#its not ok to make someone feel bad about either decision

[3liza]

i have some middle-aged advice for anyone whos interested on here, and its this: if you had anyone in your life, especially an older person like a teacher or mentor or parent or sibling or aunt or whatever, ever do aything or say anything to you that you found especially helpful, it is absolutely worth the effort it takes to track them down and tell them. some of my biggest feelings of relief and deepest feelings of regret are about either doing or not doing this before someone died or i lost track of them. im going to try to track down some of my primary and middle school teachers to do this today actually.

theres a few reasons for doing this: one is just for your own sake, so you dont feel bad later that you never did it. the second reason is for the sake of the second person, so they can feel good about their choices. and the third reason is so the second person knows they made the right decision and may be encouraged by your feedback to make that decision again for someone else, so you're in a sense paying it forward in case the person who helped you wasnt sure about continuing to help others that way. because maybe they werent sure if it worked, or if you were a little kid when they were your teacher, they dont know if their advice benefitted you later or maybe they even got in trouble for taking a chance to do something on your behalf, and so on

people die a lot, and usually unexpectedly, and thats normal and ok. but it makes the loss a lot easier for everyone involved if these types of communications happen before then.

[sarahgrows]

I didn't think I wanted kids but when I got pregnant I knew that was what was meant for me (I'm pro choice). I just instantly felt that connection and I understand not everyone does. I am so thankful every single day that I have my son. I love him more than anything; the world looks so different since he was born. I am also healing my own inner child by ensuring his is as healthy as I can successfully manage ❤️ Being a mom is genuinely fun with River.

i’m doing research reblog this and tell me if you want kids or not

[tumblingxelian]

Crossposting from SV:

https://forums.sufficientvelocity.com/threads/iwiw-rwby.125050/post-32676154

Regarding the expectation of perfection, yeah, I don't think the team expected it. The one who could be arguably said to have put the most "pressure" on Ruby is Blake as we saw in V8, but having faith in someone isn't the same as demanding perfection. & Blake showed she was fine stepping up and trying to help or support Ruby when she needed it.

The others applied even less pressure, at least knowingly, but none of them are aware of how Ruby had internalized Ozpin's lesson (& from what I know of Coco Second Semester does not make his lessons better)

But Ruby definitely took a lot of these things to heart in a way likely never intended. & more to the point that likely wouldn't be nearly as bad if not for the trauma conga-line the last volumes have been.

For instance in V8 Ruby does seem briefly hurt by Yang noting that following her lead hasn't worked out, but Yang's language is still rather casual, this isn't her trying to deliver some cutting barb to wound Ruby's pride. & given their reunion in V8 it didn't have a lasting impact... Up until V9 landed because with everything that went wrong, suddenly those words pack a lot more sting.

In regards to Yang & Ruby in particular, one thing I find interesting is that in early volumes, even after Ozpin's leader talk Ruby was more comfortable showing uncertainty, discomfort, fragility and the like.

Especially around Yang. She was sulking in V2 about Blake not coming to the dance and feeling overtly helpless, she was fine with being uncertain about her decision to reveal the WF's location to Ozpin & co, also in V2.

But more integrally, in Volume 3, after everything had gone to hell what is the first thing Ruby did once she could move under her own power?

Was it go to her dad for comfort? Seek Qrow for advice? nope, those two came to her, with Tai mostly being used for an intel update and Qrow being prodded for info, and only seeing a flash of vulnerability.

The person Ruby went to was Yang, Yang who she was surprised to find wasn't in a good head-space, and who when Ruby asked what to do couldn't answer her, seemingly leaving Ruby unsure of what to do. In essence, there have been periods where Ruby also expected others to be more sturdy than they could otherwise be expected to be. This isn't a jab, just an observation.

More integrally however, in V4 we see Ruby really hit hard on the repressing.

Oh she did it before, the fact she's modelled her entire persona after her missing mother and was raised by a girl two years her senior should already make it clear she's gonna have some issues. But it becomes a lot more overt with her being all smiles around JNPR but sad when unseen until she's hitting a breaking point. One that is... Sort of countered though of questionable help by being told she's inspiring.

The time we really see it break in in Volume 5 when Yang & Ruby reunited, she cries, she fumbles her words, she gets a damn hug.

But then, the next day, she sees that Yang is not nearly as recovered as she's trying to act. When Yang is upset & removes herself from the situation to calm down and mourn silently, its Weiss who has to help her out of it, because Ruby has no idea what to do.

That's not just her sister in there, its the girl who raised her, & this stuff is not Ruby's forte, but more integrally, Yang is the one who has always been 'all right', the one who Ruby could turn to whenever she needed and who she never had to worry about in combat.

But she's not OK the one person Ruby could always rely on is more fragile than Ruby ever realized, and so clearly, Ruby can't go to Yang with her problems either.

& thus closes her final person to really, properly, well and truly reach out to.

& the thing is Yang would have no idea this is happening!

She didn't hear Ozpin's speech, or Ruby re-phrasing it. She wasn't present when Ruby was really building her walls in V4, and any that existed before that will have been interwoven with Yang's own issues and thus be something she deemed as normal the same way Ruby deemed Yang's self sacrificing penchant as normal.

Put simply, Yang isn't aware that Ruby's mental image of her has shifted and so is not aware that Ruby no longer sees her as someone viable to reach out to.

None of which is helped by the fact Yang canonically admires Ruby and so is prone to see the best, strongest, most idealized side of her, and so like Ruby would need to be told Ruby needs help before keying into it.

Both these girls are very traumatized and damaged and they care about each other so god damn much, but also just cannot wholly see one another.

Its agony, I love it.

[possumteeths]

One thing about veilguard that bums me out is that this is the very first bioware game that I dont feel any desire to play again. All of the decisions made in the game either dont matter or are made for you so there’s no wondering like “what wouldve happened if I did this instead of that?” There’s so many moments in the game where it felt as if I should really debate what option to pick, only to realize through playing more that decisions really don’t matter. So all decisions made in later stages of the game just kinda feel meaningless.

Everything is set up so one dimensionally that the replay value is unfortunately very low. Theres very few ways to play things differently. I was incredibly disappointed that you do not have the option to kill Lucanis’s shitty cousin. You dont even get any option at ALL over what to do with him. It doesnt matter what you do with the bald warden dude, it doesnt matter whether or not you chose to kill that rando mayor… and the list goes on.

I used replay bioware games just to get different DIALOGUE! This game had very little in terms of meaningful dialogue! Much of the dialogue between characters feels so flat or unrelated to the plot. Character conflict is extremely forced so replaying the game wouldn’t necessarily give you anything new to chew on. Its frustrating that Rook is designated as the group’s therapist, but is often completely sidelined by everyone and everything going on! I romanced Lucanis and he still was hella flirting with Neve which made the romance route feel like a complete afterthought.

Approval ratings dont matter at all, theres genuinely nothing that changes besides your own insight to the different characters worldviews. If someone disliked something, you dont get different dialogue or attitude or nuffin! What does hardening even do in DAV? Neve or Lucanis being hardened has no impact on anything at all besides some rando skill buffs. I thought maybe Harding or Davrin’s endgame sacrifice wouldve meant something more if you had some way of hardening them.

It felt just kind of random to kill off one of your companions in the endgame. Especially when you’ve played through the entire game making choices that were ultimately meaningless. The choice of who dies in the endgame feels just as meaningless as everything else because you the player have spent the entire game realizing that approval ratings dont matter, plot choices dont matter, characterization choices dont matter etc. So if they want to do something as heavy hitting as killing off a main character, wouldnt it have made more sense to build it up in a way that there would be SOME emotional impact? If you were able to harden Davrin or Harding, then killing them wouldve hit harder dang it! Killing off characters feels just cheap when youre overly aware that nothing matters.

No matter your choices in this game, its still going to play the exact same every time with very little deviation. Its almost like playing a telltale game or something. The plot is pathed out for you, your choices are superfluous, your romance options are as noteworthy as skyrim’s “put on a necklace, okie doke now you’re married.”

The game itself isnt bad, but it reminds me of a mass market paperback book. The kinds that come out monthly. You know exactly what the plot is gonna be, you know there’s gonna be a cast of characters, you know theres gonna be bad guys and good guys.., and then you finish the book thinking “Yup that was ok!” Then you shelve it and never look at it again because its one amongst 17492820102 others in the genre. To use another metaphor, this game is buttered toast, it feels like something youve had before, its familiar, it tastes good… but thats it. Its just bread and butter, and theres no sense dressing it up or toasting the bread more or less because at the end of the day… its still toast.

[ceceisbeingsilly]

ok hi i never post but i need to rant about ms caitlyn kiramman.

so im going to start off with, yes i am a caitlyn defender. (SPOILERS AHEAD FOR SEASON 2!)

i hate seeing how shes constantly hated on for her actions and yet a lot of those actions stemmed from ambessa feeding her the ideas, using caitlyn's hatred for jinx. caitlyn was also never allowed to properly grieve over the death of her mother either which also plays a huge factor in her choices and her mental state.

notice the line: "she inked poison in you ear and you just ate it"

her reaction wasnt defensive, it was more of a "i know what i did and it eats me up inside" which means a lot of her decisions she made across the past months shes been commander she hasnt been proud of or regrets entirely.

and now here is my analysis/rant:

episodes 5 + 6 of act 2:

when we see her interrogate singed, sure she did most of it, but ambessa was the one who asked about vander (warwick) and how to track him. yes, caitlyn was mad. she lost a lot of her guards and was probably mad knowing jinx was connected to it somehow.

but episode 6 is where i REALLY wanna dig in. when they arrive at the village, caitlyn's facial expressions made me cringe HARD. she looked uncomfortable and unsure. her face really says it all in this season, her eyes kept flickering, like she was nervous. nervous, uncomfortable, and unsure about what you ask? im not that sure. her feelings about zaun and storming somewhere where there is finally peace to find warwick could be the reason, but im not entirely sure.

then her interaction with vi: "she folded at cupcake" no i think she folded knowing that beast was vi's father AND/OR she folded seeing how vi has changed so much, clearly worried. telling vi the plan, betraying ambessa, finally doing something she felt was right for the girl she loves without... AMBESSA BREATHING DOWN HER NECK! i noticed that whenever we see caitlyn make most of her not so great decisions, its with ambessa or at the influence of ambessa.

you can also hear how harsher she gets when she walks into ambessa's tent, telling her they found vi. afterwards, knowing what happened and the plan and whatever, her whole harshness could've been a facade to convince ambessa the entire time she was commander. to convince ambessa how so? to convince her she was right for the role.

episode 8 of act 2:

okay. i am going to try really hard here. vi and caitlyn's argument really made me emotional. both of them were clearly mad, vi mad at caitlyn for doing what she did, and caitlyn at herself. going back to the line above, "she inked poison in your ear and you just ate it." caitlyn throwing the boat and her "i know" broke my heart. she knows what she did, and clearly isnt proud of it. i already said what i wanted to say above about this sooo...

the sesbian lex scene... im just gonna keep this short n sweet. if caitlyn didnt care about her and vi's relationship, SHE WOULDNT HAVE MENTIONED SLEEPING WITH SOMEONE ELSE! just saying...

episode 9...

i have nothing for this episode like analysis wise but i love vi and caitlyn. every relationship has its ups and downs, and i think their relationship had a huge down but like what silco said to ekko in the au, you have to learn to forgive.

updated words n edits/summary?:

im not saying what caitlyn did wasnt bad, it was bad trust me. it made me cringe most of the time rewatching. but i feel a lot of people think it was her and her alone making those decisions when ambessa was right there. ambessa used a lot of "we will do this" or "how do we do this" referring to caitlyn. like "we will avenge your mother" in episode 3 (if im wrong correct me please) or "how do we find this beast". im done now, caitlyn isnt perfect and her actions were a bit... yikes. but now my take on why she did it and how she feels about it is out there and for people to take into consideration if they want too :)

i may delete this later. (edited at 5:01 am because i wrote this at like 9 pm and reread it now realizing i forgot some points)

[ghostymarni]

skeleton crew season 1 finale questions and theories under the cut:

10/10 I loved it I was yelling while standing in front of the screen holding my face the whole time

OK, I’m gonna stay up front. I have been purposely avoiding lots of conversation about this because I wanted to see where the show was gonna take it. So if I’m saying something that was clearly obvious to someone else I’m open to hear things that I missed or different theories. I also have no one in person to discuss this with so it’s all being thrown up here:

I’m extremely intrigued about that lightsaber and who it belong to. I know realistically this is something that we most likely will never find out, but I want to know who it was and how was it obtained. It was in pristine condition. It wasn’t battle worn, it wasn’t broken. It was looking practically new, which means that either it was taken from a Jedi as a trophy or it was found. As a high/old republic gold and white silver colors, that saber was old. It could have totally be silver and black placing it slightly before/IN the clone wars, but its colors are so distinct!!

Similar to how cal kestis had discovered the whole underground OG Jedi force users infrastructure on Koboh. Along with the left over back up plan of the Jedi order if eveything fails. (Guys I’m still playing the game there’s more to it I’m sure)

So back to the “now” Jod not only being smart, but minimal with his force control was giving me a lot of different vibes. So he was found by a Jedi and trained. Idk why but I was picking up betrayed by the Jedi, similar to Ahsoka, or falling away from the Jedi ways for personal gain or survival. (After having to watch his master fall). I am also aware that could just be a regular force sensitive person that was trained in ways of the Jedi within his own survival. But I keep feeling like there’s more than that? I might be grasping at more than what’s there, I’m sure.

I don’t see him as sith considering how he’s reacted with the kids this whole season. It was giving maul and Ezra vibes, but had less of mauls “join my side” and more of “I just need you to do as i say”. After the finale and the end credits, you can see he was a “Padawan” and had been trained. It makes me wonder if his former master knew quigon because of the quote he said, or if it was a more popular quote within the Jedi than we’ve been informed. Sort of like the “live laugh love” quote of the Jedi.

Even coming up against a Sith in battle. From the end credits, I don’t see him as sith. Just a survivor.

I’m furious (because cliff hanger) that they left Jod in an open window without telling us what happened. Which I hope leads to a second season, but there was no hint of his standpoint, not even attribute to the original long John Silver of getting away with some sort of credit.

I noticed the slight shift in his facial expression when he was called out, and it was giving a different personality than the one he was trying to portray. Almost like Wim was talking to Jod’s former padawn self. But Jod, giving the true “long John silver vibes” of “wim you’re a good kid, I’ve made bad decisions and I’m watching my defeat happen in real time”.

What instantly boggled my mind was how long has at-attin not only started, but how long has it actually been running. Regardless of it having Old Republic credits and being a perfect time capsule up until now; the supervisor being a droid wasn’t unexpected. With a perfect society like that, I expected a droid to be running it. It’s giving “going to mars to start a new population” vibe. But for the sake of the republics money creation’s secret bank planet.

the fact that the planet had been hidden for so long, BUT the supervisor was receiving active information of what was going on from the Galactic Republic up until ORDER 66. The supervisor calling out that Jedi were the enemy makes me highly confused of the planets loyalties. If the planet was creating Republic credits and they had not received an adversary to pick them up, but the supervisor received an update of order 66???

When was the last time the supervisor had received contact from outside the planet? And who was sending them??

Was the supervisor aware of the clone wars? was it aware of all the political changes up until the first galactic empire was established?? I understand that the droid was programmed to keep the planet running, which makes me wonder at-ackran, if the people of the planet fell into survival and “war” because of the pirate that had infiltrated the planet and destroyed the supervisor the same way Jod did for at-attan.

There’s more than enough information to hint at the timeline, which is helpful to the storytelling. But dropping the hint that this planet was aware of order 66 makes me wonder if someone loyal to the republic purposely cut off all ties to the planet for safety the moment order 66 was established. It had to be someone high to dictate a communication with a planet like that.

So if the order had been received galaxy wide, but that’s the last set of communication did someone willingly cut that tie to preserve that old republic credit safety or was there more to the story that we didn’t know because Jod shut down the supervisor?

I was genuinely yelling at my screen the later half of the finale.There’s notes I’m sure I missed this is purely an after the episode word vomit because I’m grasping for more details I’ll probably never receive.

[hollybell51]

In this timeline

Navigation

Trevor Holden (0115) x Philip Pearson (3326)

Travelers (2016)

Word count: 11.5K

Summary: Philip has made some bad decisions. This isn't one of them.

Content: Smut, hurt/comfort, bit of fluff (I guess?), Philip is horrendously down bad, Trevor is too, making out, hickeys, hand jobs, blow jobs, anal, fingering, dirty talk (like a tiny bit dw), Trevor calls Philip "man" during sex, top Trevor/bottom Philip in an attempt to avoid Trevor's accidental twinkification (I fear this may have backfired), (there are honestly switchy moments too so idk if I'd label it as anything other than a healthy flexible dynamic), Philip's hallucinations, the age gape is mentioned but just in passing, implied/referenced drug use (guys c'mon it's Philip), everything canon typical. This takes place after s3 e3. I may have missed some things so lemme know if I should add anything xx

Notes: Happy valentines day! What even was season 3 honestly these two are so fucking whipped for each other it's stupid. How can anyone look at them and see anything but a married couple who are deeply, disgustingly in love with each other. Honestly. I'm so upset that this got cancelled (even though I lowkey liked the ending) so my insufferable ass is probably gonna deal with that through taking matters into my own hands. Also side note this is the first time I've posted m/m so don't be too mean I actually don't really know how men work so... yeah. Shit's been rough lately, breakup and car crash in the space of two days so I actually haven't proofread this sorry (there might be mistakes but that's ok because to err to be human <3) and also I’m literally a (queer) girl and I know nothing about gay (man) sex and it shows. You have been warned.

Philip had woken that morning (morning? Or afternoon? He can’t remember. It doesn’t feel like it had been morning when he’d finally swum up out of Marcy’s sedative) with Trevor in his bed. Well, it wasn’t Trevor, not really, but it was still nice. Not Trevor was smiling at him, wriggling closer, his hand finding Philip’s and pulling it towards his chest. Philip had blinked and he had shimmered, dispersed into light, reformed. He’d blinked again and Not Trevor was gone, and then the real world was flooding in and he half wished he hadn’t woken up at all. 

It’s been happening more and more often lately. Philip looks up from the computer screens and Not Trevor is already smiling at him. Not Trevor interrupts him with a kiss as he walks past. Not Trevor pads barefoot with a towel wrapped around his waist out of the bathroom and winks as Philip watches him go. Philip kneels next to the couch to pick up a ball bearing he’d knocked off the table from under its edge and when he looks up Not Trevor’s legs are either side of him and he has his head tilted back, shirt discarded and he’s panting hard. Philip has no doubt what that particular version of himself had just been doing. On the flip side, he pushes his chair back to take a break and Not Trevor grins up at him from between his legs, he leans over Philip from behind and slides his hand down his front, braces himself against the shower wall, tells Philip to turn around and get on his hands and knees and a million other things and Philip curses the update because none of those images are ever going to leave his head. 

Philip’s not too proud to admit when he likes someone. He’s human, after all, even if some days he doesn’t feel it, and Trevor is beautiful. It’s not just his host, either, although it probably helps to have been blessed looking like that, but there’s something about what 0115 and Trevor Holden have become — Philip’s Trevor, the team’s Trevor, 0115’s own Trevor — that pulls Philip in like a magnet. His joy is addictive. His enthusiasm for life, while it sometimes grates on Philip’s considerably less enthusiastic nerves, is infectious and maybe what people say about opposites attracting each other is right. Not even opposites, really — Philip doesn’t think they’re opposites, but he knows they’re not so-called twin flames — but something about Trevor balancing Philip. Pulling him out of those particularly dark little holes he knows it’s all too easy to get stuck in. Hell, he fell into one last night.

So Philip’s been peeking into other timelines and it’s been fueling the Trevor thing and now he’s waking up and half wishing that what he’s seeing is real. He wants to reach out and grab Trevor and never let go. He wants to stay in this bed with him and never have to do another mission again and just be and let humanity save itself. But, he tells himself firmly as he swings his legs over the side of the mattress and pauses, letting his body stabilise and adjust, that is not going to happen. No amount of wishing will make it. 

Carly and Marcy have explained, as best they can, and he really does feel bad for pulling that kind of shit when they’re all under stress, when nothing feels like it’s going right for anyone and they all have their own bullshit to deal with (he knows all about that, thanks to the update), but Aleksander’s face is still on the computer screens and Philip also knows Mac and Trevor will follow through. And that is where his brain snags for the second time today. Trevor, who found him on the floor and called Marcy over, “panicked” is the word the medic used, and then took off to kill a kid — to help Mac kill a kid. Trevor has faith in the Director, in the Grand Plan, Philip knows that as well as anyone, but he still cringes at the thought of what his roommate — because calling Trevor friend doesn’t quite feel right when he’s seen what he looks like when Philip is not going to complete that thought, they’re past coworkers, and he doesn’t feel like the other guy’s teammate anymore — must be thinking and feeling and doing right now. 

But then, after a few hours of Marcy and Carly doing their best to help him and Philip doing his best not to scream or break something or walk out the door and never come back, the Messenger comes through and just like that it’s all ok again. Marcy and Carly are relieved. Philip is relieved. A massive weight has been lifted off all their shoulders, so why does he still feel so heavy? 

He walks through erasing Mac’s memory like he’s walking through a dream, manages not to stare too long at the insubstantial vision of Trevor’s hand on his knee as they take their leader back to his house and (not uncarefully) deposit him in his bed. They leave. They drive back to ops. Marcy asks if he’s alright and he nods, doesn’t miss the way she says something too quiet to make out to Trevor as she heads back to David. Carly stays for longer, cleans a gun, then makes her exit with a firm hand on Philip’s shoulder and a tight smile. Then they’re alone, and Philip is staring at the screen with a cup of something (he thinks it might be tea, but it’s not hot anymore) he doesn’t remember getting in his hand.  

He doesn’t even hear Trevor approach until the engineer sighs, settling himself next to Philip’s shoulder. 

“The mother even speaks Romanian,” he says, steaming mug cradled in his hands. 

Philip glances at him and he shrugs. “Well that’s great, I’m obviously happy about that.” And he is, he really is. The woman smiling in the photograph looks like a kind person. She doesn’t have the sharpness about her eyes that Aleksander’s previous foster parents did, and maybe the familiarity of the language will help. He knows it did when they rescued the boy in the first place. The word rescue, even just in his mind, leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. He could have avoided the whole mission — putting Trevor and Mac through that — if he’d just stuck to what he was supposed to. There’s no way that this wasn’t some sick lesson. But still… “Why didn’t we start there?”

Trevor pauses before he answers, eyes still locked on the computer screen, brow furrowed. “That wasn’t the path he was on.” 

Sometimes Philip forgets how old Trevor — 0115 — is. He doesn’t act like an old man, as much as the others (Philip included) call him that and joke about it, as much as Trevor himself is open and just as willing to talk about the fact. But there are moments like these when Philip can see 0115’s plural lifetimes of experience and knowledge and wisdom poking through that barely adult face, and it catches him off guard. He’s not put off by Trevor’s age, Truth be told, he’s not sure if anything could put him off Trevor, but it can still be a little unnerving. 

“You don’t need to explain that part to me.” Philip tries not to sound annoyed, because he isn’t. Not really. “What I'm asking you is why we didn’t get a mission to change his path in the first place.” 

Again, Trevor shrugs, and on anyone else the gesture would look flippant. Not him, though. Nothing’s ever flippant with Trevor unless he wants it to be. “Maybe we did. The Director has to thread the needle on billions of possibilities happening to billions of people in a billion different places all over the world. If it seems hard to understand the steps that lead to a particular outcome, it’s because it’s literally impossible for any of us to understand that.” 

Philip can feel Trevor’s eyes on him, but he doesn’t look up. “I hate that.” 

There’s a pause, and he feels Trevor shift infinitesimally closer. “Yeah,” he says. “But you can’t argue with the results.” 

This time Philip does raise his eyes from the screen, turning in his chair to face his roommate. The other guy is perched on a filing cabinet, and Philip has the distinct urge to tell him to just get a chair. He looks a little ridiculous; elbows on his knees, feet resting against the desk (he really wants to tell him to get a chair), cup in his hands and that look that’s so sincere he’d laugh if he saw it on anyone else. It’s so… him and Philip can’t look away. 

Trevor sighs, leans forward and sets down his cup, his feet slipping off the desk as he twists to face Philip. “It wasn’t your fault,” he tells him. 

Philip shakes his head, looking away. He wishes he could believe Trevor, wishes he had just an ounce of his conviction. “It was. By definition, Trevor.” 

“You were trying to save him.” 

“And I made things worse. The Director was teaching me a lesson, I know it was. I know… I know I shouldn’t have tried to interfere.” 

“Hey, hey.” Trevor’s hand is firm and warm on Philip’s shoulder. “You tried to do what you thought was right. And yeah, it didn’t really work out, but it’s in the past. We can’t change that.” He stops, as if realising the irony of his words, then, “Nobody blames you, Philip.” 

“They should.” I do. 

Trevor is close enough that Philip can see the evening sun gilding the tips of his eyelashes, and his voice is so gentle it hurts. “What good is it gonna do now, huh? How is holding onto all that shit and dishing out blame and responsibility gonna help anyone?” 

Philip doesn’t have an answer for that, but he’s not sure if that matters. Not sure if he could speak even if he wanted to, because Trevor is still touching him and Philip must have slid his chair closer because he doesn’t remember the gap between them being this small. Trevor is searching Philip’s face, and he can practically see the cogs ticking behind his eyes — which, up close, never fail to suck Philip’s focus like a vacuum. 

“It’s not your fault. It was never going to be your fault, Philip.”

Philip swallows hard, tongue darting out over his lips. It’s too quiet and too loud all at once, and he wants to look away and he never wants the moment to end. The world is blurry, all he can see is Trevor, his skin is too tight and Trevor’s simultaneously too close and not close enough and then he is leaning the last few inches and all Philip can think is that this has to be another timeline. Things like this don’t happen to him, at least not this him, and—

Oh. Oh. 

Trevor’s lips are soft against his own, the hand that had been resting on his shoulder sliding up to hover almost hesitantly at his jaw. Philip can feel his own heart beating at a million mph, his blood rushing in his ears, and without even realising it he’s kissing Trevor back, tilting his head and pressing closer, Trevor’s skin so warm against his. 

The thing about what Philip sees — hallucinations, illusions, visions, whatever he calls them — is that he doesn’t feel it. He didn’t process the warmth of Not Trevor’s hand when it had been resting on his leg in the car or against his own that morning. He hadn’t felt the press of Not Trevor’s shoulders between his thighs, hadn’t felt the rush of breath over his skin when Not Trevor had laughed and kissed his cheek. And he certainly hadn’t felt the slick softness of Not Trevor’s tongue brushing over his lip. 

Oh, is all Philip can think again as he lets Trevor part his lips, the barest hint of his tongue sliding against his. A question. A warning. A test. Of course, the answer is yes. Philip knows in his soul that the answer will always be yes for Trevor, no matter what timeline they’re in. He feels himself sinking, floating, and when he pushes back against Trevor and slips his own tongue into his mouth, he can taste the tea he was drinking. Trevor is warm and sweet and Philip has never tasted anything so good and now his hand is moving, fingers tangling in Philip’s hair and if it weren’t for the rushing in his ears he could have sworn that Trevor gives a pleased little hum.  

Philip wants to stand, wants to crowd closer and take Trevor’s face between his hands, stand between his legs and feel the press of his body against his own. He wants to feel Trevor’s skin on his, wants him under him and on top of him and everywhere he can think of. He’s pretty sure that Trevor’s knee is blocking him from getting any closer, that and the fact that he’s still sitting in his chair. 

So, as much as it pains him to do so, Philip pulls back from Trevor’s mouth and pauses, heart still thundering, breathing hard, and looks at him. Trevor’s lips are kiss swollen and still parted, his eyes dark and locked on Philip and Philip alone. His hand doesn’t leave Philip’s hair, thumb moving in a tiny arc over the skin under his ear and he knows that even if he wasn’t a Historian, even if he wasn’t hardwired to remember everything, this moment would be ingrained in his brain forever. 

“Are you…?” Trevor starts, watching as Philip pushes himself to stand, his eyes following his every move, head tipping back. He wavers, and for a moment he’s shirtless and sweaty and his cheeks are flushed pink. Not Trevor tilts his head to the side, teeth digging into his bottom lip, and Philip blinks. His Trevor is still watching him, a hint of concern marring his face. 

Philip just nods, watching Trevor’s hand trail down over his chest, coming to rest right over his heart. He wonders if he can feel how hard it’s beating. He looks so serious and sincere, and Philip still can’t believe that this isn’t just because of the update. This is real. This is happening here and now. 

“Philip,” Trevor murmurs, voice thick. God, Philip could listen to that all day. 

He dips his head, and he’s sure that Trevor is smiling as their lips meet again. Philip is painfully aware of where his legs aren’t quite touching him, just resting either side of his hips, but that doesn’t matter because Trevor’s hand is sliding down his torso to sit feather light on his hip, not quite on the waistband of his pants but close enough that Philip feels blood rushing quickly downwards. He places  his own hands firmly either side of Trevor’s face, feels the muscle there twitch momentarily, the mechanism of Trevor’s neck and jaw sliding smoothly like well oiled machinery as he kisses him deeper, harder. His fingers curve perfectly around the back of Trevor’s neck, and this time he’s sure when he hears the little sound slip from the engineer, muffled by his own tongue. It is going to drive Philip insane. Trevor is going to drive him insane. He already is. 

“Philip,” Trevor says again, and Philip really can’t help but push closer. The edge of the filing cabinet is hard against his thighs, the metal cold through his jeans and somehow that is what brings Philip’s spiralling, out of control, too-much-too-fast brain back to the present. And then it clicks, and a stone sinks deep in his stomach. Trevor is distracting him, taking his mind off a truly terrible day because Philip did something stupid last night and Trevor found him this morning. He breaks away, breathing hard for an entirely different reason now. 

Trevor’s hands stop him from going far, his eyebrows furrowing into that familiar concerned frown. “You alright?” 

“I…” Philip stops, takes a breath, swallows. Yes, he’s alright. He’s more than alright with Trevor kissing him, with kissing Trevor. But here and now… Philip isn’t sure how to voice that. He knows Trevor wouldn’t judge him, not after Jenny. Trevor isn’t someone from the 21st, where sex is currency and intimacy is a completely separate thing. Trevor, like most from their time, knows that there’s more to it than that, he knows about Jenny because Philip has told him about Jenny and that whole mess and he trusts Trevor not to ignore all that. But…

“Hey, I’m sorry,” Trevor says, and Philip unfreezes. “I didn’t think it through. I know it’s been rough, and I don’t wanna rush you or—” 

“Are you trying to distract me?” 

Trevor stops, his frown deepens and he shakes his head. “Not really. Maybe a little.” He sighs. “I mean, I didn’t kiss you to distract you. But if I am… is that a bad thing?” He takes a deep breath, his fingers curling on Philip’s hip. “Do you want me to stop?” 

“I don’t…” He isn’t sure what he’s supposed to make of that. It’s not what he wants to hear, but it's not what he doesn’t want to hear either. Truth be told, he doesn’t even know what that is. All he knows is that Trevor means more than 21st century sex and he is in way too deep here. 

Philip does not consider himself brave. He knows people in the future who would say he is just for being here now, but the truth is, they don’t know what they’re talking about. He is not brave, he simply exists. He is a piece in a machine and there is nothing brave about that. But this is different. This is Trevor, and Trevor has always made Philip feel like more than that. Like he’s a person, and more importantly, like that person is worth something. And no, Philip doesn’t want Trevor to stop. He would be happy to live in this moment forever, and that’s the problem. Philip swallows. He will be brave. 

“I don’t want you to be a distraction.” 

Trevor draws back, a tiny wrinkle forming between his eyebrows. “What do you want me to be?”

Philip almost curses, swallows again, looks at his hands. “I want you to be you. You… You mean something to me, Trevor. I want this to mean something.” 

Philip isn’t brave enough to look back at Trevor, but he doesn’t have to be. The other guy’s hand is on his cheek, tilting his face back towards his, and when their eyes meet all Philip can see is the familiar warmth and understanding and joy that Trevor somehow carries within himself no matter what. “It does,” Trevor whispers, and kisses Philip again. 

This kiss tastes different. It has to, Philip supposes as Trevor inches forward on his perch, gripping his shoulders, his arms, his waist, his hips. Trevor really does mean something to Philip, more than he ever would have guessed he could. It’s not because of the visions, and it’s not because Trevor is kissing him now. It’s everything else. It’s Trevor bringing Philip a fastfood meal after he’d been shot. It’s the wordless hands on his shoulders when he’s the first to arrive at the garage and the last to leave. It’s the undiluted wonder and awe in his face when he looks outside. It’s the insistence that he’ll come with Philip, even if it’s because he doesn’t fully trust him — because whatever the reason, Philip likes that he doesn’t feel alone. The reminders that Philip is human, just as human as Trevor, because sometimes that is the hardest thing to remember. 

And Philip really does feel like shit for this morning. For last night, when he’d seen the mission come through and he’d sat there, frozen, and debated calling out Trevor’s name just to see another face and hear his voice, feel another person touch him and remember. But he hadn’t been brave last night. He’d run, and had left Trevor to find and clean up the mess he’d made. He feels his chest tearing apart, ripping violently right down the middle. 

“I’m sorry,” he gasps, tearing himself away from Trevor’s mouth. 

“What for?” Trevor frowns. 

Philip swallows. “Last night. This morning. All of… that.” 

The understanding is so clear in Trevor’s eyes, followed quickly by sadness that hits Philip like a punch. It resolves and shifts, and Trevor’s lips twitch into something that could be called a smile. “You scared me,” he says. 

“I know. I didn’t mean to.” An eyebrow raise at this, and Philip goes on, “I wasn’t trying to. I just… I don’t even know. I was going to tell you when it first came through but I just… I just couldn’t. You know?” 

Trevor nods, and Philip knows he means it. This is the guy who interrupted Grace Day’s TELL, for God’s sake. He doesn’t blame Philip for Aleksander. Things might get murky and complicated sometimes, but at the end of the day Trevor understands when it matters. “I wish you had,” he tells him. There’s no blame or resentment in it, just a statement of fact. “We could have worked something out together.” 

Now it’s Philip’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “Worked something out?” 

“Ok,” Trevor concedes, “maybe not work something out. But you didn’t have to be alone. You don’t have to be alone, Philip. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.” 

It’s so much. It’s too much, and Philip is too heavy for this. So he just nods, watches as Trevor slides off the filing cabinet and stands before him. Philip lets him put his hands on his face and can’t stop himself from leaning into the touch. It doesn’t matter how small it makes him feel. Doesn’t matter that Trevor’s breath hitches in his chest when Philip keeps going and kisses him again, doesn’t matter that he can’t even begin to express what’s swirling in his update-addled, over-full and under-nourished brain right now. They’ve got time. Philip can untangle it all later. 

He pulls Trevor closer, so close he wonders if he can feel the beating of his heart against his own. He can feel his breathing, the expansion and contraction of his lungs and the rush of air on his cheek, the heat of his body and oh, yeah, ok, Trevor’s hard. The thought of that alone has Philip aching, hips pressing into Trevor’s, their jeans hard and rough between them. Something just this side of a moan slips from Philip as Trevor presses back, his hands once more finding Philip’s hair and commanding him to kiss him harder, kiss him longer, kiss him deeper. Philip is only too happy to oblige.

Trevor hums into his mouth as Philip reaches between them, fingers skirting the hem of his shirt. Trevor gives him an insistent nudge and that’s all Philip needs to slide his hand under the fabric, run it over the hot skin of his hip and the planes of his stomach, bunching his shirt up like it’s nothing. Philip wants to map out every cell of Trevor’s body, commit every curve and dip and hollow to memory like he’s memorised every TELL and candidate and major event. He passes his hand over Trevor’s ribs, up the centre of his abdomen, higher to his sternum and back down again to grip his waist. Touching him isn’t enough. Philip needs this man. 

Trevor’s grip on his hair tightens momentarily when Philip’s lips move from his own to his jaw, down the column of his neck. These kisses are wet, open mouthed, not quite careless but hardly neat, and if he goes any harder he’s going to leave marks. He isn’t sure if that’s something Trevor wants, but the other man’s head is tilted to let Philip continue, so he sucks — oh so lightly — at the spot where neck and shoulder meet. 

“Fuck,” Trevor hisses, fingers curling, hips grinding against Philip’s. Philip can literally feel his brain emptying of all thought except that he needs to make Trevor do that again. 

“Hm?” he asks, just in case (just in case what? He doesn’t know), and Trevor nods. So Philip does the only rational thing and sucks again, moves his head and does it to another spot, and now that he can see the darker patches of skin on Trevor’s neck, he never wants to stop. 

“Philip,” Trevor whispers, voice cracking. His throat moves as he swallows, hard, and Philip pointedly grazes the spot with his teeth. He tastes like the cheap soap they keep in the bathroom, and even though it’s the same one Philip uses day in day out, on Trevor’s skin and up this close it is somehow more. It’s Trevor, and Philip isn’t sure he’s ever going to be able to casually use the stuff again without this moment flooding his overly accurate historian brain. As desperate and insane as he knows the thought is, even as he has it, Philip wants to lick every trace of that soap off Trevor. But his shirt is still bunched around his chest and Philip can only reach so much of his skin around it. 

“Off,” he murmurs, pulling back just enough to see Trevor’s tongue dart over his lip, his eyes dark.

His voice is husky and raw when he speaks. “You too.” 

“Here?” The realisation that they’re still at the desk seems to strike Trevor the same moment that Philip fully processes it, eyes darting around the room. 

After a moment, Trevor shakes his head. “No,” he says, untangling himself from Philip enough to take his hand. “No, come on.”

Philip has never been led into his own bedroom. He’s never watched someone else’s hand pull at his, met someone else’s eyes over their shoulder, stumbled to keep up with someone else through his own door. Never been pulled onto his bed by someone else. He’s been pushed, which was exciting and fun and hot at the time, and he’s done the leading, and the looking back and the steadying at the inevitable stumble, but this is new. If Philip is completely honest, it’s a little unnerving. 

But then Trevor is facing him, reaching for his shirt and pulling it over his head and all Philip can think is holy shit because all that football pays off. Trevor’s mouth curves as he steps towards him, like he knows exactly what Philip is thinking. Which wouldn’t be that hard, since Philip isn’t exactly trying to keep a straight face. 

“You tryna catch flies, Philip?” Trevor asks him, and Philip feels his cheeks heat. He hadn’t even realised his mouth was open. 

“Sorry,” he mutters, eyes locked firmly on Trevor’s face. His smile. The collection of red marks dotting his neck. 

Trevor just shakes his head, stepping closer. “Don’t be.” His hands settle on the hem of Philip’s own shirt, his fingers barely brushing Philip’s skin. “But,” he goes on, “this isn’t fair.” 

“Oh, fair,” Philip echoes, raising his eyebrows. But he’s already taking over from Trevor, shrugging off the shirt and dropping it like it’s nothing (and it isn’t really, not when he has Trevor standing before him like this). “Better?” he asks. 

Trevor looks away from his face, and Philip can almost physically feel his eyes sliding over his torso, stopping at his chest, lifting back to his face and gleaming with something that he can only describe as incredulous excitement. “What’s that?” he asks, as if he doesn’t know. 

“Piercing.” Because that’s what Trevor’s looking at, and if Philip’s completely honest, he feels a little… proud? He’d had his doubts when he’d first discovered the ring through his nipple, and had been more confused by it than he had by the ear and nose piercings. He can understand jewellery where people are going to see it. He’d done his research on piercings and tattoos outside of the training on 21st century behaviour they’d all taken, at the same time as he’d taken a deep dive into tattoo symbolism (he’d been suddenly consumed by the fear that his host’s tattoos meant something he should know about, which hadn’t really been the case but Philip still thought that it was better to know than not). He hadn’t found much to convince him that the solitary ring through his nipple of all places was a particularly groundbreaking way to modify the body, but now… Now he thinks he might get it. 

Trevor is shaking his head, eyes still glued to the little piece of metal. “That’s so…” 

“Weird?” 

“No, it’s—” He stops, laughs, grins at Philip. “It’s really hot.” 

Philip can feel his eyebrows shooting up his face. “You think?” 

“Yeah, I… I don’t know why.” 

“Oh, ok.” That’s… unexpected. Philip knows that his host isn’t bad to look at, and he knows that some of the reasoning behind piercings is for attractiveness. He’s studied the face that he now calls his in the mirror a thousand times, he sees the body that he now inhabits every day and as far as 21st century guys in their late twenties go, it’s really not bad. Of course, there are the track marks and the occasional (lately more frequent) shadows under his eyes, stubble if it’s been a particularly rough few days (Trevor’s newly almost-permanent presence helps with that, even if he doesn’t know it), but hey, if Trevor’s standing here right now he knows he’s got something going for him. But the look in the engineer’s eyes when they meet Philip’s again makes him feel like a damn artwork. 

Trevor’s grin broadens, and before Philip can even begin to reconcile what that’s doing to him Trevor’s lips are on his once more and he’s being pulled hard against him, skin to skin, heart to heart, Trevor’s hands roaming over his shoulders and his back and his waist and his ribs and his chest and Philip is moaning into the kiss like… he doesn’t even know what. 

They’re moving, almost tripping over each other and it’s a miracle either of them can keep their balance, but then Trevor’s knees hit the edge of the bed and they’re half falling onto it, a little uncoordinated but does that really matter when Trevor is still pulling Philip close, smiling even as his tongue dances alongside Philip’s? He’s all too aware of where his body is, where his leg presses between Trevor’s and his arm is locked, holding his weight off the other man. 

Trevor, however, has both hands free. Gooseflesh prickles across Philip’s chest and stomach as he trails his hands over his body, electricity sparking when his fingers skirt the waistband of his pants. He feels Trevor smile again, and his breath hitches in his throat. Shit, he’s never going to be able to kiss anyone else again. He doesn’t even want to kiss anyone else. Ever. 

“Do you want this?” Trevor murmurs against his lips, the tips of his fingers just dipping below his waistband and oh fuck he hadn’t realised just how badly he wanted that. 

Philip nods, then groans when Trevor palms him because even through his pants his hand is a million times better than his own. The other guy curses, does it again, and Philip’s teeth dig into his bottom lip. His eyes are dark and sincere, flicking between Philip’s own and where his fingers are curling gently around his clothed cock. 

“Can I?” Trevor asks. Philip has never nodded faster. He’s not even entirely sure what Trevor’s getting at, but he’s happy to let him touch him however he wants, wherever he wants, and he trusts him completely. Of course he already knew that — you kind of have to trust your team, after all — but he’s only just realising that he’s trusted Trevor as more than a team member for quite some time. Probably right alongside everything else that’s become more than a team member with Trevor. 

Philip isn’t wasting time philosophising, his attention fixed firmly on Trevor’s hand which is back at his pants and oh that’s what he meant. He helps out, shoving his pants down and off with less grace than he’d like, underwear following suit. The air is cool on his hot skin, and for a moment he feels oddly exposed. Then Trevor is pushing at his hip, tongue darting over his lips again and there’s almost an urgency to his movements. 

“C’mon, just— Hold on a second—” he says, still attempting to manoeuvre Philip. 

He almost laughs at his eagerness. “Trev, give me a second, man. What’re you tryna do?” 

Trevor pauses, his thumb running in a tiny arc over Philip’s hip bone — he’s not sure if he’s even doing it consciously. “Swap.” He nods to the mattress, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Maybe it is and Philip’s just lagging behind. 

“Oh, ok.” He shrugs, half climbing and half rolling sideways. “You could’ve just said that.” 

“Yeah, I know, I…” He sighs, rubs a hand over his forehead. “I keep getting caught up. Sorry.” 

Trevor getting caught up in him? In Philip? He doesn’t quite know how to respond to that, so he just shrugs again. “I’m that irresistible, huh?” 

The look Trevor shoots him is anything but joking. “You have no idea.” 

Philip opens his mouth, shuts it, shakes his head in awe. Who would have thought? “C’mere,” he tells Trevor softly, and the gravity is lifted as he smiles and practically bounces down beside him, pressing his lips to Philip’s. They’re getting better at this. Not that they were bad, of course, but they fall into the easy rhythm of each other much more quickly now. There’s no fumbling or searching or exploring, it’s familiar and Philip never wants that to end. 

Trevor’s hand is resting on Philip’s chest, warm and firm and now Philip is sure he can feel how hard his heart is beating. He stretches up, chasing Trevor as the other guy pulls away, but he can only do so much. Trevor smiles and gives him another quick kiss, almost chaste, the kind that Philip definitely doesn’t imagine he’d give him when their day to day paths cross in the garage. When he leaves to get food. When he comes back again. 

But that thought is wiped away before Philip’s mind can snag on it, because Trevor is spitting into his palm and wrapping his fingers around Philip’s dick, gentle and slick and warm and Philip curses softly. It’s almost almost perfect. 

“Like this?” Trevor asks, eyes fixed on his face. 

Philip swallows. His voice sounds odd even to his own ears, husky and strangled. “Uh, little harder.” 

Trevor squeezes, and it’s all Philip can do not to fall apart right there as his grip tightens and his hand moves. “This?” 

He feels the breath catch in his throat. “Yeah. Fuck Trev, that’s perfect.” And it is. It really is. There’s only so much his mind can come up with, he thinks as he takes in Trevor’s strong arm and large hand moving rhythmically over him, feels the heat of his body where it presses against his own and listens to Trevor’s breathing and soft hum of appreciation in response to his own moan. No matter what the update lets him see, no matter what he manages to dream up by himself, it won’t compare to this. 

Trevor is leaning closer, and Philip shivers as his breath hushes over the skin of his shoulder, his neck, then practically gasps as Trevor kisses the hollow under his jaw. He makes to turn his head, meet the other guy half way, but Trevor doesn’t let him. He kisses his jaw again, nudging him away and Philip just lets him. He even turns his face, just a little, but Trevor notices and his chuckle sends molten heat shooting straight down his spine. Trevor’s lips are moving, up over the muscle of his neck, tongue darting out to taste his skin. Philip gets it now, and then Trevor is whispering “this ok?” and he’s nodding (how could it not be?). 

“Fuck,” he breathes as Trevor sucks at the spot, and Philip really gets it. It’s not like hickeys are foreign to him, but this is something else altogether. Trevor’s hand is still moving firmly on his cock, maybe a little slower than he himself would go but damn is it good, and now he’s working his way down Philip’s neck to his chest. The tiny burst of almost-pain followed by the soft heat of Trevor’s tongue has Philip arching towards him, hips jutting shamelessly into his hand as he does his best to stop the embarrassingly desperate sounds he’s on the verge of making from escaping him. 

“Philip,” Trevor murmurs to his clavicle. 

“Hm?” Philip answers, lifting his head enough to meet his gaze. He half wishes he didn’t, another blazing hot spark of pure need rushing through him.

Trevor either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. He presses his lips to Philip’s skin yet again, gentle and oddly tender given that he’s still jerking him off, looking at him through his lashes (Philip wonders if he’s doing that deliberately. If he knows what it’s doing to him). “You don’t have to be quiet,” he says softly, and there’s another kiss. Lower this time, on his pectoral.

“I’m— I’m not—” Philip breaks off in a rush of air when he feels Trevor’s teeth graze his skin. 

“Not what?” 

Philip doesn’t even know what he’d been getting at, but it sure isn’t important. “Doesn’t matter,” he breathes. 

“You sure?” 

“Mhm.” Then, as Trevor’s thumb slides over the sensitive head of his cock, “Fucking hell, Trev.” 

“Is that—” 

“Yes. Yes, oh my— Fuck—” 

Trevor’s mouth has found his nipple. Maybe it’s a little weird, but Philip is hardly in any condition to be thinkin about that. Trevor’s tongue is flicking over the ring cautiously, gently, and it feels really good. Better than it has any right to.

“Ok?” Trevor asks, kissing the sensitive spot. 

“Yeah.” Philip swallows, bites down on a moan and then remembers Trevor’s words. You don’t have to be quiet. 

This time, when Trevor’s hand tightens and moves over his aching cock, he groans, and feels Trevor’s body shudder against his. Philip brings his hand up to run across Trevor’s strong shoulders, down over his spine and back up again. He hums, and his hand speeds up every so slightly. 

“Oh fuck,” Philip moans, “fuck, Trev, keep doing that.” 

“Yeah, don’t worry.” Trevor’s voice is low and rough, his chuckle little more than a breath of air. “I’m not… I’m not stopping.” The engineer raises his head, his teeth digging into his bottom lip as he studies Philip’s face like he’s trying to memorise it. Philip is torn between holding his gaze and looking away, heat coiling low inside him, and again he jerks in Trevor’s hand. Trevor laughs again, moving hard and fast and if he keeps that up Philip isn’t sure he’ll last another minute. 

“Trev,” he gasps, gripping his shoulder hard enough that he almost feels bad. “Fuck, fuck.” Yeah. Philip’s really articulate when he chooses to be. He wants Trevor inside him, wants to be inside Trevor. He doesn’t care where, exactly, he just knows that he needs to be closer, deeper, needs to feel their bodies blur into one, but right now he isn’t spending particularly long dissecting that thought. He’s got time. 

“‘Salright,” Trevor murmurs, as if he knows exactly what Philip’s thinking. “I got you, man.” 

Philip feels himself tremble and tip, bliss rolling up through his spine. He might be saying Trevor’s name, might be cursing, or the sounds might be just that; wordless and primal and torn from deep within him. Trevor works him through the high, and as the electricity coursing through Philip cools to static, his hand slows and finally withdraws to rest on his stomach. They don’t speak for a moment, their breathing and the ticking of the clock the only sounds in the room. Philip doesn’t look down, he knows his stomach is a mess, and chooses instead to turn towards Trevor. 

The engineer grins, then drops his eyes pointedly to Philip’s stomach. He feels his cheeks heat, but before he can say or do anything Trevor is bending and sliding down the mattress and Philip thinks he knows what he’s about to do but he doesn’t know what he thinks about what Trevor is about to do. Then his tongue is flicking over Philip’s abdomen and his skin is twitching, a small sound that’s half shock and half pleasure catching in his throat. Problem solved, he supposes. 

“Alright?” Trevor asks as he withdraws. 

Philip just nods, pushing himself to sit up. Trevor smiles and leans closer, his lips soft and gentle against Philip’s. This kiss is almost chaste, reassurance and a kind of confirmation (of what, Philip isn’t sure) all at once. He’s only too happy to reciprocate, his body pleasantly warm and heavy and buzzing with Trevor, Trevor, Trevor, whose chest is pressing against his own. 

Philip pulls him closer, hands sliding over the smooth muscle of his arms and shoulders, cupping the back of his neck as he slips his tongue into Trevor’s mouth. He can taste himself on the other guy’s tongue, a thought that has his brain spinning excitedly out of control and his stomach launching into an olympic level acrobatics routine. Does Trevor like the warm saltiness still clinging to his tongue? Is that what Trevor would taste like? God, Philip wants to find that out. 

Gently, he shifts and nudges at Trevor’s shoulder until he gets the message (faster than Philip had earlier) and lets him push him onto the mattress. His legs fall apart easily when Philip pushes his own between them, and when he moves and his thigh comes into contact with Trevor’s crotch he practically arches off the bed. Philip stifles a laugh. 

“Something funny?” Trevor asks, eyebrow raised when he ceases his assault on his mouth to look at him. But he’s smiling. Flushed, eyes dark and shining, lips swollen and pink and still parted as he breathes hard, but smiling. Philip can feel his brain going into overdrive to store that image perfectly. 

“No,” Philip shrugs, letting his eyes trail lower over Trevor’s torso (the guy has actual abs, which Philip is going to be thinking about for a long time). 

“No? What’s that look for?” 

He debates it for a moment, then, “I’m memorising.” 

Trevor frowns. “Memorising what?” 

Philip presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth, “You.” He pushes his leg firmly in between Trevor’s, basking in the breathy little moan it draws from him, “That.” 

“Fuck, Philip,” he whispers as Philip moves his hand down his side to his hip, across the faint V under his belly button to skirt the waistband of his pants (why the fuck is he still wearing pants?). Philip isn’t even sure if he means to do it, but Trevor’s grinding against his leg and looking up at him like he’s the only thing he’s ever wanted. He thinks he might just cum again, right here right now. 

“Can I?” he asks, already dipping his fingers below the line of fabric. 

“Yeah, yeah sure.” Trevor seems almost surprised by the suggestion, as if it’s the last thing he expected. 

Philip pauses, frowns. “You sure?” 

This time, Trevor’s voice is firmer. “I’m sure, Philip.” 

Philip nods, breath hitching in his throat. Trevor’s eyes are fixed on his hands, but he can’t look away from the engineer’s face. He gets Trevor’s pants undone, pulls them down, finally tears his gaze from Trevor’s flushed cheeks and wide eyes and parted lips and— 

“Jesus, Trev.” There’s a sizeable wet spot on Trevor’s underpants, the outline of his cock clear and hard and fuck, the dude is big. Philip’s mouth waters.

Trevor doesn’t seem to know what to say to that (which is doing things for Philip that he doesn’t want to even begin to address), but it doesn’t matter. Philip eases his underwear off, and, softly and with plenty of opportunity for Trevor to stop him, wraps his fingers around his length. 

“This ok?” he asks, watching Trevor’s face carefully. 

“Yeah—” Trevor’s voice cracks, and he tries again. “Yeah, that’s… that’s good.” 

“This?” Philip moves his hand, ignoring the little thrill that goes through him as his fingers come into contact with the moisture already gathered on Trevor’s tip. 

“Yeah.” 

“How about this?” Philip squeezes, watching Trevor’s teeth sink into his bottom lip and his head fall back as he whispers something that sounds like a “yes”, and holy shit has he got a jawline. He’d almost be jealous if he wasn’t so caught up admiring Trevor like this. If he wasn’t so far gone on him. If he wasn’t busy sliding down Trevor’s body, his face now level with his hand. 

“This?” 

“F—fuck,” Trevor gasps as Philip licks the tip of his dick, head whipping up to stare at him. 

He pauses, waiting. “Ok?” 

“Yeah, yeah that’s… that’s fine.” Trevor’s throat moves as he swallows. “You don’t have to, though.” 

“I want to,” he shrugs. “Do you want me to?” 

Trevor nods fast enough that in any other situation it would be comical, and Philip can’t help but smile. He bends, places a soft kiss at the junction of Trevor’s hip, then licks him again. 

Trevor moans, his hand drifting up to wind through Philip’s hair. 

Philip just smiles and flicks his tongue over the sensitive slit. 

“Stop teasing,” Trevor whispers. 

“I’m not.” 

“You are,” he protests. “It’s not fair.” 

“Fine,” Philip shrugs, and before Trevor can say anything else he’s opening his mouth, relaxing his tongue and taking Trevor as deep as he can. 

“Oh fuck,” he says, his fingers tightening momentarily in Philip’s hair. “Oh, you— Jesus.” 

The room could collapse right now and Philip wouldn’t notice. His senses are narrowed and focussed to the hot weight of Trevor’s cock in his mouth, the smell of his sweat and skin and his own spit (not pleasant, not exactly, but addictive nonetheless), his half stifled moan and the faint saltiness of precum. His hand works what doesn’t fit in his mouth, slow and firm and sliding easily with his makeshift spit-lube. His tongue swirls around Trevor’s cock, mapping every curve and ridge and vein. 

Philip raises his eyes as he hollows his cheeks and sucks, relishing the almost-whine that slips from Trevor. Again, he sees the engineer as he had been on the couch — chest heaving, gleaming with a light sheen of sweat, head tipped back and eyes closed. But this is better, because this Trevor — his Trevor — is already looking down at him, biting his lip, the unfairly defined muscles of his stomach tense and moving in time with his rapid breathing. A groan reverberates through his chest, and it’s all Philip can do not to smile. 

“Wish you could see yourself,” Trevor whispers, the hand that isn’t tangled in Philip’s hair twisting the sheets. 

In lieu of speech, he raises an eyebrow. 

“You’re a fucking wet dream, Philip,” he pants, and that is not what he expected to hear. It catches him off guard enough that he falters, his own surprised half moan making Trevor’s hips stutter up against his hand. His mouth. 

“Shit, sorry,” he says quickly, but Philip is shaking his head. Don’t worry. It’s ok. He gives what he thinks is a reassuring suck, his free hand settling on Trevor’s hip — as if he’d be able to do anything if he decided to face fuck him. As if he’d want to. 

Trevor curses again, softly, his eyes not leaving Philip’s face. He’s trying to be gentle, Philip can tell, and he feels something inside him melt because of course he would. Even as he whispers “fuck” like that and moans like that he’s still trying not to hurt him — as if he ever could. Philip doesn’t even know if he’d really care at this point. 

“Hm?” He doesn’t stop, moisture pricking behind his eyes as he relaxes his throat even further and practically swallows Trevor’s dick. His hand is sliding so easily now, slick and a bit messy and maybe it should be gross but nothing is gross with Trevor, who was licking Philip’s cum off his stomach just before and has seen him at his worst and has clasped his shoulder and pushed him through. He moves faster, a little harder, and Trevor’s hips buck up again. Before he can apologise, Philip’s thumb moves in a tiny arc over his hip. He hopes Trevor understands. 

“Fuck, fuck, yes,” he gasps. “Please, Philip, I—” 

He can’t stop himself from moaning, an embarrassingly desperate sound. He could listen to Trevor forever, feel him like this forever, replay the movement of his body and the rough crack of his voice and the delicious tension of his fingers still gripping his hair until the Earth stops spinning. He wants to, future be damned. It’s a feedback loop, Trevor’s body jolting towards him as he tips his head back, Philip’s own need surging hot inside him, and he’s gripping Trevor tighter and taking him deeper, revelling in Trevor’s moans and gasps. 

“Hold on,” he says suddenly, and Philip freezes.

“You alright?” he asks, withdrawing with a wet “pop,” his hand still resting on Trevor’s hip. 

He nods quickly, his hand slipping from Philip’s hair to rest against his jaw. “Yeah, I’m fine. Better than fine.” 

“Ok,” he frowns, “then what’s…?” 

“Do you…” He pauses, thinks, swallows. Tries again. “Do you want to go… further?” 

Philip feels his heartbeat quicken, mind racing with the possibilities. He’s never taken that particular step, but if he wants to with anyone, it’s Trevor. And hell yes he wants to, wants to go as far as is humanly possible and never come back. He’s seen so many variations of further now, he can’t pick what this could possibly be, and not knowing is oddly thrilling. 

“We don’t have to,” Trevor is adding hastily, his hand sliding down to clasp Philip’s shoulder. “It’s ok if you don’t—” 

“I do,” Philip interrupts. “I really, really do, Trev.” 

Trevor nods, shuffles backwards before pushing himself to his knees. Philip follows suit, steadying himself against Trevor’s shoulder. His hair is falling into his face now that Trevor’s not holding it back, and he half wishes he had an elastic band with him. Even if Trevor seems to like putting his hands in it. 

“It’s hot when you do that,” the engineer says as Philip pushes his hair out of his face. 

He arches an eyebrow. “I think you’re biassed.” 

“Maybe a little,” he shrugs, “but I’m not wrong.” 

Philip really needs to learn how to respond to this kind of thing, because at some point simply kissing Trevor isn’t going to be sufficient. But it’s working for now, so he’s got time. Trevor hums softly when he pushes closer, his skin hot in all the places it’s touching Philip’s. Philip cups Trevor’s neck gently but firmly, his tongue sliding easily between Trevor’s parted lips and he wonders if Trevor can still taste himself in Philip’s mouth the way Philip can. He shifts, electric heat surging through him when he feels Trevor’s hardness press against his hip, blood rushing downwards in sympathy. 

Trevor moans, grinding lightly against Philip, the kisses rapidly descending into something too messy to be called a kiss at all by any stringent definition. It’s more like Philip licking into Trevor’s mouth, Trevor licking into his, a whirl of tongues and teeth and lips that somehow has Philip moaning too, striving to get closer to Trevor in any way he can. He knows exactly what he wants now, and, as if Trevor is reading his mind, his hand is sliding down his side and around his hip to rest on his ass. 

“Is—?” 

“Mhm.” Philip gasps as Trevor squeezes, just gently, but God he wants his hands everywhere. If Trevor touches every inch of his skin, he thinks, it still won’t be enough. But damn, this is a good start. 

“Turn around,” Trevor murmurs against his lips, drawing back enough to make eye contact with Philip. 

He doesn’t waste time, as much as it pains him to break away, but when Trevor’s voice is that low, that husky, that raw with want, it’s worth it. Trevor’s hand doesn’t leave his hip, half guiding him as he faces the headboard. 

“Holy shit,” Trevor says, and Philip glances over his shoulder to see the other guy’s eyes locked on the tattoo sprawling across his shoulder blades. “I didn’t know there was more.” 

“Uh, yeah,” he laughs. “Neither did I at first.” He shivers as Trevor runs his hand across the inked skin, tracing the points and whorls of the design. He’d actually forgotten about it, as he does most of the time (until he has to do a double take when he catches sight of it in the mirror), but something about the awe and fascination tingeing Trevor’s expression makes him think that that’s not going to be a problem in the future. 

“Fucking hot,” he proclaims, bending to kiss right between Philip’s shoulder blades. He does it again at Philip’s sigh, then again, then lower. He traces the line of his spine with kisses, fingers curling over his hip, and Philip’s not sure who it is who moves close enough that Trevor’s erection presses against him. Either way, it doesn’t matter because Philip is definitely the one who pushes further back against him, and Trevor is the one who pulls him to do it again. 

“Fuck,” he breathes, because now that he’s feeling the hot hardness and the size of him against his ass, Philip isn’t sure if the spit still coating Trevor’s dick — copious though it may be — will actually be enough. 

“You alright?” Trevor asks. 

“Yeah.” 

“Philip.” Trevor rubs his shoulder, gentle but insistent. “Why’re you so tense?” 

Philip sighs, rolls his shoulders, forces them to relax. This is Trevor, who is not going to hurt him, and who he trusts with his life. More than his life. “I’m fine,” he says, “I just… haven’t done this bit before. And you’re kinda big.” 

Trevor chuckles at that, shuffling around so he can see Philip’s face. “That’s ok,” he assures him. “We don’t have to—” 

“I want to.” 

“Then I’ll go slow.” 

That… is actually really reassuring. The tension leaks from Philip, and he offers Trevor a smile. “Ok. Thanks.” 

“You’ll tell me if you wanna stop, yeah?” 

Philip just nods, then Trevor is moving again and he has to twist over his shoulder to catch his smile. He leans into Trevor’s touch as the engineer’s hand skims his arm, his shoulder, his back, up his side and down again to his ass. They move together, slowly and carefully, and Philip feels the last vestiges of his nervousness slide away. 

“Can I?” Trevor asks, fingers slipping lower. His voice is soft, but Philip doesn’t miss the way his breath catches when he nods. Trevor’s fingers are wet with spit, and when he pushes one inside Philip there's only a little resistance. “Ok?” 

Philip nods. It’s an odd sensation, and he isn’t entirely sure if he likes it yet, but he trusts Trevor. He makes himself relax, focusses on Trevor’s free hand where it rests on his hip because he knows he likes that, and lets him move. He doesn’t mind it, he decides, especially when Trevor bends and kisses his shoulder. There’s a bit of pressure, a slight burn and stretch, and now there are two fingers inside him. 

“Ok?” Trevor asks again, and again Philip nods. He’s starting to think that he might like this, and Trevor’s still going slow but now his fingers are curled and yeah, Philip likes this. 

“Yeah,” he says. “That’s good.” 

“You sure?” Trevor whispers against his skin, and this time when he pushes into Philip it really is good.

“Mhm,” he breathes, teeth digging into his bottom lip. Almost involuntarily he rocks his hips back onto Trevor’s hand, and feels the other guy smile. 

“Alright.” He continues for a moment, and Philip’s more than happy with that, but then when his fingers withdraw they go all the way and Philip actually misses the feeling. Misses Trevor inside him, even if it’s just his fingers. He hears Trevor spit, another sound he’s all too familiar with, then something bigger than a finger is poking him and his heart skips a beat. 

“Ready?” Trevor asks. 

Philip swallows and nods for what feels like the millionth time today. “Yeah.” 

Trevor pauses. “Ok, bend over a bit? And maybe…” He pauses, then, “Do you wanna, uh, hold onto something?” 

That’s probably not intended to turn Philip on this much, but it does. He does as Trevor says and leans forward, bracing his hands on the wall, spreading his legs when he feels the pressure of Trevor’s hand between his thighs. “Like this?” he asks. 

Trevor’s voice is husky when he answers. “Yeah, perfect.” Then he’s pushing gently into Philip, who presses his lips together because Trevor feels bigger than he looks. It’s not really painful, and he’s going slow, and the spit lube helps, but it’s still more than his fingers and Philip can’t help the way his breath catches in his throat. 

“I’m alright,” he assures Trevor before he can ask. 

“You sure?” 

“Yeah, just… gimme a second.” 

“Tell me when.” 

Half of Philip wants to turn around and kiss Trevor for that, the other half wants to shove himself backwards and just take it from there. But he’s got enough of his brain left in his head to know that that would be a terrible idea, so he breathes deeply and waits until the faint burn fades and all that’s left is the pleasant stretch and fullness. “Ok,” he says after a moment, “you can, uh, keep going.” 

He half expects Trevor to do just that and push deeper, but instead he feels him pull out. He spits again, and this time the slide is easier, softer, further. Trevor curses softly, does it again, and now they have a rhythm. It’s slow and measured, careful, and Philip finds that it’s easy to relax into the movement of their bodies, to let Trevor rock into him and just brace against the wall — which is not even bracing anymore, more like stabilising. 

“Fuck, you feel good,” Trevor murmurs, the words sending Philip’s mind spinning. 

“So do you,” he replies and revels in the tightening of Trevor’s hand on his hip. This time, when Trevor thrusts into him, he does push back and meets him halfway, something between a gasp and groan falling from his lips. 

“Alright?” Trevor slows just a little, concern clear in his voice. 

Philip thinks he might melt on the spot, but instead he smiles. “I’m fine, Trev. you don’t have to be so… careful.” 

“You sure? Cause I don’t mind. I said I'd go slow.” 

“Well…” Philip pauses, glances over his shoulder. “Can you go a bit harder?”

“Yeah,” Trevor answers, and maybe it’s Philip’s imagination but he sounds a bit breathless. “Sure. Tell me what feels good.” 

Then he’s moving again, pushing deeper than before, and Philip is telling him that that feels good and Trevor is doing it again. It’s not much faster, but it’s somehow more, and Trevor’s gripping his hip damn hard now. Philip hopes he’ll have bruises. 

“Fuck, Trev,” he moans, arching into it, dimly aware of the bedframe squeaking faintly. “Fuck, that’s— that’s fucking great.” 

“Yeah? Not too — ah — fast?” 

“No,” Philip assures him. Then, “Faster?” 

“Shit, ok.” Trevor speeds up, and now he’s hitting something deep inside Philip that has him stumbling over Trevor’s name and pulsing with need. Before he can do anything about that Trevor’s strong arm is sliding around his torso, pulling him back against his chest and his hand is wrapping around Philip’s dick for the second time today as he continues to rearrange his guts. Philip knows he isn’t going to last long. 

“Fucking hell, Trev,” he gasps, because that’s really all he can do. He’s surrounded by Trevor, the engineer’s mouth warm and wet on the skin of his shoulder, his hand firm — just how Philip likes it — around his cock, Trevor’s own cock stroking what feels like every inch of his insides, his warm chest damp with sweat and pressed to Philip’s back. If he died right now he’d go out with a smile on his face, because he’s pretty sure it doesn’t get better than this. 

“Oh God,” Trevor groans. “You feel like fucking Heaven, you know that? You’re Heaven.” 

Philip didn’t know that, but he probably could have guessed from the desperation of Trevor’s combined fist and hips. He feels the words against his shoulder, feels Trevor’s warm breath stirring his hair and it must be all that damned football because he hasn’t faltered once. Philip can’t wait to make him. “You’re talking,” he manages, but any impact it might have had is lost in the unsteadiness of his voice. Maybe he’s still sensitive from his earlier orgasm, maybe it’s just that this is so much more intense, but he can already feel the tight coil of pleasure building low inside him. 

“Yeah, I’m — fuck, Philip — I’m talking.” He gives a particularly hard thrust, and it’s all Philip can do not to collapse right then and there. Trevor is going to be the death of him, and he’s going to say thank you when it happens. 

“Don’t stop,” he pleads — fucking pleads. “Shit, Trev, don’t stop.” 

“‘M not,” Trevor pants. “Don’t worry, I’m not fucking stopping.” And he isn’t. If anything, he’s going harder. “I’m— shit, fuck, fuck, Philip I’m gonna— Philip, where do I—?” 

Oh, is all Philip can think. “In me,” he blurts, because protocol 4 isn’t going to be a problem and this is the 21st century. 

“You sure?” 

“Yeah, I’m sure. Fuck, Trevor I’m so— I’m gonna—” 

Trevor is groaning deeply, spilling hot and thick inside Philip and with that, white hot bliss explodes through his body. He’s dimly aware of Trevor’s chest heaving against his back, his own name being chanted like a prayer, an incantation, and Philip’s never loved the sound of it more than he does right now. Right now it really is his name, and he knows he’s never coming back from this, and that he doesn’t want to. He thinks he says Trevor’s, too, over and over and punctuated with curses, but how is he supposed to do anything else when it feels like this? 

Trevor’s movements slow eventually until they stop altogether, the only sound in the room their ragged breathing and the rustle of the sheets and Trevor pulls out and flops onto the mattress. Philip mourns the loss of the feeling of fullness for a moment as he adjusts to the sudden emptiness, forcing his arms to unlock and relax, his legs to shift — he hadn’t realised they were shaking, but now that he has he can’t stop it — and collapses next to Trevor. 

“God, Philip,” he whispers to the ceiling, then raises his head and smiles. 

“You alright?” Philip asks. Idly, he traces a circle over Trevor’s heart. 

“I am so alright,” he sighs, breathes a laugh, turns to lie on his stomach and looks at Philip over the muscle of his arm. “You?” 

Philip smiles too, his whole body heavy and satisfied. “So alright,” he echoes softly, and if he wasn’t so completely boneless he’d lean over, press his lips to Trevor’s, soft and careful. Instead, he stretches out alongside Trevor. He can feel his cum leaking out of him, and the rational part of his brain says that’s gross and he should clean it up — along with the mess on his stomach. The irrational part of his brain that had his heart speeding up when he watched Trevor lick him clean earlier says it’s hot. Either way, Philip is not getting out of this bed any time soon. 

“What?” 

He blinks, jerks out of his thoughts. Trevor is frowning, still turned towards him and close enough that when Philip extends his pinkie finger it meets warm skin. “Nothing,” he says. Then, because he’s not brave enough to say what he really means, “Do you wanna stay?” 

The wrinkle disappears from between Trevor’s brows and he pretends to think. “Do I wanna get up, get dressed, walk up the loft stairs and try to go to sleep by myself while I know you’re down here?” He scoffs like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, and maybe to him it is. But he still asks, “Do you want me to?” 

“I just want you,” Philip breathes. It doesn’t quite sound right and he’s not even sure if it’s really what he wants to say, but it’s close enough.

“You just had me.” 

“No,” he sighs, “I mean this. I want this.”

“Oh.” Trevor’s face softens. “Right. Well, you’ve got it, Philip.” Slowly, he wriggles his hand close enough to lace his fingers with Philip’s and pulls their hands towards himself, lips brushing his knuckles. Philip thinks his heart is going to burst, and since when is he such a sap? Must be something about Trevor that makes his brain fly out the window. 

He slips his hand from Trevor’s to run it down the curve of his spine like he’d wished he could this morning, mapping every vertebrae as if the world is depending on it. And maybe his is. He watches the smooth motion of muscle and bone and ligaments and skin as Trevor shifts infinitesimally closer, mesmerised by the simultaneous complexity and simplicity of the movement. The dying light cascades over Trevor’s back and neck, glancing off his hair, pooling on his cheek, catching on his eyelashes as he blinks and suddenly he understands artists. 

Philip has always appreciated art in a practical sense (if there is one), as a historian, admired the richness and depth of the maker’s mark on the world, their cry to be seen and remembered. But in that moment Philip understands the need to capture and render, share, immortalise. For the first time, he doesn’t know if his memory is enough to hold Trevor as he is now, smiling softly and extending his arm, his own hand sliding over Philip's torso. He blinks and the feeling fades enough that he can move to accommodate the engineer as he shuffles across the space between them and drapes his body over Philip’s, lips pressing oh so gently to his pulse point before he lays his head over his heart. Philip knows he’ll never be able to capture this, and for a moment he wonders if how much is lost is equal to how much is preserved. If it’s greater. If it’s less. He swallows, turns and kisses Trevor’s temple, decides it doesn’t matter. He has this now, and he is determined to take it for all that it’s worth. 

“Memorising?” 

“What?” 

Trevor shrugs, shifting closer still. “Are you memorising me again?” 

Philip can’t begin to explain, but Trevor’s on the right track so just smiles and says, “yeah,” sliding his arm around his shoulders and holding him close. 

“Me too.” The engineer's body jerks with a soft chuckle, but he presses against Philip anyway, his breathing deep and even and his arm heavy across Philip’s chest. Then, “Can’t believe you’ve just been walking around with this.”

Philip cranes his neck, looking down at where Trevor is staring at his chest. Or rather, his piercing. He almost laughs because of course that’s what Trevor’s stuck on. 

“Doing missions with a ring through your nipple,” he goes on. “I can’t believe I didn’t know.”

“That’d be a weird conversation,” he snorts. “‘Hey Trev, wanna see this random bit of metal through my fucking nipple?’” Because Philip is aware that it’s weird, and that’s part of the reason he hadn’t exactly shown it off. Not that he would have had any excuse to, or wanted to, but still. 

Trevor tsks. “Yeah, but… I don’t know. Does it hurt?” 

“Uh… no?” He thinks for a minute, frowns. “Sometimes, a little. Sometimes I forget it’s there and it gets stuck on stuff.” 

“Jesus. 21st century, man, I’m telling you.” 

“Yeah. I know.”

There’s a beat of silence, then Trevor’s lips are pressing against his chest and he’s whispering, “I still think it’s hot as fuck,” and Philip, despite himself, is smiling. Whatever he sees in other timelines, and whatever else happens, he’s glad he exists here and now. He’s glad he woke up, and he’s glad he’ll wake up tomorrow — and this time it won’t be to an illusion.

Note: guys I'll be real for a sec I have no idea if this is any good. It feels ok right up until butt stuff gets involved so maybe this is a sign that gay porn specifically isn't my calling and I should just stick to YN shit (which is so sad cause I wanna write destiel smut and I wanna write more about these two silly little dudes). I wrote this originally where Philip just sucked Trevor off and they called it a day but it just genuinely did not feel right and it would not leave me alone and it just kept playing out in my head (something) like this so I wrote it and I'm not feeling the itch anymore but what I am feeling is really unsure. Any feedback at all would be so so appreciated (I feel like that ant with the bindle)

[my-castles-crumbling]

Hey cas, i just need to rant

I'm crying rn and i need to tell someone this

Ok this is a stupid way to start this but my duolingos nit working. Fine not a big deal. I went and told my mom and she didnt even let me show it to her and told me to get my dad to help me bc she doesnt know how. So later when my dad was awake i told him the problem and she was there. My dad was trying to figure it out and she asked if she could see my phone. The thing is whenever she asks to see my phone to fix something i end up seeing something and realising i might know how to fix it so i ask if i can have it back to try the thing and sge always yells at me and rips my phone out of my hand and says i have no right to touch it because its not really my phone. So i asked her what she was going to do on it because i think I've tried everything and i don't think it's going to help especially if shes not the one talking to the support people (my dad was). She got mad and said to stop complaining and give her the phone i calmly explained what i just did hiw when she tries to help it isn't helpful and it always ends in fights because she never allows my input (very calmly like i was literally just explaining my thought process and why i think it would do more bad than good) she interuppted my yelling and said that if when people ask to help me and i just call them mean and whatever then people aren't going to want to happen (side note the difference is everyone else who offers me help i am allowed to say no and choose wether or not to explain why as well) and then said if i dont accept help graciously then i don't deserve anything. (I have bad mental health and she knows that to an extent) so now im crying

And i KNOW if i were to bring this up in the future she would say "i dont remember that. That didnt happen. Youre making that up"

Every time i try to communicate how im feeling and why i feel that some things she does or says may be hurtful and damaging she takes it as a personal attack. I've been trying to get better at communicating my needs and feeling but everytime i do she makes me feel like im doing something wrong.

Sometimes i get so overwhelmed I'll start crying out of nowhere or yell or something and she'll either say im being dramatic or literally laugh in my face.

Thank you and sorry for punctuation and spelling mistakes i probably made a ton

Hi!

I can relate to this SO much, omg. My mom is just like this, and it makes you feel so crazy, right?

Please know you have a right to your feelings and if you communicated the way you say you did, you did nothing wrong! Unfortunately it sounds like your mom has some things to work out about not taking things personally.

As someone who also deals with this, I have to say that sometimes picking your battles is key. While in a healthy relationship, sharing your feelings is super important, with a relationship like this, it could just make things worse. So a lot of times I just ask myself- 'is it worth the potential fallout?' sometimes, if it's something really hurtful, it is. But sometimes, I just let her make stupid decisions. SO like in this case, maybe next time you could give her your phone, let her realize she can't help, and then move on to whatever the next step is. Because she's probably not going to listen to you, you know?

It sucks to have to think like this, especially as the child in the relationship, but it might be reality.

Sending love! Naming you duolingo anon

[angeart]

ok so I just finished binge reading (as well as staring in wonder at the beautiful art) basically everything about the fic and I just want to say. THE ART. THE WRITING. THE WORLDBUILDING AND LORE AND PLOT AND CHARACTER DESIGNS. THE EVERYTHING.

Their stories are so tragic and amazing and IM NOT CRYING YOURE CRYING *internally screaming and sobbing* >:C /vvvpos

also I’m super intrigued by the mimic??? Like, ohmygosh they’re such an interesting character and I feel so bad for them but at the same time HOW DARE YOU HURT MY CHILDREN </33333 im wondering if we’re ever gonna get any info on what their natural form (if they have one) looks like?? Or more mimic/hybrid lore, etc? but either way GREAT JOB ARGH this fic >>>>>>

I’m awestruck by both of your amazing skills, keep doing what you’re doing because you’re both gonna go great places, and already have and holy. I’m so invested in this fic lmbo. 🫵🏳️‍🌈🥺

-😸🫶🏼

waaa ohmygosh a new person! hi hello!!

i was confused for a second but i assume by fic you mean hhau! <33 their story truly is full of tragedy (just the way we love it hehe) and i'm so excited to hear you enjoyed looking through all the stuff and are now Invested™️!

also also!! it's great to hear you're interested in the mimic! when me and link made juni, we just had a What If Mimic thought one day and played around with it, and then it kept going and going, until it gained a life of its own. and, honestly, we weren't sure if people were going to like him by the end of his arc. he's complicated, he stepped between grian and scar, and he's made some very bad decisions. which, you know, is a tricky spot to put a character you want people to care about.

it always makes me so happy to know he's looked at with love and curiosity despite all the wrongs he's done rather than seeing his character just negatively and being glad he's gone, so thank u!! <33

juni doesn't know what his original form is. in a way, he doesn't have one anymore. he can't remember how to be himself, so he's just looking for someone to be. someone he can live with being, you know? identity is such a convoluted, twisted concept to him, but he's desperate to grasp it. to be his own, rather than just a thief or a coward or a traitor.

and maybe we'll get to see where that journey takes him. i hope that's something you'd look forward to see :3c

[gunilslaugh]

Hey hey hi hi!

I'm curious on what your interpretation would be on how xdz would react to or help out a s/o who is really shy?

It's something I usually struggle with to where I have to thoroughly plan out conversations or routes in the store in order to avoid that type of social aspect 😔

Literally shaking as I type this out 💀 But I love your work and thank you for your wonderful content. I love your style

Hello hello! I also try to avoid social aspects whenever I leave the house, so don't worry you're not alone. Thank you for loving my work, here's your request!

All members < * _ * >

Summary: Xdinary Heroes' reaction to having a shy significant other.

WC:836

Warning:grammar

photo not mine credits to owner.

Gunil

Gunil is so sweet and caring when it comes to you being shy. When you guys are in a social setting he checks on you to make sure that you’re doing alright. Gunil either has a hand resting on your lower back or is holding your hand in his, so you know you’re not alone. He would order for you whenever the two of you went out. If you want to push yourself to try and overcome your shyness he’ll be right by your side supporting you. Gunil would suggest starting with small steps in order to not stress you out too much. You decided that you wanted to order for yourself Gunil holds your hand reassuringly while you do so. After you succeed he tells you how proud he is of you and that you’re doing a good job.

Jungsu

Jungsu can be shy himself, so he is really understanding about your shyness. Even despite his own shyness he has no problem stepping up to do the talking for you, because he knows it helps put you at ease. If you tell him that you want to work on beating your shyness he will be one hundred percent supportive. Though he reminds you that shyness isn’t a bad thing and makes sure that you want to do it for yourself and not just cause you feel like you have too. Anytime you do any action that requires you to battle your shyness, Jungsu would be so happy for you. Giving you congratulatory and reassuring hugs. He reminds you to go at your own pace though. He worries that you might push yourself too hard. 

Gaon/Jiseok

Jiseok finds your shyness to be endearing. Not the part of it that makes you feel uncomfortable of course, but the way you stand slightly behind him when he’s talking to someone or when you latch your hand onto his sleeve. He thinks you’re just the cutest. Might tease you a little about your shyness, but makes sure you know it’s not with mean intentions. If you tell him that you want to work on becoming less shy he will support you through it the best that he can. His teasing side will go away for a while in order to ensure that he won’t accidentally discourage you. Jiseok will give your hand encouraging squeezes while you make an effort to talk to someone. He will give you the reassurance that you did well and no need to overthink the interaction.

O.de/Seungmin

Seungmin is so attentive to your shyness. Whenever he sees that you’re a bit uncomfortable in a situation he’ll step right in to help you. While being out on dates he’ll keep a watchful eye on you to make sure that you’re doing alright. When you told him about how you wanted to confront your shyness and not let it affect you so much he felt really proud of you right then and there. He knows that making that decision on its own was scary for you. Seungmin is right by your side supporting you. Every little step of improvement you take increases his proudness of you. He will hearten you on days that it’s harder for you, saying it’s ok to take a break, there’s no need to constantly push yourself. 

Junhan/Hyeongjun

Shyness comes in pairs when it comes to you and Hyeongjun. Meaning Hyeongjun completely understands how it feels to deal with being shy. He will step up despite his own shyness to help you feel more comfortable. There’s a person standing in front of the item you need at the store? Hyeongjun will go grab it for you, so you aren’t just awkwardly standing there waiting for the person to move. The two of you work on your shyness together, it helps you bond. Each of you are right there to cheer the other on and celebrate your progress. You both will still have your days where you’d rather stay inside and avoid social interactions. On those days you’ll have stay-in dates. You guys would either watch movies, bake/cook, or do puzzles. Just have a nice relaxing day for yourselves.

Jooyeon

Jooyeon is actually quite shy himself. He can be very awkward when it comes to social interactions with people he’s unfamiliar with. Safe to say that you two can be an awkward pair in public. The both of you have fun laughing about it though, sometimes even finding yourselves to be ridiculous. Jooyeon would help you the best that he can when it comes to helping you with your shyness. It would be something for you two to confront together. He’d stand beside you for moral support, hand interlaced with your own. He’s so genuinely happy for you whenever you complete a task that your shyness usually makes difficult for you. Seeing you work hard to battle your shyness motivates him to work on his own. Would suggest that you two celebrate being brave enough to overcome being shy.

[ritzcuit]

puts my eyeball on you

daryan 21 22 and 23 for the ask game :-]

wow i love aitsf

21; If you're a fic writer and have written for this character, what's your favorite thing to do when you're writing for this character? What's something you don't like? IOM NOT A FIC WRITER............ok bearing in mind that its been Fucking ages since ive written daryan, favorite thing; i indulge in his tsunderisms way too hard and ill never stop. He's such a grumpy baby he hates being in love he hates having feelings... and yet he has them so often.... daryan freaking out over having a crush on someone- and furthermore, trying not to fuck it up somehow, its my favorite forever

disfavorite thing; i suck at making him make bad decisions 😭this is a skill issue on my part, bc it takes a very skilled writer to write a character doing The Wrong Thing. i know it's like, the basis of all conflict and whatnot, but i'm also not good at writing conflict so There. daryan makes so many bad decisions and i am not strong enough to write them

22; If you're a fic reader, what's something you like in fics when it comes to ths character? Something you don't like? something i like; when they actually make him a charact@#%#$ no i can't repeat my answers for datz. Ummmm. i looooove when ppl act rational about his motives. Bc we all know canon's motive fucking sucked and is stupid and makes no sense, so i looove when ppl go "well let's make it make sense then" and end up writing a more sympathetic daryan as a result ...obviously.

i also love when ppl either give him a job at the aquarium post-jail, or bring up the chief's kid as like, a recurring figure/someone daryan saw in the news/someone who visits him in jail and all that. like that is so devastatingly sweet to me

dislike; abusive/bigoted daryan will always be the worst thing ive ever seen cus why are you doing that. All he did was have a pompadour and you hate him. homophobic daryan is allowed but only when he's also being gay so its like silly and not serious. but abusive daryan? get away from me secondary answer is when ppl make him LIKE................. TOO ANGRY? Idk how to explain it, bc he is obviously a very caged shark of a man, and he is angry and i love anger, but some ppl just don't dismount it ever, and it just suuucks. Cus daryan is an angry guy but he's also really coolheaded and a little pathetic in canon and his anger breaks off... and it kind of reads as "only writing daryan for klav angst" and obviously i do not Like That

23; Favorite picture of this character?

ouehughushiwheuhgwoushiuhwishiwsieidOhhis widdle faohege Ohh lookat hhuehgh Pinches his cheeks off and beatshim to deathHis widdle FAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACE

[kaiartz]

@coolprofessorbagelwinner replied to your post “some recent ninjago arts first one is the skulkin...”:

Whoa!! Tell me about your bikers

OK so i don't know where the idea came from here, i just wanted a biker gang, and i don't have as many lady characters as i do dudes-i hyper focus in on fictional men way too easily its a problem-so i figured i should make em all ladies(or woman adjacent) to combat that problem.

Then i designed Vlatka and fell in love LOL

So Vlatka(the long haired one) is the gangs leader, she has no special powers, shes a complete normie. But she knows the criminal underworld of Ninjago City well, and has been a thief and enforcer for years. The gang comes about as a result of her needing to pay off some debt, and a bunch of ladies she's worked with in the past-who all love her-join her to help out.

Then they get a taste for it, and keep going, then they get into a lot of trouble with a true big bad. They arent necessarily "villains" but they start off antagonistic-the ninja don't understand how a biker gang is giving them so much trouble its kind of embarrassing lol

The lady with short hair and the eyepatch is Rory, who is Vlatka's longtime girlfriend :3

She likes guns and wears a mask on the job that allows her one useable eye infrared or x-ray vision-depending on the setting. Vlatka carries a small grappling hook to get around when not on her bike, and relies on seat of her pants decisions when fighting up close.

The other members either only have an initial lego art done, or no art yet as im still working on that ;u;

Next up is Eda

Eda is a bit younger then the others-and on top of that has a very young face, and short build. She serves as the groups main Muscle-because. well. she has a huge battle arm. Eda's entire idea was "BIG ARM GO SLAM" and i think thats rather fun. You're going to notice that i have not put time yet into fleshing out all these characters oops

I feel like Eda would be fun as someone with a bodyguard dad who she hero worshipped and decided "well i can do that job too" and just. replaced an arm to make her more formidable. like a freak.

Lyn is a singer at her employers bar, her playful outside is complimented by a vicious streak of tearing other people down to make sure she keeps this job(gaslight gatekeep girlboss). The microphone trinket around her neck heightens and amplifies her voice to allow sonic screams that tear through walls and shred peoples eardrums.

Janet is where the lady adjacent part comes in, she's nonbirary and prefers she/they pronouns. They serve as the teams "guy in the chair" of sorts, staying behind to monitor Maps and how the team is handling it's missions. Her prosthetic eye allows them gps locating and searching right from in her head! They're a little no nonsense, being a corporate person herself who's actively a higher up in a tech company.

Briona, or Bri as she prefers is the expert on Breaking and Entering, Scaling buildings, and really just getting in and out of tricky spots. She wanted to be an archaeologist in her youth but wanted to keep everything she dug up and took to crime instead. She's eternally miffed to some degree and will swear up and down that she's only in this gang because she "owes" Vlatka. She's a big softy who loves all her teammates underneath.

​The last biker is Torelei, an honest to god Elemental Master from an influential family. It's her uncle the team gets into hot water with. She feels responsible and pulls away emotionally from the others in response. She's the Elemental Master of Reflection. She chooses to take this literally as a Mirror Reflection(and not the other ways it could be interpreted that she's also totally capable of), and it's because of her that the girlies are able to avoid pursuit so easily. She fights with a metal fan.

(thank you for the compliment in the other reply <3)

[chicspo]

this may be very long but i want to explain in depth so u can understand my situation better so im sorry but here goes,

ill give u some info about myself first: im 18 i go to university and i spend most of my time there, i live with my boyfriend of 2 1/2 years. im not a touchy person, especially if im tired and spent my entire day studying. i care so much about certain people but im not good at showing it, and i dont exactly intend on changing this. i show my sister and my parents a lot of love and they know i love them but i can do this bc theyre family and i knoe our bonds are unbreakable no matter what.

ok so heres the situation, i want to be alone. i want to live on my own and im comfortable with not having many friends (i have some really good friends that moved for uni and i text them kinda often and i know our bonds are unbreakable) but im fine with not making more friends if its uncomfortable or whatever. but recently i think my boyfriend has noticed im distancing myself from him, unintentionally, but i care a lot about how i do in university so im dedicating myself to it. i dont ever initiate anything with him (sexually or just touchy in general) but i never really have to be honest. yes at the beginning of our relationship i was younger and more carefree and our relationship was fun to me so i was more touchy but never very touchy.

he told me how he feels like i dont love him bc i never try to start anything with him and im always at school and i was kind of cold to be honest i told him i love him bc i dont want to break his heart and it is true, i do love him and i care so much about him but i dont want to be either him anymore. its just so hard bc we live together and we have cats together and gis family loves me i’ve visited them in florida (i live in canada) twice and we’re planning on visiting them again for Christmas. i dont know what he would do if we broke up. he would br incredibly hesrt broken and im genuinely worried he would k1ll himself bc his step dad is abusive and both his parents drink all the time and dont rlly care about him, he doesnt have many friends, just one that is always at work so he never sees him, and he has an online job so he never goes out. he does a lot for me tho. he cleans the apartment A LOT whenever im gone (im a clean freak) and he tells me im the most beautiful girl in the world, he touches me and hugs me and kisses me, tells me he missed me so much, tells me im his world and that he wants to look after me when we’re old, that he wants to have a daughter with me, he buys the groceries, cat stuff, hr buys me little random things he thinks ill like. he’s honestly a really amazing boyfriend. but i dont want a boyfriend. i cant tell him that tho. i want to talk to my mom about this and ask her advice but she thinks hes a low life bc he has an online job and doesnt go out, he has chronic back pain and has to take medication and he smokes weed everyday. she knows he takes really good care of me tho.

my sisters planning on moving in with us when shes done highschool (this school year) and i want to just live with her. i dont know what to do bc we have such a concrete relationship thats more serious than anything and we care about eachother so much. he loves out apartment, its the first place hes lived without an abusive family and hes so happy. im in such a bad situation in my head rn.

i understand ur concern but u always have to put urself first. and i think with having to asking me or ur mom or anyone else all ur looking for is for someone to validate ur feelings. u dont need anyones approval for this. u dont want to be with him then dont be. ur not his mom. the most u can do for him is have a talk with him, when u tell him ur decision, and try to orient him in life the best u can. however thats none of ur responsibility. if u fear he has no other relationships other than the one u two have u can tell him that. if u believe he should get a different job tell him. his life seems pretty bleak and lonely, and he copes by focusing on you. that isnt healthy. he should also look out for himself first and he should have bigger goals in life. a future with you or any other woman isnt a goal or achievement. all he does by telling u he wants to take care of u when u get old or have kids together is mentally trap u so you wont leave him. he cant be that weak. he needs to learn to be independent. and u already seem more than capable and independent, so if u want to live alone or with ur sister u should do so. its great that ur so focused on ur school. its ur life u should do with it what u want

[thelostgirl21]

So, I just stumbled upon an article that spoils the whole Season 3 part 2 of "The Witcher" (although it hasn't even been released here yet), and

I am... not okay... at all...

HUGE SPOILERS AFTER THE CUT... YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED...

Ok, first off, I was 100% expecting Dijkstra and Philippa to decide to get rid of Vizimir (given that he was becoming a liability), and replace him with Radovid.

The moment that the King started making decisions that didn't fit with Dijkstra's vision of what was best for Redania, I was absolutely certain that they'd find the idea of putting that spare on the throne more and more appealing.

And I'd read that, in the books, Vizimir was killed (by Philippa, that betrays Dijkstra, in a sense, by hiding her involvement in Vizimir's murder), and the country thus becomes ruled by a Regency Council lead by Dijkstra.

So, I'm not sure exactly what this will mean for this version of King Radovid.

From what I understand, officially it's Queen Hedwig, Vizimir's widow that inherits the Kingdom.

However, the Queen is too devastated and indisposed to fulfil those duties, and thus its the Regency Council that remains in charge until Radovid (who is 13 at the time) eventually retakes his Kingdom.

The book doesn't turn him into a villain. It says he gets even with those that humiliated him and his mother (whatever that is supposed to imply) and then passes in history as "Radovid the Stern". i.e.

Radovid already knows that these two had Queen Hedwig killed, and would likely at least suspect that they were behind his brother's murder as well... that is, if they don't outright tell him!

So, I really have a bad feeling about this...

Because I'm guessing they would have been completely stupid to give him the crown, if there was any chance for Radovid, at all, to hold them accountable of their crimes (I'm thinking double Regicide is pretty bad, as far as murders go...).

Like I'm suddenly considering that all of the Palace's military forces and key politicians are actually loyal to Dijkstra and Philippa rather than the King, and Radovid is essentially put into a situation where he can either:

A) Collaborate with Dijkstra and Philippa in ruling the country. i.e. Offer his ideas and input, but nevertheless allow them to make the final decisions. Be their advisers, but otherwise "King" in name and appearances only.

Or

B) Join his brother and his darling Queen Hedwig in death, with them finding someone else to rule the country that would be more receptive to their way of doing things.

Maybe King Radovid can wind up being cunning enough to outsmart them, at some point, and become the true ruler of the country...

But the reason why I'm NOT OKAY, is that Radovid was apparently planning to go after Jaskier to help him and Geralt find Ciri!!!

But, unless they are planning to get rid of Dijkstra and Philippa early on in Radovid's reign, it seems that King Radovid is meant to replace Queen Hedwig as Dijkstra and Philippa's "puppet" in the wake of Vizimir's assassination, while also having the potential to oppose them/take over later on.

And I'm guessing that the show runner might have been uncomfortable with the character of Hedwig being portrayed as basically incapable of taking care of the Kingdom or even her son in the wake of her husband's death.

Sure, the show chopped off her head! But she was portrayed as someone that was organizing political meetings in secret between the Nilfgard Empire and Redania, and getting involved in politics alongside her husband, at least!

Not so lost following his death that she couldn't function!

So, it almost seems like they chose to replace Hedwig with Radovid, to spice things up for Dijkstra and Philippa instead.

That means that Radovid was honest about his feelings for Jaskier, and wanted to be with him.

And I've heard - from someone that saw episode 6 in advance - that Jaskier gets totally heartbroken because something happens that makes him believe that Radovid was only pretending to like him.

So, if Radovid was prevented from chasing after Jaskier due to a slight case of "suddenly becoming King", then he wouldn't have been able to let him know that he was being sincere, that he was romantically falling in love with him, and that he had planned to come find him to help him and Geralt get Ciri back.

I mean, Joey did warn us about their romance having a "star-crossed lovers" edge to it... But whyyyyyyyyyy?!?!?

(At the same time, I'm so relieved that it appears that Radovid never wanted to break our poor puppy's heart...)

[kingofsummer93]

Ex Luna Scientia

Summary:

Lucien Vanserra, seventh son of the Minister for Magic, is as loved by his peers as he is hated by his family. But behind the charm and irreverence hides a secret, as dark and menacing as the scar on his face.

Elain Archeron, middle sister in a trio of muggle-born witches, has only one wish: for someone to truly see her. Because when she sleeps at night, she can see it all.

Or- an Elucien at Hogwarts AU.

Chapter 15: The Pensieve

Ao3 Masterlist

Elain hesitated in the corridor outside the headmaster’s office, staring at the stone gargoyle that guarded the moving spiral staircase. All the bravado she’d previously felt about her decision had vanished the moment she’d arrived here, and she’d been in a staring match with the gargoyle ever since.

A horrible thought occurred to Elain. What if the headmaster didn’t believe her? Her vision had shown the giants’ camp, but it hadn’t shown where it was. Elain was not a good liar, especially under stress. She’d fold like a house of cards if he started interrogating her.

This was a bad idea. It was a very, very bad idea. Suddenly the thought of going up those stairs and looking Professor Spell-Cleaver in the eye made her want to vomit.

“It ain’t going to move on its own, deary,” tutted a ghost as it drifted out the stone wall behind her. Elain jumped as if she’d been caught doing something illicit.

That was her other problem. She’d never been inside the headmaster’s office, and therefore had no idea how to actually get up there.

“Well? If you want to go up, I’d try a password, if I were you,” the ghost continued, floating down the corridor away from her.

“What’s the password?” Elain called to the pearlescent figure.

“The headmaster has a sweet tooth, you know!” the ghost replied before drifting up into the ceiling.

Elain returned her attention to the stone gargoyle. She could have sworn that its features had twisted slightly and that it was now smirking at her.

“Um. Chocolate frogs?” The stone gargoyle stared back at her, unmoving. “Cauldron Cakes?”

Elain glanced around the corridor, making sure nobody was watching her make a fool of herself.

“Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans? Fizzing Whizzbees?”

Elain gasped as the stone gargoyle finally moved. To her dismay, however, it only stretched out its ugly mouth into a yawn before settling back into what was definitely a smirk.

“You ugly piece of…” Elain caught herself. Making an enemy of the gargoyle was probably not in her best interest.

“Let’s see. Sugar Quills? Liquorice Wands? Um…treacle tart? Sticky toffee pudding?” She tilted her head, considering. “Sour patch kids?”

The look the gargoyle gave her was nothing short of scathing. Elain held up her hands. “Ok, ok, no muggle candy.” She resisted the urge to turn around and leave. She’d made up her mind and gathered enough courage to come here- she was either getting up those stairs or waiting here until Professor Spell-Cleaver came down for supper. “Acid pops. Fudge Flies. Blood flavoured lollipops. Cockroach Clusters.”

She trailed off as the gargoyle moved again. It stretched out its wings and stepped to the side, revealing an ornately carved wooden door.

“Actually? Cockroach Clusters?” Elain asked incredulously. The gargoyle lifted its shoulders in a shrug.

Elain quickly stepped to the door before its guardian decided to change its mind. Behind it curved a stone staircase, and as soon as she stepped onto the bottommost step it began to spiral upwards on its own. When she reached the top she was faced by a set of oaken double doors. To her surprise they lay slightly ajar, and she shuffled awkwardly for a moment, unsure how to announce herself.

“Professor Spell-Cleaver?” she called tentatively, poking her nose towards the crack in the doors. The headmaster’s office was silent.

Elain knocked on the door, feeling supremely foolish. What if she’d gone through all that indecision only for the headmaster to not be in his office? There was no way she’d gather up the strength to come back again. But then again, she couldn’t just wait here…

She was gazing back and forth between the door and the stairs behind her when a slight noise from inside made her freeze. It was a plaintive sound, almost like a whine. Elain pressed her ears to the gap in the doors, feeling more and more like she was intruding. She heard it again, louder this time. It sounded like a cry of pain, sharp and shrill, like an animal.

“Um. Professor?” Elain’s own voice had risen an octave, her palms going clammy. She should definitely leave and come back later, but…

She leaned closer still, trying to make out any noise from inside the office, when she lost her footing and stumbled into the door. It swung wide open, revealing the headmaster’s office.

“Oh, sorry!” Elain stuttered, heart racing. “I didn’t mean to, I-” She cut herself off as she realized the headmaster’s office was empty. Her shoulders slumped as she released a nervous breath. Maybe this was a sign that this was a bad idea. She must have imagined that strange noise.

She took a step towards the spiral stairs, which were now moving in the opposite direction, but stopped short when the shrill cry pierced the air again. Something about it tugged at Elain’s heartstrings, enough so that she took a tiny step inside the headmaster’s office.

It was a bright, circular room lined with high windows. Books filled the shelves from floor to ceiling, some so ancient that their spines were illegible. The headmaster’s desk, a massive slab of polished oak, was surrounded by paintings of the previous headmasters and headmistresses, half of whom were dozing in their frames while the other half peered at her curiously. Spindly little tables littered around the room, filled with metal objects and instruments the likes of which she had never seen before. Some spun on their own, others emitted puffs of smoke, and one particularly ominous object rattled ominously.

But what caught Elain’s interest the most was the model of the solar system floating in midair near the center of the room. It was made of what looked like solid gold, with intricate carvings and panels. As she approached it Elain noticed that the planets made a faint whirring and clicking noise as they rotated on their orbits. There was something vaguely familiar about it, and it wasn’t until she bent to examine one of the tiny moons around Jupiter that she realized. Lucien’s golden eye was carved the same way, and it made the same faint noise. Merlin knew she’d spent enough time staring at it to recognize it anywhere.

A ruffling noise made her jump, and she had to catch herself before she went toppling into the floating planets. She scanned the empty office, preparing to launch into excuses as to why she was there, and gasped in delight when she found the source of the noise.

It was a bird, as big as a peacock, balanced on a high perch near the door. Its plumage was vibrantly red, with a long tail tinged with yellow and gold that reached almost to the floor. A phoenix. As Elain gaped at it in delight it emitted that plaintive cry again, ruffling its feathers in what looked like distress. She rushed to its side, looking around the office in alarm.

“What’s the matter, love?”

The bird raised its head and fixed its onyx eyes on her, as if it understood her. There was something ancient and knowing in those eyes, and it made the hair rise on the back of her neck.

Elain reached out a hand tentatively, but the bird recoiled from her, shrinking into itself.

“Are you hurt?” She might have felt silly talking to any other pet, but something about the phoenix made her think he understood her. But there was no injury that Elain could see, and she glanced around the empty office, unsure what to do.

The bird kept shrinking in front of her eyes, and she gasped in alarm as smoke started drifting out of its striking plumage. The bird let out another weak cry, and before Elain could react it had lit up in a sudden, violent burst of flames.

She stumbled back from the blaze, heart racing in shock. Was this normal for phoenixes? She couldn’t think beyond the panic of not only getting caught snooping in the headmaster’s office, but of him finding her here with his pet on fire.

“Aguamenti!” she exclaimed, pointing her wand at the flaming bird. “Aguamenti, AGUAMENTI!”

A jet of clear, cool water shot from her wand, turning to steam as it hit the flames. But it was too late- the flames had receded as quickly as they had appeared, leaving behind a pile of steaming, soaked ash.

Elain’s heart was still racing as she stared at the bird’s remains, mouth hanging open in shock.

“Pity, isn’t it?” a deep voice tutted behind her.

Elain whirled and froze, mortified, as she spotted the headmaster, casually leaning against the oak double doors. How long had he been standing there?

“Professor!” she gasped. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude but your door was open, and…your bird! I tried to put it out, but…” She trailed off as she realized the headmaster was smiling faintly.

“You caught him on a bad day,” he said, strolling into the room. “He’s usually quite handsome.” The oak doors shut behind him silently. He was wearing robes of a vibrant saffron color, embellished at the cuffs and hem in intricate gold embroidery. On anyone else it might have looked garish, but on Professor Spell-Cleaver it made him look like a walking ray of sunshine.

“I’m so sorry,” she stammered. “I didn’t know what to do, he just…burst into flames!”

The headmaster winced slightly, though his amber eyes sparkled with humor. Elain couldn’t understand it.

“I'm very sorry you had to witness that. I can see why that would have alarmed you.” He inclined his head towards the perch. “He’s not always this dramatic about it.”

Dramatic? He considered his pet going up in flames to be dramatic?

Elain turned back to the perch, but where previously there had only been a pile of sodden ash, there was now a tiny baby bird, covered in snow-white downy feathers. It opened and closed its beak, struggling to stretch its tiny wings.

“When phoenixes die they are reborn from their own ashes. As I said, pity you caught him at the end of the cycle.”

“Will he be alright?” Elain asked, extending a hand towards the bird. It snapped its little beak weakly, looking in her direction with unseeing eyes.

“Oh yes!” Professor Spell-Cleaver said cheerfully. “In a few days he should be back to his flamboyant self. You are free to come by and see him, if you like.”

Elain wrung her hands sheepishly, though the headmaster’s tone was still nothing but friendly. “I apologize for barging in, I didn’t mean to snoop…”

Helion shrugged, winking at her teasingly. “One shouldn’t leave their door open if they don’t want their offices snooped through. It’s my fault, really.”

Elain didn’t quite know how to respond to that, so she followed wordlessly as the headmaster crossed the room and took a seat behind the great oak desk. She couldn’t help another glance at the solar system as she walked by. The soft whirring and clicking of the planets was so familiar that it soothed her nerves slightly.

“Beautiful, if I do say so myself,” Helion said, noticing the direction of her gaze. “One of my favorite inventions.”

Elain blinked in surprise. “You made that?”

The headmaster smiled at her kindly, as if he knew exactly what it reminded her of. “I find there’s much to learn from the movement of the planets. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“I met a centaur in the Forbidden Forest during the first trial who said something very similar,” Elain said, smiling at the memory of the snowy-haired centaur.

Helion’s eyes brightened. “Did you really? How delightful. Strange creatures, centaurs. They don’t usually like to approach humans.”

“He told me…” Elain felt herself flush at the absurdity of what she was about to say. “He told me the stars shone bright upon me.”

He was silent for a long moment, his gaze so piercing and searching that she squirmed. “That they do, Miss Archeron,” he said finally with a gentle smile.

Elain had to look away from that gaze. She stared over the headmaster’s shoulder, at the portraits of the former headmasters and headmistresses, most of which were not even pretending to be asleep as they listened in to their conversation.

The headmaster steepled his fingers and continued peering at her curiously, though not unkindly. “Though I do love the company, should I assume there’s a reason for your visit, Ms Archeron?”

Elain swallowed, her nerves returning full force. The headmaster indicated for her to take a seat, and as she sat she promptly stuck her hands underneath her legs to hide their trembling.

“I, um.” She cleared her throat, shuffling in her seat. “Speaking of centaurs and…strange powers. I don’t really know how to say this…”

Silence stretched on as Helion continued to smile at her encouragingly. Oh god, what was she doing here? She had a sudden urge to jump to her feet and bolt from the room. They’d find another way to let the headmaster know about the giants. She simply couldn’t do it, she couldn’t just blurt it out…

“Sometimes,” Helion started, interrupting her spiraling thoughts, “I find it can be easier to show than to tell.”

Elain stared at him, uncomprehending. Was he suggesting reading her mind? She knew about Legilimency, though she had never heard of anyone at Hogwarts having such powers. Though if anyone at the school would have mastered such an art it would have been Helion.

He smiled again, as if he had indeed read her mind. “If you’ll indulge an old man, I can show you what I mean.”

Elain couldn’t help a small laugh at his self-derision. The way Helion referred to himself made him seem like he was almost a century old, though to Elain he didn’t look older than forty. If she had to guess she’d say his real age was somewhere in between.

“Ok…” she said, tentatively.

Helion suddenly got to his feet and walked to one of the cabinets filled with strange objects that lined his walls. Elain looked with rising curiosity as he picked up a large stone basin and carried it back to his desk.

The basin looked ancient, perhaps as old as the tattered Sorting Hat that sat on a high shelf behind the headmaster’s desk. The rim was carved with ancient runes and symbols, and it was unlike any cauldron she’d ever seen.

“This,” the headmaster said, as if anticipating her question, “is a Pensieve.”

Elain peered into the basin curiously and was surprised to find that it was full of a swirling, silvery substance. It was somehow more solid than air, but less substantial than water. Around and around it swirled and reformed, as if stirred by an invisible hand.

“Professor? What is that…stuff?”

“Ahh. Those are my memories,” the headmaster replied, chuckling lightly.

“Your…” Elain looked deeper into the basin as images flashed within the swirling liquid, too quickly for her to decipher what they showed.

“Would you mind if I showed you one in particular?” Helion asked.

Even before she answered he had pressed the tip of his wand to his temple. As he pulled it away a long string of the silvery substance followed, before drifting down into the pensieve.

“Oh! Yes. I mean, of course, Professor.”

She wasn’t sure what he could possibly want to show her, but she much preferred this to having him look into her mind. Even if that was why she had come here in the first place.

The sliver of memory swirled and then settled, until murky shapes and colors appeared in the mist.

“After you.” He indicated the basin with a wave of his hand.

Elain looked deeper into the pensieve, feeling slightly foolish. “Um, Professor? I can’t see-“

Even as she said it she leaned in a little closer, until the swirling substance tickled her nose. And then the world lurched, and she was falling- falling through those swirls that were neither air nor liquid. She didn’t even have time to scream before her feet hit solid ground again, and she lurched to keep herself upright.

“Sorry, I think I lost my balance, I….” She trailed off as she glanced around her. She was not in Professor Spell-Cleaver’s office anymore.

The room was cavernous, so high that Elain could barely see where the walls ended and where the ceiling started. It looked like a library of sorts, but not the kind that she had ever seen before. All around her stood stacks upon stacks of shelves, all filled not with books, but with strange, silvery white orbs.

She barely had time to register where she was before Professor Spell-Cleaver appeared beside her, completely unruffled.

“Sorry about that,” he said jovially at the look on her face. “I should have warned you, the first time can be a bit disorienting.”

“Professor…where are we, exactly?”

“This,” he replied, gesturing to the room around him, “is the Hall of Prophecy. Or, more specifically, my memory of it.”

Elain felt her blood turn to ice. This couldn’t be a coincidence, but how could he know?

“Ahh,” the headmaster continued. “Here I am.”

Elain followed the direction of his gaze and gaped as another Professor Spell-Cleaver emerged from one of the rows of stacks. He looked slightly younger, with a bit less silver weaving through his dark hair, but otherwise looked much the same.

“I’m sorry, it seems I’ve once again gotten ahead of myself without proper explanation. You should really chide me next time.”

Elain suppressed a giggle, despite the strange circumstances. Trust Helion to make even a romp through his own memories seem normal. He started down the main passageway after the other Helion, and Elain followed suit, her head on a swivel between new and old Helion.

“The Hall of Prophecy is part of the department of Mysteries at the Ministry for Magic. It is, therefore, top-secret.” He said it cheerfully, though his warning was crystal clear. This wasn’t something she would be allowed to tell people about.

A mixture of dread and excitement sent her heart racing as she looked around the cavernous space and the orbs filling the shelves. Could they really all be…

“Professor?” she asked in a small voice. “What are those…” she gulped. “Those…orbs, on the shelves?”

He smiled kindly. “Those are prophecies, my dear.”

Her steps faltered, and he reached out a hand to steady her. “I had quite a similar reaction the first time I saw it. I can only imagine how you must feel.” His amber eyes were so piercing and full of knowledge that Elain couldn’t hold his gaze.

“Why did you want to show this to me? If it’s so secret, I mean?” How did you know? was the question she really wanted to ask, but she couldn’t seem to force her tongue to form the words.

Helion chuckled lightly. “Like I said, sometimes it’s easier to show than to say.”

She followed him silently as they followed the younger Helion deeper and deeper into the stacks. Elain didn’t dare ask anything else, not until she saw why he had brought her here.

There were no windows in the hall, the only light coming from those silvery orbs. The substance inside looked eerily similar to the memories inside the Pensieve- not quite liquid, not quite air, swirling like gas but glowing with an internal light.

Their steps were silent on the marble floor- it made sense, she guessed, considering they were nothing but ghosts here. As they passed, some of the orbs seemed to whisper at her, the noise like a buzzing, hissing sound that made her shiver. If this was a mere memory she couldn’t imagine how strange this place would feel in person.

“Professor?” she whispered. “Why are the…prophecies making that noise?”

Helion turned to her sharply. “What noise?”

Elain clamped her mouth shut and stared straight ahead. Thankfully Helion didn’t press her. The silence stretched on as they walked deeper and deeper into the endless stacks of prophecies. Just when Elain was about to ask what it was that the headmaster wanted to show her, his younger self turned down one of the many rows jutting out from the main aisle. She didn’t know how he could possibly know where he was going- there were no signs anywhere, no apparent order to the prophecies. There were only tiny metal plaques underneath each orb, some so old that the engravings on them were completely worn off.

But the younger headmaster seemed to know where he was going, and Elain and present-day Helion followed him silently. They walked so deep down the row that she started to feel claustrophobic, as if the weight of all those prophecies around her was pressing down on her.

The younger Helion came to a stop in front of a stretch of shelf that to Elain looked much the same as the rest.

“This,” the headmaster next to her said, making her jump, “is what I wanted to show you.”

Elain looked closer at the shelf, stepping so close to the memory of Helion that she shivered. But the headmaster didn’t so much as glance at her direction, as he continued to stare at the orbs in front of him. His mouth was set in a grim line, his eyebrows knitted together in apparent displeasure.

Elain turned to look at the orbs on the shelf, and couldn’t keep herself from gasping out loud. She backed away from the shelf as if she’d been burned.

The plaques underneath these orbs were recent enough that the writing underneath them was perfectly legible. They all indicated a date, as well as a single name.

Her name.

“What…How…” She whirled to face the headmaster standing silently behind her. He was perfectly still, staring at the shelf with the same displeasure as his younger self.

Elain turned back to the orbs, her mind reeling to comprehend what she was seeing. Dozens of orbs, all marked with a date and her name. Some were recent, others dated from when she was just a child.

But the thing that caught her attention was the spot directly in front of the younger Helion’s eyes. Where there should have been an orb was a blank space on the shelf, dated and marked with her name like the others. As if a prophecy had been taken.

“I think we’ve seen quite enough,” Helion murmured behind her.

Before Elain could protest she felt a gentle hand wrap around her elbow and tug her upwards. The world tilted again- up was down, down was up, like a hook had embedded itself in her navel was jerking up through the world.

And then the world righted itself, and she was back at Hogwarts, in the warmth of the Headmaster’s office. She jumped to her feet, her mouth opening and closing like a fish.

“What…” It came out more like a croak, and Elain made herself sit down and breathe. “What…”

Helion snapped his fingers, and a teapot and cups appeared on his desk. The casual grace with which the Headmaster performed magic would usually have impressed her, but she was too stunned to notice.

Helion poured her a cup and set it in front of her, and Elain gulped down the tea greedily. With every mouthful her nerves settled until her heart had settled back to a steady rhythm.

“The Hall of Prophecies contains every prophecy ever made by a Seer. It’s unknown how far back they go, but it’s a safe bet that the Hall has been there since the inception of the British Ministry for Magic.”

Elain’s stomach lurched, and she poured herself another cup with a shaking hand. When she had downed her second cup a pleasant numb started spreading through her. She didn’t know what sort of tonic was in the tea, and didn’t care.

“Its existence is a secret, as I already told you. Hence its presence in the Department of Mysteries.”

Elain had so many questions that she didn’t quite know where to begin. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to meet Helion’s gaze. “How did you know?” she whispered.

If the headmaster knew, then perhaps others knew as well. Including the person who had attacked her during the first trial.

The headmaster waved a hand, and a soft noise behind her intensified. It was the golden model of the solar system, except the planets weren’t turning gently as before. They were shifting, the intricate panels sliding and reforming as the floating planets spun through the air. Golden light was reflecting on the ceiling overhead, shapes and runes that she couldn’t make sense of.

“There are many who consider astrology to be nonsense. But the stars hold a certain knowledge that humans do not. Just like Seers hold knowledge and magic that normal wizards and witches do not. The two are intricately linked.”

Elain was struggling to keep up with what Helion was telling her. “How did you know that’s what I wanted to talk to you about?”

He shrugged, his eyes twinkling. “I didn’t. Call it a lucky guess, or intuition. But I figured it was time I told you. Keeping a secret like that can be isolating.”

Elain’s throat tightened at that.

“Mr Archeron,” he continued gently. “I hope you know you have my discretion, whatever it is you wished to tell me.”

She bit her lip to refrain from the torrent that she suddenly wanted to unleash on him. Kallias’s warning, the spells fired at her during the first Trial.

“In your memory. There was an orb…a prophecy missing.” She was stalling now, but she was also genuinely curious.

“Indeed,” Helion said, frowning. “I had heard whisperings that prophecies were being tampered with, and unfortunately it turned out to be true.”

“You mean…someone stole it?”

“Stole it, or perhaps took it thinking it belonged to them. You see, a prophecy can only be taken by the person whom it concerns, or the Seer it originated from.”

Elain gaped at him. “You mean…you mean to say that I might have seen something about…someone, and they could have gone into the Hall of Prophecy and taken it?”

Helion looked at her for a long beat, his expression now tense. “I’m afraid I think that’s exactly what happened.”

“But…why?”

“Why did you come to speak with me today?” he prompted. When she didn’t say anything, he leaned forward, piercing her with that all-knowing gaze. “Is it because you saw something that you felt I should know about?”

“Something like that, yes.”

“The kind of information that could be dangerous in the wrong hands?”

Elain stared at him in horror. “But…I can’t have…I would remember…” Wouldn’t she? Surely she would remember if she had seen something so potentially dangerous that someone would want to break into a top-secret vault to steal the information? “How do the visions come to you?” the headmaster asked gently.

“Dreams, mostly,” Elain mumbled, suddenly embarrassed. After so many years of keeping her powers secret it felt like an invasion to discuss them in such detail. “Although I’ve seen things in the crystal ball, too, but that’s different. Less defined, more hazy.”

“More up to interpretation,” Helion supplied.

“Yes.”

“And do you always remember all your dreams? Every night, every single one?”

Silence fell, broken only by the puffing and whirring of Helion’s strange metallic instruments, and by the discreet shuffling and coughing of the inhabitants of the paintings behind his desk.

“No,” she murmured. “I guess I don’t.” She felt like she was falling- like a pit was opening in front of her and she was teetering on the edge.

All her life she’d assumed her visions were mostly innocent- or at least, not valuable enough to risk sharing her secret. But this- the rows and rows of orbs, most of which she would never remember…

She felt a sudden, overwhelming urge to cry.

“I apologize. It seems I’ve given you more questions than answers. But if there’s anything else you’d like to share with me, I will always listen.”

Elain took a deep, shaky breath. She’d come this far, she might as well tell him the rest. “Professor? What do you know about giants?”

The headmaster froze, a slight widening of his amber eyes the only sign that he was at all surprised by what she said. “That’s a very vague question, Miss Archeron,” he replied carefully.

“It’s just- they’re supposed to be extinct in Britain, aren’t they? But, the other day, I thought I saw something in the crystal ball during Divination lesson. It looked like- well, I thought it was trolls at first, but I’m pretty sure it was giants. And…well, it looked like they were in the mountains near Hogsmeade….” The words rushed out of her in a torrent, and when she finished she realized how absurd it all sounded.

Something flashed through the headmaster’s gaze, a brief flash of something that looked suspiciously like fear. But it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by a weary heaviness. The headmaster was silent for another long moment, and when he spoke it was in the same careful tone as before.

“I thought your visions through the crystal ball were very vague?”

Shit. “I mean, yes, but…sometimes I can still see…”

The headmaster lifted up a hand to silence her. “My apologies again. I am not doubting you. Your power is not one that is black and white. I simply wish to understand, so I can help you understand as well.”

Elain nodded mutely, feeling the weight of her white lie with every passing second she remained under his scrutinous gaze.

“To answer your question,” he continued. “Giants were gone, yes. For a long time.”

Elain started in shock. “They were? You mean…they’re back?”

“Whether they are back or passing through remains to be seen.”

“Does the Ministry know?”

Helion’s mouth pressed into a thin line of displeasure. “You do not need to worry about such things, Elain. I assure you the matter is being handled and that there is no threat to the school.”

“But-“

“Ms Archeron,” he cut her off, his tone still kind but firm. “I’m sorry that I am unable to answer your questions on this matter. If it’s any consolation, you have my word that as long as they remain within the grounds, my students will always be safe at Hogwarts.”

Something about the wording gave her pause. He was giving her that look again, the one that made her feel like she was being inspected by a searchlight with the power of a thousand suns.

“I really am sorry, Ms Archeron. You shouldn’t have to concern yourself with such matters. But I want you to know that you can always talk to me. Secrets are a heavy burden to bear. I would ask only one thing of you. I’m sure you will understand that everything we spoke of today is highly classified. That being said, if you must unburden yourself, do try to be selective with those you share it with.”

Elain gulped. The humor was back in his eyes, and though the warning was gentle it also left no room for argument.

She didn’t know what to make sense of it all. Of what that missing prophecy could mean, or who else might have learned about her powers. Or what those giants were doing near Hogwarts, and why Professor Spell-Cleaver didn’t seem that surprised by the news.

What she did know with sudden clarity was that she needed to find a way inside the Hall of Prophecy. And she knew just who could be reckless enough to help her.

But first, she’d have to make it through the second Trial in one piece.

[stuck-in-the-ghost-zone]

OKAY. SO. i'm going to be directly pulling from the wiki + ttrpg text & abridging some of it. here we go. little bowl of seeds for u!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

so. the circumstances leading up to the trigger event influence the power granted. half the state of mind, and half the scenario that they're in. taylor was in a situation where she was isolated, blind and powerless and felt like everyone was conspiring against her-- either directly (planning for fucking weeks to get her into the locker) or indirectly (ignoring her inside, not letting her out) etc. she triggered as a master, someone who can see everything and control so many things so exactly and specifically and she has something (her bugs) there for her, in some sort of fucked up companionship, in response to that. the overview is as follows!!

^this is the gist of it!!!!!! the ttrpg also goes into more in depth on many of these-- i won't send u 1 billion screenshots Now (spoilers in the gdocs u r Not allowed in there) but. here r a couple irt the nhw for flavor :}

also holy shit now i can be so so so fucking annoying about Why i gave the nhw the powers i did... i kind of got into it w/ the trigger events. but like. still..!!!!!!!!!!!

OHHHHHHHH MY GOD. HOLY SHIT. YEAH UR RIGHT I WAS THINKING ABOUT IT FROM THE WRONG ANGLE. OH MY GODDDD DUDE . THIS IS SO FUCKING TASTY. MY MIND IS GOING ABT A BILLION MILES AN HOUR RNNNN ohhhh god this got so long i gotta out it under a cut. im having so many thoughts dude

i would LOVE the essay about each of the nhw triggers btw. i can SEE your vision i can FEEL your vision. william feeling so fucking isolated in his hometown leading him to have master powers. his. idk weird relationship with ghosts/monsters/death coupled with his EXTREME near death experience manifesting in his breaker powers. UGHHH thats so good. TRUMP POWERS BEING CAUSED BY DIRECT INVOLVEMENT BY ANOTHER CAPE IN THE TRIGGER EVENT. VIRION WATCHING HIS DAD SLAUGHTER THEIR ENTIRE PARTY/FRIENDS/FAMILY. dakota being lost in the crowd after losing his parents, knowing something bad is happening but not knowing exactly what, catching glimpses of the fight and the blood and the horror but still not fully understanding, not knowing how or if he'll ever find his parents again and that manifesting in his thinker powers. also that zone/quick/farsight thing holy FUCK thats so failsafe. "loss of autonomy, being situationally restricted/overwhelmed" manifesting as sensing people in his immediate environment. "results from tunnel vision in views/character, incorrect perceptions" (can we say dakota damascus hero worship!) manifesting as powers that go beyond the usual senses (fear/pain sense!). i honestly think the Quick part would come more from his second trigger, which is what gives him the Mover powers right? "panic, frantic inability to solve problems, rushed errors" <- not being able to catch katori in time, making the split second decision to fall after her, manifesting as his mover/thinker powers. being able to make those split second decisions midair and Actually Accomplish them, but by the time he triggered they were already too close to the ground and he couldnt save her anyway (<< and theres the tragic irony)

ohhhh i didnt mean to go off so much about failsafe but that just gave me a lot of feelings about his triggers :( ANYWAY THINKING ABOUT ASHE NOW. GOD. OKAY. right now. how are we feeling about Shaker/Breaker. ok ok im having a lot of thoughts here bear with me. idk if u have a more clear trigger for him in mind but the thing ive been thinking about all day since u sent me that first ask is. the call going out to evacuate because simurgh is coming. ashe's mom has to go get him from school and its a mad rush with all of the other parents trying to do the same thing. instead of immediately leaving, they go back to the house for some reason (she forgot something important? maybe her phone so she had no way to contact mark/see if he was okay? idk i havent worked that out yet.) and shes just. running around frantically grabbing things getting ready to leave and ashe is standing in the doorway not knowing what to do or how to help. and its like an earthquake hits. (i just keep thinking about chris's death and how fucking. sudden and brutal it was it has stuck with me for some reason). something big or heavy falls on her and just . immediately crushes either one or both of her legs. totally unable to move. and ashe starts panicking and shes obviously panicking but trying so hard to keep it together not to scare ashe anymore than he already is. and she tells him to go, tells him to follow the other people who are leaving, maybe find one of their neighbors and go with them. (side note here. if she got her phone. i want her to text mark here and tell him to come home. something really short and terrifying and panic inducing that breaks him out of his hesitation. "need help, come home, cant leave" something like that. worlds most miserable man these are the last words he has of his wife aha) ashe doesnt want to leave his mom! hes just a kid he doesnt know what the endbringers are or why theyre so scary or why THIS ONE IN PARTICULAR is so bad!! she keeps telling him not to worry, that dad will meet him there when hes safe, ashe immediately asks something like "but what about you?" and its very. disney movie parent dying level of tragedy. he triggers when she eventually cant hold it together anymore either from the pain or the panic and just starts. screaming at him. ashe you need to go you cant stay here you need to leave me im not coming with you etc etc etc.

ANYWAY. ALL THIS TO SAY. shaker powers come from environmental/ambient danger. i.e. a literal endbringer attack. maybe the house isnt structurally sound anymore but he doesnt want to leave his mom. breaker powers come from . well this is more of me maybe forcing the issue but i want the trickster to be a separate form or something. the abstract stressors here being. he knows something bad is happening but he doesnt know exactly what. he knows his mom cant move but he wants her to be able to so she can leave with him, shes yelling at him telling him to go, he doesnt know where his dad is, he doesnt want to go by himself. etc etc do you feel the vision here. taking this directly from that last paragraph about breakers too but like "knowing a situation is dangerous but not wanting to leave" yknow!!!!! i dont know exactly how this would manifest yet but goddd just. imagining it as something like. his shaker powers are the ones he can actually control and use normally but the trickster/breaker powers is what he turns into in situations similar to his trigger, where someone he loves is in danger. but the irony of it is that he cant really control his actions as the trickster and he just kind of. goes berserk on whatever is around him. absolutely brutal, maybe a little sadistic; its kind of perfect for situations like overlord where they do actually need to kill someone to get out of the situation, but with things like his trigger. well. the only living thing around him was his mom. so . wasnt pretty. is this anything . im in so much pain about this

final FINAL side note. i know we have mark as a cauldron cape but even if we didnt i think both his classifications working so fucking well ESPECIALLY tinker "solutionless problems over long periods, resulting in a crisis moment" what is more of a solutionless problme than knowing you and your son have been marked by the simurgh and deciding that instead of following protocol youre going to say fuck it all and get the two of you out of there by. nuking your entire lives and faking new identities and struggling to bounce back from somehting like that all while knowing the inevitability of. the fact that youve BEEN MARKED BY THE FUCKING SIMURGH. (also striker "results from an immediate threat, usually a single object or individual" hello? coming home to find your son in some demonic berserk state and your wife a bloody mess on the floor all while theres this overbearing scream/singing in your head ??? okayyyyy)