#you say trust issues i say it's perfectly normal to live knowing you can never know what a person really thinks and plans

[mishkakagehishka]

Because horror writers write about what scares them the most, and one of my fears is actually trusting a person so much that i wish to marry them only for it to turn out that i've misjudged them and got myself stuck in a situation i can't really get out of.

And so, soulmate aus with a dash of horror, childhood friends tied with yand, etc etc etc. Yand in general, even, but that's just because the whole thing is naturally terrifying to most, i'd say.

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt behind the cut: YJ accidental baby acquisition. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“Genetically, Kenley is our offspring,” Tim cuts in quickly, keeping his voice as even as possible. “The DNA test was clear. And they’re a child. They can’t just stay at the Tower or on the Watchtower.” 

“Impulse is technically seven, and Superboy is–what, five?” Barry says, looking exasperated. Kon’s still a few months away from four, actually, given the whole “was dead for a year” thing and some other weird shit that’s happened in their lives–they actually did the math pretty recently, but the fact that they had to do the math at all is very obviously a sign of weird shit happening in their lives, and either way, Tim won’t be correcting Barry’s math right now. “And you and Wonder Girl are what–seventeen?” 

Speaking of people who were dead for a while and lost track of shit . . . 

“I’m nineteen,” Cassie says, narrowing her eyes at Barry. “And Robin’s eighteen. No ‘technically’ about it.” 

“Physiologically and mentally, Impulse is seventeen and Superboy is nineteen,” Tim informs them shortly before anyone can try and make the technicalities an issue. “It’s unreasonable to treat them as capable of risking their lives as active superheroes after they’ve both already died in the line of duty but then claim they’re not capable of basic childcare when you think it’s inconvenient for them to be allowed to.” 

“Also you’re not allowing anything,” Bart says with a frown. “Kenley’s ours. Genetically and, like, ‘found and saved’-ly.” 

“Bart, you have no idea how difficult taking care of even a normal kid is. Assuming the kid’s safe, an actual foster situation is going to be necessary,” Barry says in exasperation, sounding weary, and Wally looks a little stressed too, which is not good. Wally’s the best chance they have to get the League at large not to be unreasonable about this–at least as long as Dick’s here, anyway–but he and Bart have never really seen eye to eye and he’s never really understood him or taken him seriously, so . . . 

Also, Wally’s the one who has the most experience with having superpowered kids in this conversation, and with nearly losing said kids. If anyone’s going to be the one they can get on their side, well– 

Technically, Tim is perfectly aware of Jon Kent’s existence and the fact that he has superpowers and was also temporarily “lost”. He’s equally aware of both Otho and Osul’s existences and past traumas and own powers. 

He is even more aware of the fact that Clark apparently didn’t know about Lophi and Martha and has never fucking once trusted Kon to be responsible for anything but a dog who was already invulnerable and indestructible and that he just personally happened to need a long-term petsitter for. Which might be unfair, a little, but is also objective fact. 

So yes, Wally is definitely their best shot here. Especially with Dick hopefully willing to back them up, if it comes to it. If he weighs in too quickly, Bruce will think he’s either biased or being too emotional, but if they can at least start to convince Wally and maybe Diana . . . 

“What do you expect us to do, just dump ‘em on Max Mercury or Red Tornado? Go see who’s the Spectre right now?” Cassie demands, folding her arms. “Go dig up Cadmus wherever they’re currently buried, see if they’re hiring kindergartners? Hey, I know, ship ‘em off to Hawaii with a sleazy–!” 

“Kenley doesn’t need fostered,” Tim cuts in quickly, because that line of conversation is not ending well no matter what. “We’re their biological parents, and we’re capable of taking care of them to an appropriate standard.” 

“That isn’t an acceptable decision for Young Justice to make without input,” Bruce says. 

“What is this, a superhero-CPS visit?!” Cassie snaps, clenching her fists. “Based on what, exactly? They’re ours! What’s not ‘acceptable’ is for the Justice League to decide you all get to make decisions about our fucking kid!” 

“Also, like, super hypocritical, I’m pretty sure,” Bart says. “Nobody interferes with what any of you guys do with your kids.” 

“None of us just kidnapped a kid straight out of a lab, Impulse!” Barry says in exasperation. 

“That’d be way too, like, actively proactive, yeah,” Bart agrees, and for just an instant vibrates in a very telling way. His expression doesn’t change, but he’s obviously angry. Very obviously angry. 

Maybe not obviously to Barry, though, Tim realizes almost immediately. 

“Being patient enough to show restraint isn’t a character flaw, kid,” Barry says, still clearly exasperated. 

“You’re being a sprocking nass about this,” Bart says, still staring at him with the same blank expression. “And also a fucking asshole.” 

Well, this is going well. 

“We’re just concerned about everyone’s safety, including the child’s,” Clark says, lifting a placating hand. Bart scowls, and Cassie bristles. Kon–doesn’t look away from Kenley. 

Tim just doesn’t feel particularly “placated”, put it that way.

[endlessburningdarkness]

That "perfect victim" post you reposted has me all fucked up because it makes me think about Shen Jiu, and how his treated.

His a victim of severe trauma, and it manifests in ways that are "imperfect." It always pissess me off when people say, "if only Shen Jiu had tried. " Tried what? Get over his trauma? It's hard to do when A) there is no therapy and you have no real support system. B) The people around you don't give a shit and are hostile. And C) the before mention people make the trauma worse by making you feel unsafe or invalidating you. Try to get along with his martial siblings? He tried, but every time he did, it backfired and made everything worse for himself. He tried to save Liu Qingge's life twice, only to end up getting accused of murder each time. Try to be kinder? He tried with Ning Yingying, only to be accused of grooming her because of one of his coping mechanisms.

It was never about Shen Jiu not wanting to get better but that he couldn't.

What makes it all the more fucked up is how everyone treats Shen Yuan compared to Shen Jiu. SY acts "normal" because he has no trauma, so his liked. The peak lords would rather deal with someone "normal" than a victim and their trauma. Even Yue Qingyuan seems it easier to deal with a Shen Qingqiu who doesn't know him than one that does and actually dealing with the trauma.

And ain't that fucked up.

it is incredibly fucked up.

I love Shen Jiu (and Harry) because they are rare examples of imperfect victims. Because most victims, shockingly, are not perfect. Trauma rarely makes you a better person. In fact, more likely, it will make you angry, difficult, bitter and even cruel.

I find this type of character much more relatable and realistic than "perfect victims" who are sweet and kind and forgiving and let things go and are never ugly, hurtful or vicious in their trauma response. I think it really comes down to the idea that trauma isn't some fun thing you can brush off, you can't be normal after significant trauma. It will leave a mark, it will change you, sometimes permanently, sometimes in ways that are embarrassing and frightening and unattractive. Sometimes, you'll do awful, hurtful things to cope.

And I think that's fine. It's fine for Shen Jiu to be traumatized. In a way that isn't palatable to the reader or to society. It makes sense for him to be the way that he is. After the life he's lived, he is still shockingly kind to a number of people and as you've noted this backfires on him spectacularly. He had no parents. No one to teach him healthy ways of doing anything. He was enslaved, treated like an object, a dog, and then he was betrayed by the one person he thought was on his side. Anyone would be fucked up after that. Anyone would give up trying to be better. And that's fine too.

I think it's hard for people to face that trauma, real trauma that is, isn't this pretty, enticing thing which makes someone cooler, but genuinely painful, damaging, and difficult to overcome. That is what makes Shen Jiu's and Harry's attempts to overcome their trauma so damn impressive and compelling. That Shen Jiu fails is not due to some inherent flaw or weakness on his part but because it's so fucking difficult, even with support, to recover from the awful things that happened to him.

Often traumatized characters are expected to react perfectly, and a lot of fanfic of them is all about hashing out the ways they would overcome their trauma in an ideal way and become "normal", happy, well-adjusted people we can enjoy without feeling bad. For example, character's with sexual trauma magically overcome it by getting fucked by the right person.

And this is exactly why Shen Yuan is easier for the other characters and the fandom to love. He doesn't have Shen Jiu's baggage, he isn't damaged, he doesn't have trust issues or paranoia or jealously or hatred. He doesn't have the trauma. It's easy to be good when you're not hurt and no one has betrayed you. It's easy to be nice when you've never had to beg for every meal. Shen Yuan has everything on easy mode, and that's the appeal of him in many ways. The quicker, easier, smoother route to happiness.

I for one however, prefer the harder road. I am here for when characters don't respond to awful things happening to them in polite, unchallenging, comfortable ways so the audience can enjoy it without flinching.

Because the message I am interested in is that it's okay. It's okay to have trauma, terrible and unwholesome trauma even. it's okay to be broken in ugly, painful ways. It's okay to never become "normal" like other people. It's okay to never do the things that trigger you. It's okay to be traumatized and to act like it! And that's why I love these types of characters.

If you're interested in an exploration of Shen Jiu's sexual trauma, I'd like to recommend my fic, not to me, not if it's you. I would love to hear your thoughts on it.

[aimbutmiss]

Saw this post of yours: https://www.tumblr.com/aimbutmiss/740229617026220032/maybe-this-is-just-me-projecting-on-buggy-because

and I have to say I love it sm?? yk what it makes me think of? The song I can’t help but wonder from epic the musical, where Telemachus and Odysseus (a father/son duo who haven’t seen each other in TWENTY years) finally meet again. And it’s like, giving Buggy and the ghost of Roger or smth.

https://youtu.be/gUAQvlCFm-g?si=4UJpB9jABhOMLMAI

First of all, thank you so much!! I'm glad you enjoyed it 😁 and oh boy this one's got a kick... You shouldn't have brought up greek mythology AND buggy like I won't shut up ever after this.

I actually cried listening to the song while thinking about Buggy and Roger. It just fits too well. I want to point out a few lyrics that I thought fit like a glove:

"for twenty years, I never could outgrow you" I think its safe to say that Roger's death in Loguetown affected Buggy on a fundamental level. No one could handle watching their father's neck get sliced live. Something like that could never not change you. From the 20+ years that have passed since then, at least part of Buggy is still that 16 year old standing in that crowd, crying. He never fully outgrew Loguetown, and for the record I don't think Shanks did either (I couldn't not bring him up I'm sorry) The main difference is that they experienced very different Loguetowns... Buggy still had hope that Roger would somehow dodge death like he always had, because unlike Shanks he didn't understand why Roger would willingly go to his own death. However, as the one who left, Buggy suffered a lot less after their fight. That's not to say it wasn't hard to leave, or he wasn't sad about it (he cried a lot as he ran away from Shanks) But Shanks suffered a different way, from the whiplash he had from seeing Roger die AND losing his best friend on top of each other. He only expected one of those, and we know which one that was.

"i can't help but wonder (...) if I have your strength in me." Buggy has always been a character with deep self esteem issues. A part of that certainly comes from having Roger's legacy behind him. Roger was strong and smart beyond words, and Buggy definitely felt insufficient, like he couldn't reach that ideal. That's why there's a deep rooted jealousy in him towards Shanks, because he sees so much of Roger in him. This also mirrors Odysseus and Telemachus perfectly, because the son never reached his father's level of intelligence and strength by the end of the Odyssey. However, it is implied that he is on his way there, getting better and better as the story progressed. We see this with Buggy too, with his amazing talent of failing upwards. (I have to say, I don't think all of it can be accidental. Buggy is actually quite clever in his own way) Roger's soul must be watching with pride, but not surprise. I have no doubt in my mind that Roger truly believed Buggy would make it big one day. The kind of trust only a parent could have in their children.

"used to say I'd capture wind and sky for you" Not much to say here but Roger would definitely say something like this. There's not a single thing that man wouldn't have done for his boys. I'm so normal about them haha 😅 ...Also more on the Roger and Odysseus parallels, there's just something so beautiful about a man who chooses his family over and over again, no matter how many good options keep presenting themselves. Like, nothing in the world could get in the way of him and his child no matter what. The similarity just hurts. And even though Roger couldn't live to do that for Ace, at least he experienced fatherhood with Shanks and Buggy.

[hereforh]

I Don't Wanna Face The Music by hereforh

Louis likes to think he's a pretty normal, typical lad. He likes spending nights at the pub with his mates, he loves football and is very close to his family. So when he moves to London for uni, he doesn’t think much will be different.

Until he makes these news friends who are nothing like his mates back home and change his life for the better - and this one boy who messes with his head from the get go and makes him question everything he has every thought about himself.

firs one is gonna be my own fic, because why the hell not. it's my first published fic and i'm so excited about it!!!! t's a WIP but most of it is already written, so it's being publsihed weekly - new chapter coming tomorrow, btw!!! I mean, I like it quite a lot, so I think you should give it a chance and go read it! (pls? <3)

Twist And Then Collide by bananasandboots (181k)

"These instances can last anywhere from a few days to a few months," one doctor says. "Or they can persist indefinitely."

"Indefinitely?" Louis questions, the only one of them able to find his voice. He keeps throwing cautious glances at Harry, searching to make sure he's okay, to make sure he's still with them, still breathing. Harry wishes he wouldn't. He swallows the bile rising up the back of his throat, audibly exhaling through his nose, sharp breaths, small breaths. It's all he can do to keep from emptying his stomach.

"Travis is in a coma," the doctor says. "There's no way to be certain how long it might last."

Or, the one where Harry's boyfriend falls into a coma and Harry falls for his boyfriend's best friend.

this was so, so lovely. I think I mentioned that I was starting to read it on last month's rec, so it's here again because I finished it and loved it so much. the writing is incredible and the way the characters get close through their grief is SO well done. you can literally feel everything they're feeling and t's such a beautiful read. it's not complete, but the last chapter is supposed to be just an epilogue, so I didn't feel like anything was missing with the way it ends.

You, Me, (and everyone we know) by imogenlee

Rockstar Harry Styles has been making headlines since he was barely legal. After a string of bad decisions, PR nightmares, and an obvious inability to take anything seriously, management and his other band members insist he needs a full-time, live-in personal assistant. After hiring and firing half of the executive PA's in the city, the boys stumble across one that might be able to put up with Harry's shit.

this is a WIP by a dear friend of mine who you might know for YCHIITS. So you know can trust her with frequent updates ;) this fic is amazing and layered and it has enemies to lovers and deeper issues and it's everything this fandom needs right now. trust me.

Save Me (from myself) by imogenlee

The problem with being friends with Liam Payne was that he had a lot of friends... and forced them to be around each other. When they finished high school, both Louis and Harry were equally relieved that they wouldn't have to tolerate each other constantly or whatever it was that they did.

For five years, it worked out perfectly. They'd only had to see each other a handful of times.

Unfortunately, Liam had to go and get engaged, ask them to both be groomsmen, and then go full groomzilla on their arses. With just twelve weeks to plan the 'perfect' destination wedding and throw every ridiculous pre-wedding celebration Liam and his fiancée stumble across, it was safe to say they were firmly back in each other's lives.

And no one could have predicted that was exactly what they needed.

another WIP from dear friend - yes, she's a genius. this one was a lovely surprise that i never thought i'd be into, but, again: trust me. you'll get hooked. the characters dynamic just sucks you in completely.

Still on that tightrope by lunarheslwt (13k)

“Let me take care of you?” “I don’t need to be taken care of,” Louis scoffed, though he still tilted his head up in efforts to get Harry closer. “Why?” Harry asked with a hum, “If this were about me, you wouldn’t let me pull this shit.” Louis’ defiance crumbled as Harry rubbed his thumb back and forth across a nipple, breath catching. “So why is it any different when it comes to you?” “Because.” Harry skimmed over his tummy and chest teasingly. “Because?” “Because,” Louis repeated, breathier, unfocused. “Let me take care of you, baby,” Harry asked again, pushing his shirt up. “Let me make you feel good. I’ve got you.”

Or, Louis has never bottomed before and carries that shame, and Harry has never had to deal with Louis keeping secrets from him before. Neither were prepared for walls to be built or arguments to knock them down, when really, all Harry wants to do is take care of Louis.

this is such a sweet and sexy read. It shows the day to day of a established couple who's struggling with a minor issue that could be easily solved with just communicating to each other - and I'm such a sucker for miscommunication in fics so this was right up my alley.

Chicago by HelloLovers13 (3.5k)

They hadn't seen each other in four years, why was Louis still writing songs about Harry? Larry take on the song Chicago

i'm usually not one for short fics, but this was super lovely and sweet and I wish it was longer!

pull you closer (kiss me harder) by sunshineandthemoonlight (5.8k)

Louis pouts at Harry from across the room. "Why're you getting dressed?"

Harry turns to face him, running a hand through hair still damp from the shower. "One of us needs to have clothes on, to answer the door," he says. "For breakfast."

Louis is about to chuck a pillow at Harry and demand he strip immediately – clothes can always be put back on later – when he notices something.

He pauses, tilts his head to the side.

“Are you wearing panties?”

~

Harry likes to wear panties sometimes. It’s never been a sexual thing, until suddenly it is.

I'm in love with this fic and i wish it had a million chapters. The writing is perfection and i love the hinting at their complicated situation while they're still so sweet to each other and clearly still so in love. one of my favorite reads lately, for sure.

[gayleviticus]

people can take and twist arguments about how being non-LGBT-affirming causing suffering is OK bc christian life is about taking up your cross and denying yourself and blah blah blah, and it can become a bit of a dead-end arguing with people who while looking do not see and while hearing do not listen, but to take it a bit further, i think that like,

ok, we can admit the importance of carrying your cross. nobody is an absolutist on this issue; nobody (reasonable) thinks that we should avoid activism and fighting for a noble cause and protecting others just because we ourselves might suffer in the process, we can all agree noble sacrifices to protect others' lives are good. on the other hand, nobody (reasonable) thinks self-harm is inherently good because its noble endurance of suffering.

but that's thinking about it from a personal perspective, where *I* need to accept my suffering to glorify God. what about in terms of a 'how do we treat others?' perspective? The NT places extensive emphasis on the importance of living by the Spirit, of becoming more like God in our love and care for one another, and of developing the fruits of the Spirit against which there is no law. So it seems to me that God is invested in people developing morality through deepening in virtue and attentiveness to others' struggles and suffering, *not* in people's ability to exegete texts. Texts inform our understanding of what's right for sure (1 Timothy iirc says scripture provides 'training in righteousness'), but God is looking for ability to love others and will their good. God wants us to develop our instincts for doing to others as we would have them do to us, our instincts for being sensitive to others' suffering and for loving others even when we can rationalise it away like the men in the Good Samaritan story who let their own countryman die.

Now with this in mind, the way I see it is - if homosexuality is wrong, then God has set up a situation where he actively wants to damage our moral intuitions. The God who normally wants us to defend the needy and the oppressed, to live by the Golden Rule, to seek love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness, faithfulness, and self-control, the God who is Love, which we know to be patient and kind, that does not envy or boast or dishonour others or seek its own good, that always protects, trusts, hopes, and perseveres - that guy has decided, actually, just this once, you guys need to be willing to do to others what you wouldn't have them to do to you, and accept people's pain and suffering, and in fact dismiss it either as LGBT people just fishing for sympathy points or a sad inevitable fact of life. Job's comforters are no longer heretics who spoke wrongly of God, but role models.

Now to be honest, that actually seems crueller than the idea God makes some people gay and then condemns them to lifelong celibacy. It's almost as if God has set some kind of sinister trap to catch people out in their sinful urges of sympathy for others and kindness and compassion. Does it make sense for God, in seeking to sanctify and make us loving and good and holy, to set up a situation where the right choice is to endorse other people's suffering and alienation from God out of fidelity to specific rules? Does it make sense that the one who, when asked the greatest commandment, offered two instead - to love God and to love your neighbour - would now insist actually, loving God means not loving your neighbour in this case?

You can disagree with this, of course. Lots of people would be perfectly fine with the idea that God is deliberately giving us a painful dilemma to show that in the end, no matter what, we obey God even if it means hurting others - appealing to Abraham's sacrifice of Isaac, perhaps, although we forget then that the centrepoint of that story is discovering that God, unlike idols and demons, never truly wanted that of anyone in the first place.

Or perhaps it's not God's fault, but it's just that of the Devil and dealing with moral dilemmas is part of a fallen world. I can see some logic here; we don't want to reduce all our moral problems to 'if one thing is bad, the other must automatically be good.' But at the end of the day it seems a ghastly vision of what God wants for us.

[bugsinshoes]

@cryptic-platypus

okay! so for strangest traits, rudy can roll his tongue !!! (i'm not sure about any other traits, as it's not something i've really thought about. but if you count laurie being ginger as strange, then go for it /silly)

as for useless talents, rudy can perfectly quote any line from his comics, and he can also tell you which issue that specific quote is from. idk if that's really a talent but hey. also laurie knows a bunch of random facts but if you were to ask her what the capital city of california is she would NOT know. (basically she would do pretty well in quiz shows. tends to say "how did they NOT get that answer?? it's so obvious??") sam also knows the periodic table off by heart. i guess that counts for something?

as for doing anything differently, i guess if laurie and jocelyn didn't go travelling the states together they would've never ended up in gravity falls? because most of what happens to my ocs is just circumstances (like laurie moving from canada to the US, she didn't really have a say in that, so she couldn't have done anything differently)

but later down the line, if laurie would've had a tiny bit more trust in jocelyn, 30 years later she wouldn't be living alone in the middle of the woods, and she wouldn't be as closed off and weary!! they would've lived a very happy and normal life together.

also if aysel didn't trust ford (and vice versa) when they first met, things would be SO much different for aysel. (not as much for ford)

sometimes i do think of these "what if" scenarios, but i mostly tend to stick to my Main Timeline, just because there are still many plot holes and things i need to finish, so i can't really distract myself with the Other Universes, you know?

anyways, thanks for the ask!

[dark9896]

Spilled Tea [Blurb Cannon]

Requested by Anonymous 🔥

No one was expecting the lights to go out. Even more worrisome when a sniper laser began tracking through the living room. Klaus had been quick to put himself between danger and everyone within arms reach, following your instructions to duck into a narrow passage. Trusting you when you said it lead to a secret bunker. Given everything they thought they knew had long since gone up in smoke over the past 24 hours, it wasn't difficult to think you still had tricks up your sleeve.

What they didn't know, what you had to explain after the fact, was how you had planned the chaos. Using the cover of dark to wreck your own apartment with a slingshot while Detective Law pointed a high-power laser pointer to mimic a sniper. You had packed everything of value while others were fruitlessly interrogating the man you'd managed to capture. Explaining you planned to throw the place away with the end of the lease agreement happening the day after. Needless to say, it left everyone shocked for a couple days, with you stashing the "second-life kit" in your actual apartment.

.

Klaus

"L-Liebling," Klaus didn't like prying, nor did he want to tell you what to do... and yet, "Are you certain all that secrecy was necessary?"

Your raised eyebrow had Klaus doubting himself, "It's just that... You do know you can tell me when something feels off. I'd hate to hear second-hand that you were hurt or targetted or-"

"Klaus, it was never an issue of trust or feeling secure." You sighed, setting the teacup down on its saucer, "I just wanted to make sure I had a fail-safe for those... extra dangerous targets."

Scratching the back of his head, Klaus stopped mid-breath as you went on, "I mean, what are we supposed to do with targets like that? Risk taking them to HQ? Bring them here? Or to Steven's place? Or anyone else's for that matter? Having a place like that apartment in my back pocket just... it just..."

Klaus reached across the small garden table, gently squeezing your hand. He could tell you were at a breaking point, that explaining yourself and your feelings was still quite a difficult undertaking. But he also knew that simply reminding you it was okay to vent fully was the right thing to do. Klaus would always be there to listen, and to remind you it was all going to be okay.

"It just," You exhaled deeply, "It makes things just a bit easier for me to deal with knowing that I am prepared for every situation. Cause frankly, sometimes just carrying a f&^king tomahawk on my hip isn't enough."

You didn't want to admit to the bright pink rising on your cheeks as Klaus chuckled at your... non-joke. But for now, the matter was dropped. For now at least.

.

Steven

Finger's idly tapping on his mouse, Steven sighed. He had been mulling over that incident for the past two weeks. And none of it made much sense.

Sure, he could understand a few secrets here or there. A weapon stash, an arcane lock system. Even your preference for older 'junk' cars was perfectly normal to Steven. But a whole separate apartment? That felt like a little too much.

Unable to handle the weight of all these questions without answers, Steven picked up his phone. You mentioned needing to look for a new backup place, and he wasn't entirely sure about waiting for a face-to-face talk.

"Hello?"

"[Name], are you busy?"

"Not particularly, just signing paperwork. Why?"

"Can you talk?" Steven's eyes lowered from the monitor to the keyboard, "About the last place I mean."

"Not right now." That uneven tone meant you were trying to make this sound normal, civil. More secrets to blank-faced strangers who would never guess that the new neighbor was really a... "Could I call you back? Maybe an hour from now? Or I could just pop over for a visit if that's easier."

"An hour?" Steven's fingers drummed the desk impatiently, "Meet me at Broskette in an hour. We can get coffee before we get to my apartment."

"Oh, so you're still at work then?"

"Yeah. But there's not much left to do. Schedule's pretty clear and all."

"Alright, yeah. I'll see you then."

The talk over coffee hadn't gone nearly as smoothly as Steven had hoped. Resulting in quite the spat between the two of you, arguing over keeping secrets. Deep down, Steven knew he was just as bad, if not worse about keeping secrets. He couldn't truly have an open communication relationship, not when his secrets would get people hurt.

But you weren't backing down. It shouldn't matter how many secrets either of you kept, you would die on that hill. You couldn't help but feel like Steven was ignoring what you were saying. That you just wanted to be ready for situations like that, how it felt like he couldn't trust you to know what's good.

Storming out of his apartment with bitter tears clinging to your lashes was the worst feeling in the world. And as much as Steven instantly regretted letting you leave, he wasn't quite fast enough to catch you before you sped off. Tonight would need something a little stronger than wine to cope with himself. And tomorrow would come with a lot of explaining...

.

Leo

This whole thing was a little too much for Leo. He knew you were prepared for basically every situation, but for whatever reason, this felt like a step too far. But Leo couldn't put his finger on why.

Why did this bother him so much?

"Leo?" You nudged his arm from across the table, "Everything okay?"

"Huh?"

You tilted your head, "You're stuck in your own head again, aren't you?"

"It's just..." He scratched the side of his face, "The whole thing with the second apartment. The second life stuff."

"What does that matter? It's just a thing to fall back on."

That rubbed Leo just slightly the wrong way. He couldn't pin down why, but hearing you be so nonchalant was just a little too much.

"I mean, it's f&^ked sure. No one should really need a backup apartment. But then you get a job like this and..." You sipped your drink to avoid coughing, "Well, with a past of not being able to trust a whole lot of people. You can see why I didn't think to tell anyone. Even you."

That made things a little better, but Leo still didn't like how you could so easily dismiss it. This isn't exactly something he could forget about any time soon. Maybe this time it won't bug him so much, he already knows that you will have a second apartment. Maybe...

.

Zapp

"So, you and that other apartment... uh..." Zapp didn't know how to start this conversation, he wasn't the kind to talk. Especially not about this but, "Any other uh... things you wanna fess up to or...?"

"I don't have any other romantic partners if that's what you're asking." You were a little preoccupied with your game to really dive into this right now, "But I did find a decent little chuckle-f^ck neighborhood. Just gotta fill out the lease tomorrow and--"

"C*CK-S#^KING A$$ HOLE! MOVE OUT MY G*D D^MNED WAY SO HELP ME!"

Zapp leaned over your shoulder. For such a chill-looking game, it was full of fuzzy animals for f^cks sake, you always seemed to cuss at it like you were dying to a boss or something. Then again, if the same little f^cker was in Zapp's way and constantly talking... he could understand it at least.

"B^tch." You muttered under your breath, "Anyways, yeah. Everything'll be settled and sorted by tomorrow."

"M'kay, not exactly what I was getting at Steven 2.0."

"Then what?"

"What do you mean 'then what?'!" Zapp frowned, "You're basically domestic Rambo... or is it Metro Rambo?"

"I think the term you're looking for is prepared."

"It most certainly is NOT the word I'm looking for you walking armory! You're a mini Chief with Steven's disposition!"

You looked at Zapp, "If I didn't have that apartment, we wouldn't have gotten the answers we needed, right?"

"Well... I mean, I guess."

"So I'm not Rambo, I'm just prepared."

"Yeah right." Zapp scoffed, "You carry at least three blades on you at all times, even in the shower!"

"I do not!"

"You so do! I've seen them! You were pulling them out of your hair!"

"Those were bobby pins you demented orangutang."

Zapp was not about to back down from this. He knew you always had weapons on your person. This was going to be a long night...

.

Zed

It felt like Zed had brought this same topic up at least once a day, but he never was able to get a straight answer. As much as he didn't want to constantly pry, he did need some form of closure over this matter. In one day he went from believing he knew his partner to thinking they were a complete stranger again. It was the kind of mental whiplash that made his head hurt.

But he really didn't feel like he had much of a choice.

"[Name], I know you probably don't want to talk about this, but..." Zed sat up a little on his side of the couch, "You never have given me a decent answer about that apartment. Why you had it in the first place and why you feel you need another."

Letting out a deep sigh, "It isn't strictly to keep secrets or anything. I just... I feel better if I have something like in my back pocket, ya know?"

"No, I really don't. That's why I'm asking you." He shifted to face you a little better, "I don't understand what would drive a person to having a second apartment, even if does help with one's job."

You stopped. Normally Zed did get things like this, without the need for you to explain in detail. It wasn't exactly the kind of thing you liked fessing up to, since it would make it seem like you just didn't trust him. And that couldn't be further from the truth, you just never knew when the right time was to bring up a literal safe house to your partners.

But you couldn't very well keep stalling, Zed did deserve an answer at least... even if it was a difficult one.

"So, I've always struggled with being able to trust other people." YOu started, "And not knowing when to bring things up until it's absolutely necessary. That said..."

Zed's jaw hung limp. He wasn't expecting you to have that kind of a past. It had him feeling a little guilty about pushing so hard for answers. Then again, if he'd gone through the same kind of situation, he would likely want to be as prepared as you were at all times.

Suddenly your "obsession" with weapons made a whole lot more sense.

[lennjamin-o7]

🌯🗡️ back just to quickly say with the “I think you might need to be wary of the "accidentally" in that sentence.”

Phil: (maybe) deliberately delays the trip so that when techno comes to the manor, his parents might be mad at him and present an opportunity for him to drive a wedge between them so he can get more trust / use it as a “well they were dicks so really I’m saving you” excuse before adopting tech

Phil: “This will work out perfectly and techno probably won’t even realise what I’ve done until too late!”

Techno: gets scratched on the cheek pretty badly, gets his hair shaved off and then gets locked in his room ignored and alone just to top it all off.

Phil: 👁️👁️

Phil: “I may have miscalculated just a tiny bit. Slightly bigger wedge than I was expecting but I’m used to improvising at this point”

The real magic behind this royal family is the way they’re constantly able to fuck up literally ANY plan Phil has with them. Purely just a “oh you think you’re bad?? Watch this!” And then they just accidentally neglect their son.

The royal family: “We have 2 perfect children. It’s not really our fault when we compare the normal one to them and punish him harshly because if it!”

Phil: “You’ve fucked up a perfectly good sonboy is what you did! Look at him. Now he has self worth issues ON TOP of anxiety!”

That and just:

Phil, finally coming face to face to renegotiate the deal: “You’re not leaving until I get my son.”

The royals: “Don’t you mean daughter??”

Phil: “I know what I said”

Or:

The king and queen: “We want nothing more than to have our children happy and safe which is why we’re going to the queen of fae to negate this deal”

Techno: Would genuinely intimately be happier and safer if he was adopted by Phil and Kristin. He gets to experience everything they deprived him of ON TOP of becoming immortal and having 2 of the most powerful fae in existence willing to go to battle for him in a HEARTBEAT

The king and queen: “No not like that-“

As well as:

The king and queen: “Wow we’re such good parents!”

Phil: Provides a better parenting experience in a single evening than they did in their entire lives of having 3 children

Phil: Steals the one child they never truly appreciated and gives him the best life POSSIBLE to make up for all that he missed and went through

Phil: “And I’d do it again BITCH”

I genuinely just adore the thought of Phil having just CONSTANT beef with them, like it’s not even about the deal anymore he’s just mad at them over their parenting skills. Just doing ANYTHING he can to fuckin upstage them, bro has beef with them down to the BONE with how mad he is.

Phil: Deliberately has Kristin make winter colder just so the king and queen like have problems heating the castle and their kingdom struggles

The king and queen: “Damn it’s fuckin way too cold this year”

Phil: “And that’s what you deserve! I fuckin PRAY you freeze”

Techno: Shivers slightly

Phil: “Oh my baby, my poor sonboy. Do you want some enchanted blankets to keep you warm? What about some Totally Not Magical stew to make you extra toasty?? Maybe even a heating enchantment on that earring???”

Bro will forever be their BIGGEST hater. He wakes up every day and tries spread as many bad vibes onto them as possible. He literally worked out a way to magically make sure both sides of their pillows would be warm. That’s the level of hating he’s been on.

Or that meme with I receive vs you receive:

Phil: “Here’s the deal, I receive a perfect sonboy who I can dote on and adore with my wonderful wife for the rest of forever”

Phil: “You receive me not obliterating your entire bloodline and taking the kid anyway”

The king and queen: “I can’t help but feel this real might be a little bit uneven”

Techno: “Do I get a say in this like at all??”

Phil: “No ❤️”

That 1 sentence just spurred on so much brainrot for me I couldn’t help but share! My brain created like 50 different pathways just to brainrot and come up with more scenarios. I’m like going back and checking for spelling mistakes and I’m literally only just realising now how much I’ve written lmao

As always, have a nice day and I’m sorry if I’ve overwhelmed!

Phil. Maybe not the King of the Fae, but certainly the King of Improv. He is an opportunist. They opportuniest of opportunists. He is 'Yes, and?'ing this adoption.

Techno is just a little guy. A little guy with a big heart. He needs some attention. Some love. That shouldn't be too much to ask. And yet-

And Yet-

Enchanted blankets, you say?

But Yeah, Philza is not happy about the state of the sonboy. He should have been better taken care of. Don't worry. :) He's got this covered :)

Bro, sorry it took me so long to respond. But I adore every SYLLABLE of all of your brainrots. Literally. Never apologize. I am so glad you sent them. <3 <3 <3 <3

[dumbestthingiveeverheard]

Dumbest Thing I've Ever Heard: 8/3/2023

Fifth place: Twitter user @eyeskewer

This is a little older than the stuff I normally cover on this blog, but I feel like this is worth highlighting as it perfectly shows my issue when many who make conspiratorial claims about transgender medical care:

my "informed consent" was my doctor I had just met handing me papers telling me my voice would drop soon, I could freeze my eggs, I might get acne, and whatever else. I probably didn't even hear everything she said, I just told her I wanted the shot. so I got it. I just turned 18

So you were told you wanted something medical done to you, were told about the risks and consequences, and then got it. I really don't see what the big deal is here.

Fourth Place: Marco Rubio

Elon Musk's time as CEO of Twitter has been far from perfect, but easily the best addition he has made is the community notes feature. For just one example, here is a Tweet from Marco Rubio:

Also, those claims about the 2016 Presidential Election were never proven to be fake--just wanted to add that real quick.

Third Place: Scott Lively

The deranged homophobe who wrote an entire book blaming the Nazis on homosexuality wrote a column a couple of days back with the headline "Leftist lawfare and the abuse of power." A decent chunk of it is spent defending Russian President Vladimir Putin, but here are some highlights:

In all my years of watching corporate U.S. news about Russia and Putin, I have never seen a single counter-argument ever being offered in defense of President Putin (coverage of him is even worse than that of Trump). It's been more than a decade since Obama restarted the Cold War to punish the Russians for banning "gay" propaganda to children, when every story began to paint him as a "brutal monster" – to the point that even many conservatives (who have zero reason to trust that same media on anything) seem to agree.

The hatred of Putin on an international scale has nothing to do with the anti-homosexuality laws he has put in place while President of Russia--although, don't get me wrong, that didn't help matters, but several countries with anti-homosexuality laws are still seen in a positive light by the international community (wrongfully so, in my opinion). It was more his imperial ambitions--starting with his invasion of Georgia in 2008--that caused the international community to move away from him.

Second Place: Abby Johnson

I've mostly been ignoring the story about a handful of far-right Christians refusing to support the fringe Presidential candidate Vivek Ramaswamy because of his Hinduism, however given Abby Johnson was sold to us a few years back as a a reasonable anti-abortion activist--an oxymoron if I've ever heard one. And she has decided to take a stance against a Hindu President, saying:

Do not be a victim of Satan’s confusion right now. This is an important time for us to have clarity of mind as we are going into an election cycle. So please discern. Please use discernment right now because God hates those who are willing to put up idols over him, and he will not be mocked.

All I wish to say is that if you really want a President that's a dedicated Christian--can I recommend you a guy named Joe Biden? Oh who am I kidding, if Ramaswamy does get the nomination it's going to be just like when Billy Graham took Mormonism off his list of cults so he and his followers could vote for Mitt Romney in 2012.

Winner: Ben Shapiro

This man, considered by many to be serious political commentator, does not know the difference between eating and drinking:

[Trump] would face a whopping 641 years in prison. Which I assume means he would not survive prison. Although he is 70% preservatives at this point because he eats so much McDonalds and Diet Coke.

He eats Diet Coke? Ben, do you know how Diet Coke works?

Ben Shapiro you've said the dumbest thing I've ever heard.

[spring-lxcked]

taking a small break to ramble incoherently abt my portrayal of william in what will be a very confusing post lmao

i'm thinking about how my portrayal, which draws inspiration from two specific characters at times, and how i apply that inspiration to william (which started off as the focus of the post before it derailed how did this get so long i'm sorry)

the first is (and i do hate to make this comparison ngl) my portrayal of kok.ichi over on @takinghisbow. i mean, one of the running themes of the blog is the "mask" kok.ichi wears to conceal his true emotions and i've consistently tried to keep myself from falling into that exact turn of phrase on this blog for the most part. these are two characters who do not want you to actually know anything about them and hide everything from intentions to feelings to expressions (yes hello i have realized in the last year that i mask in public thanks for noticing). the obvious differences between these two are motivation (kok.ichi is motivated by trust issues and self-hatred, william is motivated to try to cover up his misdeeds) and method (kok.ichi acts antagonist/annoying to push people away, but william acts falsely kind to draw people in while still keeping them at an arm's length). kok.ichi has questionable morals, but tries to be good where it counts. william is a terrible person and has no intentions of changing that, although he can be kind to those he likes if it isn't "a burden" to him.

the other character (who i also tentatively write) is hann.ibal lec.ter (specifically the NB.C portrayal). and i've said it before, but "you're not a person, you're a monster wearing a person-suit" is william-coded lmao. they're both monsters, and yet capable of caring. they are not incapable of empathy or sympathy, but choose how to wield it. outside of their very horrific hobbies, nobody would ever think they were killers. both are surrounded by death, and yet not suspected because nobody could ever believe they'd do it (until it's too late).

going into making this blog, i was very adamant that i wanted a complex portrayal that didn't fall too far into generic movie serial killer stereotypes. we don't throw around potentially offensive terms like "psychopath" or "sociopath" here. we don't suggest that lack of empathy = bad person here. i also was very, very loathe to do the whole "evil guy looks Totally Evil and is so obviously creepy" because it quite literally made little sense to me. how is this guy killing so many kids and not getting suspected if he screams "Serial Killer" just by looking at him? if he's antagonistic and creepy and clearly threatening? and in that same vein i wanted to avoid "bad person is bad all the time 24/7, never does anything decent ever" because i live for nuance, not the chr.istian fund.amentalist black/white thinking i grew up in. i wanted him to be irredeemably, unmistakably evil without losing the fact that evil people are humans, and humans are capable of great evil if they choose.

i want the moments where he's being decent—a seemingly good friend, father, or romantic partner—to be almost disarming. because, while william is perfectly capable of caring for people, his actions (both in what he does and what he doesn't do) are intentional. always. his sense of humor with his adult friends or romantic partners is half because he genuinely enjoys joking around and half because he wants to be viewed a certain way. funny. normal. just one of your buddies. him doting on his kids is because he loves them, but also because he needs for everyone—both the kids and the community—to be able to say, "What a good father, he would never hurt anyone (and especially not a child)." when he resists showing anger (whether entirely or just the full extent of it) toward someone he's upset with, this is part of the persona. when he pretends to like someone he dislikes, this is part of the persona. when he agrees to something he doesn't want to do, this is part of the persona.

it's part of what makes sprin.gtrap seem so different from william prior to the springlo.ck incident. william is throwing everything behind his persona. he's a calculating man, even when he's genuinely enjoying himself. he can be truly having a nice time with someone, but the thought of how this is benefitting his persona is always in the back of his mind. you're just another character witness to william. after the springlo.ck incident, there's no longer a point. the persona is gone. get ready to meet the real man beneath it.

[kanachaka]

Hello... I hope you are doing well... This may be long and I don't want to bother you and you can just not answer this✨

Well I have been in the shifting community for three years now.... I have several mini shifts I had and I believe that shifting is real and I have experienced it... but my problem is trusting my abilities... I think everything was easier at the beginning of this path... and later TikTok and Reddit and everything The method and information that caused confusion and spiral.... I tried methods like Lucid Dream and so on for several times, but every time I either woke up in cr or entered another dream and over time I thought maybe i am the problem. And I will never shift, it was bothering me... even though I know that now I have shifted... but still I care a lot about time and 3D... I have many wishes and now I want to enter void state and leave this reality and go to my waiting room... and I don't know where to start... I tried several times to make a change by keeping myself positive and saying affirmations, etc., but I always got tired and I'm going back to the starting point... and because many bloggers say that if you have something then you don't doubt about it, I thought that there was no result and this cycle has been my 3 years.... I have depression and anxiety. I have been fighting since I was a child and I live in a country where life is not easy at all... and also school, grades and family that have increased the pressure on me... and yes, I am the only one who can save myself and this Sometimes it scares me... because I think that there is no hope for me and nothing has happened... and I even think that suicide can be the best and fastest way to leave this reality... I know these things are stupid And it will probably make you laugh... but I plan to give myself a chance and work on my mental health and my way of thinking to get over this reality... so to experience and any points you have about void and shifting that can help me i need your advice .... And I'm sorry that this may be illegible, I'm using a translator

I completely understand what you’re going through and have gone through similar things personally. Firstly I would suggest going to therapy. I believe that the law of assumption can fix many things but this seems to be a more deep rooted issue and would cause problems if you don’t fix the root before doing things such as manifesting. And like I said in my recent post, do not rely on social media or others too much. The journey is your own, and you should treat it as such. If something isn’t working for you, don’t do it. Although I want to add on that doubts are perfectly normal. You’re human. The way I combated doubts myself was by letting go, distract yourself if anything. if you chase something constantly and are thinking about it constantly it’s so much harder to process. Additionally, try some meditations, after a while they help you reflect and become more mindful. Just remember that you already have everything you want and let that thought go, try to accept it. If you can’t, try another day. You have time.

[post-finem]

Witch's Log 1

They said I should write. My conversations with the wood typically involve a bit more specificity, but this didn't feel like a request from the wood... it felt like advice. The wood speaks more with feeling than with sound and translating that is... complicated. With that being said, I get the sense that the wood was trying to help me.

Normally, I feel when the wood needs my help, and I do what I can to keep them safe and healthy — they are my home, after all. They help me all the time, too, but this is the first time I've gotten advice like this. When I'm hungry, they point me in the direction of food; when I'm struggling to handle a spell, they help me feel its edges; they help me find the ingredients I need for my potions; and somehow, I even manage to find exactly the right parts I need for my clocks washed up by the crick every couple weeks — no rust or anything!

Lately though, I've started to feel lonely. I haven't seen... anyone, in about 400 years. I spent the first 300 of those years happier than I had ever been before; thrilled to finally be alone. Eventually, though, I started feeling like maybe I wouldn't mind if somebody wandered in. That's not possible, of course; nothing this deep in the wood has been connected to the chronological realm for centuries, and the outer layers of the wood are all but impenetrable to mortals now.

It's for the best. Even when I lived as a mortal... it was different. I was different. I never knew why, but everyone else seemed to. It was as if an aura they all could feel surrounded me, whispering,

"This one's different. Not to be trusted. Useful, maybe, but certainly not one of us."

Luckily, I've long been a lover of solitude, but something strange happened recently. I was working on a new clock - the hardest I've built yet - and all of my attempts so far had been disastrous.

You see, my body may not age here, but my mind continues to accrue memories as though it were experiencing time normally, and I was attempting to build a clock capable of tracking the age of my consciousness.

Problem is, the crystal I need for the oscillator of such a clock takes about eight months to synthesize, and that synthesis process requires that I pour a potion containing an ounce of my own blood onto a rare stone every day until the stone starts to crack, at which point the deep red crystal can finally be harvested.

I'm sure you can imagine that losing that crystal to a temporal implosion thanks to a misaligned gear was... upsetting.

And then it happened again. Eight months and way too much blood later, another temporal implosion. Did I mention that I quite dislike bleeding? This was not an enjoyable process for me. I wish I could say there was some complex, mysterious issue I had understandably failed to consider, but in reality I had grabbed the wrong spring during final assembly and the extra tension... well, poof.

Third time's the charm, right? Another excruciating eight months later, with overhauled schematics, the most perfectly tuned gears I had ever produced, and even a semi-organized workbench, I sat in front of my creation with the blood-red crystal in my hand. Slowly, carefully, I slid the crystal into its housing in the oscillator, and, pushing with an amount of pressure that made my heart pound even harder than before, I snapped it into place and winced.

"Tick. Tick. Tick."

I let out a sigh of relief. It worked. I wasn't surprised to learn that I'm 984 years old, though I also wouldn't have been surprised if I had turned out to be a few centuries younger or older than that — I haven't exactly kept track.

My heart filled with pride looking at my creation. Hearing the satisfying Tick. Tick. Knowing that I had built this thing with my own hands. I stared at the dark oak frame, the patinaed brass gears, the electrum hands and workings, and in the center, the blood-red crystal that had given me so much grief. This was, truly, an object of beauty.

Then I felt something else. A heavy realization. I have built something truly beautiful, and no other human will ever know about it. I'm usually happy absorbing myself into my work, the joy of creation — the space and freedom to create was all I ever really wanted anyway. But, for the first time in a long time, I felt sad to be alone. Sad that there is nobody with whom I can share this beauty.

I could tell that this loneliness was the reason the wood told me to write, but I wasn't sure why before. See, the forest's feelings become clearer the further I follow them, and I can feel now that someone is going to read this. I don't know who, or why, or where, or how, but I can feel that what I write here will be read by others.

That's a lot to process. I didn't know the wood was capable of something like this, and I'm not quite sure how I feel about it yet. I did enjoy writing this, though. I think I need to get some sleep now.

Read Part 2 Here!

[fluffydisneyprincess]

So I was diagnosed with a kidney disease last year and never talked about it

I'm just gonna ramble out the whole story here because I think I need to.

So two years ago I go in to my doctor because of chronic fatigue. I could sleep for HOURS and still be fighting to stay awake when I got up. Sometimes I'd wake up feeling energized and would crash in an hour or two anyway. My doctor could have easily just dismissed me. I have depression/anxiety. I'm a little overweight. He could have just said there's a number of things causing it. Instead he trusted me that I knew something was off and he sent me for tests.

The tests come back and things were mostly normal except two significant pieces of information. The first, this is exactly how he said it, "You aren’t anemic.... yet." I don't know why but I still find it funny. The second was some protein in my urine test. I hadn't been sick in months and didn't have any symptoms of a UTI so that shouldn't have been happening.

More testing. I was actually visiting my best friend in Oklahoma when I got the call about the results. This time he found something in my blood that usually acts as a marker for a rheumatoid issue. People do have it without having rheumatism but I had slightly higher levels of it. He was worried about Lupus and so I was referred to a Rheumetologist. Naturally having your PCP tell you he's concerned about Lupus is um... not good. I didn't handle it well.

Fast forward and I'm feeling silly sitting in a Rheumetologist's office. I had no outward symptoms of anything rheumatoid. No pain or weakness or anything. But the protein bothered the doctor, so more tests were ordered. This went on for a few months with the doctor getting more and more frustrated because that one factor aside I was perfectly healthy. All my other levels were normal. (I have to admit it was both amusing and terrifying to watch. I'd never seen a doctor so stumped but it also meant I wasn't getting answers.) Finally, he decides to refer me to a Nephrologist. A kidney doctor.

It went on for a short while with the kidney doctor and rheumatologist going back and forth as the protein continued to show up in my tests at an alarming level. Neither had a clue. So finally the kidney doctor said he wanted me to have a kidney biopsy done.

If you've never had a kidney biopsy, just imagine being punched really hard in the kidney. Twice. Only I was lucky and they didn't get enough of a sample on one of the tries and I got THREE punches. There was pain medication but maybe I wasn't taking to it as well because the nurse looked really confused when I was showing signs of pain. And continued to be in pain for the next two to three days.

It was a few weeks after the biopsy before I finally got a call about results. IgA Nephropathy. From the way I understand it basically my kidneys weren't working the way they should and weren't filtering properly.

Fun fact: If you try to look up info on IgA Nephropathy one of the first questions to come up is about life expectancy. 🙃 That wasn't terrifying at all. I forced myself to look further and even dared searching that one particular suggestion. With proper treatment and management most people with it live long happy lives but beyond that I found... almost nothing.

They don't know what causes it. They don't know know if it's preventable. It's apparently the most common of that particular type of kidney disease, but I couldn’t find how common that type of disease was. Which led me to the incredibly frustrating reality that I'm in now.

There is nothing I can do. Sure, cutting back on salt and drinking plenty of water is good for your kidneys overall, but as far as my specific disease goes there's nothing. No change in my diet or lifestyle will slow down its progression. The literal only thing I can do is exactly what my doctor says. As of my last appointment my levels were going up again so in about two weeks I have to get testing done again. Right now the doctor is trying to avoid putting me on something that would leave me immunocompromised, but it's not off the table.

Because you know what happens if the disease progresses far enough? Kidney failure.

And, as an added bonus I still haven't explained to my mother, trying to have children *will* speed up the progression of the disease on top of what would already be a complicated and high risk pregnancy. Guess who isn't playing with those odds.

So, yeah. It's been hard to get off my mind lately. It's so fucked up that it was more random than a dice roll for me to wind up with this and yet-- here we are. To say it's not been good for the mental health is an understatement.

[yourtoradorasextendedwarranty]

There's a lot to unpack here

This? This is trust issues. "I'd wonder what you were doing alone in the woods."

Oh!? You mean that thing you are also doing? But come across a MAN doing it and somehow it's wrong? Do you hear yourself? Clearly not. I've run across friend in my life at random while I was out doing things on my own. Ever heard the phrase, "It's a small world after all". Then there's the "I'd be worried if I saw you in the woods with no one else". Ok why? If this person is one of your best friends why world you be worried to see them at any point?

Because imagine this for a second. You mentioned to your best friend that you plan to go camping. He says you know what actually that sounds like a fantastic idea I need to do that at some point. There are 6 to 10, maybe, camping grounds anywhere near where y'all live. The likelihood that y'all both pick the same place is one in 10 which believe it or not is actually still good odds All things considered. Now you go through process of elimination by which ones are close, which ones have the best facilities, which ones have the best ratings, etc. Which then you whittled down potentially 10 to maybe three or four. And the likelihood that you and your friend share tastes as far as stuff like that goes might be pretty high. So then your odds go down to maybe one and three pretty good odds right.

You might not have told your friend when you decided to go camping but maybe you decided you know what why not sooner rather than later. Then your friend has a weekend off that he did not expect and maybe he's single or maybe he invited some buddies who didn't decide to go. You need to put yourself in the situation of understanding that you are bigoted by thinking that all men are dangerous always.

And like Marc said, this is allowed to be the case when you are referring to just specifically men while ignoring that men includes black men, Muslim men, Mexican men, etc. and what's more there's also the fun yet very unpopular conversation when it comes to the crime rates with black Americans. But if anyone who is not black dares talk about not feeling safe walking through Brooklyn then they are immediately fired from their job and fired out of a cannon into a volcano socially. And then publicly smeared as a racist. Meanwhile, I've always thought it kind of funny that sexism is absolutely allowed towards men but never women at all. You can say that all men are potentially dangerous and it's perfectly reasonable but if you say all women are potentially child murdering gold diggers that's apparently sexism. Despite the fact when it comes to murdering kids women have a pretty large track record.

The issue is this goes both ways. Stereotypes based on biological sex have always been a thing. That's just a fact. And pretending that it can't go the other way just because you want to feel like an oppressed class does not make things better. I've said this before and I'll say it again if I ran across anyone alone in the woods it doesn't matter whether it's a man or a woman I would probably be on my guard even if I was not appearing as such. Regardless of whether that person was a man and or a woman. Because for me whenever I'm alone in the woods I'm normally deep out in the woods randomly exploring places that other people theoretically should not be in. Or the likelihood is slim to none. Because first and foremost if you're ever in the woods generally speaking you should probably be armed in some capacity. Because logic dictates that you should be not for the sake of potentially protecting yourself from a person but very likely from a wild animal. A wild animal that can't be reasoned with and will tear you to shreds given the right reasons. And for an animal the right reasons might be the fact that you're in their territory.

The problem isn't men. It's this feminist push to make all men out like their predatory monsters when they're not. If you compared the amount of actually violent Men to the amount of men in the world ended the same with women you would see some very very interesting statistics. And you'd find that women are typically as violent as men they're just better at hiding it. But I don't care to talk about stuff like that because I would rather view people as just people. Sadly this is just an extension of teach men not to rape. Which is a concept idea that very much frequently ignores the fact that not only are women capable of rape but they actually rape at the same rates as men do but legally in most countries women sexually assaulting anyone regardless of using an object or otherwise is not considered rape. And the reason that the rates statistic-wise can't be tracked properly is because one again legally in most situations women can't be guilty of rape. And two most women who are raped by women never come forward about it and the law does not consider it rape either. Which means that there is a huge amount of statistics missing in regards to that stuff. Anyways I'm going to stop ranting and rambling because otherwise I'll be at it all day.

Fact of the matter is you have trust issues that's just it. You've been told for your entire life men scary which means you've also been told to trust every single woman you come across by default. Because "they are women".

[blackberry-gingham]

All We've Ever Known

Gambit x fem!reader | Chpt 1 < Chpt 2 (Final)

Also available on ao3!

Summary: Retired from the X-Men, and on course for a new life, you and Remy have enjoyed a happy marriage of the last few years. With the slew of welcome, happy changes it's brought to his life, it's little surprise that they've begun to leave their mark on Gambit's person.

You see a happy, loving man who's simply grown into his body at last after a life of rigorous living. He sees a man so disgustingly different from the one you married, it makes him ill. Sparking a one sided divide in your relationship, things come to a head when you try to address things. Little do you know, He's felt this way for a long time now- And the infamous Remy Lebeau is nothing if not stubborn.

Tags: Body image issues, past weight gain, angst, fluff, married couple, and of course dad bod gambit

Tag list: @greenheart99 (I told you this one ends happy B) ) @samatedeansbroccoli

---

For a long while, you lay awake in the darkness. A few times you check over to your husband as he lays there facing away. You sigh silently, and pull the blankets up around you thoughtfully. He has just been acting so strange lately... You're not sure what to make of it, but it's driving you insane.

All you can do for it is over think and worry. Sudden change in appetite. Change in his normally boisterous attitude. Doesn't want to be touched.

Did you do something wrong?

The freezing cold bites into you- even through the blankets, you can't help but shrivel up and shiver. Normally in a situation like this, you'd work your way under his arm and cuddle up on your own, but... Then, it strikes you. Perhaps this is just the opportunity you need to get him talking. He always used to love when you'd curl up with him- Something he said more with his heartbeat and gentle sighs then anything else.

"Remy!", You whisper urgently.

He doesn't respond to your call, but you're not too sure he's asleep either. It's something about the way he's breathing... You think nothing of it, sliding up until you're hugging his back with an arm wrapped over his body. Not ideal, but if you don't get a little closer, you're sure to start trembling from the cold.

Gambit grunts and twitches at your touch, almost as though the contact itself stings him. He rolls onto his stomach, just out of your touch. With a sleepy, indignant groan, he at least turns his head to regard you as he mutters, "Whatchu want woman?"

"Sorry, I know you're tired but... Can I get in there? I'm freezing!", before he can respond, you set out to prove your cause of need. Slipping an ice cold finger up his shirt, a practice you know he hates- you trust this will persuade him.

As can be expected, Gambit hisses and recoils. The deathly chill of your hands don't bother nor surprise him nearly as much as they used to, but even so, the shock of it never quite goes away.

Remy swats your hand away, "Merde!", he yelps, "You know, you can just say you's cold and Gambit believe you, huh?"

"Aw, but that's not nearly as fun", you almost pretend to pout, but can't help but laugh.

Gambit rolls his eyes and groans, "Hows about Gambit get you another blanket, den you leave him be-", he ask the question rhetorically, then starts to get up before you can either respond or else torture him further.

"Wait! Wait-", mid rise, you stop him, "I'm sorry, I just... Really I was just hoping we could talk"

And just like that... His heart drops. Talk? Oh no... No no, he's too late. You've found him out. He didn't hide it well enough. He didn't lose weight fast enough. You're disgusted with him. He knows. You've had enough. You don't want him anymore. Is that what this is?

Yes or no, it doesn't matter- He's all but convinced himself it is.

Gambit drops to a sitting position with a defeated thump, his back perfectly squared off to you. Then, oh so slowly... He turns. Tears stream from black eyes as he sneaks a look at your face.

The tears are what strike you the most- You've known him for so many years, and yet you think you could count on just one hand the amount of times you've seen the cool and tough Remy LeBeau cry.

"Remy...? What's wron-?", confused and a little afraid, you reach out to him. To your surprise, he turns to face you more instead of jerking away as he has lately.

"Don' try ta' spare Gambit's feelin's cher- Jus' say what you needa say", he looks at you intently, pitifully, as the water streams down his freshly shaven cheeks.

"Wha-? Well I wanted to talk about you-!"

All at once, what little of a façade he's made breaks. This is it- He's sure of it. A shuddering breath and barely choked back sob wracks his body.

Weakly, Gambit slides a callused paw across the sheets, covering your hand with his as he looks you pleadingly in the eye, "L-listen... Please don't", he begs, shaky breath only interrupted by a gasp of a sob, "Gambit know- alright? But he gon' fix dis, ok? I-it ain't too late, non? Ah' can lose the weight, ah' promise-", he prays and bargains, petitioning for just a little more time before you discard him.

For the life of him, he tries to give that old, confident smile... But as soon as he says those damned, cursed words of acknowledgment- He faulters. One big hand snaps up to hide his face. A good thing too, he wouldn't want you to see the worst of his disgusting crying on top of it. The mattress itself jolts in unison with his gasps until after just a moment, he's collected himself enough for just one more appeal.

With all the weight of the world on his shoulder. The pain like a life long love lost. A pitiful whine, like his voice itself is at it's breaking point. He looks you in the eye once more from his slumped, beaten position, and it's all he can manage just to beg, "Please don' leave me..."

All you can do is sit in stunned silence- Gambit picks up your hand with his great paw, rubbing your knuckles to his smooth cheek comfortingly as he weeps. And you?

You haven't the faintest idea what he's talking about.

"...Leave you? What gave you that idea?", you ask a little more indignantly then you meant to.

Gambit clicks his tongue and jerks his head, "Like you gotta ask- Ah' just said!", he sniffs, and tries to pull himself together for a little while more, "You can't say dis da Gambit you marry- Why'd you wanna be wit me, lookin' like dis, when skinny Gambit were the one you loved?"

His words hang in the air for a long quiet while... Truely, you don't mean to make him wait. It's only that you need the time even to hope to make sense of what he's saying.

"You think that matters to me?", this time, you ask it softly, returning your hand to his cheek with a gentle caress. Your thumb glides over the skin, pulling and pushing, driving a small divot into the pillowy flesh with each stroke. It didn't use to do that. There was a time once where you swear you could nearly feel the difference between each tooth behind those once shallow, taught cheeks-

But it's just one of many tiny, subtle changes you've come to love on him.

Before he can whip up a response, you tilt his head straight- prime for a kiss.

His lips have always been soft and full, but you must admit, you've come to adore the pouty tilt these cheeks give them. There's such a way about them- so much more then something as paltry as being sultry or merely attractive.

It's the way they embrace you and yours. The feeling like fabric as they contact any other patches of your skin. Warm and enveloping and gentle, like they were made just to clothe you in adoration. It's the texture. Not quite callused, but not perfectly smooth either- For when they kiss you this deeply, you can feel the little dents and chafes inside from where he bites and chews them.

It's the color and the shape, that perfect blush of pink and the sharp cupid's bow on top. They're tanned that same, reddish sunburn tan as the rest of him- but it's the little points where the skin pouts out that give them that enticing contrast from the rest of his face. Like a magnet. Like a sirens song. It draws you to them and to him like an irresistible, forbidden art.

When you kiss those lips, it's as though they alone could wash all the world away. You get lost in the connection. The rapturing pull of this magnificent man- just as so many before you have too. Your thumbs stroke his freshly shaven cheeks and you dare push into him just a little bit more... And with closed eyes and senses full, even still, you can't help but grapple with the confusion of it all.

Why on earth would he think such things as you leaving? As having lost your love for him? How- when every time you're together, after all you've seen and been through with one another? When after all these years... he has the power still to make you feel like this.

And as you think these thoughts.

And feel these things.

Gambit sits across from you- Eyes open. Heart calm. And feels... nothing.

He watches you kiss him, merely receiving, until you're finished. This is all an act... A performance, from you for him. He knows a con when he sees one- You think you can fool the master himself? No, he knows the truth.

You want only to cushion the blow. To stave off his suspicions a little longer. Just one long kiss and an even longer 'I love you' to convince him that you're not overcome with disgust. That you can't stand the sight of him. That you hate the changes his body has taken. The wrinkles, the scars, the rounded curves, the weight of it-

Two disheveled tears streak down from either black eye as you pull away. He sniffs and shakes his head deftly, words reflecting his thoughts, "No..."

"No?", your voice overlaps his, nearly defeating his efforts to drown out the memory of just how must he delights in your token affections.

Gambit shakes a little harder and pulls away. He dare not let himself believe- How is he supposed to be ready for things to end, when he's so easily swayed as this by your touch and kiss?

"No", he insists.

The cold light of your bedside lamp reflects tiredly off of his dark eyes. All the time, as the seconds slip by, you can see him shutting you out. He looks away, setting a vice grip to your chest- a panic over your heart. How long has he been feeling these thoughts? Worse yet, what can you possibly say to combat and dispel the words from his own head that he seems so bent on believing?

Slowly, you take a breath. And you slide your hand across the sheets. Your fingers lace over and between his own, and you thank above that it's enough to grab his attention.

The desperation for reassurance proves too great. His commitment to believing you'd abandon him too weak. One more chance... He lets his gaze drift back to you.

You give his hand a squeeze. One more chance.

"Do you remember... way way back, when we first met?", you start off slowly, checking to see if he'll follow. For now, he does, "We could barely stand to be in the same room together, things were so rough", you huff a laugh, but make sure to keep going. "I thought you were so coarse and full of yourself- though I'm sure you felt some type of way about me too. We all thought that was just how it was going to be, right? That we, you and I, were too different to even just be friendly"

"... Ah' remember"

"Well, do you remember that one day... we were out and it was absolutely pouring, right out of nowhere it felt like! I was so upset, my hair was getting ruined and silly stuff like that- and I thought for sure you were just going to laugh and keep walking past me", you pause the weight of the memory reaching even you, "Then... The funniest thing happened- You took off that huge, heavy duster and held it over my head for me. Do you remember that?"

He gives a small smile of his own at the memory, the first of its kind all night, "Yeah- Just din wanna hear you squallin' all day"

You laugh with him, "Well, still-", and give a playful shove, "After that, I got to thinking... maybe, just maybe, there was a refined gentleman in there after all"

Gambit gives a true, hearty laugh at that- almost strong enough to forget why he was crying, "You make it sound like it weren't obvious from da start", he sniffs, not sure where all this is going... And yet, "So what happen next?"

"Well... Once I realized that maybe I was wrong, that you might not be the heartless, selfish criminal I had made you out to be in my head... Then I got a chance to pick up on all the nicer things about you. Things I liked. Pieces that I could get along with", your hand glides up from his hand and along the steel like beam of his supporting arm- back and forth, your knuckles graze the thin thatch of red hairs covering his bicep, tickling the skin just right.

Nervously, Remy shoots a glance down. Your hand is on the outside of his arm. The good part. The side with all muscle and studly hairs and his reddish burn of a tan- It's the handsome side. The perfect foil to the pale, soft, stretched skin on the inner half.

"And once I did that... I saw things like a good, strong, loyal man. And how you can be fun, and loud, and brash in public, but when it was just the two of us, you were quiet, and down to earth... A good listener. A caring attitude. Maybe a little arrogant, but the more I got to know you- the closer you let me get... Even that was charming"

He makes no moves towards either coming nor drawing you closer, but you can't resist sliding just a bit nearer to his great warmth. Your hand drops from his arm, and something like disappointment seizes over his heart- replaced in nigh an instant with tension as your opposing hand lands on his thick, padded thigh.

"You gave me the chance to fall in love with who you were- not just what you looked lik-"

Gambit shakes his head and interrupts, "Das the problem cher- You did love Gambit how he was, so for how he look too, non? Looks matter, whether you wanna say so or not, so how can you say you love Gambit still?", he gestures to his body, indeed the big, strong, soft one you now rest your hand on.

"Easily-", you give his leg a pointed squeeze, "I can love you when you were thin. I can love you the way you are now. And I have loved you at every stop in between- Don't you see?", your voice softens as you lean in close. Closer and closer all the time, fractions of an inch as the long seconds pass. Your free hand leaves your side, coming to rest on his broad chest-

"It's because I love you for what's in here- the way you make me feel. The way you talk. The way you act. That's the Gambit I love, and nothing out here is going to change my mind", a wave of emotion chokes your voice, the pleading written well within your eyes.

How oh how can you make him understand... Is there a right set of words? A perfect gesture? A fonder memory? What if he never sees what you mean- could this one thing, a lone insecurity as this, truly go on to tear down the years you've built together?

You sniff, the stress eating away at your chest. So you take comfort- Your hand slides down from chest to stomach, warm and soothing and piercing, the kind that at times can soothe even the greatest of your woes.

Lately, he can't stand when you touch him there. It's his greatest insecurity- A burden on his mind that has only poisoned his emotions more and more as the months have worn on. And yet... he cannot bring himself to remove you, as he so typically does.

A part of him knows it brings you comfort, though he may be old and grey before he ever understands why.

Remy lays one big hand over yours, holding it in it's chosen place on his body. Your fingers are like ice- no surprise, really. He's known you long enough to know that they always are this time of year.

He never told you, perhaps never will, but... back when the two of you were younger. When he was... thinner. On nights like this, he got it in his head to tap into his powers just a little bit. Just enough to charge up his body to produce some more heat- all in the interest of keeping you warm on a cold winter's night.

What a silly thing to do- A pathetic, misuse of his powers. Were his unmarried self ever to hear of his present self doing such a thing, he has no doubt the old Remy would fall to the floor in laughter. In mockery. He could've grabbed you a blanket. He could've turned on the heat. But no- No, even when all was said and done at the altar, when you were his and he was yours then and forever. He was still so set on impressing you, even then...

To see your joy, was his joy- and so it has been ever since.

With his free hand, he thumbs away a stray tear from your cheek and leans in to plant a kiss.

He hasn't had to do a trick like that warming thing in quite some time, given his... current state. You were never left disappointed. Never cold. Never unsatisfied. And-

And... Thinking back now, he can't recall a time you didn't love him.

Then.

And now.

And every stop inbetween.

For as long as he can remember. For as long as you've been together. You've always loved him just the same. With out judgment. Without contempt. With all of you... for all of him.

Gambit rests his forehead against yours tiredly. The tip of his sharp nose tickles yours as he sniffs, the slow drip of a tear or two falling straight down to your lap. He sighs deeply, thoughts troubled by the internal fight. What's a man to do when his ideals no longer align with the reality? For so long he's feared you no longer loved him, and now...

Now he doesn't know what to think.

His breath hitches in his throat, heaving a lone sob, "Oh darlin'... How you still love Gambit when he don' even like he self?"

"Because... You've given me every reason to. All this time. All these years. You make me happy, just by being you", you sniff once more, putting on one more push to get the words out, "You're more then enough, just the way you are- and nothing else can ever take that away"

And there they are- Not the perfect words. Not the ones to make everything go away. Not the ones that will cure him and all his fears... But the ones that are just enough. The ones he'd been waiting so long to hear.

All his life it's been what could he do for others. Stealing. Fighting. Lying. Cheating- Anything to make up for being a mutant. Anything to make up for being a criminal. Anything to make up for being a lousy, abandoned, needy kid. His actions got him tolerated. His looks had always been what got him adored.

Funny... Never before had it occurred to him that, just perhaps, actions alone could net him all the adoration- all the love and appreciation he could have wanted. All that he deserved to have.

Perhaps he isn't satisfied with his looks now- But you are. You can see the worth in him, even when he can't. And even still, your affections run so much deeper then that... Deeper then he ever thought possible. Past the skin. Through the flesh. Down to his very core-

If you, the only one he's ever come to care this deeply for, so thoroughly as this- can love him when he feels he's at his worst? Then maybe... Perhaps he can't be as terrible as he thought.

Gambit offers one more, wet sniff- followed in suit by a hint of a smile. He tilts your head back with his nose as leverage, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. What more is there to say, when you've put things so well?

You love him for his actions- Then let those do the talking.

Leaning just a little more forward all the time, he groans into the kiss, pushing pushing pushing... until at last, something gives.

With a dedicated shift in weight, he playfully pushes you down back to the mattress. Careful not to pin too hard or to crush you flat- he lets you finish until his thanks can be known. When all is done, he flops down beside you. The bed frame groans and rocks in response to the slam, a response that would normally kill him with embarrassment- but as for tonight, neither you nor he seem to care.

Gambit wraps you tightly, protectively, in his arms- drawing you to him. A wave of hot air rolls off of him and he sighs in relief as he gets comfortable beside you. Every fiber of his being thrums with energy- He doesn't even mean to charge up like this, but how is he to fight his nature- To deny himself the release of such a deep, resounding joy?

He snuggles against your cheek, humming low. One arm supporting your neck and the other reaching in just such a way so as to hold you. After a moment, he rolls you both over- him to his back, you to your side and laid against his chest. One quick jerk to interrupt the calm as he snatches over a pillow for himself, and then... back as you were.

The comforting heat of him permeates all the way from your skin, to your tired muscles, down to your very essence. You haven't a clue how he manages it... but you're thankful enough not to question. The skin of your cheek and the frozen digits of your hands feel warm and alive once more as he checks back in. It does him good to see your shivering go still. He feels accomplished. Fulfilled.

This is a service he personally gets to provide just for you- wrought from his own body, with his own efforts, and one that allows you the luxury to feel satisfied and secure.

He would hate to leave you broiling... but perhaps he should consider using his talents more often.

"Is you warm enough, mama?", he nuzzles your head.

Slowly but surely, he lets the power fade, a certain confidence flooding his chest as you nod a dreamy yes. Your hand slips free of his paw, sliding up and down the curve of his stomach, nails biting the skin here and there as they cross back now and then over the hem of his tousled up shirt. It rises and falls with each one of his robust breaths, taking your head on a similar journey as it rides his chest.

Ba-dum Ba-dum Ba-dum-

You smile to yourself, listening intently to the thundering might of his heartbeat. You've always thought his muscles on the outside were impressive- but a part of you feels they've always played second string to the strength and grandeur of his heart.

In your neutral, comfortable position, your arm rests atop his stomach. You know he worries about the softness- not being lean or defined as he used to. It feels shameful, like an abandonment of past standards and discipline- but you don't see such things at all. He's warm and dense like stone beneath your touch. Like a fortress, he has but a way of comforting solidity and sturdiness about him.

You smile, a serenity washing over you and him and the very room you're in. Your nails graze against the plateau of his abdomen, back and forth and back again in a rhythmic lull. Gambit watches your floating hand with leisurely interest. Even now, a small, tiny part of him would like to chase your hand away... But the sense of relief he feels to finally bask in the ministrations of our touch is enough to drown it out. No more shame. No more hiding. No more doubt.

Just you... and him.

Gambit takes a deep breath, drinking in the fragrant scent of your hair, before letting go. His stomach rises only a touch now that he may take a break from requiring himself to suck it in. How strange it feels to let those tired muscles relax- He's gotten so good at posturing. At flexing his deeply hidden abs and sucking in what all else he can manage. He's been doing it so long, it almost feels unnatural to not.

He lets you go on like that for a few minutes more until you're almost sure he's determined to fall asleep to this petting- You give his belly a little pat, signaling at last that you're done for now. It's late as it is, but you don't want to push him away if he's not ready to say goodnight yet either. Gambit groans in disapproval, but then thinks better of it, perhaps yet a little ashamed to think it.

No words pass between you until soon after, his unnaturally quiet voice speaks up. Gambit closes a paw over the back of your still hand, rubbing a gentle circle on the back of your palm- but he doesn't make eye contact as he asks in reservation, "You sure you don' regret marrying me?"

"Never", you kiss his jaw, without missing a beat, "I can't let Anna-Marie to have all the fun"

"Hmpf- Fun, huh?", he muses, looking down at your entwined hands.

You manage to flex a finger from beneath the weight of his callused hand, scratching playfully at his stomach, "Well... It's been a little while- but yes, I'd say so", a devious smirk accompanies your hand as it slide dangerously down south along his stomach.

"Ay!", he yelps, drawing up a leg to block your progress and twisting a little as he does so. Gambit swats you off and smooths down the front of his shirt, "Down girl, down! Now we was jus' havin' a nice moment!"

You laugh while he tries not to, "Alright, alright- Just thought I'd ask"

The flush almost starts to drain from his cheeks as he settles back in. Gambit scoffs, and shakes his head in mock disappointment as he crawls under the sheets proper at last, "You strange, woman-"

You follow his lead and crawl into bed, not sure what to make of his chiding. Perhaps you indeed went a little too far for just a joke... Your head hits the pillow as Gambit leans up and over you to reach for bedside lamp to click it off for the night. But before he turns the switch, he looks down, connecting his gaze to yours one more time.

With that old, sly smile... the one you swear hasn't seen the light of day in months- he darts down to kiss your forehead, coming back to one up you, "Ask me again in da' mornin, cherie", he smirks-

and the lights click out.