#yes i am still taking requests for who to overanalyze next

[ghostinthegallery]

Time to overthink the Silent King!

Aw yeah, @angoryt got their request in first, so sure. Szarekh—second coolest necron centerpiece model—is up to be psychoanalyzed by me, a rando on the internet.

Szarekh is interesting for a lot of reasons, and a lot of that stems from how mysterious he is. He's relatively new to the game as it were and he has basically no story appearances because GW hates xenos and also me. Still we have some things to go on...

So what do we know? He was the one that made the deal with the Deceiver (who tbf was not called the Deceiver at the time) to turn the necrontyr into the necrons we know and love today. He had full control of everything single necron via command protocols, but he surrendered that power after the War in Heaven. He ordered the Great Sleep. He entered a self imposed exile and now has returned because he saw something out in the universe that he deemed a great enough threat to return (it's the Tyranids put a pin in that).

He may or may not have met Sanguinias. He may or may not have a plan to reverse biotransference. He has a thing for pylons. That's about all we get.

I see a character here that tried to be a good king. In many ways he was, but he failed in the most catastrophic way. Every single action he's taken has been an attempt to protect his empire and his people and all of them backfired. Biotransference was... biotransference. The Great Sleep caused so many dynasties to be lost to planetary death, scavengers, and madness. And the galaxy they are waking up to is arguably even worse than the one they hibernated to escape. Even Szarekh's attempt to atone for his mistakes by exiling himself left a power vacuum that the triarchy couldn't fully fill. The necrons are completely fractured, their empire is significantly weaker as a result, and it's partially because of Szarekh's choice.

But he still isn't giving up. Despite being haunted by his failures, he's still trying to unite his people and save them from the mistakes he's made. He's trying to protect the whole galaxy from the Tyranids, even though he and the other necrons could just let them devour everything and move on. Tyranids avoid necrons and tombworlds because they have no biomass. Szarekh doesn't have to fight them, but he chooses to because he believes that if he doesn't, he can never reverse biotransference. The necrons will just die a slow death to entropy and Szarekh will have a front row seat to watch the decay of everything he loved.

He's motivated by profound guilt and desire to protect his people, but it constantly ends in tragedy. Do I think this makes him a "good" person? No, not really. He's deeply shrewd and manipulative. He used Dante's and the other Blood Angels love and grief for Sanguinias to essentially turn them into bait for his fight with some Tyranids. Szarekh survived necron court politics for millennia, he doesn't f*ck around.

Note, Szarekh didn't just show up and try to take over immediately. He built up support, a new court, he allied with everyone's favorite robot murder scientist Illuminor Szeras. The guy isn't an idiot. He made a lot of wrong choices, but those choices came from good intentions rather than incompetence.

It's infuriating GW isn't doing more with Szarekh as a character. He's a tragic king! Loved and hated by his own empire with equal intensity. He should at least have one novel where he features (if not multiple). If they want to maintain the mystery around him (which is fair) make him an antagonist for someone like Imotekh or even Dante, Lion, or Guilliman if they insist of featuring the Imperium. Do some uneasy alliances. Get the aeldar in here! Szarekh also shows just how dangerous and terrifying the tyranids are, which is great if GW wants tyranids to be the Big Bad of 10th. You want some extra horror attached to the space bugs? Just give a hint of what Szarekh saw out in the universe that terrified him enough to break a 65 million year exile.

Szarekh is a walking Shakespearean tragedy with a sick model, and I hope he gets more love in the lore.

If you like how I think about characters l, read my AO3 nonsense. Leave a comment, I live for those.

Next on the list: Anrakyr the Traveler! As requested by @fobosfear

[babymetaldoll]

Passive aggressive (Spencer Reid/Reader)

Requested: Yes!

Warnings: Cursing, a little angst, a lot of fluff. Spencer being an asshole.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader

Category: A little angst with a fluffy ending.

Summary: Spencer and his girlfriend don't know if they will survive their first fight.

Word count: 3.5 K

A/N: Hello my favorite people!! how are you doing? hope you are all safe!  here's a little "angsty" request. I had to pick between Gubler and Spencer, but I think Spencer suits better for this request. Hope you like it!

Masterlist

─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

When (Y/N) fell in love with Spencer Reid, she couldn't think of anything wrong about him. Sure, she knew the man had flaws, but honestly, none of those actually bothered her. Not his rambling, not his lack of social cues. Neither his previous trauma nor how he kept moving his hands as he spoke, and how it gradually increased when the subject was about something he loved.

She liked all those things about him.

Spencer ignored all the flaws people pointed out about (Y/N), 'cos he was in love with her. He didn't care that she had a hard time sharing her feelings and that he had to basically profile her to get to know what was, in fact, going on with her. He didn't care that she was a little bossy from time to time, 'cos he loved making her happy.

All those things he could deal with, 'cos he loved everything about her.

But people don't warn you when you are dating for a long while. All those little things that don't matter can turn into a bunch of flaws that start driving you nuts. And after eight-month dating, their perfect honeymoon was over. Spencer Reid and his girlfriend were about to get into their first official fight.

No one prepared them for it.

- "Spencer? Can you help me, please?"- (Y/N) was in his room, folding bed sheets and towels.

- "In a minute!"- Spencer replied and didn't take his eyes from the book he was reading.

- "You said that twenty minutes ago"- (Y/N) frowned and dropped the clean sheets on their bed- "Please, Spencer. I'm tired, and I wanna go to bed. I'd finish folding the clean clothes if you helped me."

- "In a minute."- Spencer repeated and didn't even pay much attention to his girlfriend's annoyed tone of voice until it was too late. She was standing right next to her in the living room.

- "Spencer! Please! Fucking help me now!"- he raised both eyebrows and stared back at her, her cheeks red in anger and her hands clenched into fists.

- "Why are you talking to me like that? I haven't raised my voice to you."

- "'Cos I'm fucking tired, and you've been relaxing here for over an hour, while I do everything in the house, and you don't cooperate!"

- "Excuse me?"- Spencer stood up and took a look around- "Who cooked dinner?"

- "You did! and did you do the dishes? And cleaned the kitchen afterward? 'cos as far as I remember seeing it, it's still a mess!"

- "I'm gonna do it in a minute!"

- "No, you won't! You always do this! You make a big mess, pretend you'll clean it in a minute, and then you just leave it there until I do it!"- Spencer frowned and looked at (Y/N)'s angry face.

- "No, I don't! If anything! I am the one cleaning all the messes you leave around here all the time!"

- "What?!"- (Y/N) shriek, feeling almost insulted- "Which messes are you talking about?"

- "Top of my mind, all the hair you left in the shower! It was fucking disgusting!"

- "What?!"

- "If maybe you used all the freaking bobby pins you keep leaving everywhere, maybe the shower drain wouldn't get blocked!"

- "I didn't block the drain!"

- "And by the way, I told you I was going to help you with laundry. You didn't wait for me to it with you."

- "If I wait for you to help me, I'll run out of clean clothe, and I'll have nothing to wear tomorrow for work."

- "You do have a lot of clean clothing at your apartment! Maybe if you spent some time there, you'd see it. But you are always here!"

(Y/N)'s heart dropped. Since they had started dating eight months ago, they had spent most of their time in Spencer's apartment. She never overanalyzed it. They just did. (Y/N) loved Spencer's apartment 'cos it felt like home, and he always made her feel welcome.

Clearly, Spencer didn't feel the same. Not anymore, at least.

- "Sorry for intruding on your space, Spencer. I just thought you liked having me here!"- (Y/N) whispered with anger, trying not to cry, as she gathered all her things and put on her shoes.

- "I love having you here, but it's my house, and I don't appreciate you bossing me around, telling me what to do, when to do it, and how to do it, all the fucking time!"

Spencer kind of yelled, still mad, and not seeing the painful look in his girlfriend's eyes.

- "Well, enjoy your space. I won't tell you what to do anymore!"- and after those words, (Y/N) stormed out of the apartment, and Spencer sighed, staring at the empty space around him.

How did things get so out of hand? He had no idea. He didn't mean to hurt her, but the truth was that she was smothering him with all the nagging about the housework she kept doing. He didn't want her to do all the chores alone. He just had his own way of doing things, and he hated the fact she was imposing hers.

Could it have been said in a better way?

Yes. But Spencer didn't see that at that minute. He didn't realize how much he had hurt her. Why? Spencer didn't mean wrong, but he had no idea how hurtful his words could be when he was angry. And that night, Spencer was beyond angry.

Now, what's worse than having your first awful fight with your boyfriend? Having your first fight with your boyfriend, seeing him the day after at work, and having to act like everything is ok, 'cos you gave Hotch, your unit chief, your word your relationship wasn't going to get in the way of your work.

Bullshit! Of course, it was going to get in the way. Hotch knew it, (Y/N) Knew it, Spencer knew it. But the three of them pretended they had no idea what was going to happen.

Hotch thought Spencer and (Y/N) were going to be a mature young couple, 'cos he could see how much they loved each other. They had been in love with each other for so long before actually doing something about their feelings. Hotch thought they were never going to have any kind of trouble or argument.

He was so wrong it hurt.

The following morning, (Y/N) walked into the bullpen holding a black cup of coffee and headed straight to her desk. She waved at Emily and JJ and sighed, relieved, when she noticed Spencer was in the kitchenette with Morgan. That gave her the chance to casually ignore him and wait a little before dealing with him.

The truth was, (Y/N) was scared after their fight. She had known Spencer for over seven years, and she knew he had been honest about everything he had told her the night before. Everything. Sure, he yelled and hurt her. He didn't sugar-coat anything when he was mad. But he wasn't lying, and that was scary.

(Y/N) also knew Spencer was very passive-aggressive when he was upset. That was why she knew she had to be the bigger person and avoid him as much as possible while they were at work. Because, whatever she could say about the subject, or related, was going to trigger Spencer.

She remembered when Spencer got mad at JJ when he found out Emily wasn't dead. Spencer was hurtful when he was angry, and you don't want to be the target of his anger.

Spencer reached his desk and noticed his girlfriend was sitting all alone, practically hiding underneath a pile of files. His heart ached, staring at her for a second, fighting back the impulse of walking over and kissing her.

How long since he had kissed her? 14 hours, 17 minutes, 22 seconds. And counting.

But no. Spencer wanted to make a point, and he was still mad. He didn't want to cave in and lose that argument. Yes, it was their first fight, but he wanted to make a point. He didn't want her to boss him around in his own place and change his schedules. He had his own way of doing things. Like Paula Anka and Sinatra said: I did it my way.

Spencer had no idea, but his silence was slowly breaking (Y/N)'s heart more and more. She looked at him for a second, but he paid her no attention. Maybe it was better that way, she thought. She could focus on all the work she had to do.

But no. Of course, it didn't help.

When Penelope walked over and announced they had a case, half the team had already realized there was something wrong with their love bird. Spencer hadn't walked over (Y/N) with her favorite pastry soon after her arrival. She hadn't kissed him good morning. He hadn't spent half of the time staring at her from his desk. If anything, they had been ignoring each other most of the day.

Emily, JJ, and Derek looked at each other when (Y/N) stood up and walked alone to the conference room. Spencer didn't follow, didn't hold her hand. Didn't even look at her. He just gathered his things, put them in his satchel, and waited for a few minutes before standing up, just to make sure he wasn't alone in the room with (Y/N).

It was crystal clear: things were not going right.

Spencer ignored (Y/N) during the briefing at the jet, and he was relieved Hotch had paired him with Emily. (Y/N) focused on the case, and she was also glad she didn't have to see Reid during part of the day. She had to go to the last murder scene with Derek. It was sad and disturbing, but directing her attention to the case gave her a break and even some peace of mind.

- "What happened between you and pretty Ricky?"- Morgan was driving the SUV, and (Y/N) kept her eyes glued to the window.

- "We had a little argue"- she whispered- "Thank you for making me realize we are not subtle."

- "You are not glued to each other. That's weird. I haven't seen you two apart since you joined the BAU."- Derek chuckled and looked at (Y/N). Her arms were crossed on her chest, and her eyes were teary.

- "Wait, pretty girl. It was just a silly argument, right?"- Derek didn't even consider the couple could break up. Ever. For Derek, his best friend and his girlfriend were it for each other.

- "I don't know. I know I have to give Spencer a little space to cool off, but the more I think about it, the worst it feels."

- "But, (Y/N). He loves you. You can't let that go."- she cut him a short smile and nodded.

- "I love him too. Sometimes you wonder if that's enough, though. Maybe it was better for us when we were platonic."

- "You can't be serious"- Morgan frowned, and (Y/N) just shrugged- "Spencer is crazy for you. No matter what he said, he loves you."

Morgan was right. Spencer loved (Y/N) more than he loved himself. But he wasn't ready to let that one argument go just yet. Besides, the doctor focused on work that week. That case occupied 99% of his mind during the next couple of days.

(Y/N) knew that's how he usually worked. And the frustration that the case caused them, plus the anger he still felt after their fight, didn't make a good person out of Spencer. If anything, he was looking for a reason to start an argument with pretty much everyone, especially with (Y/N).

- "We have to consider this unsub is not acting on a fantasy. He is looking for revenge, and he is escalating quickly."- Hotch said, going over the files again.

- "But if the murderer spends time with them in their houses and kills them with something they own, something that actually means something for them, I think we might be looking for a woman. This is too personal, and at the same time, it feels domestic"- (Y/N) analyzed, staring at the latest murderer's scene pictures.

- "Perhaps the Freds didn't help her fold the clean sheets."- Spencer whispered and shook his head. (Y/N) held her breath and stood up. She had to move away from Spencer to avoid answering that kind of comment.

Unlucky for her, Spencer wasn't close to being done. And for the rest of the night, he whispered hurtful comments and kept breaking her heart over and over again. (Y/N) knew Spencer was mad, but she didn't imagine how much. Maybe she had pushed him too hard. What if that was it? If that fight meant the end for them? She was actually scared to ask.

After catching the murderer and solving the case, (Y/N) sat on her own on the jet back home, hugging her legs on her seat. Emily looked at her from behind her book and decided her friend needed some love. She poured a cup of earl grey and walked to her with a warm smile.

- "You are my hero, Emily Prentiss."- (Y/N) whispered and held her cup.

- "Well, it comes with the job. I can read it all over your face: you need tea, a warm bath, and fix things with Reid."

(Y/N) closed her eyes and sighed. Spencer was at the other side of the jet, asleep. Or well, pretending to be asleep just to avoid talking to her. She knew it, and it didn't make her feel better at all.

- "I don't know what happened, Em. But I think this might be it" Prentiss wide opened her eyes at those words and held (Y/N)'s hand right away.

- "No way. He is crazy for you."

- "Yeah, it's funny 'cos Morgan said the same a few days ago. But after this week, I think I actually drive him crazy in a sick bad smothering way. I really think I fucked things up"- (Y/N) was fighting the tears back and looked over the window to avoid human contact, though Emily still held her hand.

- "(Y/N), you have to talk to him. He loves you. He is not good with social cues and facing people. You know that."

- "Yeah, I know. But I thought it was going to be different with me. It's me, it's him. This was supposed to work easily. I guess I was wrong".

- "Nothing worth doing comes easy, (Y/N)"- Prentiss whispered and squeezed her friend's hand- "Don't give up on Spence."

(Y/N) didn't want to give up. But she was scared Spencer had already decided. It looked that way after his cold and mean attitude those days. When the jet landed, she tried to walk to him and talk, but he avoided her and just left.

(Y/N) walked to her car and sat behind the steering wheel. Finally, alone after a rough couple of days, she burst into tears. She was scared and frustrated, and most of all, anxious to know what was going to happen. That was a terrible mix of feelings.

She knew that she didn't want to push Spencer to continue a relationship that might make him miserable. That's why, after taking a few minutes to calm herself down, she texted him.

- "I'm sorry things got till this point. I didn't mean to make you feel so bad. I understand if you want to break up. I'll pick up my things tomorrow."

Spencer felt his cellphone hum as he walked into his apartment, holding a box of tandoori chicken. He thought for a second it might be Hotch with another case, and sighed annoyed just at the thought of missing the chance to relax on his own again.

But when he read it, it was actually worse.

He left the food on the table and read the text over and over again.

What had he done? Why did (Y/N) think he wanted to break up with her? That wasn't his plan at all. He just wanted to prove a point. Not end with their relationship.

Did he push things too far?

Did he act like an asshole?

Did he ruin everything?

Spencer stared at his apartment, and his heart ached. He didn't care if (Y/N) changed everything around. He just wanted her there, with him. Always. He could do laundry whenever she wanted to. He could fold sheets whenever she asked him to. He could be as domestic as she wanted him to be if that meant that she would stay with him.

(Y/N) drove back home. She thought about getting something for dinner, but honestly, all she wanted was to get into her bed and try to sleep. Spencer didn't reply to her text, which somehow surprised her. A part of her was waiting for him to tell her he didn't want to break up. But that silence was the confirmation she didn't want to have: it was over.

The young agent did her best to remain calm as she drove back home. She didn't want to cry. She could listen to Spencer's voice at the back of her head giving her some statistics about people crushing their cars when they drove under emotional distress.

(Y/N) made it to her building, parked the car, and literally dragged herself upstairs. She was about to reach her apartment when she saw him. Spencer Reid, waiting for her, sitting on the floor, his back resting against her door. She froze for a few seconds, looking at him, confused. He stared back at her and held his breath. Her eyes were puffy and red, her face was pale, and yet, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever set eyes on.

- "(Y/N), I'm so sorry."- Spencer whispered and stood up. He walked to her and held her hands. She didn't follow, so she stayed in silence. Spencer lifted her hands until they reached his face and caressed himself with them carefully for a few seconds, tears falling from his eyes.

- "I'm so sorry, I was an asshole."- he murmured and kissed her hands over and over again as he sobbed.

- "Spencer..."- she whispered and stared at him confused- "I'm sorry."

- "No, I am. I was mean to you, and you didn't deserve it. You have to know how much I love you. How deeply in love I am with you. I love spending all my time with you. I don't want you to live twelve and a half blocks away from my apartment. I want you there all the time. Or I can be here all the time. I just... don't want to lose you."

- "I don't wanna lose you either"- (Y/N) managed to say- "I'm sorry I was so bossy and that I invaded your space."

- "No, I'm sorry I was an asshole and so passive-aggressive with you. I love you. I promise I will never act like that again"- Spencer hugged her and hid his face on the crook of her neck. (Y/N) hugged him too and breathed in his smell, feeling at home right away.

- "I missed you so much"- Spencer held her face with both hands and kissed her sweetly, rubbing his lips against her with such love and tenderness, (Y/N) felt her heart skipping a beat.

- "I missed you more"- she sighed into the kiss and held him closer.

- "I swear, I'm never going to hurt you again, buttercup."

- "I'm not going to nag you again. I don't care if you don't fold sheets, chipmunk"- (Y/N) smiled and rested her forehead against his for a moment.

- "You are doomed, (Y/N), 'cos I'm gonna do whatever you ask me to do from now on."- Spencer leaned in and kissed her again, feeling her smiling against his lips.

- "I just want you to be happy with me, Spencer"- she murmured- "I never want to make you feel like I'm invading your space or being bossy."

- "Then move in with me"- he said and smiled like a mad man- "I don't want it to be my apartment anymore. I want it to be ours. Let's find a place for the both of us, so we can make it our home."

(Y/N) stared into Spencer's eyes, and all she could read was his excitement and adoration. So she giggled and nodded.

- "Yes! I wanna have a home with you!"- she answered and nearly started jumping- "Come on, let's go inside so we can start looking for a new apartment. Or a house!"- her excitement was contagious, and it made SPencer chuckle.

- "Or we can have make-up sex first,"- he suggested, and (Y/N) dropped the keys she was holding. "Did you know when we argue, post-powerful hormones are released? The rush of adrenaline, noradrenaline, and testosterone triggers a state of extreme arousal. The perception of threat combined with the influence of the hormones on our brains is what takes us from seething with anger to seething with desire..."

- "I love it when you talk dirty to me, Spencer Walter Reid"- (Y/N) opened the door, and the couple rushed in. They hated to argue, but at least something god had come out of it.

------

Spencer Taglist

@calm-and-doctor @all-tings-diego

[salem-v]

I didn’t forget about the request I swear! @plaggandadrienbondingisthebest, I just got kinda busy, then I was updating other stories. And got really excited about one thing I was working on, but anyway. I hope you enjoy this! I posted this a bit different than usual >.>

When the words had come out of Plagg’s mouth, Adrien felt his world come to an abrupt stop. “Seriously, who cares about friendship!” First Marinette didn’t consider him a good friend, and now Plagg wasn’t his friend?

A part of him had always believed that Plagg had considered him a friend and appreciated him. At least appreciated him for the expensive camembert he bought Plagg. Adrien quickly shook it off, bouncing back to the subject of Marinette. 

Which only made him feel worse but not as bad as thinking about Plagg’s words. Perhaps he was just thinking too deeply about it? He did have the bad habit of misinterpreting the meaning of people’s words and overanalyzing interactions.

Plagg most likely didn’t mean what he had said in the way Adrien thought he did. But, his mind reminded him, there’s always the chance he did mean it in the way Adrien thought. Plagg has had many Chat Noirs before him, that could be all Plagg thought of him as. Just another holder. 

Even after fighting and defeating the Akuma, the words were still ringing in his ears. The thoughts and worries continued to swim around his mind. Did Plagg not want to be his friend? Coming home Adrien felt the weight of everything crush down on him. 

Letting out a sigh he felt his eyes begin to burn. He brought his hands up and covered his face, holding his breath. He thought he had fixed things with Marinette, but somehow ruined things again. He heard Plagg chatter on in the background about cheese. 

Quickly grabbing his clothes, he made his way to the bathroom with blurry eyes. Switching on the shower, he quickly stepped in, not even waiting for the water to heat up. He bit his lip to prevent any sounds that could escape. 

Clasping a hand over his mouth when a sob bubbled up. He felt warm tears falling from his face, as his mind continued to produce worse thoughts. What if Plagg found a better Chat Noir? What if Plagg left? His breath was coming faster, the noise around him was fading out. Plagg was the only friend he could always rely on. Sometimes it felt like Plagg was the thin lining keeping him from complete solitude. 

He didn’t hear Plagg flying through the door inquiring about more cheese, he especially didn’t hear Plagg’s questioning over his own thoughts and sobs. 

He jolted when he felt a small paw touch him, his eyes snapping open and his mind going silent as everything came back around him. The tile coming first, then the sound of running water hitting the tile, his heavy pants next, then Plagg’s paw, and lastly Plagg’s worried questions. 

“Is everything alright kid?” Adrien felt himself blink slowly, tears still running down. “Well, that was a stupid question, obviously you aren’t alright. Is this about pigtails?” 

“Am I your friend?” Adrien didn’t look at Plagg as he asked this question. Plagg tilted his head and looked at him curiously. 

“Yes?” Adrien felt the weight lift off his chest, “Why? What’s wrong?!” Plagg asked seeing the tears begin running down his face faster. 

“You said you didn’t care about friendship. I thought you didn’t care about me and didn’t consider me a friend.” Plagg’s mind immediately replayed the even. 

“Oh, kid, I didn’t mean it like that. I was just trying to make you feel better. You’re the best Chat Noir I’ve ever had. Of course, you’re my friend.” Adrien heaved a sob, bringing his hands up to wipe at his eyes. “I’m sorry kid, I swear I didn’t mean it like that.”

Plagg purred and hugged Adrien, the best he could with his small body. “You’re my best friend Plagg.” Plagg’s heart warmed and squeezed at the blonde’s words. 

“You’re mine too kid.” Adrien smiled and sniffed. Even during the shower, Plagg didn’t leave. Despite hating getting wet, he still hung around while Adrien was showering. Napping on one of the shelves, hissing when he got splashed by Adrien’s hair.

“Sorry, Plagg!” Plagg grumbled and settled back down, this time taking shelter behind some bottles. 

After the shower and Adrien had dried and clothed, Plagg rested on his shoulder for the rest of the evening. Adrien was comforted by the tiny weight on his shoulder.

[dearfuturehusbandblog]

Welcome To The World, LittleBean: A Life Update

Dear Future Husband,

My sister had the baby! And it made me depressed.

I kind of receded from the world for a couple of weeks and stopped talking to people I enjoy talking to, and stopped doing things I enjoy doing, and kind of stayed in my room unless it was absolutely necessary to leave.

Why, might you ask, would I have done such a thing as a response to such a happy event?

Well, for some of the reasons I've written about previously. The emotional weight of the sadness that comes along with seeing a younger sibling live through something you yourself desire but feel you'll never have, is probably the biggest.

But another reason I've been really down is because of my mother.

Dear old MotherLivelyHeart has problems.

I think I've mentioned this previously, but if/when I marry, I will most definitely be marrying INTO a family and as "out" of my own as I possibly can.

MotherLivelyHeart suffers from anxiety and depression. Shocker, I know.

In fact, my inner voice is comprised mainly of her criticism and negativity. Shocker, I know.

Dear old MotherLivelyHeart has never really wanted to be a mother, as far as I can tell. Shocker? ...I dunno.

When I was growing up, my mother used to always say "I only had children for the grandkids" and everyone would laugh. But HAHA! it wasn't a joke. I figured out pretty early on that she was kind of serious with that statement.

But nothing in my life confirmed that until she was on the phone with her machutanim on the day LittleBean was born and repeated that sentiment to them.

So, all my life, she's struggled with being the parent she never wanted to be in order for us to have offspring that she could love and adore and spoil and then send home to their parents without having to parent herself.

THIS is the "home" I came from.

THIS is the parenting I received.

It's absolutely no wonder I'm so screwed up.

My mother has been overbearing my entire life. And a lot of it comes from her own insecurities and anxieties and lack of the world living up to her expectations. Which is kind of understandable.

The problem comes when those expectations come at the cost of other peoples' comfort and safety.

LilSis had a c-section. The baby wasn't exactly breached, but was flipped at a weird angle and stuck. The baby was also a meconium baby, so while it was already over a week past the due date, LilSis thought she still had time. But as it turned out there wasn't any time because when she went for what she thought was a routine check up, they induced her and after two days of labor and nothing happening, they did the c-section.

Now, LilSis made it clear earlier this year that she didn't want anyone at the hospital with her aside from her doula and husband. No visitors, family included. The rest of us seemed to accept this, but MotherLivelyHeart just kind of smirked and went, "yeah, ok, we'll see about that."

And I get that LilSis is her baby.

I get that it's not easy to see your child suffer.

I get that she's been waiting her whole life to be a grandmother.

I get that she's had expectations about what it would be like to meet her grandchildren, especially her first grandchild.

I. GET. IT.

But when LilSis facetimed and showed us the baby and B"H the baby looked fine but LilSis was clearly too pale and weak and dizzy and needed to get off the phone, but again repeated that she didn't want anyone coming to the hospital, dear old MotherLivelyHeart's response was that she wanted to "surprise" them at the hospital.

"I don't need to ask permission."

"I'm not a 'visitor', I'm her MOTHER."

"I don't need permission to see my own daughter."

"I know what she needs, I'll just drop it off, give her a hug and leave."

"I don't need to see her, I just want to see the baby."

UHM, NOOOOOOOOO.

Your daughter is almost 30.

She's been married for over half a decade.

She has a right to her space and her boundaries for her little nuclear family and YOU ARE CROSSING THEM by even THINKING that would be acceptable.

And the next day, my mother called LilSis and asked her about something she wanted to bring with her. LilSis made it clear that she didn't want anyone to come. When my mother didn't seem to get this, my brother in law texted her a kind "now isn't a good time" message and my mother felt "ganged up on".

She went into a tailspin.

"They don't like me."

"What did I ever do to them that they hate me so much?"

"I've been dissed and dismissed."

"They've cut me out of their lives."

And sooooooo many other thoughts along those lines.

There isn't even enough space here to describe all the insane things she did as a response to this "rejection" she was experiencing.

She was 100000000000% projecting her own thoughts, expectations, and experiences with her own c-section onto LilSis and the whole situation was absurd.

Then LittleBean ended up back in the hospital because of some complications and LilSis and her husband still wanted space.

Now, what MotherLivelyHeart doesn't know, because I will never tell her, is that I saw LittleBean before she did.

Because I'm actually supportive and respectful of boundaries, when they got home LilSis and her husband allowed me to come by and drop stuff off, and run some errands for them (while they were still keeping overbearing MotherLivelyHeart at arms length). So I met LittleBean like 3 or 4 times. And the babes is absolutely precious. <3

LilSis and her husband finally let MotherLivelyHeart over this past week to meet LittleBean and help out and it's like a switch was flipped. Suddenly everything for MotherLivelyHeart is sunshine and rainbows and I legit can't handle the mood swings.

But I digress....

One night last week I drove around and cried and screamed for an hour.

It absolutely sucks when you have no one to talk to.

Which brings me to the next part of my life update:

I finally spoke to a therapist.

So, I thought I was ghosted by the therapist I wanted to speak to. It took a few days, but he finally responded there was an issue with his online scheduler and he needed me to reschedule.

Fine, whatever.

I rescheduled for two weeks from that date (which had already been rescheduled from two weeks prior). So, now it's been a month and a half.

Fine, whatever.

Well, my meeting with him ended up being earlier this week. As it turns out, this therapist I wanted to speak to isn't taking on new clients at the moment, so he was acting more as triage for his practice and had a 15 minute zoom call with me before picking a therapist from his practice he thought I'd connect with.

So the next night I had an hour and a half zoom call with her and she's absolutely lovely and has experience working with children and adults who have experienced similar situations to the one I'm in.

For $120 I had my thought processes and experiences validated.

But that's pretty much it.

She told me I sound pretty level headed and understand what's healthy and what's not healthy in my life and in my past (which is one of the problems with being an overthinker, overanalyzer, and having done extensive research to try and figure out WTF is wrong with me), and she told me there are some exercises to try and reduce stress because it's clear that I'm overstressed and have been since I was a child, and even possibly since birth.

But these are all things I knew already. These are all things I've validated for myself. Yes, it's nice to hear a specialist say the same things, but for $120!?

I literally had to use unemployment money to pay for that. Unemployment that I'm going to have to end pretty soon.

How on EARTH am I supposed to be able to afford continued therapy when it costs so bloody much!?

It's absolutely awful that the people who need therapy the most are the ones who can't afford it.

And I found an organization that claims to help anyone who asks without needing an explanation, so I messaged them a brief "my life is a mess and I need to talk to a therapist. I found someone I think I can connect with, but it costs $120." and they sent me $10.

They said they help anyone who asks without an explanation.

I gave a valid explanation with a specific amount requested.

And they sent me $10.

It just so often feels like I'm banging my head against a wall.

Like I'm a joke to Hashem.

This random organization was like a beacon in the dark. A sign from Hashem that if I reach out for help, I can receive it.

He put this organization into my path and awareness just at the time that I needed it.

All so that He could mock me.

OF COURSE the therapy practice I chose doesn't take insurance.

Not that it would help, because my OBAMAdoesntCARE has been PENDING SINCE OCTOBER.

So OF COURSE I have to pay out of pocket.

And OF COURSE it costs so damn much.

And OF COURSE when I reach out for help I get laughed at.

What did they think I was supposed to do with the $10?

That's literally 1/12 of what I needed.

Even the Torah has us give more than that in maaser.

I legitimately don't understand.

Where do I have to go and what do I have to do to get a sugar daddy to pay for this so I can get my goddamn life in order!?

I'm literally drowning out here and God is throwing me half-deflated pool floaties.

On the bright side, I keep making amazing non-Jewish internet friends.

Do you know how much that sucks?

That I'm literally getting more support from non-Jewish internet friends that live halfway across the world than I am from my own community?

And it sucks even more to know that Hashem put those people into my path too!!

He literally keeps giving me things that He knows will make me feel worse because they make me feel better but also disconnected from the Jewish community, and not giving me things that would make me feel better and closer to Him and the Jewish community.

What am I supposed to do with that knowledge!?

I've often wondered if maybe I just wasn't meant to be Jewish. Like maybe there was some mistake and my mother isn't really Jewish and therefore I'm not Jewish and this is Hashem's way of telling me that I just need to separate myself from the Jewish world and go seek a secular life because that's truly who I'm supposed to be.

Except that my parents were married by a really chashuv community rav who did his research and would not have married my parents if there'd been even one safek as to her Jewishness.

And so, I'm stuck.

I'm stuck feeling constantly disconnected from the community that's supposed to be my rock and support. By the God who's supposed to be merciful and kind.

It's exhausting.

Are you out there? Do you feel the same? Are you a BT or ger or someone else who has lived both lives and can explain to me why yiddishkeit is better?

I have too much Jewish guilt to walk away from any of this, but I have too much mental stress to keep striving to be a part of it.

It's utterly exhausting to be stuck in the middle.

I hope you're doing better than I am.

-LivelyHeart

[joaquinfeed]

Light ‘Em Up (Arthur Fleck x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Thank you all for welcoming me into this fandom with open arms. I appreciate the support so far. If you want to request fanfics, I am always open to doing them for almost all of Joaquin’s characters.

I apologize for any mistakes.

Prompt: Reader starts buying cigarettes to try and impress her cute neighbor, Arthur. 

—-

You hate smoking.

You truly believe it’s up to the individual on if or when they choose to start the habit. After all, who are you to judge? You know how being a human works—we all have our vices. Whether it’s drugs, sex, or buying a bi-weekly pack of cigarettes just to show off in front of your incredibly quiet, yet beautiful, neighbor. Yeah, we all have our vices.

Since moving to Gotham, you have seen him around the apartment complex a number of times, and you were sure that he’s noticed you too. Although, recently, you’ve taken a different approach to get his attention.

While picking up some cheap snacks at the drugstore in town, you caught him buying a pack of cigarettes. You walked towards the cashier next to your neighbor and sat the items you were holding on the counter. Your eyes couldn’t help but glance over to the man beside you, as you took in everything from his long, curly hair, to his fingers resting firmly against the pack of Marlboros.

“Will that be all ma'am?” The cashier says, breaking you out of your trance.

“Can I get a pack of cigarettes?” You ask, impulsively. If your neighbor doesn’t notice you in the hallways of your Gotham apartment, surely he will see this.

“What kind do you want?”

“What…kind?” You look desperately over at your neighbor, trying to see what brand he had in his hand. Unfortunately, all you could make out between his fingers is an M, a B, and an S. “Give me the, um, normal ones?”

The cashier gives you a look before walking to the glass cabinet, pulling out a pack, and handing them to you.

“First time?” They ask, a hint of a smirk playing at their lips.

“No, no. I smoke all the time. I just- I just forgot what ones I usually buy.”

The person behind the counter doesn’t quite look like they believe you, but you don’t care. The only person you care about is the man checking out beside you. As you look over to see if he has witnessed the awkward exchange, you see him watching you with a small smile.

That’s where your sanity ended, and your ‘smoking’ habit began.

Now, almost a month later, you have managed to align your schedule nicely with your neighbor’s. Arthur—yes, you finally found out his name—just so happens to visit the drug store at the same time as you now.

“Hello, Y/N.” Arthur, who waves timidly at you as you enter the store, struts over to you, cigarettes already in hand. “Buying some smokes too?”

“Yeah, I’m out already. But you know me, Artie. I always need more.”

You frown down at your phone as you stare at the bank statement on your screen. Why the hell were cigarettes so freaking expensive? You didn’t expect to pay this much, and you already doubt if this process is even worth it. Who’s to say Arthur even cares if you smoke or not? 

Another part of your brain falters, though. You have a shitty job, live in a shitty apartment, and you feel like you have nothing to offer a man like Arthur—someone who is so sweet, kind, and incredibly funny. Your personality was dull at times, and you were worried if you and your neighbor didn’t have smoking in common, you wouldn’t have anything.

While you were overanalyzing your situation with Arthur, you didn’t even notice him jiggling his leg anxiously.

“Y/N, could we- I mean, would you want to… have a smoke together sometime?”

Your eyes widen, as slight panic runs through your veins. Arthur wants to smoke together. He wants to actually smoke the cigarettes that you have been buying and storing in your bedside table together.

You only manage to stumble out a small 'sure’ after he starts to look worried over your silence. Although you dread having to either smoke what you bought or tell him the truth, your whole body still fills with warmth as he breaks out into a smile.

It’s only later that night when you start to really get nervous. He had come by your apartment just a couple minutes prior, asking if you were free. Having no excuses in mind, plus an overwhelming need to be around the cute neighbor, made you quickly agree that you were. Now, the man of your affection is sitting on the couch, and you’re pacing around your room holding a pack.

“It’s time to go out there. Everything will be fine. How hard can smoking one cigarette be?” You question, mumbling to yourself. “You’ll get through it. The most important thing is that he’s here to see you.”

You finish your personal pep-talk before going to meet Arthur on the couch. By the looks of it, he’s already lit up and waiting for you. You plop down next to him, and he hands you the lighter. Your fingers fumble over the top of it, and it nearly drops out of your hands.

“How can somebody that smokes as much as you be so bad at lighting up?” Arthur says, a small laugh escaping his lips. He grabs the lighter and holds the flame up to the end of your cigarette. Your first drag hits harder than you expected, and you end up in a coughing fit. You try to cover it up, but judging by Arthur’s worried look, you don’t succeed at hiding it.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” He asks, hesitantly resting his hand on your shoulder.

“Sure! I- I just th- think I’m coming down with…something.” You answer, barely getting the words out through the coughing. 


Arthur looks at you suspiciously, asking if you’re sure. As you nod, you try taking another puff of the cigarette, only to be met with the same results. By this time, Arthur does not look convinced that you’re genuinely okay, and he questions you once more.

“I don’t smoke, okay? I think it’s gross, and I’m not used to it, and while I’m honest, it doesn’t smell all that great either!” You put the cigarette out before tossing it into the ashtray. “I just did it so we could have something in common to talk about.”

Arthur, who looked momentarily taken aback by your outburst, now looked even more puzzled.

“What- what do you mean? Why do we need to have things in common?”

“Because! I want to be around you, but being around you means needing something to talk about. You smoke every day, and I thought that if I did too, you would at least like something about me.” You frown, despising how desperate your words sound.

“That's…” He trails off, gesturing around him like he’s trying to find the words to say. “That’s just crazy. We don’t have to have things like that in common Y/N. I- I want to know what you actually like, not what you think I’d want you to like.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” You bite your lip, pausing. “You must think I’m crazy.”

Arthur only shakes his head at that comment, but as the night goes on, you figure out he does, in fact, think you’re crazy. He admits to you that he doesn’t understand why you’d go to so much trouble for him. You admit to him just how much he plagues your thoughts, and in response to that, he simply asks if he can hug you while a blush heats up his cheeks. Of course, you oblige, and that’s where you find yourself for the next 20 minutes—hugging your neighbor as your fingers run through his soft curls.

Your hands only stilling once you feel Arthur’s body start to shake against yours.

“Arthur?” You move your hand from his hair to his back. “Are you okay? Are you cold?”

You hear him mumble against your shirt, but you can’t hear what he’s said. You only begin to get a glimpse into what is going on once you hear the words “not real” and “imagination.”

“What’s that, Artie?”

“I don’t want this to go away.” He mutters, moving his head to the side so you can hear him.

“You don’t want what to go away?”

“You.”

Your heart suddenly hurts for the man hugging you. If there is a way to make Arthur believe you’re truly with him, you’re going to do it, even if it takes your whole life.

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here. You feel me, right?”

He nods.

“I’m- I’m scared that you're…in my mind.” He nearly whispers the last part, while moving to look you in your eyes. “I have nothing to offer you, Y/N.”

“You have yourself to offer me.” You give him a smile, hoping that you’re getting through to him. “You have sweet hellos, and kind compliments, and hilarious jokes to offer me. There’s also one more thing you can offer me too.”

He gives you a questioning look, but you don’t let him ponder over it too long before you lean in and press your lips against his in a short but sweet kiss. You pull away seconds later and giggle at his closed eyes and flushed cheeks. What a beautiful, beautiful man.

"That one is optional, though. The hellos, compliments, and jokes are mandatory in this relationship, but the kissing is voluntary.”

“R-relationship?” He stutters, still shocked and blushing at what just occurred.

“Only if you want.” It was your turn to blush, not realizing you had said 'relationship’ instead of friendship.

“Will we kiss again if we’re in a relationship?” He asks, innocently.

“Only if you want.” You repeat.

He doesn’t seem to think long before nodding.

“I do want.”

[bleedingthirium]

Everything I Love Becomes Everything I’ve Lost (Reed900)

Title: Everything I Love becomes everything I’ve Lost. Words: 2740 Genre: Angst. Hurt-Comfort. Grief. Characters: Reed900 Warnings: Death of pet and litter. Authors Note: Not sure why I wrote this. Just wanted Gavin to suffer like the sadistic lil shit I am. Who doesn’t love a quietly supportive and comforting Nines? No one? Just me then? Okay, I’ll yeet myself out. Also, sorry if its all out of character.

 It was funny, no, horrible, how someone can lose so much within the space of just a few hours, and almost lose themselves in the process. Nines witnessed it happen to Gavin. 

At the beginning, Nines was only meant to be there to watch what is considered the most beautiful humanitarian act on the planet; giving birth to life.

The cat Gavin rescued 2-3 months ago had been abandoned because it was pregnant and the owners couldn’t deal with more cats. Gavin took the Mama Cat in, literally renaming her ‘Mama’ and had told Nines about her. Nines seemed curious about the pregnancy and how it excited Gavin, and as something similar to an educational experience in the role of humanity, Gavin offered for Nines to watch the birth. 

Being on call wasn’t new to Nines, however, he couldn’t deny the very vague mix of nervousness and excitement that lingered in his system at awaiting the phone call any moment. 9:23pm, Nines received the call from Gavin, who had barely managed to form a structured sentence as he breathed out in a singular incoherent sentence, “She’sherethey’recominggetyourassoverherenow!” It was lucky that Nines was fluent in the language of Gavin Reed; able to decipher when the man was being sarcastic, covering up emotions or when his brain was working faster than his mouth – such as this particular instance. Arriving at Gavin’s 15 minutes later due to roadworks hindering him from arriving earlier, he expected to be greeted by an excited Gavin. However when he knocked on the door, it flung upon to see a panicked Gavin on the phone to someone. Gavin walked away from the door, focusing on the conversation on the other end of the phone while Nines stepped in. Immediately those cold, calculating blue eyes of his began to scan the room – blood, towels, half-full bowl of water tinged pink, and a cat loudly panting and mewling. Nines LED began to swirl to a bright yellow. Something didn’t feel right. His attention was brought to the conversation Gavin was having, and he noted how Gavin held the phone tightly to his ear as though he feared he’d miss a single word from what was being said. “Yes… about two hours… No, no…no… There’s blood…A lot…Okay, yep…yep… Okay, okay, thank you. Bye.” Gavin dropped to his knees with a curse (“Phk!”) that held heavier emotions that even Nines wasn’t used to dealing with from the Detective. “Detective Reed? What’s the problem?” Nines inquired, slowly stepping over to where Gavin was crouched on the floor with Mama. “Gavin?” Nines voice dropped to a more gentler tone as he knelt down on one knee beside Gavin. Gavin’s shoulders hunched over, phone slipped from his fingers as he sat helplessly by Mama’s side, unable to do much more but physically be there for her. Nines opened his mouth to try and gain the Detective’s “She’s uh… she’s not gonna make it. Four kittens were stillborn. She’s struggling to push the last one out.” “Is there anything I can do to help?” Nines asked, a hand reached out to place upon Gavin’s shoulder in physical reassurance but his original program conflicted with his newly found deviancy and he retracted his hand back to himself before Gavin saw the odd gesture. Gavin was silent. He knew if he spoke, he would break down. He had been fighting that panic in his chest since the beginning, the panic caused an intense fluttering which he knew if he opened his mouth, his chest would constrict tightly and instead of words forming, it would be god knows what kind of sound he was currently pushing down. A shaky breath in that did not go unnoticed by Nines, Gavin tried his best to keep it steady, “There’s uh… the kittens…in…in the….kitch…the table…Can you just, can you just…” Fuck. How to explain to a fucking android how to take care of the deceased as though they need a comfortable place to lay when it was a comfort to Gavin’s soul knowing they’re resting comfortably. “…wrap them up nicely or something?” “Of course.” Nines LED still swirled yellow, but not out of incompetence at the request given, but at Gavin’s levels of emotions. He was distraught but wasn’t showing it. However, if this small request would help ease Gavin’s internal struggle with his emotions, Nines was more than happy to oblige. He found the deceased kittens wrapped up loosely in a blanket, no doubt in a rush with everything being handled by one person, so Nines began looking for something more suitable to place them in. He found a small empty box and lined it with some tea-towels before placing each individual kitten in the box, next to each other, and then placing a final tea-towel over the kittens. Nines made a mental note to replace Gavin’s tea-towels since they were the only linen available that would fit in the box. Nines came back and quietly knelt down beside Gavin. He swore he felt Gavin lean just a centimeter or two towards Nines but he didn’t overanalyze anymore than this situation being out of the emotional norm for Gavin. “This wasn’t how tonight was supposed to go.” Gavin mumbled as he stroked Mama’s forehead, trying to offer any type of reassurance he could to the cat who was quickly becoming exhausted. She was refusing water, even milk. She hadn’t had any liquids since Gavin got home. The veterinarian he was on the phone to earlier had said that it sounded like her organs were shutting down. They needed to get the last kitten out, even then, the chances of survival were slim. “This was not something you had any control over, Detective.” “I should have stayed home. Maybe seen that something was wrong earlier. I could’ve taken her to the vets. I could’ve done more than just sitting here waiting for her to fucking die.” Nines remained quiet. He could throw facts and statistics at Gavin, but the Detective would likely refuse to take them into consideration and would probably further upset Gavin, which was something he had no desire to do. Silence past by for a moments longer until Nines broke it with another question, “Is there anything else you’d like me to do?” As with every question he’s asked, he’s met with a moment’s silence before Gavin finally whispered one request. “Stay?” Nines watched as Gavin’s head dropped down in defeat before bloodshot eyes lifted to actually see Nines for the first time since opening the front door to him. “Please?” In all the history of ever knowing Gavin, Nines has never ever heard him use the word ‘please’.  If this didn’t send software instability errors his way, he didn’t know what will. “Of course, Detective.” Nines firmly stated, being the rock of reassurance that Gavin needed even though this was completely out of his depth of emotional response to this type of situation. He would have suggested calling Lieutenant Anderson over despite the Lieutenant owning a dog, he might still have far more of an insight to animal companions than Nines did. However, there were several factors to take into consideration, 1. Lieutenant Anderson was drinking himself into a stupor and would be of no help to them whatsoever. 2. There was a risk that Lieutenant Anderson would say the wrong thing and further upset Gavin. The night quietly dragged on. Nines fetching whatever Gavin needed without question or hesitation. The only sounds were the distressed mewling coming from Mama, and Gavin softly cooing to her, gently trying to hush her with reassurances. The mewling’s became louder and more distressed as the final kitten arrived and Mama took her last breath. “No.” Gavin’s whispered plea went ignored by whatever high power was out there as Mama Cat passed away from the blood loss and organ failure. However, the squeaky cry of a newborn kitten pulled Gavin out of his grief as he quickly scooped up the tiny being. Nines sprang into action as he grabbed the syringe that was filled with formula for the surviving kitten in place of its mothers milk, passing it over to Gavin who had the kitten wrapped in the last tea-towel he had (courtesy of Nines retrieving it earlier), Nines placed a towel over Mama in respect as Gavin tended to the kitten; who was the current priority despite all the tragedy that occurred. Not much transpired between Nines and Gavin. Gavin was more focused on the surviving kitten than anything, Nines was just the grounding support Gavin needed. Because, honestly, if Nines wasn’t here, Gavin wouldn’t have kept himself together as well as he did. For now, Nines sat down and watched in curiosity as Gavin attentively helped the kitten. He tried to coax it with the syringe to give it the nutrients it needs, he comforted the squeaky little cries, immediately hushing them with the softness of his voice. It’s amazing what a complete douche-head he is at the Precinct, yet he’s soft as a plush teddy bear right now. No doubt if anyone dared even breathe the wrong way towards the kitten, they’d find themselves staring down the barrel of a gun drawn by Gavin.

“What’s the matter?” Nines suddenly asked as he noticed Gavin frantically began looking around for something. “My phone. I can’t find it.” Nines had moved it from where Gavin had dropped it on the floor, to rest it upon the coffee table. Reaching over, Nines handed the phone over and he saw the distress resting back on Gavin’s features. “What is it Detective?” “She’s not eating anything.” Gavin said, holding the toweled bundle closer to his chest in protectiveness as his other hand was preoccupied in find the veterinarian’s number, luckily there was an afterhours number he could call for emergencies; it was the same number he called earlier when Nines showed up on his front door. Nines stood helplessly by as Gavin was frantic on the phone, the veterinarian managed to calm him down but Gavin steel repeated a few questions in hopes that something would change. “Fuck!” Nines LED flickered to red at the violent response as Gavin threw his phone in the corner, almost shattering the screen entirely. “Is there nothing more we can do for her?” Nines enquired, his LED spinning back down to yellow. “…No…Phk! Why is this happening?!” Nines didn’t have a logical answer to provide Gavin with, at least, none that would be comforting enough to the Detective. The next few hours wore on. Gavin switched between sitting down and trying to coax the kitten into taking some of the formula, to standing up and slowly pacing around the room, gently cooing to the small being that was still protectively wrapped up in a bundle. Nines offered to take over, give Gavin a break, but the Detective refused. It wasn’t until 6:30am, where the sky outside the window began lighting up and Gavin moved to stand by it, watching the sun rise. Nines eyes snapped up from staring at the table trying to figure out a way to entice the kitten to eat to beat the low survival percentile, when Gavin’s voice began a quiet melody. He swayed ever so softly with the kitten huddled close to his chest, softly singing an old song, “Here comes the sun, doo doo doo doo Here comes the sun, and I say …It’s alright.” And then he stopped swaying. He stopped singing. Nines quietly unfolded his legs that had been crossed over, and stood up, eyes trained on Gavin who hadn’t made a single move or sound. He slowly and quietly made his way over to the Detective and stood by him. He didn’t say a word as Gavin pulled the kitten from his chest, not saying a word but his quiet volumes spoke loudly to Nines. Slender fingers brushed over Gavin’s as he took the now deceased kitten from Gavin, allowing Gavin the time he needed to fully let go. A quick glance up at Gavin’s face allowed Nines to observe him momentarily. Gavin was broken. He was also the type that didn’t handle his emotions well. Especially when they were too raw for him to be able to hide behind his asshole sense of humor. So, when Nines finally held the bundle of towel with his own two hands, the breathy gasp emitted from Gavin didn’t escape Nines’ attention. “I’ll put her with her brothers.” Nines said quietly as he walked away to do just that. Gavin stood there; arms dropped to his sides as he glanced around the dimly lit room. It was quiet. Too quiet. No cats mewling, no cats walking around his ankles causing him to trip over into an unceremonious heap… within the space of a few hours, everything had been ripped from him. Torn from him. What did he do to deserve this?! Why him? Why!? Better yet, why did the universe decide to take Mama?! The pregnant cat, abandoned by her owners for bringing life into this world!? Why punish her!? And the innocent kittens who clearly weren’t even given a goddamn chance!? WHY!? “FUCK!!” The cry ripped through the deadly silence, yanking Nines back to reality as he just finished tucking the towel-come-makeshift-blanket around the last kitten. He strode back into the living room to see Gavin crouched in the middle of the living room, fists gripping his hair as his lungs struggled to breathe against the painful twist of the knife that seemed to enjoy repeatedly stabbing him in the heart where it hurts. LED flashing a dangerous red, Nines quickly found himself kneeling down on the ground once more, this time, in front of Gavin. Two strong hands wrapped themselves around the two fists that were gripping the head of brown hair. A sob tore from Gavin’s lips as he allowed Nines to pull his hands away. It was a heartbreaking scene that unfolded right before Nines’ eyes; it was something he never wanted to witness. The whimper that tore from Gavin before he screamed in such emotional agony that Nines stress levels peaked. A slender hand found the back of Gavin’s head and he pulled the Detective into his shoulder, the other hand holding Gavin protectively around the back of his shoulders. Body trembled beneath his embrace but it wasn’t rejected. Instead, Gavin’s hands swapped from gripping his own hair to gripping the front of Nines’ white jacket. His face buried in his shoulder after scream after scream of grief-filled pain spilled from his lips. Despite it being muffled against the material, it was still a sound Nines never wanted to hear. Nines barely spoke a word since first arriving at Gavin’s but he figured his colder tone was something Gavin didn’t need right now, nor his inept response to providing the correct source of verbal comfort in situations like this. Eventually, those screams had quietened down to sobs that violently engulfed Gavin’s body, but Nines continued to hold onto him since Gavin had no intention of letting him go. Nines is still understanding a lot of things, but he knew how important Mama was to Gavin. The day Gavin rescued Mama, he told Nines all about her and continued to update Nines on the progress Mama was making… “It wasn’t supposed to end like this.” “I know.” “It’s not fair.” “… I know.” Nines' voice had softened a great deal to the point where it was barely recognizable as Nines. However, his hold on Gavin still remained. Fingers cupped the back of Gavin’s head, lacing his fingers through the brown locks as he continued to hold Gavin for as long as he needed the physical comfort. Nines had to admit, even he wasn’t prepared for the turn of events tonight. He wasn’t even prepared to see Gavin in such emotional distress. In fact, he never took it into consideration whether the Detective could even be broken like that. “Stay. Please? God, just stay. Don’t… Don’t leave. Don’t fucking leave me too.” “I had no intention of leaving.” Gavin had lost a lot within the past few hours. Nines had no intention of leaving him alone. He had fully intended to stay until Gavin was alright. If that took hours, days, weeks even… Feeling Gavin shift slightly beneath him, ever so slightly relaxing against Nines’ frame, Nines’ slender fingers gripped Gavin just a little bit more protectively. He'll stay.  

[blackmarvelfics]

Face to Face

Warning: uhhh underaged drinking. 

Pairing: Peter Parker X Darkskinned!PlusSize!Reader

Words: 1.4k

Context: Reader meets Peter for the first time...twice

It was the start of a new era for you. A new chapter of your life. College.

Now you knew that going to NYU was a big deal. It was your top school. You somehow got in with a scholarship. Now it was freshman week and you had spent the first day getting your things in your dorm room. By night time, you were getting bored. Your roommate was luckily a friend from your hometown, Annika. She was a blunt girl who loved to be with friends and making new ones.

“Yo (Y/N), There’s a freshman kickback tonight. You gotta come.” Annika gushed, she was already getting dressed and you sat up on your bed, looking at her before giggling

“You’re already getting dressed. If I say yes, you can’t leave me.” You laughed and stood up, going to the closet.

“I won’t. Let me pick your outfit!”

“Annika. You better pick something that looks good on me.” you sighed and started on your makeup. Annika dropped a bright yellow bodycon dress and an oversized black denim jacket on your bed.

“Boom. you gon look bomb.” Annika clapped and walked to the vanity.

You didn’t even argue and you put the clothes on. You stood in front of the full mirror and you were looking at your body. Being Plus sized had its perks but sometimes you felt self conscious.

“(Y/N), I know that look. Don’t overanalyze. You look beautiful. Now put your wig on because your cornrows are sending me.” Annika tried to stifle the giggle that threatened to come out as she looked at your head.

“Shut up.” You rolled your eyes and smiled before picking up the black bob off your mannequin head and put it on.

“Time to go!” Annika squealed and grabbed her clutch and walked out.

The NYU bus picked the two of you up and you were dropped off at bus stop about a block away from the party. While walking to the party, you started to feel nervous. New people. First Impressions. It was all getting overwhelming just to think about.

“(Y/N), if i see that face one more time. I’m gunna beat your ass.” Annika brought you out of your thoughts. It made you smile. “You’re with me. You gon’ be good.” Annika smiled and you walked up to the party venue. Which was a small house. You and annika both got in free because you were girls. As soon as you got in, you smelt weed. The house was packed with underclassmen freshmen and sophomores alike.

“I’m going to get us drinks. Come with me!” Annika yelled in your ear over the music. You followed her into the kitchen and though it was dark, she was able to get two solo cups of some unknown drink.

“Thank you.” you yelled to her and started sipping. After a while, you started to feel yourself loosen up. Annika was tipsy but you were buzzed, You started to move your way into the crowd, grinding on unknown men, women. You didn’t really know. All you do know is that Annika was screaming, trying to hype you up. You continue to grind on whoever it was behind you until you heard more cheers.

“Yeaaaaah Peter!” Different people were yelling. Holding onto Annika, you threw your ass back like your life depended on it and you bit your lip as you felt the mysterious boy catching it and even giving some back. You looked back to see a white boy looking down at your ass and holding your hips. He was surrounded by many other boys, hyping him up and holding him up as well.

The song was over and you both decided to sit on the couch. Throwing ass takes a lot out of a person.

“(Y/N), You know you took the soul out of poor whitie.” Annika yelled over the music and you laughed, hitting her shoulder.

“Annika shut up!” you both laughed before taking her hand and squirming past groups of people to head into the bathroom.

“(Y/N) what are we doing in here?” she asked, obviously confused.

“Taking pictures….duh.” You giggled and took your phone out, you wanted to document this night. You two took as many pictures and videos as you could in the bathroom. Though the house was cramped and sweaty, you both still look beautiful.

More hours past and it was almost 3 AM. You go to Annika and see that she’s talking with this boy. “Annika.” You whined, you were getting sleepy and you were over the party. “I’m tired.” you tugged on her arm like a child.

“Give me one second. We’ll go back to the dorm. Just give me a few minutes.” Annika yelled into your ear.

“Fine...I’m going outside. It’s stuffy in here.” You huffed and walked outside. It was much cooler outside so you just stood on the patio, waiting for Annika to come out. You walked back and forth on the patio for what felt like an hour until Annika finally came out.

“Finally!” you groaned and you looked behind her to see a boy coming out with her. He was holding her hand and you looked up at Annika with a raised eyebrow.

“This is Grant. He’s giving us a ride home.” Annika beamed at you. You just go with it. it was a good thing since you didn’t have to pay for an uber. You both get to the dorm safely and you see the two of them still talking as you get to the door. You roll your eyes and chuckle. “Annika!” you bark at her and gesture to the door. You finally get upstairs and flop on your bed. This is only one night of many more.

Freshman week goes on and you make many many more friends. It’s nice that you could meet new people and befriend them quickly.

Eventually the first day of actual classes came and you were pretty nervous but you tried to put on a straight face as you got dressed in the morning. Yes, you took a morning class. You were on your way via bus and you texted Annika since she was still sleeping.

About 5 minutes later, you get to the lecture hall. Going into the Math lecture hall, you chuckle to yourself as you see the classroom not being as big as you imagined. You sighed and sat in a seat. The classroom started to fill up and you felt someone sit right next to you. You look over and see a white boy. He looked quite nervous. Maybe that was just his face. You decided to talk to him first.

“Hi...i’m (Y/N).” you smiled over to him. He seemed to tense up even more.

“I’m Peter.” He looked over to you and flashed a small smile.

Peter… that name sounded familiar. You laughed and looked at him, taking a good look at him.

“Do I know you?” you asked, smiling stupidly at him.

“No...n-not that i know of.” he stuttered, looking at you.

“Hmmph...weird.” The class starts and you two get to work. About halfway through the class, it dawned on you. He was the boy from the party. No wonder he looked so tense. You giggled and continued your notes.

Class was finally over and you start to pack up your stuff.

“Peter right?”

“Yeah.” he put his backpack on and looked at you. You were scribbling something stuff onto a small sheet of paper.

“Call me sometime hmm?” you handed him the paper and he looked at you with a surprised expression. “I want a repeat of last week.” You giggled when you saw his face begin to get red. He knew who you were.

“I…Y-You... uhhhh...okay….” He stuttered before turning on his heels and quickly walking out of the classroom.

You smile and start to pack up your stuff, heading back to your dorm. On your way back, you hear your phone ding. You take it out and it’s a text from an unknown number.

“Hi (Y/N). This is Peter. I really hope this is the right number.”

You smiled and texted back “it certainly is. Hi Peter.”

“Um. Would you wanna come get coffee with me or something? I would really like to get to know you. Face to face this time.”

“Of course… Face to face.”  

a/n: This was my first request hehe. i really deviated from the prompt but I really hope you still like it! i had a really good time writing it!

[thejokervaleska]

3. crawling back to you

Pairing: The Joker (Ledger) x Reader Rating: M Words: 2730 Requested by: @nicolesyneah25

PART ONE / PART TWO / PART FOUR

So have you got the guts? Been wondering if your heart’s still open and if so I wanna know what time it shuts Simmer down and pucker up, I’m sorry to interrupt It’s just I’m constantly on the cusp of trying to kiss to you I don’t know if you feel the same as I do but we could be together if you wanted to

Following your little encounter in the bathroom, you didn’t see the Joker for the rest of the night. That probably meant the call he received had been important and he was out “working” but you amused yourself with the idea that he might be hiding from you, sheepish and disconcerted by something as simple as a kiss. You waited up for him just in case but fell asleep alone sometime before the sun came up.

It was well into the next afternoon by the time you woke up. Fully expecting the place to be abandoned, you were surprised when the smell of greasy, delicious pizza hit you the moment you opened the bedroom door. Driven by your growling stomach, you followed your nose to the kitchen table where the clowns were gathered in deep discussion. Their boss, however, was noticeably absent.

Wandering over, you stole a piece of their pizza and hopped up on the counter, keeping your distance from the boys but keeping an eye on them all the same. You hadn’t really gotten to know any of them yet but they all seemed somewhat less stable than the Joker, which was quite an accomplishment.

One of them, a young, scrawny guy with dark, floppy hair, was standing slightly apart from the rest of the group. You could feel him watching you intently as you ate and wanted to roll your eyes. He must be truly desperate for some action if he thought you looked attractive while scarfing down a giant slice of pepperoni pizza in what passed for your pajamas these days – one of the Joker’s oversized undershirts and a pair of his baggy black sweatpants.

Sure enough, when your eyes met his, he swaggered over in a way that was probably meant to be sexy.

“Hey there, gorgeous,” he said, giving you a smile as he slouched against the counter beside you. “I’m Danny. I don’t think I ever caught your name?”

Sighing, you told him, “It’s Y/N.”

“Well, it’s good to see you out and about, Y/N. You spend too much time locked up in that bedroom.” You frowned at him, unsure of how to reply to that, but clearly he wasn’t waiting on any kind of answer. “Some of the guys think you’ve got something going on with the boss but I don’t believe it. I keep telling ‘em, you’re too pretty for that.”

Oh, he doesn’t know, you thought and then asked yourself, wait, he doesn’t know what? That you and the Joker were “a thing”? Were you a thing? He was, after all, your sort-of  kidnapper and you’d only kissed him one time. That didn’t exactly make you his girl. In fact, the idea was laughable. Here you were, overanalyzing the whole thing, and he probably hadn’t thought twice about the kiss.

After a moment though, Danny’s words sank in and you were immediately offended on the Joker’s behalf. “Wait, I’m too pretty for what?”

“You know…messing around with a freak like that.” He leaned a little closer and, in a conspiratorial tone, said, “Between you and me, most of these guys are off their fucking rockers but none of them are as crazy as he is.”

You raised a brow. “I’m guessing you wouldn’t say that to his face.”

He scoffed. “Oh, come on. He’s not half as scary as everybody seems to think he is.”

Fighting a smile, you told him, “You must be very brave.”

He shrugged, looking smug. “I know Krav Maga. Nothing scares me, baby.”

“I see.”

Obviously thinking he had you hooked, he started trying to reel you in. “Hey, why don’t we ditch these bozos and go somewhere more quiet. Where we can…talk.”

He was leering at you, standing much too close for comfort. The clowns at the table burst out laughing at something and at that same moment, to your relief, the front door opened. Because you happened to be facing it, you were the only one who saw the Joker walk in. You were the only one who saw his black eyes scanning the room and then landing on you or, more specifically, on Danny.

And that was when poor Danny decided to make his move. He put his clammy hand on your thigh and leaned even closer to say something you didn’t quite catch. You looked down for a moment, pushing his hand away, and when you looked up again, the Joker was standing directly behind him.

Your breath caught in your throat, a wave of nervous excitement rushing through you when you saw the look in his eyes. As Danny turned to follow your gaze, the Joker grabbed him by his long hair and in one quick, effortless movement, he slammed your new friend’s head into the edge of the counter.

The sound of his skull bouncing off the unforgiving surface was sickening. When Danny let out a strangled, shocked sound, the Joker did it again and again until the guy went limp and collapsed in a heap on the floor. Around you, the room was suddenly as still and as quiet as the grave.

With a disappointed little hum, the Joker dusted off his gloved hands and looked up at you. Something about the set of his jaw reminded you of a stubborn kid who’d been forced into sharing his favorite toy and, as you looked from his face down to Danny, the “Krav Maga expert”, you started laughing. It sounded wild and slightly unhinged but you couldn’t stop.

The Joker looked puzzled by your reaction at first but then something seemed to click and his face split into a brilliant smile that tugged sharply at something in the vicinity of your heart. He patted your cheek roughly, not quite a slap but not quite a caress, and winked at you before walking over to talk to the still-stunned henchmen.

As you stared after him, you thought to yourself, oh, I am so screwed.

Before he left the hideout, the Joker told you vaguely about his plan – something involving a semi truck and Harvey Dent. But honestly, you were just watching the adorable way he bounced on the balls of his feet and rubbed his hands together as he spoke, so obviously excited about what was to come.

You heard the front door open around 2 am and, when the Joker didn’t come storming in the bedroom, you poked your head out to find James and a few other clowns licking their wounds in the kitchen. Their mood was subdued.

Leaning against the doorway, you asked, “Where is he?”

They all turned to look at you as James said, “He’s locked up in the MCU as far as I know.”

Your jaw dropped. “What?”

“Don’t worry, it’s part of the plan.” James sighed. “Apparently.”

You were still awake hours later when the bedroom door squeaked open.

In the odd blue light of early morning, you could tell the Joker looked a little worse for wear. He was shrugging his shoulders and rolling his neck like he was in some sort of pain and his face paint was almost entirely worn off. You watched as he shed his vest, his tie, and then his shirt, before falling into the bed beside you with a heavy sigh.

“Are you okay?” you asked him quietly.

“Mmm,” was his only reply.

You turned over on your side to face him, your eyes sweeping over him as you looked for some sign of visible injury. You couldn’t see any blood, which was surprising. Maybe he was just tense?

“Want me to rub your back?” you asked, feeling a little uncertain. You weren’t sure why you were suddenly feeling nervous around him but you thought it might have something to do with your little epiphany in the kitchen earlier. “You seem like you’re hurting.”

He didn’t answer you but, after a few moments, he rolled over onto his stomach. Taking that as a yes, you shifted onto your knees and knelt beside him on the bed. Looking down at his back, you saw it was a map of old scars. The bandage you’d placed on his shoulder was still holding on but would need to be replaced soon.

He tensed when you reached out to touch him but, when he didn’t pull away, you started kneading the knots in his shoulders, encouraged when he buried his face in the pillow and groaned, long and low. After sweeping his limp curls out of the way, you moved on to his neck and he tilted his head forward obligingly, allowing you to really work the tension out of him.

When he exhaled slowly, his muscles relaxing under your hands, you felt warm all over. The fact that he trusted you enough to let his guard down like this in front of you had to mean something.

Emboldened by the darkness, you leaned down and pressed a kiss between his shoulder blades, then another on the back of his neck, where his skin was unbearably hot. You were running your fingers through his hair, lightly scratching your fingernails along his scalp, when he turned his head and cracked one eye open to look up at you. You paused, thinking maybe you’d crossed some sort of line, but then he rolled over onto his back and grabbed you by the elbow, dragging you down on top of him.

Settling yourself more comfortably on top of him and straddling his narrow hips, you grinned at him. “Alright, Joker, you’re gonna have to kiss me this time. I made the first move last-.”

Before you could finish, he grabbed your face with both hands and pulled you down to kiss you. The moment his mouth touched yours, you were hit with that same dangerous, electric spark you’d felt the first time.

What was left of his paint was slippery against your lips and tasted strange, sort of waxy like lipstick. It should’ve been a turnoff  but you were so far gone that it only added to your excitement. When his tongue slid along your bottom lip, you opened your mouth to him with a soft moan.

The heat of his skin was addictive. You ran your hands down his bare chest, over his flat stomach, where you could feel the muscles tightening at your touch, and then up to his neck. Under your fingertips, you could feel his pulse fluttering. Breaking the kiss to trail your lips down his jaw line, you dragged your tongue over the thin skin stretched above the throbbing beat before leaving a nice little bruise you knew you would enjoy looking at later.

When his hands settled on your hips, squeezing hard, you realized you’d been rocking subtly but steadily against him. Under you now, you could feel him growing hard in response.

“Well, what do you know,” you said, more amused by this completely human side of him than perhaps you should’ve been, “you are just a man, after all.”

He scoffed at that and then, quite suddenly, rolled the two of you over so he was the one on top. Unlike most guys, he didn’t seem concerned about crushing you. His weight settled over you, pinning you to the mattress and stealing your breath as his lips found yours again.

Lost in the kiss, in the heat, in the novelty of it all, you barely noticed that he was undressing you and sliding off his own pants. But when he slid his hand between your thighs, just a curious finger to see if you were ready for him, you jerked back to awareness. Opening your eyes, you found his were already open as he kissed you.

He was hard as a rock against you, but there was no real urgency in the way he touched you. It was refreshing to be with a man who seemed to be just enjoying the feel of your body rather than racing towards the finish line.

You, however, needed him desperately. You were aching for him. Wrapping your arms around him, you urged him closer and when he raised his brows, you answered the question he hadn’t asked. “Yes. Please.”

He shifted above you and a moment later, you shivered as you felt him pressing into you, inch by inch. When his hips were finally settled against yours, he groaned against your lips. You held him close, rubbing your hands up and down his back as you tried to steady your breathing.

He gave you a moment to adjust, which was surprisingly considerate of him, before he started to move. As he thrust against you, you threw your head back on a silent cry, your eyes slipping closed.

He spoke, then, for the first time, his voice hoarse as he told you, “Look at me.”

You obeyed, your breath catching as you found him watching you, his black eyes darting back and forth over your features. He was studying you openly, taking in every small expression that crossed your face, and it felt like he was staring right through you, like he was laying your soul bare and seeing everything, especially the things you wanted to hide.

The first sting of tears pricked your eyes and, embarrassed by your reaction, you quickly turned your face away. But it was too late, he’d already noticed. He grabbed you by the jaw, forcing you to turn your head and look him in the eyes once more.

The tears spilled over then, slipping down your cheeks. If it bothered him, he didn’t show it. He didn’t miss a beat, watching solemnly as you fought to regain control of yourself.

“I’m sorry-” you started, your voice shaky, but he cut you off.

“Shh,” he hissed, dipping his head and catching you completely off guard as he licked one of the tears off your face.

It was so weird, so out of the blue, that you couldn’t help but giggle half-hysterically. Looking down at you, a smile tugged at his scarred lips. He hid it by burying his face in the crook of your neck, biting down almost viciously as he picked up his pace considerably, forcing you back into the present.

After that, it didn’t take long. You knew he was close when his rhythm turned erratic but your own release came as a surprise. When he lifted his head to kiss you almost frantically, his tongue sweeping into your mouth like he needed to taste you, the pleasure swept over you unexpectedly and carried you away. You held onto him as he finished quietly with his hands tangled in your hair and lips on yours.

You were still drifting back down to Earth when he rolled off of you and onto his back, wiping the sweat from his forehead. You could suddenly breathe normally again but your body was cold, bereft without his heat. As he tried to catch his breath, you stared over at him, wondering how he would react if you tried to cuddle up to his side.

After a moment, he seemed to feel you looking at him. He glanced over and heaved a sigh, obviously reading your thoughts. Despite his seeming reluctance, you couldn’t help but be touched when he moved his arm to make room for you to lay your head down on his chest.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” you told him after a while, breaking the silence. “I wasn’t sure what to think when James told me you got arrested.”

Rolling his eyes, he muttered, “Don’t tell me you were worried about me.”

“Well, yeah…”

He sneered at that. “Well, isn’t that sweet.”

You had the sudden, childish urge to stick your tongue out at him but settled for smacking him on the chest instead. “Don’t be an ass.”

You felt a sharp tug on your hair, forcing you to look up at him. “Don’t ah, don’t tell me what to do.”

As you thought about who this man lying beside you was and what he’d done, what the two of you had done together, you couldn’t help but smile. Once again, he seemed a bit thrown by your reaction, like he’d expected it to be something else, but after a few seconds, he grinned back at you.

You fell asleep wrapped up in his warmth, the smell of his skin, and the now-familiar feeling of his fingers playing with your hair.

[from-the-clouds]

Something To Believe In - Chapter 8: Composure (A Poe Dameron x OC Fic)

While I will try to post the full story on here, you can find the rest of it on AO3 and FanFiction.net. Leave me a comment or review!

Story Summary: Her whole life, Kyra has felt a call to something greater. She joins The Resistance to flee from a life that wasn’t her own. Content with her low-profile job within the medical corps, General Organa assigns her to work with Black Squadron. When Kyra meets Commander Poe Dameron, he helps her discover what she is capable of. Takes place before/during TFA, slow-burn Poe/OC

Chapter Summary: Kyra’s meets with Poe and General Organa about where she suspects Lor San Tekka may be in hiding.

Chapter Word Count: 2,014

Warnings: None

It’s been awhile since I posted anything, but I am still accepting requests for imagines, so drop into my inbox! It’s been a rough semester, so I haven’t had a ton of free time. As always, please let me know what you are thinking. Give me reviews and comments please!

Biting her lower lip, Kyra crossed and uncrossed her legs. She leaned forward in the chair she sat on outside of The General's office, and shook her foot so aggressively her whole leg was quaking. Her mind was running a thousand miles a minute, as she contemplated every way the conversation could possibly go. Successfully, she'd managed to script out her whole pitch the General Organa, but she was having trouble deciding what to say based on the woman's response, so she started with the worse case scenarios, thinking through her possible responses.

To Kyra's surprise, she was distracted by the tornado of thoughts running through her head by the man sitting next to her. "Hey," Poe reached out and grabbed her bouncing foot, halting it's movements. "Relax," he murmured. He sat beside her, calm and even-tempered as usual, and Kyra found herself admiring his confidence. Though, he had an upper hand, he interacted with The General on a daily basis...she trusted and depended on him. Commander Dameron.

"You make it sound a lot simpler than it really is," Kyra shot back, raising an eyebrow, but kept her tone playful. She wasn't interested in letting Poe know how scared she really was. "Plus, she loves you."

"She does not love me," Poe released Kyra's foot, elbowing her gently, and she resisted the urge to start tapping it again, deciding it was best to play it cool.

"That's debatable," Kyra shifted herself, so she was oriented towards him. Maybe if she sat close enough she could feed off some of his composed energy. She stared at him a moment, tousled dark curled that had been combed away from his face, which stared straight ahead in relaxed concentration.

Poe scoffed at her remark and tilted his head towards her, meeting her eyes. "Come on, Kyra. You've got this. I believe in you, and if you mess up, I'm going to be right there with you," he said, squeezing her shoulder tenderly. Kyra remembered the first time she'd flown in Black One, he'd given her the same reassuring touch. Poe's disposition was perfectly suited for his position, she thought. There were few people who could bring her the same sort of self-assurance he had. Her grandmother was the only other person she could think of. "I've got your back."

Kyra had to bite her tongue from sarcastically quipping back a playful remark, but instead she just gave him a small smile and nodded. "Thank you."

As if the end of their conversation was a cue, the door to The General's office opened up. Kyra had noticed she rarely spent time in the space, preferred to have debriefings or meetings in the control room. It wasn't uncommon to see her walking around the Resistance Base, patrolling and keeping an eye on things. She did a good job of creating a presence, and letting others know the importance of their cause.

Kyra swallowed hard and tried to channel as much peace as she could in the few moments between the time where a few officers moved out of her office and when she and Poe would be called in. In that instant, she cleared her mind as best as she could, closing her eyes and breathing deeply.

"Dr. Juun, Commander Dameron?" Kyra's eyes opened at the sound of The General's voice, but she realized suddenly her nerves were gone. It was as if something had consumed her, there was a change in the atmosphere, and when her eyes met Organa's, she suddenly wasn't worried anymore.

Exchanging a quick sideways glance with Poe, she rose from her seat and followed the woman into the office, Poe raising a hand to comfortingly tap her lower back as they passed through the threshold. Despite her surge of confidence, Kyra was still glad Poe was there.

General Organa did not take a seat behind the sleek wooden desk in the center of the room, rather, she walked towards the large windows that offered a view to the hangars below. There were very few rooms with windows in the Resistance Base. Many quarters were located underground, and Kyra's was no exception. She had to admit the scene below her was striking, satisfying almost. Kyra had never seen anything like it.

"Are the both of you recovering well from your mission yesterday?" The General asked, turning to face Poe and Kyra. Kyra wasn't sure whether to sit or remain standing, eyeing the chairs in front of the woman's large desk.

Kyra nodded, noticing that Poe did the same.

"Dr. Juun," the General Organa began, glancing at Kyra. "Commander Dameron has already spoken with me to arrange this meeting, and he said you might have an idea of where Lor San Tekka is."

Kyra inhaled, nodding. "Yes, I don't-" she paused, clearing her throat. "Well, I don't think it's necessarily where he is for sure, it's just a thought, something one of The Creche said to me." She glanced over at Poe, who nodded, prompting her to continue.

"She said he only took jackets, coats...warm clothes when he left, and abandoned his other items," As she spoke, Kyra felt her confidence increase. "I thought it might mean he knew where he was going before he left...and that he was going somewhere cold. Poe told me there used to be a Rebel Alliance base on Hoth. I know he had strong ties to the Alliance...is there still a presence there...a place he'd be comfortable staying?"

General Organa pondered for a moment, her silence making Kyra uneasy again. "Hoth is a very desolate place..." General Organa stated. "But I do believe there's a village close to the abandoned base...where most of the residents are veterans of the Alliance..." Kyra felt her reach out inwardly, like she was trying to get ahold of something, someone, but couldn't. Then she was blocked out, and felt nothing. A dizziness overcame Kyra, and she paused, sitting down in the chair across from the abandoned desk. Poe looked over at her, his brow knit together in concern.

"That's a real possibility," The General agreed finally, and Kyra felt her energy return. She rose tentatively. "Of course, I'll have to figure out the logistics of the mission, but I think that's our next best lead."

Kyra smiled slightly, nodding.

The General turned to Poe. "I don't think we can afford to send out the entire squadron, just you. But I don't anticipate you'll run into any issues," The General turned back to Kyra. "Thank you Dr. Juun, your insight was very helpful. You may return to work now."

Kyra was a bit taken aback by the quick dismissal, and disappointed that she wouldn't be attending the mission, despite being the one to make it happen in the first place. But she nodded, trying her best to force appreciation and a smile through her features. "Not a problem, thank you," she managed before stepping out of the office, closing the door behind her.

Kyra considered waiting for Poe, who was still in the office, in a private meeting with General Organa, but she knew he'd probably be in there for hours. She knew she should be happy to have this recognition, to be acknowledged, but it still wasn't enough. What did she even want? Shaking her head, she straightened up from the wall she'd been leaning against to think and began making her way down the hallway. For once, she had a day off, but she wasn't excited about it now, since she knew she'd just spend it overanalyzing the exchange that had occurred.

Tears threatened to spill from her eyes as she walked away and she scolded herself. It was childish. This wasn't personal, just how things worked in The Resistance. She paused for a moment, place her hand on the wall of the corridor she stood at, grounding herself. Footsteps behind her forced her to straighten up.

"Kyra," she heard Poe's voice. Turning around, she forced an easygoing smile as he jogged towards her. On his face was a wide grin, ignorant to her hurt feelings, but that made her relieved. She never wanted him to see her like this.

"Hey," she managed between clenched teeth and was surprised when Poe embraced her tightly. The touch startled Kyra at first, she couldn't even remember the last time someone had hugged her, but she relaxed after a moment, surprised how comforting it felt. Again, she felt tears prick the back of her eyes, embarrassed by her absurdity. She should be happy.

"You did amazing," he chuckled, his voice in her ear. before he pulled away. "That was awesome."

"Thank you," Kyra said lightly, meeting his eyes as he pulled away, his right hand still resting on her shoulder. She watched his features fall as he saw her face.

"Are you alright?" He asked, squeezing her shoulder lightly.

Kyra smiled. "I'm fine, just relieved."

Poe nodded, and she could tell he was dubious at her response, but he made the right choice by not pressing the issue any further. "You did great," he repeated. "See? There was no reason to be nervous."

"I still think I was allowed to be a little nervous," Kyra pushed aside her feelings to tease him.

Poe smirked slightly, then grew serious. "I'm really proud of you, Kyra."

Scoffing, she felt her cheeks redden, his hand that still rested on her shoulder radiated heat throughout her body and she realized how close his face was to hers, giving her a better view of the crows feet around his eyes and the stubble that covered his sharp jawline. "Well, thanks." She instinctively stepped away from him to clear her mind.

"So, are you ready for tomorrow then?" he asked, finally pulling his hand away and leaning against the wall next to them.

"Yeah, I'm ready," she murmured absentmindedly before thinking. "For training, you mean?"

"No," Poe smirked. "For the mission."

"What?" Kyra straightened up.

"My apologies, I guess General Organa never gave you the date when you were in her office." Poe rubbed his cheek with his right hand. "Yeah, we leave tomorrow morning."

"We? I thought Black Squadron wasn't coming," Kyra's eyebrows knit together in confusion. "I thought it was just you and BB-8."

"It's not Black Squadron, it's you and I," Poe explained. "Tomorrow."

Kyra laughed nervously, still a bit confused. General Organa had made it sound like it was just going to be Poe, and that she wasn't going to be included on the mission. That was why she had left in such a hurry, after all. Now she just felt even more foolish. "Yeah, I'm sorry, I was a little confused."

"So will you be ready then?" Poe inquired.

"Of course," Kyra nodded. "I will be ready."

Poe smiled, rapping his knuckles against the wall. "Great. Bring a coat. I'll see you tomorrow morning."

After quickly saying goodbye, he retreated down the hallway, leaving Kyra standing alone in the empty corridor. Biting her lip, Kyra smiled to herself. She had shifts to work tonight and tomorrow morning, but she knew her supervising officer would help her in switching them around to accommodate her. The General's orders held more clout than the medical bay's schedule.

So she had made an impression, and this wasn't just Poe lying to her to be nice. These were her next steps. She just had to take it a day at a time.