#people are allowed to want to have babies

[goldensunset]

i’ve been thinking about the pokémon memes where it’s like playing off of that one quote that’s like ‘truly strong trainers should try to win using their favorites’ and it’s like ‘ok well my favorite is [something blatantly overpowered]’ and it’s got me curious. how many people genuinely love pokémon that also happen to be really strong competitively?

so if you will. pick a favorite pokémon (for any reason! whether it’s cuteness or strength or nostalgia etc. no judgment) then go here https://www.smogon.com/dex/sv/pokemon/ and look it up

(you’ll see something that looks like this. see where it says tier and has some gibberish afterwards? don’t worry if you don’t know what that means but tell me what the letters/words are)

also if there are multiple forms and the distinction matters to you make sure you get the right one lol cuz the tiering can be different

edit: forgot to mention i mean specifically in SV! which is what comes up by default. rip every pokémon that either isn’t in SV (it’ll say ‘national dex’) or used to be better but has since fallen off relative to new pokémon

[7s3ven]

SINGLE DAD! X BABYSITTER! READER HAS ME FROTHING OMGG. Even better when the rest of TF 141 is involved

part 1 | part 2 (coming soon - rest of tf 141 introduced)

master list

MDNI 18+

Warnings: big age gap, babysitter! reader, reader is in medical school (but still legal guys)

You told yourself it was just a temporary summer job, something to fill your pockets over the Summer break as you moved into another year of university. Medical bills were not easy to pay off and your old job that paid the bare minimum did not help you in the least. All it taught you was that you had a nasty uppercut (from the time you actually hit someone and got fired).

So, you found yourself standing in front of John Price’s house. You stared up at the tall building, brows raised in surprise. He had understated how big his house was… it even had a garden and a pool. You may as well consider it a mansion.

You quickly rang the doorbell, smoothening out your tight blouse. Your much more appropriate one was in the wash so you prayed whoever answered the door did not notice.

It was a tall middle-aged who greeted you, beard cleanly trimmed and… a hat on his head. “Y/N L/N?” He asked you. You swiftly nodded, softly smiling when he stepped aside.

“So, medical school, huh? Training to become a doctor?” He asks as he brews you a cup of tea while you read over his terms and conditions.

“A surgeon, sir. Not much better, though.” You offer him another smile, hoping to ease the awkward tension.

“Right. Next time I need surgery, I’ll call you up.” He takes a sip from your tea, which you notice but you say nothing. “Just checkin’ the temperature. Wouldn’t want ya to burn yourself.” He hands you the mug, his fingers lingering on your skin for a moment too long.

“I assume this is only a quick job for you? Just away to gain a bit of money to pay those student fees off?”

Your cheeks heat up in embarrassment as you nod. “Yes, sir. I know I should have clarified it but I’m a little desperate at this point. Besides, no retail places want to hire me… after I hit someone.”

Your words intrigued him. He let out a low chuckle as he sat across from you. “Now I’m interested.”

“Well… there’s not much to it… a guy kept staring at my chest. He said some vulgar stuff and next thing I knew, I was punching him.”

Price shrugs, leaning back in his seat. “The lad was askin’ for it. So, what do you think about the job? You’ll honestly be a glorified babysitter. Just do some cleaning and cookin’ here and there and make my baby happy and you’ll get a nice pay check every week.”

It all happened in a blur. You agreed to the job and weeks later, you found yourself at Price’s house more than your apartment. You hadn’t stepped foot into your apartment since two days ago, Price generously allowing you to use one of the guest rooms.

“Lila has a sleepover tomorrow.” Price mentions as you’re reading the instructions on how to make cookies for Lila’s bake sale.

Based on the cooking skills you had seen from Price, you doubted he could bake very well. In fact, all he could cook was steak, which was general knowledge for dads.

“I can drop her off if needed.” You offer while opening the packet of flour only for it to explode in your face. You smacked your lips together, grimacing. “Not a word.” You mutter to Price who’s chuckling under his breath.

“Wasn’t gon’ a say anything, love.” He helps wipe the flour dust off your face, still grinning in amusement.

In all honesty, your relationship with Price felt a little too domesticated, especially right now as you wore a frilly apron he had bought just for you.

“Your skirt’s too short, by the way.” Price grumbles, attempting to tug it down. “You sure no creeps stared at you on your way ‘ere? Wouldn’t want ya in danger.”

You push his hands away from your hips. “Even if people were staring, I’ll just punch them.”

You had tried to maintain a professional relationship with your boss but it was hard when he carelessly manhandled you and treated you like his wife rather than his daughter’s babysitter.

And all professional behaviour came crashing down when he unexpectedly stood behind you as you whisked the cookie batter.

“You look like a coke addict.” Price jokes, referring to the flour that still stained your face. “Like you got it everywhere but up your nose.”

“I can assure you, sir, I have never tried coke unless my friend daring me to snort sherbet counts.”

Price grins at your biting remark, his heavy hands falling to your waist. “Yeah? Heard it doesn’t feel too good with sherbet.”

“Not in the slightest.”

His hands trail dangerously low but you don’t have the courage to ask him to stop… nor do you really want him too. He seems to sense your willingness as he rests his face in the crook of your neck, body pressed up tightly against yours.

You feel more like his spoiled wife than a medical student just trying to pay her bills.

“You’re pretty, ya know that? Surprised you don’ have a boyfriend… or girlfriend. Or partner. Dunno what your label is.”

With shaking hands, you place the bowl filled with cookie batter to the side, afraid you’ll only spill it.

“Never met a woman as soft as you… most think I chased Lila’s mother away. But nah. Her mother ran off, leavin’ me with a baby. Not that I’m complaining, I love Lila… and without her, I wouldn’ have met you.”

You’re reduced to listening to Price’s words, stuck between his larger frame and the marbled kitchen counter.

“Sir.” You whisper but it reaches his keen ears. Everything after that is a distorted blur and you find yourself bent over the counter, clad in nothing but the apron, with Price right behind you.

Price was a mystery to you. How could a man be turned on by something as simple as an apron? Though, he was a single dad so it made sense.

Price is muttering praises in your ears as your knees tremble, threatening to buckle. You never imagined you’d be in your employer’s kitchen, having your back blown out by the man himself.

His hands were hungrily climbing your body, gripping every bit of exposed skin he could find. If it wasn’t for him holding you upright, you would have toppled to the ground in a heartbeat.

You feel Price lift a hand to grip your hair, tugging at your locks. He’s in a desperate stupor but you’re not any better, pushing back your hips to meet his harsh thrusts.

“Gon’ a fill ya up. Give you a baby of yer own. Fuck… be so pretty just like you. My perfect little wife.” He grunts in your ear. You have no energy to correct him; that you’re not actually his wife but you’d have no complaints if he bought you a ring.

If anything, his words spur you on more.

Your chest is heaving by the time you near your release. You’re whining like a damn dog, high pitched noises slipping past your saliva-slicked lips. And you only grow in volume as Price speeds up, pressing his body against your back.

He’s older than you, that’s a fact you knew from the start, but he’s definitely more experienced as well. His well thought out words have the desired effect on you as the coil in your stomach snaps.

Your fluids drip down your exposed legs, hitting the tiles kitchen ground in thick droplets. You hear Price swear under his breath, quickly pulling out and staining your back white.

He doesn’t say anything for a moment as he rests his forehead on your shoulder. Then he leads you towards his bathroom, ushering you inside and handing you a spare set of clothes.

“Imma place your old ones in the washing, yeah?” He mutters, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek before leaving you to wash off.

You sit on the shower floor for a good five minutes, replaying the moment in your head. When you finally cleanse yourself of sweat, you slip Price’s shirt over your head, inhaling the intoxicating smell of his cologne. It was the one you liked too.

His clothes engulfed you as you stumbled back into the kitchen, hobbling a little.

“I guess I’ll… get going then.” You murmur, fidgeting with your hands.

Price reaches out a hand to brush a strand of hair away from your face. Then he nods. “See you tomorrow night, lovie.”

Right, you still had to finish those cookies and pick up your clothes.

[sematarygirls]

      BOYFRIEND!RAFE x DEPRESSED!READER

WARNINGS .ᐟ depression, rafe gives reader a bath, but it's not sexual, fluff, the teeniest bit of angst if you squint at the beginning

NOTES .ᐟ this isn't my best work, but i'm writing it more for comfort than anything else, and i wanted to post it just in case anyone out there is also struggling and could use it <3

Something was up, and Rafe could tell. You were usually so clingy, wanting to spend every moment with him, and he was not complaining by any means. He loved having his girl at his side, showing her off at every occasion, but it had been almost two weeks since he last saw you, which was so very out of the ordinary.

You would answer his texts at first, always coming up with some excuse for why you couldn't see him. First, you were sick. He offered to come over and take care of you, but you'd insisted that you didn't want him to catch whatever you had, so he eventually acquiesced and settled on checking in on you periodically.

But then, your responses slowly became more and more infrequent. Rafe was at a loss. Had he done something to upset you? Why were you being so cold and distant? He couldn't think of any fights you two had recently. Everything seemed perfect until you started pulling away out of the blue.

He texted you to tell you he was coming over, but you hadn't seen it by the time he showed up at your house, all but pounding on the door. He was a little angry, very annoyed, and more than a bit jealous. Were you with some other guy in there? Is that why you hadn't been answering him.

Those feelings immediately dissipated, however, when the door slowly creaked open and you peeked out. Your hair was tangled and greasy, haphazardly thrown up and out of the way. You had dark circles under your eyes and a small frown on your face, your brows pinching when you saw him.

His expression softened as he softly murmured your name. You stepped back, allowing him inside, and he shut the door behind him, his eyes never leaving your disheveled form. "Baby, what's wrong?" He asked gently, approaching you like he would a skiddish animal.

"You shouldn't have come," you said quietly, your gaze downcast. You were embarrassed that he was seeing you like this. The whole reason you'd been avoiding him was so he wouldn't see this part of you—the part that struggled to get out of bed whenever a major depressive episode hit.

He ignored your words, stepping closer and tilting your chin up, so he could look at you. "Talk to me, sweetheart," he coaxed softly. "Is this why you've been dodging my calls and texts?"

You nodded slowly, feeling guilty. You hadn't meant to ignore him, but texting people had become a chore as of late. You couldn't bring yourself to do it, to have to explain why you were acting so off. You just wanted to shut out the world and wallow in your misery.

He sighed, his thumbs coming up to caress your cheeks gently. He hated seeing you like this. He wanted to fix it. He wanted to take away all your sorrow and make you happy again. "Why didn't you tell me, baby?"

"I just- I didn't want you to see me like this," you said softly. "I look like shit. It's gross and pathetic..."

"Hey, don't say that shit about yourself, alright?" he said firmly. "You're beautiful, always, and you're not pathetic. You're going through a hard time and that's okay. I'm here for you, baby."

You looked up at him, your eyes glistening with unshed tears at his words. He was so gentle, so understanding and patient. He was perfect, and you were... you.

He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "I'm gonna run you a warm bath, okay? Gonna wash your hair and get you all cleaned up."

"You don't have to do that," you said quietly. You didn't want to be a burden, for him to feel like he had to take care of you just because you were dating.

"I know that, but I want to, alright? Just-Just let me take care of you, yeah?" He stared at you expectantly, waiting until you gave him a reluctant nod before he took your hand and pulled you toward the bathroom. "Sit," he ordered, pointing to the lowered toilet seat.

You complied, sitting and watching him as he turned the water on, testing the temperature with his hand and adjusting it until it was just the way he knew you liked it before he flipped the drain stopper. He poured in some of your favorite scented bubble bath, waiting for the water to fill the tub.

He turned back to you, kneeling down to take your hands in his. "Okay baby, let's get you undressed and in the tub, yeah? I'll wash your hair for you."

You chewed your lip nervously, looking at him with uncertainty. You were hardly in any shape to be perceived by anyone, let alone your perfect boyfriend. You couldnt remember the last time you shaved your body or did any personal grooming for that matter. You'd just been so physically and mentally drained as of late.

He cupped your cheek, gently using his thumb to pull your lower lip from your teeth. He hated when you did that, always saying you were ruining your pretty lips. "You're always gorgeous to me," he reassured you. "I don't care what you look like. Right now, I just wanna take care of my girl, alright?"

You hesitated but nodded. "Okay," you said softly. You knew he was just trying to help, and you also knew you desperately needed your hair washed before it reached the point of no return. You'd hated how bad you'd let it get, but you couldn't bring yourself to even attempt the attention and effort that detangling and washing would entail.

With careful movements, Rafe helped ease your shirt over your head, revealing your bare skin to his gaze. His expression was non judgemental, his touch reverent as he helped you out of your clothes. "You're doing so good, baby," he murmured, his words soothing the nerves that were bubbling in your stomach. "In you go," he said, once you were finally out of your dirty clothes.

You stepped into the warm bath, the hot water and calming smell helping you relax a fraction. You pulled your knees to your chest with a soft sigh. You were so sensitive and vulnerable in that moment, and Rafe's kindness made your chest tighten and your eyes mist.

He smiled softly at you, the picture of a loyal, caring boyfriend. He would do anything for you. "There you go, sweetheart. Gonna feel so much better after a nice long bath." He knelt beside the tub, running his hand over your hunched back soothingly for a few moments.

He let you get adjusted and relaxed before reaching for your hair tie, gently pulling it out and revealing your tangled hair. You closed your eyes, waiting for some remark about how you need to take better care of yourself or how your hair was a mess, but it never came. "Alright baby, let's get this pretty hair washed for you," was all he said, his tone soft and comforting. "Can you lean back for me?"

You nodded, unfurling yourself from your curled up position and leaning back, letting your hair soak up the water. "There you go," he murmured, making sure your hair was thoroughly wetted before helping you sit back up straight. He reached for the conditioner, coating your hair in an ungodly amount and running it through the strands as best he could to help soften your hair and make it easier to detangle before grabbing a wide tooth comb. "This might hurt a little, baby. I'm sorry, but you'll feel so much better when we're all done."

He worked meticulously, starting at the ends and slowly, carefully working out each knot and tangle, murmuring soft apologies whenever he hit a bad one that tugged at your scalp. He had experience with this kind of thing, having helped Wheezie with her hair a lot when she was a kid. He was so gentle and patient, making sure he didn't pull too hard.

It made you grateful because if you were doing this yourself, you already knew you would've gotten frustrated and started practically ripping your hair out as you roughly yanked the comb through your hair until you were in tears.

The fact that he regarded you with a tenderness and compassion you didn't even award yourself made your heart swell with love, but it also made guilt tug at you. This was the man that you'd been ignoring—this man that was so attentive and loved you so much.

"You're doing so good, baby. I know it hurts, but you're being so brave for me. I'm so proud of you," he said gently, continuing to work through your hair. He didn't show any signs that he was getting frustrated or annoyed, he just continued to hold himself with pure adoration and care for you.

His sweet words made tears well up in your eyes. You didn't understand how you could ever deserve someone like him, someone who loved you completely and unconditionally. His words of assurance were something you'd desperately needed to hear after weeks of listening to your own brain demean and demoralize you.

"There we go, sweetheart. All done. You did so well," he praised you gently as he finally finished up, running the comb through the last of the tangles. He helped you lean back, rinsing the conditioner. He made sure to get all the excess product out before helping you sit back up, reaching for the shampoo bottle.

He squirted a generous amount onto his palm, lathering it in his hands and applying it into your scalp. He washed it out and applied more until it started to froth up, signaling that your hair was finally getting clean.

"I'm sorry," you said quietly as he worked the shampoo into your hair, his fingers massaging your scalp in slow, soothing circles. You felt guilty for a lot of things, for ignoring him, for making him spend his time on you like this, for being this way in the first place. Your brain had convinced you that you were a burden on everyone around you, and you hated the thought of Rafe having to put up with you when he could have any other normal girl.

His hands stilled in your hair, and he tiled your head so you were looking at him. His expression was serious, deadly so, and for a moment, you thought he was mad at you. "Don't. Don't you ever apologize, okay? You've got absolutely nothing to be sorry for. You understand me?"

You nodded, his words and actions meaning more to you than he could ever know. He always knew what to say, what to do to make you feel better. He made you feel important and loved, and you needed that, especially right now. "Thank you."

His gaze softened, a gentle smile spreading across his handsome features. "You don't need to thank me, baby. Caring for you is the easiest thing in the world. I just wish you could see yourself through my eyes—so beautiful, inside and out."

After throughly massaging your scalp, he washed out the shampoo, applying a final layer of conditioner to ensure your hair stayed soft and retained moisture. "Do you wanna wash your body, or do you want me to?" He asked gently. He wanted to make sure you were as comfortable as possible, and if you would be too embarrassed with him touching you like that, he respected it.

"I can- um- I can do it," you said quietly. He had already done so much for you already, and as much as you loved being doted on and cared for, it didn't erase the nerves and insecurity that were swirling through your mind.

"Okay, sweetheart. Take your time. I'm right here if you need anything at all," he reassured you. You washed up and rinsed the conditioner out of your hair, the water uncomfortably cold by the time you were done since detangling had taken forever.

Rafe was ready with a towel by the time you were finished. "Come on, baby, let's get you out. You're probably freezing," he said, helping you up and wrapping the towel around you, rubbing the material against your skin to help warm you up before grabbing a separate towel to help you dry off your hair.

You let him take care of you, drying you off before steering you to your bedroom to get dressed. He knew your drawer set up by heart, having helped you put your clean clothes away more than once. "You really don't have to do all that," you mumbled, watching him carefully choose some comfortable, clean clothes for you.

"I already told you that I want to," he said firmly, plucking out your favorite pajamas. "Now, we're gonna get you dressed and settle in on the couch because we gotta get you out of this bed. It's not good for you to stay in it all day," he told you, helping you into your clean clothes. You felt a little silly being assisted getting dressed and undressed, but you were so appreciative that he cared enough about you to help you like this.

"Sorry for the... mess," you said, wincing as you glanced around at your dirty room. It looked like a disaster area, and you only just now seemed to clock how bad it was.

"I already told you to quit apologizing," he gently scolded you. "We can clean it up later, together, but right now, we're going to go watch some TV and get some food in you, okay?"

You nodded, mustering a small smile. "I love you, Rafe," you said, wrapping your arms around his waist and burying your face in his chest.

"I love you too, baby, so so much," he murmured. His strong arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer to him as he rested his chin on the top of your head. You inhaled his scent, a smell that was distinctly his and always seemed to calm and relax you, his tight grip on you serving to ground you in that moment, reminding you that there are people who cherish you even in your darkest days.

tags .ᐟ   @starkeysprincess / @cometmultiverse / @iheartjjmaybnk / @all4l0vee / @kissesfrmriri / @xoxohoneymoongirl / @bradshawed / @fallbhind / @rafeslittleangel / @bakugouswaif

[cxffecoupx]

sundays

choi seungcheol x reader pure fluff, very domestic allowing their partner to sleep in because they were overworked anyway and need the rest with scoups wc: 995 warnings: mentions of food author's notes: first request from the prompt list. thank you so much anon! most of the feelings i wrote this with comes from all the stress last week, so this was pretty healing for me to write. also i tried a different style in this, not sure i liked it at first, but do lemme know what you guys think. also, i love domestic, boyfriend seungcheol, if it wasnt already obvious.

saturday; 8:26 p.m.

the soft vibrations startle you in the quiet hum of the library. people look towards you, some annoyed, some with no particular expression on their faces. dead inside.

somewhat like you.

you mutter apologies as you rush out with your phone. seungcheol's name lights up the screen. you pick up the call.

"hey baby."

"hey, cheollie."

"have you eaten yet?"

"no; i still have a little to finish the chapter. so maybe after that..."

"baby..." you swear you could see the pout on his face when you hear his voice. "how many times have i asked you not to starve yourself?"

"cheol, i'm not starving, i promise to eat after this chapter."

"you want me to order something for you?"

"no no, i'm good. i'll grab something from the cafe. i gotta go, i'll call you when i reach room, okay?"

after a hum, you end the call and go back to your table.

-----

saturday; 11:52 p.m.

you were writing notes - two three textbooks open on the desk, along with your laptop, and notebook on your lap, your pen tucked above your lips as you ponder something. the weighted blanket covers the chair and your figure, and although sleep is fluttering in your eyes, the thought of having to physically get up and out of this cozy comfortable cocoon makes you wanna sleep in the chair itself.

your phone buzzes with a text, making you groan because you'd have to pull yourself out of the position you're currently in. you do it anyways, and see that seungcheol had sent you a text.

big baby🍒: you up for a walk? me: i have to study me: :( big baby🍒: who are you kidding? big baby🍒: we both know youre falling asleep rn me: >:( me: but you make a good point me: when are you leaving? i'll get ready big baby🍒: already in front of your door

you get ready quickly and open the door to find seungcheol waiting out, cheeks red and lips shivering. you smile as you pull his face to yours to kiss his lips, mumbling a weak excuse that it's to warm them up. he wraps his scarf round your neck and interlinks your hands as you head for the walk.

when you return an hour later, it's with much reluctance that seungcheol says he should leave. but then he pouts every half minute after muttering his decision.

"do you wanna stay over tonight?" you offer, knowing fully well he would never reject. he doesnt even hear the whole question before he's kicking off his shoes and entering your room. you head over to your wardrobe to take out some of his clothes he'd left behind at various points of your relationship and bring it to him. when he's done freshening up, he comes out to see you settling back into your cocoon, head deep in the books. he decides to keep company as he lays on the bed, scrolling through his phone.

-----

sunday; 2:57 p.m.

seungcheol had fallen asleep some multiple times in between keeping you silent company, but when he wakes up now, he's full awake and shocked to see you still sitting at your desk, now with some snack packets littering around. he decides to walk over and call you to bed, but that's when he notices that your eyes are half-closed and your head hanging in a way that makes him wince. drool almost makes its way down your chin before he takes a tissue and wipes it off. he gently nudges you awake.

"yn, baby. you need to get to bed. come on now."

he's honestly surprised when you easily comply, maybe because of your half-asleep state, because usually you'd reject and sit for some time more. the walk that he'd planned to tire you out had worked, he thinks to himself, as he supports your asleep body to your bed and lays you down, tucking you in the soft, weighted blanket - your favourite - before settling in beside you.

as he drifts back to sleep, he hears you murmur to him.

"seungie, wake me up early tomorrow, okay?"

it's only after he reassures you that he will that you finally wrap your arms around his torso and settle into the warmth of his chest before falling asleep.

-----

sunday; 11:17 a.m.

seungcheol is awakened by you snuggling closer to him. it's way past the time he was asked to wake you up at, but he wouldn't dare wake you up when you seemed to sleep so peacefully. that too on an off day? he could never.

he takes his sweet time admiring your features during this moment of calm: your eyelids that are open in the slightest, the little sniffs with each breath you take because winters meant you're cold at every passing moment, the hair that fell out of the neat bun you made before going to bed, puffy cheeks that seem to move as you chew on something in your dream (he guesses). his urge to touch your face overpowers every other thought as he lightly traces his finger along the line of your brow. this seemed to have woken you up because you sigh before opening your eyes; the first thing you see in the morning being his handsome, bed-face that's smiling towards you.

a view you could never get tired of.

you press the lightest of kisses on his lips and turn to check your phone. panic seeps into your brain within a millisecond when you realize its way past your wake-up time. you sit up in a swift motion.

"cheol, i asked you to wake me up at 7!"

"relax baby, it's a sunday."

"but-"

before you could argue back, he sits up and places a smooch on your lips.

"no buts. you don't have to rush every time; it's alright to take breaks."

another kiss.

"good morning, baby. let's go make some pancakes."

[poisonsage808]

Goes Without Saying

Sevika x Reader

clear winner of the poll! enjoy some more sevika <33

warnings: no spoilers, violence, blood

It happened so fast.

You used to think that was a stupid phrase, a lie or a cop out that people told when they didn’t have the details to describe what ensued. Then you landed palms first into the pavement, barely able to stop your head from crashing onto the ground. You tasted blood before you saw the crimson liquid trickling down the slope of your nose. Your brow ached something awful. Hands, knees, cheek and chin burning from the scrapes and irritated with the dust that didn’t belong on you.

A throaty chortle started a chorus of laughter from a few feet behind where you slid from.

“Hey’a slut, have a nice fall?”

He tripped you. And he thought he was clever to boot.

You spat out the copper taste, running your tongue over your teeth to check for any chips. You pretended luck was on your side when you found none. Teeth were the hardest to replace.

Crash!

Scrambling to your feet, you whipped your head around too quickly and almost fell on your ass. For a moment you were worried they weren’t satisfied with a mere fumble, they might’ve wanted more entertainment at your expense. There was a three headed blob that suddenly became one after a blur of green shot by. When your vision cleared you saw the two snickering bystanders on the ground, bleeding much, much worse than you. The jerk that hooked your ankle and sent you tumbling was weakly trying to crawl away.

“What’s your damage?” A familiar, smooth voice asked with a hint of exhilaration. Sevika did always have a bit of a sadistic streak. The smirk pulling at her lips proved it. “I wanna even the score.”

In an attempt to wipe the blood off of your face, you only smeared it into your hair.

“Chipped a tooth.” You lied, spitting out another lump of crimson for effect.

Judging by the speed of which her smirk dropped, her joy was slaughtered. Sevika’s metallic arm hissed in preparation for what her mind had already made up. You could have come out of the fall without a scratch and it wouldn’t have mattered, because laying a finger on you was a death sentence.

Sevika lifted the jerk by the collar of his shirt and smashed his face into her knee as it launched from the ground. You winced at the satisfying crack. She let his body fall to the filthy floor, quickly turning and marching towards you with a scowl. You glared when she snatched your arm, whining the tiniest bit to win back the Sevika that fought someone for you.

“Quit being a baby.” She snapped quietly, pulling you along.

Only a few heads turned as she dragged you through the doors of The Last Drop and into her private office. It was less of an office and more of a gambling room, by her design, of course. She promptly kicked everyone out and sat you on a lumpy couch. Immediately she forced your lips apart, her finger invading your mouth.

“You lying bug. I bashed his teeth in for nothing.”

You flashed a tired, bloody grin her way, “Not for nothing. You were going to do it anyways.”

Sevika snorted, allowing you to witness a small bit of mirth. Her touch on the aching side of your face was obscenely gentle, her thumb testing the sensitivity of the forming bruises. It was terrifying to see how quickly her eyes changed from melted chocolate to charred wood when she was angry. Just looking at your face brought back the fury she felt when she saw you fall.

“Yeah.” Sevika agreed firmly, “No one’s gonna hurt you on my watch, bug.”

You couldn’t help but poke the bear when she acted this way. She was affectionate to you… in her own way. Fighting someone on your behalf, whether you asked her to or not, doting on you as she sweetly wiped the blood from your hair and managing to close the cut on your brow without stitches because she knows how you get about them.

“You like me.” You teased, “Admit it.”

“Don’t be childish.” She tossed the bloody rag onto the table of abandoned cards and chips, and sunk onto the couch beside you. Sevika waited for your legs to hook over her lap and scoot closer before her human arm wrapped around your shoulders and locked you there. “Of course I do.”

~

come hangout and talk about arcane (and more!) with us on [discord]

[peppermintquartz]

Buck/Tommy prompt: Tommy finally realizing he *does* have a family with the 118

It's a Thursday afternoon when he dies.

He's not even on shift, that's the thing; he was in the gym training with a friend, and the next thing he knows five masked figures burst in, shouting at everyone to get down to the ground, and he's shielding Jacob when one of them fires a spray in their direction.

The bullets don't land anywhere fatal so he doesn't die immediately, but that means it hurts like a bitch, and he can feel his extremities growing cold. He sees the five gunmen race out the other door. Jacob is panicking, pressing his gym towel on the stomach wound but not exerting enough strength to hold back the blood loss; Lizzie is screaming at someone to hurry; Tommy thinks, Fuck, on the day I beat my personal best too.

His vision is darkening around the edges. Breathing is difficult. Maybe a punctured lung from shrapnel, who knows?

The coroner will, his brain supplies, a joker to the very end.

He hears sirens. Vaguely, he wonders if who's going to tell Evan.

Sorry, baby. Didn't mean to make you cry. Tommy lets go of the vestiges of the breath he's been struggling to hold onto.

"Tommy?" He knows the voice. Wow, God really has a shitty sense of humor. "Tommy!"

At least that's the last thing he'll hear before he dies. Tommy tastes blood in his mouth, and everything stops.

Death, it turns out, is a welcoming silence.

--

He wakes up in fits and starts.

When he is finally, mostly conscious, he feels someone holding his right hand. And there are two people talking.

"...I think he's back with us again," one of the voices say. "Mr Kinard?"

Call me Tommy. Mr Kinard is my asshole dad.

"Tommy?"

Now Tommy smiles. That's the right name. He blinks, each eyelid approximately seven thousand tons. Dimmed lights, two shadowy figures, one in a white coat and the other in navy.

"Guess... G'd dint like... my crack 'bout. Sense of humor."

"What the fuck," says Navy. He scoots closer and Tommy can see his face clearly. Boyishly handsome, with light brown curly hair, a birthmark. Red-rimmed eyes. "Tommy. Tommy, god."

"Hey." He can't remember Navy's name. "Dry."

White Coat hands over a small cup. Navy puts an ice chip on Tommy's lips, and Tommy draws it into his mouth for the relief.

Evan. Not Navy. Evan.

White Coat comes close, and Tommy wants to protest. He wants to hold Evan's hand and kiss his sad little pout away.

"You can do that later when you're better," said White Coat. He shines a light into Tommy's eyes - ow - and taps him in various places, and then it's just Tommy and Evan again.

Evan stands and leans down to kiss Tommy's brow. "Go to sleep. I'll let everyone know you pulled through."

Tommy wants to ask, but sleep pulls him under.

--

They come to visit, singly or in pairs.

"Glad you're still breathing," Eddie says. He sits on the side of the bed. "Chris says that if you die, he'll hit you with his crutches. And they hurt, let me tell you that."

Hen and Karen visit with their kids that same day. Denny asks if Tommy can teach him and Mara to draw. "I liked yours the most of all the art on my cast."

Bobby comes by, scowls at the bland food, and says, "I'm glad you're still with us, kid." Tommy tears up, and allows himself to cry silently. Bobby only holds his hand and pats the back of it.

Donato and Melton come by with a bunch of balloons, all chosen for maximum obnoxiousness. The bright pink and yellow one that proclaims "It's a GIRL!" is Tommy's favorite.

He gives that balloon to Chimney when he comes by, telling him to give it to Jee. Chimney punches the side of Tommy's leg. "Count your lucky stars it isn't Maddie here. They'd never even find your body."

--

Maddie shows up with Evan the day after to take Tommy home to recover from his three bullet wounds.

"Three shots and you only get three days?" Evan is outraged.

"Flesh wounds except for the one through my lower left abdomen," Tommy reminds him, already tired. "Plus, I signed myself out." Then, taking a nervous breath, he says, "Hi Maddie."

Maddie glares at him. "You're lucky I wasn't the one holding the gun."

Tommy winces, ducks his head. "I'm sorry."

Evan rolls his eyes. "Standing right here, Maddie."

"I warned him about breaking your heart," she says grumpily, but she takes the duffel bag of Tommy's stuff.

Tommy leans back in his wheelchair as Evan rolls him out towards freedom. "How much groveling to make to earn your sister's forgiveness?"

"See how long you'll grovel for mine, and multiply that by ten."

"Oh shit."

"...that'd be about half a hour, I guess."

"For you or for her?"

Evan wrinkles his nose at him, but his smile is still sunshine. His hand lands on Tommy's shoulder and squeezes. "You and I need a good talk. And this time, you can't run."

Tommy dares to touch Evan's hand. "Okay."

[jonjaydami]

Ok so we have all seen those posts talking about Bruce looking at his kids and still seeing them as his precious babies even though they are towering muscular adults right?

Well I raise you clark seeing them the same way but through step dad vision. Cause honestly he didn't come into Bruce's life until a bit later and by then he already had Robin by their first meeting. Of course Bruce didn't trust clark to even be in his city let alone around his kid but any chance he was in Gotham for any reason Dick was asking to use him as a "super jungle gym" and was dangling off his limbs.

Now don't get clark wrong he likes kids! But kids actually make him nervous. Not only did he grow up on a farm pretty isolated in a small town that didn't have many people so not like he was a baby sitter. But also...batman makes him nervous and for good reason to.

But the closer he got to him the more he was allowed around the kids especially (depending on what universe your shoving these characters into but this is my version) after he saved Jason from getting killed by the joker and he batman started to trust him a lot more. Jason was in awe but is definitely a wonder women fan. Which is fine because Clark is also a fan of hers and have written many articles about her as a hero. Jason always found a way at any gala or event to fallow clark around and pretend to also be a journalist and ask people questions. But he did them way more accusing and got several people to whisper. Bruce was amused but also just tired of his kids wanting to be around clark. The man was a goody two shoes.

When Steph comes around and eventually Barbara and even Cassie they ask a LOT of questions and not the kind of ones like Tim (who upon their first meeting tore off his glasses and asked him why he uses them as a disguise when it doesn't even work) *note they work very well at disguising him Tim just doesn't understand how other people just CANNOT see superman when looking at him*

Duke had to be the most tamed out of every. Single. One. Of Bruce's kids. He was polite and even shook his hand. He was expecting questions or insults of some sort but when none came he was shocked to say the least. He didn't sleep for days afterwards.

The next and last was Damian who after years of experience with Bruce's kids he believed he was ready....he was in fact not ready. Damian not only insulted him, threatened, and snuck into his apartment to "scope out the enemies territory" really he was in trouble and didn't like Bruce grounding him so he went over there to pick a fight.

In all reality dealing with thr kids for so long ended him and Bruce becoming closer and closer and eventually getting together and tying the knot. Now that they are all grown adults he just CANNOT see them as such.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Damin at the ripe age of 22: Die alien!!

Clark *holding back tears*: you used to say that when you were 13

~~~~~~~~~~

The batkids *arguing*

Clark *Looking at them. Just to see a bunch of teenagers and children*: you see it to right?

Bruce *taking a sip from his mug*: it never changed

[merakiui]

Mera, with your infinite wisdom is there any chance you’d make an accidnetal pregnancy fic with floyd? you have the best understanding of his character that i’ve seen from any author. he wouldn’t be all too excited and irresponsible throughout fatherhood like most people assume. i think he’d be surprisingly chill and understanding with most stuff. (im staring at that one omegaverse fic you wrote for him out of the corner of my eye)

Omg yes!! I'd love to write an accidental pregnancy fic with Floyd. I'm so glad to know my portrayal of him is accurate! He's so fun to write for. <3 the scummy, sleazy Floyb fic (The Law of Magnetism) actually involved the accidental pregnancy trope, but I scrapped it for plot reasons. >_<

aaaaa the omegaverse fic!!!!! I definitely want to write another like it. I love the idea of exploring parenthood with Floyb. Sweetest eel who will take responsibility as soon as you break the news to him, who will be okay with whatever your decision is because it's your body, who just wants you to be comfortable and happy. In my mind he's quite mature about the entire thing, but then he's also not completely free of flaws. He's going to be inexperienced as any first-time parent normally is, but he's very good with kids in general (reference: first Halloween event) and so you won't have to worry about how he'll be with your kid. He's so full of love. :D

But also,,, I just think he'd be a little nervous himself. Having to tell his parents he got someone pregnant without even planning it and so they may or may not become grandparents if the baby is indeed on the way. But the Leech parents love and cheer for their boys fiercely, allowing them to be independent and make mistakes and succeed, so you and Floyd immediately have their full support. Mama and Papa want to meet you so badly and they don't even know if you're planning to keep the child yet! At this point, you're basically an honorary member of their family, much to Floyd's embarrassment sometimes. Having to sit there while his father shares all kinds of stories from when Floyd was a brat, and Floyd's just whacking him with his tail like "okay, I think Shrimpy's heard enough of that." >:/ grumbling with a flustered face, arms folded across his chest as he pouts..... he's so silly and cute.

One of Floyd's biggest appeals is his emotional intelligence and his ability to read the atmosphere in a room and be so in touch with his emotional self!!! I love that about him so much. T^T <3

[gaywineauntsstuff]

The bat family is split between Dog people and cat people and I refuse to elaborate

That’s a lie I love elaborating

Bruce:…cat person for obvious reasons I mean come on he’s had a will they won’t they with Selina Kyle for like 50 years atp

Dick: Dog person listen Dick likes cats but Dick is the one who sits on concerning thin ledges and moves like he has no bones cats he and cats are too similar. + dogs are more excitable, energetic and affectionate and after dealing with Bruce Wayne for damn near 2 decades you become allergic to any form of open communication and one must try to acclimate (like that girl on TikTok with the carrot allergy)

Jason: wants to be a dog person Is a cat person. He was always a cat person and but he lies and says he used to like dogs until he got blown up (he will not elaborate on what a dog or cat preference has to do with this he just likes bringing it up) he can barley keep his team from being arrested he is not bringing a dog along with him anywhere. He also just…isn’t their biggest fan like he’ll warm up to 1 dog and love em but doesn’t mean he likes all dogs

Tim: dog person. They’re useful, friendly and cute (they can be used to track peoples scents and he’s a professional stalker)

Damian: Damian Georg is an outlier and should not be counted

Steph: Cats because she got bit by a guard dog as a kid and now is a little more weary. Also she likes to have a cat napping on her lap when she does any sort of work bc then she’s stuck there and has to do the work bc she can’t wake up the cat. Also if Steph had a pet it would be a cat who looks eerily similar to her and I will not elaborate (for real this time)

Duke: Dog person, he seems like the type of dude to have 5 identical looking dogs and take them out on walks sequentially so that everyone thinks he’s been walking the same dog for 5 hours. Idk Duke started a cult he likes chaos, cat people don’t put effort into making peoples lives hell bc they don’t put effort into anything (except revenge)

Brought to you by I’m homesick at Uni and I can’t bring my cats and dogs over bc my building doesn’t allow it.

Baby pictures of the now adult cats enjoy

[cmdrfupa]

Scary Dog Privilege

Ijichi x Reader

a/n: IJICHI BABES, WE ARE HERE.

Your relationship with Ijichi made sense.

If awards for couples that made the most sense existed, you and Ijichi would win them all.

He was the greyhound to your cane corso. The Sphynx to your Siamese cat. Ijichi was your devoted lover and you were his world.

You just wanted him to see his own value in every situation. Remind him that he has a say so even if everyone else disregards it. And maybe your anniversary trip could help him.

The suitcase lay half-packed on the bed, its contents a colorful jumble of folded clothes and travel essentials on top of the surprise bikini dress you’d packed for the beach.

You hummed cheerfully to yourself, holding up a sun hat and tilting your head. “What do you think, baby? Too much for the beach, or just enough to keep the mysterious wife thing up?”

Across the room, Ijichi stood awkwardly by the doorway, fiddling with the collar of his shirt. His gaze darted to you, then away, his lips parting as if to speak before closing again.

“It’s perfect,” he mumbled, though the way his fingers fidgeted with his glasses said his mind was elsewhere.

You narrowed your eyes at him, setting the hat down. “Kiyotaka,” you said in a tone that made him stand a little straighter. “You’ve been pacing like a nervous puppy for the last ten minutes. What happened today? Did someone die, or worse, did they cancel our anniversary reservation?”

He flinched. “No, no! Nothing like that!”

“Then what?”

Ijichi hesitated, his cheeks flushing. “I... um... I’ve been assigned as the lead administrator for a mission next week.”

The cheerful hum of excitement that had been buzzing in your chest came to a screeching halt. Slowly, you slipped your slippers back on and walked over to him. “Next week? As in, the week of our trip?”

He nodded, his hands wringing. “I-I didn’t say no. They said they needed someone dependable, and I—”

“Didn’t push back,” you finished for him, your tone flat. You let out a long sigh, and wrapped your arms around his next. “Honey. Do I need to come to these meetings and say ‘no’ for you?”

His shoulders slumped, and he gave you a sheepish look. “I know I worked through my day off last time but I didn’t want to let anyone down…”

You crossed your arms, giving him the look only an understanding wife could give. “Kiyotaka, I get it. You’re kind and genuinely such a pleasant guy —two of the many reasons I love you. But you’re also allowed to have a life outside of work. It’s okay to tell people no. Even me.”

“I know,” he muttered, but the doubt in his voice was as clear as day.

“Hmm,” you said, rolling up your sleeves and taking a few paces back. “Let’s roleplay.”

“Huh?”

“I’m Principal Yaga, and you’re telling me you can’t take the mission. Go.”

His eyes widened. “What? I—”

“Go!” you barked, dropping into a gruff impression of Yaga. You stroked an imaginary goatee and squinted at him. “Goddamn man! Speak up! I don’t have all day! I’ve got sunglasses to buy and cute cursed dolls to make!”

Ijichi blinked at you, flustered. “Um… excuse me, sir, but I…”

You interrupted, shaking your head dramatically while speaking in a hushed tone. “No excuses, Ijichi. You’re too valuable!”

That finally got a laugh out of him, and you couldn’t help but smile. “See? Not so scary when it’s just me,” you teased. “Now try again. Confidently, this time.”

He took a deep breath, straightening his shoulders.

“Principal Yaga, I appreciate the trust you’ve placed in me, but I’ve already committed to important personal plans next week. I’ll need to decline this mission but maybe ask Akari and she how she feels about taking it on.”

You broke into a grin, clapping your hands. “There it is! That’s my guy! See? You can do it!”

Ijichi looked surprised by his own success, a small, proud smile tugging at his lips. “You really think they’ll respect that?”

“Absolutely,” you said, stepping closer kissing his cheek then lips as he pulled you into a hug. “But if they don’t, just let me know. I’ll show up and demonstrate my cursed technique. Bet that’ll make them think twice.”

He chuckled, relaxing in your arms. “Thank you,” he murmured, his voice soft with gratitude.

“Anytime,” you replied, squeezing him gently. “Now, let’s finish packing. You’ve got a mission to refuse and an anniversary trip to enjoy.”

👓

The sun was dipping low over the courtyard, warm orange hues painted themselves across the campus.

You were heading back from a training session with Nanami when you spotted Ijichi standing stiffly near the fountain. Across from him, Gojo Satoru leaned lazily against the edge, arms crossed and trademark grin plastered across his face.

“C’mon, Ijichi,” Gojo drawled. “You’re the only guy I can trust with this. It’s just a couple of reports, nothing too crazy. Besides, you know I’d do it myself if I weren’t so…” He gestured vaguely. “Busy.”

You could see the classic Ijichi’s polite smile from where you stood. It was the same tight-lipped expression he used when he wanted to refuse but couldn’t find the words.

“Ah, well, I suppose I could…” he started, trailing off as Gojo’s grin widened.

That was enough for you. Without thinking, you marched over, planting yourself between the two of them.

Gojo,” you almost barked, sharply, staring him down. “I think you can handle this one yourself. Ijichi has enough on his plate and he has to speak with Yaga.”

Gojo raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “Oh? Didn’t know the wife became the spokesperson! But come on, Ijichi’s the best man for the job! He loves this type of work!”

“Maybe,” you retorted, eyes squinting and arms crossed, “but even the best deserves a break. Right, Kiyotaka?”

Ijichi blinked, caught off guard. “I-I suppose…”

Gojo shrugged, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. You’re right. I’ll ask someone else.” With a cheeky grin, he sauntered off, calling over his shoulder, “But don’t think you’ve seen the last of me!”

You turned to Ijichi, a triumphant smile on your face. “There. Problem solved.”

But instead of looking relieved, he seemed troubled, his gaze fixed on the ground. “Thank you,” he muttered, barely audible.

🍵

Later that evening back at home, dinner was quiet. Ijichi kept conversation short and even excused himself early to go to his study.

“Jichi? Honey?” You softly called out as you made your way down the hall, a cup of fresh tea in hand for him as you peered at his relaxed figure from the cracked door of his study. “Can I come in?”

He smiled and waved you in, “Come in. Just reading.” He slipped the bookmark in and sat the book down. “Is that tea for me?”

You nodded and the cup it down before leaning against his desk. “Fresh ginger tea. With a bit of mint from the garden.”

He smiled and took a sip, the warmth filling his chest as he sat it back down. “Thank you darling.”

Watching him intently, you gave a warm smile. “What’s on your mind?”

He hesitated, then sighed. “About earlier… with Gojo. I know you meant well, and I appreciate you stepping in, but…” He looked up at you, his expression pained. “I don’t want people to think I can’t fend for myself.”

You frowned, guilt tugging at your chest. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel that way.” He saw you thumbing with the edge of his desk and stood up, bringing his hands to your waist. “I’m just really not a big fan of seeing people take advantage of you.”

“I know,” he said softly. “But sometimes I need to handle things on my own, even if I mess up sometimes.” His gentle disposition was the sweetest. A level headed man even when he was feeling bogged. “Gojo can be a lot and you were right, I didn’t have the capacity for the work he was trying to pass on to me. But I would’ve figured it out.”

You nodded, rubbing up and down his forearms as you looked to see his unperturbed face. “You’re right. From now on, I’ll let you decide when and if you need me to step in. But if it ever gets too much…”

“I’ll tell you,” he finished, offering a small smile. “I appreciate that you care so much for me. You are my life. And knowing I have you in my corner is enough to make me speak up more. So when I need you, I’ll tell you..”

“Deal?” you asked, holding out your pinky.

He chuckled, linking his pinky with yours. “Deal.”

A playful grin spread across your face. “But you’ve got to admit, I rattled Gojo pretty well.”

Ijichi laughed, his cheeks flushing. “You did. Honestly, I think he’s a little scared of you now.”

“As he should be,” you said proudly, resting your chin on his shoulder as he swayed you for a moment. “But don’t worry—I’ll save my scary side for when you really need it.”

He smiled against the top of your head, his arms wrapping around you as he pressed a kiss to your crown. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You’d probably have a lot less drama in your life,” you teased, earning another laugh.

“You make things more lively. I’d be a lost man without it.”

The moment lingered, warm and sweet, the tension from earlier melting away. Ijichi knew you meant every word. Your devotion to him was truly a gift and you were always going to be the reason he felt like a winner.

[supercorpkid]

Would it really kill you if we kissed? Final

Supergirl. Baby Danvers. Kara Danvers x B!D!Reader, Alex Danvers x B!D!Reader, Lena Luthor x Reader, Esmé Danvers.

Word Count: 3360.

Previously on part 2. Part 3 of 3 :)

You touch down on the rooftop of your apartment building, the cool night air sharp against your skin, a reminder that you're back in National City, back to the familiar world you tried so hard to leave behind. Once inside, you let your bag drop to the floor, the sound echoing in the silence, and you almost laugh at the absurdity of it—like you thought coming back here would make any of it feel better. But here you are, alone in your apartment, as if you could somehow outrun everything boiling up inside you.

You slump down onto the edge of your bed, and the silence presses in, thick and suffocating. You want to tear it apart, rip through this emptiness just to feel something else, anything else. But all that’s left is the quiet of the apartment against the loud of your raging mind.

You try to remind yourself why you came back—how you told yourself that being away from your sisters, from Lena, would give you space to breathe. But the air here feels no less heavy, and every time you close your eyes, you’re back on that island, hearing your own voice cut through the night,. Every word you threw at Kara and Alex loops through your mind, over and over, until you can barely tell where the anger ends and the regret begins.

And then, there it is, unbidden: the memory of Lena’s smile, her soft laugh, the way her hand lingered just a fraction too long when she’d touch your arm. You wonder what she’s thinking now—if Kara told her what happened, or if she just thinks you’ve vanished, abandoning this one fragile connection you were terrified to admit even to yourself.

You let out a shaky breath, pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes. It doesn’t matter, you tell yourself. You’ve burned the bridge, and you don’t deserve to look back. But the ache doesn’t ease; it settles deeper, a constant reminder that you’ve pushed away everything and everyone that mattered, leaving you with the raw, hollow ache of being completely alone.

The next day, you fly to Midvale, drawn back to the place that’s always felt like home. J’onn and M’gann assure you they have things covered, their gentle understanding a stark contrast to the turmoil you’re carrying. But here you are, hoping that maybe, while back home, the guilt from burning all those bridges won’t feel as heavy.

The moment you arrive, Eliza’s face lights up, her arms open wide for you. “My little girl,” she says softly, pulling you into the kind of hug you didn’t realize you needed. “Wait—I thought you were all off on an island somewhere? Didn’t you go for a vacation?”

"Hmm, yeah. I—I had to come back early because of this… thing." you reply, the words clumsy on your tongue, but she doesn’t press. 

Instead she scans your face. Eliza might not be your birth mother, but damn does she know you like one. She can see right through you, and you don't know if you're just that easy to read or if the people in your life just know you deeply.

"Well then, come in. Let's do the thing." She guides you inside the house, and you try to distract yourself with old feelings and memories instead of the new ones.

It's later that day when Eliza settles on the couch next to you, watching you with that quiet, gentle patience she's always had. "You know,” she begins softly, “you’ve always had the heart of a hero.”

“I think you’re confusing me with Kara,” you mutter, eyes fixed on the floor, but Eliza shakes her head, smiling.

"No, I'm not. Kara was always about the big thing—saving the world. But you, you've always been about the little things. Feeding the homeless, nursing birds and cats back to health, getting stray dogs into the house…" She sighs and you bite your lips so you don't smile at the memories. "You didn't even use your powers most of the time."

"Well, if I remember correctly, I wasn't allowed to."

"Oh, like that ever stopped the two of you." she chuckles, and despite yourself, you smile at the memories. "When you two landed here, Kara was mad most of the time. Just angry at the world and I got that, she had every reason. But you were always so kind. A sweet little thing ready to help anything that moved. Oh, and let’s not forget the plants,” she adds with a wink.

“Where are you going with this?”

She breathes deep. "That always worried me."

"What? You worried about me?"

“Still do, sweetheart. You had every reason to be mad too. But you never let your feelings show. You keep so much inside, bottled up.” Eliza reaches for your face, her hand soothing on your cheek, and you lean into the touch you so desperately need. “I don’t know what happened, but you’re allowed to be a mess, to explode, to embrace the difficult feelings.”

You lean into her hand, your eyes stinging. “Well, you might be glad to know that I… finally let it out.”

She nods slowly, eyes full of warmth. “And that’s okay. Just don’t hold on to those feelings for too long. Don’t let them chip away at the good, sweet part of you.”

You nod, her words sinking in as you finally let yourself breathe. Maybe it’s time to start processing all of this without the anger clouding it, without the need to keep defending your heart. You’re home now, and maybe here, you can start to sift through everything, piece by piece, until it hurts a little less.

Over the next couple of days, you stay in Midvale, trying to get your shit together while Eliza makes sure you’re giving yourself the space to feel every hurt, every regret you’ve been holding back. Slowly, you reconnect with parts of yourself you’d almost forgotten in all this mess, while Lena's words take root in some deep place inside—a place that cannot simply be brushed off or resolved, only managed.

You're not alone. You have to stop being alone.

When you finally feel ready, you head back to National City, determined to face the aftermath of your choices. The first thing you see when you walk into your apartment is Kara—waiting for you. The sight of her feels like a punch to the gut, all the words you’d left unspoken swirling around in your mind.

"Kara!" You manage to squeak out, your heart racing. "You're—you're back!"

Kara lets out a small sigh, her shoulders slumping as if the weight of your words has landed squarely on her just now. "I can't believe you said all those mean things and just... left us to sit with them."

You look down, biting the inside of your mouth, your heart tightening. "I know. I'm sorry. I—I guess I couldn't handle you being disappointed in me."

Kara’s expression softens, her gaze finding yours. "I would never be disappointed in you," she says quietly, stepping closer until she’s just a breath away. Her voice holds a warmth that reaches past your defenses. "I just don’t understand why you went so long without telling me any of this. Why would you keep it all to yourself?"

"Because I was afraid," you admit, the words coming out barely above a whisper. You clench your hands together, holding back the wave of emotions threatening to spill over. "Afraid to lose you. To lose everyone, actually." Your voice shakes, and you blink hard, forcing down the tears currently burning your eyes. "I can’t lose you, Kara."

Kara reaches out, her hand gentle as it lands on your shoulder. "You’ll never lose me, Y/N." she murmurs, her voice filled with an honesty that you can’t ignore. "But I don’t want you to feel like you’re losing yourself just to be my sister, or some idea of what you think I need you to be."

You breathe in, taking in the truth of her words, letting them settle into the cracks you’ve been trying to ignore. "It’s just... it’s exhausting, Kara. Trying to keep up with you and everything I need to be. And it hurts. All of it."

"I never wanted you to feel like that," she says, her voice filled with regret. "I thought we were doing this together. But now I see, I was so focused on how much having you by my side helped me, how much I needed you, that I didn’t think about how it felt for you."

You meet her eyes, finally allowing yourself to let down some of the defenses you've built up. "I didn’t know you needed me, I just felt like I was just fading into the background. Just the other hero, the one who's supposed to fit into your world. I didn’t want you to feel like I was letting you down."

Kara’s thumb traces gently along your cheekbone, wiping away the last of your tears. “You’ve never let me down, and you were never just another hero.” Her words are like a balm on a wound that’s been aching for too long. “Maybe I got so used to you being my strength that I forgot to let you lean on me too. But you’re not just my little sister or my backup out there. You were never second best to me. You’re everything good that I wish I could be.” Her voice wavers, a crack slipping through her steady tone. “I’m sorry that I haven’t always shown you that. And I’m sorry I made you feel like you had to be someone you didn’t want to be.”

The raw honesty in her voice, the way her words strip away the last remnants of the defenses you’ve held, reaches deep inside you. You take a shaky breath, nodding as the fear that’s held you silent finally dissolves, leaving only the truth between you.

"I guess things will change a little if you really want me there."

"Oh trust me, knowing you're there with me it's what makes me like supering so much." Kara’s hands cup your face softly, grounding you in this moment. “And Rao, Y/N, I’m not in love with Lena. I never was, and I never will be. And even if I was…” She pauses, her gaze unwavering. “I would always put your happiness above mine.”

“Don’t say that,” you whisper, your heart clenching.

“It’s true. You mean everything to me. But also—Lena’s just my best friend. I love her, but not like that, okay?” Kara’s voice is gentle, pleading. “Please, do something about it. You deserve to be happy with her. You’ve held back for so long, and I hate that you felt you had to.”

A small, trembling smile breaks through as the weight of everything you’ve been carrying finally lightens enough for you to throw your arms around your sister, pulling her into a hug that’s been building since this whole thing started.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you and pushed you away,” you whisper, a smile breaking through the last of your tears. “I missed you every day.”

“I missed you too.” Kara’s voice is soft, and you can hear the smile in it—a warmth that melts away the tension in your body, easing the ache you’ve been holding onto. The closeness, her arms around you, feels like the piece you’d been missing all along.

For a moment, you both stay like that, wrapped in the quiet, finally able to be vulnerable without walls, without all the unspoken weight between you. In her arms, with her smile in your ear, the ache doesn’t just ease—it starts to heal.

Kara places a soft kiss on the top of your head, her arms still holding you close. “Now go. Go talk to Lena.”

You pull back slightly, hesitating. “Are you sure? Are we… good?”

Her smile is gentle, warm. “I think we haven’t been this good in months. So yeah, I’m sure. Go to her!”

Your heart swells, and you lean in, pressing a grateful kiss to her cheek. “I love you,” you murmur, the words carrying more weight than ever.

Her smile widens, eyes shining. “I love you, ie.”

With that, you take a steadying breath, feeling stronger than you have in a long time, ready to face whatever comes next. And next is… Alex.

You knock on her door, expecting to be greeted with anger, but instead, you’re met with a soft, “Hey! Come on in. We’re still unpacking!”

“Auntie!” Esmé jumps onto your leg, her face lighting up with joy as you scoop her up and plant a smooch on her cheek, earning a delighted giggle. “Where were you?”

“Oh, I went to visit your grandma.”

Alex glances up from her bag, raising an eyebrow. “Did you really go to see Mom?”

“Yep.” You set Esmé down, and she dashes off, following Kelly's call to help organize her room—basically code for leaving you and Alex alone.

“So I don’t have to go full mom on you?” Alex asks, crossing her arms playfully, and a smile tugs at your lips.

“Guess not.”

“Good.” Alex steps closer and places a gentle kiss on your forehead, her warmth soothing. “Sorry I didn’t keep your secret.”

“No, Alex, you were right. It was eating me alive. I don’t know how I didn’t explode earlier. I’m sorry for making you feel guilty; you are the perfect big sis.” You offer her a soft smile, genuine gratitude flowing between you. “I’m glad I finally got it all out in the open.”

Alex reaches for your arm, her touch reassuring. “Feel better now?”

You nod. “A bit guilty from all the yelling, but yeah. I guess I needed that. It’s like the weight’s been lifted.”

“Have you seen Lena yet?” she asks, her expression turning serious.

“No. Just Kara.”

“Alright then. Thanks for stopping by. Don't leave without saying goodbye to your niece again. And go confess your feelings to Lena, or I swear to God, I’ll tell her myself.”

You narrow your eyes at her, half-serious. “Just because this worked once doesn’t mean it will work again.”

“Hmmm, I’m pretty sure it will.” she says with a smirk, a glimmer of encouragement in her gaze.

You give her balcony door a soft knock, peering in to see Lena by the couch, a drink in hand, looking more tired than before the vacation. Her bag still sits half-unpacked nearby. At the sight of you, she scowls but heads over, unlocking the balcony door and stepping aside for you to come in.

“Hey, Lena,” you offer, voice soft.

“Don’t ‘hey Lena’ me,” she snaps, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. “I’m mad at you!” She turns abruptly and heads toward the kitchen, leaving you standing by the door, unsure whether you should follow. “How could you? We were all excited to spend time with you, to finally have you around without your lame ass excuses, but you spent most of the time there hiding behind a six-year-old, and then you just got up and left without a word!”

“Lena, I’m so—”

But she doesn’t let you finish. “Did I not deserve a goodbye? Do I really mean so little to you?”

The hurt in her voice strikes deep, and you take a step closer, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. “No! Lena, you mean everything to me! I just… I couldn’t face you. Not with everything I was feeling.”

She finally turns to look at you, her eyes sharp, a blend of anger and pain. “Then tell me. What was so unbearable that you couldn’t talk to me? Because I was there baring my heart open to you. And you —you just left me! You left us! What's the point of a family trip if you're not even there?”

You swallow hard, heart pounding as you force yourself to meet her gaze. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. You're right, I never should've left."

"Of course I'm right!" Her hands turn into fists, angry bubbling up and you let her have her outburst, because now you understand how important they are. "I tried everything, Y/N. I begged you for your time. I tried to have you open up to me, but you just kept shutting me off! You've been shutting me off for months now, and God, what did I do to you?” Lena’s voice breaks. “What did I do to deserve it? Why do you hate me now?"

"I don't. Lena, baby, I could never hate you." You force yourself to come closer even though you are terrified of her reaction to what you're about to say. "I actually love you so much, I was scared of the feeling."

"What?"

"I love you, Lena. I've been in love with you since the first time I saw you."

Lena’s expression falters, the anger flickering into surprise, maybe even shock. She stares at you, words failing her as she searches your face, as if trying to decipher if she heard you right, if you’re serious. The silence stretches thin, and for a split second, you’re sure you’ve gone too far, that you’ve finally broken something you can’t fix.

But then, slowly, Lena’s shoulders drop, and a softness replaces the tension in her eyes. “You… you love me?” she whispers, her voice barely more than a breath.

You nod, a shaky exhale leaving your lips as you finally let the words settle into the open. "I love you. I know it might seem impossible after how I acted, and I know I messed up by pushing you away. But, Lena, every single moment, I’ve been in love with you. It was just… easier to hide than to risk losing you over it.”

"God, you're—you're infuriating, Y/N Danvers!" She grabs the collar of your t-shirt with surprising strength, prompting you closer. "If you didn't spend all of your time running and hiding from me, you would see that I'm also in love with you!"

“You are?” you almost stumble back in shock, but she’s holding you so tightly that you barely move. “You really feel the same?”

"Yes, darling.” Her tone is suddenly so sweet and soft, and yet she doesn’t let go of you. “I really do feel the same. Now you already made me wait for too long, so… Would it really kill you if we kissed?"

Your heart races as her words sink in, the weight of her admission filling the air between you. You stare into her eyes, searching for any hint of doubt, but all you see is warmth and a fierce determination that makes you feel like the only person in the world. 

"It might kill me if we don't."

Without a second thought, you close the distance, your lips finding hers in a rush of pent-up emotion. The kiss is electrifying, a fire that you both had been trying to deny for far too long. Lena’s hands release their grip on your collar and tangle in your hair, pulling you closer as if she’s afraid you might vanish again. You melt into her, relishing the sweetness of the moment, the soft taste of her lips awakening every nerve ending in your body.

When you finally pull away, breathless, Lena’s eyes shine with a mix of mischief and sincerity. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“Actually, I was terrified.” you joke, and she rolls her eyes at your antics.

“Well then, how about another kiss to make you feel less scared?”

You laugh, the sound bubbling up as you lean in again, savoring the sensation of her against you, the way her lips move with yours, the warmth radiating from her body. In that moment, the past feels like a distant memory, and all that matters is this connection between you both.

As you pull back, breathless and smiling, Lena’s gaze is intense, filled with promise. “You’re not going anywhere this time, right?”

“Never again.” you reply, your heart full of certainty. “I’m right where I wanna be.”

[randomfoggytiger]

The Scully Family In-Depth (Part XXV): The Mulder-Scully Family, a Convergence of Fate and Freewill

Philes, we have arrived at the last part of the Scully Family series-- and what better way to end this than on a victorious high note?

A SYZYGY

Scully's journey to motherhood is complicated. In The Jersey Devil, she hasn't seriously considered children because she doesn't have a serious relationship. In Home, she draws pointed parallels between her mothering considerations and Mulder's genetic makeup (post here.) In Detour, she brings Mulder a celebratory cheese platter (assuming he'd taken the case to get out of the conference with her.) In Dreamland I, she longingly rambles about other people living normal lives with their houses and children and dogs. In Milagro, she uses Padgett as a means to grab Mulder's attention (posts here.) In The Unnatural, she brings tofutti rice dreamsicles, flirts about her partner's childhood, and happily joins him for a very early or very late birthday gift. (I posit that after The Unnatural, she runs to her doctor in hopes of discovering some slim chance to become pregnant; and this kicks off the IVF arc-- to be discussed below.) She and Mulder keep the family planning book in his office after their attempts fail (as glimpsed in Amor Fati and Brand X.) And she finds out she's pregnant right after her partner has been abducted by aliens.

That's not the full tangle of the IVF and William arc, though-- lest we forget who she was trying to have a baby with... and that Mulder has consistently refused to consider "a normal life" (and parenthood) each time the potential stared him in the face.

The Jersey Devil sets him up in direct opposition to "a normal life", Home shows him reinforcing that decision quite clearly (video here), and Detour and Emily double and triple down. Yet... he wants to be the father of Scully's baby during the IVF arc ("The-the answer is yes.") And he knows William is his-- "What we feared were the possibilities. The truth we both know"-- and is proud of that fact (in spite of the PTSD and drama at play, post here.) When, and why, did he change?

And because this is The X-Files, the tangle doesn't end there. In the previous part here I explored the failed convergence of fate and freewill in the birth, life, and death of one Emily Sim-- all in all, a failure to launch for Scully’s dreams of motherhood, normalcy, and partnership. In the wake of her daughter’s death and the loss of the X-Files, Mulder and Scully are forced to reassess the parameters of their relationship: Mulder has to confess (in his own way) to the nature of his reliance on and feelings for Scully, or lose her forever (Fight the Future); and Scully has to work through her self-doubts and trust to whatever lies between them (The End-Fight the Future.) Therefore, when Season 6 begins with a below-the-belt punch to both, they squabble and feel hurt (The Beginning) but ultimately magnetize back together (Drive.) Repeatedly (One Son-Agua Mala; Milagro-The Unnatural; Field Trip-Biogenesis.) It’s a push-and-pull, back-and-forth, give-a-little-get-a-little routine they settle into, allowing both the space to breathe, to test some boundaries, and to draw back and regroup whenever they so choose. This contributes to the buoyancy and low-stakes struggle of their personal relationship, especially compared to the world-ending tribulations (or professional bug bears) that dog them day in and day out. There are personal struggles of course-- massive ones-- but nothing that does not glue itself back together as quickly and efficiently as possible.

Still, there's one last key component in the Emily Sim, IVF, and William arc. Fate and freewill carry a huge, huge role in Mulder and Scully's work: particularly, the ways both view their work. @nachosncheezies put it quite succinctly: "That Mulder looooves free will, but especially when confronted with the big things he tends to falter - Samantha might have been taken by men based on his parents' choice; Scully's continued presence on the Files and beside him is a choice (and the horrors she suffers are not an inescapable Fate caused by her proximity to him, but something she chooses to endure and continue to risk, because she values the rewards). That Scully wants very much to believe that there's a greater power guiding things, but gets so shook when directly confronted with the notion that God might indeed have more control than she or the people around her." It's how Mulder chooses to view his work (telling Scully “I don’t think this is about justice, Scully. I think it's about fate" in Paper Clip); and how Scully chooses to view not just the work ("I need something to put my back up against"), but her choices and Mulder's choices and life's good and bad, gruesome and beautiful realities. Fate and freewill themselves are constantly locked in battle, weaving themselves into the narrative before getting snagged against each other and having to be unpicked. This is mainly due to the markedly inconsistent writing; but it's there, on purpose, to serve as the show's backdrop.

And under the fate vs. freewill heading, there is one last snarl we need to take into consideration: Melissa Scully and the impact of her legacy on Scully's personal journey. It's Melissa who encourages her sister to "follow your heart, and it'll take you where you're supposed to go" in A Christmas Carol; it's Melissa who speaks for her sister in One Breath, it's Melissa who tells her sister Mulder is still alive and warns her she's "shut off from her own intuition" in The Blessing Way, it's Melissa who died in her sister's stead, it's Melissa who leads her sister to her daughter from the afterlife, and it's Melissa's influence that leads her sister to her own voice and conscience in all things. Melissa acts as the bridge between Fate and Freewill: the heart is destined for something, someplace, somewhere; but you must choose to listen to and follow it to find where you're supposed to go. As @deathsbestgirl put it (post here), "but missy's presence is still felt, her influence on scully outlives her. scully is always trying to reach melissa, to feel her. melissa is always guiding her, and as scully moves further on her path (with mulder), allows herself to learn more about what happened during her abduction/because of her abduction (something melissa wanted her to do shortly before her death), like with emily and the red & the black...every step brings her close to melissa."

So: when do these ideas-- Scully's journey, Mulder's journey, the battle of Fate and freewill, and Melissa Scully's legacy-- culminate and begin to manifest in the Scully Family Series?

The answer: the IVF arc.

THE STARS ALIGN… AND FALTER

Where does the IVF arc fall? That can be debated until the end of time; but for me personally, the only math that maths adds up to a late Season 6 timeline (post here)-- right in the midst of rule breaking and negotiations; and right after Mulder’s perspective begins to shift, allowing him to see the possibility of “life on this planet.” 

Scully’s second attempt at motherhood quickly devolves into the same pattern as the first. Struck one day with the urge to retest her fertility (after a very early or very late birthday present, I suggest), she rushes off to a (seemingly last minute) medical checkup. Scully books an appointment without telling her partner (despite her hopes immediately revolving around him when she gets a positive second opinion-- which means, he was on her mind when she booked the first one, as well.) Further, when Scully returns to the FBI, dispirited, she attempts to deflect his inquiries after Mulder catches up with her in the elevator. But he won’t let this go; and she sighs, admits she’d been at the doctor’s office, then drops into silence. 

“Don’t make me guess,” Mulder quips, afraid it’s cancer. 

Skipping over Per Manum’s dialogue gaffe-- one which contradicts Emily’s timeline-- we arrive at the revelation: “I am not yet ready to accept I won’t have children,” she admits. 

Mulder begins to walk away, but gives in to his conscience, turning back to explain, “Scully, there’s, um, there’s something I haven’t told you-- and I hope you would forgive me and understand why I kept it from you.”

Tense and confused, Scully asks, “What?”

“During my investigation into your illness, I found out why you were barren. Your ova were taken from you and stored in a government lab.”

And while this, too, could fall into showbible blunder, Scully’s next line salvages it: “What? You found them?” puts the stress on 'found', implying her shock comes from his discovery more so than the details he’s sharing. 

“I-I took them directly to a specialist who would… tell me if they were okay,” he replies, softly, head down and unable to meet her eyes: because they weren’t okay. Scully is too distraught to make this connection, yet. 

“I… I don’t believe this--” 

“Scully, you were deathly ill and I… I couldn’t bear to give you another piece of bad news.” Mulder finally looks up, ashamed but sincere. 

Devastated, she’s pulled up short. “Is that what it was, it was bad news?” 

He nods, blinks, maintains eye contact as he slowly explains, “The doctor said that the ova weren’t viable.”

Immediately, Scully distances herself from this pain, punching the elevator button and insisting, “I want a second opinion.” 

Mulder, knowing what his partner’s doing, tries to stop her-- physically reaching out to block the doors from closing-- but gives in when Scully flinches, then shoots him a pleading look: if she doesn’t collect herself alone, she will fall apart. Giving in (what else can he do? his actions have hurt her deeply), he lets her go. 

Scully’s quest for family is once again stymied by the Consortium; and she is spared, once again, from the traumas of tampered motherhood. 

After an undetermined time later, Dr. Parenti joins her in the waiting room with good-- for him-- news: “Ms. Scully, I’ve got a good report for you. I’ve looked at the ova you’ve given me and consulted with some of my colleagues; we all feel that, with the proper approach, it might be successful.”

And that’s the insidious, despicable underbelly to the IVF arc: Dr. Parenti spoke with his colleagues about one Dana Scully-- i.e. he, the Consortium plant, knew exactly who she was and exactly what this vial of ova meant. 

And he, Dr. Parenti, was likely going to use her ova and her womb for his benefit; and if he and his colleagues felt generous, he'd grow her real, replacement child in a tube somewhere to swap with at birth (like he did with Kathy McCready.)

Now: could Scully have had a perfectly normal IVF pregnancy, a one-in-a-million shot that wasn’t tampered or interfered with?

Put bluntly, no:

Dr. Parenti’s clinic was an extension of the arm of the Syndicate, either carrying out his own experiments with their permission or carrying out a niche of their experiments for them. 

The Consortium crumbled in One Son, but vestiges remained-- carrying out CSM’s directives in En Ami and Requiem, and leaving their research facilities scattered, here and there, undetected. 

Parenti worked out of one of these research facilities; and, whatever his "research" had been before the Syndicate’s collapse, it couldn’t have been much different than it is when Scully and Doggett investigated him in S8. 

Further, even if Scully came to his clinic sometime before or after One Son, his purposes were already set in place; and like Scanlon and Calderon, he could, in all probability, take the evidence and disappear into thin air if detected. Meaning, he is ruthless and one-track minded. 

Meaning, Scully’s chances-- which were nil because of the ova’s unviability-- were most certainly tampered with: either to produce another half-formed alien child-- which he might swap with a test tube baby with varying degrees of health-- or to sabotage any chance of success. And, unfortunately, if he wanted to do the latter, he would simply have said there was no chance of success, at all. 

As much as the IVF arc appeals to me, the fact that Parenti walked into the room with a malicious glint in his eye, declared there to be a chance after he consulted with his colleagues, and knew full well who those were and how Scully factored into their equation… there is no way, shape, or form that Scully’s pregnancy would have avoided trauma of some sort: miscarriage; induced labor, perhaps unconscious C-section, and a baby swap; or death. 

Unaware of these odds, Scully collapses in a chair; and before she can process this news completely, Dr. Parenti begins to pressure her for a now, now, now timeline: the odds would be better the sooner they started. Another hint at his greedy machinations. 

“We can start right away?” she asks, stunned-- and, again, her pattern kicks in: hurry, hurry, hurry; don’t think; this is the right thing to do; run; go, go, go. 

“Well, you’d need a father,” the doctor advises; but Scully’s face falls at ‘anonymous donor’, her eyebrows pinching and her eyes dropping at the realization that she’s going to have to ask Mulder to be that donor. Of course she is; and that certainty makes her immediately uncertain of his reaction. “Unless you have someone in mind?”

“Yeah. I, uh….” The music drops, uneasy. “I just have to figure out how to ask him.” 

Mulder’s acceptance, Scully’s reaction; and Mulder’s comfort, and Scully’s tears I’ve already been recorded here; but it bears repeating for this analysis, if in brief. 

We aren’t shown the moment Scully asks for Mulder’s help; but we are shown his shiny eyes and shy eagerness, her anxious timidity and teary delight when he accepts. Mulder comes through that door ready to have a part of that “more” his partner is seeking-- in short, to be a father. Scully mistakes his breathless premise as rejection, and reveals (with her down-turned eyes and crestfallen, “I should have known” expression) that she doubted he’d ever accept this request; or, more accurately, doubted he’d want to change their partnership. It’s part and parcel-- she believes-- of the one step forward, two steps back jig they’ve been doing recently; but it also hits her in the pain point that his turn-aside in Emily (“Are you two the parents?”) created.  

“Th-the answer is yes,” he assures, poking at her arm; and her face transforms into varying stages of overwhelmed delight, unable to believe he wants this, now, with her-- that he wants to share this with her-- quite literally wants to take part in this with her.

And, I believe, both know what this truly means: that Mulder is signing on to be an active father. Despite turning aside from Emily Sim, he did his utmost to protect and save her. That was a responsibility he was thrust into, and one he didn’t turn away from... but one he chose to keep distance from, as well. There is no distance here: “the answer is yes”, after all. 

Again, I shall briefly touch on the moment they receive devastating news (and, again, the post is linked above.) 

Mulder is napping on Scully’s couch, waiting for her return from her appointment. She isn’t surprised, necessarily, to see him there; and he makes no bones about the fact he “must have dozed off” as time crawled by. Seeing her sad face, hearing her defeated, “I guess it was too much to hope for”, he gathers her up in his arms, comforts his partner during her wailing, “This was my last chance!”, and promises her, “Never give up on a miracle.” Mulder has learned to believe in this possibility, and he doesn’t want to let that belief go. 

Already, we see the blurred lines of their partnership: 

After her request and his acceptance, Mulder greets Scully at her apartment-- a marked change in routine from their usual meeting spot (his apartment or the basement.) 

Mulder is just as anxious and excited as she is at the possibility of success. 

And though her “last chance” has failed, he refuses to let the idea of her having a child and achieving her dreams go-- they came this close, he assumes, on the rarest of chances. What’s to say they won’t again? 

Scully, meanwhile, has her own tells: 

She is not (too) surprised to find Mulder in her apartment, despite both of them meeting (more often than not) at his place. 

She clings to him and cries on his shoulder-- the third time in their partnership (Irresistible, Fight the Future, Per Manum.) 

Not only does she cling to him and cry openly, she does so in stark contrast to her previously closed-off emotions (in Emily, and in the beginning of Per Manum’s flashbacks.)

She almost kisses his forehead-- a callback to her authoritative claim in Fight the Future; and one she does not repeat until she reaffirms that claim in Amor Fati-- but ducks at the last second, and vaguely lands on his cheek. 

She allows herself to be consumed by his soothing hug.

In conclusion: neither person was denying what this was to them-- a chance at their own form of a normal life, a bit of hers and a bit of his all blended together in one perfect, successful last chance. But, alas, that was not to be. (And, considering Dr. Parenti’s intentions, that was a good thing.) 

A second attempt; but the first joint failure. 

A “NORMAL LIFE” DEFEATS FATE

And here we reach the grand conclusion of the question of freewill versus fate. 

As previously discussed, Mulder views his quest in righteous terms-- Fate-- to bear up under it; while Scully decisively argues her position in factual terms-- Freewill-- to make sense of it.

“This child was not meant to be,” he warns about Emily; and “Don’t give up on a miracle”, he encourages after the IVF: both statements are lacking perspective and personal agency.

“I don’t see what choice I have," she responds about the adoption; and “I guess it was too much to hope for," she mourns after the IVF: both statements are laced with insecurity and defeat. 

The lingerings of these resolutions are resolved in Amor Fati and all things, respectively. Mulder solidifies his “life on this planet” after being dragged into the bowels of “another life, another world.” It is Conscience, personified by Scully, who confronts his weakness, calling him a coward and leaving him to make an active choice of his own freewill. Mulder chooses to leave behind bigger aspirations, higher callings, greater, inactive purpose to open his eyes to the true world-- the truth-- and cling to her: an integration of freewill. She is, he realizes, his touchstone. Scully solidifies her decision to stay with Mulder-- not the files, not the work, not their romantic relationship-- after being given a chance to take another path. And it is Conscience, personified by the running woman-- revealed to be Mulder-- who confronts Scully’s self doubt and directionless spiral, leading her one step at a time to her own resolution and peace. Scully chooses to let go of her doubt and indecision, trusting in her instincts to guide her: an integration of fate. He is, she realizes, where she belongs.

Both of these journeys finally sync up in all things: Scully tells Mulder about talking to God and falls asleep, Mulder rambles about paths not taken and tucks a blanket around her. And Scully of her own freewill joins Mulder in bed; and together they create their own miracle-- a sprinkle of fate and a boatload of personal choice. 

William, then, is a perfect combination: not because he is an alien super soldier or a divine proof of God or a result of the corrupt, freewill actions of other forces or "the key to everything" fated into existence through White Buffalo prophecy to save the world (@deathsbestgirl thoughts and post here), but because he is human. Normal. A miracle because he is not at all what anyone except Scully and Mulder expected him to be.

“We feared the possibilities,” Mulder acknowledges while holding his days-old son. “The truth we both know.” 

“Which is what?” Scully asks-- also one guided by definitives. 

And he gives her one-- a kiss-- to mark this new chapter of their lives. 

What is that new chapter, you wonder? 

In Requiem, Mulder and Scully miss sign after sign of her pregnancy, fearing she is suffering from close proximity to an abductee ship. She shuffles to his hotel room, sick and weak; and he tucks her up and whispers, “There has to be an end, Scully.” 

Mulder is a man of half-sentences and vague meanings: there has to be an end for Scully, for all she’s sacrificed.

“I want you to go home”, he admits.

“Oh, Mulder, I’m fine,” she whispers; but it’s not the full truth. 

"No, no, I've been thinking about it: looking at you today holding that baby... knowing everything that's been taken away from you. The chance for motherhood--" Scully's face scrunches in pain: she can't pretend this wound has healed, "--and your health and that baby. I think that... y'know, maybe they're right." Mulder speaks gently, contemplatively: and though this moment is focusing on Scully's losses, there is more going on-- particularly in Mulder himself.

"Who's right?" Scully asks, waveringly.

"The FBI," he answers plainly, sorrow and realization blending together."

Scully doesn't respond, brows wrinkling in confusion.

"Maybe what they say is true-- but for all the wrong reasons. It's the personal costs that are too high."

Scully doesn't respond, again: more importantly, she doesn't deny. And although she doesn't agree-- although she's stuck in worried limbo, afraid for her health, stumbling over the fact of her infertility-- she seems to be considering his words, or the intent behind them. Even more importantly, Scully doesn't know what Mulder's point is: that she resign? That they resign together? Is he turning over a new leaf just when she's learned to accept her choices and his ways for what they are?

Like Elegy, both are “afraid of the same thing”: that the final toll of this quest will consume Scully. (Just as they "feared the possibilities" in Existence.) She tries to escape this sense of doom by working, by nearly fighting her partner to go back to Bellefleur when Krycek and Marita show up dangling special intelligence. Mulder, however, is tired of loss, tired of years and years without closure. He floats the idea of leaving, for her sake; and doesn’t push it farther. But it’s on his mind, her health and her happiness; and her health and her happiness, he ruminates with mature clarity, might not be sold in bulk at the FBI. On the flip side, Mulder doesn’t float the solid idea of him leaving, too: he hasn’t let go: he's yet to make a decisive choice to leave (ala Vienen.)  

Mulder returns to Bellefleur; and Mulder is abducted right before Scully finds out she’s pregnant. 

There’s a deeper dive to be had regarding Mulder’s rewritten demise in Requiem and second rewritten death in Three Words. Be that as it may, Mulder is forced onto the alien spaceship; Mulder is tortured for long months against his will; and Mulder is “killed” and buried before he can learn about the existence of his child. Here, again, is the Fate conundrum: Mulder's "fated" quest lays claim to him now that he begins to contemplate another path. As for Scully, she decides to fight-- and fight hard-- to get her partner back, railing against Kersh’s edicts, throwing water in Doggett’s face, asserting her authority over extraterrestrial life, and leading the charge in her own efforts to locate the spaceship.

She almost loses her baby, three times, due to the stress and drive of her choices; yet, Mulder still “dies”-- Fate, it seems, has won. But Mulder is alive (through Skinner's choice); and her hard work pays off when he blinks awake. 

In short: Mulder and Scully beat the machinations of Fate-- he outlasted the torture and death intended for him; and she fought back against others’ intent for her partner, the files, and their child.

A brief note on Scully’s Season 8 pregnancy: in A Christmas Carol, Emily, and Per Manum, we see her throwing caution to the wind to grasp after second chances, unwittingly falling into traps in a vain attempt to capture happiness. In Requiem, Within, Without, and Roadrunners, however, she's pivoted priorities, ruthlessly upping the ante to reclaim her partner, thrusting herself into dangerous situations without first taking the baby’s life into account. It's the same, though inverted, psychological underpinnings: desperation, motivation, and determination. She had to face motherhood alone with Emily Sim; and she was able to face the IVF failure with Mulder’s support. But carrying Mulder’s baby to term and raising it, alone, is another thing; and one she is aware comes with a predetermined end date on the files. Scully justifies the risks and peril-- at first-- in Mulder’s name. Scully bandies about the country trying to keep the files going in her partner's stead, for his return; but the truth is, she is using the files to escape from her reality. And as she finds out in Alone, Scully’s also unable to let the files go-- which surprises her (even though she'd previously refused to let them go during the three months her partner was buried. Perhaps Scully's self-awareness was out to pasture, as often happens when she's buried under stress and grief, e.g. Beyond the Sea, Irresistible, Memento Mori, Elegy, etc.)

This proves a few things: 

As much as Scully proclaims she “wants to settle down, have something approaching a normal life”, and as much as Mulder insists she should go (Fight the Future, Requiem), Scully can’t or won’t leave until it feels right. “Follow your heart, and it’ll take you where you’re supposed to go,” Melissa told her, once (post here); and she was completely correct about her sister. 

As much as Scully committed to leaving the FBI for Emily or the IVF’s sake, she wasn’t ready either time; and was pushing that thought away with countdown clocks and ticking time bombs. 

Scully chose to stay on the files for the entirety (or most) of her pregnancy; and drifted back on maternity leave, conflicted. Saving Doggett’s life one last time and meeting Agent Leyla Harrison assured her that there will always be more believers to take up the cause. She is convinced her decision to leave was the right one, and lets that part of her life go in good conscience.  

It's Three Words, and Mulder is alive! All, however, is not smooth sailing. He is alive but withdrawn, riddled with wounds and PTSD; and Scully is confused and hurt, riddled with guilt and expectations. 

Three Words unfolds, and they get through it together; Empedocles unfolds, and Mulder begins to embrace his role as ‘the father’; Vienen unfolds, and Scully is vexed that her partner ran off to a potential death without remembering his child; Vienen resolves, and Mulder quits; Alone unfolds, and Scully is drawn back to her work while Mulder keeps drawing her away from it; Alone resolves, and both have relaxed into their role as X-Files retirees and impending parents. Mulder chooses to leave, and has taken steps to solidify that choice; Scully realizes she hadn't let go, and makes with her transition.

Yet, we have the madness of Essence and Existence.

The question-- for Mulder at least-- of Fate or Freewill hasn’t been sufficiently settled: in Essence’s opener, he ponders, "But has our ingenuity rendered the miracle into a simple trick? In the artifice of replicating life can we become the creator? Then what of the soul? Can it too be replicated? Does it live in this matter we call DNA? Or is its placement the opposite of artifice, capable only by God? How did this child come to be? What set its heart beating? Is it the product of a union? Or the work of a divine hand, an unanswered prayer, a true miracle? Or is it a wonder of technology, the intervention of other hands? What do I tell this child about to be born? What do I tell Scully? What do I tell myself?" Scully, predictably, doesn’t want to entertain more doubts or heartbreak after her previous scares; and has stuck her head decidedly in the sand (i.e. The Blessing Way, Memento Mori, etc.) That child is his, he knows (post here); but Fate, he feels, has played cruel tricks before. There are already two metaphorical graves for Scully’s children; and another one either grown from a tube or destroyed with Calderon’s abominable experiments. 

The show boils the entirety of (then) canon down to its essential themes: the truth they both know, but the possibilities they fear; Mulder wants to believe, and Scully's afraid to believe.

As previously mentioned, Mulder is caught up in doubts, then conspiracies; and he flails around for answers. When he rushes to her apartment and tries to help her pack, Scully becomes more and more heated at his non-answers.

"No, just stop! Can you tell me what's wrong? Is it something to do with my baby?'

"No," he assures gently, "your, your baby is fine." Then his gravitas shifts, and he adds hurriedly, "It's you who's in danger now, Scully."

"From who? Mulder, from what?"

"I don't know--" that's not enough for Scully, nor her anxiety, "--I'm not sure. I'm not sure about anything. I just know I got to get you out of here."

Finally, she yells, “Look, Mulder, look, I can't take this! I can't live like this—as, as the object of some unending X-File.”

Mulder, pushed to his extremis, finally tells her what she needed to hear for most of their partnership and especially after her pregnancy, his death, and his resurrection: “This isn't about the X-Files, Scully. It is only about you. Now, you are going to have this baby and I'm going to do everything I can to protect it.”

These two statements speak volumes: Scully and Mulder have both chosen to put the files behind them.

Why is this so important? Because for the first time in each pit stop towards parenthood-- towards expanding the Scully family, if you will-- this baby and its safety is not an x-file for Mulder, is not another life that wasn’t meant to exist; and this baby is not an x-file for Scully, is not tied to a traumatic, stolen moment from her past. She wants one area of her life to be free from conspiracy and collusion; and he wants the baby (and Scully) to be safe, once and for all.

We’ll keep Existence brief because its nonsensical, illogical, and frankly stupid writing decisions could be studied as a “How Not To” guide. After sending Scully away due to his fears (and relapse into a Freeze response, post here), Mulder comes to his senses and flies out to Georgia, arriving too late to prevent any real danger and missing the birth of his child. Scully, meanwhile, gives up; and allows herself to be schlepped away to the middle of nowhere, giving birth before an audience of unfeeling monsters. Suffice to say, despite multiple factions breathing down their necks and insisting this child is a proof of God or a weapon for or against the planet, William’s birth confirms that he is, indeed, a normal child: a plot twist to Fate and the creatures who attempted to play god. 

If we tune down the unnecessary noise, one key detail sticks out: Scully did not know the sex of her baby. When trying to barter for her baby's life, a mother will do anything to humanize her child to its threat. That action is one with the highest chance of success-- and a medical doctor trained in the FBI would know this. In fact, we've seen Scully use this technique before (ex. in Monday with Bernard.) Yet, she doesn't: she pleads for "my baby" and "please don't let them take it." 'It' is the clearest sign of her ignorance (and was purposefully written that way, I believe-- a two-fold "What is the sex?" and "Will the baby be taken before Scully herself knows?" dose of climax anxiety.)

But does this theory hold up under closer scrutiny?

We know Scully is shown the sex in Per Manum, but that is revealed to be a false result intended to deceive her. There was so much confusion afterward about real babies and alien babies that it was a mess to sort through; and Scully switched doctors, regardless, to ensure her safety.

She likely didn’t want to know anything more after this point, refusing to acknowledge that something might be wrong. This is in line with many, many other examples of her almost blind avoidance when confronted with a truth she doesn't want to face.

When Mulder mentions the connections to Parenti’s clinic in Essence, she tries to shut the conversation down; and when he replies, "That's-that's all I'm trying to do. Just make sure nothing happens to you; that this baby you're carrying is born without any surprises”, she stares him down angrily-- further proof Scully won't entertain these thoughts willingly.

“What we feared were the possibilities,” Mulder confirms in Existence: Scully had those fears, too. Avoiding the sex would be a way to put her fingers in her ears and experience a “normal”, profoundly uninteresting last two trimesters-- “Didn't you have to wait with us?” she tells Maggie. 

An that brings me to another interesting note: her behavior is not dissimilar to Bill Scully setting up shop in an exact replica of his childhood home, trying to copy and paste those traditions for his own family-- which included decorating the nursery in his sisters’ “old” room. In other words: he was recreating Melissa’s past (their past) without referring to her death, just as Scully is escaping fearful possibilities by recreating a the ignorance of the nostalgic past. “You keep things so bottled up,” Maggie worries (post here); and she is deadly accurate. 

Back at Scully’s apartment [x] days later, Mulder arrives; and, for the first time that we see in the series, opens her door with his own key (post here.) 

This is incredibly significant. It cannot be overstated. Scully’s own mother hired a baby nurse to assist her daughter because Scully’s privacy is so finely tuned that Maggie knew she wouldn’t want guests over. Mulder himself only ever dropped in after a knock at the door, even after his resurrection. And, although he had things of his at her place (in all things, @unremarkablehouse and @touchstoneaf's post here) and she had things at his (in Orison, post here), the two hadn’t solidified their cohabitation. Until now, when he waltzes in, greets her guests comfortably, and strolls in to meet and hold his son. And Scully looks up, smiles blissfully, and hands their child over. 

Mulder is enamored, is in awe of his baby; and that look of bliss and wonder is everything Scully could have hoped for.

“William,” she names, after Mulder's father-- a man who bucked the Consortium as much as he could (post here), who gave up and gave in (post here), and who decided, of his own freewill, to own up to his mistakes at the last (post here.)

In short: a shot at Fate. 

After laughing at her partner's shot at Skinner, Scully questions, "I don't understand, Mulder-- they came to take him from us-- why they didn't."

“I don't quite understand that, either. Except that maybe he isn't what they thought he was.” Another shot at Fate. “That doesn't make him any less of a miracle, though, does it?” A third shot at Fate. 

Encouraged, she smiles. It slips as she admits, "When I became pregnant, I feared the truth." More evidence of her head sticking firmly in the sand. "About how. And why. And I know that you feared it, too."

Mulder has an answer already-- he's given this thought since William's birth. "I think what we feared were the possibilities. The truth we both know."

“Which is what?” she asks; and he leans forward and shows her: the final blow. 

Fate is soundly defeated: Mulder, the boy who lost his sister, who set aside a life to find the Truth, has found happiness away from it-- has chosen his own truth. Scully, the woman who chose then doubted her choices, has obtained peace-- has chosen to leave the files after finding her truths, too.

Not only is this ending the culmination of their journey to parenthood, but it also resolves their character arcs: life on this planet, something resembling a normal life, and a manifestation of a bond and willpower stronger than death. 

Last but not least, it also encapsulates the journey’s of each of their family’s legacy-- and on a more personal level, the culmination of their sister’s legacies: Samantha Mulder’s gifted closure (post here) and Melissa Scully’s intuitive guidance (posts here, here, here, and here.)

(But what if William had been inexplicably magical? What if he had had alien powers; or was a creation for and fulfillment of higher purposes? What if he was, in short, the key to everything? 

Then Fate would have won the debate: William was the key to everything; and would be hunted down or chased until evil is defeated, or he saves the world. As Mulder and Scully conclude in The Truth's ending speech:

“I want to believe… that if we listen to what’s speaking, they can give us the power to save ourselves.”

“Then we believe the same thing.” 

In other words, Fate is predetermined; and humanity will be destroyed if they don't listen to and heed its warnings and thunderings. Which would effectively destroy eight years of build-up and resolution: Fate as a tempered option, Freewill as a vehicle for growth and change, Conscience as the deciding factor. It would destroy Mulder and Scully's individual and mutual arcs, their son's conception and birth, their sisters' losses and legacies, their families' virtues and faults, failures and victories. In short: it would be a complete mess.)

CONCLUSION

And that brings us to the conclusion of the Scully Family In-Depth series! 

Thanks for reading!

Enjoy~

[pinkydee10]

Dear GOD today’s LAES and SAMS episodes broke me.

But I am so PROUD of Moon’s emotional development and how he acted

Spoilers undercut;

First of all, Moon was able to recognize that the first thing to do was to let Lunar explain himself and even stopped Monty from beating him up

He also let Solar and Sun be in on the conversation of what to do next instead of making the call himself like he would’ve done in the past, and even let them voice how much they didn’t want to do this either but have too

I honestly expected Moon to just drop the “You’re not welcome in this house” but the fact that he first explained that what if it hadn’t been Earth, but Dazzle or Jack, and that if it was an accident or not he shouldn’t have run away, makes me so proud of him

I love how Moon only yelled once the entire conversation. I love how Moon told Lunar that he’s still family, that they still love him, that he’s still his little brother

I think a fair portion of us expected Lunar to just be on the streets, but no. Even though Lunar isn’t even allowed in the daycare, Moon said they’ll still send him money and help him find a place

Moon being specifically upset about Lunar using his emotional withdrawnness makes a lot sense because Sun, KC, and Lunar are the only people who have been in his head. And the fact that Lunar used that connection against him, something he used to do to Sun, hurts in a way many people can’t even begin to understand

The fact that Earth is going to be the one that makes the final decision on if Lunar is welcomed in or not once she’s stable makes me very happy as her getting hurt is what started this

I think I finally started crying when Lunar sounded so defeated and left after Moon begged him to pull himself together

Over on the SAMS side of things, Moon was clearly able to recognize that they all were hurting. His twin senses were definitely tingling when he woke up and heard Sun

He was able to realize Sun was having a nightmare and try to wake him up, not hesitating even when Sun almost hit him with a fireball. He just kept asking who Sun was talking too

Sun wishing he could have both Moon and Nexus hurts in more ways than I can count. I think Moon finally understands this, but Nexus never could

The Old Moon would’ve just sent Sun back to bed, but Moon tells Sun he’s taking him to his lab to make sure he’s physically alright. He tells Sun he doesn’t care about what time it is.

While I think him mentioning Sun is a bit of a low blow, I honestly think he only said that to convince Sun to go

Welp, I’m off to cry in the shower

I just want our babies to be happy DAMNIT

[trials-of-a-spirit-worker]

I was also an English major.

Read the porn.

It's fine!

That's why conservatives and their dumbass mouthpieces always putting their asses in everything piss me off.

"I have the right to tell you you have a porn addiction." You have a right to shut the fuck up. That's your right. Shut up.

And I know what some of you fuckers are gonna start with: "oh, they have a right to feel how they feel about this topic. They have a right to speak and express themselves." Shut up. SHUT UP. You've been falling for the same tired shit they've been doing for years.

It isn't an expression of free speech or freedom when THEY seek to take your freedom to enjoy the shit you want to enjoy away!

It isn't freedom when they're backed by the pieces of shit who strive to take your reproductive rights and freedom to love away! It's not freedom when they're trying to ban anything they deem unseemly and now your queer friend is something that should be locked away or even eliminated.

And yes, that's what they're doing! That's the whole goal. Always has been. Because everything regarding this non rigid, very rule driven baby making only rules about sex. Sex for pure enjoyment is seen as horrible in their eyes and they're making it everyone's problem! From the bullshit Christianity/white savior angle of "saving" people to the control of people's bodies. It's all a ploy for control. And everytime some "unorthodox" speaker comes with their little "hot take" they're just spreading the ideas of the far rights aim for control. People like that are just mouth pieces for a bigger more evil agenda.

It's the slippery slope angle with them. Always is. Because it allows them to cast a wide net of shit they don't like under the guise "protecting kids" or "keeping family values" or some innocent sounding shit like that. But then more and more things are seen as offensive or unsafe then all of a sudden, nothing is allowed and control is taken. That's how they are. Stop allowing them to cast wide nets.

Sex is not bad, romance is not bad, expression of desire is not bad. It's entirely human. But there will be so many folks out there ready to shame people because they're chained by a belief and a system that will shame the fuck out of you for having basic human attraction or needs. And they will either use the extreme and awful cases or they will make every instance they don't like extreme and wrong.

People who spout shit like that and the overreaching hands that back shit like that are the EPITOME of "give em an inch and they'll take a mile" stop letting them do that!

It's all fun and games and laughing at BookTok until you can't get on AO3 anymore, as someone who likes both romance and fanfic.

[ventbloglite]

"I actively block trans mascs if they reblog posts about transandrophobia." - haha you're so funny for disliking an oppressed group for talking about their oppression because it makes you personally uncomfortable to acknowledge it :) Co-opts the antisemetic 'truthers' insult and misuses the 'white baby' format to insult trans mascs who speak up - you're sooo right for doing this, you are such a good person sticking it to bad people for doing this, it's not infantilising or terrible at all that you consider the only 'good ones' the ones who accept their oppression without complaint :)

"Transandrophobia is just an excuse to be transmisogynistic!" - you're so right bestie, trans mascs just love pretending to get murdered, SA'd, outcast and oppressed because it's fun, all those reports and stats are just part of a larger conspiracy, you're so clever for picking up the secret 'I hate trans women code' in statements like 'Transphobia affects me in this specific way due to my being a trans man and I wish that I did not have to suffer through this'.

"You only have an issue with the TMA/TME stuff because you're being forced to confront the fact that you are part of the privileged patriarchy when you convinced yourself you were actually the opposite." - hahaha soooo funny to tell an oppressed marginalised person that they are actually the oppressors due to specifically being men! This is absolutely not a flawed worldview which absolutely allows the current oppressive system to justify itself based on your agreement that men/women have a specific non-overlaping set of experiences in which women will always be victims and all men will always want to and actively oppress them.

It's almost like you're judging them for specifically being people who have transitioned towards masculinity/manhood, that you specifically do not understand how being trans impacts someone's manhood namely denying them systemic power (whether they'd ever choose to wield it or not), it's almost like you've buildt up all these little lying predjudices in order to justify saying nasty things about trans mascs and calling for them to be silenced, nay even laughing at the very idea that they could be oppressed, enjoying their silencing, their forced detransition, them being too scared of judgement to come out of the closet, almost like you're reveling in the oppression of trans people specifically trans masculine ones.

Now, if only there was a word for that...

[rosesradio]

Annabeth had been the baby and favorite of camp half blood once...and that somewhat still remained true for the older campers this dynamic steeps in the titan army. Luke, Alabaster and even Ethan who hated her as much as he wanted to be her . The tension on the battlefield could not be understated Percy hated every moment of it. So did Thalia. But what could Annabeth do about it ? This was all the resuslt of a time of her life where both of them weren't around.

ugh, the dynamics here are /so/ compelling.

because you’re right, ethan hated how much attention annabeth got when he wasn’t that much older than her. he would train arguably harder, longer, and more dangerous than her, and still he wouldn’t get even a fraction of the attention she did. most of all, he was jealous of how luke gave her attention, how she clung to his arm like Velcro, especially in their younger years. ethan would have definitely clocked annabeth’s crush, wether luke did or not, and luke’s feelings for her (platonic & familial or not so platonic & familial, whichever way you slice it), make ethan spiral more than anything. he wonders if luke gave him attention, if others would soon follow. he wonders if luke would be enough, all he really wanted.

ethan views annabeth as spoiled, but she’s really anything but. she doesn’t have any real friends, only older campers who feel pressured to take care of her. she doesn’t even have thalia, one of the few people she actually wants to be there for her. she is viewed as the baby & the favorite, & is therefore put in a box she can’t get out of. she’s not taken as seriously for years, even when she excels at the war games. she isn’t allowed to go on a quest or even leave to explore the mortal world outside of field trips or (gods forbid) trips to see her father. she doesn’t /want/ to be the coddled favorite, she wants to be on the same level as the older campers, as the heroes she looks up to…even if those feelings of wanting to take care of annabeth are what wakes luke up and saves the war.

and then there’s thalia, who wakes up in the middle of everything. she’s pretty perceptive (her cynicism helps more or less in that), and probably was able to clock certain things as making sense despite the horrible events (example: her understanding luke’s bitterness towards the gods lead him astray). even so, she doesn’t think it’s fair. it’s not fair that the remaining TA members have a soft spot for annabeth, who thalia intended to die protecting, when they continue to fight against her & every other demigod who used to be their friends. it wasn’t fair that they had come to love annabeth, but held none of the same hesitancy for the tree that had protected them for years. underneath her hardened layers is a sensitivity like a bruise. just because she launched luke off the cliff doesn’t mean part of her didn’t want to fall right down with him.

and then there’s percy, an underdog who does eventually make friends (arguably easier than annabeth, imo annabeth’s specific flavor of neurodivergence makes it harder for her to make friends because i enjoy projecting 👍). the thing is though, the TA never cared for him. there are moments like in tbotl in which luke asks for annabeth to be spared in order to talk to her about joining the TA. i have to wonder if percy ever felt bitter about this. he was in a really vulnerable spot when he first got to camp, and luke was there only to pull the rug out from under him. i wonder if there’s a small part of percy that feels jealous of annabeth in the same way ethan does, thinking that if the circumstances were different, maybe luke and the others would be his friend. and it’s a sick thing, why would he want to be friends with demigods who have tried to kill him? but all at once percy can’t help but feel that way, seeking out validation and envious of annabeth, because she wants to throw away something that by birth he was never going to receive.