#they chose to take the time to do this and I want to acknowledge that

[styluswritesdc]

DC Rogues with Nurse Reader

General Headcanons + GN!Reader (gender not specified)

follow up post to this!

Riddler/Edward Nygma

Its obvious that you'll be answering a lot of riddles, right?

For every tablet he takes you'll either need to answer a riddle, and if you cant do that, you'll have to give him some gossip at least!

After awhile of building up a repour, he will flirt with you.

This, at the beginning, might be a test to see if you're easily manipulated in order to help him escape, but after awhile of you rebuking his efforts, he'll find himself disappointed that he cant get your attention.

He might ask you why you chose to work here, in this hell hole. he wants to know about you.

if you get him a pack of cards or some sudoku puzzles he will really like you. you might be spared come the next breakout...

Scarecrow/Jonathan Crane

"tell me, what's your biggest fear.." buddy I just walked into your cell just take your fucking medication.

Do tell him though. otherwise he will slowly begin psychoanalysing you and it will get uncomfortable real quick. suddenly he's bringing up your relationship with your father?? you're the patient here man.

if you're diligent, respectful and indulge his questions, he might actually acknowledge your existence.

ask him about his work, as a psychologist that is. He will go full lecturer mode and tell you about his work in parts over multiple visits to him.

bring him a book or two from the library to ease the boredom.

if you treat him well, lets say next time there's a breakout, he might not spray you with his latest formula.. just yet.

TwoFace/Harvey Dent

He's hostile. regardless of who's fronting. as his cell is divided in two, one side in shambles, the other nice and neat so you can tell who you're dealing with from day to day.

respect the coin. if he denies bloods or medication, come back later. the only other option would be the guards holding him down and forcing it, which sucks for everyone, and they will lose trust in you.

its better to work around them, and respect them.

please get his coin for him. the guards take it frequently as they're unruly and tend to be difficult.

you'll win their favour by just being kind. plus on the next breakout, you won't immediately be shot on sight!

Killer Croc/Waylon Jones

Oh poor Waylon. my heart aches for how he's treated, especially in the Arkham games. like an animal they want to forget even exists.

He is a human, and if you treat him like one, you will immediately be better than every other staff member there.

you will rarely have to get bloods, to monitor his condition.

be gentle with him. he feels a lot of pain due to his condition. don't add to it.

it will get to a point that Waylon will get pissed if its a different nurse. you take blood well and it doesn't hurt too much and doesn't leave a massive bruise under his scales.

Bane

For the most part he's just silent and calm. He understands you're just doing your job and he doesn't really care to resist.

The only things he questions you on is what specific medication he's taking, the side effects and how it will effect his body.

his body is his temple and he takes care of it!

get him a book, he wants to keep his mind sharp whilst in here.

he also uses recreational time to lift weights and exercise.

Harley Quinn

Shes brilliant. such a treat to care for.

genuinely so understanding! i mean she was a psychologist here after all. she also cared about her patients and appreciates that you do too.

She will natter on about all the asylum gossip! trust me, you'll learn a lot about the other inmates.

please talk to her! a bit of human companionship does her well. it stops her from going anymore crazy than she already is.

Poison Ivy/Pamela Isley

oh sweet child, you're disillusioned with the world. She hates the idea of a meat bag like you coming anywhere near her.

However, if you respect her, she'll let you tend to her.

Please ask her about plant and gardening tips, she'll be happy to indulge. plus you'll actually know why your orchid plant hates you and keeps wilting.

you're a meat bag that she tolerates.

[broadacre]

Continuing our own Machete order rewatch of Star Wars (Andor, Rogue One, IV, V, I, II, III, VI), my sister and I watched Empire Strikes Back and, yeah, it still holds up. Although, after the Battle of Hoth, there's not much Rebellion stuff in it. It's more focused on developing the main characters from the previous film. So, we see Luke's flaws while training with Yoda, Han and Leia's prickly romance, and, Vader ruthlessly choking any incompetent Imperial officer.

Interestingly, without its high command, we also get to see the Empire in its bare bones, just an old guy, his right hand and three ships filled with nervous space nazis. We finally meet the Emperor ("and his name is Palpatine!"), but he's not angry about his Death Star exploding, instead, he gleefully talks about making Luke to join him. This brings to mind a thought I had while watching Andor Season 2, inspired by Carro Rylanz saying the ISB was running a shadow government, not at all false. We do know Palpatine rules the Empire, but actually he doesn't care about the hows and whys, he just wants results (and more power). Of course, he's the big dictator, but, as we saw many times in Andor, all the oppression, racism, colonialism, torture, abuse, genocide, didn't just come from him. It came from the people that chose to do those things. All the moffs, generals, soldiers, etc, the Empire gave them a pass to be evil, and they accepted it.

I think it's important to acknowledge, like in any fascist regime, it's not just one person taking control of everything, they have followers. Like Syril, people that follow their Empire thinking it's righteous, but that somehow fail to see their crimes. Or Tarkin, who knows the Empire is evil and relishes on their acts of destruction.

And then there's Luke. He doesn't support the Empire, but learning Vader is his father, it's a huge blow to his identity. He realizes he's connected to the oppression of the galaxy, and even receives the offer to rule it with Vader. In despair, he lets himself go, choosing death (he doesn't die, but still).

[fellthemarvelous]

Thank you!! If I have to see one more clueless take on Satine's character I might implode.

I have seen her blamed for the creation of Death Watch and it drives me mad because Death Watch are extremists with the main objective of killing her due to her peaceful ways. They wanted to continue the tradition of bloodshed and violence while the rest of Mandalore wanted peace after centuries of civil war. Death Watch aligned themselves with the Sith because of their hatred for the Jedi, and a lot of Satine's personal philosophy came from what she learned after being on the run with Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon for a year. She rebuilt Mandalore after that and her people thrived until Maul murdered her.

The number of people who want to defend war because it was "traditional Mandalorian ways" is appalling. Satine offered her people a new way of living and they very much needed it because their history was so steeped in violence and loss of life. She knew the cost of war better than most and staying out of the war was the right thing for her to do for her people. Even Obi-Wan acknowledged this despite the fact it placed them at odds during the war because he knew she was doing what was best for her people. He was there when she was grieving the loss of her family after the last civil war. He knew how important her stance was. He helped her during the Mandalore Arc while the rest of the Republic was trying to hunt her down after she was framed for the creation of Death Watch.

Satine haters are so desperate to make her the bad guy that they outright ignore the fact that she was right about everything during the war. She was right to stay out because she saw it for what it was and she refused to be bullied into taking sides.

Her love for the children of Mandalore was unmatched too. She made sure the schools received enough funds so the children could receive a proper, well-balanced education, and she wasn't afraid to introduce them to outside points of view. She invited Ahsoka to teach a class on government corruption and how to put a stop to it, a move that helped her weed out the fact that Almec was using the black market and imposing a new tax on the citizens of Mandalore because he became greedy. He tried to torture Satine into signing a document that labeled her a traitor so he could overthrow her, but it was her own strength of character and her belief in the Jedi that helped her take him down.

Palpatine and Dooku saw her as a threat to their war effort and treated her as such. She was chosen to be the leader of the Council of Neutral Systems for a reason, and there were thousands of star systems that chose neutrality over war.

Satine was always transparent and honest, and that's why people trusted her. She was an example of true leadership during a time of galactic turmoil because she refused to bow to the wishes of those who only sought power and glory. Even Padme admitted that she wished she could follow Satine's example because the war was taxing on everyone and she could see that things only seemed to be getting worse instead of better.

Satine said that the moment people committed to fighting they already lost, and we saw Yoda eventually reflect the same sentiment at the end of season six.

The war was orchestrated by Palpatine and too many people choose to overlook this and blame Satine for her stance or the Jedi for fighting instead of the actual villain behind all of it.

So this person had a terribly long post criticizing (hating) Satine and I tried to read it I really did but it was utter nonsense?? So, here we go, countering the points that were made in the first half of that post because I truly couldn’t read the rest

No she’s not a “terribly written character” you simply don’t understand her character. She has strong morals that don’t align with the (often corrupt) morals of certain main characters. Yes it’s true that the writers didn’t handle her very well (okay who am I kidding they used her as a plot device, especially her death and I have a whole other analysis on her death) but to say that’s she badly written is simply ignorant.

No her character doesn’t go against the point of the show. One of the main themes of Star Wars is resistance against corruption. Need I remind you of The Corruption Arc?? Some of y’all are beginning to sound like you’re defending wars. Are we at least on the same page regarding the fact that Wars Should Not Happen?

No her opinions aren’t there just to contradict Obi-Wan’s. My god, now I will have to analyze Obi-Wan as well because, no, that man doesn’t like killing people. No he doesn’t enjoy violence. He defends people against the separatists because that’s his job as a Jedi but even against Maul he doesn’t seek revenge. Anakin is the one who has (at times !!!) enjoyed violence. Not Obi-wan. He believes in democracy and peace, he simply doesn’t have Satine’s privilege to stay out of the war. So no, he and Satine don’t “disagree in something as fundamental as peace” they disagree on how that peace can be achieved. And they’re both right. Yes the Jedi have no choice but to fight in the war. Yes Mandalore would have only been destroyed sooner and returned to its original state of bloodshed if Satine had taken a side in the war. They are both right and that’s what makes their arguments interesting!!!!!!!!

Hold on I’m trying to remember if I had any other point to make

Oh yeah blaming her for the corruption arc is absolutely insane btw??? “Her neutrality stopped trade and so the prime minister was forced to turn to the black market” you know what else would have stopped trade?? Joining the republic and being destroyed by the separatists. Also I don’t remember my source for this so I apologize if it is incorrect but I remember reading that neutral systems traded with both the republic and the trade federation. The issue is that during wartime the prices of goods skyrocket which is why the black market came into play. And no Almec wasn’t “forced” to buy things from the black market to help his people, he was just a corrupt asshole who saw an opportunity to benefit from people’s suffering and he took it. And when the police didn’t do their job Satine took it upon herself to find the truth so as to stop more poisoned children from dying. Literally HOW can you make her be the bad guy of the situation

Sorry for how condescending all this might have sounded but I was genuinely upset at the mischaracterizaton

[yellllowstar]

slowly I'm recovering the beauty of discovery

(creature by half•alive)

(textless + timelapse below cut)

[theladyfae]

i think human nature/family of blood is a really good two parter in how it manages to show how full of shit ten is 🫶

[milfbrainrot]

something sick and twisted about how michaela was "training" simone to take over part of the charity, hence her being a mini-michaela, only for that to actually... pan out as accidentally training her to become her husband's new wife

[longagoitwastuesday]

I actually like the last chapter. I think the ideas are very good. I have my qualms on how some things were managed, as I always do, but I think shonen authors get tangled in the expectations of a shonen to the point it jeopardises their writing, often even when they're not lacking in skills

[crazyw3irdo]

[Image ID: A UQuiz results screen. The result is Benvolio. The description reads “it may be different from the others, but you were still doomed from the start. the horror of being the most reasonable one in the group is that means everyone else makes mistakes. everyone else must face the consequences. everyone else gets hurt while you stand there unharmed. no matter the warnings you give, they are still punished. you can’t help someone who the universe decided must be destroyed. i admire that you still try. if only the game hadn’t been rigged from the start.” /End ID]

op here, i’ve been trying my best to do “death of the author” n stuff with this, but i just wanna say that imo that’s not the philosophy of the quiz. i posted this in march so yknow pretty different emotional vibe at the time compared to right now, nor did i think this would blow up on the scale it did. from my pov i was doing like, a twilight zone episode. a “hey wouldn’t it be fucked up if this happened?” type thing.

when i was making it my number one priority was “make people realize romeo and juliet isn’t a love story” which informed the tone, and another high priority was “make people want to read/watch/understand romeo and juliet” which to an audience of tumblr users also informed the tone. (if you go back far enough to when this post was first getting big you can see i said multiple times i personally thought the quiz was funny)

also, because i was using the medium of “personality quiz” i was able to put the quiz taker directly into the characters’ shoes. (realizing just now a medium full of seemingly branching pathways & choices that all end up in predetermined places ties really nicely into it) in order to be a character from romeo and juliet, you have to be beholden to fate.

the quiz intentionally blurs the line between the fictional and real so i don’t blame you for interpreting it that way, and hell, if you continue to see it that way then i won’t stop you, this is just my personal interpretation of it and that’s yours. i won’t deny that if i made this quiz today i wouldn’t’ve made it so bleak, and that when i saw my notes spike in activity from this back on the sixth my immediate reaction was “oh no, i hope everyone’s okay and this doesn’t ruin their day further”

anyway long story short (too late) i also believe there’s hope in the world. there’s the possibility to change. we, as real people and not fictional characters, are not beholden to the strings of fate or the writing of an author. stay strong everyone.

made a uquiz

[acid-ixx]

oooh so did we divorce Bruce, or is this an infidelity type of situation?

a loving family, an unpalatable desire: first meeting (unofficial)

— masterlist ! ; related post !

a/n: a tad bit nsfw. if this sounds messy, spare me. i'm running on like 4 hours of sleep and the will of a thirsty man in front of an oasis. i told yall im going insane for this plotline. ofc a&a still has my heart but I also love to occasionally write for smth else in the sidelines. send in more asks yall hehe.

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

definitely an infidelity type of situation, anon! you see, the affair was caused by all mere coincidence. you were to attend with bruce in one of lex luthor's extravagant show of a gala, hold his arm for a brief moment when you walk out of the limousine, only to be abandoned right in the middle of the enormous room.

of course, the right reaction was to be pissed, to badmouth the very man who decided to court and entertain others in front of you; but you chose to stay silent, biting back choked tears by stumbling over the buffet table, only to be met with stupid, overbearing paparazzi and journalists.

so when clark kent rushes in to save you from stuttering over the dozens of microphones and cameras shoved right in your face, granting them access to your pathetic sobs— it's only right that your first reaction was to lean against his body, dismissing the hushed, harsh gossips of journalists.

it was at a time where you're not aware of his identity of superman. well, bruce barely permits you to enter the batcave, only if you stubbornly pester alfred does he let you, only to kick you, his darling spouse right out the moment you step on the cold, hard floors of the lair.

so it's not... a bad thing, right? your husband had a child with another woman, raised him as his own, didn't even bother to notify you with his infidelity— so is it your fault if you slowly start to fall for a man who promises you the world? who actually has the ability to give you the world in the palm of your hands? whose kid lets you pamper him without any fight?

sure, he's coping with... the loss of his previous wife but you're such a perfect spouse, so undeniably attractive, captivating in the hearts of many. your distant eyes, the way you bite the inside of your cheeks, the way your body sways back and forth as if begging for someone, your husband, to provide you a pillar of support in the suffocating heat of paparazzi.

he could be that pillar, could be your support.

when he first came up to you, his intentions weren't to obtain gossip about the oh-so silent spouse of bruce wayne. he didn't even want to acknowledge your marital status, palms already taking your wrist just so he could lead you off to somewhere quieter.

"it's an interview," he whispers an excuse to your reddened ears. but the buzz of his breath, the warmth, the caged arm on your waist tells you it's more than that.

but you don't fight back, you'd rather be anywhere than be the spotlight of a media that eats you up, makes you doubt your marriage even more.

so you're grateful that someone came to your rescue.

this would be the first time you ever saw someone as a savior, and it's not superman, no. it's clark kent, your resident, widowed, journalist.

and for clark's case, you warm his bed better than anything else. you allow clark this sense of respite, a break from heroic activities. allow him to be human, just as he allows you to play your fantasies of being a house spouse; you're perfect for each other.

to hell with useless marriage papers that don't even give bruce a sense of obligation to act as your husband, right? what can it do, when you're absolutely smitten with the current life you're living?

the first stages of your infidelity with clark is confusing, but very much welcomed into your already hectic life.

firstly, you convince yourself, it was all mere 'emotional cheating'. you began texting clark, he does too. an occasional greeting in messages, a passing congratulation for something, then the next it was good morning messages, 'have you eaten breakfast yet?, 'how'd the appointment go?'.

you don't know when it started, when your feelings started, when you began an intimate to romantic relationship with the man— all you knew was that the moment he revealed his superhero identity was the moment he decided to bed you for the night, the moment you grant the man, now your partner, access to every part of your depraved body, made him make you beg for more, giving him all the time in the world to kiss your imperfections, to fondle sensitive parts long untouched, to leave lovebites deeper and darker than the ones you caught bruce with.

you can't help it, he's unknowingly handsome, especially when he invites you over to his ma and pa's farm the next day, pretending to not notice the way your eyes hungrily flit over his topless body, sweat and budding pecs encased in a muscled form. over the course of dinner, you kept biting your lips, warm cheeks at the implications that clark merely wanted to sit next to you just so he could handfeed you, something about him being prideful that you'd definitely enjoy this week's harvest... but his fingers circling your thighs just seems to get you brain all haywired.

yet you stay, and continue visiting for long hours either way, enjoying the man's attention.

you know it's wrong, he knows it's wrong. but the way his son, jon looks at you like you mean the world, the way he's slowly starting to heal the longer you stay over at his place makes clark want to... what's the word? ah, he wants to turn you into his loving trophy spouse. all you need to do is provide jon with all the support in the world.

as for bruce... well, him and his family can deal with your absence for the first few months. but when the lingering feeling of emptiness becomes too much, when bruce no longer feels the worried gazes, or when dick can't hear anymore laughter in one of the supposed 'barren' rooms, or when tim's security systems tracked a missing device, one now in a completely different city.

that's when they start to yearn for someone they purposely let go

[twistedwonderlandimaginesblog]

Can I please request a headcanon of MC sharing a bed with Ace, Floyd, Kalim, Sebek, and Riddle? (Not nsfw at all, btw)

(This ask predicted the birthday card theme this year bless you)

Ace Trappola:

Ace was actually happy that he didn’t have to leave you with a goodnight. You fell into bed next to each other, watching some silly video on his phone that he wanted to show you, mentioning another video he should watch if he thought that one was funny. You’re cuddled close but it feels as natural as breathing, your head resting on his arm as you fought to keep your eyes open. The room fell silent as Ace pulled the blanket over you both, pleased that you wanted to sleep so close to him rather than making yourself comfy on the far side of the bed.

Floyd Leech:

You almost had to give up on sleeping next to Floyd. He seemed to have zero consideration that he was sharing his bed, flopping his limbs around lazily, almost as if he was testing you. He complained that he was trying to find a comfortable position to lay in now that you were taking up part of his space, but he scowled when you suggested you’ll just sleep on the floor. He soon finds an acceptable spot as he wrapped you in his arms, legs entangled with yours to prevent an easy escape for his prey. You count yourself lucky that he fell asleep at all, accepting your own lack of personal space as you had suspected you’d end up here from the start.

Kalim Al-Asim:

Kalim loved to talk. He talked about where his sheets came from, and why he chose this particular color that matched Scarabia’s uniform, then tells you the price of said sheets that has you wanting to sleep on the floor. They’re cooling and comfortable, unable to resist the temptation to rub your face against them in appreciation while Kalim laughs and tells you to enjoy them to the fullest. He has plenty of pillows and is willing to sacrifice them all to you for your comfort, seeming to fret over your normal sleep conditions as he wants you as comfortable as possible during your sleepover.

Riddle Rosehearts:

You feel like you’re observing an endangered species in their natural habitat, seated quietly on Riddle’s bed as you watch his nightly routine. You knew he was a man who valued rules and discipline but despite how tired you knew he was, he was still running through every single normal task to prepare himself for a restful sleep. Even the way he peels back the covers and slides himself under them feels entirely put together, until he faces you as if acknowledging he has a bedtime partner. He mumbles that he doesn’t know what to do as normally he’d fall asleep, but at the moment he just wants to talk to you… but he has an early morning. You teased that a little talking would be just fine, promising to have all alarms set to the appropriate time so there was no sleeping in.

Sebek Zigvolt:

Sebek is unnaturally stiff, not stepping a toe over the invisible line that led to your side of the bed. You allowed him a few moments of stress as he came to terms with how little sleep he would be getting before tugging at the covers, unable to fight your laughter as he glared. Telling him to lighten up doesn’t help but eventually he turned his body to you, mumbling as he asked if you were comfortable, if you had enough pillows, if you needed more of the blanket – You can tell the sleepier he got the more his feelings slipped through, and you gently caressed his face before telling him to just sleep.

[myntrose]

Missing You !

ೃ⁀��: how the l&ds boys are when they miss you.

a/n: I want these men so bad it hurts. n e ways trying something different from smau 🤍 this is part one, will write the other boys later. Also pls send requests !!

content warning: the boys missing you to the point where it's a bit concerning. maybe ooc. Suggestive in Xavier's part towards the end. Did not proof read srry💔

ft: Zayne, Xavier x reader (separately)

pt. 1 , pt. 2

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊ zayne (705 words)

the hospital holds an unnerving chill in the air. everyone can feel it; the staff, nurses, patients and the other doctors. and even though everyone could feel it, no one chose to acknowledge the source of this tension. because no one wants to disturb Dr. Zayne when he's in one of these moods.

It's another hard day for Zayne. The paperwork seemed endless, he's had to deal all sorts of patients, and he hasn't seen you in a week. You were out in a mission, nothing out of the normal for a hunter. But Zayne couldn't help but worry. He loves you, knows you're more than capable of handling yourself, but worrying about you comes as easy as breathing to him. It's second nature, an everyday thought.

Just as he starts to steady himself, the ink of his pen explodes on the report he was writing. He about ready to lose it, letting out a deep, heavy sigh. Zayne isn't usually this disoriented, and it's making him go mad.

Moving from his desk, Zayne paces around his office, opening your last message. it stresses him out that it was 2 days ago.

ms.hunter: ugh this mission is so dumb. smt happened and now it looks like ill be gone longer. im sorry babe :(((

He grips his phone a little harder. Paces the room with heavier steps. Breaths another sigh.

What is wrong with me?

A knock at his door disrupts his pacing.

"What?"

Zayne doesn't realize he said that with a bit too much bite, a bit too coldly. The door opens to reveal his new secretary, looking like a scared little lamb entering the lions den.

He looks at his secretaries face, realizing his harsh tone. Zayne murmurs a quick apology, asking his secretary if there was something needed.

"There's someone here to meet you, Dr. Zayne. Said they had an appointment?" The secretary trails their sentence like a question, knowing that Zayne shouldn't have any appointments today. Poor thing was shivering from the doctor's cold demeanor.

The veins on Zayne's head are almost visible now. On top of this day, an unscheduled appointment? Had it not been for his doctors oath to not harm, he would've denied this appointment.

Another sigh leaves him, as he tells his secretary to let the mystery appointment inside his office. Zayne makes his way back to his desk, head in hands trying to compose himself.

"You really shouldn't be sighing so heavily, Dr. Zayne. Heard it's bad for you"

Zayne's head whipped so fast towards the doorway, that you almost left bad for laughing at the action.

He blinks once, then another, before standing up and meeting you halfway across the room.

" 'm sorry for not texting you sooner, but I've been working twice as hard to get done with my mission-"

You don't get to finish your sentence before Zayne crashes his lips into yours. This kiss was desperate, filled with longing and want. It's almost startling, usually Zayne is more composed than his.

"would be more composed had you told me you'd be arriving back today" Zayne responds, perfectly reading your thoughts. Before you could say anything, he kisses you again. This time, he's softer, placing one hand on the small of your back and the other cradling your face.

You're the one to pull apart first, desperately needing air. Looks like your boyfriend missed you more than you realized. Oh, this was gonna be so fun.

Zayne scoffs, but he's still holding you close. "I do not scowl. It's just been a stressful week at the hospital."

You laugh at that. God, he missed your laugh. He missed you. He walks the both of you to his desk, where he sits you on his lap as he takes a seat.

"Did you miss me that much? It's only been a week."

"A week too long, my love"

While you and Zayne catch up, the rest of the hospital is glad that the chill in the air has died down. Looks like the staff knows who to call when their doctor is in that mood.

𓆩✧𓆪 xavier (570 words)

there's only a few things that causes Xavier to wake up. Either you shaking him awake, peppering his face with kisses, or when you steal the blanket from him.

Actually, it's mostly you that causes him to wake up. And right now, the reason why sleep escapes him is because it seems like you escaped the bed at some point.

Xavier feels around your side of the bed, only to be met with emptiness. Confused, he wakes up, and looks around to see the room still in pitch darkness.

2:34 a.m. It's still horribly early, so you wouldn't have woken up for work. Plus, Xavier knows your schedule better than he knows his. He knows that you don't have any kind of missions to attend to right now.

So, where were you? A sudden rush of thoughts occur at once, and Xavier can't help but assume the worst scenarios. He jumps out of bed and checks around the apartment.

Bathroom? No. Living room? Empty. Kitchen? Quite. He's going a bit crazy, because where did you go?

He just about to rush outside when he hears the sound of keys opening the front door. Turning to the sound, he watches as the door opens to reveal you.

You, holding a bag from the nearby 24/7 convenience store. You walk in, not realizing that Xavier was watching as you enter the room.

You're holding your phone in your other hand, staring at it. It wasn't until you looked up that you noticed you were being watching by your boyfriend.

Your words don't make it to his ears. Rather, he answers you with a question of his own.

"Where were you?" His voice is deep, laced with a serious tone that doesn't quite suit him. Oh no, was he mad?

"I went out to buy ice cream. I couldn't sleep and wanted something sweet. I texted you where I was!" Defending yourself, showing Xavier the bag with a few ice cream bars.

Oh right, he never checked his phone. Xavier pulls his phone out of his pockets, and opens his notifications to see that you in fact did text him where you were.

"Oh."

You move to the kitchen, putting the ice cream away. "Yeah, oh is right. What, d'ya think I just left without saying a work ?" You only meant that jokingly, of course. Turning around, Xavier is right behind you, caging you between himself and the fridge.

It wasn't until you looked at his eyes when you realized that, oh, he was worried. The realization sets in, and you understand what just happened. Xavier had woken up, and genuinely thought you were done.

Your eyes soften as you look at him, moving your hands to his face "Oh, baby, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you like that." Xavier melts into your touch, and you both stay like this for a while.

You speak up first. "Why don't we go back to sleep?"

Xavier opens his eyes, looking down at you. "Actually, I'm not sleepy right now. I think I'm hungry."

"Do you want some of the ice cream I bought? I got your favorite flavor- Xav- Xavier why are we going to the bedroom?"

"I said I was hungry."

"Oh...?!"

Later that morning, you had to call into work "sick" for both you and Xavier.

[sonicboomseason3]

a brief recap of what has been going on with the sonic movieverse in the past several months:

paramount has come out in public support of israel

keanu reeves, a man who has publicly rubbed elbows with none other than benjamin netanyahu, reportedly gets cast as shadow for the upcoming third movie

james marsden, the guy who plays tom, got exposed as having written a letter of support for a convicted pedophile

there's fucking??? zionist propaganda in the knuckles series???

kind of connected to the last point but adam pally, the guy who plays wade, is evidently pro-israel too

this is a complete and utter joke.

EDIT AS OF 4/30/24: if people see this version of the post, i'd really appreciate it if you reblog it instead of the other versions, as it's the most updated one with all the information that i want included. thank you :]

you know, it's been a few days since i've made this post, and some of you (not most) are staying determined in defending/justifying/giving the benefit of the doubt to keanu for that photo with netanyahu, whether it's because "it was a decade ago," "him being civil to someone he ran into at a party one time doesn't mean anything," "he's probably just silent because his pr managers won't allow him to speak up," etc. i've made my thoughts on the matter quite clear by directly responding to these people, but at this point, i'm tired of both seeing them in my notes and repeating myself, so take this as my final word on the issue.

i can't help it if you don't think the photo with netanyahu is damning, and i'm done engaging with everyone going out of their way to tell me that. i obviously disagree, especially after finding out that 1. the host of the party, arnon milchan, is a former israeli spy who has a history of developing israel's nuclear program and promoting apartheid in south africa (information that had broken out a few months prior to the party and thus would've been fresh news around the time keanu chose to attend) and 2. keanu has been caught hanging around at least two other weirdos, but if you don't find any of that to be cause for reasonable concern, then there really is nothing else i can say afaik.

with all that said, i'm beginning to realize how strange it is that these people's first instinct when seeing this post is to start debating about keanu's political stances without ever acknowledging any of the other bullet points. you guys realize that this isn't just about him, right? i know tumblr reading comprehension is known for being piss-poor, but like… you realize that i was trying to make a point of how there are MULTIPLE terrible things that have broken out about the people and company involved in the sonic movies, right? and yet, a lot of the people leaping to speak on keanu's behalf in my notes are completely ignoring the parts where i bring up paramount, pally, etc. all in favor of zeroing in on the singular point about keanu and making bad faith assumptions about me for holding him accountable. really makes one wonder where your priorities lie if, in a post that talks about so many other things, me accusing an a-list celebrity with, according to google, a net worth of almost $400 million is where you draw the line and apparently the only thing worth your acknowledgment.

ultimately, what i'm trying to say is that the intention of this post was just to gather up everything that i had been hearing for the past several months and put it all together in one place. there were a bunch of people who didn't know about at least one of the bullet points before seeing this post, and i'm glad that i could help inform them, that was what i was hoping to do! but as for the keanu thing, i've said pretty much all i can say for now, and i don't want to derail the original post even more than i may have already. unless something new comes up, i'm done talking about him.

[dilf-docs]

Snow At The Beach, I. Day One: Arrival

harry castillo x younger fem!reader

summary: you knew doing things without thinking was bad. so now, of course, your impromptu trip to iceland gets ruined by a man who claims you have ruined his.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (late 20s/late 40s), (eventual) smut, s2l, forced proximity, one bed, tons of angst, MATERIALISTS SPOILERS +more specific to be added per chapter!

word count: 3,266 words

side note: i feel like a man who fathers too many kids who he can't take care of lmao very fitting since it's father's day in my country!! i do have a present loving dad so i'm afraid my dilfism has been earned by other worse reasons. fun fact, it's also my 21st bday! yey (づ๑•ᴗ•๑)づ🎂 shot out too to the daddiest non-dad out there, pedro pascal!!!! (i know some of these things like hotel mishaps don't make sense since it's supposed to be a luxury place but idc do it for the plot!)

part: prev | masterlist | next

He feels stupid. Sitting at the airport with luggage for a week and a ticket to Iceland that felt more like a reckless choice every passing hour and less like the romantic getaway he envisioned. Surrounded by families, friends, couples and people by themselves who certainly don't look as miserable as he does. Lonely. His gaze lingers on the lovers, as some sort of punishment. He thinks of his brother and his recent marriage and the girl who got away. Lucy. He still doesn't know how to feel about it, but he definitely isn't feeling sunshine and rainbows.

Just stupid.

Harry Castillo, billionaire, deceived by the promise of love, taken away from him by a broke waiter of all people.

He boards the plane with rage, holding his handbag so tightly, the stewardess posted at first class asks him if he's okay. He nods, but he knows he's far from it. Spends all the five hours checking his email and pending files, yet he also knows he cares about it as much as he cares about his brother's Things To Do In Iceland list. Hiking, whale watching, romantic waterfalls and the promise of a wet enchanted kiss. Those were things to do for couples. Harry is fucking alone.

Sitting next to him is a man who snores. Too loud. His eye ticks. Who sleeps on a fucking five hour flight? Alright, Harry is irritable at the moment; he thinks he's right about this though.

The plane lands in between the views of white-coated mountains and green grass. Some people clap. Harry hates people who clap when a plane lands.

Who would've thought a real romantic and composed businessman could be this full of hate?

It's Lucy's fault.

Now, Harry's moved to the stage where he blames everyone else. Not shared guilt, just her fault. Entirely hers. For her icy blue eyes, like the lakes behind his window. As well as cold. For fawning at his apartment but not at his kisses. For acknowledging he was great. Because even then, she chose not to stay.

As the car drives to his chosen hotel, the Torfhùs retreat, he thinks about her again. Lucy and him. Blames her for not opening up. But, he didn't either. Slept facing the other side after their first night together, hiding scars under expensive bed sheets. On his knees and on his heart. Hard to love, wanting to. Embarrassed to feel all at once and even more to admit it out loud.

This time, as the car parks outside and he asks the driver for a few minutes to get out and accept he's on this trip completely by himself, Harry's at the stage where he takes all the blame. For expecting. For wanting. For forcing himself on her, because she did say she wasn't what he needed. But they did work out. Maybe he didn't try too hard. That he should've been honest about the surgery, despite it being eight years ago. Maybe he tried too hard.

Either way, Harry has lost.

He sighs one last time and gets down the car. His bags are already inside the lodge.

He's about to get inside the lobby when a figure walks past him, touching the handle before him.

"Sorry. You go first" to the unknown person, then reaches his hand, because despite the quiet anger and heartbreak, Harry Castillo's still a gentleman. Then holds the door open for them.

"Thank you" voice impossibly soft. To be confused with meek, but it sounds rather resigned.

They go inside, and that's when Harry notices it's a woman.

He notices other things, always an observer. Her walk, composed. She's pretending, he thinks. Her hair, held tight by a ponytail and the way it swings with each step she takes. But it's her floral perfume that catches his attention the most. He hates cheap perfume. Still, Harry can deduce it's not expensive yet not cheap smelling either. Just... natural. As in effortless. He decides he's okay with that.

"Hello" he follows behind closely as if they came together, unable to resist a weird pull. "I made a reservation last week. Room 10"

Direct to the point. Harry hates people who talk too much. Who bullshit and lie. Which is funny, given his... Nevermind. Embarrassing.

Harry would like this, if it wasn't for the fact that number 10 is his exact same room.

You are not an spontaneous person.

Not boring either, just nothing that makes you stand out in a crowd. Another young adult with a career, a cat, and a boyfriend.

You jog every morning and pay your taxes on time. You do groceries on Sundays and cleaning on Mondays. Your circle of friends is small and you hang out every two weeks at brunch. You take the same route to work, having memorized it by now. You have goals, dreams, ambitions and a clear mind.

Keeping a straight head won you a job that allowed you to buy an apartment in lower Manhattan. Home.

You remember the first thing you bought: a small forget me not that died three weeks later. An omen of the heartbreak to come.

What died was the most important thing one should nurture.

Love.

It was a slow death, too quiet to even notice. Subtle. Late office nights, arriving at a house cold and silent. The darkness that awaits the ones who aren't being waited for. Silk sheets replacing cheap ones but gone the warmth of two bodies who searched each other even when the weather wasn't cold.

You can't remember the last time he held you close like someone worth to keep. The last time you went on dates, first because of time and then nothing at all. Just not doing it. Like you didn't eat together anymore. Or that he kept forgetting your favorite things, things he held before close to his heart, as sacred as a prayer or a secret language only you could understand.

The language written in vows. The one when you swear your heart to only one person for the rest of your life.

Then it came down with a scream. Even later nights, but the previously occupied bed was now empty. It filled in the morning, but your heart stayed empty. In the tense air lingered the things unsaid and a perfume that wasn't yours.

You threw things, bit back like a wounded dog. And he returned the pain, doubled it.

"I'm seeing someone else"

You felt the shame and anger reside in your veins. Deceived. Almost a decade with him but she had taken the last dying months, and somehow, even if she had less, in the end, she won. The other woman. The one who was this prettier newer shiny toy that had taken your spot.

"I love her"

Words you thought would always be only yours. The promise of a husband to a wife.

So, in spite, childishly maybe, you took the saved money you had in your bank account and booked a flight to the farthest place you could come up with.

That's why you're sitting at Keflavík airport alone.

Iceland.

Booked a one-week stay in one of Iceland's most expensive hotels. Torfhùs retreat: cozy cabins in Selfoss, dressed in modern luxury.

"You could've used that money for a good lawyer" your bestfriend Danna chastised. "I know one. Her office is in upper Manhattan. She's a nepo baby, but trust me, she's great. Amazing"

But you needed to get away.

For just a moment, five thousand kilometers away, you could pretend everything was fine and your life hadn't turned upside down in a matter of weeks.

That your cat meowed in anguish, asking for his absence, present in his empty side of the bed and lack of clothes in the closet.

That seeing your pictures replaced with hers didn't bring you to tears.

That there wasn't a permanent ache in your heart.

Among the waterfalls, mountains and green grass, you could show the world you weren't crying in bed for what was already over.

No, twenty-seven year old Y/n, soon to be a divorcee, could have fun among one of the greatest sadness a person could experience.

"So, Iceland?" Danna asks, finally after you had sent a picture of the airport bar you were sitting at. Well, camping at. Trying to gather some courage to face a divorce and that getaway you always imagined, but by yourself.

"Yeah, mother fucking Iceland"

You had never traveled alone before. Took a long gulp of your Brennivín and prayed for courage.

Upon arrival, you lowered your expectations and hoped just for a good trip. When a man walked before you, almost colliding into you, but realized and held the door, a gesture so small yet one you hadn't experienced in so long, it made flush rush to your cheeks.

"Sorry. You go first" and his voice is so deep and raspy, every hair in your body raises to its command. It wraps you. Soothing. Like velvet.

"Thank you" you manage to say, and even if you sound tired, you try to express the warm feeling of gratitude.

You don't think he notices your voice crack, or how each step you take is labored. That you haven't been okay for a long time and that his gesture has had an effect on you, bigger than you'd like to admit.

As you walk to the front desk, you notice the man walking close to you, his perfume and faint smell of cigarettes wafting through the air.

"Hello" you pull out your printed reservation (yes, printed. You were just that prepared). "I made a reservation last week. Room 10"

You hear the door guy stop. The man from the desk hands you the key. A throat clears up behind your back.

"No, that can't be" and a little nervous yet entitled laugh.

You turn around. "Sorry, where you talking to me?"

The man nods, smile condescending.

"I think you're mistaken, miss"

"Y/n" you cut a bit harshly, the small chivalry long forgotten.

You're tired, sad and angry. You just want to go lay down and sleep your sorrow away.

"Y/n" he repeats, and you shouldn't enjoy how much it sounds on his gravely voice. Not when he's treating you like this. How was this the same man who held the door for you?

"Yes?"

"I said I think you're mistaken"

"I don't understand" you blink, slowly.

The man behind the counter starts to look distressed. "Allir, róið ykkur niður" (everyone, calm down)

"Room 10... That's my room"

You laugh and dangle the key in front of his face.

"No, it's mine"

The man looks at you like you're a naive kid.

"Here" he pulls out his own reservation paper. Printed as well. You ex-husband used to say it was a waste of paper. You'd like to prove him wrong and make this a silly Look, we're the same! moment, except this man is far from your friend. "Now you believe me?"

Room 10.

"Ég held að það hafi orðið mistök" (i think there's been a mistake)

You start to loose your patience. "Listen, mister-"

"Harry" with the same icy tone you'd used.

"Harry" you repeat, hating how smoothly it slides across your tongue. Almost as if you were born to say it. "I made this reservation last week"

The smug grin he sports irks you. "I did it a month ago"

"Kannski var það tölvan. Eða nýjasti gaurinn" the man says. He's started to sweat by now. (maybe it was the computer. or the newest guy)

You tap your feet against the floor, both impatient and annoyed. "So?"

The man smiles, enjoying this.

"By that logic, the room's mine" he replies cooly, pleased.

The color drains from your face. What are you supposed to do? You don't know the country or the language, not to mention the obscene amount of money you've wasted.

"And what am I supposed to do?" you ask, helpless.

"Book somewhere else" he drops, carelessly.

"Do you think money grows from trees!?" you raise your voice, losing your temper. Maybe it's the accumulated stress, because you never shouted at anyone. At least, not since you last argued with your ex-husband.

He doesn't answer to that.

"If you expect me to search for another place right now" you find your voice again, lower yet still sharp, "you're dumber than you look"

He scoffs. "You're dumb if you think you can book a place a week before your trip"

You laugh dryly. "Says the guy who's telling me to book a hotel right now"

He chuckles, a bit less meaner. "Fair"

"You're forgetting something, though"

Harry raises an eyebrow. "Yes?"

You grin, victoriously. "I got the key"

"I still have more rights to it" he says with a bit of a whine.

"What about manners? Women go first!"

"And your own? Don't be a child and accept I booked it first so I deserve it"

"You're ruining my trip!" you protest, spiteful.

Harry is as angry and irritable as you.

"So are you!"

The man behind the lobby, an elder man with ashes for hair who introduces himself as Axel the housekeeper, stands in between.

"Wait!"

You both turn at the man who had remained behind the safety of his desk, both nervous and distressed.

"You speak English?" Harry asks.

"Little" he replies, more embarrassed about the situation than his language knowledge.

"Thank God" you sigh, a little too relieved. "Please, help us"

"I try, just stop shouting. Guests don't like"

Your face feels hot and Harry's ears turn red at the tip. For some reason, seeing the once intimidating man who could easily own a room blush out of embarrasment is kind of adorable.

Ugh. You so need to get laid. Get yourself a viking, Danna had said.

"Sorry. We got nervous. A bit altered" you utter.

"I apologize as well" but he isn't looking at you. "We just want to understand why we both have the same room"

"I told her. Bad idea" he sighs, shaking his head. "Wife cares of this. She sick. New guy came. He ruined it" Axel points to the computer. "I not good with this. Nor english. Wife is"

You can't help but smile at the hint of hidden adoration the explanation carries. "She sounds like a great woman"

"A true keeper" Harry agrees. He can't help but be a romantic, despite it all.

(Despite never falling in love. Not knowing how to love. What it is to be loved)

You look at the him, stunned for agreeing with you or maybe at the way there's yearning laced within his words. Your eyes briefly dart to his finger without a ring, wondering. He catches your view when you raise it, which makes you turn away, embarrased.

"The best" Alex agrees with both of you. "Anna is the love of my life"

Something about growing old and counting wrinkles on the face of a lover. The tale of years passed but love standing across time. All that's left is the ache of the person you imagined spending the rest of your life with, slipping through your fingers until he wasn't yours. Like he never was.

"Hey, I have solution" he takes out another key from the drawer and hands it to Harry. "Here"

Harry takes it, examines it and then looks back at Axel, confused.

"It's for Room 10"

"Yes" like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

He blinks, slowly. "I'm not getting it"

Axel smiles, as if the answer is easy.

"Yes. You two share room"

It takes a few seconds for both of you to react.

"What?!" you shout in unison.

"That doesn't make any sense" Harry says.

"Yeah" you concede. "There's no way I'm sharing a room with him"

Harry scoffs, crossing his arms.

"What makes you think I would share a room with you?"

"Is the solution I have" Axel shrugs. "I apologize but it's only one"

You sigh, sitting on a chair while rubbing your temples. Your head and feet hurt. Your eyes are heavy and you feel like crying.

"I can't believe it... this is why I plan things on advance"

Harry rolls his eyes. "Maybe you learned your lesson"

"Oh, definitely" you roll your eyes as well, standing up in front of him, tone daring. "Never book a luxury hotel full of snotty and arrogant people like you"

"Yeah, and I'd choose better than a hotel who allows anyone"

"Actually, we have policies-"

You both interrupt Axel with a hard "Shut up!"

He backs away, raising his hands in defeat. You finally react then.

"Look" you say, taking a deep breath and clapping your palms together for any semblance of peace. "Shouting won't take us anywhere"

He pinches the bridge of his nose, tired. "Alright. What do you suggest then?"

You take out your phone, asking Axel for the Wi-Fi. Once you get signal, you do a quick search for hotels in Selfoss. All of them are as expensive if not more than this one. Why even bother? Not like you had any money left.

"The closest hotel is almost three miles away. And it's small" you comment, looking at the picture. "I'm pretty sure it's all booked"

You give him a little look. The disarming look, as Danna would joke. The look that won you free drinks and your ex-husband to look your way the very first time.

"No" he picks up, immediately. It seems Harry might be the only man inmune to it.

"It's the only way" you speak, stern. "Don't think I'm happy about it"

"Good" Harry seconds, acidic. "Neither am I, just to be clear"

"Just to be clear" you replied, annoyed. Probably at the fact it feels like a subtle rejection. Not like you care, anyway.

Harry looks at his bags on the floor and you look at your own. The clock reads nine, and after such an emotional rollercoaster, you feel the need for a good bath and a comfy bed. After a few moments of silence, Harry speaks, defeated.

"Are we really doing this?"

"Unless you want me to drive twenty miles to the biggest hotel in Selfoss. And pay for it"

I could, he thinks, but chooses to remain silent. "I'm not cruel"

Your lips curve up slightly. "I'm sure if good ol' Axel wasn't here, you would've wrestled me for this key to death"

Harry rolls his eyes, but a faint smile adorns his face.

"You're lucky I skipped Taekwondo classes"

"Taekwondo?" you chuckle, in disbelief. "I'd never imagine so. You look like a... finance guy"

"Can't a guy be both?" voice lighter, almost playful.

You giggle. "A millionaire fighting? Only if you're Batman"

He sends a wink your way, disarming you. "Maybe I am"

There is something about the man standing before you. Something that makes it impossible to hate him, even as annoyed as you are. Something that draws you to him. Impossible to ignore. A pull that bent knees and hearts.

Axel's raspy voice cuts the moment. "When room is empty, I'll give you new key"

"I like the sound of that" you agree. Then, you hold your hand up. "Temporary roomates?"

Harry chuckles at your antics, but accepts your hand nonetheless. His palm is so big, it practically swallows yours. It's firm and warm, the security of his dominant handshake engulfing you. You haven't realized you've held for longer than necessary until Axel intervenes about showing you your room.

"Temporary roomates it is"

Yet some things are meant to be forever, and you had a feeling Harry hadn't just crashed your vacation plan but your life.

cr: divider @kodaswrld / gif @a7estrellas / dts: @thecamiladiazuniverse @kaliispunk @manuymesut @QueenoftheAmazons

[ilovemarvel97]

Written in Our Souls - Part 3

Wanda Maximoff x Reader 

Summary: Wanda is scared.

Word Count: 3,535

Warnings: angst

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

---

Wanda’s POV

She’s here.

My soulmate.

Y/N.

The name burned on my wrist, glowing softly beneath the fabric of my sleeve like it had been waiting its whole life to feel this exact moment.

God. She was… she was nothing like I expected. She looked stunned, like she’d just found air after drowning. And her eyes—those eyes—locked on me like I was her whole universe.

For a split second, I let myself feel it. The connection. The warmth. The way the world just… stopped.

But then reality hit.

I’m engaged.

To Vision.

Everyone in this room knows it. I can’t do this. I can’t.

So I ran.

I turned on my heel and left before my voice could betray me. Before my hands started shaking. Before the name on her wrist could prove what I already knew was true.

Because if I let myself stay, even for one second longer…

I would’ve said her name.

And I would’ve never been able to stop.

So, I run. I run to my room where I share with Vision.

I slammed the door of my bedroom behind me and pressed my back against it, like I could somehow keep everything out—the truth, the panic, her.

But it was too late.

My wrist was still burning. Like it was begging me to acknowledge her. Screaming at me through skin and bone and soul that she was here. That she was mine.

I yanked up my sleeve. There it was—Y/N.  

Still glowing. Still undeniable. Still everything I’ve ever wanted but I thought I would never have.

“I’m engaged,” I whispered into the silence, like saying it out loud would make this easier. Like it would stop the ache curling up from my chest into my throat.

Vision.  

He’s kind. Gentle. He treats me like I’m fragile glass and makes me feel like I’m safe. He helped me when I was lost, when the world hated me, when I hated myself.

I said yes to him because it made sense. Because he was there. Love was supposed to be a choice…right?

But now that she’s here…  

Now that I’ve seen her face…  

Now that I’ve felt that—

It doesn’t feel like a choice anymore.  

It feels like gravity. Like a force pulling every part of me toward her without permission. Like something ancient and raw and true. Like I know her from a long time ago.

And I’m terrified.

I can’t breathe.  

My heart won’t slow down.  

My fingers are shaking and there’s a lump in my throat that won’t go away.

Because I saw the way she looked at me.  

Like she knew.

Like she’s been waiting too.  

And I ran.

God, what if I broke her?

What if that moment—that beautiful, perfect moment—was everything she dreamed about, and I just… destroyed it?

What if she never forgives me?

I curled up on my bed, pulling my knees to my chest as the burn in my wrist dulled to a deep, pulsing throb. It felt like heartbreak before anything even started.

I tried to block it out.  

Tried to remind myself of what I had.  

Of what I chose.

But the truth was louder than any excuse.

I met my soulmate today.  

And I ran away.

---

Few hours later.

I felt her coming before I heard the knock.

Like the air shifted. Like something inside me reached out without permission.

My heart was pounding so loud I was afraid she could hear it through the door. My wrist still ached—still burned—from the moment I saw her.

Y/N.

I whispered her name in the dark after I ran. Just once. Just to hear how it sounded in my mouth.

And now she’s outside my door.

I freeze. Maybe if I don’t move, she’ll go away. Maybe I can pretend this isn’t happening. But then the knock comes again—soft, hesitant.

She’s here.

Of course she is.

I take a breath and open the door.

And there she is.

She looks nervous, hopeful… beautiful. She’s glowing in a way that has nothing to do with the hallway light. And when her eyes land on mine, I feel the burn in my wrist intensify like it’s answering her.

God, help me.

“Hi,” she says, and the sound of her voice makes my chest ache.

Then she lifts her wrist.

My name. Bright and undeniable. Staring right back at me.

“You’re Wanda, right?” she asks, smiling like this is a dream come true.

For a second—I let myself feel it. I let myself wonder what it would be like to reach out and trace her name on my skin. To say yes and never look back.

But then the guilt creeps in. The panic. The crushing reminder of what I’ve done.

Of who I promised myself to.

Of Vision.

I shut it down. I shut everything down.

She starts to say it: “You’re my soul—”

I can’t let her finish.

“No. I’m not. Sorry.”

She looks stunned. Hurt.

She tries again, asking about the burn, asking to see my wrist. I can see how desperately she needs this to make sense. How much it’s costing her to stay calm.

And the worst part?

She’s right. My wrist is burning. It’s screaming.

But I lie anyway.

“No. It’s not your name.”

I see her break a little. And it kills me.

She’s trying so hard to understand. She’s not angry. She’s just confused. And I could fix it—I could just tell her the truth.

But if I do…

If I let myself fall into her, I’ll never come back.

So I raise the wall higher.

“Is that all?” I ask, cold and distant, like I didn’t dream of her face long before I ever saw it.

“Welcome to the team. Good night.”

I shut the door before she can say another word.  

And then I sink to the floor behind it.

I can still feel her standing there. The silence on the other side is louder than any scream.

My hand presses against the wood, like it wants to reach for her. Like it doesn’t understand why I’m pushing her away.

I squeeze my eyes shut.

She probably hates me now.

But maybe that’s better than letting her love me and breaking her even worse.

---

The next morning

I was waiting for Vision as I always do.

Steve comes through the doors first, and Vision is right behind him, pristine as always despite having been away for days. Bucky trails just a step behind, nodding politely to the agents who greet them. 

I’m already in the hallway when they arrive. 

Vision’s smile widens the second he sees me, and I try to smile as I always do, but today feels different.

“Wanda,” he says warmly, moving closer.

The smile still doesn’t reach my eyes, but no one seems to notice.

He kisses me—just a soft, familiar press to my lips. I let him. I smile afterward because that’s what’s expected. Because I need things to look normal.

Even if nothing feels that way anymore.

Especially after last night.

Especially after her.

And again, I feel her before I see her.

Her name immediately burning like an ember under my skin. I don't need to look to know she’s entered the room. My heart gives me away long before my eyes do.

But when I do look, I see the exact moment her world breaks.

She saw when he kissed me.

I see her flinch like she’s been hit.

She looks pale, unsteady. Her mouth opens like she might say something—but no words come out. Natasha’s talking to her, but I know Y/N can’t hear her. She’s staring at me like she doesn’t recognize me anymore.

And it hurts.

God, it hurts.

I pretend I didn’t see it. Pretend I didn’t notice her heart shatter on the floor in front of all of us. I force myself to look away before I crumble.

I tell myself this is for the best.

But I feel sick.

Then I hear Steve’s voice introducing us.

“…and that’s Vision—Wanda’s fiancé.”

I stiffen.

And when I finally look back at her—she’s already looking away.

She’s the one who looks away.

My chest tightens.

It’s what I wanted, right?

To push her away until she didn’t want to stay?

Then why does it feel like I’m the one being left behind?

---

Training

They’re testing her today. Seeing what she can do.

Y/N.

I shouldn’t be watching, but my eyes keep drifting back—like I’ve lost control of myself and my body’s still searching for what I told it to forget.

Super strength. Super speed. She moves like a storm in human form—fast and sharp, yet careful. Controlled.

She ends up paired with Steve toward the end. He doesn’t hold back—not completely—and I see her stumble once after a particularly strong hit. She shakes it off like it’s nothing, flashes a grin, but I can tell it rattled her.

I look away before she can catch me watching.

But the bond hums beneath my skin anyway. Quiet. Present. Like it’s waiting for me to stop pretending.

I don’t.

That Night, the team gathers later in the lounge. Movie playing. Pizza boxes open on the table. Clint’s already teasing Y/N about something when I walk in, and she’s laughing softly, hand pressed to her ribs.

“Steve’s punches are no joke,” she says with a smile.

He apologizes and she waves him off. “Just a bruise,” she assures.

I don’t know why my stomach twists at that. Why I can’t stop looking at the way she holds her side like it hurts more than she’s letting on. 

I force myself to sit beside Vision. He rests his arm over the back of the couch. I lean into it out of habit.

Y/N’s on the floor with the others, but not once does she look back at me.

And that bothers me more than it should.

---

The dreamless sleep doesn’t help. I wake up tired. Float through my morning routine in a haze that no amount of cold water or coffee can fix.

When I finally make it to the common room, Vision’s already there. He hands me a fresh cup of tea and makes a comment about the weather. I laugh—at the words, not the feeling.

Then the door opens.

And I feel it.

Her.

The shift in the air. The magnetic pull I’ve tried to drown every second since she arrived.

I don’t look up. I can’t.

But I feel her.

I can feel her pause at the threshold like something slammed into her the second she walked in. I hear her shuffle toward the coffee machine, her movements slower than usual, like she’s dragging herself through something invisible.

She sits far—too far.

And that hurts in a way I hadn’t expected. Like I’ve been tethered to something all this time, and the cord just… snapped.

But what was I expecting?

I shut the door on her. Lied to her face. Let her watch me play house with the man I promised to marry.

I keep my eyes on my mug, nodding when Vision says something about the lab.

I don’t dare look across the room.

Because if I do… I’ll want to go to her. And I don’t get to want that.

---

For the next months, I see her try.

She doesn’t have to say it—I feel it in the way she slows her steps near me. The way her eyes linger a little too long when we pass in the hallway. The way her voice, when she speaks, is soft. Hopeful.

She’s trying.  

To talk to me.  

To be near me.

And I hate myself for how I keep shutting her out.

---

“I liked your throw during training today,” she says as we pass one another.

I don’t stop. I don’t look at her. I keep my voice flat. “Thanks.”

Because if I let it be anything more, I won’t be able to stop myself from turning around.

I feel her behind me—just for a second longer than necessary—then she’s gone. And I tell myself it’s better this way.

---

Hallway, midday.

She catches me as I leave, towel still clutched in one hand, sweat cooling on my skin.

“Hey,” she says. Her smile is tentative. “I was wondering if maybe you wanted to spar sometime. You’re quick on your feet.”

God, she’s trying so hard.

And I… I can’t.

“I already train with Natasha,” I say without looking at her.

I keep walking. My chest aches in a way that has nothing to do with exhaustion.

Why do I feel worse every time I push her away?

---

In the kitchen, late at night.

It’s just us. Everyone else is asleep. I hear her before I see her—the clink of ceramic as she sets her mug down. She’s sipping tea, like she belongs here.

And maybe she does.

But I don’t.

“You have trouble sleeping too?” she asks, voice gentle, hesitant.

I freeze in front of the fridge, fingers tightening around the container I just pulled.

I don’t want to lie. But I also don’t want to give her false hope.

So I offer the smallest piece of truth I can give.

“Not really,” I say, still facing the fridge.

I leave before she can say anything else.

I feel her eyes on me the entire way out.

---

Outside on the balcony.

The sun’s setting and everything’s too quiet. Vision is downstairs, reading. The others are spread out. I came here for air. For space. To breathe without pressure coiling in my chest.

Then I hear her steps.

“Pretty out here,” she says behind me.

I don’t turn.

“I wanted space,” I say, not unkindly.

There’s a pause. I know she’s waiting to be invited. I know she’ll go if I ask her to.

“I can go—”

“Then go.”

It comes out too fast. Too sharp. I didn’t mean it like that. But I also… did.

Because if she stays, I’ll break. If she stays, I’ll reach for her. And I made my choice.

I don’t turn around, but I hear her leave.

And for a long moment, I let myself hurt.

Quietly.

Alone.

Because I deserve it.

---

Right before a mission debrief.

The conference room is loud with casual chatter—coffee mugs clinking, chairs scraping, familiar voices weaving in and out of focus. I stay off to the side, arms folded tightly, pretending to be invested in the mission file in my hands.

But I’m not. I’m just trying to hold myself together.

Y/N is walking toward me.

I don’t need to look. I feel her.

Her presence hits before her words—warm, careful, heavy with hope.

“Be safe out there today,” she says gently, a soft smile in her voice. “If you need backup—”

“I’ll be fine.”

I cut her off. I meet her gaze, just for a second. Just long enough to see the hurt flicker behind her eyes.

Then I turn my back to her.

Because if I don't, I might change my mind.

Because her voice softens something in me I’ve been trying to keep hard.

Because every time she tries, it gets harder to lie to both of us.

---

Three Months Later

It should’ve gotten easier by now. But it hasn’t.

I’ve watched her crumble a little more every day.

She thinks I don’t see it. But I do.

The way her laugh is thinner now. The way she eats less. Sleeps less. The way her hand keeps drifting to her chest like something inside is tearing.

But she hasn’t said a word. Not to me.

Vision is kind. Constant. He believes in our engagement, in the path we were given. He looks at me like I’m something worth loving. And part of me wants to hold onto that. The certainty. The safety.

But when I see Y/N... I feel everything I try to ignore.

My chest tightens, but not with pain—with guilt. With longing. With a thousand "what ifs" clawing inside my ribs.

I hear her laugh with Natasha, and my stomach twists.

I see her eyes dim when I enter a room, and I want to scream.

But I can’t stop pretending now. I’ve dug the hole too deep. I made my choice. I pushed her away.

---

I walk into the kitchen the next morning and instantly regret it.

Y/N is there. She’s sitting beside Sam, picking at a bowl of cereal like it might bite her.

She looks pale. Exhausted.

Sam nudges her with concern, and she forces a smile. But even from across the room, I see the way her shoulders slump, like the weight of simply being awake is too much.

My hand brushes Vision’s briefly as I pass him. It's meant to be comforting. Familiar. But it doesn’t feel like anything. Not anymore.

And then I see her wince.

She doubles over slightly, and I freeze. What happened? And just for a moment. I wanted to rush to her side.

But I look away before she catches me staring.

Because I don’t want her to see the guilt in my eyes.

---

Later that night, I stare at myself in the mirror.

I trace my fingers over the name glowing faintly on my wrist—Y/N.

I hate how much comfort it gives me.

Because I don’t deserve it.

Because she’s the one suffering.

Because every time she looks at me, like maybe there’s still a chance, I take that hope and crush it.

And I don’t know how much longer either of us can take it.

---

She’s sitting with Natasha after sparring. I watch her from the corner of the mat, hidden in plain sight. She holds her side like it aches, but she doesn’t complain.

Natasha’s talking to her, concerned. I can’t hear what they’re saying, but I see the stiffness in Y/N’s shoulders, the way her hands clench.

She’s in pain.

I’m worried. I didn’t know what was happening to her. Is it me who is causing it?

That made me scared.

Terrified I’m the one breaking her.

---

Three days. That's how long this mission was supposed to last. Just a few days, in and out. Simple. But nothing feels simple anymore.

I can’t even look at her without the ache in my chest getting worse. The mission is important. I know it is. But the whole time we’ve been here, I can’t stop thinking about her. 

Y/N is right beside me. We’re on a mission together, working under disguise, but the silence between us feels like a weight I can’t lift. I only talk to her when I need.

I try to focus on the task at hand, but every time I hear her voice, every time she moves in my direction, it feels like something is pulling at me—dragging me under.

We’re in a motel room for the night. A small, dimly lit room that’s supposed to give us some rest. But there’s no peace in it. No relief.

My body is screaming at me to go to her. To let her hug me. To let her touch me.

But I can’t. I can’t let myself feel this. I can’t let myself fall.

---

I don’t know when it happens. One second, I’m drifting in that space between sleep and wakefulness, and the next, I see Pietro dying all over again.

Then, I scream. 

It’s sharp, just like I did when he died. I don’t even recognize my own voice. I’m gasping for air, my hands scrambling for something—anything to hold onto. But there’s nothing.

I can’t breathe. I can’t think. It’s like I’m trapped in that damn day, and the walls are closing in, squeezing the life out of me.

And then, I feel her.

Her arms. Her warmth. Y/N’s voice calling out to me, grounding me in the chaos.

“Wanda?” Her voice is hoarse, full of panic, but calming at the same time. “It’s okay. It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

Her hands are on me, pulling me against her. My body is stiff, shaking with fear, but when I feel her arms wrap around me, I don’t want to pull away. I can’t. 

Her body against mine feels like the only thing keeping me tethered to reality.

She holds me tight, whispering softly, “You’re safe. You’re okay. You’re here with me.”

The sound of her words soothes something inside me. Her chest rises and falls with every breath, and for the first time in a long time, I feel like I can breathe again. I don’t know why. I don’t know what’s happening. 

But in her arms, the fear fades. The tightness in my chest disappears.

Her hands move gently, stroking my back, calming me. I don’t want her to stop. I don’t want to let go. 

I don’t know what this is. I don’t understand it. But for the first time in days, the ache inside me finally lessens. The suffocating pressure lifts, and I feel something that I can’t name. I feel okay.

Her touch is everything I’ve needed. And for once, I can relax. For once, I don’t feel like I’m falling apart.

---

Part 4

---

Next part fluff or angst again? 😆

[amoressb]

───── TOO LATE 西村 力 N. RK

ꪆৎ ⋆˚࿔ you thought you and him were meant to be, but he chose someone else…until he realized his mistake too late ｡｡ bsf!riki x reader .

ANGST & wc. 1500 + / just pretty sad for y/n :( ｡｡

──── ARCHiVE

read part 2 here !!

you’ve always believed in signs. the way the universe nudges people together, how timing seems to work out perfectly for those who are meant to be. for years, you thought the signs were leading you to him.

nishimura riki, your best friend, your safe place, the boy who made the world feel lighter just by being in it. you swore he felt it too.

the way his eyes always searched for yours first in a crowded room. the way he pulled you close when it was cold, wrapping his jacket around your shoulders even if it left him shivering. the way his fingers brushed against yours a little too often, lingering, as if waiting for you to just take his hand already.

you convinced yourself that he was waiting…just like you were. so when he asked to talk one afternoon, looking nervous, you thought this is it.

this is the moment you’ve been waiting for.

you sit under your usual cherry blossom tree, a place that’s always felt like yours. rikis leg bounces slightly, his fingers tapping against his knee. he’s nervous. just like you.

“i’ve been thinking a lot about something,” he says, exhaling. “and i really need your help.”

your heart pounds. this is it. he’s finally going to say it. you smile, trying to contain your excitement. “of course, ki. you can tell me anything.”

he looks at you then, his eyes shining with something intense—something you think is for you.

“i really like someone.”

the world pauses. your breath catches, your fingers tightening around the fabric of your skirt. “oh.” he smiles, a little anxious, a little shy. “yeah…and i think i want to ask her out.”

every part of you is screaming say my name. just say my name.

riki takes a deep breath.

“it’s sohee.”

something in you breaks. you blink, convinced you misheard…but he keeps talking.

“i don’t know, she’s just different,” he says, running a hand through his hair. “and i don’t want to mess this up, so i was thinking…since you guys are close, maybe you could help me?”

help him?

help him get with your best friend?

the words echo in your head, over and over, like a cruel joke you don’t understand. you had been so sure.

every glance, every touch, every unspoken moment…was it all in your head? had you built something out of nothing?

riki is still looking at you, waiting, completely unaware that he’s just shattered you into pieces. so you do what you always do.

you pretend.

you swallow down the lump in your throat and force a smile. “of course,” you say, voice barely above a whisper. “i’ll help you.”

at first, you tell yourself it’s fine. that you can handle it. that as long as riki is happy, you’ll be okay. but watching him fall for sohee is nothing short of torture.

you sit through conversations where he gushes about her laugh, the way she tucks her hair behind her ear, the way she makes his heart race. and sohee—completely oblivious to your pain—is falling too.

“i think i really like him,” she admits one afternoon, her voice full of excitement. “he’s just…he’s different, you know?”

different.

of course, he’s different to her. you want to scream. to tell her that it isn’t fair. that you loved him first, but instead, you smile. “i’m happy for you.” even though it’s a lie.

the distance between you and riki starts small. you take longer to respond to his texts. you stop waiting for him after class. you let conversations die down first, leaving messages unanswered for hours instead of seconds.

and riki?

he barely notices.

he’s too busy with her.

it’s not long before he stops texting first. stops noticing when you’re not around. one afternoon, you pass him in the hallway, your stomach twisting as you wait for him to acknowledge you, but he doesn’t.

because sohee is walking next to him.

because he no longer looks for you first.

the inside jokes stop making sense. the conversations become short. you don’t sit with him at lunch anymore, choosing the farthest table in the cafeteria while he and sohee sit close together, laughing over something you’ll never understand.

and the worst part?

he never asks why.

never pulls you aside. never tells you he misses you. he just…let’s you go.

one night, your phone buzzes. your heart stupidly leaps at the sight of his name.

riki : hey, you up?

for a moment, you consider ignoring it.

but old habits die hard.

you : “yeah. what’s up?”

riki : “idk. just feels like we haven’t talked in a while.”

you grip your phone, your chest tightening. now he notices?now that sohee isn’t around?

your fingers hover over the keyboard, a million things you want to say filling your head.

we haven’t talked because you replaced me.

because you never noticed me slipping away.

because you never loved me the way i loved you.

but instead, you type the safest answer possible.

you : “yeah, i guess so.”

you can almost see him nodding at your response, thinking that’s enough and for the first time in your life, you realize you’re done waiting for him to see you.

days pass. then weeks. you barely speak to sohee. you barely speak to him. riki still sends the occasional message, still smiles at you in the halls, but it’s different now. nothing is the same and yet, he still never asks you what’s wrong.

one afternoon, you sit alone in the library, staring at a book you aren’t reading. footsteps approach, but you don’t bother looking up.

“hey, stranger.” your stomach twists. you glance up, meeting his gaze. riki stands there, hands in his pockets, looking at you like he’s just now realizing how far apart you’ve grown.

“you’ve been distant lately,” he says, brows furrowing. “everything okay?” a bitter laugh escapes your lips.

now he notices.

you search his face, waiting for something. a flicker of recognition. a sign that he knows what he’s done, but all you see is confusion. like he truly has no idea. like he hasn’t spent the last few months breaking you without even realizing it.

you exhale, closing the book in your hands. “yeah, riki,” you say quietly, standing up. “everything’s fine.”

a lie.

but this time, you don’t care if he believes it. you brush past him without a word, heart pounding in your chest. but before you can take another step, fingers wrap around your wrist.

gentle...familiar…

your breath catches as you freeze in place. “wait,” riki says, voice softer than you’ve ever heard it. “what’s going on with you?”

you swallow, willing yourself to stay composed. you can’t do this. you won’t do this. so you force a laugh, shaking off his grip. “nothing’s going on, riki. you’re imagining things.” he doesn’t let go.

“that’s a lie.” your stomach twists. you’ve never heard him sound like this before—frustrated, desperate.

he tugs you slightly, forcing you to turn toward him. when your eyes finally meet, something in his expression shifts. like he finally sees you.

not just as his best friend. not as the person he left behind. but as someone who’s been hurting for a long, long time.

his grip loosens, his fingers barely holding onto yours now. “why didn’t you tell me?” his voice cracks. “why didn’t you say anything?”

you shake your head, blinking back the sting in your eyes. “and say what, riki?” the words taste bitter on your tongue. “that i was stupid enough to think you liked me? that i spent years waiting for you, only for you to ask me to help you get with my best friend?”

his eyes widen, “n/n…” you laugh, but it comes out broken. “it doesn’t matter now.”

but riki is still looking at you like he’s just now realizing everything. like he’s trying to piece it all together. and the worst part? you don’t even want him to anymore. because it’s too late. it has to be.

you pull away first.

for the first time in your life, you are the one to walk away. and this time, you don’t stop to wonder if he’ll come after you. but just as you reach the door, just as you think this is it…

“wait.”

his voice is barely above a whisper, but it stops you in your tracks. you don’t turn around. you can’t. because if you do, you might break. the silence stretches between you, heavy, suffocating.

“i think…i messed up.”

your heart stutters. slowly, you turn your head, just enough to see the look on his face. regret. realization.

like he’s just now understanding what he’s about to lose. your breath catches, fingers trembling at your sides and then—

“n/n, i—” the door swings open.

sohees voice rings out. “riki! there you are, i’ve been looking for you.” your stomach drops and riki stiffens. in that single moment, as he hesitates between you and her, you realize something. even if he’s finally starting to see you—

it might already be too late.

⋆｡°✩ @cheruphic @liwinly @chrrific @hyukabean @ijustwannareadstuff20 @jellyluv4eva

lmk if you guys would like a part 2 !!

[blitzwhore]

Stolas just standing there and letting blitz hug him in the end is all good, right? He is just sad because of octavia and accepting that blitz is there with him right?? It's not that he regrets chosing him, right??? (I just need affirmation)

You know what? I've found myself needing reassurance about this too. So let's take a moment to look at the facts together, shall we?

(This reply turned out way longer than I expected it to 😅 sorry!)

Fact #1 - Stolas is still coming to terms with the consequences of his actions. He spends the whole episode finding out just how much his life has changed. Learning how to navigate groceries, and laundry, and meals, and having a job, and worrying about money.

Mid-episode, he has a breakdown where he truly questions if everything he gave up was worth it just for a fantasy. At this point in the episode, he still hasn't realised how much he means to Blitz. As far as he's concerned, he did all of this for someone who doesn't reciprocate his feelings. By the end of the episode, though, his feelings have settled enough for him to express what he has known to be true all along: that saving Blitz was the right thing to do.

What Stolas regrets isn't saving Blitz's life, or even loving Blitz in the first place.

What he regrets are the choices he made that led them to this. He feels guilty for selfishly (or, rather, naively) playing out his fantasies. He's the one who established the deal, who let Blitz illegally use the book for many months, who wasn't always sensible about how he expressed his love for Blitz publicly and despite being married, and who allowed himself to ignore the reality of his situation so he could live in his own, personal romcom—all of which ultimately led to the events of Mastermind and the loss of Via.

And all the guilt and regret he's grappling with (however justified it might be) is exacerbated by fact #2, which is:

Fact #2 - Stolas is off his medication. He's been off it for a month now. Symptoms of depression (especially untreated depression) include mood swings, irritability, self-hatred and low self-esteem, passive/active suicidal ideation, pessimism and hopelessness about the future, catastrophising, black-and-white thinking, and anhedonia (inability to feel pleasure and to find joy in things—and people—who used to bring you it). All symptoms Stolas exhibits throughout this episode.

So, even if he shows a lack of emotion toward Blitz at times, or irritation to seemingly minor things like low doors or "secretating" or Karen's behaviour, even if he acts regretful and angry and desolate... a lot of these emotions and behaviours are a result of his depression, and not of actually hating the life he chose.

Fact #3 - Stolas loves Blitz. He always has, and always will. I could point at a thousand different moments in the show when Stolas' love for Blitz has transpired, but I'm going to leave it at his line from Mastermind: "I would rather be dead than live life without you by my side."

Even after everything they've gone through, even now that he's taken Blitz off his pedestal and can acknowledge that Blitz can be a fucking idiot... Stolas simply does not want to live a life without Blitz. It has always been Blitz. It will always be Blitz.

Stolas loves Blitz.

Fact #4 - Stolas kissed Blitz. Before he truly hits rock bottom as a result of Octavia cutting him out, Stolas is so ecstatic that Blitz cares, that Blitz was willing to go to such lengths to save his life, that he can't hold back the need to kiss Blitz mid-air. Suddenly, none of his earlier frustration matters. Nothing matters expect for how elated he is that Blitz loves him back. So he smiles and he pulls Blitz into a kiss because he can't bear not to kiss Blitz for a moment longer.

Look at this man. Look at how happy he is. Because it's always been Blitz, and maybe it was a fantasy for a long time, but it doesn't have to be anymore. Maybe this can be real now. He's so happy he (and I) could cry.

Fact #5 - Stolas didn't deny loving Blitz. When Via said "You don't love me, you love him," the script very purposefully did not have Stolas go "no, no, Via, that's not true—" or say anything else that might make Blitz doubt, even for a moment, that Stolas loves him. Because that much is true. He does love Blitz. He just also loves Via. Which brings me to:

Fact #6 - Blitz knows Stolas loves him. At no point throughout the episode does Blitz doubt, even for a second, that Stolas loves him. And we know this because Blitz's walls remain down at all times. If Blitz doubted he was loved, if he had even the slightest of reservations, those walls would come crawling back up whether he wanted them to or not. It's what he's been trained and conditioned to do—it's how he's kept his heart safe ever since the accident.

But now, he knows his heart is safe with Stolas. He believes it enough to not depend on his walls to feel at ease. He believes it enough to let himself take care of Stolas and be soft with Stolas without the slightest trace of hesitation.

Look at Blitz's face. This is the face of a man who knows that even if Stolas isn't okay right now, things will get better. And when they do, they'll both still be in love with each other. This is the face of a man who can't wait for something beautiful to flourish between them, but who is in no rush to get there. He knows the road ahead is hard and painful, but he has faith in Stolas. In both of them.

Fact #6 - Stolas was happy to share a private, romantic dance with Blitz. Despite everything going through his mind, he found comfort and happiness in dancing with Blitz; in getting to have this little moment with him.

He found relief in the fact that Blitz stayed with him this time, even after Stolas told him, once again, that he didn't have to stay.

His reaction to Blitz initiating a dance between them is genuine surprise, immediately followed by an enamoured little smile at the mere notion that he gets to have this, now.

And, as they dance, he keeps smiling and leaning into Blitz, going as far as to manage a deep, heartfelt laugh at Blitz's words. This, for an unmedicated, depressed person going through one of the worst days of his life, is huge in itself. It shows that, even in the worst of times, he finds undeniable comfort and happiness in Blitz.

And, after their dance, Stolas looks at Blitz with a sobriety and soft sort of realisation that shows he's finally coming to terms with the fact that this is real. After everything he's lost, after all the fantasies he hoped for for so long and believed he'd never have, he finally gets to have this.

Despite the pain he's going through, Stolas looks at Blitz and sees the man he loves.

Notice how Blitz's eyes trail down to Stolas' mouth. And Stolas realises. And doesn't move away. Waiting, expectantly, for Blitz's next move, fully expecting it to be a kiss.

But then Blitz hugs him instead, and Stolas doesn't hug back.

And it's not because he doesn't want to be hugged by Blitz. It's not because his feelings for Blitz have changed, or dimmed, or disappeared. It's not because he regrets loving Blitz, or saving him. It's not because he doesn't want to have a close, healthy, loving romantic relationship with Blitz.

It's because of facts #1 (he's grappling with so much guilt and coming to terms with the consequences of his actions) and #2 (he's experiencing symptoms of unmedicated depression). And, above all, it's because of fact #7, which is...

Fact #7 - Stolas doesn't know how to be loved. Stolas has never had support. He has never had a shoulder to cry on, or someone to hold him when he needed it. When he's feeling vulnerable and broken, he defaults to hugging himself as a way to self-soothe, because that's the only comfort he's ever known.

And because he's never known comfort from others—because it was never allowed or safe for him to need or ask for comfort from others—all Stolas knows to do with his vulnerability is hide it. So much so that, the two times we see him begin to break down in front of Blitz before this episode, he either portals Blitz away or masks his tears and pain immediately. Even as he drunkenly rambles about wanting to be held, he still makes sure not to appear like he actually needs a hug.

So when he finds himself being held by Blitz in a warm, comforting hug, Stolas doesn't know how to respond. Because he's never had this. He's never had an opportunity to learn how to exist in someone's comforting embrace, how to interact with this kind of physical contact. He still has to learn how to feel safe between arms that aren't his own.

Simply put, Stolas still doesn't know how to hold Blitz back.

That doesn't mean Stolas doesn't want or need physical comfort. He needs it desperately—everyone does. But wanting something and knowing how to actually have it are two very different things, and Blitz knows that better than anyone, because he's wanted Stolas for a very long time, but didn't, until very recently, know how to feel safe accepting Stolas' love.

And that's why Blitz is completely understanding of the fact that all Stolas can do, all Stolas has the ability to do, is stand there and let himself be held, and let his emotions go through him. In, and out, with every breath, with every second. And get slowly acquainted with what being comforted by the person he loves feels like.

Thirty-something years of trauma can't be undone in a single hug, or a single conversation, and it's going to take time for Stolas to learn how to be present while in Blitz's arms, and how to return that emotional closeness.

But Blitz has faith in him. Blitz is willing to be patient and soft with him while he gets better. Blitz is ready to meet Stolas where he's at, because he knows, beyond a trace of doubt, that they love one another, and they're going to be okay. Even if Stolas doesn't know it yet—even if we, the audience don't know it yet—Blitz knows.

And that's just going to have to be enough for now.

And because this post got completely away from me, I shall conclude by quoting their song, because it summarises their story better than I ever could:

Truer love is hard to find. ❤️