#it feels pointless to even try to be optimistic

[asxgard]

Semper Fi | [5/8]

Dr. Jack Abbot x f!doctor!reader

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Summary: Honesty. Feelings. A mass casualty that makes you question your outlook. And Jack. Always Jack.

[ Series Masterlist ]

Note: Thank you all for the likes, comments and reblogs!! Y’all are so nice🥹💜

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: age gap, ANGST, foul language, past sexual harassment, is this love? baby don’t hurt me, hospital setting, medical inaccuracies, school (campus) shooting/injury & death, moral “argument”, canon-typical gore, gun violence, I get mildly preachy about guns, hurt/comfort

not beta read

“You once asked me why I left New York…”

If you didn’t have his attention before, you certainly had it now. He sat relaxed on the couch, one leg propped up on the coffee table, his prosthetic sitting beside him. The worn out medical journal moved to his lap, his eyes moving to you.

You moved further into the living room and sat down on the other end of the couch, “It started not long after I completed my fellowship. New attending, well liked and good at his job. Despite completing my residency there, it felt like an upward battle. He was harassing me. It started small, innocuous, but he got bolder. Started grabbing me in the halls, or trying to corner me in the parking garage, or said lewd things in the staff lounge.” You cleared your throat and looked down at your hands. “I reported him, tried switching shifts, but he was always there. HR said I didn’t have evidence against him, and the board wouldn’t terminate him without cause. I was able to deal with it for a few months, but it got worse.”

You noticed one of Jack’s hands had curled into a white knuckled fist.

“Galloway got the nursing union involved, as some nurses had made some similar complaints. Well, the board paid attention to that, but he said we were harassing him. I found out later that he was the son of one of the donors, so it was all pointless. They told me I could quit or be fired, and Galloway had to retire. It was a boys club, I can’t say I’m surprised.” You shrugged, looking away from him. “So I took the first job out of there.”

The silence that settled felt deafening. It crawled up your spine and rattled your bones. You had never told anyone about Dr. Tate — not your friends, or your family. You just wanted to forget all about it, bury it deep in the past and move on. Pittsburgh had been a fresh start in more ways than one.

Jack moved toward you, grabbing your hand in his and squeezing.

“That never should have happened to you.” He said quietly, “I’m sorry.”

You wiped away your tears, “I don’t know why—I guess I just wanted to tell you. You know, be honest. Open.”

He looked at you strangely, but not unkindly. It was an expression you could not read, not even after slowly peeling back his layers in the months that you had been intimate with each other. It felt oddly raw, that even with your sunny exterior, your insides felt shadowed.

“Thank you for telling me.” He reached out to pull you closer, and you obliged him. “Anything like that happens here and you come to me, yeah? I’ll take care of it.”

You had a vague notion of what he meant by taking care of it, but it settled you as you relaxed into his chest. You grabbed hold of the dog tags around his neck, running a finger over the engraving, finding it weirdly grounding.

A tiny weight lifted off your shoulders, finally speaking to what had happened with someone you cared about. It felt like the wound was finally ready to be stitched closed.

—

A quiet contentment moved in in the weeks that followed, and you felt lighter than you had in years. To not be judged so harshly on your optimistic outlook, even by someone grisled by their experiences — to not be seen as naive, or childish, felt like someone had finally seen you.

You found it funny that the person who saw you as you were was a thunderstorm made into a man — grey skies, flashes of light against rolling clouds of intensity, and a crack of something honest.

The ease of it all had made it easier to talk about what you two were, or wanted to be, officially.

“Would you want to be my girlfriend?” Jack asked over breakfast one morning.

You lit up like the sun, despite him being awkward about it. “I want to be yours, whatever that looks like.”

He blinked before a grin broke out across his face, looking back to his food.

The label felt elementary, as you felt you had grown into more, but it still filled you with excitement. To no longer dance around the inevitable, and instead relish in it.

“Do we have to tell HR now?”

“Fuck no.” He scoffed, “Less they know the better. As long as neither of our judgements get compromised, I see no reason to talk to them about it. But I might tell Robby,” He shrugged, sipping his coffee.

“Maybe I should put money on the bet, or get someone in on it to do it for me. Put a few grand down, split the profits.” You said with a smirk. “Though I feel like it was Robby who started it.”

“He’s never been subtle.” He chuckled, “And that feels like robbery.”

“Serves them right for betting on it.” You laughed.

—

The incident occured at the very start of your shift, a mass alert went out about a shooter at the local community college, interrupting a baseball game. Few casualties, but a lot of injured were being directed to PTMC. Your wide-eyed gaze caught Jack over the charge desk and you encouraged yourself to breathe.

Beds were emptied, non-critical patients diverted upstairs, while family medicine doctors came down to assist with the waiting room. It was a flurry of movement as the Pitt prepared for the worst. Jack moved with calculated efficiency, all military training and honed by years of experience.

“I want you to be primary in triage.” He said, handing you a belt with an array of slap bands. “You remember our last Mass Casualty meeting?”

You nodded sharply, having joined the night shift right before said meeting. You recounted each step in protocol in your head, before looking back at Jack, a harrowed looking overtaking your face.

“Is this going to be really bad?”

His eyes flickered between yours, “Early estimates have between roughly a dozen and two. It’s not going to be good.”

You frowned, a nausea rolling through your stomach. You took a deep breath to steady the churning, barely able to articulate how you were beginning to feel. This felt different to the everyday horrors you had seen, it felt more fragile and a lot more charged, and the thoughts swirling around in your head made you angry. That this would just be another day in America — but now it was in your city, your hospital.

Heat flooded your chest, cheeks flushing.

“Deep breath,” Jack said, reading your expression clearly. “I got you.”

You pushed all the other thoughts away, shoving them into boxes to unpack later, before nodding carefully at Jack, “Alright, let’s do this.”

“That’s my girl.”

It warmed something in your heart, dripping into your stomach — a fondness that had begun to pool into much more. Jack was incredibly grounding, moving to get you situated and giving your head a squeeze before he departed for his zone.

When the first ambulance arrived, you kicked yourself into high gear. Adrenaline pumped through your system, driven to assess as quickly as you could while still maintaining a level of care you were proud of. You remembered Jack’s words from months ago, about time costing lives. It was easy to not linger in triage, but it put your skills and efficiency to the test.

By the time the last ambulance was rolling in, your gown was covered in blood. You had a nurse help you change it before the ambulance door was opening, a S.W.A.T. officer exiting.

On the gurney, laid an early-to-mid twenties male with a GSW to the shoulder and abdomen. You started assessing before they were fully out of the ambulance, moving him into the emergency room, barking out orders.

You called for Shen to ensure no more were incoming, while you focused on the patient, running beside the gurney as you headed into Trauma-1. Jack was already working someone up beside you, but he immediately took notice to the S.W.A.T. following behind you.

“That’s him,” one S.W.A.T. man whispered to the officer beside him, just out of your peripheral.

You paused, looking down at the patient, realization dawning on you. Rosa, a night shift nurse, stalled beside you, hands going still for just a moment. Your breath got caught somewhere in your throat and despite the crashing vitals, you didn’t move.

“Two units, O neg. Prep intubation.” Jack’s voice cut through your haze.

You snapped back to it, catching Jack’s slight eyebrow raise in your direction. Your wince was subtle, but enough of an answer for him. Your hands shook as you prepped the intubation tray, moving to stand over the patient.

Jack met your gaze, and he situated himself beside you, and his hand brushing against your back was enough to steady you. You felt drawn to him like gravity, like the earth to the sun. His presence was solid, allowing you enough time to compartmentalize and refocus. You took a deep breath, leaning down to open the airway and intubate.

—

After noticing you had disappeared after they were back out of the trenches, he wandered up to the roof. Everyone had a breaking point, and unfortunately you had found yours, and worry ebbed through Jack’s guts.

When he reached the roof, he found you standing where he usually stood when a shift was too much. He watched as you leaned back against the safety railing, looking over the city, arms crossed.

“I get it.” was all you said, not turning to look at him.

He approached slowly, moving to stand just behind you, while still giving you space. He glanced at all the buildings with a heavy sigh, looking at you in the corner of his vision.

“You were excellent down there.” He told you.

“It never feels like enough.”

Jack let out a long sigh and rested his arms on the railing, leaning on it. He turned his head toward you slightly, taking in the lost look in your eyes, lips pulled into a frown.

“We do what we can. That’s all we can do.”

“You sound like me.” You said, though there seemed to be a hollowness to your voice, devoid of its normal radiance.

“Just telling you the truth.”

“I had to—we had to save him.” You said in a rushed whisper, your face scrunching up, tears slipping from your eyes. “How is that fair? I spent valuable time on the shooter…how did he deserve my time more than any of the others?”

Jack held your gaze, reaching out a hand to you, “It’s not our call. It’s our duty to save, protect the hive, that’s it. We don’t make that judgment call.”

“And that’s good enough for you?”

“No.” He said honestly. “But it needs to be. He was a coward. He’ll have his day in court now, answer for it.”

You huffed and looked away from him again, fiercely wiping away your tears. “Is it wrong to say he doesn’t deserve it?”

“No. It’s human.” He sighed, “We all hesitated.”

You stayed silent, features screwed up as tear tracks caught the evening light. You grabbed his outstretched hand and squeezed, looking down and taking in the details of his skin.

“Don’t let him take your humanity, or your kindness. He’s not worth it. You got into medicine to save, don’t let the outside morals screw with that. You did your job, saved a life. Saved countless lives just this week alone.”

“That sounds like something I would say.” You whispered, running your fingers over the lines in his palms. “Bright side, and all that.”

His lips quirked, “Someone has to be that for you, sometimes. I can be that right now.”

Your face remained as it was, confliction warring in your eyes.

He let out a long breath, “We can’t think about what people do once they leave here, or before they’ve come in. That’s not for us to take on. You did your job, that’s it. There was only one fatality tonight — twenty-two people are going to walk out of here. That matters.”

“Well, what about the next one? Might not be Pittsburgh, but it’ll be somewhere.” Your tone was flat, dejected.

He squeezed your hand and forced you to look at him, “We’re just worker bees doing what we can to protect the hive, just this one. Can only work one hive at a time. We could spiral all night, go back and forth over this, doesn’t change the fact that you did the right thing even if he didn’t deserve it. Don’t let someone’s rotten heart spoil yours, yeah?”

“You know, the more you go on about hives, the more I think you want to be a hobby beekeeper.” You said, cracking a tiny smile.

Jack’s lips mirrored yours. “There she is.”

You moved under the safety railing and into Jack’s awaiting arms.

“Thank you.” You said into his shoulder, holding him to you like he might disappear.

He kissed your forehead, “No thanks necessary, sweetheart. You’ve talked me off a ledge a time or two, only returning the favor.”

“You mean a lot to me.” You told him, high emotions making you particularly vulnerable, curling your fingers are his scrubs. “I’m glad I moved to Pittsburgh, found you. Better than what I wanted. You were exactly what I needed.”

A feeling swelled in his chest, his throat growing tight with emotion. It felt hard for him to articulate everything swirling around his heart. It was more than care, to be certain, but he found that more than that still scared him. He tightened his arms around you, kissing the side of your face.

The sun peeked through the clouds in his heart, the storm giving way to something equally as powerful. It felt a whole lot like love, adoration, respect, fear, all rolled into one complex ball. Words seemed to fail him, thinking none of the ones he thought of would be enough to explain the aching in his chest. Love.

He settled on, “I’m glad you found me too.”

[ Next ]

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All: @nixandtonic

it’s not me if there’s no angst lol

three parts to go + an epilogue!

[qqueenofhades]

I just feel like even if we all vote and Biden wins, Trump won't accept the loss, and eventually they'll just put him in anyway. And then there won't be another real election. Even if Biden wins and somehow is actually confirmed (which again, I think is unlikely) we're going to have to do this for 30 more years because of the SC, and that isn't at all sustainable.

All this isn't to say I won't vote but I just think people are being way too optimistic about what happens if Biden wins. I don't think him winning will keep Trump out or the horrible fascist future at bay.

Look, I get the fear. I do, I do... but this is also one of the times when you have to ask if it's actually telling you something true, or if it's just preying on that generalized feeling of doom to make everything seem hopeless even if we win again. And that is... there is absolutely no actual mechanism for Trump to be installed as president if Biden wins the Electoral College (since as we have repeatedly seen, the popular vote is immaterial). SCOTUS is horrible and evil and are trying to interfere as much ahead of time for Trump as they can, but part of that is because they can't simply issue an order for Biden to be removed and Trump to become God King By Fiat. That is not how it works. If Biden wins in November, he will be president until his term ends, he steps down, Kamala takes over, or anything else.

Trump tried a coup with all the entire overwhelming might of the US government as the sitting president last time; fortunately, it failed. Reforms to the Electoral Count Act have been made to prevent another January 6. The Department of Defense and the military are still under (and would be on another January 6) Biden's command, not Trump's. That's not to say that Trump won't try some shit with his insane cult followers, but he is just a late 70s conman from Queens out on bail and under sentence for a criminal trial, who is already the biggest and most disgraced loser and asshole in American political history. He is so desperate to cheat his way back into power because in a real sense, this IS the last-chance saloon for him. He can't put off the legal proceedings, however long they take, for another four years. He's losing his marbles at a rapid rate. I'm just saying: we don't know what or when, but there will be (and already have been) real consequences for him. That is why he is scrabbling so hard.

"Even if we vote, nothing matters and Trump will win anyway" is another of those insidious lies that works to make you feel as if the battle is endless and pointless and none of its victories matter. Of course it will not all be magically fixed forever if Biden wins. We will still have to figure some godforsaken fucking way to expand SCOTUS or kick Alito and Thomas off it. But we will have bought ourselves, our democracy, our country, and the world time to do that, and put another nail in Trump's coffin. That matters. It matters a lot.

Fascism wants to present itself as overwhelming, irresistible, inevitable, and ready to happen no matter what you do, and that's what your brain wants you to buy in now. But that's not the case, Trump is not inevitable or some all-powerful monolith (in fact, another of the debate takeaways seemed to be that Biden looked bad but people still hate Trump too much for it to really shift anything). He is a loser, a fraud, a conman, a liar, and a crook, and he WANTS you to fear him like an almighty god. Don't give him or the MAGAGOP the satisfaction.

Frankly, having to endure another four months of this might kill us all, and I know that we are tired and scared (me too). But IT IS NOT INEVITABLE THAT WE ARE DOOMED. Not at all. Let's hang onto that and tell that anxiety doom voice to shove it.

Hugs.

[menelausblues]

confirmation bias.

꒰ you and xavier are so made for each other that you get each other the same gifts. ꒱

𖥔 ݁ 1k. semi-canon compliant. established relationship au. reader/mc and xavier get each other the same gifts. domestic fluff. humor. this was for valentine's day.

mdni.

at first, it’s dreadful, but then it’s amusing. you seem to both follow a similar track of thought as you look down at the unwrapped, identical gifts then back to one another in silence before bubbling into laughter at the absurdity of it all, at the way fate tangles you both so closely you always become mirrors.  it makes all your loving desires seem selfish, the way it’s your own names locked in obsessive loops only separated by breaths. “it almost feels pointless.” you utter through the remains of your laughter, picking up the pacakaged headphones and shaking your head. “i can’t believe we got each other the same gift.” xavier grabs your free hand, bringing it to his lips to kiss your knuckles. “i don’t think so. we had the same need. we have the same tastes. if anything, it only solidifies we’re more compatible than ever.” “ever the optimist.” you sigh, looking at him lovingly. you two really are the same in so many ways. it doesn’t feel like dating yourself, but it feels like dating someone created with the specific purpose of loving you and being loved by you. made for one another or whatever belief those lost in love willfully embody.

xavier shakes his head, bringing your wrist to his mouth to kiss gingerly. “i’ll happily believe in anything that reinforces the idea that you and i should be together. i prefer all signs that point back to me being your one and only.” “do you need signs for that when i’m openly committed to you?” you ask, your voice breathy as your heart oscillates wildly with every tender touch of his lips. “i think it kind of speaks for itself, no?” a chuckle as he pulls you closer to him. “do we need eggs to add to ramen? no, but it makes it taste even better.” his nose rubs against yours and you know his heart must have become a melting thing teeming in his chest. he’s always like this when his ardor overflows. he gets handsy and his mouth becomes indulgent, placing kisses against any visible flesh he can find.  the offering is always a tangible vow followed and enforced by the discipline of prayer. so after a moment of closeness, he moves the gifts aside and sinks his head to your thighs in a quiet plea to receive. it’s in these moments that you feel worshipped most by him, exalted by your light-adorned disciple. you run your fingers through his hair soothingly. voice soft and moony, laced with fondness and the hint of amusement, you say, “you just like confirmation bias. you’ll ignore anything that suggests we aren’t meant to be together.” an affirmative hum. “a reasonable response considering it would be wrong. i have unintentionally matching gifts with you as proof.” you snort a laugh. “just because you don’t like it doesn’t mean it isn’t also a sign.” a pout shapes his lips and he looks up at you with narrowed eyes. “are you trying to be incompatible with me? i’ll take it as a positive sign because you know i get bored easily if there’s no challenge.”

“you don’t care about challenges. you let me cheat in kitty card and you purposely knocked over your blocks during pile it up.” xavier chuckles but only rubs his face against your legs, comfortable in his position with you, comfortable in how easily you surrender to obliging him in the form of caressing his cheek. “you’re wrong,” he mumbles, eyes falling shut. “ i wasn’t trying to win those games. i was trying to win you .” you laugh softly, always amused by his reasoning. “you already have me.” silence settles between you both, comfortable and relieving like coming home. you figure he’s fallen asleep as he does, his breathing steady and eyes closed, but he speaks in that soft, dulcet tone of his, indistinguishable from a lullaby the way it always mollifies your heart. “i love you.” he declares in all fondness. it’s not like it’s his first time. it’s just that he always says it like it is. “and i love when things reinforce the idea that we love each other. is that so bad?” and your poor heart, already so tied in knots of promises and vows inspired by his love, loops in on itself in the shape of his name once more for good measure. you sigh, consumed by the sudden swarm of ardor that sweeps across the span of your torso. “it’s not bad at all.” you murmur. “you know i love you, too.” he reaches to place his hand over your own. “since you love me so much i think you should talk about how compatible we are specifically when we’re on the elevator with our neighbor who loves looking at you.” the amusement is immediate as the image of your older neighbor, mister ivan, who loves to stare and sing praises of your beauty seeps into your mind. xavier’s always been civil with other tenants and prefers to appear unbothered, but once he witnessed ivan’s elation at the prospect of seeing you up close, he started to become progressively more resistant and snappy regarding him. “now xavier,” you bite back a laugh. “don’t be petulant. he’s an old man.”

a dramatic sigh befalls him. “and? i’m not being petulant. i simply think a reminder of our very obviously unbreakable commitment is in order.” “is that so?” you ask teasingly. “i don’t know. i kind of like being the sweet, pretty neighbor everyone fawns over but knows they can’t have.” xavier snorts, grumbling, “and i enjoy not having to fight my elders about you being the sweet, fawned over neighbor.” “i can’t help it that i’m linkon’s darling.” you chime with an obnoxious grin. “you knew what you were signing up for. i’m very popular.” cerulean eyes and snowy lashes flutter to look up at you. his mouth sets into a cute, distinct pout as grips your hand. “xavier’s darling first and linkon’s absolutely, one hundred percent dead last.” “how are you jealous of the city we protect?” “i’m not jealous.” he denies. “i have nothing to be jealous of.” your disbelieving scoff follows. “so… that’s why you turned the lights out the last time we were in the elevator with mister ivan?” closing his eyes again, xavier shrugs. “there was nothing he needed to see until he got to his door. i was only helping him stay focused.”

[stayinlimbo]

Unsaid (Not Unwritten)

pairing: lee minho x gn!reader genre/warnings: established relationship, hurt/comfort, previous communication issues being resolved, mentions of not feeling loved, forgiveness because they do actually love each other, like one swear word lmao, self-indulgent af because i have free will word count: 0.6k note:  is this based off a true story? yes. what's the moral? communication requires effort but is so worth it. i feel like i couldn't portray this fic in the way i wanted to but i tried my best ♡

Minho’s front door is chipping. That’s to be expected, considering the apartment complex is ancient, and his landlord is unwilling to give the place a much-needed paint job. You’ve never really taken the time to inspect the old wood or notice the small patches of discoloration, revealing the original color scattered along its expanse. You’ve never hesitated to knock on his door, either.

Stalling the inevitable is pointless; you know that. However, it doesn’t stop you from hesitating, hovering a fist inches away from the very door you’ve stood in front of for the past five minutes. The carefully folded piece of paper crinkles in your other hand, tightly gripped by your side as you take a steadying breath to calm your thumping heart.  

Eight rhythmic knocks echo against the wood. There’s no going back; he’s sure to know it’s you now.

Ten seconds, twenty seconds, thirty seconds. The wait has never been so daunting. There’s no one else in the hallway to see you rocking back and forth on your heels—no one to see your cautiously optimistic gaze glued to his door.

Forty seconds. Maybe he needs to prepare himself before he sees you. Fifty seconds. Or maybe this was a bad idea. You can feel yourself physically deflating. Maybe he doesn’t want to see you yet. One minute. But what if he didn’t hear you? Should you knock again? There’s no harm in trying.

You raise your fist again, and the door creaks open. 

You quickly shuffle backward a couple of steps in surprise, retracting your hand back down to your side. Minho peeks his head out of the door, his downcast eyes slightly widening and then squinting when they meet yours.  

Minho opens the door further, shuffling around the entryway to face you directly. He scans over your disheveled figure, a small consequence of rushing over to his place and taking the stairs instead of the elevator, with a pensive look. “What—“

“I’m sorry,” you say, cutting him off and watching his lips part in surprise. “I’m sorry I haven’t been making you feel as loved as you deserve.”

Minho slowly nods, his gaze softening and brows quirking up in a way you know it’s okay to continue. You give him a small smile, closing the distance between you until you’re less than a foot away from him. 

You grab his hand, gently turning it upward, and place the folded paper in this palm. “Because I do love you, even if I’ve been communicating it in a really shitty way.” 

Minho looks down at the paper, scribbled writing peeking out from the interior, and back at you in question. 

“I’m not good at verbally telling you how I feel, so I tried writing down everything I could,” you murmur, seeing a look of astonishment cross your boyfriend’s face. 

“Can I read it now?” Minho asks, smiling as he flicks his gaze between you and the letter. 

You lightly shrug, trying to ignore your warming cheeks. “If you want to.”

Minho unfolds the letter, bringing it closer to his face. You wait with bated breath, wringing your fingers in front of you as your boyfriend’s eyes trail over the letter you poured out of your heart and soul. 

“If you don’t like it, you can burn it,” you say, half-joking. 

Minho snaps his head up at your voice. “Do you mean it? Do you mean everything you wrote?”

“Of course, I do, dummy,” you laugh, sending him what you’re sure is the epitome of a lovesick smile. “I love you.”

Minho crosses the door’s threshold, wrapping his arms around your waist as yours simultaneously wrap around his middle. 

“I love you, too,” he whispers into your neck, pressing plush kisses along the skin. “Thank you.”

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[missaccuracy]

thoughts abt the recent atla comic ashes of the academy?

I'm gonna give quick thoughts based on the first impression, overall it was pretty mid for me. There was staff that I liked, but at the same time I think it's getting some valid critisizm.

On the positive side, I'm glad we got some more screen time for Mai, it's her solo comic, after all. I've seen an opinion that she was ooc for liking to be around kids and for all of the erasing of her imperialistic backstory (but that's not only Mai's problem, I'll get to that later). And while I'd agree that it's unusual to see her being warm around kids, I wouldn't say it's nessessary ooc, Mai was emotionally repressed her whole life, but when she got the chance, she showed her softer side and at the same time she has such a calm and intelligent aura to her and I liked her very much.

As for Azula, I'd completely lost my hope that they'd do anything interesting with her by the middle of the comic. I don't have a problem with her being a spoiled little brat, but I still hoped we'd get some interesting beats with kid Azula. As it is, we didn't get much interesting content on the dangerous ladies and anything particularly new about Azula, which is just boring.

I also wanted something differrent for Kiyi. She's almost pointless for the overall plot and I wanted for her to have a more meaningful role in the story. Instead, she's just kinda there and doesn't do anything important which is a shame to me.

Zuko doesn't have much screen time in this comic, but he's pretty much in character to me as well. What I thought was strange is Ursa and mainly how she wonders what went wrong with Azula instead of, you know, worrying about more important things, like Azula's current whereabouts? She's Azula's mother, why doesn't she bring up the subject of trying to find Azula?

And of course:

We shouldn't forget that Ursa had an off-screen anti-imperialist redemption to the point of her being sarcastic about the Fire Nation's traditions now.

This is a genuinely annoying problem that many other people have already pointed out. The narrative doesn't address characters who had an imperialistic past, like Ursa and Mai, for the sake of making them kinda "always good". It's pretty lame to sweep that under the rug and I see why so many fans are complaining about this. The main theme about the academy bringing out the worst in the students was also kinda perplexing. I think the comic tried to show that it enabled Azula's worst tendencies, but it really didn't show Azula's regression for the worse. It's not that Azula needed to be an angel at the beginning, no one argues that Azula wasn't prone to violence herself, but it still would've been better if Azula got from level 1 to level 2 in mischief and manipulation.

I'll have to add that Ty Lee's brief appearance was nice, she's her usual optimistic self. But I got sad when she didn't appear in the flashbacks, I hoped to see the whole trio together as kids.

Additionally, some panels that I liked:

I can feel Mai's awkwardness about the first time of being a teacher.

And this:

I laughed at this one. Azula's reaction to the knives flying straight towards her is genuinely funny. I like how in the comics Azula is completely unfased whenever some sharp objects are coming her way. She doesn't even remotely panic and just slightly moves her head to the side. Simply badass.

[bambi-kinos]

hey... what do you make of just like starting over and real love? do you think theyre rlly about paul? i think they are, but i struggle to believe john was finally making up his mind like that

Paul almost certainly thinks that (Just Like) Starting Over is about him. He purportedly listened to it on repeat for days right after John died and then there's the "walrus" referenced in the first draft of the lyrics, as well as the line about making love in Paris. I absolutely believe that Paul is the primary recipient of (Just Like) Starting Over.

I don't think it was John making up his mind per se...I think it was more like, John was unhappy with how he had left things with Paul and he was feeling optimistic about their future, so long as they stayed the course and renewed their love. However John is still John, he reached out to May Pang the same year and reconnected with a bunch of people out of the blue. Which is to say that yes, he did want to renew things with Paul and patch things up with him. But he also prepared some back ups in case that didn't work out for him. I think it was Harry Nilsson that received a middle of the night phone call from John where John was really warm to him after being out of touch for years. (Just Like) Starting Over was written with Paul as its true object and in John's heart of hearts I believe he wanted to make a new bond of love with Paul, but I also think that it is written as such that John could tell any of his old flames that "this one's for you" and mean it.

Which brings us to Real Love, I think that Real Love is also intended to be about Paul. However Real Love is a lot older and to quote a random twitter user I saw when Now and Then dropped, "it's another Lennon misery fest." When John wrote the beginnings of Real Love he certainly had Paul on his mind (hence the "lalalala farm" bit in the initial "Real Life" noodling around.) Whatever was going on with John staying in the Dakota, he was clearly longing for Paul and desperately wished things were different. But Real Love lacks the hopeful and anticipatory tone of (Just Like) Starting Over. I think John wanted to do more with Paul than sit in a studio with him again IYKWIM.

Real Love feels a lot more like an expression of John's regrets and how he wished things were different, that he had gone a different way. It actually strikes me as more of a venting song than something John really wanted to polish and bring to the public, "why must we be alone?" is a question John seems to have been asking himself through out the Dakota years. He put himself in this position and he is trying to understand why he did it to himself, even asking seemingly silly and pointless questions like "why am I so alone, why isn't Paul here with me, didn't I hold him in my arms just yesterday?" ('Yesterday' again....I said something wrong now he's gone away....and I don't believe in Yesterday myself....I never wished I had written it....now I long for yesterday....)

But when you're making vent art you don't ask yourself sophisticated questions, you ask yourself really obvious ones that you know the answer to but you've been scared to answer fully because it means accepting that you've known this entire time and haven't done anything about it. The Real Life demo we have ends with "just call him on the phone."

(Just Like) Starting Over is John making his first steps towards a new future that he wants Paul to be a part of while still being uncertain about what that entails. Real Love is John coming to grips with the scale of his loss and bewilderment at how he got here, the intervening years between his successful love affair with Paul vs the drug addled years in the Dakota being a smeared blur.

I don't think John had necessarily made up his mind about Paul. More like he realized his relationship with Yoko had run its course (whether he knew she was a parasite is another question.) That was his chance to be with Paul again.

[utilitycaster]

On the last episode of Divergence, it made me so happy to watch when Liam heard Brennan say "By road's end" and I could see his brain connect it with "Byroden" and I was once again really touched by the... tenderness, I suppose, with which this miniseries is treating that period of time and the world of Exandria.

I don't intend to use this ask as a place to just shit talk c3 because even tho i AM a hater at heart it just feels more than pointless to do it now, but after years of watching a group of characters actively refuse to engage with the world and its history having these 3 episodes go out of their way to show that history happening and how the people of Exandria cared for each other feels really refreshing and I was wondering if this is something others have felt too or if I'm just bitter at this point

So: I do think it's kind of bitterness, which isn't like, bad, but isn't necessarily helpful either.

I will personally admit that like. how do I put this. I love how Byroden was developed and portrayed in EXU Prime by Aabria and Aimee, but I've never particularly been that deeply attached to it (though understandably Liam would be). The twins' story is much more about Byroden as a place they cannot go home to and so I suppose I never felt a need to go there, because what's important about them is what Vex found in Whitestone and Vax in Zephrah (and both of them in Emon).

The above paragraph may seem a little like a digression but I think it's worth bringing up because, much as I adore Campaign 2 for spending so much time establishing the place of Wildemount, Fjord's story is no less strong for us not seeing Port Damali in the same way Yasha's is no less strong for us not seeing the Iothia Moorlands during the course of the campaign. As characters, Vex, Vax, Fjord, and Yasha all are so rich and interesting and develop so thoroughly over the course of their stories that we don't need to see every little piece of the world. And I don't think the problem with Campaign was lack of care; I think it is, again, lack of preparation combined with a highly specific intended...plot's not the right word even, but setup, that played to the characters' weaknesses and for which insufficient guidance was given. I think the cast and Matt all love Exandria, and it's just...they were trying to collaborate on a story where most of them didn't know what the fuck was going on and were stuck playing people who didn't particularly care what was going on. I think the cast would have loved to have explored the Shattered Teeth, but they couldn't! I think they'd have liked to have spent more time in Yios, or the Feywild, or Isslrya, or on Ruidus, and they kept being shoved from place to place to place. It is not lack of care; it's just that this was a story that needed to be told very differently. I do place the bulk of the blame on Matt because this is a DM-ing problem, and the problem was that Bells Hells engaging with the world wasn't rewarded with any kind of payoff because payoff probably would have derailed this whole moon plot or made the campaign 300 episodes long, so Matt didn't reward it, so the cast stopped doing it.

For what it's worth this is why I am generally optimistic if cautious about future works; because while I'll admit that some of Bells Hells' character concepts fail to impress me, I don't think the cast came in with the intention of playing indecisive and selfish idiots; it's just that they were not really given much to work with. Even Laudna's unbelievably unsympathetic behavior in the finale feels less like "I'm an asshole here to break things" and more on a Doylist level of Marisha trying to make some conflict happen for once. To be clear, it still makes me think the character sucks, but it was just a poor alignment of DM and player goals that never got resolved and would have been so easy to avoid that it's impossible to excuse, and Divergence seems to have had a much more robust planning stage. That is ultimately it.

[anamericangirl]

What’s a good reason to not take my own life? I’ve been feeling this way for years. Been to multiple treatment programs. Seen by several different therapists. Anti-depressants. I frequently go outdoors to exercise. Try to fill up my life with being optimistic about my (admittedly nice) job, hobbies, travel, and volunteering. And yet I’m still no better than I was 5 years ago and I have no hope about a happy future. “Your family will miss you.” Ok, and? I think it’s selfish to tell people in pain to continue living like that because some people might temporarily feel sad. They’ll eventually move on. My friends too, especially the ones who are happily married “to their best friends” and having babies and are so happy that they forget I exist.

Hey anon I hope I am not too late! I am just getting out of a hurricane and was without internet access for several days so i apologize for the delay.

But there are so many reasons not to take your own life. In fact, I can’t think of a single reason why you should.

I know it’s tough right now and trust me, I know that depression makes it all feel pointless and worthless and can plague you for years but even though if feels like forever I promise you these feelings and this depression and your circumstances are TEMPORARY. And it would be a tragedy for you to take your life over temporary circumstances and not see what is possible on the other side.

Yes your family and friends will miss you but you should stay because your life has purpose and meaning! Therapy and anti-depressants are good and I’m glad you’ve been trying those things because that means you don’t actually want to die - you just want the pain to stop. And that’s completely understandable and also manageable!

It’s great that you’ve been continuing to exercise and do volunteer work because those things can definitely impact your mood, but they aren’t the source of true joy, peace and happiness. Now I’m a Christian so I’m sure it won’t surprise you for me to say this, but what you are looking for and what you need can only come from God. I urge you to put your faith and trust in him and give him your burdens.

The devil has a hold on you right now, don’t let him win!

“So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.” - Isaiah 41:10

For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. - Jeremiah 29:11

“The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.” - John 10:10

“Cast your cares on the LORD and he will sustain you; he will never let the righteous be shaken.” - psalm 55:22

“The LORD is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit. The righteous person may have many troubles, but the LORD delivers him from them all.” - psalm 34:18-19

But now that I’ve gone on my spiel, here are some reasons I think it’s good to keep living. Not all my original thoughts but ones i agree with.

1. You matter

2. No one else is you.

3. Your younger self

4. Your next favorite song.

5. Warm blankets.

6. Thunderstorms

7. The fact that you’re in control of your future.

8. Experiencing new cultures.

9. Making new friends.

10. Road trips.

11. Sunsets and sunrises.

12. Reading good books.

13. Learning a new language.

14. Adopting a pet.

15. Fresh baked bread and cookies.

16. Getting packages in the mail.

17. Autumn.

18. Pumpkin spice.

19. Drinking coffee in the morning.

20. Beaches and being able to sink your toes into the sand.

21. Stepping on crunchy leaves.

22. Recovery.

23. Falling in love.

24. Rain.

25. Petting puppies and kittens.

26. Drinking water.

27. Trying something new and loving it.

28. Your favorite artist putting out new music.

29. A new season on your favorite TV show.

30. Planting a garden and growing your own vegetables.

31. Farmers Markets.

32. Trying out the newest local coffee shop or restaurant.

33. Karaoke

34. All of the people you have yet to meet.

35. Horseback riding

36. Stars.

37. Ice cream.

38. Ice tea.

39. Scented candles.

40. Learning something new.

41. Museums.

42. Going to the movies.

43. Hearing your favorite song come on the radio.

44. Learning to make a new recipe.

45. Your life is precious.

46. You are enough.

47. Random acts of kindness.

48. God looked at the world and thought it needed you.

49. Your story could save someone else.

50. Looking back on this time in 10 years and realizing you made it.

There’s an endless amount of reasons to stay alive and I hope some of them resonate with you.

But if you are desperate please reach out to the suicide prevention hotline at 988. If you are outside the US then you can find the number for your location here.

Please know that I am praying for you and please reach out to me again if you want to. I would love to keep up with how you are doing 💜

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

All the Good Girls Go To Hell 18

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, power imbalance, injury, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You come home for the summer but your break is not as relaxing as you expect.

Character: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers

Note: this week has been a week!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

You steer along to Naomi's directions, hesitant as she has you turn towards the mall. You're pretty sure this isn't the right way but you have no idea. You just assumed they all lived in the same suburbs.

"Um, Nay?" You roll slowly between the rows of cars, "is this a shortcut or something?"

"Pfft, nope! We're going shopping. We need something cute to wear to the party."

"Shopping?" You frown, "I don't... have money."

"I do," she wiggles her phone, "the miracle of technology. I still have all the cards on my cell."

"Oh, do you think that's a good idea?"

"Look, we can't show up looking like this," she whines, "besides, it'll be fun. Girls' day!"

"Mmm, well, I'm fine in what I'm wearing," you shrug as you look for a spot.

Her phone lights up and she quickly reads the screen, blacking it out and rolling her eyes. She flips down the visor and checks herself in the mirror as you strain to see around her. You turn into an empty spot and roll up the windows.

"You have to get something extra cute. It's not about the boys, alright? It's about us."

"Sure," you say, letting your seat belt repel as you stare across the lot.

You still can't believe it. You're effectively homeless and Naomi doesn't seem to care. Well, she's used to the uncertainty by now, you can understand now how it made her so erratic.

You exhale. What else can you do? Wallow in reality. The distraction might do you well. No wonder she's always up to something. Anything. It's not pointless when the important things are so scary.

"Come on," she nudges you, "I wanna dress you up!"

You peek at her and give in with a nod. You grab your purse and fix your glasses. Anything to waste time, not that you're looking forward to anything.

She leads the way down the aisle of cars, almost skipping. You can't decide if she's compartmentalizing well or hopelessly optimistic. You drag your soles up the tarmac as she rushes ahead to the mall doors.

Inside, the crowd makes you want to turn around. Something about seeing the families clustered together and the teenagers hanging off each other makes you feel even more out of place. They all have somewhere to go after this. Ugh, how quickly it all dimmed to gray.

"Alright," Naomi hooks her arm through yours, "let's find the shortest dresses in this damn place."

"Nay," you huff.

"You're gonna rock it. Trust," she giggles, "you always look so sexy." She leans into you, "and tonight, we're gonna get lit."

☀️

Hours spent traversing the mall and your feet thrum. The day is far from over. As you drive down the cul de sac you dread the finish to the long day. A party. You're not a party person and the last one you went to…

Yikes.

Naomi has her seat belt off before you even stop. You shift into park as she reaches over to hit the horn, honking up at the large house. She trills and gets out, grabbing the bags out of the back as she watches the door expectantly. 

You climb out on your side, lingering nervously as she heads towards the winding little walkway to the steps. The door opens as she gets to the bottom. Harry greets her with a smirk and a wink, opening his arms.

"Kitty cat," he purrs, "funny seeing you here."

"Whatever, Harry," she chirps, "don't act like you weren't waiting for me."

"Mm," his eyes flit towards you, "didn't tell me you were bringing a friend."

"Two for the price of one," she lets him kiss her lips, "you know how… he is. Fucking nightmare. We need to let loose."

"Bring any goodies?" He looks at the bags in her hand curiously.

"No drinks," she pouts, "sorry, baby."

You slowly make your way up the walkway and hide behind her. You feel like an intruder. You wouldn't have let her bring you if you knew you weren't invited.

"It's fine," Harry says as he backs up, "Peter'll be here. Him and Gwen are on the outs again."

“Boo. So… can we come in or what? We gotta get all thotty for the party.”

He scoffs and waves her inside. You trail a few paces back and give a sheepish smile. He hardly seems concerned with you as he watches Naomi’s ass. Right, you’re not expecting much tonight. Really, you don’t know what to expect.

“Come on, sweetie,” Naomi looks over her shoulder as she struts on, “let’s get you dolled up.”

☀️

The lilac sheath overlaid in indigo and silver sequins is much to scant to your liking. When you tried it on in the store, you swore you'd put it back. Naomi insisted and put it in the basket before you could argue.

The dress is even skimpier than you remember, or maybe it’s Naomi’s insistence that you skip the bra. She didn’t like how the straps peeked out under the narrow purple ones. You’ll be spending most of this occasion with your arms crossed.

You hear voices as you follow her down the hall. You feel ridiculous. She spent too much time prettying you up and it doesn’t feel like long enough. The one thing she couldn’t convince you of is to leave your glasses behind. The last thing you need is to be stumbling into strangers.

“Harry,” she squeals as she takes you through the open sliding door into the backyard. There’s a folding table lined with colourful shot glasses and a cooler underneath. There are several guests already milling about and gabbing noisily. “There you are.”

She saunters forward and you stay stuck to the ground as you watch her sling her arms around Harry. He lets her and puts his hand on her lower back. They kiss, long and sloppy. You knew it wouldn’t be pretty with Naomi sipping vodka while she got dressed.

“Hey, didn’t know you were coming,” a voice shakes you from your worry.

You look over as Peter steps up. A reddish curl hangs down his forehead as he grins at you. He wears a striped short-sleeve button up and teal shorts. His muscled chest peeks out the top as he holds a red solo cup.

“How about a drink?” He offers.

“I don’t know–”

“Sort of the whole deal here, to have some fun,” he says, “she sure will be.”

He glances across the yard as Naomi hangs off of Harry, his hand now firmly on her ass. Oh, yeah, you don’t know why you’re disappointed. You cross your arms and turn back to Peter. You catch his eyes flick up from your chest. Great.

“Uh, sure, why not, I’ll have a soda.”

“Soda and…” he tilts his head coyly.

Your furrow your brows, “come on, specs, live a little,” he grabs your hand and you teeter as he tugs on you. You give in if only to keep from tripping over your own toes. He takes you to the long table and grabs two of the shot glasses, presenting the neon jello shots with a devilish grin.

“Let’s start with the appetizer.”

You accept the orange one. You examine it. You’ve never had one before. It jiggles as you move the glass.

“Go on,” he clacks his glass against yours and raises it, swiftly dumping it in his mouth.

You sigh and do the same. One shot won’t hurt. It’s sweet enough and mostly cool. You can taste the alcohol for sure but it’s not awful. You put down the empty cup and gulp down the melting gelatin.

“Mmm,” you hum through your full mouth.

“Alright, so what’s next? You want a cooler? You a beer girl?” He bends and flips open the cooler.

“Really, that’s good for me–”

“Raspberry lemon twist,” he pulls out a bright pink can, “that seems like a you drink.”

He holds it out. You stare at it. He still has his red cup in his other hand. You reluctantly take the can. He looks at you until you crack the tab open.

“Thanks,” you murmur.

He winks and takes a drink from his cup, “better catch up,” he pulls the brim back, “oh, and before I get obnoxious, I should tell you how good you look.”

“Uh, thank you,” you take a tentative sip. It’s not bad, stringent but palatable.

“You seem… grim,” his smile falls, “what’s up?”

“Nothing,” you lie.

“Look, I’m not looking for a therapy session but there’s obviously something going on–”

“Really, it’s nothing,” you crane and look for Naomi as you hear her giggle.

“Ah, yeah, trouble follows her around,” he says, “she can take care of herself. It’s a party. You need to let loose. You’re wound so tight, I’m sure you could use it.”

You turn back to him, “not to be rude but what do you care?”

“Well, I’m going through a break up. Again,” he looks into his cup and swishes around the contents, “and I need to get a little bit loose myself. So, you and me, we’re sticking together. Think you’re the only one here who doesn’t know Gwen so, yeah.”

“Ah, got it,” you say dryly.

“No, get it,” he insists as he pokes the bottom of your can, “let’s go, sunshine. Get messy.”

You let your eyes fall back to the top of the can. What is the point in staying sober in a sea of drunk idiots? You’re done being the wallflower and you’re done tiptoeing around. It’s one night and you’re not going to spend it thinking about Steve or your mom.

You lift the can and gulp from the top, stopping before you can choke. You cover your mouth and swallow painfully, holding back a bubbly belch. Peter chuckles and empties his cup.

“There we go,” he encourages you, “I knew you had it in you.”

☀️

The world is slanted. You feel light and heavy at the same time. Your vision is hazy at the corners and each step is uneven. You have your arms slightly out as you make your way across the room.

You fall onto the sofa next to Naomi as Harry talks loudly beside her. As usual, she’s in the middle of the crowd, enjoying the limelight. She looks over as you jostle her and she slumps towards you.

“Heyyyyyyy, you’re here,” she says as if she forgot.

“Mmm,” you withhold a hiccup, “yeah…”

She smiles and reaches up to pet your cheek, “are you drunk?”

“Little,” you admit as she caresses your face.

“She’s blitzed,” Peter perches on the armrest on your other side, “told her not to keep pace with me.”

“Whatever,” you blather, your tongue clumsy as his chirping piques your irritation. “You’re the one… giving me drinks.”

“Aw, babe, you’re silly,” Naomi preens as her hand tickles down your neck, “Pete, Pete,” she hisses as she waves in his direction, leaning over you, “doesn’t she look fucking hot?”

You grab the hem of your dress, remembering how short it is. She flutters her fingers down the strap and gropes your chest. You swat her away and squeal.

“You should see what’s underneath,” Naomi slurs.

“Nay,” you catch her hand as she tries to grab you again.

“What? Why are you being like this?” She snips, “she sleeps in my bed and now she’s acting like a little prude.”

“Naomi,” you exclaim.

“I made her cum, you know? She was whining and whimpering–”

“Naomi, stop,” you beg as her other hand crawls back up along your cheek, “shut up.”

“Why, baby? I’m being nice,” she looks at you with her glassy eyes. She’s so drunk her head wobbles. “You like it when I’m nice, don’t you?”

She leans in as you hear Peter snicker. Before you can stop her, her lips are on yours. You wriggle helplessly and push on her shoulder. She slips her hand behind your head, keeping you pinned between her and the couch as her other hand creeps along your thigh. You hear others oohing and awing at her scene.

You whine and shove her as hard as you can. She recoils with a gasp as she wipes the slobber from her lips. You can’t believe what she just did. You know she’s drunk, and you are too, but you don’t understand why she’d do that. 

“Ah, come on, that was fucking hot,” Peter growls.

“Yeah, that was sexy,” Harry agrees, “go on, girls, let’s get the full show–”

You grunt as you shove yourself up to your feet. It’s difficult to get them under you as your head swims dizzily. You feel Naomi try to latch on but you swipe her away. Peter pinches your ass and you yipe as you stumble and hurry away. What’s going on?

You stagger across the room without looking back. Are they following you? Where’s your phone? You have to call your mom. You’re scared.

You find your cell outside and find your mother’s number. You stop from pressing down on the screen. You can’t call her, she hates you.

You clasp your cell tight and wade through the shadows around the house. You sidle through the tight space between the fence and the siding and come out to the front lawn. Your car is blocked in by a bunch of others. It doesn’t even matter, you can’t see straight, let alone drive.

Your phone flashes suddenly and you answer without checking the screen. 

“Hello?” You garble as you walk aimlessly along the driveway.

“Hey, sweetie, you okay?”

“Dad?” You utter as the deep voice surprises you.

“No, honey, it’s me. Bucky. I’ve been calling you–”

“Bucky…” you mope, “no. I want… I want my mom. I want my dad, please.”

“Doll, where are you?”

“I don’t want to talk to you. I know what you did,” you close your eyes and push your lip out.

“Sweetheart, where’s Naomi?”

“Naomi?” You repeat, “she– please help me.”

Your legs fold and you sit in the gravel. You can’t move. You don’t want to. Moving means you need to think and you’re all out of thoughts. You don’t know where to go or what to do. You’re trapped here in this suburban hellscape. Drunk and dumb and desperate.

“Are you with Naomi?” He asks as you hear a jingle on his end.

“She’s here,” you admit as you hang your head.

“Alright, sweetie, stay on the phone,” he says calmly. The even keel of his timbre comforts you, despite everything, despite his lies, his certainty eases the swell of nerves, “how are you feeling? Why don’t you look around and tell me something. Find something red for me.”

“Red?” You sniffle.

“Yeah, like I Spy,” he says, “find something red. Make me guess.”

“Um, uh,” you stutter and look around, “alright…” you hear rustling, a soft click, and footsteps. He’s moving but you don’t know what he’s doing, “I see… something red,” you focus on the lawn gnome’s cap, the round-bellied figurine standing in the garden.

“Alright, is it something… big?” He asks.

You squint and focus on his question. Hm, it’s not very big but compared to the flowers, it is. Ugh, you don’t know. You’re too drunk.

“Doll,” Bucky urges, “stay with me. You’re gonna be okay, I promise.”

[sitkowski]

just crash (it's our time now) - nicholas x ofc

pairing: nicholas ruffilo x cam (ofc) cw: ⚠️ 18+MDNI. warnings for angst, vaginal sex, fingering (f receiving), talk of birth control, praise kink of you squint. word count: 5.7k author's note: this is my first bad omens fic, hope ya'll enjoy! dedicated to all of the fantastic writers I've come to admire since starting back up with Tumblr again 🫶🏻 title comes from a You Me at Six song.

dividers by @saradika-graphics 🧡

⇉ masterpost || taglist signups

According to the directions that the guy behind the counter had given her at the car rental place, she doesn’t have that far to go before she reaches the motel. The wipers squeak noisily against the windshield, and the hum of the radio can barely be heard above the steady downpour. She can just barely make out the red neon sign ahead of her.

Cam wonders, not for the first time, if this is the right thing to do.

Only she knows it is; he said the three magic words.Not I love you, but I need you. Three little words in a broken voice during a phone call she almost didn’t answer, and the next thing she knows she’s getting a plane ticket. She’s renting a car. She’s driving through the pouring rain in the middle of the night in the middle of nowhere, Wyoming. Not just because he needs her but because she broke something and she needs to put it back together if she can.

The parking lot is surprisingly filled, but none of the vehicles look familiar to her. She parks in the first available spot, and pulls out her phone. Before she can even text him to let him know she’s there, a message pops into their chat chain, nothing but a room number. Cutting off the car, she realizes that she’s going to have to run through the rain. There’s a familiar hoodie in the passenger seat that she brought with her from home, faded and well worn and no longer smelling like the man who left it behind. She tugs it over her head before opening her door and getting out.

By the time she reaches the row of rooms on the other side of the stairwell, her clothes are soaked through. Her sneakers squelch with each step, and she ducks beneath the overhang and out of the rain. She raises her hand to knock on the door, but sees the curtains twitch. He knows she’s here, and she just stands there awkwardly until he opens the door.

She tries not to be moved by how exhausted he looks. But she always worries, it’s ingrained in her after such a long time. Even if she was the one who ended things, if she was the one who refused to bend. Beneath the exhaustion, she can see how grateful he is that she actually showed up.

“Where are the others?” she asks, in lieu of saying hello.

Nicholas steps aside to let her into the room, pressing the door closed again and Cam turns around to look at him, dripping water all over the carpet. He leans into the door. “Jolly and Folio are in a room upstairs, Matt and Noah are down the row.”

“Did you get a room by yourself just because I was coming? Optimistic of you, Nick.”

It’s mean and she knows it. She wants to take it back almost as soon as she’s said it.

“I’m the only one who didn’t catch the death flu,” he shrugs, seemingly unphased by her words. “We had to cancel two shows.”

Now Cam feels like even more of an asshole. She holds her arms out at her sides. “Shit Nicky, I’m so sorry. I—do you have, like a towel or something?”

He nods and slips around her into the bathroom. She takes off the hoodie and drapes it over one of the chairs at the small table, and toes off her shoes. They won’t be dry by morning. Movement beside her makes her turn, and Nicholas is there with a towel, as well as a t-shirt and a pair of shorts. She almost goes into the bathroom to change, but figures that’s pointless. It’s nothing he hasn’t seen before. When she takes off her wet t-shirt and jeans, he takes them for her. While he’s hanging them in the bathroom to drip dry, she puts on the offered clothes, using the towel to dry her hair and trying not to bury her face in the fabric of the shirt because it still smells like him.

Cam sits on the edge of the bed, tucking her hands between her knees. After a minute, he comes back out and sits down beside her. Just being this close to him again after the past few months makes her feel on edge. It’s not entirely a bad feeling. She almost jumps up from the bed when Nicholas reaches over and pushes her damp hair behind her ear.

“Thank you for coming,” he murmurs and she can’t help but look over at him. “You didn’t have to.”

“You said you needed me. I wasn’t going to say no.”

“You could have. I’m not your problem anymore, Camille.”

She doesn’t have an argument, because she was the one who left. She was the one who couldn’t handle getting serious and dating someone who had been her friend for so long before. Ending it was supposed to be a way for her to be able to salvage their friendship, but even months later things weren’t the same. Because she was still in love with him, and she thought coming here was going to be a way for her to either get over it or talk it out. She hadn’t let him talk it out before, she just left.

“You’re always going to be my problem, Nicholas.” Cam tentatively rests a hand on his back. “When’s the last time you slept? Like more than just a quick nap? Because I know you, and I know the canceled shows are keeping you up.” 

Nicholas sighs and rubs his eyes, shoulders hitching up in a shrug. “Yesterday, I think? The doctor cleared everyone but Matt still said we should take the weekend and rest instead of going out and doing stuff—”

“Lie back.” she insists.

When he looks at her in confusion, she rolls her eyes. It’s obvious that he needs to rest, and she isn’t going to take no for an answer. She watches as he finally relents and scoots back on the bed, practically falling back against the pillows in relief. Cam glances at the clock, it’s nearly midnight, and knowing that the others have been sick, she doesn’t want to text them just yet. She thinks that Nicholas has fallen asleep, but when she goes to turn off the bedside lamp for him, his hand reaches up to grasp her wrist.

“Where are you going? Lie down with me.”

Her original plan was just to get her own room for the night, but she stares down at him, and realizes that she can’t actually do that to him. Moving up the bed, she turns off the lamp and lays down beside him. Her body is taught with tension that melts away as the minutes pass. They lay in the darkness in silence, and Cam waits for him to speak again or try and hold her like he used to. She’d actually welcome that. But she hears his breathing even out beside her, and that’s what finally pulls her into sleep herself. She knows that this isn’t exactly what she came here for, but she promises herself she’ll tell him tomorrow.

Cam wakes up early enough that she can get her bag from her rental car and send a text to Matt before Nicholas wakes up. He’s still out cold, exhaustion taking its toll. She lets him sleep, but she’s barely put her phone down from texting Matt before another message comes through her phone. She sighs as she reads it, she knew it was coming. Putting on fresh clothes, she slips out of the motel room again and makes her way down the corridor.

Noah is waiting for her, because there was no way that she was just going to show up and not have to talk with him about this. In a way, Nicholas is his, and Cam broke his heart. If she wants to try to fix things with Nicholas, she has to go through him first.

“You don’t look like death at least,” she says with a smile, letting him pull her into a friendly hug. “How are you feeling?”

“Less like someone shoved a chainsaw down my throat.”

They walk around to the other side of the motel where there’s a little room off the office that’s meant to be a place to have breakfast. There’s a box of donuts, and a coffee machine. They get coffee, and go back outside to sit on a low brick wall nearby.

“So, he called you.” 

Cam sips her coffee, lets it burn the top of her tongue. It’s bitter. “He said he needed me, Noah.”

The scoff that he lets out is disbelieving, and she gets that. He was the one who picked up the pieces after she and Nicholas broke up. He was the one who told her that she was making a mistake. He’d been right.

“He’s been running himself ragged trying to make sure none of us actually died since he was the only one not sick. Thank you for coming to look after him.”

Noah says it as if it’s the least that Cam could do. And it probably is. “Noah, I’m sorry—”

“Nah, you and I sorted our shit out. We’re good, Camille.”

It’s as close as she’s going to get to a warm welcome, and she accepts it. She and Noah were never as close as she and Nicholas, but they were still friendly with one another. She hurt his best friend, of course he wasn’t going to have the best reaction to seeing her months later. It’s not until they’re headed back around the motel that she drops the bomb on him.

“I’m going to tell Nick that I want to work things out.”

Noah whirls around and steps closer to her, and Cam actually stumbles back a step. It’s not like he’s going to hurt her, but any friendliness from earlier is gone. He’s the one she’s got to get past if she wants to fix things, after all. And right now, the look on his face says it all.

“Why, so you can crush his heart again in four months when you can’t handle him getting too close?”

That hurts, but she knows he isn’t wrong. She wraps her arms around herself, looking towards the room where hopefully Nicholas is still sleeping. She doesn’t even know how the conversation will go. She doesn’t know if he actually wants to get back together. She could have nothing to fix.

“I love him, Noah. I never should have left.” she says, unable to keep her emotions out of her voice.

He gives her a look that is less wary than before, and Cam feels something loosen in her chest. “If you hurt him again, there won’t be a third chance, you get that right? You’ll be done.”

It’s on the tip of her tongue to tell him he doesn’t get to make that choice, but he still isn’t wrong. If she were to do something as stupid as run away again, none of them would ever speak to her again and she wouldn’t blame them one bit. But she doesn’t want to run.

“Look, if you want me to go because you don’t think I’m good enough for him—”

“Are you kidding? He’s been absolutely miserable without you, and he asked you to come here. I know you’re good enough for him, the two of you are just fucking stubborn. We don’t have to leave for two days, so fix your shit. I will get Matt to lock the two of you in that room if you don’t.”

Across the parking lot, the motel room door opens and Nicholas sticks his head out. Noah and Cam both look caught, and he rolls his eyes before ducking back inside.

Noah gives her a sympathetic look. “Have fun with that.”

“Go rest your voice, you still sound like shit.” she teases, giving him a little shove before turning and heading back towards the room.

Nicholas didn’t close the door all the way, and Cam pushes it open and steps inside, closing it back behind her.

“Nice chat with Noah?” he asks.

Coming over to the bed, she sits back down beside him. It’s hard to be this close to him and not think about the good times they had together. It’s hard not to think about the mistakes she made that put her here, feeling more awkward and shy than before they ever dated. 

“I knew the minute I called you to come he was going to corner you—”

“He didn’t corner me, he’s concerned about his best friend. After what I did, it’s understandable.” Cam says.

He slumps back on the mattress, tossing his arm over his eyes. “I’m not seventeen anymore, I don’t need him fighting my battles.”

She wants to roll her eyes at his overdramatics, especially because she remembers him at seventeen. But instead she just shuffles down the bed and lays beside him.

“We have a battle to fight?” she asks lightly.

Nicholas lifts his arm and turns on his side to look at her. She wants to look away, escape his gaze, but she can’t. And when he reaches over and curls his hand around the edge of her jaw, she feels tears well in her eyes for some reason.

“I miss you,” he whispers, and she feels herself crumbling. “You’re right here and I still miss you.”

Biting her bottom lip, Cam scoots a little closer to him. He immediately wraps his arm around her, pulling her in as close as he possibly can. They don’t say anything else, not for a long while. The silence is heavy and sad, and as much as she wants to apologize and tell him how wrong she was, she just lets him hold her like this, as if he thinks it’s the last time he’s going to be able to do it.

They fall asleep like that, and when she wakes up, he’s the one who’s gone this time. It’s only been an hour or two. She has a brief moment of panic but she can hear the water in the bathroom and when she looks around the room she sees his cell phone still on the nightstand charging. She pulls herself up and leans back into the headboard, playing with her own phone until the bathroom door opens.

“Matt was gonna send out for takeout, do you know what you want?” Nicholas asks.

Cam looks up from her cell phone and just kind of stares at him for a moment. He’s fresh from the shower, hair hanging damply around his shoulders, droplets of water rolling down his chest. Her eyes drift down to the towel knotted haphazardly around his hips, and she blinks, realizing that he’s talking to her.

“Huh?”

The corner of his mouth tilts up, and he reaches up to push his hair out of his face. “Food, Camille.”

“Right, um, I’ll text Matt what I want. Why don’t you get dressed?”

Nicholas doesn’t laugh at her even though he looks like he wants to, and she blushes, turning her attention back to her phone. She doesn’t look up again, not until he’s sitting down beside her and pulling her phone from her hands.

“Okay, you have until the food arrives, start talking.”  When she stares at him in confusion, he rolls his eyes at her impatiently. “Why did you come here, Camille?”

“You asked me to come, you said you needed me—”

“It’s more than that, and you know it.”

Cam sits up a little, trying to put some distance between the two of them, even though she doesn’t actually want it. “How much did Noah tell you?”

“I want to hear it from you.” he says, almost desperately.

Meddling band members aside, Cam knows this is what she came here for. Twisting her hands in her lap, she avoids his gaze for a few long moments. She doesn’t know what she’s expecting to see when she finally manages to look at him again.

“I fucked up,” she starts, immediately feeling a lump form in her throat when he reaches over to wrap a hand around hers. “I shouldn’t have left. It’s a stupid excuse but I was scared. Of getting closer, of falling in love with you. But that was kind of inevitable, I guess. I was probably always gonna fall in love with you, Nicky. I thought you asking me to come here was a sign—”

“Did I have to make you an actual neon sign or something?”

Cam blinks at him. “What?”

“I feel like it would be incredibly mean of me to call you dumb, but I asked you to come here for a reason. One that I hoped was a little more obvious than just me needing you here. Have you connected the dots yet?”

She ignores the undeniable need to smother him with a pillow for his sarcasm as much as the instinctual urge to kiss him. They need to talk this out. Her leaving without talking was what put them in this position in the first place. Rubbing her thumb back and forth over the back of his hand, she sighs and shakes her head.

“Connect them for me.”

Nicholas lets out an exasperated sigh, laughing at her. “I’m in love with you too, you dummy.”

“Hey, I thought you weren’t going to call me dumb—”

She doesn’t get to finish her sentence; he grabs her and pulls her closer until she’s practically in his lap, pressing his mouth to hers and cutting off her words. Her surprise is brief, before she’s wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him back. And he doesn’t just kiss her, he devours her, as if he’s trying to make up for the months of not being able to do so. Cam can’t do much more than let him, balling her fists in his damp hair, opening her mouth beneath his.

His hands slide down around her hips, beneath the well worn cotton of her t-shirt, pressing hotly against the skin of her lower back. She feels the blunt press of his nails graze her sides as he tugs her as close as he possibly can. 

“I need to know what you want, Camille,” he says, and it comes out as desperate as Cam feels right now.

She tugs on his hair, trying to get his mouth back to hers. “Nicky—”

“You gotta tell me you’re gonna stay,” he evades her, pulling back enough so that their eyes meet. “I’m serious. Say the word now and I’ll make sure you’ve got a ticket back home if you want it.”

“Don’t you get it by now? You are my home.”

Nicholas groans and kisses her again, teeth knocking against hers briefly before he pulls back just enough and she’s pretty sure that even if she actually wanted to, she can’t leave now. The kiss is tinged with a little bit of bittersweet feeling, because she could have had this months ago, had she not been so fucking stubborn. He pulls away just as she's needing to breathe, and his mouth wanders from hers down across her jaw and over to her neck. A breathy whine escapes her and she gives his hair another demanding tug.

The knock on the hotel room door startles them both. They pull apart and stare at the door as if it’s a foreign concept to them, before Nicholas realizes that it’s their food. Cam scoots back on the bed as he gets up, and she drags her hands through her hair, trying to get her heartbeat back under control. She watches as he opens the door, and she sees Matt on the other side.

“Good afternoon, children.” he greets, holding out a bag of food. “Getting along nicely, I see.”

Even Cam can see from her spot on the bed that Nicholas’ lips were red and a little swollen. She’s sure she’s no better off. But she still wiggles her fingers at Matt in a wave, before escaping to the bathroom. It might be a little dramatic, but she pushes the door closed and leans against it, touching her bottom lip and giggling to herself. It almost doesn’t feel real, but when she looks at her disheveled appearance in the bathroom mirror, it’s obvious. She fights to keep the dopey smile off of her face. 

By the time she emerges, Matt is gone and Nicholas has straightened the bed, food containers on the duvet and one of the Star Wars movies playing on the television. They’ve been in this exact same position before back at home so many times that it makes Cam’s heart ache in a not entirely unpleasant way. Date nights, movie nights with the other guys. She didn’t think she’d have this again. She sits down beside him, automatically reaching for what she hopes is her food. She’s just opened the container of fries when Nicholas swoops in, snatching a few.

“Hey!” she laughs, twisting away with the container. “Just because I let you kiss me does not mean you get to steal my food.”

He smirks at her, popping the fries in his mouth. “Okay, Camille.”

She leans back into the space beside him, putting her attention on her food and the movie. That ache in her heart transforms to something more familiar and comfortable, and she rests her shoulder against his. This was something she’d wanted back more than anything, not just the feeling of Nicholas’ hands on her, or the taste of him on her tongue, but this. Just being here with him like this.

It’s everything.

Cam isn’t sure exactly what wakes her up. It takes a few moments for her eyes to adjust, and she can see the red glow of the cheap motel clock on the nightstand. The numbers are blinking and then she hears the wind and the rain. Lightning flashes on the other side of the curtains, and thunder rattles the windows. Another harsh storm, one that had obviously knocked out the power at one point. Tucked beneath the safety of Nicholas’ arm and the blankets, Cam reaches for her cell phone to check the time. It’s not even three yet.

But now that the storm has woken her, she’s awake in a wired way that she doesn’t think she can shake. Nicholas is still sleeping soundly behind her, so she tries to avoid tossing and turning. But she rolls over onto her side to face him, and immediately his hand tightens on her hip, pulling her closer. He lets out a sleepy noise, and Cam holds her breath. She doesn’t want to wake him, but the longer she stares at him, the more he comes into focus as the room isn’t entirely dark. Every spark of lightning illuminates him more; the way some of his hair falls over his face, the stretched out collar of his t-shirt. The dark smudges of the tattoos on his fingers where they rest curled against the pillow above his head.

She doesn’t realize at first that he’s not asleep anymore, not until the next flash of lightning when she can see him watching her sleepily.

“I missed this,” he says.

Cam brushes his hair from his face. “Me watching you like a creeper in the middle of the night?”

“You being the first thing I see when I open my eyes.”

If it weren’t the middle of the night, if it weren’t him saying it, she’d think it was ridiculously cliche. Instead, she nudges her nose against his and kisses him. What starts off as something soft and sweet quickly morphs into something else entirely. That wired feeling she has becomes nothing but need for him. Nicholas is obviously on the same page, he grasps her hips and pulls her up until she’s straddling his waist. Cam gets her fingers in his sleep mussed hair, tugging just a little bit to draw him even closer, and Nicholas groans needily. She chases the noise with her tongue, licking into his mouth with a single-minded determination. It’s almost unbearable how much she feels for him at this moment, and she tries desperately to pour it all into her kiss. 

Outside, the rain starts to die down. Finally they pull apart, foreheads resting together as they struggle to breathe. Nicholas wraps his fingers around her wrist, and he brings Cam’s hand up to his face. He kisses her palm once, then again before slowly trailing his mouth across her forearm, over ink that he put there years ago. She presses her face into his chest, trying to remember how to breathe and failing, feeling a sharp throb between her thighs. His other hand slid down her back, over the curve of her hip, pulling her body flush against his.

“Is this okay?” he asks, pressing his mouth against the curve of her shoulder, and she can feel the heat of his breath through the fabric of her shirt. “I need you to say—”

“Nicky,” she gasps, looking up at him. “I love you for asking, but this is very much okay.”

He lets out a choked off noise that she doesn’t have time to enjoy before he’s rolling them, flipping her beneath his body and tugging at her clothes insistently. She manages to get her hands between them, shoving at the waistband of his sweats with her own impatience. For a few moments it’s nothing but a tangle of limbs and clothes, and breathless laughter. She gets his sweatpants and boxers halfway down his thighs, wrapping a hand around his cock and stroking him slowly. He retaliates by leaving her shirt hanging off of one of her arms, curling over her and dips his head to suck one of her nipples into his mouth. Her back arches off the bed, her grasp on him loosening as she manages to wriggle out of the rest of her clothes, and she lets out a moan that only grows louder as he flicks his tongue back and forth.

He moves his mouth to her other breast, letting his teeth scrape over it before he lifts up to kiss her. A needy whine falls from his mouth into hers as she gives the base of his cock a squeeze, using her feet to shove his pants down the rest of the way.

“Would it be vain of me to say I missed this too?” she asks.

Nicholas lets out a breathy laugh, pulling back to look into her eyes. “Say it again.”

“What?” her brow furrows and she smirks. “That I missed your dick? Because I can tell you right now—”

His intense stare causes a fresh rush of want to hit her full force. It might have been embarrassing if not for their current situation. His hand cups her jaw, thumb pressing against her bottom lip. She fights the urge to open her mouth and pull the digit inside.

“Say that you love me, Camille.”

She thinks about uttering the words only hours ago, telling him that it was inevitable, her being in love with him, him saying that he was in love with her too. All she can think about is how much she loves him, how she needs him. How she wants him, right here and now in this motel in middle of nowhere, Wyoming in the middle of the night with the rain pouring down outside.

Cam must have said some of that out loud, because the next thing she knows his mouth is on hers again and he finally snakes a hand between her legs, touching her for the first time in months. No one else has touched her in months. His fingers are lithe and strong as they go right to her clit, circling mercilessly before dipping inside of her. She can practically hear how wet she is over her own breathing as she grasps his shoulders and arches up into his touch.

But just as soon as he’s started touching her, he pulls away. Her eyes fly open and a noise of protest falls from her mouth before he’s grabbing her hips and pulling her further down the bed beneath him. He kneels between her thighs, pulling her legs over his, and she watches avidly as he impatiently slides his cock between her folds.

“Please tell me you still have your IUD?” 

Cam nods, and that’s all the permission he needs before he sinks inside of her. She doesn’t care if he’s been with anyone else since her, he’s with her now. The second he’s fully inside, they both go still, just staring into each other’s eyes. It’s impossible for it to be true, but immediately the ache that she’s been feeling for the past few months seems to disappear. No one could ever make her feel like this. She clings to him, pulling his mouth to hers and petting her fingers through his hair.

“God, I missed being inside of you,” Nicholas murmurs, nose nudging against her cheek. “Are you okay, can I move?”

Him asking permission unravels something in her chest. “Yes, yeah, Nicky―”

His hips roll against hers and he groans softly into her shoulder. Cam presses a kiss to his forehead, urging him on. She feels his calloused fingertips caress her thigh before wrapping around her knee, hitching it further up his ribcage. Pulling out almost completely, he thrusts back in deep and hard, and she quickly braces a hand against the headboard to keep from moving up the bed.

"Don't stop," she begs, and he takes her at her word.

She doesn't want him holding back with her, and he doesn't. His soft kisses and touches betrayed the rough way he took her body, but Cam doesn't want him to stop. She holds on to him tightly, nails scoring deep marks in his arms and her teeth leaving behind imprints on his chest. One of his hands tangles with hers against the headboard, and the other stays permanently curled around the nape of her neck, his eyes never leaving hers.

“Say it again,” he demands, each word punctuated by a roll of his hips. “C’mon, Camille, be a good girl and tell me.”

He knows what it does to her, hearing him call her that, even after this much time. It takes her more than one try to get the words out, but they fall between them nonetheless and once she stops talking she can’t seem to stop, “I love you Nicholas, so much. I never stopped—”

Her words are cut off when he reaches down between their bodies to tease his fingers over her clit, and her eyes roll back in her head. His breathless laughter echoes in her ear before she feels him bury his face against her shoulder, teeth scraping over her skin. She’s going to look as if she were mauled by morning, and she can’t bring herself to care.

Cam isn’t sure which one of them comes first, too lost in the euphoric feelings coursing through her. Afterwards, they cling to each other, trying to catch their breath without straying too far from each other. Nicholas rests his head on her chest, watching her through his sweat-dampened hair. She traces her fingers over the bridge of his nose, the curve of his cheek. She knows eventually, they’ll have to move and clean up. She knows they’ll have to talk about what happens now, with a few weeks left on the tour and her having to get back home for work.

They’ll figure it out, but it doesn’t need to be right this minute.

Opening the back door of the rental car, Cam tosses her duffel in the backseat. Across the parking lot, the van meant to take the band back to the bus is idling, Jolly behind the wheel. Her flight back home arrived a lot sooner than she thought it would. She closes the door and turns to look at Nicholas, who looks more rested than when she arrived. The corner of his mouth tilts up in a smile and she can’t help but return it.

They’d come up with the most obvious solution, she’d go back home and she’d be there when he made it home from the tour. As soon as she left the airport, she’d pick up his cats from his sister’s and stay at his place. It was something he was adamant about; he wanted her there when he got home, and she wouldn’t refuse him.

Stepping closer to her, Nicholas put his hand against the car and leaned in to kiss her softly. She curled her fingers in the sides of his jacket, holding on to him until Jolly honked the horn. They break apart with a laugh, and look towards where the rest of his band is waiting.

“You gotta go,” she tugs on his jacket and pulls him in again. She pecks him on the lips again. “Drive safe.”

“You too. You’ll text me when you get in?” he asks, brushing her hair back from her face.”

“I will even send you pictures of the cats as proof of life.”

They drift back together a third time, unable to help it. She wishes she’d thought to get more time off work before coming out here but she didn’t know how this was going to go. Jolly honks the horn a second time and she hears one of them wolf whistling at them. Nicholas flips them off before reluctantly letting her go.

“I’ll see you in two weeks,” he says. “I love you.”

Cam shoves her hands into the pocket of her hoodie—Nicholas’ hoodie she’d taken long ago—so she doesn’t pull him back again. “I love you too.”

She watches him walk across the parking lot, eventually opening the passenger seat and getting in. She waves them off, and they all wave and shout goodbyes to her. It was only fourteen days, she could do that. She’d gone months without him, and now that she has him back, two weeks felt like nothing. She doesn’t get behind the wheel to leave until the van is long out of sight.

Starting the car, she drives the opposite way as it begins to rain again.

[ladydelaisol]

Day 1: Home

Okay for this year's @heropartnerweek I decided to do all writing? Is it worth it? IDK. Will this get any attention? Nope. Just wanted to try something different.

Summary: Clara and Echo talk about what they call home

Word count: 743

Note: Story stars my PMD2 Hero (Clara the Skitty) and Partner (Echo the Piplup). One of the first few lines mentions JUST graduating from the guild, mean none of the other post game stuff happens (In case the timeline's confusing)

“Hey Echo, I’ve been thinking, could I truly call this place my home?” Clara suddenly asked.

Echo had stopped organizing the items from their treasure bag when she heard her partner speak up. She looked at her with slight confusion.

“Is Sharpedo bluff not comfortable enough?” She asked back.

Echo knew the two of them had just graduated from the guild, so she wondered if the more outside cliff area was too much in comparison to the indoor area of their old room.

Clara was confused for a moment herself, until she realized how vague her question was.

“No, what I meant to say was, could I truly call this timeline my home instead of the world of the future?”

That made Echo even more confused on what the Skitty said. She has never seen Clara this conflicted on something this major, at least not to this degree.

“If you don’t mind me asking, is this a recent thought?” The Piplup shifted closer to her.

“I suppose it is.” Clara sighed as she looked over to her partner’s worried glance before continuing. “Things have been at peace these last few months ever since the planet’s paralysis was prevented in this world. So it just made me wonder about things.”

Echo nodded as if she understood. Their entire adventure up to this point had the two girls go from place to place, dungeon to dungeon. Slowing down was not an option, especially when time was in danger. But now that it was peaceful, it would make sense Clara would be thinking of who she was now.

“I know it’s probably pointless to think of it.” Clara admitted. “I already know there’s no way to even access the future, if it’s even still around. We don’t even know if the other future pokemon have all completely disappeared from time or if by some miracle they came back like me…”

Echo, once again nodded understanding her partner’s perspective on the situation.

“I mean, I wouldn’t call it pointless.” Echo spoke up given a slight optimistic tone. “If you can come back, I can’t see why the others couldn’t.”

“I suppose so.” Due to her tone, Echo could not tell if Clara believed her words or not.

“But I will say, what place you call home is really the place you choose and not where you were born. At least that’s how it feels to me…” Echo let her voice soften on that last part.

“Was it like that for you when you left your home? I know you do not talk about your family much. I only know you see Bidoof as a cousin, and that you visited often as kids, but not much.” Clara asked curiously

“Kind of…” Echo looked away for a moment as if she was uncomfortable. “It’s not like I had a horrible childhood or my parents were bad. If anything it was great…until some point, and part of me wonders if I just made it hard for my brother when we were alone…”

“You have a brother?”

“Yeah, he almost didn’t want me to leave on my own when I asked him, but he did and at least that gave me made me choose my life outside my birth home.”

“Well, I’m glad he let you leave, otherwise I would have never met you.” Clara said with a smile.

That made Echo’s heart skip a beat. She could feel her face flush from the response. “Yeah, same here…”

“I think you’re right about what makes a place a home.” Clara said with thought. “I feel if I did leave this timeline, I would miss a lot of mons. I would miss the guild, our teammates, but more importantly…you.”

That made Echo even more fluster that she was not sure how to respond.

“But I still think about the future, and I feel guilty for not remembering my time with Grovyle and the others. That’s why I’m not sure about all this.” Clara sighed.

“Well, I’ll support your decision, no matter what happens.” Echo did not like the idea of Clara ever leaving, but she would go to the ends of the earth for her. “You’ve always helped me with my issues; I think it’s fair I can do the same.”

Clara felt herself feeling almost relieved. She stood up and stretched. “I suppose we wouldn’t be a team if we did have each other’s backs. So, thank you Echo.”

“Of course."

[ikibli]

Charge Alignment

Charge alignment is probably the part of speedster nature that humans have the hardest time truly comprehending, short of the Reverse bond.

The Positive Speed Force and Negative Speed Force both reflect change, motion and meaningful freedom. The Still Force represents entropy, stasis and the inevitable meaningless end of everything, and devours Positive and Negative alike.

There can be no creation without destruction. The status quo is an ever-tilting balance, not a static ideal.

Healthy forests must burn- if they do not, when the next fire inevitably comes, it will be a thousand times worse and burn everything to the ground, sparing nothing.

In a forest prevented from burning, plants still die and new seedlings struggle to make it through the shade of their elders’ canopies until all that is left is a handful of old-growth trees who cannot be replaced even as they die one by one from unchecked pests and inevitable senescence.

Controlled burns clear away detritus, dead wood and undergrowth, while leaving the ecosystem intact and able to regrow- a phoenix’s rebirth, not a volcanic immolation. Many species of tree actually need forest fires to propagate- the heat releases seeds from their cones, and clears space for new seedlings.

The Negative is Destructive Change- tearing down the old to make way for the new. 

The Positive is Creative Change- creating and nurturing new things, modifying and adapting old things.

The Negative is no more unthinking destruction than the Positive is lifeless stasis. Both are Change, and Change is necessary.

Creation and destruction are not enemies, but lovers and friendly rivals. The forest burns, and a new one grows from its ashes. An old building crumbles, and it’s demolished to make room for new construction. An old identity is discarded, to make room for one that truly fits.

This is what the Negative whispers: Sometimes, it’s better to buy a new car or computer than try to fix the old one. Sometimes, you have to cut some content to make the promised deadline. You can’t have your cake and eat it too. Nothing is meant to last forever.

This is what the Positive whispers: Sometimes, broken things just need to be fixed. Sometimes, you just need to try your best. If you fail, at least you tried. Life moves on, and today’s setbacks are infinitesimal compared to the rest of your life.

But at their core, their message is in no way contradictory- Everything changes. Nothing is permanent, good or bad. History works in cycles, and those who refuse to change with the times are always worse off in the end.

Speedsters are instinctually driven by their charge alignment- personality and behavior subconsciously shaped by the instincts of their half of the Speed Force. 

Positive-aligned speedsters are hopeful optimists. It doesn’t matter if today is terrible- tomorrow is a new day. If something is broken, try and fix it- all it takes is a little effort and the courage to ask for help. Everyone is worth saving- all of us are good at our core.

Negative-aligned speedsters are cynical pessimists. Today is terrible, and tomorrow will only be worse unless something changes. What is broken must be torn down and replaced- not everything can be fixed. Not everything is worth saving- hard choices must be made.

This often causes problems, especially given that speedsters aren’t purely cosmic forces of the universe. The human half of their nature cannot be denied without denying half of themselves, and at their core, speedsters are human with human feelings and human biases.

Negative speedsters are often cast out of their social circles, considered mentally unstable and dangerous by nearly everyone they meet(or even just unpleasantly snappish and cynical), and find it stressful simply to exist in society due to the instincts of their charge alignment- and in humans, extended ostracization and alienation usually leads to outbursts of pointless destruction and violence fueled by despair, rage, jealousy and hatred. (But then again- a hero isn’t truly a hero without a villain to fight, are they? Fate can be cruel, and Negative speedsters would probably be the first to argue that the good of the whole world is worth a few people’s pain.)

Positive speedsters tend to have it better- society endlessly celebrates their heroes, and they tend to make friends wherever they go with kind deeds and words. Still, they have to be careful not to fall too far into their own biases, let their egos get to their head, or stretch themselves too far. (And well, Godspeed is Positive-aligned, and he’s pretty much a textbook villain.)

But regardless of charge alignment, speedsters cannot sit still. If there is anything that all speedsters can agree on, it’s that A Speedster Must Run. Stillness invites death and rot, especially for beings whose very existence is motion.

Living a peaceful life free from conflict is not something a speedster is capable of- humans might be content to run through well-worn circles of routine, but speedsters need to do something new and meaningful. If they’re not reacting, they’re acting. If there’s nothing to do, they’ll make something to do.

They’re never completely still- standing in place or sitting down, they sway or rock back and forth, bounce their feet, bob their head and tap their fingers on their thighs, and when they’re thinking, they’ll pace in circles and talk to themselves.

Even asleep, they babble, squirm, twitch and flip from side to side. The only time a speedster isn’t moving is when they’re dead or severely injured.

This tendency extends to the instincts of charge alignment. They see a corrupt institution, a loved one in distress, anything- and act without considering the long-term consequences of their intervention. Waiting is for humans- speedsters act now. The Negative tears down the old to let the Positive build up the new, and so do speedsters.

[vanyzvat]

My... Kinda controversial takes on Alien Stage Round 7 (+ Some silly theories)

(I was disappointed ☹️ Don't get me wrong, the visual storytelling, and just visuals overall were gorgeous! The song was amazing as always, too. But it just... Didn't feel like a satisfying Round at all.)

(By the way if you are genuinely angered by my take, just block me, do not interact with me)

I'm not generally a fan of stories that build up an insanely intricate world, with insanely intricate character arcs, get your hopes up, get you attached to said characters and get you rooting for them, and then the story just... Never delivers??? There's no satisfying conclusion for the characters, they just?? Die?? Like... Really? 😐

Like... What's even gonna be next?

Hyuna is back on that stage, everything she has built was for nothing,

Mizi and her are probably going to be put against one another by force.

And what are they even supposed to do? Surrender and die? Of course not, they're going to fight, and I assume Hyuna is going to die (Which would be a completely pointless death, in my honest opinion), and then Mizi is gonna have to "carry on her legacy" or some bullcrap like that 💀

Or, Mizi dies (Which would also be another pointless death), and then Hyuna is put back on the show by force, and has to fight Luka. Which I honestly feel isn't that far fetched of a theory?

The fact that Till never gave a single flying fuck about Ivan, while he died trying to keep him alive, only to just become a bad memory to Till while he continues thinking of Mizi who he has idolized to hell and back, never once getting to realize just how much she has changed since the last time he saw her.

Till died delusional. He never got to meet the real Mizi, he never got to see how this place has truly affected her. And Mizi, on the other hand, saw Till die, never once learning just how deep his borderline obsession with her was.

Alien Stage is brilliant, but seeing the direction it has taken with the latest round, it no longer feels fit for me personally.

I would've preferred an alternative ending, in which Till is able to turn things around at the sight of Mizi, and instead, Luka gets to be the one who's afraid.

I feel that would've been more satisfying than just having Luka win because... Idk because Till just had to die I guess lmaooo??

This might just be me being pessimistic, but I can't really,,, think of a way for this series to wrap up in a way that's satisfying and not just sad for the sake of being sad? Unless they truly somehow bring Till (And maybe Ivan) back like some people have been theorizing, which... I honestly doubt will happen.

The idea that Till was heavily drugged during Round 6-7, and that he was actually just being used as a pawn to bring out the rebels during Round 7, with said alleged drugs being what will somehow keep him alive does sound cool in theory, but I feel that's just the Fandom being optimistic like with the "Ivan is alive" theories.

I feel Hyuna will be forced to have the long lost ROUND 4 with Luka, after having to battle Mizi.

I truly, truly hope that you are all by some miracle right about Till (And maybe Ivan, but I genuinely doubt it) being alive, and that somehow, Alien Stage will manage to subvert my expectations.

Hopefully, when the series concludes I'll be able to look back on this and laugh due to how wrong I was, and I'll say that Alien Stage is truly peak

[kalinara]

So, I saw someone else's post pointing out the weird inconsistency with the way the Uncanny X-Team and the regular X-Team interact. How it starts out fairly pleasant but then, kind of out of the blue, the Uncanny team starts acting really hostile toward Scott and his team.

(Including a really nasty comment from Logan, and it's like, dude, weren't you fucking on the Moon, not that long ago?)

Meanwhile, on Scott's end of things, he's basically being polite, civil, and trying to adjust his plans to accommodate them.

I don't disagree with that post at all, but I didn't want to hijack it with my own thoughts, so this is my little bit of meta.

I admit, I've not caught up on a lot of the Krakoa stuff yet, but I definitely agree that this is inconsistent with the dynamics that I saw in those issues.

But it is definitely consistent with everything BEFORE Krakoa. And bizarrely, that makes me a bit optimistic. I remember, a long time ago, writing this rant about how consistently inconsistent the in universe treatment of Scott Summers was prior to his death. How everyone, under the pen of multiple authors, in multiple lines, seemed to fairly consistently believe the worst of him when his behavior would be completely opposite to their expectation.

I said then that it really did seem like it's building somewhere. And I'm cautiously thinking that it might still be. Rosenberg's X-Men, which I enjoyed very much despite its general pre-Krakoa bleakness, started out with Scott and Logan in a surprisingly okay place but things seemed to fall apart pretty dramatically and for not a lot of reason.

And honestly, I still can't quite get over Jono basically telling Scott that he hated him while he died. That was intense and singularly horrible.

But then everyone reunited and we pretty much got Krakoa right after that, and everything was different and good and bad and fucked up in all sorts of brand new ways. And I figured, okay, I was wrong, it really wasn't going anywhere. It was just weirdness that, if it ever had meant something, doesn't apply now.

But we're back to basics. We're back to the old patterns. We're back to Wolverine and whatever team represents the school and the "Xavier style" of mutant ideology against Scott's black ops "Magneto style" aggressive protection. And again, we have a Scott who doesn't seem to buy into that conflict while everyone around him does.

I had a theory briefly that the sheer irrational reaction of everyone around him was because Scott, as the Phoenix, right after killing Xavier, somehow mind-whammied the world to feel exactly what he did: a deep love and idealization for Charles Xavier that, while occasionally disappointed, never truly faltered, and a deep and complete loathing of one Scott Summers.

I still think that theory works, and might well explain why no one seems to remember that they were pretty fucking mad at Xavier at the end of the Krakoa stuff (with Logan actually trying to kill him.)

The other theory I have is simpler though, which is that Scott ends up being the focal point for all of his fellows grief, despair, and helpless, pointless anger because they think he can handle it.

If Charles Xavier is the spirit of the Dream, then Scott Summers is the embodiment of the X-Men. (I think there's even a point in one of the Captain Krakoa issues where we're told that "I am the X-Men" was basically his campaign speech at one of the Hellfire Galas). And as such, he's always going to be there: strong, implacable, steadfast and invulnerable to whatever they send his way.

And that leads to something really interesting, because as we've seen in X-Men #3. He's NOT. And that's not really surprising, it's not like Scott has ever been a paragon of good mental health. But the panic attack is new. And assuming that it's actually a panic attack and not some indicator of possession or powers going out of control or something, then it's a vulnerability that he might not be able to hide.

And that makes me think we might, FINALLY, see an actual resolution to this decades long thread.

And if not, well, if I didn't enjoy watching Scott Summers suffer, I wouldn't be reading X-Men comics.

(Also, Jean's actually alive now. She's in space at the moment, IIRC, but I really don't think she's going to tolerate this bullshit for too much longer, if and when she finally notices it happening.)

[kiruamon]

Spring through the Seasons AU - From winter back to spring

Next part of the AU. Pretty much Y/N having found a new companion in Moon. And them doing some backtracking through Moon's and Y/N's own home territory. (Like the times before: Sketches are found in between the text. Just saying in case that some of you are only here for the art and not the story which is also completely fine.)

_

The night was over. And with it, the raging of the snowstorm. Once again, the landscape lay untouched before your eyes as you step out of the cave into the bright light of the morning sun allowing your eyes to adjust to the brilliant white of the snow. Behind you, the snow crunches under Moon's boots as he walks to your side. Your gaze remains fixed straight ahead, roaming over the landscape. "Have you thought about what you want to do now?" you hear him ask with his calm voice. You realize that he wants to know whether he should lead you to the border in the north despite his warning or not. Of course you would like to get to your destination as quickly as possible, but… what's it worth putting yourself in pointless danger when there could be another way? "I… will take your advice to heart and go back to my home. After that, I'll try to travel further east. Maybe I'll find a way there," you answer him with a wry smile. Despite the minor setback, you haven't given up yet. You notice how the three wolves step out of the cave. They shake themselves under the rays of the sun as if to drive the last remnants of drowsiness from their bones. Then they pass the two of you, casting only a quick glance back at you before running off into the vastness of the plain and through the freshly fallen snow. You look after them with a smile, hoping to see them again one day.

Moon remains silent. And you simply allow yourself to lose yourself for a while in this moment. The mixture of cold air and warm sunbeams on your skin feels vitalizing. It's as if your senses are hyper-aware of everything, like the sound of the piled-up snow collapsing and falling to the ground from the heavy, low-hanging branches. Even standing here side by side with someone you feel connected to in a way you can't quite put into words yet. But for how much longer? What will become of Moon when you take your way home? "I will accompany you," he suddenly says, as if he has managed to read your thoughts. You look up and blink at him in surprise. "You… are coming with me?" "Someone has to make sure nothing happens to you." There is a reserved lightheartedness in his voice as he utters these words. "I-I can definitely take care of myself," you say, puffing out your cheeks a little, but honestly you're more than happy to hear his words and your vines bob up and down in a treacherously cheerful manner as you try not to grin too much. Moon seems to notice the little motion that betrays the tone of your voice, as the corners of his mouth twitch slightly upwards. "I'd still be more at ease if I knew you wouldn't freeze into an ice pillar while you try to get back home on your own." You giggle a little at his jest, which he says half-joking and half-serious. "Thanks Moon," you appreciate his offer. Very much actually. Somehow you had even hoped that you wouldn't have to say goodbye to each other so soon. To find Moon and be able to talk to him had made you realize how lonely your previous life had been, even though you had never thought of it that way before. "Do you know which way we have to go? Honestly, after that… Snowstorm? That's what you called it, right?" He nods with amusement at you. Okay. Good. Snowstorm. "Well, I'm afraid I don't really have a clue where we are after yesterday."

He laughs softly. "I know where we are. And also the direction we need to go," his voice sounds kind-hearted as he says this. The feeling of being able to rely on someone is reassuring and makes you feel more optimistic about your upcoming journey.

_

"Ooooh!" You pause as you notice the icicles sparkling in the sunlight on the branch of a tree. They glisten almost like the clear water of the lake when the rays of the midday sun dance across the small ripples. "They look even prettier in the sunlight." "Is this really your first time seeing something like this?" "Mhm. There's nothing like this where I come from. No snow and no ice either." Maybe that's why you find it so hard to get tired of looking at all these things. Moon certainly doesn't seem to mind. He patiently answers all your questions as you walk through his kingdom together. You were surprised to learn that ice was just another form of water. That it froze due to the cold in these lands and sometimes melted on days when the sun shone a little warmer than usual. Thaw, which could make the snow become more soggy. But at the moment it was more powdery, like the fine dust of flowers. It was simply gorgeous. And being able to look at these things together with Moon instead of doing so alone only made the whole experience more exciting. "When we reach the border and my home, there's so much I have to show you!" you say with a smile as you turn your gaze away from the icicles to look at him. You can't wait. Will he like your home? Will you be able to surprise him as much as he did with all his amazing knowledge of this icy land? It… would just be nice to make him smile more. Not to mention how much you would like to repay him for his help. He tilts his head a little and the hint of a smile steals its way into his uniquely colored eyes. His gaze rests gently and in an almost warm way on you as he replies: "I'm looking forward to it."

The world is changing. The masses of snow become more shallow. The further you walk, the less your steps sink into the snow. The more green blades of grass emerge from underneath it until they cover the whole ground in front of you. You have reached the border to your homeland. "We're here," you shout cheerfully, stepping with glee out of the cold masses of snow and onto the meadow in front of you. You turn and look at Moon, who has paused. He looks at the unfamiliar landscape before him as if he were frozen into ice.

A new world opened up before him. Completely different from the icy wilds of his realm. The cold beauty that snow and ice brought with them was familiar to him. The sparkle of ice in the sunlight. The glistening frost that clung to rocks or the bark of trees. Fir trees whose branches bent under the weight of the snow.

But this… This ocean of green blades of grass covering the ground is unlike anything he had ever seen before. The mild spring breeze makes the grass bob up and down playfully as if it was fondly ruffling the fur of an animal. Colorful flowers whose names he didn't know brought even more color to the blossoming landscape with their vibrant petals. The bushes and trees are no longer bare, frozen constructs and instead unfurl delicate sprouts and leaves that sway in the wind. Even the wind is different here. He can feel it blowing mildly and gentle under his hood and against his face. For a while, he simply stays still as he takes in the sight of your homeland and tries to understand what he is feeling.

The way Moon stands there with his eyes wide open, looking at the landscape in front of him, brings a small smile to your face. Yes, you felt the same way when you reached the border of your realms for the first time. But… unlike you, Moon is not alone at this foreign place. Just as he was there for you in his realm, you will now be there for him. To be his guide. "Moon? Are you coming?" "…" "Yes… Yes, I'm coming." Your voice grounds him. Gives him something familiar to hold on to in a world that is so completely different from what he has known so far. With his back to his own realm and this strange landscape in front of him, he slowly understands how you must have felt when you stood in this place and decided to move on. He takes a deep breath as he slowly lifts his boots and places them on the green-covered ground. Yes, he will follow you. He wants to join you on this journey. The feeling being accompanied by a silent wish that your shared time will last a little longer. It stays hidden deep in his heart as he dares not to express it out loud to you. Because… last night he wasn't completely honest with you.

It wasn't that he had lied to you. The cliff, the unstable weather near the border of the realm you want to visit, it was all very real. The fact that he didn't know where the passage lay that the animals used was also true. But… the passage was not the only way that would have taken you to your destination. It would have been impossible for you alone, but with his help you could have reached your destination quickly and fairly easy. And yet he had decided against telling you about it. Because… as incomprehensible as it was to him, he didn't wanted to say goodbye to you just yet.

He just wanted to spend a little more time with you. To be by your side and learn what the world looked like through your eyes. A little detour would certainly not hurt anyone. And even if the path was blocked at one of the other borders, he would make sure to bring you safely to your destination in his own way.

_ Side by side, you have left the border between your two territories behind you. All signs of snow and frost are gone. The trees and plants flourish in the gentle rays of sunlight. Bathing in its warm embrace. The further you travel along, the more the landscape starts to blossom. Young shrubs with green branches and the first delicate leaves nestle in the shade of the trees, which do not yet have their full crowns of leaves.

Instead, some of them bear buds that are on the verge of opening. "Moon! Look! The blossoms over there look almost like snow, don't they?" You grab his hand without thinking about it. You can feel his cold fingertips on your warm skin, but you don't let go and instead lead him with eager and excited steps to a large tree in the middle of the meadow. Apart from a few closed buds, its branches are covered over and over in delicate white blossoms. The wind rustles gently through the branches of the old cherry tree. And scattered petals fall from it to the ground like the snowflakes you saw in Moon's realm. "It looks so nice, doesn't it?" You turn to him with a broad smile and see him gazing upwards with a mixture of fascination and wonder.

He wasn't sure what took his breath away more. Whether it was the warmth of your touch that made his heart beat so fast or the sight of the white flowers floating to the ground like snowflakes. Both seemed to make his heart go faster in his chest. The way you stand in front of him. Beaming with joy and surrounded by the falling blossoms… He can't name the feeling it evokes in him. All he knows is that he doesn't dislike it. That it makes him want to see this endearing little smile of yours even more often.

"Yes, it's really… beautiful," you hear Moon say as his multi-colored eyes rest on you with an almost tender expression. You even think you can hear a little laugh lurking in his voice. He probably thinks you're a bit childish because you're so easily excited. But you don't mind. After all, you finally have the chance to share all these great things with someone. So how could you not feel so happy? Therefore, you don't even try to keep the smile off your face. Gently, you let go of Moon's hand and hold your hands out in front of you, both palms facing up. "Come on, let's see which of us catches one faster," you suggest in a playful mood. This time you're quite sure you heard a small chuckle coming from Moon. "A challenge… Well, in that case I can hardly refuse."

_ "So, what do you think? Did you like what you've seen so far?" It did. More than you probably would realize. Your eyes may still be resting on the flowers swaying in the wind around you. But Moon's eyes, on the other hand, are completely on you. Attracted by the joyful sparkle in them that always appears as soon as you see something you love with all your heart. "This land is truly unlike anything I've ever seen. Unique and full of wonders … just like the one who inhabits it… ", Moon's words are so quiet towards the end that you can't really make out the last part of it. But you are still overjoyed to hear that the place you call your home has become so dear to him as well.

-

Bonus that isn't part of the main story (or at least this won't happen until after meeting Sun and Eclipse):

As careful as always when he touches you, Moon takes your hands in his. Cold and warmth meet each other in that moment and send a tingling sensation through both of your skin. His fingertips are cool, while yours are warm. And yet you can see the warmth in his eyes as soon as his gaze rests on you. Just like now. "Moon? What are-" "Let's dance." Dance? Your cheeks suddenly feel like they're burning with heat, and it continues to spread to the tips of your ears like a wildfire. Some of the little buds on your vines begin to blossom as they move closer to Moon, as if he were the sun they crave for its soothing warmth. He laughs softly. Your reaction only seems to delight him more. "There's no need to be so nervous, little Snowflake." You should be feeling cold to be so close to him, but somehow Moon manages it that you only feel warmer and warmer. "Do you trust me?" he asks in a hushed voice. You already know the answer to this question. "Yes. I trust you." With all your heart. You know you're in good hands with him. "Then let us have some fun," he says with such a tender smile. A smile so gentle that it makes your heart flutter so excitedly in your chest as if it were a little fledgling taking its first flight. Your fingers clasp around Moon's a little more and you allow him to lead you. Your first dance together may be awkward, the steps clumsy and wobbly, but neither of you cares. Not as long as you have each other. Another cherished memory that you will keep in your heart forever.

TBC

[kooki914]

What are some ideas you have for how CH3 is gonna play out?

I'm really torn on how to answer this ask, because there's a microscopically thin line between "what I want" and "what I expect", and I've already wholly disappointed myself with my expectations for chapter 2 and I really want to avoid repeating that mistake. To put into perspective, I had literally 0 concrete expectations for chapter 2, and I was invigorated by the trailer like nothing else, and I STILL came out disappointed because the direction of the story was, on some guttural level, not what I had thought it'd be. I never verbalised those ideas, but they were there, and they ended up making me inconsolably hate chapter 2 for a very, VERY long time. And I am still salty. And I'm trying so, SO hard to keep my slate blank for future chapters to avoid those same emotional crashes.

My most honest expectations for chapter 3 are: a fun adventure, some bonding between the kids, and a few less loose threads. That's it.

If I'm being optimistic, I'd also say I expect some deeper exploration/commentary on Toriel's character, through the lens of someone who she literally raised their entire life. I WANT to know more about Toriel and Kris' family dynamic, past what we've seen in the first two chapters, and I want there to be some kind of acknowledgement that her actions, while well-meaning and caring towards Kris, still had negative side effects, especially on the enabling side of things. But, again, I'm phrasing that as optimistic, because if I say that I FULLY expect that and it doesn't happen, I'm going to implode all over again.

The things I WANT to happen in chapter 3 are a whole different ballpark, and like with every other post asking me about full chapter commentary I have to shoutout my Kingdomrune AU where it's literally everything I personally want out of Deltarune. (I know the blog is empty I'll expand on it soon.) The thing is, I really, REALLY want Asgore to be part of chapter 3's dark world, not just as a foil to Toriel but also as a missing piece to the general commentary I want the chapter to make about the Dreemurr household. His absence being both necessary, felt, and also devastating. His clinginess being a detriment to everyone's emotional energy, but that attitude of sticking his nose where it doesn't belong being what Kris NEEDS as a depressed kid with nearly 0 motivation for anything. Where Toriel is "live and let live", Asgore is "we can work on it together", and that's both what makes them a good team, but also incompatible in marriage. It's two opposing approaches to raising kids that come in handy in different contexts, while neither gets to fully shine because of the absence of the other - kind of like how the light world is dull without darkness, and the dark world is pointless without light. Like, there's so much to unpack there!!!! There's so much you can do with, not just Asgore in the dark world, but Kris' role as a leader being TESTED by their parents and their failed marriege AND ALSO possibly by Ralsei himself?

Kris opening a fountain as an attempted act of heroism, failing to garner any positive effects from that endeavour and ALSO hurting one of their most loyal friends in the process?? This chapter has the potential to be Kris' "darkest hour", a moment when they lose all connection and all will to go on, because they end up isolated from everyone. Their parents are physically present but emotionally absent (as always), Ralsei who once believed in them finds out about some Cruicial Choice Kris made and LEAVES them because of it (abandonment issues activated), and even if it's brief it still makes the world feel like it's ending for Kris because it reminds them so much of ever other time they've blamed themselves for people leaving (possibly tying into the December mystery?) How do they deal with this? DO they deal with this? Do they take after their parents and sweep it under the rug for the greater good, OR do they let themselves grieve and let go in order to push forward with vigor in their own heart not fueled by the relationships they've had and lost? (Ahem, thief of breath arc, ahem)

And, god, Susie as a foil to the entire situation, not just in her lack of investment the way Ralsei is invested, or even in the way KRIS is invested, but through her not really knowing the Dreemurr household situation AT ALL and metaphorically holding Kris' hand through a sort of confused comradery. Like "God Kris your family's really weird, but at least YOU came out the least deranged." Their friendship being strengthened because Susie chooses to protect them from themselves even in their darkest hour. Even when they essentially planned to hold her hostage in their house until they worked through their issues, Susie's able to see it as the cry for help it is because SHE would've done the same thing in their shoes. They get each other like no-one else (and hopefully their prior relationship of bully and bullied is addressed for the dual self-destruction cycle it was for both of them).

Basically, I want a sitcom episode gone horribly, terribly wrong. Just EVERYTHING up in flames. And nothing is fixed by the end, but a path to healing is clear.

What I expect is the story being something I can't predict and focusing on things I might not care about NEARLY as much, but will grow to somewhat appreciate with time. Hopefully.

And in conclusion I believe Ralsei should go feral.