#which i guess is fine for certain communities. but it's only going to push you away from orthodoxy

[torahtot]

ok ive had enough of queering judaism. can we start judaizing queerness now. or something

[bunnwich]

Okay I’m assuming that the other long ass ask you mentioned was about the Halloween event too and your take on it so fair warning, this will also be about that and will also probably be long. I only play en and try to avoid spoilers but also I love the lion man so I got some of that anyway. But you really hit on a lot of points that I feel are important when people wanna flatten Leona’s character to 2D (even though he is literally 2D I guess), but what we’re seeing now in terms of “Leona chugs respect women juice and hates men” feels like just another iteration of “lazy lion man is lazy and doesn’t wanna do anything.”

And about Leona respecting a potential friend or partner regardless of gender, it’s like two weird sides of the same coin where people will say he hates men but it feels almost infantilizing toward women (Sally specifically in this case) about him being kind to her BECAUSE she is a woman. No! He likes her because she is smart and cunning and clever and will do whatever it takes to get what she wants (poisoning someone to get to freedom)- all things Leona values, and I think there’s probably a certain amount of “finally, my kind of person” with some of the closer analogues I feel being Leona mentoring Jamil and pushing him to go after what he wants as well as letting Yuu “bully” him into helping with Azul because dammit Yuu is using everything at their disposal and figured out the trick to Azul’s contracts, both of which are worthy of respect (and it lets him destroy his own contract). I’ve lost my train of thought a smidge but yes, it’s not about respecting women specifically or a matriarchal society, it’s about being around someone he actually vibes with and respect

Switching topics but yeah, he IS a hypocrite! He’s calling out Skully’s not seeking consent specifically because the behavior annoyed him as a whole, not just the consent part. And possibly Yuu’s or anyone else’s reaction of “oh how gentlemanly” too. I feel like that one goes back to his tendency to seek any and every advantage or whatever he can use to get the result he wants. In this case, he wants Yuu to not be overly impressed or even annoyed with Skully, and that’s the way to get the result.

Okay last one but yes it is so cute to get to see Leona a bit softer and kinder since it’s such a rare sight in twst. There’s this kind of vindication too, at least for me, to see what as so obviously there to me out in the open for once.

Leona has always been soft…but not a gentleman.

HI ANON!! Actually, the other ask was not about the event but honestly, I get why you would think that. (I get Leona asks a lot about different things :3c DFGHJ)

“Leona chugs respect women juice and hates men” feels like just another iteration of “lazy lion man is lazy and doesn’t wanna do anything.”

YEAH YEAH I think I see what you mean with this. I have a couple of thoughts on that tbh- 

Ppl get excited about a character they like and then they end up saying/joking about things without thinking about other ppl in the fandom who are different from them. Which…is fine to a degree but fandom is a community (or supposed to be) AND masc/nonbinary (and/or those with those types of OCs) often ALREADY get left out of fandom content and end up feeling like they aren’t “as valid” as femme folk and their OCs.

The other thing may be that some of these ppl feel in order to “justify” liking this “flawed character” that they MUST sanitize aspects of them. And turning Leona into a “squeaky clean feminist” suddenly and “consent” king is their way of flattening his character in order to make him safer to like?? Or like a vindication for him liking their femme OCs over a masc one?

Maybe I’m wrong, but those are my thoughts.

To your second point, YES EXACTLY!! I have always felt like Leona takes a soft spot for the MC in Chapter 3 and even somewhat for Jamil in Chapter 6 when he sees aspects of himself in him. And I feel like I never see ppl bringing that up about Chapter 3 especially. 

In the manga, you can see how delighted Leona is when Yuuta figures out the secret to Azul’s Unique Magic. He respects Yuuta's tenacity and even though he “says” he only helps because he wants his personal contact destroyed, I have always believed that that is just a part of it. I think he genuinely grows to like the MC more and actions speak louder than words. If he TRULY wanted to be rid of Yuuta or the MC in the game…he would have thrown them out like he threatened to do from the beginning. He’s a pushover…for certain ppl ofc.

You can even see this with Ruggie as well. Leona “says” it’s only for his benefit but we KNOW that he helps Ruggie behind the scenes with his homework “gives him extra money” and hand-me-downs. If it was truly only a business relationship he wouldn’t bother. And in one of his birthday vignettes, Cater goes on about how much he obviously cares for his underclassmen.

I guess what is truly interesting to me is that I’ve ALWAYS known Leona has the ability for softness and kindness. And bc Sally is a sweetie and so cool and YES a lady I think he was just more open about being nicer to her. 

Let’s remember that Leona doesn't have a lot of ppl he's close to at Night Raven College, therefore we don’t get to see that side of him often.

Idk…I feel watering this all down to “Leona is just a feminist” and that is why he’s nice does as you say: infantilizes women AND waters down Leona’s capacity for said softness and kindness and just making it about “manners” he learned growing up, yk?

THANK YOU, HE IS A HYPOCRITE. Leona as much as I defend is…rude AF. He has touched people without consent in vignettes and in the past. So I agree with your interpretation. I think it could even be interpreted as jealousy if someone wants to go that route.  But is it bc he TRULY gaf about Scully's manners? idts

As we know, he’s blunt compared to many of the characters and according to Vil and others has terrible manners. In fact, this was brought up MANY times in the Tamashina Mina event and so I think more the scene with Sally was more to show that he CAN be kind and a gentleman…when he wants to. Rather than showing he’s a simp for women or w/e.

 I'm FINE with ppl saying he’s a feminist or respects women! I believe he does! That’s harmless but- 

I just wish that ppl wouldn’t use this as an excuse to put down others AND remember that Leona isn’t just kind to women. He may have been softer to Sally but he has always been a generous person to those he believes has potential and/or respect.

I agree, I loved seeing him in this! I hope to see more of this openness from him in the future. 

Like you, I feel like I always knew it was there and have been preaching it for years! I already knew he was capable of softness. I think we just got to see it so openly bc it was someone NOT from NRC. 

And IT IS a great vindication for me too! Leona was always big bro, soft for those he admires etc. And I think before it was hidden between the lines and now it’s just out in the open.

Thanks for this ask! I’m glad my yapping is understood and that you could relate to what I meant in my previous post about him.💚💚💚 TLDR;

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

A FRESH START [22]

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Warnings: panic attack, trauma reaction, mentions of injuries, nonsexual nudity

Word Count: 5,935

Updates every Thursday

Summary: When you made plans for your future they never involved being hired by a Mandalorian to baby-sit his adorable, green gremlin of a child. However, after your life fell apart in the span of one disastrous night, you found it to be the only feasible option you had left. Nevarro was a far cry from Coruscant, but the thriving community turned out to be exactly what you needed. Every day you spend in Nevarro you fall more and more in love with your new life, but when your past rears its ugly head you find that perhaps peace wasn’t meant for everyone.

[a/n: i was forced to shorten the taglist for the sake of my sanity. tumblr won't let me post with more than certain number. I think that's why I've had the hardest time with this shit. I made it a first come, first served so if your username got dropped I am so so so sorry but that's why.]

#22: LIKE FATHER, LIKE SON

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"i find my place in between your arms, in between your tender kisses and soft whispers of 'it will be alright', in between the warmth of your embrace, and the scent of your neck, and the fierceness of your touch, i find my place lost inside your soul." -Hearts and Empires

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Din was immensely proud of your skills as a physician. However, if you didn’t get your ass out of the damn medic tent he was going to throw you over his shoulder and carry you home forcibly. More than anything, you needed rest. He wasn’t able to convince you to stop working and because the medical aid had yet to arrive no one else sided with him on these matters. Karga had the nerve to tell him to calm down. Din had nearly wrung the High Magistrate’s neck. 

He watched as you flittered around the medical tent aiding those who were injured alongside Aayla. Grogu had refused to leave your side, and that didn’t seem to bother you at all. Right now, as if you weren’t exhausted and barely standing, you had a sling wrapped around your chest which held Grogu against your back. Din could see the little boy resting his head against your back while rubbing your shoulder with his small hand. The sight warmed his heart and Din would be tempted to snap a picture to save if it weren’t for the state of your being. Your scrubs were still stained with blood and you had yet to clean your own wounds. It was stressing Din out to watch you working so hard when you were still in the state you were in.

While turning to see someone else, Din noticed you wavering on your feet. That was enough. He pushed forward and pressed through the injured crowd straight to you. “Hey.” You turned to meet his gaze. “It’s time to go home. You’re barely able to stand.”

“I can’t⏤”

“Ner kar’ta.” Din said firmly.

You sighed. “Alright. Fine.” Your shoulders sagged. “I guess I am a little tired.” Din shook his head, a quiet chuckle slipping from his lips. Your small smile turned sheepish and Din dreaded whatever it was you were going to say next. “I need to make sure Nima has cleared the tarmac though so the medical team can park.”

“What?”

“We need to get⏤”

Din reached his gloved hands out to cup your face. At the contact, the rest of your words fell away. He leaned forward and spoke firmly. “We’re going home. You need to rest. Somebody⏤ Anybody else can do the rest of the work here.” He let his thumb trace your cheekbone. Din wished he could feel your skin against his. “Have you managed all the emergency cases?”

“I mean, yeah, but⏤”

“Then it’s time to take care of yourself.” Din finished.

Your lips pressed together and gave him a small nod. Din let out a breath of relief. Without wasting another moment, Din slipped his hand into yours and began to drag you away before someone could distract you with a new job. Just having your hand in his was a comfort he couldn’t even begin to describe. During his travels, he imagined what his reunion with you would look like often. Never did he imagine karking pirates would be involved, but this feeling in his chest he had anticipated. He knew being back by your side would feel like coming home. In fact, he may have underestimated how strongly the reunion would make him feel⏤ which was quite the feat considering how badly he craved it.

Din stepped into the shared home and he couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief.

“Frog. Frog.” Grogu chirped. He turned in time to see you untangling the boy from the sling to set on the ground. Grogu bounded further into the room probably to look for his stuffed toy. 

Din focused back on you and his heart ached at the exhaustion painted on your face. Not wasting another moment, Din ripped off his gloves, tossing them aside, and reached out to cup your face. You let out a shuddering breath when his skin came in contact with his and Din felt that last tinge of stress leave his body. You were safe. It felt more real like this. 

“Are you still allowed to take this off to kiss me?” You asked. Din couldn’t tell if your quiet voice came from a meekness or just the weariness of your last 24 hours. 

“Yes.” Din chuckled. “We just need to be more careful.”

Technically speaking, it would be best if he didn’t take his helmet off anymore. Having you close your eyes was not the most ideal of plans. Accidents could happen, and more than anything it was just a loophole in his Creed. However, Din would give up vital organs before he gave up the gift and honor that was kissing you. 

You closed your eyes and Din lifted one of his hands so he could lightly trace your bruised and dirty features. He hummed, “You’re injured and tired. We should take care of that first.”

“Literally nothing is more important to me right now than this.” You replied.

Din hardly needed further convincing. Removing his hands from your face had been painful⏤ even knowing that it was only for a moment so he could take his helmet off. Without the barrier between you and him, your injuries looked worse. The dark coloring of the bruising and the red of the blood was so much more prominent. Din could see bags under your eyes he hadn’t noticed before. With a quiet sigh, Din cupped your face once more.

“Ni ceta.” Din mumbled soft apologies. He leaned in to press his lips first against your left eyelid then your right. He continued to pepper soft kisses across your cheek until they found your lips. Din would be a liar if he said he hadn’t spent every single night while gone imagining what your lips would feel like on his return. And, just as with the reunion, his mental image did not do the moment justice. Din had pictured passion and heat, a battle between one another to devour the other first, but this kiss was not that.

This kiss was soft, tender, and patient.

Three things that Din never got to call his own, living a life of battle in armor of Beskar.

Your lower lip was slotted between both of his and as he gave it a gentle tug you released a shaky sigh. The sound struck him like a hot iron and Din couldn’t help but breathe you in. He pulled you closer so your body was flush with his, let the tip of his tongue trace the shape of your lip, as he deepened the kiss. Din allowed desperation to seep into his very touch. It couldn’t be helped. Din was desperate. He was desperate to feel your very alive heartbeat under his touch. He was desperate for the warmth you exuded. He was desperate to show you how thankful he was for your safety. He was desperate for you to know how proud he was of you. He was desperate for you to know how sorry he was for not being here. 

Din was desperate, and it was all for you. 

“Ni ceta, ner kar’ta.” Din spoke directly against your lips. Nothing short of the Maker would tear him away from you. Your own hands lifted and when he felt your fingers rake against his scalp, tug on his hair, Din’s repeated apology fell out in a groan. Din dragged his lips along your jawline, taking the time to leave a kiss on every inch. Eventually, his lips found your neck and he left kisses over the darkened bruise there. “I’m so sorry.”

“Not your fault.” You replied in a hoarse whimper. 

Din disagreed entirely. He should’ve been here. He never should have left your side. You flinched when his lips touched a spot more tender than the rest. It was barely noticeable. In fact, he wouldn’t have realized you flinched at all if it wasn’t for your body being pressed so tightly to his. It was enough to remind him that you still needed care and rest. Din pressed one last kiss against your lips⏤ innocent and loving. When he pulled back you let out a whine of complaints. Din reached down to grasp his helmet and pulled it back on.

He leaned forward to rest the beskar against your forehead and at the touch your eyes opened once more. More than anything, Din wanted to see the color of your eyes unhindered by his visor. Even with the helmet on he found your eyes mesmerizing but the visor always muted colors. It seemed fitting if he thought about it. Even with the loophole of taking his helmet off, with your eyes closed a part of you stayed hidden to him. Just as he was hidden to you.

“Let me take a look at your wounds.”

“No.” You said and Din furrowed his brow. As if reading his displeasure at the response, you shook your head and clarified. “I meant, not now. I want to take a shower first. I need to.”

Din found it hard to argue against that. You wouldn’t be able to fully relax until the day was washed from your skin. He nodded and walked you further into the house. He kept one hand on your lower back, and Din loved that you kept pace with him. It wasn’t as if you didn’t know where the bathroom was, but the action made it feel like you were just as desperate as he was to stay in the other’s presence.

Grogu waddled out of the hall, dragging his stuffed frog behind him, just as the two of them reached the mouth of the hallway. He held his hands up, chirping out a request to be held, and Din knelt down to scoop the boy up before you could. Grogu blew a raspberry at him. “No buir. Need Ma.”

“I know, ad’ika.” Din replied. “But Ma has to take a shower.”

Grogu grumbled in protest, but when you reached out to lovingly pet the boy’s head Grogu was marginally appeased. As you drifted to the bathroom, Din gathered a fresh towel for you and he also grabbed one of his shirts for you to change into. A decision made solely to relieve the itch in his brain that needed to see you safe in his bed wearing his clothes, but you accepted both items with a tired smile. 

When the door shut and he heard the water kick on, Din blew out a breath of relief. He glanced down at Grogu who was still staring at the bathroom door. “It’s good to be home, isn’t it ad’ika?”

“Home with Ma.” Grogu nodded in agreement.

“Right.” Din chuckled. “We’re home with Ma.”

The hot water pelted your back and left your skin radiating heat. You had washed your hair, begun to wash your body, but midway through you dropped the bottle of soap. As you knelt down to pick it up, you suddenly had a flash of kneeling beside Wynn’s dead body. It sucked the air straight from your lungs and knocked you to your ass. Now you sat under the unrelenting stream of water with your legs curled up to your chest⏤ gasping in distress. Any air you did manage to fill your lungs with was uncomfortable and brought no relief. It felt like you were suffocating. 

A choked sob left your lips as you buried your face in your arms as they rested atop your knees. No matter how much you tried to turn your tired mind off, it continued to ruminate on the decisions you made. If you hadn’t forced Wynn to leave, would she still be alive? She wanted to wait for help. You felt trapped in this memory. A loop of telling Wynn she needed to run followed by watching the life leave her eyes right in front of you. You could still feel the warmth of her hot blood while holding her wound⏤ still feel the snapping of her ribs during the course of your desperate CPR. All useless. You didn’t save her. You sent her to her death. 

The sensation of having a towel thrown over your shoulders was startling. Your head snapped up to see Din knelt beside you. The shower head was off, Din’s gray pajama shirt plastered to his body on the side from water, and just behind him you could see the bathroom door hanging off it’s hinges.

“Ner kar’ta.” Din’s voice was rough. “Please talk to me.”

“Din?” You gasped. He had the large towel wrapped entirely around your body covering every inch of you. “What⏤ I don’t understand⏤”

“I heard something fall. I called out for you, over and over, but you didn’t respond.” Din replied. His voice took a sheepish tone. “I⏤I broke through the door.” He let his arms run over the towel covering your arms, giving them a squeeze. “Found you like this. Even when I turned the water off you still didn’t…”

It was the sight of your reflection in his visor and helmet that seemed to push you over your edge. Tears welled in your eyes and once the first ragged sob left your lips it was followed quickly by a string of others. Despite the fact that you were sitting on a tiled floor soaked with puddles, Din sat down right beside you and cautiously pulled you into his arms. You tucked yourself against his chest, and he fully enveloped you with his arms while resting his head on top of yours.

“It’s okay. You’re safe.” Din murmured. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You shook your head. Your sobs only interrupted by the sound of your lungs gasping for air. Din tightened his arms around you, a feat you didn’t know was possible, and you found comfort in his solid form. Din was here. Din made everything better. You weren’t sure how long the two of you sat there, but eventually Din mumbled softly, “We need to get you dressed. You’ll be cold soon.” You didn’t tell him that you’d never feel cold in his hold. “Need to treat your wounds too.”

Din helped you stand. He cautiously led you out of the shower, arm around your torso, and he stopped you in front of the bathroom counter. “I’m going to get the first aid kit from the kitchen. Are you going to be alright?”

You nodded. Din paused, as if hesitant, before returning the nod and moving toward the door. He mumbled a curse under his breath, you could hear it, and then he grabbed the large chunks of the door that had broken off when he rammed it to set aside where nobody would trip over them. While he was out, you grabbed his shirt and tugged it on⏤ using the damp towel to try and pat dry the dripping ends of your hair. Din returned, his visor scanning your body, before he settled beside you again.

With a focused intensity, Din applied a bit of bacta to the wound at your hairline and then rubbed some of it into the bruise around your neck as well. In the midst of his work, you whispered, “Wynn is dead.” Din’s fingers paused in their motion, surprise reading in his frame, but he was quick to return his movements and stance back to baseline. “She’s dead and I didn’t tell anybody. I forgot to tell someone.” Tears returned to your eyes. “I just left her in the street, Din. I left her like she meant nothing.”

“Hey.” Din said firmly. “This was during the firefight, was it not?” You nodded in confirmation. “You had no choice, ner kar’ta. That wasn’t your fault.”

“I think it was.” Your words fell out a pained whisper.

Din’s hands lifted to cradle your face and you leaned into his touch. It felt like he wanted to say something, but he paused. Instead, Din tangled his hand with yours and pulled you out of the bathroom. He didn’t ask, didn’t even hesitate, to pull you into his room. The moment you entered you heard Grogu’s familiar snores and it was such a comforting sound to hear after weeks sleeping in silence that you nearly cried. Din pulled back the covers and helped you slide in.

Rather than follow you into bed, he took a step back and the look on your face must have been obvious enough that he reached out to caress your face. “I’m coming back. I need to change clothes.”

Your eyes focused on the large wet stains from where you had been curled up into him. Din crossed the room and your eyes widened and bit when he began to pull his shirt off. His movements were confident and it warmed your heart that he was comfortable enough with you to reveal himself like this. Your eyes trailed over the expanse of his muscular back⏤ admiring the rugged lines of his broad shoulders and the various scars that littered his skin. Din pulled a new shirt on and you expected him to come back. Instead, Din began to pull off his sweatpants. Slowly, you sat up, pulling the sheets closer to you, and you couldn’t help but let your eyes trace the shape of his lower half. You were blatantly ogling this man in his boxer briefs as he tugged on a new pair of sweats. Before turning back around, you saw him pick up his vambrace, pressing a few buttons, before setting it down once more.

Din turned around, tying the strings at his waistband, and he chuckled. His voice came out as teasing and light hearted. Clearly trying to put you at ease. “Are you checking me out, ner kar’ta?” 

“I missed you so much.” You replied. Too tired, physically and emotionally, to tease back the way that you wanted to. Instead, the truth tumbled out of your lips.

He came back around to the bed and slipped under the sheets. As Din’s arm wrapped around your waist, you let him pull you back into laying down. You shifted so your head rested on his chest and Din began to drag his knuckles up and down your spine. “I missed you too. Being away from you was unbearable for Grogu and I both.” Din hummed. “He tried to stay up for you, but passed out. Grogu didn’t sleep well last night. I think my anxiety kept him up.” Your hand was resting on his side⏤ fingers dragging up and down his ribs. You mumbled into his chest. Din’s hand, the one rubbing your back, trailed up to rake through your hair. “I want to talk.”

“About?” You mumbled.

“Ner kar’ta.”

You let out a soft chuckle. “Din…”

“You don’t have to talk to me, you don’t have to tell me anything, but…” Din sighed, “I’d like to know. I want to help.” He massaged the back of your neck right where it met your skull and all your tension sat. A soft sigh left your body as you relaxed in his arms. “I sent Karga a message about Wynn. They’re going to find her. Put her to rest.” You buried your face down into his chest knowing your tears would dampen his new shirt all over again. “I just want to help.”

After a few moments of peaceful silence where you listened to Grogu’s snores and Din’s heartbeat, you turned so your face wasn’t pressed into his chest and you could speak. Hesitantly, you began to tell him what happened⏤ starting with the bombs that fell on Nevarro and ending with Paz leading you out of the burning city as you carried Elodie. The entire time Din didn’t speak. He’d mumble an acknowledgement or hum here and there, but he made no comment. 

When you finished, Din finally spoke up, “Tell me why you said what you did. You said what happened to Wynn was your fault.”

“She didn’t want to go. She wanted to stay hidden and wait for help.” You closed your eyes tightly as the memory of Wynn’s lifeless eyes assaulted you once more. “If I had listened to her she might be alive. Help did come. I⏤I should have been more patient.”

“Ner kar’ta, you made that decision based on the limited information you had. You didn’t know I was coming and bringing help. Where the three of you were hidden wasn’t safe. If one of the pirates did discover you, you’d be pinned down in a hole.” Din spoke with a firmness that left no room for argument. “In that moment, you made the best decision you could. You made the right decision.” He used the arm not around you to grasp your chin and tilt your head up so you were facing his visor. “Listen to me, ner kar’ta. That was not your fault. You did not take Wynn’s life, she gave it to save Elodie. Wynn is a hero. Don’t take that from her by shouldering needless blame.”

There was something about the way Din spoke that resonated with you. His words calmed the turmoil in your soul. Din could repeat the same sentiment that anyone else would speak, but when it came from his lips it soothed your wounds like a salve. He couldn’t heal everything, there was self reflection only you could puzzle through, but he was a hand to hold as you waded through the worst of it.

“Din…” You started. Before you finished your sentence, it occurred to you that the words you wanted to say were significant. You wanted to tell Din you loved him. That’s what you felt right now. It was overwhelming. It was all encompassing. 

Din still had his hand at your chin and he let his large hand shift from your chin to your jaw. He held the side of your face and let his thumb trace patterns in your skin. “Yes, ner kar’ta?”

Saying those words felt like quite the leap. You were confident in the way you felt about him and how he felt about you, but there was a part of you that couldn’t quite push the words out. You were too mentally wiped out to process those thoughts right now. Not knowing how else to express how grateful you were for this man, you turned your face so you could press a kiss to the palm of his hand.

Din let out a content sigh and he shifted his body so you could rest more comfortably against him. He hummed and you heard the rumble of it in his chest. “Get some rest. I’ll be here when you wake up.” He went back to soothingly dragging his fingers up and down your spine. “I’ll always be here.”

You let your eyes close and took a slow breath as Din’s warmth and the comforting smell of him lulled you into the best sleep you’ve gotten since Din and Grogu left. 

Nevarro was in pieces. Rubble decorated the streets and buildings were in shambles. Despite how terrible it looked, Din couldn’t help but be proud of the citizens of the city he looked after. They were strong. Nevarro was already healing only days after the attack. Din walked down the street with Grogu in his arms. The boy was squirming, wanting to get down, but with the rubble and debris Din didn’t want him wandering around. As he walked down the street, every once in a while a person would pause to thank him for bringing help⏤ bringing the Mandalorians. Din would nod in response, but it would shoot a pang of guilt through his chest. He didn’t deserve thanks. He had left them after all.

Din’s steps slowed as he began to pass the school house. Outside of the building, a memorial had been set up for Wynn. Candles, flowers, and cards covered the front steps and Din found himself letting out a sigh. The school teacher was a hero. Din meant that seriously when he spoke to you. It hadn’t been your fault, absolutely not, and both you and Wynn were the reason Elodie was alive and well. Her and her parents were currently off world. The little girl needed more intensive care than could be provided here, but last Din heard the child was doing very well.

“Miss?” Grogu mumbled. Din recognized the title Grogu would call his teacher. 

“Yes, ad’ika.” Din confirmed. Grogu’s ears wilted as he stared at the memorial. Din rubbed Grogu’s back and began to walk again with the goal to reach the clinic. You had left home early to go to work. You’d be there for any emergencies, per the norm, but you were also using today to see many of the people who were injured the day of for follow up. To ensure everyone was healing as they should. Din was of the opinion that you needed more rest, if not physical then mental, but trying to convince you of that was a near impossibility.

When Din reached the corner, Bo Katan pushed off a wall to join his pace. Her helmet was tucked under her arm. The Armorer had announced that the Mandalorians needed to come together rather than fall apart. It was a sentiment he could understand. Mayfeld had asked him about the helmet situation. Mandalorians coming together was a good idea, Din agreed, but coming to coincide with one another didn’t change the Creed he had dedicated himself to.

“Once this place gets cleaned up, I can see it being a nice place to live. To settle.” Bo hummed. Din nodded once, and she glanced his way. “I’m glad your partner is safe.”

“Thank you.” Din replied sincerely. 

“There is something I’d like to speak to you about.”

“I figured.” He said. “Does this have anything to do with retaking Mandalore?”

Bo chuckled, “Good guess.”

“What about it?”

“Well,” Bo kept by his side, “Is there anything I can say that will convince you to come with me to reclaim my fleet from Axe Woves?”

Din didn’t pause even a beat when he answered. “No. There isn’t.”

Bo sighed in annoyance and Din briefly felt guilt at the waves of frustration wafting off of Bo’s tense frame. Half of him felt like it was his duty to help in any way to restore Mandalore, but the other half could not even begin to fathom leaving you again. It occurred to Din that this might be selfish of him. His people needed him, right? He locked his jaw at the thought. 

“Your help would make this all go smoother, I think. We make a good team.” Bo said.

Din chuckled, “Did that hurt you to admit?”

“It did.” Bo smirked. “Which is why you should take it seriously.”

Din paused when the clinic came into view. He turned to face Bo and shook his head. “It’s not that I don’t want to help. Retaking Mandalore is a noble endeavor. One I would be honored to help in.” He paused. “But my family is here. I got lucky during that attack. I... I almost lost her.”

“I understand that.” Bo replied. “I know the weight of what I’m asking you, Djarin. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think it was important.”

Din glanced back to the clinic and did a double take when he saw you coming out. A smile began to form on his features, but it fell when he watched Paz walk out behind her with Ragnar by his side. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. You were wearing your white coat, a look Din truly loved on you, and Paz was chatting with you about something. Something that made you laugh in response. Since when was Paz funny? 

“Didn’t know you were the jealous kind, Djarin.” Bo chuckled.

Din snapped a glare at her. “I’m not jealous.”

“It’s all over your face.”

“I’m wearing a helmet.”

“Yet somehow I still know it is.”

Din grunted in mild annoyance. He wasn’t jealous. Per say.  It was just like with Vanth. Din was confident enough in his relationship with you, even as undefined as it currently was, that he wasn’t worried about someone sweeping you away. Din just had a bad habit of accidentally letting his possessive nature show and there was something about seeing his brother flirt with you that stirred him into wanting to fight.

Both you and Paz glanced down at Ragnar who must have been speaking and you set a hand on the boy’s shoulder with a smile. 

“Hm. They’d make a cute family.” Bo teased.

“Stop.” Din snapped.

He was caught off guard when Grogu jumped out of his arms. Him and Bo quickly followed after the boy who was in a mad rush toward you. Din watched as his son shoved past Ragnar, making the boy stumble enough that Din had a feeling the Force was involved, before leaping into your arms. 

“Oh, hey, baby.” You cooed.

“Ma. My Ma.” Grogu cuddled into your arms while shooting Ragnar a glare. 

Bo glanced at Din. “Aw. Like father, like son.”

Din wished he could take his helmet off just so Bo could see the full weight of the glare he currently wore. He continued forward until your eyes shot to him and the bright smile that filled your features just from spotting him. 

“What are you guys doing here?” You asked.

“Just checking in on you.” Din replied. Bo cleared her throat and Din sighed before nodding his head toward the woman standing beside him. “This is Bo Katan Kryze. Bo, this is Soran.”

You held your hand out to shake Bo’s hand and the red headed woman returned the greeting. Paz let one of his large hands settle on your shoulder and Din felt himself bristle at the motion. His older brother chuckled. “No need to worry. Wero’ika is doing more than fine.”

“Yeah, Paz brought me a late breakfast.” You chirped. 

Yeah, okay, Din was going to murder him.

“Oh, hang on,” You glanced over your shoulder, “I see a problem patient walking in. I’m not gonna subject Aayla to that.”

Din nodded once and you shot Bo and Paz a smile, squeezing Ragnar’s shoulder as well despite Grogu’s complaints, and then you turned to leave. As soon as you were inside the clinic, Din turned to Paz with a grunt. “Wero’ika? What the kriff is that?”

“A nickname, Djarin.”

“Mir’sheb.” Din snarled and Paz laughed in response. Ragnar tugged on his father’s arm before pointing off to the side. Paz nodded, telling him to be cautious, before the boy ran off to play with a group of kids down the street.

Bo chuckled. “I didn’t realize this was the beginning of a love triangle. Interesting.”

“It isn’t.” Din said.

Paz tilted his head and crossed his arms. “I’m unaware of Soran being in possession of a token of intention.”

“I’m working on it.” Din said through clenched teeth.

“Perhaps, I’ll work on it faster.”

Din knew Paz was just trying to get under his skin. Part of his frustration was the fact that it was working. His hands drifted to rest on his hips as he clenched and unclenched his jaw. Paz was smug. Din had known him long enough to recognize the set of his shoulders. 

“I’m⏤” Din began then cleared his throat. “I’m giving her time.”

“You’re wasting her time.” Paz argued with a chuckle. “Wero’ika⏤”

“Don’t call her that like you know her.” Din cut in. “A lot just happened. I’m not going to rush her into anything.”

He glanced from Paz to Bo then back to Paz. Din gave the man a gruff good-bye before pushing past the two of them to head into the clinic. He greeted Miriam at the front desk. Before he could cross the threshold into the main room, the young woman caught his attention and let him know that you were down the hall instead. Din furrowed his brow in confusion, but walked down to find you sitting in the break room snipping the sutures off a patient’s wound.

“Marshal.” The patient greeted with a nod that Din returned.

Grogu was playing with a latex glove on the counter while you worked. You shot him a smile before focusing back on your work. Din settled beside his son, leaning against the counter, and just admired you with a sense of calm. He wondered if Paz was right. Not a line he’d ever say out loud, but Din wondered if he was just finding another excuse to hide behind. He wasn’t sure what he was so afraid of. You’ve made your interest in him very clear, the two of you shared a bond like he’d never experienced before, but still he hesitated.

“Alright, it looks good. No need to restrict yourself, but if it starts bothering you again just let me know.” You smiled. The patient thanked you, gave him a final good-bye, then left. You wandered over to where he stood with Grogu and began to wash your hands in the sink. “Hey, so your brother seems cool.”

Din grunted. “Who Paz?”

“Yeah.” You turned the faucet off and grabbed a few paper towels. “I thought he might not like me because I yelled at him during the battle.” Din’s eyes widened. He’d have to ask about that. “But instead I think I accidentally earned his respect? Also, what does ��wero’ika’ mean?”

Din chuckled. “Little Problem.”

Your jaw fell open. “He’s been calling me a little problem this entire time?” Din nodded. “Son of a bitch. I’m gonna need you to teach me something amusing and mildly rude to call him in return.”

“Oh, I can think of some names for him.” Din replied. He cleared his throat. “I, uh, wanted to talk to you about something, but don’t feel any pressure with this, alright?” You quirked an eyebrow at him. Your eyes briefly glanced at Grogu and you shot your hand out to snatch the latex glove from Grogu’s mouth and wagged a finger at him. “I left to redeem myself. To restore my Creed with the plans to…” Din shifted awkwardly. “To court you.” The corner of your lips curled up. “I know a lot has happened recently, so again there is no pressure here, but I wanted to…make my intentions known.”

You reached out and wrapped your hand above his elbow, between his armor plates, and gave it a small squeeze. “Din, I appreciate your patience and concern, but I⏤ I want this. I want you.” He sucked in a sharp breath. “So, just tell me how we do this. How does Mandalorian courting work? Do I sign on the dotted line or…?”

Din laughed, in part due to relief, “No. Nothing like that. I have…” He reached to the back of his belt to unhook the blade and sheath that was once his. Din brought it around to hold out to you and you stared at the blade curiously. “In Mandalorian custom, a token of intention is given to the person being courted and to accept it means accepting those advances.” Din cleared his throat again. Maker, his mouth was dry. “Tokens are usually a weapon with the person’s signet on it.”

He pulled the blade out of the sheath enough that you were able to see the mudhorn etched into the blade’s side. Din tucked the blade back into the sheath and gave you a small nod. With a bright smile, you took the blade from his hands and he felt like his heart was going to explode in his chest watching you run your finger against the mudhorn.

You held the blade against your chest and nodded. “I accept, Mandalorian.”

Grogu began to clap his hands together and you broke out into laughter that relaxed every single bone and muscle in his body. The only regret Din had was not doing this at home where he could pull his helmet off and kiss you.

mando'a translations:

ni ceta: sorry wero'ika: little problem ner kar'ta: my heart mir'sheb: smartass

taglist:

@aheadfullofsteverogers @yyiikes @kneelforloki @c-ms1ut @sgt-morgan @luthienaliceisilra @missbabyjay @coldlamaspersonspy @dilfsaremyfavourite @emily-roberts @djarinxore @impala1967666 @shelbyteller @faithrenner @dindjarindude @dankfarrick29 @garbo-lesbo @anythingforattention @tearfulsolace @onceinamando @catharinaroxastova @modiddys-blog @harriedandharassed @stagerightlauren @mini-bees @adoringanakin @sagegreensensei @spidey-3 @thepascalofus @hrtsforpascal @lil-dragon-draws @guccistardust @ideajpeg @leithatnight @elfamosotoga @damnzelsoul @the-anchored-sailor-girl @morks-watermelon @katelynmarieyt @taylorann2013 @chonkercatto @dheet @liadamerondjarin @fallinallinmendes @missdicaprio @jennaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa @alphaash99 @djarinsmixtape @pcrushinnerd @closedaddition

[selfindulgentpixies]

Frenzied

Satoru Gojo x Gn!reader (afab)

MDNI And here it is! This has been in a my drafts for a bit. I love feral Gojo but I'm just so slow at smut. I hope it turned out well though and that you all enjoy it. Cw:GN!reader,Afab!reader,only they them pronouns used for reader, Gojo isn't the best at communication, might be a little dub conish but reader is enthusiastic, unprotected sex, slightly dom Gojo, ijichi gets the short end of the stick i'm so sorry Ijichi you put up with so much. Oh and Gojo is very bitey. I like his teeth okay?

He was never supposed to notice. He was supposed to be too focused when he got like this during a mission. Eyes wild with the adrenaline and blood lust, that’s what it was after all, you couldn’t call it anything else. Rarely were you put on missions with him unless your technique was specifically needed, you were more of a utility sort of sorcerer and while yes, technically you were a first grade, combat wasn’t where you excelled. So for dangerous missions where your cursed technique was required you were often put with Gojo. Which was fine! You enjoyed his company honestly. You thought he was funny and he’d seemed absolutely gleeful when he realized you found his antics entertaining.

It’s how you started ending up on more missions with him you’re pretty sure. Because if the strongest wanted something he’d get it. And you’re almost certain he decided at some point he wanted your company because you’re suddenly being put on missions with him where you don’t actually have to be there.

This increased frequency in you accompanying him though is how you begin to witness the frenzy he goes into during battle. The first time it happens you get a little thrill of fear as well as… well you don’t know how to place the feeling exactly. Not in this context anyway, not immediately because you don’t want to admit it to yourself. But after a second and third time you can’t deny what it is, the frenzy he goes into, his show of power, you’re turned on by it. What does that say about you that him laughing sadistically, each titter of sound bleeding out a bit more of his sanity, makes desire spark in your veins. What does it say that when he easily tears opponents apart but still draws it out that you press your thighs together as you feel that familiar coil of heat forming.

He was never supposed to notice though. 

Of course he notices.

It happens on a mission where in your mind you were glad that you were needed at least. It was getting hard to get other work done with how often you’d been getting sent on missions with him lately. Which you knew from rumors other people were starting to take notice of the frequency with which you were going on missions with the strongest who normally preferred to work alone. At this rate you were going to need to have a talk with him. 

But you had more pressing issues right now.

Gojo releases a long breath as he tosses the head of a curse he’d just torn to pieces like it was nothing, passing fingers through his hair, pushing it from his face for but a moment before it flops back over his forehead. His eyes shift to you then and you realize that the frenzy is still there as he turns to walk toward you. It feels different than every other time before that he’s gone to meet back up with you at the end of one of these missions. The air about him hasn’t calmed at all like it normally does as he approaches you. 

A shiver runs through you and you smile a bit nervously. “Guess that about wraps up the mission then. We just need to go get the.. artifact.. from the shrine…” Your voice trails off as he gets further and further into your personal space, backing you against the stone wall surrounding the shrine in question. “U-uh, Gojo, you’re getting awful clo-” You choke a little when the man in question is suddenly fully in your space, nearly pressing you against the wall with his forearms resting against the wall on either side of your head. Oh oh the frenzy is definitely still in his eyes. “Gojo?” 

He closes his eyes and takes a steadying breath, seeming to try and rein himself in. Then those electric blue eyes are focused on you again and he lowers his face closer to you. You’re so close in fact that his warm breath fans over your face. “You like this, don’t you?” 

You stutter, feeling heat rush to your face and well… “L-like what? What are you talking about?” Play dumb, play dumb because there’s no way he’d picked up on how you react to him fighting, right? You’re just coworkers, perhaps friends even. 

“Don���t be coy, you don't think you can trick these eyes do you? I see how you watch me fight, the way your pupils dilate, the rush of blood in your veins-” He smirks seeing how you seem to get more and more flustered as he speaks. “You don’t need me to continue, do you?” 

You shake your head in a jerky movement. 

“Good,” he husks. “Now I’m going to give you a chance to say ‘no’ if you want me to stop. Because if I start I don’t think I’ll stop.” A shiver runs through you at his words.

You think you must look pretty silly right now, with how wide your eyes must be as you stare up at him. A deer caught in headlights. It occurs to you as his words sink in that he hasn’t actually touched you at all yet. Caged you against a wall sure but he seems to have very deliberately kept himself from actually touching you. 

You give a jerky lil nod and he tuts at you. 

“No, I need you to say very clearly what you want. Whatever it is, I'll respect it but you need to say it clearly.” You could swear you see the muscles in his neck strain and his fists against the wall next to your head ball up tightly. 

You stare into his wild eyes, thinking of all the times you’d watched him lose himself to the thrill of battle. Watching the power he displays and wondering what it would be like to be on the receiving end of a different kind of frenzy from him. “Okay.” You swallow thickly. He looks like he’s about to say something but you continue knowing that wasn’t enough. “I want this- I want you,” your voice shakes ever so slightly, but you still hold his intense gaze. 

He grins and it’s all teeth. “You have no idea how much i’ve wanted to hear you say that.” and like his grin his kiss is all teeth too as he presses you against the wall.  Nipping at your lips until you part them for him with a gasp. You feel the fabric of your shirt pull taut before it gives, the buttons flying off to be lost on the forest floor. With the way he devours your mouth you can’t find a moment to protest, though you let out a yelp that he swallows when suddenly he lifts you by your hips and guides you to wrap your legs around his waist. In this position sandwiched firmly between him and the wall you can now feel his bulge grinding against your backside. You whine into the kiss, your arms going around his broad shoulders and one of your hands scratching through his undercut. It elicits a shiver and groan from him and he parts his mouth from yours finally, a string of saliva shining in the moonlight connecting the two of you as you gasp for breath. 

He surprises you by nipping at the fat or your cheek before licking over it and moving to repeat the motion more harshly against your neck. The mark was definitely going to be visible later. “Ah- Gojo wait” you yelp when he delivers a particularly harsh bite along with bucking his hips against you before he speaks.

“Satoru.” 

“E-eh?”

“Call me Satoru,” he says while kissing up your neck, the sudden gentleness a contrast to seconds before. At the same time as he kisses up your neck one of his hands smoothes over the softness of your belly and up to your chest where he gropes at you. “Fuck you have no idea how long i’ve wanted you.” It’s a statement not a question as he catches your kiss swollen lips in another kiss. 

You realize then that you no longer feel the cool stone of the wall pressed against your back but you’re still suspended in air without the burden being placed on your thighs wrapped around Gojo’s slim waist. He’s holding you up with his technique. Something about that makes you throb, clenching around nothing. He chuckles into the kiss and you feel his arm brush against your thigh and realize he’s reached below you followed by the sound of his belt coming undone and then the shifting about of fabric. “Now what should I do about yours? I could just rip them off.” You shiver and he grins into the kiss. 

“Go-.. Satoru w-we still have to get the artifact after and I am not stumbling back to have Ijichi drive us home with my clothes in tatters,” You protest your voice unsteady when  suddenly for different reasons than the rest of the night your stomach swoops. You blink up at Gojo dazedly as you suddenly find yourself laying amongst soft blankets. He’s untangling your legs from his waist so he can step back and pull off your shoes. Once your shoes are discarded he kisses your ankle before letting your foot drop the comforter. 

“No need for you to stumble back anywhere now,” He says smoothly as he steps back from the bed, kicking off his shoes and beginning to discard his clothes without care. You swallow thickly as you prop yourself up on your elbows, unable to tear your eyes away from him. In the dim light of the room, illuminated by the moon and city lights outside the window he practically glows. Each divested piece of clothing revealing plains of hard muscle that had previously been hidden by his loose uniform. All thoughts of your mission have seemingly been wiped from your mind as your eyes slide over him, down to the line of his hips just as he pulls down his slacks and underwear in a smooth motion, his pretty cock springing free. You finally tear your eyes away, your shyness suddenly heating your blood almost a much as your arousal. 

“Ah ah, come on eyes on me.” The bed dips and you feel him run his hands up your clothed legs. He stops and waits for you to look at him once he reaches your waistband and once your gaze meets his he rips off your pants, shreds them like tissue paper as the feral look seems to flare back to life in his eyes. You only manage a squeak as form of protest before he drags you by the hips up toward him. He sits up on his knees leaving you curved with only your shoulders and head still on the bed as he presses his face to the wetness soaking your underwear. When you feel him take a deep breath followed by a groan rumbling out of his chest you cover your face, overwhelmed with how debauched this all is. It finally sinks in that whatever he decides to do you’re along for the ride now.

He bites your thigh, making you jolt. “I said eyes on me,” his voice comes out in a low growl spoken against your skin.  When you uncover your face you're met with his wild gaze. It makes arousal pool in your belly even as it makes your hair stand on end. Seemingly satisfied he moves back to your clothed cunt. Without you meaning to a whimper passes your lips when he takes the fabric between his teeth and he rips it. The fabric dangles from your hips as he leans in to immediately lick up your slit, collecting the slick there before pulling your clit into his mouth. He sucks at the sensitive bundle of nerves, his nose pressed into the hair above it all while you twitch and jerk in his steel hold. “S-satoruuu,” you moan out his name brokenly. You can’t do more than jerk and twitch in his grip since he’s left you with absolutely no leverage with only your shoulders barely resting on the bed. Your hands uselessly scrabble at the comfortner beneath you and you twist the fabric between your fingers as he devours your sweet cunt, his own moans rumbling into your most sensitive flesh. 

He pulls his mouth off of you just as you near your peak drawing a broken whine out of you. “ ‘m so close, Satoru, please-” You watch though as he keeps your folds parted with his fingers and then  gathers spit in his mouth before letting it drool over your entrance. Then he lowers your lower half to the bed so he can slot himself between your thighs. He runs his cock through your folds, wetting it with a mix of your slick and his own saliva before he lets it rest heavy between your folds just seeming to admire the view. You can feel your pulse throb in your cunt, your walls clenching around nothing as his wild eyes take in the most intimate parts of you both. He rocks his hips against you teasingly before he finally, finally begins to push into you, drawing moans from both of you. The stretch something you’ve been craving and you urge him forward by pulling on him with the heel of your foot at his lower back. 

“Just can’t wait for me can you?” He smirks teeth bared slightly when he suddenly fully sheaths himself in you, eliciting a cry from your pretty lips. And oh how pretty they are, all kiss bitten and swollen from him already, they’re so pretty in fact he has to lean down, covering you with his larger frame with his arms bracketed on either side of you so he can capture your lips in a kiss that felt as if he was starved for you.  His cock drags through your walls, languid at first before he sets a merciless pace. Your arms find their way around his neck, holding tight to him like a lifeline as he rocks the two of you back and forth. Your fingers scratch through his undercut and he breaks the kiss, the two of you panting and moaning into eachothers mouths. His wild gaze holding your own until suddenly you’re arching your back up toward him, pressing your chests together as cry out as your orgasm crashes through you. He doesn’t stop, fucking you through it as you clench and spasm, creaming around his cock. 

You begin to scratch at his shoulders. “Satoruuu please i-it’s too much I-” you gasp. 

“Not yet,” he says while nipping at your ear. “I haven’t had enough of you yet.” And indeed he hasn’t come yet. He was so close though as he suddenly wraps his arms around you before dragging you up with him as he changes to a sitting position so he can quite literally bounce you on his cock. The movements eliciting little cries and gasps from you as he sets to further marking up your neck. Soon though he’s simply panting against the column or your throat with the threat of his teeth pressed against your pulse as you feel him spill into you. He presses you down against him, seemingly trying to bury himself as deeply into you as he possibly can.

 He eases the pair of you down to your sides then, his softening cock still nestled inside of you. Some of the frenzy has calmed now and intimately, more tenderly than you would have expected he kisses over your face, lips gentle as they move over your features before resting his forehead against your own. “You okay? I didn’t hurt you did I?” There’s a clarity in his eyes suddenly.

The questions and concern in his voice startles you a little and with your arm not trapped between his neck and pillow you bring your hand to caress his cheek. “No you didn’t hurt me, Satoru,” you say with a euphoric giggle bubbling in your chest.

It’s his turn to look surprised, your laugh seeming to make him shy. Which how novel, The Gojo Satoru looking shy, and after he’d just fucked you within an inch of your life no less. You dart forward the short distance and kiss the tip of his slightly upturned nose. 

The two of you relax into momentary easy silence when suddenly it occurs to you. “Ah! The mission! We were in the middle of a mission and we just left Ijichi-”

Gojo holds you in place as he eases himself up and slips from you, making you wince as you feel his cum begin to slide out of you. You watch as he seems to very unbotheredly crawl to the end of the bed, all while giving you a very nice view of his backside, before he stretches out and you hear the shuffle of fabric before his face is lit up by the light of his phone. He stays like that half hanging off the bed as he taps away with his thumb. You’re admittedly very tempted to smack his butt but refrain for the moment. “Okay, I told him to go home and that I was just going to warp us back because you were so tired from the mission.” You make a small sound of protest to which he glances back at you with a smirk. “Oh would you rather I be honest?” 

You gasp. “Of course not!”  

His phone pings, he glances at it and then crawls back up the bed to place the phone on his bedside table. 

“And the artifact.” 

“What artifact?” Then his eyes widen when he realizes his slip. 

“What do you mean what artifact? You know the whole reason I was needed for the mission.” You narrow your eyes at him suspiciously. 

“Okay what if hypothetically there wasn’t an artifact… and I just wanted to spend time with you?”

You blink at him unimpressed before grabbing a pillow and smacking him over the head. “Just ask me out on a date like a normal person next time!” 

He catches the pillow and lifts it to peek at you. “So I still get a next time?” He’s grinning at you boyishly. 

Your cheeks heat up somewhat and then you clear your throat. “Yes but only if you replace my clothes though.” You motion toward yourself and the tattered bits of clothes that still clung to you. Honestly you looked a bit like a wild animal had mauled you between the destroyed clothes and the bites littering your body. 

He laughs and the sound makes your chest swell. “Deal. I’ll buy you whatever you’d like.” He suddenly moves into your space, leaning his head down so he can tuck his face into your neck.

You spend the night with him then, he helps you get cleaned up and dresses you in one of his shirts before the two of you curl back up in his bed. He falls asleep with his head on your chest as you comb your fingers through his hair. The calm state he’s been lulled into by you a stark contrast to the frenzy that had set the night in motion.

____

Whew! Smut is so nerve wracking for me to write but you don't get good at anything by not doing it. I hope this reads well you all enjoy it. 💕 Comments and interaction are always appreciated.

@strawberrystepmom @missmugiwara @4sat0ruu @icy-spicy @hauntedhearthowl @biscuitsngravie @pastelle-rabbit @missphanosaur18 @crysugu @whispers-of-lilith @nanamikentoseyebags @margumis @demonwoman (thought i'd add you on since you asked for recs tonight so i hope that's okay)

[writers-get-biters]

sooooo tired of feeling bad and shitty and stuck and miserable

fuck my relationship ocd i hate it so much and also fuck being forced to do stuff i dont want by people i dont want to be with sometimes (like now )they get into some sort of fucked up loop where i feel miserable because of stuff in my brain and then theres external stuff which also fucks it up more so then my disabilities become more disabling because obviously and then i get blamed and hurt more externally because of my disabilities that are not! my! fault! and then of course that makes internal shit worse so then im just stuck in the middle forced to pretend shit doesnt suck and actually im fine and actually everythings fine keep being "jokingly" mean to me and pushing my boundaries i dont care i get it its actually really okay if you say something to me that most other people i know offline wouldnt consider mean even though i have told you to stop its okay if you dont stop i guess i guess its fine if no one listens to me and i have to sit in miserable silence by myself because i dont even feel like doing anything that any of my ceters enjoy like drawing or our data entry projects or video games or writing and it doesnt matter i guess that im so stressed because since its from an arbitrary authoritative institution everyone is supposedly fine with that makes it totally okay and actually the real problem is me and i guess im the problem and reason why no one wants to talk to me or communicate with me the way i want to be talked to or otherwise communicated with yeah my bad i guess its all my fault and im supposed to just suck it up and stop complaining and also its creepy and wrong and bad i guess for me to try to cope with any of this the way that i want to and i guess yeah i need to and should be keeping it a secret because otherwise ill make everyone else uncomfortable and thats the worst possible outcome btw no person left behind unless its me in which case utilitarianism is always right and we cant give a shit about everyone yk like someone is always going to be miserable but we should prioritize the most people so if i mention kink (ew) or my other interests (ew) im a horrible really bad person actually because im making other people (more important than me. btw) uncomfortable and upset also i should ignore the fact that i am systematically and systemically being isolated from and kept away from people who might actually show understanding and kindness towards me or be in a similar position and extend the kind of support i desperately need but its cool because you keep saying youre only doing that because im "better than them" and actually youre helping me because "those people" are bad and wrong and harmful and they might make me (simultaneously innocent and guilty) do bad things like drugs that might offer a chance to alleviate some of my pain or transition to a bodymind i& want or be angry or just generally be a "bad person" and not be able to participate in the joys of continuing the chain of oppression and harm. but its fine because its for my benefit actually because you frame it as ""those people" have it so hard and theyre so unlucky (because theyre treated like shit by everyone which is true because people's actions are definitely a matter of "luck") and i just want to spare you from that" how kind of you wow youre so sweet and nice to me right now because i havent violated any of your rules yet what a great person you are because you let me be myself to a certain extent (a tiny little eensy-weensy extent but thats fine because its more than i deserve anyway) and since im being invited to participate in the continuation of oppression and pain it would be pretty rude for me to say no and if i did say no it would definitely justify treating me badly and doing all of the things you do to "those people" to me because im technically actually even worse than "those people" because i could have been normal i could have just accepted your rules (that were literally killing me to follow) (not that you noticed)

and also on the other hand the people arguing against you get to use me as their fun little trick-up-their-sleeve because obviously its ridiculous to treat someone like me the way that you have and will and i can be used as a perfect little pawn

[the ceter who wrote this switched out around here, but before they did, it asked that the others of us post this vent anyway if they were unable to finish or post it]

[brewsterispunkk]

sunshine state

PART NINE: LOVER

pairing: benny miller x reader, benny miller x f!reader

WC: 4.6k

summary: benny meets honey’s friends…and her brother

warnings: 18+ , grief, family drama, honey’s dumbass brother, idiots who can’t communicate, smut.

A/N: sorry this has taken so long!! only two more chapters and then we’re done !🥲 I have been so overwhelmed by the love I’ve received on this fic. thank u to everyone who has been along for the ride and who leaves kind messages—I see them all and appreciate them so much!! I write for u :,) co-written with @jc-writes-bullshit , my beloved motivator.

PART NINE: LOVER

You were going to kill your brother. You were certain.

He hadn’t given you any warning at all that he was going to be getting in a day early and you were going to kill him.

You’d been fresh out of the shower when you’d heard the front door open from downstairs.

At first, you hadn’t thought anything about it, sure it was one of your aunts or cousins popping in unannounced like they always did. Then, you heard your father boom, Quinnie’s home! And your blood ran cold.

That meant that Benny would be facing your brother without you there, which meant you couldn’t do damage control.

Naturally, you’d scrambled. You frantically toweled down your wet hair, throwing on the pajamas you’d worn the night before.

As you raced down the stairs, you huffed to yourself. This was exactly something Quinn would do. Even after your Papa’s death, he couldn’t stop trying to sabotage your life.

Breathlessly, you reached the bottom of the stairs and found your mother hugging your brother tightly. Your father must have been in the kitchen, and Benny had stood from his place on the couch, a cool smile on his face.

You recognized that smile; It was the one he used whenever he was masking how annoyed or perturbed he really was. It was how he’d looked in the hospital room waiting while Mari was in labor, it was the same expression you’d seen him don countless times around Anna.

“How was your flight, hun?” Your mother asked.

“It was good.” Quinnie said with enthusiasm even though the look on his face was stale and annoyed.

When he saw you over your mother’s shoulder, he grinned, and white hot anxiety shot through you like a fleet of arrows. He drew back from your mother’s hug.

“Well, well, little sister - I guess that one,” he nodded at Benny. “Belongs to you?”

Benny didn’t reply, which was both a relief and a slight disappointment. He took a step towards your brother, his motion resembling the way he walked into the ring at one of his fights. His smile was the same as he presented a hand.

“Benny. I’m a friend of your sister’s.”

Friend. The word hit you square in the chest.

“Friend.” Your brother nodded slowly.

He and Benny shook hands.

“It’s nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.” Benny continued cooly. It would look awfully polite to anyone else. But you knew him better than that.

And it would seem Quinnie got the message just fine, as he replied, “Yeah, I’ll bet you have.”

You caught Benny’s eye and shook your head.

“I heard you just got in from base over in Kissimmee.” Benny said, clearing his throat after throwing you a dry look.

It gave you the time to scramble away to prepare yourself as your brother rambled on.

“Yeah, you familiar?” Your brother raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms.

“I guess you could say that.”

Your father scoffed from where he leaned on the wall by the kitchen.

“He’s being modest,” he said. “Ben’s a military man, too.”

Here we go, you thought.

This was giving your brother all the ammunition he needed to push Benny’s buttons, and if there was one thing in the world Quinn was good at, it was that.

“That so?” Quinn smirked, eyeing Benny up and down. “Lemme guess: Air Force?”

You snorted, before covering it with a cough. Your brother looked at you cooly and your mother threw a glare your way.

“No,” Benny chuckled, matching Quinn’s smirk with one of his own. “Special Forces actually.”

Your brother’s smirk fell and his eyebrows raised.

“Nice.” He said lamely, and you had to stop yourself from smiling.

“Alright,” your mother clapped her hands together. You silently thanked her for breaking the awkward conversation. “I’m going to make lunch before we all head over to Monica’s.”

You started at the mention of your cousin.

“Monica?” You asked. “What’s going on at Monica’s?”

Monica was one of your aunt’s daughters and five years your senior. Growing up, she’d been like a surrogate sister to you—all of your cousins had. You hadn’t seen her since your graduation a little over a year before and you missed her dearly. You’d never gone this long without seeing her.

“Well, she and Henry just found out the baby’s gender, so I thought—”

“The baby?” You and Quinn burst at the same time.

Your father chuckled from his place against the wall before you continued.

“Since when are they expecting?”

“Since three months ago,” your father said.

“And no one thought to tell me?”

“I thought I did,” your mom said demurely as she went into the kitchen to prepare lunch. “My mistake.”

As your father followed her in, you and Quinn just stood there in shock. Beside you, Benny snorted at the look on your face. You glared at him.

“Laugh it up, Miller.”

Quinn scoffed, shaking his head in the direction of the kitchen and rolling his eyes.

He picked up his duffle bag and walked to the stairs. Before he got there though, he jabbed a thumb over his shoulder at your parents.

“Some things never change.”

You chuckled. At least you could agree on that.

- - - -

The baby was going to be a boy.

Exactly what the family needed, you thought to yourself sarcastically.

There hadn’t been another baby girl born to the family since ten years ago with the birth of your niece Adela (who wasn’t really your niece, but wasn’t she?). Still, seeing everyone so happy and together in the face of your Papa’s death made your heart ache. In a good way.

There was something awfully poetic about a new life being ushered in just as another made its exit. It was bitter and sweet and so, so real. No matter what happened, life kept moving. People died, and people were born, and life went on.

“What’s going on up there?” Benny asked from the driver’s seat.

He had one hand on the wheel, the other leaning on the center console. His hair was messy, no doubt from his nervous fingers running through it in the hours he was with your family. His face held an easy smile as he glanced over at you.

“Hmm. It’s depressing,” you said, watching your hometown pass by through the window.

“Tell me anyway.”

“It’s just strange,” you tilted your head. “Mourning a death and celebrating a new life at the same time.”

“Hmm,” he hummed, nodding.

A beat of silence passed before he spoke again.

“It is, but it’s also kind of beautiful.”

You hummed in agreement, before he continued.

“We keep living,” he put simply. “We never think we can get through something until we actually do it.”

You nodded.

“It was like that when I moved to Florida. I never thought I could handle that; Starting over in a new place where I didn’t know anyone. But, here I am. I’d do it all over again.”

As the car slowed to a stop at a red light, he looked over at you, eyebrows scrunched together in a tenderness that made your heart clench. Yours held his for a moment before you snapped away, coughing.

What he’d called himself earlier rang in your head.

Friend, friend, friend.

“That’s how I felt when my mom died,” Benny said, a melancholy coming over his face that you’d never seen before. “I knew it was coming; the cancer moved slowly, so we had time to say goodbye, but still. I thought my world would end. And then it happened, and, I mean, it was hell, but I got through it.”

You’d known that their mother had passed when they were in high school. Breast cancer. It’d left Benny and Will orphans, with only their grandmother left, as they’d never known their father. But that was as far as your knowledge went–this was the first time Benny had spoken about it in depth.

You didn’t have any words—you knew how important it was, how big of a step it was that he told you. So, you didn’t say anything, only reached over and squeezed his hand in yours.

His eyes met yours and he squeezed yours back, before tangling his fingers with yours and rested them there on the center console.

You wiped your watery eyes and laughed.

“Enough of this,” you reached over and turned on the radio, Taylor Swift’s voice filling the car. “We should be happy–you’re finally meeting my friends!”

“Honestly, it feels like I know them already,” he said. “From all you’ve told me.”

“I bet,” you snorted. “But I promise, nothing I’ve told you can prepare you for how they really are.”

“Oh god, what does that mean?” He asked.

“It means that Leda is infinitely more snarky, Joy is infinitely more crazy, and Rosie is infinitely more kind.”

“After your aunts, this should be fine then,” he drawled playfully.

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” you arched an eyebrow. “These girls are way more protective of me than my family is. And they won’t kiss your ass.”

“Your aunts didn’t kiss my—”

“Julie was fawning over you the whole evening, don’t even lie.”

“She wasn’t–”

“She was practically feeling you up!” You laughed, throwing your head back.

“Alright, alright,” he yielded.

“You’ll be fine,” you reassured him. “They’ll hassle you, but that’s about it. They’re harmless.”

“Hmm, alright.”

The rest of the drive to Leda and Joy’s apartment was uneventful.

They lived in a cozy apartment complex on the edge of town. It was small and cheap, but it was theirs and they loved it.

The moment you knocked on the door, Rosie and Joy were on you, nearly tackling you. They enveloped you in a hug so fierce that you stumbled back into Benny, who reached out to steady you.

Behind them, Leda was leaning on the doorframe, a wry smirk on her face.

“Oh my god, how are you?” Rosie burst, arms on your shoulders as she pulled back. “Wait. That’s a dumb question, obviously you’re not doing good. I’m so sorry about your Papa.”

You smiled at her.

“It’s okay,” you tried to sound genuine.

“It’s not,” Joy rubbed your arm. “But I doubt that’s what you want to talk about right now.”

“Yeah,” you sighed, suddenly remembering that Benny was still standing behind you. “Oh! Uhm, this is–”

“Benjamin.” Joy said, her arms crossed and an eyebrow raised.

She gave him a once over that was so cold, it made even you nervous.

“Uh,” Benny coughed, reaching out a hand. “It’s just Benny, actually.”

Joy just stared at him blankly. Beside her, Rosie snorted out a laugh.

“Ignore her,” Rosie said. “She’s just trying to intimidate you. She’s harmless.”

You snorted at that; It was only partly true.

“Alright, alright,” Leda, ever the responsible one said, ushering you in. “Get inside. It’s drafty.”

“I made pasta!�� Rosie added, leading you by the hand.

As you entered their cozy abode, you inhaled deeply, and stopped in your tracks. There it was.

Home.

It smelled like high school—like the apple candles Joy burned endlessly, like Leda’s constantly building pile of books, like banana bread and all-nighters and movie marathons and breathless laughter and cherry liquor and drunken phone calls.

Your eyes teared up against your will, and you felt the weight you’d been bearing slowly lift. You sighed heavily.

Yes. You were home.

- - - -

“I cannot believe you flew home just for this!” You practically screeched at Rosie.

“Believe it,” she said through a mouthful of pasta.

“She was going to come home for Christmas anyway,” Leda said, buttering her bread. “She just moved it forward a few weeks.”

“You didn’t have to–”

“I love you, but I swear to god, if you finish that–”

Joy was cut off by Benny’s chuckle. You turned to him and narrowed your eyes.

“Amused, Benjamin?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled, swallowing a bite of food. “I am. This is rich, coming from you.”

“The hell is that supposed to mean?” You faced him, only a little defensive.

“You’d do the same thing for me,” Rosie interjected. “That’s what he means.”

“Exactly,” Benny said. “You never let people just take care of you, when you’d give a stranger the shirt off of your damn back.”

Leda snorted at that, choking on her wine. Joy patted her back.

“That happened once,” she said.

Leda laughed out loud.

“It did!” Leda said.

“What?” Benny laughed. “I’ve gotta hear this.”

“Okay, so it was junior year,” Leda began, but your mind was stuck on what Benny had said not a moment before.

You never just let people take care of you.

It went through you like a knife, gutted you.

You felt so seen, so vulnerable, and you hated it. He had you figured out and the thought made you nauseous.

You’d already known that you were too far-gone to get over him, but the feeling that he knew you to your very bones made your heart stutter.

Until now, you thought that you could handle losing a lover, but losing someone who knew you–someone who saw the bad and good and in-between and understood it—you weren’t sure you could survive that. Especially when that person was someone as devastating as Benny.

- - - -

“I like your friends,” Benny told you as he pulled into your parents’ driveway.

“I’m glad,” you hummed, eyes closed.

You weren’t drunk–not by a long stretch—but the wine was enough to make you warm and sleepy.

“I knew I would,” he added, walking out of the car and rounding over to your side. “Knew they’d be great if you were friends with ‘em.”

He’d opened your door now, and you squinted in the dim light and saw him smiling down at you. His hand reached forward and brushed a hair off your forehead, hand coming to rest on the side of your neck. You could feel your heartbeat through the skin there, and your face felt hot. His scent surrounded you—laundry detergent and cologne and warmth. It was heady.

“Let’s get you inside, honey.”

He grabbed your arm gently and brought it up over his shoulder so you were leaning on him. Slowly and carefully, with Benny leading the way, you climbed the porch steps and quietly entered through the front door your parents had left unlocked. Benny switched off the porch light before maneuvering you upstairs.

Once he deposited you on your bed, you smiled up at him. He was sitting on your bedside, a wry grin on his face.

“I’m not drunk, you know,” you stated haughtily.

“I know,” he raised his eyebrows. “Just lazy.”

You snorted at that, but smiled. He’d known you weren’t drunk and could make it to your room perfectly fine without help; He helped you because he wanted to.

“Mmm thank you,” you said, already drifting to sleep.

“Don’t mention it, honeybee.”

Honeybee, you thought dreamily. That’s a new one.

You don’t know how long he sat there, but somewhere between consciousness and sleep, he squeezed your arm.

“Goodnight,” he semi-whispered.

“Hm,” you half-moaned back, not truly knowing whether you were saying it or dreaming it. “‘Night. Love you, Ben.”

The words were smoky in your mind as you drifted off into sleep, whether you’d said them or not rudimentary. It didn’t matter. You knew the truth they held.

- - - -

You’d been dreaming restlessly of Will and Benny when it happened.

In your dreams, they were fighting; Throwing punch after punch at each other while you, Frankie, and Santi screamed at them to stop. They pummeled each other bloody, so much so that you could smell the iron in the air. And no matter how loud or desperately any of you screamed, they couldn’t hear you.

It was Benny’s hand on your arm that roused you from the twitchy sleep. You gasped.

“Hey,” he whispered your name, crouching down so his head was eye level with you.

“Hey,” you replied groggily. “What’s wrong?”

He sighed, rubbing his eyes.

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“Hm. It’s always one of us, huh?”

He offered a dry chuckle.

“Get in,” you said, pulling back the covers.

With a sigh of relief, he pulled back the covers and slid into bed beside you. He set his head on one of the smaller pillows you had on the bed, facing you. The two of you were so close that even though you weren’t touching, you could feel the heat of his front against your back.

The squeeze was tight. After all, you were in your childhood bedroom–it was a twin bed. His knees knocked into the backs of yours as he shuffled to get comfortable.

“Sorry,” he said huskily. The sound sent heat rushing through you.

You thanked whoever was listening that you weren’t facing him and he couldn’t see how red you were sure your face was.

You forced out a laugh, wondering when the room had gotten so warm.

“I think we’re past that, don’t you, Ben?”

“Yeah, honey,” he chuckled. “I guess we are.”

Tentatively, he rested a hand on your hip. His warm palm seared through your sleep shorts and you wondered when on earth you’d gotten so pent up.

“This okay?”

“Y-yea,” you croaked.

Now that Benny was beside you, all you could think about was how easy it would be to turn around and kiss him, tangle your hands in his hair and have your way with him.

You shook off the thought, not wanting to complicate this any more than it already was.

“Night Ben,” you said, though going to bed was the last thing you wanted to do.

“Night,” he sighed, his breath humid on the back of your neck.

You suppressed your shiver.

-

You awoke to Benny’s hands clasped tight on your hips, holding them in place.

Had you been moving?

You stilled, taking note of your position.

You’d moved in the night. Benny’s front was pressed tight against your back and his breath was heavy in your neck. He’d practically molded against your back in the night, and your ass was melded to his groin. His thigh was in between your legs, and pressing tightly against your—

Oh.

You froze, suddenly remembering the dream you’d had before awakening. The dream about him.

“Honey…” Benny began, his voice unsteady. His hands gripped your hips tighter, trying to stop them from moving.

Shit.

In your sleep, you’d been grinding on Benny’s thigh. You could feel the slick that had gathered between your legs, soiling your underwear.

You felt as if cold water had been poured over your head. When you spoke, your voice came out high and breathless.

“S-sorry—”

Benny’s groan cut you off. On instinct, you tried to shuffle forward—to shuffle away from him because you were sure you were making him uncomfortable. His hands tightened their hold on your hips and yanked you back to his chest.

Then, your breath left your lungs when he pressed his thigh back against your center.

You held your tongue, scared that if you spoke it would break whatever spell had come over him. If this was all he was going to give you, you’d take it.

His hands slowly, almost reverently, moved from your hips up your stomach, sliding under the tank top you’d worn to bed. Your skin was on fire. Electric. His palms were warm as they glided up your body, mapped it. He nosed at your neck as he did, breathing you in, smelling you.

It brought you back to that night at Mikey’s party months ago, where he’d done the same thing in a drunken stupor.

Your breath was coming out in deep pants, and your hands were fisting the sheets at your sides. You gasped when he palmed your bare breast under your shirt.

If Benny had been taking his time before, he lost it the moment he touched you there.

Benny groaned, arching into you more, and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the side of your neck.

You started, grabbing his forearms, and suppressed a moan that died somewhere in the back of your throat. You had begun to move your hips subconsciously back against his thigh, seeking relief from the uncomfortable arousal that was building between your legs. You stilled them.

“This okay, honeybee?” Benny asked shakily, sounding as desperate as you felt.

There’s that nickname again, you thought.

You absently nodded, your cheek pressing against his.You were drunk on him, on his hands on you. You would let him do whatever he wanted.

He moved quickly after that. Focused, like a man on a mission.

One of his hands moved from your breast down to your pants, sliding under your shorts and underwear between your legs. When his fingers reached the slick there, he groaned, a sound that came from deep in his throat. His teeth found your neck.

Your mouth dropped open when his fingers slid through the slick that had gathered between your legs. He wasted no time, his fingers moving up and down while he sucked what you were sure was going to be a bruise into your neck.

“Shit, baby.” He murmured into your neck when he felt how wet you were.

Your cheeks heated in embarrassment and your neck burned. God, you were pathetic. Here you were, rutting against your best friend like a cat in heat. He’d barely touched you and you were soaked.

“Sorry,” you said meagerly, pulling away a bit.

He easily pulled you back against his chest.

“Sorry?” Benny scoffed incredulously next to your ear. His breath made you shiver. “Baby.” His voice strained.

He turned your face to his so you could just barely see him before he pressed his lips to yours messily. It was a messy slide of tongue and teeth and lips, and when his lips let yours go, he held the back of your head so you were looking at him.

“Look,” he said in that no-nonsense tone you’d only heard him use a few times. “This,” he slid his finger down your slit, causing a squelching sound to fill the room. Your cheeks heated up even more.

“This,” Benny continued. “Is the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard. No question.”

His voice was a deep rumble.

“Okay?” He asked, eyes fondly trained on yours. You hesitated. “You,” he squeezed your hip, “are the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard.”

You didn’t trust your voice so you only nodded. Benny let go of your head and hummed.

“Now,” he continued, voice barely above a whisper. “Lean back and let me take care of you, honey.”

You obeyed, returning to your earlier position. Benny hummed again and pressed his face back into your neck. You were quickly learning that that was a favorite place of his. His lips resumed their exploration there and you thought that you could stay like this forever. Forget drugs, alcohol, whatever–nothing could possibly feel better than this. Benny, here pressed against you, with his hands on your hips and his lips on your neck.

You quieted your moans as his fingers kept moving between your legs, hitting every spot that all the guys before him had managed to miss. He got particularly close to your clit and your hips jumped, grinding back onto his thigh.

“That’s it, baby.” He rumbled, moving his fingers faster. You let out a sound that you could only describe as a squeak. “This what you needed? Needed me to take care of you?”

How this sweet, kind, goofy man could be so filthy and depraved in bed, you didn’t know. But god, if you didn’t love it. The idea of a man—any man—“taking care of you” would’ve made you scoff before Benny came around. As if sensing it, Benny continued.

“That right, honey?” He mumbled huskily. “Needed me to come in here and take care of you? Tell me.”

“Yes,” you gasped out without thinking, grasping his forearm. Benny hummed at your response and rubbed between your legs at a new pace.

When his fingertip hit your nub, you moaned breathlessly, unable to contain the sound. Benny hummed in response. His free hand was wrapped around your front, pressing you tightly against his front. His palm squeezed your hip. You quieted another moan as he focused there.

“Uh-uh, honey,” he tutted, moving away from your clit. That bastard. “Let me hear you.”

“My,” you gasped as he started again. “My parents, Ben.”

“Mm,” he said. “We’re not that loud. Don’t hide from me.”

And how could you refuse him when he talked like that?

You moaned softly again as he increased pressure on where you needed it most.

When you came, it was with a soundless moan, one hand on his forearm, and another one twisted back in his hair.

“That’s it, baby. That’s it. Give it to me,” he whispered into your neck as you came down.

Benny moved from behind you as you caught your breath. You leaned back against your pillow, eyes closed, as you willed your heart to slow down. All the stress and worry you’d felt before had calmed. You didn’t know whether it was because of the orgasm or Benny.

When you opened your eyes, he was leaning on his elbow, gazing down at you with a look that looked like what you would only describe as love. Unable to stop yourself, you grabbed his cheeks and pulled his face to yours. He fell over you with a sigh, hands grabbing at your face waist.

He tried to keep the kiss chaste and pull back, but you were a woman possessed. As soon as he got a breath in, you surged up again, parting his lips with yours. He moaned and bowed into you, his whole body covering yours.

All around you was Benny; his scent, his hands, his warmth. You were drunk on it.

His hips pressed into yours, and you felt the hard outline of his cock against your hips. You moaned into his mouth, grabbing his ass and pressing his hips to yours. As if burnt, Benny started and pulled back from the kiss.

“Honey–” he began huskily, voice tight.

“What?” you asked, pecking his lips.

“It’s okay,” he said, stilling your hips. “We don’t have to.”

You furrowed your eyebrows.

“But you didn’t–”

His eyes softened and he pressed his forehead to yours.

“It wasn’t about me.”

You were lost for words. He pressed a kiss to your nose and then to your forehead before rolling over on his side next to you.

You furrowed your eyebrows, more confused than anything.

Did he not want you? Was that a pity-fuck? Did you do something wrong? Your mind was moving a mile a minute.

Benny sidled up next to you, folding into your side with one of his legs over yours. His head hit the pillow next to yours and he dug his nose into your neck.

You were lying the way lovers would. It made your head spin because, technically, wasn’t that what you were?

You had slept together in what was so much more than a one-night stand—to you, at least. For you, he was the only man you’d been with. The only man with whom you’d shared your bed and your heart. He’d ruined anyone else for you.

“I can feel you thinking over there.” He said after a moment of silence. His arm moved to loosely wrap around your waist.

You inhaled deeply, finding all the nerve you had. You were going to ask him. Ask him what the hell you two were doing, and what were you?

“What–”

You began before Benny cut you off.

“M’tired, honey,” he grumbled, and he sounded so domestic that you couldn’t even find it in you to be annoyed. “Ask me tomorrow.”

“‘Kay,” you whispered.

Unable to help yourself, your hand moved to tangle in his hair and scratch his scalp. He hummed, pressing his nose further into your neck as he fell asleep.

[thymehaspassed]

Im not caught up on the thyme lore what happened in june??? (Also, from what i do know, you have every reason to be mad)

Oh boy this is a long story and a wild ride so I’ll put it under a cut

I’ll be leaving out names (though you could probably find them or if you know enough guess who the people are)

If you’re a person involved and somehow come across this. Hello. This is my take on the situation

All that’s here is just backstory for what happened. Past relationship things and I’ll put the actual. Thing in a reblog

Mkay. So this started back in October of last year when I started dating my ex.

We met in a mutual Layton server (they got. Kicked but it wasn’t particularly a negative thing) and kept contact. They confessed their feelings for me after something happened but expressed that they weren’t certain of their feelings. I agreed to try something out with them and it spiraled from there. I guess we never technically said we started dating (I was anticipating a trial period but they kinda just hopped into it)

For the record, I knew their mental health wasn’t the best. It never really was, but it only seemed to get worse over the months.

Fun fact about me is that I tend to mirror the people around me, to a kinda unhealthy point sometimes. So them being ill meant that I was ill and we got into this sort of unhealthy codependent thing. But I was really set on staying with them (to the extent that I was contemplating moving countries when I got old enough. Was planning on lying to my parents and everything. For a person I called with once and had three pictures of total.)

I’m easily attached. It’s just a thing

Anyways, they started interacting with someone in the community because he drew a certain character that they liked a lot.

There were a lot of signs that things were going badly. And I mean a lot of red flags that I simply ignored.

They were pretty notable within the fandom for their writing in art (as in. If you looked up certain characters their art comes up a few times.)

I’m only sharing this because it’s important later, but something happened in November (?). We had a system that when we noticed that each other rbed from someone on the no no list we’d message each other and then block that account. It happened more than once, and they were at least a little notorious for it. Then one day I let them know that they did it. And their answer changed. Their memory was pretty bad and keeping track of everything was hard for them, so they were just saying fuck it.

To support them I did the same, and said I didn’t care. That I loved them and supported them so I didn’t care either. Went down my block list and unblocked everyone (which started the chain of me being unable to block anyone ever again for forever.)

I’m horrible at standing up for myself and setting firm boundaries. I’m well aware that I’m a little doormat. And as expected, they pushed and I set my boundaries back further and further for them. It really was fine on my end, not nearly as bad as it could’ve been.

Mid January they moved on from PL and we started drifting a bit. They still interacted with my content when I sent it, but they moved onto other fandoms (one of which I got into in hopes that they’d talk to me more.)

Then in early February I got a message from someone I looked up to. I’m still rather afraid of him, if I’m honest. A while before that I made a comment that upset him and it made me nervous that he hated me. He messaged me about my partner, that the things they were doing weren’t acceptable and that the route they were on was a slippery slope. I knew that he had bad experiences before, and his points made sense. But they were rather fragile, and I naively thought that it wasn’t that bad.

Around that time (since December, actually) I was kind of tentatively getting closer to the kid me and my partner were mutuals with, and they were venting posting rather frequently. I’d reach out if it was particularly bad, and he’d send me vent art when he made it.

Eventually I asked him what kind of response he wanted when he sent me art (because I wasn’t sure what tone he was looking for). And he told me that he was still nervous about talking with me.

Then we talked more, and he showed me his conversations with my partner.

It was so much worse than I thought it was. The person that told me didn’t nearly do it justice. I freaked out and messaged my partner, and spent the next few hours panic messaging my friend and the person that told me. He apologized for not saying it all.

I understand why he didn’t. It wasn’t his place to tell. And it’s not my place to say it here either.

The next morning I broke things off with them, and it ended pretty messily. I regurgitated what the other person said, and they got upset. I remained relatively calm, but looking back I understand why they thought I was attacking them. I was hurt.

It was kind of stupid that I was upset that they weren’t just hurting me. Fucked up kinda I’m not good enough

But it all spiraled back to the block list thing. While I told them that I supported them, I requested that they not talk about those kinds of things with me. I thought that just because we were talking on similar subjects, they weren’t that far in. But at the time they were leaving the fandom, they just moved onto messaging the kid about the things they thought would make me uncomfortable to talk about.

And I was upset, because I knew that I would’ve been fine with it. My boundaries were already crossed so many times that I knew I would’ve done the same thing.

They blocked me on tumblr, and I told them I was taking a break. I never came back.

That’s the backstory to it. That’s background knowledge.

If you read this far, hi! Welcome to Valerie’s most recent fucked up relationship.

[lonestatus]

hi! i'm doing a presentation on the impact and community of tumblr for my media studies final and i wanted to reach out to my mutuals and fav blogs with some questions that relate to my topic. i would so totally love and appreciate if you could answer some of these for me.

it would be so totally rock and roll and awesome and amazing and i'll literally love you forever and ever and ever! :)

thank you thank you thank you!!!!

the questions:

1. how is tumblr different from other social media platforms?

2. how has the tumblr community affected you as a person/online presence?

3. do you feel more inclined to post more personal or private aspects of your life and or opinions on tumblr rather than other apps? as in do you feel you are less likely to be judged on tumblr than other platforms?

4. what are your favorite aspects of tumblr?

5. what would you do if tumblr got shut down?

6. what are some things that only tumblr bloggers would know/understand?

or

7. are there certain traditions on tumblr that you think other media sites wouldn't understand?(an example being our site wide celebration of the ides of march)

8. what are some of the largest fandoms/inner communities on tumblr? are you apart of these fandoms/communities? if yes, what is that like for you?

9. do you find tumblr to be educational in terms of academics? among other things such as politics and general life experiences?

10. all in all, how has this app changed your perspective on social media, the world, your life, and so on.

please add anything else you find to be important!!

aww im honored!

To be truthful, I don't spend much time on any other social media, so I don't have much experience! But in comparison with insta and pinterest, there's far less reason to use the for you tab. Obviously staff has pushed it in recent updates, but it still holds true, at least for me. I think a big draw for me is the built-in customization in general, with tools for making personal blog themes and post tools.

Since I don't use anything but Tumblr, It can be a little hard to connect with my peers who use Twitter or Snapchat, as we don't really have many other ways to connect outside of e-mail or text, which I think have fallen off in popularity with the rise of social media.

I think Tumblr satisfies my parasocial needs pretty well! I think because of the customization you can accumulate a following that's pretty chill. And if there are weirdos, you can block them very easily.

I've prattled on and on about about how cool customizing most aspects of your experience here is, but to reassert my love for it: When customization goes; I go.

While I have some experience with HTML, I might not make my own website on Neocities or a similar platform. I would probably make a Pintrest again. But if they make it so you can register an e-mail to a Neocities domain I'd be down.

I think Tumblr users like to self-aggrandize so I think most of our traditions and mechanics could be understood by other platform's users... Though maybe a lack of algorithms? I hear a lot of people talking about for you pages on other social media. But again, Tumblr's pushed the for you tab instead of the dash, so I'm not sure that's going to be a distinction for much longer...

8. I don't participate in fandom so I wouldn't know! That's not to say that I don't ever see anything from fandom, but really I'm not sure if I'm missing out on anything. I'm content with the content I do see. I guess you could say I'm part of the "My friends" fandom ^-^.

9. While there's plenty of academic discussion on Tumblr, I don't think there's a replacement to more genuine methods of education. However, there have been things I've been informed of through Tumblr, such as posts summarizing and linking news articles, scientific journals, etc. and methods of accessing them (such as 12ft). In that regard, I suppose that Tumblr has been a fine source of education and keeping up-to-date, though it's far from perfect.

10. I think being able to curate my experience has helped make me less tolerant of ads, weird posts, and other distractions. But I think the greatest impact it's had on me has been all the friends I've made.

[seyaryminamoto]

hey hopefully these aren’t too many questions but im asking mostly because I forgot if you had said so, how is our favourite couple currently where you’re writing & how far ahead are you compared to where the readers are at? and finally how many parts will Gladiator be? I’m sure you have said it already but Im sure I have forgotten!!

Well, they're a fair amount of questions, haha, but that's fine :D

I'm still around 50 chapters ahead, but I've had to invest most of my time into art exclusively over the past weeks, it's why I haven't been able to write as much as I usually do. I was at a 60~ish chapter advantage, I'm not doing double updates atm so that the gap won't get too big to be manageable anymore. I'm pretty sure we all want to keep the update rate steady and constant all across Part 3... so the more chapters I write in advance, the better.

And Part 3 is the final part of the story, worth mentioning. The way I structure Gladiator, each part has its own particular identity as the status quo shifts in some way (Part 1: will-they-won't-they, Part 2: when will they get caught?, Part 3: all hell breaks loose), and each of them have certain storytelling climaxes that basically mark the conclusion of each part, so to speak. For Part 1, the climax was also very literal as it's when Azula and Sokka finally go all the way :'D for Part 2, the climax is the Combustion Man fight, and for Part 3... can't tell you that but I'm expecting you can guess at it pretty easily, haha. After each of these climaxes, we've had some more story to cover before switching to the next bit... Part 3 will feature the longest post-climax chunk of story since we have a lot of loose ends to tie and I would hate myself if I finished everything too quickly. Hopefully all that I just said makes sense? :'D

Also, not sure if you wanted to know this exactly but as things stand, I've posted 7 out of 33 arcs for Part 3... and I'm due to start writing arc 20 :'D Part 3 has a LOT of arcs but they're generally shorter than they were before, I feel? Definitely shorter than in Part 1, where they were the longest in the story altogether, I believe.

As for your other, spoilery question...

Currently, Sokka and Azula are in complicated territory. Which I'm sure comes as no surprise considering what's been happening in the story as of late...

Azula's position is extremely precarious even in what stability she has found, and she has far too many complicated motivations pulling at her from all sides, too many people to protect, all of which comes into conflict with the position she's stuck in for the time being. Sokka continues his full dedication to waging war, but while he's doing well at it, the enemy's upping the challenge in what's coming, and as much as he's trying not to be rash and to make his decisions carefully, he has nooo idea how uphill things are going to get for his push in the near future.

It's worth noting that Sokka and Azula have been able to communicate through their spiritual bond a few more times, as well as having multiple chances of noticing something's wrong (or occasionally, right) with the other, even at a distance. Their communication hasn't always been effective in informing them about what the other is doing... but they're learning about each other's movements through other sources now, too. As expected from our chaotic and beloved pair... neither one is to happy about the other's position atm. Which makes it really interesting to me that in all their frustrations about what's going on, the faith they have in each other really doesn't waver.

I don't think I should say much more than that, but I will say I'm looming closer and closer to their fateful reunion, it will still take some time but not a lot, all in all. I only have two big battles left to write before we get to what we're all waiting for... so I really, REALLY want to finish all the art so I can get to that ASAP XD

[benjamintycandy]

Not to go all old-crotchety-geezer but like, some of these fucking kids have no respect.

It's Halloween night. I put candy in my nice hand-made ceramic bowl, and I had a great time giving out candy to lovely trick or treaters of all ages. At a certain point there's no one visible in either direction up or down the street and I'm all done with my dinner, so I go inside to put my dishes in the sink. I'm gone for one minute and the candy, bowl and all, are fucking gone. Stolen so swiftly I had no way of expecting or predicting the heist.

Like, I get the candy - if you're gonna be an opportunist, fine. You caught me while my back was turned. But the bowl??? You don't have the courtesy to leave the fucking bowl???

It feels so tired and cliché to say "kids these days have no respect" but like, they don't. Or at least not enough do. (There was a very respectful gaggle of teens dressed up in inventive costumes who took candy and excitedly told us facts about the whale milk that one of them was dressed up as - it was a lovely interaction and a highlight to the night.) But all that positivity was undone by one quick act of selfishness. And I can probably accurately hazard a guess that the kids without the courtesy to think of others, the kids who grabbed the whole bowl and ran - have learned this selfish disrespect from their parents.

So many times I see grown adults act out with zero regard to anyone else. I work at a food shelf and we give food out to anyone and everyone without passing judgement, but it is always crystal clear when someone is only thinking of themselves and not considering how their actions might affect another shopper. It's also very clear when someone does show care for the entire community, and it is so disheartening when someone like that is pushed aside at the expense of their peers who don't even give them a second thought beyond "this is my competition." There is such a prevalent individualist mindset in the US (and honestly all of Western society) that causes people to scrabble about and shove anyone aside to get what they want. Maybe it's capitalism, maybe it's white supremacy, but whatever it is, it is so fucking rotten.

All of this to say: I want my bowl back. I worked very hard on it and am very proud of how it turned out - it feels like a turning point in my development as a ceramic artist, and that gives it value to me beyond its apparent worth. The thought that it is now in the hands of some selfish prick who will not appreciate it for what it is worth, who probably won't even give a single thought about where it came from or what it means to the person it was taken from, turns my stomach. This is so much more to me than a petty candy theft, and the thief will probably never even know it, which is the worst part. I can make another bowl and will probably make an even better bowl, but tonight something irreplaceable was taken from me, thoughtlessly, and I am mourning that loss.

[antheiantics]

Breaking down ENTJ stereotypes to uncover the true face of the type pt.1

1. ENTJ individuals are cold and emotionless

Okay, that's by far the most idiotic stereotype of them all and one I haven't been shy to object to in this blog of mine. That's the main reason why I chose to cover it first.

First things first:

No one is emotionless. We all feel things. ENTJs just choose not to show it that much. We are analytical, observant, and what one might call stoic. It's not like there isn't something that has hurt, bothered, or offended me, I just try and find a way for it not to prevent me from doing my day-to-day tasks. No one likes to have to work or communicate with openly emotional messes. Of course, it's a good thing to express yourself... shutting yourself out or pretending everything's fine is an option but never a solution to the issue, and we ENTJs love solutions. They're practically our drive for anything which kind of explains the fact that we're good at finding and establishing them. Being able to control ourselves in tight situations or around certified stress inducers, as I'm keen on calling humans, is essential to us. Anyone can lose their composure, it's always easier to let go than to keep it down. ENTJs understand that and sometimes even unconsciously strive to achieve it, whilst still being on the job to look presentable and socially active. That's where it becomes tricky - to look like you have it together when you don't, to maintain the appearance of the "fine and successful way of life".

Smiling, actively participating in conversations, sharing ideas and opinions, debating when needed, backing down (reluctantly, if it must be somehow defined), taking charge or navigating others while they lead are all part of the things we make ourselves do, to maintain our image of the always prepared person that's capable, well-organised and a tower of strength. To other people, we might seem proud and conceited at first. Sometimes we appear as robots because we take on situations a lot more different than how it's normally expected. We take in shocks well and are durable. Sometimes we think so much, that we forget to react appropriately because we were busy thinking about the possible outcomes. To put it simply, brainstorming is on 24/7. ENTJs are prone to a lot of overthinking. If there are three possible scenarios of how a certain event might go, we come up with four. That's not to say that we're the only ones capable of doing that, a lot of people are overthinkers too, but the main difference between them and us is that their overthinking is derived from possible past experiences (traumas, toxic relationships, anxiety) and ours is more like a personality trait. I can't recall a moment in my life when I wasn't thinking of possible scenarios for all the different kinds of situations I was in. Sometimes it even became too much. I was too aware and that slowed my reaction time to a negative number because my brain was so ahead of the present moment that it already counted the event for passed, finished achieved, you name it - in other words, over.

Being emotionally strict with ourselves isn't an ally to us either. I've had moments in which I've hardly managed to get a word out because I'm so confused about how I feel that my brain just stops working.

When it comes to feeling spectre ENTJs are as well developed as any other person out there (excluding the issues, varying from person to person). However, if we speak about the full emotional spectre, our operating system starts to glitch. Emotions are not unfeelable but are hard to process and when they are hard to process they become a burden. And what do ENTJs do about burdens? Yep, you guessed it right, we remove it.

That's all there is to it. Emotions are not a burden, but when they do appear as one, we push them away for later so we might navigate smoothly throughout our lives. The coldness that's negatively looked upon, is the fruit of the constant thinking of possible outcomes, statistics, and solutions.

Part 2 will come sooner or later, depending on the interest this blog gets. Hope you enjoyed reading, thank you in advance for appreciating my work.

See you soon.

-Antheia-

[indiaalphawhiskey]

I think you could be right about LNT soft seeding a pansexual image. In the articles I read they all elaborated on there being all genders in the vid, which is so important. The WS articles were all gross so we're already in a much better place compared to then. By showing glimpses of men it is planting the seed and it is enough to get people curious and wanting to know more. It will fly over some people's heads but there will also be people, maybe the ones on the fence about his sexuality, who are more curious by it. Also like you said, people who watch the vid again and again might end up looking more deeply into it. So it seems like a small step but it could have a positive outcome. If they wanted to push the womanizer image the vid would have been more sexual. So I think you are right about the soft seeding. It will be interesting to see what his team does with his image after MP because at the moment it's hard to tell if they're seeding Harry's sexuality for an eventual CO, or to ease backlash against MP. I guess we'll find out after that. But I kind of feel like it could be for a CO because HL have been fighting their closet since the beginning of their careers.

It’s interesting, because like everything in this fandom, hindsight is always 20/20. Leading up to the LNT video, we were all talking about why blogs could have possibly received that leaked casting call. For Fine Line, H’s team was so tight-lipped about everything, and now our cup runneth over with leaked info way, way, way before these projects are released.

We were worried that the leak might be because Harry wanted to go with a certain creative concept that was eventually veto-ed, and he wanted the fandom to get a glimpse of what he intended. But, the more I think about it, the more it feels like a leaked casting call was the only way to ‘organically’ seed and draw attention and buzz to the fact that the models weren’t only female.

Sure, we would have noticed either way, but planting the idea early on definitely kicked up talk within the fandom, especially considering the specificity of he wording of “male date” and how that primed us to think of that scene romantically, before we even got the visuals. It led us to make the connection more quickly, given that the hints in the video itself are blink-and-you-miss-it subtle. And, like everything with Harry, there’s a reason why.

Now, whether it’s for more than to ease the public into My Policeman remains to be seen. But I think it’s important to remind ourselves that there’s value in everything Harry is currently doing, whether or not it leads to a coming out.

These “small” things shouldn’t be viewed simply as a means to an end. They’re progress, all on their own, both for Harry and for the community, and Harry’s relationship and connection to his community. Anything that allows Harry to show up as a more authentic version of himself, whether that’s within the confines of his closeted public image or not, is a win for him and for us, and we (as a fandom) shouldn’t make the mistake of trivializing that because we want/are expecting more. 🙂

(All of that wasn’t directed at you, anon! It’s to the fandom, including myself. Thank you for sharing your thoughts. 🥰)

[kass-storycorner]

Mentally I’m getting worse again (tho I try to do all the stuff I learned from two years in therapy to … prevent it from getting bad bad ), so I’ve only been thinking about how some of the Genshin characters would comfort me? So here have this, whatever this is, that I wrote at 2am on a night before I have 11am shift at work. Using you in all of this but honestly this is 100% self indulgent. I just want someone to cuddle with. Pretty sure most of this isn’t really in character and every point is vastly different from the others but hey, it is what it is. As long as I’m in my current mindset my stuff won’t be any better than this

Genre: fluff, a bit of angst I guess idk man, comfort i hope

Content warnings: depression (?) I don’t go too much into detail, don’t want to write out those negative thoughts HA but you know you are just not in a good spot in these, absolutely inconsistent writing, every character has to deal with a different stage of feeling depressed and yeah

Characters: Diluc, Childe, Albedo, Yoimiya

Fun fact: my app crashed while writing this so thank the tumblr admins that you can restore posts you wrote after the app crashes one of the few good features of the app

Diluc:

Would definitely notice the first small changes in your behaviour, but wouldn’t think much of it in the beginning.

Maybe you are just tired? And even if not Diluc knows best that no one can always be chipper.

Still he doesn’t know how to act around you when you are sad / heading towards a depressive episode.

He would offer you his help, you just need to say what you need and he’ll give it to you.

Ah, but Diluc didn’t really consider at first that you would be too afraid to ask, even when he offered it to you.

One day he will directly ask you in the privates of your home if you are okay. At first you would try to brush it off, not wanting to be a burden on Diluc. You know how much he’s been through and that he also has his emotional scars… would be a bit selfish to dump it all onto him, wouldn’t it?

But oh, you’ve been dying to talk with someone about your feelings, craving a warm hug and words of comfort… so when Diluc doesn’t drop the topic you just let it all out.

He will take you in his arms and hug you, cuddle you, as long as you want. He’ll stroke your hair, quietly listening to your words, only small “mmmhs” and “it’s okay” leaving him, to reassure you that it’s fine for sharing it all.

When none of you talks all you can hear is his steady breath and oh, it’s so soothing.

Maybe you end up crying, while sharing all of it with him. All he does is to pull you closer into his chest, saying that it’s okay and tell you to let it all out.

Diluc hides his softer side from the people of Mondstadt, always hiding behind the more grumpy image some of him have, but he knows that it’s not good to run away from your own feelings. What you need to do is to feel them, do not try to push them aside because you are uncomfortable with them.

Generally he would be soft, kind and understanding. At first he might give you too much room, afraid he might be overstepping a boundary when he keeps pushing you in the beginning. Ends up in you isolating yourself / pulling away more, but once Diluc sees the pattern he will be more attentive to your needs and learn to differentiate between you needing space and you isolating.

Though please communicate with him better, he’s busy and if him having less time for you causes you distress you need to tell him, he might only notice it after the feelings festered.

Childe:

Oh boy - he hasn’t seen you in a while, Fatui duties you know, so when he knocks on your door one day he notices immediately that you are not in a good place.

This man - he cooks, he cleans, we all joke about him being the perfect husband but seriously. He sees the state of you, the state of your apartment and immediately helps.

Having spend the last week or two in a depressive state caused you to neglect your housework - the dirty dishes are everywhere and laundry keeps piling up. Not to talk about how you look.

Childe will make you a bath and while you’re in it he cleans. An immense help!!! Taking away a good chunk of thinks that made you feel just so overwhelmed and helpless.

The whole time he wouldn’t breach the topic of why it has come to that point, but now after you finished the bath and the apartment looks liveable again he asks you what’s wrong.

Honestly you don’t know yourself, you’ve been just lacking more and more energy to do the basic tasks and suddenly everything was a mess.

Will wipe away your tears and tell you “don’t cry, I’m here”, taking you in a hug.

When he’s around more, will he notice it when it slowly gets worse? Mmh, yeah!! He definitely notice when you are feeling more down, seeing how your interactions change and how your laughs become more forced.

In the beginning he will just try to make you feel all the “positive” feelings, not wanting you to feel any “negative” emotions at all

this man definitely represses his own trauma a lot and has a horrible way of coping with it so I doubt he would be the most emotionally intellectual person to help you through it

Though when you show that you don’t feel like showing your sadness aside and you just want someone to share it with / need some comfort he will adjust to your needs

Albedo:

Boy as impeccable observation skills, he will notice immediately when something is off.

However - he somehow struggles to understand your feelings. Like. At all.

When he asks you what’s wrong and you tell him that there is not a reason for your feelings, you just feel a bit depressed that’s all, he will not get it.

How do you feel a certain emotions without something causing it? There must be a reason for it.

And honestly he’s right there is always a reason for a certain feeling to arise, but sometimes they aren’t easy to understand for yourself or to spot, sometimes it’s just that your inner child needs a hug and it takes you three weeks and a metal breakdown to understand that this is all you needed… plus a good cry

He’s gonna be so awkward at trying to comfort you, making you feel better, at first. Trying everything out to cheer you up, he really doesn’t want you to feel bad. Asks around for advice what helps others when they are sad.

Honestly? The things he does, the small presents he gifts you - they are nice and make you feel loved, but it doesn’t make the bad feelings go away. Even worse it somehow builts up this immense pressure for you to get better quick because look! Albedo does nice things, he tries to help. He tries to figure it out. Why can’t you give him the results he hopes to get???

Only when someone (Timadeus for sure) finally tells Albedo that it’s not a special dish or flower or even place that helps with sad feelings - it’s that they remind them of something that’s comforting. Klee told him Dodoco helps when she’s sad, because Dodoco reminds her how much her mum loves her. So when people told him about certain foods or flowers - it was more because those were valuable for those individuals, doesn’t mean it has value to you. Most importantly is that he’s just there for you.

With that new bits of information he will try to adjust to your needs more, to learn what you need and to understand it.

He will be so upfront about it too, coming into your room and telling you that he’s been trying to make you feel better the past couple of weeks and noticing how your mood has not improved at all. Finally asks you what you need opposed to him only having asked why you feel that way

Will definitely make you cry with how he approaches the topic. When he apologises for making you cry you cry even harder at how soft he says it.

Albedo will remember what he was told, that it’s important to just be there for someone, so he will stay at your side, his hand on your back rubbing it while you are just sobbing.

After the tears have calmed down you can just be honest with him, tell him that you sometimes don’t know yourself what will make it better, that sometimes you just have to life with the feelings and accept them - but that his attempts really didn’t help.

He will apologise for putting more pressure on you, asking if you need a hug (something a lot of people have told him helps them but he was just to shy to actually try it out). After saying yes you both stay for a long time in the hug, the first thing in a long time to make you feel better.

Yoimiya:

My love, the light of my life, my future main - she would be SO good at helping you through an episode.

Notices the way you act towards her changes and immediately confronts you about it, afraid that something in the relationship is amiss until you tell her the truth that you are a bit depressed.

Canonically the one with the best communication skills, if you were to put her, Diluc and Kaeya in a room I’m 1000% sure those two would leave it as brothers again.

That said she can sometimes be a bit too overwhelming - she can talk a lot, but she’s a good listener too, but in her attempt to fix the issue she goes a bit overboard.

She’ll want you to talk it all out which isn’t a bad thing per se, but sometimes you just don’t feel like talking or that talking would help.

However the way Yoimiya is it will make you communicate with her more about how you feel and what you need - she kinda just seems to be more approachable and the kind of person you can pour my heart out to after meeting her on the toilets of a bar.

Will cuddle you as long as you need.

And honestly? 100% sure she would even make you a firework to cheer you up that you both watch from her favourite spot on a blanket while doing so (the cuddling!)

or you know maybe it’s just what I would really want to do with her when I’m depressed aka RIGHT NOW MAN

[catboybiologist]

So.

You're wildly misinterpreting what's going on here, and also over exaggerating what they're saying here.

This is a wildly unfocused ramble btw, so please don't jump on me.

This video is essentially a "baby's first" video about HRT, predominantly aimed at cis people or prerealization trans people who don't have a good idea of the concept at all.

My frustration at T blockers without E isn't a frustration at particular people circulating sources, its a frustration with current medical guidance, which can often underserve trans people and the unique approaches to HRT. One of the ways that doctors prescribe things without deeper thought is blanket AA without E, and no thought as to why that might not be ideal for their particular patient, or monitoring of blood levels.

This video doesn't say that at all. I didn't watch a whole ton of it, but in fact, I don't think it says anything about blood T or E levels at all. Its not nearly that in depth of a video. And guess what? Some people will actually do just fine on a AA only. The only way to know for certain is to have clear communication with a provider or expert about your particular situation- which is exactly what the video encourages.

Presenting it as a standard option for everyone is a problem, but that is straight up not what the video is saying. In fact, they present it as an alternate option for people wanting to customize their HRT, instead of standardizing any one idea at all.

I genuinely could write an essay on HRT overthinking, myths, and the ways people pounce on stuff like this, but I already have way too many ideas beyond my time level. I don't wanna pounce on you- but maybe calm down. This is a wonderful video for what it does, and there's actually no misinformation in it. The way you stated it, I thought this would be some trans person making a video about HRT minutia openly pushing for a particular HRT regiment that always starts with AAs, and without E. That's not what this is at all.

If you're considering HRT (you or anyone reading this) Just remember: there's no way to do HRT so wrong that it kills you, or even impedes your results long term in a significant way. You can feel crappy along the way, which is the low T and low E problem, and you can have slower or faster progress, but the biggest thing is just to breathe.

and i forgot the link, its https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DmRWHdJwtGw at 13:25

Gorcha, I asked about this in my ask response so if ire that part

Still, your first reaction to hearing something that you suspect is misinformation shouldn't be to "urgently" use me as some kind of gotcha

[reids-rendering-reality]

Criminal Collar

Summary: Spencer meets Y/N’s ex-boyfriend and renowned criminal consultant for the White Collar Crime Unit of the FBI, Neal Caffrey.

(A/N: this is a cross-over between White Collar and Criminal Minds. There are no spoilers for WC and you don’t need to have watched it to read this. Also, I know I made Neal a little meaner than he is, but it fits better with my storyline oops)

Type: angst, with the end being fluffy and a little smutty

Warnings: mentions of criminal activity, insecurity, jealousy, making out

Word Count: 2.4K

Reader’s POV

I joined the BAU about one and a half years ago, after leaving the White Collar Crime Unit of the FBI. Honestly, I was kind of glad when Strauss requested my transfer and my new team suits me way better. Especially because I’ve started dating Dr. Spencer Reid 6 months ago and he makes me really happy. However, I guess luck wasn’t on my side this week.

Like it always is when things like this happen, it was a regular day at the FBI. I was working on some paperwork at my desk before JJ would brief us on the new case in half an hour. That was when Hotch appeared from his office.

“Y/L/N, can you come into my office?” he said looking down at me into the bullpen. When I just looked up at him confused for a moment, he continued “now, please.”

I got up slowly, exchanging a few worried glances with Spencer before walking into his office.

“Agent Burke from the White Collar unit has requested you to go downstairs and consult on a case,” Hotch said in his typical ultra-serious voice.

“Do you know what case this is? I am working on this team now,” I said, a little worried that I would have to return to the WCU.

“I don’t know. But don’t worry, you won’t be transferred again. Head down now, we’re leaving in an hour. Spencer will brief the case to you on the jet,” he said while mustering my anxious stance.

When I returned to the bullpen, I quickly organised my desk so that I could leave for the jet right away.

“What did he want?” Spencer asked, suddenly standing next to me which made me jump a little.

“WCU needs a consult on a case, but I’ll be back in time for take-off,” I said, avoiding his eyes and getting ready to leave for the elevator.

I walked past Spencer and didn’t turn around once, but I could feel his eyes on the back of my head. Not only his though, I felt the entire team stare me down as I disappeared into the hall.

 The rest of the week was relatively eventless – for the BAU at least. I gave Burke his consult on the case and headed to Texas with the others. The case was not too difficult or straining.

When we returned to the office, it wasn’t even late. It was midday, and everyone was chattering about happily in the elevator. But when the elevator doors opened, the mood shifted completely. Right there, in the bullpen, sitting at my desk, I saw a figure in a black fedora. My breath hitched and I could feel Spencer look over at me. When we exited the elevator, the figure turned around and revealed his face.

“Is that-“ Morgan began baffled.

“Neal Caffrey,” I finished a clear sour undertone to my voice. Both Morgan and Spencer looked at me weirdly. It was unusual for me to talk in this way, I don’t think they have ever heard it before.

I pushed open the glass doors and hurried away from the others towards the man sitting at my desk.

“Y/N/N! So nice to see you again,” he grinned up at me as I approached him. I could still feel the four pairs of eyes burning into the back of my head.

“Neal, what are you doing here?” I said, my voice even more furious than before. At the same time, my mind was racing about how I would explain all of this to Spencer and the others later.

“Can’t we just talk like we used to? I saw you in Burke’s office on Monday,” he said, still grinning and making no move to get out of the chair.

“Fine, come with me,” I walked away towards the conference room, hearing him following behind me in his typically slow and casual stride.

 Spencer’s POV

I felt my jaw being open during their entire interaction and quickly shut it as they entered the conference room.

“What was that all about?” Prentiss asked curiously.

“That’s Neal Caffrey, the criminal consultant down at the-“ I began to explain almost automatically.

“I know who he is, but how does he know Y/N and why is he here?” Prentiss interrupted me.

“Well, Y/N worked down at the WCU before she was transferred here. I heard a rumour from a friend that works there. Apparently, Y/N was dating him during her time there and when a case ended badly for them, they suspected that she couldn’t work there with him anymore. He did some scandalous things that not only endangered the reputation of their entire team, but also the entire FBI. Some say, Y/N was in on it and didn’t tell anyone. But after a couple of examinations, she was transferred here instead because Strauss thinks she’s invaluable to the FBI,” JJ explained to all of us.

“She dated a criminal? Damn, I never would’ve expected that from her,” Derek said and looked up to the conference room and then said a little more quietly, “quite a change in her type since she came here.”

I looked at him incredulously, before looking at my hands and fidgeting with them.

“Did you know about this, Reid?” Prentiss asked me.

“Me?” I looked up again, “What- uh- no, of course not!”

“How did you not know that your girlfriend’s ex-boyfriend is one of the most famous white-collar criminals?” Morgan asked.

“We haven’t really talked about that stuff,” I said quietly, “it’s not like I would’ve had anything to share.”

“So you’re telling me, you’ve never had the uncomfortable talk about exes with her? For a genius, you do not have a lot of experience with relationships,” Prentiss said, her tone almost joking.

“What do you think they’re talking about in there?” I tried to deflect the topic of conversation away from me while looking up at the conference room, where Neal was just closing the blinds.

 Reader’s POV

“So, why did you come here?” I asked, closing the door to the conference room behind me as Neal looked around.

“Surely you miss the WCU. This place is dark and gloomy. The cases are grim and the undercover operations aren’t nearly as glamorous. Plus, I’m not there,” he grinned at me. I couldn’t help but chuckle at his attempt at flirting with me.

“Cut the crap, I left the WCU for a reason. Don’t make me ask again: why are you here?” I could feel my annoyance rise.

“I’m here because of you. I just want to talk to you. We haven’t seen each other in so long, I wanted to catch up a little,” he paused, walking around the table, “you can’t tell me you haven’t missed me.”

“I haven’t,” I said.

Before I could continue to speak, Neal continued, “right. Like I would believe that,” he looked out the window into the bullpen where the team was standing, trying not to stare too obviously, “but then again, here’s that lanky boy. He keeps looking at you in a certain way. Is he your boyfriend?”

Neal glanced at me for a moment, before turning his attention back to the window and closing the blinds with a bright grin.

“That’s none of your business. My life is none of your business anymore. You put me in so much danger without even caring about the consequences. That’s why I transferred here. So please, just leave me alone.”

He now walked over me in casual strides. I mustered him, the memories resurfacing at the sight of him in that typical classy Italian suit, with a pin on his tie. He was always dressed so properly. But the way he behaved was just the opposite. Yet, a tiny little part of me looked at him and saw that attractive man that I had fallen in love with over the years working with him.

He stopped when he was standing right in front of me, brushing a strand of hair out of my face.

“Y/N, don’t you think it’s time to let that go? That was such a long time ago.. I’ve changed, you know?” he looked into my eyes with a sincerity that I would’ve believed one and a half years ago. But working at the BAU taught me a lot about reading people, seeing typical communication and manipulation strategies. I wasn’t falling for his lies anymore.

“Is that all you came here for, Neal? Trying to get me back? Because I won’t ever go back to you. I’ve moved on and I realised that dating you, to begin with, was a huge mistake,” I said with the most confident tone I could muster.

That last part wasn’t entirely true. While he did hurt me, my reputation, and everything I stood for repeatedly, he still was a part of me. We had been in a relationship for years. There were so many good times that I had to let go for my well-being.

To be convincing with my words, I walked past him, towards the door, “it’s time for you to leave.”

After a little bickering back and forth, he finally walked out of the BAU. I could see that the team had left, only Spencer was still sitting at his desk, working on some paperwork. He was waiting for me to go home together, just like always. The sight warmed my heart; Spencer was so good to me.

But of course, Neal wouldn’t just leave without a bang. Walking past Spencer’s desk, he stopped for a second and said, “take care of her. She obviously needs you to get over me.”

Spencer looked up at him with wide eyes as he spoke and didn’t even respond before Neal had left into the elevator. Spencer turned his head and looked up at me.

 We were on the way home to my apartment, just like always when we returned from a case. We sat there in silence, Spencer’s eyes focused intensely on the road as he was driving.

“Spencer?” I asked softly looking over at him. He just gave a tight-lipped hum in response.

“Can we talk? I assume you have questions, but you haven’t said anything yet.”

He cleared his voice before responding calmly and quietly, “I just didn’t want to discuss it at the office. There isn’t anything to talk about. I know about one of your exes now.”

“But what he said to you. And everything. It must-“ I huffed, “you look like it bothers you. Don’t you want to share what you’re feeling? Maybe I can help you process.”

Spencer gave me a quick glance, seemingly ignoring my concerned face with a cold expression.

“What do you want to hear? Do you want to hear how I keep thinking I’m not good enough for you, regardless of what happened today? How that just made me feel worse? Do you want to hear about how embarrassed I was when JJ told us that he is your ex-boyfriend and I, your current boyfriend, didn’t even know about it? Do you want to know about all the other things I’m imagining you hiding from me? How my mind is racing with all my insecurities that you already know about because I tell you things that bother me while you don’t?” he said, his voice getting louder and louder with each question while his grip on the steering wheel tightened.

“Do you want to know about how Morgan even commented on the fact that he is so different from me and your type has changed a lot? How do you think all that makes me feel? When it isn’t coming from you?” he continued angrily.

I didn’t know what to say. To be honest, I was a little speechless. I thought it would bother him, but not like this.

“See? That’s why I didn’t want to open up. It’s not like you have anything to say about it anyway,” he said, his tone ice-cold.

The rest of the car ride was silent. My mind was racing with things I could respond to him, but nothing came to mind. When we arrived at my apartment, I was surprised that he parked the car. I had assumed that after that speech he would just drop me off and go home alone.

Before I could move, Spencer had turned towards me and taken my hand into his gently.

“Can I come inside?” he asked softly, his demeanour completely different from before.

“Yes, of course, Spence,” I replied gently.

Upstairs in my apartment, we sat on the couch together.

“I’m sorry for snapping at you earlier. I’m just really bothered by it. He is everything I’m not. He is attractive, charming, has a good style, and even just muscles. He is-“ Spencer began, but I cut him off.

“and he is a criminal. Listen, Spence, I completely understand how you feel. But, behind his attractive mask, there is so much more, that just isn’t attractive. To me, his personality wasn’t attractive. He didn’t treat me well and only cared about himself. He only cared about the lifestyle he wanted to lead and he could never let go of his criminal past.”

Spencer just looked up at me from his hunched position with his big brown puppy eyes.

“Plus, just because he is attractive doesn’t mean you’re not. God, I think you’re so hot. Your face, your hair, those sweater vests. You’re completely different from him, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t attractive. And when you use that big brain of yours to solve cases and explain things, that no one else knows and that most people don’t even understand. I think you’re incredibly attractive. And your intelligence is very charming, and-,” I began to ramble about all the things I loved about him.

But before I could continue speaking he had grabbed my face and kissed me on the lips passionately. His lips moved against mine, as his hands entangled in my hair. I almost moaned into his mouth as his tongue found mine and my hands reached for the back of his neck.

When we pulled apart, he was breathless and said with a slight pant, “so you think I’m really hot, huh?”

And I didn’t know how to respond to that in any other way than to just slip onto his lap and kiss him again.

[thekisforkeats]

Love Languages

Info: The Magnus Archives, JonMartin, rated T probably for swears. Canon-Compliant. Set post-MAG 22, with a coda post-MAG 159. Everyone is ND and everyone is trans because that’s just how my personal S1 Archives gang rolls.

CWs: Mentions of ableism and Martin’s mother. I’d say canon-typical worms but the worms don’t really come up except in passing.

I do not know anything about BSL, so I did not try to describe the signs.

Summary: A love language is not just about how you best show love and affection; it is also about the ways you best receive love and affection. And so, for someone like Martin, who shows love by going out of his way to help others, someone going out of their way to help him, well. What better way for him to realize just how loved he is?

--------------------------------------------

The first time Martin went completely non-verbal after starting work in the Archives, it was the morning after giving Jon the statement about Jane Prentiss.

It wasn’t a surprising development, really. Martin didn’t go fully non-verbal that often, but when he did it was almost always a thing that started in the morning and lasted most of the day. Sometimes it wore off by the time he went to bed, sometimes it lasted until the next morning.

After his mother’s diagnosis, he’d been unable to speak for an entire week. That hadn’t gone over well--as much as his mother wanted him to be quiet, she didn’t like the “silent treatment,” as she called it.

Martin hated that she’d called it that, as though his non-verbal episodes were anything he did on purpose. Some days talking just felt like a chore; those days he could get by only forcing words out when he had to. But some days, the worst days, he just couldn’t talk. He could understand other people just fine, he could make noises, sometimes he could even hum. And he could definitely read and write. But speaking words, aloud? No. He could not speak, on these days, however much he may have wanted to.

As Martin grew older and learned more about himself, he learned words and reasons and coping mechanisms. He realized that some of the problem came from dysphoria and the longer he was on hormones the less often it happened. He realized that he was autistic (even if he never got diagnosed), and learned how to handle the episodes that still occurred. He took sign languages classes because it was a good and useful thing to know regardless, to be able to communicate with more people.

As many Deaf people had learned before Martin, he’d found himself in plenty of situations when nobody around him knew BSL, so he’d found a phone app that let him type out things he wanted to say and repeated them in a tinny, mechanical voice. Feminine, but he found it didn’t cause dysphoria; it wasn’t his voice. It was the app speaking for him, a robot lady translating his words.

Martin was fairly certain he was going to need the robot lady to speak for him today, and he was dreading the whole idea. The app got him a range of reactions from scorn to derision to faux sympathy. The last time he’d done so at work, the Institute library staff had regarded him with such pity that he’d called in sick the two other times it had happened since.

He’d woken early, because he was always awake fairly early, to ensure he looked presentable and got to work on time. He did not want Jonathan “Crisply Professional At All Times” Sims giving him that look again. The particular look that was “I highly disapprove of your sartorial choices but I’m not going to get into it right now because I have so very much else to do. Nonetheless, if I could fire you for what you’re wearing I would.”

Jon had a lot of looks. Martin fervently wished he could stop categorizing them; he very much disliked his boss, and very much wanted to stop thinking about Jon quite as much as he did.

Jon was attractive, that much Martin had noticed the first day he’d come in, with a jawline Martin would’ve loved to trace with his fingers, eyes sharp and deep and intelligent, salt-and-pepper hair that Martin would have tangled his fingers in gladly.

Except, of course, that Jon was also a prick who didn’t like Martin one bit and made that very clear. He’d put down on record that he thought Martin would “contribute nothing but delays.” Martin was not such a sucker for punishment that he would put up with someone who hated him just for a pretty face. The tiny potential blossom of a crush had been, well, crushed five seconds after it had poked its head above ground, by Jon’s declaration that he could dismiss Martin if he didn’t resolve the “dog situation” immediately.

Martin counted his lucky stars every day that Jon had not, in fact, dismissed him, despite having had to deal with a doggy mess. The luck was really in having Tim around, Martin figured; Jon actually seemed fond of Tim, and the other man had managed to smooth the entire situation over.

Martin had fallen asleep last night thinking about the new look Jon had given him yesterday: concerned. Truly, genuinely concerned, which had rather taken Martin aback. He’d been certain Jon wouldn’t believe him, would scoff and roll his eyes at the entire statement, and instead he’d just looked… concerned. 

And then Jon had offered Martin the cot that he’d woken up in this morning.

It wasn’t the look of concern that had Martin non-verbal, though; of that he was certain. It was the stress of the last two weeks, and dumping out the statement yesterday, and all the whirl of figuring out how to live in the Archives. Jon’s insistence on going with him to pick up basics with a toothbrush at the convenience store, and then coming back to be sure he was okay. Jon finding clean sheets and discussing how he’d do his laundry. Jon had expensed clothing bought online to the Institute, including next-day shipping, because he’d “lost access to his flat and thus his wardrobe in the line of duty.” It had all been bewildering and overwhelming and it was no real surprise that Martin was in the state he found himself when he woke.

Martin had known as soon as he’d opened his eyes. It was just there, the feeling of nope can’t talk today. He’d pulled on his binder and the same clothing he’d worn the day before and then fumbled around for his phone. Which… he didn’t have. The damn worm-hive-lady had stolen it from him. Well, shit.

He managed to avoid having to figure out how to talk while he went out to get breakfast, just pointing at a scone in the display and smiling at the guy behind the counter as if he wasn’t secretly irritated by the price of everything in Chelsea. By the time Martin got back, Jon was already in his office, so thank God he’d avoided that awkward interaction. He went to make himself tea, and had his breakfast in the breakroom, and brushed his teeth, and then went to get started on…

Wait. He didn’t even know what they were working on right now.

Well, he wasn’t going to bother Jon about it; however nice he’d been last night it surely must have worn off by now, and Martin had no interest in summoning one of his boss’ looks this early in the morning. Normally he’d still be on his commute at this hour.

After a moment’s thought, he went to go see what they’d recorded in his absence, and soon had a stack of statements on his desk. They’d gotten through five statements in the two weeks he’d been gone. Maybe Jon was right. Maybe Martin did contribute “nothing but delays.”

Pushing the thought aside, Martin focused on listening to the tapes, and was just finishing up listening to the second half of Father Edwin Burroughs’ statement when Tim came into the shared office the assistants used.

“Hey, you’re in early. You get the email?”

Martin raised his eyebrows and shook his head.

Tim snorted. “Jon claims he’s got something to warn us about, something that ‘won’t parse properly through digital means.’” He rolled his eyes. “Which is Jon-speak for ‘it’s a weird thing and I don’t want to admit it’s a weird thing because I have to keep my skeptic hat on to preserve my self-image.”

Martin chuckled in solidarity, then gestured toward the door to Jon’s office, to indicate that’s where their boss was.

“Not coming?” Tim asked, his own eyebrow raised. When Martin shrugged, he said, “Well, I guess if you didn’t get the email…” Tim also shrugged, then said, “Guess I’d better get it over with. Wish me luck!”

Martin gave him a thumbs up.

When Sasha came in, Martin silently directed her to Jon’s office as well, then heaved a sigh of relief. He hadn’t had to explain being non-verbal at all yet, and it was already nine o’clock. Maybe if he was lucky, Jon would warn them off talking to him and he’d manage to make it the entire day without having to explain the whole “non-verbal” business to anyone he saw on a regular basis.

Alas, it was barely thirty minutes later that Tim and Sasha returned to talk to him, both wearing expressions of mingled concern and guilt. When they spoke it was a flood of the usual, expected platitudes:

“We’re so sorry!”

“We didn’t know!”

“Are you okay??”

And such like.

Martin shrugged and nodded and shook his head in all the right places, and evidently Jon had played them the tape of his statement so he didn’t have to explain it all again (thank God), and he thought maybe, maybe he could even figure out what statement they were working on right now if he just listened to their chatter after they were done with the niceties, but then…

Well. Then Timothy Stoker happened.

Which is to say, Tim actually looked at Martin, and said, “You’re being awfully quiet. You sure you’re okay?”

And then he and Sasha just… sat there, looking at him expectantly.

Martin sighed and reached for a piece of scrap paper and wrote, I’m autistic and sometimes I go non-verbal. Today’s one of those days, but I don’t have my phone anymore, so no communication app.

As he held up the paper so the others could read the words, Martin braced himself for the ensuing reactions. Pity, probably, like those in the Institute library, and he couldn’t even call in sick to avoid it; he’d rather have scorn and derision. At least those reactions were honest.

What he got from them was not pity, however, nor even scorn.

Sasha hummed. “Autism explains a lot, actually. Don’t worry, it’s not a problem.”

Tim grinned and clapped Martin on the shoulder. “Yeah, why didn’t you just say so? It’s fine, you’ve been through an ordeal. And so you know--you’re hardly the only neurodivergent in the Archives.”

Martin blinked at Tim, then wrote: Wait, what? Who…?

“Would you believe me if I said all of us?” Tim said with a grin. “I have ADD, Jon’s… well… he’s Jon, and as for Sasha…”

Sasha sighed in fond exasperation and cut in, “Tim…”

“I contend that you cannot be neurotypical, Ms. James. You fit in too well around here.”

“I am not admitting to anything on Institute property,” Sasha said with aplomb. “And you shouldn't have either, but here we are.” She looked at Martin. “If HR finds out and they give you any trouble, let us know and we’ll figure out what to do.”

Tim, in the meanwhile, pulled out his phone. “Here, go ahead and use mine for now, until your replacement gets here or whatever. What’s the app so I can install it for you?”

Martin’s jaw had dropped open. Tim having ADD made sense; what did he mean about Jon, though? And Sasha? And what did Sasha mean about HR? And… and why were they being so… nice? So… understanding? It wasn’t an act, or at least he didn’t think it was. They seemed… genuinely fine with it. Accepting, even.

It was the strangest thing Martin had experienced in a while, and that was including the worm-riddled woman who’d stood outside his door for two straight weeks.

From there the day just… went on as normal. Tim installed the app on the phone, Martin’s robot phone lady spoke for him, the three of them did their work, and everything was fine.

Until, of course, the nature of their work reared its ugly head. They were discussing the statement of Leanne Denikin, case #0051701, which they had yet to attach a pithy name to; hence the discussion. It had long since become standard practice to attach a name to the “weirder” statements, to make them easier to discuss. (Jon insisted on using the case numbers on tape still, which was annoying, given that was the only place he did that.)

Martin was reading through the statement, and he typed into Tim’s phone: What do you think of this bit? “Be still, for there is strange music.”

What came out of the phone’s speakers, however, was garbled static followed by high-pitched screeching that startled Martin so much he actually dropped the phone.

Jon was walking in just as this happened; he stopped in the doorway, blinking. “What on Earth was that?”

“Martin’s robot lady gave Tim’s phone an aneurysm, I think,” Sasha said, eyeing Martin as well.

Martin scrabbled on the floor for the phone, pulled up the app (which had crashed), and typed, I don’t know what happened!! I was just typing in something from one of the statements!

Jon frowned at him sharply. “What are you doing with Tim’s phone? Are you quite well?”

“No, Martin is not ‘quite well,’” Tim said. “Non-verbal for the day.”

Then Jon did something that stunned Martin: Jon signed at him, specifically, “Do you know sign language?” He spoke aloud as he said this, too, but also raised his eyebrows and gave a quizzical tilt to his head to convey that he was asking a question.

Martin blinked rapidly, then signed back: “Yes, actually. But Tim and Sasha don’t.”

Jon nodded, then said aloud, along with signing, “Why are you non-verbal, exactly?”

“I have autism,” Martin signed. “Sometimes talking is overwhelming and sometimes, especially in stressful situations, I can’t talk at all. Woke up that way today. It should be gone by tomorrow morning.” Why was he explaining so much more to Jon than he had to the others? Maybe just because Jon knew sign, and thus could communicate in a language Martin found much easier than even the typing.

Jon frowned thoughtfully, then nodded again. Then, still speaking and signing both, “What were you typing into your phone?”

“Be still, for there is strange music. From the statement.” Martin gestured to the statement on his desk.

Jon’s frown deepened and he repeated the words. “‘Be still, for there is strange music….’” His expression went slack for a moment, and then he shook himself. “Right. Well. Just… just… I’ll be right back.” Then he abruptly turned and left the room.

Tim and Sasha exchanged bewildered looks. Then Sasha asked, “Do you know what that was all about?”

“I forgot Jon knows BSL,” Tim replied thoughtfully. “Hard of hearing on one side. Not that he’d have agreed to interpret all day or anything.”

Martin shrugged. It’s alright, he typed. This works just fine.

“Well, no, obviously not for some things.” Jon had reappeared as suddenly as he’d disappeared, holding a small brown notebook the size of Martin’s hand. “Here,” he said, thrusting the notebook at Martin. “This will work better, for communicating about the statements. You needn’t use it with me, of course, unless signing is also taxing.”

Martin stared up at Jon. There was an entirely new look on his boss’ face. Not any level of scorn or sneer, nor even concern. He was… nervous. Fidgety. Like he was offering a gift that he was afraid might be rejected.

Something went flip in Martin’s stomach and it was like the entire world turned upside down. Suddenly, in light of Jon’s actions in the last 24 hours, he saw the way his boss had acted toward him the last six months for what it was: a defense mechanism. Armor pulled up around someone fragile and soft and sweet, someone so terrified of rejection that he went about making sure it happened preemptively so he wouldn’t be hurt.

Martin had a sudden, fierce desire to hug Jon and tell him everything would be okay. It was so bewildering a sensation--he didn’t even like the man! At all!--that he just took the notebook with a nod and a signed “Thank you,” eyes still very wide.

Jon nodded in return. “You’re welcome.” He let out a breath, and seemed to relax a little. “Well. Then. I think we’ve found the name for this one, given the way Tim’s phone reacted to those words. ‘Strange Music’ it is.” He straightened himself. “Tim, you said something about the organ reminding you of articles you’ve read…?”

Tim nodded, expression suddenly serious. “Yeah. I’ll see if I can find them for you.”

“Right. Well, then, Sasha, if I could ask you to look through the Archive like we talked about? I’m certain we’ve had a statement from Jane Prentiss.” Jon then turned to Martin. “And if you wouldn’t mind helping me with ‘Schwarzwald?’ You used to work in the library, right?”

Martin was still staring at Jon in confusion, but nodded.

Jon actually smiled at him. Faintly. “Well, then, I’m certain you must know where to find the German history reference books, if you could go grab whatever they’ll let you bring down?”

The strangest thing about it was, Jon seemed sincere. Like he actually believed Martin did, indeed, know the library well enough to just… go up there and find the German history reference books. The faint, confident-in-his-assistant smile was a new look, at least directed at Martin; he’d seen Jon look at Tim and Sasha that way many times before.

Martin’s stomach was doing cartwheels. There were butterflies taking up residence in his intestines. His heart was pounding. How had he never noticed how nice Jon’s smile was? Soft and small, like he was afraid to let it actually take up residence on his face for too long.

Oh, God, oh, no. Martin could not fancy his boss. Jon hated him. Or, well, no, evidence suggested that perhaps Jon did not hate him, but Jon most certainly did not fancy him. This crush had to disappear, just as fast as it had come. This would not do.

He was going to be writing poetry again tonight, wasn’t he? Crap.

“Martin?” Jon’s tone was concerned rather than sharp, and the way Jon said his name made Martin want to sink into the floor.

Instead, he scribbled furiously in the notebook and held it up so all three of the others could see: Yeah, sorry, was just thinking about where that’d be. I’ll bring them down as soon as I find them.

Jon practically beamed at Martin’s use of the notebook and he nodded briskly. “Right! I’ll be in my office when you have the books, then.” He started to turn away.

Martin’s heart went pound pound pound because oh wow Jon was really cute when he let that smile take up more of his face. Throwing caution to the wind, he made a noise to get the other man’s attention.

Jon turned around, quirking a brow. “Yes, Martin?”

Martin signed, “Tea?” He, too, raised his eyebrows and tilted his head to indicate the question.

Jon nodded. “Tea would be lovely, yes.” He smiled at Martin for a brief moment, and then suddenly looked flustered. He glared at them all. “Anyway,” he snapped in his ‘boss’ voice, the impact of which was ruined by the flush rising in his cheeks, “there’s still work to be done. So let’s… do it.” And with that, he turned on his heel and left the office.

Had Jon blushed because Martin had offered him tea? Did Jon like his tea that much? Was Martin imagining things? He had to be imagining things. He put his head down on the desk and wrapped his arms over it so he could grab at handfuls of hair. What was happening to him?

Sasha tried to make her voice serious, but couldn't quite manage it past quite clearly holding back giggles. “Mourn for poor Martin, working alone with Jon.” She looked at Tim. “We should call HR preemptively, it’ll be a bloodbath.”

“Nah, I think Jon’s softening on our boy,” Tim said with a laugh. He reached over to ruffle Martin’s hair with one hand while he took his phone back with the other. “Don’t worry, Marto. I told you he’d come around one day.”

Martin looked up at Tim with a stricken, betrayed expression. In the notebook: Is this how you comfort me in my hour of need??

Sasha shook her head. “For once, Tim’s being serious. You weren’t in the room when Jon explained things to us. He’s worried about you, he doesn’t want you to have to leave the Institute alone, he doesn’t want you to have to look for the Prentiss statement in case it’s ‘too traumatic’ for you to run across on your own. He actually asked us if we thought we should avoid any mention of Prentiss altogether in your presence.”

“I told him no,” Tim said. “I hope that was okay. You seem like you’d rather deal with trauma by facing it and figuring it out, rather than avoiding it entirely.”

Matin gaped at them. Really? he wrote. Jon’s… worried about me? Really? As if he hadn’t seen the evidence just now that Jon was, indeed… softening.

Tim gave Martin a very serious look. “I’ve told you before… I’ve known Jon, well, not as long as I’ve known Sasha, but for a long while now. He’s prickly and thorny, even to people he cares about, but that’s a front and I’ve said so. You just didn’t believe me.”

“In Martin’s defense,” Sasha put in, “Jon’s been awfully ‘prickly and thorny’ to him specifically.”

Tim put up a hand. “Oh, I agree. I have had words with our dear boss about the way he treats Martin, largely because I’m one of the few people he might actually listen to.” He looked at Martin. “I don’t want to take the credit, because it’s really been a remarkably fast turnaround, but I’d like to think I helped, a little.”

Martin frowned thoughtfully. Thank you, he wrote. If Jon’s at ‘I can stand Martin’ instead of ‘Martin is the source of all bad that happens in the Archives’ work might be… better than tolerable, for once.

“That’s the spirit!” Tim said with a grin. “Now, then, Jon did say to get back to work…”

Jon gave Martin another of those soft smiles when Martin brought in the tea, a smile which widened on seeing the stack of books he carried in right after. That afternoon, spent sitting and going through books and discussing the Schwarzwald statement, was the first of many they’d spend together, reading and talking and comparing notes.

Martin was feeling verbal again the next morning, but he kept the notebook. If nothing else, it was a good place to jot down poetry. And it came in handy when he found himself unable to speak the morning after Jane Prentiss’ attack on the Archives.

And the morning after Jon confronted him about his CV.

And the morning after Jon disappeared, leaving Jurgen Leitner’s body at his desk. (Martin blamed that on the corridors more than the body, really.)

Funnily enough, he didn’t need it the morning after the Unknowing. But he kept it with him that day all the same, the first gift Jon had ever given him, and one of the few things he had left of him with Jon in a coma.

--------------------------------------------

When they reached Daisy’s safehouse in Scotland, Martin had hoped he’d somehow manage to dodge the threat of going non-verbal. He’d been the one to drive the car, over Jon’s protests; it was something to focus on, to keep him remembering he was alive and real. He’d clutched the wheel and driven north north north with Jon giving directions in the passenger seat.

Martin had finally figured out that it was the chance to stop and think about trauma that led to his being non-verbal, which was why it was almost always a thing that hit in the morning. Adrenaline would keep him running after a stressful event, and then he’d carry himself through the rest of the day trying to clean up whatever mess had been caused. But sleep was enough for his body and brain to both tell him to stop, to process, to deal with whatever he’d run into.

It was possible, in hindsight, that he’d gone non-verbal more than once since the Unknowing and just hadn’t noticed because he’d been barely interacting with anyone. He’d certainly had a bad bout the morning after his mother’s funeral, dealing with so much misgendering and fake smiles. And there had been more than enough trauma to try to process in the past year, so it must have happened before.

He’d just really, really hoped it wouldn’t now, because he didn’t want to put Jon through that. (Why he thought he was putting Jon through anything he didn’t really want to examine. It made him feel Lonely, and that was bad.)

At any rate, the realization of why he went non-verbal had led to him keeping busy in order to hold it off, in order to hold himself together. So he drove, and he puttered about the cabin poking into cupboards, and he talked to Jon, and he talked to the shop lady in the village, and he brought back food and made dinner with Jon, and everything was good and fine.

And then he woke up the next morning, in an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar room, and he could not speak.

There was the smell of bacon and eggs and pancakes cooking, and Martin made his bleary way out into the main room of the cabin and peered at Jon, already up and dressed and cooking.

His boyfriend turned to look at him and smiled, one of those soft smiles Martin had come to love so much. “Sleep well?”

"Not really,” Martin signed. “I mean…” He gestured at his throat.

Jon nodded. “I figured you might feel that way this morning. I, uhh… hold on a moment, I need to….” He grabbed the pan of bacon and moved it off the heat, pulled a pancake off the griddle and deposited it on a plate, then turned off the stove and went to poke around in one of the bags.

Martin chuckled fondly. “What’re you looking for?”

Jon was still digging through his bag. “When I was grabbing essentials at the store, back in London, I was thinking, you’ve been through a lot, and the notebook I gave you before must be full if you even have it anymore. I know you were writing poetry in it, and… oh, here we go.”

Jon came up with another small notebook. This one was not plain and brown, the way the first one he’d gifted Martin all those years ago had been. This one was black, and had silvery stars on its cover that, as Jon held out the book and thus tilted it through the light, shimmered into rainbows.

“Just in case, you know, the shop lady doesn’t know BSL.”

Martin blinked at the notebook.

“It, uhh… I know it’s not your usual style,” Jon said, his voice suddenly nervous. He was looking down at the notebook as he spoke, instead of at Martin. “Not… retro. But… I saw it and I thought of you.” He paused. “That tape, where you were talking to Simon Fairchild. He talked about the ‘cosmic scale,’ and how we’ve never even been alive on that time frame, and you said… what was it? You said, ‘I think our experience of the universe has value. Even if it disappears forever.’ And I just… that was… maybe the most… it was very… you. And there were other options, flowers or cursive writing, o-or… I don’t know, they all seemed so obvious, but this…”

Jon swallowed, and finally looked up at Martin. “I thought, after the Lonely, you might like a reminder that, you have value. That… that to me, you shine as bright as any star.” And then he flushed, and Martin knew it was for him, just as he now knew the flushes about tea all those years ago had also been for him.

Martin was gaping. Oh. Oh. Jon… loved him. Which he’d known, intellectually, but the emotional knowledge of it hit him suddenly, took his breath away. He knew it, all at once, in that “oh we could spend the rest of our lives together” way he’d never really thought he’d ever feel.

Jon had clearly misinterpreted the expression; he started stammering, “I-if… it it’s bad, I can… well, no, I can’t take it back, stupid, I should’ve just grabbed the one that had--”

Martin cut him off by reaching out to take the notebook from Jon and reached out with his other hand to cup the shorter man’s cheek. He smiled, and because he’d realized long ago how well Jon responded to physical touch, he leaned in to plant a soft kiss on his boyfriend’s forehead.

Then he pulled back to put the notebook aside on the counter and signed, “It’s perfect. Thank you.” A pause, and then, “I love you.”

Jon smiled, both speaking and signing, “I love you, too.”

And for once in his life, Martin knew that to be true, and trusted that knowledge. He was loved. He had been loved, and he would be loved for the rest of his life, whatever state his voice was in.