#this can be a turbulent time and that means trying to see exactly what will work for you

[uncanny-tranny]

Advice on dating as an early trasition closeted trans guy (As in, still presenting as a girl)? I feel like I can only do casual stuff and with bi ppl, but it still feels almost unethical lol

I think my advice is to not overthink it. It's fine if you have a preference for bi people, and it's also fine to not date or to date often. It's okay to want casual encounters, where there aren't as many expectations. As long as you and your partner(s) are in on it, then there isn't anything to feel guilty about, really. If you are all in agreement and are comfortable with said agreement, then all I can hope is that you are all happy, honestly.

It's hard enough to be in the closet, let alone dating while closeted, so I can totally understand your point of view. It's hard navigating the dating world when you're trans, believe me, I am aware of that issue. However, it isn't a bad thing, necessarily, to have certain preferences. You might find that as you transition (if you are wanting to do so) that your preferences might change, and that's okay, too. You are going through a process, and that comes with certain things and that is okay. How you feel isn't inherently unethical.

[mintmatcha]

The Inevitable Things: chapter four

aizawa x reader fic

cw: cisfem reader, no quirks, office au, miscommunications, slow burn. full tags available on AO3 (linked in masterlist)

previous chapter | masterlist | next chapter

Five messages. 

Four texts, one video. 

The message preview stares back at you, the LED screen aglimmer in the morning sun, screen bouncing with the tremor of your hand. You're breathing, you're sure of that, but you also think you may have died; no matter how hard you breathe, your chest feels like a popped balloon, deflated and too ripped to hold air. The rush of something whizzing past your ear must be blood, it's too resonant and all encompassing to be anything else--

Five fucking messages. 

You can’t bring yourself to open any of them.

You stand there for longer than you’d like to admit, trying to process exactly what you’re looking at. Maybe it’s a glitch, or a typo, but when you turn your phone off and back on again, the unread messages pop up the same. Five unread messages from Aizawa Shouta. It makes sense logically; Aizawa is right above AVOID AT ALL COST in your contacts, you must have just clicked the incorrect thing in your drunken stupor--

But what doesn’t make sense is the fact that he replied-- and he replied positively. Aizawa Shouta does not respond positively to anything. Not the first cup of coffee in the morning, not his interns, probably not even kittens and rainbows, and yet he messaged you back. I’ve always wanted you. You refuse to reread anything from last night, but that sticks in your head.  

I’ve always wanted you. 

You think about it the entire train ride, nibbling on the edges of your nails to kill the anxious buzz that builds in your jaw. Maybe you should quit. You could change your name and move to some mid-sized city; that’d be easier than the inevitable mess you're headed towards.  Suddenly, you miss yesterday, the yelling, the aggression-- 

It goes back to Touya. You know the question on everyone’s mind when they see you together, when they hear about the fights and the tension and the isolation: why? Why him, why stay, why wait, why, why, why? The answer is as simple as it is stupid: you stay because it's what you know. The turbulence feels like home. 

It's like sea legs. When sailors are on boats for a long time, they stop feeling the rock and roll of each wave. It becomes easy to walk straight, to live life like normal, until they return to shore. There, on level streets, long after the tide has pulled away, is where the waves hit.

You've learned to live in rocky waters- you’ve practically perfected it. Touya is your ship and you know his yaws and keels better than you know stability. 

 This whole situation is the equivalent of stepping ashore and being immediately hit by a semi truck.

The train pulls into your station and you debate staying on for a moment too long. I’ve always wanted you. That sentence makes your stomach turn. What does that mean? Is it solely physical? Is it more?

No, it can’t be. This man hates your guts; there’s no feelings between you other than mild, stupid lust.

Which makes you debate your own feelings. He's certainly… well, he’s not ugly. You’d even say, maybe, perhaps, in the right angles, he’s attractive, especially with this thick thighs and thicker cock-

The train doors almost close before you can scuttle out. Focus, girl, focus. Fighting through your surprisingly aching body and returning headache, you briskly walk the rest of the way to work, trying to think about anything other than the shitshow you’re about to walk into.

Prome is a half mile walk from the station, with only one tiny dash across a busy road. It’s not ideal, but it’s the only option you have right now. The interns have started a carpool, but you’re too old to be riding with them. Besides, Bakugo Katsuki’s car is nice. It’s embarrassing the have worse things than a college student-

  A familiar dented, red car squeaks to a halt inches from your ass, so close that you can feel the wind displaced. The squeal of tires steals your breath away and your body clenches in fear, so hard that your muscles scream. You jump and start blabbering in surprise, shouting out unearned apologies as you skitter back. It takes a second to gather yourself, but, when you do, you see a boy jut his head out of the window, all toothy smiles and bleach blonde hair.

“Hey!” he shouts. “If it isn’t my hero!”

“Denki?”

Kaminari Denki waves to you, sunshine personified behind the wheel of a truck without a bumper.

“Hold on, lemme park!”

The red monstrosity barely fits in a space. In its prime, it was probably a pretty car, but being owned by Denki clearly took a toll. The inside is littered with empty energy drink cans, clinking and sloshing as he throws the car into park and launches himself out. There's a reason he's not a part of the group's carpool.

“I could fucking kiss you right now!” He envelopes you in open arms, manhandling you side to side over and over in an overly friendly display. 

“Oh, please don't-- Denki!” 

He smashes his face into your cheek with a chaste, yet somehow wet smooch. When you try to squirm away, he doubles down; his lips actually make contact with yours, just for a moment, awful and impossibly damp. 

“Ew, gross! Get off!” You pry him off and wipe the slime off of your lips with the back of your hand. “Don’t do that!”

“Sorry, my bad, I’m just--” he laughs,  “Izuku told me you saved my ass!”

   You don’t mention the fact you’re the reason he was in trouble in the first place because you're too busy processing this information.

“Aizawa rehired you?”

“He called me yesterday and apologized, which was, holy shit, it was insane,” Denki says, with a wave of his hands, like it isn’t a shocking turn of events. “What did you do?”

“Nothing, I just, uh--” You grimace at the thought. “I talked to Toshinori. And cried a little.”

In retrospect, it does seem like overkill, but it worked.

“Do that more often!” He goes in for another hug and you reluctantly let him. He smells like axe body spray and cheap deodorant. God, he’s so young-- even the accidental kiss feels dirty. You have to remind yourself that he’s early twenties, really only a couple years younger than you-- wait, no. You’re thirty.  “I owe you my life! And my diploma!”

You still can't believe it. Aizawa, hard ass Aizawa, changed his mind? That couldn't be because of you. He's made people cry before, why would you be different-?

Oh. I've always wanted you.

That thought hits you like a punch to the gut.

Maybe it isn't just physical.

You have to shake your head to clear away that thought. You brush your clothes off and adjust yourself. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”  

“I’ll buy you a coffee.” He coos as you walk in. The security guard gives you both a curious look, eyebrows wiggling conspiratorially. You just ignore that and focus on getting to your desk. It's almost nine; you're both late.  “And anything you want-- alcohol, weed-”

“-We drug test here?”

“We do?” Denki gapes. “Fuck, good to know.”

Maybe saving him wasn’t a good career move.  You make it to your desk and drop your stuff on the group. Denki has been following you like a puppy, nipping at your heels the whole way.

“Just… please don’t get fired again." You jerk a head towards his department. "Go do your work."

“Absolutely!” He prances down the hall, wrinkled tie flapping in his wake.  “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

You can’t believe he’s here. Truly. All of that worry and stress yesterday feels worth it as you settle into your desk. You clack a couple of keys to wake up your screen-- but there’s no response. After a moment, you try again, then again. A wiggle of the mouse does the trick, but the keyboard still doesn’t wake up when you try to type in your password. 

Crap. You split that coffee yesterday. The circuit or whatever must be fried. Great. Today is going to be pretty unproductive if you don’t solve this issue.

Engineering probably has a couple of extras, but you aren’t sure you’re ready to walk straight into the lion’s den, especially now that you aren’t sure how you feel about it all. The fact he rehired Denki does make you feel a bit better; maybe Hizashi and Nemuri were right and he’s actually a good guy. And, you can’t deny that you’re a tiny bit attracted to him now that you’ve seen… everything. 

Ugh, you need to make up your fucking mind and decide how you feel about all of this--

At that moment, Aizawa Shouta stomps down the hall, expression as flat and hard as ever. He looks the same as he always does, stupid yellow sweatshirt, messy black hair, under eye circles deep enough to worry about, but your chest hiccups at the sight. You don���t have a plan for this, no prepared speech or anything. For a moment, you wonder if he’s coming to kiss you or ravage you, like in one of those romance novels that are popular online-

And then he passes you and heads straight for the coffee machine. Relief washes over you, then confusion.  Not even a hint of attention thrown your way. That’s fairly strange-- you usually get at least a nod or a lukewarm greeting. You push off of your chair and join  him the the station.

“Hey, um-” Your idle hands dig into the sugar packets, jostling them side to side. The pitch of the coffee hitting the inside of his mug changes as he pours, pitch creeping higher and higher.  His jawline is dusted with a five o’clock shadow, flickers of salt and pepper across his skin and down to the curve of his adam’s apple. You said something about shaving last night, you think. You wonder if he listened or if this is how it’s always been-

“Do you need something?”  He interrupts your thoughts, not even looking away from the station.

“I-” What do you need? Confirmation? Reassurance? An explanation? “Uh-”

You suck in a breath and steel yourself, legs shoulder width again from that extra boost of stability. Your voice comes out as a whisper, much shakier than it should be.  I've always wanted you. You don't feel the same, but maybe, just maybe, you could learn to.

“Yesterday-- or, uh, last night- I just want to--”

“Let’s save each other the embarrassment and forget everything that happened yesterday.” The coffee pot clinks back into place, only the legs of droplets left to cling to the glass. “We’re out, by the way.”

And with that, he’s gone.

And a second truck has sideswiped you.

[cafeleningrad]

Ohtori is such a disorienting place. It's so emblematic that none of the actual needs of the people in it are met. In fact it gives answers but none actually are satisfying for anyone yet the answers are presented as only alternative. ("You have to revolutionize the world (by participating in the duels that ensure the world continues to run on the same old dynamic.)"

What system Ohtori, Akio by proxy, proposes is the idea of power over another. It's very gendered power as we learn later. Women's power exists either as extension's of a man (Nanami's high social status by virtue of being Touga's little sister), be inspired to have power by extension of a man (Wakaba), surrendering to a man (Kozue), or can be easily taken away power if a man decides that the woman had enough power (Juri,Utena). In the instance a woman has power it's also used to dominate others just like men do. (Nanami being cruel to others, to Tsuwabuki in particular, Utena treating Anthy her a puzzle piece to her princely identity.) In the end there is an idea how someone who should hold all the power should be like (the Prince), and they're given free reign. However that's not what the characters need.

Touga is entirely helpless to his paternal CSA. Akio's proposition is to become, for once, the one in charge of others so none can exploit him again. And Touga fails to see how Akio still exploits him by directing Touga, with quiet implicit imagery stressing that dynamic. What Touga would have needed was protection and a trusting family.

Nanami grew up so isolated and shamed for diverging from the norm, she is entirely dependent on external subjects and objects to define her. Either it's being defined by her relationship to Touga which is the entire basis of her social status, and her only hope for affection. Nanami can only define herself by traditional feminine and classicist means like her perceived ideal femininity, and brand-name jewelry which can easily turn on her, if external voices tell her that she should wear something. Nanami is so desperate for affection, being cared and loved for but the only language she is given is Ohtori's language of "men and women are only corresponding romantically". She can't express her need for familial proximity to Touga. The only other form of gaining adoration she knows is by violence, be it Touga's kitten, Tsuwabuki, or beating her three nameless underlings into submission.

It's not until the third arc that we learn about the Kaoru twins are in the middle of their parents separating. Their childhood is getting disrupted. Both of them are longing for time of connection and chance to hold onto each other. But Ohtori tells them that Miki can only adore Kozue as innocent and helpless. Kozue, like Nanami, gets told that her only chance to express affection to her male twin is by a sexualized, romanticized interaction. For two characters who're living through turbulent times, and need some stability in the other, twisting their chance of proximity is exactly the wrong answer.

Saionji really wants to remain friends with Touga he admires so much. (If not being in love with him.) Even more than Juri, he knows that the duel platform is just a set up, he swallows Touga's poison of "true friendship doesn't exist" again and again. The only chance of proximity to Touga is to disrespect others, demonstrate superiority over them, especially Anthy, as best proxy to a close male-male-dynamic. Saionji's only given path is to delude himself further and further.

Juri pushes so many people away because she's afraid her homosexuality will be revealed. Ohtori as a place does punish homosexuality severely, see Mikage's twisted memory, Ruka trying to converse Juri. This place convinces Juri over and over again that she's wrong for loving Shiori. But the truth is, Shiori is so much in love with Juri that she will resort to abuse her emotional power as long as it serves the purpose of Juri remaining close to her. What they would have needed is the chance to know that actually they're safe to be honest, at least to each other.

Utena is deeply grief-stricken by her parent's death. As a child the idea that everything will fade is terrifying. The only alternative she is shown is that Anthy's suffering is eternal. She wants to help. But the only path for being admired and adored is becoming a prince. The only agency to help and save others is by exercising the prince's power over someone. Akio becomes even crueler by trying to convince Utena that a girl's actual aspiration is romance (with a man). What else should she want? It also distract her from her genuine compassion for Anthy, and wishing for Anthy's happiness.

[wardenparker]

In the Still of the Night, ch 5

Zach Wellison x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Grown up and looking to the future, Zach Wellison and bunkmate Shane Morrissey are working for a new cruise line that offers its guests a vintage Vegas experience on the Mediterranean. The romantic atmosphere is rubbing off on many of the crew members, and Zach finds himself to be no exception when he meets the beautiful lead singer of Shane's band.

But being wrapped in the seductive arms of an atmospheric cruise is a far cry from real life. How will their relationship fare on dry land? They can't know unless they try.

Rating: E for Explicit 18+ Word Count: 5.7k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this story include: Cursing, alcohol, food, cooking, eating, discussion of clothing/costumes. Mentions of prison time served, mentions of past homelessness.* Somnophilia (consensual), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, morning sex, discussion of sex. Summary: A few weeks into your relationship with your soulmate, new steps lie ahead. Notes: These babies make me so stinkin' happy.

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4

It takes no more than a week for you to really understand how bad you have it for Zach. The butterflies of this new relationship have only intensified, and every night you snuggle deep into his arms wondering honey how you could have gotten so lucky that have a soulmate this wonderful.

There’s a profound sense of peace that has come with discovering you are his soulmate. A soothing of his soul that he never realized was as turbulent as he now knows. Even as hard as you both work, as tired as he might be, nothing is as relaxing to him as having you curl onto his chest in the tiny, single person bed you manage to share while his fingers brush up and down the smooth curve of your spine. “You sounded good tonight.” He praises, “but that’s every night. The crowd was eating it up.”

“Love songs are a lot easier these days,” you admit, pressing a soft kiss to his chest. “Seems obvious, I guess, but it’s true.”

“Miguel told me that the next cruise is already booking up for dinner every night.” He huffs. “Reviews are through the roof.”

“That’s because your food is fucking amazing,” you remind him, humming softly as his fingers graze up and down your spine.

“Most of the reviews have focused on the vibe of the club.” He gives you your dues. “And that’s all because of you, baby.”

“Neither of us can take a compliment.” It’s something you definitely have in common since you’ve noticed it plenty since you started dating and discovered your soulmate status. “But we love to give them.”

“It’s hard to accept that there might be some redeeming qualities in me.” Zach admits quietly. “But I refuse to see anything negative about you. It simply doesn’t exist.”

Leaning up on your elbow, you drop a kiss on his lips and sigh. “Ditto.”

He smiles softly at you, wearing his heart in his eyes but he doesn’t care. You seem to feel the exactly same way by some miracle. He reaches up and caresses your cheek and down your neck. “I got so fucking lucky with you.”

Turning your head to press a kiss to the inside of his wrist is easy, and you smile against his skin before lying back down on his chest. “You’re amazing. I just want to help you see that.”

“God, I could never imagine being here a few years ago.” The sounds of the engine room are muffled but almost melodic when combined with the sound of the water against the outer hull. The rooms for the crew are below the waterline, but Zach doesn’t mind that. There are worse places to sleep.

“Can I ask…?” Zach always says you can ask him anything but this is sensitive. When he nods you bite your lip and continue carefully. “What happened? With discharge and everything, I mean?”

He knows you deserve to know. “Nothing bad.” He promises, twisting his head and looking up at the ceiling as he tries to figure out what to say. “I wasn’t kicked out or threatened with the brig.” He sighs softly. “I went over to Iraq with my unit. My friends, my brothers.” His voice gets softer. “I was the only one in my squad that came home alive.”

“Shit.” You squeeze him gently, your arm around his waist holding onto him like an anchor and a promise. “I’m so sorry. I—I can’t imagine how hard that must have been for you.”

“I felt guilty- I still feel guilty.” He admits, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m not special, why did I live and they didn’t?” He’s not looking for an answer, because there isn’t one. “Rodriguez was married to his soulmate. Had a fucking baby on the way.” He closes his eyes. “Fucking IED made sure he never met his little girl.”

“There’s no good answer to why some people come home and others don’t.” It doesn’t help anyone to pretend to have a great insight here. You asked for Zach’s story, and you’ll support him through it. Just keeping it simple. “I can only say that I’m grateful you came home.”

“The worst part?” He closes his eyes. “All of their wives knew. Down the fucking second, when their soulmates died.” He huffs. “Didn’t need the knock at the door to know their worlds were shattered.”

“They knew the risks,” You remind him gently. “That doesn’t make it better, I know.”

“Not a fuckin’ bit.” His tone is ironic. “I blamed myself. How could I not? Everyone asking me to tell them about that last day, those last minutes before the world went to shit and we—” he swallows harshly. “I felt like they blamed me. Hell, I blame me.” He admits. “If I had seen something, maybe they would still be here.”

“I’m sure that if there had been a sign to see, you would have.” Unable to undo what was done that day, the best you can do right now is to reassure him. Remind him that it isn’t his fault, because you’re absolutely certain it wasn’t.

“I still felt guilty, couldn’t look them in the face.” He knows a lot of it was projection, but he couldn’t help but feel like they hated him for living. “Stopped visiting, talking to my buddies that were left.”

"It's whole new world out there, baby." You promise him, the tone of the night reduced to quiet murmurs between you. "You don't have to walk through any of this alone anymore. The memories or the hard times, I mean."

“I don’t think I would have been a good soulmate back then.” He loves touching you, finding comfort in it as he strokes your skin. “After the grief came the anger. I was angry. Angry I lived, angry that I felt abandoned, even though I was the one pushing people away.”

"Maybe there's a reason we haven't met until now?" It's the most encouraging thought you can give him in this moment and you hope it helps. "Maybe this is the right time and the right place for us."

“On a cruise ship in one of the most gorgeous locations in the world?” He smiles. “Seems like a dream to me.”

“You think the Powers That Be just wanted it to be romantic for us?” You smile a little at the sweet idea. “I like that.”

“I think you deserve romance.” He chuckles quietly. “And I’m not the most naturally romantic kind of guy.” He shrugs one shoulder. “Need all the help I can get.”

“I don’t think that’s true at all.” With one hand you brush his growing hair out of his eyes and smile. “You’re more romantic than you think you are.”

He’s pleased by that answer. “Yeah?” He hasn’t done much, but if you think that he’s romantic, then he must be doing something right.

“Wasn’t it your idea to sit and watch sunrise yesterday morning because we both had to be up early and you wanted to start the day in a way that didn’t feel frantic?” When he had said it at first you thought he was joking, but no — you had really gotten out of bed together early yesterday morning to slip off to his favorite hiding space and watch the sun rise over the Mediterranean Sea together. It was incredible, so perfect that you had almost teared up.

“It was.” He admits, happy you had thought that was romantic. He has simply wanted a peaceful moment with you and it was his favorite way to spend the sunrise.

“Well, it was pretty damn romantic,” you tell him with absolute certainty.

“As long as you think so.” He leans up and kisses you. “That’s all that matters to me.”

“I absolutely do.” And steal another kiss before he can lay his head down again.

He's calm with you, peaceful. That part of him that thinks the worst or sometimes drowns out the positive is quiet. Filled with you. He’s slept better in the weeks that you’ve been wrapped up in his arms than he ever had before. “What’s your schedule tomorrow?” He asks. “Bingo again?”

"Actually?" You grin at him lazily. "The cabaret cast is doing bingo tomorrow. I have the afternoon off. What time do you have to be at the club?"

“Weeeeelllllllll.” He grins. “I’m planning on getting off the ship to go to the local markets.” He tells you. “Want to be my helper?” He is allowed to go to the local markets to pick out fresh ingredients whenever he feels it’s necessary and he wants to get some fresh caught fish.

"Ooo, a shopping date?" The grin on your face spreads wider. Learning about Zach's work has shown you how deep his passion for cooking really goes. The fact that he sort of fell into a culinary career and has ended up loving it is so wonderful to see. He really lights up talking about work. "Absolutely!"

“Good.” He chuckles. “We can sleep in since the market won’t be open first thing.”

"What a treat." You laugh quietly, wrapping your arm around his waist again to get comfortable. "That means I'll have time to wake you up creatively."

“And how do you want to do that?” Your sex life is amazing and he is blown away that someone as sexy and incredible as you wants him.

"Where's the fun in telling you now?" Teasing always comes with a raised eyebrow, and in the shine of the nighttime through the windows you grin at him all over again. "It'll be whatever I dream up. A surprise for both of us." The conversation about consent had happened early on, with both of you agreeing that being woken up for sex was high up on your list of pleasurable experiences.

“Now I’m ready to go to sleep so I can wake up.” He jokes with a snort.

"Let's do that, then." Anytime you can make him smile it counts as a victory in your book, and you press a kiss to your tattoo over his heart. "So we can both have excellent dreams and an even better morning."

Zach smiles softly. “Goodnight baby.”

“Goodnight, baby.” Your mind is already half drifting off, sleep taking over, and you lay your head down with a contented sigh. “Love you.”

Zach’s eyes pop open, heart pounding as he absorbs what you just said and the weight of it settled down over him like the warmest blanket. He tightens his hold on you and sighs softly. You’ve already drifted off to sleep so he’s just talking to himself right now. “I love you more.”

******

Morning comes too soon for all the wonderful dreams you’ve been having lately, but the trade off is that you get to wake up in Zach’s arms. It’s a more than fair trade, in your opinion.

He’s still sleeping when you open your eyes, snoring softly with the blankets mostly kicked off because he gets warm in his sleep. It does, though, give you a gorgeous view of that reliable morning wood he sports every day without fail, and you hum to yourself.

He’s already on his back, so why not climb on top?

Zach hums in his sleep, shifting slightly when you move. Used to the occasional times when you get up during the night to pee or grab the water bottle he keeps on the desk. So he doesn’t wake up just yet.

It doesn’t hurt the situation that you have consistent dirty dreams about Zach. It means that you wake up just as ready as he does, so that when you carefully sit up in bed to straddle his hips and sink down on his length, you’re drenched and wet with wanting him before you even sit up in bed.

The second you clench around him, Zach wakes up. His eyes aren’t even open but he knows what you’ve done. Moaning your name, he reaches for your hips with a sleepy smile as he finally looks up at you. “Good morning to me.” He rasps out.

"Good morning, gorgeous." It's easy enough to bend over and kiss him, keeping the motions of your hips fluid and intimate as you move on him in the morning light.

“Jesus.” His breathless curse is against your lips and he twitches inside you. “Can you wake me up like this every morning?”

"Maybe." You laugh against his lips, the sound only barely less raspy than his voice as he groans. "Only on mornings I don't use my mouth."

“But then maybe I wake you up using my mouth.” He poses. “Make it even.” He’s woke you up with his fingers and his cock, but not his tongue so far.

"Anytime, baby." Zach is an enthusiastic pussy eater, and that is never an offer that you're going to turn down.

“I want to- fuck—” you grind your hips down and squeeze his cock tight inside your molten walls, making him lose his train of thought. He groans and then tries again. “One night- that dress.” He manages. “In the club. Eat you out on stage.”

"Fuck." You almost lose your rhythm with that image presented to you, and your hips stutter at the thought. "The red one?" You know exactly which dress he's talking about. You have a dark red satin gown with a high slit up one thigh and a low neckline. The band always gets the best tips with that dress.

“Yessssssss.” He twitches again, his eyes darkening with lust at the thought of you in that dress. He’s imagined it many times but he’s just now gotten the courage to say something about what he wants. “Imagined laying you out on the stage.”

"I'll rip out the fuckin security cameras," you promise him, shivering with the fantasy. His hands have found your hips and are keeping your rhythm steady, but you swear you want to suggest throwing on robes and running to the club right now to play out the scene.

“You would be so loud in there.” He teases with a grin. “But it would be worth it. My baby is gorgeous when she’s cumming.”

As if to prove his point, the moan you let out when he snaps his hips up is deep and vibrates through the both of you with surety. "Then—fuck— make me cum, baby."

Zach plants his feet in the bed and holds tight to your hips. Rocking his hips up in desperation, wanting to hear your cries and feel you clench down around him. “Tell me how good it feels.” He grunts.

Your babbling brook of words runs over, always ready to praise and encourage him. Always ready to curse and moan and cry his name out into the day or night. With him you somehow always feel fuller than ever before, and you will happily tell him every time how good he feels inside you. How he feels like he was made just for you.

Zach loves praise, but there is something so satisfying about the panted, breathless praises you give him while he’s deep inside you. As if you can’t get enough of him. Mirroring that same needy mess he always finds himself twisting into for you.

Mornings spent like this always send you both into a sort of trance. Dissolving into such adoration for each other that it's useless to think of anything else. There is an extra layer to it this morning, for you at least, with words you dreamt of the night before still swimming in your mind. This isn't the right time to tell him you've fallen in love with him — not while he's literally inside you with both of you on the verge of cumming. But you'll be damned if your heart isn't pounding in your throat as you think it as loud as you can.

Reaching up, Zach cups the back of your neck and drags your head down to plaster his lips against yours. The knowledge of your sleepy confession has him even more sure of himself and he groans into your mouth.

It sears both of you for the same reason though neither of you is aware of it, snapping more connections into place and tangling you together even further.

His arms band around you, rocking up into your body as he pushes you both towards the edge of bliss. He moans softly when you grind down on him as he thrusts up. “Cum for me.” He begs.

It barely takes more coaxing than that. It barely takes more than those deep, long kisses and the way you desperately grind into each other for you to unravel for him. You cum with a shaking, gasping cry and smother the sound into the crook of his shoulder so his neighbors won't complain about the noise.

“That’s it baby, fuck, that’s it.” Zach groans softly, overwhelmed by how perfect you feel. Rocking up into you to work you through your orgasm and work himself towards his own.

“Cum for me, gorgeous.” It’s his turn to have encouragement, even as you feel nearly limp against his. “Feels so good when you fill me up.”

“Fuck baby.” He whines your name and his fingers dig into your flesh. “You can’t— you can’t say shit like that and expect me to last.”

A deep, throaty giggle bubbles out of you and you nip at Zach's neck under his ear where he likes it most. "Don't want you to last," you coo in his ear. "I want you to cum."

It’s not hard to give in, not when you are practically begging for him to. He twitches deep inside you and feels his belly start to pull taunt. “Fuck— I—fuuuuuuuuck.”

You talk him through it, murmuring honeyed words in his ear and letting your fingers trail up and down his back as he slowly floats back down to earth. It's practically a bragging right that you can feel the warm, sticky combination of the two of you dripping from your pussy.

"Shit." You sigh happily. "You're amazing."

“That’s you, baby.” He buries his face into the crook of your neck and breathes in the scent of you. Warm sleep, sex and your unique scent is probably his favorite scent in the world. He would bottle it up if he could. “I’m so goddamn lucky you love me. Don’t know how the fuck I got so lucky.” He mumbles into your skin.

"How...?" Impulsively, you almost draw away from him. Just to look into his eyes. But you exhale shakily instead — laughing at yourself. "Am I that transparent?"

“No.” Zach frowns slightly, wishing he hadn’t said anything. “You said- right before you went to sleep last night.”

"I said that out loud?" There is a thread of embarrassment in your voice, very thin but it's there. Instead of shame, though, you are all laughter. "I only meant to think it very loudly. But I guess..." You turn your head to kiss his cheek. "I can't be upset about it when it's the truth."

“I love you too.” He promises softly. “More than anything else in the world, I love you.”

"I love you so much." It feels like a star bursting in your chest to be able to say it, though you did not even realize you had been holding it back.

It makes him sigh, a soft, dreamy sound as he feels like he could float up and away into the clouds. The smile he gives you when he pulls back is positively beaming.

"Two weeks." You laugh softly, feeling giddy as you return his bright smile. "I can't believe that's all it has been."

“The best two weeks of my life.” He agrees.

"It feels like forever and no time at all." Something which continues to mystify you every single day.

“I never understood that when someone else said it.” He admits, chuckling at his own inexperience with soulmates. “But I do now.”

“It’s weird,” you admit, snuggling into him. “But I love it.”

“Yeah.” He chuckles softly. “How do you—” he hesitates, knowing that it might be a little too soon. It’s only been two weeks after all.

You raise your head to look at him “How do I?”

He bites his lip. “It’s too soon and if you tell me it’s too soon I completely understand.” He promises before he takes a deep breath. You arch a brow at him in confusion and he blows it out. “Howdoyoufeelaboutpossiblytalkingtothequartermasteraboutgettingasoulmatecabin?” He rushes out in a quick hodgepodge of words, stringing them together nearly incoherently.

“Absolutely.” There is nothing there for you to think about. No wiggling of pros and cons. No debate. Only the way your heart pounds and your cheeks burn thinking of getting to be with him all the time. “Yes. One hundred percent.”

He had been expecting you to baulk. To have some – valid – reasoning on why you should wait, so his expression is completely astonished when you spit out your answer so quickly. “Yes?”

“Yes.” You stretch to kiss him, lingering in that moment and breathing him in. Your soulmate.

He grins again, like a kid who’s woken up Christmas morning to find everything on his Christmas list under the tree. “Yes.” He nods. “We can— I’ll talk to him today.” He promises. “So he might come talk to you.”

“The only thing he’s gonna hear from me is how much I want to live with my soulmate.” The two of you sit up together, tangled in blankets and grinning like idiots. “Shane can stop bitching about us kicking him out.”

“Yeah.” He chuckles. “Diana is getting a little antsy to talk to him alone.” He admits. “I would normally go to my spot for a few hours to give them some privacy. Or just go to sleep.”

“This is payback for all the times I’ve left the apartment to give them privacy,” you assure Zach, not worried all that much. “They’re great roommates but our place is tiny and they’re loud.”

“So you figure it’s our turn?” He hums, slightly amused by the idea.

“Oh, absolutely.” Even in the midst of giggling, you can’t stop kissing him. Zach is completely addictive in his own unique way. “No question.”

“If we don’t like it, we can always change it up.” He reminds you softly. “Just because we are soulmates doesn’t mean you will like living with me.”

“The same goes for you.” Although you don’t think it will turn out that way, it’s good to try to be realistic. “If I have some habit you can’t stand living with then we need to talk about it. Okay?”

“What? You are as perfect as you appear and small woodland creatures come and clean the house everyday while you sing to them?” Zach snorts. “I’ll be fine.”

“Oh yeah,” you roll your eyes at him and pretend to huff but end up laughing. “The woodland creatures love commuting to a cruise ship.”

“Seagulls and rats?” Zach jokes, shrugging one shoulder. “I guess we can’t be picky out here. But I draw the line at an octopus making the bed.”

“The octopus will be very disappointed to hear it, but I’ll let them know.” This lightness he has, the levity to balance his more serious moments, is so welcome. It’s such a comfort. “I really do love you,” you murmur, almost sighing. “So much.”

“Still don’t know why.” He huffs softly. “But I’m not going to look a gift horse in the mouth.”

“You definitely shouldn’t.” A smirk splits your face, and you turn to get out of bed. “Especially since I’m about to suggest we shower together.”

“God, is it bad that I hope that the soulmate suites have a bigger shower?” He groans, although he’s already nodding.

“They might.” You waggle your eyebrows at him. “I heard some guys on the last cruise pretended to be soulmates to get one.”

“Now that’s a little fucked up.” Zach snorts, although he’s not exactly opposed to it. You do what you have to do sometimes.

“That’s how nice they’re supposed to be.” The shower in the room he currently shares with Shane is barely big enough, but it’ll do. At least for now.

“Then we will definitely have to talk to the quartermaster.” He hums as he follows you out of the bed. Is it fair that soulmates have better accommodations? No, but nowhere in life is completely fair.

******

It’s after you get back from the fish market that the quartermaster comes to find you. You’re on your way to the club to warm up when you’re stopped in the hall but a man you’ve only met once or perhaps twice before, but his uniform is enough for you to be sure of who he is.

“Good afternoon.” He smiles slightly as he glances down at his clipboard before he says your name. “Do you have a moment to discuss your quarters?”

“Of course.” It takes a slight gathering of your skirt — you wore the red dress that Zach fantasizes about tonight and it has a small train — but you pop down from the stage and other the man a seat at the nearest table.

“Zach Wellison has requested soulmate quarters with you.” He starts off, looking up to gauge your reaction. “Does that sound right?”

“Yes.” The sleeveless dress with its low neck shows off both your tattoo and Zach’s neatly, so you don’t have to worry about revealing proof or anything like that. “We discussed it very recently and he volunteered to be the one to put in the formal request.”

“I see.” He glances at the tattoos and looks down at his notes, finding that they match the description of the ones he had been shown by the chef. “Well, I see no reason to deny the request, unless you have no wish to cohabitate?” He lifts as brow as he looks up at you. “Forgive me, but I like to make sure that no one feels pressured to share a cabin with their soulmate.” He explains kindly.

“Of course, and it’s reassuring to know that you’re looking after your staff so well.” Not everyone gets as lucky as you and Zach have, even if they do find their soulmate. You know that. “But I do very much want to live with him.”

“Of course.” He gives you a soft smile. “Congratulations on finding each other.” He offers before he signs off on the paper and stands. “You will have a cabin assigned in the next two days.” He explains.

“Thank you very much for your time.” The door of the club opens again as you stand to shake the quartermaster’s hand, and the rest of the band pours in. Shane raises a knowing eyebrow at you, but Keo, Rick, and Cliff all look suitably confused.

“Something wrong?” Keo asks, turning towards the quartermaster as he walks out of the club.

“Not at all.” As short as the conversation was, you still feel like you need to stretch. “Just working something out with the quartermaster.”

Shane smirks. “Awesome.” He hums, aware of what that might be and the fact that he doesn’t have to find other places to crash every other day. He likes your roommate, but he felt it would disrespectful to Diana to share a room with her.

“It should make things a little less complicated.” It hasn’t exactly made your relationship with River an easier these last two weeks, but she has been great about understanding how important the beginning of your relationship with your soulmate is. This will take the strain off of things and let your friendship with her be easy again.

“I don’t understand.” Rick huffs, not exactly the most observant of the group.

You laugh, clapping your bandmate on the shoulder. “I’m shacking up with my soulmate, Rick. It’s all good.”

“Really?” His eyes widen and he grins happily, knowing how much you deserve to be in love and thrilled for you. “That’s great! When’s the wedding?”

"One thing at a time. We're moving in together plenty fast, no need to race to anything else." Is it maybe starting to be a fantasy that leaks into your dreams from time to time? Maybe. But that's why it's so important to have living together be the next step.

He chuckles softly, as if he’s not convinced and shrugs. “I’m still surprised that Shane and Diana haven’t tied the knot yet.” He admits and absorbs the halfhearted shove from his bandmate. “She wanted to get through her residency.” Shane huffs, although it’s more that he wants to be able to significantly contribute more than her wanting to get through the toughest time of becoming a doctor.

Keo smirks, putting on an over-the-top, dreamy voice. “It’ll be a winter double wedding. With the Rockefeller Christmas tree in the background.”

“It might be.” Shane huffs, secretly pleased with the idea of a gorgeous winter wedding to his soulmate. Bright lights and white snow, such a difference from his goth phase. “White tuxes with greenery for the lapels.”

“You gonna make us wear tuxes?” Cliff complains but the underlying grin in his voice says he’ll do it wear whatever Shane wants.

“Hell yeah.” Shane snorts, rolling his eyes. “And put your hair up in a ponytail.”

“We’re gonna make you brush it,” you tease, knowing Cliff will hate that.

“I don’t need to do a thing to my hair.” He shakes his mane out as if to prove it.

“You need to use conditioner.” Keo points out, rubbing his fingers through his own soft hair. “Anyway, it’s all moot. Our job is to do what the brides tell us, right?”

“It would be his wedding too.” Cliff scoffs. “Not just Diana’s.” He looks over at you. “Or yours.”

“I never said a word about me getting married,” you remind them. Both of your hands are held up in innocence. “Not seriously.”

“Oh please.” All of the guys scoff. “We all know you secretly dream about the white picket fence, two point five kids and a dog running around the yard.” Rick teases.

“Two point five is a weird number of kids and it sounds traumatic, so I’ll stick to just one or two.” It isn’t a secret that you want a family. A loving partner and kids and a home to call your own. You don’t disguise the fact that you want it. It’s just never really been a possibility with any of the people before Zach. And nods that you have someone you can see it with? Yeah. You’re absolutely dreaming about it.

“Three.” Keo predicts with a grin. “I can see you wanting to be outnumbered.”

“Three is…” You sigh softly, realizing you must look ridiculously dreamy and besotted. “It’s a lot. But I don’t think I would mind.”

“See? I told you.” He chortles and reaches out to bump your shoulder playfully. He is happy for you and it’s amazing to see you dream about more than your career.

“Shut up.” Even though you huff at him, you bump his shoulder back and grin. “I’m as surprised to see me this happy as the rest of you, for the record.”

“You kind of deserve it.” Cliff jokes. “Just a little.”

“Only a little.” Rick agrees, smirking when you laugh and huff at them both.

The group laughs and Shane shakes his head. “Okay, okay, we have more pressing issues to worry about than this.” He reminds you all. “What are we playing tonight?”

“What are you in the mood for?” Keo asks, sitting down at his drum kit.

“I’m not sure.” Shane always defers to you for the set considering you are the one who knows what your voice can handle. “What were you thinking?”

“Tribute nights always go over well. A Night with the Rat Pack or even Elvis. That First Ladies of Jazz theme we did a few weeks ago went over well, too.” There have even been adventurous nights where you do full scores from some musicals. Those are best with specific crowds, though.

“Well, you let me know what you want to sing.” Your library of musical talent is vast and he loves pushing the band to match it.

When the other guys all seem to feel the same way, you suggest a Rat Pack themed night and start warming up. Zach likes Dean Martin a lot and you won’t pass up the chance to sing for him.

“Okay.” Shane starts to shuffle through the sheet music and put it in order. He knows that the music is loaded onto the iPad that is on the stand, but he prefers to also have paper copies. “Sounds like we have about fifty minutes of performance here.” He announces. “Any other songs or you want to wing it and entertain them?”

“How do you feel about a piano and vocal moment?” You look around at the guys curiously. “Moon River or In the Still of the Night? Something gentle and sweet.”

He chuckles softly. “You are so sentimental now.” He teases playfully. “That sounds good to me, you decide.”

“We’ll see what we’re feeling? About halfway through the set.” You nudge him though, and don’t even feel bad for a Moment. “You can’t tell me the introspective love songs don’t have you missing Diana.”

“Every damn night.” He admits shamelessly.

“Then you tell me.” The two of you share a small smile of mutual understanding. You understand Shane a whole hell of a lot better since you have your own soulmate in your life. “Whichever song makes you think of Diana more is what we’ll do.”

“In the Still of the Night.” He smiles as he tells you, “that’s the song we should play.”

“Absolutely.” It is the right choice, and you can feel it too. Because Moon River is a dream. A sweet one. But In the Still of the Night is a singer who can’t get their mind off of loving someone — not at all. And you have never understood that more in your life.

------ Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

ItSotN: @greenwitchfromthewoods @copperhalfcent @ariavitiellos @spishsstuff @76bookworm76

[the-meat-machine]

dirkuu is pale

I see a lot of people assuming that Dirk/Caliborn is blackrom. In fact, I used to think so too. But the more I've thought about these two, the more I've come to realize that there's a different quadrant that describes their relationship much, much better: moirallegiance.

I want to preface this by saying that neither of these characters are trolls, so one can't expect their feelings to map 1:1 onto troll quadrants. But if you are looking for a quadrant to characterize their relationship, I think that pale romance is a much closer analogue for what's going on here than troll kismesissitude -- and certainly far more on the mark than cherub kismesissitude, which is a whole other can of worms.

So let's start with that. Caliborn is from a species that "naturally" experiences blackrom, so why don't I think cherub-style blackrom is what's going on here?

Cherub vs. troll kismesissitude

We get a fair amount of information about troll blackrom throughout Homestuck, but one thing I want to highlight about it is that it's not just pure, vitriolic hatred. There's a core of respect there, of wanting your kismesis to be better than they are. Karkat explains it well when talking to John about his black crush on Terezi (emphasis mine):

JOHN: i'm just saying i find her, like, somewhat annoying, and REALLY aggravating a lot of the time, but that's it! KARKAT: BUT THAT'S EXACTLY WHAT THE FEELING IS! KARKAT: IT DOESN'T START OUT AS FULL BLOWN ANTIPATHY, AND IT RARELY EVEN REACHES SUCH AN EXTREME LEVEL OF HOSTILITY EVEN OVER LONG TERM BLACK RELATIONSHIPS. […] KARKAT: WHAT YOU'RE *TRYING* TO SAY IS, YOU HAD FRUSTRATED, NEGATIVE EMOTIONS TOWARD HER, BUT THEY DON'T COMPREHENSIVELY ACCOUNT FOR YOUR ATTITUDE TOWARD HER. KARKAT: MEANING, THERE ARE SOME THINGS ABOUT HER YOU ACTUALLY LIKE, BUT THE NEGATIVE FEELINGS MAKE IT HARD FOR YOU TO PUT YOUR FINGER ON THEM, OR EVEN WANT TO ACKNOWLEDGE THEM. KARKAT: THAT IS ABSOLUTELY STANDARD. WHAT GOOD WOULD IT BE HAVING A KISMESIS WHO DIDN'T POSSESS QUALITIES YOU ACTUALLY ADMIRED ON SOME LEVEL? KARKAT: THAT WOULD BE BORING, AND IT WOULDN'T EVEN WORK. THERE'D BE NO TENSION, NO PUSH AND PULL IN THE TURBULENT EMOTIONAL LANDSCAPE. THE SUBTLE POSITIVES ADD FUEL TO THE NEGATIVE FEELINGS, OFTEN GIVING THEM A REASON TO EXIST AT ALL. THEY INFLAME THE AGGRAVATING FACTORS, REMINDING YOU DEEP DOWN HOW MUCH YOU WOULD LIKE AND ADMIRE THIS PERSON IF IT WASN'T FOR ALL THEIR INFURIATING FLAWS, AND THE INCREDIBLE SENSE OF FRUSTRATION THAT CAUSES ALONG WITH ALL THE ASSOCIATED HOT-HEADED FEELINGS, THAT'S THE ESSENCE OF BLACK ROMANCE.

Cherub romance, on the other hand, is much more vitriolic. Here's Aranea explaining it (typing quirk removed for legibility):

Like humans, cherubs perceive romance through only one quadrant. Unlike humans, their relationships are exclusively black. But their mating ritual is much more violent than any practice trolls would, or even physically could engage in. And though it is critical to the perpetuation of their race, the confrontations can sometimes be lethal to one or both cherubs. Regardless of the outcome, the stakes are always high. The winner of the duel will assume control of the other's territory, while the loser will slink away to bear the offspring. So as she toured the planetary wreckage, she knew her quest for a mate was not just about the propagation of her species, but the liberation of billions from a monster.

For cherubs, there's no question of wanting your mate to be "better". There's no core of admiration. Your mate is a bitter enemy who needs to be eradicated -- perhaps one only you can eradicate (ah, romance). Cherub mating is a life-or-death battle where the only possible outcomes are defeat or conquest. No one will be waxing red for their mate afterward. That simply isn't a thing, in the cherub understanding of romance.

Furthermore, a cherub's mate is their opposite, in every way possible. They have diametrically opposing goals, temperaments, and philosophies of life. There's no possibility of seeing eye to eye with your mate. They're simply everything you aren't, and you despise them for it.

Caliborn's feelings towards Dirk

So. Does Caliborn have blackrom feelings towards Dirk? And I mean cherub blackrom, in its full, vitriolic glory. Does Caliborn despise Dirk, and think he's a threat among threats who needs to be eliminated at all costs?

Well. He wants to kill him, sure. But of all the people Caliborn wants to kill, he wants to kill Dirk the least.

IT'S THE DIRK HUMAN. HE IS SOMEWHAT TOLERABLE. I MEAN. AS A STRONG AND COMPETENT MALE. What. So you're down with the Dirk? NO. ALL I'M SAYING IS. THE DEATH I WISH ON HIM DOESN'T HAVE TO BE ESPECIALLY PAINFUL. IT COULD BE LIKE. GOING TO SLEEP. WITH MAYBE ONLY A SHORT SCREAM. I think you want to be bros with him. SHUT YOUR MOUTH.

So right off the bat, we can see that Caliborn does not at all have the sort of hatred for Dirk that cherubs have for their mates. He barely even thinks Dirk needs to die. Furthermore, he sees himself and Dirk as philosophically aligned in some ways, both being strong, competent males who like to fuck shit up. Hardly the sort of diametrically opposing role that a cherubic mate would fill.*

Now, what we do see here is some of that admiration that you see sometimes in troll blackrom. And there's a bit more of that in Caliborn's masterpiece, when Caliborn says of the fight between himself and Dirk:

IT WAS A PRETTY GOOD FIGHT BETWEEN US. BECAUSE HE'S STRONG, AND I ADMIRE THAT. WHY SHOULDN'T I LET A BATTLE HAPPEN FOR LONGER, WHEN TWO TOUGH DUDES ARE INVOLVED, STRUTTING THEIR STUFF.

So, okay. Maybe there's something here a bit akin to troll kismesissitude, if not cherub romance. But I still don't think that's the quadrant that matches best. Because, to be honest, there are a lot of people Caliborn wants dead, and several he sees as rivals (e.g. Jake, Dave). But there's only one person he's said anything like this about:

uu: BuT. THE DIRK HuMAN IS A PRETTY COOL GuY. uu: HE GETS THINGS DONE. uu: AND ISN'T AFRAID TO FuCK SOME SHIT uP. uu: LIKE. HE ACTuALLY LISTENS. uu: TO STuFF THAT'S IMPORTANT FOR A DuDE TO GET OFF HIS CHEST. uu: YOu KNOW. HE *GETS* EXACTLY THAT WHICH THE BITCHES CAN NEVER uNDERSTAND. uu: I GuESS WHAT I MEAN IS. HE REALLY KNOWS WHAT IT MEANS. uu: TO TRuLY BE A BRO.

Yeah. Caliborn likes talking about his feelings with Dirk. To be frank, this is an unprecedented admission from him. There are a few people he'll admit to not entirely hating -- mostly his lackeys -- but no one else he sees as a bro.

And why shouldn't he see Dirk as a bro? After all…

Dirk likes Caliborn

Yeah, so, here's the thing: Dirk simply does not hate Caliborn. Like, at all. In fact, he thinks he and Caliborn are friends.

TT: Surely there must be at least one of our virtues you admire. uu: YES. AMBITION. THAT'S THE ONLY GOOD ONE. uu: AND I THINK YOu GOT THAT. WHICH IS MAYBE WHY. YOu'RE THE ONLY ONE I CAN PuT uP WITH FOR ANY DuRATION? uu: LET'S CALL IT A GRuDGING RESPECT. WHICH IS THE ONLY KIND THAT'S EVEN WORTH A FuCK. TT: I'll take that as a rare overture of friendship.

He thinks Caliborn is "fascinating".

TT: You're a pretty fascinating guy, in a way. I can't really figure you out. TT: In case you're wondering why I put up with you more than my friends do.

He's entirely willing to help Caliborn and seems to enjoy talking to him. He made Caliborn's robot leg for him. He very memorably drew a whole bunch of custom "porn" for him, and was entirely willing to do so for no particular reason other than that he thought it was fun.

But more to the palerom point… Dirk tries to pacify Caliborn.

TT: I thought the point was to cooperate with your coplayers to achieve an objective. TT: Not compete with them or try to kill them. I don't think we've had one conversation where you didn't express the desire to kill her. uu: I GuESS WE'LL JuST HAVE TO SEE. WON'T WE? uu: I THINK THIS IS PROBABLY A DIFFERENT KIND OF SESSION. uu: ONE WHERE THE PLAYERS FIGHT FOR SuPREMACY. RATHER THAN WORK TOGETHER. uu: I THINK THAT IT MuST BE THAT WAY. uu: BECAuSE THAT IS HOW I WANT IT TO BE. uu: AND IF I WANT SOMETHING TO BE TRuE HARD ENOuGH. THEN THAT MAKES IT SLIGHTLY MORE ABSOLuTELY IRREFuTABLE. uu: ARE YOu FEELING ME, FuCKER? TT: Maybe you're right. TT: But since that's how you feel now, maybe the truth is that the game is challenging you to overcome those feelings? TT: What if your real quest is to put aside your differences and work together, if you want to both survive, and grow as a person?

He tries to get Caliborn to get along better with Calliope.

TT: Does your sister even know you're into this sappy shipping stuff? TT: You berate her constantly for everything, and I know she likes to write and illustrate romfics and the like. […] TT: I'm just saying, it's an interest you have in common. If you told her you liked her romantic artwork, maybe you could bond over that?

Frankly, these are some textbook pale overtures on Dirk's part.** If they were trolls, there would be no question that his feelings are the palest of pale.

And, look, Dirk is not at all successful in pacifying Caliborn, and to be honest I don't think he ever fully took Caliborn seriously as a threat. But still, if you're looking for a quadrant to describe these two, I'd say moirallegiance is it.

But then again, they aren't trolls. They're a human and a cherub. So in the end, maybe it would be more suitable to just call them exactly what Caliborn is so tsundere about admitting that they are: bros.

-----------

Footnotes:

* If you're looking for someone Caliborn does feel cherub-style romantic hatred for: Calliope. It's Calliope. It's always been Calliope.

** Actually, now that I think about it, they're arguably ashen overtures where Dirk is attempting to mediate between Calliope and Caliborn. Which itself would be a fascinating ship. But let's not get too into that here.

[itsdeniini]

OMG, hi!! I've become a huge fan of your work, it's so pretty the aesthetic and everything, I really enjoy reading your posts 💕

Can I ask for a twin flame reading for Jungwon?

˚୨୧ 🍵💭 ⊹ ࣪ ˖ hi c: ty for ur kind words boo ! here is the : JUNGWON'S TWIN FLAME TAROT READING >ᡣ𐭩<

໒꒱🌱⠈⠂. n 0 t e 〃

♡1: i am a self-taught tarot reader, and the interpretations i provide are personal. if anyone would like to share their own insights, i would be more than happy to hear them! please be kind <3

♡2: in this reading, I will be talking about a person from the future and how their relationship will progress at the moment when they are already know each other; that's the twin flame that he's yet to meet.

GENERAL READING 𓆤

Jungwon's twin flame is currently trying to work with him on how to mold their lives together to be one in the physical aspect. There could be talks to meet up, important phone conversations, being honest, open, and vulnerable with one another. And part of Jungwon is ready to accept this, but part of him is hesitant due to the turmoil in the past; he doesn’t want to repeat another cycle and end up with The Ten of Wands, and that's the only thing that's holding him back. At the same time, I feel Jungwon has successfully broken through any negative thought patterns that prevent him from moving forward in his own life because I pulled out all the other 10’s of the tarot deck here, EXCEPT for the Ten of Wands, so that's very good! The only ones here are the wands, but this is recent past energy he has either finished moving through or will be moving through. Next in his current energy, I have The Knight of Cups, The Ten of Pentacles, and The Eight of Swords, so this really tells me he has a slight fear of this connection finally taking off because it would mean that it enters into a new cycle that he doesn’t know exactly how it’s going to go because it won’t be easy because his twin flame is a mischievous and unpredictable person, and this scares him beyond anything. What he doesn’t see with this is that on the other side of fear (the moon) is the Ten of Cups. This is quite literally everything he's been wishing for and manifesting. And this is something that will be in balance, indicated not only with the Six of Pentacles but also with the Temperance right next to it and the Nine of Cups. He will keep pushing through his fear; the turbulence of separation is falling away naturally, and this is meant to let it fall gracefully as he sheds previous layers to move into your true divine happiest self. They’ve had or will have breakthroughs that will be long-lasting and will bring happiness and the opportunity for new beginnings.

Now on to the near portrait of Jungwon's twin flame:

☀️ In Cancer

First of all, she is a girl and is a very intuitive person with a lot of knowledge. Her intuition comes naturally. She likely relies on her gut feelings and has a strong inner knowing that guides her decisions. When she is off her professional field, she is often sensitive, emotional, and deeply connected to her home and twin flame. Being a water sign, she can easily pick up on Jungwon's emotions, understanding him like nobody else.

Influences: ���♅

Saturn’s influence suggests that she's a person who values hard work, has a strong sense of duty, and approaches life with a mature and realistic attitude. Uranus’s influence indicates that she's a person who is original, forward-thinking, and possibly unconventional. She may embrace new ideas and technologies, often standing out for her uniqueness. Also I can associate her overall energy with the Solar Plexus Chakra from the 7 Chakra system, it is associated with personal power, self-confidence, and control. A strong Solar Plexus Chakra suggests she is someone who is confident, has a strong sense of self, and can assert her willpower effectively.

Personal Style:

She has a preference for classic, elegant, and professional attire, like suits and ties for example. She values a polished and put-together appearance, likely reflecting her disciplined Saturn influence.

Interests and Passions:

EDM/Dubstep Music >.< This genre of music aligns with the innovative and unconventional traits of Uranus. She's into Enhypen music a lot; that's just her style. Her favorite song could probably be Go Big or Go Home or any other song that Enhypen will release in the future with this sound. Additionally, she may be into self-care and exploring new technologies that could make her appearance better; she is most likely attending cosmetologists and facial massages quite often, not forgetting also about make-up and hair salons.

Career:

She's most probably not from the showbiz field, although she may actively run a page on Instagram or any other social media; I would say she is implicated in the medical field, or perhaps she is an educator or teacher.

Personal Traits:

Dark hair

Dry sense of humor

Family-oriented

Egotistical (mostly at the work place)

Materialistic

Protective

Tan Skin (she may be of a mixed race or have it naturally)

[doodle-pops]

˚*ೃ༄When You Argue With Them˚*ೃ༄

Headcanons: Turgon, Aegnor, Rog, Thingol

Synopsis: In which you decide to sleep on the couch during the argument.

. ˚◞♡ *ೃ༄ Turgon — arguments with Turgon are never peaceful, more turbulent than ever and it sometimes takes more than a week before the two of you can come to terms. The heat is high when he braces you, towering mighty tall and fiercely with arms firmly planted at his side and face screwed with rage.

Your attempts at getting him to leave his silver-haired cousin alone whenever he made jabs at him were futile. Another dispute between the both of them led to Turgon attacking first and Celegorm following suit to defend. You could no longer take it, you’d been at it for hours, attempting to prove yourself right and for him to humble his pride.

All you wanted was for him to understand that he was wrong and Celegorm was simply egging him on for entertainment. He should understand his cousin’s intentions by now.

Deflating as you stood closer to the door of your room, you sighed and trudged over to your bed, prying your pillow and sheet off and marching out of the room.

“Where are you going?” he puzzled.

Shaking your head and marching down the staircase to enter the living room, you heard him trailing behind. “What are you doing Y/N?”

“Sleeping on the couch Turgon.” Your voice was empty, hiding your rage behind each syllable. “I have no energy to sleep in bed.”

His shoulders and face fell at the awareness of the meaning. Even when you argued in the past, it never escalated where you slept elsewhere; this was a first. Not liking the sensation of guilt settling in his chest, he stepped forward to cut off your actions. A hand reached out to take the pillow out of yours. “Please don’t…I’ll sleep outside if that’ll make you feel better.”

“Káno, you’re too long for the couch; you’ll feel uncomfortable,” you scolded.

“As will you…” he hesitated, playing around with the words in his mouth before spitting it out, “…I’m sorry. You’re right and I’m wrong. Just come to bed please.”

Staring at him contemplating, you sighed. It wasn’t often he openly apologised, so this was a first from your stubborn husband. “Fine…but we’re settling this properly in the morning.”

. ˚◞♡ *ೃ༄ Aegnor — he hates arguments with you because he gets lost in the moment and heated. He’s trying his best to state his point across and justify why he was right to confront his cousins, but you weren’t pleased with his reasons.

Aegnor didn’t want to keep arguing, but you weren’t agreeing, so he was relentlessly attempting to get you to see his point of view. In his eyes, the punishment that arise from his feud with Caranthir was simple one and he was right to start it. He could be so hard-headed at times, and it made you want to pull your hair out.

“Aegnor, you were wrong to engage in the argument, you should have walked away. You know you don’t have a wholesome relationship with them, but take the risk,” you fired and watched as he stopped his pacing to give you an incredulous look.

“How could you say that after they murdered our people? They deserve being incriminated; they’re just lucky that the King was compassionate to just ban our tongue.” You had marched over to stand at the bedhead, ripping the sheets off the mattress and rushing to get into bed and end your dispute.

Refusing to comply, you turned to the wardrobe and grabbed a pillow and quilt before stomping out of your chambers. It didn’t take long for Aegnor to rush after you, shouting your name. When he did catch up, you were spreading the quilt over the sofa in the lounge and placing your pillow at the head.

“…Y/N?”

“I’m sleeping outside Aegnor. We just don’t seem to be on the same page right now,” you quietly respond, not sparing him a glance. He was torn between feeling guilty and wanting you to settle your thoughts out and understand. Not sure what to exactly do, he walked over and aided you in settling down.

“What are you doing?”

“Helping you so you can get a good night’s rest if this is your decision.”

Gapping at how innocent he was to the experience of arguments, instead of swelling with rage, you snickered at him. “Aegnor, you’re supposed to say that you won’t allow me to sleep outside on the sofa, not help me.”

Breaking out of his focused state, wanting to still please you through your displeasure, he sheepishly laughed and scratched his head. “Oh, I didn’t know you wanted me to say that…I’m new to all this you know.”

Sighing at his innocence, you’d admit that despite the frustration you were experiencing currently, his helpless state was humorous and adorable. “You’re so clueless Aengor…”

. ˚◞♡ *ೃ༄ Rog — he hates arguments and never liked the idea of going to bed displeased. If he as to stay up all night to settle the dispute so you and he can have a good night's rest, Rog would. He wants you to know that even though you both have your options, he still loves you.

Rog would get lost in spending hours, even days in his forge, leaving you in solitude. Not being able to take it, it led to a one-sided argument between the both of you. Rog understood your frustration and his lack of care and attention towards his spouse, hence his reason for remaining silent and taking in your disputes.

Ranting to him about how he doesn’t come to bed anymore or make time to have breakfast, lunch and dinner with you or even take a walk, caused tears to flow from your eyes. He rushes over to meet your broken figure but was met with the force of your hands pushing him away and whispering to leave you be; you required time to relax now that you were a mess.

Rog watched with furrowed brows the entire time you shuffled out of your shared chambers to sleep on the sofa in your nightwear. His heart clenched at the barrier you were building after you demanded his time. Being a pleaser, he was not standing for your separation and waited for slumber to kick in before making his move.

Waking from your slumber, you turned to adjust yourself on the sofa and rolled into a firm chest with steel arms around your waist. Looking up, you noticed Rog was awake and staring off into space. “Dearest why am I in bed? I thought I was sleeping on the sofa?”

“I couldn’t allow you to. No matter how upset you were with me, I couldn’t bring myself to let you,” he whispered. He could see the anger behind those sweet eyes he fell in love with.

“Well…I’m still displeased.”

“I understand and I am sorry… But I’ll be out of the forges for the rest of the week. I would like to talk this out to not repeat it again.” His eyes held sorrow the longer he gazed at you.

“…You still could have allowed me to sleep on the sofa.”

“Not a chance; if anyone’s doing that, it should be me since it’s my fault.”

Softly smiling at his sincerity and nobility, you leaned forward and nuzzled into his chest, relishing in his warmth. “Why don’t we stay in bed a little longer and then decide who sleeps on the sofa?”

“Deal,” he laughed.

. ˚◞♡ *ೃ༄ Thingol — arguments with him also feel one-sided because, at certain times, he ignores your complaints, but you both engage in a level-headed match, it’s mostly him taking the lead with his anger. It wasn’t often the King was seen fuming.

Tired of having Thingol dictate your every decision, even after he made deals with you to give you free time, it always came back to bite you. You should know that as his lover, he wants to keep you safe from the harm and danger the world contains. If he doesn’t allow his people out of the borders, then you’re not departing either, even if you wanted to see the rest of the world.

“Thingol please, all I ask is to see the world. I can even take our Marchwarden with me!” you fumed. Still, your response wasn’t enough to convince the King. He was finding all sorts of ways to prove you wrong until he couldn’t.

“Beleg is needed in Doriath to train our troupes, I cannot simply allow him to run off with in into the wilderness meleth-nîn,” he reasoned, taking a step closer to you with his hands out.

Sighing at another attempt at denying your request, you hmphed and zig-zagged out of his grasp, making a beeline for the bed. The argument was going on since this morning and he had yet to let you have your way or provide a reasonable excuse. Not wanting to be in his presence for the rest of the night, you snatched your blanket and pillow off the bed and paraded out of the room.

Behind you the entire time, Thingol was following and asking you what you were doing while you continued to ignore him and look for a suitable place to nap. Passing all the spare rooms since they required a key, you wedged yourself through the library entrance and plopped onto the sofa beneath the eastern window. Frowning in disgust at the location of choice to rest your head, he tsked. 

“If you are going to be upset with me and sleep elsewhere, might as well sleep somewhere decent and lavish.” He gave you no time to respond, scooping you from the sofa along with blanket and pillow, and filed back through the corridor of empty chambers.

“Thingol put me down!”

“Your wish, my command, but at least let me find you a decent sofa…ah!” Returning to his chamber, he walked over and placed you on his bed-like sofa, ignoring your protests. “There, better!”

“You’re not supposed to…this isn’t what you…Thingol, you’re supposed to be displeased that I’m choosing to sleep on the sofa,” you huffed, crossing your arms and glaring at his overly large frame.

Puzzled, Thingol cocked his head to the side. “I thought you wanted me to agree with your decisions?”

“Yes, er…I meant with Doriath, not with the…never mind. You’re so confusing at times. We’ll discuss this some other time,” you sighed with an amused grin on your face, inspecting the curious one on Thingol’s face.

“As you wish meleth.”

Masterlist | Underrated Character Event Masterlist |

Taglist: @eunoiaastralwings @noldorinpainter @ranhanabi777  @lilmelily @someoneinthestars @mysticmoomin @aconstructofamind @the-phantom-of-arda @rain-on-my-umbrella @singleteapot @wandererindreams @asianbutnotjapanese @justellie17 @justjane @silverose365 @bunson-burner @wisheduponastar @stormchaser819 @ilu-stripes @floragardeniahope

[thestarofhermes]

Behold! ‘Tis I, Fischl, the Prinzessin de Verurteilung! ‘Twas fate that led our paths to cross during one’s most turbulent of eras, and now one must test your knowledge of arithmetic to see if you are indeed worthy of the glories sung in your name! Should you succeed, one shall grant you the divine privilege of stepping foot into one’s beloved Immernachtreich!

10^x + 11^x + 12^x = 13^x + 14^x

X=?

Oh! It seems I have neglected this app for quite a while. I'm sorry for my mistake, please do not take this as an offense. I've been so busy trying to get used to life outside the island.

Fischl, the Prinzessin der Verurteilung? An introduction I'll most likely remember for some time. And you've given me a test, too! Wonderful. You've sent this question 4 days ago.. Hmh, I'm not sure if you still require an answer, but just incase:

Based on the given question:

"10^x + 11^x + 12^x = 13^x + 14^x"

I have calculated that x holds the value of 2. I'll provide a detailed explanation for further comprehension!

The first and foremost step to uncovering this equation, you must evaluate the behaviour of both sides of the equation as the x varies!

For x = 2,

10^2 + 11^2 + 12^2 = 100 + 121 + 144 = 365

13^2 + 14^2 = 169 + 196 = 365

Thus, 10^2 + 11^2 + 12^2 = 13^2 + 14^2 proves that x = 2.

Of course, with every equation, it is natural for us to question whether we have calculated the accurate result! This part is what most people find less important, but, it really is as important as the fun of finding solutions.

We can analyse the functions on either sides,

The left-hand side, f(x) = 10^x + 11^x + 12^x, is an increasing function since the sum of exponential functions with bases greater than 1 is increasing. The right-hand side, g(x) = 13^x + 14^x, is also an increasing function, with the same explanation why.

Since both functions are increasing, they can intersect at most once. From our methodical calculation, we have made it clear that x = 2 is the most reasonable conclusion because the functions f(x) = 10^x + 11^x + 12^x and g(x) = 13^x + 14^x are strictly increasing due to the derivative of each term being positive for x > 0. The most the can intersect is once. Since we found a single intersection at x = 2, it is the only solution.

Thus, the value of x is 2.

I don't exactly understand what you meant by an Immernachtreich, but from the formation of the word as a whole, I assume it is some form of Germanic language.

...

All right! I have successfully googled the meaning, and your offer seems tempting! Well, I hope my explanation has served some use to you, and everyone else. I'm still figuring out how these applications work, so there's definitely a high chance of me not responding as conveniently as you wish. I'll check if there are any other questions I've left unanswered—

Farewell! I'd find it nice to talk with you again.

[youroomwasquare]

Hey just wanna pop into your inbox and say: I think your analysis for Marcy really understands the core of Amphibia's theme (change) and the basis of Marcy's arc. I could nitpick with small details I don't agree with (saying that Marcy doesn't have confidence issues (Marcy tends to overcompensate thus coming off as confident but really they're a scared kid) or Marcy doesn't have control issues (Marcy has control issues in the sense that they did feel the need to drag their friends into another dimension (those these control issues do mostly come from a lack of agency in Marcy's life)) but honestly the core of the analysis is spot on. You entirely understood exactly why Marcy's arc went like it did! And I really liked you pointing out in your response to an ask about it that escapism is not inherently bad rather how much we let it take over our life is when it becomes an issue!

It was really refreshing to see someone take a look at the end of Amphibia, and realize that it really did do Marcy justice and personally I feel that it does justice to people who have those same issues in life AS Marcy. Showing us that change will happen showing us that we will never be alone even if there is physical distance even if our relationships change even if things change that doesn't mean that life is over. The end of Amphibia I feel like a is a love letter to the fact that life is not stagnant, change is not an ending it's just a new chapter. And we see Marcy after the time skip have that agency in a world that isn't Amphibia by Marcy CHOOSING what they want to do in life. Hell we see that set up for that agency when Marcy rejects the CORE. Marcy finds healthy coping mechanisms Marcy finds a way to indulge in fantasy that isn't being consumed (or assimilated). It's something that's so wholly them how can you possibly be upset that that's what they did with their life! It's looking kids like Marcy in the eyes and saying "things get better. Throwing your life into fantasy will not save you from change but that does not mean you are doomed."

Marcy's sort of "unfinished arc" is a beautiful love letter to growing up. Just like how Anne and Sasha's arcs are love letters to growing up in their own ways.

I just wanted to say thank you for such a refreshing take :]

this is so 🥺🥺. THANK YOU SO MUCH!! I read your message and was on cloud nine the entire rest of the day, this message warmed my heart SO MUCH. aaaa I cannot thank you enough for connecting with it and sending such a lovely piece of writing in response :,) looking back on my analysis, I do agree that some of my points were a bit off ahaha. especially the point I made where marcy was 100% self confident in herself.. oof. during her stay in amphibia, while marcy DID grow into herself, and was truly able to see the extent of her skills and knowledge, she still had a ways to go when it came to other aspects outside of her intelligence. and you brought up a very good point, in that marcy does tend to overcompensate in order to be well liked!! but I've never even thought of the idea that marcy could have control issues. and I love this point!! you're SO right-- marcy had a lack of control when it came to what she truly wanted, so sending them to amphibia was her way of trying to gain back control & not feel extremely helpless. agh, I love how all the girl's issues seem to bleed into one another. I'll definitely think more about this, thank you for the amphibia brain food :) your whole last paragraph, yes, this, exactly. marcy's journey IS a love letter to all those like her-- kids who are (or have been) terrified of all the change that comes with growing up. kids who retreat back into their safe spaces-- the things they've known their entire lives-- for comfort amidst all the turbulent times. kids who will eventually learn, through one way or another, that change will always be present. but that it doesn't have to be a bad thing!! "even if things change that doesn't mean that life is over"-- this, to me, perfectly encapsulates the entire message of amphibia. the epilogue showed that life goes on. amphibia healed-- the amphibians healed, grew into themselves, and finally got the chance to live the lives they wanted to. amphibia honored the impact the girls made on them, and mourned their absence (and still mourn in some ways). but they still kept living. and they still carry all the memories, experiences, lessons, and love as well. the girls continued to live as well-- and they still honor amphibia in their own ways. we see it so much in the epilogue!! to me, it shows that nothing truly ends-- even worlds apart, they all still live on and still continue to love and still let new people in, and are able to let them go if needed. because of that experience they all shared together-- they all still trickle into every friendship, relationship, and connection the others have.

***

the girls learned through their experiences in amphibia that change IS scary. and that it's okay to acknowledge that. and that there are so many people going through the same thing as them. and in that way, they will always have a connection. the girls are not connected forever because of their experiences in amphibia-- amphibia ended. what they are connected by though, is the fact that they will always have a place in each other's lives. and the love that radiates out of all of them-- for each other, and for their friendship as a whole.

"The end of Amphibia I feel like a is a love letter to the fact that life is not stagnant, change is not an ending it's just a new chapter"-- I COMPLETELY AGREE WITH THIS!! and it's actually how I view the marcy from the end of the show. one of the beauties of marcy's unfinished arc is that marcy now has all of the time in the world to choose who she wants to be and what she wants to do with her life. she has so many lessons to learn, people to meet, tears (both happy and sad) to shed, smiles to make and love to share. amphibia may have ended, but for marcy-- it's a whole new beginning. the possibilities are so endless.. and that's such a good feeling!!

growing up is hard to do. we see that all the time in media, reflected in our own experiences of growing up. I'm so happy the calamity trio exists. I relate to them so much already-- I cannot wait to see the ways I'll continue to relate to them as I keep growing.

[phantomlemon348]

Ok, I've only just watched Broadchurch and haven't even finished it yet but I said this from the first episode.

Ellie and Alec's relationship. It is very divided, a lot of people ship them, then again a lot of people don't.

But this is my theory: Since the first episode, when they started working together, you could see they don't stand eachother but at the same time get along great, but never would either think to admit it. A sassy duo, inseparable but can't stand eachother. Always fighting and throwing around pointed spiky comments. But you see how much they actually care for eachother.

Especially in the last episode of season 1, when he directed the phone signals to his mobile. Ellie just thought he was being a dick, like he always is, and I missed it at first too... But he directed the signals to his phone because he already had a suspicion who it was, he was quite certain and he wanted to be the one to tell her.

In season 2 as well, he tries to warm up for her.

When he offers her a hug, Alec is not a huggy person, we all know that, he will go out of his comfort zone for her.

But Ellie said no and it made him more cautious I find. In several scenes you can see the look he gives her. You can see it makes him unhappy to see her sad, but all he does is ask if she's ok and nothing more because she rejected him last time and doesn't want to make it awkward again.

Ok but I just want to say, I don't ship them too hard, romantically. They are best friends, Ellie's a person he trusts completely, someone who shows some fondness and affection for him. And she's grateful for him being there, especially during the trial in season 2, when Beth, who she would have usually talked to, turned on her, she had someone to talk to -(who wouldn't always listen and be a bit of an arsehole but generally, he was halfway understanding).

And aaaaaaarrrrrggh, the last episode of season 2. I think we can all agree here the "I'm not hugging you" hit hard. You could see he wanted a little bit more, maybe...? We all know our man Hardy is awkwardly affectionate, it's not exactly his strong point now, is it? But y'know, if he's leaving Broadchurch, maybe never to return (we know that he does, or at least they meet again. There wouldn't be a season 3 otherwise but we're thinking in-character here) he might want something more because she does mean more to him. She helped him find himself again, showed him some affection or fondness when he needed it most and nobody else would. She helped him back onto the path when he was alone aimlessly wandering through the foggy woods.

And when Ellie said: "Don't be kind to me, that's not how it works." That was cute how she didn't want to leave yet, wanted to wait for the taxi. Yes, that is what friends do. But my theory (could be just a hope cuz I ship them a bit and they need to be fucking fluffy or I will not survive) at the moment is: Ellie is used to him being an arse and she won't admit it, at least not to him but she will miss him. And I think she doesn't want him to be nice because she's trying not to show how much it means to her. Cuz that's I dunno, how them two are. Slightly confused, huh? Oh ye, can say that again. But he has been nice to her in subtle ways that she hasn't noticed and vice versa.

I'm sorry to all the non-shippers but I do think there have maybe been a few sparks between them. You can't deny it.

Alec is touchstarved. He loved Tess you could see that. They still care for eachother and he wanted to go back and tried to fix it. Stitch it up because he wanted someone to love and someone to love him. He fell for Tess and was happy falling. Would've loved to fall forever. But Sandbrook brought by some turbulence on the way. And it was like Tess smashed the ground into him. It came too soon. He wasn't looking. He wasn't expecting it. And it left a bloody mess on the floor and a broken man recovering from it.

But this accident leaves him scarred and he's scared of falling again. He is literally dying of a broken heart.

But I see him wandering towards the edge for Ellie. He's close, I think. But not wanting to, not letting himself make the same mistake again.

I see them as being fluffily awkward and sassy to eachother. But maybe - just maybe - in one scene where Alec says: Oh, Miller, I could kiss you. Yes. I admit, I was hoping for something.

They would kiss like once or twice but find it fucking awkward and never do it again.

As in besties but a slight bit more? But not too romantic?

I don't know if that makes sense but that's how I would describe their relationship.

My sister and I have come up with a simple way to put it: platonic romantic.

[megidonitram]

Everyone's Running From Something

(ch. 6)

A Baldur's Gate 3 University Professor AU

Rating: M

Quick Summary: Astarion and Gale are two University English professors precariously mentoring a troubled 19-year-old and falling in love.

💖Main Pairing : BloodWeave,(Astarion/Gale) 💕Side Pairings: Shadowheart/Nocturne, Karlach/Dammon, Wyll/The Dark Urge, Tav/Tav 💔Past Pairings: Gale/Mystra, Astarion/Sebastian, Astarion/Tav

<=Previous Chapter | Master List | Ao3 | Next Chapter =>

**Please see Master List Entry for Full Content Warnings**

⏰Chapter Warning⏰

none

Gale stepped into the administration office on the second floor to find a severe woman with slicked-back auburn hair typing away furiously at her computer. Her attention immediately snapped to Gale when the door swung shut.

“May I help you?” She sounded pleasant enough, but Gale couldn’t shake the feeling that he was annoying her.

“Yes, I, uh, I’ve locked myself out of my office, I was told to come find…” Gale looked back down at his phone for the name “Mizora?”

The woman smiled like she had scented blood and rested her chin on her hand. “Speaking.”

“Oh, excellent. Can you help me then?”

“Hmm, I don’t know…” she slammed one of her desk drawers open and pulled out a ledger. “Name and office number?”

“Um… Gale Dekarios, office B126.”

Mizora gave him a dubious look as she flipped rather leisurely through the yellowed pages of her ledger. “Hmm… That name doesn’t sound familiar. What subject do you teach exactly?”

“English?”

Mizora nodded, skimming down a line of office numbers with her finger. “…B1 is the English office block, but I can’t say I recognize you.”

“Well, I just started this semester…”

"Likely story." Mizora looked up from her sheet with narrowed eyes. “I’ll need your faculty ID card.”

“I’m, uh, afraid that’s with my office keys…” Gale admitted sheepishly. He held up his briefcase. “I’ve still got a few syllabi with my name on them, that should prove-“

“As an employee of Balduran University, you are required to keep employee identification on you at all times.” She snapped. “I have to assume all other forms of ID are fabrications.”

“I clearly didn’t mean to leave it in my office.” Gale let out an exasperated sigh. “What if you came with me, and I showed you my ID once you left me in my office?”

Mizora put a hand over her chest as Gale had just said something absolutely precious. “Dr. Dekarios… If that is your real name-“

“It is.”

“We’ll see.” Mizora flicked her wrist dismissively. “But if you are who you say you are, then surely you understand the particular faculty member you're sharing a space with is… shall we say, rather prone to turbulent romantic entanglements.” Her eyes shined with strange glee. “Surely you understand that I can’t just let a stranger into his office- That could be incredibly improper.”

Gale flushed an indignant shade of red. His heart jittered with some strange emotion. He didn’t much appreciate hearing these kinds of things about Astarion behind his back- it felt indecent. “I don’t know what you’re trying to accuse me of exactly, but I assure you we are just coworkers.”

“Not that it’s stopped him before… but you’re right, I suspect you’re not much of his type.” Mizora looked him up and down with appraising eyes that made Gale feel wholly undressed. “… You seem a bit old.”

A strange pit formed in Gale’s stomach, something like shame. “I don’t see how any of this is appropriate or relevant to the matter at hand.” He huffed. “Can’t you just-”

The office door swung open, and a young man with neatly laid braids cautiously stepped into the room, a manilla folder in one hand and a coffee cup carrier in the other. Mizora’s demeanor somehow got even more foul at the sight of him- a feat Gale wouldn't think her capable of if he didn't see it happen.

The young man glanced over at Gale. “Am I interrupting?”

“Oh, no-”

“Well, you’ve already barged in, Wyll. You might as well get it over with.” Mizora snapped.

He held out the manila folder, and Gale spied a sticky note stuck to the top of it that said, ‘Distribute to ALL liberal arts department chairs.’ “Dr. Silverwarden just wanted me to drop off the schedule for the athletics study hall-”

Mizora curled her nose like Wyll had offered her a dead squirrel. “Oh, is that harlot making students do her busy work for her now? Had a baby, and now she’s too good to walk to another building?”

“I was just- I offered-” Wyll opened his mouth to stammer out an answer, but Gale stepped in between the two of them before he could chicken out.

“That’s hardly an appropriate tone to take with a student.”

Mizora’s eyes flashed incandescent, and she fixed Gale with a look that probably should have turned him into a pile of ash. “Oh, are you going to tell me how to do my job now ‘Dr. Dekarios’? After you locked your keys in your office like an utter moron.” She snatched the folder out of Wyll’s hand and tossed it on a surface behind her. “Why don’t you leave before I call security and tell them that a strange man is trying to get into a department chair’s office?”

Gale threw his hands in the air like he was being held at gunpoint. “Alright, alright, I’ll leave.” He exited the office with Wyll hot on his heels.

He scrubbed his hands over his face, daunted by the prospect that he would have to track down Astarion somehow when Wyll tapped him on the shoulder. Gale startled like a trapped hare.

“I’m sorry, but are you trying to get into a locked room?” Wyll asked a trimmer of something tentative and excited in his voice. “Because I can help with that!”

Gale raised an eyebrow. He probably shouldn’t be asking a student to break the school code for him, but it wasn’t like he had any other options. “Alright, do you have a spare key?”

Wyll smiled precociously. “Something like that.”

Ominous. But Gale led him back down to his office nonetheless.

“So, you’re the new English professor?” Wyll asked. He handed his tray of coffee to Gale as they reached the office door so he could rummage around for something in his backpack. “If I’d known I was going to run into you, I would have gotten you a coffee too!”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that. I can’t, with good conscience, ask a student to pay for my coffee.”

“I don’t pay for it!” Wyll assured him as he pulled a small nail file and a mangled bobby pin out of a side pocket. “I worked at the campus coffee house a couple of semesters ago, and the manager never deactivated my free drink code.”

Wyll wiggled the bobby pin into the lock, and Gale looked around frantically as he realized what was happening.

“Wyll, are you sure about this?” Gale muttered as a random student waiting in the hall glanced at them curiously.

“Yeah, it’s fine. Dr. Ancunín's the one who taught me how to do this!” Wyll stabbed the nail file into the lock and turned. There was a loud pop as the lock disengaged. “If you ask, he’ll probably teach you too. He says all the locks on campus were bought in bulk, so they all have a similar flaw that makes them easy to pick.”

“Why does Dr. Ancunín know how to pick locks?”

“He wouldn’t say.” He dropped his lock-pick tools back in their side pocket and pushed himself off his knees, brushing his pants off. “But it keeps me from having to ask Mizora when I need to get into a classroom.”

“She’s charming, isn’t she?” Gale handed the coffees back to Wyll. “Does she talk to everyone like that?”

A bitter laugh escaped Wyll’s lips. “No, I’m just her favorite, I guess.” He checked his watch and started a little bit. “Oh, I’m going to be late!” He slung his backpack over his shoulder and half-jogged back down the hallway. He paused before he stepped into the stairwell. “It was nice to meet you, Dr. Dekarios!”

***

G: What the fuck is her problem?

Astarion had to stifle a bark of laughter in front of the students trickling in. Xenia had slipped in at some point, settling in her usual spot: The back corner of the classroom, far from the notice of her peers or teachers. She was trying to skirt around Astarion’s notice too.

A: Did you get back in the office, at least? G: No thanks to Mizora.

Wyll stepped into the room with a sheepish smile and handed him a lukewarm to-go cup of coffee. “Sorry, I’m late.” He whispered.

Astarion took a long sip of his coffee. It was a blonde roast with a splash of milk -he wouldn’t usually bother with the milk, but the teenage baristas tended to burn their shots. “I suppose I can forgive you this once.”

Wyll laughed, but he was already scanning the classroom for someone else. Xenia looked up from the notebook she was pretending to scribble in and gave Wyll a little wave, a tentative smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

Ah, so that was it.

Wyll sidled past the students in the front row to hand Xenia the second cup in his Coffee tray. They beamed at each other the way only school kids could as they talked about something mundane, like the weather or the walk-up from the dorms. Xenia toyed with the end of her braid while Wyll leaned closer and closer over the desk.

He would be good for her.

Better than the crowd Astarion had thrown himself into the instant he got out from under his dearest father’s thumb, at any rate.

Astarion conspicuously cleared his throat and motioned for Wyll to take his spot at the front of the classroom. “This is 1204 Sophomore Survey of Modern British Literature.” He fixed Xenia with a hard stare that she desperately tried to ignore. “If that is not the class you are expecting to be in, I highly suggest you make a swift exit now.”

A different student dozing off in the back of the class startled and ran out of the room.

There was always one every semester.

Astarion went through the same monolog he did at the beginning of every class. The rhythm and cadence were as familiar as a hymn. He grew up in London and graduated from Cambridge. His office hours were posted on the syllabus, but please try to schedule appointments beforehand. This course required a textbook, but most of the readings could be found online for free.

He turned the floor over to Wyll for about five minutes so he could explain what a supplemental instructor was, then closed out by letting a few students speak on what British literature they were familiar with, and as usual, most of them grumbled about how they had to read Shakespeare in high school and how much they hated it because they couldn’t understand the language. One girl threw up her hands in despair when he informed her that she would have to read Romeo and Juliet for a second time, but she was placated when he promised her there wouldn’t be any Chaucer (He wondered what sadist of a world lit teacher she had in high school that made 16-year-olds read middle English). One boy had a Welsh grandmother who loved T.S. Eliot and read him Old Possum’s Book of Practical Cats when he visited in the summer. Astarion refrained from informing him that T.S. Eliot was actually an American.

But for the most part, the class had very little love for British authors—which wasn’t much of a surprise for a mixed major intro-level course—and nearly everyone was here because they had a humanities credit to fill. Really, the only one who wasn’t was probably Xenia… who was here because Wyll was here.

Astarion closed the class by assigning a short reading on the importance of literature studies that he already knew no one would read and dismissed the class. Xenia went for her usual speedy exit from the room, but Astarion headed her off at the pass.

“Just a moment Ms. Bellona, I need a quick word.”

She froze like a statue, and the football player behind her nearly tripped over her.

“I really don’t think I have the time,” she said smoothly. She was learning that she didn’t have to yield to her professors the way she did her high school teachers, but she didn't quite have the courage to openly disobey him yet. Ah, sophomores were his favorite.

“I won’t take up too much of your time.”

Xenia’s shoulders slumped, and she skulked over to his lectern, grumbling something under her breath.

“Oh, don’t be so sour.” Astarion scoffed. “You’re not in trouble.”

“Then why do you make it sound like I am?”

“That’s just his accent,” Wyll explained as he organized his stack of availability surveys to stick in his bag. “It makes everything sound more severe.”

Astarion rolled his eyes. “I will see you tomorrow, Mr. Ravengard.”

“Alright, alright. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Wyll made his way out of the room and paused at the door. “By the way, Lydia wanted me to let you know the study hall schedule is posted.” He said before disappearing into the hallway.

“Since when is he on a first-name basis with Dr. Silverwarden?” Astarion mused.

Xenia shrugged. “He calls Professor Cliffgate by her first name, too.”

“Yes, well, they’re technically colleagues now- It’s no matter.” He switched gears. “Xenia, dearest, why are you in another Sophomore literature class? You technically haven’t completed the first one.”

She went steely. “I’ve been thinking about picking up an English minor. My advisor said that it would go well with my current degree plan.”

“The advising office might be fighting over a singular brain cell, but I’m almost certain they would have told you to take a technical writing minor for a psychology degree.”

“What if I took up a literature minor because I like literature?”

“Then I’d tell you you shouldn’t waste your time.”

“Isn’t that a little hypocritical of you?”

“No, because I was already independently wealthy outside of my education choices. You should focus on a field where you can get a job.”

“Aren’t professors supposed to encourage students to follow their passions?”

“If you’re trying to follow your passions, my dear, there are easier ways to spend time with Wyll.”

Xenia turned red from her neck to the tips of her ears. “I- I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She huffed, zipping up her jacket as if Astarion could literally see into her heart. “We’re just friends- He’s helping me get back on the fencing team in the fall, that’s all!”

Astarion raised his coffee cup to his lips, swallowing back the dregs at the bottom. “Does he buy coffee for all his friends, then?”

Something vexed and nervous swam in Xenia’s dark eyes, and she hurriedly tossed her cup into a nearby trashcan. “He bought you coffee too, by that logic-”

Astarion held up a hand to silence her. “Don’t even imply that.” He scolded. “Wyll brings me coffee because I’m technically his boss, and he likes going above and beyond. I suspect he brings you coffee because he likes to see you happy.”

“I think you’re just reaching.” Her voice wavered in a way that made Astarion feel a little guilty for pushing.

“Maybe, but I’ve watched a lot of students catch crushes in my tenure.”

Her jaw tensed, and her gaze drifted out the window for a brief moment. “Is this all you wanted to talk about?”

“You’re already in a precarious situation regarding your student finances. I just thought I should say something.” Astarion shrugged. “I’m not trying to upset you.”

“Thank you for your concern, but I can take care of myself.” Xenia’s voice was flat and irritated. She slipped her finger under the pad of her messenger bag’s strap and adjusted it into a more comfortable position on her shoulder. “I guess I’ll email you if I have any questions about my work.”

“Alright, have a good afternoon.” Astarion let her leave, then let out a deep sigh.

Idiot kid.

He went to gather his lecture notes when Gale called. He thought about letting it go to voicemail -whatever it was could probably wait the 5 minutes it would take to get back to their office- but something about the situation nagged him a little bit.

He picked up.

“Do you miss the sound of my voice this much?”

“I- uh, what?” Gale sounded panicked on the other end.

“Is something wrong?”

“The faculty lounge is flooding.”

Shit.

[bam-stroker]

Transformative

@betweenblackberrybranches - was telling me about trans Raleigh from Pacific Rim and it opened up my mind to: What if Mako was nonbinary??? So here's a little transgender drift realization drabble

Baggage, that's the thing most people feared the most when stepping in to drift with a new pilot. The thing is, for Raleigh - he hardly saw it as such. At least the part that scared him the most. What happened with his brother practically the entire world knew about. He'd made sure to download every browser extension possible to filter any mention of that day or his brother from suddenly appearing in a quick tabloid just because he wanted to watch the news. He'd certainly avoided all live television for years. He may always struggle with the fear of seeing deep dives appearing while morning talk show hosts gossiped about the people who felt more like ideas then people to them.

Raleigh's baggage was wide open, practically a museum exhibit for anyone who'd want to go looking.

The thing that scared him the most was the thing his brother had known. Had been so earnestly open to. What do you do when such open acceptance could be replaced with new found disdain at the revelation? Raleigh had been born a girl. In time realized he was a man and transitioned. Even before the drift, when he'd opened up to Yancy about it - his brother had hugged him tight. Smile a mile wide as he said, "How lucky am I to get a brother like you!" Such undeniable acceptance in the drift was like nothing he'd ever known.

With Mako - everything was on a tight timeline. His own vulnerability a small cost in the price that could be all of humanity. Funnily enough, during their time early in the drift not a single thing was focused on that part of him and instead he was the one holding on to Mako's mental hand. If she registered the whole trans thing, well, she didn't say anything. It just simply was another fact that existed in the background of the two of them saving the world.

So when the dust settled, and the funerals were held, people packing up, the collective of humanity looking at the wreckage together and stepping forward. Well, that's when it finally had time to come up.

"Raleigh... I think I have something I'd like to discuss with you." He knew the other shoe was finally going to drop but turned to her. Staying friendly and open, "Had a feeling that might be the case. You wanna grab a drink while we do?"

And that's where they find themselves, huddled together at a table overlooking the calm waters of the shatterdome bay. Most of the remaining team members already cleared out, what used to be a raucous spot now one of the most serene in the whole place. Taking a sip of his drink Raleigh leans on the table, not yet ready to meet Mako's ever scanning gaze. She always did that. Always looking, trying to dig deeper. Even after drifting and literally seeing all of each other - she still was searching for more. "Haven't had to have this conversation before so... Sorry in advance if I'm not the best at-" he waves his hand in an unsure circle, "Well any of this. Yancy already knew before."

Mako's hands hold steady to her drink. Taking the time to gather her thoughts. They were an interesting pair. Raleigh verbally dumping out his mind as he tried to figure out what he even might be saying while she already had 100 conversations in her mind. She takes in a deep inhale, looking to the water, "How did you know?"

He looks up at her, slightly confused on what exactly she was going for. From how he knows her though, the way her eyes are searching the horizon he can tell one thing - she has no problem with him and what he is. What ever she's got going is now a question for herself more then him. A pleasantly surprised smile quirks at the end of his lips, "I mean, you've felt it in the drift. Just kind of knew. Like I knew right away you and I were a good team."

Her fingers idly catch the condensation on her glass. Swirling patterns to steady a turbulent mind. "I have. I find them hard to.. Hard to grasp as some of the other feelings. Those I have better language for." Wind blows her hair gently and she looks back at him. Their eyes locked now, "I find that certain parts are.... relatable. While others are not. I had hoped you might be able to give words to them. To help me."

He nods his head, taking a moment to try and do it a little more the Mako way. Think first - words second. "Well, I felt pretty uncomfortable when ever I did the whole 'be a girl' thing. The dresses, the makeup, hell the way my body looked. Yeah, knew that wasn't it. As I got older the things my brother and I used to share became separate. Girls do this, boys do that. Hated that. It just kind of hit me one day of - I'm not a girl. So, if I wasn't that... then the only other option is I'm a guy." He shrugs. Was it the most eloquent explanation in the world? Absolutely not. But it was straight to the point.

She looks down to watch his hands wrapped around his glass. Thinking. The cogs moving in her mind as she finds her words. Slowly she starts, "The parts where you say you were not a girl... I can understand that." She looks up, and there is that open vulnerability to her gaze he'd seen before when Pentecost had snatched her jeager pilot position away. That same broken hope in her voice now, "But what if someone is neither of them?"

So that's what it is.

All of the tension that might have been hanging on to his shoulders eases up as he smiles warmly. A softness as he says, "O, Mako. Yeah. Yeah, there's absolutely a place for neither. I don't really fit into the nonbinary label, personally, but I've got a friend who is that I think you might be able to talk to a little better about what it's like." He reaches out to offer his hands up for Mako to hold.

A million questions must be flipping through her mind but she reaches out. Tethered to the affirmation and acceptance he has to offer. A strong grip pulsing back and forth to each other as they hold hands. He quirks his head to the side, giddy with the sudden excitement of being able to celebrate this new path in Mako's life, "Hey, whatever you need I've got you. Never knew I'd get as lucky as I did to have you as a co-pilot. I'm proud of you, and all the versions of you I get to meet as time goes by. Ok?"

Tears well and slowly fall down her cheeks. A quiver to her smile as she nods, "I do not know where to begin with thanking you for coming in to my life. I... It doesn't feel real. To be this happy? For something like this to be allowed."

Standing up to pull Mako into a hug, Raleigh cradles her head to his shoulder. A rumbly murmur, "Mako, we got a whole life to accept it. The future is ours now. We do what we want with it, and be who ever the hell we wanna be." Leaning back they smile at each other and he gives her a wink, "If that ain't worth celebrating - I don't know what else is."

[cirilla-fiona-riannon]

Kicho's Main Story Ch. 12 Part 1 Romantic

These translations are not intended as a replacement for the game. Please support cybird by buying their stories. Spoilers under the cut. Expect mistakes

Mai: “I want to see you again.”

As I blurted these words weakly...

???: “That’s what I thought too.”

(There’s a voice from outside again...!)

When I opened the door, no one was there.

Mai: “Huh?

???: “Nice try, Mai. The correct answer is...”

Mai: “Up!”

Sasuke: “Down.”

Mai: “Waah!?”

The tatami mat was lifted, and Sasuke appeared in a flash.

Mai: “That surprised me. Can a ninja come out from anywhere?”

Sasuke: “I don’t know. I’m just the type of guy who likes to stick to variations.”

Mai: “I see. You’re very dedicated to your work.”

Mai: “By the way, what are you doing here? I thought you’d gone home.”

Sasuke: “Yeah, exactly. I received an order to return home, so I went back to Echigo, but there’s something I have to tell you, and I really wanted to see you.”

Sasuke: “You escaped from the trading post and came back here safely, right?”

Mai: “Yes. Things happened, but I guess that’s how it turns out.”

Sasuke: “I’m glad to hear that. I was worried that you were suffering from that weird disease too.”

Sasuke: “You feel dizzy and suddenly can’t breathe.”

Mai: “Is that...!”

Sasuke: “You know anything about it?”

Mai: “Yep.”

I remember how hard it was to breathe and involuntarily clutch my chest.

Mai: “I think it’s the effect of history and the future being changed.”

Sasuke: “I knew it. I had the same guess.”

Sasuke: “Actually, my stuff disappeared.”

(It’s the same as mine.)

(I still don’t know where my handkerchief is, but other than that...)

I glanced at the bag I had left in this room when I left for Sakai.

(Right. There was something that had disappeared in the same way!)

I rushed to it and pulled out the travel guide.

Mai: “What? No way.”

Most of it was supposed to be blank, but the contents were slowly returning.

Mai: “What does this mean?”

Sasuke: “It’s the same for me. My stuff that has disappeared is coming back one by one.”

Sasuke: “And this is the most important thing.”

Mai: “What is?”

Sasuke: “The wormhole. The only way for us to return to our original time.”

Sasuke: “Mai. We might be able to go back in the future.”

Mai: “Does that mean the future is back?”

Sasuke: “Yeah, but not completely.”

Sasuke: “For example, the travel guide is partially back to normal, and I no longer feel any pain these past few days.”

Mai: “Same with me.”

(I was able to live a normal life and was so preoccupied with other things that I forgot about it.)

Sasuke: "All I can say is that I'm sure it's coming back."

Sasuke: "And the next time the wormhole will appear is in three weeks."

Mai: "So, less than a month. That's just too sudden."

Sasuke: "I was surprised too, but that's what my observations show."

Sasuke: "I can't say for sure that it'll show up because of what happened last time, but if there's a possibility, I think we should believe in it."

Sasuke: "Besides, this might be our last chance."

Mai: "Really?"

Sasuke: "Yeah, if we miss it, who knows when the next one will appear."

Sasuke: "So if you want, I can bring you back to our time."

Mai: "I see. Thank you."

(I guess it's Sasuke's way of being nice.)

(I'm sure he knows I'm feeling lost.)

If you ask me if I have any regrets about my original time, I don't.

Everything I hold dear is out there. It's where I lived as myself long before I came to this turbulent world, but一

(Too many important things formed in this era, and some people I want to be by my side for the rest of my life are here.)

Sasuke: "I'll be back again next week in the evening."

Sasuke: "The wormhole will appear at Honnoji Temple, just like last time, so we have to leave early, or we won't make it in time."

Sasuke: “I’m sorry I haven’t given you enough time, but please think about it.”

Mai: “Okay.”

Sasuke: “See you later. Good night.”

Sasuke said this gently, and the next time I blinked, he had disappeared.

(A week, huh? I really don’t have much time.)

(More importantly, why do I have a bad feeling about this?)

I frowned as I looked at the guidebook, which was returning to its original state.

It was my and Kicho’s hope to return to the future, where the turbulent world would end as it should have, but before I could be happy, I felt a great anxiety that crushed my heart.

(I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep tonight.)

Mai: “I have no choice. For now, I’ll just work.”

Sighing, I took my sewing kit out again and pulled the new fabric closer to me.

Townsman 1: “Hey, what’s that?”

Townsman 2: “What you ask? It’s the usual. You’ll know it when you see those fancy outfits.”

Townsman 2: “It’s a troupe parading and dancing through these streets.”

Townsman 1: “No. That’s not what I mean.”

Townsman 1: “Don’t you think it’s weird? It’s already midnight.”

The group, which always moved along with lively music, proceeded silently and glided in the darkness.

Seeing this, the witnesses felt as if they had stumbled upon a procession of ghosts.

Man 1 in the group: “Are you sure about this?”

Man 2 in the group: “Of course.”

Lifting their foreign-style hats, Kicho and Motonari gaze farther down the street.

Kicho: “First, we must take it back from the Oda.”

One week later一

(I think Sasuke is coming this evening.)

I paced down the hallway as I checked the date in my head.

(I know I said I didn't have much time, but I didn't need it.)

(I already had the answer in my head.)

(No matter what happens, I want to stay by Kicho's side.)

(I want to stay in this era and hope to meet him again.)

(I want to see him no matter how long it takes.)

The more I put the words in my heart, the more I wished for it.

However, as if to crush my positive attitude, no new information had come in yet.

(Maybe I should ask around while I send off the kimono.)

Ranmaru: "Lady Mai!"

Mai: "Ranmaru."

Ranmaru: "Everyone is coming back. Come with me!"

Mai: "Everyone? Whoa!"

He grabbed me by the arm, and we ran outside the castle.

(Ah...there they are!)

As soon as we stepped out of the castle gate, I saw the Oda army and immediately noticed that everyone was acting weird.

(What's with all the tension?)

(Wait, Mitsuhide is not here again.)

Hideyoshi: "Oh..."

Hideyoshi, who was talking with Nobunaga, noticed me from his horse and waved me over.

Mai: "Welcome back. Um, is something wrong?"

Hideyoshi: "Yeah, a lot's going on."

(A lot, huh? It doesn't sound like good news.)

Nobunaga: "Hideyoshi, we'll begin the war council immediately. Gather everyone in the hall."

Hideyoshi: "Yes, sir."

Mai: "Um, Nobunaga. Can I join you?"

Nobunaga: "Oh? You're curious?"

Nobunaga: "I suppose you want to see if the plan worked."

Mai: "Plan? Huh? What are you talking about?"

I tilted my head, not understanding what he was saying.

Nobunaga, seeing my reaction, looked away and continued on his way into the castle.

(Maybe he was just confirming something?)

Mitsunari: "Lady Mai, there's no need to look so anxious."

Mitsunari: "We're already aware of it, but we wanted to be on the lookout."

Mai: "What do you mean by that?"

Hideyoshi: "We can't say it here. I'll tell you the details in the hall."

Keiji: "Mai, Ranmaru, thanks for welcoming us! Let's go."

Ranmaru: "Okay."

Mai: "Got it."

As Nobunaga had instructed, everyone, including the warlords already in the castle, was gathered in the hall, and a war council was immediately held.

I also took a seat at the end of the room and checked on everyone.

(This tension reminds me of the war council after the bombardment of Azuchi Castle.)

(I’m scared to listen to them, but I can’t just turn and run away.)

I pushed down my unpleasant feeling and looked at Nobunaga.

Nobunaga: “I have news from Mitsuhide concerning the whereabouts of Kicho and Motonari.”

Nobunaga: “The trading post in Sakai has been attacked and is once again in their hands.”

Mai: “----!”

(Does that mean they took it back by force?)

Nobunaga: “I heard that a group dressed as a famous troupe broke into the trading post at night.”

Ieyasu: “Was it poorly guarded?”

Mitsunari: “I’ll answer that myself.”

Mitsunari: “First of all, we both inspected the trading post and the port.”

Mitsunari: “When we took over, they already moved all the weapons to another place.”

Mitsunari: “Therefore, we decided that it would no longer serve as a base, so we chose not to place more troops there.”

Masamune: “We’re still short-handed, so I think it’s a good decision.”

Masamune: “But that was not the case on the other side. They wanted to take back the trading post at any cost.”

Hideyoshi: “I don’t know what they want, but one thing is certain.”

Hideyoshi glanced at me with the slightest hint of hesitation.

Hideyoshi: “Kicho turned his army against the Oda.”

Mai: “............”

(Kicho was a man of convictions.)

(If he really went to talk with Motonari, he wouldn’t bend himself even if it failed.)

Mai: “So you’re saying that Kicho’s purpose was this all along?”

Mai: “To join forces with Motonari again?”

Hideyoshi: “Yes, that would be the case.”

Keiji: “But it’s weird. What the hell did he do that for?”

Keiji: “Taking over the trading post is like going out of your way to let us know where he is.”

Keiji: “I don’t think it’s worth the risk of taking it back.”

Ranmaru: “It’s as if he’s asking us to take a shot at it.”

Ieyasu: “What do you mean by that?”

Ranmaru: “Normally, I think it’s impossible, but I heard it in the reports.”

Ranmaru: “I heard that the movement of the rebels has started to change.”

(Ah...)

------------Flashback------------

Ranmaru: "It's like they have some other goal than destruction."

Ranmaru: "But we still don't know what that purpose is."

---------Flashback Ends---------

Hideyoshi: “Are you saying he’s doing this to direct the resentment and anger at him?”

Hideyoshi: “If that’s the case, I’m not sure what he’s after anymore. What does he want with it?”

Nobunaga: “Nonsense. You can ask him about his motives directly from his own mouth.”

Nobunaga: “If he dares to expose his location and point a gun at us, we know what to do.”

(Is that...?)

The hall fell silent, waiting for Nobunaga’s words.

Nobunaga: “Prepare for war. Next time, we will capture them.”

Everyone: “Yes, my lord.”

After the war council was over, I ran out of the castle feeling empty and found myself in the castle town, wandering through the streets with no place to go.

(I thought for sure I wanted information, but now I’m even more confused.)

Kicho knows about the future.

If that’s the case, he knows there’s no need to clash with Nobunaga.

(I can’t believe the words and feelings he exchanged with me were lies.)

(I wish I could meet him in person so I could hear what he has to say.)

Mai: “Hmm?”

I looked up in surprise at the scent wafting through the air.

(This smell...no, it can’t be.)

My legs started moving, even though I was denying it in my heart.

I ran into a back alley, where I found a person waiting for me, clad in a white haori.

The person then lifted his hat and slowly turned his eyes toward me.

Kicho: “Mai. It’s been a while.”

Mai: “Kicho!”

Mai: “Why are you here?”

Kicho: “I wanted to see you. That’s all.”

Mai: “I don’t understand what you mean by that.”

(You suddenly disappear with no explanation, reappear as an enemy, and now you're throwing something like this in my face as if it's normal.)

Several words float and burst out, finally coming out to my throat.

(I...no, I also...)

Mai: "I missed you so much."

I found myself jumping into his chest.

Kicho: "Mai."

Mai: "Please. Let's stay like this for a while."

I found his scent behind the sweet aroma and couldn't resist burying my face in his chest even more.

It was a fleeting scent I would forget as soon as I left. But as I touched the person I loved, it sank deep into my memory.

Mai: "Please don't tell me you just wanted to see my face."

Mai: "I wanted to see your face, talk to you, and touch you."

(I don't care what it takes to feel him.)

(No, I want it all.)

Kicho: "I see."

Kicho: "Then I should be a little more honest with you."

He took the bamboo hat he was wearing and hid both of our heads, blocking the light coming in from the main street.

Kicho: "I've always wanted to see your face, speak to you, and touch you."

Kicho: "Always."

Mai: "Mhm."

Standing on my tiptoes, I welcomed the warmth I'd been waiting for.

The happy moment almost made my body hot, and I felt like I could do this forever.

Previous Part╏Masterlist╏Next Part

[jodyjamesbrenton]

Not dead, just busy. Mostly been working on writing and planning, and the odd hasty sketch. Ah, but I have to post something, so here’s this.

Top right text is song lyrics from “Veneficium” by Lacuna Coil. Mostly just a mood note for myself. I've been putting most of my effort into Threads and Instagram the past year, and it feels like pulling teeth; if I'm inactive for a day, nobody sees me, and the near 500 followers I supposedly have don't mean jack diddly squat if my art is still being seen there by a single-digit number of people. Meanwhile, I post a single-digit number of times on here, and somehow there's 50 to 100 notifications every time I come back. Feels like I've been beating my head against a brick wall instead of walking through an open door. Got me thinking I should change my posting priorities.

Social media is a chore and I hate doing it, but it feels like all the other avenues for artists have been walled off by our technocratic dystopian nightmare hellscape.

Well, I do like to write longer explanations and ramblings about what I'm working on, so I'll be a lot more active on here going forward. I'll also be tagging posts with the title of the related project. Not trying to make myself a hashtag or any other delusion of fame, I just think it's a good idea for the sake of organization.

I've had an idea for a cover or poster stuck in my head for a long time now. This isn't exactly what I envisioned, but the pose I was thinking of before felt more hopeless and world-weary, while the pose I'm moving toward in the sketches is more dangerous. Sadie is the sort of person who chooses violence, so this just wound up feeling more 'honest' to the character.

I started planning this comic way back in 2019, and it's been through some turbulent changes since then. It was supposed to be a short spoof of harem rom-coms like Bokuben, with a protagonist who was too blunt and direct to let any misunderstandings get out of hand. One of the heroines wound up being so dominant a personality that she wound up stealing away the Protagonist role. Inspired by Tristan & Isolde, it shifted into a darker comedy about people falling in love after one plotted to murder the other.

That plan also fell by the wayside. I've thought of ways to explain the transformation (and transformation certainly the word I think fits best) of my story. The word I've settled on is "honesty." Writing the characters as sources of comedy, and the circumstances as humorous (albeit amid grim topics) felt dishonest.

I'm aware some authors have described their characters as imaginary friends, or real people met through some communion with another world. I don't know that I would be so prosaic. Rather, as my pen is laying down a description of a scene, some quieter part of my mind speaks up and corrects me, tells me "no, that isn't what would happen, no she wouldn't do that, no no no, you're lying. This world and these people simply aren't the way you want them to be." That's what I mean by 'honest' writing. I am discovering, consciously, what my unconscious mind has already decided on.

I wanted to write a story that was light and fluffy and palatable and marketable, but if I did, I would be lying through my art. I'm ashamed, to some degree, of what I'm making. Sadie is an evil person in an evil world; a monster that can only be sympathized with by contrast of the monsters that surround her. It's edgy, and grim, and all the things I dislike as a reader, all the things that are too easy to lean on when writing shallow slop. I worry that my life's work will be looked at as a mistake, or the pathetic arrested juvenilia of a man too ignorant of his own limits to expand them. But to correct these things, to sand away the rough burrs of raw metal would be to bury the truth of it. An ugly, awful monster is clawing its bloody way into the world through me, and to persist in trying to change it is to lie about the nature of the thing.

The story begins in a setting that is familiar enough: a city. A wide, flat city built on industry, with veins full of crime and a beating heart of greed. At the outset, Sadie's world is figuratively destroyed. From there, she becomes a bottomless hole in the bottom of the world, pulling and tearing at reality until it crumbles and disappears. By the end of the story, she will have burned the world to the ground and swallowed a potion of its ashes. And, if I tell this ugly, honest story effectively, if my mad gambit pans out, I hope my readers will cheer for this monster.

For posterity, I want to acknowledge some influences. I mentioned Bokuben, and I'll shout out Nisekoi. They were still the first step, even if the final product might be unrecognizable, but their DNA is in here somewhere.

Next, H.P. Lovecraft and Robert E. Howard. Lovecraft for his namesake cosmic horrors, the fear of something beyond all comprehension noticing us, to our detriment. Howard for Conan The Barbarian, Sword and Sorcery, the progenitor of dark fantasy -- and personally, most of all, for the poem "The Symbol" the terrible apocalyptic mood of which seems most relevant of all.

Nadia Bulkin's story "Red Goat, Black Goat" provided a great deal to the existential threat at the core of the story, and also gave me the name and motif for my villain, "Mother." I won't spoil the story more than I have to, to make my point. Go read it, go buy Nadia's books, she is phenomenal. A character exclaims "The goat is our real mother! She is everyone's *real* mother!" This declaration follows some truly shocking violence, and that horror, that usurping, and that cruel sense of possession and ownership, was the seed that sprouted into my own monstrosity.

In T.E.D. Klein's novella, "Nadelman's God," the title character (in his youth) conjectures that God is not loving, but cruel. That He must delight in pain and suffering, that the world is a torture chamber fashioned by an omnipotent sadist. As a middle-aged man, Nadelman experiences a series of inexplicable episodes involving a rock band, a stalker, and a golem of garbage that compound to suggest his younger self may have been closer to the truth than he ever believed. He has, indirectly, created an avatar through which this Hungering God can directly inflict pain and suffering on victims, no longer trapped outside and forced to suggest its cruelty, it is now free to walk the world and distribute its murderous miracles in a more intimate fashion. The story ends with Nadelman in a mad panic to escape the deity he prophesied, running into a synagogue and hiding among the people attending Sunday service. I was underwhelmed by the conclusion, but came to appreciate it more as I thought about it in the days and years after. Is he only looking to escape the physical threat, or is he desperately trying to find the faith he rejected now that he's been exposed to something that makes it impossible? While Nadia Bulkin provided me with an aesthetic and motif for my villain, Klein inspired her motivations. I am, at this point, spoiling a story I plan to tell over the course of the next decade of my life. Oh well.

A small aside, the choice of a spear is inspired by Moby Dick, first and foremost. Ahab challenges God, with a spear forged from the steel of horseshoe nails and used razor blades, tempered in fire stoked by the oil of dead flesh and quenched not in water but human blood, and set to its purpose with the dedication "Ego non baptizo te in nomine patris, sed in nomine diaboli!" -- I baptize you not in the name of The Father, but in the name of The Devil. Have you read Moby Dick? It's the most Heavy Metal thing I've ever seen, it's absolutely apocalyptic.

Lastly, I want to mention a broader concept. Not the work of one author, but a religious motif I find fascinating. Chaos, and Chaoskampf. Chaos, in the Greek Cosmogony, was the Prime Material from which all of reality was forged. All that we can observe, all that exists in our world, our universe, our reality, is Order. All the infinite bottomless darkness beyond our comprehension, is Chaos. It is a difficult concept to describe because, as beings of Order, we cannot observe or comprehend Chaos. Perhaps understanding it would destroy us outright, tear apart our material and return it to the Absolute Nothing the creator sculpted into us. Chaoskampf, then, is an extrapolated concept, tell me if you've heard this one before: a great dragon or serpent, rising from water and breathing fire, does battle with a warrior god, who wields lightning, at the outset of the world. The god destroys the dragon, and uses its bones and blood as the foundation of the world. When the time comes for the world to end, the dragon returns, destroys the warrior that had vanquished it and proceeds to burn, break, drown or swallow the world. Chaoskampf is not exclusive the Greeks and Romans, but also found in Judaism Christianity and Islam, as well as Shintoism, Hinduism, Norse Odinism, Dynastic Egypt, virtually every civilization that descended from the migration out of Africa along the Kurgan Hypothesis. I am, by no means, writing an exhaustive list of the cultures that exhibit the motif. Please understand that I'm not intending to besmirch anyone's culture, history or faith, nor am I implying that the events hinted at truly happened in my grossly simplified description; I am, in broad strokes, gushing about something so vast and obscure that it feels truly Lovecraftian, truly Cosmic, while still very much being a part of our material reality. Whether you believe any of these accounts directly, it is readily observable that these parallels exist. And what I find most compelling is the conflict itself.

Post script, I've realized that Moby Dick invokes the motif of Chaoskampf, even directly referring to the whale with the title "Leviathan," the name of the sea-serpent that God recalls battling in the book of Job; but has Ahab and the Whale reflecting one another, both of them being great Destroyers, both of them being things of the primordial sea.

And, as I'm sure some readers will have realized, Chaoskampf is also the inspiration for Dragon's Dogma, The Elder Scrolls, and (I'm sure) countless other works of fantasy fiction and their mythological frameworks. It's an infectious idea. A memetic virus that replicates, mutates, and transmits. The tendency to repeat and shift while remaining recognizable across languages and cultures and whole millennia, that's what I love about the whole thing.

Hinduism, in particular, holds that the world begins and ends with the Naga, Ananta Shesha, swallowing the world. The world exists in cycles, or Kalpas, wherein the creation of a world cannot begin without the destruction of its predecessor. Unpleasant perhaps for the people alive at the end, but an inevitable and inextricable component of creation.

So here is Sadie Doherty. An ordinary girl, and the end of the world. A dragon whose rage and hate is beyond all mete and fathom. To write her as anything else would be a lie.

[nyxrev]

Tsukuyomi Trilogy

Chapter II: Icarus

A boy who flew too close to the sun

………….————- *Moon Craters Highway radio,

Welcome back. Last time we left off at eugenics and esp tricks. Buckle your seatbelts folks we're about to go downhill. Full throttle ahead with an Eastward turbulence.

“From our surveillance data…” *!!!* **red flag**

…eh? we could't even grasp the battle situation (much less catch any data) on our end though?

With the sisters held hostage, our moon agent releases Demon level monsters from the floor below. Now, exactly how much he knows about the HA floor plan idk, but the extent to which he is familiar with mechanisms of what we can see should already draw concern, if earlier mention of their “data” did not already perk up our ears.

Unfortunately, though execs felt brief confusion they brush off their uneasy sentiment, and soon forget about it as the agent thanks them for the valuable “specimen” and their focus is drawn to money matters.

The fact they don't immediately feel suspicious, nor try to discreetly ask an outsider about how they acquired such extensive data on what was supposed to be so secretive an operation, even their own people could not get data, and are so gullibly unwary of the outsider with undisclosed data to proceed “trades”, not only exposes how desperate for funds they are, it also exposes their catastrophic lack of critical awareness. Smb boutta get caught for gross negligence, except them execs will prolly get let off easy.

See, the world runs on money most luxurious of which often acquired through nefarious means. Sure, money can buy you comfort and security, but comes with an equally expensive cost. Well, you could buy comfort, but you might soon find out you pay for it… For example, perhaps we are already *quite very* familiar with circumstances of compromised critical security… You see…we can't let you have both at once now, can we…

The agent prepares to make his grand exit, and as he juggles the psychic sisters he declares all smug, “nobody would question the de*th of the witch sisters anytime soon, now would they?”

Excuse me young man I wholly disagree. In fact everyone who knows them would question their de* th more than anyone else's for no one would believe they'd go down so easily to some caged monsters. You should know better by now, what with Tatsumaki as an indispensable pillar of HA, and Fubuki an influential figure.

Cosmic Mad Hatter and the Oreo Hoops Boy

…A new party emerges from the suited group…and leaves the fray. Eyelashes shouts, enraged, “so You're the bastard…” who dr—gged Fubuki. Outrageous. Traitor. I mean, can you really call him traitor when he'd always been a spy?

It'd do well for Blizzard regulars to stay together get to know each other well so they can discern who (among them & out) is trustworthy.

Furious, they attack n I realized it's the first time I've seen Eyelashes' we.*pon, I always wondered how he'd fight with a pair of eyelash curlers. Not so benign a cosmetic tool now, eh?

But they're no match for psychic retaliation…Oh and doesn't Mad Hatter look like Choze there? Eyes of eugenic superiority complex.

Fubuki cares about her subordinates and I hope she cares about them as people and not assets, as I'm sure they each can learn and grow strong enough to hold their own, to truly help her grow as a person as well.

At the critical moment, Saitama crashes out of the monster den with his usual punch, shock on every face present, but distraction is fatal for an agent on mission and Tatsumaki seizes an open defence to strike. As expected, she would never let herself be compromised for naught.

“Found it” she reclaims autonomy…and oh how the tables have turned. All while she was bound, she located the p!ll. Smart.

silent agent panic “the capsule won't react…!?” Of course not, once Tatsumaki has control, you will never be able to reclaim control over it. Behold her power and precision, amateur.

What happens next, we all know. He gets gently poked 3x by 1 lil p!ll n-—-dle.

Excellent now your brilliant plan backfired most disastrously, you*&*your cult is humiliated, and I'm stuck here with you for the next 24hr as you try to rush to a psychic hospital if it even exists.

Why did he turn two shades darker as he teeter-totters two steps away from de*th, oh pois0ned bl*-*d mb. Tbh, at first I thought mb the p!ll was just sleep, and he said it had poison to bluff, but his pitiful state now, doesn't look too well. Hope you not allergic or got antidote for whatever it is

“Look I'll have you spit out all you know about Tsukuyomi later, you hear me” Now you rly see and feel the terror of tornado, right next to you.

I, too, want to t0rment you gently, for you made the most careless mistakes and lost your prizes.

Fly next to the Sun too keen and get burnt.

As Tatsumaki, at full threat, makes our poor fool of an agent spill the beans I can't help but recall an uncanny similarity between Apollo and Amai when he got poked by Do-S. Look at him, vessels emerged, almost monstrous.

Makes you wonder what they did to them, what happened under the kn!fe to get their artificially activated psychic power and how they maintain or strengthen it, right? I wouldn't be surprised if they did contact God on the Moon to get power or try to anyway. Maybe some of them, artificial psychics, are even monsterized for their hunger for power. Just a stray thought but I do wonder.

Now Apollo's mission to the Moon is honourably jeopardized, his failure might get him fired who knows, but Tatsumaki rightly spares no pity nor mercy and not only keeps enemy compromised but gets the job done thorough and through, all the way to the last precautionary step.

The spy, he manages to slip out of house arrest, but gets no pass and is thrown on the wall most gracefully as he makes meagre attempt to run.

My humour is broken as Garou's hut but I found it funny he just went “Bu-” … if you squint extra hard his knocked out form might even look a lil bit like the shape of ぶッ bahaha

On a serious note, I didn't expect Tsukuyomi to get their prizes or even escape unscathed, but I did wish they proved trickier to defeat, not* bc I want to see Tatsumaki suffer (MA was :'|) but bc I want to see her be decently challenged, not to traumatic extent, but by what challenges her to problem solve and use her smarts as well as but more than brute strength. To see her grow from catalytic challenges or experiences, so she is no longer so stubborn to fend for herself, her sister & co. alone, but can learn to work with and trust others, like we saw with Genos.

Let's stop here for now. Next chapter will be the last. It is short, but I should like to address what will prompt more questions than answers.

…^^^vroom vroom zoomies on highway to hell*

Pardon my weird amount of text censors. It got flagged or whatever it's called last time n idk what triggers the algorithm so. I had to crop out the first two panels of the scene where he got backfired literally cuz idk if photos also trigger the system. But the first two were most obvious similarity to Amai's broken mask so ifykyk

[believingispowerfulmagic]

Miracles Can Happen

Summary: On July 16, 2013, Regina Mills and her son Henry boarded Storybrooke Airlines Flight 815 from Orlando to New York. Robin Locksley boarded the same flight. During the flight, a moment of bad turbulence rattles the passengers. But it gets worse when they land and find out that they’ve somehow flown five years into the future.

Now the passengers must navigate a world that has moved on without them and find where they belong in it. While they started as strangers, Robin and Regina soon find themselves relying on each other as they try to figure out what happened to them. And as they do, they start to wonder if maybe it all happened for a reason.

Chapter 1: FFN | AO3 | Wattpad

Chapter 6: Issues

FFN | AO3 | Wattpad

Excerpt:

Robin moved in with Regina. Her father was still wary of him as his first impression hadn't been the best but her son was thrilled to have Robin with them. Their experience on the plane and their stay at Stewart Air Base really bonded them all. And though David still played a role in Henry's life, Regina was glad he had another male figure to look up to.

He was also able to spend more time with Henry than David could for now. Robin only worked part time and when he wasn't working, he often took Henry to different places. Sometimes they went to the movies together, other times to the park, and sometimes to the rec center so Henry could play basketball. Robin also started to teach him how to play soccer and Henry had quickly picked it up, even considering playing it in the fall. Regina was glad to see him adjusting and being hopeful about something.

She also started to get to know Roland as well. Robin had him a couple afternoons a week and every Saturday. He was a sweet little boy and it seemed he felt freer to bond with his father now.

Robin had told her the whole story when he returned to her house after his meeting with Marian. Her heart had broken for him, thinking of the weeks lost with his son because of Mulan. She was not a fan of her or Marian, feeling both had treated Robin poorly - difficult and unprecedented situation understood. Watching Robin with Henry and then Roland, it was clear he was a natural father and Mulan had been wrong.

At least Marian was giving him time with his son. It was a start.

"Have you and Marian agreed on a therapist yet?" she asked him, sitting down on the couch as they watched TV together.

He nodded. "We're going to see Dr. Hopper. He already knows about what happened with the plane and so that's one hurdle already cleared."

"Dr. Hopper seems to be good," Regina replied. "I like going to him and I wasn't one for therapy before all of this."

"I never thought I'd be in therapy or need family counseling, but here we are," he said, sighing as he ran his hand over his hair. "Hopefully, he can help me make sense of all this."

She nodded, lowering the TV as she angled her body to face him. "Did you know that Marian had an interest in women?"

"Yes," he replied. "I actually met her through one of her ex-girlfriends. I told you I don't care that she's with a woman and I mean it. My problem isn't with who Mulan is but what she did."

"I didn't think so. I just thought that maybe if this was a side of herself that she had discovered while you were gone, maybe she had been hesitant to tell you that she wasn't exactly straight. It's hard to come out to people," she said, tucking some hair behind her ear as she thought about when she told her parents about her own sexuality.

Robin tilted his head as he studied her. "You're bi too?"

She nodded. "Though it's been a while since I dated a woman. My last two relationships were with men."

"Doesn't matter," he replied. "Or at least that's my understanding of it. You're bi no matter who you're dating."

"You're right. There are lots of people who don't seem to understand that," she said.

He shrugged. "Fuck them."

That caught her off-guard and she let out a little laugh. "What?"

"They don't want to understand so fuck them. They aren't worth any of your energy," he told her.

"You're right," she said, smiling. "I knew I liked you for a reason."

He chuckled. "Thanks."

They lapsed into silence as they turned their attention back to the TV. It was a comfortable silence, though, and that surprised Regina. She usually did not handle silence well and often tried to fill it with chatter. But with Robin, she didn't feel that urge. Or maybe it was just another way the flight had changed her as well.

She moved closer to him and rested her head on his shoulder. He patted her knee before leaving his hand there. They continued to watch the episode, just content to sit there with each other.

"Regina?" Daddy's voice made her jump and she moved away from Robin as she looked up to find her father standing in the doorway. His head was tilted and he frowned.

Tucking some hair behind her ear, she asked: "Is something wrong, Daddy?"

"I just wanted to let you know I was going to bed," he said, his gaze hardening as he looked at Robin.

"Goodnight, sir," Robin replied, trying to be as polite as possible.

Annoyed, Regina got up from the couch and ushered her father out into the hall. She stood there, crossing her arms. "Will you stop glaring at Robin like he's some sort of criminal?" she asked.

"I am not doing that," he protested. At the same time, though, he refused to meet her eyes.

"Yes, you are," she said. "This is his home for now and I want him to feel comfortable here."

Daddy sighed, looking up at her. "There's nowhere else he can stay? He has no other friends?"

"It's a bit complicated. His trust in them is a bit strained because they knew about his wife's new relationship and didn't tell him," she said in a low voice. "So he feels comfortable with me. And I'd like it if you didn't run him off."

He sighed. "Sorry, honey. I'm just worried."

"Why? I know he didn't make the best first impression but he just found out his wife was lying to him since he returned and he's not an alcoholic…"

"I know he's not an alcoholic," Daddy replied, frowning. "True, he didn't make the greatest first impression but I realized it was a once in a blue moon bender."

That surprised her and her arms dropped to her side as she tilted her head. "Then why are so hostile toward him?"

Daddy sighed. "You two are pretty close."

"Yes, we are. What we went through really bonded us. Robin was there for me and Henry both on the plane and in the bunker," she replied, not sure where her father was going with this.

"And I'm grateful for that," he insisted. "I just worry. You both feel betrayed by people you love and just had significant relationships end."

She frowned, trying to figure out why her father brought that up. It then clicked and she blinked a couple times. "You think we're dating?"

He shook his head. "I don't think you're dating but I do think you two have already bonded over a shared trauma and that you two are getting closer. I just want you to be careful and not to rush into anything before your hearts have time to heal."

"Daddy, we're just friends," she stressed. "Nothing more."

"And I'm not quite ready to throw in the towel on my marriage," Robin said, standing in the doorway. He held up his hands. "Sorry, I didn't mean to eavesdrop but you weren't as quiet as I think you thought you were."

Both Daddy and Regina grew sheepish and he held out his hand to Robin. "Sorry. For talking about you behind your back and for being so cold to you. While I was concerned for my daughter, it does not excuse my behavior."

"Thank you," Robin said, shaking his hand. "And I understand. You're just protecting your daughter. I promise you I have no intentions of hurting her."

Daddy nodded. "I know. Thank you."

He then stepped back. "Sorry to disturb your night. I'll see you in the morning."

"Goodnight, sir," Robin said. Regina echoed that and kissed her father's cheek before he headed upstairs.

She then turned to Robin, feeling awkward. "I'm so sorry about that."

"It's okay," he assured her, gently squeezing her arm. "Why don't we finish watching that show?"

"That sounds good to me," she replied, following him back into the living room.

They settled back down on the couch and he wrapped his arm around her. She rested her head against his shoulder once more. Friends could sit like this, she told herself. Especially if they were comfortable with each other. It didn't mean anything more than that.

She let out a contented sigh and pushed away the awkward feelings her father's conversation brought up. It was likely more people would wonder if there was more between her and Robin in the coming days once they learned where he was living now but she knew she just had to stick to the facts and the curiosity would fade away.

Hopefully.