#when the truth is i had been processing the layers of things all week

[theragamuffininitiative]

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[lavenderspence]

unexplained sadness | A.H.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader | Word Count: 2.5K

Content warning: pre-established relationship, depression, mental health struggles, mentions of therapy, angst, supportive!aaron

Summary: you've struggled to find a way out from under the darkness for years, but you were thankful he offered the final push you needed.

A/N: I drafted this a few days, contemplating if I should even post it. it's very self-indulgent. I wrote it at a time when I wasn't able to understand my own feelings, and im still not sure how. I think this is the realest my writing has been, but i do think I'm posting this with the most vulnerability as well. I want you all to remember, just in case you're struggling - you're amazing, you're enough and I believe in you. Life is crazy, but it will get better, allow yourself to be patient, and most importantly, take the greatest, most gentle care of yourself 💕

masterlist

You looked around, well aware of the amount of relief that should be flooding your body right now. It usually did at the end of a case, where another monster was put to rot in a cage much appropriate for its’ sins. 

But even knowing what you should be feeling, the simple truth was - you weren’t feeling anything at all, and you hadn’t for a while. 

And even when you did feel something, you could never explain it. It was a mess, where many emotions fought a battle, but in the end, all it came down to was an endless void where the darkness and despair of the unexplained won out.

The only thing you could feel at that moment was the pressure of the vest compressing against your chest. It stole the little amount of oxygen in your lungs in favor of an overwhelming amount of hidden sadness. 

Even with the sun high up in the sky and the warmth it was supposed to spread all over your skin, you felt cold - no warmth actually penetrated the top layer of your skin. And the chatter - EMTs, police officers, and outlookers, you couldn’t process anything at all. 

It was like you were standing there, like a statue, a headstone to remind everyone of your presence once upon a time, but not anymore. Physically, you were alive and aware, but mentally, you’ve been fighting a battle you could confidently admit you were losing. 

Your thoughts were deeply wrapped in a cobweb of confusion and melancholy, a never-ending cycle that couldn’t stop repeating itself. It felt like you didn’t exist outside the realm of your own despair. Each day the shadows around you persisted in their pursuit of you, dragging in with them this empty feeling, designed to leave you feeling like a loner. 

The string holding you tethered to the person you’d been before was tinning each day as the distance between you grew bigger and bigger. You no longer even felt her presence at all. For weeks you’ve fought a silent battle against your own mind, and even your body sometimes. 

You tried to hide behind a mask of fake smiles and nights spent around the people you trusted most, hoping you’d feel better, but you never did. You only felt this state you were in, as it gained speed and grew in volume. 

But there was a certain pair of eyes that saw the subtle changes in you, straight into a place even you couldn’t see. Warm chocolate, sometimes shining amber in the sun - somehow strict but also oh so soft. 

You thought you hid it well, but you could never hide yourself from him, and you should have known. 

Your hotel room was dark and quiet, safe for the gentle light and sound that came from the TV. A movie was playing, an early 2000s song in the background. The duvet felt heavy over your body, and you longed to kick it off in an effort to feel less trapped, but you couldn’t find the strength to. It was like your whole body was paralyzed in a fatal position with your muscles locked and your eyes open but unseeing. 

Case after case came, and each day it got harder. You had to try and perfect a mask you were getting tired of wearing, tired of hiding behind. You couldn’t skip work, lest you wanted to feel like more of a failure than you already did sometimes. 

You felt scared to admit to your struggles, half unsure what your struggles were to begin with, half unwilling to unload on others. You were willing to suffer and fight this on your own until you either had nothing left to fight against or no strength left to fight at all.

Your mind was working overtime, half empty and dark, half full and constantly spinning, you didn’t even process the foreign sound at first. Only it wasn’t so foreign - a series of gentle raps or someone’s knuckles against the door. Knocking. They were just enough to alert you of a newcoming presence but not disturb you or others in any way. 

You didn’t move a muscle. Even when two more knocks followed, even more gentle than the first, all you could do was blink. Even with the soft call of your name that came seconds later, you couldn’t find the strength to answer or even get up. You couldn’t even twitch. 

You stood there frozen in place, in time. Frozen between the walls of a prison of your own mind’s making. 

The knocks stopped, as did the voice calling out your name, maybe finally resigned to the fact you weren’t answering at all. 

Giving up on you the way you’d given up on yourself. 

You would be surprised if you didn’t feel a tiny bit of relief at being left on your own. Too bad the relief didn’t actually last long - just seconds after the lock beeped, signaling it was unlocked, and the door was slowly opening, bathing the room in the hallway light. 

Even with the small, hesitant steps this person took, you were instantly able to tell by the sounds of his feet hitting the wooden floor who it was. 

“Did you know it’s actually illegal to break into someone’s space?” Your voice came out raspy from misuse. You weren’t sure how much time had actually passed since you made it to your room, but if you had to guess, probably several hours had gone by.

“I do know that actually, it’s criminal law 101.” He retorted before you felt the mattress dip close to your feet, “You missed dinner.” He mussed.

A part of you couldn’t handle having a conversation with him, not right now. Not in the complete darkness, and the quiet stretched between you both. 

“I wasn’t hungry.” You answered simply. You waited for him to say something, and you waited and waited, and he wasn’t saying anything. It was like he was looking for the right words to use, so as not to offend you, or set you off. But you wouldn’t feel any of it if he did - just as the night was dark outside and so was your mind. 

“Just spit it out, Hotch.” You finally used a part of his name, unintentionally closing the distance the smallest bit even when you tried to stay away. Maybe subconsciously you knew you could trust him, if a little.  

“You’re not doing well.” 

You didn’t even hesitate. “Wow, way to show you aren't actually a gentleman.”

“I’m not trying to...” You could almost see him shaking his head, so in tune with his reactions from years of working alongside him, “I’m worried about you.” It left him in a whisper, like he was afraid to admit it. 

“I’m okay, there’s no need.” You denied it like it was your biggest defense against his accusations. Except they weren’t that, genuine worry dripped along with his words, but you had a hard time accepting it. You couldn’t, didn’t want to. Being vulnerable, especially in front of him, could cost you a lot, and with the way you’ve been living, you couldn’t afford it.

Even when deep in your heart you trusted him with everything, even yourself. 

You felt him place his hand on the duvet, enclasping his palm around your calf. “You were okay five weeks ago, and you haven’t been since then. I’ve been watching you wear a mark and barely holding yourself from falling apart. I don’t think ‘okay’ applies right now.” 

“I thought we promised not to profile each other.” You muttered brokenly, feeling parts of the mask he was talking about cracking in places. It was like having him so close, peeling your outer layers slowly, and leaving you exposed, finally making your emotional reactions coincide with your lack of understanding. It was like he was exposing all of you both to himself and you too. 

“Not at the expense of suffering in silence, we didn’t.” He answered with conviction, no hesitation. He was making it apparent your wellbeing was more important to him than any promise he might have made to you or others. He was letting you know he was prioritizing your health over everything else. 

He understood you even without you having to say anything. Just by watching you try to swim to the surface of the ocean and still being pushed by the crashing waves, he could already feel that you were struggling. 

He could see you were self-isolating, even when you were being surrounded by people. He picked up on the signs in the subtle subject changes you made whenever someone asked anything about you. You were unwilling to share, even though you loved sharing any little detail about your interest, allowing others to do the same. 

You let Garcia talk about her software and cute animals and allowed Reid to share any little fact with you he could. But even when you listened, it wasn’t hard to see you really weren’t. Staring into spaces or faking an interest, even though he knew you would be interested in the first place, had there not been anything amis to begin with. 

And slowly piece after piece had started falling together, like a puzzle started, yet left abandoned. 

In the darkness of the hotel room, miles away from your home and mere doors down from the rest of your team, a piece deep inside you started longing for the understanding he was offering. It started building up with worry over the reality of the words you knew you needed to say but were too scared to. It started wishing for a new slate, where the overwhelming amount of confusion and empty darkness no longer followed you like a shadow. 

It slowly started coming to terms with the fact that you weren’t enough to fight this on your own and that maybe you needed help to do so.

For the first time in weeks, months, who knew, maybe even years, you wanted to talk about it. You wanted to admit to your state of mind where reality got mangled with your deepest darkest thoughts imaginable, where self-doubt and the feeling of worthlessness took over. Where giving up sounded so much better than trying out again. Where any positivity was instantly turned into negativity whether you liked it or not. 

For the first time you craved being helped, you wanted to understand your own struggles and get better. You wanted to thrive in the life you were living instead of settling for simply existing. You wanted to talk, and you wanted to tell him all that. 

You rolled your lips between your teeth before you bit down until you tasted blood. One of your hands barely made it out from underneath the warmth of the duvet before you grabbed into the bedding with a tight fist. 

“I don’t think I’m doing okay, Aaron.” You whispered into the darkness. The bed dipped and groaned as he moved closer, settling just centimeters away from your cocoon this time. You were so busy looking over the skyline that you didn’t even see his hand move until you felt his warm palm overtop your skin. He held onto you, trying to prompt you into releasing the bedding, tapping his fingers in a gentle manner. 

He was offering you comfort without really saying or doing anything. He was letting you try and put your thoughts together before you entrusted him with the truth. 

“One minute I’m good, and the next it feels like I lose all touch with my own self and my feelings - It’s all empty, or an overwhelming amount of sadness I couldn’t begin to even understand. I can’t even grasp what prompts this sudden change. I’ve tried fighting it for so long, years maybe, and each time it comes back, I’m left feeling more hopeless than the last.” You explained in a small voice. 

A wave of relief, if small, rocked your whole body. There was something freeling about saying it out loud, ignoring the fear of admitting that had followed you for years. 

“Have you ever told anyone about it?” His voice was just another shadow in the room. A timbre so calm, quiet, and soothing that you knew he was listening with no reservations and no judgments. Just a pure need to help.

You went to shake your head, but remembered you were both still looking towards the window. “I’ve always played it off as a joke. I’ve never let it sound like I really mean it. Not like I do right now.” It was one of the many truths you’d admitted to that night. Even when you played it off, you knew deep inside it was a small cry for help you didn’t want to. You were unwilling to take the right steps in order to get the help you needed. 

“Why joke about it?” You thought about it for a second, trying to clear out the fog of the past.

“I guess…” Your fingers clenched underneath his own. “I guess I just wanted to see if anyone cared enough to ask if I was serious. They didn’t.” Realistically, you knew you shouldn’t wait on other people or expect them to see something amiss before you looked for help. But a part deep enough inside you wanted the reassurance that someone loved you enough to notice.

“But you want to get help?” He mumbled, still tapping his finger against your own.

“Yes.” You didn’t even have to think about it. You owed yourself that much, and all the help possible you could get.

“Okay.” He exhaled in relief, “As soon as we get back, we’ll start looking, yeah?”

“Yeah.” You whispered. You felt his hand squeeze your own in reassurance. You turned your palm up, enveloped his own hand, and gave him one back, “Thank you, Aaron.”

A few minutes of looking at the starless sky passed before he prompted you to move, if just enough to walk into the bathroom and wash your face - and you did. When you came back, he’d made himself comfortable leaning against the headboard, legs stretched on the mattress. 

He spent the night sleeping in yesterday’s clothes, trying to make sure you were doing okay and weren’t left feeling lonely. 

You knew there was a long path ahead of you - the path to self-understanding and acceptance of your own flaws and struggles, as well as the changes you may need to adapt to moving forward. Something you were undoubtedly going to have a hard time with. Where you’d need to fight against the days when you questioned whether it was worth it. Where you’d slowly have to come to terms with the fact that as long as you were making yourself happy and keeping yourself afloat, there wasn’t anything worth more. 

The path to recovery was never supposed to be easy or linear, but you had him to thank for being the final push. You had to be thankful for each minute of the time he gave you. And each grain of love he showed you in the process. 

You needed the help - for yourself, your past, your present, and your future self. And for every second you spent failing to understand the person you were and the feelings you held onto.

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!!!

[muzzlemouths]

Were the DMD boys ever witnesses to a baby's firsts? Like first words or first steps?

Superstar Shopping Center, circa 1977

“Did you need help with that?”

Sun moseys up to a mother who looks like she’s got her hands full – literally. Four shopping bags balanced on one arm and a baby in the other. A second child — five or six, if he had to guess — clings to the tail of her mother’s jacket in lieu of a free hand, dressed in her Sunday Best. She ducks behind her mother’s arm as Sun nears and addresses him with a look tied between awe and apprehension.

Contrarily, her mother regards Sun with nothing but relief, handing over all but one of her bags the moment his hands extend to take them. “Well, thank you!” She reorients the remaining bag to sit at her elbow so the little girl at her side has a proper handhold and gently scolds her for continuing to hide.

“It’s quite alright,” Sun assures her with a kind smile. He crouches to be more at eye-level with the child and offers her a little wave, taking no offense to the way she peeks only slightly out from behind her mother. “That’s a very pretty dress,” he says. It’s a Carter's collared plaid, Christmas-time red, with a white dog-eared collar and rabbit embroidery. Perfectly suited for the season. “Are you headed somewhere special?”

“Just down to Shutterbug,” the mother laughs, answering Sun’s question when her daughter doesn’t budge. “I know it’s still early in the season, but I have an endless list of things to get around to before the month’s end, so we’re just going to get our photos done now, and the family will just receive their cards a little early, this year.”

“Oh, certainly,” he nods sagely, as if he’s even once sent a Christmas card himself, “better to get it over and done with before everyone and their mother realizes they’ve forgotten to sign and seal their envelopes!”

“Exactly!” She laughs again. “I figure, well, I might as well get some gift shopping done since I’m already here, but–”

Right on cue, the infant in her arms begins to wail his poor little head off, and she grimaces.

“Finding it hard to get anything done with your hands full?” Sun asks, waiting for her nod before continuing. “Well, that’s nothing I can’t fix! I could carry your other bags for you, or–”

“Could you babysit?”

He straightens with a jolt, nearly dropping the bags he already carried in the process. “Oh! Well, um, company policy doesn’t exactly allow me to–”

“It would just be for a few minutes. An hour, at most.” She gives him a pleading look. “You’re coded with childcare protocols, aren’t you?”

“I–” Sun scrambles for an answer. “My training extends to some childcare etiquette, but–”

“Perfect!” She lofts the infant into his arms like he is nothing more than a small sack of potatoes. “This is George. He’s nine months old as of last week, was just changed, and ate an hour ago, so he should be an angel for you.”

“W-What about his shoes?” He tucks the child against his shoulder and gestures worriedly towards his itty little toes, clothed in nothing but the navy blue footie he wears.

“Oh, don’t be silly, he’s still too young!” The woman insists, “George has only just learned how to crawl, I doubt he’ll be walking any time soon. You have nothing to worry about!”

“But–”

“I’ll come find you in an hour when I’m all finished up. Thank you again!”

The mother turns on her heel like she’s being chased out by fire, leaving Sun there in the center of the mall aisle, still as a statue and stunned into silence.

There was a kernel of truth to his words. Both he and Moon had been programmed with the know-how in terms of child rearing basics, and in fact it was the very first frame of coding that he recalls having. For what purpose, he isn’t sure. It has lied dormant beneath layers of more relevant protocols for years and only ever makes an appearance when he’s interacting with the few children the mall sees from time to time. Even still, it is nothing in the way of proper training for how to care for an infant so small, and for so long.

Needless to say, he was panicking.

The first thing he does after quieting the infant’s cries is find another employee and hand off the bags, instructing them to be brought to Shutterbug and kept behind the desk for the time being.

With his hands freed he can focus all of his attention on the child who, for what it’s worth, has been a perfect angel in the short time since he was haphazardly carted into Sun’s arms. Quiet as a church mouse after that first little outburst, and just as cute, too, the little bundle of joy looking up at him with big brown eyes full of wonder.

Sun returns his gaze with a long sigh. “Now then, what are we going to do with you?”

The protocols that once were dormant now rose to the surface and screamed at him to engage the child in “stimulating activities“, whatever that meant. Instructions for playtime involved everything from games like peekaboo and patty-cake to more developmental activities, such as playing music, coloring, or toying with building blocks. Sun doubted that Bee Gees’ hit single “Stayin’ Alive” was anything in the way of educational for the tiny tot as it played over the speakers, and — to the best of his knowledge — he can’t recall ever having access to building blocks or coloring books. That left nothing but the traditional baby games, tried and true, and easy enough!

He borrows a small blanket from a store nearby and finds a cozy spot on the floor, tucked safely between two plant boxes, to set him down. Sun finds that playing these games comes almost naturally to him — but that’s a given, isn’t it? He follows the instruction manual in his code to the letter, pride and joy overwhelming his stint of uncertainty each time he comes out from hiding behind his hands to the sound of shrill laughter, every “Peek-a-boo!” earning him a motley of giggles and a baby-toothed smile.

Distraction arrives in the form of an employee struggling to carry a stack of boxes into the store behind him. He’s on his feet and across the room in an instant as one protocol briefly overrides the other, and it’s only for a moment — just a moment — but when he turns around again it is to the sight of an empty blanket.

His charge has gone missing.

Panic overwhelms every one of his sensors, rushing along his circuits like adrenaline through veins gripping him with a fear so potent it threatens to shut down his system right then and there.

No, think! His mother said he had only just learned to crawl, which meant little George couldn’t have gone far. Unless the infant hadn’t gone anywhere by himself at all, and rather, someone had come along and–

Sun shut down that train of thought the moment it struck him. He would never forgive himself if something so terrible happened on his watch, saying nothing of what management would do to him if a child was abducted right from under his nose.

He decides the best course of action right now is to follow the same protocol he would use for any other “lost” child. Yes, lost, that’s all they were. It’s so easy to get lost in a mall as large as this one. Sun comforts himself with the knowledge that he has never let a lost child go unfound before. His success rate is a perfect 100%, and he intends to keep it that way.

First, he scans the security cameras for any sight of the child. He is sure to look in every nook and cranny, and he deflates with growing dread when that little navy footie doesn’t appear anywhere on the screens. His voice cuts through the employee radio a moment later and describes the child with every possible detail he can think of, asking that any sighting of the little straggler be reported to him immediately. He hopes against every star in the sky that the mother doesn’t happen to overhear from an employee nearby.

Lastly, he heads out in search of help.

Moon is meant to be working on the upper floor today, helping Sun handle the usual holiday rush, and his lack of response to the radio call is concerning. Not too concerning, though, given that Sun finds him right where he’d been expecting to.

That is, sprawled atop the lockers in the employee break room, one arm dangling over the side, the other resting casually over his waist, and a VOGUE magazine draped over his face.

‘Lazy’ doesn’t even scratch the surface of the words Sun wants to use. They’ve talked about this, the bad habit having put Moon in trouble a number of times already, but that’s an argument for another day.

There’s no time to mince words right now, and so he doesn’t. Instead, Sun stalks across the room and slams his fist against the lockers beneath his sleeping coworker, who sits upright with such force that his head makes contact with the ceiling and crashes through like a train into glass.

It might have been funny if Sun wasn’t as whipped up into a panic as he is, but as it stands he can hardly even keep from raising his voice when he addresses Moon with a scowl. “Good morning, sleeping beauty,” Sun hisses, arms crossed, foot tapping impatiently. “I take it you didn’t hear my radio call?”

Moon serves him with a glower of his own, snarling deep within his voicebox as he runs his hand over the glassy side of his faceplate to ensure that it’s still intact. He has the decency to look a little guilty, if only for a moment, cerulean blue eyes lowering to the radio attached at his hip that is visibly turned to OFF.

“Of course not,” Sun tuts.

Griping, Moon dusts the ceiling powder from his shoulders. “What could be so important that you had to–”

“I lost a baby.”

The words render him speechless, a long, uncomfortable silence taking up the space between them for all of a minute before Moon blurts out, “Sun, you don’t have a baby.”

“That’s because I lost him!” Sun shrills, beginning to pace. “I was helping a mother with her bags, and she asked me to babysit, a-and I know we aren’t technically allowed to, but– but it all just happened so fast!” His arms flailed for emphasis. “She said he wasn’t even walking yet, I thought it’d be easy! Everything was going so well, too, we were playing a game of peek-a-boo and then – then someone needed help. I only had my back turned for a minute, Moon. Maybe even less! But then I turned around, and…”

“You lost a baby,” he mutters to himself. Moon runs both hands over his face, sighing into his palms. “You lost a baby,” he repeats. “How do you lose an entire child?”

“I don’t know!” Sun answers, voice cracking with guilt. “Will you help me find them?”

“Obviously.” Moon hops down from the lockers (pointedly ignoring the massive hole in the ceiling – he’d come up with an excuse to tell management later) and is already crossing the room when he speaks again. “Management will take it out on both of us if they find out, so you need to get a grip. Your face looks like you just watched someone plummet to their death, for fucks’s sake.” He pauses at the door. “Did you get a scan of their face?”

“O-Of course!”

“Good. Transfer the image to me along with any other information that might be helpful. I’ll search the exits, you take the first story department stores.”

“What about the second floor?”

He fits him with a quizzical expression, going as far as to form an eyebrow with the stars on his faceplate screen and arch it pointedly. “You said this kid wasn’t walking yet,” Moon reminds him. “If someone ‘napped the little guy, they aren’t going to stick around, much less be caught shopping. They’ll head for the exits, first.”

“I guess that’s true…”

“And if you just coincidentally happened to have been babysitting the world’s fastest crawler, they would still be stuck on the first floor,” he continues, “which is why we’re checking there first.”

“Right. Right. You’re right.” Sun’s nod is shaky at best. His hands wring together with a tension that threatens to pop the joints out of place with each anxious tug.

Moon sighs and crosses the room again to place a hand on Sun’s shoulder. “We’ll find him,” he comforts, giving the shoulder a gentle squeeze, “but we need to go now. You won’t fix anything by standing here worrying.”

“Right,” he repeats, working to smother his nerves for the sake of focusing on the task at hand. “You check the exits, I’ll check the department stores. We’ll meet up at the fountain in thirty minutes if neither of us find anything?”

“Ten minutes,” Moon asserts. He wastes no further time, leaving Sun with only that and a firm nod before pacing out of the room.

Sun hopes they aren’t already too late.

-

Their search yields nothing but more disappointment. Ten painfully long minutes of searching that ends with them meeting at the fountain equally empty handed and with no further leads.

“We’re too late,” wails Sun, already catastrophizing. “How am I going to explain this to their mother? She’ll never forgive me, I’ll never forgive me–” His fingers hook around the rays beside his chin, the thin metal groaning beneath the force and threatening to snap right then and there, “–and management — stars, Moon, we’re going to be dismantled over this!”

“Lower your voice!” Moon snaps. He looks around, ensuring that that their crime — Sun’s crime — hasn’t been overheard. Luckily, it appears the fountain has drowned out their conversation sufficiently. “You need to calm down,” he continues. “I’m sure they’re somewhere around here.”

“We’ve checked everywhere!” His left ray bends under the pressure, molding to the shape of his fingers, slowly but surely. “I should have never let this happen. What was I thinking, turning my back on them? Now they’re all alone, o-or hurt, somewhere, or–”

“Hey, hey.” Moon takes him by the wrist, careful yet firm as he pries Sun’s fingers away from his mangled ray then holds his hand at a distance, so he can’t hurt himself further. “You made a mistake,” he agrees, “but it’s not fair to hold all of that blame yourself. You have no frame of reference for this sort of thing, we aren’t meant to be taking care of children in the first place.”

“I should have known better!” Sun insists. “How can I be expected to run a daycare if I can’t even look after one kid?”

Moon freezes, his optics flickering in a blink. “We–” slowly, he releases Sun’s wrist, “–we aren’t a daycare, Sun. We’re a mall. Are…are you feeling okay?”

“I…” Alarms and notices flood his screen, blocking Moon from view. Corroded files long since forgotten behind firewalls and newly instated protocols. He looks for answers in their overwhelming code and finds nothing but more questions; a lingering sense of awareness always just out of his reach. Then they’re gone, swept away all at once as his system tidies itself up, and he can think clearly again. “We’re in a mall,” he echoes, nodding to himself, “we run a mall. We’re mascots, not – not–” He faces Moon with a calmer disposition, forcing a smile, “I’m alright, now.”

“I always preferred the term Icon,” says Moon, “’mascot’ makes us sound like those people in animal suits waving around signs outside of businesses.” He laughs, and Sun laughs, too, but it’s strained. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

He sighs with the last crumb of uncertainty. “I’m fine, just…confused, I guess. I think the anxiety is getting to me.” When he straightens again it’s with newfound gusto, a determination to make things right. “None of our employees have reported seeing anyone carting off with a baby that fits George’s description, so he must still be here. Do you want to try the second floor after all?”

“I guess it’s worth a shot,” says Moon. He takes another look around, eyes scanning the area for any possible lead, until his star-studded eyebrow arches downward. “You said he was wearing a blue footie?”

“Navy blue,” Sun nods his confirmation, “with a little white pocket on the front.”

“Like that?”

He follows Moon’s point all the way to the escalator, where good ol’ George is sat, halfway up to the second story, already, suckling at his thumb like this is any other Tuesday.

“That’s–” Sun feels like he’s going to scream, “that’s him!”

“Huh. Baby on an escalator,” he mutters inquisitively. “Never seen that before.”

“Moon!”

Not wanting to risk any more dillydallying, Sun rushes past him and beelines through the crowd, anxiety pulsing through him tenfold as he gets caught up in a group of customers gathered on the escalator themselves.

Moon takes an alternative route, opting to skip the escalator steps all together. Instead he leaps directly onto the handrail, steady and practiced, and carefully avoids his customer’s fingers as he races upward.

Sun meets him at the top an excruciating few seconds after and feels his composure slip further upon seeing him empty handed. “Where–?”

“I don’t know,” Moon interrupts, looking just as confused. “He was already gone when I got up here.”

“Seriously?” He braces both palms across his arms, hugging himself tightly so he doesn’t just rip out his rays all together. “He’s a baby, for Pete’s sake. How far could he have gone? How does this keep happening?”

“There!” Moon points a little ways off, where little George — somehow, someway — is spotted riding a runaway janitor’s cart, its wheels spiraling uncontrollably forward and headed straight for the wall.

“Stop that cart!” Shrieks Sun, already halfway across the room and hot on the cart’s tail.

The crowd is thick, clusters of customers all aiming to get their holiday shopping in before the real chaos begins, and it makes the already out of hand situation that much harder.

Sun hears the crash before he sees it, and feels his battery operated heart sink. The sight he’s met with upon finally reaching the end of the balcony is disastrous at best. The cart rests in a broken mess on the floor, having evidently bounced into a pair of trash cans rather than collide with the wall. One of said cans has toppled onto its side from the impact, and the trail of garbage leading out of it paints a perplexing picture.

Moon catches up with him a minute later, fans whirring like he’s out of breath. “Is he–”

“Gone,” Sun answers, aghast. He points to the breadcrumbs (literally) that trail out of the toppled can. “I think he fell into the garbage.”

“Well, that’s better than the wall,” hums Moon. “Maybe it cushioned his fall? And then the trashcan fell over…” he trails off.

“And he just…crawled out?” Sun finishes the thought, then raises his chin. The two share a dumbfounded expression.

“Sun, what kind of mutant child did you agree to babysit?”

“Don’t be rude!” He chastises. “George is just…special.”

“Yeah, specially designed to outwit us. They should have called him Curious George.” His eye follows the garbage trail until it peters out a few feet down. “Where do you suppose he went now?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Sun groans. “Should we split up?”

“Good idea. You take the east wing, I’ll go west. Reconvene in thirty minutes?”

“Ten,”‌ corrects Sun, grimacing at the deja vu. “His mother promised an hour, and it’s already been over half of that. If we can’t find him in ten minutes, then we - we–”

“We are going to find him,” Moon assures, bolstering Sun’s confidence as best as he can. “We just need to focus, alright? No more running around like chickens with our heads cut off.”

Sun nods his agreement. “Right, okay. You’re right. I won’t let a baby run me in circles around my own mall.” His frazzled expressions calms, at that, and he smiles. “Just a nine-month infant who crawls a little faster than normal, that’s all he is. Easy peasy!”

-

What happens next is neither easy nor peasy. In fact, calling it ‘running circles’ is an understatement. In the next ten minutes alone, little George sends both of them out on nothing short of a wild goose chase, appearing in nigh impossible positions each and every time and always just out their grasp.

Sun is the first to find him. Tucked into the one corner of a store that the cameras don’t reach, donning a pair of sunglasses of all things (upside-down, mind you), and playing with a silicone whisk from the kitchenware section. Sun is only a short distance away when a customer taps him on the shoulder and asks where they can find the bathroom. Of course, the little tot is already gone when he turns back around.

A few meters down, Moon discovers some discarded sunglasses on the floor. He spots a familiar pair of white padded feet a moment later and finds George climbing the side of an information kiosk. The employee inside is busy with a customer and doesn’t even notice the little rascal scaling the grounded kiosk sign like he was born to climb Everest. They notice Moon, though, and are all too eager to introduce one of the mall’s very own mascots to the customer who is, apparently, visiting for the very first time. It’s all Moon can do just to act polite in front of the woman as his guest-orientation protocols take over, keeping him paralyzed there even as the infant merrily drops from the sign and disappears from his sight.

Five minutes later Sun hears a shrill of laughter and turns around a corner to see George playing in the plant trough like it’s a sandbox, his navy footie all but smothered in dirt. An internal scream rips silently through his system as he grapples with the knowledge that he’s now going to get an earful even if he does successfully get his hands on the kid.

True to character, George is nowhere to be found when Sun winds up in front of the planter. He calms his nerves and protocols alike by fixing the poor flowers back into their proper position from where they had been carelessly plucked out and thrown aside. He knows there’s no saving a few of them, and he’ll need to reorder more seeds to make up for it, but that’s a headache for another day.

The current source of his vexation appears to have shown some mercy, at least. Sun finds a trail of muddy footprints leading out of the trough and down the aisle. An employee glances up from their storefront desk upon seeing him and points to the right, towards the candy store, knowing exactly what he was looking for, already. For the life of him, Sun cannot understand why they — or anyone else for that matter — hasn’t thought to stop the runaway infant. Apparently, a nine month old crawling around without parental supervision is nothing to bat an eye at to anyone in the mall’s entire vicinity.

Moon is passing by Waning Lights theater when he hears a small commotion inside. On a hunch he peeks in, expecting nothing in particular, and instead sees two enormous baby hands covering the screen. That is, two very small baby hands waving in front of the projector.

He’s up the steps in a matter of seconds, mechanics racing with the adrenaline of having finally caught the little devil, only — of course — the little hands have already disappeared, and the seat is empty, leaving only a confused employee where he once was. “You’re joking…” Moon whispers, exhausted. An already irritated customer shushes him from somewhere downstage. Distantly, he hears the telltale sound of infant babbling and begrudgingly follows it out of the theater again.

He bursts through the door and right into Sun, colliding with a loud clatter of metal and recoiling, each holding their heads respectively and groaning in perfect unison.

“Did you find him?” Sun asks around a wince.

“Technically yes, but–”

“He got away from you too?”

Moon nods. “What is it with this kid?”

“I don’t know, but we need to figure out a different plan soon. We’re already over our ten minutes.” He looks around once more for good measure, knowing the child couldn’t have gone too far, already, if they had both just spotted him a moment ago.

That’s when he sees it. Little George, nine months old, walking down the balcony aisle. Rather, the little tike is running like he’s off to the races.

“Well, that explains why he’s been able to get everywhere so fast,” says Moon, following Sun’s gaze. “I thought you said he was only starting to crawl?”

“He’s, um, a fast learner?” Sun answers sheepishly. He watches George go for all of one long, lovestruck moment — feeling like a proud parent himself — before the swell of pride in his chest shatters to make way for circuit frying terror.

See, little George has shown himself to be quite the impressive little acrobat. He can walk, he can run, he can climb, and at that very moment he is making quick work of closing the distance between himself and a stack of boxes pressed up against the balcony railing.

The only thing awaiting him on the other side is a long, long fall.

Sun darts forward without a word, but Moon is faster, weaving through the crowd with a nimble speed that he cannot compete with. “We aren’t going to make it,” Sun gasps, announcing it to himself, mostly, as horror grips him throughout. Even if they reach the railing on time, George is already at the top of the stack, raising himself onto unsteady feet and peering out into the great beyond. He’ll be over the edge before they can stop him, and they won’t make it to the first floor on time to catch him there.

But then Sun hears it; the whir of a wire, quick and sturdy as it races through its ceiling track to Moon’s beck and call. He watches its metal hook begin to lower from a few paces away, just as the infant topples up and over, and his body seizes with fear as Moon leaps over the railing after him.

He hears a click, the wire latching out of sight, going taut. Sun holds his breath until the sound of giggling follows. Peering warily over the railing, hands shaking, he sees Moon dangling halfway to the floor. Little George bounces in his arms, clapping and cheering and laughing away like this is all just another game.

Moon lowers himself the remaining distance to the floor as Sun scrambles down the elevator to meet him. He looks rightfully shaken, his faceplate screen blank of even stars, but his grip remains persistent. He’s not going to risk putting the kid down for a moment, even if he feels like he’s going to bluescreen any second now. Their landing is celebrated with the undeniable sound of George taking the world’s largest shit, and though Moon wants to be angry, all he manages to come up with in response is “Me too, kid.”

A voice calls over their internal radios right as Sun’s feet hit the floor.

“Can someone ring the mascots?” Asks the employee, “I’m stationed at Shutterbug with a customer and she says they have her baby…?”

“I’m on my way!” Sun answers the radio aloud. He takes the baby from Moon, who extends George to him from a distance, grateful — now more than ever — for their ability to turn off their nose receptors.

“What about the footie?” Moon gestures to the dirt-soaked clothes once his hands are free. “I don’t think she’s going to be happy if he’s brought back all dirty – or naked. That might be worse.”

On a whim, Sun turns George over to check the footie’s tag. Relief floods his system when he reads the name. “We carry this brand – I’ll bet anything that we have this exact footie somewhere in the store. Can you go find it?” He makes a face and turns his own nose receptors off a moment after. “Maybe a pack of diapers, too,” he laughs. “Oh! Can you also pick up a rabbit from Fluff-&-Stuff?”

“What about you?”

“I’m headed to the bathrooms so I can clean the little guy up.” He holds George up, then, wielding him like a stinky little weapon. “Unless you want to try changing a diaper?”

“Navy blue footie with a white pocket, got it,” answers Moon, already turning on his heel and heading in the opposite direction.

-

Ten minutes later, Sun exits the bathroom feeling like a brand new person. A scarred, mortified person, but new all the same. Who knew baby poop could be so traumatizing?

Moon had returned a moment before, toting with him the items that Sun had requested, and together they figured out how to dress the freshly cleaned child in a new diaper. Whoever said it wasn’t rocket science was right. It was somehow worse. Still, they persevered, and at the end of it all they had a clean, happy, freshly diapered baby to show for their efforts. Now it was just a matter of delivering him back to his mother.

“Why did you want the rabbit?” Moon asks as he trades over the stuffed animal, happy to hold little George now that the little tike isn’t a stink grenade.

“You’ll see,” answers Sun, refusing to elaborate. He rounds the corner with Moon following at his heel and steps into Shutterbug, greeting the mother with his best customer-pleasing smile. “So sorry for the wait, ma’am. George here had a bit of an accident on our way back.”

The woman tuts guilty, but is happy to see them all the same. “Oh, goodness, how embarrassing. I can pay for the diapers you used.”

“Nonsense!” He tells her with a casual wave of his hand, “We’re happy to lend a hand, and it’s not like the little guy could help himself.”

“You’re a sweetheart,” she smiles. “And he behaved for you, otherwise?”

Sun glances over his shoulder at Moon, and the two share a look.

Nodding, Moon steps forward and hands the child over when his mother extends her arms for him. “He was an angel,” Moon tells her.

They had both already agreed to keep their mouths shut on the entire ordeal, including and up to George’s newfound capabilities. Aside from how much trouble they would both find themselves in if anyone ever found out about the chase this single child had put them through, it simply wasn’t their place to mention it. Sun, especially, didn’t want to take away that special moment when his mother rightfully deserved to have it to herself.

“Well, I’m glad to hear it,” she sighs with relief. “Thank you again for watching her. You two are a real blessing, you know that? I wouldn’t have been able to get all my ducks in a row without your help.”

“Anytime!” Sun answers. He spots a plaid dress hiding behind her, and lowers himself into a crouch. “Hello, again,” he calls to the little girl using his kindest voice, and extends the stuffed rabbit for her to take. “I noticed you had some bunnies on your dress, so I thought you might like this.”

Behind him, Moon relaxes into a fond smile.

“That’s very kind of you,” says her mother, who nudges her forward gently. “Go on, it’s okay,” she reassures her. “It’s a gift.”

The child hesitant, but eventually she peeks out from behind her mother just enough to take the offered rabbit, which she tucks against her chest in a great, big hug. “Th…Thank you,” she whispers. Then, feeling brave, she rewards him with a gap-toothed smile.

Moon clears his voice-box. “Well, we should let you get to it,” he says, full-well knowing that Sun would stay here cooing at the children all day if he let him.

And Sun, for what it’s worth, knows exactly what the vocal nudge means, and detaches himself from the family with a wave and some merry goodbyes before the two of them depart together.

“That was sweet of you,” Moon comments once they’re out of earshot. “You aren’t hoping for kids of our own, are you? I don’t think I’m ready for that level of commitment.” He elbows Sun with a smile, getting a hearty laugh out of him.

“Moon, I’ll be honest. I will be the happiest bot in the world if I never have to change another diaper again.” This time it’s Moon’s turn to laugh, and he laughs until his vocals strain with effort. “But, you know, it wasn’t too bad. Taking care of a baby, I mean. I think we make a pretty good team – and decent parents.”

“I’m the better parent,” Moon says around a wide grin. “You’re too much of a stick in the mud.”

“And you’re too spoiling!” Sun laughs, “Don’t think I haven’t seen you giving out candy to the kids that sneak off without their parents.”

“I’m teaching a valuable lesson,” Moon insists, hand flying over his heart like he’s offended by the notion. “If parents want to leave their children unattended, they have to face the consequences. It won’t be me dealing with the inevitable sugar rush.”

A gasp in the distance interrupts their playful bickering. They turn halfway, back towards Shutterbug. 

“Did you see that?” Chirps the mother, loud and clear. Her giddy voice followed immediately by the shutter of a camera. “Look – look! He’s walking!”

Again, the two share a look. Surprise becomes amusement becomes pride, then joy, and they laugh, and laugh, and laugh.

[gaybatmanenthusiast]

UNSPOKEN CONFESSIONS (oneshot)

(SID JENKINS X M! READER)

⋆★ word count : 702

⋆★ warnings : angst!

⋆★ summary : g/n has a crush on sid, and sid is still yearning for michelle. they tell him and he doesn’t know how to respond 😞

⋆★ extra : I wrote this for a request, but I lost it sorry!! (your user was lilyintheglade?)

Sid Jenkins was not the type to notice things, especially when his mind was consumed by thoughts of Michelle. For weeks now, he'd been grappling with the overwhelming crush he had on her, a crush that seemed utterly hopeless given Tony's magnetic presence. But there was one person who had been a constant in his life—G/N.

G/N had been by his side through everything, a quiet yet steady presence. They listened patiently as Sid poured out his heart about Michelle, always offering a sympathetic nod or a few comforting words. Sid had never thought much of it; he was too wrapped up in his own feelings to see what was right in front of him.

Today was no different. Sid sat on the edge of his bed, running a hand through his tousled hair. G/N was perched on the worn-out armchair in the corner, their expression unreadable as they watched him.

“I just don’t get it, G/N,” Sid began, his voice tinged with frustration. “She’s with Tony, and he’s such a... such a dickhead, you know? Why does she even like him? I mean, what do I have to do to get her to notice me?”

G/N sighed softly, looking down at their hands. Sid didn’t notice, too caught up in his own thoughts.

“I just wish... I wish I could be the one she wanted,” Sid continued, his tone wistful. “But it’s like I’m invisible to her.”

The room was silent for a moment, and Sid finally looked over at G/N. There was something different in their eyes, something that made him pause. It was then that G/N spoke, their voice quiet but firm.

“Sid, I need to tell you something,” they began, their words carefully measured. “I’ve been listening to you talk about Michelle for weeks now, and... I get it. I really do. But there’s something you’ve missed.”

Sid frowned slightly, confused. “What do you mean?”

G/N took a deep breath, gathering the courage to say what they’d been holding back for so long. “Sid, I like you. I’ve liked you for a while now, but I didn’t want to say anything because I knew you were so caught up in Michelle. But I can’t keep pretending that it doesn’t hurt to hear you talk about her all the time.”

Sid blinked, completely taken aback. His mind raced, trying to process what G/N had just said. “You... you like me?”

G/N nodded, their gaze steady despite the vulnerability in their voice. “Yeah, I do. And I just needed you to know. I don’t expect anything from you, Sid, but I couldn’t keep it to myself any longer.”

Sid didn’t know what to say. He felt a strange mix of emotions—surprise, confusion, and a pang of guilt. He hadn’t realised how much his words had been affecting G/N, hadn’t even considered that they might have feelings for him. And now, faced with this revelation, he was at a complete loss.

“I... I’m sorry, G/N,” Sid finally managed to say, his voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t know.”

G/N gave him a small, sad smile. “I know you didn’t. It’s alright, Sid. I just needed you to hear it from me. You don’t have to say anything else.”

Sid wanted to say something, anything that would make this less awkward, less painful. But the truth was, he didn’t know how to react. His heart was still tangled up in thoughts of Michelle, but now there was this new layer of confusion—feelings he hadn’t even begun to sort through.

G/N stood up slowly, giving Sid one last look. “I’m going to head out, give you some space to think. Take care, Sid.”

Sid watched them leave, the door clicking softly behind them. He sat there for a long time, the weight of their words settling heavily on his shoulders. He had a lot to think about, more than he ever had before.

And for the first time in weeks, it wasn’t Michelle who occupied his thoughts, but G/N—the person who had been right in front of him all along.

Sid was left alone, the echoes of unspoken words lingering in the room. For once, he didn’t know what to do next.

[punkypiscesell-writes]

part 2, prologue

Joel Miller x gn!/f! reader

series masterlist - chapter 5

summary: Summer has arrived and Ellie is hiding the truth of her own.

rating: mature

chapter warnings: a little bit of angst, happy vibes, no use of y/n.

word count: 2.4k

notes: Are you ready for part 2, because here we go! This will set the pieces for the upcoming chapters and next week’s one is going to be a long one. Thank you so much for reading this story so far, I appreciate and love you all!!

divider by cafekitsune

”Yeah, and you thought a laptop was the actual top of your lap!” Dina swats at Jesse’s arm and the whole group bursts out in laughter.

“Hey, it made sense to me! How would I have known it was an actual machine people used back then?”

“Mmhmm, it wasn’t until you saw one when you realised it wasn’t some story the older people had come up with,” Juno teases back. Jesse looks annoyed, but Ellie knows the hurt he’s feigning just for the group. He looks at her and gives her a conspiratorial wink before they’re all laughing again.

Ellie feels content, in this moment, in this group. She feels like she has finally found her people, with Dina, Jesse, Kit, Juno and Robbie. She zones out when they still go on about all the things that people used to have and do before the cordyceps took over. She watches them and her cheeks hurt from smiling so much. She has probably never felt this kind of happiness, or at least she has very few memories of happiness like this.  

The first time she felt truly happy was probably with Riley. They got to know each other at the FEDRA school and ended up being like two peas in a pod. Riley had an effect on others. They didn’t mess with her because they knew she’d give them back in equal measure. Ellie followed suit, growing a thick skin and a fearless surface. Under the layer of bravery she was shier than Riley, even when she always wanted to be like her older friend.

All the laughs, stories and mischiefs they got up to, it’s like a heavy feather in her heart. Riley’s laugh was contagious, her adventurous side made Ellie go with her anywhere. The time when they snuck out in the middle of the night to explore the boarded up 7-Eleven down the street from their FEDRA school is one of those memories that Ellie will probably never forget.

Riley had pulled Ellie inside through a window that was covered with flimsy boards, they were easy to pull off. The store was like a goldmine. Old, molded magazines were stacked up in one corner of the back room. A stash of cigarettes in a box under the floor. And playing cards, but they didn’t know how to play with them. So they came up with their own games, like attacking joker where they one at a time flipped a card from the stack and if it was the joker, you lost.

Riley was the one who first saw the FEDRA soldiers’ flashlights. The friends had been carelessly laughing and enthusiastically screeching while searching the place and playing their silly little games. The soldiers tried to be stealthy with their backs pressed against walls and with their hand signals. But they weren’t stealthy enough. To Riley and Ellie it looked like they tried to put up a hand puppet show with their torches.

Riley pushed Ellie out of there, through a tight hole in the wall. Ellie tripped and fell, scraping her forehead against a broken bottle in the process. Ellie scrambled to her feet, pulled Riley after her and they ran side by side in the shadows back into the school. In their room Riley took care of the wound and the next morning it didn’t look as bad as it felt.

Ellie just remembers how her heart hammered in her chest when they were in the darkness of their bedroom, only the orange tinge of the streetlight being the one Riley worked under. Riley’s fingers were so gentle and she whispered what she was doing every step of the way while cleaning the cut. At the same time she managed to make Ellie laugh, so much so that she had to hold Ellie’s shoulders firmly in place so she’d stop moving and let Riley patch her eyebrow up.

Then came along Joel. First she saw him as someone who she didn’t know how to approach. He was the complete opposite of nice and approachable. Tess was the one who made her feel seen, like she was an equal in their small group making their way towards the state house in Boston. Joel on the other hand made her feel like she was a nuisance. Someone to get rid of. Someone who he wanted to keep at a distance. Maybe he wanted just that, it would make sense.

He terrified her. She was in awe by his brute force and violence, but because he wouldn’t let her in, he was just a stone wall while Ellie tried to find cracks on the surface. When that wall started to crumble, piece by piece, he opened up and the first time she made him laugh is still fresh in her memory. He’s as close to a father she’ll probably ever have.

A wave of bitterness runs through her. Because she'll never get to spend time with Riley again, hear her laugh. Hold her hand, hug her, kiss her. She'll never get to see Tess again, to have conversations with her and get that approval of fearlessness from her. And then there’s Joel.

A few days ago she heard Tommy talking with Maria. Ellie was there to have dinner with them, Joel was joining them later after his patrol. They thought she was still in the bathroom; they didn’t hear her. Maria stayed quiet, rocking a few weeks old baby Matilda in her arms. She only listened to Tommy, who mumbled in a rush.

“Remember what I told you about Ellie? How she’s immune?”

“Yes.” Ellie’s mind went blank right whn she heard them talk about her.

“I’ve been thinking about it lately, what I would’ve done if I were Joel. I can’t imagine what I’d do if I’d need to sacrifice someone I loved just because they could save they whole world.” Matilda fussed quietly, and Ellie peeked around the corner to see Tommy reaching for her and holding his daughter in his arms. He stroked her plump cheek with his finger and then looked up at Maria, making Ellie hide back behind the corner.

“I don’t blame him from saving her. I know that girl has become like a daughter to him. And after Sarah… I would’ve done the same thing if I were in his position,” he said very quietly. Ellie heard the floor creak while Maria walked towards him.

“I know you would’ve,” Maria whispered and Tommy hummed.

“What made you think of that? We’re not going anywhere,” Maria reminded him and Ellie heard him chuckle.

“Because I couldn’t wait to get back home to my girls, and I want to have the both of you in my life for the rest of my time.”

“Tommy,” Maria’s voice was soft. “You have us.” Ellie heard them laughing quietly, but Tommy’s voice broke with something that sounded like a sob.

“You have to pull yourself together, Ellie’s gonna wonder what’s gotten to you today if she sees you crying out of nowhere. You’re in an awfully mushy mood today,” Maria’s voice was muffled and Ellie dared to take another look at the small family. Maria was hugging him and they were swaying from side to side. Her hand rubbed his back in a circle while Matilda cooed between them.

Ellie leaned against the wall behind the corner and tears stung in her eyes. She took a few deep breaths and sneaked back to the bathroom door, deliberately opening and closing it loudly so they’d hear her coming. She doesn’t know how she pulled it off, looking completely normal after suspecting what had happened at the hospital for months.

Maria set the table while Tommy held their daughter, asking Ellie questions about her interests in patrol training. And when Joel arrived, she smiled and they ate dinner like it was just a normal weekday night. They had no idea she knew. And she plans to keep it that way, she wants to bring it up at the right moment.

She wants him to tell her the truth. Because in a way she understands him, but he also took that from her. She knew it might kill her. She had thought about the possibility long before they made their way to Salt Lake City. She had made peace with it. This could all be over; people could live freely again. If Joel would’ve just let her be the answer to it all.

“Earth to Ellie,” Dina pokes her shoulder and they’re all staring at her.

“What were you thinking?” Kit asks her, their head tilting.

“Nah, it was stupid, nothing,” Ellie shakes her head, replacing the melancholic look on her face with a smile that matches the golden sunset over the town grappling with a summer heatwave. They’re sitting in the park next to the cemetery. There’s an older lady changing flowers to a vase. A couple of sad songbirds sing their nightly concert somewhere in the trees overhead.

“Please tell Robbie his idea is incredibly stupid,” Kit’s voice is full of the same worry they have on their face.

“Your idea is incredibly stupid,” Ellie tells him, but leans forward. “What idea?” Robbie’s smile widens and he looks at them all one by one.

“My dad took me to a library a couple of hours hike away, an old one.” His eyes shine when he talks to them, like he’s painting a picture. “He wanted to show me what it’s like to be a patroller, since I’m going to be one, so we went there with a couple of his friends and let me tell you, that place was nothing I had seen before. Filled with plants, but still mostly intact. As many books and movies as you could imagine. The best part, no infected.” He straightens his back, looking proud of himself.

“And what does that have to do with us?” Ellie questions. Jesse whispers something into Juno’s ear, who then leans towards Ellie.

“He’s so arrogant about it, like he’s already a patroller,” Juno rolls her eyes. Ellie smirks, before her attention is back on Robbie.

“We should go there,” Robbie whispers to an audience of head shakes.

“How would you get us horses?” Ellie asks with doubt in her voice. Walking out there in the wild seems like an exciting idea, but at the same time dangerous. “And what about weapons, we’d need to have something to protect ourselves with.” Her skin prickles from the thought of going somewhere outside the walls.

“Also, we would never get out, the gates are guarded,” Jesse reminds him, his voice strained even through his whisper.

“Even if you didn’t see infected then, it doesn’t mean there won’t be any now. Who knows how long ago it was you were there,” Kit almost spits the words through their teeth.

“Okay, we’d leave early and come back in the evening. We went there like a week ago, and we’d need to of course plan it so we won’t get caught,” Robbie’s smile doesn’t falter even when he’s faced with opposition. He looks like he thrives from it.

Dina on Ellie’s right side leans her hand on the ground, getting closer to Ellie at the same time. Ellie’s spine straightens on its own accord and a shiver runs through her. All of the small hairs on her arms rise up and she’s aware of Dina’s existence like she’d be a flame and Ellie would be a moth.

“I’m kinda interested,” Dina says quietly, and the whole group turns to look at her. “If you’re sure there are no infected and we’d plan it carefully, we could have a fun day exploring that place,” Dina tells them, her arm brushing against Ellie’s. It’s like an electric shock. She looks at Dina and she’s mesmerised by her chestnut brown eyes and her soft smile.

“If Dina is in, I’m in,” Ellie says without thinking it twice. She can’t look away and Dina’s smile grows.

“Are you serious?” Juno asks as she grabs onto Ellie’s arm. Her attention is ripped off of Dina and she looks at her other friends.

“If we manage to plan it, I think we could pull it off,” Ellie talks slowly, trying to convince herself as well. She needs this, a distraction from the disappointment and betrayal she feels when she’s at home with Joel. She needs something else to occupy her time and head with.

Most importantly, she wants to impress Dina. She wants to see that smile and that glint in her eyes when they get to the library, the wonder when they go through all the stuff that was once useful for people. And it wouldn’t hurt if she could show Dina that she’s quite capable with a knife.

“Then I’m in as well,” Jesse relents and with that, so do Kit and Juno.

They’re gathering their things, the blanket they were sitting on, the water bottles, the bottle of sider Kit had stolen from their brother and brought along and which they had all had a sip from. Ellie didn’t tell them it wasn’t her first time drinking alcohol, she didn’t want to share that part of her past or Riley with them. At least not yet.

“How long ago was it really when you were at the library?” Ellie asks Robbie, who laughs at the question. Of course she caught onto the fact that he never said when they went out there, just that there were no infected then.

“A month ago,” he whispers and smiles. Ellie smiles as well but feels dread fill her chest.

They walk in the darkening evening towards their homes, each one separating from the group when they pass a home street. Last it’s just Ellie and Dina, walking slowly side by side. It’s awkward and tense and Ellie can’t control the butterflies in her stomach.

A couple walks on the other side of the street and Ellie looks up when she hears one of them laugh with a low, flowing voice. She sees a familiar looking face and a soft smile directed at the woman you’re walking with. Diana. You don’t notice Ellie, just keep on telling Diana whatever story you were in the middle of. Ellie follows you with her gaze, turning to watch you walk towards the opposite direction.

“Isn’t that the one who lives with the therapist and her wife?” Dina asks.

“Yeah.”

“I haven’t seen them in a long time,” Dina wonders out loud.

“Neither have I,” Ellie smiles, happy relief soothing her thoughts about their plans to sneak out of town.

[leorai4life]

Analysing Leorai - differentiating rumours from reality (a 3 part analysis)

Introduction

To this day, Leorai (2012) remains a controversial ship as many view it as incestrious and therefore taboo. I understand why many would view it as much - especially if those in question haven't watched the 2012 show - and that without proper analysis the concept of "adoptive brother and sister in love" sounds pretty bad. However, I for one can say with certainty that Leorai is not a ship that is not as simple as revolving around two adopted siblings in love - as characters, be it platonically or romantically, Leo and Karai's relationship has many layers that cannot be dulled down to being one thing or the other.

Before I start this analysis, I just want to say if you're an anti Leorai shipper or just not a big fan of shipping in general, that's cool! I'm not trying to convince you to like this ship or anything - however I do hope that in reading this you can learn to respect those who do ship it.

Aspect Analysis 1 - Siblings? So, a common argument for why Leorai is "wrong" is that it's promoting incest. Well let's look at Leo and Karai's parental relationships and discuss that:

Although they both technically share a father, Splinter is barely granted the chance to form a paternal bond with Karai due to the fact that he didn't get to raise her, nor spend time with her once the truth had been revealed. Even when she was brought back to the lair and reunited with her blood father, she still chose getting vengeance over getting to know and love her blood father. Leo on the other hand was raised by Splinter since he was a child and views him as his beloved father and sensei. He looks up to his adoptive father for guidance and emotional support; he is Leo's role model, and essentially all Leo wishes to be as the new sensei.

When we compare the bond Leo has with Splinter to Karai's, Leo had more experience being Splinter's son/ward than Karai did. Even Splinter's death had more of an impact on Leo than it did Karai; Leo was filled with anger and despair and continued to "talk" to Splinter when seeking guidance, whilst upon hearing of his death Karai's response was more reserved than distraught. This is an understandable reaction, as within a couple of weeks Karai had had her whole life exposed as a lie, became a mutant, got brainwashed and on top of all that didn't even get to form an emotional and parental connection with her one true father before he too was taken from her. So yeah, it's no wonder she wasn't able to emotionally process his death like the others did (heck, even April and Casey are more bonded with Splinter than Karai is).

So to relate back to my initial point of both Leo and Karai technically sharing a father, they each share him for a different reason: Leo is Splinter's son by a lifelong bond, whilst Karai is Splinter's daughter by blood. This difference in reasoning does not make either one of them any less of Splinter's child, but this difference does make them be less seen as siblings from each other's POV. Leo was raised with his blood-brothers by the same father/sensei, under the same roof and with a shared family dynamic - so he of course views them as siblings. This is why something like Raph x Leo differs drastically from Leorai as Raph and Leo have always treated one another as siblings because it's what they're used to - so turning that dynamic romantic would make both of them extremely uncomfortable. However, Karai enters the Turtles' lives when they're well into their teens - aka, when they're beyond extreme (emphasis on extreme) influence. On top of that, her first introduction to them was 'Shredder's daughter'/'a Foot Clan kunoichi' - so taking her home and attempting to accept her as a sister didn't really work as there was an already established family dynamic between the brothers and Splinter which Karai hadn't been around to be a part of. This is why she's mainly viewed as a close friend/distant family by the bois (although bless Mikey for at least ATTEMPTING to give her the opportunity to be their sister).

Karai even distances herself from forming any sort of familial bond with the Turtles by refusing to join their Dojo and rarely instigating missions with them unless absolutely desperate - instead she opts to rebuild the Foot Clan under her rule and take her life into her own hands. And if anything, she builds herself in the image of The Shredder - a powerful leader with an arsenal of ninjas at her disposal - but with the heart and honour of her father. When Mikey queried why Karai didn't come home with them, Leo states "Well, she's not a little kid anymore - she wants to take control of her own life"; in a way, this indicates that Karai doesn't want the burden of being a part of a family. Perhaps after living a life of lies under a tyrannical "father" she just wanted to be her own person on her own - literally (well, aside from Shini).

So to answer the query of "Aren't they technically siblings?" the answer is logically no, as they do not share a sibling bond psychologically or even biologically; Leo is literally a giant talking turtle mutant...she's a human-mutant hybrid...they literally could not be more NOT related lol.

Anyways, onto the next point:

Aspect Analysis 2 - "The Turtles are blood relatives of Splinter"

I see a lot of antis use this point in an argument, saying that the Turtles share blood with Splinter so they are blood relatives.

Now speaking specifically about the 2012 show, we never get an official confirmation that the brothers and Splinter share blood. I've even searched interviews with Ciro Nieli and the most he's said is that "All the turtles share a piece of Splinter" - though he was talking trait-wise...so...yeah.

My personal view is that since they are linked to the last thing they touched (be it the pet store owner, a bunch of curious kids or Splinter himself), I do believe they share a connection with Splinter - but not in the sense that the same blood runs through their veins. I believe that when the Turtles and Splinter mutated, the Turtles humanoid appearance was created by the shared contact of the pet store owner, curious kids, and of course Splinter. The mutagen used the fundamentals of all these humans' DNA to basically ~evolutionise~ the Turtles into their humanoid selves (think of it as though they're a combination of turtle and a dose of general human DNA).

As far as I can tell, the only thing the human interaction with Hamato Yoshi (Splinter) got them is some of his core traits - a sense of honour and leadership for Leo, a fierce and protective fighting spirit for Raph, creativity and ability to improvise when under pressure for Mikey, and ingenuity for Donnie. Physically, it seems only Donnie gained something from Splinter (his reddish-brown eyes and natural tall stature) whilst the other brothers must have gained their distinctive physical traits from the other human contacts; such as Mikey, Raph and Leo having different eye colours than Splinter, Mikey's freckles, and Donnie's overbite and gap tooth. My personal headcanon is that Mikey got his empathic traits and love for pets from the pet shop owner hehe.

So essentially Splinter's foundational pieces of DNA helped to shape their roles on the team (leader, warrior, inventor and creative-and-spontaneous-ball-of-butt-kicking).

I guess a question would be "but if they all did a blood test, would Splinter be found to be related????" - my answer to that is yes, though very distantly, as their main DNA result would be a turtle (duh...) whilst the rest is a jumble of the other humans' DNA. Think of it as though you did a DNA test and got a match with a bunch of random people - it is possible to share a small amount of DNA with someone and not be related. In other words, it's possible to share genetic material and not share a common ancestor or any identifiable genealogical connection.

Aspect Analysis 3 - "INCEST!"?

This relates back to point 1 where I discussed whether Leo and Karai see each other as siblings and whether shipping them should be considered promotion of incestrious behaviours. This answer is actually really simple: no, Leorai does not encourage incest.

Why not? Because incest, by definition means "sexual relations between people classed as being too closely related to marry each other". And guess what? Not only are Leo and Karai not closely related, but they never did the deed, or even kissed. They didn't even become 'official' official in the show, so calling Leorai incest is not a fact.

In all honesty, Leorai is my favourite ship of the show because unlike the other ships they didn't need to be physical with each other (e.g. kissing, arms around each other, tight hugs, carrying in arms) to show the audience that they cared deeply for one another. They showed their love through emotional connection and the "little things". Leorai is much like Zutara for me in this sense; I'm happy with what we got because it felt more like two characters building a genuine connection that would lead to an eventual romantic relationship (be it in show or not) than having to shove it in our faces that "tHEY'rE iN LOve beCaUSe tHEy KisSed!" (*cough* Kataang).

If you as a writer can make two characters have a romantic connection without having to make them get physical then you know you've written a relationship - heck, you know you've written the characters - right. And my personal headcanon is that Leo and Karai would share an asexual relationship eventually; no smut, just wholesome love :3

To conclude: Leorai is not incest. Not biologically, not psychologically, and not even romantically. I know not everyone will agree with this as many prefer to just stick with the most popular opinion so they don't cause controversy and that's fine - but heck, I'm tired of hiding my love for this ship cuz "I'll upset someone". That someone can be offended all they want, but I'm still not gonna change myself to suit their agenda.

I'm too old to keep getting involved in anti-ship nonsense (in ANY fandom, tbh), so if you're an anti reading this I'm not gonna try fight your opinion. You can have it, and I'll respect it cuz it's your opinion. I just hope that one day we as the internet can evolve to a point where we're smart enough to just not actively search for something we despise and only focus on what makes us happy.

As for my fellow Leorai shippers- thank you for reading my ramble! I love and appreciate all of you that continue to stand by this ship, and I hope to give you more Leorai content soon! Hopefully one that isn't a ramble, haha 💙🖤

Thanks again for reading, and have a good day/evening!

[gillianthecat]

My School President episode 6

My heart just smiles everytime Gun and Tinn are together. Fourth is so good as Gun, he brings so many layers to the part. I feel like I'm seeing Gun growing up before my eyes.

I continue to appreciate how this show is playing with BL (and general Romance) tropes, both on silly visual level, with all the fantasies and this making of the BL version of a music video, and on a more serious structural level. I'm thinking of Tinn's various not-quite-confessions of his love, and Gun's reaction. The typical trope would be for Gun to be totally oblivious, but this show (and Gun) are too smart for that. He knows that Tinn likes him, but he's afraid, afraid both that he's wrong and that he's right. Being wrong would be heartbreaking and so he wants to stay in this suspended moment of not knowing the truth. And it's scary for him that he's probably right. His reason is the no dating rule, but I suspect that's just an excuse for why he's reluctant. Falling in love is scary! And so the show keeps that tension of not-quite dating going that is often achieved by one character being unrealistically oblivious, but does it in way that feels true to life.

And so I love that this show is just letting them be real and scared and yet still honest and open with each other. They both just feel so human, so much like teenagers growing up and figuring out what it means to love and be loved. Like My Only 12%, (and I Told Sunset About You) this now feel like a coming of age story as well as a BL, as Tinn and Gun are figuring out how to love and care for each other like adults. What's fascinating is that while those other shows did that by moving away from BL tropes, My School President is doing it by embracing them but then turning them inside out to examine them.

I have inchoate thoughts about how QL stories (and Romance in general) are often coming of age stories, as the characters discover their own self in the process of discovering each other. This is especially true of High School characters, but I think it holds for every setting. Old Fashioned Cupcake for example, even there the characters are growing into themselves in order to be able to love each other. But that's another post, a big sprawling one that I won't attempt now. And I do think even with that, My School President is more of a coming of age story than most.

And in terms of tropes, I adored the use of that clear umbrella, how it created a little world for the two of them, and particularly how they were trading off holding it, emphasizing that neither is the seme or uke, they aren't playing roles here of pursuer and pursued, they are just two boys who like each, trying to figure out what to do with all their feelings.

So far I'm less interested in either of the side couples (or side couple? I'm assuming Tiw and Por will be a thing but we've only had the barest hints that it's happening so far). I think because they're given more of the silly teenage shenanigans and that's fun but less compelling to me. I did like all the layers of BL tropes at work in the scene with Sound and Win's "kiss" through the medal.

Perhaps my problem with them is that the rap battle confused me—there Sound was being all mature and supportive of Win, but now he's back to being petty and combative. Was the rap battle only in that somewhat non-diegetic music video from last week? Is it just a mistake in the script or editing?

Also, it's not that important, but I was confused by the scene where they were asking each other the questions in Gun's bed, when just before they had been doing it on the phone. At first I thought it was Gun imaging they were next to each other, but they serious talk about grief and the hug made me think it was happening in real life. Was it just a continuity error? Did I miss a scene transition were Tinn was like, "I'm coming over to cuddle?" Or was it really just a fantasy?

Last thought: the economics of Thai BL being what they are, I appreciate the product placement for allowing these shows to be made. And My School President is doing the best they can with it to make it plot and character relevant. But I still find it annoying.

handing off the umbrella 🥰

[barrenclan]

WHAT.

when it was said to expect more tiny pinepaws tomorrow i just assumed that was a joke. i had no idea that there were gonna be more tiny pinepaws tomorrow, or i guess today. also i totally thought the skull on the cover was just cool symbolism, but when pinepaw found the bones the realization hit me like a truck

knowing that these were the other clans, did the dark army have enough humanity to bury them, or did time bury them itself? something tells me it’s the first, as i doubt there was enough time for sand and dirt to move to cover all of that when the clans first returned, unless they just.. denied it’s existence, much like pinepaw, which would make sense considering they’ve already been through so much, coming home to a horde of bones must be too much, if that was the case.

i just wanna give pinepaw a big hug, he’s just a little guy. he had no idea his desires to uncover the truth would lead him down a rabbit hole. finding skeletons must be awful for anyone, but with the added context he knows? geez. little guy deserves a break. maybe a bf.

speaking of potential bfs… CORMORANTPAW!!! OFFERED!! A MOUSE!! he wants pinepaw’s company!!! he’s worried for pinepaw!! he wants to make sure pinepaw eats!!!! oh my god i’m so excited about this. cormorantpaw cares for pinepaw!!! cormorantpaw seems to be opening up more, breaking down his walls and letting someone in, someone that makes him feel comfortable!! ughhh i love his development so much he’s just trying his best,,

saying that rainhaze’s effort saved the clan from more deaths than harebreeze makes me think. harebreeze was the father of him and slugpelt? i think? so i wonder if the death of his father caused a drive to make sure nobody else did. or it could be something like wanting to make sure his new nieces and nephews stay alive!! i want to know if rainhaze is okay i love him :( he’s just a silly guy. wet cat

of course u explained what shining town meant, it was a reference, but while reading i actually took it in a different way, so i’ll just throw this here too. barrenclan has a sense of this is how life is. it’s hard, but they’re safe. as long as things keep going the way they’re going, they’re be the shining town, they’ll continue being safe. however, as pinepaw finds, their territory is laced with the dead, saying how the shining town they chase for can’t be that possible if their illusion of safety lives untop of countless graves.

also daffodilpaw and redpelt were both on the same panel. 10/10 issue will issue again

EHEH I'm loving people's reactions that are just like WHAT?? WAS THAT??

When I promised tiny Pinepaws, I meant it! I just didn't share the context around them. :)

It's sort of a combination of the two that led to the bones being buried! Not to get too gruesome, but they were all basically... slaughtered en masse, which led to their bodies piling together and forming a... rotting, scavenged silt-like layer? Yech. When early BarrenClan found that and faced it? Yeah, NO one was processing that. I imagine that some cats made an attempt to bury what was left of the bodies, and dirt and wind did the rest of the work.

Pinepaw needs a freaking VACATION. I wish I could pick him up and take him to the Bahamas. Meanwhile Cormorantpaw is slowly going through his own little character development in the background. We'll learn some more about him next week!

Harebreeze was Rainhaze and Slugpelt's father yes! It was mentioned he died in Issue 4, the first issue with Rainhaze in it. The death of Harebreeze, plus the threat to his own family, definitely drove Rainhaze to prevent the famine however he could.

I LOVE your alternate interpretation of "the shining towns". :D What a great angle on it!!

I'm glad you enjoyed the issue <3

[blissfullybloomed]

Beauty in the Stars

It's Sunday! 

Yeah, it's been a few weeks. Been busy, living this beautiful life I've curated for myself. 

Speaking of beautiful…my boyfriend and I went to the John Glenn Astronomy Park last night- we saw Starlink(Elon Musk’s satellites),  a shooting star with a full moon, in the back of his truck, and lots of blankets! Then we fell asleep….Im swooooooning!  I'm in love y’all! I have always been in love with love. I love this part. The honeymoon phase…the ooey gooey, the fluff, la la land…etc. Whatever you want to call it…I love it! The cute thoughtful gifts(wildflowers and legos), the romantic sweet things(our bubble),how he still gets nervous sometimes, and how I hope to god nothing is in my teeth when I smile, the safety to be weird, the comfortable silences where you get lost in each other, and the moments that legit take your breath away. All the firsts you get to experience with one another. Yeah, good things come to those who wait- and baby I've waited patiently for you. 

Speaking of good things, and waiting…professional life is going great too! The work at the chiropractors office is teaching me more and more why I stepped into the field of Massage Therapy when I did. Doctors are SOOOO fast to prescribe medications to someone when it only affects the superficial layer of things rather than the root issue. Chiropractic care is essential, and it's holistic(no meds required- use your body to heal your body), Massage Therapy is holistic self care. Massage and Chiro go hand in hand…and it's pretty cool I can use my education I have received with professionals in the healthcare industry. Very cool. 

Hand & Stone is cool too…I've made a lot of cool friends(them young ones), and they speak in a completely different language sometimes. It just solidifies the fact that I am OLD. Its okay, my life is incredible. I'm good with it. Per!

So , yeah life is just grande. 

One part that is new and not so grande is the fact that I am still learning things about my past, and learning how to accept and move on from certain things. I'm almost to the point of just not asking questions anymore…and just living in ignorance. I think ignorance is bliss sometimes. Bliss in the sense of ... .What does learning a certain new thing do for me in MY future? Do I need to know? I feel like I need to know how to process, and move on…but now…I'm not even sure what's left to process. I was told horrific lies about someone very important in my life my entire childhood, by someone who I knew was toxic. I chose to believe the toxicity anyways…I had to latch to some truth…and the only truth I was being told was lies. How would I know that in the moment…that it was lies? I wouldn't..we wouldn't. We didn't know. We just didn't know man. We were kids. No one told us otherwise. We lived our life believing a lie, and hating the man who told us the lie. Brainwashing is a powerful thing. Especially on the young mind. 

Anyway, conversations are still looming about…and I think…I think I'm over it. I'm over the noise, the chaos, the unsettling information, the blame, and the hurt. I have been over it for a long time actually…I just wanted closure, and I sure as shit got it. After 20 plus years , I got the facts I wanted. The information wasn't what I wanted - but I got it. Thank you for giving me closure. You were the last one I needed it from. The last one. No one is left for me to heal through. Holy crap does that feel good to type. 

So now what?! We live. We live in the beauty that is our life. I didn't get here by myself at all…so thank you to those involved.

“Every once in a while, things will get you down…just don't forget to look up. There is beauty in the stars”- Victoria Bloom 

[intheseautumnhands]

AO3 Wrapped: 3, 6, 17, 29?

3. What work are you most proud of (regardless of kudos/hits)?

Sheerly for the fact that I finally did it, it's gotta be the Steve/Peggy vid to Kill the Director. It was a learning process and I am honestly still really happy with it, even if I’ve gotten to the point where I can’t help seeing flaws.

Fic-wise, it's either the Hadestown soulmate fic I wrote for Hurt/Comfort Exchange, which I just think came out really well, or some truths get tired the longer we wait, where I am just damn proud of finally finishing something that ended up going past 5k.

6. Favorite title you used

I really like when I come up with titles that have a second layer of meaning that can easily go missed, either in relation to the reference (because pretty much all my titles are song lyrics or poem lines) or the canon or whatever. So I really like the title from the Fraiser fic I did for seasons of drabbles, which is about the three wives of Niles Crane -- "Give Him Your Hand Today", which is from a Guys and Dolls song that includes the line, "marry the man today and change his ways tomorrow". It fits the problems with marriages 1 and 2 very, very well.

Similarly, the Jack Murdock ficlet for the three sentence fest is called "there's no such thing as an unhaunted house", from a Brenna Twohy poem. On the surface, it fits Jack's wanting to give Matt somewhere to come home to that's not bogged down with bad memories like his own; but it also alludes to the way Jack's going to leave Matt with his own haunting in the end in a way that I really liked.

17. Your favorite character to write this year?

I have had a Kasimir Jones problem for two years running and it doesn’t look like it’s going anywhere anytime soon. He has eaten a corner of my brain, it’s almost on par with the Abigail Hobbs/River Tam problem at this point.

29. Favorite line/passage you wrote this year?

From fic that’s been posted:

The first year Hades came to fetch her early, Persephone hadn’t thought much of it.

It was a matter of days, then, not weeks or months, and the hand he’d reached out to her had been unsteady. He’d looked ashamed to be there already, shamed to be standing in her mother’s garden instead of meeting her at the station. That he hadn’t held out against the pain, maybe. He’d always taken it harder than her, but she hadn’t held that against him yet. How could she? She had the flowers and the vines, the seeds, her mother, the sun and the sky— a million little balms to help her push through the pain. All he had was the waiting.

(The Steady Beat of Our Bloodstreams)

Runner-up: the three-sentence fic about Lilith and ghosts

From drafts:

"You know, the first time I've ever stepped foot out of this city was our trip to the Deathlands." He stops, not sure how to explain the rest of it from there, but Lilith's smile is soft and sad, and he's not sure he needs to explain all of it for her. "I need to see what happens to it now," is all he says, and she nods.

"I thought so," she admits. She stands up, and for a moment Kasimir thinks she's leaving, but instead she darts forward. The hug is unexpected, but he wraps his arms around her tightly and lets her hold on as long as she feels the need. The snakes rustle against his shoulder; it's a strange sensation. He's almost sad he won't get a chance to get used to it.

He swipes at his eyes as she pulls away. Lilith, kindly, doesn't say anything about it.

(the art of living with a ticking heart, Blades fic which I started the night after the finale and am still trying to finish, whoops)

( AO3 Wrapped Writer’s Edition )

[news365timesindia]

[ad_1] Rani Rampal in the conclave (PC: RevSportz) Victory in defeat. Yes, it sounds a cliché, but if there was ever truth to that saying, it could be found in Rani Rampal’s career. First things first, I would surely have attended her farewell and had even booked tickets to do so. Had the cyclone not happened, it was one event I’d have loved to be part of. And I had promised her the same when she had called three weeks ago to ask me to save the date. How will I remember Rani, and what’s her legacy? To answer this question, we need to go back to the Tokyo Olympics bronze-medal match against Great Britain. India went down 3-4, and none of us who were there watching and covering the game had processed it yet. Just as the girls started walking to the mixed zone, I took my position behind the barricades. I had to get something from the skipper. Rani had promised me her match shirt, and had been a close friend for years. When she finally came in front of me, her expression said it all. There was a certain numbness about it. A deep sense of helplessness, which is difficult to express in words. Neither of us could speak for 15-20 seconds, but words weren’t really necessary. It was part of the protocol that she had to come to the mixed zone. But no protocol could help bind her emotions together. For five years, she had nurtured the dream of standing on the Olympic podium, and seeing the tricolour go up. And here, she was as close to her dream as she could possibly get. The team had failed to make the podium, and the pain was unbearable. When I mentioned to her that the team may have lost the bronze-medal contest but had won millions of hearts back home, the resolve was broken. For the Latest Sports News: Click Here Rani Rampal with Mirabai Chanu (PC: RevSportz) Rani was no longer the famed captain of India’s women’s hockey team that had scripted history in Tokyo. She was just a young woman who was finding it hard to speak. Seeing her struggle for words, we were all taken in by the moment, much to the surprise of many foreign journalists. Very rarely do such things happen. As journalists, we are expected to be objective. It is our job to ask questions and be stoic about them. Emotions aren’t really par for the course. But then, this was no ordinary match. It was an Olympic bronze-medal contest with immortality on the line. The Rani moment, if we may call it that, was one that makes sport what it is. The theatre and drama made up of multiple layers of human emotion. In a minute or so, Rani had regained her poise. “Yes, you can say so,” she said in response. “I am proud of the girls, for when you come to a tournament like the Olympics, you want to give it your best. That’s why we were in Tokyo, and I have to say we have tried to do more than what we could possibly have done.” Yes, they had. She had. By beating Australia 1-0 in the quarterfinal and then stretching Great Britain to the very last minute, they had added a new chapter to the story of Indian women’s hockey. More importantly, Rani and Savita Punia, and the rest of the girls had made sure thousands back home felt the urge to become the next Rani. This was no less important an achievement. While the flag did not go up for the girls in Tokyo, the reception they received from the men’s team and the Indian media was proof of the respect they had earned in those few weeks in Japan. That’s her real legacy. And that’s what she leaves behind as a player. Here’s wishing her all the very best in her second innings as coach in the Hockey India League (HIL). We look forward to welcoming her back at our conclave in March. Go well, Rani, and all the very best. Also Read: Former Indian Women’s Hockey Team Captain Rani bids farewell to International Hockey The post Even in heartbreaking defeat, Rani Rampal was a winner appeared first on Sports News Portal | Latest Sports Articles | Revsports. [ad_2] Source link

[news365times]

[ad_1] Rani Rampal in the conclave (PC: RevSportz) Victory in defeat. Yes, it sounds a cliché, but if there was ever truth to that saying, it could be found in Rani Rampal’s career. First things first, I would surely have attended her farewell and had even booked tickets to do so. Had the cyclone not happened, it was one event I’d have loved to be part of. And I had promised her the same when she had called three weeks ago to ask me to save the date. How will I remember Rani, and what’s her legacy? To answer this question, we need to go back to the Tokyo Olympics bronze-medal match against Great Britain. India went down 3-4, and none of us who were there watching and covering the game had processed it yet. Just as the girls started walking to the mixed zone, I took my position behind the barricades. I had to get something from the skipper. Rani had promised me her match shirt, and had been a close friend for years. When she finally came in front of me, her expression said it all. There was a certain numbness about it. A deep sense of helplessness, which is difficult to express in words. Neither of us could speak for 15-20 seconds, but words weren’t really necessary. It was part of the protocol that she had to come to the mixed zone. But no protocol could help bind her emotions together. For five years, she had nurtured the dream of standing on the Olympic podium, and seeing the tricolour go up. And here, she was as close to her dream as she could possibly get. The team had failed to make the podium, and the pain was unbearable. When I mentioned to her that the team may have lost the bronze-medal contest but had won millions of hearts back home, the resolve was broken. For the Latest Sports News: Click Here Rani Rampal with Mirabai Chanu (PC: RevSportz) Rani was no longer the famed captain of India’s women’s hockey team that had scripted history in Tokyo. She was just a young woman who was finding it hard to speak. Seeing her struggle for words, we were all taken in by the moment, much to the surprise of many foreign journalists. Very rarely do such things happen. As journalists, we are expected to be objective. It is our job to ask questions and be stoic about them. Emotions aren’t really par for the course. But then, this was no ordinary match. It was an Olympic bronze-medal contest with immortality on the line. The Rani moment, if we may call it that, was one that makes sport what it is. The theatre and drama made up of multiple layers of human emotion. In a minute or so, Rani had regained her poise. “Yes, you can say so,” she said in response. “I am proud of the girls, for when you come to a tournament like the Olympics, you want to give it your best. That’s why we were in Tokyo, and I have to say we have tried to do more than what we could possibly have done.” Yes, they had. She had. By beating Australia 1-0 in the quarterfinal and then stretching Great Britain to the very last minute, they had added a new chapter to the story of Indian women’s hockey. More importantly, Rani and Savita Punia, and the rest of the girls had made sure thousands back home felt the urge to become the next Rani. This was no less important an achievement. While the flag did not go up for the girls in Tokyo, the reception they received from the men’s team and the Indian media was proof of the respect they had earned in those few weeks in Japan. That’s her real legacy. And that’s what she leaves behind as a player. Here’s wishing her all the very best in her second innings as coach in the Hockey India League (HIL). We look forward to welcoming her back at our conclave in March. Go well, Rani, and all the very best. Also Read: Former Indian Women’s Hockey Team Captain Rani bids farewell to International Hockey The post Even in heartbreaking defeat, Rani Rampal was a winner appeared first on Sports News Portal | Latest Sports Articles | Revsports. [ad_2] Source link

[autolovecraft]

An eye for an eye!

For the long-neglected latch was obviously broken, leaving the careless undertaker trapped in the vault, a victim of his own oversight. Birch, though dreading the bother of removal and interment, began his task of transference one disagreeable April morning, but ceased before noon because of a heavy rain that seemed to irritate his horse, after having laid but one mortal tenant to its permanent rest. In this twilight too, he began to realize the truth and to shout loudly as if his horse outside could do more than neigh an unsympathetic reply. In the semi-gloom he trusted mostly to touch to select the right one, and indeed came upon it almost by accident, since it tumbled into his hands as if through some odd volition after he had unwittingly placed it beside another on the third layer.

He had even wondered, at Sawyer's funeral, how the vindictive farmer had managed to lie straight in a box so closely akin to that of the diminutive Fenner. There was nothing like a ladder in the tomb. Birch had locked himself for nine hours in the receiving tomb of Peck Valley; and was a very calloused and primitive specimen even as such specimens go. His thinking processes, once so phlegmatic and logical, had become ineffaceably scarred; and it was pitiful to note his response to certain chance allusions such as Friday, Tomb, Coffin, and words of less obvious concatenation. As he planned, he could not but wish that the units of his contemplated staircase had been more securely made.

He was a bachelor, wholly without relatives. He changed his business in 1881, yet never discussed the case when he could avoid it. He could, he was sure, get out by midnight—though it is characteristic of him that this thought was untinged with eerie implications. Davis, who died years ago. As he remounted the splitting coffins he felt his weight very poignantly; especially when, upon reaching the topmost one, he heard that aggravated crackle which bespeaks the wholesale rending of wood. When he perceived that the latch was hopelessly unyielding, at least in a city; and even Peck Valley would have shuddered a bit had it known the easy ethics of its mortuary artist in such debatable matters as the ownership of costly laying-out apparel invisible beneath the casket's lid, and the overhead ventilation funnel virtually none at all; though ever afterward he refused to do anything of importance on that fateful sixth day of the week. It was just as he had recognized old Matt's coffin that the door slammed to in the wind, leaving him in a dusk even deeper than before. It must have been midnight at least when Birch decided he could get through the transom. In this twilight too, he began to realize the truth and to shout loudly as if his horse outside could do more than neigh an unsympathetic reply. He worked largely by feeling now, since newly gathered clouds hid the moon; and though progress was still slow, he felt heartened at the extent of his encroachments on the top and bottom of the aperture, he sought to drain from the weakened undertaker every least detail of his horrible experience. He changed his business in 1881, yet never discussed the case when he could avoid it. Well enough to skimp on the thing some way, but you always did go too damned far! Finally he decided to lay a base of three parallel with the wall, to place upon this two layers of two each, and upon these a single box to serve as the platform. You kicked hard, for Asaph's coffin was on the floor. You kicked hard, for Asaph's coffin was on the floor. Birch, and I don't blame you for giving him a cast-aside coffin, but you knew what a little man old Fenner was. His questioning grew more than medically tense, and his aching arms rested by a pause during which he sat on the bottom box to gather strength for the final wriggle and leap to the ground outside. The hungry horse was neighing repeatedly and almost uncannily, and he vaguely wished it would stop. Birch, though dreading the bother of removal and interment, began his task of transference one disagreeable April morning, but ceased before noon because of a heavy rain that seemed to irritate his horse, after having laid but one mortal tenant to its permanent rest. In this funereal twilight he rattled the rusty handles, pushed at the iron panels, and wondered why the massive portal had grown so suddenly recalcitrant. It may have been encouraging and to others may have been mocking. At last the spring thaw came, and graves were laboriously prepared for the nine silent harvests of the grim reaper which waited in the tomb.

[inmomni]

No. 22

Going on trips makes me feel a certain way. Well I’m not sure if it’s that or the fact that it’s been almost a week since I took my 20mg Lexapro…

Probably more so the trips.

I came across a photo of me from exactly 4 years ago. The first thing that stuck out to me was the fact that I was so thin. Well. In my eyes it looks really good. The moment I showed it to my mom she asked why I liked that photo of myself.

Obviously, I stated, it was because my face looked so good. Skinny, no acne, tan. And god what a sharp jawline.

She then stated, well yes, but you were not okay then.

Which made me think. There is a 3D component to my image of myself that I overlook all of the time. All I look at when coveting the body I had before is the physicality of it all. Smooth jawline and face. But my mom, and I’m sure many of my other loved ones, add this layer of mental stability. This idea that my appearance is all there is to mark well being is such that I still have to break from. And maybe it’s those things that blinded me or rather made it easier to be oblivious to the things causing me pain and suffering at the time. She, my mom, then added “WOW, how amazing would it be if you achieved that now, with a healthier mind and spirit”. She said those things were achievable back then because I was sick. The discord between the duality of outside and inside to me made it easier to forsake one for the other. And it still does. And the dissonance creates unease in my spirit, which then is able to swing the pendulum to the side of least resistance. For me that is a terrible outside and a terrible inside.

The number of combinations are this four-fold.

1. Bad inside - Good inside (pre collapse. Circa 2017/8-2019)

This allows for me, as stated before, the tolerance to keep up a good image, diluting my instincts in a delusion that I am okay. The process is only possible due to the human nature to compare others outsides to our insides. The delusion comes from the fact that I am able to justify that I am okay because everyone else thinks that I am okay.

2. Good inside - Bad outside (post rehab. Circa 2022-present)

After I graduated New Life, I was at my healthiest, mentally. Physically , well I like the phrase that I have been on a nearly 3 year bulk. And while that does hold some truth, the inconsistency comes in the fact that this, was not intentional. It is more of a byproduct of sacrificing one addiction, and well picking up another. Well not really picking up another, rather the lack of stamina for self control. Stamina well spent kicking alcoholism, but nonetheless it gives way for vulnerabilities. I can say that on this trip with my parents I have had amazing and, quite honestly, astounding self control when it comes to complaining and getting irritated at situations that would have thrown me off the cliff into an abyss of terrible terrible decisions and emotions. We become able to do things that once used to baffle us. And for me that comes in the form of not getting frustrated at my family when they try to force feed me, my mother’s occasional complaints, and my father’s, uhh, Korean restaurant manners. My training per say has allowed me to navigate the emotional ups and downs of this trip, keeping my parents out of the chaos that is going on inside of my mind. But all of this is coming at the cost of my physical well being. Well not this trip in particular. The stamina I am talking about is the crux of my frustrations and insecurities. And my unwillingness to deal with it head on is costing me. I can feel it. Again, not discounting the maximum dose of Lexapro I am missing out on, but still it counts for something. Like I stated earlier. This imbalance between my insides and outside is causing emotional rift. It makes me prone to selling myself short on things that I would otherwise have the strength to deal with. And ultimately it will lead to…

3. Bad inside - Bad outside (2019 - 2020 PEAK Alcoholism)

This is what my mind/body/spirit slipped into. My physical condition was something to be concerned about. No joke. Diabetes OUT of control, body bloated, pale, mental stability of a self aware captive goldfish, no defense. This is what the path of least resistance is for me. I fall prey, as many of my species, and most - correction - all things do in this universe: Law of Entropy. Unmanageability, disorder, chaos, is ultimately what my life falls towards if no active steps are taken towards order. It is the sad fact of life, if you want to look at it that way. But it gives way for many opportunities to grow, not just damage control. This is well explored in my genesis and exodus from alcoholism. I don’t feel the need to go into this any more than presenting it as my third.

4. Good inside - Good outside (has never happened YET)

There have been attempts at this. If I am brutally honest, a couple of “good tries”, participation ribbon worthy performances. None have been at the level at which I pursued it like my life depended on it. I tried. Kinda. It was an honerab… good. Okay… Decent. Attempt. Yeah. I bought a subscription to HelloFresh. I tried to cook more healthy. But. It was too. I went from 0 - 100 WAYYYY too quickly. I need to start with chicken. And rice. Something easy. With portion control. My dad gave me good advice to start. Carrots: to keep my mouth busy, and watermelons: to satisfy my sweet tooth. The carrots worked. 110%. The watermelon, I need to figure out how to buy a good watermelon. It’s like gambling I swear. There is the illusion of skill, tapping, but ultimately the grocery store always wins. Maybe I need to shop at Trader Joe’s. Working out has been suboptimal the last 2 months. No cardio. It’s like I am afraid of the commitment. But newfound motivations come from my absolutely humiliating experience trying to hike up a short ass trail at Bryce Canyon. I. Am. Out. Of. Shape. StairMaster. I need it. Daily. Well. I need a schedule. And acne will hopefully get sorted out with Acutane. I am trying to go to church. And I have a new sponsor. Baby steps Inmo. Baby steps.

All this to say. I can’t see myself changing because I haven’t had a different experience before. I have never been in a position where all five infinity stones came together. I’ve had parts at a time, but not together. It’s time. It’s been time. Good I ask for your help. I can’t do this alone. I admit that I am powerless over myself, that when I try to take control, everything becomes unmanageable. I see that you have the power to turn me back to sanity, to have all the pieces fit. So I give my will unto you. So have your way with me and give me the strength to do the next right thing. With all of my fears and sexual insecurities, with my unwillingness to grow, I give them to you. I acknowledge that only you God have the power to take away my defects of character, so make me available to the instances where you will.

God help me. I need you. Lead me into this new season of my life where I am steadily growing. Help me address my fears that keep me stagnant and paralyzed.

Thank you for this time of reflection.

[wyntersecret-a]

Backing down on his initial tone made him realize how he may have sounded. Bringing a level of discomfort into the equation would never be intentional. He simply is cautious. Not for reasons of distrust but reasons of loss. If she had any idea this would end before it fully begins. Something stabs at him. The thought of losing Alice is greater than his worst experiences, tortured at the hands of his enemies. Landon moved towards the stairs, dark gaze settling on her in his shirt. Still a breath of life for him to witness; she appears much better than last night. Even now it’s a bit miraculous to see her so healed.

“Of course,” Landon nodded, remembering her clothes. “I’m sorry I only wanted to make sure you ate. You look much better.” A smile brightened his expression, climbing the stairs to meet Alice on the landing. The concern is palpable. Layered tension amounting to what she really might have heard. He can’t confront her about it and he won’t. She’s been through enough. Last he wants is to make her feel any of that stress here with him. This is a place of safety. This is her home – if she wants it to be. “Everything is alright. I just have some things to do this week. People wondering about me and all. Sometimes I get pretty isolated and well…”

Landon kept his smile for her. An easy pastime to absorb her presence and FEEL good; Alice presents an aura unlike anybody he has ever met. His hands gradually slip down to take hold of the blonde’s hands. Constant craving to be connected to her is hard to process. He just needs it. “Don’t want people to bother you is all. You’ve been through a lot. Besides, I thought making it awkward and introducing you would have been a bit much.” There is truth there. If she was not in such a state last night maybe he would have declared her his mate right there in front of Brett. He can’t jump ahead when this isn’t about him. This is about her. “The only thing I’m worried over is you. You know I would do anything for you. I promise. And your clothes are ready.” A subject change but for all the right reasons. @xwildheart // prev

[ashs-random-writing]

Building up Burned Bridges

Chapter 7

Ao3

REBLOGS>>>LIKES

--

Humans are widely regarded as myths. Myths of Giant monstrous beings whose only goal is to destroy magic and all magical beings. That was a stereotype.

Janus is a human who's been in hiding, alone for seven years. He was always careful, he always protected himself, and now there was a fairy in his cave.

--

Logan truly wanted to know what was going through Virgil’s mind when he decided that getting closer to an aggravated monster was such a good idea.

When his friend returned back to the ledge, surprisingly completely in one piece, Logan muttered a warning to never do that again, to which Virgil simply shrugged, as if his life wasn’t one of the most important things to maintain

Logan glared, crossing his arms

“It’s simply a miracle that you’ve survived this long. I am never letting you out of my sights if we ever get out of here, and that is a promise” 

Virgil rolled his eyes “Yeah, okay. I didn’t even do anything too bad, I just helped it” 

Logan stammered in disbelief for a few moments 

“Not too bad? You went willingly towards an aggressive animal, that was acting extra aggressively, to touch an injury it had! That is arguably more reckless than the things you berate Remus for, and you call it ‘not too bad’?” He was practically shouting at this point, and his friend at least had the decency to appear sheepish

“Alright, fine. It probably wasn’t the best idea, but it was hurt and maybe it will be more lenient now that I’ve helped it?”

Logan made a small noise of disagreement “Unlikely, but I suppose it’s metaphorically ‘worth a shot’” He smiled

The human was staring him down as if it was trying to figure out what he was saying (and wasn’t that an interesting thought? An unlikely one, but certainly interesting...).

He stared back. Goldie still hadn’t started making food, and soon, it started sleeping. Logan followed suit, and so did Virgil.

Everything went normally for the next few days, until it didn’t. Goldie was hunting, as usual. Him and Virgil were talking, waiting for their captor to get back.

And when it did, it was almost surprising. It seemed to be having trouble breathing, and Logan held Virgil back from trying to help, instead surveying the clumsily closed entrance.

They could leave. They could leave the minute the human fell asleep. He whispered his plan to his friend, and they both agreed to leave when they could. They were excited to leave, to see Remus and the rest of the village. 

Goldie was asleep, they slowly flew towards the exit, finally feeling hope fluttering in their chests. And suddenly, they were free.

The sky felt strange to look at, after this long. It was almost a full moon, they flew towards the village, not giving another thought to the human, except to think about their own freedom.

It was almost sunrise by the time they got back, and people were starting to leave their houses. People kept questioning them, and Logan told the truth

There was a monster in a cave, and it was trapping people, and no one knew why. They went back to their homes, and Logan checked up on his library.

Everything was how he left it, except the mildly thick layer of dust that had accumulated over all the books. He got to dusting, until mid-morning

He walked towards Remus’s home, and knocked on the door. Remus was happy to see him, if the large hug he got subjected to was any indication

“You’re back! Finally... Do you have any idea how long you were gone? Did you find Virgil whilst you went missing?” Remus seemed to go through the entire spectrum of emotions whilst speaking, which didn’t seem too unusual for him

Logan took a moment to process what was being asked

“Uh, yeah. Virgil’s in his house right now. Apparently, he wants to sleep for at least a week straight in his own bed, but I’m fairly certain that’s a hyperbole” 

They talked for a while, with him telling Remus about Goldie and how it was taking people seemingly at random. Remus suggested gathering an army to best the beast, and Logan agreed that idea would probably be the most rational course of action, even if he was at least 60% certain Remus suggested it so he’d have an excuse to try and fight a monster

By the time they gathered an army and got to the cave a few days later, with the army, it was abandoned with no human, no food, and no trace that there’d ever been anything there, other than paintings on the walls. Where it’d previously been blank on the wall next to the ledge, there was a cross

Virgil and Logan stared at it, feeling as though it was a warning of some kind

-------

Janus was screwed. Unbelievably, totally screwed. He was almost seen for the third time, whilst he was hunting. His breathing got quicker, and he ran back to the cave with his hunt, covering the entrance with the boulder quicker than he could even think.

He couldn’t think straight while he was like this, he didn’t even notice his captives staring outside. He got his breathing under control, and the first thing he thought to do was sleep. He felt drained, both mentally and physically

When he awoke with sunlight streaming onto his face, he knew he messed up big time. He checked the ledge. No magicals. His breathing got slightly more rushed

He gathered his things (not that there was much to take) and his still uncooked meat and shoved them into a carrier he had made out of animal skin. He didn’t care that it was still daylight outside, it was still sunrise, he could probably get to somewhere at least a little far away before they came to kill him. 

He moved the boulder, after painting an X where the magicals were, hopefully warding them off from looking for him

He started his journey, carefully avoiding each village that riddled the woods. He kept his footsteps as quiet as possible, watching for any sign of movement near him, any potential danger or hiding spots.

He got out of the woods and carried on north, never stopping for rest and food. He could stop when he was sure he was far enough away, but for now, he had to walk. He had to ignore his exhaustion, his aching legs, his hunger and his thirst. He had to go north.

Supposedly, magicals first appeared in the north, and chased humans further and further south through hunting and settled in the very south of the land. Janus didn’t know how true that was, but there seemed to be a lot less magicals the further he got. 

His mother had once told him that she had the urge to take him north as a baby, to try give him a better life than she could at that time, but was too scared of getting caught. 

Janus understood what she meant. Hiding all the time was draining, but travelling was even more dangerous. Janus carried on until the moon rose, at which point he searched for adequate shelter for the night. It was almost a full moon, but he needed to keep travelling

He finally cooked his meat, and started eating, saving most of it in his bag

Hopefully, no one would find him on his journey

--

Taglist: @a-chilly-pepper​