#to make sure he has the best life possible

[shinra-makonoid]

In a lot of cases, exercice does in fact help, I'm not sure I know of a chronic illness that isn't helped by exercice to be fair. Your bones and articulations will give you pain if you don't exercice. Your muscles will be stuck and uncomfortable and hurt if you don't exercice. Your heart and lungs will be less ok if you don't exercice. Your mental health suffers from not exercising. We need to move just like we need to breathe, eat, drink and sleep. Exercice has been linked to less pain in general, and it works for things that usually don't work with meds, like for example fibromyalgia.

The meaning that you put behind "exercice" doesn't need to be high or heavy. Cleaning your house is exercice. Cooking is exercice. Stretching is exercice (and a very good one at that, probably one of the best if you can't really move a lot). Walking in the street is exercice. Climbing stairs is exercice. Singing is exercice. Gardening is exercice. What matters is that you find the exercice that is corresponding to what you can do and what you're willing to give, something you can manage to keep doing and enjoy doing. It's infinitely better if you do 30 mins gardening every two days rather than one 30 mins run every 2 years because it took you one week for your body to recover from your run that you hated with all your gut the whole 30 mins of it. There is absolutely no need to do something you hate, and there is absolutely no need for you to struggle or hurt while doing it, it doesn't have to be long, you don't have to perform, or prove anything, or be seen by anyone if you don't want to.

It doesn't have to be 60 reps of push ups, doesn't have to be 100lbs of dumbells, doesn't have to be running, it doesn't have to be yoga. And let me tell you as someone who didn't run for so so so long, it took me at least 6 months of running once every week for 30 mins before I could stop hurting everywhere from my feet to my ankles to my lower back after a session, because my body was not used to it, and running, especially on concrete, is very traumatic for the body (and tbh I don't recommend it). It takes such a long time to remake your body in a way that can handle some intense exercices, like legit months, sometimes years. But every little bit that is conquered and done, even if it's a walk of 5 mins in the street every week, will be a net positive in the long run.

When you haven't done exercice for a while, it is traumatic for your body to go through it again. Bones for example are shaped by exercice/movements and are cued to grow and fix itself through exercice, but it takes a long time to actually shape the bones and make it fix itself and grow stronger. So if you stopped exercising for a long time, your bones will not handle it the way someone who's used to those movements is. It takes time, you have to go extremely slow and listen to your body. But it will most probably make your life easier on the long run and help against your chronic illnesses and your pain. It most probably won't cure you, but it might prevent more issues, more pain, more difficulties, and will probably give you more autonomy with years (whether it's from muscles, bones, heart, lungs or brain).

It's not a bad thing we encourage people to exercice, we just gotta be mindful about what we mean when we say exercice. Because yes, someone who cannot go out of the door of their apartment and hasn't been doing so for 3 years won't be going running any time soon or doing complicated yoga poses, and nobody should expect that and it's even dangerous to expect that.

And if you don't know where to begin, here's a possibility, he's nice and shows different levels, and it's in his kitchen:

If you don't like it, don't do it. I for one would never do the one that is on the picture because I find it extremely uncomfortable. Pick and choose what you want to do, don't complete everything, do your own things that feel ok, stop whenever you feel like it. Find what works and what you enjoy, test things out and don't be too hard on yourself. Set the lowest bar that you could possibly imagine, forgive yourself if you fail, find out why it didn't work and adjust to your body's/brain capacities. Find people who will accompany you in it (community helps). Treat yourself when you did something, even if it's minimal to yourself. It has to make you feel free and not make you feel trapped.

If you're interested in getting to know what kind of exercice you should be doing according to your issues and illnesses, please talk to your doctor about it. They might have ideas to help.

we as a society have got to stop prescribing exercise as a universal cure for chronic illness. yes exercise can be extremely beneficial for certain chronic conditions, especially under the guidance of a physical therapist or physiotherapist. how and ever acting like exercise will undoubtedly reduce the symptoms of every single chronic illness on the face of the planet just isn't it. exercise is even known to worsen the symptoms brought about by certain illnesses and disabilities, and can have detrimental effects if not approached with the utmost care. 'exercise can be beneficial for certain conditions' well yes. 'exercise will have a 100% positive impact on any and all chronic illness' no no nope and also no

[hopelesswrites]

Double Shot Extra Sweet

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: your restless heart finally settles down when a grumpy man enters your work for his morning coffee.

Note: shes longer, shes got an age gap, shes got potential for more? (Let me know how you feel about this plz)

-

Being the new girl in a workplace wasn’t unnatural for you. You had jumped from job to job for the past year, never being able to settle into one place. You passed it off as a quarter life crisis. Every decision you made seemed to be a result of this crisis, you had moved cities and changed degrees, all because one day after turning 25 you had a hunch you were on the wrong path. A year later and you were in this big new city, on your third cafe job because the other two didn’t vibe with you.

This place however was looking promising. It was a small shop sandwiched between a laundromat and a news stand. The owner Emma was a bubbly older woman with red cat eye glasses and long red acrylics. You learned quite quickly just by the decor of the cafe she was a big fan of cats. Despite the tacky cat shaped clock and the “good meowning” doormat the shop was tastefully designed. It was warm and inviting much like going to your grandmother’s house for tea. The part of the shop you loved the most though was the small free library box out the front. You had taken a small romance book the day you went in for your interview, noting the out of place “theoretical physics” book and a biography on Carl Gauss.

Your first week on the job went by quickly and you seemed to adjust to the clientele easily, most being early morning professionals on their commute to work.

In addition, you quickly decided your co-worker Charlotte would be your new best friend, so after the first rush hour of the morning you both got back to chatting about your lives.

“I swear to god, my brain has been so muddled lately, my classes are so difficult, and I can’t believe I had to ask Mr Wilson 3 times what milk he wanted, I just can’t concentrate its getting concerning” you rambled just as a tall man approached the counter.

“Good morning! What can I get you today?” You spoke happily, noticing the frown etched onto the man’s face. It deepened when he looked around the cafe then back at you.

“Is Lisa not working today?” He asked, ignoring your question. You frowned back at him, noticing how increasingly uncomfortable he was getting.

“I’m sorry, she moved back home to look after her father, but you’ve got me most mornings, I promise I make a good coffee” you encouraged, hoping this man didn’t become your first upset customer at this new job.

He seemed to take a moment to think, eyeing you cautiously before giving you his order. You carefully inputted the order into the till before pulling out a cup.

“Name for the order?” You asked, raking through a list of names you think this guy could possibly have.

Richard? No

Steve? Absolutely not

Lucas? Maybe..

“Spencer”

You raised your eyebrow at him, not what you expected, but it suited him.

“Won’t be too long Spencer” you motioned for him to wait to the side of the counter while you made his coffee. You quietly observed him while you worked. He stood so stiffly, looking around the room as if to look busy. He was older, at least in his late 30s and had the sharpest jawline you think you had ever seen. Somehow, his strong bone structure was softened with fluffy curls framing his face. Honestly, you thought he was gorgeous, if only he loosened the scrunch he seemed to permanently have between his eyebrows.

“Spencer?” You called, sliding his coffee towards him on the counter. His head snapped towards you, frown not slipping as he reached out for it. You watched him inspect the cup, you made sure the lid was on tight, no spills. He took a tentative sip, you can practically see the cogs turning in his head, deciding if you were worthy of the job, making his morning coffee.

“Good?” You asked, suddenly a wave of nerves washing over you.

Spencer looked at you, and you swear you saw the line between his brows twitch and the corners of his lips turn up a tad.

“Yeah good, thanks” he answered before leaving.

For the rest of the day, you couldn’t stop thinking about Spencer. You had a deep desire to know everything about him, but in the same thought, you loved the mystery, it almost made him hotter.

He looked bookish, his old man cardigan giving him an English teacher vibe, but he had this look in his eyes that told you he didn’t spend all day talking about Shakespeare. You also noted his need for routine, your presence this morning obviously throwing him off. You hoped you had proven yourself worthy of being a part of his routine though, because you could get used to him being a part of yours.

-

The following day Spencer returned, instead of a cardigan he had on a brown blazer, one of those ones with the patches on the elbows, it was a cute look you thought.

As you suspected, Spencer was all business, sticking to his routine, same coffee order, stood in the same spot to the side of the counter, you were sure he even looked around the room in the same methodical way he did the day before.

You called his name out, he took a sip, he told you it was good and then he left.

This went on for the rest of your week, and it was this daily interaction that had you deciding you were in the right job finally. You woke up and were finally excited to go to work, you just wanted to see that grumpy older man.

Naturally, you started to romanticise the interactions, you were just a girl after all, a hopeless romantic who lived vicariously through the couples in romance novels. You could already picture the ao3 tags if this were a fanfiction. #agegapromance #grumpymmc #cafemeetcute.

The first day Spencer didn’t show up was the following Wednesday, and you declared it the worst day of your life. In fact, your headache returned the second the clock ticked 8am and your favourite grumpy troubled English teacher hadn’t walked through the door. You held your breath for another 10 minutes, maybe he was running late, and he would rush in hair dishevelled, tie askew, face flushed. But you were left disappointed for the rest of your day.

Thursday was much the same, in fact, Thursday had you writing up your resignation letter in your head, clearly this job wasn’t right for you.

Come Friday you were well and truly ready to admit yourself into the emergency room. Your headache was almost excruciating, you couldn’t muster a single smile for your customers. So, when it was well past 9am, the morning work commuters were at their respective jobs and the door chimed your frown stuck in place, you barely looked up when the customer walked up to the counter.

“Are you still getting that headache?” The man spoke, snapping you back into reality.

“Excuse me?” You looked up at Spencer, eyes wide. He was here, and your life had purpose again!

“You said you were getting headaches last week and you look in pain, I thought maybe you were still getting them”

You barely acknowledged the fact that Spencer had been listening to your conversation with Charlotte or that he could tell you were actively fighting a headache right then, all you could think about was he was here, in the softest looking sweater vest, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He looked incredible, a real life angel.

“Probably just not drinking enough water” you brush it off, pulling out a cup from your stack and writing Spencers order on the side.

“Headaches can also be caused by lifestyle choices, high stress and anxiety, bad diet and even posture” Spencer explained. This was the most you’d ever heard him speak. His voice was like velvet, you thought if he was one of your college professors you would have no trouble learning your course content.

“Is my posture bad?” You asked suddenly insecure, pulling your shoulders back a bit on instinct.

“Not the worst, but if you’re studying and hunched over a desk all day that could cause your headaches”

You didn’t know how to explain your headache had suddenly disappeared in his return and it was obviously psychological, so you nodded in agreement.

Still, curious, you wanted to prod for more information on his whereabouts, his addition to your routine becoming increasingly important to you.

“Where have you been all week? I was starting your think you found another barista”

Spencer looked up at you, eyes wide at the continuation of conversation, obviously assuming your exchange would end at the headaches.

“I sometimes have to go away for work”

Curious, you thought. What English teacher travels for work? Maybe he was a guest lecturer at universities.

“I’ve been trying to guess what you do for work” you chuckle while you popped the lid on his drink.

“And? What have you come up with?”

You take a moment to consider your answer. “One guess a day, no hints. My original thought was English teacher, you look studious”

A small smile crept its way onto Spencers face. He took the drink straight from your hand this time. “Not an English teacher, better luck next week”

Spencer had long left the cafe before it hit you, he knew your work schedule. He knew you didn’t work weekends.

Those 2 days off were excruciating. You couldn’t wait to see Spencer Monday morning. You had so many ideas in your head. He seemed to know about headaches which had you thinking about what medical professionals travel for work.

When Spencer returned you wasted no time. “Do I get to know what circumstances you’re travelling for?”

Spencer smirked, “you’re the one that said no hints”

You huffed in annoyance but continued your routine in making Spencers drink. “Fine, brain surgeon”

Spencer scoffed, “not a brain surgeon, no”

You shrugged your shoulders, “maybe you’re a highly awarded brain surgeon and have to travel to different hospitals to perform high risk operations” you felt the need to justify your decision. Spencer smiled at you, “no it’s a good guess”

Tuesday you tried for architect, which puzzled Spencer, you had to explain he gave off a prestigious aura, “you look like you could measure walls with just your eyes” you told him.

“I am very good with numbers” he replied. You had to scold him for giving you an unwarranted hint but kept numbers in mind.

The rest of the week was the same. “Engineer” “no” “data analyst” “no”. you were getting frustrated, and you felt no closer to knowing Spencer than you were that first day.

The following Monday you spotted Spencer outside the cafe, he had stopped at the library box. You watched him put a book in and take one out, stuffing it under his arm before entering the store. You recognised the book immediately; it was an old textbook of yours that you had bought for your course. You only donated it to the library because you had bought the latest edition and didn’t need that one anymore.

“I didn’t take you for an archaeology kind of guy” you joked, pointing at the book.

“I find it fascinating actually, the study of archaeological context has aided in solving many cold case murders”

“I know, it’s my book, I’m studying forensic archaeology” you laughed. Spencer quirked a brow, “how are you enjoying it?”

“It’s fun actually, I like that I feel like I’m actually going to make a difference with my career one day”

Spencer nodded along, obviously wanting to say something else but bites his tongue. “You haven’t had your guess today”

You rolled your eyes, already getting fed up with your own game. You were about to make your guess when Spencers phone chimed. He pulled it out of his coat and frowned at the screen, the first frown you’d seen from him since that first week.

“I’m sorry, I have to go” Spencer rushed, taking his drink from you. “I’ll be away for a couple days, by the way” He gave you a sad smile, “keep working on your guess, I know you’ll figure it out” and then he was gone.

Your world felt like it slowed right down, and you had been forced back to reality. The rest of the week dragging on. Work, no Spencer, late night lectures, sleep, repeat. Come Saturday Charlotte had decided you were going out clubbing to forget “that nerdy dilf” as she put it. You had to explain to her that the ‘nerdy dilf’ was actually a super complex and interesting man who you were growing very fond of seeing every day. This didn’t help your case, and she declared you needed “dick your own age”

Safe to say you were not excited to go out.

The club was one of the bigger venues in town, one of those places with booths you could hire out and bottle service, not exactly your crowd. Charlotte on the other hand was having a blast and had found a group of guys to flirt with. They had their own booth right by the door, you saw them as you walked in, they were observing the room like a bunch of creeps hunting for prey. Carmen seemed to be the ringleader and found a keen interest in Charlotte, his friend Jesse deciding to take on the challenge of flirting with you. There was one other guy who had a girl you didn’t know latched to his hip, Charlotte said her name was Angela, she was clearly wasted and could barely stand, but seemed comfortable enough with the guys, you assumed they knew each other.

The night seemed to drag on and Jesse seemed to get increasingly pushy. You were ready to leave and excused yourself to grab Charlotte, you watched as Carmen noticed you approaching the two and gestured towards Jesse who was close behind you. Before you realised what was happening you were being grabbed from around the waist and dragged over to the door. The man with Angela was already by the door and you watched him disappear into the street with her cluelessly following.

“What are you doing?” You struggled in Jesses grip, looking over to Charlotte for help, she had her head on Carmens chest struggling to keep her eyes open.

It suddenly hit you, were you being kidnapped right now?

You screamed, not caring how big of a scene you caused before a hand was pressed firmly to your mouth. You continued to struggle as you were dragged away, no one seeming to notice. You reached out for Charlotte, just about reaching her shoulder with your fingertips as she was guided out behind you.

Your looked around hoping someone, anyone would notice when a loud voice screamed “Hey!” in your direction. A man rushed over and began to scream, pulling Jesse aside, his grip loosening on you allowing you to slip out of his arms.

“What are you doing with those girls?” The man yelled over the music, causing a couple more heads to turn. You rushed over to Charlotte, but Carmen pulled out a gun, facing it at your head.

More voices echoed around the room as security guards surrounded you.

“Let me go man” Jesse tried to get away, but the original man pinned him to the wall.

Before anyone else could make a move Carmens arm redirected its aim, and one shot fired straight above your head towards the man who had Jesse. Another shot went off as a guard tried to pull Charlotte away, this one was closer to your ear and a ringing echoed through your head. You felt something wet hit your face, but shock had completely set in. There was more commotion before both men ran out of the venue, leaving you and Charlotte standing there.

You don’t remember moving but at some point, you were guided back into the club and into a back room, a manager’s office. A woman crouched down in front of you and began to speak but you couldn’t hear anything she was saying. You had never witnessed a shooting before, you’d never seen someone die before. You knew the guard that was beside you had died, you figured that out when you touched your face and realised it was his blood splattered across your cheek.

A nudge to the arm pulled you out of your daze and you looked over at your friend. “The lady says we need to stay and speak to some FBI agents, okay?” You could only manage a weak nod.

You don’t know how long it took but the door to the office opened and in walked two pairs of feet. You didn’t bother looking up, but you knew these were the agents you had to give your statement to. You wondered how serious this had been for the FBI to be involved.

The man with black leather shoes on approached Charlotte and began to speak, you weren’t listening, but you watched as he guided her out of the room. The other man stood in front of you his voice sending blood rushing up to your ears, you knew that voice.

He crouched down, resting a hand gently on your knee and looked up into your eyes.

Spencer.

He had on a navy blue button up shirt with a navy vest strapped to his torse, big letters reading FBI over his chest. His hair was as fluffy as always and he had that crease between his eyebrows again, a stern but sad look on his face.

“Hey, you” He spoke softly once you confirmed your recognition in the form of a struggled smile. All your emotions washed over you at once and the tears began to fall freely down your cheeks.

Spencer squeezed your knee rubbing his thumb soothingly in a back-and-forth motion. “You’re okay, you’re okay” He whispered taking his other hand and swiping away tears that were only replaced by more.

“I would have never guessed FBI” was all you could think to say, overwhelmed with the entire situation. Here you were after almost being kidnapped and the FBI agent gently rubbing your knee and swiping away tears was your ‘nerdy dilf’ work crush!?

Spencer let out a small laugh, “are you crying because you couldn’t guess my job?”

You laughed back, “no I’m crying because I was almost kidnapped tonight”

Spencers face went serious again, “I’m sorry, I do have to ask you a few questions about that, is that okay?” You nodded your head and allowed Spencer to sit beside you. He reached over for something and returned with a wet rag, gently wiping away the blood from your face while he asked you his questions.

The moment was so tender you wished it hadn’t been tainted by the memory of the men from earlier. Spencer asked you what time you got to the club, what you remembered seeing when you entered, what you knew about the men and what you knew about Angela.

“Are you going to get Angela back?” You asked once he had finished, feeling more childlike than every under his stare.

“We’re going to try, I promise I will get those men though”

You trusted him, Spencer didn’t seem like the type of person to make promises lightly. There was a darkness in the way he said it, like he was haunted by every promise from his past he couldn’t keep.

The other agent returned with Charlotte and pulled Spencer aside to talk. You watched and waited for your next instruction as Spencer returned back to you. “I’m going to have Officer Berkley drive you both home, another Officer will be stationed outside both your apartments in case these men are stalking you” Spencer shot off orders in that stern tone he used when you first met him. You felt ashamed of the thoughts running through your head at this time, and a quick glance from Charlotte let you know she knew exactly what was on your mind.

He was just so hot.

English teacher was sexy, but this? This was insanity.

Before you were escorted outside Spencer pulled you aside slipping a card in your hand. “Call me if there’s any issues, okay?” He gave your hand a quick squeeze before strutting out of the room in search for his partner.

-

Sunday dragged on, you watched your window anxiously, making sure the officer in charge of protecting you was still there. You and Charlotte had both taken the Monday off work, being advised to stay in your homes until they caught the men. All you wanted was to know what was going on. Spencer wouldn’t tell you anything that Saturday night and neither would the officer who drove you home. You wondered how Angela was, had they killed her? How many other women had they kidnapped?

Monday night you were just about to get into bed when a knock at your door interrupted your nightly routine. Your heart felt like it stopped, what if it was one of them. A quick glance out your window had your worries increasing, the officer wasn’t in his car.

“Miss, are you in there” You heard his voice from outside, followed by another knock.

You opened the door to see the man assigned to your protection.

“Feds caught the guys; I’m just letting you know you’re safe and that I’m heading home” He looked tired, and you began to feel bad for the job he had to do.

Once he had left you quickly shot Charlotte a quick text to make sure she was okay and went back to bed. In bed your eyes were locked on the little card you had placed on your bedside table the night before. Spencer told you to call in case of an emergency, but you needed to know if he was okay. He had been out there tracking down the men that tried to kidnap you, men that were violent and had already shot two other people, what if he got hurt?

Before you could think too much about your decision you pulled your phone out and dialled the number, clicking call immediately so you wouldn’t psych yourself out of it. The phone rung and your heart pounded heavier and heavier with each second that passed.

“Dr Spencer Reid speaking” That sweet voice echoed through the speaker. He sounded softer over the phone; you wondered if he was home now and also in bed.

“Hello?” He spoke again, pulling you out of your daze.

“Spencer” You answered, suddenly lost for words.  

Spencer repeated your name back to you, “We arrested those men, Angela is safe”

“I know, the officer told me, are you okay?”

There was a silence before Spencer answered, “I’m fine, why do you ask?”

“Those men were dangerous, I was worried”

Spencer let out a breathy chuckle, “I’m fine, thank you for checking up on me” another beat of silence. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I am now” hearing his voice had instantly calmed you, and you finally felt tired enough to sleep.

“You should get some rest, ill see you tomorrow?”

Your heart fluttered, “Yeah, see you tomorrow Spencer” You hung up the phone, smiling ear to ear, if Charlotte could see you right now, she would absolutely tease you to no end. But you were too happy to care, you were safe, you loved your new job, you love your degree and you got to see Spencer, your very sexy FBI agent nerdy dilf every morning.

[spidercatweb]

Spencer Reid is a cat dad

YES‼️‼️‼️‼️ YES HE IS‼️‼️‼️‼️ AGREE ONE MILLION PERCENT‼️

he would be a little worried at first because usually as kittens they're more rowdy and that would concern him because of all the important things he has in his apartment...

i think that if Spencer had a cat it would definitely be on his lap while he's reading books or literally doing anything else and the cat would love to be so helpful (not) by napping on top of maps and case files he brings home

he would also make sure that it gets the best life possible, giving it the most perfect care he could and he would NOT‼️ have his cat declawed!

and if Spencer was dating someone with a pet cat, he would be a little afraid to pet it at first in case it didnt like him but i think the cat would end up loving him so so much and being so happy and excited whenever he comes over

WAAAHHHH i love spencer reid and i love cats

[rowretro]

𝕱𝖆𝖒𝖎𝖑𝖞 𝕱𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖓𝖉𝖑𝖞...

🂱warnings: yandere, kissing, blood, toxic themes, manipulative

🂱synopsis: y/n the sweetheart freshman that Riki has had a crush on for 3 years, fell victim to his sweet trap, his oh so friendly family appreciated her a little too much, no much more than Riki of course, and how could u possibly not fall forth man who admired your ballet passion?...

♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎

Y/n was there at 1 am on the rooftop yet again, her white leotard and perfectly flowing skirt unmatched by her tattered bloody white ballet shoes. Riki knew it was her escape, her escape from the craziness the world often brings. She left home thinking she'd find freedom, but still, she saw no sign of freedom. His sweet sweet princess has no better home than one with him. He is the perfect husband, his family willingly loving and caring for her as if she were their own. Riki smiled as he approached her, seeing she was done. "U still haven't given me an answer pretty girl... I'm done being ur friend I want to be your love." His voice echoed as she froze.

The girl turned back to look at him. Nishimura Riki, the one hot senior so many girls fawn over, who wouldn't, he has killer looks, the perfect body, the kind of waist women envy to have, but he does look absolutely unapproachable. in y/n's eyes, he's nothing but a rich entitled student, he gets into so many fights and still gets away with his violent behaviour. Without saying a word, y/n ran off, her little anklet charms hitting against each other, causing a fairly loud ringing echo across the area. Riki didn't chase after her. no, that's not how you catch a butterfly, by chasing after it it'll fly to extreme heights and escape. So he had a plan.

Y/n was blasting pussycat dolls in her earphones as she walked to her lesson, in the corner of her eye, she saw a woman waiting to cross the road with her. She was pretty observant of the random things, and in this case, her observance was a blessing. The woman clutched her chest, collapsing to the ground. The lights go from red to green, indicating to cross. She dialled the emergency number, holding the woman's hand, her head rested on y/n's backpack as she looked up at her, the look in her eyes despite the sharp pain she was experiencing in her chest, was very hopeful. This beautiful girl... Riki's crush, saved her life.

"I'm fine son, it was simply a minor attack..." Riki's mother said as she watched her son's brows furrow, as he washed the dishes in her place. "Don't go out for a while. get some rest, Mom, minor or not, I don't want to take any risks," he said, clearly worried, but his frown deepened when he turned to face her. It was as if her mind was somewhere else, a smile gracing her face "That girl... she saved me... perhaps it's a sign." she said as Riki rolled his eyes "Mom we've been through this I only w-" "y/n. Yang y/n." she cut him off as his annoyed expression was immediately replaced with a gummy smile, his mom's on board. This was going to be easy.

"Do my lips look too overlined?" y/n asks as she's looking in the mirror, fixing up her makeup. "Let's see?... no it looks cute," the girl said as she went back to scrolling through her phone. "I'm so glad you can make it to mine Kira, our schedules are so all over the place, I can't believe you're graduating soon" Y/n slightly pouts, side hugging her best friend. "Don't worry gurl, I'll be coming here more often after I graduate... anyways since we're catching up tell me. how are things with you and the loverboy?" Kira asks teasingly shaking her.

"I thought I told you, no matter how hard he tries, I'm just not going to date him. In the long run... I don't know if it'll work in the long run... he's sweet, gentle with me, always trying to treat me well, I know he's in love I can see that look in his eyes... but he's just... he seems dangerous, the violence, sure maybe it can be justified, but he looks so... psychotic when he beats them. that adoration replaced with an endless hole of darkness... what if we're married, get into a small argument and that's me he's beating up?" she rants as she turns to her best friend with a clearly hurt look.

It seems so easy, she's already liking Riki, heck she even made a scenario in her head of them being married. Kira sighed, ignoring the comments she made about her brother, and she patted her head. "Gurl you think too much, he's only beating the motherfuckers who hurt you, I mean if it wasn't for him, that dude, whatever his name is would've gotten away with ramming your car into a building, that man showed no guilt for almost killing you. He's psychotic. Focus on the good, he's always trying to be sweet always treating you, he knows your favourites, heck he even gave you his blood when you were lying in hospital... I just want the best for you" Kira said with a smile.

"Riki... I uhm... let's get some cake-" Y/n simply said. Her conversation with Kira led her to call the man the next day, so she could see if he was really worth it. "Anything for my everything" he said cheesily with a smile "You're so cheesy, imagine someone once campus heard you say that" she giggled as they walked to the little cute cafe. "All this I'd do anything for you, and you still don't want to have mint choco?" she taunted him as he frowned "mm yes chocolate cake so yummy isn't it my darling," he said with a smile, casually shoving a decent amount of cake into her mouth. Perhaps it would be lovely to be in a relationship with him.

The day went smoothly not one bad thing happened, his hand in hers, as they walked out of the park, not once was he acting too possessive, over her outfit, almost as though he appreciated the effort she put into her style. Not once did he complain about her ultra-high heels being hazardous in a park, or her outfit not being too cold-friendly, instead he gave her one of the many layers he was wearing. All he thought was "We'd be a very stylish couple" The better Kim and Kanye, back when they were in their "prime" at least.

However, it dawned on her when he took her to his home. A few weeks had passed before this. She felt like he was literally everything she needed in a man. Everything but the violence. The possessiveness and control over her friends, specifically male friends. When she'd talk to her best friend about it she'd side with him. Now she knows why. " I just want the best for you my best friend... and the best you could ever get is Riki for a boy friend, me as your best friend, and our parents as the sweetest in laws. don't fight it. they're better parents than yours would ever be." she simply said as she blocked the front door.

The whole family is in on this. Even her best friend. The girl she trusted with everything and anything, going behind her back and manipulating her like this. "Oh sweetheart, where are you off to? It's too late at night sweetheart, Me and Dad helped move all your things into Riki's room, if you need anything, you can ask us, or even the maids... we hope you feel at home here" that woman... the one who had a minor attack, the woman she saved. This is so fucking creepy.

Lying with Riki in what's now their bed, his plush full lips attacking her face every now and then, his arm around her waist, comfortingly stroking her, playing with her hair at times, his eyes looking at hers, and scrolling through his reels both at the same time. This felt so oddly safe. A best friend who protects her, a man who protects her, parents who care, a mother who does her hair gently, and a father who enjoys making dad jokes with her. This felt more like home than creepy. She's convinced that this. This is home.

At least for now...

♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎

A/n: ik these aren't the names of Riki's actual family, but I just didn't want to add their actual names, it felt weird for me, I hope u guys understand.

[keira-kaz2y5]

“Buck & Eddie..” “..ravi.”

“Uh, ma’am I’m not Satan? Uh- My name is Buck.”

“Are you about to ask to borrow money..? 😳🥲 or..??” *scared Ravi face*

*buck every three seconds* “EDDIE” 😃

“Diaz left??” 🤨🤔😮‍💨 “he, uh pretty much stopped speaking to me after you & I broke up.”🥺😏

*hot making out*

*buck curly hair era*

“..now that the competition’s out of the way 👀☕️” “haha.. I’m mostly kidding.. come on, Evan. Don’t make me say it.” “Wait, EDDIE?”

“He was a renter. And he’s straight.” “🤭😩 pfft. okay.”

“You know, I don’t have to want to sleep with everyone I have feelings for. And I don’t have to have feelings for everyone I sleep with.” 👀 👀👀👀 (basically saying he has feelings for Eddie but haven’t slept w him, and slept with Tommy but didn’t have feelings???? Okaaaayyy)

“I-I’m living in Eddie’s old house so therefore I must be in love with him?” “Are you??👀” “In love with Eddie??🧐” “It wouldn’t- be so crazy 🤪” “but except that I’m not! 🥸🤪 As much as everyone (who?) seems to want me to be hopelessly pining for my straight. best. friend., it-it just isn’t like that. I mean, does not having him in my life, .. and in the field leave a big hole? Yeah. It does, sure.” “…o-kay, so did you explain that to Tommy?” “… In the meanest way possible. 😒😔😕 I understand him feeling threatened by what me and Eddie have, but.. he-he seemed so relieved he was gone, it- it pissed me off! It felt like he was accusing me of something, i-is this what he’s been thinking.. the whole time we were together?” “I don’t. know. 🙂‍↔️😐🤷‍♀️.” “It just- it sucks.”

“I think I don’t wanna unpack. ‘Cause as soon as I do that, it means Eddie and Chris aren’t coming back. For real.” 🥺💔

[the-daydreaming-show]

(4.) The Skyfall

SUMMARY: Your time is up.

NOTE: I'll be honest, I've been struggling with this chapter, and this is the final version, but even then I'm not sure. It's a bit boring, but next chapter has a bonus, and then the final chapter of finales! So, sorry about the lame chapter, but hope you like it as leas for entertemiend and see you in the bonus chapter!! XOXO Ella

Memories/Thoughts in italics

Dragon Language in bold italics

Reader dress is inspired by this art of Queen Rhaenys.

Previus Part: (3.) DREAMS MADE HEAVY.

AO3 / Story Masterlist

There was less than a week between Nyx's birthday and the Starfall celebration. From what Elain had told you in the party, the previous year they had not celebrated it due to the birth and other circumstances she didn't explain. 

So, it was not only her nephew’s first Starfall celebration but also the first for her and Nesta.

You spent every day until it at the House of Wind, until the morning of the celebration, when you decided it would be best to take Balerion for a fly. There was a possibility that Feyre and Rhysand would appear early at the house for the party preparations, and despite your newly acquired ability to avoid people in that house, you ran into Nesta at breakfast before leaving.

“I hope you’re not thinking about fleeing the party,” she mocked coldly at you. Of course, because she would be the first to notice how you had spent more time than usual inside the house rather than outside on the balconies or in the sky with your dragons.

“No, I'm just going to take a fly. To make sure, Balerion doesn't cause a scandal when he sees there's a party here tonight.” You explained while spreading butter on your bread and then adding a disrespectful amount of honey.

“I was glad to know that you're well-" She admitted behind her cup of tea. "She missed you too."

You tried not to halt your movements at her words and smiled as best you could before biting into your toast—a poor attempt to hide in some way.

"You can fool many people, Nesta Archeron, but you and I both know you have been missing me every day since the day I disappeared." You teased gently, taking a sip of your own tea. A small tilt of her lips was visible behind her cup. She didn’t deny it, but you hadn’t expected her to admit it out loud.

With her, it had always been like that. The longest conversation you had ever had was before you really knew each other, and you had always been able to understand her silences. You knew that made it more irritating than useful—because you already knew things she didn’t want to tell anyone. Silence had become both an agreement and a decision over the years, a shared language. That was why you had breakfast in silence and parted ways just as quietly when you got up from the table.

With Feyre, there had never been silences, probably the reason it now felt so uncomfortable not to tell her about the things that had happened and those you knew would happen. But you had seen firsthand the life she had now, and there was no room for you or what you had to do in that life. Even if she were able to accept everything. 

You love her, and that was why you wouldn’t drag her to where you stood now—just for the selfish comfort of her company.

Already in the sky, you roamed the mountains and even accompanied Balerion in his hunt of the day—anything to avoid returning to the house, just in case. 

All of it left your face covered in ash, so Mayhem would probably scold you later. After all, your presence that night was supposed to be an official visit—the last before leaving. Your court expected you to inform Feyre and Rhysand of your decision today. Those two didn’t know that, of course. However, you were aware that, since the decision had already been made and confirmed, staying until the party was already too much by the political standards.

So you stayed in the sky until night started to fall. Your stomach growled with hunger, and your tongue felt dry with thirst. It was then that you realized maybe you had overdone it. You flew over the house to dismount, no longer after. You threw yourself off Balerion’s side, using his wings to slow your descent and land on the balcony of your rooms—a dangerous maneuver. The dragon was flying too close to the house, meaning he could easily break something, and the risk of you missing the balcony, falling onto the one below, or any of them, and breaking something was high. But you preferred that risk. 

Fortunately, you didn’t break anything, you simply stepped onto the balcony, where an angry Mayhem was already waiting for you. She glared at you with the same fury while you dropped the harnesses on the floor and headed toward the bathroom, where a bathtub had been waiting for you for far too long.

“It's cold,” you complained as you got into the water. You started to stand up, but her hands pushed your shoulders down, submerging you up to your neck.

“It would be hotter if you weren’t an hour late,” May said offhandedly, but she still left the room in search of hot water.

After the extra hot water, the bath wasn’t as hot, but warm was better than freezing, so you didn’t complain when she went for more. Your presence in the tub helped reheat it, after all, and by the time you were done, the water was bubbling and boiling. May had to let you finish washing alone because of this—for her irritation and your amusement.

You dried yourself in silence while she busied herself in the room. You wrapped yourself in a towel and went to find her, and found her delicately placing your dress on the bed, ready for use.

“Go get yourself ready. I'll call you for the hair,” you said. She frowned at you. You roll your eyes. “I know how to dress myself. You can check my work when you return. Now go get ready.”

“Okay, call me if you get tangled up.” You nodded to her demand.

Mayhem closed the door behind her, leaving you alone. You sat on the bed next to the dress and felt your stomach growl. You closed your eyes, silently regretting all your decisions, and when you opened them again, you noticed that at some point, May had left a tray with juice and a sandwich for you.

"How did I not see this before?" you muttered, quickly reaching for it.

The sandwich was simple, but it was enough to satisfy you and silence the hunger. After it, you shook off your fatigue and turned to your dress with renewed energy.

The dress Mayhem had chosen for the party was composed of two layers that required careful arrangement, which explained her hesitation about letting you put it on alone. The first layer was a sleeveless black dress with a V-shaped neckline, clinging to your figure thanks to the corset, accentuating your hips and letting the fabric cascade to the floor without a train or excessive drama. The corset had a texture reminiscent of Balerion’s scales, adorned with tiny diamonds so small they were invisible unless viewed up close.

When you put it on, you felt as if you were wearing stars, glimmering in the darkness of the room—just as Balerion’s scales did at night.

The second layer of the outfit was dark red, made of a softer fabric. This part covered the left side of the corset, fastening at the waist with an embellishment in the shape of a black iron dragon. From the sleeve, which perfectly matched the dress underneath, a cape extended, also serving as the train of the dress, elegantly crossing your bare back and cascading to the ground. It could have been just a single dress, but this way, you were sure you could wear both pieces on other occasions and with different outfits. That was a condition when you agreed to the special preparation of this attire for the event.

You were putting on heeled sandals, complaining due to the corset that prevented you from breathing and bending down enough to adjust them properly, when Mayhem returned, wearing her own red and black ensemble. All of her outfit complimented yours, but did not imitate it. Her dark hair was styled into a crown of braids on her head, leaving not a strand of place. It was surprising that she had managed to get completely ready in the same amount of time it took you to put on your dress and struggle with your sandals. She entered with a tray with more sandwich and juice, and quickly let all in the night table knelt in front of you to help. You sigh as you sit straight, since movement causes the corset to stop stabbing into the lower stomach.

"You need to eat something. " May said. You felt cold sweat running down your back.

You let yourself fall onto the bed for a moment, trying to catch your breath. That sandwich clearly hadn’t been enough. Mayhem offered you one of the sandwiches, and held the juice while you ate to offer it to you as soon as you finished, the next sandwich was offered to you immediately after. 

By the time you were done, downing the third and finishing your juice, Mayhem stopped worrying about it to stop and check your dress. While you were chewing, May loosened the corset of your black dress, allowing you to breathe more freely, and refastened it just right. You hadn't realized the corset was strangling you because it was so poorly fitted until May readjusted it, and you could easily swallow the last few bites of your food. 

You could barely feel the corset; probably if you hadn't suffered from it earlier due to your poor performance, you wouldn't be so self-conscious about its position. But she didn't adjust anything else, which made you feel proud that you'd managed to put almost the entire outfit on correctly.

You were led to sit at the vanity to do your hair after that, hoping that what you had eaten would be enough to tide you over until dinner and that a good meal would be served at the party. Mayhem carefully brushed your hair, and you almost fell asleep. You frowned in disappointment when she finished before you could even nod off.

"We won't do anything too dramatic with the hair," May told you as she set down the brush and grabbed a jar to apply oils. She massaged your hair and scalp for a while. "We could touch up the roots if you want," she whispered at the end, noticing the tiny roots peeking through the front strands of your hair. 

You shook your head gently after considering it for a couple seconds.

Mayhem used two hair-slides shaped like dragon wings.With them, Mayhem gathered your hair away from your face, and in a half updo with a bun at the back of your head. The combs matched the clasp that fastened your dress, and they were made of the same material as the bracelets she placed on your bare arms. Then, you stood in front of the full-length mirror while Mayhem carefully hooked part of the dress’s train to the bracelets, so it wouldn’t drag too heavily behind you.

Looking at your reflection, you realized the train resembled a blood-red halo that unfurled when you moved.

Mayhem was applying perfume to your neck when Armin and Luka entered the room, also dressed for the occasion, just like May. Coordinated, but not identical to you, their queen.

"You look beautiful, your grace," Armin remarked lovingly, smiling.

"Impossible not to look good with the amount of money spent on this outfit," you remarked gracefully, stretching your neck while Mayhem continued perfuming you. "Are you all going to keep calling me your grace all night?"

"I'm afraid so, your grace," Luka replied mockingly. 

You roll your eyes, and look at yourself in the mirror. 

You looked ethereal. 

It was strange, considering there was a time when you didn't care about your appearance because there was no room in your life to even think about that. Back then, you were still young and had your whole life ahead of you. 

And then, as you learned, appearances meant survival. So you took great care of yours, always wanting to look better—in the ideal way to attract the customers you wanted, not others. You had perfected your image, making sure that every aspect of your outfit, hair, and attitude played the role that would earn you more money and more time for Rue.

Now, everything feels so foreign to you. You played with the fabric of the dress a little, watching the reflection mimic your movements, confirming that it was really you. 

You didn’t know what to say or do about the outfit. It was beautiful, but that didn’t mean you looked beautiful in it. It made no sense. Perfecting your image years ago hadn’t saved Rue, and this outfit wouldn't change anything that night. So, it didn't really matter.

You had barely made it down the stairs to the ballroom, where the party was already underway, when Morrigan appeared and took your arm, leading you around the room with Mayhem shadowing you both. She complimented your dress, and without hesitation, you told her she could have it if she wanted; you wouldn’t have much use for it in the Bay. Truthfully, the Bay's fashions were nowhere near what your outfit looked like that night—it had been designed to blend seamlessly with the party and Prythian styles.

"Honestly, for a moment, I was afraid you'd come out wearing a diamond-studded riding habit or something, considering how long you took to land. I was sure Mayhem would be scrambling to get you into something elegant for the evening," she mocked, glancing at your friend for a reaction. But May just looked at her briefly before whispering,

"If I had tried, I definitely would have never left," she declared firmly, making Mor laugh.

Morrigan led you to the table, unconcerned with the people who had to shift and adjust so that the trains of both your dress and hers could pass without being stepped on. The three of you stared at the snack table in silence for a while, until the blonde picked up a caviar sandwich, never letting go of your arm. You watched her chew nonchalantly before slipping your arm free and reaching for a glass of champagne, ignoring Mayhem's gaze.

"Are you on babysitting duty, Mor?" you asked, bringing the glass to your lips with utmost delicacy, mindful of the work May had put into your makeup.

"Something like that. You are the honored guests of the evening, so keeping you entertained and well cared for tonight is the responsibility of the court emissaries, while Rhys and Feyre are the evening’s hosts. Cassian was assigned your general, and Nesta, your secretary," she explained, and you made a quip over the rim of your glass.

"I'm sure that'll be fun for Luka," you remarked mockingly, and May smiled beside you. Mor looked at you as she took another bite. "Armin is the slowest talker in the world—he's very serious, I always tell him that. He says it's his age. And Luka is just Luka. I don't think he and Nesta will exchange a single word all night unless someone forces them. Though I think they'd both prefer it that way."

"And this one?" Mor asked, pointing at Mayhem with a smile. Your friend's ears turned red in the dimly lit room. "How should I ensure his fun tonight? Since he won’t leave your side."

"Well—"

Someone calling your name interrupted you. You turned to see Feyre and Rhysand walking toward you.

Feyre wore a dark blue, mermaid-style dress that hugged her curves, with a single sheer sleeve that draped over her arm down to her wrist, where it fit snugly. Around her neck, a strip of fabric wrapped like a scarf, cascading behind her like a cape. The entire ensemble was adorned with tiny gems, making her look as though she were covered in stars.

Rhysand wasn't far behind, dressed in pants, boots, and a black tunic with silver embroidery that provided subtle contrast. Beneath the tunic, he wore a shirt in the same dark blue hue as Feyre’s—sparkly and all. They were stupidly attractive as a couple. Their coordinated outfits only made them look better—and worse—all at the same time.

You were suddenly grateful that Armin, Luka, and Mayhem matched you, because the thought of standing out alone left a hollow, lonely feeling in your chest.

"I see Mor already dragged you to attack the snack table," Rhysand teased, glancing at Morrigan, who stuck her tongue out at him while taking a sip of champagne with one hand, the other still holding a bite of food, waiting to be eaten.

"I thought I dragged her, but it may have simply been mutual," you admitted honestly, to which Rhysand smiled in amusement.

"I was looking for you," Feyre said gently, her eyes obviously trailing over your dress. "You look incredible."

"There’s no doubt the Dragon Queen of the East has arrived tonight," Rhysand added, following Feyre’s lead. "You’ll definitely steal the show, Your Grace."

"Oh, please. There’s no dethroning the best-dressed couple of the evening. High Lord and High Lady, you are undoubtedly the envy of all Prythian with the beauty you carry tonight," you said, hoping it sounded less bitter than it felt. You immediately took a sip from your glass and set it down on the table, refusing to look at their reactions.

"And Nyx?" you asked, forcing a lighthearted tone, maybe a little too disingenuous. "I hope he matches too, or I’ll be disappointed!" The words slipped out before you could stop them. But there was no turning back now—you had already stepped in the mud; you might as well sink into it completely to hide it.

You met Feyre's gaze, saw a flicker of concern in her eyes, and pointedly gave her the best everything-is-okay smile you could muster. It didn't work as quickly as you would have liked, so you turned your attention to Rhysand, making him the most interesting person of the evening as you avoided Feyre.

"He is, but I'm afraid nap time clashes with the start of the celebration, so he'll be here for the big moment only," he explained gently, his tone completely casual, his hand resting on Feyre’s waist. You nodded slowly, smiling at him, and took another glass from the table beside you. You sipped it as calmly as possible, though you could have easily downed the champagne in one go.

"I should go find Armin and Luka before they make any strangers too uncomfortable with their lack of sociability," you told them, stepping away from the table before anyone could say anything else, your dress billowing behind you as you walked away.

Once you were sufficiently covered by the crowd, you tipped your glass back at an angle, emptying it in one motion. You placed it on the tray of a passing waiter. Mayhem followed you closely to the balconies, where people were chatting without missing a beat.

There they were, standing with their matching outfits and ethereal beauty. You realized you couldn't stand it for another second. So you made your choice—you would keep your distance for the rest of the party. You ran away. That was the solution. It wouldn’t change anything, only hasten the inevitable.

And so you did.

You dodged Feyre and Rhysand as best you could for a couple of hours while they flitted around the food and drink tables, eating and drinking. But the task proved more difficult than you had anticipated—you quickly realized your dress was working against you.

That's how Morrigan found you a couple of hours later, just before the starfall began. She announced that Nyx was already at the party and had brought his dragons, so you let her drag you along—Mayhem included.

The boy truly matched his parents, which warmed your heart instead of bringing the heartache you had feared. You silently thanked that relief with a sigh. He wore pants and boots that matched his father's and a loose shirt made from the same fabric as his mother's dress. His black curls had been slicked back, but by the time you reached him, he had already managed to loosen some of them.

"Hi," you greeted softly, stepping closer to him, as he was currently in Elain's arms. The boy looked at you and immediately broke into a smile, offering you one of the wooden dragons.

"Bababa," he declared proudly, showing you the black-painted wooden dragon.

"Yes, Balerion." You hesitated, feeling Feyre and Rhysand’s gazes on you. And you could bet the rest of the Inner Circle also had their eyes on you and the boy. "Did you see that Balerion has stars?" you asked sweetly. You knew he probably didn’t understand what you were saying and wouldn’t answer, but you still spoke to him that way, unsure of how to interact with children so young.

Nyx tilted his head curiously and looked at his toy. Then he offered it to you again, trying to understand what you meant. He seemed to recognize the word stars.

"Like this," you said softly, gently holding his hand. You raised his arm so it looked like he was flying the dragon above his head. "See? There, Nyx—stars."

The toy had its wings stretched out as if it were hovering in the sky, and when Nyx looked up at it, he saw its entire belly, legs, and the underside of its wings twinkling, as if a starry sky lay beneath. The boy let out a squeal of excitement at the discovery. You thought that, in his mind, you had just revealed to him that this toy truly contained stars, because the way he held it upside down and excitedly showed Elain the stars beneath it was as if he were presenting the greatest discovery of the century.

You let out a laugh at his enthusiasm.

"Does Balerion really do that?" Rhysand asked, his tone curious. You looked at him for a moment, searching for any trace of insincerity in his voice but finding none.

"Yes. It's his scales. In the dark, they shimmer as if covered in stars, and in the sky, they camouflage him." You explained simply. "The toy is made to mimic that."

"It sounds beautiful," Nesta remarked, to which you smiled in appreciation.

"No doubt," Elain added, adjusting Nyx in her arms as he excitedly moved to show his aunts and uncles how the stars appeared on his toy.

"Can we see it?" Feyre asked, making you look directly at her. You noticed the silver combs in her hair, matching Rhysand’s cufflinks, and how beautiful she looked with her hair styled that way. You couldn't bring yourself to say no—but you forced yourself to.

“I wouldn't want to interrupt today's big event. I'm sure it'll start soon,” you said quickly, trying to divert attention from the conversation so you could escape again. Nyx showed you the toy once more, and you smiled at him again.

“Maybe later, we could watch it from one of the higher balconies. I'm sure it’ll be an equally beautiful sight to close out the evening,” Rhysand offered swiftly, glancing between you and Feyre.

Feyre smiled excitedly, waiting for your response. You looked at the toy Nyx was babbling excitedly about, staring at the stars painted on the wood and trying to scratch at them with your fingers to see if they would come off—but they wouldn't. You glanced back at Feyre, who was still waiting for an answer with hope in her eyes, and felt the urge to refuse leave your body with a resigned sigh.

“Well, I guess a demonstration won't hurt, as long as we don’t overshadow the main event of the evening,” you agreed, having no real choice.

Nyx began throwing himself toward his mother, babbling and yelling that he wanted to go with her. As the child was passed into her arms, you silently stepped away, watching as his bright eyes moved further from you.

You hid at the nearest snack table until an announcement prompted the guests to move to the balconies for the start of the meteor shower. You stood on a balcony with your court and a group of other guests. You’d like to say that the meteor shower took your breath away with its beauty for the rest of the night, but you didn’t get to enjoy it—because a few feet away, on another balcony where the Inner Circle stood, Nyx’s reaction to his first meteor shower stole your attention. And you didn’t mind, because the sight of the child, mesmerized by the way the sky lit up, was brighter than the stars themselves.

That balcony made for a perfect family portrait. Feyre should paint it, you thought as you took another sip from your glass. You had lost count of how many you’d had, but the champagne wasn’t strong enough to get you drunk.

A knot tightened in your stomach, coiling in on itself. The corset wasn’t helping matters. You seriously considered hiding in one of the bathrooms and pretending you’d had too much to drink to avoid the private demonstration. But you didn’t get the chance, because an excited Elain—who must have spotted you across the balconies—appeared out of nowhere just as you were leaving the area with your court and led you to a different, more private balcony.

On the way there, you glanced at Armin and Luka, silently warning them not to follow. If I suffer, we all suffer, you told them with your eyes. Armin, despite his age, somehow didn’t even hear Elain when she called for the attention of those still at the ball.

You did the only thing you could think of to calm your nerves. You reached through the bond with Balerion and commanded him to demonstrate, using the moment to focus on his breathing, heartbeat, and movements—syncing with them, relaxing into the connection they represented. By the time you reached the balcony, you had calmed down, and Balerion roared, making you aware of how close the house truly was. The people on the balconies below, where the party continued, leaned out to watch as well

“Well, here we go,” you said softly as Elain told you how to spot Balerion approaching, and you leaned on the edge of the balcony.

Your boy put on a show. First, Balerion revealed himself, flying around the mountain, rising from beneath the house until he passed by the balconies—so close that some people below stumbled as the wind from his wings shook them all. You only watched with affection. Upon reaching the top of the house, he quickly ascended, making sure everyone knew where he was, spitting a ball of fire through which he flew before disappearing into the sky.

A few seconds passed before anyone spoke.

“Where is he?” Nesta asked in amazement beside you.

You looked around, noticing the balcony filled with the Inner Circle and your court. Nyx was leaning against his mother's hip, staring at the sky in fascination, clutching his dragon toy in his hand. You were more than capable of locating Balerion because you knew what to look for, but the others weren’t.

You stepped closer, making sure to stand next to Nyx, accidentally placing yourself between Feyre and Rhysand—which you chose to ignore for the sake of demonstrating to the boy. You hoped they would do the same.

"Nyx," you called softly. The boy turned to you, though his eyes were still preoccupied with the disappearance of the dragon in the sky. "There, look," you said, placing a gentle hand on his back and pointing to a particular spot in the sky. He followed your finger intently, leaning forward as his eyes narrowed.

It was easy to spot Balerion in the sky if you knew what to look for. It was like staring at the sea, searching for a ripple on the still surface to find where a fish swam just below. The way the stars seemed to flicker more than the others—how some appeared to shift before blinking out—was the clue. Then, Balerion let out another burst of fire, betraying his position once again, and whispers rose from below, a mixture of admiration and fear.

“Bababa,” Nyx whispered in awe. You glanced at him, unable to help but smile at the way he stared at the sky. You were surprised by how quickly he had located Balerion after only being pointed in the right direction once, absorbing the information like a sponge.

That was when you realized you were perhaps too close to him—because, in the next second, his small arm wrapped around your neck, and his weight pressed against you as he threw himself at you with complete trust that you would catch him. You had no choice but to hold him as he leaned into you, taking you by surprise. He was probably used to being passed around effortlessly, and you froze slightly once he was settled in your arms, his legs resting around your waist.

For the first time, you willingly looked at Feyre, silently asking for help with the situation. But she only smiled and shrugged gently before turning her gaze back to the sky, where Balerion was still circling—offering no further assistance.

Traitor, you thought, and you could have sworn you heard a chuckle from your right, where Rhysand was still standing.

“Bababa,” the boy in your arms said with more certainty, drawing your attention as he lifted his toy, mimicking the real dragon’s flight.

“Yes—yes, Balerion flies like that,” you managed, stumbling slightly over your words.

Rhysand circled behind you and stood beside Feyre, but when you looked at him for help, he simply smiled, as if he found the situation amusing. You might have rolled your eyes, but any movement beyond focusing on holding the boy felt like a risk, so you didn’t.

Mayhem appeared behind you, like a saving grace. Without hesitation, she approached the boy. She gently adjusted his position, placing his legs against your hips, one arm resting slightly behind his back and the other supporting one of his legs to keep him steady. You relaxed slightly thanks to her help—and even more so when she positioned herself on the side where Rhysand had been.

You looked back at the stars, trying to appear as casual as possible, afraid that if you seemed too uncomfortable, Nyx would notice and grow uneasy. You adjusted him slightly in your arms, almost hugging him to you, wrapping the cloak attached to your bracelets around him accordingly.

Gods, it had been years since you had held a child. Your sister was the first and the last.

You stood there for a while, watching as Balerion broke the stillness of the sky with his movements. The rest of the Inner Circle and your people moved about the balcony, but Nyx remained utterly fascinated, guiding his toy through the air in tandem with the real dragon. You stayed still, letting him be. You were too focused on the weight in your arms to pay attention to anything else.

For a while, the boy was quiet—but when Balerion let out a particularly loud roar in the sky, Nyx shifted excitedly in your hold, and a pop caught your attention.

“Oh,” you whispered, surprised to see two small wings suddenly sprout from the boy’s back, tangled in the fabric of his dress. You instinctively moved to free them, but hesitated—you didn’t want to take your hands off him for too long, afraid he might move and fall.

“Here, let me help you,” Rhysand whispered, leaning closer. “Move your hand like this.” He guided your hand to support the boy’s back beneath his wings, careful not to press too far.

“Get the fabric out of there,” you instructed softly, pointing to a piece of cloth caught on the small horn atop Nyx’s wing. Rhysand followed your instructions with ease, and soon, Nyx’s wings were free of any fabric, folding neatly into place, twitching in excitement as he gazed up at the sky.

“Better, Nyx?”

You didn't get a response from him—just watched as he continued playing with his toy—and you felt bad because Balerion had already told you the show was over.

"Balerion has to go, Nyx," you informed him softly. He looked up at you in surprise, clearly not very happy about it. "Say goodbye. Goodbye, Balerion." You waved at the dragon, who breathed fire and roared before swooping down into the mountains, where he slept most nights.

"Baba, baba, baba," Nyx mumbled, mimicking your gesture with a sad tone and pouting.

You followed Balerion with your eyes as he descended into the mountains, feeling his landing through the bond, reassuring yourself that he was safe. Then, out of nowhere, Nyx rested his head against your chest. You were grateful you hadn’t worn a collar because, immediately after, he rubbed his head against your skin as if it were a pillow.

"Oh… okay," you whispered, surprised and overwhelmed by the trust the boy displayed as he murmured against you, settling deeper into your arms.

"It's because you're warm," May's teasing voice reached your ears, and you glared at her, offended by her persistence on the subject.

"I'm not," you retorted, irritated but keeping your voice gentle, not wanting to startle Nyx, who had grown even more comfortable, snuggling against your chest with his little hands all over you, as if you were a very large pillow. "He's just sleepy."

"And yet, he chose to settle against the little oven that you are," she mocked again, hands behind her back, a smirk spreading across her face. She didn’t even look at you, which irritated you even more. This time, you rolled your eyes.

"What are you talking about?" Feyre asked as Rhysand reentered the balcony with a drink in hand, which he then offered to her. You hadn't even noticed he was gone.

"Mayhem and Ragnar insist that I'm warm—like my dragons. Which is nonsense. My body temperature is perfectly normal; all the medical tests confirm it," you explained, throwing an irritated glance at your friend, but May just shrugged and grinned mockingly.

"That doesn't mean you're not unusually warm for a person—and very huggable. Nyx seems to agree." As if on cue, the boy let out a contented sigh against your chest. "See? The evidence speaks for itself."

"Go to sleep, Mayhem. You get annoying when you're tired," you told her coolly, but she only responded with a mischievous laugh. She left the balcony soon after, bidding Feyre and Rhysand goodnight.

You suspected her lack of further teasing had something to do with the fact that you were holding the child—doubtful anyone would try to kill you while you carried him.

Armin was nearby, in the hallway inside the house.

There, you realized you were alone on the balcony with Feyre, Rhysand, and their tiny, winged baby in your arms. The discomfort of holding the child returned. You felt like an intruder again, as if you were trespassing on a moment that should be theirs—to hold their child and cherish the beautiful life they had fought so hard to achieve. You were about to muster the courage to say you needed to leave, hoping it would prompt them to take the child from you, but they got there first.

"I think it would be best if I put him to bed," Rhysand said, reaching out to take the baby. You almost sighed in relief, but as soon as Rhysand pulled the child away from you, Nyx’s hand clutched at the fabric of your dress, grabbing the red part that stuck out beneath your cloak, pulling it over your shoulder. Suddenly, three adults were struggling to manage a half-asleep child who had begun to fuss, trying to free his grip without tearing anything.

"Let me get his hand out."

"Nyx, honey, please let go."

"He really has a strong grip," you laughed uncomfortably, now caught between both rulers as they tried to pry their child off you.

"Here, here," Feyre said, taking the toy from one of his hands and guiding his grip from your dress to one of the toy dragon’s wings. "There we go," she whispered as she succeeded, finally freeing the red fabric from his grasp.

You exhaled in relief as Feyre and Rhysand focused on soothing Nyx back to sleep. Rhysand rocked him gently in his arms, while Feyre whispered reassuringly. It was a beautiful sight, and you needed to escape from it, but they were blocking your only way out. You stepped back toward the balcony railing, resting your arms on it and gazing up at the sky.

Breathing through the bond with Balerion, who was already nestled in the mountains, you synchronized with his calm, steady breaths. He dragged his claws over the earth beneath him, and you sighed, feeling the sensation in your palms. The sound of birds above him and the rustling treetops in the breeze grounded you.

The click of approaching stilettos pulled you from your trance, and you turned to see Feyre settling beside you, resting her arms on the railing, her hand dangling near yours. If you moved your fingers, you could intertwine them with hers. You looked back up at the stars and immediately dismissed the thought, folding your hands in front of you, away from both the railing and Feyre.

A comfortable silence stretched between you, carried by the cool night breeze.

"You have something beautiful here, Fey," you whispered, and you knew you’d regret it later, because it revealed too much—because you felt too much saying the words. "I'm glad you found him, after all these years."

“I'm sure the Bay is beautiful,” Feyre said quickly.

“Yes, it is,” you confirmed without hesitation, looking down at your hands and the ring that had been created for you when you took over the Bay. The Bay was, without a doubt, beautiful. There was no denying that. “It used to be called Slaver's Bay; now it's Trinity Bay. And it's so beautiful that sometimes it feels like a dream, as if I'm oblivious to everything around me.”

“I understand,” Feyre assured, and you looked at her to confirm that she wasn’t just saying it to make you feel better, which was unusual because your Fey never said things just to please others. But she wasn’t Fey anymore; she was Feyre Archeron, High Lady of the Night Court. So you looked to confirm, and she noticed. “Sometimes I still wake up thinking about the routine I had before. I wake up thinking about what I should hunt, buy, or fix in the cabin.” It takes hearing Nyx complain or feeling Rhys beside me to remember I’m no longer there. Other times, it's as simple as the warmth of the blankets, which reminds me, because it was never this warm at home.”

“With those holes in the floor, it was impossible; all the houses in the area used to have that problem,” you recalled with a smile that felt inappropriate, considering how they had once lived in such poverty.

“It was that horrendous, rocky soil. Elain always complained that she couldn't grow plants there. I don't doubt it also made building anything difficult,” Feyre laughed, joining you in the memory without giving it much thought.

“Yes, my mother also complained that you couldn't even make mud to cover holes in the floors or walls. Too many stones, and the soil was too fine; the mud would form but fall apart after it dried.”

“The soil caused the problems and refused to fix them, too.” Feyre laughed again, and you burst out laughing at the remark.

“It was a renegade and spiteful land,” you added, and it wasn’t all that funny, but soon you were both laughing out loud at the idea. The laughter shook your chest in ways you couldn’t control, and for a moment, you were afraid you might go from laughing to crying in ways you couldn’t help.

“The area where our neighborhood was really shouldn’t have been built on,” you admitted as you stopped laughing. “But the town had to move a few generations ago because the nearby river flooded the surrounding area after a year of torrential rains.”

“Really?” Feyre asked, shifting from where she stood beside you. “How do you know?”

“My great-grandfather was among the people who started building away from the river before the floods. They called him paranoid, and they were the only ones who had lived in the river area who survived the floods because he wasn’t there.” You rolled your eyes at the thought. “My father loves this story—something about family pride and being born leaders.”

Feyre nodded silently, clearly tense at the mention of your father. She said nothing about it, but you could feel her irritation from where you stood.

Silence filled the balcony. You could still hear the distant bustle and the clatter of toasting glasses. The night breeze stirred the sleeves of Feyre's dress and the cape of yours.

"I wanted to find you, even when the odds were that you were dead."

It took you a second to realize that the statement, so familiar in your mind, hadn't come from you. You looked at Feyre as if she had grown a third head.

"Feyre, she was sold to a slaver. She would have died looking for me," you told her, straightening, trying to be logical and disabuse her of the idea that she might have found you. She mimicked your posture.

It would have been impossible for her. You had been in the volcano when she might have had the resources—halfway around the world. You stood across from each other now, nose to nose, and you realized you were barely taller than her in your heels.

“I would have,” Feyre admitted firmly, anger bubbling up at your response. “Rhys even offered to build a tomb for you, so I could have some peace—to honor you—but we didn’t because of the news from the Mortal Lands. But I’m immortal now; I would have sought you out beyond my lifetime if I hadn't been bound by logic. You were everything to me in those years—”

She stopped dead in her tracks, stiffening. Recognition crossed her face, and her eyes bore into yours, widening wildly in surprise. A line of panic tightened her jaw before she rocked back as if dizzy. You were about to step forward to support her, but she threw herself against the balcony railing and looked at you in horror.

Something was wrong with her, and you were about to rush to her side, to ask what was wrong. But panic didn’t quite form when a voice called out urgently.

"Your Highness."

You jumped in place when Luka's voice rang from the doorway. He stood there with a stony expression. "Just a word, please."

"Please" was the key. It was urgent. You looked at Feyre, saw her adjusting herself and regaining her balance, and although you should have asked her something anyway—to make sure she wasn’t dizzy or unwell—you walked toward Luka. Rhysand passed by you like a gust of wind, heading toward her, so you focused your gaze on Luka.

When you reached him, Luka leaned toward you, speaking in your ear in an equally flat tone.

"Astapor is under siege."

The statement made you mirror the horror on Feyre's face a moment ago, and you straightened.

“You know what to do,” you instructed, turning to face your hosts.

Rhysand and Feyre stared at each other as if having a silent conversation, and then Rhysand looked at you, his jaw clenched. You didn’t give yourself time to think or worry about any unknown offense he might have committed before speaking.

"I'm afraid we must leave early."

Morrigan and Rhysand ensured that your court arrived safely at the Bay during the night. In the morning, you dressed in complete solitude and silence, putting on your riding habit and harness with a serene expression. You had known that the former slave masters would try to attack when you were away from the Bay, even though many of your dragons were still there to defend it if necessary. They were desperate men; they would do desperate things.

You were just putting on your gloves when a pair of footsteps sounded behind you. You recognized Rhysand without needing to turn around. He remained silent as you finished fitting the leather around your fingers.

“I hope we can finish our talks once the issues at the Bay are resolved.” The phrase was more of a question than a statement, evident from the caution in his tone.

Will you return? That was the real question.

“As agreed in the negotiation treaty we signed, once the war is resolved, negotiations will resume,” you told him as you finished your task, turning to look at him. The way he stood in the doorway, where the morning sun shone directly on him, made you see even more of the man you had been told he was, rather than the mask he wore.

“Feyre will be waiting for you,” he assured you, and for some reason, he seemed to be searching for something in your reaction. You remained expressionless, giving him nothing, until Rhysand stopped. You didn’t know if he had found what he was looking for or not, but you had no time for that.

Neither of you said anything else. There was nothing left to say. Without further ado, you turned around, walking toward the balcony of the room where you had lived for these past weeks—now devoid of any trace that you had ever been there, as it should be.

You climbed up the wall to the roof closest to the balcony and glanced one last time at your room’s balcony, where Rhysand stood, watching you as if he still expected something from you.

You jumped onto Balerion’s back and flew into battle without looking back.

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[tossawary]

The longer I sit on and look back at it, the more I unfortunately dislike "Star Trek: Discovery", especially the episode featuring the Kelpian homeworld. It's been bugging me. Sure, I'm maybe too soft on older ST shows comparatively, which are Trying, but also usually Should Have Known Better even back then; but ST:D happened at a point where the writers DEFINITELY Should Have Known Better, so I'm petty. Like, you have decades of people criticizing "Star Trek" for various reasons, so act like it.

So, spoilers for the Kelpian homeworld episode, because I am going to explain and then complain about it as best that I can remember it. Warning for discussion of character death, suicide, genocide, and non-consensual medical procedures. Long post.

One of the characters on the "Discovery" ship is a Kelpian named Saru, a refugee who escaped an oppressive homeworld and was permitted to join Starfleet. This homeworld is somewhat unique in that it has two sapient species: a prey species, the Kelpians, and a technologically advanced predator species that subjugates them in the name of a "necessary" balance. (I do not recall the name of the second species.)

At some later point in their life, all Kelpians experience something that I'll call Death Puberty. (It has a canonical name, I just don't remember it and this gets the point across to anyone without context.) Saru is not Human, but he is at a stage in his life that is equivalent to Human adulthood. When we first meet him, Saru has yet to undergo Death Puberty, which he believes will cause him to lose his mind and become a danger to everyone around him.

In his society, Death Puberty is when all Kelpians are required to present themselves to the ruling predator species so that they can be killed. It's the Great Balance.

Before we go to the Kelpian homeworld, there's an episode in which the ship encounters a sapient star. The star being emits some sort of signal that causes Saru to enter a premature / induced / unnatural Death Puberty. Saru is so completely convinced that he will go insane after this process that he tries to kill himself for everyone's safety. He persuades another character to kill him; and it's only the process abruptly being completed, apparently without ill effects, at the last possible minute that prevents Saru and his friend from going through with this.

Saru almost immediately concludes that his homeworld's narrative surrounded Death Puberty and the Great Balance is a lie. On one hand, this assumption makes sense, Saru is the one who actually had to experience this lie and surviving Death Puberty sane may have felt like everything clicking into place. Death Puberty also had the side effect of making Saru stronger, more assertive, and less afraid. I don't think it's unreasonable for Saru to feel angry and suspicious, nor was it necessarily unreasonable for him to emotionally jump to conclusions here.

On the other hand, I thought this was a little annoying (this is a really petty nitpick, I know), because Saru is supposedly a scientist. His Death Puberty, which neither he nor Starfleet have had the opportunity to study before, was unnaturally induced prematurely through an encounter with a sapient star, so his experience is presumably unique among his species. "What if my society is built on a horrible lie?" is a good question. I just wish that another character had brought up the uniqueness of the situation to Saru as a consideration, given that the future of a species may be on the line going forward.

So, in a later episode, the ship goes to the Kelpian homeworld to investigate.

Saru does quickly confirm that his society is built on a horrible lie. It turns out that the Kelpians were actually the predator species all along? Death Puberty does not cause insanity and is actually the process by which Kelpians enter their final, deadly form. The other species, which is actually a prey species of the Kelpian predator species, somehow became technologically advanced and created this "Kelpians are the prey species and must adhere to the Great Balance" oppressive setup. Final form Kelpians scare the shit out of them.

(The supposed logistics of evolution here are more than a little silly, but whatever. It's ST. Let's go with it.)

Plot happens and Saru and other characters end up in danger. The other species is more than willing to kill Saru to bury the truth and preserve their deadly lie.

I can't remember the exact order of events here, but somehow, the crew of the "Discovery" decide that the only way to save Saru's life and to forcibly push the truth through is to induce Death Puberty for the entire planet of Kelpians. Which they can somehow feasibly do using the signal they recorded from the star.

Supposedly, this planetwide forced Death Puberty for the Kelpians will scare the other species into backing down or some shit. After all, the other species can't just suddenly cull the entire planet, right?

This is one of those cases where I want to sit ST writers down and ask them: "Hi, what do you think that the in-universe Prime Directive actually means and why it might exist?" I don't know about you, but I think that the Federation probably has rules and regulations against subjecting an entire planet to a medical procedure that they did not consent to? I think that if you violate the bodily autonomy of a single person in that way, Starfleet should haul that captain up in front of a panel and say, "What the fuck??? What the fuck is wrong with you???"

Their solution is to VIOLATE THE BODILY AUTONOMY OF AN ENTIRE PLANET using an UNTESTED MEDICAL PROCEDURE that NOT A SINGLE MEMBER OF THAT SPECIES CONSENTS TO. (Not that a single Kelpian can consent to this on behalf of the entire fucking planet, but you get my point, right?) Ethical fucking nightmare.

This is also one of those situations where I have to put my head into my hands, because FUCK, the science fiction genre is never beating those "you guys sure love a White Savior (derogatory)" (and ST is never beating the "the Federation is just USAmerica in space (derogatory)") allegations at this rate. The "more advanced" and "more enlightened" Federation swooping in and getting to make decisions on behalf of these "less advanced" and "brainwashed" new worlds is essentially what "Deep Space Nine" was criticizing back in the 90s.

This random fucking crew is deciding what happens to these people's BODIES!!! I don't even think there's a doctor on the bridge when this is decided! Not that it would be okay if a doctor signed off on it! You CAN'T just subject people to a medical procedure they can't consent to! And with how often ST tries to say something about eugenics and sapient rights, this action SHOULD BE in-universe explicitly about a hundred different kinds of illegal.

Even if the entire planet of Kelpians sign off on that shit afterwards, it still wouldn't be okay. Everyone involved in making this decision and making it happen should be, at minimum, kicked out of Starfleet, on principle. Someone should be put on trial for this. You don't get to decide what to do with other people's bodies for them.

So, that's a problem. I don't think ST can meaningfully claim to be about seeking a better future if it's going to have a Starfleet ship violate the bodily autonomy of an entire planet without any consequences. But this action just flies casually by as though it's not one of the most hideous things that I've seen anyone do in a ST show.

But, you know, setting aside the violation of the bodily autonomy of an entire planet thing... Let's pretend for a second that this truly is the only option and that the captain of the ship is willing to accept the severe consequences for it... (And there's no opportunity for any other crewmembers to say, "Wait, this is wrong. You can't change people's bodies like this. I can't condone this. And, in fact, am morally obligated to stop you from doing this illegal thing.")

This is still an untested procedure. They don't even know if it will work when they do it. They're forcing a medical procedure on an entire planet and they don't even know whether or not it will work.

They're supposedly using a signal emitted by the sapient star, a remarkably unique being in many ways. There's no guarantee that this one ship will be able to perfectly replicate EVERYTHING that a sapient dying star did to induce Death Puberty in Saru, on a planetwide scale. Death Puberty has not been studied by Starfleet in more than a single individual, who had many unique experiences that his fellow Kelpians cannot have had, so it is not by any means well understood. If they fuck this up in any way, they could kill the entire planet.

Death Puberty is a natural process for Kelpians, occurring later in their lives. There is ZERO discussion of any potential health problems from inducing this change early in Kelpians. This could cause life-long, life-ruining health problems for even adult-equivalent Kelpians, and there is absolutely no mention of infants, of children, of juveniles. For all anyone on this ship knows, trying to induce Death Puberty in every single Kelpian on the planet could cause the agonizing death of every Kelpian child not ready for that process. They don't KNOW. They currently CAN'T know, because they haven't TESTED that.

But, okay, let's pretend that every single Kelpian survives induced Death Puberty with no health problems. The signal miraculously didn't affect child Kelpians at all. It was totally fine.

Remaining Problem: every single Kelpian has been raised to believe that Death Puberty will cause them to go insane and become dangerous.

Saru's initial reaction to going through Death Puberty was to kill himself. He persuaded his own friend to cut his throat before it could finish. His situation was one of unnatural inducement, but he didn't even have them lock him up in a cell to be sure of its ending first; he was CERTAIN.

Upon returning home, before everything goes to shit, Saru learns that his father naturally underwent Death Puberty while he was gone. As is tradition, before the process was complete, Saru's father surrendered himself to the other species and was killed. Kelpians are raised to believe their early deaths are necessary.

I don't think it's unreasonable to assume that the majority of the Kelpian population would panic during planetwide Death Puberty. I don't think it's unreasonable to assume that a significant fraction of the Kelpian population, none of whom know what the fuck is happening, might try to commit suicide or murder-suicide. Even when the process completes quickly and they still feel sane, they might think, "Well, it probably takes a few minutes for murderous insanity to kick in. I had better kill myself while I still have a clear head, as per our planet's accepted spiritual tradition and for the safety of my loved ones."

Parent Kelpians trying to protect their children? Lovers trying to die in each other's arms? Some Kelpians reasoning to themselves: "Well, I'm still sane. But it's my civic duty to off anyone who seems like they're going insane." And the entire planet has just gone through what they understand to be The End Of The World, so everyone is probably panicking and probably seems more than a little insane right now.

Do I think the majority of the planet would turn murderous or suicidal? No. We don't really know enough about the planet to choose hard numbers. But the Kelpians have nevertheless all been raised to believe they need to be culled for the greater good, there was nothing like informed consent happening, and with Saru as our main and only example here, we can be pretty sure that the number of other Kelpians who panicked and died because of that panic is not zero. Personally, I think that the number would be sadly significant.

So, I think that Starfleet is directly responsible for some murders and suicides here. Even if there were no medical issues, which is a big fucking if that I do not believe, you are still up against generations of an oppressive death cult here. If you spring the apocalypse on these poor people, it will be bad. They did not consent to this. They're, according to the worldbuilding here, all going to think that they're dying!!!

And you know what? In this episode, the main characters force Death Puberty on an entire planet, in order to scare the other species into letting the Kelpians be free or something, and it doesn't work. The other species immediately activates the emergency "Explode The Planet" system they had installed, in order to kill all of the final form Kelpians. Inducing Death Puberty just made the other species panic.

So, the captain of the "Discovery" essentially has to threaten the fear-motivated other species into submission, or something. I don't remember how this episode ends exactly. I think that the captain more or less says that destroying the planet with make them the enemies of the Federation and that the Federation is a very scary enemy, scarier than the Kelpians, so it's better to stop this and be the Federation's ally instead. Or something like that.

The other species backs off on destroying the planet and the Kelpians are free, maybe. They all went through Death Puberty and learned they were living a horrible lie, so they have a lot to work out. No mention of health side effects or panicked suicides, but I don't believe that these consequences didn't happen out of an entire planet of potential bad reactions.

And no one on the "Discovery" suffers any serious consequences for forcing an untested medical procedure on an entire planet conditioned to view it as being worse than dying. I know that the other species wasn't really open to friendly dialogue and there was a time crunch of sorts, but I still think "blustering the enemy into backing down by threatening them" should have been attempted maybe a few more times, before the "violate the bodily autonomy of an entire planet with an untested medical procedure that will make them think they're going insane" option. I think maybe that's not okay to do to a single Kelpian, much less an entire planet of Kelpians, even if Saru's life was on the line, actually.

"The ends justify the means" is another thing that past "Star Trek" has repeatedly criticized. It's especially insulting to have the characters do this shit without any of them bringing up any of the potential risks in their stupid, condescending plan. I want to like these characters, but shallow writing like this makes me hate them. It makes all of Starfleet look like hypocrites. They're supposed to be scientists??? No one here has taken an ethics class, apparently.

They really just... forced an entire planet through Death Puberty, potentially killing or hurting any Kelpians who weren't ready for that, probably killing a significant number of Kelpians who didn't know what was happening and panicked, even though they didn't know whether or not it would work and could have killed everyone, and nearly got all the Kelpians killed anyway. This clusterfuck should be both against countless Starfleet regulations and EXTREMELY illegal under Federation law. But we can file this under a "whoopsie daisy!" because the professionals involved panicked and meant well?

Fuck off. Awful episode. They definitely killed a significant number of innocent people here, even if they didn't show those deaths because the writers apparently didn't think about the obvious medical and social risks, and what these characters did to the Kelpians wouldn't be okay even if everyone miraculously lived. Don't mess with other people's bodies???

[pukefactory]

Freckle or Rocky dating headcanons pretty pretty please!! SMOKE BOMB!!! *✨disappears✨*

For this post, I decided to focus on Rocky, but don’t worry, Freckle fans—I’ll be posting about him shortly after this!

✩₊˚.⋆ DANGER DAYS ⋆⁺₊✧

☾ Summary: A Compilation of Headcannons Featuring Rocky Rickaby Dating The Reader

☾ Character(s): Rocky Rickaby (Lackadaisy)

☾ Genre: Headcannons, SFW

☾ Warning(s): None - Completely Safe!

⏾⋆.˚ Rocky isn’t much for conventional romance. Candlelit dinners? Not flammable enough. A nice walk in the park? Boring—unless he’s orchestrating a dramatic chase scene, complete with a narrowly avoided collision with an angry goose. His idea of a perfect date is sneaking into the speakeasy, taking bets on how many rusty nails he can hammer into his nostrils, and composing an impromptu poem about it over cheap liquor.

⏾⋆.˚ He once tried to give you flowers, but the bouquet had a suspicious amount of weeds and thorns—turns out, he “liberated” it from a graveyard. Another time, he left you a cactus on your windowsill with a note that read: “For thou, my darling, to gaze upon whilst I am away. Also, it watches over thee in my stead. I cannot keep it, please take it.”

⏾⋆.˚ Sleep? You poor fool. If you’re dating Rocky, expect to wake up to the sound of a violin outside your window at three in the morning. He’ll be on the fire escape, playing a soulful tune about your beauty—or about whiskey, or possibly the moon. Either way, it’s meant for you.

⏾⋆.˚ Rocky is more accident-prone than a feral cat with a vendetta against gravity. He might trip over his own feet, set his sleeve on fire lighting a match, or dramatically crash through a door he swore was “unlocked mere moments ago.” Yet somehow, he always lands (mostly) on his feet, and he’ll shoot you a lopsided grin as if to say, “See? No harm done! ‘Cept maybe a bruised rib. But it adds to my rugged mystique, don’t you think?”

⏾⋆.˚ He’ll lean against you dramatically, a hand to his forehead like a swooning damsel, mumbling about his “frail, battered soul” needing comfort. In reality, he just likes being close to you. If you ever run your fingers through his fur (or what’s left of it post-hearse incident), he’ll go quiet for once—completely melted, all wide eyes and toothy grin.

⏾⋆.˚ Rocky’s reckless, but when it comes to you, he’s unwavering. If anyone so much as looks at you funny, he’ll spin them a wildly exaggerated tale about your “fearsome wrath and unparalleled prowess in combat,” just to make them nervous. If real danger comes knocking, though, he’ll get serious—grinning through the fear, making sure you get out safe even if he has to take a few hits in the process.

⏾⋆.˚ If someone flirts with you, Rocky won’t get jealous in a normal way. No, he’ll march right up to them and challenge them to a sonnet duel. Or a staring contest. Or, worse, he’ll wingman himself, talking you up with such absurd, over-the-top praise that the poor soul slinks away out of sheer secondhand embarrassment.

⏾⋆.˚ Sure, he waxes poetic about everything, but if you listen closely, his best rhymes are always about you. He won’t always recite them outright—some will be scribbled in the margins of your books, others scratched into bar tables where you sat together. And if you ever catch him absentmindedly humming a tune on his violin, you might just recognize the melody—it’s a song only he plays, one made just for you.

⏾⋆.˚ Dates with Rocky often end with you running from someone—an angry shopkeeper, an outraged pig farmer, a furious Viktor. He’ll be laughing the whole time, leading you through back alleys and over fences like a true fugitive duo. The second you’re safe, he’ll pull you into a breathless hug, grin sharp and wild, and say, “Oh, my love, the thrill of near-death only makes life all the sweeter!”

⏾⋆.˚ Once you’re his, that’s it—there’s no shaking him. Even if you scold him, sigh at his antics, or threaten to “smack the poetry clean out of him,” he’ll just grin and say, “Ah, but that’s why you adore me, isn’t it?” And… Well, maybe he has a point.

Writing commissions are now open! I will create nearly any type of story, including OC x Canon or general imagine-style pieces. Please refer to the pricing details below.

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If you’re interested, please send me a DM. Refer to my pinned post to see what fandoms I write for, as well as any additional information.

[harpersdragons]

Sometimes You Gotta Burn the Bridges to Rebuild It, Chapter 6

Archive of Our Own Link

As the weeks turn into months, his life gets easier. He settles into a new routine, including going out as Nightwing and checking on Tim. He’s never been more exhausted, but he’s never felt more free. He makes time to catch up with his friends again. He reintegrates with the Titans, though he has to be careful what missions he goes on because it can’t interfere with his jobs too much. He’s called out a lot, he has to watch that more carefully. Having a dog keeps him from being too lonely, though it definitely required a change in his routine. He has to be more careful with his shifts, making sure he can get home and take Haley out and exercise her before he goes to his lesson. For some she accompanies him and stays in the office, the kids love her.

Despite it all, he misses Bruce.

He hasn’t had any contact with the man since that day after his gymnastics lesson.

He misses their movie nights, Bruce’s quiet but steady presence. And damn, he misses the manor and all the comforts that came with it.

The days pass slowly, Spring to Summer, Summer to the beginning of Fall, and it sneaks up on him that he hasn’t talked to Bruce or Alfred in months.

Batman has been ever present on patrols, but Dick does his best to avoid him. He’s surprised Bruce hasn’t cornered him on some rooftop and interrogated the ‘new’ vigilante in his city.

Unless, of course, he knows it’s Dick, which is also highly possible. Even then, he doesn’t know why Bruce hasn’t come to yell at him for being ‘reckless’.

It’s an amazing feeling to be swinging from the rooftops again. He has to be extra careful to not get too injured, but it’s not like he wants to get shot.

Surprisingly, it’s not Bruce who approaches him first.

It’s Clark.

Superman touches down softly behind him, scuffing his foot to announce his presence—a habit he picked up from Bruce. It’s usually futile, if you know what you're listening for you can hear the fluttering of his cape, and the light landing he makes.

“Did Batman send you?” Dick asks before Clark can get a word out.

“No. He actually forbade any of us from looking into Nightwing. We wanted to, since you randomly popped up with the Titans.”

”Then why are you here?” Dick doesn't bother to turn around, continuing to stare at the city in front of him.

”Will you look at me, kid?” Clark steps closer.

Dick sighs as he turns, finally meeting Clark’s eyes. It’s been a while since he saw the man, even before he was kicked out. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“I’m worried about you. Batman has been throwing himself into his work more and more, we haven’t heard from you, you disappeared from the Titan’s only to pop up again under a new mantle.”

“I’m fine. Your duties are fulfilled, go report back to Batman if you must.” Dick turns again, readying his grapple.

“Wait, please.” Clark didn’t grab his arm or anything to physically stop Dick from leaving, but something in the pleading tone of voice barred him from leaping off the roof. “Can we go somewhere and talk, please? I haven’t seen you in a while, I think we should catch up.”

Dick sighs, “I have a patrol to finish. We can meet after that.”

Clark beams, “Sounds good!”

“Stay out of my way.” With that, Dick flips off the roof, waiting until the last possible minute to fire his grapple.

Bruce always hated when he did that. Technically, you’re supposed to fire first, make sure it’s secured tightly, and then jump.

But where’s the fun in that?

Dick lives for the moment of free fall, where your stomach flips and the adrenaline hits him just right, the wind rushing through his hair as he flips through the air.

The line tugs his shoulder when he hits the bottom of his swing, beginning the upswing towards the next target. He retracts the grapple as he hits the peak of his swing. He flips again, relishing in the suspension of the moment, a split second as close to zero gravity as he can get.

He lets out an excited laugh as he hits the peak of the next swing, continuing the pattern as he patrols the city.

Here, far away from the exhaustion and the pressure of his civilian life, away from the weight of Bruce’s judgement, away from the imposing shadow of The Batman, here he feels free.

When he crawls in his window after patrol, it’s with a weight lifted off his shoulders, the kind of bone deep satisfaction he only feels after a good patrol.

Not much actually happened, so nothing could go wrong. He was just out there, trusting only himself to get through the night, to protect his section of the city—even if it’s only his by virtue of living near it and avoiding Batman—it’s exhilarating. Even if the weight comes crashing down on his shoulders in the morning. Or even before that, when Clark shows up for their ‘talk’. He pets Haley when she wanders over to him—still sleepy, since she’d been sleeping when he crawled through the window.

He stretches his arms above his head after he changes out of the suit. His shoulders will be stiff in the morning, his body still adjusting to the strain it goes through every night now.

It makes his demonstrations at work a little more difficult, but for the most part he’s still teaching the little kids, and they rarely get into things like the pommel horse or the rings, both of which put a lot of strain on his shoulders and upper arms.

Clark shows up not long after Dick has started making herbal tea. Dick leans against his counter as he watches Clark take in the sparse furnishings of his apartment. The man freezes when he takes in Haley at Dick’s feet.

“What is that?”

Dick raises his eyebrow as he responds. “She’s a dog, Clark. I know you’re an alien, but you’ve been on Earth long enough to have seen one.”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” Clark rolls his eyes. “Since when do you have a dog?”

“Found in her a dumpster a few months ago,” well, behind a dumpster but that’s beside the point. “And her name is Haley.”

“Ok.” Clark seems to take that in stride, to his credit. “Are you…comfortable here?” He eyes the bed and couch, the space absent of any other furniture.

“I’m fine, Clark. I don’t need much to live. I may have spent nine years living in the manor, but I spent just as much time traveling from place to place in a small trailer.”

“You know Bruce would—”

“Bruce may as well have kicked me out. His guardianship ended when I turned 18. I wasn’t meant to ever be anything more than his ward. I don’t need, or want, his help.”

“You still have a trust fund, you can use it, live a little more comfortably.”

“What part of ‘I don’t want his help’ means I want to use the trust fund he set up? That just gives him something else to have over me.” Dick scowls, passing a mug to Clark and collapsing on his couch.

“You have always been his son, Dickie.”

“Don’t—”

“Let me speak.” Clark’s voice is hard, despite the soft expression on his face. “You can convince yourself you’re better off without him all you want, but don’t fool yourself into believing he doesn’t love you. You’re his son, Dick. You have been from the moment he brought you home. He may have never officially adopted you, and I can’t speak about his reasons for that, but he loves you. No matter what happened between you two, he loves you.”

“He sure as hell wasn’t acting like my father when he told me I could go to college or get out of his house.” Dick mutters, staring into his mug instead of looking at Clark.

Clark sighs heavily, “You know his relationship with communication is difficult, I’m sure he didn’t actually mean that.”

“So, what, That makes it ok?” Dick snaps his head up, “‘He didn’t mean it’ so I’m supposed to just excuse it? I have to be the one to go crawling back to him, to forgive him time and time again? What about when I’ve had enough? I don’t want to be Bruce’s verbal punching bag. I don’t want to fight every time I see him. If he’s not willing to put in the work to change, to recognize that what he says matters, then I want nothing to do with him.”

“Sometimes, we put up with family even when they say or do things that hurt us, or that we don’t approve of, simply because they are family. Bruce and Alfred are your only—”

“Do not tell me who is and isn’t family to me. And you don’t get to excuse actions simply because you allow people to walk all over you if they’re your family. I refuse to allow myself to be continuously hurt because he has a problem with me being independent and no longer under his control.”

“Maybe you should look at how your actions hurt him, or look at this situation from his perspective.”

“Maybe you should stop speaking on Bruce’s behalf. And while you’re at it, stop fucking assuming I’m the only one at fault. Maybe I didn’t handle things in the best way. Maybe I escalated the situation, but don’t assume he’s blameless.”

“I’m not! I’m not blind to Bruce’s faults. I’m only saying you shouldn’t abandon him just because he hurt your feelings.”

“Hurt my feelings?” Dick cuts himself off with a bitter laugh. “He took away my family’s colors. My nickname. As if he had the right to do that. He tried to force me down a path I didn’t want. He was either lecturing me, or he couldn’t even look at me. So maybe I retaliated, I yelled at him, I stormed off, whatever. I may have gotten reckless on patrol. None of that gives him a right to kick me out, offer me an ultimatum, or take away my parents legacy.” Dick drains the last of his tea. “Now I have work in the morning, and I’d like to get at least some sleep,” It’s already nearing four in the morning. “Please leave.”

Alfred would be appalled at the lack of manners he’s displaying, but he can’t bring himself to care right now. He turns around, putting his back to Clark as the man sets his mug down in the sink and makes his way to the door. Dick doesn’t have a separate bedroom, so he can’t go shut himself away until Clark leaves his apartment, so it turns out to just be him standing with his back to the man like a fucking toddler.

He thought talking to Clark would be good. He grew up with the man, he thinks of him as an honorary uncle. He didn’t expect the conversation to go like that. He didn’t expect him to blindly be on Bruce’s side, but maybe he should have.

He lays in bed for a long while, eventually falling into a restless doze.

The next day is his one day off from the diner, and he has a morning gymnastics lesson.

When it’s over, Tim comes home with him.

“You have enough food at home, Timmy?” Dick interrupts the kid’s rant about Lithium mining and its effects on the environment—where he learned this, Dick doesn’t know, but he’s cute as hell when he rants like this.

Tim rolls his eyes and nods, then returns to his rant.

Dick grabs his hand when they cross the street, guiding Tim back to his apartment.

When they get inside, Tim drops his bag near the couch and drops to the floor to greet Haley, while Dick heads to the kitchen to start lunch.

“I still don’t have a TV, obviously, but I have my laptop if you want to play games or watch something.”

“Ok!”

Dick smiles at Tim’s happy tone. “You can grab it, it should be in my bag by the bed. Is your homework done?” He’s not facing Tim, too busy pulling ingredients from the fridge, but the silence is telling. He turns around, and holds back a sigh when he sees Tim.

The kid is holding the laptop, his shoulder’s hunched and face turned towards the ground.

“When’s it due, kiddo?” Dick approaches him carefully, taking a seat on the mattress.

“Not until Monday.”

That tracks, it’s Friday after all.

“Alright, how about this. You work on your homework for a little bit, while I get lunch ready, and then after that we can do something else. Do you have it with you?”

Tim nods but hunches over even more, if possible. “I didn’t want to waste our time together, though.”

“It’s not a waste, bud. I’m happy just spending time together, no matter what we do.” Dick holds his arm up, offering a hug. Tim ducks into his arms quickly and drops the laptop on the bed before wrapping his arms around Dick. “Look, you’re staying here for most of the weekend, so we’ve got time. Your homework needs to get done though. You can work on it a little bit at a time, or you can knock it out all at once. It’s up to you.”

He can feel Tim nod against his chest, and Dick rubs his back until the kid pulls away.

“Alright, go get your work done. I’ll put some music on and get lunch going. If you need help, don’t hesitate to ask.”

Tim is wickedly smart, but Dick can’t help but offer. No matter how smart the kid is, Dick doesn’t want him thinking he has to solve every problem himself. He’s trying his best to break that habit. Sometimes all you need is a little support, or even just someone to talk through the problem with and you end up solving the problem yourself.

Lunch doesn’t take long, Dick just put a simple pasta together—Barbara’s lessons are really helping. He takes Tim a bowl and drops onto the floor next to him, since it’s apparently better for homework than the couch. Dick’s not one to judge, he’s sat in weirder places (A certain chandelier comes to mind).

Plus Dick doesn’t have a table.

Dick sets Tim’s bowl next to him and taps his shoulder. “Eat, kiddo.”

“In a second, I just need to finish this.”

“Finish whatever problem you’re working on, then take a break and eat.”

“I’m busy.”

“Not optional, kid.”

Tim huffs, but stops working not long later and picks up the bowl.

The rest of the night passes peacefully, and soon Dick is leaving Tim behind so he can go patrol. He doesn’t like doing it, the kid has been left enough in his life, but he doesn’t have much of a choice.

Ok, he does, he could just not patrol, but he doesn’t like missing patrols. Not now that he’s finally back out on the streets.

He puts Tim to bed (he’s not fooling himself, Tim definitely isn’t sleeping, but as long as he doesn’t leave the apartment, he’s fine) and crawls out his window.

Patrol is significantly busier tonight, though it’s a lot of petty crime rather than big cases.

Eventually, though, he gets a break.

He drops onto a roof and leans against a gargoyle.

The back of his neck is tingling, as if someone’s watching him. He has a feeling about who it is when he hears a small squeak and a lot of rustling, as if someone is scrambling to leave. Dick sighs as he turns around.

“No use hiding, kid. I know you’re there.”

There’s silence, and then more shuffling and Tim comes into view.

“You’re supposed to be in bed.” Dick glares down at the kid.

“I just wanted to get pictures! I don’t have enough since you stopped going out as Robin.” Tim pouts up at him.

Dick sighs and crouches down. “I can’t do my job out here if I’m worried about you. That’s why you’re supposed to stay home.”

“But—”

“No. I’m taking you home, and you’re going to stay there this time.” Dick doesn’t wait for a response, he scoops Tim into his arms, warns him to hold on tight, and starts grappling back to his apartment.

When he gets back, he sets Tim on the ground and glares down at him. He resists the urge to rest his hands on his hips—no matter how much he wants to—he doesn’t want to make Tim feel like he’s being lectured.

“That was incredibly dangerous, Tim. Do you even understand the gravity of what you’re doing?”

“I know it’s dangerous! I’m good at staying hidden, I’ve only ever fallen twice, and I’ve never been caught.”

“Until today. What if it wasn’t me that caught you? What if it was any number of Gotham criminals? What if you couldn’t get away?”

“That’s never happened before!” Tim stomps his foot on the ground indignantly. Honestly, if Dick wasn’t so angry (worried), it would have been adorable.

“That doesn’t mean it won’t, Tim!” Dick has to force himself to keep his voice level. He will not yell at Tim. “You can never guarantee your safety. Just because it hasn’t happened, doesn’t mean it can’t.” He softens his voice and crouches down to Tim’s level.

“I just want to be able to see you in action! I haven't been able to get good pictures recently.” Tim lowers his gaze to the ground.

“Bud,” Dick sighs, “I can’t do my job out there effectively if I’m too busy worried about where you are. I need to be able to trust that you are where you’re supposed to be.”

Tim sniffs slightly, “Well how am I supposed to get my pictures if I have to stay in the apartment?”

“You’ll just have to find something new to photograph, or we can set up situations that are controlled, and stage pictures of me flipping around rooftops or something. But I can’t have you in danger.”

“No one’s ever cared before.”

“Well I do. I am here, Tim. I’m not your parents. I want to know what’s going on in your life, I want to be present, and I need you safe. Do you understand?”

“What if you train me to protect myself?”

Dick takes a moment to think about the question. He’s not necessarily opposed to the idea, self defense is a good skill for anyone to have, but he doesn’t want Tim to have the same life Dick leads. He loves what he does, but that doesn’t mean he wants other kids to follow his path.

“I’m not opposed,” Dick takes a deep breath in. “However, there needs to be an understanding. I don’t want you on the streets as a vigilante until you’re at least sixteen. Preferably it would be never, because ideally it wouldn’t be necessary, but I doubt that’s realistic. So if that happens, you will need to promise me that you won’t try to convince me to take you out on the streets.”

Tim nods, a glimmer of hope in his eye. “Ok. I agree.” His voice has an odd watery tone, and sounds suspiciously shaky, but Dick doesn't call him on it.

“Ok, thank you. I need to head back out and finish patrol. Do you want a hug before I go?” The kid is touch starved, Dick’s been trying to hug him as much as possible, but after going so long without physical affection, it tends to make him uncomfortable and touch avoidant.

However, Tim nods again and collides with Dick a second later.

Dick is smiling as he heads back out. He ends up heading back to the same roof he found Tim on, and he perches on the edge next to the gargoyle. After the busy start to patrol, he figured it would be similar for the last half. Technically, he’s already finished running his patrol route for the night, but he doesn’t feel comfortable heading in yet. It’s still too early.

So, he observes the city.

Eventually though, the peace has to come to an end.

Because, apparently, the universe hates him.

The nearly imperceptible fluttering of a cape.

Again.

This time it’s different though.

The distinct fluttering is accompanied by the sound of a grapple retracting, and a nearly silent thump of boots hitting the roof.

Bruce

Dick glares resolutely out at the city and refuses to turn around. He can feel Bruce’s heavy gaze on his back, waiting to be acknowledged.

Bruce doesn’t wait that long.

“You know, when I fired you, that was meant to be permanent, Robin.”

White hot anger lashes through him.

He jumps up and spins around, stalking closer to Bruce. “I am not Robin. You made that abundantly clear. You don’t get to come over here and control me again. I’m making my own name for myself, without you.”

It’s not the same as the speech he’s rehearsed in his head, but it’s pretty damn close.

“I want you safe!”

Nope, he’s ignoring how similar that is to the talk he just gave Tim.

“You don’t get to decide for me!” Dick draws up to his full height. He’s shorter than Bruce, especially when the man is in the batsuit (he definitely has lifts in the suit, but he won’t admit it), but he refuses to cower. “You made me Robin. I’ve only become what you made me.”

“No, Robin—

“My name is Nightwing” Dick interrupts.

Bruce keeps talking, completely ignoring Dick. “You didn’t ‘become what I made you’. I trained you to be better than this.” Bruce glares at him. “I trained you to be smarter. Always have backup. Only take reasonable risks. I mean, what is your suit even protecting?”

So what if he took some liberties with the design choices on his suit.

…and the choice to not zip it up all the way, leaving half his chest unprotected.

The high collar is dramatic

“What’s wrong with my suit?” Dick asks indignantly.

“Do I really need to point that out?”

“You have no right to come over here and tell me how to live my life.”

“You’re being reckless! You don’t have a support system. You wouldn’t do acrobatics without a safety net—”

“I think you’re forgetting that that is exactly what we did. That was the allure of our show. Well, aside from me being the ‘child prodigy’. The danger of doing what we did, the suspense, that’s what drew people in.”

Bruce’s voice is cold when he responds again, his face hard. “And look how that turned out.”

Dick’s face shutters, mentally slamming down every wall he has to keep the hurt from showing on his face.

He didn’t think Bruce would stoop so low.

He’s spinning on his heels, and readying his grapple to fire, when Bruce jumps forward and grabs a hold of his arm.

“Wait, I’m sorry. That came out wrong.”

It ‘came out wrong’. But that’s not the same as not meaning it.

“I don’t care,” He fights to keep the waver out of his voice. “let go of me, Batman.” The grip on his arm loosens, and he tugs his arm free, jumping off the roof.

Tim is, thankfully, asleep when Dick gets back.

At least he won’t see the tears streaming silently down Dick’s face when he takes his mask off.

He moves blindly through the motions of taking his gear off, trying to stay as quiet as possible so he doesn't wake Tim up.

He didn't sleep much that night.

He forces himself to stay upbeat through the rest of his weekend with Tim, and puts more effort in than usual to avoid Batman on patrol.

As soon as the weekend is over though, Dick returns Tim to his house—no matter how much he hates sending him back to that mausoleum.

Once Tim is safely home, and Dick has returned to his apartment, he allows the emotions from his “conversation” with Batman (not Bruce, he can’t let himself believe that was Bruce speaking) to overwhelm him.

“He’s just—” Dick cuts himself off and blows out a hard breath. “He’s insufferable, Wally!” Dick had called to rant to his friend on his way home from work on Monday. “He thinks he knows everything and refuses to accept anyone else’s input! And he has to control everything! Why can’t he just accept that I’m an adult and leave me the fuck alone!”

Wally hums. “Do you actually want him to leave you alone?”

Dick sputters, nearly interrupting.

“I’m not done, Rob. Do you want him to leave you alone, or do you miss the version of him that could hang out with you and not get into a fight?”

“Obviously the second one—” Dick cut off as a pipe shoves hard into the small of his back (and yes, he knows it’s a pipe and not a gun. He’s not an idiot).

“Hand over your money.” A voice comes from behind him, clearly a young kid trying to deepen his voice to sound more intimidating.

“Rob, you alright?” Wally asks at the same time.

“Wally, I’m gonna have to call you back.” Dick hangs up the phone, despite Wally’s protests. He raises his hands slowly in a gesture of surrender. “Kid, how about we make a deal?”

“Who ya callin’ kid?”

…is he joking? He forgot to even deepen his voice that time.

“You. And I know you don’t have a gun, because that’s clearly just a pipe you have jammed into my back, so how about you take a step back, and I turn around, and we work out a deal?”

The kid does pull the pipe back, and when Dick turns around he’s holding it over his head, ready to strike.

Dick lowers his own hands, but keeps them in sight and open palms facing the kid.

“I can still beat you over the head with this pipe, and I ain’t afraid to do it.”

“I believe you. But I don’t think that’ll be necessary. What’s your name, kid?”

“What’s it to ya?”

“Curiosity, mainly. You don’t have to tell me your real name, but I’d like to be able to call you something other than ‘kid’.” He hopes he can help this kid. His sweatshirt is dirty and wrinkled, his hair greasy, jeans torn, he’s clearly living on the streets. His face is gaunt too, so he clearly isn’t getting enough to eat.

The kid eyes him suspiciously, but cautiously lowers the pipe. “Jay. M’name’s Jay.”

“Ok, Jay, why don’t we grab lunch?”

[are-you-still-writing-that]

Yandere!Sanzu - Final Timeline

This took me a moment, when I finally sat down to look this idea! Especially because the final future timeline is a single chapter, where we only get a few glimpses at Sanzu and the knowledge what he does for work – which is not a lot...

Still I tried my best:

Final Future Yandere Sanzu Headcanons

I do believe, that while this Sanzu has lived through less trauma than before, many of his core characteristics would stay the same in the end. He is still Sanzu after all. He still has the personality – and with that the violence – needed to make it in a gang.

His image is what changed drastically. He is more grounded in his familial relations, as he works with his sister and his brother is still part of his life. Something, that will make him less likely to go off the deep end immediately – though he is still capable of that.

Sanzu would still be incredibly possessive, while being disturbingly affectionate, but you would be spared the blood dripping from his hands. He stays manipulative and someone that regularly considers a murder-suicide, if he gets the feeling that it would be the only way that he can have you.

It starts innocently enough and if you ever knew what would follow, you would have never hit play.

You have been seeing the two siblings more often on your YouTube page. Every now and then they would pop up and one day you simply decided „Why not“. It´s not like you had anything better to do at the moment and with how often they had already popped up, they seemed to be pretty popular.

That was your first mistake:

An hour and three other videos later, you are still absorbed in the videos by these siblings. They are kinda funny, a bit strange, yes – but pretty enough that it didn´t bother you too much.

It doesn´t take long, till you started to comment on their page. Over and over again. You didn´t expect a response from them; they must get thousands of comments every day and yet...

He somehow notices you anyway and sends you a message in return

Here you make mistake number two:

You answer. He is even weirder than you expected. Charming, but you aren´t quite sure if some of his more violent and vicious remarks are truly jokes or something he actually means. (He does mean them. You learn that much later. When it´s already too late.)

You might be becoming something akin to friends. You write each other for weeks. Exchanging little titbits about each others life. (You never learn that he made a note of everything.) Playfully complaining about one thing or the other. You get comfortable with him and so think nothing of it, when he asks to meet up.

Your next mistake:

You agree. (You will repeat this mistake over and over again.) You set up a date with him, and no matter how strange it was you somehow decide not to ghost him. (It´s the last mistake you ever make)

He is... charming, you think. Strange. But polite. You didn´t think it was possible that he would be even prettier in real life, but he somehow is...

The conversation flows easily, every time you stumble he picks it back up again like it´s nothing. It is incredible easy to talk to him. Far easier than you ever imagined

Before you know it, he has you wrapped around his finger

With glee you agree to meet him again, hope that this connection you felt to him wasn´t just one-sided, and anticipate the next date with a nervous jitter

When he asks you out, again and again, it only feels natural to agree

Your very last mistake is one you already made:

Later, when you got comfortable meeting him, he pulls you in front of the camera. He is, or at least he seems to be, flustered to put you on the spot like this, but you agree. Wave off his worries. What is the worst that could happen by appearing in his videos?

People. Attention. His fame. But mostly people. That is the worst that could happen.

They notice you far too clearly. Point out every little flaw and mistake. Your every insecurity. At first only online – one terrifying day, on the street as well

Your face is suddenly known and whispers seem to follow you. They found first your accounts and then your address.

It´s a hard time for you, but through it all one man never leaves your side. He stands by you. Privately and publicly. He wipes the tears from your face and you never quite notice how heavily he blushes when you cry.

Sanzu is perfect in your eyes. Your knight in shining amour, who consoles you, comforts you and defends you.

There is no way for you to run now:

You can´t leave him without people judging you harshly – even more so, than they already do

No matter where you go, eyes seem to follow you

You feel the pressure that is constricting your ever move – and it scares you. He doesn´t seem to feel it and when you complain, he simply smiles

It is while you talk about the attention and how you believe that you should maybe stop seeing him for a while – just as long as it takes to calm his fans back down, that he moves

The pocket knife he pulled is just resting on your throat and he is smiling

„If you ever even think about walking away from me I will first kill you and then myself. Do you understand, darling?“

He muses about it with a dreamy smile, how cute it would be for the two of you to die together. He grins at you as if you would agree.

After a moment of tense silence, you do.

It is the only thing you can do

He uses his fame to draw you in and then shares it with you, simply to isolate you from the rest.

Neither of his siblings care to stop him and it´s not like they think that well of you either

Sanzu appears terribly in love to them, and you just seem jealous of him

They won´t step in. Mainly, because they simply do not believe you.

You are on your own here. And you simply made one mistake after the other, without realizing it.

[noinoi10101010]

TSAMS headcanons

Fluff

when it's father's day dazzle always makes and tries to come up with the best gift for sun

Sun found muffin and Cleo as strays

Earth when it comes to kids who have autism always listen to their rambles about any of there interest / hyperfixation and always tells the other kids at the daycare to try listen them as well and tries to bolth parties involved as comfortable as possible.

Kc would make and bake food for the homeless

Solar teaches science to the kids at the daycare

Neblua and solar like to play a bunch of different games together when they visit

Servant was brought to dark sun paradise for suns and is in contact with the celestial family

Taurus and moon build Tec together

Lunar when he makes puppet shows is over dramatic with the voices he uses

The turtleneck and sweater vest that sun and moon have in the thumbnails were all made by earth

Sunny writes silly little love notes and doodles about roxas

Earth likes and does cosplay

Jack favorite holiday is Halloween and he decks out with Halloween decorations and costumes for him and the celestial family

Killer sun is also living at the sun paradise made by dark sun and he has had him in charge of being the guard of the suns that live there and to make sure if any threat tries to harm him or any of the other suns he should be the one to deal with it.

Dark sun has dubbed themselves the king of all suns and even has his own throne

frank likes it when people complain his looks

Henry would face paint Charlie face with the looks of the puppet mask when she was still alive

Angst

jack has nightmares of all the people he killed when he was under the creator control

Every moon killer sun and dark sun meet reminds them of there moon who abused them

Sun and servant don't like it when people yell at them cause of the treatment from moon and lord eclipse respectively.

Dazzle came from a very neglected family her birth parents died and it left her grandmother who was extremely neglectful to her.

Just like how any time dazzle sees jack she is reminded of the mean things he said to her the same is for jack as he feels extremely guilty for not trying to stop it

Cause of what happened with the kids on July 16th sun hates any harm of children being shown to him or mentioned. Whether it be abuse, murder, it sends him into a rage and tears

Moon would over work himself if it meant to keep his family happy and safe especially sun.

Sunny knows deep down that roxas doesn't love her back but still keeps trying cause she is cling on the hope that maybe just maybe he loves her back or he'll eventually love her back

Nebula get extremely worried if someone she is close with like solar and earth has an interaction with a negative star like being like rez cause those she was close with were killed by them

Sun any time he looks at the Roxanne plush he wonders and or thinks that he will never have someone who loves him like that ever again and that he will be alone forever

Sun got hallucinations of blood moon and nexus so much he is just numb to it

The shirt solar has was given to him by his sun before he died and was the last thing he gave him

Charlie any time she hears her dad harsh words to her when she saw him again or his words in general thinks she is unlovable and worthless and she desperately tries to avoid that feeling as much as possible cause deep down a part of her thinks that's true

Ruin's Monty returned ruin's feeling for him a few months before he started to become infected with the virus

Jonathon called and viewed moon as his dad and had a physical abusive father and mentally abusive mother and a spoiled sister that treated him horribly moon was the only thing Jonathan had and when moon saw what his home life was like his kill code took over and he killed his parents sister and him on accident and when moon realized what he did he tried to take him to a hospital as quickly as he could but he couldn't make it in time and he died in his arms his last words being "I love you dad"

[winterchimez]

Lover | Xiao Dejun

SUMMARY: xiaojun was determined that he was never going to get back up on his feet again until he discovered a song written by you, and he was going to make sure that both of your feelings would be conveyed to the world in the best way possible.

PAIRING: singer!Xiaojun x g.n!reader

GENRE: angst, hurt comfort, established relationship

WARNINGS: pg-13, it's umm pretty sad so i highly recommend tissues 🥹, mentions of ill-health, yn is not around anymore (so you're practically a ghost in this story), mentions of death

WORD COUNT: 1,544

A/N: my very first wayv fic and i had to do it for my boyfriend 🥹 shoutout to @h0mebody-heaven for beta reading this for me & ofc being my #1 wayv girlie + supporter 💗 the fic is based off on xiaojun's cover so def listen to it if you haven't it's a very beautiful song 🥹❤️‍🩹

Xiaojun’s hands began to tremble as he held onto the microphone prepped before him. It has been a while since he last stood up on stage, yet alone ever sang for anybody in a while.

The dim lights that filled the club hadn’t been much of a help to ease the tension that he’d been struggling with either, and he could basically forget about putting on a good impression with the amount of attention he’d been getting from the customers who mainly had turned their attention towards the front stage. 

Rustling through the equipment and ensuring all the band members were ready to go, he hesitantly turned towards the crowd. He tapped his mic twice before breaking his silence. 

This would’ve been a lot easier a year prior, especially when he was the regular singer in this particular nightclub that he worked at as a part-time job on the weekends. However, things took a drastic turn when his fellow co-singer was no longer part of this warm, comfortable family of friends he had made while working here.

Or rather, his fiancé, who had tragically left the world way too soon. 

It wasn’t too big of an issue when people knew you had always had a pretty frail body, and visiting the doctors at least once a month was a fairly common practice you always did back in the day. What was shocking was that by your final years of university, you were beginning to have blackouts—happening more often than it should, which was concerning enough for you to be admitted into the hospital.

Neither of the medical professionals was able to give you a concrete answer about what you were struggling with—frankly, you were glad that you never found out about it to save you all the pain and distress of counting down how many days left you were granted the privilege to stay alive. 

With that, you decided to go through all of the things listed on your bucket list back in high school, and one of them was to perform regularly as a singer. Through your connections in university, you landed a job at the local nightclub not too far from campus and were given the opportunity to shine as a performer on stage.

Which was where Xiaojun met and was instantly smitten all over you.

You both hit off immediately—having a good range of high vocals and loving practically almost the same music genre—and you both could spend time with one another for hours or even days. Just like all relationships, things started friendly before you knew that you could no longer see each other as just simple co-workers from the club. 

Instead, you both became partners and helped the club gain its reputation and fame, which it has proudly maintained for the past couple of years. The local community loved you both, and rumours immediately began spreading like wildfire, causing sales to go up higher than before you took over as the regular performers. 

With that, Xiaojun was convinced that he was glad to be part of this little family he had formed outside of work, and he’d be more happy to work here for the rest of his life. 

Just like a fairytale, everything seemed so perfect for him—not just an enjoyable side income that he looked forward to every weekend to meeting the love of his life who shared the same interests as him. But it is also bound that all fairytales would have times when everything could go badly wrong.

All of a sudden, you were on full-on life support, and hearing the tragic news that you didn’t make it through the night broke Xiaojun down badly, to say the very least. He left his full-time office job and wasn’t keen on meeting anyone for a year. 

Until he cleared up your belongings and found that you had written a song just for him. 

Reading through the lyrics brought tears to his eyes, and it pained him so much how you knew that your time was limited as you wrote this song down. Xiaojun would spend the next day or two hurling up in his room while clutching onto this soaked piece of paper with his tears until he came up with a brilliant idea that he could at least do to honour your name. 

He wasted no time calling his bandmates from the club, which surprised them, considering he hadn’t contacted them in over a year. However, they were more than happy to welcome him back with open arms. 

Quickly, they got to work and spent many sleepless nights in the studio trying to create the perfect song composition to match the vibes of the lyrics you wrote. Slowly but surely, all of his efforts finally paid off, so he was standing back up on stage today just for you. 

He was determined to ensure the world recognised the beauty of your work before you were gone. 

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, I hope you are all enjoying the night so far. I’d like to take this time to switch things up for a bit tonight. Instead of taking the usual requests from you guys, I would like to present you a song written beautifully by a loved one, and I hope you could all take the time to indulge in the beauty of it all.” 

With that, he turned behind for a second to give a nod to his bandmates to signal them that they could start the intro while he took another deep breath to prepare for his verse. 

Come on, Xiaojun. You can do this. It’s all for Y/N. 

Under the dim glow of the stage lights, Xiaojun carefully but professionally started off his verse as he closed his eyes as if lost in the depths of the song. With the lyrics you wrote, it was given that the song was a slow and melancholic one—setting the scene for everyone to bask in the beauty of missing a loved one. 

🎵 I hope you no longer cry over me I don’t want you to feel empty in your heart  Please don’t let me make more mistakes to you  I’ll be alright, don’t you worry about me  You know that none of us wanted to leave each other 🎵

He did his best to convey your messages through the song by placing as many emotions through his voice, causing the now silent crowd to slowly sway their bodies to match the tempo of the wonderful piece.

Just as he was finishing up the second chorus and was about to head onto the bridge, he noticed a somewhat radiant light beaming from the corners of the room, and his eyes widened with shock as he noticed what he was seeing.

It was you. Or rather, your spirit. 

You couldn’t help but smile at your past lover, looking at how good he looked while surrendering to the calamity of his beautiful voice. Those lyrics that you wrote immediately stung your heart, and tears began welling up in your eyes. 

And so did Xiaojun. But he knew that he was going to nail this performance just for you, and he was going to suck up all of his emotions as he carried on. 

🎵 I hope for us to reunite someday after I’m gone  Every day staring at the sea, we will be missing each other  Please don’t be afraid after I’m gone  Even if I’m no longer standing under the same sky 🎵

As Xiaojun hit the final high note, tears began streaming down your face as you gently cupped your mouth to control your sniffles. In return, he finally plastered on a somewhat sad smile yet yearning as he directed his full attention to you—as if he was conveying those same lyrics you wrote right back at you. 

🎵 Was it fate, was it love, were we naive or was it by chance  The pain we endured, the mistakes we made, the efforts we took  Others will consider it a wall that can’t be climbed in this cold winter But it was for what I dreamt of for so long, day and night No matter how much time passes The reason why love never changes Is because you exist with your sorrows among people 🎵

As the song slowly ended, the crowd immediately stood up to give Xiaojun and his bandmates a standing ovation—some even shed tears as they felt the message being conveyed to them. Bouquets of flowers were thrown onto the stage, with some of the regulars quickly making their way to the stage to give your lover all of the praise he deserves. 

As much as Xiaojun was distracted by all of the compliments coming his way, he never stopped to glance at you before he knew that it was time for you to take your leave. Before all of that happened, he mouthed a simple “thank you” with tears in his eyes, and your heart clenched at the sight of that. 

But you decided that you wouldn’t leave feeling dejected, and you chose to give one last genuine smile filled with longing and love to your lover.

“I will always love you, Xiaojun. In every universe we may be, you will forever be my only lover.”  

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[simplywrong]

Proper sign and a tag @itsblasttothepast First thing first let's get the Cadillac stuff out of the way: There are many theories and while I think most are fuelled by hopes and dreams of fans there are some things that are interesting. For example the posts from sponsors telling people to 'wait and see'. Do I think Cadillac might want Checo? Of course, when you are building a team you need someone with experience. Unless Lewis decides to ditch Ferrari or AM decides to cut Fernando loose I do not see who else would fit that position better than Checo. Do I think he would accept the offer? Now, that's controversial because while I think yes, I also think the contract negotiations might be a deal breaker. He won't go for anything similar to what RBR gave him (even if the payoff was sweet) and do we think Cadillac will offer more than 1+1 contracts at the start? While I think Sergio would come back as a project (and to get a better goodbye) there is a big question mark over this and even the most optimistic fans are sceptical as to if we should get our hopes up or not. Now onto RBR speculations: I can't describe how much joy I get from the fact (well not a fact but like 99% certainty) that Sergio didn't take that ambassador role (Horner and his pathetic attempt to save face are hilarious and his butthurt comments are even funnier) and that RBR can't use his image anymore (while Max can, so while I'm sure it's pure PR and a media play to make sure he doesn't get the hate RBR gets it's still funny). But even so far away from Sergio being let go we can't have a moment of peace. The interview with the guy from Telmex brought up so much shady stuff (still can't comprehend how people support Helmut after what came to light) that it's hard to stay calm. What we know almost for a fact is that Sergio got A LOT of RBR money - he is spending it like it's a competition. New clothes that make no sense? Bought. Vacation every week? Sure, why not. A new dog? Amazing. A whole building? Hell yeah. Like, can someone who knows how rich people operate tell me if he is doing it for some purpose (real estate is a good business, right? but then he can't be doing it alone, I'm sorry but he is race smart, not business smart) or is it all just a whim? Either way it's fun to see. I do believe he is doing it partially to show he is fine with the break (not that he has to but I'm sure it stings some of the obsessed haters) or to show how much money he got from RBR (he can't say it out loud but you know, there are signs). Like was he ever spending this much so quickly? And lastly just some crazy ideas based on feeling angsty: So, what if the vacations and side projects (being a face of every possible thing, just not RBR) aren't just to cheekily show he is okay and is enjoying his life? What if (and it is my delusions) he does all that to get busy and forget about how awful the last few months were? I mean, he could be doing both but you know... I read somewhere that his dad was the one who convinced him to take a break and the final decision was for his mental health but let's say that Sergio's dad is not a very good source of info on this but still, it could be true, right? I think it could be possible that the season tired him more than anything ever before and he needs time to rest. Which would be okay but also sad. So my theories in short are: - Sergio to Cadillac with Max (RBR is not the best right now and from what I heard the car is shit so it's possible he will switch OR retire altogether), Yuki (If he continues to beat both his teammate and generic white boy in the second RBR seat it's very much a good guess) as teammate; - Sergio does what Mika did and never announces retirement while being retired; - Sergio comes back as a reserve (we know the ex-drivers get itchy feet around half a year after being out of F1 so he might sign still); - Sergio buys his own team (he has the money, he has the power) and makes it a safe haven for his grid kids; - Nothing happens and we all die from expectations that won't be meet;

So what do you guys think?

Would anyone be intrested in hearing my delusional conspiracy theories about Checo?

[the-cookie-of-doom]

My entire day is just. Studying child development. And I don't like it (it's complicated) but it's making me really want to write a kid!fic?

Look, watching that one episode of Ingredients Did Something To Me, okay??

After some youthful indiscretions when he's a teenager, Kim get's a girl pregnant. Korn finds out and makes the problem go away. Kim might not find out at all, until years later, when the girl - now a woman - presents him with a toddler and tells him it's his. And Kim is shocked to hell, but if nothing else, he's loyal to his family, and holy shit this child is his family.

Or maybe Korn deals with the problem in a different way. He's not averse to raising bodyguards, Kim says as much himself. He could easily take care of the mother (either paying her off, attic-wifing her, or killing her), with the intention of raising his grandson to be the next heir after Kinn. He knows the chances of getting a child out of Kinn are slim to none. Now he won't have to worry about that. He has a grandchild that he can raise in his own image, in secret.

This is going to get long so I'm going to continue under a cut

However it happens, Kim eventually finds out, and like hell he's going to let anyone keep him from his child. It will take him a while to get used to the idea, to lean into fatherhood, but he's not going to let his own father raise his child to be a killer. Kim sees a chance to break his generational trauma and he takes it with both hands and runs.

Kim has no idea how to be a father. He didn't have a good role model. He know show he's raised, and he knows he won't be the same, so he just. Tries to do the opposite of whatever he went through as a kid. (He's probably the overly-permissive type, but that won't be a problem until later.)

Kim also doesn't have time to be a father. He's in his last year of university, he has a career to manage. Korn of course offers to help - with Kinn running the family now, he can play the part of doting grandpa, but Kim refuses. Hires a nanny (maybe the one that took care of him as a child, the only one he trusts with his own) to help him figure this all out.

The official story, as far as WiK goes, to protect his clean image, is that the toddler is his baby brother. WiK is seen as the sweet, doting older brother when they're seen in public together (which he tries to make sure isn't often, but he's not going to raise his kid in a box, fuck that). It melts the hearts of all his fans, and no one knows he was a teen parent, a terrible role model, someone to scorn.

At some point in their interactions, Kim lets it slip that he has two brothers, and Chay is confused. He knows about the toddler, but Kim mentioned two older brothers? So doesn't that mean he has three?

Eventually Kim introduces Chay to his kid, and Chay isn't stupid. He was raised by his own brother, he knows what that looks like, and it's not what he sees now. His suspicions are confirmed the first time Kim lets him into his apartment. He tries to hide all of the baby things, but Chay snoops a little bit. Finds a child's room behind a door that should have been locked. He confronts Kim, very gently, with the truth. He doesn't judge. He sad that Kim feels the need to hide, even from him, but he understands.

He also thinks the image of Kim with his son is so much cuter than the idea of him with a baby brother.

Kim lets himself be a little reckless, lets Chay spend more time with him and his son, and it hurts how easily Chay takes to him. Like they're a little family of their own. But it's not real.

The first time Kim lets - no, specifically asks - Chay to babysit, because he has no one else, his nanny is sick, and there's no one else he trusts with his son (which is a shock for both of them on it's own), leads to a dramatic shift in their relationship. Kim can't keep pretending this is just a friendship of convenience. He trusts Chay, maybe more than he should, but he can't deny it.

It's going to make the breakup so much harder, because his son is old enough to love Chay, to miss him, to ask where he is when he stops coming over, and Kim doesn't have a good enough answer. Is barely holding himself together, without the added pain of consoling his heartbroken child, crying for Chay to come home while Kim has to keep himself from doing the same.

TBH, the kid is probably how they reconcile. Next time SomethingTM happens and Kim doesn't have anyone to watch him, his first instinct is to call Chay. But he's not allowed to do that anymore. So he drops the boy off with Uncle Tankhun (and is barely able to make him leave that horrible house with his child inside, but Khun is fierce, he'll protect him) and at some point Chay comes to see Khun, and finds him playing with the kid who missed Chay so much, and he knows he should leave, but when he tries the kid cries until he throws up (it's gross, but it's also sweet, but it's also so, so heartbreaking) and Chay just. Can't. Kim might hate him for it, but he can't break that little baby's heart all over again.

After, both Tankhun and the kid demand regular visits. (Khun knows exactly what he's doing. Yeah he loves his nephew, the kid is in that excited dress-up stage and lets Khun treat him like a little doll, but he also thinks Kim is an idiot and needs to start talking to Chay again, and if this is what happens, then so be it).

Little kiddo excited tells Chay about anything and everything, and then does the same to Kim, telling him about his day, all the fun things he did with Uncle Khun and Uncle Chay, and. It hurts. Kim was not at all prepared for how much it hurts.

It continues this way for a while, with the kid an unintentional carrier pigeon between Kim and Chay, sharing aspects of their lives to each other. They never cross paths because Chay always makes sure he's not there when Kim drops him off or picks him up.

Until one day he is. Kim was late (his latest mission was particularly bloody, he had to take extra time to get himself cleaned up and put back together, he won't let his son be exposed to this part of his life) and his son is inconsolable. Chay is trying his best. Just got him to sleep in his lap when Kim finally drags himself, looking fierce until his eyes fall on his son in the arms of the man he loves, and he softens, and Chay sees it, and. They really need to talk.

But kiddo is still sleeping, and Kim doesn't want to wake him up just yet, so he just. Sits down. Looking at him because he can't look at Chay, and Chay tells him how worried kiddo was (doesn't say how worried he was, too), and how he's been fussy all night. Kim lets it slip how much kiddo missed Chay/looks forward to seeing him now (doesn't say how much he missed Chay, and always hopes for a glimpse of him, always disappointed when he isn't there)

They have a lot to work through, but it's impossible to fight with the kiddo sleeping in Chay's lap, so they're forced to be adults about it. Talking quietly, with Kim admitting to things he never thought he'd be able to say out loud. Does say how much he missed Chay, and how he never should have left Chay alone, and how he never should have let Chay think he never loved him, because he did, so much he saw a future with Chay that scared him, and he ran, because he couldn't bear it if Chay left him first, better to break his own heart

Chay forgives him. They don't get together immediately because forgiveness isn't the same as acceptance, and they still have things they need to work through. But he stops avoiding Kim, and sometimes Kim calls him instead of Khun when he needs an impromptu baby sitter, and slowly, that little family that Kim never let himself dream about starts to take form in front of his eyes, and he wonders how he could have ever let himself run away from this.

[bunnieswithknives]

The idea of Dale not feeding himself for possibly days on end is terrifying when you consider that might result in him not feeding the actual newborn baby he's in charge of for similar amounts of time.

Dale is absolutely not in charge of feeding Dev. Devs primary caretakers have been au-pairs.

Dales eating disorder is just about the only trauma he's made sure Not to pass on. Even if he denies it he is aware that his eating habits are fucked, he just cant bring himself to do anything about it. If there's one thing Dale always makes sure of its that Dev at least has access to food.

[thedevotionaltour]

even for period typical ableism it still drives me nuts for karen to go oh poor matt how can he deal and get around as if he hasn't been blind most of his life at this point and living on his own by himself as an adult for his entire adult life after college and has also lived in the city his whole life like girl use your damn brain he can get around by himself just fine. good god. like take five seconds to use your brain. literally adult man who lives by himself if nothing else that should tell you he is fine and when he needs assistance has the knowledge and ability to go get it you act as if he can't even walk on the sidewalk by himself. he literally shows up to work by himself. it drives me up the wall sometimes how she sees proof of him functioning fine independently literally witnesses it on the daily and still thinks these things. like again foggy isn't great either bc again the period typical ableism (and just general ableism in the world outside of this period as this is a common attitude of viewing disabled people as helpless and unable to function even if they are people who do live independently (and im not touching on people who do need extra support and caretaking in this context. as this post is about these characters in the context of a story. so im talking about what we see there instead of any truly meaningful nuanced way) but the writing here is like. Particularly this way due to the time) he has a modicum more of understanding that matt is literally a capable grown adult man. literally told karen matt is a big boy who can handle himself and then karen went b-b-but you forget he's blind as if foggy hasn't known him for years of his life and is his best friend like PLEASE SEE HIM AS AN ADULT. I AM GOING TO GO INSANE. PLEASE RESPECT HIM IF YOU LOVE HIM SO DEARLY. AND EVEN IF YOU DIDN'T. JUST RESPECT HIM AS A PERSON!!!!!!