#i feel like not enough people understand the difference between a good person and a good character like what happened to media literacy

[dammit-tazmuir]

@grievingbovine I am always happy to gush about Paul ;w;

Also I feel like... I'm not sure if it's more "codependency isn't always bad" or "codependency is a term we've grown to use too liberally when what should actually be the defining factor isn't the behaviors involved but whether or not those are actually hurting the people involved" or something in between or adjacent to that. It also feels like there might be kinda two definitions people use interchangeably? One being the more medical term and the other a looser thing of like, deeply dependent on each other.

But semantics aside I know what you mean, and yeah.

It is, generally speaking, unhealthy to be SO dependent on a SPECIFIC person that you can't live without them. Cam and Pal post-explosion had a very unique situation, whereas for most cases in real life, it's better to at least like... need SOMEONE, a purpose, a cause, but also be capable of seeking a new one if you lose that, after time to process and grief. A Camilla whose whole life revolved around Palamedes but didn't get him back learning to live again for Nona, as a hypothetical, or Harrow who would not let herself survive alone but can live for God and for Gideon and for Alecto and for the memory of those lost to conceive her and who may find other purposes still. Ofc no one is arguing Harrow is healthy about that, but like, if you CAN'T find an internal sense of worth, a purely external one is still infinitely better and healthier than none!

It feels very silly but a straight up life-changing thing for me as someone who does the same shit was the anime Gurren Lagann throwing around the phrase, "believe in the me who believes in you." Over time it morphed into "believe in the you that I believe in", and ultimately into having genuinely self-assurance, but taking even one or two of those steps is like... YEAH? Yeah! You know? External validation can be so meaningful and powerful, and isn't antithetical to internal by any means. If you can find it in even a handful of different sources, even better. A thing I try to tell people a lot when it comes to mental health too is you don't have to Get Better to get BETTER. It's not "you're unhealthy and must be fixed" or "you're 100% healthy in all ways". Less unhealthy and more functional than you were is amazing and to be celebrated actually!!!

But at the same time?

Ya know, no, I agree, I DON'T think it's a bad thing to need to NOT be ALONE. I understand the importance of being capable of surviving alone, at least long enough to seek new connections. And living for a person or cause is always easier than dying for them ("you could have lived for her, but you didn't know how"...), especially if you're living for their memory after they're gone, but people should try to do it anyway! But to just..... want to be devoted to someone? To thrive on supporting or caring for other people???

That's not what I'd call "toxic codependency", that's humans being a social species. Hell, that's looking at stories and seeing how many supporting characters are vital to helping a hero succeed and deciding "that sounds awesome actually! Not everyone needs to be the hero, I would love to be a supporting character!" Especially when you're not losing sight of your own needs in the process.

Like... Sacrifice and martyr mentality can be horrible destructive things that do more harm than good, but sacrifice is also objectively a major way people show love. Parents doing without a little more to make sure their kids get something nice, someone doing a chore they don't like because they know their partner hates it more, etc. The difference between "my needs aren't important, I'm not important, I'll always prioritize others because I don't take care of myself in general" and "I have weighed the pros and cons and decided that I can handle this and wish to put someone else first in this situation" is not always apparent from the outside but it's an extremely important distinction. There's a difference between being needlessly reckless and hard on yourself versus making a decision to achieve an end you want even though it costs you something.

Cam trying to hide how rough carrying Pal was on her wasn't her being needlessly reckless, it was her being a stubborn bitch who knows she's tough as hell. If anything people have more grounds to criticize her going against Pal's interests and wishes by not giving him information he needed to make properly informed decisions! To think that he was in any way taking advantage of her when she'd have found a way to kick his ass if he'd tried to force her to stop is wild lmao. (Not to mention Pal literally killing himself— he was still Around but objectively dead all the same!— in the "dying for someone is the cruelest thing you could do to them" book. Like he ain't making big sacrifices fueled by his love for and trust in her too smh.)

And honestly? Yeah that does sound like the kind of thing that could save the world. Our world would be a better place with less people striving to be main characters and more people eager to support each other. More people should be saying "No you will let me help you, you son of a bitch. Don't you dare tell me it's Too Much." >:( So many people are afraid of Being A Burden but more people need to understand— from the perspective of the person with that fear and as friends wishing to help someone who has that fear— that only the person offering help can decide what is A Burden to them! It's not the other person's decision to make!

Palamades didn't have a right to tell Camilla not to push herself to keep him around when that was her choice, and anyone fearing their loved ones sacrifice too much for them don't have a right to tell them to love them less, either. Sometimes— often, really— the alternative is worse. And part of me has to wonder if some people are averse to acknowledging that because if they did, then they'd have to acknowledge that letting someone else help you can be actively beneficial to them, and constantly refusing to ask for or accept help is in turn actively depriving them of something that would help them too. <.< Too bad everyone, gotta let people love you.

Locked tomb hot takes:

Insisting that the birth of Paul is only a tragedy because of the uneven power dynamics between Palamedes and Camilla as Necro and Cav invalidates Camillas autonomy and undermines her as a character capable of making her own decisions. It also undermines Palamedes constantly checking for consent. He understands more than most that there is an uneven power dynamic and actively works to respect her autonomy as much as he can while also respecting their bond/positions as necro and cav.

In a world where those who identify as men have no natural power over those who identify as women or neither, we can not apply the same cisheteronormative expectations of male behavior to male characters.

Camilla made every. Single. Choice. Willingly. She had reasons for it, and Palamedes respected that more than readers seem to. We get plenty of examples.

"What would you do if you discovered Camilla was a murderer?”

“Help her bury the body,” said Palamedes promptly.

“Sextus.”

“I mean it. If Camilla wants someone dead,” he said, “then far be it from me to stand in her way. All I can do at that point is watch the bloodshed and look for a mop. One flesh, one end, and all that.”

GtN chapter 30

NtN chapter 17

The relationship between these two may be codependent, but it's predicated on trust and consent. The whole way through. This is the life Cam wants to live. Becoming Paul was what *she wanted*.

I find it strange that some people think they know what's best for her more than she does, just because she's a cavalier.

[nix-illustrating]

Something incredible to me in Beast is just how... wrong Dazai was so often (and, by concequence, Gin). And how he was wrong in a very opposite was from og!Dazai's thinking.

Getting the memories from og!Dazai gave him many advantages, but it also held him back when it came to actually seeing the other people around him. Especially Atsushi and Akutagawa. He was convinced about being born good or evil and innate natures, which is something the story disproves time and time again.

In his mind, it didn't matter that he'd groomed Atsushi for almost five years into being the white reaper. It didn't matter that he killed himself infront of him after making himself the central point of Atsushi's frail sanity. It didn't matter that he fired Atsushi from his one remaining purpose. Why? Because Atsushi was "born good" in his mind because he was good in the original world and therefore any evilness groomed into him would be easily undone without any lasting consequences in his mind.

If he saw Atsushi being reformed slowly by Mori, he'd get to the wrong conclusion. He'd attribute it to nature rather than to Mori being able to rehabilitate him.

And this also shows in his treatment of Akutagawa. He thinks of Akutagawa as being inherently bad because he was in the mafia originally. The whole story is him being victim to confirmation biases when it comes to him and, because of that, the same happens to Gin. His idea with Akutagawa was never, at least to my understanding, to make him into a good man of the Agency, but rather have the ADA hold him under their care to unleash against threats. He didn't believe Akutagawa could become a proper ADA member (because he wasn't originally) but believed that the Agency would take him in anyway (because they took in Dazai and Kyouka in the original universe) and keep him from lashing out unless there was an enemy ahead of him.

And Gin gets fed this belief. It's why she doesn't talk like there will be a point in which Akutagawa might be reformed into a good person. Or that what he needed was to learn to calm down and organize his priorities. She believes he cannot change because that's what Dazai has taught her. Akutagawa's objective by the end of Beas isn't finding her anymore because he needs to better himself for himself and to prove Gin wrong. Not to reach her expectations or demands, but to prove her wrong, to show he is capable of change.

And, surprisingly enough, it's Atsushi who has the best take about Akutagawa in the final chapters, even though in Akutagawa's mind all of their judgements were put as if the same. From Atsushi's words, at least, Akutagawa is described as someone who is bad, who can't understand or separate violence from their objectives and who'll prioritize the violent option above even his objective, but he never expresses the opinion or feeling that that's his nature or he was born, likely because Atsushi know better than anyone how much someone can change or be changed. Atsushi doesn't think Akutagawa is a good person, but doesn't see him as someone incapable of becoming one (which does have some beautiful implications of SSKK always being able to understand esch other better than other can, even if they don't react or deal with the knowledge all that well).

And Dazai in the original universe thinks a lot more like Beast Atsushi than Beast Dazai (I could write a whole novel about the similarities between Original Dazai and Beast Atushi, because oh my god are they interesting). He doesn't believe in good and evil as something inher of someone nor does he see good and evil as concepts that are set in stone, but rather something personal to individuals. It's why I think even if Dazai was sent back in time to the exact point Beast Dazai received the memories, he would have gone through a completely different route when it came to changing the outcome of things. But also because he's changed since leaving the PM and it doesn't seem like Beast Dazai ever really grew up after getting the memories, he stayed both childish and a child.

[vaguely-concerned]

just going about my day idly contemplating how some of the ways hawke can interact with a romanced anders are not at all unlike how they interact with leandra (and a bit of carver too, especially with a purple hawke), and then thought about my hawke in the timeline where he romances anders and was hit straight in the face with 'was he ever actually in love, or was he just desperately trying to renegotiate with his mother's ghost in any way he could' and now i need to lie down. this is the power of dragon age 2

[avcnturine]

IT'S BEEN SOME TIME SINCE THE LAST PERSON who was this good at hiding their tells. he's pleasantly surprised. then again, this is a man who has all the reason to be guarded, and who has no idea as to who he's talking to. on a planet like this, these colorful eyes are nothing more than any other shiny bauble, balancing out their net worth in anonymity. he wonders, as they roam idly over the duke's face, lingering there, holding his own darker gaze for a few beats longer than socially comfortable, whether they were really as unnerving to have fixed on you as people say, even when you didn't know.

hypnotic fuschia, a brilliant blue enough to drown in. . . as the saying goes, the avgin's honey. finally, they blink, and his smile widens a little more, growing warm with the other's eventual, quiet admission. there's a lot to be admired in the honesty and the lack of posturing, the complete absence of pretense. he'd heard fontaine was a nation of theatrical and dramatic people, but this duke, now that he's met him in the flesh, seems like anything but.

"mm, that's very true. good point," he relents, sitting back in his own chair and allowing one leg to fold neatly over the other ; palms warm against the still-steaming cup in his lap. "that's something i was curious about, actually——it's not uncommon for prisoners to funnel back into the system through labor, and i understand that meropide is responsible for most of the machinery used throughout the nation. but despite that, it has a more robust livelihood of its own than just about any other penitentiary i've ever seen."

as for whether he seems like someone who'd seen many, he'd leave for the good duke to make his guesses.

approval isn't what he'd ascribe to most people he does business with ; for the most part, there aren't strong feelings either way——it comes down to something a lot more practical. but all the things he'd learned about this warden the last several weeks centered around the same thing: the fortress used to be very different. the labor, the culture, the credit system: these were meropide's new wealth, and that which they generated externally, for the rest of fontaine, was little more than an afterthought in most of the residents' minds. residents, rather than strictly prisoners.

"which goes back to what you were just saying: ' everyone here is repenting for something '. but in most cases, that's what the sentence is for, and the length of that repentance is for the judge to decide. here, on the other hand. . ." it seems like no one's in any hurry to leave. he lets that sit for a half-beat, then opts to get closer to the heart of the question ; and between the two paths to it laid before him, he takes the one less-traveled-by: "it seems like your own sentence ended a long time ago, duke wriothesley. so, when do you think you'll have served long enough?"

　♠　⋮﹒ leave no traces

[like-butterflies-and-glitter]

barely got through a fourth of the most boring flat beige hater review of the torchwood characters i have ever come across, you can only say you support women's wrongs you can't even handle morally light grey characters unless they are some cis white man from your fantasy romance get out of here

[milo-is-rambling]

Me when I want to be wanted more than anything else

[thehmn]

I wanted to make this post because we don’t see a lot of asexual characters in western media and despite him being from a hugely popular show (Seaside Hotel) you’re unlikely to know of his existence if you’re not from Denmark.

His name is Hjalmar Aurland and he’s one of the more sympathetic and realistic asexual characters I’ve seen. He lives in a time and place where asexuality as a concept doesn’t exist yet so he’s never labeled as such but rewatching the show made me realize that he acts exactly like the asexual people I personally know. Asexuality can mean a lot of things but his specific brand isn’t naive to sex nor is he repulsed by sex, sexual desire or thoughts simply doesn’t come naturally to him.

He can be convinced to have sex with his wife Helene but only if she appeals to their emotional bond. Just so you don’t get the wrong idea, he’s not being forced or emotionally blackmailed to sleep with her. It’s simply that he understands sex is a way to show emotional love too and he wants to express that love for Helene when it’s important to her, and seeing as sex isn’t unpleasant to him, just kinda boring, he’s willing to do that for her.

Unfortunately that isn’t enough for Helene and despite her love for Hjalmar she starts an affair with the dramatic and emotional actor Edward Weyse. He has a string of relationships, marriages and divorces behind him because despite what it may look like from the outside Edward doesn’t really want shallow sexual relationships. He just can’t help himself and keep falling in love with women left and right, fully and wholeheartedly, only to be dumped or dump them once the initial excitement has passed.

So Helene and Edward’s affair that was only meant to satisfy their carnal desires quickly becomes romantic. Helene feels torn between him and Hjalmar who she still loves and Edward understands the difficult situation they’re both in while also feeling jealous of Hjalmar. And Hjalmar? He doesn’t catch on for years. He’s not stupid but his brain just doesn’t jump to sex. He just assumes they’re good friends and why shouldn’t his wife be allowed to have friends, even male ones? Things get really complicated when Helene gets pregnant and she has to have sex with Hjalmar so he won’t wonder how it happened. Edward even has to join in on the seduction, reminding Hjalmar how much Helene loves him, even though it breaks Edward’s heart to do so.

But like I’ve said Hjalmar isn’t stupid. He saw the signs but chose to ignore them until one night when Helene accidentally says Edward’s name. It breaks the dam in Hjalmar’s denial and he has to face that deep down he always knew. Overcome by sadness and betrayal he wanders off into the night in nothing but his nightgown and gets a room at a different hotel where he can think in peace. Eventually he agrees to return to the first hotel with Helene and Edward and decides to take control of the situation.

He sits them both down and tells them that he understands that the three of them share a bond and that there are things he can’t really do for Helene so from now on he wants their relationship to be open and honest. He wants Helene and Edward to keep seeing each other and Edward is welcome in their house, but Hjalmar wants to be allowed to call Edward by his first name and makes it very clear that Helene and Edward’s children “belong to him” because he still thinks of himself as their dad and loves them as his own children. Both Helene and Edward agrees to it, though the emotional Edward is very flustered and confused by the acceptance and love he’s being shown by Hjalmar.

This is obviously a very tv drama situation but I was so stuck by how much Hjalmar acts like my asexual friends. Having a lover for your partner isn’t the most common solution but it’s an idea I’ve heard a lot of asexual people be open to under the right circumstances and of course that’s the most dramatic solution for a romantic tv drama.

Hjalmar is defined by so much more than his sexuality though. His main characteristic is his passion for social justice and equality, and other than some early show weirdness before they really cemented the characters, Hjamler is the only character who floats freely between the men and women. He’s just as likely to sit with the men as he is the women, often appearing in otherwise entirely female spaces. It’s never questioned or even brought up, not because he’s a “safe asexual” but because he cares and think their worries are as important as the men’s. He’s often called a pessimist by the other men when in reality he is determined to be hopeful and compassionate and spread the love he feels the world is lacking as WWII draws closer.

So yeah, I just wanted to share this sweet ace guy with you because you probably wouldn’t have known about him otherwise.

[yamujiburo]

Why I Love Hanamusa

I get this question very frequently but have never given a really in depth, definitive answer. All just kinda implied through my comics and spread out asks. So here's this I guess! Long post ahead:

First, as a Pokémon fan in her mid 20s, I love seeing a ship where the characters are both in their mid/late 20s. Already, they’re much more relatable to me and my current experiences. Most Pokémon ships are between preteens, which can be cute but ultimately don’t interest me as much as they used to when I was a kid myself. Not enough to get super invested in and draw a lot of fanart for anyways haha.

I’ll also start by saying that canon doesn’t always influence whether or not I’ll ship something. I’m much more drawn to potential. Could the characters work together? Do their personalities work together in a nice way? I feel like this so much of fanon is anyways. Especially with queer relationships because they’re rarely depicted in the first place. A lot of the context for these ships is usually up to the fans to piece together or make up in general. And that’s the fun part to me!

Jessie and Delia have only met in the anime a handful of times. Any interaction they’ve had has either been pleasant, or just a typical Team Rocket interaction, with Delia dismissing them/not seeing them as a threat. Already a great jumping off point for me since, truly, they don’t have any actual beef or true, ill feelings towards each other. It’s not TOO out of the realm of possibility for them to potentially fall for each other. “But Jessie chased Delia’s son around trying to steal his Pokémon!” That’s where that dismissive and aloof attitude that Delia has comes into play. I’ll go more into Delia’s whole deal a bit later but I do think this aspect of her personality is a large reason why this ship can work. It’s not that she doesn’t care that Jessie has a bad past, but she can tell that, on the inside, Jessie’s a good person. And, in a scenario where Jessie is trying to become a better person, is forgiving enough to give her a shot. I feel like this is such a solid foundation for a ship. A character who has done wrong but is trying to be better and another character who is willing to help them be better. A classic dynamic!

It’s not just one-sided though; where Jessie is the only one benefitting and learning from the relationship. I believe Delia could get a lot out of being with someone like Jessie. To understand why, I think it’s important to know these characters’ respective backstories.

Jessie is an orphan/foster child who grew up in poverty. Her mother Miyamoto (from The Birth of Mewtwo) was a Team Rocket operative herself, who went on a mission to find Mew. In order to do this, she had to leave Jessie when she was just a toddler. Unfortunately, Miyamoto went MIA on her mission leaving Jessie to more or less fend for herself. Jessie went through life with zero stability, evident by her MANY different careers and constant moving around. It’s implied in the show that she went from foster home to foster home, and later in life tried being an idol, weather girl, florist, wine connoisseur, actress, most notably a nurse and finally a Team Rocket field agent. And even while in Team Rocket, she, James and Meowth were always doing odd jobs to get by. We see that Jessie used to be a sweet kid, and even adult, but the world and her circumstances repeatedly did her dirty, leading her to become the character we know today. Hot tempered, mean, selfish, etc. But despite this, her soft side does still shine through for the people and Pokémon she cares about. She is incredibly loyal.

Delia, unbeknownst to a lot of fans, also had a rough past (see Pocket Monsters: The Animation). Like Jessie, she had a lot of dreams and aspirations like wanting to be a model and even a trainer. But when she was 10, her mother didn’t let her, telling her that she had to stay home and learn to run the family restaurant (she’s an only child). Delia’s father left her and her mother to be a trainer, and never returned. When she was 18, she married Ash’s father and became pregnant shortly after. But right after Ash was born, he also set off to be a Pokémon trainer. And soon after that, her mother passed away, leaving Delia with just the restaurant and baby Ash. This gives so much context to Delia’s attitude in the show. We see that Delia is pained whenever Ash leaves on a journey, but she never shows that pain to anyone. ESPECIALLY Ash. She’s very quick to shoo him off when he shows any sign of wanting to go on another journey and even when he returns home, she acts more excited to see Pikachu than him almost every time. Without all this backstory, it’s easy to just read this as a funny gag, BUT with context, I think it really shows how quickly Delia shuts down and detaches in order to not confront her own feelings. She’s afraid of losing people and getting hurt again.

All that said, I think Jessie and Delia provide each other with EXACTLY what the other needs. 

Aside from becoming rich and famous, Jessie’s biggest aspiration is to get married. In my opinion, this is more so an underlying want for love and stability. There is no one more stable in the show than Delia. Delia’s lived in Pallet her whole life, she’s worked at the same restaurant since she was young and she is always there when Ash comes back home. She has all the love, patience and stability Jessie needs and craves. While forgiving, Delia’s not stupid and can keep Jessie in check. Delia’s also just an angel, which I feel, would make Jessie want to be better. And on top of all this, on more of a surface level, Delia’s a chef and excellent cook. She shows love through cooking and Jessie, who grew up poor, regularly starving and eating snow, happily receives that love. Jessie’s able to live a happy and healthy life with someone like Delia.

Delia, as stated, is very stable. Likely pretty monotonous and solitary, especially living in such a small town like Pallet. This isn’t a bad thing but it’s a little sad when you consider that Delia also had dreams of traveling, being a model and a trainer. She had to give up so many dreams in order to fulfill her duties as a restaurant owner and mother. And even now, when Ash is off on his journey, she feels the need to always be home and be that stable pillar, leaving behind any ambitions she had, thinking it’s too late for her (she’s only 29 btw). But then along comes Jessie, dangerous, passionate, an absolute firecracker. Someone who’s whole life has been about chasing dreams and either, never giving up on them or finding a new dream to chase. Upon learning about Delia’s past aspirations, I could see Jessie pushing her towards them, letting her know that life’s too short and she has nothing to lose from trying. On top of this, Jessie’s also loyal. She, James and Meowth are depicted as doing anything for anyone who gives them food or shows them kindness. Delia does both so there’s no way Jessie would leave her. This fulfills an essential need for Delia, who is afraid of the people in her life leaving her.

There’s so much potential for mutual growth and learning between these two and I adore that. They compliment each other, they help each other and they bring out the best qualities in one another.

I’m not really sure how to end this and I could truly talk about them even more but I don’t want this to be tooooo long haha. OH I could end it with maybe the most funny aspect of this ship that I've brushed over and also what drew me to it in the first place. Jessie. As Ash’s stepmom. THE END.

[grandline-fics]

Hello! Hope your having a good day today! Can I request mihawk, shanks and buggy with the prompt "sleeping separately after an argument" You can just do one of the characters listed if your busy! Or change them into a different character it's totally fine with me! - 🪼

DESCRIPTION: Prompt: Sleeping separately after an argument

WARNINGS: slight angst, arguing couples, ends in comfort 

CHARACTERS: Mihawk, Shanks, Buggy

WORDS: 4,199

A/N: Thank you for this request! It's my first Buggy request and first time writing for him so I hope he's to your liking. I tried to keep things varied with these and are on the long side to include a happy ending.

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST

———————

MIHAWK

“So what? You were never going to send word to me that you were safe?” You’d demanded glaring at your lover that you hadn’t seen in months. Ordinarily you were used to the time and distance apart but he was always in contact with you in some regard. This time however you had no idea about his whereabouts, not until that stupid poster fluttered out of your morning newspaper and you travelled across the sea to Cross Guild to see him for yourself, otherwise you doubted he’d have ever contacted you. 

“Well you would have known from the poster’s existence that I was perfectly safe.” Mihawk answered coolly. He hated how he was speaking to you but in his clear view of the world, in the long run this would be best. Underneath his calm exterior, seeing you stroll into Cross Guild had both sent a mix of conflicting feelings through him. On the one hand he loved the sight of you and wanted nothing more than to close the distance between you and welcome you properly. On the other he felt unnerved. He hadn’t been expecting you, if he had known perhaps his approach would have been more thought out but you were the only person to ever rattle him.

All he knew was he needed you gone so he could clear his head and he needed you out of Cross Guild before Crocodile came sniffing around. Acting on instinct, he’d abruptly taken your arm and led you out of the room filled with people. He didn’t need them listening in on any private conversation of his. However you’d only let him get as far as the corridor before you pulled out of his grip and began to interrogate him over his actions. Mihawk refused to tell you the truth, he refused to admit his only worry. Now that he no longer had the protection of Warlord, you would have a clearer and larger target on your head if anyone knew you were romantically involved with him. As much as he knew you could look after yourself he didn’t want to bring any added hassle to your life, nor did he want you to change your life by remaining in Cross Guild just to give him the peace of mind you were safe. “You’ve wasted your journey coming here.”

“Don’t fuck with me, Dracule.” You snarled meeting his steady, impassive stare with your own burning in intensity. You knew he was being guarded for a reason but after all this time you were frustrated and hurt that he wasn’t being honest with you. After all you’d handled together and after proving you were strong enough to be considered his equal, he still wanted to push you away. “You don’t get to stand there and throw some generic one-liner at me. I know you better than that and I deserve better than that. Now talk to me properly and explain yourself.”

“Since when have I ever had to explain my movements?” Mihawk asked arching an eyebrow at you while you continued to glare daggers at him. It never ceased to amaze him that you could always meet his stare. “Cross Guild is new and needed my entire focus, you would have just been an unwelcome distraction and a possible liability.” 

As much as his words hurt, they baffled you even more. Hopelessly you stared up at the man in front of you, trying to understand. None of it made sense. You both knew your lives took you in separate directions and you’d never once tried to force yourself into his business just as he respected yours. The only thing you both ensured was contacting the other if something unexpected happened so neither of you worried. Had he just done that, you wouldn’t have come looking for him. You stared at Mihawk and saw he wasn’t going to give in or tell you the truth, whatever his reasons were it was clear he didn’t respect you enough to be honest then was there any point in saying anything more. 

Mihawk watched as something switched in your demeanour and the spark in your eyes seemed to snuff out. He didn’t move as you approached and reached out. When your fingers skimmed against his jaw he had to steel his nerve to not give into the temptation you always brought him. It only got worse when you leant in and pressed your lips against his. Mihawk felt his resolve begin to snap but the kiss was over just as fast as it began. You pulled back and stared at him, no longer with understanding but firm resolve and finality. “I’m glad you’re safe and I wish you the best of luck with Cross Guild.” 

With nothing left to say you left Mihawk, heading for the entrance to let the stubborn man you loved get back to his new focus only to stop abruptly when Crocodile stepped around the corridor and all but blocked your exit. You stopped and looked at the man you knew mostly from newspapers and reputation. You kept your expression even as Crocodile stared down at you, his keen observation taking you in before drifting up to Mihawk who glared warningly at his business partner. “Leaving so soon?” He asked simply, returning his attention back to you. “You just got here.”

“I was never planning on staying.” You answered dryly, stepping around the broader man only to sigh when he called after you.

“It’s too late for sailing though. There’s plenty of rooms for you to stay in if Mihawk’s room isn’t to your liking.”

“Not necessary.”

“Suit yourself, just know there’re undercover Marines camped out at the only inn on this island. I use the term ‘undercover’ lightly. Still better to know now just in case…” Crocodile’s voice floated towards you and you stopped walking. You turned to watch the man light a cigar, completely at ease. Briefly you flickered your gaze towards Mihawk and you bit your tongue. Looked like you were becoming the liability Mihawk had predicted you’d be. 

“Just show me to a room.” You muttered to a smug Crocodile. “I’ll be gone by morning.”

Mihawk couldn’t sleep. In the times he was apart from you he had adopted a talent for forcing his body to rest at least a little and grab naps here and there through necessity. However when you were both in the same vicinity as each other he could never sleep without your body beside his. Knowing you were just a few rooms away was like the cruellest form of torture. Now that he’d had the time to actually think about it all and his actions, he knew he was an idiot and had reacted and let his worries for you direct him when he should have just talked. Mihawk let out a low growl and rose from his bed. Crocodile was a smug, interfering bastard and had made sure to stop by and casually inform him which room you’d be staying in so he found you in no time. Knocking once he waited. 

Slowly you opened the door, your eyes stinging with tiredness. After all the tossing and turning you’d done your body was exhausted and so nearly ready to give in and let you sleep. Then Mihawk had to disturb that by knocking. His golden eyes scanned yours and he frowned to see the dark circles. Another thing for him to apologise for. “The last thing I want is for you to feel forced into stopping living your life how you want to. I was worried that with my Warlord status now being gone you’d be targeted to hurt me were people to find out we’re a couple. I know you can look after yourself but I’d hate to think you ever got hurt because of me. I acted poorly and pushed you away without thinking because had I really thought about it, not having you in my life was the worst thing I could think of.”

“You should have just told me sooner. You get so much more talkative when you’re sleepy, did you know that?” You asked with a small smile. “So I’m not a liability or unwelcome distraction?”

“Never a liability.” Mihawk swore, relieved that you’d stepped away from the door and allowed him to move closer to you. “A distraction most definitely but always a welcome one.”

“So I can stay?” You asked, leaning into his touch as his hand cupped your face and lowered his head so your foreheads touched, finally getting to enjoy the reunion at last. 

“For as long as you want.” 

SHANKS

“What the hell were you thinking?!” Shanks demanded angrily as he stared at you, his eyes zeroed in on the large and painful looking bruise against your cheek and your bandaged leg.  

“What do you mean ‘what the hell was I thinking’ Shanks?!” You snapped back viciously. Why the hell was he blaming you for something that was clearly an accident. “I was thinking about stopping one of the recruits from getting crushed, obviously.” 

“You weren’t even meant to be there in the first place.”

“It’s a good fucking job I was there.” You retorted, holding your ground fiercely and unwaveringly. “If it hadn’t been for me, they could have been severely injured or killed. Why are you berating me for doing the right thing?” Shanks rarely admonished you or anyone on the crew for that matter. Usually looking out for other members was something he praised. This was just so out of character for him. All you wanted was an explanation, to just understand what it was you’d done that was so bad to deserve all of the animosity. “Had Benn or Lucky been in my place would they be getting this tirade?” From outside the room you and Shanks were arguing in, Benn and Lucky shared a nervous look. Why did they have to be brought into this? Everyone on board bustled about, trying to see to their tasks without making too much noise from fear of drawing yours or Shanks’ ire.

“That’s not the point. This is about-”

“No, it very much is the fucking point.” You interrupted, your blood boiling and patience fraying. “Answer the question. Would you be speaking to them like this had they done the exact same as me?”

“They’re my right and left hands. You’re…” Shanks stopped clumsily and stared at you. This was the crux of the matter. You were different, he cared for everyone on his crew but to see you hurt had made him realise just how much he’d loved you and never faced that feeling before. He had been terrified that afternoon when he’d heard the yells, the heavy crashes of cargo falling after the ropes securing them had snapped from the strain and their age, and came across the seen of you lying on the ground. For a moment he’d feared the absolute worst and because of that, he’d reacted badly and still he was too scared to vocally tell you why. “You’re…”

“Right…” You sniffed slightly, nodding as the pieces seemed to fall into place for you. “I’m just the Captain’s current bedwarmer.”

“What? No!” Seeing the hurt in your eyes at your misinterpretation of the relationship you had, managed to jolt him out of his anger. He took a step toward you, reaching out and watched as you flinched and stepped back. “I didn’t-”

“Don’t bother.” You uttered, continuing to the door. “I’ve had enough of this.”

For the rest of the day you stayed as far away from Shanks as you could but no matter where you were you could feel his stare on you. It felt strange to not be so close, to let your presences mix together in a balanced sense of warmth and strength but at the moment you didn’t want to be near him. You didn’t want to listen to the sound of his voice that usually reassured you and made you smile. Exhausted by the events that led to the argument and the argument itself, you retired to bed early when you’d finished your dinner. Shanks said nothing but watched as you walked away, his frown deepening when he saw you walk in the opposite direction of his quarters that had also doubled as yours since you two got involved. With a long sigh Shanks rubbed his face, as much as he wanted to go after you he wanted to respect your wish for distance. 

Despite your desperate need for rest and sleep, it just wouldn’t come. You’d tossed and turned in what had been your old bed that now felt unfamiliar, simply unable to let your mind settle. With that being coupled with being unable to get comfortable in anyway you let out a long sigh and rolled over, staring at the ceiling in frustration. How did it come to the point that without Shanks your body was like a stubborn toddler, refusing the sleep it wanted and clearly needed? Absently your hand settled over your chest and you closed your eyes, trying to think about anything other than the man who you’d fallen for yet had been hurt by. Suddenly from outside your room you heard a muttered curse and dull thud. Dragging yourself out of bed you opened the door and looked down in bewilderment to see Shanks curled up in the corridor with a pillow and blanket. At the sound of the door opening he’d slowly rolled onto his back and looked up at you cautiously. “What are you doing?” You asked tiredly, leaning against the doorframe. 

“I didn’t mean to wake you…”

“You didn’t.” Your tone and expression was even but underneath it all you were unsure. “Answer the question, please. What are you doing down there? You could damage your back if you’re not careful.” 

“It’d be the least I deserve for speaking to you the way I did.” Shanks muttered, his shame evident. “I didn’t want to sleep in our bed, not without you. It didn’t feel right and I also wanted to give you space but…I still wanted to be near. This was the only thing I could think of.”

“Our bed?” You repeated with a tilt of your head. 

“Yes our bed, in our quarters.” Shanks insisted as he sat up but remained firmly on the floor. The fact that you were even willing to speak with him and that you hadn’t slammed the door in his face was enough to give him the courage to say what he should have that morning instead of running his mouth without thinking. “You’re more to me than some ‘bedwarmer,’ you always have been and I’d been too much of a coward to admit it. When I saw you hurt I feared the worst and just panicked. I shouldn’t have spoken to you the way that I had and I certainly should have told you how much I love you before now. For all of that I’m so sorry and will do what I can to make it up to you, only if you’ll let me that is.”

“Okay, three conditions and I’ll forgive you.” You conceded after a few heavy seconds and you fought to hold back your smile at the sight of Shanks’ face lighting up immediately.

“Name them.” He swore with no hesitation, watching as you knelt down beside him.

“First, I get your favourite pillow for the next month.”

“You can have it forever.” Shanks grinned, his hand sliding over your waist as you inched closer. “Next?”

“You carry me back to our room so we can sleep.” Immediately Shanks had you scooped up and was off the floor in a fluid motion that pulled a surprised yelp from your lips. In no time at all you were both back in what you now knew to be your shared quarters and not just his. Shanks settled you on the mattress, making sure your head was cushioned by the pillow you’d only jokingly wanted before he crawled under the covers and held you close. In unison you both felt peace settle over you both, the sleep that your bodies had refused was now creeping through you now but Shanks refused to fall over just yet. “What’s the third condition?”

“Tell me you love me again.” You murmured, your eyes already closed and body pressed against his chest. Shanks sleepily chuckled and held you tighter, vowing to never risk letting you go again. you were his heart after all. 

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

BUGGY

Everyone knew Buggy had a short fuse. They knew that a good mood could turn sour without any warning, all it would take would be the wrong thing at the wrong time and he’d implode his fury on the closest thing possible and it wouldn’t matter if it was to blame or not. Today it seemed you were the focus for his anger. You’d walked into the big top merely to tell your lover that he was needed by both Mihawk and Crocodile. “Hey Bug-”

“No!” You stopped mid-step when the clown’s head detached from his body and whirled through the air and glared down at you. Stunned, you could only stare into his angry eyes and listen to his vicious rant. “I have had it with the sheer incompetence of everyone! How hard is it to listen to simple instructions?” You were sure that Buggy didn’t have any idea that it was you that he was shouting at. When he got like this all he really saw was the person’s outline and no discernible features. Still though, you opened your mouth to try and calm him before his face got as red as his nose but he just got lost in his anger that had reached boiling point. “What did I just say?! Get the hell out of my sight before I use you for target practice!”

The idea of Buggy hurting you caused the amused smile and light laughter to appear out of the sheer absurdity of it all. You were the one Buggy loved, he’d never bring you harm. But all Buggy saw and heard was insubordination, mocking his authority and his status. Now that Mihawk and Crocodile were around the big top was the only place he still had any power. For someone to laugh at him here was only adding fuel to the fire. 

His hands detached and grabbed your upper arm, hauling you off your feet so you were now eye level with him. Only now did he blink through his fury and realise who it was he was about to physically punish. But still he was angry and his lack of authority had made him shaken. If he immediately apologised now, he’d seem weak. He needed those who followed him to see he was in charge. You saw the recognition in Buggy’s eyes and thought he'd lessen his hold and set you back on your feet but instead he kept you in the air. “Why do I tolerate you and your lack of respect? Just be grateful for my mercy. Keep out of my way and out of my spotlight! Is that clear?” 

 Ever since the founding of Cross Guild you'd done your best to reassure Buggy that he was still important and still powerful. You’d navigated his low self-esteem and tantrums for years, knowing him longer and better than anyone. You loved him and you knew he loved you but this made your own anger begin to light. His behaviour like this towards you would not be something you'd let him get away with but you also didn’t want him to lose face in front of the crew who were watching with held breaths. “Crystal clear, Captain Buggy.” You responded in an empty monotone. “Thank you for your mercy. The spotlight is yours and yours alone. If you can let me go I’ll keep out of your way, it won’t happen again.”

“G-good.” Buggy quickly uttered and set you on your feet before releasing your arms. His mind was slowly clearing as he watched with uncertainty as you fixed your clothes and headed for the door. Absently he wondered why you’d been in here in the first place. Dread filled his stomach now, had you come in just to visit him and unintentionally been brought into the firing line? You opened the door and refused to look his way. 

“I’ll let Mihawk and Crocodile know you’re busy, Captain.” Your remark made his eyes bug out and he was frozen in place. What did those two want with him now?! Panic filled him as he abruptly dismissed the crew and he hurried for the door you’d left through. When he was in the hallway he saw you were heading for one of the lounge rooms and not Cross Guild’s meeting room, Buggy sighed in relief. He made a mental note to talk to you after and hurried for the meeting. 

As the day wore on, Buggy’s mood lifted significantly and the morning’s incident with you was unfortunately pushed further and further to the back of his mind. It wasn't until the evening time that he realised he hadn’t seen much of you. When he passed Alvida he asked if she’d seen where you’d gone. Alvida regarded him silently, confusion pulling at her features. “On your way to apologise?”

“What does my flashy self have to apologise for?” Buggy asked with a confident grin. 

“Well this morning, remember?” Alvida asked with a smirk as realisation flickered in Buggy’s eyes. “Yelling at nothing subordinates is one thing, but your lover? You need to talk to them. Sadly I haven’t seen them since you told them to keep out of your way. Hope you find them.” Buggy watched hopelessly as the woman continued on her way, not even bothering to assist him in finding you. Grinding his teeth anxiously, Buggy continued his search. He finally found you in your shared room and with a sigh of relief, believing he didn’t need to apologise after all he flopped himself down onto the bed. 

“Been looking everywhere for you. Hey, where’re you going?” He immediately sat up when you moved for the door, watching you turn to look at him with a frown. 

“Keeping out of your way Captain Buggy.” You explained. “As per your orders.”

With a sigh Buggy prepared himself to finally apologise. “You know I didn’t mean it. Not with you.”

“But you don’t make mistakes, Captain.” You shook your head, not allowing him to talk him way out of his actions so soon. “Don’t worry I’ll keep out of your spotlight.”

“There’s no spotlight here-”

“Where you are, the spotlight follows that includes here.” Your eyes moved to the bed he was lying on. The last time you and Buggy had slept separately was when he was in Impel Down and it had been the worst time of your lives but you had to do something. Buggy knew that you’d have to be severely hurt by him to even consider putting yourself through that and he knew he was to blame for it. So he could only numbly let you leave to have some space from him. “Sleep well, Captain.”

For hours Buggy tried to sleep but it just refused to come. Even though he knew your body wasn’t beside him, his hands still searched across the cold mattress in the hopes of finding you and his head always turned towards your pillow, eyes desperate to find your face in the dark. With a sigh, Buggy rose, his lesson well and truly learned. Trudging down the silent hallways he moved to the lounge he’d seen you head towards after he’d yelled at you that morning. Stopping in the doorway he saw you lying on the sofa, staring at the ceiling with heavy eyes that stubbornly wouldn’t close. “Can I come in?”

“It’s your circus, Captain.” You mumbled, still looking at the ceiling and too tired to move. “You don’t need to ask me for permission for anything.”

“Yes I do.” Buggy insisted, slowly walking into the room and stopped at the foot of the sofa. “You’re not some subordinate and the second I realised it was you I was shouting at I should have stopped. I should have apologised. Any orders I have are for those morons, never you. I’m sorry you had to do this to make me see that.”

Finally you dropped your eyes from the ceiling to observe Buggy, seeing he was free from his makeup and flashy outfit. Not Captain or figurehead, just your Buggy. Slowly you moved your blanket aside to wordlessly invite Buggy to join you. Tiredly you smiled when he wasted no time in moving down to lie with you, his arms circling you and his lips pressing lovingly against your cheek. Buggy relished the way you relaxed against him but knew he still had a hell of a lot of making up to do and come the morning he’d do jus that until you were sick of his flashy apology and spoiling you.

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TAG LIST (If I've missed anyone or if you want to be added just let me know) @3v37773, @tsaaps , @i-am-all-love-puns-and-lazy , @sanemisnonexistenteyebrow , @fiery-captain-spider-santa @kabloswrld , @atanukileaf

[beloveds-embrace]

Thinking about designationless reader...

Imagine how alone she must've been for all her life. It started since she was young, her parents pushing her to the corner of the home, away from the family, and naturally, her siblings would follow their parents' lead, pointedly ignoring her, and finding any excuse available to be out of her presence. She wouldn't understand them anyway, she can't tell the difference between noises nor could she even recognize scents. It just wouldn't work.

Reader thinks that maybe she could find someone, anyone in school, but kids are like sharks, except instead of smelling blood, they smell the lack of all scents on her. Most kids have a combination of their own and their family members' scents. Reader has nothing, so everyone continues the pattern, but now with more stares and jeers and hushed giggles. Reader knows that bullying is bad, but anything would be better than simply not existing to anyone. That's what the others say, at least, that she's nothing, nobody. Never to her face, though, just in the whispers shared between friends.

She eventually tries to find others like her through the wonders of the internet. There's maybe a handful more scattered in her country, but none are her age, and all have their own families who care about them. Was it just her who wasn't deserving of love, of connection? Reader reaches out to them, and they talk a little, but before long, through no one's fault, it falls through. She was bad at talking anyway, even if she doesn't have to worry about scents or sounds that aren't there, she never knew much about context or connotation. She never had the opportunity to learn about the intricacies in communication. Reader is back alone.

The military eventually scouts her, and it's the first time anyone has ever really looked at her. Sure, they look at her like a valuable tool, but a tool is better than nothing. Reader obviously joins, desperate for crumbs. She climbs the ranks, gets the job done. She is good at her job, so people respect her. She learns how to talk professionally, emails, texts, and so one, but no one talks to her on leave. No one invites her to the pub after a good mission. No one even talks to her in the mess. But people do talk to her when they have to, and that's enough. Maybe she even gets a callsign. Doe. After Jane Doe, the placeholder name for unknown individuals, and insult if anything.

Now there's the 141. They invite her to things. They talk to her. They touch her. Reader exists for them. She isn't just an unknown person stuck in the background and invisible to everyone else, and Reader doesn't know what to do. Her speech is awkward and overly professional, even in personal settings. How is she supposed to be friends with someone, multiple someones? How is she supposed to move? To act? To express? She doesn't know, but she really wants to learn. At least now she has good teachers.

ANON YOU GENIUSSSS okay but this? Perfect. AHHHH I ADORE THIS IDEA!! Esp the jane doe callsign omg yes

You weren’t used to being seen.

Growing up, you learned quickly how to make yourself small- how to exist quietly, without taking up space, without asking for too much. Because the few times you had asked- asked for a hug, asked to be let into the nest, asked why you felt so different- the answers had all been the same.

No.

Not now.

Not you.

It wasn’t that your parents didn’t love you. You were sure they did, in their own way. But love was hard to feel when your mother flinched at your touch like you were something disgusting, when your father sighed like he was tired every time you entered the room as if you were taking up space he was saving for his other children. When your siblings built their nests without you, curling into piles of warmth and safety while you sat outside the door, knees pulled to your chest and hands balled into fists to keep them from knocking, a cold ache burrowing itself in your chest.

You stopped knocking eventually.

You stopped trying.

You used to wonder if you’d done something wrong- if maybe you could fix yourself and everything would go back to normal. But it wasn’t something you could fix. It was just… you.

Scentless.

Designationless.

Invisible.

School had been worse, perhaps the worst. At least your family had pretended not to notice how different you were. The other kids didn’t bother pretending. They stared openly, whispered behind your back, laughed when you walked by. You’d caught bits and pieces of what they said- weird, wrong, broken, as if they hoped by having you hear their words, they’d convince you to leave at last.

You’d started keeping your head down after that, slipping through the halls like a shadow. No one talked to you unless they had to, and even then they either did it with a mocking, jeering tone that echoes in your nightmares or with a meek tone; as if your lack of everything is contagious. No one sat next to you at lunch, either. When partners were assigned, you always ended up working alone per your teachers’ instructions.

It was easier that way.

At least, that’s what you told yourself.

By the time you joined the military, you’d gotten good at being alone. You didn’t need friends. Didn’t need packmates. You had work, and work didn’t care if you were quiet or awkward or too stiff to laugh at the right jokes. Work didn’t care if you flinched when people got too close or froze when someone raised their voice. Work demanded to be done, and you had nothing and no one to stop you from that.

But the military also has the same teens who used to bully you so consistently. Rookies all to ready and happy to lord over you. It’s how you get your despised callsign, Doe. Jane Doe. A cruel mockery, comedy wherein you are the joke that has the world laughing.

Still, you wear it. It’s still an acknowledgment and that will always be better than never being seen. You flit from team to team, unit to unit, always an observer from afar, watching everyone around you speak a language you can’t.

But the 141 was different, when you eventually end up working for them.

They cared.

They cared in ways you weren’t ready for.

Soap was relentless, dragging you into conversations even when you barely knew what to say. He filled the silences like it didn’t bother him, kept talking for the both of you, lounging against you unbothered, until you started talking back. Gaz was gentlest, steadier. He never pushed, just lingered close enough to remind you he was there, waiting, whenever you were ready. Quiet, silent acceptance you’d never been given before, and you were yet far too afraid to so easily cling to it.

And the Alphas- Price and Ghost- were worse.

Price had a way of looking at you that made your chest ache, like he saw you, really saw you, and didn’t mind what he found. Scentless, with no designation and all. Ghost was quieter, sharper, but his eyes tracked you everywhere, presence wrapping around you like he was staking a claim you didn’t understand, like he was teying to etch every part of you behind his eyelids.

You didn’t know what to do with it.

They didn’t give you space. They sat next to you at meals, tugged you along when they went out for drinks, called you over during breaks like it was the most natural thing in the world. And it felt natural- until it didn’t, because sometimes you still felt like an outsider.

Like you didn’t belong.

You tried to hide it, but they saw through you. They always did, and they never shied away.

When you started avoiding the mess hall, it was Gaz who caught you, shoving a plate of food into your hands and dragging you to sit with him like it wasn’t a big deal. When you hung back during missions, letting the others fall into their pack dynamics without you, Soap was the one who looped an arm around your shoulders and pulled.

And when you flinched, once, at the sharp sound of someone’s voice echoing down the hall- when you tensed so hard it made your fingers tremble- it was Price who closed the distance, standing in front of you like a wall and letting Ghost linger at your back. Neither of them said a word.

They didn’t have to.

You weren’t used to being protected. You weren’t used to belonging.

But they made it hard not to.

[allbark-no-bite]

good boy.

art donaldson x reader (wc: 2.9k)

summary: as Art’s personal physical therapist, it’s your job to fix what Tashi has torn apart, by whatever means necessary. or in which Art just needs some TLC

warnings: 18+ smut, it could be worse tbh, mentions of disordered eating

author’s note: i’m back ig?? im out of uni for the summer and challengers has me in a chokehold. Art Donaldson the man that you are

————————————————————————

You're standing just within earshot of the doorway, passing a sanitary wipe over one of the tables in the athlete treatment room when you hear the door abruptly open. Tashi storms in with a purpose and Art trails meekly behind her. Even if you had been clueless to how the match had gone rather than on the sidelines beside Tashi not even twenty minutes ago, you could have guessed by the hard line of her mouth that Art was in for it. Not that her displeased scowl was much different from her usual scowl, but you'd been around long enough to know the difference.

She stops abruptly, and Art heels obediently as Tashi turns around to face him. "I need you to tell me when you're going to fucking get it together so that I can stop wasting my time."

Weary and sweat soaked, Art just stares at her with that pitiful look on his face and says nothing in reply. His blue eyes solemnly take in her harsh disappointment as though beyond used to it. At this point it's not all that foreign to you either.

"You may as well be fucking asleep out there," she snaps.

This time his mouth opens. "I- I'm just tired-" he begins, although there's hardly any argue to his voice at all.

"No, I'm tired, Art," Tashi interjects. "Do you have any idea how much fucking work I've put into getting you back onto the court this past year?! I've done everything! The least you could do go out there and try to act like I've done anything for you at all!"

Art swallows, the slight frown on his face deepening. "I am. I just- I don't-"

Before he can even finish his sentence. The open palm of Tashi's hand connects with his cheek as she pops the left side of his face. Art closes his mouth. You pretend to concentrate on wiping down the table. It's not the first time you've witnessed one of these conversations but it still feels private, like you shouldn't be here. You keep wiping the table.

Understanding that anything else he says is only going to make Tashi angrier, Art resigns to once again watching her in silence. His blue eyes are sad. The usually fair skin of his cheek is tinted pink where she popped him. Although it wasn't very hard, you're sure it still hurt him all the same.

"Quit wasting my time," is all she says before she finally turns and leaves, walking right past you and out the other door. You hold your breath as she passes you. Art watches her go but makes no move to follow. You release an audible sigh. It's been a frustrating day for everyone. As Art's personal trainer, physical therapist, and close friend, you felt every loss, every ache and pain, every bad play. And there seemed to be a lot of those lately.

Art is still standing there, watching the closed door that Tashi left though.

Not knowing how to break the silence, you finally pat the freshly sanitized treatment table. "C'mon," you call gently, as though beckoning to a wounded dog.

It takes a moment for him to budge, but eventually he does, his disheartened spirit apparent in the way he walks over. Used to the usual routine, he tugs his damp shirt off over his head as he takes a seat, the lean muscles of his torso flexing as he does so. You allow yourself to ogle at him, only for a brief moment before stepping in between the bracket of his knees. Gently, you cradle his chin, tipping his head back to look up at you as your thumb smooths over the redness of his cheek. His blue eyes blink up at you, sad and dog-like.

"It wasn't terrible," you reassure him. "You had surgery six months ago. You're still getting your feet back underneath you. Most people wouldn't have come back." You're right. The still-pink scars on his shoulder are still fresh on your mind. The stitches weren't even out before Tashi had him in physical therapy. Even though his medical team had released him, it was still a bit early to start doing rehab so soon after surgery, Art's comfort being your biggest concern. But when Tashi wants something, she gets it.

Wordlessly, Art sighs, the weight of his head settling into your palm as he finally lets go of the tension he'd been carrying. It was always like this. You fixing what Tashi had torn apart. You understood where Tashi was coming from. Art needed a firm voice in his training, and you had a lot of respect for the way she put her foot down and never let up, not even once. But there was only so many times you could kick a dog while he was down.

So if Art needed someone to coddle him, you would coddle him.

He trusts you. He needs you, is what Tashi had told you when she asked you to stay on as his trainer full time. The three of you had been in the same year at Stanford all those years ago, Tashi and Art on the tennis team and you helping out as a student trainer as part of a class requirement. Three peas in a pod, the trio of you were. Of course then they both graduated, leaving you to finish up your schooling, meanwhile Art set off to go pro.

A few years later, once Tashi officially took on the position as Art's coach, she began building his team, and that's where you came in. You were hesitant at first.

'I already lost to you once, Tashi. I won't come in second to you again.'

She had paused on the other end of the line. Back in your Stanford days, it was obvious to anyone with eyes that you were head over heels in love with the blonde tennis player. But loving Art was like accepting the participation ribbon for a game you knew you weren't going to win in the first place. It was like standing next to the podium, just lucky enough to be included in the picture while Tashi and tennis took first and second place. And so you let him go.

'I'm not asking you to. This is different.'

Your hand slips from his face, and he forces his eyes open.

“Have you eaten?" you ask, stepping away in order to put some distance between the two of you and look for the granola bars that you keep especially for him. The gels were good sources of quick fuel in between sets, but they were hardly enough to even begin to make up for the calories he burned while playing.

Slowly, Art shakes his head, but he makes no move to take the snack from your hand when you offer it to him. Ever since his injury, nutrition became all the more important. So much to the point that every single thing that he consumed was mapped out to the exact calorie. Although he would never admit it, any sort of change in this routine made him incredibly anxious. Some days it was better not to cause him the anxiety than to force him.

Today, you insistently hold out the bar until he begrudgingly takes it from your hand. You don't move until you've seen him tear open the package and take a bite.

"Were you still feeling tight?" you ask as you walk around the table, stopping at the slouch of his turned back. You reach out to grasp at the joint of his neck and shoulder, your thumb smoothing over the kinesiology tape that's peeling away at the base of his neck.

He half turns his head to glance back at you. "You watched the match. You tell me."

His response is meant to be snippy, but it comes out more defeated than anything. To be fair, you've been his trainer long enough to know that if something was bothering him physically, you would have picked up on it.

"I want to hear it from you."

"I felt fine."

Your left hand follows suit on the other side of his neck, and you use both of your thumbs to apply pressure to what you assume will be a tense spot along the upper part of his traps. Predictably, Art groans at the attention. The muscles of his back contract as he fights the urge to shake you off. Relaxing the muscle hurts as much as it feels good. Besides his obvious discomfort, the rest of his body has gone lax under your touch. His shoulders have dropped at least an inch, and his chin has fallen to rest against his chest.

"Finish your granola bar," you reprimand him, your firm fingers working across his back until you find another spot that nearly has him jerking away. He releases a whine but obediently takes another bite of the bar. This time he finishes it before you have to remind him again.

You spend a few more minutes torturing him before you're satisfied that a majority of the tension has left his shoulders.

"Okay, good boy," you murmur, leaning forward so that your chest is close enough to brush against his back. One of your hands trails up to squeeze the back of his neck reassuringly.

You're close enough to hear him swallow at the name. The skin on the nape of his neck shivers despite how hot he still is from the match.

"Was I?" he asks timidly. "Good today?"

'I can be his coach. Or I can be the person he cries to after a bad day. But I can't be both. That's why he needs you."

Without removing your hand from his neck, you walk around the table so you're standing in front of him. Art widens the spread of his legs so that you can stand between them. His chin is still pressed to his chest, blue eyes focused on the ground.

"Art," is all you say, shifting your grip on his neck to tug lightly at his golden blonde hair. At your voice, he lifts his head just enough to look up at you through the pale wisps of his eyelashes. The irises of his blue eyes shine are wet with uncertainty.

Your fingers loosen their grip to allow your nails to scratch at his scalp. "You're good, Art. You'll always be good."

Art twists his head to nuzzle his cheek along the inside of  your outstretched arm. His lips kiss the crook of your elbow. He swallows again. "Even if I don't play tennis?"

You can tell the question's been bothering him, eating at his nerves, and messing up his game. You know him well enough to know that retirement isn't what he wants, not really. At least not right now. What he wants is the reassurance that it's going to be okay if he can't swing the comeback.

"Look at me."

He lingers a moment longer with his lips pressed lovingly against your skin before he reluctantly shifts his gaze up to you. His look is anticipatory but reserved, as if to preemptively conceal his disappointment should you choose to crush his heart with your answer.

His fear is understandable. Art's relationship with Tashi has always been entirely built off of his tennis career. By being the driving force behind his success, Tashi has vicariously lived out the life she would have had had her injury never happened. Without tennis, Art has nothing left to offer her. He knows that if he gives up tennis, he loses Tashi.

Your relationship with Art was a little less conditional. Hell, you'd been in love with him since the first time you'd laid eyes on him at Stanford. You can still picture him standing there on the court, barely nineteen, scrawny, nervous smile, backwards cap over his strawberry blonde hair. Before he was the Art Donaldson. But when Tashi had stepped into the picture, you figured that was where your fairytale ended.

"I don't love you because of tennis. I love you because you're kind, and thoughtful, and you're passionate about what you do." You smile a bit before adding, "And you're my good boy."

The name turns him bashful again, and he's quick to turn and hide his smiling face against your arm, only the flushed tips of his ears visible. "[Y/n]," he mumbles, likely meaning to be threatening, but it doesn't come out that way.

Art Donaldson lived to be praised.

You laugh, pulling him closer so that his face is held against your chest. The hand that you don't have threaded through his hair trails up the muscle of his defined quad. "You're my good boy. Aren't you, baby?"

Art whines, squirming when your hand reaches the apex of his thigh and hovers over the forming bugle of his shorts. He's not quite there yet, his dick only half chubbed up in interest, but given the day that he's had, you won't make him wait.

"Please?" he mumbles, his face still buried into your collarbone, as if attempting to curling into you, like a small child needing their parent to hold them for comfort.

You rake your nails lightly up the inside of his thigh. "What, baby?"

Not only did Art liked to be praised, but he was masochist even on his worst days.

"Want you to touch me," he mumbles, his voice muffled by your shirt. "Please."

Your hand still scratching through his hair, you press a kiss to the side of his head, unable to suppress your smile at his timid politeness and how it never seems to fail him. The only time he ever resembled anything remotely voracious was on the court.

Palm finding his tented shorts, you cup him through the fabric. Art responds immediately to your touch, his hips shifting further into your grasp. You continue to pet him through his shorts, appreciating the way you can feel him actively responding to your touch.

His nails dig into the padding of the treatment table when you give his now fully hard dick a less than sympathetic squeeze. His breath is hot as he pants against your collarbone, alternating between laving open mouthed kisses to your skin and whining when you pause fondling him just to feel his hips rut up into your palm.

Art was so in control on the tennis court, that often after a match, putting the control into someone else's hands was just what he needed.

When his hips start to stutter, you ease up but continue to stroke him through his shorts. The front of his shorts are damp with the musk of residual sweat and precum.

His breath is shallow—anticipatory.

"Gunna come?" you ask softly, speaking into the blonde mess of his hair, cradling him. He right there, you can tell by the lackluster buck of his hips, his building fatigue, and the change in his breathing.

"Can I? —Please?" Art asks breathily. He hiccups out the last part, his voice catching.

"You know you don't have to ask."

There's a brief pause, as if coming to the realization, before he meekly murmurs, "I know.

It should be sad really, his unwavering obedience, but there are two sides to Art, two polar extremes. On the court, every match, every set, every debilitating second is up to him. No one else can help him out there, and up until about a year ago, he played like it. That was the side of Art Donaldson that Tashi wanted. After the match is a different story. In private, Art needed someone to do the thinking for him, to pull him into a reality where he could believe that it didn't matter whether he won or lost. Tashi had not the sympathy nor the patience for that kind of fragility.

Art comes with a brief cry into your chest, his body arching into yours. Your hand palms at his pulsing dick until he's oversensitive and pulling away. When you relent, the front of his shorts are sticky and wet.

Finally, Art lifts his face from the safety of your chest. His blue eyes are glossed over, but it's an improvement from the detached look they held ten minutes ago. His cheeks are flushed, a mixture of his own embarrassment and satisfaction. 

You can't help the soft smile that creeps onto your face at the look of him, and immediately Art is abashedly trying to hide his face again, his own smile starting to appear. Before he can, you bring your hands back up to cradle his face, thumbs wiping away the wetness from under his eyes. This time he lets you.

His eyes study your face for a second, admiring you, appreciating the love he has for you.

“I don’t want to play tennis anymore.”

You can’t tell if it’s more of a statement or a confession. Either way, you know he’s telling you the absolute truth.

“Okay,” you reply softly, not hint of judgement in your voice. Maybe some disappointment, but that was understandable.

Retirement would be a kindness. Art would finally put back on some healthy weight, start smiling again, put on a real, actual smile. You could already see it, a nice house for the two of you to settle down in, with a picket fence and a dog in the backyard, the kind of things the two of you would have never had time for on tour.

Tennis had brought the two of you together, but it wouldn’t end you.

[erosastro]

🌷Composite risings🌷

Let’s talk about how each couple presents themselves for each rising sign in their composite chart.

*Disclaimer: These are my opinions, you don’t have to agree with them. And I’m aware not everyone agrees with the degree theory but I’ve personally seen a difference from degrees, so again, just my opinion and interpretation.

🌷Aries Rising (could also apply to Aries degrees 1°, 13° and 25°) - This couple is affectionate with each other. They’re passionate and can be competitive with one another, though if on the same team, they’re a force to be reckoned with. They probably enjoy recreational activities with each other. The couple that goes to the gym together, plays sports together, jump out of a plane together lol. They’re both young at heart with each other, even if they identify as old souls individually. They motivate each other to do better and step out of their comfort zones.

🌷Taurus Rising(could also apply to Taurus degrees 2°, 14° and 26°) - They’re so soft with each other and this relationship is filled with tenderness. They can be possessive of one another too(similar to Leo rising couples). They can tune out the world and just soak each other up. They can also be touchy feely with each other, the degree might also have impact here but if it does it won’t be to a great extent.

🌷Gemini Rising (could also apply to Gemini degrees 3°, 15° and 27°) - This is a couple that never runs out of things to talk about. Their favourite part of the day is getting to talk to one another. They inspire the other person. They could have a lot in common and share the same visions/goals. They can also be in their own bubble sometimes, especially if they get really into a topic or discussion and they tend to tease each other, very playful. This is the couple that can prank one another lol.

🌷Cancer Rising (could also apply to Cancer degrees 4°, 16° and 28°) - They have a soft spot for each other. There’s something about the other person that instantly makes them feel comfortable. They’re ones most likely to share nose nudges and butterfly kisses in public. So much PDA but at the same time they can keep a lot of their relationship private. There’s a good balance, in my opinion. They can be very affected by the other person’s mood too.

🌷Leo Rising (could also apply to Leo degrees 5°, 17° and 29°) - Oh this couple loves to show off. Whether it’s their relationship or the other person. There’s so much of PDA with this couple too, like Cancer Risings, but this PDA is like full on whereas the Cancer Risings can be a bit more tender and sweet. this is like grabbing each others ass in public lmao. It doesn’t make it less meaningful though! Power couple vibes.

🌷Virgo Rising (could also apply to Virgo degrees 6° and 18°) - I’ve seen so much of negativity surrounding this composite rising and could never understand why, because like cancer and Taurus risings, they’re so tender and sweet with each other. They’ll do anything for the other person they’re so supportive of one another. They likely are the couple that took a bit of time to get together but people could always tell there’s chemistry between them. They can be private but they can also be sweet with each other in public, perhaps not as much as Leo, but still can be affectionate nonetheless. I like this Ascendant for couples and platonic relationships. People don’t give this Rising enough credit and tend to say they’re boring and unassuming which I don’t necessarily think is true.

🌷Libra Rising (could also apply to Libra degrees 7° and 19°) - Ah the composite rising that gets the most hype, from what I’ve seen. I can understand why since it is Venusian and Libra rules seventh house of relationships. They are also affectionate with one another and tend to be the “It couple”. Everyone wants a relationship like theirs. Romantic with one another for sure. The only thing is that if this couple breaks up, it can turn ugly as seventh house also rules enemies; their relationship can turn really sour.

🌷Scorpio Rising (could also apply to Scorpio degrees 8° and 20°) - Unexpected couple, maybe. No one saw it coming. Their relationship is passionate and deep, but there can be a taboo aspect to their relationship. It doesn’t have to be that deep, perhaps an age gap thats not drastic. You’ll never know what goes on with this couple because they can be very private. I’ve noticed this couple can be awkward with each other at first for some reason? They can also be clingy once they do get into a relationship and it turns into something long term. As much as I’m not particularly fond of this couple, they really are so opened with one another if they do get past the awkwardness and initial fear.

🌷Sagittarius Rising (could also apply to Sagittarius degrees 9° and 21°) - This is the most similar to Aries Rising in my opinion and Gemini rising as well. They’re the couple that have so many inside jokes and like Gemini Rising, they always tease each other and are playful with each other. They love to go on adventures with one another and they can teach each other a lot, constantly pushing the other person to be the best versions of themselves. This couple could also come from very different backgrounds. I’ve noticed also with this Rising sign, a lot of people don’t expect that these two are together.

🌷Capricorn Rising (could also apply to Capricorn degrees 10° and 22°) - Another rising sign that gets so much of slack (like Virgo risings) and I don’t really agree with a lot of it. They may not be as affectionate as Leo risings or Cancer risings once again, but they’re each other’s rock. They can always rely on one another. This couple could be the “slow burn” type because neither person admits they have a crush on the other until later on. They are extremely private with their relationship though and can be protective of each other. Also can be a power couple though, especially to those who know the couple well.

🌷Aquarius Rising (could also apply to Aquarius degrees 11° and 23°) - ah the friends to lovers ascendant. I haven’t met or seen many Aquarius rising couples, majority of them are platonic. This doesn’t mean romantic relationships never work out though. This couple gives each other a lot of space and freedom to be independent but they love each other unconditionally and fully. There’s no judgement here. You can be fully yourself with the other person. If this does turn romantic, they are still always best friends first.

🌷Pisces Rising (could also apply to Pisces degrees 12° and 24°) - They bring out sides of the other person that they never knew they had. For example if you’re not really big on PDA, the person you share a Pisces rising with will bring out that side of you. There could be some aspect to this relationship that’s unusual too. They can get co-dependant though, I’ve noticed. Like they can’t do anything without the person by their side constantly. Regardless, there’s something about these couples that just seem to fit together.

*Personal favourite for platonic - Aquarius or Sagittarius, even Gemini

*Least favourite for platonic - Aries or Cancer

*Favourite for romantic - Cancer, Virgo or Leo (Gemini and Aries can work well too)

*Least favourite for romantic - Scorpio or Pisces

*Risings that can go either way - Capricorn, Aquarius and Pisces.

[alchemistc]

Part One

Oh, I've got plenty to be thankful for

I've got eyes to see with

Ears to hear with

Arms to hug with

Lips to kiss with

Someone to adore

-bing crosby

He keeps waiting for someone to say something. To accuse him of lingering where he doesn't belong, or remind him he'd never actually made it all the way in. To tell him to go home, maybe get a halfhearted promise to let him know how Buck is at some point.

Maddie lays an exhausted head on his shoulder and Bobby sneaks him a slice of pumpkin pie he's apparently been hiding in the tote at his feet. Hen tosses him a power bank with a lightning cord and Karen makes a joke about his holiday attire.

When the coffee comes, Howie takes the trip to the lobby with him, pulls out his wallet and does his damnedest to strong arm Tommy into letting him tip the haggard looking girl another twenty bucks on top of the fifty Tommy'd figured was appropriate for having to balance a literal stack of hot beverages from the parking lot on Thanksgiving. She eyes them both with a smile and Tommy is more compelled the grab the drink carriers from her tired arms than stop Howie.

They're halfway back when Howie purposely slows his pace, and Tommy fights the urge to pick his up and avoid whatever's coming down on him. "So. Was this the wake up call you needed, or can I expect Buck to order a freezer on a Black Friday deal for my garage to store more baked goods?"

He doesn't know what that means.

He can extrapolate, though. "He's been baking?"

"Tommy, I cannot stress enough exactly how much he's been baking."

He'd tried his hand at a few things here and there, but Tommy's used to experimental chef Evan Buckley, not baking Evan Buckley. To be fair, if he'd seen Evan working a KitchenAid, apron tied loose and flour on a cheekbone, Tommy doubts he'd have actually had the time to finish whatever he had planned. That was then, of course.

"What was he doing on that trail, Howie?" That, too, he could maybe extrapolate. He doesn't want to, but he could.

Howie eyes him. Uses his free arm to elbow Tommy in the ribs. "You were the first person he ever invited to a 118 Thanksgiving, you know. My guess? He wasn't in the mood to be reminded of it while there was no room in the oven to bake away his feelings."

Yeah.

Jax had been over the moon when Tommy offered to take his shift, no trades necessary. What would the point have been, when Christmas and New Year's would be unbooked too?

Evan had bribed like six different people to ensure they'd be able to swing dinner on the day. Hobbes had sounded so thrilled to hear Tommy asking for the time off that he'd approved it without even looking at the shift.

"I'm just warning you in advance. The grovelling process is gonna involve eating your weight in loaves, most likely."

And that's that, apparently. No heavy handed warnings, no suspicion about why Tommy hasn't fucked off yet. Like it's some foregone conclusion that Tommy's not gonna panic and bolt a second time. Nothing has changed, yet Tommy gets the feeling they're all expecting some tearful reunion and a return to TommyandBuck.

Tommy slips the tea into Maddie's hands and watches her sniff it in distaste, which is an interesting nugget he'll have to revisit later if -

If.

There's no guarantees, here. That Tommy will be able to articulate how fucking terrified he is, that Evan will understand it. That the two of them will find a way through it together. All he has to go on is a solo hike on a day Evan should have been with family, an apparent bakery full of feelings spread between the 118, and the quiet calm that had washed over him when Eddie prompted him to make a decision.

Feet to the fire, he'd stayed.

---

Maddie's pregnant. It hits him between the eyes right around hour three of sit-and-wait. He's not an idiot, or a fool, and he hasn't spoken to any of these people in weeks so he's not going to announce it to the world, but somewhere in between the sporadic naps on Tommy's shoulder and the way she is attempting (failing) to power through her now cold tea makes him think. She and Bobby had driven here, and it's clear everyone else had been indulging. Maddie's no lush, but he's seen her knock back half a bottle of wine before when she's got nowhere to be.

She excuses herself to the bathroom for a third time, looking a little green, and Tommy ends up locked in a staring contest with Howie that only ends when Tommy mimes zipping his lips.

He still hasn't gotten the story about Eddie and why he's not here.

Bobby and Athena are apparently closing in on a new house.

Howie is less than a year away from having a second kid.

Athena's kids are apparently at Howie and Maddie's, attempting to keep Mara and Jee from destroying the house in the absence of adults.

And Tommy wants.

Wanting has never really been the problem, though. Wanting is the easy part. Wanting doesn't get him over the hurdle of knowing he's not enough. For Evan, for this family he's built that just keeps growing bigger and bigger. It'd been a relief, those first few days after, not to have to wonder which member of the 118 would land in the hospital next, not to have to rearrange something else on his schedule because Evan was convinced he was cursed, or Eddie'd had another shitty call with Christopher.

The relief hadn't lasted. A week in, he'd stayed up all night demolishing the half-bath off his dining room, because he'd been putting it off for months and he'd nearly texted Evan something that was startlingly revealing and left him exposed on all sides. Two weeks in he'd finished grouting the backsplash in his kitchen. And in between, he wondered how Eddie was doing, if he'd made any progress with his son. He'd wondered if Maddie enjoyed the bottle of wine they'd brought back from a spur of the moment trip to Napa. He'd wondered how Nash was doing, if he was readjusting to having his crew and his station back. He wondered how Hen and Karen were, how many things Denny had already gotten stuck in his cast trying to ease an itch.

He'd wondered, and he'd sat in it, and then he'd rewired the shoddy work an electrician had done in his spare room that he kept telling himself he'd get around to.

The wanting never goes away. He just finds new places to put it when he starts to care too much.

"Kinard and Buckley?"

Maddie's still in the restroom. Tommy - has no fucking clue why the nurse is staring at them like they'll just materialize the right people. She sucks in her lips and gives him a dead eyed stare before her eyes dart to his chest. More specifically, the nameplate on his chest.

Tommy blinks.

---

The having is where he's always floundered. Things are temporary. People are temporary. He's always been borrowing. Borrowing time, attention, affection.

For a few months there, he'd really started to think he could handle the having. That he'd get to keep it.

---

"I'm Buckley, he's Kinard," Maddie says from somewhere over his left shoulder, and he turns in time to see her adjusting her jacket, wiping at her lip. She stabilizes, looking unfazed, and stands tall. As tall as she can, at least. "You have news about my brother?"

The nurse glances around the room. No one is bothering to pretend not to be listening. Maddie hovers a wave behind her.

"Ignore the audience, we're all waiting with bated breath to see how obnoxious my brothers going to be. It depends entirely on whether or not he gets pie tonight."

She gives them all a disapproving look. This must not be one of their normal nurses.

Christ. They have normal nurses.

"Well, no pie tonight, but he should be able to eat a sandwich in the morning."

He's fine. He's fine.

Tommy knew going in that most of his injuries were superficial. The ribs had been a concern but with the pain meds and the collar he hadn't really had a chance to exacerbate those injuries. There's no reason he should feel quite so relieved to know that Evan will have a few annoying splints to work around and he'll probably need to rehab his ankle for a couple weeks once it's healed. The concussion isn't ideal, and he'll need help for a few days, but he's fine.

Tommy can feel the tears building.

"He'll likely be out for a few more hours, but I'll let you know when he's set up in a room. Two visitors at a time," she warns. "The concussion will effect his response time. Don't be surprised if he doesn't remember much, loses his train of thought."

Hen shifts somewhere behind him. It feels a bit like she's being held back from correcting the nurse about the normal side effects.

Things move on around him. The nurse leaves, Hen passes a Stanley cup around that definitely isn't filled with water, the normal sigh of relief is released while Maddie drops into the seat next to him with a groan, the team has a strange competition around him to battle for visitor position.

Tommy breathes.

I should go, Tommy thinks to himself, as half the people in the room raise their phones.

His own phone vibrates against his thigh.

A message from Howie, time stamped two minutes - Tommy squints to make sure - two minutes ago, an update on Evan. Another from Eddie reminding them all to give Buck a patent Eddie look from him while they were giving him shit. A selfie of Eddie, with Christopher somewhat reluctantly bending into the picture over his shoulder.

In another thread, he's got three messages from Eddie.

If I have to remove you from this group I'm sending my kid after you with his crutches.

You guys hiked Griffith Park for your Not-A-One-Month-Anniversary-We-Swear date, right?

Send Buck my love. Not like that, though.

Tommy sends back: When the fuck did he add me to his emergency contacts? and then decides he doesn't want to know anyway so he turns off his phone.

---

Maddie goes alone, and Tommy spends the time alternating between tapping his foot against the tile to distraction, and clamping his hand over his knee in an attempt to stop the tapping.

Bobby and Athena go next, then Hen and Karen. Then they're pulling on jackets and promising to save a plate for Buck.

Howie slips away for a few minutes and then returns, looking amused. "You think everyone else got the same greeting?" he asks his wife, who grins tiredly at him, pats his wrist. Her gaze turns to Tommy.

"Should we stay?"

That's a trap of a question. That's an assumption Tommy doesn't have a clue how to handle. He clears his throat. Shakes a few curls loose.

"What makes you think he'd want me to?"

Maddie's perfected the unimpressed eyebrow. It must be a parent thing.

Tommy barely holds in the sigh. "Go enjoy your meal."

---

Evan's been watching the door. It's clear the moment Tommy makes it to the threshold - he presses up, winces, tips sideways just enough to peek around the corner.

"Tommy," he says, and his expression melts.

Tommy's heard some iteration of that name a million times. Tom, from his dad. Tommy, fond and quiet from his mother, who'd never really learned how to speak up before she was gone. Thomas, in school, from teachers annoyed that he wouldn't just apply himself.

He was Kinard, to teammates, then fellow soldiers, to the firefighters he'd worked alongside for a decade before he ever let any of them know him.

No one says his name with quite so much reverence as Evan Buckley. He's convinced himself, over the last few weeks, that he'd been hearing adulation in that tone. But now it just sounds...relieved. Happy.

Evan slumps back and tries to cross his arms in a pout. There are too many cords and wires attached to him for it to work. "I'm pretty sure I'm mad at you," he says, and Tommy steps over the threshold.

---

Hobbes sounds fucking thrilled to find out he's going to be down a pilot for five days.

Evan throws a fit when he finds out Tommy's plan is to sleep on his own couch for the short duration of Evan's stay. Evan wins the proceeding argument and doesn't even complain that Tommy hadn't argued too hard

Bobby brings over enough leftovers to keep them in turkey sandwiches for a week, and Tommy doesn't think to ask how he got Tommy's address.

Tommy breathes. Tommy thinks. Once Evan can hold a train of thought for more than five minutes, Tommy talks.

Evan listens.

---

"So no Christmas," Evan pouts, and Tommy wants to bite it. "And no New Year's."

Tommy shifts a hand over his shoulder, tucks his chin over top of it so he can't see the pout anymore. "We were both already working those anyway."

"Do people do anything to celebrate Presidents Day?"

"Evan."

"Tommy," Evan mocks, and pulls far enough away to catch his gaze. "In the interest of transparency that was mostly a cover so I didn't ask about Valentine's Day."

"Is this you not asking about Valentine's Day?"

His smile is deceptively sweet. "I need help with my sandwich."

Tommy's seen him balancing a glass of water, his phone, two books and a takeout bag in his one good hand. He's absolutely full of shit.

Tommy leans forward to grab the sandwich off Evan's plate for him.

---

"You should stay," Tommy says, an hour after midnight two days into the new year. He's tipsy on his second glass of cheap champagne and he can't think of a reason to keep this in, anymore. Evan crinkles a brow at him.

"I... wasn't planning to go?"

There's a gold crown perched in his curls, and Tommy still hasn't taken the cheap plastic 2025 glasses off. The house is quiet, and there'd been shockingly few fires started by fireworks this year, so he's less tired than he'd expected to be.

"I meant -." Tommy starts, and then pauses. "I meant permanently. You should live here."

Evan laughs. Takes a bite out of his cake, and rolls his eyes, and then...stops. His entire body stills. "What."

It's ridiculous. The very thing that had pushed Tommy up out of his seat just a few months ago, sent him out the loft door with wet eyes and a heaviness in his heart.

"Tommy," Evan prompts, and Tommy catches the hand frozen on the countertop. He'd planned to hold this back, wait until something significant or poignant. But Evan had baked them a red velvet cake and argued with him the entire drive back from dinner about the proper way to fold a towel, and Tommy's tired of denying this isn't everything he's refused to let himself want for decades.

"You don't have to say yes just to confirm you're not breaking up with me," he tries to joke, and it falls flat.

"Tommy," Evan murmurs, quieter but more insistent.

"I'm serious. I want you here. I want -."

"Yes," Evan says, and squeezes his hand before he ducks his head bashfully. "Sorry. Continue."

"I want a life with you." The tears tickle at the back of his throat. He's gonna fucking cry, again. He'd always fucking known opening himself up to this was just an invitation for more tears in his life.

He can't quite convince himself the rest doesn't make them worth it.

"Yes. Again. Tommy, of course." He tips his chin. Purses his lips. "If you're sure."

Tommy swallows down the lump in his throat. He's never been more sure or more terrified of anything in his life. So he tells him so.

The words are like knives, but he works his way through the soreness, fights up past the fear that he's not sure will ever completely go away, and claws past the reminder that it's been a blink of an eye since Tommy walked out on this.

"Well. You can't walk out of your own house," Evan points out when he's finished, and of all things, it's that that snaps the tension of for once in his life prioritizing something other than fucking survival. He tips a grin, curls his elbow to bring their entwined hands to his lips. "It's gonna take years to coordinate another Thanksgiving with everyone," he bemoans, looking suspiciously watery-eyed himself as he holds Tommy's own wet gaze.

Tommy can extrapolate from that.

[puckinghischier]

so the clip of quinn asking the producer if his hair looks good, we’ve all seen it, right? cause i’m just thinking about it and how yeah it was probably a joke, but it’s sooooo insecure!quinn coded. like i’m sure he was nervous, and he really did want to look good for the camera. and it’s got me thinking about what it would be like to comfort insecure!quinn (i didn’t mean for this to be this long but i couldn’t stop once i started so here’s basically a three in one blurb 🫣)

it’s even things as simple as his pre-game outfits. he’s seen all the comments online about how he only wears the same few suits, so one day while you’re on the couch watching tv, he turns to you and asks if you’ll go shopping with him. of course you agree, but you ask him what’s got him so eager to expand his wardrobe.

“just…people keep saying i’m wearing the same thing all the time and it has me thinking i should probably go buy a couple more suits to wear for arrival pictures and stuff,” he shrugs, almost whispering, telling you it’s something he’s slightly embarrassed about.

you reach over and run your hand through his hair, playing with the messy curls. “q, who cares if you wear the same suit every game day? you’re wearing it to walk in the building and out of it,” you speak softly to him, noticing he’s not meeting your eye. “but, if you want to go pick up a few more, i’d love to go with you and help you pick them out,” you tug lightly on his hair to get him to look over at you, bringing your hand down to toy with the tip of his ear.

he gives you a bashful smile, mumbling out a small “thanks,” before looking away again.

you lean over, replacing your hand on his ear with your mouth. “plus, you know how much i love looking at you in a suit,” you let your lips drag over the warm skin. “almost as much as i love looking at you without one on.”

quinn shudders at the feeling of your hot breath on his ear, making him forget what he was even thinking about before the current conversation.

~

of course, quinn’s constantly worried about being a good captain for his team, too. he doesn’t think he’s played long enough to earn it yet, not understanding why they picked him over some of the vets on the team.

so when he comes home after a particularly rough practice or a brutal loss, you can feel the insecurity radiating off of his body. the game that eliminated them from the playoffs, though? god, you never want to relive it.

he laid in your arms for hours, switching between crying and getting angry at himself. he kept telling you it was his fault. he was the reason they didn’t make it. they should’ve chosen a different person to be captain, not him. he clearly didn’t know what he was doing, or they’d be celebrating tonight instead.

you know that most of this is caused by the questions he was asked after the game. one reporter in particular always asking the worst questions and getting under his skin. but you’re sure the group of drunk, upset fans outside of the rink who were yelling discouraging things to him only drove the knife deeper.

the way he talked about himself with so much disgust broke your heart in a way you never knew was possible. you knew he was always hardest on himself, but the fact he truly believes these things makes you worry you haven’t been doing your job correctly.

“quinn, i don’t ever want to hear you talk about yourself like that again, do you hear me?” you sat up, talking sternly but not harshly.

“well, it’s true. if they would’ve just picked someone else then-“

“stop!” you interrupted him, your sudden loudness causing him to pause, looking at you with wide eyes. “i’m sorry, i’m not trying to yell at you, but i’m not going to sit here and listen to you do this to yourself any longer,” you put just a few inches of distance between you and him on the large couch.

“you’re exactly who they wanted to lead this team or they wouldn’t have chosen you. you do have what it takes. hell, quinn, you got the team to the playoffs for the first time in 4 years. that has to count for something,” the tone of your voice is almost pleading, begging him to take what you’re saying to heart.

“your teammates love you. they look up to you. the fans love you. they were excited when you were named captain. i love you,” you take a moment, watching his face slowly change from distress to calm. “and i won’t sit here and listen to you say awful things about the man that i love. not for something that changes nothing about how i feel about you or your value as the captain of your team,” you finish, a knot forming in your throat because of how deeply you feel about the man sitting in front of you.

quinn just sits and looks at you, finally snapped out of his self destruct mode. “i…love you so much, you know that?” he tells you before pulling you into him and engulfing you in one of his ‘huggybear’ hugs.

“you’re right. i’m here because i deserve to be. and if you believe in me, who cares what anyone else thinks? i’ve got the best motivation right here in front of me,” he speaks into your neck, squeezing you tightly to his body, like he’s trying to press you into his skin, knowing he can always count on you to talk him out of his insecurities.

~

you get the rare moments, too, where quinn starts comparing himself to his brothers. you’d think as the oldest he’d know better, knowing that the two younger boys have always looked up to him, but once the media started trying to pit the three against each other, the seed of doubt crept its way into his thoughts.

it’s not even just about hockey, either. it’s the way jack is always so outgoing, the life of the party. and luke always seems so universally adored, his bashful charm winning him over with crowds.

quinn? quinn feels like he’s just…there. he can’t strike up a conversation as naturally as jack can. and his shyness seems to only drive people away, not draw people in, like luke’s.

and yeah, quinn knows you’re always there with him, keeping him company and being his buffer in all of the various social settings he finds himself in, but he can’t help but wish he was a little bit more like his brothers.

especially right now, when he’s sitting by the fire pit at the family lake house, a few of brother’s shared friends over for the weekend.

he’s sitting in a chair sipping on a beer, watching you partake in a heated game of beer pong with jack, luke, trevor, and cole. all day he’s felt a little…less than. watching you on the boat earlier dancing around to your favorite song with jack, not worrying about who might float by and see the two of you.

or when you were helping prep dinner, and trevor came up to you and struck up a conversation, talking a mile a minute while you kept up with and soaked up every word, adding to the conversation with just as much enthusiasm at the drop of a hat.

or right now, when cole is picking you up and swinging you around after you just won the drinking game, launching into your ‘secret’ handshake the two of you coined a few summers ago.

he wishes he could give you those things. the loud, crazy, fun atmosphere you seem to thrive in. he wishes he could be the guy to parade you around at all of the hockey banquets, introducing you to various people. he wants to dress up with you on halloween in the ridiculous couples costumes you always show him. to be the spontaneous boyfriend that goes diving off of the small cove cliffs on the lake like you love to do with jack.

but that’s just…not who he is. he likes to be quiet, observant, lowkey, private. he likes to listen to other people carry the conversation, and just chime in when he has something to add. he likes to drive the boat and watch everyone else splash around in the water, jumping in for a few minutes just to cool off before resuming his position on the driver’s seat. he hates going to the bar after games with his teammates, but agrees because he knows you like dressing up and going out.

he loves when the two of you spend time reading together on the couch, then order dinner in and watch a movie before bed. he likes the fact that the two of you can sit in silence, both comfortable enough to not feel the need to fill the space with empty conversation. he likes being able to come home to you after the loud environment of the game to the sweet whisper of your voice, because you know how he likes the soft tone after the arena full of screams and sirens.

but he can’t help but feel like he’s causing you to be less for him, seeing how much life you seem to have in times like these.

he’s broken out of his little pity party when you come running over to him. “quinny!! did you see that! we won! i won!” you fling your half-drunk self down onto his lap, beaming your beautiful smile to him.

“i did. looked like you were having fun,” he says with a smile, but his tone is flat.

he watches your smile fade slightly, cocking your head at him. “you okay?” you ask him, always able to tell when something’s not right in that mysterious brain of his.

“yeah, m’just tired. might head in early,” he tells you, drumming his fingers along the tanned skin of your leg, signaling he’s about to stand up.

“okay…well then i’ll go with you. just gotta tell the guys goodnight first,” you respond skeptically, removing yourself from his lap as he stands.

“no, no, don’t wanna ruin your fun. just come to bed when you’re done, yeah? don’t drink too much, sweetheart,” quinn shakes his head, placing a kiss on the top of your head before turning and walking away from you, leaving you confused.

you watch quinn walk up the stone steps, stopping in the dimly lit kitchen to hover over the sink for a few moments, staring out the window looking over the dark lake. you can tell by his body language something is bothering him, so you turn and walk over to tell the rest of the group that you’re heading to bed, ignoring their protests of ‘you’re no fun! quinn’s made you boring!’ with a playful show of your middle finger as you walk away, following quinn’s same path.

quinn’s so lost in thought he doesn’t hear the kitchen door open or the soft pad of your footsteps walking towards him, only breaking out of his trance when he feels your hands make their way around his torso and your body pressed against his back.

“whatcha thinking about?” you ask him, placing a small kiss to the middle of his back through his thin t-shirt.

“nothing,” he tells you, his tone not convincing you. “why aren’t you out there defending your title?” he turns around so he’s facing you, resting his own hands on your waist.

“because something has you locked in that pretty head of yours, and i intend to find out why my boyfriend is sad,” you tell him in that soft tone of voice he loves, not wasting any time getting to the bottom of his odd mood.

quinn’s cheeks involuntarily flush, always having loved when you call him pretty. but before you can admire him too much he closes his eyes and throws his head back, sighing, not wanting to talk about how pathetic he is.

“you’ll just think it’s silly and pointless,” he confesses, knowing you won’t concede until you pry it out of him.

“try me,” you tell him as he looks down at you, seeing the cocked eyebrow and look of determination on your face.

he’s silent for a few seconds, trying to figure out how to explain it to you without making you feel like you did something wrong, because he knows you’ll immediately start picking apart what you could’ve possibly done to make him feel like this. but it’s not you, it’s his problem.

you continue to look at him with love in your eyes, silently encouraging him.

“it’s just…” he starts then pauses again, bringing a hand up to toy with your low ponytail. “do you…ever…y’know, wish i was different? more like jack? or trevor?” he finally gets the words out, shock taking over your features.

he watches your eyes go from loving, to surprised, to sad.

“quinn, what? no. never,” you tell him, shaking your head so vigorously he’s worried you’ll make yourself dizzy.

he brings his hands up to stop the movement of your head, leaving his soft hands there, thumbs caressing your cheeks.

“it’s just…i see how you are around them. how…full of life you are,” he watches your mouth open and close, like you want to interrupt him but thought better of it. “and i can’t help but wonder if you’re missing out because of me,” he shrugs, removing his hands from your face to let them rest in half fists on your shoulders, a sad smile on his face.

reaching up to grab his hands and hold them in both of yours, you shake them a bit to get him to look at you.

“i’m not missing out on anything, do you hear me?” you tell him with such seriousness in your voice he’s almost worried you’re mad. “they’re a good time, yeah, but they’re not you, q.”

still not convinced, quinn let’s his doubt control his thoughts again. “i just know that they’re more your speed. they like to go out and party and have fun and i…don’t,” he can’t meet your eyes, not wanting to see the sadness settled there.

“with them you’re always talking and can be loud and spontaneous like i know you like to do. but with me it’s always whispers and quiet and hiding away in corners or at home. i don’t do silly dances with you in the boat without caring who might see or have a secret handshake when we win beer pong. i sit on the couch and read in silence. i sit in the corner and watch everyone else have fun when we go out because i don’t want videos of me all over the internet,” he continues, his tone growing more frustrated with each word spoken.

“i just don’t want you to wake up one day and realize you’ve wasted all this time with some boring guy who only wants to sit at home and only goes out when he has to or when you want to, not because he enjoys it,” he finishes, nearly shaking with vulnerability.

his words are a knife straight into your heart, not wanting to believe he really feels this way about himself.

“oh quinny,” you bring your hands up to cup his face, wiping at the moisture forming in his grey eyes.

he gives you a weak smile, turning his head to kiss your open palm, closing his eyes at the comfort your skin on his always brings him.

“i need you to know, that i love you, quinn hughes. i love you so much it hurts me sometimes. like, physically pains me. i look at you and i feel like my chest could literally bust open with how deeply i feel about you. and not just when things are good. all the time. every day. even when we’re fighting. even when you’re sad. even when you leave your socks stuffed in the creases of the couch,” you tell him, earning a small, wet laugh, because he knows how much you hate that poor habit of his.

“i love you when we’re sitting in silence on the couch because you just got home from a game and need a noise break. i love you when we’ve been reading for hours, the only sound between us the turning pages of our books. i love you when we’re sitting in the corner of the bar because you don’t want to be the center of attention when someone buys the team a round. i love you when you’re watching me be crazy and drunk on the boat because you want to make sure someone is sober and everyone is safe. i love you when you’re ‘boring’ because to me, you’re never boring,” you confess to him, feeling the small tear slip out of your left eye and down your cheek, matching quinn’s.

“you’re the person that i love with everything that i have in me. the one that brings me home whatever books i’ve been talking about wanting to read during our marathons on a random afternoon just because you were thinking about it. the person that sacrifices his alone time away from his team, and just hockey in general, to go to banquets and events because you know i enjoy those things sometimes. you’re the person that always watches my favorite silly shows with me, no matter how stupid they are. my personal chef, my human teddy bear, my best friend,” you whisper the last words, sniffling, noticing quinn’s eyes are now closed tightly.

“because even though i do enjoy being loud and rowdy sometimes, i enjoy being with you, more. i enjoy the quiet and the slowness of life with you. the time we get to spend together without distractions or expectations. so no, i don’t wish you were more like jack, or trevor, or luke, or cole, or whoever. because you’re like quinn, which is exactly who i want you to be,” your voice finally goes quiet, bringing your forehead to rest against his, hoping your words are enough to convince him that his insecurities are just that. they hold no weight and have no truth to them.

the two of you simply soak in each other’s presence, neither one daring break the intimacy of the words hanging in the air.

when quinn finally opens his eyes and leans his head back, he lets out a shaky breath.

“tell me not to get down on one knee and propose to you right now,” he tells you, a slight joking tone to his voice, earning a small chuckle from you.

“way to do a complete 180,” you joke back, once again tangling your hands in his hair.

he huffs out a small laugh, tilting his head back before brining it back up to look at you.

“thank you,” he breaths out. “i don’t know how i got so in my head, but all day i watched you have fun and i don’t know. i got lost for a bit.”

you lean forward to place a small peck on the tip of his nose, watching him scrunch it slightly in response.

“well, luckily for you, i’ll always be here to come in there and find you, bringing you back out here to me,” you tap your finger along his temple.

“luckiest in the world,” he beams down at you.

[enmi-land]

ʬʬʬ 𝓨OUTUBE.COM ▹ NOW PLAYiNG . . .

ⓘ MiLA AND HER FAVOURiTE OPPA . . .

(˶ˆᗜˆ˵) FANMADE ViDEO. #2O24. ꗃ PREViEW A compilation of Mila being babygirl for Jay.

CLIP 1, INTERVIEW

for context: mila and kiara were asked who they thought the most manly member is in the group

“Uhhh, I don’t know about that.” Kiara laughs awkwardly at the idea. “I’m older than almost all of them, and I grew up with Heeseung since we were kids, so it’s hard to say. I don’t really… you know?”

“Ah, fair enough. They’re kind of like younger brothers, right? That would be awkward.” The interview nods in understanding when Kiara confirms. “In that case, what about Mila? Maybe not for the younger members, but you must have thought about your oppas, right?”

“Well…” Mila laughs shyly as her members all turn to face her. “They all have their charms. But when I think of the word ‘masculine,’ the first person I think of is none other than my Jay-oppa.”

The interviewer is surprised when Engenes watching the interview live start to scream at the top of their lungs. “Oooooh! I see—Jay seems very happy about this.”

The focus is now on Jay, who is smiling widely beside Mila while she hides her face behind her hand in embarrassment.

me and the ghost in my room: [*Theo slapping Keeho on the shoulder*]

“Now I’m curious. What makes you pick Jay, of all the members?”

“Well,” Mila says shyly, avoiding Jay’s gaze as he stares softly at her. “Ever since we met, he’s taken very good care of me—not that the other members don’t, but sometimes we have those times where we tease each other and all of that stuff. You know?”

The interviewer nods. “You like to play around, yes? Close friends who tease each other.”

Mila nods strongly. “Exactly like that! Jay-oppa isn’t like that, though. He’s a real gentleman. He’s always very gentle, and soft-spoken, and patient. He’s like the type of person people want their daughters to marry...”

And then Mila proceeds to hide her face behind Jay as Engenes go wild over their interaction. All the while, Jay can’t help the absolutely whipped look on his face as he smiles like an idiot.

[*Close up of Jay*] [“Boy who got you smiling like that?”]

CLIP 2, COMPILATION

to give you an idea of mila’s favouritism, let’s see the difference between mila with each of the 02z mila with jakehoon:

K-NEXT DOOR

“I was watching some of your clips, and I noticed something interesting,” Jonathan says. “Mila, you’re a 03-liner, right?”

Mila blinks. “Yes, that’s right.”

Jonathan turns to Jake. “Jake, you’re a 02-liner.”

Jake nods.

“In that case… Mila—why don’t you call Jake ‘oppa’?”

Mila bursts out laughing as if she’s just heard the funniest thing in her life, before she composes herself and turns to Jonathan. “Well, for one, we’re both foreigners and speak English when we’re alone. I got used to calling him by name, so it feels weird to call him oppa. And for another, it feels weird to call him my oppa when he doesn’t act like one.”

Jake looks at Mila in absolute shock as Jonathan’s jaw drops. Heeseung and Jungwon giggle among themselves, and Jake nods solemnly at the camera with his lips pressed into a thin line.

[*Close up of Jake with raining overlay*] [“Gwenchana, gwenchana, daeng daeng daeng daeng daeng.”]

WEVERSE LIVE

“The other day, I realised that I’m only three months younger than Sunghoonie-oppa,” Mila says all of a sudden. “Isn’t that so weird? I might as well be his friend, but he’s still considered my elder because he’s born in 2002. It’s so unfair…”

Mila pouts as she reads comments. “‘Just don’t call him ‘oppa’?” Mila laughs. “Right. I should just call him ‘Sunghoon-ssi’ from now on, haha. Or ‘Sunghoon-hyung.’ Can you imagine his expression? It would be funny…”

Mila bursts out laughing as she reads a comment.

“‘Just call him Sunghoon’? Yahhh, you’re trying to get me in trouble.” Mila looks thoughtful for a second after she says this. “But then again, I don’t really care if it’s Sunghoonie-oppa. He can just be mad at me, for all I care.”

She leans towards the camera with a cheeky smile.

“Should I do it, everyone?”

spoiler alert: she does it [*Compilation of Mila saying ‘Sunghoon-ssi’*]

[*Close up of Sunghoon’s reactions*] [“I never found you funny, I never found you entertaining—”]

[*Spongebob Narration* ‘Meanwhile’*] mila with jay:

EN-LOG

Mila is in the middle of eating at a restaurant when she receives a call. She looks at her phone to see who it is, and lights up when she sees the contact. She gasps excitedly. “Everyone, it's Jay-oppa!”

She shows her phone to the screen to see the contact which she saved him under: ‘the bestest oppa 😇’

(This is before they even date, mind you.)

[*Close up of Mila’s phone*] “THE BESTEST OPPA” 🤭✨

[*Cardi B squinting* “That’s suspicious, that’s weird.”]

She picks up the call and holds it to hear ear. In a cutesy voice that is out of character for Mila, she leans back in her chair and smiles, completely forgoing her food. “Hello?”

“What are you doing?” Jay asks.

“I’m just having lunch now.” Mila reaches up to twirl a strand of hair around her finger. “How about Oppa?”

mila whenever jay: [*Nayeon tucking her hair behind her ear*]

Jay hums. “That’s good. I came across a new chocolate store just now. I’m going to take a look now. Do you want me to buy you anything?”

[EN-Log captions: ‘Jay-oppa is too good to me ❤️’]

And from there, the two have a sweet phone call, with Mila looking like a giddy teenage girl as she talks.

“Mmm, okay,” Mila says as they reach the end of their call, but not without a pout. “I’ll let you go, then.”

“Get back home safely, okay? Call if you need anything.” Jay’s voice is soft, and Mila is smiling as she assures him that she will do as he says. “You hang up first.”

[EN-Log captions: ‘Jay-oppa, why are you so sweet to me? I’ll cry :(’]

Mila giggles. “Okay, okay. Bye bye~” She still smiles at her phone, even after she hangs up. She then turns to the camera and smiles. “Everyone, isn't my Jay-oppa the sweetest?”

“MY JAY-OPPA” 😫

jakehoon watching this: [“I just wanna be appreciated! I wanna be appreciated!”]

CLIP 3, WEVERSE LIVE

“‘Jay, will you marry me’?!”

[*Boom*]

Mila is flabbergasted after she reads out the comment, and looks up at the camera with a look of absolute incredulous indignation. Jay simply laughs at her expression. “Why, why? What’s with your expression?”

“No!” Mila says with a huff. “You can’t marry him!”

Jay looks amused as Mila glares at the camera, trying to intimidate. “Shouldn’t I have a say?”

“You can’t.” Mila latches onto his arm, resting her cheek on his shoulder. “There’s only one Jay-oppa in the world, everyone else can go find their own.”

[“Hold up! Wait a minute! Something’s not right!”][*Mirage effect*]

mila when engenes ask to marry ni-ki [*Mila saying, “Haha. Good luck with that. He’s a lot to handle.”*]

mila now: [*Mirage effect*]

“But you have to share with Engenes,” Jay says amusedly.

Mila turns to him with a pout and a signature pair of babydoll eyes that she always seems to wear around him—and which he’ll always fold to. “Tell them to ask someone else.”

🤨 [*Dwayne Johnson raising an eyebrow*]

Jay simply chuckles and turns to the camera. “Sorry, I can’t get married to you because our Mila doesn’t approve. You have to ask someone else to be your husband.” He looks back down at Mila. “Happy?”

Mila nods. She then proceeds to continue clinging onto his arm for the rest of the live, resting her cheek on his shoulder as she looks at her with a gaze that could melt butter.

🦋🦋🦋

CLIP 4, COMPILATION

This is basically just Mila getting shy and avoiding Jay’s gaze whenever she makes eye contact with him. It’s like she physically can’t handle looking into his eyes or she’ll be sucked into a vacuum.

mila when jay looks at her: [“Oh no, I hope I don’t fall.”]

CLIP 5, COMPILATION

proof that mila is jay’s baby part 298192: she always runs to jay when she needs something

EN-TER KEY

Mila realises she made a mistake during monitoring and looks at the camera. “I messed up…”

She doesn’t seem bothered by it because she laughs. But as a few seconds pass, she seems visibly worried as she avoids eye contact with the camera and looks away more than once, as if to use her face.

(This was during a period of time not longer after debut, where she was receiving immense hate for supposedly debuted without any talent.) 

But then she seems to crack and turns her back to the camera, before making a beeline in a certain direction. As the cameraman follows her, they end up finding Jay, who is seated on a couch in the dressing room.

He immediately stands up upon seeing Mila, and worriedly asks her what’s wrong. He opens his arms to her and she immediately walks into his embrace, burying her face in his shoulder.

He brings a hand to her head and whispers something in her ear which the cameras don’t catch. But its clear that he’s doing his best to cocker her and shield her from the camera’s view.

EN-DIARIES

Mila is tasked with the mission of giving a member a makeover, which she complains will be entirely impossible to do for any of them. But then she decides to approach Jay, and follows him around the place, asking him (and only him) for help.

“Oppa, can you help me just this once?” Mila grabs onto his sleeve and tugs it to her. “Please?”

Jay pretends to ignore her, instead busying himself with looking inside the fridge. But instead of giving up and asking one of the other members, she persists, and does everything from clinging, whining, to even pretending to be upset.

“I’ve been rejected,” she mopes in the living room, purposely speaking loud enough for Jay to hear her. “No one loves me anymore.”

At this, Jay seems ro reach the end of his straw, and laughs to himself as he makes his way over to the sulking Mila on the couch. To keep the long story short, Mila eventually sits him down and happily puts a ribbon in his hair, while commenting how cute he looks.

SO SO FUN

Mila is in the middle of cooking something in the kitchen when she notices that something is a bit off. She gasps when she realises she forgot to add an ingredient, and starts to panic that she might have ruined the whole dish.

The first thing she does is take off to find Jay. “Oppa, are you busy?”

Jay looks at her with his full attention. “Why? What’s wrong?”

Mila looks slightly embarrassed and stands closer to Jay, with a hand slightly covering her mouth. He leans down closer as she basically whispers, “I made a mistake with the food. I think I messed it up…”

Jay, to his credit, seems unpaused. “Show me. We’ll see if we can fix it.”

Mila points out the food when she gets for the kitchen, looking disappointed as she walks Jay through every step she took. “Sorry,” she says with a frown as she finishes. “I’m so clumsy…”

“No, no, don’t apologise,” Jay reassures softly. He wraps an arm around her shoulders and places a comforting hand on her head. “We can still fix it. Come here, I’ll show you what to do if it happens again.”

MISCELLANEOUS

And again, Mila can be seen asking for his help or his comfort when she needs something, which he responds to like a hero to the rescue at every occasion. It’s really no surprise that he’s her favourite oppa. (Or so, JayMi shippers like to claim—just don’t let the MiSeung fans know.)

© ENMI-LAND, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. DO NOT COPY, TRANSLATE, REPOST.

taglist⠀( OPEN ! ) ⦂ @em1ejiee @menichoi @dracoslovergirl @rosas-in-the-garden @blossominghunnie @lovelypham @cornenhapovs @nee-issaire @jwnstars @tommina @queenriki7 @onlyuyu

[uyuforu]

Romance Numbers in Destiny of Matrix

Hi people! So I have been discovering Destiny of Matrix for some days and I LOVE this technique. And of course, anytime I discover some thing, I love to check with the people I know to see how accurate it is. Moreover, I feel like it hasn't been talked much on Tumblr? Like there are posts but not enough in my opinion. I wanted to try to give my interpretation as I have made some researches based on people I know. So this post is totally my own interpretation! Though, I hope this can give some insights, and some good tools too.

All pictures were found on Pinterest

Other posts you could like:

જ⁀➴ How to know when you will get married?

જ⁀➴ How to know where your Future Spouse was born?

જ⁀➴ Derivative Astrology: our Future Spouse in our Natal Chart

READINGS BOOKING OPEN

email adress: tarotjunoboda@gmail.com

Soft To You presentation and Q&A ᡣ𐭩 rules ᡣ𐭩 private readings reviews

astrology menu ᡣ𐭩 tarot menu ᡣ𐭩 special astrology & tarot readings

What is Destiny Matrix?

⋆.˚₊˚⊹ ᰔ Destiny Matrix is an Esoteric tool that explores the 22 Arcana's of the Tarot to see a different approach of yourself and your life, as a Chart, similar to Astrology. It's a tool that also enable you to develop your full potential as an individual. Numbers and Chakras are used instead of signs, houses and degrees.

⋆.˚₊˚⊹ ᰔ Calculate your Destiny Matrix Chart here.

⋆.˚₊˚⊹ ᰔ Numbers on the Chart will go from 1 to 22, representing each Tarot's 22 Major Arcanas.

⋆.˚₊˚⊹ ᰔ Colored Numbers are your main energies, they are also great tools to understand your true potential and why you came into this life, but also past life, desires, and your soul's purpose. Though this isn't the theme in this post.

⋆.˚₊˚⊹ ᰔ Some more ressources on Tumblr here!

How do you use Destiny Matrix?

⋆.˚₊˚⊹ ᰔ In this post, we will talk about the romance and love part of your life. And mostly numbers. On each sides of the chart, you'll see your different ages, representing different eras of your life. And above those different ages, you'll see a number, between 1 to 22.

⋆.˚₊˚⊹ ᰔ As you may have guessed it, those numbers will express the energy of what is happening in your life in those eras. It doesn't only mean one thing, it's a global energy. So this energy can be taken in romance, career, etc.

⋆.˚₊˚⊹ ᰔ It's more about energies and main events. It's a life forecast.

⋆.˚₊˚⊹ ᰔ Now, each numbers above your different ages represent a Tarot Major Arcana, to know more, here is the Wikipedia page.

⋆.˚₊˚⊹ ᰔ Of course, each Arcana have also their own energies and meanings, and the way I interpret cards have always been taking both positive and negative energies. In this tool, I think it's important to take both.

⋆.˚₊˚⊹ ᰔ I have so studied this technique with my personal knowledge and thought of doing an observation post about it, please read this before continuing:

⋆.˚₊˚⊹ ᰔ Please know this post is based on my personal researches. I practice Tarot too and I have some knowledge on the cards, but I am still new at Destiny of Matrix. My main goal in this post is to give more insights and my own point of view on the matter. I of course use relatives and individuals I knows to support all theories here. This is truly an observation post. Please take it lightly!

⋆.˚₊˚⊹ ᰔ Also please use your intuition, I bet you'll not have children at 5 years old, so even if you see a number that can indicate pregnancy, think twice that it might not happen when you are too young. Use your own discernment, and take it in an open-minded way! Those are possible indicators only!

Meeting your Future Spouse Numbers

1: The Magician

The first Major Arcana can be an indicator of meeting your Future spouse. This card is the very first card, which usually represents new beginnings, something new coming to your life. It also indicates lovestruck, beginning of a relationship, and building a story with someone. In this case, this can be taken as a something new starting, and def something major in your life.

5: The Hierophant

The Hierophant, also called The Pope, is the 5th card and is an indicator of meeting your FS. This card is considered linked to marriage, as the man on the card usually seal a union between two individuals. Usually this card represent a union that can go far, meaning to marriage. So this can also be an indicator of meeting someone you'll marry in the future. It seems like this number happened with people when they realized who they will marry.

6: The Lovers

The Lovers is the 6th card and it's also an indicator of meeting your FS! It's a quite strong indicator in my opinion, since this card is a divine union card, so soulmates for example are often represented with this card. You could meet a destined lover with this number, or just fall in love too.

10: The Wheel of Fortune

The 10th card usually represents major change in our life, so if you have a 10 number, this can be a year when you'll meet someone who will deeply change your life. This can be a year when you'll meet your FS, things will change!

14: Temperance

This number can also indicate meeting your FS, as this card is also a Soulmate card. Just as the Lovers card, you could meet a divine partner this year but also someone who you'll love deeply. It can also be a soulmate, but this can def be an indicator of meeting the person you'll marry.

16: The Tower

The Tower is also called "The House of God" in the French Version, and it can then represent something fated by a higher force. The number 16 can be a time when you'll meet someone who was "sent" to you, someone who is destined to meet you, and they could perhaps be your FS. It usually also represents a happy union.

17: The Star

The Star is the 17th card of the Tarot for Major Arcana, and it is a sign of hope, happiness and optimism. This number can also be an indicator of meeting someone who will bring you great joy. This is an indicator of having a protected Union, being a couple that will last a long time but also a couple who will having high chances to have children together. Fertility is a keyword for this card.

18: The Moon

So, at first I wasn't going to include this number but two of my family members got it the year they met their FS. So it caught my interest. This card can indicate meeting someone you'll want children with. And it is also a sign of fertility. This number can then be an indicator of meeting your FS since it also talks about meeting someone you'll feel at home and comfortable with, and perhaps meeting someone who is a soulmate too. I have also noticed a pattern with this number: both my relative who got this number met their FS while being in a relationship! Perhaps this can be an indicator...

19: The Sun

AH the Sun! The happy card! The Sun to me makes it obvious we need to add the number 19. This number will bring great happiness and joy into your life, so this can be a year you can meet your FS since they will usually (I wish you that at least), great happiness. This card represents union, a couple that is a great fit for one another, but also a couple that is very tender and wish to build a future together. But it also represents universal and unconditional love!

20: Judgment

The number 20 can be another indicator of meeting your FS. That number is about meeting a person who will be a major meeting in our life. It's also about love at first sight. But also about our destiny. So we could be meeting someone who was meant for us.

22: The Fool

This is the last card in the Major arcana, and it usually represents a meeting a new person in a very unexpected way. But it also represents honeymoon, and meeting a passionate lover. While this can be surprising for others, I think it's important to remember this card represents endings leading to new beginnings. So yes, this can also be an indicator.

Examples

⋆.˚₊˚⊹ ᰔ My mom was a 10 when she met my dad.

⋆.˚₊˚⊹ ᰔ My dad only married my step mother, and he had number 10 the year he met her.

⋆.˚₊˚⊹ ᰔ The year I met my FS online I was a 6.

⋆.˚₊˚⊹ ᰔ And the year we met in real life I was a 16!

⋆.˚₊˚⊹ ᰔ Both my grandma and my aunt were a 18 when they met their FS, yet both met them at a time they were already in a relationship!

⋆.˚₊˚⊹ ᰔ My grandfather was a 20 when he met my grandma.

⋆.˚₊˚⊹ ᰔ My other grandma was also a 10 when she met my other grandfather.

⋆.˚₊˚⊹ ᰔ My FS was a 16 when we first met and 5 when we met in real life.

⋆.˚₊˚⊹ ᰔ One of my best friend was a 5 the first time she met her FS.

Getting Engaged / Marriage Numbers

2: The Popess

5: The Hierophant

6: The Lovers

7: The Chariot

This card is about moving, and things moving fast, forward. An engagement or a wedding is a new step in a relationship, so this card can be an indicator.

8: The Justice

Marriage contract

10: The Wheel of Fortune

16: The Tower

19: The Sun

20: The Judgment

21: The World

22: The Fool

A new era of your life, something totally new coming.

Examples

⋆.˚₊˚⊹ ᰔ When my dad and step mother married, she was a 21 and my dad was a 20.

⋆.˚₊˚⊹ ᰔ My grandma was an 8 when she got married for the second time.

⋆.˚₊˚⊹ ᰔ My grandfather was a 22 when he got married the second time.

⋆.˚₊˚⊹ ᰔ My other grandmother was a 21 when she got married too.

⋆.˚₊˚⊹ ᰔ My aunt was a 5 when she got married.

⋆.˚₊˚⊹ ᰔ If I follow my predictions, I will be an 8 or 16 when I'll get married.

⋆.˚₊˚⊹ ᰔ My mother has indicators of getting married soon and she will be a 7 soon LOL.

Pregnancies/ Having Children Numbers

2: The Popess

The Popess represents the oldest woman, the woman who has knowledges and experiences, so it can also represents a nurse, or women who help during the pregnancies. And it is also a sign, as the card itself, of pregnancies. It is governed by the Moon. It represents the desire to have children, and also to be pregnant. It is also a sign of maternal wisdom or nurturing.

3: The Empress (for women specifically)

The Empress represents the woman, and it is a major number to have for years to be pregnant. I would say that it represents being pregnant best, and more if you are a woman actually. This card is represented by Venus, and it is a huge indicators of being pregnant, being fertile, and having children. Pregnancy is a huge theme on this card. The Empress represents the mother in Tarot.

4: The Emperor (for men specifically)

As the Empress represents the mother, the Emperor represents the father! So if you are a man, this can be an indicator of becoming a father a certain year.

6: The Lovers

It wasn't an indicator to me at first but I saw two of my family members being a 6 during pregnancies or when they had a child, so I have decided to mark it. I guess since the Lovers represents being two, and when a woman is pregnant, she is two (her + the child), it can be an indicator. Both of those family members had this indicator with their first children!

10: The Wheel of Fortune

The Wheel of Fortune isn't necessarily a pregnancy indicator in Tarot, at least not specifically. But, this card represents big change or transformation in one's life. So it's obvious it can mean something is changing. This can so indicate pregnancies, and if you are a woman, this can even indicate something is changing in your body!

13: Death

While Death represents change and transformation, it can also apply in this case in my opinion. It means new beginnings, it's a card that indicates deep change, so even physically and mentally. So this can mean deep change and transformation in your body, but also in your life, as having children brings total new beginnings.

16: The Tower

This card brings happy news and it's a card about fertility, and also men's fertility. It represents pregnancies in some cases as it brings happy news specially to the home.

17: The Stars

This card represents women, fertility, feeling harmonious, and wishes for pregnancies. It represents possible birth and children.

18: The Moon

This is a feminine card too! A card ruled by Cancer, and a big indicator for pregnancies and children. In Tarot, this totally represents being pregnant. It also represents the desire to be pregnant, and the action to fall pregnant (so s3x, but def in order to be pregnant).

19: The Sun

So, there are two reasons as to why I think this can be an indicator. First, this card represents happy news, and so this is obvious (generally) a pregnancy is a happy new. But this card is also ruled by the Sun & Leo, and it so is the card of children.

21: The World

The World is a card that can also represents pregnancies. First, it's a card that has more feminine and women energies. This card represent the end of a project, and it can be the outcome of a couple project (what do couples do together... iykyk), it also represents a perfect project.

Examples

⋆.˚₊˚⊹ ᰔ My mother had number 3 when she had me.

⋆.˚₊˚⊹ ᰔ When my step-mother was pregnant with my sister, she was a 18.

⋆.˚₊˚⊹ ᰔ My aunt was a 10 during her first pregnancy.

⋆.˚₊˚⊹ ᰔ The next years she is a 13 and then 16, I am pretty sure she will fall pregnant again (I have astro indicator of having a new cousin this year).

⋆.˚₊˚⊹ ᰔ My dad was a 18 when my mom was pregnant, and a 10 when I was born.

⋆.˚₊˚⊹ ᰔ He was a 10 again when my brother was born.

⋆.˚₊˚⊹ ᰔ My grandma was a 21 when she was pregnant with her first child.

⋆.˚₊˚⊹ ᰔ Funny thing, my grandma was a 4 when she had my mother, but the story was that my grand father reallyyyy wanted a child that year.

⋆.˚₊˚⊹ ᰔ My other grandma was a 21 when she had my aunt.

FS being a Foreigner Numbers

For this part, we will focus on the numbers near the hearts, and actually those three (see pictures). Those numbers are indicators and a way to describe your FS. In those numbers, you can see if your FS can be a foreigner. Here are some numbers can indicate such thing.

7: The Chariot

The Chariot is a card that represents the act of moving, and it can also indicate traveling. Despite it's not necessarily a card that means this, it is still connected to the world, since the Chariot goes and doesn't stop. It can go anywhere, so this can be an indicator of having a foreign spouse.

14: Temperance

Temperance is a card that is related to holidays and traveling for vacations, so this card can also be linked to the foreign world. This card also reminded me of the foreign land, foreign people and people who are open-minded. After all, Aquarius rule over this card, so it makes sense.

19: The Sun

This can be surprising, yet I don't think it's a major indicator, but it can still be. Actually, the Sun as a card represent countries that are hot, and places where we can go on vacations, so this is again linked to foreign lands and foreigners.

21: The World

This one is obvious, the World literally represents what it is meant to. This is the biggest indicator to me.

22: The Fool

The last card of the Tarot to me is an indicator of having a foreign spouse as well, and I would say in my opinion, 2nd biggest. This card is ruled by Uranus, so Aquarius too. This card represents the travelers, people who go and just want to discover, curiosity, it represents "everywhere".

Not a lot of people around me married foreigners for now, I don't have much examples, except my FS is a foreigner and I have a 22 number lol. But this is just my guesses since those are cards that are linked to foreign lands.

Being Single / Breaking Up / Divorce Numbers

1: The Magician

New beginnings, starting a new project, cheating, being cheated on etc.

7: The Chariot

Moving on, moving to someone/ something else/ searching for something else.

8: The Justice

Breaking a contract, divorce.

9: The Hermit

Wanting to be alone, being left alone, someone breaking up with us, breaking up and staying single, being single.

10: The Wheel of Fortune

Change, suddenly breaking up, changing partner, passing from one partner to the other, etc.

12: The Hanged Man

Stop of a relationship, breaking up, divorce, the end of a relationship, leaving a partner.

13: Death

End of a relationship, divorce, separation, break up, being heart broken.

14: Temperance

End of a relationship, breaking up, could be a break up in good term, but also a break up because of miscommunication, couple not being made for each other.

15: The Devil

Cheating, being cheated on, doing terrible things against your partner, or your partner being terrible things to you, divorce, break up, leaving your partner for someone else, your partner leaving you for someone else, having bad intentions.

16: The Tower

Break up, divorce, separation, fights, arguments, cheating, being cheated on, breaking up on bad terms.

21: The World

Being rejected by your partner, being cheated on, partner breaking up with you, couple failing, couple not being made for each other, divorce, break up, cheating, wanting adventures.

22: The Fool

End of a relationship, stepping away from a partner, wanting to be single, being single, wanting to go on adventures, cheating, being cheated on, a partner leaving us, sudden endings.

Examples

⋆.˚₊˚⊹ ᰔ When my mom and dad divorced, my mom was a 13. My dad was a 10.

⋆.˚₊˚⊹ ᰔ My step mother was a 12 when she and my dad divorced.

⋆.˚₊˚⊹ ᰔ I was a 16 when I had a big break up with one of my ex who cheated on me (and then made me believe it was my fault lmao).

⋆.˚₊˚⊹ ᰔ My aunt left her partner to be with her current husband the year she was a 10.

⋆.˚₊˚⊹ ᰔ My dad was a 12 the year he got divorced from my step mother.

⋆.˚₊˚⊹ ᰔ My grand father was a 12 when he left his first wife.

⋆.˚₊˚⊹ ᰔ My grand mother was a 10 when she left her first husband for my grand father.

⋆.˚₊˚⊹ ᰔ My grandmother was a 8 when she got divorced from my grandfather.

Thank you for reading!

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