#writing-with-whiplash

[shalom-iamcominghome]

I've been doing a lot of reflection as of late, especially after this past class.

This past class was about the Torah and Tanakh in general, and the way the rabbi talked about the commandments (specifically the ten commandments) has made me really reflect on how I interpret them, specifically the fifth commandment, or honoring your mother and father.

This is a commandment I have wrestled with for a long time - in fact, it brought me away from g-d at multiple times. I was severely abused when I was incredibly young by my mother, and I used to feel insulted at the implication that I were to honor her while she got to live a better life. It was hypocritical, in my eyes.

But this rabbi surmised that this particular commandment was because parenthood is an act of creation, something that is like the g-d from which we come from. My realization is this: I don't think we're necessarily meant to take even these commandments literally.

I this particular commandment is more of a call to honor creation - creation is a gift, and like any gift, many people simply will not like it and will discard it. The person who abused me created me, but she did not honor creation. She didn't honor me, but I can still honor it.

I have started to honor creation much more. I'm too young, too unstable, not mature enough to be a father (though I fantasize about it), but I create all the time. I create relationships, I create with my hands through crochet. I create memories, I create my world. And I can honor who I am and where I came from that made me who I am. I've been learning one of the mother tongues of my family (Italian, since part of my family originates there) and it was judaism that inspired me to do this.

I don't think g-d wants me to honor my abuser. I think He wants me to remember the Holy action of creation. When I am a father, that act of creation will be Holy, and indeed, I am already joyful about the thought.

I have seen many people struggle with this particular commandment, but I think this perspective helps me personally. I don't think I ever have to forgive my abusers (plural), and I don't think I am commanded to simply because they happened to be family. I am commanded to recognize the holy, to elevate the mundane. In doing so, I will remember g-d. Through creation, I honor g-d and everything he has done for us, for me, and for our collective people.

[beabubb]

we found out from recent citizen letters that theres a garden in DEMA with yellow flowers and i got the most devastating revelation

[edains]

Children of Rannoch: Notable Quarians aboard the Rayya

Children of Rannoch - A Quarian Overhaul (LE2)

(template)

[teddybeartoji]

film prof!toji isn't a big fan of people calling him 'sir' because it just doesn't feel right but if it's you who's doing it... oh, he just might re-evaluate his thoughts on that............

[toodrunktofindaurl]

patreon poll winners: emma x regina

[jetii]

Charting A New Course

Pairing: Tech x fem!Reader / Tech x Jedi!Reader

Words: 6,219

Tags/Warnings: fluff, hurt/comfort, kissing and cuddling, Tech being a cutie bc that’s mandatory

Summary: You and Tech adjust to your new life together, and to your new home on Pabu.

A/N: For Anne @baddest-batchers 💙 Ily and thank you so much for the inspo, your continuous support, and for being such a light in this fandom!! This is set 2-3 months after the first two installments in the Tech x Sarad series(?). Chronologically it’s part 4 since there will be another (nsfw) part out next week.

Previous Work | Next Work | Masterlist

It's strange for Tech to feel out of his depth, but the truth is, he is.

He's never been good at understanding people. Their thoughts, their actions, their feelings...they're a mystery to him. He's spent years trying to solve the puzzle, but there are too many pieces missing. Too many variables, too many unknowns.

He's given up, mostly. Decided that, sometimes, there are just things that are better left alone.

But, now, he has to try again. Because it's different. He's different.

And Sarad...

Well, Sarad is the biggest puzzle of them all.

You're the most intriguing, most confounding, most wonderful thing he's ever encountered. And he wants nothing more than to solve you. To unlock the mysteries of your heart, and to find out why you do the things you do. Why you stay.

Why you love him.

He knows, logically, that there are no simple answers. That, like the universe, your motivations are vast and complicated, and that they can't be distilled down to a single line of code. But, still, he wonders. He wonders, and he questions, and he hopes. He hopes, with a fierce desperation that surprises even him, that you'll never leave.

But, sometimes, he can't help but worry that, eventually, you will. That, one day, you'll realize that you're better off without him. That you'll grow tired of him, or bored, or frustrated, or simply change your mind. That you'll decide that the life he can offer you isn't enough. That the stars aren't worth it.

He worries, but he doesn't say anything. He's learned, through countless cycles, that the best way to solve a problem is to approach it objectively. That, sometimes, the answers aren't as clear as they seem.

So, instead, he does what he does best.

He observes.

Tech studies you, and watches you, and tries to understand. And, over time, he learns. He learns your habits, your likes and dislikes, your favorite foods and the songs you hum when you think no one's listening. He learns what makes you laugh, and what makes you angry, and what makes your eyes light up with joy. The things he never noticed, or never paid attention to, or never thought to ask about. He learns them all.

And, slowly, he begins to feel more comfortable around you. More secure.

Because, no matter how confusing you may be, you're always consistent.

You're quiet, and calm, and patient. You listen, and you watch, and you observe, just as much as he does. You understand him in a way that no one else does, and you never judge him for his oddities. You seem to appreciate them more than anything. And, sometimes, he finds himself doing things just because he knows you'll find them amusing. More so lately than ever.

He finds it curious, and slightly alarming, that he's beginning to change. That his habits are shifting, and his priorities are rearranging, and that his feelings are becoming clearer.

But, most of all, he finds it intriguing.

Because, now, when you smile, or laugh, or brush a strand of hair out of his face, he doesn't look away. He doesn't shy away from your touch, or avert his gaze. He holds it. And, when he does, his pulse quickens, and his cheeks flush, and his lips twitch upwards, almost without him noticing. He doesn't understand why, but it's become a habit, and one he doesn't mind indulging in.

You seem to notice the change, and you seem delighted by it. But, rather than question him about it, or draw attention to it, you simply smile. A small, knowing smile. One that's both pleased and mischievous, and one that makes his heart stutter.

You're smiling at him like that now. Tech knows he's been caught staring, and while it would normally annoy him, this time, he finds that he doesn't mind. In fact, he quite enjoys it.

He smiles back, a small twitch of his lips, and feels his heart beat a little faster. You're radiant, and beautiful, and his. You're his. And, somehow, the idea doesn't frighten him as much as it used to.

"What are you thinking about?" you ask, tilting your head slightly.

"You," he replies, his voice soft.

Your smile widens, and you lean in, pressing a kiss to his cheek. You reach in front of him, using your hand to push the last of the vegetables from your cutting board into the stew for him. He's been making an attempt to learn how to cook, and he's been finding it a useful distraction from his racing thoughts. Still, though, his focus isn't on the food. It's on you. Always on you.

"Any specific thoughts, or just general observations?"

"General, mostly," he replies, watching you as he stirs the mixture. "You seem happy."

"I am," you reply. "It's a good day."

"How can you tell?”

It's not a challenge. He's genuinely curious. You're always so calm, and serene, and at peace with the universe, and he's still trying to figure out how you manage it. He knows that part of it is the Force, and your connection to it, but there's more to it than that. There has to be.

"Hmmm..." You glance up at the ceiling, as if the answer is written on the wood. "It's hard to explain. I guess...I just feel it."

"That's not very scientific," he says, his lips twitching upwards. "Do you have any evidence to back up your claim?"

"None that you would accept," you chuckle. "But, I can tell. Just like you can tell when a storm is coming, or a plant needs more water. It's a feeling. An intuition."

"I see," he murmurs, his eyes drifting towards the window. It's overcast, and the wind is picking up, and the air is heavy with the scent of rain. It's the kind of day that usually has him retreating into his bunk, or burrowing into his work. The kind of day where he seeks out comfort and shelter and warmth.

"Don't worry," you say as if reading his thoughts. "We have a few hours before it starts. And the greenhouse should hold up. I reinforced the roof and walls yesterday."

"I didn't realize," he says, surprised, and he turns back to you. "I must have been distracted."

"It's alright," you assure him. "I know you were busy."

"With what?"

"Whatever was going on in that brilliant mind of yours," you say with a grin. You nudge him gently with your hip, and he feels his cheeks flush. "I didn't want to interrupt. You were so focused on whatever you were working on."

"I apologize," he murmurs. "I shouldn't have—"

"It's fine," you interrupt, placing a hand on his arm. "I know you get lost in your thoughts sometimes. It's nothing to apologize for. Besides, you needed the quiet."

He smiles at that. You always seem to know when he needs space. When his mind is too full, and his thoughts are too loud, and the only way to escape them is to lose himself in work. You've become an expert at reading his moods, and at taking care of him. And, even though it took him a while to adjust and accept it, he finds that he doesn't mind.

"Thank you," he says, his voice sincere. "You're always so thoughtful."

"Of course," you murmur, and your gaze drifts back towards the window.

He follows it, and his eyes settle on the clouds that are starting to gather on the horizon. The sky is a dark gray, and the air is cold and damp, and there's a faint rumble of thunder in the distance.

"I'd do anything for you, Tech.”

Tech pauses, his spoon hovering over the pot. The words are soft, and sincere, and they send a shiver down his spine. Because he knows you mean them. He knows, in his heart, that you'd never lie to him. Not about something like this. 

He's not sure how to respond, but he doesn't have to, because you're already continuing.

"I like seeing you like this," you say, a smile tugging at your lips. You turn away from the window, your eyes meeting his. "At peace. Happy."

"I like being like this," he replies. He lets the spoon rest against the rim of the pot and reaches out to take your hand. Your fingers interlace, and he marvels at how perfectly they fit together. At how easy it is, now, to express his affection. It's still not second nature, but it's not as difficult as it used to be. Not with you. "With you."

"You're different, lately," you note. "More...relaxed. I like it."

"Is that so?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes," you laugh. "It's nice."

"I suppose I have you to thank for that," he murmurs, his thumb rubbing absent-minded circles on your skin. "You've had quite the influence on me."

"Is that a good thing?"

"It is," he says, and the certainty in his voice surprises him. He doesn't question it, though. "I'm trying to learn how to let go. To be content with the here and now, and to not always be thinking about the future."

"Well, you're doing a good job," you praise, and your smile is brighter than the sun. "I'm proud of you."

"You are?"

"Yes," you say. "You're learning, evolving. Like a flower opening to the light."

Tech huffs a laugh. "That's an...unusual metaphor."

"But a fitting one," you point out, leaning into him.

"Perhaps," he admits. "Although if I were a plant, I would hope to be something more interesting than a flower."

"Like what?"

"Something useful," he muses. "A tomato, perhaps."

You laugh, loud and bright, and the sound makes his chest swell. He loves your laugh. It's warm, and full, and contagious. It fills him with a strange kind of joy, and he feels his lips twitch upwards.

"Only you would want to be a vegetable," you say, shaking your head in amusement.

"A tomato is a fruit," he corrects quickly. Both because he’s unable to resist, and because he knows you don’t mind and that he’ll find your response amusing.

"Oh, of course," you say with an exaggerated eye-roll. He smiles. "My apologies. A fruit, then."

"You are forgiven," he replies, a teasing lilt to his voice.

Tech leans over and presses a kiss to your temple. He's not sure why, but the urge strikes him, and he doesn't resist. He's learned by now that there are some impulses he should listen to. Especially when they involve you. Especially when it means he can feel your warmth, and the smoothness of your skin, and the way your breath hitches at the contact.

You tilt your head to look at him, and he sees the emotions flicker across your face. Surprise, and delight, and affection. You're always so expressive, and open, and his smile widens.

"What was that for?" you ask, raising an eyebrow.

"No reason," he murmurs. "Just...happy."

You grin and lean in, brushing your nose against his.

"Love you," you whisper.

"And I, you," he replies, his fingers reaching up to tangle in your hair. He brings you closer and kisses you, dipping his head and tilting to capture your lips just right. It's slow, and gentle, and perfect, and he's amazed, once again, at how natural it is. He doesn't know how he managed to live so long without this.

He doesn't know how he can ever again live without it.

“They’re going to be here soon,” you murmur against his lips, a note of amusement in your voice.

Tech hums in acknowledgement, but doesn't stop kissing you. He knows he should, but he can't bring himself to pull away. He wants to savor the moment. To memorize every detail, and burn the memory into his mind. You're perfect, and he's not ready to let go. Not yet.

You smile against his lips, and his grip tightens, pulling you closer in a way that makes you let out a breathy laugh. Your hands are on his arms, and your fingers are tracing lazy patterns on his skin as your mouth opens to him.

He can't help but feel a sense of smug satisfaction at the fact that he's the one making you laugh. That he's the one causing the blush that's spreading across your cheeks. That he's the one drawing these reactions from you.

He wants to draw more. Wants to see you smile, and hear you laugh, and watch your eyes light up with joy. He wants to keep doing this, over and over again. Until the stars die, and the galaxies collapse, and the universe falls apart around him. 

He wants to do this, and so much more, and it's a realization that makes his head spin.

He can't imagine his life without you. Without the sound of your laughter, and the feel of your hands, and the warmth of your body pressed against his. He can't imagine his life without the simple domesticity, and the quiet moments, and the uncomplicated love that comes from simply being.

He can't imagine his life without this feeling. Without this certainty. This happiness. And he's suddenly overcome with a desire to do everything he can to hold on to it. To do everything he can to make sure that it never fades.

"Tech..." you gasp, your fingers digging into his shirt.

He pulls away, his chest heaving, and looks at you. You're flushed and breathless, and his gaze drifts down to your lips, pink and slightly swollen from his kisses. He can't help himself. He leans in and kisses you again, a soft, chaste press of his lips to yours.

"They're really going to be here soon," you breathe, your forehead resting against his.

"I know," he sighs. He takes a deep breath and forces himself to pull away. "I should finish preparing dinner."

You nod, a slight frown on your face. Tech knows it's because you want him to keep kissing you, but you're also a stickler for punctuality, and you don't like making people wait. He doesn't either, but he finds that, when it comes to you, he's more than willing to break the rules. Just a little.

"I'll set the table," you offer as you step away. "And I need to get the dessert from the icebox. Do we have any honey left?"

"You made dessert?" he asks, unable to hide the excitement in his voice.

You'd taken to baking lately, and he'd found himself quite enjoying the results. Wrecker especially had developed a taste for your creations, and he was constantly begging you to make him more. Tech didn't mind. He was just happy to see you happy. And, if he was being honest, he didn't mind the extra sweets.

"Yes," you reply. "And before you ask, it's not a cake."

"A shame," he teases. "I was rather hoping for another one."

"You just want more frosting," you laugh. You point a finger at him, the corner of your mouth quirked up. "Don't think I haven't noticed."

"I'm not sure what you're referring to," he says innocently. He smirks as he turns back to the pot, stirring the mixture. "But if I were, I would admit nothing."

"Sure," you chuckle, rolling your eyes. You move away from him, grabbing the plates from the counter, and start arranging them on the table. The sound is comforting, familiar. He's gotten used to this. To the easy rhythm, the simple domesticity, the quiet moments. He never thought he would. Never thought he could. But, with you, he can.

"I think we have enough honey," he calls over his shoulder. "I bought some last time I went to the market. It's in the pantry."

"Thanks," you shout back. "I'll grab it after I finish setting the table."

He listens as you work, the sounds of your movements soothing. You move about the kitchen, opening and closing cabinets, retrieving the dishes and cutlery, arranging everything just so. He's learned by now not to interfere. You have a particular method, and a routine, and he's learned that it's better not to interrupt.

Instead, he adds a few finishing touches to the stew. Some more herbs, a dash of seasoning, a bit of extra salt. He stirs, and tastes, and nods, satisfied. It's good. Better than the first few times, at least. He's pleased with the results, and he hopes that the others will enjoy the meal as much as you always seem to.

"It smells wonderful," you say as you appear beside him. "It'll be nice to have the whole family over. I haven’t seen Echo since…” Your voice trails off, and you shake your head. “Well, not for a while."

"I know," Tech says, his voice soft. He knows that, while the time you spent apart from the others was hard on him, it was harder on you. He had lost his brothers, but you had lost everything. The family you had made, the friends you had known. All gone. You had never even said goodbye.

He's grateful that you've all been able to come together again, in a way. That you're not alone, and neither is he.

"I'm glad they're all okay," you say. "And I'm glad they have a place where they can finally be safe. Where we can all be safe."

"It's a good place," Tech agrees. Pabu is small and remote, and it's far removed from the dangers of the galaxy. They don't have the resources of Coruscant, or the defenses of Kamino, but they're content. They're safe. They're free.

You pause, tilting your head, and he can tell you're listening. He can't hear anything, but he knows you can. He knows you can sense them. It's still strange, after all this time, but it's becoming less so. Less unsettling. More...natural.

"They're here," you announce, a slight smile on your face. "Are you ready?"

"Yes," he replies as his fingers slip into yours. "Let's go greet our guests."

The door opens, and the sounds of laughter drift in, followed by a gust of cool air. Omega's the first to step through, and she rushes towards you, practically tackling you in a hug. The others file in, greeting Tech and giving you warm embraces, and soon, the small house is filled with familiar voices.

Wrecker claps Tech on the shoulder, nearly knocking him over on his way to the kitchen. Hunter offers him a quiet smile and a nod. Crosshair gives him a look that's equal parts sarcastic and fond, and Echo pulls him into a one-armed hug.

"It's good to see you," Echo says, his gaze drifting to you. He gives you a nod and a questioning look, and you dip your head in return. "Both of you."

"Likewise," Tech says, the corner of his mouth tugging into a small smile.

"The food smells great," Hunter remarks.

"I'll put some extra spice in it for you," Crosshair drawls, nudging Tech out of the way and moving towards the kitchen, where Wrecker is already sampling the food.

"Please, don't," Echo groans as he follows him.

The others settle in, spreading out across the room, and the atmosphere quickly becomes comfortable and familiar. Tech watches as they banter, and joke, and bicker, and a small part of him misses the days when it was just the five of them. But, it's a small part, and an insignificant one. Because, while those days were good, these ones are better. Because you're here. And, because he's finally allowed to have you. To love you.

You catch his eye and give him a warm smile, and he can't help but return it.

Yes, things are better, now. Much, much better.

The first thing Tech notices when he awakes is the smell of rain. It’s faint, but it’s there, and he rolls over, breathing deeply. The rain on Pabu is different than Kamino's, softer, and earthier, and he’s come to enjoy it. He cracks open an eye, taking in the sight of the droplets trickling down the darkened window.

The second thing he notices is the absence of you.

Tech's eyes snap open, and his gaze immediately seems out your form, but the bed is empty, and his heart leaps into his throat. He reaches out, his hands brushing against the cold sheets, and he swallows thickly, forcing himself to take a deep breath. He’s being irrational, and his mind is playing tricks on him. You are here. You’re safe. You’re home.

He rises from the bed and crosses the room, his bare feet sinking into the plush rug that you had insisted on purchasing for your new home together. Tech is still not convinced of its practicality, but the way it feels beneath his feet is pleasant, so he never protested. And, judging by the number of times he had caught you walking across it barefoot, pacing in circles as you typed away on your datapad, you seem to enjoy it as well.

Tech smiles slightly at the memory and opens the door, stepping into the hallway. The house is dark, save for a small lamp that's glowing softly in the living room. He pads down the hall and comes to a stop when he reaches the threshold. 

You’re sitting in the center of the floor, the soft glow of the light illuminating your features. Your legs are crossed underneath you, and your head is bowed as if in prayer. He can see your shoulders rise and fall with each breath, and the quiet tension that seems to constantly radiate from you has lessened somewhat. But there is still a weariness in the way you held yourself, a weight that has not yet been lifted.

Tech stands in the doorway for a moment, simply watching you. The sight of you meditating is not an unfamiliar one, and neither is the way his heart fluttered when he sees you. But the intensity of his feelings still takes him by surprise. He can only imagine what it would be like in the future. He doesn’t think it will ever stop, this overwhelming love he felt for you.

"Are you going to stand there all night, or are you going to join me?"

Tech starts slightly, his heart jumping at the sound of your voice. You turn to look at him, a small smile playing across your lips, and he can’t help but return it.

"I wasn't sure if I was allowed," he says quietly. He crosses the room, grabbing a blanket from the couch as he did so. You watch him, your expression softening as he carefully arranges the blanket around your shoulders before settling down next to you.

"Of course you're allowed," you murmur, shifting closer to him. "This is your home, too."

"I know," he says. "I was merely giving you some space. I did not wish to intrude."

You shake your head and let out a soft sigh. "Tech, I appreciate the sentiment, but I've had plenty of space. More than enough."

He hesitates for a moment, searching your expression. You seem calm, and the usual tension that lines your features had faded, but he’s still unsure. He had not wanted to push you, to ask for anything more than you were willing to give. And, though you had been open and welcoming with him in the months since your return, he’s still unsure how to act. He doesn’t quite know the boundaries, and he’s still afraid of crossing them, of hurting you.

"You don't have to worry, Tech," you say softly, as if sensing his thoughts. Perhaps you did. He would not be surprised. Your abilities were impressive, even by his standards. "I'm okay. I promise."

"Are you?" he asks, the question slipping from his mouth before he could stop it.

You pause, your brows drawing together. Tech holds his breath, waiting.

"Yes," you finally say, your voice firm. "I'm alright."

"Okay," he says.

You sigh and shake your head. "You're not going to believe me, are you?"

"I believe that you are trying to convince yourself," he replies gently. "But I also know that it is not as easy as just deciding that everything is okay."

"Tech—"

"Please, let me finish," he interrupts, holding up a hand.

You bite your lip, but remain silent, waiting.

"I know that it will take time," he says, his gaze falling to his hands. "And I know that there are some things that will never fully heal. But, if you are willing, I would like to be there for you. To help you in any way that I can."

He glances at you, and he finds you staring at him, your expression unreadable.

"Tech," you say quietly. "I know what you're doing."

"What?" he asks, surprised. "What do you mean?"

"You're trying to take care of me," you say, a wry smile tugging at your lips.

"Is that so terrible?" he mutters. His brows furrow as he studies your face, trying to understand your reaction.

"No," you reply. Your voice is soft and reassuring, but he can tell by the way you wring your hands that it’s more than that. "It's not. But I can take care of myself. I've been doing it for a while now. Long before you showed up."

"I know," he murmurs. "But you don't have to anymore. I am here now. And I will not leave you. I promise."

Your smile softens, and you lean against him, resting your head on his shoulder. He shifts, wrapping an arm around you, and his hand settles on your waist, his fingers stroking lightly over the fabric of your shirt. His shirt, actually. The one that he had lent you last week, and had yet to get back. Not that he minds. Seeing you in his clothes is more satisfying than he would have thought.

"I want to help," he says softly, his gaze fixed on the rain streaking down the window. "But only if you let me."

You don’t respond, and for a moment, he thinks that maybe he had said something wrong. Maybe he had overstepped. Maybe you weren't ready. But then you let out a breath, a long, shaky exhale, and he feels your body relax against him.

"I'm sorry," you whisper.

"For what?" he asks gently.

"For making you worry," you say, your voice thick with emotion. "I just...I didn't want to bother you. I didn't want to be a burden."

"You are not a burden, Sarad," he replies. "You never have been, and you never will be."

"Thank you," you murmur, nestling closer to him. He holds you, letting his hand drift up and down your arm, feeling the tension begin to leave your body. It’s a familiar motion, one that has become habitual, and it soothes both of you. He can feel his own anxiety fading, and his mind grows clearer, his thoughts less jumbled. The simple contact, the feeling of your presence next to him, is grounding.

"I missed you," you say after a while. "So much."

"I missed you, too," he murmurs.

"When I was on Nar Shaddaa, all I could think about was how much I wanted to go home," you continue, your voice barely audible. "Not the place, just...the feeling. Of being with you."

He tightens his grip on you, his arm around your waist pulling you closer.

"But now that I'm here and things have settled down, it's hard," you say. "With the Order, I had a purpose. A reason to keep going. And now, it's like I've lost my anchor."

Tech nods, his chin bumping against the top of your head. "I understand. After the war ended, and we defected from the Empire, the rest of the squad and I felt similarly. We had always had a sense of direction, but once the fight was over, it was difficult to find a new one."

"Yes," you breathe. "Exactly."

"But we found it," he says, his hand squeezing your shoulder. "Together."

You turn your face, burying it in the crook of his neck, and he feels a rush of warmth spread through him. The feeling of your breath on his skin is comforting, and he closes his eyes, letting his head fall against yours.

"We will find your new purpose," he says, his voice low and soft. "It will take time, but we will. And, in the meantime, we will have each other."

You hum in agreement, your hand slipping into his and giving it a gentle squeeze. "I love you."

"I love you, too," he says, his lips pressing a kiss against your forehead.

"Do you think we'll ever feel normal again?"

He thinks for a moment before speaking, not wanting to upset you further, but he can’t find any answer that isn’t the truth.

"No," he finally says. "I don't believe so. Not truly."

You let out a breath, and Tech can hear the disappointment in it. He turns his head, letting his cheek rest on top of your head.

"That's what I thought," you sigh sadly. You move to pull away, but he holds firm.

"But, normal is subjective," he continues, his hand running up and down your arm. "And we have never been normal, so I do not think we have much to worry about."

"I guess," you reply. "It's just hard, sometimes. Being here. Trying to fit in. Especially when I have no idea what I'm supposed to do next."

"Neither do I," he says honestly. "But I have faith that we will figure it out."

You huff a sound halfway between a laugh and a sob. "When did you get so optimistic?"

"I learned from the best," he replies, a smile tugging at his lips. You pull from his embrace, and he feels a brief moment of panic before he sees the amusement shining in your eyes through the tears.

"I'm hardly the best," you chuckle.

"In my opinion, you are," he says firmly.

"Well, your opinion is biased."

"It is an opinion based on fact," he counters, raising an eyebrow as he turns his head toward you. You snort, rolling your eyes, but the smile remains on your lips.

You push yourself up onto your knees, and you lean forward, brushing a kiss against his lips. It’s brief, but it leaves him reeling. When you pull back, your cheeks are flushed, and he feels a surge of affection for you.

"Thank you," you say softly, your eyes meeting his. There’s a warmth in your gaze, a vulnerability that he had rarely seen, and he finds himself leaning forward, wanting to be closer to you again. "For everything. For being here, and for listening. And for just...being you."

He smiles, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. "Always."

You press a kiss against his palm, and his heart swells, his chest feeling lighter than it had in weeks. He’s struck once more by how lucky he is to have you back in his life. After everything he had gone through, after everything you had endured, it seemed impossible. But, somehow, the universe had brought you together once more. And, despite everything that had happened, he has no doubt that, together, you can face whatever the future held.

"Come on," you say, standing and extending a hand. "Let's go to bed."

Tech lets you pull him up, and his arms wrap around your waist, holding you close. You tilt your head, gazing up at him, and his breath catches in his throat. There’s no fear, no anxiety, no doubt. Only peace, and happiness, and love.

"Sarad..."

"Yes?"

He leans down, his lips finding yours. It’s a gentle, tender kiss, but it’s enough to make his pulse quicken. You melt into him, your hands sliding up his chest and tangling in his hair. He pulls you closer, his fingers gripping the fabric of your shirt. You tug him down, deepening the kiss, and he can’t help but sigh. It feels so right, and it’s so easy to lose himself in the sensation, to forget about everything else.

When you finally break apart, the two of you are breathing heavily, and your foreheads are pressed together.

"That was nice," you murmur, a small grin tugging at the corner of your lips.

"Indeed," Tech agrees.

You lean up on your toes, brushing a kiss against his cheek, and his grip tightens on you, keeping you close.

"So," you say, your voice low and soft. "Bed?"

"Yes," he whispers.

Your hand finds his, and your fingers lace together as you lead him out of the room, the blanket trailing behind you. He follows you down the hall, through the doorway, and into the bedroom, his eyes never leaving you.

The door closes behind you, and Tech lets out a sigh, his shoulders slumping as the last of the tension seeps from his body. The house is quiet and still, save for the faint sound of rain trickling down the roof. The darkness envelops the two of you, but he’s content to simply bask in your presence.

"You're quiet tonight," you observe as you make your way to the bed.

"I have a lot on my mind," he admits, following you.

"Anything you want to talk about?" you ask, settling onto the mattress.

He hesitates for a moment, unsure of how to answer. The words are on the tip of his tongue, the ones that had been there for a while, but he doesn’t know how to say them. Doesn’t know if you were ready. And he doesn’t want to pressure you, not when so much is already uncertain.

"No," he says, joining you. "I'm alright."

"Okay," you murmur, curling into his side. He wraps an arm around you, his hand splayed across your back, and he lets out a long, slow breath. He can feel your heart beating, strong and steady, and he matches his breathing to the rhythm.

"I'm sorry," you whisper, your voice thick with emotion. "I know this can't be easy for you."

"No," he agrees. "It isn't."

"But it's worth it," he adds. "Every moment with you is worth it."

You bury your face in the crook of his neck, hiding your tears, and he tightens his hold on you, pulling you close. Your breath is hot against his skin, and he feels your tears dampen his shirt, but he doesn’t mind. His hand drifts up and down your back, a soothing motion that he hopes is helping.

"I love you," you mumble into his chest.

"I love you, too," he replies, placing a kiss on the top of your head.

"I wish I could take away your pain," you say quietly.

"You already have," he assures you.

"What do you mean?"

"Being here, with you, is the closest thing to happiness I've known," he explains. "I would endure any pain, suffer any hardship, to have this."

You’re silent for a moment, and he can feel your heartbeat quicken.

"Really?" you ask, your voice small and vulnerable.

"Yes," he replies firmly.

You look up at him, your gaze searching, and he meets it unflinchingly. He wants you to see the truth, the sincerity, the depth of his emotions. Because it’s true. Because, despite everything, you are still the center of his universe.

"You know, Tech," you begin, a small smile tugging at your lips. "This might be the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me."

"I’m pleased to hear it," he says as a matching smile stretched across his face. “I will note the time and date.”

You chuckle, shaking your head. "I don't know what I would do without you."

"Hopefully, you will never have to find out," he says earnestly.

"Yeah," you sigh. You settle against him once more, your head on his chest. "Hopefully."

He holds you, his arms encircling you, and he can feel your body relaxing, your muscles loosening. Your breathing is evening out, and he can tell that you were falling asleep. It’s been a long day, and a difficult night, and you need the rest. He wants nothing more than to give it to you.

"The rain," you murmur, your voice barely audible. "Reminds me of Kamino."

"It does," he agrees, his own eyes starting to grow heavy.

"I missed it.”

"Me too.”

You shift, moving closer, and his hands instinctively come up to hold you. He’s tired, but he doesn’t want to sleep, didn't want to miss a single moment with you. But his body is betraying him, and his mind is growing fuzzy. The exhaustion is too much, and his eyes slip closed, the darkness enveloping him.

He feels the blankets shift as you curl into him, and your breath is warm on his neck, a comforting sensation. You’re close, and real, and solid. You’re here, and that was all that mattered. He would give anything, would do anything, to keep you here, with him. To keep you safe.

And, with that thought in mind, Tech surrenders himself to sleep, knowing that, when he awoke, you would be there.

Taglist: @baddest-batchers @covert1ntrovert @stellarbit @bruh-myguy-what @qvnthesia

@spicy-clones @kindalonleystars @cw80831 @totallyunidentified @heidnspeak

@lovelytech9902 @frozenreptile @chocolatewastelandtriumph @etod @puppetscenario

@umekohiganbana @resistantecho @dindjarins1ut @tech-aficionado @aynavaano

@burningnerdchild @ihatesaaand @lolwey @hobbititties @mere-bear

@thegreatpipster @lordofthenerds97 @tentakelspektakel @notslaybabes @mali-777

@schrodingersraven @megmegalodondon @dangraccoon @dreamie411 @sukithebean

@bimboshaggy @anything-forourmoony @9902sgirl @jedi-dreea @salaminus

@ghostymarni @gottalovehistory @burningnerdchild @yoitsjay @callsign-denmark

@julli-bee @sonicrainbooms @captn-trex @feral-ferrule @webslinger-holland

@marchingviolist @deerspringdreams @chaicilatte @somewhere-on-kamino

@silly-starfish @floofyroro

[mybruisedankleneedsakiss]

about failure and success and the monstrous vacuum in between

Mieko Kawakami, Breasts and Eggs // Whisper of the Heart 1995, dir. Yoshifumi Kondō // please, please, please let me get what I want by The Smiths // White Nights by Fyodor Dostoevsky // Whiplash 2014 dir. Damien Chazelle // Mieko Kawakami, All the lovers in the Nights // Frances Ha 2012 dir. Noah Baumbach // Erin Morgenstern, The Starless Sea // Steve Jobs 2015 dir. Danny Boyle // Shoko's Smile by Choi Eun-young // Shoko's Smile by Choi Eun-young // Shiva Baby 2020 dir. Emma Seligman // Letters to a Young Poet by Rainer Maria Rilke // Evening Wind, Edward Hopper // Ocean Vuong, Time Is a Mother// Dead Poets Society (1989) dir. Peter Weir // Educated, Tara Westover

[starberry-cupcake]

I'm nobody and my opinion is nothing but there's a thesis somewhere in there about the mainstream coexistence of

1) how insanely homophobic media outlet arguments on social media got when jon kent and tim drake came out canonically as bi, how major media adaptations of both superman and batman (most notably nolan and snyder stuff) have settled a superficial, bland and boring form of masculinity, devoid of any nuances from canon to try to be as "heteronormatively manly" as humanly possible (probably as a response to the camp in the joel schumacher movies that they couldn't handle)

VS

2) the fact that the commercialization of pride has become so automatic as a business strategy that none of this matters to six flags, who is is outright selling pride pins of both superman and batman in their parks next to their superman and batman roller coasters

[underdark-dreams]

[nexadarling]

Big fan of fanfiction. Shit's wild, one moment you're reading about the most unhinged crack plot and/or unspeakable smut, then the author will hit you with a dissertation about how gods are just as humanly flawed or a heartstopping line like "eternity ends with you"

And then back to the egregious fucking without pause. What an art form.

[uhhlifeig]

Spooky - October 25 - word count: 490 - @wolfstarmicrofic

Remus strolled down their quiet London street, walking Padfoot. Or rather, a “ghost” Padfoot. 

The dog was draped in a white bedsheet, complete with lopsided eye holes Sirius had proudly cut himself. 

The “spookiest dog in London,” the older man had declared. The werewolf snorted just thinking about it.

As they walked, Padfoot swayed with every step, the sheet flapping dramatically in the evening breeze. 

A couple of neighbors stopped and stared, while others tried (and failed) to hold back their laughter.

“Is that… Remus, is that your dog under there?” Mrs. Billings from next door called out, squinting at them.

“Yes,” he replied, feigning exasperation. “He’s very into Halloween, apparently.”

Padfoot barked loudly in agreement, strutting around proudly, the sheet rustling as he strutted along with an exaggerated wiggle of his tail.

A group of small kids on the corner pointed, wide-eyed. “It’s a ghost dog!” one gasped.

Padfoot lifted his head and let out an enthusiastic howl, the sound muffled and hilariously dramatic under the sheet. 

The children squealed and clapped, and one of them came over and gave “Ghost Dog” a quick pat on the head before running back to his friends, shrieking, “I touched a real ghost!”

“Enjoying the attention, are we?” Remus murmured to the dog animagus, who responded with a proud little yip, as if to say, Of course.

Just then, Padfoot attempted to hop up on a bench, attempting to dramatically perch- but his paws slipped on the fabric, and the sheet fell. He scrambled, tail wagging furiously as he tried to get free.

Remus couldn’t hold back his laughter as he bent down, helping untangle his dramatic “ghost.” “Come on, Scary Dog, before you hurt yourself.”

Padfoot barked again, giving his most dignified shake before trotting onward, head held high as if the mishap had never happened. They continued down the street, gathering chuckles, waves, and even a few phone photos as Padfoot continued his ghostly strut through London.

By the time they turned toward home, Padfoot was still proudly wearing his “costume,” though it was now askew, draped over him like a toga.

As soon as they stepped into their flat and closed the door, Sirius transformed back, still tangled in the sheet and grinning like a maniac. “Did you see their faces? I’m a legend!”

The younger man smirked, crossing his arms. “You’re a menace, that’s what you are. We’re probably going viral by now.”

Sirius threw the sheet dramatically over his head, leaning in with wide eyes. “OoOoo, beware, Remus Lupin, I’ll haunt you foreeeever…”

The dirty-blonde man laughed, rolling his eyes as the noiret did his ghost impression. “You’ve been haunting me for years already. You think I’m scared now?”

Sirius grinned. “Just you wait. I’m the ghost with the most!”

Remus chuckled, reaching out to ruffle Sirius’s hair, walking into the kitchen. “Alright, Casper, let’s get you some tea. Your ‘haunting’ has probably terrified the whole neighborhood.”

[sheawritesstuff]

Today is my birthday so,,

Redacted Birthday Headcanons

✩ Sam has never had an actual birthday party and he intends to keep it that way - very few people even know when his birthday is. He prefers spending the day with Darlin and maybe going to dinner with Vincent rather than doing anything big.

✩ Asher has a shirt that literally just says “This Is My Birthday Shirt” that he wears on his birthday every year without fail.

✩ Aaron doesn't like birthday cake so he's gotten a cheesecake every year since he was about 15. Elliott used to make it for him, then he would just buy his own, and now Smartass makes them.

✩ Geordi likes baking and decorating his own cakes so it can be exactly how he wants. Cutie tried to help once, but he got overwhelmed and took over halfway through.

✩ Elliott always cries on his birthday. He doesn't even know why most of the time, it just happens.

✩ Ollie has a movie marathon with his friends to celebrate. They use it as an excuse to eat as much junk food as they want and ruin their sleep schedules - it's been a tradition since college.

✩ David has a small gathering with Asher, Milo, and all of their mates. Angel tries to make it a surprise party, but they always end up spilling the details. Davey pretends to be surprised anyway, just to appease them.

✩ Marie insists on making Milo's favorite dinner and sends him home with enough leftovers to last the rest of the week. He acts annoyed but really appreciates how much she does for him.

✩ Damien would rather treat his birthday like every other day of the year, but the D.A.M.N. crew always gets together to do something for him. Huxley lets him backseat plan to take away some of the stress of the whole ordeal.

✩ Huxley's moms send his presents a week early then video call him on the actual day to make sure he got it and to watch him open them. They also sing to him over the phone.

✩ Even though his coalescence day is technically his birthday, Gavin picked a different day to celebrate based on which zodiac birth chart he likes the most.

✩ Anton tries really hard to call My Love on his birthday. But if he can't, he holds the little plant and just hopes they can feel that he's thinking about them.

✩ Marcus spends his birthday flirting with AI bots on sketchy websites. The more viruses he gets the better.

✩ Lasko usually just buys his own birthday presents because gifts from his family were never just gifts, they were an expectation that something would be given in return. He's still learning to accept gifts without feeling guilty.

✩ Guy tries convincing Honey to give him birthday spanks every year. Sometimes he gets what he asks for, sometimes he settles for birthday kisses.

[ratatatastic]

"Is [Barkov] a normal dude? Meaning like—is he just like, you're having a cheeseburger some day and he's like 'Oh, no, no, no! I need this, I need the superfoods,' like is he kind-of... is he a normal guy?" "'Is that Wagyu or no?'" "'I need, you know, the best of the best,' Like how is he?" "He's undercover really funny, especially when you get to know him. I don't think he said much for the first 3 to 5 years. But I always joke with him I've never been invited to his house and we've played together for 10 years." "Dude, Brandon Montour said the same thing! We had him on last year! He's like, 'Dude, he's never had us over! We're always like—' But he doesn't live by all you guys, right? He kind-of lives a little further out?" "Yeah, he lives 20-30 minutes away in Boca [Raton.] But, yeah, no I—Listen, it's just his personality. It's who he is, and we respect him for it. Like I said, he's a really funny guy when you get to know him, and sometimes he's got those one-liners. And, you know, he's one of those perfect humans, right? You know, one of the guys we all strive to be, and we'll all come short forever, but—yeah, he's a good person."

The Cam & Strick Podcast | 7.30.24 (x)

i hope this bit never ends if not for the fact that each time ekky has to say it he has to add another year to it which adds to the comedy of it all

"Hey, who's got the best setup on your team with the Panthers? When all the boys get together, 'We're going to your crib. We're gettin' on the jet skis,' whatever. Who's got the best setup?" "Yeah, um—Aaron [Ekblad]'s probably...I mean, Aaron's been there the longest. Hopefully, Barkov hears this! He's been there the longest, but he never invites the boys over to his house!" "Oh~ Barky!" "Is he cheap?" "I'm gonna call Barky out right now, and see if he can invite the whole team over next year..." "Is he cheap? Is he cheap? What is it?" "Will he do it?" "Oh, he's up in 9 East—obviously, like quiet, unbelievable guy, but he's the only up in Boca [Raton.] So I don't know if anybody wants to even drive up to Boca..." "Oh, Fancyland Zone..." "What do you mean? How far is that away from where you are? Like, and everybody else?" "Yeah, we're all in Ft. Lauderdale, Las Olas—within probably... you know some families are in Parkland by the arena, but we're all within probably 10 minutes away and he's up 30, 40 minutes away so."

The Cam & Strick Podcast | 7.25.23 (x)

the boys ribbing sasha for living so far away and never inviting them to his house but still going btw hes amazing and incredible and perfect and sososo good we say this to tease him but like this is just who he is as a person and we accept that so please dont misconstrue this into something its not this is a joke and we dont take it to heart

and on that topic its really a shame that NA media doesnt know how fucking funny and how absolutely unserious he can be. I understand the notion of diligent no-nonsense captain is a prevalent idea (which he is lets make that clear he takes hockey so seriously) but especially since this season hes said hes cut down on weight so he could skate faster (and the results show) so i understand where the questions are coming from knowing the track record but also

we've won a cup and hes ramped it up its fantastic and this is one of my favourite examples of it of how quippy he can be

happy to talk about my cappy!!! happy to tease my cappy!!!

"and you know hes one of those perfect humans right? you know one of the guys we all strive to be, and we'll all come short forever but yeah he's a good person" do you also cry about how terribly fond and sincere ekky gets about sasha

[slimeshade]

Whenever I see stuff about "making ocs out of fandom characters", I'm reminded of this one au in progress because-

How did I get here?

[hheckkingart]

more gay shit for my fic Rodion Waltz

Op needs a good cry guys

[glitter-stained]

Me the rest of the year: hey wanna read a thriller bordering on psychological horror where Bruce thinks Jason is a necrophile degrading Jason's and Steph's corpses and because of his traumatic past Jason thinks Bruce is a pedophile who sexually abuses his robins and got Steph pregnant and they wanna kill eachother?

Me on Halloween: hey wanna read a comedy