.

The reason I am tagging “Elriel” in this post is to call attention to the arguments in the Elriel fandom that: weaponize Elain’s femalehood to shame real life people for their opinions about Elain’s character and her relationship with Lucien; victimize Elain’s character in fandom discussions; and coddle Elain’s character, which limits fandom discussions about her narrative development and prevents the ACOTAR fandom from holding Elain accountable for her actions and inactions in the same way that the fandom holds other characters accountable for their actions and inactions. It is for these reasons that I WILL NOT remove the “Elriel” tag from this post because all of the above points contribute to the toxic discourse surrounding Elain’s character.

I urge those who use these arguments to understand their implications, why they are problematic, regardless of intent, and reexamine their contributions to the ACOTAR fandom. I WILL NOT tolerate anyone who tries to twist my words and say I am attacking people and their personal shipping preferences. In fact, I AM CRITIQUING THE ARGUMENTS THEMSELVES NOT THE PEOPLE USING THE ARGUMENTS.

Also, I highly encourage the Elriel fandom to read this post because it addresses how the concept of choice as an argument enables arguments to exploit social justice and feminist languge in order to vilify Elucien shippers, among other problematic things.

Elain Archeron is one of the most polarizing characters in the ACOTAR fandom. Though opinions about Elain vary, arguments in the Elriel fandom cite society’s perception of traditional female characters in comparison to non-traditional female characters as the reason behind the hate, and this belief is used to provide an explanation as to why other characters in the series are favored over her. In the series, Elain is portrayed in a wholly positive light and this image carries over into the Elriel fandom, painting her character as a good and kind female who has been unfairly wronged and a victim of circumstances that were out of her control. When arguments in the Elriel fandom oppose other viewpoints in the fandom, they fall into one of three categories:

Category 1: Weaponize Elain’s femalehood to shame real life people for their opinions

Maybe people who hate Elain are just jealous of her in a weird way similar to when someone hates the pretty, nice, and charming girl in school just because she is too perfect

Disliking Elain is misogynistic

What happened to feminism? What happened to women supporting women? What happened to she can say no? All of that disappears the second you force Elain to be with Lucien

Elain antis are misogynistic

All Eluciens are Elain antis

Antis claiming they’re feminists when in reality they hate on Elain and Feyre but love Nesta

Elain antis are such sore losers. Y’all were that bunch of people who could not get over being rejected from hanging out with the cool kids so y’all are projecting your hatred towards pretty people now to get validation

I don’t get how Elain’s love for gardening equals boring for some people. I’m sorry your misogyny finds traditionally feminine activities boring

Why are you attacking a female? What did Elain do? Where are your feminist voices?

The fandom is misogynistic towards Elain

If people loved Elain they would ship Elriel

If you hate Elain it says a lot about your feelings toward women

If you hate Elain because she has no “development” then you must hate Azriel because otherwise you’re misogynistic

Eluciens are turned off by the idea of a woman that has the autonomy to reject a man for the simple reason that it is her choice

Eluciens are all about feminism and “it’s HER choice” until it comes down to females not wanting a male

Eluciens don’t respect Elain’s feelings when they ship her with someone that was part of her trauma and makes her feel uncomfortable

The way some Elucien shippers completely disregard how uncomfortable Elain is around Lucien is so hilariously not funny. Prioritizing being mates over Elain’s feelings is just regressive

It’s hard as a fan of Elain to see someone ship her with a person who makes her physically uncomfortable to be around. Wouldn’t you want both characters to be happy to be around each other

Imagine if SJM saw all the awful things her “stans” had to say about Elain

It’s true that we know comparatively little about her, but is she really boring or do you just not value stereotypically feminine traits?

So y’all are just gonna tell me you prefer Elucien over Elriel? Even though Lucien treats Elain as if she’s something that belongs to him? The only reason he wants to be with her is because she’s his mate, he doesn’t respect her, doesn’t treat her as his equal, even though that’s what mates should be? He doesn’t bother to look past what’s on the outside to see her for who she is. And Elain is obviously repulsed by the idea that she should belong to anyone or have no choice in who she can be with. Azriel is her friend and the only person who sees her quiet strength. He has so much faith in her, in her abilities; he’s the one who kept her company when no one else did, he’s the only one who bothered to see her for more than her brokenness. You’re going to tell me you still prefer Elucien over Elriel?

The more I see Gwynriels that ship Elucien out of their hate for Elain, the less I can understand Elain stans that ship Elucien. Pls Elain has made it very clear that she doesn’t want Lucien, why would you ship her with him? Do you hate her too? Smh

The real question would be, if you care and understand Elain why would you ship her with Lucien (where she canonically shrinks when he is near)?

People crying over Helion and Lucien’s mom not getting to be with each other and her being forced into a relationship she didn’t want, but also ship Elucien? Just say you hate Elain

When Elain’s book is out, Gwyn stans will look like clowns and I will laugh because they set her up by shipping her with Azriel just because they hate Elain. Watch them play the victims now because Elriels are clapping back the hate they’ve sent towards Elain

As romantic as wanting girl who is visibly uncomfortable around a guy who caused her trauma to end up with the said guy. Guess their standards for romance are in hell

Category 2: Victimize Elain’s character

Gwynriels only want Gwyn with Azriel because they despise Elain

Gwyn stans and Gwynriels are Elain antis

No one in the books dislike Elain, so why are there so many people who do?

Elain hasn’t done anything wrong or questionable to warrant the hate she gets

Not having Elain’s POV makes it easy for people to be swayed a certain way about her character if you already don’t relate to her in some way

It’s been years since this series came out and we haven’t gotten a lick of an Elain POV, but people still hate her for what? We don’t know her thoughts, dreams, or aspirations

We haven’t even had Elain’s perspective yet and people are passing these judgments off on her

Elain antis who say she’s boring are just cruel when she has obvious symptoms of PTSD like Feyre and Nesta

Gwyn is one of the most overhyped characters and that’s only because most people hate Elain and they couldn’t wait to find a random girl to ship Azriel with

Nesta was abusive to her sisters but Elain (who has only ever been kind) is painted as the villain

From the text we know that Elain is the epitome of feminine stereotypes (gentle, gardening, baking, non confrontational for the most part). Yet people still call her boring or deny that she has any interesting character traits?

You can’t love Nesta and hate Elain

People hate Elain because of internalized misogyny and lack of taste. All the girl does is tend to her garden and mind her business and they treat her worse than Tamlin

Does Gwyn deserve all this support? Of course yes! She is amazing! But where’s that support when Elain was in the same situation as she? Where’s that support for her right now? Why do they idolize Gwyn for her interactions with Azriel and hate Elain for having any interaction with him?

It’s not even a ship war anymore, they just hate Elain

People hate Elain for no reason

Some of y’all don’t like feminine traits and it shows

We know less about Eris and Helion but people don’t call them boring. Why would rejecting femininity make Elain more interesting?

Elain has had a lot forced upon her

The main reason I believe most people love Gwyn so much is to get Azriel away from Elain. It’s not a secret that Elain has been a widely hated character for years so suddenly we get a new female who has a minimal amount of interactions with Azriel and BOOM. New ship that once again doesn’t make sense (just like Azriel x Emerie after ACOFAS)

Elain hasn’t done something so terrible for her to get this hate. At this point some of you are just being misogynistic and you don’t want to accept it. Don’t call yourselves feminists and then say bs like this, it’s embarrassing. She’s pretty and everyone agreed to hate on her

Just a personal feeling, but I feel like a lot of the Elain hate stems from internalized misogyny. That to be a strong female lead, you need to pick up a sword and fight. That to be strong, you need to adapt traditionally masculine traits

Elain is feminine. She is beautiful. She loves to bake and garden. She is docile, quiet, observant, and a people-pleaser. All traditionally feminine traits. Yet for some reason, she’s like the worst in these people’s eyes?

I think also maybe a lot of people can’t relate to her femininity? That her being so beautiful and quiet doesn’t allow for the people who dislike her not to self-insert? Most of the hate stems from people not wanting Elain to be with Azriel. It’s mean, but maybe the people who hate Elain literally just can’t self-insert if they have a story and that’s why they’re vehemently against it?

Poor Elain. The Cauldron dealt her a bad deal. Upon emerging as Fae, she is immediately declared by Lucien as his mate, never mind that she was already engaged to a prick. Her love life is not good

It blows my mind how they really think that they can compare all the shit that Elain gets with some dumb jokes about Gwyn on Twitter (and yes, the “hate” towards her started mostly because Elriels are clapping back, it was bound to happen)

I would think of it as anti-feminist with Elain and Lucien because she has consistently stated that she does not want him so if she was forced to embrace the bond that would be taking away her right to have a choice but with Az she feels comfortable around so if they were mates then Elain would be happy and feel safe which again should be the priority for women to feel safe in their relationships with anything and to not be forced into any type of situation aka the mating bond in this

Category 3: Coddle Elain’s character

Elain has value the way she is, in all her domestic girly glory. Not every character has to be badass

We don’t speak of Elain’s flaws frequently because everyone else already speaks badly of her, mainly in an unfair way

There is definitely something deeper going on with Elain but by no means will she ever be evil or any less feminine. That goes against everything we already know about her

It’s ok to critique Elain because she needs growth but y’all keep forgetting the shit her and her sisters went through

The last “bad” thing Elain did in ACOTAR was not help Feyre when they were impoverished and I’m tired of people acting like she’s a terrible character when it was their father’s responsibility. It happened 4 books ago and Feyre has forgiven both Nesta and Elain

Elain’s character and the evil Elain theory are a great example of the trend where people only consider female characters interesting if they reject femininity

We don’t know enough to hate Elain

Many people want Elain to turn evil (which in my opinion seems to come from a place of internalized misogyny)

However we don’t tend to talk about her faults, at least not publicly, as that has been, and still is, done to death, and I--personally, at least--find it much more fun to theorise about potentially interesting aspects of the overall plot, than dwell on negatives

And ultimately, I would be shocked if Elain has a more karmically-charged story than Nesta, considering that Elain’s “wrongs” are so much less severe and bad than Nesta’s, and Elain has already apologized for them (or paid the price in other ways, like through what Graysen did)

I guess I also think Elain has suffered and been punished enough. I hope her story is about finding hope in terrible situations, and learning to love her new life, and choosing her own path after everything that has been done to her. I don’t think she needs to be punished anymore or face any additional trauma

Also, why is she being judged on her decisions as a human at all? Fae are monsters to humans! They enslaved them for thousands of years, and the Wall was erected to keep them out

Like I’m sorry, but think Elain would want to leave her ONLY FAMILY AND FRIENDS for the Spring Court where she has no one because--oh look, lots of flowers!--is the craziest thing I have ever heard

Her sisters are in the Night Court. Her nephew is in the Night Court. Her closest friends (Nuala and Cerridwen) are in the Night Court. Her love interest is in the Night Court. Her extended family is in the Night Court. Her home is in the Night Court

SJM isn’t going to keep two sisters together and split up the third. Especially not keep Feyre and Nesta together and separate Elain. They were either all going to end up in separate places, or together. Not 2 here and 1 there

Compared to the other female characters in the series, Elain is the only character whose femalehood is at the center of conversations; this is because arguments in the Elriel fandom fixate on it when discussing her character. While Elain, Feyre, Nesta, and Mor are all representations of white womanhood and white beauty, Elain epitomizes the most fragile version of white womanhood. It’s easy to blame society’s perception of traditional female characters in comparison to non-traditional female characters when it comes to the discourse surrounding Elain’s character because it: falls in line with the fixation on Elain’s femalehood to silence opposing viewpoints; is a simplistic explanation that fails to tackle the underlying issues with Elain as a character, the same issues that are downplayed in-universe; absolves Elain of her wrongdoings; prevents the ACOTAR fandom from holding Elain accountable for her actions and inactions within the series; and diminishes the impact Elain’s actions and inactions have on those around her. It’s not that Elain is hated in the fandom because she’s a traditional female character; it’s the fact that arguments in the Elriel fandom deflect a critical analysis of Elain’s character because she’s a traditional female character who embodies the ideal white woman in need of protection. White fans and white-aligned fans of color, especially white women, have a tendency to vehemently defend, gatekeep, and coddle white female characters in fandom; this makes it difficult for other fans to engage in critical discussions about these white female characters because they’re viewed as flawless and all around perfect characters despite evidence to the contrary. Since Elain is viewed positively by the other characters in the series, it has rendered her character untouchable to any perceived slight or criticism in fandom discussions because those negative opinions challenge what has been said about her character thus far. And as a result, her character has been placed on a pedestal and implicitly hailed as the epitome of white womanhood; and when she’s criticized, it’s seen as a direct attack against white womanhood. Arguments in the Elriel fandom: exploit feminist language and perpetuate white feminist tactics under the guise of defending Elain’s character; center Elain in conversations about female oppression in the ACOTAR world and uphold white feminist ideologies in their critique of ACOTAR’s patriarchal society; and use the fragile white woman narrative to victimize Elain in Lucien’s presence, playing into racial biases that are associated with white supremacy’s defense of white womanhood.

Feminism is a social movement that seeks to promote equality and equity to all genders, and feminists work toward eradicating gender disparities on a macro-level, in addition to challenging gender biases on a micro-level. As feminism became more mainstream, a flat and oversimplified version of feminism emerged: mainstream feminism. The mainstream feminist movement is meant to represent all women, but rarely does it center conversations around issues that concern most women. The problem with mainstream feminism is that it’s just a popularized version of white feminism. White feminism has relied extensively on an individualized understanding of women’s oppression, exclusively from the lens of privileged white women. White feminism only focuses on the oppression experienced by white, able-bodied, affluent, educated, cishet women; and it views gender as the key mode of privileged white women’s oppression, isolated from the privileges granted by their other social identities. White women can be and are oppressed under the patriarchy but only because they are women; their identity as women does not exempt them from the privileges granted by their whiteness. The term white feminist does not mean any feminist who is white, but refers to feminists who prioritize the concerns of privileged white women as though they are representative of all women. However, the term is not exclusive to white people. Because white feminism is so pervasive, people of other racial and ethnic backgrounds often buy into white feminism, believing that if they work hard enough, they may be able to reap its rewards.

Just like white feminism, mainstream feminism only recognizes the identity of being a woman, assumes that all women share common experiences of gender oppression, fails to address other social identities in relation to overlapping systems of oppression, and disregards privilege in relation to various social identities. Just like white feminism, mainstream feminism is palatable because it doesn’t seek to challenge the systems in place, instead its goal is to succeed within them. Essentially, mainstream feminism and white feminism are extensions of performative feminism. Performative feminism is a type of performative activism that’s used to describe feminist views that are surface level and solely for the benefit of one type of person. It’s a pretense which often has nothing to do with genuine activism. Arguments in the Elriel fandom normalize and promote performative feminism because the topic of feminism is only referenced when discussing Elain. This indicates that these arguments are engaging in disingenuous discourse to push a personal agenda within the ACOTAR fandom, and it becomes more apparent when they use white feminist tactics to shut down opposing viewpoints:

White feminists weaponize and exploit feminist language to silence the opinions of other women, especially when they’re called out for their problematic behaviors

White feminists use the phrase “Women supporting women” to defend other white feminists who exhibit problematic behaviors instead of holding them accountable 

White feminists weaponize phrases like “Women supporting women” and “You just hate women” to attack other women who disagree with them on any given topic

White feminists use phrases like “All women face challenges” and “Stop pitting women against each other” to sidestep conversations about privilege

White feminists divert conversations away from privilege and towards the Trauma Olympics to equate their struggles to the oppression of marginalized people 

White feminists skirt around the realities of other forms of oppression and discrimination, downplaying the experiences of marginalized people

White feminists diminish or ignore the ways in which gender oppression affects other marginalized people

White feminists paint those they harmed as aggressive, mean, or divisive when confronted with the ways they have harmed a marginalized group

White feminists deflect criticism by focusing on the anger or emotions being expressed rather than the issue that is being discussed, invalidating the concerns of marginalized people

White feminists speak over marginalized voices in an attempt to sound “woke”

White feminists get defensive and insist there’s no way they could be a part of the problem because of what they’ve done to help marginalized groups already 

White feminists say they don’t see color in an attempt to obscure racial issues that need to be addressed

White feminists center and victimize themselves in conversations about racism, which derails necessary conversations from taking place

White feminists who are white weaponize the intersectionality of their race and gender to avoid accountability

Feminism is not meant to be approached from an individualistic perspective nor is it only about addressing the experiences of privileged white women, it involves addressing the intersections of race, class, gender, sexuality, (dis)ability, and other social identities as well; and it involves addressing how these social identities relate to privilege. Moreover, feminism is not about women upholding complete loyalty to other women because of a shared gender identity, and to claim that it does implies that women should be held to different emotional standards than men. If men are able to dislike and criticize other individual men, real or fictional, without their characters being compromised, why aren’t women granted that same privilege?

It’s clear that SJM set up the ACOTAR world to mirror a patriarchal society, and that the imbalance of power between males and females stems from sexism. Arguments in the Elriel fandom analyze the ACOTAR world through a feminist lens to show how ACOTAR’s patriarchal society, to which the mating bond is innately tied, contributes to female oppression and limits their agency. When choice and free will are emphasized as part of Elain’s arc, they imply that Elain, through the mating bond, experiences female oppression under ACOTAR’s patriarchal society because of her identity as a female with that identity being the focal point of her oppression in the world. Elain is one of the most privileged characters in the ACOTAR world: she’s High Fae; she’s the sister of the High Lord and High Lady of the Night Court, which gives her access to wealth and political influence because of that connection; she’s able-bodied; she was magically blessed by the Cauldron; and she lives in Velaris, a place that grants females autonomy and power because of the beliefs of Rhysand and Feyre. Arguments in the Elriel fandom trivialize female oppression in the ACOTAR world because they disregard the fact that Elain’s privileges prevent her from experiencing female oppression in the same way that other marginalized females in the world do. The mating bond being one such example because those around Elain are not forcing the bond on her, instead they’re allowing Elain to reach a decision about the bond for herself; a privilege that other marginalized females in the world probably wouldn’t have. Just because Elain has endured hardships in her life and is a female in a patriarchal society, they do not erase the privileges she holds within the ACOTAR world. The failure to include Elain’s privileges in discussions about Elain being a female in a patriarchal society feeds into white feminist ideologies because white feminism operates from a very narrow perspective; it doesn’t take other intersecting identities into account when it examines gender oppression, leaving no room for discussions about privilege (or lack thereof) in relation to those intersecting identities. When discussing oppression in hierarchical societies, it’s imperative that privilege is also included in the conversation because privilege and oppression are not mutually exclusive; they equally affect the ways in which people navigate those societies through their social identities.

Rather than attributing Elain’s uncomfortability to her new life as a Fae female or the mating bond itself and her trauma to the Cauldron, the King of Hybern, or Ianthe, they’re placed on Lucien to cast his character in a negative light. Moreover, fandom discussions portray Lucien as a possessive character to further emphasize Elain’s discomfort despite the inaccuracy of this characterization in canon. Arguments in the Elriel fandom play into racial biases when it comes to Lucien (a male character of color) because they mischaracterize his character in order to victimize Elain (a white female character), placing her character in the role of the white damsel in distress. In Western society, the concept of womanhood has been conceptualized from a Eurocentric perspective with femininity and feminine attributes favoring white women. It’s the idea that a certain type of femininity is only inherent to white women as they are seen as the embodiment of an ideal womanhood. White womanhood has been a symbol of innocence and purity, and white women have been viewed as fragile beings in need of protection. The reason white womanhood functions within white supremacy is because it’s the same idea that has motivated white men to kill and beat black and brown men. The so-called protection of white women has been used as a justification for the horrific violence committed by white men because black and brown men were stereotyped as aggressive and seen as a threat to the virtue of white women. The white damsel in distress trope considered white women as worthy of protection because of their perceived innocence and purity; women of color were not granted that same treatment because they did not fit into the ideal image of womanhood. Over the years, this trope became a means for white women to exercise limited power in a patriarchal society with white women weaponizing their status as the damsel much to the detriment of black and brown men. It’s through the white damsel in distress trope that white supremacy sustains its dominance in Western society. The misrepresentation of characters of color in fandom, the dismissal of their importance to the overall story, and using them as tools in arguments centered around white characters are the foundation of fandom racism; they’re examples of how racism moves silently in fandom spaces. Instead of examining their behavior and taking constructive criticism from fans of color, white fans will often double down on their bigotry and center their uncomfortability in the conversation when confronted with their complicity in fandom racism. White fans expect fans of color to swallow fandom racism in its many forms in order to not ruin the experience of fandom, dismissing the fact that racism is prevalent in nearly every aspect of society. This mentality ensures that no one is held accountable for the harm they caused and alienates fans of color in fandom spaces.

To reiterate what I mentioned in my first think piece: terms like “oppression”, “the right to choose”, “feminist”, “feminism”, “anti-feminist”, “anti-feminism”, “internalized misogyny”, “misogyny”, “misogynist”, “sexist”, “sexism”, “racist”, “racism”, “classist”, “classism”, “discrimination”, and “patriarchy” are all used in specific ways to draw attention to the plight of marginalized people and challenge those who deny the existence of systems of oppression. Yet these words and their meanings can be twisted to attack, exclude, and invalidate people with differing opinions on any given topic. When social justice and feminist terms are thrown around antagonistically and carelessly to push a personal agenda, it becomes clear that these terms are being used to engage in disingenuous discourse and pursue personal validation rather than being used out of any deep-seated conviction to dismantle systemic oppression. Being an ally, activist, or feminist is not an identity, it’s a practice. It requires: ongoing self-reflection; holding ourselves accountable; listening to marginalized people; educating ourselves; dismantling implicit biases; challenging those around us who are exhibiting problematic behaviors; and action behind our words.

It’s important to be aware of the language that is used within the fandom when defending or critiquing characters and ships. It’s also important to question how an argument is framed and why it’s framed the way that it is to critically examine the intent behind that argument: is it used as a tool to push a personal agenda that reinforces problematic behaviors, or is it used as an opportunity to share, learn, enlighten, and educate?

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Tagging: @spell-cleavers @bookofmirth @m0bulidae @ilya-boltagon

[shreddedparchment]

A Wife for Thor Pt.22

Obstacle

04/08/2021

Pairing: King!Thor x Reader          Word Count: 5,413

Warnings: angst, jealousy, marital problems, pregnancy, allusions to cheating (no actual infidelity), fluff, smug Loki

A/N: It took me SO long to get this chapter down. I wrote literally like a few sentence a day for a bit and then finally got some good chunks out. This has been a tough week but this chapter makes it all worth it! I hope y’all think so too. A lot of good stuff happens in this chapter, as in stuff that I really like. If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work!

Please DO NOT repost my stories on any other sites or blogs.

REBLOGS are always welcome!

The shuffle around the palace as Loki escorts you through the front gate is overwhelming.

It’s safe to say that judging by your reception when you’d shown up in Heimdall’s tower located on the far side of the city, the Asgardians are happy to see you.

Armod is also happy to see you and you rush to get into your car before you can get swarmed by eager Asgardians.

Loki joins you in the back seat and lets Armod gush over his happiness at seeing you back home and healthy. And pregnant! More than anything, the people are happy to see the swell of your belly.

Many of the women are crying as you step out of the car at the palace gate, the men cheering enthusiastically.

Some of the children have found flower petals to throw into the air and it rains white, pink, and yellow blossoms.

It's the small waving hand of a little girl with ebony floor length braids that tugs too hard on your heartstrings and you give in to your impulse.

“Armod, stop the car, I’d like to greet the people,” you ask, swayed further by the eager faces of the young girl's siblings who flank her..

As much as being Queen had come unexpectedly and as much work as it's been, loving the Asgardians has never been a challenge and you've missed your people.

Their kindness has always been the best part of your day.

Armod gives Loki a quick look but stops the car just as the palace gates are opening.

He pulls over to the side, putting it in park before hurrying out to open the door for you.

“Are you sure?” Loki checks, reaching over to place his hand over yours on the seat.

“Of course. I owe them this. I’ve been gone for so long.”

“If you’d rather go in, we can find an excuse.”

“Loki,” you laugh once. “Is something wrong? Is there a reason I shouldn’t get out of the car?”

“Not at all,” he assures you. “I just don’t want you to force yourself. I know this pregnancy hasn’t exactly been easy on you.”

“I’m okay. And I’m sure they wanna see the proof that they have an heir coming. Really, Loki, I don't mind.”

Loki sighs, but gets out quickly to move around and take Armod’s place and offer you his arm.

Taking it, you pull yourself out, and after a long moment to steady yourself on your feet, you turn to face your people.

A large number of Valkyries suddenly pour from the open palace gateway and you wait as they line themselves in front of the gathering crowd. A simple border of control to keep you safe.

The people don’t seem threatened by the guard either and they continue to cheer until you raise your hand and call them to silence.

It only takes a few seconds for the noise to die, leaving only the ambient sounds of the city, wind, and the shuffling feet as more Asgardians and visiting humans gather.

“Hello,” you begin, voice a little shaky from nerves. “I’m...I-I’d like to start by first apologizing for disappearing. And then for being gone so long.”

The people watch and listen attentively, hanging on your every word. As your hands drop down to your belly to stroke it anxiously out of habit, their eyes are drawn to it and they seem to rattle with excitement again.

Looking down at your tummy, you contemplate the little one inside and the kicks he gave you earlier in the day.

He's really in there.

“It’s been a long journey to do what’s been expected of me. Difficult, actually. Giving you and Thor what we’ve all been hoping for is a privilege though. It's important that you all know that.

"However, I'm not as strong as all of you. I'm not as resilient. As soon as I knew that I was expecting the future prince or princess of New Asgard, I knew that I had to take precautions. I had to stop thinking like your Queen and just for a while, think like a mom. I told Thor that I wanted to take some time away from my duties as Queen if only to make sure that my pregnancy would take. In order to ensure the health of this baby.

“Im so very sorry if I caused any of you any worry or pain by disappearing. That was never my intention and it makes me...I can only say that I'm sorry. I hope that you all can understand why I left. The The thing is I’m happy to say that my efforts weren't wasted, clearly."

There's a rumble of gentle laughter that flows through the crowd and breaks the slightly somber mood your speech is causing. You give them a smile and they smile back.

"And while that does make me very happy, it has not been easy to carry this baby. I have been sick and weak but after some rest I'm now feeling stronger than ever. With the constant and careful care provided by Doctors Wilson and Alric, I’m finally able to resume my duties as Queen with the knowledge that this baby is strong and healthy and my body can take the strain of bringing him-or her into this world.

“I’m so happy to be back among my people, my home. You all are my family and it fills me with such joy to know that I have made you all proud.”

The people cheer, more and more gathering along the street so that it’s now clogged and impassable. Others have taken to peeking out of windows from the surrounding buildings or finding balconies and roofs to stand on to get a better look at you.

Their excitement changes to trepidation at the look on your face as you realize that now is the perfect time to address what happened yesterday.

They’re so attuned to your mood that they quiet down again and wait nervously for you to speak.

"On a more serious note, I know that many of you must have been shocked by the lies spewed onto the pages of the Watch. And I'd like to be as clear as I possibly can about my absence from the palace.

"I only left because of the concern I had for our future prince or princess. There was absolutely no other reason for my absence in our great city. While it is true that something did happen between Thor, Jane, and myself--well, I will only say that now I know that His Majesty the King of Asgard is wholly devoted to me and our family, just as he has been from the moment he accepted me as his wife.

"Not that I ever doubted it," you lie. No one needs to know how bad things are and it is true that now you know Thor is devoted to you.

So, it's not completely a lie.

"As a people," you continue. "We'll need to be vigilant about the people we choose to trust to come into our homes. We will be more cautious now, and as a woman…"

You swallow hard, thinking about the words itching on the tip of your tongue to tumble forward and make your heart clear. Maybe it's not right to say it? Maybe it isn't the queenly thing to do?

You don't care.

"As a wife and a soon-to-be mother, I will say that Doctor Jane Foster is not welcome in my home. She has proven to be unworthy of the trust we placed in her and while her expertise is an invaluable commodity that I am sad to lose, I would rather have the second best than risk the stability of my family."

To your surprise, there are a flutter of approving nods and smiles, wives and husband's looking scandalized by the confirmation that something went down but clearly it was Thor that had Jane kicked out. A few cheers come but they quiet down quickly.

"My love for His Majesty is unwavering. As is his for me. No marriage can be without it's struggles but Thor and I are as united as we have ever been. Both in love, devotion, to each other and you, our people. Together we will strive to protect this kingdom to the best of our abilities and with this child, I hope we can begin to lay down proper roots for us so that everyone on Earth will know that New Asgard is here to stay."

The crowd cheers. It's deafening and your hands are trembling so terribly even clenched into fists they shake.

"LONG LIVE THE QUEEN!" someone shouts and the others fall into the chant as it's picked up by what sounds like everyone in the crowd.

A cool hand presses against the center of your back and you lean towards him as he whispers in your ear.

"That was beautifully done, Y/N," Loki admires. "Now come along. You need your rest."

You cradle your bump and the crowd cheers louder as you wave while Loki leads you back into the car.

As it pulls away from the curb, the Valkyrie turn to follow behind you. Faces full of stern pride. Their gleaming armor shining bright in the late afternoon sun.

The large wooden and steel reinforced gates of the palace close with a thundering clatter and you lean back, heart suddenly clenching painfully. Your stomach turns and you feel like you might throw up.

You shut your eyes and open the window allowing the cooling air to help drive your nausea away.

"Y/N? You alright?" Loki checks, putting his hand on your arm.

"I'm fine," you assure him, unwilling to open your eyes.

"Are you sure? Only, you're looking a little green."

That doesn't actually happen does it? Do people look green when they're gonna throw up?

You assume he's exaggerating, but as the last bit of the swirl in your belly passes, you look at him with fearful eyes.

"I'm nervous," you admit.

"To see Thor?"

"Mm," you nod.

"He's missed you. He will probably try and hug you. Might even kiss you."

"I don't know if I can handle that, Loki."

"You'll have to. The guards around the palace are sworn to secrecy about anything that happens in here, but with the amount of information that magazine was able to get we're pretty sure there's a mole amongst our number."

You look away from him, frowning because the last thing you want is to hug and kiss Thor.

Well, that is, you really want to do those things. Which is why you shouldn't. Not until you can be around him with some kind of rational thought and control over your feelings.

You need to get a grip and come to terms with the reality of your situation before you can let yourself love hum.

You have to protect yourself.

It turns out that you have nothing to worry about.

Estrid who had come before you with your things is there to greet you. A few others of the palace staff come to see you and you're welcome back with fondness.

Because you know you have to play the part, you look for him.

"His Majesty had a sudden summons from the Lady Sif and the Warriors Three, my Queen. He apologizes for missing your arrival but he's had the small dining room filled with all of your favorites.

"When you are finished with dinner, he has asked that you wait for him in his study."

Estrid's tone tells you she's wary for you. She wants to make sure you're okay.

The disappointment you feel gives you away not only to yourself, but everyone there to see your face fall as you caress your belly.

"A blessing in disguise?" Loki suggests in your ear for just you, but the smile on his lips says he knows better.

"He'll be back before it gets too late, Your Majesty," Estrid assures you, trying to soothe your sadness. "He promised. There’s nothing more he wants than to see you."

"I know," you smile at her, then the others before you head for the dining room, your stomach grumbling in anticipation of the foods you know are waiting.

~~~~~~~~~~

Waiting is torture. You keep trying to read your book but your attention is pulled back to the door of Thor’s study every few seconds.

You groan, dropping the book onto the desk before throwing your head back with scrunched up eyes.

How is it possible to be desperate to see someone while also dreading it?

It feels like you'll die if you don't lay eyes on Thor but also like it'll tear you to shreds if you do. There's no winning here.

You gasp as the door opens and get to your feet in the same breath.

Thor's body is rising and falling heavily with his own labored breathing. He'd been running.

To get to you? No. You can't be swayed.

"I'm here."

His declaration is soft but heavy with meaning. More than just him announcing his arrival.

"Oh, aren't you a vision," he gushes.

"Hi," you whisper, only because you can't catch your breath.

He's wearing jeans, a plain black t-shirt stretched across his bulging chest. He's even more massive than you remember. Three months away has deprived you so fully that suddenly being in his presence leaves you hungry for him.

You want him so much.

"I've missed you, desperately," he confesses. "May I greet you properly?"

You frown, so undecided.

"Or not," Thor relents. "Forgive me, I just got caught up in the moment."

Why is this so hard?

You want to feel him.

"You can greet our baby properly," you give in.

A big part of you needs to feel him and this is the only way you can give in and feel like you're still doing your best to hold strong in your resolve to get some distance.

Thor’s eye lights up and quickly finds the swell of your tummy with recognition.

"Really?"

"I will never keep you from our baby, Thor. Even if I'm not ready for things to go back to normal between us just yet."

Thor takes a half step towards you and watches you carefully for any indication that you're not comfortable with his proximity.

You sigh, head tilted to the left slightly before you hold out your hand to him, beckoning him closer.

In three long strides Thor takes your hand and stops when he's only a foot away.

"Here," you gasp.

Your heart is in overdrive. Thor’s touch is doing things to your body. There's an initial rush of butterflies in your stomach and quickly you pull Thor’s hands to the spots where your baby is kicking in response.

Thor’s body freezes. He goes rigid. He even stops breathing.

For a moment you begin to worry that maybe you've broken him, until he suddenly drops to his knees.

He swallows hard, eyes pooling as he stares at the swell of your stomach as the baby continues to kick.

“They’re really in there,” he’s so choked up about it that his voice cracks around the words.

As he speaks, the baby kicks more.

Thor laughs but then leans in to kiss your stomach over the fabric of your dress.

“We really made her,” Thor gushes.

“Her?”

He looks up at you, confused for a second before he smiles wide, “Or him. It doesn’t matter. What matters is our baby is coming.”

Your heart swells, and you’re so happy that you could float away like a hot air balloon with the warmth flooding your limbs.

This is the moment you’d dreamt of. This is the moment that had been stolen from you by Jane and her lies. This is the moment that you and Thor had both been yearning for.

He’s so caught up in it, floating through the glow of this perfect moment that he presses his lips to your tummy again two more times before he’s rising, his hand hooked behind your neck as he meets your lips as he gets to his feet.

You’re so unprepared for it, so utterly lost in this sweet exchange between him and your baby that your lips pucker on their own.

He opens his eye and yours, already open, stare into his. He looks slightly shocked to find himself kissing you but he doesn’t stop.

Instead, his expression shifts into a pained look of desire. He pulls back, his hand dropping to grip your bicep.

“I would say that I’m sorry but I have been wanting to kiss you since the moment I left you three months ago.”

You say nothing, watching him, listening. You’re searching your soul to see if this is okay with you because it feels okay. Despite the sirens blaring in your mind about the restrictions you’d set for yourself when you’d decided to come back home, your body is telling you it needs this. Your heart is painfully aching at Thor’s touch.

You’ve missed it. You’ve missed him. 

“Is this alright? I can go.”

The idea of him going now feels like the end of the world. Rationally, you know that isn’t an appropriate response to his offering to leave you be, especially when you know you asked him for space for specific reasons.

“No,” your hands grip the sides of his t-shirt tightly, holding him in place without any actual strength since compared to him, you’re as mighty as a little mouse.

You refuse to look up at him, despite the crumbling of your resolve.

“No, don’t go.”

It’s an almost involuntary shy response to your diminishing shame at losing all control after his touch. After one kiss. You should be disappointed in yourself. And part of you is. However, that part of you grows increasingly small as Thor gently takes hold of your chin and guides your gaze up until you can meet his.

“I’m sorry, cherub. I will try and be worthy of you again.”

“I know,” you admit, knowing how sorry he’s been from the moment he realized that he’d done something that hurt you badly. “I know you are.”

“Can I kiss you, cherub?”

His voice is so deep, so alluring and coaxing that you drop your gaze again, fixing it on his collarbone before slowly you nod.

His arm winds its way around your waist and he pulls you to him before dipping down and catching your lips with his again.

He pulls away after a second because the swell of your belly gets in the way, but he laughs and looks down at it.

The pleasant sound of his happiness gives you too much joy.

As you begin to smile, Thor reaches down to press one hand to the side of your stomach while he pulls you against him again and kisses you this time with more fervor.

The longer he has his lips pressed to yours, the more enthusiastic he gets until finally you’re breathless and you pull back but instead of pulling away, you wrap your arms around him and fist the back of his t-shirt,

You bury your face against his wide chest and Thor brings his hands back up to caress the sides of your face, his lips kissing the top of your head.

“I know I may not have a right to say this, but thank you for coming home. Thank you for coming back to me. I thought I’d lost you."

His arms grow a little tighter, his heart is in an absolute stampede.

You turn your head sideways so that you can listen to his heartbeat.

"This is what I'd wanted," you whimper, starting to be overcome with the emotion of being reunited with Thor and things falling into place more easily. "This is how I'd wanted us to share this moment."

Thor sighs heavily, giving you one more squeeze before he pushes you back a little so that he can look at you.

“I’m so sorry that I robbed you of that. I was a fool,” he nods, his eye intense as he stares into yours with wordless declarations piercing into you.

The memory of your speech with the people when you arrived pops into your head and now with Thor’s arms around you it all feels a little like an overreaction. The past three months feels like a distant nightmare.

Or does this feel like a dream?

“Thor,” you begin but Thor’s lips are on you again, drowning out your words.

“Oh, to hear you say my name,” he declares and kisses you again.

Your mouth opens for him and you absolutely melt against his chest as he nearly dips you in passion.

He pulls back again, “Is this real?”

He kisses you.

“You feel so good in my arms.”

He kisses you.

“Your skin is so…” but then he hums and kisses you.

He dips down and with his arms tight around your waist but also careful with the swell of your stomach, he lifts you so that you’re level with his eye.

“I love you, so much, my cherub. Thank you, thank you for coming home. Thank you.”

“I’m sorry I stayed away,” you sigh. “I need to be strong without you, Thor. I was hurt but I never stopped loving you.”

His face goes through shame, understanding, and then elation.

In a burst of subdued anger and aggression for what he put you through, you reach up and grab his shoulder. You dig your fingers in against the taut muscle then reach up to pull one of his ears.

You’re clearly not hurting him but he allows you to move his head, understanding the need to express your anger even if you’re not doing any damage.

“Never do that to me again,” you growl. “Never say that you’ll leave me. Why would you say that? Even in passing? You were so damn sure.”

“No, Y/N, I wasn’t. The moment I saw you, I knew that I could never leave you. I’m sorry. I could never even think those thoughts again.”

“You better not, or I won’t come back next time. I’ll disappear and you’ll never see me again.”

Thor takes your threat for what it is. A promise. Truth.

He shakes his head as he leans forward to press his forehead to yours, shutting his eye.

“I swear,” he begins. “On my life.”

He keeps you there, hovering over the ground with your heads together for a few minutes before he slowly lowers you to the ground. You realize it’s because he wants to stroke your belly and you take a slight step back so that he can.

He smiles, happy. It reminds you of the look your people had when you’d arrived only a hundred times as possessive and joyful.

Again, your speech intrudes on your reunion and this time, you won’t let him distract you.

“Thor,” you coax, placing your hands over his where they rest on the sides of your stomach.

“Yes, my cherub?”

He’s excessive in the affection he puts in his voice but you know that he must be floating on cloud nine after what you both went through when you made him leave you at your house.

“I-I did something and I’m not sure if it was right of me to do it,” you watch his brow wrinkle and for a split second you almost lose yourself in the beauty of his face.

Has he always been this handsome?

“When I got back I kinda made a speech? Everyone was so happy to see me and to see me carrying our heir and I wanted to apologize to them for leaving and for making them worry. I wanted to share in their excitement for the baby and with that stupid tabloid having come out yesterday-”

“Right, the article,” there’s guilt in his voice despite there being no truth to the rumors it printed.

“I wanted to put their minds at ease and I...I did confirm that something happened with Jane but not what they were thinking.”

Thor’s expression hardens just a tad and he pulls backs towards a large armchair. He grabs your hand though and pulls you along with him until he can sit and then carefully attempts to offer you his lap, unsure if you’ll sit.

You do, because you’re tired and because you’re not eager to be away from him again. Now that you’re touching him, you’re not in a hurry to change that again.

“What did you say exactly?”

Swallowing hard, you lick your lips nervously, “Um...I told them the truth. Not exactly the truth, but enough of it that they’ll understand that Jane isn’t welcome here. I said that the only reason I left is for my health and the health of the baby, which is true. I didn’t want them to worry about us because even if we didn’t reconcile, I want us to be united for them at least.

“But I don’t trust Jane, Thor. Not after what she did. Not after how she treated me when you weren’t looking, and the people need to know that I will protect them from anyone, no matter who they are to you or me.”

Thor’s face grows pained as you speak, his arm wrapping around your waist as his other hand caresses the side of your stomach. You’re starting to realize that it’s going to be hard to get his hands off it, but that doesn’t seem like a terrible problem.

“I wish you had told me that she’d been rude to you,” Thor sighs, taking his hand off of his stomach to stroke your cheek. “If I had known-”

“She wasn’t rude to me Thor, she dismissed me. I wasn’t even worth acknowledging to her and now I know it’s because she was jealous and wanted you back because what? She saw what we had together and suddenly it was good enough for her?

“I was in her way. That’s all I was. Even if in the end she couldn’t go through with it whether it was because she felt guilty for doing this to us or for lying or for having second thoughts and knowing that she doesn’t want to be Queen or a mom, she’s a bad person to me. And I have every right to protect myself, my baby, and our marriage from her. She’s not welcome here Thor. I never want to see her again. Ever.”

He’s cradling you now, holding you close because the intensity with which you're telling him that Jane is not welcome in your home is transferring to him.

“And if you’d known, you wouldn’t have done anything, Thor. You’d probably have talked to her and asked her what was going on and she would have lied to you and you would have believed her.”

He doesn’t deny it. He does look like it hurts him to know that you know though. That’s enough for you.

“I think it took her lying and doing this to us to make you see what she’s capable of.”

Thor shuts his eye, resting his head against your chest as he wraps his arms around you again.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know you are, Thor. But you weren’t the one who lied. I mean, you didn’t tell me what was happening, but you weren’t the reason that this happened. If Jane hadn’t lied-”

“But she did,” Thor says, his deep voice anguished. “And I failed to honor my vows. You are my Queen and I should have come to you the moment she told me she was pregnant.”

You both fall into silence as you reach over to stroke his bicep. His skin is so soft. Touching it gives you comfort in a way you weren’t aware you needed. The more you touch it the more you need to feel it.

A finger stroking his skin turns into two, then four, then your entire hand is running up under the sleeve of his t-shirt.

With the way his hand curls around your thigh, you know that both your bodies are responding to your touch. Both of you are heated but instead of giving into that because you aren’t ready for that yet, you lay your head on his shoulder and curl in closer to his chest.

Thor sighs heavily, wrapping you up in his arms as he cradles you close.

“Now we know better,” you whisper.

“Now I know what losing you will do to me,” Thor agrees. “I’ve missed you so much, cherub.”

You don’t respond. You’re too choked up to say anything without your voice cracking so both of you stay like that for a while.

The cocoon of Thor’s arms is toasty and from the exhaustion you’re feeling plus all of the emotions that have drained you, your eyes are heavy and difficult to keep open.

“What about you?”

Thor’s chest rumbles with a chuckle.

“We can talk more tomorrow, cherub. Sleep.”

“I’m not sleepy,” you lie.

“Very well, then. What about me?”

“You’re sleepy?” you look up at him, full of concern.

He chuckles again, “No, cherub. What were you asking?”

“Oh! I just wanted to know if you’re okay. What Jane did to you can’t have been easy. Despite what she did to us as a couple, she said she was pregnant. You’ve been wanting a baby for so long and she dangled that in front of you like the rat that she is. And then she wasn’t even pregnant?”

Thor’s arms constrict around you as he pulls you up towards him to kiss you.

It’s slow and full of emotion.

“Even after all of that, you’re still worried about me?”

“It took time,” you admit. “Once I wasn’t so angry and I thought about what Jane really did. I hate the idea that your heart broke over her lies. I can’t believe she ever loved you if she was willing to make you feel that way.”

Thor just stares at you, searching your eyes before he rubs his nose gently against your own. When he speaks, his voice is so low, so deep, an intimate whisper. It burrows into your chest and settles right there underneath your ribs and makes you breathless with missing him and desire.

“That’s why you’re my Queen, Y/N. And she is not.”

You’re not sure if it’s an Asgardian ability or if maybe it’s something specific to Thor, but he has a way of making you swoon.

“I missed you so much,” he confesses again, that whisper sinful. “Did you not miss me?”

You nod because you can’t speak. There’s a lump in your throat made of both sadness and want.

“Was your bed as frigid as mine was in your absence? Did you miss my breath on your neck as I did yours? Or the steady beat of your heart when you pressed your breast to my back as you held me while I slept?”

Fuck, he’s making this so impossible.

“I hate you so much,” you counter, but his lips stretch into a small knowing smile as you take a tight hold of the neck of his shirt and pull him up to meet your lips.

He exhales heavily into you, tasting you, relishing in every pulsating touch as both your hearts ache and yearn almost in disbelief as if both of you can’t believe that these wants, these needs are finally being met.

As he pulls back to tilt his head the other way, he takes hold of the sides of your face again, his lips grazing yours, “I love you.”

Before you can reply or yank him back into that torturous yet blissful kiss, a voice at the doorway clears their throat.

“Well, that was fast, what happened to keeping him at a distance?”

Loki’s voice pulls your gaze and you can feel your cheeks and neck burn at how easily it seems you’ve crumbled when finally face to face with Thor.

You frown at your brother-in-law, while Thor ignores his brother and leans up to press very non-chaste kisses to your neck, “I told you coming back was a bad idea.”

But Loki’s smile is blinding and with one chuckle he backs out of the room, shutting the door quietly as Thor turns you back to him so that he can get back to kissing you.

[mcyt-imagines-library]

Okay, but have you considered: Reader who's part of the Syndicate and has a huge crush on Techno decides to try to break him out the same exact time as Michael McChill, the canon Dream sympathizer/simp tries to break out Dream, and they two of them get put in a cell together and bond over their crushes

✋💀 i was working on a Sapnap NSFW Hcs request, but i believe this needed my attention the most, thank you for it btw

Meeting c!Michael McChill During A Prison Break

After many hours, using a netherite pickaxe and several buckets of milk, you had nearly breached the prison to the right of where Technoblade was being held.

By no means, were you breaking him out solely due to your romantic interest in him, but it certainly did help fuel your motive. No, it was because he was the driving force of the Syndicate. The amazing organization that you wholly believed was protecting people. That's why you were doing it.

Breaking the last two blocks, you slipped into the room, gracefully landing on the, somehow, cold obsidian floor.

From across the small room, Dream and Technoblade up looked at you. For the most part, the pink haired man looked content, Dream however, looked far more frazzled than you had ever seen him before.

Techno greeted you by saying your name, following it with a small nod, staying at his place on the ground, leaning and resting his head against the wall.

You always thought that your name from his mouth sounded very lovely, but now was not the time to mull over your crush.

“Thank the gods,” Dream yelled, bolting up onto his feet. "Finally I can leave this damn place!"

You stood in front of the whole you made, holding your dagger in front of you defensively.

"No, not you. I'm here for Technoblade."

Dream scoffed at you turning back to gesture at the aforementioned man.

"What, why?" His words were sharp and covered in venom. "Techno doesn't need saving. They don't torture him, they torture me. In fact, I'm willing to bet that's why he's here, to make my life inside of this stupid box hell."

Technoblade chuckled from his place on the floor. "I would argue you were already in hell, with the lava and whatnot." He gestured to the thick curtain of boiling lava in front of the cell.

The dark blond haired man made a frustrated noise and paced in the center of the room. He ran his hands through his messy, overgrown hair before stopping in front of you once more.

"Look, just- you get me out of here and I'll get you whatever you need. Just say the word and I'll-"

He was cut off by a loud yell and the flash of a figure falling from the ceiling, letting more sunlight into the cell. The sudden noise and light made you and Dream jump, Technoblade staying relatively the same.

On the ground, you noticed a man covered in dark clothing, with black hair that was pulled back in a tiny, messy ponytail, he had a mask on that was concealing the bottom half of his face.

The three of you watched as he was laying on the floor, hands tightly pressed to the back of his head. He rolled onto his side while groaning in pain.

Dream walked a few steps closer to him and stopped, leaning over his form. “Micheal?”

The man, Micheal, presumably, stopped and rolled onto his back again. He looked up at Dream and gave him a bright smile. 

“Dream! Dude, I’m here to rescue you.”

He sighed in relief and slumped against a wall and looked back and fourth from Michael to you. “Was this planned?”

“I’ll be honest, I don’t actually know what’s going on anymore.” Michael responded, standing up. He looked like he was about to say something again before Dream cut him off.

“It doesn’t matter anymore, I’m about to be free.”

“Is that so?”

You and Dream jumped again, this time Michael was here to join you. The three of you and Technoblade turned your attention to the curtain of lava that was only about halfway lowered. Sam was standing on the platform opposite to you, trident in hand.

Dream laughed at him, his tone condescending “Yeah, because you’re all the way over there. You can’t even touch me.”

“I can’t?” Sam threw his trident, it stabbing into the thick obsidian wall next to Dream’s head. With some initial resistance, he was able recall it, it leaving three small, shallow holes in the wall.

“Okay, and?” He sped across the room, stopping at the hole you created.

“If you step out, things will get a whole lot worse for you, Dream.”

He laughed at him. “Yeah, okay.”

With a sigh of relief, Dream stepped his foot on the entrance, pulling himself up. He sheltered his eyes from the sun with his arm as he took a step outside. And then you heard him curse, quite loudly, in fact.

Almost immediately he was backed back into the cell, four guards filtered into the cell. “No. No, no, no, no, I was so close! What the hell, Sam?” He turned, looking back at him, who was on the moving platform, about half way through the lava cavern.

That had to be a form of psychological of torture, right?

"Do something, Michael, you want to be my hero, right?"

"Of course." He replied, putting his hand on the hilt of his sword.

Before he could do much more, Sam made it to the room. He shook his head as he pinned Micheal against a wall, slamming his hand against it the hardest. A loud crack sounded and his hand went limp, the blade falling onto the ground. Before anyone could grab it, another guard picked it up. Michael struggled as Sam turned him around pushing his chest to the wall and forcing his hands behind his back.

Dreamed looked at you, his hands ringing his hair, “Why aren’t you doing something?”

You shuffled your weight onto your other foot. “Uh-”

“Yeah, I’ll be honest, Asclepius here is mainly the healer, strategist, apposed to a fighter, executor, if you know what I mean.” Technoblade stated, using your Syndicate cover name. He patted your shoulder before settling his hand on you.

“It’s funny you say executor, actually.” One of the guards chimed in, rolling the handle of his own sword in his hands.

Technoblade sounded as clam as ever, “Well I think we’re going a bit overboard now, aren’t we?”

“No.” Sam started, now standing in the cell. “Michael and your teammate tried to break you and Dream out of prison. A crime with what is punishable by execution.”

You put your hands up slightly. “Well I was only here for Techno, who, technically, shouldn’t be in here in the first place.”

He nodded beside you, “That is a good defense, actually. I’m inclined to agree with them."

Sam ignore the two of you. “Michael, I need to talk to you privately. I’m really not sure that you understand the gravity of this situation or the why Dream was locked in prison in the first place.”

“No, Sam, he knows exactly what he’s doing, you should just kill him already!” Dream yelled, through clenched teeth. He looked absolutely pissed, like he wanted to throttle his would be savior. 

You and Technoblade glanced at each other, sharing a raised eyebrow look. At least the dude you had a crush on didn’t want you to crash and burn with him.

"Not right now, we need to question him first."

In response, Dream made another frustrated noise and threw his back to the wall, slumping to the floor.

Sam gestured for another guard to grab you and they did, positioning your arms in the same way.

You were both carried out and placed on the moving platform. When you looked back, you noticed that Dream looked utterly defeated and Technoblade was biting at his bottom lip, something he'd do in very rare situations where he was stressed.

...

You and Michael were put in a small jail cell before being stripped of all of your equipment, the room being tense between the two of you.

"I would've gotten Dream out if you didn't scramble in first and ruin things."

You laughed at his words as you crossed your arms. "Yeah, okay, and that's why you fell on your ass, right."

“My landing was a bit rocky, so what?”

You groaned in frustration. "Why do you even want to get Dream out?"

"I just think he's great."

"He literally told Sam to kill you."

"Yeah, it's how he shows he cares-"

You cut him off, “Oh, yeah, how he cares? He must have really cared about Tommy then, and about the citizens of L'Manburg. He really must be all for that 'tough love' sentiment, right?"

The room was quiet again.

“Well why’d you want to save the other guy?”

“Technoblade?”

He nodded.

You shrugged, “He’s a friend and... coworker, I guess.”

Michael raised an eyebrow at you. “That’s it? Are you serious?” 

You sighed and rubbed the back of your neck. You might be killed in the next few hours, so you might as well tell someone, right?

"Yeah, uh, about that. I like him, I guess."

Michael laughed. "Seriously? You tried to help a convict escape because you have a crush on him?"

"Oh my gods, that's literally the reason you're trying to break out Dream, shut up."

"Yeah, that's why I'm laughing."

You accidentally cracked a small smile at him.

Calling it a friendship would definitely be a stretch, but you were both on calm water with one another now.

Hopefully now you two could pull what little resources you both had together, rescue your respective love interests, and figure a way out.

[star-anise]

Thank you for your reply. My ask was kind of all over the place. (I've done some dbt before with a previous therapist and it helped! But that therapist was not a good fit I'm at a new one now tho).

Random thing, you mentioned bpd I heard in my abnormal psychology class that a lot of therapists won't treat someone diagnosed with bpd??? It was the teacher who is a grad student studying to be a therapist who said it. And like. I don't understand. They sound like a very in need population who was often abused and there's a whole huge book of treatment resources written by someone with bpd. I've heard they're "hard to treat" and talked about like they're hopeless. but like why be a mental health professional if you don't like mentally ill/different people?

This is also the same professor who insisted trauma is only the few things listed under dsm ptsd definition as traumatic events.. like she said parents getting divorced isn't a traumatic event because you aren't physically in danger... that class really scared me about the mental health field because of all the awful people in it aspiring to be therapists including the teacher.

Sorry for all the asks I love the work you do on this blog

Ahahaha, what IS it about undergrad abnormal psych professors? Mine said he wouldn't touch clinical practice with a ten-foot pole, and told a story about how once a student told him she had schizophrenia, and he knew that she was lying because obviously nobody with schizophrenia could actually manage to attend university.

(It's seriously untrue. I've had both friends and clients with psychotic disorders who succeeded in university. He was being an ableist bastard. Like, I know psych students can tend to over-identify with a disorder they're studying without actually having it, but that doesn't mean no psych student is ever entirely correct about their deal.)

Okay so, BPD. The thing about BPD is that it requires a special skillset that does not come standard in most clinical training. If a therapist who doesn't have that skillset tries to treat someone with BPD, the therapy will not be very effective and the process will be very frustrating for both them and their client. To be very frank, it's just as true that ordinary therapists are bad at treating BPD and don't like feeling stupid, as it is that people with BPD are hard to treat.

(And training to deal with people with BPD clinically is often not included in grad school education. DBT training is expensive and they won't accept you unless you have an adequate clinical placement.)

Also, part of dealing with BPD in particular is... people with BPD often have trouble seeing authority figures with anything more nuanced than "adoration and compliance" or "fear and loathing". As a therapist, you're signing up as an authority figure. Part of the work means letting your client express all their feelings about you, and helping them work to something more nuanced and sustainable, like, "I am furious and enraged that I'm in pain and I wish my therapist could take that pain away, but I realize that's not within her power. I have to admit that she's not being an evil villain here, so I can feel my resentment but let it go."

Which can be stressful to deal with, as a therapist. You have to live with a lot of hurt and anger and rage headed your way, and keep your perspective. Be empathetic without getting carried away in those emotions. You have to be able to face that pain and say, "I can't take that away. I can only help you learn to bear it."

Basically everyone I know in grad school had a nervous breakdown somewhere along the line because we go to therapist school because we're smart and capable and feel good about helping people, so when we encounter a person we can't help, or are put in situations where we have to stop helping, we tend to have existential crises and end up sobbing in the student lounge about What Am I Even Good For Now. I was lucky because I had a version of that breakdown before I entered grad school, and my therapist warned me to get a new shrink when I moved for my Master's, "Because if you don't need one at the beginning, you'll definitely need one by the end." So I was more equipped to help classmates for whom this was a wholly new experience.

In my opinion, the healthy way to approach the problem of A Person You're Not Good At Helping is to practice humility, set reasonable boundaries, recognize the limits of your competence, and see where you can learn and grow. But many therapists and helping professionals use what I consider to be an unhealthy approach, labelling such clients as "defensive" and "resistant" and "hard to treat" and blaming them for the difficulty.

Which like, I get that "practicing humility" is like "doing exercise", sometimes you're tired and cranky and don't want to go for a run. Sometimes you just want to blame the other person for not accepting your magnanimous help.

Anyway, within the field of mental health psychotherapy, complex trauma is a unique sub-speciality that many therapists don't want to touch at all. I had many classmates say, "Woof, you're into complex trauma? You must be so tough, I could never." 🙄

(Technically I have the ethical obligation to represent my profession in the best possible light to encourage public confidence in the field of psychotherapy. But I think it's not undermining the profession to admit what everyone already knows, which is that some therapists are oblivious assholes who do bad work. I've seen it, I've met them, I want them to piss off forever. Jordan Peterson is a blight to our names and Phil McGraw can go choke.)

So people who are on your wavelength about BPD and trauma and What Therapists Are For are out there. They're just a little rarer than the usual run of therapists. For what it's worth, I've found they cluster more in areas like complex trauma, DBT, Narrative Therapy, and the Hearing Voices Movement. Next year (knock on wood) I'l be going to a conference on the treatment of complex trauma with a friend, and this sounds weird given that it's a weekend all about child maltreatment, but I expect it to be a blast, because I'll get to be among My People, talking about the work that fills our souls.

I really wish that as an undergrad, I'd spent more time hanging out with Social Work students, and going to conferences and trainings. Those are where I met some of the coolest people I really clicked with. And in grad school, I had the extreme pleasure of meeting other people who were a lot like me. Those friendships were especially rewarding because as skilled helpers, we ended up playing a game of Needs Chicken, where each tries hide their own needs and caretake for the other, which finally ended up in a standoff where we had to agree to put down our caretaking skills and just be honest about what we wanted, even if that felt new and scary and raw.

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[linkspooky]

White Wolf, Black Wolf:  Yuji and Geto

Dualism, is a common theme in Jujutsu Kaisen. There’s a difference between binary opposites and a completementary pair. Binary opposites supposes that two ideas are complete opposites of eachother, they are enemies and therefore cannot coexist. Death is the opposite of life. However, ideas like the concept of yin and yang suggest that these pairs are not opposites, or even enemies, they just exist alongside one another. The feminine yin contains a single dot of the masculine yang energy inside of it and vice versa. 

This pattern repeats itself with both Geto and Yuji. Two characters who seem like they are complete opposites, enemies, hero and villain and yet have far more in common with one another than one might thing. Each of them represented by a wolf, Yuji the white wolf, and Geto the black. 

Dualism - describing how seemingly opposite or contrary forces may actually be complementary, interconnected, and interdependent in the natural world, and how they may give rise to each other as they interrelate to one another.

1. You and the Worst Person You Know Have More in Common than You Thought

Both Yuji and Geto are sharing their body with another existence. Not only that but a sorcerer from the previous era. Sukuna started out as a sorcerer, and one from the golden age of sorcerers. We don’t know who is in Geto yet, but they’ve made it clear several times that they’re not a sorcerer from this era, mockingly referring to the sorcerers of this era as beneath them. The difference is, Yuji is the dominant personality and Geto is the subordinate one. They even fight for control of their body in the same way, by grabbing their neck. 

Both Yuji and Geto have died, and then been improbably brought back to life one time already and had their body healed by the same person who seeks to steal their body. They also both died in front of their other half, their friend, Yuji dies heroically in front of Megumi sacrificing himself so Megumi doesn’t have to call Mahoraga, and Geto dies as a villain after his plan has failed executed by Gojo. Even the days they die are opposites, Geto dies in a clear sky and Yuji dies in the rain. 

They both eat curses. Geto eats them physically in order to store them and use them later. Yuji consumes Sukuna’s fingers in order to grow stronger. Geto’s Jujutsu is themed around his stomach, Sukuna’s is cooking themed. 

Yuji and Geto are both have savior / martyr imagery attached to them. They’re both people who have died, and come back from the dead at least once, and the jesus imagery with Geto is clear and explicitly referenced in hidden inventory. 

Yuji wants to be strong like Gojo, but it’s clear he follows Geto’s philosophy of wanting to save as many people as possible. What motivates him isn’t a clear and strong sense of individualism, but rather the idea that the strong are duty bound to help the weak. Even when Geto’s completely out of his mind he’s still guided by that principle, if he has the strength to do it, then he’s duty bound to try to change the world in the way he sees fit. The thing with Geto is his ideals are warped, but they’re still ideals, he has principles guiding him. These ideals also shockingly sound similiar to what Yuji says, and the burdens he wants to carry. 

It’s something that doesn’t change about Geto from the start to the end of Hidden Invenotry, the strong are obligated to help the weak, it’s just Geto flipped. he sees the sorcerers as the weak and oppressed people, and the masses as the strong ones. 

Geto and Yuji are both people heavily preoccupied with doing the right thing, whereas Gojo and Megumi kind of don’t care (Gojo) / have already accepted the fact (Megumi) that they’re not really saving people with their actions. Geto and Yuji are reckless saviors, they kind of just want to save everybody they see suffering in front of them immediately without thinking through the consequences of their actions. It’s never been seriously analyzed why Yuji feels so deadset on saving others, but from early on he seems to like the idea that it’s a burden that only he can take on himself. It’s something he must duty. The same way that Geto binds himself by the idea of duty. 

Geto and Yuji are just people who will take the whole world on their shoulders, and this isn’t just a parallel I’m making it’s one directly made by the narrative. When worrying about Yuji’s future, Yaga thinks directly of Geto someone who became overwhelmed by everything on is shoulders.

Geto wasn’t able to carry on as he once did, because he couldn’t carry the regret with him. That’s the parallel that the story is making with Yuji, that’s the danger Yuji is in. 

2. Worst Person You Know Makes a Good Point

Chapter 132 there’s a definite change in Yuji’s demeanor. While we haven’t seen the full results of his change yet, not only has he been phsically scarred on his face, but it’s clear the deaths of Nanami, the people killed by Sukuna, all have served to harden him. Nanami wanted Yuji to remain a child a little bit longer, but Yuji has now become a jujutsu sorcerer. However, the words he declares to Mahito have two clear connections to Geto. One, it’s what Geto said to Gojo to stop him from slaughtering the star plasma vessel cult in the moment. 

Gojo has feelings of course, but he’s not moved by them the same way that Geto and Yuji are. Gojo was in need of a tether in that moment and Geto’s words became his tether. Remember Gojo became so powerful as the strongest one he felt like he was capable of anything without feeling it, even slaughtering people on mass, but in that moment Geto became the link that held him back and reminded him he was human. 

What’s ironic is that Gojo was moved by Geto’s words and held himself back, whereas Geto wasn’t. It was Gojo who stuck to those words a year after the fact. He was the strongest, but he doesn’t ever act unless he carefully considers it. He doesn’t just throw power around or slaughter people the way that Geto does. 

What Yuji is vowing to do right now, following his duty as a jujutsu sorcerer without even thinking about it, is exactly what drove Geto apeshit bananas (you see because he loves monkeys so much. It’s a, ‘yknow, it’s one of them jokes). 

Yuji thinks he can just keep going on without thinking and being nothing more than a cog, but it’s exactly that kind of mechanical subservience that completely wore out Geto. Simply going through the motions without questioning it is given to us as the exact reason for Geto’s downfall, it’s one of the most chilling sequences in the manga. 

People aren’t machines, and they aren’t gears, they break down when they try to conform that way. So while it’s understandable Yuji would want to push away all his thoughts in the moment, it’s also not healthy.

The reason Geto became the way he is, is because he realized the laws he was obeying weren’t as fair as he thought they were. He thought it was his duty, and obligation to help the masses, until he looked at his actions with closer scrutiny and realized that wasn’t really what motivated him. Geto thought what he was doing was good, that he would save people, but then Riko’s death was a reality check to him that no one was getting saved by the current system. Yuji seems to have done the opposite of Geto so far. Perhaps I won’t save people. Perhaps I’m just a cog in the machine and my actions truly don’t matter as long as I can keep fighting with my comrades as a jujutsu sorcerer. However, that’s probably not going to work for him.

Yuji’s current comfort in his moment of crisis is that he’s fighting together with all of his comrades, that he carries the wishes of people like Nanami and that’s why he has to keep going, but Yuji also might not have comrades in the jujutsu world after this. We already see people like Kusakabe beginning to turn against him because of Sukuna’s rampage in Shibuya. 

So my intention in all of this is to say it’s not black and white. (Because, get it?? black wolf, white wolf??? Okay, I’m sorry I’ll shut up). Geto wasn’t an entirely bad person, there was good in him too. There was still good in him. This is what Getwo says when he’s beating on Yuji, that if Geto had used his forces more like disposable pawns instead of family telling them to fall back and making sure they all lived he would have won. 

The worst person you know, was still a human being who loved his family with all of is heart. Ideas like this challenge Yuji’s simplified reasons for fighting, and his naive view of the world. 

At the end of the day Yuji and Geto have lots of similarities. They’re opposite colors, Geto black, Yuji white, but they are both still wolves. They’re both moved by deep emotions they feel at the pit of their stomachs. They’re both people who sympathize with others and want to save them, and at the same time get angry and want to kill their enemies. None of this is bad about Yuji in fact it’s what makes him unique among shonen protagonist, he’s not a wholly good person, but just as flawed as anyone else in the story. Nobara’s crazy, Megumi’s crazy, Gojo’s crazy, and then there’s Yuji who should have been the normal one who grew up with a normal life and who is just as crazy as all the rest. 

If anything the parallels between Yuji and Geto show that Yuji is someone who has the chance to grow stronger than Geto by learning from Geto’s fault. Geto tried to carry too much, until the burden of saving the world broke him and he decided he could only save a few people the rest were just monkeys. It’s up to Yuji now to figure out what saving people means, and how he can help others without getting destroyed by the sense of responsibility or just killing himself and dying before he’s helped a single person. However, for Yuji to learn to be better he actually has to think about these things.

That’s also the second parallel to the “I don’t need to think about it’ Scene. (Besides, Sukuna who also declares that he’ll kill for no reason.) In the original Geto fight in the prequel manga Yuta declares this. He doesn’t know whether Geto is right or not, he doesn’t know anything about the world of Jujutsu he just wants to protect his friends. 

Geto calls him egotistical. In the sense that just like a child, he’s only really thinking about himself and his own emotions. Of course Yuta thinks that way because he is a child, a traumatized teenager at that. However, one important detail about this fight is defeating Geto did not cause him to go away. Killing him didn’t actually fix the problem. Geto just came back a year later with somebody else in his body. 

I think this is all leading up to a point for Yuji where he gives some serious self examination as a protagonist. It’s not enough for Yuji to just defeat his enemies. We even see that when after is triumphant moment with Mahito, Geto just wipes the floor with him.

Jujutsu Kaisen presents a very complex world, that’s not  just black and white, not just winning and losing. The next big step in Yuji’s character development is probably going to be realizing this. That he needs to seriously think about his reason. That he needs to think about what he wants to do in the future. It’s not enough for him to sacrifice his life to save someone else, he’s not a hero, or some martryr to a cause. I think the most important thing Yuji has to learn at the end of all of this is to actually live, and find out why he’s alive instead of resigning himself to the fact that he’ll get executed one day. It’s only then Yuji will be able to reach his full potential as both a jujutsu sorcerer and a person. 

He’s just a kid you know? The theme of the manga is kids should get to be kids. Yuji should get to grow up just like everybody else, instead of dying before he’s even old because he ate Sukuna’s finger to help someone else. 

[jjkpls]

the wishlist (m) - 4

“What does it mean if a guy talks about your nipples?”

> genre : smut, fluff

> pairing : jeon jungkook x reader (f)

> total words : 4.7k

> content/warnings : back at it again w/ the bff2l; one sided love, lot of pining; sextoys talk; explicit language; ambiguous infidelity ; awkwardness

previous - next

The issue is that Jungkook -and you're not a bitch for thinking that- is a little bit of an idiot.

He can be very smart. He can be wise and present unsuspecting resources and knowledge. He can teach you things you don't know anything about, figure out others you struggle to -but not during stressful times like for say an escape game because during those, he turns absolutely, utterly useless. 

But he is an idiot too. An idiot that sometimes shapes situations and conclusions and ideas in a very peculiar way that is very singular to him.

That’s precisely what happens then. He plays his role right, to its full extent, with great dedication and commitment. Except he missed a memo, misread the script and ends up playing a role that's not the one you planned for him. He believes that he’s your new adult toy provider (as if there is such a thing).

When you think he’s coming over to share a meal or play some game or binge-watch a series you promised to wait for him to experience together, he has a box hidden in his pocket or carried under his arm. 

He has the decency to not comment on it the first time around. He just set it down on the coffee table, between the bowl of chips and the one filled with guacamole. You see the logo on top of it. You recognize the design, reffined, minimalist with the pretty pastel matte colour. 

He probably identifies the shame and the annoyance on your face, painting your cheeks and reshaping your eyebrows, and doesn’t say anything. Simply smiles to himself and starts talking about the series’ new episode that’s about to start. 

It takes a lot of efforts, coming from you, to ignore the conspicuous object sitting just in front and in between you. But eventually, probably because more than a decade of friendship with this guy have grown impressive mind muscles on you, you manage to make abstraction of it. 

It just stops existing for a while until he leaves and you’re curious to see what’s inside. And again you have the same old intentions as before. The same ones.

You won’t use it. 

It’s curiosity. And it's fine for you to be curious because he’s the one buying it and gifting it to you. Why should you be blamed?

Freshly hopped in bed, just done reading the notice hanging over your face, you’re yawning and sending your eyebrows high in interest. Again you won’t use it but it sounds very interesting. That’s when you get a text from him.

Guk

So about the toy!

As if you were waiting for his explanation. As if the conversation got cut short and you were expecting him to pick it back up whenever possible.

You won’t entertain him.

You

I said not to buy me this.

Guk

You never said that! You said something about me being crazy but never about buying one again

Because you're mostly made of petty bitch material, you scroll higher quickly, wishing to find something, any text that would corroborate what you’re saying.

You don’t find anything though. Because you never actually told him to not buy you other toys by text, and now that you come to think of it, you probably never did out loud either because you didn’t fucking know that he would even consider doing so.

It’s not even Christmas anymore. It’s not your birthday. There’s even less of a valid reason for him to get you this therefore, of course, you did not explicitly warn him not to, you didn’t think it would be necessary.

You

It’s not even my fucking bday why???

Guk

I told you the lady at the shop

But who the hell is that lady?

Guk

She talked about a lot of products and they all seemed cool and because you liked the other one I thought I’d get you this one too

You

Jungkook

This simple response says a lot, you hope he can read between the pixels of his screen the desperation, the irritation, the frustration, the silent insults. 

Guk

Listen it’s super cool it's supposed to mimic the touch of a finger

Jungkook then proceeds to explain to you how it works. The original idea being a system with a tiny ball rolling under a silicon skin, to place on your clitoris to have the illusion of a finger's touch. And it’s interesting and innovative surely and sounds intriguing as in, you wonder if it’s accurate, but you’re tired and it seems like you’re wading in some sort of swamp you can’t escape from. There’s a fire burning your skin from your cheeks to your chest. You’re both hating this conversation and unwilling to just draw a final period to it. This asshole.

You

I can read

Guk

So you opened it already??

There’s a bunch of excited emojis that follows his last message and fill up the empty space your lack of response leaves. 

Why and how can he be so eager?

Here comes the delusional part of your brain. It’s a very wide, very deep hallway covered in bookshelves filled to the brim with stupid interpretations and beliefs and sometimes even memories you’ve shared with him. Often next to the laters are pinned an article from a teenage magazine or the jacket of a romance movie, specifically there to validate that yes, indeed, it must have meant something. 

The door of that corridor just creaked opened. You can discern the sound, you can feel the particular atmosphere without even having to take a step through. 

Is it really that normal to be so excited about that? For him? As a friend?

It’s the most frustrating part: you are friends. Friends who supposedly can tell each other everything. Friends who can ask each other anything. 

You should be able to talk about it. Just ask him. If there’s anything behind this whole mess, if he means to tell you something, if it’s wholly mindless, if there’s no hidden agenda.

It should be fine. There’s only trust and affection in this friendship. 

You are still too scared, you are terrified that he’d start linking dots, ask himself some new questions, potentially answer them himself, and have you all found out.

You'd have your barely well-worn cover thrown completely away. 

You send the blank emoji. The one with even the eyes closed. It summarizes your actual state pretty well, speechless, relatively annoyed. 

Guk

She said you could try it on other parts of your body too

Guk

At first

Guk

Like on your lips or your nipples

You want to die.

Now.

No, better, you wish to have never been born. 

Why is he talking about your nipples? Why?

And through all that, you still feel like something is wrong with you, along with your feelings. 

Turns out you are so overwhelmed by his clueless inadequacy, you need a good half an hour and a random shot of tequila to get through it. When it’s gone and exhaustion of a long day and alcohol have knocked nervousness and panic out, you fall asleep, forgetting about answering his outrageous last texts. 

“What does it mean if a guy talks about your nipples?”

Min's finger stops midair, above the cash register she's been working on. She needs a good minute to get back to her senses and while you wait, anxiety invades you. Maybe you should never have brought it up. 

But this question, the torturous thing is slowly killing you.

Min finally turns her head to you, eyes squinted and eyebrows drawn low. She sucks in her pretty red lips before opening them to start formulating, with it seems a certain struggle, an answer. 

“I don’t think I quite understand.”

It’s a pretty straightforward, relatively easy question. That’s what you'd want to say but you’ve reached the state of bashful regret and decide not to press it. Some things are better just left alone. 

“Who talked about your nipples?” She ends up asking the one thing you wished she wouldn’t because there is no way you’re giving his name. 

“Doesn’t matter.” You mumble, turning around slightly, getting back to the task you were here, paid, to do -wipe the shelves clean and not talk about your “““love””” life. 

“I think it does. You wanna know if it means something? Like the guy's into you?”

“Something like that.” Your cheeks are aflame now. No doubt about it. You silently curse at your manager who refuses that you don’t wear the ugly hat that holds your hair back because having a curtain of hair to hold behind, as a help to keep some of your remained, sparse dignity would have been peachy. 

“What did he say exactly?”

Silence. You’re not elaborating. She sighs, defeated. 

“Well, I suppose... he’s considered the fact that you have boobs. If it’s a straight guy, that’s a good sign, I guess?” She shrugs.

You don’t like the answer. It’s exactly what the wrong, defective part of your brain, the one directly wired to your heart, wanted to hear. 

She doesn’t even have the context, anyway. It doesn’t mean much, doesn’t hold much power in your court of sensibility. 

She stares at the side of your face, clearly attempting to drill holes in your head to try and find some answers. You’re awfully silent, have said too much yet not enough and she’s dying to know the whole story. You won’t give in and she can tell. There’s no way you’re sharing the whole thing. The most, probably, probative point of the whole story: the sex toys. It’d turn her into a devastating tsunami of nonsense and misinterpretation and drown you in its wake and you can’t, when you’re already struggling to stay afloat, allow that.

Tag list: @fangirls94 @realswimshaddy @safi4x @pnkd @somewhereinthestarss @kpopfandomftw @kai-kai-bookshelf @pasteljoonie @ggukkieland

A/N: Don’t forget to click on the next button on top, two parts are being posted simultaneously :)

[bitchin-beskar]

Royal Affairs - I

A Choice is Made

Rating: T (Will change to M in future chapters)

Warnings: None, for this chapter. 

Pairing: Din Djarin x Reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 4k

A/N: Hey all!! This is a brand new AU that I’ve decided to dive headfirst into!! An anon sent @absurdthirst a message, asking if anyone had written King Din before, and I saw it on my feed, and that inspired this series!! (on the off chance that that anon follows me, if you wanna send me a message or something, I’d be glad to credit you as the inspiration behind this story!) This is an AU story where Mandalore never fell to the Empire, and Din is the King by right of conquest (winning the Darksaber). More of the AU will be explored in the story, but if you have any questions, feel free to send me some asks! I’ll gladly answer what I can, as long as it doesn’t spoil anything!! I wholly blame @mxndoscyarika for being the reason this chapter is out so soon. She is an enabler. (@ollypopp also got to hear a lot of rambles about this au... i’m not sorry). I hope you guys like it!!!!! Please let me know what you guys think!!!

Please consider reblogging and leaving a comment!! I love hearing what you guys think!!

When you’d gone to bed last night, you certainly weren’t expecting anything monumentous to happen today. Today was supposed to be just another day spent running your little apothecary with your sister, before going to sleep and doing it all over again tomorrow. 

But as you stared down at the small little green alien child hiding behind your counter, you knew that today wasn’t going to go the way you planned. 

“Hey, little one,” you murmured, crouching down, but staying far enough back that he wouldn’t feel trapped by you. “How’d you get in here, huh? Where are your parents?”

He looked up at you with his huge round eyes, his little lip quivering, and your heart broke. 

“Hey, it’s alright sweetheart,” you whispered, holding your hands out. “I’m not gonna hurt you, it’s okay–” You were a little thrown off when he waddled straight into your arms, and you instinctively clutched him to your chest. He buried his little face into your tunic and began to cry, little heart-wrenching sobs as his tiny body shook in your arms. 

Standing, you quickly moved to the back room, seeing your sister in the middle of bottling some healing bacta salve. 

“A’denla, can you cover the shop for me?”

She turned, about to ask why when she saw the sobbing child in your arms. You mouthed that you’d explain later, and she just nodded, turning and heading for the counter, leaving you alone in the back with the little one. 

You rocked the little baby back and forth, humming softly as you tried to get him to calm down. You didn’t have a whole lot of experience with children, but you knew enough from helping watch the children of other villagers while they ran their shops when you were younger. 

His tearful cries eventually slowed to little whimpers and hiccups, and you were able to encourage him to detach from your shirt. He rubbed at his eye with his little arm, and you were startled to see a dark green, almost black bruise on his tiny wrist. 

“Who hurt you, little one?” You gently took his hand, inspecting the bruise. He whimpered when you brushed your fingers over his skin. “I bet that hurts something fierce, huh?” 

You take him over to where your sister had the bacta salve out, setting him down gently on the countertop. “Can I use some of this, sweetheart? It’ll help you heal faster.” You’re not sure if he can understand you, but then he takes a long moment to look at the little bottle of blue gel you’re holding before looking up at you, solemnly nodding, his big ears flapping a little with the motion. 

You step away to wash your hands, grabbing a small strip of gauze as well. Dipping your fingers into the salve, you gently brush it over his bruise, your heart twisting every time his little features scrunch up in pain. Once his arm is sufficiently covered, you carefully wrap the gauze around the bruise, securing it with a small clip. 

He looks at his arm before looking back at you, cooing, a wide smile on his face, showing off his baby teeth. His arms raise in the universal sign for “up please!” and you’re unable to deny him, scooping him up in your arms, and cradling him once more to your chest. 

Pressing his face against your skin with a contented sigh, he nuzzles against you for a moment before you feel his breathing begin to even out. “It must be exhausting being so little, huh?” 

You carry him over to the small bassinet you have set up for when you’re watching your brother’s baby girl when he’s busy. The little child fits easily in the small padded space, and you carefully cover him up before stepping back. You have no idea how he got to your shop, and he’s not exactly a race you recognize. Hopefully his parents are somewhere nearby, otherwise you’re going to have a hard time finding them. Although, you’d noticed that his bruises seemed to be in the shape of a hand, and you really didn’t want to place him back into the arms of abusers. 

The tinkling of a bell rang through the shop, signalling the arrival of a customer. You quickly shut the door on the small room with the bassinet, walking towards the counter where your sister is. A’denla isn’t exactly the best with people, and you know she prefers to work in the back, so as soon as you get to the counter, you nudge her away so that she can go back to packaging up products. 

She gives you a grateful smile, ducking into the back as you turn to face two of perhaps the strangest customers you’ve ever met. One is a Rodian, which isn’t necessarily odd in of itself, but usually they tend to stay away from Mandalore. Most Mandalorian’s aren’t exactly known for their tolerance towards other races. The other appears to be human, but you’ve learned to not judge people by their outward appearances.  

“We’re looking for our bounty,” the Rodian grunts in Huttese, and your eyes widen a bit. Bounty hunters. You should’ve known. You’re also surprised that Huttese is the language he chose, especially considering the two main languages on Mandalore were Mando’a and Basic. Luckily for him, you’ve always been a fan of learning different languages, and you understand basic Huttese. “It got away from us. It’s very dangerous. Have you seen it?”

You raise an eyebrow. “What does your bounty look like?”

The other hunter chimes in, this time in Basic. “It’s fifty years old but looks like a child. Some weird green frog-like thing with big ears. It’s incredibly dangerous, and you need to tell us right now if you’ve seen it.”

You manage to school your features, but internally, you’re shocked. Their bounty is the little green child you just patched up and is now sleeping in your back room? And he’s fifty? 

Something about the way the two hunters are acting strikes you as odd, and you make a split second decision. You lie. 

“I’ve not seen any creatures like that,” your voice is smooth and calm, betraying nothing. “But I’ve been in my shop all day. I’m sorry I can’t be of more help.”

For a moment, you think they don’t believe you, but the human quickly nods, grasping his fellow hunter’s arm and tugging him out of your shop. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, sagging a little as the door swung shut. 

You ducked back to the backroom, seeing your sister waiting with her arms crossed. 

“You wanna tell me why you just lied outright to two bounty hunters?” She hissed, eyes flashing. “Do you know how kriffing stupid that was?” 

You stared blankly at her. “Do you really think I’d lie to bounty hunters without a damn good reason?” Your voice was incredulous. “I’m not a di’kut, A’denla.”

She huffed, crossing her arms. “Alright, what’s the reason then?” 

You sighed, slumping against one of the tables. “They said their bounty is fifty years old, but the little one who came into our shop? He’s a baby A’denla. He may be fifty, but it’s clear he doesn’t age the same as us! What could a baby do to warrant a bounty? He was hurt, and he was hurt badly. He was sobbing and shaking and it’s clear he was terrified. I wasn’t about to hand him over to the bounty hunters who probably hurt him that bad in the first place!”

A’denla looks shocked at your little outburst, before softening slightly. She’s got a soft spot for little kids too, and you know she wouldn’t be okay with handing a child over to bounty hunters. 

“Fine, but if this brings hell down on us, I’m telling buir it was your fault, okay?”

You rolled your eyes, grabbed a basket of products, and went back out front to restock the shelves.

***

The little one had slept for a couple of hours, but now he was wide awake, and demanding your attention. You’d done your best to keep him occupied out of sight in case the bounty hunters came back, but so far, the coast had been clear. 

The door suddenly burst open, and Vyshena rushed inside. She owned a shop a couple doors down that sold mechanical parts, so she was a regular, often needing basic medical supplies to patch herself up after being a little too careless with a socket wrench.

“What do you need to–” You started, only to be cut off as Vyshena practically flung herself onto the counter, her grease stained fingers gripping the wood lightly.

“Did you hear?!”

You almost winced at the squeal, and you felt little claws dig into your legs. You looked down, to see the child grasping your leg, his ears drooping as he looked up at you with sorrowful eyes.

“Did I hear what, Vys?”

You bent down to pick up the little one, smoothing one hand over his ear as Vys started in on a rant.

“The King is coming! Apparently his kid went missing and he’s tracking him down! Y’know, he used to be a bounty hunter, so it only makes sense that he’d track his own kid down, apparently there’s a bounty from the Empire on the little guy and–”

You looked up as Vys suddenly stopped, and your brow furrowed as she made a choking sound, her eyes wide as saucers as she stared at you.

“And what, Vys?”

Instead of answering, her arm raised shakily, pointing at the little bundle you held on your hip. Her mouth was gaping, and she looked like she was about to pass out.

“Vys, are you alright?”

Her eyes flickered between your face and the kid multiple times before she sucked in a gasp. “WHAT?”

You actually flinched back at her sudden shout, and the kid whimpered, burying his face in your side.

“Vys!”

“I’m sorry, but how do you– where did– HOW DID YOU GET THE KING’S KID??”

Your eyes widened. “I’m sorry, what?”

“YOU HEARD ME!”

“What is all this racket about– oh, hi Vys.” A’denla came out from the back, her hands full of bottled bacta salve. “What’s going on?”

Vys sputtered, and so you mumbled “Apparently this is the King’s son?” As you gesture to the giggling baby on your hip.

A’denla’s jaw dropped, and she nearly dropped the bacta salve. “Are you kidding me??”

You shook your head, feeling faint, and Vys started laughing hysterically, which got the little one going too. “Not helping,” you muttered, but you couldn’t help but smile at how happy the little one looked.

“Maker, what are we gonna do?”

Your sister’s moan was mostly drowned out by the giggling, but you frowned thoughtfully. “Vys, hold him please,” you said, handing her the still laughing child, even as your request caused her to audibly shut her mouth. You rummaged through the drawers behind the counter before you found a spare sheet of paper and a pen. A’denla tried to see what you were doing but you waved her off, writing as fast as you could.

“There,” you muttered, folding up the paper, handing it to Vys in exchange for the kid. “Take this to one of the guards. They should be able to get it to the King quickly enough. It states that his son is safe, and here in the apothecary. We’re gonna close early just as an added precaution.”

Vys nodded, and you turned to A’denla. “I also wrote what I could remember about the two bounty hunters who came in, they’re probably the ones who kidnapped the kid to begin with.”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” your sister sighed. “Maker, am I glad you lied to them when they asked about the kiddo.”

“Me too.” You turned back to Vys. “Go, get that to a guard. I’ll wait here.”

Vys nodded shakily, still a little pale, but she dashed out of the shop. A’denla opened her mouth, but closed it again quickly.

“Go on, spit it out.”

She shook her head. “Buir is never gonna believe this.” You snickered, imaging your mother’s face when she found out that the King of Mandalore’s son had wandered into your apothecary.

“You should go home and tell her. I’d hate for her to hear about this from someone else.” A’denla looked worried, but you shook her off. “I’m closing the store anyways. It’s not like I won’t need your help.”

“If you’re sure?”

“Yes, go.”

After a little more persuading, A’denla finally left, leaving you and the little one alone in the shop. He was still perched on your hip, and for a moment, you stood in the middle of the store, mind racing.

“I can’t believe you’re actually the King’s son,” you muttered, looking down at the wide-eyed child. “Just my luck, huh?”

He cooed at you, playing with the fabric of your top. Your eyes fell to the gauze wrapped around his arm, and you sighed. “I guess we better check on that, buddy. Make sure you’re healing alright.”

Just like before, he was a good patient, not too squirmy as you carefully unwound the gauze. His bruise was healing nicely, and you carefully applied a little more bacta for good measure, re-wrapping his arm. Right as you were pinning it in place, a loud banging sounded from the front door.

You jumped, hand flying to your chest. Carefully picking the kid up, you made your way to the door, peering through the curtains, eyes widening as you realized just who was standing there.

Unlocking the door, you pulled it open, stepping to the side to let the odd looking group inside.

You recognized Fennec Shand, a notorious bounty hunter and partner to Boba Fett, who was also a part of the group. Both were known for their close kinship with the King. There was a woman you didn’t recognize, but judging by the small tattoo on her upper cheek, she had ties to the Republic.

Finally, clad in full beskar’gam, was the King. His beskar was unpainted, the silver gleaming in the low light of your shop. He had no shortage of weapons, his spear was strapped to his back, and a blaster and various vibroblades were strapped to his legs. But the most prominent was the Darksaber that hung from his belt.

Dropping into a curtsy, you bowed your head in respect, a quiet “my king,” leaving your lips. You’d heard stories about the King, about his strength and speed in battle, but especially from his time as a bounty hunter. He’d been one of, if not the best bounty hunter in the galaxy, before winning the Darksaber from Maul in a duel, granting him the right to the throne of Mandalore.

Some said he was cruel, terrifying and dangerous, not to mention volatile. You had no way of knowing. He wasn’t one for major public appearances, so knowledge on his true personality was reserved for those closest to him.

There was a tense silence for a moment when suddenly, the child on your hip reached his little arms out towards the King, babbling loudly. He had a large smile on his face and was wriggling desperately to get out of your grasp. 

The King took a step forward, his own hands stretching out towards his son. You carefully handed the child over, your bare hands brushing over the King’s leather gloves as you transferred the little one to his father’s arms. 

“Su’cuy, ad’ika.” 

The King’s voice was barely more than a whisper as he pressed his helmet against the little one’s brow, his hand pressing against the child’s back to hold him close. 

You fold your arms in front of you, absently noting the way that you already miss the comforting weight of the kid on your hip. You look away from the King and his son, not wanting to intrude on their reunion. 

The others seem a little uncomfortable, like you, and thankfully, the woman you don’t know breaks the awkward silence. 

“You said in your note that you had two bounty hunters come looking for him?”

You’re looking at the woman, so you don’t notice the way the King’s head whips in your direction, nor the way his hand falls to rest on the hilt of the Darksaber. 

“Mmhmm, a Rodian and a human.” You pause. “Actually, I’d almost forgotten, we had security cameras installed about a month ago, they should be on the holos.”

“Why bother with security cameras?” Fett cut in, and you were taken aback by the blatant suspicion in his voice. “This isn’t exactly a high crime area.”

You sighed. “We had a break in a couple months ago. Some di’kut took off with half our supply of bacta salve. We’re one of the only apothecaries on Mandalore licensed to make it, and unfortunately, that usually means we have a large stock, and the prices are pretty steep.” 

“You didn’t report it.”

You narrowed your eyes at the accusatory tone. “I figure if someone’s going to go to all that trouble just to steal bacta salve and not even touch the register or safe, they probably needed it. It’s diluted when it’s in a salve, so it can’t be sold on the black market, unlike pure bacta.” 

“What’s this?”

You started at the King’s voice, turning to look in his direction, seeing him inspecting the gauze wrapped around the little one’s arm. You frowned. “The little one had a pretty bad bruise, it was nearly black. I applied some bacta salve and wrapped it. I checked it just before you got here, it looks a lot better.”

“And I suppose you just thought it was okay to–”

“Fett.”

Your eyes widened at the King’s tone, looking away as the green-armoured bounty hunter grumbled, but stayed silent. 

“I’m a licensed medic, and I have been for close to ten years now. I know what I’m doing.” Perhaps your voice was a little defensive, but you weren’t going to apologize for easing the kid’s pain, no matter the opinion of grumpy men in beskar. 

“Thank you.”

You nodded at the King, eyes flicking up to his helmet before looking away, your cheeks growing warm. You weren’t sure what it was about him, but something about the way he seemed to stare directly into your soul, even through the beskar made you feel... odd.

He handed the little one to the woman with the tattoo, before turning back to you. “May I see the holos?”

You nodded again, turning and walking towards the back of the shop, where the holos were stored. It wasn’t a large room, an old refurbished closet really, and it was a bit tight for one person, let alone a second covered in beskar. You opened up the data station and pulled up the holos from earlier, trying to ignore the silent mountain of a man behind you. You could feel his eyes on your back, and you tried to suppress the shiver that ran down your spine. 

You found the correct timestamp, and enlarged the holovid, pointing to the figures on the screen. “This is when they entered.”

Suddenly, there was a large warm hand on the small of your back as the King stepped up behind you, his other hand coming down to rest on the surface of the table, caging you in as he leaned forward. He was peering over your shoulder, and you inadvertently sucked in a breath at the sudden closeness. 

The two of you watched the footage in silence. Unfortunately, you didn’t have audio to go with the holos, so all the King would have to go off of is the visual. 

“Is there anything distinctive about them that you can remember?” He murmured, the rasp of his helmet’s modulator doing nothing to hide the exquisite way his voice sounded in your ear. 

“Um–” You trailed off, trying to focus, which was especially hard with the King so kriffing close. “Uh, the Rodian? He spoke Huttese.” You could’ve smacked yourself. Of course the Rodian spoke Huttese, it was a common language bounty hunters learned, and Rodian’s were known for speaking it along with their native Rodese. 

The King let out a sigh, and just as you were about to apologize, he thanked you. 

“That– that helps. Thank you, very much.” His hand pressed a little more into your back, and you fought the urge to arch into his touch. You weren’t some child with a crush damn it, you were a village shopkeeper and he was your king. It would be entirely inappropriate, although your traitorous mind was quick to remind you that his touching you could be considered inappropriate as well. 

You told your mind to shut the hell up. 

“You’re welcome, my king.” 

There, that was a perfectly respectable answer. Now all you had to do was avoid embarrassing yourself any further, and–

“Please, darling. Call me Din.”

Well, there went that plan. 

You bit your lip and looked down at the keyboard, hoping that the King–Din, didn’t see your hands tighten at the sound of his voice when he called you darling. 

“Can you give me a copy of these holovids?” 

You nodded, grateful for something, anything to distract you from the peculiar man at your back. Copying the holos onto a drive unfortunately didn’t take very long, and when you turned to hand them to the Ki–Din, your eyes widened when you realized just how close he was to you. Your chests were practically touching, and you had to tilt your head up to be able to look at his helmet, which was aimed directly at you. 

He carefully took the drive, tucking it into one of the pockets on his belt, before stepping back, crossing one arm over his chest and bowing. To you. 

“You’ve done me a great service. I won’t forget it.” 

You swallowed harshly. For a moment, it had sounded like he’d said “I won’t forget you,” although it had to be wishful thinking on your part. He was your King, you were so far removed from royalty it wasn’t even funny. He was just being polite. 

“I’m just glad you were able to reunite with your son. He seems to love you a lot.”

“His name is Grogu. I was blessed with him as my foundling, and I treasure him greatly.”

You smiled. It was clear as day how much the King loved his son, and how the little one returned those feelings tenfold. To be blessed with a foundling was a great honor, and it didn’t surprise you one bit that your King had been blessed in such a way. 

He stepped back to make space for you to leave the small room, and you hurried to where the others were undoubtedly waiting, only just now realizing how long the two of you had been gone.

Fett and Shand were gone by the time you got back to the main floor of your shop. Just the woman and the little one–Grogu–stood their waiting. The King easily plucked Grogu from the woman’s grasp, and with a tight nod, she left your shop as well, leaving you alone with the King and his son. 

He turned back to you, his helmet once more trained on your face. “I must thank you again, for everything.”

You felt your cheeks grow warm at the gratitude dripping from his words. “It was nothing, my king,” you murmured, curtsying once more. 

As you slowly straightened back up, the King reached out and ever so gently lifted your chin, the leather of his glove pressing into your skin. You were forced to look at him, even as the fluttering in your stomach renewed with vigour.

“I’ve already told you, darling. Call me Din.” 

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