#they have shared trauma they’re allowed to say things like that around each other

[wrightandco]

someone mistakes miles and franziska for a couple and franziska without missing a beat says “oh no you’ve got the wrong idea. you see, my father killed his father.”

[fyonahmacnally]

Little Girl Inside

It’s been months since Lex and Nxyly were defeated, since Lillian died. Months since the loss of the only family Lena’s known for a majority of her life. At first, she felt completely lost. Where she thought she would feel a sense of freedom, a sense of relief, she instead feels utterly lost. In fact, Lena feels more lost than she did on her first day at Luthor Manor as a tiny four year old.

She’s not lonely anymore. Not in any sense of the word, not really. She spends her days splitting time between the newly formed Lena Luthor Foundation and The Tower. As a fully integrated member of the team, she works alongside the rest of her friends to keep the city safe. Most of her evenings are spent at the apartment she now shares with Kara. 

It happens organically. Neither woman wants to live alone, they talked extensively about it. The problem is, neither really trust anyone to share their space. Well, outside of each other, anyway. That’s how they end up living in Kara’s loft. The idea of finding a bigger two bedroom space gets kicked around for a while. When neither of them bring it up again, the subject gets dropped and they fall into a routine. 

The fact there is only one bed and they’re sharing it isn’t strange. Best friends do that, right? It’s not an issue. The fact Lena hasn’t mentioned it to her therapist doesn’t mean anything. She just hasn’t gotten to it. Yet. 

It’s fine.

That’s the other new thing. Lena Luthor is seeing a therapist. 

When Kelly recommends she go to therapy, she scoffs. She’s a Luthor, after all. Luthors don’t go to therapy. However, after a little time passes, she begins to question her reactions to things. Is she scoffing at therapy because that’s actually how she feels about it or because that’s how the Luthors taught her to feel? This line of thinking bleeds over into every aspect of her life making her question her beliefs and reactions to everything. Needless to say, it’s very eye opening. 

This revelation sends her on a journey of discovery and self-care. She starts eating regularly, figuring out what she likes and doesn’t like in all aspects of her life. It’s like rediscovering the world around her. Unfortunately, along with the good comes the bad. Finally seeing how truly horrible she was treated by her supposed family and the damage it caused is a whiplash of trauma. Talking about things helps her in ways she never imagined. It’s the deep seated wounds to her psyche, all of the things she lost or missed out on that are harder to reconcile. 

The past few weeks have been full of introspection and realization. She’s starting to understand more and more, the little girl inside her hasn’t healed. That little girl wasn’t allowed to exist so she never got to grow and learn. At first it was a hard pill to swallow for the last Luthor, now she is trying to figure out what to do about it. Can she do anything? Is it too late?

These questions consume her thoughts most evenings and she knows Kara has noticed. It’s a random Tuesday when the hero finally asks.

Kara can tell there is something weighing on Lena’s mind. They’ve just finished a late dinner, both having worked later than usual. Plates, flatware, and glasses still strewn on the coffee table and one of their guilty pleasure shows streaming in the background. The blonde doesn’t want to pry, but she knows Lena has a propensity to compartmentalize and stifle her emotions so she tries to gently push her friend to open up.

Kara sighs internally. Calling the woman next to her friend, even in her head, doesn’t feel right. Lena is her friend, the best even, but it’s always been more. It has been for a long time. She knows it and she’s pretty sure her sister knows, too. Now though, it’s getting harder and harder to keep it at bay. They’re living together. Sleeping in the same bed. Not just that, they are always wrapped around each other in bed. She’s never had a friend like that. Not in all of her Earth years. So yeah, it’s getting harder to keep her feelings tamped down. 

But, that’s for another day, right now she needs to focus on her best friend. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” Kara slides closer to the woman and softly pats the jogger clad thigh now pressed against her own. “You barely ate your dinner and it was your favorite. Plus, you’ve been essentially staring through the TV all evening. Are you okay?”

The gentle voice jars Lena from her thoughts, her viridian eyes settle on her best friend’s concerned sapphire ones. She shifts her eyes away and runs her fingers through her ebony locks before releasing a defeated sigh. “I just…I don’t know how to explain it. When I started therapy, it was on the premise of processing my grief. It has turned into so much more.” Another sigh escapes her lips as she turns toward the blonde. “Going to therapy, actually talking about the things I experienced in that house growing up, it’s making me realize how traumatic my childhood really was.”

A humorless laugh floats into the space between them, Lena shakes her head and drops her chin in disbelief at admitting that out loud. “The Luthors didn’t show or allow emotion. I entered the manor as a scared, grieving four year old.” She can feel her lip quiver and tears sting her already tired eyes. This time, instead of holding them back, she lets them fall freely. “In a lot of ways, Kara, I am still that scared, grieving little girl and I’m not sure what to do about it. Or if I can do anything about it.”

Kara’s heart breaks. She’s always known Lena didn’t live a happy childhood, that her best friend was starved for the love and support Kara herself had in droves. Lena was never allowed to feel or express normal human emotions. The stoic woman was never given the space to explore childhood and experience the joys of true freedom before adulthood settled in. She was always suppressed under the thumb of the Luthor moniker, forced to endure the strict regime of elite classes and standards that would make grown men falter. It’s something Kara wishes she could fix. 

Warm, strong arms wrap around her shoulders. Lena leans into her best friend’s chest and breathes in the familiar scent that has come to mean safety and shelter. Her Kara. Always Kara. The blonde smiles and pulls the smaller woman closer, placing a soft kiss to her forehead and pressing her cheek against silky, raven locks.

“I’m so proud of you, Lena.” She runs her left hand up and down the exposed skin of Lena’s arm, the sleeve of her faded Star Wars t-shirt leaving most of the pale skin on display. A soft hum escapes the woman’s pouty lips, eliciting a smile from Kara. “You have avoided a lot of self-care because Lionel and Lillian made you believe it was a weakness. You steered clear of therapy because Lex made you believe it was for people who were of lesser intelligence. Deep down, you’ve always known it wasn’t true, but you knew if any of them found out, they would use it against you in every way possible.”

“You’re so strong, Lena. Even in the face of such adversity, you are a kind-hearted, beautiful soul.” Another soft squeeze of reassurance. “You’ve always been the best Luthor. You always will be.” 

They sit in the comfortable, but heavy silence for a few moments. Neither of them make a move to pull away from the other. Kara breaks the silence, finding this is a perfect time to ask some questions she’s been curious about for years and move the conversation in a new direction. She also has an ulterior motive. The blonde wants her best friend to experience all the things she was starved of as a kid. She just needs to know some of those things Lena missed out on and this might be the chance she’s been looking for.

“Over the years, you’ve mentioned never watching movies or playing board games like most of us did. Are there other things you were deprived of as a child?” Kara lightly squeezes her closer before continuing to caress the pale skin of the arm now wrapped around her waist. “Toys you wish you had or places you wish you could have gone? What are some things Lena Luthor wanted as a child and teen?”

A soft chuckle passes across Lena’s lips, the warm breath ghosting against Kara’s neck and causing a shiver the blonde hopes goes unnoticed. The CEO hums. “You’ve helped with the movies and board games. I am sure there are more of both I still need to experience, but you’ve checked off most of them.” Her mind drifts back to the first months at Luthor Manor, recalling how many times she asked to play outside or go to the playground only to be scoffed at or reprimanded. Thoughts of the stuffed bear her mother gave her the Christmas before she died and how Lillian took it from her two days after she arrived. 

Kara patiently waits for an answer, fully aware of how often Lena can get lost trying to navigate the treacherous memories of her childhood. She knows how full of landmines those moments can be for her best friend. So, she pulls the woman closer to place a soft kiss on the crown of her head. Her patience pays off when Lena continues.

“I never got to play on the playground, being outside was frowned upon. Dirt was for heathens and unbecoming of a Luthor.” She rolls her eyes. “I think I stopped asking to go outside to play when I was six. It could have been sooner. I had to grow up so quickly. Shedding tears would elicit the wrath of Lillian. Lionel was never really around so I learned early on I needed to hide things from Lillian.” Lena clears her throat, not wanting to dwell too long on that train of thought. 

“There was this teddy bear I had, it was the only thing I brought with me to Luthor Manor. Her name was Miss Pizzley. I got her for Christmas from my mother.” She smiles thinking about Miss Pizzley and how much she loved that bear. “It was the last thing I got from my mother and Lillian took it from me. I wish I still had her.” She lets out a long sigh, nuzzling further into Kara’s neck. 

“Outside of the teddy bear, there weren’t many things I asked for. I knew better.” She chuckles, leaning back to look up at her best friend.

“I asked for three things from the time I arrived at Luthor Manor until they sent me off to boarding school.” She shook her head, briefly closing her eyes in recollection of the memory before gazing back at her hero. “For Christmas when I was five, I asked for a Princess Leia figurine and a Furby. The only two things I asked for and I got neither. Instead, I got piano lessons and a chess set.” She rolls her eyes as she remembers that Christmas.

Kara watches her carefully, tilting her head in awe of this amazing woman. Still so incredibly kind and caring, even after the abuse and neglect she suffered. “Wow. I can’t imagine. My holidays with the Danvers were so different. Oh, you said three things. What was the third thing?” She pulls the CEO back into her arms and they settle against the backrest of the couch. 

Lena hums against the soft tan skin of Kara’s neck, a warmth and security that has quickly become her favorite place. Cuddled on the couch with the woman she’s been unequivocally and irrefutably in love with for years. At this moment, there is nowhere else she’d rather be. 

“The third thing came much later. It was the last Christmas I spent at Luthor Manor before they shipped me off to boarding school. I asked for an iPod. I wanted a way to listen to music in the dorm without disturbing others. Instead, I was allowed to enroll in fencing classes at my new school.” She rolls her eyes, thinking of the smug look on Lillian’s face that Christmas when Lena unwrapped the “gift” she was handed. The look is forever etched into her mind. The box contained her updated schedule for Mount St. Helena. Instead of the robotics class she had chosen and enrolled in, fencing sat in its place. 

“Meanwhile, Lex was being showered with gifts. The first edition of the Motorola Razr cell phone, a brand new Rolex, and a top of the line Porsche 911.” Lena scoffs. The disparity between the two of them had never been as evident as it was that Christmas. “As much as I hated the idea of going to boarding school, at least I knew I wouldn’t have to deal with seeing Lillian and worrying about Lionel’s drunken tirades. At that point, I still adored and idolized Lex. Plus, he was still a decent big brother. In fact, he gifted me the iPod I asked for when he dropped me off at the boarding school. Our parents couldn’t be bothered with taking me so he did.”  

Silence engulfs them. Kara is mulling over the information she learned and Lena is immersed in a swirl of painful recollections. Strong arms are still wrapped around the youngest Luthor. Neither of them speak for several minutes, both lost in the haunting memories of a little girl lost. 

They don’t talk much after that. Kara’s mind is devising a plan to give Lena the things she missed out on as a kid. It’s something she’s given a lot of thought to since the woman first opened up to her. Lena is still swimming in the memories of the Luthors ghosts and a past she’s still trying to reconcile. It isn’t until a few months later that the subject comes up again.

Read the rest here!

[impossiblycolorfulpanda]

The way Bryke treats Zutara shippers in general is just slightly disgusting. Making fun of them whenever the opportunity arises and using the ship as the butt of jokes too many times like… that’s a solid 70% of your fanbse you’re making fun of. They’re the reason you’re even on the map. Shut up Bryke. I don’t know about 70% of the fanbase, but even if it were only a small portion it’s still just…rude and unprofessional to mock your fans? I think about this a lot because I was 16 when the show ended and I know a lot of other Zutara shippers were also teenage girls, and Mike and Bryan were adults. Two grown men making fun of teenage girls who liked the show and the characters they had created. I don’t care how “obnoxious” some of the fans might have been to them - and I’m sure there were fans who were also out of line - but Mike and Bryan were the adults and they chose to act like children, and mean, spiteful children at that.

Ya telling me, and you know what else? They are a big reason why Zutara is so popular in the first place. Bryke are the primary showrunners, what they say goes, they are in charge of approving/allowing what scene goes in the series.

They didn't have to make Zuko say "I'll save you from the pirates" right before trying to uncharacteristically bargain with Katara with an uncharacteristically clam demeaner while unintentionally proposing to her, since the necklace reveals to be a betrothal necklace.

They didn't have to let Zuko and Katara be locked in a cave together with crystals that almost look similar to the crystals from the cave of two lovers. They could've been locked in two jail cells far away from each other.

Speaking of which, Oma and Shu didn't have to be colored red and and blue respectively in one of the flashback scenes (the red one even looked like Ozai) and have their respective nations be at war against each other. You could tell they really, really wanted that story to parallel to Kataang but did a piss poor job of it. For one, Aang and Katara's nations never fought each other, not like how the Fire Nation and Water Tribes were going at it.

Zuko didn't have to be vulnerable with Katara in that cave and briefly explain his banishment and still act calm around her. She didn't have to offer to heal her scar with the only spirit water she had. Jet's ghost be like. "Are you kidding me?! Thanks a lot!" Katara didn't have to be the very first person to touch his scar before bringing the water out and Zuko didn't have to let her touch it and neither of them had to stand their for 5 seconds as the music amps up.

Katara understandably threatened to waste Zuko if he looks even slightly suspicious, and yet she pays no mind with Zuko bringing both Aang and Sokka to life threatening side-quests beyond Katara's supervision, both of which end with Aang getting over his pyrophobia and Katara and Sokka being reunited with their father and Sokka reunited with his girlfriend. Bryke let all of this happen.

Zuko didn't have to be the one to give Katara the means to find emotional closure and finally overcome her trauma. Katara didn't have to open up to him about the much more grisly details about her mother's death and have Zuko compliment her mother's bravery, all before Katara finally decides to forgive Zuko.

They didn't have to have June tease about Katara and Zuko dating multiple times. They didn't have to allow Zuko and Katara share the "parental figure for the gaang" mantle. They didn't have to spend the last scene Aang and Katara have before making out with them having another heated argument while Zuko and Katara spent their time working together to usurp Zuko's way to the throne.

They also didn't have show parallels/symbolism, after parallels/symbolism, after parallels/symbolism.

It's Bryke's fault that Zutara caught so many people's attention and they have the nerve to mock and ridicule them for disagreeing with their personal self-insert fantasy that does not matter to the narrative. The whole thing with basing Kataang off of a little boy having it down bad for an older big-sister-like figure who doesn't feel the same way doesn't help Bryke's case at all either.

[fxoye2]

how do you think Jim and Spock comfort each other when they have bad away missions or nightmares or something?

OH BOY, how much time do you have? Because I could (and WILL) ramble about this for HOURS. Let me just stretch my hands here, shake off the existential dread for a second (haha), and GET INTO IT. Buckle up.

So, let’s start with the obvious: Kirk and Spock are two emotionally constipated, galaxy-saving, disaster men who (underneath all their badassery) just want to be LOVED and UNDERSTOOD. Jim is all bravado and charm on the surface, but like… the dude has so much emotional baggage, he could be the human embodiment of a black hole. Spock, meanwhile, is Vulcan, but not fully, and he’s spent his entire life grappling with the clash of human emotion vs Vulcan logic. Basically, these two NEED each other to survive bad missions, nightmares, and… well, life in general.

Picture this: after a particularly hellish away mission, maybe one where things got way too close for comfort (because what is Starfleet without a good brush with death every week?), they’ll stumble back into their quarters, all disheveled, bloodied, and too damn tired to pretend that everything’s fine. Maybe Kirk tries to crack a joke—his usual defense mechanism—but Spock, having none of it, just looks at him with those intense Vulcan eyes and silently slips into the room, waiting for Jim to follow.

Now, I like to imagine Jim is the kind of guy who’ll throw himself on the bed and, in a rare moment of vulnerability, he’ll just… stare at the ceiling. Probably doesn’t say much. Maybe something understated like, “We almost didn’t make it.” Spock, being Spock, doesn’t offer meaningless words like “We’ll always survive” because he knows that sometimes, the odds aren’t in their favor. Instead, he’s all about grounding actions. He sits by Jim’s side, their hands might touch accidentally (or so Jim thinks), and that’s when Spock starts to… feel.

ENTER: The Vulcan Mind Meld! This is where it gets INTENSE, my friend. Spock’s ability to share his thoughts and emotions with Kirk through a mind meld is EVERYTHING. He might initiate a very gentle one, barely touching Kirk’s mind, just to offer that silent comfort. Not forceful (because Spock respects boundaries, especially Jim’s), but enough to let Kirk feel his presence, his calm. It’s like saying “I’m here” without words. Mind Melds are their ultimate communication tool. When words fail, Spock can literally show Jim how much he cares by giving him a window into his mind. SO INTENSE.

Nightmares? Oh, NIGHTMARES. Jim has them constantly (thanks, unresolved trauma). Spock’s Vulcan discipline allows him to sense those disturbances even from across the ship, and you can bet he shows up at Kirk’s quarters at the exact right time. Sometimes Kirk tries to play it off, but Spock’s not fooled. He’ll sit next to Jim and just stay there, a solid presence, ready to slip into a Mind Link if needed—a low-level connection that just helps soothe Kirk, easing him back into sleep. Or sometimes Spock will just watch over him until morning (let me CRY real quick), offering the silent assurance that Jim isn’t alone.

But—and this is my favorite headcanon—sometimes Spock has nightmares. Yes, the stoic Vulcan. Maybe they’re about losing control, letting his human side take over (Pon Farr PTSD, anyone? I mean, seriously, the guy’s been through a LOT). When Spock’s walls start to crack, Kirk is the one who stays. He’s probably not as good with quiet comfort as Spock is, but he’ll throw his arms around Spock, holding him through the storm, whispering dumb things like “It’s okay, Spock. I’m here. Not going anywhere.” And that’s when you realize… Jim Kirk is Spock’s safe space too.

I also like to think they’ve developed a sort of psychic shorthand over time. Like, they don’t even need to fully meld anymore—sometimes all it takes is a hand on Spock’s shoulder, or Kirk’s fingers brushing Spock’s. A brief, fleeting touch that says, “I get it. You don’t have to go through this alone.”

AND THEN, OF COURSE, we have the T’hy’la Bond (insert cosmic sigh). This is their deepest connection—where their souls, emotions, and memories intertwine. If they’ve reached this point (and let’s be honest, THEY HAVE), then there are no more walls between them. If Spock has a nightmare or a bad mission, Kirk doesn’t even need to be in the same room—he’ll feel it, and vice versa. They’re basically like walking, talking lifelines for each other. The ultimate comfort in knowing that someone else truly understands you, down to your bones. That’s the beauty of their bond.

God, I’m tearing up just writing this.

Okay, I should stop before I start wailing about how their souls literally help heal each other. But honestly, that’s what I think: they comfort each other with silent presence, psychic connection, and the knowledge that—no matter how bad things get—there’s always someone who understands and loves them completely. Their bond is UNBREAKABLE, and it’s what keeps them sane through the nightmares, the away missions, and the endless galactic battles. GAHHHHH, I love them SO much.

Are you still with me?! How’s YOUR heart, because mine’s a MESS!

[tennessoui]

"is that my shirt?" or "Who were you with?"

!!! first of the prompts!!!! ok so this is "is that my shirt", set in the lumberjack anakin au, where obi-wan moves up to small town alaska for trauma reasons, accidentally moving into anakin's deceased mom's old place, and they sorta? fall in love? ft. shy and earnest anakin, oblivious obi-wan, and how great it can feel to share the burden of your grief with someone who makes it more bearable:

(2k)

There are three coffeeshops in Caldswels, Alaska. 

One of them is a new and ambitious Starbucks, so really there are two coffeeshops in Caledswels.

Obi-Wan has a slight preference towards On the Rocks. The owner is friendly without being forceful and is apparently alright with allowing him to sit at a table and drink a singular iced cappuccino for an hour and a half.

It’s also…cozy in On the Rocks. Vos, the owner, either has an eye for design or a lot of luck, because he’s gotten everything perfectly placed to make the small converted lodge feel awfully more like home than close to damn near anything Obi-Wan’s felt since he left California.

Well. 

Alright.

That’s not exactly true, because where he lives now—the cabin in the woods on the edge of what counts as downtown here—that feels homey, now that it’s not so damn cold and drafty all the time there. It feels lived in, which is odd whenever Obi-Wan thinks about it because when he’d moved in, it’d been empty. 

And he hadn’t moved in with many things either.

He knows who used to live there, of course. He knows the son who survives her.

He’d even go so far as to say they’re friends, though it’s the sort of friendship Obi-Wan doesn’t have the strength or time to look too closely at.

But the truth is, he doesn’t need to examine his friendship with Anakin Skywalker to know that they’re friends. It’s the way he feels around him. It’s the way he wore that yellow scarf Anakin had knit past the point of ragged and into unseemly. It’s the way—

It’s the way that Obi-Wan woke up this morning feeling like the world was pressing against his chest and so he stumbled out of bed, wrapped himself in more layers than he ever wore before moving to Caldswel, and went to On The Rocks. Not because of Vos or because of the interior design or because of the stupid frozen sign out front that says Life Without Coffee Is Pain Au Chocolat even when Obi-Wan is very sure Vos has never sold a chocolate croissant in his life—it’s because sometimes this is where Anakin comes to get coffee.

Only sometimes and almost always with a girl in tow, a local Vos had informed him Anakin helped tutor in environmental science, even though Obi-Wan had never asked.

But even when the girl—Ahsoka—is a step or two behind him coming through the door, Anakin never fails to see him, to make his way over through the coffeeshop and offer him a kind word, a softer smile.

Obi-Wan, for his part, never fails to grasp that offering of a human connection the way one might a branch as he drowns. And usually, but not always, Anakin sits across from him, and they talk quietly and privately until Ahsoka grows tired of talking with Vos and bullies her way in between them.

So. They’re friends because friends help lift the weights off of each other’s chests. And friends understand the pain of loss, how to juggle it with the pain of recovery. And friends brighten the room when they enter it. And friends duck their heads when they laugh to look up at each other from beneath long blond and fragile eyelashes.

Obi-Wan stabs only a bit dourly at the ice cube in his cup. He should not get another drink. It is a terrible idea for a man like him to drink more caffeine so late in the day, but he isn’t quite sure what else he should do...except leave.

Because Anakin hasn’t come yet, and the words are not coming either. They’re trapped somewhere, delayed within him on their way to fill in the blank page and that’s fine. And it’s fine that Anakin isn’t here either, because it’s a Wednesday at three in the afternoon and other people have lives—

“Chin up, Kenobi,” Vos says as he passes by, collecting Obi-Wan’s (empty) glass without so much as a by-your-leave. “He’ll stop by.”

Obi-Wan splutters, but even his words get caught up in his throat until he finally snaps, much more waspish than intended, “How would you know?”

“Because, my sweet little desert cactus,” Vos leans against the chair across from him, smile dancing at the corner of his mouth, “he comes in everyday, even when you're not here. Looks around, leaves before even ordering anything. Only good for letting all the cold air in, I’ll tell you.”

“That’s—” outrageous. Untrue. A wicked falsehood. “I imagine that’s common. You advertise chocolate croissants outside, I’m sure you get many potential customers sticking their heads in to see if you’ve baked them yet.”

Vos raises a finger threateningly but before he can say anything else, the bell over the door to the shop jingles as it’s hit. Out from the cold and the dark of the Alaskan December comes Anakin Skywalker, face almost completely hidden by his layers. 

He stops in the doorway, turning his head in a steady arc from left to right until his eyes land upon Obi-Wan’s table. Only then does he step forward into the shop, letting the door almost fall completely closed on the smaller figure of his companion.

“Looks like I have customers, must go,” Vos says.

“Count your lucky stars,” Obi-Wan tells him in reply but his attention is thoroughly captured by the lumberjack carefully picking his way towards him as he undoes his layers.

“When do I not, Obi-Wan?” Vos shoots back, but then Anakin is there and Obi-Wan is too busy smiling up at his friend to think about anything else.

“You haven’t been here in six days,” is the first thing Anakin says, eyebrows pulling down severely over his eyes as he stares at Obi-Wan’s face.

“My wallet was getting slim,” Obi-Wan lies. The truth is much more thorny. It is that he hadn’t particularly wanted to go anywhere or see anyone for the past week. After suffering through the grocery store visit—a necessary evil in order to purchase the creature comforts needed to survive—he’d decided to hole up in his cabin until the feeling of walking alongst the edge of a black hole receded somewhat.

“I wanted to send out search parties,” Anakn says in that short, gruff way of his that Obi-Wan finds fitting and endearing. “Dogs.”

“Oh, you’re no—”

“Anakin,” a voice that is not Ahsoka’s trills from the register. “What do you want?”

Obi-Wan turns instinctively to look, because it’s definitely not Quinlan’s either. A short brunette, swallowed by her thick purple down jacket smiles at them both, a hint of fond impatience lurking around her mouth.

Obi-Wan’s brows furrow without his permission or even his understanding as to why he suddenly feels...discontent.

“A cappuccino? A latte? Americano?” The woman suggests, as if Anakin doesn’t know what sorts of beverages a coffeehouse offers.

Anakin doesn’t even drink caffeine except when he drinks tea, and Vos has made a point of only carrying one sort of herbal tea, just because he gets some sort of sick thrill in pissing Anakin off.

“Hot chocolate,” Anakin requests like Obi-Wan knew he would.

“Are you sure you don’t want something stronger? Long night ahead of us,” the woman says as if she’s not shouting across the deserted coffeeshop the details of their...what. Their sex life?

Obi-Wan coughs and Anakin turns scarlet, blush reaching up to the edges of his ears.

“She’s visiting and wants to see the Aurora lights,” Anakin mutters, tugging at the scarf around his neck. “Ahsoka’s letting me borrow her dogs, I’m taking her out to Beggar’s Gorge for the best view.”

“That’s..romantic,” Obi-Wan says, struggling to force his tone into something that sounds vaguely approving and not at all lost and confused.

“It’s not,” his friend replies, still so quietly Obi-Wan has to strain to hear him. “It’s just the best view. For the lights. At this time of year.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Obi-Wan admits. “I’m not visiting for the lights,” he adds, and Anakin, whose attention has been torn between him, the table, the wall behind him, the cash register, the woman, and the snow outside, snaps to look at him.

“That’s the first time you’ve said you’re visiting,” he says as if the word has done something to offend him personally.

Obi-Wan stares back at him.

For some strange reason, the first thing he thinks about saying is, This is the first time I’ve ever felt like an outsider around you, but for obvious reasons he swallows those words back

Anakin is right though. From their first meeting only a few months ago, it’s been Anakin so sure Obi-Wan’s going to blow out of town as quickly as he’d entered it and Obi-Wan steadfast in his commitment to staying around for the long haul, for no other reason than Caldswels, Alaska was as a good a place to hide out as any.

It suddenly feels very hot in here. Obi-Wan wouldn’t put past Vos to have turned up the heat just to fuck with him.

To distract himself from the intense look on Anakin’s face, he shrugs out of his sweater, pulling the gray material over his head and leaving him in just his—

“Is that my shirt?” Anakin sounds strangled. 

Obi-Wan frowns and looks down at himself, even though the question is ridiculous. After all, he cannot think of a single situation where either of them has been shirtless around the other. When he says this, Anakin’s face burns.

If he were a better man, he might feel guilty. As he is, he feels bad enough to at least confess: “I got this at the thrift store.”

“I donate old clothes to the thrift store,” Anakin says this as if it’s some sort of revelation he’s having at fucking On The Rocks Coffeeshop.

Obi-Wan blinks. “Alright,” he says slowly. “But I’m sure you’re not the only person in Alaska that wears blue and gray plaid.”

“That’s mine,” his tone is firm and confident, even though his cheeks are still very red. “There’s—there’s a hole in the left sleeve. Right? I wore that shirt when I was a teenager and I had a nervous habit of biting it there.”

Obi-Wan blinks again. There is a hole in the left sleeve. He’s wondered where it’s from. “Huh,” he says. “What are the odds?”

Anakin doesn’t look particularly pleased. “I donated that shirt a few years ago before I outgrew it. It’s too thin. Not warm enough.”

“Hence the sweater,” Obi-Wan points out, feeling strangely protective of the shirt. “And the coat. And gloves. And hat.” 

Really, it’s almost in the negatives here. Nothing is warm enough.

Anakin’s head cuts to the left, so highly displeased that it comes off as incredibly angry. Obi-Wan thinks vaguely he’s going to wear this threadbare shirt for the rest of his life. Just because.

Before he or Anakin can say anything else, perhaps explain themselves or poke fun at the other, the brunette woman is suddenly there, hip nudging against Anakin’s shoulder.

“I’ve never met a barista so talkative,” she says, holding a to-go cup out to Anakin. “I swear, I know more about Quinlan’s life than I do yours now.”

Anakin frowns, but Obi-Wan isn’t sure if it’s because of Quinlan, who Anakin doesn’t usually like, or because of the idea that his girlfriend was talking for so long with another man.

“They need lining,” Obi-Wan’s attention is snapped back to Anakin suddenly at these words. Anakin is staring at him, frown marring his handsome features. “The flannel. To keep you warm. You need lining.”

“I think I know how to shop for clothes,” Obi-Wan replies automatically, snappishly, even though he’s flattered by Anakin’s clothes.

If anything his words make the other man’s frown intensify.

“You were going to show me the town,” the woman prompts in the silence that follows. “Come on, we have, I don’t know. Fifteen minutes of daylight left? Thirty?”

They have about five, but Obi-Wan isn’t going to say anything. “It was nice to see you,” he says because he can’t shake the feeling that he should, that he needs to release Anakin from this unexpected social tie before he can leave.

He smiles up at the lumberjack, even though the weight is back against his chest.

It’s unsurprising, is the thing. And natural.

Anakin leaves, though he looks back twice. 

Once probably to make sure he’s not left anything behind himsa he goes.

Twice…well. Twice for a reason Obi-Wan can’t quite label.

Or understand.

send me a prompt from this list to fill

[littlesistersti]

Rant or Trauma Dump: Overblot Leona is Relatable as a Student in American Public School

Will keep this short as possible

Abstract: Leona's trauma = shared trauma but (American) 12th grader student edition. I share my experience. Am I allowed to say it's my trauma when it's just resentment?

Work count: 585

Leona expressed strong resentment at the idea of birth > skill so why r bother trying? Nobody cares. I understood it from a story writing standpoint at first then this came to me and I felt things.

Not sure how common this is around the globe but I went to an American public school for high school/secondary school education (why do I sound like a foreign exchange student haha) and every week of/before homecoming or winter break or some major event, there’s spirit week in which each grade level compete with themed outfits, lunch time activity\games, and assembly games. Win enough points to beat the other grade.

Off topic but my school’s Assembled Student Body have zero creativity for lip sync and themes because why do they keep doing Marvel and Disney? I might as well think we’re sponsored by Disney because we could’ve had HTTYD or Wonder Woman for crying out loud. Also there was a spirit day for “hype beast” in which you wear the high end stuff like Supreme. Well, I was bullied in elementary school for being NOT high income so I held resentment for those things.

Freshman year (9th grade), I did my best but we came in last place. Seniors won. Sophomore year, I felt bad for the freshmen who tried harder than us last year and they lost. Their side was decked out in white, it looked like Big Bear. Seniors won. Junior year, I figured it out it was pointless. Seniors won. Then came our turn. I noticed it. My fellow seniors would not bother trying because they knew they’d win anyway or would cheat the system like raising their hands for points even though they’re not wearing anything spirit (sometimes they be counting shoes). I hated it. I hated it more when the senior favoritism happens before your eyes.

Every winter assembly, there should be a sled race where one player is in a cardboard box and another pulls. Seniors never pull because their box has a giant hole so they can stand up and run to the finish line like a Grinch. I never saw that my senior year. Every assembly ever, there’s supposed to be a clapping game similar to Simon Says. The freshman are always duped on the first “clap” and the seniors don’t even play the game, it’s an applause! A standing ovation even! Even the seniors get to win the lip sync battle every time. Makes me wonder if they could stand in the corner then still win first place. In elective and math (above Algebra 1) classes, you would find mixed grade levels so not sure how much the point-counters scrutinize. They are not nit picky with seniors. If you raise your hand, we don’t check. Below seniors? They check. Yet, I think the cronyism is the main problem.

Seniors don’t need any skill set. They just need to be that class and bam, easy win. Any other class could try as they might and never win. I hated it more when people say, “let them win, they’re graduating.” Might as well give them all passing grades, senior year is the easiest anyways. No worries about senioritis. All the teachers love you because you’re mature baby-adults and about to leave. Hate the freshmen because they’re the hooligans. Let’s bully the freshmen.

Conclusion: Leona is relatable in the birth order > skill set resentment and not trying hard if nobody cares, because of the high school seniors favouritism I witnessed during spirit week.

[old-acc-lesbianswithguns]

Parallels as evidence for bumbleby being doomed by the narrative

Prefacing this with I LOVE BUMBLEBY and Im not saying I don’t ship them or they’re not in love, but I also love tragedies. Don’t like don’t read don’t comment.

First I want to talk about semblances. There was an obvious link drawn between Adam and Yang because they have the same semblance, only Adam doesn’t take damage from Moonslice and Yang does from Burn.

My line of thinking is that semblances represent a character’s fatal flaw. It’s the thing they need the most to make that flaw easier to deal with. Blake runs away from her problems, which she linked to her semblance in volume 2, so her semblance makes evasive fighting and quick escapes easy. Yang’s semblance is essentially taking damage over and over until it builds up inside her and she explodes in a fiery rage, and her semblance allows her to express that. Adam’s is the same thing, except he uses his sword to avoid taking damage, ie he uses his emotional reactivity as a weapon for malice and abuse while Yang uses it as an unhealthy self destructive habit.

Regardless, Yang and Adam share the same fatal flaw. That’s where the parallel is drawn between them, their shortcomings. When the emotional intensity gets too high for Blake, her instinct is to run, a habit I think she likely picked up from Adam. Blake’s runaway habits parallel with Yang’s worst trauma too - Raven. They’re both the dark brooding characters of their team represented by black who tend to run from their yellow-represented bubbly Xiao Long partners. Blake promised she wouldn’t go anywhere, but years of trauma isn’t going to undo with a death scene and a promise. It’s still in her semblance and her instinct to run away, and it’s in Yang’s to take that very, very personally.

I think this especially because Blake’s semblance (as far as I’m aware) is just the same as the start of the show, indicating no improvement of her fatal flaw. Meanwhile Ruby is a prime example of how semblances grow with the individual. As she slowed down, became tactical and responsible, she gained the ability to bring people with her when she zips around and to manipulate her body mass to pass around awkward obstacles. And while Yang’s semblance didn’t change, she changed how she used it and adapted it for a more controlled and level-headed fighting style.

Hypothetically they could work through their parallels to each other’s insecurities, but they’re in the middle of the entire world falling apart. They have to figure out how to defeat an immortal being. Their relationship so far has been hit after hit of hardships and shared trauma. While I’d love to see them get a happy ending, this is a huge thing to recover from while they’re still in crisis, and they would make the perfect tragedy. That, and I’m a sucker for interpersonal character problems paralleling with the external conflict - an immortal enemy/an inevitably tragic breakup.

(side note I can and will expand on: speaking of parallels, Ruby and Adam have romantic and positive parallels, Blake and Weiss have a crazy amount of parallels setting them up for a bigger rivalry than we’ve gotten so far, and the STRQ parallels I mentioned earlier can be extended to Summer and Qrow in favour of freezerburn)

I doubt CRWBY will ever break them up, especially in favour of freezerburn or ladybug, basically because they’ve had to fight so hard to get Blake and Yang on screen it would be such a shame to get another lesbian tragedy in the absence of those alternate ships. In theories and fanfics we trust.

[yugioh-rare-pair-poll]

Round 1: Poll 9

Propaganda under the cut

Pairing 1: Twistedshipping (Shadi/Maximillon Pegasus | Pegasus J. Crawford)

Propaganda: Shadi is a grief stricken spirit with no one to talk to and Pegasus is a lonely rich boy with time & money but no one to share it with. They've both suffered heavy loss and mad terrible decisions as a result. They've hurt people and are both people who are hurting. But they wear it differently; no one can see Shadi unless he allows it but Pegasus is a public figure. He must be seen, though no one can get close without his permission. The roles they play are so important to the people who the roles serve and yet they're always at a distance from the comfort of the people. All that to say, they should get to hug and be happy. Also the fan art is just beautiful. | Pegasus lamented how his heart was like the empty canvas he toted around half the world longing to fill, then immediately painted a portrait of Shadi and hung it up next to the portrait of his deceased wife. Pegasus clearly idolized Shadi for giving him the Millennium Eye, even though Shadi showed little regard for him, probably thinking of Pegasus as just another necessary step in moving fate along. I think it’s immensely interesting to explore how they both might grow around each other, and how they might recontextualize their shared past after spending more time together. Pegasus would start to see Shadi with something other than blinding adoration, and Shadi would recognize and appreciate Pegasus as a person and not a pawn. The ship has plenty of angst, but room for hurt/comfort and character exploration. And they both at some point, in Yugioh R and Dark Side of Dimensions, adopted a bunch of orphans and took on the role of a father figure; so there’s more fluffy AU potential, too.

Pairing 2: Conquestshipping (Mai Valentine| Mai Kaijiu/Valon )

Propaganda: Valon really seemed to care for Mai, at least according to child me that just never saw the spark of Polar shipping but immediately latched on to Conquest shipping after seeing Valon and Mai interact. Plus they have shared trauma; huzzah for trauma bonding! I just think Mai had more chemistry with Valon than with Joey. | I love that this ship is doomed and bad from the start. He’s the rebound and they both know it, and they’re stuck trying to move past that and never quite managing it. And at the same time Valon is totally devoted to Mai in a way that’s both sweet and pointless. Strong tragedy, strong sad ship.

Now, let’s keep things civil. This is a silly poll where we can share why we love our overlooked ships. There’s no need to be nasty to prove your point. Bashers will be banished to the Shadow Realm.

[alpineshift]

Oooh

eye trauma fic

?!? Please tell me more. Is this angsty because I’m totally here for that! And if it’s not then I’m still totally hete for it, always love your writing. 🩵

Plus: status on the Reporter AU? 😬

Gonna start signing off with this now 🧀

the eye fic 👁👄👁 it is kind of angsty! in yet another magical realism (I'm very predictable), underworld-ish setting, both Jack and Nico are on the run and they're both missing an eye. so I will say, if you're not into that kind of thing/find it icky, give this one a pass! but other than that...I don't want to reveal too much, just bc it's hard to describe without giving too much away LOL

and reporter au!! I'm sweating. I wrote a little more. but not a lot 🥲 I will happily share the little addition I have tho!! for my cheese pal!! 😊🧀

eye trauma fic

"Let go of him," the smaller man snarls from the floor, in spite of the guard's beefy arm mashing his face into the grimy stone ground. He writhes like a man possessed until the guard lifts him and slams him hard again, and the wind is knocked out of him. He wheezes for breaths while his companion sits stiffly and awkwardly on his knees, arms wrenched behind him in a tight hold.

The captain swaggers forward and rips his hood off in relish. For a delicate moment, everyone in the tavern seems to inhale and hold their breaths, waiting for something terrible to happen next.

But nothing does. The men stare down at the figure on his knees. The man on his knees stares right back.

"Captain?" one of the guards asks, uncertainly. The Wanted poster hangs limply in his hand. The sketch on it shows a young man, with close-cropped hair and a straight nose, dark eyes looking up in a striking gaze.

The man on his knees has long, scraggly hair, and a full beard. His nose looks a little more crooked. But more importantly, his left eye is covered by a thick leather patch, and the eye on the right looking up at the guards is a sharp, stunning lake-blue.

reporter au

“It’s nice talking to you, Jack,” Nico says, and he reaches out and catches Jack by the elbow. Jack’s brain immediately whites out. “During games, after them, and outside of them. You’re a genuinely interesting guy, so don’t talk about yourself like that, alright? I wouldn’t be here if you pissed me off.”

“Oh,” Jack says, a little faintly. “That’s. That’s nice. You’re smooth as shit, Nico.”

Nico flashes an amused smile at him. “Well, I do talk a lot for a living,” he says. His gaze darts over Jack’s form, and then he suddenly puts the car in park and just. Gets out of his car. Walks all the way around. And carefully eases Jack’s passenger door open.

He offers his hand and Jack takes it, blankly, allowing Nico to help him out of the car.

“Can you get upstairs okay?” Nico asks. They’re standing pretty close to each other. Jack can feel the warmth radiating off Nico’s front, even through their jackets.

“Yeah,” he croaks.

+ (also) +

Fuck it, Jack thinks, and throws all sense of reservations right out the window. Under the hot, perfect pressure of the shower spray, he takes himself in hand and lets his brain careen into everything he’s suppressed for the night.

Seeing the flush on Nico’s face as he laughs at the team’s jokes. The way his hair falls around his face, soft and sleek. The flutter of his lashes, the attractive curve of his mouth, the flutter of his lashes.

The feeling of his palm, hot and sturdy, pressed against Jack’s lower back. The scent of his cologne, deep and unobtrusive. The feeling of his breath against Jack’s ear when he asked him if he wanted to go. And the final nail in the coffin, the absolute K.O.—getting out of his car and helping Jack out of his seat. Who the fuck does all that.

Jack thunks his head against the tile, speeds up the strokes on his cock, and groans softly into the spray of the water.

[vacantgodling]

1 and 9 for Amon and Hya pls im so sorry the brainrot IS terminal

you & me in the hospital like 😩🤝

1. What’s their love languages?

so i did answer this already BUT to delve further into love languages: they have to learn how to speak each other’s languages a bit, yknow what i mean?

amon has to learn how to read hya. how to say what he wants to hear but also to not back down from showing his True Self to him because hya hates liars and hates hypocrites more than anything. he only starts opening up to amon when amon starts being painfully truthful with him — at least in terms of his desires and who he is as a person, and honestly this is daunting for amon. he’s never had anyone demand so much of him (and if u remember that one scene i showed u when we first became friends wink wink, that’s what he meant when he was saying “i’ve never let anyone know me like this” tm) and yet give so little in return. but, he slowly begins to realize that hya isn’t giving him a little; he’s giving him everything he has. YES he’s bad tempered, yes he doesn’t communicate like a normal fucking person but hya is also giving amon so much of him that it’s dizzying. amon almost can’t handle how much of himself hya gives him and it makes him wonder if he’s giving enough. so he keeps becoming more and more fixated, more and more enamored, more and more unable to detangle himself from hya because he’s never had anyone SEE him and GIVE to him like hya has it’s nuts.

but then at the same time, for hya, learning to love amon is an exercise of trust and trust is The Most Terrifying Thing in the world to this man. he doesn’t trust ANYONE outside of himself, and life certainly has not given him a reason to. but even still, he finds himself believing in amon, listening to him, caring for him no matter how much he tries to minimize their relationship or amon’s affect on him. he lets amon touch him! kiss him! see him while he sleeps!! like even hya can’t deny that he’s allowed amon into the most vulnerable parts of himself (that shriveled thing he calls a heart) and amon made a home there and it’s Terrifying to him.

essentially their love language is also overcoming their internal fears and i’m obsessed with them for it

9. Baths or showers together? Do they like elaborate ones with bubbles and flower petals?

so hya has a whole thing where he’s got trauma around showers so you will never ever see him in one. so baths are the automatic go to. i haven’t actually thought about the two of them sharing a bath (sacrilege ik) but it’s definitely married couple era if it were to happen. amon would be so annoyingly pressed about it and hya would keep trying to tell him to Focus but amon’s just giddy like a kid and would absolutely want ALL the stops. bubbles, petals, champagne LOL. hya’s all “i knew you were easy to please but this is almost comical” and amon’s like “of course i’m easy to please i’m with you.” but they are both so DISGUSTINGLY fond.

idk man it’s just the way that hya starts being more affectionate for me UGGHHHH i need to write like 800 chapters of them being the cutest sappiest married couple they’re GROSSSS i love them 😭😭😭

[ssa-sapphic]

Pairing: Emily Prentiss × (POC)fem!oc

Summary: Andrea is a surgical intern and single mother, struggling to learn how to trust again after a disastrous past relationship left her heart in shards of doubt and fear. Emily is the FBI agent across the hall who wants more than anything to help pick up the pieces and protect what's become so important to her, while also trying to manage her own battle scars. Will they be able to heal from their shared traumas and learn to let each other in? Or will the demons of their past come to haunt them once again, and threaten the lives they've made for themselves?

Warnings: Mentions of violence and graphic descriptions normally found in grey's anatomy/criminal minds. Some nsfw content and domestic abuse-related details (chapters will be labeled accordingly

Word Count: 3.8k

Moving to Virginia, of all places, was never a part of Andrea’s plans. And yet, she had currently found herself hauling boxes into a fancy apartment just outside of Quantico that she hadn’t even paid for. She knew that anyone could take a single glance at her and instantly assume that she couldn’t afford such a place, and they’d all be right. Truthfully, Andrea would have happily settled for something smaller and cheaper, but her parents were wealthy and only wanted her to have what they deemed “the best.” It was like that all the time when she was a kid, going from boarding schools to prestigious colleges, and it only grew worse when she became an adult. They’re always so adamant about paying her way through life, but she doesn’t want their money. She never did.

Instead of having things handed to her on a silver platter, Andrea wanted to work hard and earn them herself like everyone else in the world had to. It was an uphill battle trying to convince them to let her find her way to make ends meet, but finally, they settled on a compromise: because her parents insisted, they would find her a nice place to live near the hospital–where she recently accepted a job at– and pay the downpayment and ongoing rent, while she worried about all other payments, including student loans and personal medical bills. At first, the idea of allowing them to pay for her apartment was unsettling, but hey, there’s no denying she was broke and on her own.

Well, aside from her cute little sidekick of a daughter, Sofia.

Andrea realized pretty quickly after having her three years ago that kids sure are expensive. So, she decided she wasn’t going to complain about being able to raise her in a free apartment after all. Besides, her parents live in the area because they thought it would be best to have a place closer to them so that they can help look after her while she gets adjusted to the bizarre hours that a surgical intern works. All she wanted to do was provide for her daughter and give her the life she deserved without relying on her parent’s money. It sounded rather enticing whenever she thought about it before, but now that it was happening? Let’s just say she didn’t know if she was off to a good start.

It was nearing midnight when she finally reached the front door to her new apartment, where the fancy wallpaper in the hallways already made her feel out of place as she struggled to find her keys. Unfortunately, she couldn’t get to them, given the large box in her right arm and a sleeping Sofia in her left. So, she was in a bit of a predicament. She didn’t want to make any noise, not only because she didn’t want to wake her up but also because she wanted to avoid leaving a bad impression on the neighbors.

Both ends of the scale were bad, a possible toddler tantrum or all of the most fragile items that she didn’t trust the movers with crashing to the floor. At this point, she wasn’t sure what to do. The hallways were empty, so she couldn’t ask for help, and she wasn’t in the best position to squat and set the box on the ground. Feeling helpless and without any other possible solutions, she started to turn around and head back down to her car to leave the box there for the night. However, just as soon as she turned around, her foot got caught on the rug, and she tripped forward, leaving the box to begin slipping out of her grasp as she instinctively felt around for something to hold onto.

“Hey, hold on, let me grab that for you,” A woman’s voice called out from ahead of her, and quickly she felt the weight of the box be relieved from her arms. “Moving in?” The stranger asked, her small smile masking the tired look in her eyes.

Her straight, raven-like hair was to her shoulders and parted down the middle in a way that framed her face well. It matched the color of her eyes and ultimately contrasted with the light tone of her skin. She was certainly attractive, to say the slightest, but what mainly caught Andrea’s eye was the gun holstered at her hip. She was never fond of them, so she could feel her grip on Sofia tighten, even if there was a badge accompanying it.

“Oh, thank you so much!” She spoke with a sighed relief, allowing her to take the box and follow her back to her apartment door. “You’re a lifesaver,” She added, her voice above a whisper to not wake up Sofia.

She fumbled for the silver key in her pocket before slipping it into the lock and twisting it until hearing the subtle click of the gears. “And yes, I just moved in. Well, I should say I’m still moving in. As you can see from the empty apartment.” She chuckled awkwardly, gesturing into the now-opened doorway.

There were only a few pieces of furniture sitting around the place from where the movers left them, plus a small air mattress, a dining table with a few chairs, and one gray sofa. Quickly, she headed over to the small bed to gently lay her daughter down, tucking her in and kissing her forehead before she made her way back over to the stranger waiting patiently at her door.

“I get it,” The woman nodded in understanding as she watched the mother accept the box back from her and quickly walk back to set it on the dining table. “I just moved in a couple of weeks ago, and I still have boxes stored away in my closet.”

“Procrastinating, huh?” Andrea wondered, pulling her thick curls up into a messy bun as she returned to the door.

“Force of habit, actually,” The brunette’s smile widened just the slightest bit. It was infectious, adorned with dimples and pearly white teeth. “I moved around a lot growing up, so I never stayed in one place for too long. I guess somewhere down the line, I had gotten used to never being able to plant roots in the places I’ve stayed at.”

“That makes sense,” She subconsciously crossed her arms, something that didn’t go unnoticed by the stranger at her door. “Hopefully, you stick around this time. It’d be nice to see a friendly face around here. I’m Andrea, by the way.” She finally introduced herself, holding out a hand.

“Emily,” She grasped her hand, her palm warm and slightly callused. “And yeah, I’m hoping I’ll be here for a while.”

As they conversed, Andrea couldn’t help but take notice of the way her tired eyes shined back at her. She could tell from her slight slouch in posture alone that she’d had a stressful day herself. Before she even thought twice about the matter, the words were already flying from her mouth.

“Um, would you like to come in for a drink?”

Never in her life would she have been so trusting of a stranger, but there was something about Emily’s presence that she enjoyed. Plus, it was nice having a conversation with someone her age rather than a 3-year-old, and she wanted to talk more.

“I know it’s late,” She continued, her body unintentionally growing smaller under the weight of her gaze. “But I figured I should thank you somehow for helping me out in the hall. Besides, no offense, but it looks like you could use one.”

“I could say the same about you.” Emily teased, causing her to suddenly feel self-conscious and glance down at the baggy clothes she had on from a long day of traveling and hard labor.

Andrea smiled at her disheveled appearance, biting her lip in embarrassment.

“Touché. So, what do you say?” She asked, already knowing the answer as soon as a small grimace made its way onto Emily’s face.

“I’d love to, but I really should get home and try to sleep a little before going back to work in the morning.”

“Oh, right, of course!” She chuckled awkwardly, having forgotten about the time. “I’m sorry, that was probably weird of me to ask in the first place. Thank you again for the help, Emily. It means a lot.”

“There’s really no need to thank me. I’m not home much, but if you ever need anything while I’m around, I’d be more than happy to help. It was nice meeting you, Andrea.” She spoke sweetly before her gaze fixated on something behind the woman in front of her. “I think you may have someone who needs your attention now.”

Quickly, Andrea turned around to see her daughter standing sleepily behind her, rubbing at her tired eyes and clutching her pink blankie.

“Mommy, where’s Teddy?” Her voice trembled as she mispronounced nearly every word. “I can’t sleep without him.”

She looked back to wish Emily goodnight, knowing a tantrum was about to occur, but when she did so, Emily was nowhere to be seen, and the door across the hall was being clicked shut. With a sigh, she closed the door and locked it behind her before walking over to her awaiting toddler.

“Oh, honey. I think he’s still in one of the boxes in the car.” She cringed, mentally cursing herself for not remembering to keep Sofia’s stuffed bear at arm’s reach. “He’ll be safe there tonight, and we can get him first thing in the morning. Think you can manage without him just for tonight?”

Her head slowly shook as tears welled up in her eyes, and Andrea knew what was coming. Soon enough, small cries left Sofi’s lips before the sobs followed shortly afterward. It was like witnessing the oncoming of a big storm. It began with the small droplets falling from the sky, a sign to take cover before the major downpour hit. Unfortunately, the storm rolled in fast, and like thunder, her daughter’s screams echoed through the walls, and no doubt rattled the box of fragile items on the dining table.

“C’mere.” She cooed, scooping her up in her arms and gently rubbing her back while she cried in the crook of her neck.

It was going to be a long night.

When the morning sun finally decided to peek its way through the curtains, Andrea woke up from probably only 5 hours of rest. There wasn’t any point trying to get back to sleep. She knew that she had a lot planned for the day, what with setting up her apartment and moving in the rest of the boxes from her car, including Teddy. He was a top priority after last night’s incidents. Fortunately, she was meeting up with her parents this morning, and they wanted to take Sofi for a few hours. So, hopefully, she could get her actual bed delivered today and get a nice nap in before they dropped her off later in the evening.

In the meantime, however, she figured she’d get a jump start on the day’s activities. With caution, she sat up from the sofa, making sure not to wake the little sleeping beauty lying on her chest. It was an uphill battle trying to get her back to sleep last night, but within time Andrea assumed that the exhaustion from the long trip caught up with her because she eventually cried herself to sleep.

She felt so helpless not being able to comfort her in the way she needed, and it broke her heart to see her daughter in such a drastic state. She’d only ever cried that much for two reasons, and that was if she had a bad dream or if Teddy wasn't there to “protect” her. It only reminded her that she was still so new to parenthood. I mean, she’s been in her life for three years now, but she wasn’t a pro at this. It was times like this when she wished she could just have someone in her corner to help out. She could feel her insecurities about being an unfit mother start to overwhelm her, but she knew she couldn’t go down that road again.

She shook her head to rid her mind of those plaguing doubts, knowing that she’d only been doing the best that she could as a single mother. By the time she finished with her morning routine and began making breakfast, it was around 6:30 when she felt a warm embrace around her left ankle. Looking down, she was met with the adorable sight of her daughter’s big bright hazel eyes staring back at her and her wild mess of a bedhead. That was gonna be a pain to detangle. Still, it was just what she needed for her mood to shift completely, much like it always had been when she was around.

By the time they made it out of the front door, it was somewhere around 7:15. Andrea held Sofi on her right hip while she locked the door to her apartment.

“Are you excited to see Nonna today?” She asked, knowing she favored her more than her grandpa. After receiving an enthusiastic nod in return, she chuckled. “Me too! But first, we gotta zip up this coat, Missy. It’s supposed to be a bit chilly outside today, and we don’t want you catching a cold.”

Lowering her to the ground, she bent down to her height and set her purse on the floor beside her. Sofia’s bright bubblegum pink jacket was halfway hanging over her shoulders, and it took her a little while to get it situated so that she could zip it up. Her daughter, of course, didn’t make it easy. Opting to stomp and dance in place like children often did because standing in place for too long was just too agonizing. But once she did manage to zip it up, she gave her nose a little *boop* because she was so darn cute, and it never failed to make her giggle.

Suddenly, the door behind her burst open and closed shut with such a ruckus that Sofia and her mom both flinched, having been used to the lonely hallway.

She hadn’t had much time to act before she felt someone trip over her purse. Their body tumbled to the ground directly in front of them with a loud *thud*. Quickly looking up in worry, Andrea saw the same brunette from last night lying before her, grunting in pain.

“Oh, my god!” She gasped, eyes widened with concern as she quickly approached her. “Emily, I’m so sorry! Are you alright?”

By the looks of it, she could tell she was in a hurry to be somewhere, and she assumed it was work-related, given she was dressed professionally in a nice sweater and slacks. The same gun was holstered to her hip, as well as the badge hooked onto her side belt. Her hair was a bit out of place from the fall, yet Andrea still managed to catch sight of a small smile gracing her face while she licked her bottom lip in embarrassment.

God, why was she such a sucker for dimples? She fell for her daughter’s every time she used them to her advantage, and she could already feel the effect Emily’s started to have on her, though she hardly knew her.

“I’m fine,” Emily assured them, making a point to speak directly to Sofia, who was cowering behind her mom’s legs with her thumb in her mouth. Something she only did when she was anxious or scared. The sudden noise and commotion must’ve scared her, so after Andrea helped Emily from the ground, she guided Sofia in front of her so she could see there wasn’t any threat or need to worry.

“Just a little clumsy, that’s all, see!” Emily continued, making a show of twisting her arms around to show Sofi everything was okay. She then turned her attention over to Andrea with the same gentle smile as if she didn’t just see her wincing slightly during her display. “Are you and your daughter okay? I didn’t get either of you on the way down, did I?”

“No, we’re completely fine. Don’t worry.” She answered truthfully, glancing at her daughter just to double-check before looking at her once again. “Are you sure you’re alright, though?”

Concern was evident on Andrea’s face as she focused on the way Emily was subtly holding onto her wrist. She didn’t even think twice before she stepped forward and gently took it into her hands, allowing her fingers to graze softly along the smooth skin. While putting slight pressure here and there to check for bruising or swelling, her mind wasn’t even focused on how close they were. She was too distracted by her doctor mode showing itself, cataloging every freckle on her skin, every twist of a ligament, every outline of bone.

“Uh, yeah, I’m fine.” Emily stammered slightly, clearing her throat afterward, which made Andrea smirk to herself.

“Well, it doesn’t look like you sprained it, so that’s good.” She gave her a reassuring smile, still holding onto her hand. “But you should probably ice it for a few minutes if you can, just to take the redness down.”

“Thank you for taking a look. I’m sure it will be fine,” Emily replied, pulling her hand back and cradling it near her chest. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re a doctor.”

“You’d be correct.” She laughed sheepishly.

It was then that Sofia reached up for her mom, who didn't hesitate to pick her up and set her on her right hip while she wrapped her purse around the other.

“By the way,” She changed the subject. “I don’t think you were properly introduced last night, but this is my daughter, Sofia. Can you say hi, Sof?” She looked at her, but the little girl only gave Emily a small wave before hiding her face in the crook of her mom’s neck. “Sorry, she can be a little shy sometimes.”

Emily smiled brightly. “That’s alright. Hi Sofia, my name is Emily.” She spoke gently, stepping only a little closer before pointing to the sleeves of Sofi’s pink coat. “Is this your favorite color?”

Sofia nodded a little, pulling her head out of Andrea’s neck in curiosity.

“Do you want to know what my favorite color is?” Emily continued, waiting for her to nod once more before reaching into her bag and pulling out a red lollipop. Something that instantly made Sofia’s eyes go wide. “My favorite color is red, just like this! Do you like lollipops?”

She let out a soft ‘mhm’ in response, the fresh curls of her ponytail bouncing along as she nodded. To which Emily chuckled.

“Can you ask your mommy if you can have this lollipop? I think it was made just for you!”

Sofia’s next words to her mom were almost incoherent due to her excitement, but she managed to hear her use her manners, and that was all she needed.

“I don’t see why not.” Andrea agreed, immediately receiving a cheer in response from her daughter. She had already begun leaning out of her embrace to accept the lollipop before showing her true strength by ripping it open. But her mom quickly stopped her with a raised eyebrow. “Hey, wait a minute! Honey, what do you say to Emily for giving you a treat?”

“Oh,” Her head perked up in thought before she smiled shyly and rested her head on her shoulder. “Thank you, Emmy!”

“That’s my girl.” She kissed her head before looking up at Emily with a knowing smirk. “Be prepared. She’s gonna expect you to always have candy on you every time she sees you.”

“Well, luckily, I usually always have something.” She replied, zipping her bag closed. “Part of what I do involves having a specialization in children. So I always keep a couple of treats just in case.”

Intrigued, Andrea was about to ask what her profession was. However, she noticed the way she began fidgeting with her hands, and it was then that she remembered she was originally in a hurry to leave.

“Well, I don’t want to keep you. But, um, I was wondering if you’d like to grab a coffee with me sometime? My treat?” She asked, albeit a bit nervously. “I know you told me you’re a busy woman, and honestly, I don’t know what my schedule will look like once my internship starts,” She began rambling. “I just feel like I really owe you one, Emily. I mean, you helped me out last night, and I ended up making you fall this morning and probably be late to work. So, please let me do something nice for you.”

The words flew from her mouth before she could catch them, and the next thing she knew, she was diving into the fact that she was new in town and need of friends. It wasn’t until she saw the amused look on Emily’s face that she paused mid-sentence. “I’m sorry, I’m ranting, aren’t I?”

Emily laughed a little, “It’s okay. You’re cute when you ramble. And actually, I do a fair bit of traveling for my job, so I don’t know when I will be completely free again. Our jet has been grounded for a mandatory safety inspection for the next two days, so maybe we can make something work then?”

She reached back into her bag while Andrea stood a blushing mess, unable to form an actual response after hearing Emily call her cute. “Here, take this,” She handed her a card with her contact information on it. “And if you ever hear me at my apartment, feel free to knock. I don’t have many friends here either and would love some company.” She winked before speaking to Sofia in hushed tones. “Don’t tell your mommy, but I have a new kitty who is little like you.” She reached over and tickled her belly to get a bit of a laugh, which she succeeded in. “And he would love to have some new friends to play with.”

With that, she checked her backward watch and quickly started to sprint down the stairs, calling up a final goodbye on her way out. Andrea watched as she left, only hoping that she hadn’t noticed her reddened cheeks.

Honestly, she never used to be such a nervous and self-aware person. She was always a social butterfly to her peers and practically radiated confidence in the way she presented herself. However, everything changed after her last relationship with Sofia’s father. She was left broken with the type of baggage that was filled to the brim with nothing but coping mechanisms and insecurities.

Nowadays, she was always worried about saying the wrong thing, but so far, Emily’s kindness was like a lighthouse in the distance, as cheesy as that sounded. She saw the light within her, and it gave her an ounce of hope that maybe she could escape the darkness still lingering around her.

Only time would tell.

a/n: hope you liked the first chapter! let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist for this fic <3

taglist: @sweetmidnights @leftoverenvy @ssajemilyprentiss @heidss

[multiplicity-positivity]

Just a question: if a system integrates and eventually fuses, will the fused single person remember the trauma? And is it normal to not want integration to happen?

I’m the protector and main trauma-holder (a few alters have varying memories of the trauma, and a few don’t have any memory at all) and for some reason I just feel like if we integrate and that wall of amnesia goes away, I guess it’d just feel like I remembered and took the pain of the trauma all for nothing. And I don’t want the other alters (especially the younger ones) to have to deal with something I’ve can deal with myself. It’s pretty selfish of me and I’m worried I’m going to hold the system back for healing. Idk

yes. and also... yes.

a big part of integration is lowering those dissociative barriers and allowing all alters to have access to different memories, even traumatic ones. it comes with the territory of learning, healing, and processing trauma together.

(lil disclaimer - fusion and integration mean different things, though integration is necessary before fusion can occur. integration involves breaking down dissociative barriers so that the system can all be aware of each other and share their memories. fusion involves multiple alters coming together permanently to form a single entity.)

many systems feel nervous and apprehensive about integration, and are downright terrified at the thought of fusion. as far as we understand, this is a pretty natural response to someone learning their trauma history may be more extensive than they once thought. it’s natural to push back against that, to want to deny or ignore trauma, and to feel like one or two alters have to exclusively handle trauma memories in order to protect the system.

and honestly, without access to meaningful treatment, we feel like this is one of the best ways for a system to continue functioning without letting their trauma destabilize and overwhelm them. no system should be forced to integrate before they’re ready. and keeping these trauma memories separate may be one of the only ways for a system to effectively manage their dissociative symptoms.

you say that you think if your system were to integrate, it would leave you feeling like remembering and taking the pain of your trauma was for nothing. we understand why you may feel this way, but we’d like to respectfully disagree.

at the time of your trauma, you formed as a means of protecting your system. your whole life of knowing and holding onto traumatic memories was protecting your system from events that they were not ready or able to know about. as a trauma holder, you have fulfilled a vital and necessary role for your system - holding onto traumatic experiences so that the rest of your system wouldn’t have to deal with them.

healing will not negate any of this. but eventually, through time, patience, and treatment, you may reach a point where you holding those memories isn’t protecting your system anymore. as y’all learn more about each other and strive for recovery, it may become more and more important for the rest of the system to learn about your trauma so they can understand how it affects them.

because even if all your traumatic memories belong to a few specific alters… that trauma still affects everyone in the system. even if they don’t know the specifics or have no memories of it, the trauma responses remain and the wounds left by trauma remain. and they will always remain until the system has had a chance to heal.

it is not selfish for you to want to protect your alters from dealing with those memories! we’re sure they are incredibly painful - no one should ever have to go through what you and your system went through. it’s good that you want to protect your system!

at the same time, it’s important to recognize that there may come a time when the best way to protect your system is to share your memories with them. not immediately, and not before you’re ready! but toying around the concept of openness is a great first step.

it is incredibly difficult (if not impossible) to process and heal from trauma without alerting the rest of your system to what that trauma even is. we certainly know in our system we could never hope to heal without clueing in alters about what happened to us. this is not something you should have to face and grapple with alone. you may feel like hiding these memories from your system is a way to protect them (and for now, that may be true!!) but as y’all start to heal we hope that will not always be the case.

sorry this turned out so long. we really really feel for you and have alters in our own system who are dealing with an incredibly similar situation (one of which is cofronting right now!). but this is what we think after having lots of discussions about trauma, dissociation, and our system with our therapist.

we wish your system the very best of luck with everything! we’re rooting for y’all and hope you’re able to heal, recover, and grow closer together as a result :)

🐢 kip, 🦇 kandi, and 🌸 margo

[deputy-buck]

Good Coffee and Good Mornings

Maybe it’s their shared childhood trauma, or their rigorous training provided by good ‘ol Uncle Sam, but neither Gutterson boy can sleep past 06:30. It’s not like their jobs allow for them to get too slack on their sleep schedules anyway, Tim being in the Marshal Service, Cade being in the Fish and Wildlife Protection Service, both up and out the door before the sun most days.

Habits die hard or don’t die at all in what’s left of this family.

They find each other in the kitchen at 06:12.

Cade, with a cup of coffee in his hand and dressed for work, is waiting patiently for his biennial ‘Big Brother Duties’. He doesn’t move an inch when Tim walks silently through the threshold in boxers and a pre-caffeine scowl, but he does track all of Tim’s movements with his eyes. Early August’s morning sunshine is just starting to peek through the blinds above the sink, tinting the light countertops and dark hardwoods so many shades of orange that it feels like they’re bathing in it. He only gets to have this familiarity for two weeks every other year, he’s going to soak it up.

The younger man only has two things in mind: Good coffee and a forehead kiss. In that order.

"I should be back before nineteen hundred." Cade breaks the morning peace, taking another mouthful of coffee while he watches his little brother grab a cup from the top shelf, having to arch up on his tippy-toes to reach the off-white handle of a coffee cup. It wasn’t intentional, but what’s normal height to Cade is a little high for Tim, eight inches between them and all. 

"Mm." Tim grunts, voice sleep rough. He's already grabbing the coffee pot before his heels even reconnect with the ground, pouring steaming liquid to the brim and taking a sip all with his eyes half closed.

God, this shit's good, Tim thinks to himself.

"I got work tomorrow, too." Cade leads on with an extra hint-hint nudge-nudge to his tone, southern drawl thick and taunting. He's fighting back a smile at Tim's unobservance, happy Tim isn't immediately on high alert in his house.

Cade worked hard from day one of Tim’s life to make his little brother feel unconditionally safe in his presence, it wasn’t easy given where they grew up, but damn it if Cade didn’t do everything he could to make himself Tim’s personal safe haven. And now Tim feels safe here, Cade could never ask for anything more. Cade only hopes that Tim feels like this place is his home as well.

"Mm-hmm." It’s more so a hum this time, throat soothed with high-quality caffeine. Tim can tell his big brother is still in the ‘wow, I can buy nice things without feeling guilty about wasting it because of surprise deployments.’ phase of Vet-Life eight years later. Good for him.

"You just want me to tell you 'bye' right now so I'll have to say it again in an hour, huh?" The older man accuses, smile finally splitting his features in two. He wishes he could have this every morning, the easy flow between them, a quiet yet full morning. He’s tired of an empty house. No, he’s tired of not having Tim around anymore; the six dogs, ferret, and red-tailed Boa fill the house plenty. Not to mention the goddamn horse outside. 

"Mm, not bye, just good mornin’." Tim corrects easily, eyes now fully shut, enjoying the familiar ease of summer mornings in Shelby, Texas. 

"You're still mentally like, eleven, ain't you?” Cade throws his arm around Tim’s shoulders, putting most of his weight down for a moment just to be an ass. “Same height at least."

"I enjoy routine and tradition, sue me." Tim says, pointedly not responding to the age-old jab verbally. Instead, he leans his shoulder into Cade’s side, digging the sharp bone into sensitive nerves layered over the taller man’s ribs. He only lets up when Cade squirms and takes the weight off his shoulders. Cade lets his hand rest on the countertop behind Tim’s back, his forearm pressed to blanket-warm skin.

This feels right. Why did this ever have to fade away? The plastic dog door flaps open as Tracker makes her way through it excitedly having heard Tim, i.e. her favorite human. Tim is suddenly being pressed harder into the body he was only leaning on, big, spotted paws on his side pushing him closer while Cade cranes his neck down to reach Tim’s forehead. 

“Good mornin’, Bubba.” Cade murmurs with his lips pressed between the shorter man’s eyebrows. When the hand previously resting on the lacquered wood comes down to pet his prized hunting dog, his fingers land on a set of spindly digits already blindly scratching through short fur. “You need to pluck your unibrow.” 

“Fuck you, man. I come here to get away from whiny old men, not deal with a different one.” Tim outright whines, eyes finally opening to glare at Cade in that stupidly petulant way he’s capable of even at forty. 

[granulesofsand]

Hi! Hope it's ok to ask this. First some background. We have DID. I don't know our trauma. Recently I told our therapist something I suspect may have caused our trauma. Based on patterns I've noticed and how we react to things. Being very careful not to make any assumptions, beyond what is needed to keep us safe.

But I was so scared. I don't know if I was more scared she would invalidate us, or that she *would* validate it because actually that is frightening too and a lot to process

It felt like a relief to say it. She reacted the best she could, though I thought there would be more shock. But now I feel so much. I want to cry and to scream and to panic. But I can't it's all locked inside and I seem too dissociated to feel any of it properly

Do you have any advice for how to process and express those feelings? Or how to handle them in a healthy way? (and also the inevitable "I shouldn't have shared that, I'm bad, I fucked up, oh fuck oh fuck" which I can also feel is coming)

If this was a normal week I would just take the dissociation but we can't do that this time. Would trying to help another alter to switch maybe help? Or is that an unhealthy way to get through the week? Nothing is written down so maybe I can take the memories back inside with me until they are safe to deal with :) (unlikely, but hey I can hope!)

Hello. We also struggle with expressing emotion, especially when it comes to crying or screaming. I saw a short video a few days ago on TikTok, a survivor raised in a high control group. They talked about having to learn each separately, then merge the skills to get the heavy sobbing that aids in processing.

I agree that outward displays help brains work through the associated emotions, and that it’s less of a struggle to practice crying and vocalizing one at a time.

We actually started trauma therapy by writing down whatever we remember as we’re out in the body, and most of our trauma memories were added after flashbacks. We gave ourselves the words, helped each other through language barriers and poor vocabulary. We started speaking the neutral memories, then some lighter trauma.

We talk to our therapist whenever one of us needs to move boundaries around, let them know whether we need facial or verbal expression of attunement or neither. They’re good with helping us connect memories unless someone asks them not to (though ‘asking’ can look like dissociation or self-soothing, because they know what to look for).

Some of us can cry. We seek them out, always looking for someone to prove our training wrong. Co-fronting with one who can cry shows us that the tears don’t burn, and our support people aren’t bothered by them, and we won’t be punished for it.

Most of us are still at the stage of running away from front when they start to cry, or tossing away the emotions that make them us want to cry. Both of those are dissociation, and we allow both so long as no insider has the job of taking the big emotions on themselves.

For us, the repeating phrases are usually insiders who hide in the mist of our fronting area. We can communicate with them when we can hear them, but we have to demonstrate that their watchers won’t tell on them to our perps. We do this by talking to them out loud, which is making noise that wasn’t allowed growing up.

The lead-up to talking out loud is the same we’re using to scream. We started when we were sick, trying to mouth words to express pain. Then we added in whispering, growing in volume. Once we could do a raspy voiced speech, we tried out keening sounds and whimpering. Our lowest level of vocalizing is either whispered speech or quiet noises, depending on the insider.

We also taught one another with the vocalizing, and we have a select few who can shout or howl or screech. Some angry ones learned how to be loud before the rest, and most of us are at the level of vocalizing. The only groups we don’t expect to learn are the Deaf or non-speaking folks, because we don’t consider disability to need fixing if we can accommodate it, and we make sure they have the choice either way.

For other healthy outlets, consider exercise that raises your heartrate. It can trick your brain into acting regulated after, because it assumes the survival mode chemicals came from that. Punching bags and strength workouts can be good for angry insiders who might otherwise enjoy violence, and it can make the fearful ones more confident in your self-defense ability.

We find some chores to be help us calm down, one way or another. Some folks find laundry cathartic. Personally, I like chopping wood. We sew, and some of us like to rip woven fabrics for later use.

If you can’t do physical labor, there’s also innerworld activities. We have someone who enjoys summoning mugs and shattering them on the ground if you have tactile or auditory imagination, safe spaces if you have visual, good old drawn or sculpted models if you don’t have vivid internal sensation.

Sometimes we just curl up with a warm mug and a hot water bottle, or take a cold shower. Both of those can regulate your nervous system with temperature, though you should probably void shout whether anyone would be opposed to those (neglect and torture can both include these as traumas). If it’s showers specifically that aren’t working, ice packs and stone tiles can be good too.

We prefer making dissociation work for us than making it stop, so we do utilize switching pretty heavily. Eventually, the one switching away will have to confront their problems to heal them, but systemwide problems have systemwide solutions. You can use switches as much as you like, and we’ve seen systems heal by integrating (not necessarily fusing) different members and by healing members individually.

I don’t have a firm solution, as we’re still working on one that suits us, but we have made progress. I hope one of those makes your situation better, too.

[taegularities]

Cmi review:

They’re such a cute couple I can’t😿😿 they love each other so much. You can tell no words can describe how much admiration they have for each other and I’m in awe at how much of their love oozes of the pages, I feel it right in my heart.

“Your soul was already awake, lit up from today’s events; but he dunks it in a brighter shine” I’m sobbing 😭, there’s nothing bigger than their love and want for each other. I can only hope I find a love as true as this in my life

“I know… You don’t care.” His hand leaves the nape of your neck, caressing your face. “But you care about me, yes? You care so much.” I think this is the cutest piece of dialogue in the whole chapter for me😭, he knows but just needs to say it out loud for him to really encapsulate what it means. I know kook fell so hard for her, but it’s in little moments like this I can actually see just fragments of HOW DEEP in love he is with her. It’s the cutest ever

The tie😵‍💫😵‍💫😅😅

“…now if you’re daring me, I’ll have to.” Their banter is to die for, they never cease to amaze me

If I had 3 wishes, I’d use TWO of them to be on the receiving end of cmi!Jk’s head game😊, but maybe just me???

“There’s already a finger to your pussy.” I’m sorry I laughed so hard reading this😭😭😭, like he couldn’t even wait a good 5 secs without needing to touch her, but where’s a jk when u need him🙄

No and I’ll say it again… when she turns around and he’s staring at her ass👀👀👀 idk if I wanna be him or her like you never fail to add something new and unconcerned a secret kink I didn’t know existed???😅

“Somewhere, it stings. That he’s surprised by constant company. By someone not leaving… by someone worth all his affection glueing themselves to him. And yet, you understand.” My babies😣 we all just need a group hug🫂

Her relationship w her mom😭💔 I wish her mom saw her as her own person and not just an extension of her legacy. Oc has such a beautiful personality and her capabilities go so far, but her parents only see her as what she can do for them. To have parents who have shown time and time again they don’t care about you as a person😣… I’m glad she has the friends she does bc that takes such a toll on ppl and some don’t ever find a way out. I’m so happy for her🫶

“You feel bad immediately — even in a playful tone, your heart knows nothing for Jungkook but praise. You guess that’s how kindness affects people.” Stoppppp I’m blushing awwww😭😭😭☺️☺️☺️☺️

Her meeting kooks mom by making a sex joke is so😭😭😭😭😭😂 like ofc when she’s at most ease, kook has to set her up by having his mom over😭😭😭 this was like the funniest thing ever

“With those barely blinking, calm eyes. An ocean of fondness in them, a light, lost smile around his face. As though you’re soothing him, pumping oxygen into his lungs.” HOW DO YOU COME UP WITH THESE LINES😭😭😭😭 I JUST CLUTCHED MY CHEST AND SHOOK MY FIST IN THE AIR!!!! CURSE YOU RID, I FEEL SO LONELY ITS INSANE

Jks dad😭💔 I actually want to avenge him, I want so badly for his dad to sit him down and talk to him and apologize. Having a parent not talk to you/ show you their love and affection is so damaging. You can totally see how each of their relationships w their parents held a weight in their hearts during their breakup and how they both act towards love😞💔. I only want the best for them, but I’m losing hope that either of their parents could ever reverse the trauma they put into their kids. My baby’s I just wanna hug them🫂

The constant kisses, kook is so head over heels it’s insane😂😂😂

“The plastic stars are twinkling — or as much as plastic allows after all. Part of the ceiling is adorned with them; makes your shared space even more of a quiet sanctuary.” EEEEEEEEKKKKK😝😝😝😝😝😝 hes so thoughtful like who would even think about bringing in plastic stars😣🫶 the way they love each other even in the little things, puts so much faith back into love because this can happen!! I’m so glad you’re able to share such cute and romantic aspects of a relationship (even if it’s fiction) because this can happen and people can be loved in such a way

“you’re always there for everyone. I want to be there for you, too, because your worries are just as real. Let me take care of you, too… yes?” I’m literally tearing up🥲 she loves him so much

I’m so excited to see more of ría and just family bsck home. I know they have such cute and embarrassing stories of kook😂

“He comes to a stand, one hand in his joggers; he’s not going to work until a bit later.” Just what I needed in my mind😵‍💫

He’s so stressed over her I can’t even imagine😞

“Hi. It’s me, sweetheart.” My heart💔💔💔

I love eun😞, I can’t wait to see more of her… & tae☺️☺️

This whole scene is so heartbreaking. I’ve seen couples really break up just because of a scare and they already have their own inner troubles, but this really solidified their relationship for me. WRITE THEIR NAMES IN THE MOON YA!!! But it was honestly so tear jerking, her crying relentlessly and him trying his best to comfort her even though he’s equally as scared. I love this couple so much I didn’t even know it was possible to love them more🫶

Koooooooookkkk😭😭😭😭🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶 stawpppppp I’m gonna tear up, I can’t believe we got it so soon😝😝😝 I feel like they even transcended beyond “I love you”, you could feel the love radiating from them since silhouettes really!!! They are love personified and I can’t wait to see what’s in store for them

Hi!! Doing it a bit diff this time😜. Sorry for being MIA after telling you how much I loved CMI, a lot of stuff had happened/happening in my life and I’m not really “okay” about anything yet, I still have a lot to work through, but I think I’ll get there soon? (I hope). Just had to makes sure i sent this in because it’s the least I could do for all that you’ve done sharing this story with the world🫶

And How are you rid? I hope you’re doing well and taking things day by day. I miss you lots and hopefully soon I can check up on you again🫶 I know life is a lot and there’s so much factors into how we feel but just know I’m by your side and always rooting for you, you’re never alone as long as I’m here🩷

And please do whatever your heart really wants. I wouldn’t want you to leave because you’re one of the happiest things on tumblr for me and it’s one of our only ways of communicating, but I support no matter what decision you decide. All your feelings are valid and you deserve to be on here feeling loved. I’m all for you choosing happiness and that’s all I truly want for you riddie.

Please take care of yourself I love you

⭐️

STARRR STAR THANK YOUUUU!!!! oh my god, i love your reviews so much!! even if it takes me a bit to get to them, i enjoy reading and rereading them a lot, like you're so incredibly kind and supportive like 😭

i'm so beyond thrilled that you liked cmi11!!! i'm saying it rn, we will one day love and be loved just the same, lighting candles rn rn!!!

the banter will never cease lmao like that's who they are :'D i'm happy you're still enjoying it and there's so much more where that came from!! like, can you believe we're just halfway through? the shenanigans between them shall only increase!! also yes… the tie @.@ you'd use 2 wishes to be on the receiving end of his head game? that makes two of us, star… then again, can fully understand being confused about who you'd rather like to be, bc i also have a crush on both of them </3 always there to help you explore unknown kinks 🤣

her mom is indeed a beast to conquer :( we can just hope that she takes a bit of time to think about her daughter and who she truly is. to reflect on her anger and come to terms with the fact that her girl has grown and is such a wonderful person, even without charmante. oc will definitely be burdened by this neglect for a long time, but what a relief that she has her friends and kook <3

BUT THEN AGAIN HIS MOM AHHH I KNOWWW HAHAHA THE SEX JOKE. she's such a clown and jk knows, too 😭 that was so so evil of him though 😭 "how they both act towards love" hurt me so much :( please do give them the tightest hug. they so deserve it sigh. and don't lose hope 🥺 we shall see how things play out, there's still a lot to go!! :D

you're so right… this can happen 🥺 i've experienced love in the most painful way and have had moments where i gave up on it, too, but honestly… this can exist, so we need to keep hoping that one day, we will be loved in such a way, too 🤍 it can absolutely happen. talking of romance, you shall see more of eun and tae sometime soon for sure 😛

yeah… pregnancy scares are no joke. it needs quite a bit of resilience and patience to withstand that stress and be there for your loved one, no matter what, and oc was definitely fearing that jungkook might not hold on. but he did prove to her that he'd stay, no matter the result 🥺 ugh, god, they were both so broken im gonna cry too fkashfkajjf

and the confession actually did make me cry so much lol i remember writing the first 'i love you' and pausing and starting to sob like crazy kjfhsykjfhsafgjk and yes, there was definitely something going on since silhouettes ahhh :') 'love personified' 🥺 star 🥺

don't worry about taking a bit to get back to me!! i can be so slow, too. i'm just glad you're here and i hope you feel a lot better soon. life is so cruel ugh and you deserve all the happiness and love in the world 🥺 i'm here if you ever need to talk!! thank you for your kindness regardless <3

i've been… okayyy. it's a constant up and down, but it's gotten a bit better, so let's see. i miss you as well <3 thank you for reaching out, for saying all you said and for being so sweet to me. i love you sm 🤍

[mxtxfanatic]

I don’t have access to my laptop that has all my posts on it, so bear with me. I agree with you that a lot of this discourse comes from people substituting themselves into what they feel like is the jc-wwx relationship, so they expect wwx to divulge all his trauma to jc because “well they’re brothers and I’d want my sibling to tell me things because I love my siblings, therefore jc must love wwx and want the same.” However, I don’t agree with anything else, because I think that this is a misreading of wwx’s character and the scenes listed. For one: jc and wwx are not brothers, no, not even adopted. Wwx was not adopted. They do not see each other as brothers and are never shown in the novel to view each other that way. Jc and wwx have a friendship that devolved almost completely into a superior/subordinate relationship that then ended the moment wwx defected from the Jiang.

I say this in a later response in this very post thread, but everything post-fall of lotus pier isn’t about whether wwx wants to share his hurts but whether he can. We see pre-fall wwx complain about hurts and injuries all the time, with friends and strangers alike. So to that, jyl not wanting to answer a personal question about love has nothing to do with whether or not wwx would share his pains with her, because her aversion to the romance question is about her avoiding her own hurts surrounding jzx, not wanting to brush wwx off. Wwx wasn’t asking about romance for himself but about her feelings about it, because he wanted to understand why and how she could continue to like jzx despite his mistreatment of her. Jyl is allowed to brush that off, and wwx is fine with her having done so. On the other hand, wwx can’t share his post-fall traumas with jyl (or anyone else) outside of being upset about the Jiang Clan massacre because anything else would invite her to ask questions that could lead to revealing the golden core exchange. He can’t allow that to happen.

Moving on, wwx isn’t “annoyed” with mianmian for crying. Mianmian isn’t crying over having almost been injured; she’s crying because wwx got injured by taking a hit meant for her. He’s trying to tease her out of her hysteria by purposely misattributing what’s actually upset her, which is that she feels responsible for his injury—an injury that is not her fault and he does not want her to self-blame for.

And finally, to your point about wwx not accepting jc’s apology: a running theme in the novel is debts owed and repaid through verbal and non-verbal acknowledgements. Lwj takes issue with wwx thanking him because he takes it as wwx acknowledging owing him a debt. Wen Qing and Wen Ning have that same idea around thanking and apologizing. The part that’s missing from your guanyin temple scene analysis is right after wwx refuses jc’s apology, the narration says that there has been so many bad events between them that one can’t know who is truly at fault, i.e. who really owes who. Wwx isn’t brushing off jc because he doesn’t care about things that jc did or doesn’t want to revisit his traumas, but because to accept jc’s apology would mean that wwx is accepting a debt from jc, continuing their debtor-debtee relationship when all wwx wants is to finally be free of any and all entanglements with the other man. It would also be shameless behavior completely ooc for wwx.

What’s not ooc for wwx to do is express his hurts and seek comfort. We literally see him do this all the time with lwj and with jyl in some early flashbacks. The few times he holds in his pains are when the situation makes it inappropriate for him to seek attention over them—such as when he brushes off his brand in the cave because he feels like lwj’s broken and chewed on leg is more urgent, the situation with mianmian, or when lwj gets upset at him for taking on jin ling’s curse mark. Of these three examples, in 2 of them, wwx didn’t even remember his injury because he’s been distracted by a more pressing matter. Outside of that, he looks for validation and comfort from those he cares about, and there’s nothing about him being “socialized as a man to not dwell on his emotions” that prevents this. Remembering the good and not dwelling on what others owe you ≠ not dwelling on your emotions wholesale.

Why does fandom act like wei wuxian kept it a secret that he was thrown into the burial mounds? He’s said it twice so far, and both times it’s been to jiang cheng (and once to lan wangji). Is this another frankencanon thing where people just can’t remember what’s been said in which adaptation vs. the novel?