#i love you and i love these two and i've been having lots of feelings for them recently so ART

[geminiwritten]

all yours ; tyler owens

fandom: twisters

pairing: tyler x reader

summary: after being best friends and chasing storms with tyler for years, one night changes everything... now you're staring at a pregnancy test with two pink lines—and just as you're working up the nerve to tell him, tyler announces to the world that he never wants to settle down or have kids

notes: i'm sorry? i want to say i have no words but apparently... i have nearly 15k of them right here!!! i don't know who this is for, i lowkey feel like it will flop because it's long and angsty, but please let me know what you think if you read this!!! i've been working on it on and off for a while, so i am very glad to finally get it posted!

warnings: swearing, angst (but happy ending), pregnancy, a lot of crying, very brief mention of abortion, very brief discussion about the possibility of losing the baby, talk about sex (18+ ONLY PLEASE), a bit of horniness, and just a lot of emotions!!! (please let me know if i missed anything)

disclaimer: i am not pregnant and have never been pregnant. all this information comes from quick google searches, and things i've read in books. so i'm very if it's wrong or dumb. please don't come for me!

word count: 14818

You’ve known Tyler Owens since you were ten. 

You’ve been chasing storms with him for nine years, and hopelessly in love with him for eight. 

You’ve laughed as he lost seven cowboy hats to tornados, and helped him replace six shattered windshields. 

You’ve loved him through five of his lousy girlfriends and four of your own doomed boyfriends. 

You’ve tried—and failed—to tell him how you feel three times. 

You’ve kissed him twice. 

And you’ve slept with him once. 

Once. Exactly three weeks ago. 

You were both drunk—though you were probably pretending to be more gone than you really were—and lonely. Sure, you’d kissed before that night—once, years ago, on a dare. But that night, the second kiss happened as you stepped out of the bar. It was misting lightly, streetlights casting a glow, and Tyler looked so damn good as he—drunkenly—told you that you looked beautiful. How were you supposed to resist that? 

Back at the motel, you tried to go your separate ways. You even made it to your room alone. You were just about to reach for your vibrator, hoping to ease the ache low in your belly, when there was a knock at the door. 

You knew who it was before you even opened it. 

Tyler. 

You let him in—because of course you did—and he was on you in seconds. There was no way you were going to push him off. You’ve been in love with him for the better part of a decade. 

It was hot and desperate. All teeth and tongue, and handprints seared into your skin—ones you know you’ll never forget the feeling of. You were both so fucking wrecked there was no stopping it. 

Not even when the condom obviously broke while he was putting it on. 

Not even when something deep in your chest told you this was a bad idea. 

But now? Three weeks later—you wish you’d had more restraint. 

Sure, it was awkward the next morning—after Tyler snuck out of your room at three a.m., thinking you hadn’t noticed. It stayed awkward for about a week, with neither of you daring to talk about it. You’d promised yourself you wouldn’t bring it up. It was obviously just one night for him. Maybe he was just curious. You’ve been friends for so long. A lot of friends have slept together at least once… right? 

But even in that painfully awkward week of trying to relearn how to be friends, you couldn’t quite regret it. 

Because eventually, he cracked a joke. Then you said something sarcastic. And although there was still a hint of something more simmering under the surface, things almost felt normal again. 

Almost. 

It’s only now that you regret it—everything. 

Right now, as you stare at the two pink lines on the stick beside the sink, your vision blurred with tears, and your stomach roiling with nausea. 

The harsh crack of knuckles against the bathroom door startles you, sending your heart leaping into your throat. 

“You alright in there?” Lily calls through the wood. “It’s been like ten minutes—I’m getting worried. Do I need to break down the door?” 

You swallow the lump in your throat, willing your voice to come out steady. “Y-Yeah, I’m all good.” 

There’s a beat of silence before Lily speaks again, her voice lower this time. “Are you sure? You don’t sound good.” 

You shake your head and hastily wipe the wetness from your cheeks. Then you snap a photo of the pregnancy test before tossing it into the trash—this is just a gas station bathroom. No one’s tracing that stick back to you unless they run a DNA test, and that’s not likely. 

It’s not like you plan on going missing. Just… away. For a while. 

You splash your face with cool water and stare at your reflection in the mirror until you’re convinced you look close enough to normal. Then you square your shoulders, take a deep breath, and open the bathroom door. 

It’s only Lily waiting there—thank God—but she’s already watching you with sharp, perceptive eyes. 

“You good?” 

You nod once, forcing a smile. “Never better. Sorry. Lady stuff.” 

Technically not a lie. Still, you cringe at the way it comes out. You’re not someone who shies away from saying things plainly—especially not something as basic as a damn period. 

Her eyes narrow, but she doesn’t push. 

“Alright. Let’s get going. Tyler said we’re only twenty minutes out from a decent-sized town. Should be able to find good food and a motel where we don’t have to share rooms.” 

You nod again, not trusting yourself to laugh or offer a sarcastic remark. You just walk past her, the fake smile still fixed to your face, and head for the door. 

Twenty minutes later, you’re climbing out of the RV in a motel parking lot. Tyler’s truck is parked beside the reception office, his hat on the dashboard and Boone waiting in the front seat. Dani and Dexter walk ahead of you, muttering about something they saw pop up on the radar earlier, and Lily is rummaging around in the back seat of Tyler’s truck—her butt sticking out the passenger door—looking for the headphones she lost yesterday. 

Your heart aches at the thought of leaving, throbbing dully behind your sternum. You’re not sure if the nausea swirling in your gut is from the idea of walking away from your friends—your family—or because of your newly discovered… condition. Either way, you feel sick. And you need space. Time to think. To breathe. 

Once everyone has a room, you lug your few belongings up to the second floor and collapse onto the bed. You text Lily, telling her you feel sick sick—period pains—and that you’re going to skip dinner. You ask her to tell the others for you, because you can’t stomach lying to their faces. 

You spend the next few hours on your laptop, reading everything you can about pregnancy. You scroll through pages about what happens to your body, how your life is going to change. You read about complications, risks, even abortion. 

It’s strange, really. You’ve always been practical, logical. And this doesn’t seem like the practical choice. But you knew the second you saw those two lines that you were going to keep it. 

Call it maternal instinct. Or just plain insanity. Either way, your mind is made up. 

Now you just need a plan. 

Most people don’t announce their pregnancy until twelve weeks—you know that much—so you’re giving yourself twelve weeks to sort your shit out. 

First, you need to leave. You’ll make up some excuse about a sick family member and tell the crew your mom needs you immediately. Tyler will try to come with you—call it a detour or a bonus road trip—so you’ll have to convince him your mom only wants to see you. No one else. 

Then you’ll leave for... an indefinite stretch. You’re not going straight to your mom’s. You’ll hole up in a hotel halfway home, see a doctor, get the blood tests, the shots, the supplements—all the crap you’re supposed to do. 

Once your head is on straighter and you’ve got a handle on things, you’ll start looking for an apartment. Something short-term, just in case… well, in case you lose the baby. At least then you’ll have somewhere to crash and recover before deciding what comes next. It feels morbid, sure, but you’re not a total daydreamer. Life can be brutal, and you know better than to think you’ll be spared. 

But assuming things go well—assuming you hit that twelve-week mark after moving in—that’s when you’ll start telling people. You’ll tell your mom first, maybe find a therapist and tell them too. And then... Tyler. 

The moment his name crosses your mind, your body reacts. You jump up from the motel bed and stumble into the tiny bathroom, hunching over the toilet and gagging like you’re going to throw up. But nothing comes up—your stomach is empty. You know this isn’t the pregnancy making you sick. It’s the thought of telling him. 

It feels cruel, waiting three whole months before telling the father. But you can’t bring yourself to do it any sooner. You know this isn’t what Tyler wants. Especially not with you. What happened between you was a one-time thing—a fun night, a way to blow off steam. It wasn’t meant to change everything. 

So you’ll wait. Make sure it’s real. Make sure it’s sticking. Plain and simple. Harsh? Maybe. But you need time to figure yourself out before dropping a bomb on him. And by the time you do, it’ll be six months to impact. Give or take. 

You have no idea how he’ll react, but you know it won’t be like one of those social media videos where the dad cries and jumps for joy. No—this will be very different. Which is exactly why you’re not telling him for at least a month or two. You’ll figure out exactly how far along you are once you see a doctor. 

You take a deep breath and snap your laptop shut. Time to get some sleep. You’ve got a full day of driving tomorrow, and you’re going to need the energy. 

- 

“What?” Tyler drops his bacon back onto the plate, staring at you wide-eyed across the diner table. “If you’re going home, then we’re all-” 

“No, Tyler,” you interrupt, sighing as you stare down at the table. You can’t bring yourself to meet his eyes. “She said just me. I know you want to help, but I don’t know how long I’ll have to stay. I’ll call as soon as I get there and keep you updated. I just—she sounded really fragile, alright? I don’t want to overwhelm her.” 

It doesn’t feel like that much of a lie. You’re not talking about your mom—you’re talking about yourself. At least, that’s how you justify it to your guilty conscience. 

“You sure?” Lily asks, leaning forward beside Tyler. “We don’t have to go see her. We can just come to town, hang out nearby. We don’t mind staying a week or so.” 

You take a deep breath, eyes locked on your untouched plate of plain toast and fried eggs. “It might not be a week,” you say, bracing yourself. “It could be a couple of months.” 

“Months?” Dani echoes, her coffee cup clattering against the table. 

Tyler looks stunned, frozen in place. His expression is unreadable—shock, maybe disbelief, etched into every line of his face. His lips are slightly parted—lips you haven’t stopped thinking about, hot on your skin—and his brows pinch together. His cheeks are flushed, but not with embarrassment. He looks... unsure. Concerned. 

“What are we going to do without you for a couple months?” Lily asks, her eyes wide. 

You wave a hand, trying to sound nonchalant. “You’ll be fine. I’ll only be a phone call away. If I can come back earlier, I will. But right now, I really need to be there for... for my mom.” 

God, you’re a terrible liar this morning. 

“When do you need to leave?” Tyler asks, his voice low and flat. 

You swallow hard, still staring at your toast. “Today.” 

A wave of protests, questions, and complaints breaks out—everyone but Tyler. He stays silent, still watching you like he’s trying to piece something together. Like you’re a puzzle he didn’t realise needed solving. 

He looks at you like he sees straight through the lie. His green eyes don’t blink, and it makes your stomach churn. 

For the next half hour, you lie and deflect as best you can. You keep your head down, your answers short. No promises, no explanations. Breakfast turns into a full-blown protest, your friends more upset than you expected by your sudden departure. But no matter how hard they try, nothing could convince you to stay. 

You can’t. 

Back at the motel, you pack your things. You’d already asked Dexter to drive you to the nearest car rental place—he grumbled but agreed. Now comes the part you’re dreading. 

The goodbyes. 

To them, this is temporary—a month or two, maybe. But you know better. This is something else. Something longer. More permanent. 

Moisture stings your eyes as you zip your duffel shut. Your nose burns, and this time, you don’t stop the tears from falling. 

“Hey,” Tyler’s voice startles you, and you realize in your rush to get into the room, you hadn’t fully shut the door. 

You sniff and wipe your cheeks, keeping your back to him. “Hey.” You clear your throat. “What’s up?” 

He lets out a short, disbelieving laugh. “You’re seriously asking me that?” 

You don’t respond. You just keep your head down and continue stuffing the last of your things into your backpack. 

He sighs as the door clicks shut behind him. A few steps bring him closer, and you can almost feel his warmth hovering just a few feet behind you. 

“Look,” he says gently, “I’m not going to press you about what’s really going on. But it’s obvious something’s got you rattled. I just want you to know that I’m here for you. We all are. Whatever it is.” 

You close your eyes, fresh tears slipping down your cheeks. 

“I’m worried,” he continues. “This isn’t you. Cutting and running like this? I know you. I know your family. This is something else. And I’m really damn worried.” 

“It’s fine, Ty,” you say, your voice catching in your throat, the words barely a whisper. 

“No, it’s not.” He steps closer, and now his warmth is unmistakable—his presence pressing in, impossible to ignore. “You don’t have to tell me everything, but I need you to promise me you’ll be okay. That you’ll come back.” 

You drop the sweater you’ve been folding and refolding, letting it fall from your hands. He reaches out, his fingers wrapping gently around your bicep, coaxing you to turn toward him. Then he lifts your chin with one curled finger, forcing you to meet his eyes. 

You can barely make out his face through the tears—hot and heavy, falling faster than you can blink them away. 

His voice cracks. “It’s not the same out there without you. You know that.” 

A sob breaks from your chest, and you fall forward. He catches you easily, arms strong and sure around your trembling frame. Pressed against him, for a moment it all feels like it might be okay. Like maybe this whole life-altering thing won’t change everything after all. Tyler makes you feel like you can handle anything. Like you’re more than human. Invincible, even. 

Maybe that’s why you fell in love with him in the first place. 

But you can’t stay in his arms forever. You’re not even sure he’d be holding you if he knew the truth—if he knew you were the one holding the pin to the grenade that could blow his whole life to pieces. 

“You’re scaring the shit out of me, darlin’,” he whispers into your hair. 

You sniffle against his shirt, steadying your voice. “I’m okay. It’s okay.” 

He slowly lets you go, giving you space to stand on your own again. 

“I promise you’ll see me again,” you say, trying to sound certain. “I promise I’ll be back once everything’s... sorted.” 

His brows draw together like he wants to believe you but can’t quite manage it. Still, he nods, swallowing whatever emotion is caught in his throat. Then he pulls you into one last hug, holding you tighter than before, like he’s afraid to let go. 

You inhale deeply—maybe too deeply—committing his scent to memory, as if you hadn’t already. You memorise the way he holds you, the way your bodies fit together, and the quick, steady beat of his heart beneath your cheek. 

You know you’ll see Tyler again. One way or another. 

But it won’t be the same. Nothing is the same anymore. 

- 

“You’re both doing really well,” the doctor says, eyes scanning the computer screen. “Your baby is perfectly healthy, and everything about you is exactly where it should be for fourteen weeks.” 

You nod and give her a tight-lipped smile, gripping the ultrasound picture like a lifeline. 

“And the bump isn’t... too big?” you ask, trying not to sound completely clueless. 

The doctor smiles warmly. “It’s perfect,” she assures you. “You’re showing a little more than some women might at this stage, but everyone’s different.” 

You nod again. “Okay, good.” 

“Any other concerns?” she asks after a moment. 

“I don’t think so.” 

“Good.” She pushes up from her chair and heads for the door. “I’ll see you in four weeks.” 

You smile and nod once more. “Thanks, doctor.” 

“No worries. And—” she pauses, brows pulling together slightly. “You know you can bring the father to these appointments, right? Regardless of your relationship, he’s welcome. It might help ease some of the anxiety.” 

You blink quickly at the sudden sting in your eyes—fucking hormones—and offer a watery smile. “Thanks. I’ll... talk to him.” 

She gives you one last kind smile before shutting the door, leaving you alone in the pale-yellow hallway with nothing but spiralling thoughts. 

Okay, so you haven’t told Tyler... yet. But you plan to. As soon as you stop crying at everything and start acting like a functional adult. These hormones have wrecked you—just like the internet said they would. 

One minute, you’re sobbing over nothing. The next, you’re halfway to committing a felony. And then suddenly, you’re numb. Emotionally whiplashed. And the thought of telling Tyler—of seeing him again—drags every human emotion you have straight to the surface. 

You’ve talked to him a few times. The rest of the crew, too. You’ve spun some lies and danced around their questions. You spoke to your mom and made her promise to keep your secret—because you know Tyler’s tried calling her since you left. But you haven’t yet mustered the courage to tell anyone else. 

It’s been exactly eight weeks since you left. You're running on borrowed time. You know they’ll come looking soon, and you can’t let that happen. You need to go to them. To Tyler. You need to tell him the truth—your way—before it all blows up. 

But first... you need a really big bowl of croutons. Just croutons. And if you don’t get them soon, you’re going to kill someone. 

Pregnancy is wild. 

A few hours later, you’re back in your studio apartment, curled up on the lounge you bought last week, your laptop propped on your belly and a second bowl of croutons at your side. Your résumé is open, and you’re tweaking it for a few job applications—hoping to land something at a desk for at least a few months. You could use the extra money. 

On the small TV across the room—still sitting on the floor because you don’t have a table yet—YouTube is playing. More specifically, the live stream of a storm chaser you used to know. Someone who follows storms and interviews other chasers. Her name is Corey—you’ve met her a few times, but she’s never interviewed you. She’s always wanted Tyler, though. Everyone does. The man has... an effect on people. 

Today’s the day, apparently. She finally convinced him to do an interview. And to say you’re jealous of how close she’s standing to him would be a laughable understatement. 

Think pregnancy crying is bad? Try the horniness. 

Ugh. 

You can barely glance at a photo of Tyler without creaming your jeans. Just thinking about him twists your stomach into a knot—equal parts guilt and raw, desperate lust. You’ve thought about him way more than you should while touching yourself, and honestly? You don’t even care. 

You’re not sure if it’s because he’s the father of the baby growing inside you or just because you’ve been in love with him for years. Either way, everything is louder now. Sharper. Half the reason you haven’t seen him again is because you’re not entirely sure you could stop yourself from tearing him apart—devouring him the second he’s in front of you. 

“Fuck,” you sigh out loud, feeling that familiar ache low in your belly. 

You need to calm down. 

You shift your focus back to the Word doc on your laptop, trying to let Corey’s high-pitched voice blur into the background as she asks Tyler about the storm they just chased. It’s hard though—because then he speaks. And the second he does, his voice draws your attention like a magnet, sending shivers racing down your spine. 

You’d think after all these years of friendship, you’d be used to him by now. 

“So, Tyler,” Corey says, her bright blue eyes sparkling above a megawatt smile, “now that we’ve completely and totally hashed out that EF2, I think it’s time to move on to some live questions. Mind answering a few from the fans?” 

Tyler nods, the usual charming smirk tugging at his lips. “Bring it on.” 

“Amazing.” Corey flips her auburn hair over her shoulder and holds up her phone. “First question: which tornado wrangler would be most likely to survive a horror movie?” 

Tyler chuckles—low and rich, the kind of sound that somehow wraps around you even through the TV speakers. “Definitely Boone, but not because he’s outsmarted anyone. Just pure dumb luck.” 

Corey giggles, and the sound literally makes you gag. Because pregnancy nausea? Not just limited to tastes and smells. Nope—it’s upgraded to all five senses. 

“Okay, next up,” she says, eyes dropping to her phone screen. “What’s your go-to road trip snack?” 

Tyler starts rubbing his hands together as he answers, but you don’t register the words. You already know his favourite snacks. You’ve been buying them for him for years. Instead, you find yourself watching his hands—his long fingers, the way he laces them together in front of his body. Those fingers you know can find magic inside you. 

Your pulse thrums in your ears—and between your legs. Hot and heavy, making your breath catch in your throat. 

Corey’s pitchy laugh pulls you back. “Noted. I’ll be sure to bring sour worms to our next interview,” she says with a wink. 

Tyler laughs politely and pretends to adjust his belt—something you know he only does when he’s uncomfortable. 

Sucked in, Corey. He doesn’t like you. 

“Alright, I’ve got a slightly more serious one,” she says, tone shifting as she angles herself toward him. “This one’s come in from quite a few people, so I can’t not ask it.” 

Tyler’s brows furrow and he nods once. 

“Obviously, the Tornado Wranglers have welcomed two new members recently—Kate and Javi,” she says, referring to the two you met via video call a couple weeks ago. “But fans have also noticed the absence of one particular chaser. Your partner in crime…” she pauses for dramatic effect. “Will she be back?” 

Your heart crawls into your throat. Tears burn at the corners of your eyes—so routine by now, you don’t even bother blinking them back. 

Tyler shifts uncomfortably and glances at the ground. Then he mutters something the mic doesn’t quite catch. His shoulders go rigid, his jaw clenched as he struggles to find an answer. 

It makes your chest ache. 

“Well—uh,” he clears his throat, “we don’t usually get into personal stuff. We try to keep things focused on the storms. But, um...” His eyes are everywhere but the camera. “We all have personal lives, and sometimes things come up. Unexpected things. But in short… yes. She’ll be back. We’re not sure when, but she will be.” 

The confidence in his voice rips a sob from your chest. You push your laptop off your stomach and sit up, arms wrapping protectively around the little bump low in your belly. To say you feel guilty about this whole thing is a gross understatement. You feel wretched. Each day you wake up knowing you’ll find another excuse not to call Tyler, and each day you inch closer to hating yourself for it. 

You need to stop being such a coward and just do it. He has every right to know what’s going on—not just because he’s the father, but because he’s your best friend. These last two months have been the longest you’ve ever gone without seeing him since you joined the chasers nearly a decade ago. And the distance—physical and emotional—is chipping away at both of you. 

You swipe the sleeve of your sweatshirt across your eyes and reach for your phone. Opening your chat with Tyler, you scroll through the brief exchange from a couple days ago about an EF3 they’d been chasing. You start typing a message—trying to ask when you can see him without sounding too obvious. 

But then Corey’s voice cuts through the room, snagging your attention again. “So, the fans want to know,” she says, “what’s next? What comes after storm chasing? Do you see yourself going back to school to become a qualified meteorologist—or maybe settling down? Starting a family?” 

Your breath catches in your throat. Your chest tightening until your lungs ache. 

Tyler scoffs. “There’s an after chasing?” he says, the words stabbing into you like pins into a voodoo doll. “Chasing is it for me. I’ve worked too hard to get here, doing what I love. Nothing’s going to stop me—at least not until I’m too old to drive my truck. And even then,” he laughs, “I’ll find someone else to drive me into the eye of the storm.” 

Corey giggles and tips her head, teasing. “So no dreams of settling down? No wife and kids someday?” 

Your heart slams against your ribs. Heat and nausea roll over you in waves. 

“No,” Tyler says. “I just don’t see that for myself. Nothing feels as important to me as this—the storms, the research. Especially now, with Kate—she’s incredible—and Javi on the team, we’re doing real work in the name of science. I never want to stop. A family just doesn’t fit into that. It’s not what I want.” 

The words hit like a gut punch, knocking the breath clean out of you. 

“That’s not to say I won’t have a wife one day,” he adds. “If I find someone who loves this as much as I do, then maybe. But kids? No. I know myself too well—I’d resent anyone who took me away from what I really love. Which is chasing.” 

You bolt from the couch and rush into the bathroom, dropping to your knees in front of the toilet just in time to hurl up an unsettling amount of croutons. Tears blur your vision, and all you can hear is the pounding of your own pulse in your ears—and Tyler’s voice echoing in your head. 

It’s not what I want. 

- 

Your hands shake as you slide the mouse across the screen, clicking the answer button on the Skype call request. When Lily’s grinning face pops up—just Lily—you let out a sigh of relief. 

“Oh my goodness, hi,” she says, leaning toward the camera. “You look... different. Like, good, but different. How do you look different from last week?” 

You let out a soft laugh and roll your eyes, one arm resting on the kitchen counter where the laptop is propped, the other hung protectively across your stomach below the counter. You’re perched on the single barstool you picked up from a second-hand store last weekend, specifically for your weekly video calls with Lily. The couch wasn’t cutting it anymore, and you can’t exactly lie on your belly on the bed these days. 

“Maybe I’ve been abducted by aliens and what you’re seeing now is just a bad clone,” you tease, deflecting. 

She snorts. “Well, that would make sense, since that’s the only thing I can think of that would keep the girl I know away from chasing. Like, seriously. It’s been three months. Please tell me you’re coming back soon.” 

You sigh, eyes darting to the notepad where you’ve scribbled your pre-planned excuses—not trusting yourself to think clearly on the fly. 

“I’m sorry, Lils. I thought I’d be back by now too, but with everything going on with the family—it’s just been so stressful. And... I went to the doctor the other day. They think I could have a stress-induced stomach ulcer. I’m on meds, and I feel okay, but it needs to be monitored.” 

Until you give birth to it… 

Lily’s brow creases. “What? Seriously?” 

You nod slowly, avoiding her big brown eyes on the screen. “Yeah, but it’s okay. It’s not too serious—it’s manageable. I just need to, uh... stay here and keep things steady for a while.” 

“Can we visit, then?” she asks. “Everyone misses you so much.” 

“And I miss you guys too,” you say quickly. “But don’t come all this way for me. Keep chasing—it’s the season. Besides, it’s kind of boring over here. I’m just resting and helping out with family stuff. If you could actually help, I’d say get over here, but there’s really nothing to do except mope around.” 

She nods slowly, still looking a little unconvinced, but mostly reassured. 

“Besides, I need you to keep sending me updates so I can live vicariously,” you add, trying to lift the mood. “How was yesterday’s chase?” 

Her face lights up, and she launches into a detailed rundown of what they got up to. You try to stay focused, to really listen, but she keeps mentioning Kate’s name beside Tyler’s, and your thoughts start spiralling. 

You’ve met Kate and Javi—the new wranglers—a couple of times now via video call. They seem lovely and super smart. You hadn’t thought much of it. Until last night. 

You’d stupidly decided to watch one of Boone’s Instagram live videos—one where he and Tyler recapped the day over beers in a motel parking lot. You thought it might help ease the ache in your chest from missing them, but instead it twisted something sharp and jealous low in your gut. 

Kate had been there too, sitting beside Tyler, who wore a dopey grin and kept glancing at her like she was magnetic. They were clearly comfortable with each other—she even rested her hand on his knee once or twice as she answered some of Boone’s questions about the science side of things. Tyler didn’t adjust his belt. He didn’t shift awkwardly or look away. 

He looked at her like she belonged there. 

The jealousy that coursed through you had been instant and overwhelming. You’ve dealt with your fair share of Tyler’s girlfriends and hookups, but you’ve never seen him look at someone like that. Never once worried that maybe he’d find someone who didn’t just make him forget you—but replace you entirely. 

It’s your biggest insecurity, one you hate even admitting to yourself... Tyler doesn’t need you as much as you need him. 

“But anyway,” Lily says, her voice dragging you back to reality, “we were thinking of taking a break for a week or so. Maybe head somewhere quiet, less full of chasers. I think Tyler needs it—he’s been super stressed lately.” 

“At least he has Kate,” you say before you can stop yourself. “I—I mean, she sounds really great and helpful. Just what Tyler needs.” 

Lily’s eyes narrow. “Yeah... she’s cool, but...” She tips her head and sighs. “You know he misses you like crazy? I’m pretty sure he’s not sleeping, and he’s always talking about coming to find you. I don’t know how much longer we’re going to be able to keep him at bay.” 

You roll your eyes, trying to sound casual while swallowing down another wave of emotion. “I’m sure Tyler’s doing just fine. He always said I was a liability, so technically he should be way less stressed without me around.” 

She gives you a flat, unimpressed look. “You better be joking, because I’ve never seen Tyler this wound up before.” 

A flicker of hope sparks in your chest—small and fragile, but impossible to ignore. Maybe... just maybe... this whole fucked-up situation is still salvageable. 

“Speak of the devil,” Lily says before you can respond. 

You watch as she shuffles off the motel bed she’d been lying on and disappears out of frame. Your pulse quickens at the sound of a deep, muffled voice and approaching footsteps. For a split second, you consider ending the call—blaming it on bad reception or something—but it’s already too late. 

The video shakes as Lily picks up her laptop and spins it toward Tyler. “Look who it is!” she announces. 

He looks pale, the lines in his face more defined than you remember, but his eyes still sparkle the same. “Hey,” he says, a soft grin tugging at his lips. “You look... different.” 

You blink quickly to stop the moisture welling in your eyes—internally cursing the hormones, even though you know they’re not the only ones to blame. 

You haven’t actually spoken to Tyler in almost two weeks. You mostly text, dodge his calls with excuses, and only agree to video chats with Lily or Dani. Tyler knows you too well—and you’re starting to look different. He’ll know something is off. 

“She’s sick,” Lily says before you can answer. 

“Sick?” Tyler repeats, his smile fading. “Sick how?” 

You shake your head, swallowing hard against the emotion rising in your throat. “I’m fine, really. Might be a stomach ulcer, but it’s mild and I’m already on meds. I just need a bit of rest.” 

“We can come visit,” Tyler offers quickly, his green eyes full of concern that makes your stomach turn. “We were planning to take some time off soon, and we could-” 

“No,” you cut in, your voice cracking. “Seriously, don’t. I’m okay. And there’s still stuff going on with the family. I just told Lily—if there were anything you could do, I’d say come help. But there’s not.” 

He opens his mouth, ready to argue, then hesitates. His eyes flick across the screen, studying your face, your posture, the way you’re nervously chewing your lip. He’s probably already clocked that the background behind you isn’t your mom’s house. 

“Don’t worry, Tyler,” Lily says with a smile, trying to ease the tension. “She’ll be back soon. She can’t stay away much longer—the chase is calling.” She looks at you with a playful grin. “Or we’ll come kidnap you.” 

You let out a shaky laugh. “I know you will.” 

“How’s your mom?” Tyler asks suddenly, leaning closer to the camera. 

Yeah. He’s definitely trying to figure out where you are. He’s been in every room of your mom’s place—he knows this background doesn’t match. 

“She’s alright,” you say, shifting closer to the laptop to fill more of the frame. “Still a little fragile, so it’s good I’m here. But she’s doing well.” 

He opens his mouth again, eyes narrowing slightly—keen and searching. 

“Anyway,” you cut in quickly, “I should go. I’ll talk to you later, okay?” 

Lily nods, oblivious to Tyler’s suspicion. “Love you,” she says. 

“Love you too, Lils,” you reply, before your gaze flicks toward Tyler’s frowning face. “You too, Ty. Stay safe out there.” 

Then you move the mouse and hit the red button, sighing out a breath of relief as the call drops. 

- 

The next four weeks are brutal—worse than the twelve before them combined. You’re creeping up on the six-month mark, which means the third trimester isn’t far off. Your belly has officially popped—there’s no hiding it now unless you borrow your mom’s retro maternity parka—and you’re out of breath more often than not. All you want to do is sleep, eat, and cry over the fact that your closest grocery store just stopped stocking your favourite juice flavour. 

But that’s not the hardest part. 

The hardest part is Tyler—he’s relentless, and you’re pretty sure he’s rallying the rest of the crew too. The messages haven’t let up, and now he’s started calling at random times during the day. He asks about your mom, your family, your ‘stomach ulcer’. And everyone else is pestering you to come back to chasing, even just for a week, because they miss you like hell. 

You feel like a total piece of shit. 

You’re running out of excuses, and you’ve deflected for as long as you can. You’ve tried over and over to come up with a version of the truth that doesn’t make you sound like the villain. But no matter how you spin it, you’re still the asshole who kept a massive secret from the people who are practically your family. They’re going to find out soon—you’re already on borrowed time—and you know you have to tell them before Tyler shows up pounding on your mom’s front door. 

The only thing you’re still absolutely certain about is this: you’re not telling Tyler he’s the father. 

On the surface, it makes you look like a terrible person, but every time you imagine telling him... you hear his words again. And you know you just can’t. 

It’s not what he wants. It would ruin everything. He’d resent you. 

You can’t do that to him. You don’t expect anything from him, and you’re more than ready to do this on your own. In fact, at this point, you’d prefer it. You made the decision to keep the baby—this is on you. All Tyler did was break a condom and fuck you more thoroughly than anyone else ever has. He didn’t sign up for consequences. And for him... there doesn’t have to be any. 

So you’ll tell them it was a one-night stand—technically true. That the father travels for work, and you gave him an out—also true. 

Now you just have to hope the baby doesn’t come out looking like a carbon copy of Tyler Owens. 

Not that you’re even sure the crew will be around to see much of the baby. You’re doing this solo for a reason—you don’t want to weigh anyone down. No matter how they react when you tell them, you’re not letting them give up chasing. That’s their life, and this choice? This was yours. 

So, yeah, you’re going to tell them. But after that... you have no clue. You might never see them again, now that you’re settling down. Or maybe they’ll pop in once or twice a year. You don’t know. 

The only thing you’re sure of right now is that you’re having this baby—and surprisingly, that’s more than enough. 

“She’s perfect,” the doctor says, handing you the sonogram. “What made you want to find out the sex?” 

You stare down at the little black and white image. Twenty-two weeks exactly. You’re more than halfway there. 

“I don’t know,” you reply. “Thought maybe I should get to know my new roommate a little better.” 

The doctor laughs softly but doesn’t press further. She types something into the computer, then jots a note on a scrap piece of paper—her recommendation for the heartburn you mentioned earlier. After a few more routine questions, she offers a kind smile and a dismissive nod. You thank her and step out. 

Her office is just around the block from your apartment, so you chose to walk today. The sun is warm, the sky is blue, and—for the first time in a while—you’re feeling a little less weighed down. 

You’ve also decided that today’s the day you’ll message Tyler to ask where they are and see if you can meet up soon. You’ve practiced your story in the mirror more times than you can count, and you’ve run it past both your mom and your therapist—the latter was less thrilled about the lying, but you’re ignoring that part. All that’s left now is to show up and break the news gently. Although, your belly will probably do that for you the moment they see you. 

Strangely, you feel at peace today—despite the whirlwind of the past few weeks. You woke up clear-headed, even a little hopeful. Like if you can grow an entire human, you can handle anything. 

You try not to overanalyse the sudden shift—your moods have been a rollercoaster lately—and you’re especially trying not to compare it to the weather before a storm. But that’s exactly what it feels like. 

Everything is calm. Still. The sun is out, and there’s no wind. But you know better than to trust this kind of stillness. 

It’s the calm before the storm. 

You shake your head and take a deep breath, refocusing on your route from the doctor’s office to the grocery store. It’s still early—barely nine a.m.—and you’ve got a craving for the sugary cereal you ran out of days ago. 

The sun is warm enough that you have to shrug off your sweater the moment you step inside the store. It’s blissfully quiet—no crowded aisles, no screaming kids, and no one crashing their cart like it’s a demolition derby. 

You sling your sweater over one shoulder and head toward the breakfast aisle, one hand resting on your belly as the baby wriggles—still too small for proper kicks, but very much there. A soft smile tugs at your lips as you scan the shelves, eyes flitting across the bright, colourful cereal boxes. 

You really should start thinking of names. You haven’t even made a list. 

You grab the box you came for and continue toward the end of the aisle, already thinking about swinging past the bakery section. But just as you round the corner, a voice stops you in your tracks. 

“Holy shit.” 

You know that voice. You know it too well. 

You almost don’t want to look—but your head turns before you can stop it. And sure enough, there’s Tyler, looking downright sinful in a tight white T-shirt and faded Wrangler jeans. He’s wearing a cap, backwards, and it’s making your hormones riot. You could devour him right here in the middle of the store. But not only would that be wildly inappropriate... you’re pretty sure he’s gone into shock. 

He looks pale—too pale. Frozen. His eyes are wide, and his mouth is moving, but no sound is coming out. He looks like a fish out of water. And judging by the expression on his face, he probably feels like one too. 

“Oh my God,” you say, instinctively shifting the cereal box in front of your belly. “Tyler.” 

You want to launch yourself at him, to throw your arms around his neck. You want to hug him, kiss him, get lost in him the way you’ve been craving for months. But the way he’s staring... you’re not even sure he recognises you. 

“W-What are you doing here?” you ask, your voice shaky and weirdly high-pitched. “Are the others here too?” 

Panic overtakes you now, shoving the longing and hormones down into your gut and replacing them with a fresh wave of anxiety. 

“I—uh,” he clears his throat, blinking hard. “We were just... just passing through.” 

You can feel your heartbeat thumping in your throat. 

Tyler shifts on his feet and clears his throat again. “We got in late last night. I was going to—uh, call you. See where you were, but...” His eyes drop to the cereal box in your hands, like he can see right through it. 

“Wow,” you say, because it’s the only word your brain can summon. “That’s... great. I’d love to see them. Are they-” 

“They’re back at the motel,” he cuts in. 

Slowly, his expression twists—shock giving way to confusion, then something sharper. Anger, maybe. 

There’s a long pause, thick and heavy, before you clear your throat. “Well, maybe we could all catch up? I’m not doing anything this after-” 

“No,” he says, cutting you off again. He shakes his head like he’s trying to clear it. “I mean, yes. They want to see you. But I think I’d like to catch up now.” His tone is harder now, his expression unreadable. “Do you want to grab a coffee—” he hesitates, “or... tea?” 

You rock back on your heels like a kid caught doing something they shouldn’t. “Tea still has caffeine in it,” you mumble. 

He doesn’t even flinch—just pins you with a look. There’s no room to argue. 

“But I could definitely go for a smoothie!” you say too brightly. “There’s a café around the corner, and my apartment’s just the next block over. If you don’t mind... can we go back there? I’ve got ultrasound jelly in my underwear and I really need to pee.” 

His brows draw together. There’s a flicker of something behind his eyes—hurt. “You have an apartment?” 

You didn’t expect that to hit hardest, but you see why. As far as Tyler was concerned, you were coming back. You’d only ever been on a break. But hearing you have an apartment here... it tells him something else entirely. 

That you’re not coming back. 

You nod, tears starting to sting at the corners of your eyes. “Yeah... I do.” 

The walk out of the store and around the corner is one of the most painful things you’ve ever endured. You’re already planning to compare it to childbirth when the time comes—but honestly, you’re pretty sure this will still win. 

Tyler’s movements are stiff and deliberate. He keeps a cautious distance, like you’re contagious, and it takes everything in you not to cry right there on the sidewalk. 

Neither of you speaks. You just lead the way, and he follows. At the café, you order a smoothie—nothing else. You feel so nauseous, you're worried you might throw up your baby. Tyler orders a coffee, then steps back to type something on his phone. For a moment, panic grips you—is he telling the others? But no. Tyler’s not like that. He’s probably just letting them know that he got caught up. 

Once your drinks are ready, you head down the street toward your apartment. You don’t bother making conversation, you don’t even point out the ridiculous-looking dog in the window across the street. You just let yourself into the lobby and ride up to the fourth floor. 

Down the hall, you unlock your door and step inside, holding it open for him. 

The look on his face as he enters your space is what finally breaks you. The tears spill over before you can stop them. He looks wrong here—too big for the tiny apartment you’ve made your own. And he looks like you’ve just ripped his heart out and stomped on it. 

You make a beeline for the kitchen, dropping your untouched smoothie on the counter and diving for the tissue box. A sniffle escapes as you swipe at your eyes and nose, followed by a soft, rattling sob. 

“Hey,” Tyler says gently, suddenly at your side, a hand landing on your back. “It’s okay. I’m not mad.” 

Of course he’s not. He’s too good. Too decent to treat you the way you probably should be treated—without kindness. 

You clear your throat and look up at him, close enough now that you can smell the familiar scent of his cologne. “You should be,” you mumble, wiping at your cheeks. “It’d be easier if you were mad at me.” 

He lets out a humourless chuckle. “I mean, I’m not exactly happy. But why would I be mad?” 

You feel small. Pathetic. Like if the floor cracked open right now, you’d gladly let it swallow you whole. But it doesn’t. 

You force down another sob, blinking hard as you reach for your smoothie and carry it into the living room. You flop down into your favourite corner of the couch and nod for him to follow. 

Then you clear your throat, summoning every ounce of confidence you have left. 

“Okay,” you say. “Here’s the story.” 

You don’t say the truth or what really happened. Because that’s not what you’re about to give him. 

You’ve got a story. And that’s what you’re sticking to. 

“A few weeks after I got back, I went out with some old friends,” you begin, technically not lying. “It was supposed to be a way to blow off some steam after everything with my family... and I missed you guys so much, I thought it would take my mind off things. But I got a little too drunk, and I ended up going home with some guy my friend knew.” There's the lie. “It was stupid and reckless, but... that’s what happened.” 

He winces at your words, his expression unreadable. It looks like hurt, but why would he be hurt by that? Maybe it’s just disappointment. 

You clear your throat and continue, slipping into the rhythm of the story you’ve practiced a thousand times in front of the mirror. “About three weeks later, I found out. I contacted the guy, but he travels for work, so... I gave him an out. I made the decision to keep it, told him I didn’t expect anything from him. So... here we are.” 

The silence hangs thick and heavy between you, suffocating you as you try to breathe through the storm of emotions clawing at your chest. 

“I was going to tell you,” you add, your voice steadier than you feel. “I just couldn’t find the right time. It all felt so messy and rushed, and time kept slipping by. You guys were so busy, and with Kate and Javi... I didn’t want to ruin the high you were on.” 

He doesn’t react at first. Just stares at you—his eyes flicking between your face and your belly. 

Then it hits him. A thousand emotions all at once. Confusion. Hurt. A flicker of anger. Sadness. And finally, he lands back on hurt. 

“You’re going to do it alone?” he asks, tension threading through his words. 

You nod once, steady. “I’ll be fine.” 

“I don’t doubt that. You’ll be amazing. But you shouldn’t have to do it alone.” 

Your heart squeezes. Would he still be saying that if he knew who the guy really was? 

“I won’t be alone,” you say, resting a hand on your stomach. 

His eyes fall to your hand and linger there. You think his bottom lip might wobble, just for a second. But then he looks back up, brow creased. 

“You know we’re all here for you,” he says, voice strained. “We’re not going to let you do this on your own. I know you’re strong, but-” 

“It’s not your problem, Ty,” you cut in quickly, desperate to stop him before the tears start again. “It’s not anyone’s burden but mine—not that it’s a burden. But I was scared to tell you for a reason. I didn’t want you to freak out. I made this choice knowing it would change my life, and mine alone. I know I have support if I need it, but wait for me to ask. Not that I could ask any of you to stop your lives—stop doing what you love. I’d never do that. I’d never ask for more than you’re willing to give. So please believe me when I say... I’m happy about the choice I made. I’m excited to do this by myself. You need to live your life, Ty. Chase those storms. Chase your dreams. I’m good. I’ll be fine.” 

His expression is unreadable—somewhere between pain and disbelief. He just stares at you, silent, like he doesn’t recognize what he’s looking at. Not scared. Just... bewildered. 

The silence stretches, the only sound your uneven, too-loud breathing. 

Then, finally, he whispers, “But it’s not the same without you.” 

You roll your eyes, trying to keep it light. “Don’t be silly, Tyler. You’ve got Kate and Javi now. You probably didn’t even notice I was gone.” You pause. “And Kate seems great. I’m happy for you.” 

No, you’re not. But you’re getting better at lying. 

His gaze snaps from your belly back to your face, eyebrows drawn tight. “Happy for me?” 

You nod, forcing a smile. “Anyway, I really need a shower. That ultrasound goo gets everywhere. Want to catch up later? With the crew?” 

You need him gone. Now. Before you fall apart. 

“I—uh...” He glances around the room, like he’s trying to find an excuse to stay. “Yeah. They’ll want to see you.” 

You nod and head to the kitchen for your bag. “Could you do me a favour?” The guilt is immediate and sharp. How dare you ask anything of him right now? 

He nods. 

“Could you... tell them? Warn them?” You can’t meet his eyes, so you focus on the tear in the knee of his jeans as he approaches. 

“You want me to tell them?” 

“Yeah,” you murmur. “It’s just... been a lot. And the way you reacted—I don’t think I can take five more of those. If you could just warn them before we meet up... it would help.” 

Straight to hell. That’s where you’re headed. You’ve spent months trying not to burden him—and now this? 

He swallows hard and nods, eyes drifting to something on the counter. “Yeah... okay. I can do that.” 

You exhale, not realizing you were holding your breath. “Thanks, Ty.” 

He picks up the sonogram. “Is this the one from today?” 

“Oh.” As if she knows her dad is seeing her for the first time, your little girl wriggles. “Y-Yeah. That’s today.” 

His mouth twitches into a watery smile. “Can I take a photo? Then I can show the crew.” 

You nod, speechless, watching the way he looks at the picture. If he doesn’t leave soon, you’re going to cry and throw up all over him. 

He snaps the photo and tucks his phone away, gently placing the sonogram back on the counter. 

“You said you weren’t busy this afternoon?” he asks. 

You nod, throat tight. 

“Good. I’m sure they’ll want to see you soon. Maybe dinner? I’ll text you after I talk to them. I bet you know all the good places around here.” 

He’s speaking too fast, his eyes everywhere but your face. He wants out just as badly as you want him out. 

You walk him to the door, trying to smile. It’s pitiful. It feels like everything around you has stopped moving. His eyes are wide, glassy, full of something unfamiliar. But then again, do you even know him anymore? Four months is a long time. 

Before you can say goodbye, he steps forward and wraps his arms around you. Holds you like he means it. Like it’s the only thing keeping him together. 

Tears stream down your face, your shoulders shaking. The baby kicks—harder than ever—and you want to blame the pressure of Tyler’s hug. But then you wonder... does she know it’s him? 

The thoughts keep coming, hot and heavy, as your tears soak into the shoulder of his white shirt. 

After what feels like both forever and not long enough, he pulls away. His eyes rimmed with red. 

“I’ll text you,” he says hoarsely, then turns and walks down the hall. 

You shut the door—and collapse to the floor. You stay there for almost an hour. Crying. Thinking. And for the first time, wishing you’d just told him the truth from the start. Back at the gas station. Would it really have been that bad? 

You’re not so sure anymore. Because this? This doesn’t feel like the right thing. 

- Tyler - 

Tyler doesn’t remember how he got back to his truck in the grocery store parking lot. All he knows is that he’s in it now—but he doesn’t have the courage to drive. He doesn’t trust himself. His hands won’t stop shaking, his eyes are burning with tears, and his throat aches. When he closes his eyes, all he can see is you: your soft smile, your wide, tearful eyes, and that intrinsic glow—granted by your pregnancy, despite how clearly distressed you’d been. 

He can’t believe you’re pregnant. 

He tried so hard to be understanding, to not blow through you with every emotion that crashed down the moment he saw you. But it was so hard. He wanted to be angry that you didn’t tell him—but he knew he had no right. He didn’t have the right to be upset at all. You were clearly stressed about him finding out—about the crew finding out. 

But why? 

That’s what he can’t figure out. 

Sure, it might not have been planned. It’s going to turn your life upside down. But why wouldn’t you want your friends to know? He knows you’ve rationalised it—told yourself you didn’t want to burden them. But he also knows that you know better than that. Your friends wouldn’t feel burdened. They’d just want to be there for you. 

He just wants to be there for you. 

And as complicated as this whole thing is, it’s confusion that lingers the loudest. He’s confused about how he should feel, and confused about what he does feel. He thought he knew you—but right now, he’s not so sure. You’re still familiar... but different. 

The sharp chime of Tyler’s phone cuts through the silence of the truck cabin. He glances at where he tossed it on the passenger seat, just able to make out the text from Boone: ‘You good?’ 

No. 

He exhales slowly and turns the key, the truck rumbling to life around him. Then he grabs the phone and fires off a quick reply: ‘Be back in 10. Get everyone together for breakfast.’ 

Then he pulls out of the grocery store parking lot and starts rehearsing how he’s going to break the news to the crew. 

An hour later, in a quiet café on the other side of town with two small tables pulled together, Dani leans toward Tyler and blurts, “She’s what?!” 

Dexter chokes on his coffee, spluttering into his napkin, while Lily’s jaw drops mid-chew, revealing a messy mouthful of pancake. 

“She’s pregnant?” Boone asks, his voice calmer than Dani’s, though his eyes are still wide as saucers. 

Kate and Javi exchange a quick, uncertain glance, both clearly unsure how to react to the news that’s left half the crew reeling over their breakfast. 

“I can’t believe she didn’t say anything,” Dani says, her voice tight with offense. 

Lily finally swallows. “So that’s why she’s been avoiding us?” 

Dexter tips his head, eyes narrowing on Tyler. “How far along is she?” 

Tyler shrugs, his stomach twisting with nausea—though he’s not entirely sure why. It’s not like this is his big news. “She said she met the guy a few weeks after getting home. So... she’s probably around four months.” 

“Four months,” Dani echoes. “And she didn’t tell any of us?” 

Kate’s quiet laugh draws every eye to her. She quickly slaps a hand over her mouth. “Sorry,” she mumbles, wide-eyed. “I just—” She glances at Tyler, then looks around the table. “I mean, can you blame her? Look at how you’re all reacting.” 

Tyler frowns. “What do you mean?” 

Kate sighs and leans back in her chair. “No offense, but you’re all acting like this is about you. If this wasn’t planned—and it doesn’t sound like it was—then she’s probably just scared. Of course she was nervous to tell you guys. She probably knew how you’d react.” 

The group goes quiet then, effectively chastised. And Kate isn’t wrong—Tyler knows that. As someone less emotionally entangled in your situation than the rest of the crew, she can probably see it more clearly. Understand why you did what you did. 

But that doesn’t make Tyler feel any less conflicted. He still feels off. His palms are damp and his stomach won't stop twisting itself into nauseating knots. His heart is beating too fast, sitting high in his throat. And he can’t stop seeing your face—those tearful eyes, flushed cheeks, parted lips the moment you saw him again. 

For a fleeting moment, he’d been taken back to that night. The night where everything else blurred except for you. Your flushed face, kiss-bruised mouth, lips parted for him, breathless beneath him. The way you’d whispered his name like a secret, the sounds he drew from you with his hands and mouth, the feel of your skin against his. 

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t think about that night… a lot. At first, he tried not to. He couldn’t believe the lines he’d crossed, waking up with you in his arms at three a.m., your bare body pressed to his. He wasn’t even that drunk—just drunk on you. And God, he wanted nothing more than to pull you closer and fall back asleep. But panic had crept in. He had to get out. Had to breathe. 

The next day was awkward—mostly because he couldn’t stop seeing you the way he’d seen you the night before. He wanted to talk, to say something. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t risk burning down years of friendship for one selfish desire. So after about a week, he cracked a joke. You shot back with something sarcastic, and things felt… almost normal again. 

Until you left. 

And when you did, you took a piece of him with you. A big piece. One he doesn’t know how to get back—or if he even wants it back. 

“Hey.” Kate nudges her knee against Tyler’s. “You good?” 

The rest of the group has slipped into quiet conversation, murmuring among themselves about you and the baby. 

Tyler nods once, eyes fixed on nothing in particular as he fishes his phone from his back pocket. He opens it, pulls up the sonogram picture, and slides it across the table. 

“She had an ultrasound today,” he says, the words tasting like lead on his tongue. 

Lily’s eyes light up as she snatches the phone, gazing at the black-and-white photo. Dani leans over one shoulder, Dexter over the other, and it’s not hard to catch the soft smiles spreading across their faces. 

“I’m not saying you’re not allowed to be upset,” Kate says, her voice lowered just for him. “I just think... maybe consider how she’s feeling before you take too much of that out on her.” 

Tyler sighs and scrubs both hands over his face. “I tried to be calm. But it was so fucking hard. She kept crying.” 

Kate exhales a half-laugh. “Yeah, she’s pregnant. Whatever you think you’re feeling, multiply it by a thousand. That’s probably where she’s at.” 

The memory of your tear-streaked face hits him square in the chest, stealing the breath from his lungs. He’d felt so useless, even as he held you close. All he wants is to make things better. To go back, find you sooner, and give you everything you’ve needed but never asked for. 

“I just want to help,” Tyler mutters, his voice rough. “She said she’s happy to do it on her own, but... I want to be there.” 

“Then be there,” Kate says, brows furrowed like it’s the simplest truth in the world. “You don’t have to overstep or force your way back in. Just be her friend. Isn’t that what you’ve always been? Just because she thinks things have to change doesn’t mean they do. Show her that.” 

Tyler’s eyes flick to Dani, who now has his phone and is zooming in on the sonogram with an awed expression. 

“But things have changed,” he says, turning back to Kate. 

On her other side, Javi has his phone in front of his nose, but Tyler can tell from his posture that he’s still listening. 

“For her, yeah,” Kate replies. “Her whole world’s flipped. But for you? Not really. So be something that hasn’t changed. Something stable. Something she can still count on.” 

Tyler’s brows draw together, eyes starting to burn again from the now-familiar sting of tears. He knows Kate’s smart—but wise too? Suddenly, he feels like a kid who threw a tantrum he didn’t fully understand. 

“I mean,” Javi chimes in, the straw of his milkshake still at the corner of his mouth, “it’s not like you’re the father.” 

The words hit Tyler harder than they should. They sink into his skin and burn as they draw blood, the pain spreading through his chest. His skin prickles, heat rushes to his face, and his head goes a little light—like the floor’s been yanked out from under him. 

He’s not just angry that you didn’t tell him. Not just upset that you left, that you ran away from the crew with a half-assed excuse. He’s confused, yes—but underneath it all, he’s heartbroken. 

Because it’s not just about you being pregnant. It’s not about the distance, or how much everything suddenly feels so different. It’s the fact that you’re pregnant with someone else’s baby. 

Not his. 

And for the first time, the weight of it truly hits him— 

He wants it to be his. 

“Ouch!” Javi hisses as Kate smacks him on the back of the head. “What was that for?” 

She rolls her eyes. “Not reading the room.” 

“Shit,” Javi mutters, leaning forward past Kate to see Tyler—a very shocked-looking Tyler. “Sorry, man.” 

Tyler tries to shake his head, but it’s slow, almost robotic. “It’s fine,” he mutters, voice barely above a whisper. 

Kate rests a hand on his knee and leans toward him. “Are you sure you’re okay?” 

He opens his mouth, but hesitates. He was going to say yes—but that would be a lie. He’s not okay. He hasn’t been okay since you left. 

Kate’s brows draw together, her head tilting slightly. “You’re not, like... just realizing you’re totally in love with her, are you?” 

Tyler’s green gaze snaps to her face, a jolt of electricity running down his spine at hearing those words said out loud. 

“Oh, Tyler...” she sighs, a small, knowing smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Wake up.” 

He’s always known he loves you—of course he does. But in love with you? Maybe it should’ve been obvious. He hasn’t felt fully human without you by his side. There’s been a gaping hole in his chest since the day you left—because you took his heart with you. 

It always has been yours. He just never really thought about it that hard. He’s just always known, deep down, from the very beginning, that he belongs to you. 

And he’s always thought of you as his. Never questioned it, even through your crappy boyfriends and his meaningless hookups. Some part of him was sure you’d always come back. That at the end of the day—after the storm—you’d be his again. 

But now? Now some other guy has a claim on you. And he knows it’s selfish. He knows it’s primal. But God, he fucking hates it. 

After breakfast, the crew heads back to the motel. They try to work—and try even harder to pull Tyler out of whatever existential wormhole he’s fallen into—but it’s not easy. He spends most of the day staring into space, half-listening (at best) to anyone who speaks. Eventually, they give up and leave him to it. 

Lily ends up messaging you about dinner, since Tyler’s too dazed to even type a text. You agree to meet at a restaurant downtown, halfway between your place and the crew’s motel. 

“Okay, pal,” Kate sighs as she drops into the lawn chair beside Tyler’s. “You’re starting to worry us.” 

Lily drops into the chair on his other side, braced like she might have to chase him if he bolts. 

“Are you going to be alright tonight?” Kate asks gently. 

Tyler nods—slow, uncertain. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“Because you’ve been a damn zombie all day,” Lily snaps. “You think acting like this is going to make her feel loved and supported?” 

There’s a beat of silence before she speaks again, her tone sharp. “The answer is no. So get your shit together.” 

Tyler turns to Kate, frowning. “Why is she being mean to me?” 

Kate rolls her eyes for what feels like the thousandth time today. “Because you’re being a child. So what, you’re in love with your best friend who’s now pregnant with some random guy’s baby? Suck it up. Start acting normal—or you’ll just make her feel worse.” 

Tyler lets out a long, dramatic sigh and tips his head back. “I can’t.” 

“Yes, you can,” Lily says. “Come on—practice talking about baby stuff with us.” 

Kate perks up. “Good idea. Ask us about being pregnant.” 

Tyler slowly lowers his head and gives Kate a flat stare. “This is dumb. I’m not going to make things awkward. I’ll be fine.” 

“Then why have you walked away from every conversation about babies today?” Lily fires back. 

“Just try,” Kate pleads. “Let’s just talk about her, okay? And no deflecting.” 

Tyler groans but doesn’t argue, silently accepting the assignment. 

Kate folds her hands in her lap and leans in like an interviewer. “So, you said she’s got an apartment here—did you see the nursery?” 

“No,” Tyler replies, nausea twisting in his gut. Just thinking about that visit makes him uneasy. “Wasn’t exactly a show-and-tell kind of vibe.” 

Kate sighs. “I get that. But just work with us.” 

“I’ve got one,” Lily chimes in. “Did she say she’s having any weird cravings?” 

Tyler shakes his head. “No.” Then, at her expectant look, he adds, “But she was buying some sugary cereal when I ran into her. I think she told the cashier it was the baby’s favourite breakfast.” 

Lily nods, satisfied. 

Kate clears her throat. “Did she say how far along she is?” 

“Not exactly,” Tyler says. “But from what she did say, I’m guessing around eighteen weeks.” He did the math—counting from the day you left the crew, assuming you met ‘the guy’ maybe three or four weeks later. 

“Nuh-uh,” Lily says, brows pinched as she shakes her head. “She’s twenty-two weeks.” 

Tyler’s heart skips. “What? How do you know?” 

“It’s on the sonogram, stupid.” 

His pulse kicks up, head spinning, hands suddenly numb as he fumbles for his phone. He yanks it from his back pocket and pulls up the image, squinting at the screen. 

Lily sighs and takes it from him, zooming in on the small print in the corner. “See? Twenty-two weeks.” 

Kate says something, but Tyler doesn’t hear her. All he hears is the blood pounding in his ears. Loud. Fast. Deafening. 

Twenty-two weeks. That’s five and a half months. You’ve only been gone four months and three weeks. 

That leaves three weeks. 

Three weeks you were still with the crew. Still with him. 

Somewhere in those three weeks… you got pregnant. 

The world tilts. He blinks, once—twice—but everything stays blurry. The thought barrels through him like a freight train. It doesn’t make sense—shouldn’t make sense—but it does. The timeline. The things you said. The look on your face when you saw him. His stomach drops as the pieces slam into place, sharp and undeniable. 

Holy shit. 

“Tyler,” Kate says, her hand closing over his shoulder. 

Lily frowns again. “You’re supposed to be acting normal, dude. You can’t keep freezing like that.” 

“I have to go,” he mutters, shooting to his feet. 

Kate blinks. “Where?” 

“I’ll meet you guys at the restaurant.” He’s gone before they can respond, feet already pounding the pavement. 

He throws himself into the truck and jams the key in the ignition, peeling out of the motel lot fast enough to make the tires squeal. 

His grip tightens on the steering wheel as the truck barrels down the street, heart pounding like a war drum. The shock is still there, curling cold and sharp in his chest, but the panic has started to harden. Settle. Sharpen. He’s not going to lose it. Not now. If this really adds up—if the impossible is true—then he needs answers. Not anger. He sucks in a breath through his nose, jaw locked tight. 

He’s not going there to yell. He’s going there to hear it. To look you in the eye and make you say it— 

The truth. 

- You - 

You stand in front of your closet with your hands on your hips, trying to figure out what still fits and also looks decent enough for a nice restaurant. You picked a nice place on purpose—you haven’t been out in months. Literally. Most of your friends have been too busy chasing tornadoes while you’ve been stuck in this town, growing a baby. And while you’re not angry about the choices you’ve made, you’re more than a little excited to be getting out for the first time in what feels like forever. 

You’re feeling a lot better than you did a few hours ago. After a solid hour of crying on the floor, you dragged yourself into the shower and stayed there until your fingers pruned. Then you wrapped yourself in two towels, curled up on your bed, and passed out. When you woke up, your phone was full of messages—hearts, check-ins, a few sweet “can’t wait to see you” texts—and you decided that maybe you’d been overreacting. 

Sure, seeing Tyler had been the emotional peak of the last five and a half months, but that’s over now. And yeah, things might still be awkward. A little tense. But the secret’s out, and your story had him convinced—hook, line, and sinker. He was just emotional because he missed you. Because you’re best friends, and this is the longest you’ve ever gone without each other. 

You’d thought about telling him the truth earlier, while curled up on the floor. But once the initial wreckage settled, you remembered why you hadn’t. Just to be sure, you went back and rewatched Corey’s YouTube interview. It still stung—maybe even more than the first time—but it did what it was supposed to: reminded you to stay strong. Because when it comes to Tyler Owens, strength is not your strong suit. 

A knock echoes through the apartment and jolts you into motion. You yank a pair of thick black leggings from the drawer and wrestle into them while shuffling toward your bedroom door, grabbing an oversized knit sweater on the way. 

“Coming!” you call, your voice muffled as you pull the sweater over your head. 

Random visitors aren’t exactly uncommon. Your neighbour Marge likes to accuse you of stealing her newspapers, and you’ve definitely forgotten about more than a few online orders until the delivery driver comes knocking 

You reach the door and tug the sweater down over your bump before pulling it open. 

“Tyler,” you breathe, startled, taking an automatic step back. “You’re—uh—you’re like an hour early.” 

Lily had mentioned he’d be picking you up—something about saving you the cab fare. You hadn’t objected, for obvious reasons, but you’d hoped for at least enough time to do your hair and makeup. 

Still, he looks infuriatingly good. He’s swapped his white tee for a red plaid flannel, the top few buttons undone down to his sternum. His hair’s a tousled mess, like he’s been running his hands through it all day, and he’s holding his cowboy hat in one hand. 

“Yeah,” he says, a little breathless. “Figured we could catch up some more.” 

Did he drive here? Or run? 

“Um, okay. Sure,” you say, stepping back further. 

He nods as he walks in, kicking off his boots by the door before heading toward the lounge. But he doesn’t sit—he just stands there, stiff and distant, eyes scanning the room like he’s searching for something specific. 

“I was just getting ready,” you say, slipping into the kitchen. “Mind if I do the quick version before we... catch up?” 

He shakes his head and sets his hat on the coffee table, still glancing around like he’s casing the place. 

“Want a drink?” you ask, watching him carefully. 

“I’m good,” he says. 

“Okay,” you mutter, and retreat toward your room. So much for taking your time and enjoying getting ready. 

Maybe he’s just trying to be nice after this morning. Or maybe the others sent him here to smooth things over before they all see you for the first time in over four months—baby bump and all. 

“How far along did you say you were?” Tyler calls, poking his head into your room. 

You jump, dropping the sock you were trying to pull on. “Oh... um, about four-ish months.” 

He narrows his eyes but doesn’t press, just leans in the doorway, quietly taking in the space. 

This can’t be good. 

“When are you due?” he asks. 

“Five-ish months,” you shoot back with a smirk. 

His lip twitches, almost smiling—and it still gets you. That little flicker of him is enough to stir your heart. 

Then he asks, “What did you say the dad’s name was again?” 

You freeze mid-step toward the ensuite. “I didn’t.” 

“Oh...” His nod is slow, satisfied, like he was waiting for that. 

“It’s Todd,” you blurt, turning quickly and disappearing into the bathroom. 

Behind you, he scoffs. “Todd.” 

Yeah, this isn’t good. Tyler’s onto something. What, you don’t know. But you can feel it—he’s circling like a shark, toying with you before he bites. 

“So, when exactly did you find out you were pregnant?” he asks, stepping into view in the mirror behind you. 

The hairs on your neck rise. “About three weeks after I slept with him.” 

His eyes lock on yours in the mirror, steady and sharp as you try to run a comb through your damp hair. 

“What did he say when you told him?” 

You shrug, trying to appear unaffected. “Not much. He was shocked. Asked if I was keeping it, and I said yes. Told him it was fine if he wanted out. He took it.” 

Tyler shifts, raising one arm to lean against the doorframe. He’s filling the small bathroom doorway with his body—and you’re suddenly very aware of how broad his shoulders are, how strong his arms are, remembering the way he’d thrown you around that night... 

The memory slams into you, heat creeping between your thighs. You shift, pressing your legs together. 

He notices. That tiny smirk returning as he leans in a little more, boxing you in. 

“Bit strange, don’t you think?” he says, voice low. “Knowing you’re having a kid and not wanting anything to do with it. Sounds like a dirtbag move.” 

Anger slices through your chest. “Yeah, well. Some people just don’t see themselves settling down.” 

The words are out before you realise—they're his words, from the interview. 

His eyes narrow. “Who said anything about settling down? Kids don’t ruin lives.” 

You scoff, avoiding his gaze. “No, they just stop you from pursuing your dreams.” 

Another quote. Damn that interview. Damn you for watching it again. But the way he’s interrogating you is pissing you off. What right does he have? He’s the one who told the world he’d resent anyone who gave him a kid. 

And here he is, acting like he cares. 

A heavy breath hangs in the air as you trade your hairbrush for a makeup brush, leaning closer to the mirror. Tyler’s eyes stay locked on you—intense, unwavering, a little too focused. 

Then his voice slices clean through the silence. 

“Why didn’t you use birth control?” 

White-hot fury flares up your spine, lighting your cheeks on fire as you spin to face him. He doesn’t blink. Doesn’t recoil. He just stands there with that same infuriating glint in his eye—smug, steady, unreadable. His posture is so relaxed it makes your skin crawl, like he didn’t just drop a live grenade into the middle of your lie. 

“You know I’m not on birth control,” you snap, your voice low and trembling with rage. “And the condom. Fucking. Broke.” 

The second it’s out of your mouth, you want to drag it back in. You could’ve said anything else—something careless, something wild, something stupid. But instead, you gave him truth wrapped in a lie—and now the whole thing is starting to crack. 

“That so?” he murmurs, eyes dark. “Crazy how that happened... twice in a row.” 

Your jaw clenches. “Clearly I need to buy a new box of condoms.” 

He lets out a dry, humourless laugh and leans in closer, eyes glittering. “That was my condom that broke.” 

Your breath comes faster now, chest tight, nerves sparking under your skin like live wires. You can’t even remember the lie you rehearsed. Your heart’s thundering, the baby is moving restlessly in your belly—like she feels your panic. Like she knows. 

“Maybe you and Todd use the same damn brand,” you mutter, spinning back toward the vanity and gripping the edge like it might hold you steady. 

“You just said you need to buy a new box,” he presses, relentless. “Does Todd leave his condoms here?” 

You grit your teeth, drop your chin, and breathe in through your nose. “Jesus, Tyler. I’m sorry I don’t remember every single detail.” 

You hear him shift. Feel the heat of him behind you. Too close. 

“You wanna know what I think?” he asks, voice low and dangerous. 

You turn, slowly, heart in your throat. He’s so close now your belly nearly brushes his belt and you have to press against the vanity for space. 

You meet his eyes. “What do you think, Tyler?” 

He tilts his head, just slightly. “I think you remember the night you got pregnant like it just happened. I think it’s carved into your brain. And I think you’re tripping over your story right now because you can’t forget what it felt like. Because it was so damn good, you don’t want to forget it.” 

Panic coils in your chest like a gathering storm—rising fast, twisting tight, pushing a tangled mess of guilt and frustration up your throat. Your breath catches on it, your lungs stuck somewhere between inhale and breakdown. And then it spills over. Tears blur your vision before you can even try to blink them back, heavy and hot as they streak down your cheeks—weighted with remorse and something close to desperation. 

Tyler is frozen in place, wide-eyed and still, his lips parted like he’s trying to speak but the words won’t come. You can see the regret flicker there—he hadn’t meant to be cruel, not like that. But it doesn’t matter. Whatever version of the truth he’s starting to piece together... he’s probably right. 

And still, you can’t say it. Not yet. 

Instead, you swipe at your cheeks with the sleeve of your sweater and slip past him, your shoulder brushing his arm as you squeeze out of the bathroom. You cross the room on shaky legs and drop onto the bed, curling in on yourself as a raw sob breaks free and rattles from your chest. You bury your face in your hands, wishing the ground would swallow you whole. 

Tyler doesn’t move at first. The silence stretches and settles around you, thick and stifling. But then comes the soft creak of the floorboards beneath his feet as he steps closer. Slowly. Carefully. Like he’s approaching a wounded animal. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, his voice low and rough, like he’s choking on his own emotion. “That was too harsh.” 

You don’t look up. Not yet. You can’t. 

“I didn’t mean to come at you like that,” he continues, voice gentler now. “I got caught up—and I guess I’ve been walking around with all this shit in my chest. Then I saw you again, and it just... it all hit me. I’ve been pretending I’m fine, like it didn’t gut me when you left. But it did. You took more of me with you than I ever realised.” 

Your fingers shift, just enough to peek through them—and there he is, kneeling beside the bed, one hand resting near your thigh but not quite touching. His eyes search yours, glassy with emotion he’s clearly trying to hold back. 

“I love you,” he says, barely above a whisper. “I did before all of this—before you left, before... the baby. I’ve always loved you. That night wasn’t a mistake. And honestly? I wasn’t even that drunk. I just—needed you. I still do. I need you more than anything.” 

You swallow hard. 

“But not more than you need the chase,” you mutter, tears spilling again. “Right? Because that’s it for you. That’s the dream, and you’ve worked too damn hard to give it up.” 

He blinks. Confused. Then his brows furrow as recognition dawns. You can see it hit him—he remembers. 

You let out a shaky breath and slide your hand over his. “I don’t want you to resent me, Ty. I don’t want you to give up what you love. You’ve got an out.” 

His eyes widen, locking onto yours like he’s just now realising what you’re trying to say. 

“You can still walk away,” you whisper. 

He stares at you, frozen—like your words knocked the air clean out of his lungs. His mouth opens slightly, but no sound comes out. His brows knit tighter, his hand shifting beneath yours. 

Then, after a beat, he whispers, “Are you serious?” 

You don’t answer. You can’t. You just look at him, eyes brimming, heart thundering in your chest like it’s trying to burst out and reach for him itself. 

His throat works around a swallow. Then he says it—low and broken and burning. 

“Didn’t you hear me?” His voice cracks. “I fucking love you. More than anything. More than storms and chasing and everything I’ve ever been stupid enough to think mattered more. That interview... it was bullshit. I wasn’t thinking—I wasn’t thinking about you. Because with you, I want all of it.” 

Then he moves. 

There’s no breath between the words and the moment he surges forward—like he’s been holding himself back for years and finally snapped. His mouth crashes into yours, hot and searing, all teeth and desperation and need. One hand tangles in your hair, the other pulls you toward him with a grip that says he’s never letting go again. 

It steals your breath. Steals your thoughts. Your hands fist in his shirt as you kiss him back just as fiercely, matching the fire with one that’s been simmering in your chest since the day you left. 

There’s nothing soft about it. It’s raw and reckless and messy, and it tastes like every unsaid word, every sleepless night, every broken piece finally slamming back into place. 

It feels like the truth. 

Between frantic kisses, you whisper against his lips, “I love you.” 

You feel his mouth curve into a smile before he murmurs, “Fuck, I’ve missed you.” 

The kisses slow, soften—his tongue sweeping against yours with aching intention, like he’s trying to memorise every inch of you, every breath. The hand tangled in your hair slides down to cradle your neck, while the other one drifts to your waist, settling gently against the curve of your swollen belly. 

Then the baby kicks—hard. Harder than she ever has. You both jolt. 

“Shit,” you whisper, hands flying to your stomach. “Sorry.” 

Tyler stares, completely still. He looks unfairly beautiful like this—flushed cheeks, kiss-swollen lips, wide, glassy eyes locked on your belly. He looks like he’s just witnessed something holy. Something impossible. 

“Why are you sorry?” he asks, eyes flicking up to yours. 

You shrug, brushing your damp cheeks with the sleeve of your sweater. “She doesn’t usually kick that hard. I guess she’s getting stronger.” 

His eyes shimmer. “She?” 

You nod, the ghost of a smile on your lips. “Yeah. We’re having a baby girl.” 

His bottom lip trembles, a small, stunned smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “We?” 

A shaky laugh bubbles up as fresh tears spill down your cheeks. “Yes, Tyler. She’s yours.” 

His tears fall freely now, trailing down his flushed cheeks, but he doesn’t move. He doesn’t even blink. He just looks at you like you’ve hung the moon—just for him. 

“I’m yours too,” you whisper, voice trembling. “We’re all yours.” 

Then he’s kissing you again—wet and messy and full of everything you’ve both been carrying for months. You’re crying, he’s crying, but neither of you care. You just hold on—breathing hard, laughing softly—lips meeting again and again as you both sink into the familiar shape of each other… into home. 

END.

[district-thirteen-intern]

Katniss Everdeen says Peeta wanted kids. I say Katniss Everdeen is a dirty little liar who spent three books projecting baby fever onto the softest man alive while denying it so hard she almost gaslit herself.

And because I'm tired of arguing that Peeta didn't force Katniss to have kids, here's my probable version of what went down:

baby fever, but make it apocalyptic — everlark

it starts when delly has a baby

and katniss gets to hold it and it squeaks

her uterus literally tingles

cue immediate panic

she hands it back like it burned her

and then she immediately goes outside to shoot at squirrels until the feeling goes away

except—

(it doesn't really go away)

the next two weeks are a torture

"not everyone deserves to be a parent"

"what if they cry a lot"

"what if they're angry like me"

"what if they're allergic to bread"

"what if our child hates me"

"what if our child hates peeta"

no

no one can hate peeta

"but what if—"

it's exhausting

she steers clear of delly and her spawn the next few days

it doesn't work

her nightmares take a strange turn

she sees herself carrying a baby through the woods as she hunts

the baby giggles

another baby sits on the kitchen counter

with peeta's eyes and peeta's face

in matching aprons as peeta

and ugh—

she almost misses the mutts

anyway, she reorganizes the pantry

alphabetizes the herbs

knits something she insists is a herb pouch

but it's suspiciously baby-sized

eventually, it gets too much

and peeta is not helping

he's holding delly's baby when she visits him at the bakery

the baby is laughing

well, fuck

her whole resolve crumbles

he's making bread

she blurts, "your forearms are nice"

"thanks?"

"mm, they would be good for carrying things"

peeta raises a brow

"heavy things— like... sacks"

"sacks."

"or— like, baskets."

katniss is embarassed

peeta is visibly confused

and haymitch—

haymitch is dying of laughter

"did you know babies can't see color for weeks?"

"katniss."

"i just wanted to share a fact."

"katniss."

"it didn't mean anything. shut up."

and then she starts knitting a tiny hat

“is that for delly’s baby?”

"no."

"a friend’s baby?”

"no.”

"...katniss.”

peeta has suspicions

and they're confirmed when he finds her journal open to a page

titled: NAMES FOR HYPOTHETICAL BABY

Ember

Rue Rue ❤

Bread Jr.

NOT GALE

it ends like this—

Peeta, eventually: “Do you want to have ki—”

“YES”

“i didn’t even finish the word”

"i mean... i will if I have to, if you want too much... i mean i want to if you want to, i mean— because i love you so much."

“are you sure?”

“are you sure?”

"uh huh”

oh.

katniss blinks

"wait— that's it?"

"katniss, i've been waiting for you to stop glitching long enough to bring it up.”

she punches his arm

he laughs

haymitch starts prepping a baby-proof survival kit

no one dares ask what's in it

nine months later—

the baby is just as beautiful as she imagined

good thing peeta convinced her to have babies, really

i know it's exaggerated for comedy purposes but this is really not that far from the course of events i imagine happened— katniss is an expert at gaslighting herself after all— and I hope you liked it.

please don't forget to like, comment, and reblog if you liked it. and lmk if you'd be interested in being added to a tag list.

[theachinghunger-if]

We need to talk about Sebastian

Okay guys, I've been seeing a lot of Sebastian love lately, which is great! But there's something important that I want to address, that I'm going to add (in shorter words) to the intro post as well. First and foremost: Sebastian's romance is not a fluffy, feely romance. It is built off of lies at best, and purposeful manipulation at worst. There are only two ways to successfully romance Sebastian: you either have to make sure that he never finds out that you murdered Max, or you have to isolate him from everyone else so entirely that he becomes unhealthily reliant on the MC, which is abuse, plain and simple. You can also cause him bodily harm (though this has nothing to do with his romance and entirely has to do with the MC in a very particular situation).

Sebastian is an RO because I think that his dynamic with the MC would be interesting to explore. But he's not just going to trip over and forgive the person who murdered his best friend willy-nilly. And because of this, the MC must go to dire lengths to maintain his affection.

Honestly, while the feelings/affection involved might be real, Sebastian's romance is less of a love story and more of a pyschological horror when you think about it from his perspective. And I've been trying to breadcrumb subtle hints, but I feel like that hasn't been working given the reactions I've seen, so I just figured that I'd say it outright.

I do apologize to anyone who wanted a sweet, wholesome romance with him. But I've thought long and hard about this, and I just don't think that it's realistic. I figured that I'd let y'all know about this now, so that people still have time to bow out.

[thefaiao]

Here's a portrait I did based on the movie Hackers (1995), which I'm posting on its own because I want to talk about this movie!

I had never watched the movie before working on this commission, but it was truly magical to watch. I've been kind of taking in what I watched over the last days and it has given me so many thoughts that I don't even know to begin. Watching without any knowledge of how the movie was received, I was shocked to learn that there is a major split in opinions about the movie, which has left me completely puzzled. How can a movie, that in my eyes is simply phenomenal, be even able to receive such negative reviews to this day?

I think the keyword here is what I used to describe the movie: magical. There is a magic circle that needs to be accepted and entered for you to truly enjoy the movie, and see how the silly sequences are a depiction of reality that is juiced up, and not a substitute of reality. If you just take the movie at face value, you won't be able to appreciate how this effect works. You'll think just because an interface is translated as two obvious HACK buttons, they can in no way actually be depicting hacking. But they are, the movie does a lot to show its appreciation and love for the scene, with accurate references to relevant books, multiple little "tricks" like phreaking and resetting the phone to call someone other than your lawyer when you get arrested. You can appreciate that effort and also how it was dressed up to resonate more with a larger audience, and keep the movie's amazing pace!

Now there are also things that maybe were taken for granted in movies of this time. The set design and costumes are fantastic, and somehow still feel fresh today. Maybe they are not realistic but they are effortlessly cool in a way I think almost no one does well nowadays. All the characters are visually strong and are immediately identifiable, on top of having great chemistry and represent a decent variety of archetypes. Despite being a movie, it communicates strongly that this world is bursting with life and character, that the game is not set, and that there is still future ahead of us. They have a scene of the main guy wearing lingerie in a dream, and the main girl joyously, sincerely smiles at the thought. That is a deep understanding of the human spirit.

Yet it kills me! It kills me that people watch this movie and think it's "terrible" or "cringy", that they don't have eyes to see how much heart it has. People have convinced themselves that reality can only exist within their brain specifically, that there is no use for magic, even in movies, even in books and games. What's the point of being smart if you just want all the answers handed to you? The abstraction is not a defect, it's a working piece.

The people who saw the world through these cold lens have removed all of the punk and empowerment that the movie champions. They boiled down the culture to just code and went on to make lame companies that serve to optimize suffering and take the people's ability to actually interface and express themselves through computers and electronics as a whole.

You can accept both the material reality and understand the purpose of abstraction and interpretation beyond furthering material gain. Perhaps the movie didn't intend to show me such a complex message, but that's what I got from it, and it gave me room to interpret it that way, allowed me to be curious.

That's all I have to say. Maybe I'm preaching to the crowd, but whatever. When you approach something, have heart! Without your heart, your head would have no blood, and your mind, no thoughts. Treasure, and use, it!

[miedei]

what can i do for you?

hiding your relationship doesn't exactly go according to plan, not when you have two good-natured coworkers armed with a magazine. (aka the love languages fic i've been neglecting)

a/n: this has been in my drafts since december omfg. not totally sure how i feel about it but i like it i think!! title's from what can i do for you by penelope road :)

cw: reader has she/her pronouns, established relationship, sneaking around, lots of fluff, garcia and morgan being super nosy and oblivious at the same time, also reader collects shot glasses in this one because i do that too and what i say goes

wc: 3.3k

mlist

(reblogs are the only way to promote fics on tumblr! please reblog if you enjoyed it :) )

His hand in yours is warm, warmer than it should be considering the cool breeze that hits as you walk out of the metro station. A rush of giddiness rolls over you, scrutinizing the domestic comfort of this moment.

Four months of whispered affirmations and nights holed up in either of your apartments have led you to feeling more in love with him than you thought was possible. Even just contemplating it brings a rush of blood to your face, forcing you to huddle closer to him, leaning your cheek against the puffy exterior of his coat. 

Without looking, you can feel his shoulders shake in silent laughter, your mind conjuring the image of his lips pressed together, suppressing the giggles you know are threatening to burst out of him. 

“Cold?” The amusement bubbles up in his tone, and you both know that your uncharacteristically shy demeanour has nothing to do with the temperature. His hand comes up to rub at your shoulder comfortingly. He’s awful.

“I hate dating profilers.” Despite your words, your mouth twitches up into a smile.

“Well, I love dating a profiler. And as a profiler, I can tell you do too.” A mock-exasperated sigh leaves your mouth at his words, but you make no move to part from him.

It’s only when the imposing Quantico buildings come into view that you finally step away from him, hand slipping out of his. His lips quirk up as he eyes you. 

“You think they’d be suspicious, us showing up in the elevator at the same time every day.” 

“Don’t jinx it! We’re lucky they haven’t been insinuating themselves into every part of our lives yet.” You step into the elevator, leaning against the wall and staring him down.

“Hey, if they figure it out, did you know it’s statistically more likely that it’ll be because of you? You touch my shoulder on average 17 times a day. Even when we’re on a case.”

“Oh, don’t start. How many times did you almost call me ‘angel’ yesterday? I can’t believe Hotch hasn’t noticed, especially that one time in his office.” It’s gratifying to see the apples of his cheeks redden with embarrassment. 

Stepping into the bullpen, you step away from him, striding to your desk and calling out greetings.

“Morning, guys. What’s that?” 

Emily and Derek are huddled over Garcia, who’s sitting in Derek’s desk chair with a magazine in hand. 

“Well, sweetheart, someone’s missing their monthly Teen Vogue, it’s accidentally been delivered here instead. We’re just catching up on what the young female populace is doing these days.” Garcia answers absentmindedly, their eyes all fixed on the glossy pages.

“Teen Vogue? Need I remind you, we’re in the FBI. Surely you’ve got work to do.” You stare pointedly at the stacks of paperwork piling up on Emily and Derek’s desks.

“If you must know, this is research, kid. How are we supposed to do our jobs if we don’t know the interests of such a huge potential victim pool?” Derek croons over to you, voice sugary-sweet.

Garcia calls out to you. “Did you know that, apparently, even unconsciously, if a person is in love, they will always demonstrate the 5 love languages to whoever they’re into?”

She holds up the magazine, open to a glossy blue page with ‘LOVE LANGUAGES’ etched on it in swirly handwriting.

You can see Spencer tilt his head at his desk, and beat him to the punch. 

“Are you sure that’s true, Penny? Doesn’t seem very statistically sound.”

“There’s actually been very little scientific research done into the concept of love languages as they’re considered colloquially, and what little there is really doesn’t support it as an actual concept that strengthens relationships.” Spencer chimes in, swivelling back and forth in his desk chair as he muses. 

Emily chuckles, wisely retreating to her desk as Penelope and Derek begin to puff up like irritated cats. 

“Yeah? And what would you know about that, pretty boy? Had some experience lately?” 

It’s clearly meant in a joking way, no real accusation behind it, but Spencer’s eyes widen just a fraction. Enough to bring their attention to it. Enough to get them to pounce. 

You shake your head softly, turning to your desk as Derek and Penelope descend on him, peppered questions being met with resolute silence (and occasional sputtering).

It’s a solid 30 minutes before the two of them let up on Spencer, and that’s only because JJ sweeps through with a case for the team. As you all file into the briefing room, it’s clear Penelope and Derek are still scrutinizing Spencer from across the round table. 

As JJ explains the details of the case, you can’t help but smile at the sight of Spencer patting his reddened cheeks, trying to come down from the mortification and stress of fending off the others. 

In a lull in conversation, you rise from your seat, crossing the room to the pot of coffee sitting under the window. Snatching up two distinctive mugs, you set about pouring coffee, adding copious amounts of sugar into one and considerably less into another, as you muse aloud about the case. 

“Sounds like the victimology is pretty clear. Young men in their 20s, all successful academics who have relatively small social circles,” With the two mugs in hand, you return to the table, setting the FBI logo-emblazoned one in front of Spencer with a discreet brush of your knuckles to his shoulder. 

He looks up with a soft smile, nudging his shoulder back into you, mouthing thank you.

“Should help us narrow down who would’ve interacted with them all.” You finish, settling down in your seat in between Rossi and Emily. 

Hotch nods. 

“The local PD’s already got a few people of interest in mind, but they’re holding off on questioning until we arrive. Garcia, you’re coming with us, the victims’ tech is proving difficult for the local experts to get into. Hopefully this will be a quick one. Wheels up in 30.”

There are multiple decisive nods around the table, most of you standing to grab your go-bags.

Notably, Penelope and Derek stay behind, watching you leave the room with unreadable expressions on their faces. 

If you’d stayed, you might have caught her pulling a glossy, torn-out piece of paper out of Derek’s pocket, crossing off a phrase.

The police department you find yourselves in is more sparse than you’d expected. The police force spread thin, there are only a few officers still in the building. The setting sun filters through the blinds, casting a warm glow over the conference room. 

“...So, we’ll spend this evening going through the details, and I’m confident we’ll have a profile by tomorrow morning. Based on that, we can see whether any of your suspects fit.”

Hotch’s no-nonsense voice cuts through the light chatter in the room, and the local captain nods. The two superiors walk out of the room to the captain’s office, leaving you with the rest of your team and a local officer. 

Nodding politely at the officer, you walk over to the large table, digging into the copious boxes of evidence stacked on the table and murmuring your initial thoughts to Emily. 

“The victims were all part of the city’s chess league, save for the second one. That seems significant.”

Before she gets the chance to reply, a brutish officer in uniform butts in, shouldering past Emily to take the seat next to you. 

“So, you guys get a lot of these murder cases, huh? This is pretty huge for us, but I guess it’s everyday for you.”

There’s a glint of morbid curiosity in his eye, leaning into your space as he waits for your answer. 

“Um, yes, we’re assigned to murder cases from time to time. But we also consult on all sorts of crimes, like—”

He waves a hand in the air, as if dismissing your statement.

“Yeah, uh-huh. What’s the craziest murder you’ve seen? You know, the real gory ones.”

He’s scooted closer to you now, his face lit up with excitement. Out of the corner of your eye you can see Spencer start towards you, but you’d rather shut this down yourself.

“I mean, yes, we do see quite a bit of violent crime. But the aim of our unit is to shut it down, not sensationalize it. So, we kind of need all of our attention on this case right now. You understand, right?” You try not to, but a hint of exasperation creeps into your tone.

A flash of irritation sparks in his eyes, but the officer backs down, rising out of the seat and tossing a half-hearted agreement at you. 

You sigh as he leaves the room, and Spencer makes his way over to you with a wry smile. 

“I’m glad you dealt with him, I wouldn’t be able to do it as quickly. You’re always so good at dealing with people like that, ang—” He cuts himself off abruptly, eyes darting around the room nervously. 

Holding in a laugh at his slip up, you nudge his foot under the table.

“Thanks, Spencer. I appreciate that.”

After he not-so-discreetly attempts to see if anyone noticed his failure to maintain the facade, the two of you settle in to the casework.

Notably, Derek only gets to work after holding a hushed conversation with Penelope at her laptop.

Presenting a profile is always exhausting, but doing it first thing in the morning after basically pulling an all-nighter is worse.

You stand in front of the gathered crowd alongside the team, alternating with explaining different aspects of the profile. Once you’re done waxing poetic about the presumed trigger that set off the string of murders, you get to sit back and let Derek do the last bit (thank god).

Leaning against the edge of the desk behind you, you put a lot of effort into looking stoic and professional, hoping the gathered agents and officers can’t see the exhaustion oozing out of you. Although it seems an eternity, it’s probably another five minutes of talking until they’re dismissed, and the team gathers in the conference room. 

Hotch looks surprisingly alert, standing at the head of the table and gesturing to different points of interest on the map mounted on the wall. His voice drones on, your drowsy ears registering each sentence a few seconds after. 

“Prentiss and Rossi, you two stay here and question the suspects that the uniforms are bringing in. There’s probably nothing to it, but give it a try anyway.” 

Resting your hip against the table, you stare bleary-eyed at the various faces tacked on to the whiteboard. Despite the coffee in your hands slowly bringing you back to life, you can’t help but muffle a yawn, your upper body swaying with the force of it. 

“Morgan, JJ, you go down to the local news station, see if the tips they’re receiving are actually any good. One of their reporters has been into the PD every day asking for updates. Find out if it’s anything more than journalistic curiosity.”

Spencer steps up next to you, nudging your shoulder with his. Without saying anything, his eyes lull you into a sense of ease. Looking around to see that everyone’s staring at Hotch, you can’t help but lean into him slightly, the lines of your upper arms melding together until your bodies press against each other pleasantly. 

 A soft sigh leaves his lips, and you’re inclined to agree with him. Just this level of touch has you melting, the tension in your body slowly seeping out of your bones. 

“L/N and I are going to meet with the families of the first and second victims. Reid and Garcia, go to the workplace of the latest victim. His computer system needs your expertise, Garcia, and Reid, you take the time to interview his coworkers about his behaviour before the murder.”

Hotch looks around for everyone’s assent, then nods once more, dismissing everyone to their tasks. 

You and Spencer make sure to part from each other quickly, hoping to evade suspicion. Flashing him a smile, you brush past him, catching his pinky with yours for a split second before you follow Hotch out the door. 

Spencer is left in the conference room, brushing his thumb over his pinky with an absentminded smile, oblivious to the shit-eating grin that’s found itself on Penelope’s face. 

Spencer and Penelope are the last to get back from their assignment, the rest of you gathered in the PD before the sun begins to set. Derek’s sitting at the display along the wall, currently showing the live feed of the suspect in the interrogation room along with Hotch. 

The case is shaping up to be a relatively short one, so if the interrogation goes well, you might be able to spend the night at Spencer’s.

Rossi’s voice joins the soft haze of conversation, and you finally snap out of your head in time to hear the tail end of his statement. 

“...Hotch is pretty sure that Reid will be able to crack him. He’s putting on airs, the only way we'll get him to confess is if he doesn’t perceive any threats to his ego.”

Emily nods from her seat beside you, chiming in. 

“They’ve been gone for a while, has Garcia called?”

JJ grins softly, unlocking her phone to display a message full of angry emojis and very little text. 

“I’m assuming something held them up, but she says they’ll be here pretty soon.”

The room falls into an amiable silence, all of you alternating between getting a headstart on your reports of the case and watching Hotch glare at the suspect. Emily lets out multiple heavy sighs, the the last two days catching up to all of you.

It’s probably another fifteen minutes until Spencer and Penelope finally burst through the doors, the latter looking very huffy.

Rossi throws his hands up in mock exasperation, questioning the pair.

“About time you showed up! What took so long?”

Penelope groans, rolling her eyes and plunking herself down into a chair. 

“I was ready to be here a while ago, but Boy Genius over here felt the urge to browse multiple novelty stores, for god knows what reason, before he deigned to let us come back!”

Her cheeks are flushed, and Derek and JJ quickly devolve into poking fun at her vexation. Rossi quickly stands, grabbing Spencer by the shoulders in preparation to steer him into the interrogation room. However, Spencer slips out of his grasp with a lithe finger held in the air. 

Apologies on the tip of his tongue, he paces across the room to where you’re sitting, hand delving into his pants pocket and emerging with a small object wrapped in brown paper. He comes to a stop next to your chair, bending over your shoulder to snatch up a folder from the desk (one that you know has nothing to do with the interrogation he’s about to perform). As he does so, he takes the opportunity to slip the object in your palm. 

Straightening up with the folder in hand, he moves back over to Rossi as if nothing happened. 

Turning the small, solid object over in your hand, you watch the two of them leave the room with a soft smile on your face. You have an idea what might be in your possession. 

The first time Spencer stayed at your apartment, he’d taken a particular liking to the collection of souvenir shot glasses that you had on your mantelpiece. Once you explained your goal of buying one in every city where you’ve had a case, he’s taken it upon himself to help you. 

Just as you’d suspected, when you sneak a glance at the object under the table, a tiny shot glass with a cartoon cat stares back up at you. 

A rush of affection runs through you, slipping the glass into your bag as you attempt to hold in a smile. 

Among the many sounds currently coming from the frustrated Penelope, one seems to be less angry, and more triumphant.

Thank goodness, Spencer gets through to the suspect in an hour, extracting a confession that will more than nail the suspect in court. Because of that, the entire team now finds themselves on the jet once more, in various states of sleepiness. 

Rossi is knocked out, head leaned against the wall, mouth agape. Hotch is similarly asleep, with JJ and Emily across from him, sharing wired earphones as they both try and get some shuteye. 

Derek and Penelope are sitting on the couch, leaving you and Spencer to claim the table. 

You’re not complaining, not when Spencer’s foot is pressing against yours from the seat across from you, and you can use the excuse of taunting him about the chessboard to hear his melodic voice float over to you.

“What was it Gideon always told you? I don’t think you’re exactly thinking outside the box right now, Spence.”

His eyes dance as he looks up at you, hand hovering over the board. 

“You think so? I think I’ll be done with you in 5 more moves,”

A glint of cockiness reflects in his irises, forcing you to shift in your seat, cheeks flushing. 

The two of you quickly duck your heads though, both of you sucked into the game. 

Low voices murmur compliments and jabs, and his ankle hooks around yours before long, sending a tremor of fondness through your body. 

You’re so focused on the game and Spencer, that you don’t notice how Derek and Penelope have fallen silent. It’s only when Derek scoffs loudly that either of you acknowledge them. Shooting you a look loaded with meaning, he gestures to the kitchenette on the other side of the cabin, motioning for you to follow him there. 

With a confused glance at Spencer, you rise from your seat and trail after Derek, watching Penelope slide into your vacated seat with a determined look on her face. 

Turning to Derek, you’re met with teasing eyes, his eyebrows waggling as he looks at you, arms crossed over his chest. 

“What’s up, Morgan?”

He chuckles, the sound coming from low in his chest as he stares you down.

“Sweetheart, you’re not exactly being subtle.”

A silence follows, as you try and discern what he means. Seemingly getting sick of it, he sighs, launching into speech again.

“If you haven’t noticed, you’ve been acting mighty close to Spencer recently, don’t you think? Making him coffee, playing chess, nearly falling asleep on him. You know what that sounds like to me? A crush.”

He brandishes his phone, the grainy screen showing a familiar blue page. The list of love languages has been marked up, each item crossed out and scrawled handwriting marring the image. 

Barely hiding your disbelief, you stop peering at the phone to stare up at Derek instead.

“You’re bringing up Teen Vogue again? What is this supposed to mean?”

He laughs at your incredulity, slinging an arm around your shoulder to tug you into his side, his other hand coming up to ruffle your hair. 

“Fine, fine, you don’t have to say anything. But I’ll help, sweetheart. If you need to convince the kid to man up and ask you out, I’ve got some strategies.”

You can’t stifle a giggle, not when you look over your shoulder to see Spencer with a harried look on his face, trying to listen to Penelope’s frenzied chatter (she’s louder than she thinks she is, you can hear her say get some flowers, and just ask her!). 

Whatever else she’s saying, you’re sure the two of you will laugh about it later, when you inevitably end the night in his bed.

[kiruamon]

Demon Lord AU - Of caretaking and rings

More sketches for the demon lord au. And some more lore? Also you are already married to them in the last sketches.

Moon: *doing a girly voice* "Oh no! Love of my life, help me! The evil wizard came to bring me back home where I have to marry him!" Y/N: *makes growling noises and talks with a gruff voice* "Do not fret my little morning blossom! I'll chase this fool away!" Sun: *has a hard time holding himself together* //Don't laugh. Don't laugh, Sun. You have to stay in character.//

Y/N: "They have grown fond of you two so fast. Makes me think, you and Sun must have a talent as caregivers. And I've to say, you have been a great help lately. So... thanks for lending me your services." Moon: "Too much praise, but... thanks. I like this work. It's far better then fighting." Y/N: *chuckles* "True, true. It's is much nicer then that." Y/N: *pausing for a moment before gazing into the distance* "I hope things will stay peaceful during the next weeks. I would like to have more time for the little ones rather then fighting off knights and the like." Moon: "Yes. ... I hope so too."

Y/N: "Please accept these rings. So that a part of me will always be at the side of my beautiful morning and evening star."

Sun: "S-Shunshine. They're breathtaking. But why do they... glow? Did you enchant them?" Moon: *had been reading about demon customs the past months* "This shine... Starlight, tell me that you didn't... " Y/N: *gleefully looking at them* "Ah, I see, you noticed it Moonie. It's fine. Really. I just put a little bit of my soul into it. For someone as powerful as myself it's not thaaaat big of a deal." *tail swishes proudly behind them* Sun: "H-huh? Moon? What are you two talking about? W-what does it mean there is a part of your soul in it, Sunshine?" Moon: *stuck between being worried and deeply touched* "Demons can put pieces of their souls into other objects. It increases their power, but... but if these rings... if they would be destroyed then Starlight... " *he pauses, almost inable to say the rest* Moon: "It will weaken them a lot and there would be no way to recover the power that had been lost. It's so risky that it's rarely ever done. In older days demon spouses that were forced into marriages by their families exchanged them as wedding gifts with each other to have some form of reassurance to not be betrayed so easily by the other... " Sun: "T-then we can't accept them! You have to take them back." Y/N: *pretends to pout and turns their head away, but their tail twitches in mischief* "If you do not want them, you can just toss the rings away. But I will not take them back. Aside from that, it's not like I can redo the spell to get these parts of my soul back anyway. Soooo, I would be much happier to know that they are in the capable and loving hands of my spouses." *looks again at Sun and Moon in a much softer and tender way* Y/N: "Please, do not think I made this decision on a whim. Even if I might admit the voice of my heart spoke very loudly in this case. But... I have faith in you two. And like I said I did wanted a part of me to be with you wherever you two might be. So please, do not make me take them back, my darling lights." Sun: *is struggling for words* "Y... you shouldn't have- " Sun: "It's too risky. And... and it's not- " Sun: "... You're not playing fair, Sunshine. ... Ngh, to get us with such trickery... " *sniffles while holding his hand with the ring closer to his chest* "... I'll keep it safe for the rest of my life... just like I vowed to protect you so many moons ago." Moon: *wipes away a stray tear from his eye, but laughs softly* "It seems we don't have much of a choice Starlight as to accept your gift. Be sure we'll take good care of it and feel honored of your grant trust in us." Y/N: *smiles fondly while walking closer to them* "Oh my sweet twin stars. Of course you do. You always are given a choice. But I do apologize for worrying you and... being a bit unfair. It was not my intention to bring you sorrow or to make this gift seem like a burden. But we all have just one life. And I would have regretted it much more to not have shown you my deepest trust and love." Sun: "F-foolish demon." Moon: "Our mischivious, little star." *both step forward to take you in their arms and so you too lay softly one arm around each of them, your face comfortly nestled against them as you hear them whisper words of love into your ears*

A short while after they too gifted you with some rings. One embedded with a blue sapphire the other one with a yellow topaz. Sun and Moon even knew about the custom of your species to attach the rings to your tail which you found delightful and endearing when they asked if they were allowed to slip the rings onto it. Unlike you they weren't able to put a part of their soul into them. But this isn't important to you. You still can feel the love and affection gleaming in them whenever you look at these precious gifts.

[paucubarsisimp]

cravings

pairing: jan virgili x reader

summary: in which jan eats your cravings

warnings: none

you were absolutely starving after a long day, your craving for a chocolate croissant so intense that you could practically taste it. you finally managed to get your hands on one, and you were looking forward to sinking into the couch, savoring every bite. life was good.

that is, until jan walked into the kitchen.

"what's this?" he asked, grinning as he spotted the croissant in your hands.

you shot him a look, already feeling protective over your precious treat. "it's mine," you said, a little more possessively than you'd meant to.

jan raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "i don't know, bebe. looks pretty good. mind if i have a bite?"

you frowned, already sensing what was coming. "no, jan. not this time," you said, holding it closer to your chest. "i've been craving this all day. please, just let me have this."

but in one swift motion, jan took the croissant from your hands, biting into it with a cheeky grin.

your eyes widened in disbelief. "jan! no!" you shouted, trying to grab it back, but it was too late. he was already chewing, completely oblivious to your growing frustration.

he looked at you, clearly enjoying your reaction. "mmm, that’s really good. you weren’t kidding, huh?"

you felt your face flush with annoyance. "you just ate it. all of it. that was supposed to be mine!" your voice was getting louder, the irritation finally breaking through.

jan blinked, suddenly realizing the extent of his mistake. "hey, i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to upset you. i just—"

"it doesn’t matter!" you interrupted, feeling the anger bubble up. "i’ve been thinking about that croissant all day, and you just… took it!" you crossed your arms, pouting with frustration.

jan immediately took a step toward you, his expression softening. "cariño, i swear i didn’t mean to make you mad. i was just being a little silly. i’ll make it up to you, okay?" he gently reached for your arms, trying to coax you into calming down.

you turned your face away, still upset. "i’m really mad, jan," you mumbled, not meeting his eyes. "you’re so lucky you’re cute."

he smiled sheepishly, taking a small step back. "okay, okay. i get it. i was totally wrong for that." he paused for a moment, before his face lit up with an idea. "how about this? i’ll bring you two chocolate croissants tomorrow, and we can just cuddle and relax. no stealing. i promise."

you didn’t say anything at first, just giving him a pouty glare. your arms were still crossed, but despite the annoyance, you were already softening.

jan could see the way your frown was slowly turning into a small, reluctant smile. he took a step closer, wrapping you up in his arms before you could protest. "i’m really sorry, okay? i didn’t mean to mess with your craving. you know how much i love you, even when you're mad at me."

you sighed dramatically, pretending to still be upset. "you’re lucky you’re cute. and you owe me cuddles now, for making me mad."

jan chuckled, pulling you closer and settling into the couch with you. "i can do that," he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. "lots and lots of cuddles. and, i swear, no more stealing your food."

you let yourself relax in his arms, the anger completely melting away. "good. because next time, i’ll throw my food at you."

"noted," jan said, holding you even tighter. "but for now, let’s just cuddle. i’ll make sure you get your chocolate croissant… and a whole lot of love."

you let out a small sigh of contentment, finally at peace again in his embrace. “you better,” you mumbled, closing your eyes.

taglist: @barcapix, @universefcb, @nngkay, @joaosnovia, @ilovebarcaaaa, @levidazai, @hollyf1, lmk if you want to be added!

[nudesfornp]

I, among many others, have been feeling a little negative about Neopets/TNT lately due to various reasons. It's easy to get into a mindspace where "everything is bad" when that's actually not the case. I'm going to list a few things that have changed about Neopets that I enjoy, just as a reminder that there is lots of good happening on the site and not just bad.

Feel free to reblog and add to my noncomprehensive list!

UCs are available to all and expanded

Constant strides being made in terms of diversity and inclusion (ethnically diverse hair, accessibility items for pets, pride items, etc)

Really fun plot that will hopefully return this year

New Neopet species that everyone loves!!

Daily Quest Log - Really fun, great prizes

Economy being fixed - Paint brushes are actually attainable

Mobile tie-in games where you can earn Neopoints, Avatars, and other items for your account

Plushies and merch have been brought back, another thing we have been asking for for years!

Parterning with independent artists to allow them to make even more Neopets merch

Better Premium perks - People have been saying for years that premium isn't really worth it, but you definitely can't say that now!

More welcoming to new players - I've had at least 5 IRL friends join Neopets this past year or so and enjoy it!

That's only a drop in the bucket! Please feel free to add exciting new things from the past year or two

[fallloverfic]

Thoughts on To Be Hero X Episode 6: Two E-Souls

What an episode XD

I'm a bit worried about shipping anyone because my characters of interest seem to keep dying alkdjal Yes, Nice died (presumably) in Episode 1, but Wreck also maybe died later lakdjla Ah well, it's never stopped me before!!

They really pushed Shang Chao and Yang Cheng together this episode. Yes, there was lots of love triangle stuff, but surprisingly interesting moments of making Shang Chao matter a lot more to Yang Chang. I know the idea is to make Shang Chao's death more relevant for Yang Cheng, but still.

Just... this whole sequence with Rock setting them up, and it being framed as an awkward date. Shang Chao having interest in Yang Cheng... I love it. I love all of it. Even if he could have alternate reasons for it like money (maybe), building up his own hero business, platonic friendship, or even just because Xia Qing likes Yang Cheng, this is still so adorable.

I still love E-Soul's secretary(?) and his pink outfit. Looking fly, sir.

I think the episode handles the identity fraud thing in odd way, but eh. I think another point should be made how 1) there are many actors pretending to be E-Soul, and even contests for who can be the best, which E-Soul seems to support, so by certain standards, this is fine and allowed, and 2) it would be kind of complicated to make people stop believing in Yang Cheng, which is kind of what Shang Chao is saying. Identity fraud is an individual choice, not a mass movement of people convinced you're someone else.

I didn't think about it last episode, but this arc is giving me Death of Superman vibes.

Yes, Yang Cheng using his new powers to... electrocute children. I imagine it's just static shock (another great DC Comics character), but... well... It's good to remember that electric shocks can kill and tasers can be very dangerous, even if they're meant to just knock people out, which even on its own is dangerous for a variety of reasons. Even static can be bad. If nothing else, it can burn and paralyze.

There's something really tragic about E-Soul going from this person who fought actual villains (maybe) to... selling action figures of himself. A lot of celebrities do it, obviously, it's just framed in a really kind of sad way? Like ah yes, we're holding a press conference to announce the limited edition statues of myself.

I'm just saying, Yang Cheng doesn't wear the gloves all the time. He could have had it off while Shang Chao worked on it. He didn't. This was a choice. I notice that right hand Shang Chao. I NOTICE IT!!!!

It's also really lovely how hard Shang Chao and Xia Qing are supporting Yang Cheng. Shang Chao is putting a lot of effort into it, not just from a money and convincing his father angle, but also clearly through his technical expertise.

They're just so cute. "It comes from each person that supports, trusts, and loves you." INDEED. THAT LAST ONE THOUGH. Followed almost immediately by putting his hand on Yang Cheng's shoulder.

He believes so hard in Mr. Hero.

I love when Shang Chao is driving the car towards the ongoing crime, and Shang Chao is also talking animatedly into a walkie talkie and Xia Qing is tightly holding onto her seatbelt, looking reasonably concerned about the distracted driver. She deserves better. Poor woman.

I have a weakness for speedsters: I've been a Cyborg 009 fangirl for years. Yang Cheng and E-Soul are not 1:1 with Joe, but there's just a little in the scenes where Yang Cheng races off. His determination and conflict feel similar, too and I actually think they're similar in age.

I also think we hear Yang Cheng's theme/E-Soul's theme(?) in this scene. It sounds nice! If anyone has a link to it, I'll add it to the post.

The whole Yang Cheng fight scene was really cool. Babe doing great!!

I know a lot of us suspected that Shang Chao was the true villain behind everything, and who knows, maybe he really is all along or something, but I like to think he's innocent, he just wants to support Yang Cheng. And that support is really adorable. Taking photos, planning events... It's just really cute. I do, however, wonder why he at no point hires a lawyer. I'm glad he thought up the petition, and it's great his father (maybe Mr. Shand?) managed to get Enlighter, but a lawyer would also have been nice, too :D I mean unless pink dude was a lawyer, E-Soul didn't seem to have one at the mediation either, even with all his money and connections, so I don't know...

It was nice to see Enlighter again. And he's kind of random, but fun! Also, although he's not a lawyer, he does the semi-accurate thing by casting doubt onto the evidence: they can't prove it was Yang Cheng, and it's very unlikely it was him. They can't prove Yang Cheng is guilty. That's likely how a case would have been handled. Though it wouldn't have worked out in this specific fashion. The goal of the defense isn't to find who committed the crime, it's to show how weak the evidence/the case against the defendant is.

They're just so cute, they end me. Every time Yang Cheng feels doubt, Shang Chao is there being like hey :3 Yes, I know Shang Chao asked Xia Qing out. I'm not into the ship, but I support anyone going for an OT3 thing here. Still, I'm rooting for my guys.

And then, alas, the bullet they were previewing... hits Shang Chao. This show sure does have it out for characters associated with the color yellow (Nice, Wreck, Moon, Shang Chao). I think it's interesting he was playing with the helmet when it happened, maybe to tease the theories about him becoming E-Soul or something. And obviously it's to accidentally make the gunman think he's Yang Cheng.

Sad days, sad days. But hey, maybe he's fine (that's not really what a gunshot to the head looks like, so maybe it was a graze, plus, it hit him through the helmet, which might have been armored to some degree, even if it didn't fully stop the bullet)! We'll see next episode, I suppose. (Though the preview for Episode 7 seems to show Yang Cheng and Xia Qing attending a funeral, even though we had a fake-out funeral before with Moon). And who hired the assassin? Pink dude? E-Soul? The fear villain? Someone else? Was it just a rabid fan of the original E-Soul or Yang Cheng? We'll have to see. It definitely seems to make sense why that portal E-Soul (presumably Yang Cheng) was attacking older E-Soul in the character trailer.

Again, I really like how they're using 3D animation in this series and swapping between art styles. It's a lot of fun. But every time they do the 2D, it makes me really wish that was the primary way they were doing the series... It's so much nicer looking...

Overall, it was a great episode. Looking forward to Episode 7! (And if you need some Shang Chao/Yang Cheng comfort, here you go)

More thoughts:

Episode 1, Episode 2, Episode 3, Episode 4, Episode 5, Episode 6 (You are here)

[vibatu]

"Just a sip" , a comic idea that I have filed away under the "I no longer know when or if I'll ever finish it" category (Doesn't feel right to say "discarded" lmao) (who knows, maybe one day I pick it back up!).

I really love the thumbnails I managed to sketch out (especially that last panel at the third page!!!!!!! I want and need to make more of that), its been I think almost a year since I've made them though, and it just doesn't feel right just let them keep collecting dust after so long especially when I don't even know if the inspiration to complete it strikes again, so, here it is! Read more for further rambling into the details~

This is another "what if" comic where wanted to explore mainly:

1. Ocudeus and The Seaspring. And what could happen within someone's mind once they drink (Lukas is our text subject! Yay!)

2. "Interesting" paneling, or at least visually engaging compositions in pages (I love making comics!) There's so many things I want to practice and try out to make bring the movies in my head come to life in this format.

On to the "plot".

We start out with Lukas drinking from The Spring. Hypothetical-Timeline wise this would be happening at the "ending" of the TS story in which not a single cure is found for MCs curse. Last resort type of situation. This happens on pages 1, 2, and page "3". In this post the 3 image would actually be page 4, I just never sketches the 3rd (I just drew what was clearest in my head first). Imagine 3rd page having a shot of Ais staring at the process from a safe distance with a cig while Lukas is writhing on the floor losing his marbles after drinking (lol).

Now the fun part. Ocudeus. I imagined the process of joining the groupmind not happening instantly. I thought about Ocudeus himself manifesting in their new host's mind and sometimes striking conversation (which happens in isolation with just the two of them) (brain is not part of the primordial soup. Yet)

We don't know what Ocudeus looks like either! So I went crazy. At first I was just gonna make them take Ais' shape. But that felt, not quite right for an eldritch being. So instead, Ocudeus takes the form of whoever is drinking :) thus manifesting themselves as Lukas inside Lukas' mind.

There's a huge jump in events from Image 3 and 4 of the post. After Img 3 there's a lot of talking going on. Asking if the curse can really be cured. Ocudeus being a sassy smug menace cryptic about it and reminding Lukas that there is no going back anyways and that is no longer something Lukas should be concerned about. He will no longer be himself, so why worry.

After this its just a "Descent into true madness", see Img 4 for reference, where the "world" just really starts to warp around and eventually ends with Lukas getting "consumed" by the darkness of the giant octopus, his lasts thoughts as "Lukas" being those of relief of finally getting rid of the curse, and grief over leaving his life behind. Fun stuff.

Comic was supposed to end with Lukas jolting awake (His head was resting on Ais lap now).

After sitting up abruptly and wiping his tears away, with hands that now look properly human. Lukas turns to Ais and asks, with a gaze now as red as the seaspring near them.

"Why am I crying?"

-

THATS A LONG ONE If you read this far, well, thanks! ;w; I hope you enjoyed the read, even if there is no full comic to pair. The Seaspring is so interesting to me.

Some other random things: I got inspired by the Honkai Star Rail promo video where Acheron and Black Swan dance together. The visuals and visualization of Black Swan's "being" being consumed by the endless void was SO good and when I realized this concept could work for the seaspring in a similar way I needed to get the idea out of my system.

Have an extra! Alternative version of my fav panel. Only difference is the eyes, this is the first version. Which I drew before Redspring revealed what Ais' eyes looked like when his cephalopod friend is driving the car.

Vibi out~ (⁠・⁠∀⁠・⁠)

[therivercrow]

A Word With Friends - Perspicacious

OK, so this one's trying to do a lot. It's my response to this week's Word With Friends (perspicacious - tagged by @seaglassmelody and @blackwall-my-tiny-husband) and Thursday Bangers ("I've loved you three summers but I want them all" - from @teamtakagi).

It's also for @robinsea who wanted some loving for Alana and their amazing Rook, Ivy.

This is vaguely Rook's Roost AU in that it fits the main timeline, but it doesn't reference it heavily.

Enjoy a tender moment in the Necropolis Gardens:

"Thought I'd find you here".

Alana crouched down beside the timeworn headstone where Ivy Ingellvar of the Mourn Watch was half-kneeling, eyes closed, before a single lit candle that cast a tiny golden glow amid the indigo gloom of the Necropolis gardens. Ivy glanced up at Alana's movement, a sudden intrusion into their silent meditation, but not an unwelcome one.

"I needed to get away. I come here to think". Ivy's words were brusque but their eyes softened as they took in the expression of care on Alana's face. Their bright green irises shone like funeral lanterns in the deep black of their sclera.

Most people avoided Ivy's gaze, finding their glowing, demonic eyes unsettling, but Alana met them tenderly.

"Are you okay?"

Ivy sighed, shaking their head. "I saw Minrathous, what the Venatori did to Dock Town. I should have been there". Their voice took on a hardened edge. "I should have done something".

Alana rested one hand on Ivy's shoulder. "You couldn't be in two places at once, none of us could. Other Watchers were there, they tried their best. If you'd gone, you might have been..." Alana let the words fall away.

"I'm used to death", Ivy said. "I've lived with it my whole life, and I'm not scared. But what I saw in Dock Town, so many bodies - people - left in the street without a proper burial. It goes against everything the Watch stands for".

Alana turned away, thinking about their next words. The gardens were a peaceful haven, especially after the chaos of the dragon fight in Treviso, and the horror of what happened and was still happening in Minrathous.

Soft green and blue wisp-lights illuminated patches of the constant twilight, revealing islands of light in the sea of gloom, highlighting mausoleums and memorial statues, silent homes for the dead. The scent of flowers and candlewax wafted on the night air.

"Thank you", Alana finally said. "For choosing Treviso".

Ivy made their choice in a moment, they had no time to think about the situation with their usual cool logic. The Watchers scattered, some going to each of the two cities under attack, to help the Crows and Shadow Dragons there.

"I didn't choose Treviso", Ivy replied quietly. "I chose...you".

Alana lowered their head slightly, their voice cracking. "I know".

Alana wasn't good at these moments, where genuine emotion threatened to break through their carefully constructed mask. Ivy could see their discomfort, and understood it. In this they were the same; only where Alana deflected with irreverence, Ivy pretended stoicism. Underneath, both elves were small, scared, and fragile.

Alana shook out their hands as if to banish the rising feelings, and glanced at the stone Ivy had chosen to kneel at. The name was worn away by centuries but was still partially legible.

"Ingellvar", Alana read aloud.

"This was where I was found".

"That's where you got your name?" Alana asked. "This stone is...ancient. Look at it, it's overgrown with...oooooh, Ivy Ingellvar. I get it!"

The stone was indeed grown over with ivy, vines trailing like serpents over the carvings that once adorned the granite slab.

"Well, aren't you the perspicacious one?" Ivy chuckled. "Never been sure about the name, honestly".

"It suits you". Alana reached out one hand to Ivy's hair, a dark green knot of braids that sat atop their otherwise shaved head. "It matches your hair. And...I think it's beautiful".

Ivy gave a small snort of derision. "Beautiful?"

Alana met their eyes again. "Yes. You are".

"I thought we said we wouldn't do this". Ivy stood up quickly. "Not while..." they gestured widely, at everything.

"We kissed, Ivy". Alana said. "That day in Arlathan forest. You and me, in a sunbeam under the trees. And I haven't stopped thinking about it. I know what we said but -"

They stood level with Ivy, and held their hands.

"Everything with Minrathous, with Treviso, with those damn dragons". Alana's words caught in their throat. "It reminded me that we don't have forever. We're fighting gods. Sure, we have a small army to help us, but any day, any one of us could -"

"Die". Ivy finished Alana's sentence, saying the word they'd been avoiding.

"Well, yes". Alana's voice softened. "So, let's work with the time we have. I want to see where this can go. I want more summers in Arlathan with you. I want them all - if you do".

Ivy rested their head on Alana's shoulder, moving into a tender hug. The two elves stood embracing, in the quiet of the gardens and the cool of the night. "I do".

[wedriftlikelonelyplanets]

What is you fav fics with strict dom sub dynamic? If you don’t mind me asking. Landoscar

So I'll start this by saying that like....there's not a lot of formal D/s Landoscar fics in existence that I've come across, and I've been like...living in the realm of F1RPF on AO3 for like the last two years.

I'm planning on writing a formal D/s Landoscar fic at some point but that is....not the HIGHEST on the list, because I have a lot of things on the go. IN THE MEANTIME...here are some recs, some of my faves, and if this is something you're looking for, maybe a smidge of self-promo.

off to the races series by foggystars (the vibes are INSANE in the most positive way, they're SOOOOOO hot and they make me feral batshit crazy like)

in the silence, hear your heart beat next to mine series by anonymous (probably the most formal dynamic in all of my recs, BDSM AU, really gorgeous, I love the relationship between Lando and Oscar in these fics)

lead me to myself by astronautafficionado (really gorgeous look at non-sexual bdsm, and kinda super hot all around)

how to be both a brat and a dom by lando norris series by wanderingblindly (brat dom lando.....CHRONICALLY frothing at the mouth about this, i have been YELLING at liquid in the dms for two days, esp with the new work she added the other day)

Nouveau Hot by wanderingblindly (ALSOOOOO incredibly hot....love it so dearly, soft dom Oscar)

cause we talk that talk (yeah we talk all night) by anonymous (trans oscar, orgasm control, hot)

violations series by bumblewyn (undernegotiated and not really "traditional" but INCREDIBLY hot, ace oscar piastri, lots of feelings and emotions)

These are like...probably my current faves tbh. I really do love a lot of fics with under-negotiated dynamics, and non-formal that eventually slips into something more formal in terms of dynamics too, which is why i feel like this list is like....shorter than I want it to be.

There are SO many people's fics that I love though, so if you ever want any other faves of mine, please feel free to hit me up.

If you're looking for recs and you HAVEN'T read my fics, the "give it to him however he wants" series definitely is like.....not formal dynamic but definitely is D/s, however undernegotiated it is. And honestly....everything I write that's Landoscar tends to lean in the direction of D/s anyways so y'know....that's always there too.

[mortalscience]

criminal minds 18x1 expanded thoughts

I already yapped about the Garvez stuff over here!

Tyler was so fucking cute oh my god. I love him. I've been looking forward to Luke and Tyler getting along and we're getting it already! The two of them being army buddies with their dog tags and Luke being like YOU'RE COMING TOO and Tyler's little answering happy smile and Luke and Tyler telling each other nice work after they rescued the victims and Luke grilling Tyler, the cute little trainee he is. It was GREAT. Luke is way too much of a puppy dog to hold on to his own grudge and since Penelope and Tyler patched things up and moved on, Luke can move on too and now he's got a little friend. I bet they have play dates lmao.

Also it fucking KILLED ME when they asked Tyler what requests he put in for field assignments and he said DC "to be close to you guys, of course" YOU GUYS. HE FOUND HIS FAMILY. He's like "these people saved me, I'm loyal to them now." Actual golden retriever Tyler Green. Oh and the shot of him looking so happily at his lil badge oh my GODDDDD.

Voit's TBI - I mentioned this elsewhere on Tumblr already but they brought up the traumatic brain injuries of Voits, which is a hot topic regarding football players who get some severe TBI through their careers, and many of them become aggressive and violent. So I wonder if that will be the focus of Ochoa's research, and also some of the basis of what the angle might be regarding Voit having some humanity in him.

Scattershot stuff: Penelope's eye makeup and popcorn necklace were so cute and I couldn't stop admiring them. I think Voit arranged his own attack as a method of escape (hence why he had a knife stashed and killed the other guys) but accidentally got more injured than intended. Rebecca! I'm glad she's back. I enjoyed Luke providing the little backup to Tara when she was giving the profile to the company representatives ("murders are more important than 401ks"). Emily and Rossi on their little side quest regarding Voit is I guess how the show has decided to split up the ongoing arc vs the unsub of the week. It kind of made their story a little more ho-hum but I'm sure it will all come together soon. LMAO at the comment about Voit being in a coma but still all up in Rossi's business. So fucking true. And last but not least, JJ/Cheetos OTP.

Penelope, my Penelope. I've seen a loooot of takes crossing my dash the past day and there's obviously a lot of controversy about her actions and statements. Everyone's entitled to their opinions, and so here's mine, coming at you:

It's my freakish empathy. It's giving you the heebies.

I feel like her wish to see some spark of humanity in Voit completely tracks with her character throughout the show. "She wouldn't do that." And it's something she's done multiple times before, lol.

Penelope wrote letters to Greg Baylor, who tried to kill Spencer. Spencer, her best friend! Penelope campaigned the governor to try to get Baylor off death row. She went to see him before he was executed despite Derek absolutely laying into her over it. She honored Baylor's wish not to die alone, and she witnessed his execution, was with him in his final moments. Again, this is a guy who murdered multiple people and tried to kill Spencer and surely would have killed her too if needed. Penelope did this.

Penelope spent years ignoring her parents' killer, Jesse Wilson. In that episode with his parole hearing, the characters remark about how Penelope had never gone to any of the parole hearings before. Which is strange, right? You'd think she'd want to be there to support her brothers even if she didn't speak. But I always thought it was because she knew herself, she knew her own tendencies, and she knew if she met him she would not be able to stop herself from having an empathetic response, and she didn't want that to happen because of course she was justifiably angry about their deaths. But.. that's exactly what happened, when she finally met him and talked with him. She stood up in that hearing and advocated for Wilson's release, despite knowing how much it would piss off Carlos (and presumably the other brothers). No matter any other consequence, no matter what anyone else thought, Penelope's empathy won out.

Now whether or not you think this is a GOOD character trait is a different issue but IMHO Penelope's reaction to Voit is completely in keeping with previous displays of this same level of "freakish empathy." The fact she even calls it that herself means she's completely aware it's a lil crazy, but. It's who she is.

And to me, I think her desperate need to see something "salvageable" in Voit actually has little to do with Voit himself, and more to do with Penelope's unwillingness to live in a world where pure, unadulterated, irredeemable evil exists. She has enough trouble coping with the trauma of everything she sees and has seen, but I think the concept of Actual Monsters is maybe just too scary for her. that's a world that's just a little too dark for her. I think she thinks if she can convince herself that there's some small spark of humanity in Voit, that there's hope for others, that serial killers are made, not born, and that maybe one day there's a future where no more serial killers exist.

SO there's my thoughts on it. I think it makes sense for her character and I also like it because I like that this is the particular way that Penelope is a little fucked up.

ANYWAY THAT'S JUST HOW I FEEL ABOUT IT.

IN SUMMARY: I LOVED IT, IT WAS GORGEOUS AND WONDERFUL AND PERFECT, EVERYTHING IS RAINBOWS AND NOTHING HURTS.

[kuruna]

I want to design more outfits for AZ especially now that there's a better sense of his personal style :~) of course his suit is all patchworked so he can have something that actually fits his long long limbs, but I think it's very cute that he only picked colours he's already established to like wearing... orange, green, black, and brown.

You can see it in the way Hotel Z looks too... The vintage photo frames, the old mismatched furniture, the shabby curtains... even the two rugs layered on top of one another are a nice little personal touch ! Also if you zoom in over by the bookshelf you'll see whoever was there last just left their books laying on the floor 😭 it adds a cute touch imo, that this is a space that's well used and lived in.

And the usage of patterns too :~) the eternal flower themed patterning (damask style maybe?) in the walls, the patchwork look of the curtains, the parquet flooring, the floral pattern on one of the chairs, and of course AZ's own pinstripe suit ... it all feels very cluttered, but not in an overwhelming way at all. I think it's very cute ^.^

Also his many flowers!! I've been posting about it but he seems to have: white + yellow roses, golden yarrow, pink mums, petunias (not seen here) and the humble dracaena. New beginnings, platonic love, protection, long life + nobility, "you soothe me against anger," and inner power. All symbolism that suits him very well 🫶🏾

Obviously the guy who is really famous for loving a Floette to the point of being willing to (literally) sacrifice the world for her is going to love flowers, but there wasn't any real proof of that in XY, so I'm really happy to see it in Z-A ... Also on another note it does kind of add a little flavour to AZ being that he's a king from the bronze age, an era where men were expected to be these powerful warriors and kings as symbols of masculine strength, but AZ is pretty androgynous in his appearance and from the looks of it his mannerisms too. (There's a reason why I think interpreting him as transfeminine adds a lot to his character even outside of it being self indulgent 🩷🩵🤍)

Anyways. I got extremely off topic 🙏🏾 my point is that it's really charming that his personal style is cluttered and mismatched, but still classy in a way. A former king who values elegance but doesn't want to lose his individuality. And perhaps he's a bit old fashioned in how he goes about things too, whether it be his fashion style or how he runs the hotel itself (I can imagine him preferring to just write down bookings rather than using any kind of automated system, even if it's more tedious ... I think he's someone who really values hard work, though I also imagine he's more in tune with his own limits these days).

More images of the hotel interior :~) the flowers in the window sill (first pic) are petunias while the flowers on the desk (bottom pic) are white and yellow roses. Mostly saying this for my own reference 😱

Also I noticed for the first time yesterday that the wall lamps have a little heart-shaped Floette tail dangling accessory to them, isn't that so cute

[2isted-chocol8-art]

It's been some pretty long weeks

-> More Outer Wilds Art!

[wilting-fl0wer]

The only correct form of caltam, as far as i am concerned