#i HOPE shes different now. but i have doubts.

[screamlet]

08x06 fix-it fic: break and be mended

not connected to that excerpt i posted before, just something completely different. 4.5k, read on the ao3

---

Another hospital room. Buck takes a deep breath and closes his eyes again, letting it out and hoping he gets back to sleep. It doesn't happen, though, because his brain catches up to his eyes:

Maddie, wearing a yellow paper hospital mask, a hand anxiously on her belly, sitting in the chair next to him with that too-familiar oh-thank-god-you're-finally-awake face… and Tommy leaning in the doorway.

He takes another deep breath and opens his eyes again.

"You're okay," Maddie says patiently, slowly, as Buck tries to slam the door shut or set the doorway on fire with his brain. "It's just the turkey flu, it hit you hard."

That breaks Buck's concentration. "Wait, is this a dream? Another coma dream? Turkey flu has to be something I made up."

Maddie raises her eyebrows and looks over her shoulder at Tommy before turning back to Buck. "Another one?"

"No, no, don't look at him," Buck interrupts. "He's not supposed to be here, not when I have turkey flu, not ever. He broke up with me, remember?"

In the doorway, Tommy shifts his weight from one foot to the other. He's wearing the dark blue LAFD t-shirt and pleated pants, a special Air Ops patch on his shirt sleeve. They always lurked under his flight suit, under his turnouts when they were on the same scene, but Buck didn't get to see them often. It was for the best, he thinks now, because the shirt fits perfectly across Tommy's chest and shoulders, the pants belted low. His shirt is tucked in better than Buck's ever is. He almost never got to see him like this so it feels like some new Tommy he's seeing, a Tommy that hangs around Harbor long enough to take off his flight suit but doesn't peel the rest of his work self off. He doesn't get off his shift, put the pilot away, shower and go home.

Buck looks away. He's looked too long.

"I'm actually here, you know." Tommy raps his knuckles on the door like that's proof of anything except a very strong poltergeist. "I can hear you."

Buck watches something that he hasn't seen in years sweep across Maddie's face (mostly her eyebrows, because of the mask).

She turns around and snaps, "I let you come within ten feet of my brother and you think bitchy fun Tommy was invited, too? He was not." Tommy looks shocked and abashed; Buck loves her so much.

"Why was he invited at all, Maddie?" Buck asks. "And you're both real, right? Like I'm not hallucinating both of you. Is that a turkey flu symptom? Can I have my phone? I need to look up turkey flu."

"It's a strain of avian flu, you just happened to get it from a turkey farm. Hen said you had a call to one of those last week," Maddie explains. "And you kept giggling when I said the words turkey flu so, you know, why not?"

"It's pretty funny," Buck admits. "Hey, why's he here?"

Maddie turns around and looks at Tommy expectantly. Buck still knows his face, still knows him, and can see the quip that wants to escape past his lips. He can see the work it takes to hold it back and look sincere, really sincere, for them.

"You collapsed at a scene and I flew you over," Tommy says. "I wanted to make sure you were okay."

Buck stares at him as he presses his lips into a fine line. "I'm okay. Thanks."

Tommy nods, then asks, "Can we talk? Alone?"

It's taken four months, almost as long as they were together, but Buck's finally hearing the words he's wanted to hear since Tommy walked out his door. I'm sorry, I was scared, I love you, yes let's take the next step together, from now on let's take every step together—that was Buck's first choice. Can we talk as a jumping off point for all those other things—that was Buck's second choice. Was.

Buck glances at Maddie and knows his face does something dumb. "I'll be outside," Maddie says. "And I'm not far, if you want me to throw him out." She looks over her shoulder at Tommy. "I'll do it."

Tommy nods. "Wouldn't doubt you for a second."

She squeezes Buck's hand and lingers for a beat, one long look at him like she's waiting for him to say actually, wait, don't, stay, but he doesn't. He hates that he doesn't. He hates that he wants to hear what Tommy has to say.

She and Tommy swap places; he takes the chair next to Buck's bed and she leaves, shutting the door behind her. Tommy doesn't see the way she passes by the window like a shark, watching, but Buck laughs. When Tommy looks back, she's gone.

"Your sister's changed a little," Tommy says casually. "Her sense of humor, I mean."

Buck licks his lips. "Yeah, well, when you were my boyfriend, you were her friend. Now you're neither."

"Yep, got it," Tommy says. He sits back in the chair, but looks so uncomfortable that someone would think he'd never sat in one before.

"Are you okay?" Buck asks. "Why are you here?"

"This chair is so weird."

"Tommy, what do you want to talk about?"

It startles Tommy, and it should. He only got soft and smitten, totally-in-love (even if he couldn't admit it out loud) Evan Buckley, cute and bratty Evan Buckley. He doesn't get that Evan anymore. No one has.

Tommy sits with his feet flat on the floor and his hands folded in his lap. He takes a minute, a long minute, of staring at the floor before he looks up and stares at Buck. "You asked me to move in with you."

Buck blinks. "I did."

"You asked me to move in with you."

"You said that. I mean, I said that, but you—"

"Evan," Tommy interrupts.

"I thought I was Buck now," Buck interrupts.

Bitchiness lurks on Tommy's tongue, but he holds it back. "You asked me to move in with you. Into the loft."

Buck tilts his head. "Yeah?"

Tommy shuts his eyes hard and shakes his head before he looks at Buck again. "Evan, I own a house."

"... okay?"

"Did you ask me to move in with you and expect me to give up my house?"

"What, no—" Buck says, then stops himself. "I don't—I didn't think—"

"Did you even think about that?" Tommy asks. "Like when you talked about moving in together, getting married, the future, all of that—did you even remember that I own a house?"

"You know," Buck interrupts. "Four months ago, you could have said, haha, wow, that's moving pretty fast, also I own a house, maybe when we're ready, we could move into MY HOUSE and make it OUR HOUSE, but you needed to run out the door so why would you say any of that?"

"Yeah! I was freaked out! Because here was this guy I—this guy I really liked, and he asked me, a 40-year-old man, to move into his loft?"

"What's wrong with it? Why do you keep saying it like that?"

"It's downtown! Downtown is loud and filthy and did I mention it's noisy? It was hell sleeping there in the summer because even with your central air, heat rises and it rises right into the bedroom. I saw your electric bill, Evan, it was unforgivable."

Buck wants to throw something at him. "And we could have been at your house, quiet and with better temperature control, but we weren't because…?"

"I'm just saying," Tommy continues. "Yeah, all that's true, but I realized you wanted me, wanted a future with me, and you didn't even remember that when I wasn't working or with you, I was at my house."

"I get that," Buck says. "Now how many times did we hang out at your house?"

Tommy sighs. "It's out of the way, your place was always closer to the 118 and to Harbor, and I kept—I was going to, okay? Like maybe after our anniversary, we'd take a week off together and we'd actually be at my house, or take a trip somewhere—"

"You got me basketball tickets," Buck snipes at him.

Tommy stops completely.

"For our six month anniversary, remember?"

"How the hell am I going to forget that?"

"You got me tickets to see the Lakers. Really good tickets."

Tommy rolls his eyes. "Alright, well, that's the last time I call that guy I know in the press office for anything."

Buck thinks he's getting closer to setting something on fire with his mind. "I hate basketball."

Tommy stares at him. "What the hell are you talking about? We met because of basketball."

Buck sits up so quickly and angrily he starts wheezing and that turns into a coughing fit. Tommy's immediately there, sitting on the edge of his bed with water, getting him to take a small sip as he rubs his back. When Buck realizes what's happening, he covers his mouth with his blanket and shoves Tommy away, coughing even more.

"Sorry, I was just—"

"I have turkey flu!" Buck yells through the blanket covering his mouth.

"The doctor said you're not contagious anymore."

Buck points at a small paper box across the room. Tommy, so put-upon, grabs a pale yellow mask and slips it on before he sits in the chair again. "Sorry."

"It's—" Buck halts because Tommy had grabbed two masks and was holding one out to him expectantly. Tommy motions to it again and Buck can see how he wants to make a bitchy comment about not having this conversation through a hospital blanket, but he doesn't. That's what makes Buck reach out and put the mask on. The icy fist around his heart thinks about melting.

"We didn't meet because of basketball, we met because of Bobby and Athena and the cruise ship," Buck corrects. "I wanted to see you again after that tour at Harbor but I couldn't think of another reason—"

"I gave you the widest of openings," Tommy interrupts. "Hello? Flight lessons? When you finally offered to buy me a beer, I almost dropped to my knees right then and there."

"But you never called me! You're the one who left to hang out with Eddie!"

Tommy throws up his hands. "Ball was in your court! Speaking of basketball."

Buck sighs, exasperated. "We weren't, like, running into each other, I didn't have a reason to call you—don't say the beer—so finally I saw Eddie was going to that pick-up game with you and I dragged Chimney along."

"Right," Tommy says. "And you played basketball with us. We kicked your ass in a way that made me think you were pretending to be bad at it to make me feel good or something? And then there was the whole thing with Eddie's ankle."

"I hate basketball!"

"You brought your own ball!"

"I same-day ordered a basketball so that when I showed up you'd be like, wow, that guy's ready for basketball, what a cool guy!"

"So you're mad that your basketball ruse worked on my dumb ass, and worked so well for six months that I got you Lakers tickets for our anniversary."

Buck's so annoyed that he put it like that. Maybe that's true, but he didn't have to say it. "I don't like basketball! It was a ruse but I didn't hide it after. You watched games with Eddie and I never came along because I don't like basketball."

"You said you wanted us to have our Eddie-Tommy friend time!"

"Why do you make me sound and feel like a five-year-old? Eddie-Tommy friend time? Seriously?"

Tommy folds his hands together like he's in prayer and shuts his eyes. "Okay, listen, I just. I wanted to get the house thing off my chest, alright? Because it's—it's bothered me so much."

Buck could argue about the basketball thing for about another 500 years, except that Tommy has said what he said. "Has it?"

Tommy puts his hands in his lap again, folded politely as he looks at Buck. "I meant what I said. You were so swept away in how new and exciting everything felt, that I felt like you forgot who you were talking to. Like… I'm not a guy who's going to move in with you. I'm a guy who has a house with a home gym and a car lift, and—and the winter was so mild that I put in this little patio space in the backyard. I bought furniture for it. I took this corner of my front lawn, too, and started to plan a pollinator's garden because they sounded really interesting after those three days of bee hell. Evan, I have a house."

"You keep saying that," Buck says. His ears are burning, but he's listening too intently to feel embarrassed about it (much).

"I freaked out, alright? Because I heard: give up your house to live in this downtown loft with a couch that has a faded but GIANT blood and placenta stain on the other side of the cushion, and then the words engaged and married got thrown in there, too? All in the same breath?"

Buck stares flatly, then nods. "Yeah. I get it. Sorry." He clears his throat and grabs his water before Tommy can offer it to him. He takes a sip, looking at Tommy before he nods at the closed door. "Are we done here?"

"And I'm not a gay rights hero," Tommy adds. "You said that, too." Tommy looks away, and looks so miserable. "I'm just a guy, Evan. I've been burned before by younger guys who thought I was everything that their first gay boyfriend should be, and then—and they didn't see who I was. It's always—" Tommy holds out his hands like he's balancing scales. "Not straight enough to fake a life with a woman, not gay enough to have a real life with a man."

Buck hasn't done this in so long that his throat almost aches with it. He sighs, pained and breathless, the word crinkling against the mask: "Tommy." He swallows again and asks, "Did you really think that was me?"

Another long pause. It ends with Tommy saying, "I thought you were too good to be true."

"I'm not, though, I'm—I'm just me," Buck says. "And I did have a lot to figure out, but not about you."

Tommy laughs suddenly. "Really? Because you forgot I was a homeowner and I didn't know you hated basketball. Did you even go to that game?"

Buck coughs. "I gave the tickets to Karen and she took one of her brothers. They're nuts about the Lakers."

"Huh," Tommy says. "Well. I'm not mad about that."

The two of them are quiet until Buck says, "Seems there's a lot of things we don't know about each other."

Tommy glances at him; Buck can see the shape of his smirk beneath the mask, and the very specific way it makes his eyes crinkle. "And just when we thought we knew everything about each other."

"Yeah, I thought that, too, and then you dropped that you were engaged to my first serious girlfriend at our six month anniversary dinner." Buck raises his eyebrows. "Do you land helicopters that smoothly, too?"

"I got you here, didn't I?" Tommy bites back, then catches himself with a laugh. "Okay. Fair point."

It's so easy, it's so easy, it's so easy, it's so easy and Buck hasn't had it easy for months. He hasn't had these quips, this back-and-forth, this person who got him until he didn't, who—Buck rubs at his eyes. Tommy made it easy. He made everything easy. Not perfect, not effortless, but easy. Easier.

"So, uh." Buck fusses with the blanket in his lap. "What have you been doing for the past four months? You, uh…"

"Am I seeing anyone?" Buck nods. "I was, yeah. Didn't last that long."

Buck can't help himself: "Neither did we."

"Ouch." Tommy looks back. "And you?"

"Yeah," Buck says. "I liked them but I broke up with them because it just—it wasn't going anywhere."

"And what's wrong with that? Staying in one place? Isn't that what you wanted for us?"

It's not, but Buck can't articulate it, so he says, "Do you think that's the same?"

A beat, and then Tommy says: "No. No, I don't."

"Tommy," Buck says quietly. "How many people do I have to be with before you decide I've figured it out?"

Tommy's eyes widen. "What? I never said that."

"Tell me what you said, then." Buck swallows painfully, that turkey flu kicking his ass harder than he thought. "Tell me what you meant when you said I didn't know what I wanted. Because I told you what I wanted. I told you I was ready for something and all the things we did together, I thought that you believed me. I guess you didn't, so tell me how many bodies it'll take before you believe me."

Tommy doesn't say anything.

"God, and you know what really sucks?" Buck asks. "That we were together long enough to talk about who we'd been with so we could get tested and be safe. We talked about all that, but I never told you how many times I'd had my heart broken and you never told me yours."

"Three," Tommy eventually says. "Shawn, who was like… all of 25. He was all-in, knowing for sure that the first time was the charm, and I was old enough and steady enough to be That Guy. I believed the hype even though I was barely out of the closet. I shouldn't throw stones at Abby's House of Himbos when I set up my own on the other side of town. And then there was Raúl, my Army buddy who came out to his family and immediately moved to LA to get away from them. Everything felt like a fresh start for him, but… not quite for me."

Buck thinks to ask, but Tommy beats him to it. "Do I need to say the third?" Buck shakes his head. "What about you?"

"Abby, and you." Buck looks at Tommy as he says, "It's not just ending things with someone because it doesn't work. It's heart break. Something's gotta break and be mended."

"I don't think I did that part. You've one-upped me there."

Buck wouldn't have believed that 20 minutes ago, but he believes it now.

"So Bobby's been there, watched me since I was Abby's himbo and helped me to grow into the person who wanted that stuff with you. Once he, kinda, told me that if I care about how people see me, then I haven't learned a damn thing," Buck says. "And that is and isn't true, here. I can't live hoping I meet people's expectations of what they think I should be. I want people—I wanted you—to see me as I am. I thought you did but you didn't, and I didn't either because I didn't see how scared you were. I've made my peace with that. We had something really special and made each other feel really good but, in the end, I guess we were saying all the right things to people we didn't know."

Tommy listens, considers, and nods. "Whole lot of past tense, there."

Buck glances at him and doesn't want to look away, but he does. He doesn't meet Tommy's eyes. He's scared, too. He's done enough today: said a lot of things he's been thinking about for four months and said them very calmly and thoughtfully, but this is gonna hurt. It hurt Buck to realize it and it's gonna hurt Tommy to hear it.

"You got what you wanted, right?" Buck asks. "You got to keep your heart, and I don't feel new and excited anymore." Buck inhales deep; it hurts. "I feel like I did before, like I'm short one piece of being whole. Now the ocean I have to search is so much wider and deeper. So thanks for that, I guess."

"Evan—"

"I let you into my family," Buck interrupts sharply. "Because I cared about you and because you fit. I fit because they're mine and that's my family I made, and you fit there right next to me. With us."

"You're absolutely right."

Buck watches him, tries to see behind the sunshine yellow and white mask on his face, but all he sees are his eyes that, like always, make Buck feel too much, like laser beams disintegrating him.

"Were you really that scared?" Buck can't help the way his voice cracks. "You were that scared of me?"

Tommy looks up again, lasers in place. "I was that in love with you." He shakes his head like he did that last night in the kitchen, and looks up like he'll tip the tears back into his eyes. "And those heartbreaks—you'd leave them light-years behind if I let you. You'd leave me light-years behind."

Buck nods, then says, "Could you leave, please." His wet breathing crinkles grossly in the mask. "Thanks for telling me all this, thanks for the closure, but I don't need to see what someone looks like after they've walked away from me."

"You collapsed at a scene three days ago and I was the closest pilot to medevac you here," Tommy says slowly. "You were delirious and told Shreya, Don't tell Tommy I'm sick, he doesn't care anymore."

Tommy clears his throat. "I do care. I never stopped."

Buck sits back in his hospital bed and pulls the blanket up to his neck, the only comfort he's got right now. "If this is a turkey flu dream, I'm gonna be so pissed at you, real you," Buck says.

Tommy laughs quietly, sadly, then hesitates for a moment. "Can I ask you something? Can I ask you the scariest thing I've ever asked anyone in my entire life?"

Buck doesn't move, doesn't breathe. "What is it?" he finally asks.

"Will you give me a second chance?"

Buck, hearing what he's quietly dreamed of hearing for four months, doesn't feel the euphoria he thought he would. He feels something else, though: a strange kind of wonder that someone wants him again. Again. He swallows hard, feeling the pain right in his turkey-flu-ridden throat. Someone knew him. Someone left him. Someone came back—came back for him.

Tommy left. Tommy came back. Tommy wanted him then. Tommy wants him now. Tommy's wanted him all along.           

Buck asks, "Will you invite me to your place more than once every six months?"

Tommy's half-smile is still wide enough for Buck to see behind the mask. It falls, though, back into something serious. "Will you forgive me when I'm not a paragon of queer virtue?"

"Will you believe me when I tell you I've fucked around and found out enough for a lifetime?"

Tommy raises his eyebrows ever so slightly. "Will you believe me when I tell you I've fucked around and found out enough for a lifetime?"

Buck thinks he smiles a little behind his mask, but it doesn't stay. "Are we gonna break up again?"

"I don't know," Tommy admits. "But maybe next time we can stop each other and hit the brakes. I love romcoms, but maybe we don't do that again: you don't propose fixing a problem with marriage and a baby, and I won't run out the door."

Buck raises his eyebrows, too. "Who said anything about a baby?"

Tommy sputters. "I mean, you were the one raising the stakes before."

Buck laughs. "Right, right."

The quiet stretches out between them. They look at each other and don't look away. The stubborn, proud, cocky side of Buck feels annoyed that this feels like—like he can't get out of this. Like all roads lead back to Tommy, like he doesn't have a choice. Like if he wants to be happy, it's with this person.

A part of him wants to run and throw himself into the hunt again. He wants to thrive in the search for someone who makes him feel that euphoria and fondness and love that he felt with Tommy. He tries to imagine someone else, some vague smoky figure that isn't Tommy's height, Tommy's build, Tommy's arms crossed over his chest and that tilt of his head. The problem is that Buck feels more looking at that furrow and arch of his eyebrows than he's felt for anyone he's met in the past four months, maybe even longer.

Not all roads lead to Tommy—only the ones he wants to take.

"Say it again?" Buck asks.

Tommy nods ever so slightly. "I'm in love with you." He pauses and a smile reaches his eyes. "I love you."

Buck can't help the way his eyes water; neither can Tommy.

"Ask me again," Buck says.

"Will you give me a second chance?"

"Yeah." Buck wonders if his own smile reaches his eyes. He hopes it does. "Yeah. Will you?"

Tommy chokes out a laugh behind his mask. "Yeah, god, of course. Of course. You sure?"

"About you?" Buck asks. "Yeah. I mean, I want to be. Don't make me regret it."

"Don't make me give up my real estate."

"Don't make me go to any sports events."

"Seriously? Not even baseball?"

"God," Buck moans. "The sleepiest one of all."

"Hockey's good."

"You hate the Kings."

Tommy scoffs. "Of course I do. You always hate your local teams—you just hate visiting teams more. Can't let management get comfortable."

Buck attempts to take a deep, exasperated breath, but he forgets that he has the fucking turkey flu. He chokes and starts to cough and wheeze, but Tommy's there again. He freely, lovingly pushes Buck further to the other side of the hospital bed so he can sit and take care of him: water, tissues, hand on his chest to steady him, eyes worried and on him.

"It's not official until you kiss me," Buck says. "I'm not contagious."

"I mean, not with turkey flu," Tommy says. "Your Buckness? That I'm not so sure."

"Don't call me that anymore," Buck says.

Tommy puts his cup of water on the table next to Buck's bed, then shifts so he and Buck are closer, face-to-face, head on looking at each other. "How'd you get even brattier in only four months?"

"How'd you forget I was this bratty?"

"At my age, well, everything's starting to go."

Buck laughs, then coughs and wheezes. "Stop making me laugh."

"How'd you forget I was this funny?"

Buck tilts his head. "I didn't. I didn't forget a thing."

Tommy searches his face, then cups his jaw with one hand. Buck doesn't lean into it, just lets Tommy hold him as he tips Buck's chin up ever so slightly.

Then Tommy kisses his forehead and his birthmark, and wraps his arms around Buck. It's the warmest Buck has felt all winter. It finally feels like spring.

---

read on the ao3

[loved-reid]

You’re Cute…Yet Irritating [s.r]

Post prison!Spencer Reid x sunshine!fem!reader

Summary: She’s always humming a tune, dancing, or tapping her fingers. And Spencer can’t stand it.

Warnings: Angst with happy ending, irritated Spencer, crying, self doubt, rude comments, self hatred, etc.

Note: I always fidget and I thought this would be cute! Let me know what y’all think!!

Sorry for any errors! I didn’t re-read it! :)

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

2,745 times

And yes, he was unfortunately counting.

He bet she didn’t even know she was doing it, the repetitive rhythm of her finger nails on the desk. Files piled it, almost all the time, and Spencer always had to walk by with his fist in his mouth to prevent himself from organizing it the way he liked.

He was going to be honest, he kind of missed having that feeling, the urge to clean or organize. It told him, in a way, that his old self was still with him, and that little thing gave him hope that he so tightly held onto.

But his old self was able to focus. His old self was able to dig himself into file folders and never be able to leave, yet the tapping.

Spencer couldn’t take it.

His eye twitched every time she breathed particularly loud, his lips pursed when her foot started tapping on the floor, and, worst of all, his head shuttered when her dang finger nails tapped on the desk’s top.

He hated the noise.

And it surprised him that he did, it was such a little thing that was apparently going unnoticed by everyone else. But he just couldn’t focus on his work with the practical racket that was doing on next to him.

He wasn’t gonna lie, he almost got up just then to go ask Hotch for a desk rearrangement. But he knew that his boss would suspect something and either tease him about it or shake his head about how ridiculous it was.

Spencer agreed as well. He couldn’t change seats just because the woman next to him was tapping her fingers.

Gosh, even thinking it sounded absurd.

But he couldn’t help but imagine silence.

Silence while his brain could process things.

Spencer could’ve lost it when she started humming a soft tune. She seemed to have a new one in her head every day, each time she sat down, tea in hand, she hummed a different song than yesterday.

He couldn’t quite pin point which one it was, but he didn’t dare to continue thinking to figure it out.

His head turned toward her, hoping she’d notice his glare but she didn’t, she’s still stuck on the file she was looking at.

“Quit that, will ya?”

Her head snapped up at the sudden outburst, surprise reflecting in her eyes yet he spotted confusion.

How was she confused to the constant annoying tapping she was doing? And the humming? Spencer was slowly loosing his mind.

He took a deep breath to prevent from lashing out, his hand coming out and wiggling his fingers toward hers.

“T-the tapping, it’s irritating. Quit it please.”

Her face dropped from surprised to hurt, and Spencer somehow hated that it was quiet as soon as he said something.

“Right. Sorry,” she whispered so softly Spencer almost couldn’t hear her. She tried to add a little chuckle at the end of her murmur, yet her voice cracked against her own accord.

He watched her fingers stop, instead clenching them in a fist tightly.

Spencer should’ve been glad that the silence he so wanted was granted, but something unsettling brewed in his chest at her facial expression, her now glossy eyes staring at her computer screen. He also noticed her other hand that wasn’t holding the folder was digging into her thigh to prevent it from bouncing out of anxiety.

He didn’t know the feeling, regret, maybe, but all Spencer knew was that he wished he hadn’t said those words.

But he didn’t want to say sorry, something inside him prevented him from doing it. Maybe he was selfish because he ignored the regret in him and took the opportunity to have the ability to focus once more.

“I can’t help, falling in love with you,” she hummed softly, just under her breath as she stirred her favorite tea in the mug the next morning.

Spencer had to admit, he missed her singing in the morning. It reminded him that through all the terrible cases they’ve experienced, there was still happiness in the world, still hope, and she clearly found it through music.

But the pounding headache that didn’t go away that day prevented him from being kind.

So he couldn’t dare to show his wishes of her singing more often, heck no. And the more he thought about it the more irritating it became. He became hyper focused on the breath before each sentence she sang, the cinnamon toothpaste blaring his nose. She was also slightly off pitch every couple seconds, and she sang a couple words wrong.

It got worse when she took forever to mix her tea, blocking his path towards the coffee machine.

He huffed, ignoring the way she flinched. “Move, will ya? There’s people who actually want to do their job and not sing songs about sunshine and rainbows; just please let me get some coffee.”

Her once upwards lips turned down, the light in her eyes going out. She cleared her throat. “Right, s-sorry.”

Spencer couldn’t help it. The comment spat out before he could control it. “S-sorry,” he mimicked. “You do know confidence is a key to this job, right? Quit the childish stuttering it’s infuriating.”

He didn’t see her reaction, but if he did he would see glossy eyes and a facial expression that represented a shattered heart.

She raced out of the room, tea discarded on the counter and beelined towards the bathrooms. She quickly fumbled with the lock. It echoed throughout the bathroom, somehow making her emotions worsen. The tears went full force, a sob covered by her hands surrounding her.

His words kept repeating themselves in her head, telling her that she wasn’t good enough for the job.

Why even apply? He was clearly smarter than her and took things more seriously. What was she thinking? Coming into a field like this and humming and singing all the time? Who does that?

She could feel her makeup smearing, and her black fingers rubbing her cheeks confirmed her suspicions.

She never knew Spencer’s problem with her. Every moment she recalled every encounter, hoping not to come across a moment where she offended him. And she never did.

But now she knew. It was her humming, her tapping, her singing, her stuttering.

She wasn’t good enough to be here.

The thought made her cry harder, the type of sob where your breath catches in your throat, your vision blurry as your chest aches.

A soft knock on the stall door made her both flinch hardly and gasp at the same time.

A throat was cleared, an awkward moment of silence shoving its way between them.

“Can I come in?”

The voice on the other side wasn’t one she expected. Her heart started going on its own path, thumping quickly within her chest.

Her hand moved on its own accord, though hesitantly, and opened the lock.

Spencer’s hand came into view, opening the door and entering himself, closing and locking the door behind him.

Something about him being so close, the door locked, and them being in a place just for one person made her already beating heart pound harder.

His features, no doubt, were beautiful. His nose was like a button, eyes like chocolate in fresh cookies, lips soft and full like a blooming flower.

His hair, oh his hair. It was like a soft blanket she wanted to nestle her fingers onto, pulling at the roots until he let out a satisfying noise-

No.

He hurt her. The words he said. She was upset. He doesn’t like her.

Then why was he having such an effect on her?

Him clearing his throat once more caught her out of her thoughts, eyes meeting his.

“I wanted to say sorry. For what I said,” he whispered, and she noticed his fingers playing with each other. “It wasn’t nice nor professional. And I don’t mean any of it.”

His apology was simple and sincere, eyes somehow widening while gazing at her. (Or were his eyes always like that? Full and desperate?)

“And in case you were wondering, you’re lovely at your job,” he sounded like he was rambling again, but he also seemed desperate to get the words out. “Your singing brings happiness to the place. You’re more than good enough to be here. And I’m sorry I made you doubt your amazing abilities.”

She felt a soft smile come to her lips, cheeks reddening at his complements. She wiped her nose. “Really?”

He nodded, leaning down and grabbing some toilet paper to wipe her cheeks.

Instead of simply giving it to her, he wiped them himself, wiping the damage he did to her away on his own. “I mean it with my whole heart.”

Her heart warmed.

“Thank you Spencer,” she whispered shyly.

He gave her a toothless smile, opening his arms for a hug from her.

Her heart pounded, knowing he barely let anyone touch him, but stepped towards him nonetheless.

Her arms went underneath his blazer, on top of his dress shirt (causing him to shiver) and laying her head on his chest.

He embraced her back, far too tall to be over her shoulder so he rested his chin on her head, shampoo filling his nose.

They stayed like that for a couple moments before pulling back to look at each other.

His eyes met hers, emotions swirling around, like they were trying to tell him something.

If it was a warning or an invitation Spencer didn’t know, but he leaned forward to find out, nose brushing hers.

Her lips parted, causing his eyes to shoot downward at the movement.

He gave her a moment to push away, to shove him out of the stall for even thinking she had any interest on him.

The rejection never came.

He finally planted his mouth on hers, her hands shooting to his hair to pull at his roots, a small groan leaving his lips.

His lips tasted like coffee and something truly Spencer.

Whatever it was pulled her in more, craving the taste of his mouth.

They finally pulled away, breath fanning each other’s faces. She was the one who laughed first against his lips, and he copied her before kissing her once again.

Sure, she was irritating at times, but she was cute, he’d give her that.

[butchvamp]

okay i've played a bit more and i have a lot of thoughts about Taash and the way gender is being handled overall in this game...

first i will say the positives which is that i do really appreciate the attempt at incorporating trans characters both in the world as companions and allowing us to make those options in the cc. and as someone who also writes dark fantasy stories with trans characters i do understand how difficult it can be to incorporate these identities into a world that doesn't necessarily have the same language as we do; but overall the way they've approached this feels very... i've seen some people call it unpolished but i actually feel the opposite. it's almost clinical (therapy-speak in general has been a main criticism of this game) and it's way too polished, in my opinion, which is what makes it so jarring to see.

there has been a trans character established in game previously, there is already a precedent for these identities to exist in this world, and they have never used this language before. the way Iron Bull talked about Krem felt far more realistic and integrated into the world of Thedas comparatively. was it perfect? no, of course not, but i chafe at the idea that it needs to be perfect, anyways. this is another problem the game has; past characters have had their flaws completely ironed out (Isabela is now a paragon of friendship and returns cultural artifacts instead of looting them, Dorian has multiple codex entries wallowing about how he used to defend slavery, the Crows have suddenly become a big found family-- on and on and on) and while i have my criticisms of some of these flaws (Dorian's pro-slavery rant in inqusition still makes my eyes roll) i dislike the way they're handling these changes and just expecting us to ignore all of the lore and worldbuilding from previous games. and all of this "political correctness" only for the game to still be so racist.

which brings me back to Taash.... Taash is very strange character, lacking agency around both their gender and their culture. they are simply a mouthpiece for the writer. while yes, it should always be made undeniable that your character is trans or gay or xyz, Taash really does only exist to be nonbinary. and to be clear, a nonbinary character like them could be very interesting, if their writing wasnt so... white. we know that the Qun has different ideas about gender than Rivain (and elsewhere) and this could have been a very interesting exploration of that; however, it is obvious that the Qun (and Taash's mother) are meant to be depicted negatively, and ultimately it ends with the player (not Taash) choosing between their two cultures. their gender is clearly far more important to the writer and the only facet of their identity they seemed willing to explore, which makes me question why even make this character qunari to begin with...

Neve and Rook are also the two that spur Taash into exploring their gender. this, on the surface, is not a problem for me. i'm playing as a trans Rook and while the dialogue was again very overpolished and clunky i found it kind of endearing. but the way Neve is used as this "foil" for Taash really rubbed me the wrong way. this assumption that Neve has no complicated feelings about her gender or being a woman (which i highly doubt considering the world she lives in & how misogynistic it is) and the implication from Taash that she only dresses the way she does for her mother/other people (which Neve doesn't even get to challenge) is extremely narrow-minded. Taash is the Only character that acknowledges gender; so far, even when flirting with other characters, it's only been Taash that i've been allowed to specify with that my rook is trans, despite Taash already knowing that from our previous conversation (i hope that this changes once i lock in with a specific character so feel free to correct me if it does).

but no one else really seems to have an opinion except that Neve drags Taash around to meet Maevaris, and we get the very goofy note that's just a list of modern gender identities and their definitions. i do partly sympathize with the writers here; again i've had to find a way to incorporate lgbt identities in my own writing and it can be difficult depending on your audience. i understand wanting to be very clear and concise. but this is... just goofy. and this desperation to be so correct around gender while simultaneously writing such an offensively racist narrative is really frustrating.

there's also an inconsistency that comes from this with Taash's character-- they are portrayed as this rough but awkward character that is bossed around by their mother, they are bashful with flirting early on and are almost child-like in comparison to the other characters. and then suddenly you get a scene with them where they very directly ask if you want to have sex and suddenly pin you against the wall. this scene was so jarring to me i referred to it as a jumpscare because WHERE has this character been this entire time? i want to see more of this, more of this character who takes what they want and knows exactly who they are (which they even say multiple times when you first meet them... but then need Neve and Rook to hold their hand about it?)

i do really like Taash, i like the idea of them, of this very self-assured and almost cocky character who is also a little silly, this person who is so sure of who they are but has to deal with their mother undermining them while also navigating a culture they feel disconnected from, and i also like that the player can help them through it... but the execution is awful, shallow, and racist. the idea that someone can only choose One culture is so offensive and also a laughable conclusion when compared to their coming out as nonbinary. the writer clearly understands that people don't exist within these little boxes when it comes to gender, but can't wrap their head around it when it comes to someone's culture-- which is also a very important part of a person's identity and often contributes directly to their gender and how they feel about it. all of these different characters have different experiences, come from different places, Davrin and Bellara are Dalish and even have differing opinions on what that means for themselves, but the game doesn't touch on any of it. all we get is a lecture from the writer that is completely removed from the world it's presented in.

i wish i could understand what it was this character was meant to convey. i stand by saying that it doesn't need to be perfect; i know there are people that had problems with Krem in inquisition, but at least Krem was his own person. Taash doesn't even get that here... i harp a lot about character agency when i give writing advice on my other blog but it really is so so so important for marginalized characters-- both gay, trans, and especially characters of color-- to have their own agency around their identities that is completely separate from the player & player choice, that allows them to exist as their own person within the world you've created, and i think Taash's character and story is an unfortunate example of exactly what not to do.

[ckret2]

Are THEY in universe considered as dreamy and handsome as apparently tumblr users find THEM? If yes, does that have anything to do with how THEY won THEIR elections

VENDOR doesn't strike me as the type of person who feels beautiful or attractive; so I doubt THEY've received much of that kind of attention.

To organics, it probably depends on how much the viewer likes the aesthetics of 1950s kitchen appliances with woodgrain. But they still see THEM like an appliance. So THEIR visual appeal generally caps out at "would buy THEM for the break room; wouldn't invite THEM to the bedroom."

To other machines... I'm going by what's frequently portrayed as attractive in transformers fandom: and unfortunately, THEY've got no real points of articulation; no interesting function-related kibble (no tires, no wings, no treads); very few lights at all; lots of unpainted components in a utilitarian way... Plus I feel like most robots wouldn't be into woodgrain, y'know? It's quirky, but "sticking a banana sticker to your forehead" quirky, not "stylishly avant-garde" quirky.

THEY're probably some people's type (THEY're apparently some tumblr users' type), but not many people's type.

I see THEM as like, equivalent to a middle-aged woman who wears just enough makeup to be considered "acceptable" but has never taken pleasure in the process, and has always worn serious business suits with skirts or button-up shirts with slacks in order to be taken seriously, and keeps trying diets that never stick and whenever she vents about this to her friends they awkwardly reassure her that dieting is hard and it's fine when really she's longing to hear someone say "but you already look great" and feel like they aren't just saying it to be nice; and now she's past her prettiest youthful years but has realized she's never been made to feel beautiful, never made herself feel beautiful, and she's a serious businesswoman so she tells herself that that's frivolous and she shouldn't care but she does care, and it's not shallow vanity to care, because all these years of not caring is a side-effect of viewing her body with an air of disdain and resentment for not being good enough and not being worth the effort to make it good enough; and so she buys a paisley shirt with bright green flowers that she thinks looks outrageous but actually really likes and hopes it will be the start of finally figuring out her style, and aside from the print it's still a respectful button up so surely it's professional enough to wear to work, and all her coworkers are like "wowww, that's... different" and she doesn't know if it's because the shirt's really that ugly on her or if they just aren't used to seeing her as the kind of person who can wear these shirts, when the truth is, they can just tell how deeply uncomfortable she is in this shirt, she doesn't know how to wear clothing she likes without being hyper self-conscious. She doesn't know how to make herself feel beautiful. But she wants to.

And that's why VENDOR got woodgrain paneling.

[hellsitedotcom]

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

*·˚ FIRST KISS HEADCANONS : SUNDAY *·˚

Yeah, Sunday escalated a little, which is why he was moved to this post, lol. That's...kinda throwing off my initial plan for these posts. Anyways, bone app the teeth??

*·˚ warnings/info: well, there's obviously going to be mentions of kissing; reader implied to be shorter than Sunday. *·˚ english isn't my native language!

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

⭒˚｡⋆ Sunday ⭒˚｡⋆

⇢ Sunday the kinda guy to have his first kiss after an old-fashioned date or something. I mean, my characterizations of everyone keep changing more extremely than the weather in Germany, but yeah, bare with me for the current one. ⇢ Spending time with Sunday (and sometimes Robin) was almost like an everyday occurrence to you. You were...friends? Well, you certainly were close. It wasn't unusual for you to be alone with him, have long conversations about nothing and everything, go out to get dinner with him. ⇢ And you didn't expect today to look any different when he invited you over to spend time with him at his place, thinking he just needed some company in Robin's absence. After all, you were close, and that's what people who got along with each other did - spend time together. ⇢ But, as you spent time with him, laughing over anything you found funny enough, you felt the energy between you was...different than usual. Sometimes you caught Sunday looking at you a little longer than usual, physical touch lingering, and eventually, you found yourself standing beside him on a balcony, overlooking the Morning Dew Dreamscape, your meeting slowly coming to an end.

''I don't think I'll ever get over this view,'' you sighed, leaning against the railing as you watched Morning Dew's sunrise. You had been to a handful of different Dreamscapes, but nothing could ever compare to those that shared the beauty of the morning sun with you. Beside you, Sunday chuckled softly, his shoulder almost brushing yours as he joined you, ''Well, maybe there's a beautiful sunrise somewhere out there just waiting for you to finally witness it.'' ''I have to find a way off this place first, no?'' you quipped, glancing over at him, ''And I guess I can't really do that until Robin returns. Can't just leave you alone, can I?'' When your eyes met his, you found that Sunday had already been looking at you, a gentle expression on his face. ''Well, I'm glad you're still around,'' he muttered quietly, his smile making you flustered, ''I don't think there's anyone whose company I enjoy more.'' ''Yeah? Huh, I don't think Robin would want to hear that,'' you joked, your voice softer than before, almost hesitant. The atmosphere around you was changing, the innocence of the early morning hours suddenly filled with another emotion, one you couldn't name just yet. Sunday just laughed at your response, turning to face the sun, ''I doubt she'd be surprised.'' ''I'm sure she realized it long before I did,'' he continued, catching you slightly off-guard. With a perplexed expression, you just stared at him, repeating his words in your head. You knew that Sunday considered you someone he shared a close relationship with - otherwise, you wouldn't be here right now - but it still made your heart skip a beat to hear him voice it all so openly. In the pale morning light, you found yourself entranced by him, watching the way the soft rays danced across his face, making his golden eyes shine even brighter than you had ever seen. His words kept repeating in your head, quietly, like a choir as your mind went through all the possible meanings behind the simple sentence. ''I hope she doesn't mind that I'm her brother's favorite,'' you finally spoke again, sounding far more off than you had expected, making Sunday turn to meet your gaze. He was smiling, a mixture of amusement and endearment on his face, ''She knew that it was bound to happen.'' ''Besides,'' he added, turning around to fully face you, ''I care about the two of you in very different ways. Robin is my sister, my family. And I love her the way you love your own blood.'' A heartbeat of silence. The world around you seemed to slow down, the ambiance noise as if muted while Sunday continued his speech, ''While my feelings for you and my sister aren't...that unalike, there is an important distinction. I feel familial love for Robin, while I feel something much deeper for you.'' The beating inside your chest made you think your heart was about to break out of your rib cage, and you didn't even realize that you had stopped breathing, unable to break eye contact as you stared at the man, straightening up while trying to process his words. Neither of you was saying anything right now. You were both just looking at each other, the atmosphere completely changed. Sunday seemed as if he was expecting an answer, but your mind was racing in overdrive, unable to form coherent thoughts. And, while Sunday was starting to grow slightly nervous given your...lack of response to his ''confession'', something inside you just- switched. The words came out of your mouth before you could stop them, catching not just you, but also the man off-guard. ''May I kiss you?'' Another heartbeat of silence. Then, a soft chuckle, relief flooding Sunday's expression, ''You may.'' And you did, leaning forward, the nervousness terrorizing you as your lips met his in a soft, brief kiss before you pulled away again, your hands shaking slightly.

You were about to say something, comment on...everything that had been said and done today, but before you could come to word, Sunday cut you off with another kiss, this one longer, deeper, and as you stood there in the light of the early morning sun, you found yourself hoping the moment would never pass.

Sunday held you close after that, his forehead resting against yours as you just stood there, allowing the rays of sunlight to engulf you, the pale golden hue like a sign that you had made the right choice, that you had found the right one.

For the longest time, neither of you wanted to leave, lost in the other's embrace until Sunday slowly pulled away, a sigh escaping his lips, ''I fear I probably have to get back to work.''

''I- I know,'' you muttered, looking up at him, ''Just...a few more minutes? Is that alright? I just...I don't want you to leave yet.'' Your voice was quiet, almost fragile. You couldn't remember the last time you sounded this vulnerable.

And Sunday noticed, eyes widening momentarily before he began to smile, grabbing your chin to tilt your head up and place another brief kiss to your lips, ''Just a few more minutes, then I'll have to get back. But you're welcome to stay with me if you want.''

[mr-ys-phantasma]

🌙 Moon Phases 🌙

Agatha Harkness X Fem!reader

Word Count: 1493

Chapter 35:

Jen helped keep Lilia focused on the present and not let her mind wander or get distracted by anything that might slow them down.

Those swords were still hanging above, and everyone doubted would remain there if you kept losing time.

As if the room had heard your thoughts, the ceiling slowly started to go down; bringing the swords closer and closer to you.

"We didn't even put any cards down!" Agatha shouted, glaring at practically anything.

The road was starting to get on her nerves.

"Maybe no cards are as bad as the wrong ones." Billy suggested.

You looked at Lilia again, who seemed for a moment to be lost somewhere else; her mid wandering off to a different memory of the past.

You grabbed both her shoulders and shook her faintly. "Lilia! Focus on me!" You shouted, trying to bring her back to the present. You were not sure what was going on, but now it was neither the time nor the place to question her. "We need your Tarot Expertise"

Wasting no time, Lilia walked towards the table; her eyes immediately falling on the cards both Billy and Agatha had put down.

"Who massacred this spread?" The old witch questioned, making the two culprits point a finger at one another.

You held back a chuckle at the scene, and if you were not racing against time to avoid impalement; you would have definitely enjoyed the moment more.

But alas, your time was ticking, and there wasn't exactly any true indication of how long you had before the trial was over.

"Who's the querent?" Lilia asked next, looking at her coven.

Billy looked around at the women for a moment. "You mean the subject? Me. I guess I'm the queer-ent." He was amused by his own bad joke, but the smile disappeared as quick as it came the moment you slapped the back of his head.

He turned to look at you, one hand placed against the spot you had smacked him; lips parted in a theatrical hurtful expression.

"Now it's not the time for pun jokes," you reminded him, surprising the teenager with the fact that you knew what a pun was in the first place. "Just get your reading so we can get out of here,"

You almost pushed him towards one of the chairs and forced him to sit, as Lilia took the seat across and grabbed the deck before passing it to him.

"The querent shuffles and cuts." She informed as the coven gathered around.

Agatha rolled her eyes. "Lilia, we don't have time for this."

"Shuffles and cuts," she repeated stubbornly. Billy immediately obliged. "Now, please ask your question."

Of course, nothing could go smoothly as Jen and Agatha started to argue again; honestly making you wonder if they also had some sort of former romantic relationship.

Their arguments were not helping with the situation, pressuring Billy more and taking time from the reading.

The two witches continued and dragged Lilia with as tried to defend the rules of the Tarot to Agatha; who clearly had no respect for this particular witchy art.

It was only you who noticed the swords coming down once again, the roof slowly approaching as your end was getting nearer and nearer with each passing second.

"Ladies," you called then out, hoping to stop them while refusing to take your eyes off the swords; fearing if you did, one would kill you in the next second. "Ladies!" You called louder, hoping to be heard above their arguing and the mechanism pulling down the sword covered roof.

Billy was watching all this time, seeing the swords coming down and no one able to help; cause this was on him. At that moment of thrill and worry, at the face of certain death; he dared to ask the one question he had deep within his heart.

The very same question he feared to even think feared to get any answers to.

"Am I William, or am I Billy?" He asked, practically shouting above the noise.

"That's a very good question," Lilia said with a gentle smile, knowing in most detail of his feelings on the topic; considering he did take over the body ofna dead boy and pretended to be someone else's son. "This is the Safe Passage spread," she continued explaining and pulled out the first card. "The first card is you, the Traveller. Next comes What's Missing, the reason for your quest. Here is the Path Behind, wounds suffered, lessons learned. Here is the Path Ahead, a space for growth and discovery. Of course, you will face obstacles preceding a potential windfall. Uou must overcome all to reach your destination."

As Llia explained each card placement on the spread and what would represent depending on the card, Jen, you, and even Agatha were listening intensely; equally drawn by Lilia's words.

Jen was the first to notice that Agatha was actually paying attention for once and did not seem ready to comment, which was odd for her.

"What, no snide remarks?" Jen teased, always in the mood to try and rub some salt on Agatha's wounds and prove her wrong.

Of course, Agatha was not going to make it any easier for her. She kept her chin up. "Made sense to me."

You rolled your eyes, cleared your throat, and moved to stand between the two women. "If you two are done. Time is ticking, and this is Billy's reading, not yours. "

Being called out like that and realizing you were making a valid point, they just mumbled under their breaths, but the two witches did not dare to continue their little quarell.

You looked at Lilia, who nodded faintly in appreciation for stopping the noisy duo from interrupting any further. You replied with a head nod of your own, though you could still not shKs the feeling that something was off.

The Tarot Cards were definitely Lilia's trial, and yet the questions were about Billy's Path. It just didn't click right in your mind, simply because this was not how the trials worked.

Each trial circled around a deep fear for each member, a fear they had to face, and a challenge that needed to be overcome as a coven.

So, if it was Lilia's trial, why was there nothing about her journey in the cards? Why the sudden focus on Billy?

While you were contemplating those questions in your mind, Lilia proceeded to draw two cards for Billy; the Magician and the Sun.

Yet both those cards did not seem to please the trial, for the swords changed and one landed top close to Jen; causing her to grab your upper arm subconsciously as she moved more into your personal space.

That was not something that Agatha liked, evident by her hard glare towards the Potions Witch; envy and jealousy flashing in her blue eyes... when she noticed.

The swords shaking and as she dared to focus on one, she saw it detaching from whatever invisible string was held; heading straight for Lilia.

In a surprising act of selflessness, Agatha tackled Lilia off the chair and to the ground; just as the sword pierced her chair.

An involuntary gasp left your lips, and your hands covered your mouth, eyes wide at the near death experience that you just witnessed. If Agatha had been a second slower or if she hadn't managed to push Lilia down with the first try...

You shook your head, trying not to think about the outcome.

Instead, you simply stood there and watched as Agatha was forced off; Lilia clearly fought her despite the magicless witch trying to explain that she had just saved her life.

Once both women were up again, you passed a hand over your hair; having almost forgotten the odd but rather unique crown of ice on your head.

"Something we did was wrong... there is no other explanation, " you commented, trying to ease your beating heart.

Jen looked at you. "Yeah, but what are we doing wrong?!" She asked, her tone elevated as she was getting equally stressed. "We followed damn Tarot Rules, Lilia doing the reading as is her trial. So what do we do wrong?"

Jen's words seemed to trigger something within Lilia's mind as she started to realise everything. Her time slips, the random flashes she would get a those years... it all slowly started to make sense.

And she finally had an answer.

"Because he is not the Querent," she suddenly said as she sat at the edge of the chair; unbothered by the sword that had almost impaled her and made her one Vlad the Impaler victims. "I am. This is my reading"

And with those words, she stopped shuffling and cut. Her fingers touched the first card, and her mind's eye immediately got a time flash; the name of the card was known to her before she even turned it.

"The Queen of Cups"

Chapter 36

[evolnoomym]

Birds of a Feather 🌙☀️

General Masterlist | Joel Miller Masterlist | Support me |

Summary: A peek into the future.

Rating: 18+ mature content mdni!!!!

Word count: 0.8 k

Authors note: First of all Happy Birthday to my Wife @joelmillerisapunk and myself, I love you so much Sunshine (we are literally Scorpio twins) 🫶🏻 This was supposed to be something else, a whole multi-chapter Fic based around this couple (which I still plan on writing) but as you know my life kinda changed completely so I was busy with taking care of that instead. I hope y’all like this little gift I’ve prepared.

Warnings: no use of y/n, Female reader, Female OC, FFM, beautiful domestic vibes, getting married, implied age-gap, cock lol, throuple,

Shoutout to @saradika @strangergraphics and @steddiecameraroll-graphics 💛

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so if you come across mistakes it might be due to that. You are always welcome to talk with me about my writing. In general I appreciate comments, likes and reblogs greatly. 🫶🏻

If someone would’ve told you that your future is gonna look like this you would’ve never believed it. So full of love, happiness and joy, exactly what you deserve after all these painful years. You finally get to wake up and be happy about it. Free of the past that kept dragging you down into the abyss. Meeting Sunny changed everything, you spend hours day after day talking to her and never once getting tired of each other. Love at first sight. Within months the decision was made to leave everything behind, runaway and move in with her.

It may seem rushed to others, but not once since then did you regret leaving. Sunny and you quickly fell into a blissful domestic routine, waking up together in bed, making breakfast for each other, cleaning the house like maniacs together and let’s not forget about those countless trips to Costco while listening to music you both loved. Movie nights cuddled up on the couch, tending to the vegetable garden in the backyard and all the dates Sunny planned, showing off the beautiful hidden spots of her town.

Of course one day the topic of getting married came up and it wasn’t surprising that the both of you had similar dreams, tying the knot in Italy. A month after that conversation Sunny got down on one knee and popped the question, which of course you immediately said yes to. A couple weeks after she slipped that moon shaped diamond down your finger it was time to walk down the aisle. It was a small ceremony. One of the best days in your life, one you won’t ever forget. The day you married the love of your life.

A year has since passed and if someone, again, would’ve told you that it will get even better you would have not believed it.

Life was already pretty perfect, but then you met Joel Miller that fateful night, 6 months ago, at the local bar. Sunny and you had talked about sharing someone but the opportunity never came. Joel however was different from those other guys, his interest was not driven by perversion, no, he was genuine and respectful. A mature man who knows what it takes to make a gal happy. Broad shoulders, strong arms, the sweetest brown eyes and luscious brown locks streaked with grey.

In the beginning you felt like a traitor for feeling the way you did about Joel.

Sunny ever the Angel reassured you each time that you are not a bad person for loving more than one person, after all she loved him too.

Those doubts feel silly now as you stand in the kitchen of the house you three share. Glancing out of the big window above the countertop you can see Sunny in the garden outstretched on a big blanket. She’s soaking up the last rays of sunlight and the golden hues make her look so angelic. It’s November 10th, her birthday and yours too.

You quietly step out onto the porch, tiptoeing over to her, she seems to sense your presence and opens her eyes. “Hii Babygirl,” Sunny’s sweet voice greets you. As you sink down to your knees, she sits up on her knees and slides her arms around your waist. “What did you do inside?” Sunny asks after pressing her soft lips on yours. “I cleaned the kitchen,” you try to lean in for another kiss “Wait I already cleaned the kitchen this morning,” Sunny pulls back and tilts her head questioning “are you okay Baby?” She knows you so well. “Yeah I’m just nervous, do you think he has something planned for us?”

Sunny chuckles “I sure hope he does or else he won’t get his cock sucked tonight,” her boldness still makes you blush furiously “ awww Baby no need to get shy, it’s okay I know you love that cock.” She smirks and you can only nod bashful.

“Yes, but shouldn’t he do something to us?” You pout your lips and Sunny takes the opportunity to kiss you again. She strokes through your hair gently “He will definitely do something to us, but that gift you want probably the most has to wait for a little longer.”

“I know, maybe we can give him that for his birthday?” You suggest in a giddy tone.

“Would it really be a surprise if he’s actively involved in making that gift?” She retorts.

“No, but you know what I mean.”

“Yes I do, let’s talk about it with him okay sweet cheeks?” You nod.

Sunny’s attention is pulled to something behind you “Speaking of the devil,” Sunny smiles and points to something behind you.

When you whip around you see Joel with two huge bouquets in his arms, a big smile on his face and even after he’s worked a hard shift he still looks breathtakingly handsome. And when he opens his mouth to bless your ears with his deep Texas drawl you are immediately put at ease.

“There are my two pretty girls, now who’s ready for a Birthday Party?”

Friends: @beefrobeefcal @pedrospatch @penvisions @tightjeansjavi @aurorawritestoescape @milla-frenchy @strang3lov3 @guiltyasdave @xdaddysprincessxx @mountainsandmayhem @mrsmando @iamasaddie @syd-djarin @msjarvis @mermaidgirl30 @noxturnalnymph @sizzlingcloudmentality @the-mandawhor1an @yorksgirl @sin-djarin @thundermartini @clawdee @almostfoxglove @ace-turned-confused @always-andromeda @sawymredfox @morallyinept @ovaryacted @toxicanonymity @luxurychristmaspudding @rivnedell @moonlitbirdie @zloshy @sixhours @merz-8 @punkshort @beardedjoel @sp00kymulderr @joelslegalwhre @baronessvonglitter @tonysopranosrobe @pedropeach @ozarkthedog @joelsdagger @whocaresstillthelouvre @littlemisspascal

©️ evolnoomym 2024. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

[liquidorcard]

HEY Y'ALL IT'S MIKAILER WITH AN "ER" WHY IS THAT SO HARD TO GRASP!?

---

Did I get your attention, Mikaila? I hope so, let's see.

Mikaila, I don't like you. You've done shit that's soured my opinion of you. I'm acknowledging that now to get that out of the way. I'm not here to be two-faced about this or blow smoke up your ass.

But as one idiot who stayed in a toxic relationship to another-- I'm not making fun of you because I think I'm better. I know. Being in a relationship like that brings out some ugly shit. You resent and fear people will never forgive you. You don't know if you will forgive yourself. I'm not making fun of you because I think I'm better than you.

And it feels kinda good, being treated badly? In a weird way? When you're used to it? When you feel you kind of deserve it? It did for me too. My abuser did some fucked up shit to me. I don't know how to describe to you the strange feelings I'm left with now. Sometimes I think I finally hate her, sometimes, as pathetic as it makes me feel, I still miss her. It's a rot in you that never really goes away, but you learn to live with it. I understand that agony. I understand that anger of how fucking unfair it is.

You know my opinion of Lily. You're not going to trust me that I'm not saying all this just to get you two to break up to hurt her. Fair. Very fair, not going to pretend like it's not. But if Lily loves you, nothing I'm about to say should be an issue. She should want what's best for you, right?

Here's the rub Mikaila, it's been a few years now. I know you want out of your situation at home, but it doesn't seem like Lily's going to be able to help you with that at this point. I'm sure Lily's given you plenty of reasons as to why, and it's time to listen to her.

If you're heart's set on coming to Canada, your best bet is getting a job here. Or even, going to school. Art degrees (Here in Canada) aren't as expensive, provided you go to the right school. Even taking out a student loan for just one year to figure your shit out. I know you're in quite a bit of debt right now and don't want to get into more, but. You gotta do what you gotta do.

Here's the college I went to. Yes, your work is sufficient to potentially get admitted. Believe it or not, art school's get that illustration is a learned skill. Artists start from all different levels:

Look through the admissions requirements to see if you have the academic records to be admitted. If not, you could also consider upgrading through online classes aswell.

Again though, your best bet is to try to find employment. The cost of living isn't great here right now, but it isn't great anywhere. I doubt you'll be able to find cheaper rent in America.

Once you're here or wherever you end up, away from the chaos of your home, you might find it a lot easier to get your head around, establishing some better independence and becoming a citizen by yourself. It's a shitty process, but not as bad as the one you guys have in the States. We stan an immigrant here.

You need to look out for you, Mikaila. It's not selfish. It's not a matter of whether you "really deserve it or not." Nobody's going to save you. You're emotionally spent because of your parents, You're emotionally spent because of Lily. And it feels kind of nice how much Lily needs you. But you can't help her until you help yourself - and again, if we're all wrong and Lily really loves you, she shouldn't have a problem with you finding your way.

My own mother once told me I was "born sad." I've never not hated myself. I ate up any little bit of love and validation no matter how many bitter, razor pills that came with it too. That's just how it is for some of us.

But you know what Mikaila? Fuck em. Fuck all of them. Fuck everything. Fuck me, Mikaila. You've got one life. One body. One you. Whatever you think of her, someone's gotta fight for that poor bitch. Why not you fight for you?

Everyone's a stinky meat bag stripped down, Mikaila. Everyone's made a fool in the wake of the shit people like you and I have been through. Not everyone's going to be able to forgive everything, but everyone's not wholly past forgiveness.

I'm no better than you Mikaila. Nobody is. Some of us just get to know the worst sides of ourselves better than others.

I don't like some of the things you've done, girl. But I see you. I get it. Tell us all to eat shit. Fix your life. Don't rely on Lily to make you feel whole or to save you. To make you feel worthy. No person can do that. She could be the reincarnation of Mary Mother of God herself, and you couldn't expect that from her. Be your own advocate. If your relationship isn't toxic, it can survive you becoming a more whole you.

This asshole is rooting for you. Give me an excuse to undoomer "Mikailer." My girl needs a win.

[nutcoffin]

I would like to call out and formally ask miss @shittyzinkoo to stop tracing other peoples art. And not just for a certain amount of time. Stop it for good.

What am I talking about, you may ask?

Well a few months ago i have found her youtube account because of her kinitopet animations. It was all fine untill I looked into her community posts, where she has been tracing the following artists:

@sin-simps (on tumblr)

Original:______________________________________

Traced/copied:_________________________________

//Note: These have been deleted since, because Sin-Simps talked to her about it(as long as I know). Although this doesn't change the fact it's happened.//

@Scarletwaltz (on tik tok)

Original:______________________________________

Traced/copied:_________________________________

//Note: It's still up on her youtube account.//

@nutcoffin (me on tumblr)

Original:______________________________________

Traced/copied:_________________________________

//Note: The only reason I added the second picture, is because of the same KinitopetAU name that I have. I give the benefite of the doubt though, that its a coincidence. At least I hope so.//

In my case, the one that was on pinterest has been also deleted for my request since:

//Note: She answered that she already deleted it a long time ago, I just couldn't screenshot properly the chat so her answer can be seen//

To be honest it's already a scumy thing to trace a drawing that was made for someone as an answer for a submission-

BUT AFTER A MONTH SHE UPLOADED IT AGAIN

At least I believe so, because I was browsing on pinterest a few days ago and I have found it again without searching for her account or opening a link for the post. The only difference was that the comments were locked so I couldn't wrote that "Hey, this is traced!" in there as I did before.

I have to say I wasn't so nice the second time -

//Note: After a few minutes of my response, this also have been deleted.//

And I would like to apologise for this. I wrote to you in anger and because of that I was rude, but you have to understand that it's not okay to steal other peoples art. Tracing is stealing. Even if it's just a stupid little doodle. You can draw just fine without it, believe me.

For the end I would like to inform you that from now on every time you repeat this with anyone's drawing, your work will be reported. Doesn't matter what platform do you use or if you block this account of mine.

Thank you for reading.

[angrygirlromero]

BASTARD LOVE, PROLOGUE

WARNING: grammar mistakes, violence, suggestive content! MDNI

Demitra Lyninxic was no fool, she knew despite being claimed by the goddess Hera that she was no child of her's, not because of her behavior towards the young demigod, but rather because of the power that coursed through her veins, deep down she could feel the storm brewing inside her and when it came no one not even her mother, the goddess of marriage would be able to calm it.

She knew her father had failed to take notice of her being, yet he had taken care of his sweet Thalia, but when Demitra had arrived at camp with hundreds of monsters on her tail, while almost being killed at the border Zeus stood by and watched yet he did nothing, as if she wasn't his own blood, but as Luke had always said "no one could force the gods to do anything", most especially take responsibility for their children.

But she was tired of being in her so called mother's shadow, the other gods turning a blind eye to her being due to Hera's fondness for the girl, and Demitra played the part of the dutiful daughter of Hera becoming the maternal figure at camp, every single camper looked up at her for guidance what seemed like a blessing from the gods would someday be a curse to them.

She pretended not knowing that her beloved mother Hera had been the one to leave her an orphan being the one to take her mothers life out of jealousy and spite of her husband, what seemed like devotion and pure love from afar deep down was resentment and hatred up close, no one would ever notice, except for him, he saw straight threw her, from the moment he had met her all those years ago in the Hermes cabin, a scared girl who had been abandoned and been thrown to the Wolfes, Luke saw the same darkness he saw in himself in her.

Demitra sat alone in the woods a small fire burning in-front of her as she sat with a blank look upon her beautiful features, the young girl took her time to pick up her plate where a slice of chocolate cake sat perfectly waiting to be eaten, yet instead of eating the delicious pastry Demitra leaned forward raking the pastry into the fire where the flames soon consumed it.

"It's my birthday today." stated the girl as she stared deep into the fire "I doubt you even know that, or care but I turned sixteen today, it's been fifteen years since she passed, I doubt you even remember her name or what she looked like" said Demitra as a tear slipped down her right cheek, "I don't think she would be proud of me, because I know you aren't, cause if you were you'd acknowledge me. I- I just hope one day you'll be proud of me, either way I'm sorry for bothering you father" said Demitra with a broken voice.

Her head hang low in shame at her actions she did this every year, knowing deep down that she would get no response but maybe this year would be different she thought, the curse of hope that haunted her as a mortal was her enemy, it always would be what haunted her.

"Deep down he is proud of you" said a deep voice from in front of her, Demitra quickly raised her head to lock eyes with the figure before her, Demitra thought she was losing her mind at the god before her, there stood the almighty Ares, the god of war, the protector of women, with his arms crossed as he stared at the demigod before him.

"You are as beautiful as mother claims, sister" stated Ares, to which Demitra frowned with her lips parted, "a beautiful woman should never have to cry to gain a mans affections" stated Ares bending down to his sister's level taking his hand under her chin then whipping the tears from her cheeks, "Our father isn't worth it, you should know that by now" he said.

"Why have you come to me?" asked out Demitra in a soft voice to which Ares smiled, "I have been watching you for a while sister, I admire your actions and I am grateful to you for caring for my children." explained Ares, "They speak of you frequently you see, and my daughter Clarisse believes that you are destined for greatness" he said.

"Me? destined for greatness? is unlikely" said Demitra with a sad voice "Do you know why our father treats you the way he does?" asked Ares to which Demitra shook her head, "Some years ago there was a prophecy told to the gods, one stating that the children of Zeus, Poseidon and Hades would soon rise up and rebel against them it is why the pact of the forbidden children was made" said Ares but of course everyone knew that story, but why would he care so deeply for Thalia yet turn a blind eye to her?

"But then the oracle went on and told each one of them about their children, Zeus would have three forbidden children, bastards, one would be ungrateful, blind to his affections, and despise what they are, another would be destined for greatness and glory but would have a tragic story, and the last one would be the most powerful demigod to every live, that child was said to despise him and challenge him." said Ares "Father fears which one you would be and mother thinks that you are destined to be the second one."

"I am no great warrior, I have no glory, all I've done is teach and care for the children here, and I can not be blind of affections I do not receive" said Demitra firmly staring at her brother, to which Ares smiled tilting his head at her in curiosity, "I believe other wise" he stated, "Everyday you manage to teach half of the children here something new, they adore you and worship the ground you walk upon, it's more of a blessing than a curse sister. Use that adoration to your advantage" suggested Ares before stepping back preparing himself to leave.

"Why come to me now?" asked Demitra with confusion consuming her beautiful features "Because you're time is coming soon, and when it comes I want to be by your side" said her brother with a soft smile, yet he only provoked even further confusion in the young demigod, "And keep that Hermes boy close, he's quite infatuated with you sister" Said Ares with a smirk before he glowed a bright gold and faded into thin air.

After he faded into golden specs from where he once stood fell a small piece of parchment and with it was a Ipomoea both light objects taking a while to fall to the ground at Demitra's feet, the young demigod picked up the the piece of parchment with a unsure look upon her face, afraid to touch the flower she read the note first.

— To my dearest Demitra, happy birthday my sweet girl I was not allowed to visit you this year but I will see you again very soon little one, in my place I have sent your brother I hope he keep his manners with you. I have sent you a gift it is a morning glory my sweet it will grant you great things in time of need, it is a representation of my love for you it will never fade.

Mother —

[aruanimess]

Round three, of me endlessly yapping on Reverse AU. I am still VERY new to this.. tumblr asking, notes and whatnot, so.. I apologise if I seem somewhat annoying and bothersome Anyway, less 'bout me, more on blondes! I'm going to try spitballing a few ideas there and there, because I don't have ONE big topic/arc to really focus on, so here we go!

1; Armin being captured after his identity is figured out. There are.. three way's of this going, in my opinion. >First, being that they managed to successfully take him down into the tunnels to capture him, possibly after some convincing by Annie, since he trusts her a lot? (Plus, if Armin sticks around to around S3 when they're all in that Cabin, hiding away from the Military Police and all. I think Annie and Armin would be.. somewhat awkward, between each other. Since, she cares for him, a lot and.. betrayed him.) >Second, same scene where his identity is discovered and remains at the top of the staircase, but more or less breaks down because he doesn't know what is right anymore, he cares for his new found friends, the thought of betraying them crushes his heart, so he gives up and surrenders peacefully. >Third, transforms and makes a run for the walls to dip, which could ALSO go multiple ways, but.. I don't really have much on that. 2; Warriors Reveal, though Armin is now in the midst of it. I cannot see Armin ever betraying Paradis Island and trying to capture Eren (a second time, mind you), now that Reiner decided to reveal their identites to the same bloke he tried capturing too - yikes. Armin could very well try making them surrender, in a subtle way so the situation doesn't escalate, nor turn his own comrades against him. So, he tricks them and everyone. Transforming along the other two to capture Eren, only to fight Reiner along with Eren but obviously ending in failure with Bert's Titan crushing them. On one hand, I think Bert would try getting Armin, though Reiner is too focused on the mission, he ditches Armin and makes a run for it.

3; Armin still gets captured by the Opaki, though he saves Annie from being the one to be captured by it. As fun and simple it would be if she was the one to be yoinked, so they couldn't use the power of the Colossal and rescue her, I decided to go differently with this. While Armin does end up getting captured, he isn't terrified that he can't protect his people, that they need him, without him he'll die. No, he's accepting his fate. They have Annie, they can still blow up the Doomsday Titan and they'll all be fine, he may die but will die at least doing something right for them, finally doing something useful after betraying his friends, and putting his life down on the line, as their Commander.

(I also agree he'd still be the next Commander that Hange would put the title upon, so.. it sorta means a lot, like he finally is one of them in some way? - I dunno, spitballing!) But, ahaa.. Yeah, that isn't happening. Annie is not letting that blonde go, despite they have a clear winning shot here, she is not about to let him die. Not now, there is still more to be said to him, with how she feels. So, the mission of saving Armin is once more! AND, to end it off, I like to think he'd still be suicidal and jump for the Parasite to hold it down along with Reiner, even if there's a chance of him dying from the Colossal's explosion.

I apologise having to read this entire shit-show of ideas in your inbox, I doubt I'll do more to not seem too big of a yapper, but we'll see! I hope everything is going well for you, have a wonderful day/night! Now, I depart. Toodles!

Hello, Rux!!

Please, never apologize for sending an ask! I absolutely love hearing your ideas and I’m very happy to know the reverse AU still resonates with people :D

Okay, now let’s see:

1. I do prefer the second scenario in the staircase scene. Armin at this point has nothing waiting for him back in Marley and as a character he generally prefers ending conflicts with talking rather than fighting so I believe he’d rather strike a deal and resolve this through diplomacy. 

2. Now for the Warriors reveal… we do have to consider that this scene occurs very soon after Armin’s own reveal. Like it’s all happening within three days tops. There’s always the possibility that he’s too busy getting interrogated within an inch of his life to even attend these events. 

Personally, I’m more curious as to whether Reiner and Bertolt would attempt to convince Zeke to launch an operation to “rescue” Armin at that point, or write him off as a lost cause. I think there’s potential for drama and bitterness in both cases. In the first scenario, you have a Reiner who fought to save Armin getting betrayed by someone he considered his friend, while in the second scenario, you have an Armin even more estranged by his peers in Marley, sad and disappointed they never even cared for him. 

3. Here you’re gonna have to forgive me, because I respectfully disagree.

While Armin and Annie would absolutely act the way you described in the event of Armin getting captured by the Okapi Titan, I don’t see why the Founder Ymir would bother to kidnap him. In canon, she only does so because he’s the Colossus and is the only one with the power to stop Eren. So I’m afraid that our girl Annie would have to be the one getting choked by that tongue… (well that was a sentence I’d never thought I’d write xD)

As for the Commander part… I don’t know. On one hand, I do see how meaningful such a gesture would be from Hange, accepting Armin as one of their own wholeheartedly. On the other hand, the idea of an outsider coming in to “save” the Paradisians from their plight and lead them to the truth makes me feel kind of uncomfortable. 

Personally, because I’m a useless bisexual with a one track mind, I’d love to see how Commander Annie could work. At the very least I’d like to consider the possibility of her assuming a leadership role. She’s not an out of the box thinker like Armin in canon, but she is very practical and very decisive when it comes to battle. In another world, raised alongside Eren and Mikasa and not as confined by her father and her circumstances, I can see her developing a keen eye for solutions, maybe not outrageous strategies, but clean simple yet effective and devastating in their consequences plans. She’s ruthless, she’s perceptive and she’s willing to give up her life to achieve her means.

Honestly? I’d love to see it explored.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Steven Beschloss at America, America:

In the last few days, I have received a number of messages from readers who told me they are disengaging. “I am retiring from politics,” one said. “I’m avoiding the news,” said another. And this: “I’m too old for another Trump term and do not want to even see anything political for a long time. Steven, I’ve enjoyed your content, but in order to live to 78 [I’m] going cold turkey on politics.”

I get it. Trump’s emphatic win and Harris’ loss is heartbreaking, especially after all the effort so many of us have made to achieve a different outcome. This defeat is made harder by the awareness of the dark and disturbing days to come with Donald Trump back in the White House. There are many high-profile critics who are wondering about their safety now in a world where Trump fanatics like Steve Bannon echo his leader’s fervor for retribution by promising “rough justice.” It would be a mistake to assume that Trump wasn’t serious with all his violent, vengeance-inciting verbiage. Anyone who assumes the next Attorney General will act with the reluctance and politeness of Merrick Garland toward the ex-president—resulting in his not being held account for inciting a deadly insurrection on Jan. 6—is sorely underestimating Donald Trump’s endless capacity for cruelty, attraction to carnage and hunger to punish anyone who crosses him. But it would be a misfortune if many of us meet the coming months only with fear and reluctance, disengaging from the necessary opposition to Trump’s authoritarian enterprise. That’s what Trump hopes to achieve with his angry, aggressive intimidation.

It’s appalling to see how the billionaires have quickly fallen in line. This arrived yesterday from Washington Post and Amazon owner Jeff Bezos, who spinelessly deep-sixed his newspaper’s endorsement of Kamala Harris: “Big congratulations to our 45th and now 47th President on an extraordinary political comeback and decisive victory,” he posted on what was Twitter. “No nation has bigger opportunities. Wishing Donald Trump all success in leading and uniting the America we all love.” In a normal world, of course, that would read like a warm and magnanimous gesture, not a kowtowing plea from a self-interested businessman who fears the consequences of crossing Trump. And he was not alone.

Meta/Facebook owner Mark Zuckerburg, who’s been threatened with prison by Trump, posted this on his social media site, Threads: “Congratulations to President Trump on a decisive victory. We have great opportunities ahead of us as a country. Looking forward to working with you and your administration.” So again: I get it if you’re feeling utterly discouraged and doubtful if you should stay involved. If the billionaires are rolling over, why should anyone take any risks? That’s understandable, especially in the wake of this awful defeat, and a reason why some of us will choose to disconnect. But I urge you to take to heart the closing words of President Joe Biden yesterday in graciously accepting the election’s outcome: “Setbacks are unavoidable, but giving up is unforgivable…We are going to be OK, but we need to stay engaged.” I also urge you to listen to every word of Kamala Harris’ concession speech Wednesday from Howard University (you can watch it here). I was particularly interested in her guidance as we look forward.

“While I concede this election,” she said, “I do not concede the fight that fueled this campaign—the fight for freedom, for opportunity, for fairness and the dignity of all people. A fight for the ideals at the heart of our nation, the ideals that reflect America at our best. That is a fight I will never give up.” She also talked about not giving up the fight for reproductive freedom, for protecting our schools and streets from gun violence, and for democracy, the rule of law and equal justice. “And we will continue to wage this fight in the voting booth, in the courts and in the public square. And we will also wage it in quieter ways: in how we live our lives by treating one another with kindness and respect, by looking in the face of a stranger and seeing a neighbor, by always using our strength to lift people up, to fight for the dignity that all people deserve.” We will need to hear more thoughts like this as Trump and his enablers drag us through their world of hostility and degradation. The vice president made a particular plea to young people, including students in the audience from Howard, a historically Black university: “To the young people who are watching, it is OK to feel sad and disappointed. But please know it's going to be OK…Don’t ever give up. Don’t ever stop trying to make the world a better place…the fight for our country is always worth it.”

[...] I will not give up the effort to pursue a better, more just, more equal, more democratic, more decent and kind America. It will take plenty of energy and effort to keep clear about what is true and what is false, what is right and wrong, what is normal and what is insane—and to inform myself and you about what’s happening and what we might do about it.

The temptation is there to disengage., but it’s the definitive time to stay in the fight.

[ozcarr]

I remember back when I worked at [shoe store], we got a new hire who had seen my full name on the schedule, identified me as Jewish, and tracked me down. After confirming, the first thing she asked me is if I'd been to Israel on a "birthright" trip (this was 8 years ago, we were both 18 at the time).

I kind of laughed it off and told her, no, I hadn't -- I had no family in Israel, my mom's friend group in collage was primarily Palestinian, and my parents had always taken an objectively anti-isreal stance and didn't sugarcoat things. I remember my parents refused to buy Israeli-made gelt for Hanukkah and always had to painstakingly track down chocolate coins from other countries, which was kind of difficult in the early 2000s before Hanukkah had become commercialized the way it is now.

But I didn't really realize until that moment that because my parents had known better, they'd been able to shield me from all the weird Zionist indoctrination and propaganda and the same was not true of all my peers. Even ones like this girl, who I would find out later loved to posture herself as a radical leftist. You know. Despite the Zionism.

Anyway this girl hounded me for weeks about it -- "it's your birthright, it's free, why wouldn't you want a free vacation?"

I've been thinking about her a lot lately. And the American settlers who want to turn Gaza into their beach front property. And how these people are willing to murder for their little vacations and beachfront homes. Like it's nothing to them.

[cluescorner]

I gave myself a writing challenge and I am fascinated by it

So basically I put the robins in a randomizer to give them a new order/role (because I just...kinda wanted to see what would happen + I like role-reversal AUs) and got results that are giving me a fucking brain blast.

Stephanie, the first sidekick who defines the role

Tim, the sidekick who dies and comes back wrong

Dick, the sidekick who saves Batman from himself

Damian, the sidekick who was never supposed to be a sidekick but would go on to prove everyone wrong

Jason, the youngest sidekick who is still the Kid Wonder

...So this is fucking wild. I've got some ideas and several of these fit perfectly (Dick's role is pretty similar to his one in canon), but some of these are fucking INCREDIBLE to explore (Steph being the first Robin is something I never even considered but tbh I kinda love it).

I probably won't write a fic or anything because tbh I don't like publishing my writing that much, but I might expand this into a full AU and post about it. I might randomize other stuff too (ie, stuff that I cannot change vs stuff that I cannot keep the same) but this fucking rules as a starting point.

[thats-a-lot-of-cortisol]

✨ someone ✨ broke their oath the other night

[aromanticasterisms]

mona nicole and SKIRK in this new update holy shit i'm excited